By this time only one hydroairplane remained with the head of the fleet, which was believed to have passed through the submarine ambush. The others and a decided majority of the destroyers were now maneuvering anywhere from the middle to the rear end of the transports.
Finally the fight centered on the tail end of the transport fleet. Here the submarines were doing their best to “get” a transport.
Another hour, and the fleet believed itself to be clear of that submarine concentration. Not that vigilance was relaxed, however. No troopship had been struck to-day, but the fine work might be easily undone by carelessness on the part of either hydroairplane or destroyer commanders.
Two hours after the attack began Darrin received signalled orders to return to his former position in the escort line.
“Thus endeth the second chapter—apparently,” commented Danny Grin.
During this engagement, as on the day before, the soldiers who crowded the destroyer had been ordered from the decks during the fight. They were now notified that they might come out.
It was one o’clock in the afternoon when the leading hydroairplane signalled a report that the sea ahead was strewn with wreckage. Ship after ship sailed through this mute evidence of the enemy’s presence and detestable work. Spars with clinging cordage floated by. Wooden hatchcovers, overturned boats, oars, chairs, wooden boxes, bales of soaked cotton and what-not were in the litter that strewed the sea over a broad area.
One of the overturned lifeboats was overhauled. The name on her stern showed that she belonged to a nine-thousand-ton freighter, carrying a naval gun crew and fore and after guns.
“The loss of the ship is bad enough,” said Dave, soberly, “but there is nothing to indicate how many lives were lost.”
An hour later, however, three boats, containing some forty men, women and children, were overhauled. The freighter had carried passengers.