A SUBMARINE FLIES A FLAG OF TRUCE
Furiously Carl waved his white flag, Every eye was fastened on
the distant shape. A cry went up from the men in the little boat.
"They see us--they see us!"
They renewed their rowing with all their remaining strength, as
though the great ship laying to in the distance might suddenly
start away.
But instead they saw a couple of boats put off--motor-boats that
cut their way furiously through the water and soon reached them.
A word of explanation from the Captain of the Firefly to the
young officer in charge of the motor-boat, and they were taken in
tow, while the exhausted oarsmen leaned heavily on their oars,
and every heart sent up a prayer of thanksgiving.
The transport was the one they had been trying to overtake, and
Colonel Bright's own men met him with cheers and sobs as he was
assisted on deck. He and the others were hurried below where
they were put under the care of the ship's doctor.
A search now began for the remaining boats. It was not until
just before dark that the powerful glasses in the hands of one of
the lookout men discovered some small specks far to starboard.
It was the missing boats. As soon as they, with their loads of
suffering men, had been taken on board, the transport and her
convoys, wrapped in darkness, plunged forward through the
gathering night.
They were approaching the danger zone.
The following day, the Colonel was himself again. He had been
too long a soldier to let the loss of the two boys, dear as they
were, completely crush him. They were lost; it was the fortune
of war. They were lost as thousands of other young, splendid
fellows had been lost; and although the Colonel could scarcely
bear to think of the grief of the poor mother back home when she
should learn of the loss of her two idolized sons, he put the
picture behind him. Here was a transport full of men, his own
command largely, and a deep anxiety beset him when he looked over
the sea, searching its surface for a glimpse of a telltale
periscope.
He fell to watching the convoys with their bristling guns and the
intricate tackle used in this modern game of war at sea. They
looked capable, every inch of them, and deadly in their
efficiency. Yet occasionally the deadly U-boat claimed one of
these as a victim. Once more his eyes roved over the big
transport.
It was packed and jammed with men. They were quartered in every
possible place. Happy, jolly fellows, full of the finest courage
in the world, ready for anything, eager for the next adventure,
meeting victory with modesty, accepting disaster with a smile.
The rails on each side of the ship were lined with men watching,
watching like himself, yet with a difference.
The Colonel smiled as he guessed the eagerness with which they
hoped for a sight of a submarine. Not a man of them there wanted
to drown, but he wanted to see a sub, and with the hopefulness of
his character he felt that the chances were good for getting away
before any damage was done.
Still thinking of the boys he had loved so well, he leaned once
more over the rail, his sad blue eyes searching the sea. Waves
and sky; waves and sky; a gull in the distance but nothing else.
For an hour he stood there thinking, forgetful of his promise to
go below, staring about, searching the vastness for a sign of the
danger that lurked everywhere, the terrible U-boats; but he
looked and saw nothing. Another night passed but as the day
dawned, a sudden warning call sounded through the ship, and
peering through his porthole, the Colonel saw the long, slim
shape of a torpedo whizzing toward the great ship. It was badly
aimed and as it passed harmlessly on, a thunder of guns shattered
the peace of the morning. The Colonel rushed on deck. As he did
so, he saw the turret of a U-boat between the transport and her
nearest convoy sink out of sight. Again the guns spoke as the
boat went down. The periscope of the sub wavered and leaned far
out of true. Another torpedo cut the water and struck the
transport a glancing blow, doing but little damage. The two
convoys were now busy with another U-boat that had attacked them.
One of the convoys, a destroyer of the latest and finest type,
threw a smoke screen between the U-boat and the transport, but
the U-boat, evidently under orders to get the transport with its
crowds of men at any cost, came to the surface in the midst of
the smoke and, using the screen to her own advantage, slipped
close to the transport. As she did so there was another clamor
of guns from both the convoys. The Colonel could not see the
result of the firing. The guns on the transport were aimed at
the nearest U-boat which had come so, close to her intended
victim. She lay on the surface, and one torpedo and then another
shot from her firing tubes. The fire from the transport missed
her again.
The torpedoes seemed possessed. Instead of holding the straight
line that would have doomed the great ship to certain destruction,
they skipped here and there. One of them turned and narrowly
missed the U-boat which was now apparently making an effort to
submerge. So strangely did the boat act that the gunner hesitated
as he was about to give the order to fire.
No other torpedo was sent out, and the submarine kept to the
surface, swinging slowly.
"She must be badly crippled," said the Captain to Colonel Bright,
who stood beside him on the bridge. He gave the order to an
officer to open fire on the boat.
As the men leaped to their guns, a strange thing happened. The
hatch on the submarine opened, and a man leaped out to the deck.
He waved a white flag.
"No good!" said the Captain. "That's been done before. I won't
risk one of my boat crews over there."
"You can't shoot at a flag of truce," said the Colonel hastily.
"You have to in warfare like this," said the Captain bitterly.
The figure on the U-boat, looking very small in the distance,
continued to wave his flag. The Captain nodded to the commander
of the gun crew on the nearest turret. The gun leaped into
position. At that instant the figure on the reeling submarine
whipped a small flag from his pocket and flourished it beside the
other. The officers and men on board the transport gasped.
It was an American flag!
Yes, there on a German submarine a solitary figure was waving
aloft the Stars and Stripes.
The Captain uttered an exclamation of amazement, and shook his
head at the gun crew. Almost at once a couple of motor-boats,
filled with armed men, shot from the transport and raced over the
rough sea to the rolling sub.
"We will soon know what all this is about," said Captain Greene.
"Come down while I prepare a wireless."
The two Captains and the Colonel went below, while the men
crowded the rail and watched the boats, now at the side of the
distant submarine. It was a long time before they started back.
The men could see that they were loading the boats with something
that looked like rolls of cloth. Finally they returned.
The officers, coming back to the decks, were greeted by volleys
of deafening cheers, boots, calls, laughter. Every man who could
got near the railing was there. They were packed solidly,
looking down at the boats below. Those who could not reach a
point of vantage swung up on their companions' shoulders.
Everybody hooted and laughed. Presently there was a break in
the line, and four strapping sailors made their way through with
a burden which they laid none too gently on the deck. Another
and another, and still they came, until at the Captain's feet
there was a row of fourteen unconscious figures, wound and
strapped with rope until they resembled mummies. Captain Greene
bent closely above the figures. Two of them wore the uniform of
German officers; but one and all were unconscious, and tightly
roped.
"What does this mean?" demanded Captain Greene. He looked up
just as a stifled cry came from the Captain of the Firefly. On
the other side of him, Colonel Bright staggered and would have
fallen, had not a friendly hand steadied him. He as well as the
Captain of the Firefly were staring with bulging eyes at the
figure that was just emerging from the crowd at the rail. As
they stared, apparently unable to speak, another figure joined
the first.
Covered with dirt, unkempt, dressed in what seemed to be cast-off
fragments of all the uniforms under the sun, the two figures
stood looking around with broad grins, on their pale and smudgy
faces.
A bloody bandage half hid the face of one of them, the other
nursed a hand bundled in rough, soiled cloths.
Colonel Bright tried to speak. Words failed him. He gulped
feebly, and waved a hand at the apparitions. They stepped
forward and wearily saluted.
"Yes, Sir, it's us!" said the scarecrow with the bandage.
Porky and Beany had come back!