SUSPICIONS
For a moment there was more terror and excitement aboard the _Jeanne_,
if it were possible, after it became certain that another craft, the
nature of which none knew, was headed toward the French steamer. Then an
officer gifted with sound common-sense, cried out in English, so that
the majority could understand:
"It is a destroyer! It is a destroyer belonging to the Stars and Stripes
coming to our rescue. Three cheers!"
Nobody gave the three cheers, but it heartened every one to hear them
called for, and the real meaning of the smoke was borne to all.
"Of course it can't be a submarine!" exclaimed Blake. "They don't send
out any smoke, and there aren't any other German boats at sea. It's a
destroyer!"
"One of ours, do you think?" asked Charlie.
"Perhaps. Uncle Sam has a lot of 'em over here to act as convoys.
Probably this is our escort coming up a little late to the ball," said
Joe.
"But we did very well by ourselves," observed Blake. "It was a narrow
squeak, though."
And indeed it was a narrow escape. The _Jeanne_ had, unaided, driven off
the undersea boat, and perhaps had damaged her by the rain of shot and
shell poured at her steel sides. They could not feel sure of this,
though, for the approach of the destroyer was probably known to the
submarine, for they have underwater telephones which tell them, by means
of the throbbing of the screws and propellers in the water, just about
how far away another ship is, and what speed she is making, as well as
the direction from which she is coming.
Whether the submarine had expended her last torpedo, or whether having
missed what she intended for a vital shot she deemed there was not time
to launch another and had sunk out of sight, or whether she were
disabled, were questions perhaps never to be answered.
At any rate, the approach of the destroyer, which came on with amazing
speed, served to make the _Jeanne_ comparatively safe. The lifeboats
were emptied of their passengers, and once more there was a feeling of
comparative safety as the passengers again thronged the decks.
On came the destroyer. She proved to be one of Uncle Sam's boats, and
the joy with which she was greeted was vociferous and perhaps a little
hysterical. She had learned by wireless of the appearance of the French
craft in the danger zone, and had come to fulfill her mission. She had
been delayed by a slight accident, or she would have been on hand when
the submarine first approached.
The wireless message that had come just as the German craft appeared had
been from the destroyer, to bid those aboard the _Jeanne_ have no fear,
for help was on the way. And soon after the grim and swift craft from
the United States had begun to slide along beside the _Jeanne_ two more
destroyers, one of them British, made their appearance, coming up with
the speed of ocean greyhounds.
There was great rejoicing among the passengers, and much credit was
given the lookout for his promptness in reporting a sight of the
submarine. Formal thanks were extended to the gun crews for their
efficient work, without which the undersea boat might have accomplished
her purpose. Nor were the boiler room and engineer forces forgotten, for
it was because of the sudden burst of speed on the part of the _Jeanne_
that she escaped that one torpedo at least.
"Now we'll be all right," Charlie said, as he helped his friends make a
few pictures of the approach and the convoying of the destroyers to add
to the views they had of the submarine and her defeat--temporary defeat
it might prove, but, none the less, a defeat.
"Well, hardly all right," remarked Blake, as the camera was dismounted.
"We're still in the danger zone, and the Huns won't let slip any chance
to do us harm. But I guess we have more of a chance for our white alley
than we had before."
Though the French ship was now protected by the three convoying vessels,
the crews of which kept a sharp watch on all sides for the presence of
more submarines, there was still plenty of danger, and this was felt by
all.
At any moment a submarine, approaching below the surface with only her
periscope showing--and this made a mark exceedingly hard to see and
hit--might launch a torpedo, not only at the merchant-man but at one of
the destroyers.
"It's like sleeping over a case of dynamite," observed Joe, as he and
his chums went below. "I'd rather be on the war front. You can at least
see and hear shells coming."
"That's right," agreed Blake. "Well, if nothing happens, we'll soon be
there now."
"_If_ is a big word these days," observed Charlie.
"Now that we're comparatively safe for the moment, I want to ask you
fellows something," said Blake, after a pause.
"Ask ahead," returned Joe. "If you want to know whether I was scared,
I'll say I was, but I was too busy getting pictures to notice it. If it
is something else----"
"It is," interrupted Blake, and his manner was grave. "Come below and
I'll tell you. I don't want any one else to hear."
Wondering somewhat at their friend's manner, Joe and Charlie went to
their stateroom, and there Blake closed the door and took the dark cloth
down from the mirror. A look into it showed that the transom of the room
opposite--the cabin of Levi Labenstein--had been closed.
"So we can't tell whether he's in there or not," said Blake.
"Did you want to talk about him?" asked Joe.
"Yes, him and the lieutenant. Did you fellows happen to notice what they
were doing when the submarine was attacking us?"
"Not especially," answered Joe. "I did see Lieutenant Secor looking at
us as we worked the camera, but I didn't pay much attention to him."
"It wasn't him so much as it was the German," went on Blake.
"In what way?"
"Did you see where he was standing when the submarine came out of the
water?"
Neither Joe nor Charlie had done so, or, if they had, they did not
recall the matter when Blake questioned them. So that young man resumed:
"Well, I'll tell you what I saw: Labenstein was leaning over the rail on
the side where the submarine showed, and he was holding a big white
cloth over the side."
"A big white cloth?" cried Joe.
"That's what it was," went on Blake. "It looked to me like a signal."
"Do you mean a signal of surrender?" asked Charlie. "A white flag? He
wouldn't have any right to display that, anyhow. It would have to come
from Captain Merceau."
"Maybe he meant that he'd surrender personally," suggested Joe, "and
didn't want his fellow-murderers to hurt him."
"I don't know what his object was," went on Blake, "but I saw him take
from his pocket a big white cloth and hold it over the side. It could
easily have been seen from the submarine, and must have been, for he
displayed it just before the underwater boat came up."
"A white cloth," mused Joe. "From his pocket. Was it his handkerchief,
Blake?"
"He wouldn't have one as large as that, even if he suffered from hay
fever. I think it was a signal."
"A signal for what?" Charlie again asked.
"To tell the submarine some piece of news, of course--perhaps the port
of sailing, something of the nature of our cargo, or perhaps to tell
just where to send the torpedo. I understand we are carrying some
munitions, and it may be that this German spy directed the commander of
the submarine where to aim the torpedo so as to explode them."
"But he'd be signaling for his own death warrant!" cried Joe.
"Not necessarily," answered Blake. "He may have had some understanding
with the submarine that he was to be saved first. Perhaps he was going
to jump overboard before the torpedo was fired and was to be picked up.
Anyhow, I saw him draping a white cloth over the side, and I'm sure it
was a signal."
"Well, I guess you're right," said Joe. "The next question is, what's to
be done? This fellow is a spy and a traitor, and we ought to expose
him."
"Yes," agreed Blake. "But we'd better have a little more evidence than
just my word. You fellows didn't see what I saw, that's plain, and
perhaps no one else did. So it would only make a big fuss and not result
in anything if I told the captain."
"Then what are you going to do?" asked Charlie.
"Just keep watch," Blake answered.
"What about Lieutenant Secor?" asked Joe.
"Well, I didn't see him do anything," admitted Blake. "Though I have my
suspicions of him also. He and Labenstein weren't talking so earnestly
together for nothing. We'll watch that Frenchman, too."
"And if he tries any more games in spoiling films I'll have my say!"
threatened Macaroni.
The boys talked the situation over at some length as they put away the
films they had taken of the submarine attack, and agreed that "watchful
waiting" was the best policy to adopt. As Blake had said, little could
be gained by denouncing Labenstein with only the word of one witness to
rely on.
"If all three of us catch him at his traitorous work, then we'll
denounce him," suggested Blake.
"Yes, and the Frenchman, too!" added Charlie, in a louder voice, so that
Blake raised a cautioning hand.
At that moment came a knock on their door, and a voice said:
"I am Mr. Labenstein!"