Victor Appleton - The Moving Picture Boys on the War Front

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If what the boys had only guessed at were true--that one or both of the
men contemplated giving a signal to the enemy by means of the
flashlight--the time for it had not yet come.

"Well, I'll try my hand," Blake said. "You turn in, Mac, and if I need
any help I'll call you. If I don't see anything up to about one o'clock
I'll let Joe do his trick. Good-night and pleasant dreams."

Charlie did not answer. He was already in his bunk and asleep, for he
was tired, and the last half hour of his watch he had kept himself awake
with difficulty.

Then Blake began his turn of duty. He took a position at the door where
he could look out through the hole into the dimly lighted corridor. He
had a view of the doors of the staterooms of the two men who were under
suspicion, and as soon as either or both of them came out he intended to
follow and see what was done.

For an hour nothing happened, and Blake was beginning to feel a bit
sleepy, in spite of the fact that he had rested during the early part
of the evening, when he was startled by a slight sound. It was like the
creaking of a rusty hinge, and at first he thought it but one of the
many sounds always more or less audible on a moving ship.

Then, as he tuned his ears more acutely, he knew that it was the
squeaking of a hinge he had heard, and he felt sure it meant the opening
of a door near by.

Through the hole he looked at the door behind which was Levi Labenstein,
whether sleeping or preparing for some act which would put the ship in
peril and endanger the lives of all the passengers, could only be
guessed.

Then, as Blake watched, he saw the door open and the German come out.
Labenstein looked around with furtive glances, and they rested for some
little time on the door behind which Blake was watching. Then, as if
satisfied that all was quiet, the man stole silently along, the
corridor.

"Something doing," thought Blake. "Something doing, all right. He has
something in his hand--probably my flashlight. Much good may it do him!"

As Labenstein passed the stateroom where Lieutenant Secor was quartered,
that door opened softly, but not until the German was beyond it. And
then Blake saw the Frenchman peer out as though to make sure his
fellow-conspirator was fairly on his way. After that the lieutenant
himself emerged and softly followed the German.

"Both of 'em at it," mused Blake. "I'd better rouse Joe and let him keep
track of one, in case they should separate."

A touch on Joe Duncan's shoulder served to arouse him, though he was in
a deep sleep. He sat up, demanding:

"What is it? Are we torpedoed?"

"No, but we may be," was Blake's low answer. "Keep quiet and follow me.
Secor and Labenstein have both gone up on deck, I think. We'd better
follow."

"Shall we tell Charlie?" asked Joe, as he slid from his berth. Neither
he nor his chums had taken off their clothes.

"Yes, I guess we'd better get him up," Blake answered. "If you and I
have to watch these two fellows, we may need some one to send for help
in case anything happens. Come on, Macaroni," he added, leaning over
their helper and whispering in his ear. "Wake up!"

Charles was up in an instant, a bit confused at first, as one often is
when emerging from a heavy sleep, but he had his faculties with him
almost at once, and was ready for action.

"What is it?" he asked, in a whisper.

In like low tones Blake told him, and then the three boys, after making
sure by a cautious observation that neither of the suspected men was in
sight, went out into the corridor and to the deck.

It was quite dark, for all unnecessary lights were dimmed, but there was
a new moon, and the stars were bright, so that objects were fairly
clear. On either side could be dimly observed the black shapes of the
convoying destroyers.

"Where are they?" asked Joe, in a whisper. "The traitors!"

"I don't know--we'll have to look," was Blake's answer. They looked
along the deck, but saw no one, and were about to turn to the other end
of the craft when a figure stepped out from the shadow of a boat and
sharply challenged them.

"Who are you--what do you want?" was asked.

It was one of the ship's crew assigned to night-watch. Blake knew him
slightly, having, at the man's request one day, showed him something of
the workings of a moving picture camera.

"We came up looking for two gentlemen who have the staterooms opposite
ours," Blake answered, resolving to "take a chance" in the matter.
"Lieutenant Secor and Mr. Labenstein," he added. "Have you seen them?"

"Yes; they came up to get a bit of air, they said," answered the sailor.
"I saw them a little while ago. You will find them up near the bow. Do
not show a light, whatever you do, and light no matches. If you wish to
smoke you must go below."

"Thanks, we don't smoke," Joe answered, with a low laugh. "But we'll be
careful about lights."

"All right," answered the sailor. "We have to look out for submarines,
you know," he added. "This is the worst part of the danger zone."

The boys moved forward like silent shadows, peering here and there for a
sight of the two figures who had come up a little while before them,
with evil intentions in their hearts they had no doubt. Even now there
might be flashing across the dark sea, from some hidden vantage point on
the ship, a light signal that would mean the launching of the deadly
torpedo.

"There's no doubt, now, but the Frenchman is a traitor," whispered Joe
to Blake. "I have been positive about that German being a spy ever since
I've seen him, but I did have some doubts regarding Secor. I haven't any
now."

"It does look bad," admitted Blake.

"I wish I'd smashed him with my auto, instead of waiting for him to
smash me," remarked Charlie. "He's a snake, that's what he is!"

"Hush!" cautioned Blake. "They may be around here--any place--and hear
you. I wish we could see them."

They moved along silently, looking on every side for a sight of the two
conspirators, but there were so many shadows, and so many places where
the men might lurk, that it was difficult to place them. The sailor,
evidently, had had no suspicions, thinking that Blake and his chums had
merely come up to be with the two men.

"What are you going to do when you do see them?" asked Joe of his chum.

"I don't know," was the whispered answer. "First, we've got to see them,
then we can tell what to do. But where in the world are they?"

Somewhat at a loss what to do, the boys paused in the shadow of a
deckhouse. They were about to emerge from its dim protection when
Charlie plucked at Blake's sleeve.

"Well?" asked the moving picture boy, in a low voice. "What is it?"

"Look right straight into the bow, as far as you can see," directed
Macaroni. "Notice those two moving shadows?"

"Yes," answered Blake.

"I think that's our men," went on Charlie.

"Yes, there they are," added Joe.

It was evident, after a moment's glance, that the two men who had so
silently stolen from their rooms were together in the bow of the
steamer, or as far up in the bow as they could get. The deck was open
at this point, and, leaning over the side, it would be easy to flash a
signal on either beam. The lookout on the bridge was probably too much
occupied in sweeping the sea ahead and to either side of the ship to
direct his attention to the vessel itself.

"Come on," whispered Blake to the other two. "We want to hear what they
are saying if we can, and see what they're doing."

Silently the boys stole forward until they could make out the dim
figures more clearly. There was no doubt that they were those of Secor
and Labenstein. And then, as the boys paused, fearing to get so close as
to court discovery, they saw a little light flash.

Three times up and down on the port side of the bows went a little flash
of light, and then it suddenly went out.

"My electric light," whispered Blake in Joe's ear.

"But I thought you said it would burn out!"

"I hope it has. I think----"

From one of the figures in the bow came a guttural exclamation:

"The infernal light has gone out!"

"So?" came from the other.

"Yes. It must be broken. Let me have yours, Herr Lieutenant. I have not
given the signal in completeness, and----"

"I left my light in the stateroom. I'll go and----"

But the lieutenant never finished that sentence. Across the dark and
silent ocean came a dull report--an explosion that seemed to make the
_Jeanne_ tremble. And then the sky and the water was lighted by the
flashing beams of powerful lights.

"What was that?" gasped Joe, while from the crouching figures in the bow
came exclamations of dismay. "Are we torpedoed?"

"I fancy not," answered Blake. "Sounded more like one of the destroyers
made a hit herself. I think they set off a depth charge against a
submarine. We'll soon know! Look at the lights now!"

The sea was agleam with brilliant radiance.

CHAPTER XII

IN ENGLAND

From the bridge came commands to the lookouts stationed in various parts
of the French steamer. Orders flashed to the engine room, and the vessel
lost way and floated under her momentum. As yet she was shrouded in
darkness, the only lights glowing being those actually required to
enable persons to see their way about. Below, of course, as long as the
incandescents were shaded, they could be turned on, and many passengers,
awakened by the concussion and the following sounds, illuminated their
staterooms.

The lights that gleamed across the billows came from the convoying
destroyers, and signals flashed from one to the other, though the
meaning of them the moving picture boys could only guess at.

Immediately following the explosion, which seemed to come from the side
of the _Jeanne_ where Labenstein had flashed his signal, the German and
the Frenchman had subsided into silence. Each one had given voice to an
exclamation in his own tongue and then had hurried away.

And so occupied were Blake and his chums with what had gone on out there
on the ocean--trying to guess what had happened--that they did not
notice the departure of the two men.

"What's that you said it was?" asked Joe of his partner. "I mean the
explosion."

"I think it was a depth charge," answered Blake. "One of the destroyers
must have sighted a submarine and let go a bomb, with a heavy charge of
explosive, which didn't go off until after it got to a certain depth
below the surface. That's the new way of dealing with submarines, you
know."

"I only hope they got this one, with a depth charge or any other way,"
remarked Charles Anderson. "Look, we're lighting up! I guess the danger
must be over."

Lights were flashing on the deck of the _Jeanne_, and signals came from
the destroyers. It was evident that messages were being sent to and fro.

And then, as passengers crowded up from their staterooms, some in a
state of panic fearing a torpedo had been launched at the ship, another
muffled explosion was heard, and in the glare of the searchlights from
one of the convoying ships a column of water could be seen spurting up
between the French steamer and the war vessel.

"That's caused by a depth charge," Blake announced. "They must be making
sure of the submarine."

"If they haven't, we're a good target for her now," said Joe, as he
noted the lights agleam on their steamer. "They're taking an awful
chance, it seems to me."

"I guess the captain knows what he's doing," stated Blake. "He must have
been signaled from the destroyers. We'll try to find out."

An officer went about among the passengers, calming them and telling
them there was no danger now.

"But what happened?" asked Blake, and he and his chums waited eagerly
for an answer.

"It was a submarine," was the officer's reply. "She came to attack us,
trying to slip around or between our convoying ships. But one of the
lookouts sighted her and depth charges were fired. The submarine came
up, disabled, it seemed, but to make sure another charge was exploded
beneath the surface. And that was the end of the Hun!" he cried.

"Good!" exclaimed Blake, and his chums also rejoiced. There was
rejoicing, too, among the other passengers, for they had escaped death
by almost as narrow a margin as before. Only the sharp lookout kept had
saved them--that and the depth charge.

"But how does that depth charge work?" asked Charlie Anderson, when the
chums were back in their cabin again, discussing what they had better do
in reference to telling the captain of the conduct of Labenstein and
Secor.

"It works on the principle that water is incompressible in any and all
directions," answered Blake. "That is, pressure exerted on a body of
water is transmitted in all directions by the water. Thus, if you push
suddenly on top of a column of water the water rises.

"And if you set off an explosive below the surface of water the force
goes up, down sidewise and in all directions. In fact, if you explode
gun-cotton near a vessel below the surface it does more damage than if
set off nearer to her but on the surface. The water transmits the power.

"A depth charge is a bomb timed to go off at a certain depth. If it
explodes anywhere near a submarine, it blows in her plates and she is
done for. That's what happened this time, I imagine."

And that is exactly what had happened, as nearly as could be told by the
observers on the destroyer. The submarine had risen, only to sink
disabled with all on board. A few pieces of wreckage and a quantity of
oil floated to the surface but that was all.

Once more the _Jeanne_ resumed her way in the midst of the protecting
convoys, the value of which had been amply demonstrated. And when all
was once more quiet on board, Blake and his chums resumed their talk
about what was best to do regarding what they had observed just before
the setting off of the depth charge.

"I think we ought to tell the captain," said Charlie.

"So do I," added Joe.

"And I agree with the majority," said Blake. "Captain Merceau shall be
informed."

The commander was greatly astonished when told what the boys had seen.
He questioned them at length, and made sure there could have been no
mistake.

"And they gave a signal," mused the captain. "It hardly seems possible!"

"It was Labenstein who actually flashed the light," said Blake. "Do you
know anything about him, Captain Merceau?"

"Nothing more than that his papers, passport, and so on are in proper
shape. He is a citizen of your own country, and appeared to be all
right, or he would not have been permitted to take passage with us. I am
astounded!"

"What about the Frenchman?" asked Joe.

"Him I know," declared the captain. "Not well, but enough to say that I
would have ventured everything on his honor. It does not seem possible
that he can be a traitor!"

"And yet we saw him with the German while Labenstein was signaling the
submarine," added Blake.

"Yes, I suppose it must be so. I am sorry! It is a blot on the fair name
of France that one of her sons should so act! But we must be careful. It
is not absolute proof, yet. They could claim that they were only on deck
to smoke, or something like that. To insure punishment, we must have
absolute proof. I thank you young gentlemen. From now on these two shall
be under strict surveillance, and when we reach England I shall inform
the authorities. You have done your duty. I will now be responsible for
these men."

"That relieves us," said Blake. "We shan't stay in England long
ourselves, so if you want our testimony you'd better arrange to have it
taken soon after we land."

"I shall; and thank you! This is terrible!"

The boys realized that, as the captain had said, adequate proof would be
required to cause the arrest and conviction of the two plotters. While
it was morally certain that they had tried to bring about the successful
attack on the French steamer, a court would want undisputed evidence to
pronounce sentence, whether of death or imprisonment.

"I guess we'll have to leave it with the captain," decided Blake. "We
can tell of his borrowing the light, and that we saw him flash it. Of
course he can say we saw only his lighted cigarette, or something like
that, and where would we be?"

"But there was the signal with the white cloth," added Joe.

"Yes, we could tell that, too; but it isn't positive."

"And there was Secor's running into me and spoiling our other films,"
said Charlie.

"That, too, would hardly be enough," went on Blake. "What the
authorities will have to do will be to search the baggage of these
fellows, and see if there is anything incriminating among their papers.
We can't do that, so we'll have to wait."

And wait they did. In spite of what Captain Merceau had said, the boys
did not relax their vigilance, but though, to their minds, the two men
acted suspiciously, there was nothing definite that could be fastened on
them.

Watchful guard was maintained night and day against an attack by
submarines, and though there were several alarms, they turned out to be
false. And in due season, the vessel arrived at "an English port," as
the papers stated.

"Let's go and see if Captain Merceau wants us to give any evidence
against those fellows," suggested Joe; and this seemed a good plan to
follow.

"Ah, yes, my American friends!" the commander murmured, as the boys were
shown into his cabin. "What can I do for you?"

"We thought we'd see if you wanted us in relation to the arrest of Secor
and Labenstein," answered Blake.

"Ah, yes! The two men who signaled the submarine. I have had them under
surveillance ever since you made your most startling disclosures. I sent
a wireless to the war authorities here to come and place them under
arrest as soon as the vessel docked. I have no doubt they are in custody
now. I'll send and see."

He dispatched a messenger who, when he returned, held a rapid
conversation with the captain in French. It was evident that something
unusual had taken place.

The captain grew more excited, and finally, turning to the boys, said in
English, which he spoke fluently:

"I regret to tell you there has been a mistake."

"A mistake!" cried Blake.

"Yes. Owing to some error, those men were released before the war
authorities could apprehend them. They have gone ashore!"

CHAPTER XIII

UNDER SUSPICION

Blake, Joe and Charles looked at one another. Then they glanced at
Captain Merceau. For one wild moment Blake had it in mind to suspect the
commander; but a look at his face, which showed plainly how deeply
chagrined he was at the failure to keep the two under surveillance, told
the young moving picture operator that there was no ground for his
thought.

"They got away!" repeated Joe, as though he could hardly believe it.

"Yes, I regret to say that is what my officer reports to me. It is too
bad; but I will at once send out word, and they may be traced and
apprehended. I'll at once send word to the authorities." This he did by
the same messenger who had brought the intelligence that the Frenchman
and the German had secretly left.

When this had been done, and the boys had got themselves ready to go
ashore and report, Captain Merceau told them how it had happened. He
had given orders, following the report made by Blake and his chums, that
Secor and Labenstein should be kept under careful watch. And this was to
be done without allowing them to become aware of it.

"However, I very much doubt if this was the case," the captain frankly
admitted. "They are such scoundrels themselves that they would naturally
suspect others of suspecting them. So they must have become aware of our
plans, and then they made arrangements to elude the guard I set over
them."

"How did they do that?" asked Blake.

"By a trick. One of them pretended to be ill and asked that the surgeon
be summoned. This was the German. And when the guard hurried away on
what he supposed was an errand of mercy, the two rascals slipped away.
They were soon lost in the crowd. But we shall have them back, have no
fear, young gentlemen."

But, all the same, Blake and his chums had grave doubts as to the
ability of the authorities to capture the two men. Not that they had any
fears for themselves, for, as Joe said, they had nothing to apprehend
personally from the men.

"Unless they are after the new films we take," suggested Charles.

"Why should they want them?" asked Blake. "I mean, our films are not
likely to give away any vital secrets," he went on.

"Well, I don't know," answered the lanky helper, "but I have a sort of
hunch that they'll do all they can and everything they can to spoil our
work for Uncle Sam on this side of the water, as they did before."

"Secor spoiled the films before," urged Blake. "He didn't know
Labenstein then, as far as we know."

"Well, he knows him now," said Charles. "I'm going to be on the watch."

"I guess the authorities will be as anxious to catch those fellows as we
are to have them," resumed Blake. "Putting a ship in danger of an attack
from a submarine, as was undoubtedly done when Labenstein waved my
flashlight, isn't a matter to be lightly passed over."

And the authorities took the same view. Soon after Captain Merceau had
sent his report of the occurrence to London to the officials of the
English war office, the boys were summoned before one of the officers
directing the Secret Service and were closely questioned. They were
asked to tell all they knew of the man calling himself Lieutenant Secor
and the one who was on the passenger list as Levi Labenstein. This they
did, relating everything from Charlie's accident with the Frenchman to
the destruction of the submarine by the depth charge just after
Labenstein had flashed his signal, assuming that this was what he had
done.

"Very well, young gentlemen, I am exceedingly obliged to you," said the
English officer. "The matter will be taken care of promptly and these
men may be arrested. In that case, we shall want your evidence, so
perhaps you had better let me know a little more about yourselves. I
presume you have passports and the regulation papers?" and he smiled;
but, as Blake said afterward, it was not exactly a trusting smile.

"He looked as if he'd like to catch us napping," Blake said.

However, the papers of the moving picture boys were in proper shape. But
they were carefully examined, and during the process, when Joe,
addressing Charles Anderson, spoke to him as "Macaroni," the officer
looked up quickly.

"I thought his name was Charles," he remarked, as he referred to the
papers.

"Certainly. But we call him 'Macaroni' sometimes because he looks like
it--especially his legs," Joe explained.

"His legs macaroni?" questioned the English officer, regarding the three
chums over the tops of his glasses. "Do you mean--er--that his legs are
so easily broken--as macaroni is broken?"

"No, not that. It's because they're so thin," Joe added.

Still the officer did not seem to comprehend.

"It's a joke," added Blake.

Then the Englishman's face lit up.

"Oh, a joke!" he exclaimed. "Why didn't you say so at first? Now I
comprehend. A joke! Oh, that's different! His legs are like macaroni, so
you call him spaghetti! I see! Very good! Very good!" and he laughed in
a ponderous way.

"At the same time," he went on, "I think I shall make a note of it. I
will just jot it down on the margin of his papers, that he is called
'Macaroni' as a joke. Some other officer might not see the point," he
added. "I'm quite fond of a joke myself! This is a very good one. I
shall make a note of it." And this he proceeded to do in due form.

"Well, if that isn't the limit!" murmured Joe, when the officer, having
returned their papers to them, sent them to another department to get
the necessary passes by which they could claim their baggage and make
application to go to the front.

"It's a good thing this officer had a sense of humor," remarked Blake,
half sarcastically, "or we might have had to send back for a special
passport for one stick of macaroni."

If Blake and his chums had an idea they would at once be permitted to
depart for "somewhere in France" and begin the work of taking moving
pictures of Uncle Sam's boys in training and in the trenches, they were
very soon disillusioned. It was one thing to land in England during war
times, but it was another matter to get out, especially when they were
not English subjects.

It is true that Mr. Hadley had made arrangements for the films to be
made, and they were to be taken for and under the auspices of the United
States War Department.

But England has many institutions, and those connected with war are
bound up in much red tape, in which they are not unlike our own, in some
respects.

The applications of Blake and his chums to depart for the United States
base in France were duly received and attached to the application
already made by Mr. Hadley and approved by the American commanding
officer.

"And what happens next?" asked Blake, when they had filled out a number
of forms in the English War Office. "I mean, where do we go from here?"

"Ah, that's one of your songs, isn't it?" asked an English officer, one
who looked as though he could understand a joke better than could the
one to whom macaroni so appealed.

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