A NOBLE FIGHT WITHOUT WEAPONS
NOR was the mate's warning a panicky one. There seemed not one chance in
a hundred of closing the gaps sufficiently to keep the hospital ship
afloat long enough to save many of its wounded passengers.
Dave had made his plans while coming alongside. By this time the repair
material he had brought along lay on the deck. He called his own men to
help him, and the chief officer sent two score more of British seamen to
his aid.
The engine-room fires being as yet untouched by water, the pumps were
working with tremendous force.
"Unroll that canvas, there. Run it out lively," Darrin ordered.
In a twinkling the first patch was ready. Dave himself helped with
weighting what was intended for the lower edge of the patch, and with
reeving in ropes at the sides and top.
"Over with it!"
Lowered down into place, the patch was fitted to the hole. It still had
to be made fast.
Both port and starboard gangways had been lowered, and launches from the
destroyer were alongside, receiving badly wounded men who had been taken
over the side on stretchers. The "Grigsby's" cutters were also alongside,
picking up such of the wounded men as could jump in life belts. The
"Gloucester's" own boats swung out after being loaded. The mine-sweepers
had come up and had lowered their boats and sent them to the rescue.
Several hundred men and women were reasonably sure of being saved, but
unless Darrin succeeded in what he was undertaking, from twelve to
fifteen hundred other human beings were surely doomed.
Badly as boats were needed, Dave had to commandeer two of the smallest.
Himself going in one of these, he superintended the making fast of the
canvas patches below from the water. Seamen over the hull's side in
slings, acting under the second mate, did valiant service at the same
time.
With a single outside canvas patch over the forward hole, Darrin moved
back to the second breach. Here, too, a patch was quickly put in place.
By this time the "Grigsby" and the mine-sweepers had received nearly as
many rescued passengers as they could hold. The small boats were
returning for more.
Up to Dave rushed Captain Senby of the "Gloucester."
"Captain," he called, addressing Dave Darrin by that courtesy title,
"these Red Cross women ought to be saved while there's time, but they
refuse to go over the side until their patients are safe."
"Did you expect they would desert their patients?" Darrin asked quietly,
his gaze still on the work that he was directing.
"But, Captain, we must save the women folks, anyway! Won't you use your
persuasion to help me?"
"No," came Dave's quick response. "These women are asserting their right
to prove the stuff that is in them. In this war, in their own fields, the
women fight as bravely as the men."
"In a time like this the women ought to be saved!" the British master
insisted.
"Not at the expense of their best sense of duty," Darrin answered.
For an instant Senby regarded the young naval officer with amazement
before he blurted:
"Captain, I don't believe you have any women folks of your own!"
"My wife is one of the Red Cross women on board," Darrin answered,
quietly. Then, raising his voice, he added:
"That patch is ready! Over with it!"
Thus was the second patch fitted over the forward hole, and men were busy
completing another for the second hole.
And now with the small boats filled, Darrin anxiously surveyed the sea.
No ships were yet in sight.
"Get more patches ready!" he shouted.
He then descended to the first compartment, stepping down into the water
to take its depth. He judged it to be of about the same depth as before.
Four patches were over each hole by the time that the first trail of
smoke was observed far down on the horizon. A steamship was coming to
their aid, but would it arrive in time?
Another inspection showed that the pumps had made a slight gain on the
water. It was going out of the compartments faster than it could get in
past the canvas. But Dave knew that ship pumps, working to furious
capacity, were likely to give out at any moment.
He stationed a seaman with lead and line on the stairs leading down to
each compartment, with instructions to take frequent soundings and to
report sharply to the deck.
The "Gloucester's" rafts, too, were now overboard. On these huddled those
of the wounded or convalescing soldiers who were better able to take care
of themselves.
But not a single Red Cross woman had yet gone over the side. Much as some
of the wounded might need attendance on the rescue craft or in the small
boats, those left helpless behind needed the women of mercy still more!
A slow gain was still being made on the water in the two compartments. If
the pumps held out, and if the patches did not give way, there might yet
be a fair chance to save life. But Dave knew the dangers that confronted
all hands left behind, even when he could make out the hull of the
oncoming steamship, and saw that she was moving at fullest speed.
"We should win out, don't you think?" demanded Captain Senby, anxiously.
"I've never lost a ship."
"At least we stand a fair chance to win out," Dave answered, frankly.
"Any one of three or four things might happen to us yet and send us to
the bottom."
Darrin spent most of his time inspecting the canvas patches. Between
times he anxiously watched the relief ship. He could see, by glass, when
she was four miles away, that her davits were swung out and her
boat-crews in place.
"All depends on how we hold together for the next half or three-quarters
of an hour," he told Captain Senby.
There were still some two hundred patients who would have to be moved on
stretchers. These were brought to the upper deck until the stretchers all
but blocked passage.
What a cheer went up from those at the rail as the steamship, an Italian
craft, lay to and began to lower her boats! The small boats from the
hospital ship, the "Grigsby" and the mine-sweepers had already gone
forward to meet her. As fast as they could move in to either side gangway
these boats discharged their temporary passengers, then quickly returned
to the "Gloucester."
For an hour all the small boats plied back and forth, the rescuers using
all their nerve and muscle power in their efforts at speed.
Shivering, for he was drenched up to the waist, Dave stood by, receiving
the reports of the leadsmen in the two compartments. The best work of the
canvas patches had been done. They were slowly yielding to the fearful
pressure of the water without and it was impossible to rig additional,
fresh patches over them. The water was rising, inch by inch, in both
compartments.
"How long do you think we can keep afloat?" asked Captain Senby,
miserably.
"Your judgment will be as good as mine, sir," Dave answered. "It is
impossible to name the number of moments we can hope to keep above water,
but we both know it cannot be for long."
At last the decks were cleared of litters. There were no more to be
brought out. The last boats had taken away many besides the stretcher
patients.
"Give us ten minutes more," said Darrin, as he watched the boats
discharging at the Italian steamer, and returning, "and we shall all be
safe."
"They will be the longest, most anxious ten minutes that I ever lived!"
sighed Captain Senby.
"Man, you're white and you look ill," Dave cried. "Buck up! You've done
splendidly, and the discipline on board has been perfect. You have
nothing with which to reproach yourself."
"Do you really think so?" Senby asked, with a wan smile. "I thank you,
but it seems to me I should have done better."
"You could do better than you're doing now, for you've lost your nerve,"
Darrin warned him, in a low voice. "Yet while you needed your nerve you
kept it."
"You won't mind saying that in your report, will you?" asked the master,
eagerly. "I'd hate to have my family hear anything that would make them
feel I had broken down."
"The discipline on this ship shows what you have done," Dave rejoined.
"You're suffering, now, on account of the people who may be lost, and
you're thinking of the Red Cross women who are stubborn enough to do
their duty like men. But you've trained your crew well, you have the
respect of your officers and men, and you've given all help possible in
the shortest amount of time. A ship's master can be judged, instantly, by
the discipline that prevails on his craft. Your family will hear nothing
about your conduct that won't please 'em."
At this the British master "bucked up" wonderfully, but he still watched
the Red Cross women with wistful eyes.
"Here are the first boats coming back to take the last of us off," Darrin
said encouragingly. "Now, clear all hands off lively."
"The women first?" almost pleaded Captain Senby.
"Of course!" Dave nodded. "They've done their full duty, and done it
splendidly. Now, insist."
Galvanized into action by these cheering words, Captain Senby cleared his
throat, then roared in a fog-horn voice:
"All hands stand by to abandon ship! Be lively, please, ladies. No man
stir over the side until the last woman has gone over!"
Some of the Red Cross women smilingly obeyed the order; others hung back.
"There are still some wounded men on board," pleaded one of them. "Let
the last wounded man go over the side, then we'll go."
"I'll kill any man on this deck who tries to go over until the last
woman is taken care of!" shouted Senby, drawing a revolver.
Some of the nurses still demurred, but the master was obdurate.
"Ladies," he called out, "this craft can't keep afloat much longer. Those
of you who hang back keep the men from their last chance to get away. I
tell you, and I mean it, that no man stirs over the side until the last
woman is on her way to a boat. Don't hold us all back, ladies!"
That swept aside the last reluctance of the nurses. They trooped forward,
to one side gangway or the other, and were quickly on their way into the
waiting boats.
One of them, however, drew back, then smiled and crossed the deck.
"I shall remain with you, Dave," announced a clear, firm voice, and Dave
turned to find Belle's steady hand resting on his arm.
"Are you going over the side, madam?" inquired Captain Senby, pleadingly.
"You must make an exception in my case, sir," Belle Darrin answered
smilingly. "I can hardly be expected to leave my husband at a time like
this."
"Oh!" gasped the Briton, understandingly. "Madam, you make me anxious,
but your devotion makes me proud of your sex!"
"Men, now!" shouted the Briton when he saw the last skirt flutter at the
top of a companionway.
"Now, you'll go over the side, sir, won't you?" asked the master,
anxiously, as two orderly files of men stepped to the sides.
"As the two commanders here," Dave answered, easily, "I believe that
tradition requires you and me to go over last of all, Captain Senby."
"But your wife, sir----"
"Is an American, Captain, who has taken the oath of service to her
country's flag just as you and I have done."
"But, madam, you----" began the Briton, turning to Belle.
"My husband has spoken, sir," smiled Belle. "Surely, Captain Senby, you
do not believe in mutiny."
The soldier patients who had remained behind when the nurses went over
the side were all men who could walk without assistance. These were now
going over, too. While this was going on the chief mate and the boatswain
had mustered the last of the crew and the roll had been called. All were
on hand who were not in the small boats.
After the soldiers and the hospital men had gone down into boats, and
other small craft had moved in to replace them, the crew went over, the
chief mate being the last to go except the trio who stood in the middle
of the upper deck.
"There's a boat left with room for all of you!" the mate called, lifting
his hat.
With a last swift look around at the ship he had loved, the Briton almost
reluctantly followed the Darrins. His legs trembled under him a bit as he
descended the steps of the side companionway, but it was from neither
exhaustion nor fear.
Last of all the Briton took his seat in the row-boat. He tried to clear
his throat and give the order, but could not speak.
"Shove off!" called Dave to the boat-tenders, as he faced the men sitting
with their oars out. "Give way! One, two, one two!"
The boat belonged to one of the mine-sweepers. With true British
precision and rhythm the men pulled away. Darrin ceased counting and
turned to his smiling wife.
"Not such a bad time, was it?" he asked.
"As it turned out, no. But I was afraid, Dave. Had a few hundred of the
brave fellows been drowned, the horror would not have left me as long as
I lived."
"Then you must steel your nerves a bit, Belle, dear. War, at the least,
is a grewsome thing, but this war contains more horrors than any other
war of which man has knowledge. The vast numbers engaged make it certain
that the losses will be heavy, and heavier, until the struggle is over.
If you work up near the front, within range of the big guns, you will
necessarily have to become accustomed to seeing the visible evidence of
huge losses daily."
"I shall grow to it," Belle Darrin declared, confidently.
And now Captain Senby was speaking to him.
"It's a great load off my mind, Captain Darrin. I was the merchant marine
master of the 'Gloucester,' but she was taken and refitted so quickly
that we were sent to sea without change of status. On our return from
this voyage the mates and I had orders to take examination for
commissions in the naval reserves. Then we were to continue aboard the
'Gloucester.' But she will be at the bottom in an hour and my chances of
making the naval reserves will go down with her."
"I don't see why," Dave returned, heartily. "You and your mates are no
less capable than you were."
Then, in an undertone that reached only Senby's ear, Darrin added:
"Man, you've been a bit unstrung, but you've gotten away without the loss
of a life. Bring your nerve back from this moment! Don't let it spoil
your life or your career. Pull yourself together and smile. Smile! Don't
let any one see that you've a single doubt of yourself! Smile, and go up
for your examination to-morrow. All that ails you is that you worry for
the safety of others--a most commendable fault in a skipper!"
From that instant Captain Senby gave at least a very good imitation of a
man who was modestly satisfied with his achievement, though he realized
that he owed most of the success of the last two hours to Lieutenant
Commander Dave Darrin, U. S. N.
Arriving at the Italian vessel, Darrin transferred Belle and himself to a
launch from the "Grigsby" and promptly rejoined his craft.
Taking Belle to his own seldom-occupied quarters on the destroyer, Dave
left her there, and then went to the bridge and signalled his orders to
the mine-sweepers and to the Italian steamship.
The mine-sweepers were ordered to move in advance of the rescue vessel to
sweep any hidden mine from her path.
"And you, Mr. Fernald, will cross the course continually ahead of the
steamship and keep the most vigilant guard against submarine attack!"
Dave next went to the chart-room, his teeth chattering from his soaked,
chilled condition.
Here he stripped and gave himself as vigorous a rub-down as he could
administer, after which he attired himself in dry clothing throughout and
sent orders to the mess kitchen for a pot of hot coffee.
Over this warmer Dave lingered long enough to gulp down three cups of the
steaming beverage.
Then pulling on a dry sheepskin coat and turning up the fur collar
against the wintry blast, he went to the bridge.
"All's secure, and no sign of trouble so far, sir," reported Lieutenant
Fernald.
Yet, unknown to any on the destroyer, the "Grigsby," driving ahead
obliquely from port to starboard well ahead of the steamship, was heading
straight toward a mine that lurked beneath the surface of the water.