The Brighton Boys with the Submarine Fleet Part 11

One of the winged fleet was circling almost overhead at this moment and seemed tantalizing near. With a twist of the wheel Mowrey swung the muzzle of his gun up a couple of inches and gave the signal again to fire. Following the shot for a moment the frenzied gunner was elated to note that the machine just above sagged suddenly to one side.

Like a bird with a broken pinion it swerved drunkenly in its course and began slowly to come down. Sustaining wires had been cut by the sh.e.l.l fire from the _Dewey_ and the airplane was out of commission.

"Guess that fellow is done for," said Mowrey.

It was soon evident that the machine was badly crippled, for it came on downward like a feather floating in the still air. Only a few minutes elapsed until it had settled on the water.

"Hydro-aeroplane," announced Commander McClure as he stood in the conning tower observing the wounded airship. The other planes were engaged over the remainder of the allied fleet and the _Dewey_ was free to take care of the craft in front of it.

There was now a chance that the American submarine might move alongside and take prisoner the German birdmen in the damaged machine. The ship's course was altered toward the floating plane and the _Dewey_ crept up on her foe.

"Train your forward gun right on that fellow; he is apt to shoot unless both pilot and observer are injured," cautioned McClure.

And that was just what happened, for the words had hardly escaped the lips of the Yankee skipper before a gun rang out from under the canvas wings of the airplane and a sh.e.l.l came whizzing over the _Dewey_.

"There's another machine almost directly overhead," bawled Mowrey, as he spied a second flying craft near at hand.

Having witnessed the fall of the crippled airship, another member of the attacking squadron had put back to the rescue. As it soared now within range of the American submarine a bomb came splashing into the water not two hundred feet away.

Commander McClure began to figure that it was getting too dangerous longer to risk his thin-skinned vessel before the rain of the lyddite bombs, and accordingly gave orders to submerge. Jamming their guns back into their deck casings, the crews melted away through the hatches into the hold of the _Dewey_. Ballast poured in through the valves and the ship began to submerge.

And then, just as the submarine began settling in the water, a sh.e.l.l came whizzing over the water from the wounded airplane and burst directly over the conning tower. There was a crash of rending steel and then a great clatter on the forward deck of the submarine that reechoed through the interior with an ominous sound.

"Great Scott!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed McClure. "They've torn away both our periscopes!"

CHAPTER XI

IN THE FOG

Completely blinded by the fire from the wounded German birdman, the _Dewey_ now had but one alternative. The approach of other air raiders made it necessary for the submarine to dive away into the depths to safety. To linger longer on the surface was but to court the continued fire of the birdmen overhead who apparently were incensed over the wounding of their companion craft and out for revenge.

Reluctantly, but yielding to his better judgment, McClure gave orders to submerge. At the same time the damaged periscopes were cut off in the conning tower to prevent an inflow of water when the ship dived.

"Too bad to quit right now; but it would be folly to stand out under those deadly bombs any longer," he said.

Fortunately, the _Dewey_ was equipped with reserve periscope tubes, and Lieutenant McClure's plan now was to wait until the convenient darkness of night had mantled the ocean and then ascend to repair at leisure the damaged "eyes."

"Might as well make ourselves comfortable here awhile under the water,"

suggested "Little Mack."

Jean Cartier was instructed to extend himself for the evening meal and to draw on the ship's larder for an "extra fine dinner." It being the first night of the _Dewey's_ renewed cruise the ship's galley was well stocked with fresh foods. Chops, baked potatoes, hot tea and rice pudding represented the menu selected by Jean, and soon the odor of the savory food had every mother's son smacking his lips in antic.i.p.ation of a luxurious "chow" to top off the exciting events of the evening.

Seventy feet below the surface of the water, immune from hostile attacks, officers and crew sat down to the repast as safe and secure as though in a banquet hail on sh.o.r.e. Wit and laughter accompanied the courses, and, as the submarine dinner was concluded, Bill Witt's banjo was produced. Soon the ship resounded to the "plink-plunk-plink"

of the instrument and the gay songs of the jolly submarine sailors.

"If they could only see us now at Brighton!" laughed Ted, as he surveyed the scene admiringly.

Jack grew reminiscent.

"Remember that last dinner at Brighton?" he asked. "Fellows all wishing us good luck and cheering for us out on the campus? And good old 'prexie' declaring he expected to hear great things of his boys in the war? And all of them standing on the dormitory steps singing 'Fair Brighton' as we headed for the depot?"

Ted remembered it all now only too plainly. Good old Brighton!

Back there now under the oaks on the campus, or up in the dormitories, the boys were a.s.sembled again for the fall term.

But this was not the time for backward glances. Grim work lay ahead of them.

An hour later preparations were made to ascend and repair the damaged periscopes. In response to a query from the ship's commander, Sammy Smith said he could find no trace of any nearby or approaching vessels, although he had given the submarine telephone its best test.

Gradually the _Dewey_ came to the surface as the ballast tanks were emptied. The hatch was thrown open and the _Dewey's_ commander raised himself to get a line on his surroundings.

A dense fog had commenced to settle over the water, blotting out the stars and making a mist that hung over the sea like a great gray blanket.

"Could not be better for our purposes had it been made to order,"

smiled McClure, as he gave orders for the repair crew to haul out the reserve periscopes and get busy.

It was impossible to see more than a hundred yards from the sides of the _Dewey_ in any direction, and there appeared nothing but the rolling swell of the ocean. Nevertheless, overlooking no precaution, McClure gave orders for all lights to be dimmed amidships. In the darkness the crew went to work to subst.i.tute the new "eyes" of the ship for the damaged tubes, climbing out on the superstructure and working energetically.

Just as the forward periscope was being lowered into position and secured, Commander McClure, supervising the work, was startled by a voice out of the fog, a stentorian challenge through a megaphone, that seemed almost on top of the submarine.

"What ship is that?" came the call in German.

For a moment it seemed that some one on the deck of the submarine must be playing a prank on his friends. But Bill Witt, who was doing lookout duty forward, declared that the cry was right at hand and apparently from the deck of a warship.

Whispering to the repair crew to go quickly below McClure addressed himself to the unknown voice in his best Deutsch.

"Dis iss das unterseeboot nein und zwanzig."

For a moment there was a deathless silence. Then again the heavy voice to port:

"You speck not the truth. U-boat 29 is in der Kiel Ca.n.a.l. You are English or Yankee. We call on you to surrender!"

McClure's answer was to slam down the lid of the conning tower and ring for full speed in the engine room. Instantly he switched the rudder to starboard as the _Dewey's_ propeller blades began to turn.

"Dive!" yelled the commander to his navigating officer, as he himself slanted the submerging rudders.

Almost at the same moment the German warship's powerful searchlights turned full upon the American submarine. Then came a great spit of fire from a battery aboard the enemy vessel followed by the roar of her guns and a salvo of shots.

"It's no use, boys," said the submarine commander to his officers.

"They have us trapped. Unless we surrender here we are going to be blown out of the water in short order. We cannot submerge quick enough to avoid that terrible gunfire."

Again and a shot from the enemy, and this time it struck in the water just in front of the conning tower and flung a great spray that blinded the portholes.

The _Dewey_ was just starting to submerge. With her diving rudders inclined, the ship was tilted now until her bow pointed downward and her stern reared up out of the water. She was shipping ballast in her tanks rapidly, but the process was necessarily slow and, even with her improved equipment, it must be one and a half to two minutes before the hull could be submerged, let alone the conning tower.

"Hold her right there!" suddenly shouted the young lieutenant to his navigating officer.