VANDALS OF THE HIGH SEAS
An hour later, Charlie sat aboard Bill’s amphibian which now lay moored
to a sea-anchor a quarter of a mile to leeward of the _Merrymaid_. A
hundred yards from the plane, the gray submarine rocked gently to a long
Atlantic ground swell. Charlie, a pair of field glasses glued to his
eyes, focussed them alternately on the yacht and on the deck of the
submarine which was crowded with men.
The object of all this interest was a group of three aboard the
_Merrymaid_—three men and a youth. Left on board the vessel with a boat
wherewith to make their escape, these men were to open the seacocks of
the fated ship.
In the side of every vessel, somewhat below the waterline is a large
circular manhole, two or more feet in diameter into which fits a steel
plate or plug. The plate is fastened to the reinforced sides of the ship
by means of bolts arranged at intervals of a few inches around the
circumference of the hole. Into this plate fit large pipes which,
communicating with the sea, form an intake for salt water. This plug and
its manhole are together called the ship’s seacocks.
Opening a ship’s seacocks is a feat of not a little skill and danger.
The nuts of the bolts which fasten the plate to its manhole must be
unscrewed in such a manner that the plate loosens suddenly and not
gradually, so that the sailor who opens it may work until the last
minute and then escape from the inrushing water. To do this, special
strategy is necessary.
The men from the submarine went about the operation in the following
way: Early that morning when the _Merrymaid_ was first captured, some
men were sent down into her hold to begin preliminary work on the
seacocks. Two of these men carefully unscrewed one rusty nut at a time,
thoroughly greased its threads, and then screwed it back into place
again before loosening the next. While this was being done, the other
men unbolted the pipes leading into the seacock and removed all
obstructions in the way of hasty escape from its neighborhood.
This preliminary work of greasing and loosening was done merely in order
that the seacocks might be in readiness for immediate opening without
loss of time should an enemy appear or other emergency require hasty
action. The seacocks thus greased and disencumbered of pipes and
impediments were then left in place, and the men returned to the
submarine.
The men who had accomplished this work were now aboard the fated yacht
once more to finish the opening of her seacocks. With them were Bill
Bolton and the Baron. Bill, who had had never witnessed this particular
operation before, though heartily condoning the act, was deeply
interested. Knowing that he was a midshipman on summer leave from the
United States Naval Academy at Annapolis, Baron von Hiemskirk permitted
him to remain as a responsible party.
The Baron, a sailor and Bill stood on deck while another seaman named
Muller, a strong, heavy-faced fellow who made a specialty of this work,
climbed down to the seacock, equipped with a monkey wrench and a sledge
hammer. Around his waist was tied a rope, the other end of which was
held by the three above for use in emergency.
Muller, under direction of the Baron, took off the nuts from every
second bolt in the circle. Being recently loosened and greased, this was
easily done. After he had gone completely around the circumference of
the plate, the plug was being held by only half its former number of
bolts. Beginning once more, the adroit seaman again removed every second
nut, from the remaining bolts. The plate was now held by only one-fourth
the original number of bolts. This process of halving was continued
until the plug was finally being held by only two bolts on diametrically
opposite sides of the circumference of the seacock. By this time, the
pressure of the water outside was meeting with so little resistance that
the plate was bending slightly inward, letting water spurt between the
rubber packing and the steel plate up into the hold.
Muller, sweating in every pore, now thrust his wrench into his overalls
pocket, picked up his sledge, and called out: “Ready!”
At his signal, the men on deck took in the slack of the rope so that if
necessary they could hoist the imperilled seaman up out of danger.
Muller now lifted his sledge hammer, took accurate aim, and with a
single vigorous blow, smashed one of the two protruding bolts through
its nut and hole. As the plate did not fly loose, he let the heavy
hammer fall again, throwing all his strength into the blow, this time
upon the remaining bolt. With a dull explosion, the whole two-foot plate
flew loose, and a geyser of sea water gushed upward into the hold.
Muller at once leaped for the ladder and, still holding the sledge,
clambered to safety. Had he slipped, or been washed away by the force of
the water, his comrades on deck would have fished him up by means of the
rope.
By this time the yacht was rapidly filling. As the doors through all
compartments had previously been opened, the water coming through this
one seacock at once began flowing to all parts of the hold. The men on
deck were now in real danger, for a sudden listing of the vessel, or its
unexpectedly rapid sinking might mean their death.
All, therefore, at once scrambled overside to their boat, the Baron last
of all, and pulled away as quickly as possible, lest they be sucked into
the vortex of the sinking ship.
For a short space the _Merrymaid_ settled rapidly, giving the watchers
reason to expect her to go to the bottom within fifteen or twenty
minutes. Their expectations, however, were not realized, for the ship
soon began to rest at the same level.
The Baron turned to Bill. “Doubtless air has lodged in the tops of
compartments and is imprisoned elsewhere. She must ultimately go down,
of course, but there is no telling how long it will take—and I am in a
hurry to get away.”
“What are you going to do, use dynamite?”
“Yes. We’ve got sufficient here in the boat, for such an emergency.
We’ll row back now, and get busy.”
Dynamite was presently placed at the base of the ship’s two masts and
amidships, and the fuses lit. They then rowed swiftly away, and had
hardly reached a position where they would be out of danger, when the
explosion came. Three crashes, one after the other, shattered the sides
and decks of the vessel. The _Merrymaid_ was sinking rapidly. First her
bow filled; then the gallant yacht stood perpendicularly on her prow,
and slid with a rush out of sight.
At the instant her funnel plunged under, a final tremendous explosion
took place, throwing a cloud of steam and water high into the air. A
moment later, only a vortex of oily, tossing water gave evidence that a
million dollar yacht had gone to the bottom.
“It’s a dirty shame!” Bill spat the words without caring whether the
Baron took umbrage or not.
“It is indeed,” that blond giant answered seriously. “But this is war,
remember. I cannot use her, still less can I afford to have her
discovered. Yes, it is a shame. Vandalism, if you like, but none the
less, a necessity.” The Baron shook his head, then went on pompously:
“An hour ago that splendid little ship might have been of great service
to mankind. Now she is no more. Let it be her epitaph that she was
fulfilling her destiny, with work well done. May the world say the same
of me when I have gone to the eternal reward.”
Bill kept silent and managed to conceal his disgust. He did not
appreciate such philosophizing. Neither could he agree with the Baron’s
estimate of his own worth. His work might be well done, but in itself
piracy on the high seas could hardly be called more than a disgraceful
profession. Bill began to realize that the commander’s brain, although
active enough, was more than slightly warped.
They rowed over the spot where the _Merrymaid_ had gone down, and looked
about for any stray bits of wreckage which might have floated to the
surface. They found none, so made for the amphibian at once.
“You will wait until you see us take off before you do the same, Mr.
Bolton,” directed the Baron with a return of his superior-officer
manner, as Bill boarded the plane.
“Aye, aye, sir. Any further orders?” Bill returned the military manner
with interest.
“Yes. You will follow my craft as though you were number two of a
patrol. Land when I land, and taxi over for further instructions.”
“Very good, sir.”
“A pleasant flight, Bolton.”
“Thank you, Baron. The same to you, sir.”
The boat moved off in the direction of the submarine and Bill climbed
into his fore cockpit. Charlie was already in his place in the rear
cockpit, and Bill noticed that he seemed strangely quiet, almost sullen.
“What’s eating you, old boy?” Bill turned round to face him, then added
kindly, “I don’t blame you for feeling low. It’s hard lines about the
_Merrymaid_. Made me feel rotten myself. Nastier piece of vandalism was
never committed. But you mustn’t take it out on me.”
“Well, I thought you and the chief were my friends,” began Charlie
aggrievedly.
“But we are—what makes you think we’re not?”
“Oh, I know you saved me a hiding—and risked your life for that pirate.
That was a bully thing to do, but now you and Chief Osceola have joined
up with them and—”
“How come—joined up with them?”
“Why, didn’t I hear you, myself, tell the Baron you would work for
him—do exactly what he told you to do?”
“So that’s it.” Bill’s laugh was without humor. “There’s no good reason
why I should explain my actions to you, but I like you, Charlie, and I’m
sorry for you into the bargain. Now, pin back your ears—”
“Well, I’m listening!”
“But, before I tell you what’s what, I want your promise to keep your
mouth shut!”
Charlie produced a packet of gum. He tossed Bill a stick and began to
munch another. “Okay,” he said earnestly, his eyes on the older lad’s,
“let’s have it.”
“I should think you might have guessed it—but neither Osceola nor myself
have gone in with these pirates. I gave the Baron my word to obey
orders—but only so far as they have to do with driving his planes. It
was either that or being locked up—and cutting out any chance there
might be to escape. It’s the same with Osceola. He saw my scheme quick
as winking—which is more than you did—but then, you’re just a kid, of
course.” Bill’s eyes twinkled as he saw the boy’s discomfiture, but he
went on more seriously. “The Baron is so sure of himself and his strong
organization that he has no fear that we two can do anything to hinder
his plans. But unless we’re allowed some freedom, don’t you see, Osceola
and I might just as well have given up before we started?”
Charlie was profoundly interested and ashamed of himself. “Gee, I was a
pill, all right. But, Bill—do you really think the three of us could
break up the gang?”
“Well, you never can tell till you try,” Bill answered. “First of all,
we must pretend to work in with this bunch of sea bandits—do our best
not to arouse their suspicions, you know. Then, when we learn more about
them and their ways of doing business, it will be time enough to start
planning on our own account.”
“That’s right. And don’t you worry. I’ll keep quiet. I wouldn’t breathe
a word!”
“You mustn’t, kid—not even to your dad and mother when you see them.”
“Cross my heart—hope to die if I do, Bill.”
“That’s all right, then. And always remember that it’s the three of us
against a great big organization. A single slip on our part—and well, so
far as we’re concerned, it would be just too bad.”
“I’ll keep my promise, Bill. Any idea where these pirates have their
hangout? Where we are bound for now?”
“I have not. Why?”
“Some hideout on the coast, I suppose. Shouldn’t wonder if maybe it was
somewhere in Pamlico or Albemarle Sound. There used to be lots of
pirates in those waters long ago, before the Revolution, I mean. There’s
a book at home, tells all about them.”
“Times have changed a lot since then,” mused Bill, “and piracy, too, I
reckon.”
“Then you don’t think they’ve a base of some kind over there?”
Bill was facing forward now, staring steadily out over the water.
“Something quite different, Charlie,” he muttered; and then in a sharp
tone that made the boy start—“So that’s the way they work it!”
“Gee whiz!” Charlie craned his neck and gazed in the same direction.
“The submarine’s sprouting wings!”