YANKEE CAMOUFLAGE
To Ted it seemed as though he were following the mandate of some madman
as he emerged from the conning tower and, grasping the periscope pole,
steadied himself a moment before leaping down on deck. But, being a
loyal son of Uncle Sam, and realizing that the first requisite of a
sailor was to take orders implicitly from his officers, he sprang
nimbly on deck, rushed along the inclined steel plane, and as he came
splashing into the water that washed over the bow, flung himself into
the sea.
"I'll trust to 'Little Mack'," he said to himself.
Coming up to the surface he veered off sharp to the _Dewey's_ starboard
and with long strokes pulled himself into the shadow of the partially
submerged submarine. The life-belt held him secure in the water and
he floated at ease.
Ted turned his attention toward the _Dewey_.
There, he saw, his example was being followed by other members of the
crew. As their names were called off by their commander a number of
the crew leaped overboard.
One stood up on the rim of the conning tower and dived away from the
glare of the enemy searchlights into the black shadows of the submarine.
Suddenly the aft hatch was thrown open directly above the engine room
and in a moment several begrimed members of the engine crew scrambled
up the ladder in quick succession and threw themselves into the sea.
The enemy had ceased firing.
"What does it all mean?" pondered Ted as he floated, watching the
graphic picture.
Unable to solve the problem for himself, he turned his attention to
the nearest man in the water. He swam now only a few strokes away.
With little effort Ted drew up to him. It was Bill Witt.
"Reckon they rammed a shot into her," yelled Bill as they beheld their
ship sinking gradually.
"Looks that way, doesn't it?" answered Ted
The stricken submarine was gradually going down. McClure was there
in the conning tower, of course; that old tradition of the sea, about
every skipper going down with his ship, held true in the case of a
submarine as well. Jack was there, too, in all likelihood; he had
been standing by his commander as Ted and Bill hurried up to hurl
themselves from the deck. Ted gulped as he thought of his chum. Was
it all over with Jack? Would the Germans rescue the American lads
bobbing about in the water?
In another moment the _Dewey_ was completely under, leaving many of her
crew floating in the open sea, at the mercy of their enemies.
"Tough luck!" stammered Ted as he linked arms with Bill over their
life-belts.
Bill was dauntless even in the face of death.
"You never can tell," he said. "I am guessing that 'Little Mack' has
another card up his sleeve."
Down in the turret of the submerged _Dewey_ an extraordinary scene was
being enacted. McClure, Cleary and Jack were standing together as the
vessel glided away under the water.
"It worked---it worked!" shouted the young lieutenant as he ordered
the submerging process discontinued and the _Dewey_ held on an even
keel.
"What worked?" gasped his dazed executive, who had yet to grasp the
significance of his commander's action in ordering members of the
crew overboard.
"Why, don't you see? Those Germans think they sank us. When they
saw our boys leaping into the water they took it for granted one of
their shots had landed and we were done for. They think the boys
leaped overboard to escape death in the hold of a mortally wounded
Yankee. And here we are, safe and sound, under the water!"
"But what about those fellows swimming around up there?" asked Jack
in startled tones.
"We'll go back and get them in a few minutes after we've tended to
this Prussian gentleman that we hypnotized," shot back his commander,
as his jaw squared and his eyes flashed.
Jack and Officer Cleary stared at each other.
"Well, of all the nerve!" gasped Cleary.
"Great Scott, man! it takes a real honest-to-goodness Yankee like you
to get away with such a trick."
Veering off to port, the skipper steered a straight course for several
hundred yards. Then the _Dewey_ cut out into a short half circle and
in another moment came to a stop sixty-five feet below the surface.
"Put her up," came the order to the navigating officer at the ship's
air pumps.
There was an interval of strained silence as the commander waited until
the eye of the periscope had cleared the spray that dashed against
the glass.
"There they are!" he announced. "Light still turned on the spot where
we went down a minute or so ago. Guess they are waiting to see
whether we really are done for."
A signal to the _Dewey's_ engine rooms put the vessel in motion just
long enough for her commander to turn the nose of the craft slightly
to starboard, and then the submarine rested quietly again.
"Friends, Americans, and fellow patriots: my compliments to the
Imperial German Navy," began "Little Mack" as he leaned forward to
touch off a torpedo---and there was a rare smile on his lips.
For an instant the _Dewey_ quivered as the torpedo shot from the bow
of the submerged ship and raced away under the water. Her commander
hugged the periscope glass and watched for developments.
"Got him!" he shouted excitedly, dancing about wildly on the grating
of the conning tower. "It's a hit beyond all doubt. We struck her
almost amidships."
The German vessel had been dealt a deathblow. She was sending up
distress signals.
"She's afire now and can't last long," mused the _Dewey's_ commander
as he continued to survey the ship in distress. "Her magazines will
go in a minute."
The chief concern of the _Dewey_ now was the reclaiming of her sailors
from the sea.
There was little likelihood of gun fire from the sinking German warship.
Her crew were bent on launching lifeboats and getting away before
the final plunge that would carry the ship down to the bottom.
Accordingly, the Yankee submarine came to the surface and commenced
preparations for the rescue of her own crew. Lights were hung at
the mastheads fore and aft and a huge searchlight hurriedly adjusted
on the forepart of the conning tower and the electrical connections
made amidships.
Out of the mist that overhung the sea burst forth suddenly a great
glare. Through the fog loomed a white mass of flame like the blast
of a thousand furnaces, with tongues of fire piercing the night gloom.
The sea was rocked by an explosion that reverberated over the waters
like the crash of a million guns and tossed the submarine like a piece
of driftwood.
"One less warship for the Kaiser's navy," remarked McClure.
"And all because of your rare cunning, old boy," countered his executive
enthusiastically.
Out of the darkness came a shout for help close at hand. Switching
the searchlight in the direction of the cry, Commander McClure beheld
a head bobbing in the water only a few yards away. It was one of his
own crew, one of the electrician's helpers who had gone overboard
with the rest in the mad scramble to outwit the Germans. In a few
minutes he was hauled aboard, dripping wet, his teeth chattering from
the exposure in the water.
"They are all around here," the boy chattered. "We managed to keep
pretty close together in the water."
McClure grasped his hand.
"You are a brave lad," he said. "Every man of you has proved his
mettle by taking a daring chance. Go below now, son, get into warm
clothing and gets something hot to drink."
Coasting to and fro in the water, scanning the sea now to the right,
now to the left, the _Dewey_ continued the search for her crew.
Singly, in twos, and in one case three, men were picked up until it
seemed to the commander that every boy who had gone overboard had
been reclaimed from the sea.
"Call the roll below decks," the commander instructed his executive
officer. Jack and his commander remained in the conning tower still
operating the searchlight.
In a few minutes Officer Cleary returned.
"All safe?" asked "Little Mack."
"No; two still missing," was the executive officer's reply.
"Who are they?" McClure queried.
"Ted Wainwright and Bill Witt," came the answer.