"THE OLDEST BRANCH OF THE SERVICE"
When Dick ran down the wharf the next morning he found Gordon and
several other boys there already. He was later than he had intended;
unless an early start was made their sport would be spoiled. Black-fish
bite well only on the flood tide, and the row to Black Ledge, situated
at the mouth of the broad river, near the entrance to the spacious
harbor, was a distance of at least four miles.
In order to better their time Dick and Gordon invited Donald Barry and
Robert Meade, two boys of their own age, to join them and help man the
oars, while Tommy Turner, a freshman at Bankley, was impressed as
coxswain of the crew.
Lusty strokes soon carried them away from the landing out into the
sparkling waters of the river. Tommy Turner, though not a "big boy,"
knew his duties as coxswain, so he set his course diagonally for the
opposite bank. Already the tide had turned, and to go directly
down-stream would have meant loss of more time, while under the shelter
of the left bank of the river the current and wind were not so strong as
out in mid-channel.
With expertness born of much experience he guided the little
round-bottomed craft in and out amidst the river traffic. The swell
from an outward-bound excursion steamer caused the rowboat to rock and
toss, but not a single "crab" or unnecessary splash did the rowers make
as they bent their backs gladly to their task.
"Those farmers from up state on board the _Sunshine_ thought we would
all be swamped sure," remarked Tommy, laughingly. "I'd like to bet that
half of them never saw blue water before in their lives."
Dick, stroking the crew, only grinned appreciatively at Tommy's sally,
but Donald Barry called out from his place as bow oar:
"Don't get too cocky, Tommy, for if they knew you had never learned to
swim, they might well have felt uneasy about you."
"I'll learn some day, fast enough," answered Tommy, slightly chagrined
at Donald's remark, "but in the meantime, Don, if you would feather your
oar better maybe the wind against it wouldn't be holding us back so
much."
Tommy Turner was always ready with a "come back," as the boys expressed
it, and for a while nothing more was said. Suddenly the coxswain, who
had been gazing fixedly ahead for some time, gave a loud shout.
"Say, fellows, the fleet is coming in! I thought I couldn't be mistaken
when I saw all that smoke way out there, and now it's a sure thing."
By common consent the rowers ceased their exertions and looked in the
direction indicated by Tommy. Far out over the white-capped waves of
the Sound could be seen against the deep blue sky, dark, low-lying
clouds of black smoke, while just becoming distinguishable to the naked
eye the huge hulks of several battleships could be discerned.
"This sure is luck," exclaimed Robert Meade. "I've often wanted to see a
lot of battleships come to anchor together, but never have been on the
spot at the right moment."
"Let's call off the fishing and row out to their anchorage; it's only a
little over a mile farther out. What do you all say?" asked Donald,
appealing to the others.
"Yes,--let's!" spoke up the ubiquitous Tommy. "We can go after the fish
later if we like."
"You would not be so much in favor of that extra mile or two if you were
pulling on an oar, kid," vouchsafed Gordon rather grimly, for the sight
of the ships brought to his mind that sooner or later he might be
passing his days on one of those very vessels.
"Right you are, sir, Admiral Graham, sir," quickly retorted the
coxswain, and even Dick joined in the laughter now turned on Gordon.
How differently he gazed at the ships to-day from what he would have
done a few days since. Then they would have meant so much to him, while
now he seemed to resent their very presence in the harbor.
The rowers had resumed their work and without further words Tommy
changed the boat's course.
By the time the five boys in their tiny craft reached the vicinity the
great vessels were steaming in column towards the harbor entrance. On
the fresh morning breeze was borne the sound of many bugles, the shrill
notes of the boatswain's pipes calling the crew on deck, and the
crashings of many bands.
The boys resting on their oars drank in the beauty and majesty of the
scene with sighs of complete satisfaction while they interestedly
watched every maneuver of the approaching ships. The powerful
dreadnaught in the lead flew the blue flag with two white stars of a
rear admiral. From the caged mainmast and from the signal yard on the
foremast strings of gaily-colored flags were continually being run up or
down, and sailors standing in the rigging were waving small hand flags
to and fro with lightning rapidity.
"Those colored and fancy flags make the outfit look like a circus
parade," remarked Tommy, lolling back in the stern sheets with the
tiller ropes lying idly in his hands.
"That's the way the Admiral gives his orders to the other ships,"
volunteered Dick. "You'll notice they run up every set of flags first
on the flagship, then the ships behind follow suit, finally when the
order is understood by them all and it comes time to do that which the
Admiral wants done, down they all go together."
"Jinks! I'd think it a pretty tedious way of sending messages,"
remarked Donald Barry, watching the gay flags go fluttering upwards in
the breeze; "just imagine spelling out all those words. I'd think that
sometimes they'd all go ashore or run into each other or something
before they half finished what they wanted to say."
Dick, having spent considerable of his spare moments in reading up about
naval matters, smiled at Donald and continued his explanation.
"It isn't necessary to spell out the words. Each group of flags means
some special command, and all you have to do is to look it up in the
signal book as you would a word in the dictionary. Most of the commoner
signals become so well known after a little experience that it is only a
matter of seconds to catch the meaning."
"I wish we could go on board one of the ships, don't you, fellows?"
mused Robert rather irrelevantly. He was generally the silent one of
the party, but the lads agreed with him that his wish was a good one.
Yet such luck was hardly to be expected.
The flagship was passing but a few yards away, and the watchers could
readily see the sailors on her decks all dressed in white working
clothes, while on the broad quarter-deck a line of men, uniformed in
khaki and armed with rifles, were drawn up in two straight military
rows. Near these men glistened the instruments of the ship's band as
they stood playing a lively march.
Suddenly the boys heard a sharp command wafted to them over the water.
"Haul down!" were the words, and simultaneously from every ship in the
column the lines of flags were hauled down to the signal bridges. Then
came the splash of anchors, the churning of reversed propellers, the
smoke and dust of anchor chains paying out through hawse pipes, and the
fleet had come to anchor. Hardly had the great anchors touched the
water when long booms swung out from the ships' sides, gangways were
lowered, and from their cradles swift launches with steam already up
were dropped into the water by huge electric cranes.
"What is the blue flag with all the stars they hoisted at their bows
when they stopped?" questioned Donald, turning to Dick as being the best
informed member of the party.
"That is the Union Jack," Dick replied, "and they fly that from the jack
staff only when a ship is in dock, tied up to a wharf or at anchor; and
also, if you noticed, they pulled down the National Ensign from the gaff
on the mainmast and hauled another up on the flagstaff astern at the
same time. When the flag flies from the gaff it means the ship is under
way."
"It certainly is a shame, Dick, you cannot go to Annapolis in my place,"
remarked Gordon, regretfully; "you already know more than all of us
combined about the Navy. But do you know, seeing these ships to-day and
the businesslike way they do things has stirred my blood. It is just
wonderful! But for the life of me I cannot see how a chap can learn all
there is to know about them in only four years. I rather think I shall
have to do some pretty hard digging if I ever expect to be a naval
officer."
"Keep your ship afloat, Admiral Graham, and hard digging won't be
necessary," interposed Tommy, and a roar of laughter followed his quip,
as was usually the case.
The boys now began rowing towards the flagship, which in anchoring had
gone several hundred yards beyond them. Nearing her, the strains of a
lively march were heard, and an officer in cocked hat, gold lace and
epaulettes, went down the gangway into a waiting motor boat. No sooner
had the officer stepped into the boat than she scurried away for the
shore landing. Again the boys stopped to watch proceedings. When the
motor boat started from the gangway one of the sailors on deck blew a
shrill call on a pipe and the khaki-clad line of men, who had been
standing immovably with their rifles at the position of "present arms,"
brought them to the deck as if actuated by a single lever, and a moment
later they were marched away.
"Those soldiers are marines, aren't they?" asked Robert. "Anyway, they
are dressed the same as the marines up at the Navy Yard."
"Sure they are marines," answered Tommy; "I know all about 'em, for my
Uncle Fred was a marine officer once. He swears by 'em, and says they
are the best fighters in the world."
This was Robert Meade's first year at Bankley High School, having spent
all his life previously in an up-state town, and the soldier element on
board ship was not clear in his mind.
"I always used to think that the marine was a sailor," said he. "At
least, most of the papers half the time must be wrong, for you see
pictures supposed to be marines landing at this or that place and they
are almost always dressed as sailors."
"That's because the papers don't know anything," commented Tommy
indignantly. "Why, the marines are the oldest branch of the service;
older than the Navy or the Army. Aren't they, Dick?"
"Well, to tell the truth," Dick answered, "I'm a bit hazy about marines
myself. Of course I've seen them around town and on the ships all my
life, off and on, but I've been so much more interested in the work of a
sailor that I haven't paid much attention to the military end of it."
"The marine is 'soldier and sailor too,'" said Tommy, sententiously.
"That English poet, Kipling, says he can do any darned thing under the
sun; and if all my uncle tells me is true, it must be so. He was a
volunteer officer of marines in the war with Spain and fought in Cuba
with them."
"Well, if they are soldiers also, why don't they stay ashore with the
army?" persevered Robert, wishing to understand more about the men who
had excited his interest.
"It's a pretty long story to tell you in a minute," answered Tommy;
"besides, I may not get it all straight."
"That will be all right, Tommy," Gordon called out. "I do not know
anything about them, either, and I suppose I had better learn everything
I can about the Navy now. I've made up my mind, boys, that I do want to
be an officer on one of these ships, and I am going to tell my father so
to-night, as I know it will please him. So, Tommy, I propose that when
we start for the boat-house, as you will have nothing else to do but
steer, you tell us all you know about these 'Sea Soldiers.' Is my
motion seconded?"
As Gordon finished speaking they were lying a little off the starboard
quarter of the flagship, idly tossing in the short choppy sea that the
breeze from the Sound had stirred up. A whistle from the deck now
attracting their attention, the boys looked up in time to see a small
marine with a bugle in his hand run along the deck and, after saluting
the naval officer who had summoned him by the shrill blast, receive some
instructions from the officer. After giving another salute to the
officer, a second or two later the little trumpeter blew a call, the
meaning of which was unknown to the silently attentive lads in the
rowboat.
All the boys had some remark to make at this.
"Hello, look at Tom Thumb blowing the bugle," called Tommy, and he
added, "If all the marines are his size, I should think someone had been
robbing a nursery."
"Wonder what all the excitement means, anyway?" inquired Donald, as he
saw various persons on the ship running about, evidently in answer to
the summons of the bugle.
"You know all the bugle calls, Dick, because you were the best bugler in
the Boy Scouts when we belonged; what was the call?" Gordon asked.
"You've sure got me buffaloed," answered Dick. "I learned every call in
the Instruction Book for Boy Scouts, and I know every army call, but
that one wasn't among them."
During this time their little boat was drifting slowly astern again when
suddenly a long heavy motor boat rounded the battleship, just clearing
her, and at terrific speed bore down on the drifting rowboat.
Instinctively the occupants of the rowboat sprang into action.
A warning cry was shouted to them through a megaphone from the deck of
the battleship, the coxswain of the fast flying motor boat sounded two
short blasts on his whistle, threw his helm hard over, and the crew
shouted loudly. Tommy Turner in the excitement of the moment mixed his
tiller ropes and sent his frail craft directly across the sharp bow of
the approaching vessel.
With a smashing and crashing of wood the heavy motor boat practically
cut the rowboat in two, forcing it beneath the surface and passing over
it, and more quickly than it has taken to relate it the five boys were
thrown into the sea.
* * * * * * * * *
[Illustration: How the accident occurred]
How the accident occurred
1. B is the position of the rowboat when the motor boat A came under
the stern along dotted line, heading directly at rowboat. Tommy pulled
on wrong rope and sent his boat in direction of B'. It can be seen the
coxswain steered in the same direction and the boats smashed at the
point B'. The motor boat stopped about A'.
2. The diagram illustrates also the manner of designating the
directions of objects from the ship by lookouts. Example: A sailboat at
"C." The lookout would call out "Sailboat, Broad on Port Bow" or he
might say "Four Points on Port Bow."
* * * * * * * * *
Dick Comstock, coming first to the surface, looked about him for his
companions. The motor boat was now about fifty yards away; her engine
had stopped and her crew were looking anxiously towards the spot where
the accident had taken place.
As Dick shook the water from his eyes and ears, he heard the voice of
the coxswain answering a question apparently addressed him by someone
from the deck of the flagship.
"I can't reverse my engines, sir. Something fouling the propellor," he
called out.
By this time Dick saw the bobbing heads of Robert, Donald and Gordon not
far from him.
"Where's Tommy?" called Dick, anxiously, trying to rise from the water
as far as possible in his endeavor to sight the missing boy.
To these four lads the choppy sea meant nothing, in spite of the fact
they were fully clothed when so suddenly upset. But in Tommy's case it
was a far different matter, for, as has been stated, Tommy, though a
plucky little fellow, was unable to swim.
The wrecked rowboat had floated some distance away and with one accord
the four boys swam rapidly towards it in the hope that Tommy might be
found clinging to the debris.
Meanwhile on the deck of the battleship there was great excitement. A
life-boat was being quickly lowered from its davits and active sailors
were piling into it. The starboard life-lines of the quarter-deck were
lined with men in white uniforms and dungarees, for many of the engine
room force had been attracted to the deck to witness the episode though
they were not allowed there on ordinary occasions in that attire, and
also there was a sprinkling of marines in khaki. Shouts, signals and
directions were coming from all sides, while two of the motor boat's
crew were already in the water swimming back towards the boys to lend
them aid if necessary.
On reaching the wreck, Dick, who was first to arrive, half pulled
himself out on the upturned bottom in order to search to better
advantage. Discovering with sinking heart that Tommy was not there,
without a moment's hesitation he disappeared beneath the boat searching
with wide open eyes for his little friend, nor was he alone in his
quest, for each of the boys in turn dove under the boat on arrival.
Staying as long under water as he possibly could Dick came to the
surface to free his lungs of the foul air with which they were now
filled. Again his anxious eyes swept the roughened water in eager
survey and then with a loud cry of gladness he was going hand over hand
in the famous Australian crawl, but this time away from the boat and
towards the ship.
In that momentary glance he saw an arm and hand emerge from the waves,
the clenched fist still holding fast to a piece of tiller rope. It had
shown but an instant above the surface and then disappeared. Could he
reach the spot in time? Could he? He would--he must, and with head and
face down his arms flew like flails beating the water past him as he
surged forward.
On board the flagship, Sergeant Michael Dorlan, of the Marines, had been
an eye-witness of the whole occurrence. For some time previous he had
been watching the boys in the boat. The manner in which they handled
their oars showed him they were no novices. He noted also that there
were five occupants in the unlucky craft when she was struck. Calmly he
counted the heads appearing in the water beneath.
"One," counted Dorlan aloud to himself as Dick's drenched head almost
instantaneously bobbed up, "two, three," he continued in rapid
succession, "four----," and then he waited, holding his breath, while
his honest Irish heart beat faster beneath his woolen shirt.
"They kin all shwim," he muttered aloud as the four lads struck out
vigorously in the water, "but, bedad, the fifth kid ain't up yet."
During all this time Dorlan was unlacing his shoes with rapidly moving
fingers. His coat he unconsciously took off and threw to the deck and
then he climbed to the top rail of the life-lines, steadying himself by
holding to an awning stanchion. Never once did his sharp, gray-blue
eyes leave the surface of the water. As Dick cried out and dashed
through the waves towards the spot where he momentarily glimpsed the
tightly clenched hand of Tom Turner, a brown streak appeared to shoot
from the rail of the dreadnaught and with hardly a splash was lost and
swallowed up in the sea.
Sergeant Michael Dorlan had also seen that for which he was looking and
like a flash he had gone to the rescue. From the height of over twenty
feet his body shot like a meteor in the direction of the drowning boy.
To the officers and crew on board the flagship it seemed an eternity
before a commotion below them and a spurning and churning of the water
announced his reappearance. And Dorlan did not come to the surface
alone, for it was seen that he was supporting the form of the boy he had
gone to rescue.
A great cheer filled the air as the crew of the ship spontaneously gave
vent to their relief, and a few seconds later the unconscious lad was
hurried up the gangway by willing hands, followed unassisted by his four
drenched and solicitous comrades.