CHAPTER XV
A PRISONER OF WAR
AS soon as the Norwegian tramp and her escort were on the way to aGerman port the torpedo-boat resumed her station at the head of thestarboard line.
The British seamen had been sent below as soon as they weretranshipped, but Tressidar was told to go aft and await examination.
"You say your ship engaged one of our cruisers?" asked thelieutenant-commander of the torpedo-boat. "What was the result?"
"Your cruiser ran away," replied Tressidar pointedly.
"And then what happened?"
"The 'Heracles' stood in pursuit. An action was taking place. Wewere left adrift in the cutter."
"And the end of the action?"
"I cannot tell. Both ships were lost in the mist."
"Was the English cruiser torpedoed?"
"That I cannot say," replied the sub.
"It was possible. Were there any signs of one of our incomparablesubmarines about?"
"We saw one several hours later."
"Then it is certain that your 'Heracles' was sunk," declared theGerman joyously. Already he had decided to report that a party ofEnglish Seamen, the sole survivors of a torpedoed cruiser, had beenrescued by a division of the High Seas Fleet. He could imagine theintense enthusiasm in Berlin at the news.
He plied Tressidar with questions to elicit the information as to theexact position where the engagement started, but beyond the vaguestatement that it was somewhere in the North Sea, the sub. refrainedfrom giving further details.
"The fellow is obstinate," remarked the unter-leutnant to hissuperior. "Why not lock him up in the fo'c'sle with his men?"
"He is an officer, von M?ber," said the lieutenant-commander. "He isentitled to a certain amount of consideration."
"If I had my way I'd make it hot for this Pig of an Englishman,officer or no officer," declared von M?ber.
"You are over-zealous," said his superior. "These Englishmen treatour men who fall into their hands in a proper manner."
"Because they fear reprisals," added the unter-leutnant. "Once theybegan to ill-treat the crew of one of our lost submarines, but wesoon frightened them into better manners. That shows how the Englishfear the German arms."
The young German firmly believed what he said. Like hundreds of hisfellow-countrymen, he regarded the considerate treatment of Huns heldas prisoners in England as a sign of weakness, while, on the otherhand, severity towards British captives was looked upon as atestimony to the certainty of success to the German arms. Leniency toprisoners and to interned Germans in England, instead of raising aspark of gratitude in the minds of the kultured Huns, was accepted asa token of moral weakness on the part of the strafed Englishmen.
German submarines could--and did--torpedo unarmed merchant shipswithout warning; Zeppelins sailed by night over undefended Britishtowns and villages, raining death and destruction upon them. In bothcases these gallant exploits were hailed with wild enthusiasm by theGerman nation. Yet the humane British, refraining from reprisals of asimilar nature, were looked upon by the Huns as a nation afraid toretaliate, so that in the day of reckoning they would be able to makebetter terms with the All-Highest War-Lord. And this theory, fosteredby "inspired" newspapers, was held practically by entire Germany.
The lieutenant-commander of the torpedo-boat was an exception.Practically born and bred a sailor, his outlook was wider than thatof the majority of German naval officers, who are first and foremostsoldiers, and sailors by the will of their Emperor.
"While Herr Tressidar remains on board he will be treated with properrespect, von M?ber," he said firmly, then turning to his prisoner headded, "I do not ask you for your parole, but let me warn you that asentry will be posted outside the door, and that any attempt on yourpart to escape will certainly be discovered and with it yourprivileges will be withdrawn."
"Thank you," replied Tressidar. "I understand."
He turned and followed a petty officer who had been told off to showhim to his place of detention. Just as he reached the small ovalhatchway leading below, two heavy explosions in quick successionalmost burst the drums of his ears.
So terrific were the detonations that the sub., was for the momentunable to detect their source. It seemed as if the deafening noisecame from immediately overhead and from all sides of the torpedo-boat.The frail craft shook like a terrified animal under the rending ofthe air.
Then, to his unbounded delight, Tressidar saw the leading lightcruiser was heeling badly to starboard, her upper works hidden inclouds of smoke mingled with spray.
Following the explosions came a dead silence of nearly a minute, thenthe remaining ships of the German flotilla opened a rapid fire, theshells hurtling towards a dozen different targets that existed solelyin the heated imaginations of the gun-layers. So erratic was thefiring that more than once the German ships were in danger of beinghit by the projectiles discharged from the guns of their consorts.For full five minutes pandemonium reigned.
Meanwhile the stricken cruiser was still heeling. Already her upperdeck on the starboard side was flush with the water. Men wereclustering aft or else crowding into the boats that had survived theexplosion and were capable of being lowered.
It was a British submarine which had scored a couple of direct hits.In spite of the presence of a double screen of torpedo-boats,notwithstanding the prying eyes of the Zeppelins cruising over thefleet, a plucky lieutenant-commander of one of the "E" class had beenable to obtain a periscopic sight of the German flagship. Here was achance too good to be missed. He immediately gave orders for twotorpedoes to be fired. Either was sufficient to strike a mortal blow,for the first struck the target abreast of the foremost gun-turret;the second found its mark fifteen feet for'ard of the stern-post.
Without waiting to observe the result of the explosion, the submarinedived. To turn and speed away from her prey would be courtingdestruction, for her movements would be distinctly visible to theobservers in the Zeppelins, and the torpedo-boats, directed bywireless from the airships, would be rushing to and fro across thesubmerged path of the British submarine and tear her to pieces withexplosive grapnels. So her lieutenant-commander steered her so thatshe would pass underneath the German flotilla, and then, by compasscourse, kept in the track that the hostile vessels had previouslyheld. Here the water, disturbed by the propellers of the flotilla,was thick and muddy, and, forming an efficient screen for theZeppelins, enabled the British submarine to get clean away.
Long before the Teuton flagship had plunged to the bottom and thefurious cannonade had died away, the "E Something" was a dozen milesfrom the scene of her exploit.
The disaster had temporarily unnerved the Germans. Once again, inspite of their cautious cruise in neutral waters, one of the shipshad been sent to the bottom. And the irony of the situation lay inthe fact that had the ships not altered course to head off the"Freya" beyond the three-mile limit, the opportunity for the Britishsubmarine to "bag" a Hun might not have occurred.
Steering a zig-zag course and sheltering between the far-flung linesof torpedo-boats, the remaining German cruisers ran frantically forthe Kattegat and thence to the security of Kiel Harbour, while thetorpedo-boat in which Tressidar and the luckless cutter's crew foundthemselves prisoners parted company and steamed rapidly in thedirection of the island of Sylt.
It was not long before Sub-lieutenant Tressidar found that his ideasof hospitality differed considerably from the Germanlieutenant-commander's notions on the subject, for when the tumult onboard had begun to subside--and not before--was the young officersent below.
The "cabin" was little better than a metal compartment below thewaterline and immediately underneath the officers' cabins. Althoughofficially designated a torpedo-boat, the craft was almost equal insize to the largest British destroyer, her draught being not lessthan eleven feet. Built on the "cellular" principal, with doublebottoms and numerous transverse and lateral watertight bulk-heads,this type of vessel was considered by the naval architects of theFatherland to
be practically unsinkable, although already several ofthis particular torpedo-boat's sister ships had failed to come up toexpectations when cruel fate brought them within range of Britishquick-firers.
Save for a solitary electric lamp of low candle-power the sub.'splace of confinement was unlighted. Ventilation, too, was of the mostmeagre description, for the only air admitted was the already closeatmosphere of 'tween decks that filtered in though a small "louvre"over the locked door. Without a sentry had been posted, but the key,instead of being entrusted to him, was kept in thelieutenant-commander's cabin. Thus, in the event of the vessel beingsunk, it was fairly reasonable to assume that all chances of theprisoner being rescued depended upon the whim of the commandingofficer and the alacrity of the German sentry, even if time permittedfor him to risk his life for the sake of an "English swine."
Left to his own devices, Tressidar lost no time in taking minutestock of his surroundings. With the exception of a low bench, theplace was devoid of furniture. The inner skin of the hull plating hadbeen newly coated with red lead, and smelt abominably. In addition,some of the seams, working under the strain of the powerful engines,were "weeping" copiously, until the floor was flooded to a depth oftwo inches.
"Not a dog's chance of seeing what is going on," soliloquised thesub., as he threw himself upon the bench and drew his feet clear ofthe miniature lake. "I wonder what the game is? I hope, for my sake,and the sake of my men, that this hooker won't be torpedoed or minedwhile we are on board."
Tressidar was in a bad temper. The fact that he had been made aprisoner through the indefensible and high-handed action of the Hunsriled him considerably. If he had had the ill-luck to be captured infair fight he would, doubtless, have accepted the situation withoutdemur, but to be literally kidnapped without the chance of a blow inself-defence was galling in the extreme.
Several hours passed. Save for a visit from a particularly surlyseaman who brought the sub. a very sorry meal, Tressidar was leftseverely alone, to ruminate over his bad luck.
At length the slowing down of the torpedo-boat's engines told himthat she was nearing port, for hitherto she had been racing at topspeed and steering a zig-zag course. After twenty minutes, duringwhich the engine-room telegraph bell clanged as many times, thevessel came to a standstill.
Then followed another tedious wait. Apparently the Huns were in nohurry to land their prisoner. But, since there is an end to allthings, Tressidar in due course found himself being escorted on deck,preceded and followed by armed seamen.
It was still daylight. The torpedo-boat was berthed, in company withmore than twenty others, in a spacious basin. Surrounding theenclosed water was a broad quay, flanked with two-storeyed buildings.The entrance to the basin was, remarkably, on the eastern side orremote from the open sea. Evidently the approach was by a tortuous,intricate channel that skirted the southernmost extremity of theisland.
To the westward the outlook was bounded by a range of sand-dunes ofvarying altitudes. In some places they were about 50 feet in height;in others the grass-grown hummocks slightly exceeded double thatdimension. A short distance to the north-west was a lighthouse, around yellow tower perched upon a tall red cliff, that formed astriking contrast to the white sand-dunes on either side.
In almost every depression between the chain of dunes were heavy gunbatteries, while on a broad level road running parallel to the seaand about two hundred yards from the summits of the sand-hills werenumerous armoured motor-cars armed with quick-firers of widelydiffering calibres.
"Ah, I know where I am now," thought Tressidar as he recognised thelighthouse--not from actual acquaintanceship but from an intimateknowledge of the British "North Sea Pilot." "That's Rothe Klifflighthouse, so they have landed me at Sylt. Next to Heligoland, theycouldn't have chosen a stronger place to hold me prisoner. I wonderif they are going to keep me in some wretched prison camp in thecentre of the German Empire."
He looked in vain for the cutter's crew. The men had been landed andmarched off almost as the torpedo-boat was berthed, and were now ontheir way to embark in a small steamer for Hamburg.
The exhibition of captured British seamen in that paralysedcommercial port was a stroke of diplomacy on the part of the Germanauthorities. It gave colour to the official lie that a portion of thedauntless High Seas Fleet had boldly made a demonstration in forceoff the Firth of Forth The English had plucked up sufficient courageto leave their fortified harbours and give battle. It was a feebleattempt, and the British fleet broke off the engagement before theGermans could force a decisive action. As it was, a Britishbattleship had been sunk with all hands. A large armoured cruiser hadbeen sent to the bottom, a portion of the crew being rescued by thehumane Germans. While engaged in this work of mercy the Germancruiser had been torpedoed by a submarine. This was the fairy-talethat was quickly spread--broadcast from Hamburg to K?nigsberg andfrom the shores of the Baltic to the Swiss frontier.
Escorted by a file of marines, Tressidar was marched along the quaythrough throngs of curious and ill-disposed sightseers, of whom nineout of ten were in uniforms. At the end of the quay the escort turneddown a narrow lane and finally came to a halt outside a low stonebuilding, almost on the outskirts of the little town. The house stoodin its own grounds, which were enclosed by a tall iron fence toppedby a complex array of barbed wire. At the gate were two sentries. Twomore stood in the portico of the house, while others were much inevidence as they marched to and fro on the raised platformscommanding an uninterrupted view of the grounds.
Inside the fence and separated from it by a distance of twenty feetwas another barbed wire entanglement, while in the intervening spacewere several large and ferocious-looking mastiffs.
This was Sub-lieutenant Tressidar's first introduction to the navalprison of the fortress of Sylt.