Functional Programming in Scala 1st Edition Paul Chiusano

Functional Programming in Scala 1st Edition Paul
Chiusano download pdf
https://ebookfinal.com/download/functional-programming-in-scala-1st-
edition-paul-chiusano/
Visit ebookfinal.com today to download the complete set of
ebook or textbook!

Here are some recommended products that we believe you will be
interested in. You can click the link to download.
Programming in Scala 1st Edition Martin Odersky
https://ebookfinal.com/download/programming-in-scala-1st-edition-
martin-odersky/
Programming in Scala A Comprehensive Step by Step Guide
Third Edition Martin Odersky
https://ebookfinal.com/download/programming-in-scala-a-comprehensive-
step-by-step-guide-third-edition-martin-odersky/
Introducing Elixir Getting Started in Functional
Programming 1st Edition Simon St. Laurent
https://ebookfinal.com/download/introducing-elixir-getting-started-in-
functional-programming-1st-edition-simon-st-laurent/
Functional Programming in C Classic Programming Techniques
for Modern Projects Wrox Programmer to Programmer 1st
Edition Oliver Sturm
https://ebookfinal.com/download/functional-programming-in-c-classic-
programming-techniques-for-modern-projects-wrox-programmer-to-
programmer-1st-edition-oliver-sturm/

Scala in Action Nilanjan Raychaudhuri
https://ebookfinal.com/download/scala-in-action-nilanjan-raychaudhuri/
Programming architecture Paul Coates
https://ebookfinal.com/download/programming-architecture-paul-coates/
Introducing Elixir Getting Started in Functional
Programming 2nd Edition Edition Simon St. Laurent
https://ebookfinal.com/download/introducing-elixir-getting-started-in-
functional-programming-2nd-edition-edition-simon-st-laurent/
Desire in the Canterbury Tales 1st Edition Elizabeth Scala
https://ebookfinal.com/download/desire-in-the-canterbury-tales-1st-
edition-elizabeth-scala/
Scala Design Patterns 1st Edition Nikolov
https://ebookfinal.com/download/scala-design-patterns-1st-edition-
nikolov/

Functional Programming in Scala 1st Edition Paul
Chiusano Digital Instant Download
Author(s): Paul Chiusano, RÃºnar Bjarnason
ISBN(s): 9781617290657, 1617290653
Edition: 1
File Details: PDF, 12.01 MB
Year: 2014
Language: english

Functional Programming in Scala
Licensed to Emre Sevinc <emre.sevinc@gmail.com>

Functional Programming
in Scala
PAUL CHIUSANO
RÚNAR BJARNASON
M A N N I N G
SHELTER ISLAND

For online information and ordering of this and other Manning books, please visit
www.manning.com. The publisher offers discounts on this book when ordered in quantity.
For more information, please contact
Special Sales Department
Manning Publications Co.
20 Baldwin Road
PO Box 761
Shelter Island, NY 11964
Email: orders@manning.com
©2015 by Manning Publications Co. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in
any form or by means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without prior written
permission of the publisher.
Many of the designations used by manufacturers and sellers to distinguish their products are
claimed as trademarks. Where those designations appear in the book, and Manning
Publications was aware of a trademark claim, the designations have been printed in initial caps
or all caps.
Recognizing the importance of preserving what has been written, it is Manning’s policy to have
the books we publish printed on acid-free paper, and we exert our best efforts to that end.
Recognizing also our responsibility to conserve the resources of our planet, Manning books
are printed on paper that is at least 15 percent recycled and processed without the use of
elemental chlorine.
Development editor: Jeff Bleiel
Manning Publications Co. Copyeditor: Benjamin Berg
20 Baldwin Road Proofreader: Katie Tennant
PO Box 261 Project editor: Janet Vail
Shelter Island, NY 11964 Typesetter: Dottie Marsico
Illustrator: Chuck Larson
Cover designer: Irene Scala
ISBN 9781617290657
Printed in the United States of America
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 – EBM – 19 18 17 16 15 14

v
brief contents
PART 1 INTRODUCTION TO FUNCTIONAL PROGRAMMING ...........1
1 ■ What is functional programming? 3
2 ■ Getting started with functional programming in Scala 14
3 ■ Functional data structures 29
4 ■ Handling errors without exceptions 48
5 ■ Strictness and laziness 64
6 ■ Purely functional state 78
PART 2 FUNCTIONAL DESIGN AND COMBINATOR LIBRARIES ......93
7 ■ Purely functional parallelism 95
8 ■ Property-based testing 124
9 ■ Parser combinators 146
PART 3 COMMON STRUCTURES IN FUNCTIONAL DESIGN .........173
10 ■ Monoids 175
11 ■ Monads 187
12 ■ Applicative and traversable functors 205
PART 4 EFFECTS AND I/O .....................................................227
13 ■ External effects and I/O 229
14 ■ Local effects and mutable state 254
15 ■ Stream processing and incremental I/O 268

vii
contents
foreword xiii
preface xv
acknowledgments xvi
about this book xvii
PART 1 INTRODUCTION TO FUNCTIONAL PROGRAMMING .......1
1 What is functional programming? 3
1.1 The benefits of FP: a simple example 4
A program with side effects 4 ■
A functional solution: removing the
side effects 6
1.2 Exactly what is a (pure) function? 9
1.3 Referential transparency, purity, and the
substitution model 10
1.4 Summary 13
2 Getting started with functional programming in Scala 14
2.1 Introducing Scala the language: an example 15
2.2 Running our program 17
2.3 Modules, objects, and namespaces 18
2.4 Higher-order functions: passing functions to
functions 19
A short detour: writing loops functionally 20 ■
Writing our
first higher-order function 21

CONTENTS
viii
2.5 Polymorphic functions: abstracting over types 22
An example of a polymorphic function 23 ■
Calling HOFs with
anonymous functions 24
2.6 Following types to implementations 25
2.7 Summary 28
3 Functional data structures 29
3.1 Defining functional data structures 29
3.2 Pattern matching 32
3.3 Data sharing in functional data structures 35
The efficiency of data sharing 36 ■
Improving type inference
for higher-order functions 37
3.4 Recursion over lists and generalizing to higher-order
functions 38
More functions for working with lists 41 ■
Loss of efficiency
when assembling list functions from simpler components 44
3.5 Trees 44
3.6 Summary 47
4 Handling errors without exceptions 48
4.1 The good and bad aspects of exceptions 48
4.2 Possible alternatives to exceptions 50
4.3 The Option data type 52
Usage patterns for Option 53 ■
Option composition, lifting,
and wrapping exception-oriented APIs 56
4.4 The Either data type 60
4.5 Summary 63
5 Strictness and laziness 64
5.1 Strict and non-strict functions 65
5.2 An extended example: lazy lists 68
Memoizing streams and avoiding recomputation 69 ■
Helper
functions for inspecting streams 69
5.3 Separating program description from evaluation 70
5.4 Infinite streams and corecursion 73
5.5 Summary 77

CONTENTS ix
6 Purely functional state 78
6.1 Generating random numbers using side effects 78
6.2 Purely functional random number generation 80
6.3 Making stateful APIs pure 81
6.4 A better API for state actions 84
Combining state actions 85 ■
Nesting state actions 86
6.5 A general state action data type 87
6.6 Purely functional imperative programming 88
6.7 Summary 91
PART 2 FUNCTIONAL DESIGN AND COMBINATOR LIBRARIES...93
7 Purely functional parallelism 95
7.1 Choosing data types and functions 96
A data type for parallel computations 97 ■
Combining parallel
computations 100 ■
Explicit forking 102
7.2 Picking a representation 104
7.3 Refining the API 105
7.4 The algebra of an API 110
The law of mapping 110 ■
The law of forking 112
Breaking the law: a subtle bug 113 ■
A fully non-blocking
Par implementation using actors 115
7.5 Refining combinators to their most general form 120
7.6 Summary 123
8 Property-based testing 124
8.1 A brief tour of property-based testing 124
8.2 Choosing data types and functions 127
Initial snippets of an API 127 ■
The meaning and API of
properties 128 ■
The meaning and API of generators 130
Generators that depend on generated values 131 ■
Refining the
Prop data type 132
8.3 Test case minimization 134
8.4 Using the library and improving its usability 136
Some simple examples 137 ■
Writing a test suite for parallel
computations 138
8.5 Testing higher-order functions and future directions 142

CONTENTS
x
8.6 The laws of generators 144
8.7 Summary 144
9 Parser combinators 146
9.1 Designing an algebra, first 147
9.2 A possible algebra 152
Slicing and nonempty repetition 154
9.3 Handling context sensitivity 156
9.4 Writing a JSON parser 158
The JSON format 158 ■
A JSON parser 159
9.5 Error reporting 160
A possible design 161 ■
Error nesting 162
Controlling branching and backtracking 163
9.6 Implementing the algebra 165
One possible implementation 166 ■
Sequencing parsers 166
Labeling parsers 167 ■
Failover and backtracking 168
Context-sensitive parsing 169
9.7 Summary 171
PART 3 COMMON STRUCTURES IN FUNCTIONAL DESIGN......173
10 Monoids 175
10.1 What is a monoid? 175
10.2 Folding lists with monoids 178
10.3 Associativity and parallelism 179
10.4 Example: Parallel parsing 181
10.5 Foldable data structures 183
10.6 Composing monoids 184
Assembling more complex monoids 185 ■
Using composed
monoids to fuse traversals 186
10.7 Summary 186
11 Monads 187
11.1 Functors: generalizing the map function 187
Functor laws 189

CONTENTS xi
11.2 Monads: generalizing the flatMap and unit functions 190
The Monad trait 191
11.3 Monadic combinators 193
11.4 Monad laws 194
The associative law 194 ■
Proving the associative law for a specific
monad 196 ■
The identity laws 197
11.5 Just what is a monad? 198
The identity monad 199 ■
The State monad and partial type
application 200
11.6 Summary 204
12 Applicative and traversable functors 205
12.1 Generalizing monads 205
12.2 The Applicative trait 206
12.3 The difference between monads and applicative
functors 208
The Option applicative versus the Option monad 209
The Parser applicative versus the Parser monad 210
12.4 The advantages of applicative functors 211
Not all applicative functors are monads 211
12.5 The applicative laws 214
Left and right identity 214 ■
Associativity 215
Naturality of product 216
12.6 Traversable functors 218
12.7 Uses of Traverse 219
From monoids to applicative functors 220 ■
Traversals with
State 221 ■
Combining traversable structures 223 ■
Traversal
fusion 224 ■
Nested traversals 224 ■
Monad composition 225
12.8 Summary 226
PART 4 EFFECTS AND I/O .................................................227
13 External effects and I/O 229
13.1 Factoring effects 229

CONTENTS
xii
13.2 A simple IO type 231
Handling input effects 232 ■
Benefits and drawbacks of
the simple IO type 235
13.3 Avoiding the StackOverflowError 237
Reifying control flow as data constructors 237
Trampolining: a general solution to stack overflow 239
13.4 A more nuanced IO type 241
Reasonably priced monads 242 ■
A monad that supports only
console I/O 243 ■
Pure interpreters 246
13.5 Non-blocking and asynchronous I/O 247
13.6 A general-purpose IO type 250
The main program at the end of the universe 250
13.7 Why the IO type is insufficient for streaming I/O 251
13.8 Summary 253
14 Local effects and mutable state 254
14.1 Purely functional mutable state 254
14.2 A data type to enforce scoping of side effects 256
A little language for scoped mutation 256 ■
An algebra of
mutable references 258 ■
Running mutable state actions 259
Mutable arrays 262 ■
A purely functional in-place quicksort 263
14.3 Purity is contextual 264
What counts as a side effect? 266
14.4 Summary 267
15 Stream processing and incremental I/O 268
15.1 Problems with imperative I/O: an example 268
15.2 Simple stream transducers 271
Creating processes 272 ■
Composing and appending
processes 275 ■
Processing files 278
15.3 An extensible process type 278
Sources 281 ■
Ensuring resource safety 283 ■
Single-input
processes 285 ■
Multiple input streams 287 ■
Sinks 290
Effectful channels 291 ■
Dynamic resource allocation 291
15.4 Applications 292
15.5 Summary 293
index 295

xiii
foreword
Functional Programming in Scala is an intriguing title. After all, Scala is generally called
a functional programming language and there are dozens of books about Scala on
the market. Are all these other books missing the functional aspects of the language?
To answer the question it’s instructive to dig a bit deeper. What is functional
programming? For me, it’s simply an alias for “programming with functions,” that is, a
programming style that puts the focus on the functions in a program. What are func-
tions? Here, we find a larger spectrum of definitions. While one definition often
admits functions that may have side effects in addition to returning a result, pure
functional programming restricts functions to be as they are in mathematics: binary
relations that map arguments to results.
Scala is an impure functional programming language in that it admits impure as
well as pure functions, and in that it does not try to distinguish between these catego-
ries by using different syntax or giving them different types. It shares this property
with most other functional languages. It would be nice if we could distinguish pure
and impure functions in Scala, but I believe we have not yet found a way to do so that
is lightweight and flexible enough to be added to Scala without hesitation.
To be sure, Scala programmers are generally encouraged to use pure functions.
Side effects such as mutation, I/O, or use of exceptions are not ruled out, and they
can indeed come in quite handy sometimes, be it for reasons of interoperability, effi-
ciency, or convenience. But overusing side effects is generally not considered good
style by experts. Nevertheless, since impure programs are possible and even conve-
nient to write in Scala, there is a temptation for programmers coming from a more
imperative background to keep their style and not make the necessary effort to adapt
to the functional mindset. In fact, it’s quite possible to write Scala as if it were Java
without the semicolons.
So to properly learn functional programming in Scala, should one make a detour
via a pure functional language such as Haskell? Any argument in favor of this

approach has been severely weakened by the appearance of Functional Programming
in Scala.
What Paul and Rúnar do, put simply, is treat Scala as a pure functional program-
ming language. Mutable variables, exceptions, classical input/output, and all other
traces of impurity are eliminated. If you wonder how one can write useful programs
without any of these conveniences, you need to read the book. Building up from first
principles and extending all the way to incremental input and output, they demon-
strate that, indeed, one can express every concept using only pure functions. And they
show that it is not only possible, but that it also leads to beautiful code and deep
insights into the nature of computation.
The book is challenging, both because it demands attention to detail and because
it might challenge the way you think about programming. By reading the book and
doing the recommended exercises, you will develop a better appreciation of what pure
functional programming is, what it can express, and what its benefits are.
What I particularly liked about the book is that it is self-contained. It starts with the
simplest possible expressions and every abstraction is explained in detail before fur-
ther abstractions are built on them in turn. In a sense, the book develops an alterna-
tive Scala universe, where mutable state does not exist and all functions are pure.
Commonly used Scala libraries tend to deviate a bit from this ideal; often they are
based on a partly imperative implementation with a (mostly) functional interface.
That Scala allows the encapsulation of mutable state in a functional interface is, in my
opinion, one of its strengths. But it is a capability that is also often misused. If you find
yourself using it too often, Functional Programming in Scala is a powerful antidote.
MARTIN ODERSKY
CREATOR OF SCALA

xv
preface
Writing good software is hard. After years of struggling with other approaches, both of
us discovered and fell in love with functional programming (FP). Though the FP
approach is different, we came to appreciate how the discipline leads to a coherent,
composable, and beautiful way of writing programs.
Both of us participated in the Boston Area Scala Enthusiasts, a group that met reg-
ularly in Cambridge. When the group first started, it mainly consisted of Java pro-
grammers who were looking for something better. Many expressed frustration that
there wasn’t a clear way to learn how to take advantage of FP in Scala. We could empa-
thize—we had both learned FP somewhat haphazardly, by writing lots of functional
code, talking to and learning from other Scala and Haskell programmers, and reading
a patchwork of different articles, blog posts, and books. It felt like there should be an
easier way. In April 2010 one of the group’s organizers, Nermin Šerifović, suggested
that we write a book specifically on the topic of FP in Scala. Based on our learning
experiences, we had a clear idea of the kind of book we wanted to write, and we
thought it would be quick and easy. More than four years later, we think we have cre-
ated a good book. It’s the book we wish had existed when we were learning functional
programming.
We hope to convey in this book some of the excitement that we felt when we were
first discovering FP.

xvi
acknowledgments
We would like to thank the many people who participated in the creation of this book.
To Nermin Šerifović, our friend from the Boston Scala group, thank you for first
planting the seed of this book in our minds.
To the amazing team at Capital IQ, thank you for your support and for bravely
helping beta test the first version of the book’s curriculum.
We would like to especially acknowledge Tony Morris for embarking on this jour-
ney with us. His work on the early stages of the book remains invaluable, as does his
larger contribution to the practice of functional programming in Scala.
Martin, thank you for your wonderful foreword, and of course for creating this
powerful language that is helping to reshape our industry.
During the book-writing process, we were grateful for the encouragement from
the enthusiastic community of Scala users interested in functional programming. To
our reviewers, MEAP readers, and everyone else who provided feedback or submitted
bug reports and pull requests, thank you! This book would not be what it is today with-
out your help.
Special thanks to our development editor Jeff Bleiel, our graphics editor Ben
Kovitz, our technical proofreader Tom Lockney, and everyone else at Manning who
helped make this a better book, including the following reviewers who read the
manuscript at various stages of its development: Ashton Hepburn, Bennett Andrews,
Chris Marshall, Chris Nauroth, Cody Koeninger, Dave Cleaver, Douglas Alan, Eric
Torreborre, Erich W. Schreiner, Fernando Dobladez, Ionut
, G. Stan, Jeton Bacaj, Kai
Gellien, Luc Duponcheel, Mark Janssen, Michael Smolyak, Ravindra Jaju, Rintcius
Blok, Rod Hilton, Sebastien Nichele, Sukant Hajra, Thad Meyer, Will Hayworth, and
William E. Wheeler.
Lastly, Sunita and Allison, thank you so much for your support throughout our
multi-year odyssey to make this book a reality.

xvii
about this book
This is not a book about Scala. This book is an introduction to functional programming
(FP), a radical, principled approach to writing software. We use Scala as the vehicle to
get there, but you can apply the lessons herein to programming in any language. As
you work through this book, our goal is for you to gain a firm grasp of functional pro-
gramming concepts, become comfortable writing purely functional programs, and be
able to absorb new material on the subject, beyond what we cover here.
How this book is structured
The book is organized into four parts. In part 1, we talk about exactly what functional
programming is and introduce some core concepts. The chapters in part 1 give an
overview of fundamental techniques like how to organize small functional programs,
define purely functional data structures, handle errors, and deal with state.
Building on this foundation, part 2 is a series of tutorials on functional design. We
work through some examples of practical functional libraries, laying bare the thought
process that goes into designing them.
While working through the libraries in part 2, it will become clear to you that these
libraries follow certain patterns and contain some duplication. This will highlight the
need for new and higher abstractions for writing more generalized libraries, and we
introduce those abstractions in part 3. These are very powerful tools for reasoning
about your code. Once you master them, they hold the promise of making you
extraordinarily productive as a programmer.
Part 4 then bridges the remainder of the gap towards writing real-world applica-
tions that perform I/O (like working with databases, files, or video displays) and make
use of mutable state, all in a purely functional way.
Throughout the book, we rely heavily on programming exercises, carefully
sequenced to help you internalize the material. To understand functional program-
ming, it’s not enough to learn the theory abstractly. You have to fire up your text editor

ABOUT THIS BOOK
xviii
and write some code. You have to take the theory that you have learned and put it into
practice in your work.
We’ve also provided online notes for all the chapters. Each chapter has a section
with discussion related to that chapter, along with links to further material. These
chapter notes are meant to be expanded by the community of readers, and are avail-
able as an editable wiki at https://github.com/fpinscala/fpinscala/wiki.
Audience
This book is intended for readers with at least some programming experience. We
had a particular kind of reader in mind while writing the book—an intermediate-level
Java or C programmer who is curious about functional programming. But we believe
this book is well suited for programmers coming from any language, at any level of
experience.
Prior expertise is not as important as motivation and curiosity. Functional pro-
gramming is a lot of fun, but it’s a challenging topic. It may be especially challenging
for the most experienced programmers, because it requires such a different way of
thinking than they might be used to. No matter how long you have been program-
ming, you must come prepared to be a beginner once again.
This book does not require any prior experience with Scala, but we won’t spend a
lot of time and space discussing Scala’s syntax and language features. Instead we will
introduce them as we go, with minimal ceremony, mostly as a consequence of cover-
ing other material. These introductions to Scala should be enough to get you started
with the exercises. If you have further questions about the Scala language, you should
supplement your reading with another book on Scala (http://scala-lang.org/
documentation/books.html) or look up specific questions in the Scala language doc-
umentation (http://scala-lang.org/documentation/).
How to read this book
Although the book can be read sequentially straight through, the sequencing of the
four parts is designed so that you can comfortably break between them, apply what
you have learned to your own work, and then come back later for the next part. For
example, the material in part 4 will make the most sense after you have a strong famil-
iarity with the functional style of programming developed in parts 1, 2, and 3. After
part 3, it may be a good idea to take a break and try getting more practice writing
functional programs beyond the exercises we work on in the chapters. Of course, this
is ultimately up to you.
Most chapters in this book have a similar structure. We introduce some new idea or
technique, explain it with an example, and then work through a number of exercises.
We strongly suggest that you download the exercise source code and do the exercises as
you go through each chapter. Exercises, hints, and answers are all available at https://
github.com/fpinscala/fpinscla. We also encourage you to visit the scala-functional

ABOUT THIS BOOK xix
Google group (https://groups.google.com/forum/#!topic/scala-functional/) and
the #fp-in-scala IRC channel on irc.freenode.net for questions and discussion.
Exercises are marked for both their difficulty and importance. We will mark exer-
cises that we think are hard or that we consider to be optional to understanding the
material. The hard designation is our effort to give you some idea of what to expect—
it is only our guess and you may find some unmarked questions difficult and some
questions marked hard to be quite easy. The optional designation is for exercises that
are informative but can be skipped without impeding your ability to follow further
material. The exercises have the following icons in front of them to denote whether or
not they are optional:
EXERCISE 1
A filled-in square next to an exercise means the exercise is critical.
EXERCISE 2
An open square means the exercise is optional.
Examples are presented throughout the book, and they are meant to be tried rather
than just read. Before you begin, you should have the Scala interpreter running and
ready. We encourage you to experiment on your own with variations of what you see in
the examples. A good way to understand something is to change it slightly and see
how the change affects the outcome.
Sometimes we will show a Scala interpreter session to demonstrate the result of
running or evaluating some code. This will be marked by lines beginning with the
scala> prompt of the interpreter. Code that follows this prompt is to be typed or
pasted into the interpreter, and the line just below will show the interpreter’s
response, like this:
scala> println("Hello, World!")
Hello, World!
Code conventions and downloads
All source code in listings or in text is in a fixed-width font like this to separate it
from ordinary text. Key words in Scala are set in bold fixed-width font like this.
Code annotations accompany many of the listings, highlighting important concepts.
To download the source code for the examples in the book, the exercise code, and
the chapter notes, please go to https://github.com/fpinscala/fpinscala or to the pub-
lisher’s website at www.manning.com/FunctionalProgramminginScala.

Random documents with unrelated
content Scribd suggests to you:

is ordinary for a destroyer to roll in the sea. Often moving about the
Colodia was almost like climbing a sheer wall.
The two boys who had done so brave an act the day before were
commended on all sides; but their mates’ approbation took the form
of good natured joking, for which both Morgan and Belding were
thankful.
They heard much comment regarding the German captives from
the other members of the crew. Especially did they learn certain
things about the youth with the broken arm whom they had first
sent off to the destroyer from the wreck of the Zeppelin.
He was named Franz Eberhardt, and he was in the sick bay
instead of being confined with the other prisoners. Hear Hans Hertig
rail about him:
“That feller is a schmardie—one o’ them German schmardies what
you hear about. I would like to have him workin’ on this Colodia. We
would work some of the schmardness out of him yet.”
“What’s the matter with him, Boatswain?” demanded Al Torrance.
“Huh! He tells me the Germans ain’t begun to fight yet! Sure!
They will lick all the world—let him tell it. He iss one Prussian.”
Phil Morgan got a chance to go down to the sick bay and interview
the young prisoner. The latter knew that Morgan was one of those
who had rescued him and his mates; but there was a certain
arrogance about his manner and speech that was not likely to make
him friends among his captors.
“Aren’t you worried about your position at all?” asked Whistler,
when they had talked for some time.
“Me?” repeated the German in very good English. “Why should I
fear? I am an Eberhardt. My uncle lived long in England and has
friends there. I shall make friends. The English do not dare treat us
Germans badly, for they know that in the end they will be beaten
and we will punish them severely if they treat prisoners unkindly.
Oh, yes!”
“Say!” drawled Whistler, “where do you get that stuff? You must
have caught it from that von Hausen. He wanted to push you out of
the way and take your place in the life buoy.”

“Yes,” admitted the German youth simply. “He is Hauptman. Why
not?”
“Good-night!” growled Whistler. “Our officers don’t do that. They
would consider it beneath them to be saved before their crew.”
Eberhardt, who was sitting up, shrugged his shoulders. “Yes?” he
repeated. “But of course, they are not gnädige Herren.”
“That means ‘noble sirs’,” scoffed Whistler. “No, thank heaven, we
do not have such a caste as that in America!”
“You have some very rich men—very rich. I have heard my cousin
Emil say. He knows many of them. Many are from German blood. Of
course, when we finish the war, they will create a caste, as you call
it, in your United States. Cousin Emil says——”
“Who is your Cousin Emil?” demanded Phil Morgan more amused
than angered after all, by this kind of talk. “Is he in the States now?”
“Not yet,” said young Eberhardt, slyly looking at his inquisitor. “But
he is going.”
“Before the war ends? Not much chance of that.”
“Poof!” rejoined the German youth. “You cannot stop Emil. What
he wants to do, he does. He is a great man. He has been decorated
by the Emperor.”
“What department does he fight in?”
“Ah, he is greater than a fighter,” said young Eberhardt, shaking
his head. “He goes hither and yon—where he chooses. In France,
England, Italy, and now to your country, America.”
“A spy?” growled Morgan.
“Call him as you like. Cousin Emil is a wonderful man. Why, to fly
from our bases in Belgium to this England is nothing to Cousin Emil.
He has so traveled a dozen times. But this was my first trip.”
“You were not traveling with your cousin in that Zep, were you?”
“Ah, no. You say our sister Luftshiff—she is fallen?”
“Smashed all to pieces,” declared Whistler with satisfaction. “And
her crew prisoners—all but one.”
“Ah!” breathed Eberhardt, slyly smiling again. “And he who
escaped?”
“What do you know about him?” asked Whistler in surprise. “That
fellow is a spy I bet! He was not a regular member of the Zep’s

crew.”
“No? You saw him?”
“Yes.”
“Is he a man with a very sharp eye, a moustache like our Emperor,
a tiny beard here?” touching his lower lip.
“That’s the fellow!” cried Whistler. “Do you mean to say he is your
cousin Emil, and a spy?”
“Oh, no, my friend,” chuckled the “schmardie.” “Oh, no. I do not
say that. I merely say that man with the little beard on his lip—a
goatee, do you call it?—plays the cornet. You know, most cornet
players wear the little goatee, isn’t it so?”
Eberhardt laughed again and wagged his head, refusing to say
more. As for thanking Whistler for what he and Belding had done
toward saving his life, such a thought never seemed to enter the
German youth’s mind.

CHAPTER X—THE TERROR OF THE SEAS
Phil Morgan, on thinking over the conversation with Franz Eberhardt,
was not at all sure that he should have discussed the wreck of the
other Zeppelin so freely with the prisoner. Yet Eberhardt was a
prisoner, and was not likely to be in a position to use any information
he might have gained to benefit his nation for a long time to come.
If Eberhardt’s cousin was a spy, perhaps this young chap was one
too.
The hint Franz had dropped about the man who had escaped from
the Zeppelin that had been brought down on land, Whistler passed
on, through the proper channels, to the commander of the
destroyer. He could do no more than that. Possibly the man who had
tied up George Belding and escaped in the latter’s clothes, might be
the “Cousin Emil” of whom Franz was so proud.
The Colodia steamed into the port at which she was stationed to
find the convoy and most of the naval vessels cleared out to
accompany the merchant craft. The American destroyer would be
held for any emergency call and there would be no present shore
leave for her crew.
Phil received a long letter, one long delayed, from his sister Alice.
The whole story of how the Beldings had come to invite Whistler’s
two sisters to accompany them to Bahia was here set forth, and the
young fellow’s mind was much relieved when Alice assured him that
even the suggestion of the voyage had so delighted Phoebe that she
already showed improvement in her health.
Kind words from many neighbors and friends were included in the
letter for the other Seacove boys. Of course, Alice did not know at
the time of writing that George Belding was booked for a billet on
the Colodia, too, or she would have sent a message to him.
No thought that the Redbird might come to grief on her voyage to
the South American port seemed to trouble Alice Morgan’s mind

when she wrote to her brother. At that time it was thought all
German raiders and U-boats were driven from the Western Atlantic
waters.
However that might be, the Huns were active enough in the
waters through which the Colodia plied. It was only two days after
Whistler and George Belding had saved the living remainder of the
Zeppelin crew when an S O S call was picked up by the port wireless
station and transmitted to the destroyer. It was possible that the
ship in peril was too far away for the Colodia to be of service;
nevertheless she started out of the harbor within ten minutes of the
reception of the aero plea for help.
The weather was rough, and the ship barely dropped the
headlands below the horizon at sunset. They were bound, doubtless,
on a useless night trip. And yet, such ventures were a part of the
work of the destroyers and must be expected by their crews.
When night had fallen there was only a pale radiance resting on
the sea while broken wind clouds drove athwart a gray and dreary
sky. No stars were visible. From behind the weather screen of the
bridge, where the two watch officers were stationed, nothing could
be seen ahead but the phosphorescent flash of waves otherwise as
black as ink. These flashes, where the waves broke at their crests,
decreased rather than aided the powers of vision.
The crew of the Colodia were by this time so well used to their
work that there were few false alarms as the ship tore on through
the dark seas. Such errands as this were part of the expectation—
almost of routine. The destroyers at night fairly “smelled” their way
from point to point.
Now and then a porpoise shot straight toward the Colodia, leaving
a sparkling wake so like that of a torpedo that the lookout might be
excused for giving a mistaken warning. But the men knew the real
thing now, and the gunners did not bang away at fish or floating
débris as they had in the beginning.
“Why, even Isa Bopp has not for a long time raised a flivver,” said
Al Torrance, discussing this matter with George Belding and Whistler.
“And Ikey has stopped straining his eyes when he’s off duty. One

time he would have hollered ‘wolf’ if he’d seen a dill pickle floating
three hundred yards off our weather bow.”
“That’s all right,” said Whistler. “But Ikey won the first gold piece
for sighting a German sub when he first went to sea on this old
knife-blade. He’s got eyes for something besides dill pickles, has
Ikey.”
The crackling radio was intercepting messages from other ships—
all kinds of ships. The S O S call was no longer being repeated; but
the Colodia’s officers had learned the position of the vessel that
called for help at the start, and the destroyer did not swerve from
her course. She roared on through the dark sea directly for the spot
indicated.
“There’s nothing fancy in this job, George,” Phil Morgan said to
their new chum. “Nothing like a good, slap-dash battle with the Hun
fleet, such as we had a few weeks ago, or even chasing a Hun raider
out of Zeebrugge, or Kiel. But the old Colodia has had ‘well done’
signaled her by the fleet admiral more than once.”
“You bet!” Al Torrance put in. “We’ve sunk more than one of the
U-boats. We’re one of ‘the terrors of the sea,’ boy—like the song tells
about. That is what they call our flotilla.”
“Ah! I’ve heard all that before,” Belding said, in some disgust. “I
want to see action!”
As it chanced, he saw action on this very cruise. First, however,
came the conclusion of the incident that had brought them out of
port, chasing a phantom S O S.
A light burning low on the water was spied about ten o’clock. It
could be nothing but an open boat, and the Colodia’s prow was
turned more directly toward it. The sea was really too rough for a
submarine to be awash, yet the Huns had been known to linger in
the vicinity of their victims so as to catch the rescuing vessel
unaware. A sharp lookout was maintained as the Colodia steamed
onward.
The torch in the open boat flared and smoked, while the boat
pitched and tossed—seemingly scarcely under command of its crew.
There was no sign of any other craft in the vicinity. The signal from

the attacked ship having stopped hours before, without much doubt
she had sunk.
And but one boat remained!
The destroyer sped down within hailing distance of the open boat,
burning signals of her own meanwhile. Getting on the weather
quarter of the castaways, the latter were ordered to pull to the
Colodia.
The boat held only nineteen survivors of the Newcastle Boy, a
collier that had been torpedoed by a submarine. There had been a
second boat, and both had been shelled after the collier sank, and
the mate, who was in command of these rescued castaways, feared
his captain’s boat was utterly lost. Had the sea not been so rough,
he said, the Germans would have succeeded in sinking his boat, too.
Whistler was on duty amidships and he overheard much of the
report made by the collier’s mate to Lieutenant Commander Lang
and the conversation among the officers thereon.
He was particularly impressed by the inquiries the destroyer’s
commander made regarding the nature of the attack, the type of U-
boat that did the deed, and similar details.
A close track was kept of all these submarine attacks. The
methods of certain submarine commanders could usually be traced.
These reports were kept by the British Admiralty and were intended,
at the end of the war, to assist in identifying U-boat commanders
who had committed atrocities. Those men should, in the end, not
escape punishment for their horrid crimes.
This attack upon the Newcastle Boy had been particularly brutal.
There were four wounded men in the mate’s boat. If the captain’s
boat were lost, the missing would total twenty-six.
The Colodia, swinging in wide circles through the rough sea,
remained near the scene of the catastrophe until morning. They
discovered no trace of the sunken ship, although the mate declared
she had gone down within a mile of the spot where the destroyer
had picked up the survivors.
But at daybreak the watchful lookouts did spy a broken oar and
part of the bow of the captain’s lifeboat—its air-compartment
keeping it afloat. No human being was there to be seen, and the

conclusion was unescapable that the Hun had done his best to “sink
without trace” another helpless boat’s crew.
It was mid-afternoon, however, before the Colodia left the vicinity
of the tragedy. There was a desire in the hearts of her crew and
officers to sight the submarine that had committed this atrocity.
Finally, however, the American naval vessel was swung about for
port and began to pick up speed. These destroyers never seem to go
anywhere at an easy pace; they are always “rushed” in their
schedule.
Having given up hope of catching the particular submarine that
had sunk the Newcastle Boy, the Colodia’s lookouts did not,
however, fail to watch for other submersibles. Men stationed in the
tops, on the bridge, and in both bow and stern, trained keen eyes
upon the surrounding sea as the destroyer dashed on her way.
Ikey Rosenmeyer and his special chum, Frenchy Donahue, were in
the bows on watch. Even those two “gabbers,” as Al Torrance called
them, knew enough to keep their tongues still while on duty; and
nobody on the destroyer had keener vision than Ikey and Frenchy.
Almost together the two hailed the bridge:
“Off the port bow, sir!” while Ikey added “Starboard your helm!”
A great cry went up from amidships. The Colodia escaped the
object just beneath the surface by scarcely a boat’s length. Men
sprang to the depth-bomb arms and the crews to their guns.
But it was not a submarine. A great wave caused by the swift
shifting of the Colodia’s helm, brought the object almost to the
surface.
“A mine!” roared the crew.
The destroyer’s speed was slackened instantly. She swung
broadside to the menace. A few snappy commands, and two of the
deck guns roared.
Instantly a geyser of water and smoke rose from the sea. The
explosion of the mine could have been seen for many miles. Had the
destroyer collided with it——
“We’d have gone to Davy Jones’ locker, sure enough, fellows,” said
Al Torrance. “Those mines the Huns are sowing through these seas

now would blow up the Brooklyn Bridge. Suppose the Leviathan,
troop ship, scraped her keel on that thing?”
There was much discussion all over the destroyer about the mine.
It suggested that the submarine that had sunk the Newcastle Boy
might be a mine-sower. That fact would help identify the submarine,
for all types of German submersibles are not fitted with mine wells.
“You see how it is, George,” said Phil Morgan to their new chum.
“These seas around here are just as safe as a powder factory—just
about! How does it make you feel?”
“Pshaw!” returned Belding, “didn’t I tell you we almost caught a
sub when I was out on the Sirius? I don’t believe the Heinies have
got so many of ’em, after all.”
“Never you mind,” said Whistler. “They’ve got enough if they have
but one, believe me! Just think how we fellows used to gas about
submarines and all that. Before the war, I mean! We never dreamed
any country would use them as the Germans have.”
The tone of the whole crew after the narrow escape from the
mine was intense. They were on the lookout for almost anything to
happen. Before mid-afternoon, while still out of sight of land, the top
hailed the deck officers.
“Steamer in sight, sir!”
The position and course of the stranger was given, and
immediately everybody who had glasses turned them in the
indicated direction. The destroyer’s course was changed a trifle, for
everything that floated on the sea was examined by the Allied patrol.
Soon the high, rusted sides of an ancient tramp steamship hove
into the view of all. She was a two-stack steamer, and despite her
evident age and frowsiness she was making good time toward the
Thames.
“Taking a chance,” Ensign MacMasters said to Whistler and his
friends. “That is what she is doing. She’s not even camouflaged. Her
owner has found some daredevil fellows to run her and will make a
fortune in a single voyage—or lose the ship, one or the other. Great
gamblers, some of these old ship owners.”
“Gamblers with men’s lives,” said George Belding. “I should know.
My father is in the business; but he does not take such chances as

that.”
“Not even with the Redbird?” whispered Whistler anxiously. “I
don’t know about Phoebe and Alice sailing on her.”
“Oh, pshaw! there’s no danger over yonder,” declared George.
“We’ve driven all the Huns from the Western Atlantic.”
“Hope so,” returned Whistler.
Just then a cry rose from some of the men on deck. The destroyer
was near enough to the tramp steamship now to observe what went
on aboard of her. They saw men running about her deck. Then
followed the “Bang! Bang! Bang!” of her deck guns.
The guns were aimed for the far side of the tramp—the object
they were aiming at being out of sight. But the destroyer’s crew
knew what that fusillade meant.
“A sub! She’s got a sub under her guns!” was the yell that rose all
over the Colodia.
Swift orders from the bridge and instantly the destroyer shot
ahead like a mettlesome horse under spur and whip.

CHAPTER XI—ACTION
If action was what George Belding craved, he was getting it.
Everybody aboard the United States destroyer Colodia was on the
alert as the craft leaped ahead to full speed for the spot where the
rusty-sided tramp steamship was popping away with her deck guns
at some object as yet not in view from the destroyer.
The merchant ship was being conned on a zig-zag course,
evidently in an attempt to dodge an expected torpedo. Her hull hid
whatever she was shooting at from the crew of the Colodia; but the
latter did not doubt the nature of the big ship’s erratic course.
At top speed the Colodia rushed to the fray, and on suddenly
rounding the stern of the tramp, a great shout rose from the boys
ranged along the destroyer’s rail:
“There she is!”
The cry was drowned by the salvo of guns discharged at the
conning tower of the German submersible not more than a thousand
yards from the tramp ship. The position of the German craft had
been excellent at first for a shot at the merchant vessel; but her first
torpedo had evidently missed its objective. Now with the destroyer
in view, the Hun let drive a second missile and then began to
submerge.
The torpedo’s wake could be seen by the lookouts on the Colodia
the instant it left its tube. The tramp vessel evaded the explosive;
but the destroyer was directly in the torpedo’s path.
There was real danger at this moment. Quickly swerved as she
might be, it was not at all sure that the Colodia could escape the
torpedo. Every man and boy aboard was at his station; among them
Al Torrance was placed at the starboard rail. He was armed, like
many of his mates, with a rifle.
As the destroyer shot across the path of the torpedo Torry fitted
the butt of his rifle into the hollow of his shoulder, huddled his cheek

against the stock, and brought the cross-sights of the rifle full upon
the sharklike projectile.
The rifle report was almost instantaneous with the roar of the
torpedo. The latter blew up not twenty yards from the destroyer’s
rail!
“Hi! Hi! Hi!” yelled the mates of the keen-sighted Torrance.
“Well done!” called the officer of the watch through his
megaphone. “Well done, Torrance!”
The whole crew cheered again, and Al’s flaming face
acknowledged their appreciation. Mr. MacMasters came quickly to
wring the lad’s hand in appreciation.
“Good for you, Torrance,” he said. “Your name goes down on the
log for that.”
“Aw, she wouldn’t have hit us anyway,” said Al, quite overcome by
so much praise.
“Never mind. It showed accurate marksmanship and good work,
too. Those autoprojectiles are dangerous to leave drifting about the
seas. You get a good mark, my boy.”
Meanwhile the Colodia, swerving not a hair from her course,
reached and overran the spot where the submersible had sunk. The
order rang out and the depth bomb was dropped. Then the
destroyer scurried out of the way to escape the effect of the deep-
down explosion.
Up from the depths rose a mound of muddy water. It rose twenty
feet above the surface, and the spray shot twice as high. The
thundering explosion shook the running destroyer in every part. The
effect of the discharge upon what was under the sea must have
been terrible.
Half a mile away the Colodia swerved and circled, to pass again
over the spot where the bomb had been dropped. The boys leaned
over the rails to watch for anything in the water that might prove
that the submarine had been wrecked. There was not a bit of
wreckage; but suddenly Ikey Rosenmeyer shrieked:
“Oil! Oil! Oh, bully! Oil!”
A roar of other voices took up the cry. Great bubbles of oil rose to
the surface. The Colodia passed over a regular “slick” of fluid that

could mean nothing but that the tanks of the submersible had been
ripped open by the explosion of the depth bomb.
Morgan found George Belding standing beside him and looking
back at the oil-streaked waves with a very serious visage.
“What’s on your mind?” asked the Seacove lad.
“It seems terrible, doesn’t it, Phil?” said Belding. “All those fellows!
Gone like that!” and he snapped his fingers.
“Well,” returned Whistler, “you wanted action, didn’t you? Now I
guess you’ve had enough for a while.”
“I believe you,” agreed his friend solemnly.
But the work and life of the boys on the destroyer was not
altogether made up of such scenes and incidents as these that have
been related. Just at this time the troop ships were coming across
from America in great convoys and the Colodia sometimes had less
than half a day in port between trips. Four or five hours ashore in
the English port, or at Brest where the greater number of ships from
America landed their freight and human cargoes, was the utmost
freedom that the Navy Boys and their mates secured.
There were extra calls, now and then, like these which have been
related herein. When an S O S call is picked up by shore or ship
radio, every Naval vessel within reach is sure to make for the point
of peril.
The life was not altogether exciting, however, for there were many
days of tedious watching and waiting in which it seemed that the
Hun boats had all scurried back to their bases and the patrols
scarcely raised a porpoise, much less one of the “steel sharks of the
sea.”
At Brest, well along in the month following the introduction of
George Belding to the Colodia, the young fellow from New York got
a cablegram from his father mentioning the date of the Redbird’s
sailing for Bahia with his own family and Philip Morgan’s sisters
aboard.
Whether the treasure of gold coin was to be part of the ship’s
burthen or not, the cablegram did not state. George had written his
father about his lost letters and papers and of the probability that
the knowledge of the treasure would reach those Germans who

would consider the ship bound for South America, and all she
carried, their legitimate prey.
If information of the treasure of gold coin had been sent by the
spy from the Zeppelin to his associates in the United States, there
might be already afoot a plot to get possession of Mr. Belding’s gold.
The boys of the Colodia had not heard of the capture of the spy who
had disappeared in George Belding’s uniform. Much as they had
inquired in England, they had been able to learn absolutely nothing.
Phil Morgan had even been to see Franz Eberhardt at the port
hospital where the young German was confined while his arm was
being skilfully treated by the English surgeons. Later the German
youth had been taken to an internment camp in one of the back
shires. Before he had gone Whistler had tried to get him to talk
again about “Cousin Emil.” But Franz had become wary.
He was no longer acting “the schmardie,” as Hans Hertig had
called him. He had begun to see something of England and had
learned something of the character of the English. To be a prisoner,
and well treated as he was, was a much more serious situation than
had at first appeared.
But he refused to say anything at all of Cousin Emil. Whether it
really was Franz Eberhardt’s cousin with whom the Navy Boys and
“Willum” Johnson had had their adventure, the fact remained that as
far as the boys knew, a German spy was at large in England, And he
had information in his possession that might possibly injure Mr.
Belding and his affairs.
The Seacove boys were all now interested in the sailing of the
Redbird. If Whistler’s two sisters alone had been sailing for Bahia the
others would have felt a personal anxiety in the matter.
“Wish the old Colodia was going to convoy that Redbird,” Al
Torrance said. “Eh, fellows?”
“By St. Patrick’s piper that played the last snake out of Ireland!”
declared Frenchy Donahue, “’twould be the foinest of luck if she
was.”
“Oi! oi! Ain’t it so?” murmured Ikey. “And that Alice Morgan such a
pretty girl! I hope that Redbird gets to Bahia safe.”

“As far as we can hear,” said Whistler cheerfully, “there are neither
submarines nor raiders now in the Western Atlantic. They seem to
have been chased out, boys.”
This supposition, however, did not prove to be founded on fact;
for on the very next occasion that the Colodia was in the French
port, Brest, there was much excitement regarding a new German
raider reported to have got out of Zeebrugge and run to the
southward, doing damage on small craft along the French coast.
This was before the British Captain Carpenter with the Vindictive
bottled up that outlet of German ships.
Some denied that it was a raider at all, but a big, new submarine
that was built with upperworks to look like a steam carrier when she
was on the surface. However, she had a name, it being the Sea
Pigeon, instead of a letter and number. The whole fleet of destroyers
was soon on the lookout for this strange vessel, and the American
commanders offered liberal rewards to the owners of the sharp eyes
who first spotted the new Hun terror of the seas.
The Colodia went to sea to meet a new convoy from America, “all
set” as the boys said, to make a killing if they ran across the Sea
Pigeon.
“Well, we got the Graf von Posen,” Ikey Rosenmeyer said, with
cheerful optimism, “so why not this here Pigeon ship? We’re the
boys that bring home the bacon, aren’t we?”
“Aw, Ikey!” groaned Frenchy Donahue. “Can’t you ever forget you
were brought up in a delicatessen shop? ‘Bring home the bacon,’
indade!”

CHAPTER XII—WIRELESS WHISPERS
On duty with the morning watch, just after sick call at half past
eight, Phil Morgan and George Belding met right abaft the radio
station. There was half an hour or so before the divisions would be
piped to fall in for muster and inspection, and the two friends could
chat a little.
“Well, the folks are on the sea, as we are, Phil, if the Redbird
sailed as per schedule,” Belding said.
“I sha’n’t feel really happy till we hear they are at Bahia,”
responded Whistler, shaking his head.
“Right-o! But the Redbird is a fine ship, and just as safe as a
house.”
“But she’s a sailing ship—and slow.”
“Not so slow, if anybody should ask you,” returned Belding smiling.
“A four-master?”
“And square rigged. A real ship. No schooner-rig, or half-and-half.
Captain Jim Lowder thinks she is the finest thing afloat. Of course,
she is thirty years old; but she was built to last. Regular passenger
sailing ship, with a round-the-world record that would make the
British tea ships sit up and take notice. Her cabin finished in
mahogany, staterooms in white enamel—simply fine!”
“I didn’t know they had such sailing ships,” said Whistler in
wonder.
“Oh, there are a few left. The Huns haven’t sunk them all. Nor
have the steam craft put such as the Redbird out of commission. You
couldn’t get Captain Jim Lowder to take out a steam vessel. He
abominates the ‘iron pots,’ as he calls the steam freighters.
“But sailing ships like the Redbird are kept out of the European
trade if possible. Even Captain Lowder must admit that a sailing ship
is not in the game of fighting subs.”

“That is the way I feel. Wish your folks and mine were going south
on a steamer, George.”
“No fear. They will be all right,” was Belding’s reassuring reply.
“Just the same I’d feel a lot better if all the Hun subs and raiders
were bottled up at their bases.”
“By the way,” said Belding, “what do you think of this Sea Pigeon
we hear so much talk about? Think there is such a craft?”
“Why not? We know that some kind of an enemy vessel slipped
along south and evaded our patrol, leaving a trail of sunken and
torpedoed ships behind her.”
“But a huge submarine, with superstructure and all——”
“That is only a guess,” laughed Whistler. “Personally, I believe this
Sea Pigeon is a raider and no submarine at all. A submarine of the
size reported would use up a lot of petrol.”
“That’s all right,” said Belding quickly. “She could get supplies
down along the Spanish coast. There are plenty of people that way
friendly to the Germans.”
At the moment they heard the sudden chatter of the radio
instrument. Belding turned instantly to put his head into the little
room. The operator smiled and nodded to him.
“Something doing,” he muttered. “One of you chaps want to take
this message to the com?”
“Let’s have it,” said Whistler, quickly, holding out his hand.
“I’d like to put on that harness myself,” said Belding. “We had a
wireless on the roof of our house in New York before the war.
Government made us wreck it.”
“Jinks!” exclaimed Whistler, waiting for the operator to write out
the message received and slip it into an envelope. “Do you know
how to work one of these things, George?”
“I know something about it,” admitted Belding. “What’s it all
about?” he asked the operator.
“Orders for us,” said the man. “You’ll know soon enough. We’re
due for new cruising grounds, boys. But keep your tongues still till
the com eases the information to all hands.”
He had finished the receipt and “repeat” of the message. Whistler
took the envelope and sprang away with it to the commander’s

quarters.
He knew by the expression on Mr. Lang’s face when he scanned
the message that there was something big in view. The commanding
officer of the Colodia swiftly wrote a reply and gave it to Whistler for
the radio man. Belding was still hanging about the wireless room.
His face was flushed and his eyes shone.
“Do you know what it is all about, Phil?” he whispered.
“Not a thing. But the Old Man,” said Whistler, “is some excited.”
Rumor that changed orders had reached the Colodia spread
abroad before muster and inspection. The usual physical drills were
gone through while the boys’ minds were on tiptoe. Even the order
at four bells to relieve the wheel and lookout startled the crew, so
expectant were they.
But nothing happened until just before retreat from drill at eleven-
thirty. Commander Lang then made his appearance. He went to the
quarter and addressed the crew.
“We have been honored by an order to go freelancing after a
suspected vessel, supposed to be a German raider, last and recently
reported to be off the Azores,” he said. “Because we were successful
some months ago in taking the Graf von Posen, we are assigned to
this work.”
At this point the crew broke into cheers, and with a smile the
commanding officer waved his hand for the boatswain’s mates to
pipe retreat.
The Colodia was at this time sailing within sight of half a dozen
other destroyers bound out to pick up the expected convoy. After a
little her wireless crackled a curt “good-bye” to her companions, and
the Colodia changed her course for a more southerly one.
The chances, for and against, of overhauling the Sea Pigeon were
volubly discussed, from the commander’s offices to the galley, and
everybody, including the highest officer and the most humble
steward’s boy, had a vital interest in the destroyer’s objective.
To attempt to chase a ship like this German raider about the ocean
was a most uncertain task.
“But if the luck of the Colodia runs true to form,” Al Torrance
expressed it, “we shall turn the trick.”

“That this Sea Pigeon is a raider and not a submarine, seems to
be an established fact,” Belding said. “Sparks got some private
information from the radio station at the Azores and says the ship is
a fast steamer made over from some big, fat Heinie’s steam yacht he
used to race before the war. She has just sunk a wheat ship from the
Argentine.”
“Sparks” is the nickname usually applied to the radio operator
aboardship, and George Belding was quite friendly with the chief of
the wireless force on the destroyer.
“George gets all these ‘wireless whispers’ because he has a pull,”
said Whistler, smiling. “If anything ever happens to Sparks, I expect
we’d see George in there with his head harnessed.”
“And it’s no bad job!” cried Al enthusiastically. “I’ve often wished I
could listen in on this radio stuff.”
“Oi, oi! That just goes to show the curiosity of you,” declared Ikey
Rosenmeyer, with serious air. “It is a trait of your character that
should be suppressed, Torry.”

CHAPTER XIII—THE SUPER-SUBMERSIBLE
The boys from Seacove and George Belding—but especially the last
and Phil Morgan—had a second topic of daily conversation quite as
interesting, if not as exciting, as that of the German raider, in chase
of which the Colodia was now driving at top-speed into the
southwest.
This topic was the fruitful one of the Redbird and her cruise to
Bahia. If the big sailing ship had left New York on the date promised,
then the Belding family and Phil’s sisters would now be off Hatteras
—perhaps even farther south.
“For you can believe me, Belding,” Al Torrance declared earnestly,
and speaking with all the sea-wisdom acquired during his naval
experience, “that Captain Lawdor would not sail right out across the
Gulf Stream and make the Azores or the Canaries a landfall, as he
might have done before Hun submarines got to littering up the
Atlantic as they do now.”
“We cannot be altogether sure of his course,” murmured George
Belding.
“Sailing vessels hate to head into the current of the Gulf Stream,”
added Whistler, likewise in doubt.
“You chaps are determined to expect the very worst that can
happen, aren’t you? Like a fellow going to have a tooth extracted,”
said Al, with disgust. “Now, listen here! It stands to reason that
news of this new raider, the Sea Pigeon, or whatever it is they call
her, was transmitted to the other side of the periscope pond.
George’s father and the captain of the Redbird would be warned
before they sailed from New York of this new danger—if not
afterward, by wireless. Of course the ship has a radio plant, hasn’t
she?”
“Of course,” agreed the shipowner’s son.

“Nuff said! They never in this world, then, would take the usual
course of sailing ships for South America. They would not cross the
Gulf Stream. It will take the Redbird a little longer to buck the
northerly set of the current; but that is what Captain Lawdor will do,
take it from me! I figure they are now about off Hatteras, following
the usual course of the coasting vessels.”
“Not much leeway for a big sailing ship,” muttered George.
“Better hugging the shore, even stormy old Hatteras, which we
know something about, eh, fellows?” added Al, “than dodging subs
and raiders out in the broad Atlantic.”
He had an old chart and was marking off the possible course of
the Redbird with a lead pencil.
“Good work, Torry,” said Frenchy Donahue. “It’s navigation officer
you’ll be next.”
They were all five deeply interested, and each day they worked
out the probable course of the sailing ship, as well as figuring the
distance she probably had sailed during the elapsed twenty-four
hours.
“I only hope,” George Belding said, “that we overtake this Sea
Pigeon and finish her before her commander takes it into his head to
steam across the ocean to the western lanes of travel. If the raider
should intercept father’s ship——”
“Ah, say!” cried Frenchy, “that ‘if’ is the biggest word in the
language, if it has only two letters. Don’t worry, Belding.”
That advice was easy to give. George and Whistler remained very
anxious, however; indeed, they could not help being. Nor did the
activities aboard the destroyer during the next few days much take
their thought off the Redbird and her company and cargo.
They talked but little—even to their closest boy friends—about the
possibility of there being a great store of coined gold aboard the
Redbird. Just the same, this fact they knew would cause the ship to
be an object of keen attraction to any sea-raider who might hear of
it.
The spy from the Zeppelin had secured George Belding’s letters in
which the gold treasure was mentioned and Mr. Belding’s voyage in
the Redbird explained. More than a month had elapsed between the

spy-chase behind the little English port and the sailing of the square-
rigged ship from New York for Bahia, Brazil.
“And you know,” George once said, “a whole lot can happen in a
month. Those Germans have an ‘underground telegraph’ that beats
anything the negroes and their Northern sympathizers had during,
and previous to, our Civil War.”
“Aw, don’t bring up ancient history,” growled Al, who tried to be
cheerful, but who found it hard work when the older boys seemed
determined to see the dark side of the shield. “I’ve forgotten ’most
all I ever knew about every war before this one we’re into with both
feet—and then some!”
“Sure, Torry,” put in Frenchy Donahue, “don’t you remember the
war of that showman who antedated Barnum—the one they say got
a herd of elephants over the Alps to fight for him?”
“Oi, oi! Hannibal!” cried Ikey.
“Say! it would take a friend of yours to do that, Frenchy,” said Al in
disgust. “I’ve always had my doubts about that fellow, Hannibal.”
“Besides,” went on Ikey, going back to Belding’s statement, “it’s
nothing to do with ‘underground’ or any other telegraph. The
Germans use wireless. If that spy got news across the pond——”
“Right-o!” broke in George, with increased good-nature and an
answering smile. “But let’s ‘supposing.’ That spy has had ample time
to transmit to friends on the other side of the ocean information
about the gold my father is carrying to South America.”
“Why,” said Whistler, slowly unpuckering his lips, “he might even
have crossed to New York himself by this time—if the British didn’t
catch him.”
“If they had caught him wouldn’t we have been told?” asked
Belding quickly.
“How? By whom?” demanded Whistler.
“Say!” declared Al vigorously, “the British War Office makes a clam
look like it had a tongue hung in the middle and running at both
ends!”
“Now you’ve said something!” muttered Frenchy.
“That’s right! The world doesn’t even know how many submarines
have been sunk and captured, already yet,” declared Ikey excitedly.

“And we won’t know, it’s likely, till the end of the war.”
“What’s the odds?” growled Al.
“You got to hand it to them,” sighed Whistler. “The British have
great powers of self-restraint.”
“You said it!” again put in Frenchy.
“Well,” Ikey said, more moderately, “if that chap that came near
sending Belding here west, was that schmardie’s brother——”
“Cousin!” interposed Whistler.
“Well—anyhow and anyway—Emil Eberhardt—I say!” cried Ikey,
“he might have got free and gone over to New York by submarine,
or someway, like Whistler says.”
“What do you suppose he’d do if he wanted to get that money off
the Redbird?” asked Frenchy, big-eyed.
“Ask us an easier one,” begged Al Torrance.
“You kids are letting your imaginations run away with you,” put in
Phil Morgan.
But in secret the two older boys—Belding and Whistler—did not
consider the idea of the spy reaching New York before the Redbird
sailed at all impossible.
“That chap with the broken arm we took off the wrecked Zep,”
Belding remarked once to Morgan, “told you his cousin, the ‘super-
spy,’ was bound for America, didn’t he?”
“He dropped such a hint,” admitted the Seacove lad. “But pshaw!
we don’t even know that Franz Eberhardt referred to the fellow we
had our adventure with.”
“I know! I know!” muttered George Belding. “But I do wish Willum
Johnson, the strong man, had got his hands on that spy.”
“‘If wishes were horses——’”
“Sure! And perhaps it is all right. At any rate, father must have got
my letter before he sailed, in which I told him all about losing the
papers and warning him about German plotters. Of course he must
have got that letter.”
But this thought would have afforded them little comfort had the
two friends known that the ship which bore George Belding’s letter
of warning had been sunk off the Irish coast by a German U-boat,

and that that particular freight or mail for the United States would
probably not be recovered until after the war.
The Colodia touched at St. Michael and then at Fayal, receiving in
both ports information of the escapades of the new raider. Lastly she
had been heard of far to the west.
Perhaps she was going across the ocean to prey on the American
coastwise trade! This was a suggestion that put the Seacove boys
and Belding on edge.
There was, however, something rather uncertain about the stories
regarding the Sea Pigeon. Some of the merchant crews that had
already met her, declared her to be a huge new submarine—a
submersible that looked like a steam freighter when she was afloat,
and that she was all of three hundred feet long.
“Some boat, that!” observed Mr. MacMasters. “We’ve seen ’em
with false upperworks, boys. But you know, even the Deutschland
was no such submarine as this one they tell about.”
Whistler put forth the idea that there were two ships working in
these waters; but not many accepted this until, the day after they
left Fayal, and the destroyer was traveling west, Sparks suddenly
picked up an S O S from the south. The Argentine steamship Que
Vida was sending out frantic calls for help. She was being shelled by
a monster submarine two hundred miles off the port of Funchal of
the Madeiras.
“This is the real thing—Sea Pigeon or not!” the radio operator
confided to George Belding. “She’s the super-sub we’ve been
hearing about. The operator on this Buenos Aires’ ship says she
came right up out of the sea at dawn and opened fire with guns fore
and aft. Has used a torpedo, and has upperworks like a regular
honest-to-goodness steam freighter.
“There! He’s off again!” he exclaimed, as the radio began to spark,
and he turned back to the machine.
So was the Colodia off again, and at full speed, dashing away in
quest of the Que Vida and the great submersible that had attacked
her.

CHAPTER XIV—THE MIRAGE
Phil Morgan, coming up suddenly from the berth deck just as
sweepers were piped at 5:20 in the morning, fairly overturned a
smaller lad who had been straddling the top of the ladder.
“Hi, you sea-going elephant, you!” complained Ikey Rosenmeyer’s
voice. “Look where you are going!”
“‘Keep off the engine room hatch’,” chuckled the older lad, quoting
one of the emphasized orders from the manual. “Haven’t you
learned that yet?”
“No more than you have learned that ‘Whistling is never permitted
aboard ship’,” rejoined Ikey, getting up and rubbing his elbows.
“Wasn’t whistling!” denied Morgan.
“Well, your lips were all puckered up, just the same. And you
know what old Jehoshaphat,” he observed, using the nickname for
the chief master-at-arms, “said that time about your doing that. It’s
just as bad to look like you were whistling as to do it.”
“Aw, he’s deaf and was afraid I was putting something over on
him,” Morgan declared, and immediately proceeded to “pucker up”
again in a silent tune.
It was true that Phil Morgan had received more than one demerit
when first he had come to sea because of this proclivity of his for
whistling. He had really been driven to the extremity of carrying a
couple of small burrs under his tongue to remind him of the
infraction of ship rules he was about to commit whenever he
thoughtlessly prepared to whistle.
The Navy Boys had had a good many rules besides these two
quoted above to learn. And not only to learn, but to obey! Excuses
are not accepted in the Navy. Anybody who has ever looked through
the Bluejacket’s Manual will be impressed by these facts.
Every waking hour of the day has its duties for the men and boys
aboard ship. Especially for the apprentice seamen class to which

Whistler and his friends belonged. Their “hitch” was for four years,
or until they were twenty-one. And the more they learned and the
higher they stood in their various classes, the better their general
rating would be if they enlisted for a second term.
This last was their intention and expectation. They were by no
means cured of their love for the sea or their interest in the Navy by
the hard experiences they had suffered.
For that Philip Morgan and his chums had been through some
serious experiences since the war began could not be overlooked.
But they were just the sort of lads to enjoy what some people might
consider extremely perilous adventures.
The daily routine of duty aboard the Colodia at times seemed
tedious; but the Navy Boys managed to stir up excitement in some
form if routine became too dull. In fact, the two younger chums,
Ikey Rosenmeyer and Frenchy Donahue, were inclined to be
venturesome and at times they got into trouble with the authorities.
This fact occasioned Whistler at this early hour to wonder what
Ikey was doing at the head of the berth deck ladder. This was not
the younger lad’s watch. He caught Ikey by the arm and led him to
the rail. They were careful not to lean on the rail or on the lifelines,
for that was against orders.
“What are you watching here for, anyway?” the older lad
demanded.
“For the sun,” grinned Ikey.
“What you giving me? You don’t suppose the sun has forgotten to
rise, do you?”
“Dunno. Haven’t seen him yet.”
“It isn’t time.”
“Well, I’m keeping my eyes open,” said Ikey with twinkling eyes
but serious face.
“Shucks! What’s the game, anyway?” demanded Whistler.
“Why,” said Ikey, “the sun went down so blamed sudden last night
that I wasn’t sure whether it really set same as usual, or just that
the old fellow went out of business entirely. Didn’t you notice it?”
“Ah!” exclaimed the older lad, seeing the light, if not the sunlight.
“Don’t you know that we are getting nearer and nearer to the

tropics, and that there is mighty little twilight there?”
“No!”
“Fact. Night falls very suddenly.”
“‘Sudden!’ You said it!” ejaculated Ikey. “It’s enough to take your
breath. I told Frenchy I wasn’t sure the sun would ever come up
again.”
The fingers of Dawn were already smearing pale colorings along
the eastern sky. The two boys watched the growing day
wonderingly. No two sunrises are alike at sea, and Whistler was
never tired of watching the changing sky and ocean.
This was the morning following the S O S call regarding the attack
of the super-submarine on an Argentine ship. The Colodia was
pounding away at a furious rate toward the place which the wireless
had whispered; but the spot was still some leagues away.
It was a cloudy morning, the clouds being all around the horizon
with the promise of clear sky overhead. Windrow upon windrow of
mist rolled up above the horizon. The light in the east was half
smothered by the clouds.
“I guess the old sun will get here on the dot,” said Whistler, in a
mind to turn away to go about his duties.
“I’m going to wait for him,” said Ikey stubbornly. “No knowing
what tricks he might play. Hi! Look there!”
Whistler, as well as Ikey, suddenly became interested in what they
saw upon the western sky. There was a stratum of cloud floating
there, beneath which the horizon—the meeting line of sky and sea—
was clear. The spreading light of dawn imparted to this horizon line a
clearness quite startling. It was as though it had been just dashed
on with a brushful of fresh paint.
The floating cloudland was pearl gray above and rose pink
beneath; and that streak of “fresh paint” on the horizon line
separated this cloudland from the dull blue water.
The sun would soon pop up above the eastern sea line, despite
Ikey’s pessimism, and his coming rays were already touching lightly
the clouds above.
“Look at that! Isn’t it great?” breathed Whistler. “Why, you can just
about see through that cloud. It doesn’t seem real.”

“Clouds aren’t supposed to be very solid,” scoffed Ikey,
unappreciative of the poetry in his mate’s nature. “Only air and
water.”
“Huh! Two of the three principal elements,” snapped Whistler.
“Where’s your science, smart boy? And that plane of cloud——”
“Looks just like the flat sea below it,” suggested Ikey, his interest
growing.
“You’re right, it does!” admitted Whistler. “See! I believe that cloud
is a reflection of the sea beneath. I bet it isn’t a cloud at all!”
“Then I guess I was right,” chuckled Ikey. “Nothing very real about
it, is there?”
Mr. MacMasters came forward along the Colodia’s deck just as Ikey
made this reply. He addressed the two friends smilingly:
“What is all the excitement, boys? Haven’t spotted a submarine,
have you, Rosenmeyer?”
Whistler turned to the ensign and waved a hand toward the
phenomenon in the west.
“What do you think of that out there, Mr. MacMasters?” he asked.
“I am not sure, but I think we are being vouchsafed a sight not
often noted at sea—and at this hour. It looks like a mirage.”
“Oi, oi!” murmured Ikey. “I understand now why it looks so funny.”
Whistler said: “Then that is a reflection of the sea up there in the
air?”
“Hanging between sea and sky, yes,” said the ensign. “A curious
phenomenon. But not, in all probability, a reflection of the sea
directly under that cloudlike vision.”
“No, sir.”
“Probably a reflection photographed on the clouds of a piece of
the ocean at a distance—just where one could scarcely figure out
even by the use of the ‘highest of higher mathematics’,” and the
ensign laughed.
“A mirage,” repeated Whistler. “Well, I never saw the like before.”
“It looks just like a piece of the ocean, doesn’t it?” said Ikey
eagerly. “But there are no ships——”
He broke off with a startled cry. Mr. MacMasters and Whistler
echoed the ejaculation. Everybody on deck who had paid any

attention to the mystery in the sky showed increased interest.
Rising slowly and distinctly upon the reflective surface of the
reflected sea was an object which the onlookers watched with
growing excitement and wonder. It was the outlines of a ship—but
not an ordinary ship!
It had upperworks and the two stacks of a steam freighter. It was
of the color of the sea itself—gray; yet its outlines—even the wire
stays—were distinct!
The sea shown in the mirage had been absolutely empty. Now, of
a sudden, this ghostly figure had risen upon it. Whistler Morgan
caught Mr. MacMasters by the arm. He was so excited that he did
not know he touched the officer.
“Look at it! Do you know what it is?” he gasped. “That’s a
submarine—a huge submarine. She’s just risen to the surface.”
“It’s the sub we’re looking for!” cried Ikey, hoarsely. “My goodness,
see it sailing up there in the sky!”

CHAPTER XV—COMBING THE SEA
Suddenly the red edge of the sun appeared above the eastern sea
line. He had not forgotten to rise! For an instant—the length of the
intake of the breath the two astonished boys drew—the mirage
painted by nature against the western sky was flooded with the
rising glory.
Then the wonderful picture was erased, disappearing like a motion
picture fade-out, and there no longer remained any sign of the
startling vision in the sky, save a mass of formless and tumbled
cloud.
“What do you know about that?” murmured Ikey Rosenmeyer, in
amazement.
“You’ll never see the like of it again, boys—not in a hundred
years,” Ensign MacMasters said with confidence. “That was a
wonderful mirage!”
“But, Mr. MacMasters,” cried Whistler Morgan, “that vision was the
reflection of something real, wasn’t it? An actual picture of a part of
the sea?”
“So they tell us.”
“Where do you suppose that piece of water lies?” demanded the
youth eagerly.
“I have no idea. ‘Somewhere at sea’! It may be north, east, south,
or west of the Colodia’s present position. As I tell you, there is no
means of making sure—that I know anything about,” he added,
shaking his head.
“Oi, oi!” exclaimed Ikey. “Then we don’t know any more than we
did before where that super-submarine is.”
“If that was a picture of her,” said Whistler thoughtfully.
“It is truly ‘all in the air’, boys,” laughed Ensign MacMasters. “We
saw something wonderful. Every mirage is that. But it is a mystery,
too.”

Welcome to our website – the ideal destination for book lovers and
knowledge seekers. With a mission to inspire endlessly, we offer a
vast collection of books, ranging from classic literary works to
specialized publications, self-development books, and children's
literature. Each book is a new journey of discovery, expanding
knowledge and enriching the soul of the reade
Our website is not just a platform for buying books, but a bridge
connecting readers to the timeless values of culture and wisdom. With
an elegant, user-friendly interface and an intelligent search system,
we are committed to providing a quick and convenient shopping
experience. Additionally, our special promotions and home delivery
services ensure that you save time and fully enjoy the joy of reading.
Let us accompany you on the journey of exploring knowledge and
personal growth!
ebookfinal.com

Functional Programming in Scala 1st Edition Paul Chiusano

More Related Content

Similar to Functional Programming in Scala 1st Edition Paul Chiusano (20)

Recently uploaded (20)

Functional Programming in Scala 1st Edition Paul Chiusano