Dave Darrin and the German Submarines Part 27

Now, from the deckhouse below a detachment of Uncle Sam's jackies in uniform dashed out.

"Open ports!" called Ensign Peters, as some of the men sprang to the guns.

All in a jiffy the sliding doors in the bulwarks were shoved back and gun muzzles were run out. Crisply the orders issued. Within a few seconds the first gun spoke, and right after it the other two.

One of the shots struck the submarine's hull aft, ripping off several plates.

"Hurrah!" yelled Dalzell. "Now, let's see 'em try to dive. But fire fast and straight, before the Huns take it out of our people in the small boats!"

One shot the enemy fired, aimed at one of the "Prince's" guns. Over the top of the bulwarks it went, missing them by only a few feet.

That was a game at which two could play. Ensign Peters aimed a gun at the base of the submersible's forward gun. A cheer of joy went up forward on the tramp steamer when it was seen that a hit had been registered as aimed. The enemy now had only his stern gun, and he swung quickly to bring it to bear.

Ensign Peters now aimed at the base of the stern gun. But he missed it, for, a second before, one of the other guns in the "Prince's" battery had struck the submarine just below the water line.

"Good enough!" roared Dalzell in trumpet tones. "Now, let's see the rascal fight!"

Evidently in reply to signal or command all the sailors on the enemy craft ran to the conning tower and vanished inside.

"Called to see if they can repair the leak and submerge!" guessed Dalzell, and pa.s.sing his conjecture down to the gunners on the spar deck below. "Make submerging a cinch for them!"

Three more shots barked out, almost together. One went a shade wild, one hit the upper hull, but the third was planted just below the water-line.

"Good-bye!" called Dan, derisively.

Then the "Prince's" steam whistle, with a sufficiently good head of steam this time, sent the recall to the small boats, which immediately put about.

The submarine was sinking fast. Eight or ten men managed to get through the tower to the deck just before the pest sank out of sight.

"Some of those men are swimming," Dan shouted. "Stand by with lines!

We'll give them a chance! More than they'd do for us, though!"

Several of the German swimmers sank at once. Perhaps they preferred to drown, fearing the tortures that their home papers declared were meted out to submarine sailors by officers of the Allied Powers.

Two enemy seamen, however, were found afloat as the "Prince" drew closer and lay to. Lines were cast to them, both catching hold. The swimmers were then hauled aboard. Dan Dalzell went down to the spar deck in order to question them.

Both were loutishly stupid in appearance, and plainly were badly scared as well. Their ragged, oil-stained uniforms gave them the opposite of smart appearance.

"Do you men speak English?" Dan demanded, eyeing the pair as the deck watch arraigned them before him.

The duller-looking of the pair shook his head, but the other replied:

"I speak id somedimes, a liddle."

"What craft was that you came from?" Dalzell queried.

"The U 193."

"How many ships have you sunk?"

"I vas not by der ship before dis cruise," replied the German.

"How long had you been out this time?"

"Zwelf (twelve) days."

"How many ships did you sink on this cruise?"

"You vas der first vun," said the man, dully.

"I think we'll survive our misfortune," smiled Dalzell, grimly. "How many submarines have you served on?"

"None, in dis var," was the answer.

"And you won't serve in any more during this war," rejoined Dan. "Don't you fellows feel like criminals, firing on women and children, and committing wilful and useless murder all over the high seas?"

"Vat?" demanded the fellow, stupidly. "Vat?"

Dan had to repeat the question in two or three different forms before it sank in.

"Chermany got to vin by der var," replied the seaman, with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

"Why don't you win, then, by fair fighting?"

"Chermany got to vin der var," the fellow replied, stolidly. "Der vay, it makes noddings."

By which he meant that Germany must win, but that the means by which she won did not matter.

"Why must Germany win?" Dan demanded impatiently.

"Because Chermany is Chermany; because she is der ruler of der vorld,"

came back the ready answer.

"If Germany is really the ruler of the world, she'll have to prove it, and take a century of hard fighting to do it," Dan clicked. "Has it ever struck you, my man, that Germany is the bad-dog nation of the world?"

"Chermany is der fine, der great nation of der vorld," insisted the prisoner, stubbornly.

"Wouldn't a fine nation act like a fine nation?" demanded Dalzell.

"Wouldn't it respect the rights of other peoples? Wouldn't Germany, if a fine nation, fight according to the rules of honor and decency, and not like pirates?"

Again it required repet.i.tions, in other words, to drive the query home.

"Chermany is Chermany," declared the stolid fellow. "Chermany must vin der var because Chermany must rule. It is right dot der Chermans should tell der rest of der vorld vat is. Vat Chermany must do to vin it is right for her to do, but vat you Amerigans do is wrong. You are only pigs, und you help der pigs of English. You are all pigs, und Chermany shall punish you good for vat you do!"

"When?" asked Dan, derisively.

"Negst year! You vait, you see! Den der var vill over be, und der Amerigans on deir knees shall be!"

"The war end next year?" Dan derided. "Not unless Germany has been whipped soundly by that time."