Part 5 (1/2)
”Oh, it's in code,” said Slim apologetically; ”I didn't know that.”
”DETAIL,” the lieutenant announced, finding that word. ”'Understand and am following sealed orders'. That's the _North Dakota_. She has coaled at sea and is now starting upon some mission known only to her commander and the naval authorities.”
Almost as he finished speaking the _Everett_ gave a lurch, her whistle was tooted two or three times, the engines started turning, and the big boat began to vibrate under the pressure.
There was a shout from the thousand or more who had crowded to the river's edge, responded to by the fifteen hundred khaki-clad young men who were lined up at every point of vantage along the vessel's side.
”And we're off, too,” shouted Lieutenant Mackinson.
”Hurrah!” cried the three boys from Brighton in the same breath, as they double-quicked it behind the lieutenant to the upper deck.
The scene was one to inspire the most miserable slacker. Somewhere in the upper part of the yard a band was playing Sousa's ”Stars and Stripes Forever.” From the windows of the ordnance and other buildings at the lower end of the yard workmen hung forth, waving hats and handkerchiefs, and joining in the shouted well-wishes of those along the sh.o.r.e. The crews of every fighting craft in that part of the river sang out friendly advice to those aboard the transport, and two miles down the channel could be discerned the smoke from the stacks of the armed convoys that were to give the _Everett_ safe pa.s.sage to her destination.
Among those at the water's edge the boys could discern the big form of Sergeant Martin, and even as distance welded them in an indistinguishable ma.s.s, they could still see him, towering above the others, his hat describing wide circles through the air.
”So long, fellows; we'll meet you over there,” shouted the men of the last vessel they pa.s.sed.
As though by prearrangement the fifteen hundred men on the _Everett_ began singing, ”I'm Going Over,” sang it to the end of the first verse, then stopped, and from a point well down the river could hear those they had pa.s.sed taking up the second stanza.
Hours later, out upon the ocean, the dim lights ash.o.r.e fading one by one, the fighters for Uncle Sam gave one last, long, lingering look at their native land. And Jerry, voicing the spirit of all, cried out:
”Farewell, United States.”
CHAPTER V
THE FIGHT IN THE WIRELESS ROOM
”Oh my; oh, my!” wailed Slim weakly, his head hanging over the side of his bunk. ”I never felt worse in all my life. I never felt half so sick.”
”Never mind,” urged Joe, soothingly, ”you'll soon be feeling better now.”
”Yes, _he_ will,” moaned Jerry, miserably, from the opposite bunk; ”_he_ will, but I won't.”
The wind howled, the big s.h.i.+p gave a forward and downward lurch, and Jerry would have slid from his bunk but for the quick action of Joe.
”I think I'm going to die. I wish I would,” gasped the red-headed boy when he was again laid out at full length. ”I had the measles and the mumps at the same time once, but I never felt like this. Why don't they steer this old boat through the waves, instead of trying to jump her over them?”
”There's a heavy sea running,” explained Joe; ”that's what makes the _Everett_ ride so roughly.”
”Wish I was back at Brighton,” Slim groaned dismally.
Two hardy youths strolling along the deck, who hadn't been touched by the epidemic of seasickness, stopped to peer in at the porthole. They had mischief in their eyes, and as they caught sight of Slim's humorously pathetic countenance, one of them muttered in a low but distinct voice: ”How'd you like to have some fried sausage, and some plum pudding, and some----”
”Shut up!” bawled out Jerry with what strength he had left.
With a loud laugh the two withdrew their heads and disappeared.
At that moment the s.h.i.+p's physician, accompanied by Lieutenant Mackinson, arrived to give what further comfort he could to the seasick lads.