Halifax was safely reached, nothing more exciting having occurred between that port and New York than a severe thunder storm, and, after the usual inspection by the English authorities, the ship bearing the moving picture boys was once more on her way.
The lifeboat drills were rigorously kept up, and now, as the real voyage had begun, with each day bringing nearer the dreaded submarine peril, orders were given in regard to the display of lights after dark. The passengers were ordered to be in readiness, to keep life preservers at hand, and were told that as soon as the actual danger zone was reached it would be advisable for all to keep their clothing on at night as well as during the day.
"But the destroyers will convoy us, won't they?" asked Charlie Anderson.
"Oh, yes! They'll be on hand to greet us when the time comes," answered Blake. "Uncle Sam'sas well as King George's. But, for all that, a submarine may slip in between them and send a torpedo to welcome us."
"Then's when I'm going to get busy with the small camera," declared Joe.
"A heap of good it'll do you to get some pictures of it, if the ship is blown up," remarked his chum.
"Oh, well, I'm going to take a chance. Every ship that's torpedoed doesn't sink, and we may be one of the lucky ones. And if I should happen to get some views of a destroyer sinking a submarine—why, I'd have something that any camera man in the world would be proud of!"
"That's right!" agreed Blake. "But don't take any chances."
Joe promised to heed this advice, and he was really enthusiastic about his chance of getting a view of an oncoming torpedo. That he might get views of a warship or a destroyer sinking one of the Hun undersea boats was what he dreamed about night and day.
It was the day before they were actually to enter the danger zone—the zone marked off in her arrogance by Germany—that something occurred which made even cautious Blake think that perhaps they were justified in their suspicions of the Frenchman.
The usual lifeboat drills had been held, and thepassengers were standing about in small groups, talking of what was best to be done in case the torpedo or submarine alarm should be given, when Macaroni, who had been down in the cabin, came up and crossed the deck to where Blake and Joe were talking to two young ladies, to whom they had been introduced by the captain.
By one of the many signs in use among moving picture camera men, which take the place of words when they are busy at the films, Macaroni gave the two chums to understand he wanted to speak to them privately and at once. The two partners remained a little longer in conversation, and then, making their excuses, followed their helper to a secluded spot.
"What's up?" demanded Joe. "Have you made some views of a torpedo?"
"Or seen a periscope?" asked Blake.
"Neither one," Charlie answered. "But if you want to see something that will open your eyes come below."
His manner was so earnest and strange, and he seemed so moved by what he had evidently seen, that Blake and Joe, asking no further questions, followed him.
"What is it?" Joe demanded, as they were about to enter their cabin, one occupied by the three of them.
"Look there!" whispered the helper, as he pointed to a mirror on their wall.
Blake and Joe saw something which made them open their eyes. It was the reflection of a strange conference taking place in the stateroom across the passageway from them, a conference of which a view was possible because of open transoms in both staterooms and mirrors so arranged that what took place in the one across the corridor was visible to the boys, yet they remained hidden themselves.
Blake and Joe saw two men with heads close together over a small table in the center of the opposite stateroom. The tilted mirror transferred the view into their own looking-glass. The men appeared to be examining a map, or, at any rate, some paper, and their manner was secretive, alone though they were.
But it was not so much the manner of the men as it was the identity of one that aroused the curiosity and fear of the moving picture boys—curiosity as to what might be the subject of the queer conference, and fear as to the result of it.
For one of the men was Lieutenant Secor, the Frenchman, and the other was a passenger who, though claiming to be a wealthy Hebrew with American citizenship, was, so the boys believed, thoroughly German. He was down on the passenger list as Levi Labenstein, and he did bear someresemblance to a Jew, but his talk had the unmistakable German accent.
Not that there are not German Jews, but their tongue has not the knack of the pure, guttural German of Prussia. And this man's voice had none of the nasal, throaty tones of Yiddish.
"Whew!" whistled Joe, as he and Blake looked into the tell-tale mirror. "That looks bad!"
"Hush!" cautioned Blake. "The transoms are open and he may hear you."
But a look into the reflecting glasses showed that the two men—the Frenchman and the German—had not looked up from their eager poring over the map, or whatever paper was between them.
"How long have they been this way?" asked Blake, in a whisper, of Charlie.
"I don't know," Macaroni answered. "I happened to see them when I came down to get something, and after I'd watched them a while I went to tell you."
"I'm glad you did," went on Blake; "though I don't know what it means—if it means anything."
"It means something, all right," declared Joe, and he, like the others, was careful to keep his voice low-pitched. "It means treason, if I'm any judge!"
"Treason?" repeated Blake.
"Yes; wouldn't you call it that if you saw one ofour army officers having a secret talk with a German enemy?"
"I suppose so," assented Blake. "And yet Lieutenant Secor isn't one of our officers."
"No, but he's been in our camps, and he's been a guest of Uncle Sam. He's been in a position to spy out some of the army secrets, and now we see him talking to this German."
"But this man maynotbe a subject of the Kaiser," said Blake.
"Sure he is!" declared Charlie. "He's no more a real Jew than I am! He's a Teuton! Germany has no love for the Jews, and they don't have any use for the Huns. Take my word for it, fellows, there's something wrong going on here."
"It may be," admitted Blake; "but does it concern us?"
"Of course it does!" declared Joe. "This Frenchman may be betraying some of Uncle Sam's secrets to the enemy—not only our enemy, but the enemy of his own country."
"Yes, I suppose there are traitorous Frenchmen," said Blake slowly, "but they are mighty few."
"But this means something!" declared Macaroni.
And Blake, slow as he was sometimes in forming an opinion, could not but agree with him.
In silence the boys watched the two men at their queer conference. The tilted mirrors—one in eachstateroom—gave a perfect view of what went on between the Frenchman and the German, as the boys preferred to think Labenstein, but the watchers themselves were not observed. This they could make sure of, for several times one or the other of the men across the corridor looked up, and full into the mirror on their own wall, but they gave no indication of observing anything out of the ordinary.
The mirrors were fastened in a tilted position to prevent them from swinging as the ship rolled, and as they did not sway there was an unchanged view to be had.
"I wonder what they're saying," observed Blake.
They could only guess, however, for though the men talked rapidly and eagerly, as evidenced by their gestures, what they said was not audible. Though both transoms were open, no sound came from the room opposite where the boys were gathered. The men spoke too low for that.
"I guess they know it's dangerous to be found out," said Joe.
"But we ought to find out what it's about!" declared Macaroni.
"Yes, I think we ought," assented Blake. "This Frenchman has been in our country, going about from camp to camp according to his own story, and he must have picked up a lot of information."
"And he knows about our pictures, too!"
"Well, I don't imagine what we have taken, so far, will be of any great value to Germany, assuming that Lieutenant Secor is a spy and has told about them," Blake said.
"We've got to find out something about this, though, haven't we?" asked Joe.
"I think we ought to try," agreed his chum. "Perhaps we should tell Captain Merceau. He's a Frenchman, and will know how to deal with Secor."
"Good idea!" exclaimed Joe. "If we could only get him down here to see what we've seen, it would clinch matters. I wonder——"
But Joe ceased talking at a motion from Blake, who silently pointed at the mirror. In that way they saw the reflection of the men in the other cabin. They arose from their seats at the table, and the map or whatever papers they had been looking at, were put away quietly in the Frenchman's pocket.
He and the German, as the boys decided to call Labenstein, spoke in whispers once more, and then shook hands, as if to seal some pact.
Then, as the boys watched, Lieutenant Secor opened the door of the stateroom, which had been locked. He stepped out into the corridor, and was now lost to view.
The next moment, to the surprise of Blake andhis two friends, there came a knock on their own door, and a voice asked:
"Are you within, young gentlemen of the cameras? I am Lieutenant Secor!"
Sudden and unexpected was the knocking, and it found the boys unready to answer it. They had no idea that the conspirators—either or both of them—would come directly from their conference to the room where a watch had been kept on them.
"Do you think he saw us?" asked Joe, in a whisper.
"S'posing he did?" demanded Charlie. "We have the goods on him, all right."
Blake held up a hand to enjoin silence, though the remarks of his friends had been made in the lowest of tones.
The knock was given again, and the voice of the Frenchman asked:
"Are you within, my friends of the camera? I wish to speak with you!"
"One moment!" called Blake, in a tone he triedto make pleasant. Then he motioned to Joe and Charlie to seem to be busy over the midget camera, which was kept ready for instant use. At the same moment Blake threw a black focusing cloth over the mirror, for he thought the Frenchman might notice that it was in a position to reflect whatever took place in the opposite room.
"Act natural—as if you were getting ready to make some pictures," Blake whispered in Joe's ear, and then opened the door.
"Pardon me for disturbing you," began Lieutenant Secor, "but I have just come down from on deck. They are having a special lifeboat drill, and I thought perhaps you might like to get some views of it. Also, I have a favor to ask of you."
"Come in," said Blake, as he opened the door wider. At the same time he noticed that the door of the stateroom across the corridor was shut.
"Just came down from deck, did he?" mused Joe, as he took note of the Frenchman's false statement. "Well, he must have run up and run down again in jig fashion to be able to do that. I wonder what he wants to ask us?"
Joe and Charlie pretended to be adjusting the small camera, and Blake smiled a welcome he did not feel. Black suspicion was in his heart against the Frenchman. An open enemy Blake could understand, but not a spy or a traitor.
"I thought perhaps you might like to get some of the views from on deck," went on Lieutenant Secor, smiling his white-toothed smile. "They are even lowering boats into the water—a realistic drill!"
Blake looked at Joe as much as to ask if it would be advisable to get some views. At the same time Blake made a sign which Joe interpreted to mean:
"Go up on deck and see what's going on—you and Charlie. I'll take care of him down here."
"Come on!" Joe remarked to their helper, as he gathered up the small camera. "We'll take this in."
"I thought you might like it," said the Frenchman. "That's why I hurried down to tell you."
"Now I wonder," thought Blake to himself, as Joe made ready to leave, "why he thinks it worth his while to tell that untruth? What is his game?"
At the same time an uneasy thought came to Joe.
"If we go up and leave Blake alone with this fellow, may not something happen? Perhaps he'll attack Blake!"
But that thought no sooner came than it was dismissed, for, Joe reasoned, what harm could happen to his chum, who was well able to take care of himself? True, the Frenchman might be armed, but so was Blake. Then, too, there could be no object in attacking Blake. He had little of value on his person, and the films and cameras were not inthe stateroom. And there were no films of any value as yet, either.
"Guess I'm doing too much imagining," said Joe to himself. "This fellow may be a plotter and a spy in German pay—and I haven't any doubt but what he is—but I reckon Blake can look after himself. Anyhow, he wants me to leave Secor to him, and I'll do it. But not too long!"
So Joe and Charlie, taking the small camera with them, went up on deck. There they did find an unusual lifeboat drill going on. The danger zone was now so close that Captain Merceau and his officers of the ship were taking no chances. They wanted to be prepared for the worst, and so they had the men passengers practise getting into the boats, which were lowered into the water and rowed a short distance away from the ship.
The women and children, of whom there were a few on board, watched from the decks, taking note of how to get into the boats, and how best to act once they were in their places.
"Going to film this?" asked Charlie of Joe.
"No, I think not," was the answer. "It's interesting, but there have been lots of drills like it. If it were the real thing, now, I'd shoot; but I'm going to save the film on the chance of getting a sub or a torpedo. This is a sort of bluff on the part of you and me, anyhow. Blake wanted to get us out ofthe cabin while he tackled Secor, I reckon. Whathisgame is I don't know."
"I can come pretty near to guessing," said Macaroni, as he stretched his lank legs, which had, in part, earned him the nickname. "That fake lieutenant is planning some game with the German spy, that's his game."
"Maybe," admitted Joe. "But I don't see how we figure in it."
"Perhaps we will after we've gotten some reels of valuable film," suggested Charlie. "Don't crow until you've ground out the last bit of footage."
"No, that's right. Look, that boat's going to spill if I'm any judge!"
Excited shouts and a confusion of orders drew the attention of the boys and many others to a lifeboat where, amidships on the port side, it was being lowered away as part of the drill. There were a number of sailors in it—part of the crew—and, as Joe and Charlie watched, one of the falls became jammed with the result that the stern of the boat was suddenly lowered while the bow was held in place.
As might have been expected, the sudden tilting of the boat at an acute angle threw the occupants all into one end. There were yells and shouts, and then came splashes, as one after another fell into the ocean.
Women and children screamed and men hoarsely called to one another. For a moment it looked as though the safety drill would result in a tragedy, and then shrill laughter from the men who had fallen into the water, as well as cries of merriment from those who still clung to the boat, showed that, if not intended as a joke, the happening had been turned into one.
The sailors were all good swimmers, the day was sunny and the water warm, and in a short time another boat had been rowed to the scene of the upset, and those who went overboard were picked up, still laughing.
"I might have taken that if I had known they were going to pull a stunt like that," said Joe, a bit regretfully. "However, I guess we'll get all the excitement we want when we get to the war front."
"I believe you!" exclaimed Charlie. "There's our German spy," he added, pointing to the dark-complexioned and bearded man who had been seen, through the mirrors' reflections, talking to the Frenchman. He had evidently hurried up on deck to ascertain the cause of the confusion, for he was without collar or tie.
The boat was righted, the wet sailors went laughing below to change into dry garments, and the passengers resumed their usual occupations which, in the main, consisted of nervously watching the heaving waves for a sight of a periscope, or a wake of bubbles that might tell of an on-speeding torpedo.
Mr. Labenstein, to credit him with the name on the passenger list, gave a look around, and, seeing that there was no danger, at once went below again.
"Wonder how Blake's making out?" asked Charlie of Joe, as they walked the deck. "Do you think we'd better go down?"
"Not until we get some word from him. Hello! Here he is now!" and Joe pointed to their friend coming toward them.
"Well?" asked Joe significantly.
"Nothing much," answered Blake. "He was as nice and affable as he always is. Just talked about the war in general terms. Said the Allies and Uncle Sam were sure to win."
"Did he want anything?" asked Charlie. "He said he was going to ask a favor, you know."
"Well, he hinted for information as to what we were going to do on the other side, but I didn't give him any satisfaction. Then he wanted to know whether we would consider an offer from the French Government."
"What'd you say to that?"
"I didn't give him a direct answer. Said I'd think about it. I thought it best to string him along. No telling what may be behind it all."
"You're right," agreed Joe. "Lieutenant Secorwill bear watching. Did he have any idea we were observing him?"
"I think not. If he did, he didn't let on. But I thought sure, when he came across the corridor and knocked, that he'd discovered us."
"So did I, and I was all ready to bluff him out. But we'll have to be on the watch, and especially on the other side."
"What do you mean?" asked Blake.
"Well, I have an idea he's after our films, the same as he was before, either to spoil them or get them for some purpose of his own. Just now we aren't taking any, and he hasn't any desire, I suppose, to get possession of the unexposed reels. But when we begin to make pictures of our boys in the trenches, and perhaps of some engagements, we'll have to see that the reels are well guarded."
"We will," agreed Blake. "What was going on up here? We heard a racket, and Labenstein rushed up half dressed."
"Lifeboat spilled—no harm done," explained Charlie. "Well, I might as well take this camera below if we're not going to use it."
"Come on, Blake," urged Joe. "They're going to have gun drill. Let's watch."
The vessel carried four quick-firing guns for use against submarines, one each in the bow and stern, and one on either beam. The gunners were fromUncle Sam's navy and were expert marksmen, as had been evidenced in practice.
"Are we in the danger zone yet?" asked one of the two young women whose acquaintance Blake and Joe had made through the courtesy of Captain Merceau.
"Oh, yes," Blake answered. "We have been for some time."
"But I thought when we got there we would be protected by warships or torpedo-boat destroyers," said Miss Hanson.
"We're supposed to be," replied Joe. "I've been looking for a sight of one. They may be along any minute. Look, there comes a messenger from the wireless room. He's going to the bridge where the captain is. Maybe that's word from a destroyer now."
Interestedly they watched the messenger make his way to the bridge with a slip of paper in his hand. And then, before he could reach it, there came a hail from the lookout in the crow's nest high above the deck.
He called in French, but Joe and Blake knew what he said. It was:
"Periscope ahoy! Two points off on the port bow! Periscope ahoy!"
Decks that, a moment, before, had exhibited scenes of quietness, though there was a nervous tenseness on all sides, at once assumed feverish activity. Officers on duty, hearing the cry of the lookout, called to him to repeat his message, which he did, with the added information that the submarine, as evidenced by the appearance of the periscope cutting the water, was approaching nearer, and with great swiftness.
"Here she comes, Blake!" cried Joe, as the two boys stood together at the spot from which they had been watching the wireless messenger a moment before. "Here she comes! Now for a chance at a picture!"
"You're not going below, are you?" cried Blake.
"Why not?" asked Joe, pausing on his way to the companionway.
"Why, we may be blown up at any moment! We may be hit by a torpedo! I don't see why theyhaven't loosed one at us before this, as their periscope is in sight. You shouldn't go below now! Stay on deck, where you'll have a chance to get in the boat you're assigned to!"
"I've got to go below to get the small camera," answered Joe. "I ought to have kept it on deck. I'm going to, after this, to have it ready."
"But, Joe, the torpedo may be on its way now—under water!"
"That's just what I want to get a picture of! I guess if we're going to be blown up, being below deck or on deck doesn't make much difference. I want to get that picture!"
And, seeing that his chum was very much in earnest, Blake, not to let Joe do it alone, went below with him to get the camera. But on the way they met Charlie coming up with it.
"She's all loaded, boys, ready for action!" cried the lanky Macaroni. "I started down for it as soon as I heard the lookout yell! I didn't know what he was jabbering about, seeing I don't understand much French, but I guessed it was a submarine. Am I right?"
"Yes!" shouted Joe. "Good work, Mac! Now for a picture!"
And while Joe and his two friends were thus making ready, in the face of imminent disaster, to get pictures of the torpedo that might be on its wayto sink the ship, many other matters were being undertaken.
Passengers were being called to take the places previously assigned to them in the lifeboats. Captain Merceau and his officers, after a hasty consultation, were gathered on the bridge, looking for the first sight of the submarine, or, what was more vital, for the ripples that would disclose the presence of the torpedo.
But perhaps the most eager of all, and certainly among the most active, were the members of the gun crews. On both sides of the vessel, and at bow and stern, the call to quarters had been answered promptly, and with strained but eager eyes the young men, under their lieutenants, were watching for the first fair sight of something at which to loose the missiles of the quick-firing guns.
"Give it to her, lads! Give it to her! All you can pump in!" yelled the commander of the squad on the port side, for it was off that bow that the lookout had sighted the periscope.
And while the hurried preparations went on for getting the passengers into the lifeboats, at the falls of which the members of the crew stood ready to lower away, there came from the port gun a rattle and barking of fire.
The periscope had disappeared for a moment after the lookout had sighted it, but a slight disturbance in the water, a ripple that was different from the line of foam caused by the breaking waves, showed where it had been.
And by the time Joe and Blake, with the help of Charlie, had set up their small camera, the tell-tale indicator of an undersea boat was again in view, coming straight for the steamer.
"There she is!" cried Blake.
"I see her!" answered Joe, as he focussed the lens of the machine on the object "I'll get her as soon as she breaks!"
The mewing picture boys, as well as Charlie, had forgotten all about the need of taking their places at the stations assigned to them, to be in readiness to get into a boat. They were sharply reminded of this by one of the junior officers.
"Take your places! Take your places!" he cried.
"Not yet!" answered Joe. "We want to get a shot at her first!"
"But, young gentlemen, you must not shoot with that. It will be ineffectual! Let the gunners do their work, I beg of you. Take your places at the boats!"
"That's all right!" exclaimed Blake "We're only going to shoot some moving pictures."
"Ah, what brave rashness!" murmured the French officer, as he hurried away.
Blake and Joe, with Charlie to steady the machine, for the steamer was now zigzagging at high speed in an effort to escape the expected torpedo, were taking pictures of the approach of the submarine. The underwater craft was still coming on, her periscope in the midst of a hail of fire from the steamer's guns. For, now that the vessel was making turns, it was possible for two gun crews, alternately, to fire at the German boat.
"There goes the periscope!" yelled Charlie, as a burst of shots, concentrated on the brass tube, seemed to dispose of it.
But he had spoken too soon. The submarine had merely drawn the periscope within herself, it being of the telescope variety, and the next moment, with a movement of the water as if some monster leviathan were breaking from the ocean depths, the steel-plated and rivet-studded back of the submarine rose, glistening in the sun and in full view of those on deck, not two hundred yards away.
"There she blows!" cried Charlie, as an old salt might announce the presence of a whale. "There she blows! Film her, boys!"
And Blake and Joe were doing just that.
Meanwhile even wilder excitement, if possible, prevailed on deck. There was a rush for the boats that nearly overwhelmed the crews stationed to lower them from the sides, and the officers had all they could do to preserve order.
"The torpedo! The torpedo at the stern!" cried the lookout, who, notwithstanding his position of almost certain death should the ship be struck, had not deserted his elevated post. "They have loosed a torpedo at the stern!"
Blake and Joe, who were well aft, looked for a moment away from the submarine, and saw a line of bubbles approaching the stern and a ripple that indicated the presence of that dread engine of war—an air-driven torpedo.
And as if the ship herself knew what doom awaited her should the torpedo so much as touch her, she increased her speed, and to such good purpose that the mass of gun-cotton, contained in the steel cylinder that had been launched from the submarine, passed under the stern. But only a few feet from the rudder did it pass. By such a little margin was the ship saved.
And then, having a broader mark at which to aim, the gunners sent a perfect hail of lead and shells at the underwater boat, and with such effect that some hits were made. Whether or not they were vital ones it was impossible to learn, for there was a sudden motion to the submarine, which had been quietly resting on the surface for a moment, and then she slipped beneath the waves again.
"Driven off!" cried Blake, as he and Joe got the final pictures of this drama—a drama that hadcome so near being a tragedy. "They've beaten her off!"
"But we're not safe yet!" cried Charlie. "She may shoot another torpedo at us from under water—she can do that, all right! Look out, boys!"
There was need of this, yet it was impossible to do more toward saving one's life than to take to the boats. And even that, under the inhuman and ruthless system of the Huns, was no guarantee that one would be saved. Lifeboats had, more than once, been shelled by Germans.
The appearance of the submarine had added to the panic caused by the sight of the periscope, and there was a rush for the boats that took all the power and authority of the officers to manage it.
There was a period of anxious waiting, but either the submarine had no other torpedoes, or, if she did fire any, they went wide, or, again, the gunfire from the vessel may have disabled her entirely. She did not again show herself above the surface. Even the periscope was not observed.
Having nothing to picture, Blake and Joe turned away from the camera for a moment. Some of the lifeboats had already been filled with their loads when Charlie, pointing to something afar off, cried:
"Here comes another boat!"
On the horizon a dense cloud of black smoke showed.
For a moment there was more terror and excitement aboard theJeanne, if it were possible, after it became certain that another craft, the nature of which none knew, was headed toward the French steamer. Then an officer gifted with sound common-sense, cried out in English, so that the majority could understand:
"It is a destroyer! It is a destroyer belonging to the Stars and Stripes coming to our rescue. Three cheers!"
Nobody gave the three cheers, but it heartened every one to hear them called for, and the real meaning of the smoke was borne to all.
"Of course it can't be a submarine!" exclaimed Blake. "They don't send out any smoke, and there aren't any other German boats at sea. It's a destroyer!"
"One of ours, do you think?" asked Charlie.
"Perhaps. Uncle Sam has a lot of 'em over here to act as convoys. Probably this is our escort coming up a little late to the ball," said Joe.
"But we did very well by ourselves," observed Blake. "It was a narrow squeak, though."
And indeed it was a narrow escape. TheJeannehad, unaided, driven off the undersea boat, and perhaps had damaged her by the rain of shot and shell poured at her steel sides. They could not feel sure of this, though, for the approach of the destroyer was probably known to the submarine, for they have underwater telephones which tell them, by means of the throbbing of the screws and propellers in the water, just about how far away another ship is, and what speed she is making, as well as the direction from which she is coming.
Whether the submarine had expended her last torpedo, or whether having missed what she intended for a vital shot she deemed there was not time to launch another and had sunk out of sight, or whether she were disabled, were questions perhaps never to be answered.
At any rate, the approach of the destroyer, which came on with amazing speed, served to make theJeannecomparatively safe. The lifeboats were emptied of their passengers, and once more there was a feeling of comparative safety as the passengers again thronged the decks.
On came the destroyer. She proved to be one of Uncle Sam's boats, and the joy with which she was greeted was vociferous and perhaps a little hysterical. She had learned by wireless of the appearance of the French craft in the danger zone, and had come to fulfill her mission. She had been delayed by a slight accident, or she would have been on hand when the submarine first approached.
The wireless message that had come just as the German craft appeared had been from the destroyer, to bid those aboard theJeannehave no fear, for help was on the way. And soon after the grim and swift craft from the United States had begun to slide along beside theJeannetwo more destroyers, one of them British, made their appearance, coming up with the speed of ocean greyhounds.
There was great rejoicing among the passengers, and much credit was given the lookout for his promptness in reporting a sight of the submarine. Formal thanks were extended to the gun crews for their efficient work, without which the undersea boat might have accomplished her purpose. Nor were the boiler room and engineer forces forgotten, for it was because of the sudden burst of speed on the part of theJeannethat she escaped that one torpedo at least.
"Now we'll be all right," Charlie said, as hehelped his friends make a few pictures of the approach and the convoying of the destroyers to add to the views they had of the submarine and her defeat—temporary defeat it might prove, but, none the less, a defeat.
"Well, hardly all right," remarked Blake, as the camera was dismounted. "We're still in the danger zone, and the Huns won't let slip any chance to do us harm. But I guess we have more of a chance for our white alley than we had before."
Though the French ship was now protected by the three convoying vessels, the crews of which kept a sharp watch on all sides for the presence of more submarines, there was still plenty of danger, and this was felt by all.
At any moment a submarine, approaching below the surface with only her periscope showing—and this made a mark exceedingly hard to see and hit—might launch a torpedo, not only at the merchant-man but at one of the destroyers.
"It's like sleeping over a case of dynamite," observed Joe, as he and his chums went below. "I'd rather be on the war front. You can at least see and hear shells coming."
"That's right," agreed Blake. "Well, if nothing happens, we'll soon be there now."
"Ifis a big word these days," observed Charlie.
"Now that we're comparatively safe for the moment, I want to ask you fellows something," said Blake, after a pause.
"Ask ahead," returned Joe. "If you want to know whether I was scared, I'll say I was, but I was too busy getting pictures to notice it. If it is something else——"
"It is," interrupted Blake, and his manner was grave. "Come below and I'll tell you. I don't want any one else to hear."
Wondering somewhat at their friend's manner, Joe and Charlie went to their stateroom, and there Blake closed the door and took the dark cloth down from the mirror. A look into it showed that the transom of the room opposite—the cabin of Levi Labenstein—had been closed.
"So we can't tell whether he's in there or not," said Blake.
"Did you want to talk about him?" asked Joe.
"Yes, him and the lieutenant. Did you fellows happen to notice what they were doing when the submarine was attacking us?"
"Not especially," answered Joe. "I did see Lieutenant Secor looking at us as we worked the camera, but I didn't pay much attention to him."
"It wasn't him so much as it was the German," went on Blake.
"In what way?"
"Did you see where he was standing when the submarine came out of the water?"
Neither Joe nor Charlie had done so, or, if they had, they did not recall the matter when Blake questioned them. So that young man resumed:
"Well, I'll tell you what I saw: Labenstein was leaning over the rail on the side where the submarine showed, and he was holding a big white cloth over the side."
"A big white cloth?" cried Joe.
"That's what it was," went on Blake. "It looked to me like a signal."
"Do you mean a signal of surrender?" asked Charlie. "A white flag? He wouldn't have any right to display that, anyhow. It would have to come from Captain Merceau."
"Maybe he meant that he'd surrender personally," suggested Joe, "and didn't want his fellow-murderers to hurt him."
"I don't know what his object was," went on Blake, "but I saw him take from his pocket a big white cloth and hold it over the side. It could easily have been seen from the submarine, and must have been, for he displayed it just before the underwater boat came up."
"A white cloth," mused Joe. "From his pocket. Was it his handkerchief, Blake?"
"He wouldn't have one as large as that, even ifhe suffered from hay fever. I think it was a signal."
"A signal for what?" Charlie again asked.
"To tell the submarine some piece of news, of course—perhaps the port of sailing, something of the nature of our cargo, or perhaps to tell just where to send the torpedo. I understand we are carrying some munitions, and it may be that this German spy directed the commander of the submarine where to aim the torpedo so as to explode them."
"But he'd be signaling for his own death warrant!" cried Joe.
"Not necessarily," answered Blake. "He may have had some understanding with the submarine that he was to be saved first. Perhaps he was going to jump overboard before the torpedo was fired and was to be picked up. Anyhow, I saw him draping a white cloth over the side, and I'm sure it was a signal."
"Well, I guess you're right," said Joe. "The next question is, what's to be done? This fellow is a spy and a traitor, and we ought to expose him."
"Yes," agreed Blake. "But we'd better have a little more evidence than just my word. You fellows didn't see what I saw, that's plain, and perhaps no one else did. So it would only make a big fuss and not result in anything if I told the captain."
"Then what are you going to do?" asked Charlie.
"Just keep watch," Blake answered.
"What about Lieutenant Secor?" asked Joe.
"Well, I didn't see him do anything," admitted Blake. "Though I have my suspicions of him also. He and Labenstein weren't talking so earnestly together for nothing. We'll watch that Frenchman, too."
"And if he tries any more games in spoiling films I'll have my say!" threatened Macaroni.
The boys talked the situation over at some length as they put away the films they had taken of the submarine attack, and agreed that "watchful waiting" was the best policy to adopt. As Blake had said, little could be gained by denouncing Labenstein with only the word of one witness to rely on.
"If all three of us catch him at his traitorous work, then we'll denounce him," suggested Blake.
"Yes, and the Frenchman, too!" added Charlie, in a louder voice, so that Blake raised a cautioning hand.
At that moment came a knock on their door, and a voice said:
"I am Mr. Labenstein!"
Almost like conspirators themselves, the boys looked at one another as the voice and knock sounded together. Blake was the first to recover himself.
"Come in!" he called, in as welcoming a tone as he could muster under the circumstances. Then as the knob of the door was ineffectually tried, he added:
"Oh, I forgot it was locked! Wait a moment!"
A moment later he had swung the door open, and the man who, the boys believed, was a German spy confronted them, smiling.
"You are locked in as if you feared another submarine," he said. "It is not the best way to do. You should be on deck!"
"But not on deck as you were, with a flag to signal to the Huns," thought Joe; and he wished he dared make the accusation.
Blake motioned to the caller to seat himself on a stool.
"I came to see if I might borrow something," began the caller. "I find that mine is out of order for some reason," and he held out a small, but powerful, electric flash lamp, of the sort sold for the use of soldiers. "Have you, by any chance, one that you could spare me?" asked Mr. Labenstein.
"I do not want it, if it is the only one you have, but they are a great convenience in one's berth, for the lights must be kept turned off, now that we are in the danger zone made by those terrible Germans. Ah, how I hate them!" and his anger seemed very real and earnest.
"Did you say you wanted to borrow a pocket electric flash lamp?" asked Blake, wishing to make the caller repeat his request. As he asked this question Blake looked at his chums, as though to ask them to take particular note of the reply.
"I should like to, yes, if you have one to spare. There are three of you, and, I presume, like most travelers, you each have one. I am alone in a single stateroom, and I may have need of a light. I will return it to you at the end of the voyage, or buy it of you at a good price. You see, I have a little Jew in me. I will make a bargain with you. And I will pay you well, something a Jew proverbially does not like to do. But I realize the value of what I want, and that the market is not well supplied, so you may take advantage of my situation.My battery is either worn out or the light is broken. It will not flash."
He shoved down the little sliding catch, but there was no glow in the tiny tungsten bulb.
"You have me at your mercy if you wish to sell me a lamp," he went on, with a smile and a shrug of his shoulders, not unlike that of Lieutenant Secor.
"Hasn't your friend a spare light?" asked Joe quickly.
"My friend?" repeated the German, as though surprised. "You mean——?"
"I mean Lieutenant Secor."
"Oh, him!" and again came the deprecatory shrug of the shoulders. "He is an acquaintance, not a friend. Besides, he has but one lamp, and he needs that. So, also, will you need yours. But as there are three of you together, I thought perhaps——"
"We each have a light," said Blake, interrupting the rather rapid talk of Labenstein. "In fact, I have two, and I'll let you take one."
"That is very kind of you. Ah, it is like mine!"
The visitor was watching Blake eagerly as he brought forth one of the flat, three-cell nickel-plated holders of tiny batteries, with the white-backed and tungsten-filamented incandescent light set in a depressed socket.
"Yes, this is the best type," Blake said. "You may have this."
"And the price?" asked Labenstein, as his hand quickly went into his pocket.
"Is nothing," answered Blake. "It is a gift."
"Ah, but, my dear sir, that is too much! I could not think of taking it without pay!" insisted Mr. Labenstein, as he flashed on the light and then slipped the switch back in place again. "I protest that I must pay you."
"Please don't insist on paying," begged Blake, "for I shall only have to refuse to take any money. Please consider the light a gift. I have a spare one."
"You are very kind, I'm sure," said the other, bowing with some exaggeration, it seemed to the boys. "I appreciate it, I assure you, and I shall look for a chance to repay the favor."
"That's all right," said Blake, and he tried to make his voice sound hearty. "You are welcome to the light."
"A thousand thanks," murmured Mr. Labenstein, as he bowed himself out.
And then, when the door had closed on him and they had taken the precaution of closing their transom, Joe burst out in a cautious whisper with:
"What in the world did you let him take it for, Blake Stewart? Don't you see what his game is?"
"Yes," was Blake's quiet answer; "I think I do."
"Well, then——"
"What is his game?" asked Charlie.
"I presume he wants to use the flash lamp to give a signal at night to some German submarine," said Blake quietly—very quietly, under the circumstances, it might seem.
"And you let him take a light for that?" cried Joe.
"Wait a bit!" advised Blake, and he smiled at his chum. "Do you know anything about these flashlights, Joe?"
"A little—yes. I know a powerful one, like that you gave Labenstein, can be seen a long way on a dark night."
"Well, then maybe you know something else about them, or you may have forgotten it. Like the proverb which says 'blessings brighten as they vanish,' so the light of these lamps sometimes glows very strong just before the battery goes on the blink and douses the glim."
Joe looked at his chum for a moment, uncomprehendingly, and then a smile came over his face.
"Do you mean you gave him a light with a battery in it that was almost played out?" he asked.
"Exactly," answered Blake, with another smile. "This is a light I have had for some time. I noticed, only last night, that it was brighter than usual. Just as a fountain pen—at least, the old-fashioned kind—used to flow more freely when there were only a few drops of ink left, so this battery seems to be strongest just before it gives out altogether.
"I suspected this was going to happen, but I tested the battery with a galvanometer to-day and I found out it has about ten flashes left. After that the light will be dead."
"Is that why you gave it to him?" asked Charlie.
"The very reason. As soon as he asked for a light it occurred to me that he wanted to use it—or might use it—to give a signal at night to some watching submarine commander waiting for a chance to torpedo us. I thought if I let him do it with this failing light he might do the Huns more damage than he could us."
"How?" asked Joe.
"By not being able to give the proper signals. He'll need to flash a light for some little time to make sure to attract the attention of the submarine, won't he?"
"Probably," agreed Joe.
"Well, then, if, while he's in the midst of signaling, his light goes out, the submarine won't know what to make of it, and will come up closer to find out what's wrong. Then our own guns, or those ofthe destroyers, can bang away and catch the Germans napping."
"Say, that's great!" cried Charlie, as soon as he understood the plan Blake had so quickly evolved.
"If it works," conceded Joe. "But how are we going to know when that German spy signals the submarine and fails to convey his full meaning, Blake?"
"We'll have to watch him, of course. Catch him in the act, as it were. The defective lamp will help."
"So it will!" exclaimed Joe. "Blake, I take back all I thought of you. I imagined you were making a mistake to let that lamp go out of your possession; but now I see your game. It's a good one! But we've got to be on the watch for this spy!"
"Oh, yes," agreed his chum. "And not only him but the Frenchman as well. I didn't believe it possible that Secor could be in with this German, but perhaps he is, and maybe he'll betray his own countrymen. Either one may give the signal, but if they do we'll be ready for them. No more moving pictures for us, boys, until we get to the war front. We've got to be on this other job!"
"But hadn't we better tell Captain Merceau?" asked Charlie.
"Yes, I think so," assented Blake. "We'll tell him what we think, and what we have done."
But they did not get a chance that day, for there was a submarine scare toward evening—a lookout thinking he saw a periscope—and the consequent confusion made it impossible to have a talk with the commander. The boys did not want to report to any subordinate officer, and so concluded to wait until the next day.
"But we'll keep watch to-night on our friend across the corridor," Blake said. "And on Lieutenant Secor as well. His stateroom is next to Labenstein's, and we can tell when either of them goes out after dark—that is, if we keep watch."
"And we'll keep it, all right!" declared Joe "Now that we know something about what to look out for, we'll do it!"
And so, as evening came on and the lights of the ship were darkened and as she sped along in company with her convoy, the three boys prepared to divide the night into watches, that they might be on guard against what they regarded as an attempt at black treachery.
For somewhere under or on that waste of waters they believed a deadly submarine was lurking, awaiting the favorable moment to send a torpedo at the ship.
Charlie Anderson, who had taken the earliest watch, roused Blake at the appointed time, and reported:
"All quiet so far."
"Then you haven't seen anything of our friends across the hall?"
"Not a thing. Just as we arranged, I've had my eye at the hole, but their doors have both been closed. Maybe you'll have better luck."
"I don't think it will be good luck at all to see one of them sneak out to flash a signal to a waiting submarine, or one that may be following us all the while, waiting for a chance to strike. But I will call it exceedingly good luck if we can stop it," said Blake.
"Go to it, old top!" exclaimed Macaroni, dropping into what he thought the latest English slang. "I'm going to turn in."
The lanky helper of the moving picture boys had spent the hours of his watch with his eye close to a small hole that had been bored in the door of the boys' stateroom. The hole gave a view of the staterooms of Lieutenant Secor and Mr. Labenstein, which adjoined. And, as Charles had said, he had not observed either man leave his apartment.
If what the boys had only guessed at were true—that one or both of the men contemplated giving a signal to the enemy by means of the flashlight—the time for it had not yet come.
"Well, I'll try my hand," Blake said. "You turn in, Mac, and if I need any help I'll call you. If I don't see anything up to about one o'clock I'll let Joe do his trick. Good-night and pleasant dreams."
Charlie did not answer. He was already in his bunk and asleep, for he was tired, and the last half hour of his watch he had kept himself awake with difficulty.
Then Blake began his turn of duty. He took a position at the door where he could look out through the hole into the dimly lighted corridor. He had a view of the doors of the staterooms of the two men who were under suspicion, and as soon as either or both of them came out he intended to follow and see what was done.
For an hour nothing happened, and Blake was beginning to feel a bit sleepy, in spite of the factthat he had rested during the early part of the evening, when he was startled by a slight sound. It was like the creaking of a rusty hinge, and at first he thought it but one of the many sounds always more or less audible on a moving ship.
Then, as he tuned his ears more acutely, he knew that it was the squeaking of a hinge he had heard, and he felt sure it meant the opening of a door near by.
Through the hole he looked at the door behind which was Levi Labenstein, whether sleeping or preparing for some act which would put the ship in peril and endanger the lives of all the passengers, could only be guessed.
Then, as Blake watched, he saw the door open and the German come out. Labenstein looked around with furtive glances, and they rested for some little time on the door behind which Blake was watching. Then, as if satisfied that all was quiet, the man stole silently along, the corridor.
"Something doing," thought Blake. "Something doing, all right. He has something in his hand—probably my flashlight. Much good may it do him!"
As Labenstein passed the stateroom where Lieutenant Secor was quartered, that door opened softly, but not until the German was beyond it. And then Blake saw the Frenchman peer out as thoughto make sure his fellow-conspirator was fairly on his way. After that the lieutenant himself emerged and softly followed the German.
"Both of 'em at it," mused Blake. "I'd better rouse Joe and let him keep track of one, in case they should separate."
A touch on Joe Duncan's shoulder served to arouse him, though he was in a deep sleep. He sat up, demanding:
"What is it? Are we torpedoed?"
"No, but we may be," was Blake's low answer. "Keep quiet and follow me. Secor and Labenstein have both gone up on deck, I think. We'd better follow."
"Shall we tell Charlie?" asked Joe, as he slid from his berth. Neither he nor his chums had taken off their clothes.
"Yes, I guess we'd better get him up," Blake answered. "If you and I have to watch these two fellows, we may need some one to send for help in case anything happens. Come on, Macaroni," he added, leaning over their helper and whispering in his ear. "Wake up!"
Charles was up in an instant, a bit confused at first, as one often is when emerging from a heavy sleep, but he had his faculties with him almost at once, and was ready for action.
"What is it?" he asked, in a whisper.
In like low tones Blake told him, and then the three boys, after making sure by a cautious observation that neither of the suspected men was in sight, went out into the corridor and to the deck.
It was quite dark, for all unnecessary lights were dimmed, but there was a new moon, and the stars were bright, so that objects were fairly clear. On either side could be dimly observed the black shapes of the convoying destroyers.
"Where are they?" asked Joe, in a whisper. "The traitors!"
"I don't know—we'll have to look," was Blake's answer. They looked along the deck, but saw no one, and were about to turn to the other end of the craft when a figure stepped out from the shadow of a boat and sharply challenged them.
"Who are you—what do you want?" was asked.
It was one of the ship's crew assigned to night-watch. Blake knew him slightly, having, at the man's request one day, showed him something of the workings of a moving picture camera.
"We came up looking for two gentlemen who have the staterooms opposite ours," Blake answered, resolving to "take a chance" in the matter. "Lieutenant Secor and Mr. Labenstein," he added. "Have you seen them?"
"Yes; they came up to get a bit of air, they said," answered the sailor. "I saw them a little while ago.You will find them up near the bow. Do not show a light, whatever you do, and light no matches. If you wish to smoke you must go below."
"Thanks, we don't smoke," Joe answered, with a low laugh. "But we'll be careful about lights."
"All right," answered the sailor. "We have to look out for submarines, you know," he added. "This is the worst part of the danger zone."
The boys moved forward like silent shadows, peering here and there for a sight of the two figures who had come up a little while before them, with evil intentions in their hearts they had no doubt. Even now there might be flashing across the dark sea, from some hidden vantage point on the ship, a light signal that would mean the launching of the deadly torpedo.
"There's no doubt, now, but the Frenchman is a traitor," whispered Joe to Blake. "I have been positive about that German being a spy ever since I've seen him, but I did have some doubts regarding Secor. I haven't any now."
"It does look bad," admitted Blake.
"I wish I'd smashed him with my auto, instead of waiting for him to smash me," remarked Charlie. "He's a snake, that's what he is!"
"Hush!" cautioned Blake. "They may be around here—any place—and hear you. I wish we could see them."
They moved along silently, looking on every side for a sight of the two conspirators, but there were so many shadows, and so many places where the men might lurk, that it was difficult to place them. The sailor, evidently, had had no suspicions, thinking that Blake and his chums had merely come up to be with the two men.
"What are you going to do when you do see them?" asked Joe of his chum.
"I don't know," was the whispered answer. "First, we've got to see them, then we can tell what to do. But where in the world are they?"
Somewhat at a loss what to do, the boys paused in the shadow of a deckhouse. They were about to emerge from its dim protection when Charlie plucked at Blake's sleeve.
"Well?" asked the moving picture boy, in a low voice. "What is it?"
"Look right straight into the bow, as far as you can see," directed Macaroni. "Notice those two moving shadows?"
"Yes," answered Blake.
"I think that's our men," went on Charlie.
"Yes, there they are," added Joe.
It was evident, after a moment's glance, that the two men who had so silently stolen from their rooms were together in the bow of the steamer, or as far up in the bow as they could get. The deckwas open at this point, and, leaning over the side, it would be easy to flash a signal on either beam. The lookout on the bridge was probably too much occupied in sweeping the sea ahead and to either side of the ship to direct his attention to the vessel itself.
"Come on," whispered Blake to the other two. "We want to hear what they are saying if we can, and see what they're doing."
Silently the boys stole forward until they could make out the dim figures more clearly. There was no doubt that they were those of Secor and Labenstein. And then, as the boys paused, fearing to get so close as to court discovery, they saw a little light flash.
Three times up and down on the port side of the bows went a little flash of light, and then it suddenly went out.
"My electric light," whispered Blake in Joe's ear.
"But I thought you said it would burn out!"
"I hope it has. I think——"
From one of the figures in the bow came a guttural exclamation:
"The infernal light has gone out!"
"So?" came from the other.
"Yes. It must be broken. Let me have yours, Herr Lieutenant. I have not given the signal in completeness, and——"
"I left my light in the stateroom. I'll go and——"
But the lieutenant never finished that sentence. Across the dark and silent ocean came a dull report—an explosion that seemed to make theJeannetremble. And then the sky and the water was lighted by the flashing beams of powerful lights.
"What was that?" gasped Joe, while from the crouching figures in the bow came exclamations of dismay. "Are we torpedoed?"
"I fancy not," answered Blake. "Sounded more like one of the destroyers made a hit herself. I think they set off a depth charge against a submarine. We'll soon know! Look at the lights now!"
The sea was agleam with brilliant radiance.