"We might have guessed that," remarked O'Hara.
"Oh?"
"Yes; don't you see, she was spotted by our gunboat. She couldn't get away up the Mohoro River until Friday, and rather than run the risk of being sunk at anchor she's landed her mob of reservists and has put to sea again."
"To be promptly snapped up? No; I don't care to admit your reasoning, old man. We haven't come all this way through that confounded forest for nothing. Listen!"
A faint, rapid throbbing was borne to their ears. The sound came not from the sea but along the shore to their left, where a projecting tongue of land limited their range of vision.
"Motor," announced O'Hara laconically.
"And not a marine one," added Denbigh. "Come on. We'll follow this path; it's a jolly sight safer than keeping to the shore."
Once again they plunged into the mangrove forest, following a beaten track that, judging by its well-worn condition, had been in existence long before the arrival of thePelikan.
Suddenly Denbigh halted and held up his hand. Footsteps were approaching, not those of the naked feet of natives but the booted tramp of white men.
The subs took cover and waited, fervently hoping that the oncomers had not a dog with them. The party advanced slowly and haltingly, so much so that for the moment Denbigh imagined that their suspicions had been aroused.
But without once glancing in the direction of the hidden officers the men passed by. One was a petty officer of thePelikan. Denbigh recognized him by his bushy beard. With him were four seamen, walking two abreast. The leading pair carried a roll of something wrapped in a painted canvas cover; the others bore a large reel of wire, paying out the thin cable as they went.
"H'm, telephone wire," muttered Denbigh. "That doesn't look as if the ship has cleared out. More than likely they've landed some of the guns to form a masked battery. It strikes me pretty forcibly that we'll have to investigate at both ends of the wire."
Not until the sound of the receding footsteps had died away—and it took an exasperating time—did the subs emerge from their place of concealment. The air was now almost free from mist. Occasionally patches of vapour drifted across their path, but generally speaking the miasmic belt ended at a distance of about half a mile from the sea.
O'Hara stooped and lifted up the wire.
"Let's cut the dashed line," he suggested.
"All in good time," replied Denbigh. "If we do so now they'll be buzzing around before we've made our investigations. I think we're on to a good thing."
Nearer and nearer grew the sound of the motor, until upon emerging from the grove the subs found themselves within a hundred yards of a German base.
At this point the ground sloped gently to the edge of the lagoon. Without any apparent attempt at concealment two searchlights had been set in position. A dozen men in naval uniforms were standing around the projectors. The lights were "running" as was evident from the crackle of the carbons, but the shutters were closed, cutting off the rays. The current was produced by a dynamo, the power being supplied by means of the petrol motor, the pulsations of which had given the subs a clue to its position.
"What's the idea?" whispered O'Hara, indicating the unconcealed searchlight.
"A blind," replied his companion. "I guessed it. We'll carry on a little farther before we retrace our steps."
Anotherdétourwas necessary, but on plunging into the mangrove forest on to the other side of the clearing the Irishman's foot tripped in the telephone wire.
"Good!" he ejaculated. "You're right, old man."
Five hundred yards farther on the explorers almost tumbled into a deep pit, protected on the seaward side by sandbags, between which were stuck shrubs and branches of trees to screen the artificial work from seaward.
In the pit were two quick-firers, with basket cases of ammunition in readiness. Pacing up and down between the guns was a sentry, while under a tarpaulin supported by short poles were about a dozen sleeping men. Farther on was another excavation, but what it contained the British officers were unable to ascertain. The battery, it was evident, was manned by some of the reservists from theSan Matias.
Denbigh, having taken a compass bearing of the entrance of the lagoon, nudged his chum, and they began to retrace their steps. Moving as rapidly as their sense of caution would permit, they again skirted the searchlight station and picked up the telephone wire trail in the woods beyond.
"We must not forget the time," cautioned the Irishman.
"By Jove, no!" replied Denbigh. As a matter of fact he had. The excitement of their discoveries had banished all thought of anything else. Even the perils of their return journey to theMyrahad been lightly brushed aside. "Hang it all, there's that confounded mist again."
At a distance of a quarter of a mile from the searchlight position the path bent obliquely towards the lagoon. Here the trees grew right to the water's edge, the cliff at this point being roughly twenty feet above the sea.
"What's that?" whispered O'Hara.
A cable's length from shore, and just visible through the mist, was a large indistinct shape. At first sight it looked like a small island thickly covered with coco-nut palms.
"The cunning blighters!" ejaculated Denbigh. "That's thePelikan."
It was the raider. Her masts and funnels were decked with branches; the whole tops of trees festooned her sides. The outlines of her bow and stern were concealed by trailing masses of vegetation. Viewed from seaward, against the tree-clad hillocks, thePelikancould not be distinguished from her natural background. A short distance along the shore there was a gap in the line of cliffs. Here a boat was lying, with her crew standing about on shore.
"They're expecting someone," whispered Denbigh. "Let's move."
Not until the subs were a safe distance from the shore did they exchange opinions.
"ThePelikanis expecting an attack," said O'Hara. "So she is disguised. Some of her guns are taken ashore."
"Why not all?" asked Denbigh.
"I should not think so," was the reply. "They would be almost certain to keep those in position on the port side. They haven't abandoned the ship, otherwise the boat wouldn't be waiting to take somebody off to her. Hulloa, there they go!"
Two brilliant arcs of light swept across the lagoon. The searchlights had been unmasked and were directed towards the narrow gap in the coral reef.
"They've spotted something," continued O'Hara.
"Not necessarily," replied Denbigh. "Those lights are tantamount to a challenge. Our fellows will go for the searchlight, thinking that they are being worked from thePelikan. Then the ship's guns and those of the masked battery will be able to open a converging fire. We'll have to stop their little game, old man."
"Can't see how," said O'Hara.
"No more can I at present," added his companion. "We've about three hours to daylight. We must allow an hour and a half at the very outside to work our way back to theMyra."
"If our fellows put the hat on thePelikan, we may as well hang on and get them to pick us up. You can bet your bottom dollar they'll take good care to see that thePelikanis properly done in."
"My dear fellow," protested Denbigh, "are we fit to introduce ourselves as British officers, even suppose the cruisers send a landing party ashore?"
"Don't care whether I am or not," replied the Irishman recklessly. "Whether I wear an evening dress of burnt cork plus a very disreputable uniform of white ducks, or whether I am immaculately arrayed in No. 1 rig, makes little difference. I am still Patrick O'Hara."
"S'sh!" whispered Denbigh, for O'Hara had unconsciously raised his voice during the delivery of his protest. "Let's have another look to seaward, and then we'll cut the telephone wire and clap on all sail for our involuntary home of rest. By Jove, it's getting darker! We'll be barging into something if we aren't very careful."
Upon regaining the top of the cliffs the subs saw something that indicated the impending attack. Lights were in position at the entrance to the lagoon. The British vessels in the offing had sent boats to sound and drop calcium-light buoys in the narrow channel, preparatory to making a dash across the enclosed stretch of water.
Even as the subs watched a masthead light blinked rapidly. Since the vessels were equipped with wireless, light signals were unnecessary for communication. Denbigh could only conclude that one of the attacking craft was ordering the boats to return.
"I say, old man," whispered O'Hara. "It's not going to be long-range gunnery. I believe they're sending a couple of destroyers in. If so, they're going to try a torpedo on thePelikan."
Before Denbigh could reply a faint gleam played upon the rock-strewn beach. Lying at full length in the coarse grass on the top of the cliffs, which were here only about ten feet in height, the chums waited and watched.
Coming towards them was a big-built man in the uniform of a German officer. At intervals he flashed a torch upon the ground to guide his footsteps. Behind him came a soldier with his rifle slung across his back, and carrying a heavy valise.
"Von Eckenstein," whispered Denbigh, recognizing the bullying Prussian by his voice. "And with an electric torch, too. We'll bag those fellows, Pat. No, not that pistol, you chump. We'll jump on 'em."
Cautiously the two subs crouched ready to spring. Denbigh, grasping a stout stick that he had found in the place of the one broken by the ape, signed to his companion to use his powerful fists and tackle the major's servant.
Unsuspectingly von Eckenstein passed by. Just as he flashed the torch Denbigh leapt. Before his feet touched the sand his stick descended heavily upon the German's head. His sun-helmet was insufficient to save him. Without a groan the major dropped.
O'Hara had been equally successful in his share of the attack. Taking Denbigh literally, he had alighted fairly on the German soldier's head.
"I've killed him!" exclaimed the Irishman.
"'Fraid so," agreed Denbigh. "But it's war, you know. Be sharp, drag them into the bushes. Our dear friend the major won't recover his senses in a hurry."
Taking possession of the torch Denbigh scaled the cliff and made his way through the mangroves until he was nearly twenty yards from the edge of the wood. From this point he could see the masthead light of the destroyer—for destroyer he felt sure it must be. He could now flash the torch with little risk of the glare being spotted from either thePelikanor the masked battery.
He "called up", at first without meeting with success, but at length a steady white light gleamed from the offing. It was not from the destroyer that had been using her masthead light, but from one farther out to sea.
Rapidly Denbigh flashed the warning message:—
"Pelikandisguised, 400 yards to southward of searchlights. Masked battery 400 yards to northward of searchlights. Useless to attempt torpedo."
The white light vanished. With his nerves tingling with anxiety the sub waited.
Then through the darkness the destroyer's signalling lamp spelt out the single word:
"R-A-T-S."
"Idiot!" snapped Denbigh under his breath. "Some irresponsible signalman acting the goat."
"Perhaps they think that our signal is a faked message coming from the enemy," suggested O'Hara. "Try them again: add your name and rank."
Denbigh repeated the message, making the additions his companion had proposed; but there was no reply—not even a facetious one.
The signalman of the destroyer was engaged in taking down another message from the shore, for the Germans, seeing the word 'rats' flashed from an enemy ship, came to the conclusion that it was a personal affront to themselves. Consequently the searchlights had been temporarily shut off and a signalling lamp brought into play to frame a fitting reply to the Englishmen's single-worded challenge.
"We must make a move," announced Denbigh, disappointed at his warning being ignored. "It will be daylight before we get back, if we don't hurry. I'd like to stop and watch the scrap, but we can't wait. They may not attack until close on dawn."
Already possessed of the German soldier's rifle, bayonet and ammunition, Denbigh led the way from the shore. As the subs crossed the path along which the telegraph line had been laid, Denbigh severed the copper wire in two places, making the cuts quite fifty feet from each other. The separated part he removed, rolling it into a small coil.
"They'll have a bit of a bother to find that, I fancy," he remarked. "Unless they bring a spare length with them that telephone will be useless for the next couple of hours."
"They'll know it has been deliberately cut, though," added the Irishman. "If we had wrenched the wire apart they might have thought that some animal had barged into it. There'll be some strafing over it."
As he spoke the air was rent by a terrific detonation, followed almost immediately by the bark of numerous quick-firers. The attack had commenced.
Without a word both officers turned and raced recklessly towards the shore.
As Denbigh had foreseen, two British destroyers took part in the attempt to settle thePelikan. Deceived by the position of the searchlight on shore both boats headed towards the glare like moths to a lighted candle.
At a distance of five hundred yards from the edge of the lagoon the leading boat ported helm and let fly a couple of torpedoes from her midship deck-tubes. Straight as arrows sped the two deadly missiles, but instead of striking the hull of thePelikanthey exploded simultaneously against the rocks.
Instantly the guns on the raider and those in the masked battery on shore opened a furious fire. The leading destroyer, caught by the tornado of shell, was hulled again and again. With her funnels riddled like sieves, her deck gear swept away, and in a sinking condition, she turned for the open sea. Failing in that object her lieutenant-commander ran her aground on the outer reef just as she was on the point of foundering.
The second destroyer, blinded by the glare of the searchlights, and finding that she was the target for two distinct batteries, neither of which was in the spot where thePelikanwas supposed to be, turned about, screening her movements with smoke from her funnels.
Slowing down outside the lagoon she picked up the survivors from her consort and steamed out to sea.
From the Germans' point of view it was a victory: the British, undaunted by the loss of one of their boats, preferred to call it a "reconnaissance in force", with the object of compelling the enemy to unmask his batteries. The main attack would be made by long-range gunnery, and to that end the three monitors, then lying in Zanzibar Harbour, were ordered to make for the mouth of the Mohoro River.
Denbigh and O'Hara, having the mortification of seeing the destroyers repulsed with loss—the action was over in five minutes—again set out on their return journey.
In spite of the aid afforded by the compass the subs found, on emerging from the forest, that they were a long way out of their reckoning. They had hit the banks of the Mohoro River right enough, but either a considerable distance above or below the spot where theMyralay moored.
The mists had rolled away. It was now very dark, yet had the tramp been anywhere in the vicinity the subs would have been able to discern her. There were ominous sounds: those of huge creatures wading over the mud-flats. Hippopotami and crocodiles were emerging from the river.
"Up or down?" asked O'Hara.
"Neither, by this bank," replied Denbigh, gripping his rifle. "It doesn't sound healthy. We'll cut inland a bit and try our luck up-stream."
"Why up-stream?" asked the Irishman.
"Because I think I've tumbled to it," answered his chum. "I've been carrying this rifle on my left shoulder for the greater part of the last hour. I have also been holding the compass within a few inches of the steel barrel. It was a silly thing to do, I admit, but I didn't think of it at the time. Consequently the needle deviated and threw us out of our course. We've gone more to the left of our outward track, and that brings us down stream."
"It's getting light, I believe," remarked O'Hara after a ten-minutes detour.
"Yes," replied Denbigh. "It's the false dawn. It will get pitch-dark for a little while before the real daybreak. Push on. This light will serve us a good turn."
Once more the adventurous twain gained the river bank. This time their efforts met with success, for showing clearly in the half-light of the false dawn was theMyra.
"Nearly slack water," announced Denbigh. "We're in luck. Keep under cover in case the watch are feeling particularly energetic."
While awaiting the return of darkness, Denbigh retrieved the handkerchief he had left as a mark, and wrapping it round the breech of the captured rifle, buried the weapon in the soft earth. It might, he argued, come in handy within the next few days. Beyond that time the rifle would be rapidly attacked by rust, for on the East Coast of Africa the action of corrosion is almost as quick as in the moist air of the Gold Coast.
He was dubious concerning the bayonet. It had a much larger blade than the British article, and its back was furnished with a formidable double row of teeth to within six inches of the point. With it a man might fell a fairly large-size tree in an hour.
"Pity to waste it," declared Denbigh. "Only it's too long to hide under my clothes without great risk of its being spotted. On the other hand, it may come in jolly useful."
"Break it in two," suggested his chum. "Even four inches of the blade might be handy."
Wrapping his coat round the end of the blade in order to protect his hands, the sub brought the flat of the steel smartly against his knee. To his disgust the bayonet did not snap, as he fully expected it to do. It bent, and instead of flying back when the pressure was released it remained bent.
"Good old Solingen steel!" exclaimed Denbigh disgustedly. "Same rotten stuff that our cutlass-bayonets were made of in the '85 Soudan campaign."
All efforts to break the bayonet failed. The metal was so non-elastic that the sub gave up the attempt and hurled it into the mud.
"Time!" he exclaimed. "It's getting dark again."
The men stripped, and made their clothes into bundles as before. To return to theMyrawith their garments shedding streams of turgid water would never do, since they had no other clothes.
"Ugh!" ejaculated O'Hara as his feet touched the loathsome slime. "I can't say I'm hankering after a mud bath. Can't say I like the rotten turnip-smelling water any better."
"Dry up!" cautioned Denbigh under his breath.
"Wish I could," retorted the irrepressible Irishman. "Sure I'm wet altogether."
They swam side by side, making use of the "dog-stroke", as there was less risk of attracting attention by an involuntary splashing.
It was a nerve-racking ordeal, for the darkness was now intense. Hippopotami were noisy not so very far off; there was imminent danger from crocodiles, that, floating like logs in the water, were practically invisible until one was almost within arm's length of them. But on top of these unpleasant possibilities, the haunting dread that the rope ladder might have been removed was uppermost in Denbigh's mind.
As the swimmers approached mid-stream, they found there was still a strong current. It was indeed a hard struggle to make the ship. Well-nigh exhausted, the two chums gained their goal. Thank heaven the end of the ladder was still trailing in the water.
For some minutes the subs contented themselves by hanging on to the ropes and regaining their breath. Then Denbigh, assuring himself that the key to the cabin was still hanging from a cord round his neck, began to ascend. When his head was level with the bulwarks he peered cautiously along the deck. He could see or hear no one. Had a sentry been standing for'ard, it would have been possible to discern his outlines against the gloom. He would have much rather seen the fellow and made arrangements accordingly, than to be in ignorance of where the sentry was, since it was unlikely that all the watch on deck were skulking.
Denbigh ascended another rung and waited again. This time he heard voices speaking in low guttural tones. The watch were sheltering in the fore-peak.
Reassured on this point, the sub leapt lightly over the rail. As he did so his bare feet came in contact with something soft. He had pitched fairly upon a fat German, who, heedless of the risk of sleeping in the open air, had coiled himself up under the lee of the bulwarks.
The shock threw Denbigh to the deck. Quickly regaining his feet, he saw the astonished German struggling to rise. Before he could do so the sub dealt him a powerful left-hander. Missing the point of the Teuton's chin, Denbigh's clenched fist struck him heavily on the nose.
Thoroughly scared by the apparition of a stalwart black, the man took to his heels. Yelling with fear, his cries for assistance were rendered indistinguishable owing to the fact that he held both hands pressed tightly over his nose, which was leaving a purple trail on the deck.
"Come on!" hissed Denbigh to his chum.
O'Hara needed no second bidding. Clearing the bulwarks, he quickly cut adrift the ladder and raced after Denbigh, who was making with all possible dispatch for the companion.
For a brief instant Denbigh fumbled with the key; then inserting it in the lock he threw open the door.
"Back again, Armstrong," he announced coolly, for now all immediate danger was over. "Have you any clean water handy? We could both do with a good wash."
Restraining his curiosity, the mate of theMyrapoured out some water into a tin bowl, and handed Denbigh a small piece of yellow soap.
"There'll be just time to scrub your figureheads," he remarked. "You'll have to turn in pretty sharp, or you'll be bowled out. They're getting a little bit excited on deck."
Realizing that it would be as well to act on Armstrong's advice, the subs, by dint of hard scrubbing and plenty of soap, succeeded in removing the burnt cork from their faces, necks, and hands. This done they donned their pyjamas and scrambled into their bunks, while the mate obligingly unpacked their bundles and laid out the garments with methodical precision.
Armstrong was not far wrong in his surmise. The excitement on deck bordered on a state of panic. Every man of the prize crew turned out. Unter-leutnant Klick, having heard a muddled version of what had taken place, ordered the man who had been jumped upon to state what he knew.
The seaman, still shaken and frightened, could only affirm that he was pacing the deck as conscientiously as a sentry should do, when the black figure leapt upon him from behind and felled him.
"From behind, say you?" repeated Unter-leutnant Klick. "How, then, could you see that he was black?"
"I must have spun round, sir, as I fell," replied the fellow. "I distinctly remember seeing that he was black and without clothing. He may be a native."
"Where did he go after taking you unawares?" asked the prize-master of theMyra.
"Over the side, sir, I think. I believe I heard the splash."
Kaspar Klick, however, had his suspicions. Not for one moment did he imagine that anyone would be so utterly reckless as to attempt to swim ashore and back again. The river, teeming with hippopotami and crocodiles, offered too formidable an obstacle. On the other hand, the mysterious assailant of the sentry might be one of several of the English prisoners, intent upon recapturing the ship. Had the faithful sentry been felled without uttering a sound, the plot may have succeeded; but when the seaman made enough bellowing to awaken the Seven Sleepers, the daring Englishmen probably thought better of it, and had retired speedily and discreetly.
Ordering half a dozen armed men to accompany him, Unter-leutnant Klick went for'ard. Over the hatchway leading to the forehold, where theMyra'sdeck hands were under lock and key, he found a sentry on duty. The man was most emphatic that no one had attempted to come on deck. The state of the padlock proved that.
Still dubious, the unter-leutnant descended the main hold. Making his way over a pack of miscellaneous cargo, he came to the for'ard bulkhead. A careful examination showed that no effort had been made to cut through the partition separating the two holds. He could, therefore, feel reassured that the original crew of theMyrahad not attempted to put into execution a plot to recover the ship.
"Perhaps it is those harebrained officers we took from the Japanese liner," soliloquized Klick. "I'll go the rounds now I am about it, and see if those fellows have been up to any tricks."
Had the unter-leutnant gone aft as soon as he commenced his investigations, he might have noticed the tell-tale prints of wet feet, left by Denbigh and his chum as they scurried to the cabin. By this time the marks had almost vanished. The slight traces of dampness that remained were hardly noticeable in the gloom, for it was still dark, and 'tween decks the lantern gave but a feeble glimmer.
Klick inserted his key into the lock and threw open the door. The cabin was in darkness, until one of his men flashed a lantern into it. The unter-leutnant sniffed suspiciously.
"Anyone awake?" he asked.
"Yes," replied Armstrong.
"You haf been a lamp burning," said Kaspar Klick accusingly. "It is again der regulations."
Armstrong's reply told the listening subs that he was "up to snuff". The prize-master had sniffed the odour of burnt cork; but since he had suggested that it was the smell of an extinguished oil-lamp, the mate did not contradict.
"Yes," he replied. "Mr. O'Hara hasn't been very well. I had to give him some quinine, and a fellow must have a light to see that he is giving the right dose."
"Ach! Is dat so?" asked the unter-leutnant. "Now, tell me dis. Herr O'Hara, did he go on deck since last hour ago?"
"No," replied Armstrong with perfect truthfulness. "I am certain he didn't. I'm a very light sleeper, and if he had moved I should have heard. Besides, how could he get out without a key?" asked the mate with well-feigned innocence.
"I tell you dis——" began Klick; but before he could carry out his intention a loud shout of "Wer da?" came from the deck, followed by an unintelligible hail, coming from some distance down the river.
Kaspar Klick waited no longer. Hurriedly he left the cabin, slamming and locking the door, and rushed on deck. Aft, a sentry at the ready was repeating his challenge. The first blush of the short tropical dawn revealed the presence of a four-oared galley speeding up with the tide.
"We're from thePelikan, sir," announced the petty officer in charge, as the boat ran alongside. Without attempting to board the man delivered his message.
In spite of the closed dead-light Denbigh and his companions could hear all the fellow was saying.
"Herr Kapitan von Riesser sends his compliments," continued the coxswain. "He is anxious to know whether any of the English prisoners have escaped."
"No, certainly not," replied Kaspar Klick with righteous indignation in his voice, "our precautions are too elaborate to give the dogs a chance of that. But why has Kapitan von Riesser sent you with that question?"
"We've been in action, sir," declared the man.
"We heard the firing," remarked Klick. "And the result?"
"One English cruiser sunk, another driven on to the rocks," announced the coxswain, allowing his imagination to kick over the traces. "There were others. We would have captured or destroyed those, only——"
"Only what?" asked the unter-leutnant sharply.
"Someone cut our field telegraph. 'B' battery could not get in touch with the observation officer and so the rest of the enemy escaped."
"How do you know that the wire has been cut?" asked the unter-leutnant. "It might have carried away."
"A whole length of it has been removed, sir," reported the coxswain.
"Then it was the natives. They'll steal anything in the metal line. Kapitan von Riesser ought to have known that," replied Klick with asperity. "We look after our prisoners here. None of them has the faintest chance of getting out of the ship. Anything more to report?"
"Only that Major von Eckenstein is missing. He left the observation station to go to thePelikan'slanding stage and never arrived. Search parties were out when I left."
Unter-leutnant Kaspar Klick made no audible comment. Inwardly he rejoiced, after the manner of mean-minded men when they hear of misfortune overtaking those they dislike; for there was no love lost between the two representatives of the Kaiser's forces.
"Very well; carry on back," he ordered. "You can reassure Kapitan von Riesser on the points he mentioned."
"There's something else, sir," reported the petty officer, producing a linen envelope from under a cushion in the stern-sheets. "I had to deliver this to you personally."
The German officer took the envelope and went below to read its contents. It was to the effect that thePelikanhad been lightened still more and that at high water she would attempt the bar. TheMyrawas to return down stream and stand by to render assistance if necessary.
Returning on deck the prize-master gave back to the coxswain the order, to which was added a notation that it would be complied with, and dismissed the boat. Then, grumbling at being turned out so early in the morning, Kaspar Klick retired to his cabin.
"Is that right about the sinking of one of our cruisers?" asked Armstrong, when Denbigh had translated the gist of the conversation, for in spite of the port-hole being closed every word had been audible.
"Hardly," replied Denbigh. "The Germans have a funny habit of magnifying the size and class of any and every vessel they sink. Unfortunately they sent one of our destroyers to the bottom. By Jove! doesn't this burnt cork take a lot of shifting?"
The two subs were busily engaged in scrubbing off their sooty coats, to make the rest of their bodies harmonize with their faces. Fresh water being strictly limited and yellow soap microscopic in size their task was not an easy one.
"Well, if they attempt to bring thePelikanup the river," commented the mate of theMyra, "I hope they'll pile her up on the bar. If they succeed we'll have to try our hand. Don't I wish they'd let me have charge of the wheel for five minutes. Now what do you think of these? I call them champion."
He held out the two dummy forelocks, which he had completed in the absence of Denbigh and his chum. They had been coated with aluminium paint, while to give them a worn appearance he had rubbed charcoal over the paint. Only by actual handling, when the difference in weight between the real and the spurious article could be detected, could the deception be discovered.
"Capital!" exclaimed O'Hara, suppressing a yawn. "Oh, dash it all! This is the result of being out of bed when one ought to be enjoying one's beauty sleep. I'm turning in again."
"Also this child," added Denbigh; but before the chums could throw themselves upon their bunks a bugle sounded. It was the signal that another working day had begun, and that the prisoners had to turn out and assist their captors.
"Morning," was Captain Pennington's greeting as Denbigh and O'Hara came on deck. Then, making sure that no German was within earshot, he asked, "And what little game wereyouup to last night?"
"What do you mean?" asked Denbigh in surprise.
"Like you I have a liking for fresh air," replied the skipper of the captured tramp. "The Huns screwed down the dead-light to the port-hole, but forgot to enquire if I had a spanner. They saved themselves an unnecessary question, by the by, for I would not have owned up to being in possession of a very serviceable one. So during the night I opened the port-hole to get a breather. I was rather surprised to find a rope-ladder dropped over the side, and still more so to see two disreputable niggers, whom I recognized as you two, swarm down and take a cold bath. Also I had the pleasure of seeing the same dusky pair return, and had the intense satisfaction of hearing a German bellow like a whipped child."
"Then we weren't so smart as we imagined," observed O'Hara. "Fortunate it was for us that you weren't a Hun."
Before the subs could enlighten Captain Pennington as to the nature of the mystery the unter-leutnant came up.
"You vill haf to vork, kapitan," he said without further preliminaries. "If you no keep your crew up to concert pitch trouble you vill haf. You men vill vork vatch and vatch, see?"
Captain Pennington merely nodded in reply. He realized that passivity was desirable; on the other hand, having heard of Armstrong's little plan, it would not do to show unwonted eagerness to assist in working the ship.
"Turn up der men," ordered Klick.
"One minute," interposed Captain Pennington. "We are not at sea now. My men have insufficient head-gear. It's risking sunstroke."
The unter-leutnant considered the affair for a few minutes. Personally he didn't care a rope's-end whether the strafed Englishmen had sunstroke or not, until it occurred to him that a number of invalids would hamper operations. Finally he gave orders for a number of solar topees or sun-helmets to be issued to the British crew.
It was eight o'clock in the morning when theMyraweighed. Already the sun was unpleasantly hot. There was no wind. Under the shade of the mangroves the mists still held, while the black mud left uncovered by the falling tide gave out a most noxious vapour.
To Denbigh's satisfaction Armstrong had been sent for'ard to superintend the weighing and catting on the anchor. The stern anchor had already been hove short.
Under the action of the steam winch the cable came home. Manoeuvred by means of the twin screws theMyraswung round in mid-stream, and as the "hook" broke out from the muddy bottom the tramp forged slowly ahead.
Half a dozen British seamen were on the fo'c'sle together with three Germans. The latter took good care to leave most of the work to the prisoners, so that Armstrong had a clear opportunity to withdraw the real forelocks from the anchors and replace them with the wooden ones.
"That's all serene," he whispered to Denbigh as he came aft. "Now there'll be trouble for the Deutschers."
Arriving at the entrance to the Mohoro River theMyramade no attempt to recross the inner bar. Nor did she anchor, contenting herself with merely steaming ahead against the flood-tide at a slow speed that kept her stationary with the shore.
Just before high water thePelikanhove in sight from behind a projecting tongue of land. She still retained her garb of palm trees. The subs noticed that she had a decided list to starboard. This, however, was not due to a leak but to the fact that her cargo had been trimmed so as to throw her on her bilge and thus lighten her draught.
Slowly she approached the bar, and promptly took ground. Gripped by the strong tide the stern portion swung round, throwing her almost broadside athwart the river.
Great was the confusion on board. Half a dozen officers were shouting simultaneously; men were rushing hither and thither, with no apparent object, while with her engines reversed, her propellers were throwing huge columns of mud and water.
Before the officers realized the danger the starboard propeller had shed its blades owing to their coming into contact with the bottom, while the port propeller was stopped after two blades had been badly buckled.
Cautiously the lighter-draughtedMyrawas backed astern until a couple of stout hawsers were passed to her from the stranded vessel.
Three times the tramp endeavoured without success to tow off thePelikan, but on each occasion the hawsers snapped. By this time it was close on high water.
Meanwhile the raider's crew were working like men possessed, throwing overboard heavy gear that Kapitan von Riesser would have given thousands of marks to retain. Military stores of the utmost importance had to be ruthlessly sacrificed, unless thePelikanwas to remain a target for the guns of the British cruisers which were even now supposed to be on their way from Zanzibar.
On the fourth occasion a hawser was sent off to theMyra, while in addition the pinnace was towed into midstream with a large anchor slung underneath her keel.
The anchor having been dropped, the cable was led to thePelikan'ssteam capstan. Directly the chain took the strain theMyrabegan to tow, with the result that the luckless raider scraped heavily across the bar into deep water.
Kapitan von Riesser was delighted, in spite of the loss of stores and gear. The damaged propellers mattered little, since thePelikanwould never again attempt to put to sea. TheMyracould tow her up the Mohoro River until she was out of range of the British cruisers' guns, and from that point the reinforcements for the German Field Force could proceed to the Rhodesian border and attempt to check General Smut's advance.
Amongst the troops was Major von Eckenstein, who had been discovered lying unconscious at the foot of the cliffs. He was badly battered about the face, and severely hurt internally. When he came to he was quite unable to account for his injuries. It was quite evident that from a combatant point of view the arrogant major was out of the running.
As soon as thePelikanwas in comparative safety the German troops were re-embarked. The quick-firers which had been landed, and which had served so good a purpose in repelling the British destroyers, were brought round by steamboats and again hoisted on board thePelikan.
This done theMyratook her big consort in tow, and against the now strong ebb-tide slowly crawled up the turgid river.
Before the tidal stream had turned the two vessels had passed the spot where the tramp had anchored on the previous night. Without stopping they proceeded up-stream, thePelikankeeping well under control by means of her rudder and a supplementary steering device consisting of a long spar towed astern to prevent the ship from yawing.
"By Jove! there's trouble ahead," observed Denbigh, pointing to a sharp bend in the river about a mile ahead. Here the tidal portion of the stream extended nearly 500 yards from bank to bank, while the actual channel was a bare fifth of that distance. On the starboard hand ran a long tongue of mud, round which the stream swept with great violence.
By this time a strong breeze had sprung up, blowing athwart the channel. The absence of trees close to the bank increased the difficulty, for there was no protection from the wind as it swept against the lofty side of the slowly-movingPelikan.
Already the raider's semaphore was signalling to theMyrato cast off and anchor until the tide slackened.
With a grim smile on his face Armstrong winked solemnly at the subs. He said not a word, for several of the German seamen were standing by.
"Let go!" ordered Unter-leutnant Klick, directly he saw that thePelikanhad dropped her anchor.
Promptly the British seaman stationed at the compressor obeyed. The bower anchor fell with a sullen splash. Fathom after fathom of chain roared through the hawse-pipe.
Klick raised his hand as a signal for the cable to be checked. TheMyrawas still making sternway and showed no decided tendency to bring up. Another fifty fathoms of chain were paid out. Still the tramp dropped astern. She was now within half a cable's length of thePelikan, which to prevent herself being in collision was obliged to veer out her cable.
"The anchor's not holding, sir!" shouted the German petty officer in charge of the fo'c'sle party.
"Then let go a second anchor," yelled Klick excitedly. "Make them look sharp, or we'll be foul of thePelikan."
The unter-leutnant had no cause to complain of the lack of energy on the part of the prisoners. With the utmost dispatch the second anchor was let go. Before twenty fathoms, which alone ought to be sufficient to bring theMyrato a standstill, were paid out the whole of the cable of the first anchor had been made use of.
Suddenly a sullen roar was heard coming from down-stream. The Mohoro River at certain intervals, especially at extraordinary spring-tides, is subject to a bore. The bore is very erratic. Sometimes it is very much in evidence, at other times it is hardly perceptible; but there was no doubt that now it was of unusual magnitude.
Nearer and nearer came the wall of solid water, maintaining an unbroken wave towards the centre of the river. Close to the banks it broke heavily.
"Go full speed ahead or we'll be into you!" shouted Kapitan von Riesser frantically.
TheMyra'sengine-room telegraph clanged. Either by accident or design the British engineers were slow in replying. The tramp was only just forging ahead when the bore swept under thePelikan'scounter.
Round swept the raider, her stern just missing theMyra'staffrail. Fortunately her cables held, but not so the tramp.
With her engines going ahead and held tightly by the scope of her anchor-chain—for the anchors themselves, thanks to their dummy forelocks, were useless—the tramp headed uncontrollably towards the port-hand bank. In the midst of the tumult of water as the bore broke over her she struck and struck heavily.
In an instant the doomed vessel fell over on her beam-ends. With an appalling crash her funnels and masts went by the board. So sudden was the catastrophe that a dozen German seamen were trapped down below. Only by the narrowest margin did the British engine-room staff make their escape.
Of what occurred during the next few moments neither Denbigh nor O'Hara had any clear recollection. They found themselves standing on the side of the vessel. Captain Pennington, Armstrong, and Unter-leutnant Klick were there, too. Up for'ard the British seamen and half a dozen of the German prize crew were scrambling along the upturned sides, which were by this time barely three feet above the surface of the raging stream.
It was evident that the survivors had found only a very temporary place of refuge. The force of the current sweeping past the ship was wearing out a deep hole in the bed of the river, into which theMyrawas slowly subsiding. To attempt to escape by swimming was almost an impossibility, as the water surged and eddied past, forming a dangerous whirlpool close to the stern of the vessel.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Armstrong. "This is a proper wash-out. We've done the trick properly this time."
"Yes, it's more than we bargained for," added the Irishman. "I would never have believed that a craft of this size would be swallowed up so quickly."
Meanwhile Denbigh could not help noticing the marked difference in the demeanour of the British and German seamen, who by this time were up to their knees in water, and were soon, unless help were forthcoming, to be swept off their feet by the rush of the flood-tide.
The Huns were shouting dolorously for aid; theMyra'smen were either stoically silent or else inclined to indulge in grim jests at the expense of the bellowing Teutons.
Denbigh looked in the direction of thePelikan. The crew were engaged in lowering boats, and taking an extraordinarily long time about it, owing to the pronounced list of the raider and also to the fact that her decks were encumbered with her disguise of vegetation.
Unter-leutnant Klick was trembling violently. He, of all the officers taking refuge on the side of the tramp, had managed to procure a life-belt. Even the contemptuous glances of theMyra'sskipper failed to shame him.
Presently the first of thePelikan'sboats came tearing up-stream. It required all the strength of the oarsmen to check her way. An ironical cheer from the British seamen greeted her arrival.
"Women and children first!" they yelled derisively as the unter-leutnant and the surviving German seamen made a frantic rush for the boat.
Two of the Huns jumped short. Although good swimmers they were swirled away like pieces of straw, until, drawn into the vortex of the whirlpool, they disappeared.
The second boat, backing towards the deadly whirlpool, awaited the men's reappearance, but in vain. Then, attempting to run alongside the wreck, the frail craft bumped heavily upon a submerged part of the vessel and stove in a couple of planks. While two of the crew began to bale, the boat was swept several hundred yards up the river, for the remaining rowers were helpless against the flood.
Meanwhile the first boat, having rescued the unter-leutnant and the surviving German seamen, began to approach the wreck again; until Klick, in an agony of terror lest she, too, would meet with disaster, ordered the men to push off.
A third boat—a whaler—came upon the scene. Acting with great caution her coxswain brought her alongside and motioned to Denbigh and his companions to leap.
"Those men first," cried Captain Pennington, pointing to those of his crew who were still maintaining a precarious hold.
The coxswain understood and allowed his boat to drift down upon the handful of seamen. Coolly the British crew scrambled into safety, and the whaler, urged under the powerful strokes of the oarsmen, began to make her way aft.
Suddenly the almost submerged part on which Denbigh and his companions were standing gave a sickening shudder and disappeared beneath the surface. A swirl of water, surging with irresistible force, swept the four officers off their feet.
The next instant Denbigh found himself struggling for dear life in the foaming yellow water of Mohoro River. In spite of his peril, he could not help contrasting his involuntary bath with that of the previous night. Then the water was warm, tranquil, and evil-smelling. Unseen dangers assailed him on every hand. Now the same river was nothing less than a broiling cauldron.
With almost superhuman strength Denbigh struck out. Already he was within the influence of the deadly whirlpool. Spinning round and round he kept his face from the vortex, striving, but in vain, to overcome the suction of the gigantic eddy.
He could see no signs of his companions. Either they had already disappeared, or else they had been thrown beyond the range of the inverted cone that marked the position of the whirlpool.
Even in danger of imminent death, the sub recalled an incident in the Clarence Victualling Yard, several years ago. He had been taken by his father to see the process of manufacturing ships' biscuits. In one building he saw flour sliding down an inclined plane into a mixing machine. Mingled with the flour were several large maggots, that gave the name to the creek that forms the approach by water to the Victualling Yard. Finding themselves disturbed, the insects tried to wriggle back, but in vain. Down they slid till caught in the mixer, finally to form part of the ingredients of ship's biscuits.
"And I'm almost in the same boat as those weevils," thought Denbigh grimly, as he completed a circle for the twentieth time.
He was nearing the vortex. The spiral motion became quicker. An irresistible force was dragging him down.
Suddenly Denbigh threw up his arms. He was physically played out. Like an arrow he shot into the pit in the centre of that mass of whirling water. The blaze of the African sun gave place to intense darkness. He held his breath, until his lungs seemed to be on the point of bursting.
As rapidly as he had gone down the sub was shot to the surface. Again he was within the range of the whirlpool, for its centre, instead of being stationary, was moving in an ellipse.
Unable even to struggle, Denbigh was again sucked down. This time, incapable of holding his breath, he swallowed a quantity of water. The pressure on his chest was excruciating. Then torture gave place to a strange calmness. On an instant, recollections of practically the whole of his past life flashed across his mind. The mental pictures faded away and all became blank.