THROUGH THE CRACK IN THE WALL.
As Ned's feet sounded on the boards of the stuffy little cuddy, he
heard a sharp "bang" above him and then the grating of a rusty iron
bolt, as it was shot to, making him a prisoner.
The sound of the grating bolt and the sense that he was a captive, even
though in a sense a voluntary one, made Ned see "red" for an instant.
"So they couldn't even trust to my word!" he muttered angrily to
himself; and then, "All this precaution shows that there is something
very out of the ordinary going forward. Something, too, that unless I
miss my guess is in the line of my commission to find out. Gee whiz,
I'd give a lot to know right now what is at the bottom of all this
how-d'ye-do!"
Ned cast himself down on a transom. For a time silence reigned on deck.
Then he became aware of a trampling of feet above him and the sound of
hoarse voices hailing.
"Somebody coming alongside," surmised Ned, with ready apprehension of
what was going forward. "It must be dark by this time. Clearly whatever
their business is, it is such that does not bear the light of day for
its transaction."
The noise on deck continued. Ned scrutinized his place of captivity for
some means of seeing without its confines. But except for the scuttle
which had been secured, the cabin was without openings. No port-holes
or air vents were visible.
"If only I could see out," he muttered, "that would help some."
Then came more voices outside. Above them sounded sharp, authoritative
tones.
"By the great bow gun, whoever is giving orders out there is a
man-o'-war's-man!" exclaimed the Dreadnought Boy. "Something _is_ in
the wind in connection with the Blue fleet beyond a doubt. By hookey, I
may be on the verge of making some discovery which will be invaluable
to our side."
He listened greedily now. His trained ears had not deceived him. It
was a man-o'-war "steamer" that had glided up to Captain Briggs'
down-at-heel craft. She now lay alongside, while her crew of Jackies
hustled up upon the schooner's dirty decks and their leader, a petty
officer, greeted Captain Briggs.
"We'll get to work just as soon as you're ready," grunted Captain
Briggs to this individual, who had introduced himself as Gunner's Mate
Steffens of the destroyer _Truxton_.
Presently, to Ned in the cabin below, came the sounds of hurrying
action on deck. He heard the blows of hammers as the battens were
ripped off hatchways and the cargo of the schooner, whatever it was,
lay ready for the broachers.
There was a partition forward in the cabin, and Ned guessed that beyond
it must lie the hold with its mysterious contents. He stationed himself
against the bulkhead awaiting developments.
While he stood there listening to the creaking of blocks and tackles,
as apparatus for transferring the cargo of the schooner to the
"steamer" was in process of rigging, his eye was caught by a sudden
gleam of light.
The cabin was dark, so he the more easily saw the long, thin slice
of radiance that he was not long in finding out leaked through a
longitudinal crack in the bulkhead, which was of the flimsiest
construction.
Clearly enough, the hold was illuminated by the cargo broachers and
this light filtered through from it. Ned lost no time in applying an
eye to the crack thus luckily revealed.
He stood at gaze for a moment or two, his optic riveted to the crack.
Then he started back with an exclamation.
"Great ginger! Talk about luck! Why, this is the very thing the
commander was anxious to find out about. I heard him talking it over
with some of the officers. He mentioned it, too, in my instructions."
Ned applied himself afresh to the crack. He might have been carved out
of stone, so motionless did he stand there.
In the hold beyond, all was confusion, shouts, trampling feet and
activity.
One after another big boxes and bales were hoisted out to be lowered
into the waiting steamer. Through his crack Ned overheard enough to
show him that the cargo was being transferred as fast as was possible
under cover of the night.
As soon as she was filled to her capacity, the steamer scurried off
and then returned again for a fresh cargo. From the brevity of
these intervals of absence, Ned was able to argue that wherever the
mysterious cargo was being taken, that place at least was not very far
off.
More than likely it was some spot along the lonesome shore. In fact,
Ned now recalled that below the skeleton-like semaphore he had noticed
the decaying remnants of what had plainly enough once been a dock. If
it was desired to land the schooner's cargo in secret, what more likely
spot would offer for the disposal of it than this abandoned dock on a
desolate shore?
Ned had seen enough of what was going forward in the hold and overheard
enough, too, to convince him of the nature of the cargo that was being
landed.
By a stroke of fortune that seemed almost miraculous, he had, or he was
very much mistaken, stumbled upon the headquarters of the Aero division
of the Blue fleet.
The cargo of the schooner consisted of supplies brought from the
government station at Newport for the "Flying Squadron." There
is hardly a boy in the land who does not know of the tremendous
importance attached by modern governments to the aeroplane, or the
hydro-aeroplane, as an adjunct to a battle fleet in time of war.
Readers of "The Dreadnought Boys on Aero Service" are aware that Ned
was proficient enough in this branch of the service to realize at
once the importance of the discovery he had made. He knew, too, that
according to reports, the Blue fleet's main attack was to be made by
war-aeroplanes. It was ignorance of the number and location of these
flying harpies of the air that had caused the authorities of the Red
fleet much anxiety. To be "technically dynamited" by a squadron of
aeroplanes would result in almost certain defeat.
Small wonder was it then that Ned's heart leaped in elation as he
realized that he had stumbled by sheer good luck upon the information
wanted. But mingled with his delight came a sobering reflection.
He might have located the Blue's Aero fleet; but he was hardly in a
position to put his knowledge to much practical use.