Fullspeed ahead! Then ahead she leaped. Ere the destroyer had gained full momentum her bow struck something under the water. Men were thrown from their feet by force of the shock, and the destroyer lurched heavily.
"Hope we haven't torn our bottom out," muttered Darrin as he joined the bow lookouts.
On the water appeared a patch of oil whichrapidly broadened. A wooden stool and other floating objects were visible.
"That looks like a fair score," declared the young lieutenant-commander, at which the on-looking seamen grinned broadly.
Over the spot the destroyer again steamed, but nothing passing under her keel was noticed. The sea was clear before her.
It was hours later when Darrin received, in a special code of the British Admiralty, word that the "Olga" and her convoy had reached port, and the "Olga's" officers and crew had been turned over to the Admiralty officials.
In the meantime Dan Dalzell and the "Reed," as learned by occasional wireless messages, had been separated at no time by more than two miles, though neither craft was visible from the other.
Towards the end of the afternoon the fog began to lift. By nightfall it had disappeared. The stars came out and the crescent moon hung near the western horizon. Both destroyers had again turned north, the two craft having drawn in within half a mile of each other.
Dave, after a two-hour nap, went to the bridge at about two bells—nine o'clock. He had been there some ten minutes, chatting with Ensign Ormsby in low tones, when of a sudden he broke off, listening intently.
"Sounds like distant firing, sir, two points off the port bow," hailed one of the bow lookouts.
In a silence, broken only by the wash of the waters and the jar of the engines, distant rumbling sounds were again heard.
"That's gun-fire," Dave declared. "Mr. Ormsby, have the signals shown so that word may be conveyed to the 'Reed' to keep with us at full speed."
In another moment both destroyers dashed forward with a great roaring of machinery and dense clouds of smoke trailing behind from the four stacks of each.
When some miles had been covered, with the gun-fire sounding with much greater distinctness, Darrin felt that he could judge the distance properly. Turning on a screened light he consulted the chart.
"It's just about there," Darrin declared, placing his finger on a spot on the map. "Ormsby, I believe that enemy craft are bombarding the little fishing village of Helston. It's an unfortified, small port."
"That's the kind the Huns would prefer," returned the ensign, with a savage smile.
"Ask the chief engineer if a bit more speed is obtainable; then sound the bell in Mr. Fernald's cabin."
A knot an hour more was soon forced from the"Grigsby's" engines, though at that racing gait it would have been difficult for an amateur observer to have detected the fact that speed had been gained. The "Reed," too, leaped forward.
Minute after minute of breathless racing followed. Presently the flashes of guns could be made out ahead against the darkness of the night. Helston showed no lights, but the sound of bursting shells located the fishing village to those on the bridges of the approaching destroyers.
"The hounds!" blazed Dave, indignantly. "Up to their old and favorite game of killing defenseless people!"
Long ago the crew had been called to quarters. Everything was in readiness to attack the enemy.
"Three of them, and all destroyers, judging by the size of the flash of their guns," Darrin judged.
Throughout the war it has been a favorite trick of the enemy, when the opportunity offered, to send these swift craft out on night attacks. No other craft on the seas, except Entente destroyers, are capable of pursuing and overtaking German destroyers when they flee.
"Open fire when we do," was the signal flashed to the "Reed."
"We're ready," came back the instant answer.
Two minutes later one of Darrin's forward guns flashed out into the night. From the "Reed" there came a similar flash.
"Let 'em have it, fast and hard!" ordered Dave.
As the two destroyers sprang forward, firing at full capacity, the three German craft turned and steamed toward them.
"They outnumber us, and think we'll turn tail!" exulted Dave. "They may sink us, but if we do go down at least we'll try to carry our own weight in enemy ships down with us!"
Though he did not make an unnecessary movement, all of Darrin's calm had vanished. He watched every one of the "Grigsby's" shots, his eyes flashing, breath indrawn. When he saw a hit his glance was snapping. Many of the shells, however, splashed in the water only, for now the five engaged craft were circling about each other in a life-and-death struggle.
As they circled and zigzagged the German craft did not offer a very certain mark. Darrin and Dalzell were maneuvering in similar fashion.
"If we lose, we lose gamely," thought Fernald under his breath. "Was there ever a better or braver commander than Darry? He will ask no odds, but is ever willing to give them!"
"Ah!" The exclamation, half sigh, broke from Dave's lips as he saw the burst of flame and smoke as a shell landed on the superstructure of the leading German destroyer.
Then another shell from the "Grigsby" struck the same enemy's mast, smashing the crow's-nestand hurling German seamen, dead or crippled, into the sea.
Three enemy shells landed on the "Grigsby," causing no serious damage. But the fourth hit dismounted one of Darrin's forward guns, killing three men and wounding five. Hardly an instant later another German shell landed on the bridge, reducing some of the metal work to a mass of twisted junk and ripping out part of the deck.
Shell fragments and flying splinters flew on all sides, yet out of this hurricane of destruction emerged Darrin, Fernald and the watch officer, all uninjured.
An instant later Darrin shouted his orders in Fernald's ear, then gained the deck below in a series of leaps.
With one of her forward guns dismounted, the "Grigsby" was to that extent out of business. Preferring not to trust to his torpedo tubes, at this juncture Darrin raced aft, just as the destroyer began to execute a swift turn.
And now Dave's craft turned tail and ran for it, the young commander directing personally the service of the after guns as the foremost German destroyer gave chase.
Two more hits were scored by the enemy, with the result that two more of Dave's hardy young seamen were killed and four wounded. Matters were beginning to look decidedly serious.
As for Dan Dalzell, when he saw the "Grigsby" turn tail and flee, his heart gave a great bound.
"Good old Darry didn't do that unless he had to," Dan told himself. "I must cover his retreat somehow."
So, his guns barking, and men standing by at the torpedo tubes, Dalzell darted straight for the second of the German destroyers.
Fortunately there was plenty of sea-room, for Dave Darrin was not in reality running away. He was still alert to win the fight, but he wanted to win with the smallest possible loss among his own men.
The Hun craft pursuing him was the slowest of the three enemies. This Dave had already guessed. He allowed the other craft to gain for half a mile, then suddenly shot ahead. By this time several hits had been scored by both combatants, and the third enemy destroyer was maneuvering for a position from which she could render herself effective to send Darrin and his men to the bottom.
Just when it happened Lieutenant Fernald hardly knew, but once more Darrin stood on the bridge at his side.
"Circle!" Dave shouted. "The shortest circle we can make, so as not to show our broadside longer than we must."
Running under full speed, and with a helmthat she minded, the "Grigsby" swung around. So unlooked for was this maneuver that the pursuing Hun craft did not succeed in making a direct hit on the Yankee ship during the turn.
And then, just as the turn brought him where he wished to be, and at deadly close quarters, Darrin gave his next order.
Forward leaped the American destroyer. Too late the astonished German commander saw the purpose of the maneuver.
With knife-like prow the "Grigsby" crashed into the German vessel, the blow striking just forward of amidships.
As the butcher's cleaver passes through the bone, so did the bow of the Yankee destroyer go through the Hun.
Yet in the moment of impact Darrin rang the bridge signal to the engine-room for full speed astern. Nor was this command executed an instant too soon. Just in the nick of time Dave's gallant little ship drew back out of the fearful hole that she had torn in the enemy.
Aboard the Hun craft the yells of dying men rose on the air, for the enemy destroyer had been all but cut in two.
Listing before an irresistible inrush of water, the German destroyer almost turned turtle, then sank quickly beneath the waves.
To the northward a muffled roar sounded, followed instantly by another. Dalzell had let go with both forward torpedo tubes, and both had scored. The second stricken enemy ship began to fill and sink slowly.
"Shall we stop to pick up men?" called Fernald.
"Too bad, but we cannot linger while one of the enemy craft still floats," Darrin replied, calmly. "Our first business is to sink enemy ships. We cannot be humane just yet. Give full chase, Mr. Fernald!"
The German survivor had already turned tail, for these Yankee fighters were altogether too swift in their style of combat. Dalzell, whose craft was nearer the fugitive, was now first in pursuit.
To avoid firing over his chum's craft Darrin steered obliquely to starboard, then joined in the chase, firing frequently with his remaining forward three-inch gun.
As to speed it proved a losing race. The German craft that had survived proved to be a shade more speedy than either the "Grigsby" or the "Reed," so the two craft in chase endeavored to make up for the difference with active fire.
Some direct hits were made. In a little more than half an hour, however, the Hun destroyer was out of range of the Yankee guns.
"We'll drive her back to her base port, anyway," Darrin signalled Dalzell.
So two narrow ribbons of searchlight glow played over the sea, keeping the enemy in sight as long as possible.
Presently the German's hull vanished below the horizon; then the lower parts of her masts and stacks went out of sight. Still the two Yankee destroyers hung on, in a race that they knew they could not win.
Only when Darrin's knowledge of these waters told him that the fleeing destroyer was safe did he signal the "Reed" to "abandon chase."
Reluctantly Dan Dalzell's little ship swung around, heading to keep the "Grigsby" company on the new course.
"Tackled superior numbers, and sank two out of three," Dave commented, calmly. "Not what one would call a poor evening's work, gentlemen."
"It was splendidly done, sir," glowed Lieutenant Fernald.
"We won't take too much credit to ourselves," Dave proposed. "Let us give some of the credit to luck."
"Not with you in command, sir," protested the executive officer.
"But we did have a lot of luck," Dave insisted.
"The luck that you planned and schemed for, with your mind working like lightning," Fernald retorted.
He was too much of a man to try to flatter hischief. Fernald spoke from the depths of complete conviction. He had known Dave Darrin's reputation at sea even before he had come to serve under this swift-thinking young officer.
Dave's first care, now, was to inspect the dismounted gun. Only a few moments did he need to convince himself that the piece was a wreck that could never be put in use again.
He then descended to the sick bay, where the surgeon and four baymen were giving tender attention to the wounded men.
"It was a good fight, men," Dave said, as he passed through the bay.
"Then I'm not kicking at what I found," cried one young sailor lad, cheerily.
"Nor I," added another. "It was worth something, sir, to take part in a fight like that. Ouch! O-o-o-h!"
Dave paused to bend over the sufferer, resting a hand on his nearer shoulder.
"I beg pardon, sir," said the lad. "I didn't mean to make such a fuss. You'll think me a regular baby, sir."
"No one is to be blamed for yelling, with a pair of shell fragment wounds like yours," broke in the surgeon, bending over and examining. "My boy, you have regular man's-size wounds."
"Not going to croak me, are you, sir?" asked the young sailor, looking up into Medico's eyes.
"Oh, no; not this trip, my lad."
"Then I don't care," returned the young seaman. "Wouldn't care much, anyway, but there's a mother at home who would! Ouch! There I go again. My mother'd be ashamed of me."
"No, she wouldn't," smiled the surgeon. "Look here, what I took out of that hole in your leg."
He held up a jagged fragment of shell. It was somewhat oval-shaped, about an inch and a half in length and half as wide.
"It hurt you more when I took that out than it would to pull a dozen of your teeth at once. Let's look at this other hole, the one on the other thigh. That's going to be a tougher job. I'll give you a few whiffs of chloroform, so you won't notice anything."
"Do I have to have the chloroform, sir?" demanded the sailor lad, who was not more than eighteen.
"You don't have to, Bassett, but it will be for your comfort," replied Medico.
"Then don't ask me to smell the stuff, sir. When this war is over I want to look back and think of myself as a fighting man—not as a chap who had to be gassed every time the sawbones looked at him. Beg your pardon, sir."
But Medico merely smiled at being called sawbones.
"Chloroform or not, just as you like, lad," thesurgeon went on. "Either way, you can always look back with satisfaction on your record as a fighting man, for your grit is all of the right kind."
"Much obliged to you, sir, for saying that," replied the young sailor. "Ouch! Wait, please, sir. Let me get a grip on the cot frame with both hands. Now, I'm all ready, sir."
"Same old breed of Yankee sailor as always," Darrin smiled down into the lad's face while the surgeon began the painful work of extracting another shell fragment. This one being more deeply imbedded, the surgeon was obliged to make a selection of scalpel and tissue scissors and do some nerve-racking cutting. But the seaman, his hands tightly gripped on the edges of the operating table, which he had termed a cot, did not once cry out, though ice-cold sweat beaded his forehead under Darrin's warm hand.
Then a bayman washed down the enameled surface of the table, rinsing the blood away, and another attendant skilfully dressed and bandaged the second wound as he had done the first. Two baymen brought a stretcher and the lad was taken to a bunk. Here he was given a drink that, after five minutes, caused him to doze and dream fitfully of the battle through which he had lately passed.
By this time nearly all of the wounded had received first attention. Dave Darrin, followed by a junior officer, went forward to another, still smaller room, where he gazed down with heaving breast at the forms of the seamen who had given up their lives under the Stars and Stripes in the gallant work of that night.
Over the face of each dead man lay a cloth. Each cloth was removed in turn by a sailor as Darrin passed along.
"A good fighting man and a great romp on shore," said Dave, looking down at the face of one man. "One of the best fellows we ever had on any ship I've ever served on," he said, glancing at another face. "A new lad," he said, of a third, "but he joined on so recently that I know only that he was a brave young American!" And so on.
It was just as the sailor was laying the cloth back over the features of the last one in the row that a seaman sprang into the room precipitately.
"Beg pardon, sir," he called excitedly, "but telephone message, with compliments of executive officer, and commanding officer's presence is desired on the bridge—instantly!"
That surely meant business!
AsDave reached the deck he caught a fleeting glimpse of a big steamship ahead, which was revealed in the glare of the destroyer's searchlight.
But he did not stop to linger there. Up to the damaged bridge he ran as fast as he could go.
Evidently putting on her best effort at speed the steamship was moving forward fast in a zig-zagging course.
"She was working her radio and blowing her whistle, all in the same moment, sir," Lieutenant Fernald explained. "She must have seen a torpedo that passed by her. There must be a submarine somewhere, but we haven't picked up a sign of it as yet."
The ship was nearly two miles away. Having seen the destroyer's searchlight the big craft's whistle was again blowing.
"Her master hardly expects to get away from the submarine," Dave observed, and instantly turned his night glass on the dark waters to try to pick up some sign of the Hun pirate craft thatwas causing all this excitement aboard a respectable neutral liner.
"She's a Dutch craft," Dave commented. "Head in, Mr. Fernald, as that will give us a better chance to try to find out on which side of her the pest is operating. Ask her which side."
Promptly the signal flashed out from the blinkers of the "Grigsby." Plainly the excited skipper of the liner hadn't thought of offering that important bit of information.
"Starboard side, probably eight hundred yards away," came back the Dutchman's blinker response.
Dave accordingly ordered the "Grigsby" laid over to starboard and raced on to place the Yankee ship between the pirate and the intended victim.
Hardly had the course been altered, however, in the roughening sea, when a dull lurid flash some twelve or fifteen feet high was seen just under the liner's starboard bow. A cloud of smoke rose, the lower half of which was promptly washed out by a rising wave.
"That was a mine, no torpedo!" cried Dave, his eyes snapping. "Full speed ahead, Mr. Fernald, and prepare to clear away our launches. That ship cannot float long!"
Through the night glass it could be seen that throngs of passengers were rushing about thedeck of the Dutch vessel. Ship's officers were trying to quell the panic that was quite natural, for the mine, if it were such a thing, had torn a huge hole in the bow, and the liner was settling by the head.
Up raced the "Grigsby," the "Reed" arriving less than a minute afterward. Both destroyers had manned their launches, and these were now lowered and cleared away.
Even though the passengers appeared to have lost their heads, the Dutch skipper proved true to his trust. He was lowering his own boats and rafts as rapidly as he could, and making swift work of getting human beings away from the stricken ship.
Fully two-score passengers of either sex jumped. Striking the water they bobbed up again, for they had not neglected their life-belts.
In the hurry one lifeboat was overturned just before it reached the water. The "Grigsby's" leading launch raced to the spot. Half a dozen jackies promptly dove over into the icy water to give a hand to passengers too frightened to realize the importance of getting quickly away from the sinking liner.
"No more men go overboard," sternly ordered Ensign Andrews, as he saw more of his men moving to the side of the launch. "Stand by to haul the rescued aboard!"
All care was needed, for the liner was a big one, and doomed soon to take her final plunge. The suction effect on small boats would be tremendous, if they were caught too close to the scene of the foundering.
Lines were cast to jackies who were towing frightened passengers. Rescue moved along swiftly, the launches from both destroyers backing slowly away from the settling craft.
"Here y'are, lady!" coaxed one seaman from the first launch, catching a line at twenty feet and placing it in the hands of a frightened woman whose teeth chattered and who was nearly dead from the cold that the icy water sent through to the marrow of her bones. "Think y' can hold on, lady? If y' can, I can go back and help some one else."
The woman, though she spoke no English, guessed the meaning of the question, and shrieked with terror.
"Oh, all right, ma'am," the sailor went on, in a tone of good-humored resignation. "I'll make sure of you, and hope that some one else won't drown."
With one arm around her, the other hand holding tight to the rope the jacky allowed himself to be hauled in alongside the launch.
"Take this lady in, quick!" ordered Jacky. "She's about all in with the cold."
"Better come on board, too, Streeter," advised a petty officer on the launch.
"Too much to be done," replied Seaman Streeter, shoving off and starting to swim back.
"Your teeth are chattering now," called the petty officer, but Seaman Streeter, with lusty strokes, was heading for a hatless, white-haired old man whom he made out, under the searchlight glare, a hundred yards away. This man, too chilled to swim for himself, though buoyed up by a belt, Streeter brought in.
"Come on board, Streeter," insisted the same petty officer.
But surely that jacky was deaf, for he turned and once more struck out. By the time that the liner had been down four minutes, and the last visible and living person in the water had been rescued, Seaman Streeter had brought in six men and women, five of whom would surely have died of the cold had he not gone to their aid. And he had turned to swim back after a possible seventh.
Nearly six hundred passengers and members of the sunken liner's crew had been saved. Of these the greatest sufferers were taken aboard the "Grigsby" and the "Reed" and the remainder were left in the boats, which were towed astern.
Dave decided that the rescued ones should be landed at an English port twenty-two miles away. This port had rail communication and prompt,effective care could be given to these hundreds of people.
As soon as the start had been made for port, roll-call was held of those who had put off in the launches. Seaman Streeter was not present, nor even accounted for. Promptly Darrin ordered the course changed and the two destroyers went back, making careful search under the searchlights of the surface of the sea near the scene of the foundering. No trace of the missing seaman was found.
Seaman Streeter did not die in battle. He perished in the gentler but no less useful field of saving human life! An orphaned sister in Iowa, his only living near relative, gazes to-day at the appreciative letter she has received from the Navy Department at Washington. Then she turns to a longer and more glowing letter written by the, to her, strange hand of David Darrin, Lieutenant-Commander, United States Navy.
In less than two hours the destroyers, with their respective strings of towed boats, arrived at the British port and the work of transferring the rescued to shore began. Dan's dead and wounded were also sent ashore.
It was afterward reported that nine human beings were unaccounted for. Four more died in the boats on the way to land.
While the transfers to shore were being madeDan Dalzell came aboard the "Grigsby" to greet his chum. They chatted while the damaged bridge was being repaired.
"Danny-boy," Dave remarked seriously, "that exploding mine showed us clearly what is expected of us. It is our task to see that all these near-by waters are cleared of such dangerous objects."
"Surely we cannot get every mine that the Huns plant," objected Dalzell.
"We must get as many of them as we can. I know that all the British mine-sweepers are constantly on the job, but if necessary we must have more mine-sweepers. We must keep the paths of navigation better cleared than proved to be the case to-night."
"Oh, say!" expostulated Dalzell, his eyes wide open, "we simply cannot, even with twice as many mine-sweepers, find every blooming mine that the Huns choose to sow in the Channel and North Sea."
"To find and take up every mine should be our standard," Dave insisted, "and we must live as close to that standard as we possibly can."
"Then we did wrong to go after the destroyers this night?" Dan demanded, curtly.
"Of course not, for that bombardment of that defenseless little town, carried on longer, might have cost as many lives as are likely to be lost inthe case of a steamship hitting a floating mine."
"We can't do everything at the same time," Dan contended.
"Then we must strive to do ninety-nine per cent. of everything," Darrin urged, his jaws set. "Danny-boy, I feel as badly as you do when a single innocent life is lost in the area that we are held responsible for."
"How soon do you put for sea?" Dalzell asked.
"As soon as our boats return and are hoisted on board."
Darrin was as good as his word. Twenty-one minutes later, while dawn was still invisible, the two Yankee destroyers turned seaward again. There was more work, and sterner, for them to do, and it lurked just beyond!
Dawnfound the two destroyers cruising slowly northward, a little more than a mile apart.
Within sight of the bridges of the two craft were eight small, snub-nosed mine-sweepers. Frequently changing their course, these little craft were doing their utmost to pick up any mine that may have been planted just far enough under water to be struck below the water line by passing vessels.
"I suppose we're of the few who have ever seen the flash of an exploding floating mine," Dave remarked to Lieutenant Fernald. "The sea was so rough and choppy, last night, that the mine, at the instant of impact, happened to be in the trough of the sea and partly above water."
"Yes," nodded Fernald. "Had the waves been longer, the mine would have sunk to its usual depth. Had it not cost lives and a good ship, it would have been a sight worth seeing. As it was, since the lives and the ship had to be lost, I am glad that I was there to see it."
It was broad daylight now. Red streaks off in the east indicated that the sun would soon appear. But from the southwest something of at least equal interest appeared in the sky.
At the lookout's call Fernald turned to study the object in the sky through his glass.
"It's an airship, a dirigible," announced the executive officer.
"If an English dirigible, then it's all right," Dave nodded. "But, if it happens to be a German Zeppelin returning from a raid over England, then it will become our solemn duty to get the anti-aircraft gun in position and pray for a chance to take a fair shot."
"It's a craft of the smaller English dirigible pattern," Fernald announced, still studying the distant speck in the sky, which, of course, looked much larger in the field of his glass. "Yes, it's an unmistakable 'blimp'."
This latter is the slang name given to the British dirigibles.
"Better have the air-craft gun men at their station," advised Dave, and this was done.
Ten minutes later, however, the "blimp" was so close at hand that there could be no mistaking its identity. It belonged, beyond a question, to one of the squadrons of the Royal Naval Air Service.
"Radio message from the 'blimp,' sir," called amessenger, darting from the doorway of the wireless room. "Do you wish a written copy, sir?"
Lieutenant Fernald glanced at Dave, who shook his head.
"Let's have the message orally," Fernald called down to the deck.
"'Blimp' wants to know, sir, if these two craft are the 'Grigsby' and 'Reed.'"
"Tell the operator to admit the fact," Fernald ordered.
"Officer in charge of the 'blimp,' sir, says that he was to report and help you yesterday, but that the weather was too foggy."
"Tell the operator to send back: 'Good morning. Glad to have you with us. Signature, Darrin,'" Dave directed.
The seamen and petty officer at the anti-aircraft gun left their station. Straight onward came the "blimp," dropping much lower just as it passed over. From the car beneath the big gas-bag several men leaned over to wave friendly hands, a greeting that was instantly responded to by Dave's and Dan's jackies, for the dirigible, after sailing over the "Grigsby," turned and floated over the "Reed."
"Message from the 'blimp,' sir," again iterated the messenger on the deck. "Message says: 'We're to keep near you and try to spot submarines for you.'"
"More power to your vision," was the message sent back by Dave.
"You're working northward, toward the shoals?" asked "Blimp."
"Yes," Darrin acknowledged.
"That's a likely place to find one or two of the Hun pirates resting," "Blimp" continued.
"Always a good hunting ground," Dave assented, in a radio message.
This took place while the dirigible was flying back and forth, ahead and astern, between the destroyers and to either side of their course.
"It's a fine thing to be able to move at aircraft speed," said Lieutenant Fernald, rather enviously. "If we could only make such speed, sir!"
"If we could build ships that would steam sixty to a hundred miles an hour, then the enemy could build them also," Dave returned. "There would be little, if any, net gain for us. But if we could find the secret of doubling the speed of aircraft, and keep said secret from the boches, that would be an achievement that would soon end the war."
For ten miles the sweepers proceeded, with a total "catch" of only three mines, which must have been left-overs from other cruises. By this time the little fleet was approaching the nearest of the shoals, some three miles from shore.
"Blimp" was now well ahead, presently signalling back.
"Found a sea-hornet for you, resting in the mud."
"Good enough! We'll draw his sting," the "Grigsby's" radio reply promised.
Darrin caused a signal to be made to two of the mine-sweepers to come in close to him. The "Reed" still continued on her way further out.
Aircraft are of the greatest help in discovering submerged submarines. Depending on the altitude at which they fly, air observers are able to see, in reasonably smooth water, submarines that are moving at from eighty to a hundred feet beneath the surface. A submarine that is "resting" with her nose in the mud close to shore has more to fear from aircraft than from all other possible foes.
The aircraft men, though they can drop bombs upon such lurking craft, cannot do so with anything like the accuracy that is possible to the crews of vessels on the surface. Hence when aircraft and destroyers hunt together it is almost always left to the surface craft to give the "grace blow" to the resting submarine, as also to a submarine in motion beneath the waves.
As the "blimp" moved over the shoal in question a smoke bomb left the car and hovered almost motionless in the air, though briefly. This indicated that the submarine lay on the bottom directly underneath the smoke bomb.
"And the commander of that Hun craft knows that we are approaching," Darrin commented, as the "Grigsby" raced roaringly forward. "He can hear the noise of our propellers. If his engines are ready, he'll likely back off into deeper water."
Thrice more the "blimp" passed over the submarine that was invisible to surface eyes, and each time let loose a smoke bomb.
"Now, you're directly in line," came the radio message from above. "Move dead ahead. Will tell you when you are passing over. We'll signal the word 'drop'."
The meaning of "drop" would be clear enough. It would mean that the "Grigsby" was instantly to release, over the stern, a depth bomb.
As the "Grigsby" neared the spot speed was considerably reduced. Overhead hovered the "blimp," ready for instant signalling of one word. The command had already been passed to the men stationed by the depth bomb to let go as soon as the messenger gave the word from the operator.
As Darrin glanced upward he saw the "blimp" nearly overhead.
Suddenly the messenger's startled voice roared out the message passed by the radio operator:
"Full speed astern!"
In the same instant Lieutenant Fernald repeated the order over the engine-room telegraph.There was a jolting jar as the "Grigsby" shivered, then glided back in her own wake.
"Jove! That was a narrow squeak!" came down from the sky. "That hornet laid an egg in your path. It came within an ace of bumping your keel."
"Never did speed pay a prompter profit, then," uttered Darrin, his cheeks paling slightly.
For the Englishman's laconic message meant that the submarine had just proved herself to be of the mine-laying variety. Further, the Hun craft, hearing the destroyer's propellers almost overhead, had judged the moment at which to let loose a mine, which, rising to its proper level under water, would have struck the hull of the advancing destroyer.
Had that happened, the career of the "Grigsby" would have been over, and several officers' and seamen's names would have been added to the war's list of dead.
"Going to try again, sir?" asked Lieutenant Fernald, quietly, as Dave himself changed the full-speed-astern order.
"It's out of our line, I guess," Darrin confessed, with a smile. "Signal yonder mine-sweeper to close in on the job."
As a result of the message, and aided by the "blimp" overhead, the snub-nosed mine-sweeper steamed into position. First, her wire sweeperpicked up the mine that had been sprung for the "Grigsby's" undoing, and backed away.
Then, under Dave's further order, after the mine had been hoisted on board, the snub-nosed craft moved in with a different type of sweeper. To different wires of this implement were attached small but powerful contact bombs. Jauntily the snub-nosed craft moved over the lurking place of the submarine, and passed on ahead.
From the depths came muffled sounds, followed by a big and growing spread of oil on the water.
"Enemy done for!" signalled the "blimp."
"Thank you, sir. We know it," the "Grigsby" wirelessed back.
The mine-sweeper, having passed on ahead, now circled back, her crew grinning at sight of the mass of floating oil.
The contact bombs dangling from the sweep wires had struck against the submarine's hull and exploded, letting in the water at several points. The Hun seamen were even now drowning, caught without a show for their lives, just as they had probably sent many souls to graves in the ocean.
For some minutes more the dirigible moved back and forth through the air, her observers watching for the presence of hidden enemy craft. Then, without warning, came the message:
"Sorry, but engine trouble threatens and willcompel our return to land, and to our base if possible."
"The best of luck to you," Dave ordered wirelessed back to these British comrades. "We'll stand by until we're as close to shore as we can go."
For he knew that, near shore, the shoals became dangerous shallows at this point on the coast.
Away limped the "blimp," the "Grigsby" following, and standing ready to do rescue work should the dirigible need assistance.
But the "blimp" not only made her way over to shore, but vanished slowly in the distance.
All of the mine-sweepers that had come up were ordered by signal to continue sweeping over the shoals.
"I want to see more of this work personally," Dave told his executive officer, who was now to be left in command. "Clear away one of the power launches. I'll take Mr. Ormsby with me."
So Dave was taken over to one of the mine-sweeping, snub-nosed craft that had formerly been a steam trawler on the Dogger Banks. The commanding officer, Hartley, proved most glad to welcome them.
"We'll make you as comfortable as we can," promised Hartley.
"Now, please don't do anything of the sort,"Darry protested. "Let us be mere spectators, or pupils, and have no fuss made over us. Instruct your men, if you'll be good enough, to omit salutes and to chat with us, if they have a chance, like comrades or pals. We want to see your real working ways, not a demonstration."
"All right, then," sighed Mr. Hartley, and passed the orders.
"When do you men sleep?" Dave inquired of a sailor who paused to light a pipe as he stood well up in the bow.
"When the blooming ship is hin dry-dock, sir," answered the British tar.
"Don't you have regular watches?"
"Yes, sir."
"How long are the watches?"
"Usually twenty-four hours in each day, sir."
Darry laughed, for he knew no living man could stand working twenty-four hours a day for any length of time.
"You were a trawler before you came into this branch of the service?" Ormsby asked.
"No, sir. Hi was a chimney sweep; that's wot made me good for this bally old business, sir."
"You like this work?" Ormsby next asked.
"Yes, sir, hit's the next best thing to being killed, sir," was the solemn response.
"Have you seen any mine-sweepers destroyed while at work?"
Instantly the sailor dropped his bantering tone, his face becoming solemn in his expression.
"You may well say that, sir," he answered. "More mine-sweepers are lost than any other kind of naval craft."
"Why is that?"
"Principally, sir, because we 'ave only a trawler's speed, and everything else that floats, including the National Debt, can overtake us."
"Is there any scarcity of men for this sort of work?" Ormsby queried.
"No, sir, it's the 'eight hof a British sailorman's ambition, sir, to die early and be buried, sir, in water a mile deep. We fairly long for hit, sir."
"Hedgeby!" came, indignantly, from Mr. Hartley, who had approached unnoticed. "What do you mean by chaffing these American officers so outrageously."
"Must 'ave mistook my horders, sir," returned Hedgeby, saluting his commander. "Some blooming bloke told as 'ow these gentlemen wanted to be treated like pals."
"The fault is mine, I guess," admitted Mr. Hartley, turning to Darrin and Ormsby. "These men are always chaffing each other, and they thought you wanted some of the same thing."
"We don't object," Dave smiled. "If hot air is the motive power that drives these men, then we want to sample it."
Hedgeby regarded this last speaker with a puzzled expression.
"If you're talking about fuel, sir," he went on, as Mr. Hartley moved away, "Hi'll say that 'ot air engines wouldn't be no good wotever on these 'ere craft. Gasoline is what we use, mostly, for our engines, sir, though some of the biggest use petroleum."
"Hot air is furnished by the men themselves," Dave explained. "It's a favorite fuel at sea."
"Maybe, sir, maybe," admitted Hedgeby, slowly, looking as solemn as an owl. "Of course you know, sir, wot's used on the Yankee boats, anyway, sir, and if your Admiralty recommends 'ot air then no doubt hit's because you Yankees know 'ow to use it better than other fuel."
"And the joke of it is," muttered Ormsby, as Hedgeby sprang to obey an order, "one can't tell whether a chap like that is laughing at us, or trying to sympathize with our ignorance."
Dave laughed, then soon forgot the chaffing, for he was greatly interested in what he saw of the work that was being carried on. Certainly, for such a comparatively slow craft, a large area of sea surface could be covered in a forenoon.
Presently Hedgeby came back to them, and Ormsby tried once more to extract some real information.
"With the amount of speed you can command,"he resumed, "what does a craft like this do, Hedgeby, if a German destroyer comes racing along after you?"
"We just shut off speed, sir, and the blooming destroyer goes by so fast that nine times hout of ten she doesn't see us at all."
"But if the destroyer sees you and stops to engage, what then?"
Once more the quizzical expression faded from the British sailorman's eyes. He stepped back, resting one hand on a light gun mounted on a swivel pedestal.
"We do hour best with this piece, sir."
"An unequal combat, Hedgeby!"
"You may well say it, sir, but hat least we come hout of the fracas as well as does the submarine that our sweep locates on the bottom."
"Have you known of any case in which a mine-sweeper had any show at all against a German destroyer?"
"Yes, sir; this very craft was the boat, sir. The destroyer 'eld 'er fire and come hup close, sir, to 'ave fun teasing us. Only one shot we fired, sir, from our after gun, at the houtset, sir, but that one shot carried away the destroyer's rudder just below the water line. It was hall a piece of luck, sir."
"And then?" pressed Ormsby, for at last Hedgeby seemed to be imparting real information.
"Well, of course, sir, the 'Uns started hin at once to rig a jury rudder with timbers and canvas."
"Yes?"
"Naturally, sir, we didn't give 'em any time or chance we could 'elp, sir. We sailed round and round 'er, taking position so that we could play both guns on 'er at the same time. She couldn't steer, sir, to back 'er aim, that 'ere 'Un, so we banged away at 'er stacks and her water line until she was worse than 'elpless."
"Did you sink her?"
"No, sir. She was captured."
"By whom?"
"By two of 'is majesty's destroyers, sir, that came up. And maybe you think Hi'm joking, sir, w'en Hi tell you that the destroyers were credited with the capture because they made the 'Un strike 'is colors and take a prize crew."
Subsequently Dave and Ormsby learned from Mr. Hartley that this account was a true one.
"But we got a bit of credit in the public press," Hartley added, modestly.
Right after that it was reported that one of the wire sweeps had located a bomb. Instantly several men were rushed to aid in landing the prize. Dave and Ormsby hurried to join the group and watch a mine being taken aboard.
On account of its weight the deadly thing washandled by tackle. Carefully the men proceeded to hoist the mine aboard.
"You'll note the little horns standing out from the top of the mine," explained Mr. Hartley, pointing to the circular mine. "These horns are usually called studs. Hit one of these studs even a light blow with a tack hammer, gentlemen, and the mine would explode. A mine like this is more deadly than the biggest shell carried by a super-dreadnaught. Let this mine explode, for instance, under our hull forward, and it would tear us to pieces in a way that would leave us afloat for hardly sixty seconds. Moreover, it would kill any man standing at or near the rail over the point of contact."
He had no more than finished speaking, while the mine was being hoisted aboard, than a terrified gasp escaped the workers.
For the mine slipped from its tackle, and slipped back toward the water, striking the side hull in its downward course!
Dave Darrin did not move. He knew there would not be time to escape!
Splash!
The mine sank below the surface.
A quick turn by the helmsman at the wheel, and the course changed violently on the instant.
"No stud struck or scraped the side as the mine went down!" exclaimed Mr. Hartley, in a voice as cool as though he were discussing the weather. "That was what saved us."
"That, and the presence of mind displayed by your man at the wheel," Dave calmly supplemented. "That quick turn of the wheel saved your hull under the water line from striking against the infernal thing."
"I thought we were goners!" exclaimed Ormsby.
"So did I," Dave nodded, "until I saw the thing sink and then realized how prompt the helmsman had been to act without orders."
"The helmsman's act was almost routine," Hartley continued. "On a craft like this every man instinctively knows what should be done in any moment of escapable peril."
Dave now withdrew the elbow which, up to now, he had leaned against the rail. He knew that he had been within a hair's breadth of instant death, but there was nothing in his bearing to betray the fact.
Hartley quickly gave the order to put about.
"Another try for that slippery customer, eh?" queried Ormsby.
"I'd feel like a murderer, if I knowingly left that thing in the sea, to destroy some fine craft," declared Mr. Hartley, gravely. "Once we've located a mine we never leave it. We'll make the 'catch' again, but we'll inspect our tackle before we try to take it aboard. I think you gentlemen had better step back well out of the way."
"Of course we will, sir, if we are really in the way," Darrin smiled.
"You're not in our way," Hartley promptly denied. "But you will hardly care, should the tackle still be defective, to be loitering at the point of danger."
"I want to see you repair the tackle," Dave replied. "Then I want to see you make the grapple again and bring the mine safely on board."
"All right, gentlemen, if you love danger well enough to take the risk twice when you're only spectators," Hartley answered, with a shrug of his shoulders.
Again the mine was caught, grappled, and this time successfully hoisted on board.
All of this Darrin and his junior officer noted carefully, even giving a hand at the work.
Through the day at least one of the mine-sweepers continued over this line of shoal, trying constantly with the sweeps. Farther out to sea Dalzell and the "Reed" accompanied others of the craft. By nightfall it was reported that more than sixty mines had been picked up.
"The mine-layers must be actively at work in these waters," said Dave. "Undoubtedly they plant the mines at night, then toward daylight move in toward the shoal and hide there during the day. We'll try that shoal again after daylight to-morrow morning—weather permitting."
This last Darrin said because there were now lurking indications of a coming storm. Dave returned to his own craft in time.
By nine o'clock that night, or an hour after the new watch had gone on, the wind was howling through the rigging in a way that made conversation difficult on the bridge.
"Mr. Fernald, at the rate the weather is thickening I shall be on the bridge all night. I shall be glad, therefore, if after your last rounds of the ship, and after you have turned in your report, you will seek your berth and get all the sleep you can until you're called."
"Very good, sir," agreed the executive officer.
He would have liked to stand watch in Darrin's place, but he knew that, with a gale coming, Darrin would not consent.
By this time the destroyer was rolling at such an angle that the order was passed for the life-lines. Soon after that a second order was issued that all men on outside duty must don life-belts. Even up on the bridge, with an abundance of hand-holds, Dave and Ensign Andrews wore the belts.
With a nearly head wind from the northeast the "Grigsby" labored in the running seas, spray dashing over the bridge and against the rubber coats and sou'westers of the two officers. Below, on the deck, the water was sometimes several inches deep, gorging the scuppers in its flow overboard. Officers and men alike wore rubber boots.
"All secure, sir," reported Lieutenant Fernald, returning after his last rounds. "A nasty time you'll have of it, sir, to-night."
"Like some other times that I've known since I took to the sea," Dave shouted back through the gale.
Wild, indeed, was the night, yet the stars remained visible. The wind had increased still more by eight bells (midnight), when the watch again changed.
"Is the weather bad enough for you to have toremain here, sir?" asked Ensign Ormsby, respectfully.
"Yes," Darrin nodded. "I am charged with the safety of this craft."
Having gone the limit of her northerly patrol, the "Grigsby" had now headed about, dipping and lunging ahead of the wind and rolling as though the narrow craft would like nothing better than to turn turtle.
Owing to the fact that neither craft carried lights in these dangerous waters Dalzell had pulled far off. At this moment Danny Grin and the "Reed" were four miles nearer the mainland of Europe than the "Grigsby" was.
After an especially heady plunge, followed by some wild rolling from side to side, Dave shouted in his watch officer's ear:
"Ormsby, I'm going to make the round of the deck, to make sure that the life lines are all up and secure."
The ensign nodded. He would have preferred to go himself, but his place as watch officer was on the bridge.
As Dave went down the steps from the bridge a seaman on watch sprang to seize his arm and steady him.
"I've my sea-legs on," Darrin smiled at the sailor.
Then, holding the brim of his sou'-wester downbefore his face, the other hand on a life-line, Darrin cautiously made his way aft. The lines along the starboard side were secure.
At the stern stood two men, gripping the sturdy lines with both hands. Here the decks were flooded with seas coming over constantly.
Dave stood with the men for a few minutes, observing the combers that rolled against the stern, the tops breaking over the side.
"I'll have the stern watch changed every hour," he shouted at the seamen above the gale. "It's too wet to stand a full trick here. Remember, on coming off, or just before going on, to go to the galley and get your coffee."
"Thank you, sir," replied one of the men, touching the brim of his headgear.
Dave released the sternmost life-line to take a quick, oblique step toward the port lines. At that very instant a huge comber climbed aboard over the stern, the great bulk of water lifting Dave as though he were but a chip.
As he struggled for his footing he had a brief glimpse of one of the sailors battling toward him. Then a continuation of the wave carried him obliquely forward, lifting him clear of the port rail at the quarter and driving him over into the sea.
Instantly a hoarse yell rose and was repeated: "Commanding officer overboard astern, sir!"
Davedid not hear the wild, hoarse alarm. A mass of water pounded in his ears. He felt himself going down as though headed for the bottom of the sea.
During what seemed an interminable interval Darrin kept his mouth tightly shut. He did not struggle to rise to the surface, for he knew that as soon as the driving force of the water over him had expended itself his belt would carry him up to air.
And so it did. As Darrin shook the spray from his eyes he made out the "Grigsby" only as a dark mass far ahead. Then a wave blotted her out. When next he looked he saw nothing. The third time he made out a still more indistinct mass, which, he judged, was turning to come back and look for him.
"Steady, boy!" he urged himself. "The outfit aboard that craft will make every possible effort to find me. Ah, I knew it!"
For now the ray of the searchlight streamed out, trying to pierce the murkiness of the night.
"Commanding officer overboard!"
"Commanding officer overboard!"
By the shifting of the ray, too, he saw that the "Grigsby" was putting about.
"They'll pick me up soon with that light," he told himself.
He did not permit himself to reflect that, if the startled officers and men on the destroyer located him it would be by the sheerest good luck. A human head rolling among waves on a black night is a difficult object to pick up with the searchlight.
Dave now struck out enough to keep his face turned toward the light. He did not attempt to swim toward the destroyer. That long, narrow craft circled about, bringing a second searchlight to bear.
Then Dave saw the blinkers at the foremast head gleam out dully. He even read the signal:
"Lieutenant Commander Darrin overboard. Not yet located."
"That's for Dalzell's benefit," Dave told himself. "Poor old Danny-boy will be wild, and will come steaming over here at full speed. But—confound it! The 'Grigsby' is circling farther south. Evidently Fernald thinks he came back too far on his wake."
Farther and farther south went the destroyer, still sweeping the sea with her two searchlights.
Then Dave beheld, after minutes, another searchlight beam crossing the others, and knewthat Dan Dalzell, aboard the "Reed," was making anxious quest for his floating chum.
Both craft, after the "Reed" had once come within a quarter of a mile, began operating further away. There was nothing on the black, roaring waters by which to locate the spot where the "Grigsby" had been when her commander was hurled overboard.
Twenty minutes passed after the "Reed" had come up. There was more talking with the blinkers between the two craft. The destroyers moved in ever widening, and then contracting, circles, but not once did either come near enough to pick up a glimpse of that one face that held occasionally above the rolling waves.
After an hour of searching there was a sorrowful conference between the officers directing the signals on the two destroyers. They decided that every possible effort had been made, and that Lieutenant Commander Darrin was surely lost.
Indeed, at about that time Dave, though he was too far away and dashed with too much spray to read the signals, had about given up hope.
Chilled to the bone by the icy waters, he had at first striven to keep himself warm by such exercise as he could apply. But now he was weakening.
Had it not been for the unusual vigor of his constitution he would have been dead by this time.It was now only a question of a little more time when he must freeze to death.
"All right, Davy-boy," he reflected, almost drowsily. "While you were alive you managed to do a few things! But poor Belle! I hope this isn't going to upset her too much!"
Even the thought of his loved young wife did not stir him much, which showed, indeed, that Darrin was near the end of his vital resources and that he must soon give up his struggle.
After a while the instinct of desperation seized him. With a last summoning of his strength he began fighting for his life.
"I won't freeze!" he cried, between grinding teeth. "I can keep moving a good while yet. I won't allow myself to die here. That would be no better than suicide!"
For a few minutes more he continued to use arms and feet in a determined effort to warm his blood against the numbing cold.
"Ha, here comes one of the destroyers, right now," Dave laughed, hysterically, as a form loomed up in the night and came toward him.
Indeed, that dark mass, which presently resolved itself into the hull of a steamship battling with the gale, seemed bent on running him down.
Nearer and nearer it came. Dave tried to shout, but found his voice too weak to be heard above the roar of wind and wave. Though hefought desperately to get out of the course of the oncoming hull, the rolling waters washed him back.
His efforts, however, had availed him somewhat, for, though he was so close that he could almost touch the hull as the bow passed him, Darrin felt that he could avoid being run down by the ship.
He tried to shout again, but only hoarse noises came from his throat. Then something splashed close to him as it struck the water. A wave washed Darrin against a rope. With all the force left in his hands he twined his fingers around the strands.
Then, though Dave did not see it, a face peered over the rail above. There came a tug at the rope, but Dave would not let go. He found himself being dragged slowly along with the hull of this craft that was battling a head wind.
When the man above found that he could not haul up the rope he peered down at the water, then set up a yell in some strange jargon.
An instant later a second face appeared behind the first. The bright gleam of a pocket flash-lamp cut the blackness to the water. There was a second exclamation, quickly followed by a command.
A third man joined the other two at the rail. Dave blinked upward at the pocket flash-lamp.He saw something descending, heard a faint whish above the noise of the gale, and felt a noose drop down over his head and shoulders.
Just how he did it Darrin cannot remember, even now, but he managed to slip that noose first under one arm pit, then the other, all the time keeping a desperate hold of the trailing rope.
A pull from above, then a dull throb of hope sent the blood through Darrin's frame as he felt the noose gather tightly under his arms. Slowly, his body bumping against the rolling hull, he felt himself moving upward.
Ready hands seized and hauled him in over the rail. At that instant Dave's senses forsook him. He collapsed on the deck, a limp, huddled, drenched human form.
Nor could he judge how much later it was when he opened his eyes again. But cold? Not a bit of it! He felt as though he were in a furnace room. Stripped, he lay in a berth, two stalwart sailors rubbing him under the direction of a third person, while a fourth was slowly forcing a hot drink down his throat. It was a strangling cough, on account of some of the fluid entering his wind-pipe, that had brought him back to consciousness.
Opening his eyes, Dave lay quietly, enjoying the warmth after his bitter experience. He noticed that the sailors who were rubbing him were dripping with perspiration. Indeed, they had aright to drip, for the steam in this little cabin had been turned on through two separate services.
Dave tried to speak, but all he could say was:
"Ugh!"
"Good! You don't feel chilled, now?" questioned the man who held the hot drink to his lips.
"Gracious, no!" Darrin whispered, hoarsely. "I'm roasting."
The man spoke to the sailors, who stopped their rubbing and spread a few thicknesses of blanket over him.
Dave's next realization was that this unknown craft did not roll so heavily as might be expected. He reasoned that the ship must be a freighter of broad beam.
Languor was stealing over him as the questioner asked:
"How do you feel?"
"Like having a big sleep," Dave whispered drowsily. His eyes closed and he dozed even before he could think to wonder if his brother officers on the "Grigsby" and "Reed" knew that he was all right.