CHAPTER XVII
AT TORPEDO TARGET PRACTICE
"Hello, Dan."
Sam Hickey peered over the edge of his hammock in the early morning.
"What is it?" answered Davis sleepily.
"I wonder whether we have missed reveille."
"What's that?" Dan sat up very suddenly.
"I thought that would fetch you awake in a hurry," chuckled thered-headed boy, snuggling down under his bedclothes, one eye peeringover at his companion.
"That's mean of you, to wake me up so early in the morning," grumbledDan. "I was having such a fine sleep, too. I was dreaming----"
"I was dreaming. I'll bet I had a better dream than you did. Idreamed I was the captain of the 'Long Island,' with four gold stripesaround my sleeve. Then I woke up. That was too fine a dream to sleepover very long at a time."
"Pipe down the guff," growled several voices from the depths of otherhammocks. "What do you think this is--a pink tea?"
"No; it's a deck picnic," answered Sam, as the bugle blew the reveille,summoning all hands from their hammocks. The men in the corridor withthe Battleship Boys scrambled down from their hammocks in no enviableframe of mind, for Hickey had spoiled at least five minutes of theirsleep, which was of no small consequence at that hour of the morning.Sam seized his clothes and ran for the shower bath, anxious to get hisbath over before the men of his division got there. They were not in apleasant frame of mind, and the boy considered it prudent to keep clearof them until they "got their eyes open," as he expressed it to himself.
The early morning work was finished up and then came breakfast. Bythis time the battleship was swinging along past Fire Island light.The sea was fairly calm and the sun was shining brightly.
"I wonder what we are going to do up here?" questioned a jackie, asthey were at their breakfast.
"Up here? Where are we headed for!" demanded Sam. "Looks to me as ifwe were going to butt into a sand bank, the way the ship was headedwhen I came below."
"I think we are going into Fort Pond Bay," answered someone.
"Never heard of the place. Is it a pond?" asked Hickey innocently.
"Hear the landlubber talk. Yes, red-head, it's a pond; asloppy-weather pond with the current so swift at times that if you wereto go swimming in it, you'd want your port and starboard anchors outall the time."
"What are we going to do in the pond?"
"The Old Man hasn't taken me into his confidence yet," scoffed asailor. "I am expecting to hear from him most any time now."
"Ordering you to appear at mast court, eh?" questioned Sam maliciously.
"That'll be about all for you, red-head."
"Better look out or Dynamite will be mixing it up with you," warnedanother. "Won't you, Dynamite?" nodding at Dan.
"I think I have had all the mixing-up that I want," answered Davis,with a short laugh. "If you don't believe it, just look at thisbandage on my head."
"Yes, Dynamite's a sore head," suggested a shipmate. "I'd be willingto trade heads with you, if what's in yours could go with it."
At this there was a laugh all around the table. Dan blushed. He didnot like these broad compliments. But, to Dan Davis' credit, be itsaid that, instead of making him conceited, they served quite theopposite purpose. They made him the more determined to merit the goodthings that were said of him.
"Torpedo practice to-day," announced a sailor, coming in at thatjuncture from his watch on deck.
"What range?" asked some one.
"I hear it is a four-thousand-yard range."
"That will give us all a chance to go out for a row."
"For what?" questioned Sam.
"For the exercise, red-head. We jackies never have anything to do, youknow, so they have to send us out for a row, now and then."
"We don't have to row in a common whaleboat or a cutter. We've gotsomething better in which to row," retorted Hickey.
"Got something better?"
"Yes."
"Maybe you're going to run the captain's motor boat."
"No; not yet. Maybe we'll be doing that later. Just now we're goingto content ourselves with the gig."
"The gig!"
"Sure thing."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the racing gig. Didn't you know Dan and myself weremembers of the racing crew now?"
"No; I didn't know anything of the sort. You kids on the crew? That'sa joke. If we fellows who have been in the service a year or two geton the crew we think we're lucky."
"Is that right, Davis?" spoke up one of the men further down the table.
"Partly, Bob. We have been chosen for a tryout. We may make such amiserable failure of it that they will put us out of the boat after thefirst practice spin."
"I'm not so sure about the red-head, but I'll risk your making a messof anything that you try," answered the jackie addressed as Bob. "Iwon't say you're lucky, for the good things generally go to them thatdeserve them," continued the sailor wisely. "Leastwise, that's been myobservation. I notice not many of them have ever come my way, though.What oars are you going to pull?"
"I can't say, Bob. That depends upon Mr. Harper."
Envious glances were directed upon the Battleship Boys from all partsof the mess.
"I know how they happened to get in for a try-out," announced a memberof the mess. "Black and White were to row in the crew. Instead,they'll be holding down the deck of the brig for the next thirty days."
"I was in there once," said Sam, with a grin that brought a shout oflaughter.
"A fellow doesn't know what the sailor's life is like unless he gets inthe brig."
"I think I should be satisfied without knowing, then," answered Dan."I came pretty close to it once. That was enough for me."
By the time the jackies had finished their breakfast the "Long Island"was plowing into Fort Pond Bay, and an hour later her starboard anchorwas let go. The ship's prow swung into the tide. The decks werethronged with sailors cleaning ship, while others were getting thesmall boats ready for the work of the day. It was a busy scene, one inwhich the Battleship Boys evinced the keenest interest, for they hadnever seen torpedo practice before. Dan had some knowledge of theoperation of these weapons of modern warfare, but he was anxious to seethe torpedoes fired.
First, the two steamers were swung out and lowered to the water, wherethey were made secure to the lower booms. The captain's motor boatcame next. Two officers went off in her to place the target for thetorpedo practice. This was nothing more than a bamboo fish pole with ared flag secured to it.
The target was planted in a shallow place in the bay off near the shoreof Gardiner's Island, after they had measured off the course, adistance of four thousand yards from the ship. It was not intendedthat the torpedoes should hit the target, which was placed merely as aguide for the ordnance officer to fire at. Coming within a hundredfeet of it, either way, would be considered pretty good shooting.
In the meantime the torpedo officer was far down in the hold of theship, in the torpedo room, getting ready the huge, fish-like monstersfor the flight they were soon to take. There were six of the deadlyinstruments of warfare down there. Dan would have liked to go below tosee how the torpedoes were fired by compressed air, but his dutieswould not permit him to do so.
"Seaman Hickey and Davis report for signal duty!" called a boatswain'smate.
"That's us," nodded Dan. "I guess we are going out. That will befine."
"Man the small boats and patrol the torpedo course," commanded anofficer from the bridge. "Davis, you will go out with the motor boat.Hickey, remain on board for signal duty here. We will put some of yourclass in the small boats, and distribute them along the course,"ordered a quartermaster.
Dan's class in wig-wag work had made marvelous progress. They were nownearly as proficient in signal work as had been the regular signalcorps, who were working on one of the other ships some five miles tothe northeast from where the "Lon
g Island" lay. None of Dan's men hadworked at such long range before. He was glad, therefore, that he hadbeen assigned to go out on the range, for he could keep a watchful eyeon his men. He had perfect confidence in Sam. The station Hickey hadwas very important, for he was to receive messages and to send messagesto all the small boats of the fleet.
"Now, all small boats keep clear of the torpedo course, so that none ofyou get hit. Don't fall in too soon after the torpedo goes by. Wewant the course kept clear so that we can follow it with our glasses.Take your places on the range."
The two steamers whistled shrilly, as, with a procession of small boatsin tow, they started out over the course.
"Hickey, take your place abaft of the bridge, within hailing distanceof the commanding officer," ordered the quartermaster.
Sam stationed himself by the side of the box where the signal flagswere kept, and, leaning against it, focused his spyglass on the rapidlyreceding small boats.
"Up starboard anchor!" commanded the executive officer.
Anchor chains rattled as the huge anchor was slowly raised from thesandy bottom of the bay. The torpedoes were to be fired while the shipwas under full speed.
"Once over the course, then fire on the return," ordered the captain."Port, fire first."
"Aye, aye, sir."
The battleship completed her course at right angles to the course overwhich the torpedo was to be fired, then swung about.
"Full speed ahead, both engines. Raise the red flag."
The firing signal was hoisted to the peak.
"Are you ready, Mr. Ordnance Officer?"
"All ready, sir."
"Sound a long blast on the siren."
The weird voice of the siren shrieked its warning over the waters,while the prow of the battleship was rolling up a great white wave asthe ship raced along at full speed.
"Fire!" came the quick word of command.
The ordnance officer pressed a button, his eyes on the target.
A dull, muffled explosion followed.