CHAPTER XIX
That Friday Night
Three hours later H.M.S. _Capella_ received the following order bywireless:--
"Await relief by _Taurus_, then proceed to Rendezvous Y, PortsmouthCommand. _Capella_ to be temporarily attached to Western Inner Patrol."
The meaning of the message was plain to all on board. The _Capella_was to proceed to Rendezvous Y, which according to Admiraltyinstructions was off Yarmouth, Isle of Wight, where a flotilla of smallcraft was patrolling day and night, as a precautionary measure in theunlikely event of any hostile craft forcing the formidable defences ofthe western entrance to the Solent.
At eight on the following morning the _Taurus_ arrived on the station,and with the least possible delay the _Capella_ made for the west'ard.
Only one incident marked the run. A few miles from the Royal SovereignLightship, the _Capella_ sighted a number of submarines running on thesurface. They were on Particular Service, and although opportunitiesfor torpedoing a hostile surface craft were very remote, the submarineswere constantly rendering yeoman service by keeping the approaches tothe German North Sea ports under close observation. On rare occasions,when a German light-cruiser or destroyer did venture beyond theprotection of the mine-fields and guns of the land-batteries, Britishsubmarines were not backward in seizing their chance of letting loose"tinfish" against their quarry.
Having arrived off Yarmouth, Captain Syllenger reported himself to thesenior officer. He came back beaming. The _Capella_ was to take partin combined sea and land operations for the capture of the Germanagents, who were supplying petrol to one of the submarines, and alsofor the capture of the U-boat.
The eventful Friday evening came at last. The _Capella_, in companywith four first-class torpedo-boats, was to be ready at a signal fromHurst to make a dash through the North Channel. A fleet of armedtrawlers from the Poole base was to operate farther out to sea, inorder to cut off the U-boat's retreat should she be lucky enough toescape the attentions of the _Capella_ and her consorts.
At ten o'clock the east-going tidal stream began to set through theNeedles Channel. Half an hour later it ran with a velocity exceedingfive knots. The _Capella_, moving at a rate equal to that of the tide,kept about half a mile from the Isle of Wight shore, with the white,occulting light of the Needles just visible to the north of Cliff EndFort.
It was a perfectly calm night, overcast, but with no wind. A dullrumble, rising and falling in volume, could be heard from the directionof the open sea.
"Breakers on the Shingles--a large bank on the starboard hand of theNeedles Channel," explained Barry in answer to the midshipmen's enquiry.
"Then it means that bad weather is approaching," said Ross, who had hadplenty of opportunities of observing the phenomenon of "ground swells"on the North Cornish coast. "If it's like this, the U-boat won't beable to make direct communication with the shore."
The appearance of Captain Syllenger on the bridge put an end toconversation. The officers, by the aid of telescopes and binoculars,kept the Hampshire shore under close observation.
To the naked eye nothing was visible but a dark bank of trees. Not alight was to be seen, although there were several houses in thevicinity. The position of Lymington, in time of peace discernible byreason of a strong blaze of light, could only be determined by thefeeble glow of the high red light marking the course up the river.
"It's nearly midnight," observed the skipper. "If our friends theGermans are going to shift their supplies from here to Milford, they'llhave to be pretty sharp. Seems to me like a case of 'nuthin' doing'."
Hardly were the words out of his mouth, when the silence was broken bya peremptory hail. The sound travelled clearly across the water,although the person shouting must have been a mile and a half away.
Then came the jumbled noise of men's voices, quickly followed by tworifle-shots. The voices then died away, and, as far as the listenerson the _Capella_ could hear, all was quiet.
"That's soon over, whatever it was, sir," remarked Barry.
"Hurst calling up, sir," announced a signalman, as a light blinkedrapidly from the fort guarding the Hampshire side of the narrowchannel. It was the order to proceed at full speed to the positionpreviously decided upon.
Although the torpedo-boats were speedy craft, the _Capella_ left thembehind "hands down". Fortunately there were no search-lights to baffleher quartermaster, for those of both Hurst and the batteries on theIsle of Wight shore had been previously switched off. Since the NeedleChannel was closed to all mercantile shipping, the _Capella_ could, anddid, without risk, extinguish her navigation lights. Only thephosphorescent spray from her sharp cutwater marked her position.
Suddenly she ported helm, just in time to avoid a collision with a longdark shape that proved to be an unterseeboot in the act of diving. Hercommander had detected the pulsations of the _Capella_ motors, but hewas too late.
Round spun the patrol vessel. From her quarter, a long length ofsomething that resembled an exaggerated string of sausages was paidout. At the rate that the _Capella_ was circling, it was impossiblefor the U-boat to escape from her toils. Dive to a safe depth shecould not, since the maximum depth was but 5 3/4 fathoms.
The last of the "sausages", to which was attached stout flexible wire,disappeared beneath the water. Then a jerk upon the wire announced thegratifying fact that the fugitive submarine had fouled the string ofsausages, which was in reality a number of gun-cotton charges, primedand connected to a powerful battery by means of an insulated wire.
Sub-lieutenant Fox, who was standing by the firing-key, needed noorders. His fingers pressed the ebonite disc. A hundred yards asternof the _Capella_ a column of water was flying high in the air, followedby a tremendous roar. For one minute the vessel rocked violently inthe agitated waters, then, circling, she made for the spot under whichthe explosion had occurred. With a splash a mark-buoy was droppedoverboard to indicate the position of the shattered U-boat. By thistime the torpedo-boats had arrived on the scene.
"A deuce of a commotion on shore, Barry," exclaimed the skipper.
"I should be surprised if there were not, sir," replied the Sub. "Theracket was enough to smash every window within a couple of miles of thebeach. They're signalling, sir."
"German submarine's boat rowing off. Intercept her," was the signalspelt out by the long and short flashes.
"More work," remarked Barry. "It's like looking for a needle in abottle of hay. Shall I order the searchlight to be run, sir?"
"Very good," replied Captain Syllenger. "But before you do so youmight signal to Hurst, and request that all available search-light bebrought to bear in this direction."
Soon the hitherto pitch-dark sea was flooded in a blaze of light.Giant beams from the Isle of Wight shore joined with those of HurstCastle to sweep slowly across the waves, supplementing the twin raysprojected from the two search-lights on the _Capella's_ bridge.
It was indeed a brilliant spectacle. The _Capella_ and thetorpedo-boats seemed outlined in silver. Along the shore as far asHengistbury Head, the low line of cliffs was thrown into strong reliefagainst the dark background of sky. The crest of every wave seemed asif made of delicate filigree work. Nothing afloat could hope to escapedetection within the radius of action of the concentrated millions ofcandle-power search-lights.
Less than a mile away, and about the same distance from shore, a smallblack object bobbed buoyantly upon the waves. It was the ill-fatedU-boat's canvas dinghy, apparently empty.
Down bore the _Capella_, her search-lights fixed upon the object of hersearch. The boat was not deserted. Lying at full length on the bottomboards were two men, who had adopted that position, in the vain hope ofescaping detection.
As the patrol vessel approached, they sat up and raised dolorous criesof "Mercy, Englishmen!"
"Chuck it, Fritz!" shouted one of the British seamen. "You won't gethurt. You ain't in a strafed submarine now, you know."
"Silence!" orde
red the skipper. "Stand by there. Get that boataboard. See they don't sling anything overboard."
There was precious little that the German seamen could throw overboard,for when the canvas boat was placed on the Capellus deck it was foundto contain only a pair of oars and two crutches. What the Germansailors hoped to do had they escaped detection was a matter forconjecture, for without a compass, food, and water, and in a frailcockle-shell with every indication of bad weather approaching, certaindeath stared them in the face.
Finding themselves well treated, the Germans grew quite communicative.They freely admitted that they expected to obtain a considerablequantity of petrol from their agents ashore. They did not know theirnames, or if they did they professed complete ignorance on the point.Their craft, numbered for some vague reason U7, was built at Altona,and completed only a fortnight previously. In addition to her normalcrew of twenty-eight officers and men, she carried five officers andten men for instructional purposes. She was one of four that had comeround Cape Wrath and the West and South coasts of Ireland, rather thanrisk the hazardous passage through the Straits of Dover, or the almostequally dangerous North Channel between Scotland and Ireland. Two ofthe five were missing; the other was supposed to be in theneighbourhood of Cape Ushant. U7's particular mission was to intercepttransports that were known to be leaving Southampton for the Frenchcoast.
The men admitted that they had been tricked. A light had been flashedseaward, and although the signal was not strictly in accordance withthe prearranged plan, it was sufficiently accurate to delude the U7'sLieutenant-Commander.
The German officer had shown considerable skill and audacity in closingwith the shore so close to the numerous and powerful batteries. Hedwelt upon the almost absolute certainty of the gunners devoting theirattention solely to the Needles Channel, and since it was a little pastthe time of dead low water the intervening Shingles Bank, which inplaces rears itself 20 feet above the sea, would afford an efficientscreen from the search-lights.
But he had reckoned without the patrol vessels. Barely had theU-boat's collapsible rowed a hundred yards from her parent when the_Capella_ raced up, and promptly put another hostile submarine to hercredit.
Early next morning, the _Capella_ having returned to her station offYarmouth to await orders, Vernon Haye went ashore in charge of thewhaler in order to pick up mails and secure fresh provisions.
Arriving alongside the little stone quay, he left a boat-keeper incharge and proceeded towards the post office, while the coxswain andthe rest of the men went in search of the much-desired commodities inthe shape of fresh butter and milk.
Just as Vernon was about to enter the post office, he nearly collidedwith a very sleepy-looking subaltern in the uniform of the RoyalGarrison Artillery.
"By Jove, Barraclough!" he exclaimed. "I didn't expect to see youhere."
Barraclough was an Upper Sixth man at the same school as Haye, but hadleft four terms previously. On the outbreak of war he had applied for,and had obtained, a commission, and had been stationed, somewhat to hisdisappointment, at Hurst Castle. Beyond a few false alarms and aliberal experience in target practice, his existence at that isolatedfortress bordered on the monotonous. He was simply on thorns to beable to proceed to the Front; the probability was that he would have to"do his bit" for his country at a spot within 20 miles of his homeuntil the termination of the war.
"Bless my soul, Haye!" he rejoined. "Whoever would have thought to seeyou here, and in naval get-up. How long have you been in the Service,and what ship are you on?"
"Only a few weeks; and I'm on the _Capella_ with Trefusis."
"Trefusis, eh? Well, he's a lucky boy to have an Admiral for a father.And the _Capella_? Then you were in last night's affair? I heard theybagged the submarine."
"Rather!" declared Vernon proudly.
Barraclough stifled a prodigious yawn.
"Jolly glad to hear it. 'Scuse me, but I'm beastly tired. Had a nightof it after those spies across yonder. Didn't turn in till three, andat six I had to cross from Hurst to Vic.--that's Fort Victoria, youknow--on duty."
"Did you collar them?" asked the midshipman eagerly.
The subaltern yawned again.
"No," he drawled. "Worse luck, we didn't; but we had some fun. Youknow we were warned to watch Keyhaven marshes--and a dreary spot it is.Worse than the most dismal flats on the Essex coast, which is saying alot. Well, before I tell you what happened, I ought to describe theplace. It's a marsh, with patches of dry ground thickly covered withfurze, that extends from Keyhaven to Lymington River--about four miles.It is separated from the sea--or rather mud-flats, covered at hightide--by a low bank on which is an apology for a footpath.
"Our orders were to post a squad at a certain point where the spieswere supposed to have hidden a quantity of petrol. The place inquestion was close to a rifle-butt. Men were detailed to guard allroads leading to the marsh, and to allow all traffic, whethermotor-cars, carts, or pedestrians, to pass unchallenged. The sentrieswere on no account to show themselves, except to hold up everything andeveryone coming _from_ the marsh.
"Other men were told off to watch the three available roads betweenKeyhaven and Milford, where the submarine was expected to send ashorefor her stores, so you see the U-boat didn't stand much chance ofgetting what she wanted. She copped something she didn't expect.
"As soon as it was dark, my squad left Hurst by motor-boat and landednear the toll-house at Keyhaven. It was almost dead low water, youknow, or we might have been able to save ourselves a long tramp--youcouldn't call it a march.
"We followed the wretched footpath, slipping on the slimy mud, andeither tumbling over each other or else side-slipping into the morass,which was a jolly sight worse. To make a long story short, we took upour position, which was in the middle of a circular clump of furzewithin 50 yards of the butts, at ten o'clock.
"There we stuck for nearly two mortal hours, and not so much as achance of having a cigarette. Of course the men were frightfully keen,and it took me all my time to stop them from chin-wagging. Some ofthem began to get jumpy, swearing they saw all manner of men and things.
"I had just looked at my watch--luminous face, thank goodness--when mysergeant whispered to me that someone was approaching. It was thenclose on twelve. He was right. There were three men amblingcautiously along the sea-wall. They were talking softly. Once one ofthem stopped, bent under the lee of a furze bush and lit a cigarette,which seemed a rummy thing for a spy to do unless it was a prearrangedsignal.
"We let them come on until they got within 20 yards, then up popped mysergeant.
"'Halt, who goes there?' he shouted, loud enough to be heard a coupleof miles away.
"Bless me if the three fellows hadn't the cheek to answer in exactlythe same words, although they didn't sound particularly cheerful overthe job; and, instead of halting, one of them came on, holding a stickabove his head. The others didn't seem very keen to follow him, butbegan jabbering away as hard as they could.
"So I gave orders for a couple of shots to be fired over their heads,just to let them know what to expect when they deliberately ignore achallenge. But instead of 'hands up' they bolted, with our men afterthem.
"Then I had good reason to bless that blessed marsh, for between us andthe rifle-butt was a deep ditch filled with water, and a nice wirefence on the other side. Half a dozen of us, myself included, werefloundering up to our waists; the others were lucky enough to avoid theditch by making straight for the path. But we had the fellows allright."
"The spies?" asked Vernon.
Barraclough yawned, and then laughed mirthlessly.
"Nuthin' doing," he replied. "They were three members of a localdefence corps engaged in patrolling the marshes. Goodness only knowswhat for, for they hadn't any weapon with them except walking-sticks.Perhaps 'twas as well, though, for they might have let rip in theirexcitement. When a man's nerves are all upset it's not safe for him tohave his finger on the trigger of a ri
fle, you know."
"But the spies?" asked Vernon.
"Not a sign of 'em," replied the subaltern. "If they were anywhereabout, they must have sheered off pretty quickly when they heard theracket. An hour later an orderly brought us word to return to thefort, so we guessed that something had taken place between apatrol-ship and the submarine. But I must be on the move. Regards toTrefusis. If you've a chance to get ashore on the other side, look meup."