"I wonder where I can find some water?" thought Hamerton. "I'll investigate."
The midship car was principally devoted to officers' cabins, there being two on the port side of the through gangway and one to starboard. The contents of all three had been completely wrecked by the concussion. Water bottles and jugs lay smashed to fragments upon the floor. In the midst of the debris he noticed a razor; this he carefully set aside, vowing to remove the straggling beard that was beginning to make itself particularly aggressive at the first opportunity.
For'ard of the nacelle, and adjoining the place formerly occupied by the motors, were two large tanks, one on either side of the gangway. One had been "started", a large rent showing in the sheet metal. The other was intact, and full of water.
"Salt!" ejaculated Hamerton disgustedly. "Water ballast, of course. It may come in handy though."
Continuing his forward pilgrimage the Sub reached the wreckage of the foremost car. Here the twelve-pounder gun had fallen through the floor, leaving jagged portions of the floor plates sufficiently wide to allow the Sub to gain the interior. In one corner of a subdivision of the compartment stood a metal freshwater tank, and close to it, in a rack, a number of cups. Without delay the Sub, carefully carrying a small quantity of water, made his way back to where the wounded officer lay.
The German was still insensible. Drawing a handkerchief from the unconscious man's pocket Hamerton dipped it in the water and proceeded to wash the cut in his forehead. As he did so he recognized that fate had thrown an old acquaintance across his path, for the officer was Lieutenant Schwalbe, the same who had effected Hamerton's arrest on board theDiomeda.
Having attended to the injured man as well as the limited means at his disposal would admit, the Sub decided that it was time he made an examination of the aircraft that had under remarkable circumstances come under his command.
Looking down over the rail he found that the Zeppelin was maintaining a height of about a thousand feet. Unknown to him the vessel had dropped to less than a fifth of that distance just before dawn, but with the rise of temperature following sunrise she had regained her former altitude.
The sea was still foam-flecked, and, although it was impossible to form an accurate description of the state of the waves from that height, Hamerton had reason to suppose that the gale had not yet blown itself out.
Allowing the average rate of the derelict to be forty-five miles an hour, he came to the conclusion that she was now—unless the direction had changed—within a hundred and fifty miles of the Northumberland or Berwickshire coast.
As far as the eye could see the surface of the water was unbroken by any vessel large or small. The North Sea seemed entirely deserted.
The pangs of hunger, that had been temporarily banished while the Sub was attending to the injured Schwalbe, now reasserted themselves, and after a short search Hamerton discovered the officers' pantry, practically intact. After the hard fare he had been accustomed to during his enforced detention at Heligoland the meal that followed seemed the best he had ever had in his life, his appetite whetted by the bracing air and the joyous satisfaction that he had regained his freedom.
A shave and a wash still further heightened his satisfaction, and, the deficiencies of his wardrobe demanding attention, he had no scruples in throwing overboard his ragged parti-coloured uniform of captivity and donning a greatcoat and trousers of one of the officers of the airship.
"By Jove! I wonder how the crew got to the platform on top of the envelope?" he exclaimed. "I really must see what the 'Mount Misery' of a Zeppelin is like."
His first effort in that direction was to make a thorough examination of the sub-compartments of the midship car, but no signs of a means of gaining the elevated deck were forthcoming. Nor would he again risk the hazardous way along the single girder to the remains of the after nacelle.
Again he went for'ard. Almost immediately within the bow nacelle, and to the right of the sliding door, was a vertical flight of steps formed by means of steel bars set across an angle of the compartment.
"These must lead somewhere," he argued, "although they don't appear to. So here goes!"
From the third step he was able to touch the aluminium plating that formed the ceiling of the nacelle. His hand came in contact with a metal knob that had in the gloom hitherto escaped his notice.
Backwards and forwards he strove to move this object. It seemed immovable. He tugged, pushed, twisted it all to no purpose.
"Like everything else on board this blessed packet the thing's jammed," he growled. "I'll get a cold chisel from the armourer's chest and cut a hole through the plate. Great Christopher Columbus! what's that?"
A bell was ringing violently in some part of the aircraft. Perhaps, after all, there were more of the crew still at their posts on the upper platform?
He was about to descend, when, his eyes getting more accustomed to the gloom, he caught sight of a bolt placed at less than a foot from the knob that had so completely baffled his efforts.
He drew back the bolt. The flap above his head immediately swung back on a pivot, disclosing a long tunnel-like shaft. Simultaneously the bell ceased to ring.
"What a silly ass I am!" declared Hamerton. "I see the game. By touching that knob a bell rings for the purpose of warning those on deck that someone is ascending. That is quite feasible, since two persons could not pass each other in this exaggerated tin-whistle pipe."
Without hesitation he commenced to climb. The interior of the tube was of polished aluminium and reflected shafts of light that entered from the open top. He could see the blue sky overhead.
It was a long climb, for the vertical passage was nearly fifty feet in height. It reminded the Sub of the interior of a battleship's mast. A faint scent of hydrogen assailed his nostrils. Whether it was an accidental leakage sufficiently serious to affect the buoyancy of the airship or merely the natural wastage from the ballonettes the Sub knew not.
Upon gaining the upper platform Hamerton's first act was to inspect the fore-and-aft shelters. Both were deserted. They were also practically intact. The standard compass for'ard was in working order. More by force of habit than anything else he glanced at the card. The Zeppelin's bows were pointing due east—exactly the opposite direction to the way he wanted.
This was a most disconcerting discovery. To be ignominiously borne back into German territory was humiliating. Rather than let that happen he would attack the ballonettes, liberate the hydrogen, and allow the aircraft to settle, half-water-logged, on the North Sea.
Hamerton glanced at his watch and found it was a quarter to five. That puzzled him, since by the position of the sun it must be nearer eight o'clock. A second look showed him that his watch had stopped. He remembered that, contrary to custom, he had omitted to wind it.
Presently a thought struck him. Walking to the end of a transverse bridge he looked downward. A long way below and far from the perpendicular a large shadow was cast upon the sea. It was the shadow of the airship across the sun's rays. For a full minute he watched it intently, then he gave a sigh of relief.
In his mild panic in noting the direction of the Zeppelin's bows he had forgotten that, drifting at the mercy of the winds, she was liable to swing horizontally in any direction. By observing the direction of the path of the shadow his mind was set at rest. The airship was drifting nearly sou'-sou'-west.
"That's much better, thanks be!" he ejaculated fervently. "If this continues I shall land, not in the north, but somewhere in Norfolk or Suffolk. Perhaps within sight of Lowestoft. But I'll swear the blessed ship is lower than she was. I wonder where I can find the altitude gauge? And the wind is falling too. That shadow shows we are travelling at a bare twenty knots."
Just then the Sub gave a hasty look round over the vast circle of sea. Something caught his eye. He looked steadily for a few seconds to make sure there was no mistake.
Less than five miles off was a large torpedo-boat destroyer, pelting along at top speed. Her commander had spotted the Zeppelin, of that there could be no doubt. Was the oncoming craft one of the German destroyers, dispatched to recapture or destroy the errant airship?
"It'sa pure piece of bluff—that's my opinion," declared Thompson. "The most remarkable thing about the whole business is the quiet way in which the British and United States Governments have accepted the German authorities' explanation."
Thompson, Bennett, and young Stirling were seated in the former's sanctum atThe Westminster Daily Record'soffices, just off Whitehall.
"Well, what else could they do under the circumstances?" asked Bennett. "They couldn't very well tell His Imperial Majesty that he was telling a deliberate untruth; now, could they?"
"Hardly. No, it's the old story—international diplomacy, which, reduced to its simplest form, means which party can tell the biggest lie without being found out."
"But we've proof," objected Bennett. "Why on earth wasn't the German Admiralty asked to produce the alleged spies in spite of their assurances?"
Thompson shrugged his shoulders.
"What actual proof have we?" he asked. "Only a letter from a German sailor stating that a friend of his saw Hamerton and Detroit on the island of Heligoland on the same day as they were supposed to be washed overboard. The fellow might have made a mistake, all in good faith, or he might be playing the fool with Stirling."
"But there's the instance of the German destroyer persistently cruising off the Dollart. That tallies with Pfeil's statement that theDiomedawas to be taken possession of and brought back to Heligoland," persisted the editor ofThe Yachtsman's Journal.
"I quite agree with you. There seems something strange about the whole matter," replied Thompson. "For the moment I am a self-constituted mouthpiece for our friends the enemy. Again, the German sailor might be mistaken; while, since a part of the Dollart is German waters, one of the torpedo-boat destroyers is quite at liberty to cruise about there, I take it."
"Quite so," agreed Bennett affably. He was about to play his trump card. He paused while he lit a cigarette, and then continued: "I've had the tip, my dear Thompson, that the Admiralty have given orders for the torpedo-boat destroyerBoxerto proceed from Sheerness to Delfzyl tomorrow morning, to tow theDiomedaback to Lowestoft. What do you make of that, eh?"
"Stirling," said Thompson quietly, "there's a job for you. I believe you can be regarded as one of the yacht's crew? Good! I'll 'phone to Sir Theophilus and ask him to get you a passage on theBoxer."
Before two that afternoon the head of the Foreign Office obtained the necessary permit from the Admiralty, and at six that evening Gordon Stirling presented himself on board the torpedo-boat destroyerBoxer, lying alongside Sheerness Dockyard. Three hours later the permission of the Dutch Government for the British warship to enter Delfzyl was obtained, and at six the following morning she slipped quietly past the Garrison Fort en route for Holland.
"Do you anticipate any trouble with the German destroyer?" asked Stirling, in the course of conversation with the lieutenant-commander of theBoxer.
"No, worse luck!" replied Lieutenant Mallet. "I wish the blighters would fight. Of course this is not for publication, but I can assure you that there's hardly an officer or man in the British Navy who is not as keen as mustard on the question of smashing the Teutons. It's got to come, mark my words, and the longer the delay the harder the job will be."
"And what is your private opinion about Hamerton?"
"My private opinion is this," said the lieutenant-commander slowly: "Hamerton is as much alive as I am. For some reason, inexplicable as far as we are concerned, the Germans are concealing his identity and that of his friend Detroit. That's the opinion of almost every thinking man, woman, and child in the British Empire and in the United States. And yet, what is the result of the joint Ambassadors' Note? Dust in their eyes. And the worst part about the whole business is that the affairs of state are in the hands of a few weak-kneed, peace-at-any-price individuals, who believe that the German is our best friend. I suppose I've said more than I ought; but, hang it! a fellow cannot always keep his feelings bottled up. You're going back with the yacht, I presume?" he added.
"Yes; I am expecting to get another 'scoop'—some startling news—but it looks like a fizzle out."
"If I could have my way I would put you ashore at Harlingen. You could easily get to Delfzyl by train. Then you could assist Smith in working the yacht out to sea, and we would be cruising about ready to drop on S174 should she try any of her little tricks. Then you might have a 'scoop'. But orders are orders, and one-eyed Nelsons who could deliberately ignore signals are not to be found in the navy of to-day."
Just then the look-out reported land on the starboard bow.
"The Frisian Islands," remarked the lieutenant as he made his way to the bridge. "Another two hours will bring us within sight of Rottum—that's the Dutch island nearest to the German island of Borkum. We'll go a little way out of the direct course and let our friend S174 know that there is such a thing as a White Ensign."
"Is that Borkum?" asked Stirling of the sub-lieutenant, pointing to a low-lying island, apparently occupied by a few cottages on the side and a row of sandhills.
"Aye; looks harmless enough. Tucked away on the lee side of those dunes is a regular hornet's nest of torpedo craft. Batteries, too, everywhere, and jolly well masked."
"Don't you think it somewhat remarkable that a destroyer should be sent from Heligoland to watch the movements of my friend's yacht when Borkum is so much nearer?"
"I do; but questions have been asked and have been answered—after a fashion. The powers that be seem satisfied, and we have to accept the situation. It's galling, but——"
And with a deprecatory movement of his hand the sub-lieutenant hurried off to join his chief on the bridge.
"Ting-ting!" The bridge telegraph signalled to the engine-room for half-speed ahead. TheBoxerwas nearing the shoals outlying the Frisian Islands.
"There she is!" exclaimed Mallet, removing his binoculars from his eyes and pointing almost dead over the bows. "That's S174."
The German destroyer was heading straight for theBoxer. In a very few minutes the two craft would be passing each other unless the German boat altered her course considerably.
In obedience to a sign from the lieutenant-commander, a seaman made his way aft to where the White Ensign floated proudly in the breeze. Uncleating the halyards he waited.
"Port your helm," came the order. Mallet, though loath to give way, was resolved to take no risks of collision. As the British destroyer swung away a point to starboard the German followed suit; then resuming their former course the two vessels swept past each other at a difference in speed of quite thirty-eight knots.
Slowly, almost defiantly, the Black Cross Ensign of S174 was lowered and quickly rehoisted. The compliment was smartly returned by theBoxer, and ere her White Ensign was hauled up to the truck the German vessel was observed to be circling to starboard.
"What's her game?" asked Mallet indignantly. "Surely she isn't going to follow us? At any rate she won't overhaul us if I can help it."
The lieutenant-commander's hand was on the bridge telegraph, ready to give the order for full-speed ahead, when the German destroyer shaped a course to the nor'-west. Her commander realized that his attempt to recapture theDiomedaby a ruse or otherwise was a failure. Rather than see the yacht leave the Dollart under the convoy of a British warship he preferred to return to Heligoland.
Since theBoxer'svisit to Delfzyl was entirely of a private character there was no official welcome by the burgomaster. Nevertheless all the town seemed to congregate on the quay to await the British destroyer's arrival.
Smartly theBoxercame alongside, and without the loss of so much as a square inch of paint was soon moored to the jetty.
"Ready, Mr. Smith?" asked Mallet, after Stirling had duly introduced the skipper of theDiomedato the lieutenant-commander of the destroyer. "Good! we'll get out a hawser at once. The tide won't serve us much longer. The sooner we start the better, for, unless I am very much mistaken, there's heavy weather knocking about within fifty miles of us."
Octavius Smith had, in fact, already made all preparations for theDiomeda'sdeparture. As soon as he had received a communication from the Admiralty, acquainting him of the special visit of a British destroyer to tow the yacht back to Lowestoft, he obtained his clearance papers at the Custom House, reprovisioned the craft, and stowed away or securely lashed on deck every article that might otherwise be swept overboard or damaged down below.
"What's the game, old man?" he asked of Stirling, as the latter returned with him to the yacht. "It seems a queer thing to do to send a destroyer solely for the purpose of towing us home. Of course I'm jolly glad, although I enjoyed my detention at Delfzyl. At the same time the letter from the Admiralty is so emphatic on the point that the yacht must be brought home that I can't help fancying that there's more in this than meets the eye."
"There I cannot help you," replied Stirling. "For one thing, I know our friend S174 has cleared off. You received those papers I sent you safely?"
"Oh yes—thanks awfully! It was a rotten climb down on the part of the British and American authorities at Berlin, but I'm inclined to think they are lying low about something."
"I hope they are," agreed Stirling. "By the by, how have you been getting on since I left you in the lurch?"
"Can't complain," drawled the skipper of theDiomeda. "Business fairly brisk; sent off four instalments of those idiotic 'Heart-to-heart Chats' and answered a regular batch of queries from love-sick servant girls. And—funny thing—old Dangler wrote and asked me to contribute a series of articles on 'Art in the Home'. Of course I started the wretched things, but as I couldn't get hold of any copies of London furniture manufacturers' catalogues I was a bit hung up. You can't get inspirations on 'Art in the Home' when you're cooped up in this dog-box of a cabin, can you? They'll have to wait till I get back. But there's the hawser coming aboard."
It did not take long to get the six-inch hawser from theBoxerto theDiomeda, where the end was bent round the yacht's mainmast close to the deck and securely stopped to the gammoning-iron. The bowsprit had already been run in, so as not to have the risk of its being snapped off by the tow rope in the broken waters of the North Sea.
The ropes that held theDiomedato the quay were cast off, the destroyer's propellers began to churn twin columns of white foam, and the hawser slowly tautened.
As theBoxerand her tow glided away from the wharf the usually phlegmatic Dutchmen raised a cheer, which compliment Smith and Stirling returned by raising their caps. Then, with the speed increased to ten knots, theDiomedafollowed in the wake of the British destroyer, homeward bound. As soon as the two craft were outside the Dollart the scope of the towing hawser was considerably increased. Nevertheless theDiomedapitched and strained in a manner that caused Smith grave misgivings.
Although there was little wind there was a long, heavy swell that presaged a strong breeze, if not a gale, before many hours had passed.
At sunset Smith placed the red and green navigation lights in position, satisfied himself that the hawser was not being chafed by the stemhead, and, having given the tiller into his companion's charge, went below to prepare supper.
Five minutes later he was up on deck again.
"Blessed if I can stick down below," he remarked. "I never felt so much like being seasick in my life. The motion is too rotten for words. It will mean an all-night watch on deck. Of course if you care to go below you can."
"Thanks, I'd rather not," replied Stirling, realizing that he stood little chance against the attacks ofmal de merwhen Smith had been forced to admit defeat.
"Very well. I'll hand up the oilskins. There's a stiff breeze piping up already."
With alarming rapidity the wind increased, blowing two points abaft the beam to starboard. At midnight it was half a gale. In spite of the speed of the towed yacht crested waves repeatedly broke inboard, till the cockpit was frequently filled with water almost to the level of the seat on the port side.
"Hang on to that lamp," shouted Smith, who had taken Stirling's place at the helm. "We may want it. I wish they would slow down; this pace is a jolly sight too hot."
His comrade was just in time to lift the signalling lamp from a bracket on the after side of the bulkhead when a vicious sea poured inboard. The stem dipped, then, jerked forward by the strain of the towrope, the yacht plunged her bows under till there was solid water as far aft as the mainmast. Just then the hawser parted like a piece of pack-thread, and theDiomedawas drifting helplessly under bare poles in the midst of the angry sea.
Smith'sfirst act was to put the helm hard down, but so fierce was the wind and so stunning the blows of the steep, crested waves that the yacht soon lost way. She wallowed sluggishly in the trough of the sea, cascades of water pouring over her on all sides. A crash, just audible above the roar of the elements, announced that one of the panes of the cabin skylight had been broken.
"Up with the mizen!" shouted the skipper.
There was no time to reef the sail. Staggering upon the wedge-shaped part of the deck abaft the mizen-mast, Smith tore frantically at the sail-tyers, while the boom charged to and fro with the force of a sledge-hammer as far as the scope of the sheet permitted.
Wellnigh breathless he regained the cockpit.
"Haul up!" he bawled.
Flapping with a series of whip-like cracks the stout canvas was hoisted. The men expected every moment to see the sail split asunder and the mast go bodily over the side. It was with feelings of relief that they saw the sorely pressed craft swing round head to wind without the threatened calamities taking place.
"We're all right for a bit," gasped Smith. "Where's theBoxer?"
As he spoke a searchlight flashed out of the darkness. For a few moments it swung in a more or less horizontal direction, as far as the erratic motion of the destroyer permitted; but as soon as the beam fell upon theDiomedathe light was immediately screened.
"They've picked us up," said Stirling. "They'll stand by us."
Again the searchlight threw out its rays, and to the astonishment of both men they saw revealed the British destroyer less than a quarter of a mile away. In the brilliant light theBoxercould be seen plugging her bows into the vicious waves. The spindrift was flying high over her four squat funnels, cascades of foam were pouring from her fo'c'sle deck, while, owing to the greatly reduced speed, she was rolling like a barrel.
Then the mysterious searchlight vanished, leaving Smith and his comrade blinking in the darkness.
"What vessel was that?" asked Stirling.
"Hanged if I know and hanged if I care," replied Smith. "Where's that lamp? There's theBoxersignalling."
Throughout the whole of the hazardous period the flashing lamp in the cockpit was still intact. Bracing himself against the swaying mizen-mast the skipper of theDiomedareplied by a few short flashes.
Slowly and deliberately the message was flashed from the destroyer, for the naval men knew that the average yachtsman is more or less of a duffer at Morse signalling.
"Ride to sea-anchor if you have one. Keep your lights burning; traffic about. Will stand by you."
"I understand," was Smith's reply, after the message had been roughly jotted down and transcribed by the aid of a codebook.
Within ten minutes the yacht was riding to her sea-anchor. The motion, as compared with the straining and plunging while under tow, was fairly easy, and after lashing an awning over the broken skylight the crew of theDiomedawere able to "stand easy".
"I'm sorry I snapped you up," remarked the skipper slowly.
"Didn't know that you did."
"But I did. Don't you remember my saying something about being hanged if I cared, when you asked me what vessel that was that was flashing her searchlight?"
"After all, it was a silly question," rejoined Stirling. "How could you be expected to know any more than I should?"
"I believe I do know, though," asserted Smith. "Look away on our port hand. Do you see those patches of misty light on the sky?"
"Well?"
"They're searchlights playing on the clouds. Evidently the Heligoland torpedo flotilla are engaged in night manoeuvres; to me it seems like a trial of aircraft versus submarines and destroyers."
"And the vessel that turned her searchlight on theBoxer? She wasn't sky hunting?"
"No; not just then. You see, she spotted the navigation lights of theBoxerand theDiomeda, and was naturally curious. But there she goes!" As Smith spoke a narrow ray of light flashed vertically upwards at apparently less than two miles away to the southward. Then, describing an ever-widening spiral, the beam searched the clouds for a considerable time, till, having satisfied herself that the object which she was in search of was not within range of the searchlight, the foreign warship screened the light and made off.
"Let's get below; it's fairly habitable," suggested Stirling. "I'm mighty hungry; and even these oilskins seem to strike cold."
"Very well; you go," was the reply. "I'll stick here till daybreak. It can't be much longer, and I fancy the wind is dropping a lot."
"It is, but it was thick while it lasted. We must have struck the tail-end of a summer hurricane." With that Stirling went below, divested himself of his oilskins, and proceeded to mop up the salt water from the cabin floor. This done he made coffee, handing out a cup to his comrade in the cockpit.
"How goes it?" he asked.
"Dawn's breaking; seas going down rapidly," replied the skipper optimistically. "The searchlights haven't been showing for the best part of half an hour."
"Boxerstill standing by, I hope?"
"Rather. I can just see her outlines against the sky. It will be quite light in twenty minutes."
As soon as the grey light in the north-eastern sky was strong enough to enable things to be seen with sufficient clearness theBoxerbore up to leeward of the yacht. By means of a megaphone the lieutenant-commander shouted to Smith to get the sea-anchor aboard, and prepare to be taken in tow.
This, by reason of the sea that was still running fairly high, was a difficult task, and by the time the yacht was again wallowing astern of the destroyer it was a quarter to five.
For the next two hours good progress was made. Almost momentarily the waves grew calmer, so that theBoxerwas able without undue risk to her charge to increase speed to twelve knots. Never before had the stanch old yacht travelled at that rate. Her following wave was a sight to behold, towering and threatening to break inboard over her pointed stern, yet never able to overtake her. After the night of anxiety both men found the motion most exhilarating, and there was every chance of sighting Old England's shores well before noon.
Suddenly Stirling grasped his companion's arm, then pointed to an object well above the skyline on the starboard bow.
"Where's the telescope?" asked Smith. "I believe it's an airship."
With some difficulty, owing to the motion of the yacht, the skipper got the glass to bear.
"It is," he affirmed. "And a thundering big one."
"One of ours?"
"I don't think so. The British ones show a dull yellow or light brown with the sun shining on them. This chap's a peculiar shade of grey. I'll semaphore to theBoxerand ask if they've spotted her."
But before Smith could get the two hand-flags from the signal locker the destroyer's gunner, followed by three seamen, came running aft.
Steadying himself by the wire rail, the warrant-officer raised a megaphone to his lips.
"We're going to cast you adrift,"' he shouted. "Make sail and steer sou'-sou'-west. There's a foreign airship in difficulties. We're off to investigate. Will return and pick you up later."
"Aye, aye," shouted Smith. "What nationality is she?"
The gunner shook his head and tapped the megaphone suggestively. Without its aid conversation was inaudible.
Hardly had Smith cast off the hawser and the crew of theBoxergathered it aboard when the destroyer set off at full speed in order to intercept the drifting airship.
Having set staysail, jib, and mizen, the skipper of theDiomedashaped a course as indicated by theBoxer, while Smith's telescope was brought into constant use by one or the other of the crew.
"She's descending," announced Stirling. "By Jove, she'll fall into the sea in a minute—no, she's steady. They have evidently emptied the water-ballast tanks. Here, you take the telescope."
TheBoxerhad apparently come within the proper distance of the airship, for although it was almost an impossibility to gauge relative distances through a telescope, Stirling could see the destroyer circling to starboard.
"They've got a line on board," he declared excitedly. "The airship is turning head to wind. TheBoxeris returning. I say, what luck for theWestminster Daily Record! 'Exciting salvage of a Zeppelin by a British destroyer in the North Sea—by our Special Correspondent.' How will that look?"
"I shall be able to look the better if you'll kindly hand me the telescope," said Smith grimly. "Thanks! I am a rotter though. If I had only had the forethought to bring a camera—can't be helped. She's badly damaged, I can see. No one on board. Yes, there is, by Jove. There's a fellow in a greatcoat standing just in front of the midship car, or whatever they call it."
Nearer and nearer came the destroyer, with the Zeppelin straining and seesawing at the end of a hawser against the fairly stiff breeze. Presently the semaphore on theBoxer'sbridge began to work.
As soon as Smith made the acknowledgment he seized a pencil and jotted down the movements of the signal arms; then by the aid of a diagram in the signal book he deciphered the message.
"Carry on under sail. Cannot take you in tow. Have sent by wireless to Harwich for assistance."
"I understand," replied theDiomeda'sskipper by semaphore; then taking up the telescope he directed it towards the airship.
image: hamerton
image: hamerton
[Illustration: "'GREAT SCOTT!' HE EXCLAIMED; 'IT'S HAMERTON'"]
[Illustration: "'GREAT SCOTT!' HE EXCLAIMED; 'IT'S HAMERTON'"]
The Zeppelin was now less than half a mile off. By the aid of the glass Smith could see the solitary figure on the suspended platform.
"Great Scott," he exclaimed, "it's Hamerton!"
"Never!"
"Fact. I can see him as plain as a pikestaff."
"Hurrah!" shouted Stirling. "Now what price the German Government's explanations? And, old man, what a scoop!The Westminsterfirst, the rest nowhere. Good Old Hamerton!"
Ata quarter to five in the afternoon of the same day as the salvage of the derelict Zeppelin was effected, Rex Thompson, the energetic editor ofThe Westminster Daily Record, was superintending the final setting-up of the evening edition.
The stop-press column was being delayed until the tape machine had finished the report of the strange occurrence in the North Sea—how a British destroyer had fallen in with and had towed into Harwich one of the latest type of Zeppelins. Presently the door was flung wide open, and Gordon Stirling burst into the room.
"Heard the news?" he asked breathlessly. "The Zeppelin?"
"Hallo, where did you spring from?" demanded Thompson in even tones. "I thought you were supposed to be in Holland?"
"But the news?" demanded the young "special".
"Yes, yes, my dear Stirling. I am afraid you are a trifle late."
Stirling's face fell. It seemed hard lines, after having received Lieutenant Mallet's assurance that no information would be given to the Press representatives of Hamerton's presence on the fugitive airship, that the news should have leaked out. The knowledge that a German airship had been brought into Harwich was common property. It was impossible to hide a gasbag of nearly a million cubic feet capacity from the public gaze, but Stirling counted on Mallet's word. The details were, of course, communicated by wireless to the Admiralty, butThe Westminster Record'sspecial was to be the medium whereby the news of Hamerton's hairbreadth escape was to be given out to the great British Public.
Stirling dare not telegraph or telephone the momentous news. Instead he chartered a powerful car, and in an hour and twenty-five minutes the chauffeur drew up outsideThe Westminster Record'soffices.
And then came the crowning disappointment. In bland tones he had been informed by his chief that the news he brought was a trifle—just a trifle—late.
"You might, however, glance at this," continued Thompson, handing him the typed transcript of the tape message. "If there's anything important to add, let me know."
The editor, mentally burying himself in a mass of papers, was suddenly startled by a tremendous crash. Stirling had, in his excitement, brought his fist down heavily upon the table, causing Thompson's fountain pen to splutter all over a nearly completed leader, while the pastepot and a bottle of red ink indiscriminately shed their contents over the latest efforts on the part ofThe Westminster Record'sparliamentary representative.
Thompson was on the point of using language that could hardly be termed parliamentary, even in these latter days of politics, when Stirling interrupted him.
"You haven't got it," he shouted, almost carried away in his excitement. "You've missed the whole point. Hamerton's back!"
"What do you mean?"
"Hamerton—Hamerton made his escape in the Zeppelin."
"Fact?" asked Thompson coolly, raising one eyebrow as was his wont.
"Rather. I saw him."
"Interviewed him?"
"No."
"Silly owl; you've missed the chance of a life-time. Carry on. Scribble half a dozen sticks—no, half a column. I'll get the space held open."
Stirling was perfectly collected by this time. He wrote as he had never written before—at great speed, yet in a lucid, connected style.
"Here you are, sir," he announced quietly.
Thompson seized the blue pencil in anticipation. A look of mild satisfaction that quickly gave way to exuberant delight overspread his face as he read. The blue pencil was not required.
"Well done, Stirling; a straightforward piece of work, and every line full of life!" he exclaimed, betraying an unwonted enthusiasm. "Now, take my advice: go and get a good square meal, and go to bed early. There'll be nothing doing, as far as you are concerned, till to-morrow morning."
Meanwhile Sub-Lieutenant Hamerton, temporarily "rigged out" in mufti obligingly lent by the commander of theBoxer, quietly slipped ashore at Harwich, took train to town, and with the least possible delay reported himself at the Admiralty.
For over two hours he was detained by the First Lord and the First Sea Lord, both of whom happened by a pure slice of luck to be in Whitehall when the momentous cipher telegram announcing Hamerton's return in the disabled Zeppelin was received.
"There's an underhand piece of work somewhere," remarked Admiral Sir James Churcher, the First Sea Lord. "Coming on the top of the German Government's explanation to our ambassador it cannot be regarded as otherwise."
"I agree with you," said the First Lord. "This affair will ultimately be settled by the Navy, Churcher, of that I feel sure."
"Unless Germany climbs down."
"She won't; it will be a hard fight to the finish. These Teutons are of very much the same characteristics as ourselves, remember. Of course, diplomatic negotiations may put off the evil day, but after the way our Foreign Office has been utterly fooled I don't put much faith in that prospect. By the by, Mr. Hamerton, you mentioned that you found a German confidential book on torpedoes. What became of it?"
"I had it, but it was found when the yacht was searched, sir."
"H'm! I suppose that made it all the worse for you?"
"I hardly know, sir. It seemed as if they had made up their minds to condemn us long before the actual trial."
"Did you make any notes?"
"Of what, sir?"
"Of the contents of the torpedo manual."
"No, sir; there was not time."
"Unfortunate," remarked Admiral Churcher. "The range of the new-pattern Schwartz-Kopff torpedo is considerably greater than that of our improved Whitehead. There is a rumour—we cannot obtain confirmation—that its maximum range is twelve miles. It all depends upon the motive power. Of course this is an important advantage, so far as Germany is concerned, and it is a great pity that we failed to obtain the secret, once the book was in your possession, Mr. Hamerton. I realize, however, that it was due to no fault of yours."
Hamerton bowed.
"I congratulate you once again," continued the First Sea Lord, "on your escape. For the next two days you ought to rest, but I fear the exigencies of the Service will not permit. So be prepared to find your appointment posted in the course of forty-eight hours or so."
The Sub took his leave. In the anteroom he rejoined his father, who, on receipt of a telegram, had hastened to meet his son; and the two made their way towards the main entrance.
"Here is Mr. Hamerton," said the uniformed messenger, addressing a short, thick-set individual, whose face bore a smile of anticipated pleasure.
"Mr. Hamerton?" he asked.
"Yes; but you have the advantage of me."
"Oh, I'm Stirling! I've seen you at a distance, you know, only——"
"Glad to meet you, Mr. Stirling," said the Sub warmly. "I know who you are now, right enough. You're the fellow who discovered that Detroit and I were prisoners on the island of Heligoland."
"Didn't do much good, I'm afraid," added Stirling modestly. "You got away independent of that. But this is what I want to see you about," holding out a small paper parcel. "I found it stowed away on theDiomeda. It's a torpedo book."
"You did, by Jove!" exclaimed Hamerton. "Stirling, you have done a national service. I thought the book had been found by the German officer who searched the yacht. Stand by in the waiting-room for a few minutes longer, Pater; I'm going to take Mr. Stirling in to see the First Lord."
It would be no exaggeration to affirm that the whole of the English-speaking inhabitants of the globe were agitated by the astounding escape of Sub-Lieutenant Hamerton from captivity.
In America anti-German sentiments rose high, while urgent representations were made to the Capitol that an emphatic demand for Detroit's release should be instantly sent to Berlin.
Both in Great Britain and the United States it was realized that an international crisis was imminent. Consols dropped lower than they had ever been known to fall before. The American Pacific Fleet was ordered to pass through the Panama Canal and join the Atlantic Squadron at a rendezvous off Cape Hatteras, and await orders. Simultaneously the British Fleet, that for years past had been placed on a war footing, was unostentatiously mobilized; the Portsmouth, Portland, and Devonport ships being ordered to concentrate at the Nore, while the Third and Fourth Squadrons of the Home Fleet were sent to Cromarty Firth.
For the present nothing more could be done without indirectly challenging Germany to settle the matter by the arbitrament of war. Diplomatic relations were yet to be given one more chance, in the hope of allaying the enmity between the great rivals for sea supremacy.
General Heinrich von Wittelsbach had been once more hurriedly summoned to Berlin. With a heavy heart he set out to meet his imperial master. Fate had indeed treated him badly, though no less than his high-handed actions—done, according to his views, in the interest of the Fatherland—demanded. Not only had he failed to keep one of the alleged spies under lock and key; he was threatened with ignominy. It seemed impossible for him to explain satisfactorily the reason for deceiving the Emperor, who, on his assurances, had imperiously replied to the British and American Ambassadors' Note. There was also the humiliation of having lost one of the latest Zeppelins, which Great Britain was keeping under the pretext that it was unfit to be towed back to Heligoland, but in reality as a hostage.
"General, you have been over-hasty," was the Emperor's greeting, "I might say over-zealous."
"Sire, I regret deeply——"
"One moment, Von Wittelsbach," said his Imperial sovereign. "Before you start offering regrets would it not be better to give us your version of this affair—the true version, mind? What say you, Von Rhule?"
Von Rhule, the Chancellor, who was the only person present at the interview, merely inclined his head. He was a man of few words, but he had a will of which even his master stood in awe. His policy was not only "Germany for the Germans", not merely a desire for "a place in the sun", but a determination to make the German Empire the predominant nation on land and sea. Although his rise to power had been of comparatively recent date, he was beginning to be recognized as a super-Bismarck. If Bismarck were described as a man of blood and iron, Von Rhule's ambition was to be regarded as a man of brains and steel. Needless to say, he was an Anglophobe. One of the few disappointments of his hitherto brief career was the failure of his agents to provoke a quarrel between the United States and Great Britain over Mexican affairs. He placed very little reliance upon the Triple Alliance. His idea was to set Austria against Russia and engineer a war between France and Italy. Germany, standing aloof during the struggle between the two pairs of combatants, could then afford to dictate to the victors of the exhausting war.
Heinrich von Wittelsbach had the acumen to perceive that the Emperor was inclined to treat the Hamerton and Detroit incident in an indulgent way. In a blunt, soldier-like fashion the commandant of the garrison of Heligoland told his story, omitting no important point and offering no excuses.
"Now, General, your motive?" demanded the Emperor.
"Sire, my motive was simply the great desire of my career: to safeguard the output of the Empire against all attempts on the part of foreign powers to steal the results of patience and diligence on the part of the German nation. I have freely admitted that my initial act in hastily placing those men under arrest was an error."
"And therefore you hoped, by piling error upon error, to remedy your original fault?"
"Solely in the interests of Your Majesty, sire."
"And have placed me in a quandary. Germany must either become the laughing-stock of the whole world or else command respect at the point of the sword. Look at the present state of this affair. The English are clamouring for war. History will tell you that their ancestors demanded and obtained a declaration of hostilities against Spain simply on account of the loss of a man's ear. I know them; they are a peculiar nation. Their ministers of state are ever proclaiming their desire for peaceable relations with us; yet, in spite of their vaunted boast to act fairly and squarely with all the world, they would deny us the right to develop as a healthy nation ought and must. Am I not right, Von Rhule?"
"Yes, sire. Take the latest case in point—Damaraland."
The Emperor's brow darkened. He remembered the incident only too well. A few months ago two Alsatian recruits had been drafted with others to German South Africa. The men, bullied and ill-treated by their officers, deserted and escaped into Walfisch Bay. The German officer in command dispatched troops in pursuit, and the latter, possibly unwittingly, entered British territory. A native, refusing to give information, was ordered to be beaten, and in retaliation a number of Kroomen stoned the German soldiers. Meanwhile the British authorities refused to give up the deserters on the grounds that they were political refugees, and ordered them to be sent on to Cape Town.
For a few moments the Emperor looked fixedly at the Chancellor, then in low, emotional tones he asked:
"Are we ready?"
"Yes, sire; to the last——"
"Stop!" exclaimed the Emperor. "Was not a similar reply given to the Emperor of the French half a century ago? You know what that led to? Have we the Reichstag solidly at our backs?"
"All, sire, except the Socialists on the extreme left. But they need not be taken into account. Later on they will be dealt with as their stubbornness merits."
"Then there is the possibility, nay, probability, of a rupture with the United States?"
"True, sire; but give us four clear days and Great Britain will be humiliated; her navy will be almost utterly destroyed. Our destroyer flotillas could then lie in wait for the American fleet, and it will be a case of Tsuhsima over again."
"You are sanguine, Von Rhule."
"Assuredly, sire. Everything is in our favour. Take the English fleet at the present time. Nine battleships and battle-cruisers are under repair in the various dockyards, eleven battleships and their attached craft are now in the Mediterranean, eight days' steaming from the Straits of Dover. Thus we have a predominance in battleships in the North Sea, to say nothing of the surprise attack our destroyers and submarines are able to deliver. Our aerial fleet also——"
"One Zeppelin of which is at present in the hands of the English."
"True, sire, but an aerial fleet will be able to inflict enormous damage to the docks of the east coast of England; perhaps even London may be reduced to a heap of ruins."
"Your words smack too much of the word 'perhaps', Von Rhule."
"My perhaps, sire, means a certainty," said the Chancellor grimly.
"You are omitting the element of chance."
"There is no need to make allowances for chance, sire. Our preparations are made so as to be independent of that."
The Kaiser still hesitated, and Von Rhule noted his master's indecision.
"Sire," he continued, "never again will such an opportunity present itself. By next year these English will have five new battleships in commission, without counting four built for foreign Governments and which they can press into their service. Thanks to our friends the Socialists on the extreme left, our expenditure is limited to the construction of only three large ships of war. The people are groaning under the imposts: it will be unwise to press them by additional taxation. Our destiny lies on the sea. You, sire, know it well. Throw away the chance of achieving our dominant end, and never again will a like opportunity present itself."
"What say you, Von Wittelsbach?"
"Sire, I can but entirely agree with what Count von Rhule has spoken."
"So be it," concluded the Emperor. "We will summon a meeting of the Supreme War Council this afternoon."
Withoutthe formality of a declaration of war hostilities were begun. Taking the precedent of the Russo-Japanese war, when the Japs delivered what might be termed a treacherous attack upon Port Arthur—an act that was tolerantly regarded by her ally, Great Britain—a squadron of Zeppelins, numbering seventeen in all, proceeded to a rendezvous at the mouth of the Elbe, accompanied by seventy-two seaplanes. As night fell the whole of the destroyer flotillas of Heligoland, Borkum, and Westerland Sylt shaped a course for British waters. Two hours later the aircraft left to deliver simultaneous surprise attacks upon Sheerness, Harwich, the Tyne, Rosyth, and Dundee.
At midnight the British and American ambassadors at Berlin were informed of the outbreak of hostilities. Guards were posted outside the embassies, and all telephonic and telegraphic communications from these buildings were interrupted. The ambassadors were informed that they would be at liberty to leave Germany either via Paris or Vienna after a lapse of twelve hours.
At 2 a.m. the cables between Borkum and Lowestoft, which, subject to censorship, had been working normally, suddenly ceased to transmit messages. From that moment all direct telegraphic communication between Great Britain and Germany was broken off.
Strangely enough, that very element of chance that the German Chancellor claimed to have eliminated became most pronounced. For weeks past the prevailing winds had been from an easterly or north-easterly direction; now without warning they backed to the westward. By midnight it was blowing with almost the velocity of a hurricane. Consequently the German aircraft, especially the Zeppelins, made a comparatively slow voyage.
Now it happened that the British fishery-protection gunboatOnyxwas cruising off the sou'-west tail of the Dogger Bank, and the attention of the officer of the watch was called to a peculiar buzzing sound overhead that was plainly audible during a lull in the wind.
Bringing his night glasses to bear the officer made the discovery that a number of seaplanes were battling against the wind, their direction being due west.
Fortunately the lieutenant did not attempt to train a searchlight upon the aircraft, nor did he offer to enter into communication by means of a flashing-lamp; but he promptly got in touch with Scarborough wireless station:—