CHAPTER XI
Preparations
"The brutes!" ejaculated Vernon savagely. He was violently excited.Perspiration was pouring off his face at the thought of the almostunparalleled act of wanton treachery that was about to be enacted. "Ifwe could only prevent them!"
"I can't see how," rejoined Ross gloomily. "We cannot give an alarm.If we could control the valves for half a minute, I'd sink this blessedcraft with all on board, myself included, for good and all. But it isno use talking of the impossibly heroic."
"I have a plan," announced Vernon, after thinking deeply for a fewminutes.
"Well, out with it!"
"We have to pass through one of the broadside torpedo-rooms as we go ondeck. We could each snatch a spanner and give the war-heads a terrificblow. You'll remember that there are half a dozen torpedoes in thecages against the bulkhead. It would mean certain death for us, but itwould save nearly a thousand lives."
Ross shook his head.
"There's no certainty of success," he objected. "Those torpedoes arevery much like our own Whiteheads. The striker in the head isprotected against accidental discharge by a small propeller. Until thetorpedo travels a certain distance through the water--sufficient forthe resistance against the blades to cause the safety device tounthread and leave the striker free to hit the primer--the danger ofpremature explosion is almost negligible. We shouldn't have time torevolve the safety blades enough, and I'm pretty certain that even aheavy blow on the war-head itself would not explode the charge."
"Then I'm done," said Vernon dejectedly. "Think of something, oldman--something that will hold water."
Silence ensued for nearly ten minutes, broken only by the tapping ofthe waves against the sides of the submarine, and the gentle purr ofthe dynamos for supplying light to the interior of the vessel.
Suddenly Ross leapt out of his bunk. He dared not trust himself tospeak above a whisper for fear of being overheard.
"Dash it all, old man!" exclaimed Vernon, when his chum had confidedhis plans; "it ought to work. If it doesn't, nothing else will. I'mon it, happen what may!"
"We'll want our knives for the job," continued Ross. "Yours will openeasily, I hope? Good! Sharp? We'll run no risks. A sharp blade isabsolutely necessary."
They drew the knives and whetted the blades upon the soles of theirboots. At Vernon's suggestion they kept open the big blades, making ahole through the lining of their pockets in order to keep the knives ina horizontal position and ready to hand.
"Now let's turn in properly," suggested the practical Ross. "We wantto be fairly fresh for the job in front of us."
Soon after sunrise on the morrow all hands were mustered aft on deck,Ross and Vernon included. It was a bright morning. The sun had risenseemingly out of the sea, or in nautical parlance it was a "low dawn".There was a chilliness in the air that made the lads wish that they hadbeen wearing overcoats.
They looked in vain for U75's consort. The unterseeboot that was todeal the coward's blow was not to be seen. Her presence was to be kepta secret from the crew of the decoy.
Kapitan Schwalbe, accompanied by his Unter-leutnant, made his way aft.He looked pale and care-worn. He had lost his military manner. Hisgait suggested that of a man recovering from a long illness.
"My men," he exclaimed, "circumstances over which I have no controlmake it necessary to bring our cruise to a speedy termination. U75 isno longer in a state of efficiency, either for offence or flight. Ittherefore remains for us to save our lives by surrendering to the firstEnglish ship of war that we fall in with. It is a humiliating anddistasteful step to take, but there is no option."
The crew heard this lying speech in silence. They hardly knew what tomake of it. The majority mentally decided that it was better to beimprisoned in England than to rot on the bed of the sea. KapitanSchwalbe had no faith in his men's histrionic abilities; he was alsoafraid that they would oppose the scheme that he himself had deprecatedas being too risky.
Hiding their indignation, Ross and his chum saw the Kapitan hand apetty officer a white flag. The man took it, and lashed short piecesof cord to two adjacent corners.
Hans Koppe sidled up to his charges.
"You will soon be free," he remarked. "Ach! but you do not seemoverjoyed. You English are indeed a queer race."
Receiving no reply, the man went below to follow the example of hiscomrades, who were getting together their personal belongings. Many ofthem thought of the times when they had seen non-belligerents dolikewise. It was the boot on the other foot with a vengeance.
Ross gave another glance across the horizon. Nothing was in sight.Gripping his chum's arm, he led him for'ard. U75 was motionless. Thedeck was deserted. A quartermaster stood on the navigation platform infront of the conning-tower. Kapitan Schwalbe and his Unter-leutnanthad likewise vanished.
As Ross passed the conning-tower, he pulled out his knife and deftlysevered the lashings of a couple of buoys secured to the hand-rail. Itwas the first act of the lad's plan of operations.
"Vessel on the port bow, sir!" shouted the quartermaster.
Kapitan Schwalbe was on deck in a trice, closely followed by hissubordinate. For a few moments, he kept his binoculars focused uponthe indistinct grey object, then three miles off.
"It is the _Tremendous_," he announced in an undertone to theUnter-leutnant. "Another ten minutes will see the business through."
He spoke with confidence, but it was a confidence inspired by a liberaldose of brandy. He felt that he had already passed the Rubicon. Therecould be no turning back.
A whistle trilled shrilly. At the signal the men again doubled aft,and joined up in a double line.
"Where are the English boys?" enquired Kapitan Schwalbe.
"Coming," replied Ross. For the first time on board he omitted to addthe word "sir". His omission was deliberate. Utter contempt for theGerman captain consumed him. Schwalbe, too, noticed the manner inwhich he had replied. He smiled grimly, imagining that now the ladsthought themselves about to be free they could afford to be curt.
As the chums passed the lifebuoys, they deftly heaved them overboard.They fell with hardly a splash, dropping close to the side of themotionless submarine.
No one noticed the act. The attention of the crew was centred upon alittle ceremony that was taking place. Bareheaded, the men stood atattention. Their voices broke into the song of "Die Wacht am Rhein" asthe emblem of German sea-power was slowly lowered from the ensign staff.
The men sang sonorously and in perfect cadence. They firmly believedthat it was their last tribute as free men to their Fatherland. As thelast bar terminated, the petty officer smartly hoisted the white flag.For an instant it hung limply, confined by one of the halliards; thenlike a square of stretched canvas it blew out in the steady breeze--amodern counterpart of the kiss of Judas.
And standing just behind the Kapitan, within arm's reach of the ensignstaff, were Ross Trefusis and Vernon Haye.