Dave Darrin and the German Submarines Part 35

This message was sent, bringing back the alarming word:

"Cannot say, but submarine moving closer. Evidently determined to make swift job of us."

"And of course the German hears these messages!" groaned Dave. "He may even have the key to our code with commercial ships. He will now do his best and quickest to send the liner to the bottom!"

Ten minutes later this came in by way of the "Grigsby's" aerials:

"S. O. S.! Taking to our boats on starboard side. Enemy on our port! S.

O. S. 'Griswold'."

"And we are still fifteen miles away!" moaned Dave.

His face was calm, but ghastly white. His lips were tightly closed over firmly set jaws. "Fifteen miles away!"

"The turbines are doing every ounce of work that is in them," said Lieutenant Fernald, in a low voice.

"I know it," Dave answered dully, staring ahead into the night. "And Dalzell will be even longer than we in reaching the 'Griswold'."

"If you could tell the captain of the 'Griswold' how long it will take you to reach him, he might know better what to do-how to hold out more successfully," suggested Fernald.

"And, if the German knows the code we are using he would know how long he could continue his wicked work and still have chance to get away,"

Darrin replied. "I must not send him that information. Fernald, I have some hope that I may be able to find that German pirate still on the surface. If I do-"

Darrin did not finish, but on his face there was an expression that was both prayer and threat.

The watch officer counted the miles as they were reeled off and told Dave, from time to time, how many miles yet remained to be covered.

On the bridge were screened lights-one over the bridge compa.s.s, that the quartermaster might see to keep the ship on her course; another light placed under the hood that protected the chart table.

No other light appeared, and no light whatever could have been made out on the destroyer by any one from a near-by craft.

The minutes ticked slowly by-eternities they were to Dave Darrin.

Nearer and nearer, every minute, yet was there hope of arriving in time?

"By-by Jove!" cried Fernald, at last, under his breath.

"I see it," Dave replied quietly. "And there is another-flashes from the German craft's deck guns. We see them on account of the elevation of the guns, though we do not yet see the German hull through the gla.s.s."

"I can make out the 'Griswold'," Fernald exclaimed. "Over there! See her, yonder? She is low in the water."

"Yes; she must soon sink, or I am a poor guesser," Dave rejoined. "Look, Fernald! Isn't the liner lowering her port boats now?"

"Yes, sir, and shoving rafts over, too."

"The rafts? Ah, yes! Near the finish now, and the 'Griswold's' skipper has given up hope of our help. Putting the rafts overboard is always the first step in a wreck."

Though hoping against hope, Fernald telephoned the engine room, urging the engineer to try to get a little more speed from the engines. The chief engineer officer, himself in charge below, did his best. Billows of black smoke hung over the water astern. Bit by bit the straining engines provided more, and then a little more speed.

If it were but daylight! Men stood by the "Grigsby's" guns, ready to fire at the word-to sight by guess, should the lieutenant-commander on the bridge call for it. Dave might have thrown on the searchlight.

Should the white ribbon of light appear now, while still so far away, the German commander would know how soon to submerge.

And Dave Darrin wanted the lives of those Germans! He was not blood-thirsty, and heretofore had fought because it was his duty to fight. Now he HATED these German fiends! If he could send fifty of them to the bottom, that would be excellent. If he could drown a hundred of the Hun pirates, that would be fine! To send a thousand of them to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean-that would be something worth while!

But to send that beam of clear white light across the ocean-to signal the German commander, in effect, the word "Dive!"-that would be criminal.

"Fernald!" cried Dave, hoa.r.s.ely.

"Sir?"

"Can you make out the enemy hull?"

"No, sir."

"Try!"

"I cannot make it out yet, sir," replied Lieutenant Fernald, lowering the gla.s.s from his eyes. "But look-the first streaks of dawn are behind us."

"That will be of no a.s.sistance for ten minutes or more," answered Dave.

"Ten minutes! It will all be over then. Look at that flash from the scoundrel's gun!"

The German was now sh.e.l.ling the boats that were trying to slip away in the darkness. Next, undoubtedly, the Hun would begin firing on the rafts, which could move little faster than the waves that slipped them along.

"Never again any mercy to a pirate! Not one surrender will I accept after this! All Germans who fall into my clutches shall go to the bottom!"

Lieutenant Fernald turned his head aside to hide a bitter smile. He did not blame Dave; his heart ached for that gallant young commander. Yet well enough Fernald knew that Darrin would never, once his rage had pa.s.sed, sink a helpless foe, no matter how much he despised the wretch.

They could now, through the night gla.s.s, make out a German sailor who stood forward on the submarine's hull, a lookout, doubtless scanning the dark lines of the destroyer rushing to the rescue. It must be that lookout's business to try to judge the distance of the destroyer, that the submersible might remain on the surface long enough to wreak all possible havoc on the lifeboats. Then, at the last moment, the submarine would submerge, that its commander, crew and craft might survive to a.s.sa.s.sinate ships' companies on another day!

"He knows I won't use my searchlight-he's daring me!" muttered Dave, savagely. "But, by the great Dewey! I'll use that light in thirty seconds more. Fernald, tell me when the time is up!"

Dave's next word was pa.s.sed to the officer in command of the forward guns, and by that officer to the skilled, cool gun-pointers.

None except Darrin, Fernald and the watch officer knew that Belle Darrin was a pa.s.senger on the ill-fated "Griswold."

"Let your first shots set this craft's record!" was the division officer's quiet command to the gun-pointers.

No message could have been more inspiring to these veterans, on a new ship, knowing that she was one of the best of the destroyer fleet.

The "Grigsby" came rushing, roaring in, and then, slowing down, went close to the foremost of the boats from the sinking liner.

From the submarine a sh.e.l.l arched and struck in that boat, tearing out the bottom and throwing the occupants into the sea.

"Searchlight!" commanded Darrin.

Hardly a second did the light waver in the sky, then settled down across the submarine, making a fair mark of her.

A double bark leaped out from the forward guns. Never had pieces been better served, for one sh.e.l.l tore a big, jagged hole in the starboard hull of the enemy, the bottom of the rent being barely six inches from the water. The second sh.e.l.l went in just below the water-line, throwing up a geyser-like jet of water.