CHAPTER XXV.MAX HILLIGER'S SATISFACTION.Max Hilliger's declaration that he would not be satisfied until Lieutenant Hermann Körner and he had put a torpedo into a British battleship was not long in being fulfilled.How they discovered that such a ship was to be found in a particular position on the North Sea at a particular time is a matter which cannot be explained. It is certain that the Germans succeeded in discovering many of the movements and intended movements of the British Fleet which were believed to be secret, and of which even many highly-placed British naval officers were profoundly ignorant. Doubtless their spy system and their methods of communication were perfectly well organised and established long before the outbreak of war.By whatsoever means he received his information, Lieutenant Körner expected the squadron to pass southward, and he prepared to carry out his instructions by bringing his submarine within striking distance at the anticipated moment.It was a wild, dark winter's night, bitterly cold, with a fierce wind blowing from the north-east. Submarines are not commonly supposed to be of great use in the darkness; their periscopes are then blind. But Körner boldly kept the U50 on the surface, trusting to the high waves to hide her betraying conning-tower from watchful eyes and from the beams of searchlights.But as an additional measure of protection and deception he had hoisted a pair of brown lugsails on her two temporary masts, so that from a distance she might have the appearance of an innocent fishing boat. This ruse was a development and improvement of Max Hilliger's idea of concealing a submarine within the body of a larger boat.Hour after weary hour went by; but no light, no steamer's smoke; could be seen through the inky darkness. Still he waited, while the submarine rocked and tossed and rolled on the giant waves, and the wind shrieked angrily.Towards midnight a tiny masthead light blinked fitfully through the curtain of driving sleet."They come!" said Körner from his post in the conning-tower. He had seen a green starboard light gleam wanly against an approaching vessel's black hull."It is only a fishing trawler making for home," Max Hilliger declared with a shiver. "Let us submerge and get out of the cold and wet.""Not yet, not yet," returned Körner. "They will surely come. We are in their track. They cannot have turned back. Our own battleships could weather a worse storm than this, and so could they. Whatever else the cowardly English are afraid of, they are not afraid of the sea. I believe the blood in their veins is made of salt water. If you are cold, my friend, go below and warm yourself. Already it is a long time since you had supper."Max crept below like a dog into its kennel and took some food and a drink of hot coffee in the warmth of the engine-room. The warmth made him sleepy, and he did not return to the conning-tower until he was called.Körner and the quarter-master were at their posts. From their point of observation they had seen the black shapes of an advancing squadron of battleships, light cruisers, and torpedo-boat destroyers. They could be British only, since no German warship larger than a destroyer was permitted to put to sea. No lights were displayed, but a reflected glow from the furnaces mingled with the smoke rising from the blackness of the funnels, and the wash of spray as the vessels cut through the water showed whiter than the whiteness of the breaking waves.The German seamen were at their quarters, the officers at the control stations, the engineers at work with the petrol motors, the gunners at the air-compressors for charging the torpedo tubes. All was quiet but for the ceaseless rattle of cranks and pistons and the whining of well-oiled wheels. The submarine was manoeuvred round as if to cross the bows of the British ships.A couple of the destroyers went past, then a light cruiser. Next came the towering bulk of a Dreadnought, looming out of the darkness. Sparks of fire floated amid the thick volume of coal smoke from her foremost funnel; a shaft of light came through an open doorway on her high bridge."I believe it's theTriumphant!" said Max Hilliger, at the lieutenant's elbow.It was at a point forward of the bridge, on the starboard side, that the torpedo was aimed. There was no possibility of its missing so huge a target. But to make certain of hitting a vital part well below the armoured belt a second torpedo was to be fired, and then the submarine would submerge and make good her escape.On board theTriumphantthe larger number of her officers and crew of nearly eight hundred men were below asleep when the fearful crash came. Hammocks and bunks were jerked up by the shock. The torpedo had missed the magazine by a few feet, but it burst through the stout plates, entering the dynamo-room, and all electricity, both for lighting and for wireless instruments, was shut off. The great ship at once listed over, and the order was given: "All hands on the upper deck."Two minutes after the first alarm, word was sent up from the engine-room to the captain on the bridge that flooding had begun in the boiler-room, and that no more steam could be got up. There could be no hope of running her towards land and beaching her. It was seen from the first that she could not be saved.The engines were stopped and the engineers and stokers were ordered up on deck. They were scrambling up the ladders when the second torpedo struck her. Distress signals were fired, but her consorts were advised to stand off at a safe distance in case of a further attack.For want of steam to work the hoists the boats had to be got clear by reeving a big rope round the deck and hauling upon it. With perfect discipline the men performed this difficult operation in total darkness while the sinking ship was being washed by mountainous waves.All woodwork that could be seized upon and everything that would float was brought on deck for the men to cling to. They waited, hoping that the watertight compartments would keep her afloat until daylight; but at length the captain sang out:"Into the water with you; she's going!"Then it was a matter of every man for himself. Some reached the boats before the ship went down, some were drawn under by the suction; many were picked up by one of the cruisers; but of all the ship's company not more than two hundred came to land in safety, and even these, scantily clothed, had suffered terribly from exposure in the open boats.CHAPTER XXVI.THE GUIDING LIGHT.The municipal authorities in Haddisport had for a long time past displayed great vigilance in keeping the town dark at night. The street lamps were not lighted; shopkeepers incurred penalties if they failed to keep their premises so dimly lighted that you could not distinguish the difference between butter and cheese; the tramway cars were muffled in thick curtains; on the sea-front you were liable to reprimand if you struck a match to light your pipe.Most of the houses were lighted by electricity, and it was recognised that in the event of an imminent raid upon the town by German airships the electricity should be turned off at the power-house, where a screeching hooter would be sounded to warn the inhabitants to take cover in their basements or their garden trenches.Many of the occupants of houses facing the sea abandoned their front rooms after sunset. Even the thickest of curtains and blinds and the most cunning lamp-shades were not always proof against some chink or slit revealing the light within, and then there was sure to be an alarming visit from the sentries patrolling the beach or the policeman on his beat, or Sea Scouts on watch duty."I should say the Germans had something else to do than cross the North Sea in their Zeppelins to drop bombs on a harmless town like Haddisport," remarked Vera Redisham, one night at supper."They might do it for the sake of spreading panic," observed her mother."Or by way of preliminary experiment before making an air raid in force upon London," added Mark. "That's what they're planning, of course. They'd consider it as good as a naval victory if they could set London on fire. Hullo! what's wrong with the electric light? I put new bulbs on only yesterday!"The light flickered for a moment or two and then went out, plunging the room in darkness."The hooter's sounding!" cried Vera. "Listen!""We'd better all get down into the basement," recommended Mrs. Redisham. "You mustn't go outside, Mark."She had hardly spoken when the whole house shook, the windows rattled, and the air was split by a resounding explosion."Ah!" shouted Mark. "Zeppelins! Zeppelins!"Mrs. Redisham made her way down the stairs to the basement to get the servants into a place of safety.A second bomb sounded, and then there came the firing of an anti-aircraft gun.Mark ran up the staircase to the half landing where there was a window above the hall door, from which he could look out in the direction of the town. His sister Vera followed him."We're as safe here as anywhere else," she said in excuse for her presence. "Can you see anything?""I saw a flash just now," Mark answered. "I believe it was the Zeppelin's searchlight. Oo! did you hear that! It must have struck some building. What's that glow of light over there? They've set some place on fire!"He afterwards learnt that an incendiary bomb, aimed at the naval signal station, had fallen in a timber yard and set the stacks of wood in flames.Vera counted ten explosions in all. Then the bomb-dropping ceased."They haven't stopped long," she sighed in relief. "I do hope nobody has been hurt. What are you looking at? Can you see the airship?""Yes. It's like a big sausage high up in the air, just over St. Nicholas' Church. Have a look!"Mark moved aside to make room for Vera."I see it! I see it!" she cried. "And, oh, Mark, it's chasing a motor-car!"Mark peered out into the darkness and saw the brilliantly-lighted lamp of a motor flashing along the Buremouth road. The beam of the light was shed upward. The car was travelling at a tremendous pace."Chasing it?" said Mark. "I don't think it's a chase. That car is acting as a pilot—showing the airship which way to go, and where to drop its bombs! I shouldn't wonder in the least if the man driving it were Heinrich Hilliger!"CHAPTER XXVII.SURVIVORS.As the motor-car, with its flaring headlight, went out of sight beyond the projection of the window from which they had watched it, Mark and Vera Redisham ran farther up the staircase and along the passage to Rodney's room, on the north side of the house.Mark crossed to the large door-window and flung it open. It led out to a roofed balcony overlooking the garden. Rodney had used this balcony as a study, from which he could watch the ships, pretending that it was an admiral's gallery at the stern of a line-of-battle ship. On summer nights he had had a hammock slung across from side to side and had slept in the open air.Mark caught at the balcony rail now, and bent forward, looking up into the night sky, searching for the Zeppelin by the purring of its machinery."There it is! There it is!" he cried. And taking hold of Vera's arm he drew her to him and pointed.Even though it was very high, the airship looked large. It was not travelling quickly; it seemed for a time to be hovering like a hawk. Against the blue darkness of the sky the two cars could be distinguished beneath the cigar-shaped structure. The rattling noise of the engines and the hum of the propellers could be clearly heard."It's queer to think that there are Germans in it," said Vera, "and that they're there with the intention of killing people! I suppose they're going to Buremouth now, after dropping their horrid fire-bombs on Haddisport.""Look!" exclaimed Mark. "There's that motor-car again! I'm almost certain it's acting as a pilot. See how the headlight is turned upward into the sky, so that the airmen can see it! I ought to go downstairs and telephone to the Buremouth police. Hullo!"He had seen and heard a second motor-car, dashing along the nearer Alderwick road, followed by a couple of motor-bicycles. Presently there was an upward spurt of fire from the car and the crackle of a machine-gun."They're firing up at the Zeppelin!" cried Vera. "Oh, I hope they'll hit it!"A thin streak of brilliant light flashed downward from the airship. Something seemed to fall with a thud, a dull explosion, and immediately there was a blaze of fire in the midst of the withered gorse and brambles about a mile in front of the armoured motor-car."They've dropped an incendiary bomb," Mark explained, "but nowhere near the road. The car can get past."The firing from the anti-aircraft gun continued; but soon the Zeppelin steered round and went westward over the land, and the armoured car dropped out of range. More bombs were launched; but they fell harmlessly in ploughed fields where there were no houses. The pilot car by this time had disappeared.The military car was returning, led by the motor cyclists. Just as the latter emerged from the woodland on the near side of Alderwick village, the Zeppelin again turned towards the sea and sailed outward immediately above the machine-gun, which again opened fire with a prolonged stream of bullets."I believe our men have hit it!" Mark declared. "Look at that long jet of smoke! And the whole thing is wobbling like a winged pheasant."Whether the airship was struck or not, neither Mark nor the men in the armoured car could tell with certainty. They watched the ponderous vessel flying out to sea until it faded from sight, mingling with the blackness of a heavy cloud in the far east. Going downstairs again, Mark telephoned to the naval base and got into communication with Mr. Bilverstone, from whom he learnt that the worst material damage done by the bombs was at a timberyard near the harbour. Some big stacks of timber had been set on fire, and a company of Territorials were helping the seamen of H.M.S.Kingfisherin the work of subduing the flames.So far as Mr. Bilverstone had yet heard, no one had been seriously injured. Two horses had been killed at the railway goods station, and a great many window-panes had been smashed.News had been received, however, that there had been a second Zeppelin. The pair of them had come across the North Sea in company until land had been sighted, when they had separated, one coming to Haddisport, the other making a much wider circuit, dropping both explosive and incendiary bombs on three coast towns in succession.Late on the following afternoon, Mark Redisham and Darby Catchpole were at the naval base, waiting for instructions, when a flotilla of mine-sweepers came into the harbour. One of them was theMignonette. As she came alongside the quay, Mark and Darby saw two very bedraggled young men in shabby naval uniform standing with the skipper abaft the wheel-house."They look like German prisoners," Mark said below his breath."They've been in the water," added Darby, "picked up from a sinking submarine, I dare say. There's Ned Quester. Let's ask him about them."Ned was climbing along the port bulwark, dragging the end of a heavy mooring-rope. Having secured it round a bollard, he turned and saw the two Sea Scouts."See those two chaps down there?" he began. "They're Deutschers. They look rather sad, don't they? We rescued them early this morning, this side of the Dogger. Just before dawn, we saw two rockets go up—a red and a blue. We made for the place, thinking it was a vessel in distress. So it was, but not the sort of vessel we expected. It looked like an immense dead whale, seen in the dim light. When we got nearer we were still puzzled by the shape of it, and could only guess that it was a wrecked airship.""What?" cried Mark Redisham, "a Zeppelin?—the Zeppelin that was over Haddisport last night, dropping bombs? Then the anti-aircraft gun must have hit it, after all!""That's right," nodded Ned. "Major Proudfynski—that's the older of the two, who speaks English, of a sort—told us that they had done heaps of damage, and killed he didn't know how many people, and that a whole battery of artillery had fired up at them. Of course, we knew he was exaggerating. However, when we got out the boat and pulled alongside the thing, we knew it could only be a Zep that had come to grief. One of the propellers was above water. We could see some of the bent and tangled framework, supported by a section of the still inflated gas-bag. Afterwards we fired a shot into it, letting the gas escape, and then the wreckage went down. But before that, we'd seen these two chaps clinging to the framework, and we got them off and took them aboard theMignonette. They were so exhausted by the exposure that they couldn't speak, and the younger one had to be worked at for a long time before he came to his senses.""But there must have been a whole crowd of others," said Mark. "Those Zeps have a crew of thirty or forty at least.""Yes, I know," returned Ned. "The rest were all drowned under the wreckage. These two had the sense to jump out when she was falling and get clear of the stays. They could swim. What puzzled our skipper was how they managed to send up the two rockets. But it seems the airship fell by the bow with her stern sticking up above water for a time, and the major got into one of the gondolas, where there was a box of rockets and things—matches, as well, I suppose."Officers from the naval station had come to the edge of the wharf. One of them spoke to the Germans, asking them to come ashore."What are you going to do with us?" questioned the elder of the two."Oh, you'll be all right!" he was told. "You are prisoners; but that doesn't mean that you will be ill-treated.""Prisoners?""Yes. You don't imagine that we are going to let you go back to Germany, do you? Not after what you did last night. You came across to England to pay us a visit; why should you hurry away? We'll show you what it's like to live in a civilised country."An escort of armed bluejackets had been drawn up on the quay. The two prisoners were conducted to the base, where they were questioned briefly before being given the honours of war and taken to the hotel. After they had had a good dinner they were sent, still under escort, by a special train, to a destination far removed from the unfriendly sea.CHAPTER XXVIII.THE WAY TO CALAIS.Darby Catchpole was with Mark Redisham now for a particular reason. He had lately joined the Royal Naval Reserve, and had been appointed a signal-boy for duty on one of the mine-sweepers. In order that he might gain some experience of the work, however, he was to go for a preliminary trip with Commodore Snowling on theDainty, which was to steam out to sea at sundown."I only hope we shall be going somewhere in sight of our Dreadnoughts," he said to Mark, while they waited on the wharf for the skipper. "I should love to see a naval action.""Not much chance of that," Mark told him. "We shall not see an enemy ship of any sort—except possibly a submarine. I dare say we shall only be on ordinary patrol duty, steaming to and fro along the coasts like soldiers on sentry-go. It isn't always exciting. We don't have an adventure every trip, unless you call it an adventure to have a green sea come over you, or to have your clothes frozen like iron plates on your back. Sometimes it's exceedingly uncomfortable and monotonous. I hope you've brought some books to read. Your kit bag looks pretty full.""It's full of eatables, mostly," Darby answered. "Mother has the idea that mine-sweepers go out with no provisions aboard.""Here comes our old man," Mark intimated, seeing Harry Snowling approaching from the direction of the naval base, where he had been to receive his sailing orders."He's got some new charts under his arm; so I suppose we're bound to some place where we've never been before. I hope it's not up north to the Orkneys or Shetlands. We had our share of storms and snow when we went through the Pentland Firth."The two Sea Scouts saluted their skipper as he came swinging along with an empty pipe in his mouth."Right you are, bors," he said cheerily. "Lay aboard and cast off."When they had cleared the harbour and were out in the blue water, Mark took his trick at the steering-wheel. The course given him was E.S.E., but after a while it was changed to south-east, the change being indicated to the three trawlers that were following by signals from the syren."Dessay you're a-wonderin' where we're goin', bor?" said the skipper, glancing into Mark's face, which was lighted by the dim glow from the binnacle. "And so am I. But we're a-sailin' under sealed orders this trip, and shan't know till the stroke of midnight."At midnight Mark and Darby were both in their bunks, and they saw the skipper come below, seat himself under the hanging lamp, break open a sealed envelope, and take out a slip of typewritten paper."Um!" murmured the skipper, "dunno as how they need have kep' it a secret. Seems to me they keeps things secret just for the fun of it, sometimes—same as our Sally. You c'n goo to sleep, bors," he added, glancing towards the bunks.He stood up, and, quitting the cabin, went on deck, leaving the slip of paper on the flap-table, knowing that neither of the boys would look at it. He had implicit trust in them.From the engine-room came the tinkle of the telegraph, the syren was blown, the engines stopped, and then there came the grunting of the winch and the noisy rattle of the anchor chain through the hawse hole."We're anchored for the night," said Mark, turning over on his pillow.TheDaintywas still at anchor in the early morning when the two Scouts jumped out of their bunks and climbed up on deck in their pyjamas, with towels round their necks. They opened the side gangway and put out the ladder, then stripped and dived off into the cold, clear waves, Darby leading. They swam round the nearest of the three other trawlers, shouted a "good-morning" to the watch, and had a race back, Mark being left far behind; for Darby Catchpole was by far the better swimmer.While they were drying themselves, they looked round about them.There were several vessels lying at anchor within sight. About a mile away was a magnificent American clipper, with four tall masts and an amazing webwork of standing and running rigging, and with the stars and stripes painted on her beautiful hull. A tug lay near her, getting up steam to tow her farther on her voyage to some North Sea port with her cargo of American timber. Farther away there were two British destroyers and a light cruiser.Mark got into his pyjamas and went aft to get a pair of binoculars from the wheel-house; but found the skipper using them."Look slippy and get your warm clothes on, bor," said Snowling. "I expect I shall want you, soon as it's light enough, to do a bit of signallin'."Mark and Darby were both quickly dressed. They returned on deck munching some of Mrs. Catchpole's home-made currant cake. All four of the mine-sweepers were by this time getting up steam."Keep your eye on the light cruiser yonder," ordered the skipper, "and be ready to take down her semaphore message when she starts signallin'."The two boys waited very patiently for about half an hour, when at length the semaphore on the cruiser's bridge began to move."What's he a-sayin'?" Harry Snowling asked."He says: 'How old are you?'" Mark answered. "Tell him ninety-nine," the skipper gravely pursued, giving his ship's number.Mark spelt out the reply with his flags, knowing that the inquiry and the expected response were merely preliminary. There was a pause; then again the semaphore was worked, and Darby read the message:You will proceed at once to the position marked Z on your chart, and begin operations, working in parallels from N.E. to S.W. Please repeat.Mark repeated the message, doing it much quicker then the semaphore had done. The skipper then signalled to his consorts to lift their anchors, and in a very little time the flotilla of mine-sweepers was steaming away between the Forelands and the Goodwins and across the Straits.The position marked on the chart was to the southward of the British mine-field and off the Belgian coast.Other trawlers joined in the work of sweeping for explosive mines which were believed to have been laid by the enemy from boats sent out secretly from Zeebrugge and Ostend. For a long time none were found, but as the searchers drew nearer to the Belgian coast one after another was brought up and exploded. On the second day three were exploded by theDaintyand her sweeping partner, theVeronica, and Darby Catchpole realised by experience that mine-sweeping was in actuality a sternly-strenuous, arduous, and exceedingly hazardous calling.As they worked nearer and nearer to the Belgian coast, ominous sounds came to them across the intervening sea; sounds that told them of the ceaseless warfare on the land. The air was filled with the deep-throated booming of heavy guns, the bursting of high-explosive shells and of shrapnel.With an almost superhuman effort, the Germans were attempting to make themselves masters of the coast and seaports of Northern France. They had concentrated enormous forces of men and heavy artillery, and were making a tremendous forward movement with the intention of getting round the Allies' left flank and cutting off their communications with England and the Channel.If, by taking Dunkirk, Calais, and Boulogne, they could command the Straits of Dover, an invasion of Great Britain would, they believed, be simple. They might lay a double field of mines across from shore to shore with a clear way between, through which their crowded transport barges could pass under cover of their batteries of enormous guns.It was the narrowest part of the straits, between Calais and Dover, which they most earnestly coveted. Calais was their great objective, and they had begun to boast of the victory which they felt certain they must soon achieve. They were already in possession of the Belgian coast. Their trenches were dug close to the sea, supported by their big guns concealed among the sand dunes. From the sea itself there could be no danger, since the water was too shallow to admit of British battleships coming within range, and, besides, the sea was thickly sown with German explosive mines.It was in counting upon the shallowness of the water off the coast that they made their great mistake. No Dreadnought could come within range, it is true; but there are other vessels than Dreadnoughts capable of carrying heavy guns, though perhaps the Germans had not thought to find them off Nieuport.The crew of the mine-sweeperDaintyhad had their curiosity aroused by the sight of three peculiar-looking steamers flying the White Ensign, which came to anchor near them one Saturday evening.Darby Catchpole was particularly interested in them. They were small vessels, of hardly more than a thousand tons. Their low hulls and their upper works, including the funnel and ventilators, were oddly painted in grey and white to confuse the eye and add to their invisibility."They look like river craft," said Darby. "I shouldn't wonder if they drew no more than four feet of water, even with the weight of their guns."He was right about their being river craft. They had been built for the Brazilian Government for use in shoal water. Their sides were heavily armoured. Each mounted an armament of two 6-inch guns, two howitzers, four 3-pounders, and six quick-firing guns, and she could discharge a ton and a half of metal every minute.These were the ships—monitors they were called—with which the British Navy was prepared to prove that the waters off the Flemish coast were not too shallow to admit of heavy guns coming within range of the German trenches. With their shallow draught they could defy the enemy's submarines, whose torpedoes were set to run about twelve feet below the surface, and they could move to and fro, confusing the aim of the Germans' heavy artillery.The monitors were supported by several old cruisers, gunboats, and destroyers, French as well as British, and, much to the surprise of Harry Snowling and his crew, the trawlers also were ordered to take their part in the operations. They formed the advance guard to search for hostile submarines or possible mines, and to spy out the positions of the German batteries by drawing their fire, while the Allies' aeroplanes made observations from the air.Suddenly the three monitors, coming within range, opened fire with their 6-inch guns and howitzers, and it was then that the Germans had the surprise of their lives.Steaming backward and forward parallel with the coast, the ships kept up a constant cannonade, dropping their lyddite shells with precision into the enemy's trenches, smashing their batteries and spreading havoc and destruction.The Germans brought down their heaviest guns to the shore and returned the fire in an attempt to drive off the ships. But all their efforts against moving targets were in vain.They sent out submarines from their hiding places in the Belgian canals; but these, too, were of no avail. The crushing cannonade from the British ships could not be silenced, and there was no alternative but for the Germans to abandon their positions and evacuate a large extent of the country, after suffering terrible losses in material and men.In the course of this bombardment of the enemy's right flank, the British trawlers were active in sweeping for mines sown by the German submarines. This was perilous work, as it brought the little vessels into the zone of fire. Only one of them, however, was hit, and this happened to be theDainty.An enemy aeroplane had been flying over the ships, trying to drop bombs on them. Mark Redisham and Darby Catchpole were watching when they saw a French monoplane rise from the Allies' lines beyond a point of the land and give chase to the German Taube.The two machines circled about like a pair of swallows, mounting and descending, swooping this way and that. The pursuit lasted fully half an hour when at length the Taube made a determined dash at the monoplane as if to ram it.Very dexterously the French pilot swerved and ranged his machine up beside his adversary, the expanded wings almost touching. Four spurts of fire were seen. Then the monoplane ascended in a spiral, while the Taube began to drop, quivering like a wounded bird.Plunging sideways, it turned over and fell down, down with a splash into the sea, midway between theDaintyand the land.Skipper Snowling put on full steam and steered towards it, to rescue the pilot if he should still be alive.Immediately one of the German heavy guns on the shore opened fire upon the trawler. Snowling altered his course and bore outward. This saved his boat from the first shell, which fell astern; but a second, from a smaller gun, crashed into her frail hull, and that was the end of her.In a cloud of smoke and escaping steam Darby and Mark found themselves struggling to swim clear of the wreckage. Neither of them was hurt. They both wore their safety collars and life-belts, and both were good swimmers. But what of their shipmates?One of the deck hands came to the surface and Darby grabbed at his arm."All right, bor," the man cried, shaking the water from his hair. "Look arter yourself. Make for the monitor that's bearin' down on us."Mark and Darby swam about for a while and soon discovered the skipper trying to raise the cook's head above water."He's done for," said Snowling. "We can only leave him, poor fellow. But Tom Beckett's behind you, see if you can help him and keep him afloat."The monitor was close at hand now, firing her howitzers landward as she approached. She dropped a boat, and five of theDainty'screw were picked up. Eight were either drowned or killed. The survivors were transferred to theVeronicaand taken home to Haddisport, while the ships continued their bombardment of the enemy's batteries, although already there was reason to believe that the German plan of seizing Dunkirk and Calais had been successfully frustrated.The Royal Navy had proved once again the truth of the old saying that it can go anywhere and do anything. But it was soon to prove in a yet more signal manner that Britain's sovereignty of the seas was no mere idle boast, but a glorious reality.CHAPTER XXIX.MAX MEETS THE ADMIRAL."Ach, my dear Max, how it rejoices me once again to see you!"Ever since the perilous moment on board the doomed German battleship in the Bight of Heligoland, when Max Hilliger had saved his uncle's life, Admiral von Hilliger had shown a peculiarly affectionate regard for his nephew. In his estimation Max was not only a relative to be proud of, but a hero worthy of high favour, an officer whose knowledge of seamanship, whose patriotism and resourcefulness made him of inestimable value in the Kaiser's naval service.Had Max happened to be a few years older, he might have counted upon rapid promotion; he might even, in spite of his inexperience and lack of technical training, have been given the full command of a submarine, or been appointed as a Zeppelin officer, charged with the duty of voyaging in an airship across to England to drop incendiary bombs upon enemy towns.But owing to his extreme youth he could not at present hold a higher rank than that of midshipman, even though his actual duties were those of a sub-lieutenant.Still, as Max himself realised, it was better to be serving as a junior officer in a submarine and doing important work for the Fatherland than to be tramping the quarter-deck of an idle battleship with no immediate chance of fighting.They had met now, quite unexpectedly, on the quay at Brunsbuttel, at the western outlet of the Kiel Canal. Max had just come ashore from the U50, which had entered from the sea and been moored alongside of other submarines within the massive lock gates. He had been marching along the stone parapet, feeling very important in his naval uniform, with its gold lace and brass buttons, and proudly conscious of the Iron Cross which dangled conspicuously from his expanded chest.Seamen and marines saluted him ceremoniously as he strode proudly past them; he, himself, saluted all officers of higher rank than his own. As he turned sharply round the corner of the custom-house, he came almost full tilt against Admiral von Hilliger, resplendent in gold lace, medals, epaulettes, and cocked hat, and escorted by two flag officers.Max clipped his heels together and saluted. The admiral flung out his arms."Ach, my dear Max," he cried, embracing the embarrassed midshipman, "how it rejoices me once again to see you! It is good we have met. In one hour I should have been gone across to Wilhelmshaven, and you would have missed me. Come! You will take midday eating with me. There is much that we have to say to each other."Max followed him and the two officers through intricate passages between huge stacks of ammunition boxes and naval stores, and across an open pavement to the front of an hotel. Here the two officers stood aside, and Max went past them with his uncle up the steps and into a little room whose windows looked out upon the grey estuary of the Elbe and the distant fleet.Admiral von Hilliger turned the key of the door, glanced behind a curtain, and even into a cupboard, to assure himself that he was alone with his nephew; then took his stand in front of the stove and lighted a very long cigar."During the seven minutes before lunch," he began, "we will talk business. What have you been doing in the past two weeks? How many more of the mischievous enemy's ships have you sunk with your brave submarine?"Max did not answer immediately."Lieutenant Körner has prepared his report," he said presently. "I am his subordinate. It is not for me to account for what he has done. We have not been idle.""But Lieutenant Körner is not here," pursued the admiral, "and I wish to know what ships have been sunk. How many of their dreadnoughts have you sent to the bottom of the German Ocean since last we met?""None, sir," Max answered. "Those which we have seen have been too well guarded for us to approach them within striking distance. We sank a Swedish steamer carrying timber to the Thames, a British collier coming out of the Tyne. We lay in wait three days to torpedo a Harwich passenger boat, which slipped past us, after all. Many steamers have escaped us by their higher speed and their manoeuvring. Even the English patrol-trawlers now carry guns; but we have accounted for four of them.""Good," nodded the admiral. "I would have every one of their wretched fishing boats swept off the seas. They are our worst enemies. Do not be deceived by their seeming innocence, my dear Max. While they are fishing, they are also watching and carrying information. Sink them—sink them without warning, without mercy. Naturally you have not allowed any of their crews to escape?"Max glanced into the admiral's red-bearded face."But yes," he admitted. "In each case we have given them time to take to their boats.""Thunder and lightning!" exclaimed his uncle, stamping a heavy foot. "This will not do. You must not permit your ridiculous scruples of humanity to interfere with your duty—the duty of sinking every vessel you can find, with every one in her. Let none escape. Remember that every ship now sailing the seas is either an enemy or a friend of the enemy, whose purpose it is to help the hateful English and to do harm to our beloved Fatherland!"He puffed desperately at his cigar as if with the intention of finishing it as speedily as possible."Listen, my dear Max," he went on. "In future you shall put aside all scruple. Give no warning of your intentions, give no time for escape; but with gun or torpedo, sink, sink, sink without a moment's mercy!"Max had fixed his gaze into the glowing coals of the open stove. Suddenly he looked up once again into his uncle's face."But, suppose, sir, that there are women and children in the ship; are they, too, to be sacrificed?" he quietly asked.Admiral von Hilliger gasped in astonishment at the suggestion."Women?" he cried. "Will you never understand that women can be as mischievous as men? Do you not realise that our enemies' children will grow up to be enemy men and women? Bah! Do not make such a mistake. We are engaged in war, and war has its necessities. The British people know their own danger. If they go upon the seas, it is at their own risks. We cannot discriminate between the innocent and the guilty. All, indeed, are guilty if they so much as set foot upon a British ship."He strode to and fro restlessly in front of the stove."And now," he pursued, after a pause, "what else have you done? What have you learnt of the enemy's navy? You have been along their coasts; you have entered their rivers and peeped into their harbours. Where are their battleships?""It would be easier to tell you where they are not," returned Max. "They are not assembled in the Straits of Dover, or off the Dogger Bank, or off Haddisport. We have not been able to find them. And yet,mein Herr, I will undertake to say that if our own Great High Sea Fleet were to sally out beyond the protection of our mine-fields it would not go far before a squadron of British Dreadnoughts flashed out to give battle."Admiral von Hilliger laughed awkwardly."My dear Max," he said with forced lightness, "I perceive that you are still tainted with your false ideas of Britain's strength upon the seas. You must remember that our German fleet is as yet practically intact. We are as strong as we were at the beginning of the war, and as ready to meet the British whenever they choose to come out of their hiding-places. What you tell me is satisfactory, however. You assure me once again that the enemy are in close hiding and that they are afraid to come out and meet us in a pitched battle. Your remark that they will pounce upon us, once we leave the protection of our mine-fields, is very funny. Already they have proved many times that they prefer the security of their own harbours rather than the risk of facing our guns. We have given them chances; we will give them chances again. But not in the way they would wish. Listen, my dear Max, I will tell you something."Max went nearer to him. The admiral cautiously lowered his voice."Our agents have been doing good work," he said. "Helped by your all-knowing father, they have given away information upon which the British Admiralty will act. The information, I need hardly tell you, is false and misleading. But what would you? War is war, and to deceive and mislead your enemy is one of the essentials of successful strategy. Is it not true? Well, then, we have to-day issued a secret report that a squadron of our battleships has crept out, and is now cruising off the coast of Norway. The Norwegian people have helped us by declaring that already they have heard the thunder of our naval guns at sea. An hour ago, we received word that the British Fleet has gone off in force towards Norway.""Yes," Max nodded. "It has gone out on what we call a wild-goose chase, you mean? But in what way shall we benefit?"Admiral von Hilliger puffed more vigorously than ever at his cigar."Is it not obvious to you, my dear?" he questioned. "By alluring them out of their harbours, we make our path clear. We take our great ships across to England and do our worst. It is all arranged. We start to-day—this evening. To-morrow morning, while their gunboats are vainly searching for a phantom fleet in Norwegian waters, our invincible battleships will be engaged in firing their shells into the fortified seaports of Newcastle and Hull."Max Hilliger allowed himself to smile."It is a mere detail that neither Hull nor Newcastle happens to be a fortified town," he ventured. "But there will be no military advantage in such a bombardment. The sinking of one battle cruiser would be to us worth the destruction of half a dozen towns. What good did we do by smashing a few windows in Haddisport? We gained nothing to balance the waste of ammunition and the loss of one of our own ships that ran up against one of our own floating mines! Believe me, my uncle, the English people are not easily frightened. It will take more than an hour's bombardment of their seaside villas to put them in a state of panic.""In that case," returned the admiral, "we shall take yet stronger measures to convince them of our frightfulness. This time, we shall take with us our most powerful battleships. We shall show them that it is we and not they who hold command of the seas."He flung his unfinished cigar into the stove and drew his nephew to the window."Look once out there," he said, pointing across the sea to where the Kaiser's fleet could be dimly seen on the far horizon. "If the contemptible English could but open their eyes upon those ships, do you suppose that they would any longer dare to boast of their own paltry navy?Ach, my dear Max, wait! To-morrow you shall see!"
CHAPTER XXV.
MAX HILLIGER'S SATISFACTION.
Max Hilliger's declaration that he would not be satisfied until Lieutenant Hermann Körner and he had put a torpedo into a British battleship was not long in being fulfilled.
How they discovered that such a ship was to be found in a particular position on the North Sea at a particular time is a matter which cannot be explained. It is certain that the Germans succeeded in discovering many of the movements and intended movements of the British Fleet which were believed to be secret, and of which even many highly-placed British naval officers were profoundly ignorant. Doubtless their spy system and their methods of communication were perfectly well organised and established long before the outbreak of war.
By whatsoever means he received his information, Lieutenant Körner expected the squadron to pass southward, and he prepared to carry out his instructions by bringing his submarine within striking distance at the anticipated moment.
It was a wild, dark winter's night, bitterly cold, with a fierce wind blowing from the north-east. Submarines are not commonly supposed to be of great use in the darkness; their periscopes are then blind. But Körner boldly kept the U50 on the surface, trusting to the high waves to hide her betraying conning-tower from watchful eyes and from the beams of searchlights.
But as an additional measure of protection and deception he had hoisted a pair of brown lugsails on her two temporary masts, so that from a distance she might have the appearance of an innocent fishing boat. This ruse was a development and improvement of Max Hilliger's idea of concealing a submarine within the body of a larger boat.
Hour after weary hour went by; but no light, no steamer's smoke; could be seen through the inky darkness. Still he waited, while the submarine rocked and tossed and rolled on the giant waves, and the wind shrieked angrily.
Towards midnight a tiny masthead light blinked fitfully through the curtain of driving sleet.
"They come!" said Körner from his post in the conning-tower. He had seen a green starboard light gleam wanly against an approaching vessel's black hull.
"It is only a fishing trawler making for home," Max Hilliger declared with a shiver. "Let us submerge and get out of the cold and wet."
"Not yet, not yet," returned Körner. "They will surely come. We are in their track. They cannot have turned back. Our own battleships could weather a worse storm than this, and so could they. Whatever else the cowardly English are afraid of, they are not afraid of the sea. I believe the blood in their veins is made of salt water. If you are cold, my friend, go below and warm yourself. Already it is a long time since you had supper."
Max crept below like a dog into its kennel and took some food and a drink of hot coffee in the warmth of the engine-room. The warmth made him sleepy, and he did not return to the conning-tower until he was called.
Körner and the quarter-master were at their posts. From their point of observation they had seen the black shapes of an advancing squadron of battleships, light cruisers, and torpedo-boat destroyers. They could be British only, since no German warship larger than a destroyer was permitted to put to sea. No lights were displayed, but a reflected glow from the furnaces mingled with the smoke rising from the blackness of the funnels, and the wash of spray as the vessels cut through the water showed whiter than the whiteness of the breaking waves.
The German seamen were at their quarters, the officers at the control stations, the engineers at work with the petrol motors, the gunners at the air-compressors for charging the torpedo tubes. All was quiet but for the ceaseless rattle of cranks and pistons and the whining of well-oiled wheels. The submarine was manoeuvred round as if to cross the bows of the British ships.
A couple of the destroyers went past, then a light cruiser. Next came the towering bulk of a Dreadnought, looming out of the darkness. Sparks of fire floated amid the thick volume of coal smoke from her foremost funnel; a shaft of light came through an open doorway on her high bridge.
"I believe it's theTriumphant!" said Max Hilliger, at the lieutenant's elbow.
It was at a point forward of the bridge, on the starboard side, that the torpedo was aimed. There was no possibility of its missing so huge a target. But to make certain of hitting a vital part well below the armoured belt a second torpedo was to be fired, and then the submarine would submerge and make good her escape.
On board theTriumphantthe larger number of her officers and crew of nearly eight hundred men were below asleep when the fearful crash came. Hammocks and bunks were jerked up by the shock. The torpedo had missed the magazine by a few feet, but it burst through the stout plates, entering the dynamo-room, and all electricity, both for lighting and for wireless instruments, was shut off. The great ship at once listed over, and the order was given: "All hands on the upper deck."
Two minutes after the first alarm, word was sent up from the engine-room to the captain on the bridge that flooding had begun in the boiler-room, and that no more steam could be got up. There could be no hope of running her towards land and beaching her. It was seen from the first that she could not be saved.
The engines were stopped and the engineers and stokers were ordered up on deck. They were scrambling up the ladders when the second torpedo struck her. Distress signals were fired, but her consorts were advised to stand off at a safe distance in case of a further attack.
For want of steam to work the hoists the boats had to be got clear by reeving a big rope round the deck and hauling upon it. With perfect discipline the men performed this difficult operation in total darkness while the sinking ship was being washed by mountainous waves.
All woodwork that could be seized upon and everything that would float was brought on deck for the men to cling to. They waited, hoping that the watertight compartments would keep her afloat until daylight; but at length the captain sang out:
"Into the water with you; she's going!"
Then it was a matter of every man for himself. Some reached the boats before the ship went down, some were drawn under by the suction; many were picked up by one of the cruisers; but of all the ship's company not more than two hundred came to land in safety, and even these, scantily clothed, had suffered terribly from exposure in the open boats.
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE GUIDING LIGHT.
The municipal authorities in Haddisport had for a long time past displayed great vigilance in keeping the town dark at night. The street lamps were not lighted; shopkeepers incurred penalties if they failed to keep their premises so dimly lighted that you could not distinguish the difference between butter and cheese; the tramway cars were muffled in thick curtains; on the sea-front you were liable to reprimand if you struck a match to light your pipe.
Most of the houses were lighted by electricity, and it was recognised that in the event of an imminent raid upon the town by German airships the electricity should be turned off at the power-house, where a screeching hooter would be sounded to warn the inhabitants to take cover in their basements or their garden trenches.
Many of the occupants of houses facing the sea abandoned their front rooms after sunset. Even the thickest of curtains and blinds and the most cunning lamp-shades were not always proof against some chink or slit revealing the light within, and then there was sure to be an alarming visit from the sentries patrolling the beach or the policeman on his beat, or Sea Scouts on watch duty.
"I should say the Germans had something else to do than cross the North Sea in their Zeppelins to drop bombs on a harmless town like Haddisport," remarked Vera Redisham, one night at supper.
"They might do it for the sake of spreading panic," observed her mother.
"Or by way of preliminary experiment before making an air raid in force upon London," added Mark. "That's what they're planning, of course. They'd consider it as good as a naval victory if they could set London on fire. Hullo! what's wrong with the electric light? I put new bulbs on only yesterday!"
The light flickered for a moment or two and then went out, plunging the room in darkness.
"The hooter's sounding!" cried Vera. "Listen!"
"We'd better all get down into the basement," recommended Mrs. Redisham. "You mustn't go outside, Mark."
She had hardly spoken when the whole house shook, the windows rattled, and the air was split by a resounding explosion.
"Ah!" shouted Mark. "Zeppelins! Zeppelins!"
Mrs. Redisham made her way down the stairs to the basement to get the servants into a place of safety.
A second bomb sounded, and then there came the firing of an anti-aircraft gun.
Mark ran up the staircase to the half landing where there was a window above the hall door, from which he could look out in the direction of the town. His sister Vera followed him.
"We're as safe here as anywhere else," she said in excuse for her presence. "Can you see anything?"
"I saw a flash just now," Mark answered. "I believe it was the Zeppelin's searchlight. Oo! did you hear that! It must have struck some building. What's that glow of light over there? They've set some place on fire!"
He afterwards learnt that an incendiary bomb, aimed at the naval signal station, had fallen in a timber yard and set the stacks of wood in flames.
Vera counted ten explosions in all. Then the bomb-dropping ceased.
"They haven't stopped long," she sighed in relief. "I do hope nobody has been hurt. What are you looking at? Can you see the airship?"
"Yes. It's like a big sausage high up in the air, just over St. Nicholas' Church. Have a look!"
Mark moved aside to make room for Vera.
"I see it! I see it!" she cried. "And, oh, Mark, it's chasing a motor-car!"
Mark peered out into the darkness and saw the brilliantly-lighted lamp of a motor flashing along the Buremouth road. The beam of the light was shed upward. The car was travelling at a tremendous pace.
"Chasing it?" said Mark. "I don't think it's a chase. That car is acting as a pilot—showing the airship which way to go, and where to drop its bombs! I shouldn't wonder in the least if the man driving it were Heinrich Hilliger!"
CHAPTER XXVII.
SURVIVORS.
As the motor-car, with its flaring headlight, went out of sight beyond the projection of the window from which they had watched it, Mark and Vera Redisham ran farther up the staircase and along the passage to Rodney's room, on the north side of the house.
Mark crossed to the large door-window and flung it open. It led out to a roofed balcony overlooking the garden. Rodney had used this balcony as a study, from which he could watch the ships, pretending that it was an admiral's gallery at the stern of a line-of-battle ship. On summer nights he had had a hammock slung across from side to side and had slept in the open air.
Mark caught at the balcony rail now, and bent forward, looking up into the night sky, searching for the Zeppelin by the purring of its machinery.
"There it is! There it is!" he cried. And taking hold of Vera's arm he drew her to him and pointed.
Even though it was very high, the airship looked large. It was not travelling quickly; it seemed for a time to be hovering like a hawk. Against the blue darkness of the sky the two cars could be distinguished beneath the cigar-shaped structure. The rattling noise of the engines and the hum of the propellers could be clearly heard.
"It's queer to think that there are Germans in it," said Vera, "and that they're there with the intention of killing people! I suppose they're going to Buremouth now, after dropping their horrid fire-bombs on Haddisport."
"Look!" exclaimed Mark. "There's that motor-car again! I'm almost certain it's acting as a pilot. See how the headlight is turned upward into the sky, so that the airmen can see it! I ought to go downstairs and telephone to the Buremouth police. Hullo!"
He had seen and heard a second motor-car, dashing along the nearer Alderwick road, followed by a couple of motor-bicycles. Presently there was an upward spurt of fire from the car and the crackle of a machine-gun.
"They're firing up at the Zeppelin!" cried Vera. "Oh, I hope they'll hit it!"
A thin streak of brilliant light flashed downward from the airship. Something seemed to fall with a thud, a dull explosion, and immediately there was a blaze of fire in the midst of the withered gorse and brambles about a mile in front of the armoured motor-car.
"They've dropped an incendiary bomb," Mark explained, "but nowhere near the road. The car can get past."
The firing from the anti-aircraft gun continued; but soon the Zeppelin steered round and went westward over the land, and the armoured car dropped out of range. More bombs were launched; but they fell harmlessly in ploughed fields where there were no houses. The pilot car by this time had disappeared.
The military car was returning, led by the motor cyclists. Just as the latter emerged from the woodland on the near side of Alderwick village, the Zeppelin again turned towards the sea and sailed outward immediately above the machine-gun, which again opened fire with a prolonged stream of bullets.
"I believe our men have hit it!" Mark declared. "Look at that long jet of smoke! And the whole thing is wobbling like a winged pheasant."
Whether the airship was struck or not, neither Mark nor the men in the armoured car could tell with certainty. They watched the ponderous vessel flying out to sea until it faded from sight, mingling with the blackness of a heavy cloud in the far east. Going downstairs again, Mark telephoned to the naval base and got into communication with Mr. Bilverstone, from whom he learnt that the worst material damage done by the bombs was at a timberyard near the harbour. Some big stacks of timber had been set on fire, and a company of Territorials were helping the seamen of H.M.S.Kingfisherin the work of subduing the flames.
So far as Mr. Bilverstone had yet heard, no one had been seriously injured. Two horses had been killed at the railway goods station, and a great many window-panes had been smashed.
News had been received, however, that there had been a second Zeppelin. The pair of them had come across the North Sea in company until land had been sighted, when they had separated, one coming to Haddisport, the other making a much wider circuit, dropping both explosive and incendiary bombs on three coast towns in succession.
Late on the following afternoon, Mark Redisham and Darby Catchpole were at the naval base, waiting for instructions, when a flotilla of mine-sweepers came into the harbour. One of them was theMignonette. As she came alongside the quay, Mark and Darby saw two very bedraggled young men in shabby naval uniform standing with the skipper abaft the wheel-house.
"They look like German prisoners," Mark said below his breath.
"They've been in the water," added Darby, "picked up from a sinking submarine, I dare say. There's Ned Quester. Let's ask him about them."
Ned was climbing along the port bulwark, dragging the end of a heavy mooring-rope. Having secured it round a bollard, he turned and saw the two Sea Scouts.
"See those two chaps down there?" he began. "They're Deutschers. They look rather sad, don't they? We rescued them early this morning, this side of the Dogger. Just before dawn, we saw two rockets go up—a red and a blue. We made for the place, thinking it was a vessel in distress. So it was, but not the sort of vessel we expected. It looked like an immense dead whale, seen in the dim light. When we got nearer we were still puzzled by the shape of it, and could only guess that it was a wrecked airship."
"What?" cried Mark Redisham, "a Zeppelin?—the Zeppelin that was over Haddisport last night, dropping bombs? Then the anti-aircraft gun must have hit it, after all!"
"That's right," nodded Ned. "Major Proudfynski—that's the older of the two, who speaks English, of a sort—told us that they had done heaps of damage, and killed he didn't know how many people, and that a whole battery of artillery had fired up at them. Of course, we knew he was exaggerating. However, when we got out the boat and pulled alongside the thing, we knew it could only be a Zep that had come to grief. One of the propellers was above water. We could see some of the bent and tangled framework, supported by a section of the still inflated gas-bag. Afterwards we fired a shot into it, letting the gas escape, and then the wreckage went down. But before that, we'd seen these two chaps clinging to the framework, and we got them off and took them aboard theMignonette. They were so exhausted by the exposure that they couldn't speak, and the younger one had to be worked at for a long time before he came to his senses."
"But there must have been a whole crowd of others," said Mark. "Those Zeps have a crew of thirty or forty at least."
"Yes, I know," returned Ned. "The rest were all drowned under the wreckage. These two had the sense to jump out when she was falling and get clear of the stays. They could swim. What puzzled our skipper was how they managed to send up the two rockets. But it seems the airship fell by the bow with her stern sticking up above water for a time, and the major got into one of the gondolas, where there was a box of rockets and things—matches, as well, I suppose."
Officers from the naval station had come to the edge of the wharf. One of them spoke to the Germans, asking them to come ashore.
"What are you going to do with us?" questioned the elder of the two.
"Oh, you'll be all right!" he was told. "You are prisoners; but that doesn't mean that you will be ill-treated."
"Prisoners?"
"Yes. You don't imagine that we are going to let you go back to Germany, do you? Not after what you did last night. You came across to England to pay us a visit; why should you hurry away? We'll show you what it's like to live in a civilised country."
An escort of armed bluejackets had been drawn up on the quay. The two prisoners were conducted to the base, where they were questioned briefly before being given the honours of war and taken to the hotel. After they had had a good dinner they were sent, still under escort, by a special train, to a destination far removed from the unfriendly sea.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE WAY TO CALAIS.
Darby Catchpole was with Mark Redisham now for a particular reason. He had lately joined the Royal Naval Reserve, and had been appointed a signal-boy for duty on one of the mine-sweepers. In order that he might gain some experience of the work, however, he was to go for a preliminary trip with Commodore Snowling on theDainty, which was to steam out to sea at sundown.
"I only hope we shall be going somewhere in sight of our Dreadnoughts," he said to Mark, while they waited on the wharf for the skipper. "I should love to see a naval action."
"Not much chance of that," Mark told him. "We shall not see an enemy ship of any sort—except possibly a submarine. I dare say we shall only be on ordinary patrol duty, steaming to and fro along the coasts like soldiers on sentry-go. It isn't always exciting. We don't have an adventure every trip, unless you call it an adventure to have a green sea come over you, or to have your clothes frozen like iron plates on your back. Sometimes it's exceedingly uncomfortable and monotonous. I hope you've brought some books to read. Your kit bag looks pretty full."
"It's full of eatables, mostly," Darby answered. "Mother has the idea that mine-sweepers go out with no provisions aboard."
"Here comes our old man," Mark intimated, seeing Harry Snowling approaching from the direction of the naval base, where he had been to receive his sailing orders.
"He's got some new charts under his arm; so I suppose we're bound to some place where we've never been before. I hope it's not up north to the Orkneys or Shetlands. We had our share of storms and snow when we went through the Pentland Firth."
The two Sea Scouts saluted their skipper as he came swinging along with an empty pipe in his mouth.
"Right you are, bors," he said cheerily. "Lay aboard and cast off."
When they had cleared the harbour and were out in the blue water, Mark took his trick at the steering-wheel. The course given him was E.S.E., but after a while it was changed to south-east, the change being indicated to the three trawlers that were following by signals from the syren.
"Dessay you're a-wonderin' where we're goin', bor?" said the skipper, glancing into Mark's face, which was lighted by the dim glow from the binnacle. "And so am I. But we're a-sailin' under sealed orders this trip, and shan't know till the stroke of midnight."
At midnight Mark and Darby were both in their bunks, and they saw the skipper come below, seat himself under the hanging lamp, break open a sealed envelope, and take out a slip of typewritten paper.
"Um!" murmured the skipper, "dunno as how they need have kep' it a secret. Seems to me they keeps things secret just for the fun of it, sometimes—same as our Sally. You c'n goo to sleep, bors," he added, glancing towards the bunks.
He stood up, and, quitting the cabin, went on deck, leaving the slip of paper on the flap-table, knowing that neither of the boys would look at it. He had implicit trust in them.
From the engine-room came the tinkle of the telegraph, the syren was blown, the engines stopped, and then there came the grunting of the winch and the noisy rattle of the anchor chain through the hawse hole.
"We're anchored for the night," said Mark, turning over on his pillow.
TheDaintywas still at anchor in the early morning when the two Scouts jumped out of their bunks and climbed up on deck in their pyjamas, with towels round their necks. They opened the side gangway and put out the ladder, then stripped and dived off into the cold, clear waves, Darby leading. They swam round the nearest of the three other trawlers, shouted a "good-morning" to the watch, and had a race back, Mark being left far behind; for Darby Catchpole was by far the better swimmer.
While they were drying themselves, they looked round about them.
There were several vessels lying at anchor within sight. About a mile away was a magnificent American clipper, with four tall masts and an amazing webwork of standing and running rigging, and with the stars and stripes painted on her beautiful hull. A tug lay near her, getting up steam to tow her farther on her voyage to some North Sea port with her cargo of American timber. Farther away there were two British destroyers and a light cruiser.
Mark got into his pyjamas and went aft to get a pair of binoculars from the wheel-house; but found the skipper using them.
"Look slippy and get your warm clothes on, bor," said Snowling. "I expect I shall want you, soon as it's light enough, to do a bit of signallin'."
Mark and Darby were both quickly dressed. They returned on deck munching some of Mrs. Catchpole's home-made currant cake. All four of the mine-sweepers were by this time getting up steam.
"Keep your eye on the light cruiser yonder," ordered the skipper, "and be ready to take down her semaphore message when she starts signallin'."
The two boys waited very patiently for about half an hour, when at length the semaphore on the cruiser's bridge began to move.
"What's he a-sayin'?" Harry Snowling asked.
"He says: 'How old are you?'" Mark answered. "Tell him ninety-nine," the skipper gravely pursued, giving his ship's number.
Mark spelt out the reply with his flags, knowing that the inquiry and the expected response were merely preliminary. There was a pause; then again the semaphore was worked, and Darby read the message:
You will proceed at once to the position marked Z on your chart, and begin operations, working in parallels from N.E. to S.W. Please repeat.
You will proceed at once to the position marked Z on your chart, and begin operations, working in parallels from N.E. to S.W. Please repeat.
Mark repeated the message, doing it much quicker then the semaphore had done. The skipper then signalled to his consorts to lift their anchors, and in a very little time the flotilla of mine-sweepers was steaming away between the Forelands and the Goodwins and across the Straits.
The position marked on the chart was to the southward of the British mine-field and off the Belgian coast.
Other trawlers joined in the work of sweeping for explosive mines which were believed to have been laid by the enemy from boats sent out secretly from Zeebrugge and Ostend. For a long time none were found, but as the searchers drew nearer to the Belgian coast one after another was brought up and exploded. On the second day three were exploded by theDaintyand her sweeping partner, theVeronica, and Darby Catchpole realised by experience that mine-sweeping was in actuality a sternly-strenuous, arduous, and exceedingly hazardous calling.
As they worked nearer and nearer to the Belgian coast, ominous sounds came to them across the intervening sea; sounds that told them of the ceaseless warfare on the land. The air was filled with the deep-throated booming of heavy guns, the bursting of high-explosive shells and of shrapnel.
With an almost superhuman effort, the Germans were attempting to make themselves masters of the coast and seaports of Northern France. They had concentrated enormous forces of men and heavy artillery, and were making a tremendous forward movement with the intention of getting round the Allies' left flank and cutting off their communications with England and the Channel.
If, by taking Dunkirk, Calais, and Boulogne, they could command the Straits of Dover, an invasion of Great Britain would, they believed, be simple. They might lay a double field of mines across from shore to shore with a clear way between, through which their crowded transport barges could pass under cover of their batteries of enormous guns.
It was the narrowest part of the straits, between Calais and Dover, which they most earnestly coveted. Calais was their great objective, and they had begun to boast of the victory which they felt certain they must soon achieve. They were already in possession of the Belgian coast. Their trenches were dug close to the sea, supported by their big guns concealed among the sand dunes. From the sea itself there could be no danger, since the water was too shallow to admit of British battleships coming within range, and, besides, the sea was thickly sown with German explosive mines.
It was in counting upon the shallowness of the water off the coast that they made their great mistake. No Dreadnought could come within range, it is true; but there are other vessels than Dreadnoughts capable of carrying heavy guns, though perhaps the Germans had not thought to find them off Nieuport.
The crew of the mine-sweeperDaintyhad had their curiosity aroused by the sight of three peculiar-looking steamers flying the White Ensign, which came to anchor near them one Saturday evening.
Darby Catchpole was particularly interested in them. They were small vessels, of hardly more than a thousand tons. Their low hulls and their upper works, including the funnel and ventilators, were oddly painted in grey and white to confuse the eye and add to their invisibility.
"They look like river craft," said Darby. "I shouldn't wonder if they drew no more than four feet of water, even with the weight of their guns."
He was right about their being river craft. They had been built for the Brazilian Government for use in shoal water. Their sides were heavily armoured. Each mounted an armament of two 6-inch guns, two howitzers, four 3-pounders, and six quick-firing guns, and she could discharge a ton and a half of metal every minute.
These were the ships—monitors they were called—with which the British Navy was prepared to prove that the waters off the Flemish coast were not too shallow to admit of heavy guns coming within range of the German trenches. With their shallow draught they could defy the enemy's submarines, whose torpedoes were set to run about twelve feet below the surface, and they could move to and fro, confusing the aim of the Germans' heavy artillery.
The monitors were supported by several old cruisers, gunboats, and destroyers, French as well as British, and, much to the surprise of Harry Snowling and his crew, the trawlers also were ordered to take their part in the operations. They formed the advance guard to search for hostile submarines or possible mines, and to spy out the positions of the German batteries by drawing their fire, while the Allies' aeroplanes made observations from the air.
Suddenly the three monitors, coming within range, opened fire with their 6-inch guns and howitzers, and it was then that the Germans had the surprise of their lives.
Steaming backward and forward parallel with the coast, the ships kept up a constant cannonade, dropping their lyddite shells with precision into the enemy's trenches, smashing their batteries and spreading havoc and destruction.
The Germans brought down their heaviest guns to the shore and returned the fire in an attempt to drive off the ships. But all their efforts against moving targets were in vain.
They sent out submarines from their hiding places in the Belgian canals; but these, too, were of no avail. The crushing cannonade from the British ships could not be silenced, and there was no alternative but for the Germans to abandon their positions and evacuate a large extent of the country, after suffering terrible losses in material and men.
In the course of this bombardment of the enemy's right flank, the British trawlers were active in sweeping for mines sown by the German submarines. This was perilous work, as it brought the little vessels into the zone of fire. Only one of them, however, was hit, and this happened to be theDainty.
An enemy aeroplane had been flying over the ships, trying to drop bombs on them. Mark Redisham and Darby Catchpole were watching when they saw a French monoplane rise from the Allies' lines beyond a point of the land and give chase to the German Taube.
The two machines circled about like a pair of swallows, mounting and descending, swooping this way and that. The pursuit lasted fully half an hour when at length the Taube made a determined dash at the monoplane as if to ram it.
Very dexterously the French pilot swerved and ranged his machine up beside his adversary, the expanded wings almost touching. Four spurts of fire were seen. Then the monoplane ascended in a spiral, while the Taube began to drop, quivering like a wounded bird.
Plunging sideways, it turned over and fell down, down with a splash into the sea, midway between theDaintyand the land.
Skipper Snowling put on full steam and steered towards it, to rescue the pilot if he should still be alive.
Immediately one of the German heavy guns on the shore opened fire upon the trawler. Snowling altered his course and bore outward. This saved his boat from the first shell, which fell astern; but a second, from a smaller gun, crashed into her frail hull, and that was the end of her.
In a cloud of smoke and escaping steam Darby and Mark found themselves struggling to swim clear of the wreckage. Neither of them was hurt. They both wore their safety collars and life-belts, and both were good swimmers. But what of their shipmates?
One of the deck hands came to the surface and Darby grabbed at his arm.
"All right, bor," the man cried, shaking the water from his hair. "Look arter yourself. Make for the monitor that's bearin' down on us."
Mark and Darby swam about for a while and soon discovered the skipper trying to raise the cook's head above water.
"He's done for," said Snowling. "We can only leave him, poor fellow. But Tom Beckett's behind you, see if you can help him and keep him afloat."
The monitor was close at hand now, firing her howitzers landward as she approached. She dropped a boat, and five of theDainty'screw were picked up. Eight were either drowned or killed. The survivors were transferred to theVeronicaand taken home to Haddisport, while the ships continued their bombardment of the enemy's batteries, although already there was reason to believe that the German plan of seizing Dunkirk and Calais had been successfully frustrated.
The Royal Navy had proved once again the truth of the old saying that it can go anywhere and do anything. But it was soon to prove in a yet more signal manner that Britain's sovereignty of the seas was no mere idle boast, but a glorious reality.
CHAPTER XXIX.
MAX MEETS THE ADMIRAL.
"Ach, my dear Max, how it rejoices me once again to see you!"
Ever since the perilous moment on board the doomed German battleship in the Bight of Heligoland, when Max Hilliger had saved his uncle's life, Admiral von Hilliger had shown a peculiarly affectionate regard for his nephew. In his estimation Max was not only a relative to be proud of, but a hero worthy of high favour, an officer whose knowledge of seamanship, whose patriotism and resourcefulness made him of inestimable value in the Kaiser's naval service.
Had Max happened to be a few years older, he might have counted upon rapid promotion; he might even, in spite of his inexperience and lack of technical training, have been given the full command of a submarine, or been appointed as a Zeppelin officer, charged with the duty of voyaging in an airship across to England to drop incendiary bombs upon enemy towns.
But owing to his extreme youth he could not at present hold a higher rank than that of midshipman, even though his actual duties were those of a sub-lieutenant.
Still, as Max himself realised, it was better to be serving as a junior officer in a submarine and doing important work for the Fatherland than to be tramping the quarter-deck of an idle battleship with no immediate chance of fighting.
They had met now, quite unexpectedly, on the quay at Brunsbuttel, at the western outlet of the Kiel Canal. Max had just come ashore from the U50, which had entered from the sea and been moored alongside of other submarines within the massive lock gates. He had been marching along the stone parapet, feeling very important in his naval uniform, with its gold lace and brass buttons, and proudly conscious of the Iron Cross which dangled conspicuously from his expanded chest.
Seamen and marines saluted him ceremoniously as he strode proudly past them; he, himself, saluted all officers of higher rank than his own. As he turned sharply round the corner of the custom-house, he came almost full tilt against Admiral von Hilliger, resplendent in gold lace, medals, epaulettes, and cocked hat, and escorted by two flag officers.
Max clipped his heels together and saluted. The admiral flung out his arms.
"Ach, my dear Max," he cried, embracing the embarrassed midshipman, "how it rejoices me once again to see you! It is good we have met. In one hour I should have been gone across to Wilhelmshaven, and you would have missed me. Come! You will take midday eating with me. There is much that we have to say to each other."
Max followed him and the two officers through intricate passages between huge stacks of ammunition boxes and naval stores, and across an open pavement to the front of an hotel. Here the two officers stood aside, and Max went past them with his uncle up the steps and into a little room whose windows looked out upon the grey estuary of the Elbe and the distant fleet.
Admiral von Hilliger turned the key of the door, glanced behind a curtain, and even into a cupboard, to assure himself that he was alone with his nephew; then took his stand in front of the stove and lighted a very long cigar.
"During the seven minutes before lunch," he began, "we will talk business. What have you been doing in the past two weeks? How many more of the mischievous enemy's ships have you sunk with your brave submarine?"
Max did not answer immediately.
"Lieutenant Körner has prepared his report," he said presently. "I am his subordinate. It is not for me to account for what he has done. We have not been idle."
"But Lieutenant Körner is not here," pursued the admiral, "and I wish to know what ships have been sunk. How many of their dreadnoughts have you sent to the bottom of the German Ocean since last we met?"
"None, sir," Max answered. "Those which we have seen have been too well guarded for us to approach them within striking distance. We sank a Swedish steamer carrying timber to the Thames, a British collier coming out of the Tyne. We lay in wait three days to torpedo a Harwich passenger boat, which slipped past us, after all. Many steamers have escaped us by their higher speed and their manoeuvring. Even the English patrol-trawlers now carry guns; but we have accounted for four of them."
"Good," nodded the admiral. "I would have every one of their wretched fishing boats swept off the seas. They are our worst enemies. Do not be deceived by their seeming innocence, my dear Max. While they are fishing, they are also watching and carrying information. Sink them—sink them without warning, without mercy. Naturally you have not allowed any of their crews to escape?"
Max glanced into the admiral's red-bearded face.
"But yes," he admitted. "In each case we have given them time to take to their boats."
"Thunder and lightning!" exclaimed his uncle, stamping a heavy foot. "This will not do. You must not permit your ridiculous scruples of humanity to interfere with your duty—the duty of sinking every vessel you can find, with every one in her. Let none escape. Remember that every ship now sailing the seas is either an enemy or a friend of the enemy, whose purpose it is to help the hateful English and to do harm to our beloved Fatherland!"
He puffed desperately at his cigar as if with the intention of finishing it as speedily as possible.
"Listen, my dear Max," he went on. "In future you shall put aside all scruple. Give no warning of your intentions, give no time for escape; but with gun or torpedo, sink, sink, sink without a moment's mercy!"
Max had fixed his gaze into the glowing coals of the open stove. Suddenly he looked up once again into his uncle's face.
"But, suppose, sir, that there are women and children in the ship; are they, too, to be sacrificed?" he quietly asked.
Admiral von Hilliger gasped in astonishment at the suggestion.
"Women?" he cried. "Will you never understand that women can be as mischievous as men? Do you not realise that our enemies' children will grow up to be enemy men and women? Bah! Do not make such a mistake. We are engaged in war, and war has its necessities. The British people know their own danger. If they go upon the seas, it is at their own risks. We cannot discriminate between the innocent and the guilty. All, indeed, are guilty if they so much as set foot upon a British ship."
He strode to and fro restlessly in front of the stove.
"And now," he pursued, after a pause, "what else have you done? What have you learnt of the enemy's navy? You have been along their coasts; you have entered their rivers and peeped into their harbours. Where are their battleships?"
"It would be easier to tell you where they are not," returned Max. "They are not assembled in the Straits of Dover, or off the Dogger Bank, or off Haddisport. We have not been able to find them. And yet,mein Herr, I will undertake to say that if our own Great High Sea Fleet were to sally out beyond the protection of our mine-fields it would not go far before a squadron of British Dreadnoughts flashed out to give battle."
Admiral von Hilliger laughed awkwardly.
"My dear Max," he said with forced lightness, "I perceive that you are still tainted with your false ideas of Britain's strength upon the seas. You must remember that our German fleet is as yet practically intact. We are as strong as we were at the beginning of the war, and as ready to meet the British whenever they choose to come out of their hiding-places. What you tell me is satisfactory, however. You assure me once again that the enemy are in close hiding and that they are afraid to come out and meet us in a pitched battle. Your remark that they will pounce upon us, once we leave the protection of our mine-fields, is very funny. Already they have proved many times that they prefer the security of their own harbours rather than the risk of facing our guns. We have given them chances; we will give them chances again. But not in the way they would wish. Listen, my dear Max, I will tell you something."
Max went nearer to him. The admiral cautiously lowered his voice.
"Our agents have been doing good work," he said. "Helped by your all-knowing father, they have given away information upon which the British Admiralty will act. The information, I need hardly tell you, is false and misleading. But what would you? War is war, and to deceive and mislead your enemy is one of the essentials of successful strategy. Is it not true? Well, then, we have to-day issued a secret report that a squadron of our battleships has crept out, and is now cruising off the coast of Norway. The Norwegian people have helped us by declaring that already they have heard the thunder of our naval guns at sea. An hour ago, we received word that the British Fleet has gone off in force towards Norway."
"Yes," Max nodded. "It has gone out on what we call a wild-goose chase, you mean? But in what way shall we benefit?"
Admiral von Hilliger puffed more vigorously than ever at his cigar.
"Is it not obvious to you, my dear?" he questioned. "By alluring them out of their harbours, we make our path clear. We take our great ships across to England and do our worst. It is all arranged. We start to-day—this evening. To-morrow morning, while their gunboats are vainly searching for a phantom fleet in Norwegian waters, our invincible battleships will be engaged in firing their shells into the fortified seaports of Newcastle and Hull."
Max Hilliger allowed himself to smile.
"It is a mere detail that neither Hull nor Newcastle happens to be a fortified town," he ventured. "But there will be no military advantage in such a bombardment. The sinking of one battle cruiser would be to us worth the destruction of half a dozen towns. What good did we do by smashing a few windows in Haddisport? We gained nothing to balance the waste of ammunition and the loss of one of our own ships that ran up against one of our own floating mines! Believe me, my uncle, the English people are not easily frightened. It will take more than an hour's bombardment of their seaside villas to put them in a state of panic."
"In that case," returned the admiral, "we shall take yet stronger measures to convince them of our frightfulness. This time, we shall take with us our most powerful battleships. We shall show them that it is we and not they who hold command of the seas."
He flung his unfinished cigar into the stove and drew his nephew to the window.
"Look once out there," he said, pointing across the sea to where the Kaiser's fleet could be dimly seen on the far horizon. "If the contemptible English could but open their eyes upon those ships, do you suppose that they would any longer dare to boast of their own paltry navy?Ach, my dear Max, wait! To-morrow you shall see!"