CHAPTER XII
The Code-book
Mr. William Porter--otherwise Ludwig Schoeffer, had taken readily tohis new surroundings on board the S.S. _West Barbican_. He made it ahabit to do so, wherever he was: at the Wilhelmstrasse, Berlin, or inSing Sing Prison, New York. He made a speciality of studying men andthings, and, in order to do so, he naturally came to close quarterswith the objects of his professional attention.
He had failed to prevent the shipment of the Brocklington Company'sconsignment of steelwork for the Kilba Protectorate. There remained achance of achieving his object while the steelwork was on the highseas; and to that end he had booked a passage in the _West Barbican_.
His primary idea was to sink the ship without loss of life. It mighthave been a new-born hesitation to take human life that actuated hisplans. During the war he had not been so scrupulous. Now, perchance,he looked upon murder and manslaughter in a different light. Orperhaps he was developing nerves and was afraid of falling into theclutches of the law, for he knew full well that, if he bungled, hisemployers in Germany would utterly repudiate him.
It might have been possible for him to place a delayed-action infernalmachine in the hold of the _West Barbican_ when she was loading up atBrocklington. But he had not an intimate knowledge of the constructionof the ship, and he feared to take drastic steps without being certainof his surroundings. Nor did he wish to immolate dozens of passengers.
The majority of the latter would be leaving the ship either at CapeTown or Durban, so their departure would ease the situation as far asthe remnants of his conscience were concerned.
He decided, therefore, to go as far as South Africa as a passenger onthe _West Barbican_. During the voyage he could obtain a goodknowledge of the ship's routine, and the accessibility or otherwise ofthe holds and bunkers. Then, before leaving the ship at Durban, hecould "plant" his high-explosive bomb and send the _West Barbican_ toher doom.
It was an easy matter to convey the explosives on board. The customsofficers at British ports are vigilant enough in connection withhomeward-bound passengers' baggage, but not so in the case of departingships. No one paid any attention to the dark-red, cloth-bound bookthat Mr. Porter carried under his arm. It never occurred to LudwigSchoeffer that it was hardly fair to a book to be carried so openly ona damp, foggy day.
Outwardly it was a book, but between the covers there were no leavesexcept dummy edges. In the recess thus formed was four pounds of veryhigh explosive, sufficient to blow a hole completely through the steelplating of a merchant-ship's hold. The explosive without a primer wascomparatively innocuous. It could be subjected to a severe blowwithout detonating; fire had no effect upon it, except that it wouldsmoulder without bursting into flame. But when mixed with a solutionof potash the latent power was instantly and terrifically released.
Until the bomb was prepared for action Schoeffer kept the glass tubecontaining the potash separate from the main explosive. If necessaryhe could easily explain the potash by saying it was medicine.
The detonation of the infernal machine was actuated by a fairly simpledevice. It was only necessary to smash the glass tube of potash; butthe point was: how could Schoeffer break the glass when he was awayfrom the ship?
If anyone had had an opportunity of inspecting Mr. Porter's watch hewould certainly have been interested; for, in addition to the hours,minutes, and seconds hands, the dial sported a hand that indicated thedays up to seven. But in place of numbers on the day circle there wereseven black dots. Each of these dots proved to be a small insulatedmetal peg, capable of being raised until it projected a fraction of aninch from the dial, yet sufficiently to hold up the hand.
To complete the outfit there was a small eight-volt battery, which, ona circuit being formed, would detonate a minute charge of explosive,enough to smash the glass tube, liberate the potash, and cause thedesired catastrophe. By means of the watch Schoeffer could delay theexplosion from one to seven days after he had set the bomb in position.
Mr. Porter made rapid strides in forming acquaintances on board. Hewas affable without being obtrusive; communicative up to a certainpoint, without volunteering information; a good conversationalistwithout boring his listeners. He took a keen interest in the officers,the stewards, and even the lascars, but, in the course of conversationwith them, he rarely if ever asked questions concerning theirprofessional duties.
One person in particular he cultivated. That was Wilkins, theCaptain's steward. Wilkins was a professional postage-stamp agent; hebought large quantities of stamps in foreign parts on behalf of aLondon firm. Mr. Porter was a keen amateur collector, and so a bond ofinterest was formed.
Since the facilities for encouraging conversation between passengersand stewards are limited, Schoeffer found a convenient opportunity toconfer with Wilkins on the subject of postage stamps. The opportunityoccurred just before "lights out", the venue being the pantry.
Schoeffer found that the subject of stamps afforded him a splendidchance of gaining information concerning the Old Man. He knew that theskipper kept the code-books in his cabin. Two of them--the _ABC_ andthe _Telegraph Code_--were practically public property, but the thirdwas the private code of the Blue Crescent Line, by which the ownerstelegraphed orders to their various ships.
The German agent made no attempt to suborn the steward to "borrow" thecode-book. He preferred to work single-handed. It was infinitelysafer. But he soon discovered that Captain Bullock was a light sleeperand that he was practically an abstainer from strong drink, except forhis regular "night-cap".
One night the chance occurred. Wilkins had mixed the Old Man's grog.His attention diverted for a minute, he was unaware that Mr. Porter haddropped into the glass a cube resembling sugar but containing apowerful narcotic quite devoid of taste.
"Well, sir," remarked Wilkins, "I must push off and take this to theskipper."
With this gentle intimation the steward speeded his guest. He hadreasons for so doing. He had no desire to let even an affablegentleman like Mr. Porter know that he was in the habit of helpinghimself to the Old Man's whisky.
A few minutes later Wilkins poured out another stiff glass of grog andcarried it to the skipper, leaving for his own consumption the glassthat Schoeffer had doped.
Ten minutes later the steward returned to the pantry, drunk thedoctored whisky, and spent the rest of the night in a state ofinsensibility, in which condition he was found and befriended by theChief Steward.
Returning to his cabin--a single-berth one on the port side--Schoefferclosed the deadlight and drew a curtain over the jalousied door. Attwelve the electric lights in the passengers' cabins were switched off,but that hardly troubled "Mr. Porter". An electric torch gave him allthe light he required.
Two bells sounded. Cautiously Schoeffer switched off the torch,undressed, and put on dark-coloured pyjamas and felt bedroom slippers.Then, after listening to hear that no one was about, he stole silentlyfrom his cabin.
He guessed that the officer of the watch would be drinking cocoa in thechartroom, and that the bridge would be deserted save for the nativequartermaster at the wheel. If he were intercepted, Schoeffer wouldpose as a somnambulist and suffer himself to be led back to his cabin.
But no one was about. Boldly yet stealthily he gained the bridge andentered the skipper's cabin, confident that the Old Man was in adrugged sleep. He would have had a nasty shock had he known thatCaptain Bullock was merely drowsy and was aware of his presence.
With the private code-book in his possession Schoeffer retraced his wayto his cabin. Luck was with him. Unseen and unheard he entered hisstateroom and closed the door. For the next two hours he was hard atwork carefully copying out cryptic letters, that in due course wouldenable him to carry out his nefarious plans to perfection. He alsocarefully committed to memory the instructions printed in the front ofthe book relating to the procedure to be followed in sending andreceiving instructions by code.
Again he sallied forth to the
Captain's cabin and replaced the book.What rather puzzled him was the fact that the Old Man was sleepingnaturally. His deep, regular breathing did not conform to thesuggestion that he was under the influence of a powerful drug.
It was a disquieting discovery. He could not account for it. Perhaps,he thought, Captain Bullock had something up his sleeve. Even thesatisfaction of having secured and made full use of the secretcode-book had much of its greatness shorn by the haunting dread of theburly captain of the S.S. _West Barbican_.