Halsey Davidson - Navy Boys Behind the Big Guns
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Halsey Davidson >> Navy Boys Behind the Big Guns
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NAVY BOYS BEHIND THE BIG GUNS
Or
Sinking the German U-Boats
by
HALSEY DAVIDSON
Author of
"Navy Boys after the Submarines," "Navy Boys
Chasing a Sea Raider," Etc.
Illustrated
New York
George Sully & Company
Publishers
[Illustration: The gunners were literally "stripped for action," their
glistening supple bodies alert as panthers.]
* * * * *
BOOKS FOR BOYS
NAVY BOYS SERIES
BY HALSEY DAVIDSON
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated
NAVY BOYS AFTER THE SUBMARINES
Or Protecting the Giant Convoy
NAVY BOYS CHASING A SEA RAIDER
Or Landing a Million Dollar Prize
NAVY BOYS BEHIND THE BIG GUNS
Or Sinking the German U-Boats
NAVY BOYS TO THE RESCUE
Or Answering the Wireless Call for Help
NAVY BOYS AT THE BIG SURRENDER
Or Rounding Up the German Fleet
THE NAVY BOYS ON SPECIAL SERVICE
Or Guarding the Floating Treasury
GEORGE SULLY & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY
GEORGE SULLY & COMPANY
_Navy Boys Chasing a Sea Raider_
PRINTED IN U.S.A.
* * * * *
NAVY BOYS BEHIND THE BIG GUNS
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I A RUN TO ELMVALE 1
II THE STRANGER 11
III THE WATER WHEEL 19
IV S. P. 888 27
V THE STREAK ON THE WATER 38
VI AN OLD FRIEND 44
VII FOG HAUNTED 54
VIII PUZZLED 64
IX JUST TOO LATE 74
X AHEAD OF THE FLOOD 81
XI UNEXPECTED PERIL 90
XII COURAGE 100
XIII THE KENNEBUNK SAILS 106
XIV AN UNEXPECTED TARGET 115
XV THE BIG GUN SPEAKS 127
XVI AN ACCIDENT 135
XVII BLOWN UP 144
XVIII MORE TROUBLE 155
XIX COINCIDENCE 162
XX THE WITCH'S WARNING 173
XXI THE EXPLANATION 180
XXII THE RACE 190
XXIII UNDER SPECIAL ORDERS 196
XXIV TICK-TOCK! TICK-TOCK! 204
XXV IN THE THICK OF THE FIGHT 211
NAVY BOYS BEHIND THE
BIG GUNS
CHAPTER I
A RUN TO ELMVALE
When Philip Morgan announced his approach by an unusually cheerful
strain, Al Torrance was already behind the steering wheel of his
father's car, with the engine purring smoothly.
"'Lo, Whistler," Al said. "Thought you had forgotten where we planned to
go this morning. What made you so late?"
"'Lo, Torry. Never hit the hay till after one. Just talking. My jaws
ache," Morgan broke off his whistling long enough to say.
"Sure it isn't whistling that's made your jaws ache?" queried his chum
slyly. "Not having had much chance to pipe up while we were aboard ship,
I guess you are making up for lost time."
"Talking, I tell you," returned Morgan. "Thought the girls never would
let me stop. And father, too. Mother won't own up she's reconciled to my
being in the Navy," and Whistler grinned suddenly. "But she listened to
all I told them, too. She was just as eager to hear about it as Phoebe
and Alice."
"Guess you made yourself out to be some tough garby," chuckled Torrance,
using the term the seamen themselves employ to designate a sailor.
"Oh, I gave 'em an earful," Whistler agreed, and puckered his lips
again.
"Come on and get in," ordered Torry impatiently. "Pa's got to use the
car this afternoon. But he says we can have it to run over to Elmvale
in, if we want."
"Where are Frenchy and Ikey?" Whistler broke off in his tune again to
ask.
"Going to wait for us down on High Street--and Seven Knott, too."
"Did Hansie say he'd go?" cried the other sailor boy. "Bet he's sore as
he can be because he's not with the _Colodia_ and Lieutenant Lang."
"He'd never 've taken this furlough, he says, if his mother hadn't
begged so hard. Did you ever see a garby so stuck on a gold stripe as
Seven Knott is on Lieutenant Commander Lang?" said Torry, rather
scornfully.
"I don't know. Mr. Lang has been a good friend to Hans Hertig. This is
his second hitch under Mr. Lang," Whistler said.
"Wonder if we'll enlist a second time, too, Whistler."
"Bet you!" was the succinct reply.
The car started under Torry's careful guidance, and they quickly whisked
around the corner into the main street of Seacove, the small port in
which the chums had been born and had lived all their lives until they
had enlisted as seamen apprentices in the Navy not many months before.
They passed the little cottage in which Mrs. Hertig, Seven Knott's
mother, lived. Beyond that was the Donahue home, where Frenchy's widowed
mother lived with his younger brothers and sisters.
Then came the Rosenmeyer delicatessen shop, and there the car was pulled
down by Torry, for there was a little group outside the shop, the center
of which were three figures in blue.
"Look at those happy Jacks, will you?" ejaculated Torry in feigned
disgust. "Got an audience, haven't they? And even Seven Knott must be
talking some, too. What do you know about that?"
For the attitude of Seacove had changed mightily since these boys had
joined the Navy early in 1917. War had been declared between the United
States and Germany and her allies, the drafted men were being called to
the training camps, and some had already gone "over there" and were
fighting in the trenches of northern France.
Philip Morgan, Alfred Torrance, Michael Donahue, Ikey Rosenmeyer, and
their mates on the destroyer _Colodia_ had already aided in convoying a
large number of troop ships across the Atlantic, had chased submarines
and destroyed at least one of the enemy U-boats, and had hunted for and
captured the German raider, _Graf von Posen_, which had among the other
loot in her hold the treasure of the Borgias which had been purchased
from an Italian nobleman by the four Navy boys' very good friend, Mr.
Alonzo Minnette.
The four friends, Morgan, Torrance, Donahue, and Ikey Rosenmeyer, the
son of the proprietor of the village delicatessen store, had been given
a furlough since landing at Norfolk with the captured raider, of the
prize crew of which they had been members. Coming north to Seacove
by train, they had met their shipmate, Hans Hertig, known aboard the
_Colodia_ as Seven Knott, who had likewise been given a furlough after
leaving the naval hospital where he had been convalescing from a wound.
The _Colodia_ was still at sea--or across the Atlantic--or somewhere.
The young seamen who belonged to her crew did not know where. They
awaited her return to port in order to rejoin her.
They had another iron in the fire, too; but that they did not talk about
much, even among themselves. Mr. Minnette, who was their very good
friend, and who worked now in a War Department office at Washington in a
lay capacity, had told them he would try his best to get them aboard a
new superdreadnaught that was just out of the yard and was being fitted
for her maiden cruise.
A number of Naval Reserves would be put aboard this new huge ship; and
the Seacove boys, with their experience in the training school at
Saugarack and aboard the _Colodia_, surely would be of some use as
temporary members of the dreadnaught's crew.
The boys had written Mr. Minnette about Seven Knott, for he was eager to
get back into harness, too. And Seven Knott had held the rank of
boatswain's mate aboard the _Colodia_.
Naturally the friends were all eager to get behind the big guns. Almost
every boy who joins the Navy desires to become a gunner. Whistler and Al
Torrance were particularly striving for that position, and they studied
the text-books and took every opportunity offered them to gain knowledge
in that branch of the service.
"Hi, fellows!" called Torry, having stopped the car. "Going to stand
there gassing all day?"
The three figures in seaman's dress broke away from their admiring friends
and approached the automobile. Frenchy Donahue was a little fellow with
pink cheeks, bright eyes, and an Irish smile. Ikey Rosenmeyer was a shrewd
looking lad who always had a fund of natural fun on tap. The older man,
Hans Hertig, was round-faced and solemn looking, and seldom had much to
say. He had had an adventurous experience both as a fisherman and naval
seaman, and really attracted more attention in his home town than did the
four boy chums.
"Get in, fellows," urged Torry. "We want to be sure to catch those chaps
at Elmvale during the noon hour. They go home from the munition works
for dinner, and we must talk with them then."
Frenchy and Ikey and Seven Knott climbed into the tonneau and the car
whizzed away, leaving the crowd of boys and girls, and a few adults,
staring after them.
"By St. Patrick's piper that played the last snake out of Ireland!"
sighed Frenchy, ecstatically, "we never was of such importance since we
was christened--hey, fellows?"
"Oi, oi!" murmured Ikey, wagging his head, "my papa don't even suggest
I should take out the orders to the customers no more. He does it himself,
or he hires a feller to do it for him.
"Mind, now! Last night he closed the shop an hour early so's to sit down
with my mama and me and Aunt Eitel in the back room, after the kids was
all in bed, and made me tell about all we'd done and seen. I tell you
it's great!"
"And before we began our hitch," Al Torrance chuckled, as he expertly
rounded a corner, "we were scarcely worth speaking to in Seacove. Now
folks want to stop us on the street and tell us how much they think of
us."
"Gee!" exploded Frenchy, "I could eat candy and ice cream all day long
if I'd let the kids spend money on me."
"We're sure some pumpkins," drawled Whistler Morgan, dryly, sitting
around in the front seat so he could talk with those in the rear.
"I say, Hans!"
"Yep?" was Seven Knott's reply.
"Do you really think we can get some of those fellows at Elmvale to go
to the recruiting office and enlist?"
"Yep. You fellows can tell 'em. You can talk better'n I can."
Seven Knott knew his shipboard duties thoroughly, and never was
reprimanded for neglect of them. But since the four chums had known him
well, the petty officer had been no conversationalist, that was sure.
"If this war was going to be won by talk, like some fellows in Congress
seem to think," Al Torrance once said, "Seven Knott wouldn't have a
chance. But it is roughnecks just like him that man the boats and shoot
the guns that are going to show Kaiser Bill where he gets off--believe
me!"
Elmvale was a factory town not more than six miles above Seacove. It was
on the river, at the mouth of which was situated the little port in
which were the homes of Whistler Morgan and his friends.
The biggest dam in the State, the Elmvale Dam, held back the waters of
the river above the village; and below the dam were several big mills
and factories that got their power from the use of the water.
On both sides of the stream, and around the cotton mills, the thread
mills, and the munition factories, were built many little homes of the
factory and mill hands. It had been pointed out by the local papers that
these homes were in double peril at this time.
Guards were on watch night and day that ill-affected persons should not
come into the district and blow up the munition factories. But there was
a second and greater danger to the people of Elmvale.
If anything should happen to the dam, if it should burst, the enormous
quantity of water held in leash by the structure would pour over the
village and cover half the houses to their chimney tops.
Two bridges crossed the river at Elmvale; one at the village proper and
the other just below the dam itself and about half a mile from the first
mill, Barron & Brothers' Thread Factory.
"Let's take the upper road," proposed Frenchy, as the car came within
sight of the chimneys of the Elmvale mills. "We've plenty of time before
the noon whistle blows. I haven't been up by the dam since before we all
joined the Navy."
"Just as you fellows say," Al responded, and turned into a side road
that soon brought them above the mills on the ridge overlooking the
valley.
"I say, fellows," Whistler stopped whistling long enough to observe,
"there's a slue of water behind that dam. S'pose she should let go all
of a sudden?"
"I'd rather be up here than down there," Al said.
"Oi, oi!" croaked Ikey, "you said something."
"I wonder if they guard that dam as they say they do the munition
factories," Frenchy put in.
Al turned the machine into the road that descended into the valley by a
sharp incline. In sight of the bridge which crossed the river Whistler
suddenly put his hand upon his chum's arm.
"Hold on, Torry," he said earnestly. "I bet that's one of the guards
now. See that fellow in the bushes over there?"
"I see the man you mean!" Frenchy exclaimed, leaning over the back of
the front seat of the automobile. "But he isn't in khaki. And he hasn't
got a gun."
All the Navy boys in the automobile, even Seven Knott, saw the man to
whom Whistler Morgan had first drawn attention. The man had his back to
the road. He was standing upright with a pair of field glasses to his
eyes. His interest seemed fixed on a point along the face of the dam
just where a thin slice of water ran over the flashboard into the rocky
bed of the river.
CHAPTER II
THE STRANGER
For the life of him Phil Morgan could not have told why he was so keenly
interested in that stranger. He could not see the man's face; he did not
presume it was anybody he had ever seen before; nor had he any reason to
be suspicious of the man.
Nevertheless he felt a little thrill as he first caught sight of the
stranger, and this feeling spurred his exclamation to Torry, which lead
the others' attention to him.
After they had all seen the man, Phil added: "Pull her down. Let's see
what he is up to."
Torrance stopped the automobile. His chum was their acknowledged leader
in most things, and all the other Navy boys were used to obeying Phil
Morgan's mandates without much question. As told in the former books of
this series, Morgan was an observant and level-headed youth, and his
friends might have followed a much more dangerous leader in both work
and play.
The four boys, at that time all under eighteen years of age, had begun
their first enlistment in the Navy several months before the United
States got into the war. They spent some months in the training camp at
Saugarack, on the New England coast.
The Government commissioned new craft of all kinds as rapidly as they
could be obtained, and was obliged to man some of them partly with
youths who had not yet finished their preliminary training ashore.
Phil Morgan and his friends had made rapid progress in their studies and
the drills, and they were lucky enough to be assigned to the same ship.
This was the destroyer _Colodia_, one of the newest of her class, a fast
ship of a thousand tons' burden. She made two cruises, both crammed full
of excitement and adventure; and the story of these cruises is related
in the first volume of the series, entitled "Navy Boys After the
Submarines; Or, Protecting the Giant Convoy."
In this first narrative of their adventures in the United States Navy,
Phil had a very thrilling experience. He fell overboard from his ship
and was picked up by the German U-boat No. 812.
After the conclusion of the destroyer's second cruise the four chums
from Seacove were enabled to spend a week at home. Returning to the
port in which they had been instructed to join the _Colodia_ the
evening before she again was to sail, the four chums were held up by a
burning railroad bridge, which had been set on fire by German agents.
It looked as though they would be unable to reach the _Colodia_ on time.
This event would be a very serious matter, for the naval authorities
frown upon any tardiness of enlisted men in returning from shore leave.
Besides, the boys particularly desired to be aboard the _Colodia_ during
her coming cruise.
The second volume of the series opened with this situation. The boys
made the acquaintance of an influential man, Mr. Alonzo Minnette, who
was likewise a passenger on the stalled train. And he made it possible
for the four apprentice seamen to reach their ship in time.
In this second volume entitled: "Navy Boys Chasing a Sea Raider; Or,
Landing a Million Dollar Prize," the four young members of the
_Colodia's_ crew, whose adventures we are following, had many thrilling
experiences. In the end, the destroyer, by a ruse, captured the _Graf
von Posen_, a noted sea raider, and Whistler and his chums are allowed
to board her as part of the prize crew.
The boys were particularly interested in the cargo of the raider, for
Mr. Minnette had promised them a thousand dollars to divide among them
if they discovered aboard the raider the treasure of the Borgias, a
collection of precious stones, that the captain of the _Graf von Posen_
had taken from an Italian merchant ship which had been captured and sunk
by the Germans.
Naturally the Navy boys were interested in having others join the Navy;
and Hans Hertig, whom they found at home visiting his mother, was
particularly anxious to get some young men, who were working in Elmvale
and who came of German stock like himself, to enlist and show their
patriotism and love for the country of their birth.
"Say! what do you suppose is the matter with that chap?" Frenchy
demanded at last in his rather high, penetrating voice.
Instantly the man in the bushes turned and saw the automobile. Like a
flash he settled down in his tracks and disappeared. One moment he was a
plain figure standing out against the background of the dam; the next he
was not there at all!
"By St. Patrick's piper that played the last snake out of Ireland!"
gasped Frenchy, "he ain't there no more."
"You poor fish!" ejaculated Al in disgust, "you scared him off with your
squealing. Who do you suppose he was?"
"And what is he doing over there?" added Ikey Rosenmeyer.
"Funny thing," observed Whistler. "Must be something important up on
that dam he was looking at through his glasses."
"Might as well drive on," growled Al, punching the starter button again.
"This Frenchman from Cork would spoil anything."
"Aw--g'wan!" muttered the abashed Michael Donahue.
"Well, that chap was no guard, that is sure," Whistler said.
They drove slowly on across the bridge. All of them searched the base of
the dam--or as much of it as could be seen, for the fringe of trees and
shrubs that masked it--but not a moving figure did they see. The water
poured over the flashboard with a splashing murmur at that distance, and
ran down under the bridge in a rocky bed. It was clear and cool looking.
Below the factories the river water was of an entirely different color,
and people in Seacove had begun to object to the filth from the Elmvale
mills being dumped into the cove.
Al Torrance stopped the car at the side gate of the biggest munition
works just as the noon whistle blew. Seven Knott got out and began to
look about for his friends to whom he had tried to talk enlistment.
He soon spied two of them, and beckoned them near. Others followed.
Whistler and his chums were introduced by the boatswain's mate, who left
the talking to the youths after he had introduced his friends.
In five minutes there was a very earnest enlistment meeting going on at
the gate of the munition factory. Perhaps no harder place to gain
recruits could have been selected. In the first instance, all the boys
working here were earning big money. And there was, too, some excitement
in the work. As one of them said:
"You Jackies haven't anything on us. We don't know but any moment we may
be blown sky-high."
"True for you," put in Frenchy smartly. "But you don't get any fun out
of your danger. We do. And we get promotion and steadily increased pay
and a chance to get up in the world."
"Sure!" broke in Al. "Some day we're all going to win gold stripes;
aren't we, fellows?"
His chums declared he was right. But one listener said doubtfully:
"You won't ever win commissions if you get sunk or blown up, on one of
those blamed old iron pots."
"Say!" put in Ikey Rosenmeyer hotly, "you fellows won't get no advance
in rating at all, and you may get blown up any time. We've got
something to work for, we have!"
"We've got money to work for," declared one of the munition workers.
"Oi, oi!" sneered Ikey. "What's money yet?" A sneer which vastly amused
his chums, for Ikey's inborn love for the root of all evil was well
known.
As the group stood talking, along came a man, walking briskly from the
direction the Seacove boys had come in their automobile. Two or three of
the munition workers spoke to the man, who was broad-shouldered, walked
with a brisk military step, and was heavily bewhiskered.
Whistler stopped talking to a possible candidate for the blue uniform of
the Navy, and looked after this stranger.
"Who is he?" he asked.
"That's Blake. Works in our laboratory. Nice fellow," was the reply.
"Oh! I didn't know but he was one of the men guarding the dam," Whistler
murmured.
"Shucks! there aren't any guards up there. There are soldiers here at
the factories, though."
"Is that so?" questioned Whistler. "Where's he been, do you suppose?"
"Who? Blake?"
"That man," said young Morgan grimly.
"Oh, he's a bug on natural history, or the like. Always tapping rocks
with a hammer, or hunting specimens, or botanizing. Great chap. Hasn't
been here in Elmvale long. But everybody likes him."
Phil made no further comment aloud, but to himself he said:
"He wasn't botanizing through that field-glass; or knocking specimens
off of rocks. His interest was centered on the face of the dam. I wonder
why?"
For the military looking man, called Blake, was the individual he and
his friends had seen in the bushes as they drove along the Upper Road,
and who had seemed desirous of being unobserved by the passers-by.
CHAPTER III
THE WATER WHEEL
Phil Morgan was no more suspicious by nature than his chums. Merely a
thought had come into his mind that had not come into theirs; and he
disliked to be annoyed by anything in the nature of an unsolved problem.
He always wanted to know why.
In this particular case he wished to know why the man called Blake had
tried to hide himself in the clump of bushes beside the Upper Road when
the automobile load of boys had come along and caught him examining the
face of the Elmvale Dam through a field-glass.
It was through a break in the trees that partly masked the dam the man
had been looking, and Whistler knew that the spot in which he was
interested must be directly beside the overflow of the dam--where the
water splashed down into the rocky river bed.
Whistler did not lose interest in the attempt to inspire some of the
factory workers to enlist in the Navy, and he worked just as hard as his
mates all through the noon hour. But the puzzle connected with the man
named Blake continued to peck at his mind like an insistent chick trying
to get out of its shell.
Hans Hertig's desire to get some of his old friends to enlist bore some
fruit. Three men promised to go down to the enlistment bureau on
Saturday afternoon, when they had a half holiday.
The Seacove party then wanted to go to a dining-room for dinner; but
Whistler excused himself. He was hungry enough; but he "had other fish
to fry," he whispered to Torrance.
"Come around by the Upper Road--same way we got here," directed
Whistler. "I'll meet you at the bridge. Wait if I'm not there."
"What is the matter with you, Whistler?" demanded Al.
But although Morgan went away without making answer, he knew that his
chum would do as he was asked, and bluff off the others when they asked
questions, too.
Philip Morgan hurried past the factories and the few houses which lay in
this direction. The land near the dam which had been built across the
valley was so sterile that few people lived in this neighborhood.
Up on the ridges, on either side, were farms; but this was a wild piece
of scrub at the foot of the dam. One could jump a rabbit in it, or get
up a flock of quail at almost any time during the hunting season.
Like most boys of Seacove, as well as Elmvale, Whistler was familiar
with this stretch of untamed ground and plunged into it with full
knowledge of its tangled brier patches and rough quarries. He started
diagonally for the dam, and in a brief time came to the edge of the
shallow channel, which now carried the overflow of the huge reservoir
behind the dam down to the cove.
As he followed this stream, he could not help thinking of the
possibility of a break occurring in the high wall of masonry which
loomed ahead of him. If there should be any undiscovered weakness in the
wall! Or if an enemy should sink a charge of dynamite, or some other
high explosive, at the base of the dam and blow a hole through it!
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