CHAPTER XIII

THE SURVIVORS

Jack's knees sagged for a moment and it seemed his heart stood still.
His old Brighton chum and good old Bill Witt still unaccounted for!
Out there in the dark and the water somewhere they were floating alone!

Then he heard "Little Mack" speaking.

"We'll stay right here until we find them," he was saying.

Megaphones were brought on deck and the Dewey's officers began calling into the darkness of the sea. Another searchlight was run up through the stern hatch and affixed aft to sweep the sea from that end of the vessel. For a time there was no response to their calls; then, when it seemed that all hope had fled, there came a hoarse cry, now seeming far away, now closer and louder.

"Something there to starboard just off our bow!" shouted Jack, who had climbed up on the conning tower.

McClure directed that both searchlights be flashed in the direction of the muffled calls and was rewarded by the faint outlines of a small boat buffeted about in the water like a cork.

"Well, they are not our boys," said the Dewey's skipper listlessly.
Then, taking Jack's megaphone, he shouted: "Who are you?"

A tail, gaunt figure loomed up in the bow of the lifeboat. He was waving a life-belt frantically with an appealing gesture for aid.

"Survivors from der German gunboat Strassburg," came the reply in broken English.

McClure ordered them to come alongside and cautioned his men to be on guard against any surprise attack.

Out of the gloom came the lifeboat like a weird specter, propelled by the sweeping oars of half a dozen frantically working seamen. It was crowded with a motley crew of bedraggled sailors. They presented a pitiable spectacle as their craft slowly made its way toward the Dewey and into the bright rays from the searchlights.

"We have two of your men in here," shouted the leader of the party, who was evidently an officer of the sunken warship. At the same time two boys well to the stern waved their arms frantically toward the group on the conning tower of the Dewey.

"Here I am, Jack, and Bill Witt is right with me," came the familiar voice of Ted Wainwright.

"Hurrah!" the cry arose from the deck of the American submersible. Overcome with joy, Jack could scarce restrain his emotions as he clutched the periscope pole and shielded his eyes with his other hand to make sure that his ears had not deceived him. Yes, it was Ted—-and there was Bill just behind him!

Making its way clumsily forward, the boat finally drew up alongside.
Willing hands helped Ted and Bill up the steep side of the Dewey
and they were tendered such a reception as they had never known before.
Then ensued a parley between the petty officer of the sunken gunboat
Strassburg and the commander of the Dewey.

"We are very happy to be your prisoners, under the circumstances," began the German officer in his best English.

"I thank you for rescuing my men," said McClure. "Sorry I can't take you aboard, but I'll tow you to the Dutch coast or transfer you to the first inbound trader. Satisfactory?"

"Thank you, sir," said the German.

Before making fast the towline from the lifeboat to the stern of the Dewey for the journey toward the coast McClure had Jean Cartier and his commissary assistant bring up pots of steaming hot coffee and dole it out to the forlorn Teutons.

Jack went below with Ted and Bill Witt to hear the story of their escape. It appeared that they had floated around together in the dark; had witnessed the sinking of the gunboat Strassburg and, when it went down, had been caught in the swell of the water and carried far from the lights of the Dewey. They had seen the submarine when it turned on its powerful searchlights.

"Bill and I thought we were done for," said Ted between gulps of coffee. "We had just about given up for good. We tried to swim, but our clothes and the life-belts weighed us down, and our legs and arms were so cramped we couldn't make any headway. Then while we were trying to keep our eyes on the faint lights of the Dewey, what should we see but a boat steering right at us! Without any words, the Germans stooped right down and dragged us into their boat. None of us could see each other very well, but we soon made out they were Germans. They discovered our nationality about the same time and they wouldn't believe us when we told them we were from the U.S. submarine that had sunk them."

"Did they try anything rough on you?" put in Jack.

"No," continued Ted, "they were so thankful to be in that boat instead of floundering in the sea they didn't care much about anything else. When we told them our vessel was somewhere close by they wouldn't believe it until we showed them the faint streaks of light from the Dewey through the fog. Then Bill Witt told them they would stand a better chance for their lives if they got in touch with the American submarine. They parleyed a while over that and finally decided they would take Bill's tip. That's how we got up within range of you fellows and got back here again. We might have floated around all night and been picked up in the morning and then again we might not."

"Well, I'm glad you're back again, chum," added Jack with an affectionate hug. He now hurried back to the conning tower to be within call of his commanders. The Dewey was headed due east; running on the surface, with her boatload of prisoners trailing behind.

Two hours' running brought the Dewey within the ten-mile zone of the Dutch coast, and suddenly she ran into the hail of a huge brigantine that appeared to be becalmed. She lay quiet in the water without a tangible sign of life except her binnacle lights.

Watchful against any deception, McClure ordered the gun crews on deck and the "Twins" ready for action. Then he challenged the sailing craft.

The answer came in German. Likely the watch thought his vessel had been approached by a U-boat of the Central Powers. Challenged again in English, the fellow went below and returned in a moment with an English-speaking companion. Lieutenant McClure briefly made known his desire to turn over the German prisoners.

"But we don't want them," came the reply.

Jack and Ted, standing out on deck together, grinned. This seemed so unlike Dutch hospitality.

"Holland doesn't seem to be so fond of Germans, does she?" joked Jack.

"Can't much blame them," Ted replied soberly. "They have enough mouths of their own to feed without any more outsiders."

Lieutenant McClure insisted, however, on putting the Germans aboard the brigantine and finally won out. The lifeboat went alongside and the Dewey stood by until every Teuton had climbed up the side.

"Auf Wiedersehen and thank you, sir," called the German officer as the Dewey backed away and turned her nose out to sea again.

The days that followed were crowded with colorful incidents for the band of Americans aboard the gallant little submarine. With the arrival of Uncle Sam's submarines in the North Sea and their active participation in the warfare against the Imperial German Navy the forages of the cruiser and destroyer raiders out of Wilhelmshaven and other German ports were decreasing in number.

The Belgian coast is but forty-two miles long, extending from Zeebrugge at the northern extremity to Ostend—-the Atlantic City of Belgium—-at the south, but there are a number of tiny harbors along the strip of coastline, and these were infested by the light draft German warships, particularly the destroyers. The American submarines in particular were directing their attention toward these destroyers and seeking to kill them off as they dashed out of their "fox holes" for flying attacks against the allied navies.

One night, after a quiet day on patrol off the Belgian coast, the Dewey settled for the night close to shore at a point about five miles southwest of the Belgian coast town of Blankenberghe, a tiny fishing port with a small and almost land-locked harbor. It was a strategic position directly on the course that would be taken by German destroyers out of Zeebrugge bound for a raid off Dunkirk or Calais. Lying under the sea, the Dewey could hear approaching vessels.

Furthermore, Lieutenant McClure had reason to believe that German destroyers were making a rendezvous of the little harbor of Blankenberghe. He was determined to find out and to "get somebody."

Jack was on duty in the conning tower and Executive Officer Cleary in the control chamber underneath. Floating here at a depth of one hundred and ten feet the Dewey was to spend the night resting and with a vigilant ear for any passing vessels.

Thousands of miles from home, more then a hundred feet deep down in the North Sea, bottled up in a submarine while the rest of his churns slept peacefully as though at home in their beds, the Brighton boy sat alone in the conning tower of the submerged Dewey.

"Some difference between where I am now and where I was a year ago this time!" he was reflecting, when he heard the night wireless operator reporting to Executive Officer Cleary the approach of a vessel overhead.

Jack descended into the control chamber and, at Officer Cleary's direction, called Lieutenant McClure, who had turned in for several hours' rest, leaving instructions that he be aroused in case any ships were reported overhead.