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The Boy AlliesWith the Victorious Fleets
ORThe Fall of the German Navy
By ENSIGN ROBERT L. DRAKE
AUTHOR OF
"The Boy Allies With the Navy Series"
A.L. BURT COMPANY NEW YORK]
The Boy Allies
(Registered in the United States Patent Office)
With the Navy Series
* * * * *
By Ensign ROBERT L. DRAKE
* * * * *
The Boy Allies on the North Sea Patrol or, Striking the First Blow at the German Fleet
The Boy Allies Under Two Flags or, Sweeping the Enemy from the Sea.
The Boy Allies with the Flying Squadron or, The Naval Raiders of the Great War.
The Boy Allies with the Terror of the Seas or, The Last Shot of the Submarine D-16.
The Boy Allies in the Baltic or, Through Fields of Ice to Aid the Czar.
The Boy Allies at Jutland or, The Greatest Naval Battle in History.
The Boys Allies Under the Sea or, The Vanishing Submarine.
The Boy Allies with Uncle Sam's Cruisers or, Convoying the American Army Across the Atlantic.
The Boy Allies with the Submarine D-32 or, The Fall of the Russian Empire.
The Boy Allies with the Victorious Fleet or, The Fall of the German Navy.
Copyright, 1919
By A.L. BURT COMPANY
* * * * *
THE BOY ALLIES WITH THE VICTORIOUS FLEET
CHAPTER I
ABOARD U.S.S. PLYMOUTH
"Sail at 4 a.m.," said Captain Jack Templeton of the U.S.S. Plymouth,laying down the long manila envelope marked "Secret." "Acknowledge bysignal," he directed the ship's messenger, and then looked inquiringlyabout the wardroom table.
"Aye, aye, sir," said the first officer, Lieutenant Frank Chadwick.
"Ready at four, sir," said the engineer officer, Thomas; and left hisdinner for a short trip to the engine room to push some belated repairs.
"Send a patrol ashore to round up the liberty party," continued CaptainTempleton, this time addressing the junior watch officer. "Tell them tobe aboard at midnight instead of eight in the morning."
"Aye, aye, sir," said the junior watch officer, and departed in haste.
There was none of the bustle and confusion aboard the U.S.S. Plymouth, atthat moment lying idle in a British port, that the landsman would commonlyassociate with sailing orders to a great destroyer. Blowers began to humin the fire rooms. The torpedo gunner's mates slipped detonators in thewarheads and looked to the rack load of depth charges. The steward made alast trip across to the depot ship. Otherwise, things ran on very much asbefore.
At midnight the junior watch officer called the captain, who had turned inseveral hours earlier, and reported:
"Liberty party all on board, sir."
Then he turned in for a few hours' rest himself.
The junior watch was astir again at three o'clock. He routed out a sleepycrew to hoist boats and secure for sea. Seven bells struck on thePlymouth.
Captain Templeton appeared on the bridge. Lieutenant Chadwick was at hisside, as were Lieutenants Shinnick and Craib, second and third officersrespectively. Captain Templeton gave a command. The cable was slipped fromthe mooring buoy. Ports were darkened and the Plymouth slipped out. A bitinside the protection of the submarine nets, but just outside thechannel, she lay to, breasting the flood tide. There she lay for almost anhour.
"Coffee for the men," said Captain Templeton.
The morning coffee was served on deck in the darkness.
Lights appeared in the distance, and presently another destroyer joinedthe Plymouth. Running lights of two more appeared as the clock struck 4a.m.
Captain Templeton signalled the engine room for two-thirds speed ahead.Running lights were blanketed on the four destroyers, and the ships fellinto column.
Lieutenant Chadwick felt a drop on his face. He held out a hand.
"Rain," he said briefly.
Jack--Captain Templeton--nodded.
"So much the better, Frank," he replied.
The four destroyers cleared the channel light and spread out like a faninto line formation.
"Full speed ahead!" came Jack's next command.
The Plymouth leaped ahead, as did her sister ships on either side.
"We're off," said Frank.
Away they sped in the darkness, a division of four Yankee destroyers,tearing through the Irish sea on a rainy morning; Frank knew there werefour ships in line, but all he could see was his guide, a black smudge inthe darkness, a few ship lengths away on his port bow. Directly she wasblotted from sight by a rain squall.
"Running lights!" shouted Frank.
The lights flashed. Frank kept an eye forward. Directly he got a returnflash from the ship ahead, and then picked up her shape again.
Morning dawned and still the fleet sped on. Toward noon the weathercleared. Officer and men kept their watches by regular turn during theday. At sundown the four destroyers slowed down and circled around in aslow column. The eyes of every officer watched the clock. They werewatching for something. Directly it came--a line of other ships,transports filled with wounded soldiers returning to America. These mustbe safely convoyed to a certain point beyond the submarine zone by thePlymouth and her sister ships.
On came the transports camouflaged like zebras. The Plymouth and the otherdestroyers fell into line on either side of the transports.
"Full speed ahead," was Captain Templeton's signal to the engine room.
"Take a look below, Frank," said Jack to his first officer.
"Aye, aye, sir."
Frank descended a manhole in the deck. He closed the cover and secured itbehind him. At the foot of the ladder was a locked door. As it opened,came a pressure on Frank's ear drums like the air-lock of a caisson.Frank threaded his way amid pumps and feed water heaters and descendedstill further to the furnace level.
Twenty-five knots--twenty-eight land miles an hour--was the speed of thePlymouth at that moment. It was good going.
Below, instead of dust, heat, the clatter of shovels, grimy, sweatingfireman, such as the thought of the furnace room of a ship of war calls tothe mind of the landsman, a watertender stood calmly watching the glow ofoil jets feeding the furnace fire. Now and then he cast an eye to thegauge glasses. The vibration of the hull and the hum of the blower werethe only sounds below.
For the motive power of the Plymouth was not furnished by coal. Rather, itwas oil--crude petroleum--that drove the vessel along. And though oil hasits advantage over coal, it has its disadvantages as well. It was Frank'sfirst experience aboard an oil-burner, and he had not become used to ityet. He smelled oil in the smoke from the funnels, he breathed it from theoil range in the galley. His clothes gathered it from stanchions andrails.
The water tanks were flavored with the seepage from neighboringcompartments. Frank drank petroleum in the water and tasted it in thesoup. The butter, he thought, tasted like some queer vaseline. But Frankknew that eventually he would get used to it.
"How's she heading?" Frank asked of the chief engineer.
"All right, sir," was the reply. "Everything perfectly trim. I can getmore speed if necessary."
Frank smiled.
"Let's hope it won't be necessary, chief," he replied.
H
e inspected the room closely for some moments, then returned to thebridge and reported to Captain Templeton.
The sea was rough, but nevertheless the speed of the flotilla was notslackened. It was the desire of Captain Petlow, in charge of the destroyerfleet, to convoy the transports beyond the danger point at the earliestpossible moment.
The Plymouth lurched up on top of a crest, then dived head-first into thetrough. On the bridge the heave and pitch of the vessel was feltsubconsciously, but the eyes and minds of the officers were busied withother things. At every touch of the helm the vessel vibrated heavily.
Eight bells struck.
"Twelve o'clock," said Frank. "Time to eat."
The bridge was turned over to the second officer, and Frank and Jack wentbelow.
"Eat is right, Frank," said Jack as they sat down. "We can't dine in thisweather."
It was true. The rolling boards, well enough for easy weather, proved amockery in a sea like the one that raged now. Butter balls, meat andvegetables shot from plates and went sailing about. It was necessary todrink soup from teacups and such solid foods as Jack and Frank put intotheir stomachs was only what they succeeded in grabbing as they leapedabout on the table.
The two returned on deck.
The day passed quietly. No submarines were sighted, and at last theflotilla reached the point where the destroyers were to leave the homewardbound transports to pursue their voyage alone. The transports soon grewindistinguishable, almost, in the semi-darkness. The senior naval officeraboard the Plymouth hoisted signal flags.
"Bon Voyage," they read.
Through a glass Jack read the reply.
"Thank you for your good work. Best of luck."
From the S.N.O. (senior naval officer) came another message. Frank pickedit up.
"Set course 188 degrees. Keep lookout for inbound transports to beconvoyed. Ten ships."
Again the destroyer swung into line. It was almost seven o'clock--afterdark--when the lookout aboard the Plymouth reported:
"Smoke ahead!"
Instantly all was activity aboard the destroyers. Directly, through hisglass, Jack sighted nine rusty, English tramp steamers, of perhaps eightthousand tons, and a big liner auxiliary flying the Royal Navy ensign.
Under the protection of the destroyers, the ships made for an Englishport. The night passed quietly. With the coming of morning, the flotillawas divided. The Plymouth stood by to protect the big liner, while theother three destroyers and the tramp steamers moved away toward the east.
"This destroyer game is no better than driving a taxi," Frank protested toJack on the bridge that afternoon. You never see anything. I'd like to getashore for a change. I've steamed sixty thousand miles since last May andwhat have I seen? Three ports, besides six days' leave in London."
"You had plenty of time ashore before that," replied Jack.
"Maybe I did. But I'd like to have some more. Besides, this isn't veryexciting business."
Night fell again, and still nothing had happened to break the quietmonotony of the trip. Lights of trawlers flashed up ahead. Interest on thebridge picked up.
"Object off the port bow," called the lookout.
"Looks like a periscope," reported the quartermaster.
Frank snapped his binoculars on a bobbing black spar.
"Buoy and fishnet," he decided after a quick scrutiny.
Frank kept the late watch that night. At 4 a.m. he turned in. At five heclimbed hastily from his bunk at the jingle of general alarm, and reachedthe bridge on the run in time to see the exchange of recognition signalswith a British man-o'-war, which vessel had run into a submarine while thelatter was on the surface in a fog. The warship had just rammed theU-boat.
"Can we help you?" Frank called across the water.
"Thanks. Drop a few depth charges," was the reply.
This was done, but nothing came of it Frank returned to his bunk.
"Pretty slow life, this, if you ask me," he told himself.
He went back to sleep.