Then battalion by battalion, a company at a time, the regiment pa.s.sed on through the dimly lighted pier sheds. On the further side towered the bulwarks of a great ship, with gangways reaching down to the pier.

In some mysterious way order reigned and speed was observed.

Line after line of uniformed men pa.s.sed up the gangways and vanished.

Lights were on the ship, yet dim enough to be in keeping with the night's mystery.

Last of all the almost m.u.f.fled noises of gangways being drawn down on to the piers. Hawsers were cast off. Stealthy tugs hauled the ocean monster out into the stream.

"Off at last!" was felt more than spoken. Then the tugs let go and the ship, outwardly darkened save for the few necessary running lights, moved slowly down stream.

Some venturesome soldiers found their way up on deck.

Above them, on a still higher deck, the shadowy forms of officers were discernible.

The strangeness of the dark sea lay over all. It seemed uncanny, this dark departure from one's native land---the land for which these men were going to fight, to bleed and die!

Yet there was no sense of fear. It was the strangeness that gripped all minds.

Up forward on the spar deck a few enlisted men opened their mouths to sing. The chorus grew in volume and the words rolled up:

_"And I don't know where I'm going, but I'm on my way!"_

_"For I belong to the Regulars. I'm proud to say."_

_"And I'll do my dooty-ooty, Night or day."_

_"I don't know where I'm going, But I'm on my way!"_ Breaking through the words the ship's deep-throated whistle boomed its own notes.

CHAPTER XI

IN THE WATERS OF THE SEA WOLVES

Some days later the same ship steamed steadily through the waters on the further side of the Atlantic.

Nor was the Ninety-ninth alone. Seven other transports were keeping her company, together with a busy, bustling escort of British and American destroyers.

For these American adventurers of to-day were nearing the coast of Ireland.

Whether these transports were to unload their cargoes of human beings and munitions at any port in Great Britain or Ireland few on the transports knew, nor did those few tell others.

Ever since the first morning out there had been daily drills, on every transport, in abandoning ship. A few night drills, too, had been held. Not an officer or man was there but knew his station and his lifeboat in case of disastrous meeting with a submarine.

These had not been the only drills, however. From morning to night platoons had been drawn up on the decks and military drills had been all but incessant while daylight lasted. Especially had the newest recruits been drilled. By this time the latest of them to join the regiment had gained considerable of the appearance of the soldier.

d.i.c.k and Greg, sharing the same cabin, had been much together, for on shipboard they had found much leisure. It had been the lieutenants who had drilled the platoons. Captains were but little occupied on shipboard.

On the morning that it became known that the fleet had entered the Danger Zone, d.i.c.k and Greg stood on deck to the port of the pilot house. Leaning over the rail they idly scanned the surface of the sea to northward.

"Almost in France, my boy!" Prescott cried eagerly. "Or England!"

"Near enough, yet we may never see either country," returned Captain Holmes, suppressing a yawn, for the sea air, even after a night's rest, made him drowsy.

"Croaker!" laughed d.i.c.k.

"I'm not," Greg denied, "and I don't want to croak, either, but who can tell? We are now in the waters where the sea wolves have been busy enough in finding prey."

"So far they haven't proved that they could do much to troopships,"

d.i.c.k declared warmly.

"There always has to be a first time," Holmes retorted.

"All right, then," smiled Prescott. "We're going to be torpedoed.

Now, I hope that satisfies you."

"You know it doesn't," Holmes rejoined. "This sea air makes me so sleepy, all the time, that I don't feel as though I could stand any real excitement."

"Being torpedoed would be something to look back upon in later years," d.i.c.k observed thoughtfully.

"Yes, if we had any later years on earth in which to look back,"

Captain Holmes responded.

"Who's this strange-looking creature coming?" d.i.c.k suddenly demanded, as he stared aft.

"Captain Craig, the adjutant, of course," Greg answered. "He has his life belt on, and he's stopping to talk to others."

"After he speaks they hurry away," d.i.c.k went on. "I understand.

All hands are ordered to put on life belts."

And that, indeed, proved to be the message that Captain Craig brought forward with him. d.i.c.k and Greg did not have far to go to reach their cabin. In five minutes they reappeared on deck in the bulky contrivances intended to buoy them up in the water should they have the bad fortune to find themselves tossing on the waves.

"This makes the danger seem real," Prescott observed.

"Too blamed real!" grumbled Greg. "We're ordered not to take these belts off, either, until the order is pa.s.sed, and are told that the order won't be pa.s.sed to-day, either. Imagine our trying to get close to the dining table to eat in comfort!"

"It may be in the plans that we're not to eat to-day," Captain d.i.c.k laughed.

Ahead, on either flank and at the rear, the torpedo-boat destroyers were scouting vigilantly, with gunners standing by ready to fire promptly at any periscope or conning tower of an enemy craft that might be sighted.

"I don't suppose there'll be any band concert this afternoon,"

said Greg Holmes suddenly and ruefully. "And we have a mighty good band, too. And probably no band concert to-morrow forenoon, either."

"We may not be at sea to-morrow forenoon," d.i.c.k suggested.

"Have you been able to figure out at all where we are?" Captain Holmes asked.

"I haven't. I don't know either our course or the speed at which we are traveling. All I am sure of is that we are still out of sight of land. I was told that we are nearing the coast of Ireland, but Ireland is a town of some size, so the information isn't very explicit."