AN ACCIDENT
The _Kennebunk_ shook throughout her structure at that moment and Ikey
darted for the between-decks ladder.
"Another submarine!" he shouted. "Oi, oi!"
"Hold on!" drawled Frenchy. "Nothing like it. There goes another. They
are at practice. The target's in range."
The four Seacove boys had seen something of gun practice on the
destroyer _Colodia_; but the secondary batteries of the smaller vessel
made no such racket as did the big guns of the _Kennebunk_.
The discharge of a turret gun aboard the superdreadnaught was an
important matter, and a costly one as well. The gun crews practiced all
the movements save the actual discharge of the guns every day. To burn
up several hundred pounds of powder and fire away the expensive
projectiles in rehearsal was a serious matter.
The gun crew that had made a clean hit on the submarine with its first
shell, had already shown what value practice shooting was. The high
standard of the gunnery in our Navy pays for all it costs.
These gunners had practiced at the schools and on other vessels before
being assigned to the superdreadnaught. No matter how much good powder
and shot had already been flung away in training that particular crew of
Turret Number Two, the sinking of the German submarine had paid for it
all.
Whistler and Torry did not, of course, actually fire the gun. The gun
captain did that. But the exact team work of the crew had much to do
with the score of the gun in target practice; and the two friends did
their work commendably.
There was a sharp lookout kept during target practice for other
submarines. The disappearance of the first periscope which had been
hailed from the masthead was the cause of much discussion. It was
generally believed that this first submarine had wisely made off when
its sister ship was so promptly sunk by the battleship.
Frenchy and Ikey almost burst from their desire to tell what they knew
about the mystery. But they did not dare.
It had been a lesson which the two mischief-loving boys would not easily
forget. While the whole ship's company was watching the imitation
periscope Frenchy and Ikey had slipped overboard through the ash-chute,
the real submarine might have torpedoed the _Kennebunk_.
The score of each gun crew was transmitted to Washington by favor of
the auxiliary steamer which towed the target, and she disappeared
coastward just at sunset. The superdreadnaught was under orders to
proceed on a southerly course, and parallel with the coast, for some
considerable distance. She was doing outside patrol duty on this, her
first real cruise.
Men and officers were first of all expected to get used to each other
and to the ship. This familiarity could only come about through drills
and practice work in every branch. The men must have confidence in their
officers, and the officers know their men thoroughly before the
commander could feel that he had a smoothly working ship's company.
The excitement caused by the first blow struck at the enemy and the
successful target practice that followed would not soon wear off. And
both incidents helped the morale of the crew.
Almost every enlisted man showed delight in his face. Only Hans Hertig
displayed a woful countenance. The solemnity of the boatswain's mate
attracted even Ensign MacMasters' attention.
"What's the matter with you, Hans?" he demanded of the petty officer.
It was difficult to get any explanation out of Seven Knott; but finally
the tale of the ghostly "clock" on the lower deck was blurted out by
the superstitious petty officer.
"What do you mean, a ghost?" growled the ensign. "Don't let me hear of
your repeating such nonsense, Hertig. Let me tell you it will interfere
with your advance in rating if you do circulate the story. I'll take the
matter up with Captain Trevor if I hear anything more about it."
But it was impossible to stop the circulation of such a story on
shipboard. Rumor flies from deck to deck on wings. A hint of the strange
noise below decks made others besides Seven Knott investigate. Many
declared they heard the "tick-tock" sound.
There never was a crew at sea yet in which some of its members were not
superstitious. Seven Knott was not the only one troubled by the ghostly
clock. Stories of haunted ships became common among certain groups of
seamen and marines during the hours off duty.
To most of the boys and enlisted men it was all a huge joke;
nevertheless there were enough of the crew really superstitious for the
tale of the clock-ticking sound to interfere with the general morale of
the ship's company.
The chief master-at-arms finally made what he deemed a thorough
investigation of the report. But it was evident that he had made up his
mind to counteract the influence of the strange sound upon the men by
denying its existence.
This, of course, did no good at all. The men, or, at least, some of
them, could hear the "tick-_tock_! tick-_tock_! tick-_tock_!" for
themselves. Those who wandered into the room where the lumber was stowed
were strongly impressed by the unexplained sounds. By and by the men as
a rule fought shy of entering that part of the ship.
When Whistler was told by Frenchy and Ikey that they had first heard the
"ghost-clock" after the subsiding of the storm, he declared it to be
nonsense, pure and simple.
"Don't you fellows forget the scare we all got aboard the _Graf von
Posen_ over that old lead coffin in her hold? I should think you would
know better than to circulate such yarns about the ship," he declared in
some heat.
"We didn't say a word about it," Frenchy denied. "Only to you and Torry.
Seven Knott started the row, not us."
"And he ought to be keelhauled for it," growled Torry.
Nothing would satisfy Frenchy and Ikey, however, until Phil and Al went
down with them to listen to the strange sound themselves. It was there,
all right. When their ears became used to the steady thumping of the
engines, they were able to distinguish the clock-like noise.
"It's some trick," declared Torrance, with conviction. "Sure you chaps
haven't started a joke on us?"
"No joke!" denied Ikey.
"We've sworn off practical jokes," joined in Frenchy earnestly.
"Huh! what's the matter with you?" sniffed Torry suspiciously. "Why this
eleventh-hour conversion?"
But the two smaller fellows refused to be "drawn." They merely
reiterated that they knew nothing about the cause of the ghostly sound.
The four overhauled all the stowed tackle and lumber in the compartment,
but found nothing but a locked carpenter's chest that was too heavy to
move. And the noise did not seem to come from that.
"It's in the air--it's all about us," declared Whistler seriously.
"I doubt if the source of the noise is in this room at all; it is
somewhere near and by some freak of acoustics the sound is heard more
plainly in this place."
"You can try to explain it as you will," returned Torry. "It's mighty
mysterious."
"'Mysterious' is no name for it," said Frenchy. "It'll be more than that
before all's said and done. By St. Patrick's piper that played the last
snake out of Ireland! some of these garbies are getting blue around the
gills already."
"Laugh at them," commanded Whistler. "We're Americans. We ought not to
have a superstitious bone in our bodies."
"Arrah!" grunted Frenchy. "I don't know rightly that it's me bones that
are superstitious. But that 'tick-tock' gives me the creeps, just the
same."
In a week the bulk of the _Kennebunk's_ crew were keeping strictly away
from the compartment on the lower deck from which came the strange
sound. In addition, a run of small accidents broke out which seemed to
the minds of many of the crew to assure that the ship was doomed to bad
luck.
"The ship is haunted," continued to be whispered from division to
division. The sternness of the petty officers could not halt the
spreading feeling.
"How about our very first gun sinking a submarine?" demanded Philip
Morgan of one group.
"Oh, that was just a chance," was the reply.
"Hump!" said Whistler with disgust. "I have an idea the old _Kennebunk_
is going to be blessed with similar chances."
There followed, however, a really serious accident. A pipe in the boiler
room burst, and several men were scalded, one so badly that the ship's
surgeons declared he must be transported to a shore hospital as soon as
possible.
The operation of skin grafting could not be performed successfully on
shipboard, and nothing else would save the unfortunate victim of the
accident from having a terribly disfigured face.
Many of the man's shipmates would gladly have aided by giving patches of
healthy skin for the benefit of the patient; but the operation was too
delicate to be undertaken on the battleship, and the healing of the
unfortunate man would be too tedious.
After communicating with the Navy Department by wireless, Captain Trevor
decided to send the steam runner into Hampton Roads with the injured
man, while the battleship continued her southerly course in compliance
with her orders.
The steam-screw tender of the _Kennebunk_ was a good sized craft and
perfectly seaworthy. They were too far from shore to trust a motor boat;
and to use one of the big whaleboats under sail would take too long.
The derrick swung the big boat overside, and she was lowered into the
sea as lightly as though she were a featherweight. Meanwhile Ensign
MacMasters was assigned to her command and he had the privilege of
picking his crew to suit himself.
The steamer mounted a gun forward and one aft. To the delight of Phil
and Al, the ensign chose them as members of the gun crews.
Immediately Frenchy and Ikey clamored to be taken, too. Ensign
MacMasters without doubt displayed favoritism at this time. He
acquiesced in the desires of the two younger boys from Seacove.
"I suppose you would pine away and refuse your chow if you were
separated from Morgan and Torrance," the ensign said laughingly. "Get
your hammock-rolls and go aboard. I'll fix it with the executive
officer."
So, when the steamer started from the towering side of the battleship,
the four Navy boys were members of her crew, and likely to experience a
variety of adventures.