CHAPTER VII. ABOARD THE BATTLESHIP “THUNDERER.”

“My word! I am delighted to have met such a couple of smart lads, and I

hope to hear the particulars of your story aboard the _Thunderer_, for

you must come back with me to meet the Vice-Admiral. You are English;

that goes without saying.”

Amos chuckled, while Jack shook his head.

“American, sir,” the latter said, briskly, “though our ancestors came

from your tight little island, and also fought you for all they were

worth at Lexington and Bunker Hill.”

“I’m a bit sorry for that, my lad!” exclaimed the lieutenant, “but,

after all, we feel that in this terrible crisis we can count on the

sympathy of all Americans who are not of German descent, for we are

fighting the battles of civilization and true democracy. Pardon me for

saying it, but you know it looks somewhat strange to run across a

couple of American boys over here in the war zone just now.”

That was a gentle hint for them to give some sort of explanation, and

this Jack was quite ready to do.

“We realize that, sir, and can easily explain why it happens. We are

looking for the brother of my chum and cousin here, whose father

earnestly desires to see him once more before he passes away. There is

a sad story back of it, which it is not necessary for me to mention.”

“Certainly not,” asserted the officer, heartily; “and I am sure the

Vice-Admiral will not press you on that score, for he is exceedingly

kind. You have reason to think the young man may be somewhere in this

vicinity?”

“We have every reason to believe it, sir. When we were in London Lord

Kitchener, who is a great friend of my chum’s father, Colonel Turner,

U. S. A., gave us a paper that has been of considerable use to us.

It helped us search through that part of Belgium held by the Allied

armies, and also in Northern France. We learned that Frank Turner

was serving your cause as an aviator, and after just missing him with

General French’s army we discovered that he had been sent out here to

assist in opening the Dardanelles.”

“My word! but I admire your grit in following after him through all the

ruck; but then it is just what might be expected of American boys. I

have a lady cousin in New York who never tires of sounding the praises

of your Boy Scouts, and the wonderful things they do. And a line from

Kitchener of Khartoum would serve as an ‘Open Sesame’ even aboard a

British battleship, I imagine. But please make ready to accompany me so

you may meet the Vice-Admiral.”

“We will be only too glad to do so, sir,” replied Jack. “Of course you

expect to take charge of this gun-runner, for the hold is filled with

all sorts of explosives?”

“A splendid haul!” declared the other. “Its loss will be felt by the

Turks, who are short on ammunition. You deserve many thanks for what

you have done toward assisting the cause.”

“But we might not have considered it our duty to capture the

blockade-runner,” Jack frankly told him, “only that we had good reason

to believe they were plotting to do us bodily harm, or at least abandon

us on some lonely island where we might have heaps of trouble getting

away.”

“You may say that, my lad,” observed the lieutenant pleasantly, “but

nevertheless I am certain that deep down in your hearts you are hand

in glove with our cause. In good time I expect America will speak her

mind, and the Kaiser will discover that ‘hands across the sea’ stand

for no idle words. It will be the whole world _against militarism_, and

_not the German people, whom we admire_.”

The boys did not expect to be aboard the smuggler again, and therefore

they took with them what little luggage they carried. This was very

scanty, because, as Amos put it, they were “going light,” and doing

without a good many things which, as ordinary travelers, they might

have deemed necessary.

In fact, they had long ago learned that it is remarkable how few things

are absolutely indispensable when traveling, and especially with a

couple of rough-and-ready boys, accustomed to looking after themselves.

Once in the small patrol tender of the destroyer they speedily made the

grim-looking little fighter that could cover thirty miles an hour, and

then have a little reserve speed for an emergency.

Aboard this boat they were introduced to the commander, who took

something of the same interest in them as the other officer had done.

It was so remarkable a thing to come upon two American boys under

circumstances like these that he felt a great and pardonable curiosity

to hear something of their story.

Amos, who had by that time recovered his tongue, in particular, was

not averse to obliging him, and rattled off an account of some of the

adventures that had befallen them since crossing over from London and

searching along the battle lines in Belgium for the missing Frank.

When the commander learned that this brother was no other than Frank

Bradford, whose exploits had passed from hand to mouth wherever the

Allies fought, he was doubly charmed. At the same time he expressed the

pious wish that the boys might fail in their mission, because the cause

needed aviators like the daring bird-man, and his loss would mean a big

gap in the ranks.

The questions asked by the commander were principally about how they

came to embark on the powerboat in some Grecian sea town, and what

caused them to decide to try and effect the capture of the lawless

craft. These events would make a brave showing in his report of the

night’s work; for Captain Zenos had long been a thorn in the flesh of

the Allies, carrying many a cargo of arms and explosives past their

lines into Turkish camps.

“I am only sorry he slipped through our fingers this time,” he told the

boys as they drew near the bulky battleship, from which the searchlight

shone upon them, and the small craft followed in their rear, manned

by a prize crew; “but with his vessel gone he may have his services

crippled somewhat. And besides, he may be picked up by one of our scout

boats.”

A short time later Jack and Amos found themselves aboard the

battleship. It certainly gave them a thrill to realize that they

actually trod the deck of one of His Majesty’s big bulldogs of the

navy, a vessel that doubtless daily engaged some of the Turkish

batteries along the shores of the Gallipoli Peninsula or on the

Anatolian mainland.

They were speedily taken into the presence of the Vice-Admiral. He

may have been a gruff sea-dog in the eyes of his men, and known as a

martinet; but he had another and much more genial side to his nature,

which he exhibited to his two young American guests.

Perhaps the magical paper which they made haste to show him, signed

by Kitchener himself, may have had something to do with his amiable

manner, for it was simply wonderful how often that document had helped

them over rough places. He insisted on the boys making themselves

comfortable in his cabin, and begged to hear their whole story,

for already he confessed to being deeply interested in two such

manly-looking cousins from across the sea.

When mention was made of Frank, and how they had discovered that he

was doing remarkable work in the cause of the Allies under the name of

Bradford, the Vice-Admiral showed great interest. He had heard more

or less about the famous flier who bore that name, although thus far

ignorant of the fact that he had joined the aviation corps on duty with

the Dardanelles battle fleet.

“You shall stay aboard our ship temporarily, lads,” he told them later

on, “and I promise you to do my best to locate the party you seek, if

he is indeed out on this station. It is hardly within the rules to have

non-combatants aboard during war times, but that wonderful paper you

carry would be ample excuse for any infraction, since it calls upon

every one in authority to aid you to the best of their ability.”

“You are very kind, Admiral, and we can only thank you, and say we

will accept,” Jack assured him, heartily.

“And it won’t be the first time we’ve bunked in a hammock, either,

sir,” declared Amos, gleefully, for he began to see the troubles ahead

of them vanishing, as had so often been the case in the past.

“I am afraid you will be a little disappointed, then,” the officer told

him; “I could not put you with the crew, for many reasons. It happens,

however, that one of our officers was invalided home, and his place

has not yet been filled, so you must occupy his quarters for the time

being.”

After that he asked many more questions, and seemed greatly interested

in his two young American guests. Doubtless there would be ways to

explain just how they chanced to be aboard the _Thunderer_, despite

all rules and regulations, for a Vice-Admiral is at times a law unto

himself.

Finally Jack and Amos were given into the charge of one of the several

officers who had been in the cabin during the recital of their story,

and all of whom evinced a lively interest in the boys.

“This is something we never dreamed would happen, Jack,” remarked Amos,

when the two found themselves left in the comfortable if snug quarters

assigned to them. “Think of us aboard a regular battleship that has

been in action, and may be again tomorrow, for all we know.”

“We are certainly in great luck,” admitted Jack, yawning sleepily.

“Between you and the lamp-post I like that Vice-Admiral a whole lot.

He may have gained a name as a fighter and all that, but deep down in

his heart he is a fine specimen of a sailor. And to think that he has

several sons of his own, all of them serving their country either in

the army or the navy.”

“Well, I only hope our luck holds good, so that we may see how they

bombard the old Turkish forts,” wished Amos. “We’ve been on the firing

line in Belgium, had a chance to visit the French war trenches, and see

some action there; and if only we could watch the battle fleet at work,

I’d be satisfied.”

“Leave that for another day,” advised Jack, preparing for bed.

Despite all that had come to them of late in the way of excitement,

as well as the peculiar conditions by which they were even then

surrounded, both boys managed to drop asleep soon after their heads

struck the pillows. If the waves arose in the night, and the heavy

battleship wallowed somewhat as she progressed slowly this way and

that, so as to keep on the move, they knew nothing of it, for they had

proved their right of being called good sailors.

When they did awaken they found that the day had come. Yes, and the

vessel was in motion, going at a fair rate of speed. Amos was thrilled

with the thought that there might be something in the wind.

As he hastily dressed, his talk was all in the line of action. He

certainly hoped there was work cut out for the _Thunderer_ that same

day.

“I’m just crazy to hear those big twelve-inch guns boom,” he told his

companion, “though I guess it’ll nearly deafen us at first. We must

find out what the men do to soften the sound. I’ve heard that standing

on your toes helps a whole lot; and then holding your hands over your

ears is a good thing.”

“I’ve got some cotton that we can use to stop our ears up if it’s

necessary, so don’t bother your head about that part of it,” Jack told

him.

Having hastily finished their dressing, the two boys made their way to

the deck. They excited considerable interest among such of the crew as

they met, and unaware of what rank the two young chaps might hold many

of these saluted them as though they were officers.

Looking ahead in the early morning the boys could see the distant jaws

of land that doubtless marked the entrance to the Dardanelles Straits;

numerous other big and little war vessels dotted the surface of the

heaving sea.

Two American Boys with the Dardanelles Battle Fleet · 第 7 / 25 章