Phil gave the young soldier a look of close scrutiny as he unbuckled the revolver from about his slim waist and laid it on the hatch top. There was nothing soldierly in the newcomer’s appearance, and Phil unconsciously gave a sigh of disappointment. On the officer’s collar between the crossed rifles was a single numeral.
“And a regular, too,” he thought.
“Good luck,” Major Marble cried as he passed over the gangway on to the dock while the gunboat heaved up its anchor from the muddy bottom of the river and steamed swiftly for the outer harbor.
Phil studied carefully the chart in his miniature wheel house forward. “Ninety miles,” he mused as he stepped off the distance to Binalbagan. “At this speed we’ll be in by daylight.”
The three sat long over their dinner on the cool quarter-deck, while the gunboat sped rapidly along the coast of Kapay. Forward, the soldiers and sailors fraternized, speculating upon the morrow’s work.
The naval men’s faces were keenly excited. The long-looked-for fun had commenced. They were almost willing to hope that Captain Baker’s men were having a stiff time of it, so that the guns of their boat could have a chance to speak their disapproval to the insurgents. Lieutenant Tillotson sat coolly contemplating his coffee cup. To him these expeditions meant but one thing: discomfort.
“What’s the chance for a fight?” Sydney asked the army man.
Tillotson shook his head. “None,” he replied, “unless we can catch them by surprise. This gunboat would scare off an army of insurgents. They don’t like them.”
“But we shall surprise them,” Phil cried enthusiastically. “We’ll get there before daylight, hit the enemy from behind and crumple him up. I dare say, though, the fight will be finished before we arrive.”
Tillotson shook his head. He was non-committal. “News travels fast in this country, and it’s only twenty-five miles by road to Binalbagan,” he said.