"Keep those engines going full speed astern!"
There was an anxious look on the face of the commanding officer of the battleship "Long Island," for it is a serious matter to run a ship of the Navy aground.
Fortunately, however, owing to Dan Davis' timely warning, the ship had drifted very slowly on the sand bar. Had it not been for that warning the battleship would have dashed full speed into the shoal water, where she would have stuck fast for many a day, even if she did not in the end prove a total loss.
"We seem to be fast and hard, sir," announced the executive officer.
"I am afraid we are, Coates. It's too bad. How's the tide?"
"About at the turn now, sir."
"Is she making any headway astern?"
"I'll ascertain, sir. Chains, there!"
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Is she going astern any?"
"She is standing still, sir. She hasn't moved."
"Keep your lead line out. Sing out the instant the ship begins to go astern," ordered the captain.
"Aye, aye, sir."
"I'm afraid she is swinging to port, sir," announced the executive.
The captain took a shore bearing and glanced along his ship toward the stern.
"Yes, this won't do at all. We'll be on the shoal broadside in a moment. Put out the starboard stern anchor. Draw her up tight. Be quick about it!"
A splash far aft told them that the anchor had gone overboard.
"Is she holding, Coates?"
"I think so, sir."
"Watch her. When the tide turns she may shift the other way, but I think that, by drawing the anchor chains taut, we can hold the ship where she is now."
"I do not think she is very far on. We ought to float at high tide, sir."
"Yes; we should, but you cannot always tell. This is too bad, though we did all we could. I hope this mishap has not injured her in any way."
"I do not see how that could be possible, sir. It is soft ground into which she has poked her nose."
"Yes; I could tell that by the way she went aground. Sandy bottom. Signalman!"
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Send a general recall to the boats. No need to keep them out there any longer. Besides, we shall need the boats here. Boatswain's mate!"
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Have the divers made ready to go down."
"Had we not best stop the engines now, sir?" asked the executive.
"No; keep them going. But watch her closely. In case they pull her off we shall have to be careful that we do not back into the anchor chain and foul the propellers."
"Very good, sir."
"Are the boats returning, signalman?"
"Yes, sir; they are all returning, sir."
The noon hour had arrived, and the crew was piped down to mess just as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. As the captain's motor boat drew alongside the captain called over to the boat to pull up by the starboard gangway. In a few moments he joined the boat there and boarded her.
"Run up under the bow of the ship," he commanded.
A few revolutions of the propeller brought them to the spot indicated.
"Is this the place you signaled about, Davis?" he demanded sharply.
"Yes, sir."
The bottom, shining and white, lay in plain sight. One had only to glance over the side of the motor boat to see it.
"Pass a lead line over the side."
A line was dropped to them and at the captain's command Dan Davis took a sounding.
"What do you make it?"
"By the deep, one, sir."
"As you signaled."
"Yes, sir."
"A close guess. You have a sharp eye, Davis."
The captain peered down. He could, by getting between the sun and the bow of the ship, look down to where the prow of the battleship disappeared in the white sand on the bottom of the bay.
"Do you want the divers over, sir?" called the executive officer.
"I think not, just now. It will be useless until we get her nose out of the sand. They cannot tell us any more than we know now."
The motor boat then made a tour of the ship, the captain surveying her from all points of view. The "Long Island" appeared to be resting easily, and the sea was comparatively smooth. A glance at the skies told the commanding officer that good weather might reasonably be expected for the rest of the day.
"Return to the starboard gangway," he commanded tersely.
The captain forgot to go to his luncheon that day. He paced the quarter-deck, watching the weather, receiving frequent reports from the forward end of the ship and having frequent tests made to determine the state of the tide.
The afternoon was well along before the welcome intelligence was brought to him that the tide was flowing strong and would be high within the next thirty minutes.
"Tell the engineer to stand by to go astern full speed," he said. "All hands not on necessary duty will gather on the quarter-deck, so that we may get all the weight possible aft. Pipe all hands aft, Mr. Coates."
The boatswain's whistle trilled here and there, and was finally lost in the depths of the ship. Soon the sailors began marching to the quarter-deck until that part of the ship was packed with them.
The captain, with his executive officer, went forward to the bridge.
"I think we had better try it now, Coates," he said. "Give orders to have the anchor shipped."
"Stand by the starboard anchor," commanded the executive.
A few minutes of waiting followed.
"Ship the starboard anchor!"
"Signal the engineer to send both engines full speed astern," ordered the captain.
The bridge telegraph clanked noisily, then a quiver ran through the ship. The commanding officer stood stolidly awaiting the result. It was an anxious moment for him, meaning perhaps the loss of his command, were he to fail to get his ship off the shoal on which it was grounded. But he was calm and self-possessed.
For a full moment the screws churned the water, turning it into a sea of suds astern of the battleship.
"Chains, there!"
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Is she going astern yet?"
"No, sir."
Commanding and executive officer exchanged significant glances.
"It looks as if we were hard and fast, Coates."
"Give her time to get a foothold. The next couple of minutes will tell the story, sir."
The next few seconds did tell the story that they were waiting to hear in almost breathless expectancy.
A slight lurch to port occurred. The beating of the engines seemed to be suddenly subdued.
"Going—astern—sir," sang the man in the chains.
"All clear," bellowed the bow watch.
"Coates, we're off!" said the captain, lifting his cap and wiping the perspiration from his brow.
The jackies on the after deck set up a great cheer.
"Mr. Navigator, have you got this shoal down on your chart now?"
"Yes, sir."
"Please see that there is no mistake about it. Have you got the ranges marked on the chart also?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very good. We do not want this thing to happen to us again, or to any one else. We have been very lucky in getting off so easily."
"Are you going to have the bottom examined?" asked the executive.
"Yes, when we get to the other side of the bay. Quartermaster, head her east by south one half."
"East by south one half she is. On the mark, sir."
"Hold her there till you get that point of land abeam, then swing."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Chains, there, keep the lead going."
The ship swung slowly round, then headed away on the new course, which she followed as the captain had directed. When opposite the point of land indicated a sharp turn was made, the vessel heading for the opposite side of the bay.
After half an hour the battleship had arrived at her first anchorage. At command, engines were stopped. Starboard anchor chains rattled loudly, sending up a shower of sparks as the anchor shot downward. Then the ship swung into the tide and came to rest.
"Do you wish the divers to go down now?"
"No; not until later. Have the hold examined, to see if she is leaking forward and report to me at once."
"Very good, sir," answered the executive, saluting. "Where will you be—here on the bridge?"
"No; I think I shall go to my cabin and have a good square meal. Strange to say, for the first time to-day I have an appetite."
The reports that the commanding officer received in his cabin were very encouraging. No water was found in the hold forward, and there was no indication that any damage had been done to the ship.
After finishing his lunch, the captain ordered the divers over to make an examination of the ship's bottom from the outside. They reported that the bottom was not even scratched by contact with the sand of the bay.
"We will discontinue torpedo practice for the day, Coates. It will be too late to do anything more. To-morrow we will go on with the work where we left off. I shall be busy the rest of the afternoon making a report to the Navy Department of the accident."
In his report the commanding officer told the full story, including the warning that Seaman Daniel Davis had wig-wagged to the ship from far out on the torpedo range.
In the early evening Dan was hunted out by the captain's orderly, who told the lad that the captain wished to see him in the former's quarters.
Dan was not sure whether he was in for a reprimand or not. But he hastened below as fast as he could.
"Good evening, lad," greeted the captain in a kindly tone.
"Good evening, sir," answered Dan.
"You discovered the shoal spot on your way out to the range to-day, did you not?"
"Yes, sir."
"How did you come to do that!"
"I try to observe everything, sir. The water there did not look like the rest of the water of the bay, so I looked over and saw the bottom."
"Exactly. Why did you not notify the ship? You had reasons for not doing so, eh?"
"Yes, sir."
"What were they?"
"In the first place, sir, it would have been presumptuous of me to have done so. In the second place, I thought that, of course, the navigator knew every inch of the bottom hereabouts."
"So did I," nodded the captain. "Your suppositions were wise. Knowing of the shoal place, you kept watch of us?"
"Yes, sir."
"How did you discover our danger from where you were?"
"I took shore sights as I went out, so that I might be able to locate the shoal if needed."
The eyes of the commanding officer gleamed with appreciation.
"You saw us heading on to it!"
"Yes, sir, I was watching you through the glass. When I saw that you were going to strike it, if you kept your course, I took the great liberty of warning you."
"Thank you, my lad. A board of inquiry will sit and pass upon the accident. That will, no doubt, be done within the next twenty-four hours. Other ships of the fleet will be in this afternoon, and the court will probably sit early to-morrow morning."
"And now, my lad," continued the captain, "I wish to express my deep appreciation for what you have done."
"I have done nothing, sir, except my duty, and I am not sure but that I have exceeded the limits of good discipline in that."
"By no means. Had you not done as you did the 'Long Island' would have driven full speed on the sand bar. She would be there still; she might have been there for many days to come; in fact, it might have meant the loss of the battleship. The Navy Department and the commanding officer of this ship owe you a heavy debt of gratitude, Seaman Davis. I can show my appreciation only by recommending you to the Department at the present moment. They possibly may show theirs in another way, and then I shall be able to do more for you."
"Thank you, sir. I am not looking for rewards. I am trying to do my duty, to serve my country and my Flag to the best of my ability."
"Davis, you are a splendid fellow," said the captain, rising and grasping the Battleship Boy by the hand impulsively. "Go on as you have been going, and there is little doubt as to what the outcome will be. Rest assured that I shall leave nothing undone that I can do, consistently with good discipline, to further your interests. I hear you have been chosen for the racing crew," added the commanding officer with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Yes, sir; that is, I am to be tried out, myself, and also my chum, Sam Hickey."
"I have no doubt that you will do well. It will be a splendid thing for you, giving you a new viewpoint from which to look upon the life of the sailor in Uncle Sam's Navy. I may have something further to say to you later on. That will be all for the present."
Dan saluted and left the captain's quarters.
The boy said nothing of what had been discussed in the captain's cabin. Not even to his own chum did he repeat a word of it.
On the following morning a board of inquiry which had been ordered at once by the Navy Department convened on board the "Long Island" in full dress. The court consisted of the captains and commanders of other ships of the fleet.
The ship's company were in their best clothes for the occasion. As the officers came over the side, sailors manned the gangway, two on each side, as befitted the rank of the officers visiting the ship.
With this inquiry no one except the captain and his executive officer had anything to do. The board of inquiry assembled in the reception room at the stern of the ship below, where they went into executive session, taking the evidence of the captain, the executive officer, and later the testimony of the navigator, who, by his charts, proved that the shoal had been indicated on none of them.
Dan was summoned to the court after the evidence had been taken. He was a little excited, because he feared that his evidence would count against the captain; but he entered the room with confident, easy bearing and stood awaiting the command of the president of the court.
Dan gave his name and rating in the service. The officers were struck with the clean-cut face, the intelligent eye and the steady nerve of the young seaman. There was approval of his type in every face there, but no one was more proud of the Battleship Boy than was the captain.
To all the questions put to him by the board of inquiry the lad gave quick, comprehensive answers. He volunteered no information of his own accord, merely answering the questions that were asked of him. He told of having discovered the shoal water, and of measuring the depth with his eye.
"How did you happen to discover that the water was shoal!" questioned one of the officers.
"From the color of it, sir."
"How long have you been in the service, did you say?"
"Nearly a year, sir."
"Did you volunteer to testify before this court?"
"I did not, sir."
"It is at my suggestion to you that the lad has been called here," spoke up the captain. "He was unaware that he was to testify, until you sent for him."
"You saw that the ship was headed directly for the shoal?" asked one of the officers, addressing Davis.
"Yes, sir."
"And you signaled them of their danger?"
"Yes, sir."
"Could the shoal water not be seen from the bridge of the ship, do you think?"
"I was not on the bridge, sir. I could not say. From the direction of the sun I should say the whole bay looked alike, judging from my observation when I have been up there, sir."
"Very good."
The officer was seeking to draw out the Battleship Boy to serve some purpose of his own.
"Why did you not notify the ship at once of your discovery?"
"I did not feel at liberty to do so, sir. I considered that it would be an impertinence to do so."
"That will be all, Davis. You may retire."
The court of inquiry closed soon after that, and the board took the evidence into consideration, excluding all persons from the cabin, including the captain.
The whole ship's company seemed to feel a sense of depression. They did not believe their commanding officer had been at fault, but they knew that Seaman Davis had saved the ship. Envious eyes were cast at the lad during the rest of the day. Dan, however, appeared not to observe this. He was more worried than any of his fellows, feeling that perhaps had he acted upon his first impulse, and notified the ship's officers of his discovery, all this might have been avoided.
After the inquiry the board lunched with the captain. Then they took their departure from the ship with the same formality that they had boarded it. It was noticed, after they had left, that the commanding officer appeared much relieved. His face brightened considerably, and the lines of worry that had appeared there after the accident seemed to have disappeared.
"I guess the Old Man feels better," whispered Sam to his chum. "He must have got a hunch."
They did not know it, but the board had held him blameless, subject to the approval of the Navy Department.
"Don't use slang. And, besides, I do not like to hear you refer to our captain as the 'Old Man.' It is not respectful."
"Everybody calls him that."
"Well, you are not everybody. Be different, for a change."
"Everybody in the Navy calls the captain the 'Old Man.'"
"You never heard me do so, did you?"
"Well, no," admitted Sam; "but you're not the whole Navy."
"I'm a very little part of it, but I have my ideas as to what is right and wrong."
The captain was standing on deck watching the work that was going on. The boatswain's mate was seen to come aft on the superstructure.
"Harper," called the captain.
"Aye, aye, sir."
"This will be a good opportunity to get out the racing gig."
"Now, sir?"
"No; not now. This afternoon, after four o'clock. The tide will not be strong then and the weather is fine. Some of these lads are anxious to get their try-out, too," with a glance at Dan Davis and Sam Hickey, which brought a flush to the face of each of the Battleship Boys.
There was a stir among the crew as the captain made the announcement. All their hopes were centered in the trim racing gig. To their way of thinking there was not another boat in the fleet in the same class with the "Long Island's" racing gig. Half a dozen men were instantly told off to rub the boat down under the watchful eyes of Joe Harper. All the rest of the afternoon they busied themselves about the gig, until, at last, the command was given, "Get ready for practice spin."
The members of the racing crew hurried to their quarters, and, at four o'clock sharp, appeared on deck, clad only in short trunks and shoes. Each man carried an oar, which he stood butt down on the deck in front of him.
The officers ran their eyes over the twelve muscular young men. The glances of all finally dwelt on Dan Davis and Sam Hickey and murmurs of surprise ran over the assemblage. Sam's arms were knotted with muscles, as were his back and legs. But it was Seaman Davis who, of the twelve, attracted the most attention.
Dan's muscles were not bunched like those of his companion; they were rounded in beautiful curves, symmetrical like those of a well-groomed race horse.
"No wonder Dynamite put a cauliflower ear on old Kester," laughed a shipmate.
"He's in wonderful condition," confided the captain to one of his officers. "That boy is a born athlete."
The gig was swinging over the side in a sling, being lowered by a big crane.
"Stand by," commanded the boatswain's mate, who was the coxswain of the gig.
The crew of the gig lined up at the rail.
"All over!"
They piled down the sea ladder, taking their places in the small boat.
"Toss!" The oars were raised upright. "Out oars!"
The oars were placed in the rowlocks.
"Cast off!"
The gig was shoved clear of the ship.
"Give way together!"
Eleven lusty sailors put their strength into the oars and the racing gig shot away from the side of the battleship, sending up a shower of white spray as it plunged into a rising swell.
Sam Hickey had been given the place nearest to the coxswain, with Dan just behind him. Some of the others were inclined to grumble at that, for Sam was next to the stroke oar, a position of honor.
Joe Harper, however, had his own ideas. He wanted the Battleship Boys near him, so that he might watch their work more closely.
"A little quicker on the recovery, there, Hickey. That's better. Davis, you're doing well. You pull like an old-timer. Number one, there, you're lagging. Swing your body from the hips and come forward as if you were going to throw yourself on your face. That's it! Now get in time as I count. When I say one, every man have his blade in the water and begin to pull. Now, one! one! one! one! one! one! Keep it up!"
The gig danced over the water at increasing speed.
All at once Sam Hickey uttered a yell. In attempting to turn his head to wink at Dan he had turned the blade of his oar forward. Of course he caught a crab. The boat was moving so swiftly that the force of the blow that Hickey got from the oar doubled him up, knocking him clear back into Dan's lap.
"O-u-u-u-ch!" yelled Sam, holding his stomach, his face working convulsively in his effort to control himself.
"Hurt you?" questioned Dan.
"I—I think it turned me around inside."
"You lubber, what did you do that for?" demanded the coxswain.
"Wha—what did I do—it for! Do you think I did that for fun? Do you think I did it on purpose?" Sam groaned again.
"You were looking around; you weren't attending to your business."
"I was not looking around. I was just trying to look around. If I'd been looking around I wouldn't have fallen on my back, would I?"
The men had ceased rowing, at command of the coxswain. Some of them were laughing at Hickey's predicament, while others were grumbling.
"Nice kind of a lubber to put aboard the gig!" growled a voice.
"Silence!" commanded the coxswain. "I'm commanding this boat just now. Hickey, sit up there!"
Sam did so, at the same time making a wry face.
"Are you able to go on? If not, we'll return to the ship and get a man who is."
Sam straightened up instantly.
"I'm all right, sir. I'll never go fishing for crabs in a gig again, sir."
The crew roared with laughter, but the red-headed boy was as solemn as an owl.
Once more they fell to their oars. Hickey redeemed himself during the rest of the practice. He caught no more crabs, but pulled a steady, quick stroke that brought nods of approval from the coxswain.
As for Seaman Davis, he never missed a stroke, and as the boat shot on he seemed to pick up in strength like a powerful gasoline motor under low speed on a steep hill. His oar swung with the precision of a piece of automatic machinery.
By this time the gig had gotten so far away that she could be made out from the ship only by the glasses of the officers. Finally they rounded a point of land, and the coxswain steered his boat into still water.
"Toss oars!" he commanded.
Eleven oars were raised upright, standing in two even rows.
"Well done, lads. Out oars!"
The oars struck the water with a single splash.
"I'd like to see any boat crew beat that for drill," announced the coxswain. "Lads, if you do as well when we get in an actual race as you have done to-day, barring Hickey's crab-fishing, you may not get the flag, but you will be well up toward the head of the line, and that's no joke. When in a race you should row just as if you were out for practice. Never get excited. Never mind what the other fellow is doing. The coxswain is supposed to attend to that. If he wants you to know he will tell you. Put every other thought out of your mind except your rowing. At every stroke keep your eyes on your stroke oar. We will now take a sprint, when I shall give you no commands. Rely wholly on your stroke oar."
At command the men began pulling. They did remarkably well, only two of them getting out of time during the entire run, which was a mile straight away.
"Very well done," announced the coxswain in an approving voice. "Davis, will you take the stroke-oar seat?"
"Yes, sir; if you wish."
"I want to see how you will hold the seat."
Dan and the stroke oar changed places.
"I want you all to be familiar with the work in every part of the boat. Stroke, I have no intention of displacing you permanently."
"I understand. That's all right, sir."
"How fast a stroke do you wish me to hit?" questioned Davis.
"About twenty to the minute. I thought you knew something about the game. Let's see if you can hit twenty."
The coxswain took out his watch.
"All ready. Stand by. Give way together."
Dan bent far forward, allowing just enough time to elapse before straightening his back to permit the other men to get into position. Then every oar hit the water at the same instant and the gig started away, but at a slightly lower speed than they had been rowing before.
"Minute's up. Exactly twenty strokes," announced the coxswain. "That was fine. Where did you learn how to time a boat! Were you ever in a race?"
"Not a big one, but I have watched the college crews practising. What little I know I have just picked up; that's all."
"You're a mighty good picker-up, then, that's all I've got to say about it," answered the coxswain, with a short laugh.
"The battleship is making signals, sir," spoke up Dan.
"How do you know?"
"I caught the flutter of a flag up aloft."
"No need of telescopes when you are around," said the coxswain, placing a glass to his eyes.
"Recall for the gig is up," he said. "Get under way. Davis, you hold the stroke oar on the way back."
"How fast, sir?"
"About eighteen strokes to the minute for a time. We will increase it to twenty and so on up. Don't wear your men out before you get home, though."
"No, sir; I won't."
The men settled down to the long, leisurely stroke, which they kept up until they were within about a mile of the ship.
"Shall I hit her up?"
"Yes."
"How fast?"
"Use your judgment. Do you want to make a finish?"
"Yes, sir; it will do us all good."
"Go ahead."
From eighteen strokes to the minute Dan worked it up to thirty, but so gradually that the men did not realize how fast they were going. They were drawing near the ship.
"Now, every man of you look alive to his work," warned the coxswain. "We do not want to make an exhibition of ourselves when we get near the ship. The whole ship's crew would have the laugh on us. Row as if you were in a race. Watch your stroke oar. That's it. Settle right down and saw wood."
The boat leaped ahead. Thirty-two strokes to the minute rolled up, then thirty-five.
The white foam was shooting from the bow of the gig, while the coxswain was stooping forward, his glistening eyes fixed on the battleship. With a great burst of speed the gig dashed up, every man pulling, every back glistening, under the salt spray that covered it.
The rails were lined with jackies. They set up a great cheer as the boat drew in and the command, "Toss oars!" was given.
It had been a great practice cruise and the ship's company was filled with wild excitement and anticipation. Dan had made a wonderful sprint as the stroke oar.
"You are on the crew, you and Seaman Hickey," said the boatswain's mate later in the evening. "I think I will put you in the stroke-oar position, after all."
"The other man will be displeased, will he not!" asked Dan.
"Every man in that boat must be willing to do whatever he can to perfect our organization, to help us win the race, even if he has to jump overboard to do it."
Dan nodded his approval.
"I wouldn't jump overboard for any old race," muttered Sam. "I can get wet enough by staying on board."
Every day thereafter the racing crew went out. No change in the crew had been found necessary, and her coxswain considered that he had the best crew in the fleet.
Excitement was daily growing, as the time approached for the great gig race, when boats from all the ships of the fleet would enter the contest. A valuable silver cup was to be the trophy to be raced for. It would have a place of honor on the ship of the winning crew, where it would remain for a year and perhaps longer—remain until some other ship's racing crew should win it.
Each afternoon the gig's crew was turned out for a practice spin. The men were working better and better, pulling almost as one man. Even the ship's officers felt that they had never had a better chance to win the cup, and were proportionately elated.
A short cruise was made up to the Maine coast; then the ship returned to her former anchorage to complete the torpedo practice that had been interrupted when the battleship went aground.
The first night on the anchorage proved an exciting one. Off some four miles, behind a point of land where her cage masts could be faintly made out, lay the flagship with the admiral of the fleet on board. He had come in while the "Long Island" was off up the coast on her short cruise.
When an admiral is about it behooves the commanders of other ships to be on their guard, to keep a sharp lookout for surprises. Admirals are prone to give most unexpected orders at any time. For that reason the first night on the old anchorage saw more than one officer of the deck on duty. One was placed on the bridge and one aft on the quarter-deck.
The ship settled down to silence at the usual hour; the seamen were in their hammocks and the officers had retired to their staterooms for a night's rest in the quiet waters of the bay.
Eight bells had just struck, midnight, when a messenger rushed down to the captain's quarters from the quarter-deck. Without waiting to knock, he called loudly, as he poked his head in through the curtained doorway.
"What is it?"
"Abandon ship, sir!"
Without an instant's hesitation the commanding officer reached up over his bed, pulling down a brass lever with a violent jerk.
Gongs began to crash all over the ship, from the stoke hole to the navigating bridge.
"Abandon ship!" bellowed boatswain's mates and masters-at-arms. "Abandon ship!" sang voices in the forecastle, the cry being taken up from lip to lip from one end to the other of the great battleship.
Men tumbled from their hammocks, and, without waiting to pull on their clothes, dashed for the open decks. From far below black-faced stokers ran up the companion ladders and burst out on the topside.
"Man the lifeboats! Everything overboard!" sang an officer through a megaphone.
The signal gongs were clanging automatically all through the ship. They would continue to do so for full five minutes, giving no excuse for any one to be left on board. Boats and rafts were going over at a rapid rate, the great cranes swinging out the heavier boats with speed and precision. Most of the men were working coolly while others—the newer men on board—were showing signs of excitement.
A red-haired boy came dashing up to the top of the superstructure.
"What's the matter—what's the matter?" he shouted.
"Oh, the ship's on fire," answered some one.
"On fire—where?"
"Over there. She's going down. You'll have to hurry or you'll get caught in the suction. Look over the side and you'll see the fire coming right up out of the sea."
Sam Hickey dashed to the side of the ship and leaned forward to peer over. He did not know that the rope railings had come down at the first alarm in order to facilitate putting over the rafts and other deck equipment.
When Sam leaned, there was nothing to lean upon. The result was that he toppled right on over.
"Man overboard!" came the familiar cry. "Cast the life rings."
"Look out below there. Man overboard!" roared an officer through his trumpet.
"Where away?" answered a voice from the boats down in the darkness.
"He fell over from topside," answered another.
"Who is the man?"
"Seaman Hickey."
"Find him, find him! What are you doing down there, you lazy lubbers? You stand there letting a man drown without making an effort to save him!"
"Who's drowning?" demanded a voice over the heads of the men in the small boats.
"Hickey; Seaman Hickey!"
"Pshaw! Seaman Hickey isn't drowning, and I don't believe the ship's on fire, either. What's the matter with you fellows! Whole ship's been having bad dreams, I guess."
"Who are you?"
"I'm Hickey. I guess I ought to know."
"Where are you?"
"I'm sitting on top of the steamer's awning just now, but if you wiggle around much more below there, I'll be in the foaming brine."
"Is that you, Hickey?" called an officer from the quarter-deck.
"Yes, sir."
"How did you get there?"
"Fell here, sir. I didn't jump, sir. Honest, I fell off the ship. I might have been going yet if——"
"That will do," commanded the officer in a stern voice. "Get off the steamer's hood, and be quick about it!"
Sam slid down a stanchion, causing the small steamer to careen dangerously. Two sailors grabbed him by the legs and hauled him aboard, Hickey's head and shoulders being plunged into the sea as they did so.
Sam came aboard choking, sputtering and threatening to thrash the whole steamer's crew.
"Silence in steamer number one!" roared an officer.
"Aye, aye," answered Sam.
"You shut up!" ordered the coxswain. "Do you think you are running this boat?"
"I nearly ran my head through the roof of the confounded thing," retorted Sam, wringing the water out of his red hair. "What's all this row about, anyway? I don't see any fire or anything else worth getting out of bed for at this time of night."
"Sam, is that you making all that noise?" questioned Dan Davis, from a whaleboat that had pulled alongside.
"I don't know about the noise. I'm in steamer number one, if that's what you mean."
"What happened to you?"
"I didn't change my mind this time, and I fell overboard, that's all."
"Did you fall in?"
"No, I fell on—and that's worse."
"On what?"
"I fell on top of the steamer. I was headed all right, but the steamer got in my way. I'd have made a beauty dive into the salt sea if the steamer hadn't got in the way. But what's all this ruction for?"
"It is a drill."
"A drill!" exclaimed Hickey in disgust.
"Yes."
"What kind of drill?"
"Abandoning ship."
"Pshaw, if I'd have known that I'd stayed in bed. The idea of a drill in the middle of the night, and after I've rowed half way to Europe in the racing gig. Who started this thing, anyway?"
"The admiral signaled all ships in the harbor to abandon ship. I presume all of them are taking the time, and we shall see who succeeded in getting away from their ship first."
"I'll bet I'd have broken the record if they had taken my time. That's the only way to abandon ship in a hurry."
"How's that, Hickey?" questioned a shipmate.
"Head first," answered Sam.
"Return to ship," came the command. "Be lively there, men. This counts on record, too. All boats to be hoisted aboard as they were."
The men piled over the side of the ship to the decks in fully as quick time as they had left. In a very brief time the small boats were emptied, excepting for the men who were manning them, two men in each boat to attend to making fast the falls for hoisting and riding up to the decks in the little craft.
The drill was ended without a mishap, save that which had occurred when Hickey tried to lean against the ship's rail and failed.
Lights, red, white and blue, were twinkling from the masts of the various ships at anchor in the bay, while officers on the bridge of the "Long Island" were reading them.
"Is signalman there?" called the captain from the bridge.
"Aye, aye, sir," came the response.
"Signal the flagship that the 'Long Island's' crew abandoned ship in four minutes and twenty seconds."
The signalman did so, working the keyboard of his signal apparatus—that somewhat resembled a typewriter machine—causing colored lights to flash and twinkle far up on the forward mast of his own ship.
"'Good work, sir,' the admiral says."
"Ask him for the best time."
"Flagship signals that the 'Long Island' has made a record for abandoning ship. Five minutes best time in previous record. To-night's second-best record, four minutes and fifty seconds."
"Mr. Coates, will you pass the word to the men by megaphone?" asked the captain.
"Aye, aye, sir. Battleship crew, there!"
"Aye, aye, sir," roared a hundred or more voices.
"The 'Long Island' beats all competitors in abandoning ship by thirty seconds, and has broken all previous records."
A roar went up that fairly shook the ship; then two hundred voices were raised in song:
"Oh, say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?"
The strains of the inspiring song floated out over the waters of the bay until one verse had been sung, the officers offering no objection to the jollification. But, ere the men could begin on the second verse, the bugle blared loudly, piping all hands back to hammocks. Ten minutes later the battleship was silent and the decks deserted. The "Long Island's" crew, almost to a man, was sound asleep.