Dave Darrin on the Asiatic Station. Or, Winning Lieutenants' Commissions on the Admiral's Flagship. Hancock Harrie Irving

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sir,” declared the police official. “I shall tow both canoes ashore, and then the force will get busy.”

      “Don’t you wish to send a wireless ashore, urging the police to look out for two swimmers who are likely to attempt to land?” suggested Dave.

      “An excellent idea,” replied the police official, and wrote out a despatch which Ensign Darrin sent to the wireless operator forward.

      After that the launch chugged away with the two canoes in tow.

      Twenty minutes later a wireless message was received aboard the “Castoga,” and immediately the operator brought it aft.

      “Native Policeman Rafeta,” Ensign Darrin read, “reports that a Chinese swimmer was observed, by him, to land. The Chinaman reported that his skiff had upset. Native policeman, not being suspicious, reports that he allowed swimmer to proceed on his way. Swimmer is to be identified by a fire-mark on the right cheek under eye.”

      “Burnt-face!” gasped Ensign Dave, recoiling slightly. “Then it seems that I was not quit of that fellow when I turned my back on him on the Escolta this afternoon. In what fiendish business can ‘Burnt-face’ be engaged?”

      CHAPTER III – MR. PEMBROKE BREAKS IN

      On the next day the Manilla police had little of interest to add to the account of the night tragedy on Manilla Bay.

      Searching the city, and especially the Chinese quarters, the police had been unable to find any yellow man answering to the description of “Burnt-face.”

      Very likely many of the Chinese residents of the city knew the man who was sought, but Chinamen habitually mind their own business, even to the extent of withholding important information from the police. So within two or three days the chase was all but forgotten. The Chinese “tongs” are secret societies that commit killings in all parts of the globe where their people are to be found, and the death of an unknown Chinaman does not provoke the police anywhere to any great zeal in finding the slayer.

      Then the “Castoga,” which, for reasons known only to the higher naval authorities, had been anchored half a mile from the mouth of the Pasig, was ordered to new anchorage off the naval station at Cavite.

      On board, the officers had ceased to speak of the strange Chinese tragedy of the night; Dave and Dan had well-nigh ceased to think about it.

      One afternoon the French gunboat “Revanche” received visitors. Ensigns Darrin, Dalzell and Hale were requested to represent the “Castoga” and did so, going over in the launch.

      On board the French boat they found a sprinkling of English and Japanese naval officers. There were also a few officers from the United States Army.

      Our American friends were introduced to all present whom they had not previously known. Half an hour later Darrin was inspecting the “Revanche’s” lifeboat equipment under the escort of Lieutenant Brun, of the French Navy, when a superior officer appeared on deck. It was the same officer who had appeared, on shore, to exhibit such marked disapproval of Mr. Pembroke.

      “There’s an officer over there to whom I wish you would introduce me,” Dave said to the lieutenant.

      “With great pleasure,” replied Brun, “as soon as our turn comes. That is Commander Bertrand, commanding the ‘Revanche.’ All the gentlemen present will be introduced to him now.”

      “If you don’t mind,” Dave added, quickly, in French, “I shall be glad to wait until the last, as I should like to have a few words with your commander.”

      A group had gathered around Commander Bertrand, who, all smiles and good will, played the host to perfection.

      At last Lieutenant Brun led Dave over to be introduced. The introduction accomplished, Brun moved away a short distance.

      After the first few polite exchanges had been made on both sides, Dave asked:

      “Would you object, sir, to telling me whether you know a Mr. Pembroke, an Englishman?”

      “I know that it is a well-known English name,” replied Commander Bertrand, “but personally I know no Englishman of that name.”

      “Do you remember seeing Mr. Dalzell and myself with a man in front of the office of the Captain of the Port a few days ago?”

      “I recall having passed you,” replied the Frenchman readily.

      “That was Mr. Pembroke with whom we were talking.”

      “Was it?” inquired the Frenchman politely, as he raised his eyebrows. “Then perhaps I was in error. I felt that I had seen the man before, but at that time his name was Rogers.”

      “May I inquire, sir, if you know this man Rogers?”

      Commander Bertrand shrugged his shoulders slightly as he asked:

      “Is he a friend of yours, Monsieur Darrin?”

      “No; but he had presented himself to Mr. Dalzell and me, and then had offered to do us a service.”

      “I do not believe that I would trust him,” replied the Frenchman. “I cannot say, positively, that Monsieur Rogers and Monsieur Pembroke are one and the same man, but this I can assure you – that Monsieur Rogers is far from being an honest man.”

      Further than that the French officer seemed disinclined to discuss the subject. After a brief chat on other topics Dave thanked the French Commander courteously and moved away. In less than two minutes, however, Dave found a chance to impart this information briefly to Danny Grin.

      “Pembroke looks like a good one to dodge,” declared Ensign Dalzell.

      “I don’t know,” returned Dave Darrin. “It all hinges on whether he is really the chap who once called himself Rogers. Commander Bertrand declined to be positive that they are one and the same, though for himself, he seems to believe it. However, we are not likely to see Pembroke again. He has made no effort to force himself upon us.”

      Not long after that the launch called, and the “Castoga’s” visiting officers started to return to their own craft.

      “There is some one waving to us,” declared Dave, staring across the water at the occupants of a small motor boat.

      “Why, it looks like Captain Chapin,” returned Dalzell.

      “It is Chapin, and that is his sister with him,” returned Dave. “See, she is standing up in the bow to wave her handkerchief to us.”

      “Chapin ought not to allow her to stand up in the bow of such a narrow craft,” said Danny Grin. “It’s a risky pose for any one but a veteran sailor. It’s dangerous. She – ”

      “By Jove!” burst from Darrin. “There she goes – overboard!”

      For a rolling wave, catching the small motor boat under the bow, had rocked the little craft.

      Miss Chapin was seen to stagger wildly and then plunge overboard.

      “They’ve stopped!” cried Dan. “She doesn’t come up, either!”

      “Boatswain’s mate!” rang out Ensign Darrin’s voice sharply to the naval launch alongside. “Put

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