CHAPTER XXII
DAVE'S NIGHT OF AGONY
"The 'Griswold' sinking! And Belle on board!" hurried into Dave Darrin'smind as he heard further details and learned that the stricken liner laytwenty-five miles away, sou'-sou'-west from the "Grigsby's" presentposition.
He darted through the doorway and sprang for the bridge.
"Full speed to the 'Griswold'!" he commanded as he darted up the bridgestairs.
But Ensign Weedon had already worked the engine-room telegraph, andhardly had Dave rested two unsteady hands on the bridge rail when hefelt the dashing spray in his face, for the "Grigsby" was racing like ahound just freed from its leash.
"Heading straight to the position reported, sir," stated Ensign Weedon.
Lieutenant Fernald, also summoned, came hurrying to the bridge a fewmoments later.
"Like as not some of our own friends are on the 'Griswold'," mutteredFernald. "I understand she carries a large passenger list."
"My wife is on board," answered Darrin with a calmness that he did notfeel.
Fernald's face fell.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Darrin. We'll do our best to reach the ship in time!"
"Yes, we'll do our level best and go our fastest, just as we would hurryto aid any other stricken ship," Darrin rejoined, steadily, though hishands gripped the rail so tightly that they showed white at theknuckles.
Weedon had already wirelessed to the "Griswold" that help was comingswiftly. Dalzell's craft, too, had picked up the radio messages tellingof the "Griswold's" desperate plight. Dan was thirty-two miles away fromthe ship that bore Belle Darrin.
Then from the "Griswold" came this message:
"Listing so that cannot use bow or stern guns. Submarine risen and isshelling us!"
"The monsters!" groaned Dave, as Fernald, in an unsteady voice, read theradio message to him. "Ask how long the 'Griswold' can keep afloat ifnot hit further."
This message was sent, bringing back the alarming word:
"Cannot say, but submarine moving closer. Evidently determined to makeswift job of us."
"And of course the German hears these messages!" groaned Dave. "He mayeven have the key to our code with commercial ships. He will now do hisbest and quickest to send the liner to the bottom!"
Ten minutes later this came in by way of the "Grigsby's" aerials:
"S. O. S.! Taking to our boats on starboard side. Enemy on our port! S.O. S. 'Griswold'."
"And we are still fifteen miles away!" moaned Dave.
His face was calm, but ghastly white. His lips were tightly closed overfirmly set jaws. "Fifteen miles away!"
"The turbines are doing every ounce of work that is in them," saidLieutenant Fernald, in a low voice.
"I know it," Dave answered dully, staring ahead into the night. "AndDalzell will be even longer than we in reaching the 'Griswold'."
"If you could tell the captain of the 'Griswold' how long it will takeyou to reach him, he might know better what to do--how to hold out moresuccessfully," suggested Fernald.
"And, if the German knows the code we are using he would know how longhe could continue his wicked work and still have chance to get away,"Darrin replied. "I must not send him that information. Fernald, I havesome hope that I may be able to find that German pirate still on thesurface. If I do--"
Darrin did not finish, but on his face there was an expression that wasboth prayer and threat.
The watch officer counted the miles as they were reeled off and toldDave, from time to time, how many miles yet remained to be covered.
On the bridge were screened lights--one over the bridge compass, that thequartermaster might see to keep the ship on her course; another lightplaced under the hood that protected the chart table.
No other light appeared, and no light whatever could have been made outon the destroyer by any one from a near-by craft.
The minutes ticked slowly by--eternities they were to Dave Darrin.
Nearer and nearer, every minute, yet was there hope of arriving in time?
"By--by Jove!" cried Fernald, at last, under his breath.
"I see it," Dave replied quietly. "And there is another--flashes from theGerman craft's deck guns. We see them on account of the elevation of theguns, though we do not yet see the German hull through the glass."
"I can make out the 'Griswold'," Fernald exclaimed. "Over there! Seeher, yonder? She is low in the water."
"Yes; she must soon sink, or I am a poor guesser," Dave rejoined. "Look,Fernald! Isn't the liner lowering her port boats now?"
"Yes, sir, and shoving rafts over, too."
"The rafts? Ah, yes! Near the finish now, and the 'Griswold's' skipperhas given up hope of our help. Putting the rafts overboard is always thefirst step in a wreck."
Though hoping against hope, Fernald telephoned the engine room, urgingthe engineer to try to get a little more speed from the engines. Thechief engineer officer, himself in charge below, did his best. Billowsof black smoke hung over the water astern. Bit by bit the strainingengines provided more, and then a little more speed.
If it were but daylight! Men stood by the "Grigsby's" guns, ready tofire at the word--to sight by guess, should the lieutenant-commander onthe bridge call for it. Dave might have thrown on the searchlight.Should the white ribbon of light appear now, while still so far away,the German commander would know how soon to submerge.
And Dave Darrin wanted the lives of those Germans! He was notblood-thirsty, and heretofore had fought because it was his duty tofight. Now he HATED these German fiends! If he could send fifty of themto the bottom, that would be excellent. If he could drown a hundred ofthe Hun pirates, that would be fine! To send a thousand of them to thebottom of the Atlantic Ocean--that would be something worth while!
But to send that beam of clear white light across the ocean--to signalthe German commander, in effect, the word "Dive!"--that would becriminal.
"Fernald!" cried Dave, hoarsely.
"Sir?"
"Can you make out the enemy hull?"
"No, sir."
"Try!"
"I cannot make it out yet, sir," replied Lieutenant Fernald, loweringthe glass from his eyes. "But look--the first streaks of dawn are behindus."
"That will be of no assistance for ten minutes or more," answered Dave."Ten minutes! It will all be over then. Look at that flash from thescoundrel's gun!"
The German was now shelling the boats that were trying to slip away inthe darkness. Next, undoubtedly, the Hun would begin firing on therafts, which could move little faster than the waves that slipped themalong.
"Never again any mercy to a pirate! Not one surrender will I acceptafter this! All Germans who fall into my clutches shall go to thebottom!"
Lieutenant Fernald turned his head aside to hide a bitter smile. He didnot blame Dave; his heart ached for that gallant young commander. Yetwell enough Fernald knew that Darrin would never, once his rage hadpassed, sink a helpless foe, no matter how much he despised the wretch.
They could now, through the night glass, make out a German sailor whostood forward on the submarine's hull, a lookout, doubtless scanning thedark lines of the destroyer rushing to the rescue. It must be thatlookout's business to try to judge the distance of the destroyer, thatthe submersible might remain on the surface long enough to wreak allpossible havoc on the lifeboats. Then, at the last moment, the submarinewould submerge, that its commander, crew and craft might survive toassassinate ships' companies on another day!
"He knows I won't use my searchlight--he's daring me!" muttered Dave,savagely. "But, by the great Dewey! I'll use that light in thirtyseconds more. Fernald, tell me when the time is up!"
Dave's next word was passed to the officer in command of the forwardguns, and by that officer to the skilled, cool gun-pointers.
None except Darrin, Fernald and the watch officer knew that Belle Darrinwas a passenger on the ill-fated "Griswold."
"Let your first shots set this craft's record!" was the divisionofficer's quiet command to the
gun-pointers.
No message could have been more inspiring to these veterans, on a newship, knowing that she was one of the best of the destroyer fleet.
The "Grigsby" came rushing, roaring in, and then, slowing down, wentclose to the foremost of the boats from the sinking liner.
From the submarine a shell arched and struck in that boat, tearing outthe bottom and throwing the occupants into the sea.
"Searchlight!" commanded Darrin.
Hardly a second did the light waver in the sky, then settled down acrossthe submarine, making a fair mark of her.
A double bark leaped out from the forward guns. Never had pieces beenbetter served, for one shell tore a big, jagged hole in the starboardhull of the enemy, the bottom of the rent being barely six inches fromthe water. The second shell went in just below the water-line, throwingup a geyser-like jet of water.
"A just fate, but a pity it could not have been made ten times moresevere," muttered Dave, as, through the glass, he saw the submersiblecareen under the impact, with a swift listing to starboard.
There was no use bothering further about the fate of the enemy. That wasalready settled. There were travelers, many of them Americans, to besaved as far as saving could be done.
As though to keep the submersible mocking company, the "Griswold" gave afinal lurch, then settled quietly under the waves despite the immensityof her hull.
"Put around to port--back!" shouted Darrin, his voice now cool and steadyas the realization of his rescue duties came to him. "Slow," he added,warningly. "We must be careful not to upset those boats with our wash."
After making the turn, Darrin ordered the speed reduced still more, ashe saw human figures ahead on the dark waves--some swimming, othersfloating in death.
Not waiting for the order the searchlight men deflected the light,sending a beam out across the waters as the "Grigsby," moving slowlyenough now, steamed along to one side of the forms in the water. Otherseamen, at the edge of the slippery deck, stood by to heave lines tothose who could grasp them.
The light, as it rested upon the water at a point seventy-five yardsfrom the destroyer, revealed a woman's features.
Dave gave a start, rubbing his eyes as though sure he was the victim ofsome hideous illusion.
His eyesight was excellent; there could be no mistaking.
"Belle!" burst from him, in a convulsive sob.
Before those with him could divine his purpose, Dave Darrin leaped fromthe bridge to the deck below.
An agonized moment he devoted to the removing of cumbersome rubberboots. Less than half as much time was required to throw off cap andcoat. Then bounding forward, he leaped and sprang out, his clasped handscleaving the water ahead of him as he struck through the waves.
Another splash, half a second later. But Darrin did not know thatanother swam behind him.