Dave Darrin and the German Submarines

by H. Irving Hancock

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE BATTLE FOR THE TROOPSHIP FLEET

  Earlier that same evening a group of Uncle Sam's soldiers stood at thebow of a steamship. Back of them, on the spar deck, other groups linedthe rails on both sides.

  For some minutes there had been silence, but at last one of the group inthe bow spoke.

  "Late to-night I expect that we shall enter the outer edge of the DangerZone."

  "If the Huns and their subs are there to meet us it will kill a lot ofthe monotony," declared another soldier.

  "I wonder if the Huns will put up any real excitement for us in thatline," said a third.

  "Getting nervous, Pete?" asked the first speaker, with a short laugh.

  "Not a bit," replied Pete, hiding a yawn with his left hand.

  "Nothing to get nervous about," spoke up a fourth soldier. "The Huns arebully at sinking unarmed freighters, but so far, if they know anythingabout getting convoyed troopships they haven't used much of theirknowledge."

  "Still, they do get a troopship once in a while," spoke up anothersoldier, in a serious tone. "They may get us."

  "Won't amount to much if they do," declared Pete, boldly. "Some of uswould get off in the boats, and the rest of us would drop into the waterwith our life-belts on. Then we'd soon be picked up by a destroyer andwe'd be all right again. Pooh! This so-called submarine 'menace' makesme tired. With all their submarines and all their bluster the Huns don'tdo enough damage to our troopships to make it worth all the bother theyhave to take."

  "Anybody going to stay awake all night, to see if we get it during thedark hours?" inquired another.

  "No; what's the use? If we don't get hit there is no use in losing oursleep. If we do get hit there's always plenty of time for the men toturn out and fit their life-belts on."

  "If I thought we'd be attacked during the dark hours I'd like to stay uphere on deck to-night and be on hand to see what happens when the attackcomes," said a soldier in a group that was moving bow-ward from the portrail.

  "Forget it," advised a corporal. "The guard would chase you below if youtried to stay on deck. After 'hammocks' is sounded no man is allowed ondeck unless he is on duty. If there is an attack to-night the guard willhave all the fun to divide with the forward gun-crew."

  A young naval petty officer standing just behind the bow gun wheeledabruptly, eyeing the soldier lot.

  "Don't you fellows get nervous," he said. "This is my seventh tripacross on a troopship, and to date the only thing I've seen to shoot atis the barrel that is chucked overboard when we're to have targetpractice."

  "Who's nervous?" demanded Pete.

  "All of you," replied the bluejacket calmly.

  "Don't you believe it!"

  "That is not calling you cowards, either," the bluejacket continued."And let me give you a tip. If we're still afloat when daylight comes,don't any of you strain your eyesight looking for submarine conningtowers sticking above the water. There won't be any. No matter how manysubs there may be about, they know better than to expose themselves withso many destroyers around and all the troopships armed. The most thatany Hun submarine commander would show would be a foot of slim periscopefor a few seconds, and it would be so far away that no one but a fellowused to looking for such things would see it. Want my advice?"

  "If it's any good," nodded the corporal.

  "It's as good as can be had," retorted the young bluejacket. "Here isthe line of thought for you. Unless you're detailed for guard or lookoutduty, don't bother looking for subs at all. Don't even give any thoughtto them unless the attack starts. Keeping your mind off submarines willgive you a better show to keep your hair from turning gray before youreach the trenches."

  This troopship was one of the pair that led the fleet. A long doubleline of ships it was. Some of the vessels were of eight or nine thousandtons; others were smaller and still others much smaller. They moved intwo lines that were widely separated, and even in the lines theintervals between ships looked long to a landsman. Ahead a torpedo boatdestroyer of the United States Navy scurried briskly, often scooting offto one side of the course. Other destroyers were out to port orstarboard, while one craft manned by vigilant officers and men broughtup the rear of the long fleet.

  Every now and then a destroyer, for no reason apparent to a landsman,darted between ships and took up a new post, or else turned and scurriedback to its former relative position.

  This fleet was the present ocean home of the One Hundred and SeventeenthDivision, United States Army. On one of the ships the most importantpassenger was Major General Burton, division commander. On anothertroopship the "big man" was Brigadier General Quimby, commanding theThree Hundred and Twenty-second Infantry Brigade. Brigadier GeneralSefton's Three Hundred and Twenty-first Infantry Brigade was also withthe fleet, along with Brigadier General Strong's brigade of one heavyfield artillery regiment and two light field artillery batteries.

  There were Engineers and Medical Corps units on the ships of this fleet,Quartermaster field transportation units, Signal Corps men, and units ofvarious other auxiliary branches of the service. First and last, sometwenty-four thousand officers and men of the Army. Some of the shipscarried horses and mules, others tractors. Great quantities ofammunition of all types were carried by this fleet; stores of food andmedicines, batteries of artillery, ambulances--in a word, all the vastquantities of equipment, ordnance, clothing and the other items that goto meet the demands of troops on foreign field service.

  A really huge Armada it was, considering the actual number of fightingmen that it carried. A dark, uncanny-looking fleet it was, too, with anair of stealth and secret enterprise that could not be dispelled.Nowhere on any of the troopships did a light glow that could, by anypossibility, be seen by those aboard another craft. Visible lights hadbeen forbidden from the very moment that the ships had set sail fromAmerican ports.

  To this rule of no visible lights the sole exception, occasionally to beobserved, was the use of the red, white and blue electric lights thatsometimes glowed briefly from the yard-arms of the vessels. Theselights, slangily called "blinkers," convey necessary messages from onewar craft to another at sea.

  Nineteen thousand fighting men and some five thousand to serve thembehind the fighting lines in France, were thus crossing the ocean, underdark skies, and with every ship in complete darkness. It was a weirdsight, and Uncle Sam's soldiers aboard these ships had not yet gottenover the wonder of it.

  All through the fleet, conversations as to the probability of submarineattack on the morrow, or on succeeding days, were infrequent and brief.Hardly a soldier, however, was fooled by the absence of talk on thesubject. Each soldier knew that he was thinking a good deal about thechances of the ship's being torpedoed on the high seas, and he knew,too, that his comrades were thinking of the same thing.

  At last the bugles through the fleet softly sounded the call to turn in.Nearly all of the men had remained up on deck this evening. Now theystole below, hurriedly making up their bunks, and as hurriedlyundressing and getting in under the blankets before "taps" should sound.

  And so the decks were left to the gun-crews, to the lookouts and themembers of the guard posted there. Below, on the berth-decks, some ofthe soldiers slept little, if any, that night. Others went promptly andsoundly asleep.

  It was on this same night that Lieutenant-Commander Dave Darrin waspresently obliged to put out of his mind, as far as possible, furtherthought of the supposed treachery of Seaman Jordan, for they were ontheir way to the rendezvous where they were to meet the troopship fleet.

  Dan Dalzell, as executive officer, came in breezily, saluting brisklyand giving his cheery report as to the results of his inspection:

  "All secure, sir."

  Dave was on the bridge, with Lieutenant Briggs, when Ensign Phelps cameto report that he had been unable to find any of the looked-for bottlesin Jordan's duffle-bag or other effects, or, for that matter, anywhereelse.

  "Very good, Mr. Phelps. Thank you. I recommend that, unti
l your watch iscalled, you get all the sleep you can. To-morrow there may be no sleepfor any of us."

  Later in the night cautious signals, "blinker" lights, were observed offthe port quarter.

  The "Logan," comprehending, replied with her own "blinkers." The twocraft presently came closer, and after that kept each other company, forthe destroyer "John Adams" was also bound for the rendezvous of theearly morn.

  Two hours before dawn Darrin gave the order to lie to. The "Adams" alsostopped her engines, nearly, for the destroyers had reached the point ofrendezvous. Soon afterward a third destroyer signalled and joined; notlong after that a fourth. There were two more on hand before dawn.

  Through the dark sky came three short, quick flashes of a searchlight.It was the "Logan" that returned this signal. Then other signals wereswiftly exchanged with the craft to the westward.

  "The troopship fleet is going to be punctual to the minute," Darrinremarked to his watch officer.

  "And our biggest time will be ahead of us, sir, I'm thinking," respondedLieutenant Briggs.

  "In a way the big time will be welcome," smiled Dave. "Even if we areunfortunate enough to sustain some losses the Hun will get the worst ofit."

  "Why do you say that, sir?" Briggs inquired.

  "Because, so far, in every encounter with naval vessels or troopshipsthe Hun has seemed fated to get the worst of it."

  In the east a pale light appeared in the sky. This slowly deepened. Thencame the early red and orange tints of what promised to be a bright day.

  "There's the troopship fleet!" cried Darrin, joyously. "The head of itanyway. We'll soon see more of it."

  Lieutenant Briggs held his glass for a full thirty seconds on the firstships visible to the westward.

  "And there goes our signal to join!" exclaimed Darrin, as bunting brokefrom the foremast of the leading destroyer with the fleet. "Acknowledgethe signal, Mr. Briggs, and give the order for full speed ahead."

  Racing westward went six torpedo boat destroyers to meet their comradesof the Navy and of the Army.

  As they drew nearer, those on the destroyers could see a wild waving ofhats by the soldiers crowding the decks of the leading transports. Onemoment the hat-waving was visible; then as suddenly it ceased, and thespar decks were nearly bare of men, for mess-call had sounded forbreakfast. The only soldier who fails to answer mess call is a sick or adead one.

  "Follow second destroyer on port line," came the signal from the leadingdestroyer to the "Logan." "After taking position meet any emergencyaccording to best judgment."

  So the "Logan" raced along to the north of the fleet, then made a swift,curving sweep and moved into the assigned position.

  From the decks of the nearest transports, soldiers, as they returnedfrom their meal, blithely waved their caps again. Cheering wasforbidden, as such noise would drown out orders that might be given forthe handling of the ship. But those Of Dave's jackies who could, wavedback good-humoredly.

  For some minutes after taking position, Darrin found himself runningalong with the troopship "Cumberland," and the distance between them wasbut a few hundred yards.

  Dave had turned to watch the movements of the destroyer ahead in theline when he heard a starboard lookout call:

  "Torpedo coming, sir, on the port beam!"

  Like a flash Darrin wheeled to behold the oncoming trail.

  Lieutenant Curtin, now on the bridge watch, gave quartermaster andengine-room swift orders, while Ensign Phelps signalled the"Cumberland."

  Like a racehorse in full career, the "Logan" bounded forward and made asharp turn to port. At the same time the "Cumberland" obliqued sharplyto starboard.

  On came the torpedo. The soldiers on the troopship deck watched itscourse with fascinated eyes.

  The "Logan," having swerved enough only to clear the deadly missile, nowdarted in again, her nose striking what was left of the torpedo trail.On she dashed, gun and bomb crews grimly waiting, every man on dutyalert on the destroyer's decks.

  Cutting the wind the "Logan" raced on her way, her bow throwing up ahuge volume of water. Dave, on the bridge, saw his staunch littlefighting craft near the starting end of the tell-tale torpedo trail. Andthere on the water, moving eastward and at right angles with thedirection of the path, was an ill-defined, bulky something which, fromthe destroyer's bridge, looked like a submerged shadow.

  Quickly rasping out a change in the course, Dave saw the "Logan"overtake that shadow in a matter of seconds. The shadow was much lessdistinct now, for the sea pest was submerging to greater depth.

  It was Darrin himself who seized the handle of the bridge telegraph.

  Answering the signal sent by Dave to the engine room, the "Logan" made amagnificent leap forward just as the destroyer's bow reached the pointover the tail of the shadow.

  "Let go the depth bomb!" he roared. The signal was passed to the bombcrew to "let go!"

  Over went the bomb. The "Logan" still leaped forward.

  Then, astern of the rushing craft, came a muffled roar. A great mass ofwater shot up into the air, like a compressed geyser. Before the columnof water had had time to subside big bubbles of air came up in myriadsand burst on the surface.

  The instant after the explosion of the depth bomb, the "Logan" turned onthe shortest axis possible, her propellers slowing down somewhat.

  "The 'Cumberland' is still afloat and not hit, thank Heaven!" Darrinuttered fervently.

  Only the troopship's quick turn to starboard had saved her. The torpedohad sped past by less than five feet from her rudder.

  Another turn, and Dave came up with the scene of the explosion. Oh,cheerful sight! The water was mottled with great patches of oil. Morecheering still, sundered bits of wooden fittings from a submarinefloated on the water. Two dead bodies also drifted on the swells; theremaining Huns on the shattered craft must have gone down with the seapest.

  "Not bad work, Mr. Curtin," Dave remarked, calmly, as the destroyer oncemore moved into her place in the escort line.

  "May we have as good luck every time," came the fervent response of thewatch officer.

  Word of the bomb hit had been signalled along the line. It was hardindeed that the soldiers were not allowed to cheer!

  But had the morning's work really begun?