AGROUND!
The anchor was hauled up immediately on the return of the gig. The
crews of the submarines, already on board the diving craft, took their
stations. "Captain" Ned gave the word and the _Seneca_ began to move
slowly through the water.
Having superintended the work of getting under way, Ned and Herc
ascended to the bridge. They found Midshipman Kenworth there, standing
by the side of the quartermaster, who had the wheel.
Behind the wheel, which was a small, light affair controlling the steam
steering gear, was a small house in which the machinery that operated
the rudder control was situated.
Ned caught Herc by the sleeve just as the red-headed lad was stepping
impulsively forward, and drew him into the doorway of the structure.
There was a small port in the place looking out over the bridge. It was
open, and through it they could readily see.
"What's the idea of this?" demanded Herc. "I don't like this spying
business. I've no use for Kenworth, but----"
"That's all right," responded Ned. "I don't wish to spy on the young
man; I merely want to find out what sort of a pilot he is."
They skirted the little cape that formed the end of the island, in the
lee of which the _Seneca_ had been anchored. Beyond this island, the
boys, somewhat to their surprise, saw that there was still quite an
expanse of shoal water threaded by narrow channels between the outer
island and the blue of the Sound itself.
"Ticklish work through here," commented Ned in a low tone, as he
observed how the darker color of the channels that threaded the
numerous shallow places alternated with broad expanses of yellow water
that showed the presence of dangerous sand banks.
"You're dead right," responded Herc; "about as bad a place as I ever
clapped eyes on."
The rattle and roar of the steering machinery as the wheel was spun
right and left drowned the sound of their voices. Kenworth was looking
straight ahead. From time to time they could see him turn slightly and
give some order to the helmsman; but what the orders were they could
not catch.
The _Seneca_ appeared to be following the channel perfectly, however,
winding among the mazes of deeper waterways like a dancer.
"Kenworth is no slouch at this work," said Ned in a low voice as they
watched.
"Shucks!" grunted Herc, "I guess the _Seneca_ has been in and out of
here a hundred times. Anyhow, a blind man could see those channels."
Ned turned on his companion with a stern look.
"See here, Herc Taylor, we want peace and harmony on this craft; do you
understand?"
"Even if we have to scrap to get it," muttered Herc. "All right; from
now on, I'm the greatest little peace delegate ever you saw."
A minute later, while they were still watching, they saw something that
gave them a momentary shock of surprise. Rankin appeared on the bridge.
There was nothing extraordinary in his so doing, of course. He probably
had something to report to the watch officer.
But somehow Ned, with a quick flash of intuition that he could not
explain, felt that more than that lay in this sudden conjunction of
their two enemies; for that Rankin disliked them, Ned had no doubt.
He laid a hand on Herc's arm to keep him quiet, for the impulsive
red-headed youth was about, apparently, to break forth into some
emphatic exclamation at what he had just seen.
Rankin approached Kenworth with an air of familiarity that showed
there existed some friendship between them. Kenworth greeted him with
an easy nod, and then, after giving some directions to the man at the
wheel, he placed his hand on Rankin's shoulder and drew him back toward
the steering-gear house.
"Come back here while we talk," the boys heard him say, "I don't want
that quartermaster to overhear us."
For a moment it appeared that they were coming into the steering house,
but they merely stood close back against its metal wall. They had taken
up positions right under the porthole through which Ned had been making
his observations.
But they had not seen their superior officers. Ned had been too quick
for that. As the two approached the steering-gear structure, he grabbed
Herc and drew him down. Now they crouched quietly under the porthole,
through which they could catch perfectly everything that was said.
"Well, here's a fine how-de-do," they heard Rankin complain in a
grumbling tone; "a couple of snips that aren't dry behind the ears been
set over us. I thought you were to get the command when Summerville
left."
"So did I; but it seems these two interlopers succeeded in getting it
for themselves."
"Didn't you tell me that they started in the navy just as enlisted men?"
"Yes, the gutter-snipes never saw even the outside of Annapolis. I'd
like to know what the service is coming to when good men are passed
over for useless propositions like this!"
"So would I. By the way, I had a row with them on the train coming
down. They've no use for me, I fancy. I wish I could hit upon some plan
to take them down a peg or two."
"I have," was Kenworth's rejoinder, in a tone which was acid with
malignant hatred.
"Have what?"
"Formed such a plan. I've got a scheme to discredit them with the
department right from the jump."
"Shoal ahead, sir!"
The voice of the man at the wheel cut in raspingly like a file.
Kenworth sprang up. Ned also ventured to steal a look through the port.
He saw the shoal the helmsman had drawn attention to, a long daub of
yellow stretching on their port bow.
He saw in a flash that there was only one way to save the ship from
going aground.
"Stay here," he ordered Herc, and then bounded out of the steering-gear
house, colliding with Rankin as he did so.
"What, you here, sir?" exclaimed Rankin with a sickly smile as Ned
shoved past him. The Dreadnought Boy, with a sinking sense of dread,
guessed somehow that already the conspiracy against him was under way,
and that, with the flukes of the anchor not yet dry at the cat-head!
Rankin reeled and staggered as Ned brushed by with scant regard for
gentleness. He turned and gazed after the figure of the young officer
as he made for the steersman. Kenworth already stood at the man's side.
"Hard a'port!" Ned heard Kenworth roar.
It was precisely the command that, under the circumstances, would bring
the bow of the _Seneca_ grating and rasping on the shoal.
"Hard over! Hard over! For your life, man!" shouted Ned.
"Aye, aye, sir!" cried the man, recognizing the superior authority of
the temporary commander.
But it was too late. The next instant it happened, even as Ned's hand
jerked the engine-room telegraph over to "Full speed astern." With
a grating, jarring succession of bumps, the _Seneca_, Ned's first
command, slipped upon the shoal, even while her reversed engines were
frantically biting the water astern.
Before the lad's eyes arose a sickening vision of failure and disgrace,
even at the very outset of his important commission.