Two Boys of the Battleship; Or, For the Honor of Uncle Sam

CHAPTER XII—THE CUT ROPES

To describe her in detail would take up more space than is at our disposal. But most boys have either seen big battleships, or cruisers, or have looked at photographs of them, so have an idea of what they look like. But something larger and more formidable than anything before constructed to deal death and destruction from the sea will have to be imagined.

She had more big guns, and more small quick-firers than any vessel afloat, and as an innovation, her largest calibred rifles, forward and aft, were fifteen inches in diameter, the limit, up to then, having been fourteen inches. An inch may not seem much, but add it to the diameter of a big rifle, and it means that the gun must be very much larger and stronger in proportion, that it needs more powder to send the projectile on its way, and that the projectile is also greatly increased in weight and explosive power.

So it is no wonder our heroes were filled with astonishment and amazement as they gazed about them, once they were on board the craft that was to be their floating home for some time.

“Attention there now!” called a sharp voice, and an officer formed the new recruits in line, and marched them to the quarters where they were to stow their bags and sling their hammocks. Frank, Ned and the others had brought with them their belongings from Norfolk, and these were soon stowed away, in proper ship-shape fashion.

Here was where the long and careful training showed. In spite of the fact that it was their first appearance on the Georgetown, the recruits knew just what to do, and where to put their things.

Of course, ships differ, and some are more comfortable as living places than others, but the same general arrangement prevails on all of the United States battleships.

“When do we sail?” asked Frank of a sailor who had said he had been on the Georgetown since she had been put in commission.

“In a few days now. We’re just waiting for the old man.”

“Old man?” queried Ned.

“The captain,” the sailor explained. “He’s away on shore leave. His daughter got married, I believe, and he’s at the festivities. We’ll get out of here in about a week. Put in to be painted, you know.”

Frank and Ned had read that fact before coming up from Norfolk, and certainly the battleship was spick and span, and as shiny as the sailors could make her, every bit of brass, copper and nickel gleaming in the sun.

Our lads had hammocks next to one another, but it was not with much delight that they noticed that the red-haired bully, Hank Dell, was assigned to the same mess as themselves, his hammock adjoining Ned’s.

“But we won’t bother him if he doesn’t bother us,” Frank said to his brother.

There was not so much to be done aboard the Georgetown while she was in the navy yard as there would be once she was afloat, though there is always a certain amount of routine labor to be performed on a ship when she is in commission and subject to orders at a moment’s notice. In consequence, many of the sailors had been allowed shore leave, and after the first two days, during which they were made to do considerable work to make them familiar with the different parts of the craft, Frank and Ned were allowed a day off.

They went to New York, and strolled down toward the aquarium, hoping they might see the two thieves. But though they spent some time inside the building they were not successful in their quest.

They sent some souvenir postals to their uncle, knowing he would be glad to know that they remembered him. They had written frequently since they had been separated from him.

Seeing the sights of the big city again, after an absence of four months, was much enjoyed by the boys. But, strange as it may seem, they were glad to be back on board again. For they had no home now, and the battleship really filled that place in their hearts. Later on, when their uncle’s affairs should have been straightened out, they would, perhaps, be back in the old homestead.

Captain Decker, in command of the Georgetown, returned about a week after Ned and Frank had reached the vessel, and at once preparations were made for putting to sea. The big craft was to cruise about, and do some target practice off Newport later on.

Life aboard a battleship is very much a matter of routine, with the same thing occurring at the same time every day, save when unexpected drills, such as collision drill, or fire drill, are held, no notice being given of these. This is done to keep the men ever on the alert.

“Well, we’re off!” exclaimed Ned, as he and Frank, with the others of the crew, stood on deck, while the Georgetown steamed slowly out of New York harbor one day. “We’re off!”

“And I wonder what will happen before we get back again!” suggested Frank.

“Maybe there’ll be a war!” cried Ned, his eyes sparkling.

Frank shook his head.

“I don’t believe I want one,” he said slowly. “I’m not afraid, but—”

“Yes, I know,” answered his brother.

Though Frank and Ned did not actually take part in a war, they were destined to see some fighting, and to see the destructive work of the big guns when fired at what really was an enemy. But of that, more later.

And so, out to sea went the battleship, with our friends aboard. Now began the real work of a man-o’-warsman. Reveille was sounded on a bugle at 5:30 every morning. That meant that every enlisted man who had not been on guard the night before, must jump out of his hammock, lash it up, and prepare himself for breakfast. There was no lagging—no taking a few more “winks,” for only fifteen minutes was allowed for clearing the decks of hammocks. Then coffee or cocoa was served, with bread, or, if the men preferred it, hardtack. And very good this was, too, not like the kind you read of in old-fashioned books, mouldy and full of worms. It was clean and sweet.

Half an hour was allowed for this early meal, and it could be followed by a smoke for those who indulged in tobacco. Frank and Ned did not, however.

At 6:30 all hands were summoned to clean ship. It might seem that this need not be done every day, but it has to be attended to, for a battleship is almost like a small town, and there is always something to be done. The men are told off into divisions, and each man has a certain “station,” the cleanliness of which he is responsible for. Each division, or squad, of men has a certain specified amount of work to do in cleaning ship. One division may have to scrub part of the deck, another will be given boats to clean and make ship-shape, and another will have paint work or brass or copper fittings to polish.

It might be mentioned that following the early morning cup of coffee each man is required to wash his own clothes, for cleanliness is one of the cardinal points in the navy. And matters are so arranged that the cleaning of the ship stops in time for the men to make themselves neat for the breakfast, which is served from 7:30 to 8:15 A. M. For this the men are always in uniform, the nature of their clothing depending on the climate they are cruising in.

As was mentioned, the two brothers had their hammocks slung near that of Hank Dell. Nine o’clock is the hour when all blue-jackets must be in their hammocks, unless allowed to stay up for some entertainment, of which there are many aboard the ships.

At 7:30 A.M. on the first day out, when Frank and Ned went to sling their beds, in readiness for the night, Frank saw Hank near Ned’s lashed hammock.

“Guess you’re making a mistake, aren’t you?” said Frank. “That isn’t yours.”

“Oh, that’s so!” exclaimed Hank, with affected surprise. “I’m a bit green about things here. Mine’s over on this side,” and he went to his own sleeping quarters.

Frank thought no more about it at the time, but slung his own hammock. Ned, coming down a few minutes afterward, did the same. Then, as the time was free up to nine o’clock, the brothers went on deck to enjoy the air, for the day had been hot.

“Say, it’s simply great, isn’t it?” remarked Ned, as he gazed off over the heaving waters, silvered by the moon.

“Couldn’t be better,” declared Frank. “It’s the best life ever!”

The signal came for turning in, and the men, rather regretfully perhaps, went below.

As Ned sprang up into his hammock it gave way with him, and down he came with a crash, turning over so that he fell on deck, off the mattress, bruising himself painfully.

“Hurt?” asked Frank, hurrying to his brother’s side.

“Oh, not so much but that I can stand it,” was the grim answer.

Some little commotion was caused by this accident, and a number of the men laughed, Hank seeming to find much pleasure in the occurrence. An officer came along.

“What’s going on here?” he asked sternly.

“My hammock gave way with me, sir,” reported Ned, saluting.

“Did some one pull it down?”

“I don’t think so, sir.”

Frank, who had been bending over the end of the hammock, gave a startled cry.

“The ropes have been cut!” he exclaimed.

CHAPTER XIII—TARGET PRACTICE

Of course no one answered. Probably the officer did not expect that any one would. He looked about at the circle of jackies, some of whom were grinning broadly. Frank looked angry—Ned had a pained look on his face.

“If I find out who did this,” went on the officer, “I’ll make him smart for it. Turn in, all of you! I’ll have another hammock assigned to you,” he remarked to Ned. “Do you need medical assistance?”

“No, sir. Thank you. I think I’ll be all right.”

The officer wheeled about and marched off, and a little later one of the sailors, who had charge of the store room, came and told Ned where he could get a hammock.

“I’ll get it,” offered Frank. “You take it easy.”

“Oh, I’m not so badly off as all that.”

“Well, save yourself all you can. I’ll get the hammock.” And Frank did. As he came back with it he heard Hank saying to some one:

“Well it happened all right, didn’t it?”

“What happened?” asked Frank, quickly, a suspicion growing rapidly in his mind.

“None of your business! I wasn’t talking to you,” was the sharp retort.

“I’ll make it my business,” said Frank, as he slung Ned’s hammock for him.

“Here you! Quiet down back there!” came the orders from a petty officer, as he heard the talking.

Ned limped as he made his way across the deck to his new hammock, and Frank had to help him up into it.

“Queer sort of game,” murmured the younger lad, as he settled himself comfortably on the mattress. “Who do you suppose cut those ropes?”

“Don’t you know?” asked Frank.

“I can’t imagine.”

“It was that bully, Hank, of course. I saw him monkeying near your lashings when I made up, but I didn’t think, then, that he was up to any tricks. But I’ll pay him out all right.”

“Say, don’t get into trouble on my account,” begged his brother.

“Oh, I won’t get into any trouble, don’t worry,” was the answer. “But I’ll pay him back all right,” Frank murmured as he leaped up into his swinging bed.

Neither Frank nor Ned rested well that night. Ned on account of the pain in his hip, and Frank because he was wondering why Hank, or any one, for that matter, should have such a grudge against him or his brother as to cut the hammock ropes.

“I guess Hank, who did it, just wanted to play a mean trick,” thought Frank. “But I’ll have it out with him just the same. He needs a lesson!”

Ned groaned as he tried to get out of his hammock the next morning.

“Stiff?” asked Frank, who tumbled out at reveille.

“Dead lame, I’m afraid. I’ll have to report sick, I guess.”

“Well, maybe you’d better. No use taking any chances.”

“It’s tough luck,” said Ned. “And I wanted to be in for target practice, too,” for it had become known that the day would be given over to that drill.

“Never mind,” Frank consoled him. “You’ll have your chance later.”

So while Frank, with the others, went through the early morning duties, Ned did not. Of course his absence was noted by the officer in charge of his division, who each day inspected the men under his charge and made a report to the executive. In turn Ned’s name reached the captain as not being at his post, but that was merely a matter of routine.

At 8:30 each day, aboard the battleships, there is what is known as sick-call. At that time all who are not well must consult the medical officer. But Ned could not do this as he could only limp, so he was taken on a stretcher and it was found that he was suffering from a severe bruise. He was sent to the hospital, where he was told he would have to stay in bed for two or three days.

And so Ned missed the first target practice, which was with three-inch guns. Frank told him about it afterward.

“Oh, well, that isn’t so bad, if it was only three-inch guns,” remarked the invalided lad. “I was afraid I’d miss the big ones.”

“They come later,” Frank remarked.

“Say, Frank,” whispered Tom Dawson, one of the recruits from Norfolk, to Ned’s brother a little later, “do you know who it was cut the ropes of the hammock?”

“I have my suspicions,” was the answer.

“Well, I can tell you for sure. It was that sneak, Hank Dell. He’s boasting of it now!”

“I was pretty sure he did. What was his object?”

“I guess he wants you and your brother to shift to some other mess. There are a couple of tough friends of his that he wants to berth alongside of him in your places.”

“Well, he’s welcome to have them as far as I’m concerned,” Frank said, “but he needn’t have gone that way about it. I think I’ll have to take it out on him.”

“I would,” advised Tom. “Some of us will stand by you. We don’t like Hank any too well. Slip down below right after afternoon drill, and there’ll be a clear place where you can see how well he can handle his fists.”

“I’ll do it,” agreed Frank.

Boxing is encouraged among the blue-jackets, and Frank was an adept at it. He had seen Hank in action, and realized that he, too, could put up a good fight.

Afternoon drill began at 1:30 o’clock, and on this occasion consisted of a talk on projectiles, and practice in sighting the big gun, and in firing a dummy charge. It was over at three, and Frank slipped below. Some of those in the secret followed him.

Just how it had been brought about Frank did not know, but in a secluded place on a lower deck he found a number of his friends, and there, also, was Hank with a few of his cronies. Hank did not wait but swaggered up to Frank and said:

“I understand you have been sayin’ things about me.”

“What things?” asked Frank, coolly.

“About slicin’ the ropes of your brother’s hammock.”

“I said I thought you cut them—yes.”

“Well, if I did, what are you going to do about it?”

Frank’s answer was to strip off his middy blouse, an action followed by Hank. The others formed a ring about them, and soon the fight was on. It was scientific, in a way, until Frank, with a feint, caught Hank unawares, and landed a good blow on one eye.

Then Hank lost his head and struck out wildly. He lost control of himself, and Frank easily got through his guard, planting several effective blows.

“I—I’ll pay you for that!” spluttered Hank, as his lips swelled and one eye partly closed. He struck out wildly, and did manage to hit Frank on the face. It was a stinging blow, and hurt. But Frank knew he could not hope to come off scathless.

Then it was give and take for awhile, until Frank saw his chance, and aimed a sharp uppercut at Hank’s chin. It caught the bully squarely, and almost lifted him off his feet. He staggered back, and would have fallen had not one of his chums caught him.

“I—I’ve had enough!” he muttered.

“Don’t try to cut down any more hammocks,” said Frank, as he went to wash himself, for a scratch on his cheek was bleeding.

“Oh, you haven’t heard the last from me—not by any means,” threatened Hank. But Frank did not worry.

The next day when Hank reported for early morning inspection his condition, as well as that of Frank, attracted the attention of the officer in charge of the division.

“How did you get that black eye?” he asked of Hank.

“Why, sir,” was the grinning answer, “one of the fifteen-inch rifles recoiled and struck me.”

“Very good!” was the grim and understanding comment. “And you, Arden—how about your scratches?”

“The—er—the goat mascot, sir.”

“I see. A new fact in natural history—a goat with claws.”

Of course, fighting was forbidden, but it went on just the same, and it was winked at to a certain extent when not too flagrant. So the incident was closed, as far as the ship authorities were concerned.

A few days later Ned was able to report again for his duties, and after that Hank was transferred to another division, berthing in another part of the ship.

“Well, I’m glad he’s gone,” Ned remarked. So were many others, for the red-haired recruit was not generally liked.

When the Georgetown had been at sea about a week, it was announced one morning directly after sick-call that great gun drill would be held.

“And it’s with projectiles, too!” cried Ned. “Cracky, but I’m glad. You’re in the forward turret with me, Frank.”

“Yes, and I hope our ear drums don’t crack. They make an awful racket, those fifteen-inch rifles.”

Preparations for the drill went on. It had been gone through with many times before, though not always with charges of powder and projectiles, so the men knew the routine.

Frank had been detailed on this occasion as gun-pointer, which meant that he was to fire the gun when it was sighted at the target. Ned was helping with the ammunition and powder, which came up into the turret on a hoist, or elevator, from the magazine below.

“Are you all ready?” asked the officer in charge of the forward turret.

“All ready,” was the answer.

“Watch yourselves, then. Try to make a record,” he added.

“Aye, aye, sir!” answered Frank, who stood at the telescope sight, ready to look for the big canvas target which would soon be towed into range.

CHAPTER XIV—A BRAVE ACT

It might be stated here that the big guns are moved and controlled by machinery, but the machinery is under the fingers of the pointer and his assistants. By a simple movement of a lever the gun can be shifted up or down or from side to side. And probably all know that elevation is one of the most important matters in firing.

If a gun is taken, or for that matter a bean-shooter, and some projectile is fired or blown through the air, it will be noticed that it goes in a straight line for only a short distance. Then it begins to curve down and fall. This is due to loss of energy, and to the attraction of gravitation.

Now if the gun be held, say, exactly parallel to the earth’s surface, it will be noted that the projectile will go a certain distance. Lower the gun, and it will not go so far. Raise it and the bullet (or bean, if the trial is made with a bean-shooter) will go much farther. And it is this angle of fire that is most important.

By computation it is possible to know at just what angle or inclination to point the gun in order to send its projectile to a certain point at a known distance away. And in order to find this distance it is necessary to use what are called range-finders.

These are something like telescopes, but the science known as triangulation is brought into use, also. So a range-finder on a battleship can in a short time signal to the gun-pointer just how far away a certain hostile ship or a target may be. When the gun-pointer knows the distance, he knows just how much to elevate or depress his gun in order to make the projectile come somewhere near the object at which he is aiming.

“All ready now. I think we’ll get the range soon,” said the officer in charge of the turret where Ned and Frank were stationed.

Every one was on the alert. The lads stood at attention. Into the breech of the big gun had been put the steel projectile, and back of that the powder, hundreds of pounds of it. Frank stood ready to press the trigger, which would detonate the primer and explode the charge. In front of him was the telescope sight, and at his fingers’ ends were the controls that would move the gun whichever way he wished. Ned stood at the ammunition hoist.

A shrill whistle sounded in the turret. The officer in charge listened.

“The range is thirteen thousand yards,” he said. An observer in a crow’s-nest on one of the masts had sent in this information. The target was just coming into view, and through the range-finder the distance was quickly computed.

“Aye, aye, sir!” answered Frank in response to the officer. Then he bent down to peer through the telescope sight.

“Can you see it?” asked the officer.

“Not yet——there it is!” cried Frank, suddenly.

“Fire when you sight it properly.”

There was a moment’s hesitation. Then Frank’s finger pressed on the lever that would send the great projectile on its way.

Such a crash followed that every one was deafened for a moment, in spite of the fact that every man in the turret stood on his toes to lessen the shock, and had his ears stuffed with cotton. The great gun recoiled, the back action being taken up by shock-absorbers, however. A sharp, acrid smell filled the turret. Smoke drifted in. Men staggered back and opened their mouths for air. It seemed as if ten thousand thunder claps had been made into one.

Then came a silence.

“Do you think you hit it?” asked Ned, and his voice sounded so strange, after the great crash, that nearly every one laughed.

“Silence!” called the officer in charge.

Again came a whistle through the speaking tube.

“Yes!” answered the listening officer. “A hit? Good! You made a hit the first try!” he shouted to Frank. “Try again.”

Frank blushed with pleasure. But one would never have known that his cheeks reddened, for he was black with grease and oil, having been engaged in going over the mechanism before he made the shot. The smoke was gradually blackening every one.

No sooner had the gun recoiled and moved back into place again, than compressed air rushed automatically into the breech and barrel, to drive out any slow-burning pieces of powder that might possibly ignite the next charge when it was inserted.

“Once more!” called the officer in charge, as up came the supply of powder and the projectile. Ned and his mates shoved them into the gun, and again the breech was closed with a clang.

“Listen for the range,” directed the officer. “They may try to fool us.” For in order to get as nearly as possible to actual war conditions, the target-towers were often instructed to run a zigzag course, sometimes close to, and again far away from the firing ship.

Once more came the signal into the turret from the range-finder.

“Eight thousand yards!”

“Whew!” commented the officer. “They’re running in on us.”

“Have to lower the gun,” commented Ned.

As has been said, in order to reach a far distant point, a gun must be elevated more than to hit a mark close by.

“Down she goes!” Frank exclaimed, as the mechanism depressed the muzzle.

“Can you sight the target?” asked the officer.

“Sight she is!”

“Then fire!”

“Fire!” echoed Frank.

Again came that belch of smoke and acrid smell, the recoil of the gun, the trembling turret and the rush of compressed air as it blew out the burning particles of powder.

Powder that is used in big guns is not like the old-fashioned black powder. It is highly explosive, but some of the “grains” are in sheets, perforated like a piece of Swiss cheese, and as large as your palm. Some is in long sticks, like large macaroni. Other is in brown hexagons, two inches across. You can safely touch a match to some of this powder and let it burn as you hold it. It is when it is confined, as in a gun, and the gases from it can not escape after its sudden detonation, that it exerts its explosive force.

So the target practice went on, the young blue-jackets taking turns at sighting and firing the gun. But no one bettered Frank’s record of shots though Ned came close to it. It was hot work in the turret. The boys were stripped to their waists, and even then they were wet with perspiration and blackened with smoke and oil.

Finally there flashed into view on the turret signal device the words “cease firing.” The practice was over. And then, just how it happened no one could tell, there was discovered on the iron floor of the turret a burning mass of powder that was slowly flaming. And worse than that, this burning powder was near a large charge that had been hoisted up but not used.

“Look!” cried Ned, frantically.

“Run out!” shouted Frank, aware of the danger of an explosion.

“Clear the turret!” yelled the officer. “Out, every one of you!”

The explosion was imminent. The officer stood at the entrance as the lads rushed out. Frank was the last, being preceded by Hank Dell. As the latter hurried he slipped and fell, striking his head on a steel projection. With a moan he rolled over unconscious.

The next instant, though the explosion might occur any moment, Frank stooped over, and catching up in his strong arms the body of the unconscious bully, he bore him from the turret, though, had he wished, Frank might have leaped across the prone form to safety.

“Quick!” cried the officer, as he leaped after Frank to help him. But there was no need. Frank had carried out his enemy.

The next instant there was a big flash of fire, and a dull report that threw Frank with his burden down to the deck.

CHAPTER XV—ORDERED SOUTH

“But young Arden didn’t know that when he stopped to pick up Dell,” said the officer in charge. “Young man, I want to congratulate you on as brave an act as I’ve seen in a long time!”

“Oh, it wasn’t anything,” protested Frank, blushing. His blushes could be seen now, for this was some time later, and he and the others had washed. Hank, who had received a bad cut on his head by the fall, was sent to the hospital, though he had regained consciousness, and was not badly hurt.

“It was a plucky act,” went on the officer. “But it only goes to show of what stuff Uncle Sam’s jackies are made of.”

The effects of the explosion were soon cleared away, and an investigation started to ascertain how it had happened. But it was one of those unaccountable things that frequently occur on even the most perfectly-manned battleships. Fortunately, no serious damage had been done, and no one hurt except Hank, and his injury was due to a slip and fall that might have occurred even when he was swabbing down the deck.

The affair had one good and lasting effect, however. Of course Hank did not fail to learn who had picked him up and carried him from the turret when the explosion was about to occur. And, harmless as the explosion turned out, there is no doubt that had any one been in the turret at the time, instead of at the entrance, he would have been killed, or at least badly injured. So Hank learned that, in effect, Frank had saved his life at the risk of his own.

And when the bully had recovered and reported back for duty he went up to Frank before the whole mess at hammock-slinging time one evening, and held out his hand.

“Will you shake, Arden?” was asked.

“Why certainly, Dell,” was the quick answer.

Their palms met in a warm clasp.

“I want to apologize,” went on Hank. “I’ve acted pretty mean toward you and your brother, and I’m sorry. But I’m done now. If ever you want a friend on this ship, count on me!”

“Thank you,” said Frank, “I don’t hold any grudge.”

“I’m glad of it,” responded Hank. “I know I’ve been rotten, but I’m through. It was fine of you to take me out. I shan’t forget it!”

“Three cheers for Frank Arden!” called some one.

They were given with a will that brought an officer on the run to see what was happening. But when he saw what it was he smiled and turned away.

“And three cheers for Hank Dell!” proposed Ned.

It would have puzzled any one to tell which cheers were the heartiest. And from then on, though occasionally he was up to some trick, the bully was a changed youth. He gave no more trouble, and Frank and Ned had no firmer friend. From being rather careless and neglectful of his progress, he became studious, and in this he was encouraged, for the officers are eager to have their men promoted.

“So that explosion was a good thing after all,” remarked Ned, some time later.

“Yes, though it looked mighty ticklish at the start,” responded Frank, with a smile.

There were other rifle practices as the weeks passed, sometimes with big guns, and more often with the small arms and quick firers. Ned and Frank went in for gunnery work, for which they seemed to have a peculiar aptitude, and in this they were encouraged by their superiors.

Quite often they wrote to their uncle, and also heard from him. Friends had reopened his case, but it was dragging slowly along, and there was no immediate prospect of his release.

“I wish we could help him,” said Frank, with a sigh.

“So do I,” chimed in Ned. “But how can we?”

There did not seem to be any way in which the boys could assist.

Drill and instruction went on unceasingly aboard the Georgetown. There are nine principal drills aboard a battleship. These are great gun drill; infantry and light artillery; boats, under oars or sails; signals; collisions and abandon ship; fire-quarters; general quarters; clear ship for action; and coaling ship.

Some days only one or two drills may be ordered, and on others none. Nor are they followed in the order given, for above everything else the government does not want life aboard ship to become monotonous. Often the drills were broken into by short, instructive talks by the officers.

In the succeeding chapters will be briefly told of what each drill consists.

It was one day following boat drill, when the small craft had come racing back in response to the recall signal, that Frank and Ned, whose boat had won an impromptu race, observed signs of unusual activity aboard.

“What’s up?” Frank asked a petty officer.

“Just got wireless orders,” was the answer. “We’re ordered South!”

“Ordered South?” echoed Ned. “Where?”

“Down to a small South American republic. Uridio it’s called. I never heard of it, but there’s some sort of a revolution there, and we’re ordered down to protect American interests. I didn’t know Uridio was on the map.”

“Well, we did,” said Frank in a low voice to his brother. “Oh, Ned! That’s where Uncle Phil’s property is. Maybe now we’ll get a chance to help him!”

CHAPTER XVI—HEAVY SEAS

“Huh! Wait until you try it once,” went on the blue-jacket. “I was down in the tropics once when we had some evolutions, and say! I haven’t got rid of all the blisters yet. That’s what makes me wonder when I see you fellows showing all sorts of signs of joy!“

“Well, some of our money is invested down in that little republic, and we want a chance to see what it looks like,” Frank explained.

“Come off! What sort of talk are you giving me?” demanded the sailor. “Money invested, and you working for Uncle Sam? Tell me something easier to believe,” and he laughed in a good-natured way.

Frank and Ned exchanged meaning looks, and tacitly agreed that perhaps it would be better not to go into any explanation of the matter. It would be hard to convince the ordinary blue-jacket that the two battleship boys once possessed a considerable fortune that was now tied up because of political troubles in Uridio. It sounded more like a tale from a book, than the real thing, as Frank admitted to his brother later.

“So we’d just better keep still about it, I think,” he said. “Of course if we get a chance to do a good turn for Uncle Phil, and, incidentally ourselves, we will. We can speak to the captain or some of the officers about it, and we have papers that prove what we say is true. Only there is no use in going into all this to any of the sailors.”

“I guess you’re right,” admitted Ned. The two lads did have certain documents that would establish the truth of what they had said, namely, that their fortune, as well as that of their uncle, was tied up in investments in the “banana republic,” as the small countries of Central and South America are often called.

Matters regarding Mr. Arden’s affairs had not changed of late, according to the last advices received by the boys. They had not, as they had hoped, been able to visit him at Atlanta.

Their life at the naval training station had been more fully occupied than they had expected, and there was no time to take the trip to Georgia. They had regretted the matter very much at the time, and Mr. Arden was greatly disappointed at not seeing his nephews. But he knew it could not be helped. Now, however, there might be a chance to do him a much greater service than would have resulted from a mere visit.

“Heat isn’t the only thing that’s disagreeable down in the tropics,” went on the sailor the next time he saw Frank and Ned.

“No?” asked Ned.

“I should say not! There’s no telling what sort of disease you may catch.”

“Well, I’m not going to try and catch any,” laughed Frank. “If some disease wants to catch me I’ll do my best to get away, too.”

“And there’s all sorts of bugs and crawling things,” continued the blue-jacket, making a wry face.

“Oh, don’t listen to him!” exclaimed Hank Dell, who, of late, had become quite chummy with Frank and Ned. “He’s a regular calamity-howler, he is!”

“Yes, and you’ll be a howler, too, when some of those South American chiggers get after you and burrow under your skin,” predicted the other as he went below.

The news that the Georgetown had been ordered to South American waters where there was a prospect of some real fighting, soon spread all over the ship. As boat after boat returned from the drill, and was hoisted to the davits, the sailors discussed the wireless message that had been received. Of course the enlisted men did not know any of the particulars, merely being told that the rather aimless cruising about, which had thus far marked the voyage, was at an end, and that orders had come to start South.

Now the Georgetown had a definite object in view, and it was rumored throughout the ship that hereafter drills would be stricter and that drills with the big guns would be more frequent.

“Of course we won’t stop for any target practice, though,” reasoned Ned.

“Hardly,” agreed Frank. “I guess, too, they won’t fire away many of the big, expensive projectiles. We may need them for Uridio.”

“Yes, we may have a run-in with their navy,” his brother said.

“Navy!” laughed Hank. “Say, I don’t believe they have any more navy than Switzerland has, and all that country can put out is a motor boat on Lake Constance.”

“Well, I guess there won’t be any waste of ammunition if there’s a prospect of some real work,” another sailor remarked.

As has been said, the word for the Georgetown to proceed to Uridio had come by wireless, and later it was learned that the battleship was to stop at Havana for sealed orders, and also to take on board certain stores—ammunition and supplies that would be waiting for her.

“It means business all right,” said Frank to Ned, as they were talking the matter over before turning into their hammocks for the night. “I wonder if we shall be able to go ashore and get any sort of a line on that business of Uncle Phil’s?”

“We’ll make a good try, anyhow,” declared Ned. “I guess the captain or some of the executive officers will give us help and advice if we ask them.”

“That’s a good idea,” Frank added.

As soon as all the boats had returned, the course of the battleship was changed, and now, with black smoke pouring from her funnels, she was rushing away through the night toward Cuba, there to stop, and as soon as possible afterward to take up her journey again toward South America.

A totally different spirit and feeling was on board now, at least among the younger enlisted men. It was the nearest any of them had yet come to conditions of actual warfare, though probably the matter of proceeding to regulate matters in a small republic, such as Uridio was, and looking after the interests of United States’ citizens there, was really a small affair in the minds of the higher officers, some of whom had been with Dewey at Manila when the Spanish fleet was defeated.

A change was made the next day in the nature and manner of holding the drills. For some time the lighter forms of evolutions had been the order of the day. But after the wireless orders were received there was more big gun drill and more, too, of infantry and light artillery tactics insisted on.

The United States blue-jackets often have to perform the services of a soldier in time of war, and that they may be familiar with those duties special drills are devised. Often, when a ship is in port, the men will be landed and go through these drills on shore. But now, in the case of the Georgetown, they took place on the big decks.

The manual of arms was gone through with again and again, and the light artillery was brought up and put into action against an imaginary enemy, blank charges being fired. Frank, Ned and their chums greatly enjoyed this drill.

“If you do as well when you’re ordered ashore to proceed against a howling mob, you’ll be all right,” remarked one of the officers at the conclusion of some snappy work one day.

“Oh, we’ll do it!” said Ned, to his brother.

While it was not for a moment thought that the Georgetown would be endangered from the shots of any hostile ship, or from the guns of a fort on shore, still drills were held that would enable the men to repair any possible damage in such a contingency.

These drills were collision, fire-quarters, general-quarters, and clearing ship for action.

The signal for collision drill was unexpectedly sounded one day when they were but a short distance from Havana. At once all the water-tight doors in the battleship were closed by machinery, and Frank, Ned and the others rushed to the various stations that had previously been assigned to them.

It was the work of the squad, or division, that included Frank and Ned to put over the side a thick, heavy collision mat, which was lowered to cover an imaginary hole, supposed to have been blown in the ship below the water-line or near it by a torpedo or projectile. The object of the collision mat is to stop the inrush of water until the water-tight doors can be made fast, or dropped into place.

In order to give as many as possible practice at this drill it was gone through with a number of times, several collision mats being used. It was hard work, for the mats were heavy, and Frank and Ned were not sorry when it was over.

Havana was reached in due season, and shore liberty was allowed to all in turn, for the ship was to remain there two days. Frank and Ned greatly enjoyed the novel sights ashore, and were rather sorry when they were under way again. But they were also eager for the work ahead of them, and anxious about the prospect of aiding their uncle, and saving, if possible, their own fortunes.

The night after leaving Havana Frank was awakened by a violent pitching and tossing. He heard Ned, next to him, moving about restlessly, and asked:

“What’s up?”

“I don’t know, unless it’s a storm,” was the reply.

“That’s it, we’ve run into some heavy weather,” said an older sailor.

Though there was a violent pitching and tossing, which motion was imparted to the Georgetown in spite of her great size, still our two heroes were not made greatly uncomfortable. The swaying hammocks did not take all the motions through which the vessel went, though the “beds” did sway more than usual. But the recruits had gotten their sea-legs some time before, and none was made seasick. This malady had not bothered Ned and Frank at all, for they had gone through their initiation in that regard years before, on Great South Bay and the adjacent ocean.

In the morning the Georgetown was plowing her way through a stormy sea, a heavy gale was blowing and sending the salt spray across her decks.

“It’s like the time we were out in our motor boat,” remarked Ned.

“Yes,” agreed Frank, and he thought regretfully of the Ellen. “And maybe we’ll have the same pleasure some time later, if we get back the money from the revolutionists,” he added.

“Why, are you going to quit the battleship?” asked Ned.

“Oh, no, I haven’t any idea of that sort, but if we get back our money we might apply for a leave of absence. Or after our four years are up, we can take a furlough.”

CHAPTER XVII—A CHASE

“There you go again, old calamity-howler!” laughed Tom Dawson, who, with Hank, had become quite chummy with Ned and Frank.

Certainly the Georgetown was being rather ill-used by the elements. The storm increased, rather than diminished, and soon had attained the proportions of a hurricane. There was rain, too, but so heavy was the salt spray, whipped from the crests of the foaming billows, that out on deck one could not tell the fresh water from the briney. It all came down together.

Of course, in the storm everything was lashed fast, life lines were stretched about the decks, and only the necessary routine work and duties were performed. The battleship proved herself most seaworthy, and though she did roll and pitch and toss, still she remained as tight as a drum, even under the terrific strain.

To while away the time, which was monotonous because of enforced idleness, only the necessary men being allowed on deck, some amusements were permitted. Boxing contests were arranged, though it was no easy matter to keep one’s footing, and in several of the bouts the less skillful men managed to “knock-out” efficient boxers. This was because an unexpected roll of the ship would send the good boxer off his balance when he least expected it, and the other would have a chance to “land” one on him. But it was all in fun, and taken in good part.

Frank and Ned were good banjo players, and could also perform on the guitar. And as they had each purchased an instrument just before being assigned to the Georgetown, and as several other recruits had also displayed musical talents, they were able to give an impromptu concert below decks during the storm.

The officers encourage the blue-jackets to do this, and instruction in music is provided to those who are fitted for it. Life on a battleship or in the navy is not so dull as some people would have prospective recruits understand.

Gradually the storm blew itself out, or else the battleship ran out of the storm region, and after two days of inclement weather the wind died down, the sun came out, and the men were able to move about freely on the upper decks and go about their usual duties.

Shortly after sick-call one morning there came the rapid ringing of the ship’s big bell, and in different parts of the craft bugles were sounded. Then came a certain number of taps on the big bell.

“Fire quarters!” cried Ned, as he caught the signal. He jumped away from the work he was doing, polishing some brass, and ran for his designated station.

“Is it drill or real, I wonder?” asked Frank, as he, too, hurried along with his brother. All over the ship were seen signs of activity.

“Fire-quarters! Fire-quarters!” was called.

Again the bugles blew, and by the manner of the call the location of the “fire” was indicated.

“After magazine!” shouted Ned, as he listened to the call.

No one knew whether it was a call to fight a real fire, or whether it was simply a drill. For just as the fire signal is given in the public schools, to get the children used to answering it unexpectedly and without undue alarm, so on board the battleships these emergency drills are held at unexpected times.

In a few minutes after fire-quarters had sounded on the Georgetown every man was at the station which had been assigned to him some time previous, in other like drills. Then long lines of hose were manned, all converging toward the after magazine, which was the position indicated by the signals. At once all water-tight doors and hatches were closed, so that in case there was a fire it would be prevented from spreading to other parts of the ship.

But fortunately this was not a real blaze on the battleship. The drill was simply for practice, and when the hose had been unreeled, and all was in readiness for flooding the magazine, had such a course been necessary, and when all the doors and hatches had been closed, word was given to the men to resume the work at which they had been when the call came.

“Whew! That was hot work!” exclaimed Ned, wiping the perspiration from his face.

“I should say yes,” agreed his brother.

The storm had passed away, but as they were now in the tropics and would shortly cross the equator, the air was hot and moist. Orders had been given for a change of clothes, and the men and officers now wore as cool garments as possible, presenting a fine appearance in their white uniforms.

Down past Venezuela and the three Guianas steamed the mighty Georgetown. Then, a little later, the ship was off the mouth of the great Amazon, and the “line,” as the equator is called, was crossed.

Of course there was the usual horse-play and high jinks permitted by the officers. Neptune, in the person of one of the sailors, came aboard, with his trident, his crown and his wealth of hair, made from strands of oakum; and before Neptune and his court were brought those who had never yet crossed the equator. They were to be initiated.

Various feats were assigned to the luckless ones, not all of them mild, either. But everyone went through the fun with good spirits, though Hank Dell protested when he was told to thrust his head into a bucket of soapy water. He hesitated, but his mates forced him to take the ducking.

“Wough!” he spluttered, as his eyes and mouth were filled with the soapy mixture. Then he was doused with a pail of clean water, and his novitiate over.

Frank and Ned, with the others, had to submit to their share of the hazing, but finally it came to an end amid gales of laughter.

“Well, we won’t have to go through with that again,” Frank remarked to his brother when they were changing into clean and fresh garments.

“No, and I’m glad of it. There was a little too much rough stuff in it to suit me.”

“Oh, it’ll do us good, I guess,” laughed Frank.

In the days that followed other drills were held aboard the battleship, though they were made as light as possible on account of the hot weather in the tropics.

When the general-quarters call was sounded, all took their stations at the guns for fighting the ship. This was what would be done on going into action, and that drill was usually preceded by the “clearing ship for action” order. In this the upper decks were cleared of all unnecessary rigging, not actually required for fighting. In this drill it is sometimes customary to lower the boats, but as the Georgetown was speeding to accomplish a certain mission she was not stopped to permit the lowering of the small boats.

“Abandon ship” was another drill that interested Ned and Frank. This drill often came after collision drill, and was supposed to indicate that the ship had been so badly damaged in action that she was likely to sink. When the “abandon” signal was given each man rushed to his particular station at the small boats.

Each man had also to get a certain amount of food or supplies which was always his portion, and stow this in the boat. So proficient did the blue-jackets become that in a few minutes after the signal had been given to abandon ship the whole crew, officers and all, would be ready to take to the boats and pull away. And in the boats would be enough food for several days, as well as other comforts and necessities. Everything possible is thought of in advance, and preparations made for all emergencies, from fire or explosion on board, to an attack by an enemy.

Down past the shoulder of Brazil slipped the Georgetown, and as she was now leaving the equator and going south, the heat of the weather moderated a little. Still it was warm enough.

“It won’t be long before we shall be there,” remarked Frank to Ned one day, as they stood on the forward deck, looking across the sea.

“Yes, we ought to be there soon. I hope we’re in time.”

“In time? What do you mean?”

“I mean I hope the revolution isn’t all over.”

“Oh, I see,” laughed Frank.

Suddenly the lookout cried:

“Steamer ho!”

“Where away?” came the demand.

“Almost dead ahead. Looks like some sort of cruiser.”

Ned, Frank and several others, including a number of officers looked in the direction indicated. There, speeding away ahead of the Georgetown, was a craft that did look like a small fighting craft.

“Can you make out her flag?” asked one officer to another.

“No, not yet,” was the reply, as the one addressed peered through his glasses.

“Yes, I can, too!” he cried a moment later. “If those rascals of revolutionists of Uridio haven’t got a navy! Well, who would have thought it!”

“Let me see,” demanded the other. “Yes,” he continued a moment later, “it is a small cruiser, and she flies the hostile flag. They must have bought some old fighting craft that some nation considered out of date. The captain must be informed.”

A little later there sounded down in the engine room of the Georgetown the signal from the bridge of, “full speed ahead!”

“Are we going to chase her?” asked Ned.

“It looks that way,” said his brother.

From the funnels of the battleship belched clouds of black smoke.