CHAPTER XII

  COURAGE

  The four friends from Seacove were not the only members of the ship'scompany that saw the depth bomb break loose from its fastenings. Thesecond in command of the submarine chaser, Ensign Filson, and two seamenon lookout were on duty aft.

  "Stop that thing!" shouted the ensign.

  He was young and inexperienced, and he did not start for the rollingcylinder himself. Had it been Ensign MacMasters, Phil Morgan and hisfriends knew that he would have jumped for the bomb as he shouted theorder.

  The two lookouts were not supposed to leave their positions at such acall; but it was a direct command. They turned from their posts at therail where they were scanning the sea on either hand just as the depthbomb made its second plunge across the deck.

  It crashed into the port rail and then, as the chaser jerked her tail inthe heavy cross seas like a saucy catbird, the dangerous cylinder dashedto starboard again.

  "Stop it!" cried Mr. Filson for the second time; and just then _thesafety pin dropped out_!

  The first lookout had almost clutched the plunging cylinder as it passedhim on its backward roll.

  "Ware the bomb!" shouted his mate, and both of them leaped away from thevicinity of the peril.

  Nor were they to be blamed. With the pin out it was to be expected thatthe big bomb would immediately explode. It banged against the rail, thencharged across the deck again. Every time it collided with an obstaclethe spectators expected it to blow up and burst the after part of theship asunder.

  To the credit of Ensign Filson be it said that he did not fall back fromhis post on the quarter. Nor did he directly order, now that he thoughtof it, any particular man to try to hold the plunging bomb. It was workfor a volunteer--a man who was willing to take his life in his hands.

  There is a quality of courage that is higher than that which takes meninto battle along with their fellows. The companionship of others in thecharge breeds courage in many weak souls.

  But to start alone on a dangerous mission, the lone man in an almosthopeless cause, calls for a steadiness of courage that few can rise to.

  The four young fellows clinging together behind Mr. Filson were shotwith fear, as they might very well be. At any second the bomb was likelyto explode, and they were so near that they could not possibly escapethe full force of the blast.

  Even if the chaser herself escaped complete destruction, they could notdodge the effect of the explosion; but like the ensign they would notretreat.

  These bombs are timed to explode at about an eighty-foot depth. A veryfew seconds would bring about the catastrophe. Every man on the deck ofthe S. P. 888 felt that.

  Suddenly, along the deck charged a sturdy figure--a human battering ram.The other men were knocked aside. One of the lookouts was toppled overby the newcomer, falling flat upon his back and was shot by the nextplunge of the craft into the scuppers amidships.

  "Hi! Hi! Seven Knott!" yelled Al Torrance.

  "Good old _Colodia_! Go to it!" joined in the excited Frenchy.

  Philip Morgan was already crouching for a leap. Seven Knott passed himand threw himself upon the unleashed peril that rolled about the deck.

  He grasped the cylinder as he fell, but it was snatched out of his armsby the next plunge of the vessel. Seven Knott got to his knees andsought to seize the bomb again when it charged back across the deck.

  The thing seemed actually to evade him; and swinging at an unexpectedangle as Seven Knott threw himself desperately forward, the heavycylinder banged the boatswain's mate on the head.

  The man was knocked down by the blow. He suddenly straightened out andthen relaxed, at full length, upon the sliding deck. Like an inanimatelump his body followed the runaway bomb, but more slowly, to the lowerrail.

  Again the deck heaved upon that side, and the cylinder roared across it.It missed the unconscious petty officer. At that instant Whistler Morganmade his leap.

  He had taken time to study the angle at which the bomb was rolling; hefell upon and grappled it as though it were a football.

  "Oh! Oh! _Colodia!_" yelled his three mates in wild excitement."Hurray!"

  "Well done, _Colodia_!" echoed a voice behind them, and EnsignMacMasters appeared from the after hatchway, with the commanding officerof the S. P. 888 in his wake.

  Some of the chaser's crew were now approaching the scene from forward.Ensign Filson leaped for the safety pin that had been jerked out of thedepth bomb just as Phil Morgan, on his knees, set the bomb up on itsflat end.

  "Good boy, Whistler!" shrieked Torry.

  Ensign Filson reached the spot and slipped the plug into place. Betweenthem they held the bomb upright on its flat end until the seamen couldpass a line around it.

  The dangerous thing had yet to be held right there until LieutenantPerkins ordered the submarine chaser headed up into the sea. Then thebomb could be removed to a place of safety.

  The whole affair had occupied seconds, that is all. But all felt asthough an hour had passed!

  "Good boy, Morgan!" declared Ensign MacMasters, his face shining withapproval. "Is the mate hurt badly?"

  The petty officer was still unconscious. They picked him up to carry himbelow. Then the whole crowd began to cheer, and the officers did notforbid it. Even Lieutenant Perkins wrung Phil Morgan's hand as he stoodabashed in the center of the congratulatory group on the quarter deck.

  "I'd be proud to have you as one of my own crew, Morgan," said thecommander of the submarine chaser. "Ensign MacMasters is to becongratulated that he takes aboard the _Kennebunk_ such an altogetheradmirable young man. You will hear from this, Master Morgan. Youdeserve the Medal of Honor and whatever other honor and specialemolument it is in the power of the Secretary of the Navy to award."

  He turned to MacMasters: "And your boatswain's mate deserves mention,too. That he did not succeed in doing what this young man accomplished,was not for lack of courage to attempt it. They are both men that theNavy may be proud of. With a will, men!" and he led in another cheer.

  "Oi, oi, Whistler!" whispered Ikey when the greatly abashed Morgan wentforward, "you'll be an admiral next. If you beat me to it, what will mypapa and mama say?"