The Brighton Boys with the Submarine Fleet Part 18

"Little Mack" merely smiled and made no reply.

And then it dawned upon Ted, who suddenly realized that the name of his gallant chief had not been called in the lottery. "Little Mack"

had purposely withheld his own name and meant to be the last man in the _Dewey_ after every other man had gone!

There was a commotion in the excited group as various members of the crew sought to take exception to their captain's voluntary omission of his own name. But the young lieutenant held up his hand for silence.

"I am the captain of this ship and take orders, from no man," he announced bravely. "One man has to stay behind and I reserve that honor for myself."

He paused for an instant and then added:

"The first man will go out at three o'clock to-morrow morning. We shall have to get busy at that time before we have exhausted the compressed air that yet remains in our tanks. It will require considerable pound pressure for this job and we might as well be at it while there is yet time. As near as I can estimate we are not more than a mile off sh.o.r.e. Once afloat, I would advise each of you to swim for land and take your chances there. That's all."

And with a wave of his hand he dismissed his men.

The hours dragged on into the afternoon and evening. Some of the men crouched alone in their quarters, facing in solitude the impending ordeal; others conversed together in low tones debating how they would choose their method of escape. Bill Witt, true to his inherent optimism, toted out his old banjo.

"Old Black Joe," he sang, and all the old familiar home songs. And then, while some of the braver spirits were singing he swung into "The Star Spangled Banner."

Instantly every man was on his feet and standing at attention. Thus they stood until Bill picked his way through to "the home of the brave."

Yes, the "home of the brave!" Here were sons of Uncle Sam, wrecked on the bottom of the sea, exemplifying that bravery that has characterized the boys of our army and navy in every stage of our history. Not a man in the _Dewey_ but was inspired by the grand old song and steeled to die bravely for Old Glory if necessary and uphold the fair traditions of the U.S. Navy.

From that moment the mental atmosphere within the _Dewey_ was cleared.

Inspired by the national anthem, every man resolved that now, do or die, he would perform his part bravely.

"Where do we go from here, boys?" Bill started to play, and immediately a dozen l.u.s.ty voices joined in the rag-time refrain.

So the merriment continued over evening mess and into the evening. Ted had strolled into the torpedo room absent-mindedly and was leaning with one arm over one of the torpedoes in the starboard rack when suddenly there flashed through his mind a wild inspiration. Instantly he straightened and gazed about him. One at a time he counted the torpedoes in the hold of the _Dewey_. There were three loaded in the tubes and two more in the port and starboard racks.

"I'll do it, I'll do it," he shouted aloud and raced aft immediately to the control chamber where his commander sat writing at an improvised table.

Lieutenant McClure turned as Ted stopped and came to a salute.

"If you please, sir," Ted began, "I've been hatching a crazy kind of a notion in my mind. I'd like to offer it in the way of a suggestion, if you don't mind, sir."

"Go ahead, lad," said "Little Mack" with a show of interest.

"All right, sir," replied Ted. "There are five torpedoes aboard the _Dewey_. It occurred to me that you might load all four tubes. Start the engines and reverse them and then when we are tugging with all our might shoot out the four torpedoes one after the other in rapid succession. We'll lighten our load a lot and the kick of the firing may drag us off. That's all, sir, but it was just an idea and I couldn't help telling you, sir."

The captain of the _Dewey_ sat bold upright in his chair.

"I never thought of trying such a plan. I'll try it---I'll try it,"

he shouted.

"Little Mack" jumped to his feet and pressed the buzzer for his executive officer. In a moment Officer Cleary appeared and the plan was unfolded to him.

In quicker time than it takes to relate it, the _Dewey's_ commander had sent orders forward for Mike Mowrey to load the torpedo tubes and for Chief Engineer Blaine to get his engines in motion.

"What's up?" cried Bill Witt as Ted came bouncing into the torpedo room.

"Wait a moment and you'll see," replied Ted.

From the engine room aft came the purr of the motors as the last precious stores of "juice" were turned into the engines and the propellor shafts began to revolve amid the hum of machinery.

"Reverse and back away at full speed," was the next order flashed to the engine room.

And then, while the _Dewey_ was straining in every steel sinew, her commander reached forward and touched off the four torpedoes in rapid succession.

The little submersible seemed torn by an internal explosion. As each torpedo shot out into the water the vessel shook under the force of the explosion, rocking to and fro under the concussion.

"We're off; we're off," shouted McClure as he bent over the depth dial. The hands of the indicator began to spin around and the _Dewey_, relieved of every pound of ballast, shot upward like a rocket.

"Hurrah, hurrah!" the cry reverberated through the ship.

In another two minutes the American submarine had gained the surface, her hatches were thrown open and the men swarmed out on deck---to life and freedom!

CHAPTER XVIII

IN THE RAT'S NEST

Trapped in the German wireless station with a burly Prussian at the other end of the business-looking revolver, Jack Hammond was completely at the mercy of his captor. For a moment the American lad debated in his mind the advisability of knocking the weapon out of the hand of the German; but he noted the forefinger firmly pressed on the trigger and knew full well the least show of resistance would take him out of life altogether.

"Where come you from?" asked the German in his best and gruffest English.

Jack declined to answer, but instead sat staring insolently at the towering figure. His reply was a shrug of the shoulders.

From the wireless operator on the floor came a low moan as he slowly regained consciousness. The fellow had been merely stunned. Now he rolled over and struggled into a sitting posture.

The two Germans conversed together for a few minutes in their own language. Jack, who had studied German at Brighton before the war, was able to gather from their conversation that the wireless operator was telling his companion of the surprise attack. Soon the wireless man was able to get upon his feet and as he did so glowered at Jack as though he would like to leap upon him.

Again they tried to question him; but he refused to answer their questions. This only angered them the more. The wireless operator shuffled over to a closet in the corner and returned in a moment with a coil of rope which he handed to his superior, who was apparently the officer of the guard.

"Sit down in that chair," commanded the German officer.

At that he thrust a revolver under Jack's ear and motioned with his other arm for the American to wheel around facing the wireless with his back to the door. Securely they bound him to the chair. His arms and legs were pinioned so tightly that the rope cut into his flesh. One of them now withdrew from the room and the other remained on guard at the door. Every once in a while the German officer on guard walked over to Jack and glared at him with a fiendish sort of grin; kicking at the boy's bound legs and brandishing his revolver in a menacing fashion.

"B-z-z-z-z," the wireless began to talk. But not for long, for the German on guard, who apparently knew little about the operation of the wireless apparatus, scurried over to the table and, after fumbling about for a moment madly and in haste, succeeded eventually in shutting off the key and stopping the flow of words that had been filtering in over the wires. But not before Jack, alert to the message in code that he had heard, was able to translate in part.

As near as Jack could make out it was the U.S. destroyer _Farragut_ speaking a United States battleship in the North Sea at something like seventy-five miles away. But now the wireless was stopped and the lad sat helplessly in the power of the enemy.

After about twenty minutes' wait Jack heard the sound of approaching footsteps outside and the clink of accoutrements that denoted the approach of an armed body of some sort. The sentry at the door came to attention and saluted the leader of a file of some ten men who halted and set their guns down with a thud that Jack could plainly hear in the wireless station. There was a short exchange of words at the door and then the commander of the detail stalked over and took a look at the prisoner. Jack looked up to see before him a brawny German in the uniform of a lieutenant of the Imperial German Navy.

"Who are you?" the officer demanded.

Jack shook his head in reply.