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[Illustration: "Unbolt the door!" _Frontispiece_]
Dave Darrin
After The Mine Layers
OR
Hitting the Enemy a Hard
Naval Blow
By
H. IRVING HANCOCK
Author of "Dave Darrin at Vera Cruz," "Dave Darrin on
Mediterranean Service," "Dave Darrin's South American
Cruise," "Dave Darrin on the Asiatic
Station," "Dave Darrin and the
German Submarines,"
etc., etc.
Illustrated
P H I L A D E L P H I A
HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY
HOWARD E. ALTEMUS
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I--WEIGHING ANCHOR FOR THE GREAT CRUISE 11
Dan is a business man. Sea orders in a jiffy. Anchors a-weigh. The
mine-sweepers at work. In the torpedo's path. The Hun that slipped
away. An indignant neutral skipper. "You vill do vat ve you
tell--yes!"
CHAPTER II--"THE ACCURSED POWER OF GOLD!" 30
Dave dares Fate. A new "boss." Secret of the after-hold. Dave is
disgusted. "Vat? Can't proof it you?" Sweeping for more evidence.
The prize crew. The vanishing periscope.
CHAPTER III--A FIGHT OF THE GOOD OLD KIND 41
A fair hit. Distant firing. A real sea fight. The "Grigsby" turns
tail. "Circle!" At deadly close quarters. Dan Dalzell scores. A
stern chase. With the wounded.
CHAPTER IV--WHAT A FLOATING MINE DID 55
The liner in trouble. The flash of a mine. True to his trust.
Seaman Streeter is busy. A deaf jacky. Not present or accounted
for. Rescue work. Dan protests. Dave sets the pace. Out for
sterner work.
CHAPTER V--EYES THAT LOOKED DOWN FROM THE AIR 63
Why the flash was seen. The "blimp" sighted. A question out of the
air. New help. The sea hornet. A narrow squeak. "Laid an egg in
your path." Blimp and limp. Seaman Hedgeby enjoys himself.
"British hot air," and Dave gets a pal's share indeed. The story
of a capture. In deadly peril.
CHAPTER VI--IN THE TEETH OF THE CHANNEL GALE 78
Dave turns real helper. "I thought we were goners!" Making the
grapple again. The day's work of a mine-sweeper. In a boiling sea.
Life lines up. "Commanding officer overboard!"
CHAPTER VII--IN THE HOUR OF DESPAIR 84
The vanishing destroyer. Hope, then despair. The meeting of
searchlights. Fighting pluck. The rope from somewhere. Looped!
"Ugh!" The big sleep. The "Rigsdak." A cowboy Dane.
CHAPTER VIII--DAVE MEETS THE FATE OF THE SEA 95
From the pages of the Arabian Nights. Mr. and Mrs. Launce. The
shattering jar. To the boats! No enemy in sight. The gray tower.
The hail and a bad time of it. Dave stands revealed. A German
prisoner at last!
CHAPTER IX--THREATS TO A PRISONER 103
What the Danes "got." The chorus of terror. The ober-lieutenant
talks. The inquisition. Talk of courtesy. Dave turns stiff. "Where
have I heard that name before?" "Things will go badly with you
when you arrive in Germany!"
CHAPTER X--LIKE THE FRENCH AND ENGLISH 109
Captain Kennor is polite. A look-in at the periscope. "Yankee
meat." Dave is tricky. Shots and a threatened ramming. "You
idiot!" Dave plays for his own finish.
CHAPTER XI--A VICTIM OF COURTESY 115
What of the woman? Mrs. Launce speaks for herself. The game of
cross-bluff. An invitation bluntly refused. The turn of the
prisoners. On the surface. "You are eager for death." The mystery
of the Launces. "You are the Countess of Denby!" "Save your
denials for use before a German court." Dave invited on deck. "You
are a good boaster." Something to interest him.
CHAPTER XII--GERMAN BRUTALITY AT ITS WORST 126
Radio direct to Germany. Could any woman love this fellow? Dave
expresses thanks to the enemy. "My card." The same as confession.
"A pleasant evening for four!" The wild brutes of the sea.
CHAPTER XIII--FACING THE PLANNED DEATH 135
The dropping platform. Adrift! Captain Kennor, sea scout. A
splendid inspiration. A bully for safety. The tantalizing craft. A
glow-worm of the waves. And then--! Like a dream. A bad report.
CHAPTER XIV--DAVE PLEDGES HIS WORD FOR RESULTS 146
Just hospital. A treat for Dave's eyes. Days of bliss. "You little
patriot!" Back to duty. "The Germans are beating us." The council
of war. Dave's campaign map. Planning the Big Hunt. Something
new--results.
CHAPTER XV--DARRIN SUSPECTS THE GERMAN PLAN 155
Sweeping as a fine art. Nosing out the unseen. The "Grigsby"
nearly blown out of the water. A wild Yankee cheer. Touching off a
nest of "sea eggs." The job of the divers. The double find.
Guessing the mine-layers' trick. The "Reed" starts something.
CHAPTER XVI--HITTING CLOSE TO THE SALT TRAIL 164
The non-fighting Huns. A tame capture. Not so tame! What the
search showed. "Spot the stupid ones." Questioning Herr Dull-wit.
The trap that worked. German bad language.
CHAPTER XVII--TRYING OUT THE BIG, NEW PLAN 173
The admiral approves. Off for the real thing. Stirring up a tidal
wave. Knowing how to get the thrills out of life. Trying to run up
the score. The traveller in the haze. A ship of mystery and shots.
CHAPTER XVIII--STRIKING A REAL SURPRISE 183
"Leave the steamship to me." The shot across the bow. A shooting
game for two. "You're dealing with the United States Navy!" Darrin
proves himself. Irons for three. The summons that worked. A tough
lot to handle. Juno of the Cabin. A deadly one, too.
CHAPTER XIX--THE GOOD WORK GOES ON 192
Dave takes a chance. So does Juno. The all-right cargo. Who can
the woman be? Dalzell has a fine report. Story of the sub-hold.
Mother and daughter no longer mysteries. "The best in a
six-month!"
CHAPTER XX--DARRIN TURNS THE TABLES 204
Weather the ship master dreads. "Look at that!" Getting the drop
on Fritz. Old acquaintances. Dave is angry. The German whine. Not
man enough to play the game. "Why do you hate us Germans so?" Ever
at Fate's orders.
CHAPTER XXI--ON A MISSION OF GREAT TRUST 215
The sport of kings. "Don't shoot!" begs Danny Grin. The dull wait
and the sharp dash. Out to meet the hospital ship. "One of the
passengers is Mrs. Darrin." "A special interest."
CHAPTER XXII--THE RED CROSS TRAGEDY 222
The Navy and family matters. Under treble lookout. Sighted. Big
pay for a periscope. A wail of anguish. The race of rescue. S. O.
S. The sight of Belle. Crowded decks. Two compartments smashed in.
"No use, sir."
CHAPTER XXIII--A NOBLE FIGHT WITHOUT WEAPONS 230
Marine patchwork. Not enough rescue to go around. "Those Red Cross
women ought to be saved." But they decline. Dave approves. An
answer to S. O. S. The fight to survive. The nurses admit defeat.
The lurking peril.
CHAPTER XXIV--CONCLUSION 244
DAVE DARRIN
AFTER THE MINE LAYERS
CHAPTER I
WEIGHING ANCHOR FOR THE GREAT CRUISE
"IT sounds like the greatest cruise ever!" declared Danny Grin,
enthusiastically, as he rose and began to pace the narrow limits of the
chart-room of the destroyer commanded by his chum, Lieutenant-Commander
Dave Darrin.
"It is undoubtedly the most dangerous work we've ever undertaken," Darrin
observed thoughtfully.
"All the better!" answered Dan lightly.
"In our drive against the submarines off the Irish coast," Dave
continued, "we met perils enough to satisfy the average salt water man.
But this----"
"Is going to prove the very essence and joy of real fighting work at
sea!" Dan interposed.
"Oh, you old fire-eater!" laughed Darrin.
"Not a bit of a fire-eater," declared Dalzell with dignity. "I'm a
business man, Davy. Our business, just now, is to win the war by killing
Germans, and I've embarked upon that career with all the enthusiasm that
goes with it. That's all."
"And quite enough," Darrin added, soberly. "I agree with you that it's
our business to kill Germans, yet I could wish that the Germans
themselves were in better business, for then we wouldn't have to do any
killing."
"You talk almost like a pacifist," snorted Dan Dalzell.
"After this war has been won by our side, but not before, I hope to find
it possible to be a pacifist for at least a few years," smiled Darrin,
rising from his seat at the chart table.
Dan stood looking out through the starboard porthole. His glance roved
over other craft of war tugging at their anchors in the goodly harbor of
a port on the coast of England. As the destroyer swung lazily at her
moorings the little port town came into view. On all sides were signs of
war. Forts upreared their grim walls. Earthen redoubts screened guns that
alert artillerymen could bring into play at a moment's notice. Overhead,
dirigibles floated and airplanes buzzed dinfully to and fro.
Readers of the preceding volume in this series know how Dave Darrin came
to be ordered to the command of the brand-new, big and up-to-the-minute
destroyer, "Asa Grigsby," while Dan Dalzell, reaching the grade of
lieutenant-commander, had been ordered to the command of the twin
destroyer, "Joseph Reed."
At the door there sounded a knock so insistent that Darrin knew
instantly that it was a summons. Springing from his chair, reaching for
his uniform cap and setting it squarely on his head, he drew the curtains
aside.
"Special signal for the 'Grigsby,' sir, from the flagship," reported an
orderly.
Returning the young seaman's salute, Dave, with Dalzell close at his
heels, darted up the steps to the bridge.
"Signal 'Ready to receive,'" was Darrin's command to his signalman, who
stood waiting, signal flags in hand.
Rapidly the two flags moved, then paused. Dave's eyes, like Dan's, were
turned toward the United States battleship that had lately acted as
flagship for the destroyers and other small Yankee craft assembled in
this port.
Brief indeed were the motions of the signalman on the bridge of the
battleship, but the signal, translated, read:
"Proceed to sea in an hour, under instructions already received by you.
Am proceeding to new station. Report to British admiral, this port,
hereafter. No additions to these orders."
Instantly Darrin ordered the signal wigwagged back:
"Understood."
Immediately following this the flagship signalled the "Reed," Dan's ship,
giving the same order, which Dan's executive officer, from the bridge of
the other destroyer, acknowledged.
"Now, Darry, if you'll have your man signal for my gig," Dan urged, in a
low voice, "I'll return to my ship. You and I are to cruise in company,
as far as it may be done, and you are ranking officer. I am to part
company from you only on your order."
"That is the admiral's order," Darrin acquiesced.
"Good-bye, old chap!" said Dan, with more than his wonted fervor,
gripping his brother officer's hand. "And may we have the best of luck!"
"The best of a 'business' kind," smiled Dave.
"That's it!" laughed Dan, as he started down the steps. "I'm hoping for
'big business' this time!"
Dalzell had used the word "gig" in a figurative sense. It was a power
launch that put smartly away from the "Reed" and was speedily alongside.
Dan waved his hand to his chum, who was leaning over the bridge rail.
Dave did not return to the chart-room. He received the report of his
chief engineer at the bridge telephone, then gazed musingly out over the
crowded waters of the port. It was a busy scene, bristling with war
activities.
Having compared his watch with the clock on the bridge, Dave glanced
frequently at that time-keeper. Five minutes before the hour was up he
gave a quiet order to the watch officer, who telephoned to the
engine-room and then issued brisk deck orders. At this time Lieutenant
Fernald, executive officer, joined the group on the bridge, as did also
the navigation officer.
Promptly to the minute the "Grigsby," anchor up, turned and steamed
slowly out of the harbor. As she passed, none of the other craft made
signals. As though unnoticed Dave's ship slipped out of port, the "Reed"
following.
Then out upon the Channel the two destroyers moved, into the lane now
followed by all craft that sailed between England and the continent.
"All clear hereabouts," signalled the master of a small mine-sweeping
craft, meaning that the destroyers, while in that immediate vicinity,
might feel secure against the hidden mines with which the enemy were wont
to strew these waters.
"A few miles from here," Dave murmured to Fernald, "we shall have to look
after our own security. It is going to be lively work."
"Yes, sir?" Fernald inquired, with a rising inflection, for he did not
know the purpose of this cruise.
Turning to make sure that the signalman could not overhear, Darrin went
on, in a lower voice:
"Our orders take us out to wage war against the German mine-layers!"
"A great work, sir!" replied the executive officer with enthusiasm.
"There is sure to be plenty of sport. Then the enemy mine-layers have
been working more industriously of late?"
"The waters to the north are more thickly strewn with mines than at any
time previously," Dave continued. "Six British mine-sweeping craft have
been sent north to do all they can to remove those hidden perils from the
paths of transports and freighters. Our first mission is to protect the
mine-sweepers as far as possible, but we are also to keep a sharp lookout
for German submarines; and especially submarines of the mine-laying
kind."
"I understand, sir," Fernald nodded. The tone of enthusiasm had faded
from his voice. Now he displayed only the grave interest of the
professional sea-fighter.
"All officers and men will have to work twice as hard as usual," Darrin
went on. "There will be some chance to sleep, but no other leisure. Meals
will be taken in the least possible time. Our entire crew must be at all
times ready for instant response to the call to quarters."
"That will not be hard in such times, sir," answered Fernald. "All
officers and men laid in a good supply of sleep while in port. A few
added waking hours in each day won't hurt any of us."
"Direct all officers to see that they and their men are fully awake and
alert at all times when they are on duty," continued Dave. "Otherwise, we
are not likely to make port again. Dalzell and I have been intrusted with
keeping down the mine-laying peril as close to zero as possible."
"Very good, sir," replied Lieutenant Fernald. That capable executive
officer had nothing more to say at present, for his quick mind was
already devising methods for keeping the crew unusually alert.
An hour and a half after sailing night had settled down. The English
shore was but a vague, distant line. A short, choppy sea was running. In
the sky was a new moon that would set early.
The watch had changed, but Dave and his executive officer remained on the
bridge. Down in the wardroom such officers as were off duty were stowing
away food in record time.
Half a mile off to the west steamed the "Reed." Suddenly the lookouts on
both craft reported a vessel ahead. Orders quietly given sent the men to
gun stations. All eyes were turned on the approaching craft. Then her
identification signal shone forth in the night. The stranger was a
British scout cruiser racing back to port from some errand.
In almost the same instant Dave and Dan displayed recognition signals,
yet the two Yankee craft closely watched the stranger until she moved
between them, when she was fully recognized as one of John Bull's
friendly sea-racers.
"Any enemy signs?" Dave signalled.
"No," came the answer.
Soon the British scout cruiser had passed on into the night and vanished,
but the Yankee lookouts kept vigil even more zealously than before.
Half an hour later an English patrol boat, after exchange of signals,
passed near by on Dave's port side. Twenty minutes after that two British
mine-sweepers were found at work combing the seas with their wire
sweepers. If those wires should touch a hidden mine it would be quickly
known to the seamen who operated the mine-detecting device, and the mine
would be hauled up and taken aboard the mine-sweeping craft, provided it
did not explode in the meantime.
As these two mine-sweepers were under Darrin's command, at need, he
steamed near one of the pair, and, ordering a navy launch over the side,
went to visit one of the Britons.
"There's not very much in the way of catches to-night, sir," reported the
commander of the sweeper, a ruddy-faced, square-shouldered young
Englishman in his twenties, who had been watch officer on a steamship at
the outbreak of the war. "Sometimes the fishing is much better."
"This is the area in which we have been ordered to make a strict search,"
Dave observed.
"I know, sir. But, according to my experience, we may search for hours
and find nothing at all, and then, of a sudden, run into a mine field and
take up a score of the pests."
"What is your present course?"
The commander of the mine-sweeper named it, adding the distance he had
been ordered to go.
"And the other sweeper sticks near by you?"
"Yes, sir. In that way there's a much better chance of one of us striking
a regular mine field. Then again, sir, if one of us gets into trouble, as
sometimes happens, the other craft can stand by promptly."
"What is the most common trouble?"
"First," explained the Englishman, "being torpedoed by a submarine;
second, touching off a mine by bad handling; third, being sunk by some
raiding German destroyer."
"Then you often hit mines?"
"Since the war began, sir," replied the young Englishman, "we've lost--"
He named the number of mine-sweepers that had disappeared without leaving
a trace, and the number that were definitely known to have been torpedoed
or to have hit floating mines.
"As you see, sir," the Englishman went on, "it's no simple thing that we
have to do. I lay it to sheer luck that I've escaped so long, but my
turn may come at any moment. I've lost a number of friends in this same
branch of the service, sir."
"Then you would call mine-sweeping the most dangerous kind of naval
service performed to-day?" Dave suggested.
"I don't know that I'd say that, sir, but it's dangerous enough."
Many more pointers did Darrin pick up from this young officer of long
experience in mine-hunting.
"I'm going farther north," said Dave. "If you run into anything and need
help, send up rocket signals and we'll steam back to you at top speed."
Before ten o'clock that night Darrin had encountered and spoken with or
signalled to the commanders of not less than a dozen mine-sweeping craft.
What struck Dave as the most prominent feature of these small,
unpretentious craft was the slow, systematic way in which they performed
their duty.
"It's a wonderful work," Dave explained to Fernald. "If it were not for
these dingy, stub-nosed little craft, and the fine spirit of their crews,
hundreds of steamships would probably be blown up in these waters in a
month. The Hun sneaks through these waters, laying mines, mostly from
submarines built for the purpose, and these patient mine-sweeper
commanders go along after them, removing most of the mines from the paths
of navigation."
Having cruised as far north as his instructions directed him to do,
Darrin ordered the "Grigsby" and the "Reed" to turn about and nose their
way back under bare headway.
Every mine-sweeper carried a radio outfit for sending messages. Each
craft was also supplied with the mast-head "blinkers" for flashing night
signals. When the craft signalled to, however, was near enough, colored
lights operated from the deck were used instead, that the messages might
not be sent far enough into the night to be picked up by skulking enemy
craft.
"It looks like a night of tame sport, sir," said Fernald, just before he
went below for a nap.
"It has been quiet so far," Darrin agreed. "But the most striking thing
in naval service is that whatever starts comes without warning. We might
have a whole week as quiet as to-night has been, and then run into
twenty-four hours of work that would give both of us gray hair."
An hour after Fernald went below Dave had a steamer chair brought to the
bridge, also a rug. The chair was placed where a canvas wind-shield would
protect the sitter from the keen edge of the wind.
"I'm going to doze right here, Mr. Ormsby," Dave explained to the ensign
who was on bridge watch. "I'm to be called the instant anything turns
up."
Accustomed to such sleeps Darrin had barely closed his eyes when he was
off in the Land o' Nod. Some time afterwards the sharp orders of Ensign
Andrews, new officer of the bridge watch, caused Darrin to open his eyes,
cast aside the rug and spring to his feet all in the same instant.
"Torpedo coming on our starboard bow, sir," reported Mr. Andrews, turning
and finding his chief at his post.
At that instant the "Grigsby" gave a sharp turn to port and sprang ahead
under quickened speed.
Bump! Swift as the discovery had been made, quickly as the saving orders
had been given, the oncoming torpedo bumped the hull of the "Grigsby"
with a crash audible to those within a hundred feet of the point of
impact. But it did not strike full on, the contact being only glancing,
like that of a boat going alongside a landing stage. The watchers from
the bridge saw the torpedo's wake as the deflected projectile continued
on its harmless way.
"We couldn't have had a much narrower squeak than that!" Dave ejaculated.
"Andrews, I congratulate you."
"I'm naturally interested in saving the ship, sir, and my own skin as
well," replied Ensign Andrews with a grin.
Dave, not having taken his eyes from the faint streak on the water,
called for highest speed and a complete turn. Then, ordering the rays of
the searchlight to play over the water, Darrin sent the "Grigsby" racing,
bow-on, toward the spot from which he judged the torpedo to have been
launched. In the meantime Dalzell's "Reed" had turned her prow in the
same general direction, steaming slowly after the "Grigsby."
"The Hun can't be located," Dave confessed, a few minutes later. "That
chap is like most of the other Hun submarine commanders. He'll launch a
torpedo by stealth, but as soon as he knows the destroyer is after him he
hunts depth and runs away."
Dave's next order was to send a wireless message, warning all
mine-sweepers and other craft that an enemy submarine had been discovered
in that location.
Though no word had been passed for Lieutenant Fernald, that executive
officer, awakened by the bump and the abrupt change in the destroyer's
course, hurried to the bridge.
"Did you get a good rest, Fernald?" Dave queried, half an hour later.
"Fine, sir."
"Then I am going to the chart-room to rest for a while. I got chilled
dozing in that chair. Set the bell going in the chart-room if I'm
wanted."
Then Dave slept on, without call, for a few hours, well knowing that
Lieutenant Fernald could well fill his place. The first signs of dawn
awakened Darrin. He sprang up, reaching for the bridge telephone.
"All secure, sir," reported Fernald, from the bridge.
Dave therefore delayed long enough to make his toilet--a none too
frequent luxury aboard a destroyer in the danger zone. Then, fully
refreshed and ruddy, Darrin drew on his tunic and over that his sheepskin
coat. Placing his uniform cap on his head he stepped out on deck before
the sun had begun to rise up above the sea.
In the distance, in three different directions, as many British
mine-sweepers could be seen patiently combing the seas for mines.
"What number recovered?" Dave signalled.
"Three," replied one craft. "Five," said another. "One," came from the
third sweeper.
"Nine in all," Dave remarked to Fernald. "We're in a mine field, then. We
shall need to be vigilant."
The sun soon rose, strong and brilliant, only to pass behind a bank of
clouds and leave the air damp and chilly. An hour later a fog settled
over the English Channel, soon becoming so dense that one could not see
beyond about three hundred yards.
Dave went below to a hurried breakfast. Returning, he sent Lieutenant
Fernald to his meal and rest.
"I'll remain on the bridge all day, unless this fog lifts," Darrin
decided. He increased the number of lookouts and ordered slow speed, so
that the long, narrow destroyer, capable of racing rapidly over the
waves, now merely crept along.
When the watch was changed Dave barely returned the salutes of the
departing and oncoming watch officers, for his whole attention was
centered on the sea. Half an hour after that he started slightly, then
stared hard.
Off the starboard bow he thought he made out something moving as slowly
as the "Grigsby" herself was proceeding.
"Pick that up, Mr. Ormsby, and see if it's anything more than a dream,"
ordered Dave, pointing.
Instantly the course of the destroyer was changed several points to
starboard and speed increased a trifle.
Through the haze there soon developed the outlines of a steam craft, set
low in the water, and of not more than two thousand tons. She was not a
handsome craft, but, on the contrary, appeared ghostlike as she stood
only half-revealed through the fog.
Undoubtedly the stranger had a lookout up forward, but no sign of one
could be made out as the "Grigsby" gained on her.
Her markings indicated that she belonged to one of the neutral countries
to the northward. The wet flag that she flew drooped so tightly around
the staff that nothing could be learned from that bit of bunting.
"One of the neutral traders," remarked Ensign Ormsby.
"She must give an account of herself," Dave answered. "Whatever she is,
or carries, she doesn't look like a craft to be entrusted with a valuable
cargo."
As the "Grigsby" ranged up alongside, an officer stepped out from the
stranger's wheelhouse and came to the rail.
"What craft is that?" Dave demanded.
The skipper, if such he was, replied in broken English, naming a neutral
country, and adding that the vessel was the "Olga," bound for an English
port with a cargo of wood pulp.
"I knew she couldn't carry a costly cargo," Dave muttered, then
commanded, through a megaphone:
"Lie to and stand by to be inspected."
"Vat?" demanded the foreign skipper, in evident amazement.
Dave repeated the order.
"But ve all right are," insisted the skipper, "vot I told you iss our
cargo."
"Lie to, just the same," Dave commanded. "We'll be aboard at once."
That made the skipper angry, but he dared not resist. The muzzles of two
of the "Grigsby's" three-inch guns were pointed straight at him now, so
the clumsy craft stopped and lay tossing on the choppy sea.
Ensign Burton and a boarding crew were told off for one of the power
launches. At the last instant Dave decided to go with the party and took
his place in the launch. He was first aboard the stranger when the launch
had been made fast alongside.
It was now a younger officer who met him at the rail.
"Where is your skipper?" Darrin demanded.
"He me has given der papers to you show," replied the younger officer.
"Come mit me to der cabin, please."
"I must see this craft's master, and at once," Darrin insisted.
"He here cannot be at dis minute," replied the foreign mate. "To de cabin
mit me come, please."
"Your cargo is wood pulp, you say?" Dave continued.
"Yes, sir."
"Where is it?"
"In our hold, already, sir," answered the mate.
"Throw off that hatch," Dave directed, pointing. "I am going to inspect
your cargo."
The hatch was promptly uncovered. Leaving Burton and his men on deck,
Dave descended into the hold by a ladder, followed by the mate and two of
the "Olga's" seamen. A brief inspection proved that the hold was well
filled with a cargo of wood pulp.
"Now, you vill go to de after hold, please?" asked the mate, as Darrin
climbed up to the deck.
"Yes," Dave nodded, and went aft, followed by four of his men, while
Burton and the others remained forward. Here in the after hold the same
kind of cargo was found. The "Olga" looked like a straight enough craft,
but there was something in the manner of the mate that made Darrin
suspicious.
Calling two of his seamen below Dave produced a tape measure.
"Get the distance from the hatchway to the after end of this hold," he
directed.
Then, wheeling, he noted that the mate's face had turned to a greenish
color.
"What ails you, man?" Darrin demanded, eyeing the fellow sharply.
"N-n-nutten, sir," stammered the mate.
One of the seamen reported the measurement he had taken.
"Now, go on deck and measure aft from the hatchway," Dave commanded.
The instant that Darrin was left alone with the mate a pair of muscular
arms encircled the throat of the young American naval commander from
behind. In the same instant the mate sprang at him. The two assailants,
taking him so by surprise, overcame Darrin with comparative ease. In the
same moment they backed him through a small doorway opening into the hold
forward.
Down on his back Dave Darrin was thrown, the skipper sitting on his
chest, while the mate swiftly drew the door to and securely bolted it. In
this stuffy apartment, lighted only by two swinging lanterns, Darrin
realized that he must fight promptly if he expected to escape.
A steel tube was pressed against one of Dave's temples, while a hoarse,
low voice proclaimed:
"Say a vord, and you die shall!"
It was the skipper who was holding a revolver to Darrin's head, and the
returning mate bent over with an iron hatch bar in his right hand.
"You do vill vat we tell you--yes!" insisted the skipper, his breath
coming fast.