CHAPTER XXIII—THE SEA PIGEON IN SIGHT
George Belding was for running right off to the radio chief, Mr. Sparks, to ask another chance to listen in on the wireless for further messages from the Redbird. The supposition that Germans in her crew had mutinied and seized his father’s ship became at once a certainty in George’s mind.
Whistler, however, with his usual cautiousness, steadied his friend.
“There is no use making such an application now, George,” he said. “There will be none of this ‘ghost-talk’ in the air at this hour.”
“Oh!”
“You know, they only hear those messages in the afternoon watch. That is the only time, in all probability, that your sister can get to the radio. The rest of the time, perhaps, the regular radio man is on duty, and he is probably in league with the mutineers.”
“My goodness, Phil!” ejaculated Belding, “that word ‘mutineers’ makes me tremble.”
“It suggests the rough stuff, all right,” agreed the Seacove lad. “I hope my sisters and your folks will not be treated too outrageously by the gang that has got possession of your father’s ship.”
“If we could only find them! We’re tied here on this old iron pot—”
“Hold on! Don’t malign the Colodia. We may be glad for their sakes that we are on this destroyer.”
“I don’t see it. I wish I was on the Redbird.”
“A fat chance! With those Germans committing acts of barratry like painting out the Redbird’s name! That shows they are desperate men. And what could we do to them if we were in their power?”
“What help can we give the folks from this distance?” groaned Belding.
“This is a matter that will have to be brought to the attention of the Old Man, George. I am going to speak to Mr. MacMasters and ask him to get us a chance to interview Commander Lang.”
“Will he listen to us, do you think?”
“Of course he will,” said Whistler with confidence.
The two friends could scarcely sleep in their watch below, and in the morning their anxiety was apparent to the other boys.
Whistler watched for his chance and spoke to Ensign MacMasters. The ensign would do anything within reason for Whistler and his friends. He considered the four Seacove lads about the finest boys aboard the Colodia.
Upon hearing the story of the mystery message he became vastly interested. He went to see Sparks first of all, and then hurried to Commander Lang’s cabin. One reason why Mr. MacMasters was so eager to see the commander was because Sparks had told him that during the previous evening an operator at the Weather Bureau station at Arlington, Virginia, had asked the Colodia’s chief radio man:
“Have you caught message being put out for Colodia?”
While a radio man on the troopship Kinkadia demanded:
“Anybody named Belding on Colodia? He appears to be wanted by a ham.”
Which was not a very respectful way of referring to George’s sister. It showed, however, that Lilian’s uncertain sending was attracting attention at several points.
It was mid-forenoon before the two friends were called into the presence of Commander Lang. Belding was bashful and allowed Whistler to do most of the talking. And he was impressed by the ease and coolness with which his friend went about the matter.
Commander Lang met Phil Morgan as he would have met another man. There was nothing “kiddish about Whistler,” Al had once said. The commander of the Colodia examined the messages as the boys believed they were intended to read. He at once approved the application of George Belding to be attached to the radio squad until further notice. He sent for Sparks and heard his story of the mystery message. In every way he showed an acute interest in the affair.
If the Redbird was somewhere at sea in charge of mutineers—Germans at that!—to find her would be a task for the Colodia. But as Whistler had immediately seen, it was agreed that to discover the course of the Redbird and her daily position by the sun were the most important points.
The boys were most impatient for the time to come when George would take his “trick” at the radio instrument again. This would not be until the afternoon watch, when the radio man then on duty had orders to give the instrument over to George if the “ghost-talk” again was heard.
It had been decided that George should try to reply to the mysterious call. By spelling out the name of his father’s ship, the Redbird, or calling Lilian Belding by name, it might be possible to communicate with the vessel and send a word of courage to the passengers. The desire was to encourage the sender of the strange message to repeat again and again the Redbird’s situation.
It was only possible to guess at the course of the ship bound for Bahia, as well as her present position. Lilian Belding had doubtless called for the Colodia because her brother and Whistler Morgan served on that naval vessel, not because she had any idea as to where the destroyer was.
The two vessels might be a desperately long distance apart. That fact could not be overlooked. The boys were in a fever of expectation.
As it drew near eight bells of the forenoon watch there came a message by wireless that was even more exciting for most of the crew than the mystery of the “ghost-talk.”
“An S O S!” whispered the messenger to George Belding as he darted from the radio station to the bridge.
Swiftly the watch officer read the message: “H. M. S. S. Ferret, from Porto Rico for Liverpool, attacked by German cruiser Sea Pigeon, lat. twenty-one, long. fifty-eight. S O S.”
The exciting information was instantly communicated two ways—to the commander’s cabin and to the chief engineer. The Colodia leaped forward, conned on her new course at once. They were off in another race to overtake the elusive German raider—and this time, perhaps, to find her.
“But we may be going right away from the Redbird!” Belding complained to the other boys.
“On the other hand, we don’t know but it may be taking us right toward your father’s vessel,” Whistler said, trying to comfort his friend.
He felt worried himself about it. There would be no chance to try to reach the Redbird by radio during the afternoon watch. Whistler was just as anxious as Belding; only he kept these feelings much more to himself.
The radio sparked message after message to and from the British ship. The Colodia was the only naval craft within possible reach of the spot from which the call came, although there were both British cruisers and torpedo boats on the Bermuda and Bahama stations.
But they were heavy craft, and it would have taken days for a boat from either station to reach the point indicated by the Ferret. Whereas, with good fortune, the American destroyer’s engines would drive her to the spot in three hours.
Could the British merchant vessel keep up the unequal fight for that length of time? The German must have already engaged her, or the radio message from the Ferret as first transmitted would not have been so exact.
From out of the air came messages from all directions urging the Colodia on. The Ferret’s S O S and the destroyer’s answer had been picked up by both ship and land stations. Ships long out of range, it would seem, became interested in the attempt to “get” the raider which had already cut such a swath among shipping in the Atlantic.
Remembering the fate of the Susanne, the crew of the Colodia had some reason for believing that this dash of the good destroyer was a “long shot.” It seemed scarcely possible that she would arrive at the scene of the fight in time to save the merchant ship from complete disaster.
Yet the radio messages were encouraging. After an hour the Ferret reported no serious damage done and that they had put two shells aboard their pursuer from their well-manned deck guns.
“Well done, Ferret!” flashed the destroyer’s radio. “Keep up the good work.”
Yet every moment it was expected aboard the Colodia that either the wireless on the steamship would be destroyed, or she would report serious injury to her machinery. The raider would, of course, strive to place her shells where they would utterly cripple her victim—either under the stern and smash the propellers, or amidships and burst boilers or wreck engines.
The Colodia’s crew were ordered to stations, more for the sake of keeping order on deck than for aught else. Every man who could be spared from below was ranged along the decks. Gun covers were removed, breech blocks looked to, and every man was keyed to a high pitch.
“Talk about efficiency!” growled Ensign MacMasters. “We’ve got it. Just because the Germans have been abusing the word is no reason why we should not properly use it. They are often efficient to a useless end; but we’ll show that sea-raider, if we get a chance, that the old Colodia is more efficient than a German ever dared be!”
The destroyer plowed on and on, while every minute that elapsed without their hearing that the Ferret was wrecked encouraged hope. Now and again word came that the British ship, with dogged persistency, was holding out. She had been hit now several times, and the Sea Pigeon was reported as being almost on top of her. Still she was providentially saved from disaster.
Through the heat of a tropical noontide the destroyer rushed on toward the fight. The crew looked for no shelter now, they only desired to see the smoke of the guns ahead.
And before six bells of the afternoon watch they had the desire of their eyes! The lookouts began to yell the glad tidings to the bridge, and the crew took up the news with a mighty shout.
The wind was against their hearing the guns at first, but finally the thundering roll of the weapons reached the ears of the Americans. The Colodia seemed to increase her speed. The smoke rolled back from her stacks and lay flat along the sea as though painted there with one stroke of a giant brush.
Within a few minutes they could see balloons of smoke billowing up ahead, but these were from no ship afire. They were the announcement of gun discharges.
On the destroyer tore through the quiet sea. The lookouts hailed for the upperworks of the Ferret. Another message came by radio that the attacked steamship had seen and hailed with delight her rescuer.
The explosion of the guns ahead brought joy to the hearts of the Colodia’s crew. There was the prospect of a real fight! The smoke of the raider was announced. The destroyer’s course was swerved ever so slightly that she might pass the battered Ferret and draw the fire of the German from the merchant ship.
Then the order was given, and her own guns began to speak. It was at long range, but the marksmanship of American gun crews had become really wonderful. The high, shrieking shells sought out the German ship, and within the first dozen sent over, the radio man on the Ferret reported a “strike.” One of the Sea Pigeon’s smokestacks was carried away!
The fight was on. The Americans hoped to get near enough to the German boat to bring her to terms within a very short time.