TWO ARE MISSING
Night came on; dark, heavy clouds were hanging low in the sky, the wind
shrieking dismally.
The jackies, however, were happy. They were not disturbed by the roar of
the gale. So rough was the sea, however, and so heavy the roll of the
ship, that it was decided not to set the mess tables for the evening
meal. The men sat around on the lower decks, legs crossed, balancing
themselves and their plates of food, joking and laughing over the little
mishaps of their companions.
Down in the captain's quarters matters were little better. Most of the
time the commanding officer was holding to his own table with both
hands. A plate of hot soup had just turned turtle, landing in his lap,
soiling the spotless uniform that he had put on after returning from the
bridge. The officers in the ward room, where all the other commissioned
officers eat, were having their own troubles.
All at once there was a yell. Some tumbled over backwards in their
chairs, while others sprang up and scrambled out of harm's way, as a
huge object came hurling through the air. It landed full force on the
mess table, the table going down beneath it with a mighty crash.
The dark object was the ward-room's upright piano. The captain, hearing
the crash, rushed in from his quarters adjoining.
"What's wrong?" he shouted.
"Nothing, captain. There's music in the air, that's all," answered the
ship's surgeon. This put all hands in good humor, even though a quantity
of china had been utterly ruined.
China was not troubling the jolly tars forward, nor were they disturbed
over the wet decks on which they were sitting. Every man of them was
soaked with salt water.
In the galley kettles were sliding across the range, and from there out
on to the deck. Food was everywhere, except where it should have been.
Suddenly the jackies on the seven-inch gun deck set up a yell of
delight. A steward descending a ladder carrying a kettle of hot beans
suddenly lost his hold.
With a howl, he plunged headlong. Sam Hickey chanced to be right in the
path of the human projectile. The kettle of boiling hot beans turned
turtle just as it was hovering over the red-headed boy's head. Down came
kettle, beans and all over Sam's head. Part of the contents scattered,
catching other unlucky jackies who were sitting near him.
Hickey's yells could be heard above the roar of the storm, as he
scrambled madly to his feet, tugging at the kettle to get it off his
head. The handle had dropped down under his chin.
Shipmates sprang to his rescue, else Sam would have been seriously
burned. As it was, his face was red and swollen, his hair was matted
with beans and his eyes glared angrily.
"You did that on purpose," he howled, starting for the unlucky steward.
"Yes, of course he did," urged several voices. "He ought to be dumped
overboard for the fishes."
"No; he's too tough, they wouldn't eat him."
The steward himself settled the question of his disposal, by scrambling
up the companionway as fast as he could go. He knew the jackies well
enough to be aware that they would like nothing better than having some
sport with the "sea cook," as they call every man connected with the
kitchen department.
"Hello, Sam, what's the matter?" questioned Dan Davis, as he shot across
the deck head first, having lost his grip on the frame of the
water-tight door where he had been standing for a moment.
"Look out! Here comes the dynamite projectile!" warned a voice.
Dan landed among a group of sailors, and what food they had in hand was
scattered all over that part of the deck. The next second he found
himself sprawling in the middle of the deck, where they had hurled him.
Hickey grinned.
"What's the matter with you?"
"I must have been fired with a charge of smokeless powder, as I don't
see any smoke," laughed Dan. "Well, you are a sight! What happened to
you?"
"Beans!" jeered the jackies.
"I thought you looked like one of the fifty-seven varieties," laughed
Dan Davis, at which there was a loud uproar.
"Throw him overboard. It's them kind of jokes that causes waterspouts
and earthquakes. Don't you ever dare say anything like that again,
Dynamite, or we'll forget you're a shipmate and bounce you!"
"You had better begin right now, then," retorted Dan defiantly. "I'm
ready for any kind of a row you want to start. It's a good night for a
rough-and-tumble. We haven't anything else to do. Come on, if you are
looking for trouble."
Dan squared off as if ready for a fight. Just then the ship gave a
heavy lurch. The Battleship Boy disappeared under one of the big guns.
His messmates hauled him out by the feet, amid shouts of laughter, and
began tossing him about as if he were a ball.
Davis took his rough treatment good-naturedly.
"Thought you were going to fight?" jeered the jackies.
"No; like Sam Hickey, I've changed my mind," laughed Dan.
"Hark!"
"What is it?" All hands stopped to listen.
"It's the bugle. They're piping some squad to quarters. I wonder what's
up now?"
"That's the whaleboat crews they're piping up," nodded Dan. "I guess the
boats are being washed away."
"There goes another call."
"Starboard seven-inch gun crew called to quarters!" shouted Gunner's
Mate Davis. "Jump for it, boys!"
There was a rush of those of the gun crew who were on the deck with Dan.
They well knew that something was wrong at their station. For all they
knew they might have been called to work the gun; still such a call was
hardly to be looked for during the mess hour.
Reaching the seven-inch turret, they found the place flooded with salt
water. With every lurch of the ship a great column was forced in, as if
through a gigantic hose. The first charge of this caught Sam Hickey,
sweeping him clear out into the corridor.
Sam came back, choking and coughing, yelling at every one in his
excitement.
"Attention!" roared the gun captain.
"Attention!" repeated Dan Davis. He saw instantly what had happened.
"The steel buckler plates have been wrenched loose!"
These buckler plates are employed to cover the opening in the side of
the ship about the guns. Without them the ship would be flooded in heavy
weather.
It was not an easy task that had been set for the gun crew. Every man
knew that.
"Who will volunteer to do the work outside?" demanded the gun captain.
"I'll attend to that," answered Dan promptly.
"Me, too," added Sam, without hesitation. "I can't get any wetter than I
am."
"You'll get something besides wet," said the captain. "Very well, you
two go out. Hold fast! Look out for yourselves."
The Battleship Boys were climbing from the turret ere the words were out
of his mouth.
"Don't try any tricks, Sam," advised Davis.
"Better take that advice to yourself. If I remember rightly you were
running a race, or something, when you fell off the cage mast to-day.
Woof!"
A heavy sea smashed into them, laying them flat on the deck. The boys
hung on until the sea had rolled over them. They were high up on the
superstructure, where the seven-inch guns are located. Not a thing could
they see in the darkness, but they knew their way about as well as if it
had been broad daylight.
The buckler plates were thrust in from the inside of the turret, the
duty of the lads outside being to make fast the catches which were
employed to hold the buckler plates in position in heavy weather. Under
ordinary conditions it was not necessary to set these emergency catches.
It had not been done in this instance, consequently the plates were
battered in, flooding the deck and all that part of the ship.
"All ready out here!" shouted Dan.
With a grating sound the bucklers were shoved into position.
"Click!"
The catches snapped into place.
"Right!" bellowed Hickey, placing his lips close to the side of the
muzzle of the gun.
"Come, let's get out of here," called Dan.
"Look out for yourself. Duck! Grab!" roared Sam.
"Wha--what----"
Dan did not complete the sentence. A wall of water struck the turret
with a report like that of the three-inch forward rifles.
From the depths of the great green wave came a muffled yell. Sam
Hickey's grip had been wrenched loose from the guard rope at the side of
the muzzle of the seven-inch.
At the same instant both lads felt themselves lifted from their feet.
Then down, down they dropped. It seemed to them that hours were consumed
in that terrible drop. They felt themselves falling into an abyss of the
sea. Such was not the case, however, though their situation was, at that
instant, every bit as serious as if they had in reality been falling
into the sea. As it was, they were being swept toward it.
The smash of the wave having carried them from their feet, rolled them
along the upper or spar deck, dropping them down some twenty feet to the
quarter-deck, that was all awash. Fortunately the water below caught
them, or they might have been killed in the twenty-foot fall to the
quarter-deck.
Suddenly Sam came into violent contact with something that he gripped
anxiously. That something did not give way. Dan met with a similar
experience, and there the lads hung, neither knowing what had become of
the other, seas smiting them, threatening every second to hurl them on
and into the sea itself.
In the meantime those of the gun crew had returned to the gun deck to
dry their clothes. The gun captain, however, waited for the return of
the boys who had gone outside.
"I wonder what has become of those boys," he mused, peering out through
the hatchway that he opened the merest crack. There was neither sight
nor sound of them.
"Davis! Hickey!" he bellowed.
His effort brought no answer.
The gun captain knew no personal fear. He stepped out, closing the hatch
behind him quickly. He clung there, watching, listening, then shouting.
All at once he turned and hurried back to the gun deck. Sending word to
the executive officer, he informed that officer of the absence of the
two boys.
The captain heard the news a moment later, and a stir ran all through
the ship.
"They're overboard. Nothing could save them, sir," advised the executive
officer.
"Man the searchlights. Both tops!" commanded the captain, now all
activity. "Pipe all hands to stations!"