CHAPTER XVII
SHIPS AND SIGNALS
AFTER a hasty thump at the door, Garth flung himself in almost before Joan had time to answer. He came, breathless, to her side where she stood before the bureau.
"Come, quick, Joan!" he cried, in much excitement. "What do you suppose? Some destroyers and their flagship have come in! No, you can't see them from this window; they're in the Bay. I saw them from Mudder's room. They're beginning to signal already. Oh, do come! Never mind your necktie! Help me downstairs, please."
Joan promptly seized upon him, and had reached the living-room before he could protest.
"I didn't mean that you were to carry me," he reproached her. "Get the glasses, please,—or the telescope would be better,—and the code-book, too. It's there beside them on the shelf."
Joan gathered up the outfit and followed Garth, who sat down upon the rocks. There were the destroyers without a doubt,—lean, gray shapes lying stiffly outside the harbor, their sharp bows heading into the tide. Already their busy little canvas-backed launches were flying to and fro like so many energetic water-beetles.
"Fogger says the flagship's prob'ly the Billington," said Garth. "I'm glad she's anchored nearest to us, because she'll run up most of the signals. Be all ready with the code-book, Joan, in case they do something suddenly."
Joan, not at all sure of what was expected of her, opened the book and adjusted the marine-glasses to the proper focus. All at once three brightly-colored flags floated up aboard the Billington, and simultaneously the telescope became fixed to Garth's eye.
"Oh, I wish they wouldn't flap so!" he said. "Wait a minute; I see it now! Dog—Cast—Have."
"Would you mind telling me what in the world you're talking about?" said Joan, gazing at him, transfixed.
"Look in the code-book," said Garth. "Those are just names they have for the letters. If they didn't, ones that sound the same, like B and T and C, might get mixed up when the men call out signals."
"Then you mean that Dog, Cast, Have stands for DCH and that DCH stands for a whole sentence?"
"Yes. Oh, do hurry! Never mind, though; they're just answering her with the same thing."
Joan searched through the fluttering pages, looking up and down the columns of signal-letters and their meanings.
"DCF—DCG— Here it is! DCH: Dress. Officers and crews will, the same as yesterday. Why, it really does mean something!" laughed Joan triumphantly.
"Of course it does," said Garth. "That's the uniform order for the day."
"Oh, what fun! I supposed that no one but Admirals, and such people, really knew what the signals meant."
"Anybody can," Garth said. "Of course they don't send war-messages that way, but they don't care who knows about these ones."
"Oh, look!" Joan cried delightedly. "One of the others is doing something! Quick, Garth!"
She snatched up the glasses, while he peered through the telescope.
"Oh, what is it?" he cried. "Mike, on top."
"Then a perfectly criss-cross one, all black and red and yellow and blue!" said Joan.
"That's Zed," said Garth. "What's the bottom one? Oh, I see it now; it's Unit."
"MZU," Joan cried, seizing the code again. "I have it! Require water for drinking and cooking. This is the most exciting thing I've ever done!"
"There goes the Billington, answering her," said Garth. "That's almost like the other one. Mike—Zed, and I think the bottom is Rush—a red square inside a white one, with a blue border, Joan."
"No, that's Watch," she told him, consulting the pictured flags in the book. "MZW: Will send you water. Oh, how nice; they'll have their water, then!"
There ensued a pause when the signaling stopped, and Joan feverishly studied the code, trying to memorize the shapes and colors of the flags and their outlandish names. For this reason she did not see a hoist go up aboard the Billington, till Garth suddenly shouted:
"Easy—Pup—Yoke!"
"How perfectly absurd!" laughed Joan. "Why did they pick out such ridiculous words? EPY. Here we are. Guard-boats will make mail-trip at hour indicated."
"All those other flags mean the hour," said Garth. "Mike, Yoke— What's a yellow flag with a round black spot in the middle?"
"Item," said Joan promptly; "I just learned it."
"There are some more," Garth said. "Numeral—Quack—Unit— Oh, there they go down!"
Joan laughed so hard that she could not look at the code for some minutes.
"Mike yoke item quack unit!" she gasped; "and you do say them so solemnly, Garth!"
After much searching through the signal-book, they came to the conclusion that the guard-boats would make the mail-trip at 8:15 a.m.
"And we mustn't forget to watch for them," said Garth.
"Do you really think they'll go?" Joan wondered.
When they looked up again, a single flag of yellow and black squares hung at the yard-arm of the Billington, Garth got to his feet suddenly.
"That's the preparatory," he said enigmatically.
A fragment of band-music reached them faintly. Garth's hand flew, rigid, to his forehead, and Joan, looking toward the ship, saw the signal gliding down, while slowly the Stars and Stripes rose, floated, and straightened out in the fresh wind.
"Eat your breakfast, please, Garth," said Jim, "and don't keep trying to look out at the door, or you'll fall into your porridge. Those destroyers are not going out before you finish your food."
"Joan is nearly as bad," said Elspeth. "I've an idea that the code-book is concealed in her lap."
Joan grew a shade redder than her sunburn.
"Forgive me!" she begged. "I did want to learn a few more of those flags, to be all ready after breakfast."
"I don't believe that she has any notion of what she's eating," said Jim. "She's probably muttering oboe pup quack to herself."
"Is it quarter after eight yet, Fogger?" Garth asked.
Jim pulled out his watch.
"It is 8:16," he said; "a shockingly late hour for a lighthouse breakfast. Why do you ask?"
Garth was looking beseechingly at his mother.
"Please, may we go and look out?" he implored. "They ordered the guard-boats in with the mail at 8:15, and I think Joan doesn't believe they'll go."
"If it's a question of confirming her faith in the Navy, perhaps we'd better allow her five minutes' leave. Shall we let them, Elspeth?"
"Go, dreadful children!" said Elspeth. "But come back before the rest of your breakfast is entirely cold."
"There goes a little boat now," said Joan, as she reached the doorway and focussed the glasses.
"Has she a flag at the bow?" asked Garth, shading his eyes with his hand.
"Yes; it's a white flag with some spots on it. It looks very much like the Five of Clubs."
"That's the guard flag!" shouted Garth, in triumph. "I told you they'd go, Joan. Of course they always obey orders."
They spent most of the morning watching for signals, and by noon a sheet of paper was well covered with their cryptic notes. None of the messages were of international importance, but each time that she deciphered one, Joan felt as though state secrets could not be more thrilling. The paper contained some such record as this:
- BAZ: (from the Billington): Pipe down scrubbed bags.
- BWQ: Pipe down aired bedding. (All these disappeared.)
- ABS: Recall all absentees.
- ERU: Pipe down washed clothes.
- CNF: There will be time for the crew to get their dinner. ("I do wonder what they're going to do afterward!" said Joan. "And how busy they must be, piping down such a number of things!"
- ERX: Shake out reef in scrubbed hammocks.
"Now that's really absurd!" Joan said. "How do you take a reef in a scrubbed hammock, and why should you want to shake it out? Why, the Billington gives those ships no peace; she's just like a fussy old hen with a brood of chicks—at them every minute."
"What I don't see," said Garth, "is how they can hoist those answer signals so fast. There are perfect heaps of flags all hanging up in order on the signal-bridge. They have to bend them on—three or four of them—and you'd think it would take longer. They weren't hoisting any when I was on the signal-bridge, so I couldn't see how they do it."
"Were you on a destroyer?" Joan asked.
"No; not a destroyer, but a real battleship. It was last year, before we were in the war. Captain Fraser asked us out—he knows Fogger—and he sent in a launch for us. It was awfully exciting. We went all over her, and Captain Fraser showed Fogger and Mudder everything. But I had a nice ensign all for myself, and he carried me down into the stoke-hold. It's not nearly as black as you'd think, and not very hot. And we went up into a gun-turret. That was fun! We sort of wriggled along under it until we came to the little hole where you climb up, and then we went up an iron ladder. I couldn't possibly have done it, if the ensign hadn't been carrying me all the time, but it must have been rather hard for him."
"I should love to go on board a warship," said Joan. "What was it like in the turret?"
"It was very small," said Garth, "and pretty hot. The gun-officer showed me the inside of the gun—oh, it was so shiny and wonderful!—and how they turn it around and slide the shells in. They were practising range-finding, and he showed me about that, too, only I've forgotten it. And we went through such hundreds of places, down where they make ice and turn salt water into fresh, and I didn't understand that at all. And when we went through the kitchen, they were making peach ice-cream for dinner, and they gave me ever such a big dish of it. Fogger and Mudder didn't get any. It was awfully good. The ensign said that they use a hundred dozen eggs for one breakfast."
"Oh, not really!" Joan exclaimed.
"Yes, really! There are a thousand men on the ship, and that would only make about one apiece, wouldn't it?"
"Just imagine feeding such a family!" Joan gasped. "One breakfast, for one ship! Oh, look! All our destroyers are flying a red pennant."
"That means they're eating dinner," said Garth. "They have it very early, don't they! Oh, here's Fogger."
"How long has the Billington been showing the cornet?" Jim asked.
"Is she?" cried Garth. "Oh, quick, then; this is exciting!"
"What do you mean?" questioned Joan.
"Do you see that all-colors-of-the-rainbow flag at the half yardarm?" Jim said. "It means that all ships present are to come to attention and receive a message. Let's have the glass, Garth; they'll probably send it in semaphore."
Joan sat with pencil poised, ready to put down the words.
"Now we shall hear something really important," she said; "an order to go and shoot at a submarine, or something."
"There she goes!" said Jim. "The—Billington—has received—"
"Orders, probably," murmured Joan, scribbling.
"Forty—five—"
"What, I wonder?" whispered Garth.
Jim proceeded steadily, gazing through the glass at the tiny form of a sailor moving his flags on the signal-bridge of the Billington.
"Pounds—of—Cucumbers—"
"Oh, oh!" laughed Joan.
"Which—were—not—ordered—by—her. The—ship—to—which—they—belong—will—please—com—municate—with—the—Billington—at—once."
The three were all laughing so much that they really could not see whether or not one of the destroyers claimed the cucumbers.
"The defenders of our seas!" said Joan. "Oh, what perfect old dears they are in private life!"