CHAPTER XVII—THE SPITFIRE
That was a great race, as the boys declared. The engines of the Colodia seemed to pick her right up and fling her onward over the sea.
They passed no other ship, and after the breakdown of the Western Star’s wireless, they got but vague whispers out of the air, and nothing at all about the huge German submarine that was attacking the British freighter.
The lookout tops were filled with excited men and boys; every member of the crew was on the alert. Tearing on through the calm sea, the destroyer reeled off the miles as fast as ever she had since her launching.
Two hours passed. Keen ears distinguished intermittent explosions from a southerly direction. Then a smudge of smoke appeared on the horizon, as though a giant’s thumb had been smeared just above the sea line.
“There she is!” went up the cry from the destroyer’s crew.
Their eagerness was increased, were that possible. As the cloud of smoke grew, they were all aware that it was from a ship in flames. For some reason the submarine had not torpedoed the freighter, but had set her aflame with fire bombs.
Had the crew of the steamship been given a chance to escape? That question was really the mainspring of the Americans’ desire to reach in such a hurry the scene of the catastrophe.
There was the thought of vengeance, too. If they could but overtake the German pirates and punish them as they deserved!
“It is all very well,” said Belding, “to put forth the excuse that these Heinies only do what they are ordered to do. But how many of us Yankees, for instance, would obey our officers if they ordered us to commit such fiendish crimes as these submarine crews do, right along?”
The chance that the German submarine would remain in the vicinity of the freighter till she sank, was not overlooked by the commander of the Colodia. All on board were urged to keep their eyes open for the first sign of the enemy.
But it was the refugees from the Western Star that the destroyer first raised—a flotilla of small boats being pulled steadily to the eastward where lay the islands surrounding Teneriffe.
The Colodia kept away from the survivors, fearing that she might draw the fire of the submarine and that thereby the safety of the small boats would be endangered.
The Western Star was a roaring furnace, from stem to stern. The smoke and flame billowed out from her sides, offering a picture of devastation that was fairly awe-inspiring.
But the sea immediately about the burning ship, as far as the Colodia’s crew could see, was quite empty. There was no sign of the enemy submarine.
A signalman called to the bridge, flagged the survivors, and a man arose in the leading boat to answer. The Americans made out that the German submarine had been in the vicinity until within a very few minutes. She had but recently disappeared beyond the burning steamship, but had not at that time submerged.
Commander Lang gave orders for a dash around the stern of the Western Star. It was hoped that the approach of the destroyer might have escaped the notice of the submarine’s commander.
Suddenly there was heard an explosion of a shell in the hull of the burning ship. A great balloon of smoke belched forth and the craft shook from bow to stern. It was evident that the Germans were getting impatient and wished the big freighter to sink.
The gunners of the destroyer were at their stations. There was a chance that they would get a shot at the submarine before she could submerge.
The Colodia roared on, rounding the stern of the doomed ship. Another shell burst within her fire-racked hull; a second explosion followed, and the hull fairly fell apart amidships!
Then the American destroyer dashed into view of the enemy. The big submarine lay only two cable lengths from the sinking ship, all her upper works visible to the excited Americans. Even her conning tower was open.
She really did look like a small freighter, even at that distance. She had collapsible masts and smokestacks, and there were more than a dozen men on her deck. It would take some time to submerge such a craft. Plainly the Germans had not apprehended the approach of the American destroyer.
“Hurrah, boys!” yelled one of the petty officers, “we’re going to take tea with Heinie!”
A roar of voices went up from the decks of the destroyer in reply to this cheer. A gun fore and aft spoke; both crews had been ordered to fire at the same object. That was the open conning tower of the submarine.
If ever American shells fell true, those two did! Right at the start the submarine’s chances for escape were made nil. The conning tower was wrecked and the craft could not safely submerge.
But she could fight. Her gunners turned their weapons on the destroyer, and the shells began to shriek through the upperworks of the fast naval ship. There were several casualties aboard the Colodia within the first few minutes.
But the submarine’s most dangerous projectiles, the auto-torpedoes, could not be successfully used. As the destroyer swept past, the Germans sent one of these sharklike things full at her. But the Colodia darted between the submarine and the flaming ship, and the projectile passed her stern, landing full against the side of the Western Star.
The reverberating crash of the explosion was enough to wreck one’s eardrums, so near was it. But all the time the destroyer was giving the crippled submarine broadside after broadside of guns; the upperworks of the German craft were fast becoming a twisted mass of wreckage!
Again and again the Americans’ guns swept the fated submarine. But the latter was a spitfire. Behind armored fortresses her men fired her guns with a rapidity that could but arouse the admiration of the boys on the Colodia.
“Got to hand it to the Heinies!” yelled somebody. “They have bulldog pluck.”
“Put a shell where it will do some good, boys!” begged one of the officers. “We haven’t landed a hit in her ‘innards’—and that is where the shells tell.”
“My goodness!” gasped Whistler, working beside Al Torrance on one of the forward guns, “that shell told something—believe me!”
The shot he meant seemed to have exploded under the deck of the submarine. Yards upon yards of the armorplate was lifted and splintered as a baseball might splinter a window.
The destroyer was rounding the submarine at top speed. Volley after volley was poured into the rocking German craft. One shell wiped out a deck gun and all the Germans manning it. The slaughter was terrible.
And yet her remaining guns were worked with precision—with desperate precision. She could not hold the range as the Americans did, but her crew showed courage as well as perfect training. The position of the submarine was hopeless, yet they fought on.
Sweat was pouring into Phil Morgan’s eyes as he worked with his crew members over the hot gun. The sun was scorching, anyway; it was the very hottest place he and Al Torrance had ever got into, counting the big fight when they were with the Kennebunk, and all!
The destroyer received very little punishment. If the submarine did fight like a spitfire, her shells accomplished little damage.
The Americans saw the big burning steamship fall apart in the middle and sink after the torpedo struck her. Great waves lifted their crests over the spot, and it was at this time the submarine was put in the greatest danger.
The spreading billows caught the helpless submersible and tossed her on their crests. Those on the Colodia saw the Germans running about the deck like ants about a disturbed ant hill. Then a huge wave topped the ship and broke over her!
A cheer started among the crew of the destroyer. But it was quenched in a moment. When the great wave rolled past they saw that the submarine had been flung upon its side and that it was sinking.
“She’s going down, boys! She’s going down!” cried George Belding. “Don’t cheer any more—now.”
Indeed the awful sight completely checked cheering. It is all right to fight an enemy; it is another matter to see that enemy sink beneath the waves.
And the strangeness of this incident impressed the lads seriously as well. The submarine’s own act had sunk her. She had been overborne by a wave from the sinking of the freighter.
“She brought about her own punishment,” remarked Whistler, voicing the general opinion of the crew of the American destroyer. “In other words, it was coming to them and they got it!”