CHAPTER XXX.DREADNOUGHT AGAINST DREADNOUGHT.In the afternoon of that same bleak January day the U50 was warped out of the Kiel Canal. Her petrol tanks had been filled, she had taken in fresh water and stores, and now she was bound for Heligoland, there to receive a new supply of torpedoes and explosive bombs before resuming her work of preying upon merchant shipping in the British Seas.From the cliffs of the fortified island, Max Hilliger watched the squadron of German battleships going out. There were four great Dreadnought cruisers—Brandenburg,Lessing,Mozart, andGoethe—with six light cruisers of theKotzbueclass, and a flotilla of torpedo-boat destroyers. As they threaded their way through the secret lanes of the mine-field, he could hear their bands playing patriotic German music. He watched them until they disappeared into the night darkness.They were timed so that by steaming across the North Sea at twenty-five knot speed they would be within gun-range of the English coast at earliest dawn.Until shortly after midnight, when, with all lights out, they were crossing the Dogger Bank, the German commanders had no suspicion that their movements had been observed. Even with the most careful watch they failed to detect the low black shapes of a patrol of British destroyers rushing westward in advance of them.At half-past seven on that wintry Sunday morning, the destroyers were already in communication with a great squadron of British Dreadnoughts and cruisers assembled, with steam up, hardly a score of miles ahead of them to the north-west. Signals were flashed back to the flotilla to give chase to the enemy, and, while keeping him in sight, report his movements.Rodney Redisham was in his bunk in the light cruiserDauntlesswhen the bugle sounded "General Quarters." He dressed quickly in his warmest winter clothing and went up on deck. There was a film of mist across the sea. The air was very cold, and a powder of rime frost lay white upon the rails, the gun covers, and all upper works."The enemy is out!" one of his fellow midshipmen gleefully told him. "I believe we have nabbed him, this time."Every man of the ship's company was alert and inwardly excited at the prospect of an engagement. The decks were cleared for action, guns were loaded; everything was got ready. Rodney climbed up to the forward fire-control platform.From this position he could see the whole of the British battle squadron as the ships took their places in the line of pursuit, led by the vice-admiral's big flagship, theSaturn. She was closely followed by theAvenger, thePatroclus, theTremendous, and theAuckland—five formidable floating fortresses, each carrying eight 13.5-inch guns. Supporting these Dreadnoughts were theSarpedon, theAthene, theRutland, and other light cruisers, escorted by destroyers. They were steering to the south-east, working up their speed to a uniform twenty-five knots.Word soon came back from the advance scouts that the enemy had turned tail. The Germans had rightly judged that a small flotilla of destroyers would not alone and unsupported give chase to a squadron of great battleships, but that they were the screen of a larger force.Admiral von Hilliger had boasted that he was thirsty to come to grips with the British fleet, but he was less eager now that his valour was put to the test. He could bring out a squadron to bombard undefended towns, but, menaced by an enemy who could hit back, he realised that his game was up. And so, turning tail, he ran off on a bee line for the shelter of Heligoland and its protecting mine-fields.The black smoke from his squadron's funnels was seen blurring the clean line of the horizon. There were about a hundred and twenty miles of open sea between him and safety, and behind him, like a pack of vengeful wolves at his heels, rushed an enemy squadron swifter and more formidable than his own.And now the British ships, forming into line abreast and avoiding the immediate wake of the Germans, piled up yet more steam, tearing through the water with their bows smothered in white spray as their whirling turbines worked up their speed to the twenty-eight knot gait of which the slowest vessel was capable.Long before they came within sight of their quarry, every man was at his battle station. All were behind armour: the fire-control parties at their instruments, the gun-layers with their guns ready to train upon the first visible target, the hydraulic engines in the turrets pumping and grunting.The chase across the Dogger Bank was a long one; but the greater speed of the British ships steadily lessened the dividing distance, the confused cloud of smoke gradually separated into distinct plumes, masts and funnels took shape, and at length the enemy's hulls loomed into view and the guns began to speak.The ranges were sent down from the fire-control platforms, the dials indicated what projectiles were to be used. It was each ship to its kind, Dreadnought against Dreadnought, cruiser against cruiser, destroyer against destroyer.TheSaturn, leading the British line, opened fire upon theGoethe, the slowest and rearmost, as well as the biggest of the German battleships. With a crimson flash and a dense burst of smoke from their muzzles, the two great guns in the flagship's forward turret thundered forth, and two monster lyddite shells seemed to tear the very air into ribbons as they went screeching through the mist with their message of challenge.Following the flagship came the mightyAvenger, with thePatroclusclose on her heels, theTremendousnext, and then theAuckland.Very soon theSaturnoverhauled the slowGoethe, and in passing gave her a broadside, which carried away her bridge and caused frightful damage on board. But theSaturn'schosen quarry was far ahead, and she sped on with ever-increasing speed with the object of bringing to action the fastest ships of the fugitive enemy.Already it was obvious that theGoethewas doomed. Each of the British battleships as she passed gave her a broadside, leaving her to be finally dealt with by the light cruisers.The chase had continued for over two hours. Far in advance, the British Dreadnoughts were engaged in a fierce running fight with the German battleships, pounding them incessantly.The fire of theBrandenburgand theLessinggrew weaker and weaker. Masses of flames were sweeping their decks, their upper works were a confusion of wreckage. All that their commanders could hope for now was to reach the sanctuary of the German mine-field before their relentless foes should overtake and totally destroy them.The third vessel in the German line, theMozart, suffered even more severely. She had come under the long-range fire of each of the British battleships in turn. One after another her guns had been smashed out of action until she was silenced and could do no more than steam desperately for shelter, with the whole of her after-deck ablaze. Boats were launched, and many of her people jumped overboard to escape the awful inferno.In the meantime, the British flagship was running perilously near to the German mine-field. At any moment there might be a terrific explosion under her keel. Yet still she went on. So thick was the air around her with black oil-smoke and the dense fumes from her guns that she sent out her signals by flashlight.One of theMozart'scrowded lifeboats fell into her track. Her course was promptly altered, and there was the curious spectacle of a great battleship, while firing death and destruction into an enemy, steering aside to avoid running down one of that enemy's boats.To the risk of hitting an explosive mine was added the danger from several submarines which had come out from Heligoland to cover the retreat of the battleships. The U50 was amongst them, and Max Hilliger, helping Lieutenant Körner, very nearly succeeded in planting a torpedo in theSaturn'shull.The pursuit could not be continued with safety, and accordingly the three damaged Dreadnoughts were allowed to escape beyond range, while theSaturnturned her attention to the enemy cruisers in their wake, working round to head them off and drive them down upon the English light cruisers hotly pursuing them.It was while the British flagship was thus engaged that a shell from theWurzburgstruck her below the water-line, so damaging one of her feed tanks that her speed was reduced and she was obliged to call for assistance. ThePatroclusat once took her in tow, and her withdrawal from the battle enabled the German light cruisers to escape.There was no ship in the whole of the British squadron which was not at some time engaged with an opponent; but not one German vessel gave as much as she received. Most of them were seriously crippled, and many of them had the greatest difficulty in limping home.The fate of theGoethewas sealed from the first. Although she was the biggest of the German ships, she was at the same time the slowest, and she had been left behind to bear her own burden unhelped.The guns of ship after ship had been turned upon her with terrible effect. Shells had been poured upon her from all quarters, spreading devastation on board and death amongst her crew. It was only the great strength of her armoured belt which enabled her for so long to withstand the battering she received from the British heavy guns, and still to keep afloat.Her upper works were smashed out of all semblance to the fittings of a ship. Amidships, she was a raging furnace; yet she still floated on an even keel, sinking very slowly, while from her bent and shattered mast her flag bravely fluttered.TheDauntlessapproached her, circling round. From his post in the fire-control, Rodney Redisham could see the men crowded on the doomed battleship's after-decks. They were waiting for the expected end, all wearing lifebelts. Then, as theDauntlesscame abreast of her, a torpedo was fired. It crashed through the thick plates amidships.TheGoetheshuddered, and heeled over until her decks were almost awash. There was a sudden roar as she turned on her side. Then with a plunge she went to the bottom.This was the end of the great battle, and the British light cruisers and destroyers devoted themselves to the work of picking up survivors.They were thus occupied when a huge airship and a number of aeroplanes came out from Heligoland. Avoiding the battleships and cruisers, which might have turned their guns upon them, the aircraft made for the destroyers and attacked them by dropping bombs into their midst. The work of rescue could not be continued under such an attack, and the destroyers scattered, each with its party of rescued Germans.None of the British ships had been damaged beyond repair, and the number of casualties was very small. An officer and fourteen men had been killed, and three officers and about thirty men were wounded. Greater speed, greater weight and range of guns, and better marksmanship had told in favour of the British.The Germans, indeed, had received a very sound and thorough whipping in punishment for their attempt to rush over to England and bombard undefended towns. But more than all they received a proof of Great Britain's invincible power upon the seas.It was not until many days afterwards that Max Hilliger again met his uncle in one of the corridors of the German naval headquarters in Wilhelmshaven."Well, my dear Max," began the admiral, "and what is now your opinion of your friends the English? We gave them a pretty run for their money, eh?"Max nodded, not being quite sure of his uncle's humour."And they appear to have caught you,mein Herr," he responded. "Our ships have not such speed as theirs. That is a grave disadvantage."Admiral von Hilliger shrugged his shoulders."In future we shall use oil fuel," he said. "The necessary alteration in our machinery will be quite easy.""Then there is their superiority in guns, sir," ventured Max. "Their guns not only throw a heavier shell than ours, but they are also of much longer range. I am told that theGoethewas smashed almost to pieces before she could so much as touch one of the British Dreadnoughts.""That fault can be remedied," declared the admiral. "Already we are having larger guns made. And, remember, we are having many new ships built. They will have guns such as the English have never dreamt of.""And in the meantime," said Max, "I suppose our great fleet will lie idle in the Kiel Canal?""In the meantime," rejoined the admiral, "we have our Zeppelins and our submarines. Make no mistake, my dear Max, Great Britain's attempt to blockade our ports will not affect us in the least. We, on the contrary, can starve Great Britain. We shall throw a ring of submarines all round their wretched islands, so that no single ship can enter or leave their seaports."Max smiled."They will be equal with us, even then," he boldly declared. "With submarines you cannot hope to hold command of the seas. Besides, to prey upon merchant shipping—neutral ships as well as British—is not war, it is rank piracy."Admiral von Hilliger laughed."Piracy?" he repeated. "In that case, you shall yourself be one of our pirate chiefs. You shall fly the Jolly Roger. But I do not care what you call yourself so long as you make yourself a terror of the seas. It is what His Majesty the Kaiser wishes you to be. He wishes you to sink their hateful Dreadnoughts, their troopships, their fishing boats, their cargo steamers, and even their passenger liners, wherever they can be found."Max looked up into his uncle's puffy blue eyes."Their passenger liners?" he repeated in amazement. "Do you say that such is the Kaiser's wish? But that would be murder!""Hush! my dear Max," cried the admiral. "We must not call it by so unpleasant a name as that. The whole thing is very different if we call it simply submarine warfare.""And suppose I refuse?" demanded Max.Again Admiral von Hilliger shrugged his shoulders."Then you will be arrested for mutiny," he declared coldly. "And the penalty for mutiny is death. Do you understand? The penalty is an ignominious death."Max was silent for some moments. At last he said:"I prefer to suffer the penalty."But already the admiral had turned away, not hearing the words.CHAPTER XXXI.SUBMARINES AT WORK."Glad to see as you're able to get about again, sir."Constable Challis, patrolling the esplanade, had come to a halt beside an invalid's bath-chair in which old Mr. Croucher sat, gripping an unopened newspaper in his thin, white fingers. The bath-chair had been drawn up against the rail so that the invalid might have an uninterrupted view of the sea. Not far from it a boy in Sea Scout's uniform stood watching a company of Territorials busily digging trenches on the lower level of the denes."It must be quite a couple of months since you was out here last," continued the policeman."It is just two months and three days," returned Mr. Croucher, leaning back with a weary sigh. "It was on the morning after the first Zeppelin raid, you remember. Yes, I am much better; but this last attack has been quite the worst I have known—rheumatism, Challis, rheumatism. I should hardly have come out even on a fine morning like this, only that Seth Newruck, here, kindly offered to wheel my bath-chair, my man having enlisted."He paused as if exhausted by so long a speech."I see changes, Challis," he resumed. "Many changes. Most of the villas are tenantless. People are at last realising the danger of an invasion. Even Mrs. Daplin-Gennery has taken flight. Where has she gone, Challis?""Buxton, sir," the constable answered."Ah, well inland! The enemy will not reach so far as that until England is conquered.""Which isn't at all likely," added Challis."I don't feel so sure about that," retorted Mr. Croucher. "Everything seems to point to the probability that the Germans will land sooner or later. Look at what the War Office are doing here! Look at that long line of trenches and the breastworks. Look at all these soldiers!""Yes, sir," nodded the constable, "we're beginnin' to look quite military, aren't we?""Military? I call it desperately warlike," declared the invalid. "Those trenches are not being so carefully dug merely to give training to the Territorials. They are being made for military use. Such elaborate defences would be a waste of time and material if there were not grave danger. It is clear that the authorities expect them to land just here."Constable Challis leant his folded arms on the rail."You may take it from me, sir," he said, reassuringly, "that it's only a reasonable precaution. The same sort of defence work is going on at other places—at Buremouth and Eastwold."But Mr. Croucher shook his head obstinately."Not to the same extent, Challis," he insisted. "I am told that there are twenty thousand soldiers assembled within easy reach of Haddisport. That is not simple precaution. It is preparation—preparation for an armed resistance. And look at these stockades and redoubts, or whatever they call them—battlements—fortifications! Look at the loopholes for heavy guns, and the sandbags! I suppose the guns themselves are lying ready somewhere close at hand, with the shells to fire them with.""Yes, sir," Challis nodded. "They are all handy in the grounds of Sunnydene. Tons of 'em.""Dear me, dear me!" said Mr. Croucher in consternation.Seth Newruck had turned the bath-chair so that its occupant could have a fuller view of the embrasures and their connecting palisades of corrugated iron. "It isn't so very long ago, sir," Seth reminded him mischievously, "since you argued that there ought to be heavy guns stationed all along the East Coast. And now that they are putting up a few fortifications, you take alarm.""Alarm?" repeated Mr. Croucher. "But isn't it enough to cause alarm? Why, it's just as good as an advertisement of the fact that the enemy's transports and cruisers may be expected any day, any hour!""What amuses me," added Constable Challis, "is that all those packin' cases which they have filled with sea sand, makin' them like blocks of granite, are really fish boxes belongin' to the Germans themselves. Before the war they were the property of a firm of German fish curers. You can read the name of 'Hilliger and Co.' on every one of 'em!""Hilliger? Ah!" cried Mr. Croucher, "That man Hilliger, I am convinced, has been working towards this war for years past. He ought never to have been allowed to carry on his business in Haddisport. It was only a blind—a blind to cover his underhand work of spying and intrigue. Where is he now, Challis—do you know?""Over in his own country, I suppose," answered the constable. "But here's young Mark Redisham comin' along. He knows a lot more about these things than I do."Mark Redisham had paused to look out upon the sea at a patrol trawler in which he appeared to be greatly interested. When he came nearer and saw Seth Newruck and the two men he saluted and again paused."The enemy seem to have been pretty close," he observed, speaking especially to his fellow scout."Yes," returned Seth. "It looks as if there were a submarine somewhere near.""And it has been doing some damage," rejoined Mark."Eh? What's that?" interrogated Mr. Croucher. "A German submarine? Where? How do you know?"Mark explained, indicating the trawler."Well, sir," he said. "She's flying the signal to say so. That red flag with the ball beneath it means that there's a submarine in the neighbourhood. But as well as that, she has more men in her than her own crew. I expect she has rescued them from some ship that the submarine has torpedoed.""Dear me!" exclaimed Mr. Croucher. "We shall have no ships left soon if this sort of thing goes on much longer! Can't the navy put a stop to it? Even the enemy's battleships are doing less harm than their submarines. It's simply terrible!""Between ourselves," remarked Constable Challis, "it's nothing but silly spite and disappointment that makes them sink our ships. They can't touch our cruisers now, so they sneak about sendin' our merchant vessels to the bottom. Yesterday I came upon some boys tryin' to get at a bird's nest. When they saw they couldn't manage it, they began to throw stones at it. That's the way the Germans do. Silly spite; that's all."Mark Redisham went down the town, keeping step with a battalion of Territorials marching behind their band. When he arrived at the harbour the trawler which he had watched from the cliff was coming in. She had picked up sixteen men drifting in open boats. Their ship, thePriscilla, a cargo steamer bound for one of the northern ports, had been sunk by an enemy submarine.Early in the morning thePriscillahad been going under easy steam when a submarine had come to the surface a little distance away on the starboard side, hoisting the German flag and signalling to the steamer to stop.Instead of obeying, the English captain put on full speed and steered a zig-zag course with such skill that the submarine soon dropped astern, unable to keep pace with him or to aim at him with her torpedoes or even her deck guns.The captain was congratulating himself and his engineer on their lucky escape when suddenly a second submarine popped up right in front of his vessel's bows. This time he was obliged to stop his engines, for he saw a gun rise from its chamber on the submarine's deck. Two officers stood on the platform of the conning-tower.One of them called out in perfect English, asking where the steamer was bound for, what was her cargo, and where was the British fleet?"I'm sorry to cause inconvenience," the German added, "but you must remember this is war. I shall have to sink you. I will give you ten minutes to get clear of the steamer. Get as many of your belongings together as you can and take to your boats."While the crew were hastily putting their clothing and personal possessions into their kit bags, and launching the two boats, the captain was ordered to produce his ship's papers. He observed as the submarine drew alongside that both officers wore the Iron Cross, and that one of them was hardly more than a boy."You can take some food and water with you," said the younger, "and if you steer north-west you will probably come upon some fishing boats that may help you."The crew had rowed a short distance away from their steamer when they saw a couple of German sailors go on board of her with what looked like explosive bombs. A few minutes afterwards they returned empty-handed, the submarine backed away. There was a loud explosion on board thePriscillaand she rapidly sank.The submarine then went off at high speed, and as she did so a couple of dummy funnels were raised on her deck, false bulwarks at bow and stern were rigged up, and with a pair of masts and with smoke curling from the funnels she had all the appearance of a heavily laden steamer."You didn't happen to notice her number, did you, captain?" Arnold Bilverstone inquired, when the master of thePriscillawas narrating his experience to the officers in the naval base at Haddisport."Well, it was painted over," the captain explained, "and an eye was painted in its stead. But under the paint I could make out the raised figures U50.""Then the younger of those two officers was Max Hilliger," decided Mark Redisham; and Mr. Bilverstone agreed.Later on that same day, or rather in the evening, Mark Redisham was again at the naval base. Just at about dusk a wireless message was received, intimating that two enemy submarines were in the neighbourhood.The air was calm and clear and the sea smooth. Half a dozen of the most powerful telescopes and marine glasses were engaged by as many expert watchers in sweeping the sea, while at the end of the pier a naval gun was charged and a crew of experienced marksmen were at the breech ready to train it on the instant if the Germans' periscopes should be sighted.Mark Redisham was the first to discover a ripple on the water some three miles away, but it was one of the officers who determined that the ripple was caused by the movement of a half-submerged submarine. It was apparently making towards Alderwick Roads, where half a dozen patrol trawlers lay at anchor.The light was gradually fading, but the moving target was still visible. The gun was laid. For months back, at intervals, it had been brought into practice upon a mark less easily seen than the one upon which it was pointed at this moment, and the gunner who now controlled its aim had never been known to fail.The lever was pressed. The shell shrieked forth. Then there was a terrific explosion which shook the windows of the town as the submarine was struck and sent to its doom.An electric launch was sent out to pick up possible survivors, but all that could be seen was a slimy film of oil on the water's surface.From the pier as the boat went out, the periscopes of the second submarine were sighted, but before the gun could be trained it had disappeared.CHAPTER XXXII.U50'S WORST CRIME."This second submarine was the U50."It's that naval gun on Haddisport pier that I warned you of," said Max Hilliger, as the vessel submerged and her electric motors were turned on. "We ought not to have come in so close. I believe those mine-sweepers in the Roads must have discovered us. Most of them are fitted with wireless masts. No, it's no use trying to rescue our friends. They couldn't have escaped after an explosion like that. We had better remain submerged and get away from the coast as quickly as we can."Lieutenant Körner was inconsolable over the loss of the other submarine. They had been working in partnership for several days past, sinking fishing boats more especially and using explosive bombs rather than wasting expensive torpedoes.This use of bombs had necessitated the stopping of their intended victims. Having stopped and boarded them, there had always come the difficulty of dealing with their crews.If you send a torpedo into an enemy ship from a discreet distance there is no question of sparing life. A submarine could not in any case encumber herself with prisoners. But when you have to speak to the vessel's skipper and have been polite to him, the matter is different. Even a German commander can hardly refuse to give him and his ship's company a chance of saving their lives.Max Hilliger was greatly in favour of using bombs. He did not advance any serious scruples against the destruction of property; but he had been educated in England, he still retained a sense of honour and fairness, and he drew the line at taking the lives of innocent and unoffending seamen.This was the rock upon which he and Lieutenant Hermann Körner split. Körner was not burdened with any of his subordinate's English ideas of humanity. He hated the English, and everything British. Like most Germans, he had persuaded himself that the war had been begun entirely by Great Britain; that Germany had never wanted to go to war. He resolutely closed his mind to the fact that his country had for many years been preparing for war, and seeking for a cause to pick a quarrel with Great Britain so that, being fully prepared, she might fall upon her and smash her.Above all, he hated Great Britain because of her supremacy upon the seas. She had put a stop to German commerce and held Germany's great navy in a firm grip; therefore he considered that it was his highest patriotic duty to go about stealthily in his submarine destroying British shipping regardless of whether the ships he sank were armed for defence or were peaceful, unoffending fishing smacks.He would have preferred it if all the vessels which came within reach of his torpedoes were ships of war; so that by sinking them he might lessen the overpowering strength of the British Navy.But he had discovered long ago that the British naval officers and seamen were even more clever in protecting themselves from sudden attack than the Germans were in taking them by surprise.Many times the U50 had been taken with other German submarines and torpedo boats to lie concealed in the narrow seas in the hope of being able to sink some of our transports carrying troops and munitions across to France; but they had always been frustrated or outwitted.Lieutenant Körner found that it was much more easy to lurk submerged in the tideways of commerce and to attack undefended merchant ships or fishing boats. Had not Max Hilliger sometimes opposed him, he would never have allowed a crew to escape. Max, however, held to one unvarying argument."What we are ordered to do," he declared, "is to help to overcome the enemy by starvation—preventing their ships from carrying food and other merchandise into their seaports. And if we sink the ships and their cargoes there is no further advantage to be gained by taking also the lives of their crews. Give their men at least a chance to escape in their boats."Sometimes when the vessel attacked was of little importance, and especially if she happened to be a neutral, Körner yielded and gave the crew time to abandon their doomed ship. But if the vessel were fitted with wireless masts, if she appeared to be armed, or if she offered any resistance, he showed no mercy, but came within gun range and opened fire upon her. It was only the very large ships against which he fired a torpedo. It is of one such exploit that I am now going to tell you.Leaving the neighbourhood of Haddisport, the U50 crossed the North Sea and made her secret way down the Dutch coast to Flanders. Avoiding the British mine-field and keeping carefully out of the way of the British naval patrols, she was taken into the German submarine harbour at Zeebrugge, where she remained for some days, having her instruments cleaned and tested, her torpedo chambers replenished, and taking in stores for a long voyage.Lieutenant Körner behaved rather mysteriously towards Max Hilliger during this time. He had many consultations with staff officers and with the commanders of other submarines, and refused to inform Max what was in the wind. All that he would admit was the fact that they were going out under sealed orders, which were not to be opened until they should reach a point somewhere to the westward of Land's End.The point indicated on their chart was in the midst of the Scilly Islands. Here, on a certain very dark night, the U50 lay motionless in a calm channel, with only the upper part of her conning-tower above the surface, hardly distinguishable from the surrounding rocks. Hermann Körner was on watch with a pair of powerful binoculars."You appear to be expecting something," remarked Max Hilliger from below. "There can be no enemy ships in a dangerous corner like this.""It is for that reason that I am watching," returned Körner. "Since there can be no enemy near, it is safe for us to enter into communication with our friends.""Spies, I suppose," conjectured Max, peering upward through the darkness."Ah!" exclaimed Körner. "At last; I was searching in the wrong direction."He drew an electric torch from his pocket and began to flash it. It was a wan, green light, which could not have been seen from a great distance. Körner returned the torch to his pocket, closed the trap door of the conning-tower, and descended into the cabin, humming the air of a German folk-song."Well?" said Max."It is all right," nodded Körner. "You can enjoy a good sleep, my friend. You will need it; because for some days and nights to come it is probable we shall both require to have very good eyesight."Max turned into his bunk, but did not at once fall asleep. The intense silence and darkness kept him wakeful. He would much rather have been listening to the busy humming of the electric engines. At about midnight he turned on his pillow and spoke."Hermann!" he called.There was no answer. He lay listening, and from one of the distant compartments there came to him the faint tap-tapping sound of the wireless instrument. It was too faint for him to hear distinctly enough to follow the message; and just as he was beginning to catch a word here and there, it stopped, and there was a long interval of silence, during which he fell asleep, not to be awakened again until late on the following morning. The petrol engines were at work, a dim gleam of daylight came in through the thick glass of an uncovered skylight. A servant was busy laying breakfast on the little table in the middle of the cabin."We are under weigh, then?" cried Max, speaking to the man in German."Ja, mein Herr. Since eight o'clock."Max glanced up at the tell-tale compass above the table, and saw that the course was due west."It is the direction of America,mein Herr," said the servant, following his glance.Max dressed and went out on deck. The dummy funnels and the false bulwarks were raised. There was a ragged red ensign flying from the mast. No land was in sight, and the sea was clear of shipping; but in the wake he presently discovered the swiftly moving periscopes of two other submarines. Lieutenant Körner was on deck, but there were seamen about, and Max suppressed his desire to go up to him and question him.When they were alone together at breakfast, however, he leant across the table and said:"Is there any particular reason why I should not know something of our destination, Herr Körner? I see that there are two others of our undersea boats in our company. Our purpose, whatever it is, must therefore be of importance.""If it succeeds," returned Körner, breaking the top of an egg, "it will be the biggest, most important thing we have ever done, or are ever likely to do. It will send a thrill of astonishment over the whole world. It will prove that the Kaiser's brave submarines are more powerful weapons than any dreadnought that ever was built.""You amaze me," said Max. "I do not understand. I cannot guess. We are making a course westward, leaving England behind. We appear to be going out into the Atlantic Ocean. It is not there that we shall find any British battleships."Lieutenant Körner laughed."Let us hope not," he rejoined. "No, my dear friend. Believe me, it is not battleships that we seek.""What then?" cried Max, nervously clutching at the edge of the table. "You do not mean—you cannot mean—that it is your intention to try to sink an Atlantic liner!""Well guessed!" laughed Körner. "We shall torpedo her—a great liner—the greatest liner—theRuritania."Max Hilliger leapt from his chair."What?" he cried. "Impossible! You cannot be serious.""I was never more serious in my life," Körner assured him. "I tell you we are going to lie in her track—we and our two companion submarines. We shall station ourselves at three different points, one of which she must surely pass. And then, when she comes in sight, we shall creep nearer, unseen, unsuspected, and wait until she draws within range, when we shall take careful aim, making no mistake; and send our torpedoes into her. You see, it is war, my dear child; it is war."Max Hilliger had turned suddenly pale; his eyes were staring wildly, his hands trembled."War?" he repeated. "Do you call it an act of war to sink a great steamship like that—a ship carrying no protective armour, no defensive guns, a ship crowded with innocent passengers, not all English, many of them Americans no doubt, probably scores of women and children. War? War? That is not war, Hermann Körner. It would have no excuse, no justification. It would be crime, I tell you—a horrible, fiendish crime. It would be murder."Lieutenant Körner looked up at him with his egg-spoon poised."Calm yourself, my friend," he urged. "Call it what you will, that has nothing to do with you or with me. It is our part to do our duty by obeying our orders. And we have orders to sink thisRuritania. We shall obey."Max shrugged his shoulders and sat down again, but not to eat."Oh, well!" he said presently. "After all, I need not distress myself perhaps. Her owners, her captain, her passengers have been warned. We shall not even see her. She will steam by another way, and even then be escorted by British cruisers. Otherwise—if I thought there was the merest chance of your doing this horrible thing—I should ask you to put me ashore on the nearest land, or I should pray that we ourselves should be sent to the bottom of the sea."All the rest of that day and through the next night, while the U50 went on her way to take up her appointed position on the steamship route, Max Hilliger thought and brooded, wondering by what possible means he could avert the contemplated crime, even by the sacrifice of his own life.He wondered if he could open some valve so that the submarine should never again rise to the surface; if he could secretly smash or disable some important piece of mechanism, or jam the torpedo tubes. But all the time he knew that if he should attempt such a thing there still remained the other two submarines, either of which might succeed where Hermann Körner had failed.At length the appointed position was reached. The commander occupied himself in making calculations of time and distance. Again and again he examined his instruments and controls, again and again he went through a rehearsal of every act and movement which would be put into practice when, if at all, the fatal moment arrived. Had Max Hilliger tried to disable any of the mechanism he could not have succeeded, so carefully was everything watched, so constantly was he himself kept under observation.He contrived as often as he could to be in the conning-tower; but Körner and the quarter-master were usually at the periscopes, and Max could only watch the two men, hoping, always hoping, that they would discover no sign of the expected liner. By their hardly suppressed excitement he knew that should she be keeping to her usual course and time, she was already due.Suddenly Lieutenant Körner ordered "diving stations." The tanks were filled—the vessel was submerged, and she sped through the dark depths at the fullest speed of her electric motors for about a quarter of an hour, when she again rose. Telegraph signals were rung. The torpedo tubes were charged."Is it theRuritania?" Max panted. He saw that the moment had come."Yes. Quick! Get down into the torpedo chamber."Instead of obeying the command, Max Hilliger snatched his loaded automatic pistol from his belt and leapt like a maddened animal at the commander."Stop!" he shouted. "Stop! Touch that lever and I will shoot you!" He flung himself forward, but a blow from the quarter-master's fist struck him in the face and he wheeled round, lost his balance, and fell. The pistol dropped from his grasp. His brain reeled, yet half consciously he heard the command given: "Fire!" He felt the vessel give a jump as the torpedo left its tube. From somewhere far away he heard a deep, dull explosion. Then, as a second torpedo was discharged, he came to his fuller senses."It is done!" cried Lieutenant Körner with an exultant laugh as he drew back from his periscope.Max Hilliger had risen to his knees. He had seized his fallen pistol and now he levelled the weapon at the commander."God forgive me," he murmured. "But it is less than you deserve."And with that he pressed the trigger, firing point blank at a spot beside the Iron Cross on his companion's breast.Hermann Körner flung up his arms, tumbled backward, and lay upon the grating very still.Dropping his weapon, Max stepped over him and made his way to the periscope. Trembling from head to foot, he yet controlled himself sufficiently to bend over the instrument to adjust its disturbed focus. Reflected in the mirror he saw the image of an immense Atlantic liner with four red funnels, and many decks crowded with people. Her whole vast fabric was heeling over. She seemed to have been struck by the torpedo somewhere amidships."How awful!" he exclaimed.He turned to look once again at the commander lying dead at his feet."God forgive me," he repeated. "But it is less than you deserve."
CHAPTER XXX.
DREADNOUGHT AGAINST DREADNOUGHT.
In the afternoon of that same bleak January day the U50 was warped out of the Kiel Canal. Her petrol tanks had been filled, she had taken in fresh water and stores, and now she was bound for Heligoland, there to receive a new supply of torpedoes and explosive bombs before resuming her work of preying upon merchant shipping in the British Seas.
From the cliffs of the fortified island, Max Hilliger watched the squadron of German battleships going out. There were four great Dreadnought cruisers—Brandenburg,Lessing,Mozart, andGoethe—with six light cruisers of theKotzbueclass, and a flotilla of torpedo-boat destroyers. As they threaded their way through the secret lanes of the mine-field, he could hear their bands playing patriotic German music. He watched them until they disappeared into the night darkness.
They were timed so that by steaming across the North Sea at twenty-five knot speed they would be within gun-range of the English coast at earliest dawn.
Until shortly after midnight, when, with all lights out, they were crossing the Dogger Bank, the German commanders had no suspicion that their movements had been observed. Even with the most careful watch they failed to detect the low black shapes of a patrol of British destroyers rushing westward in advance of them.
At half-past seven on that wintry Sunday morning, the destroyers were already in communication with a great squadron of British Dreadnoughts and cruisers assembled, with steam up, hardly a score of miles ahead of them to the north-west. Signals were flashed back to the flotilla to give chase to the enemy, and, while keeping him in sight, report his movements.
Rodney Redisham was in his bunk in the light cruiserDauntlesswhen the bugle sounded "General Quarters." He dressed quickly in his warmest winter clothing and went up on deck. There was a film of mist across the sea. The air was very cold, and a powder of rime frost lay white upon the rails, the gun covers, and all upper works.
"The enemy is out!" one of his fellow midshipmen gleefully told him. "I believe we have nabbed him, this time."
Every man of the ship's company was alert and inwardly excited at the prospect of an engagement. The decks were cleared for action, guns were loaded; everything was got ready. Rodney climbed up to the forward fire-control platform.
From this position he could see the whole of the British battle squadron as the ships took their places in the line of pursuit, led by the vice-admiral's big flagship, theSaturn. She was closely followed by theAvenger, thePatroclus, theTremendous, and theAuckland—five formidable floating fortresses, each carrying eight 13.5-inch guns. Supporting these Dreadnoughts were theSarpedon, theAthene, theRutland, and other light cruisers, escorted by destroyers. They were steering to the south-east, working up their speed to a uniform twenty-five knots.
Word soon came back from the advance scouts that the enemy had turned tail. The Germans had rightly judged that a small flotilla of destroyers would not alone and unsupported give chase to a squadron of great battleships, but that they were the screen of a larger force.
Admiral von Hilliger had boasted that he was thirsty to come to grips with the British fleet, but he was less eager now that his valour was put to the test. He could bring out a squadron to bombard undefended towns, but, menaced by an enemy who could hit back, he realised that his game was up. And so, turning tail, he ran off on a bee line for the shelter of Heligoland and its protecting mine-fields.
The black smoke from his squadron's funnels was seen blurring the clean line of the horizon. There were about a hundred and twenty miles of open sea between him and safety, and behind him, like a pack of vengeful wolves at his heels, rushed an enemy squadron swifter and more formidable than his own.
And now the British ships, forming into line abreast and avoiding the immediate wake of the Germans, piled up yet more steam, tearing through the water with their bows smothered in white spray as their whirling turbines worked up their speed to the twenty-eight knot gait of which the slowest vessel was capable.
Long before they came within sight of their quarry, every man was at his battle station. All were behind armour: the fire-control parties at their instruments, the gun-layers with their guns ready to train upon the first visible target, the hydraulic engines in the turrets pumping and grunting.
The chase across the Dogger Bank was a long one; but the greater speed of the British ships steadily lessened the dividing distance, the confused cloud of smoke gradually separated into distinct plumes, masts and funnels took shape, and at length the enemy's hulls loomed into view and the guns began to speak.
The ranges were sent down from the fire-control platforms, the dials indicated what projectiles were to be used. It was each ship to its kind, Dreadnought against Dreadnought, cruiser against cruiser, destroyer against destroyer.
TheSaturn, leading the British line, opened fire upon theGoethe, the slowest and rearmost, as well as the biggest of the German battleships. With a crimson flash and a dense burst of smoke from their muzzles, the two great guns in the flagship's forward turret thundered forth, and two monster lyddite shells seemed to tear the very air into ribbons as they went screeching through the mist with their message of challenge.
Following the flagship came the mightyAvenger, with thePatroclusclose on her heels, theTremendousnext, and then theAuckland.
Very soon theSaturnoverhauled the slowGoethe, and in passing gave her a broadside, which carried away her bridge and caused frightful damage on board. But theSaturn'schosen quarry was far ahead, and she sped on with ever-increasing speed with the object of bringing to action the fastest ships of the fugitive enemy.
Already it was obvious that theGoethewas doomed. Each of the British battleships as she passed gave her a broadside, leaving her to be finally dealt with by the light cruisers.
The chase had continued for over two hours. Far in advance, the British Dreadnoughts were engaged in a fierce running fight with the German battleships, pounding them incessantly.
The fire of theBrandenburgand theLessinggrew weaker and weaker. Masses of flames were sweeping their decks, their upper works were a confusion of wreckage. All that their commanders could hope for now was to reach the sanctuary of the German mine-field before their relentless foes should overtake and totally destroy them.
The third vessel in the German line, theMozart, suffered even more severely. She had come under the long-range fire of each of the British battleships in turn. One after another her guns had been smashed out of action until she was silenced and could do no more than steam desperately for shelter, with the whole of her after-deck ablaze. Boats were launched, and many of her people jumped overboard to escape the awful inferno.
In the meantime, the British flagship was running perilously near to the German mine-field. At any moment there might be a terrific explosion under her keel. Yet still she went on. So thick was the air around her with black oil-smoke and the dense fumes from her guns that she sent out her signals by flashlight.
One of theMozart'scrowded lifeboats fell into her track. Her course was promptly altered, and there was the curious spectacle of a great battleship, while firing death and destruction into an enemy, steering aside to avoid running down one of that enemy's boats.
To the risk of hitting an explosive mine was added the danger from several submarines which had come out from Heligoland to cover the retreat of the battleships. The U50 was amongst them, and Max Hilliger, helping Lieutenant Körner, very nearly succeeded in planting a torpedo in theSaturn'shull.
The pursuit could not be continued with safety, and accordingly the three damaged Dreadnoughts were allowed to escape beyond range, while theSaturnturned her attention to the enemy cruisers in their wake, working round to head them off and drive them down upon the English light cruisers hotly pursuing them.
It was while the British flagship was thus engaged that a shell from theWurzburgstruck her below the water-line, so damaging one of her feed tanks that her speed was reduced and she was obliged to call for assistance. ThePatroclusat once took her in tow, and her withdrawal from the battle enabled the German light cruisers to escape.
There was no ship in the whole of the British squadron which was not at some time engaged with an opponent; but not one German vessel gave as much as she received. Most of them were seriously crippled, and many of them had the greatest difficulty in limping home.
The fate of theGoethewas sealed from the first. Although she was the biggest of the German ships, she was at the same time the slowest, and she had been left behind to bear her own burden unhelped.
The guns of ship after ship had been turned upon her with terrible effect. Shells had been poured upon her from all quarters, spreading devastation on board and death amongst her crew. It was only the great strength of her armoured belt which enabled her for so long to withstand the battering she received from the British heavy guns, and still to keep afloat.
Her upper works were smashed out of all semblance to the fittings of a ship. Amidships, she was a raging furnace; yet she still floated on an even keel, sinking very slowly, while from her bent and shattered mast her flag bravely fluttered.
TheDauntlessapproached her, circling round. From his post in the fire-control, Rodney Redisham could see the men crowded on the doomed battleship's after-decks. They were waiting for the expected end, all wearing lifebelts. Then, as theDauntlesscame abreast of her, a torpedo was fired. It crashed through the thick plates amidships.
TheGoetheshuddered, and heeled over until her decks were almost awash. There was a sudden roar as she turned on her side. Then with a plunge she went to the bottom.
This was the end of the great battle, and the British light cruisers and destroyers devoted themselves to the work of picking up survivors.
They were thus occupied when a huge airship and a number of aeroplanes came out from Heligoland. Avoiding the battleships and cruisers, which might have turned their guns upon them, the aircraft made for the destroyers and attacked them by dropping bombs into their midst. The work of rescue could not be continued under such an attack, and the destroyers scattered, each with its party of rescued Germans.
None of the British ships had been damaged beyond repair, and the number of casualties was very small. An officer and fourteen men had been killed, and three officers and about thirty men were wounded. Greater speed, greater weight and range of guns, and better marksmanship had told in favour of the British.
The Germans, indeed, had received a very sound and thorough whipping in punishment for their attempt to rush over to England and bombard undefended towns. But more than all they received a proof of Great Britain's invincible power upon the seas.
It was not until many days afterwards that Max Hilliger again met his uncle in one of the corridors of the German naval headquarters in Wilhelmshaven.
"Well, my dear Max," began the admiral, "and what is now your opinion of your friends the English? We gave them a pretty run for their money, eh?"
Max nodded, not being quite sure of his uncle's humour.
"And they appear to have caught you,mein Herr," he responded. "Our ships have not such speed as theirs. That is a grave disadvantage."
Admiral von Hilliger shrugged his shoulders.
"In future we shall use oil fuel," he said. "The necessary alteration in our machinery will be quite easy."
"Then there is their superiority in guns, sir," ventured Max. "Their guns not only throw a heavier shell than ours, but they are also of much longer range. I am told that theGoethewas smashed almost to pieces before she could so much as touch one of the British Dreadnoughts."
"That fault can be remedied," declared the admiral. "Already we are having larger guns made. And, remember, we are having many new ships built. They will have guns such as the English have never dreamt of."
"And in the meantime," said Max, "I suppose our great fleet will lie idle in the Kiel Canal?"
"In the meantime," rejoined the admiral, "we have our Zeppelins and our submarines. Make no mistake, my dear Max, Great Britain's attempt to blockade our ports will not affect us in the least. We, on the contrary, can starve Great Britain. We shall throw a ring of submarines all round their wretched islands, so that no single ship can enter or leave their seaports."
Max smiled.
"They will be equal with us, even then," he boldly declared. "With submarines you cannot hope to hold command of the seas. Besides, to prey upon merchant shipping—neutral ships as well as British—is not war, it is rank piracy."
Admiral von Hilliger laughed.
"Piracy?" he repeated. "In that case, you shall yourself be one of our pirate chiefs. You shall fly the Jolly Roger. But I do not care what you call yourself so long as you make yourself a terror of the seas. It is what His Majesty the Kaiser wishes you to be. He wishes you to sink their hateful Dreadnoughts, their troopships, their fishing boats, their cargo steamers, and even their passenger liners, wherever they can be found."
Max looked up into his uncle's puffy blue eyes.
"Their passenger liners?" he repeated in amazement. "Do you say that such is the Kaiser's wish? But that would be murder!"
"Hush! my dear Max," cried the admiral. "We must not call it by so unpleasant a name as that. The whole thing is very different if we call it simply submarine warfare."
"And suppose I refuse?" demanded Max.
Again Admiral von Hilliger shrugged his shoulders.
"Then you will be arrested for mutiny," he declared coldly. "And the penalty for mutiny is death. Do you understand? The penalty is an ignominious death."
Max was silent for some moments. At last he said:
"I prefer to suffer the penalty."
But already the admiral had turned away, not hearing the words.
CHAPTER XXXI.
SUBMARINES AT WORK.
"Glad to see as you're able to get about again, sir."
Constable Challis, patrolling the esplanade, had come to a halt beside an invalid's bath-chair in which old Mr. Croucher sat, gripping an unopened newspaper in his thin, white fingers. The bath-chair had been drawn up against the rail so that the invalid might have an uninterrupted view of the sea. Not far from it a boy in Sea Scout's uniform stood watching a company of Territorials busily digging trenches on the lower level of the denes.
"It must be quite a couple of months since you was out here last," continued the policeman.
"It is just two months and three days," returned Mr. Croucher, leaning back with a weary sigh. "It was on the morning after the first Zeppelin raid, you remember. Yes, I am much better; but this last attack has been quite the worst I have known—rheumatism, Challis, rheumatism. I should hardly have come out even on a fine morning like this, only that Seth Newruck, here, kindly offered to wheel my bath-chair, my man having enlisted."
He paused as if exhausted by so long a speech.
"I see changes, Challis," he resumed. "Many changes. Most of the villas are tenantless. People are at last realising the danger of an invasion. Even Mrs. Daplin-Gennery has taken flight. Where has she gone, Challis?"
"Buxton, sir," the constable answered.
"Ah, well inland! The enemy will not reach so far as that until England is conquered."
"Which isn't at all likely," added Challis.
"I don't feel so sure about that," retorted Mr. Croucher. "Everything seems to point to the probability that the Germans will land sooner or later. Look at what the War Office are doing here! Look at that long line of trenches and the breastworks. Look at all these soldiers!"
"Yes, sir," nodded the constable, "we're beginnin' to look quite military, aren't we?"
"Military? I call it desperately warlike," declared the invalid. "Those trenches are not being so carefully dug merely to give training to the Territorials. They are being made for military use. Such elaborate defences would be a waste of time and material if there were not grave danger. It is clear that the authorities expect them to land just here."
Constable Challis leant his folded arms on the rail.
"You may take it from me, sir," he said, reassuringly, "that it's only a reasonable precaution. The same sort of defence work is going on at other places—at Buremouth and Eastwold."
But Mr. Croucher shook his head obstinately.
"Not to the same extent, Challis," he insisted. "I am told that there are twenty thousand soldiers assembled within easy reach of Haddisport. That is not simple precaution. It is preparation—preparation for an armed resistance. And look at these stockades and redoubts, or whatever they call them—battlements—fortifications! Look at the loopholes for heavy guns, and the sandbags! I suppose the guns themselves are lying ready somewhere close at hand, with the shells to fire them with."
"Yes, sir," Challis nodded. "They are all handy in the grounds of Sunnydene. Tons of 'em."
"Dear me, dear me!" said Mr. Croucher in consternation.
Seth Newruck had turned the bath-chair so that its occupant could have a fuller view of the embrasures and their connecting palisades of corrugated iron. "It isn't so very long ago, sir," Seth reminded him mischievously, "since you argued that there ought to be heavy guns stationed all along the East Coast. And now that they are putting up a few fortifications, you take alarm."
"Alarm?" repeated Mr. Croucher. "But isn't it enough to cause alarm? Why, it's just as good as an advertisement of the fact that the enemy's transports and cruisers may be expected any day, any hour!"
"What amuses me," added Constable Challis, "is that all those packin' cases which they have filled with sea sand, makin' them like blocks of granite, are really fish boxes belongin' to the Germans themselves. Before the war they were the property of a firm of German fish curers. You can read the name of 'Hilliger and Co.' on every one of 'em!"
"Hilliger? Ah!" cried Mr. Croucher, "That man Hilliger, I am convinced, has been working towards this war for years past. He ought never to have been allowed to carry on his business in Haddisport. It was only a blind—a blind to cover his underhand work of spying and intrigue. Where is he now, Challis—do you know?"
"Over in his own country, I suppose," answered the constable. "But here's young Mark Redisham comin' along. He knows a lot more about these things than I do."
Mark Redisham had paused to look out upon the sea at a patrol trawler in which he appeared to be greatly interested. When he came nearer and saw Seth Newruck and the two men he saluted and again paused.
"The enemy seem to have been pretty close," he observed, speaking especially to his fellow scout.
"Yes," returned Seth. "It looks as if there were a submarine somewhere near."
"And it has been doing some damage," rejoined Mark.
"Eh? What's that?" interrogated Mr. Croucher. "A German submarine? Where? How do you know?"
Mark explained, indicating the trawler.
"Well, sir," he said. "She's flying the signal to say so. That red flag with the ball beneath it means that there's a submarine in the neighbourhood. But as well as that, she has more men in her than her own crew. I expect she has rescued them from some ship that the submarine has torpedoed."
"Dear me!" exclaimed Mr. Croucher. "We shall have no ships left soon if this sort of thing goes on much longer! Can't the navy put a stop to it? Even the enemy's battleships are doing less harm than their submarines. It's simply terrible!"
"Between ourselves," remarked Constable Challis, "it's nothing but silly spite and disappointment that makes them sink our ships. They can't touch our cruisers now, so they sneak about sendin' our merchant vessels to the bottom. Yesterday I came upon some boys tryin' to get at a bird's nest. When they saw they couldn't manage it, they began to throw stones at it. That's the way the Germans do. Silly spite; that's all."
Mark Redisham went down the town, keeping step with a battalion of Territorials marching behind their band. When he arrived at the harbour the trawler which he had watched from the cliff was coming in. She had picked up sixteen men drifting in open boats. Their ship, thePriscilla, a cargo steamer bound for one of the northern ports, had been sunk by an enemy submarine.
Early in the morning thePriscillahad been going under easy steam when a submarine had come to the surface a little distance away on the starboard side, hoisting the German flag and signalling to the steamer to stop.
Instead of obeying, the English captain put on full speed and steered a zig-zag course with such skill that the submarine soon dropped astern, unable to keep pace with him or to aim at him with her torpedoes or even her deck guns.
The captain was congratulating himself and his engineer on their lucky escape when suddenly a second submarine popped up right in front of his vessel's bows. This time he was obliged to stop his engines, for he saw a gun rise from its chamber on the submarine's deck. Two officers stood on the platform of the conning-tower.
One of them called out in perfect English, asking where the steamer was bound for, what was her cargo, and where was the British fleet?
"I'm sorry to cause inconvenience," the German added, "but you must remember this is war. I shall have to sink you. I will give you ten minutes to get clear of the steamer. Get as many of your belongings together as you can and take to your boats."
While the crew were hastily putting their clothing and personal possessions into their kit bags, and launching the two boats, the captain was ordered to produce his ship's papers. He observed as the submarine drew alongside that both officers wore the Iron Cross, and that one of them was hardly more than a boy.
"You can take some food and water with you," said the younger, "and if you steer north-west you will probably come upon some fishing boats that may help you."
The crew had rowed a short distance away from their steamer when they saw a couple of German sailors go on board of her with what looked like explosive bombs. A few minutes afterwards they returned empty-handed, the submarine backed away. There was a loud explosion on board thePriscillaand she rapidly sank.
The submarine then went off at high speed, and as she did so a couple of dummy funnels were raised on her deck, false bulwarks at bow and stern were rigged up, and with a pair of masts and with smoke curling from the funnels she had all the appearance of a heavily laden steamer.
"You didn't happen to notice her number, did you, captain?" Arnold Bilverstone inquired, when the master of thePriscillawas narrating his experience to the officers in the naval base at Haddisport.
"Well, it was painted over," the captain explained, "and an eye was painted in its stead. But under the paint I could make out the raised figures U50."
"Then the younger of those two officers was Max Hilliger," decided Mark Redisham; and Mr. Bilverstone agreed.
Later on that same day, or rather in the evening, Mark Redisham was again at the naval base. Just at about dusk a wireless message was received, intimating that two enemy submarines were in the neighbourhood.
The air was calm and clear and the sea smooth. Half a dozen of the most powerful telescopes and marine glasses were engaged by as many expert watchers in sweeping the sea, while at the end of the pier a naval gun was charged and a crew of experienced marksmen were at the breech ready to train it on the instant if the Germans' periscopes should be sighted.
Mark Redisham was the first to discover a ripple on the water some three miles away, but it was one of the officers who determined that the ripple was caused by the movement of a half-submerged submarine. It was apparently making towards Alderwick Roads, where half a dozen patrol trawlers lay at anchor.
The light was gradually fading, but the moving target was still visible. The gun was laid. For months back, at intervals, it had been brought into practice upon a mark less easily seen than the one upon which it was pointed at this moment, and the gunner who now controlled its aim had never been known to fail.
The lever was pressed. The shell shrieked forth. Then there was a terrific explosion which shook the windows of the town as the submarine was struck and sent to its doom.
An electric launch was sent out to pick up possible survivors, but all that could be seen was a slimy film of oil on the water's surface.
From the pier as the boat went out, the periscopes of the second submarine were sighted, but before the gun could be trained it had disappeared.
CHAPTER XXXII.
U50'S WORST CRIME.
"This second submarine was the U50.
"It's that naval gun on Haddisport pier that I warned you of," said Max Hilliger, as the vessel submerged and her electric motors were turned on. "We ought not to have come in so close. I believe those mine-sweepers in the Roads must have discovered us. Most of them are fitted with wireless masts. No, it's no use trying to rescue our friends. They couldn't have escaped after an explosion like that. We had better remain submerged and get away from the coast as quickly as we can."
Lieutenant Körner was inconsolable over the loss of the other submarine. They had been working in partnership for several days past, sinking fishing boats more especially and using explosive bombs rather than wasting expensive torpedoes.
This use of bombs had necessitated the stopping of their intended victims. Having stopped and boarded them, there had always come the difficulty of dealing with their crews.
If you send a torpedo into an enemy ship from a discreet distance there is no question of sparing life. A submarine could not in any case encumber herself with prisoners. But when you have to speak to the vessel's skipper and have been polite to him, the matter is different. Even a German commander can hardly refuse to give him and his ship's company a chance of saving their lives.
Max Hilliger was greatly in favour of using bombs. He did not advance any serious scruples against the destruction of property; but he had been educated in England, he still retained a sense of honour and fairness, and he drew the line at taking the lives of innocent and unoffending seamen.
This was the rock upon which he and Lieutenant Hermann Körner split. Körner was not burdened with any of his subordinate's English ideas of humanity. He hated the English, and everything British. Like most Germans, he had persuaded himself that the war had been begun entirely by Great Britain; that Germany had never wanted to go to war. He resolutely closed his mind to the fact that his country had for many years been preparing for war, and seeking for a cause to pick a quarrel with Great Britain so that, being fully prepared, she might fall upon her and smash her.
Above all, he hated Great Britain because of her supremacy upon the seas. She had put a stop to German commerce and held Germany's great navy in a firm grip; therefore he considered that it was his highest patriotic duty to go about stealthily in his submarine destroying British shipping regardless of whether the ships he sank were armed for defence or were peaceful, unoffending fishing smacks.
He would have preferred it if all the vessels which came within reach of his torpedoes were ships of war; so that by sinking them he might lessen the overpowering strength of the British Navy.
But he had discovered long ago that the British naval officers and seamen were even more clever in protecting themselves from sudden attack than the Germans were in taking them by surprise.
Many times the U50 had been taken with other German submarines and torpedo boats to lie concealed in the narrow seas in the hope of being able to sink some of our transports carrying troops and munitions across to France; but they had always been frustrated or outwitted.
Lieutenant Körner found that it was much more easy to lurk submerged in the tideways of commerce and to attack undefended merchant ships or fishing boats. Had not Max Hilliger sometimes opposed him, he would never have allowed a crew to escape. Max, however, held to one unvarying argument.
"What we are ordered to do," he declared, "is to help to overcome the enemy by starvation—preventing their ships from carrying food and other merchandise into their seaports. And if we sink the ships and their cargoes there is no further advantage to be gained by taking also the lives of their crews. Give their men at least a chance to escape in their boats."
Sometimes when the vessel attacked was of little importance, and especially if she happened to be a neutral, Körner yielded and gave the crew time to abandon their doomed ship. But if the vessel were fitted with wireless masts, if she appeared to be armed, or if she offered any resistance, he showed no mercy, but came within gun range and opened fire upon her. It was only the very large ships against which he fired a torpedo. It is of one such exploit that I am now going to tell you.
Leaving the neighbourhood of Haddisport, the U50 crossed the North Sea and made her secret way down the Dutch coast to Flanders. Avoiding the British mine-field and keeping carefully out of the way of the British naval patrols, she was taken into the German submarine harbour at Zeebrugge, where she remained for some days, having her instruments cleaned and tested, her torpedo chambers replenished, and taking in stores for a long voyage.
Lieutenant Körner behaved rather mysteriously towards Max Hilliger during this time. He had many consultations with staff officers and with the commanders of other submarines, and refused to inform Max what was in the wind. All that he would admit was the fact that they were going out under sealed orders, which were not to be opened until they should reach a point somewhere to the westward of Land's End.
The point indicated on their chart was in the midst of the Scilly Islands. Here, on a certain very dark night, the U50 lay motionless in a calm channel, with only the upper part of her conning-tower above the surface, hardly distinguishable from the surrounding rocks. Hermann Körner was on watch with a pair of powerful binoculars.
"You appear to be expecting something," remarked Max Hilliger from below. "There can be no enemy ships in a dangerous corner like this."
"It is for that reason that I am watching," returned Körner. "Since there can be no enemy near, it is safe for us to enter into communication with our friends."
"Spies, I suppose," conjectured Max, peering upward through the darkness.
"Ah!" exclaimed Körner. "At last; I was searching in the wrong direction."
He drew an electric torch from his pocket and began to flash it. It was a wan, green light, which could not have been seen from a great distance. Körner returned the torch to his pocket, closed the trap door of the conning-tower, and descended into the cabin, humming the air of a German folk-song.
"Well?" said Max.
"It is all right," nodded Körner. "You can enjoy a good sleep, my friend. You will need it; because for some days and nights to come it is probable we shall both require to have very good eyesight."
Max turned into his bunk, but did not at once fall asleep. The intense silence and darkness kept him wakeful. He would much rather have been listening to the busy humming of the electric engines. At about midnight he turned on his pillow and spoke.
"Hermann!" he called.
There was no answer. He lay listening, and from one of the distant compartments there came to him the faint tap-tapping sound of the wireless instrument. It was too faint for him to hear distinctly enough to follow the message; and just as he was beginning to catch a word here and there, it stopped, and there was a long interval of silence, during which he fell asleep, not to be awakened again until late on the following morning. The petrol engines were at work, a dim gleam of daylight came in through the thick glass of an uncovered skylight. A servant was busy laying breakfast on the little table in the middle of the cabin.
"We are under weigh, then?" cried Max, speaking to the man in German.
"Ja, mein Herr. Since eight o'clock."
Max glanced up at the tell-tale compass above the table, and saw that the course was due west.
"It is the direction of America,mein Herr," said the servant, following his glance.
Max dressed and went out on deck. The dummy funnels and the false bulwarks were raised. There was a ragged red ensign flying from the mast. No land was in sight, and the sea was clear of shipping; but in the wake he presently discovered the swiftly moving periscopes of two other submarines. Lieutenant Körner was on deck, but there were seamen about, and Max suppressed his desire to go up to him and question him.
When they were alone together at breakfast, however, he leant across the table and said:
"Is there any particular reason why I should not know something of our destination, Herr Körner? I see that there are two others of our undersea boats in our company. Our purpose, whatever it is, must therefore be of importance."
"If it succeeds," returned Körner, breaking the top of an egg, "it will be the biggest, most important thing we have ever done, or are ever likely to do. It will send a thrill of astonishment over the whole world. It will prove that the Kaiser's brave submarines are more powerful weapons than any dreadnought that ever was built."
"You amaze me," said Max. "I do not understand. I cannot guess. We are making a course westward, leaving England behind. We appear to be going out into the Atlantic Ocean. It is not there that we shall find any British battleships."
Lieutenant Körner laughed.
"Let us hope not," he rejoined. "No, my dear friend. Believe me, it is not battleships that we seek."
"What then?" cried Max, nervously clutching at the edge of the table. "You do not mean—you cannot mean—that it is your intention to try to sink an Atlantic liner!"
"Well guessed!" laughed Körner. "We shall torpedo her—a great liner—the greatest liner—theRuritania."
Max Hilliger leapt from his chair.
"What?" he cried. "Impossible! You cannot be serious."
"I was never more serious in my life," Körner assured him. "I tell you we are going to lie in her track—we and our two companion submarines. We shall station ourselves at three different points, one of which she must surely pass. And then, when she comes in sight, we shall creep nearer, unseen, unsuspected, and wait until she draws within range, when we shall take careful aim, making no mistake; and send our torpedoes into her. You see, it is war, my dear child; it is war."
Max Hilliger had turned suddenly pale; his eyes were staring wildly, his hands trembled.
"War?" he repeated. "Do you call it an act of war to sink a great steamship like that—a ship carrying no protective armour, no defensive guns, a ship crowded with innocent passengers, not all English, many of them Americans no doubt, probably scores of women and children. War? War? That is not war, Hermann Körner. It would have no excuse, no justification. It would be crime, I tell you—a horrible, fiendish crime. It would be murder."
Lieutenant Körner looked up at him with his egg-spoon poised.
"Calm yourself, my friend," he urged. "Call it what you will, that has nothing to do with you or with me. It is our part to do our duty by obeying our orders. And we have orders to sink thisRuritania. We shall obey."
Max shrugged his shoulders and sat down again, but not to eat.
"Oh, well!" he said presently. "After all, I need not distress myself perhaps. Her owners, her captain, her passengers have been warned. We shall not even see her. She will steam by another way, and even then be escorted by British cruisers. Otherwise—if I thought there was the merest chance of your doing this horrible thing—I should ask you to put me ashore on the nearest land, or I should pray that we ourselves should be sent to the bottom of the sea."
All the rest of that day and through the next night, while the U50 went on her way to take up her appointed position on the steamship route, Max Hilliger thought and brooded, wondering by what possible means he could avert the contemplated crime, even by the sacrifice of his own life.
He wondered if he could open some valve so that the submarine should never again rise to the surface; if he could secretly smash or disable some important piece of mechanism, or jam the torpedo tubes. But all the time he knew that if he should attempt such a thing there still remained the other two submarines, either of which might succeed where Hermann Körner had failed.
At length the appointed position was reached. The commander occupied himself in making calculations of time and distance. Again and again he examined his instruments and controls, again and again he went through a rehearsal of every act and movement which would be put into practice when, if at all, the fatal moment arrived. Had Max Hilliger tried to disable any of the mechanism he could not have succeeded, so carefully was everything watched, so constantly was he himself kept under observation.
He contrived as often as he could to be in the conning-tower; but Körner and the quarter-master were usually at the periscopes, and Max could only watch the two men, hoping, always hoping, that they would discover no sign of the expected liner. By their hardly suppressed excitement he knew that should she be keeping to her usual course and time, she was already due.
Suddenly Lieutenant Körner ordered "diving stations." The tanks were filled—the vessel was submerged, and she sped through the dark depths at the fullest speed of her electric motors for about a quarter of an hour, when she again rose. Telegraph signals were rung. The torpedo tubes were charged.
"Is it theRuritania?" Max panted. He saw that the moment had come.
"Yes. Quick! Get down into the torpedo chamber."
Instead of obeying the command, Max Hilliger snatched his loaded automatic pistol from his belt and leapt like a maddened animal at the commander.
"Stop!" he shouted. "Stop! Touch that lever and I will shoot you!" He flung himself forward, but a blow from the quarter-master's fist struck him in the face and he wheeled round, lost his balance, and fell. The pistol dropped from his grasp. His brain reeled, yet half consciously he heard the command given: "Fire!" He felt the vessel give a jump as the torpedo left its tube. From somewhere far away he heard a deep, dull explosion. Then, as a second torpedo was discharged, he came to his fuller senses.
"It is done!" cried Lieutenant Körner with an exultant laugh as he drew back from his periscope.
Max Hilliger had risen to his knees. He had seized his fallen pistol and now he levelled the weapon at the commander.
"God forgive me," he murmured. "But it is less than you deserve."
And with that he pressed the trigger, firing point blank at a spot beside the Iron Cross on his companion's breast.
Hermann Körner flung up his arms, tumbled backward, and lay upon the grating very still.
Dropping his weapon, Max stepped over him and made his way to the periscope. Trembling from head to foot, he yet controlled himself sufficiently to bend over the instrument to adjust its disturbed focus. Reflected in the mirror he saw the image of an immense Atlantic liner with four red funnels, and many decks crowded with people. Her whole vast fabric was heeling over. She seemed to have been struck by the torpedo somewhere amidships.
"How awful!" he exclaimed.
He turned to look once again at the commander lying dead at his feet.
"God forgive me," he repeated. "But it is less than you deserve."