Dave Darrin Omnibus

by

H. Irving Hancock

Book Index

Dave Darrin at Vera Cruz

Dave Darrin On Mediterranean Service

Dave Darrin's South American Cruise *

Dave Darrin On the Asiatic Station *

Dave Darrin and the German Submarines *

Dave Darrin After the Mine Layers

* These books are not currently available as eBooks. They will be added to this omnibus as and when released.

Dave Darrin at Vera Cruz

or

Fighting With the U.S. Navy in Mexico

Contents

I. Ready for Fight or Frolic

II. At the Mercy of a Bully

III. The Junior Worm Turns

IV. The Ward-Room Hears Real News

V. Watching and Waiting—Behind Big Guns

VI. First to Invade Mexico

VII. Dave Darrin to the Rescue

VIII. Disobedience of Orders

IX. Cantor Finds His Chance

X. Dave is Stung to the Quick

XI. A Brother Officer's Whisper

XII. The Man of the Evil Eye

XIII. "After the Rascal!"

XIV. A "Find" of a Bad Kind

XV. Ready for Vera Cruz

XVI. In the Thick of the Sniping

XVII. Mexicans Become Suddenly Meek

XVIII. In the House of Surprises

XIX. A Traitor in the Service

XX. The Skirmish at the Diligencia

XXI. A Rescue and a "Facer"

XXII. Playing Birdman in War

XXIII. The Dash for the Traitor

XXIV. Conclusion

I. Ready For Fight or Frolic

"Do you care to go out this evening, Danny boy?" asked Dave Darrin, stepping into his chum's room.

"I'm too excited and too tired," confessed Ensign Dalzell. "The first thing I want is a hot bath, the second, pajamas, and the third, a long sleep."

"Too bad," sighed Dave. "I wanted an hour's stroll along Broadway."

"Don't let my indolence keep you in," urged Dalzell. "If you're going out, then I can have the first hot bath, and be as long about it as I please. Then I'll get into pajamas and ready for bed. By that time you'll be in and we can say `good night' to each other."

"I feel a bit mean about quitting you," Dave murmured.

"And I feel a whole lot meaner not to go out with you," Dan promptly assured his chum. "So let's compromise; you go out and I'll stay in."

"That sounds like a very odd compromise," laughed Darrin. "On the whole, Dan, I believe I won't go out."

"If that's the way you feel," argued Dalzell, "then I'm going to change my mind and go out with you. I won't be the means of keeping you from your stroll."

"But you really don't want to go out," Dave objected.

"Candidly, I don't care much about going out; I want that bath and I'm tired. Yet in the good old cause of friendship—"

"Friendship doesn't enter in, here," Dave interposed. "Danny boy, you stay here in the hotel and have your bath, I'll go out and pay my very slight respects to Broadway. Doubtless, by the time you're in pajamas, I'll be back, and with all my longing for wandering satisfied."

"Then, if you really don't mind—"

"Not at all, old chap! So long! Back in a little while."

Through the bathroom that connected their two rooms at the Allsordia Hotel, Dave Darrin stepped into his own apartment.

Having donned coat and top-coat, Darrin picked up his new derby hat and stepped to his room door. In another half minute he was going down on the elevator. Then he stepped into the street.

Dave Darrin was young, healthy, happy, reasonably good-looking.

His top-coat and gray suit were well tailored. Yet, save for his erect, military carriage, there was nothing to distinguish him from the thousands of average well-dressed young men who thronged Broadway after dark on this evening in late March.

For perhaps fifteen blocks he strolled uptown. All that he saw on that gaily lighted main thoroughfare of New York was interesting.

It was the same old evening crowd, on pleasure bent.

Then, crossing over to the east side of Broadway, Dave sauntered slowly back.

Laughing girls eyed the young naval officer as he passed. Drivers of taxicabs looked the young man over speculatively, as though wondering whether he might be inveigled into going on a, to them, profitable round of New York's night sights. Human harpies, in the form of "confidence men"—swindlers on the lookout for prey—glanced but once at the young naval ensign, then looked away.

Dave Darrin's erect carriage, his clear steady eyes, his broad shoulders and evident physical mastery of himself made these swindlers hesitate at the thought of tackling him.

Through the occasionally opened doors of the restaurants came the sounds of music and laughter, but Dave felt no desire to enter.

He was several blocks on his homeward way, and was passing the corner of a side street quieter than the others, when he heard a woman's stifled cry of alarm.

Halting, bringing his heels together with a click, and throwing his shoulders back, Darrin stopped on the corner and looked down the street.

Five or six doors away, close to a building, stood a young woman of not more than twenty-two. Though she was strikingly pretty, Dave did not note that fact in the first glance. He saw, however, that she was well dressed in the latest spring garments, and that her pose was one of retreat from the man who stood before her.

That the man had the external appearance of the gentleman was the \ first fact Darrin observed.

Then he heard the young woman's indignant utterance:

"You coward!"

"That is a taunt not often thrown at me," the young man laughed, carelessly.

"Only a coward would attempt to win a woman's love by threats," replied the girl, more calmly, though bitterness rang in her tone.

"As for you, I wish to assure you that I am quite through with you!"

"Oh, no, you're not!" rejoined the annoyer, with the air of one who knows himself to be victor. "In fact, you will do very much as I wish, or your brother—"

"You coward!" spoke the girl, scornfully again.

"If your brother suffers, your pride will be in the dust," insisted the annoyer, "and, remember, I, alone, can save your brother from disgrace."

"I am not even going to ask you to do it," retorted the young woman. "And now our interview is over. I am going to leave you, and I shall not see you again. I——"

"Going to leave me, are you?" leered her tormentor. He stepped forward, holding out his hand, as though to seize the young woman's wrist, but she alertly eluded him.

"If you try again to touch me, or if you attempt to follow me," warned the young woman, "I shall appeal for assistance."

So absorbed were the disputants in their quarrel that neither had noticed Darrin, standing on the corner.

The tormentor's face flushed, then went white, "Make your appeal," he dared, "and see what happens!"

Again he attempted to take the girl by the wrist.

"Can I be of service, madam?" inquired Darrin, as he strode toward them.

Like a flash, the annoyer wheeled upon Darrin, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Young man," he warned, threateningly, "the best thing you can possibly do will be to make yourself scarce as quickly as possible.

As for this young woman——"

The tormentor moved a step nearer to the young woman, whose face had turned very pale.

Dave slipped quietly between them.

"As this young woman does not wish to talk with you," Darrin suggested,

"you may address all your remarks to me."

While the two young men stood eyeing each other Darrin noted that the young woman's annoyer was somewhat taller than himself, broader of shoulder and deeper of chest. He had the same confidence of athletic poise that Dave himself displayed. In a resort to force, it looked as though the stranger would have the better of it.

Yet this stranger seemed suddenly deprived of much of his assurance.

Plainly, there was some good reason why he did not wish to fight on this side street so close to Broadway.

"Madam," inquired Darrin, half turning, "may I have the pleasure of escorting you to your friends?"

"If you will call a taxi——" she began, eagerly.

At that moment a fareless taxicab turned the corner of Broadway and came slowly down the street.

"Hold on, chauffeur!" cried Darrin, in a voice of command. Then, as the cab stopped at the curb, Dave turned his back upon the tormentor for a moment, while he assisted the young woman into the taxicab.

"Do you feel satisfied to go without escort," asked Darrin, "or may I offer my services in seeing you safely to your home?"

"I shall be all right now," replied the young woman, the troubled look in her lustrous brown eyes vanishing as she favored her unknown defender with a smile. "If the driver will stop, two blocks from here, I will direct him where to take me."

"Step aside, boy!" ordered the unknown man, as he tried to brush Dave away and enter the cab.

It was no time for gentle measures. Ensign Darrin's right fist landed heavily on the face of the stranger, sending him prone to the sidewalk.

At a wave of Dave's hand the chauffeur started away. Scenting trouble, the chauffeur drove as fast as he could down the side street, making the round of the block, then heading into Broadway and going uptown, for the young woman had called out her destination.

As for the stranger whom Dave had knocked down, the fellow was on his feet like a flash. Ignoring Darrin, he tried to dash down the side street after the taxicab.

"Step back!" ordered Dave, catching hold of the fellow, and swinging him around. "You're not going to follow."

"I must have the number of that taxicab," cried the stranger, desperately.

"Too late," smiled Dave, as he saw the taxicab turn the next corner.

"You won't learn the number. I happened to see it, though," he added incautiously.

"Give it to me, then," commanded the other. "I'll overlook what you've done if you truthfully give me the number of that taxicab.

Find that girl I must, and as early as possible. Though I know her well, and her family, too, I do not know where to look for them in New York."

Dave, without a word, turned as though to walk toward Broadway.

"Give me that taxi's number," insisted the stranger.

"I won't," Dave returned, flatly.

"Give me that number, or——"

"Or what?" drawled Darrin halting and glancing contemptuously at the furious face before him.

"Or I'll pound the number out of you!" came the ugly challenge.

"Go ahead," Dave invited, coolly. "I don't mind a fight in the least, though perhaps you would, for I see a policeman coming up the street. He would be bound to arrest both of us. Perhaps you have better reasons than I have for not courting the activities of the police."

It was plain that a fearful, even though brief struggle, took place in the stranger's mind before he made reply to Dave's taunt.

"I'll find you again, and the next time you shall not get off so easily," muttered the other. "Depend upon it, I shall see you again!"

With that the stranger walked toward Broadway. Smiling, Dave strolled more slowly after him. By the time the naval ensign reached the corner of that great artery of human life, the stranger had lost himself in the crowds of people that thronged Broadway.

"If I see him again within twenty-four hours, I think I shall know him," laughed Darrin. "My first blow put a red welt on his cheek for purposes of identification."

Then Darrin finished his walk, turning in at the Allsordia.

Dan Dalzell had also finished his bath, and lounging comfortably in his pajamas, was reading a late edition of the evening newspaper.

"Have any fun?" asked Ensign Dalzell, glancing up.

"Just a little bit of a frolic," smiled Darrin, and told his chum what had happened.

"I'm glad you punched the scoundrel," flared Danny Grin.

"I couldn't do anything else," Dave answered soberly, "and if it weren't for the shame of treating a woman in such high-handed fashion as that fellow did, I'd look upon the whole affair as a pleasant diversion."

"So he's going to look for you and find you, then settle up this night's business with you, is he?" demanded Dalzell, with one of the grins that had made him famous. "Humph! If he finds you after ten o`clock to-morrow morning, it will be aboard one of our biggest battleships and among fifteen hundred fighting men."

"I'm afraid I shall never see him again," sighed Dave. "It's too bad, too, for I'm not satisfied with the one blow that I had the pleasure of giving him. I'd like to meet the fellow in a place where I could express and fully back up my opinion of him."

"I wonder if you'll ever meet him again?" mused Dalzell, aloud.

"It's not worth wondering about," Dave returned. "I must get into my bath now. I'll be out soon."

Fifteen minutes later Darrin looked into the room, saying good night to his chum. Then he retired to his own sleeping room; five minutes later he was sound asleep.

No strangers to our readers are Dave Darrin and Dan Dalzell "Darry" and "Danny Grin," as they were known to many of their friends.

As members of that famous schoolboy group known as Dick & Co. they were first encountered in the pages of the "Grammar School Boys Series." All our readers are familiar with the careers in sport and adventure that were achieved by those splendid Gridley boys, Dick Prescott, Dave Darrin, Greg Holmes, Dan Dalzell, Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton. The same boys, a little older and twice as daring, were again found in the pages of the "High School Boys Series," and then immediately afterward in the "High School Boys' Vacation Series." It was in the "Dick Prescott Christmas Series" that we found all six of our fine, manly young friends in the full flower of high school boyhood. A few months after that the six were separated.

The further fortunes of Dick Prescott and Greg Holmes are then found in the "West Point Series," while the careers of Darrin and Dalzell are set forth in the "Annapolis Series," just as the adventures of Reade and Hazelton are set forth in the "Young Engineers Series." At Annapolis, Darrin and Dalzell went through stirring times, indeed, as young midshipmen. Now, we again come upon them when they have become commissioned officers in the Navy. They are now seen at the outset of their careers as ensigns, ordered to duty aboard the dreadnought "Long Island" in the latter part of March, 1914.

Certainly the times were favorable for them to see much of active naval service, though as yet they could hardly more than guess the fact.

General Huerta, who had usurped the presidency of Mexico following the death—as suspected, by assassination—of the former president Madero—had not been recognized as president by the United States.

Some of Madero's friends and former followers, styling themselves the "Constitutionalists" had taken to the field in rebellion against the proclaimed authority of the dictator, Huerta. The two factions had long fought fiercely, and between the two warring parties that had rapidly reduced life in Mexico, to a state of anarchy, scores of Americans had been executed through spite, as it was alleged, and American women and children had also suffered at the hands of both factions.

Lives and property of citizens of European governments had been sacrificed, and now these European governments looked askance at the Washington government, which was expected to safeguard the rights of foreigners in Mexico.

To the disappointment and even the resentment of a large part of the people of the United States, the Washington government had moved slowly, expressing its hope that right would triumph in Mexico without outside armed interference.

This policy of the national administration had become known as watchful waiting. Many approved of it; other Americans demanded a policy of active intervention in Mexico to end the uncertainty and the misery caused by the helpless of many nations, who were ground between the opposing factions of revolution in Mexico.

With this brief explanation we will once more turn to the fortunes of Ensigns Dave and Dan.

At 6.45 the next morning the telephone bell began to tinkle in Dave's room. It continued to ring until Darrin rose, took down the receiver, and expressed, to the clerk, on duty below, his thanks for having been called.

"Turn out, Danny Grin!" Darry shouted from the bathroom. "Come, now, sir! Show a foot! Show a foot, sir!"

Drowsily, Dalzell thrust one bare foot out from under the sheet.

"Are you awake in sea-going order, sir?" Dave asked, jovially.

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Then remain awake, Mr. Dalzell, until I have been through the motions of a cold bath."

With that Darrin shut the door. From the bathroom came the sounds of a shower, followed by much splashing.

"Turn out the port watch, Mr. Dalzell," came, presently, through the closed bathroom door. "The bathroom watch is yours. Hose down, sir."

With that Dave stepped into his own room to dress. It was not long before the two young naval officers left their rooms, each carrying a suit case. To the top of each case was strapped a sword, emblem of officer's rank, and encased in chamois-skin.

Going below, the pair breakfasted, glancing, in the meantime, over morning newspapers.

Just before nine-thirty that same morning, our young naval officers, bent on joining their ship, stepped along briskly through the Brooklyn Navy Yard.

It was really an inspiring place. Sailors, marines and officers, too, were in evidence.

In the machine shops and about the docks thousands of men were performing what once would have passed for the work of giants.

Huge pieces of steel were being shaped; heavy drays carried these pieces of steel; monster cranes hoisted them aboard ships lying at the docks or standing shored up in the dry docks. There was noise in the air; the spirit of work and accomplishment pervaded the place, for word had come from Washington that many ships might soon be needed in Mexican waters.

Eight dreadnoughts lay at their berths. Even as the boys crossed the great yard a cruiser was being warped in, after an eighteen-thousand mile voyage.

Alongside floating stages in the basins lay submarines and torpedo boat destroyers. A naval collier was being coaled. A Navy launch was in sight and coming closer, bearing a draft of marines bound for duty on one of the battleships.

Every sight spoke proudly of the naval might of a great nation, yet that might was not at all in proportion with the naval needs of such a vast country.

"It does an American good, just to be in a place like this, doesn't it?" asked Danny Grin.

"It does, indeed," Dave answered. Then, his bewilderment increasing, he turned to a marine who stood at a distance of some sixty feet from where he had halted.

"My man!" Dave called.

Instantly the marine wheeled about. Noting the suit cases, with the swords strapped to them, the marine recognized these young men in civilian attire as naval officers. Promptly his hand sought his cap visor in clean-cut salute, which both young ensigns as promptly returned.

"Be good enough to direct me to the `Long Island,'" Darrin requested.

"Yes, sir," and the marine, stepping closer, led the way past three large buildings.

"There she is, over there, sir," said the marine, a minute later, pointing. "Shall I carry your suit cases, sir, to the deck?"

"It won't be necessary, thank you," Darrin replied.

"Very good, sir," and again the marine saluted. Returning the salute, the two young officers hurried forward. As they strode along, their eyes feasting on the strong, proud lines of the dreadnought on which they were to serve, their staunch young hearts swelled with pride. And there, over the battleship's stern, floated the Flag, which they had taken most solemn oath to defend with their lives and with their honor, whether at home, or on the other side of the world.

In both breasts stirred the same emotions of love of country.

Just then neither felt like speaking. They hastened on in silence.

Up the gang-plank they strode. At a word from the officer on deck, two young sailors, serving as messengers, darted down the plank, saluting, then relieving the young officers of their suit cases.

Up the gang-plank, and aboard, walked the young ensigns. First the eyes of Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell sought the Flag. Bringing their heels together, standing erect, they faced the Stars and Stripes, flying at the stern, bringing their hands up smartly in salute. The officer of the deck returned to the youngsters the salute on behalf of the Flag.

Then Darrin and Dalzell approached the officer of the deck.

"I am Ensign Darrin, and I report having come aboard, sir," said Dave. Dan reported his own arrival in similar terms.

"My name is Trent," replied the officer of the deck, as he extended his right hand to each, in turn. "I hope you will like all of us;

I know we shall like you."

Then to the messengers Lieutenant Trent gave the order to carry the suit cases to the rooms assigned to the two new ensigns.

Dave and Dan followed the messengers through a corridor that led past the ward-room. The messengers halted before the curtained doorways of adjoining rooms, bags in left hands, their right hands up in salute.

"This is your room, sir," announced the messenger, in the precise tones of the service, while Dan's messenger indicated the other room.

"Some kind fate must have given us adjoining rooms," laughed Dave, when he realized that the two doors stood side by side.

As Darrin passed into his new quarters his first glance rested lovingly on the breech of a huge gun that pierced the armored side of the dreadnought.

"That's great!" thought the young ensign, jubilantly. "I shall have an emblem and a constant reminder of my duty to the United States!"

His second glance took in the polished top of a desk, over which hung an electric light.

There is no door to an officer's room; instead, a curtain hangs in place, screening the room from outside view. At one side, in the cabin, was another curtain, this screening the alcove in which lay the berth.

But Darrin did not stop to study his new quarters just then.

There was a duty first to be performed. Opening his suit case, he took out the trousers and blouse of the blue undress uniform.

Into this he changed as rapidly as he could, after which he brushed his hair before the little mirror, then put on his cap.

Next he fastened on his sword belt, after which he hung his sword at his side. An anxious head-to-foot glance followed, and Ensign Darrin found himself spick and span.

Now he stepped to Dan's door, calling in:

"May I come in, old fellow?"

"I'll be in a strange state of mind if you don't," Danny Grin answered.

Ensign Dalzell was putting the finishing touches to his own rapid toilet.

"I'm going to help myself to your card case," announced Dave, who already held a card of his own. Adding Dan's to that, Ensign Darrin stepped to the doorway, glancing quickly about him.

"Sentry!" Dave called.

"Sir!" answered a marine, stepping forward and giving the customary salute.

"Pass the word for a messenger, sentry!"

"Aye, aye, sir."

In a twinkling the messenger arrived, saluting.

"Take these cards to the captain, with the respectful compliments of Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell, and state that they await his permission to report to him."

"Aye, aye, sir."

In less than a minute the messenger returned, stating that the captain would receive them at once.

Captain Gales, a heavily-built, stately-looking man of fifty, rose from his desk in his office as the two young ensigns stepped through the door. The young men saluted their commander, then stood rigidly at attention.

"Mr. Darrin?" asked the captain, extending his hand, which Dave promptly clasped. Then Dan was greeted.

"Glad to have you with us," was all the captain said. Then, to the marine orderly who stood just within the door: "Show these gentlemen to the executive officer."

"He didn't ask after our folks, nor even if we liked the looks of the ship," Dalzell complained, in a whisper, as they followed the orderly.

"Be silent, Danny Grin!" urged Darrin, rebukingly. "This is no time for jesting."

Commander Bainbridge, the executive officer, received the young officers in his quarters. He proved to be more communicative, talking pleasantly with them for fully a minute and a half after the young men had introduced themselves, and had turned over to him the official papers connecting them with this dreadnought's personnel.

"Let me see, Mr. Dalzell," said Lieutenant Commander Bainbridge, referring to a record book on his desk, "you will be in Lieutenant Trent's division. Find Mr. Trent on the quarter deck and report to him. Mr. Darrin, you are assigned to Lieutenant Cantor's division.

I will have an orderly show you to Mr. Cantor."

Dan departed first, walking very erect and feeling unusually elated, for Dalzell had thoroughly liked the appearance of Trent in their brief meeting, and believed that he would be wholly contented in serving under that superior.

While Dave's quarters were on the port side of the ship, Cantor's proved to be on the right side.

The messenger halted before a curtained doorway, rapping.

"Who's there?" called a voice inside.

"Messenger, sir, showing Ensign Darrin to Lieutenant Cantor, sir."

"Then you may go, messenger. Darrin, wait just an instant won't you, until I finish my toilet."

"Very good, sir."

A moment later the hail came from within.

"Right inside, Darrin!"

Dave entered, to find a somewhat older officer standing with extended hand. But Ensign Darrin could not believe his eyes when he found himself faced by the man who had annoyed the young woman on the night before—and that annoyer standing there erect and handsome in the uniform of a Navy lieutenant!

II. At the Mercy of a Bully

Their hands met, but in light clasp, without pretense of warmth.

Then Darrin fell back, bringing his right hand mechanically to a salute as he mumbled:

"I am Ensign Darrin, sir, and have been ordered, by the executive officer, to report to you for duty in your division."

"Very good, Mr. Darrin," rejoined the lieutenant. "My division goes on watch at eight bells noon. You will report to me on the quarter deck at that time."

"Very good, sir."

With a quick step Lieutenant Cantor reached the curtain, holding it slightly aside and peering out into the passage-way. His face was red, but there was one portion that was redder still.

"I see," Dave reflected, "that Cantor still wears the welt that I printed on his cheek last night. But it staggers me," he thought, gravely, "to find such a fellow holding an officer's commission in the Navy."

Satisfied that there were no eavesdroppers near, Lieutenant Cantor stepped back, facing the young ensign, whom he looked over with an expression of mingled hate and distress.

"I believe we have met before," said Cantor, with a quick, hissing indrawing of his breath.

"To my very great regret, we have, sir," Darrin answered, coldly.

"Last night!"

"Yes, sir."

"And you behaved abominably, Darrin!"

"Indeed, sir?"

"You interfered," Lieutenant Cantor continued, "with one of the most important affairs of my life."

"Yes, sir? With one of the most shameful, I should imagine, sir."

Ensign Darrin's tone was officially respectful, but his glance cold. He felt no respect for Cantor, and could see no reason why he should pretend respect.

"I had a strong belief that I should see you again," Cantor continued, his gleaming eyes turned on the new ensign.

"You knew me to be of the Navy, sir?"

"I did not, Darrin, nor did you know me to be of the Navy. Otherwise, it is not likely that you would have behaved as you did."

"If I had known you to be the fleet admiral, Mr. Cantor, my conduct could not have been different, under the circumstances."

"Darrin, you are a fool!" hissed the division officer.

"I am much obliged to you, sir, for your good opinion," Dave answered, in an even voice.

For an instant the lieutenant frowned deeply. Then his face cleared.

His glance became almost friendly as he continued:

"Darrin, I think it probable that you will have a chance to repair your bad work of last night."

"Sir?"

"Last night you told me that you had noted the number of the taxicab in which the young woman escaped me."

"I did, sir."

"Perhaps you still remember that number. Indeed, I am sure that you must."

"I do remember the number, sir."

"What was it?" asked Cantor, eagerly.

"That number, sir, so far as I am concerned," Ensign Darrin answered, tranquilly, "is a woman's secret."

"It is a secret which I have a right to know," Lieutenant Cantor went on pressingly.

"The number, sir, I would not dream of giving you without the permission of the young woman herself," Darrin answered, slowly.

"As I do not even know her name, it is unlikely that I shall be able to secure that permission."

"Darrin, it is my right to receive an answer to my question," insisted Cantor, his eyes glittering coldly.

"You will have to find out from some one other than myself, then," was Dave's calm answer.

"Darrin, you force me to tell you more than I really ought to tell. I am going to marry that young woman!"

"Is the young woman aware of your intentions, sir?" Dave demanded, quietly.

"Yes! Darrin, I tell you, I am going to marry that young woman, and it is most imperative that I should see her as early as possible.

Give me the number of that taxicab, and I can find the driver and learn where he took her. Now, what are you smiling at, Darrin?"

"It struck me, sir, that you should already know the address of a young woman whom you are engaged to marry."

Lieutenant Cantor repressed an exclamation of impatience and bit his lips.

"Of course I know her home address," he deigned to reply, "but she is not a New Yorker. Her home is at a considerable distance, and I do not know where to find her in New York. Give me that taxicab number and I shall be able to secure shore leave. By this evening I shall have found her."

"You do not expect me to wish you luck in a matter like this, sir?" Ensign Darrin inquired.

"I expect you to give me the number of that taxicab, and at once," replied Cantor. He did not raise his voice, but there was compelling fury in his tone.

"I have already declined to do that, sir," Dave insisted.

"Darrin, do you realize that I am your superior?" demanded the lieutenant.

"I am aware, sir, that you are my superior officer," Darrin answered, with strong emphasis on the word "officer."

"And you refuse to please me in a trifling matter?"

"Pardon me, sir, but from the little that I saw and heard, I cannot believe that your discovery of her address would be regarded by the young woman as a trifling matter."

"Do you persist in refusing to tell me that taxicab number?" hissed Lieutenant Cantor.

"Sir, as a gentleman, I must," Dave rejoined. For a full half minute Lieutenant Cantor stared at his subordinate in speechless anger. Then, when he could command his voice somewhat, he resumed:

"Oh, very good, you—you young—puppy!"

Another brief interval of silence, and the lieutenant continued, in a crisp, official tone:

"Mr. Darrin, go to the division bulletin board and get an accurate copy of the roster of the division. Also make a copy of our station bills. You will then report to me on the quarter deck just before eight bells, noon."

"Aye, aye, sir! Any further orders?"

"None!"

Cantor stood there, an appealing look in his eyes, but Dave, saluting, turned on his heel and went out.

"So that is the fellow who is to teach me the duties and the ideals of the service," Dave Darrin reflected, disgustedly, as he stepped briskly around to port. "A magnificent prospect ahead of me, if I must depend upon the instructions and the official favor of a bully and a scoundrel like Cantor! And he can make it hot for me, too, if he has a mind to do so! Don't I know how easy that ought to be for him? I shall have, indeed, a lot of pleasure in my service on this ship, with Cantor for my division officer!"

Mindful of orders, Darrin's first act was to copy the division roster and the station bills. These he took to his room, placing them in a drawer of the desk, for future study. For the present, he wanted to get out into the open air.

Though Ensign Dalzell had been directed to report on the quarter deck, he was not now there. Dave walked about by himself until Lieutenant Trent came over and spoke to him.

"Dalzell is busy, I suppose, sir?" Dave inquired.

"Forward and below, directing the stowage of stores," replied Trent. "Have you been detailed to a division yet, Mr. Darrin?"

"Yes, sir; to Lieutenant Cantor's division."

"Ah, so?" inquired Trent. He did not say more, from which Dave wondered if Trent did not like Cantor. If such were the case, then Darrin's opinion of Lieutenant Trent would run all the higher.

"Cantor is a very efficient officer," Trent said, after a pause, not long enough to be construed unfavorably.

Dave did not answer this, for he could think of nothing to say.

"Some of our newest youngsters haven't wholly liked him," Trout went on, with a smile. "I fancy that perhaps he works them a bit too grillingly."

"After four years at the Naval Academy," smiled Ensign Darrin,

"it puzzles me to understand how any officer can resent grilling."

"You'll find life very different on one of these big ships," Lieutenant Trout continued. "You will soon begin to realize that we are in a cramped atmosphere. With fifteen hundred officers and men abroad there is barely elbow room at any time, and sometimes not that."

"This ship looks big enough to carry a small city full of people,"

Darrin smiled.

"See here!" Trent stepped to the starboard rail, looking forward.

"Just look ahead, and see the magnificent distance to the bow," continued the officer of the deck. "We call a ship 'she,' Darrin, and let me assure you, 'she' is some girl! Look at the magnificent length and breadth. Yet, when we are at sea, you will soon begin to realize how cramped the life is."

After chatting a little longer with Lieutenant Trent, Ensign Darrin started forward along the decks, taking in all he could see of this huge, floating castle.

Presently he returned to the quarter-deck, but Lieutenant Trent was busy with a lieutenant of the marine guard. Dave stepped inside. Almost immediately he heard a step at his side. Glancing around, Dave looked into the face of Lieutenant Cantor.

"A while ago I noticed you talking with Trent," Dave's division officer remarked, in a low voice.

"Yes, sir."

"Did you discuss me?"

"Yes, sir."

"What did you say, Darrin?"

"I mentioned that you were my division officer."

"Did Trent say anything?"

"Mr. Trent said that you were a very efficient officer."

"Did you tell him anything—about—er—about last night?"

"Nothing," Dave answered.

"Positive about that?" insinuated Cantor.

"Sir," Dave answered, "I am an officer and, I trust—a gentleman."

"Then you told Trent nothing about last night?"

"I have already told you, sir, that I didn't."

"Nor to anyone else on this ship?" pressed the lieutenant.

"I told Dalzell, last night, that I had met with a stranger who was——"

"That will do!" snapped Cantor.

"Very good, sir."

"Have you told Dalzell about me since coming aboard?"

"I have not."

"And you won't?" pressed Cantor.

"On that point, sir, I decline to pledge myself," Darrin responded, with unusual stiffness.

"Darrin, do you want to make an enemy?"

"Mr. Cantor, I never, at any time, wish to make an enemy. I am not trying to make one of you."

"I will regard that as a promise from you," returned Cantor, then moved quickly away.

"It would have been better," murmured Darrin, softly, turning and regarding the moving figure, "if you had heard me out. However, Mr. Cantor, though you are not now here to hear me say it, I did not promise silence. Yet it is difficult to conceive what would make me open my mouth on the subject of last night's happening.

I have never been a tale-bearer, and, much as I may despise that fellow, and the affront that he offers the Navy, in remaining in the service, I fancy his secret is safe from all—except Dalzell.

Danny and I haven't yet begun to have secrets from each other."

Presently Dan Dalzell, wearing his sword and pulling on his white gloves as he came, appeared, walking aft. There was time only for a smiling nod, for Dave suddenly remembered, with a start that it was time for him to report for change of watch.

Hastening down the passage-way Dave hung his sword on, then hastily rummaged the suit case for a pair of white gloves that he had previously tucked in there.

Hastening, he reached the deck just as the watch was being changed.

With quick step Ensign Darrin took his momentary post. Then, when the old watch had gone off duty, Lieutenant Cantor turned to his subordinate with a frown.

"Ensign Darrin, you made a bad beginning, sir," declared the new watch officer, crisply. "In the future, I trust you will be more mindful of the responsibility of an officer in setting his men an example in punctuality. If this occurs again, sir, I shall feel it my duty to turn in report of your negligence!"

Several men of the watch and two of the marine guard hoard this rebuke administered. Dave Darrin's face flushed, then paled from the humiliation of the rebuke. Yet he had been guilty of an actual breach of discipline, minor though it was, and could not dispute Cantor's right to reprove him.

"I very much regret my negligence, sir," Dave answered, saluting, but he bit his lip in the same instant for he realized how thoroughly his superior officer enjoyed the privilege of administering the rebuke.

From inside Dan Dalzell heard the words.

At once, on the stroke of eight bells, the mess signal was hung to the breeze. While that flag flew no one was admitted to the battleship unless he belonged on board.

Then appeared a little Filipino mess servant, who asked Dave and Dan to follow him to their assigned seats.

"Am I permitted to go to mess, sir?" Dave asked of Lieutenant Cantor.

"Yes," was the short answer.

While the signal flew the sergeant of the marine guard was in charge at the quarter-deck gang plank. There was no need of a commissioned officer there.

To their delight Darrin and Dalzell found themselves assigned to seats at the table together.

Lieutenant Trent stepped down, introducing the new arrivals to the officers beside whom, and opposite whom they sat.

"I was sorry to hear you get that calling down," Dalzell whispered to his chum, as soon as that was possible under the cover of the conversation of others. "Why did Lieutenant Cantor seem to enjoy his privilege so much?"

After a covert glance, to make sure that he was not in danger of being overheard, Darrin replied, in an undertone:

"Lieutenant Cantor was the man of whom I told you last night."

"Not the——"

"Yes," Dave nodded.

"But it seems incredible that an officer of our Navy could be guilty of any such conduct," Dalzell gasped, his eyes large with amazement. "Are you sure?"

"Didn't you notice the welt on Mr. Cantor's cheek?" Dave asked, dryly.

Danny Grin nodded, then fell silent over his plate.

After the meal Lieutenant Trent saw to it that both the new ensigns were introduced to such officers as they had not met already.

"We can't possibly remember all their names—scores of 'em!" gasped Dan, as the two young officers stood outside the mess.

"We'll learn every name and face before very long," Darrin answered.

"But I mustn't stand talking," Dave went on, as he again hung his sword at his side. "I'm on duty, and can't stand another call-down."

"Are you going to tell what Cantor did last night?" Dan queried.

"No; and don't you tell, either!"

"Small fear of my babbling your business, David, little Giant!" assured Dalzell. "You are strong enough to go in and slay your own Goliath."

Drawing on his white gloves, Dave Darrin stepped alertly to the quarter deck, to find himself facing the frown of Lieutenant Cantor.

III. The Junior Worm Turns

"Wonder what my man has in store for me?" flashed through Dave's mind, as he saluted his division commander.

But Cantor, after returning the salute, merely turned away to pace the deck.

Presently, however, the lieutenant stepped over to Darrin, when the pair had the quarterdeck to themselves.

"Are you going to tell me?" murmured the lieutenant, his burning gaze on the frank young face before him.

"Tell you what, sir?" Dave asked.

"That taxicab number?"

"No, sir!"

"Think!"

"When I have decided that a given course of conduct is the only course possible to a gentleman," Ensign Darrin replied, "I have no further occasion to give thought to that subject."

"Darrin, you might make me your friend!" urged his superior officer.

"That would be delightful, sir."

"Darrin, don't try to be ironical with me!"

Dave remained silent.

"If you don't care for me for your friend, Darrin," Cantor warned him, "it is possible, on the other hand, to make an enemy of me.

As an enemy you would not find me wanting either in resource or opportunity."

"Have you any orders for me, sir?" asked Darrin, coolly. That was as near as he could come, courteously, to informing Cantor that he wished from him none but official communications.

"Pardon me, sir," said Cantor, and stepped away to salute Commander Bainbridge, who had just appeared on the quarter-deck. There was a low-toned conversation between the two officers. Then, as the pair exchanged salutes, and Bainbridge went on to the captain's quarters, Lieutenant Cantor came back to his selected victim.

"Darrin, you will go below and finish the watch, loading stores in the number four hold. I will pass the word for the petty officer who will have charge under you, and he will show you to the hold.

If you wish you may put on dungarees, for it is rough work down there."

"My baggage has not come aboard, sir," Dave replied. "This is the only uniform I have."

In his perturbed state of mind, it did not occur to the young ensign that he could draw dungarees—the brown overall suit that is worn by officers and crew alike when doing rough work about the ship, from the stores, nor did Cantor appear to notice his reply.

The messenger came, and brought Riley, the coxswain of one of the gigs.

"Coxswain, Ensign Darrin will take charge of the shipping of the stores in number four hold," Cantor announced. "Show him the way to the hold and receive his instructions."

Dave was speedily engaged between decks, in charge of tire work of some twenty men of the crew. At the hatch above, a boatswain's mate had charge of the lowering of the stores.

"It would be a pity to spoil your uniform, sir," declared Coxswain Riley. "If you'll allow me, sir, I'll spare you all of the dirtiest work."

"To shirk my duty would be a bad beginning of my service on this ship," smiled Darrin. "Thank you, Coxswain, but I'll take my share of the rough work."

The hold was close and stifling. Although a cool breeze was blowing on deck, there was little air in number two hold. In ten minutes Darrin found himself bathed in perspiration. Dust from barrels and packing cases hung heavy in that confined space. The grime settled on his perspiring face and stuck there.

"Look out, sir, or you'll get covered with pitch from some of these barrels," Riley warned Dave, respectfully.

"One uniform spoiled is nothing," Dave answered with a smile.

"Do not be concerned about me."

Officer and men were suffering alike in that close atmosphere.

By the time the watch was ended Dave Darrin was truly a pitchy, soiled, perspiration-soaked sight.

Danny Grin, who reported to relieve his chum, looked rough and ready enough in a suit of dungarees that he had drawn.

"I should have had brains enough to remember that I, too, could have drawn dungarees," Dave grunted, as he and his chum exchanged salutes. Then the relieved young officer hastened above to report the completion of his duty to his division commander, who would be furious if kept waiting.

Dave glanced toward Cantor's quarters, then realized that the lieutenant must still be on the quarter deck.

In his haste to be punctual, Darrin forgot his sword and white gloves, which he had left in his own cabin on the way to duty between decks. Without these appurtenances of duty on the quarter-deck, Darrin made haste aft, found his division commander, saluted and reported his relief.

"Mr. Darrin," boomed Cantor, in a tone of high displeasure, "don't you know that an officer reporting to the quarter-deck when in any but dungaree clothes, should wear his gloves and sword. Go and get them, sir—and don't keep me waiting beyond my watch time when I have shore leave!"

Again red-faced and humiliated, Ensign Darrin saluted, wheeled, made haste to his quarters, then returned wearing sword and gloves.

This time he saluted and made his report in proper form.

"Mr. Darrin," said his division officer, scathingly, "this is the second time to-day that I have had to teach you the things you should have learned in your first week at Annapolis. You are making a bad beginning, sir."

Dave saluted, but this time did not answer in words.

"You may go, Mr. Darrin, and hereafter I trust to find in you a more attentive and clear-headed officer."

Lieutenant Cantor did not hold his tone low. It is the privilege of an officer to rebuke an enlisted man publicly, and as severely as the offense warrants, and it is the further privilege of an officer to make his rebuke to a subordinate commissioned officer as sharp and stinging as he chooses.

Saluting, without a word, Darrin wheeled and walked to his quarters.

"Cantor will certainly have abundant opportunity to make things warm for me," reflected Darrin, as he sat down before the desk in his cabin. "I wonder what I am to do, in order to keep my self-respect and keep my hands off the fellow. It would probably end my career in the Navy if I struck him on this ship."

For some minutes Darrin sat in a rather dejected frame of mind, reviewing his first acquaintance with this official cur, and the things that had happened on shipboard since.

"I suppose I could ask for a different detail," Dave mused, forlornly.

"Undoubtedly, though, I wouldn't get the detail, unless I gave what were considered sufficiently good reasons, and I can't tell tales on my division commander, cur though I know him to be."

In the passage outside, sounded passing footsteps and a laugh.

Dave felt his face flush, for he recognized the voice of Lieutenant Cantor.

"Danny Grin is a good chum," reflected Darrin, "but in this affair he can't advise me any better than I can advise myself. I wish I could talk freely with some older officer, who knows shipboard life better. But if I were to go to any older officer with such a tale as I have, it would——"

"In, Mr. Darrin?" sounded a cheery voice, and Commander Bainbridge, the executive officer, stood in the doorway, bringing young Darrin to his feet in prompt salute.

"I was passing, Darrin, and so I called," announced the executive officer. "Otherwise, I would have summoned you to my office.

Lieutenant Cantor has secured shore leave until eleven o'clock to-night. As we are busy aboard, Mr. Cantor's division is due for watch duty at eight bells this evening. As Mr. Cantor has shore leave you will report as officer of the deck until relieved by Lieutenant Cantor on his return to the ship. At any time between now and four bells report at my office and sign for these instructions."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Returning the ensign's salute, the executive officer next regarded Darrin's untidy appearance with some displeasure.

"Mr. Darrin," Commander Bainbridge continued, "I note that you must have been on hard duty. No officer, after being relieved, is entitled to retain an untidy appearance longer than is necessary.

You should have bathed, sir, and attired yourself becomingly.

Neatness is the first requisite in the service."

"I shall be glad to do that sir," Dave answered, respectfully,

"as soon as my baggage comes aboard. At present this is the only uniform I have."

"That alters the case, Mr. Darrin," replied the executive officer, kindly. "In case, however, your baggage does not arrive between now and dinner-time, you will not be warranted in going to the ward-room, unless you can borrow a uniform that fits you as well as one of your own."

"I shall be very careful on that point, sir," Dave answered, respectfully, with another salute, returning which Commander Bainbridge departed.

Ten minutes later Darrin's baggage was delivered. In their proper places the young ensign hung his various uniforms, placed his shoes according to regulation, and stowed his linen and underclothing in the wardrobe drawers.

After this a most welcome bath followed. Dave then dressed with care in a fresh blue uniform, stepped to the executive officer's office and signed for his evening orders.

There was time for fifteen minutes in the open air, after which Dave returned to his quarters to dress for dinner. This done, he stepped outside, knowing that the summons to the wardroom would soon come.

At first Dave was the only officer at that point. Commander Bainbridge soon joined him.

A desperate thought entering his mind, Dave addressed the commander as soon as his salute had been returned.

"Sir, may I ask you a question connected with my own personal affairs?" he asked.

"Certainly," replied the executive officer.

"I was wondering, sir, if it would be wise for me to seek counsel from an older officer if at any time I found myself threatened with trouble, or, at least, with unpleasantness."

"It would be a very wise course on your part, Darrin," replied Commander Bainbridge, though he regarded the ensign's face with keen scrutiny. "An older officer should always esteem it a pleasure, as well as a duty, to advise a younger officer. I take an interest in all the officers of this ship. If there is anything in which I can advise you, you may command me."

"Thank you, sir. But, if you will permit me to frame an instance, if the advice that I asked of you might tend to prejudice you against one of your subordinate officers, would it be wiser for me to seek counsel of some officer not higher in rank than the officer whom I have just supposed?"

"That is to say, Mr. Darrin, that the advice you might otherwise wish to ask of me might be taken in the light of a complaint against an officer who is one of my subordinates, and against whom you would not wish to carry tales? In that case, you would, by all means, show good judgment consulting a younger officer. But remember, Darrin, that not all men are equally wise. Be very careful whom you select at any time as adviser. And remember that, for any advice that you may properly ask of me, you may come to me without hesitation."

"Thank you, sir. I trust you realize how deeply grateful I am to you," Dave protested earnestly.

As other officers came up, Commander Bainbridge cut the discussion short by turning to greet the arrivals.

Dinner in the ward-room was the formal meal of the day. The table, covered with snowy damask, glittered with crystal and silver.

Silent, soft-moving little Filipinos, in their white mess suits, glided about, serving noiselessly.

At the head of the table sat Commander Bainbridge, the executive officer, for the captain of a battleship dines in solitary state in his own apartments. On either side of the executive officer sat the other officers, in two long rows, according to their rank.

On either side of the Commander were seated the officers with rank of lieutenant commander. Next to them were the lieutenants, senior grade. After them came the lieutenants, junior grade.

At the foot of the table was a group of ensigns, the lowest in rank of commissioned officers of the Navy.

Course followed course, and good humor prevailed at the officers' table. Now and then a good joke or a witty sally called forth hearty laughter. Here and there officers, dismissing laughter for the time being, talked of graver matters.

Danny Grin soon found time to murmur the question:

"How did you get along with your tyrant this afternoon?"

"No better," Dave answered, moodily.

"Did he rake you over the coals again?"

"Yes." Then Darrin detailed the circumstances.

"I am afraid he has it in for you, all right," muttered Danny Grin, scowling.

"He'll report me as often as he can, I don't doubt," Dave replied.

"If he can bring me up before a general court-martial, all the better."

"I'm sorry you're not in Trent's division," Dan sighed. "He's a gentleman—a regular, sea-going officer."

"Sea-going" is the highest praise that can be given in Navy circles.

"If I were in Trent's division, probably you'd have fallen under Cantor," Darrin suggested.

"That would have been all right," nodded Dalzell, cheerily. "Cantor has no direct cause to hate me, as he has in your case. Besides, I'd do a good many things to a mean superior that you wouldn't.

If I had to stand watch with Cantor, and he tried any queer treatment of me, I'd find a way to make his life miserable. I believe I've shown some skill in that line in the past."

"You surely have," Darrin nodded. "But I don't like to spring traps for my superior officers to fall into."

"Not even in self-defence?" challenged Dalzell.

"Not even to save myself," Darrin declared. At eight bells, in Lieutenant Cantor's absence, Darrin took the watch trick alone as officer of the deck until six bells, or eleven o'clock that night.

There was not much to do. Now and then a shore leave man, sailor or marine, reported coming on board. Darrin made a note of the man's return and entered the time. Twice, a messenger brought some small order from the executive officer. Yet it was a dull watch, with the ship docked and nothing of importance happening.

"Cantor will soon be back," thought Dave, at last, slipping out his watch and glancing at it under the light that came from the cabin. His timepiece showed the time to be five minutes to eleven.

But a quarter of an hour passed, and no Lieutenant Cantor appeared.

More time slipped by without the lieutenant's return.

"That doesn't sound much like the punctuality that is required of a naval officer," Dave told himself, in some disquiet.

Then finally a step was heard on the gangplank. Lieutenant Cantor came briskly up over the side, halting on the deck and saluting toward the stern, where the colors flew until sundown.

"Mr. Darrin, I've come on board," reported the lieutenant, turning in time to catch Dave's salute.

He stepped closer, to add:

"You will enter a note that I came on board at 10.58."

"The time is eleven-forty, sir," Dave reminded his superior, at the same time displaying his watch.

"Note that I came on board at 10.58," insisted Cantor, frowning.

"Sentry!" called Dave, briskly.

"Aye, aye, sir!"

"Note the time on the chronometer inside," Darrin ordered.

"Aye, aye, sir." Then, returning the marine sentry answered:

"It's eleven-forty, sir."

Dave made the entry of the lieutenant's return.

"You infernal trouble-maker," hissed Cantor, as the sentry paced on. "You dragged that sentry into it, just so you would have supporting testimony of the time I came aboard! I'll pay you back for that! Look out for trouble, Mr. Darrin!"

IV. The Ward-Room Hears Real News

Hurrying to the now empty office of the executive officer, Cantor made correct entry of his return to ship on the record, then hurried to his own quarters, and with almost the speed of magic, slipped into his undress uniform, belted on his sword, and appeared smartly on the quarter-deck.

For two minutes he paid no heed to Darrin, save to return the salute with which the young ensign greeted his superior's return to command of the deck.

Presently, however, Lieutenant Cantor stepped over to say in an undertone:

"Darrin, you have made the wrong start, and I see that you are bound to keep it up."

"I am trying to do my duty, sir," Darrin returned. "I could not consent to make a false official return."

"Officers often have to do that for each other," Cantor went on, in the same low tone, "and they do it willingly as between comrades."

It was on the tip of Darrin tongue to retort that he didn't believe any true officer, being a man of honor, could stoop to making a false official report. Yet he instantly thought better of it, and forced back the sarcastic retort that rose to his lips.

"You're not going to succeed in the Navy, sir," Cantor continued, then, seeing the young ensign's face still impassive, he added, with a malicious leer:

"Since you are determined to make an enemy of me, Darrin, I shall do my best to see to it that you have short shrift in the service."

"Of that I haven't a doubt," Dave returned, but he caught himself in time and said it under his breath.

Then came the changing of the watch. Trent and Dalzell appeared and went on duty.

Formally, Dave wished his division commander good night, Cantor answering only with a grunt.

Returning to his stateroom, Dave threw off belt and sword, hung up his cap, then sat down in his desk chair, leaning back and steadily regarding the breech of the great gun.

"I wonder if any other young officer in the service is at the mercy of such a brute," Darrin asked himself, wretchedly. "I love good discipline, but there's one thing wrong with the service, and that is, the ease with which a dishonorable officer can render the life of his subordinate miserable. It ought not to be possible, and yet I don't see any way of preventing it. I wish I could talk with a gentleman like Lieutenant Trent, but he would only regard me as a tale-bearer, and after that he would have no use for me. One thing I can see clearly. Cantor is likely to have me broken and kicked out of the service if I am forced to remain in his division week after week."

Then, realizing that his time was slipping away, Darrin hastily undressed and got into his berth. It was a long time, though, before sleep came to him.

In the morning Lieutenant Cantor was obliged to listen meekly to a long discourse by the executive officer on the virtue of punctuality in a naval officer. The offender told of a car block in New York that had made it impossible for him to return on time.

"Lieutenant Cantor," returned the executive officer, dryly, "a careful officer will allow himself sufficient margin of time to make it morally certain that he can be back to his duty on time.

Now, sir——"

But at this moment an apprentice messenger, standing in the doorway, his right hand drawn up in salute, attracted the gaze of Commander Bainbridge:

"The captain" compliments, sir; will the executive officer report to him at once."

"That is all—for the present—Lieutenant Cantor," said Commander Bainbridge, rising from his chair and hastening out.

"And all this, on account of a puppy of a junior who will not use sense and reason at the request of a superior officer!" ground Cantor between his teeth. "I shall pay Darrin for this, and for that greater insult, too."

Some minutes before the call to breakfast was due, Darrin and Dalzell appeared from their quarters and walked aft to where a group of the "Long Island's" officers stood. Three or four of them had newspapers in their hands.

"It's time the government did something!" exclaimed one lieutenant commander, testily.

"We're going to do something, soon," asserted another officer, with a snap of his jaws.

"When?" demanded a third officer, while several men laughed derisively.

"We'll have to," continued the second speaker. "Every day the Mexican situation becomes worse. The usurper, Huerta, is becoming more of a menace all the time. He has no regard for the rights of any one, but himself. And he is unable to do more, in the field, than to accept defeat after defeat at the hands of the rebels under that former bandit chief, 'Pancho' Villa. Both the so-called Federals and the rebels, in Mexico, are doing their best to make Mexico a hotbed of incurable anarchy. Scores of American citizens have been murdered ruthlessly, and American women have been roughly treated. British subjects have been shot without the shadow of an excuse, and other foreigners have been maltreated. This country claims to uphold the Monroe Doctrine, which prevents European nations from interfering with force in affairs on this continent. If that is the case, then the United States must put an end to the numberless outrages against Americans and Europeans that take place every week in Mexico. That once orderly republic, Mexico, is now nothing better than a school for instruction in wholesale murder and in the ruthless riding over of the rights of all aliens residing or traveling in that country. These aliens have every right to protection."

"Quite true," remarked another officer. "But what has that to do with the United States? What has there been in our conduct during the past three or four years to indicate that we would take any strong-handed action to make life and property safe in Mexico?"

"We shall soon interfere," predicted the former speaker, confidently.

"Affairs in Mexico are now nearing a crisis. The United States will no longer be called a civilized and honorable nation if Army and Navy men are not sent to Mexico to uphold our government and the rights of American citizens living there."

"Do you think, Holton, that will happen before you and I have been put on the retired list as white-haired rear admirals?" asked another officer, half-jeeringly.

"You will find," insisted Lieutenant Holton, "that we shall soon be listening to the thunder of our American naval guns at Vera Cruz, Tampico, or some other port on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico."

"Hurrah!" came from the throats of a dozen officers, but the cheer was not a very confident one. Too long had the United States been patient in the face of one insult or injury after another.

General Huerta, in Mexico City, and Carranza and Villa, in the west and north of that country, had headed factions, neither of which seemed to care about Mexico's good name in the world at large. Maltreated Americans demanded punishment of the Mexican offenders, but the United States had been engaged in patiently waiting and watching, only once in a while sending a feeble protest either to the Federal or the Constitutionalist leaders in that murder-ridden country of Mexico.

Mess-call sounded to breakfast. The officers filed into their places at table; then, on observing that the executive officer was not in his place at the head of the table, they remained standing by their chairs.

A minute afterward Commander Bainbridge entered with brisk stride, going to his place and giving the seating signal as he said:

"Pardon my tardiness, gentlemen; the captain detained me on a most urgent matter."

After that the buzz of conversation broke loose. Breakfast orders were taken by the white-coated, noiseless Filipino servants. When all had been served, the executive officer glanced up, then rose.

"The attendants will withdraw," he ordered. "Orderly!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" responded the marine orderly on post just inside the door.

"As soon as the attendants have gone outside, orderly, you will chose the door from the outside, and remain there to keep any one from entering the room."

"Aye, aye, sir!" responded the orderly, who then followed the last attendant outside, closing the door after him.

"Gentlemen," continued the executive officer, remaining standing,

"Captain Gales sent for me this morning, to make a most important communication. With his approval I am going to tell you something of what he said. In a word, then, this ship is ordered to be fitted for a cruise to Mexico in the shortest time possible.

Within three or four days we must be on our way to Mexican waters.

"We are to go with bunkers filled with coal. We are to carry abundant clothing supplies for tropical service. We are to carry all the large and small arms ammunition that we can stow away.

We are to take on food supplies to our fullest commissary capacity.

In a word, we are to go prepared for any emergency.

"Now, gentlemen, on account of our departure at the earliest moment, every officer will be needed on board all the time. Unless for some extraordinary reason, shore leave will not be granted to any officer. The watch-word will be 'hustle.' Thank you, gentlemen, for your attention."

In an instant there was clamor in the wardroom. Twenty officers spoke at once, then subsided. Finally only the voice of Lieutenant Commander Denton was heard as he inquired:

"Sir, are we entitled to ask any questions?"

"I will answer any questions that I may properly," smiled the executive officer.

"We are going to Mexico, sir, in fighting trim, are we not?"

"I think what I have already said will indicate that," came Commander Bainbridge's reply.

"Has anything happened in Mexico," continued Denton, "which makes it imperative for us to fight there?"

"Nothing, so far as I know," answered the executive officer, "other than the usual daily outrages that are disgracing the fair name of Mexico."

"Then nothing of unusual importance has happened, which would make us sure that we are heading for Mexico on a definite fighting errand?"

"I have no knowledge that we are actually going to fight in Mexico," replied Commander Bainbridge. "It has occurred to me that this ship, and others of the line, are being ordered to Mexico as a hint to Federals and rebels alike that the United States possesses force enough to bring all Mexicans to their senses."

Having made this last reply, Commander Bainbridge touched a button.

The ward-room door was thrown open, and the mess-servants once more entered.

But now a new note crept into the talk. The fact that the "Long Island" was to carry to Mexican waters full supplies of all kinds, including small and large ammunition, was enough to satisfy these officers of the Navy that the government at Washington had an important move on hand, and that move was expected to bring about armed conflict between the two countries.

"Now, am I a dreamer?" demanded Lieutenant Holton of those about him.

The two most excited officers present were also the newest on hoard the "Long Island." At the thought of active service against an enemy, Dave Darrin and Dan Dalzell fairly tingled.

"This is the greatest news we could possibly get," beamed Danny Grin, turning to his chum.

"It seems too great to be true," replied Ensign Darrin. "Danny, the Mexicans have been boasting that we don't dare tackle them and stir up that Mexican hornet's nest. If we get a chance, the American Navy will show them—and the world—something well worth remembering!"

Both Darrin and Dalzell had already been notified that they were detailed to "day duty" for that day. This meant that they would have no watch duty to stand, but would be employed through the day, while watch duty fell to the lot of others.

While Dalzell was to go below, with Trent, aiding in the storage of shells in the magazine, Darrin was ordered to report to Lieutenant Cantor to supervise the oiling of mechanisms of the guns of Cantor's division, and, later, to perform other important duties.

"Your face is flushed," sneered Cantor, when he found an opportunity to speak aside with Dave. "You are dreaming of active service in war, perhaps."

"Yes, sir," said Dave, simply.

"Look out that war service doesn't bring you disgrace, instead of honor or glory," warned Cantor, darkly.

"What do you mean, sir?"

"You have made me your enemy, and I am a good hater," retorted Lieutenant Cantor.

"You will be under my orders, and I may find a chance——"

Lieutenant Cantor finished only with an expressive shrug of his shoulders.

Though Dave Darrin felt a tremor of uneasiness, his eyes flashed back honest indignation and contempt for so unworthy a superior officer.

V. Watching and Waiting—Behind Big Guns

April, in the tropics!

Four miles off the coast of Mexico, east of the historic port of Vera Cruz, the United States dreadnought, "Long Island," moved along at slow cruising speed.

The few days out from New York had brought marked changes in climate.

While people in New York found the weather still cold, here in Mexican waters, officers and men alike were in the white uniforms of the tropics—all save those whose work below compelled them to wear dungarees.

On the bridge forward, two officers paced at a time. During the night hours there were always three there.

Aft, on the quarter-deck, marines were going through the rifle gymnastic drill. In some of the divisions officers and men were busy at the big gun drills. Others were cleaning a ship that always seemed spotless. The few that were off duty gathered wherever they could find room, for a battleship at sea, with her full complement of officers and men on board, is a crowded affair.

No other ship of the American fleet was in sight, but two operators, constantly on duty in the wireless room, kept the "Long Island" in constant touch with a score of vessels of the United States Navy.

"Have you any idea what we're doing here?" asked Danny Grin, as he and Dave met on the superstructure.

"No idea whatever," Ensign Darrin admitted. "I have noticed, though, that the officers on the bridge keep a constant lookout ashore. See; two of them, even now, have their binoculars trained on the shore."

"I don't see anything over there," replied Dalzell, "except a house or a small village here and there. I looked through the binoculars a little while ago, and to me it appeared a country that was about nine-tenths swamp."

"In the event of sending landing parties ashore," Dave hinted,

"we might have to fight in one of those swamps. When it comes to fighting in the tangles and mazes of a swamp, I fancy the Mexicans have had a whole lot more experience than we have had."

"Why should we have to send landing parties so far from Vera Cruz?"

Dan demanded, opening his eyes.

"We're only forty or fifty miles east of Vera Cruz," Darrin went on. "Danny boy, Vera Cruz is supposed to have a garrison, at present, of only about eight hundred of General Huerta's Mexican Federals. But suppose it was rumored that the Americans intended to land at Vera Cruz. Isn't it likely that the garrison would be greatly increased?"

"Let 'em increase their old garrison," smiled Dalzell, contemptuously.

"The first landing parties from our fleet would drive out any kind of a Mexican garrison that Huerta could put in that town."

"Exactly," nodded Dave, "and then the Mexicans would naturally fall back."

"We can chase 'em," asserted Ensign Dalzell.

"Certainly, but a large force of Mexicans might fall back along the coast, through the swampy country we are now facing."

"In that case," argued Dan, "we wouldn't have to follow the brown rascals on foot. We could use the ship to follow 'em, and land and fight where we found 'em."

"To be sure," Ensign Darrin agreed. "But the Mexicans, knowing their own swamps, would have considerable advantage. They might have part of their force retreat, drawing us further and further into a swamp, and then have another force get between us and our ships."

"Let 'em try it," retorted Dan Dalzell, grimly, "If there is anything new that the Greasers want to know about American methods of fighting, our fleet is full of officers who are willing to be patient instructors. But take my word for it, Dave, if the Mexicans ever try to draw us into one of those swamps, they'll learn so much about real Yankee fighting that it will be fatal to all the Mexicans who take the instruction from us!"

"That's all very good," Darrin nodded, thoughtfully. "Still, we shall make a greater success of operations in the swamps if we study them as much as possible at present."

"I hope the study will soon be followed by a recitation," grinned Dalzell. "I feel that I'm going stale with so much study. Now, if we could only hear a few shots, and then fall in with an advancing firing line!"

"You bloodthirsty wretch!" rebuked Ensign Darrin, but he smiled in sympathy.

"This waiting and watching grows wearisome," groaned Danny Grin.

"But we're watching behind big guns," returned Dave Darrin, grimly.

"Surely, when our ships are down here in such force, and others are being rushed through preparation before coming into these waters, there must be something more in the air than the ordinary kind of watching and waiting. Cheer up, Dan! Before long you'll hear some of our big guns speak, and you'll hear the rattle of small arms, too."

"Understand, please," begged Dalzell, "I'm not bloodthirsty, and I abhor the very thought of war, but, since we're doing all the watching and waiting, I wish these Mexicans would hurry up and start something!"

Trent climbed to the superstructure. Then, catching sight of his juniors, he came toward them.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Watching," sighed Dave.

"And waiting," added Danny Grin.

"Then perhaps you youngsters will be interested in the news of what's going on under this superstructure," suggested Lieutenant Trent.

"What's happening below?" demanded Dalzell. "More watching—and waiting?"

"Why, I have an idea that we won't have to wait much longer," replied Trent, smiling at the eager faces before him. "I've just learned that, for the last twenty minutes, Captain Gales has been standing in the wireless room, and that Commander Bainbridge is with him. They are, so I hear, having a hot and heavy wireless talk with Admiral Fletcher."

"A little talk, as a relief from so much watching and waiting, eh?" asked Darrin, dryly.

"Why, I believe that the talk is going to lead to something real," replied Lieutenant Trent, trying hard to keep the flash of excitement from showing in his own eyes. The fact is, something has happened."

"Don't 'string' us like that!" urged Danny Grin. "Why, Trent, the American Navy, and the Army, too, has been waiting for three years or more for something to happen. But so far it has all happened on the Mexican side. Don't tell us, at this late day, that the United States is going to start anything to happening on the other side."

"There's something up," Trent insisted. "I don't know what it is; I haven't an idea of the nature of the happening, but of this I feel rather sure,—that now, at last, the Mexicans have done something that will turn Yankee guns and Yankee men loose."

"I wonder if you're any good as a prophet, Trent?" pondered Dan, studying his division officer's face keenly.

"We'll wait and see," laughed the lieutenant. "If there really is anything in the wind, I think we'll have a suspicion of what it is by mess-hour to-night. A little more watching and waiting won't hurt us."

"Hear that commotion on the quarter-deck?" demanded Dave, suddenly.

"I hear a lot of talking there. Come on. We'll see if waiting is about to be turned into doing."

Trent walked slowly aft. Still chatting with him, Dave and Dan kept by his side. Then they stood looking down upon the quarter-deck.

Presently two messengers came running out, looking eagerly about them. One messenger, catching sight of the three officers on the superstructure, came bounding up the steps, halting and saluting.

"Compliments of the executive officer," announced the messenger;

"Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell are directed to report to his office immediately."

"Perhaps you'll hear the news at once," murmured Trent, as his juniors left him.

When the two ensigns reported to him, Commander Bainbridge was pacing the passageway outside his office.

"The captain is awaiting us in his office," said the executive.

"We will go there at once."

The instant he entered the captain's quarters, Darrin had sudden misgivings of some impending misfortune, for Lieutenant Cantor, very erect, and looking both stern and important, was talking in low tones with Captain Gales.

"Now, what has the scoundrel found to fasten upon me?" Ensign Dave Darrin wondered, with a start. "And how has he managed to drag Dan into it?"

VI. First to Invade Mexico

"Gentlemen," began Captain Gales, seriously, though there was a pleasant smile on his face, "I imagine I have extremely pleasant news for two of you. Commander Bainbridge and Lieutenant Trent have already some idea of the news, but I will go over it again for the benefit of all here."

"I may go on breathing again," Dave thought grimly. "Then this communication can hardly be in reference to any complaint that Cantor may have lodged against me."

"Messrs. Cantor, Darrin and Dalzell will tonight," resumed the captain, "lead the first expeditions by United States forces that have been made in a great many years."

Had war been declared? Both Dave and Dan fairly jumped with eagerness.

"A letter, coming by some mysterious, round-about route," continued Captain Gales, "has reached the American consul at Vera Cruz.

An American party, consisting of Mr. and Mrs. John Carmody and two small sons, and of Mrs. Sarah Deeming and two daughters nineteen and sixteen years of age, came down by muleback from the plateau some three weeks ago. Carmody is a planter up in that part of the country, and the Deemings were his guests. Different bands of bandit raiders have visited the Carmody plantation from time to time within the last two years, stealing stock and supplies, and levying money blackmail, until Carmody found himself practically ruined, unless the present crops should turn out well.

"Three weeks ago Carmody learned that it was high time for isolated Americans to reach the protection of some large town. Attended by two peons (native laborers), and travelling on mule back, the party started through the mountains for Vera Cruz. Four hours out from the plantation the party was halted by a score of men led by a brigand named Cosetta, who is reported to be the right hand man of the notorious Zapata himself.

"Cosetta, it appears, believed that he could force Carmody to pay a large indemnity, in money, for the release of himself and family and their woman friends. First of all, the Americans were taken to a house near a deserted sugar mill, somewhere on the coast opposite us. This sugar mill stands on a lagoon, and that is as much of a description as Carmody could furnish in his hastily penned letter. But we know that there are, along this part of the coast, three such deserted sugar mills, each standing on a lagoon.

"Plainly, the Carmodys must be in the house near one of these three mills, but which one it is we cannot even guess. Admiral Fletcher sent me the news two hours ago, by wireless. Ever since then we have been in earnest communication upon the subject, and now I have my orders in the matter."

"It would be possible, of course, for us to visit each one of these lagoons in turn. However, if we visited the wrong mill first, these bandits undoubtedly have some means of signaling to comrades. Our landing party might be observed, and the news of the attempt at rescue would be signaled by fires or otherwise, and the discovery of our designs would undoubtedly result in the Carmody party being butchered at once.

"Acting under the orders of Cosetta, or, I might say, under his threats, Mr. Carmody has sent appeals in every direction he could think of for the funds to pay the hundred thousand dollar ransom demanded for the party. These requests have been carried on through agents of Cosetta, but none of the appeals have borne fruit.

Wearied, Cosetta has announced that on a certain morning, if the ransom has not arrived, Carmody and all the members of his party, even including the children, shall be shot and buried in hidden graves. There is little doubt that Cosetta will carry out his threat, and to-morrow morning is the time set for this wholesale murder."

Fire flashed in the eyes of the Navy officers who heard this announcement.

"As you may be certain," continued Captain Gales, "Admiral Fletcher has wired me that this proposed atrocity must be prevented, and the American captives rescued at all hazards. Now, attend me while I show you the detail chart for this part of the coast."

Captain Gales turned to his desk, where the map was spread.

"Here, as you will see," he continued, "is a sugar mill belonging to the Alvarez plantations. Ten miles to the eastward of the Alvarez mill is the Perdita mill; ten miles to the westward of the Alvarez mill is the Acunda mill. To-night there will be no moon. At nine o'clock we shall lie to off the Alvarez mill, and three sixty-foot launches will be lowered to the water. Lieutenant Cantor will command one of these launches, Ensign Darrin another and Ensign Dalzell the third. Each launch will carry one automatic gun, and a landing party of a corporal, six marines, a petty officer and twelve seamen. Each party will be armed, but, gentlemen, I must caution you as to the extreme seriousness of any conflict on shore, or of firing, even though your fire is not directed at human beings. These are days when our relations with Mexico are of an extremely delicate nature. If we send an armed party on shore, and its members fight, it will be difficult, indeed, for our government to make the claim that an act of war was not committed on the soil of a nation that is, at present, at peace with us. The consequences of a fight are likely to be grave indeed.

Therefore, the officer in command of each landing party is especially warned that the rescue of the American prisoners must be accomplished by strategy, not by fighting."

Captain Gales looked keenly at each of the three young officers concerned, to make sure that they understood the full gravity of the situation.

"Strategy, remember—not fighting," Captain Gales repeated.

"Now, the 'Long Island' will not go within four miles of the coast. Yet, despite the darkness to-night, it is likely that a craft as large as this ship would be noted from the shore, and her errand suspected. That might result in the execution of the American captives before aid could reach them. So, when we reach a point opposite the Alvarez mill, Lieutenant Cantor's launch will be put over the side first, while the ship continues under slow headway."

Lieutenant Cantor will lie to, while the other two launches are being lowered. Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell will then steam back and report to Lieutenant Cantor. Under slow speed it will take the launches, commanded by the two ensigns, each about an hour and ten minutes to reach their respective lagoon destinations.

It will take the lieutenant just under thirty minutes to reach the Alvarez lagoon. Ensign Dalzell will go to the Perdita lagoon, and Ensign Darrin to the Acunda lagoon. Forty minutes after Dalzell and Darrin have steamed away, Lieutenant Cantor will run in to the Alvarez mill. Our launches are not likely to be observed from shore, where the 'Long Island,' if she remained in these waters, would be sure to be seen and recognized.

"Therefore, after dropping the steamers, we shall go ahead at cruising speed and not return opposite the Alvarez mill until called by a rocket, which Lieutenant Cantor will send up as soon as the rescue has been accomplished—or has failed. But, gentlemen"—here Captain Gales' voice sank low, yet vibrated with intense earnestness—"all of you will realize the extreme importance of your mission, and the awful consequences of failure.

Therefore, I feel certain that none of you will break the Navy's long list of traditions for zealous, careful, successful performance of duty. Lieutenant Cantor will be in command of the expedition, as a whole."

For some minutes the officers remained in the captain's quarters, discussing further the important work of the coming night.

As no instructions for secrecy had been asked or expected, Commander Bainbridge soon told the news to a few of the "Long Island's" ranking officers, who, in turn passed it on.

"Of all the luck that some officers have!" groaned Lieutenant Trent, as he passed Dave Darrin. "How did you work it, Darrin, to secure one of the details for to-night that any subordinate officer on this ship would have been delighted to see come his way?"

"I don't know," Dave laughingly admitted.

"Darrin, are you hard up?" asked Lieutenant Holton, five minutes later.

"I have a few dollars left," Dave smiled.

"If you can get me shifted to your detail for to-night I'll reward you with a month of my pay," promised the lieutenant.

"Thank you," Dave smiled, gravely. "Even if the change could be easily arranged, I'm afraid I wouldn't give up my chance for six months' pay."

"No chance for me, then," sighed Holton. "I can't remember that I ever had six months' of my pay together at one time."

"Darrin," exclaimed Lieutenant Commander Denton, still a little later, "I never realized that you had so much impudence! The idea of a mere ensign leading such an expedition ashore to-night!

I wanted that myself."

"I am not at all sure that my performance will be one of glory," smiled Darrin.

"It won't, if Cantor can manage to queer you in any way," murmured Denton to himself, as he moved on.

In the ward-room that evening the "impertinence" of two new ensigns in capturing such prized details was commented upon with a great deal of chaffing. Even Lieutenant Cantor was declared to be much too young to be entrusted with such important work.

At eight o'clock the fortunate lieutenant and ensigns were once more sent for, to go over the map and instructions with Captain Gales.

At nine o'clock, just before the "Long Island" was abreast of the Alvarez mill, the first launch was cleared away and lowered, falling behind and lying to.

Then Darrin, with his own crew, went down over the side to the launch towing alongside. It was Coxswain Riley who stood by to catch the young commanding officer's arm.

"Hullo, Coxswain," was Dave's greeting. "Are you to handle the launch to-night?"

"No, sir," Riley answered, saluting. "I am the petty officer in charge of the seamen. Coxswain Schmidt handles the launch, sir."

As soon as his party had hurried aboard, Darrin gave the order to cast off. Under slow speed astern the launch joined Lieutenant Cantor's craft.

"I'm glad that I'm to have you on shore tonight with me, Coxswain," said Dave, heartily.

"Thank you, sir," answered the coxswain, saluting and actually blushing with pleasure.

Soon after Dan's launch ranged up with the other two, and the "Long Island" was vanishing in the distance ahead, not a light showing, for it is the privilege of the commander of a war vessel to sail without lights, when the interests of the services may be furthered thereby. Nor did any of the launches display lights.

As each of the boats was to run at slow speed, it was hoped that each landing party would reach shore without detection.

Lieutenant Cantor went over the instructions once more, talking in low tones across the water.

"And above all, remember that there is to be no fighting," Cantor added, impressively, looking straight into Darrin's eyes.

"Punk orders, when each man is provided with a hundred rounds of rifle ammunition, and when each automatic gun is supplied with two thousand rounds!" grumbled Coxswain Riley, under his breath.

"Gentlemen, you will now get under way," ordered Lieutenant Cantor.

"You will remember each sentence of your instructions!"

Silently, two of the launches stole away into the night, bound east and west, while the third launch awaited the time to start shoreward.

On Darrin's launch there was little talking, and that in whispers.

Dave had made a most careful study of the map, and felt certain that he could give the course straight into the lagoon on which the Acunda mill stood.

"Coxswain Schmidt," said Ensign Darrin, in a low voice, when still some four miles away from the proposed place of landing, "when you are close enough to shore to signal the engineer, you will do so by hand signal, not by use of the bell. Seaman Berne will watch for your signals, and convey them to the engineer."

"Very good, sir," replied both coxswain and seaman.

"Probably it won't be my luck to find the American captives at the Acunda plantation," murmured Darrin.

None the less, when he at last sighted the lagoon, his heart began to beat excitedly.

Under reduced speed, now, the launch stole into the lagoon. Less than a quarter of a mile from shore the sugar mill, deserted since the rebellion first took acute form, stood out dimly against the dark sky.

To within a hundred and fifty yards of the mill the launch ran, then swung in at a nearly ruined old wharf.

Ensign Dave Darrin was first to step ashore, signing to his men to follow him with all stealth.

"Corporal," Darrin whispered, "unless summoned later, you will stand by the launch with your men, to prevent it being rushed in case the bandits are abroad to-night. Coxswain Riley, you will form your men loosely and follow me, keeping about a hundred yards to the rear, making no sound as you advance."

Officer and men were all in dark uniforms, which in the blackness of the night would not be seen at any distance, whereas the white tropical uniforms would have immediately betrayed the raiders.

About seven hundred feet beyond the sugar mill Darrin had already located the house. Like the old mill, the residence was in darkness.

Not a light shone, nor was there a sound to be heard.

"This eerie stretch of ground makes one think of a graveyard," thought Darrin, with a comical little shiver, as his left hand gripped his sword scabbard tightly to prevent it clanking against his left heel.

He turned to look behind him. Riley and twelve armed seamen were following him like so many unsubstantial spectres.

Past the mill, and down the road to the house strode Darrin, but his moving feet made hardly a sound.

A little before the house ran a line of flowering tropical hedge.

Darrin gained this, and was about to pass in through an opening in the hedge when a figure suddenly appeared in the darkness right ahead of him.

A rifle was leveled at the young ensign's breast, and in a steady voice came the hail that set the young ensign's heart to beating fast:  "Quien vive"

It was the Spanish challenge—"Who goes there?"

VII. Dave Darrin to the Rescue

Dave's sword hung at his side. His revolver was in its scabbard over his left hip, but just out of view of the sentry.

As to his being in uniform, he realized that the night was so dark that there was little danger of his nationality being discovered.

All these thoughts flashed through his mind in a twinkling, as they should with a good officer.

Darrin's course of action was as swiftly decided.

"Amigo," he replied, tranquilly. "Amigo de los prisoneros!" (Friends of the prisoners).

By the time the second explanation had left his lips Dave had bounded forward, struck aside the rifle, and had gripped the sentry by the throat, bearing him to the ground.

A blow from one of the young ensign's fists, and the fellow lay still.

Espying trouble from the rear, Coxswain Riley started his men on a swift run toward the spot. In a few moments the sentry, doubtless badly scared, had been gagged, and bound hand and foot with the handy hitches of jack tars.

"Leave him there," Darrin directed in an undertone. "Coxswain, post eight men around the house, and take command of them. I will take the other four men with me."

Swiftly Darrin led his little squad around to the rear of the house, since the front was closed and dark.

A doorway stood open, showing a room lighted by two candles that stood on a table. Around the table were seven men, eating and drinking. Plainly they had not heard the brief scuffle at the front.

With a nod to his four men Darrin led the way inside. Instantly the seven men were on their feet, staring wildly at the intruders.

One man started for a stack of rifles that stood in a corner, but Ensign Darrin hurled him back.

"Don't let any man reach for a gun, or draw any sort of weapon,"

Darrin ordered, quickly.

Then to the Mexicans, in Spanish, Dave shouted:

"Stand where you are, and no harm will be done to you. We have not come here to molest you, but you hold Americans prisoners here, and we mean to take them away with us."

"No, no," answered one of the Mexicans, smilingly, "you are mistaken.

We have no prisoners here."

Dave's heart sank within him for one brief moment. Had he made a mistake in invading this house, only to find that his mission was to be fruitless? Then he suspected Mexican treachery.

"Pardon me," he urged in Spanish, "if I satisfy myself that you are telling the truth. Stand where you are, all of you, and no harm shall come to you. But don't make the mistake of moving or of reaching for weapons."

Darrin strode swiftly past the group and stepped into a hallway, in which were stairs leading above.

"Are there any Americans here," he shouted, "who want help? If so, there are American sailors here ready to give aid."

From above there came a single exclamation of joy, followed by a scurrying of feet.

From above sounded a voice demanding in Spanish:

"Shall I let the prisoners go?"

"You will have to," answered the same voice that had answered Dave. "We are attacked by los marineros Americanos." (American sailors).

For the men in the other room now knew that there were more than these four seamen at hand. As soon as he heard voices inside Riley had cleverly caused his men to walk about the house with heavy tread, and the Mexicans believed themselves to be outnumbered.

"Is it true that there are American sailors below?" called a man's husky voice.

"A detachment from the United States Navy, sir," Dave replied, gleefully. "Are you Mr. Carmody?"

"Yes, yes!"

"Then bring down your party. We have force enough to resist any attempt to hold you, and if any harm is offered you, we shall avenge it. Shall I come upstairs for you, Mr. Carmody?"

"If you don't mind," answered the voice of the man above. "There are two guards up here who seem undecided whether to shoot us or to let us pass."

Instantly Ensign Darrin ran to the stairs, mounting them. Yet he was careful to take no chance of being surprised in the dark, for he well understood the treachery of the natives with whom he had to deal.

However, Darrin reached the landing unattacked. Down the hallway he saw an open door, through which a dim light shone. Before the door were two Mexicans, each armed with a rifle.

"You will permit the American party to pass," Dave commanded, bluntly, in the best Spanish that he had learned at Annapolis.

One of the sentries again called out loudly, demanding instructions from below.

"You will have to let the prisoners pass," came from downstairs.

At that both sentries moved away from the door.

"Will you be good enough to come out?" Darrin called, keeping his eye on the two guards, who stood glowering sullenly at him.

He had not drawn his revolver, and did not wish to do so.

The door was cautiously opened and a man's head appeared. One look at Dave and the door was flung wide by a tall, serious-eyed man whose hair was gray at the temples.

"Come," he called to those behind him. "I see the uniform of our own Navy. I never paid much attention to it before, but at thus moment it's the most welcome sight in the world."

Head erect, shoulders thrown back, an expression of deep gratitude in his eyes, John Carmody stepped out into the hallway.

Behind him was a middle-aged woman, followed by two pretty girls.

Then came another woman, younger than the first, who led two boys, one of four years, the other of six.

"I was sent here," Dave announced, cap in hand, "to find and rescue John Carmody, his wife and two sons, and a Mrs. Deeming and her two daughters."

"We are they," Mr. Carmody declared.

"Do you know of any other prisoners, Americans or otherwise, who are held here by the bandits, sir?" Ensign Darrin inquired.

"I do not know of any other captives here," replied Mr. Carmody, promptly. "In fact, I do not believe there are any others."

"Mr. Carmody, if you will lead your party down the stairs and through the hallway to the room at the end of the passage, I will bring up the rear of this little American procession."

Mr. Carmody obeyed without hesitation. One after another the trembling women followed, Mrs. Carmody leading her two young sons.

Out in the hallway Mr. Carmody caught sight of the sailors, who stood revealed in the light of the room, as with watchful eyes they held the seven Mexicans at bay.

"Mr. Carmody," called Dave, just before he entered that room,

"I will ask you to lead your party out of doors. You will find other American sailors there, sir."

Entering the room, Dave stood, cap still in hand, until the last of the American women had passed into the open. Then, replacing his cap, the young naval officer turned to the Mexican who had spoken to the others and who now stood sullenly eyeing the sailors.

"I have carried out my orders," Dave declared, in Spanish. "I regret that I have no authority to punish you as you deserve.

Instead, therefore, I will wish you good night."

Signing to his sailors to pass out before him, Dave was the last to leave the room. All four of the young sailors, however, stood just outside, where their rifles might sweep the room, at need, until their officer had passed out.

"Hicks," called Dave, to one of the party of sailors who had surrounded the house, "lead these people to the water. The rest of us will bring up the rear."

Seeing the women and children of his party under safe guidance, Mr. Carmody turned back to speak to their rescuer.

"Sir," asked the older man, "did you know that, on account of the failure to raise the ransom money, we were all, even the babies, to be put to death at sunrise?"

"Yes, sir," Dave nodded.

"Then perhaps you are able to understand the gratitude to which I shall endeavor to give some expression as soon as we are in a place of safety."

"It is not my wish to hear expressions of gratitude, Mr. Carmody,"

Dave Darrin answered. "As to safety, however, I fancy we are safe enough already."

Mr. Carmody shook his head energetically.

"We have twenty men to the nine we saw in that house," Dave smiled.

"Surely they will not endeavor to attack us."

"Cosetta, the bandit, was he to whom you spoke in the house," replied John Carmody. "He has but a few men in the house, but there are twenty or thirty more sleeping in the stables behind the house. Altogether, unless he has sent some away, he must have more than sixty men hereabouts."

"Then we must go on the double quick to our boat," returned Darrin.

"Hicks," he called down the straggling line, which was now just outside the grounds and headed toward the mill, "keep the whole party moving as rapidly as possible."

Yet Darrin was not afraid for himself, for he halted while the party hastened forward, scanning the darkness to his rear. Seeing the ensign standing there alone, Riley and half a dozen sailors came running back.

"I'm afraid you're headed the wrong way, Riley," smiled Dave.

"I hear there is a large force behind us, and we must embark as rapidly as possible."

"It won't take us long to tumble into the launch, sir," the coxswain replied, doggedly, "but we won't leave our officer behind. We couldn't think of doing it."

"Not even under orders?" Darrin inquired.

"We'd hate to disobey orders, sir," Riley mumbled, looking rather abashed, "but——"

"Hark!" called Dave, holding up a hand.

Back of the flowering hedge he heard the swift patter of bare feet.

Out of the darkness came a flash of a pistol shot. It was answered instantly by a ragged but crashing volley.

Long tongues of flame spat out into the night. The air was full of whistling bullets.

Pseu! pss-seu! pss-seu! Sang the steel-jacketed bullets about the ears of the Americans.

Then the sailor nearest Ensign Dave Darrin fell to the ground with a stifled gasp.

VIII. Disobedience of Orders

Outnumbered, the Americans did not falter.

Save for Hicks, the guide, and the wounded man, the sailors threw themselves automatically to one knee, bringing their rifles to "ready."

For a moment Ensign Darrin felt sick at heart. He was under orders not to fire, to employ no armed force in a way that might be construed as an act of war in the country of another nation.

Yet here were his men being fired upon, one already wounded, and American women and children in danger of losing their lives.

Perhaps it was against orders, as given, but the real military commander is sometimes justified in disregarding orders.

At the first sound of shots all of the sailors, except Hicks, came running back, crouching close to earth. As soon as they reached the thin little line the men knelt and waited breathlessly.

Dave's resolution was instantly taken. Though he might hang for his disobedience of orders, he would not tamely submit to seeing his men shot down ruthlessly.

Still less would he permit American women and children to be endangered.

Orders, or no orders— "Ready, men!" he shouted, above the sharp reports of the Cosetta rifle fire. "Aim low at the hedge! Fire at will!"

Cr-r-r-rack! rang out the American Navy rifles.

Filled with the fighting enthusiasm of the moment, Darrin drew his automatic revolver, firing ten shots swiftly at different points along the hedge.

From behind that screen came cries of pain, for the Mexican is an excitable individual, who does not take his wounds with the calmness evinced by an American.

Another American sailor had dropped. John Carmody, who had remained with the defending party, snatched up one of the rifles. Standing, he rushed in a magazine full of bullets, then bent to help himself to more from the belt of the rifle's former carrier.

Fitting his revolver with a fresh load of cartridges, Dave held his fire for any emergency that might arise.

A marine dashed up, nearly out of breath.

"Sir," panted the marine, "Corporal Ross wants to know if you want to order the Colt gun and the marines up here."

"No," Dave decided instantly. "Help one of our wounded men back to the launch and tell Corporal Ross to remain where he is. Is the Colt loaded and ashore?"

"Yes, sir; ready for instant action."

"Did Hicks get the women and children to the launch?"

"No sir; he has hidden them behind the lower end of the sugar mill. The air is too full of bullets to expose the women to them."

"Good for Hicks! Tell him I said so. He is to remain where he is until either the Mexicans' fire ceases or he receives different orders from me."

"Very good, sir."

Stooping, the marine picked up the worse injured of the two wounded sailors and swiftly bore him away in his arms.

"Cease firing!" shouted Darrin, running along his valiant little line of sailors. "Load your magazines and let the rifles cool until the Mexicans start up again."

For, with the exception of a shot here and there from behind the hedge, the destructive fire had ceased.

"We must have hit a few of them," chuckled Darrin to John Carmody, who stood beside him.

"I hope you killed them all," replied the planter. "They're brutes, when they have their own way."

"Riley!"

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Pass the word to the men and we'll slip back. I don't like the silence behind the hedge. I suspect that the men have been withdrawn and that we are to be flanked below the sugar mill. Tell the men to fall back by rushes, not returning any fire unless ordered."

"Aye, aye, sir."

A moment later ten jackies were retreating. They gained the sugar mill, and passed it.

"Hicks," called Ensign Darrin, "get your party aboard. Run for it!"

"Aye, aye, sir."

"And help this wounded man back to the launch."

The sailor, who had been carrying the second wounded man, turned him over to Hicks, who carried his burden manfully.

Dave continued to retreat more slowly with his fighting force, taking frequent observations rearward. From the hedge a few, sniping shots came now and then, but, as no one was hit, Darrin did not allow the fire to be returned.

Suddenly, three hundred yards away, a volley crashed out on the right.

"Flanked!" muttered Darrin, grimly, as Riley threw his men into line to meet the new attack. "I expected it. Aim two feet above the ground, men, and fire at will until you have emptied your magazines twice."

Down by the launch, and not thirty feet from the wharf, stood Corporal Ross with his marines and the Colt machine gun. The marines were wild to join in the firing, but would not do so until ordered. Darrin was loath to let them draw the enemy's fire until the women had been made as safe as possible on the launch.

As the American firing ceased, Dave called the order:

"Load magazines, but reserve fire. Rush three hundred feet closer to the wharf and then halt and form again."

This move was carried out, but a third sailor dropped wounded.

As a lull came in the firing, Ensign Darrin blew a signal on his whistle. In response, two marines came sprinting to the spot.

"Take this wounded man to the launch," Darrin ordered.

"Corporal Ross hopes, sir, you'll soon give him leave to turn the machine gun loose," one of the marines suggested respectfully.

"I'll give the order as soon as the time comes," Darrin promised.

"Tell Corporal Ross that one flash from my pocket lamp will mean 'open fire,' and that two flashes will mean 'cease firing.' "Very good, sir."

The wounded man was borne away. Again Dave attempted a rush, then reformed his men, this time not more than two hundred and fifty feet from the stern of the launch.

"Riley!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

"You will take command here. I must see to the safety of our passengers."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Fire when you think best, but do not let the men waste ammunition.

We have but a hundred rounds apiece."

"I know it, sir."

Then Dave dashed down to the wharf, just before which stood Corporal Ross looking the picture of disappointment. He had hoped for permission to open fire.

Ensign Darrin and John Carmody ran to the launch together. Aided by Coxswain Schmidt, Hicks had done his work well, placing the women and children flat along the bottom of the craft, where they were little likely to be found by flying bullets.

Again the fire had slackened. Dave stood with the marines, peering into the blackness beyond.

"Can't you call in your party and make a quick dash down the lagoon?" inquired John Carmody, approaching, a rifle still gripped by one hand and a cartridge-belt thrown over one shoulder.

"We can't travel fast in the lagoon, sir," Dave answered, "and Cosetta's men can run as fast along the shore, keeping up a fire that would be more deadly when we're crowded together aboard the launch. I want to silence the scoundrel's fire, if possible, before we try the dash out into the Gulf."

"You appear to have discouraged the men who flanked you," said Mr. Carmody, looking towards the shore.

"Yes, sir; but, judging by the rifle flashes there were not more than twenty men in that flanking party. We still have to hear from another body, and I believe they are hiding in the mill, ready to snipe us from there. Besides, probably a smaller party has been sent from the flankers to lie in wait and get us as we go through the lagoon. It's a bad trap, Mr. Carmody, and we must move slowly, if we wish to get away with our lives."

While they stood watching, Riley's handful of men came running to the spot.

At the same moment shots rang out from the roof of the sugar mill.

"There we are!" Darrin exclaimed. "And men on a roof are the hardest to hit."

In a jiffy a yell rose from the flankers, who now rose and came charging forward across some four hundred feet of intervening space.

"Give 'em the Colt, Corporal!" Ensign Darrin roared.

There was a yell of rage from the Mexicans as the machine gun barked forth. With the muzzle describing an arc of several degrees, many of the flankers were hit. The others threw themselves flat on the ground to escape its destructive fire.

From the mill another score of charging Mexicans had started, yelling in Spanish:

"Death to the Gringos."

Leaping forward, Darrin felt a sudden sting of pain in his right foot. A bullet, sent in low, had ripped the sole of his shoe, inflicting a painful wound.

"Cease firing, Corporal!" Dave ordered, hobbling to the machine gun. "Swing her nose around. Now, give it to 'em."

As the machine gun barked forth again the raiders from the mill found good excuse for halting. There are times when a machine gun is worth a battalion of infantry.

Yet one bullet is enough to kill a man. A marine fell at Dave's feet. The young ensign bent over him; one look was enough to prove that this defender of his countrymen was dead.

As the fire from the machine gun ceased, a wild cheer rose on the air. Now, from four different points groups of Mexicans rose and charged, firing as they ran.

One desperate dash, and they would overwhelm the crippled little Navy party.

Defeat for Dave Darrin's command meant the massacre of all the survivors of his rescue party, and of the American men and women in their care!

Ensign Dave Darrin realized this with a sickening heart.

IX. Cantor Finds His Chance

Prompt action alone could save the women and children who lay cowering in the launch.

"Corporal, kneel with your men, and let them have it as fast as you can!" ordered Dave. "Riley, get your men into the boat, and take the Colt with you. Post it as fast as you can on the starboard quarter!"

Dave himself stood behind the kneeling marines, a fair target for every hostile bullet.

John Carmody, too, felt in honor bound to risk himself beside the young Navy ensign.

"All sea-going, sir!" called Coxswain Riley. "Schmidt, make ready to cast off," sang back Darrin.

Now the different groups of Mexicans, who had been halted for a minute under the brisk fire, saw their prey slipping away from them.

With yells of fury, Cosetta's men rose and attempted the final charge.

"Marines aboard!" yelled Darrin.

Almost in the same instant, loaded revolver in hand, Dave sprang to the gunwale and landed on the after deck.

Without waiting for the order from his chief, Schmidt cast off, with the aid of the single sailor under his own command. The engineer went ahead at slow speed for a few seconds while Riley steered the launch clear of the wharf and headed for deeper, safer water.

"Half speed ahead!" shouted Darrin, as Schmidt sprang to the wheel, while Riley, snatching up his rifle, joined the fighting men.

Uttering howls of rage as they saw their prey escaping them, the Mexicans rushed out onto the wharf in a mad attempt to board before it was too late.

Three men would have succeeded in boarding the launch, had they not been shot down as they leaped for the after deck.

"Give it to them with the Colt, Corporal!" Dave called. "Every other man fire with his rifle!"

Before he had finished speaking, the reloaded Colt belched forth its rain of death. It was the machine gun, with its muzzle swiftly turning in an arc of a circle that did the most execution among the outlaws, but the riflemen did their share.

Until his rifle barrel was too hot to hold in his hands, John Carmody shot rapidly, yet coolly putting into his work all the pent-up indignation that he had felt for days against Cosetta and his men.

"Stop the gun!" ordered Dave Darrin, resting a hand on the shoulder of the marine corporal. "Don't waste its fire."

The launch was now free of the shore, and moving down the lagoon at half speed. On the wharf fully a score of Mexicans either lay dead or dying.

Dave's spoken order to the engineer caused the launch to increase its speed.

"Line up at the starboard rail," Dave called to the men grouped about him. "We're going to catch it from the shore."

The launch was a few hundred yards down the lagoon when Darrin, alertly watching, made out several figures on the eastern shore.

Patiently he waited until the first flash from a rifle was seen, which was followed instantly by the report and the "pss-seu!" of a bullet.

"Let 'em have the rest of what's in the Colt," the young ensign directed, calmly. "Men, don't fire too rapidly, but keep up your work. We want to be remembered by Cosetta, if he has the good luck to be still alive."

It was neither a heavy nor an accurate fire that came now from the enraged Mexicans. Helped out by the Colt, the fire from the moving craft was sharp enough to discourage the rapidly diminishing ardor of the miscreants on shore.

Just as the launch rounded the point of land at the mouth of the lagoon, and stood out into open water at full speed, a stray bullet killed Seaman Hicks.

"Yes, sir, he's dead, poor fellow!" exclaimed Riley, looking up as Ensign Dave stepped hastily forward for a look at his man.

"Hicks was a fine sailor too."

"For a party that wasn't expected to fight," returned Darrin wearily,

"we've had a pretty big casualty list—two killed, and three wounded."

"You're wounded yourself, sir," exclaimed Riley.

"Oh, my boot was cut," Darrin assented, indifferently.

"Look at your wrist, sir," urged the young Coxswain.

Dave glanced down at his left wrist, to find it covered with blood.

"It must look worse than it is," Darrin commented, listlessly.

"I didn't even feel it."

"It will need attention, sir, just the same," Riley urged. "Let me fix it up, sir, with a first aid bandage."

There was a water cask aboard. As the launch was now out of close range, and the Mexicans had apparently given up firing, Riley brought a cup of water, poured it over the wrist, and wiped away the blood.

"A scratch, as I thought," smiled Dave. "Not even enough to get excused from watch duty."

"You'll have it dressed, sir, won't you, as soon as you get aboard the 'Long Island' again?" urged Riley, applying the sterilized bandage with swift skill. "If the scoundrels used any of the brass-jacketed bullets of which they're so fond, a scratch like that might lead to blood poisoning, sir."

In a few minutes more the launch was out of rifle range. Dave ordered the course changed to east by north-east, in order to reach the rendezvous of the three launches.

"Steamer ahead, sir!" sang out the bow lookout, a few minutes later.

"Whereaway?" called Darrin, moving forward.

"Three points off starboard bow, sir," replied the sailorman.

"It looks like our own launch, sir."

By this time Darrin was well forward. He peered closely at the approaching craft, for she might be a Mexican Federal gunboat that had fallen into the hands of rebels or outlaws.

"It's our own launch," pronounced Darrin, a minute later. He reached for the whistle pull and blew three blasts of welcome, which were promptly answered.

The two craft now neared each other. "Launch ahoy, there!" called a voice from the bow of the other craft.

"Aye, aye, sir!" Darrin answered.

"Is that you, Ensign Darrin?"

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Lay to. I am coming alongside."

As the launch under Dave's command lost headway, then lay idly on the light ground swell, the other launch circled about her, then came up under the port quarter.

"Did you find the American party, Ensign Darrin?" demanded Lieutenant Cantor.

"Yes, sir; I have the entire party aboard and uninjured."

"Was there any trouble?" asked Cantor.

"Yes, sir. We were fired upon, and forced to defend ourselves."

"You fired upon the natives?" exclaimed Lieutenant Cantor, in an \ astonished tone.

"I had to, sir."

"In the face of orders not to fight?" pressed Dave's enemy.

"Sir, if I had not fought, I would have lost my entire command,"

Darrin answered, with an indignation that he could not completely veil.

"Ensign Darrin," came the sharp rebuke,

"You have disobeyed the orders of Captain Gales, which were repeated by me just before we parted company. Did your fire hit any of the Mexicans?"

"I think we must have done so, sir," Dave returned dryly. "Several of them lay down, at all events."

"Any losses in your own command?" pressed Cantor.

"Two men killed and four wounded."

"The consequences of disobedience of orders, sir!" cried Lieutenant Cantor, angrily. "Ensign Darrin, I am certain that you should not have been entrusted with the command of a launch."

"That sounds like a reflection on the Captain's judgment, sir!"

Dave rejoined, rather warmly.

"No unnecessary remarks," thundered Cantor. "I shall not place you in arrest, but on our return to the ship I shall report at once your flagrant disobedience of orders."

Darrin did not answer, but the hot blood now surged to his head, suffusing his cheeks. He was deeply humiliated.

"Young man, if you call that good sense," rumbled the deep voice of John Carmody, "then I don't agree with you. You condemn Darrin——"

"Who is speaking?" roared Lieutenant Cantor.

"My name is John Carmody," returned the planter, coolly.

"Then be good enough to remain silent," commanded Cantor.

"Since I'm on a government boat," retorted the planter, "I suppose I may as well do as I'm ordered. But at some other time I shall air my opinion of you, young man, as freely as I please."

Lieutenant Cantor bit his lips, then gave the order to proceed to the appointed rendezvous.

As Cantor's launch neared Dalzell's steamer, the lieutenant ordered a rocket sent up. From away over on the horizon an answering rocket was seen.

Forty minutes later the "Long Island" lay to close by. Cantor's launch was the first to go in alongside.

"Were you successful?" hailed the voice of the executive officer from the bridge.

"Ensign Darrin was, sir," Cantor replied, through the megaphone.

"Are all the missing Americans safe?"

"Yes, sir," Cantor continued.

"And all our own men?"

"Two killed, sir, and four wounded, through what I believe to be disobedience of orders."

Instructions came for Lieutenant Cantor's launch to lay alongside.

Soon after the men were on deck and the launch hoisted into place.

Then, under orders, Darrin ran alongside. First of all his wounded men were passed on hoard, being there received by hospital stewards from the sick bay. Then, amid impressive silence, the two dead men were taken on board.

"Ensign Darrin," directed the officer of the deck, from the bridge,

"you are directed to report to Captain Gales, at once."

Saluting, and holding himself very erect, Dave Darrin stepped proudly aboard. His face was white and angry as he neared the captain's quarters, but the young ensign strove to command himself, and tried to keep his sorely tried temper within bounds.

"You will pass inside, sir, at once," directed the marine orderly, as the young officer halted near the door.

Acknowledging the marine's salute, Dave Darrin passed him and entered the office.

Lieutenant Cantor, erect and stern, faced Captain Gales, who looked the sterner of the two.

"Ensign Darrin," began the battleship's commanding officer, rising, "most serious charges have been preferred against you, sir!"

X. Dave is Stung to the Quick

Ensign Darrin bowed, then awaited further communication from his commanding officer.

"It was particularly set forth in the orders," resumed Captain Gales, "that any form of conflict was to be avoided by the expedition of which you commanded a part, was it not?"

"It was, sir," Darrin admitted.

"And yet, by the report which Lieutenant Cantor has turned in, you opened fire on Cosetta and his band and have returned to ship with two men killed and four men wounded. Is that report correct?"

"It is, sir," admitted the young ensign, "with one exception."

"State the exception, Ensign Darrin," ordered the captain, coldly.

"The exception, sir, is that Cosetta's fellows opened fire on us first."

Dave Darrin stood looking straight into Captain Gales's eyes.

"Ensign Darrin, did you do anything to provoke that fire?" asked the commanding officer.

"Yes, sir," Dave admitted.

"Ah!" breathed Captain Gales, while Cantor gave an almost inaudible ejaculation of triumph.

"What was it, sir, that you did to provoke Cosetta into ordering his fellows to fire?" questioned Captain Gales.

"Why, sir, I found and rescued the Americans after whom you sent me," Dave explained. "They were Cosetta's prisoners. There was not a shot fired on either side until after I had placed the released prisoners under the protection of my own men, and had started away with them. Then the Mexican bandits opened fire on us."

"Couldn't you have escaped without returning the fire?"

"We might have been able to do so, sir."

"Then why didn't you?" pressed the captain.

"Because, sir, I felt sure that we would lose most of our men if we tamely submitted, and ran, pursued by superior numbers, to our launch. Moreover, I was much afraid that some of the Americans we were trying to rescue would be hit."

"In your judgment, Ensign Darrin, there was no other course open save to return the fire?"

"That was my exact judgment of the situation, sir," replied the young ensign earnestly.

"And still is your best judgment?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Hm!" commented Captain Gales. "And yet you have returned to ship with your casualties amounting to thirty per cent of your command, and one-third of your casualties are fatalities."

"Those are the facts, sir," interposed Lieutenant Cantor. "Therefore, in the face of fighting against orders, and sustaining such losses to his own immediate command, I felt it my duty, sir, to prefer charges against Ensign Darrin."

"This is a most unfortunate affair, sir," commented Captain Gales.

Dave Darrin felt the hot blood mounting to his face. He tried to control his wrath, but could not refrain from asking a question.

"Sir, do you wish me to hand my sword to you?" he said gravely, with a quick movement of his right hand toward his sword hilt.

"Not yet, at any rate," answered Captain Gales, calmly. "I wish to hear your story."

"Very good, sir," Dave returned, then plunged at once into a narrative that was stripped to the bare facts. He told everything from the landing of his men to the final escape from the lagoon under Mexican fire.

"Of course, sir, Coxswain Riley and Corporal Ross will be able to bear me out as to the facts of which they have knowledge.

And I would suggest, sir," Darrin added, "that Mr. Carmody, who knows more of Cosetta than any of us, will be able to give you an excellent opinion of whether I was obliged to throw my command into the fight."

"How much of your ammunition did you bring back?" asked Captain Gales, his face betraying nothing of his inward opinion.

"All the Colt ammunition was used, sir."

"And the rifle ammunition?"

"I do not believe, sir, that any man brought back more than three or four of his cartridges. Some of the men, undoubtedly, have no ammunition left."

"It is evident, sir," hinted Lieutenant Cantor, "that Ensign Darrin did his best to bring on an engagement. And his thirty per cent casualty list——"

"Thank you, Lieutenant," broke in Captain Gales. "The number of casualties, while unfortunate, is to be justified only by a decision as to whether it was expedient and right to engage the brigand, Cosetta."

Lieutenant Cantor's only comment was an eloquent shrug of his shoulders.

"Ensign Darrin," continued Captain Gales, "if your story is true in every detail, then it would appear to me that your action, while I regret the necessity for it, could hardly be avoided.

In that case, your conduct does not appear to render you liable to censure. Until further notice you will continue in your duties.

Lieutenant Cantor will, as early as possible, turn in a written report of the work of the expedition, and you, Ensign Darrin, will make a written report on your own part in the affair. You will make your report through Lieutenant Cantor, who will hand it to me with his own report. Lieutenant Cantor, in his report, will make such comment on Ensign Darrin's statements as he sees fit. You may go to your quarters, Darrin, and begin your report."

"Very good, sir," Darrin returned. Saluting, he left the office.

Out in the passage-way Dave encountered Dan, who had been waiting for him.

"What's in the wind?" asked Danny Grin, eyeing Dave anxiously.

"Cantor," Dave returned, grimly.

"Is he trying to make trouble for you because you behaved like a brave man?" Dan asked, angrily.

"That is his plan."

"The contemptible hound!" ejaculated Dan Dalzell. "Do you think he is going to succeed in putting it over on you?"

"That's more than I can predict," Darrin answered his chum. "Cantor is a bright man, and in rascality I believe him to be especially efficient."

"I'd like to call the fellow out!" muttered Dan.

"Don't think of it," Dave Darrin urged, hastily, for he knew only too well the quality of Danny Grin's temper when it was fully aroused. "A challenge would suit Cantor to the skies, for it would enable him to have my best friend kicked out of the Navy."

"I won't think of it, then," promised Ensign Dalzell, "unless that fellow tries my temper to the breaking point."

Dave went hastily to his own quarters, where he laid aside his sword and revolver, bathed and dressed himself. Then he sent a messenger in search of a typewriting machine. When that came Darrin seated himself before it. Rapidly, he put down all the essential circumstances of the night's work.

Scanning the sheets closely, Dave made two or three minor changes in his report, then signed it.

Through a messenger, Darrin inquired if Lieutenant Cantor could receive him. A reply came back that Dave might report to him at once.

"This is my report, sir," Dave announced, Dave was about to turn on his heel and leave the room, when Lieutenant Cantor stopped him with:

"Wait a few moments, if you please, Darrin. I wish to run hastily through your report."

Declining the offer of a chair, Darrin remained standing stiffly.

As he went through the report, Cantor frowned several times.

At last he laid the signed sheets down on his desk.

"Darrin," asked the division commander, "do you realize that you are out of place in the Navy?"

"I do not, sir," Dave answered, coldly.

"Well, you are," pursued Lieutenant Cantor. "With your talents you should engage in writing the most improbable kinds of romances."

"That report is true in every respect, sir," Dave frowned.

"It appears to me to be a most improbable report—as highly improbable as any official report that I have ever seen."

"The report is true in every detail," repeated Dave, his face flushing.

Lieutenant Cantor rose from his desk, facing his angry subordinate.

"You lie!" he declared, coldly.

"You cur!" Dave Darrin hissed back, his wrath now at white heat.

Instantly he launched a blow full at Cantor's face. The lieutenant warded it off.

Within three or four seconds several blows were aimed on both sides, without landing, for both were excellent boxers.

Then Dave drove in under Cantor's guard with his left hand, while with his right fist he struck the lieutenant a blow full on the face that sent him reeling backward.

Clutching wildly, Cantor seized a chair, carrying it over with himself as he landed on the floor.

In an instant Lieutenant Cantor was on his feet, brandishing the chair aloft.

"Ensign Darrin," he cried, "you have made the error of striking a superior officer when on duty!"

XI. A Brother Officer's Whisper

"I know it," Dave returned, huskily.

"You have committed a serious breach of discipline," blazed the lieutenant.

"I have struck down a fellow who demeaned himself by insulting his subordinate," Darrin returned, his voice now clear and steady.

"Lieutenant Cantor, do you consider yourself fit to command others?"

"Never mind what I think about myself," sneered the lieutenant.

"Go to your quarters!"

"In arrest?" demanded Dave Darrin, mockingly.

"No; but go to your quarters and remain there for the present.

You are likely to be summoned very soon."

Saluting, Ensign Dave turned ironically on his heel, going back to his quarters.

In an instant Danny Grin came bounding in.

"There's something up, isn't there?" Ensign Dalzell asked, anxiously.

"A moment ago there was something down," retorted Dave, grimly.

"It was Cantor, if any one asks you about it."

"You knocked him down?" asked Dan, eagerly.

"I did."

"Then you must have had an excellent reason."

"I did have a very fair reason," Darrin went on, "the fellow passed the lie."

"Called you a liar?"

"That was the purport of his insult," Dave nodded.

"I'm glad you knocked him down," Dalzell went on, fervently.

"Yet I see danger ahead."

"What danger?" Dave asked, dryly.

"Cantor will report your knock-down feat to Captain Gales."

"Let him. When he hears of the provocation Captain Gales will exonerate me. Cantor will have to admit that he deliberately insulted me."

"If Cantor does admit it," muttered Danny Grin, doubtfully. "I haven't any faith in Cantor's honor."

"Why, he'll have to do it," Dave contended, proudly. "Cantor is an officer in the United States Navy. Can you picture an officer as telling a deliberate falsehood?"

"It wouldn't be extremely difficult to picture Cantor as doing anything unmanly," Dan replied, slowly.

"Oh, but he couldn't tell a falsehood," Darrin protested. "That would be impossible—against all the traditions of the service."

"My infant," Dan retorted, "I am afraid that, some day, you will have a rude awakening."

While these events were happening Captain Gales was closely questioning John Carmody. Coxswain Riley and Corporal Ross of the marines had already been before him.

As Darrin left his division officer's quarters Cantor turned to wipe his stinging cheek, which he next examined closely in a glass.

Then he turned back to his desk, smiling darkly.

Rapidly he wrote his comment on Darrin's report, signed his own report, and then leaned back, thinking hard.

"I'll do it!" he muttered, the sinister smile appearing again.

Picking up his pen, He began to write a separate report, charging Ensign David Darrin with viciously knocking him down while on duty.

This report Cantor folded carefully, tucking it away in an inner pocket of his undress blouse. Then, gathering up the other reports in one hand, he pushed aside the curtain and stepped outside.

"Hullo, Trent," he offered, in greeting, as that officer suddenly appeared.

"Cantor, I want to talk with you for a moment," urged Lieutenant Trent.

"Just now, I am on my way to the commanding officer with official reports," Cantor objected.

"But what I have to say is urgent," Trent insisted. "Can't you spare me just a moment?"

"If you'll be extremely brief," Cantor agreed, reluctantly.

"You may think I am interfering," Trent went on, "but I wish to say that I heard that fracas in your quarters, between yourself and Darrin. I happened to be passing at the moment."

Cantor gave an uneasy start. He felt a moment's fright, but hastily recovered, for he was a quick thinker.

"It was outrageous, wasn't it, Trent?" he demanded.

"I should say that it was," replied his brother officer, though he spoke mildly.

"I don't know what to make of young Darrin," Cantor continued.

"First he insulted me, and then struck me."

"Knocked you down, didn't he?" asked Trent.

"Yes," nodded Cantor.

"What are you trying to do to that youngster?" asked Trent, coolly.

"What am I trying to do to him?" Cantor repeated, in seeming astonishment. "Nothing, of course, unless I'm driven to it. But Darrin insulted me, and then followed it up with a blow."

Trent fixed his brother officer with a rather contemptuous glance as he answered, stiffly.

"Cantor, there are two marines aft. Go and tell your version to the marines."

"Are you going to call me a liar, too?" demanded Cantor, his eyes blazing, as he turned a threatening face to Trent.

"Keep cool," urged Lieutenant Trent, "and you'll get out of this affair more easily than you would otherwise."

"But you spoke," argued Cantor, "as though you doubted my word.

If you were outside my door at the time, then you know that I asked Darrin, 'Am I a liar?' Then he struck me at once."

"Are you going to prefer charges against Darrin for knocking you down?" demanded Lieutenant Treat.

"I am most certainly," nodded Cantor, taping his breast pocket wherein hay the report.

"Then I am obliged to tell you, Cantor," Lieutenant Trent went on, "that at the courtmartial I shall be obliged to appear as one of Darrin's witnesses. Further, I shall be obliged to testify that you said to him, 'you lie.' Then Darrin knocked you down, as any other self-respecting man must have done."

"But I didn't tell him he lied," protested Cantor, with much seeming warmth. "On the contrary, I asked him if he meant to imply that I lied."

"That may be your version, Cantor," Lieutenant Trent rejoined,

"but I have just told you what my testimony will have to be."

"What's your interest in this Darrin fellow?" Cantor demanded, half-sneeringly.

"Why, in the first place," Trent answered, calmly, "I like Darrin.

And I regard him as an excellent, earnest, faithful, competent young officer."

"But why should you try to shield him, and throw me down, if this matter comes before a court-martial?"

"Because I am an officer," replied Trent, stiffly, drawing himself up, "and also, I trust, a gentleman. It is both my sworn duty and my inclination to see truth prevail at all times in the service."

"But think it over, Trent," urged Lieutenant Cantor. "Now, aren't you ready to admit that you heard me ask, 'Am I a liar'?"

"I can admit nothing of the sort," Trent returned. Then, laying a hand on the arm of the other lieutenant, Trent continued:

"Cantor, all the signs point to the belief that we shall be at war with Mexico at any time now. We can't afford to have the ward-room mess torn by any court-martial charges against any officer, unless he richly deserves the prosecution. Darrin doesn't; that I know. I have no right to balk any officer who demands a courtmartial of any one on board, but it is right and proper that I should he prepared to take oath as to what I know of the merits of the matter. I must assume, and I hope rightly, that you really have an erroneous recollection of what passed before the blow was struck.

Cantor, you have the reputation of being a hard master with young officers, but I know nothing affecting your good repute as an officer and a gentleman. I am ready to believe that you, yourself, have a wrong recollection of what you said, but I am very certain as to the exact form of the words that I heard passed. Good night!"

Barely returning the salutation, Cantor passed on to Captain Gales's office, to which he was promptly admitted.

The hour was late, but the commander of the "Long Island" was anxious to get at the whole truth of the evening's affair ashore, and so was still at his desk.

"Oh, I am glad to see you, Lieutenant Cantor," was the captain's greeting, as that officer appeared, after having sent in his compliments. "You have both reports?"

"Here they are, sir," replied the younger officer, laying them on the desk.

"Be seated, Lieutenant. I will go through these papers at once."

For some minutes there was silence in the room, save for the rustling of paper as Captain Gales turned a page.

At last he glanced up from the reading.

"I note, Lieutenant Cantor, that you are still of the opinion that the fight could have been avoided."

"That is my unalterable opinion, sir," replied the lieutenant.

"You are aware, of course, Mr. Cantor, that your report will form a part of the record that will go to the Navy Department, through the usual official channels?"

"I am well aware of that, sir."

"Have you any other papers to submit in connection with Ensign Darrin?"

For the barest instant Lieutenant Cantor hesitated.

Then he rose, as he replied:

"No other papers, sir."

"That is all, Lieutenant," nodded the captain, and returned his subordinate officer's salute.

XII. The Man of the Evil Eye

"The captain's compliments, sir, and will Ensign Darrin report to him immediately?"

Darrin had dressed for breakfast the morning after, but there were yet some minutes to spare before the call would come to the ward-room mess.

"My compliments to the captain, and I will report immediately,"

Ensign Dave replied.

Turning, he put on his sword and drew on his white gloves. Then, with a glance over himself, he left his quarters, walking briskly toward the commanding officer's quarters.

Captain Gales, at his desk, received the young ensign's salute.

On the desk lay the papers in the matter of the night before.

"Ensign, I have gone over the papers in last night's affair," began the "Old Man," as a naval vessel's commander is called, when not present.

"Yes, sir?"

The captain's face was inexpressive; it was impossible to tell what was going on in his mind.

"I have given careful attention to your report, and also to that of Lieutenant Cantor. I have talked with Mr. Carmody, and have asked Coxswain Riley and Corporal Ross some questions. And so I have come to the decision——"

Here the captain paused for an instant.

How Dave Darrin's heart thumped under his ribs. The next few words would convey either censure, criticism or exoneration!

"——that Lieutenant Cantor's charges are not well sustained," continued, Captain Gales.

Dave Darrin could not repress the gleam of joy that flashed into his eyes. The memory of the men killed under his command and the present sufferings of the wounded had preyed upon him through a long, wakeful night.

But here was a veteran in the service, prepared, after hearing all possible testimony, to declare that he, Darrin, was not blamable!

"I had hoped," resumed Captain Gales, "that the affair on shore could he conducted without firing a single shot, However, Ensign Darrin, the fact has been established to my satisfaction that you did your work well; that you did not allow your men to fire a shot until you had been attacked in force. Nor did you fire upon Mexican troups or reputable natives, but upon a body of bandits—outlaws—who are enemies of all mankind. Not to have returned the fire, under such circumstances, would have been censurable conduct. That several times through the night you held your party's fire, and at no time fired oftener than appeared to be absolutely necessary, is established by the eye-witnesses with whom I have talked. Nor were the losses to your command higher than might have been looked for in a fight against superior numbers, such as you encountered. I have endorsed these views of mine upon Lieutenant Cantor's report and also upon your own. I can find no fault with your course of action."

"I cannot tell you, sir, how highly I appreciate your decision."

"Of course you do, Darrin!" cried Captain Gales, holding out his hand. "No young officer in the service enjoys being censured when he has used the very best judgment with which Heaven has endowed him. No man of earnest effort, likes to have his motives questioned. And I am happy to say, Ensign Darrin, that I regard you as the same faithful, hardworking officer that I considered you when you had not been more than three days aboard the 'Long Island.' I congratulate you, Ensign, upon your skilful handling of a bad situation last night. Now, I am not going to keep you here longer, for mess call is due in two minutes, and you will want your breakfast."

With a heart full of joy and gratitude Dave hastened back to his quarters, where he laid aside his sword and gloves.

Just outside the ward-room door he encountered John Carmody, who appeared to have been waiting there purposely.

"Now, Mr. Darrin," cried the planter, holding out his hand, "I want to try to give you some idea of my gratitude for the magnificent work you did last night for my dear ones and our friends. I don't know how to begin, but——"

"Please don't try to begin," laughed Dave. "An officer of the American Navy should never be thanked for the performance of his duty. I can't tell you how delighted I am that my efforts were successful, and that the scoundrels, who had tried to violate Mexico's sacred duty of hospitality, were roundly punished. Tell me, sir, how are the ladies this morning?"

"All of them are in excellent spirits, Mr. Darrin. I suppose you have not seen them yet. They are in full possession of the captain's quarters, and are at breakfast now."

The breakfast call sounded, and in twos and threes the officers of the "Long Island," passed into the ward-room.

John Carmody was provided with a seat beside the chaplain.

"Darrin, you lucky dog!" called Lieutenant-Commander Denton, as soon as the officers were seated.

"Am I really fortunate?" Dave smiled back.

"Yes; for you were privileged to order the firing of the first shots in the Mexican war that is now close at hand. You are, or will be, historical, Darrin!"

Dave's face clouded as he replied, gravely:

"And I am also aware, sir, that I had the misfortune to lose the first men killed."

"That was regrettable," replied another officer, "but we of the Navy expect to go down some day. The two men who were killed died for the honor and credit of the service, and of the Flag, which we serve. It is the lot of all of us, Darrin. If war comes many a soldier and sailor will find an honored grave, and perhaps not a few here will lose their mess numbers. It's just the way of the service, Darrin!"

"Cantor, you were out of luck last night," observed Lieutenant Holton, who sat next to him.

"In what way?" asked Cantor, but he flushed deeply.

"You had only a boat ride, and missed the fight," replied Holton.

"Oh!" replied Cantor, and felt relieved, for he had thought that Holton referred to something else.

"Where are we heading now?" asked Dave.

"Didn't you notice the course?" inquired Dalzell.

"About westerly, isn't it?"

"Yes; we are bound for Vera Cruz," Danny Grin answered. "We shall be there in two hours. Mr. Carmody and his party have no notion of going back to their plantation at present. Instead, they'll take a steamer to New York."

Breakfast was nearly over when an orderly appeared, bringing an envelope, which he handed to Commander Bainbridge.

"Pardon me," said the executive officer to the officers on either side of him. Then he examined the paper contained in the envelope.

"Gentlemen," called Commander Bainbridge, "I have some information that I will announce to you, briefly, as soon as the meal is over."

Every eye was turned on the executive officer. After a few moments he continued:

"Yesterday, at Tampico, an officer and boatcrew of men went ashore in a launch from the 'dolplin.' The boat flew the United States Flag, and the officer and men landed to attend to the purchase of supplies. An officer of General Huerta's Federal Army arrested our officer and his men. They were released a little later, but Admiral Mayo demanded a formal apology and a salute of twenty-one guns to our insulted Flag. Some sort of apology has been made to Admiral Mayo, but it was not satisfactory, and the gun salute was refused. Admiral Mayo has sent the Mexican Federal commander at Tampico something very much like an ultimatum. Unless a satisfactory apology is made, and the gun salute is fired, the Washington government threatens to break off all diplomatic relations with Mexico and to make reprisals. That is the full extent of the news, so far as it has reached us by wireless."

"War!" exploded Lieutenant-Commander Eaton.

"We mustn't jump too rapidly at conclusions," Commander Bainbridge warned his hearers.

"But it does mean war, doesn't it?" asked Lieutenant Holton.

"That chap, Huerta, will be stiff-necked about yielding a gun salute after it has been refused, and Mexican pride will back him up in it. The Mexicans hate us as only jealous people can hate. The Mexicans won't give in. On the other hand, our country has always been very stiff over any insult to the Flag. So what hope is there that war can be averted? Reprisals between nations are always taken by the employment of force, and surely any force that we employ against Mexico can end in nothing less than war."

As the officers left the table nothing was talked of among them except the news from Tampico.

The rumor spread rapidly forward. Cheering was heard from the forecastle.

"The jackies have the word," chuckled Dan Dalzell. "They're sure to be delighted over any prospect of a fight."

"If we have a real fight," sighed Darrin, his mind on the night before, "a lot of our happy jackies will be sent home in boxes to their friends."

"A small lot the jackies care about that," retorted Danny Grin.

"Show me, if you can, anywhere in the world, a body of men who care less about facing death than the enlisted men in the United States Navy!"

"Of course we should have interfered in Mexico long ago," Dave went on. "Serious as the Flag incident is, there have been outrages ten-fold worse than that. I shall never be able to down the feeling that we have been, as a people, careless of our honor in not long ago stepping in to put a stop to the outrages against Americans that have been of almost daily occurrence in Mexico."

"If fighting does begin," asked Dalzell, suddenly, "where do we of the Navy come in? Shelling a few forts, possibly, and serving in the humdrum life of blockade duty."

"If we land in Mexico," Dave retorted, "there will be one stern duty that will fall to the lot of the Navy. The Army won't be ready in time for the first landing on Mexican soil. That will be the duty of the Navy. If we send a force of men ashore at Tampico, or possibly Vera Cruz, it will have to be a force of thousands of our men, for the Mexicans will resist stubbornly, and there'll be a lot of hard fighting for the Navy before Washington has the Army in shape to land. Never fear, Danny boy! We are likely to see enough active service!"

Dave soon went to the bridge to stand a trick of watch duty with Lieutenant Cantor.

For an hour no word was exchanged between the two officers. Cantor curtly transmitted orders through petty officers on the deck below.

Dave kept to his own, the starboard side of the bridge, his alert eyes on his duty. There was no chance to exchange even a word on the all-absorbing topic of the incident at Tampico.

Vera Cruz, lying on a sandy stretch of land that was surrounded by marshes, was soon sighted, and the "Long Island" stood in toward the harbor in which the Stars and Stripes fluttered from several other American warships lying at anchor.

A messenger from the executive officer appeared on the bridge with the information that, after the ship came to anchor, Ensign Dalzell would be sent in one of the launches to convey the Carmody party ashore.

There was no chance for the rescued ones to come forward to say good-bye to Darrin on the bridge, for they went over the port side into the waiting launch.

Dalzell, however, manoeuvred the launch so that she passed along the ship's side.

A call, and exclamations in feminine voices attracted Dave's notice.

"Mr. Darrin, Mr. Darrin!" called four women at once, as they waved their handkerchiefs to him. Dave, cap in hand, returned their salute.

"Thank you again, Mr. Darrin."

"We won't say good-bye," called Mrs. Carmody, "for we shall hope to meet you and your splendid boat-crew again."

At that the jackies on the forecastle set up a tremendous cheering.

Not until Dave had gone off duty did another launch put out from the "Long Island." That craft bore to one of the docks two metal caskets. Brief services had been held over the remains of the sailor and the marine killed the night before, and now the bodies were to be sent home to the relatives.

After luncheon a messenger summoned Ensign Darrin to Commander Bainbridge's office.

"Ensign Darrin," said the executive officer, "here are some communications to be taken ashore to the office of the American consul. You will use number three launch, and take a seaman orderly with you."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Darrin went over the side, followed by Seaman Rogers, who had been in the landing party the night before, Both were soon ashore.

Rogers, who knew where the consul's office was, acted as guide.

Crowds on the street eyed the American sailors with no very pleasant looks.

"Those Greasers are sullen, sir," said Seaman Rogers.

"I expected to find them so," Ensign Darrin answered.

They had not gone far when a man astride a winded, foam-flocked horse rode up the street.

"Do you know that man, sir?" asked Seaman Rogers, in an excited whisper.

"The bandit, Cosetta!" Dave muttered.

"The same, sir."

But Darrin turned and walked on again, for he saw that the recognition had been mutual.

Espying the young ensign, Cosetta reined in sharply before a group of Mexicans, whose glances he directed at Dave Darrin.

"There he goes, the turkey-cock, strutting young officer," cried Cosetta harshly in his own tongue. "Eye the young Gringo upstart well. You must know him again, for he is to be a marked man in the streets of Vera Cruz!"

It was a prediction full of ghastly possibilities for Ensign Dave Darrin!

XIII. "After the Rascal!"

Seaman Rogers led the way briskly to the American consulate.

"The consul is engaged, sir, with the Jefe Politico," explained a clerk at a desk in an outer office. "Will you wait, or have you papers that can be left with me?"

"Thank you; I shall he obliged to wait," Dave decided, "since I was instructed to hand the papers to the consul himself."

He took a chair at a vacant desk, picking up a late issue of a New Orleans daily paper and scanning the front page.

Seaman Rogers strolled to the entrance, watching the passing crowds of Mexicans.

"Is there any very late news from Tampico?" Darrin inquired, presently.

"Nothing later than the news received this morning," the clerk replied.

"The bare details of the dispute there over the insult to the Flag?"

Darrin inquired.

"That is all, sir," the clerk replied.

So Dave turned again to the newspaper. Several things were happening in the home country that interested him.

"It was half an hour before the Jefe Politico, a Mexican official, corresponding somewhat to a mayor in an American city, passed through on his way out.

"You will be able to see the consul, now," suggested the clerk, so Dave rose at once, passing into the inner office, where he was pleasantly greeted.

Dave laid a sealed packet of papers on the desk before the consul.

"If you have time to wait, pardon me while I glance at the enclosures," said the consul.

Ensign Darrin took a seat near a window, while the official went rapidly through the papers submitted to him.

Some were merely communications to go forward to the United States in the consular mailbag.

Still other papers required careful consideration.

"If you will excuse me," said the consul, rising, "I will go into another room to dictate a letter that I wish to send to your captain."

Dave passed through another half hour of waiting.

"It will be some time before the papers are ready," reported the consul, on his return. "In the meantime, Mr. Darrin, I am quite at your service."

"I wonder if you have received any further news about the Tampico incident," Dave smiled, questioningly.

"Nothing further, I fancy, than was sent by wireless to all the American warships in these waters."

"Is that incident going to lead to war?" Darrin asked.

"It is hard to say," replied the consul, musingly. "But the people at home are very much worked up over it."

"They are?" asked Dave, eagerly.

"Indeed, yes! In general, the American press predicts that now nothing is so likely as United States intervention in this distracted country. Some of our American editors even declare boldly that the time has come to bring about the permanent occupation and annexation of Mexico."

"I hope our country won't go that far," Dave exclaimed, with a gesture of disgust. "I should hate to think of having to welcome the Mexicans as fellow citizens of the great republic."

"I don't believe that we need worry about it," smiled the consul.

"It is only the jingo papers that are talking in that vein."

"How does Congress feel about the situation?" Dave asked.

"Why, I am glad to say that Congress appears to be in line for as strong action as the government may wish to take."

"It really looks like war, then."

"It looks as though our troops might land on the Mexican coast by way of reprisal," replied the consul. "That would bring stubborn resistance from the Mexicans, and then, as a result, intervention would surely follow. There may be men with minds bright enough to see the difference between armed intervention and war."

"I'm stupid then," Ensign Dave smiled. "I can't see any difference in the actual results. So you believe, sir, that the people of the United States are practically a unit for taking a strong hand in Mexican affairs?"

"The people of the United States have wanted just that action for at least two years," the consul answered.

"That was the way it looked to me," Dave nodded. "By the way, sir, did you hear anything about an armed encounter between a naval party and Cosetta's bandits last night?"

"Why, yes," cried the consul, "and now I remember that the landing party was sent from your ship. What can you tell me about that?"

Dave Darrin gave a brief account of the doings of the night before, though he did not mention the fact that he, himself, was in command of the landing party of rescuers.

"It was a plucky bit of work," commented the consul.

"Will that fight with Cosetta inflame the Mexican mind?" Dave asked.

"It is likely to have something of that effect upon the Mexicans," the consul replied, "though Mexico can hardly make any legal objection to the affair, for Cosetta is a notorious bandit, and bandits have no rights. The Mexican government appears to have been unable to rescue the prisoners, so the United States forces had an undoubted right to do so. Do you know anything about this fellow, Cosetta, Mr. Darrin?"

"I never heard of him before yesterday," Dave confessed.

"He is a troublesome fellow, and rather dangerous. More than once he has extorted large sums of ransom money for prisoners.

He has a large following, even here in Vera Cruz, where he maintains his little force of spies and assassins. Whenever a wealthy Mexican hereabouts has had an enemy that he wanted 'removed,' he has always been able to accomplish his wish with the aid of this same fellow, Cosetta."

"Cosetta is in town to-day," Dave remarked.

"Are you sure of that?"

"I saw him here," Darrin replied, quietly.

"Then you must have been the officer in command of last night's landing party."

"I was." replied Dave Darrin, shortly.

"Then, Mr. Darrin," said the Consul, earnestly, "I am going to give you a bit of advice that I hope you won't disregard. Cosetta may feel deep resentment against you, for you thwarted his plans.

Probably, too, you were the cause of laying several of his men low last night. Cosetta won't forget or forgive you. Whenever you are in time streets of Vera Cruz I would advise you to keep your eyes wide open. Cosetta might detail a couple of his worthless desperadoes to bury their knives in your back. This bandit has done such things before, nor is it at all easy to punish him, for the scoundrel has many surprisingly loyal friends in Vera Cruz. In a more strictly-governed country he would be arrested in the city streets as soon as pointed out, but in Mexico the bandit is likely to be a popular hero, and certainly Cosetta is that in Vera Cruz. If he were wanted here for a crime, there are hundreds of citizens who would gladly hide him in their homes.

On any day in the week Cosetta could easily recruit a hundred men for his band. Perhaps he is now in town on that errand."

"I have an idea that the fellow is dangerous," Darrin nodded.

"Still, here in Vera Cruz, with scores of American sailors usually in sight on the streets, it seems to me hardly likely that Cosetta would instruct his men to attack me. The sailors would interfere.

Certainly they would lay hold of the assassin."

"Ah, but the sailors do not come ashore armed," the consul warned his visitor. "On the other hand, most of the Mexicans go about to-day with arms concealed about them. A fight between a sailor and a Mexican might, just now, be enough to start a riot."

Dave listened attentively. He was not in the least alarmed by the possibility of an attack being made upon his person, but he had the natural distaste of a naval officer for being the innocent cause of strained relations between his country and another nation.

When the stenographer brought in the papers that had been dictated to him, the consul looked them through, then signed them.

"Here is a packet of communications for your captain," said the consul, handing a bulky envelope to Darrin. "One of the communications enclosed, Mr. Darrin, is of so important a nature that you will have an added reason for keeping your weather eye open against any form of trouble that Senor Cosetta might start for you in the streets."

"At any time and in any place," Dave smiled, earnestly, "I would take the best possible care of official papers entrusted to me."

"I am aware of that, Mr. Darrin," replied the consul smiling.

"But the paper in question is one that it would greatly embarrass the United States to have fall into improper hands. That is my only excuse for having cautioned you so particularly."

Seaman Rogers was waiting at the door. He saluted when Ensign Darrin appeared, then fell in a few paces behind his officer.

A short distance away a carriage stood before the door of a private banker. A woman of perhaps thirty came out through the doorway, carrying a small handbag.

Seeming almost to rise from the ground, so suddenly did he appear, a ragged Mexican bumped violently against the woman.

There was a scream, and in a twinkling the ragged Mexican was in full flight, carrying the handbag as he ran.

"After that rascal, Rogers!" cried Dave Darrin, aghast at the boldness of this daylight robbery.

"Aye, aye, sir, and with a hearty good will!" called back Rogers, as both sailors started in full chase.

XIV. A "Find" of a Bad Kind

In the nature of timings it could not be a long chase, for Ensign Dave Darrin was a swift runner, of many years' training.

Rogers, slim and lithe, was also an excellent runner.

Less than a block's distance, and Darrin had gripped the fleeing Mexican by the collar.

His left hand reached for the bag, and in a moment Dave had it in his custody. Not a man of the Vera Cruz police force was in sight, to whom to turn the wretch over, so Darrin flung the fellow from him.

That the handbag had not been opened Darrin was sure, for he had kept his eye upon it through the chase.

Going to the ground in a heap, the Mexican thief was upon his feet instantly. A knife glittered in his right hand as he rushed at the young ensign.

But Seaman Rogers was too quick for the fellow. One of his feet shot up, the kick landing on the Mexican's wrist. That kick broke the fellow's wrist and sent the knife spinning through the air.

"We must go back to the woman from whom this was taken," Dave declared, and he and Rogers faced about, walking briskly back to the carriage.

The woman was completely unnerved, and trembling with fright.

Her coachman stood beside her, and already a crowd of a dozen curious natives had gathered.

"Is this your property, madam?" Dave Darrin inquired, holding up the bag.

"Yes, it is!" she cried, in excellent English. "Oh, thank you!

Thank you!"

Hastily she opened the bag, disclosing a thick roll of bills.

"It is all I have in the world," she murmured, her eyes now filling with tears.

"It looks to me like a whole lot and then plenty more," uttered Seaman Rogers under his breath. "Whee! There must be a fortune there."

"I am afraid you will not be safe in the streets of Vera Cruz with so much money in your possession," Dave assured her gravely.

"I am going only as far as the docks," the woman answered. "If I may have escort that far——"

"You shall," Dave offered.

Another score of natives had hastened to the spot, and were looking on curiously with sullen, lowering faces. Darrin began to fear that the plot to rob this woman of her money was a well planned one, with many thieves interested in it.

Through the crack of a slightly opened doorway the face of Cosetta, the bandit, appeared, his evil eyes glittering strangely.

Dave looked up swiftly, his eyes turned straight on those of the bandit.

"It's a plot, sure enough!" gasped the young ensign to himself.

"We shall be attacked, and the crowd is too big for us to handle"

He was not afraid for himself, and he knew well that Seaman Rogers was "aching" for a chance to turn his hard fists loose on this rascally lot of Mexicans. But a rush would probably secure the bag of money for the bandits, and the woman herself might be roughly handled, It was a ticklish situation.

"You are from an American warship, are you not?" inquired the woman.

"From the Long Island, madam," the young officer informed her.

"I am an American citizen, too," she claimed.

"No matter to what nationality you belonged, we would protect you to the best of our ability," Darrin added, raising his cap.

Whump! whump! whump! whump! It was the sound of steadily marching feet. Then around the corner came a boatswain's mate and eight keep even a crowd of rascals in order men from one of the American warships. It was a shore duty party returning to a ship!

"Boatswain's mate!" Dave shouted. "Here!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

On the double quick came the shore duty party. Dave Darrin found himself surrounded by blue jackets.

"This lady is very nervous, and with good reason," Dave explained to the boatswain's mate. "She just had a handbag of money snatched from her by a thief. The bag has been returned, and now she wishes our escort to the dock, that she may not be attacked again. She is on her way to board a ship that will take her back to the United States. Boatswain's mate, I wish you would ride in the carriage at her side, while the rest of us walk on the sidewalk close to the carriage."

"Aye, aye, sir!" responded the mate, saluting, then turning and lifting his cap gracefully to the woman. He helped her into the carriage, then took his seat beside her.

Dave and the nine seamen remained on the sidewalk, but kept close to the carriage as the horses moved along at a walk. Darrin had no further fear that another attempt would be made to seize the money by force. Eleven men from the American Navy are guard enough to keep even a crowd of rascals in order.

"Since Cosetta was looking on from the doorway, that must have been one of his jobs, engineered by him, and carried out by his own men," Dave told himself, swiftly. "Most of the men in the crowd must have been his own men, too, posted to take the money again, under pretense that a fight with sailors had started.

So I've been the means of blocking another profitable enterprise for that fellow, Cosetta. By and by the scoundrel will feel a deep liking for me!"

The first thief, he whose wrist Seaman Rogers had broken, had promptly vanished. Unmolested, the blue-jackets escorted the carriage out on to a dock next to the one at which the launch from the "Long Island" lay.

Dave himself assisted the woman to alight from her carriage on the dock, at the end of which lay an American steamship.

After she had thanked the young officer earnestly, Darrin, cap in hand, remarked:

"I am afraid I shall have to trouble you, madam, for your name.

I shall have to turn in a report on this occurrence on my return to my ship."

"I am Mrs. Alice Black," replied the woman. "My home is in Elberon, Ohio, and I shall probably go there soon after I reach New York.

This steamship does not sail immediately, but my money will be safe on board with the purser."

Darrin gave his own name.

"You have done me the greatest service possible, Mr. Darrin, for you have saved me from utter poverty."

"Then I am very glad indeed," Dave assured her, and promptly took his leave.

Before going off the dock Darrin secured the name of the boatswain's mate, also, for inclusion in his report.

Then, with Rogers, he returned to the launch and was speedily back on his own ship.

The packet of papers entrusted to him by the consul were at once handed over to Captain Gales.

The launch was left fast to a swinging boom, and soon after was employed to take ashore Lieutenant Cantor, who had received shore leave for a few hours.

For the first time in several days, Dave and Dan had time to chat together that afternoon. That was after Darrin had turned in a brief report on the assistance rendered an American woman ashore.

"Cantor seems to have let up on you, apart from being as grouchy as he knows how to be," Danny Grin observed.

"That is because there is nothing he can really do to me," Dave answered, with a smile.

"Just the same," urged Dan, "I would advise you at all times to keep your weather eye turned toward that chap."

"He really isn't worth the trouble," Dave yawned, behind his hand.

"And, fortunately, I shall not always be compelled to serve under him. Officers are frequently transferred, you know."

"If Cantor found the chance, you might last only long enough to be transferred back to civil life," Dan warned him. "Dave, I wish you would really be more on your guard against the only enemy, so far as I know, that you have."

"I'm not interested in Cantor," retorted Dave. "It would do me a heap more good to know what reply General Huerta will finally make to the American demand for satisfaction over the Tampico incident."

"Huerta won't give in," Dan predicted. "If he did, he would he killed by his own Mexican rabble."

"If Huerta resists, then he'll have to fight," Dave exclaimed, warmly.

"And if he fights most of the Mexicans will probably stand by him," Dalzell contended. His only hope of saving his own skin lies in provoking Uncle Sam into sending a spanking expedition.

At the worst, Huerta, if badly beaten by our troops, can surrender to our commander, and then he'll have a chance to get out of Mexico alive. If Huerta gave in to us, he would have all the Mexican people against him, and he'd only fall into the hands of the rebels, who would take huge delight in killing him offhand. It's a queer condition, isn't it, when Huerta's only hope of coming out alive hangs on his making war against a power like the United States."

"Open for callers?" inquired Lieutenant Trent's voice, outside Dan's door.

"Come in, by all means," called Ensign Dalzell.

Lieutenant Trent entered, looking as though he were well satisfied with himself on this warm April day in the tropics.

"You look unusually jovial," Dan remarked.

"And why shouldn't I?" Trent asked. "For years the Navy has been working out every imaginable problem of attack and defense. Now, we shall have a chance to apply some of our knowledge."

"In fighting the Mexican Navy?" laughed Dave.

"Hardly that," grinned the older officer. "But at least we shall have landing-party practice, and in the face of real bullets."

"If Huerta doesn't back down," Dave suggested.

"He won't," Danny Grin insisted. "He can't—doesn't dare."

"Do you realize what two of our greatest problems are to-day?" asked Lieutenant Trent.

"Attack on battleships by submarines and airships?" Dave inquired, quietly.

"Yes," Trent nodded.

"Huerta hasn't any submarines," Dan offered.

"We haven't heard of any," Trent replied, "Yet how can we be sure that he hasn't any submarine craft?"

"He has an airship or two, though, I believe," Dave went on.

"He is believed to have two in the hands of the Mexican Federal Army," Lieutenant Trent continued. "I have just heard that, if we send a landing party ashore on a hostile errand, on each warship an officer and a squad of men will be stationed by a searchlight all through the dark hours. That searchlight will keep the skies lighted in the effort to discover an airship."

"And we ought to be able to bring it down with a six-pounder shell,"

Danny Grin declared, promptly.

"There is a limit to the range of a six-pounder, or any other gun, especially when firing at high elevation," Trent retorted.

"An airship can reach a height above the range of any gun that can be trained on the sky. For instance, we can't fire a shell that will go three miles up into the air, yet that is a very ordinary height at which to run a biplane. Have you heard that, a year or more ago, an English aviator flew over warships at a height greater than the gunners below could possibly have reached? And did you know that the aviator succeeded in dropping oranges down the funnels of English warships? Suppose those oranges had been bombs?"

"The warship would have been sunk," Darrin answered.

"Huerta's bird men might be able to give us a surprise like that,"

Trent suggested. "That may prove to be one of the new problems that we shall have to work out."

"Oh, I've worked that out already," yawned Danny Grin. "All we have to do is to equip our funnels with heavy iron caps that will not interfere with the draft of the furnaces, but will keep any oranges—bombs, I mean—from dropping down the funnels."

"All right then," added Lieutenant Trent. "We will consider Dalzell has solved the problem of keeping bombs out of our funnels. What is Dalzell going to do about contact bombs that might be dropped on deck or superstructure of a battleship?"

"All I can see for that," grinned Dan, "is to call loudly for the police."

"One biplane might succeed in sinking all the warships gathered at Vera Cruz," Trent continued.

"Was that the thought that made you look so happy when you came in here?" Dan asked, reproachfully. "The thought that you could scare two poor little ensigns so badly that they wouldn't be able to sleep to-night?"

"That was far from my plan," laughed Trent. "What I am really happy about is that, the way affairs are shaping, we shall soon be studying real war problems instead of theoretical ones."

"The question of uniform is bothering me more," Dave responded.

"Do you realize, Trent, that we have only blue uniforms and white ones on board? If we land, to capture Vera Cruz, are our men to be tortured in heavy, hot, blue uniforms here in the tropics? Or are we to wear these white clothes and make ourselves the most perfect marks for the enemy's sharpshooters?"

"You should have more confidence in the men forward," half jeered the lieutenant. "Our jackies are taking care of that problem already. They are soaking nails and scrap iron in water, and dyeing their white uniforms yellow with iron rust."

"Say, that is an idea!" exclaimed Dan, sitting bolt upright.

"I'm going to do that very thing to-night. I have one white uniform that isn't in very good shape."

"I suppose you fellows have heard the word?" inquired Lieutenant Holton, looking in.

"Not war?" asked Trent.

"No," uttered Holton, disgustedly. "Worse than that. Shore leave has been stopped for officers and men alike. And I was counting on a pleasant evening ashore to-night!"

"It won't bother me any," Dave announced. "I'd rather stay on board and sleep against the stirring times, when we won't be able to get sleep enough."

"What's the idea, anyway, in stopping shore leave?" asked Trent.

"Is the admiral afraid that we'll start a row on shore?"

"I don't know," sighed Lieutenant Holton. "I only wish that I had got ashore before the order was handed out."

At that very moment Lieutenant Cantor, who had returned to ship, and had just heard the order, was standing before Captain Gales in the latter's office.

"But, sir," stammered the young officer, "It is absolutely necessary that I go ashore again to-morrow. It is vital to me, sir."

"I am sorry, Cantor," said Captain Gales, "but the admiral's orders leave me no discretion in the matter."

Captain Gales, as he spoke, turned his back in order to reach for a report book behind hum.

Ten minutes later Commander Bainbridge was summoned in hot haste to the Captain's office.

"Bainbridge," announced Captain Gales, his face stern and set, "at three o'clock a bulky envelope lay on my desk. That envelope contained the full plan of the Navy landing in Vera Cruz, in case such landing becomes necessary. All that we are to accomplish, and even the duties of the different officers and detachments from this fleet were stated in that letter. Not later than within the last half-hour that envelope has disappeared!"

Instantly Commander Bainbridge's face became grave indeed.

"Have you been out of the room, sir?" asked Bainbridge.

"Only once, and then, so the marine orderly at the door informs me, no one entered here."

"This is serious!" cried the executive officer."

"Serious?" repeated Captain Gales in a harsh tone. "I should say it was."

"Let us search the room thoroughly, sir," begged the executive officer.

Though no search could have been more thorough, the missing envelope was not found.

"Summon the officers—all of them—to meet me in the ward-room in five minutes!" rasped Captain Gales.

And there every officer of the "Long Island" reported immediately.

After the doors had been closed Captain Gales announced the loss.

Blank faces confronted him on all sides.

"Has any officer any information to offer that can throw the least light on thus matter?" demanded the Old Man, in a husky voice.

There was silence, broken at last by Lieutenant Cantor asking:

"May I make a suggestion, sir?"

"Certainly."

"How many officers, sir, visited your office after the time you are certain of having seen the missing envelope on your desk?"

"Five," replied Captain Gales. "Lieutenant-Commander Denton, Lieutenant-Commander Hansen, Lieutenant Holton, Lieutenant Trent and yourself."

"Were there any enlisted men in your office, sir?"

"None since before the letter came aboard," replied Captain Gales.

"Then I would beg to suggest, sir," Lieutenant Cantor continued,

"that each of the five officers you have named, myself included, request that their quarters be thoroughly searched. If the missing envelope is not found in their quarters, then I would suggest that the quarters of every other officer on board be searched."

To this there was a low murmur of approval. The executive officer was instructed to take the chaplain, the surgeon and two other officers beside himself, these five to form the searching committee.

In the meantime, the officers were to remain in the ward-room or on the quarterdeck.

Dave, Dan and Trent seated themselves at the mess table. Time dragged by. At last the searching committee, looking grave indeed, returned.

"Is this the envelope, sir?" asked Commander Bainbridge, holding it out.

"It is," replied Captain Gales, scanning it. "But the envelope has now no contents."

"We found only the envelope, sir," replied Commander Bainbridge, while his four helpers looked uncomfortable. "We found the envelope tucked in a berth, under the mattress, in the quarters of an officer of this ship."

"And who was the officer in whose quarters you found it?" demanded Captain Gales.

"Ensign Darrin, sir!" replied the executive officer.

XV. Ready For Vera Cruz

"Ensign Darrin"—and the Old Man's voice was more impressive than any officer present remembered ever to have heard it before—"what do you know of this matter?"

Though the shock had struck him like an actual blow, Dave Darrin steadied both himself and his voice as he replied:

"I know nothing whatever about it, sir, that is not common knowledge to everyone in this room."

"Then you did not take this envelope from my room?" demanded Captain Gales.

"I did not, sir."

"And you did not receive it from any one else?"

"I did not, sir."

"You have no knowledge of how this envelope came to be in your quarters?"

"I have not the least knowledge in the world, sir."

Captain Gales debated the matter in his own distressed mind.

Dave Darrin stood there, white faced and dignified, his bearing perfect.

He looked, every inch a true-hearted young American naval officer.

Yet he was resting under a terrible suspicion.

"You may go, gentlemen," announced the captain. "I ask you to see to it that no word of this matter leaks out among the men forward. Ensign Darrin, you will report to me at my office just as soon as you think I have had time to reach there before you."

Several of the officers walked hastily away. Others hung aloof, shaking their heads. Lieutenant Trent led about a dozen men who pressed around Dave Darrin, offering him their hands.

"It would take the strongest kind of proof to make me believe anything wrong in you, Darrin," declared Trent.

Others in the little group offered similar words of faith and cheer. But Dave broke away from them after expressing his gratitude.

His head very erect and his shoulders squared, the young ensign walked to the captain's office.

"Darrin," began the Old Man, "if you are as innocent as I want to believe you to be in this matter, then do all in your power to help me clear your name."

"Very good, sir," Dave responded. "In the first place, sir, the important letter was in its envelope when I turned over to you the package entrusted to me by the consul."

"It was," nodded Captain Gales.

"And I have not since been in your office, sir. You know that of your own knowledge, and from what the marine orderly has been able to inform you, sir?"

"I am satisfied that you were not in thus office after you delivered the packet," replied the Old Man.

"Then I could not have taken it from your desk, sir."

"I am well satisfied of that," assented Captain Gales. "The only untoward circumstance is that the envelope was found in your quarters."

"Then, sir," Dave argued, "it is established that I could not have been the principal in the theft that was committed in your office this afternoon. That being so, the only suspicion possibly remaining against me is that I may have been an accomplice."

"No lawyer could have put that more clearly," replied Captain Gales.

"Now, sir," Dave continued, bravely, "if the important letter of instructions, or even if only the envelope had been handed me, is it likely, sir, that I would have hidden it under my mattress, when I might as readily have burned it or dropped it overboard?"

"Any clear-headed man, I admit," said the Captain, "would have destroyed the useless envelope sooner than have it found in his possession."

"The only possible use to which the otherwise useless envelope could have been put, sir, was to incriminate me. Would I have saved the envelope and by so doing taken a chance that could only ruin me? Of what service could the letter be to me, sir? I could not take it ashore, sir, for instance, to dispose of it to the Mexican officials, who probably would pay handsomely to get hold of the American naval plans. I have not asked for shore leave, sir. May I ask, sir, how many officers received shore leave, and used it, after I returned to the ship?"

"Only one, Darrin; that was Lieutenant Cantor."

Dave bit his lips; he had not intended to try to direct suspicion from himself to any other officer.

"So it might seem possible," mused Captain Gales, aloud, "that Lieutenant Cantor might have obtained the letter and turned over the envelope to you to destroy, Darrin. I am stating, mind you, only a possibility in the way of suspicion."

"Lieutenant Cantor and I are not on friendly terms," Dave answered, quickly. Then once more he bit his lip.

But the Old Man regarded him keenly, asking: "What is wrong between Cantor and yourself?"

"I spoke too quickly, sir," Dave confessed, reddening slightly.

"I have no complaint to make against Lieutenant Cantor. The one statement I feel at liberty to make is that an antipathy exists between Lieutenant Cantor and I. I would suggest, further, that Lieutenant Cantor, even had he stolen the letter, could have taken it only after his return on board. So that he had no opportunity to carry it ashore, had he been scoundrel enough to wish to do so."

Captain Gales leaned back, blankly studying the bulk-head before him. Disturbing thoughts were now running in the Old Man's mind.

"Cantor was in this room," mused Captain Gales, "and it was some time afterwards that I missed the envelope. Then, too, Cantor fairly begged for more shore leave, and told me that it was vital to him to be allowed further shore leave. Still, again, in the ward-room it was Cantor who suggested that the officers' quarters be searched. Can it be that Cantor is the scoundrel? I hate to believe it. But then I hate equally to believe that Darrin could have done such a treasonable thing as to steal a copy of our landing instructions, prepared by the admiral and sent aboard through the consular office, so that the Mexicans ashore would not observe a great deal of communication between our ships."

After some moments of thought Captain Gales announced:

"Darrin, this thing is one of the most complex puzzles I have ever been called upon to solve. Your conduct and answers have been straightforward, and I am unable to believe that you had any hand in the stealing or handling of that accursed envelope."

"Thank you, sir!" Dave Darrin cried, in genuine gratitude.

"At dinner in the ward-room to-night I shall have Commander Bainbridge make announcement before all your brother officers of what I have just said," continued Captain Gales. "You may go now."

Yet, as he spoke, the captain rose and held out his hand. Dave grasped it, then saluted and turned away.

His bearing, as he went to Dalzell's quarters, was as proud as ever, though in his mind Dave Darrin knew well enough that he was still under a cloud of suspicion that would never be removed entirely from his good name unless the real culprit should be found and exposed.

"Moreover," Dave told himself, bitterly, "Cantor, if he is the one who has done this contemptible thing, may yet devise a way clever enough to convict me, or at least to condemn me in the service."

At dinner, before the first course was served, Commander Bainbridge ordered the ward-room doors closed after the attendants had passed outside. Then he stated that Captain Gales wished it understood that the finding of the telltale envelope under Ensign Darrin's mattress was the only circumstance against that officer, and that, in the captain's opinion, it was wholly likely that some one else had placed the envelope there with the intention of arousing suspicion against the officer named. It was further stated that, in time, Captain Gales hopes to reach all the facts in the mystery. The Captain wished it understood, stated the executive officer, that it would have been so stupid on Ensign Darrin's part to have hidden the envelope where it was found that there was no good reason for believing that Ensign Darrin was guilty of anything worse than having an enemy.

While this statement was being made Dave sat with his gaze riveted to the face of Lieutenant Cantor. The officer looked stolid, but his stolidity had the appearance of being assumed.

There was instant applause from some of the officers. This, being heard by sailors on duty outside, started the rumor that the officers had heard that an immediate landing was to be made in Vera Cruz or at Tampico. Thus, the jackies forward had an exciting evening talking the prospects over.

So Dave was not placed under charges, and the majority of his brother officers on the "Long Island" regarded the suspicion against him as being absurd. Yet Darrin knew that suspicion existed in some minds, and felt wretched in consequence.

Meantime, the news reached the fleet, as it reached newspaper readers at home, that General Huerta was becoming daily more stubborn.

Then came the news that the Mexican dictator's refusal had been made final and emphatic.

"The house has passed a resolution justifying the President in employing the military and naval forces of the United States in whatever way he deems best in exacting satisfaction for the insult to the Flag at Tampico," spread through the ship on the evening of Monday, the 20th of April.

From then on no one in the American fleet doubted that war with Mexico was soon to begin. It was all right, the "Long Island's" officers declared, to talk about a mere peaceful landing, but no doubt existed that the landing of American sailors and marines would mean the firing of the first shots by resisting Mexicans which Would provoke war.

On the morning of the 21st of April the officers assembled in the ward-room as usual.

"Gentlemen," said Commander Bainbridge, calmly, in a moment when the Filipino mess servants were absent, "the present orders are that the American naval forces land and occupy Vera Cruz this forenoon. Orders for the details have been made and will be announced immediately after breakfast. That is all that I have to say at present."

That "all" was certainly enough. The blow for the honor of the Stars and Stripes was to be struck this forenoon. Instantly every face was aglow. Each hoped to be in the detail sent ashore.

Then one young officer was heard to remark, in an undertone:

"I'll wager that all I get is a detail to commissary duty, making up the rations to be sent ashore."

Commander Bainbridge heard and smiled, but made no reply.

Soon after breakfast the work cut out for each officer was announced.

Dave Darrin and Dan Dalzell were both gleeful when informed that they were to go ashore in the same detachment of blue-jackets.

Lieutenant Trent was to command them.

"David, little giant," murmured Danny Grin, exultantly, "we appear to be under the right and left wings of that good men known as Fortune."

"I'm ready for duty wherever I'm put," Dave answered, seriously.

"None the less, I'm delighted that I'm ordered ashore."

Lieutenant Cantor was greatly disappointed when he found that he was to remain aboard ship. Captain Gales had his own reasons for keeping that young officer away from shore.

Under cover on the "Long Island" all was bustle, yet without a trace of confusion. Officers and men had been so thoroughly trained in their duties that now they performed them with clock-like regularity.

It was a busy forenoon, yet no one observing the American fleet from the shore would have discovered any signs of unusual activity.

From the Mexican custom house, from the post-office, the cable station, and from the grim old prison-fortress, San Juan de Ulloa, the Mexican flag flew as usual.

In the streets of Vera Cruz natives and foreigners moved about as usual. Not even the Americans in Vera Cruz, except the consul, knew that this was the morning destined to become a famous date in American history.

At about eleven o'clock boats began to be launched alongside the American men-of-war. Men piled quickly over the sides. In number one launch Lieutenant Trent, Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell and forty seaman, with rifles and two machine guns, put away.

Lieutenant-Commander Denton and Lieutenant Timson of the Marine Corps put off in launches numbers two and three with sixty marines and forty bluejackets. From the other warships detachments put off at the same time.

One cutter, occupied by fourteen marines, put off from one of the men-of-war and was rowed ashore at high speed. These men quickly landed at No.1 Dock.

"There they land—they're unfurling the American Flag!" breathed Dave Darrin in his chum's ear.

Another cutter landed at another dock; then a launch rushed in alongside. It came the turn of the first launch from the "Long Island" to move in to berth at No.1 Dock, and Trent piled his party ashore, the launch immediately afterward being backed out and turned back to the "Long Island."

Within fifteen minutes a thousand marines and sailors had been landed.

"But where is the Mexican resistance?" murmured Danny Grin, impatiently.

"Where is the excuse that was to be furnished us for fighting?"

That "excuse" was to come soon enough!

XVI. In the Thick of the Sniping

Upon the landing of the first men, the Mexican custom house had been seized.

The seizure of the post-office and the cable station quickly followed.

Lieutenant Trent did not halt on the dock. Forming his men even while moving forward, Trent kept his command moving fast.

Dave was near the head of the little column, on the right flank.

Dan was near the rear.

For some distance Trent marched his men, hundreds of curious Mexicans parting to make way for the advance of the little detachment.

Finally Trent halted his men not far from the gray walls of the Castle of San Juan de Ulloa.

"I wonder if our job is to take that fortress?" murmured Dalzell, dryly.

"If that's our job," smiled Darrin, "we'll have fighting enough to suit even your hot young blood. But I don't believe we're cut out to take the castle. Look at the transport 'Prairie.'

Her guns are but five hundred yards away, and trained on the fort.

If anyone in San Juan opens on us the 'Prairie' will be able to blow the old fort clean off the map."

"What can we be waiting for?" asked Dan, fidgeting.

"I've an idea that we shall find out soon enough," Dave replied.

Dalzell glanced appealingly at Lieutenant Trent, who stepped over to say:

"I see you both want to know what we're to do. My orders are only general, and rather vague. Our work won't be cut out for us until the Mexican garrison starts something."

"But will the Mexicans start anything?" Danny wanted to know.

"So far they seem as patient as camels about fighting."

Another landing party, from the "Florida," moved up to position about a block away from Trent's small command.

"I don't mind fighting," sighed Dan, ten minutes later, "but waiting gets on my nerves."

All the time small detachments of sailors and marines were moving gradually through the lower part of Vera Cruz, moving from one point to another, and always the leading detachments went further from the water front.

At last Trent, receiving his signal from a distance, marched his men up the street, away from the fortress of San Juan de Ulloa.

Only a quarter of a mile did they march, then halted. Fully three hundred Mexicans followed them, and stood looking on curiously.

"I wonder if any one ashore knows the answer to the riddle of what we're doing," sighed Danny Grin.

"We're waiting orders, like real fighting men," Dave answered, with a smile.

"But there isn't going to be any fighting!"

"Where did you get that information?" Dave asked.

Noon came; no fighting had been started. By this time nearly every officer and man ashore believed that the Mexican general at Vera Cruz had decided not to offer resistance. If so, he had undoubtedly received his instructions from Mexico City.

More minutes dragged by. At about fifteen minutes past noon, shots rang out ahead.

"The engagement is starting," Dan exclaimed eagerly to his chum.

"The shots are so few in number, and come so irregularly, that probably only a few Mexican hotheads are shooting," Dave hinted, quietly. "Troops, going into action, don't fire in that fashion."

"I wonder of any of our men are firing back."

"All I know," smiled Darrin, "is that we are not doing any shooting."

Pss-seu! sang a stray bullet over their heads. Only that brief hiss as the deadly leaden messenger sang past.

Pss-chug! That bullet caught Dalzell's uniform cap, carrying it from his head to a distance some forty feet rearward.

"Whew! That gives some idea of the spitefulness of a bullet, doesn't it?" muttered Danny Grin, as a seaman ran for the ensign's cap and returned with it.

"It must be that I didn't get iron-rust enough on this white uniform," commented Dalzell, coolly, gazing down at the once white uniform that he had yellowed by a free application of iron rust. "My clothing must still be white enough to attract the attention of a sharpshooter so distant that I don't know where he is."

Still Trent held his command in waiting, for no orders had come to move it forward.

"The barracks are over there," said Dave, pointing. "So far as I have been able to judge, none of the bullets come from that direction."

Still the desultory firing continued. The occasional shots that rang out showed, however, that the Americans were not firing in force.

"There they go!" called Lieutenant Trent, drawing attention to the nearest barracks. From the parade ground in front, small detachments of Mexicans could be seen running toward different parts of the town.

"Are you going to fire on them?" asked Darrin.

"Not unless the Mexicans fire on us, or I receive orders to fire," the lieutenant answered. "I don't want to do anything to disarrange the admiral's plans for the day, and at present I know no more than you do of what is expected of us."

Suddenly the air became alive with the hiss of bullets.

"I see the rascals," cried Dave pointing upward. "They're on the top of that building ahead."

Trent saw the sharpshooters, too. Perhaps twenty Mexican infantrymen occupied the roof of a building a few hundred yards ahead. Some were lying flat, showing only their heads at the edge of the roof.

Others were kneeling, but all were firing industriously.

"Forward, a few steps at a time," ordered the lieutenant. "Don't waste any shots, men, but pot any sharpshooter you can get on that roof, or any men who show themselves on other roofs as we advance."

"This work is a lot better than getting into boats and trying to take Castle San Juan," muttered Dalzell, as he drew his sword.

All three of the officers now had their blades in their hands, for the swords would be useful if they were obliged to fight at close quarters.

Crack! crack! crack! rang out the rifles of Trent's detachment.

But every shot told. Whenever any one of the three officers saw a man firing too rapidly that seaman was cautioned against wasting cartridges.

One of Trent's men was already wounded in the left hand, though he still persisted in firing.

At the first street crossing Trent shouted:

"Half of you men go down the street on that side, the rest of you over here. Ensign Dalzell, take command over there. Ensign Darrin, you will command here."

The street was swiftly emptied of blue-jackets. Hidden from the fire of the sharpshooters ahead, the sailors were out of immediate danger. But both Dan and Dave stationed a couple of good shots at either corner, in the shelter of the buildings and took pot shots at the snipers ahead.

"Darrin, pick out two of your best men, and send them to lie down in the middle of the street, facing that roof-top," Trent ordered, then shouted the order across the open street to Dalzell.

Thus, with four jackies lying flat in the middle of the street, and offering no very good targets to the roof snipers, and with two men behind each protecting corner, the Mexicans on the roof were subjected to the sharpshooting fire of the eight best shots in Trent's command.

"Darley, you stand here on the sidewalk, and watch the roof-top across the street," Dave ordered. "Hemingway, you get over on the other side and keep your eyes on the roof on this side of the street. If you see any one on a rooftop, let him have it as fast as you can fire."

Dan Dalzell, seeing that manoeuvre from across the street, stationed two roof-watchers similarly on his side.

"We'll stick to this sharpshooting stunt," Lieutenant Trent called in Darrin's ear, over the crackling of the rifles, "until we get a few of the Mexicans ahead. Then we'll rush their position and try to drive them from it. The only way——"

That was as far as Lieutenant Trent got, for Dave, making a sudden leap at his superior, seized him by the collar, jerking him backward a few feet and landing him on his back.

"What the——" sputtered Lieutenant Trent. That was as far as he got, for there was a crash, the sidewalk shook, and then Darrin quickly pulled his superior to his feet.

The report of Hemingway's rifle was not heard, but a tiny cloud of thin vapor curled from the muzzle of his uplifted weapon.

"I think I got one of the pair, sir!" called the sailor, gleefully.

"He threw up his hands and pitched backward out of sight."

Lieutenant Trent looked at the sidewalk astounded, for, where he had stood hay the broken pieces of a cookstove that had been hurled from the roof two stories above.

"That mass of iron fell right where I was standing," muttered Trent.

"Darrin, I wondered why on earth you should jerk me back and lay me out in that unceremonious fashion. If you hadn't done it the cookstove would have crushed my bones to powder."

"It shows the temper of the kind of people we're fighting," muttered Darrin, compressing his lips tightly. "We'll soon have the whole city full trying to wipe us out!"

"We may as well rush that building ahead," muttered the lieutenant.

"I'd rather have my men killed in open fighting than demolished by all the heavy hardware on these two blocks."

Raising his voice, Trent ordered:

"Cease firing! Load magazines and hold your fire. We're going to charge!"

From the sailormen a half-suppressed cheer arose. Hand-to-hand fighting was much more to their liking than tedious sharpshooting.

"Keep close to the building on either side of the street!" Lieutenant Trent ordered. "No man is to run in the middle of the road and make an unnecessary target of himself. Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell will run behind their men, to see that no man exposes himself uselessly."

"Fall in! Ready to charge. In single file—charge!"

Heading the line on Darrin's side of the street, Trent dashed around the corner, leading his sailormen at a run.

Dalzell's men rushed into the fray at the same moment, Dave amid Dan, as ordered, bringing up the rear of the two files.

On the instant that the two lines of charging, cheering sailormen came into sight, the Mexicans on the roof-top redoubled their fire. It is difficult, however, to fire with accuracy at men who are running close to the buildings. Either the bullet falls short, or else goes wide of its mark and hits a wall behind the line. So Lieutenant Trent's men dashed down the street for a short distance, and pausing in the shelter of a building cheered jubilantly.

Now the Mexican soldiers above no longer had the advantage. Whenever one of their number showed his head over the edge of the roof he became a handy target for the jackies below.

Heavy shutters covered the windows on the ground floor of the building. The heavy wooden door was tightly locked.

"Ensign Darrin," sounded Trent's voice, "take enough men and batter that door down."

It took a combined rush to effect that. Several times Dave led his seamen against that barrier. Under repeated assaults it gave way.

"Through the house and to the roof!" shouted Trent. "We'll wind up the snipers!"

What a yell went up from two score of throats as the sailormen piled after their officers and thronged the stairs!

It was a free-for-all race to the top of the second flight of stairs. Over the skylight opening lay a wooden covering tightly secured in place.

"Come on, my hearties! Smash it!" yelled Trent, heaving his own broad shoulders against the obstruction.

After the skylight cover was smashed the Mexican soldiers would once more have the advantage. Only a man at a time could reach the roof. It ought not to be difficult for the defenders to pick off a Navy man at a time as the Americans sprang up.

At last the covering gave way.

"Pile up, all hands, as rapidly as you can come!" yelled Lieutenant Trent. "Officers first!"

"Officers first!" echoed Dave and Dan in a breath, all the military longing in their hearts leaping to the surface.

Then up they went, into the jaws of massacre!

XVII. Mexicans Become Suddenly Meek

Trent leaped to the roof. With his left arm he warded off a blow aimed at his head with the butt of a rifle.

Then his sword flashed, its point going clean through the body of the Mexican soldier who barred his way.

"Death to the Gringos! Death to the Gringos!" yelled the Mexicans.

But Trent drove back two men with his flashing sword. After him Dave heaped to the roof, his revolver barking fast and true.

Danny Grin followed, and he darted around to the other side of the skylight, turning loose his revolver.

The fire was returned briskly by the enemy, all of whom wore the uniform of the Mexican regular infantry.

In the footsteps of the officers came, swiftly, four stalwart young sailormen, and now the American force had a footing on the roof.

At first none of the Mexicans thought of asking for quarter.

One of the infantrymen, retreating before Dalzell's deftly handled sword, and fighting back with his rifle butt, retreated so close to the edge of the roof that, in another instant, he had fallen to the street below, breaking his neck.

Ere the last dozen Americans had succeeded in reaching the roof the fight was over, for the few Mexicans still able to fight suddenly threw down their rifles, shouting pleadingly:

"Piedad! piedad!" (pity).

"Accept all surrenders!" shouted Lieutenant Trent at the top of his voice.

Four quivering, frightened Mexicans accepted this mercy, standing huddled together, their eyes eloquent with fear.

The fight had been a short, but savage one. A glance at the roof's late defenders showed, including the man lying in the street below, eight dead Mexicans, one of whom was the boyish lieutenant of infantry who had commanded this detachment. Nine more were badly wounded. The four prisoners were the only able-bodied Mexicans left on the roof.

"Pardon, but shall we have time for our prayers?" asked one of the surrendered Mexicans, approaching Lieutenant Trent.

"Time for your prayers?" Trout repeated. "Take all the time you want."

"But when do you shoot us?" persisted the fellow, humbly.

"Shoot you?" repeated Trent, in amazement, speaking rapidly in the Spanish he had acquired at Annapolis and practiced in many a South American port. Then it dawned upon this American officer that, in the fighting between Mexican regulars and rebels it had been always the custom of the victors to execute the survivors of the vanquished foe.

"My poor fellow," ejaculated Trent, "we Americans always pride ourselves on our civilization. We don't shoot prisoners of war.

You will be treated humanely, and we shall exchange you with your government."

"What did that chap say?" Dalzell demanded, in an undertone, as Darrin laughed.

"The Mexican said," Dave explained, "that he hoped he wouldn't be exchanged until the war is over."

"There is a hospital detachment signaling from down the street, sir," reported a seaman from the edge of the roof.

Trent stepped quickly over to where he could get a view of the hospital party. Then he signaled to the hospital men, four in number, carrying stretchers, and commanded by a petty officer, that they were to advance.

"Any of our men need attention, sir?" asked the petty officer, as he reached the roof.

"Two of our men," Trent replied. "And nine Mexicans."

When it came their turn to have their wounds washed and bandaged with sterilized coverings, the Mexicans looked bewildered. Such treatment at the hands of an enemy was beyond their comprehension.

A room below was turned over for hospital use, and there the wounded of both sides were treated.

Still the firing continued heavily throughout the city. Trent, with his field glass constantly to his eyes, picked out the nearest roof-tops from which the Mexicans were firing. Then he assigned sharpshooters to take care of the enemy on these roofs.

"We can do some excellent work from this position," the lieutenant remarked to his two younger officers.

It was peculiar of this fight that no regular volleys of shots were exchanged. The Mexicans, from roof-tops, from windows and other places of hiding, fired at an American uniform wherever they could see it.

The very style of combat adopted by the enemy made it necessary for the Americans, avoiding needless losses, to fight back in the same sniping way. Slowly, indeed, were these numerous detachments of Mexicans, numbering some eight hundred men in all, driven back.

Boom! boom! boom! The Mexican artillery now started into life, driving its shells toward the invaders.

"The real fight is going to begin now," uttered Dave, peering eagerly for a first glimpse of the artillery smoke.

"I hope the ships tumble down whole squares of houses!" was Danny Grin's fervent wish.

"If they start that, we're in a hot place," smiled Trent, coolly.

From the harbor came the sound of firing.

"Why, there's only one of our ships firing!" exclaimed Darrin.

"The 'Prairie' is using some of our guns!"

Presently the heavier detonations died out. So splendidly had the "Prairie's" gunners served their pieces that the Mexican artillerymen had been driven from their positions.

"These Mexicans will have to wait until they get out of range of the Navy's guns before they can hope to do much with their artillery," laughed Lieutenant Trent, then turned again to see what his sailormen were doing in the way of "getting" Mexican snipers from other roofs.

Every minute a few bullets, at least, hissed over the roof on which the detachment was posted.

Trent, believing that he was exposing more men than were needed, ordered twenty seamen to the floor below.

By one o'clock the firing died slowly away. Though the Mexicans had made a brave resistance, and had done some damage, they had been so utterly outclassed by better fighting men that they wearied of the unequal struggle.

"But when the enemy get heavy reinforcements from the rear," Trent predicted, as he stood looking over the city, "they'll put up a fight here in Vera Cruz that will be worth seeing!"

"I can't help wondering," mused Dave Darrin aloud, "what the rest of the day will bring forth."

"It will be the night that may bring us our real ordeal," hinted Lieutenant Trent.

XVIII. In the House of Surprises

"Dalzell, I wish you would take four men and find the commanding officer ashore," requested Lieutenant Trent.

"Report to him our present position, as well as what we have done, and get his instructions."

Saluting, Dan signed to four sailormen to accompany him. Within an hour he had returned.

"We are going to hold what we have taken of the city, and probably shall push our lines further into the town. It is believed that after dark we shall have trouble with Mexican snipers."

"We have had some already," said the lieutenant grimly.

"We believe, sir," Dan reported, "that, after dark, there will be even more vicious sniping. The Mexicans are in an ugly mood, and will spare no effort to make us miserable for our audacity in landing armed men on their soil."

"And our orders?"

"You are directed, Lieutenant, to hold this roof until you have silenced all sniping within easy range, and then you are to fall back to the Post-office and report to the senior officer there.

In the meantime you will send in a petty officer and sufficient force to accompany any of your wounded men who are badly enough hurt to require a surgeon's attention."

The squad that had accompanied Ensign Dalzell was immediately ordered to return with the wounded, after which Trent and his officers gave their whole attention to locating every Mexican sniper on every roof-top within six hundred yards of their position.

So well was this done that at least a dozen Mexican sharpshooters were killed within the next hour.

For half an hour after that Trent surveyed every roof-top with his field glass. As no more shots crossed the roof on which the detachment was posted, Lieutenant Trent then concluded that his commission had been executed, and gave the order to return.

The Mexican dead and wounded were left in the building, a notice being posted on the door in order that the sanitary corps men might know where to find them. The four uninjured prisoners were now placed in the center of the detachment, and Trent marched his command back to the post-office. There the prisoners were turned over to the custody of the provost officer.

"Step inside, men, and you'll find something to eat," was the welcome news Trent gave his detachment of men.

Darrin and Dalzell were sent to a restaurant near by, where the officers were eating a welcome meal.

"Hadn't you better go first, sir?" Darrin asked.

"Simply because I am the ranking officer with this detachment?" smiled the lieutenant. "You two are younger, and therefore are probably hungrier than I am."

Dave was the first to finish his meal in the restaurant, and hurried to relieve Lieutenant Trent of the command of the detachment.

Altogether there were now some two hundred men at the post-office station; these were being held in readiness to reinforce the American fighters in any part of the city where they might be needed.

Until after dark the "Long Island's" detachment remained there, enviously watching other detachments that marched briskly away.

As soon as dark had come down, the popping of rifles was almost continuous.

"I wish we had orders to clear the whole town of snipers," muttered Danny Grin impatiently.

"Undoubtedly that would take more men than we have ashore," Trent replied. "There would be no sense in occupying the whole city until we have driven out every hostile Mexican ahead of us. We might drive the Mexican soldiers much further, but the trouble is that hundreds of them have joined in the sport of sniping at the hated Americanos. If we pushed our way through the town, at once we would then have Mexican firing ahead of us and also at the rear. No fighting men behave well under such circumstances."

An hour later it became plain that Trent's detachment had some new work cut out for it, for a commissary officer now directed that the men be marched down the street to receive rations.

"We're going to have night work all right, then, and perhaps plenty of it," Darrin declared to his chum. "If we were going to remain here rations wouldn't be furnished us."

Trent was inside, personally seeing to matters, when a sentry halted a man in civilian clothes.

"A friend," replied the man in answer to the challenge.

"Advance and give your name," persisted the sentry.

"Lieutenant Cantor of the 'Long Island.'"

At hearing that name, from one in civilian dress, Dave stepped forward.

"You've been halted by a man from your own ship, sir," nodded Darrin, on getting close enough to see that the man really was Cantor.

"Hullo," was Trent's greeting, as he stepped outside. "On duty, Cantor?"

"Not official duty," replied the other lieutenant.

"You are authorized to be ashore, of course?" continued Trent, surveying his brother officer, keenly, for, at such a time, it was strange to see a naval officer ashore in anything but uniform.

"I have proper authority for being ashore," Cantor nodded.

"That is all, then," said Lieutenant Trent. "You may proceed, of course, but you are going to be halted and held up by every sentry who sees you. You would get through the town much more easily in uniform."

"I suppose so," nodded Cantor, and passed on.

Close at hand two revolver shots rang out.

"Ensign Darrin," Trent ordered, "take a man with you and investigate that firing. Locate it, if possible, and if any Mexican attempts to fire again, try to bring him in——dead!"

"You will come with me," ordered Dave, turning to Coxswain Riley.

That petty officer hastily filling his magazine, followed Darrin, who drew his own revolver.

Hardly had officer and man turned the corner when a pistol flesh came from the top of a house nearly at the next corner.

The bullet did not pass near enough for them to hear it. Plainly the shot had been fired at some one else.

"Keep close to the buildings," ordered Dave, leading the way toward the sniper. "I don't want that fellow to see us until we're right under him and ready to get him."

Noiselessly they went up the street. It would be impossible for the sniper to see them unless he bent out over the edge of the roof from which he was firing.

While they were advancing another shot was fired from the same roof.

Watching the direction of the flash, Darrin was able to guess the direction of the man or men at whom the Mexican was firing.

"Some of our sharpshooters must still be posted on roofs," Dave whispered over his shoulder to Riley.

"I know one man who won't be doing much more on a roof, if I can get a sight of him for three seconds," gruffly answered Riley.

Then they stopped in front of the house in question.

"You slip across to the doorway opposite, and watch for your man," whispered Darrin. "I'll remain here and get any one who may attempt to run out of the house after you open fire."

Slipping across the street, Riley waited.

Scanning the house, from the roof of which the firing had proceeded, his drawn revolver in his hand, Dave made a quick discovery.

"Why, this is the very door from which I saw Cosetta peering out yesterday!" thought the young ensign. "I wonder if this is his home in Vera Cruz. I'll make a point of reporting this to Trent as soon as we return."

And then Dave heard a voice just inside the door say, in Spanish:

"You ought to stop that sniper on the roof. He took two shots at me as I came up the street."

"What infernal work is going on here?" Ensign Dave Darrin asked himself, hoarsely. "I how that voice. I'd know it anywhere.

That's Cantor speaking, and he's in the house of the enemy!"

XIX. A Traitor in the Service

Crack! spoke a rifle across the street.

"I got him, sir!" cried the exultant voice of Riley. "But I'll make sure of him, sir!"

Crack! The Navy rifle spoke once more.

Noiselessly Darrin darted across the street.

On the roof of the house in which Dave had seen the bandit, Cosetta, the previous day, lay a man, his head and shoulders hanging over the edge.

"Speak softly," cautioned Darrin. "I don't want those men inside the house to hear you."

"He fell just like that when I fired the first shot, sir," Riley whispered. "I sent him the second bullet to make sure that he wasn't playing 'possum."

"And now," Dave ordered, "run down the street as noiselessly as you can go, and tell Lieutenant Trent that I wish he would come here in person, if possible, with a few men. Ask him, with my compliments to approach as noiselessly as possible, for I expect to make a surprise 'bag' here."

Riley glanced at his officer in swift astonishment, but he saw that Darrin was speaking seriously, so he saluted and departed at a run.

Shortly Riley was back.

"Lieutenant Trent is coming, sir," whispered the coxswain. "There he is, turning the corner now."

"Stand before this door, and if you hear anything inside, so much the better," Darrin murmured, then hastily moved down the street, saluting his superior officer as he met him.

"Riley told you, perhaps, he got the sniper, sir," Dave began,

"but I have something even more astounding to report. I have every reason to believe that Lieutenant Cantor is in that house."

"A prisoner?" cried Trent, in an undertone.

"I have reason to believe that he isn't a prisoner," Dave went on.

"The house is the same from which I saw Cosetta peer yesterday, and I have reason to think that Lieutenant Cantor and the bandit are on fairly good terms."

"Be careful what you say, Darrin," cautioned Lieutenant Trent.

"In effect, you are accusing an officer of the United States Navy of treason!"

"That is the very crime of which I suspect him, sir," Dave answered, bluntly.

"Are you sure that your personal animosity has no part in that suspicion?"

"No dislike for a brother officer could induce me to charge him falsely," Dave answered simply.

"I beg your pardon, Darrin!" exclaimed Trent in sincere regret.

"I shouldn't have asked you that."

"Here is the door, sir," Dave reported, in a whisper, halting and pointing.

"I heard some one talking in there in low tones," reported Riley.

"I couldn't make it out, for he was talking in Spanish."

"I suspect that the voices were those of Lieutenant Cantor and Cosetta," Dave whispered.

"If they don't get away, we'll soon know," Trent whispered. "Stone and Root, I want you two to head the party that rushes the door.

As soon as you get inside don't stop for anything else, but rush to the rear windows and shoot any one who attempts to escape by the rear fence. Now, men, rush that door!"

So hard and sudden was the assault that the door gave way at the first rush.

Revolver in hand, Dave Darrin was directly behind the two seamen who had been ordered to rush to the rear windows.

Just as the door yielded to the assault an excited voice in Spanish exclaimed:

"This way—quick!"

The two sailors, who had been ordered to do nothing else except guard the rear windows, saw a figure vanish through the cellar doorway. Leaving that individual to others, Stone and Boot dashed into a rear room, throwing up the window.

In the darkness a second man also rushed for the cellar doorway.

But Dave Darrin's extended right hand closed on that party's collar.

"You're my prisoner," Dave hissed, throwing his man backward to the floor.

As several men rushed past them one sailor halted, throwing on the rays of a pocket electric light.

"You, Cantor, and here?" exclaimed Lieutenant Trent, aghast, as he recognized the features of his brother officer. "In mercy's name——"

"Let me up," broke in Cantor, angrily, and Dave released him.

"Ensign Darrin, I order you in arrest for attacking your superior officer."

"You won't observe that arrest, Darrin," spoke Trent, coldly.

"I'll be responsible for my order to that effect. Now, then, Cantor, what explanation have you to offer for being in the house of Cosetta, the bandit?"

"I'll give no explanation here," blazed Cantor, angrily, as now on his feet, he glared at Trent and Darrin—Dalzell was not there, for just at this instant the bolted cellar door, under his orders, was battered down, and Dan, with several sailormen at his back, darted down the stairs, by the light of a pocket lamp.

The cellar was deserted. There was no sign of the means by which the fugitive had escaped.

"Trent," said Cantor, with an effort at sternness, "you will not question me, here or now."

"I'll question you as much as I see fit, sir," Lieutenant Trent retorted, crisply. "Lieutenant Cantor, you are caught here under strange circumstances. You will explain, and satisfactorily, or——"

"Lieutenant Trent," retorted the other, savagely, "while you and I are officers of the same rating, my commission is older than yours, and I am ranking officer here. I direct you to withdraw your men and to leave this house."

"And I tell you," retorted Lieutenant Trent, "that I am on duty here. You have not said that you are here on duty. Therefore I shall not recognize your authority."

"Trent," broke in the other savagely, "if you——"

"I do," Lieutenant Trent retorted, stiffly. "Just that, in fact.

In other words, sir, I place you in arrest! Coxswain Riley, I shall hold you responsible for this prisoner. Take two other men, if you wish, to help you guard him. If Lieutenant Cantor escapes, or attempts to escape, then you have my order to shoot him, if necessary."

"Darrin," snarled Cantor, "this is all your doing!"

"Some of it, sir," Dave admitted, cheerfully. "I heard you and another man talking in here, and I sent for Lieutenant Trent.

As it happens, I know this to be the home, or the hanging-out place of Cosetta, and as I heard you talking just inside the door, I reported that fact to Lieutenant Trent."

"You will find nothing in this house, and I have not been, intentionally, in the house of a bandit, or in the house of any other questionable character," snarled Cantor, turning his back on Darrin. "And you are making a serious mistake in placing me in arrest."

"If your companion had been a proper one he would not have run away when American forces burst in here," Lieutenant Trent returned.

"Both on Ensign Darrin's report, and on my own observation and suspicion, I will take the responsibility of placing you in arrest.

I shall report your arrest to the commanding officer on shore, and will be guided by his instructions. You will have opportunity to state your case to him."

"And he will order my instant release as soon as he hears why I am on shore. Trent, you have made a serious mistake, and you are continuing to make it by keeping me in arrest."

"Sorry, Cantor; sorry, indeed, if I am doing you an injustice,"

Lieutenant Trent answered, with more feeling. "Yet under the circumstances, I cannot read my duty in any other way."

"You'll be sorry," cried Cantor, angrily.

"I don't know what to make of this, sir," Danny Grin reported, a much puzzled look showing on his face. "That cellar door was shut and bolted in our faces. We smashed the door instantly, and rushed down the stairs. When we reached the cellar we found it empty; whoever the man was he escaped in some way that is a mystery to me."

"Have you thought of the probability of a secret passage from the cellar?" inquired Trent.

"Yes, sir, and we've sounded the walls, but without any result."

"I'll go below with you," offered Trent. "Ensign Darrin, bear in mind that we are in danger of being surprised here, and would then find ourselves in something of a trap. Take ten men and go into the street, keeping close watch."

Twenty minutes later Trent came out, followed by his command, with whom marched the fuming Cantor, a prisoner.

"Darrin, there must be a secret passage from the cellar," Trent told his subordinate, "but we have been unable to find it. We are bringing with us the body of the sniper that Riley shot on the roof."

Line was formed and the detachment started back, Danny Grin and two sailormen acting as a rear guard against possible attack.

Arrived at the post-office Trent, accompanied by Cantor and the latter's guards, hurried off in search of the commanding officer of the shore force.

Fifteen minutes later Lieutenant Trent returned.

"I was sustained," he informed Dave and Dan. "It was tough, but the commanding officer directed me to send Cantor under escort back to the 'Long Island,' with a brief report stating why that officer was placed in arrest."

There followed more waiting, during which the sound of individual firing over the city became more frequent. Cantor's guard returned from the "Long Island," with word that Captain Gales had ordered that officer in arrest in his own quarters.

At last orders for Trent's detachment arrived.

"We are to push on into the city," Trent informed his ensigns.

"Twenty more 'Long Island' men will reach us within three minutes.

We are to silence snipers, and kill them if we catch them red-handed in firing on our forces. Above all, we are directed to be on the alert for any Americans or other foreigners who may be in need of help. We are likely to have a busy night."

Then, turning to his men, he added:

"Fall in by twos! Forward, march!"

XX. The Skirmish at the Diligencia

Trent saw his reinforcements approaching, and advanced to pick them up and add them to his command.

The column, now a strong one for patrol purposes, turned at right angles at the first corner, and marched on into the city, from the further side of which came the sound of firing.

Every man with the column carried a hundred and fifty rounds of ammunition. A machine gun was trailed along at the rear, in the event that it might be wanted.

Less than half a mile from the start, Lieutenant Trent's command sighted the American advance line ahead. Some of the seamen and marines in this advanced line occupied rooftops and kept up a variable, crackling fire.

As Trent approached the line, a lieutenant-commander approached him.

"Do you come to reinforce us, Lieutenant?" he inquired.

"No, sir," Trent answered. "We are to patrol, and to took out for Americans and other foreigners who may be in danger."

"Then I would caution you, Lieutenant, that this is the outer line. If you get ahead of us, take extreme care that you do nothing to lead us to mistake you for Mexicans."

"I shall be extremely cautious, sir," Trent replied, saluting, then marched his command through the line and on up the street.

"Good luck to you," called several of the sailors in the line.

"Bring us back a few Mexicans!"

"We'd like to, all right," replied Riley, in an undertone.

"Ensign Darrin, take a petty officer and four men and lead a point,"

Lieutenant Trent ordered. "I don't want the 'glory' of running a command into an ambush."

Calling to Riley and four sailormen, Dave led them down the street at the double-quick until he was two hundred yards in advance Then he led his men on at marching speed.

The work at the "point" is always the post of greatest danger with a marching command. This point is small in numbers, and moves well in advance. If the enemy has posted an ambuscade on the line of march it is the point that runs into this danger.

As they marched Dave did not preserve any formation of his men.

His detachment strode forward, alert and watchful, their rifles ready for instant use.

Three blocks away a horse stood tethered before a door. Hearing the sound of approaching feet a man looked hurriedly out of the doorway. Then he rushed to the horse and untied it.

"Halt!" Shouted Ensign Darrin, as he saw the man dart from the doorway. "Halt!" he ordered, a second time, as the man seized the horses's bridle ready to mount.

Quick as a flash the stranger drew a revolver, firing two shots down the street.

"Fire! Get him!" shouted Darrin.

Five rifles spoke, instantly. Just in the act of reaching the saddle the stranger plunged sideways, fell to the roadway, the startled horse galloping off without its rider.

"Don't run to him," commanded Dave Darrin. "We'll reach him soon enough."

Close at hand it was seen that the man was in the uniform of a Mexican officer. His insignia proved him to be a major.

"Dead," said Riley. "Two pills reached him, and either would have killed."

Dave nodded his head in assent, adding:

"Leave him. Our work is to keep the point moving."

When they had gone a quarter of a mile further, a sound of firing attracted the attention of the American detachment.

"Lieutenant Trent's compliments, sir," panted a breathless messenger, saluting, "and you will turn down the next corner, Ensign, and march toward the firing."

After a few minutes Dave sighted a large building ahead. He did not know the building, then, but learned afterwards that it was the Hotel Diligencia.

Almost as soon as Darrin perceived the building, snipers on its roof espied the Navy men.

Cr-r-rack! The brisk fire that rang out from the roof of the hotel was almost as regular as a volley of shots would have been.

Darrin ordered his men to keep close to the buildings on either side of the street, and to return the fire as rapidly as good shooting permitted.

"Drive 'em from that roof," was Darrin's order.

Lieutenant Trent arrived on the double-quick with the rest of the detachment.

"Give it to 'em, hot and heavy!" ordered Trent, and instantly sixty rifles were in action.

Suddenly a window, a some distance down the street from the Americans opened, and a man thrust a rifle out, taking aim. That rifle never barked, for Dave, with a single shot from his revolver, sent the would-be marksman reeling back.

"Watch that window, Riley, and fire if a head appears there," Dave directed. "There may be others in that room."

Cat-like in his watchfulness, Riley kept the muzzle of his weapon trained on that window.

"Look out overhead!" called Danny Grin, suddenly.

From the roofs of three houses overlooking the naval detachment fire opened instantly after the warning. Two of the "Long Island's" men dropped, one of them badly wounded.

Then the sailormen returned the fire. Two Mexicans dropped to the street, one shot through the head; the other wounded in the chest. Other Mexicans had been seen to stagger, and were probably hit. Thereafter a dozen seamen constantly watched the roofs close at hand, occasionally "getting" a Mexican.

"I know what I would do, if I had authority," Darrin muttered to his superior. "I'd send back for dynamite, and, whenever we were fired on from a house I'd bring it down in ruins."

It was a terrible suggestion, but being fired upon from overhead in a city makes fighting men savage.

Evidently the Mexicans on the hotel roof had been reinforced, for now the fire in that direction broke out heavier than ever.

"Shall I have the machine gun brought up, sir?" Dave hinted.

"Yes," approved Trent, crisply. "We'll see what a machine gun can do when brought to bear on a roof."

So Ensign Darrin ran back to give the order. The gun was brought up instantly, loaded, aimed and fired.

R-r-r-r-rip! Its volleys rang out. A rain of bullets struck at the edge of the hotel roof, driving back the snipers amid yells of pain.

Yet the instant the machine gun ceased its leaden cyclone the snipers were back at work, firing in a way that showed their rage.

"We can keep 'em down with the machine gun," declared Trent, "But it might take all the ammunition of the fleet to keep it running long enough unless we can make more hits."

In their recklessness the Mexicans exposed themselves so that four more of them fell before the seamen's rifles.

"Probably the Mexicans can get reinforcements," Dalzell muttered.

"Though we may hit a few in an hour's firing, they can replace every man we hit."

"At least we can give those fellows something to think about between now and daylight," Dave returned, compressing his lips grimly.

"Grenfel is wounded, sir, and Penniman has just been killed," reported a petty officer, saluting.

Lieutenant Trent hastened back to confirm the death of Penniman, and also to see if anything could be done for the comfort of the wounded man. He decided to send Grenfel back, two sailormen being detailed for that purpose.

"Look out for snipers," the officer warned the bearers of the wounded man. "Carry your rifles slung and be ready for instant work. If we hear you firing behind us I'll send men to help you through."

Along the street, ahead of the detachment, a man came crawling from the direction of the hotel.

In an instant a dozen sailormen leveled their weapons.

"Hold up there, men!" Darrin called, sharply.

"Don't shoot at him."

An instant later snipers on the hotel roof discovered the crawling man, opening fire on him so briskly that the endangered one rose to his feet and came sprinting toward the sailors with both hands uplifted.

"Lower your hands!" shouted Darrin. "They make targets. We won't fire on you!"

That the man understood English was plain from his instant obedience.

With Mexican bullets raining about him, the fugitive came on at headlong speed.

"Here! Stop!" Ensign Darrin ordered, catching the man and swinging him into a doorway. "Keep in there, and you're safe from the enemy's fire."

Swiftly Lieutenant Trent crossed the street to hear the escaped one, whom Darrin was already questioning.

"You're an American?" asked Dave.

"Yes!" came the answer.

"How did you come to be here?"

"Escaped from the basement of the hotel. I knew it was up to me to get through to you if I could live through the storm of bullets that I knew would be sent after me. My news is of the utmost importance!"

Then, to the astounded American Navy officers the stranger made this blood-stirring announcement:

"In the Hotel Diligencia are at least twenty American women!"

XXI. A Rescue and a "Facer"

"You're sure of that?" breathed Trent, tensely.

I ought to be, uttered the man, hoarsely. "One of the women is my wife, and another is my daughter! I haven't seen any of the women in five hours."

"How so?" asked Trent, sharply.

"The soldiers thrust me into the basement. Ever since I found myself alone I've been working with a penknife to dig out the mortar of the bricks in which the window bars were imbedded."

"The instant I had jerked enough bars loose I crawled through the opening and started for you."

Giving swift instructions to keep the machine gun going continuously, and to keep the fire trained on the edge of the hotel roof, Trent detailed four riflemen to remain with the machine gun man, then led the rest swiftly under the hail of bullets that raged over their heads.

In this mode of attack the sailormen gained the sidewalk under the hotel without a shot having been fired from the roof.

"Ensign Darrin, lead as many men as you can against the doors!" ordered the lieutenant. "Get them down as fast as you can!"

Their first assaults against the massive doors failing, four sailors were sent on a run for some form of battering ram. They returned with half of a telegraph pole that had been cut in two by shell fire in the afternoon.

Borne by a dozen stout jackies, the pole was dashed against the door. At the second assault the lock was broken. Dave dashed into the hotel at the head of his squad.

"Straight to the roof, Ensign Darrin!" shouted Lieutenant Trent.

"Ensign Dalzell, you will take ten men and endeavor to find the American women."

Then Trent, with the remainder of the command, rushed on after the advance guard. Up the stairs dashed Dave in the lead. The skylight proved not to be fastened.

Only a minute before had the machine gun stopped its murderous hail. Now some thirty Mexican soldiers crept to the edge of the roof to try their luck again with the sailormen up the street.

"There is only a handful of them," shouted one Mexican. "The gringos must be under the hotel, or in it!"

At that announcement there was a swift rush toward the skylight.

Just before they reached it Darrin sprang into sight, followed by his men. Short, sharp conflict followed. Twelve Mexicans, three of them killed, went down, and two American sailormen had been wounded when the enemy sent up their appeal for "piedad," or quarter.

Saluting, a sailorman reported to Lieutenant Trent that Ensign Dalzell had found the American women in the annex of the hotel.

None had been injured, but all were much frightened.

Leaving a petty officer in charge on the roof, Trent turned to Dave to say:

"Come along, Darrin. We'll see what can be done for our countrywomen."

Hastily descending, and following the messenger, the two officers were met at the door of a spacious room by Ensign Dalzell.

"Ladies," said Dan, turning, "here are Lieutenant Trent and Ensign Darrin. The former commands this detachment."

On the floor lay more than a dozen wounded Mexicans.

Two of the American women, having had nursing experience, had taken good care of the injured.

"Ladies," asked Lieutenant Trent, "have you been roughly treated by the Mexicans?"

"Far from it," said one of the women. "The Mexican officer in command treated us with great consideration. We were in the main part of the hotel, the wooden building. The Mexican officer told us that his men were going to occupy the roof as a military necessity, and that there would be fighting. He assured us that we would be safer in the annex, and escorted us here."

"Where is that officer now?" asked Trent, promptly. "I would like to shake hands with him."

"I am afraid you would have to travel inside the Mexican lines," said another woman. "A little while ago a party of horsemen rode up to the rear of the hotel, and one officer, a lieutenant-colonel, came up into the hotel and sought the officer in command here, ordering him to withdraw with his men, leaving only a few behind to keep up a show of resistance."

"I will see that you are taken at once inside the American lines," declared Trout. "There you will be safe."

Preparations were quickly made. The Mexican prisoners who were able to walk were formed under guard. The American women walked on ahead of the prisoners. Ensign Darrin, with half of the command, took charge of the rescued women and prisoners, and went to the lower part of the town, to turn over the refugees and prisoners.

Trent posted a squad of his men, under Boatswain's Mate Pearson, on the roof. The rest of the seamen were stationed in the street, and Dave was placed in immediate command, with instructions to keep a sharp lookout on all sides. The boatswain's mate was to report to him anything observed from the roof.

In half an hour Danny Grin's detachment returned, coming almost on the double-quick. Dalzell, wide-eyed with news, drew his brother officers aside.

"Cantor has escaped!" Dan murmured, excitedly. "It was not widely known on the 'Long Island' that he was in arrest. So it seems that he went down over the side, stepped into a gig, and ordered the coxswain to take him ashore. As he was in civilian dress he was not likely to be closely observed by sentries on shore, and so far no trace of him has been discovered."

"I believe he has left the Navy," Dave nodded. "Further, as he appeared to have strange interests ashore, I believe that he has deserted to the enemy."

"Don't say that," begged Trent earnestly. "Bad as he may have been, Cantor was trained in all the traditions of the Navy. I can believe him wild, or even bad, but I can't believe him big enough scoundrel to desert to the enemy."

"It's a fearful thing to believe," Darrin admitted, "but what are we to believe? We found him in the house of that notorious bandit, Cosetta. Do you feel any doubt, sir, that Cosetta has proposed, or will propose to the Huerta government that he bring his men in under the Mexican flag in return for a pardon? There is another side to it, sir. The landing plans were stolen from Captain Gales's desk. Doesn't it now seem likely that Cantor stole the plans, and turned them over to Cosetta, who would be delighted at the chance of being able to turn them over to the commander of the Mexican forces around Vera Cruz?"

"The suspicion seems plausible enough," Trent admitted, sadly,

"yet it is a terrible thing to believe."

"What's that?" cried Dan, jumping suddenly as shots rang out in another street close at hand.

First had come three or four shots, almost immediately a crashing fire had followed.

"Ensign Darrin," ordered Trent, promptly, "take thirty men and locate that firing. If you run into anything that you cannot handle, rush word back to me."

Like a shot, Dave Darrin was off, running at the head of thirty sailormen. Around two corners they dashed, then came in sight of a scene that made their blood boil.

Some forty men stood in the street, firing at a house from whose windows flashes of pistol shots came. Plainly the defenders were pitifully weak. Up to this moment the men in the street had not observed Ensign Dave's party.

"Sprint down close enough, Riley," Dave directed, "to see whether the men in the street are Mexicans or our own men. I suspect they're Mexicans."

"They're Mexicans, sir!" panted Riley, returning at a sprint.

"Ready! Aim! Fire!" shouted Darrin. "Charge. Fire as you need."

As the volley rang out several Mexicans dropped. Dave dashed down the street at the head of his men.

A feeble return of the fire came from the Mexicans, who then broke and fled to the next corner.

"Are there Americans inside the house?" called Dave, halting before the open but darkened windows.

"Indeed there are!" came a jubilant voice. "Are you Americans?"

"From the 'Long Island,'" Dave answered. "Come out and join us, and we'll take you to safety."

"Now, heaven be praised for this!" answered the same man's voice, devoutly. "Come, my dear ones. We are under the protection of our own Navy men."

Out into the street came a man and woman past middle age. Behind them followed a man of perhaps twenty-five, and a woman who was still younger.

"I am Ensign Darrin, at your service," Darrin announced, raising his cap.

"We were never so glad before to see a naval officer, Mr. Darrin," responded the older man, heartily. "Tom and I had only our revolvers with which to defend ourselves. Permit me. I am Jason Denman.

This is my wife, this our daughter, and this our son."

Dave stepped closer to acknowledge the introduction. When, in the darkness, his gaze rested on the young woman, Ensign Darrin gave a gasp of surprise.

"You are wondering if we have met before," smiled the young woman, sadly. "Yes, Mr. Darrin, we have. You thrashed that bully, Mr. Cantor, one night in New York."

"I did not know, then, that he was a brother officer," murmured Dave, "but I would have struck him even if I had known."

"He was here to-night, with the Mexicans whom you drove away," continued the young woman.

"With Mexican soldiers?" gasped Darrin.

"There were but a few soldiers," Miss Denman continued. "The rest were Mexican civilians, brigands, I believe."

"Before I can discuss matters," Darrin replied quickly, "I must get you to a place of safety. You will please march in the middle of this small command. Fall in, men, by fours."

As quickly as possible the line was in motion. Dave marched back to the Hotel Diligencia, where he made instant report to his superior.

"This is the worst news possible!" gasped Lieutenant Trent. "I must send word to the commanding officer downtown, and will do so by Dalzell, who will take thirty men and escort the Denmans to safety."

"As to Lieutenant Cantor, sir," Dave asked his commander. "He is to be arrested wherever found, I suppose?"

"He is to be arrested," replied Trent, between closed teeth.

"If be resists arrest, or if he fires upon our party, he is to be shot at once."

"Shot?" gasped Dave Darrin.

"You have your orders, Darrin, and they are proper, legal orders."

"And I shall obey the order, if need arise."

From across the street, as Darrin finished speaking, a window was raised and several rifles were aimed directly at him. Then shots rang out.

XXII. Playing Birdman in War

Unconsciously Ensign Dave Darrin swayed slightly, so close did the shower of bullets pass him.

Then the reports of more than a score of American rifles rang out just as Danny Grin reached his chum's side.

"Hurt, David, little giant?" asked Dan.

"Not even touched, so far as I know," smiled Darrin.

"Boatswain's mate, take a dozen men and leap into that house through the open window!" Lieutenant Trent called, sternly.

Then the senior officer hurried over to the subordinate.

"Did the rascals get you, Darrin?" demanded the lieutenant, anxiously.

"I don't think so, sir," was the reply. "I don't believe I've a scratch."

"It's a marvel," gasped Trent, after having taken a pocket electric light and by its rays examined the young ensign. "I believe every one of those Mexicans aimed at you."

"It seemed so, sir," Dave laughed.

Danny Grin had already gone, and without orders. The instant he was satisfied that his chum was uninjured Dalzell had leaped away in the wake of the party led by the boatswain's mate. Now Dan was climbing in through the window, helped by two seamen who had been left on guard outside.

But the search of the house revealed only one dead Mexican, not in uniform, who had been killed by the sailormen's fire, and a trail of blood that must have been shed by the wounded enemy as they were carried away.

"Bandits—Cosetta's men—not soldiers, this time," was Dan's instant guess.

The miscreants and their wounded, as the blood trail showed, had escaped by way of the rear of the house. None were in sight by the time the Americans reached the back yard.

"Shall we pursue, sir?" asked the boatswain's mate, saluting.

"In what direction?" asked Dalzell, scanning the ground. "The rascals can run faster than we can follow a trail of blood. But you may go back to Lieutenant Trent, report just what we have found, and bring me his orders."

"Lieutenant Trent believes that you are not likely to catch up with the fugitives, and there would be danger of running a handful of men into a cunning Mexican ambush," the petty officer reported, two minutes later.

After that the night dragged slowly. Trent allowed some of his men to sleep in doorways an hour or so at a time, but there were enough sailormen awake to handle any sudden surprise or attack.

At four in the morning Trent's command was relieved by a company of marines with two machine guns.

Lieutenant Trent, under orders, marched his command back to a park in which tents had been pitched. Here, under blankets on the ground, the tired sailormen and their three officers were allowed to sleep until noon.

By daylight of that day, Wednesday, the first detachment ashore had been strongly reinforced.

There was still much sniping in the city, though now the firing came mostly from the rear of the town. Slowly, patiently, the Navy detachments pushed their way forward, attending to snipers and also searching houses for concealed arms and ammunition.

In the course of this search hundreds of Mexicans were arrested.

Even some very small boys were found with knives.

On the third day the residents of the city were warned that all who possessed arms must take their weapons to the provost officer's headquarters. About nineteen hundred men, women and boys turned in their weapons, running all the way from the latest models of rifles down to century-old muskets.

Soon after orders were issued that all natives found armed were to be executed on the spot. To the average American this might have seemed like a cruel order, but now the list of dead sailormen and marines had reached twenty-five, and there were scores of wounded American fighting men. Stern steps were necessary to stop the deadly sniping.

Another day passed, and Vera Cruz, now completely occupied by the Americans, had ceased to be a battle ground. Now and then a solitary shot was heard, but in every instance the sniper was tracked down, and his fate provided another tenant for the Vera Cruz burying ground.

Detachments were now posted even to the suburbs of the city.

On the morning of the fifth day, just after Trent's detachment had been roused from a night's sleep in a park in the heart of Vera Cruz, orders came to the lieutenant that seemed to please him.

"We are to march as soon as we have had breakfast," Trent told his two junior officers. "We are to take position a mile and a half south-west of the advanced line, and there wait to protect, if necessary, the Navy aviators, who are going out soon on a scouting flight. At the same time, we are to keep a lookout for the appearance of one of the airships that the Huerta forces are supposed to possess. If we see one, we are to try to get it with the machine guns or rifles. And here is a piece of news that may interest you youngsters. If requested by either of the Navy aviators, I am to allow one of my junior officers to go up in the airship to help with the preparation of field notes to be used in making a military map. If such a demand be made upon me, which of you young men shall be the one to go?"

Ensigns Dave and Dan had turned glowing faces to Trent. Then they glanced at each other. A scouting trip in one of the Navy aircraft would be an unqualified delight to either.

"Let Darrin go," urged Danny Grin.

"I withdraw, in favor of Dalzell," spoke Dave, with equal quickness.

"Which shall it be, then?" Trent demanded quizzically.

"Dalzell," said Dave.

"Darrin," decreed Danny Grin.

"How am I to decide?" asked the lieutenant, smiling at the two eager faces. Then, suddenly he added: "I have it! Which excelled the other in map work at Annapolis?"

"Darrin had the higher marks! I defy you to dispute that, David, little giant."

As Danny Grin's statement was true, Dave could not dispute it, so be contented himself by saying:

"Dalzell's map-work at Annapolis was good enough to suit any need around here, and I shall be glad to see Dalzell get the chance."

"On that showing," returned Trent, "Darrin shall have the chance if it comes this way."

After a quick meal the detachment was under way. In about an hour the position ordered had been taken.

"Here comes the first Navy birdman!" cried Dan suddenly, pointing townward.

Just appearing over the housetops, and soaring to an elevation of a thousand feet, came one of the huge hydro-aeroplanes in which Navy aviators had long been practicing for just such work as this.

Capable of coming down and resting on the water, or of rising from the same, these aircraft were ideally suited to the work.

Swiftly over Vera Cruz came the airship, then straight out over the advanced line, and next on toward the detachment beyond.

"He isn't coming down," cried Danny Grin in a tone of genuine disappointment. "No chance for you on that one, Davy! Too bad!"

Yet suddenly the rattling noise nearly overhead almost ceased as the engine was shut off. Then gracefully the craft voloplaned and touched the ground, just inside the detachment's line.

"Great work, Bowers!" cried Trent, recognizing in the Navy birdman a former classmate at Annapolis.

"Thank you, Trent. You have an officer, haven't you, to help me with field notes on this survey?"

"I have two," smiled Trent, "but I am afraid I can spare only one. Lieutenant Bowers, Ensign Darrin. Hop aboard, Darrin!"

In a twinkling Ensign Dave had shaken hands with the birdman, adding:

"At your orders, sir!"

Then Dave stepped nimbly up to the platform. "Take a seat beside me, with your field-glasses ready. Here's your field note-book."

At a sign from Lieutenant Bowers, the eager sailormen parted in front of the airship, which, after a brief run, soared gracefully once more.

Behind Lieutenant Bowers stood a sailor with a signal flag.

"Step to the rear," Bowers directed, over his shoulder, "and wigwag back: 'O.K. Stopped only for assistant.' Sign, 'Bowers.' "Aye, aye, sir," answered the signalman. "Lieutenant Sherman's airship is rising from the harbor, sir," reported the signalman.

"Very good," nodded Lieutenant Bowers, and kept his eyes on his course. "Darrin, are you taking all the observations necessary and entering them?"

"Aye, aye, sir."

"There's the railroad bridge about which the admiral was so anxious," said Bowers, presently. "You will note that the bridge stands, but the railroad tracks have been torn up."

"Aye, aye, sir," Dave reported, after using his field glass.

"That's one of the things we wanted to know," Bowers continued.

"And keep an especially sharp lookout, Ensign, for any signs of Mexican forces, hidden or in the open."

But, though Dare looked constantly, he saw no indications of the Mexican column with which General Maas had retreated.

"Too bad about Cantor of your ship," murmured Lieutenant Bowers, a little later. "Though the forces have been searching for him for three or four days he can't be found anywhere. It must be fearful to be tried for treason to one's flag. I am hoping that Cantor will be brought in dead. Under such charges as he faces, there's more dignity in being dead."

"Much more," Dave assented, in a low voice.

On and on they flew. Once, when Dave sighted moving persons in the distance, Bowers drove the craft up to three thousand feet above the earth. But soon, under the glass, these suspects turned out to be a party of wretched refugees, hurrying, ragged, barefooted, starving, gaunt and cactus-torn, to safety within the American lines at Vera Cruz.

For many miles Bowers's craft flew inland, and much valuable information was picked up, besides the data from which any naval draughtsman could construct a very good map of that part of the country.

At last Lieutenant Bowers turned back.

Suddenly Dave exclaimed, "Hullo! There are two men coming out of the adobe house ahead."

The house in question was out about four miles beyond Trent's station.

Dave kept his glass turned on the two men on the ground, at the same the trying to conceal the glass from their view.

"They haven't rifles," he told Lieutenant Bowers. Then, as the aircraft passed and left the adobe house to the rear, Darrin bent over and whispered something in Bowers's ear that the signalman behind them could not hear.

XXIII. The Dash For the Traitor

A Little later the hydro-aeroplane returned to Lieutenant Trent's position.

Dave placed in the hands of the lieutenant the field note-book, which had been so carefully kept that any officer could draw a map from it at need.

Lightly the big airship touched the earth just inside Trent's line. Dave, shaking hands with his temporary commanding officer, added:

"Thank you for something I've always wanted—a flight over a real enemy's country."

"I've greatly enjoyed having you with me," Lieutenant Bowers responded.

"Trent, you've obliged me hugely by giving me so good an assistant.

Good-bye, fellows."

The birdman was again several hundred feet up in the air.

"What kind of a trip was it?" asked Dalzell.

"It was wonderful," Dave breathed. "And I've brought back news of great importance!"

"Did you get it from Mexico City or Washington?" Trent broke in.

"Of course not," Dave said, wonderingly.

"Then you've no such news as we can tell you," Danny went on, quickly, sadly. "Can you guess what it is?"

"Our government isn't going to surrender us to the Huerta forces, is it?"

"Not quite so bad as that," Dan admitted. "But listen! The governments of Brazil, Argentine and Chili have offered their services in arranging mediation between Washington and Mexico City. And Washington has accepted!"

"No war?" gasped Dave Darrin, thunderstruck. "No war against a country that has treated our citizens so outrageously? Has Huerta accepted, too?"

"We haven't heard, as yet," Trent took up the thread of information,

"but there is a rumor that Huerta will be only too glad to accept, even if only as a bluff. If, by any kind of a scheme, he can hold us off for a few weeks, he will then have his army consolidated, will have the railroad and bridges destroyed, and the mountain roads to Mexico City all planted with mines, and then be able, most likely, to make the advance of our Army to Mexico City cost us hundreds of good Yankee lives per mile!"

"And Funston's brigade of regulars is on the way, too!" Danny Grin added, sorrowfully. "Won't there be some mad soldier-boys?"

Ensign Dave Darrin stood with bowed head for a few moments. To him it seemed hard indeed, if the Mexicans, after almost countless outrages against American citizens, even to the extent of assassination—and worse—were to escape their richly deserved punishment through a few tricks of diplomacy.

Then the spirit of the service, so strong in him, came to the surface. To others belonged the right of command, his only the privilege to obey.

He raised his head, smiling. Then his own matter of report leaped back into his mind. Bringing his heels together, straightening up, he saluted:

"Sir, I have the honor to report that, while on the air flight, I noted the location of a solitary adobe house about four miles out. From that house came two men whom I distinctly recognized through my field glass to be Lieutenant Cantor and the bandit, Cosetta. Lieutenant Cantor, after one or two upward looks, bowed his head and kept his eyes to the ground, but I am positive, sir, of my identification of both men."

"And Cosetta's bandits?" inquired Trent. "Did you see any signs of them?"

"No, sir, but the adobe house is large enough to hide them all."

"Any trenches near the house?"

"No, sir."

"I am afraid it would do little good to approach the house in broad daylight," Lieutenant Trent reflected, excitedly, "but it should make an excellent enterprise late in the night. I will report this matter to Commander Dillingham, in command of the advanced line. With his permission, we'll try to-night for the capture of that much needed pair of rascals."

"Our signalman is being called from the advanced line, sir," reported a saluting sailorman.

Wheeling, Trent ordered his own signalman to wig-wag, "Go ahead."

Then the lieutenant stood reading the message.

"You will fall back upon the advanced line," the signal read.

"Send 'O.K.,'" called the lieutenant.

"Sir," cried a sentry, "There's a party coming in. You can just make 'em out, sir."

Stepping forward, Trent brought up his fieldglasses, while Dave informed him:

"That was the second matter upon which I intended to report to you, sir. I observed those people from the airship. I believe them to be refugees."

Immediately Lieutenant Trent signaled the advanced line, reporting the party seen out on the plain.

"Then wait and escort them in," came Commander Dillingham's order.

"O.K., sir," the detachment's signalman wigwagged back.

In three-quarters of an hour more the painfully moving party reached the detachment. They were truly refugees, released from Mexico City and nearby points.

The sight of these suffering people, some hundred and twenty in number, and mainly Americans, was enough to cause many of the sailormen to shed unaccustomed tears, and not to be ashamed of them, either!

Every degree of wretchedness and raggedness was represented by these sufferers of indescribable wrongs.

Men, and women too, showed the marks of rough handling by brutal prison guards. There were many disfigured faces. One man carried in a crude sling, an arm broken by a savage Mexican captor.

Such spectacles were of daily occurrence in Vera Cruz! These wretched men, women and children had been on the way on foot since the middle of the night, having painfully trudged in over the twenty-five-mile gap in which the tracks had been torn up.

Ordering his men to fall in, Lieutenant Trent escorted the patient, footsore procession in to the advanced line. The sailormen adjusted their own steps to those of the sufferers. As they moved along Coxswain Riley vented his feelings in an undertone:

"We need only a band and a dead march to make a funeral of this!

And—yet—no war!"

From the slow-moving ranks came only a deep, surly growl. Lieutenant Trent turned around, then faced front once more; he had no heart to utter a rebuke.

Mingled cheers and growls greeted the arrival of the pitiful fugitives at the advanced lines. The cheers were for the fact that the refugees had at least escaped with their lives. The growls were for the Mexicans responsible for this spectacle.

"We must secure conveyances of some kind to take these poor people into the city," declared Commander Dillingham. "I will send a messenger to ask for the best sort of carriages that can be found in a place like Vera Cruz. Lieutenant, as the second airship is returning yonder, your duty outside the lines is over. You may march your men to the camp yonder and let them rest until they are needed."

"I wish a word with you, sir, when possible," Trent urged.

"At once," replied Commander Dillingham. Darrin was with Lieutenant Trent when he reported the discovery of the whereabouts of Cantor and Cosetta.

"It wouldn't do any good to go out in the daytime," the commander decided. "The fellows would see you coming, and take to their heels toward the interior before you came within rifle range.

You will have to go after dark, Lieutenant, and better still, towards midnight. In the early evening they might be watching for an American advance, but late at night they would decide that their hiding place is not suspected. You will plan, Lieutenant, to leave here at a little before eleven o'clock to-night, which will bring you to the adobe house about midnight. I will communicate my information to the commander of the forces ashore, and, if not reversed by him, my present instructions will hold."

The orders were not reversed. At 10.45 that night Trent marched his detachment beyond the advanced line. Every man moved as softly as he could, and there was no jingling of military accoutrements.

Finally the adobe house stood out dimly against the night sky at a distance of less than half a mile.

"If Cosetta has his men with him, they are doubtless sleeping outside, on their arms, tonight," Lieutenant Trent explained, after a softly ordered halt. "When we attack, Cantor and perhaps Cosetta, will try to escape from the rear of the house, making a quick dash for the interior, while Cosetta's men try to hold us in check. Therefore, Darrin, I am going to let you have fifteen men. You will make a wide detour of the house, and try to work to a position in the immediate rear. You will have your men lie flat on the ground, and I will take every precaution that my men do not fire upon you. If you see Cosetta or Cantor, you will know what to do."

"Aye, aye, sir," responded Ensign Darrin.

With the stealth of a cat Dave advanced, revolver in hand. He was behind the house, and within forty feet of the back door, when a crashing fire ripped out in front.

Cosetta's men, lying on the ground, had failed to note Darrin's flanking movement, but had discovered Trent's advance.

Suddenly the rear door flew open, and two men dashed out.

"Halt!" shouted Dave, dashing forward.

Cosetta reached for a revolver. Before he could produce it Darrin's bullet laid him low.

But Cantor sprang at the young ensign with such force as to bear him to earth.

One of Cantor's hands gripped at Dave's throat. In the traitor's other hand flashed a narrow-bladed Mexican knife.

"The score is settled at last!" hissed Cantor, as he drove the weapon down.

XXIV. Conclusion

It's the thought that can take shape in the hundredth part of a second that saves human life at such a crisis.

The instant he felt the hand at his throat there flashed into Dave's mind a sailor's trick that had come to him, indirectly, from Japan.

Clasping both of his own hands inside of Cantor's arm, and holding both arms rigidly, Darrin rolled himself over sideways with such force as to send the traitor sprawling.

Dave got to his feet with the speed of desperation that rules when one is in danger.

Yet the traitor was hardly a whit behind him in rising.

Crouching low, with the knife in his hand, Cantor watched his chance to spring.

Ensign Dave's revolver lay on the ground. To take the second needed to recover the weapon would cost him his life at the point of the knife.

Cosetta, lying desperately wounded, tried to crawl over the ground a few feet in order to reach his own pistol.

"Take it!" hissed Cantor, leaping forward, panther-like, and making a sudden lunge.

Throwing up his left arm to ward off the weapon, Dave felt the sharp sting of steel in his forearm.

Heedless of his wound, Dave, with his right hand, gripped the wrist of the traitor.

It was a struggle, now, of trained athletes. Each used his left hand in struggling for the advantage, watching, warily, also, for a chance to use his feet or knees.

On the other side of the house the firing still continued.

Neither Dave nor his antagonist spoke. Silently they battled, until both went to the ground.

Though Dave might have won with his fists, Cantor's superior weight and muscle counted in this deadly clinch. And now Darrin found himself lying with both shoulders touching, while Cantor, kneeling over him, fought to free his knife hand for the final thrust.

On the ground beyond, through the hail of fire from their own comrades, wriggled Riley and two sailormen. The instant they neared the corner of the house all three leaped to their feet, dashing to the aid of their young officer.

"Don't shoot, Riley!" panted Ensign Dave Darrin. "Stun him!"

In a twinkling Riley reversed his clutch on his aimed rifle, bringing down the butt across the traitor's head. Cantor rolled over.

"Shall I wind up this Greaser, sir?" asked one of the sailormen, thrusting the muzzle of his rifle against Cosetta's breast.

"No!" Dave commanded, sharply. "We don't kill when we can take prisoners."

So the seaman contented himself with standing guard over the wounded brigand.

Suddenly the machine gun began to rip into the ranks of the bandits in front of the house. An instant later a dozen sailors whom Riley had left behind reached the flanking position for which they had rushed, and began pouring in a raking fire on the bandits.

Assailed from two sides Cosetta's now leaderless band broke in wild confusion, and fled, leaving behind many dead and wounded.

Quickly Trent surrounded the house, but there was no one inside.

And then Trout came upon his subordinate.

"Why, Darrin, you're hurt!" he cried, pointing to Dave's left arm.

As the firing died out Dave glanced down at his sleeve.

"Off with your blouse!" spoke the lieutenant, in a tone of command.

Riley helped to remove the blouse, meanwhile explaining:

"We didn't crawl all the way to you, sir. We ran until we got into a hail of bullets from our own messmates. Then, sir, that we might reach you, we threw ourselves down and crawled a few yards."

"Riley," declared Dave, heartily, "you're as good a man as there is in the United States Navy!"

Whereat the petty officer fairly blushed with pride.

"All our men are so good," added Trent, genially, "that it's a difficult task to pick the best."

The surviving bandits had fled. Trent's orders forbade pursuing beyond the house. So, while Riley and Dave were examining the deep wound in the latter's forearm, Trent gave orders to bury the dead in shallow graves and to pick up the wounded for removal to Vera Cruz.

Immediately upon returning to the advanced line Dave was ordered back to the "Long Island" for prompt surgical treatment. Though his wound was not dangerous, in itself, the climate of Vera Cruz is one in which there is the gravest danger of blood-poisoning setting in in any wound.

The day after that, duty on shore being lighter, and officers being needed aboard, Danny Grin was ordered back to ship duty, while Lieutenant Trent remained ashore with his detachment.

Having broken arrest, Cantor, on being returned to ship, was placed behind the steel bars of the ship's brig. There was no further escape for him. But his brother officers sighed their relief when a board of surgeons declared Lieutenant Cantor to be hopelessly insane, and expressed their opinion that he had been in that unfortunate mental condition for at least some weeks. That removed the taint of treason from the "Long Island's" ward-room, as an insane man is never held responsible for his wrong acts.

It was gambling to excess, and the fear of being dropped from the Navy Register, that had caused the wreck of Cantor's mind. He is now properly confined in an asylum.

Mrs. Black had not left Vera Cruz, but still lingered on one of the refugee ships in the harbor, where the Denmans found her.

Mrs. Black was a widow who devoted her time and her wealth to missionary work in Mexico. Dave learned to his surprise that she was the daughter of Jason Denman, and a sister of the girl whom Dave had served so signally in New York.

Mr. Denman, who was a wealthy resident of an Ohio town, had extensive mining interests in Mexico, and had gone there to look after them, leaving Miss Denman and her mother in New York. Cantor, who had first met the Denmans in Ohio, when on recruiting duty in that state, had planned to make Miss Denman his wife for purely mercenary reasons. He had struggled to overcome his gaming mania, and had planned that once Miss Denman became his wife her money should be used to pay his gaming debts and free him from the claims of the vice.

But Mr. Denman, with the insight of a wise man, had discouraged the suit.

In New York, before the "Long Island" had sailed, Cantor had met young Tom Denman in a gambling resort. Plying the young man with liquor, Cantor had persuaded the young man, when unconscious of what he was doing, to forge a banker's name to two checks, which Cantor had persuaded an acquaintance of his to cash. Of course the checks had been refused payment at the bank, but the man who had cashed them had disappeared.

Cantor had offered to save young Tom Denman. Without involving himself Cantor could have testified that the young man was all but unconscious, and without knowledge of his act, when he "forged" the cheeks.

The bank that had been deceived into cashing the checks before they were forwarded to the bank upon which they were drawn, had located Tom Denman easily enough. Tom would have been arrested, but Mrs. Denman promptly applied to a great detective agency, which quickly established the young man's mental condition at the of "forging" the checks. Moreover, Mrs. Denman, after cabling her husband for authority to use his funds, had made good the loss to the bank. Then mother, daughter and son had journeyed hastily to Vera Cruz, that the boy might be under his father's eye.

That one lesson was enough for Tom Denman. He has never strayed since.

As to the theft of his landing plan, Captain Gales afterward explained to several of his officers that no such theft had ever taken place.

"You recall, gentlemen," the captain explained, "that I referred to the envelope which had contained the plans. And I then stated that the envelope which had contained the plans had disappeared. You will also remember, perhaps that I didn't state that the plans themselves were gone, for they rested in my safe, and are there at this moment. Acting that afternoon on an impulse that I did not very well understand, I took the landing plans from their envelope and filled the envelope with blank paper after having put the plans in the safe.

"Cantor had knowledge of the envelope, and supposed, as any one would have done, that the plans were inside. When my back was turned for an instant Cantor took the envelope, which I did not immediately miss, as I had no idea that any of my officers was untrustworthy. Cantor hurried to his own quarters, and there discovered the blank paper substitution. Furious, yet hating Darrin for reasons which you now understand, Cantor hastened to Darrin's room and slipped the envelope in under Darrin's mattress.

Cantor has admitted it to me—whatever the word of an adjudged lunatic may be worth poor fellow!

"Now, as to Cantor's need of money, he was overwhelmed with gambling debts in New York. Some wild fancy told him that he could win money enough in Vera Cruz to pay his debts at home. He secured leave and went ashore. In a gaming house there he lost all his money, but still fought on against the game when he found that his signature would be accepted. He plunged heavily, soon rising from the table owing thirty thousand dollars to the house. Then Cosetta, who was a silent partner of the house, noting the lieutenant's despair, led him aside and cunningly informed him that he could have all his notes back if he could only secure the authoritative plans of the American landing. Cosetta, who had been a bandit for many years, and who feared the time would come when his appearance in Vera Cruz would be followed by arrest and execution, wanted to turn the landing plans over to General Maas, the Mexican commander here. Imagine the temptation to Cantor when he thought he had the plans in his own hands!

"Cantor afterwards secured my permission to go ashore in civilian garb, on the plea that he had urgent private business. As the landing had been made, I permitted him to go. I have since discovered that Cantor had word of the Denmans being in Vera Cruz. Cosetta found the family for him, and Cantor made one last, desperate plea for Miss Denman's hand. He was obliged to urge his suit through the open window of the house. Then, when Mr. Denman sternly refused to listen to him, Cosetta tried to kill Mr. Denman and his son, intending to abduct Miss Denman and to force her to marry Cantor.

"Cosetta died this morning. He had hoped to become at least a colonel in Huerta's army. Cantor did not know Cosetta until that chance meeting took place in the gambling house."

A week later, Dave Darrin, his wound now almost healed, stood on the bridge of the "Long Island," Danny Grin at his side.

They had just watched the landing of the last boatloads of General Funston's regulars.

"I believe that winds up the Navy's chapter at Vera Cruz, Danny," said Ensign Darrin. "The rest of it, if there is going to be any 'rest,' will belong to the Army."

"We had an interesting time while it lasted," declared Dalzell, with a broad grin.

"There is a world full of interesting times ahead of us. We'll find time in every quarter of the globe. Isn't that so, Gunner's Mate Riley?" he demanded of the former coxswain, who, promoted that day, now stepped upon the bridge saluting, to show proudly on his sleeve the badge of his new rating.

Whether Darrin's prediction was realized will be discovered in the pages of the next volume of this series, which will be published shortly under the title, "Dave Darrin on Mediterranean Service; Or, With Dan Dalzell on European Duty."

In this forthcoming volume we shall encounter an amazing tale of an American naval officer's life and duties abroad, and we are likely, too, to hear from Lieutenant Trent and other good fellows from the ward-rooms and from the forecastles of our splendid Navy.

THE END

Dave Darrin on Mediterranean Service

or

With Dan Dalzell on European Duty

"Dave caught at the knife-wrist."

Frontispiece

Contents

I. Green Hat, the Trouble-Starter

II. Dan's Thirty-Three Dollar Guess

III. The Startler at Monte Carlo

IV. Mr. Green Hat's New Rôle

V. Danny Grin Fights a Smile

VI. Dave Runs Into a Real Thrill

VII. The Admiral Unloads His Mind

VIII. On Lively Special Duty

IX. M. Dalny Plans a Tragedy

X. Treachery Has the Floor

XI. Hemmed In by the Bravos

XII. Evil Eyes On SAilorman Runkle

XIII. Orders Change in a Minute

XIV. Dan Has Very "Cold Feet"

XV. At the American Embassy

XVI. "Seeing" the Paris Apaches

XVII. Dave's Guess at the Big Plot

XVIII. Surigny's Next Move

XIX. Truth, Or French Romance

XX. The Allies Clear For Action

XXI. Making Stern Work of It

XXII. After the Pest of the Seas

XXIII. The Puzzle of the Deep

XXIV. Conclusion

I. Green Hat, the Trouble-Starter

"Dan," whispered Dave Darrin, Ensign, United States Navy, to his chum and brother officer, "do you see that fellow with the green Alpine hat and the green vest?"

"Yes," nodded Dan Dalzell.

"Watch him."

"Why?"

"He's a powerful brute, and it looks as though he's spoiling for a fight."

"You are not going to oblige him, are you?" asked Dalzell in a whisper, betraying surprise.

"Nothing like it," Darrin responded disgustedly. "Danny Grin, don't you credit me with more sense than that? Do you imagine I'd engage in a fight in a place like this?"

"Then why are you interested in what the fellow might do?" demanded Ensign Dan.

"Because I think there is going to be a lively time here. That fellow under the Alpine hat is equal to at least four of these spindling Spanish waiters. There is going to be trouble within four minutes, or I'm a poor guesser."

"Just let Mr. Green Hat start something," chuckled Ensign Dalzell in an undertone. "There are plenty of stalwart British soldiers here, and 'Tommy Atkins' never has been known to be averse to a good fair fight. The soldiers will wipe up the floor with him. Then there is the provost guard, patrolling the streets of Gibraltar. If Mr. Green Hat grows too noisy the provost guard will gather him in."

"And might also gather us in, if the provost officer thought us intelligent witnesses," muttered Darrin.

"That would be all right, too," grinned Dan. "There is bound to be a British army officer in command of the provost guard. As soon as we handed him cards showing us to be American naval officers he'd raise his cap to us, and that would be the end of it."

"I don't like to be present at rows in a place of this kind," Ensign Darrin insisted.

"Then we'd better be going," proposed Ensign Dalzell.

The place was Gibraltar, and the time nine o'clock in the evening. The two friends were seated well back in one of the several Spanish vaudeville theatres that flourish more or less in the city on the Great Rock, even in such times as this period of the great European War.

The theatre was not a low place, or it would not have been permitted to exist in Gibraltar, which, even in peace times, is under the strictest military rule, made much more strict at the beginning of the great war. The performance was an ordinary one and rather dull. At the moment three Spanish women occupied the stage, going rather hopelessly through the steps of an aimless dance, while three musicians ground out the music for the dancers. The next number, as announced on a card that hung at one side of the stage, was to be a pantomime.

One particularly unpleasant feature only was to be noted in the place. Wines and liquors were served to those who chose to order them, Spanish waiters passing up and down the aisles in search of custom.

Mr. Green Hat, to the knowledge of Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell, had been a much too frequent customer. He was now arguing with two waiters about an alleged mistake in the changing of the money he had handed one of them. From angry remonstrance Mr. Green Hat was now resorting to abusive language.

"I'd like to implant a wallop under that rowdy's chin," muttered Dan Dalzell, as he started to rise.

"Don't try it," warned Ensign Dave, as he, too, rose.

Just then the lightning struck; the storm broke.

With an angry bellow, Mr. Green Hat leaped to his feet, knocking down one of the waiters. Four others rushed to the spot. The five promptly assailed Mr. Green Hat, and were swiftly reinforced by the one who had been floored.

But the stalwart, active brawler proved to be too much for the combined force of the waiters. As if they had been so many reeds, Mr. Green Hat brushed them aside with his fists.

"Grab the bloomin' rotter and throw 'im h'out!" bellowed a "Tommy Atkins," as the British soldier is collectively known.

A new note, in a decidedly American tone of protest, rose above the uproar.

"How dare you? What do you mean, fellow?" demanded a young man in a gray traveling suit, glaring up from the floor, to which he, an unoffending occupant of an aisle seat, had suddenly been hurled.

It was too much for Dan Dalzell, who promptly attempted to seize Mr. Green Hat as that individual, with the momentum of a steam roller, rushed up the aisle.

Dalzell reached out a hand to grip Mr. Green Hat by the collar. All too promptly a heavy fist smote Dan in the chest, knocking him back into the arms of Dave Darrin. Dave himself could not act quickly enough to avenge the blow that had been dealt his chum, because Dan's body blocked the way.

Four or five British soldiers at the rear of the little theatre tried to intercept Mr. Green Hat as he dashed up the aisle. Three of the "Messrs. Atkins" went to the floor, under the seats, while the others were brushed aside, and Mr. Green Hat reached the street.

"Stop that thief!" roared the young man in the gray suit. "He has robbed me!"

By this time Dalzell was again on his feet and out in the aisle. He sprinted for the street, followed closely by Dave Darrin. The young man in the gray suit, his face pallid, plunged after the young naval officers.

"You're an American, aren't you?" called Dave, over his shoulder.

"Yes," answered he of the gray suit, "and in official life at Washington, too. That scoundrel has robbed me of something of value to the United States government."

That was enough for Darrin and Dalzell. Though the charge might prove to be false, it was enough to cancel Dave's scruples against fighting.

Out into the street ahead of them ran a waiter, who had taken no part in the scrimmage, waving his arms and shouting:

"Esta dirección!" ("This way!")

"Sigue andando!" ("Keep right on!") roared Danny Grin, darting down the street at a hard pace.

But a moment later both naval officers, followed by the young man in gray and the waiter, came to a halt, for, directly ahead of them, on the well-lighted street, suddenly appeared a patrol detachment of the British provost guard.

"Did you stop the fellow who ran this way, sir?" hailed Ensign Darrin, as he recognized the uniform of the British infantry officer in command of the detachment.

"We didn't see any man running this way," replied the British lieutenant, smartly returning the salute that Ensign Darrin had given him.

"Didn't see any fellow running?" repeated three Americans, in tones of bewilderment.

"We were chasing a thief, sir," Darrin continued, "and this waiter told us that the fugitive ran this way."

"I—I thought he did," stammered the waiter in Spanish, though it was now plain that he understood English.

In deep disgust and with dawning suspicion, Dave Darrin glared at the waiter until that fellow changed color and trembled slightly. Dave was now certain that the waiter, probably by previous arrangement, had shielded the escape of Mr. Green Hat.

Turning to the English officer, Dave quickly recounted what had happened. At the same time he introduced himself and Dan as American naval officers, and both tendered their cards.

"And you, sir? Who are you, and what did you lose?" inquired the British officer, turning to the young man in the gray suit.

"May I answer that question to an officer of my own country?" appealed the young man in the gray suit.

"Yes," assented the British officer, after keenly regarding the stranger who claimed to have been robbed.

"Will you step a few yards down the street with me?" urged the unknown American, addressing Dave.

"Certainly," Darrin nodded, for he saw insistent appeal in the stranger's gaze.

"Mr. Darrin," began the stranger, using the name he had heard Dave announce in the introductions to the Britisher, "do you really belong to the American Navy?"

"I do, indeed," Darrin answered. "I am attached to the battleship 'Hudson,' now lying in this harbor."

"Then I will introduce myself," continued the young man in the gray suit. "My name is George Cushing. Do you recognize the meaning of this?"

"This" proved to be a small gold badge, revealed by Cushing as he turned back the lapel of his coat. It was a badge worn by men belonging to a special branch of the secret service of the American Department of State. The members of this special service are usually found, if found at all, on duty in foreign countries.

"I know the badge, Mr. Cushing," nodded Dave Darrin. "Now, what have you to tell me?"

"That big man with the green hat must have started that fight with the waiters in the theatre to cover his intended attack on me," Cushing replied. "At the moment of knocking me down, he snatched from my coat pocket and made off with a most important document."

"Then you almost deserved to lose it, sir," replied Darrin sternly, "as a punishment for wasting your time in such a place as that theatre."

"I must see the American admiral as soon as possible," urged Cushing, ignoring Darrin's reproof. "But first of all, I must ask you to pass me safely by that provost guard, or I might be detained at a time when I cannot afford to lose a single instant. You will vouch for me, won't you, Mr. Darrin? Here are my formal credentials," continued Cushing, producing and unfolding a wallet that contained properly sealed and signed credentials from the American Department of State.

"The paper that was stolen from you did not in any way relate to the defenses and fortifications here at Gibraltar, did it?" Dave asked.

"Not in the least," Cushing replied promptly.

"You give me your word of honor for that?" Dave asked bluntly.

"Do you believe I'd waste my time on such rubbish as that?" demanded Cushing, scornfully. "Why, every civilized government on earth possesses accurate plans of the fortifications at Gibraltar! I give you my word of honor, Mr. Darrin, that the paper stolen from me did not in any way relate to the Gibraltar fortifications."

"Then I'll do my best to get you by the provost guard," Ensign Darrin promised, turning to lead the way back.

"Sir," Dave announced to Lieutenant Abercrombie, commanding the provost guard detachment, "I beg to report, on what I regard as the best of authority, that there is no reason why my countryman, Mr. Cushing, should be detained by you."

"Then that of which he claims to have been robbed is nothing that could officially interest me?" pressed the British officer.

"I am certain that the matter could not interest a British officer, except in his desire to see a thief caught," Ensign Darrin vouched.

"That is all, then," replied Lieutenant Abercrombie. "Gentlemen, you are at liberty to proceed on your way."

In the meantime the Spanish waiter had slipped back to the theatre.

Dave and Dan saluted, the Englishman doing the same. Then Lieutenant Abercrombie gave each of these brothers in arms a hearty handclasp. The men of the provost guard parted to allow the three Americans to pass on their way.

"And now where do you wish to go, Mr. Cushing?" Dave inquired, after they had passed the British provost guard.

"I suppose you expect me to search for the thief," rejoined the man from the State Department. "But that would now be worse than a waste of time. Gibraltar, quaint Moorish city that it is, is so full of holes in the wall that it would be impossible to find the thief, for he will not venture out again to-night. The best thing I can do will be to go straight to the American admiral, and you gentlemen, I imagine, can take me there."

"A launch will put off from the mole for the flagship at ten o'clock," Dave informed him. "We may as well go down to the mole and wait."

Twice, on the way, after leaving the more crowded parts of the city behind, the three were challenged by English sentries invisible in the darkness.

"Who goes there?" came the sentry's hail in each instance.

"Officers from the American flagship," Darrin answered for the party.

"Pass on, gentlemen," came the response out of the darkness.

At all times strict watch over all comers outside the British army service is kept at Gibraltar, and after dark this vigilance is doubled.

"On a moonless night like this, one would imagine that Gibraltar, save for the few blocks of 'city,' held few human beings," murmured Dan, as the three continued on at a quiet walk toward the water front. "One gets the impression that there are but a few sentries, sprinkled here and there, yet we know there are thousands of British soldiers scattered over this rock."

"Hardly scattered," smiled Dave Darrin. "Except for the guard, men and officers are alike in barracks, and many of the barracks are at rather long distances from the fortifications."

Nor are the fortifications to be found along the water front. Back on the great hill of rock are gun embrasures, often cut into the face of the rock itself. Back of the embrasures are galleries cut through the stone, and here, in time of siege, the soldiers would stand behind the huge guns.

Gibraltar's harbor is small, though large enough to hold a great fleet. In the days when cannon had shorter range than now, a British fleet might have hidden in the harbor and been secure against all the fleets of the world, for the guns of the huge fortress could have sunk the combined navies of the world, had they attempted to enter the harbor. In these modern days Gibraltar is not so secure, for the heights of Algeciras, in Spain, are only about seven miles away. If Spain were at war with Great Britain, or if any other power took the heights of Algeciras from Spain, guns could be mounted on those heights that would dominate the harbor of Gibraltar. None the less, as long as war exists and the huge stone height of Gibraltar remains, the impression of strong military force will abide with the rock.

Down at the mole a British sentry stopped the trio. Near him stood a corporal and three other soldiers.

"American officers and a friend," replied Ensign Darrin, when halted by this sentry. Then the trio advanced when ordered. Lieutenant Totten, from the 'Hudson,' stepped forward, peered at Darrin and Dalzell, and said to the corporal:

"I recognize these gentlemen as officers of ours."

"And the friend?" inquired the corporal.

"The friend is an American citizen who has business with Admiral Timworth," Dave stated.

"Then it is all right," Lieutenant Totten assured the corporal.

Whereupon the British corporal permitted Cushing to step out on the mole with his companions, Darrin and Dalzell.

"Which is the flagship launch?" asked Darrin.

"The rearmost," answered Lieutenant Totten. "Ours is the only launch here. The two other launches belong to the warships of other powers."

Cushing, while this brief conversation was going on, had walked rapidly along the mole until he reached the farthest launch.

"I want you!" he shouted, bending over suddenly.

He had found and seized by the coat collar the man with the green hat.

Dave and Dan rushed to the spot, hardly knowing what they could do, as they did not want to see the representative of the American State Department lack for backing.

"Pull Cushing away from that fellow," ordered Totten.

"Is that an official order?" Dave flashed back, in a whisper.

"It is," nodded Totten, and faded back into the blackness of the night.

Dave bounded forward. He saw that the launch was one belonging to some liner or merchant ship in the harbor. Three or four men belonging in that launch had leaped to the rescue of Mr. Green Hat. Dave, with one tug, tore Cushing away.

Mr. Green Hat fell back in the launch. Two sailors belonging to that craft cast off the lines at bow and stern, and the launch glided out into the harbor.

"Why didn't you help me, instead of putting the double cross on me?" Cushing demanded, angrily.

"I had my reasons," Ensign Darrin replied, briefly.

"They must have been good ones," muttered Cushing.

"All aboard for the flagship!" announced Lieutenant Totten, in a quiet tone.

"Come along, if you're going out with us," Darrin urged Cushing.

The passengers for the flagship launch were speedily aboard. Other officers were there who had been ashore for the evening.

As the launch was cast off she glided almost noiselessly across the smooth water of the harbor, followed closely by the shifting rays of a British searchlight on shore. Ever since the great European war had started searchlights stationed on shore had followed the movements of every craft in the harbor at night. Beyond, the flagship's few lights glowed brightly. In a few minutes the party was alongside.

Dave and Dan, after saluting the officer of the deck, and reporting their presence on board, went at once to Dave's quarters.

"There was a good deal of a mix-up, somewhere," Dan announced, at once. "Why should Totten order you to drag Cushing away from Mr. Green Hat, when that rascal had robbed Cushing of valuable government papers?"

"It's too big a puzzle for me," Ensign Darrin admitted, promptly. "But Lieutenant Totten is my superior officer, and the responsibility belongs to him."

For a few minutes the two chums chatted. Dalzell was about to say good night and go to his own quarters, when an orderly rapped at the door, then entered, saluting.

"The admiral's compliments, gentlemen," said the messenger. "The admiral wishes to see Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell at once."

"Our compliments, and we will report at once," Dave answered. Both young officers were now in uniform, for Dan had left his in Dave's quarters before going ashore, and the chums had changed their clothes while chatting. It now remained only for Dave to reach for his sword and fasten it on, then draw on white gloves, while Dalzell went to his quarters, next door, and did the same.

"What can be in the wind?" whispered Dan. "This is the first time that Admiral Timworth has ever expressed any desire to see us. Can it be that we bungled in some way with the Cushing business?"

"I'm not going to waste any time in guessing," replied Ensign Darrin, as they stepped briskly along, "when I'm going to have the answer presented to me so soon."

Then they halted before the entrance to the admiral's quarters, to learn if it would be agreeable for the admiral to receive them at once.

II. Dan's Thirty-Three Dollar Guess

As the two young officers entered the admiral's quarters the curtains were closed behind them by the marine orderly.

Admiral Timworth was seated at his desk. Beside him was Captain Allen, commanding officer of the battleship "Hudson," flagship of the Mediterranean Squadron.

Lieutenant Totten and Cushing were also present.

"Good evening, gentlemen," was Admiral Timworth's greeting, after salutes had been exchanged. "Accidentally, you became spectators this evening, at a little drama connected with both the diplomatic and the secret service of your country."

The admiral paused, but both young officers remained respectfully at attention, making no response, as none was needed.

"You are aware," continued the admiral, "that Mr. Cushing was knocked down and robbed of an important government paper. Now, it happens that this paper was the key to a code employed by the State and Navy Departments in communicating with naval commanders abroad."

This time Dave actually started. The loss of such a code would be vitally important. The State and Navy Departments almost invariably communicate with naval commanders by means of a secret code, which can be read only by commanders possessing the key. Thus, when cablegrams are sent from stations in foreign countries, their import can be understood only by the officers to whom the communications are addressed.

"That strikes you as a most serious loss, does it not?" asked Admiral Timworth, smiling.

"Why, yes, sir; so it would seem," Dave answered, bowing.

"The code that was stolen to-night," laughed the admiral, "will be of but little value to the government into whose hands it may fall. The code in question was one that was used in the year 1880, and has not been employed since. Nor is it likely ever to be employed again."

Captain Allen joined in the admiral's laugh.

"We had every reason," continued the admiral, "to believe that an attempt would be made to steal that code ere Mr. Cushing delivered it to me. In fact, our government allowed it to be rather widely known that Mr. Cushing had left Washington to turn over to me a code. So, of course, Mr. Cushing has been followed. As a matter of fact, the code that we have been using for the last six months has not been changed. I was delighted when I learned that Cushing had been assaulted and robbed. Mr. Cushing himself took the loss seriously, for he did not know, until he came aboard a few moments ago, that the United States government had hoped he would be robbed. Lieutenant Totten was sent ashore, ostensibly to look after the launch, but in reality, to learn, if possible, whether Cushing's assailant put off in the launch of another power, and if so, which power. Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell, you noted, did you not, the nationality of the launch in which Mr. Cushing's assailant escaped?"

"I did not, sir," Dave replied. "It was not a naval launch, and therefore did not belong to any ships belonging to the Entente Allies' naval vessels in port here."

"Then, gentlemen," continued Admiral Timworth, his voice in tones of formal command, "you will not at any time mention this matter to any one unless so directed by me. I have had just one object in sending for you and giving you this order. For some time our Government has known that secret efforts are being made to discredit us with the allied powers of Europe. I feel rather certain that this fleet, while in the Mediterranean, will be closely watched by plotters serving one of the Central European powers, or else acting on their own account in the hope of being able to succeed and then claim reward from that government. Keep your eyes open. You may meet other spies and have reason to suspect them to be such. Do not be fooled by the apparent nationality of any man's name. A spy uses many names in his course around the world. Few international spies ever use their own names. The man in the green hat, who assaulted Mr. Cushing to-night, is one of the cleverest of his kind, and perhaps the most able with whom we shall have to contend. The fellow's name is supposed to be Emil Gortchky. At one time or another he has served as spy for nearly every government in Europe. He is a daring, dangerous, and wholly unscrupulous fellow. Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell, I sent for you in order to tell you these things, and to add that if, during this cruise, you run across the fellow at any point, you are to report the fact to me promptly. Of course you will understand that the seal of official secrecy attaches to all that I have said. That is all, gentlemen. Good evening."

Saluting, Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell promptly withdrew. They were still a good deal puzzled.

"I'll come to your quarters in a minute, if I may," murmured Danny Grin, as he reached the door of his own cabin.

"I want you to come," Dave answered dryly.

So, in another minute, Dan Dalzell, minus sword and gloves, bobbed into Dave's room.

"Now, what do you make out of all we have heard and seen?" breathed Dalzell tensely.

"Just what the admiral told us," answered Darrin.

"Nothing more?" pressed Dan.

Dave was thoughtful for a few moments before he replied:

"Danny, boy, we have our orders from the commander of the fleet. If we encounter Mr. Green Hat anywhere in the future, we are to report the fact. That is the extent of our instructions, and I think we shall do very well not to think too much about the matter, but to be ready, at all times, to follow our orders."

"I was in hope that you could evolve something more romantic than that," returned Dalzell disappointedly.

"It is very likely," went on Dave judicially, "that we have already had as large a hand in the affair as we are going to have. I doubt if we shall hear anything more of Mr. Green Hat; even if we hear of his further deeds, we are not likely to have any personal part in them."

"I'm disappointed," Dan admitted, rising. "I'm going to bed now, for I have to be up at half-past three, to turn out on watch at eight bells. You, lucky dog, have no watch to stand until after breakfast. Good night, Dave!"

"Good night; and don't dream of Mr. Green Hat," smiled Darrin. "You'll never see him again."

In that prediction Ensign Darrin was destined to find himself fearfully wide of the mark. Mr. Green Hat was not to be so easily dropped from the future calculations of the youngest naval officers on the "Hudson."

None of our readers require any introduction to Dave Darrin and Dan Dalzell, ofttimes known as "Danny Grin." These two fast friends in the naval service were members of "Dick & Co.," a famous sextette of schoolboys in Gridley. Dick Prescott, Greg Holmes, Dave Darrin, Dan Dalzell, Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton first appeared in the pages of "The Grammar School Boys Series," in which volumes were described the early lives of these young American schoolboys.

We found the six boys again in the pages of the "High School Boys Series," in the volumes of which the athletic triumphs of Dick & Co. were vividly set forth. In the "High School Boys' Vacation Series" were recounted their further adventures.

At the conclusion of their high school careers the six chums separated to seek different fields of endeavor. Dick Prescott and Greg Holmes secured appointments as cadets at the United States Military Academy at West Point, as narrated in the "West Point Series." Dave Darrin and Dan Dalzell were nominated as midshipmen to the United States Naval Academy at Annapolis, and all that befell them there is set forth in the "Annapolis Series." The great things that happened to Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton are told in the volumes of the "Young Engineers Series." Dick Prescott's and Greg Holmes' adventures in the Army, after graduation from West Point, are set forth in the volumes of the "Boys of the Army Series."

The "Dave Darrin Series" is devoted to the lives of Dave Darrin and Dan Dalzell as naval officers, after their graduation from the Naval Academy. We now find them serving as ensigns, this being the lowest rank among commissioned officers of the United States Navy.

The first volume of this series, published under the title, "Dave Darrin at Vera Cruz," tells the story of Dave's and Dan's initial active service in the United States Navy. That our two young ensigns took an exciting part in the fighting there is known to all our readers.

For some time after the taking of Vera Cruz by the United States forces and the arrival of Regular Army regiments, Dave and Dan continued to serve with constant credit aboard the "Long Island," stationed at Vera Cruz. Then followed their detachment from the "Long Island," and their return to the United States. They were then ordered to duty with the Mediterranean Squadron, aboard the flagship "Hudson." We already know what befell them on their arrival at their first port of call, the British fortress of Gibraltar, and in the quaint old Moorish city of the same name, which stands between the fortress and the harbor.

Dan soon took his leave of his chum, going to his own quarters for a short sleep before going on duty at eight bells in the morning. Dave, having opportunity to sleep until shortly before breakfast, sat for some minutes pondering over his strange meeting with Mr. Green Hat, whom he now knew as Emil Gortchky, a notorious international spy.

Still puzzling, Darrin turned out the light and dropped into his berth. Once there the habit of the service came strongly upon him. He was between the sheets to sleep, so, with a final sigh, he shut out thoughts of Mr. Green Hat, of the admiral's remarks, and of the whole train of events of the evening. Within a hundred and twenty seconds he was sound asleep. It was an orderly going the rounds in the early morning who spoke to Ensign Darrin and awakened him.

"Is the ship under way?" asked Dave, rolling over and opening his eyes.

"Aye, aye, sir," responded the orderly, who then wheeled and departed.

Dave was quickly out of his berth, and dressed in time to join the gathering throng of the "Hudson's" officers in the ward-room, where every officer, except the captain, takes his meals.

"Have you heard the port for which we're bound, Danny?" Darrin asked his chum.

"Not a word," replied Dalzell, shaking his head.

"Perhaps we shall find out at breakfast," commented Dave.

A minute later the signal came for the officers to seat themselves. Then, after orders had been given to the attentive Filipino boys, who served as mess attendants, a buzz of conversation ran around the table.

Soon the heavy, booming voice of Lieutenant Commander Metson was heard as he asked Commander Dawson, the executive officer:

"Sir, are we privileged to ask our port of destination?"

This is a question often put to the executive officer of a war vessel, for ninety-nine times out of a hundred he knows the answer. He may smile and reply:

"I do not know."

Sometimes the executive officer, who is the captain's confidential man, has good reasons for not divulging the destination of the ship. In that case his denial of knowledge is understood to be only a courteous statement that he does not deem it discreet to name the port of destination.

But in this instance Commander Dawson smiled and replied:

"I will not make any secret of our destination so far as I know it. We are bound for some port on the Riviera. It may be Nice, or perhaps Monte Carlo. I am informed that the admiral has not yet decided definitely. I shall be quite ready to tell you, Mr. Metson, as soon as I know."

"Thank you, sir," courteously acknowledged the lieutenant commander.

During this interval the buzz of conversation had died down. It soon began again.

"The Riviera!" exclaimed Ensign Dalzell jubilantly, though in a low tone intended mainly for his chum's ear. "I have always wanted to see that busy little strip of beach."

The Riviera, as will be seen by reference to a map of Southern Europe, is a narrow strip of land, between the mountains and the sea, running around the Gulf of Genoa. One of the most important watering places on this long strip of beach is Nice, on French soil, where multitudes of health and pleasure seekers flock annually. The mild, nearly tropical climate of this place in winter makes Nice one of the most attractive resorts along the Riviera. Only a few miles distant from Nice is the principality of Monte Carlo, an independent state under a prince who is absolute ruler of his tiny country. Monaco is but two and a quarter miles long, while its width varies from a hundred and sixty-five yards to eleven hundred yards. Yet this "toy country" is large enough to contain three towns of fair size. The most noted town, Monte Carlo, stands mainly on a cliff, and is the location of the most notorious gambling resort in the world, the "Casino."

"I wonder," suggested one of the younger officers, in a rumbling voice, "if our Government feels that we officers have more money than we need, and so is sending us to a place where we can get rid of it by gambling. What do you say, Darrin?"

"Monte Carlo is one of the noted spots of the world," Dave responded slowly, "and I shall be glad to see a place of which I have heard and read so much. But I shall not gamble at Monte Carlo. I can make better use of my money and of my character."

"Bravo!" agreed Totten.

"How long is that strip of beach, the Riviera?" asked one officer of Lieutenant Commander Wales, the navigating officer.

"From Nice to Genoa, which is what is commonly understood as the real Riviera," replied the navigating officer; "the distance is one hundred and sixteen miles. But, beyond Genoa, on the other side, the beach continues for fifty-six miles to Spezia. On the strip from Genoa to Spezia the shore is so rocky that it has been found necessary to construct eighty-odd tunnels through the headlands for the railway that runs the whole length of the Riviera."

Most of the talk, during that breakfast hour, was about the Riviera, and much of that had to do with Monte Carlo.

"For years I've wanted very particularly to see that town of Monte Carlo," Danny Grin confessed.

"Not to gamble, I hope," replied Dave.

"Millions for sight-seeing, but not a cent for gambling," Dalzell paraphrased lightly.

"Gentlemen," warned Mr. Wales, "don't be too certain that you'll see Monte Carlo on this cruise. Often the weather is too rough for a landing in that vicinity."

"And in that case?" queried Lieutenant Totten.

"In that case," replied Wales, "the usual rule is for the ship to go on to anchorage in the harbor at Genoa."

"Any one know whether the barometer is talking about a storm?" Dalzell asked.

"That's a foolish question," remarked Lieutenant Barnes grouchily.

"Hello!" said Danny Grin, turning half around and eyeing the last speaker. "You here?"

"As usual," nodded Barnes gruffly.

"What was that you said about a foolish question?" demanded Dan.

"I was referring to your habit of asking foolish questions," retorted Barnes.

"Do I ask any more of them than you do?" Dalzell retorted, a bit gruffly.

"You do," Barnes declared, "and that's one of them."

"If I thought I asked more foolish questions than you do, sir," Dan rejoined, laying down his coffee cup, "I'd—"

Here Dalzell paused.

"What would you do?" Barnes insisted.

"On second thought," Dan went on gravely, "I don't believe I'll tell you. It was something desperate that I was thinking of."

"Then drop the idea, Dalzell," scoffed Lieutenant Barnes lightly. "You're hardly the fellow we'd look to for desperate deeds."

"Oh, am I not?" demanded Dan, for once a bit miffed.

Several of the officers glanced up apprehensively. From necessity, life in the ward-room is an oppressively close one at best. A feud between two officers of the mess is enough to make all hands uncomfortable much of the time.

"Cut it, Barnes," ordered the officer sitting on the right-hand side of Lieutenant Barnes. "Don't start any argument."

"Gentlemen," broke in the paymaster, anxious to change the topic of conversation, "have you gone so far with your meal that a little bad news won't spoil your appetites?"

Most of those present nodded, smilingly.

"Then," continued the paymaster, "I wish to bring up a matter that has been discussed here before. You all know that in some way, owing to the carelessness of some one, there is an unexplained shortage of thirty-three dollars in our mess-fund. You appointed Totten and myself a committee to look into the matter. We now beg to report that the thirty-three dollars cannot be accounted for. What is your pleasure in the matter?"

"I would call it very simple," replied Lieutenant Commander Wales. "Why not levy an assessment upon the members of this mess sufficient to make up the thirty-three dollars? It will amount to very little apiece."

That way of remedying the shortage would have been agreed to promptly, had not Lieutenant Barnes cut in eagerly:

"I've a better plan for making up the shortage. One man can pay it all, as a penalty, and there will be a lot of fun in deciding which member has to pay the penalty."

"What's the idea, Mr. Barnes?" asked the executive officer.

"It's simple enough," Barnes went on, grinning. "Let us set apart the dinner hour on Tuesday evening, say. Every time this mess gets together we hear a lot of foolish questions asked. Now, on Tuesday evening, if any member of this mess asks a question that he can't answer himself, let it be agreed that he pay into the mess a fine of thirty-three dollars to cover the shortage."

"It won't work," objected Totten. "Every officer at this table will be on his guard not to ask any questions at all."

"In that case," proposed Barnes, "let the rule hold over on each successive Tuesday evening until the victim is found and has paid his fine."

"It sounds like sport," agreed Dave Darrin.

"It will be sport to see the victim 'stung' and made to pay up," grinned Dan Dalzell.

"And I think I know, already," contended Lieutenant Barnes, "which officer will pay that shortage."

"Are you looking at me with any particular significance?" demanded Danny Grin.

"I am," Barnes admitted.

"Oh, well, then, we shall see what we shall see," quoth Dalzell, his color rising.

The scheme for fixing the thirty-three-dollar penalty was quickly agreed upon. In fact, the plan had in it many of the exciting elements of a challenge.

Darrin left the mess to go on duty. Dan found him presently.

"Say," murmured Danny Grin, in an aside, "do you think Barnes will be very angry when he pays over that thirty-three dollars?"

"I haven't yet heard that he is to pay it," Dave answered quietly.

"But he is," Dalzell asserted.

"How's that?"

"I'm going to make it my business," Dan went on, "to see that Barnes is the victim of the very scheme that he proposed. He will ask a question that he can't answer, and he'll do it when Tuesday evening comes around."

"Don't be too sure of that," Dave warned him. "Barnes may not be exactly the most amiable officer aboard, but at least he's a very keen chap. If you are forming any plans for making Barnes pay, look out, Dan, that your scheme doesn't recoil upon yourself!"

"Wait and see," Dalzell insisted. "I tell you, Barnes is going to pay that thirty-three dollars into the mess treasury!"

III. The Startler at Monte Carlo

The frowning crags of Monaco confronted the United States battleship "Hudson."

Here and there the rocky eminences were broken by tiny strips of white beach. In comparison with the crags the great, floating fighting machine looked like a pigmy, indeed.

It was toward evening, and the day was Tuesday. Darrin and Dalzell, both off duty for the time being, strolled along the battleship's quarter-deck, gazing shoreward.

"It's almost too bad that the times are so civilized," murmured Danny Grin. "That little toy principality would make an ideal pirates' nest."

"I fancy Monaco has done duty enough in that line in the past centuries," smiled Darrin. "I have been reading up a bit on the history of Monaco. Piracy flourished here as late as the fourteenth century. Even rather late in the eighteenth century every ship passing close to this port had to pay toll. And to-day, through its vast gambling establishments, visited by thousands every week, Monaco reaches out and still takes its toll from all the world."

"It won't take any from me," smiled Dalzell.

"That is because you're a disciplined human being, and you've too much character and honesty to gamble," Darrin went on. "But think, with a pitying sigh, of the thousands of poor wretches who journey to Monaco, enter the Casino at Monte Carlo, part with their money and their honor, and then pass into one of the gardens, there to blow their brains out.

"We shall get a glimpse of the place to-night," Dave continued. "I will admit that I have a good deal of curiosity to see it. So I am glad that we have shore leave effective after dinner. Still, we shan't see anything like the crowd or the picture that we might see if Europe were at peace."

"This is Tuesday night," Dan warned his chum.

"Yes; the night to avoid dangerous questions at mess," Dave smiled. "Dan, are you still going to try to catch Barnes?"

"Watch me," winked Dalzell.

"Look out, Dan! Such a trap may be set at both ends."

But Dalzell winked once more, then allowed his mouth to expand in that contortion which had won him the nick name of "Danny Grin."

Dave soon forgot Dalzell's threat of trouble for the evening. It had passed out of his mind by the time that Ensign Darrin entered the ward-room. Yet soon after the officers had seated themselves the executive officer announced:

"In the interest of fair play to all I deem it best to warn you, gentlemen, that to-night is the night when the first gentleman who asks a question that he cannot himself answer is liable to a penalty of thirty-three dollars to make up the deficit in the mess treasury."

There were nods and grins, and shakings of heads. Not an officer present had any idea that he could be caught and made to pay the penalty.

As the meal progressed Lieutenant Commander Wales finally turned to one of the Filipino waiters and inquired:

"Is there any of the rare roast beef left?"

"Don't you know yourself, Wales?" demanded Totten quickly.

"Why, er—no-o," admitted Mr. Wales, looking much puzzled. "Why should I?"

"Then haven't you asked a question that you can't answer?" demanded Totten mischievously.

"That's hardly a fair catch, is it?" demanded the navigating officer, looking annoyed.

"It is not a fair catch," broke in the executive officer incisively. "Any gentleman here has a perfect right to ask the waiter questions about the food supply without taking chances of being subjected to a penalty."

"I bow to the decision, sir," replied Lieutenant Totten. "I merely wished to have the question settled."

Some of those present breathed more easily; others yet dreaded to become victims of a penalty proposition that many now regretted having voted for.

As the dessert came on Dan Dalzell turned to Dave.

"Darrin," he said, "can you tell me why it is that a woodchuck never leaves any dirt heaped up around the edge of his hole?"

Dave reflected, looking puzzled for a moment. Then he shook his head as he answered:

"Dalzell, I'm afraid I don't know why."

"Of course you know why, Dalzell," broke in Lieutenant Barnes warningly.

"Perhaps I do know," Dan replied, nodding his head slowly. "However, perhaps some other gentleman would like the chance of answering the question."

Instantly a dozen at least of the officers became interested in answering the question. To each reply or guess, however, Dalzell shook his head.

"If everyone who wants it has had a try at the answer," suggested the executive officer, "then we will call upon Mr. Dalzell to inform us why a woodchuck, in digging his hole, leaves no dirt piled up around the entrance."

There was silence while Dan replied easily:

"It's perfectly simple. Instead of beginning at the surface of the ground and digging downward, the woodchuck begins at the bottom of the hole and digs up toward the light and air."

As Dalzell offered this explanation he faced Lieutenant Barnes, who was eying him scoffingly.

When Dan had finished his explanation there was a puzzled silence for an instant. But Dan's half-leer irritated Lieutenant Barnes. Then came the explosion.

"Shaw!" snorted Barnes. "That's an explanation that doesn't explain anything. It's a fool answer. How does the woodchuck, if he digs up from the bottom of the hole, ever manage to get to the bottom of the hole to make his start there?"

"Oh, well," answered Dan slowly, "that's your question, Mr. Barnes."

"My question?" retorted the lieutenant. "What do you mean?"

"If I understand aright," Dan went on, "you asked how the woodchuck manages to get to the bottom of the hole before he begins to dig."

"That's right," nodded the lieutenant, stiffly.

"That's just the idea," Dan grinned. "I am calling upon you to answer the question that you just asked. You must tell us how the woodchuck manages to get to the bottom of the hole in order to start digging upward."

It required perhaps two seconds for the joke to dawn on the other officers at the long mess table. Then an explosion of laughter sounded, and every eye was turned toward Lieutenant Barnes.

"That isn't fair!" roared the lieutenant, leaping to his feet. "That was a trap! It wasn't a fair catch."

Barnes's face was very red. His voice quivered with indignation.

But Dan Dalzell was smiling coolly as he retorted:

"I'll leave it to the mess if Barnes hasn't asked a question that he can't answer."

"You're caught, Barnes!" roared half a dozen voices, and more laughter followed.

"You asked a question, Barnes, and you can't answer it," came from others.

"That thirty-three dollars will come in handy," called another.

"Pay up like a man, Barnes."

"That's right. Pay up! You're caught."

The lieutenant's face grew redder, but he sat down and tried to control his wrath.

"It doesn't seem like a fairly incurred penalty," declared Barnes, as soon as he could make himself heard, "but of course I'll abide by the decision of the mess."

"Then I move," suggested Wales, "that we leave the question to a committee of three to decide whether Mr. Barnes has been properly caught in the fine that he himself was the one to propose. For committee I would suggest the executive officer, the paymaster and the chaplain."

Informally that suggestion was quickly adopted. The three officers named withdrew to a corner of the ward-room, where they conversed in low tones, after which they returned to their seats.

"Gentlemen," announced the executive officer, "the committee has discussed the problem submitted to it, and the members of the committee are unanimously agreed that Mr. Barnes fairly and fully incurred the penalty that he himself suggested the other morning."

Barnes snorted, but was quick to recover sufficiently to bow in the direction of the executive officer.

"Then I accept the decision, sir," announced the lieutenant huskily. "At the close of the meal I will pay thirty-three dollars into the mess treasury."

Barnes tried to look comfortable, but he refused to glance in the direction of Danny Grin.

"Did I catch him?" whispered Dalzell to his chum.

"You did," Dave agreed quickly. "Barnes must feel pretty sore over the way his plan turned out."

There was much laughter during the rest of the meal, and Barnes had to stand for much chaffing, which he bore with a somewhat sullen look. As the officers rose none offered to leave the ward-room. All stood by waiting to see Barnes hand thirty-three dollars to the paymaster.

"Here is the money," announced Barnes, handing a little wad of bills to the paymaster.

"Count it, Pay!" piped a voice from the rear of the crowd, but it was not Dan who spoke.

Lieutenant Barnes had the grace to leave the ward-room without stamping, but in the nearest passageway he encountered Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell.

"I suppose you are chuckling over the way I dropped right into your trap," snapped Barnes to Dan. "But do you call it a fair kind of trap?"

"What was the committee's decision on the subject?" inquired Dan, softly.

"Oh, I'll admit that the decision went against me," answered the lieutenant, scowling. "How will you like it if I promise to pay you back fully for that trick? Are you willing that I should?"

"If your mind is set on paying me back," Danny Grin responded, "then my willingness would have very little to do with your conduct. But I am willing to make you a promise, sir."

"What is that?" asked the lieutenant, quite testily.

"If you attempt to pay me back, sir, and succeed, I'll agree to take my medicine with an appearance of greater good humor than you displayed a few minutes ago."

"Huh!" sniffed Mr. Barnes.

"Danny boy," broke in Dave, "I don't want to spoil a pleasant conversation, but I would like to remind you that, if we are to make much of our evening ashore, we shall do well to change to 'cits' at once. The launch leaves the side in fifteen minutes."

"You'll excuse me, won't you, sir?" begged Dalzell, favoring the lieutenant with an extremely pleasant smile.

The chums went to their respective cabins, where they quickly made the change from uniform to citizen's dress, commonly called "cits."

Promptly the launch left the "Hudson's" side, but both young ensigns were aboard. At least a dozen other officers and a score of seamen were also aboard the launch, which was to return for forty more seamen who held the coveted shore leave.

Yet the reader is not to suppose that either officers or men were going ashore with any notion of gambling. An American naval officer, with his status of "officer and gentleman," would risk a severe rebuke from his commanding officer if he were to seat himself to play in any gambling resort. As for the enlisted men, the "jackies," they are not of the same piece of cloth as the jovial, carousing seamen of the old-time Navy. The "jackies" of to-day are nearly all extremely youthful; they are clean-cut, able, ambitious young fellows, much more inclined to study than to waste their time in improper resorts.

So, while most of the officers and men now going ashore were likely to drop in at the Casino, for the sake of seeing the sights there, it was not in the least to be feared that any would engage in the gambling games.

When the launch landed in the little harbor, drivers of automobiles and carriages clamored for fares.

"Are we going to ride up to the Casino?" Dan asked his chum.

"If you'd rather," Dave assented. "But, unless you feel tired, let us stroll along and see every bit of the way."

"These natives are all jabbering French," complained Dalzell, as the chums set out to walk over the steep, well-worn roads, "but it isn't the kind of French we were taught at Annapolis."

"Can't you understand them?" asked Dave.

"Hardly a word."

"If you have to talk with any of the natives," Dave advised, "speak your French slowly, and ask the person you're addressing to do the same."

Though the way was steep, it was not a long road. Dave and Dan soon reached the upper, rocky plain, edged by cliffs, on which the Casino and some of the hotels and other buildings stand.

"If it weren't for the gambling," murmured Dan to his friend, "I'd call this a beautiful enough spot to live and die in."

"As it is, a good many men and women manage to die here," Darrin returned gravely.

The Casino was surrounded by beautiful gardens, in which were many rare tropical trees and shrubs. From the Casino came the sound of orchestral music. Throngs moved about on the verandas; couples or little groups strolled through the gardens. Inside, the play had hardly begun. Gambling does not reach its frantic height until midnight.

"We shall feel out of place," mused Dave aloud. "Dan, we really should have known better than to come here in anything but evening dress. You see that every one else is in full regalia."

"Perhaps we'd better keep on the edge of the crowd," responded Danny Grin. "There is enough to be seen here, for one evening, without entering the Casino."

Though Dave intended to enter the Casino later, he decided, for the present, to take in the full beauty of the night in the gardens. There were electric lights everywhere, which outshone the brilliance of the moon.

"Hello!" whispered Dan, suddenly. "There's an old friend of ours."

"Who?"

"Mr. Green Hat," Dan whispered impressively.

Instantly Dave Darrin became intensely interested, though he had no intimation of what this second meeting portended. That Mr. Green Hat was destined to play a highly tragic rôle in his life, Darrin, of course, had no inkling at that moment.

"There he is!" whispered Dalzell, pointing, as the chums stood screened by a flowering bush.

"We'll watch that rascal!" Dave proposed promptly. "I wonder if he has followed the 'Hudson' here with a view to attempting more mischief against our Government. Whatever his game is, I am going to take a peep at the inside of it if a chance comes my way!"

IV. Mr. Green Hat's New Rôle

Mr. Green Hat, on this occasion, had discarded the article of headwear that had given him that nickname with the young ensigns.

Instead, Gortchky wore an opera hat, with evening dress of the most fashionable description. On his broad white expanse of vest there glittered a foreign decoration.

Though he walked alone, and affected an air of indifference to his surroundings, Darrin was of the impression that the spy was looking alertly for some one.

"Of course it may happen," said Dave to his friend, "that the fellow is foolish enough to come here for the purpose of throwing away at the gaming tables the money he earns by his questionable services to some plotting international ring. Yet that seems hardly likely, either, for Gortchky must be a man of tremendous energy, to render the thrilling services that are demanded of a spy or an international trouble-maker."

Now the two chums left the place where they had been standing behind the bush, to stroll along slowly, all the while keeping Gortchky in sight.

Dave nudged his chum as, at a turn in the path, the spy came face to face with a woman clad in a beautiful evening gown.

Raising his hat, and making a courteous bow to the woman, who returned the greeting, Gortchky exchanged half a dozen sentences with her. Then the pair separated, though not before Dave and Dan had obtained, under the electric light, a good view of the young woman's face. Her dark beauty, her height and grace, gave her a queenly air.

Stepping into another path, Dave and Dan were soon on the trail of Gortchky once more, without having been obliged to pass the young woman face to face.

"I wonder if she's a 'spy-ess'?" murmured Dan.

"It is just as well to be suspicious of any one whom Gortchky appears to know well," Dave answered, slowly, in a low voice.

"I beg pardon, sir," broke in a sailor from the "Hudson," stepping forward and saluting the officers. "May I speak with you, sir?"

It was Dan to whom he spoke, and it was Dan who answered:

"Certainly, Martin."

"The spy came face to face with a woman."

Martin was one of the gun-pointers in Dalzell's division.

"Linton, one of our men, has been hurt, and rather badly, by falling off a boulder that he climbed not far from here, sir. I thought I would ask the ensign what to do with Linton."

"How badly is he hurt?" asked Ensign Dalzell.

"I think his right leg is broken, sir. Colby is with him, and I came in search of you, sir, as I was certain I saw you here."

"Is Linton far from here?" asked Dalzell.

"Less than a quarter of a mile, sir."

"Lead the way, Martin, and I'll follow you. Dave, you'll excuse me for a little while, won't you?"

"Certainly," nodded Ensign Darrin. Dave wished to remain where he was, in order to keep an eye over Gortchky's movements, and Dan knew it. So the chums parted for the present.

"Now, I'll see if I can pick up Gortchky again," reflected Ensign Darrin. "He appears to have given me the slip."

Dave went ahead, more briskly than he had been moving before, in the hope of sighting the spy.

Out of the Casino had staggered a young man, despair written on his face, hopelessness in his very air. Plunging into the garden this stranger made his way hastily through it, keeping on until he came to the field where pigeon shoots are held from time to time.

Dave, at the edge of the garden, saw the young man step past the shrubbery and go on into the darkness beyond. Under the last rays of light Ensign Darrin saw something glitter in the stranger's hand.

"That fellow has just drawn a revolver!" flashed through Darrin's mind. "Now, what mischief can he be up to?"

Led onward by some fascination that he did not understand, the young naval officer followed.

In his excitement and desperation the man did not notice that he was being followed.

Halting under the heavy foliage of a tree, the stranger glanced down at the weapon in his hand and shuddered. This foolish young man, haunting the gambling tables until he had ruined himself, and seeing nothing now ahead of him in life, was bent upon self-destruction.

Sometimes there are several such suicides at Monte Carlo in a single week. If unprovided with other means for ending his life, the suicide sometimes hurls himself over the edge of one of the steep cliffs.

Suicides, of course, have a depressing effect on other players, so those in authority at the Casino take every means of hushing up these tragedies as effectively as possible.

"There is really nothing left in life," muttered the young man huskily, as he stared at the weapon in his hand. He spoke in French, but Darrin heard and understood him.

Then the desperate one raised the weapon, pointing the muzzle at his head.

At that instant there was a quick step out of the darkness, and Dave reached the stranger. The latter, startled, drew back, but not in time to prevent Darrin's grip of steel from resting on his right wrist.

Wrench! Dave had the pistol in his own hands, at the same time murmuring:

"You will pardon me, I trust."

Ensign Darrin broke the weapon open at the breach. From the chamber he removed the cartridges, dropping them into his pocket. With another swift movement Dave flung the pistol so far that it dropped over the edge of a cliff.

"You will pardon me, I trust, sir, for throwing your property away in that fashion," Dave apologized, in the best French he could summon.

"Since it is the very last item of my property that was left to me, perhaps it can matter but little that I am deprived of it," said the stranger, smiling wanly. "The cliff is still left to me, however. I can easily follow the pistol."

"But you are not going to jump over the cliff," Darrin assured him energetically.

"And why are you so certain of that?" demanded the stranger.

Dave looked keenly at his companion before he replied:

"Because, sir, your face is that of a man—not of a coward. Suicide is the act of a coward. It is the resort of one who frankly admits that his troubles are greater than he has the manhood to bear. Now, you have, when one regards you closely, the look of a man and a gentleman."

"Thank you for your good opinion, sir," replied the stranger, bowing. "I will say that I was born a gentleman."

"And you still are one, and a man, as well as a gentleman," Dave continued, gently. "Therefore, you are not afraid to face life."

"What is there left to me to make life worth living?" queried the stranger.

"Why should you have the least desire to die?" Dave countered.

"I have lost all my money."

"That is a very slight matter," Darrin argued. "Lost all your money, have you? Why, my dear fellow, there's a lot more in the world."

"But none of the money now in the world is mine," urged the desperate one.

"Then make a part of the world's money yours," the young naval officer retorted, smilingly.

"I have never worked," replied the stranger stiffly.

"Why not?" Dave pressed.

"I never had need to."

"But now you have the need, and working for money will bring some novelty into your life," the young ensign insisted.

"Did I not tell you that I was born a gentleman?" inquired the young man, raising his eyebrows. "A gentleman never works!"

"Some gentlemen don't," Dave admitted. "But they are the wrong kind of gentlemen."

"If I mistake not," quizzed the stranger keenly, "you are a gentleman, yourself."

"I trust that I am," Dave responded gravely.

"Then do you work?"

"More hours a day than any laborer does," Darrin answered promptly. "I am a naval officer."

"Ah, but that is a career of honor—of glory!" cried the stranger.

"And so is any honest job of work that a man takes up in earnest and carries through to the best of his ability," Dave Darrin returned with warmth.

"But you see, sir," argued the stranger, though now he was smiling, "you have been trained to a profession. I never was so trained."

"You are young?"

"Twenty-four."

"Then you are young enough to change your mind and recognize the dignity of labor," Darrin continued. "You are also young enough and, unless I mistake you, bright enough to win a very good place in life for yourself. And you are man enough, now you have had time to think it over, to see the wickedness of destroying yourself. Man, make yourself instead."

"I'll do it! I will make myself!" promised the stranger, with a new outburst of emotion.

"And you will never again allow yourself to become so downcast that you will seek to destroy yourself?"

"Never!"

"I am satisfied," Dave said gravely. "You are a man of honor, and therefore are incapable of breaking your word. Your hand!"

Their hands met in ardent clasp. Then Darrin took out his card case, tendering his card to the stranger.

Instantly the young man produced his own card case, and extended a bit of pasteboard, murmuring:

"I am M. le Comte de Surigny, of Lyons, France."

It was too dark to read the cards there, but Dave gave his own name, and again the young men shook hands.

"But I am forgetting my comrade," Dave cried suddenly. "He was to return in a few minutes, and will not know where to find me."

"And I have detained you, with my own wretched affairs!" cried the young count reproachfully. "I must not trespass upon your time another second."

"Why not walk along with me and meet my friend?" Dave suggested.

"With pleasure."

Dave and the young French count stepped along briskly until they came to the spot where Dalzell had left his chum. Two or three minutes later Dan hove into sight.

Dan and the Count of Surigny were introduced, and some chat followed. Then the Count frankly told of the service that Darrin had just rendered him.

"That is Dave!" glowed Dan. "He's always around in time to be of use to some one."

In the distance a shot rang out—only one. The Count of Surigny shuddered.

"You understand, do you not?" he asked.

"I am afraid so," Dave sadly responded.

As they stood there four men with a litter hurried past toward the place whence the sound of the shot had come.

"The police of Monte Carlo," murmured the Count of Surigny.

Presently, at a distance, the three onlookers beheld the four men and the litter moving stealthily along, but not toward the Casino. The litter was occupied by a still form over which a cover had been thrown.

"You have shown me the way of true courage!" murmured the Count of Surigny, laying an affectionate hand on Ensign Darrin's shoulder.

The chums and their new acquaintance strolled along for a few moments. Then the Count suddenly exclaimed:

"But I am intruding, and must leave you."

"You surely are not intruding," Dave told him. "We are delighted with your company."

"Wholly so," Dan added.

But the Count felt himself to be an interloper, and so insisted on shaking hands again and taking his departure.

"I shall see or write you presently," said the Count. He had already obtained the fleet address, and knew, in addition, that he could write at any time through the Navy Department at Washington.

"Will he make good?" asked Danny Grin wistfully, as he peered after the departing form.

"It's an even chance," Dave replied. "Either that young man will go steadily up, or else he will go rapidly down. It is sometimes a terrible thing to be born a gentleman—in the European sense. Few of the Count's friends will appreciate him if he starts in upon a career of effort. But, even though he goes down, he will struggle bravely at the outset. Of that I feel certain."

"I wonder what has become of Gortchky?" remarked Ensign Dalzell.

That industrious spy, however, was no longer the pursued; he had become the pursuer.

From a little distance Gortchky had espied Dave and the Count chatting, and had witnessed the introduction to Dalzell. A man of Mr. Green Hat's experience with the world did not need many glances to assure himself that the Count had lost his last franc at the gambling table.

Gortchky was not at Monte Carlo without abundant assistance. So, as the Count, head down, and reflecting hard, strolled along one of the paths, a man bumped into him violently.

"Ten thousand pardons, Monsieur!" cried the bumper, in a tone of great embarrassment. "It was stupid of me. I—"

"Have no uneasiness, my friend," smiled the Count. "It was I who was stupid. I should have looked where I was going."

Courteous bows were exchanged, and the two separated. But the man who had bumped into the Count now carried inside his sleeve the Count's empty wallet, which was adorned with the crest of Surigny.

This wallet was promptly delivered to another. Five minutes later, as the Count strolled along, Emil Gortchky called out behind him:

"Monsieur! Pardon me, but I think you must have dropped your wallet."

"If I have, the loss is trifling indeed," smiled the Count, turning.

Gortchky held out the wallet, then struck a match. By the flame the Count beheld his own crest.

"Yes, it is mine," replied the Count, "and I thank you for your kindness."

"Will Monsieur do me the kindness, before I leave him, to make sure that the contents of the wallet are intact?" urged Gortchky.

"It will take but an instant," laughed the Count of Surigny. "See! I will show you that the contents are intact!"

As he spoke he opened the wallet. A packet of paper dropped to the ground. In astonishment the Count bent over to pick up the packet. M. Gortchky struck another match.

"Let us go nearer to an electric light, that you may count your money at your ease, Monsieur," suggested Gortchky.

Like one in a daze the Count moved along with Gortchky. When sufficiently in the light, Surigny, with an expression of astonishment, found that he was the possessor of thirty twenty-franc notes.

"I did not know that I had this!" cried the Count. "How did I come to overlook it?"

"It is but a trifle to a man of your fortune," cried M. Gortchky gayly.

"It is all I have in the world!" sighed the young man. "And I am still amazed that I possess so much."

"Poor?" asked Gortchky, in a voice vibrating with sympathy. "And you so young, and a gentleman of old family! Monsieur, it may be that this is a happy meeting. Perhaps I may be able to offer you the employment that befits a gentleman."

Then Gortchky lowered his voice, almost whispering:

"For I am in the diplomatic service, and have need of just such an attaché as you would make. Young, a gentleman, and of charming manners! Your intellect, too, I am sure, is one that would fit you for eminence in the diplomatic service."

"The mere mention of the diplomatic service attracts me," confessed M. le Comte wistfully.

"Then you shall have your fling at it!" promised M. Gortchky. "But enough of this. You shall talk it over with me to-morrow. Diplomacy, you know, is all gamble, and the gambler makes the best diplomat in the world. For to-night, Monsieur, you shall enjoy yourself! If I know anything of gaming fate, then you are due to reap a harvest of thousands with your few francs to-night. I can see it in your face that your luck is about to turn. An evening of calm, quiet play, Monsieur, and in the morning you and I will arrange for your entrance into the diplomatic world. Faites votre jeux! (Make your wagers.) Wealth to-night, and a career to-morrow! Come! To the Casino!"

V. Danny Grin Fights a Smile

Side by side Dave and Dan strolled through the vast main salon of the Casino.

Here at tables were groups of men and women. Each player hoped to quit the tables that night richer by thousands. Most of them were doomed to leave poorer, as chance is always in favor of the gambling institution and always against the player.

"It's a mad scene," murmured Dan, in a low voice.

"You are looking on now at an exhibition of what is probably the worst, and therefore the most dangerous, human vice," Dave replied. "Bad as drunkenness is, gambling is worse."

"What is at the bottom of the gambling mania?" Dan asked thoughtfully.

"Greed," Dave responded promptly. "The desire to possess property, and to acquire it without working for it."

"Some of these poor men and women look as if they were working hard indeed," muttered Dan, in almost a tone of sympathy.

"They are not working so much as suffering," Dave rejoined. "Study their faces, Danny boy. Can't you see greed sticking out all over these countenances? Look at the hectic flush in most of the faces. And—look at that man!"

A short, stout man sprang up from a table, his face ghastly pale and distorted as though with terror. His eyes were wild and staring. He chattered incoherently as he hastened away with tottering steps. Then his hands gripped his hair, as though about to tear it from his head.

A few of the players in this international congress of greed glanced at the unfortunate man, who probably had just beggared himself, shrugged their shoulders, and turned their fascinated eyes back to the gambling table.

One woman, young and charming, reached up to her throat, unfastening and tossing on the table a costly diamond necklace and pendant.

"Now," she laughed hysterically, "I may go on playing for another hour."

The Casino's representative in charge at that table smiled and shook his head.

"We accept only money, madame," he said, with a grave bow.

"But I have no more money—with me," flashed back the young woman, her cheeks burning feverishly.

"I regret, madame," insisted the Casino's man. Then an attendant, at a barely perceptible sign from the croupier, as the man in charge of the table is called, stepped up behind the young woman, bent over her and murmured:

"If you care to leave the table for a few minutes, madame, there are those close at hand who will advance you money on your necklace."

The young woman pouted at first. In another instant there was a suppressed shout at the table. A player had just won four thousand francs.

"I must have money!" cried the young woman, springing from her chair. "This is destined to be my lucky night, and I must have money!"

As though he had been waiting for his prey, the attendant was quickly by the woman's side. Bowing, he offered his arm. The man, attendant though he was, was garbed in evening dress. Without a blush the woman moved away on this attendant's arm.

"Shall we move on?" asked Dan.

"Not just yet," urged Darrin, in an undertone. "I am interested in the further fate of that foolish young woman."

Within five minutes she had returned. Her former seat had been reserved for her; the young woman dropped into it.

"You have enough money now?" asked the woman at her left.

"I have money," pouted the pretty young woman, "but be warned by me. The pawnbrokers at Monte Carlo are robbers. The fellow would advance me only six thousand francs, whereas my husband paid a hundred thousand for that necklace."

A moment later the young woman was absorbed in the wild frenzy of play.

"And that attendant undoubtedly gets a handsome commission from the pawnbroker," murmured Darrin in his chum's ear. "Greed here is in the very air; none can escape it who lingers."

"How much have you lost, Darrin?" called a bantering voice in Dave's ear.

The speaker was Lieutenant Totten.

"About as much, I imagine, as you have, sir," was Darrin's smiling answer.

"Meaning that you now have as much money as when you entered the place?" answered the lieutenant, banteringly.

"Exactly," returned Darrin. "I have only to study the faces here to know better than to risk even a franc-piece at one of these tables."

"And you, Dalzell?" inquired Totten.

"I haven't any French money, anyway," grinned Dan.

"Not at all necessary to have French money," laughed Totten. "Any kind of real money is good here—as long as it lasts. Every nation on earth is represented here to-night, and the attendants know the current exchange rate for any kind of good money that is coined or printed. Look closely about you and you will see other things that are worth nothing. There are men here, some of them limping, others showing the pallor of illness, who are undoubtedly French, English or Italian officers, injured at the front and sent home to hospitals. Being still unfitted to return to their soldier duties at the front, they are passing time here and indulging in their mania for gambling. And here, too, you will see wealthy French, Italian, English or Russian civilians who have returned to Monte Carlo to gamble, though later on they are pretty certain to be held up to contempt at home for gambling money away here instead of buying government war bonds at home."

"You have been here before?" Dave asked.

"Oh, yes," nodded Totten, "and as I do not play, and would not do so in any circumstances, this place has not much interest for me."

"I can hardly imagine," said Ensign Darrin, gravely, "that I shall ever bother to pay a second visit here."

"It's a good deal of a bore," yawned Lieutenant Totten, behind his hand. "I am glad to note that most of the people here look like Europeans. I should hate to believe that many Americans could be foolish enough to come here."

At that moment a stout, red-faced man rose from a table near by, his voice booming as he laughed:

"I have lost only sixteen thousand francs. I shall be sure to come back and have my revenge. In Chicago my signature is good at any time for a million dollars—for five million francs!"

Many eyes, followed this speaker wistfully. With such wealth as his how many months of frenzied pleasure they might have at Monte Carlo!

"One American idiot, at least," muttered Totten, in disgust. "Or else he's a liar or braggart."

Madly the play went on, the faces of the players growing more flushed as the hour grew later.

Totten moved along with a bored air.

"I guess he's going," said Dan. "I don't blame him for being tired of the place. It's like a human menagerie."

"We'll go, then," agreed Dave. "Surely I have seen enough of the Casino. I shall never care to revisit it."

"Ah, here you are, my dear fellows!" exclaimed a musical voice. "And the Countess Ripoli has asked me to present you to her. She is eager to know if you American officers are as wonderful as I have told her."

The speaker was Dandelli, a handsome, boyish-looking, frank-faced young Italian naval officer with whom Darrin and Dalzell had become acquainted at Gibraltar.

The Countess Ripoli, to whom Dandelli now presented the two young ensigns, was a woman in the full flower of her beauty at twenty-five or so. Tall, willowy, with a perfect air, her wonderful eyes, in which there was a touch of Moorish fire, were calculated to set a young man's heart to beating responses to her mood. Attired in the latest mode of Paris, and wearing only enough jewels to enhance her great beauty, the Countess chose to be most gracious to the young ensigns. Dave thought her a charming young woman; Dan Dalzell nearly lost his head.

From a distance Emil Gortchky looked on, a quiet smile gleaming in his eyes.

"Dandelli is a fool, who will do any pretty woman's bidding," mused the spy. "Madame Ripoli can play with him. Also I believe she will surely ensnare for me at least one of the Americans. Which, I wonder? But then why should I care which? The Ripoli knows how to manage such affairs far better than I do."

For the Countess was another of the many dangerous tools with which Mr. Green Hat plied his wicked trade.

If the Countess, as unscrupulous as Gortchky himself, could ensnare either of these young officers with her fascinations, he was likely to be that much the weaker, and a readier prey for the trap that Emil Gortchky was arranging.

"Dandelli," murmured the Countess sweetly, in French, "you will wish, I know, to talk with your dear friend, Mr. Darrin, so I must look to Mr. Dalzell to offer me his arm."

Dan was ready, with a bow, to offer the Countess Ripoli his arm, and to escort her in the direction which she indicated.

It was to one of the verandas that the Countess led the way. As she chatted she laughed and looked up at Dan with her most engaging expression. There were other promenaders on the veranda, though not many, for the furious fascination of gambling tables kept nearly all the frequenters of the place inside.

"You have played to-night?" asked the Countess, again glancing sweetly up into the young naval officer's face.

"Not to-night," Dan replied.

"But you will doubtless play later?" she insisted.

"I haven't gambled to-night, nor shall I gamble on any other night," Dan replied pleasantly.

"But why?" demanded the Countess, looking puzzled.

"Gambling does not fit in with my idea of honesty," replied Dalzell quite bluntly.

VI. Dave Runs Into a Real Thrill

"I do not understand," murmured the Countess.

"I know that the European idea of gambling is very different from that entertained by most people in my country," Dan went on pleasantly. "To the greater number of Americans, gambling is a method of getting other people's money away from them without working for it."

"And that is why you term it dishonest?" asked the Countess.

"Yes," replied Dan frankly. "And, in addition, it is a wicked waste of time that could be put to so many good uses."

Countess Ripoli shrugged her fine shoulders, and looked up once more at the young officer. But Dan was smiling back coolly at her.

"You have not a flattering idea of the Europeans?" she asked.

"Quite to the contrary," Dan assured her.

"Yet you think we are both weak and dishonest, because we use our time to poor advantage and because so many of us find Monte Carlo delightful?" she pressed him.

"Not all Europeans frequent Monte Carlo," Dalzell answered.

"May I ask my new American friend why he should waste his time here?" laughed the Countess.

"I do not believe I have exactly wasted my time," Dan replied. "A naval officer, or any other American, may well spend some of his time here in gaining a better knowledge of human nature. Surely, there is much of human nature to be seen here, even though it be not one of the better sides."

"What is the bad trait, or the vice, that one beholds most at Monte Carlo?" the Countess asked.

"Greed," Dan rejoined promptly.

"And dishonesty?"

"Much of that vice, no doubt," Dan continued. "To-night there must be many a man here who is throwing away money that his family needs, yet he will never tell his wife that he lost his money over a table at Monte Carlo. Again, there must be many a woman here throwing away money in large sums, and she, very likely, will never tell her husband the truth. Let us say that, in both sexes, there are a hundred persons here to-night who will be dishonest toward their life partners afterward. And then, perhaps, many a young bachelor, who, betrothed to some good woman, is learning his first lessons in greed and deceit. And some young girls, too, who are perhaps learning the wrong lessons in life. I know of one very young man here who tried to blow out his brains to-night. For the sake of a few hours, or perhaps a few weeks, over the gaming tables of Monte Carlo, he had thrown away everything that made life worth living. Any man who gambles bids good-by to the finer things of life."

Dan's slow, halting French made the Countess listen very attentively, that she might understand just what he said. She puckered her brow thoughtfully, then suddenly glanced up, laughing with all the witchery at her command.

"Then, my dear American," she said insinuatingly, "I fear that you are going to refuse me a very great favor."

"I hope not," Dan replied, gallantly.

"There is," pursued the Countess, "such a thing as luck. Often a prophecy of that luck is to be seen in one's face. I see such luck written in your face now. Since you will not play for yourself, I had hoped that you would be willing to let me have the benefit of a little of the luck that is so plainly written on your face. I had hoped, up to this instant, that you would consent to play as my proxy."

The Countess was looking at him in a way that would have melted many a man into agreeing to her wishes, but Dan answered promptly:

"I regret, Countess, to be compelled to refuse your request, but I would not play for myself, nor for anyone else."

"If you so detest Monte Carlo and its pursuits," replied the Countess with a pout, "I cannot understand why you are here."

"There was something useful to be gained from witnessing the sights here, but I have seen as much as I wish," Dalzell went on, "and now I am ready to leave. I am returning to my ship as soon as Darrin is ready to go."

"And he, also, is tired of Monte Carlo?" asked Countess Ripoli.

"Darrin's views are much the same as my own," Dan responded quietly.

Countess Ripoli bit her lip, then surveyed Dalzell with a sidelong look which she did not believe he saw, but Dan, trained in habits of observation, had missed nothing.

"Will you take me back to the tables?" asked the Countess suddenly.

"With pleasure," bowed Dan.

Lightly resting a hand on his arm the Countess guided Dalzell rather than walked with him. Back into the largest salon they moved.

Dan's eye roved about in search of Darrin, but that young ensign was not in sight.

At that very moment, in fact, Dave Darrin was very much concerned in a matter upon which he had stumbled.

A few moments before his quick eye had espied Emil Gortchky crossing the room at a distance. Gortchky paused barely more than a few seconds to say a few words to a white-bearded, rather distinguished-looking foreigner. The older man returned Gortchky's look, then smiled slightly and moved on.

It was a trivial incident, but it was sufficient to set Dave's mind to working swiftly, on account of what he already knew about Mr. Green Hat.

For a few moments longer Ensign Darrin stood where he was; then, tiring of the scene, and wondering what had become of Danny Grin, he moved out upon one of the verandas, strolling slowly along. Reaching a darker part of the veranda, where a clump of small potted trees formed a toy grove, Dave paused, looking past the trees out upon the vague glimpses to be had of the Mediterranean by night.

There, in the near distance, gleamed the lights of the "Hudson." Darrin's face glowed with pride in the ship and in the Nation that stood behind her.

Almost unconsciously he stepped inside the little grove. For a few minutes longer his gaze rested on the sea. Then, hearing voices faintly, he turned to see if Dalzell were approaching.

Instead, it was the white-bearded foreigner, the murmur of whose voice had reached him. With him was another man, younger, black-haired, and with a face that somehow made the beholder think of an eagle.

The two men were engaged in close, low-voiced conversation.

"I'd better step into view," reflected Darrin, "so that they may not talk of private matters in my hearing."

Just then a chuckle escaped the younger of the pair, and with it Dave distinguished the word, "American."

It was the sneering intonation given the word that made Dave Darrin start slightly.

"Those men are discussing my country," muttered the young ensign, swiftly, "and one of them at least is well acquainted with that spy, Gortchky. Perhaps I shall do better to remain where I am."

Nor had Dave long to deliberate on this point, for the pair now neared the grove. They were speaking French, and in undertones, but Dave's ear was quick for that tongue, and he caught the words:

"England's friendship is important to America at the present moment, and it is very freely given, too. The English believe in their Yankee cousins."

"When the English lose a naval ship or two at Malta or elsewhere, and learn that it is the Americans who sink their ships, and then lie about it, will the English love for America be as great?" laughed the younger man.

"The English will be furious," smiled the white-bearded man, "and they will never learn the truth, either. For a hundred years to come Great Britain will hate the United States with the fiercest hatred."

"It is a desperate trick, but a clever one," declared the younger man, admiringly. "Nor will there be any way for either England or America to learn the truth. The whole world will know that the Yankees destroyed two British ships with all on board. It will probably bring the two countries to actual war. No matter though England is at present engaged in a huge war, the sentiment of her people would force her to take the United States on, too."

Ensign Dave Darrin, overhearing that conversation, and well knowing that he was listening to more than vaporing, felt his face blanch. He steeled himself to rigid posture as he felt himself trembling slightly.

Farther down the veranda strolled the French-speaking pair, then wheeled out of sight.

In a twinkling Dave strode silently, swiftly toward the salon that he had left. As he stepped into the brighter light, with admirable control, he slowed down to a sauntering stroll, looking smilingly about as though his whole mind were on the scenes of gambling before him.

A moment or two later Darrin's eyes caught sight of Dan Dalzell, as that young officer bowed the Countess Ripoli to a seat.

In vain did the Countess use her prettiest smiles to hold Danny Grin by her side as she played. Dalzell had been schooled at Annapolis and in the Navy itself, and knew how to take his leave gracefully, which he did, followed by the pouts of the Countess. As soon as she saw that the ensign's back was turned, a very unpleasant frown crossed her beautiful face.

Dave continued his stroll until he met Dan at a point where none stood near them.

"Keep on smiling, Dan," urged Dave, in an undertone. "Don't let that grin leave your face. But it's back to the ship for us on the double-quick! I may be dreaming, but I think I have found out the meaning of Mr. Green Hat's strange activities. I believe there is a plot on foot to bring England and our country into war with each other. One thing is certain. It's my duty to get back on board as fast as possible. I must tell the admiral what I have overheard."

Dan did not forget the injunction to keep on smiling. He proved so excellent an actor that he laughed heartily as Dave Darrin finished his few but thrilling words.

"Tiresome here, isn't it?" murmured Dan, aloud. "We might as well go back on board ship."

VII. The Admiral Unloads His Mind

Reporting their coming aboard to the officer of the deck, Dave and Dan hastened to their respective quarters.

While Ensign Dalzell performed a "lightning change" from "cits" to uniform, Dave first seated himself at his desk, where he wrote a note hurriedly.

This done, he passed the word for an orderly, who promptly appeared.

"Take this note to the Captain," ordered Darrin.

"Aye, aye, sir," said the messenger.

Dave then hastened to make the necessary change in his own apparel. So quickly did he act, that he had his uniform on and was buttoning his blouse when the messenger returned.

"The Captain will see Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell immediately," reported the orderly.

Returning the orderly's salute, Dave buckled on his sword belt, hung on his sword, drew on his white gloves, and started. He found his chum ready.

Together the young officers reported at the Captain's quarters. Captain Allen was already seated at his desk.

"Orderly!" called the commanding officer briskly.

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Guard the door and report that I am engaged."

"Aye, aye, sir."

In an instant Captain Allen, who had briefly greeted his youngest officers, turned to them.

"Your note, Mr. Darrin, stated that you had a matter to report to me of such importance that you did not believe I would wish to lose a moment in hearing what Mr. Dalzell and yourself could tell me."

"That is the case, sir," Dave bowed. "Have I your permission to proceed, sir?"

"Yes. You may take seats, if you wish."

Bowing their thanks, the young officers remained on their feet.

Ensign Dave plunged at once into the narration of what had befallen them ashore.

Captain Allen listened to the tale without comment, but when Dave related what he had overheard the two men say when passing the imitation grove on the darkest part of the Casino veranda, the commanding officer sprang to his feet.

"Mr. Darrin," he demanded, "are you positive of the words that you have just repeated?"

"I am, sir. In a matter of such importance I was careful to record every word in my mind just as it was uttered."

"Then I must communicate with the Admiral at once," continued Captain Allen, seating himself again. "Even if the Admiral be abed I consider this a subject of enough importance to call him."

Taking down the receiver of the telephone that led direct to the fleet commander's quarters, the Captain sent in a call to the Admiral's quarters.

Soon there came a response.

"This is the Captain speaking, Admiral," announced the "Hudson's" commanding officer. "Although the hour is late, sir, I request permission to report to you on a matter of importance."

"I will see you, Captain, in five minutes."

"Thank you, sir. I request permission to bring two officers with me."

"Permission is granted, Captain."

"Thank you, sir."

Hanging up the transmitter, Captain Allen sank back in his chair.

"Is there anything else, gentlemen, that you wish to say to me before we go to the Admiral?"

"I think I have told you all, sir," Dave replied.

"And I, too," Dalzell added.

Keeping his eye on the clock, Captain Allen presently arose, girded on his sword, parted the curtains, and led the way.

"If I am wanted, Orderly, I shall be in the Admiral's quarters."

"Aye, aye, sir."

The three officers then filed rapidly along the deck, presented themselves at the Admiral's quarters, and were admitted.

Admiral Timworth was standing at the rear of his cabin when the subordinate officers entered. He came quickly forward, instructed his orderly to guard the door, then turned to his visitors.

"I believe it will be best, with your permission, sir," began Captain Allen, "to let Mr. Darrin make his report to you."

"Mr. Darrin will proceed, then."

So Dave repeated the story he had told the Captain. Admiral Timworth listened until the recital had been finished, and then asked several questions.

"It does not sound like a hoax," commented Admiral Timworth, at last. "Yet it is impossible for me to conceive how two British battleships are to be sunk near Malta, or near anywhere else, and Americans blamed for the act. Captain Allen, can you imagine any way in which such a thing might be effected?"

"I cannot, sir."

"The subject must be given careful thought," declared the Admiral. "By the way, Mr. Darrin, do you think you could identify those two men who talked of the proposed destruction of the British battleships?"

"I am positive that I could do so, sir," Dave rejoined, "provided they were not disguised."

"Then you may meet them again, as we shall stop at various Mediterranean ports. If you do, sir, I wish you to report to me anything that you may find out about them. Mr. Dalzell did not see them, did he?"

"I may have passed them, sir," Dan replied, "but I would not know them, if meeting them, as the men whom Mr. Darrin mentions."

"Then, Captain, you will see to it," directed the Admiral, "that Mr. Dalzell has shore leave whenever Mr. Darrin does. The two young men will go ashore together so that Mr. Darrin, if opportunity presents, may indicate the plotters to Mr. Dalzell."

The Captain and the young officers bowed their understanding of this order.

"The presence of Gortchky here, taken with what Mr. Darrin overheard those men talking about, and coupled with what took place on the mole at Gibraltar, leads me to believe that some foreign government has plans for involving the United States government in serious complications," resumed the Admiral, after a pause. "Gortchky is not in charge of any very extensive plot. He is simply a tool of greater minds, and it may easily be that the pair whom Mr. Darrin overheard are those who are directing Gortchky in some really big and dangerous scheme. By the way, gentlemen, was either of you introduced to any young or charming woman ashore?"

"We were both presented to the Countess Ripoli, sir," Darrin answered, at once.

"And at the Countess's request, I took a little turn with her on one of the verandas, sir," Dan added.

"Tell me all about the Countess and your meeting with her, Mr. Dalzell," Admiral Timworth directed.

So Dan plunged at once into a narration of his chat with the Countess, to which Admiral Timworth listened attentively.

"Ripoli?" he mused aloud, at last. "I do not recall the name as that of a supposed secret service agent. Ripoli? Let me see."

From a drawer of his desk the Admiral drew out an indexed book. He turned over, presumably, to the letter "R," then scanned the writing on several pages.

"She has not been reported to me as a suspected secret service agent of any country," said the fleet commander, aloud. "Yet she may very likely be a spy in the service of some ring of international trouble-makers. I will enter her name now, though I cannot place anything positive against it."

"If either of us should meet the Countess Ripoli again, sir," queried Dan, "have you any orders, sir, in that event?"

"If you do meet her," replied the admiral, "do not be too distant with her, and do not let her see that she is in any sense under suspicion. Just treat her as you would any charming woman whom you might meet socially. However, should you meet her again, you may report the fact to me. I shall doubtless have some further instructions for you, gentlemen, but that is all for the present. Captain, you will remain."

Formally saluting their superiors, Dave and Dan withdrew and returned to Dave's quarters. For half an hour Dan remained chatting with Dave, then went to his own quarters.

By daylight the "Hudson" was under way again, bound for Naples. Dan and Dave were called to stand their watches, and life on the battleship went on as usual.

It was but an hour after daylight when Admiral Timworth, who had remained up the rest of the night with Flag Lieutenant Simpson, sent a long message to the Navy Department at Washington. The message crackled out over the "Hudson's" wireless aerials, and was soon afterward received in Washington at the huge naval wireless station there.

"Good night, Simpson," said the Admiral, when his flag lieutenant reported that the message was in the hands of the wireless operator.

"Shall I leave any instructions for your being called, sir?" asked Lieutenant Simpson.

"Have me called at ten o'clock, unless a reply from the Navy Department should arrive earlier. In that case have me called at once."

The flag lieutenant is the personal aide of the fleet commander.

If the Admiral received an interesting reply from the Navy Department during the voyage to Naples, he at least concealed the fact from Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell. Ensigns, however, are quite accustomed to reserve on the part of admirals.

It was one o'clock one sunny afternoon when the "Hudson" entered the Bay of Naples. Her anchorage having already been assigned by wireless by the port authorities at Naples, the "Hudson" came to anchor close to the "Kennebec" and "Lowell" of the Mediterranean Fleet. Admiral Timworth now had three war vessels under his own eyes.

At four bells (two o'clock) an orderly called at Dan's and Dave's quarters, with orders to report to the Admiral at once.

When the two young ensigns reached the Admiral's quarters they found Lieutenant Simpson there also.

"Be seated, gentlemen," directed the Admiral.

For a few moments Admiral Timworth shuffled papers on his desk, glancing briefly at some of them.

"Now, gentlemen," said the Admiral, wheeling about in his chair and looking impressively at Darrin and Dalzell, "it seems to me I had better preface my remarks by giving you some idea of the Fleet's unusual and special mission in the Mediterranean. That may lead you to a better comprehension of why a certain foreign power should wish to create, between Great Britain and the United States, a situation that would probably call for war between the two greatest nations of the world."

VIII. On Lively Special Duty

"In the first place," resumed the Admiral, "you must know that relations between Great Britain and the United States are, and for some time have been, of an especially cordial nature. Throughout the great war Great Britain has been compelled to buy a large part of her food and munitions in the United States. Except for her being able to do so she would have been forced out of the war and the Entente Allies would have been defeated. There are Englishmen who will make you feel that the saving force of the United States is greatly appreciated in England, just as there are other Englishmen who will remark stupidly that the United States as a seller, has had a great opportunity to grow rich at England's expense.

"There can be no doubt that thinking Englishmen are prepared to go to almost any extent to cultivate and keep the friendship of the United States, just as duller-witted Englishmen declare that the United States depends upon England for existence.

"During the present war Great Britain has felt compelled to impose certain blockade restrictions upon our commerce with neutral powers in Europe. This has hampered our commerce to some extent, and there are many in the United States who feel deep resentment, and favor taking any steps necessary to compel England to abandon her interference with our merchant marine. Some Englishmen take an almost insolent attitude in the matter, while others beg us to believe that England hinders some of our commerce only in order to preserve her own national life. In other words, if she did not carefully regulate the world's trade with, for instance, Denmark and Holland, those countries would sell much of their importations to Germany, whereby the duration of the war would be prolonged by reason of help obtained by Germany in that manner.

"As you can readily understand, the situation is full of delicate points, and many sensibilities are wounded. There have been times when only a spark was needed to kindle a serious blaze of mutual wrath between Great Britain and the United States. And you may be sure there are some governments in this world that would be delighted to see feelings of deep hostility engendered between Britons and Americans.

"At present, however, there seems to be not the slightest cloud over the relations between Great Britain and our country.

"Now, Mr. Darrin, you have obtained clues to a startling plot that has for its object the causing of distrust between the two greatest nations. If one or more British warships should be sunk, by some means that we do not at present know, and if the blame could be plausibly laid against Americans, there would be hot-tempered talk in England and a lot of indignant retort from our country. It would seem preposterous that any Englishman could suspect the American government of destroying British warships, and just as absurd to think that Americans could take such a charge seriously. Yet in the relations between nations the absurd thing often does happen. Should England lose any warships it would seem that only Germany or Austria could be blamed, yet it might be possible for plotters to manage the thing so successfully, and with so much cleverness, that the United States would really seem to be proven to be the guilty party. Our duty as officers of the Navy can be performed only by frustrating the hideous plot altogether.

"So, Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell, while we are at Naples you will spend as much of your time as possible on shore. You will go about everywhere, as though to see the sights of the city and as if bent on getting your fill of pleasure. Unless under pressing need you will not be extravagant in your expenditures, but will conduct yourselves as though sight-seeing within the limits of your modest pay as ensigns. You will, however, not be put to any expense in the matter, as all your expenditures will be returned to you out of an emergency fund in my hands.

"Your object in going ashore will be to report if you see Gortchky in Naples. I feel rather certain that the fellow is already there. You, Mr. Darrin, will also keep your eyes wide open for a sight of either or both of that pair whom you overheard talking at Monte Carlo. You will also note and report if you find the Countess Ripoli in Naples."

"And if we meet her and if she speaks to us, sir?" asked Dalzell. "What if she even wishes to entertain us, or to claim our escort?"

"Do whatever you can to please the Countess," replied the Admiral, promptly. "Be agreeable to her in any way that does not interfere with other and more important duties to which I have assigned you."

Judging by a sign from the fleet commander that the interview was now at an end, Dave and Dan rose, standing at attention.

"Perhaps I have given you a wrong impression in one particular," Admiral Timworth continued. "I do not wish you to understand, gentlemen, that I have intimated that any power, or any combination of powers, has directly ordered any act that would lead to the sinking of British warships. Governments, even the worst, do not act in that way. The thing which the power I have in mind may have done is to give certain secret agents a free hand to bring about war between England and the United States. Undoubtedly, the secret agents at the bottom of this conspiracy have been left free to choose their own methods. Thus the foreign government interested in this conspiracy could feel that it did not order the commission of a crime, no matter what might happen as the result. Now, gentlemen, have you any questions to ask?"

"None, sir," Dave Darrin responded immediately.

"None, sir," echoed Dalzell.

"Then you may go," rejoined Admiral Timworth, rising and returning the parting salutes of the young officers.

It was presently noised about among the ship's company that Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell had been ordered ashore on special duty.

"How did you work it?" Lieutenant Barnes irritably demanded of Danny Grin.

"Why? Do you want to work a trick yourself?" asked Dalzell, unsympathetically.

"No such luck for me," growled Barnes. "While in port I am ordered to take charge of shifting stores below decks."

"Fine!" approved Dan.

"And I wish I had you for junior officer on that detail," growled Barnes.

"If I get tired of staying ashore," Danny Grin proposed genially, "I'll make humble petition to be assigned as junior on your detail."

IX. M. Dalny Plans a Tragedy

"Say, I wonder if these people call this a square deal," muttered Danny Grin, as he surveyed the dish that the waiter had just left for him. "I called for ham and eggs and potatoes, and the fellow has brought me chicken and this dish of vegetables that none but a native could name."

"Call the waiter back and ask him to explain his mistake," Ensign Darrin suggested, smilingly.

"I can't talk their lingo," returned Dalzell plaintively.

"Nor can I speak much of it, either," admitted Dave.

"Can you speak any Italian?"

"Only a little, and very badly at that."

"Where did you learn Italian?" demanded Danny Grin.

"From an Italian-American cook on board our ship," Darrin explained.

"Whew! You must have done that while I was asleep," Dalzell complained.

"I don't know enough Italian to carry me very far," laughed Darrin. "Perhaps between two and three hundred useful words, and some of the parts of a few verbs. Let me see just what you thought you were ordering."

Dan held out a somewhat soiled bill of fare on which the names of the dishes were printed in Italian and English.

"I tried to pronounce the Italian words right," Dan went on, with a grimace.

"Let me hear you read the words over again," Dave begged.

Dan did so, his comrade's smile deepening.

"Dan," said Dave dryly, "you speak Italian as though it were French. Italian is too delicate a language for that treatment."

"But what am I to do about this chicken?" Danny Grin persisted.

"Eat it," suggested Darrin, "and use some of your time ashore in getting closer to the Italian language."

Dave was served with just what he had ordered for a pleasing meal—an omelet, spaghetti and Neapolitan tomatoes, with dessert to follow.

"I'm no great admirer of chicken, and I did want ham," sighed Dan, as he glanced enviously at his chum's dainty food. Nevertheless Ensign Dalzell ate his meal with an air of resignation that greatly amused Dave Darrin.

The restaurant was one of the largest and handsomest to be found along that great thoroughfare of Naples, the Riviera di Chiaja. The place would seat perhaps four hundred guests. At this hour of the day there were about half that number of persons present, many of whom were Americans.

The chums had succeeded in obtaining a small table by themselves, close to an open window that overlooked the sidewalk.

Watching the throngs that passed, both on foot and in carriages of many types, the young naval officers felt certain that at no other point could they obtain as good a general view of the city of Naples. Many well-to-do Italians were afoot, having sold their carriages and automobiles in order to buy the war bonds of their country. As there were several Italian warships in port, sailors from these craft were ashore and mingling with the throng. Soldiers home on sick leave from the Austrian frontier were to be seen. Other men, who looked like mere lads, wore new army uniforms proudly. These latter were the present year's recruits, lately called to the colors and drilling for the work that lay ahead of them, work in deadly earnest against hated Austria.

All that went on before the café was interesting enough. It was not, however, until near the end of the meal that anything happened of personal interest to Dave and Dan.

Then there was a quick step behind them, next a voice cried gaily:

"My dear Monsieur Darrin, who could have expected to see you here?"

"Any one who knew that my ship is in the harbor might have expected to see me here," replied Dave, rising and smiling. "How do you do, Monsieur le Comte?"

It was indeed the Count of Surigny, and that dapper, well-set-up young Frenchman was nattily dressed, smiling, and with an unmistakable air of prosperity about him.

Dan had also risen. Then as the three seated themselves Dave inquired what refreshment his friend of Monte Carlo would allow them the pleasure of ordering for him. The Count asked only for a cup of coffee, after which the chat went merrily on.

"My dear Darrin, I rejoice to be able to tell you that I have determined never again to visit Monte Carlo," said the Count. "Moreover, I am prosperous and happy. Ah, what a debt of gratitude I owe you! I know you must be wondering why I am not serving my country in the trenches."

"I knew you must have some good reason for not serving in the French army at such a time," Dave replied.

"I tried to enter the army," Surigny replied, "but the surgeons refused to pass me. One of my eyes is too weak, and there is, besides, some little irregularity in the action of my heart that would make it impossible for me to endure the hardships of a soldier. So, despite my protests and entreaties, the surgeons have refused to accept me for military service."

"Is it permitted to ask if you have found employment?" Dave inquired.

"I have found employment of a sort," the Count rattled on, without a shade of embarrassment. "It might be questioned if I am worth the remuneration which I receive, but at least I am happy. I am permitted to serve a friend in some little matters of a personal nature."

That answer was enough to prevent Dave from making any further inquiries as to the Count's new means of a livelihood.

"It gives me the greatest happiness to be able to see you again, and to hear your voice," continued the Count. "I am here in Naples only as a matter of accident, and it may be that my stay here will be short. I was at a table in the rear with a friend when I espied you sitting here. Is it permitted that I bring my friend over and present him?"

"We shall be delighted to meet any friend of yours, Surigny," Dave replied pleasantly.

"Then I shall bring him here at once," replied the Frenchman, lightly, rising and moving rapidly away.

"I wonder what line of work the Count can be in now," mused Dalzell, aloud. "It would appear to be something that pays him very well and allows him to travel. I wonder if the friend he is to introduce to us is the one that employs him."

"We shall know that if Count Surigny chooses to inform us," smiled Dave.

Then their talk ceased, for they heard the Count's voice in conversation with some one as he came up behind them.

"My dear Monsieur Darrin," cried the Count, "I am honored in being able to present to you Monsieur Dalny."

Ensign Darrin rose, wheeled and thrust out his hand. Then his eyes turned to the newcomer's face.

Nor could the young naval officer repress a slight start, for M. Dalny was unmistakably one of the two men whom he had overheard on the veranda of the Casino at Monte Carlo.

"Monsieur Darrin," replied M. Dalny, accepting Dave's hand, "I feel that I am indeed honored in being able to meet one who, I understand, has been such a friend to my friend the Count of Surigny. I shall hope to see much of you."

Dalny was then introduced to Dalzell, after which, at Dave's invitation, the newcomers seated themselves. Fresh coffee was ordered.

But Dave Darrin's head was now in a good deal of a whirl.

As to the identity of M. Dalny, there could be no mistake whatever. And here was the Count of Surigny, evidently in the friendship of this plotter against the American Navy. It was not unlikely that the Count, too, was in the employ of this enemy of the United States.

"What can this whole thing mean, and does Surigny know that he is working against the peace and honor of my country?" Dave asked himself, his pulses throbbing.

"Are you to be here long at Naples, Monsieur Darrin?" Dalny soon asked in his most velvet-like tones.

"I really haven't the least idea, Monsieur Dalny," Dave replied truthfully, forcing a smile. "I am not deep in the confidence of Admiral Timworth."

"I thought it very likely," purred Monsieur Dalny, "that you might have heard from your officers as to how many days of shore liberty are likely to be granted your sailors."

"Oh, probably we shall—" began Dan, who found the French conversation easy to understand in this instance.

But the slightest of signs from Darrin was sufficient to check Dalzell's intended statement. So Danny Grin merely finished:

"Probably we shall hear soon how long our stay here is to be."

"Are you interested, Monsieur Dalny, in the length of our stay here?" queried Ensign Dave, gazing carelessly into the eyes of the stranger.

"Oh, it is but a matter of idle curiosity to me," replied the other, shrugging his shoulders amiably. "Just as you understand it would be a matter of a little curiosity, my dear Monsieur Darrin, to know whether the American fleet now in the harbor here will keep together for the next few weeks, and what ports you will visit. But I imagine that you have, as yet, no information on such points."

Dave did not reply to M. Dalny's remarks, who, however, did not appear to notice the omission. Drawing forth a long cigar and lighting it, Dalny puffed away, seeming to prefer, after that, to listen to the conversation of the others.

"Who can this Monsieur Dalny be?" Dave asked himself, racking his brain. "And of what nationality? The word 'Monsieur' is French in itself, though Dalny is hardly a French name. Perhaps it makes little difference, though, for men who sell their time and services as I am afraid this Dalny fellow is doing, are quite likely to masquerade under assumed names."

Presently M. Dalny excused himself for a few moments. Sauntering toward the rear of the restaurant, he stepped into a side passage, then made a quick entrance into a private room, the door of which he instantly locked. He now crossed the room and stood before the solitary diner in that room.

"My dear Mender!" cried Dalny.

"Your face betrays interest, Dalny," remarked the other, who was the older of the pair whom Dave had heard on the Casino veranda.

"And I am interested," continued Dalny, in a low tone. "I have met the two young officers from the American flagship."

"That is what you are here to do," smiled Monsieur Mender.

"The fellow Darrin refuses me any information about the movements of the American fleet."

"That was perhaps to be expected," answered Mender reflectively.

"But I fear matters are worse than that," Dalny went on hurriedly.

"Explain yourself, Dalny."

"Darrin did not see my face until he rose to greet me, when Surigny introduced us," continued Dalny. "Then he started, slightly, yet most plainly. Monsieur Mender, that young American naval officer knows something about us."

"Not very likely, Dalny."

"Then he at least suspects something."

"Why should he?"

"Monsieur Mender," hurried on Dalny, "you recall that evening on the Casino veranda at Monte Carlo? You and I, as we approached a little grove of potted trees, talked rather more incautiously than we should have done."

"It was an indiscretion, true," nodded the white-haired Mender thoughtfully.

"And, afterwards, as you know, I told you I thought I heard someone move behind those little trees."

"And so—?"

"I suspect, Monsieur Mender, that it was Ensign Darrin, of the battleship 'Hudson,' who stood behind those trees, and who overheard us."

"I wish I knew if such were the case," replied M. Mender huskily, his face paling with anxiety.

"If Darrin overheard our talk, he doubtless reported it to his superior officers," declared Dalny.

"Unquestionably—if he really heard," admitted Mender.

"Then that pair of young officers, for they are close friends, must have been sent ashore to see if they could get track of the numerous party whom you direct, my dear Monsieur Mender."

"You believe that the two young American officers are ashore in Naples as spies upon us?" questioned Mender, his tone cold and deadly.

"It would seem so," Dalny answered readily.

"In that case—" began Mender, slowly, then paused.

"In that case—what?" demanded Dalny, after waiting a few moments while his chief reflected.

"It would mean that the Italian authorities, as soon as informed of what is suspected against us, would send out their keenest men to locate us, and then we should be arrested."

"What could be done to us?" queried Dalny.

"In these war days not very much evidence is required against men who are accused of being spies, my excellent Dalny. We might or we might not be accorded a trial, but one thing is quite sure; we would be shot to death on the charge of being spies."

As he pronounced these significant words Mender shrugged his shoulders. His manner was cool, one would have said almost unconcerned.

"You are right," agreed the younger plotter. "The Italians, like all the other peoples engaged in this war, hate spies bitterly, and would be quick to mete out death to us."

"It would be desirable," Mender proceeded, "to prevent the young officers from going back aboard their ship."

"How?" asked Dalny, bluntly.

Mender laughed, cold-bloodedly, in a low tone.

"In Naples," he explained, "there are, as you know, my dear Dalny, hundreds of bravos, some of whom are the most desperate fellows in the world—men who would stick at nothing to earn a few lira. And they will ask no awkward questions as to which country they serve in aiding us."

"Then you would have Darrin and Dalzell seized, by night, by some of these bravos, and carried away to a secure place where they could be confined until your plans have been carried through?" inquired Dalny, thoughtfully.

"It is always dangerous to have banditti seize men and hide them away, especially in a country that is engaged in war," replied Mender, slowly. "Now, if, in one of the narrow, dark streets of Old Naples, these young Americans were settled by a few quiet thrusts with the blade, their bodies might then be dropped into a sewer. The bodies might not be found for weeks. On the other hand, captives, no matter how securely hidden, may find means to escape, and all our care in the matter would go for naught. Besides, these Sicilian bravos of Naples much prefer to settle a man with one or two quick thrusts with a narrow blade, and then—But what is the matter, Dalny? Does the use of the knife terrify you?"

"No!" replied Dalny, huskily. "I was merely thinking that, if a man like either Darrin or Dalzell escaped from a knife, after seeing its flash, and if he suspected me of being behind the attempt, either young man would be likely to lay hold of me and snap my spine."

"If you are fearful of the chances and of the possible consequences, Dalny," replied Mender coldly, "you may withdraw."

"No, no, no!" protested Dalny quickly. "You are my chief, Monsieur Mender, and whatever you wish I shall do."

Mender puffed for a few moments at a Russian cigarette, before he again spoke.

"Dalny," he said, "you may be sure I do not distrust either your loyalty or your courage. Go back to your Americans. Detain them as long as needful at the table, no matter by what arts. Within twenty minutes I shall have a leader of Neapolitan bravos here, and I shall have a plan to unfold to him. Then he will go and post his men. You will receive instructions from me that you cannot mistake. You are right in fearing Darrin and Dalzell. We can afford to take no chances. That pair of young American officers shall have no chance of reporting our presence in Naples to their superior officers. Sooner than permit the least risk of interference with our plans I shall remove them from our way."

"Darrin and Dalzell are to be killed, then?" asked Dalny hoarsely.

"They shall be snuffed out," replied Mender, flicking the ash from his cigarette. "Go, Dalny, and do your part as far as you have heard it from me. I will attend to the rest. Do not be uneasy."

Dalny made a low bow before his cold-blooded chief, then left the private room, returning to Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell, whose death, under the knives of cowardly treachery, he must do his best to help bring about!

X. Treachery Has the Floor

"You will not have much time for sight-seeing, I am afraid," Count Surigny was saying, as Monsieur Dalny soft-footedly returned to the table.

"I do not know how much time we shall have," Dave answered.

"If you have but little time, then it will be most unfortunate," spoke Dalny softly, with his engaging smile. "Naples is vastly rich in things that are worth while seeing."

"We are not likely to have the time to see many of them," Darrin answered.

"That is most unfortunate," replied the Count, in a regretful tone.

"Yet there is a way to partly overcome that misfortune," suggested Mr. Dalny.

"How, Monsieur?" inquired Darrin, turning his gaze on the face of the international plotter.

"Why, secure a good guide, engage a carriage drawn by good horses, and then move from point to point as fast as possible," replied Dalny. "I know Naples well. Perhaps I can offer my services for, say, this evening."

"Are the public places of interest likely to be open in the evening?" questioned Dave.

"Not the museums," admitted M. Dalny. "But there are many other things to be seen. Naples has several beautiful parks. Some of them contain notable statues. These parks are the nightly resort of all classes of the Italian community, who are always worth observing. Then, too, there are many curious glimpses to be had of the night life of the underworld of Naples. In a word, Monsieur Darrin, there are enough night sights, of one kind and another, to fill profitably a month in Naples. And, as I know the city, you may command me. I will be your guide. Shall we go to-night?"

"Where could we go, with the most advantage in the matter of sight-seeing?" Dave asked.

"Out toward Vomero," suggested young Count Surigny.

"Too fashionable, and very dull," replied Dalny, with a shake of his head.

"Then where?" asked Dan.

But Dalny's reply was lost to him, for at that moment Darrin, holding a rolled napkin at one side of the table, and below the level of the table top, waved it slowly back and forth. Dan was the only one of the party at the table who could see the moving napkin. By this simple wig-wag signal device Dave Darrin sent to his chum the silent message:

"Dalny is one of the plotters I overheard on the Casino veranda. Think he suspects us. Follow my lead."

The instant that the message ended Dan glanced slowly around him, then upward at the ceiling.

Soon Dalny's interest in the table talk waned for outside on the sidewalk he caught sight of a young Neapolitan dandy, standing on the curb, his back turned to the restaurant as he swung a jaunty little cane. The motions of that cane spelled out a message that only Dalny, of all the party at the table, could read. And that message read:

"Get carriage, take Americans for drive at dark. Finally, direct driver to turn into the Strada di Mara. Leave carriage with Americans when urged by shop-keeper."

That was the whole message. It was plain enough, however, to instruct Dalny as fully as he needed to be directed. The scoundrel, as he watched the swinging movements of the cane, looked out into the street between half-closed eyelids, slowly puffing out rings of smoke from his long cigar.

"We are becoming dull, good friends," laughed Dalny presently, glancing at the others. "Suppose we order more coffee."

"No more for me, thank you," protested Dave.

"But you have had hardly any coffee," Dalny declared.

"I am ready to admit that I can't keep up with the average American in drinking coffee," Dave replied.

"But you will have more, my dear Dalzell," urged Dalny.

Dan, who was inwardly agitated over the information he had received secretly from his chum, looked at Dalny almost with a start. In Dan's soul there was loathing for this foreigner with the engaging smile.

"I do not believe I can stand any more coffee," confessed Dan.

"So you and I, Surigny, must drink all the coffee at this table," said Dalny, with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I can drink a little more," replied the Count.

The day was now rapidly waning, bringing on a balminess of evening such as is found in few places other than Naples. The streets were becoming crowded with pedestrians.

"Waiter," called Dalny, "you will be good enough to secure for us a carriage with good horses. Get it as quickly as you can."

But the waiter, perceiving a signal from Dalny, knew that the carriage must not arrive too soon.

In the meantime Dave scanned the bill that had been presented for the meal, then laid a banknote on the bill. The waiter, returning, attended to the paying of the bill and received his "tip" from the change that he brought back.

The party lingered at the table to wait for the arrival of the carriage that was intended to convey Dave Darrin and Dan Dalzell to their death.

"My dear Count," said Dalny presently, "I regret much that the appointment which you told me you had for this evening will prevent you from going with us. Can you not manage to break the appointment without doing injustice to others?"

Taking his cue from the manner in which the question was put, the Comte of Surigny replied:

"It would delight me beyond measure to be one of the party to-night, but it is impossible. My appointment cannot be set aside."

The restaurant was brilliantly lighted, and the street lights had begun to flash out as the carriage arrived.

"Now, for a night of real sight-seeing!" cried Dalny, rising eagerly. "My dear Americans, I promise you something such as you have never before experienced!"

"I am heartily sorry that you are prevented from going with us, Surigny," declared Dave, holding out his hand to the young Frenchman.

"I shall pray for better fortune next time," smiled the Count, rather sadly.

"We are all desolate that you cannot go with us, Surigny," declared Dalny, also holding out his hand. Dan, too, shook hands with Surigny. Then the international plotter led the two Americans to the carriage awaiting outside.

After the Count of Surigny had waved his hand to the party and had walked away, Dalny placed Dave and Dan on the rear seat of the barouche, while he himself sat facing them.

A few words in Italian from Dalny, and the horses started. For half an hour the driver took his fares past ordinary sights.

"But we are not much interested, driver," cried Dalny, turning at last to the man who held the lines. "We are bored with this dullness, when Naples holds so much that may be seen by night. Take us through the Strada di Mara."

So the driver headed his horses toward the eastern, or older, part of the city. The Strada di Mara leads through one of the most thickly populated sections of Naples, and a part of the street extends up a steep hillside.

"You see how poor the people are here," said Dalny, as the horses slowed down to a walk. "We shall come soon, however, to a more interesting part of the street. Crime lurks here, also; not the more desperate crimes though. The Strada di Mara, in one part, is the resort of thieves who wish to dispose of their petty plunder by turning it into cash. And, as strange merchandise is dealt in here, the shops offer a variety of wares. We will presently look into one or two of the shops."

"What on earth can Dalny be driving at?" wondered young Ensign Darrin. "Can he think that we would enter such shops, and buy the plunder that thieves have sold there?"

At the next street corner an Italian lad with a sweet voice began to sing. Danny Grin noticed that most of the people in this steep, narrow alley, that was by courtesy called a street, were now going indoors. Only a man here and there remained outside.

"That's curious," thought Dan to himself. "Don't these people like music, that a street singer should drive them inside?"

When the carriage had passed on to the next block a man came out of a shop and waved his hand to the driver, who promptly reined in his horses.

"Gentlemen," urged the shop-keeper, in English, "be kind enough to step inside and look at some of the bargains I am offering."

Dave, who understood, whispered to Dalny:

"It can hardly be worth while to get out and look at what is probably stolen goods."

"On the contrary," rejoined Dalny, "this man is likely to show us some things that will help me in explaining the interesting points of Naples to you. Come!"

Opening the door of the carriage, the international plotter stepped out, leading the way. Of course Dave and Dan followed him.

It now turned out that the Italian's shop was some doors farther up along this block. As he led the way, and Dalny and the Americans followed, neither young officer observed that the driver had turned his horses around and was driving away.

At the same time, the few men now on the sidewalk of this block started to close in on the little party.

Tragedy was stepping across the threshold!

XI. Hemmed In By the Bravos

Suddenly out of a doorway lurched a big Sicilian, seemingly intoxicated.

He lurched against Dave, then drew back, scowling fiercely at the young ensign.

"Your mistake, sir," spoke Darrin, purposely using English.

Dave would have passed, but now the fellow placed himself squarely in Darrin's way.

"You have struck me!" snarled the Sicilian in his own language. "Why?"

Then, uttering a peculiar cry, the man, with a movement of wonderful swiftness, drew a knife. In the dim light that blade flashed like subdued fire.

"One, two, three—out!" gritted Dave Darrin, leaping forward.

Striking up the fellow's arm, Dave caught at the knife-wrist. He twisted it savagely and the weapon clattered to the rough pavement.

Bump! Dave struck the fellow hard between the eyes, sending him to earth, where he lay still.

Dan, now keenly alert, discovered that the pretended shop-keeper had also drawn a knife.

"To quarters!" yelled Danny Grin.

"Back to back!" shouted Dave, placing his shoulders close to his chum's. "Dan, we must fight for our lives. The lives of all these cattle are not worth a scratch on our bodies! Down 'em!"

"We'll make ten-pins of 'em," hissed Dalzell.

And Monsieur Dalny? That honorable gentleman was now scuttling down the street to safety.

The fight that followed was a mixture of boxing, football tactics and sheer Yankee grit that Dave and Dan now employed as they faced more than half a dozen scoundrels armed with the long, thin knives of the bravos of Naples.

Bump! Ensign Darrin struck up the arm of the first scoundrel to reach for him. In a twinkling Dave had broken that rascal's right wrist, forcing the fellow to drop his weapon.

Like a flash Dave caught his victim up, holding him overhead and sending the bravo, heels first, into the face of another scoundrel. The man, struck by this human missile, went to earth dazed, and with a broken jaw to boot.

Dalzell, too, was proving the stuff that was in him. Dodging a descending hand that held a knife, then landing a smashing blow over the fellow's heart, Dan sent him to earth. At that instant a knife would have gone through Danny Grin's ribs had not Dalzell let one of his feet fly with such speed and skill as to break another bravo's shin-bone.

Crouching low, Dave received still another assailant. Seizing him below the knees, then rising, he hurled the ruffian over backward on his head, the fall nearly snapping the owner's spine at the neck and leaving him unconscious.

Two more men were quickly downed, and seemed inclined to stay there. The young ensigns had not received a scratch so far, which was due as much to luck as to their own skill.

Now a wail of terror rose on the air. Two of the bravos took fairly to their heels. The rest wavered, then gave way, glaring with sullen looks at these young Americans who could fight so terribly without weapons.

"Come on!" urged Dave, in a low voice. "Let's get out of here! There is no credit in staying here and taking on more fighting. Let's hurry while the hurrying is good."

Only one of the bravos was ahead of them as the young naval officers began their sprint. That fellow was trying to get out of harm's way, but hearing pursuit at his heels, the frightened fellow halted suddenly, wheeled and struck out with his knife at Ensign Darrin.

Dave dodged, then landed both fists against the ruffian's ribs, knocking the fellow clean through a window with a great crashing of glass.

"Hustle!" muttered Dalzell, as he halted to wait for his chum. "There may be a hundred more of these fellows who can be called out on a single block."

But there was no pursuit. The bravos had had enough. Afterwards it was a matter of local report that two of the rascals handled by Darrin and Dalzell all but died of their injuries. The Strada di Mara contained no bravos reckless enough to follow these incredible Americans on this wild night of trouble.

Still sprinting, Dave, with Dan at his heels, overhauled a running figure. Dave shot out his right hand, gathering in, by the coat collar, Monsieur Dalny.

"My friend," uttered Dave grimly, as he halted the fugitive, "this does not appear to be one of your best fighting nights."

"I—I—I—" stammered M. Dalny, his face white. "I—I—"

"So you said before," Dave retorted dryly. "Let it go at that."

"Do you mean to charge that I ran away?" demanded Dalny, with a show of injured dignity.

"Certainly not," retorted Dave, ironically. "You were merely trying to show two scared Americans the shortest way back to a safe part of Naples."

"It's not safe here," whispered Dalny, trembling. "We are almost certain to be followed by an enraged mob. Let us use discretion."

The word "discretion" recalled Darrin to the fact that he must not be too rough with the fellow through whom he hoped to learn something of great interest to Admiral Timworth.

"You are right, Monsieur Dalny," agreed the young ensign. "Let us waste little time in getting away from this part of Naples."

No walk could have been too brisk, just then, for Dalny. He was not a coward in all things, but he felt a deadly terror of cold steel.

In addition, this international plotter had, just then, a lively conviction that friends of the men whom these American officers had handled so roughly might, if they overtook him, feel a decided thirst for vengeance upon the man who had led such giants against the bravos of the Strada di Mara.

"Why are you looking back so often?" Dave asked, as the three gained the next corner.

"To see if we are pursued," confessed Dalny.

"That is prudent," Darrin smiled, "yet hardly necessary."

"What do you mean?" asked the international plotter.

"Dave shot out his right hand."

"Because," explained Dan, grinning, "the only bravos who have any reason to be afraid of us to-night are those who might get in front of us. Those who keep behind us will have every chance to get away unharmed."

"You are a droll pair," muttered Dalny.

"And, unless I am greatly in error, my fine fellow, you led us into that trap for the purpose of having something bad happen to us," muttered Dave, but he kept the words behind his teeth, for he did not care, as yet, to come to an open quarrel with this fellow.

Before long the three reached one of the broader, well-lighted thoroughfares. Here they engaged a driver and carriage, and were soon once more in the Riviera di Chiaja.

As they passed one of the larger buildings, Mender, looking down upon the avenue through the blinds of a window of a room at the hotel, saw the three as they drove past an arc light.

"What can be the matter with that simpleton Dalny?" muttered the arch-plotter. "Did he, at the last moment, fail in the courage necessary to lead the Americans into the trap that I had baited for them?"

Ten minutes later Dalny, closeted with his chief, was relating to that astounded leader the story of what had happened in the Strada di Mara.

"I cannot understand it," muttered Mender.

"No more can I," rejoined Dalny. "The Americans are demons when it comes to fighting."

"At some point, my good Dalny, you must have bungled the affair."

"Why not say that the fault must have been with your choice of bravos?" jeered the subordinate. "Why did you pick out alleged bravos who would allow themselves to be put to flight by unarmed men?"

"I must wait until I have a fuller report of this night's misadventure," declared Mender. "I dare say that, within a few hours, I shall have more exact information."

In this belief Mender was quite right. Before daylight he was visited by the leader of the bravos of the Strada di Mara, who announced that he must be paid two thousand lira (about four hundred dollars) as extra money to be divided among his outraged followers.

In the case that this extra money was not forthcoming, declared the leader of the bravos, Mender and his friends might find Naples much too dangerous a city for them.

XII. Evil Eyes On Sailorman Runkle

In the center of a huge room in the Hotel dell' Orso, overlooking the Chiaja, Dave Darrin and Dalzell came to a halt.

Below they had just left Dalny in the carriage, and had come straight up to their room, which they had engaged when first they came ashore.

They had not, as one might suspect, overlooked the opportunity of finding whither Dalny drove after leaving them. For a short, broad-shouldered young man, Able Seaman Runkle, U. S. S. "Hudson," had been on the lookout for them on the sidewalk.

Runkle, by special order of Captain Allen, U. S. N., was not in uniform, but in civilian attire. In another carriage Able Seaman Runkle, at Dave's order, followed the conveyance that took Dalny back to the appointed meeting place with Mender. The sailorman's carriage did not, of course, stop when Dalny's vehicle did, but kept slowly on.

"Shadowing" is often a two-edged tool. When Runkle returned to his post he, in turn, was followed by the same dandy who had done the cane signaling late in the afternoon.

"That fellow Dalny is almost too bad medicine for me to swallow," Dan muttered with a wry smile.

"Of course he is a liar and a villain," Dave returned seriously. "But when a man is wanted to do the foulest kind of work, I suppose it must be rather hard to find a gentleman to volunteer. Probably Dalny's employers feel that they are fortunate enough in being able to obtain the services of a fellow who looks like a gentleman."

"He led us into that trap to have us assassinated," Dan declared hotly.

"Or else to have us so badly cut up that we would feel, in the future, more like minding our own business," suggested Ensign Dave with a smile.

"We got out of it all right that time," Dan went on bluntly, "but I don't want any more such experiences. The next time we might not have luck quite so much on our side."

"What puzzles me," Dave continued, wrinkling his brows, "is why Dalny or any of his crowd should want us stabbed."

"They wanted us killed," Dan insisted. "Nothing short of killing us would have satisfied those bravos if they had succeeded in getting us at their mercy. Yet why should our death be desired?"

"For only one reason," Dave answered, the truth coming to him in a flash. "Dalny is here in Naples, for which reason his white-haired fellow-plotter is probably here, too. We were sent ashore to find out if they are here. When Dalny shook hands with us this afternoon he perceived that I recognized him as one whose remarks I undoubtedly had overheard at Monte Carlo. He then concluded that I had been sent ashore to find out if he were here. He knew, or suspected, that I would report my information to the Admiral. Hence the determination to kill me, and, since you are with me, to kill you also. Our bodies would have been hidden, and the Admiral would have been able only to guess why we did not return to the ship. Dan, what hurts me most is the practical certainty that the Count of Surigny is now with that band of international cut-throats. I had hope for a nobler future for the Count, and also I am disappointed to find him working for my enemies. He must hate me fearfully because I thwarted his one-time purpose to commit suicide!"

"I wouldn't have believed the Count could be so bad," Dan mused. "Yet the proof appears to be against him."

"Why, of course he's one of their band," Dave continued. "It's a fearful thing to say, but it is plain that I saved only an ingrate and a rogue from the crime of suicide. However, Dan, we are losing time. I must begin my report to Captain Allen."

At that instant there came a slight scratching sound at the door. Tiptoeing to the door, Dalzell opened it far enough to admit Seaman Runkle, who, as soon as the door had been closed and locked, promptly saluted both young officers.

"What is your report, Runkle?" Dave demanded.

"Your party in the carriage, sir, dismissed the rig at this address," reported the sailorman, handing Ensign Darrin a slip of paper.

"You did well," Dave answered. "Find a seat, Runkle, until I have written a note which you are to take aboard to Captain Allen."

Within fifteen minutes the letter was completed. It was not a long document, but gave, in brief form, a summary of the adventures and discoveries of the two ensigns since coming ashore.

"You will take this aboard, Runkle," Dave directed, "and you will see that it reaches Captain Allen, even though he has turned in and has to be awakened. You will tell the officer of the deck, with my compliments, that such orders were given me by Captain Allen. Now, Runkle, don't let anything interfere with your speedy return to the ship. Also remember that you may be followed, and that Naples is a bad town in which to be trailed at night."

"I'm not afraid of the bad people of Naples, sir," rejoined the sailorman, with a quiet smile. "Do you expect me to return to you, sir?"

"That will be as Captain Allen directs."

"Very good, sir. Good night, sir."

Able Seaman Runkle was shown out by Ensign Dalzell, who locked the door of the room after the departing sailorman.

In the meantime a spy who had followed Runkle back to the Hotel dell' Orso had telephoned, in a foreign language little understood in Naples, the information concerning that sailorman's reporting to his officers, and had added the suggestion that very likely the sailor would be sent out to the fleet with a written report.

"I think it highly probable that the sailor will be sent with a written report," agreed Mender, at the other end of the telephone wire.

"And if the sailor does try to get out to the fleet?" insinuated the spy.

"If the man leaves the hotel to go to the water front," commanded Mender, in a voice ringing with energy and passion, "see to it that he is laid low and that the letter is taken from him. At any cost I must have turned over to me any written report that Ensign Darrin tries to send to his commanding officer. Nor am I through with Darrin himself!"

XIII. Orders Change in a Minute

"Hullo! What does that fellow want?"

Able seaman Runkle was within a block of the mole where the "Hudson's" launch was due to cast off at half-past ten o'clock, but he halted in his tracks.

From a doorway, a little nearer to the mole, a head was thrust out slightly as its owner surveyed the sailorman.

Then the man stepped out of the doorway to the sidewalk. He was a big fellow, with something of the slouch and swagger that are to be observed in the tough the world over.

Now this stranger stood quite still, sharply regarding the pausing sailorman.

"If there are less than six of that breed ahead of me," muttered Runkle, staring ahead once more, "then it doesn't make any real difference."

Two more men slipped out of dark recesses further on, while, an instant later, Runkle became aware that two men, who had not been visible a few moments before, were now closing up behind him.

"I wonder what these chaps think they're going to do," mused Runkle, his sailor heart quaking not at all, though he scented fight in the air. "Hullo!"

Now a sixth man stepped out from a doorway just at his side. With a lusty push this sixth man sent Runkle out into the street.

"Where are your manners, my man?" demanded Seaman Runkle, returning to the sidewalk. "And what do you mean by that?"

Suddenly the muzzle of a revolver gleamed in Runkle's face, but the sailor did not betray any sign of fright.

"Put that down!" ordered Runkle sharply, at the same time making a gesture to indicate his command.

A reply was volubly given in Italian, of which Runkle understood not a word.

In the few seconds that this was happening the five other swarthy men began to close in on the sailor. Runkle lost no time in discovering that fact.

A gesture from the man with the pistol showed that he expected Runkle to hold up his hands.

"You'd rather see my mitts aloft, eh?" asked the sailor, in a mocking voice. "All right, then!"

Up went the sailor's hands, as high as he could raise them. A gleam of satisfaction shone in the eyes behind the revolver, but that look instantly changed to one of pain.

For Runkle, while holding his hands high, also raised one of his feet. That foot went up swiftly, and high enough to land against the lower edge of the bravo's pistol wrist. In a jiffy the wrist was broken and the pistol came clattering to the pavement.

"Much obliged," offered Runkle, snatching up the weapon. Then he raised his voice to yell:

"If there are shipmates within hail let 'em hurry here to keep Jack Runkle from killing a few rattlesnakes!"

Just in time to escape the points of two knives, Seaman Runkle backed against a stucco wall, thrusting out the revolver and his able left fist.

The first two men who leaped at him went down under the impact of that fist. A third received a scalp wound from the butt of the revolver. Any court would have exonerated the sailorman for killing his assailants, but Dave's messenger was much too good-natured to kill while there was another path to safety.

That kindliness undid Runkle's defense. As a man rushed him on each side a third bravo dropped low in front of him and seized the seaman's legs, upsetting him.

"Foul tackle, with a dozen to one!" growled Runkle, as he felt himself going down.

Still he laid about, freeing his feet and using them while he plied his left fist and struck out with the revolver. Even now he did not want to press the trigger of the weapon, which was soon snatched away from him.

With hoarse cries, several of the bravos now held the sailor so that he could barely squirm.

Swiftly moving fingers roamed rapidly through his pockets. Then one of the cowardly assailants snatched out of one of Runkle's pockets a letter, muttering a few words to his companions.

Striking a match the thief glanced at the address on the envelope. Even if he knew no English he could discern that the envelope was addressed to Captain Allen of the "Hudson."

With another quick word the thief vanished through a doorway. Up from the enraged sailor leaped those who had been holding him down.

"Sheer off there! Belay! belay!" growled several hoarse voices. Rushing up, cat-footed, came a dozen or more fresh-faced, husky young jackies from the fleet.

"Come on, mates! The maccaroni-eaters are sneaking away!" yelled the foremost of the rescue party, that had come from the mole in answer to Runkle's call.

Only two of the Italians were slow enough to be overtaken and manhandled by the jackies. The rest of the assailants vanished swiftly into near-by houses, the doors to which were instantly closed and bolted.

For perhaps twenty seconds the two captured bravos were badly used. Then, thoroughly cowed, they were allowed to slip away.

"What happened to you, shipmate?" demanded one of the rescuers.

"Enough!" growled Runkle. "They got my money."

"Much?"

"All I had."

"Tough luck," declared one of the sailors.

"The chap who has your money surely got away before we could reach him."

"I've got to get aboard the flagship as soon as I can," exclaimed Able Seaman Runkle ruefully.

"The launch leaves in ten minutes, mate," volunteered another. "Those of us who are going aboard will now do well to get back to the mole."

So Jack Runkle departed with his rescuers, but his eyes flashed the vengeance he would take should he meet his despoiler again.

On the way out to the flagship Runkle sat silent and out of the run of talk that was going on around him.

Going up over the side of the "Hudson," Runkle reported himself on board, and then added to the officer of the watch, Lieutenant Totten:

"I've a message for the Captain, sir, and have orders to report to him immediately on coming aboard."

"Orders from an officer of this ship?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'll send an orderly to see if the Captain is still awake," replied Lieutenant Totten.

"I beg your pardon, sir," Runkle persisted, "but I have orders to say that Captain Allen, by his own request, is to be called, if necessary, sir, in order to hear my message."

"Very good," nodded Lieutenant Totten, and turned to an orderly, sending him to Captain Allen's quarters.

"The Captain will see Seaman Runkle at once," the orderly reported a few moments later.

Saluting Lieutenant Totten, Runkle turned and hastily presented himself before the door of the Captain's quarters.

"You have something to report, Runkle?" questioned Captain Allen, seating himself at his desk.

"Yes, sir. Ensign Darrin gave me a letter to bring to you, sir. It may interest you, sir, to know that on my way back to the ship I was attacked near the mole by a mob of cut-throats. One of them held me up with a revolver, but I got it away from him. Then they all attacked me, and soon had me down, sir. One of the rascals took all my money and a letter addressed to you."

"Took Ensign Darrin's letter away from you?" demanded Captain Allen, looking, as he felt, a good deal disturbed.

"No, sir; not Ensign Darrin's letter, sir," replied Able Seaman Runkle, with just a shadow of a grin. "It was a letter addressed to you, but I have reason to believe, sir, that Ensign Darrin's letter is still safe. If you'll permit me, sir, I'll look for the ensign's letter where I placed it, after leaving the ensign and before quitting the hotel."

Captain Allen at once nodded his permission. Runkle partly undressed, then explored the place where he had concealed Dave's letter.

"What was the other letter addressed to me that was taken away from you, Runkle?" questioned the captain, while the search was going on.

"It wasn't really a letter, sir," the sailorman replied, this time with a very broad grin. "It was just an envelope addressed to you, and filled with blank paper."

"Who addressed that envelope?"

"I did, sir."

"And why?"

"Because I thought that Ensign Darrin's letter might be important, and I had an idea that some skulking sneaks might try to take it away from me."

Then Runkle, having put his clothing in order, stepped towards Captain Allen, holding out an envelope.

"I think, sir, you'll find that this is Ensign Darrin's letter, and that it's just as he gave it to me, sir."

Captain Allen hastily broke the seal, took out the enclosure, and read rapidly, a frown gathering on his face all the while.

"Runkle," cried the Captain, springing up and placing a hand on the sailorman's shoulder, "did Ensign Darrin suggest to you the ruse that fooled your assailants?"

"No, sir."

"You did it on your own initiative?"

"I—I did it out of my own head, sir, if that means the same thing," replied the puzzled sailor slowly.

"It does mean the same thing," continued Captain Allen, "and, Runkle, I'm proud of you. That's a good headpiece you have on your shoulders, and I shall make note of it on your record. You have shown good judgment. You have a head fitted to meet difficulties. You may look for promotion in the near future."

"Have I your permission, sir, to ask if that was Ensign Darrin's letter and if it was in good order?" asked Runkle.

"It was, my man, thanks to your intelligent and courageous performance of duty. Runkle, how much money did the bravos take from you?"

"Eighteen dollars in real money, sir, and about two dollars in lira money."

Sailors sometimes call the Italian money "lira money," because the lire, which is worth about the same as the French franc, or twenty cents, is the common unit of Italian currency. "Lira" is the plural of "lire."

"I am afraid you don't like the Italian money very well, Runkle," smiled Captain Allen.

"I don't, sir, and I don't like the people of this country any better. Not after the beating I got to-night."

"That wasn't the fault of the Italian people, Runkle," declared the Captain. "Toughs in New York would use you at least as badly as did the bravos ashore to-night. The Italian people themselves are very friendly to us, and the government does all in its power to show its friendship for our country. If I were to send ashore complaint of your being attacked to-night the police would dragnet the city in an effort to find the men who attacked you, and, if found, it would go hard with them. But for reasons that I cannot explain to you, no complaint will be made. I do not wish the Italian police to know what took place to-night. As to the money that you lost, I will have you make affidavit before the paymaster, to-morrow, and will see that the money is repaid to you. Runkle, you may tell your mates anything you like about the fight, but do not mention the fact to any one, that you bore with you and were searched by bravos for a letter from Ensign Darrin."

"Very good, sir."

"That is all, Runkle. You may go, but remember that I have you in mind as a man of good and quick judgment, and as one who has the courage to carry his duty through in the face of any obstacles."

"Thank you, sir."

Saluting, the sailorman left the Captain's quarters. A minute later Captain Allen sent an orderly to the Admiral. Three minutes later Admiral Timworth received the commanding officer of the flagship.

Quickly Captain Allen placed Dave's letter in his superior officer's hands.

"This is live news, indeed," cried the Admiral, as he laid the letter down. "Darrin and Dalzell are doing clever work."

"But their work is suspected, sir, as the letter shows. Moreover, the fellow spies of Gortchky and Dalny are shadowing our two young officers ashore, for the messenger who brought this letter was attacked by bravos. Our messenger was robbed of his money and of a faked letter with which the sailor had provided himself."

Captain Allen then repeated Runkle's story.

"You have Runkle slated for promotion, of course?" asked Admiral Timworth.

"Certainly, sir."

"A man like Runkle, if he keeps to his present promise, should go as high in the Navy as it is possible for an enlisted man to go," declared the Admiral. "But, Captain, the organization and desperation of our country's enemies worry me. It is plain that some very desperate scheme is afoot for making trouble between England and our country. That would drag us in against all of the Entente Allies if the success of the plot should involve us in war with England at this time. The proposed sinking of a British warship is the inkling we have had, but the real scheme may be something else. The first clue of all that we had, even before Darrin and Dalzell came aboard at Gibraltar, came from the American Embassy at Paris. Our Ambassador, under orders from Washington, has our secret service at work there, which keeps our government directly in touch with many of the doings of international plotters. It seems to me highly important that Ensign Darrin should be detached long enough from this ship to be sent to Paris, where he should repeat to our Ambassador all that he knows, and give close descriptions of the spies with whom he has come in contact. Having made his report, Darrin can return to the ship at Genoa, which will be our next port of call in these waters."

"Would you send Mr. Darrin alone, sir?" asked Captain Allen. "He might be trailed and again attacked. Would it not be far better for Ensign Dalzell to go with him?"

"Yes, and perhaps it may be as well for Runkle to go, too, as their orderly," replied the Admiral, after a moment's hesitation. "There is a train leaving for Paris at four in the morning. Where is Lieutenant Totten?"

"He will be off watch in an hour, sir."

"Let Lieutenant Totten go ashore to carry my written instructions to Ensign Darrin. I will enclose the necessary funds in an envelope with my instructions. Totten, on his return to the ship, will be able to assure me that the communication reached Ensign Darrin safely, and that Darrin, after reading my instructions, which will be brief, tore up and burned my letter."

"Shall I send Runkle ashore in uniform or in citizen's dress?" asked Captain Allen.

"In citizen's clothes, as before," replied Admiral Timworth. "I will call my flag lieutenant. Kindly see that the paymaster is sent to me, Captain."

Fifteen minutes later the Admiral's letter of instruction had been signed, and a substantial amount of money enclosed.

On coming off deck duty at eight bells, midnight, Lieutenant Totten was instructed to order a launch alongside. Then, with the bulky envelope in an inner pocket, and accompanied by Seaman Runkle, Totten went over the side.

A few minutes later the launch delivered them at the mole, then glided out into the bay.

"I hope we shan't run into a gang of hoodlums again," said the sailorman respectfully.

"I have my revolver with me," smiled the lieutenant. "The Italian police would feel grateful if I sank its six bullets into six bravos of Naples."

XIV. Dan Has Very "Cold Feet"

Rap-tap!

That sound brought Dave Darrin out of a sound sleep. Dan slumbered on.

"Who's there at this hour of the night?" asked Dave, through the door, in the best Italian he could muster.

"From the 'Hudson,'" came the answer, in a voice so low that Dave did not recognize it.

"One minute, then."

Dave slipped back, shaking his chum to rouse him, then drew the curtains around Dalzell's bed.

In record time Dave drew on his own shirt, slipped into trousers, put on collar, cuffs and tie, and followed this with coat and vest.

Then he stepped to the door, opening it. Repressing his natural cry of astonishment, Dave silently admitted his visitors, next closed and locked the door.

"Orders from the Admiral," said Lieutenant Totten, in an undertone, and passed over the envelope.

Stepping under the light which he had hastily turned on, Darrin read his orders.

"Read this, Dan," said Dave, passing the letter of instructions to his chum, who was now also fully dressed. "Then I will read it once more, after which we will burn it."

"Suits me," commented Dan, when he had finished and was passing back the letter. "I've always wanted to see Paris."

"You won't see much of it this time," smiled Ensign Dave. "This is business, and nothing else."

Then Dave tore the letter into strips. Taking these to the open fireplace he set fire to them. All three officers watched until the letter had been completely burned.

"And now," Dave continued, "I will mix this charred paper thoroughly with the ashes that, fortunately, are left in the grate."

When he had finished, the mixing had been done so well that they would be keen eyes, indeed, that could note the presence of minute particles of burned paper in the grate's contents. His next act was to telephone the hotel clerk to send up a time-table.

"We have plenty of time, yet," smiled Darrin, glancing at his watch, after he had finished consulting the time-table. "It won't be the height of comfort to travel to Paris without baggage. However, when we get there we can buy anything that we may need."

"It will be great to shop in Paris," cried Dan, his eyes gleaming.

"Don't get the idea that we are going to do any running about in Paris," Dave warned his chum.

"Not even if we have some idle time there?"

"Not even then," Dave answered. "I am very sure that neither the Admiral nor the Ambassador would wish us to show ourselves much at the French capital. We might thereby attract the attention of spies."

"That is true," agreed Lieutenant Totten.

Business being now attended to, Dave and Dan had time to finish dressing comfortably. Then followed a period of waiting. Later the hotel clerk was asked to summon an automobile. In this the Paris-bound party, including Runkle, left the hotel, Totten accompanying them.

No sooner, however, had the American party left the hotel than an Italian, crouching in the shadow of a building further along on the same block, whispered to his companion:

"Telephone Signor Dalny for instructions."

Within three minutes a second automobile rolled up to the hotel.

"To the railway station first, on the chance of finding the Americans there," the spy called to the driver.

Dave's party did not have long to wait at the station. Totten remained with them to the last, however, that he might be able to report a safe start to the Admiral.

"Don't look, sir, but coming up behind you, I am certain, is a fellow I saw on the street outside the hotel just before we started," reported Seaman Runkle.

"Then we are being trailed," Dave said.

Not until the time came for starting did Lieutenant Totten shake hands hurriedly with his brother officers and leave them, though he still stood near the train.

Dave and Dan sprang into their compartment in one of the cars, Able Seaman Runkle following more slowly.

"There's that spy fellow getting on the running-board further down the train, sir," whispered Runkle.

"I expected him," answered Dave dryly.

"Would you like to lose him, sir?"

"Off the train altogether, do you mean, Runkle?"

"Yes, sir."

"Can you put him off without hurting him?"

"I think I can get him off, sir, without even scraping one of his knuckles."

"You're at liberty to try, Runkle, if you are sure you won't injure the man."

As the guard came along, locking the doors, Runkle leaped down to the ground.

"Help, Mr. Totten, help!" called the seaman in a low voice that none the less reached the ears of the departing lieutenant.

Then Runkle moved directly up to the spy leering into his face and making insulting signs that caused the fellow to flush red.

"You're no good—savvy?" insisted Runkle in a low tone, making more faces and gestures.

So quickly was it done that the now thoroughly insulted spy, though he did not understand English, leaped at Runkle in a rage.

"He's going to try to rob me, sir!" cried Runkle, not very effectively dodging the blows that the fellow aimed at him.

"Here, what are you up to?" demanded Totten, also in English, as he reached out to grab the spy's collar.

In that strong grip the spy writhed, but could not escape.

"Thank you, sir," cried Runkle, with an unmistakable wink, after which he raced for the car and the compartment in which the two young ensigns waited.

"Lieutenant Totten is holding on to the chap, sir," announced Runkle gleefully. "He won't let him go until the train's out, either."

Holding the unlocked door open a crack, Dan Dalzell watched as the train pulled away from the station.

"Totten has him, and is explaining to a policeman," Dalzell chuckled. "That spy doesn't travel with us this trip."

"What's the odds?" asked Darrin, after a pause. "Dalny must belong to a big and clever organization. He can wire ahead to spies who will board the train later on and follow us into Paris."

"Then, with your leave, sir, I'll keep my eye open for spies until we're back aboard the flagship," suggested Runkle.

"Very good, so long as you break neither laws nor bones, Runkle," Dave laughed.

The Americans had the compartment to themselves. Had all been in uniform Runkle would not have been likely to travel in the same compartment with the young officers, but in citizen's dress much of discipline could be waived for greater safety.

Though Dan Dalzell did not now have much hope of sight-seeing in Paris, he was able, after dozing until daylight, to gaze interestedly out upon the country through which he was traveling.

Able Seaman Runkle was another absorbed window-gazer. As for Ensign Dave Darrin, while he caught many interesting glimpses of the scenery, his mind was mainly on the question of how the international plotters were planning to break the friendship between the two strongest nations on earth.

By what means could these plotters sink a British ship, and yet make it appear to be the work of Americans?

Hundreds of miles had been traveled, and one day had swung far on into another before a plausible answer came to Darrin's mind.

Then Dave fairly jumped—the thing that Admiral Timworth so dreaded now looked quite easy.

"What's the matter?" asked Dan, staring at his chum.

"Why?" countered Dave.

"You jumped so hard," Dan replied.

"I was thinking."

"Stop it!" advised Danny Grin. "A little harder thinking than that might wreck the train."

Dalzell enjoyed every hour of the journey. In the daylight hours he was busy "taking in" all the country through which the train passed. In the evening hours, Dan was outside on the platform, at every station, to watch the crowds, large or small.

As for Seaman Runkle, that splendid lad was absorbed, almost to the point of gloom, in watching at every station for a sign of a spy on the train with them.

Before they reached the French-Italian frontier Dave realized, with a start, that Admiral Timworth had failed to provide them with such credentials as would probably be called for in crossing the Italian-French frontier, and that they had forgotten to ask for such papers. However, at the frontier stop their friend Dandelli, the Italian naval officer, in uniform, almost ran into them. He was glad to vouch for the pair to the French and Italian guards at that point, and, after some hesitation, Dave and Dan were allowed to proceed into France.

"But be careful to have proper papers when returning, if you come this way," Dandelli smilingly warned them.

It was seven o'clock on the second morning after leaving Naples when the express reached Paris.

Hardly had the train stopped when Darrin and Dalzell were out and moving through the station. Seaman Runkle kept at a distance behind them, his sharp eyes searching for any signs of spies. But Runkle was able to make no report of success when he stepped into the taxicab in which his superior officers sat.

Danny Grin was again busy with his eyes as the taxicab darted through the beautiful streets of the French capital.

"What are you laughing at?" Dave asked suddenly, noting that Dan's grin was even wider than usual.

"Paris strikes me that way—that's all I can tell you," drawled Dan.

"Do you consider Paris a joke?" demanded Darrin.

"Of course not. But Paris has the name of being such a gay town—in peace times, of course. But at this early hour the city looks actually gray to me. If the look of the city doesn't improve, later in the day, I can't understand how any one can feel like being gay."

"Paris and the world have managed well enough, in the past, to combine for gayety," Dave replied. "Just now, of course, with all the men thinking of war, and so many women wearing black for dear ones they've lost at the front, the city can't show much of its former gayety. Paris is going through her ordeal of fire. These are dark days for good old France!"

Suddenly Dan's face fell grave.

"Now, what's the matter?" quizzed Darrin.

"I've just had a horrible thought," Dan confessed. "You haven't been concealing from me, have you, the fact that, though you had no frontier passport you have a letter or some form of credentials to the American Ambassador?"

"I haven't anything of the sort," Dave rejoined, he, too, now looking grave.

"A fine lay-out this is, then," growled Danny Grin. "Here we are, going to the American Ambassador on a matter of the utmost delicacy. We are going to tell him and ask him some of the secrets of the United States government, and we haven't a scrap of paper to introduce us. Do you realize what we'll get? The Johnny-run-quick! We'll get the balluster slide, the ice-pitcher greeting! Dave, we're going to land hard on the sidewalk right in front of the Embassy. And then some frog-eating, Johnny Crapaud policeman will gather us in as disorderly persons! Fine!"

XV. At the American Embassy

As the taxicab dashed around a corner Dave raised his cap.

"Well, this must be our destination," he announced. "I've just saluted Old Glory as it flutters over the building."

The taxicab came to a stop before a handsome building.

On each side of the posts of the gateway stood a brass shield on which was the inscription:

"Embassy of the United States of America."

Very gravely Dan and Runkle followed Dave, each raising his hat to the Flag as soon as his feet touched the sidewalk.

"There's a carriage entrance below," said Dave, "but we'll take the plain way and walk in."

Paying and dismissing the taxicab driver, Dave led the way to the entrance.

"A naval party to see the Ambassador, at his convenience, on business," Dave announced to the attendant at the door.

They were shown to an anteroom near the door, where they were soon joined by a Mr. Lupton, who introduced himself as Second Secretary to the Embassy.

"The ambassador, Mr. Caine, will not be here before nine o'clock," announced Mr. Lupton. "I know that you are expected. You have not breakfasted?"

"No," Dave confessed.

"Then I will ask you to let me be host. Before I lead the way I will ring for some one to see that your sailorman is well taken care of."

Five minutes later Darrin and Dalzell were seated at a small breakfast table with Mr. Lupton.

"Just before reaching here," began Dave, "it occurred to Mr. Dalzell and myself that we have, beyond our card-cases, no means of identification. Can you tell us how Mr. Caine will be sure that he is talking with the right persons?"

"I believe that will be arranged all right," smiled Mr. Lupton. "I, too, have taken you gentlemen on trust, but presently, I believe, we are going to be satisfied."

Two minutes later there stalked into the room a tall, handsome young man whose navy uniform set off his good figure to great advantage.

"Jetson?" exclaimed Dave, rising.

"The same," smiled the newcomer, advancing and holding out his hand.

He and Dave shook hands heartily, after which Dan came in for a similar greeting.

Readers of the Annapolis series will recall Jetson as being a fellow member of the Brigade of Midshipmen with Darrin and Dalzell at the U. S. Naval Academy. At one time, there, Dave and Jetson had not been good friends, but Dave had, at the very great risk of his own life, saved Jetson from drowning. Now, the two young officers were on excellent terms.

"I understand, now, what was darkness to me before," murmured Dave, after Jetson had seated himself at table. "Admiral Timworth knew that you were here, Jetson, and able to identify us."

"I have been here for three months," explained Jetson, smiling, "doing some work to assist the naval attaché of this Embassy, Commander Tupper. I have had three months of the hardest work in this old capital, but now, confound it, my work here has ended and I'm ordered to join my ship. The bridge and the quarter-deck are places of boredom to a fellow who has seen what I've seen here. Why, I've even made two trips up to the front—one of them to Verdun."

"Lucky dog!" cried Danny Grin, with feeling. "So you've seen some of the big fighting!"

"It may be well to state that I know fully the business on which you are ordered here," Jetson continued, "so you may mention it freely before me if you are so inclined."

"Then can you tell me," Dave asked, "if it is known how our enemies propose to sink a British warship and make it appear to be the work of someone in the American Navy?"

"I cannot," Jetson replied. "In fact, it was only on receipt of a wireless from near Monte Carlo that the Ambassador had any knowledge that the international plotters intended to attempt the destruction of a British warship as a means for creating bad feeling between the two countries. The whole plot seems foolishly improbable to me."

"It doesn't seem so to me, any longer," rejoined Dave.

"Then you must know some thing that I haven't heard about," murmured Jetson curiously.

"Mr. Darrin," broke in Mr. Lupton, "I will be the Ambassador's authority for you to speak as freely of the matter as you choose."

Dave and Dan thereupon told all that had befallen them at Monte Carlo and at Naples.

"But still," Jetson broke in perplexedly, "how is the sinking of a British warship to be brought about with safety to the plotters, and how is the crime to be laid at the door of the American Navy?"

"I wish to speak to the Ambassador on that point before I mention it to any one else," Dave answered.

"Have you told Dalzell?" pressed Jetson.

"I have not."

"He certainly hasn't," complained Danny Grin sadly. "Dave always tells me after he has told every one else."

"Danny boy," Dave rebuked him, "where do you hope to go after you die?"

"Paris," Dalzell answered promptly.

Breakfast lasted until word came that the Ambassador was ready to receive the two young officers from the flagship of the Mediterranean Fleet. Then Jetson left his friends.

Mr. Caine, to whom Mr. Lupton presently introduced the ensigns, was a man in his fifties, rather bald, and with a decided stoop in his shoulders. At home he was a manufacturer of barbed wire, and his business, as Danny later suggested, had perhaps helped to give him some of his keenness and sharpness. He was slenderly fashioned, and reminded one, at first, of a professor in a minor college.

It was when the Ambassador transacted business that some of his sterling qualities came out. He was recognized as being one of the cleverest and ablest of American diplomats.

"I am glad to meet you, gentlemen," said the Ambassador, shaking hands with Dave and Dan and then motioning them to seats, which an attendant placed for them. "Mr. Lupton, you have doubtless had Jetson's assurance that these young men are the persons they claim to be?"

"Yes, sir," Lupton rejoined.

"Then tell me all you can of this matter," urged Mr. Caine.

At a look from Second Secretary Lupton, the attendant withdrew from the room. Dave and Dan were soon deep in the narration of events in which they participated at Monte Carlo and at Naples.

"I know the young Comte of Surigny," remarked Mr. Caine, "and I am deeply disappointed to learn that he is among our foes, and in such a mean capacity as the one in which he must be employed. The young man comes from one of the most ancient families in France, though he has never been well-to-do, for his ancestors attended to the insuring of his poverty. The gambling streak has run through several generations of the family."

Then Dave and Dan continued with their story, Ambassador Caine paying close attention to all they said.

"Gortchky is expected in Paris soon," announced the Ambassador presently.

"Is he, sir?" Darrin asked quickly. "Would it be indiscreet for me to ask if you know why he is coming here?"

"I have nothing more definite than suspicion," replied Mr. Caine. "Paris, which has one of the best detective systems of the world, is also noted as being the principal headquarters for conspiracies against governments. Not only do the anarchists and nihilists look upon Paris as their Mecca; but other scoundrels working out nefarious plans for wicked governments also meet here to lay their dastardly plots. Gortchky may be coming here to secure new agents to take the place of those already known to the Americans who are watching him and his men; or he may be coming here to hold a conference with the men higher up, who are directing his scoundrelly work against the peace of England and America."

"I take it, sir, that your secret service men will make every effort to find out what Gortchky does in Paris, and for what real purpose he is here, and—"

Here Ensign Dave Darrin broke off abruptly, coloring deeply.

"I beg your pardon, sir," he apologized hurriedly. "I had no right to ask you such a question."

"I have no objection to answering you," said the Ambassador seriously. "Of course my men will make every effort to find out what Gortchky is up to here, if he comes to Paris, but I do not know how well they will succeed. In the game of making trouble between nations Emil Gortchky is an old and wary bird. It may very likely be that the fellow is coming to Paris only to try to draw my secret service men into the worst kind of a wild-goose chase leading only to clues that are worse than worthless. Gortchky, in other words, may be on his way to Paris only to draw our attention away from vital moves about to be made elsewhere by other members of his rascally band. Of course, on due complaint, we could have him arrested as a spy, and it would go hard with him here in Paris before a military court. But in that case there are others in the band of plotters whom we do not know and cannot locate. So, for very good reasons, we prefer to have Gortchky at large."

"I would like immensely to see Gortchky in Paris," Dave muttered.

"Perhaps you will have your wish," replied Mr. Caine, with an odd smile.

Soon after that the interview came to an end, but Dave and Dan remained in the Embassy building through the day. An attendant was sent out to get them what they needed in linen and other small items.

Dinner was to be served at seven o'clock, and, as Mr. Caine did not wish the presence of the young officers from the Mediterranean Fleet in his house to be known, it was arranged that they should dine in a smaller room alone with Mr. Lupton.

At six, however, the Ambassador sent in haste for Dave to come to his office.

"That invitation doesn't seem to include me," remarked Dalzell, rather ruefully, as he glanced up from a book he was reading in the Embassy library.

"I'm afraid it doesn't," Dave returned.

Mr. Caine was at his office desk, holding a telegram sheet in his hand.

"Gortchky is expected in town at 7.30 this evening, Mr. Darrin," announced the Ambassador.

"Is there anything that I can do in this matter, sir?" Darrin asked, after a pause.

"You may go and watch for Gortchky, if you think it possible to do so without his detecting you," Mr. Caine replied slowly.

"The opportunity would delight me beyond measure," Dave rejoined quickly. "I suppose I had better take a taxicab that I may be ready to give effective chase in case Emil Gortchky uses that kind of transportation."

"I can supply you with a taxicab and with a chauffeur who can be trusted," replied the Ambassador. "The driver I have in mind is a highly intelligent fellow who has many times been employed by me. And you can dismiss him at any point, or retain him as long as you wish. The bill for the taxicab charges will be sent to the Embassy. How soon do you wish to have this taxicab here?"

"Perhaps I should have it at once," Dave replied. "Gortchky would know me in these clothes at first glance, so it would be advantageous if I arranged to disguise myself. On the streets, as we came here, I noticed not a few young men wearing baggy suits of clothes of most un-American cut. They wore also flowing neckties, and some of them had blue eyeglasses. There are so many of these young men about that one more would hardly attract Gortchky's attention. That style of dress would make a good disguise for me."

"The young men you describe are largely students and artists," replied the Ambassador. "A disguise of that kind would be less conspicuous than any other."

"Then, sir, if the chauffeur can come here soon, he will have time to take me to stores where I can get the articles of apparel I need, and I shall still have plenty of time to meet Emil Gortchky if he reaches Paris this evening. I will go and tell Mr. Dalzell about Gortchky being expected to arrive here to-night."

"Tell Mr. Dalzell if you wish, but you had better not take him with you," replied Mr. Caine. "Two young men would attract more attention than one. I am approving of your undertaking this because, to date, you have learned more about this conspiracy than any three of the secret service men whom I have at my orders."

Dave hurried away to Dan, who was highly disappointed at being left out of the evening's work.

"But I have the joke on you, anyway," Danny Grin suddenly declared.

"How so?" asked Dave.

"I shall have my dinner," laughed Dalzell; "you won't have any."

"I could forget my meals for three whole days to stay on the trail of Gortchky," Dave answered, simply.

Then he hurried out, for the arrival of the taxicab was now announced. Darrin had a minute's conversation with the chauffeur, after which he entered the car.

One thing the young ensign quickly discovered, and that was that on the smooth pavements of Paris, and in the well-ordered traffic, taxicabs travel at a high rate of speed. Within five minutes he had been set down at the door of a shop in which he found it possible to buy every item of his disguise, even to shoes, for Darrin suddenly remembered that his footwear was plainly American.

In fifteen minutes more Dave Darrin emerged from the store. In one hand he carried his discarded clothing, packed in a new bag, which he turned over to the chauffeur for safe keeping. All of his money, except a small sum, he had left behind at the Embassy.

If any policeman had seen him enter the shop and come out again presenting so changed an appearance, and if for that reason the policeman should question him under the impression that Darrin might be a spy, Dave decided that he would rely upon his chauffeur to declare that he had been hired at the American Embassy. That statement would remove suspicion.

"You had better kill time for a few minutes," Dave explained to the chauffeur, who understood English. "It is not desirable to reach the railway station earlier than 7.20."

Accordingly the young ensign enjoyed a brief, rapid panoramic view of a considerable part of Paris. The driver, accustomed to taking Americans about who were strangers in the city, frequently turned his head to offer information as to the places or points of interest that they were passing.

"It's a shame that Danny boy isn't here to enjoy all this," Dave told himself. "Even this way of seeing Paris would be a great treat to him."

Almost to the second of 7.20 the taxicab drew up as one of a long line of similar vehicles under the bright lights of the railway station.

Alighting, Ensign Darrin, feeling rather well concealed in his disguise, and looking out through his blue-lensed eyeglasses, strolled about, careful not to saunter into the most brilliantly lighted spots.

Presently he heard a train enter the station. A thin stream of passengers filtered out. Dave promptly shifted his position and watched the arrivals, who later came out in a more compact throng.

And there was Emil Gortchky, at last, with no more marked hand luggage than a light cane, which he swung jauntily.

"I hope you don't look my way, my fine bird!" uttered Ensign Darrin under his breath. "But if you do, your observation won't do you much good."

A hand beckoned from a taxicab. Emil Gortchky, who had been on the lookout, sauntered over to the vehicle and clasped the hand of M. le Comte de Surigny.

"Surigny, the ungrateful!" uttered Dave disgustedly to himself. "I induced you to spare your own worthless life, and then when you found life sweet once more, you turned against me! I hope you did not notice me as you sat in that cab."

By this time Dave was at the side step of his own taxicab. A few words to the chauffeur, and he entered.

Surigny's cab drew out of the line, gliding away. The one in which Dave sat gave chase at a cautious distance.

Soon the speed of the leading cab increased, and the pursuing one followed at the same speed. After a considerable run both cabs turned into the broad, well-lighted Boulevard Haussman. For some blocks both cabs ran along. Then the one ahead turned in before an imposing-looking building with a gleaming white marble front.

"The Grand Prix Club," explained Dave's chauffeur, glancing back as he stopped on the other side of the boulevard some distance to the rear.

It was the Count of Surigny who left the cab, which then started forward.

"Is there gambling going on in that club?" asked Darrin, as his man started the car forward again.

"Naturally," replied the chauffeur, shrugging his shoulders.

"It is easy to understand, then," Dave muttered to himself. "Poor Surigny is no longer his own master in anything, for he is a slave to the gambling craze that ruins so many lives. Gortchky furnishes the young man with money for gambling—lends it to him, of course, and thus keeps the Count desperately in his debt. And so the young Count has to do, when required, the bidding of the scoundrel who gloats over the helplessness of his dupe. Poor Surigny!"

Into less handsome avenues and streets the taxicabs now turned. Then a distinctly shabby looking part of Paris was unfolded to the gaze of the young naval officer.

"The Rue d'Ansin," announced the chauffeur, at last.

"A bad street?" Dave inquired.

"Yes."

"The haunt of criminals?"

"Criminals are seen here," the chauffeur explained, "but their real lurking places are in some of the alleys, farther along, that lead off from the Rue d'Ansin. Late at night, monsieur, it is better to ride through this street than to be afoot on the sidewalk!"

"Is it the part of Paris where one would come to meet or to confer with desperate criminals?" Dave asked.

"Many of the Apaches live hereabouts," replied the chauffeur, with another shrug.

Dave had read of these dangerous thugs, the so-called "Apaches," native toughs of Paris, who commit many bold robberies on the streets by night, and even, sometimes, by day, and who seldom hesitate to kill a victim or a policeman if murder will render their own escape sure.

To an observer the Apache appears to be equally without fear and without conscience. The Apache is many degrees more dangerous than his more cowardly cousin, the "gun-man" of New York.

"I hope you will not have to take to the streets here, Monsieur," said the chauffeur.

"If I have to do that, I am not afraid to take a chance," Darrin answered, imitating the Frenchman's shrug with his own broad shoulders.

Ahead, Gortchky's taxicab was slowing down, and the pursuing vehicle did the same. Dave peered about to see if some one were waiting to be taken up by Gortchky, but, instead, Gortchky descended.

"Drive close to the curb on the other side of the street," whispered Darrin. "Merely slow down so that I may slip to the sidewalk. Then go ahead, waiting for me around the corner two blocks away."

"One block away would be better, Monsieur," urged the chauffeur.

"Make it two," Dave insisted crisply.

Stepping out on the running board, Dave leaned well forward, thus making it possible to close the door of his car as it slowed down. Then, as Dave stepped to the sidewalk, the taxicab moved forward more rapidly.

Searching in an inner pocket, Emil Gortchky, down the street on the other side, did not look up, and apparently did not observe the maneuver on the part of Dave's chauffeur. Dave slipped quickly into a darkened doorway, from which he could watch the international spy with little danger of being observed.

Taking out a little packet of papers, and moving toward a street lamp, Gortchky selected one of the papers, thrusting the rest back into his pocket. As he did so, one white bit fluttered to the sidewalk.

Reading under the street lamp the paper he had selected, Gortchky put that particular paper in another pocket. Then he turned abruptly, plunging into the depths of an alley-like street.

Sauntering slowly across the street, in order not to attract too much attention from other passers on the badly lighted Rue d'Ansin, Ensign Darrin, his gaze glued to that piece of paper, soon reached it and picked it up.

"For that scoundrel to drop this paper, of all others that he had in his pocket!" gasped Dave Darrin, as, under the street light, he took in its nature.

Then he paled, for this paper seemed to confirm absolutely the young ensign's suspicion as to the way in which the British battleship was to be destroyed.

All in a twinkling Dave's pallor vanished, for he had something else to think about.

On the alley-like side street a quick step was heard that Darrin recognized. It was that of Emil Gortchky, hastily returning to find the paper that he had dropped in the heart of Apache Land!

XVI. "Seeing" the Paris Apaches

Like a flash Darrin thrust the paper into one of his own pockets. Then he turned, darting into a near-by doorway dark enough to conceal him from Gortchky's eyes, if he should look in that direction.

"I've no reason for fearing an encounter with Gortchky, unless he knows how to summon the murderous Apaches to his aid," Dave told himself as he pressed back as far as he could into his hiding place. "I don't want Gortchky, however, to know I'm watching him, and I don't want to lose this precious paper any more than he does."

Touching the door accidentally with the hand that rested behind his back, Dave was delighted to feel it swing slightly open. In another instant he had backed into a corridor, softly closing the door after him.

"Now Gortchky won't find me, and I'm all right, unless I am discovered by one of the occupants of this house, and turned over to the police as a burglar!" thought the young naval officer exultantly.

Gortchky's step, now slower, went by the door, which Dave had left ajar by only the tiniest crack.

"I cannot have lost that paper here, after all," Dave heard the international spy mutter in a low voice. "Certainly it has not been picked up, for I came back almost instantly, and there was no one near. It is not likely that I shall ever see that important little bit of paper again."

Yet for a few moments longer Dave heard the international spy moving about as though still searching. Then the fellow's footsteps died out as he went around the corner.

"I'll wait a few minutes before I step out," Darrin decided. "Gortchky may only be laying a trap, and even at this instant he may be peering around the corner to see if any one steps out of one of these doorways."

Waiting for what seemed to be a long time, but what was actually only a few minutes, the young ensign stepped out to the sidewalk again.

There were a few people on his own side of the block, and the sight of any one leaving a house was not likely to arouse curiosity in the minds of the denizens of that neighborhood.

As Dave neared the next corner, however, four rough-looking fellows came out of a little café. Their bearing was full of swagger. These young men, in dress half student and half laborer, with caps pulled down over their eyes and gaily-knotted handkerchiefs around their necks, displayed the shifting, cunning look that is found in the hoodlum everywhere.

As they reached the sidewalk, moving with the noiseless step peculiar to the Apache, they heard Darrin briskly coming along. Halting, they regarded him closely as he neared them.

"They look like hard characters," Dave told himself. "However, if I mind my business, I guess they'll mind theirs."

It was not to be. One of the Apaches, the tallest and slimmest of the lot, regarded Darrin with more curiosity than did any of the others.

"Ho!" he cried. "See how stiffly our little student carries himself! He must have been to see his sweetheart, and feels proud of himself."

"He has the stride of a banker," jeered another. "I wonder if he has his bank with him."

Dave's ear, quickly attuned to the French tongue, caught and understood the words.

"Let me see what you look like," urged the slim fellow, reaching out and plucking from Darrin's nose the blue eye glasses just as Dave was passing the group.

That gesture and the act were so insulting that Ensign Darrin could not keep back the flash that leaped into his eyes. He halted, regarding the Apache steadily.

"Why, bless me! He's an American!" cried the Apache. "All Americans are rich, you know. My friend, have you a few sous for a group of poor workingmen?"

Dave essayed to pass on. As he did so, a foot was thrust out. Dave saw the movement and leaped over the foot to avoid being tripped.

"At him!" hissed the slim Apache. "Let us shake out his pockets."

Dave sprang forward, although he knew that he could not hope to run away. Instead, he leaped to a wall, placing his back against it. There he halted, glaring defiantly at his assailants, his fists up and ready for instant action.

"Sail in! Trim him!" snarled the slim one. "If our little American shows fight—kill him!"

The first who reached Dave reeled back with a broken nose, for Darrin's first was hard.

"Stick the pig!" cried the leader, meaning that the young officer was to be stabbed. Not one of the four had a knife, it seemed.

As they surrounded him, the one with the injured nose having returned to the fray, that slim Apache drew out a sandbag, long and narrow, shaped like a sausage, made of canvas and filled with sand. This is one of the most deadly weapons in the world.

"Let us see what soothing medicine will do!" he jeered.

In an instant all four had brought sandbags to light, and all closed in upon the desperate American.

"Come on, you cowards!" roared Dave, forgetting his French and lapsing back into English. "If I go out I'll take one of you with me."

Trying to tantalize their victim, the Apaches made thrusts at Ensign Dave, and then leaped nimbly back. It was their hope that he would spring forward at them and thus leave his rear unguarded. It is easiest to use the sandbag on a victim from behind, though the tactics now employed were favorites with the Apaches.

Dave had sense enough to divine the nature of their trick. Unless the police arrived promptly he expected to be killed by these jeering scoundrels, but he was determined to sell his life dearly enough.

Suddenly the young naval officer saw his chance and used it. One of his dancing tormentors got in too close. Darrin's right foot shot up and out, landing across the Apache's knee-cap.

Uttering a howl of rage and pain, the fellow all but crawled back.

"Kill the American," he howled. "Don't play with him."

Instantly the three remaining assailants worked in closer, yet with all the caution of their wily natures.

"Rush me!" taunted Dave, again in English. "Don't be so afraid. If you mean to kill me why don't you show courage enough to do it? Come on, you sneaks!"

Though the Apaches could not understand what the young ensign said to them, they knew the drift of his jeering words. Their faces contorted with rage, they struck at him, Dave's arms working like piston rods in his efforts to ward off their blows.

Close to the wall, slipping along on tip-toe came a tall figure. Then suddenly a newcomer leaped into the picture.

Biff! smash! Struck from behind in the neck, two of the Apaches pitched forward, going to earth. Dave Darrin, with a feint, followed up with a swinging right-hand uppercut, laid the last of the Apaches low, for the fellow sitting in a doorway, nursing his knee and cursing, no longer counted.

"Quick! Out of here!" ordered the newcomer, seizing Dave by the arm and starting him along.

"Jetson!" gasped Ensign Darrin, looking into the face of his rescuer.

"Yes," answered his brother officer. "Hurry along!"

"Jetson, you've saved my life this time. That pack of wolves would have killed me in spite of my best defense."

"We're not out of trouble yet," retorted Jetson, fairly pushing Darrin along. "Those Apaches will revive in a few seconds."

"Pooh! Together, Jetson, we could thrash half a dozen of their kind, and find it only exercise."

"But, my boy, don't you realize that there are more than three or four Apaches around the Rue d'Ansin? The alarm will sound, and a score more will rush up. These rascals are sure death, Darry, if they get at you in sufficient numbers! The Parisians fear them. You don't see a single citizen on the street now. Look! Every one of them flew to cover as soon as the Apaches moved into action. If bystanders interfered, or even watched, they too would have to reckon with these Apaches. Now, Darry, you're no coward, and neither am I, but if you're wise you will imitate me by taking to your heels."

Still holding Dave's arm lightly, Jetson sprinted along to the next corner.

"To the right," whispered Dave. "I've a taxicab here."

More than halfway down the block they saw the car at the curb. The chauffeur, when Dave called, stepped from a doorway in which he had taken refuge.

"The Apaches!" gasped the driver.

"Hustle!" urged Dave. "Come on, Jetson."

As the two young naval officers sprang into the car, the driver leaped to his own seat. Pressing the self-starter, the chauffeur soon had his machine gliding along. Nor did he go back, either, by way of the Rue d'Ansin.

Not until he was four blocks away from the scene did the man ask for his orders.

"Back to the Embassy," Dave instructed him. Then he remembered his comrade's swift, fine rescue.

"Jetson," he asked, "did you know it was I who was menaced by the Apaches?"

"I did not," replied his brother officer. "But I heard enough, at a distance, to know that an American was in trouble. In Paris that is sufficient for me. Darry, I am delighted that I happened along in time."

"You saved my life, Jetson, and at the risk of your own. If you had missed one of the Apaches, or had lost your balance, your career would have been ended right there, along with mine."

"You risked your life for me, Darry, back in the old Annapolis days, so we are even," answered Jetson gently. "However, we won't keep books on the subject of brotherly aid. All I can say, Darry, is that I am glad I chose this night to call on an artist who lives in dingy quarters half a mile beyond where I found you. And I am also glad that I did not accept his invitation to supper, or I should have come along too late to serve you."

As soon as the machine had left them at the Embassy, Darrin sought out Mr. Lupton.

"May I see Mr. Caine at once?" asked the young officer.

"You have seen Gortchky, then?"

"Yes, and I have found what I consider positive proof as to the plans of Gortchky's crew."

"I think Mr. Caine can be seen," replied Lupton.

Ensign Darrin was soon with the American Ambassador, who nodded to Lupton to leave the room.

"Here, sir," began Darrin, "is a bit of paper that Gortchky dropped and which I picked up."

Mr. Caine scanned the paper.

"I do not see anything so very remarkable about it," he replied.

Dave whispered a few words in his ear.

"Is that true?" asked the Ambassador, displaying sudden agitation.

"Yes, sir."

"Then I believe you are right, Darrin," gasped the Ambassador, sinking back into his chair, his face paling slightly. "Oh the villains!"

"Then you believe, sir, that I have really discovered the plot?" asked Dave, who looked only a whit less agitated.

"If what you have just told me is true, then it must be that you have made a correct guess."

"Will you send word by wireless to Admiral Timworth, then, sir?"

"I dare not trust such news, even to the cipher, which the international gang thought they had filched, and which they did not get," replied Mr. Caine. "I believe that the wisest course will be for you to take the midnight train to Genoa."

"Then I shall take this paper with me?"

"Yes, Mr. Darrin, for the Admiral is far more capable than I of estimating it at its true worth. It is a matter for a naval man to comprehend and decide."

The Ambassador did not neglect to provide the young ensign with documents, approved by the French Foreign Office, that would take them safely over the border into Italy on their return trip.

XVII. Dave's Guess at the Big Plot

"Friends tell me that in being in the Navy I have such a grand chance to see the world," grumbled Dan Dalzell, as the launch headed for the anchorage of the American warships. "I went to Paris and had two short taxicab rides through the city. That was all I saw of Paris. Then a long railway journey, and I reached Genoa. I spent twenty-eight minutes in Genoa, and boarded this launch. Oh, I'm seeing the world at a great rate! By the time I'm an admiral I shall know nearly as much of the world as I did when I studied geography in the Central Grammar School of Gridley."

"Don't be a kicker, Danny boy," smiled Dave. "And just think! When you get home, if any one asks you if you've been in Paris, you can say 'Yes.' Should any one ask you if you've seen Genoa, you can hold up your head and declare that you have."

"But my friends will ask me to tell them about those towns," complained Dalzell.

"Read them up in the guide books," advised Jetson, who was of the party. "I've known a lot of Navy officers who got their knowledge of foreign places in that way."

Dave and Dan had had but a fleeting glimpse of the fine city that now lay astern of them. Hundreds of sailormen and scores of officers, on sight-seeing bent, had been ashore for two days.

But now the recall to the fleet had come. All save Darrin, Dalzell and Jetson, with Seaman Runkle, who was now up forward on the launch, were already aboard their respective ships. The Admiral waited only for the coming of this launch before he gave the sailing order.

Jetson was assigned to the battleship "Allegheny," a craft only a trifle smaller than the massive "Hudson."

The three brother officers and Runkle had traveled by express from Paris to Genoa, and had come through without incident. At last even the watchful Runkle was convinced that they had eluded all spies.

"Boatswain's Mate," said Dave, "as this launch belongs to the flagship, it will be better to take Mr. Jetson, first, over to his ship."

"Aye, aye, sir," responded the man in charge of the launch.

Twenty minutes later Dave Darrin found himself leading his own party up over the side of the "Hudson."

"Captain Allen wishes to see Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell at once," announced Lieutenant Cranston, the officer of the deck. "You will report to the Captain without further instructions."

"Very good, sir," Dave answered, saluting.

Exactly ten minutes later the two young ensigns were ushered into the presence of their commanding officer.

"Admiral Timworth has been notified by wireless from Paris that you have important communications to make to him," began the Captain. "I will not waste your time or the Admiral's in questioning you here. You will come with me to the fleet commander's quarters. The Admiral is awaiting you."

Admiral Thomas Timworth, seated at his desk, and with his flag lieutenant standing by, greeted his callers with exceeding briskness.

"Gentlemen," he said, "time presses, and we must dispense with formalities. Ensign Darrin, I am advised by the Ambassador at Paris of the importance of your news, but he does not tell me what the news is."

"Its importance, sir, depends on whether the evidence I have to present supports the guess I have made as to the nature of the plot that has been planned against the peace and safety of Great Britain and our own country."

As Dave spoke he produced from an inner pocket the sheet of paper dropped by Gortchky, that he had picked up in the Rue d'Ansin.

"This piece of paper, sir," Darrin continued, passing it to the fleet commander, "is one that I saw Emil Gortchky drop from a packet of several papers that he took from his pocket at night on one of the worst streets in the slums of Paris."

Admiral Timworth scanned the paper, then read it aloud. It was a receipted bill, made out in the name of one unknown to those present, though perhaps an alias for Gortchky himself. The bill was for a shipment of storage batteries. At the bottom of the sheet was a filled-in certificate signed by a French government official, to the effect that the batteries had been shipped into Italy "for laboratory purposes of scientific research." Just below this statement was an official Italian certificate of approval, showing that the batteries had been admitted into Italy. In time of war, with the frontier guarded tenfold more vigilantly than in ordinary times, such certificates are vitally necessary to make shipments from France into Italy possible.

"In other words, sir," Dave went on eagerly, when the fleet commander scanned his face closely, "it needed some very clever underhand work, very plausibly managed, to make it possible to buy those batteries in France and to secure their admittance into Italy."

"Why?" quizzed Admiral Timworth, as though he did not know the answer himself.

"Because, sir," Dave went on keenly, full of professional knowledge of the subject, "these batteries are the best that the French make for use aboard submarines."

"True," nodded the fleet commander. "What then?"

"Why, sir, by the use of the cleverest kind of lying that spies can do, Gortchky and his associates have hoodwinked the French and Italian governments into believing that the batteries are to be lawfully used for research purposes, when, as a matter of fact, they are to be used aboard a submarine which the plotters intend to use for destroying a British battleship."

"We will admit, then," said Admiral Timworth, as a poser, "that the plotters have probably gotten into Italy storage batteries that can be used serviceably on a submarine. But where and how can the plotters have obtained the submarine craft itself? Or, if they haven't got it yet, how are they to obtain one? For submarines are not sold in open market, and it would be difficult to steal one."

"I cannot answer that, as yet, sir," Dave admitted gravely.

"And such storage batteries might be used for purposes of scientific research," continued the fleet commander.

"Yes, sir; but the habits of the buyers should be considered, should they not? Gortchky and his associates can be hardly believed to be interested in science. On the other hand, they are arch plotters, which would lead us to suppose that they have bought these batteries to further a plot. Outside of scientific work the batteries would not be likely to be used anywhere except on board a submarine. Storage batteries of different size and pattern are used for industrial purposes, but those described in this bill are used on board submarines."

"Your reasoning is plausible, Darrin, and probably correct, too," nodded Admiral Timworth.

"Besides which, sir," Dave pressed home, "if we admit that the plotters have conspired to sink a British battleship at Malta, the easiest way in war-time, when unidentified strangers cannot get aboard a warship, would be to effect the sinking by means of a submarine's torpedo. And, if this be the plan of the plotters, then the crime is likely to be attempted only when there are British and American war craft, and none others, in the Grand Harbor of Malta."

"Yet surely the plotters must know that, between good friends like Britain and America, it would take more than the mere sinking of a British ship to make the English suspect us, as a nation, of being involved in such a dastardly plot."

"Our country couldn't be suspected, as a government or a nation, of being guilty of such a wicked deed," Dave answered. "But Englishman and Frenchmen might very easily believe that the torpedoing was the work of a group of officers and men in our Navy who hated England enough to strike her below the belt. With the British ship sunk, sir, and with none to suspect but the Americans, there is no telling to what heights British passion might rise. The British are feeling the tension of the great war severely, sir."

"There is one flaw in your reasoning, Mr. Darrin," Admiral Timworth replied. "We will admit that the torpedoing happens at a time when only American and British war craft are visible in Grand Harbor. Why would it not be wholly reasonable for the British to suppose that the torpedoing was the work of a German submarine that had sneaked into the harbor of Malta under the surface of the water?"

"That occurred to me, sir," Dave admitted, "and at first I couldn't find the answer, but at last I did."

"I shall be glad to hear that answer."

"The submarine, let us suppose, sir, discharges one torpedo with such accuracy as to sink the British battleship. Why could not another torpedo be fired immediately, which would not strike, but would rise to the surface and be afterwards identified when found as an American torpedo? For a torpedo that does not strike and explode can be so adjusted that it will afterwards sink or rise and float. And this torpedo that rises can be of American pattern."

"But where would the plotters secure an American torpedo?" demanded Admiral Timworth.

"The plotters, if they had a secret factory, could make some torpedoes of the American type, provided they had obtained the services of a draftsman and workmen familiar with the American torpedo."

"That could be accomplished, in this wicked old world of ours," nodded Admiral Timworth, after an interval of deep thought. "I won't declare that I think it really has been done. Yet your various reports to me, Mr. Darrin, convince me that plotters really intend to sink a British battleship and lay the blame at our country's door. And such a deed might really provoke English clamor for war with our country."

In the Admiral's quarters a long silence followed.

At length the fleet commander looked up.

"Captain Allen," he asked, "what do you think of Mr. Darrin's surmise?"

"It looks probable to me," said the "Hudson's" commanding officer promptly.

"It looks likely to me, also," sighed Admiral Timworth.

Then the famous old sea-dog brought his clenched fist down on his desk with a bang.

"Malta shall be our next stop," he declared. "We shall see whether any band of plotters can put such a plot through while we are watching! All mankind would shudder at such a tragedy. All the world would side with England and condemn the United States and her Navy! Gentlemen, I now believe that Mr. Darrin has revealed the details of a plan that will be tried. We must prevent it, gentlemen! We shall prevent it—or some of us will lose our lives in the effort to stop it! Darrin, you shall have your chance in helping us to stop it. Mr. Dalzell, you, too, shall have your chance! And now—Malta."

XVIII. Surigny's Next Move

In the Grand Harbor, overlooked by the town and fortress of Valetta, on the island of Malta, there lay at anchor the British dreadnaught "Albion," the cruiser "Wrexham" and the gunboat "Spite."

Less than half a mile away lay the American battleships "Hudson" and "Allegheny" and the cruiser "Newton."

It was early evening now. During the day, soon after the arrival of the American craft, the usual visits of courtesy had been exchanged between the two fleets.

Admiral Barkham, of His Majesty's Navy, received a most disagreeable shock while in conference in Admiral Timworth's quarters. In other words, he had been accurately informed of all that was so far known to the American fleet commander.

"But it is impossible," declared Admiral Barkham. "Quite impossible!"

"It would seem so," replied Admiral Timworth. "Yet the outcome will be the best proof in the matter. Sir, with your help, I propose to catch that submarine, should she appear in these waters."

"She will not appear," declared the Englishman. "I am convinced that such a thing is impossible. Only madmen would undertake to accomplish such a horrible thing. True, we have enemies who employ submarines in this war, but they do not dare to use them in attacking battleships. Nor would plotters without the backing of a government dare try it."

Then Admiral Timworth caused Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell to be summoned. They came. Admiral Barkham listened to their story, his gaze all the time fixed on their earnest faces.

It was impossible to doubt the word of two such intelligent young officers. Admiral Barkham found his doubts vanishing. He was prepared to admit that such a crime as he had heard discussed might be in course of planning.

"Of course I know the fellow Gortchky," admitted Admiral Barkham, "and also that trouble-breeder, Dalny. Yet this is something amazingly more desperate than they have ever attempted before. I now admit, sir," turning to Admiral Timworth, "that there is good reason to suppose that such a plot may be afoot."

"The 'Maine' was sunk in Havana Harbor," rejoined the American Admiral, dryly. "That incident sent two nations to war. Might not something like the 'Maine' affair be attempted here in Valetta Harbor?"

Sitting with bowed head the British admiral looked most uncomfortable.

"At all events," he said, "it is certainly a matter of duty for the officers of both fleets to be on the lookout, and for them to work in concert. Yet I still find it all but impossible to believe what my judgment tells me might be possible."

"You are going to advise the officers of your fleet, then?" asked Admiral Timworth.

"I think so," replied the Englishman slowly.

"In the American fleet," said Admiral Timworth, "very few officers will be told outside of those who are going to be charged with keeping a lookout for the submarine."

At a sign Dave and Dan withdrew, leaving the two fleet commanders in earnest conversation.

"It's hard for an Englishman to conceive of such a crime as being possible, isn't it?" asked Dan, with a melancholy grin.

"Perhaps it's to the honor of his manhood that he cannot believe in it," Dave answered gently, as the chums sat in the latter's quarters.

Dave and Dan had been excused from ship duty on account of other duties that were likely to be assigned to them at any time.

"Admiral Barkham listened to their story."

Half an hour after the chums left the Admiral's quarters an orderly summoned them to Captain Allen's office.

"Both admirals are convinced," said Captain Allen, when Dave and Dan had reported, "that the crime, if it is to be attempted, will be tried at night. As there are still a few hours before dark Admiral Timworth wishes you to take one of the launches and go alongside the British flagship. There will you find three or four young British officers ready to join you. You will all go ashore in Valetta and remain there until nearly dark. You will circulate about the town, as sight-seers usually do. While ashore you will keep your eyes open for glimpses of the Gortchky-Dalny plotters and their subordinates, whom you may find there. Admiral Timworth particularly desires to know whether any of that unsavory crew have reached Malta."

The launch being ready alongside, Dave and Dan, both in uniform, went at once over the side. They were soon alongside the "Albion," and a voice from deck invited them aboard. There the officer of the deck introduced them to four young English officers. Three minutes later the party went aboard the launch, and headed toward shore.

Outside of the forts and garrison buildings the town is a small one, though at this time there were several places of amusement open on two of the principal streets.

Through these places the party strolled, seemingly bent only on having a good time.

"Have you seen any of the bally spies?" murmured one of the young English officers, Whyte by name.

"Not a sign of one," Dave answered in a low tone.

"What if they're not here?" persisted Whyte.

"It may be that none of them will show up at Malta," Darrin answered. "Or it may be that those who do come will come only on that submarine we are looking for."

"I would like to meet one of those plotters," grumbled Dorcliffe, another of the English party and the possessor of a bulky frame and broad shoulders.

"What would you do?" asked Dave smilingly.

"I believe I'd jolly well choke the breath out of him!" asserted Mr. Dorcliffe.

"That would betray the fact that we know the gang and the work that they're planning," Dave returned.

"Would it?" asked Mr. Dorcliffe, looking thoughtful. "Oh, I say! It's bally hard work to contend with such bounders. Why can't all men fight in the open?"

"Real men do," Dave answered. "The fellows we are trying to run down are not real men. Beings who can do wholesale murder for pay are bad beyond the comprehension of honest men."

"But we're not finding any one that we want to see," complained Sutton, another of the English party.

"I didn't expect to find that crew on parade," Dave replied, "and I think it extremely likely that none of them is now in Valetta or on the Island of Malta."

Then all fell silent, for the leaders of the party had turned in at one of the cafés most frequented by visitors.

There were but few people at the tables. Glancing across the room Dave felt a sudden throb of astonishment and disgust.

Hastily rising from a table was a young man who averted his face.

"There's the Count of Surigny!" whispered Dave to Whyte.

An instant later a door at the side of the room closed almost noiselessly, with the young French nobleman on the other side of it.

"Did you see that fellow?" Dave demanded, hoarsely.

"We did," came the acknowledgment of Dave's group.

"That is Surigny," Darrin informed them. "He is the fellow whom I saved from suicide at Monte Carlo, and now he is in the ranks of the men who have planned the worst crime of the twentieth century. Surigny is now where his follies have placed him—associated with the vilest creatures who disgrace the name of Man!"

The party had seated themselves at a table where beverages and refreshments are served. A tireless Italian soprano and a Russian tenor were grinding out some of the stock music of the place. Two dancers were waiting to follow them.

The naval officers looked bored. They were not in this café for pleasure, but strictly for business—that of national honor.

A waiter strolled leisurely into the room, looked about, then approached the table at which the American and English officers were seated. Dropping a towel at Dave's side, the waiter bent over to pick it up, at the same time slyly pressing into Dave's hand a piece of paper.

Holding it under the table and glancing at it, Dave found it carried a brief message in French. Translated, it read:

"For vital reasons, I beg you to follow the waiter, who can be trusted, and come to me at once. Come alone and secretly. Honor depends upon your compliance! S."

"Surigny!" muttered Ensign Darrin, disgustedly, under his breath. "That impossible scoundrel! He has sold himself to those plotters, and now would betray me. The wretch!"

Yet, after a moment's thought, Dave decided to see the man.

Bending over, Dave whispered to Dan the message contained in the note.

"Are you going?" quivered Dan, his eyes flashing indignation.

"Yes."

"And I?"

"You will remain here, Dan. Tell the others if you can do so without being overheard. Make my excuses after I have left you."

Then, his head erect, his heart pumping indignantly, Dave Darrin rose and sought the waiter, who lingered at the end of the room.

XIX. Truth, Or French Romance

"You know what is expected of you?" Dave asked the waiter, in an undertone.

"Yes, Master," replied the man, a Maltese who spoke English with an odd accent.

"Then I will follow you," Darrin added.

At the heels of the waiter Dave went through a narrow corridor, then climbed a flight of stairs.

Pausing before a door, the waiter knocked softly, four times.

"Entrez, s'il vous plaît" ("Come in, if you please"), a voice answered.

Throwing open the door, the waiter bowed and swiftly departed.

Ensign Dave Darrin stepped inside, closed the door, and found himself face to face with the Count of Surigny.

That young Frenchman, his face unwontedly pale, searched Dave's face with his eyes.

"You are not glad to see me," he said at last.

"Do I show it?" inquired Darrin, his face without expression.

"You are not glad to see me," Surigny went on rather sadly. "Then it is because you suspect."

"Suspect—what?" Dave demanded, to gain time.

"You know the company that I have been keeping," the young Count continued.

"Has it been the wrong kind of company for a gentleman to keep?" Ensign Darrin asked coldly.

"You know!" cried the Count bitterly.

"Then," asked Dave, "is it indiscreet for me to ask why you have permitted yourself to associate with such company?"

"I doubt if you would believe me," replied Surigny, wincing.

"Is there any good reason why I should believe you?" Dave returned, studying the Frenchman's face.

"Perhaps none so good as the fact that I am a gentleman," the Count of Surigny answered more boldly. "The word of a gentleman is always sacred."

"May I ask to what this talk is leading?"

"I hardly know how to proceed with you," complained the young Frenchman. "Once you did me a great service. You taught me to live and that to die by my own hand was cowardice. Monsieur, you taught me how to be a man."

"And you have remembered the lesson?" Dave inquired, with the same expressionless face.

"I at least know," the Frenchman returned, "that a man should remember and serve his friends."

"Then you have been serving me?"

"I have been working hard, swallowing insult and stifling my sense of decency as far as possible, in order that I might serve you and prove myself worthy to be your friend," replied Surigny, with such earnestness that Darrin now found himself staring in open-eyed astonishment at the young nobleman.

"Perhaps you are going to try to offer me particulars of how you have been preparing to serve me," Dave said with a shrug.

"Monsieur," cried the Frenchman, as if in sudden desperation, "are you prepared to accept my word as you would wish your own to be accepted?"

"Wouldn't that be asking considerable of a comparative stranger?"

"Then answer me upon your own honor, Monsieur Darrin," the Count of Surigny appealed eagerly. "Do you consider me a gentleman or—a rascal?"

Ensign Dave opened his lips, then paused. He was now asked to speak on his own honor.

His pallor giving way to a deep flush, Surigny suddenly opened his lips to speak again.

"Monsieur Darrin," he urged, his voice quavering, "do me the honor to look in my eyes. Study me from the viewpoint of an honest man. Tell me whether you will believe what I have to say to you. Do not be too quick. Take time to think."

As Dave found himself gazing into the depths of the other's eyes, and as he studied that appealing look, he felt his contempt for Surigny rapidly slipping away.

"Now, speak!" begged M. le Comte de Surigny. "Will you believe what I am about to tell you, as one man of honor speaks to another?"

For an instant Ensign Dave hesitated. Then he answered quickly:

"Yes; I will believe you, Monsieur le Comte."

"In doing so, do you feel the slightest hesitation?"

"Naturally," rejoined Darrin, a slight smile parting his lips, "I am assailed by some doubts as to whether I am wise in doing so, but I will believe what you have to say to me. I prefer to believe you to be, of your own choice, a man of honor."

Surigny uttered a cry of delight. Then he went on:

"Perhaps, Monsieur Darrin, you will even be willing to set me the example in truthfulness by telling me whether you know of the plot of those with whom I have had the shame of being associated."

"You will doubtless recall, Monsieur le Comte, since it was said only a moment ago, that I promised only to believe what you might have to say to me. I did not promise to tell you anything."

Indeed, at this point, Ensign Dave was perilously near to breaking his word as to believing Surigny. It looked to him as if the Frenchman were "fencing" in order to extract information.

"Well, then," exclaimed Surigny, with a gesture of disappointment, "I will tell you that which I feel I must. Listen, then. With Gortchky, Mender, Dalny and others, I have been engaged in a plan to cause a British warship to be sunk in the harbor yonder, and under circumstances such as to make it appear as the work of you Americans. Did you know that, Monsieur?"

"Go on," urged Dave Darrin.

"At first," murmured the Count, coming closer, "I believed Gortchky's statement that I was being engaged in secret diplomatic service. When I learned the truth, I was deeply involved with the miserable crew. Also, I was very much in debt, for Gortchky was ever a willing lender.

"There came a day, Monsieur, when there dawned on me the vileness of the wicked plot in which I had become engaged. For a few hours I felt that to destroy myself was the only way in which I could retrieve my honor. But the lesson you had taught served me well in those hours of need. Then the thought of you, an officer in the American Navy, brought a new resolve into my mind. No pledges that I had ignorantly made to such scoundrels could bind me. I was not their slave. Pledges to do anything that could bring dishonor upon one are not binding on a man of honor. I did not even feel a sense of debt to Gortchky, for he had used the money with evil intentions. From the moment of these realizations I had but one object in view. I would go on taking such money as I needed, and with no thought of the debt; and I would serve these monsters with such seeming fidelity that I could at last find my way open to serving you fully, Monsieur Darrin. I pause for an instant. Do you believe all that I have just told you, my friend?"

"Yes," answered Dave. The next second he caught himself wondering if, through that "yes," he had unintentionally lied.

XX. The Allies Clear For Action

"I left Naples for this island on an east-bound liner," continued the Count of Surigny. "Not until within an hour of sailing did I know the whole of the terrible story that now spoils my sleep at night and haunts me by day. Monsieur Darrin, if you have scented any dreadful plot, at least I do not believe you know just what it is."

Once more the young Frenchman paused. Dave, however, having regained his expressionless facial appearance, only said:

"Go on, Monsieur le Comte."

"Then I have but to tell you what the plot is," resumed Surigny. "Gortchky, Mender, Dalny and others knew that the American fleet would stop at Malta, because American fleets in these waters always do stop at Malta. They knew also that a British fleet often remains here for months at a time. So these arch scoundrels knew to a certainty that the 'Hudson' of your Navy would be here in due course of time. In a word, every plan has been made for sinking a British battleship here at Malta under circumstances which will make it appear to be plainly the work of a group of American naval men."

Darrin, still silent, steadily eyed the Frenchman.

"You do not start!" uttered Surigny, in amazement. "Then it must be because you already know of the plot!"

"Go on, please," urged Dave quietly.

"The plan must have been made long ago," the Frenchman continued, "for, before August, 1914, before the great war started, though just when I do not know, Gortchky and the others, or their superiors, had a submarine completed at Trieste. It was supposed to be a secret order placed for the Turkish government. The craft was not a large one. Gortchky and some associates took the submarine out for trial themselves. Days later they returned, reporting that the underseas craft had foundered, but that they had escaped to land in a collapsible boat. Most of the payments on the submersible had already been made. Gortchky paid the balance without protest, and the matter was all but forgotten.

"I do not know what reason Gortchky had given the builder, if indeed he offered any explanation, but the tubes in the submarine had been made of the right dimensions and fitted with the right mechanism to fire the American torpedo. And a man whom I judge to have been a German spy in America before the war—a German who had served as draftsman in the employ of an American munitions firm—was at Trieste to furnish the design for both the torpedo tubes and for the four American torpedoes that the Trieste firm also supplied.

"You will have divined, of course, Monsieur Darrin," Surigny continued, "that the submarine was not lost, but concealed at a point somewhere along the shores of the Mediterranean until wanted. So far ahead do some enemies plot! Where the submarine has remained during the interval I do not know, but I do know that, submerged only deep enough for concealment, she has been towed to these waters recently by relays of fishing boats manned by Maltese traitors to Britain. Ah, those rascally Maltese! They know no country and they laugh at patriotism. They worship only the dollar, and are ever ready to sell themselves! And the submarine will endeavor to sink the British battleship to-night!"

"To-night!" gasped Darrin, now thoroughly aroused.

"To-night," Surigny nodded, sadly, his face ghastly pale. "Even the yacht that carries the plotters is here."

"These are hardly the times," Dave remarked, "when it would seem to any naval commander a plausible thing for a yacht to cruise in the submarine-infested Mediterranean. And, if the plotters are using and directing the movements of a yacht, I am unable to see how they could obtain clearance papers from any port."

"Oh, the yacht's sailing papers are correct," Surigny declared, eagerly. "The yacht has Russian registry and is supposed to be sold to Japanese buyers to be put in trade between the United States and Japan, carrying materials from which the Japanese make Russian munitions of war. So you will see how plausible it is to be engaged in transferring a Russian yacht to Japanese registry at this time."

"Humph!" grunted Darrin. "It seems a stupid thing, indeed, for any Japanese shipping firm to buy a low, narrow craft, like the typical yacht, to convert her into a freighter."

"Ah, but the yacht is neither low nor narrow," replied Surigny. "She is a craft of some three thousand tons, broad of beam and with plenty of freeboard."

"What flag does she fly?" Dave asked.

"That I do not know," was the Count's answer. "It may be that she does not fly any. Two of her passengers are reported to be a Russian prince and a Japanese marquis. But Monsieur Mender is not a Russian at all, and no more a prince than he is a Russian. As for the Japanese, he is merely a Filipino, once a mess attendant in your Navy, and now a deserter, for he hates your country."

"When will the yacht reach these waters?" Dave inquired.

"As I have said, she is here already, or as near as she will come," the Frenchman continued. "At noon she was at anchorage in the channel between the islands of Comino and Gozo. It is known as the North Channel."

"I know the spot," said Dave, nodding. "Comino is the little island that is used as a quarantine station. Monsieur le Comte, do you know anything more, of importance, that you have not already told me?"

"Monsieur Darrin, I believe that nothing of importance has been left out of my narrative. But you believe me? You will now accept my hand?"

"Yes," Dave burst out, extending his hand almost impulsively. M. le Comte Surigny seized it delightedly.

"Ah, it is good, it is grand!" cried the young Frenchman, "after such associates as I have had for weeks, to find myself again fit for the confidence and the friendship of a gentleman!"

"But what will become of you?" asked Dave, a feeling of regret suddenly assailing him. "What will become of you, my dear Surigny? Is it likely that the plotters, if they be foiled, will suspect you? Is it likely that they would seek your life as a forfeit?"

"What is my life?" laughed the Frenchman gayly. "I have never valued it highly, but now, when I have won back my self-respect, a blow in the dark would be but a mark of honor. If they wish to kill me, let them. It would be a glorious death, in the cause of honor!"

Dave glanced out of the window, then gave a start of alarm.

"Time is passing," he murmured. "I must take my information where it will be of the most service. And you, Surigny, may I take the liberty, without waiting to ask our Admiral's leave, of inviting you to accept the hospitality of the flagship? Will you come on board with me?"

"Afterward," replied the Frenchman. "Afterward, when the truth of what I have told you is recognized."

"Where will you stay for the present, then?"

"Where I am now," smiled the Count.

Dave took one long step forward, again gripping Count Surigny's right hand with both his own hands.

"Surigny, I am under more obligations than I can ever repay. Few men with the instinct of a gentleman could have endured, for weeks, having to associate with and serve such rascals as this grewsome crew. You have, indeed, proved yourself noble, and I deeply regret that I have ever allowed myself to distrust and dislike you."

"Let us say no more," begged the Count. "After the chase is over—and may you win the game—you will find me here, reveling in the thought that I have been able to warn you so completely."

Had it not been that he again remembered how late it was growing, Ensign Darrin would have remained longer with this now bright-faced Frenchman. As it was, Dave tore himself away from Surigny, and lost no time in rejoining his party below.

As Dave stepped to the table, Lieutenant Whyte, of the British Navy, raised his eyebrows in slight interrogation. None spoke.

"I don't know," smiled Darrin, "how it goes with you gentlemen of England, but I am sure Dalzell will agree with me that it is time to get back to our ship."

"It is," Dalzell affirmed, taking the cue.

The score was settled, after which the party left the hotel. Dave stepped to Whyte's side. Through the streets of the little town the party passed quickly by twos, gayly chatting. Once they were clear of the streets and near the mole Dave began:

"Mr. Whyte, the moment for action is at hand. Surigny sent for me, and I believe he has told me the truth. He felt under obligations, and, when invited, joined the international plotters in order to find out how he could serve me. He has told me that a yacht bearing the supervising plotters is now anchored in North Channel, and that the submarine is concealed somewhere under neighboring waters. It is the intention of the plotters to attempt to sink one of your ships to-night."

"Do you believe the fellow?" demanded Whyte in a shocked tone.

"At first I found it hard to believe him," Dave admitted, "but now I believe that he told me the truth."

"And if he has not?" questioned the British officer.

"In any event, Whyte, the yacht must be watched. However, your Admiral Barkham will have to decide what action shall be taken."

"Do you know whether others of the crew, besides Surigny, are in Valetta?" Whyte asked.

"I did not ask Surigny," Dave rejoined. "Indeed, it is not important to know. What we must do is to catch the submarine; the conspirators may wait for subsequent overhauling."

At Darrin's signal the launch from the flagship promptly put off. Darrin ordered that the English officers be put aboard their own ship first. As the launch drew alongside the "Albion" Dave added:

"Mr. Whyte, I shall wait until you ascertain whether your Admiral has any message to send to Admiral Timworth. That, of course, would be after hearing your report."

For ten minutes the "Hudson's" launch lay alongside the "Albion." Then Mr. Whyte appeared, coming nimbly down the gangway and stepping into the launch.

"With Admiral Barkham's compliments, I am to carry a message to Admiral Timworth," Whyte announced. "I am also to inquire whether your Captain desires a conference with Admiral Timworth before I deliver my message."

Dave conducted the English officer aboard the American flagship. Captain Allen soon received them. He heard Ensign Darrin's report, then telephoned to Admiral Timworth for permission to bring to his quarters the English admiral's representative, together with his own youngest officers.

Admiral Timworth received them, listening attentively to the report that Dave had to make of his conversation with the Count of Surigny.

"Do you believe that the Frenchman was telling the truth?" the fleet commander inquired. Dave answered in the affirmative.

"Does your message from Admiral Barkham concern the Frenchman's report?" inquired Admiral Timworth, turning to Whyte, who had kept modestly in the background.

"It does, sir," Lieutenant Whyte answered, stepping forward. "Admiral Barkham's compliments, sir, and he has used the wireless to the quarantine station on Comino Island. Such a yacht as the Count of Surigny described is at anchor in North Channel, and is reported to have a Russian prince and a Japanese nobleman on board. So Admiral Barkham gives at least that much credence to the Frenchman's story."

Whyte paused a moment, that Admiral Timworth might speak, if he chose, then continued:

"Admiral Barkham imagines, sir, that you would like to have a share in searching the yacht and in guarding against submarine attack. To that end, sir, he signaled to the military governor at Malta and secured the latter's assent to a plan of having the American naval forces co-operate with us in running down the plot."

"Of course we shall be glad to aid," declared Admiral Timworth, heartily, "and we are much complimented over being invited to help you in British waters."

XXI. Making Stern Work of It

Lieutenant Whyte then unfolded, briefly, the plan of Admiral Barkham for procedure against the yacht and the submarine. To these plans Admiral Timworth quickly agreed.

"We have four large launches on the flagship," the fleet commander stated. "Three of these shall be put over the side, officered and manned and ready for instant service."

"Admiral Barkham also suggests, sir, that, during the night, the officers in command of your launches run without lights, when possible, for secrecy," Whyte continued.

"How many launches will Admiral Barkham put in service?" Admiral Timworth inquired.

"Three, sir," responded Whyte.

"Who will be the ranking officer in your fleet of launches?"

"I believe I am to be, sir," Lieutenant Whyte replied, bowing.

"Very good," nodded Admiral Timworth. "It would not be courteous, in British waters, Mr. Whyte, for me to appoint an officer who would rank yourself, so I shall ask Captain Allen to designate Ensign Darrin as ranking officer in our launch fleet. Ensign Dalzell will naturally command another of the launches. Who will command the third, Captain?"

"Ensign Phillips," replied Captain Allen.

The courtesy of appointing an ensign to head the American launch fleet lay in the fact that an ensign is one grade lower in the service than a junior lieutenant. When naval forces of different nations act together the ranking officer, no matter what country he represents, is in command. Had Admiral Timworth put his launch fleet in charge of a lieutenant commander, for instance, then the British launches, too, would have been under the command of the American officer. As it was, Lieutenant Whyte would be ranking and commanding officer in the combined launch fleet. This was both right and courteous, as Malta is an English possession, and the waters near by are British waters.

Plans were briefly discussed, yet with the thoroughness that is given to all naval operations. Lieutenant Whyte departed, and Ensign Phillips was sent for. Admiral Timworth and Captain Allen charged the young officers with their duties, upon the successful performance of which so much depended.

"Remember, gentlemen," was Captain Allen's final word, "that, in line with what the Admiral has stated, you are merely to co-operate with, and act under the orders of, the British ranking officer. Yet, if occasion arise, you will display all needed initiative in attaining the objective, which is the capture of the scoundrelly plotters and the seizure of the submarine before it can work any mischief. You will even sink the submarine by ramming, if no other course be open to stop her wicked work."

Each of the flagship's launches was equipped with a searchlight. While the council was going on in the Admiral's quarters the electricians of the ship were busy overhauling these searchlights and making sure that all were in perfect working order.

From the British flagship came a prearranged signal to the effect that Lieutenant Whyte was about to put off.

Dave's launch crew comprised, besides machinists and the quartermaster, twenty-four sailors and eight marines. A one-pound rapid-fire gun was mounted in the bow, and a machine gun amidships.

"Send your men over the side, Ensign Darrin," Captain Allen ordered, as he took Dave's hand. "Go, and keep in mind, every second, how much your work means to-night."

"Aye, aye, sir," Dave answered.

When the word was passed, Dave's launch party was marched out on deck and sent down over the side. Dave Darrin took his place in the stern, standing by to receive any further instructions that might be shouted down to him. "Cast off and clear!" called down the executive officer.

Dan Dalzell, whose launch party was not to clear until a later hour, waved a hand at his chum. Dave waved back in general salute.

At the same time Lieutenant Whyte put off from the "Albion" and sped onward to meet the American craft.

"We are to sail in company to North Channel," called Whyte.

"Very good, sir," Dave answered, saluting.

With three hundred feet of clear water between them, the launches moved rapidly along.

The distance to the middle of North Channel was about fifteen miles. Time and speed had been so calculated that the yacht should not be able to sight them by daylight. After dark the two launches were to maneuver more closely together, and Whyte, who knew the North Channel, was to be pilot for both craft until it came time to use their searchlights.

Over in the west the sun went down. Darkness soon came on. Neither launch displayed even running lights. One had a sense of groping his way, yet the launches dashed along at full speed.

Dave Darrin was now in the bow, with the signalman at his side, who would turn on the searchlight when so ordered. With his night glasses at his eyes, Ensign Dave could tell when the British launch veered sharply to port or starboard, and thus was able to steer his own course accordingly.

Twelve minutes later a brief ray shot from the Englishman's searchlight. It was the signal.

"Turn on your light," Dave ordered to the man at his side. "Swing it until you pick up the North Channel. Then pick up and hold a yacht—"

Ensign Darrin followed with the best description he had of the strange yacht.

Less than a minute later the lights on both navy launches had picked up the strange yacht, well over in the Channel. Dave studied her through his glass.

"That's the craft," Darrin muttered to himself. "My, but she looks her part! While she isn't large for a freighter, she's well calculated for that class of work."

"Your best speed ahead, sir!" shouted Whyte, through a megaphone. "Board the yacht on her starboard quarter. Quick work, sir!"

"Very good, sir!" Dave called back.

Then he stepped swiftly amidships to the engineers.

"Get every inch of speed to be had out of the engines, my man."

Next, to the helmsman:

"Quartermaster, steer straight ahead and make that yacht's starboard quarter!"

As Dave turned, he found his own face within three inches of Seaman Runkle's glowing countenance.

"Runkle," Dave smiled, "we are fond of the Englishmen. Their commanding officer called for our best speed, and we're going to show it."

"Aye, aye, sir!" grinned Runkle. "When any foreigner asks for the best we have in speed, he's likely to see it, sir."

Already the "Hudson's" launch had drawn smartly ahead of the British craft, and the distance between them grew steadily, though the Englishman was doing his best to keep up in the race.

Under the yacht's stern dashed the launch, and brought up smartly under the starboard quarter, laying alongside.

"Hullo, there! Vat you call wrong?" demanded a voice in broken English from the yacht's rail.

"Naval party coming aboard, sir," Dave responded courteously. "Take a line!"

"I vill not!" came the defiant answer.

"All the same, then," Dave answered lightly. "Bow, there! Make fast with grapple. Stern, do the same!"

Two lines were thrown, each with a grappling hook on the end. These caught on the yacht's rail. Three or four sailormen, one after the other, climbed the grappling lines. Two rope ladders were swiftly rigged over the side, by the Americans on the yacht's deck. Dave Darrin was quickly on board, with twenty of his seamen and all his marines, by the time that the English launch rounded in alongside the port quarter.

"You? Vat you mean?" demanded a short, swarthy-faced man, evidently captain of the yacht, as he peered at Dave's party. "You are American sailors!"

"Right," Darrin nodded.

"And dese are British vaters!"

"No matter," Dave smiled back at the blustering fellow. "Here come the Englishmen."

For he had sent four of his men to catch and make fast the lines from the British launch, and now the British jack-tars, taking their beating in the race good-humoredly, were piling on board.

"Captain," cried Lieutenant Whyte, striding forward, "I represent Admiral Barkham, ranking officer of His Majesty's Navy in these waters. I have the Admiral's orders to search this craft."

"You search him for vat, sir?" demanded the skipper.

"My orders are secret, sir. The search will begin at once. Ensign Darrin, if you will leave your marines to hold the deck, we will use all our seamen and yours below."

"Very good, sir," Dave replied, saluting. "You do not wish any one allowed to leave the yacht, do you, Lieutenant?"

"Not without my permission or yours, Ensign."

Dave accordingly gave the order to the corporal in charge of his marine party.

In another minute American and English tars were swarming below decks on the yacht.

On deck and in the wheel house Darrin had not seen more than four men of the yacht's crew, besides the skipper.

"There do not seem to be any men below," Dave muttered, as he explored the yacht between decks. "I wonder if that skipper gets along with four deck hands in addition to his engine-room and steward forces."

His men in squads, under petty officers, worked rapidly. Dave Darrin moved more slowly, passing on into the dining cabin and the social hall of the yacht, which were below decks.

Adjoining the social hall were several cabins. Dave threw open the doors of the first few he came to, finding in them no signs of occupation.

Then a steward, smiling and bowing, appeared and asked him in French:

"Do you seek any one here?"

"You have a Prince aboard?" Dave asked.

"Even so."

"And a Japanese nobleman?"

"We have."

"I wish to see them."

"Both are resting at present," the steward expostulated.

"I must see them immediately," Dave insisted.

"It is hardly possible, sir," protested the steward. "It is not to be expected that I can disturb such august guests."

"Steward, do you wish me to summon my men and have these cabin doors battered down?"

"Do not do that!" urged the steward in alarm. "Wait! I have pass-keys. Which would you see first?"

"The Prince, by all means."

"I will admit you to his room, Monsieur, and next silently slip away. But be good enough to let the Prince believe that he left his door unlocked. This way, monsieur."

Finishing his whispered speech, the steward glided ahead. He unlocked a cabin door, opening it but a crack. Dave stepped softly inside. Instantly the door was pulled shut and locked.

Through transoms on opposite sides of the cabin Mender and Dalny showed their evil faces, as each trained on the young naval officer an ugly-looking naval revolver.

XXII. After the Pest of the Seas

"Make a sound, and you feed the fishes, my fine young naval dandy!" hissed Dalny.

"Pooh!" retorted Dave, contemptuously. "Order your steward to unlock that door, or I shall be put to the trouble of smashing it down with my shoulder."

"And be shot in the back while you are doing it," jeered Mender.

"I haven't had the honor of meeting you before, but I take it that you are the bogus Russian Prince," laughed Dave. "Just now, though, you look much more like an apprentice to the Black Hand."

"You should be saying your prayers, instead of talking impudence," sneered Dalny.

"As for this cardboard Prince, words fail me," mocked Dave, still speaking in French, "but as for you, Dalny, I have already tested your courage, and know it to be worthless. You are a coward, and would not dare to use that revolver, knowing, as you must, that my men are aboard and would tear you to pieces. Go ahead and shoot, if you dare. I am going to break my way out of this cabin, and then I shall arrest both of you."

"Is there no way of compromising?" begged Dalny, his evil face paling, "In exchange for your life, Monsieur Darrin, can you not offer us a chance for escape?"

"One brave man down!" laughed Ensign Dave. "That was spoken like the coward that you are, Dalny."

Darrin turned to break down the door. He knew that he was taking chances, for the sham Prince might be a man cast in a braver mould than Dalny, and, in his desperation, might shoot at the back that Dave so recklessly presented.

At the third lunge from Darrin's sturdy shoulder, the door snapped open at the lock. The young naval officer stepped out into the social hall. There was no sign of the steward.

"Seaman here!" Dave bawled lustily. He was obliged to repeat the summons twice before a hearty "Aye, aye, sir!" was heard in the distance.

Then Jack Runkle showed his jovial face at the top of the companionway. Catching sight of his officer, Runkle bounded down the steps and came up on a run, saluting.

"Runkle, go to the corporal of marines and ask him to send two men here. Then stand by."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Runkle was off like a shot on his errand and soon returned with two marines.

"Now, men," Dave directed, pointing to the doors, "batter them down. That door, first."

As the men aligned themselves for the assault, Darrin, mindful that the sham Prince was armed and might prove ugly, stood by with his revolver drawn.

Bang! crash! The door was down.

"It will be wise to surrender to superior force," Darrin called sternly. "We shall shoot to kill at any sign of resistance."

As the words were uttered in French the marines did not understand, but they advanced unhesitatingly on Mender, disarmed him and led him outside the room.

"Take care of him, Runkle," ordered Dave. "Now, marines, that other door!"

Down came the barrier, and Dalny, shaking and white, was brought out to keep Mender company.

"Break down every door that's locked," was Darrin's next order.

Within five minutes a little, quaking brown man was secured and led out. All the locked cabins had now been entered.

"You're the Japanese marquis, are you?" Dave jeered. "Do you find, Marquis, that it pays any better than being a Filipino mess attendant?"

The Filipino hung his head without answering.

"Take these prisoners to the corporal of marines, and ask him to iron them and watch them closely," Dave directed. "Runkle, do you know where Lieutenant Whyte is?"

"In the hold, sir, or was."

"Follow me, then, and we'll see if we can find him."

Down in the main cargo hold forward, Dave and Runkle came upon Whyte and a party of English and American sailormen.

"Ah, there you are, Mr. Darrin," called Whyte. "We've been making a jolly big search through the hold, but, except for ship's supplies, it appears to contain nothing very interesting. However, we shall have time to examine it further later on. And you?"

"I have three prisoners," Dave explained, and told who and what they were.

"Take them with you, Ensign, if you have room on your launch," Whyte directed. "I will now take my men above and post a guard, so that you may withdraw your own guard and get under way at once."

"We have done well so far," Dave answered, as he gripped the English officer's hand. "I pray that we may be permitted to do as well all through the night."

Runkle was sent through the craft to recall all of the American sailors.

When Dave reached the deck he found that the entire crew of the yacht, including the engine-room force and the stewards, had been rounded up and driven to the deck.

"Over the side," directed Darrin, as his men, recalled, gathered near him. He followed, but went over last of all. Orders for casting off and shoving clear were instantly given.

"Keep the engines up to their best performance all the way," was Dave's order. "Boatswain's mate, watch sharp for the courses, as I may change frequently."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Heading out of North Channel, Dave drove back for Valetta, keeping about a mile off the coast.

After making a few knots, he came abreast of another British launch that lay further to seaward. With lantern signals the Englishman asked:

"Is the submarine supposed to be loose?"

"Yes," Dave had his signalman reply.

"Where?"

"Don't know."

"I'm here to warn incoming ships against entering Grand Harbor to-night," the Englishman wound up. "Are you seeking the submarine?"

"Yes," Dave had flashed back.

"Good luck to you!" came heartily from the English launch.

"Thank you," was Darrin's final response.

The searchlight of Dave's launch was swinging busily from side to side, searching every bit of the water's surface that could be reached.

"If the submarine comes up, Runkle, you may be the first to sight her," Dave smiled to that seaman, who stood beside him.

"Aye, aye, sir; if I sight that craft I won't be mean enough to keep my news to myself."

"I wonder where Dalzell is," thought Dave. "What is he doing in this night's work?"

As for Ensign Dave, his every nerve was keyed to its highest pitch. Outwardly he was wholly calm, but he felt all the responsibility that rested upon him to-night, as did every other officer who commanded a launch from either fleet.

Searchlight and naked vision were not enough. Almost constantly Darrin had his night glass at his eyes.

Suddenly, as the light shifted over the water, Dave thought he caught sight of something unusual.

"Steady with that light there, signalman," he commanded suddenly. "Back slowly to port with the beam."

Darrin forced himself to be calm.

"Steady," he called, again. "Hold the light on anything you see, signalman."

"Aye, aye, sir; I do see something," replied the man who was manipulating the searchlight.

That he did see the mysterious something was proved by the manner in which he kept the light upon it.

That on which Darrin now trained his night glass was a marked rippling on the water, half a mile away, and farther seaward. A landsman would have missed it altogether. Yet that rippling on the sea's surface was clearly different from the motion of the water near by.

"It might be a school of large fish," Dave mused aloud, in Runkle's hearing, "though at night they are likely to rest. Runkle, and you, men, keep your eyes peeled to see if you can make out fish leaping out of the water."

The ripple continued, unbroken at any point. Moreover, it moved at uniform speed, and in a line nearly parallel with the coast.

Gradually the launch gained on that ripple. Dave could not turn his fascinated gaze away from the sight.

"I think I know what that is, sir," broke in Seaman Runkle, after three minutes of watching.

"I am sure that I do, Runkle," Dave Darrin returned. "It's a submarine, for some reason just barely submerged. That line of ripple is the wake left by her periscope."

As if to confirm the young naval officer's words, the ripple parted. As the line on the water broke, the periscope came fully into view, and the turret showed above water, continuing to rise until the deck was awash.

"There's the pest of the seas!" cried an excited voice.

Every man on the launch was now straining his eyes for a better look at the submarine, barely a quarter of a mile away.

XXIII. The Puzzle of the Deep

"Coxswain!" shouted Dave.

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Send up three blue rockets!"

"Aye, aye, sir."

One after another the rockets ascended, bursting high overhead and slowly falling.

From Grand Harbor, several miles distant, a rocket ascended and burst, showing red.

Darrin's signal had been seen and answered. Both fleets now knew that one of the launches had sighted the submarine craft. The three blue rockets had been the signal agreed upon in advance. Runkle was at the gun. Ensign Darrin gave him the range.

"I wish we had a four-inch gun in the bow," Dave muttered wistfully, "but we'll have to do the best we can with the one-pounder. Ready! Fire!"

Even before the command to fire had been uttered the craft ahead had begun to submerge.

As the brisk, snappy report of the little piece sounded, and a faint puff of smoke left her muzzle, Runkle's head bobbed up to watch the result of his shot.

"Forward of her turret by about a foot!" Runkle muttered in disgusted criticism of his own shooting.

A sailor had thrown the breech open, while a second swabbed the bore through and the first fitted in a fresh shell, closing the breech with a snap.

Runkle seemed to sight and fire almost in the same instant, and, as before, straightened up to watch the accuracy of his shot by the splash of water on the other side of the craft. The launch's searchlight held a steady glare on the mark.

"Nearer by a few inches, sir," Runkle called over his shoulder while the men with him swabbed and loaded. Again Runkle fired.

"The shell must have passed aft of the turret by about six inches," remarked Darrin, catching through his glass a glimpse of the splash of water where the little shell struck the waves.

"I'll do better, or drown myself, sir," growled Runkle.

"Quick! She is submerging rapidly," commanded Darrin.

Bang! An instant after the report a smothered exclamation came from the unhappy gunner. The submarine had safely submerged. Not even her periscope was above water now.

"If the turret had been four inches nearer the sky you'd have put it out of commission," declared Ensign Darrin.

"Rotten work," growled Runkle in disgust.

"It's night shooting, my man," Dave answered. "Good work just the same."

Runkle had an excellent gunnery record, and Darrin did not like to see that fine fellow fretting when he had done his best. None the less it was highly important to send that submarine to the bottom and quickly at that.

"We've got to go by bubbles, now," Darrin declared. "She isn't likely to show her eye again."

Had he gotten the launch close enough to observe the bubbles it is possible that the young ensign could have followed the enemy trail. Twice or thrice Dave believed that he had picked up glimpses of bubbles with the searchlight, but at last, with a sigh, he gave orders to shut off speed and drift. Inaction became wellnigh insupportable after a few moments and Darrin called for slow speed ahead.

"There she is again" he cried. "There's her periscope. The scoundrel is standing out to sea."

Over the starboard quarter the searchlight signals of two other launches were observed.

"What's taking place?" came the signaled question from one.

"Fired a few shots at a vanishing turret, but missed," Dave ordered signaled back. "Enemy standing out to sea. Am following."

"Will follow also," flashed back the answer.

"And one of their gunners will bag the game at the first chance," groaned Runkle. "The jinx is sitting tight on my chest to-night!"

"It might be, if there were any such animal as a jinx," laughed Darrin. "Your missing was just plain bad luck, Runkle. Your shooting was good."

"The periscope is being pulled inboard, sir," called one of the seamen who stood by with Runkle.

"I see it. There she goes, under again," Dave answered.

The Navy launch was dashing full speed ahead. But with no clue to follow, Darrin passed some anxious seconds. Should he follow on the course he had been taking, or should he shut off speed? In the dark there was a good chance that the submarine commander, if so minded, would be able to double and head back for shore.

Land lights were still visible from his position. Dave turned to estimate their distance.

"About six knots off shore," he concluded, half aloud.

"Sir?" questioned the corporal of marines, thinking the ensign was addressing him.

"I was just telling myself that we're about six knots off shore."

"Yes, sir," replied the corporal, saluting.

"Listen to me, you men who are near enough to hear. Your understanding of what is in my mind may help you the better to work with me on this job. Two launches are keeping with us, over the starboard, and I judge the nearer one to be about four knots off. Coxswain, use the lantern signal and ask who commands."

Soon Hardy discovered that, in order to make his signal visible at that distance, he would have to stand higher. Springing to the forward deck his signal was instantly understood on the other craft.

Dave, who had jumped up beside him, read the answer:

"Ensign Dalzell."

"I was sure of it," Dave smiled. "Coxswain, order number 2 launch to come up on parallel course, standing off half-mile to starboard of us."

"Order understood," was flashed back from Dalzell's launch.

Bit by bit Dan overhauled, at last taking the position indicated. Darrin's launch was moving at slow speed now, for he did not care to run out of sight of land, thus leaving the way clear for the submarine to double on him and put back toward Grand Harbor.

"Why doesn't the fellow take a chance on torpedoing us?" was signaled from Dalzell's launch.

"He has only three," was Darrin's reply.

That was brief, but Danny Grin understood, as Dave had intended he should, that the submarine was believed to be equipped with only three torpedoes. Evidently the enemy still hoped for a chance to sink a British battleship.

Suddenly he discovered that for which he sought, and in the same instant a seaman called, as the rays of the searchlight shifted:

"Periscope two points off the port bow, sir."

"Right!" clicked Ensign Darrin.

"May I fire, sir?" begged Runkle, bending over his piece.

"Yes, try it. Pretty long shot, though."

Before Runkle could aim and discharge his piece a swift, red flash shot from the bow of the number 2 launch commanded by Danny Grin. Runkle fired a second later, but the periscope still stood as if mocking the eager gunners.

"I'm glad somebody else missed," growled Runkle, who was becoming exasperated. He was doing himself injustice, though, for each time he had fired, his mark, considering the distance, had been small, and the searchlight was no peer of daylight in aiding a gunner.

Ensign Darrin admitted to himself that he was stumped. He ordered the course changed, with speed ahead, his purpose being to scan the water for the bubbled trail left by the underseas craft. But by the time that he judged himself to be going over the recently observed position of the submersible the searchlight revealed no bubbles.

The third launch now coming in close, Dave, by signal, ordered Ensign Sutton of the British forces to go slowly inshore. He too was to watch for bubbles, as well as to be alert for a re-appearance of the enemy craft.

The longer the suspense lasted, the more uneasy Darrin became.

"There she is, sir!" called a low but penetrating voice from the stern watch. "Three points off the stern to port, sir."

So quickly did the helmsman bring the launch about that she heeled and shipped a volume of water. Darrin, as he leaped upon the forward deck, ordered the sailor manning the searchlight to shut off.

"Don't turn it on again without orders. I believe I can follow the pest with my glass if she will only keep her conning tower above water. Signalman, send my order to the other launches not to use their searchlights without first asking permission."

By this time Darrin, standing on the forward deck, had the submarine's turret, or as much of it as showed, in the field of his night-glass.

Not more than a foot of it showed above water, and, even through the glass, at a distance of nearly half a mile, it would hardly have been discernible without the aid of the searchlight, had it not been for the white wake left by the turret in its course through the water.

"May I try a shot now, sir?" begged Runkle, "I'm certain I can hit the turret this time."

"If you could do it surely, you'd be the best shot in the Navy," smiled Darrin. "I'm not going to use the searchlight unless I have to, and it would be almost impossible to make a hit in the dark without it. The pest is headed shoreward, and I want to creep up close from the rear, if possible."

Dissatisfied, Runkle none the less saluted and turned back to his gun.

"Keep a close sight on the sneak," Dave called after him. "When you hear me call 'Ready!' you will complete your aim and fire without further orders."

An order transmitted to the man standing by the engine sent the launch plunging ahead at increased speed.

Of a sudden the pursuit assumed a new aspect. The submarine suddenly veered around to port, and then headed straight toward the launch.

"Now's our chance!" glowed a seaman, excitedly.

"Yes," retorted another strained voice. "Our chance for death!"

The same thought came into the minds of many on the launch. The submarine, it seemed, was about to discharge a torpedo at the pursuer.

"Starboard!" commanded Darrin. "Keep her bow to port of us!"

Seaman Jack Runkle strained his ears for the solitary word from Ensign Darrin that would be so welcome.

"Will he ever give that order?" fumed the impatient sailor at the breech of the one-pounder.

XXIV. Conclusion

"Stand by, gunner!" warned Darrin.

"Aye, aye, sir!" came from the man at the one-pounder.

The crew had ceased to be on tension, for it had dawned upon them that, as the two craft were approaching each other almost head on, there was hardly a chance that a torpedo could be made to register.

"Ready!" Darrin ordered.

There was a sharp bark from the throat of the one-pounder. Smash! A cheer went up from the watching seamen. The shot hit the mark. But the two men with Runkle were cleaning and loading for still another shot at the conning tower.

"Any more, sir?" inquired Runkle, with a grin, after firing and landing a second shot in the submarine's superstructure.

"Not unless ordered," Darrin answered, crisply. "If that fellow dives now he'll go below and stay there for good."

Instead of diving, however, the top of the submarine's conning tower was seen to rise higher and higher above the water.

"She's rising, but she's lost her steerage way, sir," announced the corporal of marines.

"The helmsman was undoubtedly killed by the first or second shot," suggested Dave. "It looks as if the survivors mean to surrender, but we'll watch out for tricks."

He gave the order for slow speed ahead, soon reducing it to mere headway.

"Marines prepare to board," ordered the ensign, as the launch came up close to the now unmanageable submarine, whose deck showed a bit more than awash.

It called for fine work on the part of the quartermaster to set his launch alongside without crushing it.

Gauging closely with his eye, Ensign Darrin called out:

"Ready to board! Board!"

Making the first leap himself, Dave landed on both feet on the slippery deck of the undersea boat, the marines following eagerly and quickly.

"Lay off and wait!" Dave called back to the quartermaster. Then he stepped closer to the conning tower, through which two holes had been drilled by the two registering one-pound shells.

"Open up, you fellows down there!" Dave called, briskly. "And don't attempt any tricks."

Inside he heard shuffling movements, but there was no evidence of intent to obey his order. So he called again, but this time spoke in French, believing that order might be more easily understood by those inside the submarine.

"Don't shoot! I'll come up and open," answered a voice in broken French, strongly tinged with Maltese accent.

After a few moments the hatch was raised. Then, one after another, eight or ten of Darrin's crew went below.

"No more men below," ordered Dave, who then followed his men in.

It was a miserable spectacle that met his eyes. A heavy body lay face downward in a pool of blood on the steel deck.

"Who was this?" demanded Dave of the other four men who crouched to one side in fear and trembling.

"Gortchky," answered one of the quartette sullenly.

There could be little danger of mistaking the dead man. Though no feature of the face had been preserved, every line in that odious body stood out clearly in Dave Darrin's mind. It was, indeed, all that was left of Emil Gortchky. Mr. Green Hat would never again steal the secrets of nor plot trouble between nations!

"An able man, even if a wicked one," said Dave slowly, uncovering in the presence of Death.

The body of Emil Gortchky was allowed to remain where it lay. The other four men of the submarine crew, one of whom was proved later to be an expert submarine commander and a deserter from the Swedish navy, were taken up to the platform deck, and thence transferred to the launch, where they were put beside Mender, Dalny, the badly-scared Filipino, and the other prisoners removed from the yacht.

In the meantime, Dan Dalzell had ranged up alongside, followed by Sutton of His Majesty's Navy. Both of these young officers went aboard the submarine and below deck for a look.

Rocket signals had informed those on anxious watch in Grand Harbor of the capture of the submarine. Congratulations had been signaled back.

Just as the dawn broke, watchers in the waters near Valetta saw Dave Darrin's launch enter the harbor, the submarine limping along in tow.

Early as the hour was, a band was lined up on the quarter deck of the "Albion." When Darrin's boat was within six cable-lengths, the band broke out exultingly into the strains of "See the Conquering Hero Comes!"

Probably no naval officer so young as Dave Darrin had ever been so signally honored by a foreign naval commander as was Dave Darrin then.

The submarine was anchored on a spot indicated by the port authorities of Valetta. Then Dave Darrin shaped his course for the "Hudson."

From hundreds of men, lined up on the decks of the flagship, rose lusty cheers.

"Bully boy, Darrin!" shouted a group of officers from the quarter-deck.

"Ensign Darrin," cried Admiral Timworth, striding forth from his quarters and grasping the young ensign by the hand. "I offer you my heartiest congratulations! For reward you shall have anything within my power to grant."

"Sir, I know what I want most at present," Ensign Darrin replied, gravely.

"What?" asked the Admiral, quickly.

"A nap, a bath, clean clothing and a breakfast, sir."

"But later on, Mr. Darrin?"

"At Port Said, sir, I shall ask Captain Allen to grant me, if it does not interfere with duty, three days ashore to meet my wife, whom I expect to find there when the fleet arrives."

For, as readers of the Boys of the Army Series are aware, Dave and his High School sweetheart, Belle Meade, were wedded immediately at the end of some border troubles in which Dave and Dick Prescott were involved on the Mexican border.

Despite, or perhaps on account of, the stirring experiences through which he had passed, Darrin was asleep five minutes after his head touched the pillow.

Danny Grin, who had been in only at the finish, lay awake for an hour before slumber visited him.

All that was left of Emil Gortchky was dropped into an unmarked, unhonored grave at Malta. Mender, Dalny and the Filipino were condemned by a British court-martial to be shot, a sentence that was soon after carried out.

As for the master and crew of the yacht, they persisted to the end in strenuously denying any guilty knowledge of the real intentions of the plotters. They escaped the death sentence, but, as their conduct was none the less of a guilty nature, the master of the yacht received a sentence of twenty years in prison, while his subordinate officers and the members of the crew were imprisoned for ten years each.

On information supplied to the Italian government Countess Ripoli was arrested. She was not an Italian woman, but had married an Italian nobleman who had died, after which she had turned to spy work. She was locked up and held for trial at Rome, but died of a fever before the day of her trial arrived.

The minor spies and the thugs employed by Gortchky and Dalny, unless they have since fallen into trouble with their own local police, have, of course, gone unpunished.

George Cushing, the secret service agent, is now on duty in the Panama Canal Zone.

M. le Comte de Surigny was a happy man when Dave visited him ashore on the day following the capture of the submarine. Surigny is now in Paris, the valued friend of a noted advocate, in whose offices he is studying law. An inheritance of comfortable proportions has since come to the Count, but he has determined upon a career of hard work. He is a strong, fine character in these days, and is proving, to the full, the manhood that Dave Darrin awakened in him.

The fleet remained a week at Port Said, Egypt. Dave had three happy days ashore with Mrs. Belle Darrin, and Danny Grin was often to be found in their company.

Jack Runkle received his promised rating, becoming a boatswain's mate. He is now industriously climbing the ladder of promotion.

It is reluctantly, indeed, that we take leave of Dave Darrin in this volume, but we shall meet him and Danny Grin again, and very soon, in the pages of the next volume of this series, which will be published under the title, "Dave Darrin's South American Cruise; or, Two Innocent Young Naval Tools of an Infamous Conspiracy." In this absorbing story Dave Darrin and Dan Dalzell are shown at their best as faithful and loyal officers of Uncle Sam's Navy.

THE END

Dave Darrin After the Mine Layers

or

Hitting the Enemy a Hard Naval Blow

"Unbolt the door!"

Frontispiece

Contents

I. Weighing Anchor For the Great Cruise

II. "The Accursed Power of Gold!"

III. A Fight of the Good Old Kind

IV. What a Floating Mine Did

V. Eyes That Looked Down From the Air

VI. In the Teeth of the Channel Gale

VII. In the Hour of Despair

VIII. Dave Meets the Fate of the Sea

IX. Threats to a Prisoner

X. Like the French and English

XI. A Victim of Courtesy

XII. German Brutality at its Worst

XIII. Facing the Planned Death

XIV. Dave Pledges His Word For Results

XV. Darrin Suspects the German Plan

XVI. Hitting Close to the Salt Trail

XVII. Trying Out the Big, New Plan

XVIII. Striking a Real Surprise

XIX. The Good Work Goes On

XX. Darrin Turns the Tables

XXI. On a Mission of Great Trust

XXII. The Red Cross Tragedy

XXIII. A Noble Fight Without Weapons

XXIV. Conclusion

I. Weighing Anchor For the Great Cruise

"It sounds like the greatest cruise ever!" declared Danny Grin, enthusiastically, as he rose and began to pace the narrow limits of the chart-room of the destroyer commanded by his chum, Lieutenant-Commander Dave Darrin.

"It is undoubtedly the most dangerous work we've ever undertaken," Darrin observed thoughtfully.

"All the better!" answered Dan lightly.

"In our drive against the submarines off the Irish coast," Dave continued, "we met perils enough to satisfy the average salt water man. But this——"

"Is going to prove the very essence and joy of real fighting work at sea!" Dan interposed.

"Oh, you old fire-eater!" laughed Darrin.

"Not a bit of a fire-eater," declared Dalzell with dignity. "I'm a business man, Davy. Our business, just now, is to win the war by killing Germans, and I've embarked upon that career with all the enthusiasm that goes with it. That's all."

"And quite enough," Darrin added, soberly. "I agree with you that it's our business to kill Germans, yet I could wish that the Germans themselves were in better business, for then we wouldn't have to do any killing."

"You talk almost like a pacifist," snorted Dan Dalzell.

"After this war has been won by our side, but not before, I hope to find it possible to be a pacifist for at least a few years," smiled Darrin, rising from his seat at the chart table.

Dan stood looking out through the starboard porthole. His glance roved over other craft of war tugging at their anchors in the goodly harbor of a port on the coast of England. As the destroyer swung lazily at her moorings the little port town came into view. On all sides were signs of war. Forts upreared their grim walls. Earthen redoubts screened guns that alert artillerymen could bring into play at a moment's notice. Overhead, dirigibles floated and airplanes buzzed dinfully to and fro.

Readers of the preceding volume in this series know how Dave Darrin came to be ordered to the command of the brand-new, big and up-to-the-minute destroyer, "Asa Grigsby," while Dan Dalzell, reaching the grade of lieutenant-commander, had been ordered to the command of the twin destroyer, "Joseph Reed."

At the door there sounded a knock so insistent that Darrin knew instantly that it was a summons. Springing from his chair, reaching for his uniform cap and setting it squarely on his head, he drew the curtains aside.

"Special signal for the 'Grigsby,' sir, from the flagship," reported an orderly.

Returning the young seaman's salute, Dave, with Dalzell close at his heels, darted up the steps to the bridge.

"Signal 'Ready to receive,'" was Darrin's command to his signalman, who stood waiting, signal flags in hand.

Rapidly the two flags moved, then paused. Dave's eyes, like Dan's, were turned toward the United States battleship that had lately acted as flagship for the destroyers and other small Yankee craft assembled in this port.

Brief indeed were the motions of the signalman on the bridge of the battleship, but the signal, translated, read:

"Proceed to sea in an hour, under instructions already received by you. Am proceeding to new station. Report to British admiral, this port, hereafter. No additions to these orders."

Instantly Darrin ordered the signal wigwagged back:

"Understood."

Immediately following this the flagship signalled the "Reed," Dan's ship, giving the same order, which Dan's executive officer, from the bridge of the other destroyer, acknowledged.

"Now, Darry, if you'll have your man signal for my gig," Dan urged, in a low voice, "I'll return to my ship. You and I are to cruise in company, as far as it may be done, and you are ranking officer. I am to part company from you only on your order."

"That is the admiral's order," Darrin acquiesced.

"Good-bye, old chap!" said Dan, with more than his wonted fervor, gripping his brother officer's hand. "And may we have the best of luck!"

"The best of a 'business' kind," smiled Dave.

"That's it!" laughed Dan, as he started down the steps. "I'm hoping for 'big business' this time!"

Dalzell had used the word "gig" in a figurative sense. It was a power launch that put smartly away from the "Reed" and was speedily alongside. Dan waved his hand to his chum, who was leaning over the bridge rail.

Dave did not return to the chart-room. He received the report of his chief engineer at the bridge telephone, then gazed musingly out over the crowded waters of the port. It was a busy scene, bristling with war activities.

Having compared his watch with the clock on the bridge, Dave glanced frequently at that time-keeper. Five minutes before the hour was up he gave a quiet order to the watch officer, who telephoned to the engine-room and then issued brisk deck orders. At this time Lieutenant Fernald, executive officer, joined the group on the bridge, as did also the navigation officer.

Promptly to the minute the "Grigsby," anchor up, turned and steamed slowly out of the harbor. As she passed, none of the other craft made signals. As though unnoticed Dave's ship slipped out of port, the "Reed" following.

Then out upon the Channel the two destroyers moved, into the lane now followed by all craft that sailed between England and the continent.

"All clear hereabouts," signalled the master of a small mine-sweeping craft, meaning that the destroyers, while in that immediate vicinity, might feel secure against the hidden mines with which the enemy were wont to strew these waters.

"A few miles from here," Dave murmured to Fernald, "we shall have to look after our own security. It is going to be lively work."

"Yes, sir?" Fernald inquired, with a rising inflection, for he did not know the purpose of this cruise.

Turning to make sure that the signalman could not overhear, Darrin went on, in a lower voice:

"Our orders take us out to wage war against the German mine-layers!"

"A great work, sir!" replied the executive officer with enthusiasm. "There is sure to be plenty of sport. Then the enemy mine-layers have been working more industriously of late?"

"The waters to the north are more thickly strewn with mines than at any time previously," Dave continued. "Six British mine-sweeping craft have been sent north to do all they can to remove those hidden perils from the paths of transports and freighters. Our first mission is to protect the mine-sweepers as far as possible, but we are also to keep a sharp lookout for German submarines; and especially submarines of the mine-laying kind."

"I understand, sir," Fernald nodded. The tone of enthusiasm had faded from his voice. Now he displayed only the grave interest of the professional sea-fighter.

"All officers and men will have to work twice as hard as usual," Darrin went on. "There will be some chance to sleep, but no other leisure. Meals will be taken in the least possible time. Our entire crew must be at all times ready for instant response to the call to quarters."

"That will not be hard in such times, sir," answered Fernald. "All officers and men laid in a good supply of sleep while in port. A few added waking hours in each day won't hurt any of us."

"Direct all officers to see that they and their men are fully awake and alert at all times when they are on duty," continued Dave. "Otherwise, we are not likely to make port again. Dalzell and I have been intrusted with keeping down the mine-laying peril as close to zero as possible."

"Very good, sir," replied Lieutenant Fernald. That capable executive officer had nothing more to say at present, for his quick mind was already devising methods for keeping the crew unusually alert.

An hour and a half after sailing night had settled down. The English shore was but a vague, distant line. A short, choppy sea was running. In the sky was a new moon that would set early.

The watch had changed, but Dave and his executive officer remained on the bridge. Down in the wardroom such officers as were off duty were stowing away food in record time.

Half a mile off to the west steamed the "Reed." Suddenly the lookouts on both craft reported a vessel ahead. Orders quietly given sent the men to gun stations. All eyes were turned on the approaching craft. Then her identification signal shone forth in the night. The stranger was a British scout cruiser racing back to port from some errand.

In almost the same instant Dave and Dan displayed recognition signals, yet the two Yankee craft closely watched the stranger until she moved between them, when she was fully recognized as one of John Bull's friendly sea-racers.

"Any enemy signs?" Dave signalled.

"No," came the answer.

Soon the British scout cruiser had passed on into the night and vanished, but the Yankee lookouts kept vigil even more zealously than before.

Half an hour later an English patrol boat, after exchange of signals, passed near by on Dave's port side. Twenty minutes after that two British mine-sweepers were found at work combing the seas with their wire sweepers. If those wires should touch a hidden mine it would be quickly known to the seamen who operated the mine-detecting device, and the mine would be hauled up and taken aboard the mine-sweeping craft, provided it did not explode in the meantime.

As these two mine-sweepers were under Darrin's command, at need, he steamed near one of the pair, and, ordering a navy launch over the side, went to visit one of the Britons.

"There's not very much in the way of catches to-night, sir," reported the commander of the sweeper, a ruddy-faced, square-shouldered young Englishman in his twenties, who had been watch officer on a steamship at the outbreak of the war. "Sometimes the fishing is much better."

"This is the area in which we have been ordered to make a strict search," Dave observed.

"I know, sir. But, according to my experience, we may search for hours and find nothing at all, and then, of a sudden, run into a mine field and take up a score of the pests."

"What is your present course?"

The commander of the mine-sweeper named it, adding the distance he had been ordered to go.

"And the other sweeper sticks near by you?"

"Yes, sir. In that way there's a much better chance of one of us striking a regular mine field. Then again, sir, if one of us gets into trouble, as sometimes happens, the other craft can stand by promptly."

"What is the most common trouble?"

"First," explained the Englishman, "being torpedoed by a submarine; second, touching off a mine by bad handling; third, being sunk by some raiding German destroyer."

"Then you often hit mines?"

"Since the war began, sir," replied the young Englishman, "we've lost—" He named the number of mine-sweepers that had disappeared without leaving a trace, and the number that were definitely known to have been torpedoed or to have hit floating mines.

"As you see, sir," the Englishman went on, "it's no simple thing that we have to do. I lay it to sheer luck that I've escaped so long, but my turn may come at any moment. I've lost a number of friends in this same branch of the service, sir."

"Then you would call mine-sweeping the most dangerous kind of naval service performed to-day?" Dave suggested.

"I don't know that I'd say that, sir, but it's dangerous enough."

Many more pointers did Darrin pick up from this young officer of long experience in mine-hunting.

"I'm going farther north," said Dave. "If you run into anything and need help, send up rocket signals and we'll steam back to you at top speed."

Before ten o'clock that night Darrin had encountered and spoken with or signalled to the commanders of not less than a dozen mine-sweeping craft. What struck Dave as the most prominent feature of these small, unpretentious craft was the slow, systematic way in which they performed their duty.

"It's a wonderful work," Dave explained to Fernald. "If it were not for these dingy, stub-nosed little craft, and the fine spirit of their crews, hundreds of steamships would probably be blown up in these waters in a month. The Hun sneaks through these waters, laying mines, mostly from submarines built for the purpose, and these patient mine-sweeper commanders go along after them, removing most of the mines from the paths of navigation."

Having cruised as far north as his instructions directed him to do, Darrin ordered the "Grigsby" and the "Reed" to turn about and nose their way back under bare headway.

Every mine-sweeper carried a radio outfit for sending messages. Each craft was also supplied with the mast-head "blinkers" for flashing night signals. When the craft signalled to, however, was near enough, colored lights operated from the deck were used instead, that the messages might not be sent far enough into the night to be picked up by skulking enemy craft.

"It looks like a night of tame sport, sir," said Fernald, just before he went below for a nap.

"It has been quiet so far," Darrin agreed. "But the most striking thing in naval service is that whatever starts comes without warning. We might have a whole week as quiet as to-night has been, and then run into twenty-four hours of work that would give both of us gray hair."

An hour after Fernald went below Dave had a steamer chair brought to the bridge, also a rug. The chair was placed where a canvas wind-shield would protect the sitter from the keen edge of the wind.

"I'm going to doze right here, Mr. Ormsby," Dave explained to the ensign who was on bridge watch. "I'm to be called the instant anything turns up."

Accustomed to such sleeps Darrin had barely closed his eyes when he was off in the Land o' Nod. Some time afterwards the sharp orders of Ensign Andrews, new officer of the bridge watch, caused Darrin to open his eyes, cast aside the rug and spring to his feet all in the same instant.

"Torpedo coming on our starboard bow, sir," reported Mr. Andrews, turning and finding his chief at his post.

At that instant the "Grigsby" gave a sharp turn to port and sprang ahead under quickened speed.

Bump! Swift as the discovery had been made, quickly as the saving orders had been given, the oncoming torpedo bumped the hull of the "Grigsby" with a crash audible to those within a hundred feet of the point of impact. But it did not strike full on, the contact being only glancing, like that of a boat going alongside a landing stage. The watchers from the bridge saw the torpedo's wake as the deflected projectile continued on its harmless way.

"We couldn't have had a much narrower squeak than that!" Dave ejaculated. "Andrews, I congratulate you."

"I'm naturally interested in saving the ship, sir, and my own skin as well," replied Ensign Andrews with a grin.

Dave, not having taken his eyes from the faint streak on the water, called for highest speed and a complete turn. Then, ordering the rays of the searchlight to play over the water, Darrin sent the "Grigsby" racing, bow-on, toward the spot from which he judged the torpedo to have been launched. In the meantime Dalzell's "Reed" had turned her prow in the same general direction, steaming slowly after the "Grigsby."

"The Hun can't be located," Dave confessed, a few minutes later. "That chap is like most of the other Hun submarine commanders. He'll launch a torpedo by stealth, but as soon as he knows the destroyer is after him he hunts depth and runs away."

Dave's next order was to send a wireless message, warning all mine-sweepers and other craft that an enemy submarine had been discovered in that location.

Though no word had been passed for Lieutenant Fernald, that executive officer, awakened by the bump and the abrupt change in the destroyer's course, hurried to the bridge.

"Did you get a good rest, Fernald?" Dave queried, half an hour later.

"Fine, sir."

"Then I am going to the chart-room to rest for a while. I got chilled dozing in that chair. Set the bell going in the chart-room if I'm wanted."

Then Dave slept on, without call, for a few hours, well knowing that Lieutenant Fernald could well fill his place. The first signs of dawn awakened Darrin. He sprang up, reaching for the bridge telephone.

"All secure, sir," reported Fernald, from the bridge.

Dave therefore delayed long enough to make his toilet—a none too frequent luxury aboard a destroyer in the danger zone. Then, fully refreshed and ruddy, Darrin drew on his tunic and over that his sheepskin coat. Placing his uniform cap on his head he stepped out on deck before the sun had begun to rise up above the sea.

In the distance, in three different directions, as many British mine-sweepers could be seen patiently combing the seas for mines.

"What number recovered?" Dave signalled.

"Three," replied one craft. "Five," said another. "One," came from the third sweeper.

"Nine in all," Dave remarked to Fernald. "We're in a mine field, then. We shall need to be vigilant."

The sun soon rose, strong and brilliant, only to pass behind a bank of clouds and leave the air damp and chilly. An hour later a fog settled over the English Channel, soon becoming so dense that one could not see beyond about three hundred yards.

Dave went below to a hurried breakfast. Returning, he sent Lieutenant Fernald to his meal and rest.

"I'll remain on the bridge all day, unless this fog lifts," Darrin decided. He increased the number of lookouts and ordered slow speed, so that the long, narrow destroyer, capable of racing rapidly over the waves, now merely crept along.

When the watch was changed Dave barely returned the salutes of the departing and oncoming watch officers, for his whole attention was centered on the sea. Half an hour after that he started slightly, then stared hard.

Off the starboard bow he thought he made out something moving as slowly as the "Grigsby" herself was proceeding.

"Pick that up, Mr. Ormsby, and see if it's anything more than a dream," ordered Dave, pointing.

Instantly the course of the destroyer was changed several points to starboard and speed increased a trifle.

Through the haze there soon developed the outlines of a steam craft, set low in the water, and of not more than two thousand tons. She was not a handsome craft, but, on the contrary, appeared ghostlike as she stood only half-revealed through the fog.

Undoubtedly the stranger had a lookout up forward, but no sign of one could be made out as the "Grigsby" gained on her.

Her markings indicated that she belonged to one of the neutral countries to the northward. The wet flag that she flew drooped so tightly around the staff that nothing could be learned from that bit of bunting.

"One of the neutral traders," remarked Ensign Ormsby.

"She must give an account of herself," Dave answered. "Whatever she is, or carries, she doesn't look like a craft to be entrusted with a valuable cargo."

As the "Grigsby" ranged up alongside, an officer stepped out from the stranger's wheelhouse and came to the rail.

"What craft is that?" Dave demanded.

The skipper, if such he was, replied in broken English, naming a neutral country, and adding that the vessel was the "Olga," bound for an English port with a cargo of wood pulp.

"I knew she couldn't carry a costly cargo," Dave muttered, then commanded, through a megaphone:

"Lie to and stand by to be inspected."

"Vat?" demanded the foreign skipper, in evident amazement.

Dave repeated the order.

"But ve all right are," insisted the skipper, "vot I told you iss our cargo."

"Lie to, just the same," Dave commanded. "We'll be aboard at once."

That made the skipper angry, but he dared not resist. The muzzles of two of the "Grigsby's" three-inch guns were pointed straight at him now, so the clumsy craft stopped and lay tossing on the choppy sea.

Ensign Burton and a boarding crew were told off for one of the power launches. At the last instant Dave decided to go with the party and took his place in the launch. He was first aboard the stranger when the launch had been made fast alongside.

It was now a younger officer who met him at the rail.

"Where is your skipper?" Darrin demanded.

"He me has given der papers to you show," replied the younger officer. "Come mit me to der cabin, please."

"I must see this craft's master, and at once," Darrin insisted.

"He here cannot be at dis minute," replied the foreign mate. "To de cabin mit me come, please."

"Your cargo is wood pulp, you say?" Dave continued.

"Yes, sir."

"Where is it?"

"In our hold, already, sir," answered the mate.

"Throw off that hatch," Dave directed, pointing. "I am going to inspect your cargo."

The hatch was promptly uncovered. Leaving Burton and his men on deck, Dave descended into the hold by a ladder, followed by the mate and two of the "Olga's" seamen. A brief inspection proved that the hold was well filled with a cargo of wood pulp.

"Now, you vill go to de after hold, please?" asked the mate, as Darrin climbed up to the deck.

"Yes," Dave nodded, and went aft, followed by four of his men, while Burton and the others remained forward. Here in the after hold the same kind of cargo was found. The "Olga" looked like a straight enough craft, but there was something in the manner of the mate that made Darrin suspicious.

Calling two of his seamen below Dave produced a tape measure.

"Get the distance from the hatchway to the after end of this hold," he directed.

Then, wheeling, he noted that the mate's face had turned to a greenish color.

"What ails you, man?" Darrin demanded, eyeing the fellow sharply.

"N-n-nutten, sir," stammered the mate.

One of the seamen reported the measurement he had taken.

"Now, go on deck and measure aft from the hatchway," Dave commanded.

The instant that Darrin was left alone with the mate a pair of muscular arms encircled the throat of the young American naval commander from behind. In the same instant the mate sprang at him. The two assailants, taking him so by surprise, overcame Darrin with comparative ease. In the same moment they backed him through a small doorway opening into the hold forward.

Down on his back Dave Darrin was thrown, the skipper sitting on his chest, while the mate swiftly drew the door to and securely bolted it. In this stuffy apartment, lighted only by two swinging lanterns, Darrin realized that he must fight promptly if he expected to escape.

A steel tube was pressed against one of Dave's temples, while a hoarse, low voice proclaimed:

"Say a vord, and you die shall!"

It was the skipper who was holding a revolver to Darrin's head, and the returning mate bent over with an iron hatch bar in his right hand.

"You do vill vat we tell you—yes!" insisted the skipper, his breath coming fast.

II. "The Accursed Power of Gold!"

Dave made no struggle.

"You're a pair of fools!" he declared, somewhat hoarsely, for the effects of the severe choking were still present.

"Fools, maybe," assented the skipper of the "Olga." "But if ve must trouble have den you die shall."

"What do you want me to do?" Darrin demanded.

"You send your men to your ship back," declared the big fellow. "Den your ship it must out of sight go yet. Ve shall sail back vonce. If your ship, or any udder ship to stop us try, den you die shall already—on deck, in sight your friends of."

"You big chump!" uttered Darrin.

"Vy you call me dot?"

"Because, no matter what you do or don't do to me, you are going to be taken and punished. Do you think my ship would sail without me?"

"Maybe, sooner dan see you killed vonce," glowered the skipper of the "Olga."

"You idiot, my subordinates, their suspicions aroused, are bound to take this craft, no matter what happens to me. They must do their duty without consideration for my safety."

"So?" uttered the skipper, looking at Dave dully.

"So!" Darrin assured him.

"But den you die must vonce."

"Go ahead and kill me," Darrin dared him.

"But if you vill to reason yet listen—"

"You're wasting time and breath," Darrin assured him, coolly.

Just then something happened. Darrin, using a trick that he had learned on the wrestling mat and had since perfected, threw both his arms around the left arm of the "Olga's" skipper. Clasping his hands and pressing his arms against the skipper's left arm, Dave gave a great heave and rolled to his own left. The trick depended upon speed.

The skipper crashed over on his head. The revolver was discharged in the overturn, but the bullet went wild.

In the twinkling of an eye Dave had grabbed the weapon, and leaped to his feet just in time to dodge the hatch bar that the mate tried to smash down on his head.

"Back, unless you want yours right now!" Darrin challenged. Swiftly he changed the revolver into his left hand as he still covered the pair. Then he reached for his own automatic, throwing off the safety device.

"Now, you, Mr. Mate, slip around and unbolt the door, throwing it open," Dave ordered. "Any sign of a trick will end your life on the spot!"

Seemingly cowed, the mate obeyed.

"Open the door—throw it wide open," Dave commanded.

The door was thrust ajar just as the two seamen with the tape reached the bottom of the ladder coming from the deck. These two seamen stared in astonishment at the stuffy apartment off the after hold.

"Men, take charge of these two rascals!" Darrin commanded, briskly. "Step lively, both of you!"—this last to skipper and mate, who obeyed as though dazed.

"Pass them up on deck as prisoners," ordered Darrin, and this was done, the two seamen drawing their revolvers and standing by the "Olga's" discomfited officers.

"Now, for your report," Darrin went on. One of the sailors reported the deck-length from hatchway to stern-post.

"A difference of twenty-one feet," smiled Dave, darkly, pointing aft in the hold. "You see, men, there are a good many feet of length to be accounted for, which means that there is another compartment aft of this hold. You," turning to one of the sailors, "go forward and request Ensign Burton, with my compliments, to take charge of this steamer. He will round up the crew and place them under guard. Then the ensign will leave a petty officer in charge of deck and prisoners and report to me here."

Within a very short time Mr. Burton had so reported. Dave, in the meantime, having worked his way over the cargo, had found a cleverly concealed door at the after end of the hold.

"There should be a key to this door, sir," said Ensign Burton, "but if there is a key-hole we are unable to find it. If this really be a door it must be operated by a hidden spring."

"Perhaps an axe will work as well as either key or spring," Darrin suggested. "Pass the word for one."

The axe was brought by a heavily built seaman, who prepared to swing it against the door panelling.

"Break away the boards as gently as possible," continued Dave. "There may be an explosive device on the other side of the panelling. For that reason I'll stand by you, to take equal risk."

"If there is any risk, I'd rather you wouldn't take it, sir," urged the sailor.

"Thank you, but I'll stand by. Swing the axe," ordered Dave.

A few blows knocked in the panelling, revealing, beyond, a room of considerable size. Into this stepped the two officers, followed by the seamen with them. Unlike any part of the ship they had previously seen, this place was lighted by electricity. Burton found the switch, and turning it on, let in a flood of light.

"Sir, did you ever!" gasped the ensign.

The purpose of this room was all too plain. It was fitted with compressors, leading to a tube that left the ship under water. A small but powerful crane was in place over a closed hatchway. The latter, when opened, was found to lead down into a second hold, also electrically lighted. The two officers explored this second hold.

"Mines were kept here," Dave nodded, "and were hoisted above as needed. They were dropped astern by means of a compressed air apparatus which, when the mine tube was open, kept the sea from entering. This ugly looking little steamer, outwardly a wood pulp carrier, is really a very capable mine-layer. She has been busy, too, on this cruise to England, but had sown all her mines before we overhauled her."

"It's plain enough, sir," agreed Ensign Burton.

"Confound this rascally skipper!" blazed Darrin, wrathfully. "While naval craft have been searching everywhere for submarine mine-layers, this skipper has been sailing openly on the seas and sowing mines right under the eyes of our allies! The accursed power of gold! This skipper, his mate and crew have been selling their very souls to the Hun for a bit of his miserable money!"

"They won't do it again, sir!" uttered Burton, grimly.

"Mr. Burton, you will remain aboard as prize officer, and take the 'Olga' into the nearest British port and turn her over to the British Admiralty authorities. On receiving competent orders you will rejoin."

"Very good, sir."

"And now we'll hurry above and try to get hold of this ship's papers before any rascal has a chance to destroy them."

Boatswain's Mate Runkle had kept the officers and crew of the "Olga" under such close guard that they were unable to get at their papers, which were quickly found by Darrin in the cabin to which he had first been invited on boarding the "Olga."

Out on deck, herded forward, were master and mate, seamen, engineers and stokers, a motley-looking outfit of twenty-one men all told.

"Bring that fellow here," Dave directed, coming on deck after having examined the ship's papers and then turning them over to Ensign Burton.

The master, purple-faced and ugly-looking, his eyes cast down, was brought before Darrin.

"Well, sir," announced Dave Darrin, eyeing the man grimly, "we have seen the cargo you have on board, and we have been able to judge the character of the cargo that you have dropped overboard."

The skipper started, but did not make any reply in words.

"How could you ever bring yourself to commit such villainy?" Darrin demanded, sternly. "You are not a German?"

"No," assented the other, shifting his weight from his right foot to his left.

"You are a subject of a neutral country."

"Dot is true," admitted the skipper.

"And yet, for hire, you and your men have been engaged in sowing mines, and have taken pay from Germany for your crimes."

"Mines? No! Ve do it not any. Ve never any had," declared the skipper.

"Tell that to an Admiralty court-martial," Darrin retorted. "You will have difficulty in clearing yourself. Fellow, you will find that you and your men will be charged with piracy, for you have been sowing death and destruction in the seas. Indeed, there can be no estimating how many ships you have already helped send to the bottom, no guessing how many lives your infamous work has cost. And you a neutral! Piracy!"

Skipper, mate and chief engineer turned pale at this significant speech. The rest of the crew looked on in stolid wonder, for they understood no word of English.

"Vat? You proof it can't!" quivered the skipper.

"Wait!"

Dave gave Ensign Burton an order in an undertone. The ensign hurried to the bridge and almost immediately from the "Olga's" whistle a series of sharp blasts struck out on the air.

From the distance came an answering whistle. The "Olga's" whistle sounded again, and continued at minute intervals, until the outlines of another craft came up out of the mist and proved to be one of the mine-sweepers.

Dave had already reasoned out the probable course of the neutral country's freighter in the last hour before he had overhauled it. As the mine-sweeper slowly came abreast, Darrin, a megaphone at his lips, shouted an order for the course to be taken by his small helper, and added:

"Sweep thoroughly, and try to find some mines near by."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Within fifteen minutes a distant whistle came up from the fog.

"They've picked up one mine," Darrin announced.

Ten minutes later the sweeper's signal whistle was repeated.

"Two mines," he added, and the "Olga's" skipper shivered slightly.

Twenty minutes later came a whistle that was barely heard.

"Three mines," clicked Dave, and ordered the recall sounded, to be by direction signals at minute intervals.

"You make dot noise too much den have us all torpedoed yet," protested the "Olga's" skipper.

"If that happens, we have a rescue craft near at hand," retorted Darrin, meaning the "Grigsby," though the destroyer was now hidden by the fog. "That was more than you knew when you planted mines to destroy vessels on the high seas."

"I did noddings do," growled the skipper.

In time the mine-sweeper came up into view, again reporting that she had picked up three mines by sweeping broadly over the course that the "Olga" was believed to have taken. Then a junior officer from the sweeper came aboard with the measurements of the captured mines. These dimensions were quickly found to correspond with those of the planting device installed in the secret compartment of the "Olga."

"Which proves, or doesn't prove, that the 'Olga' sowed the mines," Dave declared. "That remains for the court-martial to decide. But the three mines just swept up will be interesting evidence for the court to consider."

Learning that the commander of the mine-sweeper would be glad to furnish some members for a prize crew, and to convoy the prize into port, Dave decided to leave Ensign Burton aboard with only three men from the "Grigsby," filling out the prize crew with English sailors. This was accordingly done. Dave's own ship was then signalled and located by whistle, and the launch started on its return.

"Keep that captured crew under strict guard. Don't give them any chance to recapture their vessel!" was Dave's last warning to Ensign Burton.

The "Olga" quickly faded away in the fog and then the "Grigsby" was picked up and boarded.

"Great work, sir, I'd call it!" declared Lieutenant Fernald, when he heard the details of what had taken place.

"The scoundrel, to sail as a neutral, and do such dirty work for the Huns for mere pay!" uttered Dave, indignantly. "Fernald, do you know that there were moments when I had to restrain myself to keep from kicking that scoundrel about his own deck?"

"I can understand the temptation," nodded the executive officer.

"On second thought, though," Darrin continued, "the skipper is certainly being much worse punished by the suspense of mind in which his present plight places him. He knows that, if convicted, the finding of the court will be 'piracy,' and he knows the punishment for that crime."

"It used to be hanging," nodded Fernald. "It seems almost a pity that this war has introduced the swifter and more merciful punishment of death by shooting."

"And as he looks around at his crew he knows that they must face the same fate with him, and he knows, too, that they know that he has brought the penalty upon them."

"But is it possible that the crew were ignorant, or most of them ignorant, of what he was doing in addition to really carrying wood pulp cargoes?" asked Fernald.

"That will be another question for the court-martial to decide," Darrin answered. "It doesn't seem possible that any member of the crew could really be in ignorance of the mine-laying work."

A long blast from either the invisible "Olga" or the equally invisible mine-sweeper now announced that the prize was proceeding on her way. The "Grigsby" did not answer, for on a sea infested by hidden enemies it was not wise to use too many whistle signals.

The "Grigsby" now returned to her course and former speed, and again started on her way. Barely ten minutes had passed when from a bow lookout came the sharp hail:

"'Ware submarine, dead ahead, sir!"

Sharp eyes, indeed, that had made out the presence of the enemy craft by sighting the slender, almost pencil-like periscope that projected some few feet above the water.

At the instant it was discovered the periscope sank down below the surface.

III. A Fight of the Good Old Kind

Full speed ahead! Then ahead she leaped. Ere the destroyer had gained full momentum her bow struck something under the water. Men were thrown from their feet by force of the shock, and the destroyer lurched heavily.

"Hope we haven't torn our bottom out," muttered Darrin as he joined the bow lookouts.

On the water appeared a patch of oil which rapidly broadened. A wooden stool and other floating objects were visible.

"That looks like a fair score," declared the young lieutenant-commander, at which the on-looking seamen grinned broadly.

Over the spot the destroyer again steamed, but nothing passing under her keel was noticed. The sea was clear before her.

It was hours later when Darrin received, in a special code of the British Admiralty, word that the "Olga" and her convoy had reached port, and the "Olga's" officers and crew had been turned over to the Admiralty officials.

In the meantime Dan Dalzell and the "Reed," as learned by occasional wireless messages, had been separated at no time by more than two miles, though neither craft was visible from the other.

Towards the end of the afternoon the fog began to lift. By nightfall it had disappeared. The stars came out and the crescent moon hung near the western horizon. Both destroyers had again turned north, the two craft having drawn in within half a mile of each other.

Dave, after a two-hour nap, went to the bridge at about two bells—nine o'clock. He had been there some ten minutes, chatting with Ensign Ormsby in low tones, when of a sudden he broke off, listening intently.

"Sounds like distant firing, sir, two points off the port bow," hailed one of the bow lookouts.

In a silence, broken only by the wash of the waters and the jar of the engines, distant rumbling sounds were again heard.

"That's gun-fire," Dave declared. "Mr. Ormsby, have the signals shown so that word may be conveyed to the 'Reed' to keep with us at full speed."

In another moment both destroyers dashed forward with a great roaring of machinery and dense clouds of smoke trailing behind from the four stacks of each.

When some miles had been covered, with the gun-fire sounding with much greater distinctness, Darrin felt that he could judge the distance properly. Turning on a screened light he consulted the chart.

"It's just about there," Darrin declared, placing his finger on a spot on the map. "Ormsby, I believe that enemy craft are bombarding the little fishing village of Helston. It's an unfortified, small port."

"That's the kind the Huns would prefer," returned the ensign, with a savage smile.

"Ask the chief engineer if a bit more speed is obtainable; then sound the bell in Mr. Fernald's cabin."

A knot an hour more was soon forced from the "Grigsby's" engines, though at that racing gait it would have been difficult for an amateur observer to have detected the fact that speed had been gained. The "Reed," too, leaped forward.

Minute after minute of breathless racing followed. Presently the flashes of guns could be made out ahead against the darkness of the night. Helston showed no lights, but the sound of bursting shells located the fishing village to those on the bridges of the approaching destroyers.

"The hounds!" blazed Dave, indignantly. "Up to their old and favorite game of killing defenseless people!"

Long ago the crew had been called to quarters. Everything was in readiness to attack the enemy.

"Three of them, and all destroyers, judging by the size of the flash of their guns," Darrin judged.

Throughout the war it has been a favorite trick of the enemy, when the opportunity offered, to send these swift craft out on night attacks. No other craft on the seas, except Entente destroyers, are capable of pursuing and overtaking German destroyers when they flee.

"Open fire when we do," was the signal flashed to the "Reed."

"We're ready," came back the instant answer.

Two minutes later one of Darrin's forward guns flashed out into the night. From the "Reed" there came a similar flash.

"Let 'em have it, fast and hard!" ordered Dave.

As the two destroyers sprang forward, firing at full capacity, the three German craft turned and steamed toward them.

"They outnumber us, and think we'll turn tail!" exulted Dave. "They may sink us, but if we do go down at least we'll try to carry our own weight in enemy ships down with us!"

Though he did not make an unnecessary movement, all of Darrin's calm had vanished. He watched every one of the "Grigsby's" shots, his eyes flashing, breath indrawn. When he saw a hit his glance was snapping. Many of the shells, however, splashed in the water only, for now the five engaged craft were circling about each other in a life-and-death struggle.

As they circled and zigzagged the German craft did not offer a very certain mark. Darrin and Dalzell were maneuvering in similar fashion.

"If we lose, we lose gamely," thought Fernald under his breath. "Was there ever a better or braver commander than Darry? He will ask no odds, but is ever willing to give them!"

"Ah!" The exclamation, half sigh, broke from Dave's lips as he saw the burst of flame and smoke as a shell landed on the superstructure of the leading German destroyer.

Then another shell from the "Grigsby" struck the same enemy's mast, smashing the crow's-nest and hurling German seamen, dead or crippled, into the sea.

Three enemy shells landed on the "Grigsby," causing no serious damage. But the fourth hit dismounted one of Darrin's forward guns, killing three men and wounding five. Hardly an instant later another German shell landed on the bridge, reducing some of the metal work to a mass of twisted junk and ripping out part of the deck.

Shell fragments and flying splinters flew on all sides, yet out of this hurricane of destruction emerged Darrin, Fernald and the watch officer, all uninjured.

An instant later Darrin shouted his orders in Fernald's ear, then gained the deck below in a series of leaps.

With one of her forward guns dismounted, the "Grigsby" was to that extent out of business. Preferring not to trust to his torpedo tubes, at this juncture Darrin raced aft, just as the destroyer began to execute a swift turn.

And now Dave's craft turned tail and ran for it, the young commander directing personally the service of the after guns as the foremost German destroyer gave chase.

Two more hits were scored by the enemy, with the result that two more of Dave's hardy young seamen were killed and four wounded. Matters were beginning to look decidedly serious.

As for Dan Dalzell, when he saw the "Grigsby" turn tail and flee, his heart gave a great bound.

"Good old Darry didn't do that unless he had to," Dan told himself. "I must cover his retreat somehow."

So, his guns barking, and men standing by at the torpedo tubes, Dalzell darted straight for the second of the German destroyers.

Fortunately there was plenty of sea-room, for Dave Darrin was not in reality running away. He was still alert to win the fight, but he wanted to win with the smallest possible loss among his own men.

The Hun craft pursuing him was the slowest of the three enemies. This Dave had already guessed. He allowed the other craft to gain for half a mile, then suddenly shot ahead. By this time several hits had been scored by both combatants, and the third enemy destroyer was maneuvering for a position from which she could render herself effective to send Darrin and his men to the bottom.

Just when it happened Lieutenant Fernald hardly knew, but once more Darrin stood on the bridge at his side.

"Circle!" Dave shouted. "The shortest circle we can make, so as not to show our broadside longer than we must."

Running under full speed, and with a helm that she minded, the "Grigsby" swung around. So unlooked for was this maneuver that the pursuing Hun craft did not succeed in making a direct hit on the Yankee ship during the turn.

And then, just as the turn brought him where he wished to be, and at deadly close quarters, Darrin gave his next order.

Forward leaped the American destroyer. Too late the astonished German commander saw the purpose of the maneuver.

With knife-like prow the "Grigsby" crashed into the German vessel, the blow striking just forward of amidships.

As the butcher's cleaver passes through the bone, so did the bow of the Yankee destroyer go through the Hun.

Yet in the moment of impact Darrin rang the bridge signal to the engine-room for full speed astern. Nor was this command executed an instant too soon. Just in the nick of time Dave's gallant little ship drew back out of the fearful hole that she had torn in the enemy.

Aboard the Hun craft the yells of dying men rose on the air, for the enemy destroyer had been all but cut in two.

Listing before an irresistible inrush of water, the German destroyer almost turned turtle, then sank quickly beneath the waves.

To the northward a muffled roar sounded, followed instantly by another. Dalzell had let go with both forward torpedo tubes, and both had scored. The second stricken enemy ship began to fill and sink slowly.

"Shall we stop to pick up men?" called Fernald.

"Too bad, but we cannot linger while one of the enemy craft still floats," Darrin replied, calmly. "Our first business is to sink enemy ships. We cannot be humane just yet. Give full chase, Mr. Fernald!"

The German survivor had already turned tail, for these Yankee fighters were altogether too swift in their style of combat. Dalzell, whose craft was nearer the fugitive, was now first in pursuit.

To avoid firing over his chum's craft Darrin steered obliquely to starboard, then joined in the chase, firing frequently with his remaining forward three-inch gun.

As to speed it proved a losing race. The German craft that had survived proved to be a shade more speedy than either the "Grigsby" or the "Reed," so the two craft in chase endeavored to make up for the difference with active fire.

Some direct hits were made. In a little more than half an hour, however, the Hun destroyer was out of range of the Yankee guns.

"We'll drive her back to her base port, anyway," Darrin signalled Dalzell.

So two narrow ribbons of searchlight glow played over the sea, keeping the enemy in sight as long as possible.

Presently the German's hull vanished below the horizon; then the lower parts of her masts and stacks went out of sight. Still the two Yankee destroyers hung on, in a race that they knew they could not win.

Only when Darrin's knowledge of these waters told him that the fleeing destroyer was safe did he signal the "Reed" to "abandon chase."

Reluctantly Dan Dalzell's little ship swung around, heading to keep the "Grigsby" company on the new course.

"Tackled superior numbers, and sank two out of three," Dave commented, calmly. "Not what one would call a poor evening's work, gentlemen."

"It was splendidly done, sir," glowed Lieutenant Fernald.

"We won't take too much credit to ourselves," Dave proposed. "Let us give some of the credit to luck."

"Not with you in command, sir," protested the executive officer.

"But we did have a lot of luck," Dave insisted.

"The luck that you planned and schemed for, with your mind working like lightning," Fernald retorted.

He was too much of a man to try to flatter his chief. Fernald spoke from the depths of complete conviction. He had known Dave Darrin's reputation at sea even before he had come to serve under this swift-thinking young officer.

Dave's first care, now, was to inspect the dismounted gun. Only a few moments did he need to convince himself that the piece was a wreck that could never be put in use again.

He then descended to the sick bay, where the surgeon and four baymen were giving tender attention to the wounded men.

"It was a good fight, men," Dave said, as he passed through the bay.

"Then I'm not kicking at what I found," cried one young sailor lad, cheerily.

"Nor I," added another. "It was worth something, sir, to take part in a fight like that. Ouch! O-o-o-h!"

Dave paused to bend over the sufferer, resting a hand on his nearer shoulder.

"I beg pardon, sir," said the lad. "I didn't mean to make such a fuss. You'll think me a regular baby, sir."

"No one is to be blamed for yelling, with a pair of shell fragment wounds like yours," broke in the surgeon, bending over and examining. "My boy, you have regular man's-size wounds."

"Not going to croak me, are you, sir?" asked the young sailor, looking up into Medico's eyes.

"Oh, no; not this trip, my lad."

"Then I don't care," returned the young seaman. "Wouldn't care much, anyway, but there's a mother at home who would! Ouch! There I go again. My mother'd be ashamed of me."

"No, she wouldn't," smiled the surgeon. "Look here, what I took out of that hole in your leg."

He held up a jagged fragment of shell. It was somewhat oval-shaped, about an inch and a half in length and half as wide.

"It hurt you more when I took that out than it would to pull a dozen of your teeth at once. Let's look at this other hole, the one on the other thigh. That's going to be a tougher job. I'll give you a few whiffs of chloroform, so you won't notice anything."

"Do I have to have the chloroform, sir?" demanded the sailor lad, who was not more than eighteen.

"You don't have to, Bassett, but it will be for your comfort," replied Medico.

"Then don't ask me to smell the stuff, sir. When this war is over I want to look back and think of myself as a fighting man—not as a chap who had to be gassed every time the sawbones looked at him. Beg your pardon, sir."

But Medico merely smiled at being called sawbones.

"Chloroform or not, just as you like, lad," the surgeon went on. "Either way, you can always look back with satisfaction on your record as a fighting man, for your grit is all of the right kind."

"Much obliged to you, sir, for saying that," replied the young sailor. "Ouch! Wait, please, sir. Let me get a grip on the cot frame with both hands. Now, I'm all ready, sir."

"Same old breed of Yankee sailor as always," Darrin smiled down into the lad's face while the surgeon began the painful work of extracting another shell fragment. This one being more deeply imbedded, the surgeon was obliged to make a selection of scalpel and tissue scissors and do some nerve-racking cutting. But the seaman, his hands tightly gripped on the edges of the operating table, which he had termed a cot, did not once cry out, though ice-cold sweat beaded his forehead under Darrin's warm hand.

Then a bayman washed down the enameled surface of the table, rinsing the blood away, and another attendant skilfully dressed and bandaged the second wound as he had done the first. Two baymen brought a stretcher and the lad was taken to a bunk. Here he was given a drink that, after five minutes, caused him to doze and dream fitfully of the battle through which he had lately passed.

By this time nearly all of the wounded had received first attention. Dave Darrin, followed by a junior officer, went forward to another, still smaller room, where he gazed down with heaving breast at the forms of the seamen who had given up their lives under the Stars and Stripes in the gallant work of that night.

Over the face of each dead man lay a cloth. Each cloth was removed in turn by a sailor as Darrin passed along.

"A good fighting man and a great romp on shore," said Dave, looking down at the face of one man. "One of the best fellows we ever had on any ship I've ever served on," he said, glancing at another face. "A new lad," he said, of a third, "but he joined on so recently that I know only that he was a brave young American!" And so on.

It was just as the sailor was laying the cloth back over the features of the last one in the row that a seaman sprang into the room precipitately.

"Beg pardon, sir," he called excitedly, "but telephone message, with compliments of executive officer, and commanding officer's presence is desired on the bridge—instantly!"

That surely meant business!

IV. What a Floating Mine Did

As Dave reached the deck he caught a fleeting glimpse of a big steamship ahead, which was revealed in the glare of the destroyer's searchlight.

But he did not stop to linger there. Up to the damaged bridge he ran as fast as he could go.

Evidently putting on her best effort at speed the steamship was moving forward fast in a zig-zagging course.

"She was working her radio and blowing her whistle, all in the same moment, sir," Lieutenant Fernald explained. "She must have seen a torpedo that passed by her. There must be a submarine somewhere, but we haven't picked up a sign of it as yet."

The ship was nearly two miles away. Having seen the destroyer's searchlight the big craft's whistle was again blowing.

"Her master hardly expects to get away from the submarine," Dave observed, and instantly turned his night glass on the dark waters to try to pick up some sign of the Hun pirate craft that was causing all this excitement aboard a respectable neutral liner.

"She's a Dutch craft," Dave commented. "Head in, Mr. Fernald, as that will give us a better chance to try to find out on which side of her the pest is operating. Ask her which side."

Promptly the signal flashed out from the blinkers of the "Grigsby." Plainly the excited skipper of the liner hadn't thought of offering that important bit of information.

"Starboard side, probably eight hundred yards away," came back the Dutchman's blinker response.

Dave accordingly ordered the "Grigsby" laid over to starboard and raced on to place the Yankee ship between the pirate and the intended victim.

Hardly had the course been altered, however, in the roughening sea, when a dull lurid flash some twelve or fifteen feet high was seen just under the liner's starboard bow. A cloud of smoke rose, the lower half of which was promptly washed out by a rising wave.

"That was a mine, no torpedo!" cried Dave, his eyes snapping. "Full speed ahead, Mr. Fernald, and prepare to clear away our launches. That ship cannot float long!"

Through the night glass it could be seen that throngs of passengers were rushing about the deck of the Dutch vessel. Ship's officers were trying to quell the panic that was quite natural, for the mine, if it were such a thing, had torn a huge hole in the bow, and the liner was settling by the head.

Up raced the "Grigsby," the "Reed" arriving less than a minute afterward. Both destroyers had manned their launches, and these were now lowered and cleared away.

Even though the passengers appeared to have lost their heads, the Dutch skipper proved true to his trust. He was lowering his own boats and rafts as rapidly as he could, and making swift work of getting human beings away from the stricken ship.

Fully two-score passengers of either sex jumped. Striking the water they bobbed up again, for they had not neglected their life-belts.

In the hurry one lifeboat was overturned just before it reached the water. The "Grigsby's" leading launch raced to the spot. Half a dozen jackies promptly dove over into the icy water to give a hand to passengers too frightened to realize the importance of getting quickly away from the sinking liner.

"No more men go overboard," sternly ordered Ensign Andrews, as he saw more of his men moving to the side of the launch. "Stand by to haul the rescued aboard!"

All care was needed, for the liner was a big one, and doomed soon to take her final plunge. The suction effect on small boats would be tremendous, if they were caught too close to the scene of the foundering.

Lines were cast to jackies who were towing frightened passengers. Rescue moved along swiftly, the launches from both destroyers backing slowly away from the settling craft.

"Here y'are, lady!" coaxed one seaman from the first launch, catching a line at twenty feet and placing it in the hands of a frightened woman whose teeth chattered and who was nearly dead from the cold that the icy water sent through to the marrow of her bones. "Think y' can hold on, lady? If y' can, I can go back and help some one else."

The woman, though she spoke no English, guessed the meaning of the question, and shrieked with terror.

"Oh, all right, ma'am," the sailor went on, in a tone of good-humored resignation. "I'll make sure of you, and hope that some one else won't drown."

With one arm around her, the other hand holding tight to the rope the jacky allowed himself to be hauled in alongside the launch.

"Take this lady in, quick!" ordered Jacky. "She's about all in with the cold."

"Better come on board, too, Streeter," advised a petty officer on the launch.

"Too much to be done," replied Seaman Streeter, shoving off and starting to swim back.

"Your teeth are chattering now," called the petty officer, but Seaman Streeter, with lusty strokes, was heading for a hatless, white-haired old man whom he made out, under the searchlight glare, a hundred yards away. This man, too chilled to swim for himself, though buoyed up by a belt, Streeter brought in.

"Come on board, Streeter," insisted the same petty officer.

But surely that jacky was deaf, for he turned and once more struck out. By the time that the liner had been down four minutes, and the last visible and living person in the water had been rescued, Seaman Streeter had brought in six men and women, five of whom would surely have died of the cold had he not gone to their aid. And he had turned to swim back after a possible seventh.

Nearly six hundred passengers and members of the sunken liner's crew had been saved. Of these the greatest sufferers were taken aboard the "Grigsby" and the "Reed" and the remainder were left in the boats, which were towed astern.

Dave decided that the rescued ones should be landed at an English port twenty-two miles away. This port had rail communication and prompt, effective care could be given to these hundreds of people.

As soon as the start had been made for port, roll-call was held of those who had put off in the launches. Seaman Streeter was not present, nor even accounted for. Promptly Darrin ordered the course changed and the two destroyers went back, making careful search under the searchlights of the surface of the sea near the scene of the foundering. No trace of the missing seaman was found.

Seaman Streeter did not die in battle. He perished in the gentler but no less useful field of saving human life! An orphaned sister in Iowa, his only living near relative, gazes to-day at the appreciative letter she has received from the Navy Department at Washington. Then she turns to a longer and more glowing letter written by the, to her, strange hand of David Darrin, Lieutenant-Commander, United States Navy.

In less than two hours the destroyers, with their respective strings of towed boats, arrived at the British port and the work of transferring the rescued to shore began. Dan's dead and wounded were also sent ashore.

It was afterward reported that nine human beings were unaccounted for. Four more died in the boats on the way to land.

While the transfers to shore were being made Dan Dalzell came aboard the "Grigsby" to greet his chum. They chatted while the damaged bridge was being repaired.

"Danny-boy," Dave remarked seriously, "that exploding mine showed us clearly what is expected of us. It is our task to see that all these near-by waters are cleared of such dangerous objects."

"Surely we cannot get every mine that the Huns plant," objected Dalzell.

"We must get as many of them as we can. I know that all the British mine-sweepers are constantly on the job, but if necessary we must have more mine-sweepers. We must keep the paths of navigation better cleared than proved to be the case to-night."

"Oh, say!" expostulated Dalzell, his eyes wide open, "we simply cannot, even with twice as many mine-sweepers, find every blooming mine that the Huns choose to sow in the Channel and North Sea."

"To find and take up every mine should be our standard," Dave insisted, "and we must live as close to that standard as we possibly can."

"Then we did wrong to go after the destroyers this night?" Dan demanded, curtly.

"Of course not, for that bombardment of that defenseless little town, carried on longer, might have cost as many lives as are likely to be lost in the case of a steamship hitting a floating mine."

"We can't do everything at the same time," Dan contended.

"Then we must strive to do ninety-nine per cent. of everything," Darrin urged, his jaws set. "Danny-boy, I feel as badly as you do when a single innocent life is lost in the area that we are held responsible for."

"How soon do you put for sea?" Dalzell asked.

"As soon as our boats return and are hoisted on board."

Darrin was as good as his word. Twenty-one minutes later, while dawn was still invisible, the two Yankee destroyers turned seaward again. There was more work, and sterner, for them to do, and it lurked just beyond!

V. Eyes That Looked Down From the Air

Dawn found the two destroyers cruising slowly northward, a little more than a mile apart.

Within sight of the bridges of the two craft were eight small, snub-nosed mine-sweepers. Frequently changing their course, these little craft were doing their utmost to pick up any mine that may have been planted just far enough under water to be struck below the water line by passing vessels.

"I suppose we're of the few who have ever seen the flash of an exploding floating mine," Dave remarked to Lieutenant Fernald. "The sea was so rough and choppy, last night, that the mine, at the instant of impact, happened to be in the trough of the sea and partly above water."

"Yes," nodded Fernald. "Had the waves been longer, the mine would have sunk to its usual depth. Had it not cost lives and a good ship, it would have been a sight worth seeing. As it was, since the lives and the ship had to be lost, I am glad that I was there to see it."

It was broad daylight now. Red streaks off in the east indicated that the sun would soon appear. But from the southwest something of at least equal interest appeared in the sky.

At the lookout's call Fernald turned to study the object in the sky through his glass.

"It's an airship, a dirigible," announced the executive officer.

"If an English dirigible, then it's all right," Dave nodded. "But, if it happens to be a German Zeppelin returning from a raid over England, then it will become our solemn duty to get the anti-aircraft gun in position and pray for a chance to take a fair shot."

"It's a craft of the smaller English dirigible pattern," Fernald announced, still studying the distant speck in the sky, which, of course, looked much larger in the field of his glass. "Yes, it's an unmistakable 'blimp'."

This latter is the slang name given to the British dirigibles.

"Better have the air-craft gun men at their station," advised Dave, and this was done.

Ten minutes later, however, the "blimp" was so close at hand that there could be no mistaking its identity. It belonged, beyond a question, to one of the squadrons of the Royal Naval Air Service.

"Radio message from the 'blimp,' sir," called a messenger, darting from the doorway of the wireless room. "Do you wish a written copy, sir?"

Lieutenant Fernald glanced at Dave, who shook his head.

"Let's have the message orally," Fernald called down to the deck.

"'Blimp' wants to know, sir, if these two craft are the 'Grigsby' and 'Reed.'"

"Tell the operator to admit the fact," Fernald ordered.

"Officer in charge of the 'blimp,' sir, says that he was to report and help you yesterday, but that the weather was too foggy."

"Tell the operator to send back: 'Good morning. Glad to have you with us. Signature, Darrin,'" Dave directed.

The seamen and petty officer at the anti-aircraft gun left their station. Straight onward came the "blimp," dropping much lower just as it passed over. From the car beneath the big gas-bag several men leaned over to wave friendly hands, a greeting that was instantly responded to by Dave's and Dan's jackies, for the dirigible, after sailing over the "Grigsby," turned and floated over the "Reed."

"Message from the 'blimp,' sir," again iterated the messenger on the deck. "Message says: 'We're to keep near you and try to spot submarines for you.'"

"More power to your vision," was the message sent back by Dave.

"You're working northward, toward the shoals?" asked "Blimp."

"Yes," Darrin acknowledged.

"That's a likely place to find one or two of the Hun pirates resting," "Blimp" continued.

"Always a good hunting ground," Dave assented, in a radio message.

This took place while the dirigible was flying back and forth, ahead and astern, between the destroyers and to either side of their course.

"It's a fine thing to be able to move at aircraft speed," said Lieutenant Fernald, rather enviously. "If we could only make such speed, sir!"

"If we could build ships that would steam sixty to a hundred miles an hour, then the enemy could build them also," Dave returned. "There would be little, if any, net gain for us. But if we could find the secret of doubling the speed of aircraft, and keep said secret from the boches, that would be an achievement that would soon end the war."

For ten miles the sweepers proceeded, with a total "catch" of only three mines, which must have been left-overs from other cruises. By this time the little fleet was approaching the nearest of the shoals, some three miles from shore.

"Blimp" was now well ahead, presently signalling back.

"Found a sea-hornet for you, resting in the mud."

"Good enough! We'll draw his sting," the "Grigsby's" radio reply promised.

Darrin caused a signal to be made to two of the mine-sweepers to come in close to him. The "Reed" still continued on her way further out.

Aircraft are of the greatest help in discovering submerged submarines. Depending on the altitude at which they fly, air observers are able to see, in reasonably smooth water, submarines that are moving at from eighty to a hundred feet beneath the surface. A submarine that is "resting" with her nose in the mud close to shore has more to fear from aircraft than from all other possible foes.

The aircraft men, though they can drop bombs upon such lurking craft, cannot do so with anything like the accuracy that is possible to the crews of vessels on the surface. Hence when aircraft and destroyers hunt together it is almost always left to the surface craft to give the "grace blow" to the resting submarine, as also to a submarine in motion beneath the waves.

As the "blimp" moved over the shoal in question a smoke bomb left the car and hovered almost motionless in the air, though briefly. This indicated that the submarine lay on the bottom directly underneath the smoke bomb.

"And the commander of that Hun craft knows that we are approaching," Darrin commented, as the "Grigsby" raced roaringly forward. "He can hear the noise of our propellers. If his engines are ready, he'll likely back off into deeper water."

Thrice more the "blimp" passed over the submarine that was invisible to surface eyes, and each time let loose a smoke bomb.

"Now, you're directly in line," came the radio message from above. "Move dead ahead. Will tell you when you are passing over. We'll signal the word 'drop'."

The meaning of "drop" would be clear enough. It would mean that the "Grigsby" was instantly to release, over the stern, a depth bomb.

As the "Grigsby" neared the spot speed was considerably reduced. Overhead hovered the "blimp," ready for instant signalling of one word. The command had already been passed to the men stationed by the depth bomb to let go as soon as the messenger gave the word from the operator.

As Darrin glanced upward he saw the "blimp" nearly overhead.

Suddenly the messenger's startled voice roared out the message passed by the radio operator:

"Full speed astern!"

In the same instant Lieutenant Fernald repeated the order over the engine-room telegraph. There was a jolting jar as the "Grigsby" shivered, then glided back in her own wake.

"Jove! That was a narrow squeak!" came down from the sky. "That hornet laid an egg in your path. It came within an ace of bumping your keel."

"Never did speed pay a prompter profit, then," uttered Darrin, his cheeks paling slightly.

For the Englishman's laconic message meant that the submarine had just proved herself to be of the mine-laying variety. Further, the Hun craft, hearing the destroyer's propellers almost overhead, had judged the moment at which to let loose a mine, which, rising to its proper level under water, would have struck the hull of the advancing destroyer.

Had that happened, the career of the "Grigsby" would have been over, and several officers' and seamen's names would have been added to the war's list of dead.

"Going to try again, sir?" asked Lieutenant Fernald, quietly, as Dave himself changed the full-speed-astern order.

"It's out of our line, I guess," Darrin confessed, with a smile. "Signal yonder mine-sweeper to close in on the job."

As a result of the message, and aided by the "blimp" overhead, the snub-nosed mine-sweeper steamed into position. First, her wire sweeper picked up the mine that had been sprung for the "Grigsby's" undoing, and backed away.

Then, under Dave's further order, after the mine had been hoisted on board, the snub-nosed craft moved in with a different type of sweeper. To different wires of this implement were attached small but powerful contact bombs. Jauntily the snub-nosed craft moved over the lurking place of the submarine, and passed on ahead.

From the depths came muffled sounds, followed by a big and growing spread of oil on the water.

"Enemy done for!" signalled the "blimp."

"Thank you, sir. We know it," the "Grigsby" wirelessed back.

The mine-sweeper, having passed on ahead, now circled back, her crew grinning at sight of the mass of floating oil.

The contact bombs dangling from the sweep wires had struck against the submarine's hull and exploded, letting in the water at several points. The Hun seamen were even now drowning, caught without a show for their lives, just as they had probably sent many souls to graves in the ocean.

For some minutes more the dirigible moved back and forth through the air, her observers watching for the presence of hidden enemy craft. Then, without warning, came the message:

"Sorry, but engine trouble threatens and will compel our return to land, and to our base if possible."

"The best of luck to you," Dave ordered wirelessed back to these British comrades. "We'll stand by until we're as close to shore as we can go."

For he knew that, near shore, the shoals became dangerous shallows at this point on the coast.

Away limped the "blimp," the "Grigsby" following, and standing ready to do rescue work should the dirigible need assistance.

But the "blimp" not only made her way over to shore, but vanished slowly in the distance.

All of the mine-sweepers that had come up were ordered by signal to continue sweeping over the shoals.

"I want to see more of this work personally," Dave told his executive officer, who was now to be left in command. "Clear away one of the power launches. I'll take Mr. Ormsby with me."

So Dave was taken over to one of the mine-sweeping, snub-nosed craft that had formerly been a steam trawler on the Dogger Banks. The commanding officer, Hartley, proved most glad to welcome them.

"We'll make you as comfortable as we can," promised Hartley.

"Now, please don't do anything of the sort," Darry protested. "Let us be mere spectators, or pupils, and have no fuss made over us. Instruct your men, if you'll be good enough, to omit salutes and to chat with us, if they have a chance, like comrades or pals. We want to see your real working ways, not a demonstration."

"All right, then," sighed Mr. Hartley, and passed the orders.

"When do you men sleep?" Dave inquired of a sailor who paused to light a pipe as he stood well up in the bow.

"When the blooming ship is hin dry-dock, sir," answered the British tar.

"Don't you have regular watches?"

"Yes, sir."

"How long are the watches?"

"Usually twenty-four hours in each day, sir."

Darry laughed, for he knew no living man could stand working twenty-four hours a day for any length of time.

"You were a trawler before you came into this branch of the service?" Ormsby asked.

"No, sir. Hi was a chimney sweep; that's wot made me good for this bally old business, sir."

"You like this work?" Ormsby next asked.

"Yes, sir, hit's the next best thing to being killed, sir," was the solemn response.

"Have you seen any mine-sweepers destroyed while at work?"

Instantly the sailor dropped his bantering tone, his face becoming solemn in his expression.

"You may well say that, sir," he answered. "More mine-sweepers are lost than any other kind of naval craft."

"Why is that?"

"Principally, sir, because we 'ave only a trawler's speed, and everything else that floats, including the National Debt, can overtake us."

"Is there any scarcity of men for this sort of work?" Ormsby queried.

"No, sir, it's the 'eight hof a British sailorman's ambition, sir, to die early and be buried, sir, in water a mile deep. We fairly long for hit, sir."

"Hedgeby!" came, indignantly, from Mr. Hartley, who had approached unnoticed. "What do you mean by chaffing these American officers so outrageously."

"Must 'ave mistook my horders, sir," returned Hedgeby, saluting his commander. "Some blooming bloke told as 'ow these gentlemen wanted to be treated like pals."

"The fault is mine, I guess," admitted Mr. Hartley, turning to Darrin and Ormsby. "These men are always chaffing each other, and they thought you wanted some of the same thing."

"We don't object," Dave smiled. "If hot air is the motive power that drives these men, then we want to sample it."

Hedgeby regarded this last speaker with a puzzled expression.

"If you're talking about fuel, sir," he went on, as Mr. Hartley moved away, "Hi'll say that 'ot air engines wouldn't be no good wotever on these 'ere craft. Gasoline is what we use, mostly, for our engines, sir, though some of the biggest use petroleum."

"Hot air is furnished by the men themselves," Dave explained. "It's a favorite fuel at sea."

"Maybe, sir, maybe," admitted Hedgeby, slowly, looking as solemn as an owl. "Of course you know, sir, wot's used on the Yankee boats, anyway, sir, and if your Admiralty recommends 'ot air then no doubt hit's because you Yankees know 'ow to use it better than other fuel."

"And the joke of it is," muttered Ormsby, as Hedgeby sprang to obey an order, "one can't tell whether a chap like that is laughing at us, or trying to sympathize with our ignorance."

Dave laughed, then soon forgot the chaffing, for he was greatly interested in what he saw of the work that was being carried on. Certainly, for such a comparatively slow craft, a large area of sea surface could be covered in a forenoon.

Presently Hedgeby came back to them, and Ormsby tried once more to extract some real information.

"With the amount of speed you can command," he resumed, "what does a craft like this do, Hedgeby, if a German destroyer comes racing along after you?"

"We just shut off speed, sir, and the blooming destroyer goes by so fast that nine times hout of ten she doesn't see us at all."

"But if the destroyer sees you and stops to engage, what then?"

Once more the quizzical expression faded from the British sailorman's eyes. He stepped back, resting one hand on a light gun mounted on a swivel pedestal.

"We do hour best with this piece, sir."

"An unequal combat, Hedgeby!"

"You may well say it, sir, but hat least we come hout of the fracas as well as does the submarine that our sweep locates on the bottom."

"Have you known of any case in which a mine-sweeper had any show at all against a German destroyer?"

"Yes, sir; this very craft was the boat, sir. The destroyer 'eld 'er fire and come hup close, sir, to 'ave fun teasing us. Only one shot we fired, sir, from our after gun, at the houtset, sir, but that one shot carried away the destroyer's rudder just below the water line. It was hall a piece of luck, sir."

"And then?" pressed Ormsby, for at last Hedgeby seemed to be imparting real information.

"Well, of course, sir, the 'Uns started hin at once to rig a jury rudder with timbers and canvas."

"Yes?"

"Naturally, sir, we didn't give 'em any time or chance we could 'elp, sir. We sailed round and round 'er, taking position so that we could play both guns on 'er at the same time. She couldn't steer, sir, to back 'er aim, that 'ere 'Un, so we banged away at 'er stacks and her water line until she was worse than 'elpless."

"Did you sink her?"

"No, sir. She was captured."

"By whom?"

"By two of 'is majesty's destroyers, sir, that came up. And maybe you think Hi'm joking, sir, w'en Hi tell you that the destroyers were credited with the capture because they made the 'Un strike 'is colors and take a prize crew."

Subsequently Dave and Ormsby learned from Mr. Hartley that this account was a true one.

"But we got a bit of credit in the public press," Hartley added, modestly.

Right after that it was reported that one of the wire sweeps had located a bomb. Instantly several men were rushed to aid in landing the prize. Dave and Ormsby hurried to join the group and watch a mine being taken aboard.

On account of its weight the deadly thing was handled by tackle. Carefully the men proceeded to hoist the mine aboard.

"You'll note the little horns standing out from the top of the mine," explained Mr. Hartley, pointing to the circular mine. "These horns are usually called studs. Hit one of these studs even a light blow with a tack hammer, gentlemen, and the mine would explode. A mine like this is more deadly than the biggest shell carried by a super-dreadnaught. Let this mine explode, for instance, under our hull forward, and it would tear us to pieces in a way that would leave us afloat for hardly sixty seconds. Moreover, it would kill any man standing at or near the rail over the point of contact."

He had no more than finished speaking, while the mine was being hoisted aboard, than a terrified gasp escaped the workers.

For the mine slipped from its tackle, and slipped back toward the water, striking the side hull in its downward course!

Dave Darrin did not move. He knew there would not be time to escape!

VI. In the Teeth of the Channel Gale

Splash!

The mine sank below the surface.

A quick turn by the helmsman at the wheel, and the course changed violently on the instant.

"No stud struck or scraped the side as the mine went down!" exclaimed Mr. Hartley, in a voice as cool as though he were discussing the weather. "That was what saved us."

"That, and the presence of mind displayed by your man at the wheel," Dave calmly supplemented. "That quick turn of the wheel saved your hull under the water line from striking against the infernal thing."

"I thought we were goners!" exclaimed Ormsby.

"So did I," Dave nodded, "until I saw the thing sink and then realized how prompt the helmsman had been to act without orders."

"The helmsman's act was almost routine," Hartley continued. "On a craft like this every man instinctively knows what should be done in any moment of escapable peril."

Dave now withdrew the elbow which, up to now, he had leaned against the rail. He knew that he had been within a hair's breadth of instant death, but there was nothing in his bearing to betray the fact.

Hartley quickly gave the order to put about.

"Another try for that slippery customer, eh?" queried Ormsby.

"I'd feel like a murderer, if I knowingly left that thing in the sea, to destroy some fine craft," declared Mr. Hartley, gravely. "Once we've located a mine we never leave it. We'll make the 'catch' again, but we'll inspect our tackle before we try to take it aboard. I think you gentlemen had better step back well out of the way."

"Of course we will, sir, if we are really in the way," Darrin smiled.

"You're not in our way," Hartley promptly denied. "But you will hardly care, should the tackle still be defective, to be loitering at the point of danger."

"I want to see you repair the tackle," Dave replied. "Then I want to see you make the grapple again and bring the mine safely on board."

"All right, gentlemen, if you love danger well enough to take the risk twice when you're only spectators," Hartley answered, with a shrug of his shoulders.

Again the mine was caught, grappled, and this time successfully hoisted on board.

All of this Darrin and his junior officer noted carefully, even giving a hand at the work.

Through the day at least one of the mine-sweepers continued over this line of shoal, trying constantly with the sweeps. Farther out to sea Dalzell and the "Reed" accompanied others of the craft. By nightfall it was reported that more than sixty mines had been picked up.

"The mine-layers must be actively at work in these waters," said Dave. "Undoubtedly they plant the mines at night, then toward daylight move in toward the shoal and hide there during the day. We'll try that shoal again after daylight to-morrow morning—weather permitting."

This last Darrin said because there were now lurking indications of a coming storm. Dave returned to his own craft in time.

By nine o'clock that night, or an hour after the new watch had gone on, the wind was howling through the rigging in a way that made conversation difficult on the bridge.

"Mr. Fernald, at the rate the weather is thickening I shall be on the bridge all night. I shall be glad, therefore, if after your last rounds of the ship, and after you have turned in your report, you will seek your berth and get all the sleep you can until you're called."

"Very good, sir," agreed the executive officer.

He would have liked to stand watch in Darrin's place, but he knew that, with a gale coming, Darrin would not consent.

By this time the destroyer was rolling at such an angle that the order was passed for the life-lines. Soon after that a second order was issued that all men on outside duty must don life-belts. Even up on the bridge, with an abundance of hand-holds, Dave and Ensign Andrews wore the belts.

With a nearly head wind from the northeast the "Grigsby" labored in the running seas, spray dashing over the bridge and against the rubber coats and sou'westers of the two officers. Below, on the deck, the water was sometimes several inches deep, gorging the scuppers in its flow overboard. Officers and men alike wore rubber boots.

"All secure, sir," reported Lieutenant Fernald, returning after his last rounds. "A nasty time you'll have of it, sir, to-night."

"Like some other times that I've known since I took to the sea," Dave shouted back through the gale.

Wild, indeed, was the night, yet the stars remained visible. The wind had increased still more by eight bells (midnight), when the watch again changed.

"Is the weather bad enough for you to have to remain here, sir?" asked Ensign Ormsby, respectfully.

"Yes," Darrin nodded. "I am charged with the safety of this craft."

Having gone the limit of her northerly patrol, the "Grigsby" had now headed about, dipping and lunging ahead of the wind and rolling as though the narrow craft would like nothing better than to turn turtle.

Owing to the fact that neither craft carried lights in these dangerous waters Dalzell had pulled far off. At this moment Danny Grin and the "Reed" were four miles nearer the mainland of Europe than the "Grigsby" was.

After an especially heady plunge, followed by some wild rolling from side to side, Dave shouted in his watch officer's ear:

"Ormsby, I'm going to make the round of the deck, to make sure that the life lines are all up and secure."

The ensign nodded. He would have preferred to go himself, but his place as watch officer was on the bridge.

As Dave went down the steps from the bridge a seaman on watch sprang to seize his arm and steady him.

"I've my sea-legs on," Darrin smiled at the sailor.

Then, holding the brim of his sou'-wester down before his face, the other hand on a life-line, Darrin cautiously made his way aft. The lines along the starboard side were secure.

At the stern stood two men, gripping the sturdy lines with both hands. Here the decks were flooded with seas coming over constantly.

Dave stood with the men for a few minutes, observing the combers that rolled against the stern, the tops breaking over the side.

"I'll have the stern watch changed every hour," he shouted at the seamen above the gale. "It's too wet to stand a full trick here. Remember, on coming off, or just before going on, to go to the galley and get your coffee."

"Thank you, sir," replied one of the men, touching the brim of his headgear.

Dave released the sternmost life-line to take a quick, oblique step toward the port lines. At that very instant a huge comber climbed aboard over the stern, the great bulk of water lifting Dave as though he were but a chip.

As he struggled for his footing he had a brief glimpse of one of the sailors battling toward him. Then a continuation of the wave carried him obliquely forward, lifting him clear of the port rail at the quarter and driving him over into the sea.

Instantly a hoarse yell rose and was repeated: "Commanding officer overboard astern, sir!"

VII. In the Hour of Despair

Dave did not hear the wild, hoarse alarm. A mass of water pounded in his ears. He felt himself going down as though headed for the bottom of the sea.

During what seemed an interminable interval Darrin kept his mouth tightly shut. He did not struggle to rise to the surface, for he knew that as soon as the driving force of the water over him had expended itself his belt would carry him up to air.

And so it did. As Darrin shook the spray from his eyes he made out the "Grigsby" only as a dark mass far ahead. Then a wave blotted her out. When next he looked he saw nothing. The third time he made out a still more indistinct mass, which, he judged, was turning to come back and look for him.

"Steady, boy!" he urged himself. "The outfit aboard that craft will make every possible effort to find me. Ah, I knew it!"

For now the ray of the searchlight streamed out, trying to pierce the murkiness of the night.

"Commanding officer overboard!"

By the shifting of the ray, too, he saw that the "Grigsby" was putting about.

"They'll pick me up soon with that light," he told himself.

He did not permit himself to reflect that, if the startled officers and men on the destroyer located him it would be by the sheerest good luck. A human head rolling among waves on a black night is a difficult object to pick up with the searchlight.

Dave now struck out enough to keep his face turned toward the light. He did not attempt to swim toward the destroyer. That long, narrow craft circled about, bringing a second searchlight to bear.

Then Dave saw the blinkers at the foremast head gleam out dully. He even read the signal:

"Lieutenant Commander Darrin overboard. Not yet located."

"That's for Dalzell's benefit," Dave told himself. "Poor old Danny-boy will be wild, and will come steaming over here at full speed. But—confound it! The 'Grigsby' is circling farther south. Evidently Fernald thinks he came back too far on his wake."

Farther and farther south went the destroyer, still sweeping the sea with her two searchlights.

Then Dave beheld, after minutes, another searchlight beam crossing the others, and knew that Dan Dalzell, aboard the "Reed," was making anxious quest for his floating chum.

Both craft, after the "Reed" had once come within a quarter of a mile, began operating further away. There was nothing on the black, roaring waters by which to locate the spot where the "Grigsby" had been when her commander was hurled overboard.

Twenty minutes passed after the "Reed" had come up. There was more talking with the blinkers between the two craft. The destroyers moved in ever widening, and then contracting, circles, but not once did either come near enough to pick up a glimpse of that one face that held occasionally above the rolling waves.

After an hour of searching there was a sorrowful conference between the officers directing the signals on the two destroyers. They decided that every possible effort had been made, and that Lieutenant Commander Darrin was surely lost.

Indeed, at about that time Dave, though he was too far away and dashed with too much spray to read the signals, had about given up hope.

Chilled to the bone by the icy waters, he had at first striven to keep himself warm by such exercise as he could apply. But now he was weakening.

Had it not been for the unusual vigor of his constitution he would have been dead by this time. It was now only a question of a little more time when he must freeze to death.

"All right, Davy-boy," he reflected, almost drowsily. "While you were alive you managed to do a few things! But poor Belle! I hope this isn't going to upset her too much!"

Even the thought of his loved young wife did not stir him much, which showed, indeed, that Darrin was near the end of his vital resources and that he must soon give up his struggle.

After a while the instinct of desperation seized him. With a last summoning of his strength he began fighting for his life.

"I won't freeze!" he cried, between grinding teeth. "I can keep moving a good while yet. I won't allow myself to die here. That would be no better than suicide!"

For a few minutes more he continued to use arms and feet in a determined effort to warm his blood against the numbing cold.

"Ha, here comes one of the destroyers, right now," Dave laughed, hysterically, as a form loomed up in the night and came toward him.

Indeed, that dark mass, which presently resolved itself into the hull of a steamship battling with the gale, seemed bent on running him down.

Nearer and nearer it came. Dave tried to shout, but found his voice too weak to be heard above the roar of wind and wave. Though he fought desperately to get out of the course of the oncoming hull, the rolling waters washed him back.

His efforts, however, had availed him somewhat, for, though he was so close that he could almost touch the hull as the bow passed him, Darrin felt that he could avoid being run down by the ship.

He tried to shout again, but only hoarse noises came from his throat. Then something splashed close to him as it struck the water. A wave washed Darrin against a rope. With all the force left in his hands he twined his fingers around the strands.

Then, though Dave did not see it, a face peered over the rail above. There came a tug at the rope, but Dave would not let go. He found himself being dragged slowly along with the hull of this craft that was battling a head wind.

When the man above found that he could not haul up the rope he peered down at the water, then set up a yell in some strange jargon.

An instant later a second face appeared behind the first. The bright gleam of a pocket flash-lamp cut the blackness to the water. There was a second exclamation, quickly followed by a command.

A third man joined the other two at the rail. Dave blinked upward at the pocket flash-lamp. He saw something descending, heard a faint whish above the noise of the gale, and felt a noose drop down over his head and shoulders.

Just how he did it Darrin cannot remember, even now, but he managed to slip that noose first under one arm pit, then the other, all the time keeping a desperate hold of the trailing rope.

A pull from above, then a dull throb of hope sent the blood through Darrin's frame as he felt the noose gather tightly under his arms. Slowly, his body bumping against the rolling hull, he felt himself moving upward.

Ready hands seized and hauled him in over the rail. At that instant Dave's senses forsook him. He collapsed on the deck, a limp, huddled, drenched human form.

Nor could he judge how much later it was when he opened his eyes again. But cold? Not a bit of it! He felt as though he were in a furnace room. Stripped, he lay in a berth, two stalwart sailors rubbing him under the direction of a third person, while a fourth was slowly forcing a hot drink down his throat. It was a strangling cough, on account of some of the fluid entering his wind-pipe, that had brought him back to consciousness.

Opening his eyes, Dave lay quietly, enjoying the warmth after his bitter experience. He noticed that the sailors who were rubbing him were dripping with perspiration. Indeed, they had a right to drip, for the steam in this little cabin had been turned on through two separate services.

Dave tried to speak, but all he could say was:

"Ugh!"

"Good! You don't feel chilled, now?" questioned the man who held the hot drink to his lips.

"Gracious, no!" Darrin whispered, hoarsely. "I'm roasting."

The man spoke to the sailors, who stopped their rubbing and spread a few thicknesses of blanket over him.

Dave's next realization was that this unknown craft did not roll so heavily as might be expected. He reasoned that the ship must be a freighter of broad beam.

Languor was stealing over him as the questioner asked:

"How do you feel?"

"Like having a big sleep," Dave whispered drowsily. His eyes closed and he dozed even before he could think to wonder if his brother officers on the "Grigsby" and "Reed" knew that he was all right.

Putting down the cup of hot drink, the man who had done the talking dismissed the three others, seated himself on the edge of the berth and placed a finger on one of Dave's unresisting wrists.

The same man was there, seated on a locker and smoking a pipe, when Dave Darrin again opened his eyes.

This time Dave sat up rather nimbly, then turned, supporting his head on one hand.

"Hullo, there!" Dave hailed, cheerily.

"Getting your strength back, aren't you?" queried the stranger.

"Yes, sir! But tell me. Is this the same night I was picked up and introduced on board, so to speak?"

"The same night."

"About how many hours ago?"

"Five, I guess."

"Then it must be near daylight."

"Yes."

"Any American destroyers sighted hereabouts, do you know?"

"Not at last accounts. We have been keeping a lookout, too, for your uniform proclaimed you to be a Yankee naval officer."

"What ship is this?"

"The 'Rigsdak.'"

"Norwegian?" Dave inquired.

"Danish freighter, homebound from Hartlepool."

"And you're the ship's doctor?"

"Yes. Unless we meet one of your own country's ships you'll be ashore in Denmark before noon today. But the sea is so rough that I do not believe we could transfer you, even if we met one of your own craft."

"Denmark isn't such a bad country," Dave laughed, pleasantly. "I've been there. And you're mighty quick people. It didn't take you long to rope and haul me on board."

"Because our second officer had a man in his watch who used to be a cowboy in your country, and he can handle a lariat well. Travelling through these dangerous waters we always carry a line forward with a noose at one end. You're the third man we've roped out of the water in six months."

"But what was that first line that was thrown overboard—I mean the one I grabbed and held on to?"

"There was a bucket at the end of that rope," the ship's surgeon informed Dave. "The deck-hose is out of order, and a sailor threw the bucket over to haul up water with which to wash down the passageway."

"I'm thankful he made the cast just at that instant," Dave murmured.

"Providence must have directed the cast," replied the doctor. "And it wasn't your time to die."

"I've no right to die, if I can possibly prevent it!" Dave rejoined warmly. "I'm only a small-fry officer, to be sure, but even at that I'm needed, like every other trained American officer, until Germany has been taught the great lesson of law and morality."

"Amen to that!" agreed the doctor, fervently.

"You're not pro-German, then, like so many of your countrymen?" Dave asked, with a smile.

"There are few of us who are pro-German in Denmark," replied the ship's surgeon. "Though, until your Entente allies can protect us against powerful Germany's wrath it is not prudent for us to be too outspoken in favor of England, France and America."

"From your accent you've been in our country?" Dave hinted.

"I took my degree in an American medical school, but I am a Dane. And now, sir, your name?"

"David Darrin, lieutenant-commander, United States Navy."

"And I am Dr. Valpak. And now, Mr. Darrin, I advise that you rest your mind, eat what I am going to order sent here, and then take another nap."

Dave gladly ate of the sea biscuit and soup that were brought to him, after which Dr. Valpak felt his pulse, administered a drink of something with an unfamiliar taste, then uttered the professional command:

"Sleep!"

Dr. Valpak closed the door from outside. Dave closed his eyes, and enjoyed the luxury of another nap.

VIII. Dave Meets the Fate of the Sea

It was almost nine o'clock in the morning when Darrin awoke. He at once realized how refreshed he was. His had been a close call, but fortunate accident and his own strong body had pulled him through.

There on the floor were his rubber boots, on the locker his underclothing, while on knobs against the cabin wall hung the garments that comprised his uniform.

Rising, Dave was delighted to find himself still strong. Without ado he drew off and tossed across the berth the coarse nightgown that some one had put on him. Then he began to dress.

Everything was dry—indeed, laundered. These new Danes of the sea knew how to be hospitable. So Darrin dressed, and, when he rang for hot water, a steward appeared with the ship's barber, who aided in Darrin's toilet. Before this had been finished Dr. Valpak thrust his head in to inquire:

"Do I intrude?"

"Only as a personage from the pages of 'Arabian Nights,' Doctor," Darrin laughed. "Come in."

Not only did the doctor come in, but soon, also, a waiter, who set up a small table made fast to the wall, and on it spread such a breakfast as made Dave's heart rejoice.

Wind and sea had abated much. The broad "Rigsdak" now rode the water with comparatively little roll. Dave sat down to enjoy his breakfast, and Dr. Valpak soon withdrew.

Just after the finish of the meal the surgeon returned, bringing with him this time the ship's master, one Kennor, who spoke with a strong accent. Dave expressed his thanks for the fine care that had been given him.

"And you muss der mate meet," declared Captain Kennor, beaming. "He it vass who show der light in your face, und den der noose was over you drop."

So presently Dave followed these new friends to the deck, where he was introduced to the mate. He also, through Dr. Valpak, thanked the sailor who had cast the bucket-line overboard. The seaman who had dropped the noose around him spoke English fluently. Dave shook hands with both sailors. He then followed Captain Kennor and the mate to the bridge.

"You carry only freight?" Dave asked.

"Somedimes passengers," replied Captain Kennor. "Two we have dis time. An English lawyer und hiss young vife."

The pair just mentioned were seen walking on the spar deck forward. The man was well past middle age, of fine, rather sharp features and with thick gray hair. The woman did not appear to be above the age of twenty-five.

Captain Kennor escorted Dave down and introduced him to Mr. and Mrs. Caleb Launce.

"One doesn't often hear a story like that of your rescue," said Mr. Launce.

"It would have killed you, had you been an ordinary man," shivered Mrs. Launce.

"Thank you for the inference," Darrin laughed.

"But I have met several of your American naval officers," Mrs. Launce continued. "You are splendidly big, enduring men."

"Again I must thank you."

"A man accustomed to indoor life could not have lived half as long as you did before you were picked up," added the lawyer.

"Do you feel your full strength yet?" asked his wife.

"Not—quite, I'll admit," Dave answered.

"Then it will be well if you find a seat, inside, too, I should think," continued the Englishwoman. "Shall we all go inside? The air is cold out here."

Truth to tell, though he was not by any means in a fainting condition, Dave Darrin did feel that a seat inside, where it was warm, would be much to his liking.

So Captain Kennor led them to a small dining cabin, where the white cloths had been removed from the tables and homely red ones substituted.

"Dr. Valpak told me you expected to make port by noon," said Dave.

"Dot vass der hope, but last night's vinds held us back more dan ve knew," replied Captain Kennor. "Id vill be two dis afternoon before ve make—"

He was interrupted by a shattering jar that made the ship stagger. It was accompanied by a crashing explosion.

Uttering a cry of fright Mrs. Launce sprang to her feet.

"Can that be—" she began.

"Yes, madam, a torpedo," Dave replied, rising more slowly. "It was evidently a hard hit, but this twenty-eight-hundred-ton ship should remain afloat at least half an hour, unless another torpedo be launched. There is plenty of time. Will you permit me?"

There were life-belts at hand. Dave quickly and deftly fastened Mrs. Launce's life-belt about her, then performed a similar office for her husband. This done he went to his recent cabin, where he donned his own belt and stepped out on the deck, joining his fellow passengers.

Struck on the port side, just forward of her boilers, the "Rigsdak" was already listing considerably to that side.

"The captain and the first officer are below," hailed Dr. Valpak. "They will examine the ship's injuries and decide. It may not be necessary to abandon ship."

Mrs. Launce turned to Darrin, who had just turned back from the port rail. She looked at him so imperatively that he nodded and replied:

"We shall have to take to the boats. This ship is not going to float. Her pumps will not save her, for the hole in the side is beyond temporary repairs."

Within two or three minutes Captain Kennor and his mate appeared, confirming Dave's verdict.

Darrin had already looked out over the sea, but he had been unable to make out any sign of the presence of a submarine.

"Could it have been a mine?" demanded Mr. Launce.

"No, sir," Dave answered, promptly. "Had we struck a mine the explosion would have been much more violent."

"Then a torpedo provides sufficient experience of this sort of thing," cried Mrs. Launce, making a face.

"Der passengers vill my boat go in!" called Captain Kennor. "Dere vill time be."

Again Mrs. Launce glanced inquiringly at Darrin, who nodded his confirmation.

Three boats were cleared away, carrying most of the crew and all the officers except the master. The boats were safely launched, and fortunately the sea was not too rough for them.

Then Captain Kennor appeared, carrying a bag and his navigating instruments.

"Are your ship's papers and instruments intended for the Germans, sir?" Dave inquired, significantly.

"No; you be right," admitted Captain Kennor, opening his eyes wide, after a brief moment's thought.

Going to the rail he tossed bag and instruments over into the sea.

Then the last boat was lowered, the seamen who remained behind jumping as soon as their work was completed, and being picked up from the water.

"Ve shall but a few hours of rowing haff," declared Captain Kennor. "It vill not so hard be upon uss."

Dave was thinking of another prospect, but did not voice his thought. The men in the captain's boat gave way at the oars, Kennor steering. The other boats had already pulled well clear of the coming foundering, and now the captain's boat followed. The "Rigsdak" was likely to remain afloat for some minutes yet.

"I thought so," muttered Darrin, pointing to where a gray conning tower was emerging from the sea.

Captain Kennor gave an order in his native tongue, and the men in his boat ceased rowing.

"Dey vill uss hail, so ve need not be too far avay," he explained to his passengers.

After the conning tower the gray back of the sea pest rose into view. The manhole of the tower was opened and an officer appeared, followed to the deck by a few seamen, two of whom stationed themselves by a gun that popped up into view.

"Come alongside!" shouted the officer, in English, through a megaphone.

Again Captain Kennor's oarsmen gave way, their skipper heading for the submarine.

"That will do. Cease rowing," commanded the German officer. "What ship is that yonder?"

"Der Danish freighter, 'Rigsdak,'" replied Captain Kennor.

"And its master?"

"Dat iss me."

"Come aboard."

At the order Dave, who had quietly loosened his belt and holster containing his automatic revolver, quickly dropped them overboard on the side farthest from the German craft.

There was sufficient sea running to make the task of getting close alongside a difficult one. A German sailor reached out to catch Kennor's arm and aid him aboard the submarine.

"And your instruments and papers," ordered the German officer, sharply.

"I did not dem with me bring," replied Kennor.

"Perhaps that will be so much the worse for you," was the scowling reply. "We want the papers, and we have need, especially, of ship's instruments."

The German eyed Dave Darrin curiously. The American officer's uniform was concealed under his sou'-wester, rubber coat and boots, but after a moment's inspection, the German said curtly:

"You, too, will come aboard."

As refusal would have been absurd under the circumstances Darrin promptly obeyed. Instantly the German officer snatched a fold of Darrin's rubber coat, pulling it aside and thus revealing a glimpse of the uniform beneath.

"Take off that rubber coat!" the Hun ordered, brusquely.

Flushing slightly, Dave obeyed, his uniform now being fully revealed.

"Ha!" snarled the Hun. "I suspected something of the sort. You two will go down through the manhole. And this man and woman are passengers? They will come aboard."

Captain Kennor led the way below, Mr. and Mrs. Launce following. Dave, as he reached the manhole, turned to see the "Rigsdak" vanish beneath the waters.

Then Dave Darrin stepped inside the conning tower and began to descend the ladder—a German prisoner at last!

IX. Threats to a Prisoner

As for the seamen in the boat, the officer, after a scowling stare in their direction, ordered them also on board, where he had them lined up forward.

"Take off those life-belts," he ordered, still in English, and a seaman who understood interpreted to his fellow-Danes.

Off came the life-belts, which were dropped to the deck. German sailors then kicked them all overboard.

Now the submarine began to move slowly. A shot was fired from the forward gun into the lifeboat, wrecking and sinking her. This done, the German seamen followed their officer in through the manhole, which was closed.

For at least two miles the submarine moved along on the surface, then, slowly, began to submerge. One of the Danish sailors on deck set up a howl of fright when he found his shoes six inches under water. The cry was taken up by the other sailors with him.

The water rose to their knees—higher. The conning tower settled down into the sea, and the wretched sailors of the captain's boat were left floundering in the water, without life-belts or anything buoyant to keep them afloat.

The last vestige of the submarine vanished, leaving more than a dozen despairing men to flounder and to die, for the "Rigsdak's" other boats were now too far distant to see what had happened.

Going below, Dave and his friends from the "Rigsdak" were conducted into a tiny wardroom behind the mess table at which sat a frowning, leering German ober-lieutenant.

"A ship's master who did not like us well enough to bring his papers and his instruments," barked this commanding officer of the sea-hornet. "An Englishman and his young wife, eh? But we have here—?"

"An American naval officer," replied the younger German officer.

For some reason the ober-lieutenant's manner changed. He looked Dave over curiously, but without the same ferocity.

"Be good enough to be seated," he said, with a wave of the hand toward a chair. "Let these swine stand!"

But Dave chose to remain on his feet. Again the ober-lieutenant turned to him, though with comparative courtesy.

"I offered you a seat, sir. I trust you will avail yourself of the invitation."

"I cannot seat myself, sir," Darrin answered, stiffly, "while a lady is forced to stand."

"Then the woman will have a seat too," replied the ober-lieutenant, with a contemptuous glance in Mrs. Launce's direction. But that young Englishwoman met his look of contempt with a glance that beat the German at his own game, and remained on her feet.

"Oh, very well," said the German commander, carelessly. "Now, I will enter in my log the name and other particulars concerning the master of the 'Rigsdak.'"

Captain Kennor accordingly supplied the particulars, which were written down.

"The English cattle next!" ordered the ober-lieutenant, gruffly.

Mr. Launce therefore stated the names, ages and residence of himself and wife.

"Your reason for travelling?" rasped the German commander, looking up from his record.

"Health," replied the Englishman, stiffly.

"Whose?"—sneeringly.

"Mine."

"You do not look ill."

"That cannot be helped," replied Mr. Launce, as stiffly as ever.

"You must have passports, since you are travelling," suggested the ober-lieutenant.

"Yes; we have," admitted Mr. Launce.

"Turn them over to me."

Receiving the documents in question, the German commander looked them over carefully. Without comment, he handed them to a younger officer, who left the room with them, but soon returned.

"Take these people away," ordered the ober-lieutenant. "And see that you obey all orders without question," he added, to Kennor and the English couple.

When they had been left alone the ober-lieutenant rose to his feet, holding out his hand to Darrin though a bit stiffly.

"We are brothers in arms, it seems, though just now we are enemies," said the German.

"We are enemies, yes," Dave admitted, ignoring the outstretched hand. At this the German flushed, allowing his proffered hand to fall.

"You shall have all permissible courtesy while you are my prisoner, and I trust you will show the same," said the ober-lieutenant.

"I bespeak no courtesy, sir," Dave replied coolly, though without direct affront. "I quite understand that I am a prisoner of war, and, as I cannot help the fact, I will not resent it. You are going to confine me, I take it?"

"No," said the ober-lieutenant, again seating himself and picking up his pen. "You will be given quarters, and allowed some freedom as long as you do not forfeit it. You may even eat at table with us."

"Thank you," said Darrin, bowing stiffly.

"I have not yet entered your name. Be good enough to supply me with it."

"David Darrin."

"Rank?"

"Lieutenant commander."

"Yankee Navy?"

"United States Navy, sir."

"Present detail?"

"Commanding officer of a torpedo boat destroyer."

"Her name?" demanded the ober-lieutenant, writing.

"I decline to state."

"Name of the destroyer?" insisted the German.

"You heard my answer to that," Darrin returned, his lips tightening. "I refuse to reveal the name of the destroyer."

"Her present station?"

"I decline to answer."

"Your reason for being away from your craft and being aboard the 'Rigsdak'?" queried the German, glancing up.

"I was washed overboard in a gale, and rescued by the crew of the 'Rigsdak'," Dave answered, truthfully, without going into details.

"Were you washed overboard from the craft of which you are commanding officer?" pressed the German.

"Again I must decline to answer."

"Oh, very good," said the ober-lieutenant, carelessly. "I shall find that out presently."

Then, as he scanned the information he had written down, the German asked:

"Darrin? Darrin? Where have I heard that name before?"

Picking up another book from the table, the ober-lieutenant turned rapidly through some indexed pages. Suddenly a gleam came into his eyes.

"Ah, here I have it. Darrin, David. Responsible for the capture and recognition of Ober-Lieutenant von Bechtold. Witness against von Bechtold, who was executed in England as a spy. Ha! So you are the Darrin, eh?"

"I may be," half-assented Dave, feeling the other's burning gaze.

"Then I am glad to have you here, Lieutenant-Commander Darrin!" cried the German officer, "but I am afraid things will go badly indeed with you when you arrive in Germany!"

X. Like the French and English

"Indeed?" asked Dave, raising his eyebrows slightly.

"You cannot expect that the people of the Fatherland will feel any great kindness toward you," pursued the ober-lieutenant.

"Why should they dislike me?"

"Because you brought about the death of von Bechtold, and he was an officer most valuable to our government."

"If you caught an American spy in Germany would you arrest him?"

"Assuredly," admitted the German officer.

"And do your best to prove your charge against him and have him executed."

"Again, assuredly."

"That was what I did, in the case of von Bechtold."

"Bah, you are like the French and English!" snapped the ober-lieutenant. "You can never get it through your heads that a German is more important than one of your kinds of people."

"No," Dave agreed, "I am afraid that we cannot appreciate that fact, or even admit it to be a fact."

"And now, before you leave me," broke in the German officer, quickly, "tell me the name of your destroyer and the station on which you last served."

Dave smiled, but did not answer in words. The ober-lieutenant regarded him frowningly.

"Oh, very good," said the German, at last. "There are those in Germany who know how and possess the means to make you talk. Your record shall be completed there. And now—!"

Going to the wardroom door the ober-lieutenant called:

"Lieutenant von Schellen!"

The same younger officer came to the door.

"Be good enough to show Lieutenant Commander Darrin to his quarters and extend to him any courtesies that you properly may. It is not fitting that a man of his rank should have to receive orders from a seaman."

"This way," directed von Schellen, briefly. He led the way down the narrow passage to a curtained doorway.

"In here you will find your home until we reach Germany," said von Schellen. "If you wish exercise you may leave your sleeping cabin and walk back and forth in this passage-way. If the ober-lieutenant should decide to be gracious enough to invite you to the wardroom, then you will also have the freedom of that room—at meal hours only. You will not go to any other part of this craft."

With a curt nod the young lieutenant left Dave. Perhaps von Schellen had done his best to be courteous.

Pulling back the curtain Dave looked in. It was a stuffy little place, just long enough to hold two berths, one above the other, against the outer shell of the submarine. In the upper berth Captain Kennor lay at full length, a hand over his eyes.

"We are cabin-mates, then?" Dave asked, gently.

"Yes, so I been told," the Dane answered gloomily.

"And you in the upper berth? Why did you not take the lower one? It is more comfortable."

"I vould no so presume!" protested the Dane. "Not wid a man of your rank."

"I haven't rank enough in our naval service to feel conceited about it," Darry smiled, "and you are considerably older than I. Any difference there may be in comfort is your due. Will you kindly exchange?"

Not without some difficulty did Dave succeed in inducing Captain Kennor to change to the lower, broader berth of the two. Dave, after removing his boots and some of his clothing, climbed to the upper berth, spreading a blanket over himself and lying down, for he felt that rest was absolutely needed.

At the noon-meal hour the ober-lieutenant sent an orderly to invite Darrin to the table, though the same invitation was not to be extended to Captain Kennor, who would be expected to eat with the German petty officers. But, as Dave and Captain Kennor were asleep at the time, the orderly departed without waking them.

It was past the middle of the afternoon when Dave Darrin at last awoke sufficiently to decide upon rising. Getting to the floor, and noting that Captain Kennor was still asleep, Dave dressed almost by stealth.

While he was still so engaged there came a slight knock at the door. A German petty officer looked in.

"The ober-lieutenant sends his compliments," announced the fellow, in English. "He will be pleased to have you join him. I will lead the way."

Dave followed, down the passage and out into the main cabin. There, at a table under the conning tower, sat the ober-lieutenant and the same younger officer.

"We will raise the periscope and show you what we are about to do," said the ober-lieutenant, with a half-malicious smile.

Von Schellen, his hand on the wheel of the periscope mechanism, awaited a nod from his chief. Receiving it, the younger officer turned the wheel, sending the periscope up a foot above water.

On the white surface of the shaded table beneath Dave saw the image of a vessel.

"The fellow yonder has not yet sighted us," said the ober-lieutenant, grimly. "We are about to send him a torpedo. Yonder craft is to be our game—Yankee steel and Yankee meat!"

As for Dave, as he stared in horror at the image on the table he recognized in the ship mirrored there Dan Dalzell's own command, the "Reed."

Forcing himself to speak calmly, and to act a part Dave begged:

"One moment longer, please! Let me see whether I can recognize the doomed craft."

"Doomed, indeed," chuckled the ober-lieutenant. "We are in position and I am about to fire. Be ready to drop the 'scope, von Schellen!"

But Dave Darrin, knocking von Schellen's hand away, seized the lever, forcing the periscope to rise to its full height above the conning tower. Nor did he stop there. With the mightiest twist and wrench of which he was capable he jammed the lever so that it could not be promptly operated to lower the periscope.

"Stop!" thundered von Schellen, leaping to his feet, his face purple with rage.

"I've stopped," assented Darry, smilingly, as he stepped back.

"Do you realize what you have done, scoundrelly Yankee?" hissed the ober-lieutenant, also rising and drawing his revolver.

"Of course I do," Dave smilingly assented.

"You have jammed the periscope. But at least we can dive when we need, for—there!"

With deft manipulation of a small device the German commander added:

"I have closed the valves of the 'scope, which will now admit no water if we dive. You did not succeed, Herr Darrin. But you will draw upon us the Yankee fire if yonder commander is now able to sight our scope."

As if to verify the statement a muffled sound came to them through the water. Glancing down swiftly at the table von Schellen saw that reflected which caused him to exclaim:

"The Yankee destroyer has opened upon us with her forward port gun. And there goes the starboard gun!"

Von Schellen, at a nod from his chief, signalled the orders for diving. The ober-lieutenant saw the "Reed," as pictured on the white table, come steaming toward the submarine at full speed.

"You idiot!" raged the German commander. "Your treachery has betrayed us, and now the Yankee will do his best to sink us and drown all on board here."

"That's what I'm praying right now he'll do!" cried Dave Darrin, his face radiant with the glory of the thought.

XI. A Victim of Courtesy

"And what about the woman we have on board?" demanded the ober-lieutenant, hurriedly. "Would you destroy her, too—cause her, if you could, to die the death of drowning helplessly?"

"I—I had forgotten her," Dave confessed.

But from the passageway came a prompt response.

"Never mind me," called Mrs. Launce. "I have heard, and I, also, pray to see this pirate craft destroyed before it can accomplish any more wickedness and destruction. My own death does not matter!"

"Silence, woman!" cried the ober-lieutenant, glaring at Mrs. Launce.

"Mrs. Launce has spoken, and has no more to say," broke in the unruffled voice of Caleb Launce.

"Is that the way you address women when they are helpless?" Dave demanded, tauntingly.

"When they take part in conversations without being asked," the German answered, curtly.

"I have heard it was a way with the naval men of your country," Dave drove back, tauntingly.

Von Schellen reported:

"We are now sixty feet below the surface, and headed west by southwest. Any further orders?"

"None," replied the commander. "Keep to the course until I direct it to be changed."

With a stiff salute von Schellen turned and vanished.

"Your Yankee friend shall not catch us this time," jeered the ober-lieutenant. "Listen! Can you hear his propellers? We are going directly away from him."

"He will catch you, in the end," Darrin retorted, "or some other comrade will. I know how many of your craft our Navy has put out of commission, and I know how many our Allies have destroyed."

"But you do not know how many submarines we have left, nor how fast we are building them," mocked the German commander.

"Do not be too sure of that," Dave retorted. "It may be that our information is more exact than you suspect."

"Have you anything definite to say on that subject?" demanded the ober-lieutenant, regarding his prisoner attentively.

"Naturally not."

"Then, as I shall be busy, will you be good enough to return to the bounds set for you?"

Dave bowed, turned and re-entered the passage-way. The German naval officer's manner toward him had not been insulting. There was an evident effort to treat Darrin with the outward show of respect that should be accorded to a prisoner of his rank. Yet Dave knew that his enemy hated him.

Mr. and Mrs. Launce were in the passage-way, and Captain Kennor could be heard stirring in his cabin.

"Mr. Darrin, we are now at good depth under water?" inquired Mr. Launce.

"Yes, sir; I believe so. We are not to be caught and destroyed just yet."

"That I am sorry to hear," replied the lawyer, gravely.

"And, I, too, am sorry," spoke up Mrs. Launce. "Life has been sweet to me, but I would much rather be dead than a captive in Germany. I condole with you, Mr. Darrin, that it was not possible for you to bring about the destruction of this wretched craft."

"It will, before long, go the way of the other German submarines," Dave assured her, hoping that there were enemy eavesdroppers who would overhear and understand.

At best exercise in this narrow short passage was a farce, though it was often more agreeable to be out here than sitting in the cramped space of one of the tiny sleeping cabins. The four prisoners rested, or moved listlessly about, until the evening meal was ready. Then Captain Kennor was summoned to eat with the petty officers, while Dave and his English companions received word to join the craft's officers in the tiny wardroom.

Mr. Launce glanced at Dave with a questioning look.

"Really, Mr. Darrin, I would as soon starve as eat with those German officer fellows, and my wife feels as I do about it."

"And my idea is the same," Dave answered.

So Mr. Launce turned to the German mess servant, delivering in German a message to the effect that the three prisoners did not care to join the officers at mess.

Thereupon von Schellen came out.

"What is the matter?" he asked.

"We don't care to eat with you, sir," Mr. Launce replied, bluntly.

"Oh, very well," replied the junior officer, carelessly. "You three, then, may eat at second table after we are pleased to be through."

Clicking his heels and wheeling, the junior officer went back to the wardroom. The three prisoners waited more than an hour before the same mess attendant came and beckoned them to enter.

They were alone, now, save for the presence of the ober-lieutenant, who was seated at one end of the table writing. He did not look up as they entered and seated themselves.

The meal set out was a coarse one, in quality of food, but there was plenty of it. The three prisoners ate slowly, almost in silence, nor did they address their host.

Before the meal was over the German commander left the room without word or sign to his guests.

"Why, the boat has stopped!" exclaimed Mrs. Launce, in a low voice, some three minutes later. "Are we resting on the bottom?"

"I think I shall soon be able to answer you," Darrin replied.

Soon machinery began to rumble.

"We are on the surface," said Dave, laying down knife and fork. "We are recharging batteries."

Mrs. Launce leaned forward to whisper:

"Then surely there is some chance that one of our own craft will hear the racket. We may be fired upon and sunk, do you not think?"

"You are eager for death?" Dave asked, studying her face.

"Yes. I prefer death to being taken to Germany."

"And I, too," Dave nodded.

"Have they anything against you there?" Mrs. Launce whispered, after glancing about her.

"Only, I believe, that I brought about the capture and execution of one of their most valuable spies."

"That would be enough," whispered Mr. Launce. "For that the Germans would not openly try and execute you, but they will find other ways to bring about your death."

Instantly it occurred to Darrin that, evidently, some one in official Germany knew of something to bring against Mrs. Launce, for her question to Darrin had indicated as much.

As they sat there at the table the young American officer noted that the submarine rolled hardly at all. It was plain that the recent gale had subsided, for the slight rocking of the boat indicated only a gentle swell on the surface of the sea.

In the doorway appeared Lieutenant von Schellen. In his right hand, steadied by his left, was what looked like an album. Glancing up from a page the junior officer remarked, with quick speech and decided emphasis:

"You are the Countess of Denby."

By a great effort the Englishwoman turned slowly, glancing at the German.

"Ah!" she exclaimed. "You have another woman prisoner? You are bringing her here. I am sorry that she is in your hands."

"You are the Countess of Denby!" von Schellen charged again, once more levelling his accusing finger at her. "And you, sir," shifting the direction of his finger to point at the supposed Mr. Launce, "are the Earl of Denby!"

"I have risen in the world since I went to sea!" jested the Englishman.

"We know who you are, now," von Schellen continued, with brutal bluntness, "and we know as much more about you as we need. We know of the Admiralty office that you visited, and we know the information that you two were expected to gather along the Kiel Canal when you should have entered Germany! Oh, you will soon understand that we have most excellent information from England! You journeyed to Denmark on a poor old tramp steamer, under assumed names and with fraudulent passports furnished by your government. From Denmark you were to work your way to Holland, and thence into Germany, which country you would enter with still other passports furnished you in Holland. We know all about the noble pair of Denby! Of course you will deny this, but save your denials for use before a German court!"

Having said which von Schellen turned and left them. The Englishman and woman gave each other a swift, horrified glance, then lowered their eyes. As they looked up again Dave sent them a swift glance of sympathy, but there was a look of defiant pride on the Englishwoman's face.

The same thought was in the minds of all three. Von Schellen or some other German had been eavesdropping near enough to hear the whispered conversation that had taken place.

That was a fair ruse for use in war-time. Darrin, as he looked at the English pair, felt sure that they really were the Earl and Countess of Denby.

From the cabin under the conning tower came a chorus of hoarse laughter. The Englishwoman's swift look said plainly:

"They are laughing over the discovery that they have made."

After that, gloom fell upon the trio. Darrin had never heard, before, of the Earl of Denby. Later he learned that the Earl had led a recluse's life among books until the war began. About that time he had married a young noblewoman, and the pair had gone promptly into effective war work, though not in ways that caused their portraits to be published in the illustrated weeklies.

Von Schellen re-appeared five minutes later, casting first a look of triumph at the English couple, next turning to Dave.

"The American officer may take the air briefly on deck if he so desires," said the German. "It is by gracious permission of the commanding officer."

Darrin's first impulse was to decline, unless his companions were included. He changed his mind, however, for he had an intense desire to find out, if possible, in what waters the craft now was. So he rose, bowing to his table companions, and followed von Schellen to the conning tower ladder. Here he passed Herr Ober-Lieutenant and bowed stiffly.

"I am trusting you on deck," said the latter, with a frown. "It is a courtesy. Do not abuse it by any untoward conduct."

Then Dave followed his conductor up into the tower, von Schellen all the while keeping sharp lookout to see that Darrin did not attempt to do any damage to the levers on the indicator board.

Von Schellen, preceding him to the deck, turned to say, as Darrin reached the platform:

"Observe. Your desperate trick did not harm us for long. You will note that the periscope is again lowered. In fact, a new one has been put in its place. We have tested the new periscope and its bearings, and have found that they work perfectly. Your treachery, with which you repaid the commanding officer's courtesy, did not avail you much."

Darrin did not reply. Instead, he turned to survey the night on all sides. Overhead were heavy clouds, obscuring the light of the moon, which, in its present phase, would have furnished considerable light over the waters. There was a fine mist in the air, but the sixth sense of the sailor warned Dave not to expect rain tonight.

Despite the cloudiness, however, one could see for a considerable distance over the slightly rolling sea. There was no other craft in sight.

"You do not see much hope," mocked von Schellen. "We have chosen a quiet part of the sea, as you will notice."

"You usually try to do that, don't you?" Dave asked, in a tone of ordinary curiosity.

"You must know," laughed the junior officer. "You have spent months pursuing our submarines."

"And have had some success in catching them," Dave answered.

Von Schellen's laugh was bitter as he rejoined:

"Ah! You are a good boaster! But do not go too far, Herr Darrin! Do not make me wish to strike you!"

"I wouldn't care how soon you struck me," Darrin smiled, "provided I could be assured of a fair field and no favor in defending myself. But I think we are going too far in our talk, are we not, when one considers the consideration that a captor must show to a prisoner of war. As a gentleman you cannot strike me; nor, as a gentleman, can I seek to provoke you to do so. The situation is one calling for tact, Herr Lieutenant."

"And I cannot forget that you are taking occasion to remind me of the fact," retorted von Schellen, a dark look coming into his face.

"Then may I, as the prisoner of war, ask that the subject be changed?" Dave Darrin suggested.

"By all means," von Schellen returned, quickly, though he was able to perceive that the American had again succeeded in putting him in the wrong.

Just a moment later a petty officer appeared on deck. Taking two or three steps toward the junior officer he halted, saluted, and then remained standing at attention, as though waiting.

Von Schellen stepped over to the man, and a conversation followed in low tones, but did not last long.

"If you care to remain on deck and watch," said the junior lieutenant, "you will see something that may interest you."

XII. German Brutality at its Worst

Just behind the conning tower a jointed steel mast was raised and stepped by three seamen who came at the petty officer's order.

Farther astern a narrow, ledge-like trapdoor of steel was raised, and from this was taken and stepped another steel jointed mast. The seamen now worked quickly in rigging aerial wires in place. In a very short time the work was completed, and the petty officer saluted von Schellen.

"You cannot fail to understand what we are doing," hinted the young German officer.

"You are about to send or receive radio messages, I take it," Dave replied.

"You have been told, of course, that we always report our whereabouts after dark?"

"Yes, it is common knowledge with the Allies," Dave admitted. "And also that you receive instructions from the home offices of your Admiralty."

There was a crackling sound on the aerials, followed by others, some short, some long.

"A wonderful invention, is it not?" asked von Schellen, with satisfaction.

"Yes, and first developed outside of Germany," Dave bantered, good-humoredly.

"True enough, but we have known how to take the radio and adapt it to all our needs," retorted von Schellen.

"Your operator is now reporting your whereabouts, of course."

"That would seem likely, wouldn't it?" the other demanded.

"And then you will receive information."

"Yes; and sometimes we have even messages for our men from their homes," laughed von Schellen. "More! I have even had tender messages from my sweetheart! And have answered them in kind!"

For a moment Dave stared in astonishment. He knew von Schellen for a truly heartless brute. The idea that any woman could love this fellow came almost as a shock. And that Schellen could have any tender feelings! Wonders would never cease.

"Of what are you thinking, if I may ask?" the German went on.

"After information coming to you," Darrin hinted, "it almost goes without saying that you receive your orders."

"Surely we receive them," nodded the German, "if we happen to need any. But in our line of professional work, after we have received information we do not often need orders. We know how to use our information."

"Of course," Dave went on, "any other radio operator who is within hearing distance can pick up your messages, so you do not send them in open German but use a code, or rather, a series of codes."

"If your radio men have ever picked up any of our messages," retorted the young German, "you must know that you were not able to decipher their meaning."

"We could not always decipher them," Darrin admitted.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Why, it is possible, of course, that sometimes we and our Allies have some keys to the German use of code messages."

"You assert that?" questioned von Schellen, rather eagerly.

"No, and I do not deny it, either," Dave smiled.

"You are interesting, but discreet," complained the German, banteringly.

"And I may say as much of you," Dave continued. "Naturally, you know some things that you would not tell me, and I know a few things that I would not dream of telling you."

"And, instead, you hint at things that are not so, and perhaps I do about the same thing," returned von Schellen.

After that silence fell for some minutes. Dave walked back and forth, the junior officer watching him keenly.

Overhead the crackling at the aerials continued, with occasional intervals of silence when the operator below was busy receiving messages.

Again a petty officer approached von Schellen, saluting and reporting in an undertone.

"It is time for you to go below," announced von Schellen, turning to Dave.

"I appreciate very much this opportunity to take the fresh air," Dave said, politely, as he turned toward the conning tower.

"Oh, I guess you're welcome," said the lieutenant, shortly, and with a meaning smile, "though sometimes there is such a thing as too much outdoor life."

To Darrin's mild astonishment, as he stepped below, a folding table had been set up, and around this were seated the ober-lieutenant and two other officers, one of them an engineer. Von Schellen, at a nod from his chief, made the fourth at the table.

Into this cabin were brought the English couple and the Danish master. Several sailors stood about. The occasion began to take on a formal look, which was heightened when the ober-lieutenant laid on the table a small sheaf of papers.

"First of all, you, Herr Darrin," began the ober-lieutenant. "There can be no doubt that you are Darrin?"

Dave thrust a hand in under his sheepskin, bringing to light a card-case. From it he withdrew a pasteboard which he laid on the table.

"That is my card," he said.

The ober-lieutenant studied it deliberately, then passed it to another officer as he continued:

"And you do not deny that it was you who captured Ober-Lieutenant von Bechtold of the Imperial German Navy. You were the principal witness against him when he was tried in Britain for being a spy?"

"I do not deny it, sir."

"That is all. You may step back."

As Darrin drew back he could not escape the feeling that two of the seamen near him regarded him as being their especial prisoner.

"And now, the Earl and Countess of Denby," called the ober-lieutenant.

The English couple remained as motionless and appeared as unconcerned as though they had not heard.

"You two, I mean," insisted the ober-lieutenant, turning to them.

"Oh," said the man, and stepped forward, his wife following him.

The ober-lieutenant eyed the pair impressively before he asked them:

"You do not deny that you are the Earl and Countess of Denby?"

"No," replied the man.

"Ah! Then you admit it?"

"No," he said, promptly.

"But either you must be, or you cannot be, the noble couple whom I have named. Which is it?"

"That is for you to determine," replied the man.

"But what do you say yourselves?"

"Nothing."

"But you must answer my question!" the commanding officer insisted angrily.

"You fatigue me," declared the man.

"You have not answered my question, and won't?"

"We have nothing to say."

Frowning, the ober-lieutenant whispered to a petty officer, who had placed on the table the same album that von Schellen had brought to the wardroom door. The commanding officer opened the album, pointing to two photographs that adorned a page.

"These are your photographs, are they not?" he demanded, glancing up at the pair. But no reply came from them.

"At least," said the ober-lieutenant, stiffly, "you have been given abundant opportunity to deny, and have declined to do so. Our imperial government has had sufficient information that you two have recently entered the British secret service. It is even known to the imperial government that you two recently undertook to penetrate into Germany, under even another assumed name than Launce, and that you planned to spy upon what was to be learned along the Kiel Canal. You even had some of your arrangements made for performing that seemingly very difficult piece of spy work. You have been charged, and you refuse to deny. It is the same as a confession on your parts. The Earl and Countess of Denby will stand aside."

Two sailors, at a sign from the ober-lieutenant, drew the English pair back.

"Martin Kennor, once master of the Danish freight steamer 'Rigsdak!'" called the commander.

Promptly the Danish skipper stood forward.

"There can be no doubt at all that you answer the description just given?" demanded the ober-lieutenant.

"None vatever," agreed Kennor.

"The only fault to be found with you," continued the ober-lieutenant, "is that you had the misfortune to be found in such company, and that later on your tongue might prove too long and ready. That is all!"

Von Schellen, again on his feet, signalled to some of the seamen, then said:

"The prisoners will follow me."

To the amazement of all he led the way to the conning tower. After him the sailors herded the four prisoners of war. They ascended the ladder, the Englishwoman being the last of the four. Her husband and Captain Kennor assisted her as she stepped through the manhole to the deck outside.

"But this is unkind," she declared, with a shiver. "My husband and I have not our outer wraps, and the night is chilly."

"I will mention the matter," replied von Schellen, stiffly.

The wireless masts and aerials had disappeared. As the four passengers stood on the deck and wondered, the seamen entered the submarine through the manhole in the wake of von Schellen. When the last of them had gone into the conning tower the junior lieutenant re-appeared at the manhole to call:

"A pleasant evening for four!"

Then the manhole cover was closed and there came to those on deck a muffled sound connected with fastening it on the inside.

"What does this new insolence mean?" cried the Englishwoman.

"If you do not guess, you must soon know," replied her husband, throwing an arm about her. It was then that Mrs. Launce understood. She turned pale, but did not cry out.

Perhaps a full minute passed before the submarine began to move forward. Dave Darrin, familiar with the sounds from below, knew that the rumble of machinery coming to his ears was caused, not by the engines used in surface running, but by the electric motors employed when running under water.

"The brutes are going to drown us, as they did the hapless sailors they took from our boat!" gasped the Englishwoman.

"Yes, my dear," replied her husband, "and you have said that you would prefer drowning to being a prisoner in Germany."

"I still say it," she answered quietly.

"We are to have our wish," said her husband.

Dave Darrin remained immobile; Captain Kennor shrugged his shoulders without speaking.

The prow of the craft dipped into the water, which soon came creeping up around their ankles. The forward deck was now out of sight, the water in which they stood rising toward their knees.

XIII. Facing the Planned Death

Turning to Darrin the Englishman held out his hand.

"Good-bye" he said, simply. "You have been a good comrade. I trust you have not been disappointed in us, either."

"Let's not say good-bye yet," urged Dave cheerfully. "Surely we are not going to give up and drown, merely because a lot of German rascals so will it."

"But we cannot last long in the water," protested the Englishman, mildly.

"At least, sir," Dave suggested, "we shall not die until we have to. You swim?"

"Once I did."

"Then you can swim now. The sea is nearly smooth. Let us try to keep together. And you, Captain Kennor? You swim?"

"Yes."

"Good. We'll keep together as long as we can."

At this moment the Englishwoman, the shortest of the quartette, gave a little cry as she found her footing giving way beneath her.

"All together!" cried Darrin, with a cheeriness he did not feel, as he gripped the woman's left arm.

Another drop of the deck sent them all adrift. The Englishman supported his wife on her right. Captain Kennor, nearly silent, but undaunted, swam slightly behind the others that he might offer aid wherever needed.

Strangely enough, though the swimmers spoke to each other occasionally, none now referred to the dastardly conduct of the enemy in setting them thus adrift to drown.

"You are cold, my dear, I know," said the Englishman to his wife. "Are you suffering otherwise?"

"No; but though I would not willingly drown myself, I shall not be sorry when we give up and go down."

"Had I felt that way the last time I found myself in the water," spoke up Dave, "I would not be here now."

"You had on a life belt. Now none of us has," answered the Englishwoman, her teeth chattering. "We cannot last long."

"After my last experience, madam," Dave assured her, "I shall never dare say that as long as life lasts."

"Why not face facts calmly?" she asked. "Probably I shall last a quarter of an hour before I die of cold. I may survive for twenty minutes or a little longer. You are strong, and may keep up for an hour or more. What can possibly come to our aid in that short time?"

"Who can say?" was Dave's counter-question.

For some time, they swam in silence. They did not attempt to make progress. Motion enough to keep afloat was all that was called for.

All at once Dave wondered whether his eyes were playing him tricks, or whether he really saw the top of a conning tower approaching him. It was not likely that the enemy would remain about, and come back to see how it fared with the victims of their cruelty.

Then the something in the water took on another vague shape. Darrin shook his head in an effort to get the water out of his eyes. He peered again. The shape, whatever it was, and if it really existed, was beginning to get on his nerves. It seemed to come nearer.

"Captain Kennor!" called Darrin, sharply.

"Aye!" responded the Dane.

"Are you still swimming strongly?"

"Aye!"

"Then will you swim ahead and see what it is that my eyes show me on the water?"

"Oh, aye!"

With lusty strokes the Dane swam around him, and then ahead.

"A little more to the left!" called Dave.

Then Captain Kennor believed that he saw it, too, and headed straight for the object. Getting nearer he sent back a real cheer.

"What is it?" Darrin called.

"A spar!"

"Any size?"

"Large enough us to hold all up! Swim dis vay! Alone, can I hardly push it to you."

Neither Dave nor the Englishman needed urging. They swam, still bearing the woman between them. The sight of the Dane ahead of them holding to the spar with one arm, and holding up the other hand, heartened them wonderfully.

Soon all three had gained the spar, and Captain Kennor, drawing a cord from his pocket, soon succeeded in lashing the Englishwoman so securely to the spar that she could not slip away and perish.

"Now, you will remember what I said about not giving up," Dave reminded his companions.

"Why, yes, I am buoyed up, and perhaps you men can manage to hold on, also," admitted the woman. "Yet we must freeze to death."

"We will still dare to hope," Darrin replied, calmly.

"You are a splendid inspiration, Mr. Darrin!" declared the Englishman, heartily. "I wish I could believe that you are a true prophet, as well."

"Oh, well," spoke Dave, with a lightness that was deceptive, "I've really been in several worse scrapes than the present one."

But to himself he added:

"May I be forgiven for uttering what seems to me to be a possibly helpful lie!"

Though they were now safely afloat for some time to come, their situation rapidly became worse, owing to the increasing cold. Especially was this noticeable in the case of the Englishwoman.

From time to time her eyes closed. When spoken to she had to exert considerable effort to shake off her languor before she could reply. She became still more drowsy; evidently she was on the verge of freezing to death. From speaking kindly her husband dropped into sharp tones for the sole purpose of keeping her awake. Presently he was forced to resort to light blows in order to bully her into wakefulness. Once she fell soundly asleep she would not again awake.

As for Captain Kennor, he held on almost dumbly. He seldom spoke, his eyes mournfully regarding the woman whose battle for life was slowly being lost.

"This is awful!" cried the Englishman, hoarsely, after another effort to rouse his wife from slumber.

"For all of us," Darrin admitted, "though there is still hope."

"Where?" inquired Captain Kennor.

"I do not know," Dave confessed. "Yes, I do, too, though! Look yonder! No, in that direction!"

At first the others could not make it out. Captain Kennor was the first to see what Dave had found. It was only a low, dark cloud on the horizon, and it looked as though smaller clouds detached themselves and sailed away on the low-hanging sky.

"I see it, too!" cried the Englishman, at last. "But what is it?"

"A ship," Dave answered. "To be more exact, it looks like a destroyer, and it looks too as though it might pass within a quarter of a mile of us."

"Look, my dear—look!" the Englishman urged his wife, shaking her in his eagerness to have her realize the thread of hope that dangled before their eyes. "A ship coming! We are to be saved."

Her eyes opened at last; the woman struggled bravely to show interest in the sight that half-cheered the others, but she could not. She was too far gone, and her eyes closed again.

"Keep your wife awake, sir, if you have to begin to pull her hair from her head!!" It was a command. "See how near that craft is getting. Jove, sir! I believe it is one of our own Yankee ships!"

"But they will not come close enough to see us," objected Captain Kennor, with the practiced eyes of the veteran seaman. "They are not using their searchlight, and we have no way of signalling to them."

Without speaking Darrin tried a desperate hope. In one of his hands something gleamed out into the night.

"What is it?" demanded the Dane. "Himmel! Der flashlight! Vere or ven did you by dat come?"

"I found it in the locker of our sleeping cabin, and hid it in my clothes," Dave answered, as he again tested the light. "I did not want to speak of it unless there should come some hope to us. This light was evidently left by some German who had used that cabin. It's waterproof, too. When I found it I had a hope that it might come in handy before I got through with this adventure. And now!"

Waiting only a minute or two longer, Dave, clinging to the spar with one arm, held the other hand as high aloft as he could.

"Help!" he signalled by flashes in the Morse code. "Help!"

"It is such a tiny glow, to carry so far!" sighed the Englishman.

"Maybe id vill seen be," said Captain Kennor.

Dave continued to signal until, to his great joy, there came an answering signal from a blinker light which asked:

"Who are you?"

"Four castaways, clinging to a spar. Help before we freeze!" Dave flashed back, desperately.

"If only the commander of that boat does not suspect us of being a German submarine springing a trap!" cried the Englishwoman.

A searchlight flashed up, then its broad beam stretched across the waters as the operator tried to pick up the floating ones.

Dave threw the flash into a continuous light while the searchlight beam continued groping. Then, in a blessed instant, the beam struck almost blindingly across the spar and the four human beings held up by it.

"Now, they've spotted us," Dave cried, exultingly. "They won't run away and leave us without a look-in."

Holding the spar with the searchlight beam, the destroyer changed its course, bearing down rapidly upon them. Then it stopped and a motor launch was lowered from davits.

With a burst of speed the launch came alongside the spar. Busy hands were outstretched. The Englishwoman was the first to be taken aboard, after a few quick slashes had freed her from the binding cord.

"Why, here's Lieutenant Commander Darrin!"

"Help!"

exclaimed a voice. Dave, almost too weak to speak, was hustled into the boat, then the other two men were taken over.

Blankets were wrapped about the rescued ones, and the launch dashed back to her ship.

"A woman, Lieutenant Commander Darrin and two other men!" the officer in charge of the launch hailed the destroyer.

"Darrin!" cried a voice. There was even greater bustle at the top of the gangway that had been lowered as the launch ran alongside. As swiftly as possible the four rescued ones were rushed up the side.

"Old Darry himself, eh?" cried a joyous voice, as Danny Grin hurried up. "Has the woman any relative in the party?"

"Yes; her husband," Dave answered weakly, then collapsed.

"Take the woman and her husband to my quarters," Dalzell directed. "Have a cot put in and lashed for the husband, and put the woman in the berth. Mr. Darrin and the other man will go to the sick bay."

Willing hands bore the rescued ones as ordered. Dan himself followed Dave's bearers down to the sick bay and there supervised the treatment given Dave and Captain Kennor, while the medical officer went to Dan's quarters, the best on the craft.

The Englishman was soon more comfortable. His wife, however, required serious attention. Dalzell shook his head over Dave, who appeared all in and not able to talk.

"Was he in the water longer than the rest of you?" asked Dalzell, as soon as Captain Kennor was able to talk.

"No; but he vas der water in vonce before," was the reply. "Der second time he could stand not so well."

That gave Dan the clue. As soon as the medical officer could be spared from the care of the Englishwoman for a few moments he was ordered to the sick bay.

"Mr. Darrin may pull through, but I won't guarantee anything," said the surgeon, after an examination. "The chances are all against him. I am afraid the woman is going to die also."

XIV. Dave Pledges His Word For Results

That double report helped Dan Dalzell to make up his mind.

"Run straight for port," he ordered the executive officer, naming the nearest British haven that offered rail connection.

In an hour and a half the destroyer had dropped anchor at the port.

More medical aid was brought aboard, including a trained nurse for the Englishwoman.

A few hours after daylight the woman had recovered sufficiently to warrant her removal to a hospital on shore. No strong hopes were yet entertained of keeping her alive for more than a day or two. Her husband had stood the watery ordeal much better.

Captain Kennor, who, with Dave, was taken to the hospital later in the day, had nearly recovered by the day following.

But for Dave Darrin there followed black hours. According to the doctors a severe case of pneumonia was about the best that could be predicted for him.

On the day after he was taken ashore Darrin opened his eyes with a light of recognition in them. At the foot of the cot, in a chair, sat a stalwart, youthful figure. Dan Dalzell, whose orders took him to sea again that night, was waiting to the last for better news.

"Dan," Dave called, softly, and Dalzell was instantly bending over him.

"David, little giant, did you know that the 'Reed' had the good luck to pick you up?" asked Dan, eagerly.

"I had a notion of it, but I was too dazed to know really," Darrin answered.

"I've been here about all the time ever since," Dan went on. "I wanted to know the news of you as soon as it could be had. But you're going to be all right, now."

"Of course I am," agreed Dave, feebly.

Unseen by the man on the hospital cot, Dan signalled with one hand. Down the ward came a doctor, followed by a young woman wearing the blue cape ulster of the Red Cross. There was a quick, glad cry; soft lips touched Dave's face.

"Belle!" gasped Dave, delightedly.

"I'm going to be allowed to sit by you quite a bit, dear, if you don't try to talk to me," replied the steady voice of Belle Darrin. Summoned by cable sent by Dan, Belle had journeyed swiftly from France.

"And now I'm off and back to my ship, Belle," said Dan. "But I know you'll find a way to get a radio message through to me when Dave is improved enough to warrant it. Good-bye, Darry, old chap!"

And Dan was off, not because he didn't want to stay, but because he knew his chum would want to see the most of Belle. As for that young woman, who held none too positive hopes of Darrin's recovery after what the doctors had told her, she forced herself to be calm and smiling and sat close by, her hand on Dave's forehead when he dropped off into a feverish, troubled sleep.

The next day Belle chatted with her husband a little, in a cool, steady voice. Two days after that Dave was actually permitted to sit up.

On the sixth day after he had been taken to the hospital Dave was mending so rapidly that Belle, who was obliged to leave that afternoon for her Red Cross post in France, felt wholly easy in mind as to his condition.

"It was a lucky chain of events, my two swims in the channel," Darrin told her before they parted.

"Lucky, when the experience nearly cost you your life?" exclaimed Belle.

"It gave you an excuse for coming to me, and gave me the time and leisure to be with you."

"Dave Darrin, you don't mean any such thing! You are needed aboard your ship, and I am needed for my work in France, and nothing can be called really good luck that takes either of us away from his post of duty in war-time."

"You little patriot!" Dave laughed, jestingly.

"You believe it just as much as I do," Belle maintained stoutly. "I'm glad to have been here with you, dear, but I shall be glad to find myself back at my post. And you know you are glad that you will return to your ship tomorrow."

"If she comes in," Darrin amended.

"Dave, aren't you nearly wild to get back to duty?" she persisted.

"Yes, I am, for as you say, dear, we are all needed at the posts assigned to us. There is another reason why I must get back. The work that has been cut out for us is not proceeding as it should. We have made some good 'catches' in the way of mines, yet the fact is that mines are being planted much faster than we have been taking them up. I must get back to duty and see if I can find out what is wrong."

Buttoning his overcoat tightly Dave Darrin walked with Belle to the railway station. The train left so soon after their arrival that there were not many moments left the young couple for leave-taking. After the train had started Dave watched it out of sight. There had been something uncomfortable in his throat, but as he turned away the lump vanished and his jaws set squarely.

"Now, my work is cut out for me," he told himself. "I can do only one man's part in this war, but I must do that to the limit and try to make the world a safe place of residence for that little woman and all others like her!"

No sooner was the "Grigsby" in port, the next forenoon, than Lieutenant Fernald came ashore and straight to the hospital.

"Going on board today, sir?" was Fernald's greeting.

"You couldn't keep me ashore any longer," Darrin declared.

"Good enough!" said the executive officer, heartily. "We need you, sir! We've been doing our best, but the enemy has been gaining on us. Last night two ships struck mines and went down before rescue could reach them. The Germans are beating us at this mine game, and something must be done, which, of course, sir, is another way of saying that a way must be found to do the right and necessary thing."

"I've been thinking that over for twenty-four hours," Darrin went on. "As soon as we are aboard I want to talk the whole situation over with you. Will Dalzell be in today?"

"In about an hour, sir, I think. He needs fuel and some food supplies."

"Then we'll hold a council of war in the chart-room," Dave decided, as he buttoned up his coat. "I'm ready, Fernald."

Dave had already thanked the hospital authorities, and taken leave of them, so the two young naval officers passed outside, made their way down to the water front, and soon thereafter stepped aboard the "Grigsby," reporting their arrival on board to the watch officer. Dave also saw that the forward gun damaged in the fight with the German destroyers had been replaced by a new one. From the gangway they went direct to the chart-room.

"I'll hear the reports on the work now, Fernald," Dave announced.

Two of the papers that came under Dave's hand especially interested him. One was a detailed list of the ships that had struck mines during the last week in the waters in which he and Dalzell had been operating. The other document contained a report on the discovery and sinking of one fighting submarine and one submarine mine-layer.

From these reports Dave turned to the charts of the local waters. When Fernald came back with Dan Dalzell, Dave was still poring over the charts.

"From the rapid way in which German mines are being planted in these waters," Dave told his brother officers, "I am satisfied that the enemy submarines do not usually go all the way back to the base port. I believe that the mine-layers are often met by other craft that supply them with mines, and that the submarine mine-layers return quickly to the job of planting mines. Now, the sea area in which the mines are planted leads me to feel certain that the mine-layers rest frequently on these three shoals."

Dave pointed on the chart to the shoals in question.

"How many mine-sweeping craft have we now under our orders?" he inquired.

"Nine," said Dan, promptly.

"How many of them can we spare from mine-sweeping?"

"None," Dalzell replied, positively.

"Either we must spare some, or we must have some sweeper craft added to our fleet," Dave went on. "There are three of these shoals, and hereafter I want two mine-sweepers to spend their time dragging their wires over each shoal. That will take six craft, and these will not have time to do any sweeping in the open sea. We cannot clean up the mines themselves with three craft, can we?"

"Plainly not," Dan agreed, "since, with all nine, we have not been able to find and take up all the mines we should have located."

"Then we shall have to have more craft," Dave nodded. "Yet if we cannot have more craft assigned to this work, we must go ahead with what we have and do more work. But I believe that the hunt over the shoals should be kept up day and night, without rest, for I am satisfied that the enemy mine-layers rest on these shoals more frequently than we have supposed."

After some further conversation Dave had his launch cleared away and went over to a British battleship for a conference with the British admiral in command in those waters. The best the admiral could do was to supply him with three of the hundred-and-ten-foot patrol boats. These, however, were provided with sweepers and possessed good speed.

"I hope you're right, Mr. Darrin," said the admiral, at the close of the interview. "To be frank with you, your predecessor in the work of cleaning up enemy mines in this area was a British naval officer, considerably older than yourself. He is a very capable man in many ways, but we felt that he had been so long on coast work that he was growing much too stale. So, when I decided to transfer him to other duties I thought of trying one of your American officers, a young man, full of spirit, and fresh for this work. So I asked your admiral for some one, and he sent Dalzell and yourself."

"So far," said Dave, "I have not done any better than my English predecessor, sir?"

"Frankly you have not, yet we must remember to deduct your very necessary week in hospital. However, you have done some other excellent things. The capture of the mine-laying neutral, the 'Olga,' for instance, was a splendid bit of work. The fight that you and Mr. Dalzell had with the three enemy destroyers was a fine job. But the mines in these waters continue to be as much of a menace as before."

"They won't be, by this time next week, sir. I promise that," said Dave, rising. "How soon can the commanders of the three patrol boats report to me?"

"At once. All three are here in the harbor, and, I am told, they are ready to put to sea."

"Then, sir, I propose, within a week, to hand you a wholly satisfactory report," Darrin went on. "I had to put in some time on the ground, and it was necessary to study a new problem. Then came a series of adventures that took me out of the work for a while. But now, sir, I hope to show you something new—results!"

XV. Darrin Suspects the German Plan

The three shoals selected by Darrin extended over a length of about thirty miles along the coast. It was the center one of these shoals on which he had had previous experience.

Further, it was arranged that Dalzell should, in general, cruise along the lower fifteen miles of this stretch, while the "Grigsby" should cover the upper half. From time to time the two destroyers would meet.

After sending three mine-sweepers and the three patrol boats to the shoals, two craft to each shoal, Darrin saw to it that the other six were assigned to duty in the deeper waters off shore.

Then, with a hearty signal to the "Reed," the "Grigsby" started northward. She steamed by the southernmost shoal, and was passing the second when Darrin was called to the bridge by Ensign Ormsby.

"That patrol boat in there signals that she has made a find, sir, so I have changed the course and am heading in."

Dave's eyes gleamed as he made out the next signal from the patrol, which was:

"Soundings show her to be a big craft. Shall we rig the small bombs on the sweep wires?"

"Wait until we arrive," was the answering signal from the "Grigsby."

In a few minutes the destroyer was within hailing distance of the patrol boat, which was lying to in the neighborhood of the find.

"The enemy submarine appears to be at least 275 feet long, sir," reported the patrol boat commander.

"Then a depth bomb should do the business better," Dave shouted back through the megaphone. "Sail over the craft with your sweep, and I'll follow. Signal when you judge us to be squarely over her."

Under bare headway the "Grigsby" fell in behind the now slow-moving patrol boat. Almost at once the wire sweeps discovered the hull of the hiding monster.

Ahead steamed the patrol boat, the destroyer following. Aft two men stood by the depth bomb apparatus. Down came the white flag of the British signalman on the smaller craft.

Dave's hand rested on the telegraph lever to the engine-room. He signalled for full speed ahead, then at the proper moment he shouted:

"Let her go!"

An instant later the bomb splashed into the water.

Immediately following the splash there came a sullen, rending roar under water. A great column of water leaped up from the sea, a heavy volume of it landing on the after deck of the destroyer, all but washing overboard one of the lookouts. The pressure of water fairly lifted the stern of the "Grigsby" until her bow dipped far in.

Ensign Ormsby was thrown flat, almost rolling from the bridge. Dave, fortunately, had taken a grip that saved him from falling.

It seemed as though the destroyer herself had been blown up, but she quickly settled and scooted ahead at a furious rate.

"Half speed ahead," Darrin signalled, as soon as he could let go his grip, and the "Grigsby" slowed down. At the same time she swung around.

Even at that distance the huge spread of oil on the surface could be seen. A wild Yankee cheer rose, which was promptly echoed by the British tars of the patrol boat.

"No depth bomb ever made that upheaval," Dave gasped, as soon as he could speak, and Mr. Ormsby, much shaken, had picked himself up. "The bombs are ugly affairs, but that felt like the explosion of about ten of them."

"Did you notice, sir, that the explosion lasted more than twice as long as we've ever known one to last before?" the watch officer asked.

"Yes."

"Then what happened, sir?"

"Either our explosion touched off a torpedo, which does not seem likely, or else—"

For an instant what he was about to say sounded so absurd that Darrin hesitated.

"Well, sir—?" queried Ormsby.

"Or else that was a mine-layer, with a full cargo of mines aboard, all ready for business, and—But you'll think I've gone daffy."

"No, I won't, sir; not after the way this ship rose out of the water," the watch officer declared. "You mean, sir, that our bomb went off right over that craft's cargo of mines, and that the shock must have set off the mines."

"That's certainly the way it looks to me," Darrin nodded.

"I believe it, sir."

Just a few moments later the patrol boat came within hail. Through his megaphone Darrin stated what he believed had taken place.

"It's the only thing to account, sir, for such a tremendous explosion," replied the commander of the patrol. "I've been on hand to see a lot of depth bombs go off, and I never saw an upheaval like the one you produced, sir."

"Have soundings taken, Mr. Ormsby," Darrin directed. The depth of the water was quickly reported. Dave glanced at the sky.

"The light will be strong enough for another hour," he decided. "Have our two divers prepare to go down at once."

A launch, cleared away with the divers on board, was anchored in the middle of the oil spot. Two divers went over the side. Presently they signalled for extra cables. When these were let down they attached pieces of metal and gave the signal to haul away.

By the time that the hour was up Darrin had abundant evidence to prove that he had destroyed a mine-layer, and that his bomb had blown up several mines stored on the craft. This evidence took the form of fragments of mines.

"Some of these pieces must even have been driven up against our hull," Darrin declared. "It is a wonder that we were not sunk."

"The counter pressure of the water would lessen the force of these fragments, especially after they had been blown out through the shell of the submarine," Lieutenant Fernald argued. "But I agree with you, sir, that it's a wonder the 'Grigsby' suffered nothing worse than a shaking."

Other evidence, too, the divers sent up. The destroyed craft had surely been a mine-laying submarine. The divers measured the length of the wrecked hull, finding it to be close to three hundred feet. They reported, too, that scores of German dead lay in the wreckage.

For hours nothing more happened. Just before ten o'clock that night the mine-sweeper's blinkers signalled a call to the "Grigsby," then about four miles distant.

"They've found something," Darrin chuckled, when he reached the bridge on a call from Lieutenant Fernald.

As the "Grigsby" was heading in toward the shoal, and had some minutes still to go, Darrin asked:

"Mr. Fernald, you had a second and even more thorough inspection of the hull made, as I directed?"

"Yes, sir; and found the hull so secure that I did not wake you to tell you, sir. There has been no strain of the plates sufficient to start any of them."

"I'm thankful to hear that," Darrin acknowledged. "Even with the big, elastic cushion of water between us and that awful explosion, it seems almost incredible that we did not wreck ourselves as well as the enemy."

"You've found another submarine?" Dave shouted through the megaphone, as he rang for slow speed and ran parallel with the waiting snub-nosed craft.

"We've found two somethings, sir," came back the reply. "They lie about four hundred feet apart and heading in the same direction. I can find them again, sir, but I didn't go back over them for fear they'd take the alarm and run for it."

"Perhaps they have," Darrin suggested.

"I've dropped small buoys, sir, and can lead you over them."

"Then do so, and travel at full speed. Be prepared to get out of our way if we come fast after dropping."

Even the two cool-headed sailors who stood by the depth bomb apparatus stiffened themselves as they found the "Grigsby" following in the wake of the mine-sweeper. The after lookouts lashed themselves fast against injury by any such surprise as that of the afternoon.

As the signal flashed from the mine-sweeper ahead Dave passed the order for the bomb instantly after ordering full speed.

There was an explosion, but an ordinary one, such as this crew of the destroyer was accustomed to.

At full speed, too, Dave tried for the second hidden enemy boat. There was barely time to have the second bomb in place when signal and order came.

Another terrific explosion, like that of the afternoon! It seemed as though the waters must divide! Yet the "Grigsby," moving fast all the time, felt the shock severely, but not like the one of the afternoon.

About the destroyer came, playing her searchlight on the waters. The tell-tale oil patches were there, showing only too plainly that two submarine craft had been destroyed.

"Apparently one craft carried no mines, while the other was loaded with them," said Dave to his executive officer. "Fernald, I think I'm beginning to get an idea of the way the enemy are working their mine-laying game. If I'm right we'll make a record along this patch of shoals while the hunting lasts."

Patiently Fernald listened and waited, but did not speak. He hoped to hear what his chief's idea was, but it was not the executive officer's place to ask for it.

"I may even be able to figure out when the best time would be for hunting these lazy rascals resting on the bottom," Darrin continued.

Mr. Fernald began to show signs of a more active curiosity.

"But I won't say much about it," Darrin smiled, "until I've more data to work on and have proved some part of my theory."

Lieutenant Fernald looked so much like a man who wished to speak that Dave laughed.

"Out with it, Fernald," he urged good-humoredly. "You've an idea, too. You may tell me if you wish."

"Why, sir," replied the executive officer, "I've about concluded that the enemy mine-laying submarines do not go back to base port for more mines. They have some method for delivering them near here, and thus the mine-layers are able to keep more steadily at work."

"That fits in excellently with my idea," Darrin nodded.

"And that would account for the great numbers of mines that the enemy is able to lay hereabouts, and yet not have many of the craft caught by us," Lieutenant Fernald continued.

"Exactly," Dave agreed. "Moreover, the mine-layers take on their new supplies at night, and do their resting here at night, and get away from these shoals just before daylight."

"Of course," Fernald agreed. "If they rested here much in the daytime the aircraft would discover and destroy them."

"We'll both keep at work on our ideas, Fernald," Dave proposed. "Besides, we can take time to find facts to support our theories. Then we can get together and start in the biggest smashing of mine-laying craft on record."

Both paused in their talk to listen to the sudden boom of guns. Judged by the sound and the wind, the firing was some six miles away.

"Lookout there!" Darrin sang out. "Do you see anything?"

"Yes, sir," came the reply from aloft. "It must be the 'Reed,' sir. She must have gotten into something stiff, for she's moving shoreward at slow speed and firing as fast as she can serve her guns. She's firing in shoreward, sir."

XVI. Hitting Close to the Salt Trail

"Give us a rocket signal if you need help," Dave signalled the attendant mine-sweeper.

Then to the officer of the watch:

"Give us full speed, and we'll run down to see if the 'Reed' has work enough for two of our kind."

A little further south he signalled same orders to the patrol boat that he had given to the mine-sweeper.

Then the "Grigsby" rushed onward as if she scented something of which she did not wish her crew to be deprived.

As soon as Darrin discovered that Dalzell was using his searchlight he ordered the "Grigsby's" also to be used. Over the waters the bar of light swept until it picked up a sight that made the officers on the bridge gasp for sheer astonishment.

Two submarines, some five hundred yards apart, lay on the surface of the sea.

Strangest part of all, neither craft was serving its guns. Why they neither fought nor dived puzzled the "Grigsby's" officers until the "Reed's" guns ceased firing and her blinkers signalled to Dave:

"Don't fire on them unless I do. They're helpless."

The "Reed," first to approach the submarines, steamed in between them. Then as the "Grigsby" raced up, she received this message from Dalzell:

"Wish you would take charge of the nearer submarine. I'll handle the other."

On both enemy craft, as seen under the searchlight, the German crews had come out on deck. It was clear that they wished to surrender without further loss of life.

So Dave ordered a launch cleared away, with a prize crew armed to the teeth, Ensign Andrews in command.

"You men get as far forward as possible," Andrews shouted to the huddled enemy. "Be careful not to have any weapons about you. We'll accept you as prisoners of war, but any attempt at treachery will be sternly punished!"

As he spoke the ensign rested one hand on the barrel of a machine gun in the launch's bow. Instantly the Germans began to move forward, only their four officers remaining near the conning tower.

"Stand by to catch a line and make fast," called the ensign, as the launch, under headway, lay in close.

Though they plainly understood, not one of the German officers made a move to catch a rope. Instead, one of them called to the huddled seamen, two of whom came back to take the line.

Making fast, Andrews stepped aboard, followed by some of his armed crew.

"You are the only officers of this craft?" Andrews demanded.

"Yes," sullenly replied the ober-lieutenant.

"Be good enough to hold up your hands while we search you."

Though their eyes flashed their rage, the German officers raised their hands while a petty officer "frisked" them one after the other.

"None of them armed, sir," was the report.

"Then into the launch with them. Next, order the seamen and engine-tenders aft and search them. The launch will carry about twenty prisoners on the first trip."

Soon the score of prisoners had been delivered aboard the "Grigsby." A second lot was sent over, after which Andrews decided that he could take charge of the remainder on their own craft. He now had force enough with him to keep this unarmed remainder in subjection.

Heading an armed party the ensign went below in the submarine to make an inspection. He had already noted a shell-hole through the hull which had made it impossible for this submarine to dive without drowning the crew. But he found other matters to interest him. This was a mine-layer craft, and at the present moment she had more than twenty mines on board.

One of Dalzell's junior officers, searching the other submarine, found her to be a mine-layer, too, but with only two mines on board. This second craft, also, had been pierced through the hull in such fashion that there had been no chance for her to escape by submerging.

On each craft forward a crane had been set up, and still stood. Dan Dalzell's report, when made, shed a good deal of light on German methods.

The "Reed" had been barely drifting when two submarines had come up within two miles of the destroyer. It was the noise of erecting the cranes that had warned Dalzell's watch officer of their presence there on the dark sea.

Suddenly, through night glasses, Dan, who had been called to the bridge, discovered what was taking place. On the quiet waters of this night the two craft had managed to get near enough to each other to attempt to transfer mines from one to the other.

Then it was that the "Reed" had opened fire with her guns, had turned on her searchlight and had rushed in.

As soon as the German commanders found their boats punctured into helplessness they had signalled their surrender.

"But I was glad indeed when I saw you bearing down on us," Dan announced, when he visited his chum a little later. "The enemy had surrendered, but I know enough of German treachery to realize that they might let me drive in close and then try to torpedo me. I needn't have worried, but of course I could not afford to take chances."

Sending for Boatswain's Mate Runkle, Dave inquired:

"Do you speak German?"

"I know about six words, sir; not as many as eight."

"Then you are the man for the job, Runkle. Go down among the prisoners that have been sent on board, the seamen, I mean, not the officers. Act as though you were there on duty, but not very busy. Use your six words of German and make English do for the rest. The German sailors won't understand you, unless some of them speak English. That will be all the better, for as soon as you discover that some of the men don't know what you are saying you will be able to judge which of those who speak no English are the most stupid, or the most likely to talk and tell us the truth. Spot three or four of these stupid ones, and then bring one of them here to the chart-room."

"Now, what on earth does the 'Old Man' want?" wondered Runkle, as he started away on this errand. "But never mind. Even if I can't guess what he wants it's a cinch that he knows. The stupidest one, eh? I wonder why any Fritz wouldn't do, then!"

Runkle found his man within five minutes, detached him from the other prisoners, and led him to the chart-room. Darrin tried his own German on the fellow, asking:

"Your craft had just arrived from the base port?"

The man stared, then slowly nodded.

"How many mines did you have on board when you left the base port?"

"Thirty, I heard."

"You planted some on the way?"

"A few, so I heard."

"Most of the mines you were to deliver here tonight?"

"Yes."

"How many trips a week has your craft been making between here and the base port?"

"Usually about four."

"Did you always deliver, here, to the same mine-layer?"

"No; that was as it happened. Sometimes to one boat, sometimes to another."

"How many mines could your craft carry?"

"Thirty."

As this agreed with the information supplied by Ensign Andrews, Dave believed that the seaman was telling the truth.

"Did your craft always come to these same waters to deliver mines to mine-layers?"

"Always, since I have been aboard, to some one of the shoals in this stretch of them," replied the sailor.

"Do you know how many mine-layers wait over here on the English side to have mines delivered to them?"

"No, but they are not so many."

"A few, supplied four times a week, can plant a lot of mines," quizzed Darrin.

"Oh, yes."

"And the craft you were aboard was one of the smaller ones that brought cargoes of mines. Your people have some that carry much larger numbers of mines?"

"Yes, and the larger boats that bring mines over to the real mine-layers travel faster under water than our boat did."

"So that these larger boats can make at least five round trips a week?" Dave asked.

"Oh, yes."

"You have not told me the name of your base port," Darrin went on.

"And I don't intend to," retorted the seaman. "You are asking me too many questions. I should not have said as much as I did, and I shall not answer any more questions."

"You do not need to," Dave assured him. "I already know the answers to a lot of questions that I might have asked you. But you look like a reasonable fellow, and also like a fellow fond of some of the good things of life. Had I found you more ready to talk I might have arranged for you to have a pleasanter time in the English prison than your mates will have."

"A pleasanter time until the hangman called for us?" demanded the German, a cunning look coming into his eyes.

"The hangman?" Darrin repeated.

"Oh, yes! I know! We all know. The English hang the crews of German submarines. Our officers have told us all about it. You are wrong, too, to hang us, for it is the knowledge that the English will hang us that makes us fight more desperately when we are attacked."

"But the English will not hang you. You and your mates will be treated as prisoners of war," Darrin assured him. "You will be well fed. You will have some amusements. When spring comes you will have gardens to work in and the flowers or vegetables that you raise will belong to you. It is a stupid lie to tell you that the English hang you all. You will soon be on shore, and in an English prison camp, and then you will know that you have been lied to. You will enjoy finding yourself on shore, for you were not often allowed to go ashore when you got back from these trips to take on your next mine cargo at—"

It was a simple trap, but as Darrin paused, the seaman replied:

"No, we were not often allowed ashore in ——," naming the port.

The port that the seaman mentioned was the one Darrin had been trying to get him to name. The German had unwittingly allowed himself to name the base port from which the mines were shipped. As soon as the German realized his blunder he used some bad language.

"That is all," said Dave Darrin. "You may go back to your mates, and by daylight you will know that an English military prison is not at all a bad place."

XVII. Trying Out the Big, New Plan

"You see," Dave nodded to his brother officers, "the theory we had worked out about the method of supplying mines to the submarine layers was the right one. I think that we shall be able to show some results to the admiral."

Dan was then instructed to remain to keep watch over the shoals, while the "Grigsby" soon afterwards started for port, escorting the two prizes.

Before daylight the captured under-sea boats were duly turned over to the British authorities. Darrin then sought the admiral, and, despite the lateness of the hour, he was soon admitted.

"What do you need for your enterprise?" inquired the admiral after listening attentively to the plan Dave had unfolded to him.

"Nothing but a dirigible, commanded by the right man," Dave explained.

"That ought not to be difficult," declared the British officer. "You shall have what you want. Now, suppose we go over the chart, to make sure that I understand just what you propose to do."

On the map Darrin traced the course that he felt sure the German underseas craft pursued when bringing cargoes of mines to the other submarines that were laying mines in British waters.

"That would be the natural course for such craft to take," agreed Admiral Wheatleigh. "I trust that you are right in your surmises. If you are, we should have some excellent results within the next few days."

"I shall know, sir, within forty-eight hours, and I think it likely that the enemy will also hear something about it within the next few days. At least, sir, the German admiralty should be able to guess."

Dave took his leave, hastening back to the "Grigsby," which, an hour later, weighed anchor and stood out to sea. By that time Dave was sound asleep, for he had been through a great deal and was sorely in need of rest before he reached the scene of his intended activities.

Some hours later he was called, and was soon on the bridge.

"You are at the point at which you wished to be called," said Fernald when Dave reached the bridge.

"And you will do well to seek your own rest now, Mr. Fernald," Darrin answered. "You can be called, if needed."

Half an hour later Darrin made out, in the sky astern, a tiny speck that rapidly came closer, and proved to be the dirigible sent at his request.

As the dirigible came nearer signals were rapidly exchanged. The course for the aircraft was made plain. As for the "Grigsby," her speed was slowed down to mere headway and she loafed over the waters.

Two hours passed during which the "blimp" aloft sailed rapidly to and fro in the sky, zig-zagging over the course in a way that covered several square miles in an hour.

"She's found something, sir!" cried Ensign Andrews.

"She has sighted a craft, bound over the course we had suspected," said Darrin, as signals broke out rapidly from the car under the big gas bag. "We'll let the submarine get by us before we start in chase."

Another half hour passed, for, though the dirigible moved swiftly, the underseas craft she was watching was moving only at submerged speed.

Then the chase led on past the "Grigsby." Purposely Darrin allowed it to go by him by about a mile ere he joined in the pursuit. Starting at half speed ahead he soon changed it to full speed.

And now the dirigible had slowed down, until she was travelling, as her signals stated, at just the speed of the submerged craft directly under her.

"We'll go in by the stern and try to make a quick job of it," Darrin proposed, as he gave Andrews final instructions, and turned to see that the signalman with his flag stood well aft on the superstructure.

As the destroyer raced in almost under the dirigible Darrin raised his right hand. The signalman with the flag did the same.

Just as the "Grigsby's" bridge passed in under the tail of the aircraft Dave Darrin read the signal for which he had waited. The airmen were telling him that the bridge of his craft was almost over the bow of the hidden enemy beneath.

Down came Dave's raised hand. Seeing it fall, the signalman let his flag drop.

In that same instant the depth bomb was released for its course over the "Grigsby's" stern.

Almost in the same second there sounded a terrific if muffled report under the surface. The water rose in three distinct columns, lifting the stern of the "Grigsby" and almost burying her bow under.

It was as though a great geyser and an earthquake had met. Columns like waterspouts hurled themselves across and over the reeling destroyer. Even when the "Grigsby's" nose came out and up once more the destroyer rocked in the near tidal wave that the swift series of explosions had produced.

"Pardon me, sir," begged Ensign Andrews, when he had regained control of himself. "I feel constrained to remark, sir, that you appear to know how to get all the thrills out of life."

"We must have landed right over a mine cargo once more," Dave answered smiling. "There were several explosions, but they came nearly together. One of these days we'll start something like that that will send us up half a mile into the air. But it's great sport, Andrews, especially when you pause to think what it all means."

"Great sport for us, but too sudden for the Huns," rejoined the watch officer. "They cannot have had the satisfaction, even, of realizing that anything had hit them."

Satisfied that there would be no more underseas explosions, Darrin gave the order to come about.

That the underseas craft had been struck was indicated clearly enough by the patches of oil on the water. The force of the explosion told the Yankee tars that the craft must have been blown into bits.

"Best thing I ever saw done!" signalled the British officer in command of the "blimp."

"Find us another, and we'll try to show you something just as good," Darrin caused to be signalled back.

Fernald, who had been called, having reported, was sent with the chief engineer to make a hull inspection below decks. Though some of the hull plates had been dented inward enough to attract attention, no leak could be found. The "Grigsby" was as seaworthy as ever, though after that rocking shock this seemed a marvel.

Off in the distance the "blimp" soon became a mere speck to the watchful eyes of those on the destroyer.

Dave directed that the aircraft be followed at cruising speed so long as she remained in sight. When the dirigible was at last lost to view the destroyer lay to, her lookouts using their glasses.

"Think the aircraft is coming back, sir," reported a lookout from the military mast.

From where he stood on the bridge Darrin could make out nothing for several minutes, though in the interval the lookout aloft reported that he could make out the "blimp" with surety, and that she appeared to be flying a signal, though he could not see what it was.

Then from the bridge the "blimp" became visible. A little later, too, the flag signal could be seen and read.

"Following another submarine," was what the signal said.

Going to starboard of the course Darrin advanced at ordinary speed to meet the "blimp," which, as in the former case, was flying just barely astern of the hidden monster, so that the forward British airman lookout could discern the shape of the craft that was being pursued.

Dave waited until the dirigible had passed. He then gave the order, "Full speed ahead," and came about behind the "blimp."

Leaping forward the "Grigsby" gave chase, the "blimp" at the same time moving up directly over the intended prey.

At the drop of the flag above, Darrin let go his right hand, the signalman transmitted the order, and the bomb rolled overboard.

As Dave's hand fell the watch officer advanced the lever of the engine-room telegraph. An extra jump was put into the speed.

Again a column of water rose astern, but this time there was only the normal explosion of the depth bomb.

"Good hit," said the dirigible, by radio, and the message was called up to the bridge. "Saw her stagger. She's done for."

The "blimp" veered off once more, going back over her late course. As the "Grigsby" went about Darrin made out the tell-tale spread of oil on the waves.

"This is the real form of hunting," he exclaimed.

"Too bad, sir, that none of us thought of it before," remarked Ensign Andrews.

"We had to wait and learn," Dave explained. "That's the way that all progress in this war has been registered. We are fighting an ingenious enemy. Destroying the submarine mine-carriers, as we are doing today, won't end the planting of German mines. As soon as the enemy finds out how we are checkmating him he'll invent another scheme, which we'll have to discover before we can beat it."

Half an hour later the British aircraft located a third submarine.

"A big one, too," she signalled. "Following the same course."

"Mr. 'Blimp' might try a bomb himself," suggested Ensign Andrews. "I believe he carries a few."

"Not as powerful ones as we carry," Darrin answered. "Besides, he has to be at a greater altitude, when hunting submarines, than it's handy to drop a bomb from. There is too much margin of chance that the enemy craft will graze by when the bomb is dropped from the air. In our case, if we drop when directly over the Hun, there can hardly be a miss, and it's the dirigible's business to tell us when we are directly over the enemy."

In the meantime, on board the destroyer, all was made ready, and Dave followed the same tactics as before. This time, too, there was a normal explosion, though a solid hit was made and the submarine destroyed. Apart from the "blimp's" report there could be no doubt as to the destruction. The spread of oil on the surface of the sea told the story.

"If you and we hurry, we may bag another before dark," Dave sent by wireless, as the aircraft started back again.

"We'll do our best, believe us!" came back the word.

In the late afternoon a slight haze came up, which gradually deepened.

Darrin followed for a few miles, keeping the "blimp" in sight. She was some six miles away when a radio message came from her in code in these words:

"Can you see steamship about four knots north-west of us?"

Dave challenged the lookout on the military mast, but that seaman reported the weather a bit too thick to enable him to make out the steamship. Darrin accordingly wirelessed back this information.

"Looks like a tramp steamer," came the next message, "but she acted suspiciously when she sighted us. Her skipper appears perturbed, which he would hardly be if his business is honest. Weather is thickening so we may lose him in the haze. Better close in."

"Will do so," Dave replied.

Then followed explicit directions as to the course the destroyer must follow.

The next code message from the airship was:

"Skipper of steamship so bothered that he appears to be rigging anti-aircraft gun. Am about to signal him to stop for search."

Despite the haze over the sea the "blimp's" movements could still be made out from the deck of the destroyer. Mast lookouts and those on bridge and deck followed the "blimp's" movements with keen interest.

"He maneuvers as if he were closing in on the steamship," declared Ensign Andrews.

"If the steamer's skipper uses anti-aircraft guns the dirigible's commander will be justified in dropping bombs," Dave returned. "It's a stupid piece of business for any lightly armed steamer to attempt to resist a 'blimp.' But of course the steamer's skipper does not know that there is a warship so close."

"The rascal's firing on us," reported the "blimp."

"If you'll keep back we'll close in and talk to the stranger," Darrin suggested, by wireless.

"We're hit," almost instantly came the report from the airship.

"Badly?" Dave asked by radio.

"Investigating. Report soon."

"That ship must be up to something extremely desperate to dare to fire on a British 'blimp'!" exclaimed Dave Darrin. "But we're getting close, and soon ought to know what we have to tackle!"

XVIII. Striking a Real Surprise

"Are we heading straight course?" was Dave's next question through the air.

"You're going straight," came the cheering information.

"Found out your hurt?"

"Yes; gas-bag intact, and we've withdrawn out of easy range. One motor damaged more than we can repair in air. Can limp home, however."

"Leave the steamship to me," Darrin wirelessed back.

Inside of another minute and a half, Darrin made out the mast-tops of the stranger sticking up from the fringe of haze as the cloudy, reddish curtain shifted.

If Dave had sighted his intended prey, so had the stranger caught sight of the destroyer. The steamship cut a wide circle and turned tail.

"He's going at nineteen knots, we judge," came the radio report from the "blimp."

"That won't do him any good!" was the laconic answer that Darrin returned, this time in plain English instead of code.

The lower masts, the stack and then the hull of the stranger became visible as Darrin gained on him.

Bang! A shell struck the water ahead of the stranger, the war-ship's world-wide signal to halt.

Instead, the stranger appeared to be trying to crowd on more speed.

"Give him one in the stern-post," Darrin ordered.

The shell fell just a few feet short. The third one landed on the after-part of the stranger's deck-house.

And now there went fluttering up the top of the destroyer's mast the international code signal:

"Stop or we'll sink you!"

It took another shell, this one crashing through the stern of the stranger, to convince her skipper that the destroyer was in deadly earnest.

By this time the "Grigsby" was a bare half-mile away, and going fast.

"We're bringing to bear on you to blow you out of the water," Darrin signalled this time. "Will you stop?"

If he had made any plan to die fighting the fleeing skipper must have lost his nerve at that point, for he suddenly swung his bow around, reduced speed and moved ahead at mere steerage-way.

"Call Ensign Peters to clear away a launch with an armed crew," Darrin directed. "I will accompany him, for I must see what reason that craft had for firing on a British dirigible."

On either bow of the strange steamship was painted the national flag of the same neutral nation to which the "Olga" had appeared to belong. She flew no bunting.

"Stand by to receive boarding party," a signalman on the "Grigsby's" bridge wigwagged as the launch started toward the water.

The two craft lay now not more than five hundred yards apart. Across the water sped the fast power launch and came up alongside of the unknown steamship, which displayed no name.

Not a human being was now visible on her deck. An undersized watch officer had appeared on the bridge, but he now vanished.

"Who commands that destroyer?" demanded a voice in English, though it had the broken accent of a German-born speaker.

"I do," Darrin replied.

"Then stay where you are, for you're covered!" ordered the same voice in a frenzied tone. "We're not going to have you aboard. Signal the destroyer to make off at top speed and we'll leave you when she is out of sight. Refuse, and we kill you at once. Refuse, and you lose your life."

"Lower your gangway, and stop your nonsense," Dave ordered, angrily. "You're dealing with the United States Navy, and your orders cannot control our conduct."

"Then you are a dead man, at once!" declared the voice of the unseen speaker.

Unnoticed by others, Darrin had given a hand signal to a petty officer in the bow of the launch.

"If you do not lower your side gangway at once, we shall find our own means for boarding," Dave shouted, wrathfully. "Instantly, sir!"

Thereupon half a dozen heads appeared over a bulwark above. As many rifle muzzles were thrust over the edge of the bulwark and a prompt fire began.

Disdaining to draw his automatic Darrin stood up in the launch, the center of such a hail of bullets that his continued existence seemed incredible. Above the reports of the rifles could be heard the voice of Ensign Peters as he directed the swinging around of the launch.

R-r-r-r-rip! The launch's machine gun came swiftly into play. Bullets rattled against the iron sides of the ship.

Four of the six seamen on her deck were seen to fall back; the remaining two fled as fast as they could go.

Then the muzzle of the machine gun was swung, and a hundred little missiles were driven through the wheel-house.

At an unspoken signal the launch moved in until a sailor in the bow could hurl upward an iron grappling hook. At the first cast it caught on at the top of the rail, while the machine gunners trained their weapon to "get" any one who endeavored to cast off the grapple.

"Up with you!" shouted Darrin. One after another half a dozen sailors raced up the rope, swinging over to the deck.

Dave followed next, then more seamen. All were armed and ready for instant work of the sternest kind.

Two sailors lay dead, rifles beside them. Pools of blood showed that at least two more wounded men had been there, but had fled. No one else belonging to the ship was in sight on deck.

"Boatswain's mate, take the bridge," ordered Dave, as more men came up on board. "Put two men in the wheel-house. Take command of the deck with such men as I do not take with me."

Calling half a dozen seamen, and ordering them to draw their automatic revolvers, Darrin proceeded to the chart-room. He tried the door, but found it locked.

"Break it down," he ordered, and in a jiffy the thing had been done. But the chart-room proved to be empty.

Further aft Darrin went along the deck-house. The cabins of the captain and two mates were found to be empty.

"We'll soon know where the crew have gone to," he remarked.

In the dining-room were found three men in dingy blue uniforms, who appeared to be ship's officers. The oldest, who scowled hardest at the same time, Dave took to be the skipper.

"You command this ship?" Darrin inquired.

"If you say so," replied the man addressed.

"You must, for you are the fellow who ordered me to send my ship away," Darrin smiled grimly. "Are you a German?"

"None of your business. Why have you killed two of our crew and hurt others?"

"Drop that nonsense," Darrin retorted, sternly. "You know why we fired on you. And your men slightly wounded two of mine."

"We had a right to," scowled the other.

"You'll know better, by the time you've reached a British prison," Dave rejoined. "Men, place these three fellows under arrest. Search them."

Only the man who appeared to be the craft's master resisted being searched. He swung at one of the sailors, but Darrin jumped in, knocking him down and holding him to the floor.

"Put irons on this scoundrel," he ordered, sharply, a command so quickly obeyed that almost instantly the defiant one found himself manacled. Then Dave yanked the fellow to his feet.

"You are a bully," growled the prisoner.

"I am," mocked Dave, "when I have fellows of your stripe to handle. Men, you'd better iron that pair, too. They belong to the same outfit."

None of the three proved to have any arms on his person.

"Now, where are the members of your crew?" Dave demanded of the manacled skipper.

"Find them!" came the surly retort.

"In what business is this ship engaged?"

"Find out!"

"Bring these prisoners out on deck," Darrin commanded. Then, as the order was obeyed, Darrin made his way to the bridge.

"Boatswain's mate, pipe all hands on deck," he directed.

Shrilly the whistle sounded at the lips of the petty officer. But no men came to answer.

"We'll try other tactics, then," Darrin smiled.

Stepping to the wheel-house door he pulled it open. Inside was evidence of the havoc that the machine gun fire had worked there. Everything had been riddled, including the helmsman, who lay dead on the floor.

At this moment, however, Dave had no time to do more than glance at the dead man. Reaching for the whistle he blew a long blast, and caused the fire bell to be rung, the signal to stand by to abandon ship.

That brought seamen and stokers trooping to the deck, until more than thirty had so appeared.

"Does any man among you understand English?" Darrin called down as he leaned over the rail in front of the wheel-house.

"I do," came from one of the crew.

"Then inform your mates that this craft has been seized as lawful prize of the United States Navy. Where is your boatswain?"

"That's me," said the same speaker, gruffly.

"Very good. Deliver my message to the crew. Then make sure that all hands are on deck. If you deceive me you will be held sternly to account for trickery."

"All here," reported the boatswain, after a quick count, "except the cook and his helpers."

"Send for them, and tell them to report here at once."

When the ship's force had been summoned, save for the two sailors known to be dead on the starboard side of the ship, Darrin continued:

"There were some wounded men."

"Two," said the boatswain.

"Where are they?"

"Below. One is badly hurt. The other is binding his wounds."

Dave had by this time walked down on to the deck. There was a forecastle large enough to hold the crew, and he ordered all of the men into it, except the boatswain, whom he sent with three of his own men to find the wounded. These latter two were brought to the captain's cabin. The two dead seamen, after Darrin had gained their names from the boatswain, were picked up and thrown overboard into the sea. The boatswain was then sent to join the prisoners.

"Four of you men come with me, and we'll search the rest of the cabin part of the ship," Darrin directed.

Off the dining room were four doors that Dave believed opened into sleeping cabins. The first door that Darrin tried proved to be locked. One of his men carried a sledge-hammer that had been found in the wheel-house.

"Batter down the door!" Dave ordered.

Ere this order could be carried out the door flew open. A tall young woman, barely more than twenty years of age, stood in the doorway, her head thrown back, cheeks flushed, her look proud and disdainful. In her right hand she held a revolver.

"Go away from here!" she ordered. "Else I shall kill you!"

XIX. The Good Work Goes On

"You will have to lower that pistol, young lady," warned Dave, calmly, as he walked toward her. The sailors had drawn back to either side of the doorway, but the young woman stood where she could aim at anyone in the American party.

The seaman nearest the revolver glanced quickly at Darrin, as if to inquire whether he should make an attempt to seize her pistol wrist and wrench the weapon away.

But Dave ignored the man's glance as he stepped up, eyeing the young woman coolly.

"Lower the pistol," he warned, again. "If you tried to use it, it would tell against you hard, before an English court, and these are wartimes, you know."

He was now within two feet of the weapon, which was pointed at his head.

"I shall kill you if you try to come near me," the young woman insisted desperately.

But Dave took another step. She pulled the trigger. There was a bright flash, a loud report.

"Lower that pistol!"

Dave, however, had been watching that trigger finger. As he saw it stiffen he dropped suddenly almost to his knees, the bullet passing over his head and embedding itself in woodwork across the cabin.

Darrin sprang up unharmed. His cap had caught a powder burn; that was all. He gripped the woman's wrist in a hand of steel. With his other hand he coolly took the pistol away from her, then dropped her wrist.

Bursting into a fit of hysterical weeping the woman drew back, endeavoring to close the cabin door. But Darrin's foot across the sill defeated her purpose.

"You are a brute!" she panted, frantically trying to close the door.

"At least," he assured her, "I have saved you from a crime that would have cost you your own life. Look out, please, for I am going to throw your door wide open."

"You—you coward!" she panted, and struggled to close the door.

"Stand back! I am sorry to have to use force, but you compel it."

As she refused to give ground Darrin gave the door a push that forced her back, crowding her against a berth. Then he stepped into the little cabin.

In a lower berth lay a middle-aged woman whose piercing black eyes snapped as she surveyed the young naval officer.

"You are a wretch, to intrude here!" cried the older woman.

"One must often do disagreeable things in the line of war duty," Darrin answered, gravely. "For one thing, I must place you both in arrest. Then I shall be obliged to have your cabin searched."

"Oh, if I but had a weapon!" cried the older woman.

"If you had, and were quick enough," Dave assured her, "you might succeed in killing me, but that would not affect our duty here, for there are other officers at hand. Madam, I perceive that you are fully dressed, so I must ask you to rise and leave this cabin, for a few minutes, at least."

"I shall not do it," she snapped.

"Then you will oblige me to call my men in, and they will remove you, using no unnecessary violence, you may be sure, yet employing force just the same."

"You coward!"

The younger woman, too, started in to berate him, but Dave remained calm.

"Will you, at least, not leave the room until I have risen?" demanded the older woman.

Darrin, who had a notion that the women wanted to conceal or destroy something, nodded his assent, but signed to two of the seamen to enter. Under his instructions they took the door off its hinges, carried it outside and laid it on the floor of the dining cabin.

"Now, ladies," Dave called, as he stepped outside, "you will be good enough to come out at once."

"We will come at our good convenience!" snapped the older woman.

"Wrong again. As I am discharging my duty here, you will necessarily come out at once. I shall not be patient if my instructions are defied."

Plainly furious that the door could not be closed, the younger woman assisted the older one to rise from the berth. Then, both expressing their resentment in their glances, the two women came out of the cabin.

"Mother and daughter," guessed Dave.

"Where will you have us sit, Brute?" demanded the younger woman.

"Take any seat in this dining cabin that you please," he replied. "You must sit together, and one of my men will stand before you."

Seats having been taken by the women, Darrin, calling one of the sailors to him, entered the little cabin. The only baggage there, beyond a hand satchel, appeared to be a locked steamer trunk under the lower berth.

"Take that outside," Dave directed. "It need not be investigated until we reach port."

Two dressing sacks and a few toilet articles were all the personal belongings that could be found there, though Darrin did not stop until he and the seaman had inspected pillows, mattresses and all other places that might have concealed papers or other little belongings.

Coming outside after some minutes Darrin asked:

"Ladies, do you wish to remain in the dining room, or will you go back to your sleeping cabin?"

"We will remain here for the present," replied the older woman. "If we wish to return to our own cabin later on we will do so."

"Wrong again," Dave informed her. "You must remain in one place. There can be no roaming about. This seaman who is your guard will see that you remain where you are for the present. I cannot permit you to leave this part of the dining room. Ladies, I regret being obliged to be so disagreeable, but I beg to assure you that your rights will be respected, and that you shall come to no harm if you obey instructions."

Then he looked into the other three cabins, but found them empty. With that Darrin left the dining room, after detailing another seaman to remain on duty there with the guard over the two women.

Darrin's next care was to inspect the holds. Here he found a cargo that appeared to consist of hundreds of cases of dried fish. At random he selected one of the cases, had it carried to the deck, and ordered that it be opened. Its contents proved to be dried fish.

"There is something worse than that on board, or the skipper would not have acted so much like a lunatic," Dave told himself.

Next inspecting the engine room and stoke hole he found these departments in order, though the fires under the boilers would soon need attention.

Going above, Dave called the stokers and engineers out from among the prisoners, told them that he intended to send them to their posts, and asked them if they would pledge themselves to obey all orders and bridge signals, and not attempt any treachery.

This promise was quickly given.

"I hope you will all keep your word," Dave added, firmly, "for, if any of you attempts treachery, he will be shot down where he stands. I shall post guards."

He posted two of his men in the engine-room, and four in the stoke-hole.

"Be vigilant, and don't stand any nonsense," he ordered.

Returning to deck he gave his final orders to Ensign Peters, who had come on board and relieved the boatswain's mate.

"We are going to take this ship through to our base port," he informed the ensign. "You will command, and will use the petty officers as you need them. I shall require but three of the launch crew to take me back to the 'Grigsby.' You have sufficient force here, Mr. Peters, but we shall stand by and so be ready to give any assistance you may need. Keep yourself informed as to the comfort and conduct of the women prisoners in the dining cabin, and do not permit them to be annoyed by your men. They must have no chance, though, to destroy or conceal any papers they may have on their persons."

With that Darrin went over the side. The launch took him back to his own craft.

Overhead the "blimp" moved slowly about. While her commander was sure he could reach England safely he preferred to remain in company that could rescue his crew and himself if it became necessary.

"Who can the women be?" Lieutenant Fernald wondered, when he had heard Dave's account of the visit to the steamship.

"I don't know. But their conduct, like the skipper's, is the main cause of their predicament. Had they behaved naturally I would have guessed them to be passengers from a neutral port to England. All I can say is that, though they speak English well, I am sure that they are not Englishwomen."

"The younger woman is a beauty, you say?"

"Yes, and her mother, if the older woman be such, is not at all unprepossessing."

The two ships and their aerial companion were now headed toward Darrin's base port, traveling at a good rate of speed.

It was well along in the evening when they passed the "Reed." In code Dalzell exultantly reported that an unusually large number of mines had been swept and removed from the water, and that two submarines had been located on the middle shoal and destroyed.

"Good work!" Dave wirelessed back.

Late that night, the "blimp" still leading the way, the destroyer and her prize entered the base port.

As soon as they had come to anchor Darrin communicated with the British flag-ship. Officials promptly went aboard the steamer to attend to the removal to a prison on shore of the officers and crew of the steamship, and of the women passengers as well.

Immediately after that the ship was subjected to a systematic search by seamen and longshoremen acting under the direction of British naval officers.

A name-plate, ready to fit to the front of the wheel-house, was found. The craft proved to be the "Louisa," well known in a certain British port at which she had been accustomed to call with cargoes of dried fish. The fish now on board was taken off rapidly into lighters. And then it was that, in a sub-hold under the cargo deck, a more significant cargo was found.

From that sub-hold were removed nearly six hundred floating mines of the commonest German pattern. All had been packed with extreme care, and all were ready for transferring to German submarine mine-layers at sea.

It was after two in the morning when Captain Allaire, an officer of the British military intelligence department, came on board the "Grigsby," requesting that her commander be called. Dave received Captain Allaire in the chart-room. Allaire had come to seek information as to the speech and conduct of the two women at the time of their arrest.

Dave answered these questions carefully, then added:

"I shall be glad, indeed, if I brought in women prisoners of real importance along with the other prisoners."

"There are very few pairs whom we would rather have in our prisons," answered Captain Allaire. "The older woman is the notorious Sophia Weiner; the younger is her daughter, Anna Weiner. They use various other names, though. Every intelligence and secret service officer in Great Britain knows of their exploits, and is ever on the lookout for them."

"Then I am astonished that they should have embarked on a steamship bound for England," Dave returned. "They must have faced certain arrest on landing."

"I don't believe they intended coming to England," Allaire answered. "Probably they were on their way to Spain. It may have been that no German submarine was leaving for the Spanish coast just at the time, and it was imperative that they reach Spain early. So, I take it, they journeyed to the neutral country and embarked on the 'Louisa,' knowing that the skipper could transfer them to a submarine bound for Spain. We are amazed at this fellow, Hadkor, skipper of the 'Louisa.' We had believed him to be all right, and he had ready access to our ports with his cargoes. But his ship has been found to be fitted with all facilities for transferring mines at sea, and also with an anti-aircraft gun and a stock of rifles and ammunition. The work must have been excellently paid for by the Germans, for the crew were assuredly in the secret, and ready even to fight, and they surely had to be paid for their risks."

"Then it was a very important catch that the 'blimp' ran us into."

"One of the best in a six-month," replied Captain Allaire. "And yet that skipper fellow and his crew must be lunatics, for their conduct lays them liable to being hanged as pirates."

When the "Grigsby" put out to sea before daylight Dave Darrin lay asleep. He slept extremely well, too, in the consciousness of a day's duties well done.

XX. Darrin Turns the Tables

Both commanding officers were asleep when the "Grigsby" and the "Reed" passed each other that morning, the "Grigsby" proceeding on to her station.

Dave would have gone back on the same water route he had hunted over the day before, but the dirigible, which had reached England safely, had not yet been put in shape for further service, and there was at present no other dirigible that could be spared for his service.

Therefore it was a matter of back to the shoals for temporary duty, yet of a kind that was very important.

At ten o'clock he was called, as that was the hour he had named for relieving Lieutenant Fernald.

The executive officer had come into the chart-room to call him, and remained while Darrin performed his hasty toilet.

"What's the weather?" Darrin asked.

"Misty, sir," replied the executive officer. "There's a fine drizzle, mixed with some fog. For the last half hour it has been impossible to see more than six hundred yards. That is why we are running at half speed. We're close to the middle shoal and I was afraid we'd run down one of our own mine-sweepers."

"The kind of weather every ship's master dreads," Dave remarked.

"Yes, sir, and the weather bites you through to the marrow. The temperature isn't very low, but I think you'll find yourself more comfortable if you dress warmly. I found it so cold as to be necessary to wear the sheepskin under my heaviest rain-coat."

In finishing his dressing Darrin bore this suggestion in mind. In a few minutes he stepped out on deck. The weather proved to be as unpleasant as Fernald had asserted, and Dave was glad that he was warmly clad, for the wind, though not strong, was piercing.

"Sighted any mine-sweeper on the shoal?" Dave asked of Ensign Ormsby, the watch officer, as soon as he reached the deck.

"Only on the first shoal, which is in the 'Reed's' station, sir," Mr. Ormsby replied. "Those belonging to our station must be farther north. And we've sighted none out in deeper water. We couldn't in this thick weather, anyway."

"The view is so limited that this doesn't look like a promising day for us," Dave mused aloud, as he gazed around at as much of the water as he could see.

"It really doesn't, sir."

"Better reduce to one-quarter speed. The less speed the less chance there will be of the enemy hearing us."

Accordingly the "Grigsby" rolled along slowly, the splash and ripple of the water along her sides being a soothing accompaniment.

For an hour they proceeded thus, without sighting a ship. They had passed the middle shoal, and were somewhat north of it when the two officers on the bridge observed that the sun was struggling feebly through the clouds and mist. A minute later, as if by magic, it burst out brightly, and the mist began to fade away.

"By Jove, sir, look at that!" almost whispered Ensign Ormsby.

Some seven hundred yards away from them, motionless on the water, her deck fully exposed, lay a submarine.

Neither deck gun was above decks. At least a dozen of the crew stood near the conning tower, and, of all things in the world, fishing.

"Quick work, there!" Dave called through the bridge telephone to the gunners forward. "Let number one gun send a shell over the craft. Don't hit her at the first shot. We'll capture that fellow, if possible!"

So quickly did the shot come that it was the first intimation the German seamen had of enemy presence.

From aloft the signal broke out:

"Don't try to fire a shot, or to turn, or we'll sink you!"

An officer's head popped up through the manhole of the conning tower, then almost as quickly was withdrawn.

As the "Grigsby," obeying her engines, leaped forward, the men behind both forward guns stood ready to fire at the word.

For the submarine crew to bring either gun into place would be the signal for the destroyer to open fire at a range constantly decreasing. Nor could the enemy craft employ her torpedo tubes without turning, which would have been instant signal for Darrin to order his gunners to fire on the submarine.

Through the manhole of the enemy craft leaped a signalman, flags in hand. Using the international code he wigwagged rapidly this message:

"We will make a grace of necessity and surrender."

"That doesn't necessarily mean that they do surrender," Dave 'phoned to the officer in charge of the forward gun division. "If the enemy makes a move to bring a gun into view, or to swing so that a torpedo tube could be used, fire without order and fire to sink!"

The German commander evidently understood that this would be the course of the Yankees, for as the "Grigsby" bore down upon the submarine not a threatening move was visible.

Instead, the Hun crew, unarmed so far as the watchers on the destroyer could see, emerged from the conning tower and moved well up forward.

"Prepare to lower two boats," Dave called, and added instructions for a large crew for each launch. As the "Grigsby" came about and lay to, the launches were lowered. In the bow of each small craft was mounted a machine gun ready for instant action. The double prize crew was permitted to board the submarine without sign of opposition. At the command, German seamen began to file past two petty officers, submitting to search for hidden weapons, then passing on into the launches alongside.

Last of all four officers came through the manhole, preparatory to enduring the same search. When all the prisoners had been taken aboard, the launches started back to the "Grigsby."

Dave Darrin caught sight of the officers, as the launches approached the destroyer, and felt like rubbing his eyes.

"The ober-lieutenant and von Schelling!" he exclaimed with a start. "They haven't recognized me yet. When they do that ober-lieutenant is going to wish that he had voted for going to the bottom of the sea!"

Not, indeed, until the officers came up over the side of the "Grigsby," and found Dave Darrin waiting on the deck, did the quartette of officers discover who their captor was.

"You?" gasped the ober-lieutenant! "Impossible!"

"Yes; you didn't expect to see me again, did you?"

"I—I—I thought you were——"

The German checked himself.

"You thought you had sent me to the bottom of the sea," Dave went on. "It wasn't your fault that you didn't, but you missed your guess."

Dave then gave the order for housing the prisoners below.

"Are you sending the officers to the same place of detention that you are sending my men?" demanded the ober-lieutenant, a spark of assertiveness in his manner.

"Unfortunately, I am obliged to do so," Dave answered. "I am aware that German officers consider themselves to be of a brand of clay much superior to that used in making their men."

"But we officers are gentlemen!" retorted the ober-lieutenant, drawing himself up stiffly.

"It's a point that might be argued," returned Darrin, lightly. "Yet there is no other course, for we have no detention space apart from the main one on board, so it is the only place that we can use for confining German officers—and gentlemen."

"May I request the privilege of a few words with you before you send me below?" requested the ober-lieutenant, unbending a trifle.

"Certainly," Dave assured him, and the guard that was marshaling the prisoners below permitted the recent German commander to step out of the line.

"I will see you in my chart-room," said Dave. Lieutenant Fernald, who had been standing by, caught Dave's signal and entered with his chief.

Once inside Ober-Lieutenant Dreiner turned and gazed at Fernald.

"I had expected a private interview, Herr Darrin," he said, rather stiffly.

"Lieutenant Fernald is my executive officer, and nothing goes on board with which he is not familiar," Darrin replied. "Have a seat, Herr Ober-Lieutenant."

"And must I speak before—before your subordinate?" asked the German, as he dropped into the chair that had been indicated.

"If you speak at all," Darrin answered.

"But will Herr Fernald keep inviolate what I have to say?"

"In that," Darrin promised, "he will be governed by circumstances."

Dreiner hesitated for a few seconds before he began:

"I—I—er—I have to refer to an incident that followed our last words together on a former occasion."

"You mean, of course, the time, when you assembled on the deck of your craft four prisoners, of whom I was one, then closed your manhole and submerged, leaving us floundering in the water, and, as you expected, to die by drowning?"

"I have not admitted that any such thing took place," Herr Dreiner cried, hastily, with a side glance at Lieutenant Fernald.

"It will make no difference, Herr Dreiner, whether you admit or deny that inhuman attempt to murder four helpless prisoners," Dave rejoined. "It so happened that all four of us kept alive until rescued, and we are all four ready, at any time, to appear against you. So there is no use in evasion."

"Then you intend to bring the charge against me?" asked Dreiner, in a voice husky with either emotion or dread.

"I can make neither promises nor threats as to that," Darrin countered.

"The stern British military courts would sentence me to death on that charge."

"Probably," Dave agreed.

"And I have a very particular reason for wanting to live," Dreiner went on.

"Yes?"

"I have eight young children at home, and their sole dependence is on what I earn," the German continued. "I do not mind dying, for myself, but in that event what will become of my poor little children?"

"You Germans fill me with disgust!" Dave Darrin exclaimed, rising, as though to terminate the interview. "It seems to be a rule with you fellows, when you find yourselves facing death, to whine about the children you must leave behind to starve. Before you set out to murder me in an especially brutal manner, did you take the trouble to ask me whether I had any children who would starve? Did you ask Mr. and Mrs. Launce whether they had children that were not provided for? And what about that honest old sea-dog, Captain Kennor? Did you pause to inquire whether he was leaving hungry children behind? For that matter, have any of you wild beasts on German submarines ever worried yourselves about the families you orphaned by your inhuman crimes at sea? Even in the case of the 'Lusitania,' did that submarine commander ask himself, or any one else, what would happen to the women and children who were pitched into the sea? You are wild to murder innocent, harmless people belonging to an enemy nation, yet when you yourselves are brought face to face with death you are all alike. You whine! You beg! Dreiner, you are not man enough to play the game! Your appeal in the name of your eight children, who, for that matter, may not even exist, falls on deaf ears when you address me. I hope that you will be summoned before a British court and that you may be sentenced to pay the full penalty for your crimes!"

Dreiner's face went ashen-gray as he staggered to his feet. Probably he really was concerned for the fate of his children, but his was not the sort of record that invited pity.

"I will not detain you here," Dave finished coldly. "If I did, I might be tempted to abuse a prisoner, and that is something no American fighting man can really do. Orderly!"

As the orderly stepped in, saluting, Dreiner tried a last appeal:

"Why do you hate us Germans so?" he whined. "I know that you do not hate me especially, but that you hate all of our race!"

"Why do we hate you?" Darrin echoed. "The reason is that, from all we hear, fellows like yourself appear to be fair samples of the German officer, on land and afloat. If that does not answer your question fully, I can think of other reasons to give you. I would rather not, for it brings me perilously close to the offense of abusing a prisoner, and that I do not wish to do. Orderly, call two men and instruct them to take Ober-Lieutenant Dreiner below to join the other prisoners."

As the German stepped past the Yankee commander he glared into Dave's face, hissing:

"To-day it is your chance to humiliate and condemn a German. It may not be long ere your turn comes, and a German officer tells you what your end is to be!"

"I am ever at Fate's orders," Darrin answered, with a bow.

XXI. On a Mission of Great Trust

When the "Grigsby," in broad daylight, steamed into the base port with a captured submarine and her crew, and a German commanding officer who was liable for a dastardly crime at sea, there was great rejoicing both on the other naval vessels and on shore.

If the German prisoners expected a stormy reception when they were landed and placed under a guard of soldiers, they were disappointed, for nothing of the sort awaited them.

The British populace, though it turned out to see the captives marched through the streets, proved to be too good sportsmen to make a violent demonstration against their now helpless enemies.

Darrin had no sooner turned over the prize and made his report to the British admiral than he was ready for sea once more.

"Mr. Darrin," said the admiral, heartily, "when you went out the other day you promised to show me results. I take this opportunity to assure you that you have. You yourself have made some notable captures, and have destroyed some enemies whom you could not capture. Mr. Dalzell's record has also been a splendid one. The plan by which you are catching mine-layers on or near the shoals before they start out on new mine-laying work is one that has enabled our mine-sweeping craft to accomplish more than they have hitherto been able to do. The record of mines discovered and swept out of the paths of navigation is a fine one, but you have done even better work in blocking the enemy so thoroughly in their operation of laying the mines in the first instance. Your successes are assuming extremely notable proportions. To-morrow the dirigible will be ready to start out again to aid in finding mine-cargo-carrying submarines bound for these waters."

"Sir," Dave replied, "I greatly appreciate your words of praise, and I can speak in the same vein for Mr. Dalzell. Now, as he has had no share in destroying the submarines that bring over cargoes of mines I intend to detail him for that work to-morrow."

"That fits in with my plans," nodded the admiral. "If you will put to sea and find the 'Reed,' and then return to this port, dropping anchor, but keeping up steam, I shall have for you, to-night or to-morrow, a special task of the greatest importance."

"Very good, sir. Is that all for the present?"

"Yes. Your further instructions will be given to you when the time comes."

"Very good, sir. Thank you."

Saluting, Darrin left the flagship, returning at once to the "Grigsby," which soon put to sea. The weather being now comparatively clear, Darrin raced away at nearly full speed. Not long afterward he overhauled and boarded the "Reed," informing Dalzell of his chance to go on the hunt for the submarine mine-carrying craft on the morrow.

"I had been wondering if I was to have a little share in that sport of kings," said Dan, with one of his grins.

"You prevaricator!" Darrin uttered, sternly. "When did I ever hog all of the best sport and leave you the rind?"

"Kamerad! Don't shoot!" begged Dan, with another grin.

"Kamerad" (comrade) is the word the German soldiers employ when offering to surrender to Allied troops. But "Kamerad" does not always mean as much as it conveys, for instances have been numerous when Germans have pretended so to surrender, then have whipped out hitherto hidden weapons and slain their captors.

Returning to port before dark, Darrin put in that night in catching up with his sleep. He slumbered almost without stirring, for it had been long since he had enjoyed more than a part of his needed rest at sea.

Officers and men, too, made the most of their opportunity to sleep that night. Only one officer at a time kept deck watch, and only one engineer officer down below. The "Grigsby" was ready to put to sea almost on an instant's notice from the flagship, but no word came.

Fully refreshed, and in the best of condition, Dave Darrin enjoyed a famously good breakfast the next morning, as did every officer and man on the destroyer. Still the orders for special duty had not arrived, and Dave was beginning to chafe under the delay.

"If it were the first of April I might suspect the bluff old admiral were playing a joke on us," Dave confided to Lieutenant Fernald. "I might think this was his way of affording us all a chance to get even with our rest. I am wondering much what the special duty is to be."

"You will know, sir, in the same breath that you are ordered away to that duty," smiled the executive officer.

"Yes, this is war-time and advance information is very rare," Darrin admitted.

It was, in fact, nearly eleven o'clock when a man of the deck watch reported that a boat had put off from the flagship and was apparently heading for the "Grigsby."

"I'll go out to receive the visitor," said Fernald, rising and leaving the chart-room.

The boat was, indeed, heading for the destroyer. It soon came alongside, bringing a staff officer from the admiral. Lieutenant Fernald received the visitor, conducted him to the chart-room, presented the officer caller to Dave, then discreetly withdrew.

"The admiral's compliments, Mr. Darrin. He spoke to you yesterday of special duty of a most important nature. I have the honor to bear his final instructions."

"Then you are doubly welcome," smiled Dave, "for we have been chafing a bit, fearing that the admiral's plans might have been changed."

"There has been considerable activity on the part of German submarines in these waters of late," continued the British naval staff officer. "As a rule the Huns keep out of the channel, but they have been so active lately that we fear for the safety of the hospital ship 'Gloucester,' which is bringing home about two thousand wounded men. It was the admiral's plan to have you leave port, under full speed, an hour before the sailing time of the 'Gloucester' from France."

"Is there still time for us to get that hour's start?" asked Darrin, rising.

"Unfortunately, the orders were misunderstood, Mr. Darrin. The 'Gloucester' actually sailed about an hour ago. You will find her exact course written on this paper, and you are directed by the admiral to reach her with all speed and convoy her——"

"One moment, please!"

Darrin broke off the conversation long enough to telephone the executive officer, instructing him to transmit the needful orders to the engineer officer on duty, and to pipe all hands on deck.

"I am listening, sir," Darrin resumed, wheeling about.

"Outside you will find two of our fastest mine-sweepers," continued the staff officer. "They are to follow you as closely as possible, and, on nearing the 'Gloucester,' they are to turn and sweep the course ahead of the hospital ship, while you are to be extremely alert for submarines."

"I understand, sir," Darrin nodded. "Are there any further orders?"

"No, Mr. Darrin. Whatever else comes up must be left to your own discretion to handle. The admiral bade me state that he has the fullest confidence in your proven ability to handle circumstances as they arise."

"My thanks to the admiral for his good opinion, and to yourself for informing me of it," smiled Dave, still on his feet and moving slowly toward the door.

"I—er—have some further information, Mr. Darrin, that will prove of considerable interest to you," resumed the naval staff officer, also moving toward the door.

"Yes?"

"It possesses a personal interest for you. There are, of course, nurses on board, and other Red Cross workers. One of them is Mrs. Darrin."

Dave's quick smile of happiness was reflected in the staff officer's ruddy face.

"So, you see, Mr. Darrin, you have more than a professional interest in meeting the hospital ship and bringing her through safely, for in doing so you will also be guarding your wife. It is rather an unusual stimulus to duty, isn't it?"

XXII. The Red Cross Tragedy

"No, sir!" said Dave, promptly. "I love my wife, and it will not surprise you to hear me say it, but in the discharge of my duty Mrs. Darrin has exactly the same status as a stranger. I shall be glad, for my own sake, to bring through in safety any ship on which she sails, but I shall be just as glad to be able to insure the safety of any wounded Tommy Atkins on the 'Gloucester' who is longing for a sight of his loved ones at home."

"By Jove, that's a bully attitude, and I know you mean it!" cried the staff officer, holding out his hand. "I must not delay you. Good-bye, Darrin, and the best of good luck to you!"

A moment later the British officer was over the side and being borne back to the flagship, while quick orders rang out on the "Grigsby." In as short a time as the thing could be done the anchor was stowed, and the destroyer was on her way out of port at half speed.

Just beyond the harbor Darrin gave the order for full speed ahead. From the bridge, three miles farther out on the course, he made out the two mine-sweepers.

"All starts well," commented Dave to Lieutenant Fernald. "May all end as well! By the way, Mrs. Darrin is said to be on board the 'Gloucester'."

"Congratulations," said Fernald, heartily. "And you may look, sir, for every officer and man aboard this craft to redouble his efforts to make the day's task a complete success."

"I don't want it for that reason, although I expect from all on board the fullest efficiency. Fernald, I'm not running an American naval vessel primarily for the safety of my family."

For this trip the lookouts were trebled. They stood at every point of vantage from which anything on the sea might be sighted.

Mile after mile the "Grigsby" logged, plunging and dipping in the sea, her decks running water and spray dashing continuously over the bridge. It was wet work, and over all was the roaring racket of the ship's powerful machinery. To Darrin it was music; the dash and the sense of responsibility thrilled him.

At last came the anxiously awaited hail from the lookout aloft:

"Topmasts of a ship almost dead ahead, sir."

"Keep her constantly in sight, and as soon as you can make out the hull report whether she displays the hospital Red Cross," the watch officer called back.

"Aye, aye, sir."

To those on the bridge the mastheads were soon visible. After that came the lookout's hail:

"She's a hospital ship, sir. I can make out the Red Cross plainly through the glass."

"It must be the 'Gloucester,' then," remarked Lieutenant Fernald.

"Pass the word that the first man really to sight a periscope or a conning tower shall have a fortnight's shore leave extra," Dave ordered.

He smiled as he heard the scattering cheer that greeted that announcement.

"The real way to the sailorman's heart lies through extra shore leave," he told Fernald.

"I wouldn't mind winning that prize myself," muttered the executive officer. "That is, if I were sure that I could honestly accept the leave without prejudice to duty."

"Find the periscope, then," smiled Darrin. "I am sure I can win the promised reward, even for the executive officer."

Not long afterward they were in plain sight of the "Gloucester." On she came, the smoke pouring from her pair of funnels. A fast craft, the hospital ship was making about her best time in her hurry to get safely across with her precious human cargo.

Then the "Grigsby" swung far out to port, cut a part of a circle, and came back on the hospital ship's port bow, darting ahead again, cutting across the hospital ship's bow far ahead and to port, then turning and crossing once more.

After the two craft had proceeded some distance farther the two mine-sweepers were sighted well ahead. These craft would soon turn and sweep the waters for mines ahead of the hospital ship.

Not mere fancy capers was the "Grigsby" cutting. As she crossed the "Gloucester's" bows time and again her lookouts were able to keep sharp watch to port and starboard of the ship that bore a human cargo of pain and suffering. It was the only way for a solitary destroyer to keep effective watch on both sides of the ship she was convoying.

Twice Dave used his glass to glance along the nearer rail of the steamship in search of Belle Darrin. He did not find her thus, and did not try again, for he must not fail in his unceasing watch for the ship's safety.

The mine-sweepers signalled their message of greeting, then turned and swung into place. From this point the "Gloucester" and her escort slowed down speed to accommodate that of the smaller craft.

The vessel wearing the emblem of the Red Cross had not yet reached the spot at which the sweepers had turned.

Over the sea came a sullen, significant roar. The "Gloucester" shivered from stem to stern. A wail of anguish went up in concert from the soldiers on board the hospital ship who were worst wounded.

It had come so suddenly that, for an instant, Dave Darrin was dazed.

"That wasn't a torpedo!" he cried, hoarsely, a second or two later.

"She hit a mine, sir," reported Lieutenant Fernald. "It wasn't the fault of the sweepers, either, for they hadn't time to get that far. But it's awful—awful! There'll be hundreds of the poor fellows drowned!"

Dave quickly recovered his presence of mind. As the "Gloucester" shut off speed Darrin turned and dashed at full speed to the aid of the stricken craft.

Even as the race of rescue began Darrin sent to the radio operator this message to send broadcast through the air:

"S. O. S.! Hospital ship 'Gloucester' has struck mine and must founder soon. Rush at best speed to give aid. S. O. S.!"

In the message Darrin included also the exact position of the stricken vessel.

Two launches were swung outward on the davits. Darrin sprang down to the deck to personally select the men to man the launches. Into the launches were thrown several rolls of heavy canvas and rolls of cordage, as well as such tools as might be needed.

By the time that the "Grigsby" had shut off speed and lain to, the decks of the "Gloucester" were observed to be crowded with people.

The two launches, with Dave Darrin in one of them, shoved off and were quickly alongside the hospital ship. Two ship's ladders were let down over the side. Up these went the two boarding parties as rapidly as they could move. Lines came swirling down, and canvas rolls and other supplies were hoisted to the deck. This work was all quickly done.

Not a second must be lost. Dave ordered Ensign Peters and several men forward to the bow of the hospital ship. With the remainder, Dave, carrying a roll of canvas over one shoulder, and all hands carrying some burden, started to go below.

With a group of Red Cross nurses who stood silently and calmly by the patients who were being borne to the deck, Darrin was sure that he caught sight of Belle.

But he did not look a second time. There was too much to be done now when seconds were precious. Nor did Belle look up from the work that she was doing among the wounded on stretchers.

A member of the crew led the American party below. Here Dave found two mates and a score of sailors already at work. They were trying to accomplish the very thing Darrin had come prepared to do—to rig canvas over the hole in the hull to shut out as much of the water as was possible.

If this could be accomplished, and if the "Gloucester's" pumps could drive out most of the water that got in past the canvas patch, then it might be possible for the hospital ship to keep afloat until other rescue craft could reach the scene.

"We'll take your orders, sir," spoke up one of the mates, saluting, as Dave and his party reached a forward hold where, despite the flimsy canvas patch already rigged, the water was almost waist-deep.

"We'll work together," returned Dave, briefly. "It may turn out that the ship can be kept afloat for an hour or two."

"The bulkheads were shut, sir," the mate explained, hurriedly, "but fragments of the mine entered this first water-tight compartment, and also the second. You'd better go down into the second compartment, too, sir."

Darrin hurried up to the deck, followed by the mates and their men. The hole in the first compartment extended some six inches below water line and some two feet above. It was a long, jagged hole. Trying to descend into the second compartment with the chief mate, Darrin found that the hole here extended at least a foot below water line.

"It's going to be no use, sir," said the mate, sorrowfully. "I don't believe the ship can be kept afloat more than ten minutes before she goes down by the head. These are our two biggest compartments."

XXIII. A Noble Fight Without Weapons

Nor was the mate's warning a panicky one. There seemed not one chance in a hundred of closing the gaps sufficiently to keep the hospital ship afloat long enough to save many of its wounded passengers.

Dave had made his plans while coming alongside. By this time the repair material he had brought along lay on the deck. He called his own men to help him, and the chief officer sent two score more of British seamen to his aid.

The engine-room fires being as yet untouched by water, the pumps were working with tremendous force.

"Unroll that canvas, there. Run it out lively," Darrin ordered.

In a twinkling the first patch was ready. Dave himself helped with weighting what was intended for the lower edge of the patch, and with reeving in ropes at the sides and top.

"Over with it!"

Lowered down into place, the patch was fitted to the hole. It still had to be made fast.

Both port and starboard gangways had been lowered, and launches from the destroyer were alongside, receiving badly wounded men who had been taken over the side on stretchers. The "Grigsby's" cutters were also alongside, picking up such of the wounded men as could jump in life belts. The "Gloucester's" own boats swung out after being loaded. The mine-sweepers had come up and had lowered their boats and sent them to the rescue. Several hundred men and women were reasonably sure of being saved, but unless Darrin succeeded in what he was undertaking, from twelve to fifteen hundred other human beings were surely doomed.

Badly as boats were needed, Dave had to commandeer two of the smallest. Himself going in one of these, he superintended the making fast of the canvas patches below from the water. Seamen over the hull's side in slings, acting under the second mate, did valiant service at the same time.

With a single outside canvas patch over the forward hole, Darrin moved back to the second breach. Here, too, a patch was quickly put in place.

By this time the "Grigsby" and the mine-sweepers had received nearly as many rescued passengers as they could hold. The small boats were returning for more.

Up to Dave rushed Captain Senby of the "Gloucester."

"Captain," he called, addressing Dave Darrin by that courtesy title, "these Red Cross women ought to be saved while there's time, but they refuse to go over the side until their patients are safe."

"Did you expect they would desert their patients?" Darrin asked quietly, his gaze still on the work that he was directing.

"But, Captain, we must save the women folks, anyway! Won't you use your persuasion to help me?"

"No," came Dave's quick response. "These women are asserting their right to prove the stuff that is in them. In this war, in their own fields, the women fight as bravely as the men."

"In a time like this the women ought to be saved!" the British master insisted.

"Not at the expense of their best sense of duty," Darrin answered.

For an instant Senby regarded the young naval officer with amazement before he blurted:

"Captain, I don't believe you have any women folks of your own!"

"My wife is one of the Red Cross women on board," Darrin answered, quietly. Then, raising his voice, he added:

"That patch is ready! Over with it!"

Thus was the second patch fitted over the forward hole, and men were busy completing another for the second hole.

And now with the small boats filled, Darrin anxiously surveyed the sea. No ships were yet in sight.

"Get more patches ready!" he shouted.

He then descended to the first compartment, stepping down into the water to take its depth. He judged it to be of about the same depth as before.

Four patches were over each hole by the time that the first trail of smoke was observed far down on the horizon. A steamship was coming to their aid, but would it arrive in time?

Another inspection showed that the pumps had made a slight gain on the water. It was going out of the compartments faster than it could get in past the canvas. But Dave knew that ship pumps, working to furious capacity, were likely to give out at any moment.

He stationed a seaman with lead and line on the stairs leading down to each compartment, with instructions to take frequent soundings and to report sharply to the deck.

The "Gloucester's" rafts, too, were now overboard. On these huddled those of the wounded or convalescing soldiers who were better able to take care of themselves.

But not a single Red Cross woman had yet gone over the side. Much as some of the wounded might need attendance on the rescue craft or in the small boats, those left helpless behind needed the women of mercy still more!

A slow gain was still being made on the water in the two compartments. If the pumps held out, and if the patches did not give way, there might yet be a fair chance to save life. But Dave knew the dangers that confronted all hands left behind, even when he could make out the hull of the oncoming steamship, and saw that she was moving at fullest speed.

"We should win out, don't you think?" demanded Captain Senby, anxiously. "I've never lost a ship."

"At least we stand a fair chance to win out," Dave answered, frankly. "Any one of three or four things might happen to us yet and send us to the bottom."

Darrin spent most of his time inspecting the canvas patches. Between times he anxiously watched the relief ship. He could see, by glass, when she was four miles away, that her davits were swung out and her boat-crews in place.

"All depends on how we hold together for the next half or three-quarters of an hour," he told Captain Senby.

There were still some two hundred patients who would have to be moved on stretchers. These were brought to the upper deck until the stretchers all but blocked passage.

What a cheer went up from those at the rail as the steamship, an Italian craft, lay to and began to lower her boats! The small boats from the hospital ship, the "Grigsby" and the mine-sweepers had already gone forward to meet her. As fast as they could move in to either side gangway these boats discharged their temporary passengers, then quickly returned to the "Gloucester."

For an hour all the small boats plied back and forth, the rescuers using all their nerve and muscle power in their efforts at speed.

Shivering, for he was drenched up to the waist, Dave stood by, receiving the reports of the leadsmen in the two compartments. The best work of the canvas patches had been done. They were slowly yielding to the fearful pressure of the water without and it was impossible to rig additional, fresh patches over them. The water was rising, inch by inch, in both compartments.

"How long do you think we can keep afloat?" asked Captain Senby, miserably.

"Your judgment will be as good as mine, sir," Dave answered. "It is impossible to name the number of moments we can hope to keep above water, but we both know it cannot be for long."

At last the decks were cleared of litters. There were no more to be brought out. The last boats had taken away many besides the stretcher patients.

"Give us ten minutes more," said Darrin, as he watched the boats discharging at the Italian steamer, and returning, "and we shall all be safe."

"They will be the longest, most anxious ten minutes that I ever lived!" sighed Captain Senby.

"Man, you're white and you look ill," Dave cried. "Buck up! You've done splendidly, and the discipline on board has been perfect. You have nothing with which to reproach yourself."

"Do you really think so?" Senby asked, with a wan smile. "I thank you, but it seems to me I should have done better."

"You could do better than you're doing now, for you've lost your nerve," Darrin warned him, in a low voice. "Yet while you needed your nerve you kept it."

"You won't mind saying that in your report, will you?" asked the master, eagerly. "I'd hate to have my family hear anything that would make them feel I had broken down."

"The discipline on this ship shows what you have done," Dave rejoined. "You're suffering, now, on account of the people who may be lost, and you're thinking of the Red Cross women who are stubborn enough to do their duty like men. But you've trained your crew well, you have the respect of your officers and men, and you've given all help possible in the shortest amount of time. A ship's master can be judged, instantly, by the discipline that prevails on his craft. Your family will hear nothing about your conduct that won't please 'em."

At this the British master "bucked up" wonderfully, but he still watched the Red Cross women with wistful eyes.

"Here are the first boats coming back to take the last of us off," Darrin said encouragingly. "Now, clear all hands off lively."

"The women first?" almost pleaded Captain Senby.

"Of course!" Dave nodded. "They've done their full duty, and done it splendidly. Now, insist."

Galvanized into action by these cheering words, Captain Senby cleared his throat, then roared in a fog-horn voice:

"All hands stand by to abandon ship! Be lively, please, ladies. No man stir over the side until the last woman has gone over!"

Some of the Red Cross women smilingly obeyed the order; others hung back.

"There are still some wounded men on board," pleaded one of them. "Let the last wounded man go over the side, then we'll go."

"I'll kill any man on this deck who tries to go over until the last woman is taken care of!" shouted Senby, drawing a revolver.

Some of the nurses still demurred, but the master was obdurate.

"Ladies," he called out, "this craft can't keep afloat much longer. Those of you who hang back keep the men from their last chance to get away. I tell you, and I mean it, that no man stirs over the side until the last woman is on her way to a boat. Don't hold us all back, ladies!"

That swept aside the last reluctance of the nurses. They trooped forward, to one side gangway or the other, and were quickly on their way into the waiting boats.

One of them, however, drew back, then smiled and crossed the deck.

"I shall remain with you, Dave," announced a clear, firm voice, and Dave turned to find Belle's steady hand resting on his arm.

"Are you going over the side, madam?" inquired Captain Senby, pleadingly.

"You must make an exception in my case, sir," Belle Darrin answered smilingly. "I can hardly be expected to leave my husband at a time like this."

"Oh!" gasped the Briton, understandingly. "Madam, you make me anxious, but your devotion makes me proud of your sex!"

"Men, now!" shouted the Briton when he saw the last skirt flutter at the top of a companionway.

"Now, you'll go over the side, sir, won't you?" asked the master, anxiously, as two orderly files of men stepped to the sides.

"As the two commanders here," Dave answered, easily, "I believe that tradition requires you and me to go over last of all, Captain Senby."

"But your wife, sir——"

"Is an American, Captain, who has taken the oath of service to her country's flag just as you and I have done."

"But, madam, you——" began the Briton, turning to Belle.

"My husband has spoken, sir," smiled Belle. "Surely, Captain Senby, you do not believe in mutiny."

The soldier patients who had remained behind when the nurses went over the side were all men who could walk without assistance. These were now going over, too. While this was going on the chief mate and the boatswain had mustered the last of the crew and the roll had been called. All were on hand who were not in the small boats.

After the soldiers and the hospital men had gone down into boats, and other small craft had moved in to replace them, the crew went over, the chief mate being the last to go except the trio who stood in the middle of the upper deck.

"There's a boat left with room for all of you!" the mate called, lifting his hat.

With a last swift look around at the ship he had loved, the Briton almost reluctantly followed the Darrins. His legs trembled under him a bit as he descended the steps of the side companionway, but it was from neither exhaustion nor fear.

Last of all the Briton took his seat in the row-boat. He tried to clear his throat and give the order, but could not speak.

"Shove off!" called Dave to the boat-tenders, as he faced the men sitting with their oars out. "Give way! One, two, one two!"

The boat belonged to one of the mine-sweepers. With true British precision and rhythm the men pulled away. Darrin ceased counting and turned to his smiling wife.

"Not such a bad time, was it?" he asked.

"As it turned out, no. But I was afraid, Dave. Had a few hundred of the brave fellows been drowned, the horror would not have left me as long as I lived."

"Then you must steel your nerves a bit, Belle, dear. War, at the least, is a grewsome thing, but this war contains more horrors than any other war of which man has knowledge. The vast numbers engaged make it certain that the losses will be heavy, and heavier, until the struggle is over. If you work up near the front, within range of the big guns, you will necessarily have to become accustomed to seeing the visible evidence of huge losses daily."

"I shall grow to it," Belle Darrin declared, confidently.

And now Captain Senby was speaking to him.

"It's a great load off my mind, Captain Darrin. I was the merchant marine master of the 'Gloucester,' but she was taken and refitted so quickly that we were sent to sea without change of status. On our return from this voyage the mates and I had orders to take examination for commissions in the naval reserves. Then we were to continue aboard the 'Gloucester.' But she will be at the bottom in an hour and my chances of making the naval reserves will go down with her."

"I don't see why," Dave returned, heartily. "You and your mates are no less capable than you were."

Then, in an undertone that reached only Senby's ear, Darrin added:

"Man, you've been a bit unstrung, but you've gotten away without the loss of a life. Bring your nerve back from this moment! Don't let it spoil your life or your career. Pull yourself together and smile. Smile! Don't let any one see that you've a single doubt of yourself! Smile, and go up for your examination to-morrow. All that ails you is that you worry for the safety of others—a most commendable fault in a skipper!"

From that instant Captain Senby gave at least a very good imitation of a man who was modestly satisfied with his achievement, though he realized that he owed most of the success of the last two hours to Lieutenant Commander Dave Darrin, U. S. N.

Arriving at the Italian vessel, Darrin transferred Belle and himself to a launch from the "Grigsby" and promptly rejoined his craft.

Taking Belle to his own seldom-occupied quarters on the destroyer, Dave left her there, and then went to the bridge and signalled his orders to the mine-sweepers and to the Italian steamship.

The mine-sweepers were ordered to move in advance of the rescue vessel to sweep any hidden mine from her path.

"And you, Mr. Fernald, will cross the course continually ahead of the steamship and keep the most vigilant guard against submarine attack!"

Dave next went to the chart-room, his teeth chattering from his soaked, chilled condition.

Here he stripped and gave himself as vigorous a rub-down as he could administer, after which he attired himself in dry clothing throughout and sent orders to the mess kitchen for a pot of hot coffee.

Over this warmer Dave lingered long enough to gulp down three cups of the steaming beverage.

Then pulling on a dry sheepskin coat and turning up the fur collar against the wintry blast, he went to the bridge.

"All's secure, and no sign of trouble so far, sir," reported Lieutenant Fernald.

Yet, unknown to any on the destroyer, the "Grigsby," driving ahead obliquely from port to starboard well ahead of the steamship, was heading straight toward a mine that lurked beneath the surface of the water.

XXIV. Conclusion

"Shall I order the helm to starboard, sir?" asked Ensign Ormsby. "We're due to sail too close to that mine-sweeper."

Though the two craft were separated by several hundreds of yards, Darrin's quick, trained eye took in the fact that the mine-sweeper, by the time the "Grigsby" crossed her course, would be a safe distance ahead.

"No," he decided; "keep to the course and she'll clear us."

Ensign Ormsby nodded and remained silent. Neither could know of the hidden mine that lay in her path.

Yet less than half a minute later a signalman raced to the stern of the mine sweeper, wigwagging frantically this message:

"Hard a-starboard! We have just picked up a mine!"

The little craft had slowed down; she was maneuvering around that mine to get hold and land it on her deck.

Ormsby read the signal with his chief. Not even waiting, now, for Darrin's word, the watch officer changed the course.

Right in the course that they had been going the mine-sweeper now blocked the way. Had her sweep been thirty feet either side she would have gone on past and the destroyer would have struck the mine.

As the "Grigsby" went astern and to starboard of the little craft, then turned and darted port-wise across her bows on a new oblique, officers and men on the destroyer saw the British crew hoisting from the water the mine that would have destroyed one of the latest prides of Uncle Sam's big war fleet.

It was all over, so far as that mine was concerned, and for a moment or two Darrin found himself shaking from a chill that had not been caused by his recent soaking.

The thought of other probable dangers ahead caused him to steel himself once more. To his subordinate officers he presented the confident, smiling face to which they were accustomed.

Several craft of the British Navy and two other American war vessels had received his S. O. S. radio message and had started on their way. But all would have been too late, for some ten minutes after the rescuing fleet started for England the "Gloucester" had lowered her nose under the water. Soon after there was a violent explosion as the sea water reached glowing furnace fires and the boilers, and the hospital ship went down, another victim of inhumane warfare that respects not even the rights of the wounded and sick.

Dave Darrin did not leave the bridge until he had seen his little fleet enter the base port.

Then, pausing for only a word with Belle, he ordered a launch lowered and went direct to the British admiral, reporting his work for the afternoon in greater detail, for he had already sent in the main facts in a radio code message.

"You have done magnificently, Mr. Darrin," exclaimed the admiral. "It was a wonderful performance to keep the 'Gloucester' afloat under such conditions until every human being on board had been transferred to safety."

"That was made possible largely by the nature of the holes in the ship's hull, sir. I cannot say positively, but from my examination of the holes I believe that the mine that the 'Gloucester' struck was not moored as securely to her anchoring device as is usually the case. It was not the bow of the hospital ship, but the side of her hull forward that struck the mine. Two fragments or two groups of fragments of the exploding mine struck the hull, but from my hurried inspection it is my belief that the mine, not being securely moored, was brushed somewhat aside by the impact, and therefore the injury was not as great as it would have been had the anchoring device held the mine more firmly in place. So the ship was not as badly hurt as one would have expected her to be. That much for the mine, sir. Then I had the gallant, splendid help of Captain Senby and his mates and crew. I shall mention their performance in my written report."

"Better put it in early, then," advised the admiral, "for Senby and his mates go up for examination day after tomorrow. I can forward to the board an extract from your report."

"They are to be examined just the same, sir, though the 'Gloucester' is no more?"

"Oh, yes; England has a few more ships left," smiled the admiral, "and we cannot get along with a reduced number of hospital craft."

So, though Dave Darrin, on his return, escorted Belle to the chart-room and chatted with her a few moments, and even allowed her to remain while he worked, he sent for a yeoman and to him dictated an official report of the disaster, parts of which document did not fail to do justice to Captain Senby and his mates.

"Type that for two copies to be transmitted, and one to be filed here, as early as you can, and bring to me for signature," Dave directed. "I wish to go ashore after signing and sending off the reports."

For, at their parting, Admiral Wheatleigh had said:

"Darrin, you and your officers and men have been overworked for some time. You have done splendidly, but now you all need a short rest or your nerves will snap. You will therefore remain in port a few days, and I would recommend you to be liberal in the matter of shore leave."

Even before the typed reports had come in Lieutenant Fernald reported with a written list of the names of officers and men whom he recommended for shore leave beginning that evening.

As a matter of form Darrin glanced down through the list, then signed it.

"The last four men on the list report that they would like shore leave, but are out of funds, sir," hesitated Lieutenant Fernald.

Drawing his purse, Dave extracted four five-dollar bills.

"Lend this to them until pay-day," he directed, thrusting the money into the executive officer's hand. "They are dependable men, and will come to no harm. Up to eleven o'clock I shall be found at the Blank Hotel if wanted. At eleven I shall leave to come aboard, so you may send in a launch for me, Mr. Fernald."

As soon as he had received and signed the typed report in duplicate, and had taken steps to forward them, Darrin and Belle went ashore.

At ten o'clock that evening Dan Dalzell joined them.

"How was the hunting, Danny Grin?" Dave inquired, jovially.

"May I speak of such awful subjects before Mrs. Darrin?" Dan asked.

"I am sure you may, and do not delay gratifying my curiosity," Belle put in.

"Well, then," murmured Dalzell, delightedly, "all I can say is that the hunting proved wonderfully good. With the indispensable aid of the dirigible I located four submarines headed for this coast, and sank them all. I believe that each of the submarines was carrying a cargo of mines to enemy submarine mine-layers off this coast. Do you call that a day of good sport?"

"For every one but the Germans," Dave nodded, beamingly.

But Dan glanced at Belle to see how she took such joyous comments on the sudden deaths of enemies.

"I could feel sorry for the people of some nations, if we were at war with them," Belle Darrin stated, calmly. "But when I hear of the deaths of German submarine officers and sailors I feel a sense of relief at the thought that more of the loathsome beasts have been removed from a decent world."

Dan, too, and the other officers and the crew of the "Reed" were granted several days in port. In fact, there was no need of their services in the same line for some time to come, for a temporary but effective stop had been put to German mine-laying in the North Sea and the Channel.

The masters, mates and crews of the "Olga" and the "Louisa" were tried and sentenced to death, and later were executed. Ober-Lieutenant Dreiner, for his cowardly attempt to murder Dave and his three new friends, was also sentenced to death.

Before his leave in port was ended Dave and Belle met "Mr. and Mrs. Launce" and learned that they were really the Earl and Countess of Denby. After her awful experience in the water the countess's health remained impaired for months, so the noble couple gave up the idea of spy work and turned their energies toward Red Cross work in France and Italy.

Sophia Weiner and her daughter were convicted of espionage in that they had sailed for England with false passports. They are now confined in some prison in England, and will remain there for some years after the war closes.

Captain Kennor reached home safely, where he learned that the other boats from the "Rigsdak" had reached a friendly shore. It was some months before the Danish master went to sea again.

The British admiral's report, sent through channels to the Vice Admiral of the American destroyer fleet, and by him referred to the Secretary of the Navy, was of such character that Dave and Dan received the highest praise direct from Washington by cable, and afterwards by letter.

They had done their work in the finest American naval style, and had made a ten-strike against the German mine-layers.

But they took their honors easily, and had need to, for there was still greater work ahead of them after Belle had used up her few days' leave and had sailed back to France.

THE END