The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Brighton Boys with the Submarine Fleet by James R. Driscoll

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Title: The Brighton Boys with the Submarine Fleet

Author: James R. Driscoll

Release Date: July 19, 2004 [EBook #12939]

Language: English

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH THE SUBMARINE FLEET ***

Produced by Jim Ludwig

THE BRIGHTON BOYS WITH THE SUBMARINE FLEET
by
Lieutenant James R. Driscoll

CONTENTS

CHAPTERS
    I. Good-by, Brighton
   II. Down in a Submarine
  III. Sealed Orders
   IV. Somewhere in the North Sea
    V. The German Raiders
   VI. Rammed by a Destroyer
  VII. In a Mine Field
 VIII. A Rescue
   IX. Vive La France!
    X. Attacked from the Sky
   XI. In the Fog
  XII. Yankee Camouflage
 XIII. The Survivors
  XIV. On the Bottom of the Sea
   XV. The Human Torpedo
  XVI. In the Wireless Station
 XVII. Up from the Depths
XVIII. In the Rat's Nest
  XIX. Capturing a U-Boat
   XX. The Mother Ship
  XXI. Trapped
 XXII. Yankee Ingenuity
XXIII. Out of the Net
 XXIV. Into Zeebrugge
  XXV. Chlorine Gas
 XXVI. The Stars and Stripes

CHAPTER I

GOOD-BY, BRIGHTON

"Wanted: young men to enlist in Uncle Sam's submarine fleet for service in European waters."

The magic words stood out in bold type from the newspaper that Jack Hammond held spread out over his knees. Underneath the caption ran a detailed statement setting forth the desire of the United States Government to recruit at once a great force of young Americans to man the undersea ships that were to be sent abroad for service against Germany.

Stirred by the appeal, Jack snatched the paper closer and read every word of the advertisement, his eyes dancing with interest.

"Your country needs you now!" it ran; and further on:

"The only way to win the war is to carry it right home to the foe!"

Below, in more of the bold type, it concluded:

"Don't delay a moment—-while you hesitate your country waits!"

From beginning to end Jack read the appeal again. Before his eyes in fancy flashed the picture of a long, lithe steel vessel skimming the ocean, captain and crew on the lookout for the enemy, the Stars and Stripes flapping from the tailrail. For an instant he imagined himself a member of the crew, gazing through the periscope at a giant German battleship—-yes, firing a torpedo that leaped away to find its mark against the gray steel hull of the foe!

Up in the dormitories some chap was nimbly fingering "Dixie" on the mandolin. The strains came down to the youth on the campus through the giant oak trees that half obscured the facade of "old Brighton." Over on the athletic field a bunch of freshmen "rookies" of the school battalion were being put through the manual of arms by an instructor. Jack could hear the command: "Present arms!"

"I guess that means me," he said to himself. And why not? Hadn't Joe Little and Harry Corwin and Jimmy Hill left school to join the aviation service? Weren't Jed Flarris and Phil Martin and a bunch of Brighton boys in Uncle Sam's navy? And hadn't Herb Whitcomb and Roy Flynn made history in the first-line trenches? Yes, the boys of Brighton were doing their bit.

In another moment Jack had crushed the newspaper into his pocket—-his decision made—-jumped from the bench under the old oak tree and was speeding across the campus in the direction of the main dormitory entrance. Without waiting for the elevator he leaped the steps, three at a time, running up to the third floor, and thence down the corridor to No. 63—-his "home," and that of his chum, Ted Wainwright.

Out of breath, he hurled himself into the room. Ted was crouched over the study table, algebra in front of him, cramming for an examination.

"There you are! Hip, hurrah!" Jack cried excitedly, thrusting the folded newspaper under Ted's eyes and pointing to the bold typed appeal for recruits, all the while keeping up a running fire of chatter.

Ted was in the midst of a tantalizing equation. He was accustomed, however, to such invasions on the part of his chum, the two having lived together now for nearly three school years—-ever since they had come to Brighton.

Both boys were completing their junior year in the select little school for which the town of Winchester was famous. They lived at remote corners of the state and had met during the first week of their freshman year. They had found themselves together that first night when the "freshies" were lined up before the gymnasium to withstand the attack of the "sophs" in the annual fall cane rush. Together they had fought in that melee, and after it was all over, anointed each other with liniment and bandaged each other's battle scars.

Jack was a spirited lad, ready always for a fight or a frolic, impetuous and temperamental; Ted had inherited his father's quiet tastes and philosophical views of life, looking always before he leaped, cautious and conservative. So, when Jack came bouncing in, gasping with excitement, Ted accepted the outburst as "just another one of chum's fits."

"What's all the grand shebang about this time?" he queried, shoving the algebra aside and taking up the newspaper that had been thrust upon him.

"I'm going—-I'm not going to wait another minute—-all the other fellows are going—-my grandfather fought through the Civil War—-it's me for the submarine fleet—-I'm off this very——-"

But before he could ramble any farther Ted took a hand in the oratory.

"What's the matter, chum? Flunked in anything, or been out to see a new movie show, have you?"

Jack ran his finger down the newspaper column to the advertisement for recruits.

"There you are!" he shouted. "And what's more, I'm going to sign up this very afternoon. What's the use of waiting any longer? Here's a great chance to get out with the submarines—-think of it!—-and, gee, wouldn't that be bully? Look! Look! What do you say, old boy; are you going with me?"

Jack's enthusiasm "got" Ted. Taking up the newspaper he read every word of the appeal, slowly, deliberately. Then he looked up at his chum.

"Do you mean it, Jack; are you in earnest?" he asked, after a long pause.

"Never meant anything so much in all my life," was Jack's quick rejoinder.

For an instant the two boys faced each other. Then out shot Ted's hand, clasping that of his room-mate in a firm grasp.

"Well, chum, I guess we've been pretty good pals now for nearly three years. You and I have always stuck together. That means that if you are going in, I'm going too!"

"Great!" bellowed Jack with a whack on the back that made Ted wince.
"Let's beat it quick for the recruiting station. Are you on?"

Hat in hand he bolted for the door, but stopped