George Belding was for running right off to the radio chief, Mr. Sparks,
to ask another chance to listen in on the wireless for further messages
from the _Redbird_. The supposition that Germans in her crew had
mutinied and seized his father’s ship became at once a certainty in
George’s mind.
Whistler, however, with his usual cautiousness, steadied his friend.
“There is no use making such an application now, George,” he said.
“There will be none of this ‘ghost-talk’ in the air at this hour.”
“Oh!”
“You know, they only hear those messages in the afternoon watch. That is
the only time, in all probability, that your sister can get to the
radio. The rest of the time, perhaps, the regular radio man is on duty,
and he is probably in league with the mutineers.”
“My goodness, Phil!” ejaculated Belding, “that word ‘mutineers’ makes me
tremble.”
“It suggests the rough stuff, all right,” agreed the Seacove lad. “I
hope my sisters and your folks will not be treated too outrageously by
the gang that has got possession of your father’s ship.”
“If we could only find them! We’re tied here on this old iron pot--”
“Hold on! Don’t malign the _Colodia_. We may be glad for their sakes
that we are on this destroyer.”
“I don’t see it. I wish I was on the _Redbird_.”
“A fat chance! With those Germans committing acts of barratry like
painting out the _Redbird’s_ name! That shows they are desperate men.
And what could we do to them if we were in their power?”
“What help can we give the folks from this distance?” groaned Belding.
“This is a matter that will have to be brought to the attention of the
Old Man, George. I am going to speak to Mr. MacMasters and ask him to
get us a chance to interview Commander Lang.”
“Will he listen to us, do you think?”
“Of course he will,” said Whistler with confidence.
The two friends could scarcely sleep in their watch below, and in the
morning their anxiety was apparent to the other boys.
Whistler watched for his chance and spoke to Ensign MacMasters. The
ensign would do anything within reason for Whistler and his friends. He
considered the four Seacove lads about the finest boys aboard the
_Colodia_.
Upon hearing the story of the mystery message he became vastly
interested. He went to see Sparks first of all, and then hurried to
Commander Lang’s cabin. One reason why Mr. MacMasters was so eager to
see the commander was because Sparks had told him that during the
previous evening an operator at the Weather Bureau station at Arlington,
Virginia, had asked the _Colodia’s_ chief radio man:
“Have you caught message being put out for _Colodia_?”
While a radio man on the troopship _Kinkadia_ demanded:
“Anybody named Belding on _Colodia_? He appears to be wanted by a ham.”
Which was not a very respectful way of referring to George’s sister. It
showed, however, that Lilian’s uncertain sending was attracting
attention at several points.
It was mid-forenoon before the two friends were called into the presence
of Commander Lang. Belding was bashful and allowed Whistler to do most
of the talking. And he was impressed by the ease and coolness with which
his friend went about the matter.
Commander Lang met Phil Morgan as he would have met another man. There
was nothing “kiddish about Whistler,” Al had once said. The commander of
the _Colodia_ examined the messages as the boys believed they were
intended to read. He at once approved the application of George Belding
to be attached to the radio squad until further notice. He sent for
Sparks and heard his story of the mystery message. In every way he
showed an acute interest in the affair.
If the _Redbird_ was somewhere at sea in charge of mutineers--Germans at
that!--to find her would be a task for the _Colodia_. But as Whistler
had immediately seen, it was agreed that to discover the course of the
_Redbird_ and her daily position by the sun were the most important
points.
The boys were most impatient for the time to come when George would take
his “trick” at the radio instrument again. This would not be until the
afternoon watch, when the radio man then on duty had orders to give the
instrument over to George if the “ghost-talk” again was heard.
It had been decided that George should try to reply to the mysterious
call. By spelling out the name of his father’s ship, the _Redbird_, or
calling Lilian Belding by name, it might be possible to communicate with
the vessel and send a word of courage to the passengers. The desire was
to encourage the sender of the strange message to repeat again and again
the _Redbird’s_ situation.
It was only possible to guess at the course of the ship bound for Bahia,
as well as her present position. Lilian Belding had doubtless called for
the _Colodia_ because her brother and Whistler Morgan served on that
naval vessel, not because she had any idea as to where the destroyer
was.
The two vessels might be a desperately long distance apart. That fact
could not be overlooked. The boys were in a fever of expectation.
As it drew near eight bells of the forenoon watch there came a message
by wireless that was even more exciting for most of the crew than the
mystery of the “ghost-talk.”
“An S O S!” whispered the messenger to George Belding as he darted from
the radio station to the bridge.
Swiftly the watch officer read the message: “H. M. S. S. _Ferret_, from
Porto Rico for Liverpool, attacked by German cruiser _Sea Pigeon_, lat.
twenty-one, long. fifty-eight. S O S.”
The exciting information was instantly communicated two ways--to the
commander’s cabin and to the chief engineer. The _Colodia_ leaped
forward, conned on her new course at once. They were off in another race
to overtake the elusive German raider--and this time, perhaps, to find
her.
“But we may be going right away from the _Redbird_!” Belding complained
to the other boys.
“On the other hand, we don’t know but it may be taking us right toward
your father’s vessel,” Whistler said, trying to comfort his friend.
He felt worried himself about it. There would be no chance to try to
reach the _Redbird_ by radio during the afternoon watch. Whistler was
just as anxious as Belding; only he kept these feelings much more to
himself.
The radio sparked message after message to and from the British ship.
The _Colodia_ was the only naval craft within possible reach of the spot
from which the call came, although there were both British cruisers and
torpedo boats on the Bermuda and Bahama stations.
But they were heavy craft, and it would have taken days for a boat from
either station to reach the point indicated by the _Ferret_. Whereas,
with good fortune, the American destroyer’s engines would drive her to
the spot in three hours.
Could the British merchant vessel keep up the unequal fight for that
length of time? The German must have already engaged her, or the radio
message from the _Ferret_ as first transmitted would not have been so
exact.
From out of the air came messages from all directions urging the
_Colodia_ on. The _Ferret’s_ S O S and the destroyer’s answer had been
picked up by both ship and land stations. Ships long out of range, it
would seem, became interested in the attempt to “get” the raider which
had already cut such a swath among shipping in the Atlantic.
Remembering the fate of the _Susanne_, the crew of the _Colodia_ had
some reason for believing that this dash of the good destroyer was a
“long shot.” It seemed scarcely possible that she would arrive at the
scene of the fight in time to save the merchant ship from complete
disaster.
Yet the radio messages were encouraging. After an hour the _Ferret_
reported no serious damage done and that they had put two shells aboard
their pursuer from their well-manned deck guns.
“Well done, _Ferret_!” flashed the destroyer’s radio. “Keep up the good
work.”
Yet every moment it was expected aboard the _Colodia_ that either the
wireless on the steamship would be destroyed, or she would report
serious injury to her machinery. The raider would, of course, strive to
place her shells where they would utterly cripple her victim--either
under the stern and smash the propellers, or amidships and burst boilers
or wreck engines.
The _Colodia’s_ crew were ordered to stations, more for the sake of
keeping order on deck than for aught else. Every man who could be spared
from below was ranged along the decks. Gun covers were removed, breech
blocks looked to, and every man was keyed to a high pitch.
“Talk about efficiency!” growled Ensign MacMasters. “We’ve _got_ it.
Just because the Germans have been abusing the word is no reason why we
should not properly use it. They are often efficient to a useless end;
but we’ll show that sea-raider, if we get a chance, that the old
_Colodia_ is more efficient than a German ever dared be!”
The destroyer plowed on and on, while every minute that elapsed without
their hearing that the _Ferret_ was wrecked encouraged hope. Now and
again word came that the British ship, with dogged persistency, was
holding out. She had been hit now several times, and the _Sea Pigeon_
was reported as being almost on top of her. Still she was providentially
saved from disaster.
Through the heat of a tropical noontide the destroyer rushed on toward
the fight. The crew looked for no shelter now, they only desired to see
the smoke of the guns ahead.
And before six bells of the afternoon watch they had the desire of their
eyes! The lookouts began to yell the glad tidings to the bridge, and the
crew took up the news with a mighty shout.
The wind was against their hearing the guns at first, but finally the
thundering roll of the weapons reached the ears of the Americans. The
_Colodia_ seemed to increase her speed. The smoke rolled back from her
stacks and lay flat along the sea as though painted there with one
stroke of a giant brush.
Within a few minutes they could see balloons of smoke billowing up
ahead, but these were from no ship afire. They were the announcement of
gun discharges.
On the destroyer tore through the quiet sea. The lookouts hailed for the
upperworks of the _Ferret_. Another message came by radio that the
attacked steamship had seen and hailed with delight her rescuer.
The explosion of the guns ahead brought joy to the hearts of the
_Colodia’s_ crew. There was the prospect of a real fight! The smoke of
the raider was announced. The destroyer’s course was swerved ever so
slightly that she might pass the battered _Ferret_ and draw the fire of
the German from the merchant ship.
Then the order was given, and her own guns began to speak. It was at
long range, but the marksmanship of American gun crews had become really
wonderful. The high, shrieking shells sought out the German ship, and
within the first dozen sent over, the radio man on the _Ferret_ reported
a “strike.” One of the _Sea Pigeon’s_ smokestacks was carried away!
The fight was on. The Americans hoped to get near enough to the German
boat to bring her to terms within a very short time.