CHAPTER IV
THE SECRET PETROL-DEP?T
"NO, I don't want to meet Max & Co.--at least, not just yet,"soliloquised Mr. Greenwood as he hurriedly and silently descended tothe floor of the tunnel. His first thought was to retrace his steps,scramble through the opening and lie at full length upon the outsideledge, until he realised that the mysterious frequenters of the cavewould still be between him and freedom.
Then he remembered that there was a space between the foot of theladder and the end of the tunnel. It was not at all likely that thiswould be examined.
With an agility that he did not think himself capable of, Mr.Greenwood crawled between two of the steps and crouched in his placeof concealment.
Barely had he done so when the trap-door was raised. A flood of lightstreamed from above, although, fortunately, the flight of steps threwa strong shadow upon the recumbent form of Mr. Greenwood.
"You vos leave open der door?" inquired a guttural voice.
"Yes, Max," was the reply. "It's main heavy, and there's no call toexert ourselves to bustin'-point. No one'll come here after dark."
The speaker descended, holding an electric torch in his hand. He wasa short, thick-set fellow, dressed in soiled velveteens. He looked atypical gamekeeper.
The person addressed as Max followed. He was a tall, fair-haired,broad-shouldered man of about thirty years of age. He wore a longovercoat and muffler, a hard felt hat, grey trousers and brown boots,the latter being almost hidden under a thick deposit of mud.
"I've got a rope further along," continued the short man. "When theyanswer our signals and send a boat, I'll lower you down. Only don'tforget it's cash on the nail."
"Vot vos dat?" asked Max.
"The fifty pounds agreed upon. We'll signal at intervals, but don'tbe too jolly cocksure. They can't always be to time. If they show upafore four in the mornin', count yourself lucky."
The men, still talking, moved down the tunnel, until a bend, that Mr.Greenwood had passed without being aware of it, screened the lightfrom the place where he lay concealed.
"Now or never," he thought.
Extricating himself from his cramped position, he scaled the ladder.Then, with his head almost level with the trap-door, he waited untilhis eyes grew accustomed to the blaze of light.
The opening was placed in the floor of a room--the kitchen of asmall cottage, apparently. The two windows were heavily curtained.The door was secured, in addition to the massive lock, by a stoutoaken beam resting in iron staples at either end. The furniture wasscanty, consisting of a deal table, on which lay the remains of ameal and a large oil-lamp; three rush-bottomed chairs; a dresser, anda well-worn horse-hair couch. On one of the beams overhead were slunga couple of double-barrelled sporting guns. Opposite the door wasanother opening to a second room.
Mr. Greenwood's first impulse upon emerging from the tunnel was toslam the heavy trap-door and pile the furniture on top of it. But, hereflected, the men had a means of escape by the rope of which theshort man had spoken. Moreover, they would raise the alarm andprevent the approach of the expected boat, which, more than likely,would put off from a German submarine.
No, he must make his escape without arousing suspicion. It would bean easy matter to unbar the door, but since he could not replace thecross-bar after he was outside, such a step would be unwise.
Throwing back the curtain he tried one of the windows. It was alatticed casement. With a little agility he could squeeze through,replace the curtain and trust to luck that the unsecured window mightescape detection.
Two minutes later he was breathing the open air--a free man.
He looked about him. The night air blew cold. He had no idea of thedirection of Auldhaig. For the time being his quest for the cruiserwas out of the question.
Far away and at a considerably lower level two rows of lampsglimmered through the darkness. They were the anchor lights of thedecoy boats of the fleet lying in Auldhaig Harbour. The town and theactual ships were shrouded in darkness, but every night numbers ofsmall boats, each showing a white light, were moored at some distancefrom the fleet. At one time they might be placed half a dozen cables'lengths to the north'ard of the anchorage, at another a similardistance to the eastward, the idea being to mislead any Zeppelin thatmight attempt to drop bombs upon the harbour and shipping.
Setting his face towards the friendly lights, Mr. Greenwood began thedescent of the rough hillside. Before he had gone a quarter of a milethe irresistible yearning for a pipe assailed him. Turning his backto the wind, he struck a match, and was soon puffing contentedly athis gratifying briar.
Suddenly half a dozen dark forms pounced upon him. Before he couldutter a sound he was seized by a pair of muscular hands, and a hoarsevoice exclaimed:
"Now, then, wot's your little game? Flashing lights at this time o'night, eh?"
Mr. Greenwood did not immediately reply. His dignity as a respectableBritish citizen had been outraged. He drew himself up with as muchhauteur as the circumstances would permit.
"Allow me to inform you," he said stiffly, "that I will not be spokento in this dictatorial manner."
"All right, old sport, don't bust yourself," rejoined his questioner."Now, what are you doing here this time o' night? Wanderin' alongthe cliffs at ten o'clock wants a little explanation."
"As a matter of fact I was looking for H.M.S. 'Pompey,'" began Mr.Greenwood.
A roar of laughter greeted this announcement.
"D'ye expect to find her on top of a cliff?" asked the man when themerriment had subsided. "Look here, this is a serious matter. We'rethe Coast Patrol. We saw a light about a quarter of an hour ago andanother just now."
"When I lit my pipe," added Mr. Greenwood, who, still ruffled by hisreception, had decided not to impart the secret to the uncouth crowdthat had waylaid him; "and what I said about the 'Pompey' isabsolutely correct. I was directed along the cliffs, missed my way,and got cut off by the tide. My object was to visit my son, who is anofficer on board the cruiser in question. If you have any reason todoubt my statement, inquiries on board will remove all suspicion."
"You came up over the cliffs, sir?" asked the man respectfully, forMr. Greenwood's declaration that he was the father of a naval officercould not lightly be ignored.
"I did," replied Mr. Greenwood with studied pride. He did not thinkit necessary to explain how.
"Well, you're a game 'un, pardon my saying so. P'raps, sir, you won'tmind if we sees you back to the town. Dooty is dooty, an' we mustsatisfy ourselves that you are what you says you are. Got any friendsat Auldhaig?"
Mr Greenwood was adverse to causing his daughter anxiety at that timeof night. At the hotel he was known only as a stranger putting up fora few days.
"I'm afraid I haven't," he replied. "But, if it is not too late, Isuppose you could accompany me on board the cruiser?"
The men conferred amongst themselves; then the spokesman againaddressed the object of his suspicion.
"All right, sir; that'll be the best way, I'm thinking. Best footforward, sir. We may just catch the six-bell boat from the staith."
The speaker and another member of the patrol fell in on either sideof their suspect, while the rest of the party disappeared in theopposite direction.
"We are members of the National Guard," explained the senior of thetwo men. "'Tain't exactly a soft job, but it's something. Not oftendo we come across strangers on the cliffs after dark. When we do, wegenerally run 'em in. My word, I'd like to know how you got up herefrom the beach, sir!"
Mr. Greenwood declined the bait. He was well satisfied with the wayevents were shaping themselves. In spite of his misadventures and thelateness of the hour, he stood a fair chance of seeing his son thatnight.
Half an hour's steady tramp brought him and his escort to the staithor quay. Answering the challenge of the armed seaman on sentry, thepatrol men ascertained that the "Pompey's" boat had not yet put offto bring back a party of officers who had been ashore on leave.
Presently several
great-coated forms appeared through the darkness.Amongst them was the commander.
"Beg pardon, sir," said the sentry. "Three civilians require passageto the 'Pompey.'"
"Eh, what?" queried the commander. "At this time of night? What for?Who are they?"
Mr. Greenwood seized the opportunity by explaining to the navalofficer that he had urgent reasons for seeing his son--AssistantPaymaster Eric Greenwood, R.N.R.
"Personal reasons?" asked the commander. "I am afraid you will haveto defer your visit till the morning. Sorry; but personalconsiderations have to stand aside in wartime. And who might yourcompanions be?"
"My--er--my goalers, I suppose I must term them," explained Mr.Greenwood. "I am, I believe, under arrest. In addition to personalreasons I have a matter of national importance which I wish to bringto the notice of the authorities. Since I know only two peopleconnected with the service, both of whom are officers on the'Pompey,' I thought---- But I'd rather explain to you alone."
The commander hesitated. He was a genial man, ready to do anyone agood turn. If, however, he took the responsibility of introducing acivilian on board on the strength of what might prove to be acock-and-bull story, he might be rapped over the knuckles by theAdmiralty--and, he reflected, being rapped over the knuckles by MyLords generally resulted in the sting remaining for many a long day.
"Why not make your report to the flag captain?" suggested thecommander suavely. "His shore office is open day and night, and thatwould save you a tedious boat journey on a cold night like this."
Mr. Greenwood could be very obstinate when occasion arose. Havinggone thus far, he was determined to see the business through in themanner he had intended.
"No, sir," he replied. "I do not want to run about after flagcaptains at this hour of the night. If you cannot see your way clearto accede to my request, the important matter of which I hinted mustwait. The responsibility which is no light one--will be transferredto other shoulders."
It was the turn of the commander to be taken aback. He was not usedto be talked to like this by civilians. He tried to fix themiddle-aged gentleman with his best quarter-deck glare, but thedarkness foiled him. Had he been able to see the dishevelledindividual in the light he would doubtless have come to theconclusion that he was being tackled by a person with an unhingedmind.
"Very well--carry on," he exclaimed. "Here's the boat. Coxswain!assist this gentleman into the stern-sheets."
"And us, sir?" began the National Guard, but the naval officer"choked him off."
"No, no," he interrupted hurriedly. "I'll be responsible foryour--er--prisoner."
Guided by the coxswain, Mr. Greenwood stepped off the quay into thestern-sheets of the picquet-boat. In fifteen seconds he found himselfsandwiched between two young officers, while another half a dozencompletely crowded out the strictly limited space.
The coxswain sounded a bell in the engine-room. The engines werereversed and the long, lean boat backed from the quay. Then, at fullspeed ahead, she glided rapidly, without lights, through the pitchdark waters of Auldhaig Harbour.