CHAPTER XXI

THE S. O. S. FROM THE “GRISWOLD”

“Belle on her way, and due soon to arrive!” Dave Darrin cried, joyously, as he read the cablegram that had been handed to him on his arrival at the American admiral’s headquarters.

That cablegram had lain there for days, having arrived the same forenoon that Darrin had put to sea on the voyage of the “Prince” with Dalzell in command.

Belle was his wife, his schoolboy sweetheart, whom he had not seen in many months. He had known that she was trying to induce the Red Cross authorities to send her to France, but had had no word to the effect that she had been successful.

Now he knew, from the number by which the expected ship was designated in the cablegram, that she was on the passenger liner “Griswold.”

“When is the ‘Griswold’ due?” Dave asked a clerk at headquarters.

“Arrival date hasn’t been reported,” answered the clerk, “but it should be in to-day. I’ve an idea, sir, that the ‘Griswold’ cannot be far out now.”

“Your sailing orders, Darrin!” hailed a staff officer, walking briskly up and holding out a bulky envelope.

“Do I have a few days in port?” Dave inquired, hopefully.

“Sorry to say that you do not. You are required to drop out with the tide at four this afternoon.”

“Very good,” nodded Dave, pleasantly, though he did deeply regret that he could not have a few days in port. He must miss meeting Belle, who was bound for this same port.

“Your orders, too, Dalzell,” continued the staff officer, handing Dan an envelope of appearance similar to that which Darrin had received.

“Sailing orders for to-day for me, too?” he grinned.

“Same time as Darrin’s,” and the staff officer had hurried away.

While the friends had been out on their last cruise two big, new destroyers, lately commissioned, had arrived from the United States.

To Darrin and Dalzell, in recognition of their fine work against submarines, had fallen the commands of these new sea terrors.

The “Asa Grigsby” was Dave’s new craft; to Dan had fallen the “Joseph Reed.”

Ordinarily Dave would have been glad of his fine new command and prompt sailing orders. Now, he wished regretfully that he could have had a few days ashore. That he might meet the “Griswold” at sea, of which there was not more than half a chance, meant little to him. He would, in that case, pass the ship on which Belle journeyed, but that would mean nothing.

“Oh, well, it’s war-time,” Dave sighed, when Dan expressed sympathy. “A few years of war, you know, and then a man will have a chance to see his home folks again, once in a while.”

“It’s tough, that’s what it is,” answered Dan, sympathetically.

“No, it isn’t even that,” Dave rejoined, quickly. “There are thousands of men at sea on ships who may not see their wives again unless we chaps do our duty all the time. There are scores of women on the sea whose husbands will never see them again if we sleep or lag. The men of the destroyer fleet have no right to think of their own pleasure or convenience. I’m ready for sea, and I pray for a busy and successful cruise against the enemy!”

Only from the deck of the “Prince” had the two chums seen their new craft. Now they went down the hill toward the harbor, ready to report and take over their ships.

It was the first time during the war that the two chums had sailed separately. It was also Dan Dalzell’s first regular command, for the “Prince” had been handed over to him only on temporary detail.

“We’ll miss each other, Danny-boy,” cried Dave, regretfully, as the chums gripped each other’s hands at the quay. “We’ve been used to sailing together.”

“We can have a radio talk once in a while,” Dan returned glumly.

“Yes, but we’re supposed to talk by radio only on official matters.”

“We can at least find out when we’re near each other.”

After they had entered their respective gigs, and had started toward their craft, the chums waved hands toward each other.

Then Darrin, turning his thoughts to duty, tried to forget his disappointment over his inability to meet Belle.

Going up over the side of the “Grigsby,” Dave was greeted by the watch officer. Then his new executive officer, Lieutenant Fernald, reported to him and greeted him. Dave’s baggage was taken to the commanding officer’s quarters, and he followed to direct his new steward in the unpacking.

This done, Darrin went out on deck and ordered all officers and men assembled that he might take over the command formally by reading the orders assigning him to the “Grigsby.”

This formality over, Dave sent a messenger after one petty officer whom he had observed in the crew. A boatswain’s mate came promptly, saluted and reported.

“I noted your face, Runkle, and I’m glad indeed to see you on this ship,” Darrin informed him, heartily.

“I’m glad to hear you say that, sir,” replied Runkle, with another salute. “I was ordered to this craft only this forenoon, sir.”

“Yes; I’m glad to have you aboard, Runkle, for I remember that I’ve had some of my best luck when you were at hand. I think I shall have to appoint you my personal mascot,” Darry laughed.

“I’ll be that, or anything else that will serve, sir,” Runkle declared, gravely, his face flushing with pleasure over Dave’s cordiality.

“This is a fine new craft, Runkle.”

“Yes, sir; one of the two best destroyers that the United States has put in commission since the war began. I’m eager, sir, to see the best that the ‘Grigsby’ can do.”

“The best that the ‘Grigsby’ and her complement can do,” Dave Darrin amended.

Then, accompanied by the executive officer, Darrin started on a tour of inspection of the “Grigsby.”

“It seems a shame, doesn’t it,” Dave asked, “to think that a magnificent craft like this, costing a huge fortune, can be destroyed in a moment by contact with a single torpedo fired from some sneaking German submarine.”

“But it seems just as good the other way, sir, to think that such a craft as this can, perhaps, sink a dozen of the submarines before she meets her own fate.”

“I never fully appreciated before this war what war to the hilt meant,” Dave went on, thoughtfully. “Of course I knew that it spelled ‘death’ for many of the fighters, but it also means the destruction of so much property, the ruining of so much material that the world needs for its comfort! The world will be hard up, for a century to come, on account of the waste of useful materials caused by this war’s destructiveness.”

“But may the ‘Grigsby’ do her share of that destructive work!” said Lieutenant Fernald, fervently. “The property that we destroy belongs to those who would set the world back a thousand years!”

“I’m afraid we must go on destroying enemy property, and our own, too, in accomplishing harm to the enemy, Mr. Fernald. The more swiftly we destroy, the sooner our struggles against the German madmen will be ended!”

All was in readiness to sail. Punctually to the minute the “Grigsby” and the “Reed,” with anchors up, began to move out of the harbor. Both had their general orders as to the course to be followed, the length and duration of the cruise, too, with discretion as to changing their orders in emergencies such as might arise.

Hardly had they put out from port when the “Grigsby” and the “Reed” parted company.

For the first hour Darrin, following orders, ran at full speed, then slowed down to cruising speed. Night came upon the waters, with a crescent moon off in the western sky.

“And somewhere out on this wide waste, somewhere west of here, probably, is the ‘Griswold,’ with Belle aboard. And, unless she has liberty to remain in port, I shall not see her in months, perhaps, or maybe in years.”

Dave put the thought aside. He was out again in the haunts of the assassins of the sea; out, also, in the track of vessels bringing men and supplies for the world’s greatest fight. Disappointed as he was over the impossibility of meeting Belle, he realized how small his own affairs were as compared with the fate of the world.

At midnight he went below, for he had confidence in the new junior officers whom he had met to-day, and he wanted to be awake and on the bridge again just before dawn. So, leaving orders for his calling, he went below to his quarters.

And there he slept, dreaming of Belle, undoubtedly, until an hour before dawn, when an orderly entered hurriedly, shaking him hard by the shoulder.

“Message from liner ‘Griswold,’ sir, reports by radio that she has just dodged torpedo fired by submarine that is still following.”

“The ‘Griswold!’” echoed Darrin, awaking instantly and leaping to his feet. “You’re sure of the name?”

“Yes, sir!”

Dave pulled on rubber boots and snatched his cap and sheepskin coat.

Then, a second orderly reported:

“S. O. S. from ‘Griswold’, sir! Just struck and believed to be in sinking condition!”