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Dave Darrin After The Mine Layers, a novel by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 6. In The Teeth Of The Channel Gale |
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_ CHAPTER VI. IN THE TEETH OF THE CHANNEL GALE Dave turns real helper. "I thought we were goners!" Making the grapple again. The day's work of a mine-sweeper. In a boiling sea. Life lines up. "Commanding officer overboard!"
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!" _ |
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