CHAPTER I New Worlds to Conquer
"LOOK, Dick, what's that out there in the water right on the line of that ventilator?"
Jay Thacker, ensign in the Navy of the United States, veteran of many months' service in the grand fleet of the American Admiral Sims in European waters, grabbed his old chum Dick Monaghan by the coat sleeve and pointed a long lean finger out to the open expanse of sea.
The two bronzed boys, rugged and fit after their experiences of the Great War, erect and sturdy looking in their natty uniforms, stood on the aft deck of the giant Leviathan, United States army transport, once the pride of the German merchant marine, now a carrier of men and merchandise sailing under the Stars and Stripes.
Homeward bound were they after two years' service in the naval branch of their country's armed forces. Once ordinary seamen Richard Monaghan and Jay Thacker, back in the days when they had left Brighton Academy on a balmy spring morning to enlist in the Navy, they were coming back Ensigns Monaghan and Thacker, if you please! By virtue of their splendid records while with the American fleet, they had won the deserved promotions that had brought them to their present rank.
Through many weary months they had labored in the mine-sweeping section of the fleet, alternating with the French and English in clearing the North Sea of the deadly floating bombs set adrift by the scions of the German eagle, who sought thus to destroy those riding battleships that had awaited all in vain the coming out of the monster German fleet from the safe retreat of the Kiel Canal. It had been hard, tedious, dangerous work; work to sorely try the nerve and patience of men whose great desire had been to meet the Hun in the open sea in a free-for-all fight.
But better things had remained in store for these two valiant sons of Brighton who had turned their backs on their dear old alma mater to honor the call of their country. It had been allotted to them, along with other chosen men of the American fleet, to lay the famous mine barrier across the northern bottle of the North Sea—from the craggy shores of Scotland to the embracing waters of the Scandinavian countries. And it had been a great day when the marvelous task had been completed, but there followed a greater day when the first of the German raiders had run afoul of the mighty barrier and had been "knocked for a goal" as Dick put it. What a rejoicing when the President of the United States and the Secretary of the Navy had cabled the thanks of a grateful nation to every last man in the fleet for this splendid bit of service that had written a new chapter high in the pages of Yankee naval history!
Now it was all over; the long days and nights of untiring vigils, of tempestuous tussles with the elements, and hard, unrelenting toil. Back home now to the country they had left in the long ago; to the old friends and familiar places they had dreamed about in the monotony of the long night hours at sea. Two years away from home and dear old Brighton! The hours dragged slowly while the great ship Leviathan ploughed the deep with her cargo of enlisted officers and men, now mustered out of service and awaiting only the lowering of the gangplank at Hoboken until they would be back again in "civvies" and the comforts of life again.
"What do you mean? I don't see anything," replied Dick in answer to his chum's startled exclamation.