The Battleship Boys at Sea; Or, Two Apprentices in Uncle Sam's Navy

CHAPTER XXIII—HEROES TO THE RESCUE

“Stand by to pick them up!” roared the ensign.

“They’ll never make it. Shall we go over, sir, and help them out when they come up?” asked a seaman.

“Stand by! Not a man of you goes over. You couldn’t live in this sea. The fools—to do a thing like that!”

The wind had increased to a gale, great walls of water hurling themselves against the frail craft and breaking over them in quick succession.

“Bail boat,” commanded the ensign.

“Aye, aye, sir.”

It seemed as if every moment would be the last for the small boats, but not a man showed the least trace of excitement, either in face or voice.

“Anchor’s giving way, sir.”

“Stand by the oars. Hold your bow to the wind. Keep them up, lads. And not a signalman on board to tell the ship we are in trouble!” the officer muttered to himself.

Off on the battleship, however, a dozen glasses were leveled in their direction and as many keen eyes were gazing toward them over the troubled sea.

“Small boat appears to be in trouble, sir,” called the quartermaster, who, standing on the quarter-deck of the battleship, was bracing his glass against a stanchion. The ship’s lookouts had failed to catch Dan Davis’s quick signal of “accident.”

“Have they asked for assistance?” questioned the executive officer.

“No, sir. I have seen no signals in some time.”

“Not since the diver went overboard?”

“Not since they made signal that the mine had been located.”

“What do you think about it, Coates?” asked the captain, peering through his own glasses, now and then catching a glimpse of the boats through the mist of white spray that enveloped them.

“Two men missing from the wherry, sir,” called the quartermaster, with no trace of excitement.

“Steamer number one!” roared Lieutenant Commander Coates, the executive officer.

“Aye, aye, sir,” came the answer, borne faintly on the gale.

“Cast off and proceed full speed to the assistance of boats on the mine field.”

The steamer’s crew needed no urging to leap to their work. Some of their comrades were in distress. Lines were cast off, boat hooks were quickly thrust against the side of the ship to prevent the little steamer from being dashed to pieces against it.

“All clear!”

With a shrill blast of her whistle steamer number one rounded the ship’s bow in a cloud of blinding spray and headed for the mine field. The officer in charge had been given the number of the mine, and the bearings, as he started away, so that by the aid of the compass he was enabled to direct a straight course to the scene of the trouble.

It seemed as if the staunch little steamer must turn over as she plunged along through the seas that were smiting her with increased force every moment.

In the meantime the men in the little boats on the mine field, were fighting desperately to keep their craft near the spot where two men had gone down to battle for the life of a third down under the sea.

The Battleship Boys were splendid swimmers else they never would have been able to wriggle their way through the water to the bottom. Dan was somewhat hampered too, by the coil of line that he had instinctively gathered in his hand as he prepared to leap from the boat.

By rare good luck, his hands gripped the helmet of Kester, who lay on his back drifting slowly along, the weight at his feet holding him down not far from the sea bottom.

Dan made a desperate effort to pass the line about the drowning man. By this time, however, it seemed as if the boy’s breath would burst from him. He could hold it only a second or so longer.

At that instant a new form hovered close to him. It was the red-haired Sam. With quick instinct Dan thrust the rope into the hands of his companion, and struck out for the surface.

Those in the boats made him out the instant his head was poked above the water. The boats were close by.

“There he is!” yelled a voice. “Wait; we’ll cast a rope.”

Dan shook his head, once more plunging under, swimming for the bottom with long, powerful strokes.

He had great difficulty this time in finding the spot he was in search of, for in his rise to the surface he had been carried some twenty feet from the place where Kester lay.

He reached it at last. Sam had gotten the rope about the neck of the diver but was too much exhausted to make a hitch.

Dan pushed him toward the surface. Working desperately Davis at last succeeded in completing the work that Sam had well-nigh finished.

The boy’s mind was working with lightning-like rapidity. He knew that he could not hope to get the drowning man to the surface by his own efforts. There was only one way that this could possibly be accomplished. That was to get to the surface himself and try to draw Kester up. Dan did not know whether the rope would reach that distance or not.

“I must do it!” he thought.

Grasping the end of the rope he dashed upward for the surface. On the way he met a figure coming down. It was Sam. Dan grabbed him and by a series of quick pinches managed to convey the word that the red-headed boy was to return to the surface.

Sam wriggled about and struck out for the upper air.

Hickey’s red head appeared in a swirl of water and spray. He shook his head, gasping for breath, nearly drowning himself in the effort to get even a little fresh air into his lungs.

An instant later Dan leaped to the surface.

Dan gave a wig-wag signal with one hand, meaning “help.”

By this time the small boats had drifted too far away to be able to reach them quickly.

But steamer number one had reached the scene. She gave a short, sharp blast of her whistle to show that those aboard had seen and understood the situation.

“Is he lost?” gasped Sam.

“N-n-no. I’ve got him at the end of the rope. Help me quick. He must be dead by this time. There comes the steamer. Oh, why don’t they hurry?”

“Where is the rope?”

“Here! Help me with it. I’m getting tired.”

Dan was holding to the rope with all his strength, trying to retain his hold of it and at the same time keep himself from sinking. Some invisible power seemed to be pulling him downward.

The ensign and his oarsman had gotten aboard the steamer, trailing their wherry behind it. The ensign was standing in the bow with a rope in his hand.

As the steamer, lifting on a great swell, dropped down within reaching distance he made a cast. Dan reached for the rope and missed it.

“Lay alongside, sir,” commanded Dan, with a feeble effort at saluting with his injured hand.

“Can’t do it. We will run you down in this sea. Look out for the next cast.”

“You’ll have to hurry, sir. We’ve got a drowning man under the water here, sir. Lay over, no matter if you do run us down. Quick!”

A sudden, but quickly suppressed exclamation escaped the ensign.

“Take hold; I’m going to let go,” gasped Dan.

Sam grabbed the rope from the hands of his companion, but Dan suddenly snatched it away again, observing that his companion was getting weak.

“Can you take care of yourself?”

“Yes,” replied Sam faintly.

The next time the line was cast from the steamer, Davis grabbed it, and with his burden was quickly hauled alongside the plunging steamer. Willing hands grabbed the lad, dragging him aboard and then began a frantic effort to pull up the drowning diver. Kester was hauled over the steamer’s side a few seconds later.

The helmet was jerked from the head of the diver in wonderfully quick time, and then began a hurried effort to restore him to consciousness.

“Sam! Sam! Where is Sam?” cried Dan wildly.

For the first time they noticed that the red-headed boy was not on board.

“There! There! He’s sinking!”

Dan made a rush to leap overboard.

“Hold him!” cried the ensign.

Two sailors fastened upon the Battleship Boy at the instant he was about to take the plunge.

“Keep working on Kester, and don’t let the boy get away. I hold you responsible for him.”

The ensign cleared the rail with a bound, leaping far out into the boiling sea, but Dan had not observed it. Giving a sudden tug, the boy freed himself from his companions. He was overboard in a twinkling. A boathook hauled him back, protesting and fighting to get away.

“The ensign is over. No need for you to go.”

It was the same ensign who had rebuked Sam earlier in the day, and against whom the lad had taken a sudden and violent dislike on that account.

“Full speed ahead,” commanded the coxswain of the little steamer.

“Steady there, helmsman; don’t run them down.”

A desperate struggle followed amid the smashing seas. By this time the steamer was hard by.

“Cast a rope,” commanded the coxswain. A coil shot through the air, landing over the ensign’s shoulder. He fastened upon it instantly, and a few moments later was drawn slowly to the steamer, one hand clinging to Hickey’s red hair. The two men were hauled aboard in a half-drowned condition. Dan was the worst off of the three, however. He was not only suffering from broken bones but he had been under water for a long time. He was barely able to speak now. His face was pale and drawn and his legs seemed unable to support him.

The first act of the ensign upon getting aboard, was to spring over to where Kester lay stretched out in the bottom of the steamer, the men still working over him, applying the methods that they had learned at the training station. Some of the men had been through the experience before and knew what to do.

“Is he dead?” questioned the officer.

“No, sir, I think not. See, the color is coming into his cheeks.”

The ensign drew a deep breath of relief.

“Gangway! Let me have a hand, lads,” he cried.

But the men stood fast.

“You are not fit for it, sir,” answered Dan Davis, barring the way. “Please, sir, sit down and rest yourself. We are fresh and you are not.”

“You are——”

The words seemed to stick in the ensign’s mouth.

“My lad, I think you have quite as much right to rest as have I. Stand aside,” he added in a stern tone.

Dan fell back. The officer began working over the body of the diver, bringing his longer experience into play. In a very short time Kester was coughing and choking. It appeared almost as if he were strangling.

“Shall we get under way, sir?” questioned the coxswain.

“Are we all here?”

“Yes, sir. The other boats are tied astern, their crews on board.”

“Get under way as quickly as possible. Run as fast as you dare. These men need the attention of the surgeon.”

“Aye, aye, sir. Full speed ahead!”

The steamer plunged away headed for the battleship. But still the ensign and his men worked over the diver. Little by little he regained consciousness. He was too weak to do more than glance about at them slowly, then his eyes closed wearily.

“We’ll save him,” muttered the officer. “We must save him.”

“Catch Davis,” shouted a voice.

A Jackie caught the boy just in time to prevent Dan from going overboard. They hauled him back with a laughing remark. Dan wavered on his feet for a few seconds then plunged heavily forward on his face.

“He’s fainted, sir.”

“Let him alone. We shall be aboard ship in a few moments. He will recover by that time.”

Soon after that the little steamer ran in under the lee of the battleship. The rail was lined with officers and men.

“Anyone lost?” called the executive officer.

“No, sir; got them all. Two men in bad shape. Pass over a sling.”

Sam was kneeling beside his unconscious companion a troubled look on his face.

Almost at once a rope sling was passed over the side. The men reached for the unconscious boy. Sam motioned to the diver.

“Take him first,” directed the lad. “He is the worst off.”

Bill Kester, therefore, was hoisted to the deck; then came Dan Davis. Tenderly they laid him on the deck. Stretchers were brought and the patients were started quickly for the sick bay.

“Ensign, what happened?” demanded the captain.

“Briefly, sir, those two lads made the most heroic rescue that I ever either saw or heard of. Especial credit is due to Ordinary Seaman Davis for his wonderful and heroic efforts.”

The young officer related all that had occurred out on the mine field, to which the commanding officer together with a group of other ship officers listened with grave faces.

“Orderly.”

The captain’s voice was full of decision.

“Go to the sick bay. Run! Tell the surgeon to send the boy to my cabin.”

“Davis, sir?”

“Yes, and, Ord’ly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell the surgeon I wish the boy to be put in my bed. Tell the surgeon to report to me as soon as he has examined the boy.”

CHAPTER XXIV—CONCLUSION

“Never in my experience have I known of such unselfish heroism as those two lads have shown to-day. Kester is the man with whom young Davis and Hickey had difficulties, is he not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And to-day the boys save his life. By the way, surgeon, how did the lad break his wrist in the first place?”

“I believe it was through a fall from his hammock.”

“I looked into that matter, sir,” spoke up the executive officer. “I learn that Davis’s hammock lashings had been cut during the night, or some time earlier. At least he did not observe the fact and got his tumble after he had been asleep several hours.”

“Find the man who did that. He shall be dismissed from the service instantly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What is the boy’s temperature?”

“One hundred and four,” answered the surgeon.

“You have a nurse with him?”

“Yes, sir.”

“See that nothing is omitted that will make for his comfort. Mr. Coates, you see to it that the affidavits of the witnesses to that heroic rescue, are taken at once. Have them ready for my signature at the earliest possible moment as I wish to forward them to Washington no later than to-morrow morning, with especial recommendation for Ordinary Seaman Davis.”

“Ordinary Seaman Hickey requests permission to sit with the man Davis, sir,” announced a messenger.

“Permit Ordinary Seaman Hickey to do whatever he wishes on this ship so long as his requests are not in violation of regulations,” replied the captain, with emphasis. “There is a divan in my bedroom that he can sleep on. Keep me informed, doctor, on the lad’s condition.”

“Very good, sir.”

“Is Kester in a serious condition?”

“I think not. He should be around in a few days at the most. He is too tough to be downed thus easily.”

“Davis downed him the other night,” laughed the executive officer.

For two days Dan Davis raged in delirium; then on the morning of the third day, as the ship was riding easily at anchor, the sun peeping through the portholes of the cabin, the Battleship Boy opened his eyes. He gazed about him wonderingly.

“What place is this?” he asked.

“This is the captain’s cabin.”

“Am I the captain?”

“No, but you have been very ill,” the nurse informed him. “Lie still and keep quiet.”

Dan closed his eyes blissfully. Such luxury as that with which he was surrounded exceeded his fondest dreams.

From that moment, Dan improved rapidly. He was able to be up and dressed on the fourth day, and in another twenty-four hours he was on deck, where he was provided with a chair near the stern of the quarter-deck. Sam took great pleasure in winking at his shipmates when they passed him, he having remained with Dan constantly. Sam was enjoying himself hugely.

One morning, soon after, Dan reported that he felt fit for duty, and asked to be permitted to return to his post. Sam advised him not to do so, but in this Dan persisted. However, he did not return to his post that day, nor for several days thereafter.

That afternoon a muster was called on the quarter-deck. The Battleship Boys were surprised when informed that their presence was required on deck. Upon arriving there, they were lined up in front of the captain and executive officer, as if they were to be sentenced after a court-martial. On each side of them stood their shipmates, erect, shoulders thrown well back, each brown face reflecting a poorly-disguised smile.

“Daniel Davis and Samuel Hickey step three paces to the front,” commanded the executive officer.

They did so, wonderingly.

The ship’s commander stepped out before them.

“I have here,” he began, “a communication from the Secretary of the Navy, which I will read. It is as follows:

“‘It is hereby ordered that Ordinary Seaman Daniel Davis and Ordinary Seaman Samuel Hickey, at present assigned to the battleship ‘Long Island,’ do present themselves at the executive mansion in Washington, on the morning of July twenty-ninth, at eleven o’clock. It is desired to show proper recognition for their joint deed of heroism in rescuing, from three fathoms of water, the ship’s diver, William Kester. The President is desirous of seeing these young men in person. It will be his pleasure to express to them the gratitude of the government for their splendid achievement. The men will report in blue dress.’”

The Battleship Boys, even now, did not fully understand what was expected of them, but they were proud in the thought that they had done something to merit the praise of their superior officers.

“You will be put ashore at three o’clock this afternoon, men. You will take a night train to Washington and report in accordance with the instructions as contained in the order just read. Your shipmates should be proud of you. You have given all of us a lesson in self-sacrificing patriotism that we shall do well to bear in mind. Beside your undaunted bravery, you showed rare judgment and coolness. These are more valuable than bravery alone because they direct bravery. Especially do I wish to commend you, Davis, for your splendid heroism in rescuing your shipmate.”

The captain came to attention, saluted the two boys before him, then to the measured beat of the drum, sailors and marines marched from the quarter-deck, leaving the two lads standing before their officers. The jackies looked as if they would like to cheer the boys, but discipline would not permit.

“My lads, you had better go to your quarters and prepare for your journey. Ord’ly, tell the master-at-arms to see that these lads have a warm meal before they leave the ship this afternoon. Davis and Hickey, no duties will be required of you to-day, save to prepare for your journey. Carry on.”

Saluting their commander, the Battleship Boys executed a right about face and marched from the deck.

“It begins to look as if we were the people,” Sam confided to his companion, with a wink after they had left the quarter-deck behind them.

“Two of the people, that’s all, Sam,” corrected Dan. “You and I are just two boys who are serving the people under the Stars and Stripes. Let’s not forget that.”

Reaching their quarters they were met by a shipmate with a message.

“Bill Kester wants to see you and the red-head,” he said.

“Is he in the sick bay?” asked Dan

“Yes.”

“I wonder what he wants,” mused Dan, as they started away.

“Maybe he wants to fight us both, now, because we pulled him out of the brine,” laughed Sam Hickey.

Kester had not improved as rapidly as had been expected. They found him on a cot in the sick bay, pale and weak from his terrible experience.

“Hello, Bill,” greeted Sam, with a grin. “How are you feeling to-day?”

“Tolerable, shipmates. Dynie, you licked me didn’t you?” he demanded after a pause, using the nickname that the men had bestowed upon Dan.

“I’m sorry,” muttered Dan.

“I got what I deserved, I did. But I didn’t know I had. I swore I’d get even with you. I said you and me couldn’t stay on the same ship.”

“Never mind, that’s all right,” murmured Dan, at a loss what to say.

“It ain’t all right. I’ve got something I want to say to you. Dynamite, I cut them hammock lashings.”

Kester waited to let his words sink in, but neither boy made any reply. So the man went on:

“I was mad, crazy mad. I’d have laughed for joy if I could have seen you both sewn up in rolls of canvas and dumped overboard with a flag draped over the sacks. You’ll report me, I know. They are trying to find out who did it. Report me. I deserve all I’ll get.”

“You are mistaken, Bill, we are not going to report you,” answered Dan firmly.

“You ain’t going to report me?”

“Certainly not.”

“Then maybe red-head here would like to give me a wallop on the jaw to even things up.”

“No.”

“No? What then?”

“We are going to shake hands with you, Bill,” replied Dan. Each boy extended an impulsive hand. Bill took the hands, gazing keenly into the bronzed faces as he did so.

“I’ve heard all about it,” he muttered. “Yes, I’ve heard all about it. They told me to-day, and—and——”

Bill Kester, once the bully of the “Long Island” buried his face in the pillow. There was a convulsive upheaval of his shoulders, and the lads caught what sounded to them like a sob.

“Forget it, Bill,” said Sam awkwardly.

“Yes,” added Dan; “we didn’t do a thing for you that you would not have done for either or both of us, old shipmate. Good-bye, until we see you a few days from now.”

They stole from the room, leaving Bill Kester to a refreshing sleep, which his relieved conscience permitted him to take.

“I’d have blubbered if I had stayed there another minute,” muttered Sam Hickey.

On the following morning two brown-faced boys, clad in the blue service uniform of the United States Navy—one with a bandaged hand—made their way up Pennsylvania Avenue and were promptly admitted to the White House. They were conducted to the East Room, where were assembled a number of Navy and Army officers, together with a few other invited guests.

The President entered soon after. He made straight for the lads with a quick, nervous walk, grasping the hands of the Battleship Boys impulsively. The others in the room now ranged themselves behind the President.

“My lads,” began the Chief Executive, without loss of time, “I am proud to take you by the hand. The country too, has reason to be proud of young men like you. You have shown the true American spirit. Your signal bravery and heroic acts should, and will, challenge the admiration of every one of your countrymen. The testimony of your officers and of your associates, who saw your battle for life in your efforts to rescue a shipmate, leave no question as to your right to be rewarded by the government. A special mention is made of you, Davis, to which I add another of my own. You, though suffering from broken bones, ill enough to occupy a place in the sick bay of your ship, went to the rescue of a drowning comrade. My lads, it gives me more pleasure than I can express, to have the privilege of presenting to each of you a medal of honor, the most highly prized decoration at the disposal of a grateful republic. That you will wear these medals with credit there can be no doubt.”

Stepping forward, the President pinned, on the breast of each lad, the badge that would for all time mark them out from most of their fellows.

“The government,” continued the President, resuming his former position, “has provided a further reward in cases such as yours. To each of you I present on behalf of the government, a purse containing one hundred dollars in gold.”

The eyes of the Battleship Boys were swimming, and Sam Hickey’s red hair appeared to stand up straighter than ever. A warm, cordial pressure of the hands of the lads by the President completed the ceremony, after which, each of the guests stepped forward for a hand shake and a word of congratulation for the brave boys.

Fairly dazed because of these wonderful things that had come to them, the boys muttered their thanks and made their way from the White House as quickly thereafter as was possible. They were unusually silent as they hurried from the grounds, wearing their shining gold badges. Their hearts were too full for words, and each made a mental resolve that he would serve his country and his Flag from that moment on with a devotion which should never fade.

The achievements of the Battleship Boys were not yet at an end. There were other things ahead of them, far more alluring than any they had known—thrilling experiences in strange lands and among strange peoples, and best of all, promotion in their chosen profession.

In a following volume entitled, “The Battleship Boys’ First Step Upward; Or, Winning Their Grades as Petty Officers,” the story of their further exciting adventures on board a United States man-o’-war will be told, and this will show more of the fascination and the charm that ever surround the roving life of the jackie in Uncle Sam’s Service.

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