Dave Darrin and the German Submarines Part 14

It was on this same night that Lieutenant-Commander Dave Darrin was presently obliged to put out of his mind, as far as possible, further thought of the supposed treachery of Seaman Jordan, for they were on their way to the rendezvous where they were to meet the troopship fleet.

Dan Dalzell, as executive officer, came in breezily, saluting briskly and giving his cheery report as to the results of his inspection:

"All secure, sir."

Dave was on the bridge, with Lieutenant Briggs, when Ensign Phelps came to report that he had been unable to find any of the looked-for bottles in Jordan's duffle-bag or other effects, or, for that matter, anywhere else.

"Very good, Mr. Phelps. Thank you. I recommend that, until your watch is called, you get all the sleep you can. To-morrow there may be no sleep for any of us."

Later in the night cautious signals, "blinker" lights, were observed off the port quarter.

The "Logan," comprehending, replied with her own "blinkers." The two craft presently came closer, and after that kept each other company, for the destroyer "John Adams" was also bound for the rendezvous of the early morn.

Two hours before dawn Darrin gave the order to lie to. The "Adams" also stopped her engines, nearly, for the destroyers had reached the point of rendezvous. Soon afterward a third destroyer signalled and joined; not long after that a fourth. There were two more on hand before dawn.

Through the dark sky came three short, quick flashes of a searchlight.

It was the "Logan" that returned this signal. Then other signals were swiftly exchanged with the craft to the westward.

"The troopship fleet is going to be punctual to the minute," Darrin remarked to his watch officer.

"And our biggest time will be ahead of us, sir, I'm thinking," responded Lieutenant Briggs.

"In a way the big time will be welcome," smiled Dave. "Even if we are unfortunate enough to sustain some losses the Hun will get the worst of it."

"Why do you say that, sir?" Briggs inquired.

"Because, so far, in every encounter with naval vessels or troopships the Hun has seemed fated to get the worst of it."

In the east a pale light appeared in the sky. This slowly deepened. Then came the early red and orange tints of what promised to be a bright day.

"There's the troopship fleet!" cried Darrin, joyously. "The head of it anyway. We'll soon see more of it."

Lieutenant Briggs held his gla.s.s for a full thirty seconds on the first ships visible to the westward.

"And there goes our signal to join!" exclaimed Darrin, as bunting broke from the foremast of the leading destroyer with the fleet. "Acknowledge the signal, Mr. Briggs, and give the order for full speed ahead."

Racing westward went six torpedo boat destroyers to meet their comrades of the Navy and of the Army.

As they drew nearer, those on the destroyers could see a wild waving of hats by the soldiers crowding the decks of the leading transports. One moment the hat-waving was visible; then as suddenly it ceased, and the spar decks were nearly bare of men, for mess-call had sounded for breakfast. The only soldier who fails to answer mess call is a sick or a dead one.

"Follow second destroyer on port line," came the signal from the leading destroyer to the "Logan." "After taking position meet any emergency according to best judgment."

So the "Logan" raced along to the north of the fleet, then made a swift, curving sweep and moved into the a.s.signed position.

From the decks of the nearest transports, soldiers, as they returned from their meal, blithely waved their caps again. Cheering was forbidden, as such noise would drown out orders that might be given for the handling of the ship. But those Of Dave's jackies who could, waved back good-humoredly.

For some minutes after taking position, Darrin found himself running along with the troopship "c.u.mberland," and the distance between them was but a few hundred yards.

Dave had turned to watch the movements of the destroyer ahead in the line when he heard a starboard lookout call:

"Torpedo coming, sir, on the port beam!"

Like a flash Darrin wheeled to behold the oncoming trail.

Lieutenant Curtin, now on the bridge watch, gave quartermaster and engine-room swift orders, while Ensign Phelps signalled the "c.u.mberland."

Like a racehorse in full career, the "Logan" bounded forward and made a sharp turn to port. At the same time the "c.u.mberland" obliqued sharply to starboard.

On came the torpedo. The soldiers on the troopship deck watched its course with fascinated eyes.

The "Logan," having swerved enough only to clear the deadly missile, now darted in again, her nose striking what was left of the torpedo trail.

On she dashed, gun and bomb crews grimly waiting, every man on duty alert on the destroyer's decks.

Cutting the wind the "Logan" raced on her way, her bow throwing up a huge volume of water. Dave, on the bridge, saw his staunch little fighting craft near the starting end of the tell-tale torpedo trail. And there on the water, moving eastward and at right angles with the direction of the path, was an ill-defined, bulky something which, from the destroyer's bridge, looked like a submerged shadow.

Quickly rasping out a change in the course, Dave saw the "Logan"

overtake that shadow in a matter of seconds. The shadow was much less distinct now, for the sea pest was submerging to greater depth.

It was Darrin himself who seized the handle of the bridge telegraph.

Answering the signal sent by Dave to the engine room, the "Logan" made a magnificent leap forward just as the destroyer's bow reached the point over the tail of the shadow.

"Let go the depth bomb!" he roared. The signal was pa.s.sed to the bomb crew to "let go!"

Over went the bomb. The "Logan" still leaped forward.

Then, astern of the rushing craft, came a m.u.f.fled roar. A great ma.s.s of water shot up into the air, like a compressed geyser. Before the column of water had had time to subside big bubbles of air came up in myriads and burst on the surface.

The instant after the explosion of the depth bomb, the "Logan" turned on the shortest axis possible, her propellers slowing down somewhat.

"The 'c.u.mberland' is still afloat and not hit, thank Heaven!" Darrin uttered fervently.

Only the troopship's quick turn to starboard had saved her. The torpedo had sped past by less than five feet from her rudder.

Another turn, and Dave came up with the scene of the explosion. Oh, cheerful sight! The water was mottled with great patches of oil. More cheering still, sundered bits of wooden fittings from a submarine floated on the water. Two dead bodies also drifted on the swells; the remaining Huns on the shattered craft must have gone down with the sea pest.

"Not bad work, Mr. Curtin," Dave remarked, calmly, as the destroyer once more moved into her place in the escort line.

"May we have as good luck every time," came the fervent response of the watch officer.

Word of the bomb hit had been signalled along the line. It was hard indeed that the soldiers were not allowed to cheer!

But had the morning's work really begun?

CHAPTER IX