Dave Darrin on Mediterranean Service | Page 2

in a thrilling chase after an undersea boat the launch's
company find the tables unexpectedly turned on them.

CHAPTER XXIV--CONCLUSION
249
The pursuit comes to a stirring finish, with Able Seaman Runkle's
reputation saved and Ensign Darrin highly honored.

DAVE DARRIN
ON MEDITERRANEAN SERVICE
CHAPTER I
GREEN HAT, THE TROUBLE-STARTER
"Dan," whispered Dave Darrin, Ensign, United States Navy, to his
chum and brother officer, "do you see that fellow with the green Alpine
hat and the green vest?"
"Yes," nodded Dan Dalzell.
"Watch him."
"Why?"
"He's a powerful brute, and it looks as though he's spoiling for a fight."
"You are not going to oblige him, are you?" asked Dalzell in a whisper,
betraying surprise.
"Nothing like it," Darrin responded disgustedly. "Danny Grin, don't you
credit me with more sense than that? Do you imagine I'd engage in a
fight in a place like this?"
"Then why are you interested in what the fellow might do?" demanded
Ensign Dan.

"Because I think there is going to be a lively time here. That fellow
under the Alpine hat is equal to at least four of these spindling Spanish
waiters. There is going to be trouble within four minutes, or I'm a poor
guesser."
"Just let Mr. Green Hat start something," chuckled Ensign Dalzell in an
undertone. "There are plenty of stalwart British soldiers here, and
'Tommy Atkins' never has been known to be averse to a good fair fight.
The soldiers will wipe up the floor with him. Then there is the provost
guard, patrolling the streets of Gibraltar. If Mr. Green Hat grows too
noisy the provost guard will gather him in."
"And might also gather us in, if the provost officer thought us
intelligent witnesses," muttered Darrin.
"That would be all right, too," grinned Dan. "There is bound to be a
British army officer in command of the provost guard. As soon as we
handed him cards showing us to be American naval officers he'd raise
his cap to us, and that would be the end of it."
"I don't like to be present at rows in a place of this kind," Ensign Darrin
insisted.
"Then we'd better be going," proposed Ensign Dalzell.
The place was Gibraltar, and the time nine o'clock in the evening. The
two friends were seated well back in one of the several Spanish
vaudeville theatres that flourish more or less in the city on the Great
Rock, even in such times as this period of the great European War.
The theatre was not a low place, or it would not have been permitted to
exist in Gibraltar, which, even in peace times, is under the strictest
military rule, made much more strict at the beginning of the great war.
The performance was an ordinary one and rather dull. At the moment
three Spanish women occupied the stage, going rather hopelessly
through the steps of an aimless dance, while three musicians ground out
the music for the dancers. The next number, as announced on a card
that hung at one side of the stage, was to be a pantomime.

One particularly unpleasant feature only was to be noted in the place.
Wines and liquors were served to those who chose to order them,
Spanish waiters passing up and down the aisles in search of custom.
Mr. Green Hat, to the knowledge of Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell, had
been a much too frequent customer. He was now arguing with two
waiters about an alleged mistake in the changing of the money he had
handed one of them. From angry remonstrance Mr. Green Hat was now
resorting to abusive language.
"I'd like to implant a wallop under that rowdy's chin," muttered Dan
Dalzell, as he started to rise.
"Don't try it," warned Ensign Dave, as he, too, rose.
Just then the lightning struck; the storm broke.
With an angry bellow, Mr. Green Hat leaped to his feet, knocking down
one of the waiters. Four others rushed to the spot. The five promptly
assailed Mr. Green Hat, and were swiftly reinforced by the one who
had been floored.
But the stalwart, active brawler proved to be too much for the
combined force of the waiters. As if they had been so many reeds, Mr.
Green Hat brushed them aside with his fists.
"Grab the bloomin' rotter and throw 'im h'out!" bellowed a "Tommy
Atkins," as the British soldier is collectively known.
A new note, in a decidedly American tone of protest, rose above the
uproar.
"How dare you? What do you mean, fellow?" demanded a young man
in a gray traveling suit, glaring up from the floor, to which he, an
unoffending occupant of an aisle seat, had suddenly been hurled.
It was too much for Dan Dalzell, who promptly attempted to seize Mr.
Green Hat as that individual, with