CHAPTER XI
UNEXPECTED PERIL
The four apprentice seamen went down to Rivermouth in great spirits. Thehome folks were not actually glad to see them go, but they were a littlerelieved; for the chums had managed to keep things very lively aboutSeacove during their shore leave.
The terrible disaster at Elmvale, however, had sobered the four friendsa good bit at the last. Seven Knott had gone away before it happened, sohe had had no part in their later adventures. They were not even surethat he had gone to join the crew of the _Kennebunk_, the newsuperdreadnaught to which they were assigned for a brief cruise.
They had heard nothing from Ensign MacMasters, so the Navy boys did notknow when or how they were to meet him; but they went to Rivermouth onthe early train and had plenty of time to look about the port and seeall of the shipping in the harbor.
One craft they did not see. The oil tender, _Sarah Coville_, was nothere, and, on making some inquiries of the dock loungers, the boyslearned that she had not been seen at Rivermouth since the night theyhad come in off the submarine chaser in the fog.
Rivermouth was fast becoming a base for patrol boats and submarines, itseemed, although New London and Groton, across the harbor from NewLondon, were really the headquarters for all such craft along the NorthAtlantic seaboard.
"Maybe we can spy the Three Eights," Torry said, referring to thesubmarine chaser in which they had pursued the _Sarah Coville_ a fewdays before. "Mr. MacMasters must have been relieved of the command ofher before this, don't you think?"
"Don't know," Whistler rejoined, breaking off in his whistling briefly.
"But where is he?" queried the anxious Frenchy.
"Don't worry," Whistler said. "He'll be here."
"Oi, oi! If he don't come," said Ikey, "we're marooned, eh?"
"That'll be fierce!" growled Frenchy Donahue. "I've got just fifty-fivecents left, and one of the nickels is punched. I can see my finish if hedoesn't show up to-day."
The chums soon discovered that they were not the only boys from the Navyin town. By ones and twos other bluejackets made their appearance onthe water-front. But there was not even a petty officer assigned to theport to meet them.
The four friends from Seacove learned that every enlisted man andapprentice they talked with was assigned to the _Kennebunk_, andimmediately all fraternized.
At noon time the bluejackets marched up town in a body to Yancey's andflocked into that eating place like a swarm of hungry locusts. Abe, thewaiter, was just about swamped, and Ikey and Frenchy volunteered to helphim serve the vociferous crew. Yancey's other customers were very muchout of it for the time being.
They were a noisy crowd, but perfectly good-natured; and with thefreehandedness characteristic of the sailor ashore, bought the bestYancey could provide. The restaurant proprietor had no complaint tomake.
In the midst of the jollification a hush began to spread over the room.It began at the tables near the main entrance of the restaurant; thenthe men began to get briskly to their feet. With automatic precisionthey came to attention, saluting the officer who had entered with thatjerky little downward gesture of the forearm typical of the bluejacket.
Ikey, starting from the order window with a tray load of food, nearlydropped the whole thing on the floor in trying to salute.
"Ensign MacMasters!" hissed Torry for the benefit of the boys near, whodid not know the officer.
And over Ensign MacMasters' shoulder glowed the moon-like face of SevenKnott.
"Keep your seats, men," said the ensign quietly, returning the salute ingeneral. "You have half an hour to finish before we march to the dock.I take it you are all assigned to my present command?"
He nodded to Seven Knott. Then he took a chair at an empty table andordered coffee, while the boatswain's mate went around among the othertables making a list of the men's names and their former billets.
Under the eyes of a commissioned officer the boys behaved with much moredecorum; but it was still a jolly party that finally lined up on thesidewalk outside Yancey's, prepared to march to the dock.
Ensign MacMasters sought out Whistler Morgan to speak to personally:
"I shall expect you to keep the younger boys straight, Morgan. We'regoing to be in crowded quarters aboard the patrol boat. Mr. JuniorLieutenant Perkins has come back to his command and we are only guestsaboard," and Ensign MacMasters laughed.
"We are about to have a taste of rough weather outside, too, I fancy.But our instructions are to make the port where the _Kennebunk_ liesbefore the morning tide."
"Has the submarine patrol boat, Eight-hundred-eighty-eight, come intothe harbor, sir?"
"I have just been relieved of her command. I am assigned to take youchaps on her to the battleship. I understand that we shall have a threemonths' cruise in the _Kennebunk_ before we are returned to the_Colodia_," said the ensign.
Whistler's eyes sparkled. "Then some of us will have a chance ofhandling the big guns, sir?"
"That is the object, I believe. That, and the fact that the fullcomplement of the battleship's crew cannot be at once made up. Therewill be changes made in the crew of the _Colodia_ when she returns fromher European cruise. If you youngsters do well on the _Kennebunk_ someof you may soon be gunners' mates. The present cruise of the _Kennebunk_is mainly for practice work."
"Oh, sir! won't we see any active service in her?" cried Whistler.
Mr. MacMasters looked very mysterious. "You must not ask too manyquestions. I am telling you, Morgan, what is generally known about theorders under which the superdreadnaught sails. But we may see plenty ofreal work At least, we need not suppose that the _Kennebunk_ will runaway from any enemy submarine that may appear along this coast."
"Do you believe there are German subs over here again, sir?"
"It is my private opinion that at least one is here and more arecoming," declared Ensign MacMasters. "And there is a supply boat forthem lying somewhere off our coast, too. We ran down that _SarahCoville_ yesterday, by the way, with another cargo of oil aboard. Hercaptain and crew will surely be interned."
Mr. MacMasters had no more time to talk with Phil Morgan then. The menbeing ready, the march to the dock was made, Seven Knott bringing up therear to see that there were no loiterers.
"See that narrow streak!" ejaculated one fellow, when they came to thedock where the chaser was moored. "Oh, boy! got your sea legs with you?"
The slate-colored S. P. 888 looked to be no friend to a landsman,especially with the sea as it was just then. Beyond the craft the harborwas tossing in innumerable whitecaps, while through the breach betweenthe capes the Atlantic itself could be seen to be in ugly mood.
They got aboard; and as soon as the moorings were cast off thenewcomers were welcomed in friendly fashion, by the regular crew of thechaser, to most of whom Whistler Morgan and his three friends werealready known.
"Hey, garby! where d'you sleep on this hooker?" demanded one of thestrangers, hoarsely and behind the sharp of his hand, of a member of thechaser's crew. "Or do you go ashore at nights?"
"If we can't get ashore for the watch below," was the perfectly seriousreply, "every man gets a hook to hang on."
"You mean to hang his hammock on?"
"No such luck! There isn't room for hammocks on one of these chasers.Why, even the officer commanding has to sleep on a hammock slung outover the stern in pleasant weather."
"Good-night!" gasped Al Torrance. "Where does he sleep when it isn'tpleasant?"
"He doesn't sleep at all--or anybody else, as you'll probably find outto-night, garby," was the reply.
There was bound to be a deal of joking of this nature; but it was allgood-natured. The crew of the chaser were of course just as proud oftheir craft as the crew of the battleship is of their sea-home. Theyignored the inconveniences of the S. P. 888 and dilated upon her speedand what they hoped to do in her. She was even better than a destroyerfor getting right on top of a submarine and sinking that rat of the seawith depth bombs.
The
latter--metal cylinders weighing more than a hundred poundseach--were lashed in their stations at the bow and at the stern of thechaser. They were rigged to be dropped overboard a little differentlyfrom the method pursued upon the destroyers.
As the chaser shot across the harbor the strangers aboard remarked inwonder at the way in which she picked up speed. Within a couple of cablelengths from the shore she was going like a streak of light.
It was evident that the S. P. 888 was fully prepared for rough weather.Not only the depth bombs, but everything else on her decks were lashed.Passing between the capes, she plunged into a regular smother of roughwater, and at once the decks were drenched from stem to stern.
"What do you know about this?" demanded Al Torrance of Morgan. "Afellow wants to hang on to a handline like grim death to be sure to keepinboard. Hope they won't pipe us to quarters while this keeps up."
There seemed to be, however, no prospect of the sea's abating; and thecommander of the chaser had a considerable distance to go beforemorning, so he urged the engineer to increase rather than diminish thespeed.
With no regard to the comfort of her crew, the craft plowed along on herway to the port where the _Kennebunk_ awaited them. Naval vessels cannotwait on weather signals. "Orders are orders."
The forward deck was comparatively dry; but the after part of the vesselwas in a continual smother of spume and broken water. Now and then awave would charge and break over her, drowning everything and everybodyaft of the engines.
These waves seemed racing to overtake and smother the chaser. The tonsof water discharged upon her decks would have sunk a less buoyant craft.All she did was to squatter under the weight of the water like a duck,her propellers never missing a stroke!
Whistler Morgan and his chums did not remain below through this run. No,indeed! The hardiest stomach would feel squeamish at such times inquarters like those of the crew of the S. P. 888.
At least the Navy boys got fresh air on deck if they were batteredaround a bit. They were supplied with slickers, and they had been wetmany a time before.
Frenchy Donahue raised his shrill voice in the old dirge: "Aren't youglad you're a Navy man? Oh, mother!" and had not intoned the firstlachrymose verse through to the end before Ikey Rosenmeyer interruptedwith a shout:
"Look there! She's broke loose! Hey, fellers! don't you see it?"
They were hanging to a lubber line near the quarterdeck, which on thechaser was a part of the after deck having imaginary boundaries only,established by order of the chaser's commander.
The depth bomb lashed there was the object to which Ikey called hismates' attention. A line had snapped, and the heavy cylinder rolledslowly across the deck.
Suddenly the vessel heaved to starboard, and with a quick snap the bombrolled in the other direction, crashing against the port rail in a waywhich made Whistler Morgan cry out in warning:
"Have a care, fellows! If the safety pin isn't firmly inserted in thatbomb, and drops out, she may blow off."
"Great glory!" muttered Torry, "where will we be then?"
"It's pretty sure if she explodes we'll never join the _Kennebunk's_crew," was his chum's grim answer.