IN THE WIRELESS STATION
In less time than it takes to tell, Jack was bundled into the long
steel case, his arms stretched over his head well forward toward the
bowcap. So tightly was he wedged in the aperture that his shoulders
rubbed against both sides of the tube. Before climbing into the
chamber he had hastily crammed a handful of waste inside his hat to
act as a cushion for the water pressure against his skull that would
be inevitable once his body was thrust out into the sea.
"Are you all ready, Mr. Hammond?" called his commander as he bent over
the mouth of the breech cap and reached forward to give the boy a
friendly tug at one foot.
"All ready, sir," answered Jack.
The breech cap was swung shut and Jack could hear the click of the
mechanism as he was locked in by his comrades and they prepared to
shoot their human torpedo out of the sunken submarine.
Now he was completely isolated in the dark, cold tube. The voices
of his companions were not audible. It was a time to test the nerve
of the most callous individual.
Whis-s-s-h! The compressed air came hurtling into the tube with a roar
as of a mighty Niagara. It enveloped him and seemed pressing against
his body like many tons of steel. Instinctively the lad inhaled
deeply and gritted his teeth.
In another moment the bowcap was swung open and then came a rush of air
that shot him forward at a dizzy velocity. As though driven by the
force of a thousand tornadoes the boy felt himself, catapulted out of
the tube and into the cold salt water that closed around him like a
great wall.
His senses reeled and his brain was numbed by the terrible roaring that
pounded in his ears. But he had the will to live and he began his fight.
He brought his legs into play and swam upward furiously. Would he
ever get there? It seemed an eternity as he battled through the mass
of the sea. His arms and legs were getting numb now; his lungs seemed
torn to shreds and his head throbbed with intense pain.
And then, when he was almost lapsing into unconsciousness, his head
shot up out of the waves, and the boy realized that he had reached
the crest of the mountain of water!
For a moment Jack felt paralyzed in every muscle. Then, as he breathed
again the cold pure air of the outside world, his senses came struggling
back through the haze into which he had felt himself drifting and he
was invigorated again. With a great effort the boy turned over on his
back with his face to the sky and floated luxuriously, with arms and
legs limp on the surface of the water.
Resting thus for a time, he turned finally and struck out with a bold
stroke, determined at once to make note of his position. It all came
back to him in a flash---the unknown ship that Sammy Smith had heard
working its way up along the coast.
Was it near? Was it friend or enemy? Would he be seen?
Jack lifted his head and scanned the horizon. It was early morning
and dawn was breaking out of the sky. The first thing that attracted
his attention was a heavy pall of smoke that hung over the water. The
sea was rough.
Carried up on the crest of a wave he beheld the ship that the microphone
had discovered for him in the wireless room. It was now a long way
past the spot where the _Dewey_ lay submerged and had passed northward,
several hundred yards nearer the coast. Carried fifty or a hundred
feet forward through the water by the force of the expulsion from
the torpedo tube, the youth had emerged in the widened wake of the
vessel. Apparently it was a German warship returning to its base
in Wilhelmshaven after a night raid off Dunkirk or Ostend. It was
hugging the coast fortifications now for protection.
Floating alone in the ocean, a mere speck in the water, Jack turned
toward land. It was his only salvation now.
Tearing off his hat and with it the wet waste he had inserted as a
cushion for his head, he struck out with long bold strokes. The fresh
air and the salt water invigorated him wonderfully after the long
confinement in the stifling atmosphere of the _Dewey_.
As he swam he thought of the boys back there in Uncle Sam's submersible
and how they, too, would be negotiating this same swim very
shortly---provided they escaped as safely as he had.
Before his mind flashed also the picture of what might happen to him
when at last his feet would strike bottom and he would make his way
through the surf to shore. He knew full well that practically all of
the Belgian seafront was held by the Germans. It was not likely he
could go very far without encountering a Hun coast patrol. But he
reserved to make the best of the situation and trust to luck.
After a hard swim he found himself in the surf and then his feet
touched bottom and he made his way shoreward through the breakers.
Fatigued by the trip, he threw himself down on the sand, puffing
and blowing from the effects of his fight in the water.
As he rested, he heard the murmur of a skyplane's motors and turned
to behold a giant Gotha machine heading up the coast. Stretching
himself out quickly, as though to simulate the posture of a drowned
man cast up by the waves, he lay wide-eyed watching the German birdman.
Undoubtedly, it was one of the aerial coast patrol.
Five hundred feet above, it lazily floated along. It came closer and
closer, finally flying almost directly overhead. With bated breath
the boy on the sand waited for its passage and heaved a great sigh of
relief as it purred onward in the direction of Blankenberghe without
giving any indication as to whether its pilot had noted the body on
the sand below.
Jack scrambled to his feet.
"Might as well find out what's doing here," he muttered to himself.
He peeled off his wet clothes. One at a time he wrung out his
garments and shook the water out of his long black hair. Then he
turned for a glance around him. In front of him loomed the sand
dunes, their weird shifting formations dotted here and there with
scraggly underbrush. Down the coast the picture was the same.
Turning, the lad gazed northward in the general direction where he
knew lay Holland and her neutral shores.
"That's where I go from here," he said cheerfully.
He had jogged along not more than a quarter of a mile when the coast
line veered sharply to right, leaving only the expanse of ocean
looming up beyond the stretch of sandy beach. Following along the
curve in the coast line, Jack found himself presently on the shore
of a small land-locked bay. The mouth of the inlet was barely wide
enough to permit the passage of a good-sized vessel.
But neither ship nor human being was in sight.
"Might be one of the secret passageways used by the undersea boats,"
Jack mused as he followed the curving line of the bay away from the
ocean.
Presently he came to an abrupt halt at a break in the beach where
the rolling sand dunes fell sheer away to the mouth of another
waterway---this time a small stream that wound its way inland through
a tortuous channel. It was no more than two hundred feet across.
Jack realized this must be one of the canals with which the coast
was known to be ribboned. For a moment he stood in contemplation
of the sight. Now he was more than ever convinced that he had
stumbled into a U-boat base. The love of adventure gripped him and
he determined to press on.
For the next ten minutes he threaded his way along the canal bank.
Suddenly, as he turned one of the snake-like twists in the course of
the waterway, he found himself facing an old stone windmill that stood
almost directly on the canal bank. It was only a stone's throw away.
Instinctively the boy threw himself upon the sandy loam. There was
not a sign of life about the abandoned structure. In the peaceful
days before the war it had, no doubt, been used by a Belgian farmer
to water his fields.
But now Jack saw something that set his heart a-flutter. From the
dome-like crest of the windmill stretched a number of wires tautly
drawn and leading away to some point beyond his range of view. For
a moment he contemplated the scene in silence with tingling nerves.
Satisfied at last that his presence was not yet known---if any human
being was within the stone tower---he struggled up to a kneeling
position and looked beyond the windmill.
What he saw now was a ramshackle farmhouse apparently deserted. Up
the side of the dilapidated building ran a great wide stone chimney
that reared its head through the gabled roof like a leaning Tower of
Pisa. To this chimney led the wires from the windmill.
"A secret wireless station!" exclaimed Jack to himself. "Undoubtedly
in the hands of the Germans and being used by them in the direction
of their U-boat fleets in the North Sea!" The boy's pulses quickened
at the thought.
Like an Indian on the trail he wormed his way forward until he came
at last within ten feet of the windmill. There was a window before
him. Slowly and cautiously he drew himself up to one side of the
casement and then peered in through the latticed shutter.
At a table, on which was spread out the wireless apparatus, was a
uniformed figure. A helmet lay on the floor and the man's head was
bowed in his arms. He was asleep. A lantern hung on the wall toward
the canal side and cast a dim flicker over the cramped interior of
the place. Stretching himself up on tiptoe, Jack surveyed the room,
but noted not another person in sight.
Quick as a flash the lad withdrew from the window. His plan of action
now was clear. He must get control of that wireless key and flash a
message to the United States fleet in the North Sea!
Stealthily he began to circle the stone structure. Momentarily he
expected to hear the challenge of a sentry; but he was not molested.
In a few moments his foot touched a large flat stone step before a
half closed doorway through which the light of the lantern cast its
flickering rays. Jack looked about him for a weapon of some kind
and noted a long piece of two-by-four that apparently had been used
to prop open the door of the wireless station. Stooping over he drew
the club toward him and then turned to face the door and the danger
that lay beyond it.
Fearlessly but with the lithe movement of the crafty panther Jack
stepped across the threshold. As he did so the German wireless
operator stirred in his sleep, lifted his head and gazed full upon
the American youth. With a snarl of rage and a muttered curse the
burly Teuton sprang to his feet and reached for a heavy revolver
that lay on the table.
But Jack was too quick for him. With a long leap forward and a
smashing blow he brought the heavy stick of wood down upon the head
of the surprised operator. The German sank in his chair and slipped
to the floor, the revolver rolling off the table with a loud clatter.
Pausing only long enough to note that his captive was completely
knocked out by the blow, the Yankee lad sprang to the wireless and
opened the key. Now he was grateful for the wireless instruction
good old Sammy Smith had given him back there on the _Dewey_.
"Z-z-z-z-z-z!" the wires snapped with their message, as he flashed
forth the code call of the United States fleet.
Would he be heard? Was there any vessel within range that would
pick up his random call. For five minutes the boy rattled away
and then closed the key to listen. What was his joy to get an almost
immediate response. It was the U.S.S. _Farragut_, a destroyer,
reporting her position and asking what was wanted.
In rapid-fire reply Jack related the sinking of the _Dewey_, gave her
latitude and longitude, and urged immediate assistance.
"But where in the world are you sending your radio message from?" came
the query out of the sky.
"In a German wireless station on the Belgian coast just about six miles
south-----"
But the message was never finished, for at that moment Jack heard a
slight movement behind him and turned to look into the revolver of a
bulky German who, in broken English, commanded the American to surrender!