CHAPTER XVII
The Sandinsel Tunnel
AFTER their recapture Hamerton and Detroit were shut up in separatecells, the former in the same place as before, while the American waslodged in a disused casemate of the Bucket Horn Battery.
Their captors left nothing undone to guarantee the safety of theprisoners. Hamerton's cell had been recemented over the originalfloor to a depth of four inches of solid concrete. The bars of hiswindow had been removed and others of considerably greater thicknesssecurely let into the stonework. An observation hole had been cut inthe doorway, and the jailers were given instructions to visit theprisoners' cells every two hours, day and night.
Every few hours wireless messages came from Torpedo-boat-destroyerS174. They brought slight consolation to Von Wittelsbach's peace ofmind. The long-sought-for yacht still remained alongside the quay atDelfzyl.
Then came the news that an English newspaper had published theinformation that the spies were Sub-Lieutenant John Hamerton andOswald Detroit, an American subject.
Von Wittelsbach was for the time being speechless with rage andmortification. He anticipated the order to proceed to Berlin to givean explanation, and ere he set out he gave instructions that theprisoners should be removed to Sandinsel.
It was late at night when a file of marines entered Hamerton's cell.The sergeant in charge roughly ordered him to get up and dress.Although still weak with the effects of his brief spell of liberty,the Sub was rapidly recovering. Two days' rest was sufficient tobanish the pain in his neck caused by his involuntary dive into thesecret gunpit of the Breit Horn battery. His bruised fingers gave himconsiderable inconvenience, so that he took a long time over hisdressing operations.
"Hasten," ordered the sergeant more than once, but Hamerton paidscant heed. He was resolved not to retard the healing of his hand byunnecessary haste, since he might even yet have an opportunity ofeluding his captors.
The fragments of the prepared cotton from the fireproof Zeppelin hestill retained in his shoes, but the steel spike which had served himso well had been discovered and taken away by his jailers soon afterhis recapture.
"Roll your blankets," ordered the non-commissioned officer gruffly.You are to take them with you."
"Evidently I am off on a long journey," thought the Sub at this stageof the proceedings. "What's up now, I wonder? Judging by theelaborate alterations they have made to my quarters I thought theymeant to keep me here for a very long time."
"March!" ordered the sergeant, pointing to the door. "No tricks,mind. Our rifles are loaded."
Along the corridor, down the steps, and out into the open the file ofmarines conducted their prisoner. Then the gates in the outer wallwere thrown open, and the Sub found himself in the street.
Turning sharp to the left the party marched along the broad, evenroad leading towards the Zeppelin station. It did not take them longto arrive at the barbed-wire fence. Hamerton could not helpcontrasting the time it took with the tedious, cautious crawl overthat very ground only a few nights before.
Here the marines were challenged by a sentry. The sergeant advanced,whispered the password, and received permission to proceed.
A large extent of the fence had been levelled, and over the barbedwire were placed the metal coverings Hamerton had noticed during histour of investigation.
Down the familiar incline the Sub was hurried, till the marineshalted within twenty yards of the circular expanse out of whichopened the caves for the giant aircraft.
Everything was now in darkness, but by the presence of numbers ofsoldiers and seamen Hamerton concluded that one of the Zeppelins wasabout to be hauled out for a nocturnal flight. He wondered vaguely ifhe were to be an involuntary passenger.
A sliding door opened in the cliff, revealing a long passage lit atregular intervals with electric incandescent lights. A waft of hot,moist air greeted the Sub as he entered.
"By the right--march!" ordered the sergeant.
The tunnel was only wide enough to admit of two men walking abreast.Along the ground ran a narrow-gauge tram line. At every twenty-fiveyards or thereabouts was a niche, intended as a refuge for footpassengers upon the approach of any rolling stock. For the firsthundred yards the tunnel was on the downgrade, then it was horizontalin direction. Overhead, and above the hollow tramp of his escort, theSub could hear a dull, muffled roar: it was the sea. The tunnel,then, was passing under a portion of North Haven.
Hamerton calculated that he had gone quite a mile through the tunnelere the upward gradient commenced. One hundred and twenty paces moreand the prisoner and his escort were confronted by a steel door. Oneither side was a deep recess. In one of them stood a portly soldierin the uniform of the fortress artillery. Apparently he had alreadyreceived his instructions, for, with a familiar nod to thenon-commissioned officer in charge of the party, he unlocked androlled back the sliding door.
For half a minute or so Hamerton could see nothing. The suddentransition from the well-lighted submarine tunnel to the blackness ofthe night temporarily deprived him of his sense of sight.
He gradually became aware that he was in a stone gallery open to theheavens, but additionally protected by mounds of earth and sand piledwell above the level of the enclosing walls. To bind the soil, thornbushes had been planted. These also served to screen the gallery fromobservation, while as a protection from shell-fire traverses had beenprovided.
Just above the summit of one part of the mound Hamerton could see aquaintly-shaped iron tower, the light from which was occulted everythree seconds.
Now he knew exactly where he was. The opening of the tunnel was abouta hundred yards north-west of the North Beacon of Sandinsel. Wherethe latest British Admiralty chart showed an expanse of sand coveredat high water, his sense of vision told him that a vast extent ofartificial ground had risen from the sea.
Another thing struck him in a very forcible manner: on either side ofthe gallery were hung rectangular steel plates, measuring roughly tenfeet by six, and painted in a medley of colours. It was like theso-called "invisible" colouring on the guns and gun-shields ofBritish fortifications, the idea being that at a distance the varioushues would blend and form a neutral tint. But in this instance themetal plates were hinged at the top edge. They could be raised bymeans of levers, and thus form a V-shaped covering to the gallery,presumably as a protection from high-angle fire or from explosivesdropped from a hostile airship.
But Hamerton had little leisure to observe these things. The sergeantwaited until he had received the password for the Sandinsel portionof the fortress, and then gave the order to march.
The enclosed way seemed interminable. For one thing, it never ran ina straight line for more than twenty yards at one time. Here andthere other galleries branched both to left and right--the majorityto the right. In places huge armoured bridges crossed the concealedway. On one a travelling crane, electrically propelled, was in theact of crossing.
The whole place seemed alive, judging by the sounds. The Sub couldhear the sharp rattle of pneumatic riveters, the peculiar scroop ofelectric drills, and the thud of ponderous hammers, punctuated by thedeafening hiss of compressed air. From a greater distance came themonotonous grinding sounds of a fleet of dredgers at work. There wasno mistaking that: Hamerton had seen and heard dredgers at work inthe principal naval ports at home. The groaning, rasping noise as theheavily-laden buckets come jerkily up the "ladder", the succession ofdull thuds as bucket after bucket throws its contents of mud, sand,and larger stones down the shoot into the hopper, could not bemistaken for anything else.
Hamerton was puzzled. A fleet of dredgers--or even a solitaryone--could be heard miles off. Yet during his enforced detention atHeligoland he had never heard the faintest sound that suggestedoperations of that nature.
"Well, it's either one of two things," he thought. "Either the cliffsof Heligoland possess strange acoustic properties, and deflect thesound entirely, or else these vessels have started work to-night forthe first time--at least, since I set foot
upon the island."
His musings were cut short by his escort coming to an abrupt haltoutside a postern. Here, in front of the neutral-grey-colouredsentry-box--which had recently superseded the parti-coloured diagonallines for which the German military authorities had apredilection--stood a sentinel with his bayonet at the "ready".
Even when the sergeant of the escort gave the password he was notpermitted to pass the gateway until the rest of the corporal's guardhad been turned out. Those responsible for the safety of the WestKalbertan Battery had evidently made up their minds to take nochances.
Hamerton saw very little of the interior of the fort that had onlyrecently been constructed on foundations formed of ferro-concretepiles sunk twenty feet through the sand and another thirty feet inthe stiff clay that composed the subsoil.
The West Kalbertan Battery had been well placed. Its armament,consisting of six fifteen-inch guns and a number of lightquick-firers, commanded the only approach to North Haven from thenorth. It was one of a chain of six batteries--the others being theEast Kalbertan, the Krid Brunnen, the D?ne, the Aar de Brunnen, andthe Sud Sandinsel--that were supposed to render Sandinselimpregnable. It was this heavy fortifying of the former sandbank thatcaused the German engineers to mount nearly all their heavy guns onHeligoland on the south-west side.
Then, although the guns of Heligoland commanded the approaches to theElbe and the Weser, the batteries of Sandinsel were actually the keyof the position. Whoever was master of Sandinsel was master ofHeligoland.
Hamerton was lodged in the upper story of a building within the fortwhich was mainly devoted to non-combustible stores. The walls werenot so thick as those of his former prison, the floors were planked,while the ceiling was of ordinary plaster. The solitary window wasfairly large, glazed, and protected by iron bars that had apparentlyonly been placed in position a few hours before, for the cement wasbarely dry.
Almost immediately on the departure of the escort a lieutenant,accompanied by two non-commissioned officers, entered the room. Theofficer was a fair-haired youth of about twenty. His rounded featuresand blue eyes gave him almost a girlish appearance, which hisincipient moustache failed to destroy.
"Ach! Herr Smidt," he began in tolerable English, "I hope you give notrouble. You cannot escape you out of here--you take my word. If notrouble, then perhaps we allow you insignificant privileges. So."
The Sub looked at the speaker. The German officer seemed a decentlittle chap, he decided.
"I had a rough time of it when I broke out of prison before," hereplied. "Perhaps I may not have the opportunity or the inclinationto do so, especially as I am promised certain privileges if I behave.But, Herr Lieutenant, let me inform you that I do not answer to thename of Smith."
The lieutenant smiled and tapped his forehead in a significantmanner. The act irritated Hamerton almost beyond endurance, but thethought suddenly struck him that perhaps after all the German reallythought he had to deal with a prisoner whose brain had becomeaffected.
"No; my name is not Smith," continued the Sub earnestly. "I'mHamerton, an officer of the British Navy. Don't you believe me?"
The German shook his head.
"I tell you this," he said. "Herr Hamerton sailed from here in hisyacht. He was lost at sea; his comrade also. You will do yourself nogood if you acclaim yourself as Herr Hamerton. Smidt you are, and Ibelieve you know it. Now be good, and no trouble give."
With that the lieutenant took his departure, and Hamerton was left inthe dark and to his own resources. There was nothing further for himto do at present, he reflected; so, unstrapping his blankets, heturned in and was soon fast asleep.
When he awoke the sun was shining brightly, and by its position heknew that his window faced north-east. He had barely completed histoilet when his breakfast was brought in.
"Evidently they mean to treat me better than they did at Heligoland,"he reflected, as he looked at the larger cup of coffee, the longroll, a pat of butter, and a couple of fried mackerel. "This seemstoo good to last."
He set to with a will, for he had a healthy appetite. As he ate hecould not help thinking of his conversation with the Germanlieutenant. The man seemed perfectly open about the matter, as if hereally believed the prisoner was under a hallucination.
Then his thoughts turned to Detroit. What had they done with him? Hadhe been brought to Sandinsel, or was he still in solitary confinementin Heligoland?
His meal ended, Hamerton crossed over to the window. The outlook wasnot particularly extensive. Immediately below was a kind ofcourtyard, with triple lines crossing it in several directions. Thissystem enabled heavy wagons to be run over the broad gauge, andlighter trucks to use one of the outer rails and the intermediateone.
The outer space was bounded by the inner part of thefortifications--an almost blank wall pierced by a few doorways andapertures for ventilation.
Hamerton could not see over the wall, but he knew by the presence ofa screen of furze and gorse that the face of the fortifications wascomposed of earth and sand, the best material for minimizing theeffects of heavy projectiles.
There his range of vision ended, save for the expanse of blue skyoverhead. He might sit at the window for days at a stretch and stillsee nothing of a confidential nature. Save for an occasionalfatigue-party and the passing of a carefully-covered-in train oftrucks drawn by electric tractors, the courtyard was deserted.Everything in connection with the actual working of the guns wasconcealed under the wide mound of earth and sand on the other side ofthat stone wall.
"A truly cheerful prospect," thought the Sub. "To gaze upon thisoutlook is a rare intellectual treat. I must make the best of it, Isuppose. It is only in old romances that the governor's daughter, orat least the jailer's daughter, takes compassion upon the haplesscaptive, provides him with a safe disguise, collars the keys from herparent, and releases the object of her affections. This fortress iscontrolled by men of blood and iron. Sentiment and romance find noplace in this modern German Gibraltar. Well, it's no use moping I'llhave a look round the room."
It did not take Hamerton long to make a careful examination of theinterior of his prison. With a steel tool in his possession he wouldbe able to cut his way out with far less exertion than he had tospend on his previous attempt. The window was but fifteen feet fromthe ground; with his strength he felt confident that he could bendthe long iron bars sufficiently to allow him to squeeze through.Failing that, five minutes of uninterrupted work would be enough forhim to knock a hole in the plastered ceiling and make his escape onto the roof. But to what purpose?
He was surrounded by the formidable walls of the West KalbertanBattery, and, even should he be able to scale the ramparts and evadethe sentries, there was not a place of shelter in the whole ofSandinsel where he could hope to remain hidden for even an hour.
"The Monte Cristo wheeze is played out," he mused. "It might bepossible to knock down the jailer and put on his clothes, if it werenot for the fact that there are always two men waiting outside.Besides, there is the password, which I haven't got. That suggestionis no good. I remember reading of an authentic case of a man in adebtor's jail getting hold of a strip of raw liver and laying itacross his throat. The jailer, thinking his prisoner had put an endto himself, ran out of the cell, and in his fright forgot to closeand lock the door. The prisoner made good his escape. That was a neattrick; but then that was not within the walls of a modern fortress.It's a case of wait and see, only with more of the waiting andconsiderably less of the seeing, I fancy."
Yet he did not fall a victim to black despair. He was eminently of avery sanguine disposition, and, recognizing the truth of the sayingthat "while there's life there's hope", he made up his mind to keepbodily fit, so as to be able to take full advantage of any chancethat fortune might throw in his way.
The Sub looked about him for some object to practise with. The chaircaught his attention. It was a solid oak one with a rush bottom, justthe thing to use as a bar bell and keep his muscles pliant.
His still ten
der fingers caused him some misgiving, but with verylittle effort he raised the chair above his head. To his greatdelight he found that the stiffness of his neck and shoulders washardly noticeable.
Up and down he swung the chair. For one thing, it killed time; italso kept him in training. He revelled in the exertion.
Suddenly the door opened, and the soldier detailed to act as hisjailer entered. Hamerton faced round, his improvised gymnasticapparatus still poised above his head.
With a yell the fellow dropped the earthenware basin on the floor andbacked hurriedly out of the door, shouting at the top of his voicethat the Englishman had gone mad.
A picket was hastily told off, and, accompanied by the fair-hairedlieutenant and a surgeon, the soldiers entered the Sub's room, tofind Hamerton calmly sitting on the chair.
"Is this the way you promise to behave?" questioned the lieutenant."What have you done?"
"I was taking exercise," replied Hamerton.
"Exercise? Mein Gott, your form of exercise very remarkable is, HerrSmidt. Now you be sensible. I give you one more chance. If you behavenot, then I report to Herr Major Kohn, and you will be put in farworse place."
The lieutenant and the surgeon walked out of the room, followed bythe men; but half an hour later another jailer appeared with a pileof books, "for the use of Herr Smidt, with the compliments ofLieutenant Schaffer."