CHAPTER IV
A SUBMARINE'S REVENGE
All now waited on Eph's word during the next few moments.
If the "Hastings," striking on that stub of a submerged mast, had had her plates so badly sprang that pumping would not drive out the water as fast as it came in, then this newest of the submarines was doomed to go to the bottom.
All that would then remain to those aboard would be to take to the ocean.
True, they had life-preservers aboard, and with these, officers and men could keep afloat.
In the icy waters of a February night, however, with something like fifteen miles to swim to mainland through an ever-roughening sea, it was almost impossible that the strongest among them could hope to reach shore alive.
Yet, desperately anxious as he was to know the news, Jack Benson did not desert his post by the steering wheel. Some one must be there. Nor had Hal thought of leaving the engine room.
So the naval lieutenant remained with Benson, duplicating, in those awful moments, the boy's cool courage.
It was Ewald who presently came running up the stairs to report.
"Mr. Somers orders me to report that there's a little trickle of water coming in between two plates about twelve feet abaft of the bow, sir. But Mr. Somers believes that, even without pumping, we could run forty miles without serious danger, sir."
Knowing his friend's ability and good judgment as he did, Jack Benson stood ready to accept that report, without question. But Lieutenant Danvers inquired:
"Did you see the leak, Ewald?"
"Yes, sir."
"What do you think about it?"
"Why, sir, I agree with Mr. Somers."
"I believe I'll go down and take a look at the leak," announced Danvers, slowly.
"Then, while you're gone," said Benson, "I'll keep the searchlight steadily on what I can see of the top of that mast-stump."
"Why not keep on in toward the shore?"
"Because, sir," and Jack's jaws snapped, "if we've been insulted in this fashion by an old derelict, I don't believe in letting the old derelict get off so easily, sir."
Lieutenant Danvers knitted his brow, thoughtfully, as he hurried down the stairs, then followed Ewald through a steel trapway into the cramped compartments under the cabin flooring.
In three or four minutes Mr. Danvers came up again.
"It's all right," he said. "I can't see that the leak threatens to become serious, unless we should happen to hit that mast-stump again."
"I believed it was all right," the young captain replied, quietly, "after having heard Mr. Somers's report."
"You three boys certainly stick together and admire each other, don't you?" laughed Danvers.
"We've every reason to, sir. We three have been trained together in this work. No one of the three knows anything that the others don't," came Benson's matter-of-fact reply.
"When I went below you made some remark about not letting the derelict off too easily, Benson. What did you mean?"
"Why, I believe we ought to get square with that old sunken hulk," retorted Captain Jack, wheeling around and eyeing the naval officer.
"Great Scott! You mean that we ought to blow up the derelict?"
"Isn't it usually the Navy, sir, that gets such jobs to do?"
"Yes, yes, Benson. But the Navy Department always sends out a vessel fitted for such work."
"This is a submarine boat. We have one loaded torpedo left on board. Don't you think we answer the description of a vessel fitted for destroying a derelict?" smiled Captain Jack, coolly. "To say nothing of the itch, for revenge that we feel."
"It'll be a ticklish business," muttered Danvers, thoughtfully.
"So is a lot of the Navy's work, isn't it?" persisted Captain Jack.
"See here, lad, do you really mean that you want to make a sure-enough job of blowing up the derelict?"
"That's what I'm staying here for, sir," rejoined Jack, again swinging the searchlight. "And over there, three hundred yards yonder, I can still make out, once in a while, that bit of mast. What do you say, Lieutenant?"
"Why, if you boys have the grit to go ahead and tackle a job like that in the night, the Navy isn't going to feel chilled and run away," laughed Danvers, shortly. "Yet, my boy, do you think you fully understand the dangers of the undertaking?"
"I think I do," nodded Captain Jack.
"It's to be a duel between this submarine and the old derelict. You can't just hang off like this over here, and shoot at that mast. That wouldn't do any good."
"Yes, I know all that," said Jack, eagerly.
"Then what's your plan, Benson?"
"Why, sir, we've got, first of all, to sail as close as we dare to that mast-stump. Then we've got to use a sounding line to find out in which direction the hull of the sunken derelict lies. We must also get an idea of the length of the hull. Then, having gotten our figures, we'll have to glide back a little way, so as to give a right-angle broadside on at the hull of the derelict. Before firing the torpedo we'll first have to go far enough below water so that we'll know we're in fair line with that sunken hull yonder, for we've got to make our one loaded torpedo do the trick."
"You've got the figures down all right," nodded Lieutenant Danvers, thoughtfully. "The risky part is in trying to run over that derelict's sunken hull in order to locate it and make your soundings. Now, you run a big chance of running plumb on to some other stump of a mast. The 'Hastings' may easily get an injury, from the stump of another mast, that may tear a real hole in our plates and send us all to the bottom."
"There's danger to be considered in any submarine game really worth the while," assented Captain Jack Benson, coolly. "Do you feel then, Mr. Danvers, that we should be satisfied to drive back to Dunhaven and content ourselves with wiring the Navy Department news of the derelict and of her present position?"
Lieutenant Danvers thoughtfully gazed at the young submarine commander's face.
"No," he muttered, at last. "I think the best thing for a fellow like you, Jack Benson, will be to wade in and get your revenge! And make it as complete as you can!"
"All right, sir," nodded Jack. "Thank you. And now, we'll see how complete a job we can make of it. Mr. Somers!"
"Aye, aye, sir," answered Eph, from below.
"Are you going to consult with your crew?" whispered Danvers.
"They're not the kind of fellows who need consulting," muttered Captain Jack. "All they want is their orders. Mr. Somers, bring up the sounding line."
"Aye, aye, sir."
In a moment more young Somers was in the conning tower, and Jack, sounding line in hand, was out on the platform deck, where Lieutenant Danvers followed him.
Eph knew, by this time, what was wanted of him. Hal, in the engine room, was, as yet, ignorant of the game, but all Hal had to do was to obey engine room signals promptly.
Sending the submarine craft ahead at very slow speed, Eph steered as close to the bobbing masthead as the young captain deemed safe. Jack shouted his orders back as he and Lieutenant Danvers crouched over the nose of the boat.
In the rough sea that was running their work was doubly hard. But Eph kept the searchlight all the time turned in the direction of the top of the bobbing mast stump. In a circle they went around it, barely thirty feet from the broken mast, Jack heaving the sounding lead.
At last he felt it rest on the deck of the sunken derelict. The distance below was six fathoms—thirty-six feet.
"Now, we've got the line of the hull," called Benson to the lieutenant.
"Our next job is to find how far back this hull runs under the water."
This knowledge, also, was gained, at last. Then Jack Benson, rising, hastened back to the conning tower, followed by Danvers. Jack himself closed the manhole, while Eph still trained the searchlight through the darkness of the night. Stormy weather was threatening.
"Now, hustle below, Eph, and get that loaded torpedo into the tube," commanded Skipper Jack Benson.
"My men will help you," added Lieutenant Danvers.
Jack quickly had his figures made. He knew where the hull lay, in what direction, and how far below the surface the deck of the sunken derelict lay. He planned to land the torpedo twelve feet below the derelict's deck, which, he believed, would strike a full and fair blow.
"Torpedo's loaded, sir," called Eph, while the "Hastings," under slow speed astern, was gliding back to get into position for the attack.
"Station Biffens by the firing lever, then," called down Captain Benson.
"Tell him to fire on the instant that he gets the order. Now, Mr.
Somers, stand by the submerging apparatus. Drop just forty-two feet
below the surface, then report instantly to me."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Lieutenant Danvers stood by the submarine boy, intently watching, listening, and digesting Benson's plan. Yet the naval officer ventured no interference.
In another moment the hull of the "Hastings" began to disappear under the waves.
"Forty-two feet—sir—and—stopped!" shouted up Eph Somers.
"Ready to fire!" Jack hailed.
"Aye, aye, sir!"
"Fire!"
"Fire it is, sir."
"Have you fired, Mr. Somers?" rolled down Jack's next question.
"Yes, sir."
"Then turn on the compressed air, and bring us to the surface."
"Aye, aye, sir!"
The instant that the conning tower stood up, dripping, through the waves,
Jack turned on searchlight again. Slow speed ahead he next signaled.
As the piercing rays of light gleamed out over the waters before them the surface of the sea ahead was seen to be covered with floating litter.
"Jove, look at the wreckage!" uttered Lieutenant Danvers, jubilantly. "Everything about that old derelict that could float has come up to the surface."
"Do you think the derelict is utterly smashed, sir?" inquired Jack Benson, respectfully, for this trained naval officer knew more about such things than he did.
"That derelict is blown to kindling wood," exclaimed Danvers, himself manipulating the searchlight as they sailed through a sea littered with small wreckage. "That derelict will never menace any skipper afloat, from now on. Benson, lad, you did a wonderfully keen job."
"You don't think there'd be any risk, then, in sailing back and forth amid this wreckage?" asked Jack.
"Risk? Not a bit," retorted Danvers. "Why, look over there!" as he swung the searchlight in a new direction. "There's that submerged mast-stump, free of the wreck and floating horizontally, now."
Nor was it long before it was clear to trained eyes that the sunken derelict had been efficiently blown up. That water-logged ghost of a ship would never again be a source of peril to navigators.
"Now, you can turn your nose for Dunhaven, and with a clear conscience," chuckled Lieutenant Danvers. "And, while you're doing that, I'm going below for another look at the little leak."
Jack ran the "Hastings" the first few miles of her homeward course.
Then he called Eph Somers to the wheel and went below to relax.
It was well on toward eight o'clock when the "Hastings" ran into the little harbor at Dunhaven and made moorings. The night watchman of the yard rowed out to meet them, bringing the news that Mr. Farnum, in the "Benson," had picked up the crew of the "Mary Bond" from two small boats at sea.
There was a light in the office, so Jack's party went inside. There they found Jacob Farnum at his desk, putting the finishing touches to a telegram.
"By Jove, I'm glad we went out after the poor fellows of the 'Mary Bond,'" cried Mr. Farnum, wheeling around. "We found them in sore straits, in two small boats, with only a pair of oars to each boat, and the sea roughening up every minute. They lost their fishing smack. Their boat struck on the stump of a mast of a sunken derelict. The smack sprung a big leak, this morning, and went down. I've just written a telegram to the Navy Department, Mr. Danvers, advising them of the location of the derelict as well as I could gather it from the captain of the late 'Mary Bond.'" With this, he handed Danvers the telegram he had written.
Lieutenant Danvers glanced at the telegram, and then handed it back with a smile.
"What do you mean, sir?" demanded Jacob Farnum, wonderingly.
"The telegram isn't necessary—that's all," replied the naval officer, with a smile. "We encountered that same sunken derelict—and Jack Benson blew her to smithereens!"