CHAPTER XXIV
UNDER THE SEA AGAIN
“I have not yet told the men what I propose to do,” Captain Nicholson informed the boys, ass they made their way aboard the Y-3.
Captain Nicholson introduced the lads to the man at the helm.
“Old Jansen,” he said with a flourish of his arm.
The boys acknowledged this introduction, and Old Jansen touched his cap.
“Jansen,” said the commander, “we are going to attack the Turkish battleships at the mouth of the Euphrates.”
The old man let out a siren-like yell, and turned crimson all over his pink and white face.
Captain Nicholson turned the submarine over to him, and, followed by the two lads, made his way below.
“I never knew eighteen throats could make so much noise,” said Frank to Jack, after the crew had been informed of their project.
And it was indeed a terrific noise the men made when they learned they were about to go into action.
“The ‘subs’ aren’t like the big ships,” Captain Nicholson explained. “With such a small crew I know the men personally, and I know I can count on each and every one of them, particularly Old Jansen, and Brown, the gunner’s mate. I need not caution the engine-room crew for special watchfulness. Every oiler aft knows a warm bearing would condemn him forever in the eyes of his shipmates.”
A few moments more and the submarine was racing along toward the mouth of the Euphrates, where the enemy was known to be. Just as dusk was setting in, Brown, the gunner’s mate, reported an aeroplane to leeward. Captain Nicholson, Jack and Frank, who stood on the bridge, could just make it out with binoculars.
“I hate to use any electricity out of my batteries now,” said Captain Nicholson, “for it is likely to be very precious later. However, I don’t want to run chances of being discovered. We’ll dive.”
The three made their way below. The entrance was hermetically closed, and soon the tanks were being filled. A moment later the Y-3 began to submerge.
At a depth of 60 feet Captain Nicholson trimmed down, and f or an hour the vessel ran along at eight knots, the commander wishing to make sure of complete darkness before coming up.
“How do you manage to keep your course under water, captain?” asked Frank.
“Simple,” was the reply. “Gyroscopic compass.”
At that moment the man on watch at the bell receiver reported the sound of a ship’s propellers above. Captain Nicholson turned his place at the periscope over to his first officer and listened himself.
The steady rhythmic beat was well off the port bow.
At Captain Nicholson’s command, the main ballast tank was emptied until the conning tower was well awash. Then the commander, Frank and Jack went up to have a look around, for the airship, as well as for the vessel.
“Those sky pilots,” said the commander, “maintain that they can see us and get us with bombs at any depth. However, I see nothing of our friend. Looks like he had lost his bet this time.”
They returned below, and Frank put his eye to the periscope.
Almost instantly he made out the outline of large vessel of some kind. He reported this to Captain Nicholson, who brushed him quickly aside and peered into the periscope himself.
“Merchant vessel of some kind,” he said aloud. “We haven’t time to fool with him now. May be able to get him as we come back.”
Once more now the three made their way to the bridge. The clouds had gradually thickened and it was very dark.
“I wish it would rain,” mused Captain Nicholson, “or that we would at least have a dull sunrise, for it will be better suited for our work. Brown says he’s sure we’ll be favored with suitable weather because of the righteousness of our cause; but I am pinning my faith to the barometer, which has already fallen two points.”
“Well, I hope everything goes all right,” said Jack.
“It will,” said the commander grimly. “You can bank on that, son. Might as well give the men a little rest,” he added.
He poked his head down and called out:
“Turn in and pipe down!”
Then the commander and the two lads stood watch on the bridge.
At 2 o’clock, according to the captain’s reckoning, the submarine was well off the mouth of the Euphrates.
“Can we find our way in by the navigation lights?” asked Frank.
“Not much,” replied Captain Nicholson. “We’ll stand off and on near where I place the shore line till we have daylight enough to see what we are about. Anyhow, I don’t suppose there will be any lights, or if there are, they will likely be misplaced, to lure somebody to death.”
Now the commander went below and bent over the charts for perhaps the hundredth time.
“About two miles off yet!” he muttered.
The chart gave the bottom on the sandbar in front of the entrance as shell and hard sand.
“Lucky,” Captain Nicholson told the boys when he returned to the bridge. “This will allow us to run with very little under our keel in no fear of rocks.”
“Is it very deep along here?” asked Jack.
“No,” replied the commander. “That’s what worries me. The chart shows a bare six and a half fathoms over the bar, continuing slightly deeper until it sheers off into the deep basin that is the inner harbor.”
“And how much water does the Y-3 draw?”‘ asked Frank.
“From the top of her periscope to the bottom of her keel,” replied Captain Nicholson, “the Y-3 displaces exactly 20 feet. It will be ticklish work to navigate in those six and a half fathoms (39 feet) without being drawn down by suction and striking bottom so hard as to rebound up to the surface, where the Turks are sure to see us.”
At 4:30 o’clock in the morning there was light enough to make out the small gray fort guarding the entrance to the Euphrates. The submarine did not lie more than a mile away.
“It’s up to us to get out of sight before the fort watchers see us,” said Captain Nicholson.
Being satisfied of how far his run should be and verifying his course by the compass while still on the surface, Captain Nicholson quickly ordered the vessel trimmed down to a depth of 60 feet, and then started forward at about four knots — as low a speed as was consistent with good handling.
“Lucky it’s high tide; just beginning to ebb,” said Captain Nicholson. “We’ll find all the water on the bar that is ever there.”
There was to be no more sleep now on the Y-3. From the gunner’s mate down every man of the crew was on the qui vive.
As the submarine neared where the bar was charted, it came up till the pressure gauge showed only ten feet of water above.
“Ten feet to hide us from the forts’ lookouts and guns,” explained Captain Nicholson.
Suddenly there was a jar that stirred all on board off their feet. There was a sensation of sinking. As previously instructed, the diving rudder man immediately gave the submarine up-rudder. Captain Nicholson ordered full speed ahead, although he knew it would mean that the vessel’s periscope would show, giving the enemy a good look at the vessel.
“If we hadn’t come up,” said Captain Nicholson, “we would have been sucked down solidly into the sand, and good-bye to our chances at those men-o-war inside.”
He was silent a moment and then added: “This is what I call tough luck. We shall have to porpoise.”
In a second the submarine was again down in the deep basin beyond the bar. The vessel hadn’t been up long enough for the commander even to get a look around.
“Here’s where we get busy,” said Captain Nicholson. “It’s up to us to rush the work along before the men in the fort, who must have seen us, can take measures against us.”
The submarine ran along at a speed of ten knots at a depth of forty feet and in almost no time at all had covered the mile from the entrance to where the men-of-war lay.
“Now’s the time,” said Commander Nicholson.
Quickly the torpedoes, 18-inch superheaters, were placed in the tubes. It only remained to arise, sight the enemy and fire.
Quickly the little vessel rose until her periscope gave the commander a view of the first Turkish cruiser. The commander gave the word for a quick rise and the submersion, and took a firm grip on the periscope.
Through the spray that broke, the keen eyes of the commander made out the form of his first target. There, on the port side of the submarine, was a large Turkish cruiser, stern to.
Midstream, to starboard, lay a light cruiser of the first class, and 800 yards up the basin, between the two, a small armored cruiser.
The flat country was thickly veiled with mist and a drizzling rain. A choppy sea added to the chances of making the first attack on the Turks unobserved.
Captain Nicholson steered a course straight to the starboard side of the first Turkish cruiser, to launch the torpedo just forward of amidships at a distance of about 300 yards.
The lookout on the cruiser had not picked up the submarine. Captain Nicholson saw an officer at the stern, sighting the fort with his glass. The Y-3 crept on unnoticed.
Suddenly a seaman on the forecastle of the cruiser made out the periscope of the submarine, waved his cap frantically and ran toward an officer.
All this, as it progressed, Captain Nicholson repeated to the lads, who stood just behind him.
Jack glanced at the range scale. It read 349 yards.
The cross wires of the periscope were on her middle funnel. Captain Nicholson jerked the firing valve for No. 1 torpedo. There was a hiss of air and a rush of water.
The first torpedo had been launched!
CHAPTER XXV
A SUCCESSFUL RAID
Without pausing to learn the effect of the first shot, Captain Nicholson sent the submarine below with a lurch, ordered the helm hard a-starboard and made for mid-channel, where he knew the second first-class cruiser lay at anchor, stern to and nosing the strong ebb-tide.
All members of the crew, as well as Frank and Jack, were jubilant. The men insisted that they had heard a roar that meant the explosion of the cruiser, though this was highly improbable. Jack and Frank had heard nothing, and they turned to Captain Nicholson.
“Did you hit her, sir?” asked Jack eagerly.
“Sure,” was the reply. “The shot couldn’t have failed to go home.”
But the work was only one-third done, even less than that, when the fact that the submarine had to get out of the harbor again is considered.
The submarine, well down, now ran across the harbor at an angle, aiming to come up to the starboard of the second cruiser. Captain Nicholson explained his reason for doing this:
“I figure they will expect us on the side nearest the first cruiser,” he said. “Therefore, I believe we stand a fair chance of surprising them by attacking on the starboard. At the same time, we will have our movements masked from the third and smaller cruiser by our second victim itself.”
This sounded reasonable to the two lads, but they made no comment.
To foster an appearance of an attack off the second cruiser’s port side, Captain Nicholson let go a decoy periscope to float with the tide’s decided sweep to the left shore and draw the fire of the enemy in that direction.
Slowly the submarine advanced, and presently those on board could hear the unmistakable boom of heavy guns. The ruse had succeeded, and the cruisers and guns of the fort were aiming at the spot in the water where the decoy periscope led them to believe the submarine was floating.
The submarine rose so that the periscope took in the scene above the water. Captain Nicholson, glancing through the instrument, saw that he was at least 500 yards to the starboard of the second cruiser. Under full speed, the Y-3 ran straight up to her enemy’s bow.
The periscope, protruding above the water, was quickly sighted by the cruiser, but before the vessel’s guns could be brought to bear, Captain Nicholson released the second torpedo. Immediately the Y-3 dived again.
But before the submarine had entirely disappeared under the water, there came a loud roaring boom. The second torpedo had gone home.
“Magazine must have gone too,” said Captain Nicholson briefly.
Frank and Jack glanced curiously at the members of the crew. Not at all nervous themselves, they were nevertheless surprised at the apparent coolness of the British sailors.
Captain Nicholson noticed the expression on their faces, and took time to remark:
“I suppose we should all be thinking with pity of the dead and dying above us, but when you’re a hundred feet or so below, the shots and cries of battle are neither exciting nor gruesome.”
The gallant commander was now steering a course for the third of the Turkish cruisers.
“Guess I won’t go so close this time,” he remarked. “I’ll fire at longer range, so we won’t have so far to go among the wreckage of all three when we leave.”
Ten minutes, later the submarine came within the desired range, unobserved by the cruiser, which was lowering her boats to go to the help of the others. Captain Nicholson stood with his hand on the toggle of the firing valve, reading the range scale.
Suddenly there was a terrific shock. Every man on board the submarine was knocked off his feet, and the submarine went rapidly to the bottom. Jack was knocked unconscious by the suddenness and force of the shock.
When he opened his eyes again, Frank was bending over him.
“What’s the matter?” he gasped.
“Shot hit us, I guess,” was Frank’s calm reply.
The lad was right. Two small Turkish gunboats, whose presence in the harbor was not known to Captain Nicholson, had approached the scene of battle, and making out the submarine’s periscope, had opened on her with the big guns. One shot had gone true, and it was this that had sent the Y-3 careening to the bottom.
“Are we going to sink?” asked Jack.
“We’ve already sunk,” replied Frank. “Whether we’ll get to the surface again or not I don’t know.”
The lads heard the hiss of air through the vent in the manifold. Brown was letting water into the ballast tank to keep the submarine down. He turned as Captain Nicholson walked over to him.
“They got our periscopes, I think,” he said coolly. “But our torpedo went just the same!”
Sure enough the tube was empty. The force of the shock had caused Captain Nicholson to launch the torpedo before he was ready, and there was no knowing whether it had been aimed true or not.
The commander now took account of the casualties. One of the men had an ugly gash across his forehead from being thrown against a stanchion, another had a bleeding and probably broken nose. Brown applied first aid to the injured, while Captain Nicholson got the submarine under way again and headed for the mouth of the harbor.
“I wonder if that last torpedo went home,” said Frank. “Do you suppose it did, captain?”
“I don’t know,” was the reply. “We are blind now, our periscope having been shot away, and there is no way of telling without going to the surface and exposing ourselves to gunfire.”
“Is there any danger of our being sunk?” asked Jack.
“Danger!” he repeated. “You bet there’s danger. Still, thanks to a tight hull and a true compass, we have a fighting chance.”
The Y-3 was now making ten knots, for, as Captain Nicholson said, “there was no use wasting time and giving the enemy time to plant a barrier.”
Still five hundred yards from the sandbar which must be crossed, there was a jar, a moaning, grinding sound, and the motors went instantly dead. From the battery compartment there was a rush of water into the living quarters.
It was but the work of a moment for the crew to “dog down” the doors of that compartment to segregate the damage and prevent the flooding of other compartments. But even then, the Y-3 was in a bad way, and all on board realized it.
“I guess we are gone this time,” said Frank quietly to Jack.
“Looks like it,” was Jack’s cool reply. “However, while there is life there is hope.”
Captain Nicholson noticed the look of anxiety on the lads’ faces.
“Don’t you worry,” he said cheerily. “We’ll get out of here yet.”
But now the deadliest foe of the submarine was at work — chlorine gas. The action of the salt water on the sulphuric acid of the battery cells was generating it with fatal quickness. Already the boys could feel a deadly burning sensation in their throats and noses.
Fifteen minutes of that atmosphere would have left all on board the submarine gasping and stifling sixty feet below the fresh air that meant life. There was but one thing to do — come to the surface and run for it in the face of the fort.
Captain Nicholson realized that it would be the end if the upper exhaust of No. 3 cylinder failed now, for with the electric engines gone, running on the surface with the Diesels was the only hope. He acted on the instant.
The submarine rose rapidly to the surface, and when well awash, the engines were started at full speed. The hatches were opened and the ventilating fans started, blowing out the gases and letting in the cold, damp air. All on board drew a breath of this invigorating air, and then Captain Nicholson turned his attention to escaping from beneath the big guns of the fort.
From his place in the conning tower he cold plainly see the activity of the fort when the lookout made out the submarine. Now the two lads, at a sign from the commander, joined him.
Glancing in the direction he pointed, they made out the fighting tops of the first two cruisers, victims of the submarine’s daring raid, just reaching out of the water. The third cruiser was afloat, but from her heavy list to starboard, it was plain that she was badly damaged and sinking fast.
The fort was getting the range now, and shells fell all around the Y-3. One struck the water nearby, hurling water over the conning tower and drenching the three who stood there.
“Well,” said Captain Nicholson, “they may get us, but we got three of them.”
“And there is some satisfaction in that, anyhow,” said Frank.
“You bet there is,” Jack agreed.
The submarine was halfway across the bar, and had not been hit, and every instant meant that much more chance for life. The helmsman stuck nobly to his post, head down, and without a look at the fort. The submarine shook and trembled with the vibrations of the hard-pushed engines, straining to get the submarine to deep water.
The gallant lads in the engine-room were doing their best. A shell from long range, with most of its force expended, glanced off the port bow of the submarine, carrying away the towing pennant. The nose of the Y-3 ducked under a bit, but came up serenely in half a second.
The commander of the vessel, perceiving deep water ahead, encouraged the helmsman with a cry. Already the vessel was almost over the bar. The fire from the fort was decreasing. Only the longer range guns could come into play now.
Looking back, the lads saw two destroyers racing in the wake of the submarine, preceded by a small gunboat.
The first shells of the gunboat whizzed by the submarine. Captain Nicholson slammed down the hatch.
“Water armor for us!” he cried.
A moment later the submarine was on the safe haven of the bottom with 100 feet of solid protecting water between it and hostile shells.
“That was pretty ticklish,” said Frank, drawing a breath when they were out of reach of the gunboat’s fire.
“It was,” was the commander’s response, “and we are not safe yet by any means.”
“Why — ?” began Frank.
“We can’t go up again now, can we?” demanded Captain Nicholson. “We shall have to stay down here until they believe we have escaped. Then we will rise and try to sneak out.”
“But surely we are safe enough down here.”
“Don’t you believe it. They’ll trawl for us all day; but luckily for us they don’t know we have lost our batteries, so they’ll probably search over a wide area, and we run that much more chance of not being discovered.”
“But surely no shell would reach us here,” said Frank.
“No,” replied the commander grimly, “but if they discover us, they are likely to dump a few barge loads of pig iron or something down on us and crush our steel plating.”
But the submarine was not discovered by the enemy and remained below the water all the rest of the day “went to sleep on the bottom,” as the phrase goes. And that is what literally was done, for all on board were tired out.
An hour after sunset, the Y-3 came once more to the surface. There was no sign of an enemy. The sky was still banked with heavy clouds, and there was a choppy sea running.
Captain Nicholson started to run for safety at full speed ahead. Having no batteries for submerged running now, the Y-3 had to remain on top of the water, or else sink to the bottom and lie still; and for this reason Captain Nicholson kept prepared for a quick submersion.
Mines were the worst dangers the Y- 3 bad to encounter now, and a careful watch was kept and the speed of the vessel reduced. Twice the vessel was picked up by the searchlight on the fort, and each time submerged.
But the engines stood up well, and at last Captain Nicholson said quietly to the two lads:
“Well, we’re safe at last.”
“Good,” said Frank, “but I wouldn’t have missed this experience for a fortune.”
“Nor I,” declared Frank.
“You take my advice,” said Captain Nicholson, as he headed the Y-3 for the spot where they had left the Sylph almost 40 hours before, “and stay on the top. Don’t spend any more time on a submarine than you have to.”
CHAPTER XXVI
CRUISING AGAIN
It seemed long hours to Frank and Jack before they once more made out the form of the Sylph, still cruising slowly to and fro close to where they bad left her nearly two days before. The submarine drew up to her rapidly, and soon Captain Nicholson ordered a small boat launched.
Into this climbed first a seaman, then Captain Nicholson and Frank and, Jack. Lord Hastings greeted the boys warmly as they dropped over the rail of the Sylph.
“I was beginning to fear something bad gone wrong,” he said. “I certainly am glad to see you back safe and sound. Was the raid a success?”
“It was indeed,” replied Frank.
“Three Turkish cruisers sent to the bottom,” said Jack briefly.
“Good!” cried Lord Hastings enthusiastically. “And the submarine wasn’t damaged, eh?”
“Oh, yes, it was,” broke in Captain Nicholson, and proceeded to relate the details of the encounter.
“And how did the two lads behave themselves?” questioned Lord Hastings.
“Admirably,” was Captain Nicholson’s reply. “We were in a pretty ticklish situation for a moment, but they never lost their nerve.”
The lads blushed at this praise.
“Well,” said Captain Nicholson, after some further talk, “I guess I shall have to say good-bye.”
He shook hands all around, and was soon on his way back to his own vessel. Immediately the Sylph was got under way, and proceeded on her course westward. But she had gone hardly a mile when the wireless operator rushed up to Lord Hastings, and handed him a message.
“Relayed by the Gloucester and Terror, Sir,” he said.
Lord Hastings read the message:
“Strong German squadron somewhere off coast of South America. British fleet on watch. Get in touch.”
The message was signed by Winston Spencer Churchill, first Lord of the Admiralty.
Lord Hastings pursed his lips and whistled expressively.
“Another long cruise,” he said briefly.
Soon the Sylph’s head was turned toward the South, and for several days thereafter she pursued her uneventful way down the coast of South Africa. Rounding the Cape of Good Hope, she steamed straight for the distant coast of South America.
Lord Hastings stopped to coal once or twice, and so it was some days before the lookout picked up, land ahead.
“Should be the Argentine coast, if we have not drifted off our course,” Lord Hastings informed the two lads.
He was right, and the following day the Sylph put in at one of the small South American ports for coal.
“We’ll have the ship looked over a bit,” said Lord Hastings. “We are permitted to stay in this, port 24 hours, and at the expiration of that time we must leave or be interned.”
It was in this place that Lord Hastings and the members of the Sylph’s crew learned of the disaster that had overtaken several British cruisers in those parts. Here, for the first time, they heard of the defeat of a small British squadron by the Germans, and of the death of Admiral Sir Christopher Craddock, who had gone down fighting to the last.
“Never fear,” said Lord Hastings, “Sir Christopher’s loss shall be avenged, and that shortly, or I am badly mistaken.”
The following day the Sylph put to sea again, and headed down the Argentine coast.
It was late the next afternoon, when the wireless operator aboard the Sylph picked up a message.
“German squadron some place near, sir,” he said laconically, as he handed a message to Lord Hastings.
The commander of the Sylph glanced at the message. In regular maritime code, it read:
“Close in.”
“I haven’t been able to pick up the position of the ship that sent that, sir,” the operator volunteered.
“If you can do so,” said Lord Hastings, “let me know immediately.”
“Do you know what German ships are supposed to be in these waters?” Jack asked of Lord Hastings.
“Why, yes,” was the latter’s reply. “The armored cruisers Scharnhorst and Gneisenau, the former the flagship of Admiral Count von Spee, and the protected cruisers Leipzig, Dresden and Nurnberg. Why?”
“Well,” Jack explained, “judging by the message just picked up, they must be separated. Couldn’t we, by representing ourselves as one of these vessels, possibly pick up a little useful information?”
“By Jove!” said Lord Hastings. “We could.”
“But how are we to know which ship sent that message?” asked Frank. “We wouldn’t want to make a mistake, and we might try to pass ourselves off as the very cruiser that flashed that message.”
“The message was undoubtedly sent from the flagship,” said Lord Hastings, “so we are safe enough there. Come with me.”
He led the way to the wireless room, where the operator was making unsuccessful efforts to pick up more messages from the air.
Now, at Lord Hastings’ direction, he tapped his key.
“Scharnhorst! Scharnhorst!” the instrument called through the air.
There was no reply, and the call was repeated.
“Scharnhorst! Scharnhorst!”
A moment later and there was a faint clicking of the Sylph’s apparatus. The call was being answered. The operator wrote it off.
“What ship is that? Admiral von Spee orders all to close in,” and the exact position of the German flagship was given.
“‘Dresden!” flashed back Lord Hastings. “Signed, Koehler.”
“I happen to know Captain Koehler commands the Dresden,” Lord Hastings confided to the boys.
He sent another message to the German admiral:
“Where are you headed?”
“Falkland Islands,” came back the answer.
“To attack the British?” was the message Lord Hastings sent through the air.
“Will sink one British ship in harbor and destroy Wireless plant,” was the answer to this query.
“Good!” said Lord Hastings to the lads. “We now know his objective point, and if we could pick up the English fleet we would be prepared to receive them.”
“Is there a British fleet in these waters?” asked Jack, in some surprise.
“Yes,” replied the commander of the Sylph. “Vice Admiral Sir Frederick Sturdee, chief of the war staff, is hereabouts with a powerful fleet. The fact has been generally kept a secret, but I am in possession of that much information.”
“Do you make the Germans’ position closer to the Falkland Islands than ours?” asked Frank.
“No,” replied Lord Hastings. “Judging by the action of the wireless, I should say we are fifty miles closer.”
“Then,” said Frank, “why cannot we make a dash for the Islands? We can put in there and give warning. Besides, it may be that some of the British fleet is near there.”
“A good idea,” replied Lord Hastings. “It shall be acted upon at once.”
Under full speed the Sylph dashed forward toward the Islands.
“I don’t expect we shall pick up the Falklands before morning,” said Lord Hastings, “and we shall have to keep a sharp lookout tonight, for we are likely to bump into a German cruiser prowling about here some place.”
“Scharnhorst trying to raise the Dresden again,” said the wireless operator to Lord Hastings, with a grin.
“Let her try,” replied Lord Hastings. “Guess Admiral von Spee will think it funny he gets no reply, but he’ll think it funnier still when he finally does raise the Dresden and learns that it was not she who answered his other call.”
And it was not long until the real Dresden did reply. The Sylph’s operator picked up the messages that were exchanged.
“Dresden, Koehler!” came the response to one of the flagship’s calls.
“What is the matter?” came the query. “Why did you cease communicating?”
“Don’t understand,” was the reply. “Have not communicated with you before.”
“Didn’t you acknowledge my call fifteen minutes ago?”
“No!”
Even the ticking of the wireless instrument now grew nervous, and it was plain that the sender was laboring under stress.
“Received message signed ‘Dresden, Koehler, fifteen minutes ago,” came from the flagship. “Did you send it?”
“No,” was the reply flashed back. “Picked you up now for the first time.”
“Enemy must have picked up call and answered then,” flashed the flagship. “Heed only code messages in future, and answer in kind.”
Thereafter, although the operator picked up the messages passing between the two ships, they were only a jumble. In spite of all attempts of Lord Hastings and the two lads to decipher the code, they remained in ignorance of further communication between the enemy’s ships.
“Well,” said Lord Hastings. “We have scared them up a little bit, anyhow.”
“I should say we have,” replied Jack. “They don’t know whether we are one or a dozen.”
“But,” said Frank, “they probably will make for the Falklands now faster than ever.”
“Right,” replied Lord Hastings, “and it’s up to us to get there well ahead of them.”
“Other cruisers coming within zone, sir,” reported the wireless operator.
“Can you make out their conversation?” inquired Lord Hastings.
“No, sir,” was the reply. “They have reported to the flagship, and after being warned, have continued in code.”
“Did you pick up their identities?”
“Yes, sir. Besides the Dresden, the Gneisenau, Leipzig and Nurnberg have reported.”
“That’s all of ’em,” said Lord Hastings dryly, and they make a pretty powerful squadron. Here’s where we have to begin to hustle.”
The Sylph seemed to go forward even faster than before.
CHAPTER XXVII
TRAPPING THE ENEMY
“Land ahead!” came the cry of the lookout.
It was now early morning, and Lord Hastings, Jack and Frank stood on the bridge taking a breath of the fresh, invigorating air.
Glasses were quickly leveled, and soon the distant shore was made out.
“What port are we making for, sir?” asked Jack.
“Port Stanley,” was Lord Hastings’ reply.
Rapidly the Sylph steamed on, and finally, rounding into the little harbor, they made out a welcome and unexpected sight. Frank and Jack cried out in surprise, and even Lord Hastings was moved to an expression of wonder.
In the little harbor, screened from the sea, riding gently on the swell of the tide, were eight British ships of war!
“Oh, my!” exclaimed Frank joyfully, doing a little clog dance on the bridge, “won’t we give it to the Germans now!”
Jack was equally as enthusiastic, though he was not given to such outbursts of emotion, being naturally more quiet.
“It looks like the end of the German squadron to me,” he said simply.
As the Sylph steamed into the little harbor, one of the British war vessels turned slightly, and a shell screamed over the Sylph’s bow.
“Want to know who we are,” explained Lord Hastings.
The British ensign was quickly run up, and there followed a loud, cheer from the sailors of the fleet.
On the ship closest to shore flew the flag of Vice Admiral Sturdee.
“I guess I had better pay my respects to the admiral at once,” said, Lord Hastings. “Would you boys care to come with me?”
“Nothing would please us more,” replied Frank, speaking for both.
The Sylph steamed close to the British fleet, and then the three put off for the flagship in a small boat. Aboard, they were shown immediately to the admiral’s cabin, where the nearness of the German squadron was rapidly related.
“Fortunate!” cried Admiral Sturdee. “I feared I would have to chase them all over the sea. I didn’t expect them to come to me. Have you a plan to suggest, Lord Hastings?”
“I fear, Sir Frederick,” replied Lord Hastings, “that if you put to sea to give battle, the Germans will turn and flee upon recognizing the power of the British fleet.”
“True,” mused the admiral.
“May I offer a suggestion, Sir Frederick?” asked Jack.
The admiral glanced at the lad sharply, but Jack bore up bravely under the close scrutiny.
“Speak, sir,” ordered the admiral.
“Then I would suggest, sir,” said Jack, “that one of your cruisers be sent out so the enemy may be able to get a bare glimpse of her. Believing that she is alone, they undoubtedly will approach to attack. Let the cruiser, retiring slowly, give battle. When she has drawn the enemy close enough, the remainder of the fleet can make a dash and nab the Germans before they have time to flee.”
“An excellent plan!” cried the admiral, springing to his feet. “It shall be put into execution.”
With a wave of his hand he signified that the interview was over, and Frank, Jack and Lord Hastings made their way back to the Sylph.
That Admiral Sturdee was a man of action became apparent in a few moments. Unaware just how far off the German squadron was, Sir Frederick took the necessary steps immediately.
Less than an, hour after Lord Hastings and the two lads had returned aboard the Sylph, the British battleship Canopus got under way, and steaming away from her sister ships, made for the entrance to the little harbor, going slowly.
Here she took up her position, steaming slowly back and forth. As yet, however, there was no sign of the enemy. Meantime, other vessels in the fleet continued to coal swiftly. Steam was gotten up and every ship prepared for action.
Against the German fleet of five ships — the armored cruisers Scharnhorst and Gneisenau and the protected cruisers Leipzig, Dresden and Nurnberg, accompanied by two colliers — the British admiral, besides the Sylph, would go into battle with eight ships of war — the battle cruisers Invincible and Inflexible, the former Admiral Sturdee’s flagship, the cruisers Kent, Cornwall, Carnarvon, Bristol and Glasgow, and the battleship Canopus.
At Sir Frederick’s command, every sailor in the English fleet was given a light meal, and then each man took a cold bath. Following this, those who were not on watch, turned in for a brief rest. And to show the hardihood and bravery of the British tar, there was not a man who showed signs of nervousness or fear.
There was a signal from the Canopus — a signal by flags, for the British did not wish to betray their presence by the use of the wireless, which could be as easily picked up by the enemy.
“Enemy approaching,” read the signal.
Admiral Sturdee signaled back.
“Engage him when he has approached so close that he believes you are unable to get away.”
The commander of the Canopus signified his understanding of this command, and continued steaming to and fro, ostensibly guarding the harbor.
At last the first gray form of a German cruiser came within sight of those on the Sylph. It was steaming slowly forward, apparently in no hurry and secure in its belief that there was no enemy near to be feared.
The Sylph had been stripped for action with the rest of the British fleet, for Lord Hastings had no mind to keep out of the battle.
“We’ve come a long ways to see an engagement,” he told the lads, “and I think we are entitled to a hand in the affair.”
“Hurrah!” shouted Frank.
“Good!” said Jack, quietly. “I was afraid we would have to stand off and look on.”
“That’s what I was afraid of, too,” declared Frank.
“Well, we won’t,” said Lord Hastings. “Not this time, at any rate. I guess you will see all the fighting you wish presently.”
Still the German squadron came on, apparently unconscious of the presence of the British battleship Canopus, the only English vessel that could be seen from the open sea. All seven ships — five vessels of war and the two colliers — could be plainly discerned now.
“What’s the matter with ’em?” demanded Frank. “Surely they can see the Canopus.”
“I guess they are figuring she hasn’t spotted them yet,” said Jack. “Believing he has only one enemy to contend with, Admiral von Spee evidently is trying to get as close as possible without being seen.”
Indeed, this seemed a plausible explanation. At any rate, in lieu of a more reasonable one, it answered. Men on the Canopus now rushed hurriedly to and fro, officers darted hither and thither. The Canopus was ready for instant battle.
All the other ships of the British fleet also had come to life. Men who had been sleeping hurried to their posts. The gun crews stood at their places, the range finders were at their posts, and the officers stood ready to repeat the signal for advance as soon as Admiral Sturdee should give it.
Stripped to the waists, in spite of the chilly atmosphere outside, the crew of the Sylph also was ready. There was grim determination written plainly on the face of every man. In spite of the apparent superiority of the British fleet, each man realized that the battle would be to the death.
They knew that, although surprised, the Germans would not give up without a struggle — that they would battle desperately for supremacy although outnumbered. Confident of their own prowess and marksmanship, they nevertheless did not discount the ability of the foe.
“It will be a furious battle,” said Lord Hastings to the lads, who stood beside him.
“I have an idea,” said Frank, “that when the enemy finds he is outnumbered, he will not engage all his ships, but will try to protect the flight of most of them with one or two.”
“By love!” said Lord Hastings. “I hadn’t considered such a contingency. I wouldn’t be surprised if you have hit it.”
“I believe he has,” said Jack.
“Well,” said Lord Hastings grimly, “we will make that our business. Admiral Sturdee can take care of the fighting part of the fleet, and we will try to intercept any vessel that tries to escape.”
“But do you suppose we can?” asked Frank.
“We can try,” replied the commander of the Sylph, with slightly compressed lips. “As soon as the Germans engage the Canopus, we will try to get out ahead of the rest of the fleet and, keeping out of the thick of battle, steam to sea. Then if any of the enemy try to get away, with our superior speed we can at least head them off and engage them until help arrives.”
“A first-class plan,” Jack agreed. “However, I shouldn’t be surprised if Admiral Sturdee had anticipated such a maneuver by the enemy.”
“Even if he has,” said Lord Hastings, “we probably wouldn’t be selected to accomplish the work, and that’s what we want to do. Therefore, we will act without being ordered.”
“Good,” said Jack.
In the meantime the German fleet had been approaching steadily. It was apparent that the presence of the British battleship Canopus, in the entrance to the harbor, had at last been discovered. A wireless message flashed through the air.
“Surrender or I shall sink you!” it read.
“An Englishman never surrenders!” was the reply flashed back by the commander of the Canopus.
The German admiral tried again.
“I would avoid all unnecessary loss of life,” he signaled.
“Thanks,” was the laconic response of the Canopus. “We are able to take care of ourselves.”
To this there was no reply, and still the German squadron came on without firing a shot.
“Wonder why they don’t shoot?” asked Jack.
“Guess they want to get as close as possible first,” replied Frank. “Remember, they believe they have only one to deal with.”
“True,” said Jack. “But why doesn’t the Canopus fire?”
“I suppose,” replied Frank, “it’s because the commander wishes to draw the enemy so close that escape will be impossible.”
And the lad had hit upon the exact reason. Mindful of his instructions to draw the enemy in as close as possible before engaging him, the commander of the Canopus had no mind to open the battle.
And ever the German squadron was steaming closer and closer to destruction. But there is an end to everything, and so there finally came an end to this inaction.
“Boom!”
A single German gun had opened the battle.
There was no reply from the Canopus.
“Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!”
Two of the enemy’s ships cut loose at the Canopus.
Still the British battleship did not reply.
But the Germans had not yet found the range, and the Canopus was untouched, although several shells struck near her.
Then: “Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!”
The Canopus had at last opened fire on her foes. And, even as the first British shell sped across the water, the Canopus turned and began to retreat.
Fearful of losing their prey, the German vessels increased their speed and steamed rapidly after her, their big guns continuing to hurl shells across the water.
The Canopus was replying gun for gun, now, and with each moment the roar of battle increased.
And then, suddenly, in perfect battle formation, imposing and majestic in their advance, out of the little harbor steamed proudly the battle fleet of Great Britain, moving swiftly forward to engage the enemy!
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE ENGAGEMENT
The enemy perceived the advance of this formidable squadron in an instant, and there was a lull in the fire of the German ships. Then the guns opened with redoubled vigor, and the entire German fleet turned to flee.
Not unwilling to take advantage of the apparent fact that they had but one enemy to encounter — the Canopus — now that the odds were somewhat against them there was a different story. Evidently the German admiral held five German ships against one British vessel fair odds, but he was not minded to have the odds eight to five against him.
But the German fleet, secure in the belief that it had but one enemy to contend with, had advanced too far. Escape now was impossible. The greater speed of the British ships became apparent as the chase continued, the English ever gaining.
At last, realizing that there was no hope of escape, Admiral von Spee turned to give battle. The Scharnhorst, Gneisenau and Leipzig immediately formed in battle line.
Immediately the British ships slowed up. The Nurnberg and Dresden, the two smaller German cruisers, did not join the other three German ships in battle formation, but continued their flight.
This was what those on board the Sylph had expected, and the little scout cruiser, making a slight detour, to avoid, as far as possible, shells from the three German cruisers, started in pursuit, full speed ahead. The German vessels, however, had considerable of a start, and it was plain that the Sylph would not overhaul them for hours.
In the meantime the battle was raging fiercely. From the first the British concentrated their fire on the German flagship. The huge thirty-four centimeter guns of the British fleet, as against the twenty-one centimeter guns of the enemy, made the outcome of the engagement certain from the first. All that remained was to see how well the Germans could fight, and what damage they could inflict on Admiral Sturdee’s fleet before being sent to the bottom.
A huge shell from the British flagship dropped squarely aboard the Scharnhorst and exploded with a deafening detonation. Metal and bodies flew high in the air, shattered, and dropped into the sea for yards around. But the Scharnhorst had not been hit in a vital spot, and she continued to fight back desperately.
Now a shell from the Canopus struck the Scharnhorst amidships; a second from the Inflexible and a third from the Invincible followed in quick succession, and every one went home. The marksmanship of the British gunners was remarkable.
But the British were not escaping unscathed. A shell from the Leipzig struck the Cornwall just below the waterline and pierced her armor, and then exploded. Two men were killed by flying pieces of steel, and several others were wounded. So far this was the only loss sustained by the English.
As the battle progressed the fire of the British became more and more deadly. Hardly a shot was wasted now. The Scharnhorst, wounded unto death, fought back with the courage born of desperation.
A well-directed shell burst aboard the Invincible, killing three men outright and maiming practically every member of a gun crew near which it struck. But new men were in their places in a second, and the gun did not even pause in its fire.
Gradually the fire of the Scharnhorst became slower and slower, as one after another her guns were silenced by the accurate fire of the British gunners.
Then came the sound of a terrific explosion aboard the German flagship, and she staggered perceptibly. There was a lull in the British fire, as a demand was made for the Scharnhorst to surrender.
The German admiral hurled back a message of defiance to his foes, and the few remaining guns on his flagship continued to spout fire and smoke. He had determined to fight to the last, and go down with his ship, if need be.
The fire from the British ships, the demand for surrender having been refused, broke out afresh, and finally, struck in a vital part, the Scharnhorst burst into flames, at the same time beginning to settle in the water.
Admiral Sturdee could not but admire the way in which the German sailors stuck to their posts in the face of certain death, and he ordered the fire against the Scharnhorst to cease, that those on board might have a chance for life.
But of this chance neither the German admiral nor his men would take advantage. There were still several guns fit for action, and these continued to rain shells at the British. And, as the ship burned like a raging furnace, at the same time settling lower and lower in the water, these brave men continued to fire their guns.
Now the last gun had either been silenced or had disappeared below the water. Admiral von Spee appeared upon deck, in full view of his enemies. His officers and surviving members of the crew gathered about him. The sweet music of a band carried across the water. The Germans stood erect about their commander, as the flames crept close and the ship settled.
Suddenly it was all over. With a startling movement the Scharnhorst disappeared beneath the waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Her commander and crew had stood with bared heads to the last, and had gone to death, standing as though drawn up for inspection. There was a faint cheer from them as the ship disappeared beneath the waves.
The sinking of the German flagship Scharnhorst had required just a few minutes less than an hour.
Now the entire British fleet concentrated its fire upon the Gneisenau. In spite of the loss of the flagship and their admiral, the Germans would not give up; in fact, they seemed determined to rejoin their companions in the world beyond a watery grave.
The fire from both German cruisers became fiercer. Shells played a merry tattoo on the armored sides of the Canopus, upon which the two German cruisers were concentrating their fire, but the shells rattled harmlessly off the well-protected sides, and the Canopus was not damaged.
Gradually now the British squadron closed in on the Gneisenau and Leipzig, spreading out in a half circle as they advanced. Both German ships had been vitally wounded, but they continued to fight back gamely. Shell after shell burst on their decks, pierced them below the waterline, or carried away their fighting tops or superstructure.
Battered almost to pieces, and their decks strewn with dead and dying, they nevertheless fought on.
There would be no surrender. This fact was apparent to the British, and they directed their fire so as to end the battle as quickly as possible.
The Gneisenau staggered, and seemed about to go under. She recovered her equilibrium in an instant, however, and renewed the battle with even greater vigor than before.
Now the two German cruisers, crippled and battered as they were, steamed as rapidly they could right toward the British fleet, making a final effort to inflict a serious blow upon the British before themselves going to the bottom.
Closer and closer they came, their guns hurling shells at all the British vessels without favor. A shell struck squarely upon the bridge of the Canopus, killing an officer; and the splintering wood that flew about accounted for two more, making the British death list now eight.
And still the German cruisers came on; and then the Gneisenau wavered, halted and staggered back. A shell had pierced through to her boilers. There was an explosion, followed by a great hissing sound.
Without steam the Gneisenau could steam neither forward nor backward. Stationary, rising and falling on the swell of the waves, she continued to pour in her fire, even as the Leipzig continued on alone.
A British shell struck the Leipzig’s steering gear, rendering it useless, and the German cruiser staggered about at the mercy of the sea. Still the gunners continued to hurl shells at the British whenever the guns could be brought to bear.
But this was not often, for the fact that she could not be steered properly rendered the work of the British much easier.
Admiral Sturdee, greatly impressed with the bravery of the Germans, decided to give them one more chance for life. He ordered a cessation of firing and called upon the two cruisers to surrender.
The merciful offer was met with a cry of defiance, and a shell burst over the admiral’s flagship, dropping half a score of men, two of whom never arose.
Now the British ships closed in on the two German cruisers, and poured broadside after broadside into the almost defenseless hulls.
Suddenly the Gneisenau disappeared beneath the waves, with all on board, the last that was heard of her being a cheer from her crew.
The Leipzig lasted but a moment longer. She was listing badly, and now, suddenly rising on her beam’s end, she dived beneath the water.
The battle of the Falkland Islands, the greatest British sea victory since the battle off Heligoland, was over.
Boats were quickly lowered from the British ships to rescue, if possible, survivors of the German ships. A few were picked up, but not many. Of the more than 1,800 men aboard the three German cruisers, at least 1,700 had gone to the bottom.
The Scharnhorst and the Gneisenau were the largest cruisers of the German fleet. They were sister ships, of 11,600 tons’ displacement, 450 feet on the waterline, and were rated at a speed of 22 1/2 knots. Each carried a complement of 765 men, and was armed with eight 8.2-inch guns, six 6-inch guns, twenty 24-Pounders, four machine-guns and four torpedo tubes.
The Leipzig had a displacement of 3,250 tons and carried 286 men. She was 341 feet long on the waterline, had a beam of 43 1/2 feet, and was rated at 23 knots. Her largest guns, of which she carried ten, were 4-inch. She had also ten 1-pounders, four machine-guns and two torpedo tubes.
And these were the three mighty vessels of the battle fleet of the Emperor of Germany which, after having preyed for months upon British shipping, had finally been sent to the bottom of the Atlantic by Admiral Sir Frederick Sturdee, chief of the British War Staff.
CHAPTER XXIX
RULE BRITANNIA
Meanwhile, what of the Sylph?
When the German cruisers Dresden and Nurnberg had fallen back in an attempt to escape, the Sylph dashed after them at full speed.
“‘Will you engage both of them?” asked Frank of Lord Hastings.
“If necessary,”‘ replied the Sylph’s commander. “We at least may be able to hold them off until help arrives.”
The Sylph sped on; but it became apparent that the Dresden was gradually drawing ahead of the Nurnberg. Jack noticed this, and spoke to Lord Hastings.
“If we stay well behind, and give them the impression that we are not fast enough to overtake either of them,” he said, “the Dresden may leave the Nurnberg to take care of herself. Then we can get them one at a time.”
“A good idea,” said Lord Hastings.
The speed of the Sylph was reduced somewhat. Still the Dresden continued to draw away from her consort, and, after hours of tireless pursuit, finally was almost out of sight.
All that night the pursuit of the Nurnberg continued, and it was early morning, and the sun was streaming over the sea, when the Sylph, having increased her speed during the darkness, finally drew within range of the Nurnberg.
A shot from the Sylph’s forward gun brought the Nurnberg to a sudden halt, and she turned immediately to give battle. This was what Lord Hastings had hoped for.
The first shell from the Nurnberg kicked up the water a good half mile in front of the Sylph.
“We have the range of her,” said Lord Hastings calmly.
The Sylph slowed down, and continued to plump shells and solid shot upon her opponent at long range. Some of these struck home, and it was plain to the two lads, who stood on the bridge, that some of them had done considerable damage.
Realizing that he was outranged, the commander of the Nurnberg ordered full speed ahead and dashed toward the Sylph, that he might get within range before the Sylph had crippled him with her long-distance fire.
Before she managed to get within range, however, her fighting top had been shot away, she had been pierced in vital spots several times and was otherwise very badly crippled.
But now a shell came screaming over the bridge. Involuntarily both lads ducked, so close had the shell passed to their heads. It sped on over the Sylph and plowed up the water over the stern.
“Close call,” said Jack briefly.
“It was, indeed,” agreed Frank.
So close were the two vessels now that the machine-guns on both vessels were brought into play, and a perfect hail of shot fell upon both ships.
So far the Sylph had not been hit, but suddenly the little cruiser staggered back. A shot had struck her squarely in the bow. The damage was not serious, and she again leaped forward.
For two hours the battle continued, with advantage to neither side. Both vessels were badly battered by this time, and one of the Sylph’s smokestacks had been shot away. Now, glancing suddenly astern, Frank uttered a joyous cry.
“British cruiser coming up, sir,” he informed Lord Hastings.
The commander of the Nurnberg had noticed the approach of the British cruiser at the same instant, and, realizing that he could not successfully battle with another enemy, he ordered the Nurnberg put about, and made off as fast as his crippled condition would permit, his stern guns still playing upon the Sylph.
Evidently the Nurnberg’s commander figured that the Sylph, being as badly crippled as he was, could not successfully pursue. The British cruiser was still some distance off, and he hoped to be able to outrun her also.
But he was doomed to disappointment. No sooner had the Nurnberg turned to flee, than the Sylph made rapidly after her. At the same moment there came a wireless from the British cruiser, which proved to be the Glasgow.
“Stick to her close,” the message read, “we’ll be with you in a jiffy.”
So, at Lord Hastings’ command, the Sylph stuck closely. For perhaps an hour the commander of the Nurnberg tried to shake off the pursuer; and then, realizing that this could not be done, and that the Glasgow was also rapidly gaining on him, he once, more turned to give battle.
The Nurnberg came about suddenly and dashed straight at the Sylph. In fact, so sudden was this maneuver that the Sylph was caught unprepared, and for a moment was at a disadvantage. However, this disadvantage did not last long.
Lord Hastings ordered the Sylph put about, and turned to flee.
“What on earth are we running for?” demanded Jack.
“Why,” replied Lord Hastings, “if the Nurnberg will chase us, we’ll run her right up to the Glasgow. And, if she puts about and makes off again, we have gained just that much time.”
“I see,” said Jack.
The Nurnberg refused to chase the Sylph. Instead, she put about and continued her flight. Immediately the Sylph was after her again. Once more the Nurnberg came about and made a dash at the Sylph, and again the Sylph turned and ran.
But this time the Nurnberg did not turn to run again. Lord Hastings’ maneuver had succeeded so well that the Glasgow was now within striking distance, and a shell fired at long range dropped close to the Nurnberg. The Sylph came about again and dashed forward, hurling her instruments of death at her opponent as rapidly as her crippled condition would permit.
From the Glasgow came a command for the Nurnberg to surrender, but the commander of the German ship did not even take the trouble to reply to this message. The Sylph and her enemy came close together rapidly.
Shells were dropping aboard both vessels, and it seemed miraculous that both did not go to the bottom. The blood of both commanders was up and neither would give an inch. It all depended now upon which ship was struck in a vital spot first.
Fortunately for those aboard the Sylph it was the German who suffered. A shell pierced the Nurnberg’s side and penetrated the engine-room, where it exploded the Nurnberg’s boilers with, a thundering roar. On the instant the Nurnberg seemed to turn into a sheet of flame.
Another explosion followed, and still another, and almost quicker than it takes to tell it, the German cruiser Nurnberg, the fourth of Admiral von Spee’s fleet, disappeared beneath the waves.
While the Sylph lay waiting for the Glasgow to come up a hasty examination was made. One man had been killed and two injured That was, the extent of the damage to the Sylph. Every man of the German crew of 300 men had gone to the bottom.
“Nothing serious the matter with us, sir,” Jack reported, after an investigation.
“Good!” replied Lord Hasting.
“Nothing broken that cannot be fixed in two hours, sir,” Frank reported.
“Good!” exclaimed Lord Hastings again.
Half an hour later the commander of the Glasgow came aboard the Sylph, and was speedily closeted with Lord Hastings in the latter’s cabin. Soon, however, the two emerged on deck, and approached where Frank and Jack were standing.
“I understand,” said the commander of the Glasgow to the two lads, “that it was your plan Admiral Sturdee acted upon when he lured the German fleet to give battle. Also that it was your idea that has resulted in the sinking of the Nurnberg. I am glad to know you.”
He extended a hand to each, and the boys grasped them heartily.
“Now,” continued the commander of the Glasgow, “it is up to us to follow and sink the Dresden. Besides her there is but one German ship in these waters — the Karlsruhe, and we’ll get her before we are through.”
“Have you any idea where she is?” asked Frank.
“I imagine she has gone around the Horn into the Pacific.”
“In that case,” said Jack, “the Dresden has probably gone to join her.”
“By Jove!” exclaimed the commander of the Glasgow. “I believe you are right. What do you think, Lord Hastings?”
“I believe Mr. Templeton has hit the nail on the head, as usual,” replied the commander of the Sylph. “Therefore, I should say that we had better head in that direction.”
“Agreed!” returned the commander of the Glasgow, and, after some further talk, he put over the side and returned to his own vessel.
Several hours were now spent on board the Sylph repairing the damage caused by the German shells and getting the little vessel in shipshape again. Then, at last, the Sylph was once more under way, beading for the Pacific.
A mile to the stern followed the British cruiser Glasgow. For two days and nights, after rounding the Horn, the two British vessels sought some trace of the Karlsruhe and the Dresden. They put into port after port, but could get no trace of her.
But at last they came upon the German cruiser. It was the fourth day after rounding the Horn, and the German ship was just putting out of a little Chilean port. The commander was not unaware of the presence of the British ships outside, for it had been reported to him; but he had already been in the port for twenty-four hours, and the laws of neutrality demanded that he either put to sea again or that his ship be interned.
Captain Koehler, of the Dresden, was a man of action. Therefore, he spurned the suggestion of having his ship interned. And his last words to the German consul, as he stepped aboard his ship and ordered that she be put to sea were:
“We are going to join our comrades!”
Well out of neutral waters, the Sylph and the Glasgow lay in wait for the enemy. Outside the port the Dresden attempted to flee; but, after an hour’s chase, Captain Koehler realized the futility of this, and, at last brought to bay, turned to fight.
In the action that followed, an action that lasted for more than two hours, the Dresden put up a terrific battle. But there could be but one end. Outnumbered, she fought well, but at length the waters of the calm Pacific closed over her.
“Only one left,” said Frank to Jack, as they stood upon the bridge after the sinking of the Dresden.
“Only one — the Karlsruhe.”
“And we’ll get her, too!” said Jack quietly.
Slowly the two British cruisers, the Sylph and the Glasgow, their damages having been repaired, turned their noses north, and set out on their search for the only German vessel remaining in American waters.
As they sail away over the mysterious Pacific we shall for a brief period take our leave of Frank Chadwick and Jack Templeton, than whom no more courageous lads (nor men, either, for that matter) engaged in the greatest war of all history.
But we shall meet them again; and, if the readers of this volume are interested in their further adventures and exploits, as well as in the personal side of the great war, they will find it all in the third volume of The Boy Allies with, the Battleships Series, entitled, “The Boy Allies with the Flying Squadron; or The Naval Raiders of the Great War.”
THE END