THE KENNEBUNK SAILS
Put back upon her course, the S. P. 888 was soon beating her way through the cross-seas—"bucking the briny" the boys called it—toward the port from which the Kennebunk was to sail in the morning.
It was a wild night. The peril through which the ship's company had just passed, and from which Philip Morgan had been able to save them, made the threatening aspects of sea and air seem small indeed. Let the wind shriek through the wire stays and the waves roar and burst about and over the submarine chaser as they listed, none of these dangers equaled that of the depth charge which had run amuck.
Seven Knott was brought to his senses in a short time, and, after staring about a bit, murmured:
"Well, I didn't get it, did I?"
"Not your fault, my man," declared Ensign MacMasters cheerfully. "Wait till Lieutenant Commander Lang, of the Colodia, hears about it. You have done well, Hertig. He will be proud of you."
At that the petty officer smiled, for he was inordinately fond of the commander of the destroyer.
Mr. MacMasters made it plain to the boatswain's mate that apprentice seaman Morgan had saved him, as well as the rest of the ship's company, from disaster, and Hansie Hertig grinned broadly.
"That Whistler—he can do something besides make tunes with his mouth, eh?" he observed.
Most of the crew of the submarine chaser, as well as the members of the squad going aboard the Kennebunk, personally congratulated Whistler on his courage and quick action.
"This is an awfully small boat, Torry," he complained to his chum. "There isn't any place for a fellow to get away by himself. There are too many folks here."
He did not take kindly to so much approbation. He felt that Lieutenant Perkins had already said enough.
Although Whistler and his mates had no duties to perform on the S. P. 888, they did not turn in that night at all. To tell the truth the chaser was making an awfully rough passage of it, and although they were inured to the discomforts of their beloved Colodia in stormy weather, this was even worse.
They kept out of the way of the watch on duty, but remained for the most part on deck, as they were free to do. The watchlights on the shore, those in the lighthouses and the lamps in certain seaside hamlets, gave them their position from time to time. They were aware long before daylight that they were drawing near to the harbor mouth of the port where the superdreadnaught lay.
It was blowing a whole gale (in nautical language, sixty-five miles or more an hour) and as the submarine chaser was meeting the seas on a slant, it might almost as well have been a hurricane. As Frenchy said:
"The smaller the boat, the bigger the wind seems. And a 'happy thought' like this chaser will kick up like a frisky colt in a dead calm, I do believe. By St. Patrick's piper that played the last snake out of Ireland! I'll be a week gittin' over this pitchin'. What d'you say, Mister Torrance, acushla?"
"Don't blather me!" growled Torry.
"Hast thou a feeling that all is not well in the daypartment av the intayrior?" teased the Irish lad, who would joke at all times and upon the most serious subjects.
"Torry does look a bit green about the gills," put in Whistler.
"Serves him right for eatin' crab-meat salad there at Yancey's," declared Ikey Rosenmeyer. "That's nice chow to go to sea on, yet."
"I don't have to ask you what to eat," said Torry gruffly.
"Oi, oi! That's right," agreed Ikey. "Just the same I could tell you lots better than that."
The boys had sampled the cook's coffee, but not much else, since embarking on the S. P. 888. It was true that the pitching of the chaser was not conducive to a ravenous appetite.
"If Uncle kept all his bluejackets on these submarine chasers," said Whistler, "he'd save money on grub. I wonder these fellows," referring to the crew of the S. P. 888, "manage to keep up with their rations."
The little craft swerved at last and took the waves directly astern as she ran shoreward. The mouth of the harbor opened up to her, and in the gray light, as the chaser shot in between the headlands, almost smothered in foam, the men and boys on her deck sighted through the haze the towering hull of the great battleship.
"There she is!" gasped Frenchy. "My! isn't she a monster?"
"She's a regular leviathan," agreed Whistler.
Even Torry forgot his discomfort and showed enthusiasm. "She's the biggest thing I ever saw afloat," he said. "Listen, fellows!"
Two strokes of a silvery bell rang out from some ship asleep in the morning mist. It was five o'clock. From the decks of the battleship sounded the bugles of the boatswain's mates, piping reveille and "all hands."
"Gee!" groaned Frenchy, "reg'lar duty again, fellows."
"Don't croak," advised Whistler. "It's what we signed on for, isn't it?"
The chaser, now riding an even keel in the more quiet waters of the harbor, swept at slower speed to the side of the towering hull of the Kennebunk. A sentinel at the starboard ladder, which was lowered, hailed sharply. A moment later a deck officer came to the side.
"S. P. Eight Hundred and Eighty-eight, ahoy!" he said.
"Lieutenant Perkins in command," said that officer, standing in his storm coat and boots on the wet deck. "With squad of seamen under Ensign MacMasters for the Kennebunk."
"Send them aboard, Lieutenant, if you please. We trip anchors in half an hour. The tide is just at the turn."
Mr. MacMasters was already lining up his men, and Seven Knott, with a bandage on his head, was looking for stragglers. Some of the chaser's crew shook hands with the boys assigned to the superdreadnaught before they went up her side.
"Good luck! If you get a chance, smash a Fritzie battleship for me!" were some of the wishes that followed Whistler Morgan and his companions aboard the superdreadnaught.
The boys from Seacove and their companions reported to the chief master-at-arms, while Mr. MacMasters made his report to the executive officer.
At first glance it was plainly to be seen by the newcomers that the superdreadnaught had a full crew. Their squad made complete her complement of men. She was ready to put to sea.
Hammocks were already piped up and the smoking lamp was lit. The cooks of the watch were serving coffee, and the newly arrived party had their share, and grateful they were. Their experience aboard the submarine patrol boat had been most chilling and uncomfortable.
Immediately, the call for hauling over hammock cloths and stopping them down was sounded. "Pipe sweepers" was the next command, and the decks were thoroughly swept while the deck washers removed their shoes and socks.
"Wet down decks!" and the washers sprang for the coils of hose attached to the fire hydrants. Every part of the decks was flushed with clean sea water and swabs, or deck-mops, were used where necessary.
All this was a familiar routine to Whistler Morgan and his mates. Later they would be assigned to their places in the watches and to their posts at all deck drills.
At the execution of morning orders at three bells, or half-past five, the decks were cleared of all loiterers and the order passed to break away the anchors. The steam gear was already in action. The derrick had hoisted aboard the running steamer before the chaser had arrived with the boys from Seacove and their companions, and it was now stowed in her proper berth amidships. There was no other craft outboard, even the captain's gig having been stowed preparatory to going to sea.
Feathery smoke was rising from the funnels of the ship when Whistler and his chums had come aboard. Now great gray masses of oily smoke ballooned upward, drifting away to leeward before the gale. As soon as the anchors were tripped the bows of the great ship swung seaward. She began to forge ahead.
The Kennebunk was a huge craft, indeed, being of thirty-two thousand tons' displacement. She carried twelve 12 and 14-inch guns in her turrets on the center line, while her torpedo battery of 5 and 6-inch guns numbered twenty. The "all-big-gun" feature of our big battleships began with the construction of the dreadnaught Delaware, in 1906.
The Kennebunk was heavily armored on the waterline and barbettes. She likewise had 5 to 8-inch armor along in wake of the berth-deck and armored broadside gun positions.
She had two steel cage masts and cofferdams along the unarmored portion of her waterline to protect the ship from being flooded if pierced by a shell between wind and water.
All machinery necessary to the superdreadnaught while in action was installed below the armored deck and behind the thick belt of armor at the waterline. Her system of water-tight compartments was perfect, and she had a complete double bottom.
In addition to her offensive machinery, she had several underwater torpedo tubes. Although she was supposed to be too heavy for great speed, her coal carrying capacity was enormous, and she could travel on the power of her oil engines alone in a pinch. Altogether, the Kennebunk was the very latest result of battleship construction, and was preëminently a "first line ship."
But she had yet to prove herself.
Her brief trial cruise had shown her to be safe and that she could be handled by the minimum of men allowed on such a ship. Now with a full crew and direct orders for a month or more ahead, she was going to sea to make her initial record as a sea-fighter for Uncle Sam.
Her commander's report would be made daily by wireless to Washington, and the working out of the new superdreadnaught would be watched by experts with the keenest anxiety.
There were several points regarding the Kennebunk's construction different from any craft that had ever been built for similar work before; and if these matters did not prove satisfactory there would be bitter criticism of the board in charge. This was no time, Congress would say, for the trial of "new frills." The country was at war, and it was believed that all our first line ships would soon be called into action. Germany was believed to be in such desperate straits that it was thought she would venture to send her fleet to sea after three and a half years of hiding in the Kiel Canal.
High hopes and some doubt went with the Kennebunk as she steamed out of the harbor and into the storm. Not alone were her officers and crew anxious to find out what she could do. The rulers of the United States Navy were deeply concerned as well.