CHAPTER VIII
BORGA
A grey, northern day devoid of all sunshine; a forbidding, rock-boundcoast lost in a depressing mist; a flat, oily sea, as threatening tothe mariner as the mounting hillocks of storm-swept water; a dull senseof hopelessness prevailing upon the still air. All these things markedthe approach to Borga; for Nature was in a repellent mood, a thing ofrepugnance, of distrust and fear.
A long, low craft was approaching the gaping jaws which marked theentrance to the heart of the island, somewhere away in the distance,lost in the grey mists which seemed to envelop the whole land.
The deck was narrow, and guarded by a simple surrounding of low rails.Amidships was a curious construction which was at once the support ofthe periscope, the conning-tower, and the entrance to the interior ofthe vessel. Dotted about the deck were several sealed hatchways, andthe sheen of glassed skylights. The whole thing was colored to matchthe surrounding grey-green waters.
Two uniformed figures were standing for'ard in the bows. One of themwas beating the air with twin flags, one in each hand. The other stoodby contemplating the book in his hand, and at intervals scanning therepellent shore through a pair of binoculars.
Presently the signaller spoke.
"One, six, four, seven, nine, three, two," he said, reciting thecombination of numerals in German with the certainty of familiarity.
"One, six, four, seven, nine, three, two, it is," replied the observer,in a similar, ill-spoken tongue. "That's 'proceed,'" he added,referring to his book.
Forthwith the signaller produced a pocket telephone connected with theconning-tower by a long insulated "flex," and spoke over it. A momentlater the throb of engines made itself felt, and, in response, thespume broke on the vessel's cut-water, and left a frothing wake astern.
The vessel passed the mist-hooded granite headlands. It left thembehind, and itself became engulfed in the grey threat lying between theovershadowing heights towering upwards nearly five hundred feet towardsthe leaden sky.
The two men on deck gave no heed to their immediate surroundings. Theywere men of the sea, hard and unimaginative. They were concerned onlywith the safety of the vessel under them. They would drive her into thevery gates of Hell, if such were their orders. But they would avoid,with all their skill, the pitfalls by the way. They knew that thesecrets of this gloomy abode were many, as many perhaps as those of thevery Hades they would have been willing enough to face. They knew, too,that those secrets, just as the secrets of the other place, werecalculated to destroy them if they diverged one iota from the lawswhich governed the place. So they worked exactly, and took no chances.
The channel quickly began to narrow. The vast cliffs drew in upon themin their overpowering might. The barren shores were visible to thenaked eye, and the white line of heavy surf boomed and boomed again inits incessant attack upon the grim walls. Higher up small patches ofpine trees clung desperately to insecure root-holds, like the intrepidAlpini seeking to scale impossible heights.
A few minutes passed and a boat, a small petrol-driven vessel, likesome cockle-shell amidst its tremendous surroundings, shot out from theshore and raced towards them. It had a high, protected prow, and itsgreat speed threw up a pair of huge white wings of water till it hadsomething of the appearance of an enraged swan charging to the attackof an enemy. Again the signaller spoke over his telephone, and thevessel slowed down, and finally hove-to.
The patrol boat drew alongside. Two men, amidships, in oilskins, held abrief conversation with those on board the intruder. Then their vesselpassed ahead, and the bigger craft was left to amble leisurely along inits wake.
The cliffs had closed down till less than half a mile of water dividedthem. The narrow strip of leaden sky above looked pinched between them.For a mile and more ahead there was no change. The narrow passage, withits racing tide, was full of hidden dangers, not the least amongstwhich being a crowded mine-field which lined either side of the channel.
As the journey proceeded the gloom increased. Added to the naturalmists the atmosphere took on a yellow tint, which suggested anoverhanging pall of smoke. There was no joy in the aspect anywhere.
The end of the passage came at last, and the pilot boat dropped astern.Its work was finished, and it raced back to its watching-post.
Now a complete change came over the scene. But it was scarcely a changefor the better. It was only that Nature, having done her worst, leftthe rest in the safe hands of human ingenuity.
The frowning cliffs abandoned their threat. They ended as abruptly asthey had arisen out of the sea. They fell back on either hand, carryingthe shore with them, and merged into a mist-crowned hinterland of darkwoods and wide ravines, with a wide-stretching foreshore, upon whichwas built a great city, entirely surrounding what had developed into aminiature, landlocked sea.
Nature had certainly left her incomplete effort in capable hands.Whatever beauty a brilliant sunshine, accompanied by a smart breeze,might have discovered upon the inhospitable shores of Borga in theirpristine state, man's hand had contrived to destroy it. The wholeprospect was sordid, uncouth, and suggested something of a nether worldof lugubrious fancy. All that could be said for it was the suggestionof feverish industry on every hand. The buildings looked allunfinished, yet they were in full work under a great strain ofpressure. Borga had been built in a hurry, and all connected with itsuggested only haste and industry.
There were no public buildings of classic model. There were no roadsand avenues beautified by Nature's decorations. Just alleys andthoroughfares there were, and only sufficiently paved for the needs ofthe work in hand. The quays and docks were solid--only. The greatmachine shops, staring-eyed and baldly angular, suggested only thebarest necessity. And though their hundreds of floors shelteredthousands of human workers, and acres of elaborate machinery, not evena cornice, or coping, or variation of brickwork had been permitted tomake sightly a structure purely for utilitarian purposes. The slipwaysat the water's edge, and the gaunt steel skeletons they contained, weremerely slipways, without other pretensions. A thousand smokestacksbelched out of their fetid bowels an endless flow of yellow, sulphuroussmoke upon an already overladen atmosphere. They stood up like theteeth of a broken comb, and added to the sordidness of the picture.
A faint relief might have been found for the primitive mind in thenumberless blast furnaces to be detected on almost every hand by theirshooting tongues of flame. Like all else in Borga they never ceasedfrom their efforts. Theirs it was to give birth to an everlastingstream of molten metal with which to fill the crudely-wrought sandmoulds for the containing of pig-iron. The rolling mills, too, mighthave been not without effect. Those cavernous worlds of incessantclamor rolled the hours and days away, and took no count but of theoutput from their soulless wombs. The homes of the deep-noted steamhammers, and the fierce puddling furnaces, where men, bare to the skinexcept for a loin-cloth, with greased bodies, endure under showers offlying sparks and a heat which no other living creature would face.These sights were perhaps not without inspiration. But the sordidnessof it all, its crudity, its suggestion of hideous life were on everyhand; in the shrieking locomotives, with their tails of laden,protesting trucks; in the beer-drinking booths; in the vast heaps ofrubbish and waste lying about in every direction; even to the almostbestial type of man whose brain and muscle made such a waste ofindustry possible.
What Nature had left unfinished, man had surely completed for her.Borga was repellent. Its life was ugly. But ugliest of all was itspurpose.
Essen had been the greatest arsenal of all time. But since the birthand maturity of Borga it had become as a village compared to a capitalcity. Borga was the mechanical soul of an empire. It was the iron heartof an armored giant, upon which had been wantonly lavished all thementality and spiritual force of a nation bankrupt in every other humanfeeling.
The incoming vessel moved swiftly. Ahead lay a grey breakwater whichformed one wall of a small harbor. An open channel clear of allshipping indicated its purpose. It was ob
viously the officiallanding-place. However, if the channel remained clear it was lined oneither side by a swarm of naval craft, much of which was still in thehands of artificers; for here, no less than ashore, the din ofconstruction was going on and the busy hive remained true to itspurpose.
The men on deck remained indifferent to their surroundings. Familiarityleft them free to give undivided attention to their work. So the boatglided silently in between the pierheads, and, in five minutes, waslying against the landing-stage with a gangway run aboard.
Two men emerged from the conning-tower and stepped ashore, where asmall group of uniformed officers were waiting to receive them. PrinceStanislaus von Hertzwohl led the way, followed by a younger man, whoseface was full of a keen intelligence, while his dark eyes were those ofa dreamer. Both were dressed in the uniform of German naval officers, auniform which particularly seemed to suit the younger man's fair hair.
But the Prince in Borga was a different man from the inventordisplaying his models. Here he was an autocrat--an all-powerful, highofficer in the work of the place. Therefore, with a cold acknowledgmentof the salute of the junior officers, he passed them by and stepped upto a man of elevated military rank, who, in the haughty aloofness ofhis position, was standing well apart from the others.
The Prince addressed him with a cold sort of familiarity.
"Ha, Von Salzinger," he cried, "but you are a troublesome people here.You give us no peace. We are called to straighten out the muddles ofBorga when our time can be ill spared from our workshops. Let mepresent my nephew, who is responsible for this damnation light. HerrLeder von Bersac--the military governor of Borga, Captain-General vonSalzinger."
The two men acknowledged the presentation, and their eyes met in asteady, keen regard. Then the Prince went on--
"What is it, this light? Have your engineers no thoughts in their headsbut beer, or is it that they, like the asses, have grown long ears?Come, we will go at once. You can dismiss your ceremonial," he went on,indicating the group of officers. "I have no time for that. I am anengineer, as is my nephew. Besides, I must leave here within the hour.I must be in Berlin within two days and return to my works first.So----"
"Certainly, Excellency," replied the Captain-General, unbending beforethe man whom he believed through his genius to be the most powerfulinfluence in the country at the moment. "But I think the fault is notwith us--this time. No doubt Herr von Bersac will be able to set thematter right. But an hour is short."
"Ach, so," cried the Prince, with irritation. "Then do not delay. Leadus to the--place."
Herr von Bersac, watching the scene with his dreamy eyes, noted theattitude of the two men towards each other. His uncle's manner wassomething of a surprise to him. Nor could he help but realize theother's almost slavish deference, as, in response to the older man'sorder, he hastily moved off shorewards.
The Governor was a typical Teuton. The broad, square back of his headsurmounted a thick, fleshy neck. His blue eyes were deeply set in puffysockets. His cheeks were full, and the chin, below his bristlingmoustache, was square and strong. His whole appearance, in hisbrilliant uniform, was of cubist inspiration, and, in spite of his highrank, and the suggestion of grey about the temples of his close-croppedhead, he could not have been more than midway between thirty and forty.These things Herr von Bersac noted with almost unnecessary interest inspite of his abstracted air.
But Herr von Bersac had not had a monopoly of observation. While thePrince had been talking the military governor's small, quick eyes hadnot been idle. He had taken the nephew's measure to the last inch ofhis great height. Such observation was his habit as well as his duty.His position in the world's greatest secret arsenal demanded that everyvisitor must be regarded as a possible enemy until a due examination ofhis credentials proved him otherwise.
The Prince talked as they made their way to an execrable road bycrossing a narrow-gauge railway. They skirted piles of debris almost ashigh as some of the adjoining buildings. And the general impressionleft was one of carelessness for anything but the work going on.
"This place is the worst constructed in the world," he declared, as hestubbed a toe against a pile of broken concrete. "There is no system init. Where is the system for which we Germans are noted? It is gone,with many other things, since the war. We think so hard for thedownfall of our enemies that we have no time for all that system whichhas made our people the greatest in the world. Ach! I hate Borga. Ihate it more every time I make my visit."
Von Salzinger laughed in his heavy way.
"Ah, Excellency," he said, "the war has taught us many things. Wethought we knew it all. Through that very system which was so great wewasted much money and many years, for our enemies achieved almost allwhich we had in less than two years. Now we work against time. Ourobject now is no longer system, but--result."
"I am glad," observed the Prince with some acerbity. "You willunderstand then why I can give you only an hour."
"Yes, Excellency," deferred the other.
He had no desire to add to his visitor's obvious ill-humor. And therewere other reasons for his attitude than the mere fear of his power. Hedesired this man's personal favor. When war broke out in 1914, beforethe Prince had risen to his present power, he, Von Salzinger, had beenbrought into contact with his daughter Valita von Hertzwohl in the workof the Secret Service. It had fallen to his lot to endeavor to utilizeher in his country's service. That his efforts had failed was not hisonly disaster, for, failing to enlist her cooperation, he had achievedher displeasure with himself. And her displeasure had disturbed himmore than the other. He had fallen a victim to her charms in a mannerwhich made her displeasure something of a tragedy to his vanity. But hewas as vain as he was persevering, and with him effort was a continuousprocess, and not spasmodic.
The Prince hurried him through the wilderness of industry, and thehaughty military governor lost much of his dignity in the scurry, andin his effort to pay deferential attention to his visitor's incessantcomplaint. An overwhelming clanging of machinery, intensified by thedull thunderous boom of adjacent steam hammers, and the machine-gunrattle of the riveting hammers, made talk almost impossible.
Herr von Bersac no longer displayed the least interest in hiscompanions. Since he had dropped behind them, and was safe from VonSalzinger's observation, the dreaming had passed out of his dark eyes.They were alight with a keen interest, an interest almost excited, asthe wonders of the place revealed themselves to him. But the works andtheir busy life had less effect than other things. His whole mindseemed to be absorbed in the direction of the water, and the numberlessnaval craft lying at their moorings. And out of all these his searchingeyes selected one type, a type he could not miss, a type which seemedto be prevailing.
One of them lay so near inshore that he could observe its every detailof outward construction. It was a curious, ugly vessel of strangelyvicious type. He recognized it at once as of the submersible pattern ofthe vessel he had arrived at Borga in. But it was so huge. It washeavily armored, as it lay there in light draught, high out of water,and on its deck, in place of the simple conning-tower and surmountingperiscope, there was a central armored turret, while, fore and aft ofthis, two other turrets bristled, each with a pair of 12-inch guns. Hehad no time for a closer inspection as he was hurried along, but hemade a mental note that the vessel was a submarine dreadnought, andthat there were nearly fifty other such vessels lying about at theirmoorings.
He seemed fearful of concentrating his observation too long in any onedirection. A furtive backward glance from the Governor promptlydiverted his attention. It almost seemed that he had no desire toinvite Captain-General von Salzinger's regard. No doubt he felt that,though his uncle's nephew, he was still only admitted to Borga onsufferance.
Finally they approached a high-walled enclosure with closed gates, anda line of sentries guarding its entrance. Immediately he becameabsorbed in the German characters of the large printed notice on thegates. The notice was to the effect that all entrance to this plac
ewithout a Governor's permit was "verboten."
He became alert and watchful. Doubtless being the engineer responsiblefor the success of the new U-rays lamp he felt that he must no longerpermit his interest to wander. He watched the square figure of themilitary governor as he took the sentry's salute. He observed thejunior officer who promptly threw open one of the massive gates. Thenhis whole attention became absorbed in what he beheld as, with hiscompanion, he passed within the enclosure.
It was a large dock. And moored at each of its three sides was asubmarine dreadnought of even greater dimensions than the one he hadseen mounting 12-inch guns.
The Prince turned to him.
"This, my Leder, is the place where we deal with the things, the secretof which the world will never know, but the effects of which one dayour enemies will learn to dread."
He laughed with the satisfaction of anticipated triumph. Then, as Ledervon Bersac grunted out some unintelligible acquiescence, he turned tothe military governor with a shrug.
"Ach, what will you?" he cried, in apparent disgust. "He has nodelight, no appreciation for these things. He will think all day. Hewill work in his light-rooms till he is nearly blind. All for thedestruction of our enemies. But joy? He does not know it. If you tellhim his work has slain a million of the enemy he will say he can makeit kill more. Himmel! Such joy!"
Ludwig von Salzinger surveyed this enthusiastic product with curiouseyes. But he offered no comment, and the Prince hurried towards thegangway, and led the way aboard the nearest vessel.
At the steel doorway of the armored conning-tower he paused. His wholemanner abruptly changed to one of definite command.
"If there should be a defect we will have the light unshipped, and takeit back with us, Leder," he said decidedly. "You cannot work in thepandemonium of Borga. It is only fit for the Captain-General'sartillerymen, who have ears of leather and brains of mud." Then heturned upon Von Salzinger in a manner that permitted no doubt of hispurpose. "You doubtless have more pressing duties, HerrCaptain-General. Please do not consider us. Our work is technical, andwill have but little interest for you. Besides, my dear Leder may haveto examine those secrets of the U-rays which even your chief engineeris not admitted to. I thank you for conducting us hither. You willleave word for our safe departure at the gates."
His dismissal came as a shock to Von Salzinger. But more than anythinghis vanity was shocked. To feel that this man had the power to dismisshim, here in Borga, as he, Von Salzinger, might dismiss one of hisjunior officers, was infinitely galling. But even more intenselygalling was the thought that this boor of a nephew could calmly moveabout in Borga, penetrate its most secret workshops, and probe thesecrets which lay therein, while he--he, the military governor--wasordered about his business.
There was no help for it. Prince von Hertzwohl had given the order, andhe must obey as though the order had issued from the lips of the AllHigh War Lord. He bowed a short, square, resentful bow and stood asideto allow Von Bersac to enter the conning-tower. But the glance whichfollowed the tall athletic form of the engineer was no friendly one.
He must obey orders. Well, so must everybody who entered Borga--unlessthey were of higher rank than the military governor. This young mancould at least be put to the indignity of the inquisitorial process ofhis officials. And he knew how unpleasant their efforts could be made.He promised himself this trifling satisfaction, at least--when thePrince chanced to be out of the way. It was certainly his duty thatthis young man should go through the customary process which allvisitors at Borga were submitted to.
He left the deck of the dreadnought as the Prince and his _protege_vanished down the steel companionway, and passed out of the docks. Nordid he neglect to give the necessary orders for his visitors'departure. After that, however, he went straight to his headquarters.
Meanwhile the Prince, without the least hesitation, led his companionalong the steel passages, past the maze of machinery which formed thebowels of the dreadnought. At the extreme peak of the vessel wassituated the light-room of the U-rays, where they found four engineersat work.
The men saluted and stood by when they realized the identity of theirvisitors, and the work of examining the mechanism of the wonderful newsubmarine light at once began.
Von Bersac took small enough part in it. The Prince at once became theengineer. The skill and deftness, and the knowledge he displayed wereincomparable. He talked the whole time he was examining, finding faulthere, praising there, and all his talk was addressed to his nephew asthough he were the final authority. Von Bersac remained theunenthusiastic creature he had appeared before Von Salzinger, and keptto his attitude of disjointed grunts. But his eyes were alert andapparently comprehending, and when, in imitation of the other, heexamined any detail, there was a disarming conviction about all hismovements. Finally they tested the light, and, after a number of tests,the Prince threw up his hands in a gesture of almost ludicrous despair.
"Ach, Leder," he cried, "it is not the fault of these good fellows. Itis yours--yours and mine. It is a month's delay at least, is it not so?"
Von Bersac silently acquiesced.
"A month of most valuable time," the Prince went on. "See here," hecried, and went off into a world of technicalities beyond even thecomprehension of the skilled engineers present. "It is to beregretted," he finished up despairingly. "It must be taken down, andsent back to us. But these, these,"--he laid his hands on two portionsof the delicate mechanism enclosed in polished brass cylinders, throughwhich the insulated cables passed--"we will take these with us. Theycan be trusted in no other hands." He turned to the chief engineer."Take these out without delay. Herr von Bersac will wait for them, andconvey them to my ship. There will be no difficulty. Sever the cableshere, and here," he added, indicating spots which the engineer chalkedwhere he was to cut them. "Do not let any one handle them when they aredown, Leder. Bring them yourself."
The tall figure of the Prince departed, and Leder von Bersac remainedwhile the engineers carried out the work.
It was quite simple. There was no difficulty. The Prince had madecertain of this before he left his nephew to wait for the twocylinders. But the men worked with great care, for they knew that inthose two simple brass casings lay the vital secrets which were totransform the submarine dreadnoughts from lumbering, groping seamonsters into live, active, vicious creatures of offense.
It was just within the hour when Leder von Bersac passed out of thedockyard gates bearing the two brass cylinders in his arms, andreceived the salutes of the sentries. He remembered the method withwhich the Captain-General had received them, and responded in similarfashion.
He passed on hurriedly in the direction of the landing-stage. Twentyyards from the dock gates an expression of doubt crept into his eyes,as he caught sight of a military officer hurrying towards him from thedirection of what looked like a miniature fortress.
However, he gave no sign. He continued his way. He could already seethe grey wall of the harbor ahead. But the man was rapidly overhaulinghim, and, in Von Bersac's mind, a calculation was going on as towhether he could reach his uncle's vessel before the officer came upwith him.
This calculation, however, did not prove to his satisfaction. He knewhe would be intercepted before he reached his destination. And thethought strangely disturbed him.
Just as he was about to step on to the landing-stage the officerreached his side and saluted.
He spoke at once, and though his manner was perfectly deferential, itwas quite decided.
"Will Herr von Bersac favor the Captain-General with a visit at hisheadquarters before leaving? The Captain-General requests that he willmake it convenient--at once. It is the formal matter of registering hisvisit to Borga."
The dark eyes of the tall engineer dwelt for a moment upon the immobilefeatures of the man before him. He saw the authority of the militarygovernor in the whole swaggering pose of the man, and, for a moment,his firm lips tightened. Then, as though by a great effort, overcominghis reluctance for the w
aste of words, he displayed an almostunexpected urbanity.
"It will give me very great pleasure to wait upon theCaptain-General--at once," he replied. "It will be necessary, however,for me to deposit these in our vessel--in safety--before I do so." Heindicated the cylinders. "You will understand when I assure you theyare the most vital portions of our U-rays light. Perhaps you will favorme with your company as far as the vessel?"
The officer's pose underwent a slight change. His manner became evenless deferential.
"My orders are--at once," he objected.
Von Bersac's manner remained the same, but his dark eyes lookedstraight into the other's.
"Quite so. Doubtless my uncle, Prince von Hertzwohl, will exonerate youfor the brief delay. He is on the boat at this moment."
The words were well calculated. The engineer had thought rapidly andmade his decision with lightning celerity. He knew that he must reachthe vessel lying less than one hundred yards away.
He had his reward, and a slight sigh of relief escaped him. Themilitary insolence had left the other's manner. The mention of thePrince's name had created a modified atmosphere. After all he was amere Prussian officer accustomed all his life to yielding to authority.He, like every one else in Borga, knew that even the military governormust yield to the authority of the Prince. Therefore he yielded.
"It will give me the greatest pleasure to--accompany you," he said.