THE MESSAGE OF TERROR
"Is it a hit, do you think?" gasped Jack.
"I think--" began the naval officer.
Boom! It came suddenly, sullenly. A column of spray shot up between
the two mast-stumps of the derelict. The rising water reached a height
of eighty or ninety feet, then came down again like a heavy rain.
But the wreck itself?
One of the mast-stumps tottered, then the other. In an instant more
nothing of the derelict was to be seen, saving some floating wreckage
made up of less water-logged wood.
"A fair hit, I'll wager my commission!" cried Danvers, eagerly.
"Yes," nodded Jacob Farnum. "That's the last of the derelict. She's
removed from the paths of navigation."
There could be no doubt of the completeness of the work done by the
torpedo from the "Hastings." A broad grin now appeared on the
shipbuilder's lately white face.
"Mr. Farnum, will you tell Hal, whenever he thinks best, to slow down to
mere headway?"
"Aye, aye, Captain," sang the shipbuilder, jovially, and disappeared
from view.
"Benson, I congratulate you on your nerve," spoke Lieutenant Danvers, as
he turned, his eyes glowing, to the youthful submarine commander.
"I don't know as I deserve that good word," muttered Jack, slowly,
shaking his head. "It was win or die with us."
"I realize that."
"And I took a big chance of blowing our engines out."
"I thought so, at the time."
"Then, Lieutenant, you must realize that I risked your life, as well
as ours."
"I knew it," nodded Danvers, coolly.
Then he rested a hand half affectionately on young Benson's nearer
shoulder.
"My boy, what is risking a life or two, when there's such a prize to
win--such a naval lesson to be learned and taught? American naval
history is full of the names of officers and men who have thrown away
their lives in learning something new for the benefit of the service."
"I like that way of putting it," replied Captain Jack, though he spoke
soberly. "I had a notion I was pretty wicked when I took such chances."
"It would have been criminal, if it hadn't been your purpose to show
what a craft of this type can do when pushed in emergencies. But I have
learned much to-day that will stand me in great stead, should I ever be
in command of a flotilla of submarines in war time."
"Then I suppose I ought to forgive myself for my recklessness," laughed
Jack.
"You want to forget it, Benson. The thing you want to remember is that
men who serve in navies sign their lives away when they enter the
service. All must be sacrificed, at the first instant of need, to the
service and to the Flag!"
"That idea would frighten some mothers, wouldn't it?" smiled Captain
Jack Benson.
"Fighting battles is not a woman's business," replied Danvers, soberly
and reverently. "Her task is to rear sons who shall be unafraid, and
to leave the rest to the God of Battles."
The "Hastings" now drifted so lazily over the waters that Eph stood by
the wheel, one hand resting indolently against the uppermost spokes.
The "Thor" had headed off, after watching the explosion of the torpedo,
and was now considerably off the "Hastings's" port beam. The "Oakland,"
on the other hand, was heading up for an official view of what wasn't
there in the shape of a derelict.
As she came in close the gunboat sounded three long, hoarse whistles.
"There are your congratulations from the board, Benson," laughed the
naval lieutenant, then walked over to port. Jacob Farnum slipped out
on the platform deck to hear any hail that might come from Uncle Sam's
gunboat.
Danvers was no longer interested in the scene. Whatever was to come, he
felt, would be tame compared with what he had recently seen.
So he stood, looking out dreamily over the waters at port. He saw the
"Thor" head for the "Hastings," as though intending to come up. Then
she veered off, heading eastward. At this instant the naval officer
happened to have his glass to his eyes. He had just counted the number
of people in sight on the Rhinds craft.
"All but one of the Rhinds crowd on deck," thought Mr. Danvers. "I
don't make out that fellow, Radwin. He must be taking the engine trick."
Jack Benson also sauntered over to port side, though not with any
intention of addressing the naval officer. Benson was not thinking of
anything in particular as he glanced out over the waves.
Then, all of a sudden, the young submarine commander sprang alert with
suspicion--next, certainty and horror!
Out there on the water something was moving--something headed toward
the "Hastings." It came on with a swift, cleaving movement. There was
a suspicion of a fin throwing up a little spray in the path of motion.
It was horrible--unbelievable!
The mere suspicion galvanized him into action.
Captain Jack's feet barely seemed to touch the deck as he leaped forward.
Eph was at the wheel, but there was no time to shout a frenzied order
that might be misunderstood.
Besides, in the instant that he was in the air, young Benson had no
sharply defined plan of what he was going to do.
But that fin over to port was the half-visible upper part of a moving
torpedo! It was headed so as to intercept the "Hastings" on her slow,
forward course.
If he rang for speed ahead, Captain Jack knew it might not come swiftly
enough to carry his boat and its human load ahead to safety.
In any case, it must be a job of seconds. If Hal responded slowly to
the signal--then destruction!
All this seemed to flash like lightning through the young commander's
head as he made that leap for the wheel.
Somers being in the way, young Benson flung him violently aside.
Captain Jack's left hand grasped a spoke of the steering wheel; his
right hand signaled violently for speed astern.
Would Hal respond in time to save them all?