“Reload forward torpedo tubes!”
The missiles went home, and the men stood by the firing button. This time there would be no miss, the ship was only a scant two hundred yards off!
“Fire!”
Again the torpedoes charged out and tore across the sea. Ehrlich could see their trail plainly, and they were heading directly for the center of the tramp streamer. One moment more … but again there were no explosions! Ehrlich threw down his cap with all the fury that was in him. What was this anyway? It was impossible. Those four torpedoes would have hit their mark easily. An old tub like this one would never carry a device to ward them off. He could not understand it. Why didn’t the ship move? Why was there no life aboard her? What made those torpedoes miss? It was incredible!
“To the surface!” He shouted, “I will blast her with the deck guns. No Allied boat will get away from me! For two wars I have given chase to enemy boats, and never a one escaped me. There will not be a first time, either!”
Ah, yes. For two wars he had been the killer of the seas. Death had been his favorite sport. Blasting ships and gunning the helpless survivors. Ofttimes the less-hardened men of his crew had grown sick at the sight of the wanton killing, but he, the great Ehrlich, had shown no emotion except pleasure. He thought over the time he had sent to the bottom that other tramp steamer in 1917. Its cargo had been horses, and when a torpedo had ripped its side off, those animals that had not died swam desperately toward the submarine. Then he shot them. Their pitiful cries went unheard, but his teeth were bared in a huge grin.
When the stupid fool of a sailor tried to stop him, he shot him, too. Nothing would ever interfere with his sport of killing! What did a hold full of animals mean to him … or the life of a person? Quickly his thoughts of the past came to an end as the nose of the sub broke the surface. He jumped to the conning tower and spun the wheel, opening the hatch. Behind him the crew clambered up the iron ladder and hopped to the deck, their heels making hollow clacking sounds against the plates.
IN a moment the cover was off the froward gun. Ehrlich himself crouched behind the sights while the others rammed a shell home into the breech. Straight ahead was the tramp. Six shells and the ship would go down. But why didn’t the fools move? The sub was in plain sight! By rights the lookout should have spotted it as they were surfacing!
Then … BLAM! And there was no sound of the shell crashing into the hull! But there was a hole in her all right. Again Ehrlich sent a shot off, but still there was no sound … only the unearthly sight of the hole appearing as if by magic! The crew stirred uneasily. They were a superstitious lot, and wanted nothing of this. One of the men starting forward.
“Sir … ” he began uncertainly.
Ehrlich didn’t move.
“Perhaps it would be better if … ”
With a lightning-like movement Ehrlich spun around.
“Silence, pig! So … you are afraid of the tub, eh? You think maybe it is infested with ghosts! You are all stupid fools. I can see in your eyes that you are afraid. This can be explained. It can be nothing other than a freak of sound!”
“But the torpedoes … ” one sailor broke in.
“Enough! We will find out later. This may even be a derelict, but what it is doing in the Passage I don’t know! Prepare to board her!”
Even as he said this, Ehrlich detected a faint, far-away odor in the air. Something very familiar, it was. But no matter! The men got a collapsible rubber boat over the side and stood waiting for orders.
The commander eyed them. “Well, go on, what are you waiting for?”
SIX sailors pushed off. By this time the sub had drifted within a hundred feet of the steamer. A faint wisp of smoke … or could it be the mist … rose from the funnel. The sides were red rust, and weeds of the sea gave it a greenish hue in spots. Ehrlich felt himself shudder. That smell … there it was again. It struck a note in his memory, but he could not place it. The men saw him sniffing and looked at him peculiarly.
A shout came from the men in the rubber boat. One threw up a hook with a rope attached and it caught on the rail. In a moment the others scrambled up the line. One came to the rail and called, “Sir, there is nothing here, nothing but … death I can feel it!”
“Nonsense!” Ehrlich roared. “Stay there, we’re coming alongside!”
The sub moved in closer, then swung around until it lay alongside of the steamer. A clammy chill crept over the commander. Something about this boat … and the way it smelt … sweet, like the smell of new mown hay. And in that was the faint odor of … horses! That was it! He looked up quickly … and this was the boat … the very same one! No, no, it couldn’t be possible! But there was the name on the side … the J. Dudley! Ehrlich screamed … he was going insane!
The men grabbed him by the arms and shook him. Those on deck slid down and got onto the sub. Ehrlich regained his composure and shouted for them to get below … they were getting out of here! But before anyone could move … it happened. The tramp steamer looming above started to topple! A great creaking of old metal rasped into the night. Men screamed in anguish and jammed in the conning tower. Ehrlich alone stood on the deck, his eyes wide with fear. The sub could not get away in time … the men went wild with panic!
AND THEN … screaming into his ears came the frenzied whinnies of hundreds of horses. Like a crowd of lost souls, they bleated out their plaintive cry. The killer of the seas was rooted to the spot. Every moment of that day in the distant past come back to him … those horses, swimming for their lives. The shots, and the way they went under.
The steamer was over him then … and his thoughts ended. With a terrible crashing of metal against metal, the steamer went over on the U-boat! Debris shot into the air. For a moment there was a whirlpool as they both went down. Then all was still. An oil-soaked commander’s cap floated to the surface. The killer of the seas was gone!
Beside the cap were four torpedoes, their power spent from pushing against the mat of seaweed on the ship’s side, a mat so thick and soft that the charges had nothing to set them off. What brought that ship up from the ocean’s bottom? Who knows … perhaps the sealed compartments held enough air to refloat it when enough metal rusted off. Or perhaps it was something else … !
***
Terror in the Grass
JOE MARTIN had been out hunting insects for his biology collection all morning and he was dead tired. Dropping his net and bottle to the ground, he flopped down beside it and rolled over on his back. He thought over the assortment of beetles, butterflies, and spiders, and mentally figured out the way they would lie on the specimen table.
Very idly he plucked pieces of grass and bit their ends off, then reached out for another. He did not notice the little clump of white flowers that grew nearby, and automatically reached his hand into their midst and pulled one up. Joe bit the end off and chewed on the stem.
His eyes popped open with surprise, for a remarkable change was coming over him — he was growing smaller, clothes and all! Struck dumb with astonishment, he couldn’t utter a word, but merely watched the fields about him growing into forests of fern and grass. He scrambled to his feet and clutched at a log. But it wasn’t a log, it was the handle of his butterfly net!
It got bigger and bigger until he could no longer hold on, and he slid to the ground. Looking around in fright, he almost passed out. He was standing beside his collection bottle, but no longer was it filled with harmless insects. Instead, it contained a hoard of primitive jungle beasts. Their bony, plated eyes glared out at him, while huge jaws opened in anger. He let out a groan. What could have caused this? Then he remembered, that flower, that was it!
Not daring to remain in the grass where the horrible beasts lurked, he lit out for a spot that he knew was open dirt. That spot was by the stone he had often used for home plate when they played baseball.
Ordinarily it was a few steps from where he lay down, but now he traveled for what seemed hours without seeing it. A horrible dragonfly
swooped down and eyed him hungrily. Its many eyes flashed, and its tail twitched. The thing crouched to spring, but Joe ducked under a rock. A moment later he would have been a meal!
HE was shaken with fright, for all around him were enormous, evil-looking monsters intent upon eating him. Slowly he crawled from his hiding place — right into the face of a black beetle. The huge pincers ground with a sickening crunch, and advanced on him! Never did he run so fast before. He darted through the grass, tripping over tangled vines and tearing his clothes on their thorny projections. It gradually dawned on him that he was lost.
Fortunately, being a scout, he knew that only way out lay in climbing a tree to determine his position, so he chose the tallest stem he could see. Up he went.
It was goldenrod weed, but it suited his purpose. There it was! The open patch he was looking for. He slid down slowly, hanging on tightly to the “trunk.” There was a grunt beside him, and he turned to stare into a pair of hideous, glaring eyes! A tentacle was thrown around him, and try as he might, he was dragged slowly into the jaws of a devil-bug.
Somehow, he freed an arm and snatched out his pocket knife. His biology training stood him in good stead. He remembered that the antennae of the insects were their weak spots, and without them they were helpless. The toothless mouth opened to devour him when the blade whipped out.
Two strokes and the antennae were off! The tentacle unwound and he jumped back, but his foot slipped, and he plunged toward the earth. He came up with a jerk, dangling in midair. In his fall he was hooked by his belt to one of the thorns; another inch and he would have been impaled upon that giant pin!
But he couldn’t remain like this, suspended in space, for any moment one of the denizens of the forest might decide to make a meal of him. He wiggled and squirmed, but try as he might, he couldn’t break loose. There was the rush of powerful wings, and his fears were fulfilled. A praying mantis has spotted him!
The green insect was the terror of the fields, with jaws that could rip and tear ruthlessly. Once those front legs grabbed a victim with their bony hooks, it was death, and now the demon moved toward him!
JOE fought against the thorn holding him until he was exhausted. His only chance in escaping the approaching mantis now was to attempt the drop to the ground. He took a deep breath, then cut his belt. The mantis, sensing his prey was getting away, leaped forward. Joe heard the claws clash together a hair’s breadth above him, and the jaws of the killer closed on the remnants of his belt. The ground “came up,” knocking the wind out of him.
Joe had no time to think; the mantis was behind him. He scrambled into the thick tangle of weeds, casting occasional glances over his shoulder. The green thing was still behind him! What to do?
There was a tunnel slanting down into the ground a little way off and he made for that, and dove in, head first. There was no time to see if it was occupied or not, with the mantis at his heels. The green creature’s intelligence was not enough to locate him, and in a few moments it stalked off. Joe dashed out of the hole and headed in the general direction of the “home plate.”
Every inhabitant of the grass watched him with glassy eyes and waving antennae. Some crawled after him, but with a little clever maneuvering they were outwitted, and Joe went sagely on. The terror was all around, from little wiggly things to giants in armor, with teeth and claws like dragons. Several times Joe almost ran into a clearing where two beetles were fighting to the death. At one place a tribe of ants battled over a huge bread crumb, but were too occupied to notice him.
The heat of the day was terrific. It seemed to bring out every species of life in this seemingly unreal insect world, and Joe stumbled about evading them. Once again, he climbed the stem of a weed, and saw that he was nearing his objective. When he climbed down he was extra careful to avoid the thorny branches, but his luck wasn’t with him. The branch pulled out and he went down!
The net that broke his fall was strong and elastic. He bounced up and down gently in its meshes until the swaying stopped, and he then tried to get down. But, he was caught! He couldn’t move at all. He lay in exactly the same position in which he had fallen.
The strands of the net were a silver-grey covered with an invisible sticky substance. Realization came swiftly. He dropped into a spiders’s web. Any moment the hideous death dealer would appear, and he was helpless.
Joe kicked furiously, the web bunched, but it was very elastic, stretching under his struggles, but not giving way.
Under Joe’s weight the web twisted into a dark funnel, out of which came the spider, an enormous, hairy-legged brute, covered with yellow and black spots. The slitted mouth dripped saliva while the bright specks that were eyes darted fire. It moved toward the boy, anticipating the meal that he would make. Joe’s eyes bulged. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. Slowly the spider advanced until he was over the figure of his victim. Two mittled legs encircled his body, and lifted him free of the web! The spider started back for the funnel!
Only one defense! Joe reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of matches, lit them, and tossed them into the net. In an instant the whole thing was a mass of flame! The hair on spider curled, and he dropped Joe, to scramble to safety! The fern below cushioned Joe’s fall, and he picked himself up, slightly singed, but unharmed. He knew that he wasn’t far from the clearing, and by gauging his course by the top of a tree in the distance, he would come to it in a few hours.
By now he was getting used to the bugs, and they no longer bothered him, but when he was suddenly confronted by a huge toad he jumped with fear. The toad took him for an insect, and its tongue shot out. This was something new!
Joe dodged the lightning thrust in time and ducked behind a log. The snake-like tongue followed him. When he managed to get out of reach of the tongue, the toad hopped forward and started searching again. Joe was tiring fast. He had been through so much that he was ready to drop.
At that moment a column of tiny insects marched by. The toad’s attention was taken by them, and the tongue darted out scooping them into its mouth by the dozens! Joe lost no time getting away.
JOE thought he’d never make it, but at last he caught sight of the clearing and rock. Good old home plate! He crawled through the dust to the stone and climbed up. Immediately he jumped to his feet. Why, he couldn’t stay here — the gang would play ball there that day he would be crushed under foot! He started back to the fields and the danger from which he had just escaped!
IT WAS then that a queer event took place: the sky darkened, and Joe looked up. A meteor was hurtling to earth! But it was unlike anything he had ever seen. Round and white, with strange, stitch-like markings, Joe opened his mouth — it was, yes, IT IS — a baseball!
Pete was yelling: “Hey, Joe, get up, the game’s started! If that ball hadn’t conked you, you’d have slept forever!”
***
Tight Spot
FLYING CADET ROBERT SUTTER stood in line with the rest and received his day’s flight instructions. The muscles in his legs and neck were jumping with the excitement of it all, for this was his first day “upstairs.” Up till now he was grounded in school, learning the mechanics of airplanes. Now he was ready to fly! With cheeks flushed, he listened to Captain Seeley giving instructions.
“These are your orders,” Seeley said. “Each training ship will cruise over the circle marked on your maps. Students will obey the instructors to the letter. Make three circles, then release the controls to the officer with you. He will land the plane. All right, men, hop to it!”
Student pilots scrambled madly to their places, eager to be off. At each plane a grease monkey inserted the crank handle, wound the inertia starter, and with a flick of the switch by the pilot, the motors roared into life.
One by one, the yellow training ships taxied slowly down the runway. Then they turned and faced the wind. The motor was “given the gun.” Tails came up and the planes posed for a brief second — then shot down the “apron.”
LIKE a flock
of ducks, they rose high into the blue sky. Each plane was designated to fly over a different area, so when a certain altitude was reached, the ships branched out in a giant fan heading for their own spots. Sutter traced his course with a finger then set the plane on it. Wind swished into the cockpit and blew against his face.
“Ahh!” he said, to nobody in particular. “This is the life!”
After ten minutes of straight flying, the instructor turned in his seat and signaled with his hand. “Right bank” was what it meant. Bobby Sutter touched right rudder and stick, and the plane wheeled in a long, slow turn. Next was a left turn. The cadet went through the maneuvers flawlessly. Never, even for a second, did he falter, or freeze to the stick. In ground school, he had learned his lessons well.
The instructor waved again, and Bobby put the ship through the few tricks he had learned. Long, sweeping figure eights, a stall, and a spin. In the front cockpit the instructor smiled to himself. He rarely got anyone who could handle a ship so smoothly the first time out. Usually the excitement got the better of the cadets and they forced every movement. Several times the kids froze the controls … held them in fists that were tightened by fear. Long ago he had given up the practice of cocking the student with a fire extinguisher. Now, he kept a full seltzer bottle beside him and one shot of water in the face would thaw out anybody. But this was not necessary now!
Bobby looked at his watch. A half-hour had passed since he took off, minutes that flew like seconds. He leaned over and slapped the top of the fuselage to attract the attention of the officer in front. The instructor turned around, saw what Sutter meant and checked with his own watch. His lips moved. “O.K., you did fine!” He gestured with his mouth.
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