The Boy Scouts for Uncle Sam

CHAPTER I.

THE EAGLES AT HOME

"After all, fellows, it's good to be back home again."

The speaker, Rob Blake, leader of the Eagle Patrol of Boy Scouts, spoke with conviction. He was a "rangy," sun-burned lad of about eighteen, clear-eyed, confident and wiry. His Boy Scout training, too, had made him resourceful beyond his years.

"Yes, and it's also good to know that we each have a good substantial sum of money in the bank as the result of the finding of the Dangerfield fortune," agreed Merritt Crawford, his second in command, a sunny-faced, good-natured looking youth a little younger than Rob and crowned with a tousled mass of wavy brown hair.

"Well, at any rate we've had plenty to eat since we've been back," chimed in Tubby Hopkins, a corpulent youth who owed his nickname to his fleshiness.

"That's right, Tubby," laughed Paul Perkins, another bright-eyed young "Eagle"; "that's something we didn't always get in the Adirondacks. I thought at one time that you'd fade away to a shadow."

"Humph! Pretty substantial sort of shadow," grinned Hiram Nelson, who, besides Paul Perkins, was the inventive genius of the Eagles.

The scene of these reminiscences was the comfortably furnished patrol room of the Eagles, situated over the bank of the little town of Hampton on the south shore of Long Island. Rob Blake's father, the president of the bank, was a patron of the Eagles, and had donated the room to the boys some time before.

Boxing gloves, foils, baseball bats and other athletic apparatus dear to a boy's heart lay scattered about the room in orderly confusion. On the walls were diagrams of the "wig-wag code" and the "Morse code simplified," with other illustrations of Scout activities.

But it was above the door that there was perched the particular pride of the Eagles' hearts – a huge American eagle, a bird fast disappearing from its native haunts. With outstretched wings and defiant attitude it stood there, typifying the spirit of its young namesakes. The eagle had been a present to the lads from Lieutenant Duvall, of the United States Army, whom they had materially aided some time before in various aerial intrigues and adventures. What these were was related in full in the "The Boy Scouts and the Army Airship."

In the first volume of this series, "The Boy Scouts of the Eagle Patrol," it was told how the boys came to organize, and how they succeeded in unravelling a kidnapping mystery, involving one of their number. In the second volume, "The Boy Scouts on the Range," we followed the boys' adventures in the far southwest. Here they encountered Moqui Indians and renegade cow-punchers. But through all their hardships and adventures they conducted themselves according to the Scout laws.

The third volume was "The Boy Scouts and the Army Airship," referred to in connection with Lieutenant Duvall. In this book a military biplane played an important part, as did the theft of a series of plans of a gyroscope invention of Lieutenant Duvall's, who was an all-around mechanical genius.

In the story that preceded the present account of the Eagle Patrol the lads found themselves in the Adirondacks on a strange mission. With a certain Major Dangerfield, a retired army officer, they searched for a lost cave in which an old-time pirate, one of the Major's ancestors, had hidden his loot when Indians threatened him. How the cave was located and the startling discovery made there, we have not space to describe here. But in the wildest part of the "land of woods and lakes" the boys encountered some thrilling adventures, not the least of which was Rob's battle with the moonshining gang that infested a lonely canyon.

From this trip they had returned not more than two weeks before the scene in the meeting-room, which we have described, took place. Bronzed, clear-eyed and alert, they were already longing for action of some sort. How soon they were to be plunged into adventures of a variety even more exciting than any they had yet encountered they little dreamed at the moment.

They were still laughing over the idea of the substantial Tubby's rotund form being compared to a shadow when there came a tap at the door of the room in which they were assembled.

"Guess that's Andy Bowles," said Rob, referring to the only member of the Patrol who was not present; "wonder why he's so late."

Then, in a louder voice, he cried:

"Come in, Andy."

But the voice that answered as the door was flung open was not Andy's. Instead, it was a deep, resounding bass one.

"I'm not Andy; but I'll accept the invitation."

As the owner of the voice, a tall, well-set-up man with a military bearing, stepped into the room all the Scouts sprang erect at attention, and gave the Scout salute. Then they broke into three cheers.

"Why, Lieutenant Duvall, what are you doing here?" exclaimed Rob, coming forward.

The young officer shook hands warmly with the leader of the Boy Scouts. Then, while the others pressed closer to the lieutenant – the same officer who had conducted the aviation tests at the "tunnelled house" – he addressed Rob.

"The fact is, I came down here to see if you are willing to tackle some more adventures," he said.

"Are we – " began Rob; but a roar from the Scouts interrupted him.

"Just you try us, Lieutenant."

"More adventures? Great stuff!"

"I'm ready right now."

"You can count on me."

The air fairly bubbled with confusion and excitement.

The Lieutenant roared with laughter.

"I do believe if you boys were told to lead a forlorn hope up to a row of machine guns you'd do it," he exclaimed; "but all this time I've been leaving my friend outside. May I bring him in?"

"Why ask the question?" exclaimed Rob. "This room is at the disposal of the United States Army at any time."

"Well, in this case it must be at the disposal of the Navy also," smiled the officer. Then, turning his head, he called to someone outside in the hallway, "Dan, the Eagles are prepared to receive the Navy."

At the word, a stalwart young man of about Lieutenant Duvall's age, stepped into the room. He was deeply sun-burned, and had an alert, upright carriage that stamped him as belonging to Uncle Sam's service.

"Scouts of the Eagle Patrol," said Lieutenant Duvall, with becoming formality, "allow me to present to you Ensign Daniel Hargreaves, of the United States Navy, just now detailed on special service."

Once more came the Scout salute, and then, given with a will, the long drawn "Kr-e-e-ee" of the Eagles.

The naval officer's eyes twinkled.

"These are Eagles that can scream with a vengeance," he exclaimed to his companion.

"Yes; and they can show their talons on occasion, I can assure you," declared Lieutenant Duvall. "But 'heave ahead,' as you say in the Navy, Dan, and put your proposition before them."

The boys greeted this announcement with wide-open eyes. Somehow or other they felt impressed immediately that they were on the verge of another series of important adventures; that the unexpected visit of the officers had something to do with their immediate future. And in this they were not the least bit out of the way, as will be seen.

CHAPTER II.

THE FACE AT THE TRANSOM

"Of course what I am going to say will be held strictly confidential?" began Ensign Hargreaves, looking about him at the bright, eager faces of the young Eagles.

"We are Boy Scouts, sir," responded Rob proudly.

"I beg your pardon; but what I am going to say is so important to the nation that one word of it breathed abroad might cause endless complications and the ruin of certain plans. I have come to see you because my friend, Lieutenant Duvall, told me that he did not know anywhere in the country of a band of boys of similar resourcefulness, courage and high training."

"That's going some," whispered Tubby, behind a plump hand, to Merritt Crawford.

"I said no more than they deserved, Dan," observed Lieutenant Duvall.

"So I should imagine from what you told me about the part they played in the matter of the biplane and the tunnelled house," responded the young officer. "I came to you for another reason, also," he went on reverting to the subject in hand; "I have heard that as well as being land scouts you are thoroughly at home on the water."

"Well," said Rob, "we've all of us been brought up here on the south shore. I guess we are all fair sailors and know something about sea-scouting as well as the land variety."

"It is mainly for that reason that I came to you," rejoined the naval officer. "For the mission which I am desirous to have you undertake a knowledge of sea conditions is essential."

"Gee! He's a long time coming to the point," mumbled Tubby impatiently.

"Have any of you boys ever heard of the 'Peacemaker submarine'?"

"So called because the nation possessing it would be so formidable as to insure naval peace with other countries?" exclaimed Rob quickly. "Yes, sir, I've heard of it."

"What has reached your ears about it?"

"Why, a week ago the papers said that a submarine of that type had been sold to Russia and shipped for that country from the factory of the inventor at Bridgeport, Connecticut," said Rob, with growing wonder as to what all this could be leading.

"Correct. But that submarine never reached Russia!"

"Did the ship that was carrying it sink?" asked Tubby innocently.

"No," smiled the ensign, amused at the fat boy's goggling eyes and intent expression; "the Long Island, the freighter conveying it, did not sink. Instead, it hung about the coast, and then, under cover of fog, slipped into the harbor of Snug Haven on the South Carolina coast. Snug Haven is a small place and a sleepy one. Under the blanket of fog the Long Island slipped in, as I have said. Then the submarine was hoisted overboard by means of a derrick, and under her own power run to anchorage off a small island not far from Snug Haven. The captain and crew of the Long Island were sworn to secrecy, and so far as we know not a soul, but those directly interested, is aware of the present location of the Peacemaker."

"But why, if the submarine was sold to Russia, was she not sent there?" inquired the mystified Rob.

"For the excellent reason that she was not sold to Russia at all," was the naval officer's rejoinder; "that was simply announced for the benefit of inquisitive newspapers who have been trying for a long time to get at the details of the 'Peacemaker submarine.' But it is not alone the newspapers we have had trouble with. Foreign spies, anxious to secure the Peacemaker for their governments, have harassed us at Bridgeport ever since the keel plates were laid."

"Then the United States has bought the submarine?" asked Merritt Crawford.

"Not yet. But the construction and principles of it are so efficient that Uncle Sam wishes to have first call on the craft."

"And you are going to test it at this lonely island in South Carolina?" cried Rob, guessing the truth.

"Perfectly right, my boy," was the response. "Off that little-frequented coast, beset with islands and shoals, we hope to carry out our tests unobserved. At Bridgeport this would have been an impossibility, and for that reason the story of the sale to Russia was concocted. Russia, I may add, was about the only country not represented by spy service at Bridgeport."

"And you say that nobody but the officials directly connected with the craft has any knowledge of its whereabouts?" asked Rob with deep interest.

"As far as it is humanly possible to be certain, such is our positive belief."

"But where do we fit into all this?" sputtered Tubby, acutely coming to the main point.

"I am coming to that," was the response. "From what I have told you, you will have gathered that no ordinary class of watchmen could be trusted to keep quiet about what is to go forward on the island. Yet it is necessary to have sentries of some sort to keep constant watch that no one approaches unexpectedly. For that purpose we have adopted various mechanical precautions, such as submarine detector bells, etc. But our main reliance must be on human intelligence."

"I see," said Rob, nodding. The object of the officer's visit was beginning to dawn on him.

"To come straight to the point," went on the officer, "how would you boys like to take a camping trip to the South Carolina coast on Uncle Sam's service?"

"You mean to act as guards to the submarine?" almost shouted Rob.

"Just that," responded the officer. "I have – "

But a roar of cheers drowned any further remarks he might have had to make.

"I knew it would happen," cried Merritt when the riot had, in a measure, subsided.

"What?" demanded Tubby.

"Action!" responded Merritt briefly.

The hubbub grew tumultuous. All the Eagles were trying to talk at once. The wonderful prospect opened up before them of fresh adventures fairly set them wild.

At last, above the turmoil, Ensign Hargreaves managed to make his voice heard.

"Boys! Boys!" he exclaimed, "one minute till I outline the plans."

A respectful silence at once ensued in which each Scout was prompt to join.

"Of course, it will be necessary for you to obtain written consent of your parents," spoke the naval officer.

At this some of the faces in the room fell several degrees.

"The government will absolutely require such authority," he continued. "The service on Barren Island, as it is called, while not necessarily hazardous, may prove dangerous, and each boy's parents must be so informed."

"We'll get plenty to eat, I suppose?" inquired Tubby anxiously.

"Why, of course," laughed the officer; "moreover, I forgot to inform you that there is a wireless plant on the Island, and other conveniences unusual in so remote a situation."

"Well, so long as the grub holds out, I'm satisfied," muttered Tubby in a contented tone.

"How soon will we start, supposing our parents allow us to go?" asked Rob, as soon as the laughter over Tubby's remark had subsided.

"At the end of this week if possible. Mr. Danbury Barr, the inventor of the Peacemaker, will meet us in New York. We shall voyage south on the U. S. Derelict Destroyer Seneca."

"Derelict Destroyer," repeated Rob. "Those are the craft that Uncle Sam sends out to destroy drifting wrecks that might prove a menace to navigation, aren't they?"

"Correct, my boy," rejoined the officer. "Our reason for making the voyage on the Seneca," he continued, "is that no regular passenger steamer makes a stop near Barren Island. Furthermore, if we went down on a naval vessel some of these sharp reporters would be sure to make inquiries, with the result that our retreat might be discovered."

"And that would be a serious matter?" put in Rob.

"Yes, very serious. Several nations are on the qui vive to discover just what the Barr Peacemaker is. They have sent shrewd, cunning men, versed in the art of espionage, to this country on that mission. These men will stick at nothing to ferret out the secret if they can. Mr. Barr has been approached with all sorts of offers. But he is a staunch American to the backbone, as you will discover when you meet him. If anyone is to have the Peacemaker it is to be Uncle Sam, first, foremost and all the time."

"Kree-e-ee-ee!" shrilled the Boy Scouts of the Eagle Patrol in unison.

The sharp, screaming note of the Eagle was still resounding when Merritt uttered a startled cry, and pointed to the open transom above the door. The others were still staring at him when he darted toward it and flung the portal open. The passage beyond was empty, and the boy turned to his companions with a puzzled look on his face.

"What's up, Merritt?" asked Rob.

"Seeing spooks?" inquired Tubby.

"Seeing nothing," snapped out Merritt; "I saw– "

"Saw what?" demanded Lieutenant Duvall.

"A face peering at us over that transom. It dodged into the darkness as I looked up, but I saw it as plain as daylight."

Both officers bent forward almost breathlessly. Merritt's communication appeared to affect them strangely.

"What kind of a face was it?" demanded Ensign Hargreaves.

"A wild looking one. Very pale, and fringed with dark whiskers."

The effect on the officers was electrical. They both sprang up and made for the door followed by the puzzled Scouts.

"Was – was it anyone you know?" demanded Rob, as he paced beside Lieutenant Duvall.

"Yes. From the description it was Berghoff, the spy of a powerful European nation whose ambition it is to outgeneral all other powers on the sea. We must apprehend him if possible. It is only too clear that he followed us here from Washington and must have heard a great part of our conversation."

"Phew! This is action with a capital A!" gasped Rob as they ran down the stairway and out into the lighted street.

But although a rigorous search was made and all trains watched, no trace was found of Nordstrom Berghoff, the naval spy. It was surmised that he must have made good his escape in a speedy "roadster" car in which he had crept into Hampton earlier in the evening.

CHAPTER III.

AN OCEAN DERELICT

"What's that object off on the starboard bow, sir?"

It was a week after the events narrated in the preceding chapters, and the Seneca, a converted gun-boat fitted with torpedo tubes for the destruction of derelicts, was plowing her way southward through an azure sea under a cloudless sky.

Rob Blake asked the question. In full Boy Scout Leader's uniform, and wearing the different badges to which he was entitled, the young chief of the Eagles stood on the Seneca's bridge with Ensign Hargreaves and Lieutenant Murray, who were in command of the destroyer.

"Jove, lad, you have sharp eyes!" exclaimed Lieutenant Murray. "Even the lookout has not yet spied it. Let's see what it may be. Possibly it's our 'meat' – food for our torpedoes."

"In that case the boys are in for a bit of excitement," said Ensign Hargreaves.

"You think it is a derelict!" exclaimed Rob. "Oh, boys!" he called down to the shady deck below, where the other lads lay reading or writing letters or studying the Scout Manual, "we've sighted a derelict."

"An ocean hobo, eh?" hailed back Merritt.

"Hold on! Hold on! Not so fast!" laughed Lieutenant Murray.

He took his powerful naval binoculars from their case and carefully focussed them on the dot which Rob's sharp eyes had espied at so great a distance.

"You are right, Master Rob," he exclaimed the next instant; "it is a derelict, and a big one, too."

"And you are going to blow it up?" asked Rob, his voice quivering with excitement.

"That's our business, lad."

"Hooray! Boys, stand by for the fireworks!" shouted the delighted Rob.

The Boy Scouts, who had pretty well the run of the ship and were favored alike by officers and men, came swarming upon the bridge. Lieutenant Murray was adjusting the range finders and directing the quartermaster at the wheel to change his course so as to bear down on the drifting hulk. As they drew closer to the dismantled derelict they saw that, as Lieutenant Murray had declared, she had been a large vessel. Stumps of three masts rose from her decks above the broken bulwarks. Ends of bleached and frayed-out shrouds hung from her fore, main, and mizzen chains. From the look of her, she had been a considerable time adrift.

As she rolled slowly on the gentle swell they could see that her underbody was green with seaweed and slime, the accumulation of years. Amidships stood a small deck house, and at the bow a broken bowsprit pointed heavenward as if invoking mercy on her forlorn condition.

"Why, she might have been drifting about since the time of Noah, to judge by her looks," exclaimed Merritt, gazing at the odd sight.

"I have heard of derelicts that have followed the ocean currents for fifty years and more," declared the Lieutenant. "This craft looks as if she might date back that far. Certainly she has been a long time adrift. Sailors sometimes become panic-stricken and leave their ships when there is no real necessity for so doing. A case in point is that of Captain Larsen of the Two Sisters, which sailed from Bath, Maine, for a West Indian port. She was abandoned in a hurry after a hurricane, and the captain and crew took to the boats. After drifting for weeks – they had had time to provision the boats well – they arrived in Kingston, Jamaica, and the first sight that greeted the captain's eyes was the hulk of the Two Sisters. She had drifted close to the island and had been towed in, arriving ahead of the crew that had forsaken her!"

"Hark!" cried Merritt, while they were still commenting on the Lieutenant's story, "what was that?"

"Sounded like a bell tolling," exclaimed Rob.

"It is a bell!" cried Merritt.

Sure enough, borne over the gently heaving water, there came to their ears the melancholy ding-dong of a deep-toned bell. Coming as it did from the abandoned sea-riven hulk it cast a gloom over them.

"Who can be ringing it?" cried Tubby, in what was for him, an awe-stricken voice.

"No mystery about it, I guess," said Lieutenant Murray; "it is the ship's bell, and as the craft rolls it is ringing a requiem for the dead."

"Ugh! It gives me the shudders!" exclaimed Hiram.

"It's not a cheerful sound certainly," agreed Rob.

"Bom-boom; bom-boom," chimed the bell, waxing now faint, now loud, as the wind rose and fell.

"I'd like to go aboard that boat and explore her," declared Merritt.

"That's an opportunity you shall have," said the Lieutenant. "It is our rule to explore all such derelicts for a hint as to the fate of their crew before we consign them to the deep."

Orders were given to check the speed of the Seneca and to prepare to lower a boat.

"Are we to go?" chorused the Scouts eagerly.

"Of course. Mr. Hargreaves will accompany you."

"Aren't you going?" asked Rob.

"No. It's an old story with me. While we are waiting for you, I will work out our position, which must go in with my report of the derelict's destruction."

Five minutes later, in one of the Seneca's whale boats, the boys were skimming over the sea toward the melancholy old derelict. As they glided along, the bell kept up its monotonous booming with the regularity of a shore bell summoning worshippers to church.

As the whaleboat was pulled around the derelict's stern they could see a name painted on the square counter, surrounded with many a scroll and flourish in the antique manner. These flourishes had once been gilded and painted, but the gilt and color had long since worn off them.

"Good Hope of Portland, Me.," read out Rob. "What a contrast between her name and her fate!"

"Bom-boom," tolled the bell as if in answer to him.

"She must have been one of those old-time clippers that sailed round the Horn with Yankee notions for the Spice Islands and China, and came back with tea and other Oriental goods," opined Ensign Hargreaves.

"She was a fine ship in her day, sir," ventured the old quartermaster who pulled stroke oar.

"Aye, aye, Tarbox; in those days the American mercantile marine was a thing to be proud of," agreed the ensign. "To-day not one-tenth of the craft that used to fly the Stars and Stripes remain afloat. They have vanished and their keels sweep the sea no more."

By this time they had arrived below the derelict's port main chains. From these several bleached ropes hung down, but all proved too rotten to support the weight of a Boy Scout, let alone a man. But by good fortune a chain, rusty, but still strong seemingly, depended from the bows of the old craft. This withstood a test, and, led by Ensign Hargreaves, the boys clambered on deck. Quartermaster Tarbox and the four sailors who had manned the oars were left in the boat.

The boys' hearts beat a little faster as they stood on the forecastle of the abandoned Good Hope. Nor was this caused by the exertion of the climb altogether. There was something uncanny in standing upon that long-untrodden deck, while right below the break in the forecastle the bell kept up its doomsday-like tolling.