CHAPTER XVI.
THE FLOORING OF MR. MCNAB.
PROMPTLY discharged from hospital, Terence was given six days'leave--a period which he spent with his parent.
He thoroughly appreciated the brief spell of leisure. It was simplygreat to be able to turn in at night and sleep soundly till seveno'clock the next morning. There was no insistent voice of themessenger: "Please, sir, it's ten minutes to four, and your cocoa'sready;" no watch upon an exposed bridge in the cold dark hours of awinter's morning; no monotonous round of ship routine with theconstant menace of being bumped upon a mine.
Yet, in a way, he was glad when his leave was up. The call of duty inBritain's time of peril was too urgent. He felt he must be doingsomething. Even his well-earned leave savoured of "slacking."
On the afternoon of the last day of his holiday Terence received hisorder from the Admiralty to proceed to Whale Island for a secondgunnery course. Somewhat to his mother's and his aunt's consternationhe executed a war-dance round the drawing-room, to the imminent perilof Miss Wilson's objects of art, with which the room was certainlyovercrowded. "A short gunnery course." He took it that that meantanother step to the height of his ambition. If he came through thatwith flying colours he concluded that he would be sent to either abattleship or a cruiser. There could be, he reasoned, no object inputting a Reserve officer through the mysteries of _heavy_-gun drillif he were to continue to serve in an armed merchantman, whoseheaviest ordnance consisted of the comparatively small 4.7-in. gun orthe 6-in. at the very outside.
On the other hand, in spite of his experience as officer of the watchon the "Strongbow" and "Terrier" he would be of little use aswatch-keeping officer on a battleship or cruiser in company. He hadno training in the delicate art of station-keeping, whereby lines ofhuge ships keep their respective distances with mathematical nicety,which can only be acquired by years of experience.
Yet that troubled him but little. So long as he had a chance ofsmelling powder under anything approaching equal conditions he wouldbe content. Rather selfishly he hoped that the German fleet wouldskulk in Wilhelmshaven Harbour or in the Kiel Canal until the timethat he found himself on board one of the battleships or big cruisersof the Grand Fleet.
So with a brand new kit--for he had lost practically all his gearwhen the "Terrier" made her plunge--Terence reported himself at WhaleIsland--the principal gunnery establishment of the British Empire,nay, of the whole world--an artificial island, constructed by meansof earth excavated from the huge basin of Portsmouth Dockyard.
Officially Whale Island is a ship, appearing in all official navaldocuments as H.M.S. "Excellent." It boasts of a "Quarter-Deck;" shiproutine is carried out almost as faithfully as if the severalthousand men were really afloat instead of being quartered inbarracks. There are spacious parade grounds, diving-tank forinstructing embryo seaman-divers, workshops, and, in the adjoiningPortsea Island, a rifle-range; but all these give precedence to thegun-batteries.
Almost the whole of the western side of the island is occupied by along, low building designated the heavy-gun battery. Here types ofguns, from the monstrous 15-in. downwards, are mounted under similarconditions to those on shipboard, and used solely for the instructionof officers and men. Even the "heave" of a ship in a seaway isallowed for, since some of the ordnance are mounted on "rollingplatforms" designed to make a seaman gunner in training accustomed tothe motion of a vessel under way.
Terence entered into his duties with the keenest zest. His ready mindquickly grasped the points raised by the instructor. Difficultiesthat proved well-nigh insurmountable to several of the class, heovercame with an ease which astonished both his mentor and himself,and at the end of the period of training he was the proud possessorof a first-class certificate signed by the captain of the ship.
Thus it came as a slight disappointment when Terence received ordersto proceed to Rosyth to join H.M. torpedo-boat-destroyer,"Livingstone." Still, it was a step in the right direction, the sub.agreed, and that was something to be thankful for.
The "Livingstone" was a modern craft of 965 tons, carried three 4-in.guns, and was propelled by turbine machinery, steam being raisedexclusively by oil fuel. It was one of the flotillas whose duty layin patrolling the easternmost limits of the North Sea, so as to be inreadiness to report the German High Sea Fleet should, in a rashmoment, the Kaiser or his minion Tirpitz give the order for it torisk annihilation at the hands of Admiral Jellicoe's waiting seamen.
Every alternate fortnight the flotilla to which the "Livingstone"belonged proceeded to take its spell of arduous duty. The interveningperiod it spent in harbour, giving the crew a well-earned rest.
Terence joined his new ship on the second day of his return. Theofficers, all young men full of spirits and on excellent terms witheach other, were busy planning how they were to spend the next fewdays of comparative leisure. As usual the subject of the war washardly mentioned. After days of strenuous watching and waiting, withthe waves constantly sweeping the battened down decks, they were onlytoo glad to discuss matters other than "shop"--since the German fleetshowed no sign of leaving its lair.
"We're off to Tuilabrail to-morrow, Aubyn," announced theengineer-lieutenant. "You'll come too, I hope. McNab has issued ageneral invitation to the officers of the flotilla."
"Who's Mr. McNab?" asked Terence.
"Oh, don't you know? I've forgotten it's your first time at Rosyth.McNab is the laird of Tuilabrail--quite a swagger place, not far fromSt. Margeret's Hope. There's plenty of sport--shooting and fishing,and all that, you know."
"'Fraid I'm not much of a hand with a sporting gun," remarkedTerence. "Last time I tried I made an awful ass of myself."
"Fire away and let's have the yarn, old fellow," said a sub., ascordially as if he had known Aubyn all his life.
"There's not much to tell," replied Terence. "It was while I wasstaying at a farm in Devonshire. The farmer asked me to go outrabbit-shooting. It was tame work bolting the poor little beasts withferrets and bowling them over at twenty yards. Well, we were workinga hedge, set in a bank literally honeycombed with rabbit-holes. Theold farmer told me where to stand and cautioned me to let ripdirectly I saw the rabbit, as there was plenty of cover about.
"I waited for perhaps five minutes. Then something dashed out of thehedge like greased lightning. I pulled the trigger and----"
"Peppered the farmer?" hazarded the engineer-lieutenant.
"No, bowled over a fox. Shot the brute dead as a door-nail."
"You rotten sport!" exclaimed several of his listeners.
"Try your luck again," said the lieutenant. "Have you a gun? If not,I'll lend you one--it's a good one, I can assure you."
So it was arranged that half a dozen officers, including Aubyn,should go over to Tuilabrail on the following morning and have lunchwith the hospitable Mr. McNab.
"Who is this Mr. McNab?" asked Terence.
No one seemed to know exactly. He had only recently rentedTuilabrail. Some one said that he had heard that McNab was a wealthymanufacturer from the Lowlands, who had been obliged to retire earlyon account of bad health, but amongst the officers there was ageneral opinion that he was a real good old sport.
The sub.'s first night on board a destroyer soon enabled him torealize that there is a great difference between cruising in an armedmerchantman and serving with a flotilla.
He was officer of the Middle Watch. The "Livingstone" and herconsorts, although supposed to be stationed at Rosyth during thefortnight, were anchored far up the Firth of Forth, ready at amoment's notice to steam out into the North Sea should there be a"wireless" announcing that the German fleet was at last about to riskThe Day.
From where the "Livingstone" lay, save for the anchor lamps of theflotilla, not a light was visible. Culross and Kincardine on thenorth shore and Grangemouth and Boness on the south shore of theForth might have been non-existent as far as sound and visibilitywere concerned.
It was a raw, misty night, with a keen easterly wind blowing in fromthe N
orth Sea. With the wind against the strong ebb tide the sea wasflecked with "white horses" that slapped viciously against the sternof the destroyer. Overhead the insulated stays of the wireless aerialmoaned fitfully in the blast.
"Boat ahoy!" The hail came from a seaman stationed aft. He had beenindulging in a surreptitious "few puffs" under the lee of the after4-in. gun, and in a fateful moment had been trying to light hisrefractory pipe when a red, white, and green steaming light withintwenty yards of the destroyer aroused him into super-activity.
"Guard-boat!" shouted a gruff voice, intensified by means of amegaphone.
"Guard-boat, sir!" repeated the lookout for the sub.'s information.
Accompanied by the quartermaster Terence hurried to the side, thereto find a dark grey launch, her outlines barely visible against theleaden-coloured white-flecked sea.
From a diminutive cabin aft, the yellow flicker of a lantern feeblyilluminated the bronzed features of an officer muffled in oilskinsand sou'-wester.
"Night guard!" announced the officer, without any superfluity ofspeech. "All correct?"
"All correct, sir," replied the quartermaster.
"P'raps," rejoined the officer of the night guard sourly. Making aten-mile round in a wet launch in the small hours of a winter'smorning tended to make him short-tempered. "Where's the officer ofthe watch?"
"Here, sir," replied Terence.
"Very good. You might warn your lookout to lookout a little moresmartly, and not wait until we were alongside your quarter. Where thedickens would you be now, do you suppose, if it had been a Germantorpedo-boat? It's not unlikely, you know. Good-night."
"Good-night, sir," replied Aubyn.
The officer of the night guard closed the door of the cabin on theunprotected light. In the engine-room a bell clanged, the artificerstarted the engines to half-speed ahead and in ten seconds the launchwas lost in the darkness.
Aubyn remained peering out into the night. He could just distinguishthe hail of the destroyer next ahead, followed by the reassuring"Guard-boat."
The luckless lookout man stood at attention awaiting the sub.'spleasure, and trying to forecast the punishment he would receive onthe following morning when his offence was entered in the captain'sdefaulters' list. He uttered silent maledictions on the damp "navyplug" that had distracted his attention for a few critical seconds.In addition he was to go "on leaf" on the following day: his littlelapse would assuredly "knock the bottom out of that caboodle."
"Well, what have you to say?" asked the sub.
"Nothin', sir; I was properly caught napping," replied the seaman. Hewas not going to attempt to bluff his officer by a feeble excuse. Hewas too much of a man for that: he would "go through the mill" with agood grace.
"You were smoking?"
"Yes, sir. I turned to loo'ard to light my pipe, an' that done it."
"Listen, my man," said Aubyn. "I'll not place you in the captain'sreport this time. Let this be a warning to you--and be more carefulin the future."
The man saluted and returned to his duty. He was agreeably surprised.
"He's a real jonnick," he muttered. "Sort of chap as 'as got someregard for a bloomin' matloe who gets a bit adrift. If ever I gets achance to repay him I jolly well will, or my name's not Jim Stairs."
After morning Divisions Terence went ashore in company with the otherofficers who were to make up the party to visit McNab. Some werearmed with fishing-rods, others with guns, and some with both. Allwere in excellent spirits, and evidently determined to "letthemselves go."
A picquet boat took them to Culross, where their host's palatial carawaited them. After an all too short run Terence found himself atTuilabrail Hall.
The house, standing high and surrounded by spacious, well-keptgrounds, enjoyed an uninterrupted panoramic view of the Firth ofForth. The Forth Bridge, the Grand Fleet lying off Rosyth, andnewly-constructed basins and workshops of the Scottish Portsmouthwere within easy range of vision, while, by the aid of a telescopeGrangemouth, Queensferry, Edinburgh, and Leith could be seen.
This much Terence noticed as he waited under the portico while thevarious members of the party were handing their sporting gear over tothe charge of a grave and dignified manservant. Then, escorted by aliveried footman, the guests were shown into the McNab'smorning-room.
"Our host has evidently overslept himself," remarked Gilroy, thelieutenant who had offered to lend Terence a sporting-gun and hadfaithfully kept his word. Gilroy was a young, pleasant-faced man oftwenty-eight, with three thousand a year, and capable of obtainingany amount of influence. Yet, although he had more than once beenoffered a job on one of the Royal Yachts, he had voluntarilypreferred to endure the obvious discomforts of a destroyer. "Lookhere, you fellows, I'll introduce Aubyn when the laird puts in anappearance. Don't be bashful, my boy; he's quite a free-and-easychap. No bally stand on ceremony, you know."
"He's a lucky man to have a swagger show like this," declared theengineer-lieutenant, who, being without private means and newlymarried, found it a hard task to make both ends meet on his Servicepay and allowances. "What a decent view. Look, there's abattle-cruiser arriving."
The officers crowded to the window. A long, three-funnelledbattle-cruiser, mounting eight large guns and apparently brand new,for there were patches of red-lead showing on her lofty sides, hadjust picked up a mooring-buoy.
"Must be the 'Tiger,'" suggested Gilroy. "I heard she was expectedround, but I didn't think she would put in an appearance so soon. ByJove, if the Germans pluck up courage to attempt another Scarboroughbusiness, they'll have something to reckon with."
"More than likely----" began another sub., but a hurried footstep inthe corridor warned the guests that their host was about to enter.
The McNab came into the room with an impetuous rush. Being a long andsomewhat narrow apartment, and the door being close to one angle, hehad some distance to traverse to where the officers stood with theirbacks to the window. As he strode he seemed to be peering eagerly, asif to discern the faces of the guests as they stood silhouettedagainst the light.
"Good morning, gentlemen," he exclaimed in slow, measured tones thatcontrasted with his hurried arrival. "I'm sorry to have kept youwaiting."
"Not at all," replied Gilroy easily. "Acting on your open invitationwe've brought a brother-officer along: Mr. Aubyn--the McNab."
Terence made a step forward. His jaw was tightly set, his face palein spite of his tanned complexion. He made no attempt to grasp theoutstretched hand of the tenant of Tuilabrail, but kept his armsclose to his side with his fists firmly clenched.
For a moment the McNab stood with a look of surprise upon his face.Then his smile of welcome changed into a venomous look. His hand flewto his pocket.
"_Crash!_"
With a swift and powerful left-hander Terence's fist shot forward,caught the man full in the centre of the chest and sent him reeling.The next instant Aubyn's brother-officers were astounded to see theirhost prostrate on his back with his arms and legs beating a tattoo onthe carpet, while the sub. sat on his chest.
"Are you mad, man?" demanded Gilroy, laying his hand on the sub.'sshoulder. The apparently meaningless attack by the officer to whom hestood sponsor--an outrage upon a man in the sanctity of hishome--could only be the outcome of the frenzy of a disordered mind.
"Far from it," replied Terence. "You fellows might bear a hand andsecure Major von Eckenhardt."
"Von Eckenhardt!" echoed the engineer-commander. "Impossible."
For the name of von Eckenhardt, the master-spy, was only too wellknown in naval circles. It was generally acknowledged that more thanone carefully-planned "scoop" had gone awry owing to warningsreceived by the German Admiralty from the elusive secret agent.
"Are you Major Karl von Eckenhardt?" demanded Gilroy, after theofficers had set the man upon his feet again.
"Absolutely a mistake. I did not know until a few moments ago that Ihad a double whose misdoings would be to my detriment," replied theMcNab, speaking with difficulty, fo
r the effect of the blow he hadreceived had wellnigh deprived him of breath.
Gilroy and his companions looked enquiringly at Aubyn. Perhaps, afterall, the sub. had made a mistake?
"Under the circumstances, although Mr. Aubyn has shown mistaken zealfor the Service," continued the McNab, "I am willing to forgive theoutrage, and no doubt Mr. Aubyn will tender an apology. There thematter will end as far as I am concerned. If you'll excuse me,gentlemen, I will go and remove the traces of your zealous friend'ssuper-abundant energy."
Alarmed by the crash upon the floor three menservants had hurriedinto the room. There they stood like automatons, each man concealingunder a wooden-like expression a burning curiosity to know what hadhappened to their master.
"Don't let him go: watch his hands!" exclaimed Terence. "I'll acceptall responsibility."
The McNab's plausibility vanished.
"Enough of this horse-play," he said vehemently. "James and youtwo--throw this--er--gentleman out."
"Stand back--stand back, I say!" ordered Terence, as the threeflunkeys showed signs of obeying their master.
The men paused irresolutely. There were a few seconds of tensesilence. Then the servants revealed themselves in their truecolours--accomplices of the spy, von Eckenhardt.
Drawing automatic pistols from their pockets they levelled them atthe now more than astounded British officers, while von Eckenhardt,of whose identity Terence had not the faintest doubt, wrestledfuriously with his captors.
It was not compulsion that kept the Germans from using their firearmsit was fear--a dread that their act would assuredly, in the event ofcapture, make them indictable on a capital charge.
"Shoot!" shouted von Eckenhardt in German. "Shoot, for the sake ofthe Fatherland."
It was Gilroy who saved the situation. Tall and powerfully built, anda prominent member of the "United Services," he was far away superiorin physical strength to the denounced spy.
With lightning-like rapidity he flung his arms around the Teuton, andusing him as a human buckler and a battering-ram combined, chargedthe still irresolute flunkeys.
Half a dozen pistol-shots rang out; not the result of a deliberateact but of the nervous pressure on the delicate trigger of one of theautomatic weapons. The bullets, flying wide, chipped the oakpanelling, and--omen of ill-luck to the tenant ofTuilabrail--shattered a mirror into fragments.
In ten seconds Gilroy with his living weapon had cleared the room ofthe enemy. The engineer-lieutenant locked the door, while Terence andthe others quickly bound von Eckenhardt with their handkerchiefs.
"Stand clear of the door," cautioned Gilroy. "Now that those fellowshave started to let off fireworks they might take it into their headsto put a few pieces of nickel through the woodwork. Nixon, cut off ashard as you can and bring up a file of Marines: be careful goingthrough the grounds. The whole place is a nest of Germans--beastlycheek sheltering under good old Scots' names."
Gilroy's words, similar to those expressed by Chief Engineer McBride,showed how deeply he, a thorough Scot, resented the colossalimpudence of the super-spy in assuming a respectable Highlandcognomen.
It was, indeed, a daring piece of work on the part of Karl vonEckenhardt.
After his encounter with Terence on the cliffs at Yarmouth he hadsucceeded in eluding the patrols and had taken refuge in London. Herehe lay low as a Russian subject. A fortnight later, by means of aforged passport, he embarked at Shields upon a Swedish vessel boundfor Gottenberg. Thence he returned to his native country, whereduring a period of activity at the German Admiralty he grew a fullbeard. He was far too wily to adopt false hair as a disguise,although he did not hesitate to dye his beard a ruddy tint.
Without difficulty, this time making use of an American passport andregistering as a citizen of New York, he returned to England by adifferent route. After a short stay in Liverpool he went on toGlasgow, whence he transmitted valuable information to Berlin as aresult of a casual acquaintanceship with an overseer of one of theClyde shipyards.
Gaining increased confidence his next move was to install himself inthe neighbourhood of Rosyth, in order to keep a watchful eye upon themovements of the Grand Fleet. Plentifully supplied with money, heassumed the honoured name of McNab, and completely deceiving a firmof house agents, succeeded in getting the tenancy of Tuilabrail.
Then, having engaged servants who with few exceptions were Germansecret agents domiciled long enough in Great Britain to disarm anysuspicion of their nationality, he proceeded to get in touch withcertain of the junior officers of the Fleet and some of the civilofficials of the new and important dockyard of Rosyth.
Fortune seemed to smile on his efforts. Acting as a friend in need toa naval officer whose car had met with a breakdown, he found thebeginning of a chain of acquaintances. His hospitality became aby-word amongst certain parties of naval men. He never askedquestions upon Service matters. He relied upon his sharp ears andthose of his minions to pick up useful information from the casualconversations of his guests. Young officers were at times, hereasoned, apt to forget the necessity for "official reticence andreserve."
One of his duties was to send a report to Berlin of all changes inthe personnel of officers of the Fleet. This was a comparatively easymatter, since most appointments were published in the Press.
Another was to notify movements of individual ships, both naval andmercantile. This he did by means of a simple re-arrangement of theInternational Code, the news being sent by a comparativelylow-powered wireless apparatus to a disguised trawler that wascruising regularly off the tail of the Dogger.
Unfortunately for him, Sub-Lieutenant Aubyn's appointment to the"Livingstone" did not appear in the papers; had it done so he wouldhave been put upon his guard. Cool and calculating as he generallywas, the suddenness with which he found himself confronted by Terencemomentarily took him off his guard. In spite of his disguise the sub.recognized von Eckenhardt immediately.
It was an hour or more before Lieutenant Nixon returned, accompaniedby a party of Marine Light Infantry and a number of Metropolitanpolice, who, amongst other duties, are entrusted with the guarding ofhis Majesty's Naval and Military establishments.
Seeing that the game was up, von Eckenhardt gave in with a goodgrace, boasting, however, that having done a great deal of work forthe Fatherland he was ready to pay the price, although it was amisfortune that he had not been able to do all that he had hoped toaccomplish.
His assistants had already fled--one, out of perhaps half a dozen,was arrested twenty-four hours later in a sailor's home at Leith; theothers got clear away. So hurried had been their departure that thehouse was left untouched. A systematic search revealed the presenceof a secret wireless apparatus cunningly concealed in a bricked-upchimney corner; while, amid the mass of documents impounded by thepolice, experts discovered the system whereby von Eckenhardt was ableto communicate with the utmost freedom with the German Admiralty.
"A smart move, that of yours, Aubyn," commented Gilroy, as theofficers made their way back to the flotilla. "I really thought youhad gone off your head."
"It wouldn't be the first time people thought that," rejoinedTerence. "But I don't think we've done anything to brag about."
"What? Not laying that dangerous spy by the heels?" asked theengineer-lieutenant in surprise.
"Perhaps," replied Gilroy, with a grim smile. "But the point is,we've all been taken in by the rotter. Suppose at the court-martialthey inquired the reason why we went to Tuilabrail? We'll have toadmit that we were very nicely taken in, in more senses than one.Then they'll make us sit up."
The "sitting up" part of the business began immediately upon theirreturn to their respective destroyers, for a signal was made by theadmiral cancelling all shore leave.
At four that same afternoon--being Saturday 23 January, 1915--orderswere received for the flotillas to weigh and proceed to a rendezvousoff the Isle of May.
Speculation was rife amongst officers and crew as to the significanceof this move. No one guessed what was tak
ing place at TuilabrailHouse: that the secret wireless was being made use of to send grosslymisleading information to Berlin; and that the authorities had greathopes that the German swift armoured cruisers would be lured intomaking another raid on the supposedly defenceless East Coast.