AN UNEXPECTED TARGET
At quarters for muster and inspection that day the four Navy boys from
Seacove were given their numbers and drill placements. These were, of
course, not permanent assignments. Changes would quickly be made after
the capabilities of the boys were established. Especially would this be
so in assignments of duty relating to the ship when in action.
The four friends had Mr. MacMasters to say a good word for them. Their
record, too, aboard the _Colodia_ and with the prize crew on the
captured German raider would be taken into consideration when permanent
appointments were made upon the _Kennebunk_.
Hans Hertig immediately took his rightful position as boatswain's mate.
His rating was assured. But, after all, the apprentice seamen must prove
themselves before the officers of the superdreadnaught were likely to
give them much consideration.
The act of particular courage that had brought Whistler Morgan into
prominence on the submarine chaser the night before would scarcely be
taken public notice of by Captain Trevor of the _Kennebunk_ until it was
mentioned in orders from Washington. Ensign MacMasters, however, liked
the boy too well not to take the first opportunity offered him to relate
the happening on the S. P. 888 at officers' mess. After this it of
course quickly reached the captain's ears.
Whistler and Torry immediately put in their claim for gunnery work. They
had studied faithfully and had had considerable training with the
secondary battery of the _Colodia_.
"Of course, these huge guns of the _Kennebunk_ mean something else
again," declared Ikey. "You fellers have been playin' with popguns yet.
If you get in a turret gun crew you've got to show 'em."
"We'll do just that little thing," answered Torry rather boastfully.
There was not likely to be practice with the big guns until the weather
changed. The _Kennebunk_ roared on through the storm for all of that
day; but her hull was so huge that she scarcely rolled while she
remained under steam.
Most target shooting is arranged for ordinarily fair weather. Not often
have battles at sea been fought in a storm. Besides, the _Kennebunk_
must run off the coast, beyond the approved steamship lines, to a point
where she could be joined by a naval vessel dragging the target.
There were lectures on gunnery that day to the gun captains, and the
boys off duty who were interested in the subject might listen to this
instruction. Phil Morgan and Torrance availed themselves of the
privilege.
The two younger chums, Michael Donahue and Ikey Rosenmeyer, were not, it
must be confessed, so well employed. During this first day aboard the
_Kennebunk_ there was bred between these youths a scheme which certainly
would not have met with the approval of the executive officer.
In their quarters aboard the destroyer _Colodia_ they would not have
been able to stow the junk they now secured away from the watchful eyes
of the master-at-arms. In the destroyer their ditty boxes had to hide
any private property the boys wanted to stow away.
But a man could lose himself in the various decks of the
superdreadnaught. Even the officers' quarters were forward with the
crew's, the ship was so huge. There were unused rooms and compartments
for which Ikey and Frenchy did not know the names, or their uses.
In one of these unoccupied compartments the two found a lot of lumber
and rubbish amid which were some joints of two-inch galvanized pipe the
plumbers and pipe fitters had left when the ship was being furnished.
"Gee, Ikey!" murmured the agile-minded Irish lad, "I've got an idea."
"I bet you," returned Ikey. "You always have ideas. But is this one
worth anything?"
"Listen here!" and Frenchy, with dancing eyes, whispered into his
friend's ear the details of the new-born scheme.
"Oi, oi!" cried Ikey. "It is an idea, sure enough. But it is trouble you
are looking for."
"Not a bit of it. We needn't tell anybody--not even Whistler or Al. Gee!
it will be great."
"Mebbe the old man won't say so." He was referring to Captain Trevor,
but in no disrespectful way. "Old Man" is rather a term of admiration
and affection applied to the commander of a ship.
"Lots he'll be botherin' about what we do," sniffed Frenchy.
Ikey was already enamored of his friend's plan. His objections were very
weak.
"Ah, g'wan!" reiterated Frenchy. "You won't get into the brig for it,
that's sure. I'll do it alone. Only see that you keep your mouth shut
about it, if you won't help."
But Ikey had no intention of seeing his friend have all the fun of the
thing. He stopped objecting, and thereafter gave his hearty assistance
in the plot.
At odd times during that day and the next the two rigged a weighted
platform into which could be fixed upright lengths of the two-inch pipe
they had found.
Rigged to suit them at last, the two boys took their appliance to pieces
again and hid the parts away until a to-be-determined time. They were
planning to have a joke upon the whole ship's company; but they were
forced to wait for the appropriate moment in which to spring the
surprise.
The third morning out revealed a clearing sky and subsiding waves; and
the regular ship's routine at sea was taken up.
"Officers' call" was sounded five minutes before the "assembly" bugle
call at 9:15. At the later call men of the various divisions fall in
smartly at double time for muster in the respective parts of the ship.
The men are inspected at this time regarding the condition of their
clothing, length of hair, personal cleanliness, and whether or not they
are carefully shaved.
This last requirement troubled the four friends from Seacove but little,
save that Whistler and Torry occasionally wore a little fuzz on their
cheeks, which Frenchy declared they lathered surreptitiously with
cream, then let the ship's cat lick it off.
"If they had a real ship's cat on this iron pot," retorted Torry,
"I know who would most frequently have the attention of that. You
need the cat-o'-nine-tails right now, Frenchy."
"Gee! ain't he bloodthirsty and savage?" whispered Michael, who dearly
loved to tease.
The petty officers who personally inspected the men at this morning
review reported to the division officer, who in turn reported to the
executive officer of the ship, who is always the navigating officer.
After the reports the physical drill, or setting-up exercises, is the
order. These calisthenics are similar to that drill in the army.
It was on this third day that the boys were assigned to the watches and
to their divisions for the cruise. The ship's company is divided into
port and starboard watches, each watch being organized into divisions.
Each turret is manned by a division, numbered in rotation, beginning
with Number One from forward aft. To the delight of Philip Morgan and Al
Torrance they were both assigned to Number Two division, and would be
members of the crew of a big gun in the second turret.
The broadside batteries were partly manned by marines, of whom there
were a large number aboard the _Kennebunk_. These "soldiers of the sea"
had always interested Whistler and his friends.
For convenience in making out station bills and the like, each man of a
division has a number assigned him by which he is known. Whistler and
Torry were given respectively Numbers 2111 and 2112. These numbers
showed that they were Numbers 11 and 12 of the first section of the
second division--the first figure for division, the second for section,
and the remainder the personal number of the man in his section.
The watches, meaning the length of time into which the twenty-four hours
aboard ship is divided, are arranged on a naval vessel as in all
maritime affairs.
The first watch is from 8:00 P. M. till midnight. The mid-watch, or
"graveyard watch," is from midnight till 4:00 A. M.; the morning watch
from 4:00 till 8:00 A. M.; the forenoon watch from 8:00 A. M. till
mid-day; the afternoon watch from noon till 4:00 P. M.; and the
dog-watches, each of which is but two hours long, are from 4:00 till
6:00 P. M. and from 6:00 till 8 P. M.
The Seacove boys were already well trained in the general duties that
fell to their share, even though they had never cruised upon a
superdreadnaught. Now they had the special duties of looking after the
guns in the turret to which they were attached. Gun drill would
hereafter occupy a part of their time each forenoon.
As the weather cleared the lookouts all over the ship kept sharper watch
than they had before for any moving object on the sea. They had seen the
smoke of steamships and the sails of other vessels during the storm, but
had not spoken a single craft since leaving port.
The _Kennebunk_ frequently received and sent wireless messages; but the
messages were evidently unimportant for they caused no flurry of
excitement. The Seacove boys were expecting some news of submarines, or
the capture of the "mother ship," which they believed was cruising off
the coast to supply German U-boats with fuel. But no news of this kind
came to their ears.
The big battleship was now nearing the point where they could expect to
meet the auxiliary naval vessel towing the target.
"Pretty soft! Pretty soft!" said one chap in Whistler's gun crew
disgustedly. "Pretty soft for us! We fellows going out to target
practice, while those battleships already on the other side of this
periscope pond may be fighting the Fritzies off Heligoland."
"We'll get a chance at a sub maybe," said another more hopefully.
"No such luck," growled the first speaker. "We'll just about get shot at
with a torpedo from one of those pirates. We'd never have the good luck
to plant a shell in a U-boat where it would do the most good. No, sir!"
There was so much that was new for the four boys from Seacove to learn
aboard the superdreadnaught that they did not worry much about getting
into immediate action. Target practice with the big guns would spell
excitement enough for the time being, they thought.
Meanwhile Michael Donahue and Ikey Rosenmeyer were having a secret all
to themselves that kept them breaking out in "the giggles" at
unseasonable times, so that the master-at-arms gave them two reprimands
within the twenty-four hours. Another would be likely to put their names
on the report--an incident that was always to be regretted.
The battleship was steaming through a flattening sea at half speed. Word
had been passed from one of the masthead lookouts that smoke was
sighted. The executive officer said it was probably the auxiliary ship
with the target in tow. The report brought almost everybody who was free
to the open decks.
But Frenchy and Ikey showed an unexplained lack of interest in this
incident. They remained below and, seizing their chance unobserved,
slipped into the spare compartment on the lower deck in which the
lumber was stowed.
Just abaft this compartment was an ash-chute. As the sea was now calm,
the ash-hoist had been at work that morning and the trap-door of the
chute had not been relocked. This door kicked open outboard, giving vent
upon the sea, the opening being about ten feet above the waterline of
the _Kennebunk_.
The two chums were deeply engaged in the compartment for some time while
the crew and officers on deck watched the approach of the target boat.
The course of that and the battleship would bring the two within
speaking distance in an hour or less.
Suddenly Ikey croaked a warning: "Hist! What's that, Frenchy?"
"What's what?" puffed his friend, just then very much engaged in
fastening together two joints of pipe. "Don't try to scare a fellow.
Nobody's coming."
"Listen!" commanded Ikey.
Michael sat back on his heels, cocking his head to listen. It was no
footstep outside the compartment slide. It was not that kind of sound at
all. And it was faint--so faint indeed that perhaps the noises of the
storm since they had left port had quite smothered the queer sound.
"A clock?" Frenchy suggested.
"Funny sounding clock," whispered Ikey Rosenmeyer. "And where can it
be?"
"Tick-_tock_! Tick-_tock_! Tick-_tock_!" The emphasis upon the second
division of the sound was unmistakable. It did not seem like any clock
the boys had ever heard.
"That's never a ship's chronometer, you know, that," declared Frenchy.
"What is it, then?" was his chum's worried demand.
"Oh, bother! Don't care what it is," returned Frenchy. "Give us a hand
here, Ike. Want me to do all the work alone, do you?"
Frenchy was really getting cross. There are plenty of noises of one kind
or another about a ship. One more noise he did not think mattered.
But Ikey continued to raise his head now and then to listen to the
"tick-tock" sound. It puzzled him, and he determined to tell Whistler
about it.
Their work was completed at length, and Frenchy crept out into the
passage to look about. There was nobody in this part of the ship save
themselves.
The two mischievous youths tugged the result of their labor out to the
ash-chute. The time was propitious. The battleship and the auxiliary
were approaching each other and signals were being exchanged. Captain
Trevor was on the quarterdeck and word was passed that target practice
would immediately begin. In a moment Frenchy and Ikey darted out on deck
and joined their mates without being observed by the master-at-arms.
Whistler and Al Torrance were already hovering about their stations. If
the guns of Number Two turret got a chance, they hoped to have a hand in
the manipulation of them.
Suddenly there came a hail from the masthead:
"Q'deck-ahoy-sir!"
The boy up there ran his cry altogether in his excitement. The
navigating officer replied.
"Submarine astern, sir! Can see the periscope bobbing, sir!" was the
statement that changed the entire atmosphere of the battleship from that
of mere curiosity and interest to the wildest excitement.