CHAPTER XXIX
WHEN THE TRAWLERS SHOWED FIGHT
"Must be on the move at once," declared the A.P. "Ten precious hours wasted."
"Hardly," corrected the sub. "We've bagged an important prize. But, dash it all! Here I am in mufti, and my kit is at home. Telegraph office is closed for to-night, and there's no train beyond Plymouth even if there were time to make a dash for home."
"And that ramshackle motor has departed," added Eric. "In the words of the great tragedian What's-his-name, 'Alas! sirs, I am undone.' Now, the question is, how are two dog-tired fellows to get to Devonport? It's a serious matter, old man. Who knows? Perhaps the Admiralty have news that 'They' have come out at last. The papers reported signs of German naval activity in the North Sea, you know."
"And therefore I am inclined to doubt whether the Huns have ventured," said Tressidar. "You can bet your bottom dollar when they do come out they won't give the papers time to advertise the fact. But I quite agree with you, old man, this is a serious business. Have you a time-table?"
"Here we are," exclaimed the A.P. triumphantly. "If we pad the hoof to Totnes, we'll just catch the night mail. That will land us in Plymouth at 1 a.m."
He was busy packing his portmanteau, desisting only to hunt up the train. With the sub.'s assistance he contrived to close the bulky leather case.
"Well, good-bye, mother," he exclaimed. "Sorry the governor and Doris aren't here to say good-bye Suppose I can't grouse at having my leave cut down.... May be home again in a few months. So buck up, mother; it's no use being down in the dumps, is it?"
Tressidar had deliberately gone out of the house. The A.P. rejoined him in a few minutes.
"Can't understand why the mater gets in such a stew," he remarked. "She ought to be used to saying good-bye by this time. I do my level best to tell her that there's little danger, certainly less than in the trenches in France, but she won't see it. Now, then; it's six good miles of hilly road. Wonder how old Overfirst, or whatever his tally is, likes being in the cells?"
It was three in the morning when the two chums arrived at the Naval Barracks. Here they received the information that they were both appointed to the brand-new monitor "Anzac," in lieu of two officers who had been sent to hospital. The "Anzac" was leaving the Hamoaze for Portsmouth at 9 a.m.
"Kitted out" by an obliging brother-officer, who also undertook to forward Tressidar's gear as soon as possible, the sub., accompanied by Eric, hurried on board.
Viewed in the waning starlight, for day was on the point of breaking, the "Anzac" appeared to be a vessel of about two hundred feet in length, with a tripod mast surmounted by a large fire-control platform. She had but one funnel, well abaft the mast. For'ard of the conning-tower was a turret mounting a pair of fourteen-inch guns; four six-inch quick-firers thrust their muzzles through casemates in the superstructure; while four twelve-pounder anti-aircraft guns and a pair of searchlight projectors were placed upon the bridge and a raised platform at the after-end of the superstructure.
At first sight the monitor gave the impression that she was top-heavy, until her enormous beam and length beyond each end of the superstructure belied the suggestion. The hull proper was little less than four hundred feet in length, with a maximum beam of one hundred and twenty. Her draught was but five feet six inches, the freeboard being but two feet for'ard and eighteen inches aft. Her maximum speed was a bare seven and a half knots.
The "Anzac" was still in the throes that invariably attend the first commissioning of a new vessel, for she had left the Clyde only three days previously, and had put in to Devonport to ship her fourteen-inch guns. On the run round to Portsmouth she was to undergo gunnery trials, and if no serious defects were revealed, she was to proceed to the North Sea to take part in impending operations.
Dog-tired, Tressidar turned in as soon as the chums had reported themselves to the officer of the watch. It seemed less than five minutes, although it was four bells (6 a.m.), when the sub. was roused and informed that the captain wished to see him.
"A wigging for being late, I suppose," he soliloquised. "A jolly bad beginning."
But he was mistaken. An armed trawler was to be navigated to Portsmouth, and the "Anzac" had to provide an officer and crew for the job. Tressidar, being the most recently joined, was selected by his skipper for this service.
"The 'Gannet' is lying off Wilcove," continued the skipper of the "Anzac." "She's ready for sea with the exception of victualling stores. You will have to demand these from Royal William Yard. She'll do twenty knots easily, without having to drive her, and even if we have a good start you ought to overhaul us before Portland Bill is abeam."
Already the crew told off for the service had fallen in for inspection. They numbered ten hands, including a chief petty officer. The "Gannet's" engine-room staff were already on board, having been shipped when the vessel left Belfast, where she had been re-engined.
The "trawler" was in fact a trawler no longer. A comparatively new boat, with lines that promised a fair turn of speed, she had been taken over by the Admiralty for use as a patrol vessel. Her machinery was removed and turbine engines substituted, giving her a maximum speed of twenty-eight knots. Her armament consisted of two twelve-pounder quick-firers, so woe betide the luckless German submarine that might mistake the "Gannet" for a slow and helpless fishing-craft.
Disquieting reports of the presence of a hostile submarine off St. Catherine's Point, a craft that had hitherto successfully evaded all attempts at capture or destruction, had necessitated the presence of the "Gannet" off the Isle of Wight, and arrangements had been made to "turn over" the R.N.R. crew of another armed trawler directly Tressidar brought his command into Spithead.
By dint of strenuous exertion the "Gannet" was able to leave Plymouth Sound at noon—the "Anzac" having had three hours start—and once outside the Breakwater, the sub. ordered fifteen knots, which were increased to twenty as soon as Bigbury Head was broad on the port beam.
"It would be a rare slice of luck," thought the sub., "if we could bag the strafed 'U' boat in the run up Channel, but that is asking for too much, I'm afraid."
The sea was smooth, with a long, oily roll. The sky was inclined to be misty, although it was possible to discern The Start, now less than ten miles off on the port bow. There were no signs of the "Anzac." The sea appeared to be deserted, except for two large Brixham trawlers, that, with all sail set, were floundering in almost a dead calm at a distance of about three miles on the starboard bow.
"Those luggers seem pretty close together, sir," remarked the helmsman of the "Gannet."
The sub. brought his glasses to bear upon the trawlers. Even allowing for the lack of ability to judge distance when seen through a pair of binoculars, Tressidar was bound to confess that there was something strange about the position of the two vessels. They appeared to be almost side by side. The wind, such as it was, was dead astern. One of the trawlers had her mainsail right out on the port tack, the other on the starboard, so that the outer cloths of each sail were rubbing against each other as the boats rolled sluggishly in the long swell.
"They are showing no signals of distress," said Tressidar. "At least, none are visible. I fancy there's smoke arising from one of them. Deucedly fishy, by Jove! I've a mind to see what the game is. Port your helm, quartermaster. Keep her at that."
With his glasses still bearing upon the Brixham boats, Tressidar puzzled over the situation until the "Gannet" was within a mile of the trawlers.
Suddenly he replaced his binoculars, grasped the handle of the telegraph indicator and called for full speed ahead, at the same time ordering all hands to action stations, for lying between the two fishing luggers was a German submarine.
Almost before the guns' crews could stand to their quick-firers the "Gannet" was within hailing distance. To Tressidar's surprise, he discovered that the unterseeboot was lashed to the fishing-vessels and that four of her crew were standing with their hands held above their heads, while the skipper and deck hands of each trawler were calmly surveying the Germans from the decks of their respective craft.
"You'm too late, maaster," sung out one of the Devon skippers. "Us'n done the trick proper-like. Still, if you'm a mind tu finish the business 'twill save we a mort o' trouble."
"I thought that the Germans were sinking you," replied Tressidar. "Stand by with a line. We are running alongside."
The "Gannet," losing way, made fast to one of the trawlers, and Tressidar, accompanied by half a dozen armed men, gained the fishing-lugger's deck.
The sub. was greeted by a tall, broad-shouldered Devonshire man of about fifty years of age. His heavily bearded face was almost hidden under a sou'wester, in spite of the fact that the sun was shining brightly. On the deck just abaft the windlass was a young German unter-leutnant, bound hand and foot and obviously half dazed with the result of a blow on the left temple. Two German seamen, their clothes saturated with water, were lashed to the mizzen mast.
The trawler had sustained damage. Her bitts had been carried away, with the result that her bowsprit had run in, and a raffle of head sails and gear littered the fo'c'sle. The other trawler appeared to be undamaged, with the exception of a large rent in her mainsail. The submarine, or as much as was visible above water, looked a wreck. The cover of her conning-tower hatchway was buckled, her twin periscopes had been snapped off close to the deck. Her ensign staff, with the Black Cross flying, was trailing over the side, and one of her disappearing guns had been dismounted.
"She tried her tricks on we, an' we wouldn't have any," declared the skipper proudly. "Them didn't reckon wi' Devon lads, did 'em, Bill?"
His mate, thus appealed to, merely grinned and scratched his head. Nor was the master of the second lugger more communicative.
"Us seed Charlie a-doin' the job properlike, so we gi' a hand. Not as though Charlie wasn't good enough for the job," he explained, "but us thought 'twas a good chance to get our own back, so we chipped in."
Early that morning the luggers "Crown and Sceptre" and "Unity" had left Brixham in company. The weather then was considerably more hazy that it was later in the day. Having made good hauls, the trawlers were beating up towards The Start when a German submarine suddenly poked its ugly snout above water. Making certain that the two craft were really fishing-boats and not armed trawlers, the Hun commander decided to replenish his grub-locker with fish from the English craft and then send the Brixham trawlers to the bottom.
The "Crown and Sceptre," being nearest to the "U" boat, was hailed and ordered to heave-to. Cap'n Charles Hunnable quickly hauled his headsails to windward and took way off the trawler. The "Unity" meanwhile held on, trusting for a breeze to enable her to escape.
"Shall us put up a fight, boys?" asked the Devon skipper. "If us does, there must be no half measures, mark you."
Her crew, consisting of two men and a boy, agreed. The fighting spirit of the shire that boasts of such gallant seamen as Drake and Raleigh still lives, and the Brixham men are worthy upholders of the traditions of the Devon forbears.
"'Tes good," continued Skipper Hunnable. "Long Jarge, do 'ee stand by t' hellum. Jim, you keep along o' me. Peter, slip for'ard an' when I give the word do'ee let jib and fores'l draw."
The submarine had now slowed down and was lying less than twenty yards on the trawler's starboard quarter. It was originally the intention of the German commander to order the Englishmen to launch their boat and bring the fish to their captors, but realising that the boat was a heavy one and that it would take some time to be hoisted out, he ordered the submarine's collapsible boat to be manned.
Into the frail craft stepped an unter-leutnant and three seamen.
"You vos throw us a rope," shouted the young Hun as the boat came alongside. "Your hatches you uncover must and fish ve vos take. Den ve vos you sink in five minutes."
A rope was thrown, the canvas boat was made fast alongside, and the unter-leutnant scrambled up and over the bulwarks, which were about three feet above the deck and seven feet from the waterline.
Directly his legs were astride the rail, Skipper Hunnable's powerful fist shot out like a sledge-hammer.
"You'd take my fish, would you!" he roared. "Take that, you young sausage."
The German officer, stunned by the blow, was grasped by the skipper before he fell overboard. Simultaneously Peter drove a triple-barbed eel spear through the canvas boat and cut the rope that held her.
"Up helm!" ordered the skipper. "Boy, trim your heads'l sheets."
"'Tes no half measures, say I," he continued, and he lifted the unconscious German officer and bore him aft. "Ef 'em shoots, then the'll shoot this gold-braid pup too."
Quick on her helm the "Crown and Sceptre" gathered way and showed her stern to the astonished submarine. The German commander was in a quandary. He dare not shell the trawler for fear of hitting his subordinate, until he drew ahead sufficiently to enable her quick-firer to plank a shell for'ard and between wind and water. He was convinced that the "Crown and Sceptre" was attempting to seek safety in flight, but he was grievously mistaken. Skipper Hunnable's blood was up.
Gybing "all standing," since there was little risk of loss of top-hamper as the wind was light, the Brixham trawler turned and tore straight for her antagonist. Before the submarine could manoeuvre to avoid the blow, the lugger's massive bowsprit struck her on the conning-tower. The hefty spar stood the strain, but not so the bitts. With a rending crash the bowsprit was forced inboard, but the mischief to the "U" boat was already done. The metal hatch was partly torn from its hinges, while in falling off the bowsprit made a clean sweep of the periscopes, wrecked the for'ard gun, and hurled the gun's crew into the sea.
A four-pound hammer hurled by the brawny skipper of the "Crown and Sceptre" hurtled through the air. With unerring aim it struck the Hun commander on the side of the head, killing him instantly.
Held by the raffle of cordage for'ard the lugger swung round broadside on to the submarine.
"Come on, lads!" roared Skipper Hunnable. "The old boat won't hurt where she be."
Seizing axes and crowbars, the crew followed the daring skipper to the deck of the submarine. "Long Jarge," brandishing a formidable hatchet, took his stand by the conning-tower hatchway, ready to deal a smashing blow to the first man that appeared, while the skipper and the rest of his little crew chased the two German seamen who were on deck and drew the watertight slide of the after-hatchway.
The Devon men now had things all their own way. The "U" boat could not dive with her conning-tower hatchway in a damaged condition, or she would fill and sink like a stone. Nor could the trapped Huns use their rifles and revolvers. One foolhardy man attempted to take a chance shot through the after-hatchway, but directly his hand appeared above the coaming, Peter smashed it to a pulp.
The state of affairs now developed into a deadlock. The submarine could not escape, nor could the British fishermen regain their craft without risk of losing the advantage they at present held.
At this juncture the crew of the "Unity," perceiving that Skipper Hunnable was putting up a fight, but ignorant of how matters stood, determined to go to their comrades' aid, and sink or swim in the attempt.
Luffing smartly under the submarine's submerged stern, Skipper Biddlecombe brought the "Unity" up on the "U" boat's starboard side and made fast.
"What be you a-shovin' your five eggs in for, I'd be likin' tu know?" was Skipper Hunnable's greeting to the newcomers.
"No offence, Charlie," replied the fellow-skipper. "Us don't get the chance tu fight the Huns every day."
"True, true," rejoined the master of the "Crown and Sceptre." "You'm handy just now. Bid young Jack bring a shovelful o' coals and a bit o' junk. We'll have to be smokin' them chaps out, I'm thinkin'."
Ignorant of the risk they ran, the fishermen were about to throw smouldering tow down the hatchways into the petrol-laden atmosphere of the interior of the submarine when the Germans, realising the fate that threatened them, began to raise shouts of "kamarade."
"Thought better of it, eh?" said Skipper Hunnable. "Douse them coals, Jack. Now, you rascals, up you come. Four o' you. Drat you! I said four o' you. One, two, dree, four—not a round dozen. That's better. Now, hands up, an' keep 'em up. Rest o' you chaps below there are you a-listenin'?"
"Ja, ja!" was the reply.
"Don't you yah me, you lubbers," shouted the skipper. "Just you stand by, and don't get up to any tricks. If you du, down the lot o' you goes to Davy in double-quick time."
Having secured uninterrupted possession of the prize, the two skippers returned to their respective boats. Then it was that the crew of the collapsible boat that had been stove in, finding that the fishermen did not kill the prisoners in cold blood, swam to the "Crown and Sceptre" and were taken on board and secured.
"Charlie!" bawled the skipper of the "Unity," "wind's fair for home. Shall us try and take this craft in?"
"No need," replied his friend. "Look astern—there's a Government vessel a-comin' up at the rate o' knots."
CHAPTER XXX
A NOVEL DUCK HUNT
Having secured the surviving Germans from the submarine, and made certain that the Huns had not taken steps to destroy their craft on surrendering, Tressidar "wirelessed" the commander-in-chief at Devonport, reporting the capture and requesting that assistance would be sent to tow the prize into port.
The crews of the two Brixham boats cast off and resumed their interrupted run home, as unconcernedly as if bagging "U" boats was an everyday task. At the same time they took good care formally to make a claim for services rendered to the State, and this Tressidar countersigned according to their request.
It was nearly six in the evening before two destroyers arrived from Devonport. One of them took the captured submarine in tow, the other "stood by" in case another "U" boat might be lurking in the track of the prize.
Cracking on full speed to make up for the delay, the "Gannet" came within sight of St. Catherine's light by midnight, and having exchanged secret signals with the patrols in the Outer Examination Ground, she rounded the Nab Lightship and dropped anchor off St. Helen's.
The "Anzac" had already arrived and had gone into Portsmouth Harbour to ship additional ammunition. Barely had the "Gannet" brought up when a Government tug came alongside with her new crew, and took off Tressidar and the men lent from the monitor.
Hardly had the tug backed clear of the trawler when the latter began to heave up anchor. Five minutes later she was under way, bound for the North Sea.
"Something brewing, sir," remarked the master of the tug to the sub. "A whole crowd of them left Poole for the east'ard this afternoon, and seven from Portsmouth. There'll be a hot time out yonder, I'm thinking, before many more days are passed."
The "Anzac" was lying at No. 5 buoy. Her gunnery trials had been postponed by wireless on the run from Plymouth, and orders had been given for her to proceed alongside the Dockyard jetty to allow workmen to make important alterations to the mountings of the 14-in. guns.
Working day and night, the task would be completed in about forty-eight hours, in spite of the fact that the armoured roof of the turret had to be unriveted and removed before the work could be tackled.
"Rotten news, old man," was Eric Greenwood's greeting when the chums met on the following morning. "Seen to-day's paper? No? It concerns that slippery spy, Oberfurst."
"Not escaped?" asked Tressidar eagerly.
"Yes," replied the A.P. "And for once at least the authorities have acted promptly and have enlisted the aid of the Press. Here you are—a quarter of a column, with a detailed description of the wanted man."
The news was unfortunately only too true. The spy had been lodged in a cell in the county police-station, pending a decision as to whether he should be handed over to the civil, naval, or military authorities for trial.
A dull-witted policeman, whose activities hitherto had been restricted to "running in" tramps and vagrants and stopping motorists for exceeding a speed-limit that existed only in his imagination, had been detailed to keep watch on the prisoner. At four in the morning Oberfurst was apparently asleep. At half-past the constable, on looking through the observation hole in the door, saw the spy lying at full length on the floor with a gaping wound in his throat.
Instead of calling for assistance, the overzealous policeman unlocked the door with a view to rendering first aid, instead of which he received a blow over the head with the prisoner's supper-bowl that stretched him senseless across the threshold.
Not until six did the sergeant discover the still unconscious constable, and by that time Oberfurst had received a good hour and a half's start.
A piece of torn red silk handkerchief left in the vacant cell revealed the nature of the spy's ruse. He had tied the crimson fabric round his throat, and in the artificial light the deception was sufficiently realistic to delude the gaoler completely.
The papers, however, were convinced that recapture was the matter of a few hours only, as the district was being thoroughly searched by a strong force of police assisted by the military.
Eric Greenwood, well conversant with the rugged nature of Dartmoor, was of a different opinion, and Tressidar, who had occasion to remember the spy's cunning and daring, was obliged to admit his chum's arguments.
It was recognised, however, that the spy would have great difficulty in getting out of the country, should he wish to do so. Tressidar had previously reported that Oberfurst was in the habit of crossing to the Continent in the rôle of an American Red Cross emissary, and at all the seaports particular watch was kept upon every traveller. Ignorant of the fact that the deception had been discovered—unless the secret leaked out and came to the ears of the numerous German agents still active in Great Britain—Oberfurst might be tempted to risk another trip to Denmark or Holland.
This the authorities hoped he would do, for his capture would then be almost a certainty, while so long as he remained in the country he was a source of danger and anxiety to the realm.
The alterations to the "Anzac's" armament having been completed, the monitor proceeded to the back of the Wight to "calibrate." The gun trials being successful, she proceeded in company with two other monitors up Channel.
It was blowing fairly hard from the south-east'ard, and directly the three ungainly vessels cleared Spithead, they promptly showed what "wet" craft they were. The "Anzac's" low freeboard offered no protection from the "combers" that swept fore and aft, drenching the lofty bridge with blinding showers of spray.
When abreast of the "Royal Sovereign" lightship the wind veered a point or two until it was fairly abeam. The monitor now commenced to roll horribly, at one moment thrusting her bulging sides deeply into the sea, at another rearing until she showed her weather bilge-keel.
Had there been occasion to use her two 14-in. guns, it would have been impossible to train them with any degree of accuracy. Suitable for fair weather and in sheltered waters, the "Anzac," like the rest of her class, proved herself a mean substitute for the super-Dreadnoughts, whose bulk and draught rendered them admirably steady gun-platforms.
"Give me something with plenty of draught," thought Tressidar, as the "Anzac" gave an extra heavy roll. "A craft that will grip the water. If it gets much worse, she'll either have to cut and run for it, or else stand a good chance of going to Davy Jones."
"She'll take it quietly under the lee of the Belgian coast," remarked the navigating lieutenant, who had read his comrade's thoughts. "Especially if the wind veers a few points more."
Early next morning the "Anzac" dropped anchor within the Admiralty breakwater at Dover. Here a flotilla was assembling for the impending operations off the Flanders coast. One of the periodical visits to the German works at Zeebrugge was to be made on an imposing scale.
With the enormous sea-power at their disposal the British Admiralty could with little exertion drive the Huns away from the Belgian coast; but this for strategic reasons was undesirable. The Allied left wing rested on the sea. From the sea it could be fed and supplied with ammunition, and there was no danger of the flank being turned. On the other hand the Germans, not having command of the sea, were under obvious disadvantages. They were constantly open to the fire of British monitors. Thousands of troops had to hold their right flank without being able to fire a shot at the Belgian and British trenches, which terminated thirty or forty miles short of the Dutch frontier. Fears of an invasion under the guns of the British fleet compelled the Huns to hold the useless coast. Zeebrugge, on which they fixed their hopes as a base for their submarines, was no longer tenable. Its mole had been destroyed, its docks and canal basins rendered useless by the British guns. Without attempting to board a single soldier, the British kept a couple of German Army Corps literally on thorns.
At daybreak the monitors, accompanied by a number of destroyers and patrol craft, were within seven miles of the Belgian coast. The British tars made their preparations with grim earnestness and without undue haste.
Amongst the many services to be performed before the huge guns began to hurl their enormous projectiles at the foe, the buoyage of the adjacent neutral waters of Holland had to be made.
For this task a number of picquet-boats were detailed, each under the charge of a sub-lieutenant, who in turn were under the orders of a senior lieutenant. Skill in taking bearings was essential, since there was no desire to err even a cable's length on the neutral side.
Amongst the subs. detailed was Ronald Tressidar, who had to proceed to a point exactly on the three-mile limit, the position being "checked" by independent observations.
Lashed across the bows of the picquet-boat was a nun-buoy roughly three feet in diameter and four betwixt apex and apex. To the lowermost ring of the buoy, which was painted in red, white, and blue horizontal bands, was shackled fifty fathoms of light chain. At the other end of the chain was a "span" of heavier cable, each arm terminating in a fifty-six pound mushroom anchor.
A quarter of a mile to the nor'east'ard a Dutch cruiser was forging slowly through the water, her officers critically interested in the work of the British picquet-boats. The German batteries had refrained from opening fire, possibly on account of the proximity of the neutral cruiser, although it afterwards transpired that there was quite another reason for their passivity.
Keeping his picquet-boat running dead slow, bows on to the tide, so that the little craft was practically stationary over the ground, Tressidar determined his position.
"That's about it, sir, I think," he called out, addressing the senior officer, who was in another steamboat a short distance away.
"Near enough," replied the lieutenant. "At all events, I don't suppose the Dutchmen will quibble over it."
"Stand by to let go!" ordered the sub., speaking to the seamen for'ard. "Lower away roundly."
Mushroom anchor No. 1 disappeared with a splash, and having made sure that it was holding, Tressidar ordered easy ahead so as to drop the second anchor well clear of the former.
"Let go!"
The second anchor clattered overboard, taking with it the length of chain and the nun-buoy. Then, to the sub.'s surprise, the buoy, instead of floating sedately upon the surface, began to move rapidly through the water, impelled by some unseen force. So great was the rate of progress that the buoy frequently dragged beneath the surface, leaving a tell-tale swirl in its wake. Its direction was roughly south-west, which meant that it was being dragged away from neutral waters.
In a trice Tressidar grasped the situation.
"Full speed ahead, both engines!" he shouted, at the same time bidding the coxswain put the helm hard over and keep the picquet-boat dead on the buoy.
The lieutenant in the other steam-boat, having seen the nun-buoy dropped, was proceeding to another position when he, too, noticed that something was amiss, and promptly turned his craft and followed.
"Submarine foul of the bridle, sir, I think," shouted Tressidar through a megaphone.
The lieutenant had no doubt on that score, for being well astern, his steamboat was in the "wash" of the submerged craft, while the sub., being almost immediately above the submarine, was well in front of the disturbed water.
"Collar that buoy," sung out the sub., addressing the two bowmen. The latter, armed with long boathooks, poised themselves on the lurching fore-deck, like harpooners waiting for a whale to appear.
"Got her, sir," shouted one of the seamen, as he deftly engaged the head of the boathook in the metal rung of the nun-buoy. "She's carrying too much way; I can't get her aboard."
"Hold her, both of you!" exclaimed Tressidar, fearful lest the ring would carry away and the chain disappear from sight.
The picquet-boat was certainly gaining upon the submerged craft, for in a little while the seamen reported that the strain on the cable was diminishing. At length, by dint of the united efforts of the two men, the nun-buoy and about two fathoms of chain were lifted on the deck of the boat, and a couple of turns taken round the pedestal of the for'ard gun.
"Got her, by Jove!" exclaimed the sub. triumphantly as he ordered the engines to be stopped and allowed the picquet-boat to be towed by the submerged craft.
The trapped submarine had attempted to steal towards the British monitors, and having taken her bearing through her periscope, had submerged in Dutch waters. This was obvious, since the buoy, actually on the line of demarkation, had been swept away from the neutral zone.
At first her commander had been ignorant of the unpleasant fact that he was towing a British picquet-boat in addition to dragging two mushroom anchors over the sandy bottom; but when he made the disconcerting discovery he altered his course and attempted to make for Zeebrugge. This he did blindly, since he dare not rise to show her periscope above the surface. By dint of careful helmsmanship the picquet-boat also turned and kept dead in the wake of her invisible tug. By this time a dozen steamboats belonging to the flotilla arrived upon the scene.
Presently the drag of the anchor made itself felt, for the bottom of the sea had changed from sand to stiff mud. Still ignorant of the nature of the obstruction, the German lieutenant-commander was under the erroneous impression that he had fouled the moorings of a mine. He therefore reversed engines and attempted to back clear of the entanglement.
The easing-off of the strain on the chain gave Tressidar warning. Promptly he ordered "easy astern," at the same time megaphoning his suspicions to the nearest steamboats.
Unprovided with explosive grapnels, the boats were unable to make an end of the submarine by detonating a charge of gun-cotton against her hull. The coup de grâce would have to be administered by a destroyer, and up to the present no attempt had been made by the boats to summon one to their assistance. Officers and men were thoroughly enjoying their novel duck hunt, and were in no hurry to finish the sport.
But when the submarine commenced to back astern the possibility of her disengaging herself from the toils became apparent. Quickly two picquet-boats dashed in opposite directions across her supposed track, each craft towing a stout grass-line astern, to which were attached lumps of metal in order to sink the otherwise buoyant fibre.
The operation was successful, for the rope, caught by the revolving propellers, wound round the shafting like coils of steel, until the electric motors were brought to a dead stop.
"That's done the trick," exclaimed the lieutenant gleefully. "We've collared the tin of sardines and now we'll have to wait for the tin-opener. What water have we?"
A cast of the lead gave eleven and a half fathoms with a bottom of mud mingled with shells and coarse sand. The submarine, finding herself disabled, had "sounded" and was resting on the bed of the sea.
"Suppose we couldn't hike her clear and tow her alongside the 'Anzac?'" hazarded Stephens, one of the subs. "A strain of the old ship's steam capstan would heave her to the surface in a brace of shakes. Pity to rip up the strafed hooker when we have a chance of collaring her intact, isn't it?"
"May as well try," replied the lieutenant, who was loth to destroy the craft that had given him a "run for his money." "Tide's rising. We'll lower a couple of bights of chain and see if we can shift her. I don't suppose she has a deadweight of more than a couple of tons—if that. Hulloa! The ball's opening."
The German batteries had hitherto deferred opening fire for fear of damaging the submarine, which had left Zeebrugge and had made a circuitous course through Dutch waters. Having allowed her ample time to get clear of the danger zone, the Huns had begun to fire.
"Hang it all!" ejaculated Tressidar. "We'll have to send for the destroyers after all to finish the job."
But there was yet a respite, for the "Anzac" and two of her consorts were standing in and interposing themselves between the shore and the boats. In a few minutes the action became general, the 14-in. guns hurling their shells with terrific precision upon the hostile batteries.
Slowly the tide rose, and with it the strain of the hawsers began to take up. Deeper sunk the hulls of the steamboats, but the submarine showed no signs of leaving her muddy bed.
Unconcernedly the boats' crews "stood by," though not without risk, for, although the monitors successfully drew the enemy's fire, ricochets from the German guns came perilously close.
Suddenly bubbles appeared on the surface alongside the "Anzac's" picquet-boat's quarter, and with them a metal cylinder shot up from beneath the water. To it was attached a light line and a canvas tally on which was roughly scrawled the word "Communication."
"Steady, there," cautioned Tressidar, as one of the seamen prepared to fish up the object with his boat-hook. "Pass the bight of the line under it."
Ordering easy ahead, the sub. allowed the picquet-boat to travel as far as the scope of chain permitted, at the same time taking a steady strain with the bight of the rope until the cylinder broke away from the line that led to the submarine. Nothing happened so far as an explosion was concerned, for the sub. had his suspicions that there might have been a ruse on the part of the trapped Huns.
The cylinder was roughly twelve inches in diameter and two feet in height. It was one of a regular pattern supplied to German submarines for sending communications to the surface in the event of the vessel meeting with an accident that prevented her from rising. The diameter, being exactly the same as that of the torpedo-tubes, enabled the canisters to be discharged through them by means of compressed air.
"What sort of a haul have you got there, Mr. Tressidar?" enquired the lieutenant. "H'm, communication, eh? Suppose it's all right. There's no detonating mechanism inside, I hope?"
"I'll see sir," replied the sub., and ordering his men to the other end of the boat, so as to be out of harm's way in the event of an explosion, he unscrewed a disc in one of the ends of the cylinder. Within was a sheet of paper on which was written, "We surrender. Spare our lives. We will ascend in ten minutes from now—6.15 a.m., mid-continental time. Max Falkenheim, Kapitan-leutnant."
"By Jove, sir, we've made a capture!" announced Tressidar, handing the document to his superior officer. "It's signed by that fellow Falkenheim, the man who tried to escape from Auldhaig."
"And was afterwards rescued by some of his precious compatriots when they blew in the wall of his prison. I remember," added the lieutenant grimly. "One of the foxiest rascals that ever sailed under the Black Cross ensign. Yes, by smoke, dulce et decorum est to lay that chap by the heels. Pity you cut that rope, though."
"Why, sir?" asked the sub.
"Because we cannot now reply to the strafed Huns. See, there's a telephonic receiver inside the cylinder, and the wires are led inside the rope. Writing that note was to make sure that we should know of their willingness to surrender in case we didn't notice the telephone. Confound that brute! That was a near one."
The lieutenant's remark was addressed to a huge shell that, having already ricochetted once, struck the water within twenty yards of the nearest steamboat, and rebounding again, finally disappeared in a column of spray a mile away. The displacement of water caused by the impinging of the projectile made the little flotilla rock violently, while officers and men were drenched by the deluge of foam.
"Hurry up! Hurry up!" muttered the lieutenant impatiently, by way of invoking the submerged "U" boat. "You've had a good ten minutes and we want to make your acquaintance."
A reply came in the form of a slight disturbance of the water. The submarine was "blowing" her water-ballast tanks.
Then slowly—so gradually that the picquet-boats had ample time to back clear—the surrendered craft rose to the surface, as if dubious of the fate that awaited her.
The conning-tower hatch was thrown open, and Kapitan Falkenheim appeared, followed by his unter-leutnant. Still in doubt as to their reception, they saluted their conquerors, who punctiliously returned the compliment. At the same time the crew issued from the after-hatch and formed up, holding their hands above their heads.
"Ve vos surrender—so," shouted Falkenheim.
"All right," replied the British lieutenant. "We accept your surrender, provided you do no damage to your craft."
"Dot is so," agreed the kapitan. "Nodings done is to der unterseeboot."
Skilfully two of the picquet-boats were manoeuvred and brought alongside the prize and the German officers and crew were taken off. The bridle of the moorings that had been the cause of the submarine's misfortune was cast off—it had simply caught to the for'ard horizontal rudders—and the vessel taken in tow.
A signal was made for a destroyer to take charge of the prize, since the steamboats were too small for the task. Their share of the business was over. The kudos was theirs; they were content to shift the burden upon their comrades of the destroyer-flotilla.
Suddenly a bomb hurtled through the smoke-laden air and exploded with a terrific detonation close to the leading picquet-boat. The frail craft literally crumpled up and disappeared in a cloud of smoke, leaving a sub-lieutenant and two badly wounded seamen struggling for dear life.
Overhead was a German double-fuselaged biplane, intent upon the destruction of the captured submarine so that she might not fall into the hands of the British.
Another bomb dropped, without effect beyond sending a fragment of metal through the funnel of the "Anzac's" steamboat. Regardless of the danger, other picquet-boats dashed up to rescue the survivors of the sunken craft, while from the approaching destroyer a steady stream of shells was directed upon the hostile battleplane.
Unconcernedly the German aviators hovered overhead, circling and dropping their lethal missiles with a set purpose, until a bomb alighted fairly upon the fore-part of the submarine.
When the cloud of smoke had drifted away, the chagrined British sailors saw their prize had been snatched from their grasp. She was sinking.
Slowly her bows dipped. Her stern rose until the tips of her twin propellers were visible, then with the violent inrush of water she disappeared from sight and narrowly missed taking with her the "Anzac's" picquet-boat that was engaged in towing her.
But retribution was at hand. Heading swiftly towards the German aircraft was a British seaplane. So intent were the Hun airmen upon their task of scattering the little flotilla that they failed to notice the danger until the seaplane opened fire with her automatic gun.
Vainly the German aviators attempted to circle and bring their fixed gun to bear upon their attackers. The British seaplane had the equivalent to the weather-gauge of the old days of sailing—the advantage of superior altitude.
Struck in a vital part, the enemy battleplane appeared to crumple up in mid-air. Falling like a stone, the machine struck the water a tangled mass of struts and canvas. Quickly a picquet-boat hurried to the aid of the foe, but she was too late.
The wreckage, upside-down, was kept from sinking by the only undamaged float. Strapped to their seats, the Hun pilot and observer, even if they had escaped the hail of bullets, were drowned like rats in a trap.
"It's not been so dusty," commented the lieutenant in charge of the steamboat flotilla as he gave the signal for the various boats to return to their respective ships. "Sorry we didn't get that 'U' boat into port. Still, there's one the less."