HARD AND FAST AGROUND
"Wow!"
Sam, who had climbed to the top of the signal box for a better view of
sea, was so startled that he lost his footing in leaping to one side.
"Look out below!" he howled. "I'm coming!"
"Gangway!" cried half a dozen sailors at once, as, with quick
intuition, they discovered what was occurring.
Hickey, in attempting to right himself, had plunged head foremost from
the signal box. In his descent he caught a signal halyard. He bounded
up into the air like a tight-rope walker. The next instant he struck a
chain that had been rigged as a railing on the companionway to the
lower bridge.
"Look out below!" bellowed a voice. "Torpedo coming your way."
Sam balanced, for one awful second, on the companionway chain, then
pitched downward through the open hatchway. He disappeared in the
direction of the gun deck. From the commotion below it was evident to
those on the lower bridge that he had reached his destination.
"What's all that racket?" demanded the captain, looking aft from the
navigator's bridge.
"Signalman fell off, sir."
"Fell off where?"
"Off the signal box, sir."
"Where is he?"
"I think the gun deck stopped him, sir."
"Get another man up there to attend to the signaling. We cannot bother
with such clumsy lubbers."
"No other signalmen on board, sir."
The captain uttered an exclamation of impatience.
"Find out if he is hurt. Watch that torpedo, Mr. Coates."
"We're watching it, sir. It is following a very straight course."
For a few seconds after leaving the torpedo tube, far below the surface
of the water, the torpedo wavered as if uncertain what course it should
follow.
All at once it straightened out and darted away off toward Gardiner's
Island, where the target could be faintly made out through the
officer's powerful glasses. The gyroscope, with which all torpedoes
are equipped, caused the projectile to right itself. At its rear end
might be seen, in that brief glance, a propeller whirling so rapidly as
to cause the water to boil, the propeller being operated by a
compressed-air engine within the shell of the torpedo itself.
After righting itself the torpedo dived under the water several feet,
but its course could be followed by the foam it left in its path.
One of the dinghies, far out, lay too close to the course, the captain
thought.
"Signalman--where's that signalman?" he shouted.
"He's coming, sir."
Hickey's red head appeared through the open hatchway, followed by the
body of the limping Sam.
"Get on your station!" commanded the captain. "What's the matter with
you?"
"I got shot off the signal box, sir."
"Shot off the signal box!" grumbled the commanding officer, in a tone
of disgust. "Are you able to use the flag?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then signal that dinghy that they are in the path of the torpedo."
By the time Hickey had clambered clumsily to the signal box again, he
was too late to be of service. Fortunately the men in the dinghy had
seen the torpedo just in time. A quick pull at the oars had turned the
boat in such a way that the projectile shot past with only a few feet
to spare.
"She's heading very straight, sir," the executive officer informed his
superior.
"Yes; that's a fine run. But it isn't the fault of our signalman that
the torpedo didn't run down the dinghy. Hickey, that was about the
worst performance of its kind that I ever saw. See that you do not let
it happen again. If you do, I shall take you off signal work entirely."
"Aye, aye, sir," answered the Battleship Boy, whose face was now redder
than the shock of fiery hair that was standing straight up on his head.
"I'll show him," muttered Sam. "I'm a clumsy lummox, but I know my
business just as well as he does his. Wait till I get a chance to
wiggle this flag! I'll make those fellows out in the small boats think
they're getting struck by lightning. I'll----"
"Ask them if they can see the torpedo," broke in the voice of the
captain.
Sam set his flag dancing. The moment he began to work with it all his
nervousness left him. The red-headed boy was himself again.
"Steamer number one says they are after it, sir."
"Do they know where it is?"
"Yes, sir; they have it located."
"Did you see the way that man Hickey, handled the signal flag, Coates?"
"Yes, sir; I observed him."
"The boy is all right, in spite of his clumsiness. Can you make out
the torpedo, Coates?"
"No; but I see the whaleboat putting off for it. The water there is
evidently too shallow for the steamer to get in."
Sam's glass was at his eye, as he balanced himself lightly on the iron
railing surrounding the signal box.
"Whaleboat number one signals that they have the torpedo, sir," sang
out Sam Hickey.
"Very good. You will fire the starboard torpedo next, will you not?"
asked the captain of the ordnance officer.
"Yes, sir, as soon as the men get that one on board."
The whaleboat made fast a rope to the torpedo, and then the steamer,
taking the smaller boat in tow, headed for the ship, towing the monster
in their wake. Beaching the ship, the torpedo was hauled aboard with a
derrick and placed on the deck, to be taken apart and shipped back to
the torpedo room below.
It had made a splendid flight, and all hands were pleased with the
first shot. It had been fired exactly as it would be in war time,
except that it carried no explosive on the practice flight.
Dan, out on the water, was now improving his opportunity to put his
signal corps through a series of practice messages. He was drilling
the men of the signal corps in quick reading. First he would wig-wag a
message to the fleet of small boats; then they would repeat it back to
him as fast as they were able to operate the flags.
"They're signaling out there, sir," said the executive officer to the
captain.
"Signalman, attention! Attend to your business."
Hickey looked up to the bridge in surprise.
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Don't you see them signaling to you out there?" demanded the captain.
"I see them signaling, yes, sir. I've been watching them for the past
ten minutes, sir."
"What do they want?"
"Nothing, sir."
"Then what are they wig-wagging for?"
"Seaman Davis is drilling the squad, sir."
"Oh!"
The captain turned on his heel, giving the boy a view of his broad back.
"Mebby that one didn't land under the belt!" chuckled the red-headed
Battleship Boy. "I guess I know my business, I do."
The ordnance officer announced that he was ready for another shot.
"Very well; we will get under way," announced the captain, the ship
having laid to while the torpedo was being shipped aboard. "Pull over
pretty close to that shore there before you swing. Chains, there!"
"Aye, aye, sir," answered the men in the chains, the little platform
from which the lead is cast to determine the depth of water under the
ship.
"How much water have you?"
The leadsman made a cast.
"By the mark, ten," he called in a sing-song voice.
"Keep it going."
The ship was slowly drawing near a high, sandy bluff.
"By the mark, seven."
"Slow down both engines," commanded the captain. "Give us another
sounding."
"By the deep, six.... And a quarter, five."
"Seaman Davis signaling, sir," called Sam Hickey.
"What does he say?"
"Begging the captain's pardon, when he went out on the range he crossed
your present course. He says there is shoal water less than a fathom
deep three ship's lengths ahead of you, sir."
"How's your lead?" thundered the captain, turning to the men in the
chains below him.
"Quarter less ten," was the answer.
"That is plenty of water. No cause for alarm there. Tell the engineer
to go ahead."
The "Long Island" took a bone in her teeth at once, and began forging
ahead.
"Signals again, sir."
"What is it?"
"Signalman wig-wags that there is a deep hole about where you are now.
On the other side of it is shoal water."
"Back both engines, full speed!" commanded the captain with almost
explosive force. "Keep casting your lead! Tell me when she begins to
go astern."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Do you know of any shoal in here, Lieutenant Douglas?" questioned the
captain of the navigator.
"No, sir; there is nothing on the chart to show it. I guess the boy is
in error."
"If so, it is the first time I ever knew him to be. Ah! What's that?"
There came a slight jolt, then a steadying of the ship.
"She's stopped, sir," called the man with the lead. "And a half, two."
"Is she backing?" The captain's voice showed deep concern.
"No, sir. She's aground, sir."