CHAPTER IVPROGRESS IN JEOPARDYImmediately after the return of the commission to Washington, a meeting was held in the Bureau of Engineering, at which those results of the mission to England which had to do with engineering problems were reported.Admiral Bishop, Chief of the Bureau, presided. He was an elderly officer of robust build, with a hearty red face and white side-whiskers. At his right hand sat Commander Rich, head of the Radio Division of the Bureau, a thin-faced man with an aquiline nose and dark mobile eyes; his face bespoke an alert mind and quick perception. He had enrolled in the navy as a radio electrician many years before. By his ability he had risen through the various grades to warrant officer, and had been one of those selected from this status for the course at the Naval Academy. In this way he had risen to his present rank of commander. Heads of other divisions of the Bureau also sat at the large table near the center of the room. The three or four officers who had been sent abroad on engineering problems were present with their reports. Lieutenant Brown, although attached to the office of the Director of Naval Communications, and therefore belonging to the Bureau of Operations, was present, for among those who had been abroad he was the senior officer concerned with communications. Various other officers, whose duties dealt with the diverse branches of engineering, sat in chairs around the walls of the room. Among these was Lieutenant-Commander Elkins whom Evans had sized up as the most intelligent and open-minded of all the officers in the Radio Division of the Bureau. His technical training in radio engineering was less than that of some of the others, but perhaps by just so much was he free from prejudice in favor of home-made apparatus.Before the meeting Evans had sought Elkins and explained the results of his investigation of radio methods in England. The British experts had presented convincing reasons for the universal adoption of some of their best engineering developments. One improvement in particular, a new type of vacuum-tube transmitter which they had recently perfected, far surpassed anything that had yet been seen, and by its efficiency in eliminating interference it opened such extraordinary possibilities in the scope of fleet communications that without it the navy would be lagging sadly behind the more progressive Allies. Adoption of this transmitter would mean scrapping a great deal of gear now in use, yet the facts learned in England showed plainly that the navy could not afford to do otherwise. Elkins saw this, and so did Brown. It was Brown’s rôle to report on the handling of communications. This problem was indissolubly linked with that of producing the apparatus, but on all technical phases of the subject he left it to Evans, with his superior scientific knowledge, to report their findings to the meeting.As clearly as he was able, Evans described the most important contributions which the British had made. He warmed to his theme as he came to their most brilliant feats of invention, especially the new vacuum-tube transmitter. But at this juncture his enthusiasm met a check. Admiral Bishop shook his head in disapproval, and remarked that it would be most unwise to abandon the apparatus which had been so successfully developed by American talent. One or two of the other officers nodded acquiescence. Evans was accustomed to the discussion of problems in physics at meetings of scientists where the quest of truth was as genuine in the others as in himself. He now started to argue the case much as he would have done at such a meeting. Too late he saw his blunder; the opinions of a warrant officer were not to be set up against those of the Bureau Chief. His insistence had only served to incense the Admiral. When he saw the effect of his remarks, he shut up like a clam, and, smarting inwardly with self-reproach enhanced by the rancor of annoyance at the official complacence of the Admiral, listened through the rest of the conference.Elkins endeavored to argue the case.“There’s a chance here to increase the efficiency of our communications one hundred per cent,” he said, “I believe, sir, we shall be making a grave mistake if we don’t at least give this transmitter careful consideration.”But Admiral Bishop only shook his head the harder; he had set the official seal of his disapproval upon the adoption of the British transmitter, and it was clearly the sense of the conference that American-made apparatus and American methods were undoubtedly the best. It is difficult to discard one’s own organization and adopt in its stead the creation of a foreign nation; and to recognize when a situation demands that course, requires more imagination and honesty of mind than most men have.As the meeting was breaking up, Commander Rich approached Elkins and Evans and said, graciously:“I admired your report on that British apparatus; clearly it merits the most careful consideration. But, of course, you must recognize the difficulties in the way of radical changes involving destruction of gear already in use, and you will realize the natural reluctance of an older man like the Admiral to take such a course unless it is necessary. However, you may be sure I will see to it that all arguments in favor of the British apparatus are given a fair and impartial hearing.”After Commander Rich and the others had left, Evans continued to discuss the matter with Elkins and Brown. They tried to view it from Admiral Bishop’s standpoint. Would it be better, after all, to ignore the valuable advances made by the British, and to use only the apparatus of home design, and demand of the British that they adopt American procedure for the sake of uniformity? Viewing it from every possible angle, they all agreed that this course would be the height of folly, for it would materially impair the efficiency of the fleet, and would also make a very bad impression on the British experts by using dominance in numbers to force on them the adoption of obviously inferior methods. The British had been more than willing to adopt such of the American procedure as was superior to their own. How would they feel if America failed to reciprocate where common sense clearly demanded it? This would be an ill omen for friendly coöperation.“It’s too important to let slide,” Evans said to himself, “but it wouldn’t be wise to bother Sam with it, if I can help it. He’s got enough on his hands, and any insistence on his part that the Bureau should go against the wish of the Chief might do a lot of harm. It’s got to be done some other way.”Impelled by this feeling, he voiced his sentiments more earnestly than ever to Elkins. The implied criticism of superiors would have deterred both men from candor had it been the average lieutenant-commander talking with the average warrant officer. But when in time of stress men actuated by the right spirit join in a disinterested effort to serve a cause, matters of rank and seniority automatically drop out of the equation. Elkins assured him he would use what influence he had, but was by no means confident of his ability to do anything with the Admiral.Evans remarked: “It would help a good deal if a demand for it made itself felt from the D.N.C. office. Engineering supplies the apparatus and Operations uses it. There are times when Engineering can take the lead by developing gear which creates new possibilities for Operations; there are times when Operations can take the lead by saying to Engineering, ‘We want apparatus that will do so-and-so; can you make it?’ Now, if Operations, as embodied in the D.N.C. office, could make just the right request, it might shake things up over here. Mr. Brown, have you got some live wires in your office?”“Yes, a few,” replied Brown; “but I don’t know just how to rouse them to the kind of action that you want.”“That may be rather difficult,” said Evans; “but there’s no knowing what a little modern telepathy on scientific lines may accomplish.”“I took you for a simple-minded scientist,” said Elkins, “but from the way you talk I begin to think you’re a regular politician.”Evans laughed. In the next few days he found business to discuss with Lieutenant Brown at the D.N.C. office. While he was there, discussions arose over modern problems of communications in which he was consulted as technical expert.Ten days later, after Elkins had been preparing the ground among some of the officers in the Bureau of Engineering, they received an intimation from the Director of Naval Communications that the British procedure was deemed most suitable for adoption throughout the Allied fleet, and that it would be desirable to produce, if possible, apparatus suited to this procedure. These officers asked Elkins if any information was available bearing on the feasibility of providing something which would answer these requirements. He said he would find out, and soon returned with specifications following close to those of the British transmitter, and estimates furnished by the best available manufacturers. Armed with this information he took the case to Commander Rich. This officer expressed a warm appreciation of the valuable work performed in securing the information and estimates, and said he would take the matter up with the Admiral. After a conference with Admiral Bishop, Rich sent for Elkins and told him the Admiral had been firm in his refusal to abandon the gear then in use and to adopt in its stead the proposed apparatus.“Admiral Bishop is conservative,” said Rich, “but we must remember that he is a man of great experience, and wiser than we.”Evans was dismayed when Elkins told him the news.“I don’t like it a bit,” he said. “It seems as if there were something more than mere conservatism in this.”“What do you mean?”“I don’t know,” was the reply.“Well,” said Elkins, “you know it is devilish hard for an older man to throw overboard the things he’s used to and take on something entirely new.”“I know,” said Evans, “but this case is so perfectly clear—well, I don’t know.”That evening Evans spent an hour with Mortimer in his private study. Their talk was concerned chiefly with the broader problems of naval policy. Evans did not tell him of the trouble over the transmitter, but merely remarked that the mission to England had been fruitful of most interesting developments, especially in connection with the radio problems that concerned both the Director of Naval Communications and the Bureau of Engineering.“When do you expect to visit the Bureau of Engineering again? You’d be interested to hear something of this from the men at the top,” said Evans as he was rising to go.“I’ll be round Friday morning,” replied Mortimer.Evans knew Mortimer’s habits well enough to be quite certain that this meant about eleven o’clock.Next morning he went to the Bureau of Operations and sought Lieutenant Brown. This officer and his chief, Admiral Fraley, the Director of Naval Communications, were greatly disturbed by the refusal of the Bureau of Engineering to furnish the apparatus required for adapting their procedure to the improved British plan; they hardly knew what to do about it. Evans now told Brown to tell his chief that he had heard from some one in the Bureau of Engineering that Friday, a few minutes before eleven, would be a favorable time for him to see Admiral Bishop about the question of apparatus. This intimation was duly passed on to Admiral Fraley.Acting on this intimation, Fraley called on Admiral Bishop just before eleven. He had scarcely opened the subject when Secretary Mortimer was announced. In spite of a good measure of self-possession, Admiral Fraley’s face revealed to Mortimer’s keen perception a trace of the annoyance which he naturally felt at losing his chance to present his case to Admiral Bishop. He started to withdraw, but Mortimer stopped him and said, “Don’t let me interrupt your conference.”“I can come back some other time,” said Fraley.“I’m here to promote, not obstruct, the work of the department,” said Mortimer. “I’m interested in everything that goes on, and if my presence doesn’t embarrass your freedom of speech, I’d really rather have you go on with your business; I’m in no hurry.”Admiral Fraley hesitated a moment, then, as it flashed on him that Mortimer’s presence and interest might offer a rare opportunity of support from superior brains and authority, he stated his case. He explained how Lieutenant Brown’s report on British methods made it seem imperative that certain of their procedures depending on their new transmitter be adopted, and he further said he understood that those who had looked into the technical side of the matter were convinced that it could be done. He wondered what was the difficulty in the way of supplying the necessary apparatus, and whether there might not be some way of surmounting it, in view of the great tactical importance of conformity with the British in this respect.Admiral Bishop was nothing if not pompous. He was senior in rank to Fraley. His round, red face became slightly redder at what appeared to be the airing of a difference of opinion in the presence of the Secretary. But with Mortimer’s keen eye upon him, he was aware that this was no matter to be put off with a display of authority and rank.His manner was therefore affable enough as he replied: “In all matters pertaining to radio apparatus I rely on the judgment of Commander Rich, who is in charge of that division, and whose wisdom in such matters is quite unsurpassed. He gave me to understand that he had inquired into the matter thoroughly and could assure me that the alleged advantage of the British procedure amounted to practically nothing, and was certainly not worth making the expensive change involved in removing vast quantities of material already installed in the ships and replacing it with something comparatively new and untried, with which our operators are unfamiliar.”Mortimer looked at Admiral Fraley, who appeared perplexed and rather taken aback.“There seems to be a surprising conflict in expert opinion,” remarked Mortimer, “and this on a matter of some importance. Can’t we call in the exponents of the conflicting views and come to an understanding here and now?”“I can send for Commander Rich,” said Admiral Bishop.“Who are your authorities on the side of the British procedure?” Mortimer asked of Fraley.“Lieutenant Brown of my office reported on the traffic end of the question,” answered Fraley. “He got his information on the apparatus chiefly from Lieutenant-Commander Elkins of this Bureau and also from a radio gunner who obtained most of the data, as I understand it.”“Let’s get them all in here and thrash out the problem,” said Mortimer.Thereupon Commander Rich, Elkins, Brown, and Evans were all summoned. Mortimer was spokesman.“I chanced to be present,” he said, “as Admiral Fraley was asking Admiral Bishop if there was not some way to overcome the obstacles in the way of supplying the apparatus needed for the adoption of this British procedure which, from the standpoint of operations, he deems so important. From what I heard I gathered that there had been some misunderstanding, and I thought we might clear it right up. Commander Rich, I understand from Admiral Bishop that you have looked into this and concluded that it was not of sufficient importance to warrant the expense of making the necessary changes. Am I right in my understanding?”Evans and Elkins both looked at Commander Rich in surprise. He appeared perfectly at ease as he replied in a manner which bespoke deference and conciliation: “Mr. Secretary, if I in any way underestimated the advantages of the British procedure, I am sure it was quite unintentional. What I endeavored to do was to sum up the pros and cons as impartially as I could, and to defer to the superior judgment of the Admiral, rather than to seek in any way to influence his decision.”“It was my impression,” said Admiral Bishop, “that you favored adherence to our standard procedure, a course to which I should naturally incline, to be sure, unless very good reasons for changing were forthcoming. Perhaps, however, I misunderstood your attitude.”The Admiral’s memory was not clear enough to recall that Rich had reinforced his natural conservatism by intimating, before the meeting at which the matter was first brought up, that changes were about to be proposed which it would be unwise even to consider.Mortimer then asked for a summary of the case for the proposed changes. Brown, at the request of Admiral Fraley, explained the salient points of the communication problem. When he came to the question of the needed apparatus, he referred Mortimer to Elkins, who in turn referred him to Evans. In a few words Evans stated the advantages of the apparatus.“What about the expense and difficulty of having it installed?” said Mortimer. “This seems to have been a seriously deterring consideration.”Evans answered with figures and estimates which decisively disposed of this difficulty, leaving the case so clear for the proposed changes that Admiral Bishop could not do otherwise than authorize them.Soon after this incident, late one afternoon when the day’s work in the Bureau of Engineering was done, and almost every one had gone home, Evans lingered, as he often did, over a knotty engineering problem. As he was leaving to go, he saw in the corridor a man with a sallow face going into Commander Rich’s room. He knew Commander Rich often stayed in his room long after the others had gone, and many people had business with him; so there was nothing remarkable about this. But to-night the sight of this man gave him a vague, uncomfortable feeling, scarcely more than subconscious, that he had seen him somewhere before. Also in a seemingly haphazard way the thought and feeling of England stirred in his subconscious mind. But the guileless physicist was so absorbed in his engineering problem that these matters never quite reached the arena of his conscious thoughts. He had so much to think about that he had neither time nor inclination to heed such capricious freaks of the subconscious, and the impressions soon passed into the storehouse of forgotten experience.During the winter months following the return of the commission to Washington, the navy was preparing in a hundred different ways for the task which lay before it. The draft law having been passed, large numbers of recruits, the pick of the draft, were assembled at training stations and rapidly absorbed into the fleet and the various naval bases on shore. Fortunate they were that the organization into which they were thus merged was led by such a body of men as the officers of the United States Navy. Through the long years of indifference on the part of the majority of their countrymen, these faithful guardians of the Nation’s frontier, trained at the Naval Academy to a high degree of professional skill, without which the complex organization of the fighting ships cannot function, had served with zeal, and against great odds had kept the fleet ready—kept the colossal machine intact, so that the hordes of untrained men could be assimilated with the least possible loss of time and effort.Ship and aircraft construction were accelerated by all known means, and the work of designing and experimenting in every department went on with ever-increasing efficiency and concentration. In gunnery no department was neglected; on ships and in training stations drills with loading machine and dotter were carried on with zeal, and everywhere the officers saw to it that the high standard of efficiency in this field was maintained.The convoy system had been adopted with the declaration of war, and, with the aid of light cruisers and destroyers, great quantities of essential supplies were being poured into Northern Europe, enabling the Allies to keep up the fight, but by no means to break the deadlock. Nor were the convoys always able to pass unscathed through the submarine-infested seas; the toll of ships and cargoes proved a serious drain on the Allied strength.During these months, Evans, dressed in civilian clothes, dined with Mortimer at his house almost weekly, and after dinner they would sit alone together in Mortimer’s study, discussing the great problem of the war, often late into the night. Mortimer would tell of the deliberations and decisions of the General Staff. Evans would listen attentively and question him on significant points whose importance Mortimer himself had sometimes missed.Plans for combating the submarine menace were now developing apace. In spite of the convoy system, serious losses of tonnage kept occurring, and methods of searching systematically for the undersea pirates were eagerly sought. The Bureau of Engineering was devoting intensive effort to testing, perfecting, and installing in new vessels the best available hydrophones (underwater listening gear) and radio compasses (direction-finders), the latter both for finding the enemy by his wireless signals and for making contact with friendly craft when desired, as well as for purposes of navigation in thick weather. Evans devoted most of his time to these tasks, taking a hand in the work of improving methods, and exercising general supervision over the installation, testing, and calibration of all this sort of gear. As in 1918, a special two weeks’ course was started for instructing radio operators in the use of the radio compass, a course given in a laboratory by young radio experts. The operators, as fast as they finished this course, were sent aboard destroyers and other ships where the apparatus was installed, with the understanding that they were fully trained in the use of it. Evans endeavored to enlist the help of these operators in the work of testing and calibrating the apparatus; but he found that more than half of them, although supposedly radio-compass specialists, were utterly useless for the task. Their teachers, being inexperienced in the psychology of the student, had failed to impart the essentials, except to those of more than average intelligence; and, what made matters worse, the laboratory instruction had not approximated the actual conditions aboard ship. Even if the principles had been grasped, the operator found them difficult to apply under conditions so remotely resembling those of the laboratory. Evidently, to send these men out in charge of the radio compass aboard ship would mean the failure of the apparatus in about fifty per cent of the cases in which its use would be required.It was clear that the course should not only be improved, but should be supplemented by practical instruction aboard ship. Evans conferred with Lieutenant-Commander Elkins, and suggested to him that a motor-boat be equipped with a radio compass and that the operators be taken out on her and given practice in reporting the bearing of a transmitting station as the motor-boat steered an irregular, zigzag course. Aside from the advantage of instruction and practice under actual working conditions, the fitness of a man for radio-compass duty could thus be readily determined. At first they should practice on a transmitting station sending signals continuously, and thus facilitating the readings by giving them plenty of time for their observations; next, they should assay the more difficult task of taking bearings when the transmitting station sent only brief messages. Naval experts have pointed out that the enemy, knowing that his signals will probably be used to locate him by means of the radio compass, will make his messages as brief as possible, in order to render difficult the work of direction-finding; hence the importance of training the operators by calling on them to take bearings with messages of ever-increasing brevity.Elkins endeavored to arrange through the “usual channels” to have a motor-boat assigned to the Bureau of Engineering for this important training duty. But in this he met obstacles. Those who had control of the available motor-boats were not interested, and did not see the need of it; furthermore, Commander Rich told him Admiral Bishop felt that any training of operators beyond what was already provided would be quite unnecessary. Elkins told Evans the discouraging result of his effort.“What damn nonsense!” said Evans, frowning. “There needs to be a demand for efficient operators that will make itself felt enough to shake loose some of the stiff joints of this organization.” Then, after a pause, “Maybe the demand will come.”That evening Mortimer heard the whole story.“I guess it will be a simple matter for me to arrange to have a motor-boat set aside for this work,” he said to Evans.“Wouldn’t it be better not to have them get the idea that I have a ‘drag’?” said Evans. “Then, too, sequelæ embarrassing to Elkins might result if such an order came through just after his request had been turned down. There’s a better way than that. Isn’t it about time for you to decide that you want to determine whether the radio-compass machinery—material and personnel—is up to the important task required of it? You could order a practical test—a board appointed to make it—and for samples of the goods, eight or ten operators just through the compass course, selected at random, aboard a destroyer with the gear just installed. Let ’em show what they can do with signals sent from various bearings. Make them come across quick with the test so that there won’t be time for any one to cheat it by giving the operators special training. I am confident this test will show that something is lacking. Then let us have some men along who know a radio compass when they see it, to show what the gear can do if you understand it, lest perchance the apparatus be condemned instead of the poor boobs that are miscalled experts.”It seemed altogether natural when a few days later the Secretary of the Navy appointed a board to conduct a test of the radio compass and the men assigned to operate it, under the nearest possible approach to service conditions. Ten operators just from their special course were to report on board a destroyer whose radio compass had recently been installed. Three patrol boats were to maneuver about her and each one in turn was to send signals for one minute. Thus the radio signals would come from unexpected angles. The operator was to be shut into the radio-compass shack, so that he couldn’t see the patrol boats, and was to report the bearing by voice-tube to the bridge as soon as he had determined it. Then the Bureau of Engineering was to select for comparison four operators known to be really familiar with the radio compass, to take bearings on the same patrol boats after the new operators had completed their test, in order that a fair basis might be established for judging the operators as prepared by the special course.When this order became known, Elkins was delighted. “Now is our chance,” he said to Evans, “to have this thing properly tested, and we’ll know whether those boys need some practical drilling or not.”Together they picked the four best men among the radio chiefs who had been helping with the radio compasses, and made sure that when it came to their part of the test they would not be found wanting.On the appointed day the destroyer steamed out into Chesapeake Bay accompanied by the three patrol boats. Secretary Mortimer was on board, for he deemed the experiment important enough to warrant his personal observation. Admiral Bishop, Commander Rich, and Elkins had come to represent the Bureau of Engineering, and Elkins had obtained permission to bring Evans to be sure that the gear was in working order.Commander Rich was almost constantly at Mortimer’s side, talking with him pleasantly or earnestly as seemed most fitting at the moment. He spoke of the value of a broad sense of proportion in naval matters.“Some people,” he said, “can’t see anything outside their own little problems. A man in charge of a thing like this radio compass, for example, is apt to think it’s the most important thing in the whole navy, and everything else should give way before it. I believe a man should see the problem as a whole. Now take my case: I’m in charge of radio, but it would be silly of me to fancy that radio was the most important thing in the whole organization. I recognize that Admiral Bishop has a much wider vision, that radio is only one small part of a colossal machine, and I am ready to defer to the needs of gunnery and the like when occasion demands.”In preparation for the test, Evans had to come up on the bridge to confer with Elkins. Encountering Commander Rich, he saw in his face a look of scorn as this keen-looking officer eyed him in his dungarees, and in the look he fancied he saw, too, something more sinister than scorn. It haunted him as he returned to the radio compass, but with an effort he dismissed the thought, convincing himself that it was probably the result of pique in his own rather sensitive nature.Commander Rich, watching Evans swinging himself nimbly up the ladder to the radio-compass shack, remarked jovially to Mortimer, “Looks to me like that gunner had a little of that monkey-gland extract you read about, the way he goes climbing round the ship.”And when during the subsequent stages of the test Evans appeared, Commander Rich was ever ready, if the chance offered, to drop a sarcastic remark about the “monkey-man.”Admiral Bishop had some difficulty engineering his portly form up the steep ladder leading to the destroyer’s bridge. It would be hard to find anywhere, on land or sea, a scene more vividly expressive of human efficiency than is presented by the bridge of a warship executing a maneuver even of the simplest sort. Officers, signalmen, and helmsman, alert and intent on the perfect team-work needed to fit the operation of the ship into the working of the larger machine, the fleet, execute their orders in a way that testifies to the high character of their training. Into such a scene came Admiral Bishop with all his pomp, as the signals were being sent which directed the patrol boats to their stations.When all was ready for the test, the patrol boats circled round the destroyer at a distance of a mile or so, and first one, then another, was signaled to send messages. First, the operators just graduated from the special radio-compass course were tested. Each man was given three bearings to report, one on each patrol boat. The first operator to be tested nervously entered the radio-compass house, wondering if his fate hung on his performance, and fumbled for a while with the somewhat unfamiliar apparatus. Finally he tuned in the patrol boat signal, and then, as he twirled the hand-wheel which rotates the coil, he became confused, and before he could gather his wits he realized that his minute was up and he had reported no bearing. On his second and third bearings he made a little progress, but the results were considerably in error. As he took off the head-phones and stepped out of the house, he said to the chief radio operator of the destroyer, “That don’t sound nothing like what they give us to learn on in the course. It’s all so different I couldn’t make nothing of it.” The next man, awaiting his turn, heard the remark and profited somewhat by it. He obtained a rough bearing each time just before his minute was up. Out of the ten operators tested, only three gave even a respectable performance.Admiral Bishop had but a hazy idea of the nature of the test which was being made. When he first came on the bridge, he got into conversation with the skipper of the destroyer, who fortunately had his officers well enough indoctrinated to operate the ship and carry on the test without his personal attention. The Admiral, having been on shore duty for several years, coming once more on shipboard, was reminded of cruises of long years ago. His talk became one of reminiscence about the good old days. It was not until the test of the ten operators was nearly finished that he became aware that it had begun. Commander Rich then explained to him just how the test was being conducted.“You see the patrol boat out there is sending us signals. Down there in the radio-compass house aft, the operator is taking the bearing he gets on the signal as it comes in. He reports it to us here on the bridge by voice-tube. At the same time the navigating officer here is noting the actual bearing of the patrol boat by eye with the pelorus, to see whether the radio bearing is right.”About this time the last of the ten operators completed his test, and the results were displayed before Admiral Bishop, revealing clearly their unsatisfactory performance.“Seems to me this radio compass doesn’t show up very well in service conditions, Mr. Secretary,” said the Admiral. “That’s the way with a lot of these gadgets; they’re all right on paper and in the laboratory, but on board ship they don’t cut much figure.”“We have still to see the second part of the test,” answered Mortimer. “The fault may be in the gear or in the operators; I want to find out which.”One of the men picked by the Bureau was then sent into the compass house. The signal was given for the sending to begin and in twenty seconds he reported by voice-tube, “Sixty-five.”“That looks like business,” said the skipper of the destroyer. “How is it?” addressing the question to his navigator, who with his eye at the sighting vane of the pelorus followed the course of the patrol boat.“She’s bearing sixty-four,” was the answer.“Right to within one degree. Will he do it again?” said the skipper.In five successive tests this operator reported the bearings with an average error of less than one degree, and his reports were delivered to the bridge with increasing promptness.A signal to the patrol boats ordered the time of sending reduced to thirty seconds. The three remaining picked men then showed what they could do, and the greatest error was two degrees. On average barely eighteen seconds elapsed from the time the signals began till the report was heard on the bridge.Admiral Bishop was now following the proceedings with interest and began to see what an accurate instrument the radio compass was when in competent hands, but his imagination was not keen enough to envisage the possibilities which it opened. The skipper of the destroyer was the first to propose a more spectacular demonstration.“Let’s have him steer us to one of the boats,” he said.A signal was made to the patrol boat on the port quarter to send signals continuously till further notice. The operator, when told what he was to do, listened a moment, revolving the coil and manipulating the switches, then called to the bridge, “Left rudder.” The officer of the deck passed the word to the helmsman, and as the ship swung round till the signaling patrol boat bore dead ahead, the voice from the radio-compass house called, “Steady as you go.” It looked like witchcraft, this guidance of the ship by an unseen and sightless power unerringly toward the source of the silent ether waves. As the patrol boat bore away to starboard, the operator kept the destroyer following her with her bow till, bearing down on her at eighteen knots, they were only a hundred yards from the little boat, when the skipper said, “Left rudder,” and the destroyer shot past the smaller boat within a stone’s throw.Admiral Bishop, watching this exhibition, grasped for the first time what it really meant. As the unfailing precision with which the destroyer tracked her quarry became more and more apparent, his enthusiasm grew till his eyes fairly sparkled with delight. He shook hands with Commander Rich and congratulated him heartily on the splendid equipment which his division had installed in the ships.After that it was only natural that, when the report of the test had been made, a motor-boat equipped with a radio compass should be set aside for the drilling of operators. And in the wake of this reform there naturally followed similar methods for the drilling of personnel in the use of hydrophones of all sorts, and all manner of special apparatus.About a fortnight after this convincing demonstration on Chesapeake Bay, theSheridan, a brand-new scout cruiser, was steaming back to the Boston Navy Yard after making her speed trial at Rockland, Maine. She was the first of a new batch of scout cruisers being rushed to completion, and in speed and every other important essential for this type of craft she was the last word. She was, of course, equipped with a radio compass of the latest model, and before the trip to Rockland this had been carefully tested and calibrated. In view of the importance attached to this apparatus since the demonstration on the Chesapeake, a radio gunner named Long had been sent by the Bureau of Engineering to stay on board throughout this trip and check the work of the operators to be sure that both they and the apparatus were dependable for purposes of navigation. On the way to Rockland, Long had seized every opportunity of taking bearings on stations along the coast. The results had delighted the navigator, who saw that in every case he could depend on the bearings given.Now, on the return trip, the navigator had occasion to be especially glad of the pains Long had taken, for a thick fog shut in soon after they passed Monhegan Island; every adjunct that could help him in his important duty of fixing the ship’s position was more than welcome.Late in the afternoon the captain, the navigator, and the officer of the deck stood on the bridge straining their eyes ahead into the dense, wet fog.“Captain,” said the navigator, “I think we’d better get some radio-compass bearings; my dead-reckoning shows us about ten miles from Cape Ann, and we don’t want to go much closer without checking our position.”“Very well,” said the captain, “you may instruct the radio room to get the bearings.”A signal was sent out, and in less than five minutes a full report from the radio room was handed to the officer of the deck on the bridge. It read as follows:Cape Cod reports bearing 338°, Gloucester reports bearing 73°, Fourth Cliff radio compass temporarily out of commission; ship’s own radio compass gives bearing of Boston Navy Yard transmitter 242°.With alacrity the navigator plotted on the chart the position thus given.“This shows us five miles south-southeast of our dead-reckoning,” he said to the captain.“Are those bearings dependable?” was the reply.“Our radio compass has been giving us bearings accurate to within one degree without fail ever since we left Boston, and the shore stations are regularly dependable to within less than that. Besides, we have here three bearings and they check each other reasonably close, making the fix practically a certainty.”“Have them repeated,” said the skipper.“Aye, aye, sir.”The message was sent and in three minutes a report was received corroborating the previous bearings.“How do you account for the error in dead-reckoning?” asked the captain.“I don’t know,” said the navigator; “but you remember the seven destroyers that went aground on the Pacific coast in 1923 because they ignored the radio-compass bearings and trusted their dead-reckoning.”“That’s right,” said the skipper; “we can’t afford to do that. What about sounding?”“That wouldn’t help us much here, the bottom’s too irregular.”They looked at the chart together for a minute.“Give us a course that will pick up the whistling buoy off Thatcher’s Island from this last fix,” said the skipper.The navigator plotted the course, and the order was given, at which the ship swung a point and a half to the northward.The speed of the ship had already been reduced to fifteen knots which on a ship in the habit of cruising at twenty-five, and capable of forty, seemed like a snail’s pace. There was not much more than an hour of daylight left, and making a landfall in fog and twilight is nasty business; so the captain was loath to slow down any more. But the fog shut in thicker till the bow could barely be seen from the bridge; a hundred yards marked the limit of visibility ahead. At fifteen knots a hundred yards is traversed in very few seconds; caution therefore constrained the captain to reduce speed to twelve knots. The lithe ship seemed to be crawling through the water.Forty minutes passed. All eyes looked forward into the thick blanket of fog which seemed to paralyze the sense of sight. Captain and navigator paced nervously to and fro, looking now at the chart and then again into the gray void. The leaden sky began to darken visibly.“We’ve gone eight miles since we changed course,” said the navigator; “we ought to hear that whistle, we could hear it two miles in any direction.”“You’d better get some more bearings,” said the captain.At that moment the lookout in the bow shouted, “Surf ahead.”The captain sprang to the engine-room telegraph and jerked back the lever calling for full speed astern. In two seconds, which seemed an eternity, the whole ship began to shake as the turbines backed water with all their power. But a seven-thousand-ton ship even at twelve knots cannot be brought to a standstill instantly, and just as the breakers ahead became visible to the anxious eyes on the bridge, there was a hideous, grinding crash and shock.To the skipper and navigator it was like the crack of doom—the death-knell of their careers, for with a horrible sickness in their hearts they knew they had driven one of Uncle Sam’s finest ships ashore on an exposed and dangerous coast. TheSheridanwas hard aground on the north end of a reef known as “the Salvages,” just off the Rockport breakwater, some three miles north of Thatcher’s Island.The coolness, self-possession, and resourcefulness which these officers and those under them showed in handling this disastrous situation, which confronted them with overwhelming suddenness, was to their eternal credit and to that of the navy. Fortunately, the sea was not heavy and no difficulty was found in getting the crew safely off the ship. Salvage operations were promptly begun, and in a few days the Sheridan was pulled off the reef and towed to the Navy Yard where the extensive repairs and rebuilding of her bow were begun.When the board of inquiry met to investigate the cause of the disaster, it was clearly revealed that the navigator’s dead-reckoning had been correct, that the radio-compass bearings, which showed the ship to be five miles south-southeast of the dead-reckoning position, must have been in error, and that trusting these bearings and changing course to the northward had caused the ship to run aground.Mortimer held a conference with Commander Rich.“You can’t trust these gadgets,” said Rich, speaking of the radio compass. “There’s a dangerous tendency among some officers to rely on a thing like this because it works well once. You see what happens:—one day it works beautifully, the next day it puts your best cruiser on the beach. If I were you I wouldn’t waste another dollar installing such gear; it will be leading to a false sense of security, and will wreck some more ships.”With the wreck of theSheridanstaring Mortimer in the face, Commander Rich’s logic seemed to him convincing. When Evans heard of this, he was sorely troubled.“See here, Sam,” he said, “this radio compass is a thing that has been working for twenty years, guiding our ships safely into harbors in thick weather. Look at the possibilities it has in naval warfare! To go and scrap it because of one bad fix would be like throwing overboard all your guns because of one wild shot.”“Commander Rich says it’s not dependable and is apt to cause more wrecks,” said Mortimer; “and Commander Rich is one of the keenest and wisest men in the navy.”“He’s a jackass if he tells you to give up this valuable instrument. There’s some definite reason why those bearings were wrong, and the reason ought to be looked for and found.”“I don’t like the way you speak of Commander Rich. I count on him in matters of practical engineering more than on almost any one.”Evans was silent a moment, frowning and fingering a paper-weight restlessly.“I wish you’d let me go to Boston myself and examine theSheridan’sradio compass, and the one in the shore station at Gloucester that gave the wrong bearing. I believe I could find out something.”“I don’t see that it would do any good,” said Mortimer. “Besides, you’re needed for your work right here in the Bureau.”“I’m doing nothing in the Bureau half so important as getting the truth on this matter. If I can find out why the apparatus failed and show how to prevent its failure in future, and thereby restore your confidence in it, I’ll have done the biggest job for the navy that I can ever hope to do.”“If Commander Rich thinks it worth while to send you there, well and good,” said Mortimer.“Commander Rich would never send me. He has disliked me ever since that scene we had over the British vacuum-tube transmitter. He’d turn down a request like that just for the sake of snubbing me, even if he saw the point in my going, which he wouldn’t. The only way is to have orders come from some one above him. For God’s sake, Sam, give this thing a chance. Let me get up there and see what happened.”His earnestness startled Mortimer and recalled the deep trust in his friend that he had always felt, and at last he yielded. It was arranged that Evans should receive orders which would enable him to visit the radio compasses around Boston and to go aboard theSheridan, now being repaired there.First Evans visited the station at Fourth Cliff near Scituate, the station which on the fateful day had been reported out of commission. He learned that during the entire day of the wreck the operators had been unable to make the apparatus work. The next morning a careful examination had revealed a loose connection which had resulted in an open circuit. It was the kind of thing that might easily result from undue haste in installing the gear.At Gloucester he questioned the operators closely. They could not account for the error in the bearings they had given to theSheridan, both of them having proved to be some sixteen degrees off. The apparatus had been giving accurate bearings for years; they used it on that day just as they always had, and since that day it had been tested and recalibrated, and had proved to be in perfect condition and giving just as accurate bearings as it always had. Evans examined the apparatus himself with the greatest care. Nothing was amiss; it certainly was in perfect working order and adjustment. He was mystified; he could find no possible clue to this sudden and disastrous lapse. At all events, the gear was working well now, and the operators on their guard against mistakes.On theSheridanEvans found the radio compass apparently in good order. But when he had signals sent from a station near by and tested the gear in actual use, he found the bearings which it indicated always eight degrees to the right of what they should be. He then examined the circular scale from which the readings were taken and found it eight degrees out of alignment with the coil.“That’s a rank bit of installation,” he said to the operator in charge of the apparatus. “I thought you’d been getting good bearings with it all along the coast before you went aground.”“We did,” said the operator.“How could you? The scale is eight degrees out.”“It must have slipped.”Evans took hold of the scale and found it securely fixed in position. He looked carefully for any possible obstruction which might have caught on it as the coil was rotated and forced it round on the shaft, but he found none.“I don’t see how it could have slipped; it’s on tight enough,” he said.The operator shrugged his shoulders.“Are you sure no one made any adjustments here that day?” Evans asked.“I know I didn’t, and I’m pretty sure my mate didn’t, but I’ll ask him. We were the only ones in here except Gunner Long who came from the Bureau to see that the gear was working. He was here in the shack and sent me to get some wire or something from the main radio room an hour or so before we struck. I was gone only two or three minutes, and that was the only time I was out of the shack all the forenoon. I stayed here till the order came to abandon ship and we all got into the boats.”His mate, the other radio-compass operator, was sent for, and corroborated his story as far as his own watch was concerned. Evans was baffled. But it was a simple matter to set the apparatus right. He reset the circular scale in its proper position; and he nearly broke his screwdriver tightening the set-screw which held it in position, to be sure it did not “slip” again.When he returned to Washington to report on his findings, his task was not easy. Elkins, with whom he discussed the matter, was entirely sympathetic. A peculiar combination of circumstances had wrecked the ship. The one time in years when the Gloucester station failed to give accurate bearings happened to coincide with an unaccountable slipping of the scale on the Sheridan’s radio compass. Such a combination of mishaps was not likely to occur again in a generation. It would be absurd to abandon anything so obviously useful because of it. Mortimer was still skeptical, and inclined to follow the advice of Rich, but Evans drove home his point with such earnestness and force, as they discussed it by Mortimer’s study fire, backing up his argument with Elkins’s concurrence, that Mortimer finally said he would allow installation of the gear to continue for the present. But he considered it on trial; any more serious failures or disasters, and the radio compass would be discarded as far as any active use of it in warfare was concerned.One day, soon after his return to Washington from Boston, Evans talked with Commander Barton of the Bureau of Intelligence about the peculiar mishap, and his failure to explain just how it occurred. When he mentioned his investigation of the Gloucester station, and finding the apparatus there in perfect order, Barton said, “Did you ask them who had been in the station that day or the day before?”“No, I didn’t think of that,” said Evans; “I was looking for trouble in the apparatus.”“I should say that was the first thing to find out,” said Barton.That evening Evans did some hard thinking, and went to bed a wiser man.Barton sent one of his best officers to Boston to visit the stations at Gloucester and Fourth Cliff, and conduct a bit of research along somewhat different lines from those Evans had followed. What this officer told Barton on his return he kept to himself. For a long, long time he did not speak of it to another living soul except Admiral Rallston, Chief of the Bureau of Naval Intelligence.As the winter months wore on, the navy’s main task was escorting the great convoys across the ocean and thus enabling the armies of Northern Europe to hold their line. But the navy was preparing for larger things than escort duty. The enemy submarine base at the Azores proved to be a constant menace; from it submarines would come out in force, and sometimes succeed in sinking ships and escaping unharmed from the depth charges of the escort.At Punta Delgada, the capital port of the Azores, the enemy had for some years been building a giant breakwater to create a harbor far bigger than that which sheltered American destroyers and submarines in 1918 when this port was in friendly hands. Work was now being rushed to complete this greater harbor, and with it docking facilities that would make the base more efficient in the maintenance of extensive submarine operations.The nearest Allied base to the Azores was Berehaven on the Irish coast, and from here a British airplane carrier went out from time to time, cruising southwest to within two hundred miles of Punta Delgada, whence just before dawn she would launch into the air two or three high-speed aeroplanes equipped only with their machine guns and cameras of the most perfect type for long-distance photography. When the first rays of the rising sun struck the harbor and port works of Punta Delgada, revealing all details through the contrast of light and shadow, with a brilliance of relief which is lost when the sun is high, these planes, soaring at an altitude too great for the eyes of the drowsy watchers, would take their pictures and fly away unseen to the waiting mother ship. The optical system in these cameras was a marvel of design, and when the photographs were studied under the lens in London and Washington, it was not difficult to follow in detail the work of perfecting the submarine base.By the end of the winter this photographic study had revealed that the breakwater was practically complete, and the docks almost ready for the opening of more extensive submarine operations; moreover, coast-defense guns and vast stores of ordnance and engineering material had been accumulated, and all was in readiness for the building of powerful defenses which would make the seizure of the port difficult in the extreme. Now was the time to attack, before the great coast-defense guns were mounted and ready for use. The American Navy, which had suffered from the peace-time shortage of personnel, was now adequately manned and ready for aggressive action. A consolidation with the British and French ships was effected, and in March the attempt was made to seize Punta Delgada. The Mediterranean Powers deemed it unwise to risk their capital ships for the defense of this point, and kept them safe in the Mediterranean. After a brief resistance, the Azores fell into the hands of the Allies. The enemy had done the lion’s share of the work of preparing a first-class base with the strongest kind of defenses. The materials were there, and it was a comparatively easy task for the Americans and British to assemble them after their own pattern. The loss of this valuable base was extremely annoying to the enemy, but as long as their fleet remained intact within the shelter of the Mediterranean Sea they felt secure in their control of the great resources on which they pinned their faith.Following the advantage gained by possession of the Azores, the Allied forces soon took Madeira and the Canary Islands, both bases being less strongly defended than the Azores. The Cape Verde Islands thus were virtually cut off from their base, and surrendered before long without resistance.
Immediately after the return of the commission to Washington, a meeting was held in the Bureau of Engineering, at which those results of the mission to England which had to do with engineering problems were reported.
Admiral Bishop, Chief of the Bureau, presided. He was an elderly officer of robust build, with a hearty red face and white side-whiskers. At his right hand sat Commander Rich, head of the Radio Division of the Bureau, a thin-faced man with an aquiline nose and dark mobile eyes; his face bespoke an alert mind and quick perception. He had enrolled in the navy as a radio electrician many years before. By his ability he had risen through the various grades to warrant officer, and had been one of those selected from this status for the course at the Naval Academy. In this way he had risen to his present rank of commander. Heads of other divisions of the Bureau also sat at the large table near the center of the room. The three or four officers who had been sent abroad on engineering problems were present with their reports. Lieutenant Brown, although attached to the office of the Director of Naval Communications, and therefore belonging to the Bureau of Operations, was present, for among those who had been abroad he was the senior officer concerned with communications. Various other officers, whose duties dealt with the diverse branches of engineering, sat in chairs around the walls of the room. Among these was Lieutenant-Commander Elkins whom Evans had sized up as the most intelligent and open-minded of all the officers in the Radio Division of the Bureau. His technical training in radio engineering was less than that of some of the others, but perhaps by just so much was he free from prejudice in favor of home-made apparatus.
Before the meeting Evans had sought Elkins and explained the results of his investigation of radio methods in England. The British experts had presented convincing reasons for the universal adoption of some of their best engineering developments. One improvement in particular, a new type of vacuum-tube transmitter which they had recently perfected, far surpassed anything that had yet been seen, and by its efficiency in eliminating interference it opened such extraordinary possibilities in the scope of fleet communications that without it the navy would be lagging sadly behind the more progressive Allies. Adoption of this transmitter would mean scrapping a great deal of gear now in use, yet the facts learned in England showed plainly that the navy could not afford to do otherwise. Elkins saw this, and so did Brown. It was Brown’s rôle to report on the handling of communications. This problem was indissolubly linked with that of producing the apparatus, but on all technical phases of the subject he left it to Evans, with his superior scientific knowledge, to report their findings to the meeting.
As clearly as he was able, Evans described the most important contributions which the British had made. He warmed to his theme as he came to their most brilliant feats of invention, especially the new vacuum-tube transmitter. But at this juncture his enthusiasm met a check. Admiral Bishop shook his head in disapproval, and remarked that it would be most unwise to abandon the apparatus which had been so successfully developed by American talent. One or two of the other officers nodded acquiescence. Evans was accustomed to the discussion of problems in physics at meetings of scientists where the quest of truth was as genuine in the others as in himself. He now started to argue the case much as he would have done at such a meeting. Too late he saw his blunder; the opinions of a warrant officer were not to be set up against those of the Bureau Chief. His insistence had only served to incense the Admiral. When he saw the effect of his remarks, he shut up like a clam, and, smarting inwardly with self-reproach enhanced by the rancor of annoyance at the official complacence of the Admiral, listened through the rest of the conference.
Elkins endeavored to argue the case.
“There’s a chance here to increase the efficiency of our communications one hundred per cent,” he said, “I believe, sir, we shall be making a grave mistake if we don’t at least give this transmitter careful consideration.”
But Admiral Bishop only shook his head the harder; he had set the official seal of his disapproval upon the adoption of the British transmitter, and it was clearly the sense of the conference that American-made apparatus and American methods were undoubtedly the best. It is difficult to discard one’s own organization and adopt in its stead the creation of a foreign nation; and to recognize when a situation demands that course, requires more imagination and honesty of mind than most men have.
As the meeting was breaking up, Commander Rich approached Elkins and Evans and said, graciously:
“I admired your report on that British apparatus; clearly it merits the most careful consideration. But, of course, you must recognize the difficulties in the way of radical changes involving destruction of gear already in use, and you will realize the natural reluctance of an older man like the Admiral to take such a course unless it is necessary. However, you may be sure I will see to it that all arguments in favor of the British apparatus are given a fair and impartial hearing.”
After Commander Rich and the others had left, Evans continued to discuss the matter with Elkins and Brown. They tried to view it from Admiral Bishop’s standpoint. Would it be better, after all, to ignore the valuable advances made by the British, and to use only the apparatus of home design, and demand of the British that they adopt American procedure for the sake of uniformity? Viewing it from every possible angle, they all agreed that this course would be the height of folly, for it would materially impair the efficiency of the fleet, and would also make a very bad impression on the British experts by using dominance in numbers to force on them the adoption of obviously inferior methods. The British had been more than willing to adopt such of the American procedure as was superior to their own. How would they feel if America failed to reciprocate where common sense clearly demanded it? This would be an ill omen for friendly coöperation.
“It’s too important to let slide,” Evans said to himself, “but it wouldn’t be wise to bother Sam with it, if I can help it. He’s got enough on his hands, and any insistence on his part that the Bureau should go against the wish of the Chief might do a lot of harm. It’s got to be done some other way.”
Impelled by this feeling, he voiced his sentiments more earnestly than ever to Elkins. The implied criticism of superiors would have deterred both men from candor had it been the average lieutenant-commander talking with the average warrant officer. But when in time of stress men actuated by the right spirit join in a disinterested effort to serve a cause, matters of rank and seniority automatically drop out of the equation. Elkins assured him he would use what influence he had, but was by no means confident of his ability to do anything with the Admiral.
Evans remarked: “It would help a good deal if a demand for it made itself felt from the D.N.C. office. Engineering supplies the apparatus and Operations uses it. There are times when Engineering can take the lead by developing gear which creates new possibilities for Operations; there are times when Operations can take the lead by saying to Engineering, ‘We want apparatus that will do so-and-so; can you make it?’ Now, if Operations, as embodied in the D.N.C. office, could make just the right request, it might shake things up over here. Mr. Brown, have you got some live wires in your office?”
“Yes, a few,” replied Brown; “but I don’t know just how to rouse them to the kind of action that you want.”
“That may be rather difficult,” said Evans; “but there’s no knowing what a little modern telepathy on scientific lines may accomplish.”
“I took you for a simple-minded scientist,” said Elkins, “but from the way you talk I begin to think you’re a regular politician.”
Evans laughed. In the next few days he found business to discuss with Lieutenant Brown at the D.N.C. office. While he was there, discussions arose over modern problems of communications in which he was consulted as technical expert.
Ten days later, after Elkins had been preparing the ground among some of the officers in the Bureau of Engineering, they received an intimation from the Director of Naval Communications that the British procedure was deemed most suitable for adoption throughout the Allied fleet, and that it would be desirable to produce, if possible, apparatus suited to this procedure. These officers asked Elkins if any information was available bearing on the feasibility of providing something which would answer these requirements. He said he would find out, and soon returned with specifications following close to those of the British transmitter, and estimates furnished by the best available manufacturers. Armed with this information he took the case to Commander Rich. This officer expressed a warm appreciation of the valuable work performed in securing the information and estimates, and said he would take the matter up with the Admiral. After a conference with Admiral Bishop, Rich sent for Elkins and told him the Admiral had been firm in his refusal to abandon the gear then in use and to adopt in its stead the proposed apparatus.
“Admiral Bishop is conservative,” said Rich, “but we must remember that he is a man of great experience, and wiser than we.”
Evans was dismayed when Elkins told him the news.
“I don’t like it a bit,” he said. “It seems as if there were something more than mere conservatism in this.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” was the reply.
“Well,” said Elkins, “you know it is devilish hard for an older man to throw overboard the things he’s used to and take on something entirely new.”
“I know,” said Evans, “but this case is so perfectly clear—well, I don’t know.”
That evening Evans spent an hour with Mortimer in his private study. Their talk was concerned chiefly with the broader problems of naval policy. Evans did not tell him of the trouble over the transmitter, but merely remarked that the mission to England had been fruitful of most interesting developments, especially in connection with the radio problems that concerned both the Director of Naval Communications and the Bureau of Engineering.
“When do you expect to visit the Bureau of Engineering again? You’d be interested to hear something of this from the men at the top,” said Evans as he was rising to go.
“I’ll be round Friday morning,” replied Mortimer.
Evans knew Mortimer’s habits well enough to be quite certain that this meant about eleven o’clock.
Next morning he went to the Bureau of Operations and sought Lieutenant Brown. This officer and his chief, Admiral Fraley, the Director of Naval Communications, were greatly disturbed by the refusal of the Bureau of Engineering to furnish the apparatus required for adapting their procedure to the improved British plan; they hardly knew what to do about it. Evans now told Brown to tell his chief that he had heard from some one in the Bureau of Engineering that Friday, a few minutes before eleven, would be a favorable time for him to see Admiral Bishop about the question of apparatus. This intimation was duly passed on to Admiral Fraley.
Acting on this intimation, Fraley called on Admiral Bishop just before eleven. He had scarcely opened the subject when Secretary Mortimer was announced. In spite of a good measure of self-possession, Admiral Fraley’s face revealed to Mortimer’s keen perception a trace of the annoyance which he naturally felt at losing his chance to present his case to Admiral Bishop. He started to withdraw, but Mortimer stopped him and said, “Don’t let me interrupt your conference.”
“I can come back some other time,” said Fraley.
“I’m here to promote, not obstruct, the work of the department,” said Mortimer. “I’m interested in everything that goes on, and if my presence doesn’t embarrass your freedom of speech, I’d really rather have you go on with your business; I’m in no hurry.”
Admiral Fraley hesitated a moment, then, as it flashed on him that Mortimer’s presence and interest might offer a rare opportunity of support from superior brains and authority, he stated his case. He explained how Lieutenant Brown’s report on British methods made it seem imperative that certain of their procedures depending on their new transmitter be adopted, and he further said he understood that those who had looked into the technical side of the matter were convinced that it could be done. He wondered what was the difficulty in the way of supplying the necessary apparatus, and whether there might not be some way of surmounting it, in view of the great tactical importance of conformity with the British in this respect.
Admiral Bishop was nothing if not pompous. He was senior in rank to Fraley. His round, red face became slightly redder at what appeared to be the airing of a difference of opinion in the presence of the Secretary. But with Mortimer’s keen eye upon him, he was aware that this was no matter to be put off with a display of authority and rank.
His manner was therefore affable enough as he replied: “In all matters pertaining to radio apparatus I rely on the judgment of Commander Rich, who is in charge of that division, and whose wisdom in such matters is quite unsurpassed. He gave me to understand that he had inquired into the matter thoroughly and could assure me that the alleged advantage of the British procedure amounted to practically nothing, and was certainly not worth making the expensive change involved in removing vast quantities of material already installed in the ships and replacing it with something comparatively new and untried, with which our operators are unfamiliar.”
Mortimer looked at Admiral Fraley, who appeared perplexed and rather taken aback.
“There seems to be a surprising conflict in expert opinion,” remarked Mortimer, “and this on a matter of some importance. Can’t we call in the exponents of the conflicting views and come to an understanding here and now?”
“I can send for Commander Rich,” said Admiral Bishop.
“Who are your authorities on the side of the British procedure?” Mortimer asked of Fraley.
“Lieutenant Brown of my office reported on the traffic end of the question,” answered Fraley. “He got his information on the apparatus chiefly from Lieutenant-Commander Elkins of this Bureau and also from a radio gunner who obtained most of the data, as I understand it.”
“Let’s get them all in here and thrash out the problem,” said Mortimer.
Thereupon Commander Rich, Elkins, Brown, and Evans were all summoned. Mortimer was spokesman.
“I chanced to be present,” he said, “as Admiral Fraley was asking Admiral Bishop if there was not some way to overcome the obstacles in the way of supplying the apparatus needed for the adoption of this British procedure which, from the standpoint of operations, he deems so important. From what I heard I gathered that there had been some misunderstanding, and I thought we might clear it right up. Commander Rich, I understand from Admiral Bishop that you have looked into this and concluded that it was not of sufficient importance to warrant the expense of making the necessary changes. Am I right in my understanding?”
Evans and Elkins both looked at Commander Rich in surprise. He appeared perfectly at ease as he replied in a manner which bespoke deference and conciliation: “Mr. Secretary, if I in any way underestimated the advantages of the British procedure, I am sure it was quite unintentional. What I endeavored to do was to sum up the pros and cons as impartially as I could, and to defer to the superior judgment of the Admiral, rather than to seek in any way to influence his decision.”
“It was my impression,” said Admiral Bishop, “that you favored adherence to our standard procedure, a course to which I should naturally incline, to be sure, unless very good reasons for changing were forthcoming. Perhaps, however, I misunderstood your attitude.”
The Admiral’s memory was not clear enough to recall that Rich had reinforced his natural conservatism by intimating, before the meeting at which the matter was first brought up, that changes were about to be proposed which it would be unwise even to consider.
Mortimer then asked for a summary of the case for the proposed changes. Brown, at the request of Admiral Fraley, explained the salient points of the communication problem. When he came to the question of the needed apparatus, he referred Mortimer to Elkins, who in turn referred him to Evans. In a few words Evans stated the advantages of the apparatus.
“What about the expense and difficulty of having it installed?” said Mortimer. “This seems to have been a seriously deterring consideration.”
Evans answered with figures and estimates which decisively disposed of this difficulty, leaving the case so clear for the proposed changes that Admiral Bishop could not do otherwise than authorize them.
Soon after this incident, late one afternoon when the day’s work in the Bureau of Engineering was done, and almost every one had gone home, Evans lingered, as he often did, over a knotty engineering problem. As he was leaving to go, he saw in the corridor a man with a sallow face going into Commander Rich’s room. He knew Commander Rich often stayed in his room long after the others had gone, and many people had business with him; so there was nothing remarkable about this. But to-night the sight of this man gave him a vague, uncomfortable feeling, scarcely more than subconscious, that he had seen him somewhere before. Also in a seemingly haphazard way the thought and feeling of England stirred in his subconscious mind. But the guileless physicist was so absorbed in his engineering problem that these matters never quite reached the arena of his conscious thoughts. He had so much to think about that he had neither time nor inclination to heed such capricious freaks of the subconscious, and the impressions soon passed into the storehouse of forgotten experience.
During the winter months following the return of the commission to Washington, the navy was preparing in a hundred different ways for the task which lay before it. The draft law having been passed, large numbers of recruits, the pick of the draft, were assembled at training stations and rapidly absorbed into the fleet and the various naval bases on shore. Fortunate they were that the organization into which they were thus merged was led by such a body of men as the officers of the United States Navy. Through the long years of indifference on the part of the majority of their countrymen, these faithful guardians of the Nation’s frontier, trained at the Naval Academy to a high degree of professional skill, without which the complex organization of the fighting ships cannot function, had served with zeal, and against great odds had kept the fleet ready—kept the colossal machine intact, so that the hordes of untrained men could be assimilated with the least possible loss of time and effort.
Ship and aircraft construction were accelerated by all known means, and the work of designing and experimenting in every department went on with ever-increasing efficiency and concentration. In gunnery no department was neglected; on ships and in training stations drills with loading machine and dotter were carried on with zeal, and everywhere the officers saw to it that the high standard of efficiency in this field was maintained.
The convoy system had been adopted with the declaration of war, and, with the aid of light cruisers and destroyers, great quantities of essential supplies were being poured into Northern Europe, enabling the Allies to keep up the fight, but by no means to break the deadlock. Nor were the convoys always able to pass unscathed through the submarine-infested seas; the toll of ships and cargoes proved a serious drain on the Allied strength.
During these months, Evans, dressed in civilian clothes, dined with Mortimer at his house almost weekly, and after dinner they would sit alone together in Mortimer’s study, discussing the great problem of the war, often late into the night. Mortimer would tell of the deliberations and decisions of the General Staff. Evans would listen attentively and question him on significant points whose importance Mortimer himself had sometimes missed.
Plans for combating the submarine menace were now developing apace. In spite of the convoy system, serious losses of tonnage kept occurring, and methods of searching systematically for the undersea pirates were eagerly sought. The Bureau of Engineering was devoting intensive effort to testing, perfecting, and installing in new vessels the best available hydrophones (underwater listening gear) and radio compasses (direction-finders), the latter both for finding the enemy by his wireless signals and for making contact with friendly craft when desired, as well as for purposes of navigation in thick weather. Evans devoted most of his time to these tasks, taking a hand in the work of improving methods, and exercising general supervision over the installation, testing, and calibration of all this sort of gear. As in 1918, a special two weeks’ course was started for instructing radio operators in the use of the radio compass, a course given in a laboratory by young radio experts. The operators, as fast as they finished this course, were sent aboard destroyers and other ships where the apparatus was installed, with the understanding that they were fully trained in the use of it. Evans endeavored to enlist the help of these operators in the work of testing and calibrating the apparatus; but he found that more than half of them, although supposedly radio-compass specialists, were utterly useless for the task. Their teachers, being inexperienced in the psychology of the student, had failed to impart the essentials, except to those of more than average intelligence; and, what made matters worse, the laboratory instruction had not approximated the actual conditions aboard ship. Even if the principles had been grasped, the operator found them difficult to apply under conditions so remotely resembling those of the laboratory. Evidently, to send these men out in charge of the radio compass aboard ship would mean the failure of the apparatus in about fifty per cent of the cases in which its use would be required.
It was clear that the course should not only be improved, but should be supplemented by practical instruction aboard ship. Evans conferred with Lieutenant-Commander Elkins, and suggested to him that a motor-boat be equipped with a radio compass and that the operators be taken out on her and given practice in reporting the bearing of a transmitting station as the motor-boat steered an irregular, zigzag course. Aside from the advantage of instruction and practice under actual working conditions, the fitness of a man for radio-compass duty could thus be readily determined. At first they should practice on a transmitting station sending signals continuously, and thus facilitating the readings by giving them plenty of time for their observations; next, they should assay the more difficult task of taking bearings when the transmitting station sent only brief messages. Naval experts have pointed out that the enemy, knowing that his signals will probably be used to locate him by means of the radio compass, will make his messages as brief as possible, in order to render difficult the work of direction-finding; hence the importance of training the operators by calling on them to take bearings with messages of ever-increasing brevity.
Elkins endeavored to arrange through the “usual channels” to have a motor-boat assigned to the Bureau of Engineering for this important training duty. But in this he met obstacles. Those who had control of the available motor-boats were not interested, and did not see the need of it; furthermore, Commander Rich told him Admiral Bishop felt that any training of operators beyond what was already provided would be quite unnecessary. Elkins told Evans the discouraging result of his effort.
“What damn nonsense!” said Evans, frowning. “There needs to be a demand for efficient operators that will make itself felt enough to shake loose some of the stiff joints of this organization.” Then, after a pause, “Maybe the demand will come.”
That evening Mortimer heard the whole story.
“I guess it will be a simple matter for me to arrange to have a motor-boat set aside for this work,” he said to Evans.
“Wouldn’t it be better not to have them get the idea that I have a ‘drag’?” said Evans. “Then, too, sequelæ embarrassing to Elkins might result if such an order came through just after his request had been turned down. There’s a better way than that. Isn’t it about time for you to decide that you want to determine whether the radio-compass machinery—material and personnel—is up to the important task required of it? You could order a practical test—a board appointed to make it—and for samples of the goods, eight or ten operators just through the compass course, selected at random, aboard a destroyer with the gear just installed. Let ’em show what they can do with signals sent from various bearings. Make them come across quick with the test so that there won’t be time for any one to cheat it by giving the operators special training. I am confident this test will show that something is lacking. Then let us have some men along who know a radio compass when they see it, to show what the gear can do if you understand it, lest perchance the apparatus be condemned instead of the poor boobs that are miscalled experts.”
It seemed altogether natural when a few days later the Secretary of the Navy appointed a board to conduct a test of the radio compass and the men assigned to operate it, under the nearest possible approach to service conditions. Ten operators just from their special course were to report on board a destroyer whose radio compass had recently been installed. Three patrol boats were to maneuver about her and each one in turn was to send signals for one minute. Thus the radio signals would come from unexpected angles. The operator was to be shut into the radio-compass shack, so that he couldn’t see the patrol boats, and was to report the bearing by voice-tube to the bridge as soon as he had determined it. Then the Bureau of Engineering was to select for comparison four operators known to be really familiar with the radio compass, to take bearings on the same patrol boats after the new operators had completed their test, in order that a fair basis might be established for judging the operators as prepared by the special course.
When this order became known, Elkins was delighted. “Now is our chance,” he said to Evans, “to have this thing properly tested, and we’ll know whether those boys need some practical drilling or not.”
Together they picked the four best men among the radio chiefs who had been helping with the radio compasses, and made sure that when it came to their part of the test they would not be found wanting.
On the appointed day the destroyer steamed out into Chesapeake Bay accompanied by the three patrol boats. Secretary Mortimer was on board, for he deemed the experiment important enough to warrant his personal observation. Admiral Bishop, Commander Rich, and Elkins had come to represent the Bureau of Engineering, and Elkins had obtained permission to bring Evans to be sure that the gear was in working order.
Commander Rich was almost constantly at Mortimer’s side, talking with him pleasantly or earnestly as seemed most fitting at the moment. He spoke of the value of a broad sense of proportion in naval matters.
“Some people,” he said, “can’t see anything outside their own little problems. A man in charge of a thing like this radio compass, for example, is apt to think it’s the most important thing in the whole navy, and everything else should give way before it. I believe a man should see the problem as a whole. Now take my case: I’m in charge of radio, but it would be silly of me to fancy that radio was the most important thing in the whole organization. I recognize that Admiral Bishop has a much wider vision, that radio is only one small part of a colossal machine, and I am ready to defer to the needs of gunnery and the like when occasion demands.”
In preparation for the test, Evans had to come up on the bridge to confer with Elkins. Encountering Commander Rich, he saw in his face a look of scorn as this keen-looking officer eyed him in his dungarees, and in the look he fancied he saw, too, something more sinister than scorn. It haunted him as he returned to the radio compass, but with an effort he dismissed the thought, convincing himself that it was probably the result of pique in his own rather sensitive nature.
Commander Rich, watching Evans swinging himself nimbly up the ladder to the radio-compass shack, remarked jovially to Mortimer, “Looks to me like that gunner had a little of that monkey-gland extract you read about, the way he goes climbing round the ship.”
And when during the subsequent stages of the test Evans appeared, Commander Rich was ever ready, if the chance offered, to drop a sarcastic remark about the “monkey-man.”
Admiral Bishop had some difficulty engineering his portly form up the steep ladder leading to the destroyer’s bridge. It would be hard to find anywhere, on land or sea, a scene more vividly expressive of human efficiency than is presented by the bridge of a warship executing a maneuver even of the simplest sort. Officers, signalmen, and helmsman, alert and intent on the perfect team-work needed to fit the operation of the ship into the working of the larger machine, the fleet, execute their orders in a way that testifies to the high character of their training. Into such a scene came Admiral Bishop with all his pomp, as the signals were being sent which directed the patrol boats to their stations.
When all was ready for the test, the patrol boats circled round the destroyer at a distance of a mile or so, and first one, then another, was signaled to send messages. First, the operators just graduated from the special radio-compass course were tested. Each man was given three bearings to report, one on each patrol boat. The first operator to be tested nervously entered the radio-compass house, wondering if his fate hung on his performance, and fumbled for a while with the somewhat unfamiliar apparatus. Finally he tuned in the patrol boat signal, and then, as he twirled the hand-wheel which rotates the coil, he became confused, and before he could gather his wits he realized that his minute was up and he had reported no bearing. On his second and third bearings he made a little progress, but the results were considerably in error. As he took off the head-phones and stepped out of the house, he said to the chief radio operator of the destroyer, “That don’t sound nothing like what they give us to learn on in the course. It’s all so different I couldn’t make nothing of it.” The next man, awaiting his turn, heard the remark and profited somewhat by it. He obtained a rough bearing each time just before his minute was up. Out of the ten operators tested, only three gave even a respectable performance.
Admiral Bishop had but a hazy idea of the nature of the test which was being made. When he first came on the bridge, he got into conversation with the skipper of the destroyer, who fortunately had his officers well enough indoctrinated to operate the ship and carry on the test without his personal attention. The Admiral, having been on shore duty for several years, coming once more on shipboard, was reminded of cruises of long years ago. His talk became one of reminiscence about the good old days. It was not until the test of the ten operators was nearly finished that he became aware that it had begun. Commander Rich then explained to him just how the test was being conducted.
“You see the patrol boat out there is sending us signals. Down there in the radio-compass house aft, the operator is taking the bearing he gets on the signal as it comes in. He reports it to us here on the bridge by voice-tube. At the same time the navigating officer here is noting the actual bearing of the patrol boat by eye with the pelorus, to see whether the radio bearing is right.”
About this time the last of the ten operators completed his test, and the results were displayed before Admiral Bishop, revealing clearly their unsatisfactory performance.
“Seems to me this radio compass doesn’t show up very well in service conditions, Mr. Secretary,” said the Admiral. “That’s the way with a lot of these gadgets; they’re all right on paper and in the laboratory, but on board ship they don’t cut much figure.”
“We have still to see the second part of the test,” answered Mortimer. “The fault may be in the gear or in the operators; I want to find out which.”
One of the men picked by the Bureau was then sent into the compass house. The signal was given for the sending to begin and in twenty seconds he reported by voice-tube, “Sixty-five.”
“That looks like business,” said the skipper of the destroyer. “How is it?” addressing the question to his navigator, who with his eye at the sighting vane of the pelorus followed the course of the patrol boat.
“She’s bearing sixty-four,” was the answer.
“Right to within one degree. Will he do it again?” said the skipper.
In five successive tests this operator reported the bearings with an average error of less than one degree, and his reports were delivered to the bridge with increasing promptness.
A signal to the patrol boats ordered the time of sending reduced to thirty seconds. The three remaining picked men then showed what they could do, and the greatest error was two degrees. On average barely eighteen seconds elapsed from the time the signals began till the report was heard on the bridge.
Admiral Bishop was now following the proceedings with interest and began to see what an accurate instrument the radio compass was when in competent hands, but his imagination was not keen enough to envisage the possibilities which it opened. The skipper of the destroyer was the first to propose a more spectacular demonstration.
“Let’s have him steer us to one of the boats,” he said.
A signal was made to the patrol boat on the port quarter to send signals continuously till further notice. The operator, when told what he was to do, listened a moment, revolving the coil and manipulating the switches, then called to the bridge, “Left rudder.” The officer of the deck passed the word to the helmsman, and as the ship swung round till the signaling patrol boat bore dead ahead, the voice from the radio-compass house called, “Steady as you go.” It looked like witchcraft, this guidance of the ship by an unseen and sightless power unerringly toward the source of the silent ether waves. As the patrol boat bore away to starboard, the operator kept the destroyer following her with her bow till, bearing down on her at eighteen knots, they were only a hundred yards from the little boat, when the skipper said, “Left rudder,” and the destroyer shot past the smaller boat within a stone’s throw.
Admiral Bishop, watching this exhibition, grasped for the first time what it really meant. As the unfailing precision with which the destroyer tracked her quarry became more and more apparent, his enthusiasm grew till his eyes fairly sparkled with delight. He shook hands with Commander Rich and congratulated him heartily on the splendid equipment which his division had installed in the ships.
After that it was only natural that, when the report of the test had been made, a motor-boat equipped with a radio compass should be set aside for the drilling of operators. And in the wake of this reform there naturally followed similar methods for the drilling of personnel in the use of hydrophones of all sorts, and all manner of special apparatus.
About a fortnight after this convincing demonstration on Chesapeake Bay, theSheridan, a brand-new scout cruiser, was steaming back to the Boston Navy Yard after making her speed trial at Rockland, Maine. She was the first of a new batch of scout cruisers being rushed to completion, and in speed and every other important essential for this type of craft she was the last word. She was, of course, equipped with a radio compass of the latest model, and before the trip to Rockland this had been carefully tested and calibrated. In view of the importance attached to this apparatus since the demonstration on the Chesapeake, a radio gunner named Long had been sent by the Bureau of Engineering to stay on board throughout this trip and check the work of the operators to be sure that both they and the apparatus were dependable for purposes of navigation. On the way to Rockland, Long had seized every opportunity of taking bearings on stations along the coast. The results had delighted the navigator, who saw that in every case he could depend on the bearings given.
Now, on the return trip, the navigator had occasion to be especially glad of the pains Long had taken, for a thick fog shut in soon after they passed Monhegan Island; every adjunct that could help him in his important duty of fixing the ship’s position was more than welcome.
Late in the afternoon the captain, the navigator, and the officer of the deck stood on the bridge straining their eyes ahead into the dense, wet fog.
“Captain,” said the navigator, “I think we’d better get some radio-compass bearings; my dead-reckoning shows us about ten miles from Cape Ann, and we don’t want to go much closer without checking our position.”
“Very well,” said the captain, “you may instruct the radio room to get the bearings.”
A signal was sent out, and in less than five minutes a full report from the radio room was handed to the officer of the deck on the bridge. It read as follows:
Cape Cod reports bearing 338°, Gloucester reports bearing 73°, Fourth Cliff radio compass temporarily out of commission; ship’s own radio compass gives bearing of Boston Navy Yard transmitter 242°.
Cape Cod reports bearing 338°, Gloucester reports bearing 73°, Fourth Cliff radio compass temporarily out of commission; ship’s own radio compass gives bearing of Boston Navy Yard transmitter 242°.
With alacrity the navigator plotted on the chart the position thus given.
“This shows us five miles south-southeast of our dead-reckoning,” he said to the captain.
“Are those bearings dependable?” was the reply.
“Our radio compass has been giving us bearings accurate to within one degree without fail ever since we left Boston, and the shore stations are regularly dependable to within less than that. Besides, we have here three bearings and they check each other reasonably close, making the fix practically a certainty.”
“Have them repeated,” said the skipper.
“Aye, aye, sir.”
The message was sent and in three minutes a report was received corroborating the previous bearings.
“How do you account for the error in dead-reckoning?” asked the captain.
“I don’t know,” said the navigator; “but you remember the seven destroyers that went aground on the Pacific coast in 1923 because they ignored the radio-compass bearings and trusted their dead-reckoning.”
“That’s right,” said the skipper; “we can’t afford to do that. What about sounding?”
“That wouldn’t help us much here, the bottom’s too irregular.”
They looked at the chart together for a minute.
“Give us a course that will pick up the whistling buoy off Thatcher’s Island from this last fix,” said the skipper.
The navigator plotted the course, and the order was given, at which the ship swung a point and a half to the northward.
The speed of the ship had already been reduced to fifteen knots which on a ship in the habit of cruising at twenty-five, and capable of forty, seemed like a snail’s pace. There was not much more than an hour of daylight left, and making a landfall in fog and twilight is nasty business; so the captain was loath to slow down any more. But the fog shut in thicker till the bow could barely be seen from the bridge; a hundred yards marked the limit of visibility ahead. At fifteen knots a hundred yards is traversed in very few seconds; caution therefore constrained the captain to reduce speed to twelve knots. The lithe ship seemed to be crawling through the water.
Forty minutes passed. All eyes looked forward into the thick blanket of fog which seemed to paralyze the sense of sight. Captain and navigator paced nervously to and fro, looking now at the chart and then again into the gray void. The leaden sky began to darken visibly.
“We’ve gone eight miles since we changed course,” said the navigator; “we ought to hear that whistle, we could hear it two miles in any direction.”
“You’d better get some more bearings,” said the captain.
At that moment the lookout in the bow shouted, “Surf ahead.”
The captain sprang to the engine-room telegraph and jerked back the lever calling for full speed astern. In two seconds, which seemed an eternity, the whole ship began to shake as the turbines backed water with all their power. But a seven-thousand-ton ship even at twelve knots cannot be brought to a standstill instantly, and just as the breakers ahead became visible to the anxious eyes on the bridge, there was a hideous, grinding crash and shock.
To the skipper and navigator it was like the crack of doom—the death-knell of their careers, for with a horrible sickness in their hearts they knew they had driven one of Uncle Sam’s finest ships ashore on an exposed and dangerous coast. TheSheridanwas hard aground on the north end of a reef known as “the Salvages,” just off the Rockport breakwater, some three miles north of Thatcher’s Island.
The coolness, self-possession, and resourcefulness which these officers and those under them showed in handling this disastrous situation, which confronted them with overwhelming suddenness, was to their eternal credit and to that of the navy. Fortunately, the sea was not heavy and no difficulty was found in getting the crew safely off the ship. Salvage operations were promptly begun, and in a few days the Sheridan was pulled off the reef and towed to the Navy Yard where the extensive repairs and rebuilding of her bow were begun.
When the board of inquiry met to investigate the cause of the disaster, it was clearly revealed that the navigator’s dead-reckoning had been correct, that the radio-compass bearings, which showed the ship to be five miles south-southeast of the dead-reckoning position, must have been in error, and that trusting these bearings and changing course to the northward had caused the ship to run aground.
Mortimer held a conference with Commander Rich.
“You can’t trust these gadgets,” said Rich, speaking of the radio compass. “There’s a dangerous tendency among some officers to rely on a thing like this because it works well once. You see what happens:—one day it works beautifully, the next day it puts your best cruiser on the beach. If I were you I wouldn’t waste another dollar installing such gear; it will be leading to a false sense of security, and will wreck some more ships.”
With the wreck of theSheridanstaring Mortimer in the face, Commander Rich’s logic seemed to him convincing. When Evans heard of this, he was sorely troubled.
“See here, Sam,” he said, “this radio compass is a thing that has been working for twenty years, guiding our ships safely into harbors in thick weather. Look at the possibilities it has in naval warfare! To go and scrap it because of one bad fix would be like throwing overboard all your guns because of one wild shot.”
“Commander Rich says it’s not dependable and is apt to cause more wrecks,” said Mortimer; “and Commander Rich is one of the keenest and wisest men in the navy.”
“He’s a jackass if he tells you to give up this valuable instrument. There’s some definite reason why those bearings were wrong, and the reason ought to be looked for and found.”
“I don’t like the way you speak of Commander Rich. I count on him in matters of practical engineering more than on almost any one.”
Evans was silent a moment, frowning and fingering a paper-weight restlessly.
“I wish you’d let me go to Boston myself and examine theSheridan’sradio compass, and the one in the shore station at Gloucester that gave the wrong bearing. I believe I could find out something.”
“I don’t see that it would do any good,” said Mortimer. “Besides, you’re needed for your work right here in the Bureau.”
“I’m doing nothing in the Bureau half so important as getting the truth on this matter. If I can find out why the apparatus failed and show how to prevent its failure in future, and thereby restore your confidence in it, I’ll have done the biggest job for the navy that I can ever hope to do.”
“If Commander Rich thinks it worth while to send you there, well and good,” said Mortimer.
“Commander Rich would never send me. He has disliked me ever since that scene we had over the British vacuum-tube transmitter. He’d turn down a request like that just for the sake of snubbing me, even if he saw the point in my going, which he wouldn’t. The only way is to have orders come from some one above him. For God’s sake, Sam, give this thing a chance. Let me get up there and see what happened.”
His earnestness startled Mortimer and recalled the deep trust in his friend that he had always felt, and at last he yielded. It was arranged that Evans should receive orders which would enable him to visit the radio compasses around Boston and to go aboard theSheridan, now being repaired there.
First Evans visited the station at Fourth Cliff near Scituate, the station which on the fateful day had been reported out of commission. He learned that during the entire day of the wreck the operators had been unable to make the apparatus work. The next morning a careful examination had revealed a loose connection which had resulted in an open circuit. It was the kind of thing that might easily result from undue haste in installing the gear.
At Gloucester he questioned the operators closely. They could not account for the error in the bearings they had given to theSheridan, both of them having proved to be some sixteen degrees off. The apparatus had been giving accurate bearings for years; they used it on that day just as they always had, and since that day it had been tested and recalibrated, and had proved to be in perfect condition and giving just as accurate bearings as it always had. Evans examined the apparatus himself with the greatest care. Nothing was amiss; it certainly was in perfect working order and adjustment. He was mystified; he could find no possible clue to this sudden and disastrous lapse. At all events, the gear was working well now, and the operators on their guard against mistakes.
On theSheridanEvans found the radio compass apparently in good order. But when he had signals sent from a station near by and tested the gear in actual use, he found the bearings which it indicated always eight degrees to the right of what they should be. He then examined the circular scale from which the readings were taken and found it eight degrees out of alignment with the coil.
“That’s a rank bit of installation,” he said to the operator in charge of the apparatus. “I thought you’d been getting good bearings with it all along the coast before you went aground.”
“We did,” said the operator.
“How could you? The scale is eight degrees out.”
“It must have slipped.”
Evans took hold of the scale and found it securely fixed in position. He looked carefully for any possible obstruction which might have caught on it as the coil was rotated and forced it round on the shaft, but he found none.
“I don’t see how it could have slipped; it’s on tight enough,” he said.
The operator shrugged his shoulders.
“Are you sure no one made any adjustments here that day?” Evans asked.
“I know I didn’t, and I’m pretty sure my mate didn’t, but I’ll ask him. We were the only ones in here except Gunner Long who came from the Bureau to see that the gear was working. He was here in the shack and sent me to get some wire or something from the main radio room an hour or so before we struck. I was gone only two or three minutes, and that was the only time I was out of the shack all the forenoon. I stayed here till the order came to abandon ship and we all got into the boats.”
His mate, the other radio-compass operator, was sent for, and corroborated his story as far as his own watch was concerned. Evans was baffled. But it was a simple matter to set the apparatus right. He reset the circular scale in its proper position; and he nearly broke his screwdriver tightening the set-screw which held it in position, to be sure it did not “slip” again.
When he returned to Washington to report on his findings, his task was not easy. Elkins, with whom he discussed the matter, was entirely sympathetic. A peculiar combination of circumstances had wrecked the ship. The one time in years when the Gloucester station failed to give accurate bearings happened to coincide with an unaccountable slipping of the scale on the Sheridan’s radio compass. Such a combination of mishaps was not likely to occur again in a generation. It would be absurd to abandon anything so obviously useful because of it. Mortimer was still skeptical, and inclined to follow the advice of Rich, but Evans drove home his point with such earnestness and force, as they discussed it by Mortimer’s study fire, backing up his argument with Elkins’s concurrence, that Mortimer finally said he would allow installation of the gear to continue for the present. But he considered it on trial; any more serious failures or disasters, and the radio compass would be discarded as far as any active use of it in warfare was concerned.
One day, soon after his return to Washington from Boston, Evans talked with Commander Barton of the Bureau of Intelligence about the peculiar mishap, and his failure to explain just how it occurred. When he mentioned his investigation of the Gloucester station, and finding the apparatus there in perfect order, Barton said, “Did you ask them who had been in the station that day or the day before?”
“No, I didn’t think of that,” said Evans; “I was looking for trouble in the apparatus.”
“I should say that was the first thing to find out,” said Barton.
That evening Evans did some hard thinking, and went to bed a wiser man.
Barton sent one of his best officers to Boston to visit the stations at Gloucester and Fourth Cliff, and conduct a bit of research along somewhat different lines from those Evans had followed. What this officer told Barton on his return he kept to himself. For a long, long time he did not speak of it to another living soul except Admiral Rallston, Chief of the Bureau of Naval Intelligence.
As the winter months wore on, the navy’s main task was escorting the great convoys across the ocean and thus enabling the armies of Northern Europe to hold their line. But the navy was preparing for larger things than escort duty. The enemy submarine base at the Azores proved to be a constant menace; from it submarines would come out in force, and sometimes succeed in sinking ships and escaping unharmed from the depth charges of the escort.
At Punta Delgada, the capital port of the Azores, the enemy had for some years been building a giant breakwater to create a harbor far bigger than that which sheltered American destroyers and submarines in 1918 when this port was in friendly hands. Work was now being rushed to complete this greater harbor, and with it docking facilities that would make the base more efficient in the maintenance of extensive submarine operations.
The nearest Allied base to the Azores was Berehaven on the Irish coast, and from here a British airplane carrier went out from time to time, cruising southwest to within two hundred miles of Punta Delgada, whence just before dawn she would launch into the air two or three high-speed aeroplanes equipped only with their machine guns and cameras of the most perfect type for long-distance photography. When the first rays of the rising sun struck the harbor and port works of Punta Delgada, revealing all details through the contrast of light and shadow, with a brilliance of relief which is lost when the sun is high, these planes, soaring at an altitude too great for the eyes of the drowsy watchers, would take their pictures and fly away unseen to the waiting mother ship. The optical system in these cameras was a marvel of design, and when the photographs were studied under the lens in London and Washington, it was not difficult to follow in detail the work of perfecting the submarine base.
By the end of the winter this photographic study had revealed that the breakwater was practically complete, and the docks almost ready for the opening of more extensive submarine operations; moreover, coast-defense guns and vast stores of ordnance and engineering material had been accumulated, and all was in readiness for the building of powerful defenses which would make the seizure of the port difficult in the extreme. Now was the time to attack, before the great coast-defense guns were mounted and ready for use. The American Navy, which had suffered from the peace-time shortage of personnel, was now adequately manned and ready for aggressive action. A consolidation with the British and French ships was effected, and in March the attempt was made to seize Punta Delgada. The Mediterranean Powers deemed it unwise to risk their capital ships for the defense of this point, and kept them safe in the Mediterranean. After a brief resistance, the Azores fell into the hands of the Allies. The enemy had done the lion’s share of the work of preparing a first-class base with the strongest kind of defenses. The materials were there, and it was a comparatively easy task for the Americans and British to assemble them after their own pattern. The loss of this valuable base was extremely annoying to the enemy, but as long as their fleet remained intact within the shelter of the Mediterranean Sea they felt secure in their control of the great resources on which they pinned their faith.
Following the advantage gained by possession of the Azores, the Allied forces soon took Madeira and the Canary Islands, both bases being less strongly defended than the Azores. The Cape Verde Islands thus were virtually cut off from their base, and surrendered before long without resistance.