CHAPTER XXIV.
THE "STRONGBOW'S" PRIZE.
BEFORE eight on the following morning Terence rejoined the"Strongbow." The heartiness of his welcome almost banished the senseof disappointment he felt at having to serve on patrol duty insteadof in a sphere of belligerent activity.
Captain Ripponden honoured him by requesting his company atbreakfast; Commander Ramshaw was enthusiastic at seeing his formerfourth officer again; even the somewhat taciturn Lymore smiled grimlyas he shook Aubyn's hand; while Chief-Engineer McBride delivered sucha welcome in the broadest Scotch that he was seized with a fit ofviolent coughing that did not subside till he rushed to his cabin anddrained a stiff glass of "Hie'land Dew."
Kenneth Raeburn, who happened to be on watch in the engine-room onTerence's arrival, quickly sought out his chum as soon as he was offduty.
"I hear you've been having a high old time," he exclaimedboisterously. "You always were a lucky chap, old man. Let's hear allabout it."
"I'll begin stern-foremost," began Terence, and to Raeburn'sastonishment he related the circumstances that culminated in thedeath of Karl von Eckenhardt.
"By Jove, old man, you'll be lionized over this business!--saving atroop train and settling that bounder."
"I think not," rejoined Terence. "Fact is, I slipped away while theywere all busy with the investigations. Didn't want to be detainedover a rotten inquest. Don't believe in them myself."
"Neither do I," asserted Raeburn. "I had to attend one once, and thewhole thing struck me as an utter farce, beginning with the falseevidence of the village bobby and finishing up with the doctor'sreport. I know for a fact that when he examined the body he was asdrunk as a fiddler. But is there anything in the papers?"
"Can't tell," replied Terence. "The bumboat hasn't come alongsideyet. Anyway, I don't want you to say a word to anybody about thebusiness; I want to be afloat. Any idea of the programme?"
"Same old game," said Kenneth, with a grin. "Between the south ofIceland and the Faroe Islands. Hullo, here's the bumboat! Now for apaper."
The "Strongbow" was lying about a mile from the West Pier of the portof Leith in company with half a dozen Admiralty craft of varioussizes. Communication with the shore was maintained by means offrequent picquet boats, while tradesmen were allowed to supplyluxuries to the ships by means of sailing craft known from timeimmemorial as bumboats.
Terence showed no hurry in securing his copy of the paper, but hisinterest was none the less acute. Having received one he retired tothe seclusion of the deserted smoking-room and opened the dampsheets.
Quickly he scanned the news columns. Nothing escaped him, but therewas no mention of the attempted outrage on the troop train. For goodreasons, mainly to avoid creating any alarm on the part of the publicand partly to conceal the fact from the German authorities that theirmaster-spy had paid the penalty for his activities, the news had beencompletely suppressed by the Censor, although already eight-hundredsoldiers were spreading the report amongst their comrades onSalisbury Plain.
Terence gave vent to a chuckle of satisfaction. Nevertheless, he keptan anxious eye on the boats putting off to the ship, in case one ofthem contained a messenger bearing a demand for the lieutenant toreport himself to the civil authorities. Nor did his uneasinesssubside until the "Strongbow" weighed and proceeded towards herstation.
For weeks she cruised, save for the short visits she was compelled topay when requiring coal and provisions. Yet nothing occurred to marthe uneventfulness of that lone patrol.
The principal topic on board was now the question of the Dardanellesoperations, of which reports were received by wireless.
Amongst the officers there were two distinct parties in the matter ofopinion. One, headed by Commander Ramshaw, expressed the belief inthe success of the attempt to force the supposedly impregnablewaterway. The other, though smaller, was represented by LieutenantLymore, who pessimistically regarded the operations as hopeless.
"It's not the Turkish guns," he declared. "It's that rotten currentsetting down from the Marmora. I've been there, and I know what it'slike. The Turks will be chucking cartloads of mines overboard, andthere'll be no end of a mess up."
The very next morning came the news of the totally unexpectedappearance of the Super-Dreadnought "Queen Elizabeth." Ramshaw was soelated that he upset a cup of coffee over the ward-room tablecloth,and cheerfully paid up the sixpence demanded by McQuid, the assistantpaymaster, who in his capacity of member of the Mess Committee was assharp as needles in mulcting a delinquent.
"That's the way," declared the commander. "Taking those forts in therear. They'll be through within a week."
A week passed, and still no news of the successful forcing of theDardanelles. Then came the disquieting tidings of the sinking of the"Ocean," "Irresistible," and "Bouvet" and the disablement of the"Gaulois."
"Just what I said!" declared Lymore. "It's those beastly mines. Now,if I had a prominent voice----"
"You have, old man!" exclaimed the assistant paymaster.
Lymore glared at the interrupter.
"I'd chuck the idea of pushing up through the Narrows."
"A pretty figure you'd cut," remarked McBride. "There's nae trueBriton wha'd back down once he's taken on the wurrk."
"I didn't mean that, my dear sir," continued the lieutenant. "I'ddevote my energies in another direction. There's the Peninsula ofSaros, about five miles in width and about eighty feet in height."
"Well?" inquired the assistant paymaster.
"I'd land a strong force under cover of the warship guns, whiptogether a regular army of navvies and all the steam navvies I couldlay my hands on. In six weeks, and at a cost of less than that of thebattleships we've already lost, there would be a canal twelve feet indepth from the Gulf of Saros to the Sea of Marmora. And, remember,both seas are practically tideless."
"Sounds feasible, laddie," remarked McBride.
"And then it would be a simple matter to send out the monitors. Withtheir draught of seven feet they could easily pass through, as wellas our earlier type of destroyers. Without paying the faintestattention to the Dardanelles forts the monitors could strike hard atConstantinople."
"Lymore, you ought to be on the Board of Admiralty," said CommanderRamshaw gravely.
"Instead of which I'm only a Reserve officer on the armed merchantman'Strongbow'," added Lymore, with a grim smile.
At that moment came a knock at the wardroom door, and a messengerannounced that an accident had occurred in the engine-room.
McBride was on his feet in an instant. The thought of anythinghappening to his beloved engines acted like a red rag to a bull.
All the executive officers not actually on duty gathered round theengine-room hatchway, from which clouds of steam were issuing. It wasas far as they dared go towards setting foot in McBride's domain.
After ten minutes' wait, two stokers were sent on deck, bothsuffering from severe scalds. These were followed by Kenneth Raeburn,whose right arm was swathed in cotton waste soaked with oil.
"Rotten luck, old man!" he exclaimed, with forced cheerfulness, as hecaught sight of his chum, Terence. "It's not much as far as I amconcerned; merely a slight burn."
Aubyn could see by the expression upon the assistant engineer'sfeatures that he was suffering acutely. He did not know at the timethat in addition to being severely scalded by the bursting of a steampipe, Raeburn's wrist had been broken in a gallant attempt to rescuethe two stokers as they lay, overcome by the hot steam, upon thefloor of the stokehold.
Terence accompanied his chum to the sick-bay, where the surgeonquickly made the discovery that the plucky officer had sustainedinjuries that would probably necessitate his being invalided out ofthe Service.
Kenneth read the doctor's fears as clearly as if he had been bluntlytold the truth.
"Hard lines," he exclaimed. "Looks as if I'm to be chucked out ofthe old 'Strongbow'."
"Only for a time, I hope," rejoined the surgeon. "Now, keep as steadyas you can. I may hur
t you a bit."
Aubyn watched his chum's face as he proceeded to dress the doublyinjured limb. Beads of perspiration stood out on the young assistantengineer's face, but not a sound escaped from his lips, but beforethe dressing was completed Kenneth fainted.
"He's real pluck," declared the surgeon. "I dare not give him ananaesthetic, and the fracture of the wrist, complicated by the burns,made it a fearfully painful business for him. It's as well he'sunconscious."
"Will he be invalided?" asked Aubyn.
"I'm afraid so," replied the medico. "The effect of the burn uponthe tendons will probably result in a permanent weakening of themuscular action of the hand. I may be wrong--I hope so; but timealone will tell."
For the next week Raeburn was confined to the sick-bay. At the end ofthat time he was able to get on deck, with his bandaged arm in asling. The doctor suggested to Captain Ripponden the desirability oflanding the patient at the first opportunity, and the captainconcurred.
Two days later a sail was reported. Of late the "Strongbow" had notfallen in with any craft, either British or neutral, and the news washailed with mild excitement. Anything to relieve the monotony of thedaily routine was welcome.
As soon as the stranger sighted the British merchant-cruiser heturned tail and steamed as hard as he could. A thrill of expectancytook possession of the "Strongbow's" crew. They were out to chasesomething, and the mere fact that the unknown vessel had shown herheels went to prove that she was a of suspicious character.
Calling every ounce of steam, Captain Ripponden stood in pursuit. Itwas the first time in her existence as an armed merchant-cruiser thatthe "Strongbow" was called upon to engage in a chase. Hitherto everycraft she had subjected to examination had submitted passively. Nowshe was having a run for her money. Her hull quivered under the rapidpulsations of her powerful engines. The grey paint on her funnelcasings blistered and peeled in large flakes, while for miles asternthe thick cloud of smoke gave some indication of the activities ofthe "black squad" as they piled shovelful after shovelful of coalinto the furnaces.
Half an hour's chase showed that the "Strongbow" was overhauling herquarry. Twenty minutes later the merchant-cruiser dropped a pluggedshell a hundred yards abeam of the fugitive. Even this was notsufficient to impress upon the stranger that the game was up, and itwas not until the "Strongbow" planted another shot within fifty feetof the unknown vessel that she slowed down and hoisted Norwegiancolours.
The craft proved to be the "Roldal," a passenger and cargo steamer,of Bergen; but the fact that she had attempted to escape was initself significant.
"Boarding-party away."
Into the boat tumbled fifteen bluejackets. In command was LieutenantTerence Aubyn.
"I protest against the outrage," exclaimed the Norwegian captain ingood English, as the boat ran alongside the "Roldal," which was nowhove-to within two cables' lengths of her successful pursuer. "Thisis a neutral ship."
"And carries twenty passengers--citizens of the Republic of theUnited States of America, sonny," added a man standing by thegangway, whose "twang" would in itself be a sufficient indication ofhis nationality.
"Sorry, captain," replied Terence, "but my duty compels me to boardyou."
"Then a curse upon your duty!" retorted the captain. "YourGovernment will regret this outrage."
"If you will kindly allow me to come on board," remarked thelieutenant courteously, according to his instructions, although hefelt he would have given a month's pay to have spoken his mind,"I'll go through the formality of examining your papers, and if theyare in order you will not be detained more than a few minutes."
After intentional delay a tarry rope-ladder was lowered. Terencecould have insisted upon having the accommodation-ladder let down,but instead he swarmed up the swaying perpendicular means of access,and followed by six of his men gained the "Roldal's" deck.
Ignoring the studied rudeness of the passengers, one of whom loudlyprotested against the "darned interference of cocksure Britishers!"Terence requested the captain to produce the ship's papers.
Grudgingly these documents were handed over. The "Roldal" was aNorwegian-owned vessel, bound from Boston, U.S.A., to Bergen. Herpassenger list showed that there were nineteen American subjects andfour Norwegian. Her cargo consisted of wheat and iron ware.
Glancing down the passenger list Terence saw the name "Octavius P.Rand, of Norfolk, Virginia." Going to the door of the cabin herequested the owner of the name to step forward.
There were looks of blank astonishment on the faces of eighteen ofthe American citizens. The nineteenth, the fellow who had protestedso emphatically, began nudging a round-faced man in the group.
"You are Octavius P. Rand?" inquired the lieutenant, and receiving anaffirmative reply, conveyed by means of a decided inclination of thehead, he asked the man a few questions of various places inNorfolk--a town with which Terence happened to be fairly wellacquainted. It was quickly apparent that the so-called Octavius hadnever set foot in that part of Virginia. By his Teutonic accent hewas either a German or a German-American.
Of the others not one could speak English properly. They wereeighteen Germans, domiciled in the United States, but on the way tothe Fatherland to join the reserves. The nineteenth was a Yankeeagent for a munition business in Hamburg.
A peculiar buzzing from the wireless-room of the "Roldal" toldTerence that the operators were at work. Ordering two armed seamen tofollow him, the lieutenant peremptorily told the wireless men tocease operations, and having placed sentries outside the door, hereturned to his work of examination.
The Bills of Lading, Manifest, and Charter Party were palpableforgeries, while a survey of the hold showed that a quantity of the"iron ware" was copper ingots.
"You must consider your ship under arrest," declared Terence to thestill aggressive skipper.
Without a word the captain flung himself into his cabin. He did notmind the ship being taken as a prize. His liberty would not beaffected, since he was a Norwegian subject, while a substantial sumof money had already been paid to him by his employers, and the moneyhad been sent by mailboat to his home. He had no interests at stake,but he was determined not to render his captors the slightestassistance in navigating the ship.
Leaving a strong armed party on board the prize, Terence returned tothe "Strongbow" and made his report. On the strength of this CaptainRipponden had no hesitation in taking possession of the ship. Awireless was sent to the Admiral of the Armed Merchant Fleetannouncing the capture, and proposing that the "Strongbow" shouldescort the "Roldal" into Cromarty Firth.
Promptly came the reply: "'Strongbow' not to escort prize. Send'Roldal' into Cromarty Firth with a prize crew."
"Very good," commented Captain Ripponden when the message wasdelivered. "Mr. Aubyn, you will please take command of the prize,and upon arrival at Dingwall hand her over to the authorities fordisposal. Then bring your men on to Leith. We will be putting inthere for coal on the 26th, and you can rejoin the ship on thatdate."
The lieutenant saluted, and turned to go to his cabin and make briefbut urgent preparations for his independent command.
"One moment, Mr. Aubyn."
Terence saluted and awaited the captain's pleasure.
"You may as well take Mr. Raeburn with you," continued CaptainRipponden. "Dr. Hardiman seems to think that the sooner he is ashoreand able to obtain hospital treatment the better. Now, carry on, andgood luck to you."
Ten minutes later Terence and Kenneth were ready to proceed to theprize. The assistant engineer, in spite of the fact that his rightarm was still crippled and showed no immediate prospects of healing,was in the best of spirits and, unassisted, gained the stern-sheetsof the boat amid a fire of farewell greetings from hisbrother-officers.
"Give way!" ordered Terence.
The men bent to their supple ash oars with a will, while thelieutenant steered towards the prize.
"What's up, old man?" he asked, suddenly noticing a perplexed look onRaeburn's face.
"L
eft my best pipe behind," was the dejected reply. "No, don't putback--'tis beastly unlucky."
He faced aft, then using his sound hand as a speaking trumpet heshouted to another assistant engineer.
"I say, Smithers, I've left a presentation pipe in my cabin. Youmight look to it, old man."
"Right-o!" was the reply. "I'll send it off as soon as we arrive atLeith. You can rely upon getting it by Monday morning. So don't getinto a tear."
"If I don't, look out for squalls," retorted Kenneth.
Smithers shouted something in reply that was evidently intended to befacetious, but by this time the distance between the "Strongbow" andthe receding boat was too great for the words to be understood.
"I'll never forgive old Hardiman for having me sent ashore," declaredRaeburn. "It isn't as if I were properly crocked. I could do a trickin the engine-room even with a damaged hand. It's hard lines onSmithers and the others: they'll have to put in extra time."
Terence did not reply. He knew that it would be a long time--perhapsnever--before Kenneth Raeburn would be on duty in the engine-room ofa British warship, or even on a merchantman.
By the time the boat came alongside the "Roldal" those of the"Strongbow's" crew who had been left on board the prize had clearedaway and lowered the accommodation-ladder. The Norwegians had stoodsullenly aside, not a man stirring a finger to help. The skipper hadmade up his mind to adopt an attitude of passive resistance, and hiscrew took their cue from him.
As soon as the rest of the prize crew boarded the ship and theirscanty gear and provisions hoisted up, the boat returned to the"Strongbow."
From the yard-arm of the latter a string of bunting fluttered in thebreeze. It was the signal to part company. Then gathering way thearmed merchantman circled to port, and steamed in a westerlydirection.
Left to himself Terence proceeded to take the necessary steps for thesafeguarding of his charge. The Norwegian crew were ordered to keepfor'ard; the officers were allowed the run of the deck aft, while thepassengers, with the exception of the American, were placed underarrest as German subjects capable of bearing arms.
Since the ship's officers bluntly refused to take any part innavigating the ship, Terence had a bed prepared in the chart-room. Heknew that it meant forty-eight hours' duty.
He was short-handed. With sentries posted at the wireless-room, thefo'c'sle, and over the prisoners, the number of men at his disposalwas far too small. He could not compel the engine-room staff to work;so some of his own men were sent to the stokehold and engine-roomunder the charge of an experienced engine-room artificer. Yet inspite of the willingness of the volunteer stokers, it was impossibleto keep a full head of steam. Eleven knots was the maximum speed thatcould, under these circumstances, be screwed out of the captured"Roldal."
Before night the wind freshened. By six bells in the middle watch itwas blowing a gale from the east'ard. The "Roldal" made bad weatherof it. Broadside on to the direction of the wind she rolled like abarrel, shipping green seas amidships.
Clad in oilskins Terence remained on the bridge throughout theterrible night. He mentally condemned the fate that put him in chargeof a cranky tramp-steamer, when he might be sleeping soundly on boardthe weatherly "Strongbow." Hour after hour he stood gripping the railof the erratically swaying bridge and peering through the welter ofbroken water and pitch-dark sky. For the first time in his nauticalexistence he realized the responsibility of being in sole charge of aship and of the lives of men.
Before it was dawn a hideous clamour, distinctly audible above thehowling of the gale, came from somewhere for'ard. Terence strainedhis ears to try to detect by the nature of the sound what had goneadrift. It was the clanging of metal against metal.
Watching their opportunity during the slight interval when the brokenwater receded from amidships, two of the prize crew dashed aft fromthe fo'c'sle and sprang up the bridge-ladder.
"Starboard anchor broken adrift, sir," reported one. "It's hammeringagainst the bows for all it's worth."
Aubyn considered the problem for a few moments. To send some of thescanty crew to work upon the exposed fo'c'sle to secure and re-catthe recalcitrant anchor would be a difficult task even withsufficient hands and in a moderate sea. Better by far unshackle thecable and allow the anchor to go.
He gave the order. Between the pounding of the heavy mass of forgedsteel, for the anchor weighed more than a ton, could be heard theblows of the mauls as the two seamen knocked out the pin of theshackle. Then, after the whirr of the chain through the hawse-pipe,the noise ceased. Terence knew that the anchor had plunged to thebottom of the Atlantic.
A babel of shouting came from the forepeak. The Norwegian seamen wereclambering to be let out. There was no need for Terence to ask why:the damage was already done, for the "bills" of the anchor hadpenetrated the hull below the water-line.
The sense of danger had overcome their resolution to remain passive.They had attempted to plug the hole with hammocks, but the inrush ofwater was too great. Already the forepeak was flooded to a depth ofthree feet.
Shouting orders to the engine-room for the bilge and condenser pumpsto be brought into action, Terence bade the quartermaster turn theship head to wind. Even as the "Roldal" swung round, a terrific seaslapped her quarter and wrenched away the rudder brackets. The strainupon the insufficiently supported rudder resulted in the carryingaway of the sole means of steering, for being a single screw vesselit was not possible to control her by means of the propeller.
Her only chance lay in forging ahead and trusting to luck that shedid not fall off and wallow in the trough of the mountainous seas.
Mechanically the quartermaster stood by the steam steering-gear.Years of implicit trusting to a vessel to answer to her helm had leftsuch an impression upon the seaman that he could not realize that thesole means of keeping the vessel on her course was denied him.
The "Roldal" was slowly turning to starboard. At one moment her sternwould be deep in the waves, at another it would be high in the air,accompanied by a nerve-racking jar as the propeller, lifted from itsnatural element, raced wildly. Then, _swish!_ A cascade of surginggreen water would sweep across the deck and pour in a smother ofwhite foam to leeward.
Another appalling crash aft caused Terence to turn his head. To hisdismay he saw that one of the fore mainmast derricks, which had beentriced up and housed in a perpendicular position, had broken adrift.Like a gigantic flail it swept from side to side, clearing rails anddeck-fittings as easily as if they were made of matchwood.
For a few seconds the heavy spars would bring up against the foremastiron wire shrouds supporting the mainmast, then, with the roll of thevessel, it would fly against the corresponding one on the other side,making the stay sing like a gigantic harp-string. A few minutes ofthat sort of game, Terence knew, would result in the carrying away ofthe shrouds and the loss of the mainmast.
The lieutenant motioned to some of the men: his own crew and a few ofthe Norwegians were sheltering under the lee of one of the intactdeck-houses. At all costs the erratic derrick must be secured.
The men obeyed the unspoken order, for it would be useless even toshout in the midst of the tumult. Rigging a tackle they awaited anopportunity to slip a stout strip over the end of the terrible flail.Over came the spar, missing a man's head by a hair's-breadth. Two ofthe Norwegians sought to secure the derrick during its temporaryinactivity, but an extra roll to leeward caused the spar to give anirresistible lurch. The next instant the men were hurled into themountainous sea.
Nothing could be done to save them. To lower a boat would be a worsethan useless act. It would be simply throwing away human life in animpossible attempt to save two already doomed men.
One of the unfortunate wretches was apparently stunned by the blow,for he was never seen again; the other could be discerned for a briefinstant as he raised his arms in a mute despairing appeal for aidthat was not humanly possible; then he was lost to sight in the chaosof the dark turmoil of broken water.
Dawn was just
breaking as a sudden rush of steam through theengine-room fidley, followed by the slowing down of the engines,announced the disconcerting fact that the water had put out thestokehold fires. Quickly losing way the "Roldal" rolled excessively,helpless in the trough of the raging sea.
Hanging on to the rail like grim death the now thoroughly chastenedNorwegian skipper mounted the bridge. Terence offered no objection.In the hour of danger little unpleasantnesses were lost sight of.They were now human beings fighting against a common foe.
"Can you set canvas on her?" shouted Aubyn.
The Norwegian understood.
"Ay," he roared in reply. "I will see to that."
Calling half a dozen of the men the skipper, accompanied by the firstand second mates, made their way for'ard, not without imminent dangerof being washed overboard. From the partly flooded sail-locker astorm staysail was produced. It had been rolled up for months,perhaps for years. Its hanks were stiff with rust. It took tenminutes' hard work to bend the canvas to the forestay; then slowly itwas sent up and sheeted home. Gradually the vessel's head began topay off. Under the pressure of the sail she would run before thewind. It was her one chance. Scudding before the mountainous seas the"Roldal" might keep afloat some hours longer, in which time she mightbe sighted by another ship and her crew given a fighting chance ofbeing rescued.
Without warning came a sharp, whip-like crack. The clew cringle ofthe sail had burst. With a series of terrific reports, like the barkof a quick-firer, the rotten canvas flogged itself to ribbons. In twominutes hardly a vestige of the staysail was to be seen.
Once again, helpless and in imminent danger of foundering, now thatthe steam-pumps were useless, the ship rolled broadside on in thetrough of the waves. The motion was now decidedly sluggish, herrecovery slow. Another hour, or two at the very most, would see theend unless something totally unforeseen occurred to baulk the sea ofits prey.
"Land ahead!"
Five miles to leeward appeared a chain of rugged cliffs, topped withtreeless ground that culminated in a gaunt peak. Here and there weregaps of varying sizes, but whether these were inlets, or merelypatches of low-lying ground, invisible owing to the curvature of theocean, the lieutenant could not for the time being decide.
All this while, from the moment the Norwegian operator thought itadvisable to relinquish his attitude of passive resistance, thewireless had been sending out calls for aid; but, although Terenceswept the horizon with his glasses, no smoke announced the approachof a succouring steamer.
Presently a line of surf, as the tremendous seas hurled themselvesagainst the rock-bound coast, became visible. The "Roldal" wasevidently doomed either to founder or else be driven upon the bleakand frowning cliffs.
Suddenly the quartermaster, forgetting disparity in rank in hisexcitement, grasped Terence by the arm.
"Look, sir!" he exclaimed. "A submarine!"