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BOY SCOUTS IN THE NORTH SEA
Or
"The Mystery of a Sub"
by
G. HARVEY RALPHSON
[Illustration: The young divers went below and attached their
chains to sunken U-13.]
Made in U. S. A
M. A. Donohue & Company
Chicago :: New York
Copyright, 1915,
By
M. A. Donohue & Co., Chicago
Made in U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I A Package Vanishes 7
II Difficulties And Dangers 18
III The Man With The Scar 30
IV the Lena Knobloch 42
V Two Mysterious Changes 54
VI A Difficult Departure 65
VII A Warning From The Sea 76
VIII More About The "U-13" 87
IX A Strange Visit 98
X Shipwreck And Rescue 109
XI A Fleet Of Submarines 120
XII A New "U-13" Appears 131
XIII A Threatening Situation 142
XIV Helped By An Enemy 153
XV Mistaken Identity 165
XVI A Strange Discovery 176
XVII Alone And Helpless 187
XVIII Help From A Stranger 198
XIX Mackinder Again 209
XX A Mysterious Craft 221
XXI A Mystery Explained 232
XXII More Mystery 240
XXIII The Mystery Of The "U-13" 246
BOY SCOUTS IN THE NORTH SEA;
or,
"THE MYSTERY OF A SUB"
CHAPTER I
A PACKAGE VANISHES
"Good night!" exclaimed a lad of about eighteen peering from the window
in a railway coach. "This train's running on a regular lake!"
"What's that, Jimmie?" asked a companion approaching the first speaker.
"Are we on a ferry? I still feel the wheels hit the rail joints."
"Oh, yes, now and again we crawl along a rail's length or two," admitted
the boy, "but it's mighty slow work! I'm getting tired!"
"What place is this, anyway?" inquired a third boy coming to the window.
"It looks as if we're going out into the ocean!"
"We can't be headed for Holland at this rate!"
"We surely are!" assured the one addressed as Jimmie. "I'll bet I can
tell you what that is! The Belgians cut their dikes and flooded the
country to drive out the Germans. My dream book says that's it!"
A general laugh greeted this assertion. Moving about in the limits of the
none too commodious compartment of a European railway carriage four boys
dressed in the well-known khaki uniforms of the Boy Scouts of America
endeavored to observe the scenery through the windows.
To those of our readers who have followed the adventures of this group of
boys as related in the previous volumes of this series no introduction is
necessary. However, for the benefit of those who have not been so
fortunate, a word of explanation may not be out of place at this time.
The lads had very recently been engaged in a man hunt that led through
parts of France and Belgium. They had visited the trenches of both the
French and German forces and had several times faced death.
Just now they were practically prisoners, having been accorded passage
from the German lines to a neutral port in Holland, where they expected
to take ship for their home town of New York.
Ned Nestor, a fine, manly lad, was the Leader of the Wolf Patrol of New
York City, Boy Scouts of America. He had been often selected for
difficult work by the Chief of the United States Secret Service because
of his aptitude for the work. His coolness and sound judgment had carried
himself and his companions through many difficulties. It was a mission of
this character upon which the boys had recently engaged and from which
they were now returning.
Jimmie McGraw, freckle-faced and red-headed, was a member of the Wolf
Patrol of which Ned was leader. He was an ardent adherent of Ned's.
Brought up a newsboy on the Bowery of New York the boy had come under the
observation of the older lad, who had found him indeed worthy of all the
care which had been bestowed.
Jack Bosworth, the son of a prominent corporation attorney, and Harry
Stevens, whose father was a well-known automobile manufacturer, were the
other members of the group. These latter two were members of the Black
Bear Patrol of New York. All the lads appeared to be about eighteen years
old. Their tidy uniforms, their well-knit frames and their alert
attitudes bespoke the constant training of their leader.
As they looked from the windows of the car in which they now found
themselves they discovered that the situation was even as Jimmie had
stated. The country was flooded with water released from the dikes.
"Tell you what," declared Jack Bosworth, after a prolonged inspection of
the landscape, if it may be so called, "this is some wet!"
"You win the argument," announced Jimmie, wrinkling his freckled nose at
his companion. "I always said you were the wise little fox!"
Jack's answer to this pleasantry was an attempt to box the younger lad's
ears. Jimmie's resentment of the procedure drew the others into a
friendly scuffle that terminated only when the contestants paused for
breath.
"I wish they'd hurry up and let us get onto dry land again!" said Jimmie,
when he next found himself able to draw a long breath.
"You won't find much dry land when it rains like it's going to right
now!" stated Harry, pointing out of the window. "Watch it come down!"
"I hope they don't get to the border while it rains like this," answered
Ned, with an involuntary shiver. "I don't fancy standing out in such a
drizzle as this appears to be. We'd be wet through in no time!"
"Why, do they make us get out?" queried Harry.
"Yes, I understand from what the officer said back there at the old
castle that we'll be searched body, boots and baggage."
"And what if they find something they don't like?"
"Perhaps they'll put us in jail for a few months or until the war has
ceased," replied Ned. "I'm sure I don't know what they'll do."
"Br-r-rh!" shivered Jimmie. "I wouldn't turn our old friend The Rat out
into a rain like this! That would be cruelty to animals!"
"Small chance anyone'll have to turn him out now!" spoke up Jack. "That
dynamite fixed him so he won't be turned out for some time!"
"Don't speak of it, boys," protested Ned. "I see him yet!"
"Let's change the subject," proposed Jimmie, out of consideration for his
chum's feelings. "I think I see some land. Can we be coming to the border
I wonder? I hope we are and that we can soon be starting home!"
"Train's slackening speed," announced Harry. "They're stopping!"
It was even as the boy had said. With many a bump and groan of grinding
brakes the train crawled to a standstill beside a hut built upon a rise
of ground. Here was stationed a force of soldiers detailed to the work of
searching and examining all who attempted to pass from Belgium to
Holland. Those who were not certified as refugees or in other ways vested
with proper authority to pass were promptly rejected and turned back.
A guard came running along the foot board opening doors. He shouted
instructions to the inmates of the carriages, who promptly began
scrambling out of the uncomfortable cars. All baggage was placed along
the track to facilitate examination. The train itself was searched.
Gesticulating and conversing rapidly two soldiers approached the little
group of Boy Scouts. Apparently an argument of some sort was in progress,
but the boys could not determine the nature of it.
One of the men pointed to the uniforms and to the medals upon the sleeves
of the boys' jackets. Gradually his companion seemed to be convinced by
the flow of words. At length he nodded his head, as if surrendering his
last doubts. The two men fell to examining the luggage.
"Go as far as you like, Old Scout!" scorned Jimmie, as he observed the
rough manner in which his belongings were being tossed about. "I'll bet
I'd punch your dome a little, though, if you could talk English!"
"Ah, ha!" cried one of the soldiers, tapping his comrade on the shoulder,
as if his argument had been conclusively supported. "Anglaise!"
A torrent of words from the other seemed to meet a receptive ear. The
first speaker nodded energetically. His satisfaction was all too evident.
From his appearance he was expecting nothing short of a medal.
"Judging from their motions," Jimmie remarked, "these two fellows are
about to fight a duel. I'll bet on the shorter one!"
"Not much!" declared Harry. "They're merely telling one another what a
nice day it was yesterday and how fine the weather'll be when it clears
up. They are using the sign language, that's all!"
"Don't you kid yourself!" protested Jimmie, uneasily. "I smell Old Man
Trouble coming around the corner right now!"
"Go on, Jimmie!" scorned Jack. "You're dreaming again!"
"I know I am!" replied the younger lad. "Last night I dreamed of eating
salt mackerel and my dream book says that means trouble!"
"Here they come now!" cautioned Ned. "Hush a minute, boys!"
Addressing the boys in German the soldier was evidently asking some
question which demanded an answer. Ned as spokesman shook his head. The
other soldier spoke rapidly in the French language.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," Ned said, lifting a protesting hand, "we cannot
understand the language you are using. We speak only English!"
"Ah, ha! Anglaise!" cried the soldier, gesticulating.
"There, you put your foot in it!" declared Jimmie. "Why didn't you say:
'Come across with some good old United States, Bo'?"
"They probably don't understand your slang, Jimmie!" replied Ned.
"So-o-o," exclaimed one of the men in poor English, "you speak English,
do you? And from what part of England do you come?"
"We are not from England at all," explained Ned, "but from the United
States. We are being sent home by the kindness of a German officer, who
has been most considerate. See, here are our passports!"
"Bah!" scornfully protested the man. "Passports are most easily forged.
And information may be carried still more easily!"
"But I assure you," continued Ned, "we are speaking the truth!"
"So say all spies!" replied the other. "We shall see for ourselves just
what information you have in your possessions!"
"Go as far as you like," replied Ned, somewhat nettled at the soldier's
insolence. "You won't find a thing that shouldn't be there!"
One of the men was already bending over the bags containing such articles
as the boys had deemed necessary for their trip. Without regard for the
owners' rights he was rapidly taking out every piece separately. After
carefully examining it he threw the article on the ground. He was
evidently annoyed at not finding something incriminating.
Submitting to the search with poorly concealed dislike of the man and his
methods, the boys waited with what patience they could muster until the
ordeal should be ended. Ned endeavored to distract their thoughts by
commenting on the others, who were meeting similar treatment.
He was interrupted by an exclamation of delight from the searcher.
"Ah!" cried that worthy, standing upright. "Nothing contraband! Nothing
to be concealed! No information! These are not spies!"
He held in his hand a flat packet wrapped in heavy oiled silk, tied with
many wrappings of stout twine and sealed carefully with wax.
"Gather your possessions quickly and follow me!" commanded the soldier
triumphantly, drawing a revolver. "We shall visit the commander!"
"What is that thing and where did it come from?" questioned Ned.
"Search me!" declared Jimmie, excitedly. "Maybe this gink had it up his
little sleeve and dropped it in there at the right minute!"
"He looks equal to it!" stated Jack stoutly. "He's a villain!"
"Better be careful what you say!" cautioned Ned. "We are not out of the
woods, and these fellows understand English pretty well!"
"I wish I had my automatic and about ten yards start!" stormed Jimmie,
gathering up wearing apparel and jamming it into his kit. "I could beat
that slow-footed camel in a straightaway without half trying!"
"Better wait and see it out," advised Ned, replacing his own belongings.
"It's only a mistake and can surely be explained."
"Maybe we can be examined and go ahead on this same train," offered Jack
consolingly. "Anyhow, we won't gain anything by arguing with these
fellows. They have no sense of humor and don't want one!"
Following their two captors the lads trudged down the track toward the
hut. Carefully they picked their way between groups of genuine refugees
rearranging their meagre possessions in the coaches.
In a short time the boys were duly presented before a gray-haired officer
seated at a table placed against the wall of the hut. It was darker in
the room than out of doors. A single oil lamp served to dispel the
gathering gloom of the early twilight.
Reporting volubly in German, with many gesticulations, the soldier
presented the four boys. At the conclusion of his recital he laid the
parcel upon the table. Drawing himself to his full height and assuming a
tragic air he surveyed his captives with complacency.
"Look at that mark!" whispered Jimmie hoarsely. "What is it?"
"It says 'U-13' as plainly as the freckles on your nose," replied Harry,
who stood nearest the table. "I don't know what it means!"
A challenge from the sentry at the door drew the attention of those
within the hut. For a moment every eye turned toward the entrance.
Ever on the alert, Jimmie saw a hand thrust through the open window. It
seized the package and noiselessly disappeared.