Excerpt
CHAPTER I WEIGHING ANCHOR FOR THE GREAT CRUISE
"It sounds like the greatest cruise ever!" declared Danny Grin, enthusiastically, as he rose and began to pace the narrow limits of the chart-room of the destroyer commanded by his chum, Lieutenant-Commander Dave Darrin.
"It is undoubtedly the most dangerous work we've ever undertaken," Darrin observed thoughtfully.
"All the better!" answered Dan lightly.
"In our drive against the submarines off the Irish coast," Dave continued, "we met perils enough to satisfy the average salt water man. But this——"
"Is going to prove the very essence and joy of real fighting work at sea!" Dan interposed.
"Oh, you old fire-eater!" laughed Darrin.
"Not a bit of a fire-eater," declared Dalzell with dignity. "I'm a business man, Davy. Our business, just now, is to win the war by killing Germans, and I've embarked upon that career with all the enthusiasm that goes with it. That's all."
"And quite enough," Darrin added, soberly. "I agree with you that it's our business to kill Germans, yet I could wish that the Germans themselves were in better business, for then we wouldn't have to do any killing."
"You talk almost like a pacifist," snorted Dan Dalzell.
"After this war has been won by our side, but not before, I hope to find it possible to be a pacifist for at least a few years," smiled Darrin, rising from his seat at the chart table.
Dan stood looking out through the starboard porthole. His glance roved over other craft of war tugging at their anchors in the goodly harbor of a port on the coast of England. As the destroyer swung lazily at her moorings the little port town came into view. On all sides were signs of war. Forts upreared their grim walls. Earthen redoubts screened guns that alert artillerymen could bring into play at a moment's notice. Overhead, dirigibles floated and airplanes buzzed dinfully to and fro.
Readers of the preceding volume in this series know how Dave Darrin came to be ordered to the command of the brand-new, big and up-to-the-minute destroyer, "Asa Grigsby," while Dan Dalzell, reaching the grade of lieutenant-commander, had been ordered to the command of the twin destroyer, "Joseph Reed."
At the door there sounded a knock so insistent that Darrin knew instantly that it was a summons. Springing from his chair, reaching for his uniform cap and setting it squarely on his head, he drew the curtains aside.
"Special signal for the 'Grigsby,' sir, from the flagship," reported an orderly.
Returning the young seaman's salute, Dave, with Dalzell close at his heels, darted up the steps to the bridge.
"Signal 'Ready to receive,'" was Darrin's command to his signalman, who stood waiting, signal flags in hand.
Rapidly the two flags moved, then paused. Dave's eyes, like Dan's, were turned toward the United States battleship that had lately acted as flagship for the destroyers and other small Yankee craft assembled in this port.
Brief indeed were the motions of the signalman on the bridge of the battleship, but the signal, translated, read:
"Proceed to sea in an hour, under instructions already received by you. Am proceeding to new station. Report to British admiral, this port, hereafter. No additions to these orders."
Instantly Darrin ordered the signal wigwagged back:
"Understood."
Immediately following this the flagship signalled the "Reed," Dan's ship, giving the same order, which Dan's executive officer, from the bridge of the other destroyer, acknowledged.
"Now, Darry, if you'll have your man signal for my gig," Dan urged, in a low voice, "I'll return to my ship. You and I are to cruise in company, as far as it may be done, and you are ranking officer. I am to part company from you only on your order."
"That is the admiral's order," Darrin acquiesced.
"Good-bye, old chap!" said Dan, with more than his wonted fervor, gripping his brother officer's hand. "And may we have the best of luck!"
"The best of a 'business' kind," smiled Dave.
"That's it!" laughed Dan, as he started down the steps....