All that night the pumps driven by the engines of the _Anti-Kaiser_
worked with unerring certainty, and appeared to feel the important
work; every exhaust, powerful and distinct, pronouncing a new life, a
new ambition, a wonderful achievement for Fighting Howard Byng.
After daylight we could visualize results. Below we could easily
distinguish what seemed a rather nebulous, long, dark shadow in the
sea. Howard went down and found that the U-boat was raising at the
rate of a foot per hour, and a total of sixty hours would be required
before it would reach the surface.
Now new troubles threatened. The weather that had so graciously
favored us for almost a week looked ominous. Howard, who knew all
about Gulf weather, scanned the sky and shook his head.
"I believe we are in for it. But the way we're anchored now our bow is
all right. It's going to come from out there," he said, pointing
toward the northwest.
Another anchor was carried out and every precaution taken while the
pumps still chugged with perfect rhythm, and gloriously labored toward
the goal for which we prayed. The U-boat now hung in suspension in the
clear Gulf water, and was slowly but surely raising to our will, but
should the hose connection break, having no check valve, it would
immediately fill and sink. Everyone was alert and strained for the
emergency. Additional hawsers lashed it fore and aft to the
_Anti-Kaiser_ to guard against being shifted by submarine currents
that mysteriously form during storms.
It finally came, a veritable hurricane, lasting, fortunately, only
about five hours. Wind sixty miles per hour brought solid sheets of
water, twisting and undulating as if to wreak vengeance and try our
hearts.
During the storm Howard moved about constantly, solemn and determined,
examining every detail, forcing the pumps to unflinching performance
by sheer power of his adamant will though the storm raged.
I do actually believe machinery, commonly thought to be inanimate,
answers to a strong will, literally driven to good behavior and
specific performance by the silent, fierce, compelling determination
and psychic force of the man in control. Locomotives are especially so
sensitive, proven by thousands of authentic instances.
Scotty, like the perfectly trained naval mariner, also defied the
storm and for no moment ceased his patrol on the deck, peering for
dangers approaching through the angry whirling sheets.
The sea calmed, as did our nervous strain, without a mishap, and the
work of the pumps went merrily on, at no time halting a part of a
second, as if defying the elements to defeat them in their patriotic
and useful purpose.
Near sundown Howard wanted to descend and examine the wreck at close
range. I began on the hand air-pump again which had to move with the
precision and regularity of respiration. It would become tiresome if
one did not know that such rhythm were necessary to a human life
below. In this case I believed a most wonderful life.
He stayed down a long time, but when he came up he was more exultant
and jubilant than ever before.
"Wood, in the better light I have been examining her hull for breaks,
both inside and outside, and for the life of me I can find nothing
wrong. I believe the bombs simply put their air or water pumps out of
commission. That's why they were trapped down there. She is raising
now on an almost even keel. She is ours, Wood; she is ours, and she
will float as good as ever when the water is all out!" he urged with
the vehemence of a man who was told he could live and return to a
congenial sphere into the great world of usefulness with his name
again. A name and fortune for little Jim, whom he loved so consumingly
and singly that she was a part of him--his blood, his child, his chum
and companion.
His enthusiasm was contagious; I got it. Besides, I exulted on my own
account. To bring such tangible evidence into a court of law and the
world's tribunal of such stupendous importance raised my operations to
a magnitude unequaled, and must without effort attract attention of
"The All Highest." I had developed from two warrants for minor
offenses a matter in which the whole world was intensely interested.
With these ruminations came the thought of safety. We had the Hun
boat. We could see it. Another day and its conning tower would be out,
and another ought to enable us to tow her away. And we were
insufficiently protected.
"Howard, we must not depend on the protection of the guns on this
boat. Too much is at stake. We should have a patrol that will prevent
any boat or vessel coming within at least three miles. The _Titian_ is
too small. Your _Sprite_ would be the thing. She is big enough to
mount the five-pound gun to enforce such a limit to all vessels."
"How are we going to get her; she is anchored in the bay at home."
"Can the old darkey, Don, run the _Sprite_, do you think?"
"Yes, almost as well as I can."
"I have been out of touch with Washington now for nearly forty-eight
hours, and should go to Key West to get a line on what is happening.
Suppose I take him in the little _Titian_, call at Canby's, leave him
to bring the _Sprite_, and go on to Key West. I ought to be back here
in three or four hours."
"Fine, but put the juice to the _Titian_; she can fly if you give her
the gas. You're right: we ought to have the _Sprite_ to patrol and
also ought to know what the Boche is up to outside, if anything," he
agreed quickly.
During the night the pumps worked unceasingly with a punch and force,
imparted by Howard's care and vigilance. As the last word in Boche
submarine ships came nearer the surface, he seemed to actually scorn
either sleep or rest and took his food while walking about vigilantly.
He realized it was a supreme moment. Energies he had stored by a
comparatively quiet existence for years he used unstintingly.
Before daylight the next morning I took Don in the _Titian_ to
Canby's, saw him on his way from there with the _Sprite_, then rushed
to Key West and established communication at once with the powers that
be.
I was told that every branch of the Government was intensely
interested in the development which bade fair to uncover craven,
cringing Mexico and many traitorous, treasonable concerns protected by
citizenship, and was enjoined to great care and secrecy.
Then I asked to have at least two marines detached from the special
guard service in Key West for my use as I was short of man power on
which I could depend.
For this they gave the necessary order. They wirelessed me that Ramund
and three others, upon being released on bail, had, after a day or
two, taken an evident underground rail route to Mexico. The Government
agents were out of touch with Washington, owing to difficulties
furnished by Mexican conditions. The Boches were forfeiting their
bail, or up to deviltry, or both.
This bit of information did not please me, for I saw disturbing
possibilities. I picked up the daily papers, mail and the two marines,
and hurried back to the Tortugas, which I reached about noon time by
forcing the _Titian_ to her limit.
The marines were lusty fellows, full of ginger. Yes, they both had had
target gun practice. I was glad of that.
The five-pound gun was quickly transferred to the deck of Howard's
_Sprite_. We put Scotty, who, of course, was an expert with
motor-driven boats, and one of the marines aboard her with
instructions to encircle constantly our operations, at a three-mile
limit, to use the gun to prevent vessels of any character approaching
us. The other marine was put in Scotty's place on the _Anti-Kaiser_
and I felt pretty safe. So did Howard.
Wonderful progress was made while I was away. The conning tower was
all out and the oval back of the submarine was awash. Howard was
haggard, but walking on air. He had calculated that before night the
submerging tanks would be empty, then we could transfer the pumps to
the engine-room and crew's quarters aft. It wouldn't take long to make
her fit for towing.
About dusk Scotty came in for food, and said he would be willing to
stay out on the _Sprite_ patrolling until midnight, and then, if
relieved for four hours, would resume.
Just before dark Howard did transfer the pump to the after hold, the
engine-room and crew's quarters and it began throwing a merry stream,
every throb bringing us nearer the end of our task and goal.
I tried to get Howard to sleep some, but he only laughed.
"When we are through I will have months to sleep."
I did not tell him what a filthy condition existed in Mexico, and how
long it would be before we would be compelled to put the cleaner on
her. She was pro-Hun to the core and somehow I did not like the fact
that Ramund was there now and only a day or two sail from us.
Darkness had set in with a cloudy sky. Everything went well until
about time for Scotty to report at midnight when the marine on guard
saw something over the port bow; it looked like a vessel coming,
without lights.
"What do you think it is?" Howard asked anxiously.
"I can't make out but it's something and it's getting plainer. I
wonder where Scotty is with the _Sprite_?" The marine stood at
attention by the side of the one-pounder in the bow. The submarine
was riding easy just clear of the _Anti-Kaiser's_ sides.
We finally recognized the outlines of a vessel advancing, and
apparently a big one, too. It was not moving fast but was surely
approaching, bearing directly down on us. Our port and starboard
lights were surely visible to them and they could certainly see them
in time to clear us.
"What can we do but fire on her? She will be on top of us in another
minute!" shouted Howard, fully alive to the danger.
I called to the marine to let a shot go directly at her, which he did
instantly, then another and another, but the little one-pound shots
apparently made as much impression on her iron bow as water on a
duck's back, and she did not veer a fraction of a point, coming dead
on us. When she got closer I could make out she was undoubtedly a big
merchantman, perhaps eight or ten thousand tons. How I prayed for
Scotty to be here and give her a dose of a five-pound gun. But
seconds counted now, our danger was extreme, and we were wholly
helpless. On she came, moving perhaps at the rate of twelve knots. She
could not possibly keep such a course by mistake for the one-pound gun
made enough noise in the silent midnight Gulf to awaken the dead.
Howard was not excited. He made a step toward the marine waiting for
another order to fire, then stopped and seemed to measure our chances.
He appeared to be taking inventory of the damage the great blunt bow
would do during the few seconds before she struck the _Anti-Kaiser_
wrecking boat a glancing blow forward that brought her over on her
beam's end, snapping the hawsers that fastened us to the submarine, as
through cotton strings or cobwebs.
Howard and the marine grasped the one-pounder to keep from sliding
down the now vertical decks of the _Anti-Kaiser_ into the sea, I being
just as fortunate in getting my arm through a hawser eye.
Her dull black iron sides seemed an age getting out of the way,
leaving the _Anti-Kaiser_ trembling and rocking like a chip on the
white caps.
Both Howard and I rushed to the side to ascertain if possible what was
undoubtedly a deliberate attempt to run us down, murder us and steal
the prize we had labored so long and arduously to raise from the floor
of the sea.
Where was Scotty with the _Sprite_ and five-pound gun? Had he turned
traitor and played into their hands?