"Yo' Yankees air free-handed already," she drawled. "But that won't save you, Mr. Officer, from the trouble that's heaped up for you-uns."
"What is the nature of this trouble?" asked the ensign curiously.
"Death an' destruction," said the old woman. "Death and destruction. Yo' fine big ship, theKennebunkship, will be blowed sky-high. It's a comin'! Mark Old Mag's prophecy, Mr. Officer."
"We shall all have to go on and do our duty just the same, Mag," said Mr. MacMasters, seriously. "And if a sailor does his duty, he's done his all. The rest is in God's hands."
"Don't blaspheme, Mr. Yankee!" warned the old woman. "The Lawd ain't studyin' 'bout he'pin' you-uns none. He's on the other side already."
The boat from the cutter had to return a second time before all the castaways were transferred to the revenue vessel. Whistler went in the last boat with Ensign MacMasters.
When they were on the cutter's deck the young fellow heard Mr. MacMasters ask at once about the character of the old woman, and of any other people who might belong on the island.
"They're under suspicion," the commander of the cutter said briefly. "The Department has its eye on them. On that old woman, too."
Mr. MacMasters asked if anything was known about the small cabin back in the forest. The revenue officer listened eagerly.
"Ah-ha! That is something of moment, Ensign. I shall surely be glad to hear all about that. But we must be brisk. Do you know that your Captain Trevor is combing the sea and the coast with wireless messages for you?"
"He must have heard that we lost our steamer."
"That was relayed last night to theKennebunk, I believe. The Huns are sowing many mines in these waters. There is a flock of U-boat chasers and destroyers out after the German submarines.
"But there is something else of moment in the wind," added the revenue officer. "TheKennebunk," he added, mysteriously, "will not be long in these waters."
"No?"
"It is expected that there will be a great naval movement on the other side. The report of theKennebunk'smanoeuvres, and her gun record, is said to be so good that she may be sent across."
Whistler, standing by, could scarcely suppress a cry of delight.
"What do you think of that, Morgan?" the ensign cried. Then to the revenue officer: "After this cruise, I suppose you mean, sir?"
"She may be sent on the jump—and within a few hours. I have orders to take you to sea at once and find theKennebunk. Our operator is sending out feeler messages for the battleship right now."
"Then you will do nothing toward looking into this nest of trouble-makers on the island—if there is such—immediately?"
"Not until we return."
"And then," said Mr. MacMasters seriously, "if you do stir up these snakes, look for a fellow named Franz Linder. He is wanted in Elmvale, up there in New England, for blowing up a dam, destroying munition factories and drowning twelve innocent people. We'll be glad, Morgan here, and I, to hear about the capture of that scoundrel."
The revenue cutter was a speedy craft, and by midforenoon she was far outside the string of islands near which the crew of theKennebunk'ssteamer under Ensign MacMasters had experienced so many adventures.
The wireless operator picked up the superdreadnaught at last. She was two hundred miles away, and when she gave her course to the cutter the boys noticed that it occasioned a deal of excitement upon the quarterdeck.
Unless the message is spread on the notice-board by the door of the wireless room, the members of the crew of any vessel are not likely to know what is going on in the air. The operator, like the usual telegraph operator, is bound to secrecy.
"There's something up besides the blue peter, just as sure as you're a foot high, Whistler," Al Torrance declared eagerly. "I'd give a punched nickel to know just what it is."
Having nothing to occupy their time on the cutter, the four Navy boys naturally gave theirattention to rumor and gossip. They believed theKennebunkwas no longer headed up the coast; but where she was going was a question.
"Crickey!" groaned Al, "if she gets into any muss without our being aboard, I'll be a sore one."
"They wouldn't be so mean," wailed Ikey, "as to have a fight without us being in it. Oi, oi! Oi, oi!"
"Nothing but subs to fight over here, kid, if any," the older boy said. "Stop your keening."
"Say, how do we know where the big fight will be pulled off?" demandedFrenchyexcitedly.
"What big fight?" queried Whistler, unpuckering his lips.
"The one they've been talking about for months. You know, everybody's said the Huns would come out some time. They're bound to give us a chance at their Navy."
"Aw, they won't! Will they, Whistler?" asked Ikey.
"I don't really believe so myself," Torry said, shaking his head. "No such luck."
"I believe theKennebunkhas got new orders," Whistler rejoined thoughtfully. "Whether or not they are for her to sail for the other side, I don't know. I heard a hint about it when we came aboard the cutter."
"Crickey! Let 'em hit it up, then," urgedTorry. "If this little old tub doesn't go fast enough I'll jump overboard and swim!"
"Oi, oi! Not me!" objected Ikey Rosenmeyer. "I've soaked in enough salt water. I don't feel as though I should really need a bath again before I get to be twenty-one yet."
"Tough on your messmates, Ikey," observed Whistler. "Do think better of such a rash decision."
The four boys from Seacove were not alone in being anxious regarding theKennebunkand their chance of overtaking her. Every man of the crew of the wrecked auxiliary steamer desired to get aboard the superdreadnaught if there was to be any fresh excitement.
Whistler's chums urged him to waylay Ensign MacMasters for information.
"G'wan, Whistler!" begged Frenchy. "You and him's just like brothers. Ask him if the oldKennebunkis running away from us, or if it's all bunk?" and he grinned at his pun.
"Of course she's not running away," Whistler returned.
"Just the same this cutter is sprinting like all get out," put in Torry. "Be a good fellow, Whistler. Ask Mr. MacMasters what it means."
His chum did not feel that he could do this. There is, after all, a gulf between the quarterdeck and the forecastle. But Whistler put himself in the ensign's way and, saluting smartly, asked a question:
"Beg pardon, sir! Did you find anybody aboard who could translate that torn letter I picked up in the old witch's cabin?"
"That letter addressed to Franz Linder? No, Morgan; there is nobody aboard the cutter who is familiar with German. But the moment we reach theKennebunkI will put it into Captain Trevor's hands—never fear."
"Shall we really catch the battleship, sir?" asked Whistler eagerly.
"We've got to, Morgan;" declared Mr. MacMasters. "As you boys say, 'there is something doing' and we must be in it."
"But the battleship has changed her course, has she not, sir?"
"She has received new orders; but we will meet her on this course, I have no doubt. Cheer up, my boy," and the ensign laughed. "You may yet help work the big guns in a real battle."
So it was actually a race. The cutter must reach a certain point in the open ocean to meet the superdreadnaught; if they missed her, in all probability the party from theKennebunkwould have to be returned to port and be assigned to some other duty for the time being.
"Oi, oi!" groaned Ikey when he heard Whistler's report. "I never did have any luck. Ifthey had delicatessen shops on board ships, I'd be made to police the pickle barrels yet."
The day did not pass without some additional excitement. The cutter passed and signaled several Government vessels; but toward evening the lookout picked up the smoke of a small destroyer ahead which, within the next half hour, acted very strangely, indeed.
She seemed to be steaming in circles, and as the cutter raced nearer those circles narrowed. Then her guns began to pop.
The cutter's crew and their guests became much excited. Surely the gun crews of the destroyer were not at target practice. Yet they seemed to have found a target in the middle of that circle the destroyer was furrowing through the sea.
At last they saw an answering shot fired from the midst of the circle. The destroyer was traveling at top speed and her own guns continued to keep up a wicked cannonading of the central object.
"A Hun submarine!" shouted somebody. "They're circling it, and they are going to get it, too!"
"If it is a submarine why doesn't she sink?" demanded Torry the sceptical.
"I see why," Whistler said. "If the U-boatgoes down the destroyer will dart in and drag depth bombs. Then—good-night!"
"Wow, wow!" cried Frenchy. "She's so fast she can cut circles around the U-boat, eh?"
"Sure as you live!" said Torry. "My! that's a pretty fight. If that destroyer was the oldColodia, and we were only aboard of her! What fun!"
The destroyer was narrowing her circles; the U-boat was in a pocket, and unless the Hun put a lucky shell into the destroyer's engines, she seemed doomed to capture or destruction.
The cutter raced nearer. Her course would take her directly into the circle of battle unless her helm was changed.
It was like bombarding a whale with bomb lances. One after another the shells from the destroyer's guns shrieked over the sea to fall around the more sluggishly manoeuvring U-boat.
The captain of the submarine handled his craft with skill; but his gunners were poor marksmen. They kept both the U-boat's deckguns smoking; but the shots went wild.
Torpedoes could not be used against the destroyer, for the latter was steaming too swiftly. Around and around she went, and each time she finished a lap the circle had narrowed.
The spectators on the revenue cutter were highly interested. They climbed upon the upperworks and cheered and yelled in their excitement. At last a shell from the destroyer dropped fairly upon the deck of the U-boat, just abaft the conning tower.
The submarine rocked, dipped, and seemed about to sink. The helm of the destroyer was changed instantly and she shot straight for her quarry.
"She'll sink her! She's going down!" yelled Al Torrance, clinging to a stay beside Whistler, as the cutter bobbed through the rather choppy seas.
But the Germans had no desire for a glorious death. Up went the white flag, and the men on her deck put up their hands, signifying that they had surrendered. Probably they were already crying "Kamerad!"
The destroyer did not even drop a boat to send aboard a crew. She steamed right up beside the submarine, put out a ladder for her captain, and then sent a hawser aboard for the German crew to fasten. She would tow her prize to port without risking any of her own crew aboard the wabbly undersea boat.
When the cutter drew near, her ship's company cheered and jeered the bluejackets on the destroyer with good-natured enthusiasm. The destroyer was then steaming away with the U-boat in tow.
"Something's fouled your patent log!" yelled one seaman aboard the cutter.
"Hey, there, garby!" shouted another. "What's that the cat brought in?"
The crew of the destroyer, evidently mightily swelled with pride, refused to reply to these scoffing remarks.
As long as the twilight held the cutter steamedinto the east and south. By dark the destroyer and her tow were out of sight. The cutter began to burn occasional lights. Then the wireless chattered again.
"Hurrah, boys!" whispered Whistler to his three mates. "I believe theKennebunkis near."
Nor was he mistaken in this supposition. The night was dark, the stars were overcast, merely a fitful light played upon the surface of the sea.
The horizon ahead was quite indistinguishable from the water itself. But at last a faint glowing point appeared upon it. Ensign MacMasters and the commander of the cutter showed excitement as they watched this spot through their night glasses.
"Is it a star?" asked Frenchy.
"A star your grandmother!" snorted Torry. "That's a ship."
"A big steamship under forced draft," added Whistler. "And I believe it is theKennebunk."
It was the glow above her smokestacks that they saw. Within half an hour the fact that a huge steam craft was storming across the cutter's course could not be doubted.
Mr. MacMasters gave some sharp orders to his men. The latter had nothing with them but the water-shrunk garments they stood in; so it took but a moment for Mr. Mudge to line them up properly along the rail.
The great battleship began to slow down when the cutter was at least three miles from her. Otherwise she would have passed, and the revenue craft would have been a long time catching up.
The cutter was run in to the side of the towering hull of the superdreadnaught. The port ladder was down. A number of the watch on deck were strung along the rail, and the officers did not forbid their cheering the members of the wrecked tender's crew.
"Welcome home again, Mr. MacMasters!" was the greeting of the officer of the watch as the ensign led his party up the ladder.
"And mighty glad we are to get here," declared Ensign MacMasters.
The boys and men scrambled aboard and bade good-bye cheerfully though gratefully to the cutter's crew. The latter craft turned on her heel and shot away toward the distant coast.
Already the huge battleship was under way again. She was running with few lights. And where she was running was a question that even the members of the crew the boys put the question to could not answer.
It was generally known that Captain Trevor had received orders by wireless that had changed the plan of the cruise entirely. Instead of running back up the Atlantic coast, they had put to sea.
It was the next day before theKennebunk'scompany in general knew that she was bound first for the Azores. That meant a European cruise, without a doubt. All the "old timers" were agreed upon that.
It was finally rumored about the ship that the report of theKennebunk'scruise to the southward, and the score of her gun crews at target practice, together with her good luck in sinking a German submarine with the first shot ever fired from her guns, had so impressed the Department that she was to join the European squadron under Admiral Sims at once.
"There's a chance for you boys to see some real action," declared one of the masters-at-arms. "If the Hun comes out of Kiel, we'll be there to say 'How-do!' to him."
The boys who had been absent from the battleship for so long found, however, that the spiritual atmosphere of the crew was not much changed. There were still a lot of "croakers" as Torry called them.
"They are ghost-ridden, as sure as you're born, Whistler," Torry declared. "Somebody has heard that clock ticking again. It doesn't seem to be at work all the time. Just now and then. 'The death watch' they call it."
"Stop it!" ordered Whistler. "The less said the soonest mended about such things aboard ship. We boys don't believe such foolishness, do we?"
"How about the old witch's prophecy?" asked Torry wickedly. "Suppose we should tell these garbies about them?"
"Don't you dare!" cried Whistler.
That very morning, after sick call, he was ordered to appear before Captain Trevor in the commander's office, and there found assembled Ensign MacMasters and several of the other officers of the ship with the commander.
"Morgan," said Captain Trevor, "let me hear about your finding of this paper Mr. MacMasters has brought to our attention. There seems to be something of moment in it in reference to theKennebunk."
Ensign MacMasters put a translation of the torn letter into the young fellow's hand. The letter had been so mutilated that it was impossible; to make any exact translation of it. But here were extracts that stood out plainly:
". . . success of your water-wheel bomb. Congratulations.". . . from Headquarters an order to. . .". . . If it equals your former . . .". . . clockwork arrangement that may raiseyour name as an inventor to the nth power. The Ken—— . . .". . . shall hear of her destruction at the time appointed.". . . for the German Fatherland."
". . . success of your water-wheel bomb. Congratulations.
". . . from Headquarters an order to. . .
". . . If it equals your former . . .
". . . clockwork arrangement that may raiseyour name as an inventor to the nth power. The Ken—— . . .
". . . shall hear of her destruction at the time appointed.
". . . for the German Fatherland."
"I am told that you, Morgan, have some knowledge of the dastardly work of this spy, Franz Linder. Is it so?" asked Captain Trevor suggestively.
"Oh, sir!" cried the young fellow, in excitement, "I believe I know what is referred to here by Linder's correspondent, as 'the water-wheel bomb.' That is what he blew up the Elmvale dam with!"
"Do you think, from what the woman on the island said, that there is some plot afoot against theKennebunk?" went on the commander.
"It's referred to right here!" declared the excited Whistler. "This 'clockwork' thing. Oh, Mr. MacMasters!" he added, turning abruptly to the ensign. "You know some of the crew, before we left to carry poor Grant to the hospital, were bothering about a sound they had heard on the lower deck? Remember Seven Knott's ghost?"
"Right!" declared the ensign. "I had forgotten it, Captain Trevor," he added. "Something about a clock ticking."
"I have heard it myself," Whistler said eagerly. "And the boys say they have been hearing it, off and on, while we were gone."
"Do you two mean to intimate that there is a time bomb, or some such infernal machine, aboard this ship?" demanded Captain Trevor, in contemptuous amazement.
"Look at this, sir," urged Whistler so earnestly that he forgot his station. "'. . . clockwork arrangement that may raise your name as an inventor to the nth power.' That certainly means something. And that noise below does sound something like a clock."
"It seems ridiculous," stated the commander of theKennebunk. "And yet we must not refuse to believe that the secret agents of Germany are at work in the most impossible places. If they could sink this great, new vessel in mid-ocean! Mr. Smith," to his first lieutenant, "have that part of the ship searched. Find out what causes the sound which has been heard before you make your report. We'll investigate this matter to the very bottom."
The superdreadnaught was so huge a ship, and the divisions of the crew were so busily engaged in drills and other work, that few, indeed, knew that the "ghost of theKennebunk" was being investigated by the officers.
The ship was storming along her course through the sea at a pace which fairly made her structure shake. Had one been able to be out upon the sea on another ship and watch her pass, her speed would have been impressive, indeed.
Routine work went on, and the bulk of the ship's company knew nothing about that little party of searchers at work deep down in the ship. Whistler was one of those assigned to find the cause of the "tick-tock" noise, and it was he who finally suggested the spot where the mechanism which caused the sound might be found.
The party had searched the lumber room and the compartments on both sides, that above, and the one directly beneath the room in question. Nothing was discovered save that the soundseemed clearer in the lumber room than elsewhere.
Overhauling the stuff stowed there did no good. They seemed no nearer to the sound. And as the latter was not continuous it was the more puzzling.
"Don't you think we ought to open that chest, sir?" asked Whistler of the warrant officer who had immediate charge of the work.
"It doesn't seem to come from that box," objected the man.
"It doesn't seem to come from anywhere exactly," Whistler said. "It is sort of ventriloquial. One time it seems to be from one direction, then from another. But that chest hasn't been open——"
"Whose is it?"
"I don't know, sir."
"Who does know?" the warrant officer asked.
But nobody seemed able to answer that query. The searchers gathered about the chest that had been pulled out of the heap of rubbish. It was ironbound and made of heavy planking.
"It gets me!" murmured the officer.
Just then the sound started again: "Tick-tock!Tick-tock!Tick-tock!"
"It don't come from that box!" declared one man.
Whistler stooped and put his hand on thecover. "Wait!" he said suddenly. "Just feel this, sir."
"What do you feel?"
"There is vibration here. And it isn't the vibration of the ship's engines, either."
The warrant officer rested his hand upon the chest. He looked more puzzled than ever.
"Get something and break the lock!" he commanded.
"Wait a minute, sir!" cried Whistler. "If there should be some infernal machine in that box we must take care in opening it. Maybe the carpenter can pick the lock."
"Good idea," agreed the officer.
The carpenter's mate was sent for. He came with a bunch of spare keys and a pick-lock. The latter had to be used skilfully before the lock of the chest was sprung.
Then the warrant officer suddenly experienced an accession of caution. He refused to have the cover of the chest lifted until the chest itself was carried carefully out upon the open deck.
No sound came from the chest now, if that had been the locality of the tick-tock noise. The vibration could be felt just the same.
The men were ordered to stand back and the warrant officer courageously lifted the lid of the chest. Nothing happened.
There was an empty tray in the top of theodd chest. That, too, was cautiously lifted out.
There came suddenly a faint buzzing from the interior that startled everybody near. Then followed the ticking sound, which lasted at least a full minute.
The warrant officer jerked away a layer of pasteboard that hid what was under the tray. Several grim cylinders lay side by side in the chest's bottom. They were connected by wires with a mechanism that hummed like the purring of a well-piled motor.
"Clockwork!" exclaimed the carpenter's mate, bending over the chest. "That's what she is. Ah! It reverses itself. See that spring—winding tighter and tighter? Why, it's almost perpetual motion! Some inventor that fellow!"
"What fellow?" growled the warrant officer.
"Whoever built this."
"Can you stop it without exploding those cylinders?"
"Great Scott! Do you s'pose that's dynamite under there?"
"Or T N T."
The petty officer thrust an iron bar suddenly into the heart of the complicated machine. Something snapped. The mechanism stopped.
"Great heavens, man!" gasped the warrant officer, "suppose you had set it off?"
"No. Couldn't be done till the spring herewas wound up to the top-notch. This machine was arranged to run for weeks. Some ingenious arrangement, take it from me!"
The discovery and destruction of the infernal machine, and a big one at that, relieved the tension of feeling aboard the warship. As Frenchy Donahue remarked:
"It's bad enough to have a bansheetick-tockingaround the place; but that tidy little bunch of cylinders would have made a lot more noise if they had been exploded."
But the matter was serious. The captain took the opportunity to lecture the entire ship's company regarding foolish rumors and gossip.
"If there is anything strange comes under your notice, report it properly," he said. "Don't camouflage it with a lot of superstitious nonsense so that the officer you report to must disbelieve the yarn. There never was a strange occurrence yet that could not be explained."
"How does he explain Jonah being swallowed by the whale?" whispered Frenchy.
"He doesn't have to explain it," retorted Torry. "If you don't believe a whale can swallow a man, jump down the throat of the next one you see."
As a whole, the crew of theKennebunkwere not inclined to consider the incident of the infernal machine carelessly. A serious impression was made upon them all.
But the mysterious prospect of what was ahead of them shortly smothered the matter of the peril escaped. There might be greater perils ahead.
The superdreadnaught halted but for an hour at a port of the Azores. This was to send mail ashore. Then she picked up speed again and traveled north.
She passed convoys of merchant vessels guarded by French, British and American destroyers. TheKennebunkexchanged signals with several cruisers of the United States Navy as well.
Drill at the guns went on daily. Once they spied and shelled a German submarine, but she escaped. This incident greatly enraged the crew of the gun that missed her. It was not the gun to the crew of which Whistler and Torry belonged.
"Can't expect to get the Hun every time," was the soothing remark of one of the division captains.
"Why not?" asked somebody else. "That's what we are here for, isn't it? I don't believe Uncle Sam wants excuses."
The standard the men set themselves in our Navy is higher than their officers require.
The boys from Seacove, as well as HansHertig and Mr. MacMasters, kept a sharp lookout for their belovedColodia. But they were fated not to meet the destroyer until the great event which had brought the superdreadnaught into European waters.
TheKennebunksteamed into a certain roadstead one evening where lay more huge battleships, cruisers and smaller armored vessels than Whistler and his mates had ever seen before. They flew the flags of three nations, and they were prepared to moveen masseupon the enemy at the briefest notice.
The methods of strategy by which the German Navy, or a large part of it, was tolled out of its impregnable hiding place the Navy boys did not learn till long afterwards. But Phil, at least, half realized that the German High Command believed that the way to shelling the British coast by her great naval guns was at last opened.
The Allied fleet moved on a certain day and at a certain hour, and with the open sea as its destination. It was a calm and utterly peaceful sea through which theKennebunksailed with her sister ships.
The high bow of the superdreadnaught crashed through the seething waters. Her lookouts traced the course of each tiny blot upon the distant sea-line.
Suddenly, out of the north, appeared a scout cruiser, her funnels vomiting volumes of dense smoke that flattened down oilily upon the sea in her wake. Her stern guns spat viciously at some craft of low visibility which followed her.
Immediately everybody aboard theKennebunkforgot the other ships of the squadron. The enemy was in sight, and the work would be cut out for every man aboard the superdreadnaught.
The cruiser came leaping toward the fleet, her signal flags fluttering messages. A gun boomed on the flagship. Bugles shrilled from every deck of theKennebunk.
Messages were wigwagged from ship to ship. But aboard theKennebunkthere was just one order that interested every one.
"Clear decks for action!"
The divisions responded to the notes of the bugle with a snappiness that delighted the officers on the bridge. As they had gone through the manoeuvres a thousand times in practice, so now they faced the enemy with the same precision.
Ventilators, life-lines, parts of the superstructure and deck woodwork came down and were stowed in their proper place. Boats dropped from their davits, were hurriedly lashed together, their plugs pulled, and left to sink, riding attached to sea anchors formed of their own spars and oars. "Cleared for action!" when reported to the commander meant exactly that! Not a superfluous object in the way of the activities of a fighting crew.
"Battle stations!"
The four friends from Seacove knew exactlywhere they were to be all through the battle—if they lived. Whistler knew that he was to stand in the corridor of the handling-room for Turret Number Two, until he was called to relieve some wounded or exhausted member of his gun crew. His immediate order was to "stand by."
Every other individual aboard theKennebunkhad his station, from the firemen shoveling tons of coal into the fiery maws of the furnaces to keep the indicator needles of the steam-gages at a certain figure, to the range-finders high up in the fighting-tops, bending over their apparatus.
In the turrets the officers fitted telephone receivers to their heads. The gunners, literally "stripped for action" to their waists, their glistening, supple bodies as alert as panthers, crouched over the enormous guns.
Up from the sea appeared the great fighting machines of the enemy. They could not run away this time. Inveigled into range of the Allied ships, the Hun must fight at last!
A word spoken into a telephone from the conning tower to one of the fighting tops! Then, an instant later, to Turret Number One! A roar that shook the ship and seemed to shake the very heavens, while the flash of the fourteen-inch rifle blinded for a second the spectators!
A cheer rose from all parts of the ship, evenbefore the tops signaled a hit. After that the men fought the ship in silence.
Alone in the corridor, Whistler Morgan felt that it would be easier to be on active duty in this time of stress. Yet he had been taught that his station was quite as important as that of any other man or boy aboard.
Through the half open door of the handling room he heard other men loading powder bags and shells upon the electric ammunition hoist that led to the turret above.
Suddenly the whole ship staggered. A deafening explosion, different from that of the guns, shocked him. An enemy shell had burst aboard theKennebunk!
"Relief!"
Whistler sprang through the corridor and up to the gun deck. Was the call for him?
He stopped to look at a perspiring gun crew. They worked the gun with the precision of automatons. Wherever the shell had burst it had not interfered with the firing of the huge guns of Number Two Turret.
Another enemy shell burst inboard of theKennebunk. There was a hail of bits of steel and flying wreckage. Whistler stood squarely on his feet and began to breathe again.
If he was afraid he did not know it!
One of his mates fell back from position. Itwas not Torry, as Whistler immediately saw. The man's shoulder dripped blood from a raking wound. Had it been Torry, Phil knew he would still have stepped forward, just as he was doing, and have calmly taken the place of the wounded man.
"Keep it up, boys!" grinned the wounded one. "I'll be back soon's the doc gives this the once over."
The work went on. Shell, powder, breech! Ready all! A moment while the captain's finger trembled on the trigger button. Then the hiss of air as the breech swung open, yawning for another charge.
The thousand-pound shell, hurtling through the smoke-filled air, found the vitals of theKennebunk'simmediate enemy. It scarcely shocked Whistler when he peered out to see that vast mountain of steel burst open amidships. She sank in seconds, and theKennebunksteamed on to attack a second monster of the deep.
The battle continued. Moments seemed longer than minutes; minutes dragged by like hours. The wonder of it all was that so much damage could be done in so short a time.
Ships that had cost months of labor to build settled and disappeared beneath the surface in a few minutes. And their crews? Best not talk about them.
History will relate in detail and with exactness, the story of this fight. The superdreadnaught, so shortly off the ways, endured her baptism of fire, coming through the battle scarred but victorious. Alone she sank two of the enemy.
Her own casualty list was small. But it was some hours after the battle before Philip Morgan made sure that his three friends were safe. Repairs and other necessary work took up the attention of the crew until long past nightfall, although the battle itself had lasted just under two hours.
Then Phil found Al first, for they had fought in the same turret. They went to look for the younger boys, and came across an agile little chap with his head done up in bandages, working with a deck-washing crew aft of Turret Number Three, which had been wrecked by a Hun shell.
"It's Ikey!" shouted Torry. "What's the matter with your head, Ikey?"
"Don't say a word," said Ikey, shaking his bandaged head. "The doc used all the gauze he had left aboard after binding those up that was really hurt."
"But you've got some kind of a wound, haven't you?" demanded Whistler.
"Oi, oi! I ought to have, eh? But it's only that boil I had coming on the back of my neck.You remember? Somehow the head got knocked off of it and it was bleeding. So the doc grabbed me and bandaged me like this," he added in a much disgusted tone.
It was Michael Donahue who proudly showed himself later with his arm in a sling. He had actually got a piece of shell through the flesh below his elbow. The others were inclined to scorn his wound as they did Ikey's boil.
"That'll do for you fellers," said Frenchy proudly. "By St. Patrick's piper that played the last snake out of Ireland! I've shed me blood for Uncle Sam! That is something you garbies haven't done. And, oh, goodness! Ain't I hungry—just!"
Because of the repairs necessary to theKennebunkshe was ordered home; but to the delight of the four Navy boys they, with Hertig and Mr. MacMasters, were not to go with her.
TheColodiawas now one of the destroyer fleet chasing German submarines in the Bay of Biscay. They were ordered to meet the destroyer at a certain English port and would rejoin their old comrades and continue their training under Lieutenant Commander Lang.
Much as they disliked leaving their comrades on the superdreadnaught, active service, and of a new kind, was ahead of them, as will be relatedin the next volume of this "Navy Boys Series."
"We can't kick," declared Torry. "We got into the Navy to work, not to loaf. We've seen a good deal of service, and of several different kinds. But there is always something new to learn."
"Sure!" agreed Ikey. "I've wrote my papa and mama that although I ain't an admiral yet, I'll be something or other before I get home."
"True for you!" exclaimed Frenchy. "But just what you'll be is hard telling, Ikey. Even that old witch of the island couldn't foretell your finish, I bet."
"That reminds me," said Whistler. "Mr. MacMasters told me he read in an American paper that he just got hold of that they have arrested Franz Linder, the spy. He will be tried for blowing up the Elmvale dam. And I guess we had something to do to getting evidence that will convict him. The ensign says we will have to give our testimony about the infernal machine before Captain Trevor before the superdreadnaught leaves this port for home."
"Say!" said Torry with energy, "hasn't this been a great old cruise?"
And his three mates emphatically agreed.
The Young ReporterSeriesBy HOWARD R. GARIS12mo. cloth, illustrated and with full colored jacketFascinating stories of great mysteries and extreme perils—the life of a daring young reporter for a metropolitan daily, written by one who was himself a reporter for sixteen years.THE YOUNG REPORTER AT THE BIG FLOODOr the Perils of News GatheringTHE YOUNG REPORTER AND THE LAND SWINDLERSOr The Queer Adventures in a Great CityTHE YOUNG REPORTER AND THE MISSING MILLIONAIREOr A Strange DisappearanceTHE YOUNG REPORTER AND THE BANK MYSTERYOr Stirring Doings in Wall StreetTHE YOUNG REPORTER AND THE STOLEN BOYOr A Chase on the Great LakesTHE YOUNG REPORTER AT THE BATTLE FRONTOr a War Correspondent's Double MissionGEORGE SULLY & COMPANYPublishers New York
12mo. cloth, illustrated and with full colored jacket
Fascinating stories of great mysteries and extreme perils—the life of a daring young reporter for a metropolitan daily, written by one who was himself a reporter for sixteen years.
THE YOUNG REPORTER AT THE BIG FLOODOr the Perils of News GatheringTHE YOUNG REPORTER AND THE LAND SWINDLERSOr The Queer Adventures in a Great CityTHE YOUNG REPORTER AND THE MISSING MILLIONAIREOr A Strange DisappearanceTHE YOUNG REPORTER AND THE BANK MYSTERYOr Stirring Doings in Wall StreetTHE YOUNG REPORTER AND THE STOLEN BOYOr A Chase on the Great LakesTHE YOUNG REPORTER AT THE BATTLE FRONTOr a War Correspondent's Double Mission
GEORGE SULLY & COMPANYPublishers New York
Joe Strong Series12mo. cloth, colored jacket and illustratedVance Barnum is a real treasure when it comes to telling about how magicians do their weird tricks, how the circus acrobats pull off their various stunts, how the "fishman" remains under water so long, how the mid-air performers loop the loop and how the slackwire fellow keeps from tumbling. He has been through it all and he writes freely for the boys from his vast experience. They are real stories bound to hold their audiences breathlessly.JOE STRONG, THE BOY WIZARDOr Mysteries of Magic ExposedJOE STRONG ON THE TRAPEZEOr The Daring Feats of a Young Circus PerformerJOE STRONG, THE BOY FISHOr Marvellous Doings in a Big TankJOE STRONG ON THE HIGH WIREOr A Motorcycle of the AirJOE STRONG AND HIS WINGS OF STEELOr A Young Acrobat in the CloudsJOE STRONG AND HIS BOX OF MYSTERYOr The Ten Thousand Dollar Prize TrickJOE STRONG, THE BOY FIRE-EATEROr The Most Dangerous Performance on RecordGEORGE SULLY & COMPANYPublishers New York
12mo. cloth, colored jacket and illustrated
Vance Barnum is a real treasure when it comes to telling about how magicians do their weird tricks, how the circus acrobats pull off their various stunts, how the "fishman" remains under water so long, how the mid-air performers loop the loop and how the slackwire fellow keeps from tumbling. He has been through it all and he writes freely for the boys from his vast experience. They are real stories bound to hold their audiences breathlessly.
JOE STRONG, THE BOY WIZARDOr Mysteries of Magic ExposedJOE STRONG ON THE TRAPEZEOr The Daring Feats of a Young Circus PerformerJOE STRONG, THE BOY FISHOr Marvellous Doings in a Big TankJOE STRONG ON THE HIGH WIREOr A Motorcycle of the AirJOE STRONG AND HIS WINGS OF STEELOr A Young Acrobat in the CloudsJOE STRONG AND HIS BOX OF MYSTERYOr The Ten Thousand Dollar Prize TrickJOE STRONG, THE BOY FIRE-EATEROr The Most Dangerous Performance on Record
GEORGE SULLY & COMPANYPublishers New York