A Sub. of the R.N.R.: A Story of the Great War

  CHAPTER II.

  ON THE SCENT.

  FOURTH Officer Aubyn knew that it was for no ordinary purpose that hehad been sent with a message to the chief engineer. It was mostunusual for a deck-officer to have to go to the engine-room on duty.There was something beyond a normal anxiety to know when the shipwould be able to raise steam that caused Captain Ramshaw to make aninquiry from the bridge without using the telephone.

  It was a diplomatic stroke on the part of the "old man." He knew byexperience that McBride could be easily led, while on the other handthe dour old Scotsman would not be driven. It was not a case ofpreferential treatment in the case of the chief engineer. CaptainRamshaw invariably treated all his subordinates alike, giving hisorders in a bland, courteous manner that rarely failed to produce aninstant response on the part of those with whom he had to come incontact. Yet from the chief officer down to the pantry-boy no one onboard would dare to take undue advantage of the skipper's courtesy.Woe betide the unlucky man to whom Captain Ramshaw had to give thesame order twice. There had been instances, but not on board the SS."Saraband." The good understanding between the captain, officers, andcrew made her the counterpart of a "happy ship" in the Royal Navy.

  But now, for the first time on record during Captain Ramshaw'scommand, a dirty piece of work had been done on board--seeminglyunaccountably. Some one in the engine-room had committed a dastardlycrime. Captain Ramshaw would not rest until the culprit had beenspotted; for with the safety of the ship, passengers, crew, andcargo, and in the interests of the owners, it was absolutelynecessary to discover the identity of the offender.

  Terence opened the door of the engine-room and paused. Between thebars of the "fidley" wafts of hot air and steam, mingled with thenauseating odours of burning oil, eddied upwards. At his feet gaped avague, ill-lighted cavern, the only approach to which was by means ofa series of short, shining steel ladders.

  As his eyes grew accustomed to the semi-gloom the outlines of thegleaming masses of intricate machinery became apparent; a bewilderingarray of polished steel, copper, and brass. A subdued roar, mingledwith the clatter of drills and tapping of hammers and men's voicesshouting peremptory orders came from the metal cavern. The auxiliaryengines, for supplying power to the derricks and for lightingpurposes, were fortunately intact.

  It was new ground to Terence Aubyn, and hardly a place where "whiteducks" could be considered _de rigeur_. Grasping the hand-rail hedescended cautiously till his feet came in contact with the slipperyiron gangway by the side of the now motionless piston-heads. At theextremity of the platform, confronted by a number of indicators, thesenior engineers on duty were generally to be found; but McBride wasnot there.

  Another length of vertical ladder had to be negotiated, withseemingly little space for the descending man between the rungs and acomplication of gleaming copper pipes that threatened to hit him inthe back. To add to Aubyn's discomfort, the motion of the vessel inthe trough of the sullen rollers was unpleasantly noticeable. On deckhe revelled in the undulating movement. In the stuffy engine-room itwas very different.

  "A proper death-trap if anything goes wrong," thought he. "Thankgoodness I'm a deck-officer."

  Terence had to descend three more lengths of ladder before he reachedthe plates of the engine-bed. Here there were men in swarms, for themost part greasers in dungaree suits. Amongst them Aubyn spottedKenneth Raeburn, looking very different from his spruce appearance inthe engineers' mess or when he went ashore.

  Raeburn and Aubyn were good pals. Whenever, between the intervals ofstowing and unloading the cargo in the holds, Terence was able to getashore, they generally contrived to be in each other's company.

  The third engineer was generally voted "a decent sort" by hismessmates. His case was very similar to that of Terence Aubyn; for hehad been intended for the Royal Navy until a drastic modification ofthe regulations, whereby cadets had eventually to specialize inmarine engineering, had put him out of the running. He, too, held acommission in the Royal Naval Reserve, and in the natural buoyancy ofhis spirits, Kenneth Raeburn often hoped for the time when GreatBritain and Germany were to measure their strength for the supremacyof the sea. Then, he realized, would be the chance for mercantileofficers in the R.N.R. to prove their worth as effective assistantsto their comrades of the Royal Navy.

  "Looking for McBride?" repeated Raeburn. "He's down the tunnel. Themain-shaft bearings are seized up. Beastly job. You won't be able toget to him, old chap."

  "I must," said Terence firmly.

  "At the expense of your uniform then. I'll find him. Follow me."

  At the head of the next ladder Raeburn paused.

  "I think I've spotted the rascal," he announced. "Keep behind me.When I drop a spanner, have a look at the fellow we're passing. I'lltell you more later on."

  Along the electrically lighted platform the two young officers madetheir way, frequently stepping over the prostrate bodies of greaserswho were tackling an intricate job under the supervision of thesecond engineer.

  With a clatter the spanner dropped on the metal floor within a fewinches of a tall, broad-shouldered, fair-haired man, dressed like hiscompanions in a very dirty boiler suit. The fellow was lying on hisside with his hands above his face as he secured anintricately-placed hexagonal nut. Hearing the clatter he turned hishead, stifled an imprecation, and grasping the spanner, held it atarm's length for Raeburn to take.

  Aubyn glanced at the man's face. Although outwardly a casual look hemarked the fellow's features. He was convinced that he had not seenhim before, but that was not to be wondered at, as there is nonecessity for the deck-officers to know the greasers and firemenindividually as in the case of the deckhands. Nevertheless, he feltcertain that he would know the man again.

  "Hang on a few moments," bawled Raeburn, for the noise in thisquarter was deafening. He vanished, leaving Terence in hisunaccustomed and distasteful surroundings while he went to find hischief.

  Presently McBride appeared, dirty, smothered in oil and perspiringlike the proverbial bull. The chief engineer was one of thoseofficers who was not content with mere supervision. When work of anurgent nature, such as the present, was at hand, he tackled itmethodically and deliberately.

  "Ma compliments to Captain Ramshaw," said McBride, when Terence haddelivered his message, "but I'll nae commit mesel'. The wurrk istakin' longer than I anticipated, and we're doin' double shifts toset things aright. Gie' him to onderstan' that directly we are ableto raise steam, steam will be raised, but not before."

  "Haven't you any idea?" asked Aubyn.

  "Nay, I'll nae commit mesel'," reiterated the chief engineer, andwithout another word he hastened back to his cramped quarters in thetunnel of the starboard main shafting.

  Raeburn followed his chum to the engine-room door.

  "Look me up at seven bells to-night," he said. "We'll do a littleamateur detective business. That greaser I pointed out is new to theship. Joined us at Southampton. There's nothing out of the ordinaryabout that, but on one or two nights I've noticed him talking to asecond-class passenger. On the first occasion I stumbled upon them byaccident, and they shut up like oysters. Then when the troubledeveloped, I remarked this somewhat unusual meeting and kept a watch.At the same hour these two met, and the passenger handed our man asmall packet of something. It might have been tobacco, of course; butcuriously enough we've discovered the cause of the bearings of thetwo main shafts seizing and getting almost red-hot. There werephosphor-bronze filings in the drip lubricators. Now, it's aremarkable thing that it was part of this greaser's duties--Stone ishis name, by the by--to attend to the lubrication of these bearings;and I'll swear he couldn't get hold of phosphor-bronze filings fromthe engineers' stores. So I want you to keep a lookout on thepassenger; I don't know his name, but if you see them you can easilyfind that out."

  "Why not inform McBride?" asked Terence.

  "When I have proof," replied Raeburn. "So look out for me at sevenbells."

  The fourth officer returned to the bridge
and reported the result ofhis brief interview.

  "Very good, Mr. Aubyn," was Captain Ramshaw's only comment.

  The "old man" was disappointed but not nettled by McBride's message.H e had great faith in the old Scotsman, and only sheer anxiety hadprompted him to obtain a report of the progress of operations fromthe chief engineer. There was nothing to do but to wait patiently.

  The rest of the day passed almost without incident, except thatGrant, the wireless operator, reported a partial "jamming" of theaerial waves. Messages were received in a very disjointed form, andin spite of the fact that Grant requested the unknown disturber torelease the "jamb," owing to the receipt of unintelligible reports,his efforts were in vain. Some vessels on shore-stations using adifferently "tuned" installation were literally holding the air. Thecurious part of the business was that the "Saraband" received severalmessages in which the words "neutrality of Belgium" figured largely,but beyond that no enlightening context was obtainable.

  During the afternoon Terence Aubyn had to exercise the gun-crews atdrill with one of the two 4.7's that had recently been fitted to theship. These weapons, mounted aft, one on each quarter, were for thepurpose of keeping up a running fight in the event of the outbreak ofwar. They would enable the ship to beat off the possible attack of ahostile commerce-destroyer, or at any rate prolong the action untilthe arrival of a British cruiser.

  Aubyn was very keen on this part of his duties. It was, until he hadundergone his training in the Royal Navy, a purely honorary task.Later on he might hope to draw a modest ten pounds a year from theNational Exchequer for his ability to perform a combatant duty. Froma pecuniary point of view it did not seem very promising, but thefourth officer was used to meagre pay for much work. He had to beable to "read the heavens," to use at least a dozen highlycomplicated nautical instruments, to undergo a strenuous scientifictraining, and to take sole charge of a ship during his watch. Livesand property of incalculable value were in his hands, yet his pay wasan amount at which many a sleek, discontented clerk would turn up hisnose in utter disgust.

  For half an hour Terence kept his gun's crew hard at it, goingthrough imaginary loading exercises and training the docile weapon atimaginary targets, to the great interest of most of the passengersand to the ill-bred scorn of others who derided the whole business asidiotic make-believe.

  This done the fourth officer was at leisure for rest and sleep untilturned out at 4 a.m. to take his watch.

  At the hour agreed upon Aubyn met Raeburn outside the engineers'mess. It was now pitch dark, for in the Tropics there is little or notwilight. The sky was overcast, although the glass was steady, andnot a star shed its light on the waste of waters. The "Saraband,"brilliantly lighted, still floated idly, drifting at the rate offifteen miles a day under the influence of the weak CounterEquatorial Current.

  Selecting a hiding-place in a corner thrown into deep shadow by theglare of a powerful lamp, the churns waited. Half an hour passedwithout result. They began to feel stiff and cramped in theirconfined quarters.

  Presently Raeburn nudged the fourth officer.

  Strolling along the alley-way was a short, sparely built man. He wasdressed in a white flannel suit with a dark red cummer-bund. He wasbareheaded, and as a ray of light fell upon his features Terencecould see that his were of a yellow cadaverous appearance. His hairwas black, thick, and closely cut. His moustache was heavy anddrooping. His eyes turned furtively from side to side as he advanced,although he kept his head as rigid as if immovably fixed to his body.

  He passed by their place of concealment. Aubyn could hear his softshoes pattering upon the deck. Presently he returned, promenading thewhole length of the alley-way. Thrice he did this, then, giving aswift glance behind him, stepped into a store-room immediatelyopposite the companion to the greasers' and firemen's quarters, theafter bulkhead of which formed with the side of the ship the recessin which the two chums lay concealed.

  The fellow was breathing heavily. Through the iron partition the twowatchers could hear his laboured gasps which were the result not ofunusual activity but of intense mental strain.

  Again Raeburn touched his companion on the shoulder. Some one elsewas approaching--not from the engine-room hands' quarters but alongthe alley-way.

  It was a woman, slight of build, and in spite of the heat, closelyveiled. Without hesitation she went straight to the place where thesuspected man was waiting.

  For ten minutes the pair talked, rapidly and in low, excited tones;then together they made their way aft.

  "A rotten sell," remarked Aubyn, as soon as the coast was clear. "Wecame to spot a pair of conspirators--not to witness a meeting betweena pair of lovers."

  "Shouldn't think the woman was sweet on that chap, but there's noaccounting for taste," rejoined Raeburn. "That's the fellow rightenough. Did you hear what they were talking about?"

  "Not I; it wasn't my business," replied Terence.

  "It ought to. They were talking in German."

  "Don't understand the lingo," declared the fourth officer. "Besides,what if they did? There are seven German passengers on board; andit's hard lines if they can't speak in their own tongue if they wantto, especially if they avoid lacerating the ears of theirfellow-passengers with the saw-edged language."

  "There's more in it than you imagine, old man. That fellow is anintermediary between the woman and Stone, the greaser. ApparentlyStone--referred to by the woman as Hans, although the name he gave isHenry--is holding out for more money for doing something. The womanmaintains that he failed to do his allotted task satisfactorily--thathe bungled badly over it. She wanted to tackle Stone himself, and thepassenger fellow, whose name is Karl, objected. Possibly it was owingto her presence that Stone failed to put in an appearance."

  "By Jove, Raeburn, I believe you're on the right track after all!"

  "I think I am," replied the third engineer quietly. "At all eventswe'll keep this to ourselves for a little until we obtain furtherevidence. If I don't see you before, we'll meet here to-morrow nightat seven bells, and trust that Stone will show his hand."