A United States Midshipman in the PhilippinesStirling, Yates
General
A United States Midshipman in the Philippines
Stirling, Yates
Philippines -- Juvenile fiction; United States. Navy -- Juvenile fiction
“Tell Lieutenant Tillotson we’re ready,” Phil said in his natural voice
to Sydney on the gangway.
Lieutenant Tillotson strolled aft slowly, his eyes on the streak of
dawn ever increasing in the eastern sky.
“Come on, Tillotson,” Phil said harshly; “we’ve wasted too much time
already.”
Lieutenant Tillotson stopped on the gangway and glared angrily at the
composed midshipman below him.
“I’d like to know,” he sneered, “what business a midshipman has to give
orders to his superior officer.”
“I’ll give you one more chance, Tillotson,” Phil said in a stern, tense
whisper; he did not wish the men to hear. He could see even in the dim
light the surprised, incredulous look on the faces of his sailors.
“Will you please get aboard?”
The lieutenant remained motionless, a dark scowl on his face.
“Shove off,” Phil ordered harshly.
The boats cleared the gangway. The sailors dipped their oar blades,
ready to follow the leading boat in which was Phil and the trusty Colt.
“Come back here,” the lieutenant cried, seeing he had gone too far. But
Phil’s jaw was set and he turned to him a deaf ear.
“It’s his own fault,” Phil confided to O’Neil at his side. “I didn’t
order his men in the boats; they got in without orders, as any decent
men would do. What is it, O’Neil, just pure cold feet?” he asked
suddenly.
“Partly that, sir,” O’Neil answered, “but Lieutenant Tillotson is not a
coward; he’s just overcautious and a bit of a braggart. He didn’t like
attacking in the dark.”
The four boats pulled with oars muffled in toward the dim shore. Phil
steered his boat for a point behind the long fringe of flashes, where
the insurgent firing line was established, creeping ever closer to
the handful entrenched behind walls that would soon be too hot to
hold them. He had abandoned his first plan and now was landing all of
his mixed command to the left of the town. If he could land without
discovery, the first the enemy would know of his presence would be the
horrifying, crackling report of the machine gun.
“There, steer for that,” Phil breathed as a mound-like hill took shape
out of the darkness.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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