CHAPTER II

  Through the Fog

  "A GERMAN man-of-war!" exclaimed Detroit.

  "Yes, one of the 'Deutschland' class," added Hamerton, who at thefirst report had followed his companion on deck. He recognized thebattleship by her three telescopic funnels as belonging to a typeimmediately preceding the first of the Kaiser's Dreadnoughts.Although her principal armament consisted of only four eleven-inchand fourteen six-inch guns, she was not an antagonist to be despised.

  A bugle blared and the firing suddenly ceased.

  "She's engaged in manoeuvres," continued the Sub. "Those destroyerswe saw are evidently about to attack her, and in the fog she mistookus for one of them."

  "Is that likely?" asked Oswald.

  "Rather. I know what it is to be on the _qui vive_. Officers and menare bound to get jumpy, and a dinghy might easily be mistaken for atorpedo boat. Remember the case of the Russian Baltic Fleet and ourtrawlers in the North Sea some years ago. But now's our chance to getrid of the poor fellow we picked up. Hand me the Code Flag and letterH."

  Deftly Hamerton toggled the flags, signifying "Important; I wish tocommunicate", to the halyards, and hoisted them to the peak.

  The German battleship was now less than four hundred yards to leewardand moving slowly through the water. At any moment she might beswallowed up in the fog, which showed signs of increasing in density.

  "There's the reply," exclaimed Detroit, as two flags fluttered fromthe after-mast of the battleship.

  "'I F,'" announced the Sub, placing his binoculars on the seat andseizing the codebook. "The rotters! They decline to hold anycommunication. There, she's off! Steady on the helm, old man! It'stime I saw to those rashers."

  Once more Hamerton entered the cabin. The rescued man was still lyingon the floor, staring vacantly at the skylight.

  "Are you better?" asked the Sub in as good German as he could muster.His command of foreign languages, like that of the majority ofBritish officers, was poor. His German in particular was execrable.

  "Ja," answered the man, without removing his gaze from the skylight.The reply was purely mechanical, for Hamerton could see that thefellow was not in full possession of his faculties.

  "He'll recover all in good time," soliloquized Hamerton as he madehis way to the fo'c'sle. "A glass of brandy and water will dowonders. Hallo! What's this?"

  For the young officer had made the disconcerting discovery that inthe "wash" of the destroyers the frying-pan had jumped off the stove,and four rashers lay stuck to the fo'c'sle floor in their own fat,whilst rivulets of dried grease had traced fancy patterns on thesides of the lockers and over a bundle of spare sails. To completethe disorder, a can of paraffin and a tin full of soda had come intoviolent contact, with the result that the contents of both gaveadditional flavour to the stranded rashers. But for this, Hamertonmight have replaced the bacon in the frying-pan, reflecting that muchof the pleasure of yachting consists in tolerating discomforts. Hedrew the line at rashers _? la_ soda and paraffin.

  "You'll have to whistle for hot grub, Detroit," he called out."There's a most unholy mess for'ard. Hot coca and biscuits are thebest I can do."

  Detroit's reply was to give a tremendous salute upon the foghorn, anaction that brought the Sub on deck.

  "Destroyers are coming back," announced the American, "and the fog isas thick as ever it has been. We've tumbled into a regular hornet'snest of torpedo craft."

  Five minutes later the sharp rattle of quick-firers announced thatthe battleship had been attacked by the destroyers, a form ofpractice that is regularly gone through by the Kaiser's ships. Thenall was quiet.

  Two more hours sped. The _Diomeda_ still maintained her course,slipping through the fog-enshrouded water at a bare four knots.

  The German sailor, having been given a "stiff peg", was able to situp. Beyond feeling stiff and bruised by reason of his fall, he waslittle the worse for his immersion, and, upon being questioned, gavehis replies in an intelligent and straightforward manner.

  His name, he said, was Hans Pfeil. His rank corresponded to that ofChief Yeoman of Signals in the British navy. His ship was S167, oneof, the most powerful of the Elbing-built destroyers, and belongingto the Second Division of the Borkum flotilla. The boats had leftBorkum at midnight to deliver an attack upon the battleship_Hannover_.

  "What was the approximate position of the division when you felloverboard?" asked Hamerton.

  "Twenty miles due west of the Borkum Flat lightship."

  The Sub whistled.

  "We're out in our dead reckoning, Detroit," said he. "I thought we'dleft the lightship well on our starboard quarter. If this man's storyis correct--and I have no reason to believe otherwise--we ought tobe within hearing distance of the lightship. This fog is the mostpersistent I have ever experienced."

  "We will soon be in the way of steamship traffic in and out of theElbe and Weser."

  "Or else piled up on one of those treacherous sandbanks. I'll seewhat the _North Sea Pilot_ says. Ah! Here we are: 'Borkum Riff, orFlat; syren in fog, one blast of five seconds every minute'. That'swhat we have to listen for, old man."

  Returning to the cabin, Hamerton resumed his conversation with Hans.The seaman was profuse in his expressions of gratitude, for herealized that but for Detroit's plucky act he would be lying in thebed of the North Sea, twenty fathoms deep, instead of finding himselfin the cabin of the _Diomeda_. He knew Kiel well, for not only had hebeen stationed there, but before he was called up for sea-service inthe imperial navy he had been a fisherman at Flensburg, a town in theprovince of Schleswig. Thus he was able to give his benefactor muchvaluable information concerning the yacht anchorage in theneighbourhood of Kiel Bay.

  The man was evidently troubled. His sense of duty, fostered by thecast-iron discipline of the German navy, prompted him to reporthimself as soon as practicable, and Hamerton, nowise loath torecognize a praiseworthy trait in Hans Pfeil's character, promised totranship him to the first steamship bound either for Hamburg orBremen.

  "There's the Borkum Riff," announced Detroit.

  "You're right," assented the Sub, after listening till the lightshipagain gave its warning note; "but goodness only knows the directionwhence the sound comes. Seems as if it's on our port bow."

  "Starboard, I think," remarked his companion.

  "The fog's not only trying to the sight, but to the sense of hearingas well. We'll carry on, and trust to luck. It's my trick at the helmnow, my boy."

  For another hour the _Diomeda_ hung on her course. The syren of thelightship sounded louder and louder, while the hooters of severalvessels, adding to the din, betokened the fact that the yacht wascrossing one of the great steamship routes.

  Then, with the same sort of suddenness that characterized theprevious temporary dispersal, the fog cleared, revealing a large redvessel with three masts. On her fore- and mizen-masts were blackglobes, with a pyramid-shaped cage on the main, while any doubts asto her identity were set at rest by the words "Borkum Riff" on theside showing towards the yacht.

  Several of the lightship's crew gazed stolidly at the unfamiliar rigof the _Diomeda_, and, in response to a wave of Hamerton's arm,gravely raised their caps.

  Ten minutes later the long-sought-for sea mark was lost to sight.

  Hamerton missed an opportunity. He could have signalled or hailed thelightship with the news that he had rescued a sailor from a Germandestroyer, The intelligence would then have been sent by wireless tothe mainland. But he did not, and subsequent events brought home tohim the error he had made in omitting to do so.

  "All plain sailing now," he remarked. "Keep as we are; we'll soonpick up the Norderney Gat lightship, and then the Elbe. I'm jollyglad we made Borkum Flat light-vessel, for, as I said before, I've nowish to find myself amidst the sandbanks to leeward."

  "The Germans are fortifying Borkum very heavily, I believe," saidDetroit. "In fact, they are turning the whole of the Frisian Islandsthat belong to them into fortresses. Guess they'll take the rest ofthe
islands as well before long. John Bull is asleep, I guess, or hewould demand an explanation."

  "John Bull sleeps with one eye open, old man. Take my word for it.Besides, the Germans are at perfect liberty to defend their coasts."

  "Admitted; but it is not a question of defence. These naval bases arealso for offence, and, what is more, they exist solely for a torpedoraid on British ports when 'The Day', as they call it, comes. Therecan only be one predominant race in the world, and that ought to bethe Anglo-Saxon."

  "Because you are a member of our branch of the family."

  "Guess you've hit it, Hamerton. Imagine an offensive and defensivealliance between Great Britain and the United States! Nothing couldstand against it. Other European and Asiatic countries, realizing theimpossibility of continuing in the race for world supremacy, wouldclimb down. Reduction of armaments would follow automatically, and weshould be entering into a state that the most ardent delegate to theConference at The Hague never dreamt of."

  "Until Great Britain and the United States quarrelled," saidHamerton.

  "And if they did they would soon patch matters up, like two children.Our old axiom, 'Blood is thicker than water', still holds good, andwill do so till the end of time. That's why it licks me to understandwhy Great Britain contracted that alliance with Japan."

  "My dear Detroit," exclaimed the Sub deprecatingly, "you must allowthat the powers that be are better able to decide these matters thanyou or I. For my part, as an officer of the Royal Navy, I must takethings as they are, unquestioning and loyally."

  "Yet you must have your own views on the subject?"

  Hamerton shrugged his shoulders.

  "See what a rotten mess of things has resulted," continued Detroit."You may not admit it, but I reckon in your innermost mind you do.Here's the U.S.A. on the verge of a quarrel with Japan over theyellow immigration question. Great Britain is forced to increase hernaval expenditure out of all proportion to the rest of the proceedsof taxation, in order to maintain a superiority over Germany'srapidly growing navy. Your Two-Power Standard was knocked on the headyears ago. Yet, because of a sort of sentimental yearning on the partof your diplomatists towards Japan, there is a peril of adisagreement between the two great Anglo-Saxon races, whereas theyshould be shoulder to shoulder."

  "Then where does France come in?" asked the Sub, unconsciouslywarming to the discussion. "We have an understanding with her."

  "With all due respect to your Gallic neighbours, friend, France willhave all her work cut out to attend to Austria and Italy, who willassuredly side with Germany."

  "And Russia?"

  "Ah! There you have a totally different case. Russia, after theordeal of her disastrous struggle with Japan, is gradually but surelyregaining her position as a naval and military power. In the nearfuture she hopes to see a solid, compact Slav Empire extending fromthe Arctic Ocean to Cape Matapan. Then, profiting by her experiences,she will again meet Japan but not until the Anglo-Japanese allianceis dissolved. Once these aims are realized, Russia will stand aloofin all European disputes until the Triple Alliance is weakened eitherby victory or defeat. Since the barren Steppes of Siberia cannotsupport her surplus population, she must find another outlet, andthat will be west-wards, as soon as she is strong enough to measureweapons successfully with Germany, for the Slavs and the Teutonsnever will hit it off together."

  "You foresee drastic changes on the face of the map of Europe?"

  "Of the whole world, I guess."

  "Plenty of opportunity to consider the situation when the timecomes," said Hamerton, with true British indifference. "Meanwhile,here we are in the North Sea, with a thick fog hanging about, and alee shore not many miles away. This situation is more important to methan the whole of the international complications put together."

  "I hope you'll always have cause to think so," added Detroit.

 
Percy F. Westerman's Novels