The Steam-Shovel Man

by Ralph Delahaye Paine

He wiped his eyes and blubbered for joy. He was proud of his country. There was no taking liberties with Uncle Sam on the high seas! A little later he became alarmed at discovering that the Juan Lopez was heading straight for the beach. He comprehended the purpose of General Quesada. The steamer was to be rammed ashore and the crew would escape into the jungle. They might take Walter with them, beyond all reach of rescue.

Now the bullets from the tug began to rattle against the fleeing steamer or to buzz overhead. Walter dodged away from the port-hole and tried to kick the state-room door from its hinges. He could hear the crew working in wild haste to cast loose and lower the boats. From the hold came a tremendous roar of steam. The Juan Lopez was in danger of blowing up before she stranded.

Then there came a rending shock as she struck the beach. Walter was thrown from his feet and dazed, but he managed to scramble to the port-hole, where he could see the crew diving overboard and fleeing through the surf. Others were tumbling pell-mell into the boats. In any other circumstances the flight of these bold revolutionists would have been vastly amusing.

Walter began to hope that he had been forgotten in the panic. As soon as the ship was deserted he would smash the flimsy door and gain the deck, where he could signal the other vessel and let his friends know that he was alive and well.

Before he could break his way out, the door was hastily unlocked, and there stood General Quesada, perspiring freely and greatly excited. He had delayed to get his precious prisoner who knew too much. Carelessly assuming that in his disabled condition Walter could make no resistance, he proposed to take him from the ship single-handed. In expecting meek obedience he was guilty of a serious error of judgment. With rescue so near, the robust youth was in no mood to obey the beckoning gesture.

He objected to being led into the jungle, and his objection was sudden and violent. His wits were working as nimbly as if he were pitching a championship game of base-ball. This was his first chance to meet the enemy on anything like even terms. And he had a large-sized score to settle with General Quesada. Walter would have preferred a hickory broom-handle and plenty of room to swing it, but without weapons of any kind and only one good arm he must choose new tactics.

General Quesada stood in the doorway and growled impatiently at him. Stepping back to gain momentum, Walter lowered his head and lunged forward like a human battering-ram. He smote the corpulent general in the region of his belt. The impact was terrific. The amazed warrior doubled up and sat down with a thump and a grunt, clasping his fat hands to his stomach. His appearance was that of a man who had collided with a pile-driver.

Walter climbed over his mountainous bulk and the general was too breathless to utter his emotions. His face expressed the most painful bewilderment. He had ceased to take interest in his very urgent affairs. Walter had no time to pity him. He had resolved to assist the stern course of justice to the best of his ability.

Using his left arm and shoulder, he sturdily shoved at the collapsed general until he had moved him inside the state-room. It was like trying to shift a bale of cotton. The door opened outward into the main cabin, so that Walter was able to close and lock it. Then he pushed and dragged a table, a bench, and several chairs to build a barricade against the door as an extra precaution. This accomplished, the weary and panting youth said to himself:

"I think that will hold him for a while. It was about time the worm turned. Now I'm willing to call it quits. And his crew isn't going to bother to look for him."