The circumstances attending the meeting of the other man in question were exceptionally singular. It was late in the autumn of 1902, and I was stationed in the old “Quartel de Espanol” at Fort San Philippi, Cavite, P. I. Every evening about sundown, when not on duty, it was my custom to stroll with a friend or two to a hacienda in the adjacent “barrio” of San Ruki, where the soft-toned music from a harp and guitar was artistically rendered by two charming mestizos. At this native bungalow, shaded by large palms and drooping banana stalks, gathered nightly the elite of the village, and occasionally señoritas from the city of Manila, whose predominant beauty, in fluffy kimonos woven from the fibre of the pineapple with a texture as fine as silk, was augmented by that indisputable
mark of Spanish aristocracy, the ever-propitious mantilla. By the dim light of a candelabrum which fluttered in the evening zephyrs, these social gatherings were regulated with that Oriental quiescence and technique to the manner born.
It was while wending my way home in the moonlight from such an allurement of beauty and music, that I chanced along the Calle Real and into the Café Del Monte, when I was agreeably surprised to see, seated at a game of cards, my old shipmate “Jack” Lavery of the cruiser New York. Being clothed in a suit of civic white duck, I was unrecognized for a moment. “Hello, Jack!” I exclaimed. “Well, Bill! for God’s sake, where did you come from? I thought you were in China on board the monitor Monadnock?” “No, the application was disapproved of, so I fired in another for shore duty.” “Well, but you left us in Shanghai.” “Yes, my application was approved there, I crossed the sea on the gun-boat Manila.” “Well, where are you now?” “Fort San Philippi.” “Good! Shake hands with some friends of mine.—Fellows,
we’ll have the story about the Moors in Algiers to-night.—Waiter! take the order; bring in some Egyptians and a new pinocle deck.” Having been furnished with the order, the cards were dealt and we made our melds.
The fourth game was in progress, and, as the cards were being dealt, I remarked to my partner, whose cuffs had been rolled back, “Corporal, that dragon represents artistic work; where did you have that done?” “The dragon was tattooed by an expert on the Queen’s Road in Hong Kong; these storks I had put on in Kobe, Japan; and the spider’s webb was worked in at Cairo, by a professional who had the honor of tattooing his excellency the Khedive of Egypt.” “That is pretty work, and I see it harmonizes with the blue scar on your wrist; where did you dig coal?” “Oh, years ago, away back in Pennsylvania, all the way from slate-picking to working a gangway.” “What part of Pennsylvania, may I ask?” “Hazleton, Luzerne County.” “Hazleton? Are you from Hazleton?” “Pretty close to it; my home is in Beaver Brook, a
little mining hamlet about three miles south of the city.” “Great heavens! ten thousand five hundred miles from home, and here is a native of my own village,” I soliloquized. “Did you ever know a family in Beaver Brook named A——?” “Did I?—for the Lord’s sake, is it possible that you are young B——y A——?” “That’s me, old chap.” “Well! Well! put her there, old boy. Twenty-two years have passed by since I worked for your father. I am Johnny Coyle; don’t you remember Jack?” “Well, Jack, my old school-mate, shake again. Truth is stranger than fiction. School-mates, ship-mates, landsmen, bandsmen, and marines, come on, let’s celebrate; press the button, sergeant, and we’ll sing, ‘I’ll meet you at the hedge where the huckle-berries bloom.’”
For several days my home city, Hazleton, Pennsylvania, was well represented at the “Fair,”—a special containing a large concourse of Sir Knights of the Masonic Fraternity who, accompanied by their wives and daughters, were homeward bound from San Francisco, where they had been attending a
Masonic conclave. Having the esteemed acquaintance of nearly every member of the jolly bunch, I was delighted and felt highly honored with their visit in our camp. In my four years of travel around the world, these were the first people from home whom I had met, with the afore-noted exceptions.
Each day was given to some especial event. Every State in the Union celebrated on one particular day, the buildings representing the State being more elaborately decorated for this occasion. This function was attended by their respective governors and staff, occasionally accompanied by a troop of horse or infantry. Various branches of business had their day; there was also theatrical day, automobilist day, Elk day, and in fact every day during the continuance of the “Fair” was taken up by some particular branch of business or profession, the turnstile recording the largest attendance on Chicago and St. Louis day.
Theatrical day I had the pleasure of escorting a party of the profession, whose names in glittering light frequently adorned the theatres along Forty-second Street and