CHAPTER XVIII
The Smoke-signals
For the next ten days nothing occurred beyond the ordinary routine.Even Ross and Vernon, to whom everything was at first a novelty, beganto feel the irksomeness of the constant and vigilant patrol. Nohostile submarines made their appearance; there were not even anyreports, true or otherwise, that they had been sighted. It was thesame all along the English Channel--"nothin' doing". It seemed as ifthe unterseebooten had finally given up these waters as a "bad egg".
Yet it would be most injudicious for the naval authorities to relaxtheir watchfulness. Areas of strategic importance must still beclosely guarded, since it was just possible that the wily Teuton wouldrefrain from submarine warfare in the Channel until the patrol-boats'crews were lulled into a sense of false optimism.
The only break in the monotony was the occasional and welcomeappearance of a motor-boat from Shoreham, bringing off fresh supplies,newspapers and letters for the patrol vessels.
Amongst Ross's correspondence was a letter from his father. AdmiralTrefusis gave no indication of what he was doing, merely a briefstatement that he was still "somewhere in the North Sea". Hecongratulated his son upon his escape, and mentioned that he had heardfrom the captain of H.M.S. _Tremendous_ with reference to his son'saction in warning the battleship. But although the Admiral did notexpress himself very enthusiastically on paper, he was as pleased asonly a proud father can be at his boy's display of gallantry andresource. "Under the circumstances," he wrote, "I think you did rightin temporarily abandoning your preparation for Sandhurst. No doubt youwill acquit yourself in your present position as a Trefusis should do.I was certainly surprised to hear about that fellow Ramblethorne. Healways appeared to be a really decent man. It only shows how carefulone has to be when dealing with a highly organized enemy."
Amongst Vernon's batch of correspondence was a letter fromDetective-inspector Hawke. It was couched in semi-official language, asurvival of days long ago when the Inspector was a budding constableand had to submit countless written reports to his superiors.
There was, he wrote, no definite news concerning Ramblethorne,otherwise von Hauptwald. The local police had taken up the case, and,assisted by the military, were still scouring the country. As usual,there were inaccurate and misleading reports from various parts of thecountry. It was generally accepted that the spy was being hidden bysome of his compatriots who, by indulgence of the British Government,were still at large in the country, or else that he had succeeded ingetting away on board a neutral ship.
The inquest on von Ruhle had taken place, with the anticipated result,a verdict of _felo de se_ being returned by the jury. No evidence hadbeen submitted as to the dead man's real occupation. Under the name ofCornelius Vanderhuit his body was handed over to the authorities forinterment.
But the case did not end there. It remained for the competentAuthorities to decide the steps to be taken with reference to thepapers that had been found in von Ruhle's possession.
"I am keeping von Ruhle's 'malacca' as a memento," concluded Hawke."It may help me to discriminate between it and a portable metal tripod,and save me from being placed under arrest by the military.Fortunately, upon the last occasion, I did not meet with my Waterloo."
"The old chap feels a bit sore about it, I can see," remarked Ross."He's written a good deal more than he evidently intended. However, helooks like 'making good' this time."
"It's a pity Ramblethorne slipped through the detectives' fingers,"said Vernon, as he prepared to go on deck. "That fellow's bound tocause trouble until he's laid by the heels."
It was Noel Fox's "trick". The Sub was standing on the bridge with hiseye glued to his telescope. A mile or so inland, on the summit of theSouth Downs where they approach Beachy Head, three columns of smokewere rising in the still air. There was nothing extraordinary in that.It might be a farmer burning rubbish on his fields; but what attractedthe Sub's attention was the remarkable and systematic changes in thedensity of the smoke. At one moment the two outside pillars wereheavy, the centre one being little more than a thin haze; at anotherthe conditions would be reversed.
Fox decided to take action. Rapidly the _Capella_ closed with theshore, until she was within signalling distance of a coast-guardstation.
The station in question was not manned by coast-guards. Not consideredimportant, its complement was depleted at the outbreak of hostilities,most of the men joining the large armoured cruisers. A chief officerand a boatman alone remained. These were at a later period augmentedby a party of Sea Scouts.
As soon as the _Capella_ had "made her number", a signaller took up hisposition on the roof of the chart-house.
"Fires burning one mile inland to north-west of coast-guard station,"he semaphored. "Suspect smoke-signals. Investigate and report."
Keeping his telescope bearing on shore, Vernon watched the result ofthe signal. Promptly half a dozen Scouts, mounted on bicycles, set offto the position indicated. Their progress was hidden by an interveningclump of trees, but in less than a quarter of an hour they returned.By this time the smoke had disappeared. One of their number worked thesemaphore attached to the station.
"Fires made with damp straw. Found old blankets apparently used tostifle smoke. Saw large car stationary; made towards Lewes onapproach; number known; have informed police."
"Smart youngsters!" exclaimed Captain Syllenger. "They've helped tonip some little plan in the bud. We'll have to be jolly careful forthe next few days, I expect. Did you make a note of the fog-signals,Mr. Fox?"
"I did, sir," replied the Sub, producing a leaf of a notebook coveredwith an unintelligible number of lines. "Each of these strokesrepresents a column of smoke according to its position."
"I can make nothing of it," remarked Syllenger. "At any rate I'll sendyour result to the Admiralty with the utmost dispatch. Take her in,Mr. Fox, and bring up where you find the two-fathom mark."
The _Capella_ headed nearer towards the shore, a leads-man soundinguntil the required depth was found. One of the boats was lowered,manned, and rowed to the coast-guard station, Sub-lieutenant Barrybeing in charge, with Ross as his immediate subordinate.
"I want this to be forwarded to the Admiralty with the least possibledelay," he announced, addressing the chief officer. "How long do youthink it will take to get through?"
"Too late for the eleven something train from Brighton, sir," was thereply. "There's a gentleman in the village who has a big car. He's amember of the Volunteer Training Corps. No doubt he'll take it as faras Lewes. Why, sir, here's the gent himself! Mr. Hyde's his name."
The newcomer was a sparely built man of below medium height. He lookedabout thirty years of age. In reality he was nearly fifty. Havingvainly attempted to obtain a commission in the R.N.R. and the Army, hehad joined the V.T.C. in the hope that, perhaps, some day his servicesmight be utilized in a very practical form. Now his chance was at hand.
He had strolled down to the beach on noticing a boat putting off fromthe patrol vessel.
"Lewes? Certainly," he replied in answer to Barry's question. "Idoubt whether you'll save much. Why not let me take the message rightto the Admiralty? I'd like to do it, 'pon my word I would."
The Sub hesitated. Perhaps the stranger might be all right; but hemight be all wrong. One had to be very careful in these times. Yetthe offer was a tempting one. If possible, it was most desirable to beable to decipher the transcription of these mysterious columns of smoke.
"I say, Trefusis," he said, "you've had a fairly long time afloat; whatdo you say to a run up to town? I'm sure this gentleman would make noobjection to giving you a seat in his car."
"With the greatest pleasure," declared Mr. Hyde.
"Thanks!" rejoined Barry. "Of course the honour of delivering theletter will be yours, sir. Mr. Trefusis accompanies you merely as apassenger. We'll stand by to pick you up, Trefusis. I'll make it allright with the skipper."
The Sub accompanied Mr. Hy
de and the midshipman to the garage, whichwas about four minutes' walk from the coast-guard station. While theman was getting out the car (he was his own chauffeur), Barry seizedthe opportunity of telling Ross to be on his guard, in case anythingsuspicious occurred.
With a terrific bound the powerful car started on its sixty-milejourney. Between the sea and Lewes the needle of the speed-indicatornever fell below 40 miles an hour, until at times the car was runningat 60. Village after village was passed at almost break-neck speed.In vain, sleepy rural constables sought to hold up the reckless driver.Discretion was the better part of valour, so they stood aside andattempted to note the number on the identification plate of the car.Again in vain. All they could see and swallow was a cloud of white,chalky dust that hung thickly on the sultry air long after the car wasout of sight and hearing.
The hills around East Grinstead it surmounted at 40 miles an hour,dashing down the inclines at the speed of an express train, andswerving time after time to avoid lumbering farm wagons.
At Croydon Mr. Hyde wisely slowed down. He had covered 49 miles inexactly fifty-five minutes, but twenty-eight minutes later the car drewup under the Admiralty Arch.
"Room 445 is the one I want," he explained to Ross. "I know my wayabout here, you know. I've several relations at the Admiralty. Comealong: the car won't hurt where she is."
"Your pass, sir," demanded a Metropolitan policeman who, with a navalpensioned petty officer, was stationed at the door.
"Haven't one," replied Mr. Hyde. "Urgent business--see?" and heproduced the envelope, bearing the words "On His Majesty's Service", inwhich was enclosed Captain Syllenger's communication.
The policeman was the essence of imperturbable dignity.
"No use, sir; you must have a pass. They are obtainable across theroad there."
"It will mean at least twenty minutes' delay," muttered the motoristsavagely, as he turned away. "Come on, Mr. Trefusis, let's try ourluck across the way."
As Ross descended the short flight of stone steps leading from thelobby to the street, he nearly cannoned into a couple of naval officerswho were about to enter the building. Suddenly remembering that he wasin uniform, the midshipman brought his right hand smartly to the peakof his cap. As he did so, he recognized that one of the naval men washis father.
The recognition was mutual.
"Hullo, pater!"
"Hullo, Ross! What brings you here? Duty, eh? It's the same in mycase. Sorry I can't have you to lunch, but must catch the first trainnorth. This is the first time I've come up to town since the warstarted. In any case I'm not sorry that I am not stopping the nighthere. Judging by reports, it's a jolly sight too dangerous for me.Don't fancy being run over by a taxi in a dark main thoroughfare. Giveme the North Sea any day. Well, I must be moving. Can't keep My Lordswaiting, you know. Good-bye, Ross!"
It was Admiral Paul Trefusis' way. Whenever he had any business onhand that kept him from his ship, he invariably spoke in short, jerkysentences. Ross knew his parent's little mannerism.
"One moment, pater," he exclaimed. "We're in an awful hurry too----"
"Don't look like it," growled the Admiral good-naturedly. "You wereambling out like an old shellback. Always execute orders at thedouble: that's my advice to budding midshipmen. Well, what is it?"
As briefly as possible, Ross told his parent of the rebuff Mr. Hyde andhe had received, and of the matter that brought them at 50 miles anhour from a remote Sussex coast-guard station.
Making a hurried excuse to his companion, the Admiral skipped up thesteps into the lobby, Ross and his fellow-traveller following closely.
The policeman naturally asked for no pass from a Flag officer inuniform, but he was on the point of stopping his companions when themessenger recognized the Admiral as his former captain. His apologiessurprised even the stolid policeman.
"Don't apologize for doing your duty, my man," remarked AdmiralTrefusis. "Hope you're fit. Must have a yarn with you when I've moretime. Come along, Ross."
Having seen Mr. Hyde and Ross safely to the outside of the door of Room445, the Admiral abruptly took his departure.
In reply to a knock the door was opened by a very tired-looking clerk,who was bravely bearing up under the strain of having to work ninetyhours a week, including Sundays. Having explained his business, Mr.Hyde was shown into the presence of an official whose talent was littleshort of miraculous.
A dozen precise and pointed questions put him in full possession of allthe facts bearing upon the document that he required. He touched anelectric bell. An assistant hurried to his desk.
"Bring me the papers on the von Ruhle case," he ordered in an undertone.
In less than half an hour the transcription was completed, although the_Capella's_ officer of the watch had not taken down the actualcommencement of the smoke-signal. Then, having "pressed" the paper inorder to obtain a duplicate copy, the official placed it in anenvelope, which he secured with an imposing wax seal.
"No mistake about it, the war has bucked the civilian staff at theAdmiralty," observed Mr. Hyde to Ross as they gained the street. "Ican remember a time when all you had to do was to mention someone'sname, and you had practically a free entry. Your particular pal couldalways contrive to have an hour's yarn with you, and perhaps aninterval for refreshment. They know what working at high pressuremeans now."
Hyde was more cautious on the return journey. He was well within thelimit that he had set himself. An hour and forty minutes later, thecar drew up outside the coast-guard station.
"Captain Syllenger presents his compliments, Mr. Hyde, and requestsyour company on board," said Sub-lieutenant Barry when the _Capella's_boat arrived to take off the midshipman. "Ton my word, you haven'tbeen long. We didn't expect you back before six o'clock."
Having received his guest, Captain Syllenger led the way to his cabin,Barry and Ross being included in the party. The skipper's face glowedwith satisfaction when he had opened the envelope, for the signal asdecoded was as follows:
"(words missing) closely patrolled. Unable to provide stores here.Will attempt removal of (word missing) from Station 123 on Fridaynight. Will signal from Station 125 at 1 a.m. on Saturday if possible.Transports leaving by Needles Channel at daybreak."
Following this was an explanatory note.
"Station 123 is stated to be in Keyhaven Marshes. Station 125 one milewest of white house at Milford-on-Sea."
"Humph!" ejaculated Captain Syllenger. "It looks as if there's troublein store for some gentlemen of marked Teutonic sympathies. I only hopewe'll have a chance of being off Station 125."