CHAPTER XII
The White Flag--and Afterwards
H.M.S. _Tremendous_, super-Dreadnought of 24,000 tons displacement, andmounting ten 13.5-inch guns as her principal armament, was tearingup-Channel at 21 knots.
She looked far different from the spick-and-span battleship which hadleft Portsmouth only six weeks previously.
Her armoured sides still showed unmistakable traces of the impact ofTurkish shells. Her grey paint was blotched, blistered, and stained.Her after funnel had plates of sheet-iron riveted to it to hide agaping hole large enough to drive a stage-coach through. Her guns wereworn out by sheer hard work. It was mainly on this account that shewas homeward bound: to have the gigantic weapons "re-lined" in orderthat she might again take her place as an effective unit of the GrandFleet.
The middle watch was about to relieve the morning watch. The messdecks were a seething mass of humanity. In spite of the apparentconfusion everyone was in high good humour, for another few hours(D.V.) would find H.M.S. _Tremendous_ at Pompey--as Portsmouth has fromtime immemorial been termed by the Navy.
On the fire-control platform sleepy-eyed officers were awaiting theirreliefs. Around the 12-pounders, the muzzles of which grinnedmenacingly from apparently haphazard positions in the superstructure,men were grouped, ready at the first alarm to train the weapons upon apossible foe. Day after day ceaseless vigilance was maintained. Oneand all realized that a moment's negligence might result in destructionby one of the most horrible creations of modern science.
"Submarine on the starboard bow, sir!"
For an instant all was tense silence. Then a bugle blared, followed bythe clear trills of the bos'n's mates' pipes and the hurried tramp ofmen's feet.
The officer of the watch brought his telescope to bear ahead. He was ajunior lieutenant, Bourne by name, and in receipt of a private incomeof eight hundred a year. On that sum he might have lived the life of aman of leisure, but he vastly preferred a strenuous life as acommissioned officer in the Royal Navy. Not once had he regretted hischoice, and upon the outbreak of war he was ready to execute a hornpipeof sheer delight at the prospect of "being in the big scrap".
"She's flying the white flag, by Jove!" he ejaculated. "Funny,deucedly funny!"
He had to act, and act promptly, for a battleship travelling at 21knots does not give a man time to think for any length of time.Already a messenger had been despatched to inform the "skipper", butbefore the captain could gain the navigation bridge (more than likelyhe was in his bath) the _Tremendous_ would have covered the interveningdistance.
The quartermaster looked enquiringly at the Lieutenant. Bourne steppedhastily to the engine-room telegraph indicator, half inclined to ringdown for "half-speed", or even "stop both engines".
He stopped abruptly.
"Steady on your helm, quartermaster."
"Steady it is, sir," replied the petty officer.
The telegraph indicator remained untouched. With undiminished speedH.M.S. _Tremendous_ held on, under the propelling force of turbineengines of 30,000 indicated horse-power.
A midshipman, standing by the side of the officer of the watch, hadbeen keeping the submarine under observation by means of his telescope.
"By Jove, sir!" he exclaimed. "There's something wrong there. Thewhite flag's down, and two fellows in mufti have leapt overboard."
"Torpedo on the port bow, sir!" sang out half a dozen lusty voices inchorus.
"Hard-a-port, quartermaster!" ordered Bourne.
The spokes of the steam steering-gear revolved quicker than they hadever done before. Listing heavily to port, the _Tremendous_ turnedwith a rapidity that belied her huge bulk and apparent unhandiness. Adouble track of ever-diverging foam marked the progress of the deadlymissile. Another followed almost in its wake, both torpedoestravelling at the speed of an express train.
For four seconds all on board who watched these messages of death stoodwith bated breath. Then a general roar of relief went up as the two"tinfish" glided harmlessly past the ship, the nearest at a distance ofless than twenty feet, and parallel to the new course of the battleship.
Half a dozen quick-firers spat viciously. A 6-inch, two of which forsome obscure reason the designers had placed on the main deck abreastof the after 15-inch guns, added to the din. A chaos of smoke, flame,and spray marked the spot beneath which U77 had lurked to launch hercowardly and treacherous bolt.
"That's blinded her, at least," thought Bourne.
He knew that even if the hidden submarine had escaped injury, a minuteat least would elapse before she could be conned into a position todischarge another torpedo. That minute would be enough for his purpose.
"Starboard!" he ordered. "Ram her, quartermaster!"
Round swung the 24,000 tons of dead weight, steadied, and bore downupon the motionless U75. Cries of terror burst from the doomed crew,many of whom leapt overboard in a vain attempt to swim clear of thevengeful leviathan.
Bourne gripped the guard-rail, half expecting to be thrown violently bythe force of the impact. He was mistaken.
With hardly a tremor the bows of the _Tremendous_ crashed into theunterseeboot, hitting her just abaft the conning-tower. The bowportion sank like a stone. The after part reared itself high in theair, revealing the curiously shaped stern, the two propellers, and thecomplication of rudders. Then, before the cloud of smoke and spray hadtime to drift inboard, the _Tremendous_ was over and beyond theever-widening circle of iridescent oil that marked the ocean grave ofyet another of the would-be blockaders of Britain's shores.
Even in the midst of his great responsibility Bourne's keen eyediscerned two heads bobbing up and down in the water. The midshipmannoticed them too.
"They are those fellows who hauled down the white flag, sir," heexclaimed. "They are quite youngsters, too, and we daren't stop."
"No, we dare not," agreed the Lieutenant. For aught he knew, anotherunterseeboot might be in the vicinity, reserving her torpedoes in thehope that the battleship would slow down to investigate. "Pass theword to the sentry to let go the Kisbie. It's the best we can do."
With a splash the patent lifebuoy was dropped from the cage at theextremity of the navigation-bridge. It bobbed up again under thebattleship's quarter, emitting a dense cloud of calcium smoke as it didso. By the time the marine had dropped the Kisbie the ship was aquarter of a mile away from the two swimmers.
"It's the best we can do," repeated Bourne as he closed the eyepiece ofhis telescope. "They may fetch it, they are swimming strongly."
"Well done, Mr. Bourne!" exclaimed a deep voice.
Turning, the Lieutenant faced the Captain standing beside him.
"A smart manoeuvre!" continued the skipper approvingly. "We can nowonly carry on; but we'll wireless the Commander-in-Chief Devonport, andreport that there are survivors from the rammed submarine. He'll havea destroyer patrol on the spot within an hour, and I hope it won't betoo late."
Bourne stepped to the extremity of the bridge and glanced astern. Hiseffort to distinguish the heads of the two swimmers was fruitless, fora thin haze, the smoke from the ship's funnel, spread far in her wake,completely obliterating the spot where Ross Trefusis and Vernon Hayewere swimming for dear life.
It will be necessary to set back the hands of the clock in order tofollow the fortunes of Ross and his chum.
"Is she slowing down?" whispered Vernon anxiously, as they stood on thedeck of U75 awaiting the approach of the _Tremendous_.
"I don't think so," replied Ross. "But now's our time."
The attention of Schwalbe and his crew was centred upon the battleship;the Kapitan momentarily expecting to see the huge vessel reel under theimpact of the terrible torpedo, while the men began to entertain gravedoubts as to whether the British ship would accept their token ofsurrender. The fact that the super-Dreadnought showed no signs ofslowing down revived Kapitan Schwalbe's doubts. Knowing the difficultyof hitting, even at a comparatively short range, a swiftly movingtarget, he b
egan to wonder whether he did the right thing in falling inwith von Hoffner's diabolical plan.
His hurried thoughts were suddenly interrupted by some light objectenveloping his head and shoulders. Before he could tear the fabricaway he heard two distinct splashes, followed by shouts of astonishmentfrom the crew; for with one clean sweep with his knife Ross had severedthe halliards of the ensign staff.
The lads dived deep, swimming the while with long, powerful strokes,for both were accomplished in the art of natation. They were longer incoming to the surface than they anticipated, owing to the weight oftheir half-boots, which they had been unable to remove without risk ofcausing suspicion.
When at length their heads emerged almost simultaneously, they foundthemselves nearly fifteen yards from the doomed U75.
"Strike out!" spluttered Ross. "Get as far away from her as you can.Never mind about old Schwalbe. He can't hurt us."
Ross was right, for however much the Kapitan wanted to wreak hisvengeance upon his former prisoners, he was unable to do so. In hisrole as that of an officer waiting to surrender, the possession of arevolver would tend to "give the show away". He had left his pistol inhis cabin--an example that his Unter-leutnant had followed. And nowhis attention was directed upon the British battleship.
Meanwhile, the lads, swimming strongly, saw the _Tremendous_ heel asshe ported helm. For a minute, not knowing how a ship behaves when thehelm is suddenly put hard over, they thought that the treacherousunterseeboot had successfully carried out her cold-blooded plan. Yetno explosion occurred, and the battleship recovered her normal trim.
With their eyes only a few inches above the surface, the lads could seenothing of the track of the torpedoes. They had no indication thatthey had been fired until the _Tremendous_ let fly with her 12-pounders.
"I think we've saved her," said Vernon. "Now there'll be trouble forus. Schwalbe will certainly have a shot at recapturing us after thebattleship has cleared off. Why doesn't she settle U75, I wonder?"
The lads both expressed astonishment that the motionless unterseeboothad escaped the attention of the super-Dreadnought's quick-firers. Itseemed as if the latter were ignoring U75 altogether and was sheeringoff at full speed.
Suddenly Ross gave a whoop of delight, which ended in his swallowing amouthful of salt water. The _Tremendous_ was turning once more, andheading straight for the doomed submarine.
"THE _TREMENDOUS_ WAS HEADING STRAIGHT FOR THE DOOMEDSUBMARINE"]
Mentally Ross compared the on-coming battleship with an express train,as shown on a cinematograph screen, in the act of approaching theaudience. At one moment the ship was visible from her water-line tothe truck of her top-mast; at the next her bulk had suddenly expandedand seemed to fill the complete field of vision. It looked as if thetwo lads, in spite of the distance they had put between themselves andthe motionless submarine, would yet be in the way of the vengefulbattleship, whose extreme beam was not less than ninety feet.
Yet neither of the two chums made the slightest effort to swim fartheraway. Mechanically treading water, they waited and watched.
They could see the terror-stricken attitudes of the crew of the doomedU75. They heard the shouts of consternation as the massive steel bowsbore down upon her. Then, in a second it seemed, there was a hideouscrash that outvoiced the yells and shouts of despair as theunterseeboot was rent in twain.
Of what happened during the next minute the lads had but a very hazyidea. Caught by the irresistible bow wave as the _Tremendous_ torepast, they were hurled aside like feathers and buried a couple offathoms down under the breaking, foaming mass of water. Vaguely theyheard the whirring of the four propellers--very near, it seemed; then,caught by an eddy caused by the cavitation in the wake of the monstrousvessel, they were separated and flung to the surface, half-breathlessand dazed.
Ross opened his eyes. The _Tremendous_ had already covered nearly aquarter of a mile. Twenty yards away he saw his chum's head, asVernon, puffing like a grampus, was striking out towards him.
Where the submarine had dived for the last time was an ever-wideningcircle of oil. Those of the German crew who had not been carried downby the sinking unterseeboot were too shaken by the concussion to makeany great effort to save their lives. Attempting to keep afloat inthat oil-covered water added to their difficulties, for whenever thehead of a swimmer disappeared he did not rise again.
"Kick off your boots, old man," exclaimed Ross.
"Where are the lifebuoys?" asked Vernon as he carried out his friend'sadvice.
One buoy had disappeared; the other was supporting a seaman, the onlysurvivor of the crew.
"A case of finding's are keeping's," announced Ross. "We can't slinghim out of it. It might support two people. We could take turns athanging on."
"Stop!" exclaimed Vernon as Ross began to strike out towards the buoy."There'll be trouble if we get mixed up in that oil. It's much lighterthan water. I doubt whether we could swim in it. Do you think the_Tremendous_ will put back?"
"Not likely," replied Trefusis.
He looked in the direction of the fast-vanishing battleship, halfhoping that she would slow down and lower a boat. As he did so,something caught his eye: a cloud of grey smoke apparently issuing fromthe sea.
"What's that?" he asked, pointing in that direction.
"Torpedo, perhaps; one that has finished her run," suggested Vernon;but his chum waved aside the explanation.
"If U77 did fire a torpedo, you can bet your bottom dollar it wasn'tone with a dummy head!" he said. "Only practice torpedoes send up acalcium light when their compressed air has given out. By Jove, Ibelieve it's one of those patent buoys! Let's make for it."
The lads swam strongly, making powerful and comparatively slowbreast-strokes. The water was warm. They were in no immediate dangerof cramp.
As they skirted the patch of oil they noticed that the seaman holdingon to the buoy had turned round. His face was now in their direction.The man was Hans Koppe.
"Are you all right, Hans?" shouted Ross.
"Yes, mein herr," replied the man. "I've found a buoy."
"Thanks to us," thought Trefusis; then raising his voice: "You hadbetter kick out and get clear of the oil," he advised. "We are makingfor yonder buoy."
By the time the swimmers reached the Kisbie the emission of calciumsmoke had ceased. They found that not only did the buoy support themboth, but that it was so constructed as to allow them to maintain asitting position without having to hold on with both hands. Glad of aseat they waited, watching the approach of Hans Koppe, and also lookingfor the undesired reappearance of U77.
"Ach! My wife and children!" exclaimed Hans Koppe disconsolately, ashe brought his lifebuoy close alongside. "I shall never see themagain."
"Cheer up, Hans!" replied Vernon. "At any moment U77 might come to thesurface and take you on board. We don't mind, so long as they let usalone. We've had enough of your unterseebooten."
"U77?" gasped the German incredulously. "How do you know that?"
Briefly Haye related the story of the ill-fated Kapitan Schwalbe'streachery. As he proceeded Han's face bore a surprised expression thatpresently changed to one of fear.
"If we are picked up by an English ship," he remarked, "they will shootme for abuse of the white flag. And I am innocent. Ach! my poor wife."
"They won't," replied Ross reassuringly. "We can swear that you knewnothing about it."
The minutes passed slowly. There was no sign of U77. Little did thethree survivors know that she lay within a quarter of a mile of herconsort, on the bed of the English Channel--to add to theever-increasing roll of unterseebooten that were fated never to enter aGerman port again.
The sun rose higher and higher, its rays gathering strength as it didso. The heads of the three survivors were exposed to the solar heat;their bodies and limbs were numbed by prolonged immersion. The desirefor conversation had long since passed. Almost exhausted they hung totheir supports, listless and tor
pid. A few sea-gulls, struck with thesilence of the three men, hovered overhead, and swooped with shrillcries to settle on the water within close distance of what appeared tobe a possible meal. One bolder than the rest perched upon Trefusis'head.
Raising his arm, Ross dealt the bird a furious blow. It missed, buthad the effect of scattering the gulls. Apathetically the lad watchedthem as they flew off. As he did so he caught sight of three vesselsbeing driven at high speed.
"Hurrah!" he exclaimed feebly. "The destroyers, old man; we are saved!"