CHAPTER XXVIII
Almost Recaptured
"What's that light, Jan?" asked the Flight-Sub.
The _Hoorn_ was now well beyond the three-mile limit. Ross and hisfellow-passenger were standing aft, sheltering from the keensouth-westerly wind. The mate of the vessel was with them, the skipperbeing on the bridge.
"Those lights?" corrected Jan. "They have been visible all the time.They are the two white leading-lights to Ymuiden harbour."
"No, I don't mean those," said the Flight-Sub. "Away to the south'ard,quite a mile from the harbour. See, it's showing again."
From the dunes a white light blinked thrice and then disappeared.
"I do not know," answered Jan gravely. He thought for a moment andthen said: "Half a mo'. I will speak to the skipper."
"Hanged if I like it," muttered the Flight-Sub. "I say, Trefusis, thatlight blinking away looks very fishy. It would mean a fifty-pound finein England; but here, apparently, it is not objected to."
The skipper and the mate were talking rapidly. Both men were leaningover the after side of the bridge-rails, with their eyes fixed upon thedark shore from which the mysterious light flickered at regularintervals.
"Light on the port bow," reported the helmsman. Both of the _Hoorn's_officers turned just in time to catch sight of a steady white lightbefore it disappeared. Whatever its meaning, it was remarkable thatfrom that moment the shore light ceased to blink.
"Put out our navigation lamps, Jan," said the skipper. "Someone hasbetrayed your English friends. Nevertheless I will do all in my powerto aid them. We'll steer south-west for an hour. Perhaps we mayoutwit yon craft, whatever she may be, before dawn."
Ross and his companion were quick to note the alteration of helm. Theyknew, too, that the removal of the steaming-lights was for the purposeof baffling what must be, to a dead certainty, a German craft--asubmarine, or perhaps a torpedo-boat, since the latter frequentlyventured out of Borkum and crept stealthily towards the Schelde,keeping close to the Dutch territorial waters in order to avoid beingsnapped by the vigilant British destroyer flotilla.
Slowly the wintry day dawned. Anxiously the British officers scannedthe horizon. The low-lying Dutch coast was now invisible. All aroundwas a waste of grey, tumbling waves, unbroken by a sail of anydescription.
The _Hoorn_ was ploughing her way at a modest ten knots. Short, beamy,and deep-draughted, she was pitching heavily, sending a frothy bow wavefar to leeward each time she dipped her nose into the steep seas.
"I'd give a fiver for the sight of a good old White Ensign at thepresent moment," remarked the Flight-Sub anxiously. "Good heavens,what's that?"
Ten seconds later he laughed mirthlessly.
"Nerves going to blazes," he muttered. "A bit of wreckage gave me thejumps. By Jove, don't we look a pair of comical objects?"
They had discarded their grotesque head-dress. Ross had a woollenmuffler wrapped round his head, while his companion had been given theloan of a red stocking-cap, but they still retained the weird garb inwhich they had made their journey down the ship canal.
Suddenly Ross gripped his companion's arm and pointed with his righthand to a spar-like object projecting a few feet, close to the waves,at less than a cable's length on the port quarter.
"A periscope!" ejaculated the Flight-Sub.
"Let's hope it's one of our own submarines," said Ross.
"We'll soon find out," added his companion. "It's forging ahead.Whatever it is, they've got us under observation."
Jan, who was now on the bridge, had his attention called to thedisconcerting fact. He beckoned to his two passengers.
"You had better go below and stow yourselves away," he suggested. "Wewill be boarded before long."
"Not I," replied the Flight-Sub. "They've marked us already. If theydo take us they won't have to dig us out of a coal-bunker."
The submarine was emerging. At a pace that more than held its own withthe _Hoorn_, she shook herself clear of the water, although green seaswere breaking across the flat deck as far aft as the conning-tower.
Then muffled forms clambered through the hatchway; a young,yellow-bearded officer appeared on the navigation platform and hailedthe _Hoorn_ in Dutch to heave to instantly.
Even then the tough old Dutch skipper was not going to give in withouta protest.
"For what reason?" he shouted back. "This is a Netherlands ship."
"That I do not doubt," rejoined the officer of the submarine. "But youhave two Englishmen on board who have broken their parole----"
"You lie!" interrupted the skipper vehemently.
"Not a word more!" exclaimed the German fiercely. "Heave to, or wesink you!"
Reluctantly the "old man" gave the order to stop the engines. Jan,sliding down the bridge ladder, communicated to the British officersthe text of the conversation.
"Some rascal of a German spy has betrayed you," he added. "If I couldlay my hands upon him----"
There was a look on the Dutchman's face which showed that his anger wasgenuine.
"All right, Jan," said the Flight-Sub. "It's the fortune of war."
* * * * *
"Deucedly rotten morning," remarked Sub-lieutenant Fox as he greetedthe officer of the watch, whom he was about to relieve.
Eccles, the Lieutenant, who had been on the _Capella's_ bridge for fourlong and dreary hours, merely nodded sleepily. He was thinking, withfeelings of satisfaction, of the hot coffee and fragrant bacon and eggsawaiting him below. Three minutes had to elapse before eight bells.Wearily he rubbed his salt-rimmed eyelids with a heavily gloved hand.
"_Taurus_ wirelessed twenty minutes ago," he reported, as the twoofficers entered the chart-room. "She was then at the extreme limit ofher northerly course. You ought to sight her very shortly. Here's ourcourse"--he indicated the pencilled line on the chart. "Nothing toreport: there never is when I'm officer of the watch. It's thisinfernal monotony that plays havoc with a fellow's nerves."
Noel Fox nodded sympathetically. Although the _Capella_ had been onlysix days on her new station--keeping a watch on the Dutch coast betweenthe Texel and the North Hinder Lightship--he, too, was mightily "fedup" with the task of "treading on the tail of Germany's coat".
Not so much as the periscope of a hostile submarine had been sighted.The German torpedo-boats that occasionally sneaked southwards fromBorkum were taking an enforced holiday. Perhaps it was in sympathywith the "High Seas Fleet" skulking in the Kiel Canal. In any case,the six motor craft of the _Capella_ class had a full share of wintryconditions in the North Sea without any compensating adventures tomitigate the monotony.
As Eccles descended from the bridge, a great-coated muffled-up figure,followed by a large dog, swung himself up the ladder.
"Morning, Haye," was Noel Fox's salutation, as he stooped to pat Shrap,the chartered libertine of the _Capella_. "Dash it all, it is cold!Makes a fellow wish he were a sheep-dog. Here, Shrap, off you go andget your whiskers trimmed. I can see Tomkins waiting for you."
The dog needed no second order. Every morning just after eight bellsShrap would be taken over by the watch below. Every man took a delightin combing the animal's long hair, until Shrap's coat was the pride ofthe _Capella's_ crew and the envy of the rest of the flotilla, whosemascots never aspired to be more than a tame rat, parrot, or canary.
"Sail on the port bow, sir," bawled the look-out.
The Sub and the midshipman promptly levelled their telescopes. A smallcargo-steamer was pitching and rolling as she forged slowly ahead on awesterly course. Although she was fairly discernible against the palegrey of the eastern sky, it could be taken for granted that from theDutchman's bridge the neutral-grey-painted _Capella_ would bepractically invisible.
"She's slowing down," declared Vernon.
"What on earth for?" enquired the Sub. "She couldn't possibly havespotted us. Starboard your helm, quartermaster. Good! Keep her atthat. We'll get her to make her number,
if nothing else."
Again Noel Fox levelled his telescope. Then he thrust it into a rackon the side of the chart-room, and bellowed:
"Turn up, both watches. Action stations. Submarine ahead."
His quick glance had discerned the after part of a large unterseebootas she ranged alongside the Dutchman, whose high sides screened most ofthe submarine from the _Capella_, and conversely prevented the Germansclustered amidships from noticing the approach of the swift Britishpatrol-vessel.
For the next few minutes, all was bustle and orderly confusion on boardthe _Capella_. Taking three steps at a time, Captain Syllenger gainedthe bridge, closely followed by Eccles, to whom the sudden interruptionof a hearty breakfast came as a welcome call.
At a terrific pace the sleuth-hound of the sea tore towards the_Hoorn_, for such she was. Rounding under her squat counter, andreversing engines, the _Capella_ brought up within fifty yards of thesubmarine before the astonished Germans could realize their precariousplight.
"Surrender, or I sink you!" roared Captain Syllenger.
The grim muzzles of the _Capella's_ 4.7's, trained at a point-blankrange, were a conclusive argument. Without waiting for orders, themajority of the unterseeboot's crew held up their arms. For a briefinstant did her Kapitan hesitate.
"Me surrender," he replied.
"Very good; I accept your surrender," replied the _Capella's_ skipper."But understand, any attempt to open the sea-cocks will mean that noquarter will be given. Order all hands below, and leave the hatchwaysopen. You will oblige me by proceeding on board His Majesty's ship_Capella_."
By this time the _Hoorn_ was forging ahead, since she was in danger ofdrifting down upon the captured submarine. In the excitement of thecapture, no one on board noticed two grotesquely garbed men on the_Hoorn_ whose antics resembled those of a pair of demented creatures;nor was the presence of a couple of dejected German leutnants and fiveseamen, stranded on board the Dutchman, observed, as the Hunsfrantically besought the obdurate skipper of the _Hoorn_ to steam ashard as he could towards the Dutch coast.
It was Vernon Haye's duty to take the cutter and board the prize. Itwas a hazardous piece of work, for the sea was now fairly high, andbreaking under the effect of tide against wind; but, with the exceptionof a broken top-strake, the boat managed to lie sufficiently closealongside the submarine to enable the midshipman and five seamen toboard.
Already the German crew were below. Hatches were lowered and secured,with the exception of the one in the after side of the conning-tower.This could be left open without fear of the submarine being swamped,while, to prevent the captured crew closing it and making an attempt todive, the steel cover was removed from its hinges and secured on deck.The Black Cross flag was hauled down and rehoisted under the WhiteEnsign, and preparations were made to take the prize in tow.
It was some time before a grass rope, to which a stout wire hawser wasbent, could be veered from the _Capella's_ quarter and taken on boardthe submarine, but eventually the hawser was made fast.
"Now, sir," said Vernon, addressing the German Kapitan. "Will youplease step into that boat? Where are the other officers?"
"In that ship," replied the Hun sullenly, as he pointed towards the_Hoorn_. "They will not welcome you, but there are others who will."
Not knowing what the German meant, Vernon indicated that he should geton board the cutter.
"There are two German officers on board that vessel, air," reported themidshipman, as the boat came alongside the _Capella_. "Am I to bringthem off?"
Captain Syllenger hesitated before replying. It was a knotty problem.To remove by force the subjects of a hostile nation from a neutral shipwas contrary to international law. However much the Germans violatedthe "right of search", it was not Great Britain's policy to engage uponreprisals. Holland, although a third-rate Power, had to be treatedwith due courtesy.
"It's all the same in the long run," replied Captain Syllenger. "Boardthat vessel, Mr. Haye, and see what those fellows are doing there. Ifthe Dutch skipper objects to their presence on his hooker, then bundlethem into the boat. If, on the other hand, he protests against theirremoval, let them remain. They will be collared as soon as the shipenters our three-mile limit."
The _Hoorn_ had once more come to a dead stop, at two cables' lengthfrom the British patrol-vessel.
As the _Capella's_ cutter came alongside, Vernon agilely scrambled upthe "monkey ladder" and gained the deck.
"Hulloa, old man!" exclaimed a well-known voice.
Vernon looked at the speaker. He knew the voice, but for a moment hefailed to recognize in the oddly garbed youth his chum Ross Trefusis.Then he grinned broadly.
"My word!" he exclaimed. "You do cut a pretty figure."
Had they been of any nationality but British, the lads would havefallen on each other's necks and perhaps kissed each other. Instead,they stood a yard apart and laughed--but their mutual joy was none theless genuine.
"So you've come to fetch the German Leutnant and his boat's crew," saidRoss, after Haye had been introduced to the Flight-Sub. "He'ssomewhere below. You'll recognize him right enough."
"Eh?" asked Vernon incredulously.
"Rather!" declared Ross emphatically. "You'd never guess. It's ourold pal, Hermann Rix, late of U75. No wonder he's tearing his hair,for he must have broken his parole. He knew me directly he came overthe side, and didn't forget to rub it in. You should have seen hisface when, in the midst of his beastly gibes, the old _Capella_ camesnorting up."
With Jan acting as interpreter, Vernon put his case before the Dutchskipper, who seemed only too delighted at the way events had turned.His satisfaction at getting rid of his Hunnish visitors was evident, inspite of the stolidity of his manners.
"I want no pirates on board the _Hoorn_," he said. "Take them andwelcome!"
While the Flight-Sub and Ross were "squaring up" with the good-heartedJan, Vernon rounded up Ober-leutnant Rix and his boat's crew. Findingthat their protests to the Dutch skipper were of no avail, theysullenly gave in.
"Look here," said Ross, taking his chum aside. "I don't want to crowover that fellow. It isn't cricket. You might take him to the_Capella_ and come back for us. You'll have a pretty good load as itis."
"Two British officers, escaped from an internment camp, on board the_Hoorn_, sir," reported Vernon, as he delivered his cargo of Germanprisoners on board the _Capella_. "They would like to be taken off."
"Carry on, then," replied Captain Syllenger.
As the cutter returned from her second trip to the _Hoorn_, the_Capella's_ crew awaited with undisguised curiosity the arrival of themen who had contrived to escape from irksome detention in a neutralcountry.
Presently Shrap, who was sitting up on the quarterdeck, gave a bark ofdelight.
"Good old Shrap!" said Ross. "He knew me in spite of my rig-out."
"Blow me, if it ain't Mr. Trefusis!" exclaimed one of the men.
The next instant the first of three hearty cheers burst from thethroats of the crew, with whom Ross was a great favourite. TheDutchmen, too, joined in, to the accompaniment of a prolonged blastupon the _Hoorn's_ siren as she resumed her interrupted voyage.
"It's like being home again," declared Ross, after Captain Syllengerand the other officers had congratulated him. "But, I say, can anyonelend me a decent suit of togs?"