The Battleship Boys at Sea Part 39

The signal was blown loud and clear.

Crash after crash followed the bugle's command, as steel met steel when the mines were clamped together.

"Silence!" roared the executive officer as the men began shouting in their excitement.

As fast as the mines were bolted together they were rolled to the side of the ship. There tackle was quickly hooked to them, then at command the heavy spheres were swung over the side, being carefully lowered to the boats below. There they were hung over the opposite sides of the small boats, one mine balancing the other. This would make placing the mines much easier than if they were to be taken over into the boats, for in that case they would have to be lifted out.

In an incredibly short time every one of the sixteen deadly implements of warfare was on the boats. Each boat held either an ensign or a midshipman, who was in command.

Sam was in one of the large whaleboats, while Dan occupied the wherry with an ensign and an oarsman.

"Three minutes, lads," came the information from the deck.

The jackies sent up a cheer that might have been heard far over the sunlit sea. The morning was a glorious one, the sea having quieted down to a sluggish roll that scarcely disturbed the ship at all, though the small boats bobbed about somewhat, thus giving more zest to the work.

"Lay mines," came the command.

Half a hundred hardy tars bent themselves to the oars and the fleet of boats slipped away from the towering sides of the "Long Island," the men pulling for the mine field off to the southeast.

Each Battleship Boy carried a spy gla.s.s under his arm. Now and then he would place it to his eye for a long look at the ship.

"The ship is making signals, sir," Dan informed the ensign in command of his boat.

"What do they want?"

"They are saying that whaleboat number two is off its course, sir.

Orders, sir, to bear more to the southwest."

"Wherry, there," spelled Dan. "That's us." He acknowledged the signal.

"Pull up. Wherry lagging behind!"

Dan translated the message to his superior officer. The lad was glad that it was not he who was tugging at the oars, for the perspiration was dripping from the face of the oarsman by this time.

As each boat reached the buoy where it was to locate its mine, the men would toss their oars as a signal that they were ready. Some time was required for all the boats to get in their proper places.

In the meantime Dan Davis was standing up in the wherry with his flag ready for signaling. At last the oars in each boat of the fleet were tossed, which means held upright.

"Ready," wig-wagged the Battleship Boy.

He held his flag high above his head with one hand-the injured one-the other hand holding the spy gla.s.s to his eye watching the signal halyards of the battleship.

A flag fluttered to the breeze on the ship. Instantly Dan dipped his own signal flag.

A splash from a cutter, followed by a series of splashes from the other boats of the little fleet, told him that the mines were going overboard.

The second leg of the contest against time was on. Sam Hickey sat in the whaleboat irritated because he had had little or nothing to do. Had he but known it, however, there was plenty of opportunity ahead of him to enable the lad to show the stuff he was made of.

CHAPTER XXI-BREAKING THE RECORD

"There goes the last of them," shouted the officer in Dan's boat.

Dan raised his flag, making the signal 333. This he did three times, indicating that the work was finished.

"What is the time, sir?"

"Three minutes and twenty seconds," replied the officer. "That breaks the record." Picking up his megaphone the officer shouted out the tidings to the men who were out on the mine field. "Three minutes and twenty seconds," he bellowed. "Best previous time beaten by forty seconds."

A great cheer broke from the jackies drifting about in their little boats over the mine field. Batteries had been placed, everything had been done within the time named, and had the mines been charged with dry guncotton any ship running into them would undoubtedly have been blown up.

In the meantime Dan Davis was signaling the news to the battleship.

The "Long Island," expressed her congratulations in three long blasts of her siren, at which the jackies set up another cheer. This time the cheer reached to the ship itself.

"Battleship making signal of general recall, sir," Dan informed his superior.

"Return to ship," shouted the officer through his megaphone.

All boats were now turned back. The mines were to be left as they were until later in the day, or perhaps until the next day, when they would be taken up. As a general rule planted mines are left out for twenty-four hours.

Good time was made on the return, for it was nearly time for the noonday mess, and every man in the outfit had a sharpened appet.i.te after the morning's exertions.

Reaching the ship, the men piled over the side to the quarter-deck, where a number of the officers were gathered. The men were called to attention on the quarter-deck. Stepping out before them, the captain said:

"You have done well, lads. If you do as well in taking up the mines, our record will stand a long time before it is beaten. I congratulate you all, and I have also sent a wireless message to the admiral telling him of your good work."

The bugle blew for dinner and all hands hurried to the mess rooms, where they were left undisturbed for the next hour. This is one of the few hours in the sailor's day when he is never disturbed, except in case of emergency.

The moment the sailors sit down to their meals the little triangular red flag mounts quickly up the signal halyard, where it is left fluttering to the breeze until the meal is finished. That, also, is one hour of the day when visitors are not welcomed aboard ship.

Dinner over, the smoke lamp was lit for half an hour, when all hands lounged about decks, many smoking and telling stories. The jackies were unusually jubilant on this sunny afternoon, for they had set a mark in mine planting that would make their companions on the other ships of the service more than envious.

Suddenly a bugle trilled out the strains of an order.

"Mine crews take to the boats!" bellowed a boatswain's mate.

The jackies uttered a shout. In a moment the scene of quiet on the forecastle was changed into one of quick action. White-clad figures were running and leaping for the quarter-deck, whence they boarded the small boats. This was the landing place, the quarter-deck being lower than any other part of the ship.

The men who had been tending the small boats trailing out astern of the battleship had quickly propelled their craft alongside and were lying in readiness to take the crews on board.

The jackies piled over the sides of the ship noisily, the officers making no attempt to check their enthusiasm, well realizing that it was because the men were in great haste to get out to the mine field and get the mines up in record-breaking time.

Dan Davis and Sam Hickey were well up with the first to reach the quarter-deck, though Dan was obliged to favor his lame wrist, now paining him severely. This delayed him somewhat in getting down the sea ladder, performing the feat with one free hand being rather awkward.

"Hurry up, elephant feet," shouted a voice from above.