THE HUMAN TORPEDO
"Looks as though we were up against it," remarked Executive Officer
Cleary to his chief as the _Dewey's_ engines died down into silence.
Lieutenant McClure, his youthful face wrinkled in deep thought, looked
up apprehensively.
"A very serious situation," he mumbled.
He spoke with marked gravity now, and there was no response from the
executive officer, nor from Navigating Officer Binns, as they stood
quietly and rigidly at attention, awaiting orders.
Inquiry in the engine room brought the information that the batteries
had been greatly depleted by the tremendous exertions of the _Dewey_.
The supply of "juice" certainly could not last much longer.
What next? Instinctively every man aboard the doomed ship was asking
himself the question. It was only too manifest that the _Dewey_ had
run hard aground. The best that could be hoped for now was that the
shifting currents of the sea might wash the submarine free before
death overwhelmed her imprisoned crew.
"Make yourselves as comfortable as possible; we are not done for
yet---not by a jugful," essayed McClure bravely as he sauntered into
the torpedo room where Chief Gunner Mowrey and his men were assembled
in hushed discussion of the _Dewey's_ plight.
Immediately "Little Mack" was surrounded by his men. They asked him
all manner of questions.
"Remember first, last, and always that you are Americans and members
of the United States Navy," continued their commanding officer. "We
have air supply in the reserve tanks sufficient to stay here for many
hours yet without danger of suffocation; and in the meantime quite a
number of things can happen."
Despite their commander's cheery remarks there was little comfort in
his words. Trusting implicitly their gallant chief, every man aboard
the stranded submarine was keenly alive to the seriousness of the
situation and mentally figuring on the possibilities of escape from
the prison ship in case it was found at last impossible to float
the vessel. The boys knew their dauntless commander, in a final
extremity, would resort to heroic measures of escape rather than
allow his men to be suffocated and overwhelmed by a slow death in
their trap of steel.
It was now more than twelve hours since the _Dewey_ had submerged
after the exciting events of the preceding night and the air supply
was still sufficiently impregnated with oxygen to enable the imprisoned
crew to breathe free and normally. The boys knew that the _Dewey_
could continue thus for at least thirty-six hours before her officers
would commence drawing on the reserve oxygen tanks.
In an atmosphere of suspense the long afternoon dragged into evening.
Every effort to free the vessel had been tried, but to no avail.
Evening mess was served amid an oppressive silence varied only by
the valiant efforts of bluff Bill Witt to stir a bit of confidence
in his mates. Another and final effort to get away was to be tried
at midnight with high tide. And then---if nothing availed---the boys
knew full well that with the morning Lieutenant McClure would resort
to some drastic measures.
Efforts at sleep were futile for the most part, although dauntless
spirits like Bill Witt and Mike Mowrey turned in as usual and dozed
away as peacefully as though no danger existed. Midnight and high
tide kindled fresh hopes as "Little Mack" steeled himself for a last
try with the _Dewey's_ hardworked engines. Jack and Ted had spent
the long evening in the wireless room with Sammy Smith, hearing not
so much as a trace of a passing vessel. Eagerly they awaited the
last herculean effort for freedom. At ten minutes to one the engines
were set in motion again and the signal given to back away as before.
Lieutenant McClure had resorted to the expedient of shifting
everything movable within the _Dewey_ to the bow bulkhead in the
hope that the submarine might be tilted forward at the supreme
moment. Now he ordered every man aboard ship, except the engineering
force necessary to operate the engines, into the torpedo chamber
forward.
"Whirr-r-r!" the roar of machinery reverberated throughout the hold.
The _Dewey_ struggled again in mad convulsion---but all to no avail.
The shifted cargo of humans and equipment made no difference; the
submersible remained fast.
There now was no doubt of the _Dewey's_ serious dilemma. No spoken
word was necessary to impress upon the men the critical situation.
Sleep was out of the question. Jack rambled into the wireless room,
where he tried to calm his restless spirits by rattling away on the
key at the code alphabet. Lately he had been giving much attention
to mastering the operation of the wireless apparatus and under the
direction of Sammy Smith had been making excellent progress.
He nervously fitted the microphone receivers to his ears---and the
next moment sat bolt upright. He was startled to hear the clicking
sound in the listeners that indicated the proximity of a moving vessel.
"Quick! Listen here!" he called out to Sammy Smith. The wireless
chief dashed down the receivers and hurried to find Lieutenant Mcclure.
"Ship approaching from the southwest," said Smith hurriedly. "Coming
up the coast and apparently about two miles away."
"Little Mack" adjusted the receivers and stood listening to the
revolving propellers of the craft that approached and passed overhead.
For a moment he debated the idea of releasing a torpedo that might
be noticed by the crew of the unknown vessel. But such a plan was
not feasible, for the ship would think only of being attacked and
would stand ready to repel an enemy rather than look for a submarine
in distress. Furthermore, such an expedient was out of the question;
for, gazing at his watch, he found that it was only four o'clock and
hardly light enough for a torpedo to be seen unless it passed very
close to the oncoming ship.
"There is one thing we might do," spoke up Jack Hammond. "Lieutenant,
I have a plan to suggest. We seem to be in a desperate situation
that demands some prompt action. That vessel up there may be an
American or British destroyer. It is up to us to find out while
there is yet a chance for our lives. Shoot me out the torpedo tube,
sir. I'm a good strong swimmer and I may be able to attract their
attention. The thing has been done before and I'm perfectly willing
to take a chance."
"Your proposal is in good faith, boy," interrupted his commander, "but
it strikes me as a foolhardy proposition. We are down here more than
eighty feet and, even though you got up to the surface, the chances
of your gaining the attention of that vessel are mighty slim."
Jack stepped forward eagerly. "It has been done before and I'm willing
to take that chance," he urged. "If we stay here we are done for.
Unless we find some way of floating the _Dewey_ within the next
twenty-four hours we've all got to take our chances on getting out of
here. Let me go now. It might as well be now as later on. We've
got to act quickly."
For a moment Mcclure stood motionless surveying the intrepid youngster.
It seemed such a desperate chance, and yet, under the circumstances,
something had to be done.
"You are a brave boy, Jack," said Mcclure finally, springing forward
and grasping the hand of his aide. "If you are willing I'll let you
do it, for, under the circumstances, we are forced to resort to some
heroic measures. God bless you, lad! And now let react quickly."
In short order the entire party repaired to the torpedo room forward
where Jack was to attempt his hazardous experiment. Taking off his
coat and shoes, which he fastened around his neck, Jack stood ready
for the ordeal. Mike Mowrey had opened the upper port chamber and
with the aid of his crew run out the torpedo that had been placed
therein ready for firing. All was in readiness for the youth to crawl
through the breech cap and stretch himself out like a human torpedo.
Lieutenant Mcclure was sure that the prow of the _Dewey_ lay free
of the sand bar on which the vessel was poised, and that there was
no obstruction in front of the bowcap. But to make doubly sure he
ordered the discharge of a torpedo from the lower starboard chamber.
It left the bowcap free and with full power, giving assurance that
no obstacle intervened beyond the mouth of the torpedo tubes.
Jack saluted his lieutenant, signifying his readiness to go.
"So longs Ted!" was his jaunty sally as he turned for an instant to
his old Brighton chum. For a few seconds the two boys gazed full
into each other's eyes, their hands clasped in a farewell.
"Good luck to you, old man!" said Ted, with a gulp in his throat.
"All ready now!" smiled Jack, as he turned first to his commander and
then inserted his head in the mouth of the torpedo tube, motioning
with his hands for his comrades to thrust him into the chamber.