“All hands prepare for torpedo practice,” was again the command on the following morning.

At least six torpedoes were to be fired that day, to complete the practice required of each ship. The “Long Island” got up steam and pulled away to a remote part of the bay, so as not to be bothered by the other ships of the fleet. In fact, every ship in the bay was doing the same thing getting off by itself.

The same tactics were to be followed as had been used on the day when the battleship went aground; that is, firing when the ship was traveling at full speed, about seventeen knots an hour.

The red-headed boy was retained on shipboard to attend to the wig-wagging, Dan going out in the motor boat with an engineer and coxswain.

“Red flag up!” shouted Dan. “Keep clear of the course.”

The ship’s siren blew, and soon they saw the path made by the marine monster heading off in their direction. Dan, in the motor boat, was near the extreme end of the range.

“Better sheer off, coxswain, because you can’t tell where the old torpedo is going when it gets near the end of its run. There she goes.”

The torpedo took a long dive at an angle of about forty-five degrees from her course.

“Look where she’s going!”

Off in the direction that the projectile was headed was a fleet of fishermen in small boats, tending to their nets, which were scattered over an area of a quarter of a mile, standing almost end to end.

“Head toward them, head toward them! We must warn them!”

The coxswain was a seaman, not a coxswain by appointment, and he did not appear to be as familiar with the work as he might have been. The regular coxswain of the motor boat was in the sick bay, though Dan did not know this.

“Torpedo heading your way! Look out for her!” he shouted with hands to mouth. “Pull out, men; pull out for your lives!”

The fishermen looked at the Battleship Boy, standing poised on the plunging bow of the motor boat, wondering if he had gone crazy.

“Pull out, I tell you! There she comes!”

The motor boat was driving; ahead full speed.

“They’ll be hit, sure as fate,” groaned the boy. “They can’t see her because they are so low in the water.”

A yell from the fishermen told him that they had made sudden discovery of their peril. Dan, with his wig-wag flag, motioned to them to separate at a certain point. For a wonder they understood and laid to their oars in great haste.

All at once from the water right at the side of one of the fishing boats the torpedo emerged. It missed the boat by a matter of inches only, but the tail of the projectile hooked the keel. Like a flash the fishing boat turned over and the men were scrambling in the water.

“Drive in there, full speed!” commanded Dan.

“We’ll get fouled in the fish nets.”

“Never mind the nets. Those men may drown. Drive in there, I say!”

The man at the wheel did as the Battleship Boy had ordered him to.

“Now, slow down. Drift in.”

A moment more and the life lines shot out, a half dozen wet and angry fishermen being hauled aboard the motor boat. The men were fighting angry.

Shaking the water from their clothes, they started for Dan with angry imprecations. Not only had they been upset, but they discovered that the truant torpedo was driving through their nets. Yells of rage from the fishermen in other boats told Dan that they, too, had discovered what was occurring.

On went the torpedo, ripping net after net. It seemed bent upon destruction, for, after passing through all the nets in its course, it turned almost squarely about and dived through the rest of the nets. Every net, with its burden of fish, was utterly destroyed.

Dan grabbed up a boat hook as he saw the rescued men meant business.

“Stand back!” he commanded. “I’ll smash the first one of you who comes forward. Ahoy there, fishing boats. Come up here and take these men off, and no nonsense about it, either.”

The men hesitated.

“Throw him overboard!” cried a more turbulent spirit.

“Try it, if you want to, men, but I warn you this is a government boat. If you commit an assault on board, or on one of its crew, you will be in for a long term in a federal prison. Think you want to take that chance?”

That settled it. The men realized that the young sailor was right, and their anger cooled almost at once.

“The government will pay you for all the damage done to your nets, as you well know. Draw alongside here,” he commanded to one of the boats. “Back out, coxswain. We are drifting around into the nets.”

Dan wig-wagged to one of the whaleboats, asking them to row in and make fast to the torpedo, for his own boat could get in no further. The fishermen, thinking he was signaling for assistance, did not wait for the fishing boat that was coming to take them off. They sprang overboard and swam for the boat.

“You didn’t have to do that,” called Dan. “You’ll be saying next that we made you jump overboard.”

The whaleboat made fast to the torpedo very quickly; then one of the steamers towed the huge projectile back to the ship, where it was hoisted aboard.

For the next shot the motor boat took up its station down nearer to the ship, about half way between the end of the range and the battleship. Orders from the ship were to have the whaleboats take positions at the end of the course. They, being of lesser draught, could get in closer to shore and could get the torpedo out in case it drove into shallow water as before.

Near by lay steamer number two with twelve men and an ensign on board. Both the motor boat and the steamer cruised slowly about while waiting for the red flag to go up on the signal halyard, warning them that another shot was about to be fired.

“Lay back farther,” came the signal from the battleship.

“Motor boat or steamer?” wig-wagged Dan.

“Both.”

“Steamer there!” called Dan.

“Aye, aye.”

“Battleship orders you to lay back farther, and to keep off the course.”

The steamer shifted its position, and Dan’s boat pulled farther away, at the same time moving off a little more toward the shore. The two boats were now on opposite sides of the course that the torpedo was expected to travel, though one can never be sure just where these instruments of war are likely to go.

“Battleship under way,” signaled Dan to the other small boats out on the field.

For a time he watched the warship that was heading for the other side of the bay. Finally the ship turned and started back, with a big, white “bone between her teeth,” as the saying goes when a ship is plowing up the sea.

“Red flag going up,” called the signal boy. “Wherry, there, ordered to lay to starboard of the target,” he signaled to the little boat dancing on the waves half a mile away.

The small boat quickly took its position as ordered from the ship.

The siren blew a long blast, and with eyes turned toward the ship, all the boat crews pulled back to a safe distance.

“Torpedo on the way,” signaled Sam Hickey from his position on the ship.

“Torpedo under way,” wig-wagged Dan Davis to the other boats. “Get under way, the battleship signals,” he told the little fleet.

At the same time the motor boat started along the course that the torpedo was expected to follow, the small steamer a little in the lead.

“She’s running close to the surface,” muttered the Battleship Boy, watching the projectile. “I can see the water spurting from her bows. She’ll never complete the run.”

He turned to look at the steamer. He observed that she was at right angles to the course.

“Sheer off! Sheer off!” shouted Dan. “You’re right on the course. You’ll be hit!”

“We’re disabled. Motor boat, there!” shouted the ensign in the small steamer.

“Aye, aye, answered Dan.

“Lay over and help us out. We’ve thrown our propeller.”

“Full speed ahead. May I take the tiller?”

The acting coxswain good-naturedly stepped aside, Dan taking the steering wheel of the motor boat from his hands.

The lad’s eyes traveled rapidly from the advancing torpedo to the steamer that was rolling on a heavy swell, her crew of more than a dozen men leaning over the side, straining their eyes to make out the torpedo.

“She’s going to strike us, sir,” shouted the coxswain.

“Can’t help it,” answered the ensign. “All hands be ready to go overboard when I give the command. Some of us will be caught. We don’t know where she is going to hit us.”

The officer knew that only a miracle could save some of his crew from being crushed to death when the heavy torpedo struck the little steamer. To move the men to safe parts of the boat was not possible, for it was impossible to say where the projectile would strike. Perhaps she might change her course and not hit them at all. That seemed to be the only hope now.

Turning their eyes, they saw the motor boat smashing through the sea, throwing the water high from her bows. Dan Davis was leaning well forward, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the engine control, his eyes watching the torpedo and the steamer.

Now he would slow down ever so little, then drive ahead at full speed, as if jockeying to cross the line in an international race.

The ensign was watching him with fascinated interest. He knew that the boy had some daring plan in mind, but what that plan was he could not understand. The officer was on the point of shouting to the Battleship Boy to turn in and push them out of the way, but he refrained.

Dan had thought of this very thing, but he knew the chances were against his being able to do so. He chose a bolder and more brilliant way of saving the boat’s crew, or of trying to save them.

The engineer of the motor boat was under the hood watching the engines.

“Get out of there quick!” commanded Dan.

The engineer came tumbling out from his cramped quarters.

“What what ” he exclaimed.

“Keep still! Don’t talk to me. All hands hold fast, for something is going to happen in a minute.”

At that instant the lad swung the bow of his boat about, heading it directly toward the course of the advancing torpedo.

“Look out! You’ll run into her!” yelled the engineer. “Don’t you see she’s just under the surface. She’ll be on top there she is now!”

“Stand fast!” roared the boy.

Torpedo and motor boat were driving toward a point where they must surely meet. Now Dan threw the speed full on.

Ere any of those wide-eyed observers realized what was occurring, the crash came.

The prow of the motor boat and the nose of the torpedo met with a crash that was heard far down the line. For a brief instant, projectile and boat rose into the air like two locomotives in a head-on collision.

Dan Davis was lifted clear off his feet and hurled through the air, head first, into the sea. The motor boat settled back and began filling with water, half drowning the two stunned seamen who lay in the bottom of the boat. The torpedo, however, like some living monster of the deep, seemed to shake herself angrily, then she settled down and shot forward, barely grazing the stern of the steamer.

Dan Davis’ heroic effort had deflected the torpedo slightly from its course, just enough to cause it to clear the little steamer, thus saving the lives of at least part of the crew aboard her. A life ring at the end of a rope brought Dan out of the salt water not much the worse for his thrilling experience.

“How’s the motor boat?” was his first question.

“Pretty hard hit, I guess,” answered the ensign. “But that doesn’t matter.”

The other steamer, having observed that an accident had occurred, put on all steam and hastened to the scene of the wreck. About that time some one discovered that the ship was making signals, and the ensign asked Dan if he felt able to answer them.

For answer the lad asked for a signal flag. One was placed in his hands, together with a spy glass.

“Battleship asking what the trouble is,” he called.

“Tell them.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“And, while you are about it, you might tell them that Seaman Davis, by his quick wit and pluck, saved the steamer and perhaps all our lives.”

“Is that a command, sir?”

“No. Only a suggestion,” answered the ensign, with an indulgent smile, as he noted the boy’s confusion.

“Battleship signaling for motor boat and steamer to return, sir.”

“Tell them we both will have to come in in tow, then.”

“Orders for second steamer to tow us in, sir.”

The ensign gave the order to the other steamer.

While all this was going on a whaleboat had run alongside the motor boat and had taken off the two men who had been left on her. They were more or less dazed, but not seriously hurt. A brief examination of the motor boat’s engine developed the fact that the engine had been wrenched loose from its foundation. The nose of the boat had been badly smashed.

Dan was of the opinion, however, that the damage to the boat could be repaired in a day. Things were not nearly so bad as they looked to be at first glance.

The two disabled boats, towed by the steamer, made their way slowly back to the ship.

“This torpedo practice has been a fine piece of business,” Dan confided to a shipmate. “It strikes me that this will be a good time to quit, or somebody will get hurt.”

“I guess you are it, then. You’ll catch it when the captain sees his motor boat,” answered the other, with a laugh.

The captain’s lips pursed as, through his glasses, he made out the broken bow of his boat. He said nothing until Dan and the ensign had boarded the battleship.

“Ensign, who is responsible for the condition of that boat?” he demanded.

The ensign stepped aside and held a few moments’ earnest conversation with the commanding officer. As he went on the stern expression on the captain’s face gave place to one of admiration. He nodded his head approvingly. Those who did not understand how the motor boat had been wrecked, felt sorry for Seaman Davis. In fact, Dan was beginning to feel sorry for himself, as he realized what he had done.

“Davis, come here!” commanded the captain.

The boy approached, saluting.

“Mr. Brant has told me the story of your brilliant exploit. I congratulate you, my lad.”

“I I am sorry, sir, that I smashed your boat.”

“What is the boat when compared to a human life?”

“That that is what I thought, sir. I did not think you would feel very sorry about the boat when you knew.”

“I should say not. But what about your own life? You gave no thought to that, did you?”

“N no, sir.”

“That is the way with all brave men, and that act of yours was one of the bravest I have ever seen. I want every man on board this ship to know about it to hear the full story. Mr. Coates,” beckoning to the executive officer.

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“Call a general muster on the quarter-deck to-night and read my commendation of Seaman Davis’ heroic conduct.”

“Aye, aye, sir,”

“But, Davis, I am sorry to say that your racing ambitions will not be gratified this fall.”

Dan’s face showed his disappointment, but he said no word.

“The first torpedo, one of the unlucky ones, fell on Boatswain’s Mate Harper as it was being hoisted aboard, and broke a leg. Some one was to blame for the accident. I do not know who, but I shall know.”

“Oh, that is too bad!” breathed Dan, turning away to his disappointment.

“It’s all off, Sam,” he said when a few minutes later he joined his chum.

“What’s off!”

“The race we were to row day after to-morrow.”

“On account of Joe Harper?”

“Yes, have you seen him?”

“No; I guess they won’t let anybody see him to-day.”

The boys went about their work for the rest of the day with downcast countenances. The entire crew was in the doldrums. All their hopes, pinned to the “Long Island’s” racing crew, had been suddenly dashed. A race now seemed out of the question. There was neither laughter nor song in the forecastle that night. All hands went to bed surly and disgusted.

On the following morning the captain’s orderly called Dan Davis from his gun station, with the information that the captain directed Seaman Davis to proceed to the sick bay to see Boatswain’s Mate Harper.

Dan obeyed the order, wondering at its having come to him through the source it did.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Harper,” said the lad as he entered the sick bay, and the boatswain’s mate extended a hand to him. “I’m sorry for the race, and I am sorry for you. It’s too bad.”

“Yes; I’ve got a bad knockout. I don’t believe my leg ever will be right. I guess they will retire me, all right. But that isn’t what I sent for you to talk about. I want to talk about the race.”

“The race? Why, there won’t be any race now that is, so far as we are concerned. Some of the other ships will carry off the cup now.”

Harper smiled wanly.

“There must be. The crew must run the race just the same.”

“But it will not be possible without you.”

“Perhaps there is no one on board who understands the racing game quite as well as I do. I have run many of these gig races, Davis. But there is one man on board in whom I have great confidence. He has the pluck. He knows rowing. Even if he doesn’t win, which could hardly be expected of him, he’ll make some of the other fellows work for their laurels.”

Dan’s eyes were glowing.

“I I am so glad to hear you say that, Mr. Harper. That is good news, indeed. Then we will have the race after all?”

“Yes; the race will be run. They shall not have an opportunity to say that the battleship ‘Long Island’ got cold feet at the last minute.”

“They’d better not say it before me,” answered Dan in a low voice.

“That’s the talk!”

“May I ask who the man is who will act as coxswain of the racing gig in to-morrow’s race, sir?”

“Yes, you may. You will be surprised when I tell you. The man who is going to run the ‘Long Island’s’ boat is named Daniel Davis.”

“Da Da I I am to be coxswain to-morrow?” gasped the boy.

“Yes, you, Dan. And you’re going to do yourself and every man on this great ship proud.”

Dan sat down in a chair rather suddenly. His face was pale and his eyes seemed larger than usual.

“I I am to race the crew?”

“You are to race the crew. I have asked that you be released from duty to-day. Go off somewhere by yourself and think it over. Get your balance; then come back here and we will talk it over.”

Dan walked out of the sick bay without a word. His emotions were so great that he could not talk.