Dave Darrin After The Mine Layers | Page 6

fog lifts," Darrin decided. He increased the number of lookouts and ordered slow speed, so that the long, narrow destroyer, capable of racing rapidly over the waves, now merely crept along.
When the watch was changed Dave barely returned the salutes of the departing and oncoming watch officers, for his whole attention was centered on the sea. Half an hour after that he started slightly, then stared hard.
Off the starboard bow he thought he made out something moving as slowly as the "Grigsby" herself was proceeding.
"Pick that up, Mr. Ormsby, and see if it's anything more than a dream," ordered Dave, pointing.
Instantly the course of the destroyer was changed several points to starboard and speed increased a trifle.
Through the haze there soon developed the outlines of a steam craft, set low in the water, and of not more than two thousand tons. She was not a handsome craft, but, on the contrary, appeared ghostlike as she stood only half-revealed through the fog.
Undoubtedly the stranger had a lookout up forward, but no sign of one could be made out as the "Grigsby" gained on her.
Her markings indicated that she belonged to one of the neutral countries to the northward. The wet flag that she flew drooped so tightly around the staff that nothing could be learned from that bit of bunting.
"One of the neutral traders," remarked Ensign Ormsby.
"She must give an account of herself," Dave answered. "Whatever she is, or carries, she doesn't look like a craft to be entrusted with a valuable cargo."
As the "Grigsby" ranged up alongside, an officer stepped out from the stranger's wheelhouse and came to the rail.
"What craft is that?" Dave demanded.
The skipper, if such he was, replied in broken English, naming a neutral country, and adding that the vessel was the "Olga," bound for an English port with a cargo of wood pulp.
"I knew she couldn't carry a costly cargo," Dave muttered, then commanded, through a megaphone:
"Lie to and stand by to be inspected."
"Vat?" demanded the foreign skipper, in evident amazement.
Dave repeated the order.
"But ve all right are," insisted the skipper, "vot I told you iss our cargo."
"Lie to, just the same," Dave commanded. "We'll be aboard at once."
That made the skipper angry, but he dared not resist. The muzzles of two of the "Grigsby's" three-inch guns were pointed straight at him now, so the clumsy craft stopped and lay tossing on the choppy sea.
Ensign Burton and a boarding crew were told off for one of the power launches. At the last instant Dave decided to go with the party and took his place in the launch. He was first aboard the stranger when the launch had been made fast alongside.
It was now a younger officer who met him at the rail.
"Where is your skipper?" Darrin demanded.
"He me has given der papers to you show," replied the younger officer. "Come mit me to der cabin, please."
"I must see this craft's master, and at once," Darrin insisted.
"He here cannot be at dis minute," replied the foreign mate. "To de cabin mit me come, please."
"Your cargo is wood pulp, you say?" Dave continued.
"Yes, sir."
"Where is it?"
"In our hold, already, sir," answered the mate.
"Throw off that hatch," Dave directed, pointing. "I am going to inspect your cargo."
The hatch was promptly uncovered. Leaving Burton and his men on deck, Dave descended into the hold by a ladder, followed by the mate and two of the "Olga's" seamen. A brief inspection proved that the hold was well filled with a cargo of wood pulp.
"Now, you vill go to de after hold, please?" asked the mate, as Darrin climbed up to the deck.
"Yes," Dave nodded, and went aft, followed by four of his men, while Burton and the others remained forward. Here in the after hold the same kind of cargo was found. The "Olga" looked like a straight enough craft, but there was something in the manner of the mate that made Darrin suspicious.
Calling two of his seamen below Dave produced a tape measure.
"Get the distance from the hatchway to the after end of this hold," he directed.
Then, wheeling, he noted that the mate's face had turned to a greenish color.
"What ails you, man?" Darrin demanded, eyeing the fellow sharply.
"N-n-nutten, sir," stammered the mate.
One of the seamen reported the measurement he had taken.
"Now, go on deck and measure aft from the hatchway," Dave commanded.
The instant that Darrin was left alone with the mate a pair of muscular arms encircled the throat of the young American naval commander from behind. In the same instant the mate sprang at him. The two assailants, taking him so by surprise, overcame Darrin with comparative ease. In the same moment they backed him through a small doorway opening into the hold forward.
Down on his back Dave Darrin was thrown, the skipper sitting on his chest, while