The Boy Scouts on a Submarine Part 17

The boys turned in.

It seemed about fifteen minutes when Porky sat up. Beany was leaning down from the upper berth.

"Did you call me?" he asked.

"No, I thought you called me," said Porky.

"All right," said Beany. He swung to the floor. "Hustle and dress. I bet some thing is on foot."

He hustled himself into his clothes and was ready as soon as Porky, who considered himself the record dresser. Together they slipped through the dark pa.s.sage and went up on deck. The Firefly fled like a wild thing, cutting a swift path through a rough and choppy sea.

They went forward. Motionless, a dark blur against the sky line, they saw the lookout, his eyes searching the waste. Scudding clouds were ma.s.sing in the east. A storm was on the way. The boys walked the length of the steamer and leaned over the stern, where the water boiled furiously away from the propeller. Close beside them another watch silently studied the surface of the sea. The night lifted a little. It was nearly dawn. The boys felt depressed. Porky turned and studied the sky in the east; Beany kept his keen eyes on the water behind the Firefly.

Suddenly be clutched his brother's arm.

"See! See!" he cried. "Where that patch of white shows! She's coming! Look! Look!"

The gla.s.s of the lookout swept the waves. "Nothing there," he said gruffly. Then with a gasp he cried loudly, "Torpedo port; torpedo port!"

Porky saw a slim, swift something cleaving the water. It made straight for the s.h.i.+p. His reason told him that it would strike; he grasped his brother by the arm. "The Colonel!" he cried and made for the cabins below.

Their hurried descent was broken by a terrific crash which threw them headlong. They scrambled to their feet and, gaining the Colonel's door, burst it open.

"Quick, quick, Colonel!" they cried.

They bustled him up the companionway. The little Firefly had already listed heavily to port when another torpedo struck her with shattering force. She rocked back and forth, striving to right herself. The boats were being lowered. The Captain called for the Colonel, and insisted on his entering the largest lifeboat. Two other boats were already crowded and launched.

The Firefly settled with a sickening motion.

"All off!" cried the Captain. He glanced over the deserted s.h.i.+p, and jumped for the boat the Colonel was sitting in. As he landed a bulky parcel shot past him, and landed at the colonel's feet.

Then another bundle sailed accurately through the air. The first was the Colonel's uniform; the second, his great top-coat. On the slanting, s.h.i.+vering deck the twins stood looking down, yelling madly. "Put on your clothes!" Porky was frantically calling.

"Look in the pockets!" called Beany.

The Captain stood up with a despairing gesture. "Jump!" he commanded.

The boys nodded, but instead of obeying, they disappeared behind the cabin. For a moment the men rested on their oars, then at a command from the Captain they pulled furiously away from the sinking s.h.i.+p which threatened to engulf them as she went down.

However, they had gained a safe distance before the doomed vessel, rocking back and forth, gained a dreadful momentum, showed her splintered and shattered hull as if in mute excuse for her action, and disappeared forever in the engulfing sea.

The Captain stood looking at the place were the vessel had disappeared.

Colonel Bright buried his face in his hands.

"Gone!" he groaned. "What shall I say to their people?" He choked as he put on the clothes the boys had rescued and thrown after him. He felt in the pocket of the coat as Beany had yelled for him to do. It held a water-proof belt stuffed with chocolate and malted milk tablets. Again he groaned.

"What ailed them? Why didn't they jump?" he asked. Over and over again he asked the question but there was no one to answer.

In the distance the other boats were working toward the east.

Far the other side of where the doomed boat had gone down, they could see the gray back of the submarine, now lying on the surface. Strangely enough, she did not try to pursue or sh.e.l.l them. The men at the oars rowed furiously to escape. The wind rose, and the rain, which had been drizzling down, commenced to fall in torrents. It made a s.h.i.+eld as enveloping as a heavy fog.

The submarine was not to be seen, and they, of course, were hidden from her. Hour after hour the rain fell; and all the men rowed, taking turns at the heavy oars. The Colonel sat silent.

He could not forget the young gallant pair gone down with the s.h.i.+p, two splendid lives snuffed out in an hour.

Night came to the drenched, hungry men a time of torture. In the morning, the Colonel divided a part of the chocolate, which restored a portion of strength to the rowers. So another day dragged toward its close. The rain had stopped, and a hot sun had dried their clothing. They were beginning to feel the pangs of thirst, but the h.o.a.rd of chocolate and malted milk tablets mercifully held out. In the far, far distance they could see one of the other boats. The others were gone. Where, they could not tell.

Then at dawn happened the miracle. Out of the dusk a big s.h.i.+p seemed to take form. She was miles away, but to their eyes, growing accustomed only to the unrelenting stretch of sea and sky, she seemed to loom over them.

As it grew lighter, they could see that she was a huge transport with her convoys about her.

Carl Coggins leaped to a seat, tearing off a silk s.h.i.+rt as he did so. He ran a big oar through the sleeves and waved it wildly.

"I have always wanted to do this," he cried. "Now you see why I wouldn't wear a service s.h.i.+rt under my tunic!"

"Wave ahead!" said the Colonel. "Here's hoping they see you!"

The little boatful anxiously watched the great s.h.i.+p and her convoys. Would she pause?

CHAPTER XIII

A SUBMARINE FLIES A FLAG OF TRUCE

Furiously Carl waved his white flag, Every eye was fastened on the distant shape. A cry went up from the men in the little boat.

"They see us--they see us!"

They renewed their rowing with all their remaining strength, as though the great s.h.i.+p laying to in the distance might suddenly start away.

But instead they saw a couple of boats put off--motor-boats that cut their way furiously through the water and soon reached them.

A word of explanation from the Captain of the Firefly to the young officer in charge of the motor-boat, and they were taken in tow, while the exhausted oarsmen leaned heavily on their oars, and every heart sent up a prayer of thanksgiving.

The transport was the one they had been trying to overtake, and Colonel Bright's own men met him with cheers and sobs as he was a.s.sisted on deck. He and the others were hurried below where they were put under the care of the s.h.i.+p's doctor.

A search now began for the remaining boats. It was not until just before dark that the powerful gla.s.ses in the hands of one of the lookout men discovered some small specks far to starboard.

It was the missing boats. As soon as they, with their loads of suffering men, had been taken on board, the transport and her convoys, wrapped in darkness, plunged forward through the gathering night.

They were approaching the danger zone.

The following day, the Colonel was himself again. He had been too long a soldier to let the loss of the two boys, dear as they were, completely crush him. They were lost; it was the fortune of war. They were lost as thousands of other young, splendid fellows had been lost; and although the Colonel could scarcely bear to think of the grief of the poor mother back home when she should learn of the loss of her two idolized sons, he put the picture behind him. Here was a transport full of men, his own command largely, and a deep anxiety beset him when he looked over the sea, searching its surface for a glimpse of a telltale periscope.

He fell to watching the convoys with their bristling guns and the intricate tackle used in this modern game of war at sea. They looked capable, every inch of them, and deadly in their efficiency. Yet occasionally the deadly U-boat claimed one of these as a victim. Once more his eyes roved over the big transport.

It was packed and jammed with men. They were quartered in every possible place. Happy, jolly fellows, full of the finest courage in the world, ready for anything, eager for the next adventure, meeting victory with modesty, accepting disaster with a smile.

The rails on each side of the s.h.i.+p were lined with men watching, watching like himself, yet with a difference.

The Colonel smiled as he guessed the eagerness with which they hoped for a sight of a submarine. Not a man of them there wanted to drown, but he wanted to see a sub, and with the hopefulness of his character he felt that the chances were good for getting away before any damage was done.

Still thinking of the boys he had loved so well, he leaned once more over the rail, his sad blue eyes searching the sea. Waves and sky; waves and sky; a gull in the distance but nothing else.

For an hour he stood there thinking, forgetful of his promise to go below, staring about, searching the vastness for a sign of the danger that lurked everywhere, the terrible U-boats; but he looked and saw nothing. Another night pa.s.sed but as the day dawned, a sudden warning call sounded through the s.h.i.+p, and peering through his porthole, the Colonel saw the long, slim shape of a torpedo whizzing toward the great s.h.i.+p. It was badly aimed and as it pa.s.sed harmlessly on, a thunder of guns shattered the peace of the morning. The Colonel rushed on deck. As he did so, he saw the turret of a U-boat between the transport and her nearest convoy sink out of sight. Again the guns spoke as the boat went down. The periscope of the sub wavered and leaned far out of true. Another torpedo cut the water and struck the transport a glancing blow, doing but little damage. The two convoys were now busy with another U-boat that had attacked them.