By this time the destroyer was rolling at such an angle that the order was pa.s.sed for the life-lines. Soon after that a second order was issued that all men on outside duty must don life-belts. Even up on the bridge, with an abundance of hand-holds, Dave and Ensign Andrews wore the belts.

With a nearly head wind from the northeast the "Grigsby" labored in the running seas, spray dashing over the bridge and against the rubber coats and sou'westers of the two officers. Below, on the deck, the water was sometimes several inches deep, gorging the scuppers in its flow overboard. Officers and men alike wore rubber boots.

"All secure, sir," reported Lieutenant Fernald, returning after his last rounds. "A nasty time you'll have of it, sir, to-night."

"Like some other times that I've known since I took to the sea," Dave shouted back through the gale.

Wild, indeed, was the night, yet the stars remained visible. The wind had increased still more by eight bells (midnight), when the watch again changed.

"Is the weather bad enough for you to have to remain here, sir?" asked Ensign Ormsby, respectfully.

"Yes," Darrin nodded. "I am charged with the safety of this craft."

Having gone the limit of her northerly patrol, the "Grigsby" had now headed about, dipping and lunging ahead of the wind and rolling as though the narrow craft would like nothing better than to turn turtle.

Owing to the fact that neither craft carried lights in these dangerous waters Dalzell had pulled far off. At this moment Danny Grin and the "Reed" were four miles nearer the mainland of Europe than the "Grigsby"

was.

After an especially heady plunge, followed by some wild rolling from side to side, Dave shouted in his watch officer's ear:

"Ormsby, I'm going to make the round of the deck, to make sure that the life lines are all up and secure."

The ensign nodded. He would have preferred to go himself, but his place as watch officer was on the bridge.

As Dave went down the steps from the bridge a seaman on watch sprang to seize his arm and steady him.

"I've my sea-legs on," Darrin smiled at the sailor.

Then, holding the brim of his sou'-wester down before his face, the other hand on a life-line, Darrin cautiously made his way aft. The lines along the starboard side were secure.

At the stern stood two men, gripping the st.u.r.dy lines with both hands.

Here the decks were flooded with seas coming over constantly.

Dave stood with the men for a few minutes, observing the combers that rolled against the stern, the tops breaking over the side.

"I'll have the stern watch changed every hour," he shouted at the seamen above the gale. "It's too wet to stand a full trick here. Remember, on coming off, or just before going on, to go to the galley and get your coffee."

"Thank you, sir," replied one of the men, touching the brim of his headgear.

Dave released the sternmost life-line to take a quick, oblique step toward the port lines. At that very instant a huge comber climbed aboard over the stern, the great bulk of water lifting Dave as though he were but a chip.

As he struggled for his footing he had a brief glimpse of one of the sailors battling toward him. Then a continuation of the wave carried him obliquely forward, lifting him clear of the port rail at the quarter and driving him over into the sea.

Instantly a hoa.r.s.e yell rose and was repeated: "Commanding officer overboard astern, sir!"

CHAPTER VII

IN THE HOUR OF DESPAIR

DAVE did not hear the wild, hoa.r.s.e alarm. A ma.s.s of water pounded in his ears. He felt himself going down as though headed for the bottom of the sea.

During what seemed an interminable interval Darrin kept his mouth tightly shut. He did not struggle to rise to the surface, for he knew that as soon as the driving force of the water over him had expended itself his belt would carry him up to air.

And so it did. As Darrin shook the spray from his eyes he made out the "Grigsby" only as a dark ma.s.s far ahead. Then a wave blotted her out.

When next he looked he saw nothing. The third time he made out a still more indistinct ma.s.s, which, he judged, was turning to come back and look for him.

"Steady, boy!" he urged himself. "The outfit aboard that craft will make every possible effort to find me. Ah, I knew it!"

For now the ray of the searchlight streamed out, trying to pierce the murkiness of the night.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Commanding officer overboard!"]

By the shifting of the ray, too, he saw that the "Grigsby" was putting about.

"They'll pick me up soon with that light," he told himself.

He did not permit himself to reflect that, if the startled officers and men on the destroyer located him it would be by the sheerest good luck. A human head rolling among waves on a black night is a difficult object to pick up with the searchlight.

Dave now struck out enough to keep his face turned toward the light. He did not attempt to swim toward the destroyer. That long, narrow craft circled about, bringing a second searchlight to bear.

Then Dave saw the blinkers at the foremast head gleam out dully. He even read the signal:

"Lieutenant Commander Darrin overboard. Not yet located."

"That's for Dalzell's benefit," Dave told himself. "Poor old Danny-boy will be wild, and will come steaming over here at full speed.

But--confound it! The 'Grigsby' is circling farther south. Evidently Fernald thinks he came back too far on his wake."

Farther and farther south went the destroyer, still sweeping the sea with her two searchlights.

Then Dave beheld, after minutes, another searchlight beam crossing the others, and knew that Dan Dalzell, aboard the "Reed," was making anxious quest for his floating chum.

Both craft, after the "Reed" had once come within a quarter of a mile, began operating further away. There was nothing on the black, roaring waters by which to locate the spot where the "Grigsby" had been when her commander was hurled overboard.

Twenty minutes pa.s.sed after the "Reed" had come up. There was more talking with the blinkers between the two craft. The destroyers moved in ever widening, and then contracting, circles, but not once did either come near enough to pick up a glimpse of that one face that held occasionally above the rolling waves.

After an hour of searching there was a sorrowful conference between the officers directing the signals on the two destroyers. They decided that every possible effort had been made, and that Lieutenant Commander Darrin was surely lost.

Indeed, at about that time Dave, though he was too far away and dashed with too much spray to read the signals, had about given up hope.

Chilled to the bone by the icy waters, he had at first striven to keep himself warm by such exercise as he could apply. But now he was weakening.

Had it not been for the unusual vigor of his const.i.tution he would have been dead by this time. It was now only a question of a little more time when he must freeze to death.

"All right, Davy-boy," he reflected, almost drowsily. "While you were alive you managed to do a few things! But poor Belle! I hope this isn't going to upset her too much!"