As they drew nearer, those on the destroyers could see a wild waving of hats by the soldiers crowding the decks of the leading transports. One moment the hat-waving was visible; then as suddenly it ceased, and the spar decks were nearly bare of men, for mess-call had sounded for breakfast. The only soldier who fails to answer mess call is a sick or a dead one.
“Follow second destroyer on port line,” came the signal from the leading destroyer to the “Logan.” “After taking position meet any emergency according to best judgment.”
So the “Logan” raced along to the north of the fleet, then made a swift, curving sweep and moved into the assigned position.
From the decks of the nearest transports, soldiers, as they returned from their meal, blithely waved their caps again. Cheering was forbidden, as such noise would drown out orders that might be given for the handling of the ship. But those Of Dave’s jackies who could, waved back good-humoredly.
For some minutes after taking position, Darrin found himself running along with the troopship “Cumberland,” and the distance between them was but a few hundred yards.
Dave had turned to watch the movements of the destroyer ahead in the line when he heard a starboard lookout call:
“Torpedo coming, sir, on the port beam!”
Like a flash Darrin wheeled to behold the oncoming trail.
Lieutenant Curtin, now on the bridge watch, gave quartermaster and engine-room swift orders, while Ensign Phelps signalled the “Cumberland.”
Like a racehorse in full career, the “Logan” bounded forward and made a sharp turn to port. At the same time the “Cumberland” obliqued sharply to starboard.