“We had better call it a draw now, had we not?” begged Davis during a lull. “You’ve had enough. I don’t want to hurt you more.”

“No!” bellowed Kester, enraged at the suggestion. “Not till I’ve put you to sleep for the rest of the night.”

“Then we had better end it right here. This for Hickey—and this for me!”

The men said afterwards that they saw no blows struck, but that they heard two distinct impacts. What they did see was Kester hurled clear across the ring, after two eight-ounce gloves had landed on the very point of his jaw, directed by all the strength of Dan Davis’s well-trained muscles.

Kester went clear through the ropes.

“Catch him!” shouted Dan.

Others had discovered the defeated bully’s danger. Half a dozen tars sprang to his rescue. Already Bill Kester’s head and shoulders were through the ship’s rope railing, and in another second he would plunge headlong into the sea.

CHAPTER XVIII—THE ORDERLY TAKES A HEADER

All at once the jackies seemed to have recovered from their surprise.

“Dynamite! Dynamite!” they roared.

Making a concerted rush at the Battleship Boy, they hoisted him to their shoulders and began marching about the deck shouting and singing, though Dan much preferred not to have his victory celebrated in this manner. There was no restraining the jackies, however. From a raw recruit Dan Davis had, in a few moments, won his way into the heart of every jackie, except Kester, on board the “Long Island.” Dan had suddenly grown from boyhood to manhood in their estimation.

As soon as he could release himself from their hospitable shoulders the lad made his way to the ring, where Kester’s seconds had just succeeded in restoring him to consciousness.

“I’m sorry, Kester. I hope I have not hurt you,” said Dan in a tone of deep concern. To this the fellow made no reply.

“Won’t you shake hands with me and let us be friends?”

“No!”

“Bill, Bill, don’t be a grouch—don’t be a sorehead. Dynie licked you fair and square,” urged one of the man’s companions.

“I’ll even up with you for this, you—you cub!”

Dan drew himself up proudly.

“Very well. I have tried to do the manly thing. If you refuse to have it that way, it surely is not my fault. But I give you fair warning. Keep away and let me alone hereafter. Until you are willing to make friends, I want nothing more to do with you. When you are, I shall be glad to meet you half way.”

“That’s the talk, Dynie,” chorused several voices approvingly. “You had better not fool with the fire any more, Bill. It burns. You ain’t in the same class with that stick of dynamite. He’s got you anchored with both port and starboard anchors and the chains not half out.”

“Please do not stir him up,” begged Dan. “I am ashamed of myself for what I have done as it is.”

“What? Ashamed for licking the ship’s bully?”

“Yes.”

“Well, ain’t that a joke, mates?”

The sailors laughed loudly. In the meantime, Kester’s seconds had gotten him up, and were helping him to a sheltered part of the superstructure, where they assisted him to get into his clothes. The big man was still very unsteady on his feet, and his face was streaked with blood from the unfortunate nose.

“You’ll have to go to Pills to get fixed up.”

“Yes, my nose hurts.”

Once more the surgeon was called upon to dress Bill Kester’s face and bolster up the flattened nose.

“You’ve been in a fight again, my man,” rebuked the surgeon. “I shall have to make a report of it to the captain. Who hit you!”

“Davis.”

“It will go hard with him, then,” muttered the surgeon. “That young man must have an awful punch.”

The surgeon’s report was duly made to the captain. The latter called his executive officer at once.

“See here, Coates, what’s this about Kester having been in another fight?” he demanded after the executive officer had responded to his summons.

“It wasn’t a fight, sir.”

“Not a fight?”

“No, sir. That is, it was a boxing match on the forecastle. One of the regular set-tos. It was all regular and proper, but it was pretty rough, I understand.”

“Who did it?”

“Ordinary Seaman Davis.”

“The red-headed boy?”

“No, his friend.”

“You don’t mean to tell me that that slim youngster put a man of Kester’s build in such shape that he had to report at sick bay, do you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why, I thought Kester was known as a bully?”

“He was, sir. He will not be any longer, I imagine.”

The captain gazed at his executive officer; then, leaning back in his chair, he laughed and chuckled to himself for a full minute.

While fighting and brawling were sternly suppressed on board the “Long Island,” the commanding officer believed that fighting men should be allowed to fight under proper conditions. It had become an unwritten law on board, therefore, that the jackies were to be allowed to settle their difficulties with the gloves, sparring under a referee and with no brutality. This enabled the sailor lads to enjoy many a fine sparring match on the forward deck. In fact, bouts were put on regularly every Saturday night. In doing this the men managed occasionally to pit against each other men who had a grudge to settle. This made the sport more real.

Kester had demanded the match with Davis, and the latter had no way to avoid the meeting without laying himself open to a charge of cowardice. Dan Davis was not a coward, neither was he a bully. He wished to be let alone, and he had gone into the fight with reluctance, as the reader already knows. Now that it was over, he was heartily ashamed of himself for his part in the battle.

“Did any of our officers see the fight, Coates?” asked the captain.

“Yes, sir. Ensigns Brant and Cockrill watched it from the bridge. They tell me it was perfectly regular. I made inquiry. They say the recruit, Davis, put it over the big fellow like a deck awning, though the young fellow evidently was reluctant to fight.”

“I am glad to hear that.”

“I think Kester was to blame for the previous trouble with the other boy.”

“No doubt. I shall make inquiry into that matter as well. I want to make sure that that fellow is trying to stir up trouble on board. When I am certain we will give him a quick trial and put him ashore one of these days.”

“You will take no official action on this last fight, then?”

“Certainly not, since you say it was entirely regular.”

“It was, sir.”

“Then there is nothing mere to be said. Candidly, between ourselves, Coates, I’m more pleased than I know how to express that the young fellow gave Kester a sound thrashing. By the way, I should like to look that young man over.”

“Very good, sir. Shall I send him to you?”

“No, not that way. I’ll tell you what you had better do. Have both boys assigned as my orderlies in turn. I want these new men to get an early chance at orderly duty. It is a most excellent thing for them. Send Hickey to-morrow.”

“Very good, sir.”

“I would rather have my own boys act as my orderlies than have the marines do it.”

The captain’s orderly is supposed to stand outside the captain’s door at all times while the commanding officer is in his quarters. When the captain moves to any other part of the ship his orderly follows at a respectful distance, so as to be on hand to carry orders and to perform such other small duties as the captain may command. It is considered an honor to be chosen for the duty.

Soon after the finish of the fight Dan and Sam hurried to their quarters to turn in. Sam was chuckling over his companion’s great victory. Dan surveyed him with disapproving eyes.

“Dan, I have always looked upon you as a nice, sisterly sort of a chum.”

“Well?” questioned Dan, with a smile.

“You’re a bloodthirsty wretch, that’s what you are. Good night.”

Late that night a full gale sprang up. Word of the weather conditions was brought to the captain.

“Heave up the anchors and get under way at once,” was the command. “Tell the chief engineer to get ready as soon as possible. How many boilers are fired up?”

“Six, sir.”

“Have the fires put under the other two at once. We must put to sea and ride the gale out there.”

The captain quickly dressed and hurried up to the bridge. The spray was dashing clear over the bridge, soaking everything and everyone on it. In the meantime a boatswain’s mate was bawling out his orders through the ship, hurriedly turning out the various watches.

Dan and Sam were awakened by the heavy rolling of the ship. Both sat up in their hammocks at the same instant.

“What’s going on?” asked Dan as he heard men hurrying along the decks to their stations.

“Maybe the ship is sinking,” suggested the cheerful Sam.

“Nonsense!”

“I’m going to get up, anyway.”

“You have no right to do so until you are piped down. You will be called out if you are wanted.”

“You mean to say that I can’t get up if I want to?”

“Certainly not. You are supposed to stay in your hammock and get your rest.”

“Not if the ship is sinking!”

“Oh, that would be different. I guess we would all be getting out in that event.”

“Huh!” muttered Sam, lying back in his swaying hammock, listening to the wind whistling through the cage masts far above them.

In a short time the ship was under way, moving slowly as she headed out to sea. The storm was in no sense dangerous to the ship’s welfare, but it was safer to be out in the open until the gale should have blown itself out.

When the men were piped out the next morning the Battleship Boys found it difficult to keep right side up. Dan was unaffected by the rolling and plunging, but Sam had little appetite for his breakfast.

The morning work having been finished Sam was accosted by the master-at-arms.

“You will act as the captain’s orderly to-day, Hickey,” he said.

“Orderly?”

“Yes.”

Sam did not know whether to be glad or sorry.

“Just before eight bells go to your quarters and put on your clean clothes. See that you are ship-shape. I don’t know why the commanding officer wants you.”

“Thank you, sir. I report at eight bells?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“I’ll let you know. Wherever the captain chances to be at that moment. Quite likely he will be at his breakfast. He is on the bridge at present.”

“What do you think of that, Dan?” demanded Sam slowly, confiding to his companion the order that had just been given to him.

“I think it fine. It looks as if you had gotten into the captain’s good graces. I hope so. See that you perform your duties in a ship-shape manner. Keep your head working all the time. I should call it almost a promotion.”

“I hope I don’t get seasick,” muttered Sam doubtfully. “This rolling is awful.”

An hour later, Sam Hickey made his way down the after gangway to the captain’s quarters, clad in a spotless white uniform, his braided white knife-lanyard drooping gracefully across his chest and disappearing in the pocket of the blouse.

“I’ve come to relieve you as the captain’s orderly,” announced Sam to the marine, who was acting in that capacity.

The orderly returned the nod and hurried away, for he had not yet had his breakfast.

Sam braced himself against a wall in the corridor with his eyes fixed on the swaying curtain that shut off the room in which the captain was breakfasting at that moment. The corridor was narrow and close, and Sam soon grew restive. Espying a chair a little way from him, he helped himself to it and sat down, crossing his legs.

Just then an officer came hurrying through the corridor.

“See here, my man, what are you doing there?” he demanded.

“Captain’s orderly, sir,” answered Sam, saluting.

“Get up! Don’t you know an orderly is supposed to remain on his feet? Never sit down when on duty. Stand at attention when the captain comes out and remain that way until he has passed. After that, follow him.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

The Battleship Boy peered after the retreating form of the officer.

“Seems to me they are mighty particular. I’d like to be up where I could get some air. I wonder if I dare take a sneak to the deck for a whiff?”

Sam did not get the chance just then. It was well for him that he did not, for he would have been severely punished for deserting his post had he been discovered away from it. He started as a sharp command came, from behind the curtain.

“Ord’ly!”

“Who’s calling, I wonder?” muttered the boy.

“Ord’ly!” This time the command was given in a more imperative tone.

“I’ll bet that is the captain. He’s calling me. Yes, sir! I’ll be right there,” shouted Sam, with delightful informality.

He started on a run for the curtained doorway. He did not slacken his speed as he stretched out a hand to thrust the curtain aside. Sam was in so great a hurry that he entirely forgot that under each watertight door opening was an iron sill extending upward some eight inches.

Sam’s toe caught the projection. Just then the battleship gave a great lurch to port. This being the direction in which the boy was traveling at that moment, it gave him added impetus.

The captain opened his eyes in amazement as Hickey’s red-head shot through the curtain.

The Battleship Boy covered about half the width of the cabin, barely touching the floor with his feet, his arms beating the air wildly in his fruitless effort to clutch something that was not moving.

Then the crash came.

Sam landed on his head and shoulders, skated along the slippery floor, headed for the captain’s breakfast table. He hit the mark squarely. That is, he slid right underneath the table, at the same time turning over on his back in an effort to stop his rapid flight.

Sam threw up his feet. The move was fatal. The captain’s table was lifted right up into the air. A crashing of dishes followed as the table turned turtle. A shower of broken glassware rained down over the head of the Battleship Boy followed quickly by the table itself.

Sam lay buried beneath the wreckage.

He did not move, not because he could not, but because he dared not. He feared any movement on his part would mean the end of the world so far as he was concerned.

CHAPTER XIX—THE WORK OF AN ENEMY

“I approve of your prompt attention to duty, lad, but you will have to learn to control yourself.”

“I—I am very sorry, sir.”

“Never mind, lad; you will learn. This is the first time you ever acted as orderly, is it not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then I will instruct you in your duties, for you no doubt will be called upon to perform this duty many times during your service.”

The captain’s kindly tone went straight to the heart of the Battleship Boy.

“In the first place, when you come to the door bearing a message for me you should halt outside and rap, saying, ‘orderly, sir’; then wait for the summons to enter. When I call you to give you some directions, you need not rap. Say nothing, but enter and come to attention. Do you understand!”

“Yes, sir.”

“I am sure you will do better next time. You will now go to the officer of the deck, and say that I wish to see Mr. Coates, the executive officer, at his early convenience.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” answered Sam, backing away. He bethought himself of the door sill just in time to prevent another tumble, this time out into the corridor.

Sam delivered his message and returned to his station, where he pondered deeply over what had befallen him.

“I hope the boys don’t hear about that,” he muttered. “They’d make this ship so warm for me that I should have to jump overboard. I—I couldn’t stand it; that’s all.”

Shortly after that, the captain decided to make an inspection of the ship. It was a long and tiresome journey. For the next two hours Sam Hickey was climbing down and up ladders, crawling through narrow spaces, his head swimming, his face red and perspiring.

“This orderly business isn’t all it is supposed to be,” he complained to himself, when once more they had emerged upon the quarter-deck, Sam following obediently behind the ship’s commander. From there, they went to the bridge.

“How are you headed?” questioned the captain of the man at the wheel.

“South, southeast one half,” came the answer.

“Mr. Coates, the storm appears to be abating. I think we may safely turn about and steam slowly back toward our anchorage now.”

They were out of sight of land by this time. The big ship was turned about and headed back over the reverse course. At noon, eight bells again, Hickey was relieved from his duty, another man taking his place.

The boy heaved a deep sigh of relief and hurried forward to hunt up Dan, to whom he confided his experiences of the morning. Dan laughed until he could laugh no more.

“Don’t—don’t tell any of the fellows, please,” begged Sam.

“It’s too—it’s too good to keep,” gasped Dan between laughs.

“Dan Davis, if you tell a human being about that I’ll thrash you worse than either of us thrashed Bill Kester. Now tell about it, if you want to.”

Dan sobered.

“Very well; if you feel that badly about it I won’t say a word.”

“You had better not,” growled Sam.

The rest of the afternoon was devoted to routine duties aboard ship, Sam having gotten into his old clothes for the work before him. Painting ship was continued. Corridors and gun decks showed the result of the work that already had been done, and the smell of fresh paint was everywhere.

Night came on with the ship nearing her former anchorage.

“We shall have good weather to-morrow,” announced the ship’s navigator.

“I hope so,” answered the captain. “We want to lay out that mine field and get to work. We are going to try to beat the record of the ‘Georgia’ this time, providing we have no accidents. That is the main reason why I am so anxious about the weather.”

At last they reached a sheltered spot, anchors were let go and the battleship swung about, facing into the rolling sea.

That night the Battleship Boys lost no time in turning in after taps had been sounded. The ship was rolling more gently now, just enough to lull them into a sound sleep, their hammocks swaying slightly under the battleship’s motion.

How long they had been asleep they did not know. All of a sudden Dan uttered a shout and Sam sprang up, as did many others in the corridor.

“Pipe down the racket,” growled several voices.

“What’s the matter? Is that you, Dan!” called Sam, observing, in the faint light, that his companion was not near him.

“Yes,” answered a muffled voice from below.

“What’s the trouble, did you fall out of bed?”

“I don’t know. I guess I did.”

“Hurt you any?”

“Hurt me? Every bone in my body is broken.”

“Will you rookies shut up and let the rest of us go to sleep, or must we come down there and thump you?” demanded a shipmate from his hammock.

“We are not rookies,” protested Sam indignantly. “We are ordinary seamen.”

“My hammock is down,” complained Dan.

“Then why don’t you use more care in putting it up? Hurry and get it in place before any of the sentries pass here. We, or rather you, will get on the report if they discover you with your hammock down.”

“I can’t put it up?”

“Why not?”

“I’m hurt.”

Sam was down out of his hammock instantly.

“Where are you hurt?”

“My wrist. I think I have broken it. I must have twisted it under me when I fell.”

“Then go to the surgeon at once.”

“No; not until morning.”

The wrist hung limp and Dan seemed unable to use it at all.

“That’s too bad,” exclaimed Sam, his voice full of concern. “You wait until I fix your hammock; then I will help you up.”

“No, I can’t do it, Sam. I never could get up there,” complained the lad, holding his wrist, which was paining him dreadfully.

Dan dragged himself to where his hammock was hanging by one end, the other end lying on the deck.

“It’s curious. I can’t understand it at all.”

“What is?”

“I know I triced that up properly last night. I cannot understand how it ever came down.”

Dan stooped over, picking up the ends of the rope that had secured the hammock to its hooks. He examined the ends as closely as possible with one hand injured.

“Look here, Sam,” he said, with a trace of excitement in his tone.

“What is it!”

“Just examine this rope and see what you make of it?”

Sam did so.

“It has been broken, that is all I can discover.”

“Then your eyesight must have gone back on you. There is more to it than that. Don’t you see anything else wrong with those lashings?”

“I do not.”

“Well, I do.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that my hammock lashings have been cut. See those strands there? Well, they have been half severed with a knife. It was intended that they should not give way at once, but that they should let me down some time in the night.”

“You—you don’t mean it? Yes, you are right. They have been cut. Who could have done such a dastardly thing? Why, you might have killed yourself.”

Hickey uttered a low growl.

“I don’t know who did it,” muttered Davis, “but if I do find out there will be a real fight on board this ship, and that without the formality of a referee.”

“Dan this must be reported at once to the proper person.”

“I shall report to no——”

“You must report to the sentry on duty outside without delay. If you do not, I’ll do it myself. There will be an investigation over this, and there ought to be.”

“There’ll be something more than an investigation, I reckon,” muttered Seaman Davis, moving toward the deck, still holding his injured wrist.

CHAPTER XX—OUT ON THE MINE FIELD

The surgeon examined it carefully.

“You have broken two small bones in the wrist. How did you do it?”

The lad explained.

“Very well, I shall have to put you on the binnacle list to-day. You will not be able to do any heavy work with that hand for some days to come.”

“I do not wish to go on the binnacle list,” replied the lad promptly.

“You don’t wish to?”

“No, sir.”

“Then you are different from most sailors. They all pull the list on the slightest pretext, some under no pretext at all. Why are you so particular?” questioned the surgeon, his curiosity aroused by the unusual objection on the boy’s part.

“I expect to have duties to perform.”

“What are they?”

“Mine work.”

“You will not be able to work on mines to-day. I shall not permit it,” decided the surgeon firmly.

“I hope to go out as a signal man. I can do that, can I not?”

“You might, but I shall advise against it.”

“Please do not tell the officers that,” pleaded Dan. “I want to go. It is my first chance to prove that I am good for anything at all. I have made a mess of almost everything I have tried so far.”

“I hear differently.”

Somehow the earnest young seaman seemed to appeal to the sympathies of the surgeon. He was different from the others; perhaps that was the reason.

“From what I have heard I judge that you already have distinguished yourself,” smiled the doctor.

“How so, sir?”

“In the little argument you had with Able Seaman Kester, for instance.”

Dan flushed.

“May I go out with the mines, sir?” he asked hurriedly.

“Yes; I’ll let you go, but I shall have to put you on the report. First, let me bind the wrist up and splint it. Be as careful of the injured member as possible. You are liable to do still further damage if you subject the wrist to any sudden strain.”

“I’ll be careful, sir.”

After bandaging the wrist, the surgeon allowed his patient to go. On his morning report to the captain, giving the list of sick and injured, the surgeon made the following notation:

“Ordinary Seaman Daniel Davis, bones of wrist fractured, said to have been sustained by fall from hammock. Refuses to take sick leave or be placed on binnacle list, saying he has important duties to perform.”

A smile of approval appeared on the face of the captain when he read the notation.

“The boy is all right. He will do all right. I must keep my eye on him to see that he does not get sidetracked in the wrong direction.”

Calling his orderly the captain said:

“Tell the officer of the deck that Ordinary Seaman Davis is to be excused from heavy duty to-day. He will go out with the mine boats in the capacity of signalman. Tell the officer of the deck to give the proper orders and to have Davis notified.”

The orderly saluted and retired to carry out the orders of the commanding officer.

“I wish there were more such in the Navy,” mused the captain.

With a great rattle and bang the mines were being hoisted to the deck from somewhere far down in the ship. Neither lad ever had seen mines before, and both were curious to know all about them.

Many men now being at work on the quarter-deck, Sam among the number, Dan was at liberty to go there and watch the work.

The mines were spherical, made of steel and hollow. They were about two feet in diameter, bolted in the middle. The mine men were now at work taking the mines apart.

Inside the sphere was a can of wet guncotton, with an opening left for a charge of dry guncotton, which is put in place when the mines are being laid for an actual enemy. This was the only part of the operation that was to be omitted in the practice work, there being no necessity for so dangerous an operation.

The quarter-deck of the battleship, with all the apparatus strewn over it, somewhat resembled a wreck. Down by the sides of the ship all the boats had been drawn up ready to receive the heavy mines. In the meantime the navigator had gone out in the motor boat to take bearings and place buoys showing where the mines were to be dropped.

“Stand by to launch mines,” came the command at last.

The signal was given by a bugle call. Everyone was on edge, for the time required to put the mines over into the small boats was to be taken and would count on the record.

The Battleship Boys climbed over the side with their signal flags, each dropping into a whale boat, though the operation proved a severe strain on Dan’s injured wrist.

“Launch mines!”

The signal was blown loud and clear.

Crash after crash followed the bugle’s command, as steel met steel when the mines were clamped together.

“Silence!” roared the executive officer as the men began shouting in their excitement.

As fast as the mines were bolted together they were rolled to the side of the ship. There tackle was quickly hooked to them, then at command the heavy spheres were swung over the side, being carefully lowered to the boats below. There they were hung over the opposite sides of the small boats, one mine balancing the other. This would make placing the mines much easier than if they were to be taken over into the boats, for in that case they would have to be lifted out.

In an incredibly short time every one of the sixteen deadly implements of warfare was on the boats. Each boat held either an ensign or a midshipman, who was in command.

Sam was in one of the large whaleboats, while Dan occupied the wherry with an ensign and an oarsman.

“Three minutes, lads,” came the information from the deck.

The jackies sent up a cheer that might have been heard far over the sunlit sea. The morning was a glorious one, the sea having quieted down to a sluggish roll that scarcely disturbed the ship at all, though the small boats bobbed about somewhat, thus giving more zest to the work.

“Lay mines,” came the command.

Half a hundred hardy tars bent themselves to the oars and the fleet of boats slipped away from the towering sides of the “Long Island,” the men pulling for the mine field off to the southeast.

Each Battleship Boy carried a spy glass under his arm. Now and then he would place it to his eye for a long look at the ship.

“The ship is making signals, sir,” Dan informed the ensign in command of his boat.

“What do they want?”

“They are saying that whaleboat number two is off its course, sir. Orders, sir, to bear more to the southwest.”

“Wherry, there,” spelled Dan. “That’s us.” He acknowledged the signal.

“Pull up. Wherry lagging behind!”

Dan translated the message to his superior officer. The lad was glad that it was not he who was tugging at the oars, for the perspiration was dripping from the face of the oarsman by this time.

As each boat reached the buoy where it was to locate its mine, the men would toss their oars as a signal that they were ready. Some time was required for all the boats to get in their proper places.

In the meantime Dan Davis was standing up in the wherry with his flag ready for signaling. At last the oars in each boat of the fleet were tossed, which means held upright.

“Ready,” wig-wagged the Battleship Boy.

He held his flag high above his head with one hand—the injured one—the other hand holding the spy glass to his eye watching the signal halyards of the battleship.

A flag fluttered to the breeze on the ship. Instantly Dan dipped his own signal flag.

A splash from a cutter, followed by a series of splashes from the other boats of the little fleet, told him that the mines were going overboard.

The second leg of the contest against time was on. Sam Hickey sat in the whaleboat irritated because he had had little or nothing to do. Had he but known it, however, there was plenty of opportunity ahead of him to enable the lad to show the stuff he was made of.

CHAPTER XXI—BREAKING THE RECORD

The “Long Island,” expressed her congratulations in three long blasts of her siren, at which the jackies set up another cheer. This time the cheer reached to the ship itself.

“Battleship making signal of general recall, sir,” Dan informed his superior.

“Return to ship,” shouted the officer through his megaphone.

All boats were now turned back. The mines were to be left as they were until later in the day, or perhaps until the next day, when they would be taken up. As a general rule planted mines are left out for twenty-four hours.

Good time was made on the return, for it was nearly time for the noonday mess, and every man in the outfit had a sharpened appetite after the morning’s exertions.

Reaching the ship, the men piled over the side to the quarter-deck, where a number of the officers were gathered. The men were called to attention on the quarter-deck. Stepping out before them, the captain said:

“You have done well, lads. If you do as well in taking up the mines, our record will stand a long time before it is beaten. I congratulate you all, and I have also sent a wireless message to the admiral telling him of your good work.”

The bugle blew for dinner and all hands hurried to the mess rooms, where they were left undisturbed for the next hour. This is one of the few hours in the sailor’s day when he is never disturbed, except in case of emergency.

The moment the sailors sit down to their meals the little triangular red flag mounts quickly up the signal halyard, where it is left fluttering to the breeze until the meal is finished. That, also, is one hour of the day when visitors are not welcomed aboard ship.

Dinner over, the smoke lamp was lit for half an hour, when all hands lounged about decks, many smoking and telling stories. The jackies were unusually jubilant on this sunny afternoon, for they had set a mark in mine planting that would make their companions on the other ships of the service more than envious.

Suddenly a bugle trilled out the strains of an order.

“Mine crews take to the boats!” bellowed a boatswain’s mate.

The jackies uttered a shout. In a moment the scene of quiet on the forecastle was changed into one of quick action. White-clad figures were running and leaping for the quarter-deck, whence they boarded the small boats. This was the landing place, the quarter-deck being lower than any other part of the ship.

The men who had been tending the small boats trailing out astern of the battleship had quickly propelled their craft alongside and were lying in readiness to take the crews on board.

The jackies piled over the sides of the ship noisily, the officers making no attempt to check their enthusiasm, well realizing that it was because the men were in great haste to get out to the mine field and get the mines up in record-breaking time.

Dan Davis and Sam Hickey were well up with the first to reach the quarter-deck, though Dan was obliged to favor his lame wrist, now paining him severely. This delayed him somewhat in getting down the sea ladder, performing the feat with one free hand being rather awkward.

“Hurry up, elephant feet,” shouted a voice from above.

“Come on, don’t be all day about it,” urged a companion from below. At the same instant some one grabbed Dan’s feet, giving him a violent tug, which brought him down in a hurry. Dan landed across one of the seats in the whaleboat with his injured hand doubled under him.

He felt sure he heard the wrist snap. The pain was almost unbearable.

“That’s the way to get down when you are in a hurry, and especially when some one else is in more of a hurry than you are.”

The boy’s face was pale, but despite the pain in his wrist he smiled bravely as he climbed into the wherry moored alongside.

“What’s the matter with the hand?”

“I broke my wrist this morning,” answered Dan coolly. “That’s all. Nothing very much.”

“Did you hurt it again just now?” demanded the jackie who had pulled him down.

“I may have broken a few bones more or less, but don’t let a little thing like that worry you. ‘Pills’ can patch it up when we get back. Not a word,” warned Dan, with sudden interest as he saw the jackie preparing to speak to the ensign in charge of the boat. Dan did not relish the thought of being ordered back to the ship.

“Just as you say, matey. You’ve got the grit. I ought not to have yanked you down that way, but I didn’t know.”

“That’s all right,” smiled Dan.

“Take up mines,” blew the bugle.

“Cast off,” commanded the coxswains of the various boats, whereupon all the small boats seemed to leap clear of the ship.

Dan, in his small wherry, was lagging behind as usual. In his case the boat had only one oarsman, while the other boats had several, but the single oarsman did very well. The tide was running in, which helped them all more or less.

The boy was holding his wrist, the pain growing more and more severe as the moments passed. By this time the wrist had begun to swell until the bandage about it fairly cut into the flesh.

“I hope I shall be able to stand it until I get back,” he muttered. “I guess I’ll have to, unless I jump overboard.”

Leaning over the side he trailed the hand in the cool water, which seemed to relieve the pain a little.

Reaching the mine field, the boats quickly took their various stations, and the men, resting on their oars, awaited the command, “Take up mines.”

The command came a few minutes later.

How the jackies did work! The great spheres came up dripping from the salt sea, and in much quicker time than they had been planted.

“We have broken all records now for sure. Three minutes flat! Signal the ship,” ordered the officer in command.

Dan wig-wagged the time, and the boats started away with the mines hanging over the sides, the jackies singing as they pulled lustily for home.

All at once there was a loud splash from whaleboat number two, the boat lurched heavily, the weight of the mine on the opposite side pulling it over.

Hickey, who was standing up watching the ship for signals, went overboard head first. The mine on the opposite side, slipping its fastenings, had gone to the bottom in three fathoms of water.

But the red head of Sam Hickey appeared above the surface of the water almost at once. He struck out for the boat, blowing the water from mouth and nose, while his companions shouted encouraging words to him.

Several made ready to go overboard to the lad’s rescue, but as soon as he was able to free his mouth and nose of water he called to them not to do so. Despite the severe effort of swimming against a strong tide, Hickey finally made the boat, though well-nigh exhausted when at last he stretched up his hands, grasping the gunwale of the whaleboat. The jackies hauled him in, joking over his misfortune.

“Didn’t soak the color out of your hair, did it, red-head?”

“No; all fast colors, warranted not to run,” retorted Sam quickly.

In the meantime, Dan Davis was standing up in the little wherry making efforts to attract the attention of the battleship. At last he succeeded in doing so.

“Mine number six gone overboard,” he wig-wagged.

“How much water?” asked the battleship.

“Three and a half fathoms.”

“Ask for orders,” commanded the officer in charge.

“Orders?” signaled Dan.

“Wherry lay to, to locate the mine. All other boats come in.”

“I understand,” answered Dan.

“Signaling again, sir,” informed Dan.

“What do they say?”

“They have ordered that the signalman from the whaleboat number two remain here in the wherry, sir.”

“Very well, call the signalman from whaleboat number two. We shall have this wherry so heavily loaded that she’ll sink if we get in much of a seaway.”

Dan wig-wagged with his sound hand to the whaleboat, giving the orders to Hickey to join him in the wherry. The officer in charge of the whaleboat grumbled at being thus obliged to turn back and travel some distance to reach the wherry. The latter had by this time cast out an anchor so as to hold the boat in place near the spot where the mine had gone down.

“What is this for?” demanded Sam, clambering over into the wherry, his clothes still wet and dripping.

“I did not think best to ask the captain for his reasons for giving the orders,” answered Dan, with a meaning smile.

“I didn’t mean that. Look out, the ship is making signals. Why don’t you tend to your business?” demanded Sam.

Dan’s spyglass quickly went to his eye. He lowered the glass after a moment, turning to the officer in command of the wherry.

“Diver coming out to go down for the mine, sir.”

“Very good. I knew they would send out a diver.”

“Is he going to dive for it?” questioned Sam, a new interest showing in his eyes.

“Yes; he will go down in one of those diving suits we saw on deck this morning. Did you never see a diver at work?”

“Never,” answered Sam. “I should like to.”

“You will have the opportunity very soon.”

“I think the boat is coming over there now, sir,” added Dan, addressing the ensign.

“Cast the lead line over and see if you can locate the mine, lads.”

They could not. In a short time the boat with the diver and diving apparatus pulled up and began getting ready for work.

“Look,” whispered Dan.

The diver was none other than Bill Kester, his face swathed in plaster, his eyes scowling menacingly as he recognized the Battleship Boys.

CHAPTER XXII—BURIED THREE FATHOMS DEEP

“Taking the bearing from our present position, a line drawn from the lighthouse to the battleship, crossed by a line from our wherry to that bluff yonder, would mark the location of the mine at the crossing point, sir.”

The ensign glanced at the young seaman quizzically.

“Very well done, my lad. You have the making of a first-class navigator in you. Keep on and you will do well. Always use your eyes, and your head as well, as you have done this afternoon and there will be no doubt about it.”

“Thank you, sir,” answered the boy, his face glowing with pride.

By this time the men were laying out the diving suit for the diver, the hideous-looking helmet having been placed on the stern seat of the cutter that had brought them over.

“Sound for that mine before you put the diver over,” commanded the ensign. “No use bottling the man up until you are ready to send him down.”

“This helmet is not fit to use, sir,” spoke up one of the diver’s assistants.

“What is the matter with it?”

“It leaks. See?” He held up the helmet, which he had partially filled with water, for the inspection of the officer.

“It has lain out on deck too long. The sun has checked it,” continued the man.

“It should be your business to see that the sun did not check it. I shall have to place you on the report,” replied the officer.

“I was ordered to get the apparatus on deck this morning, sir.”

“Davis, signal the ship to send out another diving suit. Tell them this one is out of order.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“Ask them to send it out in a hurry, for the wind is coming up. I fear we shall have some rough water. Hickey, sit up there. Don’t you know it is against the regulations to lounge about in the small boats? I am surprised at you.”

Sam’s face flushed. He sat up, gripping his signal staff half angrily. He made no complaint, but saluted. Sam was not in the best of humor at this moment. He took an instant and violent dislike for the young officer who had rebuked him.

Dan, in the meanwhile, was wig-wagging to the ship, sending the request for another diving suit.

A few moments later, as he peered through the spy glass, he saw a boat starting off in their direction.

“Motor boat under way. I think she is coming with the diving suit, sir,” Davis called.

“Very good. Have you located that mine yet, men?”

“I think we have, sir.”

“Then hold it. Do not let it get away from you. We shall remain on the anchorage here until you get your anchor down.”

As soon as this had been done the wherry moved up closer, keeping just far enough away to avoid interfering with the diver when he got at his work on the bottom of the sea.

Immediately upon the arrival of the motor boat the men began hurriedly assisting Kester on with his diving suit, for it was getting late, and the wind was freshening considerably.

“All ready to put the diver overboard, sir.”

“Very good. Make sure that all is well before doing so.”

“All is in proper condition.”

The diver, as he stood waiting for the order to descend, appeared in his diving suit like some strange and hideous monster from the deep. Sam gazed at him in wide-eyed wonder.

“Then put him over.”

A splash followed, the diver disappearing beneath the water, while the diver’s assistants rapidly paid out the rubber tubing and the ropes attached to the diver’s costume.

“Bottom, sir,” announced the man at the ropes.

“Watch his signals.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

There followed several minutes of tense waiting, the rhythmic “clank!” “clank!” of the apparatus that supplied the diver with fresh air being the only sound save the lapping of the water to break the stillness.

“He’s found the mine, sir,” called the diver’s assistant.

“Very good. Davis, signal the ship that we have located the mine.”

Dan stood up, flashing the message through with a few swift dips of the signal flag. Sam wondered how they knew the man, Kester, had found what he was in search of. What he did not know was that the men in the other boat were able to hold a limited conversation with the diver by means of a signal rope, certain jerks meaning certain words or questions.

“The mine is secured, sir,” called the assistant.

This meant that the diver had succeeded in making fast to the lost mine one of the ropes that he had taken down with him.

“Shall we raise the mine first before getting Kester up, sir?”

“By all means. He has not asked to be brought up, has he?”

“No, sir.”

“Haul away, then, lads.”

A warning signal was sent to the man below, after which the assistants in the boat began pulling and tugging at the rope attached to the mine.

Evidently the mine was imbedded in the sandy bottom, for it refused to move, the men jerking this way and that to free it from its resting place.

All at once it did come away, and with a suddenness that caused the men to sit down in the bottom of the boat, losing control of the line.

“Clumsy! Look out or you will lose it again,” cautioned the ensign.

Quickly pulling themselves up, they began hauling in on the line. Very slowly the sphere moved upward, at last appearing above the surface of the water, shining and almost menacing Dan thought as he gazed at the object.

“Now be careful in getting it over the side,” warned the officer.

The diver had put what he considered to be a strong hitch on the mine with the end of the hauling rope. On account of the depth at which he was working, however, the darkness compelled him to operate solely by the sense of feeling.

The mine was now swaying on the gunwale of the rolling small boat, the waves from the rising sea breaking over into the cutter as well as into the other boat, until the men were standing in the salt brine.

“Look out! There she goes!”

With a great splash the mine struck the water, having slipped its lashings, and quickly sank out of sight.

“Warn the diver!” shouted the ensign.

A jerk on the signal cord conveyed the message that the mine was falling toward him.

“Does he answer?”

“No, sir.”

“Quick! Give him another warning!”

“He does not answer, sir.”

“There goes the signal line! It’s fouled, sir!”

A violent wrench on the supporting line with which the diver was to be hoisted to the surface tore it loose from its fastening on board the diver’s boat.

“The line’s gone, sir!”

All hands were standing up in the rocking boats. The sky had suddenly become overcast and spray was dashing over them in blinding sheets.

Sam stood as if dazed. He did not catch the full significance of the scene, but his mind was working. Like a flash it dawned upon him.

“There goes the air tube. That settles him, sir!”

“What does it mean?” stammered Sam.

“The diver is drowning three fathoms under the sea. Nothing can save him,” groaned some one.

An instant of silence followed.

Dan threw up his flag signaling, “accident.”

Then a body flashed through the air. The dazed spectators caught sight of a white service uniform, as the intrepid Dan Davis plunged into the sea, disappearing beneath the waves.

Sam’s flagstaff struck the gunwale with a bang an instant later, toppled over and was quickly carried away. Ere it had reached the water, however, the second Battleship Boy had leaped to the bow of the boat and before they could utter a word of warning, he had followed his chum Davis with a long, clean dive into the ocean.