ON THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA
Listening for a few moments at the microphones, McClure turned abruptly
and rang the crew to quarters.
The engine room was signaled to tune up the motors.
"From the way that fellow is hugging the coast I wouldn't be surprised
if he is a Hun raider poking along on a little reconnaissance,"
observed McClure to his executive officer.
Aroused from his slumber, Sammy Smith took charge of the electrical
receiving room and after listening for awhile gave his opinion that
the approaching ship was moving south along the Belgian coast and
distant from the _Dewey_ about a mile and a half. From the faint
registrations in the microphones he judged it to be a vessel of light
draft---probably a small cruiser or a destroyer.
"Well, we never lose an opportunity to do our duty, be the enemy large
or small fry," observed McClure.
After waiting for a few moments longer, and being advised of the
continued steady approach of the ship, the young lieutenant decided
to move in closer to get within better range, and then rise to the
surface and "look her over." It was well on toward four o'clock and
soon would be daylight.
Creeping along at half speed, the _Dewey_ veered slightly to starboard
and steered a course N.N.W. toward the oncoming craft. After cruising
thus for a quarter of an hour the submarine was stopped altogether
again and her captain conferred again with his wireless chief.
"She seems to have changed her course," announced Smith after listening
intently at both port and starboard microphones. "As near as I can
calculate she has turned off abruptly to port and is running due east
toward the coast."
"Fine!" exclaimed McClure. "A German for sure. And now perhaps we
can track her to her lair."
In a few moments the _Dewey_ thrust her periscopes up out of the sea
and set out in pursuit of the unknown ship. It was yet too dark to
make her out, except for a dim blur that showed faintly against the
background of the Belgian coast. By striking the _Dewey's_ latitude
and longitude they figured they were at a point five or six miles off
Blankenberghe.
"Where do you suppose she is heading for?" asked Cleary. He was
plainly puzzled.
"There probably is a canal near at hand that the Germans have dug out
since their occupation of Belgium, and which they now are using as a
retreat for their light draft vessels---possibly a submarine base,"
answered McClure.
For a time the _Dewey_ followed steadily on in the wake of the German.
It was not long until McClure, at the forward periscope, was able to
get a better look at the foe.
"A big destroyer," he announced. "I can make out her four funnels."
It was now apparent to the lieutenant that they were approaching close
to the coast and that very shortly the destroyer must turn again to
the sea or else take her way into some tortuous channel leading inland.
"Reckon we have gone as far as we can," he declared after a further
observation. He had in mind the fact that the approach to the waterway
for which the destroyer was headed most certainly was mined and
that without a chart of the course he was running the risk of driving
into one of the dangerous buoys.
He determined to chance a shot at the destroyer, submerge and go out
to sea again. Sighting on the dimly outlined destroyer he released
a torpedo and then, without waiting to observe the result of the
random shot, gave the signal to dive.
Down went the _Dewey_. And in another moment, as the gallant sub
slipped away into the depths, she lurched suddenly with a staggering
motion and brought up sharp with an impact that shook the vessel from
stem to stern. Officer Cleary was catapulted off his feet and crashed
into the steel conning tower wall, with an exclamation of pain.
The _Dewey_ seemed to have run hard against an undersea wall.
"Reverse the engine!" shouted McClure. "We must have run upon a
sandy shoal."
Frantically he rang the engine room to back away. But the order came
too late. With a slow ringing noise that plainly bespoke the grating
of the ship's keel on the bed of the ocean the submarine slid forward
and then came to a dead stop, quivering in every steel plate from the
tremendous throbbing of her engines.
"Great Scott, we've run aground!" exclaimed McClure as he stood
wild-eyed in the conning tower.
Jack was despatched to the engine room for a report from Chief Engineer
Blaine. He returned in a moment to say that the ship's engines were
reversed and the propeller shafts revolving to the limit of the
ship's power. Nevertheless, it was only too evident that the _Dewey_
was enmeshed in a treacherous shoal from which she was unable to
extricate herself.
Officer Binns was ordered to throw off all possible ballast.
One by one the tanks were emptied. The air pumps were working valiantly
but at each discharge of water ballast the officers of the stranded
vessel waited in vain for the welcome "lift" that would tell them
the ship was floating free again. The last ballast tank had now been
emptied and the depth dial still showed eighty-four feet.
"Looks as though we were stuck, all right," was McClure's solitary
comment as he gazed again at the depth dial.
The engines now were shut down, the air pumps had ceased working.
There was not a sound throughout the submersible, except the low
drone of the electric fans that swept the air along the passageways.
Every man waited in stoical silence a further word from his chief.
"Jonah had nothing on us," cried Bill Witt grinning, as the group
of boys retreated down the passageway leading forward from the conning
tower into the main torpedo compartment. Lieutenant McClure and
his officers were conferring together over the _Dewey's_ dilemma.
"This ship is no fish," ventured Ted timidly, his mind engrossed in
the new danger that threatened.
"Well, it's a whale of a submarine, isn't it?" continued Bill in a
brave effort to be funny.
Ted agreed, but was in no humor for joking, and hurried amidships to
join Jack, who had remained within call of his commander.
For some moments the boys discussed the predicament of the _Dewey_,
the unfortunate circumstances that had led her aground, and the
possibilities of being floated again. Jack confided to his chum the
fact that he had overheard Lieutenant McClure say the _Dewey_ probably
had ventured too close in shore and had run afoul of a sand bar.
"What's the next move?" queried Ted.
"You've got me, chum; I don't know what they will try next," answered
Jack, feeling a bit glum despite his natural cheerfulness.
Lieutenant McClure and his officers---Cleary, Binns, and Blaine---were
now making an inspection of the _Dewey_ fore and aft. As they returned
amidships the boys overheard snatches of the conversation.
"Propeller blades free, aren't they?" McClure was asking.
"Working free and easy or else the shafts wouldn't turn," Blaine
was saying.
From what the boys could gather from the conversation it was the
belief of the ship's officers that the _Dewey_ was grounded on a
heavy sand bar. She had sloughed down deep in the miry sea bottom
with her keel amidships firmly imbedded and her bow and stern floating
free. The suction of the mud prevented her from rising.
In the wireless room Jack, Ted, Sammy Smith and Bill Witt finally came
together and began speculating on the critical predicament of their
ship. Cooped up in their cage of steel, shut off from the outside
world of fresh air and sunshine, the crew of the _Dewey_ were held
prisoners like rats in a trap, dependent for life upon the air they
were breathing and the precious stores of oxygen in the emergency
tanks!
The next few hours were full of anxiety for the officers and crew of
the stranded _Dewey_. Several times during the morning the ship's
engines were set in motion and valiant efforts made to drag the ship
off the shoal. But each succeeding effort availed nothing, except
to eat up the precious electrical energy in the storage batteries.
In the petrol tanks was plenty of fuel for the engines, but it was
useless here on the bottom of the sea where only the electric motors
could be used in submerged locomotion.
Realizing the futility of these sporadic efforts at escape, Lieutenant
McClure decided to wait until one o'clock for another supreme effort.
It would be high tide at noon and he decided to make the great effort
shortly thereafter on the thin hope that he might get away with the
tide running out to sea.
The time passed drearily. Jack and Ted tried to get interested in a
game of chess, but with little success. Bill Witt sought with mouth
organ and banjo to buoy up the spirits of his downcast mates and
succeeded poorly. Noon mess was served at eleven forty-five and
even Jean Cartier, as he dispensed canned beans, brown bread, stewed
fruit and tea, forgot to smile as usual at his culinary tasks.
"We ought to get away now if we are to get off at all," Jack overheard
Lieutenant McClure say to Cleary after mess kits had been stowed and
preparations were under way for the "big drive."
In a few minutes more the _Dewey_ was primed for the test. Soon the
clatter of machinery aft indicated that the engines were in motion.
"Back away!" was the signal flashed to the engine room. Instantly
the full power of the motors was turned into the giant shafts and the
propellors threshed the ocean with the fury of a wounded whale. With
all the might she possessed the submarine strove to free herself and
float away to freedom.
Thrice were the engines stopped and started again. But every time the
quivering submarine failed to move an inch!