Under the White Ensign: A Naval Story of the Great War

  CHAPTER XXII

  The Fouled Propellers

  FOR the next few days the chums heard nothing more of the spy and hisdisguised tracker, nor did they deem it wise to make enquiries. Itwas not until the end of the week that news circulated rapidlythrough the native quarter to the effect that a Greek and an Arab,arrested by order of the Kafir authorities, had broken out of theirplace of detention. Europeans "not in the know" heard the same story.Vaguely they wondered how such an escape could be effected, in theface of the strict measures taken for the safe custody of malefactorsand criminals. And when Osborne and Webb were told of the incidentthey glanced at each other in a way that denoted that they were notat all surprised.

  "We'll hear more about Georgeos Hymettus," declared Webb.

  One morning orders were received for the surviving members of theill-fated _Portchester Castle's_ ship's company to hold themselves inreadiness for embarkation on the transport _Sinai_, which was aboutto sail for Malta.

  Dacres and Major Fane had already bidden farewell to their formercompanions in peril. They had left a few days after the _Paradox_arrived at Port Said--the former for England, the Major, with hisleave cancelled at his own request, to resume duty with a Soudanesebattalion somewhere in the vicinity of Khartoum.

  "Looks like getting into harness again," remarked the Sub on hearingthe news. "Well, I, for one, am not sorry. Things are a bit slow outhere, in spite of our little encounter with the spy. And I'm afraidwe didn't shine over that."

  "A common failing with fellows who take on the amateur-detectivebusiness," commented Osborne, who was never reticent in owning up tothe errors for which he was responsible. "However, that's over anddone with," he added cheerfully. "A little bird whispered to me thatwe're to be sent to the Grecian Archipelago. From all accountsthere's going to be trouble with the so-called Royalist section ofthe Greek nation. The rotten way in which these fellows are carryingon is enough to make any self-respecting Greek of ancient historyliterally squirm in his grave. There's only one thing, in my opinion,that prevents Tino's army from marching northwards from Athens, andtaking the Allied forces at Salonika in the rear."

  "And what's that?" enquired Webb.

  "The Navy--the British and French fleets," replied the Lieutenant."With Athens and Corinth under the guns of the fleet, and a sternreminder that 'He who is not for us is against us', thedouble-dealing Tino will have to tread warily."

  Early on the following day the depleted ship's company of the_Portchester Castle_ boarded the vessel that was to take them toMalta. Under her quarter-deck awnings Osborne and Webb were pacing upand down, looking, without any qualms of regret, at the sun-bakedtown and port of Alexandria.

  At that moment a small coasting steamer, flying the Greek mercantileensign, fussily slipped from the quay-side and steamed seawards.

  "She's bound for Crete with stores for the Venezelists," remarkedOsborne. "I saw her departure mentioned in yesterday's orders."

  The Lieutenant was right, up to a certain point. Had he known exactlythe nature of the vessel's cargo, he might have evinced far greaterinterest in her; for, stowed away in the dark and ill-ventilatedfore-hold, was the spy Hymettus.

  On his escape from prison--a feat rendered comparatively easy by theconnivance of the authorities--he decided that the wireless businesswas far too risky--at least for the present. He had also developed asense of distrust against his supposed Arab accomplice,notwithstanding the active aid given him by the latter in shaking offthe bonds of captivity. He had, therefore, succeeded in giving MajorFerriter the slip, and, by his intimate knowledge of the nativequarter of Alexandria, had been able to secrete himself untilarrangements were made for him to stow himself away on board theGreek tramp.

  The _Sinai's_ run from Alexandria to Valetta was brief anduneventful. There was not even a false alarm of the appearance of aU-boat's periscopes. For the present, at least, German submarines hadbeen effectually "warned off" the Egyptian coast; yet, as there waslikely to be a fresh outburst on the part of these modern pirates,the authorities were strenuous in their efforts to anticipate thenext display of maritime frightfulness.

  "By Jove, what luck!" ejaculated Osborne soon after the _Sinai_ hadmoored to a buoy in the Grand Harbour. "I've got a command, Webb, myboy. They've given me 0916."

  "Good luck, old man!" replied Webb heartily; then with a tinge ofregret: "I suppose it means that we won't see much of each other infuture."

  "Wrong again, my festive," said Osborne. "You've been appointed tothe same packet."

  "That's good," declared the Sub. "Any idea what she's like?"

  "Yes; a Yankee-built, sixty-footer motor-patrol boat. You know thetype well enough: V-sectioned with flush deck, and a smallchart-house and steering platform for'ard. She's a flier, from allaccounts. Goes twenty-six knots with her three eight-cylindered160-horse-power motors. She carries two officers and a crew of six."

  "Sounds promising," remarked Webb. "Wonder where our cruising groundwill be?"

  "In and around the Archipelago," replied the Lieutenant. "Part of ourduties is, I believe, to dance attendance upon the sea-plane carrier,_Fleetwing_. She's a stranger to me, but I dare say we'll both makeher acquaintance before very long. Well, buck up, and get ashore.Here's a tender coming alongside. We've quite enough to do beforeMonday."

  With the commissioning of 0916, Osborne for the first time assumedfull responsibility as the skipper of a command. Used, since hisentry into the Merchant Service, to the huge bulk of a steamer, hemight have found the quick, lively motion of the sixty-footerdecidedly awkward, had it not been for his previous experiences onboard an eight-ton yacht. Nevertheless the handling of a twenty-sixknotter, especially in a crowded harbour, required considerable skillcombined with a steady nerve.

  "It's the first few hours that count," confided the Lieutenant to hissubordinate and chum Webb, as the patrol-boat prepared to cast offfor a preliminary run into the open water of the Mediterranean. "Iremember a chief officer in the Royal British and Pacific--a fellowwith forty years' experience. His Company gave him command of one oftheir tugs--a sort of comfortable home billet to fill in the rest ofhis time. Hang it if he didn't run full tilt into a caisson the veryfirst trip, battered the face of the caisson like an old tin can, andbuckled the bows of the tug till they resembled a concertina! Thatlittle bust-up cost the Company a cool ten thousand pounds."

  Fully equipped with stores, provisions, and munitions, and carryingsix hundred gallons of petrol, No. 0916 stole cautiously towards themouth of the harbour. Not until St. Elmo Point was broad on the portquarter did Osborne give the order for full speed ahead.

  With a jerk the powerfully engined craft leapt forward. It gave Webbthe sensation of being on a lift that had been started too suddenly.With the spray flying in silvery cascades on either side of herknife-like bow, the patrol-boat cut through the water at a dizzyspeed, yet docile to the touch of the helmsman's hand.

  Suddenly a nerve-racking jar shook the frail craft. Her starboardpropeller was still running normally, tending to thrust her head toport, while the port propeller, having struck some wreckage, had been"brought up", stopping the motor almost dead.

  "Fouled something, by Jove!" ejaculated Osborne. "Be sharp there,Wilkins. See if there's anything round the blades. Hope to goodnessthey're not 'stripped'."

  "No fear of that, sir," replied the man addressed. "The blades haveheld, or the motor would have started to race. I see it, sir," headded, as he leant over the broad transome and peered into the limpidwater. "It's a length of rotten grass rope round the boss as tight asa chunk of metal."

  The Lieutenant also surveyed the cause of the mishap. Round and roundthe port propeller, and "laid" as evenly as rope round a drum, was alength of two-inch grass line. About twenty feet of this stilltrailed astern, terminating in a piece of painted wood.

  "Some boat's old mooring broken adrift," commented Osborne. "Horriblenuisance, to say the least of it."

  "We can run back with the starboard engine, and get the d
ockyarddivers to clear it," observed Webb. "Fortunately we're not so veryfar off."

  "Beastly ignominious," objected the Lieutenant. "Crawling home like alame duck on one's trial trip. It seems to me that if we go easyastern, both engines, the reverse action will unwind the rope."

  "But----" began Webb.

  "I'll try it, at all events," decided Osborne, without waiting tohear his chum's objection. "Easy astern!"

  With the motors well throttled down and the two clutches slipped inas easily as possible, No. 0916 gathered sternway; but, before thepropeller had made fifty revolutions, the starboard engine wasstopped by a steady yet irresistible strain. Ten seconds later theport propeller, momentarily freed from the rope, fouled theobstruction and wound it round the shaft in the opposite direction.

  Osborne had omitted to take into account the trailing length of rope,and now the patrol-boat was helpless, drifting at the mercy of thewinds.

  Attempts to turn the heavy fly-wheels round by hand provedunavailing, so firmly were the propeller shafts held in the vice-likegrip.

  "I'll strip and dive in, sir," volunteered the intrepid Wilkins."Maybe I'll be able to tease the ends clear."

  "No, I think not, Wilkins," replied the youthful skipper, giving aglance at the fairly lifting waves. "You'll get your head stove in ifyou attempt to try conclusions with her quarter. It's humiliating,but we'll have to send out a wireless for assistance."

  The patrol-boat was now drifting broadside on towards the shore, thenearest points of which were distant about a mile and a half. Betweenthese, a deep bay that contracted with comparative regularity couldbe discerned. To the nor'west the greater part of the island of Gozoopened clear of the smaller island of Comino.

  A cast with the lead gave fifteen fathoms. For the present there wasno need to anchor. With safety the disabled craft could approachuntil the depth shoaled to five fathoms.

  "No immediate danger so long as the ground tackle holds," declaredOsborne. "There's a fair amount of wind, and a decent sea, butthey'll send out a vessel to tow us back in less than an hour, Ifancy."

  Webb, too, thanked his lucky stars that the weather conditions weremoderate. He found himself picturing a huge unwieldy vessel, with hergaping seams held together with ropes, drifting helplessly towardsthat self-same shore, notwithstanding the ineffectual drag of fouranchors cast from the stern. For No. 0916 was off the mouth of St.Paul's Bay, the reputed scene of the Apostle's shipwreck upon the"island which is called Melita".

  Webb's reveries were interrupted by the sight of a huge grey shapecoming into view round a projecting cliff. The shape graduallyresolved itself into a large transport, outward bound for the NearEast, and making for Valetta _en route_.

  "Pretty rotten pickle!" ejaculated Osborne savagely. "Here we are ashelpless as a log, and in full view of those fellows."

  "I don't suppose they'll notice us," said Webb. "We're lying closein. I say," he added, laying down his position-finder, "we'redrifting pretty rapidly; isn't it about time we dropped the hook?"

  "Yes," assented the Lieutenant. "We'll anchor at once. All clearfor'ard?"

  "All clear, sir."

  With a plash the mass of metal disappeared beneath the waves, takingwith it nearly forty fathoms of chain before Osborne gave the orderto check the cable. No. 0916, no longer drifting broadside to windand waves, rode jerkily at the end of the length of chain.

  By this time the transport was in full view at a distance ofone-and-a-half sea miles, and was slowing down in order to preventdamage to the shore by her bow wave.

  "Periscopes on the port bow, sir!" shouted one of the patrol-boat'screw, indicating with his outstretched arm a couple of objects thatlooked like a pair of short sticks, at a distance of less than ahundred yards.

  Osborne realized the situation in the twinkling of an eye. TheU-boat, for such she undoubtedly was, had been lying in wait forpassing vessels worthy of her attention. It was a piece of thegreatest audacity on her part to attempt to operate within a mile ofthe island of Malta; but, hearing nothing of the nature of apropeller churning the water in her immediate vicinity, she had cometo the conclusion that it was safe to display the tips of herperiscopes. And now, within easy torpedo range, was a large vesselpacked with troops and munitions.

  Osborne gave the word to open fire. In spite of the "lively"platform, the gun-layer of the for'ard quick-firer was equal to theoccasion. In a trice a gleaming cylinder disappeared into the openbreech-block of the gun. The metallic clang, denoting that thebreech-block had been closed, had hardly sounded when the weaponbarked.

  The eyes of all on the patrol-boat were fixed on the target--the twopole-like periscopes that were now almost in line as the submergedboat swung round so as to bring her torpedo-tubes to bear upon herintended victim.

  A column of water thrown fifty feet in the air hid the gun-layer'sobjective from them. A cloud of smoke denoted, however, that theshell had struck something offering more resistance than water,while, in addition, there was no ricochet.

  What happened to the U-boat was never known. Whether she sank like astone, or was able to crawl blindly for some sheltering lair,remained a secret; but the transport passed on her way unmolested.

  Three hours later, No. 0916 was safely berthed in Valetta harbour.Here the fouled rope was removed and slight defects made good.

  "After all," remarked 'Webb, "perhaps it was a jolly good thing thatwe did get into that little jamboree. It was a fairly exciting trialtrip, eh, what?"