And Ned had some mementoes of the Great War that he intended giving to a certain girl back in Cresville. Now, he reflected, they might soon be at the bottom of the sea. Well, “c’est la guerre!”
Up on deck it seemed to be a scene of great confusion, but, in reality, the officers, both those of the army and the ship, under Captain Munson of the Sherman, had the situation well in hand. The confusion was seeming only, for the men were being sent in squads to their respective boat stations. Sailors were seeing to it that the falls of the small craft were clear, and that life rafts were free for launching. Others were making sure that each boat or raft contained food and water.
Of course the orders were that they should always be in that prepared condition, but, like everything else human, there might have been a failure. Captain Munson, however, was trusting nothing to chance, and at this eleventh hour no risk was to be assumed lest some wretched refugees might starve or die of thirst if their boat or raft drifted away. As it was, however, all the boats and other floating bits of sea apparatus were found to be well stocked.
Life preservers and cork rings were put where they could be instantly gotten at, and, this much accomplished, all those who had taken their places at the boats awaited further orders.
In spite of the fact that the war was practically over and that all German submarines had been recalled, it was felt that there was great danger on the open sea from floating mines, or perhaps a stray torpedo that might have failed to find its mark. There was more danger, of course, to a big moving ship in this respect, than to small boats whose speed would be slower, and which did not float as deeply as the drifting mines were submerged below the surface.
But, even with all that potential danger, the soldiers and sailors remained wonderfully calm and in good cheer. They stood waiting, models of discipline in every respect.
Questions flew back and forth, but no one really knew what had happened. Ned’s information was as good as any, and this seemed to be the most acceptable explanation.
Every one knew that the engine room force had been trying desperately ever since the disablement of the Sherman to get the machinery in working condition again. And it might well be that some weakened steam pipe had burst with disastrous results to the transport, if not to human life below decks.
At the same time, Ned could not help thinking that the explosion—if there had been one—might have been caused by a bomb cunningly planted by some German spy, or, now that the war was over and spies were no longer needed, sympathizer. And in that connection he must needs think of Dr. Hallet.
The scientist was assigned to a boat some distance away from Ned’s station, so the lad had no further chance to talk to the queer little man and hear the explanation which was promised.