The sad loss the “Kobe Country Club” had suffered on the “diamond” this day had enjoined the members to seek recourse to the above custom, and verily I disclose unto those in attendance that night in Japan, if, with the awakening of the dawn, your feverish brows throbbed for cracked ice as mine did, my sympathy for you is unbounded.
During the celebration this night at the club, each guest performed some little sketch of his own; an officer of the British battleship Endymion, being pressed “real hard” for a song, was finally prevailed upon for a selection. Taking a position at the piano, he skilfully ran over the keys, then, turning, addressed the club as follows: “Gentlemen, am noute at ’ome in the voucal loine, but, if you must ’ave a song, a’l endeavor to sing a selection sent to me by an aeold friend in the United States, entitled, ‘I’d
leave my ’appy ’ome for you, double o, double o.’” We Americans who had heard the song in the “States” knew the title to be, “I’d leave my happy home for you, oo, oo.” Turning to the piano, our friend commenced:
“I’d leave my ’appy ’ome for you, double o, double o;
For you’re the sweetest girl I ever knew, double o, double o,”
et cetera. Well, the chuckling expressions of mirth that this ridiculous song brought forth created a laughable scene. Once begun, the fellow was unwilling to stop; he evidently had hysteria, and thought the laughing applause, for he pounded away on the keys, and rang in double o, whether it fitted or not, until, finally, a brother officer went to him and whispered something in his ear, whereupon he ceased, and joined in the laugh with all the attributes of a good sport.
Many of the crew had planned a visit to the quaint inland city Osaka; but the destiny of the soldier and sailor is one of absolute uncertainty. This time the unexpected
appeared in the shape of an order, directing that the cruiser proceed at once under forced draft to Manila, a distance of 1400 miles. All kinds of rumors ran afloat, the one predominating being that a German ship caught smuggling arms to the insurgents had been fired on by the gun-boat Nashville; this, however, seemed absurd, though not improbable. It was evident, at any rate, that something of a serious nature needed repairing, as consultations in the admiral’s cabin by the flag-officers and captain were at fever heat. The following day at dawn, coaling ship was commenced by a motley throng of natives, who kept a continuous stream of coal pouring into the bunkers, which by night-fall contained two hundred and fifty tons. At two bells (9 o’clock) the ship had been thoroughly cleansed, and at four bells (10 o’clock) anchors were weighed, and the “bull-dog of war” ploughed madly through the waters of the phosphorous deep. Fair weather prevailed throughout the voyage, alleviating to some extent the labor of the coal-passers below, who by their strenuous efforts kept the cruiser under forced draft,
driving her through the “briny” swells and into Manila Bay in less than four days. Casting anchor in the harbor of Cavite, booms were spread, launches lowered, and we immediately learned of our mission, of the terrible massacre of Company “G” of the Ninth Infantry, General Chaffee’s old command, at the hands of the barbarous bolo-men of Samar, the company having been taken by surprise while at breakfast.
Most every person is familiar with the horror of this massacre on the Island of Samar in October, 1901; of how the savages stealthily crept upon the sentries, dispatching them with a thrust of the bolo, as one might blow out a flame, so adroit and silent was the operation; how, at a signal given, one detachment secured the arms in the barracks, as another made the fatal charge at the mess-hall, where one of the bloodiest struggles ensued that has been recorded since the battle of the “Alamo,” one or two soldiers of a whole company miraculously escaping to tell the tale.