STRIKING the White Ensign and securing the guns the "Georgeos Nikolaos" awaited the expected breeze. It was not long in coming. Almost before the conflagration had burnt itself out in a succession of popping sounds, the placid surface was rippled by cat's paws that denoted something heavy behind it.
Heeling gently to the zephyr the felucca quickly gathered way and soon left the scene of her initial exploit far astern. By degrees the wind increased, until an extended milky-white wake gave evidence of her speed, while the long tiller vibrated under the pressure of the water against her rudder.
"Now she feels it, sir," remarked Mr. Gripper, as a squall struck the felucca full on the beam, and the tautened weather-shrouds twanged like harp-strings. "A thundering good job we know she's sound alow and aloft, for we're in for a tidy old dusting. There's something mighty heavy to windward," and he pointed to a bank of indigo-coloured clouds, the ruggededges of which were tinged with light grey and yellow hues.
"A couple of reefs in, don't you think?" asked the sub, raising his voice in order to make himself heard above the howling of the wind.
"Just as well, sir," agreed the gunner. "Seeing that we aren't in a hurry to get anywhere in particular we needn't run the risk of carrying away any of the gear for the sake of cracking on."
"Hands shorten sail!" bawled the sub.
Reefing was performed by the cumbersome process of lowering the heavy lateen yards on deck and rolling the foot of each sail sufficiently to allow the second row of reef points to be secured. The canvas was then rehoisted and sheeted home, but by this time the wind had dropped entirely. The tiller was charging from side to side under the severe buffeting of the waves against the useless rudder, until Mr. Gripper ordered the relieving tackle to be rove in order to prevent the helmsman's ribs being fractured by the flail-like blows of the oaken tiller. Save for the shaking of the sails and the clatter of the ropes and blocks against the mast a strange, almost uncanny silence prevailed. The air was hot and oppressive, while overhead the sky was overcast by a thick haze—the precursor of the storm cloud to which the gunner had called attention.
"Mind your helm," cautioned Farrar. "We'llget it hard in a moment. We don't want to be taken aback."
"There's no way on, sir," reported the quartermaster, who was assisting the helmsman at the recalcitrant tiller. "She won't answer to it."
Presently the ominous silence was torn by a shrill whistling sound—the forerunner of the approaching squall.
"Stand by fore and main sheets!" shouted the sub, as, with a sledge-hammer blow, the first of the storm burst upon the little craft.
In spite of her draught the "Georgeos Nikolaos" lay right over on her beam ends, the foam flying completely over her weather bulwarks, while the surging water was knee-deep in her lee scuppers. Spars groaned and creaked, ropes rattled against the masts like a round of machine-gun fire; blocks crashed against metal and timber work to the imminent danger of strops and sheaves, while on and below deck everything not securely lashed down broke adrift and added to the pandemonium.
For a few long-drawn seconds things looked black metaphorically and literally. It was a question whether the felucca would either capsize or be dismasted before she gathered way and answered to the helm; but nobly the hardly pressed craft responded to the challenge of the elements, and in a swelter of foam she threshed on her way through the tempestuousseas. So heavy were the rain squalls that at times it was impossible for the helmsman to discern the plunging bows, while the deck was hidden by the falling and rebounding hailstones.
"Hanged if I like that chunk of timber swaying aloft, sir!" bellowed the warrant officer, pointing to the ponderous main lateen yard. "She'll carry away her preventer back stays in a brace of shakes."
"We'll lower away the mainsail," decided Farrar. "She'll run comfortably then."
It was easier said than done to send down that long yard and secure it fore and aft. It took the united efforts of twenty men to master the stiff canvas that even when the yard was on deck was flogging and bellying out with the utmost fury, as if loath to submit to the indignity of being pinioned by the gaskets. At last the task was accomplished and the felucca, driving right before the gale, certainly made better weather of it.
For the best part of six hours the little craft ran. Both the sub and Mr. Gripper estimated her speed at eleven knots. At that rate she would soon be on a lee shore off the island of Crete, where harbours on the southern side are few and far between. The incessant rain and the blackness of the sky prevented any possibility of taking observations, and navigation became a matter of simple dead reckoning.
Presently the wind dropped almost to a flat calm. The crested seas, beaten down by the rain, subsided into long sullen rollers.
"Merely a lull," declared the warrant officer. "I've put in three commissions up the Straits, and I ought to know a bit about the weather by this time, or I'm a Dutchman. It'll veer and blow dead in our teeth."
"Up helm and let her lay to on the port tack," ordered the sub, glad to have the experience and resource of the warrant officer at his disposal. He thrust back the sliding hatch of the companion and glanced at an aneroid on the bulkhead. The barometer stood at 28.75", with a decided tendency to drop still lower.
"Wish to goodness we had fore and aft canvas instead of this unwieldy tackle," he thought, as the fore yard rattled in the slings and hammered against the raking mast with a succession of thuds that shook the vessel from truck to keel. "However, it's no use wanting what is not to be had. I'll have that foresail close reefed. If Gripper was right, we'll have plenty of sea room. Hullo, Stevenson, what is it now?"
This to the leading hand of the carpenter's crew, who had just come up from below.
"Three feet of water in the forehold, sir," he reported. "Maybe some of the gear's carried away and stove a plank, or else she's strained her forefoot."
Hands were immediately ordered to the pumps, with the result that the leak was soon got under control, but directly the wind piped up again the influx of water was resumed. Evidently the hammering of the sea had either started a plank or loosened some of her caulking, necessitating constant work with the powerful semi-rotary pumps with which the felucca had been supplied in lieu of the antiquated gadgets previously fitted to get rid of the bilge water.
But Petty Officer Stevenson was a man of many parts—one of those resourceful individuals whose value is not sufficiently appreciated by the Powers that Be. Calling for a couple of hands to volunteer for the hazardous work, he went below, and in the heaving, confined space of the forehold, set to work to remove a number of the barrels and chests at the immediate risk of being jammed between the heavy articles as they jolted and slid with every movement of the vessel. The sight of a steady stream of water rewarded his efforts. Betwixt wind and water one of the planks had been "started," probably by the impact of a piece of floating wreckage.
By means of a bit of tarred canvas with a backing of copper sheet Stevenson succeeded in stopping the leak, short pieces of timber being shored up between the ribs to make all secure, and at the end of two hours' hard and exhaustingwork the three men returned on deck, the petty officer making his satisfactory report as nonchalantly as if he had just carried out some trivial routine.
Throughout the rest of the day and the whole of the ensuing night, the "Georgeos Nikolaos" drove almost under bare poles, for sail had been reduced to a close-reefed foresail. Not a craft of any description had been sighted during the whole of that time. It was quite possible that more than once the felucca was in imminent danger of being run down by large steamers plying their way without lights through the trackless wastes; reasonable even to assume that she had sailed over U-boats that, to avoid the storm, were running submerged at a depth of a hundred to one hundred and fifty feet. More than once Farrar's thoughts flew to Billy Barcroft. He found himself picturing the "Avenger," and wondering how she was faring should the flying-boat happen to be caught out in the sudden storm. Long afterwards the sub made the discovery that Barcroft was "up" during the gale, and running serenely at a height of 8,000 feet, had passed within a few miles of the "Georgeos Nikolaos," for the "Avenger" was on her way to take up patrolling duties in the AEgean, where U-boats had been somewhat too active of late.
At daybreak the gale moderated. The inky clouds were disappearing to leeward, while thesun rising in a greyish mist betokened, in conjunction with a steadier glass, the approach of better weather. Still the sea ran high, the absence of rain causing the white-crested tips to curl and break viciously.
For the first time for thirty hours Farrar went below to enjoy a brief spell of welcome sleep. So dog-tired was he that he waited only to draw off his sea-boots, discard his oilskin, hurriedly drink a cup of cocoa and munch a couple of biscuits, than he threw himself into his bunk "all standing," and was soon lost to the world.
It seemed that he had been asleep for less than two minutes when a voice exclaimed,
"Large transport just torpedoed, sir; three miles on our starboard bow."
HIS utter weariness deserting him on the receipt of this disconcerting intelligence, Sub-Lieutenant Farrar leapt from his bunk, pulled on his boots, and ran up the companion ladder.
Already Mr. Gripper had called the men to action stations. The for'ard disappearing gun had been raised, its presence being hidden from outside observation by the foot of the reefed foresail. Prone on the deck lay the uniformed crew, alertly awaiting orders to man the quick-firers and strafe the lurking foe.
The sun was now shining brightly, although the wind was still strong—"Force Six," according to the warrant officer's report. A wicked-looking sea, white with foam, extended as far as the eye could reach, the monotonous crests being broken in one place by the grey hull of a badly listing vessel of about 8,000 tons.
The torpedoed craft lay well over to starboard and well down by the stern. Clouds of smoke and steam were issuing from amidships. Three pairs of davits were empty, while from afourth a boat hung vertically, crashing against the hull with the long sluggish movements of the sinking ship. The rest of the boats on the windward side were still hoisted, the captain evidently deciding that to attempt to lower in such a sea was a matter of impossibility, with certain risk of disaster. How the boats on the port side fared the felucca's people were unable to see, although bearing to leeward they stood a better chance of pulling clear of the foundering transport.
Upon the steeply sloping decks of the heeling vessel, numbers of khaki-clad figures could be discerned, drawn up in rigid lines. At frequent intervals a part of the line would break and disperse as the superbly disciplined troops were ordered to take their places in such of the boats that were still available.
"Makes you feel proud that you are British, sir," remarked the gunner. "Steady as a rock, those chaps, and not much of a chance for a boat in that turmoil. Shall we drop to lee'ard of her, sir?"
Before the sub could reply two dark grey poles showed upon the crest of a wave. A moment later the long sinister hull of the U-boat that had dealt the transport the mortal blow shook itself clear of the water.
Swept from end to end by the waves the U-boat's deck looked as if it afforded no foothold for any of her crew, but presently theconning-tower hatchway was thrown open, and half a dozen figures in black oilskins and seaboots made their way for'ard, hanging tenaciously the while to a wire lifeline.
Upon the platform surrounding the conning tower a tall figure, evidently that of the kapitan-leutnant, stood watching the approaching felucca through his binoculars. Cautiously Farrar removed his cap and crouched behind the plunging bulwarks, the while returning the compliment by keeping the U-boat under observation by means of his glasses.
The submarine's for'ard gun was raised, in spite of the fact that the gunners were frequently waist-deep in the surging waves. A flash and a shell hurtled through the air within a hundred yards of the bows of the "Georgeos Nikolaos."
It was an inhuman and peremptory order for the felucca to keep her distance, and not to attempt the rescue of any of the torpedoed transport's troops or crew.
Wishing to reduce the range and also to enable both guns to be brought to bear upon the unhallowed pirate craft, the sub ordered the helm to be starboarded, until the U-boat bore slightly ahead of the felucca's beam.
"Ready there?" shouted the young officer.
"Ay, ay, sir," replied the quietly confident gunlayers.
"By heavens, sir!" exclaimed the warrant officer. "Look at that—the murderous swine."
For the U-boat, not content with its work of torpedoing the transport, had opened fire upon one of the lifeboats that had pulled away from the lee side of the sinking ship. Having given the felucca orders to stand off, the Huns paid no more attention to the apparently harmless Greek trader until their cold-blooded equanimity was rudely disturbed.
With a deafening crash both quick-firers spoke simultaneously from the felucca's deck. Before the thin bluish haze of burnt cordite was dispersed, the shells had "got home." One, striking the U-boat's gun, swept it and its crew into nothingness; the other, bursting against the base of the conning tower, tore a huge rent in the steel deck, swept away the periscopes, and blistered the grey paint into a hideous yellow daub. When the smoke of the exploding missile had disappeared, the U-boat's kapitan-leutnant was observed gripping the shattered guard-rail with one hand, the other pressed to his side.
"We've got her!" exclaimed the delighted Mr. Gripper. "She can't dive, and these seas will fill her."
The German captain was evidently of the same opinion. Through his binoculars the sub saw that he was moving his jaw, as if shouting orders or questions to those of his crew in the interior of the pirate craft. Then a seaman's head and shoulders appeared through thehatchway, and a white flag fluttered in the strong wind.
"Napoo, laddie!" ejaculated the gunner. "You've all gone and done it this time."
He looked to Farrar for confirmation. The sub shook his head.
"Cease fire!" he ordered.
For the first time Mr. Gripper's mahogany-hued face expressed dissatisfaction at his youthful skipper's decision.
"I'd have blown the beasts to Hades!" he muttered.
"Down foresail!" ordered the sub. "Start her up."
Promptly the lateen yard was lowered on deck and the powerful motor began to throb and emit noisy explosions from her exhaust. Had the felucca to attempt to make dead to windward it was doubtful whether the engine would be of sufficient horse power to enable her to battle successfully against the force of wind and waves; but by running before the elements the "Georgeos Nikolaos" was adroitly manoeuvred close under the bow of the transport.
To leeward of the huge vessel there was comparatively still water. Unhesitatingly the felucca's helmsman placed her alongside the still crowded ship.
"Steady, lads!" shouted a strong voice without a tremor in the ringing tones. "Number Four platoon—dismiss."
Amidst the cheers of their comrades the sixty-odd men of the platoon scrambled, leapt, or swung themselves to the felucca's decks—bootless, coatless, and wearing lifebelts. The rescued troops were quickly sent below and the hatches battened down.
"Room for another thirty!" shouted the sub.
The required number fell out, the thirty-first patting the last of the party on the back and wishing him good luck. Then, deeply laden, the "Georgeos Nikolaos" backed away from the transport to the accompaniment of three ringing cheers from the two hundred-odd officers and men who, emulating the example of the "Birkenhead," remained drawn up upon the boat-deck.
"We'll try to keep in touch with the boats," declared Farrar, indicating the five deeply laden lifeboats that were drifting rapidly to lee'ard. "No sign of the U-boat?"
"Saw her founder just as we were rounding-to, sir," replied Sampson. "I guess there aren't any survivors from her," he added with grim satisfaction.
Presently the sub glanced aft. As he did so he gave a low whistle of surprise.
"By Jove, Mr. Gripper!" he exclaimed. "Look at the ensign."
He pointed to the Greek flag. In the excitement of the strafing operations it had not been struck and replaced by the White Ensign.
The warrant officer shrugged his shoulders.
"A mere detail, sir," he remarked.
"Fritz isn't in a position to protest," continued the sub, with ominous truth. "Main point is we've done the job neatly this time."
No further remark was made on the matter. Farrar was thinking now of other things—of the doomed transport with the band of heroes on her decks. Unable to do more to save life, for the lives of those already rescued would thereby be endangered, the officers and crew of the felucca were unwilling spectators of the last throes of the torpedoed vessel.
With the propeller running under the action of the partly throttled motor, the "Georgeos Nikolaos" was just able to keep pace with the far-flung line of boats. The latter, unable to run before the vicious seas and equally helpless to make headway, were riding to hastily constructed sea-anchors, which had the effect of keeping the boats' heads on to the waves.
On the transport men were hard at work knocking together rapidly made rafts—a frail chance, for even if the planks escaped being entangled in the rigging of the sinking ship, there was the terrific sea to contend with.
"She'll be gone in another quarter of an hour," declared Mr. Gripper.
The warrant officer stood on the weather bulwarks and, with one hand holding firmlythe tautened shrouds, levelled his glass at a point on the horizon.
"What is it, Mr. Gripper?" asked the sub.
The gunner did not immediately reply. Frequently enveloped in spray he hung on rigidly, gazing the while with a doubtful expression on his weather-beaten face.
Then he leapt down.
"It's all right, sir," he announced. "There's a destroyer making for her. She'll have to be quick about it, though," he added under his breath.
"S.O.S. MESSAGE through, sir," reported the yeoman of signals of H.M.S. "Antipas," saluting, as he handed Lieutenant-Commander Aubyn a signal pad.
The skipper took the proffered message, scrawled in indelible ink upon a flimsy sheet of damp paper, for the destroyer was making heavy weather of it.
Without a word Aubyn passed the message on to Holcombe, who was with his chief on the destroyer's bridge. The sub read the momentous appeal:
"Transport 'Epicyclic' torpedoed, sinking. Lat. 34° 20' 30" N., Long. 25° 15' 10" E."
"Reply, 'Am proceeding to your assistance,'" ordered the lieutenant-commander, addressing the waiting signalman. "South 50 East, quartermaster," he added, as he passed the steam steering-wheel on his way to the chart-room.
Aubyn could have delegated the setting out of the new course to his sub-lieutenant, butconscientious in all matters he himself took parallel rulers and dividers and laid off the compass course that would bring the "Antipas" to the position indicated by the sinking "Epicyclic."
"Not so dusty, eh?" he remarked to Holcombe, when the result was obtained. The preliminary direction he had given to the quartermaster was only half a degree out. "Seventy-two miles: two and a half hours' run. Let's hope we'll be in time."
A shadow fell athwart the chart. Both officers turned to find the barefooted signalman standing at the open door.
"Can't get no reply from 'er, sir," he reported.
"H'm! Dynamos out of action, I suppose," observed Aubyn. "Looks bad. All right; carry on."
The "Antipas" was cleared for action. Stanchion rails were stowed; only life-lines, led fore and aft, serving to prevent men from being washed overboard. Everything on deck was battened down, for in spite of her high fo'c'sle and exaggerated "flare" in her bows the destroyer was shipping green seas right over her bridge, the water almost instantly changing into clouds of vapour as it drifted aft against the red-hot funnels. The destroyer had just entered the limits of the path of the storm experienced by the "Georgeos Nikolaos," and on her new course she was making for the centreof the severe atmospheric disturbances. In really dirty weather a craft of this type is one of the most undesirable that can be imagined, for possessing great length to a comparatively small beam she drives through rather than over the waves, while to the vibrations imparted by the pulsations of the powerful engines must be added the disconcerting hogging and sagging of the lightly built hull.
On her errand of succour the "Antipas" was running great risks, apart from the danger of carrying on at full speed through the gale. In the rain storms there were chances of colliding with other vessels summoned by the general wireless S.O.S., while the U-boat that had dealt the transport the fatal blow might be lying in wait, possibly with others, to repeat her exploit by torpedoing some of the rescuing ships. Yet, in spite of the triple risk, Aubyn, like every one of his brother officers of the Senior Service, had not the slightest hesitation in proceeding to the scene of the disaster.
There were soon indications that others of His Majesty's ships had picked up the "Epicyclic's" S.O.S. Wireless messages in code were picked up, which, by reference to the secret code book, were found to have been sent from the destroyers "Antigone" and "Amaxila," although both were several miles farther from the scene than was the "Antipas."
At about one bell in the forenoon watch thelook out reported a tramp bearing two miles on the destroyer's port bow. Ordered to "make her number" the vessel proved to be the s.s. "Andromeda" of Avonmouth, bound for Damietta.
"Very good," commented Holcombe, who was officer of the watch at the time. "Signal to her that a hostile submarine has been reported in latitude and longitude so and so "—giving the position indicated in the "Epicyclic's" message for aid. "We don't want to spend the whole day in picking up torpedoed crews."
A quarter of an hour later the "Andromeda" was out of sight, and the "Antipas," swept again and again by the terrific seas, held swiftly on her course.
"We'll have a deuce of a job, Mr. Holcombe," remarked Aubyn, as he rejoined his junior officer on the bridge. "Unless the weather moderates it will be a touch-and-go business to run alongside—that is, if the transport's still afloat."
"She may be able to pump oil overboard," suggested Holcombe. "According to——"
"Periscope on the port bow!" shouted a voice that, although stentorian in volume, was only just audible above the howling of the wind and the hiss of the flying spray.
The gunlayer of the for'ard quick-firer was quick on the mark, but a peremptory order caused him to relax his hold on the trigger of the firing-pistol. Only just in time did Aubyndetect the real nature of the supposed periscope: a portion of a foretop mast that, weighted down, was floating in a vertical position.
It was one of those common instances that would bring a volley of chaff upon the head of the mistaken look-out man, but it is also an indication of the effect of the mental and physical strain that arises from constant expectation of sighting the outward and visible sign of the modern pirate.
"No deception this time, sir," observed Holcombe, as a burst of brilliant sunshine lit up the sinking transport, which had hitherto been hidden in the scud.
"We're in time, I fancy," said the lieutenant-commander, "Fritz and other trivialities permitting."
With the guns' crews keeping a sharp look out for U-boats the "Antipas" circled completely round the "Epicyclic," pumping out gallons of crude oil as she passed to windward. Then, seizing her opportunity, the destroyer ran alongside the sinking ship on the leeward side—Aubyn had had to do this manoeuvre several times before, and was getting expert—and was made fast while the remaining Tommies and the officers and crew gained safety on the destroyer's deck.
It was an anxious ten minutes, for in spite of flexible "springs" and huge "pudding fenders" the lightly built "Antipas" was grindingheavily against the heeling sides of the transport, the port bilge keel of which was momentarily above the oil-quelled waves; but with no other casualty amongst the destroyer's crew beyond a petty officer having received a nasty "nip," the "Antipas" drew clear.
Before she had put two cables' lengths between her and the transport the latter's bows rose higher in the air, at an angle of sixty degrees. To the accompaniment of a super-cloud of smoke and steam the torpedoed vessel glided, rather than plunged, beneath the surface of the iridescent water.
The bark of the after four-inch quick-firer instantly diverted Sub-Lieutenant Holcombe's attention from the impressive spectacle of the sinking ship and the comparatively insignificant sight, though none the less to be ignored, of a torpedo cleaving through the waves. The missile had apparently been badly adjusted, for it shot clear of the water as it passed the trough of the heavy seas. Nevertheless it was heading straight for the bows of the rapidly moving destroyer; and had the mutual speed and direction been maintained, the weapon would have struck the "Antipas" amidships.
The gunlayer had been exceptionally smart on his sights. Even as the lively helmed destroyer swung round, listing heavily as she did so, a shell struck the water directly in front of the locomotive weapon. A tremendous waterspout and a deafening crash announced that a Schwartzkopff torpedo had ended its career in a manner not anticipated by its Hunnish makers or the Black Cross pirates on board the lurking U-boat.
For the next twenty minutes that U-boat had a most unpleasant time, for in spite of the heavy seas the alert destroyer "cut rings" round the spot where the periscopes were seen in the act of disappearing. Depth charges were brought into action, but whether the powerful explosions strained the submarine's hull and caused her to sink for good and all, or whether she succeeded in evading the terrible menace, neither Aubyn nor his officers and crew were able to determine. In any case, Fritz had received such a severe mental shock that the U-boat made no further attempt to torpedo the destroyer and the heavy load of rescued men.
"What's that craft doing, sir, I wonder?" asked Holcombe, calling his skipper's attention to a two-sticked sailing vessel lying head to wind at about four miles to leeward.
"Dunno; but we'll soon find out," was the laconic rejoinder, for Aubyn was perfectly aware that U-boats have been known to receive information from supposedly harmless neutrals.
The "Antipas" turned, steadied on her helm, and bore down upon the suspicious craft. On decreasing the distance the officers discoveredby means of their binoculars that she was a felucca flying the Greek mercantile flag, while strung out to leeward of her were four of the transport's boats.
"She's been on the rescuing stunt, sir," observed Holcombe.
"P'r'aps," added Aubyn. "And when there's nothing about she'll start sinking them. Greek, yes—perhaps. More than likely a Levantine in German or Turkish pay."
Asked by International Code to make her number, the felucca ran up a hoist of four flags. Reference to the signal book did not elucidate matters, for the letters comprising the vessel's "number" did not appear upon the latest edition of the code book.
"Her deck is simply crowded," reported Holcombe.
"Rescued Tommies," explained the lieutenant commander.
"And men in naval rig, as well as a sprinkling of picturesque-looking villains, sir," continued the sub. "Unless I'm much mistaken she's carrying a couple of guns."
Visions of the prospect of capturing an armed raider, albeit a small one, flashed across Aubyn's mind. At this pleasurable anticipation he displayed his white teeth in a broad smile.
"Signal her to heave to until the weather moderates," he ordered. "The 'Antigone'and 'Amaxila' can't be so very far off. When they put in an appearance we can board the felucca while they buzz round for Fritzes."
"Those fellows in the boats are having a rough time," remarked Holcombe. "They're riding to sea-anchors, but there's plenty of water breaking inboard."
"Yes," agreed the skipper of the "Antipas," who knew by experience what life on board an open boat in a heavy sea meant. "But for the present we can do nothing. A boat load of landlubbers trying to board us with this tumble on would stand as much chance as a cripple trying to climb Nelson's Monument."
Maintaining an erratic zigzag course the "Antipas" steamed round and round the felucca and the boats, until with the arrival of her sister ships and the subsidence of the gale she was able to make a closer acquaintance with the suspicious-looking Greek.
At three bells in the first dog watch a large vessel was sighted bearing down in the direction of the destroyers. The "Antigone" steamed off to offer protection against U-boat attack, while the new arrival, which proved to be the empty transport "Hopalong," manoeuvred to windward of the boats in order to receive the survivors of the ill-fated "Epicyclic."
With the rapidly subsiding sea this was done without delay or loss. The "Antipas" then discharged her complement of supernumeraries,while the felucca was ordered by signal to run under the "Hopalong's" lee.
"You might board her, Mr. Holcombe," suggested Lieutenant-Commander Aubyn. "See that her papers are all in order, and find out what those guns mean."
"I may have been mistaken, sir," said the sub, giving the felucca another glance through his glasses; "but I'm hanged if I can see any signs of guns now."
"All the more reason for a strict search," rejoined the skipper grimly. "Once when I was on examination service in the North Sea I came across a short-calibred quick-firer stored in the case of a grand piano. Quite a bit of luck on my part, though," he added modestly. "The thing was in the main saloon of a supposedly Norwegian passenger and cargo boat. There was a bit of a lop on—almost as bad as it was this morning—and one of my men, an R.N.V.R. who hadn't quite found his sea legs, was shot clean on top of the blessed piano, rifle and all. I apologised to the master for the damage done, but the old chap seemed mighty particular to let the matter drop—too mighty particular I thought. So I had the top lifted—deuce of a job, for the old rascal of a skipper swore he'd lost the key. Nothing much doing at first sight—only wires and hammers and all that sort of fakelorum appertaining to pianos; but sure enough, my testing rod rasped against metalthat was a jolly sight too solid even for an iron-framed 'Grand.' Yes, it was all U P with the ship. No more a Norwegian than I was, but a commerce raider two days out of Swinemunde. So you see, Mr. Holcombe, it's up to us to 'frustrate their knavish tricks.' It's our job; but as to 'confounding their politics,' well——"
The lieutenant-commander shrugged his broad shoulders. Like many another naval and military officer he had about as much admiration for the British diplomatic service as the office cat.
As soon as the felucca ran alongside the "Hopalong" Holcombe took the destroyer's whaler and an armed crew and boarded the object of his suspicions.
The felucca's deck was now almost deserted. The last of the rescued Tommies had been taken on board the transport. There were no men in naval uniform; only a handful of moustachioed Greeks.
"Where's your capitano?" demanded Holcombe, trusting that some of the crew spoke English.
The only reply he received was a prodigious grin and a most exasperating wink.
"Dash you, you fat-headed rascal!" exclaimed the incensed sub; "do you or do you not understand? Are you the captain? Where are your papers?"
Again a stolid movement of the fellow's left eye was the sole response.
"Cast off there!" ordered Holcombe. "Hanged if I won't have you taken in tow and introduce you to the Prize Court at Valetta."
Some of the whaler's crew cast off the hawser by which the "Georgeos Nikolaos" was made fast alongside the "Hopalong." The transport, with a destroyer in attendance, shaped a course to the nor'west, while the felucca was left rolling in the long swell.
Meanwhile Holcombe, ordering the Greek master to stand back—which he did with considerable alacrity to avoid the butt-end of one of the bluejackets' rifle descending upon his toes—proceeded to make a thorough overhaul of the presumed prize.
"Thought so!" he exclaimed triumphantly, as one of the seamen threw back the awning over the boat amidships, revealing a quick-firer. "A German gun, by the powers! Good enough, Knight. Clap those dirty-looking rascals under hatches. Flannigan," he continued, addressing a signalman, "semaphore the 'Antipas' and report that we have discovered the prize to be armed with a German-made quick-firer."
"Two, sir," corrected the signalman. "There's one on disappearing mountings up for'ard."
"Better still," chortled the hugely delighted sub. "Now, you blighters, you're under escort—can do? Savvy? Comprenez? Verstehen Sie das? Oh, chuck it with that infernal wink of yours!"
The Greek amiably complied with Holcombe's rather ungracious request, but promptly raised one eyebrow, which exasperated the sub still more. But just at that moment the fellow's facial contortions proved too much for the adhesibility of his moustache, which fell to the deck, revealing the features of Sub-Lieutenant Nigel Farrar.
"Slogger, you—you—you——!" exclaimed the astounded Holcombe. "What on earth are you doing in this rotten rig-out?"
"Allow me to correct you on a few points, old bird," said Farrar. "In the first place, 'on earth' is hardly appropriate; secondly, my get-up could not be so very rotten, for it got the weather side of you."
"Well, carry on," rejoined Holcombe tentatively.
"There's little to tell," replied his chum. "We are on a strafing stunt. Bagged two Fritzes already. Wonder the skipper of the 'Epicyclic' hadn't given the show away."
This certainly was a puzzler. Later inquiries showed, however, that the officers and crew of the torpedoed transport were so occupied with the task of getting the boat away and anxious concerning the presence of the U-boat that they had failed to notice the approach of the little felucca. Nor did they attribute the strafing of the submarine to her agency, putting down the explosion to internal causes.
"Your independent cruise was kept very much in the dark as far as we were concerned," said Holcombe. "We hadn't the faintest inkling of it when we left Malta."
"Let's hope the secret won't out a while—at least, as far as Fritz is concerned," rejoined Farrar. "We're just beginning to like the job."
IT was two days later that the "Georgeos Nikolaos" ran under the stern of the "Andromeda," and the astute von Loringhoven had detected theraison d'êtreof what appeared to be at first sight a nondescript Mediterranean trading felucca. In happy ignorance of what had occurred the "Georgeos Nikolaos" carried on with a fair amount of success, never turning the tables on a U-boat until she was practically certain of making a proper job of the business.
On the thirteenth day after leaving Malta the felucca turned her bows westward. Provisions were showing signs of running short, while the crowded state of the little craft made it undesirable to keep the seas for any great length of time.
With a following wind the "Georgeos Nikolaos," carrying all sail, footed it merrily. Provided the breeze held, another five days ought to see her safely in the Grand Harbour.
"We haven't done so badly, sir," remarked Mr. Gripper, pointing to the heads of five brightly polished brass nails which were driven into thetiller, each nail representing a "bag." "Although I says it as shouldn't, it's something to be proud of. We may get another Fritz to-day. It's our thirteenth day out, and thirteen is my lucky number."
"Is that so?" asked the sub, not with any particular display of enthusiasm. It was the mere idea of being able to talk that prompted him, for beyond a few necessary orders Farrar hardly exchanged a word when the warrant officer was not on deck, for the medico, being of a very retiring nature, spent most of his leisure hours below, "swotting" at scientific books.
"Fact," declared the gunner vehemently, as if wishing to push home an unacceptable truth. "I entered Greenwich School on the thirteenth, an' got my warrant rank thirteen years later. It was November 13th, two years ago, when we torpedoed the German light cruiser 'Pelikan,' and my share of the prize money, awarded thirteen months later, was £130, which is ten times thirteen. So I'm in hopes of pulling off something to-day."
"Let's hope so," added Farrar.
"Hope so, sir? It's more than a question of hope. There, didn't I say so?" he added as a seaman raised the shout of "Submarine on the starboard bow, sir."
There was no doubt about it. Quite four miles away, but showing up clearly in theslanting rays of the rising sun, was a large submarine running on the surface, although the curvature of the sea permitted only the conning tower to be visible.
"She's heading this way—straight for us," said the gunner gleefully. "Wonder if it's her thirteenth day?"
"Up helm, quartermaster," ordered the sub. "We'll have to lure her a bit."
The felucca was turned until she lay on a northerly course. Almost immediately afterwards the U-boat altered helm, until she was running in the same direction as her prey, but without making any effort to decrease the distance.
"Hanged if I like that at all," soliloquised Nigel. "Looks as if she smells a rat. 'Bout ship," he shouted. "Down helm."
The "Georgeos Nikolaos" tacked and lay close hauled in exactly the opposite direction to the course she had previously taken. The U-boat followed suit, but still refused to close. She flew no ensign, hoisted no signal—merely "marking time" on the felucca.
"What's she fooling about like that for, sir?" asked Mr. Gripper. "Is she funking it?"
"It's my belief that she's suspicious of something," replied the sub. "She's waiting till the sun is a bit higher. At present it's right behind us. Shouldn't be surprised if she started to shell us."
"It's a tidy range for our quick-firers," remarked the gunner dubiously. "Ten thousand yards; wonder if her guns are effective at that distance?"
A moment later the screech of a projectile was heard overhead, followed by the detonation of the U-boat's gun. The shell, striking the sea nearly a thousand yards beyond the felucca, ricochetted four or five times before finally disappearing beneath the surface.
The gunner gave a low whistle.
"That's some shot, Mr. Gripper," observed Nigel.
"It is, sir," agreed the warrant officer. "A high velocity and a flat trajectory. Did you notice something very peculiar? The projectile passed over us before we heard the report."
"Meaning that the velocity of the shell is greater than that of the sound."
"That's it, sir. Something new as far as U-boats' guns go."
Having made a trial shot the submarine fired again. This time the shell fell short, ricochetting and passing within fifty yards of the felucca's stern.
"She means business," declared Farrar. "There's only one thing to be done. Since she can do a good sixteen knots we can't give her the slip, so we'll try and close. Hoist the ensign. Bow gun open fire."
Sighted at the maximum elevation the felucca'sfour-inch replied to the U-boat's challenge. The projectile fell hopelessly short. Again the quick-firer spoke, with similar results. The gun was decidedly outranged.
For nearly twenty minutes the U-boat withheld her fire, maintaining her distance, and at the same time describing an arc of a circle in order to take advantage of the position of the sun. An overfed bulldog might just as well attempt to chase a greyhound as the felucca to close with her opponent.
With the White Ensign streaming proudly in the breeze the "Georgeos Nikolaos" maintained her vain attempt, firing with both guns at regular intervals. She was in a tight corner, for when the Hun settled down to work the result would be a foregone conclusion, unless aid from another source were speedily forthcoming. Already the felucca's wireless was sending out messages, but no responsive crackling came in reply to her call. The U-boat was jamming the wireless waves by means of her more powerful installation.
The men, although fully acquainted with their hazardous position, were in high spirits, laughing and chaffing as they lay prone upon the deck, for with the exception of the bluejackets serving the quick-firers they had been ordered to take the frail shelter provided by the felucca's bulwarks.
The "Georgeos Nikolaos" was now bowson to her opponent. Although unable to gain on the U-boat she nevertheless presented a smaller target than had she exposed the whole of her broadside. Under sail and power she was doing a good eleven knots, but it was practically useless compared with the submarine's sixteen or seventeen.
Suddenly a cloud of black smoke rose from the U-boat's deck. When it dispersed under the force of the stiff breeze Fritz was no longer to be seen.
"She's gone an' busted!" shouted an exuberant bluejacket, and the men gave vent to a cheer. Their satisfaction increased when, nearly half an hour later, the felucca sailed through a large patch of oil in the midst of which were floating some charred pieces of wood and several canvas-covered caps.
"A sixth nail in the tiller, sir," remarked the warrant officer. "Our thirteenth day out, you'll remember."
"Not so sure about it, Mr. Gripper," objected the sub. "In any case, we didn't strafe her. Ah! I thought so," he exclaimed, as the twin periscopes of the U-boat appeared at a distance of less than five hundred yards in the felucca's wake. "Wing her, Sampson."
The submarine was playing with her prey like a cat with a mouse. Under the camouflage of the clouds of smoke she dived, to reappear—this time astern of the "Georgeos Nikolaos."
Smart as was the gunlayer of the after quick-firer, the U-boat was smarter. Before the weapon could be swung round and the sights adjusted she had disappeared again.
When after a considerable interval the U-boat broke surface she was well out of range of the felucca's guns, although quite within a striking distance with her own, for a shell burst within a stone's throw of the British craft's quarter, the flying fragments knocking splinters from the bulwarks and holing the sails in twenty different places.
At Mr. Gripper's suggestion a tar-barrel with a long pole wedged into the bung-hole, and so weighted that the pole floated vertically, was quickly rigged up and thrown overboard. For a while it served its purpose, for the pursuing U-boat, spotting what appeared to be a periscope, sheered off until she had wasted half a dozen shells before blowing the barrel into a thousand fragments.
Then, her patience being exhausted, the U-boat set to work in grim earnest to pulverise the felucca. Completely outranged and outclassed, the "Georgeos Nikolaos" nevertheless put up a gallant fight, although none of her shells went within half a mile of her foe.
A direct hit brought both masts down, littering her deck with splinters, shouldering canvas, and a tangle of ropes. The ponderous lateen yards trailing over the side set up adrag against which the motor was powerless, and describing a quadrant of a circle the felucca lost way, broadside on to her assailant.
Already several of the men were stricken to the deck, some slain outright, others writhing in agony from severe splinter wounds. Amid the flying fragments of shells the youthful doctor set to work to render first aid, coolly heedless of the fact that the felucca was doomed.
The "Georgeos Nikolaos" was sinking. She was also on fire for'ard. The bow gun, with its disappearing mountings, had "disappeared" in a most unorthodox way, having been completely blown overboard, together with the men who served it. Yet not a soul on board gave one thought of surrendering. Although with few exceptions members of the auxiliary service, they were fully imbued with the glorious traditions of the White Ensign. So long as a plank remained under their feet, they were grimly determined to fight on, working the remaining gun in stubborn defiance, yet the while conscious that they were firing for firing's sake since the comparatively puny weapon was innocuous to the foe.
A fragment of shell struck down the gunner as he stood at Farrar's side. It was a dangerous wound, but beyond an ashy greyness of his features the staunch warrant officer gave no indication of his physical pain.
"Dash it all!" he exclaimed. "My luck'schanged this trip—and the thirteenth too!" and straightway relapsed into unconsciousness.
A steady flow of warm fluid trickled over the sub's right eyebrow. Under the impression that it was perspiration he mopped it with his handkerchief, to discover that blood was running from a clean cut on his forehead. In the excitement he had failed to experience any sensation of pain when a splinter of flying metal struck him a glancing blow.
At length the U-boat ceased firing, for the felucca's after gun had been put out of action by a direct hit upon the open breech-block that had destroyed the intercepted thread-locking arrangement. Yet it seemed rather unusual for a Hun, getting the best of things, to cease fire as long as there was anything in the nature of a target to aim at.
One glance showed the sub the reason. The White Ensign had been blown away.
Another ensign was soon forthcoming. With one hand Farrar lashed it to a boat-hook staff, and defiantly displayed the emblem of freedom.
Fritz's reply was not long in coming. A shell struck the "Georgeos Nikolaos" just abaft the stump of the foremast, playing havoc on board and tearing a hole 'twixt wind and water. It was thecoup de grâce. Half stifled by the pungent fumes of the T.N.T., his vision affectedby the noxious smoke, the sub found himself striking out in a turmoil of broken water amidst a dozen or more of his devoted crew.
As the smoke dispersed, drifting in eddying clouds far to leeward, Farrar was able to obtain a clearer view of his surroundings. All around, the surface of the agitated sea was thick with pieces of timber of various sizes and shapes. Planks from the still-sinking vessel were shooting upwards through the air with terrific violence, to fall again and strike the water with resounding smacks. Twenty yards away floated the felucca's boat that had been wrenched from its securing lashings as the craft sank. It was keel upwards, a portion of the stern had been shattered, and there were other injuries from shell fire. No longer seaworthy the boat still served a purpose by supporting four or five bluejackets who were clinging to her bilge-keels.
A little farther away was the large part of the foremast with the lateen yards, and some of the scorched canvas still secured. Several men were already astride the spar, while others, some pushing planks before them, were making for the frail place of safety.
"Here's our skipper, lads!" shouted Sampson, who, with a stained bandage round his forehead and another encircling his left arm above the elbow, was astride the spar and busily engaged in securing planks to form a rough-and-ready raft. "Come on, sir; there's plenty of room in the stalls."
"I'm rather late for the performance, I think," replied the sub, recognising that cheerfulness would go a long way to "winning through."
"Not a bit of it, sir," replied the gun-layer. "The blessed overture's only just finished. Show that gentleman to one of the front seats, please. Sorry the programmes ain't printed, sir; put it down to shortage of paper."
Assisted by a couple of seamen, for the sub's strength had been heavily taxed, Farrar was lifted on to a long plank lashed between the yard and the broken foremast. Of the felucca's crew there were about twenty survivors, all showing visible tokens of the merciless shell fire. Mr. Gripper, still unconscious, was lying on the highest part of the raft; even there the waves were continually breaking over him, requiring the constant attention of a couple of hands to prevent his being washed into the sea. The surgeon-probationer was missing, inquiry eliciting the information that he was attending a badly wounded man in the main hold when the felucca foundered.
The survivors were, for the most part, boisterously cheerful—almost idiotically so. The disaster gave them a chance of breaking away from the restraint of shipboard, and like a crowd of children unexpectedly let out of school,they joked, chaffed each other, and even engaged in horseplay as they worked to make good their crazy raft.
Meanwhile the U-boat was standing by at a distance of a little less than a mile. Her deck was crowded, the crew coming up from below to gloat over their glorious victory, while on the conning-tower platform a group of officers was intently watching by means of telescopes and binoculars the efforts of the felucca's survivors.
This was practically the only part of the affair that riled the British bluejackets. They had groused when the U-boat had refused to throw away the advantage of her superior ordnance; they had taken their gruelling like true specimens of the bulldog breed; they realised that it was quite playing the game for the Hun to strafe them and "get her own back" on the armed felucca for her activity in ridding the sea of a few pirate craft. But the survivors objected strongly to Fritz standing by and jeering at their sorry plight. According to British notions it wasn't playing the game. Abandon the helpless men to their fate—that is expected of the Hun—but to remain within sight and crow over them, was almost as bad as if the U-boat had kept on firing until the massacre was completed.
"The best part of the day is before us, lads!" exclaimed their youthful skipper, althoughthe tone of his voice sounded strained and unnatural. Now that the heat of the fight was over he was feeling the effects of his wound. There had been comparatively little loss of blood, and this had the effect of increasing the pain of the contusion, while the tightly adjusted bandage seemed to cut into his forehead.
"That's so, sir," replied one of the men. "But it's a long, long way to Malta. Guess we're making half a knot, sir."
"Wot's Fritz up to now?" inquired another, pointing in the direction of the hostile submarine.
The U-boat was forging ahead straight for the raft. Most of her crew were below, the others, save for the men at the for'ard quick-firer, were mustered aft.
At a cable's length away from the handful of survivors from the "Georgeos Nikolaos" she reversed engines, losing way within easy hailing distance. There were three officers on the navigating platform—a short man in the uniform of a kapitan-leutnant, an unter-leutnant, and a third in a great-coat, but showing no badges of rank.
"Where have I seen that josser before?" pondered Farrar. "By Jove, I have it! Von Loringhoven!"
The recognition was mutual, for the supernumerary officer pointed to the British sublieutenant and spoke a few rapid sentences to the kapitan-leutnant of the U-boat.
The latter turned and rapped out an order in hasty, guttural tones. With the utmost alacrity half a dozen hands unfolded a canvas boat, and launched her from the U-boat's deck. Manned by two seamen and the unter-leutnant, who held the tiller in one hand and ostentatiously brandished an automatic pistol in the other, the boat pulled towards the raft.
"You prisoner are," announced the German officer, addressing the sub. "Mit me you come must in dis boat."
"Let's fight it to a finish, sir," whispered Sampson. "We can do in this brass-bound swanker, and I reckon with his pistol I'll be able to score off those grinning Fritzes before we're knocked out."
Farrar shook his head.
"It's no use offering further resistance, Sampson," he replied. "They evidently require me rather badly. I don't want the hands to make any demonstration to upset the Huns. They seem pretty bad tempered as it is."
"Haste make!" snarled the unter-leutnant.
"Good luck, men!" exclaimed the sub. "I hope to see you again soon."
He stepped into the boat and was taken alongside the submarine. Under the direction of the unter-leutnant, the prisoner was removed below, hatches were battened down, and thedisappearing guns lowered into the water-tight house. Judging by the kapitan-leutnant's excited orders the U-boat was in a hurry. She dived steeply and was lost to sight.
For some moments the handful of bluejackets on the raft gazed at the swirl that marked the spot where the U-boat had disappeared; then Sampson gave vent to a loud shout.
"Hurrah, my hearties!" he announced. "Here comes a destroyer."
The men cheered, but not with their customary vigour, for they remembered that they had lost their young commanding officer.
"An' another five minutes would have made all the difference," said one sententiously.
"No wonder Fritz was in a bloomin' hurry."