CHAPTER XXVIII

THE SEARCH

Standing on the sloping deck of the _Altaire_, sloping from a slight list the vessel had assumed because of a shift of the cargo, Jerry Hopkins and his fellow refugees stood for a moment looking at the strange and wonderful sight of the school of whales attacking the ship. Or, if not attacking, at least trying to ascertain by bumps of their huge heads the character of the strange creature in their midst. And as Jerry’s shout to use the bow gun rang out, there came another tremor of the vessel, caused by what seemed the hardest blow yet delivered.

“We’ve got to scare ’em off or kill some of ’em!” cried Jerry. “They may not intend any harm, but if they open some of our plates we’ll go down, sure!”

“What do you mean by the bow gun?” asked Bob.

“There’s a small gun up forward, put there to ward off submarine attacks, but it doesn’t seem to have done much good,” explained Jerry quickly. “It’s mounted on a swivel, and we can depress it and aim it in almost any direction. There are some shells too. I saw them when I was looking about before you came on board. If we give the whales a shot or two I’m sure they’ll go away.”

“We’ve got to do something!” muttered Bob. “Feel that!”

Again came a tremor of the ship--not one but several, as though a number of the whales had attacked at once, acting in concert against what they may have reasoned was a common enemy.

“Yes, let’s do something!” cried Judd. “I never saw anything like this in all my life, and I know something about whales. I never saw so many at once, and though I’ve known of them sinking small whaling vessels I never knew ’em to attack a big steamer. We’ve got to do something!”

“Then come on to the bow gun!” cried Jerry, and he raised his lantern from where he had lowered it over the side. The rays were still reflected from the wet and glistening backs of the whales as they swam about, now and then one butting his head against the steel sides of the _Altaire_.

Professor Snodgrass looked on in fascinated silence. And when Jerry removed the lantern, thus cutting off a further view of the immense creatures, the little scientist remarked with something like a sigh:

“I wish Dr. Hallet could see them.”

“Why, is he particularly interested in whales?” asked Bob.

“No, not whales particularly. But it would do him good to see these. It might be the very thing he needs!”

At the time Bob did not pay much attention to this remark. But afterward he thought it rather strange. If Dr. Hallet was not particularly interested in whales, why should Professor Snodgrass desire the other scientist to view them? And why would they do him “good”, if he had no special object in seeing them?

“I declare,” mused Bob, “the further you go into this thing the more mysterious it gets. I wonder what the real explanation of the feeling between Professor Snodgrass and Dr. Hallet is. I’ll wager we haven’t yet begun to get to the bottom of it!”

However, these thoughts came later. Just then the vital need of the moment was to deal with the whales, and this Jerry proposed to do by means of the bow gun.

Hurrying forward, carrying the lantern, while above them glowed the signal fires of distress, Bob, Jerry, and Judd came to the bow gun. It was of three-inch calibre, and capable of being aimed in any direction, and also pointed, at a sharp angle, almost directly into the water at either side of the bow of the ship. It could be trained aft, too, and as it was mounted high there was considerable radius of action allowed.

“Where’s the ammunition?” cried Bob, just as another whale took a head-on bang at the ship.

“In the box near the gun,” answered Jerry, putting down his lantern. The night was calm, and a moon gave some illumination now, having emerged from behind a cloud bank, so the three could see fairly well what they were doing. Professor Snodgrass, however, was not of the least service. When Jerry set the lantern down on the deck the little scientist took a position near it, and there he began making notes, whether about the whales or some minute insect, no one inquired.

The familiarity of Bob and Jerry with weapons of war stood them in good stead now. With the help of Judd they loaded the three-inch gun and aimed it into the midst of the school of whales, which were then congregated on the port side of the bow.

“Shall I fire?” asked Jerry, as he stood in readiness.

“Let her go!” called Bob.

There was a sharp report and the shell was sent into the midst of the whales. That it did execution was disclosed when the lantern was lowered over the side by means of a rope and the white, foaming water was seen to be red for a considerable area.

“They’ve sounded!” cried the sailor, giving information in this term that the whales had sunk below the surface. “I guess we’ve scared ’em off!”

But it was for a moment only. A little later there were bumpings and thumps on the other side of the craft, and the gun was again fired into the midst of the huge bodies. Once more the lantern showed red water, and then a commotion in the sea some distance away told the voyagers that the school of whales was departing. Several must have been killed and others wounded, the others being frightened off.

The bow gun was effective, for though a watch was kept the rest of the night there was no further trouble. The _Altaire_ drifted slowly on, and when morning dawned the refugees came up on deck and looked about the horizon for a sight of some rescuing craft.

“We have the whole place to ourselves,” remarked Jerry, grimly joking as he viewed the waste of waters.

“Yes, it isn’t a bit crowded,” agreed Bob. “Well, let’s have breakfast.”

In one sense the plight of the castaways was not at all bad. They had shelter, plenty of food, the weather was ideal, now that the fog had gone, and they were again clothed in their own garments which had dried out. Nor was there any great immediate danger. The period of long-continued storms had not yet come, their derelict, disabled as she was, was in fairly staunch condition, and unless some accident happened she might float for a long time.

“But we’ve got to get sail on her,” decided Jerry after a breakfast which was cooked by Bob and of which every one had an ample portion.

With the aid and advice of Judd something resembling a sail was hoisted and then the hand steering gear was connected up, after a fashion.

“Now we’re on our way!” cried Jerry, when the derelict began to move with considerable speed compared to her former progress. The wind was west, and was blowing them back toward France. But this was the best they could hope for. They could only sail directly before such breezes as might favor them. Navigation was out of the question.

So they settled down for a stay, of how long they knew not, on the derelict. Jerry had not had time to explore the craft much before the arrival of his friends, and this lack was now made up for, once the sail was set. It was found that the _Altaire_ had sailed from New York with a general cargo consigned to various English firms. And it was evident that she had been intercepted and partly looted by a German submarine. What had become of her crew and her passengers, if she carried any (and there were accommodations for a few) was problematical. But the _Altaire_ made a good sea home for the refugees.

While Bob, Jerry, Professor Snodgrass, and Judd were thus making the best of it on the derelict and eagerly watching for some vessel that might rescue them, Ned Slade and his fellow voyagers on the _Sherman_ were buoyed up with new hope as the word went cheeringly through the craft that the wireless was again working.

The snapping sparks of it had interrupted the talk between Ned and Dr. Hallet, and it was some time before they had a chance to renew the conversation.

For as soon as it became known that signals could again be sent out, giving the position of the disabled troopship and asking that aid be rushed, that was the only topic of moment among all on board.

“How soon will some ship come to our aid?”

Again and again the call was sent out into space, and in less than an hour there was a cheer from the vicinity of the wireless room.

“What’s that?” asked Ned of some of his soldier chums.

“They’ve received our calls!” cried a young lieutenant. “Three of Uncle Sam’s warships are racing toward us at top speed. Now we’re all right!”

And the good news was true. Working night and day, often at great personal risk, the engine room force had managed to rig up a boiler, get steam to an engine, and so whirl the dynamo that furnished the current for the powerful wireless spark. The operators had done the rest.

Forth into the air had gone the mystic signals, and this time they had been heard and understood by many receivers both on shore and at sea. It did not take long to flash the news to the proper quarters, and from Brest, the very port from which the _Sherman_ had departed, aid was rushed to her. The position was accurately given--as accurately as can be on a boundless sea--and the rest had to be left to fate.

In record-breaking time the rescuing convoy was sighted, and then joyous scenes took place on board the _Sherman_.

Soon after the first enthusiasm had worn off, though, the question arose as to what was the next thing to do. The war-weary soldiers wanted to get back home--to Uncle Sam’s country.

But this problem was easily solved. The war vessels had orders to take on board all the passengers and proceed with them to the United States. The _Sherman_ would be towed back to Brest for repairs, and on board her a crew would have to remain to look after the ship. Every one else, however, was transferred to one or another of the three war vessels that arrived about the same time. The baggage, too, was transferred, much to the satisfaction of the returning soldiers.

“Is there anything that can be done to see if Jerry and Bob are alive?” asked Ned of his captain, when they, together with their comrades and fellow officers, were on board the warship.

“Do you think it possible they may be alive?” the captain asked.

“Yes,” declared Ned, “improbable as it seems, I feel that Bob and Jerry, as well as Professor Snodgrass, are alive. Perhaps that missing sailor is, too. They may have been cast into the sea when the derelict crashed into us, and they may have managed to keep afloat either on some of the wreckage of the _Sherman_ that was torn off, or on a bit of the derelict. She was smashed, too, I believe. Can’t we make a search for Jerry and the others?”

“I’ll see,” said the captain. And he used his influence to such good advantage that it was soon after announced to Ned and others that before proceeding to America a search would be made by all three warships for the missing soldiers, the professor, and the sailor.

“We’s going to try to locate the derelict, too,” Ned’s captain told him. “Such craft are a terrible menace to other ships, and they are sunk wherever found. I am sorry to say no one but you seems to have much faith that we shall find your friends, but as a matter of precaution, if nothing else, a search will be made for the derelict. As she can only drift, and as Jerry and the others could only drift, in case they managed to keep afloat on some wreckage, it is possible we may find them in the vicinity of whatever vessel it was that crashed into us in the fog.”

And so the search began; a wearying and anxious search over the broad sea.