The ensign nodded. He would have preferred to go himself, but his place as watch officer was on the bridge.

As Dave went down the steps from the bridge a seaman on watch sprang to seize his arm and steady him.

"I've my sea-legs on," Darrin smiled at the sailor.

Then, holding the brim of his sou'-wester down before his face, the other hand on a life-line, Darrin cautiously made his way aft. The lines along the starboard side were secure.

At the stern stood two men, gripping the sturdy lines with both hands. Here the decks were flooded with seas coming over constantly.

Dave stood with the men for a few minutes, observing the combers that rolled against the stern, the tops breaking over the side.

"I'll have the stern watch changed every hour," he shouted at the seamen above the gale. "It's too wet to stand a full trick here. Remember, on coming off, or just before going on, to go to the galley and get your coffee."

"Thank you, sir," replied one of the men, touching the brim of his headgear.

Dave released the sternmost life-line to take a quick, oblique step toward the port lines. At that very instant a huge comber climbed aboard over the stern, the great bulk of water lifting Dave as though he were but a chip.

As he struggled for his footing he had a brief glimpse of one of the sailors battling toward him. Then a continuation of the wave carried him obliquely forward, lifting him clear of the port rail at the quarter and driving him over into the sea.

Instantly a hoarse yell rose and was repeated: "Commanding officer overboard astern, sir!"



CHAPTER VII

IN THE HOUR OF DESPAIR

DAVE did not hear the wild, hoarse alarm. A mass of water pounded in his ears. He felt himself going down as though headed for the bottom of the sea.

During what seemed an interminable interval Darrin kept his mouth tightly shut. He did not struggle to rise to the surface, for he knew that as soon as the driving force of the water over him had expended itself his belt would carry him up to air.

And so it did. As Darrin shook the spray from his eyes he made out the "Grigsby" only as a dark mass far ahead. Then a wave blotted her out. When next he looked he saw nothing. The third time he made out a still more indistinct mass, which, he judged, was turning to come back and look for him.

"Steady, boy!" he urged himself. "The outfit aboard that craft will make every possible effort to find me. Ah, I knew it!"

For now the ray of the searchlight streamed out, trying to pierce the murkiness of the night.



By the shifting of the ray, too, he saw that the "Grigsby" was putting about.

"They'll pick me up soon with that light," he told himself.

He did not permit himself to reflect that, if the startled officers and men on the destroyer located him it would be by the sheerest good luck. A human head rolling among waves on a black night is a difficult object to pick up with the searchlight.

Dave now struck out enough to keep his face turned toward the light. He did not attempt to swim toward the destroyer. That long, narrow craft circled about, bringing a second searchlight to bear.

Then Dave saw the blinkers at the foremast head gleam out dully. He even read the signal:

"Lieutenant Commander Darrin overboard. Not yet located."

"That's for Dalzell's benefit," Dave told himself. "Poor old Danny-boy will be wild, and will come steaming over here at full speed. But—confound it! The 'Grigsby' is circling farther south. Evidently Fernald thinks he came back too far on his wake."

Farther and farther south went the destroyer, still sweeping the sea with her two searchlights.

Then Dave beheld, after minutes, another searchlight beam crossing the others, and knew that Dan Dalzell, aboard the "Reed," was making anxious quest for his floating chum.

Both craft, after the "Reed" had once come within a quarter of a mile, began operating further away. There was nothing on the black, roaring waters by which to locate the spot where the "Grigsby" had been when her commander was hurled overboard.

Twenty minutes passed after the "Reed" had come up. There was more talking with the blinkers between the two craft. The destroyers moved in ever widening, and then contracting, circles, but not once did either come near enough to pick up a glimpse of that one face that held occasionally above the rolling waves.

After an hour of searching there was a sorrowful conference between the officers directing the signals on the two destroyers. They decided that every possible effort had been made, and that Lieutenant Commander Darrin was surely lost.

Indeed, at about that time Dave, though he was too far away and dashed with too much spray to read the signals, had about given up hope.

Chilled to the bone by the icy waters, he had at first striven to keep himself warm by such exercise as he could apply. But now he was weakening.

Had it not been for the unusual vigor of his constitution he would have been dead by this time. It was now only a question of a little more time when he must freeze to death.

"All right, Davy-boy," he reflected, almost drowsily. "While you were alive you managed to do a few things! But poor Belle! I hope this isn't going to upset her too much!"

Even the thought of his loved young wife did not stir him much, which showed, indeed, that Darrin was near the end of his vital resources and that he must soon give up his struggle.

After a while the instinct of desperation seized him. With a last summoning of his strength he began fighting for his life.

"I won't freeze!" he cried, between grinding teeth. "I can keep moving a good while yet. I won't allow myself to die here. That would be no better than suicide!"

For a few minutes more he continued to use arms and feet in a determined effort to warm his blood against the numbing cold.

"Ha, here comes one of the destroyers, right now," Dave laughed, hysterically, as a form loomed up in the night and came toward him.

Indeed, that dark mass, which presently resolved itself into the hull of a steamship battling with the gale, seemed bent on running him down.

Nearer and nearer it came. Dave tried to shout, but found his voice too weak to be heard above the roar of wind and wave. Though he fought desperately to get out of the course of the oncoming hull, the rolling waters washed him back.

His efforts, however, had availed him somewhat, for, though he was so close that he could almost touch the hull as the bow passed him, Darrin felt that he could avoid being run down by the ship.

He tried to shout again, but only hoarse noises came from his throat. Then something splashed close to him as it struck the water. A wave washed Darrin against a rope. With all the force left in his hands he twined his fingers around the strands.

Then, though Dave did not see it, a face peered over the rail above. There came a tug at the rope, but Dave would not let go. He found himself being dragged slowly along with the hull of this craft that was battling a head wind.

When the man above found that he could not haul up the rope he peered down at the water, then set up a yell in some strange jargon.

An instant later a second face appeared behind the first. The bright gleam of a pocket flash-lamp cut the blackness to the water. There was a second exclamation, quickly followed by a command.

A third man joined the other two at the rail. Dave blinked upward at the pocket flash-lamp. He saw something descending, heard a faint whish above the noise of the gale, and felt a noose drop down over his head and shoulders.

Just how he did it Darrin cannot remember, even now, but he managed to slip that noose first under one arm pit, then the other, all the time keeping a desperate hold of the trailing rope.

A pull from above, then a dull throb of hope sent the blood through Darrin's frame as he felt the noose gather tightly under his arms. Slowly, his body bumping against the rolling hull, he felt himself moving upward.

Ready hands seized and hauled him in over the rail. At that instant Dave's senses forsook him. He collapsed on the deck, a limp, huddled, drenched human form.

Nor could he judge how much later it was when he opened his eyes again. But cold? Not a bit of it! He felt as though he were in a furnace room. Stripped, he lay in a berth, two stalwart sailors rubbing him under the direction of a third person, while a fourth was slowly forcing a hot drink down his throat. It was a strangling cough, on account of some of the fluid entering his wind-pipe, that had brought him back to consciousness.

Opening his eyes, Dave lay quietly, enjoying the warmth after his bitter experience. He noticed that the sailors who were rubbing him were dripping with perspiration. Indeed, they had a right to drip, for the steam in this little cabin had been turned on through two separate services.

Dave tried to speak, but all he could say was:

"Ugh!"

"Good! You don't feel chilled, now?" questioned the man who held the hot drink to his lips.

"Gracious, no!" Darrin whispered, hoarsely. "I'm roasting."

The man spoke to the sailors, who stopped their rubbing and spread a few thicknesses of blanket over him.

Dave's next realization was that this unknown craft did not roll so heavily as might be expected. He reasoned that the ship must be a freighter of broad beam.

Languor was stealing over him as the questioner asked:

"How do you feel?"

"Like having a big sleep," Dave whispered drowsily. His eyes closed and he dozed even before he could think to wonder if his brother officers on the "Grigsby" and "Reed" knew that he was all right.

Putting down the cup of hot drink, the man who had done the talking dismissed the three others, seated himself on the edge of the berth and placed a finger on one of Dave's unresisting wrists.

The same man was there, seated on a locker and smoking a pipe, when Dave Darrin again opened his eyes.

This time Dave sat up rather nimbly, then turned, supporting his head on one hand.

"Hullo, there!" Dave hailed, cheerily.

"Getting your strength back, aren't you?" queried the stranger.

"Yes, sir! But tell me. Is this the same night I was picked up and introduced on board, so to speak?"

"The same night."

"About how many hours ago?"

"Five, I guess."

"Then it must be near daylight."

"Yes."

"Any American destroyers sighted hereabouts, do you know?"

"Not at last accounts. We have been keeping a lookout, too, for your uniform proclaimed you to be a Yankee naval officer."

"What ship is this?"

"The 'Rigsdak.'"

"Norwegian?" Dave inquired.

"Danish freighter, homebound from Hartlepool."

"And you're the ship's doctor?"

"Yes. Unless we meet one of your own country's ships you'll be ashore in Denmark before noon today. But the sea is so rough that I do not believe we could transfer you, even if we met one of your own craft."

"Denmark isn't such a bad country," Dave laughed, pleasantly. "I've been there. And you're mighty quick people. It didn't take you long to rope and haul me on board."

"Because our second officer had a man in his watch who used to be a cowboy in your country, and he can handle a lariat well. Travelling through these dangerous waters we always carry a line forward with a noose at one end. You're the third man we've roped out of the water in six months."

"But what was that first line that was thrown overboard—I mean the one I grabbed and held on to?"

"There was a bucket at the end of that rope," the ship's surgeon informed Dave. "The deck-hose is out of order, and a sailor threw the bucket over to haul up water with which to wash down the passageway."

"I'm thankful he made the cast just at that instant," Dave murmured.

"Providence must have directed the cast," replied the doctor. "And it wasn't your time to die."

"I've no right to die, if I can possibly prevent it!" Dave rejoined warmly. "I'm only a small-fry officer, to be sure, but even at that I'm needed, like every other trained American officer, until Germany has been taught the great lesson of law and morality."

"Amen to that!" agreed the doctor, fervently.

"You're not pro-German, then, like so many of your countrymen?" Dave asked, with a smile.

"There are few of us who are pro-German in Denmark," replied the ship's surgeon. "Though, until your Entente allies can protect us against powerful Germany's wrath it is not prudent for us to be too outspoken in favor of England, France and America."

"From your accent you've been in our country?" Dave hinted.

"I took my degree in an American medical school, but I am a Dane. And now, sir, your name?"

"David Darrin, lieutenant-commander, United States Navy."

"And I am Dr. Valpak. And now, Mr. Darrin, I advise that you rest your mind, eat what I am going to order sent here, and then take another nap."

Dave gladly ate of the sea biscuit and soup that were brought to him, after which Dr. Valpak felt his pulse, administered a drink of something with an unfamiliar taste, then uttered the professional command:

"Sleep!"

Dr. Valpak closed the door from outside. Dave closed his eyes, and enjoyed the luxury of another nap.



CHAPTER VIII

DAVE MEETS THE FATE OF THE SEA

IT was almost nine o'clock in the morning when Darrin awoke. He at once realized how refreshed he was. His had been a close call, but fortunate accident and his own strong body had pulled him through.

There on the floor were his rubber boots, on the locker his underclothing, while on knobs against the cabin wall hung the garments that comprised his uniform.

Rising, Dave was delighted to find himself still strong. Without ado he drew off and tossed across the berth the coarse nightgown that some one had put on him. Then he began to dress.

Everything was dry—indeed, laundered. These new Danes of the sea knew how to be hospitable. So Darrin dressed, and, when he rang for hot water, a steward appeared with the ship's barber, who aided in Darrin's toilet. Before this had been finished Dr. Valpak thrust his head in to inquire:

"Do I intrude?"

"Only as a personage from the pages of 'Arabian Nights,' Doctor," Darrin laughed. "Come in."

Not only did the doctor come in, but soon, also, a waiter, who set up a small table made fast to the wall, and on it spread such a breakfast as made Dave's heart rejoice.

Wind and sea had abated much. The broad "Rigsdak" now rode the water with comparatively little roll. Dave sat down to enjoy his breakfast, and Dr. Valpak soon withdrew.

Just after the finish of the meal the surgeon returned, bringing with him this time the ship's master, one Kennor, who spoke with a strong accent. Dave expressed his thanks for the fine care that had been given him.

"And you muss der mate meet," declared Captain Kennor, beaming. "He it vass who show der light in your face, und den der noose was over you drop."

So presently Dave followed these new friends to the deck, where he was introduced to the mate. He also, through Dr. Valpak, thanked the sailor who had cast the bucket-line overboard. The seaman who had dropped the noose around him spoke English fluently. Dave shook hands with both sailors. He then followed Captain Kennor and the mate to the bridge.

"You carry only freight?" Dave asked.

"Somedimes passengers," replied Captain Kennor. "Two we have dis time. An English lawyer und hiss young vife."

The pair just mentioned were seen walking on the spar deck forward. The man was well past middle age, of fine, rather sharp features and with thick gray hair. The woman did not appear to be above the age of twenty-five.

Captain Kennor escorted Dave down and introduced him to Mr. and Mrs. Caleb Launce.

"One doesn't often hear a story like that of your rescue," said Mr. Launce.

"It would have killed you, had you been an ordinary man," shivered Mrs. Launce.

"Thank you for the inference," Darrin laughed.

"But I have met several of your American naval officers," Mrs. Launce continued. "You are splendidly big, enduring men."

"Again I must thank you."

"A man accustomed to indoor life could not have lived half as long as you did before you were picked up," added the lawyer.

"Do you feel your full strength yet?" asked his wife.

"Not—quite, I'll admit," Dave answered.

"Then it will be well if you find a seat, inside, too, I should think," continued the Englishwoman. "Shall we all go inside? The air is cold out here."

Truth to tell, though he was not by any means in a fainting condition, Dave Darrin did feel that a seat inside, where it was warm, would be much to his liking.

So Captain Kennor led them to a small dining cabin, where the white cloths had been removed from the tables and homely red ones substituted.

"Dr. Valpak told me you expected to make port by noon," said Dave.

"Dot vass der hope, but last night's vinds held us back more dan ve knew," replied Captain Kennor. "Id vill be two dis afternoon before ve make—"

He was interrupted by a shattering jar that made the ship stagger. It was accompanied by a crashing explosion.

Uttering a cry of fright Mrs. Launce sprang to her feet.

"Can that be—" she began.

"Yes, madam, a torpedo," Dave replied, rising more slowly. "It was evidently a hard hit, but this twenty-eight-hundred-ton ship should remain afloat at least half an hour, unless another torpedo be launched. There is plenty of time. Will you permit me?"

There were life-belts at hand. Dave quickly and deftly fastened Mrs. Launce's life-belt about her, then performed a similar office for her husband. This done he went to his recent cabin, where he donned his own belt and stepped out on the deck, joining his fellow passengers.

Struck on the port side, just forward of her boilers, the "Rigsdak" was already listing considerably to that side.

"The captain and the first officer are below," hailed Dr. Valpak. "They will examine the ship's injuries and decide. It may not be necessary to abandon ship."

Mrs. Launce turned to Darrin, who had just turned back from the port rail. She looked at him so imperatively that he nodded and replied:

"We shall have to take to the boats. This ship is not going to float. Her pumps will not save her, for the hole in the side is beyond temporary repairs."

Within two or three minutes Captain Kennor and his mate appeared, confirming Dave's verdict.

Darrin had already looked out over the sea, but he had been unable to make out any sign of the presence of a submarine.

"Could it have been a mine?" demanded Mr. Launce.

"No, sir," Dave answered, promptly. "Had we struck a mine the explosion would have been much more violent."

"Then a torpedo provides sufficient experience of this sort of thing," cried Mrs. Launce, making a face.

"Der passengers vill my boat go in!" called Captain Kennor. "Dere vill time be."

Again Mrs. Launce glanced inquiringly at Darrin, who nodded his confirmation.

Three boats were cleared away, carrying most of the crew and all the officers except the master. The boats were safely launched, and fortunately the sea was not too rough for them.

Then Captain Kennor appeared, carrying a bag and his navigating instruments.

"Are your ship's papers and instruments intended for the Germans, sir?" Dave inquired, significantly.

"No; you be right," admitted Captain Kennor, opening his eyes wide, after a brief moment's thought.

Going to the rail he tossed bag and instruments over into the sea.

Then the last boat was lowered, the seamen who remained behind jumping as soon as their work was completed, and being picked up from the water.

"Ve shall but a few hours of rowing haff," declared Captain Kennor. "It vill not so hard be upon uss."

Dave was thinking of another prospect, but did not voice his thought. The men in the captain's boat gave way at the oars, Kennor steering. The other boats had already pulled well clear of the coming foundering, and now the captain's boat followed. The "Rigsdak" was likely to remain afloat for some minutes yet.

"I thought so," muttered Darrin, pointing to where a gray conning tower was emerging from the sea.

Captain Kennor gave an order in his native tongue, and the men in his boat ceased rowing.

"Dey vill uss hail, so ve need not be too far avay," he explained to his passengers.

After the conning tower the gray back of the sea pest rose into view. The manhole of the tower was opened and an officer appeared, followed to the deck by a few seamen, two of whom stationed themselves by a gun that popped up into view.

"Come alongside!" shouted the officer, in English, through a megaphone.

Again Captain Kennor's oarsmen gave way, their skipper heading for the submarine.

"That will do. Cease rowing," commanded the German officer. "What ship is that yonder?"

"Der Danish freighter, 'Rigsdak,'" replied Captain Kennor.

"And its master?"

"Dat iss me."

"Come aboard."

At the order Dave, who had quietly loosened his belt and holster containing his automatic revolver, quickly dropped them overboard on the side farthest from the German craft.

There was sufficient sea running to make the task of getting close alongside a difficult one. A German sailor reached out to catch Kennor's arm and aid him aboard the submarine.

"And your instruments and papers," ordered the German officer, sharply.

"I did not dem with me bring," replied Kennor.

"Perhaps that will be so much the worse for you," was the scowling reply. "We want the papers, and we have need, especially, of ship's instruments."

The German eyed Dave Darrin curiously. The American officer's uniform was concealed under his sou'-wester, rubber coat and boots, but after a moment's inspection, the German said curtly:

"You, too, will come aboard."

As refusal would have been absurd under the circumstances Darrin promptly obeyed. Instantly the German officer snatched a fold of Darrin's rubber coat, pulling it aside and thus revealing a glimpse of the uniform beneath.

"Take off that rubber coat!" the Hun ordered, brusquely.

Flushing slightly, Dave obeyed, his uniform now being fully revealed.

"Ha!" snarled the Hun. "I suspected something of the sort. You two will go down through the manhole. And this man and woman are passengers? They will come aboard."

Captain Kennor led the way below, Mr. and Mrs. Launce following. Dave, as he reached the manhole, turned to see the "Rigsdak" vanish beneath the waters.

Then Dave Darrin stepped inside the conning tower and began to descend the ladder—a German prisoner at last!



CHAPTER IX

THREATS TO A PRISONER

AS for the seamen in the boat, the officer, after a scowling stare in their direction, ordered them also on board, where he had them lined up forward.

"Take off those life-belts," he ordered, still in English, and a seaman who understood interpreted to his fellow-Danes.

Off came the life-belts, which were dropped to the deck. German sailors then kicked them all overboard.

Now the submarine began to move slowly. A shot was fired from the forward gun into the lifeboat, wrecking and sinking her. This done, the German seamen followed their officer in through the manhole, which was closed.

For at least two miles the submarine moved along on the surface, then, slowly, began to submerge. One of the Danish sailors on deck set up a howl of fright when he found his shoes six inches under water. The cry was taken up by the other sailors with him.

The water rose to their knees—higher. The conning tower settled down into the sea, and the wretched sailors of the captain's boat were left floundering in the water, without life-belts or anything buoyant to keep them afloat.

The last vestige of the submarine vanished, leaving more than a dozen despairing men to flounder and to die, for the "Rigsdak's" other boats were now too far distant to see what had happened.

Going below, Dave and his friends from the "Rigsdak" were conducted into a tiny wardroom behind the mess table at which sat a frowning, leering German ober-lieutenant.

"A ship's master who did not like us well enough to bring his papers and his instruments," barked this commanding officer of the sea-hornet. "An Englishman and his young wife, eh? But we have here—?"

"An American naval officer," replied the younger German officer.

For some reason the ober-lieutenant's manner changed. He looked Dave over curiously, but without the same ferocity.

"Be good enough to be seated," he said, with a wave of the hand toward a chair. "Let these swine stand!"

But Dave chose to remain on his feet. Again the ober-lieutenant turned to him, though with comparative courtesy.

"I offered you a seat, sir. I trust you will avail yourself of the invitation."

"I cannot seat myself, sir," Darrin answered, stiffly, "while a lady is forced to stand."

"Then the woman will have a seat too," replied the ober-lieutenant, with a contemptuous glance in Mrs. Launce's direction. But that young Englishwoman met his look of contempt with a glance that beat the German at his own game, and remained on her feet.

"Oh, very well," said the German commander, carelessly. "Now, I will enter in my log the name and other particulars concerning the master of the 'Rigsdak.'"

Captain Kennor accordingly supplied the particulars, which were written down.

"The English cattle next!" ordered the ober-lieutenant, gruffly.

Mr. Launce therefore stated the names, ages and residence of himself and wife.

"Your reason for travelling?" rasped the German commander, looking up from his record.

"Health," replied the Englishman, stiffly.

"Whose?"—sneeringly.

"Mine."

"You do not look ill."

"That cannot be helped," replied Mr. Launce, as stiffly as ever.

"You must have passports, since you are travelling," suggested the ober-lieutenant.

"Yes; we have," admitted Mr. Launce.

"Turn them over to me."

Receiving the documents in question, the German commander looked them over carefully. Without comment, he handed them to a younger officer, who left the room with them, but soon returned.

"Take these people away," ordered the ober-lieutenant. "And see that you obey all orders without question," he added, to Kennor and the English couple.

When they had been left alone the ober-lieutenant rose to his feet, holding out his hand to Darrin though a bit stiffly.

"We are brothers in arms, it seems, though just now we are enemies," said the German.

"We are enemies, yes," Dave admitted, ignoring the outstretched hand. At this the German flushed, allowing his proffered hand to fall.

"You shall have all permissible courtesy while you are my prisoner, and I trust you will show the same," said the ober-lieutenant.

"I bespeak no courtesy, sir," Dave replied coolly, though without direct affront. "I quite understand that I am a prisoner of war, and, as I cannot help the fact, I will not resent it. You are going to confine me, I take it?"

"No," said the ober-lieutenant, again seating himself and picking up his pen. "You will be given quarters, and allowed some freedom as long as you do not forfeit it. You may even eat at table with us."

"Thank you," said Darrin, bowing stiffly.

"I have not yet entered your name. Be good enough to supply me with it."

"David Darrin."

"Rank?"

"Lieutenant commander."

"Yankee Navy?"

"United States Navy, sir."

"Present detail?"

"Commanding officer of a torpedo boat destroyer."

"Her name?" demanded the ober-lieutenant, writing.

"I decline to state."

"Name of the destroyer?" insisted the German.

"You heard my answer to that," Darrin returned, his lips tightening. "I refuse to reveal the name of the destroyer."

"Her present station?"

"I decline to answer."

"Your reason for being away from your craft and being aboard the 'Rigsdak'?" queried the German, glancing up.

"I was washed overboard in a gale, and rescued by the crew of the 'Rigsdak'," Dave answered, truthfully, without going into details.

"Were you washed overboard from the craft of which you are commanding officer?" pressed the German.

"Again I must decline to answer."

"Oh, very good," said the ober-lieutenant, carelessly. "I shall find that out presently."

Then, as he scanned the information he had written down, the German asked:

"Darrin? Darrin? Where have I heard that name before?"

Picking up another book from the table, the ober-lieutenant turned rapidly through some indexed pages. Suddenly a gleam came into his eyes.

"Ah, here I have it. Darrin, David. Responsible for the capture and recognition of Ober-Lieutenant von Bechtold. Witness against von Bechtold, who was executed in England as a spy. Ha! So you are the Darrin, eh?"

"I may be," half-assented Dave, feeling the other's burning gaze.

"Then I am glad to have you here, Lieutenant-Commander Darrin!" cried the German officer, "but I am afraid things will go badly indeed with you when you arrive in Germany!"



CHAPTER X

LIKE THE FRENCH AND ENGLISH

"INDEED?" asked Dave, raising his eyebrows slightly.

"You cannot expect that the people of the Fatherland will feel any great kindness toward you," pursued the ober-lieutenant.

"Why should they dislike me?"

"Because you brought about the death of von Bechtold, and he was an officer most valuable to our government."

"If you caught an American spy in Germany would you arrest him?"

"Assuredly," admitted the German officer.

"And do your best to prove your charge against him and have him executed."

"Again, assuredly."

"That was what I did, in the case of von Bechtold."

"Bah, you are like the French and English!" snapped the ober-lieutenant. "You can never get it through your heads that a German is more important than one of your kinds of people."

"No," Dave agreed, "I am afraid that we cannot appreciate that fact, or even admit it to be a fact."

"And now, before you leave me," broke in the German officer, quickly, "tell me the name of your destroyer and the station on which you last served."

Dave smiled, but did not answer in words. The ober-lieutenant regarded him frowningly.

"Oh, very good," said the German, at last. "There are those in Germany who know how and possess the means to make you talk. Your record shall be completed there. And now—!"

Going to the wardroom door the ober-lieutenant called:

"Lieutenant von Schellen!"

The same younger officer came to the door.

"Be good enough to show Lieutenant Commander Darrin to his quarters and extend to him any courtesies that you properly may. It is not fitting that a man of his rank should have to receive orders from a seaman."

"This way," directed von Schellen, briefly. He led the way down the narrow passage to a curtained doorway.

"In here you will find your home until we reach Germany," said von Schellen. "If you wish exercise you may leave your sleeping cabin and walk back and forth in this passage-way. If the ober-lieutenant should decide to be gracious enough to invite you to the wardroom, then you will also have the freedom of that room—at meal hours only. You will not go to any other part of this craft."

With a curt nod the young lieutenant left Dave. Perhaps von Schellen had done his best to be courteous.

Pulling back the curtain Dave looked in. It was a stuffy little place, just long enough to hold two berths, one above the other, against the outer shell of the submarine. In the upper berth Captain Kennor lay at full length, a hand over his eyes.

"We are cabin-mates, then?" Dave asked, gently.

"Yes, so I been told," the Dane answered gloomily.

"And you in the upper berth? Why did you not take the lower one? It is more comfortable."

"I vould no so presume!" protested the Dane. "Not wid a man of your rank."

"I haven't rank enough in our naval service to feel conceited about it," Darry smiled, "and you are considerably older than I. Any difference there may be in comfort is your due. Will you kindly exchange?"

Not without some difficulty did Dave succeed in inducing Captain Kennor to change to the lower, broader berth of the two. Dave, after removing his boots and some of his clothing, climbed to the upper berth, spreading a blanket over himself and lying down, for he felt that rest was absolutely needed.

At the noon-meal hour the ober-lieutenant sent an orderly to invite Darrin to the table, though the same invitation was not to be extended to Captain Kennor, who would be expected to eat with the German petty officers. But, as Dave and Captain Kennor were asleep at the time, the orderly departed without waking them.

It was past the middle of the afternoon when Dave Darrin at last awoke sufficiently to decide upon rising. Getting to the floor, and noting that Captain Kennor was still asleep, Dave dressed almost by stealth.

While he was still so engaged there came a slight knock at the door. A German petty officer looked in.

"The ober-lieutenant sends his compliments," announced the fellow, in English. "He will be pleased to have you join him. I will lead the way."

Dave followed, down the passage and out into the main cabin. There, at a table under the conning tower, sat the ober-lieutenant and the same younger officer.

"We will raise the periscope and show you what we are about to do," said the ober-lieutenant, with a half-malicious smile.

Von Schellen, his hand on the wheel of the periscope mechanism, awaited a nod from his chief. Receiving it, the younger officer turned the wheel, sending the periscope up a foot above water.

On the white surface of the shaded table beneath Dave saw the image of a vessel.

"The fellow yonder has not yet sighted us," said the ober-lieutenant, grimly. "We are about to send him a torpedo. Yonder craft is to be our game—Yankee steel and Yankee meat!"

As for Dave, as he stared in horror at the image on the table he recognized in the ship mirrored there Dan Dalzell's own command, the "Reed."

Forcing himself to speak calmly, and to act a part Dave begged:

"One moment longer, please! Let me see whether I can recognize the doomed craft."

"Doomed, indeed," chuckled the ober-lieutenant. "We are in position and I am about to fire. Be ready to drop the 'scope, von Schellen!"

But Dave Darrin, knocking von Schellen's hand away, seized the lever, forcing the periscope to rise to its full height above the conning tower. Nor did he stop there. With the mightiest twist and wrench of which he was capable he jammed the lever so that it could not be promptly operated to lower the periscope.

"Stop!" thundered von Schellen, leaping to his feet, his face purple with rage.

"I've stopped," assented Darry, smilingly, as he stepped back.

"Do you realize what you have done, scoundrelly Yankee?" hissed the ober-lieutenant, also rising and drawing his revolver.

"Of course I do," Dave smilingly assented.

"You have jammed the periscope. But at least we can dive when we need, for—there!"

With deft manipulation of a small device the German commander added:

"I have closed the valves of the 'scope, which will now admit no water if we dive. You did not succeed, Herr Darrin. But you will draw upon us the Yankee fire if yonder commander is now able to sight our scope."

As if to verify the statement a muffled sound came to them through the water. Glancing down swiftly at the table von Schellen saw that reflected which caused him to exclaim:

"The Yankee destroyer has opened upon us with her forward port gun. And there goes the starboard gun!"

Von Schellen, at a nod from his chief, signalled the orders for diving. The ober-lieutenant saw the "Reed," as pictured on the white table, come steaming toward the submarine at full speed.

"You idiot!" raged the German commander. "Your treachery has betrayed us, and now the Yankee will do his best to sink us and drown all on board here."

"That's what I'm praying right now he'll do!" cried Dave Darrin, his face radiant with the glory of the thought.



CHAPTER XI

A VICTIM OF COURTESY

"AND what about the woman we have on board?" demanded the ober-lieutenant, hurriedly. "Would you destroy her, too—cause her, if you could, to die the death of drowning helplessly?"

"I—I had forgotten her," Dave confessed.

But from the passageway came a prompt response.

"Never mind me," called Mrs. Launce. "I have heard, and I, also, pray to see this pirate craft destroyed before it can accomplish any more wickedness and destruction. My own death does not matter!"

"Silence, woman!" cried the ober-lieutenant, glaring at Mrs. Launce.

"Mrs. Launce has spoken, and has no more to say," broke in the unruffled voice of Caleb Launce.

"Is that the way you address women when they are helpless?" Dave demanded, tauntingly.

"When they take part in conversations without being asked," the German answered, curtly.

"I have heard it was a way with the naval men of your country," Dave drove back, tauntingly.

Von Schellen reported:

"We are now sixty feet below the surface, and headed west by southwest. Any further orders?"

"None," replied the commander. "Keep to the course until I direct it to be changed."

With a stiff salute von Schellen turned and vanished.

"Your Yankee friend shall not catch us this time," jeered the ober-lieutenant. "Listen! Can you hear his propellers? We are going directly away from him."

"He will catch you, in the end," Darrin retorted, "or some other comrade will. I know how many of your craft our Navy has put out of commission, and I know how many our Allies have destroyed."

"But you do not know how many submarines we have left, nor how fast we are building them," mocked the German commander.

"Do not be too sure of that," Dave retorted. "It may be that our information is more exact than you suspect."

"Have you anything definite to say on that subject?" demanded the ober-lieutenant, regarding his prisoner attentively.

"Naturally not."

"Then, as I shall be busy, will you be good enough to return to the bounds set for you?"

Dave bowed, turned and re-entered the passage-way. The German naval officer's manner toward him had not been insulting. There was an evident effort to treat Darrin with the outward show of respect that should be accorded to a prisoner of his rank. Yet Dave knew that his enemy hated him.

Mr. and Mrs. Launce were in the passage-way, and Captain Kennor could be heard stirring in his cabin.

"Mr. Darrin, we are now at good depth under water?" inquired Mr. Launce.

"Yes, sir; I believe so. We are not to be caught and destroyed just yet."

"That I am sorry to hear," replied the lawyer, gravely.

"And, I, too, am sorry," spoke up Mrs. Launce. "Life has been sweet to me, but I would much rather be dead than a captive in Germany. I condole with you, Mr. Darrin, that it was not possible for you to bring about the destruction of this wretched craft."

"It will, before long, go the way of the other German submarines," Dave assured her, hoping that there were enemy eavesdroppers who would overhear and understand.

At best exercise in this narrow short passage was a farce, though it was often more agreeable to be out here than sitting in the cramped space of one of the tiny sleeping cabins. The four prisoners rested, or moved listlessly about, until the evening meal was ready. Then Captain Kennor was summoned to eat with the petty officers, while Dave and his English companions received word to join the craft's officers in the tiny wardroom.

Mr. Launce glanced at Dave with a questioning look.

"Really, Mr. Darrin, I would as soon starve as eat with those German officer fellows, and my wife feels as I do about it."

"And my idea is the same," Dave answered.

So Mr. Launce turned to the German mess servant, delivering in German a message to the effect that the three prisoners did not care to join the officers at mess.

Thereupon von Schellen came out.

"What is the matter?" he asked.

"We don't care to eat with you, sir," Mr. Launce replied, bluntly.

"Oh, very well," replied the junior officer, carelessly. "You three, then, may eat at second table after we are pleased to be through."

Clicking his heels and wheeling, the junior officer went back to the wardroom. The three prisoners waited more than an hour before the same mess attendant came and beckoned them to enter.

They were alone, now, save for the presence of the ober-lieutenant, who was seated at one end of the table writing. He did not look up as they entered and seated themselves.

The meal set out was a coarse one, in quality of food, but there was plenty of it. The three prisoners ate slowly, almost in silence, nor did they address their host.

Before the meal was over the German commander left the room without word or sign to his guests.

"Why, the boat has stopped!" exclaimed Mrs. Launce, in a low voice, some three minutes later. "Are we resting on the bottom?"

"I think I shall soon be able to answer you," Darrin replied.

Soon machinery began to rumble.

"We are on the surface," said Dave, laying down knife and fork. "We are recharging batteries."

Mrs. Launce leaned forward to whisper:

"Then surely there is some chance that one of our own craft will hear the racket. We may be fired upon and sunk, do you not think?"

"You are eager for death?" Dave asked, studying her face.

"Yes. I prefer death to being taken to Germany."

"And I, too," Dave nodded.

"Have they anything against you there?" Mrs. Launce whispered, after glancing about her.

"Only, I believe, that I brought about the capture and execution of one of their most valuable spies."

"That would be enough," whispered Mr. Launce. "For that the Germans would not openly try and execute you, but they will find other ways to bring about your death."

Instantly it occurred to Darrin that, evidently, some one in official Germany knew of something to bring against Mrs. Launce, for her question to Darrin had indicated as much.

As they sat there at the table the young American officer noted that the submarine rolled hardly at all. It was plain that the recent gale had subsided, for the slight rocking of the boat indicated only a gentle swell on the surface of the sea.

In the doorway appeared Lieutenant von Schellen. In his right hand, steadied by his left, was what looked like an album. Glancing up from a page the junior officer remarked, with quick speech and decided emphasis:

"You are the Countess of Denby."

By a great effort the Englishwoman turned slowly, glancing at the German.

"Ah!" she exclaimed. "You have another woman prisoner? You are bringing her here. I am sorry that she is in your hands."

"You are the Countess of Denby!" von Schellen charged again, once more levelling his accusing finger at her. "And you, sir," shifting the direction of his finger to point at the supposed Mr. Launce, "are the Earl of Denby!"

"I have risen in the world since I went to sea!" jested the Englishman.

"We know who you are, now," von Schellen continued, with brutal bluntness, "and we know as much more about you as we need. We know of the Admiralty office that you visited, and we know the information that you two were expected to gather along the Kiel Canal when you should have entered Germany! Oh, you will soon understand that we have most excellent information from England! You journeyed to Denmark on a poor old tramp steamer, under assumed names and with fraudulent passports furnished by your government. From Denmark you were to work your way to Holland, and thence into Germany, which country you would enter with still other passports furnished you in Holland. We know all about the noble pair of Denby! Of course you will deny this, but save your denials for use before a German court!"

Having said which von Schellen turned and left them. The Englishman and woman gave each other a swift, horrified glance, then lowered their eyes. As they looked up again Dave sent them a swift glance of sympathy, but there was a look of defiant pride on the Englishwoman's face.

The same thought was in the minds of all three. Von Schellen or some other German had been eavesdropping near enough to hear the whispered conversation that had taken place.

That was a fair ruse for use in war-time. Darrin, as he looked at the English pair, felt sure that they really were the Earl and Countess of Denby.

From the cabin under the conning tower came a chorus of hoarse laughter. The Englishwoman's swift look said plainly:

"They are laughing over the discovery that they have made."

After that, gloom fell upon the trio. Darrin had never heard, before, of the Earl of Denby. Later he learned that the Earl had led a recluse's life among books until the war began. About that time he had married a young noblewoman, and the pair had gone promptly into effective war work, though not in ways that caused their portraits to be published in the illustrated weeklies.

Von Schellen re-appeared five minutes later, casting first a look of triumph at the English couple, next turning to Dave.

"The American officer may take the air briefly on deck if he so desires," said the German. "It is by gracious permission of the commanding officer."

Darrin's first impulse was to decline, unless his companions were included. He changed his mind, however, for he had an intense desire to find out, if possible, in what waters the craft now was. So he rose, bowing to his table companions, and followed von Schellen to the conning tower ladder. Here he passed Herr Ober-Lieutenant and bowed stiffly.

"I am trusting you on deck," said the latter, with a frown. "It is a courtesy. Do not abuse it by any untoward conduct."

Then Dave followed his conductor up into the tower, von Schellen all the while keeping sharp lookout to see that Darrin did not attempt to do any damage to the levers on the indicator board.

Von Schellen, preceding him to the deck, turned to say, as Darrin reached the platform:

"Observe. Your desperate trick did not harm us for long. You will note that the periscope is again lowered. In fact, a new one has been put in its place. We have tested the new periscope and its bearings, and have found that they work perfectly. Your treachery, with which you repaid the commanding officer's courtesy, did not avail you much."

Darrin did not reply. Instead, he turned to survey the night on all sides. Overhead were heavy clouds, obscuring the light of the moon, which, in its present phase, would have furnished considerable light over the waters. There was a fine mist in the air, but the sixth sense of the sailor warned Dave not to expect rain tonight.

Despite the cloudiness, however, one could see for a considerable distance over the slightly rolling sea. There was no other craft in sight.

"You do not see much hope," mocked von Schellen. "We have chosen a quiet part of the sea, as you will notice."

"You usually try to do that, don't you?" Dave asked, in a tone of ordinary curiosity.

"You must know," laughed the junior officer. "You have spent months pursuing our submarines."

"And have had some success in catching them," Dave answered.

Von Schellen's laugh was bitter as he rejoined:

"Ah! You are a good boaster! But do not go too far, Herr Darrin! Do not make me wish to strike you!"

"I wouldn't care how soon you struck me," Darrin smiled, "provided I could be assured of a fair field and no favor in defending myself. But I think we are going too far in our talk, are we not, when one considers the consideration that a captor must show to a prisoner of war. As a gentleman you cannot strike me; nor, as a gentleman, can I seek to provoke you to do so. The situation is one calling for tact, Herr Lieutenant."

"And I cannot forget that you are taking occasion to remind me of the fact," retorted von Schellen, a dark look coming into his face.

"Then may I, as the prisoner of war, ask that the subject be changed?" Dave Darrin suggested.

"By all means," von Schellen returned, quickly, though he was able to perceive that the American had again succeeded in putting him in the wrong.

Just a moment later a petty officer appeared on deck. Taking two or three steps toward the junior officer he halted, saluted, and then remained standing at attention, as though waiting.

Von Schellen stepped over to the man, and a conversation followed in low tones, but did not last long.

"If you care to remain on deck and watch," said the junior lieutenant, "you will see something that may interest you."



CHAPTER XII

GERMAN BRUTALITY AT ITS WORST

JUST behind the conning tower a jointed steel mast was raised and stepped by three seamen who came at the petty officer's order.

Farther astern a narrow, ledge-like trapdoor of steel was raised, and from this was taken and stepped another steel jointed mast. The seamen now worked quickly in rigging aerial wires in place. In a very short time the work was completed, and the petty officer saluted von Schellen.

"You cannot fail to understand what we are doing," hinted the young German officer.

"You are about to send or receive radio messages, I take it," Dave replied.

"You have been told, of course, that we always report our whereabouts after dark?"

"Yes, it is common knowledge with the Allies," Dave admitted. "And also that you receive instructions from the home offices of your Admiralty."

There was a crackling sound on the aerials, followed by others, some short, some long.

"A wonderful invention, is it not?" asked von Schellen, with satisfaction.

"Yes, and first developed outside of Germany," Dave bantered, good-humoredly.

"True enough, but we have known how to take the radio and adapt it to all our needs," retorted von Schellen.

"Your operator is now reporting your whereabouts, of course."

"That would seem likely, wouldn't it?" the other demanded.

"And then you will receive information."

"Yes; and sometimes we have even messages for our men from their homes," laughed von Schellen. "More! I have even had tender messages from my sweetheart! And have answered them in kind!"

For a moment Dave stared in astonishment. He knew von Schellen for a truly heartless brute. The idea that any woman could love this fellow came almost as a shock. And that Schellen could have any tender feelings! Wonders would never cease.

"Of what are you thinking, if I may ask?" the German went on.

"After information coming to you," Darrin hinted, "it almost goes without saying that you receive your orders."

"Surely we receive them," nodded the German, "if we happen to need any. But in our line of professional work, after we have received information we do not often need orders. We know how to use our information."

"Of course," Dave went on, "any other radio operator who is within hearing distance can pick up your messages, so you do not send them in open German but use a code, or rather, a series of codes."

"If your radio men have ever picked up any of our messages," retorted the young German, "you must know that you were not able to decipher their meaning."

"We could not always decipher them," Darrin admitted.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Why, it is possible, of course, that sometimes we and our Allies have some keys to the German use of code messages."

"You assert that?" questioned von Schellen, rather eagerly.

"No, and I do not deny it, either," Dave smiled.

"You are interesting, but discreet," complained the German, banteringly.

"And I may say as much of you," Dave continued. "Naturally, you know some things that you would not tell me, and I know a few things that I would not dream of telling you."

"And, instead, you hint at things that are not so, and perhaps I do about the same thing," returned von Schellen.

After that silence fell for some minutes. Dave walked back and forth, the junior officer watching him keenly.

Overhead the crackling at the aerials continued, with occasional intervals of silence when the operator below was busy receiving messages.

Again a petty officer approached von Schellen, saluting and reporting in an undertone.

"It is time for you to go below," announced von Schellen, turning to Dave.

"I appreciate very much this opportunity to take the fresh air," Dave said, politely, as he turned toward the conning tower.

"Oh, I guess you're welcome," said the lieutenant, shortly, and with a meaning smile, "though sometimes there is such a thing as too much outdoor life."

To Darrin's mild astonishment, as he stepped below, a folding table had been set up, and around this were seated the ober-lieutenant and two other officers, one of them an engineer. Von Schellen, at a nod from his chief, made the fourth at the table.

Into this cabin were brought the English couple and the Danish master. Several sailors stood about. The occasion began to take on a formal look, which was heightened when the ober-lieutenant laid on the table a small sheaf of papers.

"First of all, you, Herr Darrin," began the ober-lieutenant. "There can be no doubt that you are Darrin?"

Dave thrust a hand in under his sheepskin, bringing to light a card-case. From it he withdrew a pasteboard which he laid on the table.

"That is my card," he said.

The ober-lieutenant studied it deliberately, then passed it to another officer as he continued:

"And you do not deny that it was you who captured Ober-Lieutenant von Bechtold of the Imperial German Navy. You were the principal witness against him when he was tried in Britain for being a spy?"

"I do not deny it, sir."

"That is all. You may step back."

As Darrin drew back he could not escape the feeling that two of the seamen near him regarded him as being their especial prisoner.

"And now, the Earl and Countess of Denby," called the ober-lieutenant.

The English couple remained as motionless and appeared as unconcerned as though they had not heard.

"You two, I mean," insisted the ober-lieutenant, turning to them.

"Oh," said the man, and stepped forward, his wife following him.

The ober-lieutenant eyed the pair impressively before he asked them:

"You do not deny that you are the Earl and Countess of Denby?"

"No," replied the man.

"Ah! Then you admit it?"

"No," he said, promptly.

"But either you must be, or you cannot be, the noble couple whom I have named. Which is it?"

"That is for you to determine," replied the man.

"But what do you say yourselves?"

"Nothing."

"But you must answer my question!" the commanding officer insisted angrily.

"You fatigue me," declared the man.

"You have not answered my question, and won't?"

"We have nothing to say."

Frowning, the ober-lieutenant whispered to a petty officer, who had placed on the table the same album that von Schellen had brought to the wardroom door. The commanding officer opened the album, pointing to two photographs that adorned a page.

"These are your photographs, are they not?" he demanded, glancing up at the pair. But no reply came from them.

"At least," said the ober-lieutenant, stiffly, "you have been given abundant opportunity to deny, and have declined to do so. Our imperial government has had sufficient information that you two have recently entered the British secret service. It is even known to the imperial government that you two recently undertook to penetrate into Germany, under even another assumed name than Launce, and that you planned to spy upon what was to be learned along the Kiel Canal. You even had some of your arrangements made for performing that seemingly very difficult piece of spy work. You have been charged, and you refuse to deny. It is the same as a confession on your parts. The Earl and Countess of Denby will stand aside."

Two sailors, at a sign from the ober-lieutenant, drew the English pair back.

"Martin Kennor, once master of the Danish freight steamer 'Rigsdak!'" called the commander.

Promptly the Danish skipper stood forward.

"There can be no doubt at all that you answer the description just given?" demanded the ober-lieutenant.

"None vatever," agreed Kennor.

"The only fault to be found with you," continued the ober-lieutenant, "is that you had the misfortune to be found in such company, and that later on your tongue might prove too long and ready. That is all!"

Von Schellen, again on his feet, signalled to some of the seamen, then said:

"The prisoners will follow me."

To the amazement of all he led the way to the conning tower. After him the sailors herded the four prisoners of war. They ascended the ladder, the Englishwoman being the last of the four. Her husband and Captain Kennor assisted her as she stepped through the manhole to the deck outside.

"But this is unkind," she declared, with a shiver. "My husband and I have not our outer wraps, and the night is chilly."

"I will mention the matter," replied von Schellen, stiffly.

The wireless masts and aerials had disappeared. As the four passengers stood on the deck and wondered, the seamen entered the submarine through the manhole in the wake of von Schellen. When the last of them had gone into the conning tower the junior lieutenant re-appeared at the manhole to call:

"A pleasant evening for four!"

Then the manhole cover was closed and there came to those on deck a muffled sound connected with fastening it on the inside.

"What does this new insolence mean?" cried the Englishwoman.

"If you do not guess, you must soon know," replied her husband, throwing an arm about her. It was then that Mrs. Launce understood. She turned pale, but did not cry out.

Perhaps a full minute passed before the submarine began to move forward. Dave Darrin, familiar with the sounds from below, knew that the rumble of machinery coming to his ears was caused, not by the engines used in surface running, but by the electric motors employed when running under water.

"The brutes are going to drown us, as they did the hapless sailors they took from our boat!" gasped the Englishwoman.

"Yes, my dear," replied her husband, "and you have said that you would prefer drowning to being a prisoner in Germany."

"I still say it," she answered quietly.

"We are to have our wish," said her husband.

Dave Darrin remained immobile; Captain Kennor shrugged his shoulders without speaking.

The prow of the craft dipped into the water, which soon came creeping up around their ankles. The forward deck was now out of sight, the water in which they stood rising toward their knees.



CHAPTER XIII

FACING THE PLANNED DEATH

TURNING to Darrin the Englishman held out his hand.

"Good-bye" he said, simply. "You have been a good comrade. I trust you have not been disappointed in us, either."

"Let's not say good-bye yet," urged Dave cheerfully. "Surely we are not going to give up and drown, merely because a lot of German rascals so will it."

"But we cannot last long in the water," protested the Englishman, mildly.

"At least, sir," Dave suggested, "we shall not die until we have to. You swim?"

"Once I did."

"Then you can swim now. The sea is nearly smooth. Let us try to keep together. And you, Captain Kennor? You swim?"

"Yes."

"Good. We'll keep together as long as we can."

At this moment the Englishwoman, the shortest of the quartette, gave a little cry as she found her footing giving way beneath her.

"All together!" cried Darrin, with a cheeriness he did not feel, as he gripped the woman's left arm.

Another drop of the deck sent them all adrift. The Englishman supported his wife on her right. Captain Kennor, nearly silent, but undaunted, swam slightly behind the others that he might offer aid wherever needed.

Strangely enough, though the swimmers spoke to each other occasionally, none now referred to the dastardly conduct of the enemy in setting them thus adrift to drown.

"You are cold, my dear, I know," said the Englishman to his wife. "Are you suffering otherwise?"

"No; but though I would not willingly drown myself, I shall not be sorry when we give up and go down."

"Had I felt that way the last time I found myself in the water," spoke up Dave, "I would not be here now."

"You had on a life belt. Now none of us has," answered the Englishwoman, her teeth chattering. "We cannot last long."

"After my last experience, madam," Dave assured her, "I shall never dare say that as long as life lasts."

"Why not face facts calmly?" she asked. "Probably I shall last a quarter of an hour before I die of cold. I may survive for twenty minutes or a little longer. You are strong, and may keep up for an hour or more. What can possibly come to our aid in that short time?"

"Who can say?" was Dave's counter-question.

For some time, they swam in silence. They did not attempt to make progress. Motion enough to keep afloat was all that was called for.

All at once Dave wondered whether his eyes were playing him tricks, or whether he really saw the top of a conning tower approaching him. It was not likely that the enemy would remain about, and come back to see how it fared with the victims of their cruelty.

Then the something in the water took on another vague shape. Darrin shook his head in an effort to get the water out of his eyes. He peered again. The shape, whatever it was, and if it really existed, was beginning to get on his nerves. It seemed to come nearer.

"Captain Kennor!" called Darrin, sharply.

"Aye!" responded the Dane.

"Are you still swimming strongly?"

"Aye!"

"Then will you swim ahead and see what it is that my eyes show me on the water?"

"Oh, aye!"

With lusty strokes the Dane swam around him, and then ahead.

"A little more to the left!" called Dave.

Then Captain Kennor believed that he saw it, too, and headed straight for the object. Getting nearer he sent back a real cheer.

"What is it?" Darrin called.

"A spar!"

"Any size?"

"Large enough us to hold all up! Swim dis vay! Alone, can I hardly push it to you."

Neither Dave nor the Englishman needed urging. They swam, still bearing the woman between them. The sight of the Dane ahead of them holding to the spar with one arm, and holding up the other hand, heartened them wonderfully.

Soon all three had gained the spar, and Captain Kennor, drawing a cord from his pocket, soon succeeded in lashing the Englishwoman so securely to the spar that she could not slip away and perish.

"Now, you will remember what I said about not giving up," Dave reminded his companions.

"Why, yes, I am buoyed up, and perhaps you men can manage to hold on, also," admitted the woman. "Yet we must freeze to death."

"We will still dare to hope," Darrin replied, calmly.

"You are a splendid inspiration, Mr. Darrin!" declared the Englishman, heartily. "I wish I could believe that you are a true prophet, as well."

"Oh, well," spoke Dave, with a lightness that was deceptive, "I've really been in several worse scrapes than the present one."

But to himself he added:

"May I be forgiven for uttering what seems to me to be a possibly helpful lie!"

Though they were now safely afloat for some time to come, their situation rapidly became worse, owing to the increasing cold. Especially was this noticeable in the case of the Englishwoman.

From time to time her eyes closed. When spoken to she had to exert considerable effort to shake off her languor before she could reply. She became still more drowsy; evidently she was on the verge of freezing to death. From speaking kindly her husband dropped into sharp tones for the sole purpose of keeping her awake. Presently he was forced to resort to light blows in order to bully her into wakefulness. Once she fell soundly asleep she would not again awake.

As for Captain Kennor, he held on almost dumbly. He seldom spoke, his eyes mournfully regarding the woman whose battle for life was slowly being lost.

"This is awful!" cried the Englishman, hoarsely, after another effort to rouse his wife from slumber.

"For all of us," Darrin admitted, "though there is still hope."

"Where?" inquired Captain Kennor.

"I do not know," Dave confessed. "Yes, I do, too, though! Look yonder! No, in that direction!"

At first the others could not make it out. Captain Kennor was the first to see what Dave had found. It was only a low, dark cloud on the horizon, and it looked as though smaller clouds detached themselves and sailed away on the low-hanging sky.

"I see it, too!" cried the Englishman, at last. "But what is it?"

"A ship," Dave answered. "To be more exact, it looks like a destroyer, and it looks too as though it might pass within a quarter of a mile of us."

"Look, my dear—look!" the Englishman urged his wife, shaking her in his eagerness to have her realize the thread of hope that dangled before their eyes. "A ship coming! We are to be saved."

Her eyes opened at last; the woman struggled bravely to show interest in the sight that half-cheered the others, but she could not. She was too far gone, and her eyes closed again.

"Keep your wife awake, sir, if you have to begin to pull her hair from her head!!" It was a command. "See how near that craft is getting. Jove, sir! I believe it is one of our own Yankee ships!"

"But they will not come close enough to see us," objected Captain Kennor, with the practiced eyes of the veteran seaman. "They are not using their searchlight, and we have no way of signalling to them."

Without speaking Darrin tried a desperate hope. In one of his hands something gleamed out into the night.

"What is it?" demanded the Dane. "Himmel! Der flashlight! Vere or ven did you by dat come?"

"I found it in the locker of our sleeping cabin, and hid it in my clothes," Dave answered, as he again tested the light. "I did not want to speak of it unless there should come some hope to us. This light was evidently left by some German who had used that cabin. It's waterproof, too. When I found it I had a hope that it might come in handy before I got through with this adventure. And now!"

Waiting only a minute or two longer, Dave, clinging to the spar with one arm, held the other hand as high aloft as he could.

"Help!" he signalled by flashes in the Morse code. "Help!"

"It is such a tiny glow, to carry so far!" sighed the Englishman.

"Maybe id vill seen be," said Captain Kennor.

Dave continued to signal until, to his great joy, there came an answering signal from a blinker light which asked:

"Who are you?"

"Four castaways, clinging to a spar. Help before we freeze!" Dave flashed back, desperately.

"If only the commander of that boat does not suspect us of being a German submarine springing a trap!" cried the Englishwoman.

A searchlight flashed up, then its broad beam stretched across the waters as the operator tried to pick up the floating ones.

Dave threw the flash into a continuous light while the searchlight beam continued groping. Then, in a blessed instant, the beam struck almost blindingly across the spar and the four human beings held up by it.

"Now, they've spotted us," Dave cried, exultingly. "They won't run away and leave us without a look-in."

Holding the spar with the searchlight beam, the destroyer changed its course, bearing down rapidly upon them. Then it stopped and a motor launch was lowered from davits.

With a burst of speed the launch came alongside the spar. Busy hands were outstretched. The Englishwoman was the first to be taken aboard, after a few quick slashes had freed her from the binding cord.



"Why, here's Lieutenant Commander Darrin!" exclaimed a voice. Dave, almost too weak to speak, was hustled into the boat, then the other two men were taken over.

Blankets were wrapped about the rescued ones, and the launch dashed back to her ship.

"A woman, Lieutenant Commander Darrin and two other men!" the officer in charge of the launch hailed the destroyer.

"Darrin!" cried a voice. There was even greater bustle at the top of the gangway that had been lowered as the launch ran alongside. As swiftly as possible the four rescued ones were rushed up the side.

"Old Darry himself, eh?" cried a joyous voice, as Danny Grin hurried up. "Has the woman any relative in the party?"

"Yes; her husband," Dave answered weakly, then collapsed.

"Take the woman and her husband to my quarters," Dalzell directed. "Have a cot put in and lashed for the husband, and put the woman in the berth. Mr. Darrin and the other man will go to the sick bay."

Willing hands bore the rescued ones as ordered. Dan himself followed Dave's bearers down to the sick bay and there supervised the treatment given Dave and Captain Kennor, while the medical officer went to Dan's quarters, the best on the craft.

The Englishman was soon more comfortable. His wife, however, required serious attention. Dalzell shook his head over Dave, who appeared all in and not able to talk.

"Was he in the water longer than the rest of you?" asked Dalzell, as soon as Captain Kennor was able to talk.

"No; but he vas der water in vonce before," was the reply. "Der second time he could stand not so well."

That gave Dan the clue. As soon as the medical officer could be spared from the care of the Englishwoman for a few moments he was ordered to the sick bay.

"Mr. Darrin may pull through, but I won't guarantee anything," said the surgeon, after an examination. "The chances are all against him. I am afraid the woman is going to die also."



CHAPTER XIV

DAVE PLEDGES HIS WORD FOR RESULTS

THAT double report helped Dan Dalzell to make up his mind.

"Run straight for port," he ordered the executive officer, naming the nearest British haven that offered rail connection.

In an hour and a half the destroyer had dropped anchor at the port.

More medical aid was brought aboard, including a trained nurse for the Englishwoman.

A few hours after daylight the woman had recovered sufficiently to warrant her removal to a hospital on shore. No strong hopes were yet entertained of keeping her alive for more than a day or two. Her husband had stood the watery ordeal much better.

Captain Kennor, who, with Dave, was taken to the hospital later in the day, had nearly recovered by the day following.

But for Dave Darrin there followed black hours. According to the doctors a severe case of pneumonia was about the best that could be predicted for him.

On the day after he was taken ashore Darrin opened his eyes with a light of recognition in them. At the foot of the cot, in a chair, sat a stalwart, youthful figure. Dan Dalzell, whose orders took him to sea again that night, was waiting to the last for better news.

"Dan," Dave called, softly, and Dalzell was instantly bending over him.

"David, little giant, did you know that the 'Reed' had the good luck to pick you up?" asked Dan, eagerly.

"I had a notion of it, but I was too dazed to know really," Darrin answered.

"I've been here about all the time ever since," Dan went on. "I wanted to know the news of you as soon as it could be had. But you're going to be all right, now."

"Of course I am," agreed Dave, feebly.

Unseen by the man on the hospital cot, Dan signalled with one hand. Down the ward came a doctor, followed by a young woman wearing the blue cape ulster of the Red Cross. There was a quick, glad cry; soft lips touched Dave's face.

"Belle!" gasped Dave, delightedly.

"I'm going to be allowed to sit by you quite a bit, dear, if you don't try to talk to me," replied the steady voice of Belle Darrin. Summoned by cable sent by Dan, Belle had journeyed swiftly from France.

"And now I'm off and back to my ship, Belle," said Dan. "But I know you'll find a way to get a radio message through to me when Dave is improved enough to warrant it. Good-bye, Darry, old chap!"

And Dan was off, not because he didn't want to stay, but because he knew his chum would want to see the most of Belle. As for that young woman, who held none too positive hopes of Darrin's recovery after what the doctors had told her, she forced herself to be calm and smiling and sat close by, her hand on Dave's forehead when he dropped off into a feverish, troubled sleep.

The next day Belle chatted with her husband a little, in a cool, steady voice. Two days after that Dave was actually permitted to sit up.

On the sixth day after he had been taken to the hospital Dave was mending so rapidly that Belle, who was obliged to leave that afternoon for her Red Cross post in France, felt wholly easy in mind as to his condition.

"It was a lucky chain of events, my two swims in the channel," Darrin told her before they parted.

"Lucky, when the experience nearly cost you your life?" exclaimed Belle.

"It gave you an excuse for coming to me, and gave me the time and leisure to be with you."

"Dave Darrin, you don't mean any such thing! You are needed aboard your ship, and I am needed for my work in France, and nothing can be called really good luck that takes either of us away from his post of duty in war-time."

"You little patriot!" Dave laughed, jestingly.

"You believe it just as much as I do," Belle maintained stoutly. "I'm glad to have been here with you, dear, but I shall be glad to find myself back at my post. And you know you are glad that you will return to your ship tomorrow."

"If she comes in," Darrin amended.

"Dave, aren't you nearly wild to get back to duty?" she persisted.

"Yes, I am, for as you say, dear, we are all needed at the posts assigned to us. There is another reason why I must get back. The work that has been cut out for us is not proceeding as it should. We have made some good 'catches' in the way of mines, yet the fact is that mines are being planted much faster than we have been taking them up. I must get back to duty and see if I can find out what is wrong."

Buttoning his overcoat tightly Dave Darrin walked with Belle to the railway station. The train left so soon after their arrival that there were not many moments left the young couple for leave-taking. After the train had started Dave watched it out of sight. There had been something uncomfortable in his throat, but as he turned away the lump vanished and his jaws set squarely.

"Now, my work is cut out for me," he told himself. "I can do only one man's part in this war, but I must do that to the limit and try to make the world a safe place of residence for that little woman and all others like her!"

No sooner was the "Grigsby" in port, the next forenoon, than Lieutenant Fernald came ashore and straight to the hospital.

"Going on board today, sir?" was Fernald's greeting.

"You couldn't keep me ashore any longer," Darrin declared.

"Good enough!" said the executive officer, heartily. "We need you, sir! We've been doing our best, but the enemy has been gaining on us. Last night two ships struck mines and went down before rescue could reach them. The Germans are beating us at this mine game, and something must be done, which, of course, sir, is another way of saying that a way must be found to do the right and necessary thing."

"I've been thinking that over for twenty-four hours," Darrin went on. "As soon as we are aboard I want to talk the whole situation over with you. Will Dalzell be in today?"

"In about an hour, sir, I think. He needs fuel and some food supplies."

"Then we'll hold a council of war in the chart-room," Dave decided, as he buttoned up his coat. "I'm ready, Fernald."

Dave had already thanked the hospital authorities, and taken leave of them, so the two young naval officers passed outside, made their way down to the water front, and soon thereafter stepped aboard the "Grigsby," reporting their arrival on board to the watch officer. Dave also saw that the forward gun damaged in the fight with the German destroyers had been replaced by a new one. From the gangway they went direct to the chart-room.

"I'll hear the reports on the work now, Fernald," Dave announced.

Two of the papers that came under Dave's hand especially interested him. One was a detailed list of the ships that had struck mines during the last week in the waters in which he and Dalzell had been operating. The other document contained a report on the discovery and sinking of one fighting submarine and one submarine mine-layer.

From these reports Dave turned to the charts of the local waters. When Fernald came back with Dan Dalzell, Dave was still poring over the charts.

"From the rapid way in which German mines are being planted in these waters," Dave told his brother officers, "I am satisfied that the enemy submarines do not usually go all the way back to the base port. I believe that the mine-layers are often met by other craft that supply them with mines, and that the submarine mine-layers return quickly to the job of planting mines. Now, the sea area in which the mines are planted leads me to feel certain that the mine-layers rest frequently on these three shoals."

Dave pointed on the chart to the shoals in question.

"How many mine-sweeping craft have we now under our orders?" he inquired.

"Nine," said Dan, promptly.

"How many of them can we spare from mine-sweeping?"

"None," Dalzell replied, positively.

"Either we must spare some, or we must have some sweeper craft added to our fleet," Dave went on. "There are three of these shoals, and hereafter I want two mine-sweepers to spend their time dragging their wires over each shoal. That will take six craft, and these will not have time to do any sweeping in the open sea. We cannot clean up the mines themselves with three craft, can we?"

"Plainly not," Dan agreed, "since, with all nine, we have not been able to find and take up all the mines we should have located."

"Then we shall have to have more craft," Dave nodded. "Yet if we cannot have more craft assigned to this work, we must go ahead with what we have and do more work. But I believe that the hunt over the shoals should be kept up day and night, without rest, for I am satisfied that the enemy mine-layers rest on these shoals more frequently than we have supposed."

After some further conversation Dave had his launch cleared away and went over to a British battleship for a conference with the British admiral in command in those waters. The best the admiral could do was to supply him with three of the hundred-and-ten-foot patrol boats. These, however, were provided with sweepers and possessed good speed.

"I hope you're right, Mr. Darrin," said the admiral, at the close of the interview. "To be frank with you, your predecessor in the work of cleaning up enemy mines in this area was a British naval officer, considerably older than yourself. He is a very capable man in many ways, but we felt that he had been so long on coast work that he was growing much too stale. So, when I decided to transfer him to other duties I thought of trying one of your American officers, a young man, full of spirit, and fresh for this work. So I asked your admiral for some one, and he sent Dalzell and yourself."

"So far," said Dave, "I have not done any better than my English predecessor, sir?"

"Frankly you have not, yet we must remember to deduct your very necessary week in hospital. However, you have done some other excellent things. The capture of the mine-laying neutral, the 'Olga,' for instance, was a splendid bit of work. The fight that you and Mr. Dalzell had with the three enemy destroyers was a fine job. But the mines in these waters continue to be as much of a menace as before."

"They won't be, by this time next week, sir. I promise that," said Dave, rising. "How soon can the commanders of the three patrol boats report to me?"

"At once. All three are here in the harbor, and, I am told, they are ready to put to sea."

"Then, sir, I propose, within a week, to hand you a wholly satisfactory report," Darrin went on. "I had to put in some time on the ground, and it was necessary to study a new problem. Then came a series of adventures that took me out of the work for a while. But now, sir, I hope to show you something new—results!"



CHAPTER XV

DARRIN SUSPECTS THE GERMAN PLAN

THE three shoals selected by Darrin extended over a length of about thirty miles along the coast. It was the center one of these shoals on which he had had previous experience.

Further, it was arranged that Dalzell should, in general, cruise along the lower fifteen miles of this stretch, while the "Grigsby" should cover the upper half. From time to time the two destroyers would meet.

After sending three mine-sweepers and the three patrol boats to the shoals, two craft to each shoal, Darrin saw to it that the other six were assigned to duty in the deeper waters off shore.

Then, with a hearty signal to the "Reed," the "Grigsby" started northward. She steamed by the southernmost shoal, and was passing the second when Darrin was called to the bridge by Ensign Ormsby.

"That patrol boat in there signals that she has made a find, sir, so I have changed the course and am heading in."

Dave's eyes gleamed as he made out the next signal from the patrol, which was:

"Soundings show her to be a big craft. Shall we rig the small bombs on the sweep wires?"

"Wait until we arrive," was the answering signal from the "Grigsby."

In a few minutes the destroyer was within hailing distance of the patrol boat, which was lying to in the neighborhood of the find.

"The enemy submarine appears to be at least 275 feet long, sir," reported the patrol boat commander.

"Then a depth bomb should do the business better," Dave shouted back through the megaphone. "Sail over the craft with your sweep, and I'll follow. Signal when you judge us to be squarely over her."

Under bare headway the "Grigsby" fell in behind the now slow-moving patrol boat. Almost at once the wire sweeps discovered the hull of the hiding monster.

Ahead steamed the patrol boat, the destroyer following. Aft two men stood by the depth bomb apparatus. Down came the white flag of the British signalman on the smaller craft.

Dave's hand rested on the telegraph lever to the engine-room. He signalled for full speed ahead, then at the proper moment he shouted:

"Let her go!"

An instant later the bomb splashed into the water.

Immediately following the splash there came a sullen, rending roar under water. A great column of water leaped up from the sea, a heavy volume of it landing on the after deck of the destroyer, all but washing overboard one of the lookouts. The pressure of water fairly lifted the stern of the "Grigsby" until her bow dipped far in.

Ensign Ormsby was thrown flat, almost rolling from the bridge. Dave, fortunately, had taken a grip that saved him from falling.

It seemed as though the destroyer herself had been blown up, but she quickly settled and scooted ahead at a furious rate.

"Half speed ahead," Darrin signalled, as soon as he could let go his grip, and the "Grigsby" slowed down. At the same time she swung around.

Even at that distance the huge spread of oil on the surface could be seen. A wild Yankee cheer rose, which was promptly echoed by the British tars of the patrol boat.

"No depth bomb ever made that upheaval," Dave gasped, as soon as he could speak, and Mr. Ormsby, much shaken, had picked himself up. "The bombs are ugly affairs, but that felt like the explosion of about ten of them."

"Did you notice, sir, that the explosion lasted more than twice as long as we've ever known one to last before?" the watch officer asked.

"Yes."

"Then what happened, sir?"

"Either our explosion touched off a torpedo, which does not seem likely, or else—"

For an instant what he was about to say sounded so absurd that Darrin hesitated.

"Well, sir—?" queried Ormsby.

"Or else that was a mine-layer, with a full cargo of mines aboard, all ready for business, and—But you'll think I've gone daffy."

"No, I won't, sir; not after the way this ship rose out of the water," the watch officer declared. "You mean, sir, that our bomb went off right over that craft's cargo of mines, and that the shock must have set off the mines."

"That's certainly the way it looks to me," Darrin nodded.

"I believe it, sir."

Just a few moments later the patrol boat came within hail. Through his megaphone Darrin stated what he believed had taken place.

"It's the only thing to account, sir, for such a tremendous explosion," replied the commander of the patrol. "I've been on hand to see a lot of depth bombs go off, and I never saw an upheaval like the one you produced, sir."

"Have soundings taken, Mr. Ormsby," Darrin directed. The depth of the water was quickly reported. Dave glanced at the sky.

"The light will be strong enough for another hour," he decided. "Have our two divers prepare to go down at once."

A launch, cleared away with the divers on board, was anchored in the middle of the oil spot. Two divers went over the side. Presently they signalled for extra cables. When these were let down they attached pieces of metal and gave the signal to haul away.

By the time that the hour was up Darrin had abundant evidence to prove that he had destroyed a mine-layer, and that his bomb had blown up several mines stored on the craft. This evidence took the form of fragments of mines.

"Some of these pieces must even have been driven up against our hull," Darrin declared. "It is a wonder that we were not sunk."

"The counter pressure of the water would lessen the force of these fragments, especially after they had been blown out through the shell of the submarine," Lieutenant Fernald argued. "But I agree with you, sir, that it's a wonder the 'Grigsby' suffered nothing worse than a shaking."

Other evidence, too, the divers sent up. The destroyed craft had surely been a mine-laying submarine. The divers measured the length of the wrecked hull, finding it to be close to three hundred feet. They reported, too, that scores of German dead lay in the wreckage.

For hours nothing more happened. Just before ten o'clock that night the mine-sweeper's blinkers signalled a call to the "Grigsby," then about four miles distant.

"They've found something," Darrin chuckled, when he reached the bridge on a call from Lieutenant Fernald.

As the "Grigsby" was heading in toward the shoal, and had some minutes still to go, Darrin asked:

"Mr. Fernald, you had a second and even more thorough inspection of the hull made, as I directed?"

"Yes, sir; and found the hull so secure that I did not wake you to tell you, sir. There has been no strain of the plates sufficient to start any of them."

"I'm thankful to hear that," Darrin acknowledged. "Even with the big, elastic cushion of water between us and that awful explosion, it seems almost incredible that we did not wreck ourselves as well as the enemy."

"You've found another submarine?" Dave shouted through the megaphone, as he rang for slow speed and ran parallel with the waiting snub-nosed craft.

"We've found two somethings, sir," came back the reply. "They lie about four hundred feet apart and heading in the same direction. I can find them again, sir, but I didn't go back over them for fear they'd take the alarm and run for it."

"Perhaps they have," Darrin suggested.

"I've dropped small buoys, sir, and can lead you over them."

"Then do so, and travel at full speed. Be prepared to get out of our way if we come fast after dropping."

Even the two cool-headed sailors who stood by the depth bomb apparatus stiffened themselves as they found the "Grigsby" following in the wake of the mine-sweeper. The after lookouts lashed themselves fast against injury by any such surprise as that of the afternoon.

As the signal flashed from the mine-sweeper ahead Dave passed the order for the bomb instantly after ordering full speed.

There was an explosion, but an ordinary one, such as this crew of the destroyer was accustomed to.

At full speed, too, Dave tried for the second hidden enemy boat. There was barely time to have the second bomb in place when signal and order came.

Another terrific explosion, like that of the afternoon! It seemed as though the waters must divide! Yet the "Grigsby," moving fast all the time, felt the shock severely, but not like the one of the afternoon.

About the destroyer came, playing her searchlight on the waters. The tell-tale oil patches were there, showing only too plainly that two submarine craft had been destroyed.

"Apparently one craft carried no mines, while the other was loaded with them," said Dave to his executive officer. "Fernald, I think I'm beginning to get an idea of the way the enemy are working their mine-laying game. If I'm right we'll make a record along this patch of shoals while the hunting lasts."

Patiently Fernald listened and waited, but did not speak. He hoped to hear what his chief's idea was, but it was not the executive officer's place to ask for it.

"I may even be able to figure out when the best time would be for hunting these lazy rascals resting on the bottom," Darrin continued.

Mr. Fernald began to show signs of a more active curiosity.

"But I won't say much about it," Darrin smiled, "until I've more data to work on and have proved some part of my theory."

Lieutenant Fernald looked so much like a man who wished to speak that Dave laughed.

"Out with it, Fernald," he urged good-humoredly. "You've an idea, too. You may tell me if you wish."

"Why, sir," replied the executive officer, "I've about concluded that the enemy mine-laying submarines do not go back to base port for more mines. They have some method for delivering them near here, and thus the mine-layers are able to keep more steadily at work."

"That fits in excellently with my idea," Darrin nodded.

"And that would account for the great numbers of mines that the enemy is able to lay hereabouts, and yet not have many of the craft caught by us," Lieutenant Fernald continued.

"Exactly," Dave agreed. "Moreover, the mine-layers take on their new supplies at night, and do their resting here at night, and get away from these shoals just before daylight."

"Of course," Fernald agreed. "If they rested here much in the daytime the aircraft would discover and destroy them."

"We'll both keep at work on our ideas, Fernald," Dave proposed. "Besides, we can take time to find facts to support our theories. Then we can get together and start in the biggest smashing of mine-laying craft on record."

Both paused in their talk to listen to the sudden boom of guns. Judged by the sound and the wind, the firing was some six miles away.

"Lookout there!" Darrin sang out. "Do you see anything?"

"Yes, sir," came the reply from aloft. "It must be the 'Reed,' sir. She must have gotten into something stiff, for she's moving shoreward at slow speed and firing as fast as she can serve her guns. She's firing in shoreward, sir."