CHAPTER IX.

THE NIGHT LANDING OF THE SCOUTS.

Another day saw the scouts feeling more like seasoned veterans. The motion of the vessel no longer had any terrors for the weakest among them, even though it chanced that in the afternoon the ocean began to get so rough that the boat fairly wallowed in the seas.

Luckily the commander had chosen to select the morning hours for the torpedo-launching practice, and it proved of considerable interest to the boys. They were on hand to see everything that was done, and they did not hesitate to ask many questions readily answered by the young men who made up the Reserve crew.

Hugh had cautioned the others to try and make good friends of the men who temporarily manned the _Vixen_, the vessel having been given completely over into their charge for the entire two weeks. This bore good fruit, and the wearers of the khaki suits had become prime favorites at every mess. Indeed, they were known to have already had considerable experience for boys, and of course it took very little urging to coax any one of them to relate some of the things that had come their way in the past, with which most of our readers are already familiar.

All of the scouts were really glad when night again set in, with half a gale blowing and the cruiser heading for an anchorage in a certain harbor.

“If this keeps up to-morrow, good-bye to our hopes of being set ashore on the coast,” Alec told several of the others as they gathered around some of the crew who were bent on having a pleasant evening, discipline having been relaxed for a spell in order to ease the strain under which they were laboring.

“Yes,” added Walter, “because they couldn’t take chances of launching a boat to land us without danger of a capsize in the surf. It’s nice and quiet back of this point, but you can hear the sea smashing up against the rocks out there right along.”

“But there’s no storm coming because Hugh told me he saw the barometer, and it reads well up to thirty, which means fair weather, though windy,” Don Miller went on to say, and the information brought fresh hope to the rest.

“Like as not the breeze will have gone down more or less before night sets in again,” Blake Merton gave as his opinion, though of course it was mere guesswork, as he did not pretend to be a weather prophet, and knew nothing, about the signs on the sea, even if he were something of a woodsman ashore.

“That’s a fact,” Alec remarked. “We don’t land till long after dark, I understand. So there’s plenty of time for it to quiet down.”

“And to-morrow Hugh says the commander promised that he’d give a try to see if our Arthur can be reached by wireless,” Billy announced with considerable pride. He had at various times assisted Arthur in perfecting his station on the crown of Cedar Hill, and Billy had some sort of proprietary rights in the wireless.

“Well, for the honor of the troop I certainly hope they get in touch with Arthur,” Alec observed. He showed signs of envy and jealousy at times, but when his old nature got the upper hand of him, the leader of the Otters was really proud of the organization to which he belonged, and would exert himself manfully in order to reflect credit on the name of a scout.

“More than that, Hugh says,” Billy went on, seeming to have been delegated to act as the mouthpiece of the scout master in order to convey all this important news. “The captain promised him that if we did our part of the landing game all right, he’d allow us to have half an hour’s talk with our comrade at home every day that the wireless could be used. So that’s a spur to make us try to do our best, fellows, to spy on the fort defenders, and get the information aboard without making mistakes.”

“Yes,” added Don, “and we ought to go into this business seriously, too. No careless handling of messages will pass when so much depends on accuracy. Every fellow must be up on his toes, and bent on doing his level best.”

“You are right there, Don,” echoed Blake Merton. “We want to show these Reserve men that scouts can do things right up to the handle. Our signal corps work was always first class. Just now I kind of wish we had Bud Morgan along, because he worked with a surveying party, too, you remember, and is familiar with the business.”

“Oh! don’t let that bother you any,” Alec told him jauntily. “There are others besides Bud Morgan who know the ins and outs of wigwag work, telegraphing, and the use of the mirror in the sun that we call heliographing. Why, there isn’t a fellow in our bunch aboard this boat but who can stand his spell with the flags, and make mighty few blunders, too.”

“Thank you, Alec, for the taffy,” chuckled Billy, “but we ought to be up in that sort of work. Goodness knows, we’ve practiced it enough. Hi! Blake, they’re calling for you to take your turn with a song. Somebody must have given them a tip that you’ve got Caruso beaten to a frazzle with that fine tenor voice you own. So step forward and remember to do the troop proud every time.”

Blake Merton certainly did have a good voice, and while somewhat bashful about singing in the midst of such a large company of young fellows, he soon got over his timidity. Indeed, they gave him so warm an ovation after he had sung once that he arose to the occasion, and from that time on became the most popular scout aboard the _Vixen_. His services were called for to entertain the crew every night after discipline had been relaxed while they sat around on deck enjoying the salty breeze.

To these boys from inland there was no end to the new sights and sounds of their first trip afloat on the briny sea. They enjoyed taking a salt-water bath whenever the opportunity arose, drank in the wonderful sight of the seemingly endless ocean bounded by the horizon, often on all sides, and in every way possible sought to get the utmost enjoyment from this novel experience.

It was still pretty rough outside the next morning, and the _Vixen_ remained comfortably anchored behind the point. There were numerous things to be done that could be carried out just as well there as at sea. Besides, the fort against which the Naval Reserve men had designs was not a great distance up the coast, so that the plans of the commander called for caution at this point in the war game.

It was a rather exciting time for the scouts when they gathered around the wireless operator, and watched him call the station of Cedar Hill. It was just at ten o’clock, the time Arthur had promised to be on hand every single day that it was not storming wildly.

There was more or less vain calling, and things began to look pretty blue when all at once there came a response. Every scout knew that some one was replying to the groping signal that the operator had sent out through space; and they only hoped that it might be their comrade a hundred miles away.

Presently the young operator looked up toward Hugh and said:

“Well, Old Brutus was poisoned last night by some mean party unknown!”

Now every fellow there knew just as well as anything that the old and faithful watchdog owned by the Cameron family was named Brutus; and this little piece of home news convinced them as nothing else could have done that they were in communication with Arthur perched up there at his station on dear old Cedar Hill.

To most of the boys this method of sending messages was a complete mystery, but there were several who had dabbled more or less in wireless, as some boys have a habit of wanting to know everything that comes along.

The operator was already aware that Hugh could send and receive messages after a fashion; he had talked with the scout master on several occasions, and even showed him many little things connected with this special outfit aboard the _Vixen_.

“He wants to know how you are all getting on,” the obliging operator remarked presently after another series of flashes and crackling had announced the receipt of another message. “Suppose you tell him yourself, Mr. Scout Master?”

So Hugh sat down, and with trembling hands transmitted his answer, the regular operator gladly assisting him. The boy’s confidence returned when he found that he was easily able to catch the strange dots and dashes as utilized in wireless work, and could even send a short message to far-away Arthur to the effect that they were all well.

He meant to make use of the code which had been arranged with Arthur should he have other opportunities to converse, which seemed likely. Then Alec asked for the privilege of exchanging a few words with Arthur, because he would never have been happy to have missed the glorious chance of saying he had once talked from a war vessel over a hundred miles away from the home town with the scout who had made his own wireless station.

The boys were allowed shore leave after the noon hour, being cautioned not to go out of sight of the boat. They were liable to be signaled to come aboard almost at any minute, should the commander decide to steam out of the harbor and continue the northward cruise. And with the recollection of what stirring times were ahead of them, there was little danger of any scout wandering off. Indeed, all they really did ashore was to roam the beach, wade in the shallows, hunt for pretty sea shells, and keep one eye anxiously fastened on the anchored _Vixen_, so as to discover the very first signal that would be hoisted to tell the boys to come aboard at once.

The night promised to be fairly dark, at least sufficiently so to cover the landing of the scouts from the cruiser. At three o’clock the anchor came up, and they steamed slowly out of the snug harbor to find that the sea had gone down, and nothing seemed to be in the way of making a successful landing when the proper time had arrived.

Hugh talked the whole thing over again with the captain, and received his final instructions. The scouts were each given some food to be taken along, since it was possible they might have to remain ashore until the storming party was put off to creep up the beach and try to surprise the garrison, who were constantly on the watch for signs of the enemy in either direction.

Charts of the coast had been shown the boys, and Hugh even made a rude map for his own guidance so that if in doubt he might consult it and shape his plans accordingly.

Again darkness came, with a young moon hanging in the western heavens. It would not set until about ten o’clock; and preparations had been made for sending a boat ashore soon after that hour containing all the scouts save Blake Merton, whom Hugh had finally selected as the receiving end of the signal chain because he was especially clever at this particular work.

When they dropped down over the side and huddled in the boat, the scouts felt their hearts beating much faster than ordinarily. Of course it might have been somewhat more exciting had there been a real enemy to be spied on instead of just a make-believe one, but for all that the sensation of having the success or failure of the whole maneuver depending on their work gave each boy a feeling of vast importance.

Almost noiselessly the oars dipped into the water, and they headed for the shore not more than a quarter of a mile away from where the cruiser was anchored. Finally through the darkness they could begin to distinguish objects faintly as the trees were outlined against the sky. Then they entered the gentle surf, and presently the keel of the boat ran up on the sand.

“Steady now, and no hurrying!” warned Hugh softly. The six other scouts proceeded to clamber out of the boat as silently as they could, after which it put back to where the one light aboard the _Vixen_ showed her anchorage.

“Now for a tramp along the beach of a couple of miles,” said Hugh, “and remember there’s to be no talking above a whisper. I understand that the defenders of the fort may have men out on the watch. Forward now, and move along like ghosts.”