Ray's Daughter: A Story of Manila

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Ray's Daughter: A Story of Manila Page 7

by Charles King


  CHAPTER VII.

  There was trouble at the Presidio.

  All but ten of the escaped prisoners had been recaptured orself-surrendered, but the ten still at large were among the worst of thearray, and among the ten was the burly, hulking recruit enlisted underthe name of Murray, but declared by Captain Kress, on the strength ofthe report of a detective from town, to be earlier and better known asSackett and as a former member of the Seventh Cavalry, from whichregiment he had parted company without the formality of either transferor discharge.

  Murray was a man worth his keep, as military records of misdemeanorswent, and a sore-hearted fellow was the sergeant of the guard, heldresponsible for the wholesale escape. And yet it was not so much thesergeant's fault. The evening had come on dark, damp, and dripping.Gas-lamps and barrack-lanterns were lighted before the sunset gun. Thesergeant himself and several of the guard had been called inside to theprison room by the commanding officer and his staff. There was a maze ofbrick and wooden buildings in front of the guard-house, and a perfecttangle of dense shrubbery only fifty yards away to the west. It was intothis that most of the fugitives dived and were instantly lost to sight,while others had doubled behind the guard-house and rushed into analley-way that passed in rear of the club and a row of officers'quarters.

  Some of them apparently had taken refuge in the cellars or wood- andcoal-sheds until thick darkness came down, and others had actually daredto enter the quarters of Lieutenant Ray, for the back door was foundwide open, the sideboard, wherein had been kept some choice old Kentuckywhiskey produced only on special occasions, had been forced, and thehalf-emptied demijohn and some glasses stood on the table in a pool ofsloppy water.

  But what was worse, the lieutenant's desk in the front room, securelylocked when he went to town, had been burst open with a chisel, and Mr.Ray had declined to say how much he had lost. Indeed, he did not fullyknow.

  "Too busy to come in," was the message he had sent his mother themorning after the discovery, and yet all that morning he remained abouthis quarters after one brief interview with the perturbed andexasperated post commander, ransacking desks, drawers, and trunks in thevain hope that he might find in them some of the missing property, forlittle by little the realization was forced upon him that his loss wouldsum up several hundreds--all through his own neglect and throughdisregard of his father's earnest counsel.

  Only three days before the lieutenant commanding his troop had been sentto Oregon and Washington on duty connected with the mustering ofvolunteers,--their captain was a field officer of one of the regimentsof his native State,--and, in hurriedly leaving, Lieutenant Creswell hadturned over to his young subordinate not only the troop fund, amountingto over four hundred dollars, but the money belonging to the postathletic association, and marked envelopes containing the pay of certainsoldiers on temporary detached service--in all between nine hundred andone thousand dollars.

  "Whenever you have care of public money--even temporarily--put it atonce into the nearest United States depository," said his father. "Evenoffice safes in garrison are not safe," he had further said. "Clerks,somehow, learn the combination and are tempted sometimes beyond theirstrength. Lose no time, therefore, in getting your funds into the bank."

  And that was what he meant to do in this case, only, as the absenttroopers were expected to return in two days, what was the use ofbreaking up those sealed envelopes and depositing the whole thing onlyto have to draw it out in driblets again as the men came to him for it.Surely he could safely leave that much at least in the quartermaster'ssafe. Creswell never thought of depositing the cash at all. He carriedit around with him, a wad of greenbacks and a little sack of gold, andnever lost a cent.

  Ray took the entire sum to the quartermaster's office Tuesday eveningand asked to store it in the safe. The clerk looked up from his desk andsaid he was sorry, but the quartermaster was the only man who knew thecombination, and he had gone over to Camp Merritt.

  So Ray kept it that night and intended taking it to town Wednesdaymorning, but drills interposed. He carried a little fortune with himwhen he went in to meet his mother and sister Wednesday evening, halfintending to ask the genial "major,"--mine host of the Occidental,--totake care of it for him in the private safe, but the major was out andthe money was still bulging in Ray's pockets when he returned to thepost late that night, and it had been very much in his way. Thursday hefully expected the troopers back, and yet when stables were overThursday evening and he was ready to start for town to join his dearones, and was arraying himself in his most immaculate uniform andsecretly rejoicing in the order prohibiting officers from wearing forthe time being civilian dress, he found himself still burdened by themoney packages and in a hurry to catch a certain car or else keep themwaiting for dinner.

  The quartermaster's office was several hundred yards away, and therestood his own desk, a beautiful and costly thing--his mother'sgift--with its strong locks and intricate system of pigeon-holes andsecret drawers. He would "chance it" one night, he said, and give histrusted servant orders to stand guard over the premises, and so thelittle bag of gold went into one closed compartment, the envelopes andwads of treasury notes into the hidden drawer, and the key into hiswatch-pocket.

  His servant was a young man whose father had been with Colonel Ray forquarter of a century, a faithful Irishman by the name of Hogan. He washonest to the core and had but one serious failing--he _would_ drink.He would go for months without a lapse, and then something wouldhappen to give him a start, and nothing short of a spree would satisfyhis craving. It was said that in days gone by "old man Hogan" wassimilarly afflicted, but those were times when an occasional frolicwas the rule rather than the exception with most troopers on the farfrontier, and Hogan senior had followed the fortunes of the --thCavalry and Captain Ray until an Indian bullet had smashed hisbridle-arm and compelled his discharge.

  Whereupon Mrs. Ray had promptly told the gallant fellow that their armyhome was to be his, and that if he would consent to serve as butler oras the captain's own man to look after his boots, spurs, and sabres hewould never lack for money comforts, or home.

  Perhaps had Mrs. Ray foreseen that the dashing Irishman was destined tolay siege to the heart of her pretty maid, she might have suggestedsetting Hogan up in business farther away. Perhaps, too, she would not,for his almost pathetic devotion to her beloved husband was somethingshe could never forget. Hogan, the crippled veteran, and Kitty, thewinsome maid, were duly wed, and continued as part of the army householdwherever they went. And in course of the quarter century it seemed to bebut a case of domestic history repeating itself that young "Mart" shouldbecome Mr. Sandy's factotum and valet, even though Sandy could havesecured the services of a much better one for less money. Young Mart hadall his father's old-time dash and impetuosity, but less of hisdevotion, and on this particular Thursday evening, just when his mastermost needed him, Mart was not to be found. Ray stormed a bit as hefinished his toilet. Then, as there was no time to be lost, he closedthe door of his bedroom behind him and hastened away to the east gate.Just outside the reservation was a resort kept by a jovial compatriot ofHogan's,--assuming that an Irishman is always an Irishman whether bornon the sod or in the States,--and there Ray felt pretty sure of findinghis servant and sending him home to mount guard. And there, sure enough,he learned that Hogan had been up to within five minutes, and had leftsaying he must go to help the lieutenant. He was perfectly sober, saidthe publican, and it was more than half a mile back to quarters. Raywould be late for dinner as it was, the car was coming, and so, thoughdissatisfied and ill at ease, he jumped aboard, hurried to theOccidental, and within three hours was stunned and almost crushed by thetidings that the house had been entered and robbed, probably within anhour after he left it.

  And now Saturday morning, while the guns of Alcatraz were booming insalute across the bay and all the garrison was out along the shore or onthe seaward heights, waving farewell to the Vinton flotilla, and hismother and Maidie had gone out with the department
commander to bid themgod-speed, poor Sandy sat wretchedly in his quarters.

  Hogan, overwhelmed by the magnitude of his master's misfortune, andrealizing that it was due in no small degree to his own neglect, was nowself-exiled from the lieutenant's roof, and seeking such consolation ashe could find at the Harp of Erin outside the walls, a miserable andcontrite man,--contrite, that is to say, as manifested in the manner ofhis country, for Hogan was pottle deep in his distress.

  Although vouched for as perfectly sober from the Hibernian point ofview, he well knew that he had taken so much that fatal Thursday eveningas to be fearful of meeting his master, and so had kept out of the wayuntil full time for him to be gone to dinner. Then, working his wayhomeward in the darkness of the night, he had marvelled much at findingthe back door open, rejoiced at sight of the demijohn and disorder inthe little dining-room, arguing therefrom that the lieutenant had hadsome jovial callers and therefore hadn't missed him.

  Hogan drank, in his master's priceless old Blue Grass Bourbon, to thehealth of the party, and then, stumbling into the bedroom and lightingthe lamp, came upon a sight that filled him with dismay--the beautifuldesk burst open, drawers and letters and papers scattered about in utterconfusion,--and in his excitement and terror he had gone on the run tothe adjutant's quarters, told that official of his discovery, and thenlearned of the wholesale jail delivery that occurred at retreat.

  He wrung his hands and wept as he listened to his young master'swrathful rebuke and the recital of his losses. He hung meekly about thehouse all night long, but, unable to bear the sight of poor Ray'smingled anger and distress, he had fled with the coming of the day andgone to tell his woes to his friend of the Harp.

  Afternoon of Saturday came, and still Ray sat there nerveless.

  He knew that any moment now would bring that loving mother and sister.He had cleared up the litter left by the robbers, put his desk in order,and Hogan had done his best with the sideboard in the other room.

  Sympathetic souls among his brother officers had been in from time totime consoling him with theories that the thief could not escape,--wouldsurely be recaptured and the money recovered. But on the other hand hewas visited by the returned troopers in quest of their money, and wascompelled to tell them of the robbery and to ask them to wait untilMonday, when he would be able to pay them.

  Luckier than others who have been overtaken in the army by somewhatsimilar misfortune, Ray knew that he had only to acquaint his parentswith the extent of his loss, and, even though the sum was great, itwould be instantly made good. Yet the thought of having to tell hismother was a sore thing. He had disregarded his father's caution. He hadproved unworthy of trust before the gloss had begun to wear from hisfirst shoulder-straps, and he well knew that his mother's fortune was nolonger what it was at the time of her marriage.

  In the years of their wanderings all over the West all her businessaffairs had been in the hands of a trusted agent at home, and it sooften happens that in the prolonged absence of owners trusted agentsfollow the lead of the unjust steward of Holy Writ and make friends ofthe mammon of unrighteousness and ducks and drakes of their employers'assets.

  The ranch bought for him the year gone by was a heavy drain. His father,in giving him a few hundred dollars for his outfit, had told him thatnow he must live entirely on his pay, and that he should be able to "putby" a little every month.

  But, as was to be expected of his father's son and his Kentucky blood,Sandy could not bid farewell to his associates at the ranch or thecitizens of the little cow and mining town on the Big Horn without aparting "blow out," in which his health was drunk a dozen times an hour.Oh, that he had that money now instead of certain unpaid bills in thatravished secret drawer! It was humiliation inexpressible to have to sendthose men away empty-handed, and in his dejection and misery, poor boy,he wandered to his sideboard instead of going to luncheon at the mess,and all he had had to eat or drink that day, by the time Mrs. Ray andMaidie came late in the afternoon, was some crackers and cheese and hedidn't know how many nips of that priceless Blue Grass Bourbon.

  The bright, brave young eyes were glassy and his dark cheek heavilyflushed when at four o'clock he hastened out to assist his mother fromher carriage, and the color fled from her beautiful face; her heartseemed to stand still and her hand trembled violently as she noted itall, but took his arm without a word, and, with Maidie silentlyfollowing, went up the steps and into the little army home, where thedoor closed behind them, and the knot of lookers-on, officers awaitingthe call for afternoon stables, glanced significantly at each other,then went on their way.

 

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