"You're a troublesome card, Mr. Aubyn; delaying the march of justice by taking French leave."
This was the greeting of Lieutenant Gilroy, after Terence had reported himself on board the "Livingstone."
The sub. looked inquiringly at the speaker.
"Fact," continued Gilroy. "You are under notice to appear as principal witness at the trial of Major von Eckenhardt. The business was to have come off to-day, but in consequence of your tumbling overboard (we had the wireless report of your rescue) the trial is postponed till to-morrow. Congrats, old man, on your escape. Apparently you've had a lively time on board 'E Something'?"
"Fairly," admitted Aubyn, modestly. "But I wish to goodness I could cut this trial business. Why couldn't they push on with the show without me?"
"Ask me another," replied the lieutenant, shrugging his broad shoulders. "So buck up and make the best of a bad job. You'll be in good company, my lad, for I'm warned as a witness."
But the trial, which was to be held behind closed doors under the summary authority of the Defence of the Realm Act, never came off.
Von Eckenhardt succeeded in escaping from Edinburgh Castle during a dark, tempestuous night. Although searched when received into custody, he had contrived to secrete a small bottle filled with corrosive acid. This liquid applied to the bars of his cell made short work of those barriers. His knowledge of his environments must have been remarkably accurate, for after dropping a height of twenty-five feet from the window to the floor of the dry moat without sustaining any injury sufficient to impede his movements, he found his way down the precipitous sides of the Castle rock and got clean away.
The authorities left no stone unturned to attempt the recapture of the dangerous and daring spy, but their efforts were in vain. The disquieting thought remained that von Eckenhardt was still within the limits of Great Britain. His activity, amounting almost to recklessness, made it pretty certain that he would not return to the Continent while there was scope for work amongst his enemies; and, although it was unlikely that he would carry on his secret service work either in the vicinity of Rosyth or Great Yarmouth, it was surmisable that he would recommence operations in the neighbourhood of another important naval or military centre.
Shortly after the escape of von Eckenhardt the various units of the torpedo-boat-destroyer flotilla to which the "Livingstone" belonged were sent out on detached service. Since the repetition of the luckless German raid seemed unlikely, at least until the extensive repairs to the "Derfflinger" and "Moltke" were carried out, the necessity for keeping the full complement of flotillas ceased to exist. Hence the "Livingstone" was ordered to proceed to a certain rendezvous off the Lizard, in the vicinity of which one of von Tirpitz's pirate submarines was making itself a considerable nuisance to British merchantmen bound up and down Channel.
Twenty-four hours after leaving the Firth of Forth the destroyer arrived at her appointed station, where she had the mortification of hearing that a large tramp steamer, the "Quickstep," had been held up and sunk only two hours previously.
All the destroyer could do was to tow the ship's boats with the survivors within an easy distance of Falmouth; then back the "Livingstone" doubled, her officers and crew filled with the utmost keenness to meet and destroy the skulking terror of the deep.
About three bells in the First Dog Watch the lookout reported a sail in sight, which quickly proved to be a large two-masted cargo vessel bound down Channel.
As she came within signalling distance she made her number, announcing that she was the SS. "Syntax" of London, and inquired if the destroyer had seen any of the enemy's submarines.
"Tell them 'yes'," ordered Gilroy, who was the officer of the watch. "And inform them that we will escort her as far as the Wolf Rock. Beyond that she ought to be fairly safe."
"Tough old skipper of that packet," remarked Terence, pointing to the "Syntax." "He doesn't deign to sail under false colours—there's the good old 'red' flying as proudly as any merchant skipper could wish. And I wouldn't mind betting that there isn't a firearm on board, except the signal gun and perhaps the old man's revolver."
"We'll mother him all right," declared Gilroy optimistically. "It would go hard with any German submarine that dared to show her periscope now," and he indicated the man standing by the for'ard 4-in. gun, ready at the first alarm to shoot and shoot straight—for the No. 1 was one of the best gunlayers of the flotilla.
With her speed reduced to a modest twelve knots, in order to keep station with her convoy, the destroyer turned and followed the "Syntax" at a distance of one seamile astern and slightly on her port quarter.
Just as the sun was setting, the lofty needle-like pinnacle of the Wolf Lighthouse was observed, rising above the horizon and backed by the vivid crimson of the disappearing orb of day.
There was little or no wind. The surface of the sea was as placid as a mill-pond, broken only by the bow-wave of the two vessels. So calm was the air that the savoury smell from the galley of the merchant vessel was wafted to the nostrils of the officers on the bridge of the destroyer. On the lofty fore-deck a seaman was about to hoist the steaming-lamp. His figure silhouetted against the ruddy light was, when viewed from the destroyer, just clear of one end of the bridge.
For no apparent reason Terence kept his glasses focussed on the man, who, awaiting the order to send the light aloft, was taking a farewell view of the rapidly-receding coast-line of Old England, for the Cornish hills were just visible abaft on the starboard quarter.
Suddenly the fellow put the lamp on deck and shouted. Although Aubyn heard no sound, he could distinctly see the seaman's mouth working as he pointed to something on the starboard hand. Then heeling heavily to port the "Syntax" circled in the direction indicated.
"A submarine, by Jove!" ejaculated Terence. "On the tramp's starboard bow—and the old man's trying to ram her."
Gilroy, too, levelled his glass, but owing to the glare on the water he could pick up no sign of the submarine. But Terence was right in his surmise. A periscope had emerged from beneath the surface at less than a cable's length from the "Syntax." The courageous old skipper had put his helm hard a-port, with the laudable intention of ramming and sending the submarine to the bottom.
He missed; more, the hull of the cargo steamer screened the submarine from the destroyer's bow-gun.
"That's done it!" ejaculated Gilroy, as a column of water tore skywards on the far side of the luckless vessel. The merchantman heeled violently, recovered herself with a corresponding roll, as her main-mast buckled, burst its shrouds and toppled across the deck.
"Full speed ahead!"
The engine-room telegraph gong had scarce ceased vibrating ere the "Livingstone" leapt ahead like a greyhound released from its leash. With the oil-fired engines running at their utmost capacity the destroyer quickly circled round the doomed vessel, but not a sign of the modern pirate was to be seen. Having shot the cowardly bolt, the submarine had quickly dived, and perhaps was lying en perdu eighty feet beneath the surface.
Even in the midst of peril the heart of the stout old merchant skipper never failed him. Immediately his ship had been torpedoed, he steered towards the distant shore, hoping against hope to beach his vessel on the iron-bound Cornish coast.
In less than ten minutes it was obvious that the attempt was in vain. The "Syntax" was settling rapidly by the bows. Already the stern was so high out of the water that the boss of the swiftly-revolving propeller was visible amidst the cascades of spray churned up by the blades.
Presently the propeller ceased to revolve. Not until the water was over the level of the engine-bed did the skipper give orders for the engine-room staff to save themselves. Up on deck they poured, hurriedly yet without undue confusion. The boats were already swung out and made ready to lower.
So sluggish was the partly-flooded vessel that she lost way rapidly. One by one the boats were lowered, and the disengaging gear of the falls cast off without a hitch. The old skipper was the last to leave. With the ship's papers thrust inside his buttoned, weather-beaten coat, he waved a salute to the destroyer that had attended the "Syntax" in vain, then slid down into one of the boats.
Before the boat had rowed a dozen lengths from the ship, the "Syntax" all but disappeared from view, boisterously, amid a series of veiled explosions as the compressed air burst from her seams. Amidst a miniature maelstrom the stern hung irresolute for a brief instant, with the red ensign still fluttering in the calm air. Then, with a quick dive, the emblem of the Mercantile Marine vanished from view.
"Shall I take you in tow?" shouted the lieutenant-commander of the "Livingstone."
"Better not, sir," replied the "old man." "That skulking submarine may be showing her snout again. Another couple of yards and I would have given her a bump. No, sir, we're all right. Sea's calm. All being well we'll land at Sennen Cove before another couple of hours.
"There's pluck," commented Gilroy. "I always had a certain respect for the Mercantile Marine, and after this, by Jove——"
Terence made no reply. He was thinking regretfully of that magnificent specimen of British construction lying fathoms deep, a victim to the brutal violation of all conventions and compacts of modern civilization.
"The swine!" ejaculated Gilroy furiously. "They know we play the game, but if I had my will, I really believe I'd ship a couple of captured German officers on board every merchantman clearing our ports."
"That wouldn't stop them, Gilroy," remarked the captain. "Not even if you had old Tirpitz's son as a figure-head. Instead of which he's living in luxury at our expense, while our officers and men are being housed like cattle. No, we must do our work with clean hands."
"Not even employ a ruse, sir?" queried Gilroy.
"That doesn't enter into the question," replied his superior officer. "As a matter of fact, I mean to have a little try on. It's hardly in accordance with Admiralty procedure, but I'll explain, and if any of you gentlemen have any objections, don't hesitate to say so."
"I am willing to take the risk, sir," declared Gilroy, after the captain had outlined his plans. "And if we succeed I don't think My Lords will give us a rap on the knuckles."
"And you, Mr. Aubyn?"
"I am of the same opinion as Mr. Gilroy, sir."
"Very good: we'll carry on," concluded the skipper of the "Livingstone."
Accordingly the destroyer returned to the rendezvous off The Start. From there she sent a wireless announcing certain engine-room defects, that might well have stood over to a more convenient time, and requested permission to put into Brixham, where the work could be carried out.
Back came the reply: "Concur. Make good defects on relief by 'Radimus'."
At ten p.m. the destroyer "Radimus" came up, and exchanged signals with the "Livingstone," which at once steamed for Brixham.
There was just enough water for the destroyer to enter the outer harbour and tie up alongside the wall. An hour later she was aground; a little later she was high and dry in the tidal harbour.
Both the captain of the "Livingstone" and Lieutenant Gilroy had ample private means, and they did not hesitate to spend money for the good of the country and the Navy in particular. So within forty minutes of the destroyer entering Brixham Harbour, the two officers, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, had concluded a bargain with a local owner for the hire of three of the weatherly trawlers for which that Devonshire port is so greatly celebrated.
At two in the morning, when Brixham slept, the crew of the "Livingstone" were hard at work, transporting stores and munitions to the three hired trawlers. By dint of great exertion one four-inch gun with its mountings was transferred to each of the trawlers and set in position just abaft the mainmast.
Directly the tide rose sufficiently, the trawlers, each containing a third of the "Livingstone's" crew, in addition to the regular hands, warped out into the Roads, hoisted sail, and with a fresh easterly breeze "reached off" towards The Start.
Thus Terence Aubyn found himself, for the first time in his career, senior executive officer of an armed vessel—the ketch "Asphodel," with a sturdy Brixham fisherman as his sailing master, and twenty bluejackets lying upon the deck.
The three trawlers maintained a "line ahead" formation, the captain of the "Livingstone" leading in the "Myrtle," Lieutenant Gilroy second in the "Cinema," and Terence as the rear-guard. To all outward appearance the unofficial flotilla was off to the fishing-grounds.
Five miles S.S.E. of the Devon promontory known as The Start, the destroyer "Radimus" crossed the bows of the trawlers, bound for Portland Bill, the eastern limit of her patrolling ground. Unsuspecting, her officer of the watch brought his glasses to bear upon the three peaceful ketches, and proceeded on his way.
Half an hour later a large auxiliary barque came ploughing her way up Channel. Although absolutely unarmed she showed no fear of the threatened submarine blockade, her red ensign proudly and unmistakably announcing the fact that she belonged to the greatest mercantile navy the world has ever yet seen.
"That rascally submarine, sir!" announced the master of the "Asphodel" to Terence, pointing to a peculiar swirl in the placid water about a mile astern of the barque, followed by the sinister-looking conning-tower and twin periscopes of the German pirate.
Doffing his regulation cap, Aubyn raised his head just above the low bulwarks and kept the submarine under observation with his telescope. Owing to the "line-ahead" formation of the trawlers, the "Asphodel" was nearest the enemy craft, which bore well on that trawler's port quarter.
The barque was helpless. Being under a full press of canvas she could not even attempt to ram her antagonist, while the wind being light, and her auxiliary engines of comparatively low horse-power, flight was out of the question.
The German submarine approached quickly and fearlessly. A survey of the horizon revealed to her captain nothing formidable in sight, only three harmless trawlers off to the fishing-ground. When he had finished with the barque, he decided, he would send two of the trawlers to the bottom, in order to let the English know that even fish was to become a scarce article of food, and let the third craft go with the crews of their sunken consorts.
It did not take the submarine long to range up on the starboard quarter of the barque. A brief argument took place between the German captain and the British merchant skipper, with the result that the latter, finding resistance useless, had the vessel hove-to.
On the deck of the submarine, just in front of the after quick-firing gun that had been raised from below and was trained on the barque, stood a steel boat lashed down and secured in chocks. In the boat's garboards were four large apertures, each capable of being closed watertight by the manipulation of a single interrupted thread screw. When open these holes allowed the boat to be emptied or flooded with great rapidity as the submarine rose or dived.
Yet for some reason the pirates made no attempt to use their own boat; they ordered the barque to lower two of hers, and with three men in each to row alongside the submarine.
It was the intention of the Germans to rifle the prize before they placed explosives on board. They were evidently short of provisions, oil, and petrol, and these were to be found in abundance upon the luckless barque. The ship's boats could be more conveniently employed upon this business, as in the case of a surprise there would be delay in hauling the steel tender on to the submarine's deck and securing it, before she could dive.
Terence watched this part of the operation with extreme annoyance. If the pirate meant to keep some of the British crew on the deck of the submarine, her destruction could not be accomplished without great risk and peril to the men of the mercantile marine. However, he decided the capture or destruction of the unknown submarine—for she had no number painted on her grey sides or conning-tower—was imperative, and acting in accordance with a prearranged plan, he gave the master of the "Asphodel" instructions to steer towards the now motionless barque, approaching on the starboard hand, while the other trawlers held steadily on their course.
It was sound strategy. The captain of the submarine evidently imagined that the trawler was approaching out of sheer curiosity, or that, seeing the barque hove-to, her master thought that the skipper of the British craft wished to communicate with the shore. Lying snugly under the port quarter of the barque, the submarine was now invisible from the trawler's deck, while the crew of the captured vessel were ordered not to give the alarm under penalty of death.
Meanwhile, the "Myrtle" and "Cinema," having crossed the barque's track, were able from a convenient distance to see what was going on.
The pirates made their captives work with the utmost dispatch, and in a very short time almost all of the barque's cargo and stores that they were in need of was transported to the submarine and stowed below.
This done, the captain was ordered to surrender his papers, but the stubborn old salt declared that he had heaved them overboard before capture. As a matter of fact they were slipped into the lining at the back of his coat. This act of non-compliance aroused the German captain's anger. Ordering the boats back to the barque, he told the skipper and crew that they had five minutes to clear out. At the expiration of that time limit, he would sink the vessel by gun-fire.
Directly the British officers on the "Myrtle" and "Cinema" saw that there were no longer any of the crew of the barque on or alongside the submarine a signal was sent to the "Asphodel." Instantly the ketch luffed up, ran under the barque's stern and came in sight, and within eighty or a hundred yards of the submarine, the crew of which were standing by their quick-firers, ready to hull and sink the prize.
"Heave-to, 'Asphodel'!" shouted the German captain in good English, as he read the name of the apparently unsuspecting trawler that had blundered right into his clutches. "Heave-to, or we'll sink you without mercy."
"Let them have it!" shouted Terence. He had no scruples now. It was a fair fight between a modern submarine, with her guns ready for action, and a trawler manned by a trained Navy crew.
Like a sheet of tissue paper caught in a furious wind the tarpaulin concealing the gun was whipped off; cool and collected the highly-trained gun-layer lingered a fraction of a second over the sights, then—crash!
Almost before the recoil of the weapon had been taken up by the hydraulic mountings the breech-block flew open with a clang and a fresh cartridge was inserted.
One round was enough.
The shell, fired at almost point-blank range, had penetrated the conning-tower, killing the captain and ripping the steel plating like cardboard. More, the fragments of the exploded missile had put out of action all the crew of the fore quick-firer.
Terrified by the appalling concussion the engine-room ratings of the submarine abandoned their posts at the motor and ran on deck, while the after-gun's-crew, realizing that they were trapped, made no attempt to use their piece, especially as they were covered by the formidable 4-inch on the "Asphodel's" deck.
With their hands held high above their heads the pirates raised a monotonous shout of "Mercy, Englishmen!"
The submarine was done for. With the conning-tower shattered she could not dive; apart from the abandonment of the motors, she could not seek safety in flight, for even if running on the surface she would quickly be swamped by the seas pouring over her low freeboard.
"Mercy, Englishmen! Mercy!"
The cry was repeated over and over again. The recreant Teutons, taken red-handed, were firmly convinced that their captors intended putting them to death—the extreme penalty for their guilt.
Terence glanced in the direction of the two trawlers. They were approaching slowly, for the wind was still light. Before the arrival of his superior officer the sub. realized that the mischief he anticipated might be consummated.
"Where is your captain?" he shouted.
The babel ceased. One German, a petty officer, knew how to speak English after a fashion.
"He kapitan Schluk he dead," he replied.
"The senior officer, then?"
There was a movement on deck. Some of the men bawled down the hatchway. After some delay a fat, fair-haired sub-lieutenant appeared. Being unable to speak or understand English the new arrival made use of the petty officer as an interpreter.
"Do I understand that you surrender?" demanded Terence.
"Yes; if our lives are spared," answered the German officer through the medium of the interpreter.
"Very good; I accept your surrender on conditions," agreed Terence, speaking deliberately, and with a stern, menacing tone in his voice. "Your craft must be given up exactly in its present condition. If any attempt be made to open the valves no quarter will be given."
It went against his sense of honour to speak in this strain. He knew perfectly well that, happen what may, quarter would not be denied these modern pirates. But experience taught him that on more than one occasion a German submarine had surrendered to a British vessel, and as soon as the crew was safe, the ballast tanks would be deliberately flooded to let the boat sink for good and all, so that the secret of their construction should not be revealed to the hated English.
Consequently he was not surprised when the German officer, on hearing the conditions, made a gesture of defiance and disappeared below. Before many seconds had passed the crippled submarine began to sink deeper and deeper in the water. The survivors of her crew, now animated by the example of their young officer, lined up, bare-headed, and joining hands burst into the words of "Deutschland uber alles." One brawny, yellow-haired man produced a German ensign lashed to a boat-hook stave, and held it defiantly aloft. It was perhaps fortunate that they did not attempt to use the still intact quick-firer, otherwise Terence might have been compelled to put his empty threat into execution.
The end was not long in coming. The slight reserve of buoyancy of the submarine was quickly destroyed by the inrush of water, both through the valves and through the huge rent in the base of the conning-tower.
The water mounted to the knees of the double line of men. Still singing they looked death in the face. Then with a sudden lurch that threw the ranks into complete disorder, the submarine plunged. "Deutschland uber alles" trailed away into a grim silence, broken by the rush of water and the hiss of escaping air.
The next instant the submarine was lost to sight, taking with her the resolute sub-lieutenant, whose devotion to the Kaiser had out-weighed his conscience in the matter of the utter disregard of international law.
There was still life to be saved. More than a score of the German crew were swimming strongly.
"Out with the boats!" shouted the master of the "Asphodel."
A dozen willing hands helped to launch the hefty boat which was stowed bottom upwards on the trawler's deck. With a loud splash she was thrust overboard and volunteers hastily tumbled into her. Already the boats of the barque were heading towards the spot marked by bobbing heads of the swimmers. The seamen knew that, but for a fortunate change of circumstances they might be swimming for dear life and jeered at by the crew of the submarine into the bargain but petty spite and recriminations are not to be found in the creed of true British seamen.
Long before the "Myrtle" and "Cinema" came up, every one of the swimmers had been rescued, and since the crew of the barque dumped their living cargoes into the "Asphodel," the latter's decks were packed with humanity. Round every half-drowned German a dozen British tars, all more or less sympathetic, were gathered, doing their utmost to assist their foes.
"Smart shot, Mr. Aubyn," sang out the captain of the "Livingstone," as his temporary command shot up into the wind within easy hailing distance. "Your gun-layer took good care not to let us have a finger in the pie."
"We acted under your orders, sir," replied Terence.
"You did," admitted the captain, with a hearty laugh. "You did, but you might have given the others a chip in. They hardly—why, what's that?"
He broke off suddenly at the sound of a terrific cheer. The barque had now gathered way. Her sails had been sheeted home. The weather shrouds were black with men who were cheering the three trawlers with all the force of their lungs, while aft stood the old skipper, waving his cap with the vivacity of a schoolboy.
Considering the unusual means whereby the German submarine had been destroyed, the necessity of keeping the incident a secret, until the Press Bureau thought fit to dole out another morsel of information, was most desirable. There was also another reason. The enemy must not know of the actual circumstances, otherwise the submarines still at large would take steps to prevent a similar surprise.
So the crews, both temporary and permanent, of the three trawlers were mustered and sworn to secrecy, their respective naval officers impressing upon the Brixham men the fact that, being an Admiralty chartered vessel (this was a piece of pure bluff) they were liable to the pains and penalties of the Naval Discipline Act, the Official Secrets Act, and a dozen other statutes passed for the safety, honour, and welfare of the King's dominions.
The next question was how to dispose of the prisoners. Gilroy proposed delaying the arrival of the trawlers till after dusk and then setting the Germans ashore under an armed guard at a remote and unfrequented cove in the vicinity of Dartmouth; but the captain overruled.
While the council of war was in progress the destroyer "Radimus," returning on her patrol work, came in sight. In answer to a signal hoisted on the "Myrtle" the destroyer altered helm and ran down to investigate.
Her officers and crew were good sportsmen all. Although chagrined to find that the German submarine had been sunk almost under their noses, and by three sailing trawlers, a type that the Admiralty persistently deprecated as being of no service in the war, they tendered their congratulations, in the spontaneous British way, by giving three rousing cheers.
To the "Radimus" the prisoners were transferred, while the captain of the "Livingstone," having drafted a report, requested the officer commanding the destroyer to forward it with all dispatch, and at the same time to send a wireless to the Admiralty announcing the bald fact that another modern pirate had been sent to its last account.
Gilroy and Terence then boarded the trawler under the command of the "Livingstone's" skipper. The latter, in spite of the success of his ruse, looked somewhat anxious. He was not quite certain what My Lords would think of the unofficial commissioning of the trawlers, and he expressed his fears to his subordinates.
"Never fear, sir," remarked the lieutenant. "We'll stand by you."
"That you will not," replied the captain. "It's my pigeon. I take the responsibility; you are under my orders."
"I don't suppose there'll be any fuss up topsides, sir," reiterated Gilroy.
"H'm! Don't know so much about that. We've attacked a hostile craft without displaying our colours: that's against the King's regulations——"
"But we've sent a far worse transgressor to the bottom, sir," interrupted Gilroy. "After all, that's the main thing."
"I suppose so," admitted his superior. "And we've done all we can to impress upon the men the urgency of official reticence and reserve."
So it happened that just before four in the afternoon the three trawlers entered Brixham Harbour, and, amidst the wild and erroneous conjectures of the inhabitants of that little Devonshire town, the naval men landed and went aboard the "Livingstone," whose engine-room staff had kept steam raised during the absence of their comrades.
Half an hour later the destroyer put to sea to resume her interrupted patrol duties.
But, somewhat unfortunately, the carefully laid plans of the skipper of the "Livingstone" went awry. The third hand of the "Myrtle" had a wife. The wife was an excellent cook and studied her man's weakness for the fleshpots of Glorious Devon. Moreover, she had a small cask of prime cider in her cottage, and Dick Ottery, the third hand, was very partial to the juice of the apple. Mrs. Ottery had a knack of extracting information from her spouse, and curiosity prompted her to question him as he fed and drank. Before the delayed meal was over, Mrs. Ottery knew as much as her husband.
At Brixham, like many other British towns, men had gone either to the Front or else to adventure themselves on the High Seas; and a committee of well-meaning ladies had volunteered to do this, that, and the other for the wives of the absent warriors.
That same evening one of the committee paid a visit to Ottery's cottage, where his sister-in-law lived since the day when her husband shouldered his kit-bag and went to report himself at Devonport as a Naval Reservist.
Mrs. Ottery, unable to keep the startling news of the sinking of the German submarine, told full details and embellished them with highly imaginative extras to the lady visitor. "Of course," she added, "it be quite a secret, my man du say."
Half an hour later the committee heard the news, also in strict confidence, with the result that when the "Livingstone" put into Portland to replenish her stock of oil-fuel the news of the exploit preceded her.
Magnified out of all proportion by the little additions it had gained in being passed from mouth to mouth, the latest version was to the effect that "the crew of H.M.T.B.D. 'Livingstone,' having been compelled to take to their boats owing to their vessel being torpedoed, were rescued by a Brixham trawler. They thereupon rammed three German submarines, sinking them with all hands."
"Absolutely without foundation," was the Press Bureau's comment, but people in the know winked solemnly. It was significant that the captain of the "Livingstone" was appointed to the command of a light-cruiser; that Lieutenant Gilroy was promoted to the rank of lieutenant-commander, and that Sub-Lieutenant Terence Aubyn, N.R., blossomed out into a lieutenant.
Possibly no one was more astonished than Terence to find himself a full-blown lieutenant. Yet it was a fact and a pleasant surprise, especially when he had misgivings as to the unorthodox method of destroying the hostile submarine.
Promotion, he knew, meant an appointment to another ship. That was the fly in the ointment, for in spite of certain discomforts that life on a destroyer brings in its train, he had become thoroughly attached to the "Livingstone."
He had hopes that his old skipper, Captain Holloway, late of the "Terrier," might use his influence in getting him appointed to the "Bombard"—a modern light-cruiser which Captain Holloway had recently commissioned, and which, according to well-founded rumours, was to proceed to the Mediterranean to take part in the operations against the Dardanelles.
It was therefore with mixed feelings that Terence found himself appointed to his old ship, the armed merchantman "Strongbow," which, having completed her extensive repairs and refit at Aberdeen, was to be recommissioned, as far as practicable, with her former officers and crew.
The newly-appointed lieutenant was sorry, since it meant being relegated to the somewhat monotonous, although necessary task of patrolling, instead of having a chance to smell powder on one of the fighting ships. Unless an unforeseen incident occurred, the possibilities of quitting the patrol service seemed very remote. The number of hostile mines in the North Sea had been steadily reduced by systematic sweeping while the German pirate submarines seemed to give the northern area of the North Sea a wide berth—possibly owing to the fact that there was more scope for the despicable energies in the Channel and in the vicinity of the great mercantile ports. Thus the element of risk that prevailed in the earlier stages of the war had been considerably diminished; henceforth, according to Aubyn's opinion, patrol work would be one long round of cruising, examining neutral vessels, and, perhaps, making a few isolated captures of ships carrying suspected contraband.
Yet it was his duty, and he accepted it in the spirit of a true British seaman: he had to obey orders even if they entailed work of a cheerless and uneventful character.
On the other hand, Terence was pleased at the thought of having to meet his former comrades. Nor would the severe climatic conditions be so intense. The days were longer and the nights correspondingly shorter, and although the temperature was low and the Equinoctial gales about due, the fact that spring was rapidly approaching was in itself sufficient compensation for the passing rigours of patrol work in the North Sea.
The lieutenant had two clear days before rejoining the "Strongbow," which had left Aberdeen and put into Leith to replenish magazines and bunkers. Owing to the dislocation of the train service through the moving of large numbers of troops from the North to Salisbury Plain, Terence knew that it would be unwise to delay his journey. He therefore decided to proceed straight to Edinburgh, put up for the night, and go on to Leith on the following morning.
Arriving in London he seized the chance of visiting a theatre in company with some friends, knowing that it might be months before a similar opportunity occurred again; then, having had supper, he caught the night mail train to the north.
There were comparatively few passengers. The lieutenant, finding that he had a first-class carriage to himself, thought it best to spend the tedious journey by snatching a few hours' sleep.
Accustomed to slumber under awkward conditions he was soon lost in oblivion. How long he slept he had no idea. Suddenly he was awakened by the hurried application of the brakes. The train slowed down so quickly that the alteration of momentum wellnigh threw him off the seat. He glanced at his watch. It was ten minutes past two. Under ordinary circumstances the journey was a non-stop one, the mails being dropped or taken up by means of nets while the train was in motion.
Curiosity prompted Terence to open the window and look out. It was a pitch dark night. Rain was falling in a steady drizzle. The lamps in the carriages had been screened by drawing the blinds, as a precaution against hostile air-raids, but in many cases the passengers had rushed to the windows. Thus the glare of the lamps showed the lieutenant that the train had come to a standstill in a rocky cutting.
"Rotten night," commented Aubyn to himself.
He looked along the line. The signals were not set at danger, for a hundred yards ahead of the engine a bright green light gleamed through the mirk.
"What's up, guard?" asked Terence, as that official, followed by two or three passengers, walked briskly along the permanent way. Already he had gone to the front part of the train to confer with the driver, and was now on his way back.
"Man killed or something," replied the guard vaguely. "A soldier stopped the train—one of them chaps guarding the tunnel. You're not a doctor, by any chance, sir? We had half a dozen ships' doctors in the train last night."
"I am not," replied Terence. "But I'll go with you, in case I can be of any use."
Buttoning his great-coat up to his chin and pulling the peak of his cap well over his eyes, the lieutenant descended and joined the little band of volunteer helpers.
The rear end of the train was only just clear of the tunnel, so promptly had the driver brought the engine to a standstill. Lying by the side of the rail was a motionless figure in khaki, while standing by him and still grasping his rifle and bayonet was another soldier.
"No doctor, my man," declared the guard. "I've inquired of every carriage. How did it happen? We didn't run over your mate, did we?"
"No," replied the Tommy, an elderly National Reservist. He was shaking like a leaf. "No, it was that goods train. Cut his foot off as clean as a bloomin' whistle. But that ain't the point. Poor old Bill was put across the metals, only the bloke didn't do the job properly."
"What?" exclaimed the guard incredulously.
"Truth—honest truth—an' my eyesight ain't at fault, even though it's a beastly dark night. Bill was standin' easy over there. I was about here. S'elp me, as true as I'm a-standin' here, I saw a bloke spring upon my chum and push him across the line. Afore I could up with my rifle the train comes tearing along. When it had gone it was too late. The bloke had done a bunk. And," he added reminiscently, "Bill was a right good sort. Never had a grudge against nobody, so it licks me why the fellow wanted to out him."
Meanwhile, Terence had been paying attention to the unfortunate sentry. The man was dead. His left foot had been severed at the ankle. That in itself would hardly be sufficient to cause death.
"Turn your light this way, guard," said Aubyn, as he began to unbuckle the man's ammunition pouches and to unbutton his coat. A thin streak of blood upon the victim's shirt told its own tale. He had been shot—evidently by a small yet powerful pistol at close range, for the great-coat and buff straps were pitted with the grains of powder.
"Did you hear a shot fired?" demanded Terence.
"No, sir," replied the Tommy. The suggestion of a shot being fired aroused a new train of ideas in his mind. "No, sir; see, his rifle hasn't been discharged."
"I mean, did you hear a shot being fired at him?"
The sentry shook his head.
"The man's been murdered by a pistol shot, right enough," declared Terence. "Either the noise of the train deadened the report, or else the murderer muffled the weapon in a cloth. The best thing you can do, guard, is to take the poor fellow's body on to the next station."
"An my relief ain't due for another hour and a quarter!" gasped the remaining sentry. He had been completely unnerved at the sight of his chum being foully done to death.
"All right, my man," said Terence, "I'll stop with you. I suppose I can get to Edinburgh by another train, guard?"
"Yes, sir," replied that official. "Next station's only a matter of three or four miles. But you won't be lonely. There's half a dozen troop trains on the up-line within the next three hours. I'll take the corpse, sir, if these gents'll bear a hand. 'Tain't the first poor chap that's been done in like this: not by a long way. Good-night, sir, and good luck."
Presently the mail train resumed its journey. The sentry, nervously fingering his rifle, seemed grateful to the young officer, but at the same time he regarded him with a certain amount of suspicion. Perhaps his naval uniform was a disguise. He might be an accomplice of the man who had murdered his chum. Troop trains? That started a fresh chain of surmises. This dastardly act might be that of a spy, intent upon damaging the tunnel and wrecking the crowded trains.
"Look here, my man," said the lieutenant, "are you game to going and standing where your chum was posted?"
"What for, sir?" asked the soldier, with obvious reluctance at the suggestion.
"Oh, never mind. I'll go. You remain here. If you see or hear anything suspicious, don't hesitate—shoot. You're a fairly good shot, I hope?"
"Don't know about that, sir; I feel all of a tremble."
"Then fire anywhere, as long as you don't wing me. I want you to prop yourself between these two rocks and keep as quiet as you possibly can. Don't let yourself be seen. I'll take your chum's rifle. If you hear me fire, hop across the line as sharp as you can, with your bayonet at the charge. Buck up, man, and keep your nerves."
Having seen the sentry take up the position indicated—in a niche formed by two large boulders in the side of the cutting—Terence secured the rifle and bayonet of the dead man. The rifle was a magazineless '303, with Martini action, similar to those issued to troops engaged in home defence.
Donning the pouches of the unfortunate sentry, the lieutenant took out a cartridge, inserted it into the breech and closed the breech-block. Then, having ascertained by touch that the back-sight was down, he crossed the line and commenced to walk the murdered sentry's beat.
In the darkness his naval cap and great-coat were not to be distinguished from those of the man he was impersonating. He felt certain that should the crime have been committed by a German agent, the reason was the destruction of the tunnel. When the mail train stopped, the miscreant would certainly betake himself to a safe distance; but with his work uncompleted, he would almost certainly return. He had marked the time when the two sentries were posted he knew when their reliefs were expected. Before that time he must render the second sentry incapable of raising an alarm and then proceed with the blocking of the line.
In his operations the spy had made one serious blunder. He had shot the sentry, as had been surmised, and had thrown his body on the line in front of the goods train, so that it would be taken for granted that the luckless man had been knocked down while incautiously walking his beat. But instead of the train mangling the victim's body and thus destroying all traces of the fatal shot, the wheels had only severed one of the unfortunate man's feet.
For half an hour Terence maintained his sentry-go. The rain was now falling heavily. His great-coat felt as weighty as lead. The moisture dropped from the peak of his cap and filled the palm of his left hand as he held the butt of his rifle.
The sub.'s nerves were in splendid condition. The hand that held the rifle was as steady as a rock. With eyes and ears strained he paced to and fro, prepared at the least sound to face about, bring his rifle to the ready and fire.
From a strategic point of view his position was an unsound one. By the remaining sentry's description the miscreant must have retired from the scene of action not by running into the tunnel but by scaling the fairly accessible wall of rock. Consequently the anticipated attack would be from that direction, and Terence was liable to be fired at from a height of from ten to fifty feet above his head.
Presently a dull but increasing rumble greeted his ears. It was a local down-train, which had just entered the far end of the tunnel. Instead of grounding the butt of his rifle and facing the line, as he had seen other sentries do, the lieutenant marched to the mouth of the tunnel; then, leaning his shoulder hard against the massive stone buttress, waited for the train to pass.
A vivid flame spurted from the opposite side of the cutting, followed practically simultaneously by a sharp report that outvoiced the roar of the train. The sentry, without waiting to challenge, had "let rip."
Bringing his rifle to the ready, Terence waited. He had not long to wait. Silhouetted against the gloomy rain-laden sky—for by this time Terence's eyes were used to the darkness—appeared the head, arms and shoulders of a man. In his right hand he held an automatic pistol, and was now blazing away indiscriminately, judging by the splash of flame that stabbed the night in varying directions. He seemed to be leaning over a rock in the side of the cutting with the intention, now that he had been fired upon, to get at close quarters with the sentry.
Bringing his rifle to his shoulder Terence aimed low and pressed the trigger. The fellow gave no convulsive spring; he merely toppled over and fell on the permanent way just as the train emerged, with a rush and a roar and a dense cloud of steam, from the tunnel.
Jerking the lever of his breech-block, the lieutenant inserted a fresh cartridge. He still kept close to the buttress, even after the train had passed. Experience had taught him the necessity for caution in dealing with a wily foe. Not that he feared anything from the man who had been shot. His headlong tumble down the almost precipitous side of the cutting was too realistic for a person shamming death.
The soldier, emerging from his shelter, began to cross the line. Before he was half-way across, another shot rang out from the top of the cutting. The Tommy collapsed in a heap.
Terence let him lie. His whole attention was centred upon the spot from whence the last bullet had sped. With his rifle ready to be lifted to his shoulder, Aubyn waited like a hunter stalking his prey.
He knew that he would not have to wait long. A desperate attempt was being made to destroy the tunnel—an attempt in which the lives of two or more men mattered but little provided success attended the miscreants' efforts. The firer of the last shot, he reasoned, imagined that with the murder of the first sentry, he had only one man to deal with, and now he was lying motionless on the ballast. Thinking that "the coast was clear" the desperado would presently show himself.
A hunched-up shape appeared at the top of the embankment. Some one was descending with his face towards the rock. He was progressing slowly and cautiously, making certain that he had obtained a firm foothold before he groped for a lower one. Every now and then he would turn his head and look towards the doubled-up body of the sentry, till, satisfied that there was no danger in that direction, he gave his whole attention to his descent.
Levelling his rifle, Terence took deliberate aim. He had no qualms in so doing. The fellow was a murderer and train-wrecker, and undoubtedly an agent of the German Government. The lieutenant was alone and unsupported. If he should be "done in" there would be no further obstacle between the miscreant and the success of his diabolical scheme. Besides, there might be more than two men engaged in the enterprise, which, if it matured, might mean the death of perhaps hundreds of human beings.
Terence aimed fairly in the centre of the climber's back. It afforded the best target in the darkness.
With no more compunction than if he were shooting a rat, the lieutenant pressed the trigger.
The report of the rifle was outvoiced by a loud detonation, accompanied by a vivid flash. For one moment Terence stood stock still, his eyes temporarily blinded by the sudden glare. Then he realized that his cap had gone. His face was wet, not with the chilly rain but with a warm moisture. Something had struck him on the cheek, inflicting a small cut from which the blood flowed freely.
"A pretty rumpus!" he soliloquized. "The rotter has plugged me—no, it can't be that. It's only a slight gash. I wonder if he hurled a bomb."
"Blowed to atoms, sir; that's what's happened to him—the blighter!" exclaimed a voice that seemed to come from the ground.
"I thought you were a dead man, by Jove!" exclaimed Terence bluntly, as he recognized the sentry by his voice.
"Not yet, sir," replied the man. "He put a bullet through my leg—just above the knee. It don't hurt much, but it kippered me, so I thought I'd lie low and see what happened. I'd a cartridge ready, though, in case of an accident."
"We ought to stop the next train," said Terence, as he stooped to recover his cap. "The rail might be damaged. I think that fellow had a few detonators on him, and my shot did the trick. How did you stop the train I was in?"
"Had a lantern, sir. It's somewhere along the line. But our chaps must have heard the racket, an the sergeant'll be coming along in half a tick."
"Wind the wrong way," declared Terence laconically. "I'll bandage that leg of yours and then I'll get the lantern."
The miscreant's bullet—from a small calibre high velocity pistol—had passed completely through the soldier's leg, fortunately without severing any arteries. Having attended to the wound and bidden the man sit down by the side of the bank, Aubyn set out on his search.
It was a fruitless quest. Other means had to be found to bring the troop train to a standstill.
"There's a signal a couple of hundred yards down the line, sir," announced the sentry. "It's worked from a box a long way off. Maybe, sir, you can climb up and tie this red handkerchief of mine over the green light."
Terence took the handkerchief. He knew that the plan was a useless one, since the result would be a semi-opaque gleam, as the red would neutralize the green. But the red cloth might come in handy. The matter was urgent, for the train was about due.
As he passed along the up-line his progress was checked by an enormous boulder that, dislodged by the explosion, had fallen on the permanent way and across one of the metals. Its weight was far beyond his strength to move.
Skirting the obstruction the lieutenant broke into a run, keeping up a hot pace till he reached the foot of the signal post. Already the red disc had changed to green, showing that, to the signalman's belief, the line was clear.
Terence knew that if the operating rod could be severed the signal arm would, by reason of a weighted lever, rise to the "stop" position. He tugged savagely at it, but without success. A spanner might have saved the situation, but he was without such an article.
Suddenly an idea flashed through his mind. Ascending the swaying ladder, he gained the platform just below the arm. Here he could reach the discs with comparative ease.
"Wind's right direction," he muttered. "Can't blow the light out very well, so here goes."
Unlacing and pulling off his boot, Terence made a determined onslaught upon the thick green glass. It stoutly resisted several blows, cracking at the sixth and shivering out of its frame at the two next. As the lieutenant had foreseen the now open space was away from the wind, and beyond a slight unsteadiness the lamp burned well.
Knotting the red handkerchief across the open disc, Terence descended to take a more remote view of his handiwork. The red light shone sufficiently bright to be observed at a considerable distance, but as a matter of precaution he held his rifle ready to fire into the air to attract the attention of the driver of the on-coming troop train.
"Here she comes," exclaimed Terence, as a dull rumble could be heard in the distance. Presently a cloud of flame-tinged smoke announced that the engine had rounded the curve.
Terence raised his rifle, but there was no need to fire. With a loud grinding of brakes, accompanied by showers of sparks, the train drew up, the engine coming to a standstill within eighty yards of the signal post.
"What's up now, mate?" demanded the engine-driver, as, leaning over the side of the "cab" he saw what he imagined to be one of the soldiers whom he knew to be stationed on either side of the tunnel.
"Line blocked," replied Terence. "And what's more, two men killed and another injured."
Leaving the driver to act for himself, Terence passed along the row of stationary carriages, filled with troops, who, for the most part, were singing uproariously. A few were looking out of the windows, but the pulling up of the train had aroused but little curiosity. They were already too used to being held up on sidings, even in the course of a comparatively short journey.
At the first first-class carriage he came to, Terence clambered on to the foot-board and opened the door. Within were a couple of majors, a captain and a lieutenant enjoying a hand of cards. Briefly Aubyn told them of what had occurred, and suggested that an investigation should be made of the victims while the line was being cleared.
"Good idea, by Jove!" exclaimed the senior field-officer.
Alighting, he blew a whistle. The uproar ceased as if by magic, and the men began to descend from the train. For the most part they imagined that a Zeppelin had been sighted. They treated the possibility almost with indifference, but their interest was quickly excited when they learned that an attempt had been made to derail or blow up the train.
Accompanied by several of the officers, and escorted by the driver and the guard of the train and a score of soldiers, Terence led the way. The obstruction had, fortunately, not fractured either the rail or the chairs. By the aid of plenty of willing helpers, the rock was levered back into a shallow ditch at the foot of the cutting. Then there was just room for the train to pass, for the stone was nearly ten feet in circumference.
"Here's the sentry," announced Terence, indicating the wounded soldier.
A number of men carried the luckless Tommy into one of the carriages, where he was promptly attended to by a captain of the R.A.M.C., while it was decided to detail two of the men from the troop train to mount guard until the proper reliefs arrived. Meanwhile, the wounded man could be taken to the nearest station, close to which was a hospital where he could be well looked after.
By this time there was light in plenty. Terence had no idea that a train carried so many lamps.
The next task was to look for the bodies of the two miscreants. That of the first was discovered in a ditch. He had been shot through the forehead and through the body, either wound being sufficient to cause death.
The explanation was simple: one of the wounds had been caused by the bullet from the sentry's rifle. The victim in his death agonies had convulsively gripped the trigger of his automatic pistol, and thus had caused the fusillade Terence had seen and heard. When he fired, the lieutenant's bullet had also struck the fellow, but by that time he was already a corpse.
A further search revealed a considerable cavity blown into the side of the embankment. The rocks around were scorched by the heat of the explosion, which had horribly mangled the corpse of the second conspirator, although strangely enough his features were hardly injured.
A light was flashed upon his face. Terence recognized it instantly. It was that of Major von Eckenhardt, master-spy and desperate plotter.
The rascal had met with his deserts. After his escape from Edinburgh Castle he had, according to his usual practice, laid low for a time. Then, owing to the adroit manner in which the authorities had made use of his secret wireless installation, the German Admiralty found itself landed into a very awkward situation on more than one occasion. It was not until von Eckenhardt contrived to send a secret message to his employers, explaining the reason for his failure, that the German authorities realized that they had been tricked. In reply came a message savouring of a reprimand. Von Eckenhardt ought, it said, to have taken greater precautions to prevent such eventualities. Finally the message hinted pretty broadly that an act of signal service to the Fatherland would alone atone for the blunders that the spy had made.
Von Eckenhardt was desperate. He knew that the German Secret Service had no mercy for its servants who had failed. Indeed, he wondered why he had been given another chance. By the implied tone of the communication he realized that he had to undertake a "forlorn hope." If successful, then, perhaps, he might be reinstated into favour; otherwise it would be preferable to die rather than face the penalty for failure.
Hitherto, he had been more or less a director of the spy system. With the exception, perhaps, of the part he played in attempting to wreck the "Saraband," he had kept aloof from the actual espionage work. Now, he decided he must employ his energies in a direct attack upon the resources of the British Empire.
The news of forthcoming movements on a large scale of troops from the North of England and Salisbury Plain suggested the great possibility of a striking example of German "frightfulness." He knew that the bridges and tunnels would be slenderly guarded, for the precautions adopted by the British Government at the commencement of hostilities had slackened.
Accordingly, accompanied by an accomplice who had acted the part of servant at Tuilabrail Hall, he motored to a town within a few miles of the tunnel he had selected for his nefarious designs. It was a simple matter to bluff the proprietor of their hotel, while to excuse their late hours, von Eckenhardt resolved to send a wire from a place twenty miles distant, announcing the breakdown of the car. Then, returning to within half a mile of the tunnel, the two miscreants left the car in a field and walked stealthily towards the scene of their proposed operations.
"Time I was out of this," thought Terence. He had no desire to be dragged into a long-winded coroner's inquest and the subsequent official inquiries. His evidence would not alter matters in the faintest degree. Von Eckenhardt would be identified without his help, and publicity he shrank from.
No one attempted to question the lieutenant as to his name. In the excitement such a procedure never entered the heads of the military authorities. So, without attracting the least attention, Terence walked quietly away, scaled the embankment, crossed a couple of ploughed fields and struck a roadway.
It was growing light as he entered the town. At a drinking fountain he washed the dried blood from his face, and having brushed the mud from his uniform, made his way to the railway station.
Here, exciting little attention, he obtained a ticket to York; had breakfast at the station, and boarded the next express to Edinburgh. For the time being, at least, he had evaded the consequences of having performed another duty for King and country.