Dave Darrin and the German Submarines Read online

  CHAPTER I

  ON THE SEA PATROL

  "Anything sighted?" called Lieutenant-Commander Dave Darrin as hestepped briskly from the little chart-room back of the wheel-house andturned his face toward the bridge.

  "Nothing, sir, all afternoon," responded Lieutenant Dan Dalzell from thebridge.

  Dave ran lightly up the steps, returning, as he reached the bridge, thesalutes of Dalzell, executive officer, and of Ensign Phelps, officer ofthe deck.

  "It's been a dull afternoon, then?" queried Darrin, his eyes viewing thesea, whose waters rose and fell in gentle swells.

  No land was in sight from the bridge of the United States torpedo boatdestroyer, "John J. Logan," which was moving at cruising speed westerlyfrom the coast of Ireland. The course lay through the "Danger Zone"created by the presence of unknown numbers of hidden German submarines.

  For a winter day the weather had been warm. Forward the two men of thebow watch and the crews of the rapid-fire guns had removed their coatsand had left them below.

  Though there was neither enemy nor friendly craft in sight, Darrin notedwith swift if silent approval that there was no evidence of lax watch.At port and starboard, amidships, there were men on watch, as also atthe stern. Members of gun-crews lounged close to their stations, towhich additional men could be summoned in a flash. Aft, also, two menstood by the device from which it might be necessary, at any instant, todrop a depth bomb.

  Trained down to the last point of condition by constant work, theseofficers and men of the torpedo boat destroyer made one think of hard,lean hunting dogs, which, in human guise, they really were. Not only hadtoil brought this about but sleep was something of a luxury aboard the"Logan." On a cruise these men of Admiral Speare's fleet of destroyersslept with their clothes on, the same rule applying to the officers.

  Dave Darrin had slept in the chart-room for three hours this afternoon,following eighteen hours of duty on deck.

  "Any wireless messages worth reading?" was Darrin's next question.

  "None intended for us, sir, and none others of startling nature, sir,"replied Ensign Phelps, handing his superior a loose-leaf note-book. "Ithink you saw the last one, sir, and since that came in there were noneimportant enough to be filed."

  Dave read the uppermost message, nodded, then handed back the book.

  For the next ten minutes Darrin scanned through his glasses, the surfaceof the sea in all directions.

  "I'd like to bag an enemy before supper," he sighed.

  "And I'd like to see you do it," came heartily from Dan Dalzell.

  "Why don't you turn in for a nap, Dan?" asked Dave, turning to his chumand second in command, whose eyes looked heavy.

  "I believe I could," admitted Dalzell, almost reluctantly. "Mr. Phelps,will you leave word with your relief to have me called just after eightbells?"

  Down the steps Dalzell went, to the chart-room, closing the doorcurtains behind him. It is one of the unwritten rules that, at sea, thecommander of a vessel and his executive officer shall not both sleep atthe same time.

  As for Dave Darrin, he felt that he might be on deck up to midnight, atleast. After that he might snatch "forty winks," leaving orders to becalled just before dawn.

  Short of sleep always, weighted down with responsibility, young Darrinwas happy none the less. First of all, after his wide professionalpreparation in many quarters of the globe, he was at last actually inthe great world war. He was in the very place where big things werebeing done at sea, and the war had brought him promotion and independentcommand. What more could so young a naval officer ask, except sufficientcontact with the enemy to make life interesting?

  An hour passed. Dave and Phelps talked but little, and nothing out ofthe usual happened, the "Logan" keeping on her course still at cruisingspeed. But now the sun was well down on the western horizon; thenorthwesterly wind blew a little harder, though not enough to roughenthe surface of the sea noticeably.

  "Orderly, there!" called Phelps, quietly from the bridge. "Go to myquarters for my sheepskin coat and bring it here. Do you wish yours,sir?" turning to Darrin.

  "I'll step below and get it," decided Dave. "I'll probably be back herewith you shortly."

  Going stealthily into the chart-room, Dave took a glance at his chum,now sound asleep in a chair, with a blanket drawn over him. Dave reachedfor his coat, donned it and buttoned it up, then stepped outside. Firstof all he moved forward to make a brief but keen inspection of thegun-crews and their pieces; then, to starboard, after which he strolledamidships. For a few minutes he was below to receive the report of thechief engineer, then went aft to inspect the gunners and the watch,returning on the port side to the bridge.

  Soon after that the sun sank into the sea, and darkness came rapidly on.

  "It's going to be a fine night, sir," said Ensign Phelps, as Dave cameup on the bridge.

  "A fine night for something besides steaming, I hope, Mr. Phelps," Davereplied, with a smile in which there was something more than merewistfulness.

  "Amen to that!" agreed the young ensign.

  "Wind is shifting, sir," said Mr. Phelps, fifteen minutes later, whendarkness had settled down.

  "So I observed," answered the youthful commanding officer. "Fromnor'west to nor'east. That cloud over to nor'east looks as if it carrieda lot of wind."

  Dave took a quick glance at the barometer, but it had not fallen much.

  "No storm in sight yet," said Dave, thoughtfully. "But cloudy."

  "Aye," nodded Ensign Phelps. "And a black night may aid either us or anenemy."

  "More likely the enemy," replied Darrin, reflectively. "An observer on asubmarine, with the aid of the microphonic or adapted telephonic device,that is now credited with having been perfected, can hear us coming whenwe're some distance away."

  "And the same observer can discover our direction as compared with hisown position, and can even judge the extent of the distance fairlywell," remarked the ensign.

  "True," Darrin nodded. Then, suddenly, he spoke energetically, as onegripped by a new idea.

  "Mr. Phelps, have the word passed to all men on watch to keep a doublysharp lookout for approaching craft and thus avoid danger of collision.No one carries running lights in these waters. The watch will also beextremely vigilant for submarines."

  Again and again the watch, startled by shadows, of which the sea is everfull at night, called out low-spoken warnings. The officers on thebridge were kept busy investigating these alarms with their nightglasses. In fact they frequently were deceived too. Every man's nerveswere on edge; gunners swallowed hard, and with frequency moistened theirlips with their tongues. Every man up topside on the "Logan" felt thatperil was hovering near. It was not fear; it was perhaps that sixthsense that gives the alarm in moments of unseen danger. So intense wasthe nervous strain that the creaking of a brace or the sound of astraining plate, as the destroyer rolled, made every man on deck jump.

  It was a trying situation and such as brought gray hairs to many aship's master in these days of deeds and daring. Better far the rush ofa torpedo in their direction than this nerve-racking waiting forsomething that every man on the destroyer felt was coming.

  Lieutenant-Commander Darrin, sensing all this, for the very air wascharged with expectancy, frequently steadied the watch with anencouraging word or a sharp, low-spoken command. Dave sympathized withthem, for he was in very much the same nervous condition. Of course hecould not show it.

  "Curtin, we're in for some work to-night, or else I have an attack ofnerves. I feel it," said Dave without taking his eyes from observationof the sea.

  "So do I. Queer how a fellow can sense danger when he neither can hear,see, feel nor smell it," said Mr. Curtin.

  "Submarine hunting is hard on the nerves, but it's worth while,"returned Dave. "I think that must be what makes life on a destroyer soattractive to us. It is the real sporting game. I--What's that?"

  "Yes, it's----"

  "Sh-h-h!" Dave suddenly stiffened, bringing his glasses quickly
to hiseyes. "Bow watch there, did you hail?" he demanded in a low, sharpvoice.

  "Aye, aye, sir," came the prompt reply, also pitched in a low tone,though full of repressed excitement.

  Whatever wind there had been in the cloud Dave had observed to thenortheast, had passed. Only the gentlest of breezes blew, though the skyremained overcast, giving an almost ink-black night--a night for darkdeeds.

  So long did the "Logan" drift that probably every wakeful soul on boardfelt irritated by the monotony. Suddenly Dave stiffened, bringing hisglass quickly to his eyes.

  "Sounds and looks like a craft two points off starboard and about half amile away, sir," reported the bow watch.

  "Aye," Dave responded. "I see it. Mr. Curtin, pass the word for allhands to quarters."

  Silently officers and men were soon streaming over the decks, on theirway to their various stations. Curtin stood with one hand on theengine-room telegraph, awaiting the order for headway.

  The three-inch guns were loaded, and also the one-pounders and themachine guns. Two men stood by the darkened searchlight.

  "Searchlight men!" Dave called, in a low voice. "You know where we'relooking?"

  "Aye, aye, sir."

  "Stand by to put a beam squarely across its conning tower if it provesto be a submarine."

  Again Dave took a long, careful, steady look through his night glass.Secretly he was a-quiver with excitement; outwardly he was wholly calm.

  "Throw the beam!" called Dave sharply, a few seconds later. "Gun-crewsin line with the enemy, stand by!"

  A broad band of light from the searchlight played into the sky, thendescended. As the beam reached the water it revealed the tower and deckof a large submarine rolling awash a little more than half a mile away.A muffled cheer rose from some of the members of the watch. The men atthe guns were too much occupied to open their mouths.

  "Silence in the watch!" Dave commanded, sternly. "Mr. Curtin, half-speedahead. Bear straight down on the enemy! Ram him if possible! Ram him atall hazards if he is submerging when we reach him," commanded LieutenantCommander Darrin.

  "Aye, aye," answered the quartermaster at the wheel.

  Like a bloodhound the "Logan" sprang forward.

  "Bow guns fire!"

  Boom! roared one sharp-tongued three-inch gun. Bang! sounded aone-pounder. The larger shell threw up a column of spray beyond thesubmarine; the small shell struck the water on the nearer side.

  "Full speed ahead, Mr. Curtin. Hold her steady there, quartermaster!"

  "Aye, aye, sir."

  The "Logan" was soon racing at more than thirty knots an hour, her noseburrowing into the sea, throwing up great volumes of water.

  The enemy submarine had plainly been taken utterly by surprise by thefirst flash of the "Logan's" searchlight, for the warning sound that hadcome across the water had been caused by an oil-burning engine that wassupplying power for the recharging of the submarine's storage batteries.

  Such a craft, however, hated and at all times hunted, carries crewstrained to swift work. Soon after the "Logan's" second three-inch gunhad fired without registering a hit, a five-inch gun of the submarinewas brought into action. Overhead whizzed a shell that just missed the"Logan's" wireless aerials. A second shot, aimed at the destroyer'swater line, passed hardly more than four feet to starboard.

  "Get him!" roared Dave Darrin. "Gunners have their wits about 'em!"

  Dan Dalzell took the door curtains with him as he leaped out and ran forthe bridge.

  The submarine had swung around, and at the same time brought her aftergun into action. The submarine swung again bow on. There was no time todive. She was caught and must fight.

  "Torpedo coming, sir!" reported the bow watch, but Darrin had alreadycaught sight, under the searchlight's glare, of a trail of foam headingstraight for the destroyer.

  Quick as was the helmsman's obedience of orders, the "Logan" escaped thetorpedo by little more than a hair's breadth as it rushed on past. Thencame a second torpedo. The "Logan," still driving bow on, save forswerves to avoid torpedoes, escaped the second one by what appeared tobreathless watchers to be an even closer margin.

  Lieutenant Beatty had taken personal charge of sighting one of theforward guns. He now let fly a shell that tore part of the top of theenemy's conning tower away.

  "That settles him for diving!" cried Darrin, tensely. "Land a shell inthe hull and force him to take the dive he doesn't want!"

  Onward came a third rushing torpedo. As the "Logan" swerved to avoid it,a shell from the submarine's after gun struck and tore away aone-pounder aft on the destroyer, fragments stretching two men on thedeck, seriously but not fatally injured. An instant later a shell aimedat the destroyer's water line forward pierced the hull just below thegun-deck. A fair hit at the water line would have put the "Logan" in asinking condition, but, owing to the oblique position of the target, theshell, as it struck, glanced off.

  "Great work, Mr. Beatty!" shouted Dave hoarsely, as another three-inchshell struck the enemy, this time at the waterline. "Mr. Curtin, halfspeed ahead!"

  As the destroyer began to lose headway and slowly circle the underseaboat, the "Logan's" crew cheered, this time without rebuke from thebridge. The submarine craft was rapidly filling and sinking.

  At a safe distance Darrin watched, for he was humane enough to wish torescue the German survivors, should there be any. So swift was thesinking of the enemy, however, that there was no time for them to launchand man the collapsible lifeboat that they undoubtedly carried.

  Then the seas closed over the hated craft. A few moments laterLieutenant-Commander Darrin gave the order to steam forward slowly, thewatch standing by to discover and heave lines to any swimmers theremight be afloat. Not a head was seen, however. Three men at the aftergun had been observed to jump before the submarine went down, but notrace of them could now be found.

  "We'll never know how many hundreds of decent lives the work of the lastminute has saved," declared Dalzell hoarsely as he reported on thebridge.

  "Find out as promptly as possible what damage we have suffered," Daveordered. "We were struck several times."

  As Dan saluted and hurried away, Darrin picked up his night glass andonce more resumed his scanning of the sea. Lieutenant Curtin had alreadyreceived orders that the destroyer was to cruise slowly back and forthover and around the spot where the submarine had gone down.

  "It seems almost wasted sympathy to try to pick up enemy survivors,"muttered Mr. Curtin rather savagely.

  "But it's humanity just the same," Darrin returned. "And Americans mustpractise it."

  "Of course, sir."

  Dalzell, who had summoned the aid of other officers and some of thewarrant officers, soon returned.

  "Two breaches, one just above water line, and the other below it, sir,"was Dan's beginning of the report. "I wasn't aware that a torpedotouched us. If it did, it made a dent, but glanced off without theexplosion that a direct hit would have produced. That may account forthe dent below the water line. But a shell hit us above water line. Isit possible that a large fragment glanced low enough to make the dentunder water? It doesn't seem possible."

  "Not likely," smiled Darrin.

  "The hole above the water line has been repaired, but men are stillworking at the one below the line," Dalzell went on, "and the pumps areworking hard. The chief engineer was about to report it to you when Ireached him. We have been hit at other points, but no serious damage hasbeen done."

  "We are not in danger of sinking?"

  "Doesn't look like it to me, sir," Dan replied, "and the chief engineeris of the same opinion."

  "Take the bridge with Mr. Curtin."

  Not more than two minutes was Dave below decks, half of that time withthe chief engineer. Then he hurried back, disappearing into the radioroom. In a code message he notified destroyer headquarters of theencounter, its result, and the nature of the damage to the "Logan."

  Within five minutes the answer came back through the air:

  "Return to re
pair. Keep alert for enemy craft understood to be morenumerous in your waters than usual."

  The order bore the signature of Admiral Speare's flag-lieutenant.

  "Home, James," smiled Darrin, after reading the order.

  So the "Logan" was put about. Dave did not steam fast, for it had beenfound impossible wholly to stop the hole below water line. Water stillcame in, though in diminished quantity. Fast speed would be likely tospring the damaged plates.

  It was near dawn when land was sighted, and the sun was well up when the"Logan" steamed limpingly into port. Half an hour later American dockauthorities had taken charge of the destroyer. Dave waited until he sawhis beloved craft in dry dock and the water receding from under her asit was pumped out of the basin in which the "Logan" now lay.

  In the meantime Dalzell, who had had two hours' sleep on the way toport, was busy granting shore leave to such men of the crew as wereentitled to have it. More than half of the officers also received leave.

  As soon as luncheon had been finished, and after Darrin had conferredwith the dock officer, he and Dan went ashore.

  "Where shall we go?" asked Dan, when they had left the naval yard behindthem.

  "Anywhere that fancy takes us," Darrin answered, "and by dark, ofcourse, to a hotel for as good a shore dinner as war times permit."

  "We'd have a better dinner on board," laughed Dan, sometimes known inthe service as Danny Grin. "These British hotels are all feeling theeffects of the enemy's submarine campaign, and can't put up a half-waygood meal."

  Once in the streets of the port town, the two young American navalofficers strolled slowly along. The crowds had a distinctly war-timeappearance. Hundreds of British and American jackies and two or threescore French naval seamen were to be seen.

  "Whoever invented saluting doesn't have my unqualified gratitude,"grumbled Danny Grin. "My arm is aching now from returning so manysalutes."

  "It's a trifling woe," Darrin assured him. "Look more sharply, Dan. Youmissed those two French sailors who saluted you."

  Too good a service man to do a thing like that without regret, Dalzellturned around to discover that the two slighted French sailors wereglancing backward. He wheeled completely around, bringing his right handsmartly up to his cap visor and inclining his head forward. Facingforward once more he was just in time to "catch" and return the salutesof three British jackies.

  "Quite a bore, isn't it?" asked a drawling, friendly voice, as the twoyoung officers paused to look in at a shop window's display.

  The young man who had hailed them was attired in a suit and coat ofquite distinctly American cut. He was good-looking, agreeable in manner,and possessed of an air of distinction.

  "The salute is a matter of discipline, not of opinion," Dave Darrinanswered, pleasantly. "It isn't as troublesome as it looks."

  "I have sometimes wondered if you didn't find it tedious," continued thestranger.

  "Sometimes," Dave admitted, with a nod. "But it shouldn't be."

  "You are an American, aren't you?" asked Dalzell.

  "Yes. Matthews is my name. I'm over here on what appears to be thefoolish mission of trying to buy a lot of fine Irish linen, and that isa commodity which seems to have disappeared from the market."

  Somehow, it didn't seem quite easy to escape introducing themselves, soDan performed that office for the naval pair. Darrin would rather nothave met strangers in the port that was the destroyer base. Mr. Matthewswalked along with them, and presently it developed that he was stayingat the hotel where Dave and Dan had decided to dine. So, after an hour'sstroll, the three turned toward the hotel.

  "I'll see you later," declared Matthews, affably, starting for theelevator on his way to his room.

  "Dan," said Darrin, laying a kindly arm on his chum's coat-sleeve andspeaking in a low voice, "I'd just as soon you wouldn't introduce us tochance acquaintances."

  "That struck me afterwards," Dalzell admitted, soberly. "Yet, for once,I do not believe that my bad habit of friendliness with strangers hasdone any harm. Matthews appears to be all right."

  "I hope he is," Dave answered.

  Later Matthews joined them below.

  "It struck me, gentlemen," he declared, "that my introduction was ratherinformal. Permit me to offer you my card."

  He tendered to each a bit of pasteboard that neither could very welldecline. It was a business card that he had offered, and its legendstated that Matthews was connected with a well-known Chicago dry-goodshouse.

  "But in these times," smiled their new acquaintance, "an Americanpassport is a better introduction than a mere card."

  Whereupon he produced his passport. After a glance at it the two youngnaval officers did not see how they could escape offering their owncards, which Matthews gladly accepted and deposited in his owncard-case.

  He did not intrude, however, but soon moved off, after a cheery word ofparting. Dave and Dan went out for another stroll, returning in time fordinner.

  Hardly had they seated themselves when Matthews, fresh and smiling,stopped at their table in the dining room.

  "I'm afraid you'll vote me a bore," he apologized, "but American companyis such a treat in this town that I'm going to inquire whether mypresence would be distasteful. If not, may I dine with you?"

  "Be seated, by all means," Darrin responded, with as much heartiness ashe could summon.

  When the soup had been taken away and fish set before them, Matthewsasked:

  "Don't you find the patrol work a dreadful bore?"

  "It's often monotonous," Dave agreed, "but there are some excitingmoments that atone for the dulness of many of the hours."

  "And frightfully dangerous work," Matthews suggested.

  "Fighting, I believe, has never been entirely separated from danger,"retorted Dalzell, with a grin.

  "Have you sunk anything lately?"

  Both naval officers appeared to be too busy with their fish to hear thequestion.

  Matthews looked astonished for only a moment. Then he waited until theywere half through with the roast before he inquired:

  "How do you like the work of the depth bombs? Are they as useful as itwas believed they would be?"

  Dave Darrin glanced up quickly. There was no glint of hostility in hiseyes. He smiled, and his voice was agreeable as he rejoined:

  "Now, I know you will not really expect an answer to that question, Mr.Matthews. The officers and men of the service are under orders not todiscuss naval matters with those not in the service."

  "P-p-pardon me, won't you?" stammered Matthews, a flush appearing undereither temple.

  "Certainly," Dave agreed. "Men not in the service do not readilycomprehend how necessary it is for Navy men not to discuss their work,especially in war-time."

  Matthews soon changed the subject. After they had gone forth from thedining room he shook hands with them cordially, and took his leave.

  "Is he genuine?" asked Dalzell.

  "Must be," Dave replied. "His passport was in form. You know how it iswith civilians, Danny-boy. Knowing themselves to be decent and loyal,they cannot understand why service men cannot take them at their ownvaluation."

  Just as the two were going out for another stroll the double doors flewbriskly open to admit a group of more than a dozen British navalofficers.

  "Hullo, there, Darrin! I say there, Dalzell!"

  Surrounded by Britain's naval officers, our two Americans had to undergoalmost an ordeal of handshaking in the lobby.

  "But I thought you were far out on the water, Chetwynd," Dave remarkedto one of the officers.

  "And so I was, but a bad break in a shaft sent me in," grumbled thecommander of an English destroyer. "Beastly luck! And I was needed outthere," he added, in a whisper, "for the Germans are attempting a bigdrive underseas. We've new information, Darrin, that they've more thantwice the usual number of submersibles loose in these waters."

  "I've been told the same," Dave nodded, quietly.

  "What brought you in?"

  "Shell hits, I
think they were, though one dent might have been made bya torpedo," Darrin answered.

  "Then you had a fight."

  "A short one."

  "And the German pest?"

  "Went to the bottom. I know, for we saw her sink, and her conning towerwas so damaged that she couldn't have kept the water out, once she wentunder. Besides, we found the surface of the water covered with oil."

  "I'll wager you did," agreed Chetwynd, heartily. "You Yankee sailorshave sunk dozens of the pests."

  "And hope to sink scores more," Darrin assured him.

  "Oh, you'll do it," came the confident answer. "But come on upstairswith us. We've a private parlor and a piano, and plan a jolly hour ortwo."

  From one end of the room, in a lull in the singing, an exasperatedEnglish voice rose on the air.

  "What I can't understand," the speaker cried, "is that the enemy appearto have every facility for getting the latest gossip right out of thisport. And they know every time that a liner, a freighter or a warshipsails from this port. There is some spy service on shore thatcommunicates with the German submarine commanders."

  "I'd like to catch one of the rascally spies!" Dan uttered to a youngEnglish officer.

  "What would you do with him?" bantered the other.

  "Cook him!" retorted Dan, vengefully. "I don't know in just what form;probably fricassee him."

  Little did Dalzell dream how soon the answer to the spy problem wouldcome to him.