Dave Darrin and the German Submarines Part 13

For the next five minutes Dave sat, alternately scanning the message and studying the appearance of the bottle. At last he looked up at his brother officers.

"Mr. Phelps, you will make it your next duty to search Jordan's effects.

In his duffle bag or hammock s.p.a.ce you may find more of these bottles.

If you do not, you will extend your search further, as your judgment dictates. If there are any more of these bottles on board I wish them found and turned over to me."

After the ensign had gone Dan drew on his sheepskin.

"After this spy scare," he announced, "I'm off to make an inspection.

Perhaps I may find something connected with this matter."

"If you go by the brig, Danny-boy, you might tell Jordan that at any time when he wants to open up and speak the truth he may send in word."

"Very good, sir."

Left by himself Darrin went to a filing case, turned to "J" and brought forth Jordan's descriptive card. This is a card that contains full information as to an enlisted man's name, his age, a personal description, extent and kind of service, education, qualifications, disciplinary record, the grades in which he has served, the ships and sh.o.r.e stations on or at which he has served, and more information along similar lines.

Jordan's card showed that the arrested man had joined the Navy five years before, as an apprentice, at the age of nineteen; his work had always been well done; he had never been in serious trouble; his reputation was good. His home address was given and the names of his parents stated.

"No help from this source," Dave mused, as he returned the card to its proper place in the drawer. "a.s.suming that Jordan is guilty, then Jordan is not his real name, and he's really a German, not an American. For Jordan's treachery might cause the sudden destruction of this craft, and no American, no matter how bad, would sell out for mere money when he knew his treachery was likely to result in his own sudden death. No American, good, bad or indifferent, would be capable of such devotion to Germany, but a German would. Therefore I suspect that Jordan is really a German, who enlisted under a false name. It may even be that German authorities, foreseeing the coming of the war, and suspecting that the United States might be drawn into it, ordered this young fellow to enlist in peace times that he might be at hand as a spy when trouble did break out. If that is true of Jordan, I wonder how many other German spies also succeeded in enlisting in our Navy before Germany went to war at all? Jupiter, but that's a startling question! For that matter, have we other German spies aboard the 'Logan?'"

The idea was enough to cause Darrin to settle back in his chair, a prey to rushing thoughts.

CHAPTER VIII

THE BATTLE FOR THE TROOPSHIP FLEET

Earlier that same evening a group of Uncle Sam's soldiers stood at the bow of a steamship. Back of them, on the spar deck, other groups lined the rails on both sides.

For some minutes there had been silence, but at last one of the group in the bow spoke.

"Late to-night I expect that we shall enter the outer edge of the Danger Zone."

"If the Huns and their subs are there to meet us it will kill a lot of the monotony," declared another soldier.

"I wonder if the Huns will put up any real excitement for us in that line," said a third.

"Getting nervous, Pete?" asked the first speaker, with a short laugh.

"Not a bit," replied Pete, hiding a yawn with his left hand.

"Nothing to get nervous about," spoke up a fourth soldier. "The Huns are bully at sinking unarmed freighters, but so far, if they know anything about getting convoyed troopships they haven't used much of their knowledge."

"Still, they do get a troopship once in a while," spoke up another soldier, in a serious tone. "They may get us."

"Won't amount to much if they do," declared Pete, boldly. "Some of us would get off in the boats, and the rest of us would drop into the water with our life-belts on. Then we'd soon be picked up by a destroyer and we'd be all right again. Pooh! This so-called submarine 'menace' makes me tired. With all their submarines and all their bl.u.s.ter the Huns don't do enough damage to our troopships to make it worth all the bother they have to take."

"Anybody going to stay awake all night, to see if we get it during the dark hours?" inquired another.

"No; what's the use? If we don't get hit there is no use in losing our sleep. If we do get hit there's always plenty of time for the men to turn out and fit their life-belts on."

"If I thought we'd be attacked during the dark hours I'd like to stay up here on deck to-night and be on hand to see what happens when the attack comes," said a soldier in a group that was moving bow-ward from the port rail.

"Forget it," advised a corporal. "The guard would chase you below if you tried to stay on deck. After 'hammocks' is sounded no man is allowed on deck unless he is on duty. If there is an attack to-night the guard will have all the fun to divide with the forward gun-crew."

A young naval petty officer standing just behind the bow gun wheeled abruptly, eyeing the soldier lot.

"Don't you fellows get nervous," he said. "This is my seventh trip across on a troopship, and to date the only thing I've seen to shoot at is the barrel that is chucked overboard when we're to have target practice."

"Who's nervous?" demanded Pete.

"All of you," replied the bluejacket calmly.

"Don't you believe it!"

"That is not calling you cowards, either," the bluejacket continued.

"And let me give you a tip. If we're still afloat when daylight comes, don't any of you strain your eyesight looking for submarine conning towers sticking above the water. There won't be any. No matter how many subs there may be about, they know better than to expose themselves with so many destroyers around and all the troopships armed. The most that any Hun submarine commander would show would be a foot of slim periscope for a few seconds, and it would be so far away that no one but a fellow used to looking for such things would see it. Want my advice?"

"If it's any good," nodded the corporal.

"It's as good as can be had," retorted the young bluejacket. "Here is the line of thought for you. Unless you're detailed for guard or lookout duty, don't bother looking for subs at all. Don't even give any thought to them unless the attack starts. Keeping your mind off submarines will give you a better show to keep your hair from turning gray before you reach the trenches."

This troopship was one of the pair that led the fleet. A long double line of ships it was. Some of the vessels were of eight or nine thousand tons; others were smaller and still others much smaller. They moved in two lines that were widely separated, and even in the lines the intervals between ships looked long to a landsman. Ahead a torpedo boat destroyer of the United States Navy scurried briskly, often scooting off to one side of the course. Other destroyers were out to port or starboard, while one craft manned by vigilant officers and men brought up the rear of the long fleet.

Every now and then a destroyer, for no reason apparent to a landsman, darted between ships and took up a new post, or else turned and scurried back to its former relative position.

This fleet was the present ocean home of the One Hundred and Seventeenth Division, United States Army. On one of the ships the most important pa.s.senger was Major General Burton, division commander. On another troopship the "big man" was Brigadier General Quimby, commanding the Three Hundred and Twenty-second Infantry Brigade. Brigadier General Sefton's Three Hundred and Twenty-first Infantry Brigade was also with the fleet, along with Brigadier General Strong's brigade of one heavy field artillery regiment and two light field artillery batteries.

There were Engineers and Medical Corps units on the ships of this fleet, Quartermaster field transportation units, Signal Corps men, and units of various other auxiliary branches of the service. First and last, some twenty-four thousand officers and men of the Army. Some of the ships carried horses and mules, others tractors. Great quant.i.ties of ammunition of all types were carried by this fleet; stores of food and medicines, batteries of artillery, ambulances-in a word, all the vast quant.i.ties of equipment, ordnance, clothing and the other items that go to meet the demands of troops on foreign field service.

A really huge Armada it was, considering the actual number of fighting men that it carried. A dark, uncanny-looking fleet it was, too, with an air of stealth and secret enterprise that could not be dispelled.

Nowhere on any of the troopships did a light glow that could, by any possibility, be seen by those aboard another craft. Visible lights had been forbidden from the very moment that the ships had set sail from American ports.

To this rule of no visible lights the sole exception, occasionally to be observed, was the use of the red, white and blue electric lights that sometimes glowed briefly from the yard-arms of the vessels. These lights, slangily called "blinkers," convey necessary messages from one war craft to another at sea.

Nineteen thousand fighting men and some five thousand to serve them behind the fighting lines in France, were thus crossing the ocean, under dark skies, and with every ship in complete darkness. It was a weird sight, and Uncle Sam's soldiers aboard these ships had not yet gotten over the wonder of it.

All through the fleet, conversations as to the probability of submarine attack on the morrow, or on succeeding days, were infrequent and brief.

Hardly a soldier, however, was fooled by the absence of talk on the subject. Each soldier knew that he was thinking a good deal about the chances of the ship's being torpedoed on the high seas, and he knew, too, that his comrades were thinking of the same thing.

At last the bugles through the fleet softly sounded the call to turn in.

Nearly all of the men had remained up on deck this evening. Now they stole below, hurriedly making up their bunks, and as hurriedly undressing and getting in under the blankets before "taps" should sound.

And so the decks were left to the gun-crews, to the lookouts and the members of the guard posted there. Below, on the berth-decks, some of the soldiers slept little, if any, that night. Others went promptly and soundly asleep.