"You got them all, did you?" questioned the captain.
"Yes, sir."
"Good work! Did you have any trouble?"
"Nothing very much, sir."
"You look it," the captain laughed. "You will appear at mast this afternoon, at one o'clock, and give such evidence as you may have obtained, relating to where you found the men, and who of them offered resistance."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Mr. Coates, are all our men accounted for?"
"I will ascertain, sir."
The executive officer returned a few minutes later and saluted.
"The master-at-arms reports that the ship's crew is on board."
"Very good; we will get under way at once. Davis, I take pleasure in commending you for your excellent work. You have done much better than I had any idea you could possibly do. That will be all. Your uniform needs attention."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Dan seemed fated to lose his clothes. He was without a hat, his garments were torn and soiled and his hair looked as if it had not felt the touch of a comb in many days. His condition necessitated another visit to the canteen for fresh supplies.
"If this keeps on I shall be spending all my wages for uniforms," said the boy with a happy laugh, as he drew a cap, a new jacket, a blouse, and a new rating badge.
The forecastle presented a scene of activity when finally Dan emerged upon it from the forward companionway. Orders were being passed rapidly, boatswain's mates were piping up their different watches and jackies were making all snug about the decks.
"I think we are ready, Mr. Coates," announced the captain.
"Up anchor!" roared the executive through his megaphone.
Chains rattled and clanked as the powerful electric apparatus began hauling in the heavy anchors.
"Anchors shipped, sir," sang a midshipman from the forecastle.
"Slow speed ahead, both engines," ordered the captain.
The ship swung slowly about, clouds of black smoke belching from her funnels. Poking her nose out into the English Channel, the battleship headed southward for a long cruise.
The band on the quarter-deck about this time struck up "The Red, White and Blue," every jackie on the decks raising his voice in the words of the song. It was an inspiring scene.
Dan Davis felt an unusual pride that afternoon. He had accomplished something of which he was proud, and for which he had a right to be proud.
Shortly after mess the mast court was called, at which all the delinquents that the Battleship Boy and his squad had rounded up were arraigned on deck. This was the part of his work that the boy did not like. He was placed in a position where, if he should tell the truth, he would be obliged to give information that would send some of his shipmates to the ship's brig for many days. It was a foregone conclusion that Dan would tell the truth, and he did. He related the story of the arrest of each man, leaving out his own part in the affair as much as possible. However, the facts were skilfully drawn out by the commanding officer.
Most of the men who had overstayed their leave were remanded for trial by summary court, and two days later, at muster, sentence was pronounced.
The "Long Island" was now starting on a long cruise to southern waters. The Battleship Boys were looking forward to new sights and new scenes, as well as new experiences, of which they were to have a full measure.
The English Channel was left behind two days later, the battleship beginning once more her strife with the broad Atlantic. The skies were gray and the water of that dull leaden hue which to the experienced eyes of the sailor means trouble.
Before that afternoon had come to a close huge seas were breaking over the forecastle, sending the spray over the bridge and high up on the military masts.
"The glass is falling, sir," announced the navigating officer.
"Yes; we are in for a rough night," answered the captain. "Is all secure, Mr. Coates?" he asked, turning to the executive officer.
"All is secure, sir."
The quarter-deck, long since, had begun shipping seas, so that now it was wholly awash, the deck being buried beneath tons of water, save now and then when it would rise, dripping, from the sea, only to bury itself again a few minutes later, the after flag staff disappearing beneath the green seas that swept over it.
Sea after sea would rise over the forecastle, leap the forward turret, striking the weather cloths of the bridge with a swish and a thud, then go hissing past the officers on the bridge with terrific speed.
Watches had been set as if the hour were late, for it was becoming more and more difficult to see ahead, in the blinding salt spray that hung over the ship like a fog.
As far as the eye could reach the sea was a mass of angry, swirling waters, here and there rising into great white-capped mountains.
All at once the voice of the lookout in the tops sang out a new call.
"Waterspout off the starboard bow!"
Instantly every man within sound of the lookout's voice sprang up to view the sight.
"Pipe all hands up to see waterspout!" roared the executive officer.
It was dangerous business coming on deck in that sea, but the men knew how to look out for themselves. They came piling from hatchway and companionway like as many monkeys.
"Where away?" called one.
"Off the starboard bow," answered a voice from the bridge.
When the battleship rose on a great heaving billow a splendid sight was obtained of the twister. The swirling pillar of water appeared to reach high up into the skies. The column was traveling at tremendous speed.
"What would happen if the thing should hit us?" questioned Sam Hickey apprehensively.
"It would rake your red hair and turn it green," jeered a companion.
"I'd hate to be on board a ship that it did hit," added a boatswain's mate.
"I was on a barkentine, trading between New York and Brazil once, when we got hit by a twister," said a machinist's mate.
"Do any harm?"
"Not much. Stripped her clean, washed seven sailors overboard and a few other trifles."
"Do you mean it washed a few other trifles overboard?" questioned Hickey.
"No; I don't mean anything of the sort. I mean that it cut up a few other capers. We were picked up by a coasting steamer three days later, half drowned."
"Any danger of her coming our way?" asked Sam a little apprehensively.
"I guess not. The officers will look out for that."
The officers on the bridge were looking after the waterspout, and very carefully at that. An extra watch was posted in each of the military tops, with instructions to keep a keen lookout. Hickey was one of these. His station was on top of the forward cage mast, a hundred feet from the deck.
The red-haired boy's head swam as he clung desperately to the rope ladder in his perilous ascent. Now and then the battleship would heel over until it seemed as if she never would come back.
When half way up he paused a few seconds, to turn his head aft and get a free breath, for water was smiting him at every step. He saw a signal wig-wagged to him from the after mast. It was from Dan Davis, who was going up on the same duty.
"I'll race you to the top," signaled Davis.
"Go you!" answered Sam, starting up the ladder at a lively clip. Dan was not caught napping. He was off with Sam. Every little distance up these masts is a landing made of woven leather strands, and a person mounting to the top has to cross each one of these, taking a ladder on the other side.
The Battleship Boys barely struck the high places in crossing the landings. It seemed as if they surely must fall.
"Look careful, aloft there!" roared a voice from the bridge.
"Aye, aye, sir," floated back the reply from Hickey.
They had reached next to the last landing, far up there in the spray-laden air, when a shout attracted all eyes aft.
A man was seen hanging from the platform by his feet. With each roll of the ship his body would swing far out from the mast, as he hung suspended between sea and sky.
"Man the main mast!" thundered an officer, his voice being heard above the roar of the storm.
Half a dozen jackies sprang for the mast.
"Who is the man aloft there?" demanded the captain.
"It's Gunner's Mate Davis, sir," answered the executive officer.
The captain groaned.
"He'll be lost. Look alive there, men! Quick! Quick!"
Sam had seen and understood, but he did not halt. He was under orders to go to the top, and to the top he went as fast as his feet and hands would carry him. Not until he had reached the swaying platform at the top of the cage mast did he venture to look astern.
The lad's heart fairly leaped into his throat as he saw his companion's terrible peril.
In running across the landing, Dan had been caught by a sudden violent lurch of the ship and thrown forward. He felt his head and shoulders going through between the braces of the mast. With quick instinct he spread both legs, turning his toes outward.
Nothing else saved him from plunging a hundred feet into the sea. And there he clung by his feet, every muscle in his body strained to its utmost tension. With each roll of the ship he felt that he would be unable to hold on through another.
"Hold fast!" shouted a voice far below him.
"Hold fast—they're coming!" howled Sam Hickey from his perch high in the air. His voice was lost on the roar of the gale, but he did not know it.
"Where's that confounded waterspout?" he muttered. "Oh, I see it. The thing is going to come pretty close to the ship, I'm afraid. But I don't care. I'm too high up to get hit by it."
His mind turning from the waterspout to Dan Davis, Sam wheeled, steadying himself by holding tightly to the railing that extended around the top. Every lurch of the ship was like "cracking-the-whip" at school. It seemed to make every bone in one's body snap.
Sam groaned as he saw Dan swaying back and forth.
"Oh, why doesn't he grab the mast? Why doesn't he?"
Sam did not know that Dan was making desperate efforts to do this very thing, but thus far had been unable to.
All at once the lad's feet slipped out of position.
"He's going! He's going overboard!" yelled Hickey in a voice that was heard on the bridge and to the stern of the superstructure.
Sam shut his eyes and stood there trembling. He had forgotten waterspout, raging sea and all—all save the fact that his companion was falling.
A yell aroused him. The yell was different from the rest. It was a yell of joy. Sam opened his eyes, blinked, rubbing the salt water out of them, then gazed aft through the mist.
"There he goes! Oh, that's too bad!" groaned the captain.
He had seen the boy's body shoot outward.
"No, he's struck something. He's caught a stay," cried the executive officer.
"He'll never hang there. He'll surely go over now."
Dan was hanging with desperate courage to the rope that he had caught.
"Such grit! What a pity!"
By this time the jackies had reached the platform, but they could be of no assistance to their shipmate. Dan was hanging twenty feet out from where they were.
He seemed to have lost his bearings, and, for the moment, appeared not to realize where he was. Little by little his power of reasoning returned to him, while all hands were watching him with breathless interest. The stay to which he was clinging extended forward to the foremast, running from the middle of the mainmast to the middle of the foremast.
Hand over hand the plucky lad began moving along the rope brace. It was slow progress at best. At last he was directly over the huge funnels. Hot, suffocating smoke, belching from the funnels, hid him from the view of those on deck. The smoke and coal gas well-nigh strangled the boy, but he kept on. A cheer reached his ears as he at last emerged from the cloud of black smoke.
"Keep it up, Dynamite! Keep it up!" howled a dozen voices.
"Steady now! Hold to your course. You're on the last lap!"
"Come on, Dan!" howled Sam Hickey, dancing about on his insecure foothold, almost beside himself with excitement.
On the other hand, at that moment, Dan Davis was perhaps the least excited of all that ship's company. He was in full command of himself, though his arms ached and he had to exert great self-control to keep from letting go. Now and then he would pause, hanging by one hand to rest the other arm, then he would go on again, moving more rapidly than before.
"Bridge, there!" roared Sam.
"Aye, aye."
"Can't somebody come aloft to give Davis a hand when he reaches the foremast?"
"Get aloft, there!" bellowed the executive officer.
"Yes, the boy Hickey has more sense than all the rest of we officers down here," exclaimed the captain.
Men ran up the ladders in a squirming white line, and quickly clambered out into the steel rigging. As Dan neared them they stretched forth their hands.
"Only a little way further, matey," they encouraged. "That's the boy! You'll make a tight-rope walker one of these days, only you want to learn to walk with your feet instead of your hands."
"Grab me!" called Dan.
"Got him!" yelled a jackie at the top of his voice.
The word carried to the bridge and to the superstructure, where a hundred or more sailors were crouching trying to peer up into the mist. They broke forth into a wild yell of applause.
In the meantime strong hands had grasped Dan, pulling him in among the steel supports of the cage mast, where they held him while he rested from his great ordeal.
Sam Hickey was dancing a jig on the top of the military mast, yelling as if he had suddenly gone mad.
"The boy is safe, sir," announced the executive officer.
"Thank God!" breathed the captain. "Aloft, there!"
"Aye, aye."
"Is Davis all right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Send him below as soon as he is able."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"I'm able now," said Dan. "I'm going below. I've got to get back to my station."
"All right, matey. Want any help?"
"No; I can get down alone."
Dan's arms ached, and his muscles were pretty well stiffened, as he started to make his way down the rocking mast.
At last he reached the foot of the mast, which was the navigating bridge of the ship, and started to run down the steps to return to his post.
"Davis!" The voice was sharp and commanding.
"Aye, aye, sir," answered the boy, halting and saluting.
"Where are you going?"
"To my post, sir," he answered, as he faced the commanding officer.
"You need not return to your post. There are enough men aloft in the mainmast now. You have done quite enough. How did you happen to fall?"
The boy explained, not omitting the fact that he and Sam were running a race for the tops.
The captain did not rebuke the boy for this, perhaps realizing that Dan had already been severely punished for his foolhardiness.
"That is all for the present. Aloft, there!"
"Aye, aye, sir."
"How about that waterspout!"
The seas were engulfing the ship so that the officers could not see the waterspout at all. They had wholly lost sight of it.
"Yeow! Wow!" yelled a voice far above their heads.
Looking up, they saw the red-headed Sam dancing again, shouting lustily and pointing off the starboard bow.
"Aloft, there, what is it?"
"Waterspout! Waterspout!" howled Hickey.
"Where away?"
"It ain't away at all."
"Where away? Answer, you lubber!"
"Right off the starboard bow, sir. Look out, she's going to hit us! Lo-o-o-o-k out! Ye-ow!"
"Hard aport!" shouted the captain. "Hold fast on the bridge! Look alive, men aft, there! Waterspout coming aboard. Every man look out for himself!"
All tried to do so, but not all were quick enough to get under cover. Only a few of them succeeded.
With a terrifying roar the waterspout swept down on the ship. It towered above them like a huge mountain, bearing to the northeast. It struck the battleship on the starboard bow, sending a shiver through the ship, hurling to the deck every man who was not clinging to some support.
The twister recoiled after sending tons of water over the ship—recoiled as if to gather strength for a final crushing blow. The quartermaster, who had been holding the steering wheel, had been wrenched from the wheel and hurled down a flight of steps to the spar deck. Not an officer on the bridge was on his feet.
Dan Davis, who had crept up the companionway to get a better view of the waterspout, was huddled against the cage mast, clinging to one of its supports.
All at once he discovered that no one was at the wheel. Without waiting for an order, he leaped forward. Grasping the wheel, he swung it sharply to port. The thought suddenly occurred to him that the best way to meet the twister would be head-on. He did not know what the result of such a meeting might be, nor did he have time to think. As it was, the ship was laboring in the trough of a terrific sea, and might be swamped.
The bow of the ship pierced the base of the waterspout. With a mighty roar the towering column of water suddenly collapsed. The sound was like thunder, as tons upon tons of water beat down on the decks. The whole ship seemed to be under water. Everything movable was moving. The officers lay prone upon the narrow navigating bridge, clinging to its stanchions for their lives.
At the wheel a hatless boy, fairly swimming in salt water, was working to get a foothold that would enable him to swing the ship. At last he managed to wrap both legs about the wheel frame, and there he clung, tugging at the wheel with all his strength.
Very slowly, at first, the ship began to respond. First the battleship seemed to shake itself, trying to throw off the great weight of water upon its decks; then its blunt, stubborn bow rose clear of the seas. A moment, and the shining decks themselves cleared the water, every scupper discharging a green salt flood overboard, every deck below soaked with brine.
The captain was the first to regain his feet. He sprang up, his eyes taking in the after part of the ship in one sweeping, comprehensive view. Then his eyes rested on the man at the wheel.
"Davis, is that you?"
"Yes, sir."
"You weren't at the wheel before we were struck?"
"No, sir."
"How did you happen to get there?"
"I guess I must have been washed here, sir.
"Where is the quartermaster who was at the wheel?"
"I saw him falling down the after companionway, sir. I think you will find him on the spar deck, sir."
"You steered us out?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where is the spout?"
"I smashed it, sir."
"You what?"
"Smashed it."
"How?"
"I steered the ship into it."
"You did that?"
"Yes, sir," answered Dan, now expecting that he was in for a severe rebuke.
"Explain."
"I saw, immediately after the wheelman had been swept away, that the ship was in a bad position. The waterspout was going to hit us, quartering on the starboard bow. It seemed to me that the best thing to do would be to split it. I didn't know whether I could do it or not, but I made up my mind to try. There was no one to ask, nor time to do so. I had to do something in a hurry."
"So you rammed the waterspout, eh?"
"I did, sir."
"What do you think of that, Coates?" as the executive officer picked himself up, wet, capless, very much the worse for his encounter with the waters of the twister.
"What is that, sir?"
"Davis rammed the twister."
The captain then went on to relate in detail what had happened while they were on their faces, holding fast to the bridge stanchions to keep from going overboard.
"Davis, I shall have to commend you again and for this—perhaps saving the ship—I shall send your name in to the department. Quartermaster, here!"
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Man the wheel!"
Night came on; dark, heavy clouds were hanging low in the sky, the wind shrieking dismally.
The jackies, however, were happy. They were not disturbed by the roar of the gale. So rough was the sea, however, and so heavy the roll of the ship, that it was decided not to set the mess tables for the evening meal. The men sat around on the lower decks, legs crossed, balancing themselves and their plates of food, joking and laughing over the little mishaps of their companions.
Down in the captain's quarters matters were little better. Most of the time the commanding officer was holding to his own table with both hands. A plate of hot soup had just turned turtle, landing in his lap, soiling the spotless uniform that he had put on after returning from the bridge. The officers in the ward room, where all the other commissioned officers eat, were having their own troubles.
All at once there was a yell. Some tumbled over backwards in their chairs, while others sprang up and scrambled out of harm's way, as a huge object came hurling through the air. It landed full force on the mess table, the table going down beneath it with a mighty crash.
The dark object was the ward-room's upright piano. The captain, hearing the crash, rushed in from his quarters adjoining.
"What's wrong?" he shouted.
"Nothing, captain. There's music in the air, that's all," answered the ship's surgeon. This put all hands in good humor, even though a quantity of china had been utterly ruined.
China was not troubling the jolly tars forward, nor were they disturbed over the wet decks on which they were sitting. Every man of them was soaked with salt water.
In the galley kettles were sliding across the range, and from there out on to the deck. Food was everywhere, except where it should have been.
Suddenly the jackies on the seven-inch gun deck set up a yell of delight. A steward descending a ladder carrying a kettle of hot beans suddenly lost his hold.
With a howl, he plunged headlong. Sam Hickey chanced to be right in the path of the human projectile. The kettle of boiling hot beans turned turtle just as it was hovering over the red-headed boy's head. Down came kettle, beans and all over Sam's head. Part of the contents scattered, catching other unlucky jackies who were sitting near him.
Hickey's yells could be heard above the roar of the storm, as he scrambled madly to his feet, tugging at the kettle to get it off his head. The handle had dropped down under his chin.
Shipmates sprang to his rescue, else Sam would have been seriously burned. As it was, his face was red and swollen, his hair was matted with beans and his eyes glared angrily.
"You did that on purpose," he howled, starting for the unlucky steward.
"Yes, of course he did," urged several voices. "He ought to be dumped overboard for the fishes."
"No; he's too tough, they wouldn't eat him."
The steward himself settled the question of his disposal, by scrambling up the companionway as fast as he could go. He knew the jackies well enough to be aware that they would like nothing better than having some sport with the "sea cook," as they call every man connected with the kitchen department.
"Hello, Sam, what's the matter?" questioned Dan Davis, as he shot across the deck head first, having lost his grip on the frame of the water-tight door where he had been standing for a moment.
"Look out! Here comes the dynamite projectile!" warned a voice.
Dan landed among a group of sailors, and what food they had in hand was scattered all over that part of the deck. The next second he found himself sprawling in the middle of the deck, where they had hurled him.
Hickey grinned.
"What's the matter with you?"
"I must have been fired with a charge of smokeless powder, as I don't see any smoke," laughed Dan. "Well, you are a sight! What happened to you?"
"Beans!" jeered the jackies.
"I thought you looked like one of the fifty-seven varieties," laughed Dan Davis, at which there was a loud uproar.
"Throw him overboard. It's them kind of jokes that causes waterspouts and earthquakes. Don't you ever dare say anything like that again, Dynamite, or we'll forget you're a shipmate and bounce you!"
"You had better begin right now, then," retorted Dan defiantly. "I'm ready for any kind of a row you want to start. It's a good night for a rough-and-tumble. We haven't anything else to do. Come on, if you are looking for trouble."
Dan squared off as if ready for a fight. Just then the ship gave a heavy lurch. The Battleship Boy disappeared under one of the big guns. His messmates hauled him out by the feet, amid shouts of laughter, and began tossing him about as if he were a ball.
Davis took his rough treatment good-naturedly.
"Thought you were going to fight?" jeered the jackies.
"No; like Sam Hickey, I've changed my mind," laughed Dan.
"Hark!"
"What is it?" All hands stopped to listen.
"It's the bugle. They're piping some squad to quarters. I wonder what's up now?"
"That's the whaleboat crews they're piping up," nodded Dan. "I guess the boats are being washed away."
"There goes another call."
"Starboard seven-inch gun crew called to quarters!" shouted Gunner's Mate Davis. "Jump for it, boys!"
There was a rush of those of the gun crew who were on the deck with Dan. They well knew that something was wrong at their station. For all they knew they might have been called to work the gun; still such a call was hardly to be looked for during the mess hour.
Reaching the seven-inch turret, they found the place flooded with salt water. With every lurch of the ship a great column was forced in, as if through a gigantic hose. The first charge of this caught Sam Hickey, sweeping him clear out into the corridor.
Sam came back, choking and coughing, yelling at every one in his excitement.
"Attention!" roared the gun captain.
"Attention!" repeated Dan Davis. He saw instantly what had happened.
"The steel buckler plates have been wrenched loose!"
These buckler plates are employed to cover the opening in the side of the ship about the guns. Without them the ship would be flooded in heavy weather.
It was not an easy task that had been set for the gun crew. Every man knew that.
"Who will volunteer to do the work outside?" demanded the gun captain.
"I'll attend to that," answered Dan promptly.
"Me, too," added Sam, without hesitation. "I can't get any wetter than I am."
"You'll get something besides wet," said the captain. "Very well, you two go out. Hold fast! Look out for yourselves."
The Battleship Boys were climbing from the turret ere the words were out of his mouth.
"Don't try any tricks, Sam," advised Davis.
"Better take that advice to yourself. If I remember rightly you were running a race, or something, when you fell off the cage mast to-day. Woof!"
A heavy sea smashed into them, laying them flat on the deck. The boys hung on until the sea had rolled over them. They were high up on the superstructure, where the seven-inch guns are located. Not a thing could they see in the darkness, but they knew their way about as well as if it had been broad daylight.
The buckler plates were thrust in from the inside of the turret, the duty of the lads outside being to make fast the catches which were employed to hold the buckler plates in position in heavy weather. Under ordinary conditions it was not necessary to set these emergency catches. It had not been done in this instance, consequently the plates were battered in, flooding the deck and all that part of the ship.
"All ready out here!" shouted Dan.
With a grating sound the bucklers were shoved into position.
"Click!"
The catches snapped into place.
"Right!" bellowed Hickey, placing his lips close to the side of the muzzle of the gun.
"Come, let's get out of here," called Dan.
"Look out for yourself. Duck! Grab!" roared Sam.
"Wha—what——"
Dan did not complete the sentence. A wall of water struck the turret with a report like that of the three-inch forward rifles.
From the depths of the great green wave came a muffled yell. Sam Hickey's grip had been wrenched loose from the guard rope at the side of the muzzle of the seven-inch.
At the same instant both lads felt themselves lifted from their feet.
Then down, down they dropped. It seemed to them that hours were consumed in that terrible drop. They felt themselves falling into an abyss of the sea. Such was not the case, however, though their situation was, at that instant, every bit as serious as if they had in reality been falling into the sea. As it was, they were being swept toward it.
The smash of the wave having carried them from their feet, rolled them along the upper or spar deck, dropping them down some twenty feet to the quarter-deck, that was all awash. Fortunately the water below caught them, or they might have been killed in the twenty-foot fall to the quarter-deck.
Suddenly Sam came into violent contact with something that he gripped anxiously. That something did not give way. Dan met with a similar experience, and there the lads hung, neither knowing what had become of the other, seas smiting them, threatening every second to hurl them on and into the sea itself.
In the meantime those of the gun crew had returned to the gun deck to dry their clothes. The gun captain, however, waited for the return of the boys who had gone outside.
"I wonder what has become of those boys," he mused, peering out through the hatchway that he opened the merest crack. There was neither sight nor sound of them.
"Davis! Hickey!" he bellowed.
His effort brought no answer.
The gun captain knew no personal fear. He stepped out, closing the hatch behind him quickly. He clung there, watching, listening, then shouting. All at once he turned and hurried back to the gun deck. Sending word to the executive officer, he informed that officer of the absence of the two boys.
The captain heard the news a moment later, and a stir ran all through the ship.
"They're overboard. Nothing could save them, sir," advised the executive officer.
"Man the searchlights. Both tops!" commanded the captain, now all activity. "Pipe all hands to stations!"
The searchlights flashed out over the troubled sea. Nothing but water—angry, foaming water—could be seen. Not a sign that looked as if it might be a man were they able to pick up.
"They're trying to find us. They think we have gone overboard," muttered Dan Davis. He uttered a loud shout.
At that instant there sounded another shout close by him. At first he thought it was the echo of his own voice. All at once he made the discovery that some one else was near.
"Hello!" shouted Dan.
"Hello yourself!"
"Is that you, Sam?"
"No, it's only part of me. Most of me has been blown overboard. That you, Dan?"
"Ye-e-e-s," answered Davis in a choking voice. "Yell, Sam, if you've got any voice left. Yell for your life. They don't see us."
Hickey uttered a lusty howl. Dan saw at once that the men in the tops were unable to depress the searchlights enough to sweep the quarter-deck with the light rays.
"They don't see us, Sam. Yell louder."
"I'll have to borrow a stomach pump to jerk the salt water out of me, before I can yell any more at all. I'm afloat, inside and out, and not a compass to guide me. Where are we?"
Dan felt about him cautiously.
"I think we are astern somewhere. Judging from the position of the searchlights, I think we must be somewhere on the quarter-deck."
"How'd we get here?"
Another wave made it impossible for Davis to answer for a minute or so. When finally he had gotten his breath he said:
"I think we must have been washed here. But——"
"Say, let's get out of here, Dan."
"But how we ever dropped from the topside to the quarter-deck without being killed is more than I can figure out."
"I'm going to try to cross the deck."
"Don't do it, Sam. You will be swept into the sea instantly. Wait! I have a plan."
"What is it?"
"Can you work your way along the rope railing to where I am?"
"I can swim over to you."
"Come on, then, but keep tight hold of the rail."
"Here's the flagstaff," shouted Sam. "I've got my bearings now."
"You will need something more than that to get you out of this scrape. Come up close to me and I'll tell you what to do."
"Here I am. Where are you?"
Dan reached out a hand, grasping the arm of his companion.
"There ought to be a rope right at the foot of the staff, here. Yes, here it is. Hold fast to me, so I don't go overboard, while I untie the knot."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'll show you in a minute."
Dan made the rope fast to a cleat on the after stanchion, then took a twist about his own arm with the free end.
"Now, I want you to stand right here until I give three tugs on the rope."
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know what I am going to do, but I'm going to try to get to the twelve-inch turret with this rope."
"You'll have to swim for it, then."
"I expect to have to swim part of the way, but leave that to me. When I give three long tugs on the rope you start working along it."
"But where will we go? The water-tight doors are fastened on the inside; we can't get in. We shall be swept from the deck. I guess I'll stay where I am, and hang on until morning."
"No; you can't do it. You will be washed overboard. Watch the rope. I may go over, too, but you can tell by the feel of the rope, and if you think I'm going over, haul in. I'll yell, too. The wind is this way and you can hear me. Now, don't bother me. I'm going in a minute."
Dan hung to the rail, rope in hand, watching the roll of the ship, which he was obliged to observe not by sight, but by the sense of feeling.
All at once, as the stern rose into the air, he darted forward. He was in water nearly up to his waist, but as the quarter-deck rose the water rushed to the sides of the ship in a raging flood.
Suddenly Dan felt himself being drawn backward. At first he could not understand the meaning of it. Then he realized. Sam was hauling him in.
"Stop it! Stop it!" yelled Davis.
Sam kept on hauling. Losing his foothold on the slippery deck, Dan went down. At the same time the quarter-deck shipped a big wave and Dan was swimming blindly. Through it all he managed to keep hold of the rope with one hand. He was being dragged along the deck so fast that he could not get to his feet, even after the water had receded a little.
Finally, yelling at the top of his voice, Hickey finished his work, grabbed Dan from the deck and slammed him against the rail.
"I got you! I got you! I saved your life, didn't I?"
"Sam—Sam Hickey, you're the biggest fool I ever bumped into in all my life!"
"A fool—a—see here, is that all I get for saving you——"
"What did you haul me back for?"
"Because you yanked on the rope."
"I did nothing of the sort."
"You did."
"I didn't."
"We—we won't argue the question. I—I haven't enough breath left in me to argue. Now, next time, don't you pull on the rope until you hear me yell, or until the rope swings way over to port. I am going to run quartering so that if I get caught by another wave I will be washed toward the twelve-inch turret. Understand?"
"Sure, I understand."
Waiting until the stern rose again, Dan made another dash. This time he had, as he had planned to do the other time, reached a spot opposite the turret before the deck sank under another wave. He was washed right up against the turret when the wave did come.
The instant the wave left him, he took a turn about a big ring-bolt on the turret.
"Sam! Sam!"
A faint "hello" was wafted to him on the gale.
"Come on!"
Dan waited and waited, but no Sam came. He began to grow worried.
"Sam!"
"Yeow!"
"Come on. I'm waiting for you."
A strain on the rope told Davis that his companion had started, and a few minutes later Sam Hickey stood beside him.
"What's the matter, Sam?"
"Nothing, except that I'm wet."
"Why didn't you come when I called you?"
"I was watching the sparks up there on the wireless aerials. Say, it is just like a lot of lightning bugs. Did you ever watch the sparks at night?"
"Yes, but not when I was trying to save my life and another's. I don't believe it was half worth the effort. I am beginning to think that there doesn't much of anything matter, so far as you are concerned. Let's get inside now."
"How are you going to do it?"
"We will climb up under the turret, through the manhole."
"I never thought of that."
Dan unfastened the opening on the under side of the turret projection, and, sending Sam ahead, climbed in after, closing the opening behind them. It was intensely dark in the turret and the room was so small that it was with difficulty that the boys could find their way through.
For a minute or so they were engaged in climbing up to get into the enclosure from where a ladder led down into the lower part of the turret.
"Now, Sam, be very careful that you don't fall. This is a bad place to be fooling around in when it is dark. I wish I could turn on the electric lights here, but I don't know where the button is."
"Shall I light a match?"
"No, sir!"
"Why not?"
"Supposing there should chance to be some powder scattered on the floor, and——"
"Wow! That would be a nice thing, wouldn't it? There'd be an explosion, eh?"
"There might be. Better take the chance of bumping our heads——"
"Say, Dan, where are you going?"
"I am going to follow you. Come here. Give me your hand."
"What for?"
"Get in here. Make yourself as small as possible."
Hickey crawled into the small opening, though he did not know where he was.
"What is this place you're stowing me in?" he demanded.
"It's the ammunition hoist," answered Dan, as he began to pull down on a rope.
The ammunition hoist for the twelve-inch guns is a sort of dumb waiter that is raised and lowered by pulling on a rope attached to its top and bottom.
A few minutes later the guard on duty in the magazine corridor was startled by a creaking and groaning sound. After listening a moment, he traced the sound to the ammunition hoist.
All at once the hoist came down with a bang, spilling Hickey full length on the floor of the corridor. The guard made a grab for the newcomer, and, at the same instant, Sam Hickey wrapped both arms about the legs of the marine who was on guard duty.
That worthy went down on top of Sam. For a minute there was a lively tussle, but ere it had come to an end, the ammunition hoist shot down again and Dan Davis leaped out into the passageway. He gazed in astonishment at the two men on the floor.
"Get up, Sam! What in the world are you trying to do?"
Sam threw the guard off.
"This chocolate candy soldier jumped on me when I came down. Let me at him——"
Davis pulled his companion away.
"You'll have to come with me," announced the guard. "I shall be obliged to arrest you. Your conduct is suspicious."
"Well, I like that!" grumbled Sam. "First you get tossed overboard and then you get arrested because you didn't go drown yourself. I won't be arrested."
"Take us to the master-at-arms; he understands," said Dan.
They were led to the upper deck, where they were suddenly confronted by Captain Farnham.
"What's this, what's this?" he demanded.
The marine guard explained.
"You may release them, guard. Now, lads, explain how you got into the ship? I can see from your appearance that you must have had a hard time."
"We got in through the twelve-inch turret," explained Dan, after having told the captain of their experiences.
"Most remarkable. I have come to the conclusion that there is no use in worrying about you boys. It is evident that there is nothing on land or water that can kill you. But you are shivering, Davis."
"I am a little cold," admitted Dan.
"Go to the chief steward and tell him I order that coffee be made for you. How about you, Hickey? Are you in a chill also?"
"No, sir; my hair keeps me warm, sir. At least that's what the boatswain's mate says."
The captain laughed heartily.
"Run along, both of you, and get warmed up. It will soon be time to turn in. Good night."
"Good night, sir," answered the Battleship Boys, saluting and turning away.
The following days passed uneventfully. The storm abated late the next afternoon, for the ship was running into southern seas where the skies took on a deeper blue, the water a golden hue under the southern sun.
One afternoon a few days later the lookout sang out, in a voice that had a note of gladness in it:
"Land ho!"
"Where away?"
"Three points off the port bow."
Glasses were leveled in the direction indicated, and the jackies on the forecastle, who had heard the cry, lined the rail, scanning the horizon with shaded eyes. But the land was too far away to be seen from where they were standing.
"There it is!" cried Dan, half an hour later, as a thin blue line appeared to rise from the sea off the port bow. "What land is it?"
"Spain, I reckon," answered a shipmate. "Leastwise, it was Spain when I was along here last time."
"Spain, did he say?" questioned Hickey.
"Yes."
For a few moments the Battleship Boys gazed in silence. It was their first glimpse of the shores of that far-away country. After a time the rocky shores grew into plain sight.
"That is Portugal over there," said a boatswain's mate. "We ought to sight Lisbon before dark."
Dan and Sam looked into each other's eyes.
"We are seeing things for sure, aren't we, eh?" grinned Hickey.
"Yes; it is a wonderful experience, well worth all the hardships we have gone through."
"I wonder if they are going to stop?"
"I don't know. Do we make port anywhere along here?" Dan asked of the boatswain's mate.
"I don't know. The captain hasn't taken me into his confidence yet."
"Can you blame him?" came back Dan Davis, quick as a flash.
"Look here, Little Dynamite, don't get fresh," answered the boatswain's mate, with a good-natured laugh. "I'll tell you, though, that it is more than likely that we'll tie up to a tree somewhere along here. We need some repairs after the banging around we've been having for the last two weeks. We'll have a field day when we do, and don't you forget that."
"I don't want that kind of a field day," spoke up Sam. "Field day aboard ship means work, and lots of it."
"Lisbon lies off yonder, in that depression in the shore line that you can make out if your eyes are good, boys," said the boatswain's mate, pointing off the port bow.
"I see it, I see it," cried Sam.
"And I," added Dan. They gazed long and searchingly. "I was in hopes we would run in and anchor there."
"The captain is making for some other place. We are grinding along at a nineteen-knot gait. That ought to bring us up somewhere about to-morrow night."
"Have you any idea where?"
"Yes; I've got an idea, but I guess you had better figure it out for yourself."
After mess that night Dan got out a map and studied it carefully, after having stolen a glance at the standardized compass high up on the after part of the superstructure.
"I believe we are headed for Gibraltar," he said to himself.
"You've guessed it, lad," said the mate, coming up behind him. "I thought you'd get your course figured out. It's better for a man to get in the habit of looking those things up for himself. He doesn't forget them when he gets them that way."
That night the Battleship Boys turned in full of anticipation. They were heading into strange seas. There was hope that they soon would have an opportunity to go ashore and see something of the people and the life that thus far they knew only from the books they had read.
The first thing in the morning, after getting their baths and dressing, the boys ran out on deck. There, looming faintly through the morning mist, the mighty rock of Gibraltar rose from the sea.
"I see it," breathed Dan Davis, in a tone that was almost awe. "That is Gibraltar, Sam."
"Yes, anybody could see it."
"Isn't it wonderful?"
"I'll tell you after I get a closer look at the place," replied the red-headed boy.
"I never thought to see so grand a sight."
"What's that thing on top of it, Dan? They must have a church up there."
"It must be the signal tower. I remember one of the men telling about that. It is fourteen hundred feet above the sea level."
Hickey uttered a low whistle.
"I'd hate to walk in my sleep up there."
"Up there they keep a constant watch on all ships coming in from the sea."
"And do you think they see us?"
"Of course they do, and they know who we are, and where we are bound probably better than we do. I wonder whether we are going through the straits?"
"The Straits of Gibraltar?"
"Yes."
"Of course we are. We are going to all the places down around here, I heard the Old Man and the executive officer talking about it when we were up off Boulogne. We're going all the way around Africa before we head back for America. It is going to be a long cruise."
"I know that, Sam. We are going to be away from home for a full year. Think of that. But when we get back, we are going to have a leave to go to Piedmont and see all the folks."
A bugle call piped all hands to clean ship. They were nearing port and everything must be in perfect condition. There was need of work, for the long storm had left the ship in bad condition.
The early view of the famous rock gave the impression of a barren cliff, but now little patches of emerald green began to grow out of the great gray pile.
"Look at the guns sticking out!" exclaimed Hickey, later in the day, as the ship drew nearer and nearer.
"Wonderful!" breathed Dan.
"I don't see anything so wonderful about it. It looks business-like, that's all," said Sam. "Say, do you know what I'll bet I could do?"
"What?"
"I'll bet that in three shots I could knock the block off the top of that mountain with the seven-inch."
"You mean the lookout station up there?"
"Yes."
Dan surveyed it with critical eyes.
"If you did you would have to show better marksmanship than you have thus far."
"Marksmanship? Why, I haven't fired a gun since I've been in the Navy."
"You have had dotter practice, which is practically the same thing."
"There's the town."
As they neared the southern point they could see the white walls of the city glistening in the sun. Everywhere one looked new sights came into view, and not for one moment did the Battleship Boys cease wondering over what they saw.
A low, dark line attracted Sam's attention, far off to the right of them.
"I guess that must be the Dark Continent," he said with a laugh.
Dan gazed fixedly at the point to starboard indicated by his companion.
"I think you are right. That must be Africa over there. Just think of it! Would you like to be there, Sam?"
"I don't know," admitted Hickey. "Somehow, I always think of snakes when Africa is mentioned."
"There's the harbor," cried Dan, interrupting.
"And I see some ships there, too."
"I believe they are war ships," added Dan. "Yes; look, look, Sam! Look!"
"Where, where? What, what?" demanded Sam, dancing about excitedly, looking first at his companion, then toward the harbor.
"The Flag! The Flag!"
"Oh, is that all?" said Sam in a disappointed tone.
"Isn't that enough? Thousands of miles from home and to come in sight of the Stars and Stripes! Wouldn't that send the blood coursing through your veins?" demanded Dan, with flashing eyes.
"Yes; I guess it would make some folks blood run cold. What ships are those?"
"Let me see; there are three of them."
"I know that—I can count. What I want to know is who they are?"
"I don't know, Sam. Here comes the master-at-arms. I'll ask him."
Dan did so.
"Those are the 'Idaho,' 'Georgia' and 'Wisconsin.' They are to join us here for the rest of our cruise."
"Thank you," answered Dan.
By this time they were approaching the harbor, and all work was suspended for the moment.
"Boom!" roared the "Long Island's" six-pounder. "Boom!" answered the other ships of the fleet. "Boom!" roared a gun from the mountain. The air seemed full of smoke and powder. Bands played, jackies shouted themselves hoarse, flags fluttered down from gaffs, only to go up again on the after gaffs. The American ships were at anchor, the three already in having only just arrived.
That afternoon the Battleship Boys got leave to go ashore. Their good conduct always earned a quick shore leave for them when many others were denied it.
The quaint old semi-Moorish town at the base of the great mountain appealed to the lads and impressed them deeply. Red-coated British soldiers were everywhere about, wearing their jaunty caps tilted to one side, carrying their swagger-sticks airily, and now and then deigning a glance at the Battleship Boys.
"Do you know what those fellows remind me of?" questioned Hickey.
"Not being able to read your mind, I cannot say," answered Dan.
"That cap, at least, reminds me of the organ grinder's monkey that passes the hat for pennies. But they are the real thing, aren't they?"
"The caps?"
"No, the monk—I mean the soldiers."
"Boom!" roared a gun.
There was no answer to it, and Dan, wondering, asked a citizen what the meaning of the shot might be.
"One o'clock, me lad," was the answer.
Sam laughed aloud.
"Do—do they announce the hours here by firing guns?" he questioned.
"They do."
"Then—then I guess I would prefer to sleep at sea. What do you think of that?"
"It certainly is a curious custom," agreed Dan.
The boys wandered about the quaint town, peering into out-of-the-way places, talking with a soldier here and there, when they found one who was willing to unbend sufficiently to answer their questions.
What impressed them most was the tremendous masses of masonry, parapets and guns. In whatever direction the boys glanced their eyes rested on the frowning muzzles of big guns.
"How would you like to have all those guns turned on a ship in which you were?" asked Dan.
"If they all shot straight it would be all day with us. But, Dan, don't you think that rock is a pretty good mark itself?"
"Yes. And if it is all like what it is here at the bottom, I think a shot from a seven or eight-inch would crumble it. I——"
"Look!" cried Sam.
What appeared to be a basket of some sort was rising in the air far above their heads.
"What is it?"
"It looks like some kind of air-ship. But that cannot be possible."
"There's some one in it!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," answered the red-headed boy, now all excitement.
"I know now what it is," cried Dan. "I've read about that—no, I haven't read about it either. A jackie on the 'Long Island' told me about it. That is a metal basket in which the signal men and watchmen go up to the lookout station that you see on top of the mountain."
"You don't say," muttered Sam in amazement. "How does it soar through the air that way?"
"It doesn't. It is on a cable that is pulled up by some sort of power."
"Let's go over and look at the thing," urged Sam.
Dan was willing. He was as curious as was his companion, and even more enthusiastic, for all this was new and full of interest.
It was after making numerous inquiries that they found their way to the landing platform from which the basket started on its way upward. By this time the metal basket had returned. There was room in it for four men. The boys looked it over curiously and enviously.
"How would you like to take a ride in it?" questioned Dan, smiling into the solemn face of his companion.
"I'd give a dollar and a half," answered Sam earnestly. "Let's get in and look the thing over."
"I am afraid strangers are not allowed to do that. Yes, we'll get in. We can imagine we are going up to the top of the mountain, anyway."
Both boys climbed into the basket, gazing up into the air, where the thread-like cable grew smaller and smaller until it was lost to view entirely.
"I wonder how it works?" questioned Sam, turning to the mechanism of the basket.
"Perhaps by electricity. Sh-h-h!"
"What is it?"
"Some one is coming," whispered Dan.
The boys crouched down out of sight in the basket, laughing delightedly as they nudged each other.
"They'll be surprised, if they find us here," said Sam.
"Keep still. He's going away now, whoever he is." Peering over the basket, Davis saw that the man, a soldier, was walking rapidly down to the engine house, just below the landing platform. The man disappeared within.
"Look out! We're moving!" howled Sam.