“Gentlemen,” he announced, “the sea appears to be infested, at this point, with unseen enemy craft.  Ours, among other transports, has narrowly dodged two torpedoes.  It is quite within the limits of possibility that we may be struck at any moment.  The commanding officer therefore requests me to ask that company officers, especially second lieutenants, finish their meal as quickly as possible and station themselves near their men.  This is not to be done hurriedly, or with any sign of excitement, but merely in order that, if we should be struck, discipline may be preserved effectively.”

There was no excitement.  Second lieutenants finished the morsels on which they were engaged, some of them washing down the food with a final gulp of coffee.  Then, without undue haste, they left the dining-room by twos or threes.

Adjutant Craig watched them with nods of satisfaction.

“That was the right way for them to leave,” he told Dick.  “We do not want to throw any extra excitement in among the enlisted men, but we want them to feel that their officers are standing by, and that, at need, there will be disciplined rescue work.”

Soon after the last of the platoon leaders had vanished the captains and first lieutenants made their way to the decks above.

Contrary to German reports that American soldiers are kept mostly between decks while transports are in the danger zone, the decks fore and aft were crowded with men of the Ninety-ninth.  Those who stood nearest to the rails felt that they had the best vantage points from which to see what was going on.  It was with eager interest, not fear, that the soldiers took in all that was visible of the fleet’s progress and the work of the destroyers to protect the troopships from disaster.

From northward and slightly ahead of the course of the troopship of the Ninety-ninth a swift destroyer could be seen darting over the waves.  As she came closer it seemed to the Army beholders that she traveled with the speed of an express train.

“Worth watching, and every officer and man visible on her looks and acts like a piece of the machinery,” commented Major Wells, passing Prescott an extended field glass.  “Want to take a look at her?”

“Why, I’d know that tall officer on her bridge anywhere in the world if I had as good a view of him as I have now,” uttered Dick delightedly.

“Old Darry?” inquired Greg Holmes.

“No one else.  Take a look at him.  Next to the last officer on the port side of the bridge.”

The instant that the glass gave him a sight of the familiar face Captain Holmes uttered a whoop.

“Darry himself, and sure enough!” Greg exclaimed.  “Wonder what he’s heading in so close for?”

“He knows what he’s doing,” Prescott returned.  “Don’t worry about that.”

“I don’t,” Greg retorted cheerfully.  With a rounding sweep the destroyer commanded by Dave Darrin turned out of the way of the troopship, then came up close, on the same course, scooting by.