An investigation did follow. It began right after reveille the next
morning.
As soon as possible, after having gotten up from his uncomfortable bed
on the floor, Dan hastened to the sick bay, for his wrist was swelling
and demanded immediate attention.
The surgeon examined it carefully.
"You have broken two small bones in the wrist. How did you do it?"
The lad explained.
"Very well, I shall have to put you on the binnacle list to-day. You
will not be able to do any heavy work with that hand for some days to
come."
"I do not wish to go on the binnacle list," replied the lad promptly.
"You don't wish to?"
"No, sir."
"Then you are different from most sailors. They all pull the list on the
slightest pretext, some under no pretext at all. Why are you so
particular?" questioned the surgeon, his curiosity aroused by the
unusual objection on the boy's part.
"I expect to have duties to perform."
"What are they?"
"Mine work."
"You will not be able to work on mines to-day. I shall not permit it,"
decided the surgeon firmly.
"I hope to go out as a signal man. I can do that, can I not?"
"You might, but I shall advise against it."
"Please do not tell the officers that," pleaded Dan. "I want to go. It
is my first chance to prove that I am good for anything at all. I have
made a mess of almost everything I have tried so far."
"I hear differently."
Somehow the earnest young seaman seemed to appeal to the sympathies of
the surgeon. He was different from the others; perhaps that was the
reason.
"From what I have heard I judge that you already have distinguished
yourself," smiled the doctor.
"How so, sir?"
"In the little argument you had with Able Seaman Kester, for instance."
Dan flushed.
"May I go out with the mines, sir?" he asked hurriedly.
"Yes; I'll let you go, but I shall have to put you on the report. First,
let me bind the wrist up and splint it. Be as careful of the injured
member as possible. You are liable to do still further damage if you
subject the wrist to any sudden strain."
"I'll be careful, sir."
After bandaging the wrist, the surgeon allowed his patient to go. On his
morning report to the captain, giving the list of sick and injured, the
surgeon made the following notation:
"Ordinary Seaman Daniel Davis, bones of wrist fractured, said to have
been sustained by fall from hammock. Refuses to take sick leave or be
placed on binnacle list, saying he has important duties to perform."
A smile of approval appeared on the face of the captain when he read the
notation.
"The boy is all right. He will do all right. I must keep my eye on him
to see that he does not get sidetracked in the wrong direction."
Calling his orderly the captain said:
"Tell the officer of the deck that Ordinary Seaman Davis is to be
excused from heavy duty to-day. He will go out with the mine boats in
the capacity of signalman. Tell the officer of the deck to give the
proper orders and to have Davis notified."
The orderly saluted and retired to carry out the orders of the
commanding officer.
"I wish there were more such in the Navy," mused the captain.
With a great rattle and bang the mines were being hoisted to the deck
from somewhere far down in the ship. Neither lad ever had seen mines
before, and both were curious to know all about them.
Many men now being at work on the quarter-deck, Sam among the number,
Dan was at liberty to go there and watch the work.
The mines were spherical, made of steel and hollow. They were about two
feet in diameter, bolted in the middle. The mine men were now at work
taking the mines apart.
Inside the sphere was a can of wet guncotton, with an opening left for a
charge of dry guncotton, which is put in place when the mines are being
laid for an actual enemy. This was the only part of the operation that
was to be omitted in the practice work, there being no necessity for so
dangerous an operation.
The quarter-deck of the battleship, with all the apparatus strewn over
it, somewhat resembled a wreck. Down by the sides of the ship all the
boats had been drawn up ready to receive the heavy mines. In the
meantime the navigator had gone out in the motor boat to take bearings
and place buoys showing where the mines were to be dropped.
"Stand by to launch mines," came the command at last.
The signal was given by a bugle call. Everyone was on edge, for the time
required to put the mines over into the small boats was to be taken and
would count on the record.
The Battleship Boys climbed over the side with their signal flags, each
dropping into a whale boat, though the operation proved a severe strain
on Dan's injured wrist.
"Launch mines!"
The signal was blown loud and clear.
Crash after crash followed the bugle's command, as steel met steel when
the mines were clamped together.
"Silence!" roared the executive officer as the men began shouting in
their excitement.
As fast as the mines were bolted together they were rolled to the side
of the ship. There tackle was quickly hooked to them, then at command
the heavy spheres were swung over the side, being carefully lowered to
the boats below. There they were hung over the opposite sides of the
small boats, one mine balancing the other. This would make placing the
mines much easier than if they were to be taken over into the boats, for
in that case they would have to be lifted out.
In an incredibly short time every one of the sixteen deadly implements
of warfare was on the boats. Each boat held either an ensign or a
midshipman, who was in command.
Sam was in one of the large whaleboats, while Dan occupied the wherry
with an ensign and an oarsman.
"Three minutes, lads," came the information from the deck.
The jackies sent up a cheer that might have been heard far over the
sunlit sea. The morning was a glorious one, the sea having quieted down
to a sluggish roll that scarcely disturbed the ship at all, though the
small boats bobbed about somewhat, thus giving more zest to the work.
"Lay mines," came the command.
Half a hundred hardy tars bent themselves to the oars and the fleet of
boats slipped away from the towering sides of the "Long Island," the men
pulling for the mine field off to the southeast.
Each Battleship Boy carried a spy glass under his arm. Now and then he
would place it to his eye for a long look at the ship.
"The ship is making signals, sir," Dan informed the ensign in command of
his boat.
"What do they want?"
"They are saying that whaleboat number two is off its course, sir.
Orders, sir, to bear more to the southwest."
"Wherry, there," spelled Dan. "That's us." He acknowledged the signal.
"Pull up. Wherry lagging behind!"
Dan translated the message to his superior officer. The lad was glad
that it was not he who was tugging at the oars, for the perspiration was
dripping from the face of the oarsman by this time.
As each boat reached the buoy where it was to locate its mine, the men
would toss their oars as a signal that they were ready. Some time was
required for all the boats to get in their proper places.
In the meantime Dan Davis was standing up in the wherry with his flag
ready for signaling. At last the oars in each boat of the fleet were
tossed, which means held upright.
"Ready," wig-wagged the Battleship Boy.
He held his flag high above his head with one hand--the injured one--the
other hand holding the spy glass to his eye watching the signal halyards
of the battleship.
A flag fluttered to the breeze on the ship. Instantly Dan dipped his own
signal flag.
A splash from a cutter, followed by a series of splashes from the other
boats of the little fleet, told him that the mines were going overboard.
The second leg of the contest against time was on. Sam Hickey sat in the
whaleboat irritated because he had had little or nothing to do. Had he
but known it, however, there was plenty of opportunity ahead of him to
enable the lad to show the stuff he was made of.