CHAPTER VII
CAUGHT!
The events of that memorable night formed a most emphatic contradictionto the prophecy in Macaulay's "Armada":
"Such night in England ne'er had been, nor e'er again shall be."
The speeches in the House of Commons and in the House of Peers werebeing printed even as they were spoken; hundreds of printing-presseswere grinding out millions of copies of newspapers. Thousands ofnewsboys were running along the pavements, or with great bags of neweditions slung on their shoulders tearing through the traffic onbicycles; but all the speeches in the two Houses of Parliament, all thereports and hurriedly-written leaders in the papers just represented tothe popular mind one word, and that word was war.
It was true that for over a hundred years no year had passed in whichthe British Empire had not been engaged in a war of some kind, but theywere wars waged somewhere in the outlands of the earth. To thestop-at-home man in the street they were rather more matters of latitudeand longitude than battle, murder, and sudden death. The South AfricanWar, and even the terrible struggle between Russia and Japan, werealready memories drifting out of sight in the rush of the headlongcurrent of twentieth-century life.
But this was quite another matter; here was war--not war that was beingwaged thousands of miles away in another hemisphere or on another sideof the globe--but war within twenty-one miles of English land--withintwo or three hours, as it were, of every Englishman's front door.
This went home to every man who had a home, or who possessed anythingworth living for. It was not now a case of sending soldiers, militia andyeomanry away in transports, and cheering them as they went. Not now, asKipling too truly had said of the fight for South Africa:
"When your strong men cheered in their millions, while your striplings went to the war."
Now it was the turn of the strong men; the turn of every man who had thestrength and courage to fight in defence of all that was nearest anddearest to him.
As yet there was no excitement. At every theatre and every music-hall inLondon and the great provincial cities and towns, the performances werestopped as soon as the news was received by telegraph. The managers readthe news from the stage, the orchestras played the first bar of theNational Anthem, the audiences rose to their feet, and all over theBritish Islands millions of voices sang "God save the King," and then,obeying some impulse, which seemed to have inspired the whole land,burst into the triumphant psalm of "Rule Britannia."
And when the theatres and music-halls closed, men and women went ontheir way home quietly discussing the tremendous tidings which had beenofficially announced. There was no attempt at demonstration, there wasvery little cheering. It was too serious a matter for that. The men andwomen of Britain were thinking, not about what they should say, butabout what they should do. There was no time for shouting, forto-morrow, perhaps even to-night, the guns would be talking--"Thedrumming guns which have no doubts."
The House rose at half-past eleven, and at ten minutes to twelveLieutenant Denis Castellan, came into the smoking-room of the Keppel'sHead Hotel, Portsmouth, with a copy of the last edition of the _SouthernEvening News_ in his hand, and said to Captain Erskine:
"It's all right, my boy. It's war, and you've got the _Ithuriel_. Yourown ship, too. Designer, creator, captain; and I'm your First Luff."
"I think that's about good enough for a bottle of the best, Castellan,"said Erskine, in the quiet tone in which the officer of the finestService in the world always speaks. "Touch the button, will you?"
As Denis Castellan put his finger on the button of the electric bell, aman got up from an armchair on the opposite side of the room, and said,as he came towards the table at which Erskine was sitting:
"You will pardon me, I hope, if I introduce myself without the usualformalities. My name is Gilbert Lennard."
"Then, I take it, you're the man who swam that race with my brotherJohn, in Clifden Bay, when Miss Parmenter was thrown out of her skiff.But he's no brother of mine now. He's sold himself to the Germans, and,"he continued, suddenly lowering his voice almost to a whisper, "come upto my room, we'll have the bottle there, and Mr Lennard will join us.Yes, waiter, you can take it up to No. 24, we can't talk here," he wenton in a louder tone. "There's a German spy in the room, and by the piperthat was supposed to play before Moses, if he's here when I come back,I'll throw him out."
Everyone in the smoking-room looked up. Castellan walked out, looking ata fair-haired, clean-shaven little man, sitting at a table in theright-hand corner of the room from the door. He also looked up, andglanced vacantly about the room; then as the three went out, he took asip of the whisky and soda beside him, and looked back on to the paperthat he was reading.
"Who's that chap?" asked Erskine, as they went upstairs.
"I'll tell you when we're a bit more to ourselves," replied Castellan;and when they had got into his sitting-room, and the waiter had broughtthe wine, he locked the door, and said:
"That is Staff-Captain Count Karl von Eckstein, of the German ImperialNavy, and also of His Majesty, the Kaiser's, Secret Service. He knows alittle more than we do about every dockyard and fort on the South Coast,to say nothing of the ships. That's his district, and thanks to the mostobliging kindness of the British authorities he has made very good useof it."
"But, surely," exclaimed Lennard, "now that there is a state of war,such a man as that could be arrested."
"Faith," said Denis Castellan, as he filled the glasses. "Law or no law,he will be arrested to-night if he stops here long enough for me to layhands upon him. Now then, what's the news, Mr Lennard? I'm told thatyou've just come back from the United States, what's the opinion ofthings over there?"
Such news that Lennard had was, of course, even more terrible than thenews of war and invasion, which was now thrilling through England likean electric shock, and he kept it to himself, thinking quite rightlythat the people of England had quite enough to occupy their attentionfor the immediate present, and so he replied as he raised the glasswhich Denis had filled for him:
"I am afraid that I have no news except this: that from all I have heardin the States, if it does come to death-grips, the States will be withus. But you see, of course, that I have only just got back, and thisthing has been sprung on us so suddenly. In fact, it was only thismorning that we got an aerogram from the Lizard as we came up Channel tosay that war was almost a certainty, and advising us to get intoSouthampton as soon as we could."
"Well," said Erskine, taking up his glass, "that's all right, as far asit goes. I've always believed that it's all rot saying that blood isn'tthicker than water. It is. Of course, relations quarrel more than otherpeople do, but it's only over domestic matters. Let an outsider start arow, and he very soon sees what happens, and that's what I believe ourfriends on the other side of the Channel are going to find out if itcomes to extremities. Well, Mr Lennard, I am very pleased that you haveintroduced yourself to us to-night. Of course, we have both known youpublicly, and therefore we have all the more pleasure in knowing youprivately."
"Thanks," replied Lennard, putting his hand into the inside pocket ofhis coat and taking out an envelope. "But to be quite candid with you,although of course I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, I didnot introduce myself to you and Mr Castellan only for personal reasons.I have devoted some attention to the higher chemistry as well as thehigher mathematics and astronomy, and I have also had the pleasure ofgoing through the designs of the cruiser which you have invented, andwhich you are now to command. I have been greatly interested in them,and for that reason I think that this may interest you. I brought ithere in the hope of meeting you, as I knew that your ship was lyinghere."
Erskine opened the envelope, and took out a sheet of notepaper, on whichwere written just a few chemical formulae and about forty words.
Castellan, who was watching him keenly, for the first time since theyhad sailed together through stress and storm under the White Ensign, sawhim start. The pupils of his eyes s
uddenly dilated; his eyelids andeyebrows went up for an instant and came down again, and the rigid calmof the British Naval Officer came back. He put the letter into his hippocket, buttoned it up, and said, very quietly:
"Thank you, Mr Lennard. You have done me a very great personal service,and your country a greater one still. I shall, of course, make use ofthis. I am afraid if you had sent it to the Ordnance Department youwouldn't have heard anything about it for the next three months or more;perhaps not till the war was over."
"And that is just why I brought it to you," laughed Lennard. "Well,here's good luck to you and the _Ithuriel_, and all honour, and God savethe King!"
"God save the King!" repeated Erskine and Castellan, with that note ofseriousness in their tone which you can hear in the voice of no man whohas not fought, or is not going to fight; in short, to put his wordsinto action.
They emptied their glasses, and as they put them down on the tableagain there came a knock at the door, sharp, almost imperative.
"Come in," said Erskine.
The head waiter threw the door open, and a Naval messenger walked in,saluted, handed Erskine an official envelope, and said:
"Immediately, sir. The steam pinnace is down at the end of the RailwayQuay."
Erskine tore open the envelope and read the brief order that itcontained, and said:
"Very good. We shall be on board in ten minutes."
The messenger, who was a very useful-looking specimen of the handy man,saluted and left the room. Castellan ran out after him, and they wentdownstairs together. At the door of the hotel the messenger put twofingers into his mouth, and gave three soft whistles, not unlike thesounds of a boatswain's pipe. In two minutes a dozen bluejackets hadappeared from nowhere, and just as a matter of formality were asked tohave a drink at the bar. Meanwhile Denis Castellan had gone into thesmoking-room, where he found the sandy-haired, blue-eyed man stillsitting at his table in the corner, smoking his cigar, and looking overthe paper. He touched him on the shoulder and whispered, in perfectlyidiomatic German:
"I thought you were a cleverer man than that, Count. Didn't I give you awarning? God's thunder, man. You ought to have been miles away by thistime; haven't you a motor that would take you to Southampton in an hour,and put you on the last of the German liners that's leaving? You know itwill be a shooting or a hanging matter if you're caught here. Come onnow. My name's Castellan, and that should be good enough for you. Comeon, now, and I'll see you safe."
The name of Castellan was already well known to every Germanconfidential agent, though it was not known that John Castellan had abrother who was a Lieutenant in the British Navy.
Captain Count Karl von Eckstein got up, and took his hat down from thepegs, pulled on his gloves, and said deliberately:
"I am very much obliged to you, Mr Castellan, for your warning, which Iought to have taken at first, but I hope there is still time. I will goand telephone for my motor at once."
"Yes, come along and do it," said Castellan, catching him by the arm."You haven't much time to lose, I can tell you."
They went out of the smoking-room, turned to the left, and went into thehall. Then Castellan snatched his hand away from Eckstein's arm, tookhim by the shoulders, and pitched him forward into the middle of thesemicircle of bluejackets, who were waiting for him, saying:
"That's your man, boys. Take him down to the pinnace, and put him onboard. I'll take the consequences, and I think the owners will, too,when they know the facts."
Von Eckstein tried to shout, but a hand about half the size of ashoulder of mutton came down hard over his mouth and nose. Other hands,with grips like vices, picked him off his feet, and out he went, halfstifled, along the yard, and up to the Railway Pier.
"Rather summary proceedings, weren't they, Castellan?"
Denis drew himself up, formally saluted his superior officer, and said,with a curious mixture of fun and seriousness in his voice:
"That man's the most dangerous German spy in the South of England, sir,and all's fair in war and the other thing. We've got him. In half anhour he'd have been aboard a fast yacht he's got here in the harbour,and across to Dieppe, with a portmanteau full of plans and photographsof our forts that would be worth millions in men and money to the peoplewe've got to fight. I can't say it here, but you know why I know."
Captain Erskine nodded, and did his best to conceal an unofficial smile.
"That's right, Castellan," he said. "I'll take your word for it. Getthat chap on board, lads, as quick as you can. We'll follow at once."
Ship's Corporal Sandy M'Grath, the huge Scotsman, whose great fist hadstifled Count von Eckstein's attempt to cry out, touched his cap andsaid: "Awa' wi' him, boys," and out they went at a run. Then Erskineturned to Lennard, and said:
"We can do all this that you've given me on board the _Ithuriel_. Itisn't quite regular, but in consideration of this, if you like to take acruise, and see your own work done, I'll take the responsibility ofinviting you, only mind, there will probably be some fighting."
Even as he spoke two deep dull bangs shook the atmosphere and thewindows of the hotel shivered in their frames.
"I'll come," said Lennard. "They seem to have begun already."
"Begorra they have," said Denis Castellan, making a dash to the door."Come on. If that's so, there'll be blood for supper to-night, and thesooner we're aboard the better."
The next moment the three were outside, and sprinting for the end of theRailway Pier for all they were worth.