BOMBARDED BY BIG GUNS
Dan was cool under the dreadful situation in which he found himself.
His mind was clear and active now. He felt no sense of fear.
Glancing about, he finally located the battleship, though he was able
to see it only when the schooner rose on some mighty swell. The ship
appeared to be far away, but from her forward cage mast a broad beam of
light was being thrown down on the water. After a time Dan made out a
speck on the water near the warship.
"That's the cutter," he muttered. "Thank goodness, they have not been
swamped. I wonder what became of the other boat? They must have
gotten aboard before this. But how came the cutter to go away and
leave me so soon, I cannot understand."
Dan did not know that his warning to the cutter to wait for him had not
been heard by the coxswain of the latter boat, the lifeboat having
pulled away almost at once. The lad now shouted at the top of his
voice, but he could not have been heard a ship's length away.
Once the big searchlight fell across the wave-swept decks of the
"Oriole," hovered there a moment, then was quickly withdrawn.
"The boats are safe on board, I guess," decided Dan. "The ship is
moving. They are going away. I am left. I guess I had better go
below or I shall be swept into the sea. As it is, I shall not have
very long to wait for the end, judging from the way the schooner is
listing. Good-bye, old 'Long Island,'" muttered the boy, saluting, as
he fixed his eyes on the spot where he figured the stern of the
battleship should be. Then all was shut out in a blinding wave that
swept the deck of the disabled craft.
When the wave had passed, Dan was gripping the deck house, gasping, for
he was almost choking with the salt water he had swallowed. He was
still clinging to the bird.
"Come, Tom, we had better go below," he said, quickly raising the
hatch, letting it fall over him with a bang as he leaped down into the
corridor that led to the cuddy. But, quick as he was, a flood of salt
water poured down with him. For a moment Dan seemed to be swimming in
it.
"Tom Lubber, it strikes me that the safest place for you, just now,
will be in your old billet up there. If you are going to be saved, I
guess some one else will have to do it. I do not seem to be an entire
success as a life saver."
The bird-cage was placed on its hook, after which the lad stripped the
covering from it, bringing from the parrot a chorus of protests and
scornful epithets.
Dan curled up on a bunk, leaning against a bulk-head. He was dripping
wet, but to this he gave no thought. He did not even realize that such
was the case. He was wondering how long it would be ere the old
schooner would take a plunge to the bottom of the ocean.
"It must be a long way to the bottom," decided the Battleship Boy. "I
shan't know when we reach there, anyway, so what's the odds how far it
is? Perhaps it would be better for me to jump overboard and put a
quick end to it. Yet," he reflected, "while I am alive I am alive. I
guess that's good sense, and it gives me an idea."
For several moments the boy was lost in deep thought.
"If the rudder is still in place I may be able to do something that
will ease matters a little. Of course I do not know how much water
there is in the hold. Perhaps the bottom has been burst open, and all
that is keeping us together is the lumber. I'm going to make an
investigation, at any rate. I wonder if they have discovered my
absence on board the battleship?"
* * * * *
They had not discovered his absence. In boarding the battleship with
the rescued crew the whaleboat had been wrecked, as had its mate in
starting out. One of the rescued men was drowned in the sea just as he
was reaching for a rope that had been cast to him by a sailor on the
deck of the warship.
For a time there was great excitement on board the battleship. At
last, however, all hands were hauled aboard. The cutter's crew and
passengers were landed without disaster, the daughter of the master of
the "Oriole" looking upon the whole affair as a most delightful
experience.
After the rescued sailors had been cared for by their comrades on the
battleship, and the master's family made comfortable in one of the
cabins of the captain, the latter made his way to the bridge.
"Let us get under way now, Coates," said the captain, addressing the
executive officer. "I don't like to lie near that floating hulk there
any longer than I am obliged to."
The ship began to move.
"I'll tell you what, Coates, I believe we had better break her up,
don't you?"
"The schooner, sir?"
"Yes."
"An excellent idea. Shall I do it?"
"Yes. Use the seven-inch port battery."
"Boatswain's mate!" roared the executive officer.
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Turn out the seven-inch starboard gun crews. Order them to take their
stations and stand ready with six rounds of solid shot."
"Aye, aye, sir."
The orders were quickly transmitted to the gun crews by the mate. The
men went to their stations on a run. This was an opportunity that
delighted the hearts of every jackie on board. It was something more
than the ordinary target practice. It was, in reality, battle
practice. Ammunition was quickly hoisted to the seven-inch gun turret,
and, taking a wide circle, the ship began swinging back toward the spot
where the "Oriole" had last been seen. The searchlights were playing
over the mountainous seas in search of her.
"There she is, four points off the starboard bow, sir," shouted a
lookout.
"What is the range, Mr. Coates?" asked the captain.
"About four thousand yards."
"Better make it three."
The outlines of the schooner could be faintly made out by focusing the
searchlight upon her.
"Within the range, sir."
"Very well, when you are ready."
A bell buzzed in the starboard seven-inch forward turret, while an
indicator told the waiting gun crew that the doomed ship lay three
thousand yards from them. An instant later a projectile had been
shoved into the big gun, the breech closed and the gun pointer crawling
to his station, was sighting the piece on the ghostly outline of the
"Oriole."
"Fire!"
The battleship heeled ever so little, followed by a report as if the
ship had blown up.
Again the bell in the turret buzzed.
"Aye, aye, sir," answered the gun captain.
"An excellent shot," came the information in the voice of the executive
officer. "You shot away the foremast. The schooner lies very low in
the water. You will have to depress your gun a little more this time,
or wait until the target rises on a swell. Drill her this time."
"Aye, aye, sir; we'll drill her."
"Boom!" roared the big seven-inch, as it hurled the second heavy
projectile straight at the unfortunate schooner.
"Fair hit," shouted the executive officer in a tone of exultation.
"Hit her hard, sir?"
"Dead amidships. Smash another in the same place and you'll have her
on the way to Davy Jones's ditty box."
Again the forward starboard seven-inch spoke.
"Miss," came the warning. "Poor work. Cease firing and give the after
turret's crew a chance."
"Aye, aye, sir."
The after-turret's crew sprang to their work with a shout of joy. In
an incredibly short time after receiving the command, their weapon
began to roar, shot following shot, as if they were engaged in record
target practice for the silver cup.
"Hit," came the call down the speaking tube after each shot.
Projectile after projectile landed in the hull of the doomed schooner.
"There she goes!" cried the captain, catching a faint glimpse of the
"Oriole" as she slipped down a great sloping hill of water. "That's
the last of her."
"Shall we give her another round, sir?"
"No; cease firing. She is no doubt broken to pieces by our shot by
this time. You do not see her, do you?"
"No, sir. The searchlight doesn't seem able to find the schooner."
"Then we need trouble ourselves no further about her. It's a good job,
Coates," smiled the captain, rubbing his palms together in keen
satisfaction. "We have rescued the crew of a disabled ship in one of
the worst gales that I ever saw on the Atlantic coast. We have lost
none of our own men and only one of the seamen belonging to the
schooner. Of course I'm sorry that he was lost, but we did all that
human beings could accomplish."
"We did, sir."
At that moment the captain's orderly approached.
"What is it?" demanded the captain, observing that the orderly wished
to say something to him.
"Seaman Sam Hickey asks permission to speak to the commanding officer,
sir."
"What does Seaman Hickey wish to say to me?"
"He did not say, sir."
"I will see him."
Sam, his red hair standing straight up, for he was hatless as well as
coatless still, approached the captain, came to attention and saluted.
"Well, lad, what is it?"
"I have not seen my friend Dan Davis since the boats returned, sir," he
said.
"What's that?"
"I find that Davis did not return in either the whaleboat or the
cutter. He went back to save some one that the girl begged him to
save. I've made inquiry and learn that the somebody was a miserable
parrot."
"Seaman Davis on that schooner?" demanded the captain in a startled
voice.
"Yes, sir, I think so, sir."
"And we have shot the decks from under him with our seven-inch guns!"
groaned the captain.
He immediately ordered that the searchlights try again to pick the
schooner up. But no search revealed her. By reason of the violence of
the gale, the battleship, for her own safety, had been compelled to
steam some distance away. But she lay to throughout the night, and
only when the early daylight revealed nothing of the schooner was she
headed for the Delaware Breakwater.