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The Boy Allies
With the Victorious Fleets

OR
The Fall of the German Navy

By ENSIGN ROBERT L. DRAKE

AUTHOR OF

"The Boy Allies With the Navy Series"

[Illustration: A.L. BURT COMPANY NEW YORK]

The Boy Allies

(Registered in the United States Patent Office)

With the Navy Series

* * * * *

By Ensign ROBERT L. DRAKE

* * * * *

The Boy Allies on the North Sea Patrol
or, Striking the First Blow at the German Fleet

The Boy Allies Under Two Flags
or, Sweeping the Enemy from the Sea.

The Boy Allies with the Flying Squadron
or, The Naval Raiders of the Great War.

The Boy Allies with the Terror of the Seas
or, The Last Shot of the Submarine D-16.

The Boy Allies in the Baltic
or, Through Fields of Ice to Aid the Czar.

The Boy Allies at Jutland
or, The Greatest Naval Battle in History.

The Boys Allies Under the Sea
or, The Vanishing Submarine.

The Boy Allies with Uncle Sam's Cruisers
or, Convoying the American Army Across the Atlantic.

The Boy Allies with the Submarine D-32
or, The Fall of the Russian Empire.

The Boy Allies with the Victorious Fleet
or, The Fall of the German Navy.

Copyright, 1919

By A.L. BURT COMPANY

* * * * *





THE BOY ALLIES WITH THE VICTORIOUS FLEET





CHAPTER I

ABOARD U.S.S. PLYMOUTH


"Sail at 4 a.m.," said Captain Jack Templeton of the U.S.S. Plymouth,
laying down the long manila envelope marked "Secret." "Acknowledge by
signal," he directed the ship's messenger, and then looked inquiringly
about the wardroom table.

"Aye, aye, sir," said the first officer, Lieutenant Frank Chadwick.

"Ready at four, sir," said the engineer officer, Thomas; and left his
dinner for a short trip to the engine room to push some belated repairs.

"Send a patrol ashore to round up the liberty party," continued Captain
Templeton, this time addressing the junior watch officer. "Tell them to
be aboard at midnight instead of eight in the morning."

"Aye, aye, sir," said the junior watch officer, and departed in haste.

There was none of the bustle and confusion aboard the U.S.S. Plymouth, at
that moment lying idle in a British port, that the landsman would commonly
associate with sailing orders to a great destroyer. Blowers began to hum
in the fire rooms. The torpedo gunner's mates slipped detonators in the
warheads and looked to the rack load of depth charges. The steward made a
last trip across to the depot ship. Otherwise, things ran on very much as
before.

At midnight the junior watch officer called the captain, who had turned in
several hours earlier, and reported:

"Liberty party all on board, sir."

Then he turned in for a few hours' rest himself.

The junior watch was astir again at three o'clock. He routed out a sleepy
crew to hoist boats and secure for sea. Seven bells struck on the
Plymouth.

Captain Templeton appeared on the bridge. Lieutenant Chadwick was at his
side, as were Lieutenants Shinnick and Craib, second and third officers
respectively. Captain Templeton gave a command. The cable was slipped from
the mooring buoy. Ports were darkened and the Plymouth slipped out. A bit
inside the protection of the submarine nets, but just outside the
channel, she lay to, breasting the flood tide. There she lay for almost an
hour.

"Coffee for the men," said Captain Templeton.

The morning coffee was served on deck in the darkness.

Lights appeared in the distance, and presently another destroyer joined
the Plymouth. Running lights of two more appeared as the clock struck 4
a.m.

Captain Templeton signalled the engine room for two-thirds speed ahead.
Running lights were blanketed on the four destroyers, and the ships fell
into column.

Lieutenant Chadwick felt a drop on his face. He held out a hand.

"Rain," he said briefly.

Jack - Captain Templeton - nodded.

"So much the better, Frank," he replied.

The four destroyers cleared the channel light and spread out like a fan
into line formation.

"Full speed ahead!" came Jack's next command.

The Plymouth leaped ahead, as did her sister ships on either side.

"We're off," said Frank.

Away they sped in the darkness, a division of four Yankee destroyers,
tearing through the Irish sea on a rainy morning; Frank knew there were
four ships in line, but all he could see was his guide, a black smudge in
the darkness, a few ship lengths away on his port bow. Directly she was
blotted from sight by a rain squall.

"Running lights!" shouted Frank.

The lights flashed. Frank kept an eye forward. Directly he got a return
flash from the ship ahead, and then picked up her shape again.

Morning dawned and still the fleet sped on. Toward noon the weather
cleared. Officer and men kept their watches by regular turn during the
day. At sundown the four destroyers slowed down and circled around in a
slow column. The eyes of every officer watched the clock. They were
watching for something. Directly it came - a line of other ships,
transports filled with wounded soldiers returning to America. These must
be safely convoyed to a certain point beyond the submarine zone by the
Plymouth and her sister ships.

On came the transports camouflaged like zebras. The Plymouth and the other
destroyers fell into line on either side of the transports.

"Full speed ahead," was Captain Templeton's signal to the engine room.

"Take a look below, Frank," said Jack to his first officer.

"Aye, aye, sir."

Frank descended a manhole in the deck. He closed the cover and secured it
behind him. At the foot of the ladder was a locked door. As it opened,
came a pressure on Frank's ear drums like the air-lock of a caisson.
Frank threaded his way amid pumps and feed water heaters and descended
still further to the furnace level.

Twenty-five knots - twenty-eight land miles an hour - was the speed of the
Plymouth at that moment. It was good going.

Below, instead of dust, heat, the clatter of shovels, grimy, sweating
fireman, such as the thought of the furnace room of a ship of war calls to
the mind of the landsman, a watertender stood calmly watching the glow of
oil jets feeding the furnace fire. Now and then he cast an eye to the
gauge glasses. The vibration of the hull and the hum of the blower were
the only sounds below.

For the motive power of the Plymouth was not furnished by coal. Rather, it
was oil - crude petroleum - that drove the vessel along. And though oil has
its advantage over coal, it has its disadvantages as well. It was Frank's
first experience aboard an oil-burner, and he had not become used to it
yet. He smelled oil in the smoke from the funnels, he breathed it from the
oil range in the galley. His clothes gathered it from stanchions and
rails.

The water tanks were flavored with the seepage from neighboring
compartments. Frank drank petroleum in the water and tasted it in the
soup. The butter, he thought, tasted like some queer vaseline. But Frank
knew that eventually he would get used to it.

"How's she heading?" Frank asked of the chief engineer.

"All right, sir," was the reply. "Everything perfectly trim. I can get
more speed if necessary."

Frank smiled.

"Let's hope it won't be necessary, chief," he replied.

He inspected the room closely for some moments, then returned to the
bridge and reported to Captain Templeton.

The sea was rough, but nevertheless the speed of the flotilla was not
slackened. It was the desire of Captain Petlow, in charge of the destroyer
fleet, to convoy the transports beyond the danger point at the earliest
possible moment.

The Plymouth lurched up on top of a crest, then dived head-first into the
trough. On the bridge the heave and pitch of the vessel was felt
subconsciously, but the eyes and minds of the officers were busied with
other things. At every touch of the helm the vessel vibrated heavily.

Eight bells struck.

"Twelve o'clock," said Frank. "Time to eat."

The bridge was turned over to the second officer, and Frank and Jack went
below.

"Eat is right, Frank," said Jack as they sat down. "We can't dine in this
weather."

It was true. The rolling boards, well enough for easy weather, proved a
mockery in a sea like the one that raged now. Butter balls, meat and
vegetables shot from plates and went sailing about. It was necessary to
drink soup from teacups and such solid foods as Jack and Frank put into
their stomachs was only what they succeeded in grabbing as they leaped
about on the table.

The two returned on deck.

The day passed quietly. No submarines were sighted, and at last the
flotilla reached the point where the destroyers were to leave the homeward
bound transports to pursue their voyage alone. The transports soon grew
indistinguishable, almost, in the semi-darkness. The senior naval officer
aboard the Plymouth hoisted signal flags.

"Bon Voyage," they read.

Through a glass Jack read the reply.

"Thank you for your good work. Best of luck."

From the S.N.O. (senior naval officer) came another message. Frank picked
it up.

"Set course 188 degrees. Keep lookout for inbound transports to be
convoyed. Ten ships."

Again the destroyer swung into line. It was almost seven o'clock - after
dark - when the lookout aboard the Plymouth reported:

"Smoke ahead!"

Instantly all was activity aboard the destroyers. Directly, through his
glass, Jack sighted nine rusty, English tramp steamers, of perhaps eight
thousand tons, and a big liner auxiliary flying the Royal Navy ensign.

Under the protection of the destroyers, the ships made for an English
port. The night passed quietly. With the coming of morning, the flotilla
was divided. The Plymouth stood by to protect the big liner, while the
other three destroyers and the tramp steamers moved away toward the east.

"This destroyer game is no better than driving a taxi," Frank protested to
Jack on the bridge that afternoon. You never see anything. I'd like to get
ashore for a change. I've steamed sixty thousand miles since last May and
what have I seen? Three ports, besides six days' leave in London."

"You had plenty of time ashore before that," replied Jack.

"Maybe I did. But I'd like to have some more. Besides, this isn't very
exciting business."

Night fell again, and still nothing had happened to break the quiet
monotony of the trip. Lights of trawlers flashed up ahead. Interest on the
bridge picked up.

"Object off the port bow," called the lookout.

"Looks like a periscope," reported the quartermaster.

Frank snapped his binoculars on a bobbing black spar.

"Buoy and fishnet," he decided after a quick scrutiny.

Frank kept the late watch that night. At 4 a.m. he turned in. At five he
climbed hastily from his bunk at the jingle of general alarm, and reached
the bridge on the run in time to see the exchange of recognition signals
with a British man-o'-war, which vessel had run into a submarine while the
latter was on the surface in a fog. The warship had just rammed the
U-boat.

"Can we help you?" Frank called across the water.

"Thanks. Drop a few depth charges," was the reply.

This was done, but nothing came of it Frank returned to his bunk.

"Pretty slow life, this, if you ask me," he told himself.

He went back to sleep.




CHAPTER II

THE BOY CAPTAIN AND HIS LIEUTENANT


The U.S.S. Plymouth was Jack Templeton's first command. He had been
elevated to the rank of captain only a few weeks before. Naturally he was
not a little proud of his vessel. When Jack was given his ship, it was
only natural, too, that Frank Chadwick, who had been his associate and
chum through all the days of the great war, should become Jack's first
officer.

In spite of the fact that Jack's rating as captain was in the British
navy, he was at this moment in command of an American vessel. This came
about through a queer combination of circumstances.

The American commander of the Plymouth had been taken suddenly ill. At
almost the same time the Plymouth had been ordered to proceed from Dover
to Liverpool to join other American vessels. Almost on the eve of
departure, the first officer also was taken ill. It was to him the command
naturally would have fallen in the captain's absence. The second officer
was on leave of absence. Thus, without a skipper, the Plymouth could not
have sailed.

Jack and Frank had recently returned with a British convoy from America.
They were in Dover at the time. From his sick bed in a hospital, the
captain of the Plymouth had appealed to the British naval authorities. In
spite of the fact that he was in no condition to leave when he received
his orders, he did not wish to deny his crew the privilege of seeing
active service, which the call to Liverpool, he knew, meant.

The captain's appeal had been turned over to Lord Hastings, now connected
prominently with the British admiralty. Lord Hastings, in the early days
of the war, had been the commander under whom Jack and Frank had served.
In fact, the lads were visiting the temporary quarters of Lord Hastings in
Dover when the appeal was received from the commander of the Plymouth.

"How would you like to tackle this job, Jack?" Lord Hastings asked.

"I'd like it," the lad replied, "if you think I can do it, sir."

"Of course you can do it," was Lord Hastings' prompt reply. "I haven't
sailed with you almost four years for nothing."

"You mean, sir," replied Jack with a smile, "that I haven't sailed with
you that long for nothing."

"That's more like it, Jack," put in Frank laughingly. "I've learned a few
things from Lord Hastings myself."

"It is hardly probable," continued Lord Hastings, "that your promotion has
been unearned, Jack. No, I believe you can fill the bill."

"In that case, I shall be glad to take command of the Plymouth
temporarily, sir."

"And how about me?" Frank wanted to know. "Where do I come in, sir?"

"Why," said Lord Hastings, "I have no doubt it can be arranged so you can
go along as first officer. I understand the first officer of the Plymouth
is also under the weather."

"But isn't all this a bit irregular, sir?" Jack asked.

"Very much so," was Lord Hastings' reply. "At the same time, many
precedents are being broken every day, and I can see no reason why two
British officers cannot lend their services to an ally if they are asked
to do so."

"It is a little different with me, sir," said Frank. I'm an American."

"All the same," said Lord Hastings, "you're a British naval officer, no
matter what your nativity."

"That's true, too, sir," Frank agreed. "I haven't thought of it in just
that way."

"Well," said Lord Hastings, "I shall report then that Captain Templeton
and First Lieutenant Chadwick will go aboard the Plymouth this evening."

"Very well, sir," said Jack.

This is the reason then that Jack and Frank found themselves aboard an
American destroyer in the Irish sea.

Frank Chadwick, as we have seen, was an American. He had been in Italy
with his father when the great war began. He had been shanghaied in Naples
soon after Germany's declaration of war on France. When he came to his
senses he found that his captors were a band of mutinous sailors. Aboard
the vessel he found a second prisoner, who turned out to be a member of
the British secret service.

Frank met Jack Templeton, a British youth, aboard the schooner. Jack came
aboard in a peculiar way.

The schooner, in control of the mutineers, had put into a north African
port for provisions. Now it chanced that the store where the mutineers
sought to buy provisions was conducted by Jack. The lad was absent when
the supplies were purchased and returned a few moments later to find that
the mutineers had departed without making payment.

Jack's anger bubbled over. He put off for the schooner in a small boat.
Aboard, the chief of the mutineers refused the demand for payment. A fight
ensued. Jack, facing heavy odds, sought refuge in the hold of the vessel,
where he was made a prisoner.

During the night Jack was able to force his way from the hold into the
cabin where Frank and the British secret service agent were held captives.
He released them, and joining forces, the three were able to overcome the
mutineers and make themselves masters of the ship.

Now Jack Templeton was an experienced seaman and knew more than the
rudiments of navigation. Under his direction the schooner returned to the
little African port that he called home. There the three erstwhile
prisoners left the ship to the mutineers.

Later, through the good offices of the British secret service, Frank and
Jack made the acquaintance of Lord Hastings, also in the diplomatic
service. They were able to render some service to the latter and later
accompanied him to his home in London. There, at their request, Lord
Hastings, who in the meantime had been given command of a ship of war, had
them attached to his ship with the rank of midshipmen.

Both Jack and Frank had risen swiftly in the British service. They had
seen active service in all quarters of the globe and had fought under many
flags.

Under Lord Hastings' command they had been with the British fleet in the
North Sea when it struck the first decisive blow against the Germans just
off Helgoland. Later they were found under the Tricolor of France and with
the Italians in the Adriatic. With the British fleet again when it sallied
forth to clear the seven seas of enemy vessels, they had traversed the
Atlantic, the Pacific and the Indian oceans. It had been their fortune,
too, to see considerable land fighting. They had been with the
Anglo-Japanese forces in the east and had conducted raiding parties in
some of the German colonial possessions.

Several times they had successfully run the blockade in the Kiel canal,
passing through the narrow straits in submarines just out of reach of the
foe. In Russia, they had, early in the war, lent invaluable assistance to
the Czar; and more lately, they had been in the eastern monarchy when Czar
Nicholas had been forced to renounce his throne.

Once since the war began they had been to America. This was shortly after
the United States entered the war. They were ordered to the North Atlantic
in order to help the American authorities snare a German commerce raider
which, in some unaccountable manner, had run the British blockade in the
North sea, and was wreaking havoc with allied shipping. Later they went to
New York, and then returned to Europe with a combined British-American
convoy for the first expeditionary force to cross the seas.

In temperament and disposition Jack and Frank were as unlike as one could
conceive. Jack, big for his age, broad-shouldered and strong, was always
cool and collected. Frank, on the other hand, was of a more fiery nature,
easily angered and often rash and reckless. Jack's steadying influence had
often kept the two out of trouble, or brought them through safely when
they were in difficulties.

Both lads spoke French and German fluently and each had a smattering of
Italian. Also, as the result of several trips to Russia, they had a few
words of the Russian tongue at their command.

In physical strength, Jack excelled Frank by far, although the latter was
by no means a weakling. On the other hand again, Frank was a crack shot
with either rifle or revolver; in fact, he was such an excellent marksman
as to cause his chum no little degree of envy. Then, too, both lads were
proficient in the art of self defense and both had learned to hold their
own with the sword.

Up to the time this story opens the combined allied fleets had succeeded
in keeping the Germans bottled up in the strong fortress of Helgoland.
True, the enemy several times had sallied forth in few numbers, apparently
seeking to run the blockade in an effort to prey upon allied merchant
ships. But every time they had offered battle they had received the worst
of it. They had been staggered with a terrible defeat at Jutland almost a
year before this story opens, and since that time had not ventured forth.

But even now, in the security of their hiding places, the Germans were
meditating a bold stroke. Submarines were being coaled and victualed in
preparation for a dash across the Atlantic. Already, one enemy
submarine - a merchantman - had passed the allied ships blocking the English
channel and had crossed to America and returned. Some months later, a
U-Boat of the war type had followed suit. A cordon of ally ships had been
thrown around American ports to snare this venturesome submarine on its
return, but it had eluded them and returned safely to its home port.

But soon - very soon, indeed - German undersea craft were to strike a more
severe blow at allied shipping, carrying, for the moment, the war in all
its horrors to the very door of America. While the United States was
arming and equipping its millions to send across the sea to destroy the
kaiser and German militarism, these enemy undersea craft were crossing the
Atlantic determined to reap a rich harvest upon American, allied and
neutral shipping off the American coast.

And the blow was to be delivered without warning - almost.

When the U.S.S. Plymouth, under Jack's command, returned to Liverpool, the
captain of the vessel, having somewhat recovered, came aboard and relieved
Jack of command.

"I'm obliged for your services, Captain," he said, "but I'll take charge
of the old scow again myself, with your leave."

Jack and Frank went ashore, where, at their hotel, they received a brief
telegram from Lord Hastings. It read as follows:

"Return to Dover at once. Important."

"Now I wonder what is up," said Frank after reading the message.

"The simplest way to find out," replied Jack, "is to go and see."




CHAPTER III

OFF FOR AMERICA


"Then everything went first rate your first trip, Captain?" questioned
Lord Hastings.

"First rate, sir," Jack replied.

The lads were back in Dover where, the first thing after their arrival,
they sought an audience with their former commander.

"Yes, sir," Frank agreed, "Jack makes an A-1 captain."

"I'm glad to hear it," was Lord Hastings' comment. "I've other work in
hand and I wouldn't want to trust it to a man who is nervous under fire."

"But we were not under fire this time, sir," said Jack.

"You mustn't always take me literally, Jack," smiled Lord Hastings. "It
was your first venture in your present rank and you acquitted yourself
creditably. That is what I meant."

"And what is the other venture, sir?" Frank asked eagerly.

"There you go again, Frank," said Lord Hastings. "How many times have I
told you that you must restrain your impatience."

Frank was abashed.

"Your warnings don't seem to do much good, I'll admit, sir. Nevertheless,
I'll try to do better."

"See that you do," returned Lord Hastings gravely. "Nothing was ever
gained by too great impatience. Remember that."

"I'll try, sir."

"Very well. Then I shall acquaint you with the nature of the work in
hand."

The boys listened intently to Lord Hastings' next words.

"As you know," His Lordship began, "the seas have virtually been cleared
of all enemy ships. All German merchant vessels have been captured or
sunk. What few raiders that preyed on our commerce for a time have been
put out of business."

"Yes, sir," said Jack. "Our merchant vessels no longer have anything to
fear from the foe."

"They shouldn't, that's true enough," replied Lord Hastings.

"You mean they have, sir?" asked Jack, incredulously.

Lord Hastings nodded.

"I do," he admitted gravely. "Particularly shipping on the other side of
the Atlantic."

"America, sir?"

"Exactly."

"But surely," Frank put in, "surely our blockade is tight enough to
prevent the enemy from breaking through."

"We have not yet found means," replied Lord Hastings, "of effectually
blockading the submarine."

"Oh, I see," said Frank. "You mean that the Germans plan to open a
submarine campaign upon allied shipping in American waters."

"Such is my information," declared Lord Hastings.

"And," said Jack, "you wish us to cross the Atlantic and take a hand in
the game of taming the U-Boats, sir."

"Such is my idea," Lord Hastings admitted. "Let me explain. My information
is not authentic, but nevertheless, knowing the Germans as I do, I am
tempted to credit it."

"Then why not warn the United States, sir?" asked Frank. "There are enough
American ships of war off the coast to deal effectually with all the


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