CHAPTER XXIV—THE BLIND CHASE
The excitement of the dash for the embattling ships left the Colodia’s company no thought for anything else. Even dinner had been half-neglected, although that came early in the race.
As for weather indications or the like, nobody thought of such things. And here suddenly appeared a phenomenon that bade fair to help the Germans and place the destroyer in a less confident position.
The American ship had arrived just in time to save the Ferret; her upperworks were badly wrecked although providentially the wireless outfit of the British ship was not crippled.
One of her guns was put out of commission and a shell under the stern had knocked out the propeller just as the Colodia entered the fight. She swung now to the slow current, and as the destroyer rushed past her the British crew could only cheer her on. Their work was done—and done well!
But here came a cloud rolling along the surface of the sea from the south that offered shelter for the raider, the prow of which was already turned in that direction. The German had no intention of remaining to fight the battle out with the guns of the destroyer.
The raider was not, of course, any match for the American naval vessel. It was the part of wisdom for her to run. Besides, she was already crippled, and it would have been but a matter of a few minutes before she would either have to capitulate or be sunk had she continued in the fight. The Colodia might even have kept out of range of the raider’s guns, circled about the German, and destroyed her at pleasure. Or she could have sent a torpedo against the pirate ship and blown her to bits.
Here, however, fortune helped the enemy. The cloud of fog laid along the surface of the sea offered the Sea Pigeon refuge. She proved again that she was a “wary bird!”
Into the cloud she dashed, and where she went after that—although the fog bank was low—the lookouts of the Colodia could not tell.
“If we only had a hydroplane to send up!” said Whistler Morgan to his chums. “The time will come when every destroyer will have its pair of hydroplanes for observation. From a thousand feet up, that fog would never shelter the raider. The hydroplane could signal us the raider’s position and we’d follow her just as though it were clear weather.”
In this case, however, the commander of the destroyer did not wish to desert the Ferret until he had learned her condition. The Colodia described a wide circle and steamed back within hailing distance of the crippled British ship.
Fortunately there were no women or other passengers aboard this vessel. Her wounded were few, too. The hull of the craft had not suffered. Already her machinists were at work on the propeller. They had new blades in the hold, and the end of the shaft was not injured. They proposed to sweat on the new propeller, make such other repairs as were necessary, and then attempt to limp into the Bermuda station under her own steam.
“You can’t beat those fellows!” said Ensign MacMasters admiringly. “The merchant sailors nowadays have more to face than we do, and with less chance of getting safely out of a scrimmage. I wouldn’t want to be hobbling along in that cripple to the Bermudas with that German pirate in the vicinity.”
Just where the Sea Pigeon had gone behind the fog they could only surmise. But Commander Lang ordered a course south by west, hoping that the raider would turn up again.
Phil Morgan and George Belding had time to think of the Redbird and her precious freight once more. It was little satisfaction for either to know that Sparks and his assistants were on the lookout for messages from the sailing ship.
Nothing came up that night to give the anxious boys any satisfaction. Sparks reported nothing in the morning. But as the hour drew near when the mysterious messages usually came over, both Belding and Whistler Morgan hung about the door of the radio room.
The radio chief knew just how anxious they were and he did not scold them. Soon after dinner he sent George to the bench to try to pick up the uncertain sounds that he believed came from the Redbird’s wireless.
George could only get a letter now and then. The sending—if it was it—was weaker than before. In desperation the youth began to send himself:
“I,I,I, (aye,aye,aye) Colodia!”
He repeated this over and over again. An hour passed before he got what seemed to be a direct answer. Then:
“Colodia! Help! Redbird!”
Belding fairly shouted aloud in his excitement. But when he turned to see Mr. Sparks and the others at the door watching him, he subsided and began to send calmly:
“Give position! Give position! Redbird, give position!”
This went on for some time, and then he caught the grating and uncertain sound of what he was confident was his sister’s sending. He tuned his instrument up and down the scale before getting the best adjustment. Out of the air he finally received letters which he wrote down falteringly and passed to Mr. Sparks and Whistler. While the message was being repeated the radio man and Phil Morgan made out the following paragraph:
“Ship Redbird for Bahia seized by German mutineers. Position, lat. 17, long. 59. Help!—L. Belding.”
“It’s Lilian, all right! Hurray!” exclaimed Whistler, and Belding heard him.
The latter was now repeating, again and again, the announcement that the Colodia heard the message and was coming. Sparks hurried away to seek Commander Lang with the news. The position of the sailing ship was within easy reach of the destroyer.
But the messages stopped suddenly. Not another word came from the Redbird. Belding came away from the instrument at last, feeling anything but hopeful.
“Something’s happened to her,” he whispered to Morgan. “I fear Lilian has got into trouble by her work at the Redbird’s wireless. What do you think, Phil?”
“I am not going to lose hope. We will find the ship and rescue our folks from the mutineers. Don’t doubt it, George!”
It was difficult to keep up their courage, however, when there was so much uncertainty regarding the sailing ship’s condition. It might be, too, that the latitude and longitude was several points off. A full degree is sixty miles, and sixty miles is a long way across the ocean!
Just before dark they raised the smoke of a steamer ahead and sailing athwart the destroyer’s course. This surely could not be the Redbird; yet the destroyer could not allow the stranger to pass without investigation.
Her radio could get no answer from the ship. It seemed as though the stranger was running away from the Colodia. Naturally suspicion was aroused in the minds of the commander that it was the Sea Pigeon.
But it became a blind chase as night fell upon them. They saw no lights, and the tropical night comes so suddenly that to have overtaken the steamship before dark was an utter impossibility. The destroyer swung back into her direct course for the point from which the last radio message of the Redbird was supposed to have come.