The sharp hull of the three hundred foot destroyer cut through rather
than rode the waves. She was seaworthy enough, but in a cross sea like
this, she rolled and dipped tremendously, as well as bucking right
through the combers after the fashion of a pilot fish. One had to be
well seasoned to her habit to stand such a tumbling about as the
_Colodia_ gave her crew.
If George Belding felt any qualms, he was able to repress them. He was a
good sailor anyway, and having just come from a stiff cruise in the Bay
of Biscay in his father’s transformed yacht, he proved himself to be a
tolerable seaman.
Belding was a manly fellow without being as rough as many of the
sailors. Like the four Navy Boys, he was greatly interested by the view
they all acquired very soon of the floating débris that had first been
spied from the mast. The distance being so great, they could not
immediately be sure whether the wreck was that of a boat or an airship.
It was at first merely a blotch of darker color on the tumbling grey
sea.
“Looks more like a dead whale with a framework of scantling about it
than anything else,” Ensign MacMasters told the boys.
“It might be a whale at that,” commented Al Torrance eagerly. “They say
that many a whale has been killed by depth bombs.”
“Hi!” ejaculated Frenchy Donahue. “There’s a flag flying from a staff. I
can see it.”
“No dead whale would be likely to fly a flag,” Whistler said, smiling.
“Commander Lang had better have a care,” grumbled George Belding. “This
may be a trap, after all.”
The _Colodia_ steamed on at undiminished speed. The outlines of the
wreckage grew clearer despite the raging rainstorms that swept now and
then across the gray waves.
The vast hulk of a collapsed bag of silk cloth--it was never
canvas--could have belonged to nothing but one of the German airships.
“Half sunken Zep, sure as you are a foot high!” declared Al Torrance.
“No argument on that score,” admitted another of the boys. “Do you
suppose any of the poor chaps can be alive?”
“‘Poor chaps’ is good!” growled Al. “Like Willum, the coster, I don’t
believe in wasting sympathy on ‘the ’Un.’”
The dashing rain and spray almost blinded at times the _Colodia’s_ boys,
but they searched the remains of the wrecked dirigible keenly as the
destroyer drew nearer.
Now and then a great wave dashed completely over the twisted framework
and sprawling bag of silk cloth. And, yes! over several specks that were
apparently lashed to the wreckage. These specks were bodies of men,
whether dead or alive could not at first be decided with the wind
driving the spindrift head-on.
Commander Lang discussed the situation with his chief officers
amidships. How could they reach the wreck of the Zeppelin under such
weather conditions as these? Scarcely could a boat live in such a sea!
“I’ll order no boat’s crew out into such a mess as that,” said the
commander, with a gesture indicating the gray, leaping waves. “And I
hate to ask for volunteers when those people out there are what they
are. It is hardly possible for the boys to think of them as human
beings. They are set aside from us; they belong to another race--a race
that has shown neither mercy nor compassion.”
“It will have to be volunteers, if anybody,” said one of the other
officers. “But I’ve a wife and children. If I am ordered, I’ll go. But
no volunteering to get those Huns, for me!”
Among the crew the indications were that they felt about the same as the
officers. Said Hans Hertig:
“Who would volunteer to save them squareheads yet? Not me!”
“What would they do if they were in our place?” another of the seamen
asked. “They can watch women and babies drown! Why should we worry about
them?”
“Because we’re Americans, I suppose,” said Al Torrance gravely. “It’s
not done any more--not by real folks. Yankees to the rescue, old man!
Somebody’s got to go and pick those Heinies off like ripe blackberries
off the vine.”
But more than a few of the seamen shook their heads and said “Not me!”
Of course, volunteers had not yet been asked for, nor did anybody seem
to know just what course should be pursued in striving to rescue the
crew of the Zeppelin. Whistler Morgan and George Belding, standing well
forward, looked long and earnestly at the imperiled men on the wreck,
then they looked into each other’s faces.
“What do you think?” Belding asked, his lips making no sound that Phil
Morgan could hear, but his words easily read by Whistler.
“If the _Colodia_ shoots beyond the wreck?” asked Whistler, moving his
lips in the same way so that George could read what he said. “I could
drift down to it with the current.”
“In a boat?” asked Belding doubtfully.
“With life buoys,” Whistler explained.
Belding understood the scheme and nodded. Whistler said:
“I’ll speak to Mr. MacMasters.”
He went aft immediately to find the ensign. Finding Belding close at his
shoulder, Whistler said:
“You don’t need to get into this, George. What would your folks say?”
“Just about what yours will say if you chuck your life away for the sake
of a lot of Heinies,” returned Belding briefly. “You can’t do it alone.
It will take two of us to fasten each Heinie into the buoy so he can be
dragged back to the ship.”
“You’ve got the right idea,” agreed Phil, and turned to speak to Mr.
MacMasters.
“What do you two chaps want to do--throw your lives away for scum like
them?” was the ensign’s first comment upon Whistler’s proposal.
MacMasters had risen from the forecastle himself, having won his billet
by hard work. He was apt to look upon most things from the sailor’s
standpoint. The crew of the _Colodia_ had already seen enough of the
despicable work of the Hun to hate almost with the intensity of Willum
Johnson.
“They have to be saved, haven’t they?” Whistler asked quietly and
respectfully.
“But why should you do it?” rejoined MacMasters, who really loved the
lad and feared for his safety. “Those men over there are not worth it.”
“_We_ are worth it, sir,” put in George Belding with earnestness. “Phil
has the right idea, and I want to help him. One fellow can’t do it
alone, anyway.”
MacMasters threw up his hands in a helpless gesture. “Of course,” he
grumbled, “I’ll take your proposal to Commander Lang,” and strode away
toward the bridge.
Whistler’s suggestion was in line with what the chief officers had
already seen must be done. “If those lads demand the privilege, I will
not stop them,” said the Commander. “They are both smart and well set-up
boys. But I wish some of the older men had come before them. In a case
of this kind, it’s ‘first come, first served.’ Tell them to make ready,
Mr. MacMasters. And I adjure you to take care that they have proper
help.”
When Mr. MacMasters brought back the word Whistler Morgan and George
Belding at once prepared to put their idea into practice. But the
_Colodia_ had yet to steam past the mass of wreckage that had been the
Zeppelin. There were nine men lashed to the half sunken framework.
Feeble gestures from some of the figures showed they were alive.
As the destroyer drew so near and the sorry state of the Germans was
made apparent, the Americans grew silent. There were no more curses for
the Huns. The most bitter suddenly thought of the castaways in different
mood. Those were dying men lashed there to the sorry wreck of the
Zeppelin.
Word swiftly passed all over the ship that Morgan and Belding were about
to make an attempt to rescue those of the castaways who were still
alive. Al Torrance came raving to his chum and wanted to know what it
meant--why he was left out of it? If Whistler Morgan was going to risk
his “fool neck to rescue a parcel of Huns, (so he put it) why couldn’t
he be in it?”
“You can, old man,” said the wise Whistler. “You are just the fellow I
want to hang on to the life buoy line and pay out for me. My life will
be in your hands. Catch hold here!”
Al grumbled some, but did as he was bid. Cold as it was, the two boys
making the attempt to reach the wrecked Zeppelin stripped to their
underclothes. The _Colodia_ had passed the wreck, and now swerved so
that the current would carry the two venturesome lads straight down upon
the wreck.
The two buoys were flung overboard, and Morgan and Belding slipped down
the ropes and plunged into the sea. The first shock of it was
tremendous. It seemed as though the water would freeze the blood in
their veins and the marrow in their bones.
But they cheered each other, each diving and coming up within the ring
of the buoyant life buoy assigned him. Al and others payed out carefully
but swiftly. All realized how icy the waters were. This rescue--if it
was to be successful--must be made in quick time.
The two rescuers whirled down upon the wreck. The framework was raised
high upon first one wave and then another. There was danger of its
parting and carrying away the men lashed to it. Phil Morgan and Belding
knew that they had to do their work swiftly if they would accomplish the
task they had set out upon.