PRISONERS ON BOARD OF A SUBMARINE
The captain was still on deck, together with the first officer, both of
them being at that time on the upper side of the vessel. They made the
most careful examination of the staterooms and searched every corner to
be sure that no one lingered behind. Coming forward they witnessed the
struggles of the boys with the cripple and the girl, but the ship was
now too far over on its side to permit them to render assistance.
The cripple was soon brought to the door, and, without ceremony, pushed
down the incline. The little girl followed, but before the boys could
reach the railing the poor cripple slipped over the railing and
disappeared. The boys held the child aloft for a moment, and then
dropped her into the waves.
"Jump as far as you can!" shouted the captain.
Ralph placed a foot on the railing, and, looking back at Alfred, said:
"Here goes! Come on!"
Both boys landed at almost the same time. The little girl was aroused by
the cold water, and was wildly floundering about, but the cripple lay
upon the surface of the water, with face upturned, limp and still. They
glanced about; where were the boats? They could not be far away.
"I am afraid he's done for," said Alfred, as he glanced toward the
cripple.
"Well, we might as well stay near him; he might be all right," replied
Ralph.
"Move away from the ship quickly," said a voice in the water, not far
away.
It was the captain. He was the last one to dive, after he had seen every
passenger safely off the ship.
"We have no time to lose; take care of yourselves; I will help the
little girl," he continued, as he threw the child on his back, and began
to strike out.
The sea had been calm up to this time, but no sooner had the captain
ceased speaking than a tremendous wave almost engulfed them; they seemed
to be carried up, and then were forced down by a giant swell. Another
wave followed and then another, until, finally, the oscillations of the
waves seemed to be growing less and less.
"Where is the ship?" cried Alfred.
"She's gone down; that's what made the waves," said the captain.
The cripple's hand was raised up, and his eyes began to roll.
"This fellow's all right, after all," said Ralph. "I'll help him. I
wonder where the boats are?"
The sun, which was going down while all this had been taking place, had
now disappeared, and there was that gray, lead-like appearance on the
waves that comes just before twilight.
"Keep up your courage, boys; we shall soon have plenty of boats looking
for us," said the captain.
Within less than a minute thereafter two boats could be seen bobbing up
and down not far away, heading straight for those in the water. Ralph
was the first one caught by the strong arm of a seaman, and then the
little girl, now fully recovered from her fright, received the care of a
woman in the boat.
Alfred assisted the cripple into the other boat, and the captain ordered
all the passengers transferred to the boat which had just come up.
The boys then noticed that only three seamen remained, together with the
captain and first officer.
"You may remain with us," said the captain, addressing Ralph and Alfred.
This was, indeed, a compliment to them, which was appreciated.
"I know father, mother and auntie are all right," said Alfred. "Do you
think they saw us get off?" he added anxiously.
"They were standing by when you jumped, but when the ship made the last
lurch, just before she went down the seamen knew that they must pull
away to avoid being sucked under. It might have been too dark for them
actually to have seen you get away, at the distance they were from the
ship, but I don't think they will expect to see us before morning."
"Why, do you intend to stay here all night?" asked Ralph.
"No, but each boat crew has had instructions to make for the nearest
port, as rapidly as possible," replied the captain.
"Where are we now?" asked Alfred.
"In the Bay of Biscay, about one hundred and fifty miles from the
nearest land," answered the captain.
"How long will it take us to reach land?" asked Ralph.
"Possibly two days, or more; that depends on the weather and the
conditions in the bay. This is the most turbulent body of water anywhere
on the Atlantic coast line, but it has been remarkably smooth during the
past twenty-four hours," answered the captain.
"What is the name of the place that we are heading for?" asked Ralph.
"St. Nazaire; a French town at the mouth of the river Loire," was the
reply.
It was now quite dark, and a haze prevented the occupants of the boat
from making any observation of the stars, hence the sailing, or rather,
the rowing, had to be conducted by compass entirely, the order being
given by the captain to steer east by north, a term which indicates that
the course was exactly two points north of a line running due east and
west.
Three miles an hour at the outside, would be considered good speed.
Sails would have been useless without a wind, and there was not the
slightest breeze, but about midnight there was an apparent rocking in
the little boat that indicated a wind. Occasionally, there would be a
jerk, as the boat would be thrown from one side to the other. The
captain was awake and alert, but the boys were lying in the bottom of
the vessel near the stern.
It was a trying, weary night, and when the sun arose the sea was one
panorama of short, choppy waves. The seamen were tired with rowing, and
it was evident that no great effort was being made to hurry the boat
along.
"It does seem to me that the sun is coming up on the wrong side this
morning," remarked Alfred, as they were partaking of the food prepared
and stowed in the boat's lockers.
"I imagine you are turned around somewhat," replied the captain. "The
wind is now coming from the east, and you see the sun almost ahead of
us. We are being carried west faster than the rowers can take us
eastward, hence we are practically standing still, or rather going back,
and they are now merely holding the boat so as to give us steerage way
and prevent us from going into the troughs between the waves."
"Have you sighted either of the other boats?" asked Alfred.
"No; but one of the men observed a light at two this morning, three
points to starboard, which was, possibly, one of our companions, but
since that time we have searched the seas fruitlessly," answered the
captain.
"I don't know why it is that if all of the boats steer to the same point
that they should be scattered in this way," said Alfred. "Can you
explain it, Captain?"
"It would not be so if in the open sea, or in mid-ocean; there they
would be likely to keep together, or not separated more than three or
four miles; but it is quite another thing in this great bay," replied
the captain.
"Why should it be different here?" asked Ralph.
"If you will take a map of the western part of Europe, you will notice
three great projecting headlands, or points on the western shore of the
continent of Europe, namely, Iceland, in the north, and the Spanish
peninsula in the south. Midway between you will notice Ireland and the
British Isles. The great Gulf stream comes down from the north, passes
Iceland, that is one branch, hugs the coast of Ireland, and strikes the
point of land which projects out northwesterly from the main Spanish
land, so that a sort of maelstrom is set up in the bay."
"How far are we from that point of land?" asked Ralph.
"About two hundred miles northeast; and I may also say that we are just
about in the middle of the Bay of Biscay, and at that point where the
sea is always more quiet than at any other part," answered the captain.
[Illustration]
"Ship to starboard, sir," sang out the forward watch.
The captain turned to the right and, after a brief glance, lowered his
hand. The boys looked at him in wonder. Evidently the sight of the
vessel did not give him pleasure. It was a low-lying craft, with two
short masts.
"That looks like a submarine," shouted Ralph.
"You are right," replied the captain.
The submarine was coming forward rapidly, and within fifteen minutes it
was within hailing distance. They now had an opportunity to examine the
ugly thing with the long black back and the conning tower midway between
the ends.
"Are those the periscopes?" asked Alfred. "I didn't know they carried
two of them."
"That is the practice now," said one seamen.
The submarine came straight toward them, then sheered off and stopped
alongside less than thirty feet from the boat. One of the seamen tossed
a rope, which was grasped by a marine on the undersea boat, and in that
manner they were drawn close up to the side of the submarine.
An officer now came forward, and in French invited the captain to step
aboard. There was a broad smile on the officer's face, as he recognized
the captain of the vessel which they had torpedoed the night before.
With a respectful bow he requested the captain to turn over the ship's
papers. The captain was, of course, powerless, but he refused to do so
on the plea that he did not have them with him.
"Search the boat!" commanded the officer to several of his crew.
The captain was about to go back to his boat when the officer remarked:
"We prefer the pleasure of your company for the present, sir."
The captain folded his arms, and stood straight before the officer, as
two marines jumped into the boat, and began the search. Eventually, a
leather case was found, on which was inscribed the ship's name. It was
tossed up to the officer, who, after receiving it, entered the conning
tower, where he remained for some time.
When he reappeared he said: "I shall have to detain you," and, glancing
down into the boat, continued: "The two young men in the stern will also
come aboard."
The boys were astounded at this new turn of affairs. Slowly they arose,
and stepped on the narrow platform which projected out from the side of
the submarine.
"There may be some reason why you should wish to detain me, but there is
no excuse for making these young men prisoners; they are Americans
returning home, and cannot be considered as belligerents," said the
captain.
The lieutenant looked at the captain and turned his gaze on the boys a
few moments before replying: "In what business were they engaged while
on the continent?"
The captain started slightly, while the officer toyed with his mustache,
and peered at the boys.
"We haven't engaged in any particular business on the continent," said
Ralph.
"No; flying isn't engaging in any business, is it?" inquired the
officer.
"Well," said Alfred, "we took part in the Red Cross service, were with
the infantry, served a time with the flying corps, then had a little
experience with the transportation service, helped them out in the
artillery, and did the best we could everywhere we went, if that's what
you wish to know."
The officer gave the boys a cynical glance, and nodded to one of the
marines. The latter stepped forward and began searching the boys, Ralph
being the first to undergo the ordeal; several letters, a few trinkets,
a knife and a purse, containing all the boy possessed, were removed. The
coat when thrown back revealed a cross, suspended by a ribbon, the
decoration which had been bestowed on the boys after their last flight
at Verdun.
Alfred handed over the contents of his pockets. The German officer
glanced at the medals, and made another motion. The seamen then pushed
them into the conning tower and the boys saw a narrow flight of stairs
to which they were directed, the captain following.
Down into the bowels of a submarine! A warm, peculiar, oily odor greeted
them as they descended, but the air was not at all unpleasant and
breathing was easy. Glancing about they saw confused masses of
mechanism, tanks, pipes, valves, levers, wheels, clock-faced dial plates
and other contrivances, all huddled together, with barely room to pass
from one place to another. Electric bulbs were everywhere visible,
lighting up the interior.
Suddenly there was a slight tremor in the vessel, indicating that some
machinery was in motion. Once at the bottom they stood there until the
seaman stepped forward and opened a small door through which there was
barely room to pass, and he motioned them to enter. They did so, and
found themselves in a compartment which did not seem to be more than
five by six feet in size, and even in this small space mechanism was
noticed. The moment the door closed they were in total darkness.
"This is a nice place to get into," said Ralph.
"I wonder if they are going to keep us cooped up like this without a
light?" said Alfred.
After an interval of ten minutes a rumbling was heard, which continued,
a rhythmic motion followed in unison with the sounds generated by the
machinery.
"That is the propeller," said the captain.
Voices were heard occasionally, but words could not be distinguished.
Confined as they were the air seemed to be pure and in abundance at all
times, and while there was not the faintest signs of closeness, there
was an eternal monotony,--an existence in which there was nothing to do
but breathe and think.
How long they were thus confined, without a single thing to break the
stillness, they could not conceive. It seemed that hours had gone by,
during which time there was nothing to disturb them, except the one
steady whirr, broken occasionally by some remark by one or the other.
Then came an unexpected hum of voices; the machinery seemed to stop for
a moment, and when it was again continued it had a different melody. The
wheels, if such they were, seemed to turn with smoothness, and they felt
a sudden inclination in the seats on which they were sitting.
"What do you suppose has happened?" asked Ralph.
"The electric mechanism has been hitched to the propeller, and, if I am
not mistaken, we are going down," said the captain.
"It did feel as though the forward end dipped down a moment ago," said
Alfred.
Another wait for a half-hour, and then a most peculiar sound reached
their ears. Simultaneously, the ship seemed to stop and go on. Again
voices were heard, and the same reaction in the hull of the submarine
was felt, accompanied by the dull noise, as before.
"They have just fired two torpedoes," said the captain.