THE ACT OF A HERO
"All hands prepare for torpedo practice," was again the command on the
following morning.
At least six torpedoes were to be fired that day, to complete the
practice required of each ship. The "Long Island" got up steam and
pulled away to a remote part of the bay, so as not to be bothered by
the other ships of the fleet. In fact, every ship in the bay was doing
the same thing--getting off by itself.
The same tactics were to be followed as had been used on the day when
the battleship went aground; that is, firing when the ship was
traveling at full speed, about seventeen knots an hour.
The red-headed boy was retained on shipboard to attend to the
wig-wagging, Dan going out in the motor boat with an engineer and
coxswain.
"Red flag up!" shouted Dan. "Keep clear of the course."
The ship's siren blew, and soon they saw the path made by the marine
monster heading off in their direction. Dan, in the motor boat, was
near the extreme end of the range.
"Better sheer off, coxswain, because you can't tell where the old
torpedo is going when it gets near the end of its run. There she goes."
The torpedo took a long dive at an angle of about forty-five degrees
from her course.
"Look where she's going!"
Off in the direction that the projectile was headed was a fleet of
fishermen in small boats, tending to their nets, which were scattered
over an area of a quarter of a mile, standing almost end to end.
"Head toward them, head toward them! We must warn them!"
The coxswain was a seaman, not a coxswain by appointment, and he did
not appear to be as familiar with the work as he might have been. The
regular coxswain of the motor boat was in the sick bay, though Dan did
not know this.
"Torpedo heading your way! Look out for her!" he shouted with hands to
mouth. "Pull out, men; pull out for your lives!"
The fishermen looked at the Battleship Boy, standing poised on the
plunging bow of the motor boat, wondering if he had gone crazy.
"Pull out, I tell you! There she comes!"
The motor boat was driving; ahead full speed.
"They'll be hit, sure as fate," groaned the boy. "They can't see her
because they are so low in the water."
A yell from the fishermen told him that they had made sudden discovery
of their peril. Dan, with his wig-wag flag, motioned to them to
separate at a certain point. For a wonder they understood and laid to
their oars in great haste.
All at once from the water right at the side of one of the fishing
boats the torpedo emerged. It missed the boat by a matter of inches
only, but the tail of the projectile hooked the keel. Like a flash the
fishing boat turned over and the men were scrambling in the water.
"Drive in there, full speed!" commanded Dan.
"We'll get fouled in the fish nets."
"Never mind the nets. Those men may drown. Drive in there, I say!"
The man at the wheel did as the Battleship Boy had ordered him to.
"Now, slow down. Drift in."
A moment more and the life lines shot out, a half dozen wet and angry
fishermen being hauled aboard the motor boat. The men were fighting
angry.
Shaking the water from their clothes, they started for Dan with angry
imprecations. Not only had they been upset, but they discovered that
the truant torpedo was driving through their nets. Yells of rage from
the fishermen in other boats told Dan that they, too, had discovered
what was occurring.
On went the torpedo, ripping net after net. It seemed bent upon
destruction, for, after passing through all the nets in its course, it
turned almost squarely about and dived through the rest of the nets.
Every net, with its burden of fish, was utterly destroyed.
Dan grabbed up a boat hook as he saw the rescued men meant business.
"Stand back!" he commanded. "I'll smash the first one of you who comes
forward. Ahoy there, fishing boats. Come up here and take these men
off, and no nonsense about it, either."
The men hesitated.
"Throw him overboard!" cried a more turbulent spirit.
"Try it, if you want to, men, but I warn you this is a government boat.
If you commit an assault on board, or on one of its crew, you will be
in for a long term in a federal prison. Think you want to take that
chance?"
That settled it. The men realized that the young sailor was right, and
their anger cooled almost at once.
"The government will pay you for all the damage done to your nets, as
you well know. Draw alongside here," he commanded to one of the boats.
"Back out, coxswain. We are drifting around into the nets."
Dan wig-wagged to one of the whaleboats, asking them to row in and make
fast to the torpedo, for his own boat could get in no further. The
fishermen, thinking he was signaling for assistance, did not wait for
the fishing boat that was coming to take them off. They sprang
overboard and swam for the boat.
"You didn't have to do that," called Dan. "You'll be saying next that
we made you jump overboard."
The whaleboat made fast to the torpedo very quickly; then one of the
steamers towed the huge projectile back to the ship, where it was
hoisted aboard.
For the next shot the motor boat took up its station down nearer to the
ship, about half way between the end of the range and the battleship.
Orders from the ship were to have the whaleboats take positions at the
end of the course. They, being of lesser draught, could get in closer
to shore and could get the torpedo out in case it drove into shallow
water as before.
Near by lay steamer number two with twelve men and an ensign on board.
Both the motor boat and the steamer cruised slowly about while waiting
for the red flag to go up on the signal halyard, warning them that
another shot was about to be fired.
"Lay back farther," came the signal from the battleship.
"Motor boat or steamer?" wig-wagged Dan.
"Both."
"Steamer there!" called Dan.
"Aye, aye."
"Battleship orders you to lay back farther, and to keep off the course."
The steamer shifted its position, and Dan's boat pulled farther away,
at the same time moving off a little more toward the shore. The two
boats were now on opposite sides of the course that the torpedo was
expected to travel, though one can never be sure just where these
instruments of war are likely to go.
"Battleship under way," signaled Dan to the other small boats out on
the field.
For a time he watched the warship that was heading for the other side
of the bay. Finally the ship turned and started back, with a big,
white "bone between her teeth," as the saying goes when a ship is
plowing up the sea.
"Red flag going up," called the signal boy. "Wherry, there, ordered to
lay to starboard of the target," he signaled to the little boat dancing
on the waves half a mile away.
The small boat quickly took its position as ordered from the ship.
The siren blew a long blast, and with eyes turned toward the ship, all
the boat crews pulled back to a safe distance.
"Torpedo on the way," signaled Sam Hickey from his position on the ship.
"Torpedo under way," wig-wagged Dan Davis to the other boats. "Get
under way, the battleship signals," he told the little fleet.
At the same time the motor boat started along the course that the
torpedo was expected to follow, the small steamer a little in the lead.
"She's running close to the surface," muttered the Battleship Boy,
watching the projectile. "I can see the water spurting from her bows.
She'll never complete the run."
He turned to look at the steamer. He observed that she was at right
angles to the course.
"Sheer off! Sheer off!" shouted Dan. "You're right on the course.
You'll be hit!"
"We're disabled. Motor boat, there!" shouted the ensign in the small
steamer.
"Aye, aye, answered Dan.
"Lay over and help us out. We've thrown our propeller."
"Full speed ahead. May I take the tiller?"
The acting coxswain good-naturedly stepped aside, Dan taking the
steering wheel of the motor boat from his hands.
The lad's eyes traveled rapidly from the advancing torpedo to the
steamer that was rolling on a heavy swell, her crew of more than a
dozen men leaning over the side, straining their eyes to make out the
torpedo.
"She's going to strike us, sir," shouted the coxswain.
"Can't help it," answered the ensign. "All hands be ready to go
overboard when I give the command. Some of us will be caught. We
don't know where she is going to hit us."
The officer knew that only a miracle could save some of his crew from
being crushed to death when the heavy torpedo struck the little
steamer. To move the men to safe parts of the boat was not possible,
for it was impossible to say where the projectile would strike.
Perhaps she might change her course and not hit them at all. That
seemed to be the only hope now.
Turning their eyes, they saw the motor boat smashing through the sea,
throwing the water high from her bows. Dan Davis was leaning well
forward, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the engine
control, his eyes watching the torpedo and the steamer.
Now he would slow down ever so little, then drive ahead at full speed,
as if jockeying to cross the line in an international race.
The ensign was watching him with fascinated interest. He knew that the
boy had some daring plan in mind, but what that plan was he could not
understand. The officer was on the point of shouting to the Battleship
Boy to turn in and push them out of the way, but he refrained.
Dan had thought of this very thing, but he knew the chances were
against his being able to do so. He chose a bolder and more brilliant
way of saving the boat's crew, or of trying to save them.
The engineer of the motor boat was under the hood watching the engines.
"Get out of there quick!" commanded Dan.
The engineer came tumbling out from his cramped quarters.
"What--what----" he exclaimed.
"Keep still! Don't talk to me. All hands hold fast, for something is
going to happen in a minute."
At that instant the lad swung the bow of his boat about, heading it
directly toward the course of the advancing torpedo.
"Look out! You'll run into her!" yelled the engineer. "Don't you see
she's just under the surface. She'll be on top--there she is now!"
"Stand fast!" roared the boy.
Torpedo and motor boat were driving toward a point where they must
surely meet. Now Dan threw the speed full on.
Ere any of those wide-eyed observers realized what was occurring, the
crash came.
The prow of the motor boat and the nose of the torpedo met with a crash
that was heard far down the line. For a brief instant, projectile and
boat rose into the air like two locomotives in a head-on collision.
Dan Davis was lifted clear off his feet and hurled through the air,
head first, into the sea. The motor boat settled back and began
filling with water, half drowning the two stunned seamen who lay in the
bottom of the boat. The torpedo, however, like some living monster of
the deep, seemed to shake herself angrily, then she settled down and
shot forward, barely grazing the stern of the steamer.
Dan Davis' heroic effort had deflected the torpedo slightly from its
course, just enough to cause it to clear the little steamer, thus
saving the lives of at least part of the crew aboard her. A life ring
at the end of a rope brought Dan out of the salt water not much the
worse for his thrilling experience.
"How's the motor boat?" was his first question.
"Pretty hard hit, I guess," answered the ensign. "But that doesn't
matter."
The other steamer, having observed that an accident had occurred, put
on all steam and hastened to the scene of the wreck. About that time
some one discovered that the ship was making signals, and the ensign
asked Dan if he felt able to answer them.
For answer the lad asked for a signal flag. One was placed in his
hands, together with a spy glass.
"Battleship asking what the trouble is," he called.
"Tell them."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"And, while you are about it, you might tell them that Seaman Davis, by
his quick wit and pluck, saved the steamer and perhaps all our lives."
"Is that a command, sir?"
"No. Only a suggestion," answered the ensign, with an indulgent smile,
as he noted the boy's confusion.
"Battleship signaling for motor boat and steamer to return, sir."
"Tell them we both will have to come in in tow, then."
"Orders for second steamer to tow us in, sir."
The ensign gave the order to the other steamer.
While all this was going on a whaleboat had run alongside the motor
boat and had taken off the two men who had been left on her. They were
more or less dazed, but not seriously hurt. A brief examination of the
motor boat's engine developed the fact that the engine had been
wrenched loose from its foundation. The nose of the boat had been
badly smashed.
Dan was of the opinion, however, that the damage to the boat could be
repaired in a day. Things were not nearly so bad as they looked to be
at first glance.
The two disabled boats, towed by the steamer, made their way slowly
back to the ship.
"This torpedo practice has been a fine piece of business," Dan confided
to a shipmate. "It strikes me that this will be a good time to quit,
or somebody will get hurt."
"I guess you are IT, then. You'll catch it when the captain sees his
motor boat," answered the other, with a laugh.
The captain's lips pursed as, through his glasses, he made out the
broken bow of his boat. He said nothing until Dan and the ensign had
boarded the battleship.
"Ensign, who is responsible for the condition of that boat?" he
demanded.
The ensign stepped aside and held a few moments' earnest conversation
with the commanding officer. As he went on the stern expression on the
captain's face gave place to one of admiration. He nodded his head
approvingly. Those who did not understand how the motor boat had been
wrecked, felt sorry for Seaman Davis. In fact, Dan was beginning to
feel sorry for himself, as he realized what he had done.
"Davis, come here!" commanded the captain.
The boy approached, saluting.
"Mr. Brant has told me the story of your brilliant exploit. I
congratulate you, my lad."
"I--I am sorry, sir, that I smashed your boat."
"What is the boat when compared to a human life?"
"That--that is what I thought, sir. I did not think you would feel
very sorry about the boat when you knew."
"I should say not. But what about your own life? You gave no thought
to that, did you?"
"N--no, sir."
"That is the way with all brave men, and that act of yours was one of
the bravest I have ever seen. I want every man on board this ship to
know about it--to hear the full story. Mr. Coates," beckoning to the
executive officer.
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Call a general muster on the quarter-deck to-night and read my
commendation of Seaman Davis' heroic conduct."
"Aye, aye, sir,"
"But, Davis, I am sorry to say that your racing ambitions will not be
gratified this fall."
Dan's face showed his disappointment, but he said no word.
"The first torpedo, one of the unlucky ones, fell on Boatswain's Mate
Harper as it was being hoisted aboard, and broke a leg. Some one was
to blame for the accident. I do not know who, but I shall know."
"Oh, that is too bad!" breathed Dan, turning away to his disappointment.
"It's all off, Sam," he said when a few minutes later he joined his
chum.
"What's off!"
"The race we were to row day after to-morrow."
"On account of Joe Harper?"
"Yes, have you seen him?"
"No; I guess they won't let anybody see him to-day."
The boys went about their work for the rest of the day with downcast
countenances. The entire crew was in the doldrums. All their hopes,
pinned to the "Long Island's" racing crew, had been suddenly dashed. A
race now seemed out of the question. There was neither laughter nor
song in the forecastle that night. All hands went to bed surly and
disgusted.
On the following morning the captain's orderly called Dan Davis from
his gun station, with the information that the captain directed Seaman
Davis to proceed to the sick bay to see Boatswain's Mate Harper.
Dan obeyed the order, wondering at its having come to him through the
source it did.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Harper," said the lad as he entered the sick
bay, and the boatswain's mate extended a hand to him. "I'm sorry for
the race, and I am sorry for you. It's too bad."
"Yes; I've got a bad knockout. I don't believe my leg ever will be
right. I guess they will retire me, all right. But that isn't what I
sent for you to talk about. I want to talk about the race."
"The race? Why, there won't be any race now--that is, so far as we are
concerned. Some of the other ships will carry off the cup now."
Harper smiled wanly.
"There must be. The crew must run the race just the same."
"But it will not be possible without you."
"Perhaps there is no one on board who understands the racing game quite
as well as I do. I have run many of these gig races, Davis. But there
is one man on board in whom I have great confidence. He has the pluck.
He knows rowing. Even if he doesn't win, which could hardly be
expected of him, he'll make some of the other fellows work for their
laurels."
Dan's eyes were glowing.
"I--I am so glad to hear you say that, Mr. Harper. That is good news,
indeed. Then we will have the race after all?"
"Yes; the race will be run. They shall not have an opportunity to say
that the battleship 'Long Island' got cold feet at the last minute."
"They'd better not say it before me," answered Dan in a low voice.
"That's the talk!"
"May I ask who the man is who will act as coxswain of the racing gig in
to-morrow's race, sir?"
"Yes, you may. You will be surprised when I tell you. The man who is
going to run the 'Long Island's' boat is named Daniel Davis."
"Da--Da--I--I am to be coxswain to-morrow?" gasped the boy.
"Yes, you, Dan. And you're going to do yourself and every man on this
great ship proud."
Dan sat down in a chair rather suddenly. His face was pale and his
eyes seemed larger than usual.
"I--I am to race the crew?"
"You are to race the crew. I have asked that you be released from duty
to-day. Go off somewhere by yourself and think it over. Get your
balance; then come back here and we will talk it over."
Dan walked out of the sick bay without a word. His emotions were so
great that he could not talk.