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Dave Darrin on Mediterranean Service, a novel by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 23. The Puzzle Of The Deep |
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_ CHAPTER XXIII. THE PUZZLE OF THE DEEP While engaged in a thrilling chase after an undersea boat the launch's company find the tables unexpectedly turned on them.
"Aye, aye, sir." "Send up three blue rockets!" "Aye, aye, sir." One after another the rockets ascended, bursting high overhead and slowly falling. From Grand Harbor, several miles distant, a rocket ascended and burst, showing red. Darrin's signal had been seen and answered. Both fleets now knew that one of the launches had sighted the submarine craft. The three blue rockets had been the signal agreed upon in advance. Runkle was at the gun. Ensign Darrin gave him the range. "I wish we had a four-inch gun in the bow," Dave muttered wistfully, "but we'll have to do the best we can with the one-pounder. Ready! Fire!" Even before the command to fire had been uttered the craft ahead had begun to submerge. As the brisk, snappy report of the little piece sounded, and a faint puff of smoke left her muzzle, Runkle's head bobbed up to watch the result of his shot. "Forward of her turret by about a foot!" Runkle muttered in disgusted criticism of his own shooting. A sailor had thrown the breech open, while a second swabbed the bore through and the first fitted in a fresh shell, closing the breech with a snap. Runkle seemed to sight and fire almost in the same instant, and, as before, straightened up to watch the accuracy of his shot by the splash of water on the other side of the craft. The launch's searchlight held a steady glare on the mark. "Nearer by a few inches, sir," Runkle called over his shoulder while the men with him swabbed and loaded. Again Runkle fired. "The shell must have passed aft of the turret by about six inches," remarked Darrin, catching through his glass a glimpse of the splash of water where the little shell struck the waves. "I'll do better, or drown myself, sir," growled Runkle. "Quick! She is submerging rapidly," commanded Darrin. Bang! An instant after the report a smothered exclamation came from the unhappy gunner. The submarine had safely submerged. Not even her periscope was above water now. "If the turret had been four inches nearer the sky you'd have put it out of commission," declared Ensign Darrin. "Rotten work," growled Runkle in disgust. "It's night shooting, my man," Dave answered. "Good work just the same." Runkle had an excellent gunnery record, and Darrin did not like to see that fine fellow fretting when he had done his best. None the less it was highly important to send that submarine to the bottom and quickly at that. "We've got to go by bubbles, now," Darrin declared. "She isn't likely to show her eye again." Had he gotten the launch close enough to observe the bubbles it is possible that the young ensign could have followed the enemy trail. Twice or thrice Dave believed that he had picked up glimpses of bubbles with the searchlight, but at last, with a sigh, he gave orders to shut off speed and drift. Inaction became wellnigh insupportable after a few moments and Darrin called for slow speed ahead. "There she is again" he cried. "There's her periscope. The scoundrel is standing out to sea." Over the starboard quarter the searchlight signals of two other launches were observed. "What's taking place?" came the signaled question from one. "Fired a few shots at a vanishing turret, but missed," Dave ordered signaled back. "Enemy standing out to sea. Am following." "Will follow also," flashed back the answer. "And one of their gunners will bag the game at the first chance," groaned Runkle. "The jinx is sitting tight on my chest to-night!" "It might be, if there were any such animal as a jinx," laughed Darrin. "Your missing was just plain bad luck, Runkle. Your shooting was good." "The periscope is being pulled inboard, sir," called one of the seamen who stood by with Runkle. "I see it. There she goes, under again," Dave answered. The Navy launch was dashing full speed ahead. But with no clue to follow, Darrin passed some anxious seconds. Should he follow on the course he had been taking, or should he shut off speed? In the dark there was a good chance that the submarine commander, if so minded, would be able to double and head back for shore. Land lights were still visible from his position. Dave turned to estimate their distance. "About six knots off shore," he concluded, half aloud. "Sir?" questioned the corporal of marines, thinking the ensign was addressing him. "I was just telling myself that we're about six knots off shore." "Yes, sir," replied the corporal, saluting. "Listen to me, you men who are near enough to hear. Your understanding of what is in my mind may help you the better to work with me on this job. Two launches are keeping with us, over the starboard, and I judge the nearer one to be about four knots off. Coxswain, use the lantern signal and ask who commands." Soon Hardy discovered that, in order to make his signal visible at that distance, he would have to stand higher. Springing to the forward deck his signal was instantly understood on the other craft. Dave, who had jumped up beside him, read the answer: "Ensign Dalzell." "I was sure of it," Dave smiled. "Coxswain, order number 2 launch to come up on parallel course, standing off half-mile to starboard of us." "Order understood," was flashed back from Dalzell's launch. Bit by bit Dan overhauled, at last taking the position indicated. Darrin's launch was moving at slow speed now, for he did not care to run out of sight of land, thus leaving the way clear for the submarine to double on him and put back toward Grand Harbor. "Why doesn't the fellow take a chance on torpedoing us?" was signaled from Dalzell's launch. "He has only three," was Darrin's reply. That was brief, but Danny Grin understood, as Dave had intended he should, that the submarine was believed to be equipped with only three torpedoes. Evidently the enemy still hoped for a chance to sink a British battleship. Suddenly he discovered that for which he sought, and in the same instant a seaman called, as the rays of the searchlight shifted: "Periscope two points off the port bow, sir." "Right!" clicked Ensign Darrin. "May I fire, sir?" begged Runkle, bending over his piece. "Yes, try it. Pretty long shot, though." Before Runkle could aim and discharge his piece a swift, red flash shot from the bow of the number 2 launch commanded by Danny Grin. Runkle fired a second later, but the periscope still stood as if mocking the eager gunners. "I'm glad somebody else missed," growled Runkle, who was becoming exasperated. He was doing himself injustice, though, for each time he had fired, his mark, considering the distance, had been small, and the searchlight was no peer of daylight in aiding a gunner. Ensign Darrin admitted to himself that he was stumped. He ordered the course changed, with speed ahead, his purpose being to scan the water for the bubbled trail left by the underseas craft. But by the time that he judged himself to be going over the recently observed position of the submersible the searchlight revealed no bubbles. The third launch now coming in close, Dave, by signal, ordered Ensign Sutton of the British forces to go slowly inshore. He too was to watch for bubbles, as well as to be alert for a re-appearance of the enemy craft. The longer the suspense lasted, the more uneasy Darrin became. "There she is, sir!" called a low but penetrating voice from the stern watch. "Three points off the stern to port, sir." So quickly did the helmsman bring the launch about that she heeled and shipped a volume of water. Darrin, as he leaped upon the forward deck, ordered the sailor manning the searchlight to shut off. "Don't turn it on again without orders. I believe I can follow the pest with my glass if she will only keep her conning tower above water. Signalman, send my order to the other launches not to use their searchlights without first asking permission." By this time Darrin, standing on the forward deck, had the submarine's turret, or as much of it as showed, in the field of his night-glass. Not more than a foot of it showed above water, and, even through the glass, at a distance of nearly half a mile, it would hardly have been discernible without the aid of the searchlight, had it not been for the white wake left by the turret in its course through the water. "May I try a shot now, sir?" begged Runkle, "I'm certain I can hit the turret this time." "If you could do it surely, you'd be the best shot in the Navy," smiled Darrin. "I'm not going to use the searchlight unless I have to, and it would be almost impossible to make a hit in the dark without it. The pest is headed shoreward, and I want to creep up close from the rear, if possible." Dissatisfied, Runkle none the less saluted and turned back to his gun. "Keep a close sight on the sneak," Dave called after him. "When you hear me call 'Ready!' you will complete your aim and fire without further orders." An order transmitted to the man standing by the engine sent the launch plunging ahead at increased speed. Of a sudden the pursuit assumed a new aspect. The submarine suddenly veered around to port, and then headed straight toward the launch. "Now's our chance!" glowed a seaman, excitedly. "Yes," retorted another strained voice. "Our chance for death!" The same thought came into the minds of many on the launch. The submarine, it seemed, was about to discharge a torpedo at the pursuer. "Starboard!" commanded Darrin. "Keep her bow to port of us!" Seaman Jack Runkle strained his ears for the solitary word from Ensign Darrin that would be so welcome. "Will he ever give that order?" fumed the impatient sailor at the breech of the one-pounder. _ |
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