CHAPTER XI.
ALL IN A DAY'S WORK.
"LIGHT on the port bow, sir," sung out a hoarse voice in thedarkness.
Sub-Lieutenant Aubyn rubbed his eyes with the back of his lamb-skinglove. The action was necessary, for his face was encrusted withfrozen spray--icicles that, driven with terrific force by the howlingwind, cut so deeply into his weather-beaten skin as to draw blood.Then, grasping his telescope with his benumbed fingers he steadiedthe instrument on the edge of a "storm-dodger" and brought it tobear upon the object indicated.
Two months of monotonous patrol-work had passed since the day onwhich the "Strongbow" left Portsmouth Harbour. The rigours of awinter in the North Atlantic had severely tried the physical andmental capabilities of the officers and crew. As the days shortenedand the nights correspondingly increased, and the periods of weaksunshine became more and more rare, the stress upon the ship'scompany grew. Buffeted by wintry gales, swept by icy seas, the"Strongbow" kept doggedly to her station. For a week at a time nostrange sail would be sighted. The armed liner seemed to be an atomof isolation in the midst of a deserted foam-flecked ocean; yet herswas a particular duty to be done for King and Country.
Coming from a regular route that for the most part lay in tropicaland sub-tropical seas the original officers of the ship felt theclimatic change acutely. Most of them, who hourly faced death in theshape of unseen mines, quailed at the thought of having to use arazor, and grew beards of wondrous trim.
Aubyn was one of the exceptions, yet his appearance was such that heresembled, to use Raeburn's expression, "a cross between a teddy-bearand a golliwog." In addition to double underclothing he sported threethick sweaters, a heavy great-coat and an enormous woollen muffler.Over this perambulating bundle of clothing he wore a large yellowoilskin and sea-boots. His naval peaked cap had given place to awoollen "helmet" surmounted by a "sou'-wester" kept in place, againstthe frantic efforts of the wind to dislodge it, by a black and whiteplaid "comforter" tied tightly under his chin. And in spite of thisload of garments the cold chilled him to the bone.
Terence's appearance in the matter of dress was in keeping with therest of the officers and crew. Gifts of woollen comforts from thewomenfolk of the Empire had been showered upon the Royal Navy, and inspite of the apparent redundancy of garments every article wasutilized and appreciated. Commander Ramshaw had been heard to remarkthat when the men were given an order they had to almost undressbefore they could carry it out. He was not far out, for although theamount of clothing worn was not superfluous it certainly hampered themen's movements.
The "Strongbow's" task was an arduous, necessary, and momentous one.Like scores of her consorts the joy of battle was denied her. Thepossibility of any of her crew smelling powder was a very remote one.She was never likely to join in the chase of a fleeing enemy warship.Her men would never, according to present circumstances, witness thelast plunge of a hostile cruiser, sent to the bottom by the guns of aman-of-war. Honour and glory were not to be hers when the story ofthe Great War comes to be written in letters of gold upon the pagesof the world's history.
No, she was only a patrol-ship; doomed to cruise within certainlimits and examine all strange merchant-craft that passed withinsight of the alert lookout. Yet by so doing she was driving a nailinto the coffin of the vaunted German Empire. She was helping totighten the bands of economic pressure that were slowly but surelycrippling the resources of the Mailed Fist.
It was not until Aubyn had removed the thick deposit of frozen spray,which, in spite of the protective shade had encrusted the objectglass of the telescope, that he was able to distinguish the outlinesof the strange vessel. She was a three-masted topsail schooner,close-reefed and on the starboard tack, showing her port light, whichwas burning brightly.
No vessel engaged in carrying contraband to Germany would be likelyto show navigation lamps while attempting to steal through the cordonof British patrol-ships. The sub. knew that; yet it was his duty toreport the presence of the stranger in order that the "Strongbow"could make a proper examination of her papers.
Upon receipt of the intelligence that the armed liner was heading foran unknown vessel, Captain Ripponden, aroused before he had "turnedin" for less than an hour, hurried to the bridge. Orders were issuedfor the cutter's crew to stand by, while the "Strongbow" wasmanoeuvred to take up a position to windward of the schooner.
Promptly the stranger obeyed the order to heave-to. With her lean bowplunging into the angry seas like a chopper she lost way two cables'lengths from the British patrol-ship, a row of sou'-westered headslined the lee-rail, as her crew watched the approach of "Strongbow's"boat.
Half an hour later the boarding officer returned.
"No luck, sir," he reported. "She's our old friend, the 'Sarmiento,'of Boston, U.S.A., bound for Bergen."
He was justified in calling the schooner an old friend. Three dayspreviously the "Strongbow" had fallen in with and had boarded theself-same vessel. For three days the "Sarmiento" had tacked andtacked in the teeth of the strong nor'-easter, never gaining a mile,while the patrol-ship in keeping her to appointed limits had againfallen in with her.
"All in a night's work," remarked Captain Ripponden, as he preparedto return to his cabin. "Better luck next time. Mr. Bury, you broughtthe cutter alongside in excellent style."
The sub. who had gone to the schooner as boarding-officer saluted.The praise from his captain had amply recompensed him for the dangershe and his boat's crew had undergone in traversing the stretch ofangry sea between the two vessels, only to find that he had departedupon a fruitless errand.
Philosophically he agreed with the skipper that it was all in anight's work, and made a hurried bolt below to shed his saturatedgarments, for in spite of oilskins and sea-boots he was drenched tothe skin.
At eight bells noon on the following day another sail was reported,this time on the port quarter.
The "Strongbow's" helm was immediately put over and a course shapedto intercept the stranger.
"German, by all the powers!" ejaculated Commander Ramshaw. "She'sgot the confounded cheek to hoist her rascally colours."
The approaching vessel was a large steel barque. Her jibboomless"stump" bowsprit and the absence of chain-plates betokened her to bea modern craft and apparently a valuable prize.
The stranger made no attempt to alter course. A score or so ofstolid, fair-haired Teutons were gathered on her short fo'c'sle,gazing with a faint degree of interest upon the grey-painted vesselapproaching them, till a shot fired across the barque's bows,followed by a peremptory signal to heave-to roused them to unwontedactivity.
Away aloft swarmed the astonished German seamen. Sail was quicklyreduced, and curtseying to the short steep seas the barque was readyto receive her prize-masters.
Terence was in charge of the boat detailed to take possession of thebarque. Armed with a revolver and accompanied by fifteen of the crewwith rifles and bayonets, he took his place in the stern sheets ofthe boat. Deftly the patent disengaging gear of the falls was castoff, the men bent to their stout ash oars with a will, and fiveminutes later the boat was alongside the barque.
"Vot you vant?" demanded the skipper of the barque, which proved tobe the "Freya" of Bremen. "Your vessel is a prize of his BritannicMajesty's Government," announced Terence.
"Prize?--I no onderstan'," expostulated the master vehemently. "DisZherman sheep. Zhermany not at war."
"I'm afraid you are greatly mistaken," said Aubyn, as he swunghimself up the side by means of the rope ladder which the crew,unsuspecting the nature of the visit, although mystified by thedisplay of arms, had meanwhile lowered. "Germany is at war withGreat Britain, France, Russia, Japan, and Servia."
At the mention of each of these countries the skipper's eyes openedwider and wider.
"Mein Gott!" he exclaimed, and without another word turned on hisheel and made for his cabin, only to be brought back by a peremptoryorder from the young sub.
From the ship's papers it was ascertained that the "
Freya" had a mostvaluable cargo of nitrates and copper ore--a cargo that would be ofimmense service to the German army had the barque escaped the Britishpatrol. She was a hundred and forty-three days out of Valparaiso, andduring the whole of that time she had not spoken a single vessel;consequently her crew were in total ignorance of the European War.Gales and head winds had delayed her; water and provisions remainedsufficient only for three more days. She had been blown so far out ofher course that her master had decided to make a passage round CapeWrath rather than beat up the English Channel, and when almost insight of the North Sea she had been snapped by the "Strongbow."
Quickly the prize crew went about their work. The German seamen wereordered below; guards were posted at the hatchways and outside theofficers' quarters. The red, white, and black ensign of the GermanMercantile Marine was lowered and rehoisted under the British flag;canvas was stowed and preparations were made to take the "Freya" intow.
After a considerable amount of skilful and dangerous manoeuvring astout hempen hawser was passed from the prize to the "Strongbow," andwallowing heavily in the latter's wake the "Freya" was towed intoDingwall.
Almost the first thing that attracted Terence's attention on landingat Dingwall was a poster on which appeared the words "German Fleetattempts Bombardment of Yarmouth."
"Another rumour--I'm getting sick of them," ejaculated Aubyn;nevertheless, he bought a copy of the paper. He was wrong in hissurmise. It was a fact, not a rumour. Several German heavy cruisershad suddenly appeared off the port in the grey dawn, and had opened afurious fire. Unaccountably, it seemed, all the projectiles fellshort of their mark. A few, indeed, ploughed up the sand on theshore, but no damage was done. Everyone was asking, "Will the hostilecruisers get away safely?"
That same afternoon the news was received that the raiders hadescaped. The chances were eagerly discussed on board the "Strongbow."It seemed incredible that, in spite of the cordon of British lightcruisers and destroyers a dozen enemy ships should be able to retireunharmed after their brazen attempt.
"You fellows must remember we haven't official details," remarkedLieutenant Lymore. "Another thing: you know what the North Sea islike this time of the year, with the range of vision limited toperhaps a couple of miles."
"Think they'll try it on again?" asked Raeburn.
"No doubt. Encouraged by their being able to avoid getting intocontact with our fleet they'll have another shot at it, but let'shope they'll burn their fingers."
Before the "Strongbow" left Dingwall, after coaling ship, a mail,mostly of belated letters, arrived. Amongst them was one for Aubynfrom his chum Waynsford.
"I suppose you know all about our little excitement here atYarmouth," he wrote. "We were rudely disturbed from our bunks bytremendous firing, and when we turned out we discovered shellsdropping within five hundred yards of the shore. With the naked eyeone could make out the enemy ships fairly distinctly, and withglasses quite plainly. The shells could be seen falling all aroundthe little 'Halcyon,' and it was most marvellous how she escaped.Altering the position of those buoys the night you were heredoubtless upset the German gunners' calculations.
"The Press report that none of the shells did damage is incorrect. Ofcourse it may be advisable not to give the public full details, butin your case I think you ought to know."
"Almost the last shell fired struck your mater's house. Went rightthrough the dining-room without exploding and buried itself five feetin the earth on the other side of the building. Lucky you made yourparent clear out, wasn't it?
"I'm under orders to leave Yarmouth and report myself at Scarbro'.Goodness only knows what for, but 'orders is orders,' asCoastguardsman Smith is so fond of quoting. If ever you are withineasy distance of Scarbro' and get short leave, look me up.
"Yours most sincerely, "RICHARD WAYNSFORD."