Torpedo-boat No. 445 easily led the procession of small fry. Her speed, a bare twenty knots, was a good two miles an hour more than the rest of the torpedo-boats, while she could give points to the swiftest of the armed trawlers that lumbered in the wake of the rest of the flotilla.
Tressidar stood on a little platform abaft the low conning-tower. He had plenty to do, for the intricate directions as to the course could be adhered to only by a series of careful cross-bearings and observations. A line of hostile mines had been reported off the coast, and already a passage had been cleared by the sweepers. Therein lay a great risk, for although the channel had been reported clear, there was always the possibility of a mine escaping the means employed to rid the sea of these sinister objects, while cases have arisen of a derelict mine being found in a spot that had been reported free only an hour previously.
The officers and crew of No. 445 knew the danger and met it with equanimity. The lightly-built, single-skinned hull of the torpedo-boat would be literally pulverised should she bump against a mine. The concussion would undoubtedly send the frail craft to the bottom like a stone, and those of the crew who survived the explosion would be unable to withstand the piercing coldness of the water. With them, familiarity did not breed contempt; it was merely a matter of indifference. With unseen perils surrounding them, the iron-nerved men were as cool as if the little craft were on a trial run during the piping times of peace.
Ahead the double flash of Dunletter Head lighthouse winked knowingly. It was one of those beacons whose usefulness, nay indispensability, to friendly crafts more than outweighed the service it might render to hostile craft. The absence of those well-known flashes, even for a couple of hours, might result in half a dozen wrecks upon the dangerous Dunletter reefs that thrust their jagged and submerged fangs nearly half a mile seaward from the frowning promontory.
"Starboard your helm," ordered the sub.
"Ay, ay, sir," replied the quartermaster.
Almost on her heel the torpedo-boat swung round. It had reached the limit of a discovered mine-field, and was now free to stand seawards. She, like her consorts, showed no lights. Only a ruddy glare from the funnels of a badly stoked furnace betrayed the presence of one of the flotilla, now a couple of miles on the port quarter. For two tedious hours the boats searched the sea within ten miles of the position in which the Zeppelin was reported. Although searchlights were brought to bear upon the waves, nothing resulted. Apparently the airship had foundered.
Suddenly an idea flashed across Tressidar's mind.
"I'll try it," he thought, and gave an order for the engines to be stopped.
When No. 445 lost way he made tests to ascertain the true direction of the wind. Although it was almost calm when he left Auldhaig, the sub. made the discovery that there was a steady draught from the south-west. He also knew that for the last four hours the tide had been making northwards.
A water-borne Zeppelin, he argued, was to a greater extent under the influence of the wind, and to a lesser extent of that of the tide, although that depended largely upon the area of the submerged portion of the huge fabric. Allowing the airship to have been drifting for four hours, by this time she must be at least sixteen miles from the spot where she dropped, unless in the meanwhile she had sunk.
Accordingly TB 445 made off in a north-easterly direction, the sub. sweeping the sea with his night-glasses with the air of a man who subconsciously feels convinced that his efforts will meet with success.
Shortly after two in the morning a slight mist, accompanied by cold rain and sleet, rendered the searchers' task a most difficult one. Speed was reduced to fifteen knots, and the look-outs doubled, since the little craft was now in the waters frequented by the north-east of Scotland fishing-boats.
"Light on the port-bow, sir," reported one of the crew, as the feeble glimmer of a masthead and port lights loomed through the mirk.
Tressidar telegraphed for "easy ahead," then "stop," at the same time ordering the helm to be starboarded in order to approach the strange craft.
"They're making a deuce of a noise," he soliloquised, as the murmur of a babel of voices was wafted through the night.
Even as he looked the sub. discovered that the beams of the vessel's masthead light were playing upon an immense indistinct mass lying apparently a cable's length to windward. The mass was the envelope of the Zeppelin.
Ordering both searchlights to be unscreened and played upon the airship, Tressidar had the torpedo-boat manoeuvred so that the trawler,—for such she proved to be—bore slightly on the starboard quarter. At the same time the three 3-pounders were trained upon the Zeppelin.
"I wonder if the Huns have collared that craft," thought Tressidar. "It looks jolly fishy."
"Ahoy!" hailed one of the torpedo-boat's men. "What craft is that?"
"Drifter 'Laughing Lassie' of Peterhead," was the reply with an unmistakable Scottish accent.
"Then what are you doing here?" shouted the sub.
"The Zepp.'s right across our nets," announced the master of the drifter. "We aren't going to cut them adrift for a dozen strafed Zepps. They want us to take them aboard, but we just won't."
The fishing-craft was steaming slowly ahead, just sufficient to keep a slight strain upon her nets. The rear gondola of the Zeppelin, dipping beneath the surface, had fouled them, and at the same time the airship was prevented from drifting further to leeward.
Taking care to avoid the nets, for there was a danger of the torpedo-boat's propeller becoming entangled in the meshes of tarred line, Tressidar brought his command slightly to windward of the crippled German airship.
With the exception of the after part she was floating buoyantly, stern to wind. On the platform on the upper side of the envelope were about a dozen of her officers and crew. Others were standing on the light, railed-in gangway connecting the foremost cabin with the midship gondola. Shown up by the glare of the searchlights were several jagged holes in the envelope, caused by fragments of shells from the guns of the anti-aircraft service cars.
"Think she'll fight, Bill?" the sub. heard a seaman enquire of his chum.
"Wish to heaven she would," replied the man. "We'd make it hot for them. But they won't, the brutes. They never do when they're cornered."
The speaker was in ordinary circumstances a steady, well-conducted seaman-gunner, who bore testimony to his humanity in the form of a silver medal from the Royal Humane Society for saving life under most hazardous conditions. Yet, without the slightest compunction, he would have sent a shell crashing into the inflammable gases of the Zepp.'s envelope. The mental vision of that ruined cottage with the slaughtered woman and her children had hardened his heart.
It was with almost similar sentiments that Tressidar hoped the Germans would put up a fight. With their superior armament they stood a chance of sending the little torpedo-boat to the bottom, or at any rate sweeping her decks with a murderous fire from her numerous machine guns.
She did neither. Instead, a man exhibited a large white flag, while the rest of the crew stood with folded arms, displaying a complete confidence in the willingness of the British seamen to save them from a lingering death in the wild North Sea.
With the quick-firers still trained upon the bulky target, No. 445 approached within hailing distance.
"Do you surrender?" shouted the sub. through a megaphone.
"Yes," was the reply, given by a tall, burly officer speaking good English. "We are disabled. We give ourselves up as prisoners."
"Very good," rejoined Tressidar. "You're in no immediate danger. Stand by to receive a hawser. We're going to tow you. But remember, any attempt to destroy or cause further injury to the airship will result in the death of every man jack of you. Do you quite understand?"
The German officers conferred amongst themselves. Then one of them gave an order to a member of the crew, who hurried to a hatchway amidships and disappeared from view.
"He's either gone to blow up the gas-bag or else he's been told to countermand a previous order to scuttle her," thought the sub. "Well, the business rests entirely in their hands. They'll have to realise that I won't be fooled with."
"We are ready to be taken in tow," shouted the German officer.
Ordering easy ahead, Tressidar brought his command almost alongside the steam drifter.
"You'll have to cut your nets, skipper," he said, addressing a short, thick-set man whose proportions were grotesquely exaggerated by a stiff oilskin worn over a thick great-coat. "I want you to take that Zepp. in tow and run her into Auldhaig. You will be compensated for the loss of your nets and in addition receive a large sum for salvage."
With the utmost alacrity the master of the drifter gave the necessary orders. The half-mile of nets was cut adrift, and the powerful engines manoeuvred until it was possible to heave a coil of rope into the foremost gondola of the crippled airship.
Meanwhile Tressidar had sent out a flashing message—No. 445 not being equipped with wireless—in the hope of the good news being picked up by the rest of the flotilla. Although there was no response, the sub. gave the signalmen instructions to flash code messages at intervals, in order to impress upon the crew of the Zeppelin that the torpedo-boat was not unsupported.
Slowly the trawler forged ahead, the partly water-logged airship wallowing awkwardly in tow. To guard against treachery—which, Tressidar knew, would be regarded as a smart action on the part of the Huns—No. 445 kept on the starboard quarter of the Zeppelin, ready at the first sign of a suspicious nature to place a shell into the interior of the highly inflammable envelope.
Mile after mile the trawler towed her bulky charge, her course through the mine-infested water being directed by signals from the torpedo-boat, whose searchlights were continually playing upon the prize.
Greatly to Tressidar's satisfaction, he observed that the airship showed no signs of sinking still more. Apparently the air-tight subdivisions enclosing the ballonets were sufficiently strong to resist the pressure of water. The submerged portion, too, acting as a drag in the sea, prevented the Zeppelin from yawing excessively, especially as the wind was now broad on the port beam.
The chances were that at last a practically undamaged and repairable Zeppelin would be brought into a British port.
A red hue in the eastern sky betokened the dawn of another day with the promise of bad weather. Gradually the beams of the searchlights began to pale before the increasing morning light.
Several miles to windward columns of smoke denoted the presence of the rest of the patrolling craft, which, having abandoned their midnight search, were returning to port.
It was now time for the trawler to alter her course eight points to starboard. She had passed the dangerous area, and could now run parallel with the coast until she reached the entrance to Auldhaig Firth.
Of the Zeppelin's crew not a man was visible. Apparently accepting the inevitable, they had taken shelter from the keen air and driving rain until they were ordered ashore by their captors, there to enjoy the comparatively luxurious life of prisoners of war.
Suddenly the whole fabric of the airship burst into sheets of lurid flame. Shafts of dazzling light shot skywards, mingled with flying debris. Almost immediately came the deafening crash of an explosion, followed by a blast of hot air that swept the torpedo-boat like a tornado.
For a few moments Tressidar was unable to grasp the situation. Where the Zeppelin had been was a dense cloud of smoke, that, caught by the wind, was drifted down upon the sub.'s command until the men were literally gasping for breath. Then upon her decks fell fragments of aluminium girders and wisps of burning fabric that, hurled upwards to an immense height, was beginning to fall in all directions.
The trawler, released from her tow, was forging rapidly ahead, the hawser trailing astern with a succession of jerks. Not until later was it ascertained that several of her crew had been hurled to the deck and seriously injured by the blast of the explosion, while the others were so dazed by the concussion that it was some time before the helm could be steadied and orders given to slow down.
"Rough luck!" muttered Tressidar. "Still, those fellows in that Zepp. had some pluck to blow her up with all on board."
But the sub. was wrong in his surmise. Nemesis, in the shape of a drifting German mine, had overtaken the air-raider of the night. In turning, the trawler had fortunately missed the latent weapon by a bare yard, while the airship, having to describe a wide circle, had brought the submerged gondola in contact with the sensitive horns of the mine with disastrous results.
"After all, there's some consolation," thought Tressidar as he went below to write out his report. "There's one Zeppelin the less."
Midway between the coasts of Norway and Iceland and at less than three degrees south of the Arctic Circle the British light cruiser "Heracles" was on patrol duty. She was one of a chain of swift vessels spread out betwixt Iceland and Cape Wrath in order to tighten the net that was being cast about Germany's sea-borne trade.
Germany's mercantile fleet had long since been swept off the five oceans, but her sea-borne trade still continued. Thanks to the incapacity of a certain section of the British Government to grasp the necessity for a stringent blockade, neutrals, bought by Teuton gold, were actively engaged in importing enormous quantities of goods, more than ten times the amount needed for their own consumption, and were waxing rich by means of the inflated prices that the Huns were forced to pay in order to obtain the necessaries for carrying on the war.
But at last, owing to popular clamour rather than to the inclination of the civil authorities, the British Government had been forced to action. The great silent navy, that for months past had had to overhaul ship after ship without being allowed to detain what were obviously supplies intended for Germany, was now unfettered.
"Stop everything," was the order. The "rights" of petty neutral States—parasites upon the belligerent nations—had to be waived if the Great War was to be won by the Entente Powers.
The "Heracles" was a vessel of 4,300 tons, mounting two 6-in. guns and eight 4.7's. Her speed was nineteen knots—sufficient to overhaul any merchant craft likely to be met with in high latitudes. She was manned by the officers and crew of the late cruiser "Pompey."
Six weeks had elapsed since Sub-lieutenant Tressidar was within an ace of bringing a Zeppelin into Auldhaig Firth. It was now late in February. A spell of comparatively fine weather had succeeded a month of continual blizzards. The sea, encumbered by drift-ice, was practically calm. The cold was intense. The vessel's masts and funnels, and in fact every part not readily to be swept clear, were outlined in dazzling white, the snow having frozen into a hard coat. Morning after morning the hoses had to be connected up and hot water played upon the muzzles of the guns in order to remove the ice from the bore. Officers and men, clad in thick woollen and fur garments, were faced with the problem of drawing the line between bodily warmth and activity. If, on the one hand, they wore sufficient to withstand the morning cold, the free use of their limbs was seriously impeded; if, on the other hand, they had to shed their super-coats in order to tackle a job that required agility, they were in danger of being "nipped" by the icy blast.
Yet week after week the monotonous patrol work was maintained. Frequently days passed without a strange sail being sighted, until the monotony became almost appalling.
Nor did the long nights tend to improve matters. Daylight, frequently little more than a pale twilight, lasted only four hours in the twenty-four. The remaining twenty consisted of intense blackness, without even the stars to cheer the men in the long night-watches.
"Sail on the starboard bow."
A wave of subdued interest swept over the ship's company. Anything in the nature of a strange craft was sufficient to break the deadly tediousness. Of course she would only be one of those Norwegian traders outward bound. It was too much to hope otherwise.
The stranger came up rapidly. Upon sighting the "Heracles" she made no attempt to alter her helm, but stood doggedly on her course. She was a large vessel, bordering on 10,000 tons. On her sides were painted the Norwegian colours, while the mercantile ensign of that nation was displayed aft.
A shot fired across her bows had the desired effect. She backed her engines and, gradually losing way, brought up within two cables' lengths of the British cruiser.
"What ship is that?" was the peremptory signal from the "Heracles."
"The 'Frijick' of Bergen," was the reply. "Why are we detained? We are neutrals."
"Must examine your papers," rejoined the British cruiser. "Stand by to receive a boat."
"Away cutter."
The pipes of the bos'n's mates trilled in the keen air as the boat's crew, armed in case of emergency, rushed to their duty. Quickly the falls were manned and the boats swung outboard, Tressidar being in charge.
With a loud splash the boat struck the water. Dexterously the falls were disengaged, the lower blocks swinging with a sharp crack against the cruiser's side.
"Give way, lads!"
As one the double line of blades dipped and the boat drew away from her parent, for the "Heracles" had now circled slightly to starboard and had almost bows on to the Norwegian.
At that moment half a dozen port-lids, cunningly concealed in the stranger's side, were lowered, and a line of flashes leapt from the quick-firers hitherto concealed. Simultaneously two torpedoes shimmered in the dull light on their brief journey through the air before they took to the water and headed at the rate of an express train towards the British cruiser.
Taken completely by surprise, the sub. gave an order to "Back all." The cutter was on the point of entering the direct line of fire. To attempt to return to the "Heracles" was to court disaster, for already shells were bursting against her unarmoured bows.
With the discharge of the torpedoes the disguised German cruiser, for such she was, began to forge ahead. Under a false flag she had attempted to deal a knock-out blow at her more heavily armed antagonist, and she all but succeeded.
Well it was that the British cruiser was pretty well bows on to her antagonist, for the first torpedo, passing almost underneath the cutter's keel, missed the "Heracles'" port quarter by a few yards. The other seemed as if it were making straight for the almost motionless ship when, with a terrific report, a column of water was thrown up a couple of hundred feet in the air at less than half a cable's length from the boat under Tressidar's command.
By sheer good luck as far as the "Heracles" was concerned, the powerful locomotive weapon had struck a huge block of almost submerged drift-ice, sending fragments in all directions. Several of the men in the cutter were slightly injured by pieces of falling ice, while for six minutes the boat rocked violently in the confused water churned up by the explosion.
Meanwhile both ships were rapidly drawing away from the cutter, and were firing furiously. Already the superior gunnery of the "Heracles" was beginning to tell, for several gaping holes were visible in the German cruiser's sides, through which volumes of smoke were pouring. The Hun, unable to score by a coward blow, was showing her heels, and although it was impossible at the present juncture to ascertain which craft had the advantage of speed, she had perceptibly increased her distance before the British cruiser had got into her stride.
Nor had the "Heracles" come off lightly. The first hostile broadside had played havoc with her upper deck. Huge rents appeared in her funnels, thereby decreasing her forced draught, while—which was to be particularly deplored—both her fore and after topmasts had been shot away and with them the wireless aerials.
Keeping slightly out of the wake of the German cruiser lest she should drop a chain of mines in the track of her pursuer, the "Heracles" held grimly in chase, giving and receiving punishment as she did so. Her antagonist's guns were not to be despised, although not equal in calibre to those of the British cruiser; but since the "Heracles" could only bring her bow 6-in. and the two foremost broadside 4.7's to bear against the German's four 5-in. guns mounted aft, the chances were, until the "Heracles" drew broad abaft her foeman's beam, fairly even on both sides.
It was modern warfare with the "Nelson touch." Theoretically the naval battle of the present day is fought at long range, but here were two well-armed vessels fighting each other at point-blank distance.
In spite of their underhand tactics, the Germans fought gamely. Undeterred by the accurately placed shells that rained upon her quarter-deck, the Huns stuck to their guns.
Still exchanging shots, the two vessels were lost to sight in the haze of the northern seas, and Tressidar and his eleven men found themselves alone upon the deserted ocean.
With the excitement of watching the ocean duel still fresh in their minds, the cutter's crew did not readily realise their predicament. They had sublime faith in the ability of the "Heracles" to give the Huns "a proper hammering" and that in due course the British cruiser would return and pick up her boat.
For some time the sounds of the violent cannonade were borne faintly to their ears; then, save when a man's hearing played tricks upon him, the noise of the firing died utterly away.
Hour after hour passed, but no sign of the returning cruiser. The horrible thought that perhaps the "Heracles" had been sent to the bottom took root and increased in Tressidar's mind. Yet no hint did he give to his men. In order to occupy their minds and to keep their blood circulating—for in the open boat the cold was intense—the sub. ordered them to row, the oarsmen relieving each other every half-hour. Round and round in a vast circle the cutter went. Tressidar was too cautious to take the boat far from the spot where she had parted company with her parent ship, otherwise, should the "Heracles" return and find no sign of the cutter, she would most likely conclude that the boat had either been swamped or blown to atoms by a stray shell.
To add to the discomfort of the cutter's crew, it was now raining the steady downpour accompanied by occasional sleet and drifts of fog. Frequently the extent of vision was limited to less than half a mile. In these circumstances the chances of being picked up by the "Heracles" were greatly diminished.
Presently one of the men caught sight of a grey pointed object forging through the detached pieces of drift ice. At first glance it resembled a destroyer, save for the difference in colour. It was a vessel of some sort, but different from any that the cutter's crew had yet seen. It had a slightly raised fo'c'sle, large superstructure, and two slender masts fitted with wireless gear.
"A German submarine!" exclaimed a seaman hoarsely. "My word, ain't she a whopper!"
It was an unterseeboot of the newest type—resembling a small cruiser rather than the accepted idea of a submarine. Trimmed for surface running, she exposed a freeboard of nearly ten feet. For'ard were two twelve-pounder guns in circular turrets, so arranged that they could be lowered below the deck in a few seconds whenever it became necessary to dive. In the elongated superstructure, which comprised not only the conning-tower but several spacious compartments, were gun-ports fitted with watertight lids. These were now triced up, revealing the muzzles of four seven-pounder quick-firers. From the after end of the superstructure floated the Black Cross of Germany, while abaft were two more "disappearing" guns and the above-water mine-dropping gear.
Already the two for'ard guns were trained upon the luckless cutter. At any moment shells might be dealing death and destruction amongst her crew.
"Stand by with your rifles, lads!" ordered Tressidar. "Keep them out of sight until I give the word."
In silence the men awaited the submarine's approach, ignorant of what was about to take place. The sub. had wisely refrained from making any sign of resistance. He had decided not to give the Germans a chance to justify their opening fire; but should they do so, the cutter's crew would fight to the last.
After a while the submarine slowed down and stopped at a little less than a cable's length to windward of the boat. A couple of heavily clad officers standing on the platform formed by the roof of the superstructure examined the cutter through their binoculars. Then one made a remark to the other and both laughed uproariously.
Meanwhile the bow guns were still trained upon the cutter. Abreast of the superstructure a seaman, acting upon orders from his officers, held up a coil of rope to signify the willingness of the submarine's crew to take the boat in tow.
Tressidar shook his head emphatically. It would be far preferable to remain adrift in the open boat than to trust to the tender mercies of the kultured Hun.
Slowly the submarine forged ahead and circling passed within twenty yards of the cutter. For a few moments Tressidar was under the impression that the U-boat was about to ram the little craft, but he was mistaken.
"No take help from Zhermans?" shouted one of the German officers. "Sorry we have no room for you on board, or we vos take your prisoners to Zhermany."
Twenty or thirty men who formed the submarine's crew laughed boisterously at the plight of the British seamen; but, somewhat to Tressidar's surprise, no attempt was made to molest the cutter. With her crew still jeering, the submarine increased her speed and was soon out of sight.
The short day was drawing to a close. Benumbed by the cold, the men huddled close together for mutual warmth. They were too exhausted to indulge in conversation. Their frozen hands could not retain their grasp upon the looms of the oars, yet uncomplainingly they sat with compressed lips, looking in vain for the return of the "Heracles."
As night came on a lantern was lighted and exhibited from a boathook set upright through one of the thwarts. The rain had now ceased. It was snowing slightly, with the promise of a heavy blizzard before many hours had passed. All around the drift ice floated in compact masses, until there was danger of the boat being nipped between the enormous floes as they ground in the long swell.
Just before midnight the thud of a ship's engines became audible. Gradually the sound drew nearer and nearer. A large vessel, showing no lights, was cautiously making her way through the drift ice.
The ship was not H.M.S. "Heracles." The cutter's crew knew that by the noise of the engines, for it lacked the rhythm of the cruiser's smoothly running machinery.
She was certainly coming in the direction of the boat, but the question was, would she stop. Since she had gone a long way to the northward of the usual trade routes, it was evident that the vessel had good reasons for wishing to avoid examination by the British patrol craft, and would not be likely to stop at the signal of distress.
Accordingly the sub. determined to bluff her. By means of a Morse flashing-lamp, with which the cutter was equipped, a peremptory order to heave-to was sent. For a few moments the men waited in acute suspense. Upon the success of the demand depended their lives, since they had little chance of outliving the rigours of a long winter's night in the ice-infested sea. A steady white light shone through the darkness, followed by the signal "I am heaving-to."
"Give way, lads," exclaimed Tressidar encouragingly. "Another five minutes will do the trick."
Gathering their remaining energies, for the men were almost done up, the rowers urged the boat in the direction of the now motionless steamer, and ranged alongside her towering hull, the rail of which seemed lost in the darkness overhead.
A coil of rope, hurtling from the deck, dropped into the cutter. The bowman, his fingers numbed with the cold, fumbled as he took a turn round the for'ard thwart.
"Lower a ladder," shouted the sub.
"Aye, aye!" replied a voice with a pronounced foreign accent. There was neither cordiality nor resentment in the words; merely an acceptance with a good grace of a situation that could not be avoided.
The cutter was grinding alongside the rust-streaked wall-sides of the steamer. Her exhausted crew had not the strength to fend her off. It was, indeed, doubtful whether some of the men would be able to gain the vessel's deck without assistance.
A wire-rope ladder was lowered from the rail. Owing to the roll of the ship the lowermost rungs were at one moment three feet from the side. At another the ladder slapped vigorously against the iron plating in a manner that promised broken knuckles to the men as they climbed to safety.
Hardly able to move his limbs after his prolonged exposure in the boat, Tressidar gamely ascended. His nerveless fingers could hardly retain a grip upon the wet and slippery rungs. His boots slipped dangerously from the smooth rounded surface of the swaying ladder. Oppressed by the weight of his saturated clothing, he had more than once on the hazardous ascent to pause and regain his breath before he could summon his jaded energies to a renewed effort.
He fancied that the master of the vessel glanced curiously at him as he almost staggered upon the deck. Then, without a word, he drew himself up and waited until the last of his men had gained safety. Then, and only then, did he drop his plan of bluff.
"We were adrift in an open boat belonging to a British cruiser," he explained. "We should be glad of your hospitality until we fall in with another of our warships. Might I ask what ship this is?"
"The 'Freya' of Hammerfest, bound from New York to Gothenborg," replied the master. "We are only too glad to give you assistance; for a few hours, perhaps, since your ships swarm like ants. If you will send your men for'ard they will be attended to. Meanwhile, sir, will you favour me with your company in my cabin?"
"How about our rifles, sir?" asked one of the cutter's crew.
Tressidar hesitated. The men, being armed when they left the ship, ought to be under arms until they returned; but, on the other hand, it was hardly good taste to send them to the "Freya's" fo'c'sle with rifles and ammunition as if they were a prize crew.
The Norwegian skipper noticed his dilemma.
"Perhaps you would like me to take charge of them," he remarked. "Should we be stopped by a German submarine—one passed and was going south-west less than five hours ago—it would go hard with us if they found armed Englishmen on board. I will be responsible that the arms will be returned to you intact when you are transferred to a British ship."
The sub. saw no reason why he should not do as the master of the "Freya" suggested. The chances were that the ship would be examined by a patrol vessel before many hours were passed. There was one problem, however, that he could not exactly solve, nor did he like to ask his host any question on the matter. If the "Freya" were what she was stated to be—a neutral trader from and for neutral ports—why did she go so far out of her course?
The arms were given up and the jaded men sent forward, where they were hospitably entertained by the Norwegian crew, who not only gave them hot food and drink, but lent them clothing while their own was being dried in front of the galley fire. Not until Tressidar was assured that his men were made comfortable did he go aft to the master's cabin.
"You are too tired to converse," remarked the skipper, as the sub. attacked a plain but appetising meal.
"Not at all," replied Tressidar, his anxiety to hear more of his host and the vessel under his command being uppermost in his mind.
The master, after the manner of his race, began by plying the sub. with numerous questions concerning his adventures, to all of which the sub. replied without any attempt at reticence. He knew that mistrust begets mistrust, and that if he "hedged" his own chances of obtaining information would be thrown away.
"So your ship was engaged with a German ship disguised as one of ours," remarked the master of the "Freya." "I hope she sunk her. These arrogant Germans have already torpedoed nearly twenty of our peaceable merchantmen and our Government can but protest If only we were a great nation how we would help to fight them! As it is, we can only expostulate, knowing that expostulation is of no avail so far as a German is concerned."
"Yet the submarine you fell in with this afternoon did not attempt to torpedo you?"
"No; but I think I can explain that," replied the Norwegian skipper. "She passed close under our stern and read our name. These fellows seem to have information of every vessel leaving American ports, and for which port they are bound. Those making for Scandinavia are generally left alone; it is only neutral vessels bound for British ports that are sunk."
"Perhaps that is why you took such a devious course," prompted Tressidar.
"Yes," admitted his host frankly, "and also to lessen the risk of hitting a German mine. Our troubles will commence when we enter the Skager Rack, for the Germans, in defiance of all international law, have mined that too. But before that, I trust, you will have no further need for my hospitality."
The skipper spoke with evident sincerity. His sympathies were wholly pro-British. He quite recognised the necessity for a stringent blockade of Germany and for the restriction of imports into Norway, Sweden, Denmark, and Holland.
"Of course it is a great temptation for our people to enrich themselves," he said, "only it is short-sighted policy. I feel convinced that should Germany win this war—and my opinion is that she won't unless the Allies make a serious and irreparable blunder—the liberty of the smaller States of Europe, even though they have preserved a strict and punctilious neutrality, will be gone for ever. But you have finished your meal: you would like to sleep? There is a bunk at your disposal. Should the slightest occasion arise, I will have you awakened at once."
Thankfully Tressidar accepted the offer. Half asleep, he threw off his clothes and turned in. A minute later he was in a deep slumber.
Tressidar awoke with a start to find himself in utter darkness. Accustomed to be aroused at all times and without warning, he was fully awake in an instant.
The "Freya" was rolling considerably. Against her sides the waves slapped viciously. Above his head he could see the seas pouring on deck with that almost indescribable sound that accompanies the rush of green water over the low bulwarks.
The rain had been succeeded by a stiff blow and the tramp was ploughing through a rough sea with the wind broad on her starboard beam.
"Thank goodness no middle watch for me to-night," soliloquised the sub. as he prepared to fall asleep again. "Wonder what the time is? I'll just see to satisfy my curiosity."
He leapt from his bunk and searched for the switch, for the after-cabin of the "Freya" was electrically lighted. Having switched on the light, he consulted his watch. It was twenty minutes to ten.
"By Jove, I've almost slept the clock twice round!" exclaimed Tressidar. "It was nearly two in the morning before I turned in. Seventeen hours at ten knots, if not more. Why, the old tub must be well across the North Sea by this time."
Wondering why the "Freya" had not fallen in with any patrol ships, the sub. dressed and left the cabin. In the saloon he found the Norwegian skipper, who was in the midst of a meal.
"You slept so soundly that we did not like to awaken you," he said as he rose to greet his guest. "There has been nothing to report. We have not sighted a single sail since yesterday. Please sit down and have some food."
"And my men?" asked Tressidar.
"They are all practically recovered except two, who have to keep to their bunks," replied the Norwegian. "They have all turned in again, but if you wish to see them——"
"No, I won't disturb them," the sub. hastened to declare, lest his desire to communicate with his men might give rise to unfounded suspicion. "To-morrow, perhaps. Where are we now, do you think?"
"About eighty miles due west of Cape Stodt, which is, you may perhaps remember, almost midway between Christiansund and Bergen," was the reply. "In order to avoid meeting German submarines, I have to hug the Norwegian coast. I am afraid we've evaded your cruisers, sir. Believe me, it was not by design, but by accident. Of course there is no reason why you should not return to England by steamer after we land you at Gothenborg, provided you and your men wear civilian clothes and discard your arms and ammunition."
"That is something to be thankful for," remarked Tressidar. "So long as I am back in England and able to rejoin my ship, I am content. Next to being a prisoner of war the lot of an interned man must be fearfully irksome."
"Quite so," agreed the skipper. "Now tell me: when do you think that the war will be over?"
"When we've properly whacked the Germans—not before," replied the sub. firmly.
"Then the sooner the better," added his host. "At the present time it is hardly safe for a neutral ship to be at sea. We neutrals are like a man standing on two rickety stools. At any moment one might collapse and let us down badly. Holland and Denmark are the worst off, I should say. It will indeed be a marvel if they can contrive to avoid being drawn in by the vortex, even as Belgium was."
"We came into the war to help Belgium," remarked Tressidar. "Only——"
The Norwegian smiled blandly.
"My friend," he interrupted, "let me tell you something. The onlookers see most of the game. The cry about violating the neutrality of Belgium that your politicians are so fond of raising is mere clap-trap. It served its purpose to unite the various political factions in England, that was all. You English had a chance that might, perhaps, never occur again. It was a favourable chance to smash German militarism, and, luckily for you, you took it. Even if Belgium had not been involved, Great Britain would have ranged herself on the side of France and Russia. When big Empires wage war, little States do not count."
Tressidar merely inclined his head in assent. He, too, knew that the Norwegian spoke the truth. Long before the German troops set foot in Belgium the British Fleet was "standing fast" in readiness to help in the necessary task of freeing Europe, nay, the world, from the menace of Prussianism as preached by the disciples of kultur.
At daybreak the "Freya" rounded the Naze, the southernmost point of Norway. Ahead lay the broad waters of the Skager Rack. In normal times, following the breaking up of the ice, the sound would be dotted with vessels of all nationalities engaged in trade with the Baltic ports. Now not a sail was visible. The heavily sparred German timber ships, like the rest of the mercantile navy of Prussia, had long since been swept off the seas.
The quaint Russian barques, too, that were familiar in almost every British port of any size, were no longer to be seen. A few Swedish merchantmen, timorously hugging the Norwegian coast, might have been discerned had the weather been clear. Otherwise, save for the spectacular "dashes" of a few German warships—short cruises to cheer up the Huns in the belief that their navy did plough the high-seas—the Skager Rack presented almost as desolate an aspect as the Dead Sea.
The "Freya" hugged the shore closely, keeping well within the three-mile limit. Even at that distance the land was frequently obscured by patches of mist that drove slowly across the sea under the mild southerly wind.
Presently the tramp ran into a thick bank of fog. With a dangerous shore so close under her lee, it was imperative that every precaution should be taken to prevent her being carried out of her course by the strong indraught. Speed was reduced to a minimum necessary to carry steerage way, while the syren was kept going to warn possible approaching vessels of her presence.
Suddenly, like the passing of a compact cloud across the sun, the fog lifted. The ship was still within the three-mile limit, but between her and the Norwegian coast was a fleet of warships steaming rapidly in the same direction and on a parallel course that, if maintained, would bring them within a cable's length of the "Freya."
"By Jove!" exclaimed Tressidar. "They are German vessels."
He was right. There were three light cruisers steaming in line ahead. On either hand were lines of torpedo-boats, while overhead at an altitude of about one thousand feet flew two Zeppelins of the most recent type. The Huns, fearing submarine attack, were taking no unnecessary risks. They were cruising in neutral waters, but the German populace was not to know that.
"Keep your men well out of sight," cautioned the skipper. "Even the Norwegian flag flying in Norwegian waters would not be able to protect you."
As he spoke the leading torpedo-boat of the starboard division sounded her syren imperiously. By all the rules of the road at sea the tramp, being the overtaken vessel, was entitled to hold on her course; but it was evident that the German flotilla was attempting to edge the "Freya" beyond territorial waters, although for what reason none on board her could certainly conjecture.
Nearer and nearer drew the warships, without making the slightest attempt to alter helm. Their syrens were braying frantically. It reminded the sub. of a herd of cattle trying to shift a little dog that impeded their way.
If the "Freya's" skipper held on, he realised that he would give the imperious Huns cause for offence. Reluctantly he gave orders for the helm to be ported in order to yield to the palpably illegal tactics of the German ships.
As the tramp altered her course the starboard column of torpedo-boats did likewise, until they were heading south-east or almost at right angles to the coast-line. The "Freya" was being jockeyed beyond the three-mile limit.
The sub. knew that he and his men were in a tight corner. Should the tramp be compelled to hove-to there was no escape. They could not be passed off as passengers, since their names did not figure on the passenger list. Nor was the ship certified to carry any persons besides her officers and crew.
Tressidar dismissed the proposal that he and his men should hide in the hold. Searched the ship would certainly be, and he was not going to be ignominiously hauled out of the hold by a mob of Germans.
At length, in fact directly the tramp had passed the limit of territorial waters, the peremptory hail to stop instantly came from the nearmost German torpedo-boat, which promptly swung out of station and slowed down.
"I am sorry, but it is not my fault," exclaimed the Norwegian skipper to Tressidar as he telegraphed to the engine-room for half-speed astern.
"You did your best: you had no choice," replied the sub. "We must make the best of the situation."
While the German torpedo-boat was manoeuvring to come alongside (it saved the trouble of sending away a boarding-party), Tressidar sent a couple of seamen to fetch the rifles and ammunition from the cabin. These he dropped overboard. At least they would not be allowed to fall into the hands of the enemy.
Barely had this task been completed when a tall, full-faced, blond unter-leutnant appeared over the side, followed by half a dozen armed men.
Directly he caught sight of Tressidar and the British seamen he half hesitated, fearing a trap. Then, possibly realising that he had thirty German warships to back him up, he waxed bold, and fiercely twirling his fair moustache, haughtily demanded to know what these English swine were doing on board a Norwegian ship?
The skipper of the "Freya," who spoke German as fluently as he did English, explained briefly and to the point, saying that he had acted merely in the dictates of humanity.
"Then so much the worse for you," retorted the German officer.
He walked to the side and reported his find to his superior, the kapitan of the torpedo-boat. Great was the excitement on board, while the news was quickly transmitted by semaphore to the flagship, which happened to be one of the three light cruisers.
Tressidar and the cutter's crew were then ordered over the side and sent on board the torpedo-boat. A thorough search was then made of the "Freya" lest any more British officers and men might still be in hiding, but without result.
"Your vessel is a prize to the German Government," declared the unter-leutnant, addressing the Norwegian skipper.
"A prize?" repeated the master. "For why?"
"You are conveying contraband."
"We are not," protested the "Freya's" captain. "We have not touched at a British port. Our papers prove that. And our cargo is not contraband."
"I did not say contraband cargo," said the German with a leer. "Men can be contraband as well as stores. You had English seamen on board, therefore you are under arrest."
"We were in Norwegian waters when you overhauled us," declared the skipper.
"No," replied the German. "Well beyond the limit. But what is the use of your protesting You are under arrest and the vessel is a prize. If you do not know how to make the best of the business, I will have to show you."
So with a prize crew on board, the luckless "Freya," escorted by a torpedo-boat, was taken into the Elbe, while Tressidar found himself a prisoner of war in the hands of the Huns.