THE NIGHT LANDING OF THE SCOUTS.
Another day saw the scouts feeling more like seasoned veterans. The
motion of the vessel no longer had any terrors for the weakest among
them, even though it chanced that in the afternoon the ocean began to
get so rough that the boat fairly wallowed in the seas.
Luckily the commander had chosen to select the morning hours for the
torpedo-launching practice, and it proved of considerable interest to
the boys. They were on hand to see everything that was done, and they
did not hesitate to ask many questions readily answered by the young men
who made up the Reserve crew.
Hugh had cautioned the others to try and make good friends of the men
who temporarily manned the _Vixen_, the vessel having been given
completely over into their charge for the entire two weeks. This bore
good fruit, and the wearers of the khaki suits had become prime
favorites at every mess. Indeed, they were known to have already had
considerable experience for boys, and of course it took very little
urging to coax any one of them to relate some of the things that had
come their way in the past, with which most of our readers are already
familiar.
All of the scouts were really glad when night again set in, with half a
gale blowing and the cruiser heading for an anchorage in a certain
harbor.
“If this keeps up to-morrow, good-bye to our hopes of being set ashore
on the coast,” Alec told several of the others as they gathered around
some of the crew who were bent on having a pleasant evening, discipline
having been relaxed for a spell in order to ease the strain under which
they were laboring.
“Yes,” added Walter, “because they couldn’t take chances of launching a
boat to land us without danger of a capsize in the surf. It’s nice and
quiet back of this point, but you can hear the sea smashing up against
the rocks out there right along.”
“But there’s no storm coming because Hugh told me he saw the barometer,
and it reads well up to thirty, which means fair weather, though windy,”
Don Miller went on to say, and the information brought fresh hope to the
rest.
“Like as not the breeze will have gone down more or less before night
sets in again,” Blake Merton gave as his opinion, though of course it
was mere guesswork, as he did not pretend to be a weather prophet, and
knew nothing, about the signs on the sea, even if he were something of a
woodsman ashore.
“That’s a fact,” Alec remarked. “We don’t land till long after dark, I
understand. So there’s plenty of time for it to quiet down.”
“And to-morrow Hugh says the commander promised that he’d give a try to
see if our Arthur can be reached by wireless,” Billy announced with
considerable pride. He had at various times assisted Arthur in
perfecting his station on the crown of Cedar Hill, and Billy had some
sort of proprietary rights in the wireless.
“Well, for the honor of the troop I certainly hope they get in touch
with Arthur,” Alec observed. He showed signs of envy and jealousy at
times, but when his old nature got the upper hand of him, the leader of
the Otters was really proud of the organization to which he belonged,
and would exert himself manfully in order to reflect credit on the name
of a scout.
“More than that, Hugh says,” Billy went on, seeming to have been
delegated to act as the mouthpiece of the scout master in order to
convey all this important news. “The captain promised him that if we did
our part of the landing game all right, he’d allow us to have half an
hour’s talk with our comrade at home every day that the wireless could
be used. So that’s a spur to make us try to do our best, fellows, to spy
on the fort defenders, and get the information aboard without making
mistakes.”
“Yes,” added Don, “and we ought to go into this business seriously, too.
No careless handling of messages will pass when so much depends on
accuracy. Every fellow must be up on his toes, and bent on doing his
level best.”
“You are right there, Don,” echoed Blake Merton. “We want to show these
Reserve men that scouts can do things right up to the handle. Our signal
corps work was always first class. Just now I kind of wish we had Bud
Morgan along, because he worked with a surveying party, too, you
remember, and is familiar with the business.”
“Oh! don’t let that bother you any,” Alec told him jauntily. “There are
others besides Bud Morgan who know the ins and outs of wigwag work,
telegraphing, and the use of the mirror in the sun that we call
heliographing. Why, there isn’t a fellow in our bunch aboard this boat
but who can stand his spell with the flags, and make mighty few
blunders, too.”
“Thank you, Alec, for the taffy,” chuckled Billy, “but we ought to be up
in that sort of work. Goodness knows, we’ve practiced it enough. Hi!
Blake, they’re calling for you to take your turn with a song. Somebody
must have given them a tip that you’ve got Caruso beaten to a frazzle
with that fine tenor voice you own. So step forward and remember to do
the troop proud every time.”
Blake Merton certainly did have a good voice, and while somewhat bashful
about singing in the midst of such a large company of young fellows, he
soon got over his timidity. Indeed, they gave him so warm an ovation
after he had sung once that he arose to the occasion, and from that time
on became the most popular scout aboard the _Vixen_. His services were
called for to entertain the crew every night after discipline had been
relaxed while they sat around on deck enjoying the salty breeze.
To these boys from inland there was no end to the new sights and sounds
of their first trip afloat on the briny sea. They enjoyed taking a
salt-water bath whenever the opportunity arose, drank in the wonderful
sight of the seemingly endless ocean bounded by the horizon, often on
all sides, and in every way possible sought to get the utmost enjoyment
from this novel experience.
It was still pretty rough outside the next morning, and the _Vixen_
remained comfortably anchored behind the point. There were numerous
things to be done that could be carried out just as well there as at
sea. Besides, the fort against which the Naval Reserve men had designs
was not a great distance up the coast, so that the plans of the
commander called for caution at this point in the war game.
It was a rather exciting time for the scouts when they gathered around
the wireless operator, and watched him call the station of Cedar Hill.
It was just at ten o’clock, the time Arthur had promised to be on hand
every single day that it was not storming wildly.
There was more or less vain calling, and things began to look pretty
blue when all at once there came a response. Every scout knew that some
one was replying to the groping signal that the operator had sent out
through space; and they only hoped that it might be their comrade a
hundred miles away.
Presently the young operator looked up toward Hugh and said:
“Well, Old Brutus was poisoned last night by some mean party unknown!”
Now every fellow there knew just as well as anything that the old and
faithful watchdog owned by the Cameron family was named Brutus; and this
little piece of home news convinced them as nothing else could have done
that they were in communication with Arthur perched up there at his
station on dear old Cedar Hill.
To most of the boys this method of sending messages was a complete
mystery, but there were several who had dabbled more or less in
wireless, as some boys have a habit of wanting to know everything that
comes along.
The operator was already aware that Hugh could send and receive messages
after a fashion; he had talked with the scout master on several
occasions, and even showed him many little things connected with this
special outfit aboard the _Vixen_.
“He wants to know how you are all getting on,” the obliging operator
remarked presently after another series of flashes and crackling had
announced the receipt of another message. “Suppose you tell him
yourself, Mr. Scout Master?”
So Hugh sat down, and with trembling hands transmitted his answer, the
regular operator gladly assisting him. The boy’s confidence returned
when he found that he was easily able to catch the strange dots and
dashes as utilized in wireless work, and could even send a short message
to far-away Arthur to the effect that they were all well.
He meant to make use of the code which had been arranged with Arthur
should he have other opportunities to converse, which seemed likely.
Then Alec asked for the privilege of exchanging a few words with Arthur,
because he would never have been happy to have missed the glorious
chance of saying he had once talked from a war vessel over a hundred
miles away from the home town with the scout who had made his own
wireless station.
The boys were allowed shore leave after the noon hour, being cautioned
not to go out of sight of the boat. They were liable to be signaled to
come aboard almost at any minute, should the commander decide to steam
out of the harbor and continue the northward cruise. And with the
recollection of what stirring times were ahead of them, there was little
danger of any scout wandering off. Indeed, all they really did ashore
was to roam the beach, wade in the shallows, hunt for pretty sea shells,
and keep one eye anxiously fastened on the anchored _Vixen_, so as to
discover the very first signal that would be hoisted to tell the boys to
come aboard at once.
The night promised to be fairly dark, at least sufficiently so to cover
the landing of the scouts from the cruiser. At three o’clock the anchor
came up, and they steamed slowly out of the snug harbor to find that the
sea had gone down, and nothing seemed to be in the way of making a
successful landing when the proper time had arrived.
Hugh talked the whole thing over again with the captain, and received
his final instructions. The scouts were each given some food to be taken
along, since it was possible they might have to remain ashore until the
storming party was put off to creep up the beach and try to surprise the
garrison, who were constantly on the watch for signs of the enemy in
either direction.
Charts of the coast had been shown the boys, and Hugh even made a rude
map for his own guidance so that if in doubt he might consult it and
shape his plans accordingly.
Again darkness came, with a young moon hanging in the western heavens.
It would not set until about ten o’clock; and preparations had been made
for sending a boat ashore soon after that hour containing all the scouts
save Blake Merton, whom Hugh had finally selected as the receiving end
of the signal chain because he was especially clever at this particular
work.
When they dropped down over the side and huddled in the boat, the scouts
felt their hearts beating much faster than ordinarily. Of course it
might have been somewhat more exciting had there been a real enemy to be
spied on instead of just a make-believe one, but for all that the
sensation of having the success or failure of the whole maneuver
depending on their work gave each boy a feeling of vast importance.
Almost noiselessly the oars dipped into the water, and they headed for
the shore not more than a quarter of a mile away from where the cruiser
was anchored. Finally through the darkness they could begin to
distinguish objects faintly as the trees were outlined against the sky.
Then they entered the gentle surf, and presently the keel of the boat
ran up on the sand.
“Steady now, and no hurrying!” warned Hugh softly. The six other scouts
proceeded to clamber out of the boat as silently as they could, after
which it put back to where the one light aboard the _Vixen_ showed her
anchorage.
“Now for a tramp along the beach of a couple of miles,” said Hugh, “and
remember there’s to be no talking above a whisper. I understand that the
defenders of the fort may have men out on the watch. Forward now, and
move along like ghosts.”