The Motor Boys Bound for Home; or, Ned, Bob and Jerry on the Wrecked Troopship

by Clarence Young

  CHAPTER V

  THE NIGHT ATTACK

  Instantly Ned and Bob turned to look in the direction indicated byJerry. Both the tall lad’s chums saw the individual referred to as “_lecochon_.”

  “It’s him all right!” asserted Bob, with complete disregard for therules of grammar.

  “But what’s he doing here?” demanded Ned.

  “That’s what I’d like to know,” said Jerry in a low voice. “It can’t bethat he feels so indignant at us for having honestly mistaken him forProfessor Snodgrass that he has followed us here.”

  “If he has,” voiced Ned, “he’ll find we have our gang with us, and he’dbetter watch his step!”

  “We’ll take no more of his insults,” declared Bob. “I’ve a good notionto go up to him now and ask him what his game is.”

  “No, don’t!” interposed Jerry, as his stout chum seemed about to putthis into execution. “Let’s lay low for a while, and see what we canfind out. No use starting anything. We’ve had trouble enough already.”

  “Exactly,” chimed in Ned. “There’s been enough of a hoodoo about thishomeward trip. Let’s get out to sea before we tackle _le cochon_. Thenhe can’t dodge us by getting off and walking ashore.”

  “He’s going below, anyhow,” remarked Jerry, as they saw the little mandescending a companionway. “He must feel at home. I didn’t know theyallowed any civilians to travel on the troopships.”

  “They’ve made an exception in his case,” decided Jerry. “Well, it isqueer, and I’d like to know what it all means. This man is an American,by his talk, but he isn’t at all like our dear old professor, no matterhow much he looks like him from the rear.”

  “I’d like to see the professor once more,” said Ned.

  “Same here,” agreed Bob. “Well, we’ll see him, I suppose, when we getback home. Gee! After what we’ve gone through it hardly seems as ifthere is any such a place.”

  “You said a mouthful, buddy!” exclaimed a tall soldier who wore the_croix de guerre_. “I’d rather see my back yard with the sunflowers andthe hollyhocks in it than all the gardens of the too-de-loories overhere.”

  The _Sherman_ was now again rapidly leaving the harbor of Brest andmaking her way toward the open sea.

  “There isn’t going to be much of a joy-ride about this,” observed Ned,as he and his chums found their sleeping quarters and stowed away theirfew belongings.

  “No; it’s too crowded,” decided Bob. “There isn’t much more elbow roomthan we had in the trenches.”

  “Trenches!” exclaimed Jerry. “Don’t name ’em!”

  Any one who heard, saw, or had any experience in connection withthe return of the first of our fighting forces back to their homesneed not be told that the transports were no place for a comfortablevoyage. While everything possible was done to insure the comfort of thesoldiers, the first requisite was to bring back as many as possiblein the shortest possible time, and also transport as many casualtiesas could safely and comfortably be accommodated. The recovered, orpartly recovered, wounded were the first consideration, and none ofthe soldiers who were comparatively well and strong, even though someof them had been in hospitals, begrudged an inch of space that wentto make life easier for those who had lost an arm, a leg, who weresuffering from the effects of gas or shell shock, or who were amongthe most terribly afflicted--some being blinded.

  So, as Bob said, the transport was no place for joy-riding. There wassuch a crowd that the soldiers had to stand up to eat, many of them,and they were glad of a place to sleep. They could not move around muchon the boat, big as it was.

  “Now we’re really on our way at last!” exclaimed Bob to his chums. “Anddo you know what I think will be the best thing to do?”

  “I can make a pretty good guess,” laughed Ned. “It has something to dowith eating, hasn’t it?”

  “Don’t get fresh,” advised the stout lad. “You may be thankful to me,later, for suggesting this.”

  “What were you going to say, Chunky?” asked Jerry. “Go on, tell me!Don’t mind the shrimp!”

  “Well, I was going to say it would be a good thing if we locatedthe place at the lunch counter where we’ll be handed our rations,”suggested Bob. “They’ll be giving the mess call soon, and if we knowwhere to fall in, and the shortest route to the dining car, so much thebetter.”

  “Not such a bad suggestion at that,” commented Jerry. “We’ll do it, oldtop!”

  “Yes, you said something--for once,” conceded Ned.

  Accordingly, led by Bob, who might perhaps qualify as an expert in thematter of eating, the three lads asked their way about the troopshipuntil they found where their particular company would be fed, and atabout what time.

  “About an hour more!” sighed Bob, as he looked at his wrist watch.

  “Listen to him!” cried Ned. “And it’s only a little while ago that _labelle Marie_ was feeding him!”

  “It’s the sea air!” confessed Bob. “It always did make me hungry!”

  There was not a great deal to do on board the _Sherman_--at leastduring the first day of the homeward-bound voyage. The soldiers stoodabout on deck, or sought such sheltered places as they could find, andsmoked, played cards, talked or read. Later on some entertainmentsmight be gotten up, it was said. But the wounded required the attentionof the nurses and the doctors, and the well and strong were well ableto shift for themselves.

  Bob’s wisdom in finding out in advance where they were to assemble atmess call proved to be a commendable bit of forethought. For while someof the soldiers hurried here and there in what approached confusion,the three chums got in line, and with a few other knowing ones wereamong the first to be fed.

  “Chunky, we’ve got to hand it to you!” complimented Jerry, as hecleaned his plate. “You sure are one good little feeder.”

  “And I take back all I said,” added Ned. “You may come to my party,Bob, when I have it.”

  “Thanks!” murmured the stout one, smiling between bites.

  After the dinner mess there was nothing to do until the middle of theafternoon, when word went around that there was to be boat drill. Thatis, each man was to be told where his station was, and what boat he wasto try to get into in case of danger. This program held for two days ofocean travel, until some began to complain of too many boat drills.

  But, in spite of the fact that the war was over, there was a chancethat a floating mine might be struck.

  Following the short boat drill, Ned, Bob, and Jerry came back to acomfortable place they had preempted on the after deck, and they weresitting there talking when Bob nudged Jerry, who was nearest him, andwhispered:

  “There he is again!”

  “Who?” asked the tall lad.

  “The pepper-pot,” was the answer. “_Le cochon!_”

  As he spoke he nodded toward a secluded and shadowed corner. There,staring at the three boys, they could make out the little bald-headedman of the restaurant. He was peering at them through his spectaclesover the top of what to the boys seemed to be a pamphlet and which hewas holding just below the level of his eyes.

  “Well, he’ll know us again, anyhow,” mused Jerry. And then, as ifconscious that he was under observation and had been detected in spywork, the peculiar individual hastily turned and went below.

  “I’d like to know what his game is!” exclaimed Ned.

  “So would I!” agreed Jerry.

  “We’ll have to keep watch,” said Bob. “He seems to have it in for us.”

  “Let’s see if we can find out something about him,” suggested Ned. “Wecan ask some of our officers, and, if they don’t know, maybe they canfind out from the ship’s captain. It may be this fellow is a Germanspy, or at least a Hun sympathizer, who would like to play some meantrick on those who put the ‘Fatherland’ on the blink.”

  “Yes, let’s see if we can get a line on him,” agreed Bob.

  Jerry was about to assent to this when the three chums were approachedby a group of their comrades who wan
ted them to join a party that wasgoing to call on some of the wounded who were below decks. This wasdone, and, for the time being, the queer little bald-headed man wasforgotten.

  Indeed the minds of the Motor Boys did not revert to him until latethat night when they were turning in, and then Jerry said:

  “We’ll make some inquiries in the morning.”

  The boys were tired enough to sleep soundly, even though their bedswere not as comfortable as those oftentimes they had stretched out onwhen in some camp. But they were too happy over going home to findfault, and soon all were asleep, as were hundreds all around them.

  It was shortly after midnight, Jerry declared later, stating that hehad glanced at his radium-faced wrist watch, when the midnight attacktook place. And it was made on Bob. He was sleeping between Ned andJerry, and they were awakened by hearing the stout lad yell.

  “What’s the matter?” demanded Jerry, suddenly awakening andinstinctively glancing at his watch. “What is it, Bob?”

  “I’ve got him! I’ve got him!” cried a voice savagely, and the toneswere not those of Chunky. Then followed the sound of a struggle.