"NO MORE MEN GO OVERBOARD!"
In a time like this a man's coolness and nerve receive the utmost test.
Had Jack Benson been there at the wheel he would have swung both hands
to the diving controls and shot below the surface.
But Cadet Osgoodby, now at the wheel, did not sufficiently understand
the use of the diving controls.
Whatever was to be done had to be accomplished in the fewest seconds,
or the little submarine craft was bound to be ground to scrap iron
under the great bows of the steamship.
Both of the other midshipmen saw the danger in the same instant as did
Midshipman Osgoodby.
Yet neither of these young men knew better what to do than did the
third. All they could do was to stiffen and to stand loyally beside
their comrade in charge.
Perhaps for not half a second did Osgoodby hesitate.
Then he took the only chance that he saw; he threw the wheel over to
port, jamming it there.
In strained, awful silence, the three waited. Never had seconds seemed
so long before--not even under water.
On came the great liner, and now her bow was right atop of the bow at
the forward end of the submarine's platform deck. There was just an
instant to spare, but the "Farnum" shot past the oncoming,
hostile-looking bows. In another moment the little craft, now more
than awash, was out of harm's way.
None the less, the alarm had been passed on to those aboard the liner.
That great craft, bound up from South Africa, carried diamonds and gold
coin, in the purser's vaults in the hold, amounting in value to more
than four million dollars.
All the way from Cape Town the passengers had been chaffing each other
about the chance of meeting modern, up-to-date pirates.
"The only up-to-date pirate would be one that came in a submarine
boat," Captain Coster had laughingly told his passengers. "A submarine
boat could get away again, without leaving a trail. In these days no
other kind of pirate craft could long escape."
So the passengers had joked each other about the submarine boat that
would meet them, and rob the liner of its precious cargo. Bets had
laughingly been offered that the submarine pirate would be encountered
off the coast of the United States.
Now, when the little craft shot up in the path of the big one, the bow
watch of the "Greytown," and a dozen passengers standing up in the
bow, saw the little boat at the same time.
"There's the pirate!" shouted one nervous woman, leaping up and down, and
pointing. "Oh, Captain! Captain! Save us from all being murdered!"
Two or three young children, who also saw the floating, queerly-shaped
little craft dancing on the waves just off the steamship's starboard
bow, began to scream in terror.
Even several of the men, who should have known better, experienced a
shock of fright for a moment.
The "submarine pirate" that had been joked about for so many days, now
seemed a thing of reality.
Down amidships, on the main deck, a pretty girl had sat, balanced on
the rail, her stalwart brother standing by to hold her securely.
Yet, in the excitement that followed, the girl uttered a shriek and
tottered. Her brother's hold was loosened for the instant, in his
own bewilderment. Before he could recover, the girl had plunged down
toward the water. With a frantic yell, the brother leaned too far
out to seize her. He, too, plunged over the rail.
How either escaped being drawn in toward the great hull was marvelous.
But now both appeared in the foam astern, bobbing on the water, yet
far apart.
The "Farnum" was near by. Midshipman Osgoodby threw the helm over
once more, then started in to get closer to them.
At the same time he passed the word below. Captain Jack Benson was
the first to reach the tower.
In an instant the young submarine skipper threw the power off.
"We can't go closer without the danger of running 'em down," quivered
the submarine boy.
The instant he had the power off Captain Jack threw the manhole cover
of the tower open. As he bounded out on the platform deck several of
the midshipmen followed, with Ensign Trahern and others.
No sooner had his feet touched the platform deck than Jack threw down
his cap. His blouse followed, almost in the same instant. Racing to
the rail, the submarine boy calculated his distance, then sprang
overboard, striking out desperately.
Word had been carried to the "Greytown's" bridge, and the big craft
was slowing up as rapidly as her headway permitted, while an officer
and several men rushed to lower and man a boat. Yet the boat, when
it struck the water, was something more than a quarter of a mile away
from the spot where the young woman and her brother had fallen overboard.
"Why don't some of the champion swimmers of the class go overboard to
Mr. Benson's assistance?" rang Ensign Trahern's voice, sternly.
Apparently that was all the middies were waiting for.
Instantly uniform caps littered the platform deck. Uniform blouses
followed. A group of white-shirted middies raced for the rail.
Splash! splash! splash! The water shot up in tiny columns of spray
with so many young midshipmen diving overboard.
Even Ensign Trahern was startled by the promptness with which his
question had been met.
"No more men go overboard!" bellowed Mr. Trahern.
Splash! splash! The order had come too late to stop these last divers.
A solitary midshipman, hatless and with his blouse half off, stood
beside the ensign, both of them knee-deep in discarded parts of uniform,
while Eph peered out from the conning tower.
"That was kind of a mean trick, sir, to play on me! I'm the only one
that didn't get-over," grinned the last midshipman, sheepishly.
It was a gross violation of discipline, so to address an officer. But
Ensign Trahern merely smiled, for this once, as he replied:
"Never mind, Mr. Satterlee. You'll be needed to stand by with me and
help some of these venturesome ones aboard again."
Jack's start had been a good one, and he was a lusty swimmer.
He headed straight for the young woman, whose cries reached him across
the water.
She could not swim, but her skirts, spreading, were buoying her up
briefly. When these skirts became thoroughly soaked they would fall,
enclosing her in an envelope of considerable weight.
The brother, on the other hand, could swim a little. He had begun to
do so, instinctively, striking out for his sister.
Yet, before he could reach her, his buoyancy gave out, his limbs cramping.
With a despairing cry he sank.
"Tread water! Tread! Keep up until I reach you!" called Jack, clearly,
as he fought on to reach the young woman.
Her skirts were beginning to fill and drop. She might have trod water,
but she did not understand how it was done.
"Help me! I'm sinking!" she screamed, as she threw up her hands. Then
some of the water washed into her mouth.
"No; you're not sinking, either!" shouted Jack, encouragingly, as he
redoubled his efforts at water sprinting.
He darted in, catching at her with one hand just as the girl's head sank
under a wave.
In a jiffy Jack Benson had a secure hand-hold.
"Save me--oh, save me!" choked the girl, in terror, as her head came
once more above.
"Keep cool; do just as I tell you, and--No! Don't grab me like that,
or you may drown us both!" remonstrated the submarine boy.
But the girl acted as though possessed solely by the demon of terror.
She succeeded in wrapping both arms in a frenzy about the submarine
boy.
"You _must_ leave my arms free," urged Jack, desperately, "or we shall
go down together."
He struggled, but her strength, in her despair, was something past
belief. Jack trod water while trying to make her understand.
It was of no use. She clung the tighter. There was but one course
that would save time--to strike her a blow on the forehead that would
render her senseless. But Jack could not bring himself to strike a
woman.
As she felt herself going down the girl only wrapped her arms the more
tightly about her would-be rescuer.
Then the water closed over them. Jack felt himself slipping down and
down into the watery grave that awaited them.
No strength can combat the power of frenzy. Though Jack Benson
struggled, he realized that it was a losing battle. The girl's arms
seemed locked in a deathless grip around his own.
By the time that the first of the midshipmen reached the spot there was
no trace either of Jack Benson or of the girl whom he had sought to
save.