IN THE FOG
Completely blinded by the fire from the wounded German birdman, the
_Dewey_ now had but one alternative. The approach of other air
raiders made it necessary for the submarine to dive away into the
depths to safety. To linger longer on the surface was but to court
the continued fire of the birdmen overhead who apparently were incensed
over the wounding of their companion craft and out for revenge.
Reluctantly, but yielding to his better judgment, McClure gave orders
to submerge. At the same time the damaged periscopes were cut off in
the conning tower to prevent an inflow of water when the ship dived.
"Too bad to quit right now; but it would be folly to stand out under
those deadly bombs any longer," he said.
Fortunately, the _Dewey_ was equipped with reserve periscope tubes,
and Lieutenant McClure's plan now was to wait until the convenient
darkness of night had mantled the ocean and then ascend to repair at
leisure the damaged "eyes."
"Might as well make ourselves comfortable here awhile under the water,"
suggested "Little Mack."
Jean Cartier was instructed to extend himself for the evening meal
and to draw on the ship's larder for an "extra fine dinner." It being
the first night of the _Dewey's_ renewed cruise the ship's galley was
well stocked with fresh foods. Chops, baked potatoes, hot tea and
rice pudding represented the menu selected by Jean, and soon the odor
of the savory food had every mother's son smacking his lips in
anticipation of a luxurious "chow" to top off the exciting events of
the evening.
Seventy feet below the surface of the water, immune from hostile
attacks, officers and crew sat down to the repast as safe and secure
as though in a banquet hail on shore. Wit and laughter accompanied
the courses, and, as the submarine dinner was concluded, Bill Witt's
banjo was produced. Soon the ship resounded to the "plink-plunk-plink"
of the instrument and the gay songs of the jolly submarine sailors.
"If they could only see us now at Brighton!" laughed Ted, as he
surveyed the scene admiringly.
Jack grew reminiscent.
"Remember that last dinner at Brighton?" he asked. "Fellows all
wishing us good luck and cheering for us out on the campus? And
good old 'prexie' declaring he expected to hear great things of his
boys in the war? And all of them standing on the dormitory steps
singing 'Fair Brighton' as we headed for the depot?"
Ted remembered it all now only too plainly. Good old Brighton!
Back there now under the oaks on the campus, or up in the dormitories,
the boys were assembled again for the fall term.
But this was not the time for backward glances. Grim work lay ahead
of them.
An hour later preparations were made to ascend and repair the damaged
periscopes. In response to a query from the ship's commander, Sammy
Smith said he could find no trace of any nearby or approaching vessels,
although he had given the submarine telephone its best test.
Gradually the _Dewey_ came to the surface as the ballast tanks were
emptied. The hatch was thrown open and the _Dewey's_ commander raised
himself to get a line on his surroundings.
A dense fog had commenced to settle over the water, blotting out the
stars and making a mist that hung over the sea like a great gray
blanket.
"Could not be better for our purposes had it been made to order,"
smiled McClure, as he gave orders for the repair crew to haul out the
reserve periscopes and get busy.
It was impossible to see more than a hundred yards from the sides
of the _Dewey_ in any direction, and there appeared nothing but the
rolling swell of the ocean. Nevertheless, overlooking no precaution,
McClure gave orders for all lights to be dimmed amidships. In the
darkness the crew went to work to substitute the new "eyes" of the
ship for the damaged tubes, climbing out on the superstructure and
working energetically.
Just as the forward periscope was being lowered into position and
secured, Commander McClure, supervising the work, was startled by a
voice out of the fog, a stentorian challenge through a megaphone, that
seemed almost on top of the submarine.
"What ship is that?" came the call in German.
For a moment it seemed that some one on the deck of the submarine must
be playing a prank on his friends. But Bill Witt, who was doing
lookout duty forward, declared that the cry was right at hand and
apparently from the deck of a warship.
Whispering to the repair crew to go quickly below McClure addressed
himself to the unknown voice in his best Deutsch.
"Dis iss das unterseeboot nein und zwanzig."
For a moment there was a deathless silence. Then again the heavy voice
to port:
"You speck not the truth. U-boat 29 is in der Kiel Canal. You are
English or Yankee. We call on you to surrender!"
McClure's answer was to slam down the lid of the conning tower and ring
for full speed in the engine room. Instantly he switched the rudder
to starboard as the _Dewey's_ propeller blades began to turn.
"Dive!" yelled the commander to his navigating officer, as he himself
slanted the submerging rudders.
Almost at the same moment the German warship's powerful searchlights
turned full upon the American submarine. Then came a great spit of
fire from a battery aboard the enemy vessel followed by the roar of
her guns and a salvo of shots.
"It's no use, boys," said the submarine commander to his officers.
"They have us trapped. Unless we surrender here we are going to be
blown out of the water in short order. We cannot submerge quick
enough to avoid that terrible gunfire."
Again and a shot from the enemy, and this time it struck in the water
just in front of the conning tower and flung a great spray that
blinded the portholes.
The _Dewey_ was just starting to submerge. With her diving rudders
inclined, the ship was tilted now until her bow pointed downward and
her stern reared up out of the water. She was shipping ballast in
her tanks rapidly, but the process was necessarily slow and, even
with her improved equipment, it must be one and a half to two minutes
before the hull could be submerged, let alone the conning tower.
"Hold her right there!" suddenly shouted the young lieutenant to his
navigating officer.
The latter was for a moment completely dumbfounded by the order.
"What---you don't mean---why---" he started to say, but instantly
withheld his speech at the frowning face of his superior officer.
"Up with that hatch!" the _Dewey's_ commander thundered, as his
executive officer stood aghast at the reckless procedure.
The latter hastened, however, to comply with the order.
"Wainwright!" shouted Lieutenant McClure.
Ted jumped into the conning tower beside his commander.
"You have already shown your bravery," began McClure hurriedly.
"Here's another test for you. Climb through the conning tower, run
forward and dive off the bow. But, first of all, grab a life-belt
and strap it to you. Don't ask questions. Have confidence in me.
When you get in the water, work your way rapidly around the bow
of the _Dewey_ to starboard. Float there in the shadow of our hull.
Keep close up. All will be well in a moment."
Obeying orders implicitly, Ted was strapping on the life-preserver.
"Ready?" called McClure.
Ted saluted.
"Right---go!" shouted the commander of the _Dewey_.