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NAVY BOYS BEHIND THE BIG GUNS
Or
Sinking the German U-Boats
by
HALSEY DAVIDSON
Author of
"Navy Boys after the Submarines," "Navy Boys
Chasing a Sea Raider," Etc.
Illustrated
New York
George Sully & Company
Publishers
[Illustration: The gunners were literally "stripped for action," their
glistening supple bodies alert as panthers.]
* * * * *
BOOKS FOR BOYS
NAVY BOYS SERIES
BY HALSEY DAVIDSON
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated
NAVY BOYS AFTER THE SUBMARINES
Or Protecting the Giant Convoy
NAVY BOYS CHASING A SEA RAIDER
Or Landing a Million Dollar Prize
NAVY BOYS BEHIND THE BIG GUNS
Or Sinking the German U-Boats
NAVY BOYS TO THE RESCUE
Or Answering the Wireless Call for Help
NAVY BOYS AT THE BIG SURRENDER
Or Rounding Up the German Fleet
THE NAVY BOYS ON SPECIAL SERVICE
Or Guarding the Floating Treasury
GEORGE SULLY & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY
GEORGE SULLY & COMPANY
_Navy Boys Chasing a Sea Raider_
PRINTED IN U.S.A.
* * * * *
NAVY BOYS BEHIND THE BIG GUNS
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I A RUN TO ELMVALE 1
II THE STRANGER 11
III THE WATER WHEEL 19
IV S. P. 888 27
V THE STREAK ON THE WATER 38
VI AN OLD FRIEND 44
VII FOG HAUNTED 54
VIII PUZZLED 64
IX JUST TOO LATE 74
X AHEAD OF THE FLOOD 81
XI UNEXPECTED PERIL 90
XII COURAGE 100
XIII THE KENNEBUNK SAILS 106
XIV AN UNEXPECTED TARGET 115
XV THE BIG GUN SPEAKS 127
XVI AN ACCIDENT 135
XVII BLOWN UP 144
XVIII MORE TROUBLE 155
XIX COINCIDENCE 162
XX THE WITCH'S WARNING 173
XXI THE EXPLANATION 180
XXII THE RACE 190
XXIII UNDER SPECIAL ORDERS 196
XXIV TICK-TOCK! TICK-TOCK! 204
XXV IN THE THICK OF THE FIGHT 211
NAVY BOYS BEHIND THE
BIG GUNS
CHAPTER I
A RUN TO ELMVALE
When Philip Morgan announced his approach by an unusually cheerful
strain, Al Torrance was already behind the steering wheel of his
father's car, with the engine purring smoothly.
"'Lo, Whistler," Al said. "Thought you had forgotten where we planned to
go this morning. What made you so late?"
"'Lo, Torry. Never hit the hay till after one. Just talking. My jaws
ache," Morgan broke off his whistling long enough to say.
"Sure it isn't whistling that's made your jaws ache?" queried his chum
slyly. "Not having had much chance to pipe up while we were aboard ship,
I guess you are making up for lost time."
"Talking, I tell you," returned Morgan. "Thought the girls never would
let me stop. And father, too. Mother won't own up she's reconciled to my
being in the Navy," and Whistler grinned suddenly. "But she listened to
all I told them, too. She was just as eager to hear about it as Phoebe
and Alice."
"Guess you made yourself out to be some tough garby," chuckled Torrance,
using the term the seamen themselves employ to designate a sailor.
"Oh, I gave 'em an earful," Whistler agreed, and puckered his lips
again.
"Come on and get in," ordered Torry impatiently. "Pa's got to use the
car this afternoon. But he says we can have it to run over to Elmvale
in, if we want."
"Where are Frenchy and Ikey?" Whistler broke off in his tune again to
ask.
"Going to wait for us down on High Street--and Seven Knott, too."
"Did Hansie say he'd go?" cried the other sailor boy. "Bet he's sore as
he can be because he's not with the _Colodia_ and Lieutenant Lang."
"He'd never 've taken this furlough, he says, if his mother hadn't
begged so hard. Did you ever see a garby so stuck on a gold stripe as
Seven Knott is on Lieutenant Commander Lang?" said Torry, rather
scornfully.
"I don't know. Mr. Lang has been a good friend to Hans Hertig. This is
his second hitch under Mr. Lang," Whistler said.
"Wonder if we'll enlist a second time, too, Whistler."
"Bet you!" was the succinct reply.
The car started under Torry's careful guidance, and they quickly whisked
around the corner into the main street of Seacove, the small port in
which the chums had been born and had lived all their lives until they
had enlisted as seamen apprentices in the Navy not many months before.
They passed the little cottage in which Mrs. Hertig, Seven Knott's
mother, lived. Beyond that was the Donahue home, where Frenchy's widowed
mother lived with his younger brothers and sisters.
Then came the Rosenmeyer delicatessen shop, and there the car was pulled
down by Torry, for there was a little group outside the shop, the center
of which were three figures in blue.
"Look at those happy Jacks, will you?" ejaculated Torry in feigned
disgust. "Got an audience, haven't they? And even Seven Knott must be
talking some, too. What do you know about that?"
For the attitude of Seacove had changed mightily since these boys had
joined the Navy early in 1917. War had been declared between the United
States and Germany and her allies, the drafted men were being called to
the training camps, and some had already gone "over there" and were
fighting in the trenches of northern France.
Philip Morgan, Alfred Torrance, Michael Donahue, Ikey Rosenmeyer, and
their mates on the destroyer _Colodia_ had already aided in convoying a
large number of troop ships across the Atlantic, had chased submarines
and destroyed at least one of the enemy U-boats, and had hunted for and
captured the German raider, _Graf von Posen_, which had among the other
loot in her hold the treasure of the Borgias which had been purchased
from an Italian nobleman by the four Navy boys' very good friend, Mr.
Alonzo Minnette.
The four friends, Morgan, Torrance, Donahue, and Ikey Rosenmeyer, the
son of the proprietor of the village delicatessen store, had been given
a furlough since landing at Norfolk with the captured raider, of the
prize crew of which they had been members. Coming north to Seacove
by train, they had met their shipmate, Hans Hertig, known aboard the
_Colodia_ as Seven Knott, who had likewise been given a furlough after
leaving the naval hospital where he had been convalescing from a wound.
The _Colodia_ was still at sea--or across the Atlantic--or somewhere.
The young seamen who belonged to her crew did not know where. They
awaited her return to port in order to rejoin her.
They had another iron in the fire, too; but that they did not talk about
much, even among themselves. Mr. Minnette, who was their very good
friend, and who worked now in a War Department office at Washington in a
lay capacity, had told them he would try his best to get them aboard a
new superdreadnaught that was just out of the yard and was being fitted
for her maiden cruise.
A number of Naval Reserves would be put aboard this new huge ship; and
the Seacove boys, with their experience in the training school at
Saugarack and aboard the _Colodia_, surely would be of some use as
temporary members of the dreadnaught's crew.
The boys had written Mr. Minnette about Seven Knott, for he was eager to
get back into harness, too. And Seven Knott had held the rank of
boatswain's mate aboard the _Colodia_.
Naturally the friends were all eager to get behind the big guns. Almost
every boy who joins the Navy desires to become a gunner. Whistler and Al
Torrance were particularly striving for that position, and they studied
the text-books and took every opportunity offered them to gain knowledge
in that branch of the service.
"Hi, fellows!" called Torry, having stopped the car. "Going to stand
there gassing all day?"
The three figures in seaman's dress broke away from their admiring friends
and approached the automobile. Frenchy Donahue was a little fellow with
pink cheeks, bright eyes, and an Irish smile. Ikey Rosenmeyer was a shrewd
looking lad who always had a fund of natural fun on tap. The older man,
Hans Hertig, was round-faced and solemn looking, and seldom had much to
say. He had had an adventurous experience both as a fisherman and naval
seaman, and really attracted more attention in his home town than did the
four boy chums.
"Get in, fellows," urged Torry. "We want to be sure to catch those chaps
at Elmvale during the noon hour. They go home from the munition works
for dinner, and we must talk with them then."
Frenchy and Ikey and Seven Knott climbed into the tonneau and the car
whizzed away, leaving the crowd of boys and girls, and a few adults,
staring after them.
"By St. Patrick's piper that played the last snake out of Ireland!"
sighed Frenchy, ecstatically, "we never was of such importance since we
was christened--hey, fellows?"
"Oi, oi!" murmured Ikey, wagging his head, "my papa don't even suggest
I should take out the orders to the customers no more. He does it himself,
or he hires a feller to do it for him.
"Mind, now! Last night he closed the shop an hour early so's to sit down
with my mama and me and Aunt Eitel in the back room, after the kids was
all in bed, and made me tell about all we'd done and seen. I tell you
it's great!"
"And before we began our hitch," Al Torrance chuckled, as he expertly
rounded a corner, "we were scarcely worth speaking to in Seacove. Now
folks want to stop us on the street and tell us how much they think of
us."
"Gee!" exploded Frenchy, "I could eat candy and ice cream all day long
if I'd let the kids spend money on me."
"We're sure some pumpkins," drawled Whistler Morgan, dryly, sitting
around in the front seat so he could talk with those in the rear.
"I say, Hans!"
"Yep?" was Seven Knott's reply.
"Do you really think we can get some of those fellows at Elmvale to go
to the recruiting office and enlist?"
"Yep. You fellows can tell 'em. You can talk better'n I can."
Seven Knott knew his shipboard duties thoroughly, and never was
reprimanded for neglect of them. But since the four chums had known him
well, the petty officer had been no conversationalist, that was sure.
"If this war was going to be won by talk, like some fellows in Congress
seem to think," Al Torrance once said, "Seven Knott wouldn't have a
chance. But it is roughnecks just like him that man the boats and shoot
the guns that are going to show Kaiser Bill where he gets off--believe
me!"
Elmvale was a factory town not more than six miles above Seacove. It was
on the river, at the mouth of which was situated the little port in
which were the homes of Whistler Morgan and his friends.
The biggest dam in the State, the Elmvale Dam, held back the waters of
the river above the village; and below the dam were several big mills
and factories that got their power from the use of the water.
On both sides of the stream, and around the cotton mills, the thread
mills, and the munition factories, were built many little homes of the
factory and mill hands. It had been pointed out by the local papers that
these homes were in double peril at this time.
Guards were on watch night and day that ill-affected persons should not
come into the district and blow up the munition factories. But there was
a second and greater danger to the people of Elmvale.
If anything should happen to the dam, if it should burst, the enormous
quantity of water held in leash by the structure would pour over the
village and cover half the houses to their chimney tops.
Two bridges crossed the river at Elmvale; one at the village proper and
the other just below the dam itself and about half a mile from the first
mill, Barron & Brothers' Thread Factory.
"Let's take the upper road," proposed Frenchy, as the car came within
sight of the chimneys of the Elmvale mills. "We've plenty of time before
the noon whistle blows. I haven't been up by the dam since before we all
joined the Navy."
"Just as you fellows say," Al responded, and turned into a side road
that soon brought them above the mills on the ridge overlooking the
valley.
"I say, fellows," Whistler stopped whistling long enough to observe,
"there's a slue of water behind that dam. S'pose she should let go all
of a sudden?"
"I'd rather be up here than down there," Al said.
"Oi, oi!" croaked Ikey, "you said something."
"I wonder if they guard that dam as they say they do the munition
factories," Frenchy put in.
Al turned the machine into the road that descended into the valley by a
sharp incline. In sight of the bridge which crossed the river Whistler
suddenly put his hand upon his chum's arm.
"Hold on, Torry," he said earnestly. "I bet that's one of the guards
now. See that fellow in the bushes over there?"
"I see the man you mean!" Frenchy exclaimed, leaning over the back of
the front seat of the automobile. "But he isn't in khaki. And he hasn't
got a gun."
All the Navy boys in the automobile, even Seven Knott, saw the man to
whom Whistler Morgan had first drawn attention. The man had his back to
the road. He was standing upright with a pair of field glasses to his
eyes. His interest seemed fixed on a point along the face of the dam
just where a thin slice of water ran over the flashboard into the rocky
bed of the river.