CHAPTER XVII
BLOWN UP
The change from the huge _Kennebunk_ to the comparatively tiny steamerwas great indeed; and for the first few hours of the run shoreward theboys were afraid they would be ill. There was a heavy swell on, and thetender rode up the hill of each roller, and slid down the other side,dizzily.
They were two hundred miles off shore and three hundred from HamptonRoads. The time occupied in the journey could not be much less thanthree days and two nights. She was much slower than the motor boats; butshe sailed much more safely, and the injured man could be made morecomfortable on deck under the awning.
The poor fellow complained a good deal about having had his voyage cutshort.
"No chance for me to get a crack at the Huns," he repeated again andagain.
The boys from Seacove tried to comfort him. Ensign MacMasters told himthat he had done his share, even if his fate was not so brilliant asthat of men shot down in battle.
"I wouldn't mind being shot for my country," said the poor fellow. "ButI hate like a dog to be boiled for it! There ain't nothing heroic inthis, Ensign."
The cruise of the steamer was not unattended with peril. They wereconfident that German U-boats were beginning to infest the sea borderingon the Atlantic coast of the United States. One might pop up at any timeand take a shot at the tender.
A sharp lookout was kept, and the gun crews scarcely slept. Every sailor streamer of smoke created excitement on board.
But the first night passed in safety and the day broke charmingly. Thesteamer was kept at top speed. Everything was going smoothly when, aboutmidforenoon, they sighted a strange vessel hull down and somewhat to thenortheast of their course.
It was rather hazy, and the strange craft was at some distance. Hercourse was not one to bring her very near that of the battleship'ssteamer.
She did not appear to be more than two hundred feet long, and theconcurrence of opinion was that she was some small tramp freight boatand was laden heavily. She had a high bow, rail all around, and, as faras could be seen, she flew no flag at all.
"Some old tub taking a chance with a rich cargo," suggested the warrantofficer, as Ensign MacMasters' second in command. "Why, at the presenttime, freight rates are so high and wages so much advanced, thatshipowners can find skippers and crews willing to take regular sieves tosea!"
"She looks peculiar," Mr. MacMasters said. "If it wasn't for Grant,here, being in such pain, poor fellow, I'd throw a shell at her and holdher up. But we've got our orders to hasten to the Roads and return againto the _Kennebunk_ as soon as possible."
Therefore the strange craft was allowed to pass unchallenged. Later theyhad reason to believe that they had made a small mistake regarding theunknown vessel, yet they had made no mistake in allowing her to gounmolested.
In time they raised the Capes of Virginia, and a few hours later steamedinto the dock at Fortress Monroe. Grant, the injured fireman from the_Kennebunk_, was taken ashore and sent to the marine hospital.
Ensign MacMasters had his full orders from the commander of thebattleship; but he had a wireless message relayed to the _Kennebunk_stating his arrival. The wireless instrument aboard the steamer was oftoo narrow a radius to reach the superdreadnaught in her presentposition.
Orders were soon repeated for the auxiliary craft to make for thebattleship again, and laying the course for Ensign MacMasters to follow.There were storm signals flying; but the steamer was to keep near theshore until she got around Hatteras. It was presumed that she would findthe _Kennebunk_ within a week at the most, and the tender was wellprovisioned and took on extra fuel at the dock.
She went to sea without the boys having had an hour of shore leave; butthey did not mind that. The fun of running on the steamer was all right;but they were getting eager now to return to the superdreadnaught.
They ran out between the Capes into what the warrant officer called "aLiverpool particular," meaning a fog almost thick enough to cut with acheese-knife.
Every once in a while the nose of a steel-gray ship, small or large,poked through the mist, and her growling siren warned the smaller craftto get out of the way.
These patrol boats were very plentiful off the Virginia Capes at thattime. A mine-laying enemy submarine would have small chance getting intoHampton Roads.
But that such a craft was in the vicinity the crew of the _Kennebunk's_tender learned was the fact within a few hours. Their course wassoutherly, and almost in sight of the coast in clear weather. But theybroke out of the fog bank the next morning to see dead ahead two boats,each pulled by four pair of oars, wearily approaching the course of thecoastwise steamships.
"I smell a U-boat about!" declared Ensign MacMasters, when he haddirected the steamer's course to be changed to run down to therow-boats.
He was right. The boats contained the crew of the schooner _Hattie May_,out of Baltimore, which had been shelled and sunk twenty-four hoursbefore by a German undersea craft.
And the report of the wearied crew included a description of thesubmarine. She was camouflaged by a high bow and a rail all around, aswell as by a canvas smokestack to make her look like a tramp freighter.
"The craft we raised going into the Roads!" ejaculated the warrantofficer. "It's her, for a penny!"
"No argument," growled Ensign MacMasters. "We fell down that time.Although we might have had our hands full if we had tackled her with ourtwo small guns."
It seemed that the disguised undersea boat mounted four guns on herdeck, but she was a slow sailer. She had moved up close to the schoonerbefore showing her teeth.
Then she dropped two shells near the _Hattie May_ to show the skipperthat she had the range of his schooner. He had to surrender, and theU-boat moved up and gave him and his crew ten minutes to get into theboats. Then they sank the _Hattie May_ by hanging bombs over her sidesand exploding them simultaneously by an electric arrangement.
The skipper of the schooner was taken aboard the U-boat and said he wasshown all over the ship. The German captain seemed to be inordinatelyproud of his craft and what she could do.
"She's got torpedoes, but she don't use 'em because they are expensive,"said the skipper. "They are saved for a last resort. But she is a minelayer, for I saw two wells and saw the mines, too. She has been out fiveweeks and is numbered U-Two Hundred Fifty."
"Two hundred fifty!" gasped Whistler to his chums, who were hanging overthe rail to listen to this report. "What do you know about that?"
"That's the very number that man Blake used in the restaurant, talkingwith the skipper of the oil tender, wasn't it?" asked Frenchy of thequick memory.
"You mean Franz Linder, the German spy!" ejaculated Torry, withemphasis. "He spoke of this very sub."
"You bet!" agreed Ikey.
The steamer's wireless operator was sending out an S O S call and adestroyer quickly answered. The steamer remained by the two boats fromthe sunken schooner until the fast-flying naval vessel appeared in thewest.
After that the boys on the steamer kept their eyes open for sight of thecamouflaged U-boat. As the boat picked up speed again and kept to hercourse. Whistler Morgan and his mates discussed the matter with muchexcitement.
"Do you s'pose Mr. MacMasters will let us shell the Hun?" demandedFrenchy eagerly.
"She'll more likely shell us," declared Torry, inclined to bepessimistic.
"I bet we can run away from her," cried Ikey Rosenmeyer.
"Say! this tender is no sub chaser. In a race with the S. P. 888, forinstance, she wouldn't have a chance."
"Aw, well," Frenchy broke in, "that U-boat will not have a speed of overfourteen knots on the surface. We can do better than that."
"But if she sneaks up on us as that other one did on the _Kennebunk_,"Whistler observed, "we might easily be potted."
"Right-o!" declared Torry. "Whichever way you put it, I don't want tosee that U-boat till we're aboard the _Kennebunk_ again--if ever."
After leaving the crew of the _Hattie May_ to be picked up by th
edestroyer, the tender continued to run parallel with the coast. Land wasseldom wholly out of sight, for Mr. MacMasters had orders as to hiscourse, expecting to meet the superdreadnaught on that vessel's returnfrom the south.
The fog in which they had run out from the Capes was the forerunner of astorm which increased as the day advanced. The gale was behind them,however, so there was no fear of the tender being cast ashore.
The sea around Cape Hatteras is notoriously rough in a gale, and theoutlook was not promising when they sighted Hatteras Light that evening.Seaworthy as the steamer was, she pitched terrifically in the seas thatthreatened now to overwhelm her.
There was a pale and watery moon that evening, with wind-driven cloudsscurrying across its face and quenching its light every few minutes. Thesteamer pitched so that her propeller was frequently entirely out of thesea.
Phil Morgan, in his watch on deck, thought the situation was as nasty asany he had experienced since joining the Navy. With every hatch and doorbattened to keep the seas from flooding her, they ran on, makingscarcely five knots an hour. Now and then they were completelyoverwhelmed with the seas; and always the craft plunged and kicked asthough she actually had to fight for supremacy with each wave.
As the bitter night crept on they wore around the Cape, and then, whenit seemed safe to do so, Ensign MacMasters ordered the helm shifted andthey edged farther in toward the land.
In time the out-thrust of the coast partly sheltered them and thesteamer ran into more quiet waters. But the gale still held, and fromthe same quarter.
They sighted only smacks and other small fry, including some fewcoastwise steamers whose routes hugged the land. Surely they mightexpect safety from submarines so far inshore, for this coast istreacherous.
Another day and night passed. The wireless operator had thus far failedto raise the _Kennebunk_, although he called every hour.
Mr. MacMasters and the warrant officer studied the chart anxiously.There were shallow waters hereabout, and although the steamer demandedlittle depth, there were bights between the reefs that were dangerous.
At daybreak of the fourth day out they were in the track of Charlestoncraft and quite near to a string of islands. There was plenty of waterbetween the two outer islands. The passage was, indeed, a popularchannel for both steam and sailing vessels.
The _Kennebunk's_ tender was half way through this gut when suddenly,and without warning, it seemed as though the bow of the craft hitsquarely upon a rock.
She stopped with an awful shock, seemed to rebound, and then the forwardpart rose on a wave that shot it into the air. The explosion thatfollowed was muffled; but the sea about the doomed craft fairly boiled.
"We're sinking! All hands on deck!" shouted the warrant officer.
The boatswain's mate piped his shrillest. Those below swarmed upon thealready settling deck. It was plain at once that the steamer had but afew moments to live.
"A mine!" declared Ensign MacMasters. "That is what did it! That Hunmine-sower has been this way!"
The men and boys went to quarters coolly. They had been drilling everyday on the steamer just as though they were aboard the _Kennebunk_.
There was both a liferaft and a tight yawl aboard. These were got overinto the comparatively quiet sea, water and an emergency ration-cask putaboard each, and Mr. MacMasters brought his instruments and papers,taking his place in the stern of the boat. The latter had a smallengine, and there was a hawser with which she might tow the raft.
Meanwhile the wireless operator had been calling for help. He got areply from a land station, but none from any sister naval ship. However,they were so near land that it did not seem that this mattered.
"Let her go, boy!" shouted the ensign to the operator. "Come on! She'sgoing down."
They pulled away just in time, and got the little engine to kicking asthe wrecked auxiliary craft of the _Kennebunk_ sank stern foremost underthe sea. As she went down her bows rose out of the water and thecastaways saw the great wound torn in two of her water-tightcompartments by the mine.
Navy Boys Behind the Big Guns; Or, Sinking the German U-Boats Page 17
