In the Grand Harbor, overlooked by the town and fortress of Valetta, on the island of Malta, there lay at anchor the British dreadnaught "Albion," the cruiser "Wrexham" and the gunboat "Spite."
Less than half a mile away lay the American battleships "Hudson" and "Allegheny" and the cruiser "Newton."
It was early evening now. During the day, soon after the arrival of the American craft, the usual visits of courtesy had been exchanged between the two fleets.
Admiral Barkham, of His Majesty's Navy, received a most disagreeable shock while in conference in Admiral Timworth's quarters. In other words, he had been accurately informed of all that was so far known to the American fleet commander.
"But it is impossible," declared Admiral Barkham. "Quite impossible!"
"It would seem so," replied Admiral Timworth. "Yet the outcome will be the best proof in thematter. Sir, with your help, I propose to catch that submarine, should she appear in these waters."
"She will not appear," declared the Englishman. "I am convinced that such a thing is impossible. Only madmen would undertake to accomplish such a horrible thing. True, we have enemies who employ submarines in this war, but they do not dare to use them in attacking battleships. Nor would plotters without the backing of a government dare try it."
Then Admiral Timworth caused Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell to be summoned. They came. Admiral Barkham listened to their story, his gaze all the time fixed on their earnest faces.
It was impossible to doubt the word of two such intelligent young officers. Admiral Barkham found his doubts vanishing. He was prepared to admit that such a crime as he had heard discussed might be in course of planning.
"Of course I know the fellow Gortchky," admitted Admiral Barkham, "and also that trouble-breeder, Dalny. Yet this is something amazingly more desperate than they have ever attempted before. I now admit, sir," turning to Admiral Timworth, "that there is good reason to suppose that such a plot may be afoot."
"The 'Maine' was sunk in Havana Harbor," rejoined the American Admiral, dryly. "Thatincident sent two nations to war. Might not something like the 'Maine' affair be attempted here in Valetta Harbor?"
Sitting with bowed head the British admiral looked most uncomfortable.
"At all events," he said, "it is certainly a matter of duty for the officers of both fleets to be on the lookout, and for them to work in concert. Yet I still find it all but impossible to believe what my judgment tells me might be possible."
"You are going to advise the officers of your fleet, then?" asked Admiral Timworth.
"I think so," replied the Englishman slowly.
"In the American fleet," said Admiral Timworth, "very few officers will be told outside of those who are going to be charged with keeping a lookout for the submarine."
At a sign Dave and Dan withdrew, leaving the two fleet commanders in earnest conversation.
"It's hard for an Englishman to conceive of such a crime as being possible, isn't it?" asked Dan, with a melancholy grin.
"Perhaps it's to the honor of his manhood that he cannot believe in it," Dave answered gently, as the chums sat in the latter's quarters.
Dave and Dan had been excused from ship duty on account of other duties that were likely to be assigned to them at any time.
"Admiral Barkham listened to their story.""Admiral Barkham listened to their story."
Half an hour after the chums left the Admiral'squarters an orderly summoned them to Captain Allen's office.
"Both admirals are convinced," said Captain Allen, when Dave and Dan had reported, "that the crime, if it is to be attempted, will be tried at night. As there are still a few hours before dark Admiral Timworth wishes you to take one of the launches and go alongside the British flagship. There will you find three or four young British officers ready to join you. You will all go ashore in Valetta and remain there until nearly dark. You will circulate about the town, as sight-seers usually do. While ashore you will keep your eyes open for glimpses of the Gortchky-Dalny plotters and their subordinates, whom you may find there. Admiral Timworth particularly desires to know whether any of that unsavory crew have reached Malta."
The launch being ready alongside, Dave and Dan, both in uniform, went at once over the side. They were soon alongside the "Albion," and a voice from deck invited them aboard. There the officer of the deck introduced them to four young English officers. Three minutes later the party went aboard the launch, and headed toward shore.
Outside of the forts and garrison buildings the town is a small one, though at this time there were several places of amusement open on two of the principal streets.
Through these places the party strolled, seemingly bent only on having a good time.
"Have you seen any of the bally spies?" murmured one of the young English officers, Whyte by name.
"Not a sign of one," Dave answered in a low tone.
"What if they're not here?" persisted Whyte.
"It may be that none of them will show up at Malta," Darrin answered. "Or it may be that those who do come will come only on that submarine we are looking for."
"I would like to meet one of those plotters," grumbled Dorcliffe, another of the English party and the possessor of a bulky frame and broad shoulders.
"What would you do?" asked Dave smilingly.
"I believe I'd jolly well choke the breath out of him!" asserted Mr. Dorcliffe.
"That would betray the fact that we know the gang and the work that they're planning," Dave returned.
"Would it?" asked Mr. Dorcliffe, looking thoughtful. "Oh, I say! It's bally hard work to contend with such bounders. Why can't all men fight in the open?"
"Real men do," Dave answered. "The fellows we are trying to run down are not real men. Beings who can do wholesale murder for pay arebad beyond the comprehension of honest men."
"But we're not finding any one that we want to see," complained Sutton, another of the English party.
"I didn't expect to find that crew on parade," Dave replied, "and I think it extremely likely that none of them is now in Valetta or on the Island of Malta."
Then all fell silent, for the leaders of the party had turned in at one of the cafés most frequented by visitors.
There were but few people at the tables. Glancing across the room Dave felt a sudden throb of astonishment and disgust.
Hastily rising from a table was a young man who averted his face.
"There's the Count of Surigny!" whispered Dave to Whyte.
An instant later a door at the side of the room closed almost noiselessly, with the young French nobleman on the other side of it.
"Did you see that fellow?" Dave demanded, hoarsely.
"We did," came the acknowledgment of Dave's group.
"That is Surigny," Darrin informed them. "He is the fellow whom I saved from suicide at Monte Carlo, and now he is in the ranks of themen who have planned the worst crime of the twentieth century. Surigny is now where his follies have placed him—associated with the vilest creatures who disgrace the name of Man!"
The party had seated themselves at a table where beverages and refreshments are served. A tireless Italian soprano and a Russian tenor were grinding out some of the stock music of the place. Two dancers were waiting to follow them.
The naval officers looked bored. They were not in this café for pleasure, but strictly for business—that of national honor.
A waiter strolled leisurely into the room, looked about, then approached the table at which the American and English officers were seated. Dropping a towel at Dave's side, the waiter bent over to pick it up, at the same time slyly pressing into Dave's hand a piece of paper.
Holding it under the table and glancing at it, Dave found it carried a brief message in French. Translated, it read:
"For vital reasons, I beg you to follow the waiter, who can be trusted, and come to me at once. Come alone and secretly. Honor depends upon your compliance! S."
"Surigny!" muttered Ensign Darrin, disgustedly, under his breath. "That impossible scoundrel! He has sold himself to those plotters, and now would betray me. The wretch!"
Yet, after a moment's thought, Dave decided to see the man.
Bending over, Dave whispered to Dan the message contained in the note.
"Are you going?" quivered Dan, his eyes flashing indignation.
"Yes."
"And I?"
"You will remain here, Dan. Tell the others if you can do so without being overheard. Make my excuses after I have left you."
Then, his head erect, his heart pumping indignantly, Dave Darrin rose and sought the waiter, who lingered at the end of the room.
"You know what is expected of you?" Dave asked the waiter, in an undertone.
"Yes, Master," replied the man, a Maltese who spoke English with an odd accent.
"Then I will follow you," Darrin added.
At the heels of the waiter Dave went through a narrow corridor, then climbed a flight of stairs.
Pausing before a door, the waiter knocked softly, four times.
"Entrez, s'il vous plaît" ("Come in, if you please"), a voice answered.
Throwing open the door, the waiter bowed and swiftly departed.
Ensign Dave Darrin stepped inside, closed the door, and found himself face to face with the Count of Surigny.
That young Frenchman, his face unwontedly pale, searched Dave's face with his eyes.
"You are not glad to see me," he said at last.
"Do I show it?" inquired Darrin, his face without expression.
"You are not glad to see me," Surigny went on rather sadly. "Then it is because you suspect."
"Suspect—what?" Dave demanded, to gain time.
"You know the company that I have been keeping," the young Count continued.
"Has it been the wrong kind of company for a gentleman to keep?" Ensign Darrin asked coldly.
"You know!" cried the Count bitterly.
"Then," asked Dave, "is it indiscreet for me to ask why you have permitted yourself to associate with such company?"
"I doubt if you would believe me," replied Surigny, wincing.
"Is there any good reason why I should believe you?" Dave returned, studying the Frenchman's face.
"Perhaps none so good as the fact that I am a gentleman," the Count of Surigny answered more boldly. "The word of a gentleman is always sacred."
"May I ask to what this talk is leading?"
"I hardly know how to proceed with you," complained the young Frenchman. "Once you did me a great service. You taught me to live and that to die by my own hand was cowardice. Monsieur, you taught me how to be a man."
"And you have remembered the lesson?" Dave inquired, with the same expressionless face.
"I at least know," the Frenchman returned, "that a man should remember and serve his friends."
"Then you have been serving me?"
"I have been working hard, swallowing insult and stifling my sense of decency as far as possible, in order that I might serve you and prove myself worthy to be your friend," replied Surigny, with such earnestness that Darrin now found himself staring in open-eyed astonishment at the young nobleman.
"Perhaps you are going to try to offer me particulars of how you have been preparing to serve me," Dave said with a shrug.
"Monsieur," cried the Frenchman, as if in sudden desperation, "are you prepared to accept my word as you would wish your own to be accepted?"
"Wouldn't that be asking considerable of a comparative stranger?"
"Then answer me upon your own honor, Monsieur Darrin," the Count of Surigny appealed eagerly. "Do you consider me a gentleman or—a rascal?"
Ensign Dave opened his lips, then paused. He was now asked to speak on his own honor.
His pallor giving way to a deep flush, Surigny suddenly opened his lips to speak again.
"Monsieur Darrin," he urged, his voice quavering, "do me the honor to look in my eyes. Studyme from the viewpoint of an honest man. Tell me whether you will believe what I have to say to you. Do not be too quick. Take time to think."
As Dave found himself gazing into the depths of the other's eyes, and as he studied that appealing look, he felt his contempt for Surigny rapidly slipping away.
"Now, speak!" begged M. le Comte de Surigny. "Will you believe what I am about to tell you, as one man of honor speaks to another?"
For an instant Ensign Dave hesitated. Then he answered quickly:
"Yes; I will believe you, Monsieur le Comte."
"In doing so, do you feel the slightest hesitation?"
"Naturally," rejoined Darrin, a slight smile parting his lips, "I am assailed by some doubts as to whether I am wise in doing so, but I will believe what you have to say to me. I prefer to believe you to be, of your own choice, a man of honor."
Surigny uttered a cry of delight. Then he went on:
"Perhaps, Monsieur Darrin, you will even be willing to set me the example in truthfulness by telling me whether you know of the plot of those with whom I have had the shame of being associated."
"You will doubtless recall, Monsieur le Comte, since it was said only a moment ago, that I promised only to believe what you might have to say to me. I did not promise to tell you anything."
Indeed, at this point, Ensign Dave was perilously near to breaking his word as to believing Surigny. It looked to him as if the Frenchman were "fencing" in order to extract information.
"Well, then," exclaimed Surigny, with a gesture of disappointment, "I will tell you that which I feel I must. Listen, then. With Gortchky, Mender, Dalny and others, I have been engaged in a plan to cause a British warship to be sunk in the harbor yonder, and under circumstances such as to make it appear as the work of you Americans. Did you know that, Monsieur?"
"Go on," urged Dave Darrin.
"At first," murmured the Count, coming closer, "I believed Gortchky's statement that I was being engaged in secret diplomatic service. When I learned the truth, I was deeply involved with the miserable crew. Also, I was very much in debt, for Gortchky was ever a willing lender.
"There came a day, Monsieur, when there dawned on me the vileness of the wicked plot in which I had become engaged. For a few hours I felt that to destroy myself was the only way in which I could retrieve my honor. But the lesson you had taught served me well in those hours ofneed. Then the thought of you, an officer in the American Navy, brought a new resolve into my mind. No pledges that I had ignorantly made to such scoundrels could bind me. I was not their slave. Pledges to do anything that could bring dishonor upon one are not binding on a man of honor. I did not even feel a sense of debt to Gortchky, for he had used the money with evil intentions. From the moment of these realizations I had but one object in view. I would go on taking such money as I needed, and with no thought of the debt; and I would serve these monsters with such seeming fidelity that I could at last find my way open to servingyoufully, Monsieur Darrin. I pause for an instant. Do you believe all that I have just told you, my friend?"
"Yes," answered Dave. The next second he caught himself wondering if, through that "yes," he had unintentionally lied.
"I left Naples for this island on an east-bound liner," continued the Count of Surigny. "Not until within an hour of sailing did I know the whole of the terrible story that now spoils my sleep at night and haunts me by day. Monsieur Darrin, if you have scented any dreadful plot, at least I do not believe you know just what it is."
Once more the young Frenchman paused. Dave, however, having regained his expressionless facial appearance, only said:
"Go on, Monsieur le Comte."
"Then I have but to tell you what the plot is," resumed Surigny. "Gortchky, Mender, Dalny and others knew that the American fleet would stop at Malta, because American fleets in these waters always do stop at Malta. They knew also that a British fleet often remains here for months at a time. So these arch scoundrels knew to a certainty that the 'Hudson' of your Navy would be here in due course of time. In a word, every plan has been made for sinking a Britishbattleship here at Malta under circumstances which will make it appear to be plainly the work of a group of American naval men."
Darrin, still silent, steadily eyed the Frenchman.
"You do not start!" uttered Surigny, in amazement. "Then it must be because you already know of the plot!"
"Go on, please," urged Dave quietly.
"The plan must have been made long ago," the Frenchman continued, "for, before August, 1914, before the great war started, though just when I do not know, Gortchky and the others, or their superiors, had a submarine completed at Trieste. It was supposed to be a secret order placed for the Turkish government. The craft was not a large one. Gortchky and some associates took the submarine out for trial themselves. Days later they returned, reporting that the underseas craft had foundered, but that they had escaped to land in a collapsible boat. Most of the payments on the submersible had already been made. Gortchky paid the balance without protest, and the matter was all but forgotten.
"I do not know what reason Gortchky had given the builder, if indeed he offered any explanation, but the tubes in the submarine had been made of the right dimensions and fitted with the right mechanism to fire the Americantorpedo. And a man whom I judge to have been a German spy in America before the war—a German who had served as draftsman in the employ of an American munitions firm—was at Trieste to furnish the design for both the torpedo tubes and for the four American torpedoes that the Trieste firm also supplied.
"You will have divined, of course, Monsieur Darrin," Surigny continued, "that the submarine was not lost, but concealed at a point somewhere along the shores of the Mediterranean until wanted. So far ahead do some enemies plot! Where the submarine has remained during the interval I do not know, but I do know that, submerged only deep enough for concealment, she has been towed to these waters recently by relays of fishing boats manned by Maltese traitors to Britain. Ah, those rascally Maltese! They know no country and they laugh at patriotism. They worship only the dollar, and are ever ready to sell themselves! And the submarine will endeavor to sink the British battleship to-night!"
"To-night!" gasped Darrin, now thoroughly aroused.
"To-night," Surigny nodded, sadly, his face ghastly pale. "Even the yacht that carries the plotters is here."
"These are hardly the times," Dave remarked, "when it would seem to any naval commandera plausible thing for a yacht to cruise in the submarine-infested Mediterranean. And, if the plotters are using and directing the movements of a yacht, I am unable to see how they could obtain clearance papers from any port."
"Oh, the yacht's sailing papers are correct," Surigny declared, eagerly. "The yacht has Russian registry and is supposed to be sold to Japanese buyers to be put in trade between the United States and Japan, carrying materials from which the Japanese make Russian munitions of war. So you will see how plausible it is to be engaged in transferring a Russian yacht to Japanese registry at this time."
"Humph!" grunted Darrin. "It seems a stupid thing, indeed, for any Japanese shipping firm to buy a low, narrow craft, like the typical yacht, to convert her into a freighter."
"Ah, but the yacht is neither low nor narrow," replied Surigny. "She is a craft of some three thousand tons, broad of beam and with plenty of freeboard."
"What flag does she fly?" Dave asked.
"That I do not know," was the Count's answer. "It may be that she does not fly any. Two of her passengers are reported to be a Russian prince and a Japanese marquis. But Monsieur Mender is not a Russian at all, and no more a prince than he is a Russian. As for the Japanese,he is merely a Filipino, once a mess attendant in your Navy, and now a deserter, for he hates your country."
"When will the yacht reach these waters?" Dave inquired.
"As I have said, she is here already, or as near as she will come," the Frenchman continued. "At noon she was at anchorage in the channel between the islands of Comino and Gozo. It is known as the North Channel."
"I know the spot," said Dave, nodding. "Comino is the little island that is used as a quarantine station. Monsieur le Comte, do you know anything more, of importance, that you have not already told me?"
"Monsieur Darrin, I believe that nothing of importance has been left out of my narrative. But you believe me? You will now accept my hand?"
"Yes," Dave burst out, extending his hand almost impulsively. M. le Comte Surigny seized it delightedly.
"Ah, it is good, it is grand!" cried the young Frenchman, "after such associates as I have had for weeks, to find myself again fit for the confidence and the friendship of a gentleman!"
"But what will become of you?" asked Dave, a feeling of regret suddenly assailing him. "What will become of you, my dear Surigny? Is itlikely that the plotters, if they be foiled, will suspect you? Is it likely that they would seek your life as a forfeit?"
"What is my life?" laughed the Frenchman gayly. "I have never valued it highly, but now, when I have won back my self-respect, a blow in the dark would be but a mark of honor. If they wish to kill me, let them. It would be a glorious death, in the cause of honor!"
Dave glanced out of the window, then gave a start of alarm.
"Time is passing," he murmured. "I must take my information where it will be of the most service. And you, Surigny, may I take the liberty, without waiting to ask our Admiral's leave, of inviting you to accept the hospitality of the flagship? Will you come on board with me?"
"Afterward," replied the Frenchman. "Afterward, when the truth of what I have told you is recognized."
"Where will you stay for the present, then?"
"Where I am now," smiled the Count.
Dave took one long step forward, again gripping Count Surigny's right hand with both his own hands.
"Surigny, I am under more obligations than I can ever repay. Few men with the instinct of a gentleman could have endured, for weeks, having to associate with and serve such rascalsas this grewsome crew. You have, indeed, proved yourself noble, and I deeply regret that I have ever allowed myself to distrust and dislike you."
"Let us say no more," begged the Count. "After the chase is over—and may you win the game—you will find me here, reveling in the thought that I have been able to warn you so completely."
Had it not been that he again remembered how late it was growing, Ensign Darrin would have remained longer with this now bright-faced Frenchman. As it was, Dave tore himself away from Surigny, and lost no time in rejoining his party below.
As Dave stepped to the table, Lieutenant Whyte, of the British Navy, raised his eyebrows in slight interrogation. None spoke.
"I don't know," smiled Darrin, "how it goes with you gentlemen of England, but I am sure Dalzell will agree with me that it is time to get back to our ship."
"It is," Dalzell affirmed, taking the cue.
The score was settled, after which the party left the hotel. Dave stepped to Whyte's side. Through the streets of the little town the party passed quickly by twos, gayly chatting. Once they were clear of the streets and near the mole Dave began:
"Mr. Whyte, the moment for action is at hand. Surigny sent for me, and I believe he has told me the truth. He felt under obligations, and, when invited, joined the international plotters in order to find out how he could serve me. He has told me that a yacht bearing the supervising plotters is now anchored in North Channel, and that the submarine is concealed somewhere under neighboring waters. It is the intention of the plotters to attempt to sink one of your ships to-night."
"Do you believe the fellow?" demanded Whyte in a shocked tone.
"At first I found it hard to believe him," Dave admitted, "but now I believe that he told me the truth."
"And if he has not?" questioned the British officer.
"In any event, Whyte, the yacht must be watched. However, your Admiral Barkham will have to decide what action shall be taken."
"Do you know whether others of the crew, besides Surigny, are in Valetta?" Whyte asked.
"I did not ask Surigny," Dave rejoined. "Indeed, it is not important to know. What we must do is to catch the submarine; the conspirators may wait for subsequent overhauling."
At Darrin's signal the launch from the flagship promptly put off. Darrin ordered that theEnglish officers be put aboard their own ship first. As the launch drew alongside the "Albion" Dave added:
"Mr. Whyte, I shall wait until you ascertain whether your Admiral has any message to send to Admiral Timworth. That, of course, would be after hearing your report."
For ten minutes the "Hudson's" launch lay alongside the "Albion." Then Mr. Whyte appeared, coming nimbly down the gangway and stepping into the launch.
"With Admiral Barkham's compliments, I am to carry a message to Admiral Timworth," Whyte announced. "I am also to inquire whether your Captain desires a conference with Admiral Timworth before I deliver my message."
Dave conducted the English officer aboard the American flagship. Captain Allen soon received them. He heard Ensign Darrin's report, then telephoned to Admiral Timworth for permission to bring to his quarters the English admiral's representative, together with his own youngest officers.
Admiral Timworth received them, listening attentively to the report that Dave had to make of his conversation with the Count of Surigny.
"Do you believe that the Frenchman was telling the truth?" the fleet commander inquired. Dave answered in the affirmative.
"Does your message from Admiral Barkham concern the Frenchman's report?" inquired Admiral Timworth, turning to Whyte, who had kept modestly in the background.
"It does, sir," Lieutenant Whyte answered, stepping forward. "Admiral Barkham's compliments, sir, and he has used the wireless to the quarantine station on Comino Island. Such a yacht as the Count of Surigny described is at anchor in North Channel, and is reported to have a Russian prince and a Japanese nobleman on board. So Admiral Barkham gives at least that much credence to the Frenchman's story."
Whyte paused a moment, that Admiral Timworth might speak, if he chose, then continued:
"Admiral Barkham imagines, sir, that you would like to have a share in searching the yacht and in guarding against submarine attack. To that end, sir, he signaled to the military governor at Malta and secured the latter's assent to a plan of having the American naval forces co-operate with us in running down the plot."
"Of course we shall be glad to aid," declared Admiral Timworth, heartily, "and we are much complimented over being invited to help you in British waters."
Lieutenant Whyte then unfolded, briefly, the plan of Admiral Barkham for procedure against the yacht and the submarine. To these plans Admiral Timworth quickly agreed.
"We have four large launches on the flagship," the fleet commander stated. "Three of these shall be put over the side, officered and manned and ready for instant service."
"Admiral Barkham also suggests, sir, that, during the night, the officers in command of your launches run without lights, when possible, for secrecy," Whyte continued.
"How many launches will Admiral Barkham put in service?" Admiral Timworth inquired.
"Three, sir," responded Whyte.
"Who will be the ranking officer in your fleet of launches?"
"I believe I am to be, sir," Lieutenant Whyte replied, bowing.
"Very good," nodded Admiral Timworth. "It would not be courteous, in British waters, Mr.Whyte, for me to appoint an officer who would rank yourself, so I shall ask Captain Allen to designate Ensign Darrin as ranking officer in our launch fleet. Ensign Dalzell will naturally command another of the launches. Who will command the third, Captain?"
"Ensign Phillips," replied Captain Allen.
The courtesy of appointing an ensign to head the American launch fleet lay in the fact that an ensign is one grade lower in the service than a junior lieutenant. When naval forces of different nations act together the ranking officer, no matter what country he represents, is in command. Had Admiral Timworth put his launch fleet in charge of a lieutenant commander, for instance, then the British launches, too, would have been under the command of the American officer. As it was, Lieutenant Whyte would be ranking and commanding officer in the combined launch fleet. This was both right and courteous, as Malta is an English possession, and the waters near by are British waters.
Plans were briefly discussed, yet with the thoroughness that is given to all naval operations. Lieutenant Whyte departed, and Ensign Phillips was sent for. Admiral Timworth and Captain Allen charged the young officers with their duties, upon the successful performance of which so much depended.
"Remember, gentlemen," was Captain Allen's final word, "that, in line with what the Admiral has stated, you are merely to co-operate with, and act under the orders of, the British ranking officer. Yet, if occasion arise, you will display all needed initiative in attaining the objective, which is the capture of the scoundrelly plotters and the seizure of the submarine before it can work any mischief. You will even sink the submarine by ramming, if no other course be open to stop her wicked work."
Each of the flagship's launches was equipped with a searchlight. While the council was going on in the Admiral's quarters the electricians of the ship were busy overhauling these searchlights and making sure that all were in perfect working order.
From the British flagship came a prearranged signal to the effect that Lieutenant Whyte was about to put off.
Dave's launch crew comprised, besides machinists and the quartermaster, twenty-four sailors and eight marines. A one-pound rapid-fire gun was mounted in the bow, and a machine gun amidships.
"Send your men over the side, Ensign Darrin," Captain Allen ordered, as he took Dave's hand. "Go, and keep in mind, every second, how much your work means to-night."
"Aye, aye, sir," Dave answered.
When the word was passed, Dave's launch party was marched out on deck and sent down over the side. Dave Darrin took his place in the stern, standing by to receive any further instructions that might be shouted down to him. "Cast off and clear!" called down the executive officer.
Dan Dalzell, whose launch party was not to clear until a later hour, waved a hand at his chum. Dave waved back in general salute.
At the same time Lieutenant Whyte put off from the "Albion" and sped onward to meet the American craft.
"We are to sail in company to North Channel," called Whyte.
"Very good, sir," Dave answered, saluting.
With three hundred feet of clear water between them, the launches moved rapidly along.
The distance to the middle of North Channel was about fifteen miles. Time and speed had been so calculated that the yacht should not be able to sight them by daylight. After dark the two launches were to maneuver more closely together, and Whyte, who knew the North Channel, was to be pilot for both craft until it came time to use their searchlights.
Over in the west the sun went down. Darkness soon came on. Neither launch displayed evenrunning lights. One had a sense of groping his way, yet the launches dashed along at full speed.
Dave Darrin was now in the bow, with the signalman at his side, who would turn on the searchlight when so ordered. With his night glasses at his eyes, Ensign Dave could tell when the British launch veered sharply to port or starboard, and thus was able to steer his own course accordingly.
Twelve minutes later a brief ray shot from the Englishman's searchlight. It was the signal.
"Turn on your light," Dave ordered to the man at his side. "Swing it until you pick up the North Channel. Then pick up and hold a yacht—"
Ensign Darrin followed with the best description he had of the strange yacht.
Less than a minute later the lights on both navy launches had picked up the strange yacht, well over in the Channel. Dave studied her through his glass.
"That's the craft," Darrin muttered to himself. "My, but she looks her part! While she isn't large for a freighter, she's well calculated for that class of work."
"Your best speed ahead, sir!" shouted Whyte, through a megaphone. "Board the yacht on her starboard quarter. Quick work, sir!"
"Very good, sir!" Dave called back.
Then he stepped swiftly amidships to the engineers.
"Get every inch of speed to be had out of the engines, my man."
Next, to the helmsman:
"Quartermaster, steer straight ahead and make that yacht's starboard quarter!"
As Dave turned, he found his own face within three inches of Seaman Runkle's glowing countenance.
"Runkle," Dave smiled, "we are fond of the Englishmen. Their commanding officer called for our best speed, and we're going to show it."
"Aye, aye, sir!" grinned Runkle. "When any foreigner asks for the best we have in speed, he's likely to see it, sir."
Already the "Hudson's" launch had drawn smartly ahead of the British craft, and the distance between them grew steadily, though the Englishman was doing his best to keep up in the race.
Under the yacht's stern dashed the launch, and brought up smartly under the starboard quarter, laying alongside.
"Hullo, there! Vat you call wrong?" demanded a voice in broken English from the yacht's rail.
"Naval party coming aboard, sir," Dave responded courteously. "Take a line!"
"I vill not!" came the defiant answer.
"All the same, then," Dave answered lightly. "Bow, there! Make fast with grapple. Stern, do the same!"
Two lines were thrown, each with a grappling hook on the end. These caught on the yacht's rail. Three or four sailormen, one after the other, climbed the grappling lines. Two rope ladders were swiftly rigged over the side, by the Americans on the yacht's deck. Dave Darrin was quickly on board, with twenty of his seamen and all his marines, by the time that the English launch rounded in alongside the port quarter.
"You? Vat you mean?" demanded a short, swarthy-faced man, evidently captain of the yacht, as he peered at Dave's party. "You are American sailors!"
"Right," Darrin nodded.
"And dese are British vaters!"
"No matter," Dave smiled back at the blustering fellow. "Here come the Englishmen."
For he had sent four of his men to catch and make fast the lines from the British launch, and now the British jack-tars, taking their beating in the race good-humoredly, were piling on board.
"Captain," cried Lieutenant Whyte, striding forward, "I represent Admiral Barkham, ranking officer of His Majesty's Navy in these waters.I have the Admiral's orders to search this craft."
"You search him for vat, sir?" demanded the skipper.
"My orders are secret, sir. The search will begin at once. Ensign Darrin, if you will leave your marines to hold the deck, we will use all our seamen and yours below."
"Very good, sir," Dave replied, saluting. "You do not wish any one allowed to leave the yacht, do you, Lieutenant?"
"Not without my permission or yours, Ensign."
Dave accordingly gave the order to the corporal in charge of his marine party.
In another minute American and English tars were swarming below decks on the yacht.
On deck and in the wheel house Darrin had not seen more than four men of the yacht's crew, besides the skipper.
"There do not seem to be any men below," Dave muttered, as he explored the yacht between decks. "I wonder if that skipper gets along with four deck hands in addition to his engine-room and steward forces."
His men in squads, under petty officers, worked rapidly. Dave Darrin moved more slowly, passing on into the dining cabin and the social hall of the yacht, which were below decks.
Adjoining the social hall were several cabins.Dave threw open the doors of the first few he came to, finding in them no signs of occupation.
Then a steward, smiling and bowing, appeared and asked him in French:
"Do you seek any one here?"
"You have a Prince aboard?" Dave asked.
"Even so."
"And a Japanese nobleman?"
"We have."
"I wish to see them."
"Both are resting at present," the steward expostulated.
"I must see them immediately," Dave insisted.
"It is hardly possible, sir," protested the steward. "It is not to be expected that I can disturb such august guests."
"Steward, do you wish me to summon my men and have these cabin doors battered down?"
"Do not do that!" urged the steward in alarm. "Wait! I have pass-keys. Which would you see first?"
"The Prince, by all means."
"I will admit you to his room, Monsieur, and next silently slip away. But be good enough to let the Prince believe that he left his door unlocked. This way, monsieur."
Finishing his whispered speech, the steward glided ahead. He unlocked a cabin door, opening it but a crack. Dave stepped softly inside.Instantly the door was pulled shut and locked.
Through transoms on opposite sides of the cabin Mender and Dalny showed their evil faces, as each trained on the young naval officer an ugly-looking naval revolver.
"Make a sound, and you feed the fishes, my fine young naval dandy!" hissed Dalny.
"Pooh!" retorted Dave, contemptuously. "Order your steward to unlock that door, or I shall be put to the trouble of smashing it down with my shoulder."
"And be shot in the back while you are doing it," jeered Mender.
"I haven't had the honor of meeting you before, but I take it that you are the bogus Russian Prince," laughed Dave. "Just now, though, you look much more like an apprentice to the Black Hand."
"You should be saying your prayers, instead of talking impudence," sneered Dalny.
"As for this cardboard Prince, words fail me," mocked Dave, still speaking in French, "but as for you, Dalny, I have already tested your courage, and know it to be worthless. You are a coward, and would not dare to use that revolver, knowing, as you must, that my men are aboardand would tear you to pieces. Go ahead and shoot, if you dare. I am going to break my way out of this cabin, and then I shall arrest both of you."
"Is there no way of compromising?" begged Dalny, his evil face paling, "In exchange for your life, Monsieur Darrin, can you not offer us a chance for escape?"
"One brave man down!" laughed Ensign Dave. "That was spoken like the coward that you are, Dalny."
Darrin turned to break down the door. He knew that he was taking chances, for the sham Prince might be a man cast in a braver mould than Dalny, and, in his desperation, might shoot at the back that Dave so recklessly presented.
At the third lunge from Darrin's sturdy shoulder, the door snapped open at the lock. The young naval officer stepped out into the social hall. There was no sign of the steward.
"Seaman here!" Dave bawled lustily. He was obliged to repeat the summons twice before a hearty "Aye, aye, sir!" was heard in the distance.
Then Jack Runkle showed his jovial face at the top of the companionway. Catching sight of his officer, Runkle bounded down the steps and came up on a run, saluting.
"Runkle, go to the corporal of marinesand ask him to send two men here. Then stand by."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Runkle was off like a shot on his errand and soon returned with two marines.
"Now, men," Dave directed, pointing to the doors, "batter them down. That door, first."
As the men aligned themselves for the assault, Darrin, mindful that the sham Prince was armed and might prove ugly, stood by with his revolver drawn.
Bang! crash! The door was down.
"It will be wise to surrender to superior force," Darrin called sternly. "We shall shoot to kill at any sign of resistance."
As the words were uttered in French the marines did not understand, but they advanced unhesitatingly on Mender, disarmed him and led him outside the room.
"Take care of him, Runkle," ordered Dave. "Now, marines, that other door!"
Down came the barrier, and Dalny, shaking and white, was brought out to keep Mender company.
"Break down every door that's locked," was Darrin's next order.
Within five minutes a little, quaking brown man was secured and led out. All the locked cabins had now been entered.
"You're the Japanese marquis, are you?" Dave jeered. "Do you find, Marquis, that it pays any better than being a Filipino mess attendant?"
The Filipino hung his head without answering.
"Take these prisoners to the corporal of marines, and ask him to iron them and watch them closely," Dave directed. "Runkle, do you know where Lieutenant Whyte is?"
"In the hold, sir, or was."
"Follow me, then, and we'll see if we can find him."
Down in the main cargo hold forward, Dave and Runkle came upon Whyte and a party of English and American sailormen.
"Ah, there you are, Mr. Darrin," called Whyte. "We've been making a jolly big search through the hold, but, except for ship's supplies, it appears to contain nothing very interesting. However, we shall have time to examine it further later on. And you?"
"I have three prisoners," Dave explained, and told who and what they were.
"Take them with you, Ensign, if you have room on your launch," Whyte directed. "I will now take my men above and post a guard, so that you may withdraw your own guard and get under way at once."
"We have done well so far," Dave answered,as he gripped the English officer's hand. "I pray that we may be permitted to do as well all through the night."
Runkle was sent through the craft to recall all of the American sailors.
When Dave reached the deck he found that the entire crew of the yacht, including the engine-room force and the stewards, had been rounded up and driven to the deck.
"Over the side," directed Darrin, as his men, recalled, gathered near him. He followed, but went over last of all. Orders for casting off and shoving clear were instantly given.
"Keep the engines up to their best performance all the way," was Dave's order. "Boatswain's mate, watch sharp for the courses, as I may change frequently."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Heading out of North Channel, Dave drove back for Valetta, keeping about a mile off the coast.
After making a few knots, he came abreast of another British launch that lay further to seaward. With lantern signals the Englishman asked:
"Is the submarine supposed to be loose?"
"Yes," Dave had his signalman reply.
"Where?"
"Don't know."
"I'm here to warn incoming ships against entering Grand Harbor to-night," the Englishman wound up. "Are you seeking the submarine?"
"Yes," Dave had flashed back.
"Good luck to you!" came heartily from the English launch.
"Thank you," was Darrin's final response.
The searchlight of Dave's launch was swinging busily from side to side, searching every bit of the water's surface that could be reached.
"If the submarine comes up, Runkle, you may be the first to sight her," Dave smiled to that seaman, who stood beside him.
"Aye, aye, sir; if I sight that craft I won't be mean enough to keep my news to myself."
"I wonder where Dalzell is," thought Dave. "What is he doing in this night's work?"
As for Ensign Dave, his every nerve was keyed to its highest pitch. Outwardly he was wholly calm, but he felt all the responsibility that rested upon him to-night, as did every other officer who commanded a launch from either fleet.
Searchlight and naked vision were not enough. Almost constantly Darrin had his night glass at his eyes.
Suddenly, as the light shifted over the water, Dave thought he caught sight of something unusual.
"Steady with that light there, signalman," hecommanded suddenly. "Back slowly to port with the beam."
Darrin forced himself to be calm.
"Steady," he called, again. "Hold the light on anything you see, signalman."
"Aye, aye, sir; Idosee something," replied the man who was manipulating the searchlight.
That he did see the mysterious something was proved by the manner in which he kept the light upon it.
That on which Darrin now trained his night glass was a marked rippling on the water, half a mile away, and farther seaward. A landsman would have missed it altogether. Yet that rippling on the sea's surface was clearly different from the motion of the water near by.
"It might be a school of large fish," Dave mused aloud, in Runkle's hearing, "though at night they are likely to rest. Runkle, and you, men, keep your eyes peeled to see if you can make out fish leaping out of the water."
The ripple continued, unbroken at any point. Moreover, it moved at uniform speed, and in a line nearly parallel with the coast.
Gradually the launch gained on that ripple. Dave could not turn his fascinated gaze away from the sight.
"I think I know what that is, sir," broke in Seaman Runkle, after three minutes of watching.
"I am sure that Ido, Runkle," Dave Darrin returned. "It's a submarine, for some reason just barely submerged. That line of ripple is the wake left by her periscope."
As if to confirm the young naval officer's words, the ripple parted. As the line on the water broke, the periscope came fully into view, and the turret showed above water, continuing to rise until the deck was awash.
"There's the pest of the seas!" cried an excited voice.
Every man on the launch was now straining his eyes for a better look at the submarine, barely a quarter of a mile away.
"Coxswain!" shouted Dave.
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Send up three blue rockets!"
"Aye, aye, sir."
One after another the rockets ascended, bursting high overhead and slowly falling.
From Grand Harbor, several miles distant, a rocket ascended and burst, showing red.
Darrin's signal had been seen and answered. Both fleets now knew that one of the launches had sighted the submarine craft. The three blue rockets had been the signal agreed upon in advance. Runkle was at the gun. Ensign Darrin gave him the range.
"I wish we had a four-inch gun in the bow," Dave muttered wistfully, "but we'll have to do the best we can with the one-pounder. Ready! Fire!"
Even before the command to fire had been uttered the craft ahead had begun to submerge.
As the brisk, snappy report of the little piece sounded, and a faint puff of smoke left her muzzle, Runkle's head bobbed up to watch the result of his shot.
"Forward of her turret by about a foot!" Runkle muttered in disgusted criticism of his own shooting.
A sailor had thrown the breech open, while a second swabbed the bore through and the first fitted in a fresh shell, closing the breech with a snap.
Runkle seemed to sight and fire almost in the same instant, and, as before, straightened up to watch the accuracy of his shot by the splash of water on the other side of the craft. The launch's searchlight held a steady glare on the mark.
"Nearer by a few inches, sir," Runkle called over his shoulder while the men with him swabbed and loaded. Again Runkle fired.
"The shell must have passed aft of the turret by about six inches," remarked Darrin, catching through his glass a glimpse of the splash of water where the little shell struck the waves.
"I'll do better, or drown myself, sir," growled Runkle.
"Quick! She is submerging rapidly," commanded Darrin.
Bang! An instant after the report a smothered exclamation came from the unhappy gunner. The submarine had safely submerged. Not even her periscope was above water now.
"If the turret had been four inches nearer the sky you'd have put it out of commission," declared Ensign Darrin.
"Rotten work," growled Runkle in disgust.
"It's night shooting, my man," Dave answered. "Good work just the same."
Runkle had an excellent gunnery record, and Darrin did not like to see that fine fellow fretting when he had done his best. None the less it was highly important to send that submarine to the bottom and quickly at that.
"We've got to go by bubbles, now," Darrin declared. "She isn't likely to show her eye again."
Had he gotten the launch close enough to observe the bubbles it is possible that the young ensign could have followed the enemy trail. Twice or thrice Dave believed that he had picked up glimpses of bubbles with the searchlight, but at last, with a sigh, he gave orders to shut off speed and drift. Inaction became wellnigh insupportable after a few moments and Darrin called for slow speed ahead.
"There she is again" he cried. "There's her periscope. The scoundrel is standing out to sea."
Over the starboard quarter the searchlight signals of two other launches were observed.
"What's taking place?" came the signaled question from one.
"Fired a few shots at a vanishing turret, but missed," Dave ordered signaled back. "Enemy standing out to sea. Am following."
"Will follow also," flashed back the answer.
"And one of their gunners will bag the game at the first chance," groaned Runkle. "The jinx is sitting tight on my chest to-night!"
"It might be, if there were any such animal as a jinx," laughed Darrin. "Your missing was just plain bad luck, Runkle. Your shooting was good."
"The periscope is being pulled inboard, sir," called one of the seamen who stood by with Runkle.
"I see it. There she goes, under again," Dave answered.
The Navy launch was dashing full speed ahead. But with no clue to follow, Darrin passed some anxious seconds. Should he follow on the course he had been taking, or should he shut off speed? In the dark there was a good chance that the submarine commander, if so minded, would be able to double and head back for shore.
Land lights were still visible from his position. Dave turned to estimate their distance.
"About six knots off shore," he concluded, half aloud.
"Sir?" questioned the corporal of marines, thinking the ensign was addressing him.
"I was just telling myself that we're about six knots off shore."
"Yes, sir," replied the corporal, saluting.
"Listen to me, you men who are near enough to hear. Your understanding of what is in my mind may help you the better to work with me on this job. Two launches are keeping with us, over the starboard, and I judge the nearer one to be about four knots off. Coxswain, use the lantern signal and ask who commands."
Soon Hardy discovered that, in order to make his signal visible at that distance, he would have to stand higher. Springing to the forward deck his signal was instantly understood on the other craft.
Dave, who had jumped up beside him, read the answer:
"Ensign Dalzell."
"I was sure of it," Dave smiled. "Coxswain, order number 2 launch to come up on parallel course, standing off half-mile to starboard of us."
"Order understood," was flashed back from Dalzell's launch.
Bit by bit Dan overhauled, at last taking the position indicated. Darrin's launch was moving at slow speed now, for he did not care to run out of sight of land, thus leaving the way clear for the submarine to double on him and put back toward Grand Harbor.
"Why doesn't the fellow take a chance on torpedoing us?" was signaled from Dalzell's launch.
"He has only three," was Darrin's reply.
That was brief, but Danny Grin understood, as Dave had intended he should, that the submarine was believed to be equipped with only three torpedoes. Evidently the enemy still hoped for a chance to sink a British battleship.
Suddenly he discovered that for which he sought, and in the same instant a seaman called, as the rays of the searchlight shifted:
"Periscope two points off the port bow, sir."
"Right!" clicked Ensign Darrin.
"May I fire, sir?" begged Runkle, bending over his piece.
"Yes, try it. Pretty long shot, though."
Before Runkle could aim and discharge his piece a swift, red flash shot from the bow of the number 2 launch commanded by Danny Grin. Runkle fired a second later, but the periscope still stood as if mocking the eager gunners.
"I'm glad somebody else missed," growled Runkle, who was becoming exasperated. He was doing himself injustice, though, for each time he had fired, his mark, considering the distance, had been small, and the searchlight was no peer of daylight in aiding a gunner.
Ensign Darrin admitted to himself that he was stumped. He ordered the course changed, with speed ahead, his purpose being to scan the water for the bubbled trail left by the underseas craft. But by the time that he judged himself to be going over the recently observed position of the submersible the searchlight revealed no bubbles.
The third launch now coming in close, Dave, by signal, ordered Ensign Sutton of the British forces to go slowly inshore. He too was to watch for bubbles, as well as to be alert for a re-appearance of the enemy craft.
The longer the suspense lasted, the more uneasy Darrin became.
"There she is, sir!" called a low but penetratingvoice from the stern watch. "Three points off the stern to port, sir."
So quickly did the helmsman bring the launch about that she heeled and shipped a volume of water. Darrin, as he leaped upon the forward deck, ordered the sailor manning the searchlight to shut off.
"Don't turn it on again without orders. I believe I can follow the pest with my glass if she will only keep her conning tower above water. Signalman, send my order to the other launches not to use their searchlights without first asking permission."
By this time Darrin, standing on the forward deck, had the submarine's turret, or as much of it as showed, in the field of his night-glass.
Not more than a foot of it showed above water, and, even through the glass, at a distance of nearly half a mile, it would hardly have been discernible without the aid of the searchlight, had it not been for the white wake left by the turret in its course through the water.
"May I try a shot now, sir?" begged Runkle, "I'm certain I can hit the turret this time."
"If you could do it surely, you'd be the best shot in the Navy," smiled Darrin. "I'm not going to use the searchlight unless I have to, and it would be almost impossible to make a hit in the dark without it. The pest is headedshoreward, and I want to creep up close from the rear, if possible."
Dissatisfied, Runkle none the less saluted and turned back to his gun.
"Keep a close sight on the sneak," Dave called after him. "When you hear me call 'Ready!' you will complete your aim and fire without further orders."
An order transmitted to the man standing by the engine sent the launch plunging ahead at increased speed.
Of a sudden the pursuit assumed a new aspect. The submarine suddenly veered around to port, and then headed straight toward the launch.
"Now's our chance!" glowed a seaman, excitedly.
"Yes," retorted another strained voice. "Our chance for death!"
The same thought came into the minds of many on the launch. The submarine, it seemed, was about to discharge a torpedo at the pursuer.
"Starboard!" commanded Darrin. "Keep her bow to port of us!"
Seaman Jack Runkle strained his ears for the solitary word from Ensign Darrin that would be so welcome.
"Will he ever give that order?" fumed the impatient sailor at the breech of the one-pounder.