The Boy Allies Under the Sea; Or, The Vanishing Submarines
The Boy Allies Under the Sea; Or, The Vanishing Submarines by Clair W. Hayes
The Boy Allies Under the Sea; Or, The Vanishing Submarines by Clair W. Hayes
"What I would like to know," said Frank Chadwick, "is just how long England intends to put up with the activities of the German submarines in the waters surrounding the British Isles."
"How long?" echoed Jack Templeton. "Surely you know that England is already conducting a vigorous campaign against them."
"I don't seem to have heard anything of such a campaign," returned Frank dryly; "but another big liner was torpedoed and sunk off the coast of Ireland yesterday. What are we going to do about it? That's what I want to know."
"I'll tell you a little something you don't seem to know," said Jack. "In the last thirty days, in the neighborhood of a hundred German submarines have disappeared-sunk or captured-no one seems to know which. Nevertheless, it is a fact. Through diplomatic channels word has been received in London that a large number have failed to return to their bases. The German government is much disturbed."
"Where have they gone?" asked Frank, with some surprise.
"I don't know. Nobody knows-unless, perhaps, a few high government officials. They have just naturally disappeared-vanished."
"How do you know all this?"
"I happened to hear Lord Hastings discussing it with Mr. Churchill while you were out the other day."
"But, of course, Mr. Churchill knows what has happened to the submarines."
"Of course; but he's not telling everything he knows."
"But doesn't Lord Hastings know?"
"I suppose so; but he is keeping his information to himself."
"Well, I didn't know any of them had disappeared."
"They have, though, and I heard Mr. Churchill say that the government hoped within another month to have rid British waters entirely of the German submersibles."
"I hope his hope comes true," said Frank with a smile.
"And I; but I would like to know something more of the mystery of these vanishing submarines."
Both lads were to learn something more, even sooner than they could possibly have hoped.
The door opened and a man strode into the room. Attired in the full uniform of a British naval commander, he made a striking appearance in his gold and lace. He greeted the two lads with a smile.
"Well, boys?" he said.
The newcomer was Lord Hastings, erstwhile distinguished secret service agent and new commander in his British majesty's royal navy. Also, though the fact was known to few, he was a distant cousin of the king himself and one of the most highly trusted officers of the empire.
"Well, boys?" he repeated.
"Well, sir," said Frank, "we were just discussing the mystery of the vanishing submarines."
Lord Hastings gazed at the lad in surprise.
"Vanishing submarines!" he repeated. "And tell me, how did you know there were such things as vanishing submarines?"
"Why, Jack told me, sir," replied Frank.
"And how did you know it?" demanded Lord Hastings of Jack.
"I heard you and Mr. Churchill discussing it, sir," replied Jack.
Lord Hastings drew a long breath, evidently of relief.
"I didn't know we had been so indiscreet," he said, half to himself. "However, there is no harm done, for I know you boys are to be trusted not to repeat what you overhear. I'll tell you this, you two are among the very few who know that any of the German submarines have been accounted for."
"Then it is true?" asked Frank.
"Oh, it's true enough," replied Lord Hastings. "Perhaps a hundred of them have disappeared."
"And where are they, sir?" asked Frank. "At the bottom?"
"That," said Lord Hastings with a slow smile, "is the mystery the German government would like to solve."
"But surely you know, sir."
"If I did, I would not repeat it within these four walls," declared Lord Hastings. "Walls have ears, you know, as is proven by the fact that Jack overheard my conversation with Mr. Churchill."
"I didn't mean to listen, sir," interrupted Jack.
"Oh, I know that," replied Lord Hastings. "But now take my advice, and keep what you know locked close within you."
"We shall, sir," replied both lads.
"Good! Now I have a piece of news for you."
The two lads stepped forward eagerly.
"Are we to go on active service again, sir?" asked Frank anxiously.
"It's about time we did," mumbled Jack, half to himself.
Lord Hastings smiled as he saw the eager looks upon the faces of both.
"Well, we have a little work cut out for us," he replied quietly.
"Hooray!" cried Frank.
A pleased expression fluttered across Jack's face, but he gave voice to no exclamation; he was never as effusive as his chum.
"I'm glad you're pleased," returned Lord Hastings. "Yes, we shall see active service, at once."
"When do we start, sir?" asked Frank, his face shining.
"In the morning."
Frank's face fell.
"I was in hopes it was to-night," he replied.
"Scouting, submarine or what?" demanded Jack.
"You will have to wait for an answer to that question," said Lord Hastings. "In the meantime, it would be well this afternoon to get whatever equipment you may need. Your other things, together with mine, are at the bottom of the sea with the old D-16."
"And perhaps," said Frank slyly, glancing at Lord Hastings, "before our present work is over we may know something of the mystery"-he lowered his voice-"of the vanishing submarines."
Lord Hastings eyed him somewhat coldly.
"Perhaps," he said, and, turning on his heel, left the room.
"You shouldn't have said that, Frank," declared Jack, when they were left alone. "You remember what he said about the walls having ears."
"I know it," said Frank, with sincere regret. "It just slipped out."
"If you'll take my advice, you'll see that it doesn't slip out again," advised Jack.
"I'll be mum from now on," said his chum with a slight smile. "But now I guess we may as well get what things we may need."
"All right," said Jack.
They picked up their caps and made their way from the house.
And while they are engaged in the task of out-fitting themselves for the coming expedition, a few words concerning the two chums may well be written.
Jack Templeton was an English boy some eighteen years of age. Born in the British Isles, he had nevertheless spent most of his life in Africa, his father having conducted a small trading station upon the coast of that continent. Jack's father was a scholar and from him the boy had acquired a good education.
Jack's father died, leaving the boy as a legacy nothing but the little African trading store; and Jack set about to make his own living there and to put by enough so that within a few years he would be able to return to the land of his birth.
And then fate took a hand in shaping his career.
A party from a passing schooner stopped for supplies at Jack's store, and, in the lad's absence, departed without paying for the provisions. Jack set forth to collect. He climbed aboard the schooner before it hove anchor, and, payment being refused by the schooner's crew, a fight ensued.
Jack was forced to take refuge in the hold, while the ship got under way. He succeeded in making his way to the next compartment, where he was surprised to find two other prisoners. These he released, and they proved to be a British secret service agent and Frank Chadwick.
Frank was an American boy. He had been separated from his father, and while seeking him in Naples had been shanghaied aboard the schooner, and there he was, following a mutiny among the crew, as Jack found him. By some resourcefulness and not a little fighting, the lads overcame the crew and made their way back to Jack's home, taking the other prisoner with them.
Here they joined an expedition in which the secret service agent was implicated, and in this manner met Lord Hastings. The latter took an interest in them at once, and, after they had proved their mettle, the British nobleman took them aboard his own vessel as midshipmen.
Then followed a series of exciting adventures, which had led them to many parts of the world. They had been instrumental in the first big victory of the British fleet off Heligoland; they had taken part in the pursuit of the German cruiser Emden, "the terror of the seas," and had been in at the death; they had been with the British fleet that had sunk the last German squadron upon the oceans-off the Falkland Islands; they had taken part in many and dangerous other exploits, having more than once been in the heart of the enemy's territory; and always they had returned safely.
But there was once when it seemed that all-Lord Hastings, Frank and Jack-had come to their end. It came about in this wise: After a long cruise, which resulted in great successes, their submarine, D-16, had come to grief in the Dardanelles. They were caught below and it seemed that all must perish.
Then Jack had decided that it was futile for all to die; there was safety for all but one. A deck of cards decided who was to stay, and Jack had drawn the fatal card-the ace of spades.
Officers and crew were launched to safety by means of a torpedo tube; and Jack sat down to await the end. But, in some unaccountable manner, the submarine had suddenly risen to the surface, and Jack, taking advantage of the single instant the vessel was above water before it took its final death plunge, flung himself clear. And thus all were saved.
But, because of their desperate experiences, they were unfit to immediately resume new duties; so all had returned to England until such time as they would be physically in shape again.
Now Jack Templeton, although young in years, was wise in the ways of the world. Also he was of huge stature and as strong as an ox, as he had proved more than once when put to the test. Frank, although by no means as large as his chum, was sturdy and strong, and able to give a good account of himself when occasion required.
The one noticeable difference between the two was that Frank was high-tempered and quick, whereas Jack was always cool and collected. And this very fact had more than once showed that Jack, while not exactly more dependable, could always be relied upon to keep his head.
While both were skillful in the use of weapons, here was a place where Frank excelled. He was a dead shot with rifle or revolver and was a strong swordsman. Jack was a good shot himself and a skillful fencer, but he was not in Frank's class when it came to the use of sword or firearms.
Upon their last expedition Jack and Frank had acted as first and second officers respectively of the submarine, and both now held the rank of first lieutenant. Their promotions had come deservedly. They had the implicit confidence of Lord Hastings and more than once had offered valuable advice, which Lord Hastings had acted upon.
Now a few words about the progress of the war. The seven seas had for some time, save for the presence of the German submarines, been swept clear of German, Austrian and Turkish fighting ships. Not a one remained at large to prey upon the shipping of the Allies. The real fighting strength of the navies of the three central powers still remained in their own fortified bases, well guarded by mines.
The Allies had established such an effective blockade that none dared to venture forth. So the naval situation was practically at a standstill, where indications pointed to its remaining until the main German fleet, bottled up in Heligoland, and the main Austrian fleet in the Adriatic should summon sufficient courage to sally forth and give battle; and there had been nothing to indicate any sudden action on the part of either.
On several occasions British submarines had penetrated the mine fields and created considerable havoc, and aircraft had dropped bombs from the air. But along these lines the German submarines had been more successful and now were the one real menace confronting the naval supremacy of the Entente powers.
Hundreds of ships, large and small, had fallen easy prey to these under-sea terrors. Big ocean liners, crowded with passengers, non-combatants, had been sent to the bottom with terrible loss of innocent lives. Chief among these tragedies laid to the door of the German submarines was the sinking of the Cunard liner Lusitania, in which more than a thousand men, women and children had been drowned.
And, so far as the British public knew, England had taken no steps to combat this under-sea peril. However, as Lord Hastings had told the boys at the opening of this story, Great Britain had taken such steps, and that they were effective was evident from his additional statement that in the neighborhood of a hundred submarines had "vanished."
But this warfare was not to end until the submarine evil had been eradicated. The German under-sea craft must be disposed of so effectively as to preclude further danger to British shipping. And it was in this work that Jack and Frank were soon to play a prominent part.
* * *
The Boy Allies in the Balkan Campaign The Struggle to Save a Nation by Clair W. Hayes
The Boy Allies in Great Peril; Or, With the Italian Army in the Alps by Clair W. Hayes
From the book:On the twenty-second of February, 1916, an automobile sped northward along the French battle line that for almost two years had held back the armies of the German emperor, strive as they would to win their way farther into the heart of France. For months the opposing forces had battled to a draw from the North Sea to the boundary of Switzerland, until now, as the day waned - it was almost six o'clock - the hands of time drew closer and closer to the hour that was to mark the opening of the most bitter and destructive battle of the war, up to this time. It was the eve of the battle of Verdun.
The Boy Allies with the Victorious Fleets; Or, The Fall of the German Navy by Clair W. Hayes
The Boy Allies with Haig in Flanders; Or, the Fighting Canadians of Vimy Ridge by Clair W. Hayes
The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.
"Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress. With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap. Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell. On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered. When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling."
Luna has tried her best to make her forced marriage to Xen work for the sake of their child. But with Riley and Sophia- Xen's ex-girlfriend and her son in the picture. She fights a losing battle. Ollie, Xen's son is neglected by his father for a very long time and he is also suffering from a mysterious sickness that's draining his life force. When his last wish to have his dad come to his 5th birthday party is dashed by his failure to show up, Ollie dies in an accident after seeing his father celebrate Riley's birthday with Sophia and it's displayed on the big advertising boards that fill the city. Ollie dies and Luna follows after, unable to bear the grief, dying in her mate's hands cursing him and begging for a second chance to save her son. Luna gets the opportunity and is woken up in the past, exactly one year to the day Sophia and Riley show up. But this time around, Luna is willing to get rid of everyone and anyone even her mate if he steps in her way to save her son.
Lyric had spent her life being hated. Bullied for her scarred face and hated by everyone-including her own mate-she was always told she was ugly. Her mate only kept her around to gain territory, and the moment he got what he wanted, he rejected her, leaving her broken and alone. Then, she met him. The first man to call her beautiful. The first man to show her what it felt like to be loved. It was only one night, but it changed everything. For Lyric, he was a saint, a savior. For him, she was the only woman that had ever made him cum in bed-a problem he had been battling for years. Lyric thought her life would finally be different, but like everyone else in her life, he lied. And when she found out who he really was, she realized he wasn't just dangerous-he was the kind of man you don't escape from. Lyric wanted to run. She wanted freedom. But she desired to navigate her way and take back her respect, to rise above the ashes. Eventually, she was forced into a dark world she didn't wish to get involved with.
For three years, Cathryn and her husband Liam lived in a sexless marriage. She believed Liam buried himself in work for their future. But on the day her mother died, she learned the truth: he had been cheating with her stepsister since their wedding night. She dropped every hope and filed for divorce. Sneers followed-she'd crawl back, they said. Instead, they saw Liam on his knees in the rain. When a reporter asked about a reunion, she shrugged. "He has no self-respect, just clings to people who don't love him." A powerful tycoon wrapped an arm around her. "Anyone coveting my wife answers to me."
I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.
© 2018-now CHANGDU (HK) TECHNOLOGY LIMITED
6/F MANULIFE PLACE 348 KWUN TONG ROAD KL
TOP
GOOGLE PLAY