"There goes the last of them," shouted the officer in Dan's boat.
Dan raised his flag, making the signal 333. This he did three times,
indicating that the work was finished.
"What is the time, sir?"
"Three minutes and twenty seconds," replied the officer. "That breaks
the record." Picking up his megaphone the officer shouted out the
tidings to the men who were out on the mine field. "Three minutes and
twenty seconds," he bellowed. "Best previous time beaten by forty
seconds."
A great cheer broke from the jackies drifting about in their little
boats over the mine field. Batteries had been placed, everything had
been done within the time named, and had the mines been charged with dry
guncotton any ship running into them would undoubtedly have been blown
up.
In the meantime Dan Davis was signaling the news to the battleship.
The "Long Island," expressed her congratulations in three long blasts of
her siren, at which the jackies set up another cheer. This time the
cheer reached to the ship itself.
"Battleship making signal of general recall, sir," Dan informed his
superior.
"Return to ship," shouted the officer through his megaphone.
All boats were now turned back. The mines were to be left as they were
until later in the day, or perhaps until the next day, when they would
be taken up. As a general rule planted mines are left out for
twenty-four hours.
Good time was made on the return, for it was nearly time for the noonday
mess, and every man in the outfit had a sharpened appetite after the
morning's exertions.
Reaching the ship, the men piled over the side to the quarter-deck,
where a number of the officers were gathered. The men were called to
attention on the quarter-deck. Stepping out before them, the captain
said:
"You have done well, lads. If you do as well in taking up the mines, our
record will stand a long time before it is beaten. I congratulate you
all, and I have also sent a wireless message to the admiral telling him
of your good work."
The bugle blew for dinner and all hands hurried to the mess rooms, where
they were left undisturbed for the next hour. This is one of the few
hours in the sailor's day when he is never disturbed, except in case of
emergency.
The moment the sailors sit down to their meals the little triangular red
flag mounts quickly up the signal halyard, where it is left fluttering
to the breeze until the meal is finished. That, also, is one hour of the
day when visitors are not welcomed aboard ship.
Dinner over, the smoke lamp was lit for half an hour, when all hands
lounged about decks, many smoking and telling stories. The jackies were
unusually jubilant on this sunny afternoon, for they had set a mark in
mine planting that would make their companions on the other ships of the
service more than envious.
Suddenly a bugle trilled out the strains of an order.
"Mine crews take to the boats!" bellowed a boatswain's mate.
The jackies uttered a shout. In a moment the scene of quiet on the
forecastle was changed into one of quick action. White-clad figures were
running and leaping for the quarter-deck, whence they boarded the small
boats. This was the landing place, the quarter-deck being lower than any
other part of the ship.
The men who had been tending the small boats trailing out astern of the
battleship had quickly propelled their craft alongside and were lying in
readiness to take the crews on board.
The jackies piled over the sides of the ship noisily, the officers
making no attempt to check their enthusiasm, well realizing that it was
because the men were in great haste to get out to the mine field and get
the mines up in record-breaking time.
Dan Davis and Sam Hickey were well up with the first to reach the
quarter-deck, though Dan was obliged to favor his lame wrist, now
paining him severely. This delayed him somewhat in getting down the sea
ladder, performing the feat with one free hand being rather awkward.
"Hurry up, elephant feet," shouted a voice from above.
"Come on, don't be all day about it," urged a companion from below. At
the same instant some one grabbed Dan's feet, giving him a violent tug,
which brought him down in a hurry. Dan landed across one of the seats in
the whaleboat with his injured hand doubled under him.
He felt sure he heard the wrist snap. The pain was almost unbearable.
"That's the way to get down when you are in a hurry, and especially when
some one else is in more of a hurry than you are."
The boy's face was pale, but despite the pain in his wrist he smiled
bravely as he climbed into the wherry moored alongside.
"What's the matter with the hand?"
"I broke my wrist this morning," answered Dan coolly. "That's all.
Nothing very much."
"Did you hurt it again just now?" demanded the jackie who had pulled him
down.
"I may have broken a few bones more or less, but don't let a little
thing like that worry you. 'Pills' can patch it up when we get back. Not
a word," warned Dan, with sudden interest as he saw the jackie preparing
to speak to the ensign in charge of the boat. Dan did not relish the
thought of being ordered back to the ship.
"Just as you say, matey. You've got the grit. I ought not to have yanked
you down that way, but I didn't know."
"That's all right," smiled Dan.
"Take up mines," blew the bugle.
"Cast off," commanded the coxswains of the various boats, whereupon all
the small boats seemed to leap clear of the ship.
Dan, in his small wherry, was lagging behind as usual. In his case the
boat had only one oarsman, while the other boats had several, but the
single oarsman did very well. The tide was running in, which helped them
all more or less.
The boy was holding his wrist, the pain growing more and more severe as
the moments passed. By this time the wrist had begun to swell until the
bandage about it fairly cut into the flesh.
"I hope I shall be able to stand it until I get back," he muttered. "I
guess I'll have to, unless I jump overboard."
Leaning over the side he trailed the hand in the cool water, which
seemed to relieve the pain a little.
Reaching the mine field, the boats quickly took their various stations,
and the men, resting on their oars, awaited the command, "Take up
mines."
The command came a few minutes later.
How the jackies did work! The great spheres came up dripping from the
salt sea, and in much quicker time than they had been planted.
"We have broken all records now for sure. Three minutes flat! Signal the
ship," ordered the officer in command.
Dan wig-wagged the time, and the boats started away with the mines
hanging over the sides, the jackies singing as they pulled lustily for
home.
All at once there was a loud splash from whaleboat number two, the boat
lurched heavily, the weight of the mine on the opposite side pulling it
over.
Hickey, who was standing up watching the ship for signals, went
overboard head first. The mine on the opposite side, slipping its
fastenings, had gone to the bottom in three fathoms of water.
But the red head of Sam Hickey appeared above the surface of the water
almost at once. He struck out for the boat, blowing the water from mouth
and nose, while his companions shouted encouraging words to him.
Several made ready to go overboard to the lad's rescue, but as soon as
he was able to free his mouth and nose of water he called to them not to
do so. Despite the severe effort of swimming against a strong tide,
Hickey finally made the boat, though well-nigh exhausted when at last he
stretched up his hands, grasping the gunwale of the whaleboat. The
jackies hauled him in, joking over his misfortune.
"Didn't soak the color out of your hair, did it, red-head?"
"No; all fast colors, warranted not to run," retorted Sam quickly.
In the meantime, Dan Davis was standing up in the little wherry making
efforts to attract the attention of the battleship. At last he succeeded
in doing so.
"Mine number six gone overboard," he wig-wagged.
"How much water?" asked the battleship.
"Three and a half fathoms."
"Ask for orders," commanded the officer in charge.
"Orders?" signaled Dan.
"Wherry lay to, to locate the mine. All other boats come in."
"I understand," answered Dan.
"Signaling again, sir," informed Dan.
"What do they say?"
"They have ordered that the signalman from the whaleboat number two
remain here in the wherry, sir."
"Very well, call the signalman from whaleboat number two. We shall have
this wherry so heavily loaded that she'll sink if we get in much of a
seaway."
Dan wig-wagged with his sound hand to the whaleboat, giving the orders
to Hickey to join him in the wherry. The officer in charge of the
whaleboat grumbled at being thus obliged to turn back and travel some
distance to reach the wherry. The latter had by this time cast out an
anchor so as to hold the boat in place near the spot where the mine had
gone down.
"What is this for?" demanded Sam, clambering over into the wherry, his
clothes still wet and dripping.
"I did not think best to ask the captain for his reasons for giving the
orders," answered Dan, with a meaning smile.
"I didn't mean that. Look out, the ship is making signals. Why don't you
tend to your business?" demanded Sam.
Dan's spyglass quickly went to his eye. He lowered the glass after a
moment, turning to the officer in command of the wherry.
"Diver coming out to go down for the mine, sir."
"Very good. I knew they would send out a diver."
"Is he going to dive for it?" questioned Sam, a new interest showing in
his eyes.
"Yes; he will go down in one of those diving suits we saw on deck this
morning. Did you never see a diver at work?"
"Never," answered Sam. "I should like to."
"You will have the opportunity very soon."
"I think the boat is coming over there now, sir," added Dan, addressing
the ensign.
"Cast the lead line over and see if you can locate the mine, lads."
They could not. In a short time the boat with the diver and diving
apparatus pulled up and began getting ready for work.
"Look," whispered Dan.
The diver was none other than Bill Kester, his face swathed in plaster,
his eyes scowling menacingly as he recognized the Battleship Boys.