"What's that light, Jan?" asked the Flight-Sub.
TheHoornwas now well beyond the three-mile limit. Ross and his fellow-passenger were standing aft, sheltering from the keen south-westerly wind. The mate of the vessel was with them, the skipper being on the bridge.
"Those lights?" corrected Jan. "They have been visible all the time. They are the two white leading-lights to Ymuiden harbour."
"No, I don't mean those," said the Flight-Sub. "Away to the south'ard, quite a mile from the harbour. See, it's showing again."
From the dunes a white light blinked thrice and then disappeared.
"I do not know," answered Jan gravely. He thought for a moment and then said: "Half a mo'. I will speak to the skipper."
"Hanged if I like it," muttered the Flight-Sub. "I say, Trefusis, that light blinking away looks very fishy. It would mean a fifty-pound fine in England; but here, apparently, it is not objected to."
The skipper and the mate were talking rapidly. Both men were leaning over the after side of the bridge-rails, with their eyes fixed upon the dark shore from which the mysterious light flickered at regular intervals.
"Light on the port bow," reported the helmsman. Both of theHoorn'sofficers turned just in time to catch sight of a steady white light before it disappeared. Whatever its meaning, it was remarkable that from that moment the shore light ceased to blink.
"Put out our navigation lamps, Jan," said the skipper. "Someone has betrayed your English friends. Nevertheless I will do all in my power to aid them. We'll steer south-west for an hour. Perhaps we may outwit yon craft, whatever she may be, before dawn."
Ross and his companion were quick to note the alteration of helm. They knew, too, that the removal of the steaming-lights was for the purpose of baffling what must be, to a dead certainty, a German craft—a submarine, or perhaps a torpedo-boat, since the latter frequently ventured out of Borkum and crept stealthily towards the Schelde, keeping close to the Dutch territorial waters in order to avoid being snapped by the vigilant British destroyer flotilla.
Slowly the wintry day dawned. Anxiously the British officers scanned the horizon. The low-lying Dutch coast was now invisible. All around was a waste of grey, tumbling waves, unbroken by a sail of any description.
TheHoornwas ploughing her way at a modest ten knots. Short, beamy, and deep-draughted, she was pitching heavily, sending a frothy bow wave far to leeward each time she dipped her nose into the steep seas.
"I'd give a fiver for the sight of a good old White Ensign at the present moment," remarked the Flight-Sub anxiously. "Good heavens, what's that?"
Ten seconds later he laughed mirthlessly.
"Nerves going to blazes," he muttered. "A bit of wreckage gave me the jumps. By Jove, don't we look a pair of comical objects?"
They had discarded their grotesque head-dress. Ross had a woollen muffler wrapped round his head, while his companion had been given the loan of a red stocking-cap, but they still retained the weird garb in which they had made their journey down the ship canal.
Suddenly Ross gripped his companion's arm and pointed with his right hand to a spar-like object projecting a few feet, close to the waves, at less than a cable's length on the port quarter.
"A periscope!" ejaculated the Flight-Sub.
"Let's hope it's one of our own submarines," said Ross.
"We'll soon find out," added his companion. "It's forging ahead. Whatever it is, they've got us under observation."
Jan, who was now on the bridge, had his attention called to the disconcerting fact. He beckoned to his two passengers.
"You had better go below and stow yourselves away," he suggested. "We will be boarded before long."
"Not I," replied the Flight-Sub. "They've marked us already. If they do take us they won't have to dig us out of a coal-bunker."
The submarine was emerging. At a pace that more than held its own with theHoorn, she shook herself clear of the water, although green seas were breaking across the flat deck as far aft as the conning-tower.
Then muffled forms clambered through the hatchway; a young, yellow-bearded officer appeared on the navigation platform and hailed theHoornin Dutch to heave to instantly.
Even then the tough old Dutch skipper was not going to give in without a protest.
"For what reason?" he shouted back. "This is a Netherlands ship."
"That I do not doubt," rejoined the officer of the submarine. "But you have two Englishmen on board who have broken their parole——"
"You lie!" interrupted the skipper vehemently.
"Not a word more!" exclaimed the German fiercely. "Heave to, or we sink you!"
Reluctantly the "old man" gave the order to stop the engines. Jan, sliding down the bridge ladder, communicated to the British officers the text of the conversation.
"Some rascal of a German spy has betrayed you," he added. "If I could lay my hands upon him——"
There was a look on the Dutchman's face which showed that his anger was genuine.
"All right, Jan," said the Flight-Sub. "It's the fortune of war."
"Deucedly rotten morning," remarked Sub-lieutenant Fox as he greeted the officer of the watch, whom he was about to relieve.
Eccles, the Lieutenant, who had been on theCapella'sbridge for four long and dreary hours, merely nodded sleepily. He was thinking, with feelings of satisfaction, of the hot coffee and fragrant bacon and eggs awaiting him below. Three minutes had to elapse before eight bells. Wearily he rubbed his salt-rimmed eyelids with a heavily gloved hand.
"Tauruswirelessed twenty minutes ago," he reported, as the two officers entered the chart-room. "She was then at the extreme limit of her northerly course. You ought to sight her very shortly. Here's our course"—he indicated the pencilled line on the chart. "Nothing to report: there never is when I'm officer of the watch. It's this infernal monotony that plays havoc with a fellow's nerves."
Noel Fox nodded sympathetically. Although theCapellahad been only six days on her new station—keeping a watch on the Dutch coast between the Texel and the North Hinder Lightship—he, too, was mightily "fed up" with the task of "treading on the tail of Germany's coat".
Not so much as the periscope of a hostile submarine had been sighted. The German torpedo-boats that occasionally sneaked southwards from Borkum were taking an enforced holiday. Perhaps it was in sympathy with the "High Seas Fleet" skulking in the Kiel Canal. In any case, the six motor craft of theCapellaclass had a full share of wintry conditions in the North Sea without any compensating adventures to mitigate the monotony.
As Eccles descended from the bridge, a great-coated muffled-up figure, followed by a large dog, swung himself up the ladder.
"Morning, Haye," was Noel Fox's salutation, as he stooped to pat Shrap, the chartered libertine of theCapella. "Dash it all, it is cold! Makes a fellow wish he were a sheep-dog. Here, Shrap, off you go and get your whiskers trimmed. I can see Tomkins waiting for you."
The dog needed no second order. Every morning just after eight bells Shrap would be taken over by the watch below. Every man took a delight in combing the animal's long hair, until Shrap's coat was the pride of theCapella'screw and the envy of the rest of the flotilla, whose mascots never aspired to be more than a tame rat, parrot, or canary.
"Sail on the port bow, sir," bawled the look-out.
The Sub and the midshipman promptly levelled their telescopes. A small cargo-steamer was pitching and rolling as she forged slowly ahead on a westerly course. Although she was fairly discernible against the pale grey of the eastern sky, it could be taken for granted that from the Dutchman's bridge the neutral-grey-paintedCapellawould be practically invisible.
"She's slowing down," declared Vernon.
"What on earth for?" enquired the Sub. "She couldn't possibly have spotted us. Starboard your helm, quartermaster. Good! Keep her at that. We'll get her to make her number, if nothing else."
Again Noel Fox levelled his telescope. Then he thrust it into a rack on the side of the chart-room, and bellowed:
"Turn up, both watches. Action stations. Submarine ahead."
His quick glance had discerned the after part of a large unterseeboot as she ranged alongside the Dutchman, whose high sides screened most of the submarine from theCapella, and conversely prevented the Germans clustered amidships from noticing the approach of the swift British patrol-vessel.
For the next few minutes, all was bustle and orderly confusion on board theCapella. Taking three steps at a time, Captain Syllenger gained the bridge, closely followed by Eccles, to whom the sudden interruption of a hearty breakfast came as a welcome call.
At a terrific pace the sleuth-hound of the sea tore towards theHoorn, for such she was. Rounding under her squat counter, and reversing engines, theCapellabrought up within fifty yards of the submarine before the astonished Germans could realize their precarious plight.
"Surrender, or I sink you!" roared Captain Syllenger.
The grim muzzles of theCapella's4.7's, trained at a point-blank range, were a conclusive argument. Without waiting for orders, the majority of the unterseeboot's crew held up their arms. For a brief instant did her Kapitan hesitate.
"Me surrender," he replied.
"Very good; I accept your surrender," replied theCapella'sskipper. "But understand, any attempt to open the sea-cocks will mean that no quarter will be given. Order all hands below, and leave the hatchways open. You will oblige me by proceeding on board His Majesty's shipCapella."
By this time theHoornwas forging ahead, since she was in danger of drifting down upon the captured submarine. In the excitement of the capture, no one on board noticed two grotesquely garbed men on theHoornwhose antics resembled those of a pair of demented creatures; nor was the presence of a couple of dejected German leutnants and five seamen, stranded on board the Dutchman, observed, as the Huns frantically besought the obdurate skipper of theHoornto steam as hard as he could towards the Dutch coast.
It was Vernon Haye's duty to take the cutter and board the prize. It was a hazardous piece of work, for the sea was now fairly high, and breaking under the effect of tide against wind; but, with the exception of a broken top-strake, the boat managed to lie sufficiently close alongside the submarine to enable the midshipman and five seamen to board.
Already the German crew were below. Hatches were lowered and secured, with the exception of the one in the after side of the conning-tower. This could be left open without fear of the submarine being swamped, while, to prevent the captured crew closing it and making an attempt to dive, the steel cover was removed from its hinges and secured on deck. The Black Cross flag was hauled down and rehoisted under the White Ensign, and preparations were made to take the prize in tow.
It was some time before a grass rope, to which a stout wire hawser was bent, could be veered from theCapella'squarter and taken on board the submarine, but eventually the hawser was made fast.
"Now, sir," said Vernon, addressing the German Kapitan. "Will you please step into that boat? Where are the other officers?"
"In that ship," replied the Hun sullenly, as he pointed towards theHoorn. "They will not welcome you, but there are others who will."
Not knowing what the German meant, Vernon indicated that he should get on board the cutter.
"There are two German officers on board that vessel, air," reported the midshipman, as the boat came alongside theCapella. "Am I to bring them off?"
Captain Syllenger hesitated before replying. It was a knotty problem. To remove by force the subjects of a hostile nation from a neutral ship was contrary to international law. However much the Germans violated the "right of search", it was not Great Britain's policy to engage upon reprisals. Holland, although a third-rate Power, had to be treated with due courtesy.
"It's all the same in the long run," replied Captain Syllenger. "Board that vessel, Mr. Haye, and see what those fellows are doing there. If the Dutch skipper objects to their presence on his hooker, then bundle them into the boat. If, on the other hand, he protests against their removal, let them remain. They will be collared as soon as the ship enters our three-mile limit."
TheHoornhad once more come to a dead stop, at two cables' length from the British patrol-vessel.
As theCapella'scutter came alongside, Vernon agilely scrambled up the "monkey ladder" and gained the deck.
"Hulloa, old man!" exclaimed a well-known voice.
Vernon looked at the speaker. He knew the voice, but for a moment he failed to recognize in the oddly garbed youth his chum Ross Trefusis. Then he grinned broadly.
"My word!" he exclaimed. "You do cut a pretty figure."
Had they been of any nationality but British, the lads would have fallen on each other's necks and perhaps kissed each other. Instead, they stood a yard apart and laughed—but their mutual joy was none the less genuine.
"So you've come to fetch the German Leutnant and his boat's crew," said Ross, after Haye had been introduced to the Flight-Sub. "He's somewhere below. You'll recognize him right enough."
"Eh?" asked Vernon incredulously.
"Rather!" declared Ross emphatically. "You'd never guess. It's our old pal, Hermann Rix, late of U75. No wonder he's tearing his hair, for he must have broken his parole. He knew me directly he came over the side, and didn't forget to rub it in. You should have seen his face when, in the midst of his beastly gibes, the oldCapellacame snorting up."
With Jan acting as interpreter, Vernon put his case before the Dutch skipper, who seemed only too delighted at the way events had turned. His satisfaction at getting rid of his Hunnish visitors was evident, in spite of the stolidity of his manners.
"I want no pirates on board theHoorn," he said. "Take them and welcome!"
While the Flight-Sub and Ross were "squaring up" with the good-hearted Jan, Vernon rounded up Ober-leutnant Rix and his boat's crew. Finding that their protests to the Dutch skipper were of no avail, they sullenly gave in.
"Look here," said Ross, taking his chum aside. "I don't want to crow over that fellow. It isn't cricket. You might take him to theCapellaand come back for us. You'll have a pretty good load as it is."
"Two British officers, escaped from an internment camp, on board theHoorn, sir," reported Vernon, as he delivered his cargo of German prisoners on board theCapella. "They would like to be taken off."
"Carry on, then," replied Captain Syllenger.
As the cutter returned from her second trip to theHoorn, theCapella'screw awaited with undisguised curiosity the arrival of the men who had contrived to escape from irksome detention in a neutral country.
Presently Shrap, who was sitting up on the quarterdeck, gave a bark of delight.
"Good old Shrap!" said Ross. "He knew me in spite of my rig-out."
"Blow me, if it ain't Mr. Trefusis!" exclaimed one of the men.
The next instant the first of three hearty cheers burst from the throats of the crew, with whom Ross was a great favourite. The Dutchmen, too, joined in, to the accompaniment of a prolonged blast upon theHoorn'ssiren as she resumed her interrupted voyage.
"It's like being home again," declared Ross, after Captain Syllenger and the other officers had congratulated him. "But, I say, can anyone lend me a decent suit of togs?"
A fortnight had elapsed since the day on which H.M.S.Capellatowed the captured unterseeboot into Harwich harbour. Since then she had been attached to a base on the East coast of Scotland, her sphere of usefulness in the English Channel being a thing of the past.
The German blockade had fizzled out like a damp squib. Absolutely afraid to risk the remaining boats in operations that would certainly end in their being unceremoniously conveyed to Davy Jones's locker, the German Admiralty had dispatched them to the Mediterranean, where, under the Austrian flag, they attempted, at first with a certain degree of success, to terrorize merchantmen by their "frightfulness".
So theCapellahad been ordered to Cromarty Firth, pending the completion of arrangements for sending a fleet of swift destroyers and patrol-boats to operate in conjunction with the British submarines in the Baltic.
Almost the first duty Ross had to undertake upon arrival was to draw money for the ship's company from the Paymaster's office at Invergordon.
Accompanied by six seamen, wearing their side-arms and carrying three canvas bags, the midshipman landed, and proceeded to the office. Leaving the escort "standing easy", Ross entered the building and found himself confronted by a door on which was painted the words, "Accountant Officer". Underneath was a piece of cardboard on which was written: "Don't knock—walk in".
The midshipman accepted the invitation and entered. It was a large room. Against one wall were three knee-hole desks, at which were seated naval "writers"—petty officers detached for clerical work. Two more were bending over a large tray, studiously engaged in "putting the money up", or placing wages in the compartments of the tray in order to facilitate the forthcoming payment to the civilian workers attached to the establishment. At a large desk was an officer, with his head almost touching a litter of papers. His back was turned, but Ross could see by the gold-and-white band that he was an Assistant Paymaster.
Hearing footsteps behind him, the A.P. broke into a torrent of abuse:
"Of all the scatter-brained idiots that act the giddy goat, this strafed lunatic takes the proverbial ship's biscuit!" he exclaimed. "Just look here, Carruthers; did you ever see such a piece of arrant tomfoolery——"
He turned his head, and saw it was not Carruthers.
"Sorry," he said apologetically. "Thought it was someone else. You must have imagined that I was off my head. It's a wonder I'm not. Look at this: here am I up to my eyes in work, and I get this sort of thing fired at me."
Ross looked at the tendered document. It was headed: "Queries in the Store Ledger", and the gem to which the harassed A.P. had referred was as follows:—
"4 oz. tin-tacks. Please say if these are synonymous with 'tacks tinned'."
The midshipman laughed. The A.P. glared.
"Some rotten idiot drawing five hundred a year evidently doesn't realize it's war-time," he growled. "Now, what can I do for you?"
At length the midshipman received the necessary coin. He was about to leave the officer when he found himself face to face with John Barry, now a Lieutenant-Commander, R.N.R.
"Bless my soul, Trefusis!" exclaimed Barry cordially. "I am glad to see you. I heard the newCapellawas ordered round. How's everyone? Thanks, I'm top-hole. In a deuce of a hurry! Look here, come on board and see me to-night. TheHunbilkeris lying off Cromarty. Can you manage it?"
"I think so," replied Ross.
"Very good; bring Haye with you. I'll send a boat at seven bells."
Captain Syllenger readily gave the midshipmen permission.
"It looks as if it might blow a bit before very long," he added. "If so, remain on board until morning. It's no joke making a five-mile trip in a steamboat on a pitch-dark night with a sea running."
The lads were delighted at the prospect of the visit. They were both awfully keen on John Barry; besides, they were rather anxious to see what sort of command he had. The ship's name was enough to excite their curiosity. She had evidently arrived later than theCapella, for there was no sign of a craft bearing that name when the patrol-vessel passed Cromarty on the previous afternoon.
Punctually at seven bells a grey motor-boat dashed up alongside theCapella'sgangway. Shrap, whose instinct told him that his young master was leaving the ship, anticipated him by making a prodigious bound from the side into the waiting boat, alighting upon the shoulders of the coxswain, much to that worthy's astonishment.
"Never mind, sir," replied the man, in answer to Vernon's apologies. "I've a dog myself at home, very much like this one."
"Let him come with us," suggested Ross. "He'll kick up an awful row if you don't."
So Shrap, coiled up in the stern-sheets, had his way.
Having received the midshipmen, the boat turned and threshed its way in the teeth of a strong easterly breeze.
"Yes, sir, that's theHunbilker," replied the coxswain in answer to Vernon's query, as a large grey shape loomed through the twilight.
"By Jove!" ejaculated Ross, absolutely taken aback. "She's a whopper. Old Barry's got a battleship. If she isn't a sister ship to theTremendous, I'm a——"
Fortunately for him, Ross refrained from saying what he might be, for as things turned out he was wrong. TheHunbilkercommenced her career as a 6000-ton merchantman, but no one would recognize her as such.
In all probability, but for the war, she would have ended her career as such. But the Navy required her for a certain purpose, and loyally the old tramp stepped into the breach. When, after a lapse of nine weeks, she emerged from the repairing basin, her disguise was complete. She looked to be what she was not. It is, therefore, no cause for wonderment that the two midshipmen were deceived by the enormous outlines of what appeared to be a formidable unit of the British Navy. TheHunbilkerwas, in short, a maritime ass in lion's skin, but her role was none the less a responsible one.
"I was rather doubtful whether you would turn up," remarked Barry. "The glass is dropping like billy-ho, and there's a brute of a sea tumbling in."
"We need not return to-night," announced Ross.
"That's capital," rejoined the Lieutenant-Commander. "I'll get the hands to hoist in the boat and trice the accommodation-ladder up. We roll like a barrel in a sea-way."
"You've got a big command this time, sir," said Vernon.
Barry smiled.
"Yes," he replied. "Plenty of room, but the lighting 'tween decks is rotten. All artificial, you know, except the little we get in through the quarter-deck skylights. I'm expecting young Jolly; he's the A. P. you saw ashore at Invergordon. Not a bad sort of youngster when he's clear of his work. Would you like to look round before we go below?"
"Of course the Germans know all about our dummy battleships," continued Barry as he led the way. "They jeered at the scheme in the papers as far back as last November twelvemonth."
"Then what's the object?" asked Ross.
"It muddles them up. They can't distinguish theTremendousfrom this packet, especially in hazy weather. They've got to guess which is the substance and which is the shadow. From actual results we know now that the costly experiment has more than justified the expenditure."
The Lieutenant-Commander and his young guests continued to talk shop until it was time to go below. From that moment, conversation drifted into other channels of more or less personal interest.
Presently a loud whistle was heard from without.
"That's Jolly," declared the Lieutenant-Commander. "It's the last boat to-night, I fancy."
A few minutes later the A. P., having divested himself of his dripping oilies and sou'wester, was ushered into the cabin. Separated from his duties as Accountant Officer, he was much the same as other men. Ross could hardly believe that the jovial officer—for he did not now belie his name—was the same explosive man who had figuratively lost his head over four ounces of "tacks tinned".
Dinner over, the four officers drew their chairs close to the fire and yarned incessantly. Even the laboured rolling of the ship, the howling of the wind overhead, and thechouf choufof the waves as they slapped against the sides, failed to remind them that they were afloat and in an exposed anchorage.
"Heard from your sister recently?" enquired Barry, addressing the A. P. He tried to ask the question in a natural tone of voice, but the midshipmen were quick to perceive a deepening of the tan in the Lieutenant-Commander's weather-beaten face.
"Had a letter only this morning," replied Jolly; "a fairly long one, too. I suppose things have quieted down a bit after the rush. My sister's a double one, you know," he added, turning to Ross and his chum.
"A what?" asked Ross.
"She's my sister, and she's a nursing sister at a naval hospital," explained the A.P. "There's a very quaint little bit. I must read it to you."
He produced an envelope from his pocket.
"'You remember Marjory May?'" he read. "'She's had her wish. She joined here as a probationer, on the day after that terrible destroyer affair. We had most of the cases. One of the patients was a stoker, who had been knocked about by a shell exploding in a bunker (whatever that is—it sounds like golf). Marjorie had her first task—to wash him before the doctor could operate. I went to see how she was progressing, and found the poor girl on the verge of tears. 'Oh, sister!' she exclaimed; 'I've been scrubbing him for ten minutes, and I can't get him clean!' It was rather dull in the ward, so I switched on the light. Then I saw the cause of Marjory's distress. The poor stoker was a half-caste."
"By Jove!" ejaculated the A.P. as a particularly savage gust laid the ship well over. "It isn't half blowing!"
"Yes, my festive friend," agreed Barry; "it is! Fortunately you are not due back to-night. If you were it wouldn't signify, for I wouldn't order a boat away on a night like this. To-morrow, if it hasn't moderated—and the worst is yet to come—we'll weigh and stand up the Firth into smoother water."
There was a pause in the conversation. The din without was now terrific. One of the worst of the winter gales was approaching its climax—a furious nor'easter.
"Come in!" shouted Barry as a knock was heard at the cabin door.
"Wireless message, sir," announced one of the ship's boys.
"Very good," replied the Lieutenant-Commander. Then, after the messenger had backed out, he started to his feet.
"I say, you fellows!" he exclaimed. "Here's a pretty kettle of fish: 'Flag toHunbilker: Proceed to sea at once. Rendezvous Lat. 5° E., Long. 57° 30' N.' That means, whether you like it or whether you don't, you're bound for the Baltic."
Clad in their oilskins over their greatcoats, the two midshipmen accompanied Barry to the bridge. The A. P., on second thoughts, decided to remain below. He had a rooted objection to getting his glasses smothered in spray if it could be avoided.
Steam had been raised a week ago, when theHunbilkerleft Newcastle for Cromarty, so there was no delay on that account. Already the steam capstan was clanking dolorously as fathom after fathom of chain crept with seeming reluctance through the hawse-pipe.
It was a night. Towering seas, sweeping in from the exposed Moray Firth, surged madly into the more sheltered inlet where the dummy battleship strained at her cable. The air was thick with sleet. Overhead, black clouds scudded rapidly across the moon.
Even though the ship was partly under the lee of the projecting ground, the midshipmen knew that it would be hopeless to attempt to lower a boat. For good or ill they were bound to remain on board.
"Suppose it's all right," remarked Ross. "We may get a chance of doing something, far more so than if we were on board theCapella, now this submarine blockade fiasco is finished. At any rate it's not our fault we're here."
"But our good fortune," added Vernon. "Evidently there's a big affair coming off, though I can't quite see what this vessel's going to do in it."
For fifteen hours of darkness theHunbilkerplodded steadily onwards. No lights were shown, yet it was a known fact that at least thirty vessels of various types were converging upon the rendezvous.
Captain Barry never once quitted the bridge. Although his lofty post was constantly deluged by clouds of icy spray, and the weather side of the bridge-rail canvas was inches deep in sleet, he braved the elements through watch and watch, snatching a hasty meal of cocoa (which was cold by the time it reached him) and biscuits under the lee of the chart-house.
Day dawned at last. Ross and Vernon, who had gone below to snatch a few hours' sleep, came on deck to find theHunbilkerat the rendezvous. She lay in the midst of a fleet. There were the great battle-cruisers, Dreadnoughts and their replicas, light cruisers, and a galaxy of torpedo-boats—the latter swept from stem to stern by the waves.
Without any appreciable weakening of the Grand Fleet, this maritime force had been assembled for particular service—presumably in the Baltic, although no orders to that effect had yet been received.
All that short January day the fleet steamed slowly eastward, while signal flags fluttered incessantly. No hostile submarine put in an appearance. Either the Germans feared the swift destroyers that encircled the large vessels, or else they were in ignorance of the presence of the British within four hours' steaming of their shores.
It was not until night that theHunbilkerreceived her orders. She had to proceed in advance of the destroyers, and under cover of darkness pass through the Great Belt. Having done so, she was to be run aground on a shoal between the Danish island of Laaland and the Prussian island of Fehmern, the latter being within forty miles of the stronghold of the German Navy at Kiel.
Then she was to await developments. If attacked by submarines, the British destroyers would dash in; but what the British Admiral fondly hoped was that the hostile battleships or armoured cruisers would not be able to resist the temptation of sallying forth from Kiel to give the supposed Dreadnought hercoup de grâce. In this case our submarines would "chip in", and possibly the battle-cruisers might score with their deadly and accurate long-range salvoes.
"It's not so risky as it looks," commented Barry as he explained the tactics to the midshipmen. "You see, they can torpedo us as much as they like, and blow the dummy sides of the ship to bits piecemeal. We can't sink, since we'll be hard aground. We can't take fire—at least, it would be quite a job to get any part of her to burn without being able to keep the flames under control. Gunnery, of course, puts a different aspect on the subject. If the enemy start shelling us with their heavy guns, then the sooner we abandon ship and clear out the better, and leave our big cruisers to mop up the Huns."
Grey dawn was breaking when theHunbilker, having made the passage through the Great Belt, ran gently aground at the spot indicated in the Admiral's orders. Away in the sou'west, a glare in the sky that was rapidly fading with the growing morn indicated the search-lights of the Kiel defences. Eastwards, two huge grey shapes loomed ghost-like in the half-light. Whether they were British cruisers or decoys, or even German battleships, Ross could not determine.
TheHunbilkerlay with a slight list to starboard. All around her the sea was covered with drifting ice. An utter stillness brooded over everything. The silence was in keeping with the scene of desolation.
Suddenly the deafening blast of theHunbilker'ssiren rent the air. It was the prearranged signal that she was in readiness; it was also her challenge to the Kiel-tied German fleet.
Ten minutes later a lurid flash, followed by a dull booming noise, came from the nearmost of the two vessels Ross had previously noticed.
"Either mine or torpedo," remarked Barry casually. "It doesn't signify. They won't sink her in a hurry."
"What is she, sir?" asked Vernon.
"Our opposite number, theSnark," replied the Lieutenant-Commander. "See, she's steaming northwards, without any apparent injury. It will be our turn before very long."
At frequent intervals the siren shrieked, as if calling to the rest of the squadron for assistance. Then out of the rising mist, for with the break of day a thin pall of vapour rose from the ice-flecked water, leapt two German torpedo-boats.
"Port side, all hands!" roared Barry.
Officers and crew put the greatest possible distance between them and the side of the ship exposed to the hostile craft. Without slackening speed, the torpedo-boats described a sharp curve. Their officers must have wondered why they were not greeted by the stranded battleship's quick-firers. As they turned, two gleaming objects flopped ungracefully from their decks and disappeared with a splash beneath the surface. Each boat had fired a torpedo from her broadside tubes.
From the place where the midshipmen stood, they were not able to follow the track of the formidable missiles; but they had not long to wait. Both torpedoes struck almost simultaneously—one abreast of the for'ard dummy turret, the other fifty feet farther aft.
High in the air rose a column of water mingled with fragments of iron plating; while in their place of hiding the two lads were smothered with cork-dust and blackened cotton that had been blown from the space betwixt the outer and inner hulls.
"It's lucky for us that they didn't use their quick-firers," remarked Barry. "They would have pulverized us before our destroyers romped up. By Jove, Haye, that dog of yours looks as though he likes it! Hulloa! There you are!"
The Lieutenant-Commander pointed to the southward. A rift in the mist disclosed a two-masted, two-funnelled armoured cruiser about two miles off.
"ThePrinz Heinrichor theFürst Bismarck," declared Barry. "We've turned 'em out. Hope to goodness our little lot will be in time to snap them up. Unless I'm much mistaken, there are two more astern of her."
Almost as he spoke, a spurt of flame rent the dull sky. Then, to the accompaniment of a vivid flash and an ear-splitting detonation, a 5.9-inch shell burst against the for'ard dummy turret of theHunbilker.
When the smoke had cleared away, guns, turret, and conning-tower, together with a portion of the bridge, had vanished.
"All hands abandon ship!" ordered Barry, as a salvo of light projectiles flew round, over, and through the decoy.
It was quite time. Several men had been hit, since there was nothing to afford complete protection from the hail of shells. The difficulty was to find a boat that was seaworthy, since these suffered almost at once from the flying fragments of metal.
"Hurrah, sir!" shouted one of the men. "There are our destroyers."
He was right. Seven British destroyers were tearing through the water, intent upon giving the Germans the punishment that they had boasted to inflict upon the strafed Englishmen—a hussar stroke.
Instantly the galling fire ceased. The German cruiser had all her work cut out to endeavour to beat off her wasp-like antagonists.
TheHunbilkerwas doomed. In spite of elaborate precautions against fire, she was burning furiously. Her fo'c'sle was a mass of flames, generated by the intense heat of the first shell that had struck her. Smaller fires, too, had started in other parts of the ship.
But help was at hand. One of the covering destroyers had witnessed her plight. Adroitly manoeuvring, she came right alongside the burning ship.
"Jump, men!" shouted Barry.
There was no time to be lost. The danger of the flames communicating with the shells and war-heads on the destroyer's deck was to be taken into consideration.
"Come on, old man!" exclaimed Ross, as his chum looked anxiously about him.
"Where's Shrap?" asked Vernon. "He was here a minute ago."
In the confusion, occasioned by the rush of men to leap upon the destroyer, the dog had vanished.
Without a word Vernon ran towards the companion leading to the half-deck. Above the roar of the flames and the hissing of steam, he had heard the well-known bark of his pet.
"Silly ass!" muttered Ross; but he, too, followed his chum.
Wreaths of thin smoke were issuing from the companion as Ross gained the head of the ladder. Putting his muffler round his mouth, he groped his way down. 'Tween decks the air was full of smoke. He could hear Shrap's insistent bark, and Vernon's voice as, amidst fits of coughing, he called to his canine companion.
"Whatever is the matter with the brute?" thought Ross, as he fought his way along the half-deck.
A gaping hole in the ship's side admitted sufficient light to enable him to discern his comrade backing from one of the cabins. Shrap was preceding him, while Vernon was dragging something limp and heavy. It was the body of the luckless A. P.
Without a word, for the atmosphere was hot and choky, Ross bore a hand. Stumbling and slipping, the two lads bore their burden to the companion, and by dint of much exertion carried Jolly on deck.
"Is he dead?" asked Ross, after he had refilled his lungs with less smoke-laden air.
"I don't think so," said Vernon. "It was good old Shrap that found him."
The A. P. was below when the salvo from the German cruiser struck the ship. He had gone to the cabin temporarily allotted to him to obtain some small but cherished belonging. A fragment from one of the shells had inflicted a nasty scalp wound, stretching him senseless upon the floor.
Had it not been for the sheep-dog, whose sagacity made him recognize that Jolly was a friend of his master's, the A. P. would have ended his career in the burning hull of theHunbilker.
"Hurry up!" exclaimed Ross. "Let's get him aboard the destroyer."
Between them they carried the insensible officer across the quarter-deck, but as they reached the side abreast the wreckage of the superstructure they came to an abrupt halt.
The destroyer had sheered off and was out of sight.
"Now what's to be done?" asked Vernon, aghast at the latest turn of fortune.
They laid the A. P. on the deck and looked over the side. Still made fast to the falls was a whaler, with her keel ten feet above water. When the order had been given to abandon ship, the boat had been lowered, but the appearance of the destroyer had done away with the necessity of having to make use of her.
"Lower away!" ordered Ross.
Checking the descent by taking a turn round the cleats, the lads allowed the whaler to reach the water. To their satisfaction they found that she leaked but very little. Oars and crutches were already on board, together with mast and sail.
"Down you get," said Ross. "Let go the after disengaging gear, then stand by. I'll let Jolly down to you."
Vernon quickly swarmed down the falls, while his chum carried the A.P. to the now empty davit. Taking a few turns with his strong muffler round the chest of the unconscious man, Ross engaged the hook of the lower block, and slowly lowered him into Vernon's arms. Shrap followed in a similar manner, since the drop was too great for him to leap without risk of limb. Then Ross climbed down and gained the boat. He was not a minute too soon, for the flames were drawing nearer and the heat was becoming almost unbearable.
Placing Jolly in the stern-sheets, the lads stepped the mast and hoisted sail. Nothing else was in sight, although the rumble of heavy firing was still audible.
"I'll steer north," declared Ross, who had taken the helm, while Vernon attended to the A.P.'s ugly wound. "If we are not picked up by one of our own boats, we are almost bound to hit one of the Danish islands."
There was but little wind. What there was, blew from a couple of points abaft the beam, so that the little craft was able to lie comfortably upon her course.
At length Jolly opened his eyes. Somewhat to his companions' amusement his first words were:
"Dash it all! Where did I leave my glasses? Hulloa! I've been plugged. Where am I?"
He attempted to sit up, but promptly subsided upon the gratings in the stern-sheets, and in a very short time he began to talk incoherently, and finally dropped off into a fitful slumber.
The fog had now increased in density, so that it was no longer possible to see more than a hundred yards ahead. Several vessels moving at high speed passed within hailing distance, but no reply came to the lads' shouts.
"There's a hail!" exclaimed Vernon.
Again came the sound of a human voice. It was a call for aid, and was uttered in German.
"Steady!" cautioned Vernon, as Ross put the helm down. "We don't want to run alongside a cargo of Huns."
"There's only one, I should imagine," replied his chum. "At any rate we'll have a look. If there are too many, we'll sheer off."
Guided by the repeated calls for assistance, the midshipmen came in sight of a disabled boat. It had been holed, and was kept afloat only by some of its air-tanks which had escaped damage. The gunwales, jagged by shell-fire, were showing only a few inches above the water. The stern was almost awash, but the bows rose sufficiently high for the forefoot to be seen. Crouching on the for'ard thwart was a German officer. He was bareheaded. The collar of his greatcoat was turned up. His face was blanched by the intense cold. As the whaler approached and he saw that it was a British one, he held up his hands in token of surrender.
Dropping to leeward, Ross luffed smartly. The whaler lost way almost alongside the waterlogged boat.
Awkwardly the German clambered over the gunwale, for his limbs were numbed. Then, as soon as he was safely on board, he drew a revolver from the pocket of his greatcoat and fired twice in quick succession.
Ross saw his chum throw up his arms and pitch across the centre thwart. The next instant he felt a stinging pain in his shoulder, as if it were pierced by a red-hot needle.
"The brute has plugged me!" was the thought that flashed through his mind, as he subsided heavily upon the grating by the side of the A. P.
He was still conscious, although everything seemed misty. Up to a certain point he remembered exactly what happened, for with a sudden spring Shrap flew at the treacherous Teuton's throat.
Again and again the German fired, wildly and in the air, for the sheep-dog had him fixed in his unyielding jaws, shaking the fellow like a rat. Unable to move a limb, Ross remained conscious until the issue was decided and victory rested with the devoted Shrap; then his head dropped upon his chest and everything became a blank.
Ross Trefusis recovered consciousness to find himself in hospital on the East coast. In the next cot was Jolly, cutting a sorry figure with his head swathed in surgical bandages. Vernon was in an adjoining ward, making a promising recovery from the wound caused by the cowardly German's bullet that had passed between his ribs, fortunately just missing his lungs.
It was not until a week later that Ross heard of the manner of his rescue. The whaler had been picked up by a destroyer. In it they found the three wounded British officers, and a dead German with his throat fearfully lacerated. Not only had Shrap saved the situation, but he had helped still further to save his master's life, for it was owing to the warmth of the dog's body that Vernon was saved from death by exposure.
One of the first of visitors to Ross's bedside was John Barry, now Commander Barry, R.N.R., D.S.O.
"And how did the scrap come off?" asked Ross.
"Fairly well," replied the Commander. "We bagged a cruiser and a couple of destroyers. The oldHunbilkerjustified her existence, you see."
"I'm afraid Haye and I are out of the running," remarked Ross disconsolately.
"Not a bit of it," replied Barry in his breezy way. "Not a bit of it. You'll both be as fit as fiddles in a couple of months. The Navy's pushing on with the job all right, Ross, but it's slow and sure. You'll be at it again long before the end."
Ross gave a sigh of satisfaction.
"Sounds promising, sir, doesn't it?" he exclaimed.