Dave Darrin and the German Submarines Part 17

Two sailors on lookout, hit by flying pieces of steel, were hurled into the air. One dropped to the deck, a hopelessly mangled ma.s.s of torn flesh; the other seaman was knocked overboard.

Dave turned to look at that wreck of a human being as it struck the water. He knew there was no life in the man, so gave no order for recovering the body.

Down below sailors sprang to lift the dead man, who had dropped there, on to a stretcher. They carried him below, to be buried later.

Beatty did not delay his firing an instant. This time the sh.e.l.l struck at the base of the enemy's tower. A fragment of the exploding sh.e.l.l must have hit one of the German gun-crew, for a man fell on his face and rolled overboard. However, that mattered little in the fight, for still Hun reinforcements came through what was left of the conning tower.

"I seem able to hit everything but that gun or the water-line," fumed Lieutenant Beatty, enraged with himself.

Hit though the tower had been, and though, also, three or four members of the Hun crew must have been killed in those hits, the steering gear of the submarine was still left and the grim craft was maneuvered in a way to challenge admiration.

Considerate of the feelings of the officer with the forward guns, Darrin had refrained from giving one order, but now pa.s.sed the order to the machine gunners to concentrate their fire on the enemy hull at the water line.

The water alongside the submarine began spurting in tiny jets. This sieve-like riddling would presently settle the fight, unless the Hun gunners got in just one shot where it would tell best. The fight, therefore, was not yet won by the destroyer.

"Fire!" ordered Beatty, in forced calm. Then, all in an instant, that young naval lieutenant threw up his hands.

CHAPTER XI

A TRAP AND ITS PREY

Not that he was. .h.i.t. Oh, no! Beatty's last shot had done its work well.

In the enemy's hull, at the water-line, a great, jagged hole had appeared.

Responding to the inrush of water the submarine heeled. And then a strange sight was witnessed. Just as the breathless sailors on the "Logan" looked for the underseas craft to plunge under the waves she did something very different.

How it happened no one can ever tell; the cause none can guess with anything like certainty.

Did a chorus of despairing shrieks come from the bowels of that dying sea monster? There were those on the "Logan" who were sure they heard cries of terror.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The last shot.]

Instead of sinking, the submarine continued on over-and turned turtle.

Her dripping hull glistened in the forenoon sun!

It was too much for the tensed nerves of the American sailor men.

"Hurrah!" they let loose. "Hurrah! Hur-"

"Stop that cheering!" rose Darrin's heaviest tones over the tumult. "The enemy are dying."

"They're only Huns!" answered a voice from below.

But the cheering died away and Dave's voice carried far as he answered:

"I know they're only Huns, and a bad lot, but they fought us well. We'll cheer for the victory later, but not for the fate of men who are dying there."

Darrin then gave the order to steam in close and to stand by to rescue any swimmers who might appear in the water.

Twice the "Logan" circled the overturned enemy. Save for two of the men who had been shot away from the submarine's gun platform, and who were dead, none of the enemy were to be found.

Now it was that the young commanding officer had an opportunity to turn about and see how it was faring with the other American vessels.

All firing had ceased. The fleet was proceeding on its way. Darrin was some distance astern of the rearmost ships of the troopship fleet.

"Men, it looks as if our fight were over for the present," Dave called down in hearty cheery tones. "From the bridge we cannot see the head of the fleet, nor can we hear the sound of firing."

Accordingly all speed was jammed on. The "Logan," saluting the rearmost scout of the destroyer flotilla, steamed on to return to her own position in the line. As he pa.s.sed a sister ship Darrin signalled:

"How many transports lost?"

"Only the 'Castle City,' we understand," came the response.

"Any lives lost?"

"We don't know."

"We lost two men."

"Condolence," signalled the rearmost rear-guard craft.

"Any naval vessels lost?" Dave inquired.

"None that we know about."

"How many enemy submarines sunk?"

"Several; don't know the number," replied the other destroyer.

"Now you may cheer in earnest, if you want to," Darrin shouted down from the bridge as the news was pa.s.sed around.

And right royally did those jackies cheer. The rescued soldiers were now permitted on the "Logan's" deck, and contributed their own quota of cheers.

Dan came up to the bridge with a paper in his hand.

"The commanding general of the Army division will be asking for the names of soldiers on the various ships of the naval fleet who were rescued from the 'Castle City,'" Dalzell explained. "So I've taken the names of all the Army people we have aboard the 'Logan.' Here's the list. It foots up seventy-seven enlisted men, with two officers."

"Good enough," rejoined Dave. "Keep the list until called for."

No sooner was the destroyer within signalling distance of the transport that carried Major-General Burton, than a wigwagged demand came for that list. It was received and checked up.

The American loss, to the Army, had been one troopship, one officer and five enlisted men; to the Navy, with no ships lost, four men had been killed, including the two on the "Logan," and one seaman had been wounded.

The German loss in officers and men could only be guessed at. But it was definitely known that thirteen of the Kaiser's submarines had been sent to the bottom.