"T.B.D. S167."KIEL.
"DEAR SIR,—"In answer to your letter, I hasten to send this by the next dispatch. I know your friends, Herr Hamerton and Herr Detroit, are in Heligoland, so there must be a mistake in the story that they met with a disaster. How I know is this: my brother Sigismund is in S174, one of the boats operating with us when I fell overboard and was rescued by your friends. Directly I was landed I wrote to him assuring him of my safety, and describing the yacht and her crew who treated me so kindly. In his reply he told me the English yacht was lying off Heligoland, and that Herr Hamerton and his friend had landed to be the guests of one of our German officers. The next day the yacht was towed away—I think it was to Bremen—to undergo some repairs. The Englishmen remained. Five days ago my brother's torpedo-boat destroyer S174 left for the purpose of towing her back to Heligoland. She has apparently been delayed by bad weather, for she has not yet returned. This ought to dispel any doubts in your mind concerning an accident to your friends. We leave for Stettin to-morrow on a three-weeks' cruise."With respects,"Yours,"HANS PFEIL."
"DEAR SIR,—
"In answer to your letter, I hasten to send this by the next dispatch. I know your friends, Herr Hamerton and Herr Detroit, are in Heligoland, so there must be a mistake in the story that they met with a disaster. How I know is this: my brother Sigismund is in S174, one of the boats operating with us when I fell overboard and was rescued by your friends. Directly I was landed I wrote to him assuring him of my safety, and describing the yacht and her crew who treated me so kindly. In his reply he told me the English yacht was lying off Heligoland, and that Herr Hamerton and his friend had landed to be the guests of one of our German officers. The next day the yacht was towed away—I think it was to Bremen—to undergo some repairs. The Englishmen remained. Five days ago my brother's torpedo-boat destroyer S174 left for the purpose of towing her back to Heligoland. She has apparently been delayed by bad weather, for she has not yet returned. This ought to dispel any doubts in your mind concerning an accident to your friends. We leave for Stettin to-morrow on a three-weeks' cruise.
"With respects,"Yours,"HANS PFEIL."
"There, old man, what do you think of that?"
Smith puffed vigorously at his pipe for a minute or so. His knitted eyebrows showed that he was deep in thought.
"Fishy; decidedly fishy," he remarked. "Stirling, you stand a chance of pulling off your scoop after all. It is fishy—very. TheDiomeda, lying here in Delfzyl, is supposed to be at Bremen for repairs. The German destroyer S174 is supposed to be sent to tow her back. I wonder whether that vessel that is persistently hanging about off the entrance to the Dollart is S174?"
"We'll find out," said Stirling decisively. "Come along. Van Wyk will be able to tell us."
They found the old harbourmaster in his office.
"The number of that German destroyer?" he repeated. "I know not; but since you are curious I can find out. Come with me to the quay; theMaashas just returned. It is possible that Captain Jan will be able to tell us."
Captain Jan van Hoes, the skipper of the botterMaas, was sitting on the brightly painted skylight of his craft. A long pipe was in his mouth; his hands were deep in his voluminous pockets; his legs, encased in stiff baggy, trousers, were thrust out straight in front of him.
"Passed that German craft, aye, that I did," said the old skipper, without removing either his pipe or his hands. "Steaming south-south-west about four miles outside Rottumeroog. S174 was her number. Saw it through my glass as plainly as I can see the town-hall clock."
"Thank you for your information," said Stirling, offering the old fellow a gulden. Captain Jan looked at the coin, began to draw one hand from his pocket, and then slowly thrust it back again.
"I want no money for doing nothing, Mynheer," he said. "You are welcome to what I have told you."
"Look here," began Smith, when the two Englishmen regained the deck of theDiomeda, "this job wants any amount of tact. I don't think I'd telegraph the information. It will keep a few hours longer."
"And what then?"
"Get back to London as fast as you can. Don't mind me; I can hang on here very comfortably. See your editor and explain matters to him. He'll be able to deal with the business far more diplomatically than either you or I can. If he thinks fit to publish the news, well and good; but my private opinion is that he will communicate with the Foreign Office. The British and United States ambassadors in Berlin will be instructed to ask a few questions, and in less than a week Hamerton and Detroit will be set at liberty."
"But supposing Thompson decides otherwise?"
"Then there'll be war between Great Britain and the United States on the one hand and Germany on the other, unless Germany climbs down. Popular sentiment will be raised to such a pitch that war will be inevitable. But Thompson won't, except as a last resource. Now pack up and clear out. You'll just manage to catch the Harwich boat."
Sixteen hours later Stirling entered the private office of Harold Bennett, the editor ofThe Yachtsman's Journal. Bennett eyed him sadly, for Stirling's "special" looked as if it meant a financial loss to the already slender resources of the paper.
"I've found out something," exclaimed Stirling excitedly. "Hamerton and Detroit are alive. They are in Heligoland. There is every reason to believe that they are imprisoned as spies under the names of John and William Smith."
"Have you proof?"
"Yes."
"Then why in the name of thunder didn't you wire? We've just gone to press, and there'll be nearly a week's delay. I'm bound to inform Thompson, and by next Friday the news will be as stale as anything. Anyhow, let's have the story."
Not a word did Bennett speak while Stirling was relating the incidents of his stay at Delfzyl and expounding his theories. Occasionally he would make a pencil note on his blotting pad.
"I quite agree with you, Stirling," he said at length. "A precipitate disclosure would be most injudicious. I'll ring up Thompson.
"You there, Thompson? This is Bennett. Can you spare me half an hour?"
"Impossible."
"You must. Stirling, my special, has just returned from Holland. Very important news."
"Well, out with it."
"Must see you personally."
"Very well then." Thompson glanced irritably at the half-completed "leader" on his desk. "Half an hour. Ring off."
It was more than two hours beforeThe Yachtsman's Journaleditor and Stirling left the offices ofThe Westminster Daily Record. They did not leave alone. Thompson accompanied them, having delegated the completion of his leader to the sub-editor.
Outside the offices the three men entered a taxi and were driven to the Foreign Office. The presentation of Thompson's card was a sure passport to the sanctum of Sir Theophilus Brazenose, the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs.
Sir Theophilus was essentially a strong man. He was active in mind and body, prompt to act, yet displaying a natural caution that on many occasions had stood him in good stead, and had piloted the nation through many an international crisis.
"You are quite right, Thompson," he remarked, after carefully listening to the editor's narrative, and perusing the letter which Stirling had received from Hans Pfeil. "This is a delicate situation. Extreme reticence and secrecy are essential. Of course I quite agree with you that this German seaman's name should not appear in any dispatches forwarded to our ambassador in Berlin. It would result in the severest punishment being inflicted upon him by the German Admiralty for his unquestionable indiscretion, however serviceable it may be to us. By all means refrain from making the news public. I will decide what is to be done as soon as possible. Meanwhile, Mr. Stirling, let me offer you my congratulations on your zeal, tact, and astuteness."
Stirling bowed. In his mind he was wondering whether Sir Theophilus would be so lavish with his praises if he knew that he (Stirling) was a civil servant drawing a paltry salary of a hundred a year.
"You'll be in town for a few days, I hope?" asked Thompson, when the three journalists returned to the offices ofThe Westminster Daily Record. "I hardly know. You see, my leave is up next Saturday."
"Your leave?" asked Thompson brusquely.
"Yes; I'm not on the regular staff ofThe Yachtsman's Journal. I'm in the Inland Revenue Office at Lowestoft."
"Good post?"
"Hardly," Stirling told him.
"Chuck it, my lad. Send in your resignation. You're merely wasting your time there. I'll offer you a post at two hundred and fifty pounds as special correspondent; permanency, mind you, with good prospects; send you back to the Continent till this Heligoland business is finished with."
Two more days passed. The Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs was in constant telegraphic communication with the British Ambassador in Berlin. The most elaborate cipher was used, and precautions taken to prevent leakage of unauthentic information.
The Ambassador was instructed to apply to the German Government for permission to interview John and William Smith, the condemned spies; the authorities at Berlin hedged. They took umbrage at the somewhat unusual request.
Suddenly a journalistic bombshell burst upon the British public. InThe Morning Remembrancer, a "rag" with a comparatively limited circulation, appeared the following, in heavy type:—
"THE IDENTITY OF THE HELIGOLAND SPIES"STARTLING REPORTS"(Specially contributed to this Journal)
"Advice from our own correspondent reveals the startling fact that the identity of the two persons sentenced, under the names of John and William Smith, to five years' detention for espionage has been made known. The victims of an international outrage are Sub-Lieutenant John Hamerton, R.N., and Mr. Oswald Detroit, son of Senator Jonathan Detroit, of Norfolk, Virginia, U.S.A. The story of their supposed tragic fate in the North Sea, being reported to have been lost overboard from the yachtDiomeda, is still fresh in the public memory. Further startling disclosures are imminent. We understand that representations have been made to Germany by the Governments of Great Britain and the United States for the immediate release of the alleged spies."
"Advice from our own correspondent reveals the startling fact that the identity of the two persons sentenced, under the names of John and William Smith, to five years' detention for espionage has been made known. The victims of an international outrage are Sub-Lieutenant John Hamerton, R.N., and Mr. Oswald Detroit, son of Senator Jonathan Detroit, of Norfolk, Virginia, U.S.A. The story of their supposed tragic fate in the North Sea, being reported to have been lost overboard from the yachtDiomeda, is still fresh in the public memory. Further startling disclosures are imminent. We understand that representations have been made to Germany by the Governments of Great Britain and the United States for the immediate release of the alleged spies."
Stirling happened to be at the office ofThe Westminster Daily Recordwhen Thompson's attention was called to the dramatic announcement in the rival publication.
Thompson was not usually a man to give way to outbursts of temper. He was generally brusque, deliberate, and level-headed, but on this occasion his fury for a few moments was uncontrollable.
"Someone has sold us!" he shouted. "That wretched rag has got the laugh at us. If I could only get hold of the fellow that supplied the information—it wasn't you, Stirling?"
"No, sir," replied that individual.
"I believe you. Sorry I asked the question." Thompson was growing calmer by this time. "It's bad enough for our reputation to let a rival collar what is by right our scoop. Makes my blood boil. And, not only that, there's a fresh danger of an international rupture. A little diplomacy would perhaps have settled this spy business. Sir Theophilus Brazenose has the matter in hand, and now the fat is in the fire. Just you 'phone to Bennett and ask him if he knows anything about the matter."
But before Stirling could get connected the editor ofThe Yachtsman's Journalhurriedly entered.
"Seen this, Thompson?" he asked, holding up a folded copy ofThe Morning Remembrancer.
"Of course," replied Thompson dryly. "It does not do to go about with one's eyes shut. All the same, it's a bad business; another case of journalistic integrity letting one down pretty badly."
"What do you propose doing?"
"Calling at the Foreign Office. It's close on ten, and Sir Theophilus will be there at that hour. Come along, and you too, Stirling."
"One moment," said Bennett. "You will be losing precious time. Get a special out. Explain matters, and ask the public to reserve judgment until the Foreign Office has had its say."
Without a word Thompson sat down, took up a pencil, and began to scribble. There was no hesitation; the point of his pencil glided over the paper at a rapid pace, yet each letter was formed as clearly as if it were copperplate.
"There!" he exclaimed, when the leader was finished. "How will that do?"
Bennett took the proffered slip, and read:
"THE HELIGOLAND ESPIONAGE CASE
"With reference to the report appearing in the columns of a contemporary, it will doubtless be interesting to know that the material facts brought to public notice have been known to this journal for some time. Since it is our principle to take our readers into our confidence, we now have no hesitation in stating the actual facts of the case. Our special commissioner returned from the Continent on Monday last, bringing with him the startling news that the spies condemned under the names of John and William Smith weresupposedto be Sub-Lieutenant Hamerton, R.N., and Mr. Oswald Detroit, an American citizen. We venture to suggest that our contemporary has no actual proof that such is the case, and we throw out a challenge to that effect."Immediately upon receiving our commissioner's report, we, together with the editor of an influential yachting journal, waited upon Sir Theophilus Brazenose, Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, and laid the matter before him. Sir Theophilus acted immediately, issuing instructions to the British Ambassador in Berlin. At the same time he urged upon us the necessity of withholding the news from the public until our commissioner's report was either confirmed or contradicted."This we cordially agreed to do, in the belief that it was in the interests of the nation. Unfortunately the news has leaked out through some obscure channel. We therefore ask the public to refrain for the moment from making any demonstrations of antagonism towards a friendly Power, and to leave the issue confidently in the hands of His Majesty's most able Minister for Foreign Affairs."
"With reference to the report appearing in the columns of a contemporary, it will doubtless be interesting to know that the material facts brought to public notice have been known to this journal for some time. Since it is our principle to take our readers into our confidence, we now have no hesitation in stating the actual facts of the case. Our special commissioner returned from the Continent on Monday last, bringing with him the startling news that the spies condemned under the names of John and William Smith weresupposedto be Sub-Lieutenant Hamerton, R.N., and Mr. Oswald Detroit, an American citizen. We venture to suggest that our contemporary has no actual proof that such is the case, and we throw out a challenge to that effect.
"Immediately upon receiving our commissioner's report, we, together with the editor of an influential yachting journal, waited upon Sir Theophilus Brazenose, Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, and laid the matter before him. Sir Theophilus acted immediately, issuing instructions to the British Ambassador in Berlin. At the same time he urged upon us the necessity of withholding the news from the public until our commissioner's report was either confirmed or contradicted.
"This we cordially agreed to do, in the belief that it was in the interests of the nation. Unfortunately the news has leaked out through some obscure channel. We therefore ask the public to refrain for the moment from making any demonstrations of antagonism towards a friendly Power, and to leave the issue confidently in the hands of His Majesty's most able Minister for Foreign Affairs."
"That ought to act as a cold douche to our hot-headed friends on the staff ofThe Morning Remembrancer," observed Bennett. "Now, we'll be off to the Foreign Office."
They found Sir Theophilus considerably perturbed at the ill-judged announcement inThe Morning Remembrancer. He realized the danger of a popular outburst.
"The nation ought to be roused to a pitch of indignation should Mr. Stirling's report prove correct," he observed; "only, there is this radical point: we have no proof. It is evident that some subordinate has been induced to impart confidential information, and this catchpenny journal has jumped to the conclusion that Mr. Stirling's suppositions are absolutely correct. They may be, of course, but on the face of it the action of the German authorities seems preposterous."
"Yet Stirling is emphatic upon the point that Hamerton and his American friend are in Heligoland. There is also definite proof that a German destroyer is dodging about off the Dollart. There was also a report spread about to the effect that the yacht was towed to Bremen for repairs, while all the time she was lying at Delfzyl," observed Thompson.
"There is certainly ground for strong suspicions," admitted Sir Theophilus. "I frankly admit that we have often to act on rumours far less trustworthy than these. However, we can only await a reply from the British Embassy at Berlin. Meanwhile there is popular opinion to be taken into account. I think that——"
A tap on the door, followed by the entry of one of the under-secretaries, caused Sir Theophilus to break off abruptly. The subordinate, observing that his chief was engaged, was about to back out of the door, when Sir Theophilus asked him what he wanted.
"Here is a copy of the special edition ofThe Westminster Daily Record, sir," he announced. "There is a leader on the Heligoland affair. I thought perhaps you would care to see it."
"So you could not refrain, Mr. Thompson?" asked Sir Theophilus, with a suspicion of reproachfulness in his voice.
Thompson did not reply. He merely shrugged his broad shoulders and waited.
The Secretary of State began to read. As he did so his visitors narrowly watched his features. Gradually the frown on his brows relaxed.
"Excellent, Thompson, excellent!" he exclaimed. "You've tackled the business with most praiseworthy skill. We can now only await developments. Rest assured that as soon as I have acommuniquéfrom the Embassy I will send for you again."
But in spite of the efforts of the editor ofThe Westminster Daily Record, the storm raised by the rival journal attained huge dimensions. There were indignation meetings in almost every town and village of the United Kingdom. Letters abusing the Government and accusing the Foreign Office of being weak-kneed and incapable poured in by every post. Shouts of "Down with Germany" were raised in Parliament Street and in Trafalgar Square while intolerant demands were made that the Fleet should proceed to German waters and smash the Teutonic Navy to smithereens.
Nor was the anti-German outburst confined to this side of the "Herring Pond". From New York to San Francisco, and from the Canadian frontier to the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, the usually level-headed citizens of the greatest republic on earth shouted for revenge for the insult offered to one of their sons. It required the greatest diplomacy on the part of those in authority tactfully to curb the impatience of millions until the fateful report from Berlin should arrive.
The British and United States Ambassadors at the German capital lost no time in presenting a polite yet firm demand that they should be permitted to have access to the two condemned spies. To this the Kaiser's ministers promised their consideration.
Meanwhile General Heinrich von Wittelsbach had been hurriedly summoned to Berlin. He fully realized that there was danger ahead. There were two courses open to him: either to confess his error, explain his motives, and throw himself upon the clemency of his Imperial master; or else to take a high hand, stanchly declare that no mistake had been made, and appeal to the Kaiser not to lower the dignity of the Hohenzollerns by submitting to the arrogant demands of the ambassadors of Great Britain and the United States.
He chose the latter course. It would mean either victory or dishonour, whereas by the former course nothing but disgrace would be his portion.
It was at a levee in the imperial palace of Potsdam that the Emperor questioned the governor of his fortress of Heligoland.
Von Wittelsbach's answer came—firmly and without hesitation.
"Sire, I give you my solemn word—the word of a soldier—that neither the English officer, Hamerton, nor the American, Detroit, is in the Island of Heligoland."
Therein he spoke truthfully, for before leaving for Berlin the commandant had ordered the removal of the prisoners to the adjacent island of Sandinsel.
Aftertheir recapture Hamerton and Detroit were shut up in separate cells, the former in the same place as before, while the American was lodged in a disused casemate of the Bucket Horn Battery.
Their captors left nothing undone to guarantee the safety of the prisoners. Hamerton's cell had been recemented over the original floor to a depth of four inches of solid concrete. The bars of his window had been removed and others of considerably greater thickness securely let into the stonework. An observation hole had been cut in the doorway, and the jailers were given instructions to visit the prisoners' cells every two hours, day and night.
Every few hours wireless messages came from Torpedo-boat-destroyer S174. They brought slight consolation to Von Wittelsbach's peace of mind. The long-sought-for yacht still remained alongside the quay at Delfzyl.
Then came the news that an English newspaper had published the information that the spies were Sub-Lieutenant John Hamerton and Oswald Detroit, an American subject.
Von Wittelsbach was for the time being speechless with rage and mortification. He anticipated the order to proceed to Berlin to give an explanation, and ere he set out he gave instructions that the prisoners should be removed to Sandinsel.
It was late at night when a file of marines entered Hamerton's cell. The sergeant in charge roughly ordered him to get up and dress. Although still weak with the effects of his brief spell of liberty, the Sub was rapidly recovering. Two days' rest was sufficient to banish the pain in his neck caused by his involuntary dive into the secret gunpit of the Breit Horn battery. His bruised fingers gave him considerable inconvenience, so that he took a long time over his dressing operations.
"Hasten," ordered the sergeant more than once, but Hamerton paid scant heed. He was resolved not to retard the healing of his hand by unnecessary haste, since he might even yet have an opportunity of eluding his captors.
The fragments of the prepared cotton from the fireproof Zeppelin he still retained in his shoes, but the steel spike which had served him so well had been discovered and taken away by his jailers soon after his recapture.
"Roll your blankets," ordered the non-commissioned officer gruffly. You are to take them with you."
"Evidently I am off on a long journey," thought the Sub at this stage of the proceedings. "What's up now, I wonder? Judging by the elaborate alterations they have made to my quarters I thought they meant to keep me here for a very long time."
"March!" ordered the sergeant, pointing to the door. "No tricks, mind. Our rifles are loaded."
Along the corridor, down the steps, and out into the open the file of marines conducted their prisoner. Then the gates in the outer wall were thrown open, and the Sub found himself in the street.
Turning sharp to the left the party marched along the broad, even road leading towards the Zeppelin station. It did not take them long to arrive at the barbed-wire fence. Hamerton could not help contrasting the time it took with the tedious, cautious crawl over that very ground only a few nights before.
Here the marines were challenged by a sentry. The sergeant advanced, whispered the password, and received permission to proceed.
A large extent of the fence had been levelled, and over the barbed wire were placed the metal coverings Hamerton had noticed during his tour of investigation.
Down the familiar incline the Sub was hurried, till the marines halted within twenty yards of the circular expanse out of which opened the caves for the giant aircraft.
Everything was now in darkness, but by the presence of numbers of soldiers and seamen Hamerton concluded that one of the Zeppelins was about to be hauled out for a nocturnal flight. He wondered vaguely if he were to be an involuntary passenger.
A sliding door opened in the cliff, revealing a long passage lit at regular intervals with electric incandescent lights. A waft of hot, moist air greeted the Sub as he entered.
"By the right—march!" ordered the sergeant.
The tunnel was only wide enough to admit of two men walking abreast. Along the ground ran a narrow-gauge tram line. At every twenty-five yards or thereabouts was a niche, intended as a refuge for foot passengers upon the approach of any rolling stock. For the first hundred yards the tunnel was on the downgrade, then it was horizontal in direction. Overhead, and above the hollow tramp of his escort, the Sub could hear a dull, muffled roar: it was the sea. The tunnel, then, was passing under a portion of North Haven.
Hamerton calculated that he had gone quite a mile through the tunnel ere the upward gradient commenced. One hundred and twenty paces more and the prisoner and his escort were confronted by a steel door. On either side was a deep recess. In one of them stood a portly soldier in the uniform of the fortress artillery. Apparently he had already received his instructions, for, with a familiar nod to the non-commissioned officer in charge of the party, he unlocked and rolled back the sliding door.
For half a minute or so Hamerton could see nothing. The sudden transition from the well-lighted submarine tunnel to the blackness of the night temporarily deprived him of his sense of sight.
He gradually became aware that he was in a stone gallery open to the heavens, but additionally protected by mounds of earth and sand piled well above the level of the enclosing walls. To bind the soil, thorn bushes had been planted. These also served to screen the gallery from observation, while as a protection from shell-fire traverses had been provided.
Just above the summit of one part of the mound Hamerton could see a quaintly-shaped iron tower, the light from which was occulted every three seconds.
Now he knew exactly where he was. The opening of the tunnel was about a hundred yards north-west of the North Beacon of Sandinsel. Where the latest British Admiralty chart showed an expanse of sand covered at high water, his sense of vision told him that a vast extent of artificial ground had risen from the sea.
Another thing struck him in a very forcible manner: on either side of the gallery were hung rectangular steel plates, measuring roughly ten feet by six, and painted in a medley of colours. It was like the so-called "invisible" colouring on the guns and gun-shields of British fortifications, the idea being that at a distance the various hues would blend and form a neutral tint. But in this instance the metal plates were hinged at the top edge. They could be raised by means of levers, and thus form a V-shaped covering to the gallery, presumably as a protection from high-angle fire or from explosives dropped from a hostile airship.
But Hamerton had little leisure to observe these things. The sergeant waited until he had received the password for the Sandinsel portion of the fortress, and then gave the order to march.
The enclosed way seemed interminable. For one thing, it never ran in a straight line for more than twenty yards at one time. Here and there other galleries branched both to left and right—the majority to the right. In places huge armoured bridges crossed the concealed way. On one a travelling crane, electrically propelled, was in the act of crossing.
The whole place seemed alive, judging by the sounds. The Sub could hear the sharp rattle of pneumatic riveters, the peculiar scroop of electric drills, and the thud of ponderous hammers, punctuated by the deafening hiss of compressed air. From a greater distance came the monotonous grinding sounds of a fleet of dredgers at work. There was no mistaking that: Hamerton had seen and heard dredgers at work in the principal naval ports at home. The groaning, rasping noise as the heavily-laden buckets come jerkily up the "ladder", the succession of dull thuds as bucket after bucket throws its contents of mud, sand, and larger stones down the shoot into the hopper, could not be mistaken for anything else.
Hamerton was puzzled. A fleet of dredgers—or even a solitary one—could be heard miles off. Yet during his enforced detention at Heligoland he had never heard the faintest sound that suggested operations of that nature.
"Well, it's either one of two things," he thought. "Either the cliffs of Heligoland possess strange acoustic properties, and deflect the sound entirely, or else these vessels have started work to-night for the first time—at least, since I set foot upon the island."
His musings were cut short by his escort coming to an abrupt halt outside a postern. Here, in front of the neutral-grey-coloured sentry-box—which had recently superseded the parti-coloured diagonal lines for which the German military authorities had a predilection—stood a sentinel with his bayonet at the "ready".
Even when the sergeant of the escort gave the password he was not permitted to pass the gateway until the rest of the corporal's guard had been turned out. Those responsible for the safety of the West Kalbertan Battery had evidently made up their minds to take no chances.
Hamerton saw very little of the interior of the fort that had only recently been constructed on foundations formed of ferro-concrete piles sunk twenty feet through the sand and another thirty feet in the stiff clay that composed the subsoil.
The West Kalbertan Battery had been well placed. Its armament, consisting of six fifteen-inch guns and a number of light quick-firers, commanded the only approach to North Haven from the north. It was one of a chain of six batteries—the others being the East Kalbertan, the Krid Brunnen, the Düne, the Aar de Brunnen, and the Sud Sandinsel—that were supposed to render Sandinsel impregnable. It was this heavy fortifying of the former sandbank that caused the German engineers to mount nearly all their heavy guns on Heligoland on the south-west side.
Then, although the guns of Heligoland commanded the approaches to the Elbe and the Weser, the batteries of Sandinsel were actually the key of the position. Whoever was master of Sandinsel was master of Heligoland.
Hamerton was lodged in the upper story of a building within the fort which was mainly devoted to non-combustible stores. The walls were not so thick as those of his former prison, the floors were planked, while the ceiling was of ordinary plaster. The solitary window was fairly large, glazed, and protected by iron bars that had apparently only been placed in position a few hours before, for the cement was barely dry.
Almost immediately on the departure of the escort a lieutenant, accompanied by two non-commissioned officers, entered the room. The officer was a fair-haired youth of about twenty. His rounded features and blue eyes gave him almost a girlish appearance, which his incipient moustache failed to destroy.
"Ach! Herr Smidt," he began in tolerable English, "I hope you give no trouble. You cannot escape you out of here—you take my word. If no trouble, then perhaps we allow you insignificant privileges. So."
The Sub looked at the speaker. The German officer seemed a decent little chap, he decided.
"I had a rough time of it when I broke out of prison before," he replied. "Perhaps I may not have the opportunity or the inclination to do so, especially as I am promised certain privileges if I behave. But, Herr Lieutenant, let me inform you that I do not answer to the name of Smith."
The lieutenant smiled and tapped his forehead in a significant manner. The act irritated Hamerton almost beyond endurance, but the thought suddenly struck him that perhaps after all the German really thought he had to deal with a prisoner whose brain had become affected.
"No; my name is not Smith," continued the Sub earnestly. "I'm Hamerton, an officer of the British Navy. Don't you believe me?"
The German shook his head.
"I tell you this," he said. "Herr Hamerton sailed from here in his yacht. He was lost at sea; his comrade also. You will do yourself no good if you acclaim yourself as Herr Hamerton. Smidt you are, and I believe you know it. Now be good, and no trouble give."
With that the lieutenant took his departure, and Hamerton was left in the dark and to his own resources. There was nothing further for him to do at present, he reflected; so, unstrapping his blankets, he turned in and was soon fast asleep.
When he awoke the sun was shining brightly, and by its position he knew that his window faced north-east. He had barely completed his toilet when his breakfast was brought in.
"Evidently they mean to treat me better than they did at Heligoland," he reflected, as he looked at the larger cup of coffee, the long roll, a pat of butter, and a couple of fried mackerel. "This seems too good to last."
He set to with a will, for he had a healthy appetite. As he ate he could not help thinking of his conversation with the German lieutenant. The man seemed perfectly open about the matter, as if he really believed the prisoner was under a hallucination.
Then his thoughts turned to Detroit. What had they done with him? Had he been brought to Sandinsel, or was he still in solitary confinement in Heligoland?
His meal ended, Hamerton crossed over to the window. The outlook was not particularly extensive. Immediately below was a kind of courtyard, with triple lines crossing it in several directions. This system enabled heavy wagons to be run over the broad gauge, and lighter trucks to use one of the outer rails and the intermediate one.
The outer space was bounded by the inner part of the fortifications—an almost blank wall pierced by a few doorways and apertures for ventilation.
Hamerton could not see over the wall, but he knew by the presence of a screen of furze and gorse that the face of the fortifications was composed of earth and sand, the best material for minimizing the effects of heavy projectiles.
There his range of vision ended, save for the expanse of blue sky overhead. He might sit at the window for days at a stretch and still see nothing of a confidential nature. Save for an occasional fatigue-party and the passing of a carefully-covered-in train of trucks drawn by electric tractors, the courtyard was deserted. Everything in connection with the actual working of the guns was concealed under the wide mound of earth and sand on the other side of that stone wall.
"A truly cheerful prospect," thought the Sub. "To gaze upon this outlook is a rare intellectual treat. I must make the best of it, I suppose. It is only in old romances that the governor's daughter, or at least the jailer's daughter, takes compassion upon the hapless captive, provides him with a safe disguise, collars the keys from her parent, and releases the object of her affections. This fortress is controlled by men of blood and iron. Sentiment and romance find no place in this modern German Gibraltar. Well, it's no use moping I'll have a look round the room."
It did not take Hamerton long to make a careful examination of the interior of his prison. With a steel tool in his possession he would be able to cut his way out with far less exertion than he had to spend on his previous attempt. The window was but fifteen feet from the ground; with his strength he felt confident that he could bend the long iron bars sufficiently to allow him to squeeze through. Failing that, five minutes of uninterrupted work would be enough for him to knock a hole in the plastered ceiling and make his escape on to the roof. But to what purpose?
He was surrounded by the formidable walls of the West Kalbertan Battery, and, even should he be able to scale the ramparts and evade the sentries, there was not a place of shelter in the whole of Sandinsel where he could hope to remain hidden for even an hour.
"The Monte Cristo wheeze is played out," he mused. "It might be possible to knock down the jailer and put on his clothes, if it were not for the fact that there are always two men waiting outside. Besides, there is the password, which I haven't got. That suggestion is no good. I remember reading of an authentic case of a man in a debtor's jail getting hold of a strip of raw liver and laying it across his throat. The jailer, thinking his prisoner had put an end to himself, ran out of the cell, and in his fright forgot to close and lock the door. The prisoner made good his escape. That was a neat trick; but then that was not within the walls of a modern fortress. It's a case of wait and see, only with more of the waiting and considerably less of the seeing, I fancy."
Yet he did not fall a victim to black despair. He was eminently of a very sanguine disposition, and, recognizing the truth of the saying that "while there's life there's hope", he made up his mind to keep bodily fit, so as to be able to take full advantage of any chance that fortune might throw in his way.
The Sub looked about him for some object to practise with. The chair caught his attention. It was a solid oak one with a rush bottom, just the thing to use as a bar bell and keep his muscles pliant.
His still tender fingers caused him some misgiving, but with very little effort he raised the chair above his head. To his great delight he found that the stiffness of his neck and shoulders was hardly noticeable.
Up and down he swung the chair. For one thing, it killed time; it also kept him in training. He revelled in the exertion.
Suddenly the door opened, and the soldier detailed to act as his jailer entered. Hamerton faced round, his improvised gymnastic apparatus still poised above his head.
With a yell the fellow dropped the earthenware basin on the floor and backed hurriedly out of the door, shouting at the top of his voice that the Englishman had gone mad.
A picket was hastily told off, and, accompanied by the fair-haired lieutenant and a surgeon, the soldiers entered the Sub's room, to find Hamerton calmly sitting on the chair.
"Is this the way you promise to behave?" questioned the lieutenant. "What have you done?"
"I was taking exercise," replied Hamerton.
"Exercise? Mein Gott, your form of exercise very remarkable is, Herr Smidt. Now you be sensible. I give you one more chance. If you behave not, then I report to Herr Major Kohn, and you will be put in far worse place."
The lieutenant and the surgeon walked out of the room, followed by the men; but half an hour later another jailer appeared with a pile of books, "for the use of Herr Smidt, with the compliments of Lieutenant Schaffer."
Thenext day was warm and sunny, with hardly any wind. It would have been an ideal day for cricket, thought Hamerton, as he gazed through the window upon the deserted courtyard. It made confinement doubly hard and irksome.
Continuously the noise of machinery and the busy hum of workmen rose in the sultry air. The smell of petrol and occasionally wafts of hot mineral oil seemed to pervade the atmosphere.
Yet above the din could be heard the dull roar of the sea: the sullen breakers lashing themselves into masses of white foam upon the inner edges of the Hohe Brunnen shoal. It was a sure sign of a storm far out to sea.
The Sub was listless. In vain he tried to fix his mind upon the books the fair-haired lieutenant had lent him. It was all to no purpose. Again and again he threw down the volume and returned to the window to look upon a vista of paving stones and an almost blank wall.
At about three in the afternoon a shadow, travelling at a great pace, fell athwart the courtyard. It could not be a cloud, for the sky was of a deep-blue colour and destitute of any form of condensed vapour.
Presently he saw the reason for the shadow. It was a huge military Zeppelin, larger than any he had yet seen. Owing to the altitude of the airship it was difficult to judge her dimensions, but by a rough-and-ready comparison with the height of the men who formed her crew, Hamerton came to the conclusion that she was at least eight hundred feet in length, forty-five feet in height and about seventy feet in beam. Not only did she have three cars slung underneath, but on the upper surface of the outer aluminium envelope was a broad gangway, terminating at each end in a wedge-shaped deck-house.
At first Hamerton could see only the rails of the gangway, but as the airship stood farther away to the eastward he discovered four guns so mounted as to be able to fire in a vertical direction, besides being able to be trained abeam.
With the naked eye the Sub counted thirty-two men on board. Others were doubtless in the nacelles, so that he estimated that the crew numbered not far short of fifty.
Unlike the British dirigible, the craft was painted a dull grey on her under body and an olive green above the line of her greatest perimeter. The only splash of bright colour about her was the black cross ensign of Germany that flew from a short staff at the after end of the upper platform.
As the Zeppelin passed over the West Kalbertan Battery her speed was at least thirty miles an hour; but even as the Sub watched she lurched forward and settled down to a pace of nearly thrice her former rate.
In a very few moments she was lost to sight, although flying at an altitude of nearly a thousand feet, travelling in the direction of the North Sea entrance to the Kiel Canal.
"Unwieldy brute!" ejaculated the Sub. "I wonder what headway she would make in a gale of wind? It's a fine day, so I suppose they are taking their pet gasbag for an airing. It strikes me pretty forcibly that they'll have to be pretty sharp about it, for that ground swell is a certain sign of a gale."
Twenty minutes later an air squadron consisting of seven seaplanes flew overhead. The Sub regarded them with curiosity. He had heard that the German authorities, after repeated experiments, had decided to build a number of improved seaplanes to be stationed on the Frisian coast, and now for the first time he saw them in actual flight.
They were flying low—at less than a hundred and fifty feet above the ground; but they flew none the less steadily. The floats were really three boats, the centre one big, about twenty feet in length, and decked in with the exception of two small wells. Immediately in front of the foremost one was a one-pounder automatic gun protected by a V-shaped shield. Abaft the after cockpit was a machine gun of the Maxim type.
On either side of the main float was a subsidiary one, serving simply as outriggers to give lateral stability to the seaplane when resting on the surface of the sea.
Between the floats, and suspended from rods running in a fore-and-aft direction, were a dozen cylindro-conical objects that the Sub recognized as bombs for dropping upon hostile ships and fortifications.
It was clearly evident that all the power of offence was distributed on or between the floats, leaving the rest of the seaplane for elevating, steering, and propulsion purposes. The main planes were comparatively short in distance from tip to tip, but broad in proportion. The fabric was apparently of light, non-flexible metal, curved with the convex side uppermost, while both planes were set at an angle of about sixty degrees to the centre line. There were two propellers, one set slightly below the planes, the shaft being driven by means of a chain connected with the engine. The second propeller, worked on a shaft within and projecting beyond the main shaft, was so arranged that its rotation was in an opposite direction to that of the after one. By this means the after propeller "gripped" the air thrown back by the foremost one, and a considerable increase in speed was claimed to have been obtained.
Extending right aft for a distance of ten feet beyond the vertical rudder was a long hollow pole made of aluminium. Surrounding it was a canvas covering, secured at the end nearest the main planes by a metal band. This device was supposed to be for the purpose of saving life should the seaplane become disabled in mid-air and be unable to volplane down to the surface of the sea. By drawing the metal band forward the canvas would be distended by the wind and thus form a huge parachute. Provided the crew were not thrown clear of the falling craft they would be able to descend with it at very little risk.
An experiment had been tried in Kuriche Haff only a few days previously. A seaplane was hoisted to a height of two thousand feet by a dirigible. The parachute safety band was released, and the craft dropped. It fell erratically for nearly a hundred yards before the parachute became fully distended; then, tilting nose downwards, it continued descending in a series of spirals, its rate being greatly retarded. Striking the surface of the water the seaplane dived till half the length of her floats and a part of her main planes were submerged. Then, like a cork, she leapt clear of the surface and settled naturally on her floats.
Hamerton, of course, was ignorant of this highly-confidential test, but the unusual sight of a pole projecting far in the wake of the seaplanes attracted his attention. At first he came to the conclusion that it was a form of aerial torpedo tube, till it suddenly occurred to him that it might be a form of arresting the attraction of gravity in the event of an accidental downward plunge.
Almost as soon as the seaplanes passed out of sight Lieutenant Schaffer entered the room, accompanied by the two men who acted as jailers.
"You haf seen part of our Zherman air fleet?" he enquired affably.
"Yes," replied Hamerton; then, on the spur of the moment, he added: "I see you have adopted the parachute principle in the event of an accident?"
"Mein Gott!" ejaculated the astonished lieutenant; "how you know that?"
"Saw it with my own eyes," replied the Sub, delighted at the successful guess he had made. "I thought your people would collar the idea from us sooner or later."
"Collar? What do you mean?" asked Schaffer, completely mystified. "Collar? That something is around the neck—dog collar, horse collar, stylish collar, hein?"
"Well, crib, then."
"Crib? Ach, I haf it! Crib something is to do with children. You say our Zherman air fleet it is in infancy, eh? You are all wrong, as you will see."
"I said nothing of the sort," said Hamerton, smiling. "I said you collared, cribbed our ideas—sneaked them."
"I understand not still," expostulated the German lieutenant. "I haf not learned the word 'sneak' in my vocabulary."
"Then suppose I explain that you borrowed the idea of a parachute from us?"
Schaffer literally gasped.
"You then have a like device in England? Then it is by spies such as you, Herr Smidt, that it was made known."
Whatever had been his object in entering Hamerton's cell the Sub never found out, for the lieutenant lost no time in informing his superior officer that these English had already got to learn how to prevent disasters to aircraft heavier than air.
As Hamerton had foreseen, the gale began to make itself felt. Just before sunset a strong breeze from the east sprang up, and in less than twenty minutes the Sub could see columns of spray dashing high above the seawall between the East Kalbertan Battery and the Düne Fort.
As darkness set in the wind increased in violence. Clouds of sand and salt spray were flung against the window of the Sub's room, the furious blasts howled over the chimney pots and through the overhead telegraph wires.
Then the searchlights were switched on. The giant beams swung slowly to and fro, till at one moment the upper part of the wall opposite Hamerton's window was as brilliant as polished silver, at another as black as Erebus.
Still no rain fell. Up to the present it was a gale of wind, one that would blow itself out in a comparatively short space of time.
Hamerton had no thought of going to bed. He stuck to his post at the window, fully expecting to see the giant airship come battling with the gale in an endeavour to find shelter in the cavernous sheds on the island of Heligoland.
Suddenly, above the howling of the elements, a bugle rang out. From the barrack quarters within the battery issued scores of men dressed in brown-canvas working suits. Without waiting to form up they ran in the direction of the main gateway. Clearly something of the nature of an accident had occurred to warrant this hasty nocturnal parade.
Then Hamerton saw the reason. Picked out by several searchlights the giant Zeppelin appeared. She was battling bravely against the wind, but slowly and surely was being driven astern. She was flying low. Her commander evidently decided that it was too hazardous to attempt to return to her proper berth, and was endeavouring to descend under the lee of the East Kalbertan Battery, where a shallow depression in the wake of the low walls offered the only possible though doubtful shelter. With the thought of previous disasters fresh in their minds the Germans dreaded the possibility of being blown far out to sea. They would not even take the risk of sheltering to leeward of the lofty Heligoland; they preferred to attempt to secure the unwieldy airship on Sandinsel.
Lower and lower sank the Zeppelin, till her nacelles were hidden from Hamerton's eyes by the intervening wall. Her way seemed momentarily checked as ropes were thrown to the hundreds of waiting soldiers. As fast as they could move, two-thirds of her crew slid down to earth, only the officers and twelve men remaining until the Zeppelin should be properly secured.
"I wish the blessed thing would smash up," thought the Sub. "Not that I want any lives to be lost, but because the Germans crow over their wonderful airships and construct elaborate castles in the air for the humiliation of England."
Even as these thoughts flashed through his mind the airship swung round broadside to the wind. In an instant swarms of men were being lifted off the ground or being dragged over it like dead flies on a resinous string. Gamely they struggled to keep the errant aircraft under control, but in vain.
Rapidly the Zeppelin drifted towards the West Kalbertan Battery, till her huge envelope loomed high above the fortifications. With a dull thud the nacelles struck the earthworks. The frail aluminium gave before the shock, and the remainder of her crew, with one exception, were precipitated upon the sand.
Relieved of their weight, the Zeppelin bounded upwards for a distance of about ten feet, just clearing the formidable wire entanglements. Then a downward eddy seemed to strike her, and she dropped till the fragments of her cars touched the pavement of the courtyard. The nearmost portion of her aluminium envelope was now within thirty yards of Hamerton's window. He realized that nothing short of a miracle could prevent the unmanageable craft from buckling itself against the angle of the storehouse in which his cell was situated.
With praiseworthy devotion the soldiers still hung on to the guide ropes till the foremost of them were hauled to within a few feet of the barbed-wire fence. Thrown into a blaze of silvery light by the searchlights, the entanglements became strikingly apparent to the luckless soldiers. It was more than flesh and blood could stand—being slowly dragged over an expanse of sharp iron barbs. In a moment the guide ropes from the after-end of the Zeppelin were abandoned.
The next thing Hamerton saw was a shower of tiles, bricks, laths, and plaster falling about him, to the accompaniment of a succession of most appalling crashes.
Instinctively he leapt backwards as a twisted and distorted mass of metal was forced through the aperture. Between the rents in the masonry the slanting beams of half a dozen searchlights played upon the dust-laden atmosphere. The grinding of the enormous body of the Zeppelin, added to the roar of the wind and the shouts of dismay of the baffled soldiers, formed a fitting accompaniment to the scene of desolation.
A train of thoughts flashed across the Sub's mind. He realized that he was in imminent peril of being crushed like a rat in a trap beneath the falling brickwork, for one side of the room was already showing signs of sharing the fate of the part facing the original direction of the impact. A sudden resolution seized him. Better by far to make a rush for the tangle of aluminium rods and sheeting and trust to be lifted clear of the debris than to remain in danger of the collapsing walls.
With a quick, lever-like wrench the remains of the nacelles described a complete semicircle. The Zeppelin, free for'ard, was swinging round on her heel, like a ship that has struck stern foremost upon a submerged rock. Then, with a comparatively slow yet determined movement, the wreckage began to assume an upward motion.
Hardly realizing what he was doing, Hamerton sprang over a heap of bricks and dried mortar, and grasped one of the vertical rods that still connected the damaged car with the outer envelope of the gas bag. Half-blinded with dust, his grotesque clothing rent almost from his back, he found himself being raised from the ruin of his cell. He felt the cold breeze of the open air upon his heated forehead.
Then, hardly knowing whether he was on or above the ground, he flung his legs round the twisted rod to which he had clung so desperately with his hands. Even as he did so the side wall of his cell collapsed. Another few seconds and he would have been crushed to death beneath the debris.
Released from the restraining wall, and no longer held in semi-captivity by the swarm of men, who had been compelled to relinquish their hold upon the guide ropes, the damaged Zeppelin bounded to a height of nearly a hundred feet, the while being urged onward at a tremendous pace towards the rocky cliffs of Heligoland.
The Sub was not one to lose his nerve even in a tight corner. His first step was to gain a place of greater security than that afforded by a trailing rod that ended in space less than three feet beneath him. Hand over hand he climbed, till he reached a metallic beam that at a very recent period formed one of the fore-and-aft girders of the lower gangway.
Here he sat in comparative safety. He could rest until he regained his breath ere he made another bid for greater safety.
The wind no longer howled through the chaos of broken and twisted rods. Borne along at almost the same velocity as that of the gale, the Zeppelin was apparently floating in the still air, although in reality her speed over the ground was now not much less than sixty miles an hour. Assailed on all sides by the brilliant searchlights, the derelict aircraft was heading straight for the cliffs at Bucket Horn. Unless she lifted herself sufficiently to clear the one hundred and twenty-eight feet of cliff she would inevitably be dashed to pieces against the sandstone bluff.
Shading his eyes from the blinding glare, Hamerton could see the precipitous wall of rock momentarily growing larger and larger. Thirty feet were wanting to clear the edge of the cliff. It seemed as if nothing could save the uncontrollable Zeppelin.
Hamerton set his jaw tightly. He fully realized the danger. He was mentally picturing the impending disaster, the bulging sides of the envelope charging the cliff and being crushed like an empty eggshell against the inflexible wall of sandstone. The remains of the nacelles would be swung violently inwards, the concussion would result in his being dislodged from his position and being flung heavily upon the rocky, breaker-swept ledges at the base of the island.
Yet the expected did not happen. An upward eddy, caused by the wind being deflected by the perpendicular cliff, tossed the Zeppelin in its boisterous grip.
Her stern portion, being lighter than the bows, since most of her weight had already been torn away from that end, swung clear of the cliff. Hamerton could see the roof of a searchlight shed slip past barely twenty feet beneath him. Then came a sudden jerk that wellnigh dislodged the Sub from his precarious position. Only his tenacious grip saved him.
The whole of the enormous bulk of the Zeppelin seemed to pause momentarily, then with a sickening, heaving motion the aircraft shot upwards to an additional height of five hundred feet. In swinging past the brink of the chasm the destruction of the machinery compartment of the midship nacelle was completed, and her motors, weighing little short of a ton and a half, were precipitated to the ground, rolling into a concealed gunpit and greatly damaging the breech mechanism of the weapon.
Just then a loud roar came from one of the forts, the powerful Spitz Horn Battery. The Germans, despairing at the loss of the pride of their aerial fleet, and fearful lest she should be borne by the gale to the shores of the hated England, had decided upon the expedient of riddling her with heavy shells. In the hope that their vaunted hole-closing fabric would in this instance prove unequal to the conditions laid upon it, the gunners used the secondary armament of twenty-six-centimetres weapons.
With an unearthly shriek the first projectile, weighing nearly three hundred pounds, passed harmlessly above the envelope of the errant Zeppelin, bursting with a lurid red flash at a distance of five hundred yards behind her. Two more shells followed, almost simultaneously. These fell far beneath the rapidly-moving target. Although the aim in a vertical plane was good, the artillery-men were hopelessly at a loss as regards elevation. The Zeppelin, now only faintly visible in the rays of the distant searchlights, was out of range and well on her way across the stormy North Sea.
Itwould ill describe the state of mind of the deputy commandant of the fortress of Heligoland to say that he was thunderstruck at the latest disaster that had overtaken one of the German air fleet. It was he who had given the order for the gunners to bring down the derelict. Their failure to do so only increased his consternation. He was almost in a state of stupefaction. At one moment he raved at the indiscretion of the commander of the Zeppelin in attempting to come to earth in a gale of wind; at another he sat with his hands clasped tightly across his eyes, as if trying to shut out the inglorious sight of the hitherto peerless airship drifting helplessly at the mercy of the elements.
Then came the disconcerting news that one of the spies had escaped. The ruins of his cell had been hastily examined without any trace being found of his body, and it was owing solely to the statement of one of the men, who said he believed he saw the Englishman clinging to the wreckage, that the authorities came to the hasty, but none the less accurate, decision that such indeed was the case. This stirred the second commandant to action. He ordered the whole of the second flotilla of torpedo-boat destroyers to proceed at once to sea, in the hope that they might overhaul the errant Zeppelin should the gale moderate.
In less than ten minutes from the time of receiving the order the first of the destroyers left South Haven, followed with commendable celerity by her consorts. Regardless of the high-crested seas they steamed under forced draught. Dense clouds of black smoke, tinged with dull-red flame, belched from their squat funnels, which speedily became white with salt. Swept fore and aft, even at the risk of carrying away most of the deck gear the frail vessels rushed through the blackness of the night, spreading fanwise between north-west and south-west in order to cover the possible limits of the object of the search.
Meanwhile a wireless message in code was dispatched to the German Admiralty. It was useless to conceal the magnitude of the disaster, but one point was omitted. No reference was made to the supposed presence of the English spy upon the derelict. That information was sent only to General Heinrich von Wittelsbach, who was on the point of returning to resume his command.
The fates seemed to be working against Von Wittelsbach. Almost on the top of his carefully-worded denial to his emperor came the disquieting report that Hamerton was on board the fugitive Zeppelin. The commandant's sole hope lay in the destroyers which had been dispatched in search of the truant. Should they fail, it was more than likely that the airship would either be driven across to Great Britain or else fall into the sea. Her huge bulk could hardly pass unnoticed by the scores of British trawlers at work on the Dogger, since from the direction of the wind the Zeppelin would be blown directly over that great fishing ground. In either case Hamerton stood a fighting chance of being saved, and then the truth would out.
Early on the following morning Von Wittelsbach embarked on a light cruiser that had orders to await him at Cuxhaven. Twenty minutes later the vessel anchored in South Haven. The destroyers were even now returning from their fruitless search; their wireless messages told the same tale with monotonous and depressing regularity; and to add to the irony of the situation the short summer's gale had blown itself out, and the sun shone brilliantly from a cloudless sky. The sea had subsided, and only a long oily swell served to remind the fisher folk of the Frisians and the shores of Schleswig-Holstein of the storm that had wrought havoc on their coasts.
For the rest of the day General von Wittelsbach remained shut up in the Government House, waiting and waiting, hoping against hope that the threatened exposure of his duplicity might yet pass away.
Throughout the short summer's night Hamerton clung to his frail support. He gloried in his position. Nothing seemed to trouble him. Here he was floating in hundreds of feet in the air, and being rapidly borne westward by the partially crippled Zeppelin.
The aircraft, being entirely out of control, was nothing more than a non-dirigible balloon. For the most part she drifted broadside on to the wind, occasionally describing a pendulum-like motion in a horizontal plane. Otherwise she was fairly steady, with hardly any tendency to dip her bow or stern. The air was warm, the threatened rain had not fallen, the airship seemed far above the surface of the sea, and showed no inclination of descending. By occasional bearings from certain well-known stars, the Sub derived the consolation that the westward drift was still maintained.
Day began to break: a grey light in the north-east betokened the approaching dawn and the coming of fine weather. This latter circumstance was not pleasing to the self-constituted crew of the airship. He realized that with the falling of the wind the progress of the Zeppelin would naturally be retarded. His wish was to place as many miles betwixt himself and his prison isle as he could in the shortest possible time. He had counted upon that; but if hung up in the middle of the North Sea the airship stood a chance of recapture by German torpedo craft, or destruction by the guns of the Teutonic seaplanes, which he fully expected would be sent for that purpose.
The exhilaration of the pure air raised his already buoyant spirits. He felt as if he could dance a hornpipe even on the narrow girder on which he sat. Instead, he began to whistle, till the effort reminded him very forcibly of the pangs of hunger.
It was now light enough to see about him. He found himself just in front of the ruins of the after nacelle, that looked almost exactly like a railway carriage with the floor knocked out. Abaft were the remains of two of the propellers, with only one blade left intact. The alley way communicating with the midship and foremost cars was originally outside the outer aluminium envelope. This had been torn away for a length of nearly a hundred feet, only the longitudinal girders and a few vertical rods remaining.
Could the Sub successfully make his way over that intervening space he would be able to find ample floor space in and on each side of the central nacelle, that had practically escaped damage.
It would be a risky performance, but Hamerton decided to hazard it. It was like "laying along" the foreyard of a square-rigged ship, only without the footropes. Instead, there was the grip afforded by the still-holding aluminium stays, which, although more than an arm's-length apart, could be made good use of, provided the climber did not lose his balance when halfway between.
Standing upright upon the narrow metal track Hamerton mentally measured the distance to the nearmost upright rod. It was roughly about eight feet. In two rapid but deliberate strides he gained the first halting place of his short but hazardous journey. Two more stages gave him increased confidence, and the next thirty feet he negotiated with comparative ease, in spite of the gentle undulating motion of the aircraft.
Then came an absence of any support for his hands for a space of thrice the distance between those he had just passed. Beyond that the rest of the way would be easy, for several partially-rent plates, that at one time formed partitions of the envelope, still remained fixed to the girder.
"Neck or nothing," muttered the Sub. "Here goes!"
Three steps did he take, when his foot slipped. Vainly he tried to regain his balance; the sag of the badly-supported girder, combined with the swaying of the airship, prevented him from so doing, and with outstretched arm he fell sideways off the slender framework.
His left hand caught in the girder, the flat edge rasping the skin almost to the bone. His fingers gripped as only those of a man used to working aloft could do: once again his training on the oldBritanniastood him in good stead.
Like a flash he threw his right arm over the girder. There he hung, dangling in mid-air, with the imminent prospect of dropping eight hundred feet or so, to be smashed to a pulp as his body struck with fearful velocity the surface of the North Sea.
Not for a moment did he lose his head when once he felt his hands gripping the T-shaped girder. He knew that it would only be a waste of energy to attempt to clamber back; his one and only chance was to make his way forward to a place where the bent and jagged aluminium sheathing would afford precarious foothold to enable him to gain the still-intact platform in the wake of the midship nacelle.
With a slight effort Hamerton raised his legs sufficiently to enable his heels to rest on the upper face of the girder. His weight was thus more evenly distributed, and his arms were no longer taxed to their fullest strength. He was now clinging with hands and feet to the under side of the aluminium beam, with his nose only a couple of inches from the lowermost flange of the T-section.
Slowly he edged towards the place whence he hoped to scramble into safety. Inch by inch, foot by foot—the distance seemed interminable. Not for an instant did he look down. He knew only too well the fatal consequences that that indiscretion would entail.
At length his feet touched the metal plate. It was still riveted by the upper edge of the girder, hanging downwards at an angle of about thirty degrees and curling to almost a complete circle near its lower edge.
"Hope to goodness it will hold," thought the Sub. "If it gives, I'm done."
Cautiously he swung his feet from off the beam. All his weight now fell upon his fingers. Then his shoe came in contact with the curved part of the plate. The aluminium sheet gave slightly, but Hamerton found, to his unbounded relief, that it offered sufficient resistance to the pressure to permit him to relax his grip with his right hand.
He lost no time, however, in shifting his grasp so that both hands were on the same side of the girder. Now he was able to half-turn, so that both feet rested on the curl of the plate.
Summoning his remaining energies, Hamerton sprang. His foothold was sufficiently good for the purpose, although the twisted plate gave slightly under the pressure. The next instant he was lying on the deck with his legs dangling over the edge.
Now that the immediate danger was over, he felt dizzy and sick. For a moment or so a white mist swam before his eyes. Had the airship lurched to port he might have fled into space without being conscious of making an effort to save himself.
After a while the Sub roused himself and took stock of his surroundings. The platform was barely six feet in width and twenty in length. On the starboard side was a handrail, which had escaped the fate that had overtaken the greater part of the suspended portions of the aircraft. Aft, the platform broke away suddenly, leaving only the girder which had caused Hamerton such a hazardous journey. The other end terminated at the bulkhead of the midship nacelle, access to which was gained by a narrow sliding door.
Even as he looked a hand grasped the edge of the sliding panel, apparently with the intention of drawing it open. In a moment Hamerton was on his feet. His dizziness was past, the new phase of danger that threatened him aroused all his energies. It was quite possible that several of the crew might have remained on board; if so, there were complications ahead.
In vain Hamerton sought for a weapon with which to defend himself. There was nothing: all the twisted aluminium bars within reach were firmly secured to the platform. He must make the best use of his fists.
It required considerable effort to double his powerful hands, owing to the strain of hanging on to the girder, combined with the lacerated condition of his palms. But having arrived thus far in his bid for freedom, Hamerton was not the man to knuckle under tamely; he meant to make a hard fight for liberty.
The sliding panel was giving the unknown a lot of trouble. Owing to the violent shocks that the airship had experienced, every part of the framework had been strained, and in this instance the door was tightly jammed.
Another hand appeared in sight. It was not that of a second man, but only the left hand of the still unseen member of the crew. For fully half a minute the fellow wrenched at the non-yielding door, then, giving up his task as a bad job, he relaxed his hold.
A dull thud, followed by a deep groan, told the Sub that the danger had been exaggerated. Without hesitation he made his way to the door, and with a heave of his brawny shoulders sent the panel clattering into the recess intended for it.
Lying at full length on the floor of the car was a man dressed in the uniform of a lieutenant of the German Navy. His forehead was caked with dried blood, his clothes were rent till there was little to choose between the rags which covered Hamerton's frame and those of the injured man.
"It is quite evident that this poor fellow is the only member of the crew left on board," reasoned the Sub, "unless, of course, there are some lying stunned in the wreck of the fore nacelle. Otherwise they would have come to his assistance long before this."
He bent over the wounded officer. The lieutenant was quite unconscious. His chief injury, Hamerton found by a hasty examination, consisted of a bruise over the right temple. In the centre of the forehead was a deep, clear cut that could be treated lightly, although the appearance of the congealed blood made the wound look far more dangerous than it actually was.