CHAPTER XI

IN THE FOG

Completely blinded by the fire from the wounded German birdman, the Dewey now had but one alternative. The approach of other air raiders made it necessary for the submarine to dive away into the depths to safety. To linger longer on the surface was but to court the continued fire of the birdmen overhead who apparently were incensed over the wounding of their companion craft and out for revenge.

Reluctantly, but yielding to his better judgment, McClure gave orders to submerge. At the same time the damaged periscopes were cut off in the conning tower to prevent an inflow of water when the ship dived.

"Too bad to quit right now; but it would be folly to stand out under those deadly bombs any longer," he said.

Fortunately, the Dewey was equipped with reserve periscope tubes, and Lieutenant McClure's plan now was to wait until the convenient darkness of night had mantled the ocean and then ascend to repair at leisure the damaged "eyes."

"Might as well make ourselves comfortable here awhile under the water," suggested "Little Mack."

Jean Cartier was instructed to extend himself for the evening meal and to draw on the ship's larder for an "extra fine dinner." It being the first night of the Dewey's renewed cruise the ship's galley was well stocked with fresh foods. Chops, baked potatoes, hot tea and rice pudding represented the menu selected by Jean, and soon the odor of the savory food had every mother's son smacking his lips in anticipation of a luxurious "chow" to top off the exciting events of the evening.

Seventy feet below the surface of the water, immune from hostile attacks, officers and crew sat down to the repast as safe and secure as though in a banquet hail on shore. Wit and laughter accompanied the courses, and, as the submarine dinner was concluded, Bill Witt's banjo was produced. Soon the ship resounded to the "plink-plunk-plink" of the instrument and the gay songs of the jolly submarine sailors.

"If they could only see us now at Brighton!" laughed Ted, as he surveyed the scene admiringly.

Jack grew reminiscent.

"Remember that last dinner at Brighton?" he asked. "Fellows all wishing us good luck and cheering for us out on the campus? And good old 'prexie' declaring he expected to hear great things of his boys in the war? And all of them standing on the dormitory steps singing 'Fair Brighton' as we headed for the depot?"

Ted remembered it all now only too plainly. Good old Brighton! Back there now under the oaks on the campus, or up in the dormitories, the boys were assembled again for the fall term.

But this was not the time for backward glances. Grim work lay ahead of them.

An hour later preparations were made to ascend and repair the damaged periscopes. In response to a query from the ship's commander, Sammy Smith said he could find no trace of any nearby or approaching vessels, although he had given the submarine telephone its best test.

Gradually the Dewey came to the surface as the ballast tanks were emptied. The hatch was thrown open and the Dewey's commander raised himself to get a line on his surroundings.

A dense fog had commenced to settle over the water, blotting out the stars and making a mist that hung over the sea like a great gray blanket.

"Could not be better for our purposes had it been made to order," smiled McClure, as he gave orders for the repair crew to haul out the reserve periscopes and get busy.

It was impossible to see more than a hundred yards from the sides of the Dewey in any direction, and there appeared nothing but the rolling swell of the ocean. Nevertheless, overlooking no precaution, McClure gave orders for all lights to be dimmed amidships. In the darkness the crew went to work to substitute the new "eyes" of the ship for the damaged tubes, climbing out on the superstructure and working energetically.

Just as the forward periscope was being lowered into position and secured, Commander McClure, supervising the work, was startled by a voice out of the fog, a stentorian challenge through a megaphone, that seemed almost on top of the submarine.

"What ship is that?" came the call in German.

For a moment it seemed that some one on the deck of the submarine must be playing a prank on his friends. But Bill Witt, who was doing lookout duty forward, declared that the cry was right at hand and apparently from the deck of a warship.

Whispering to the repair crew to go quickly below McClure addressed himself to the unknown voice in his best Deutsch.

"Dis iss das unterseeboot nein und zwanzig."

For a moment there was a deathless silence. Then again the heavy voice to port:

"You speck not the truth. U-boat 29 is in der Kiel Canal. You are
English or Yankee. We call on you to surrender!"

McClure's answer was to slam down the lid of the conning tower and ring for full speed in the engine room. Instantly he switched the rudder to starboard as the Dewey's propeller blades began to turn.

"Dive!" yelled the commander to his navigating officer, as he himself slanted the submerging rudders.

Almost at the same moment the German warship's powerful searchlights turned full upon the American submarine. Then came a great spit of fire from a battery aboard the enemy vessel followed by the roar of her guns and a salvo of shots.

"It's no use, boys," said the submarine commander to his officers. "They have us trapped. Unless we surrender here we are going to be blown out of the water in short order. We cannot submerge quick enough to avoid that terrible gunfire."

Again and a shot from the enemy, and this time it struck in the water just in front of the conning tower and flung a great spray that blinded the portholes.

The Dewey was just starting to submerge. With her diving rudders inclined, the ship was tilted now until her bow pointed downward and her stern reared up out of the water. She was shipping ballast in her tanks rapidly, but the process was necessarily slow and, even with her improved equipment, it must be one and a half to two minutes before the hull could be submerged, let alone the conning tower.

"Hold her right there!" suddenly shouted the young lieutenant to his navigating officer.

The latter was for a moment completely dumbfounded by the order.

"What—-you don't mean—-why—-" he started to say, but instantly withheld his speech at the frowning face of his superior officer.

"Up with that hatch!" the Dewey's commander thundered, as his executive officer stood aghast at the reckless procedure.

The latter hastened, however, to comply with the order.

"Wainwright!" shouted Lieutenant McClure.

Ted jumped into the conning tower beside his commander.

"You have already shown your bravery," began McClure hurriedly. "Here's another test for you. Climb through the conning tower, run forward and dive off the bow. But, first of all, grab a life-belt and strap it to you. Don't ask questions. Have confidence in me. When you get in the water, work your way rapidly around the bow of the Dewey to starboard. Float there in the shadow of our hull. Keep close up. All will be well in a moment."

Obeying orders implicitly, Ted was strapping on the life-preserver.

"Ready?" called McClure.

Ted saluted.

"Right—-go!" shouted the commander of the Dewey.