CHAPTER VII
THE DAY FOLLOWING
"SAY, Snatcher, you're warned for D.B. party, ain't you?" inquiredStoker Jorkler. "D'ye mind if we change about?"
Stoker Flanaghan, commonly known as Snatcher, paused in the act ofconveying a knifeblade well laden with peas to his capacious mouth.Such a request--for a man to voluntarily offer to undertake thedisagreeable duty of cleaning and painting doublebottoms--figuratively "took the wind out of his sails."
"Wot for?" he asked guardedly. "Wot's the bloomin' move?"
"Only there's leave for the starboard watch, and I'm some keen to nipashore," replied Jorkler. "And you can have my tot of rum for a weekif you do."
"Wants considerin', Rhino, old man," declared Snatcher. "Wot pricethe lootenant of the watch an' the jaunty?"
"They won't twig," said Jorkler. "I guess the bloke don't know thenames of half the men in his watch-bill, and the master-at-arms won'tcare a brass farthing whether it's Snatcher Flanaghan or RhinoJorkler who goes out of the ship so long as he comes back withoutbeing three sheets in the wind. And trust me for that, Snatcher.You've never seen me fresh?"
"True, that I ain't," replied the man reflectively, "or you wouldn'tbe so keen on chuckin' away your tot o' rum. Orl right, mate."
"Thanks," said Jorkler briefly, and without further delay he hurriedoff to change into his canvas suit for double bottom work.
Before he left the mess he had transferred a certain object from hisditty-box to his spacious jumper. Then, satisfying himself that therewas no suspicious bulge to excite the curiosity of the officer ofdivisions, he fell in with the rest of the party.
Ten minutes later Stoker Jorkler, armed with a tin of red lead, abrush, some cotton waste, and a lighted candle, was surveying theoval-shaped aperture leading to a confined space between the outerand inner plating of the ship's hull. With him were a dozen others,similarly equipped, under the orders of a leading stoker.
It was not a pleasant occupation that Rhino had taken upon himself.In each of the cellular subdivisions of the hull a man had to crawlin as best he might, having first ascertained by means of the lightedcandle that the air was sufficiently pure. Unless the candle burntclearly, the place was dangerous to life. Stringent regulations werelaid down to prevent accidents, fresh air being pumped into thedouble bottoms, while men were always on the watch to see that theworkers were unaffected by the poisonous gases from the red lead.
"Right as ninepence," declared the leading stoker, referring to thelight that gleamed in the space to which Jorkler had been detailed."In you get, mate, and look slippy."
Jorkler obeyed. By dint of much writhing he succeeded in squeezingthrough the manhole. He found himself in a slightly curving spacemeasuring about fifteen feet in length and twenty to twenty-fourinches in height, and twenty feet or more below the level of the sea.
"Now, if the ship's torpedoed I'm a fair goner," thought Jorkler, buthe knew that that possibility was very remote. The steps taken toguard Auldhaig Firth from submarine attack were so elaborate andefficient that no hostile craft could hope to get in. Moreover, the"Pompey" was well up the longest arm of the harbour. Between her andthe entrance were at least half a dozen cruisers and twentydestroyers.
He worked with desperate energy, "scaling" off the rust, removingthe metal flakes, and smothering the plating with liberal doses ofred-lead. Then he paused and listened intently. He could hear thenoise of the men at work in the adjoining compartments. It was nowclose on eight bells (noon). By that time the work would have to becompleted.
"Guess I'm in luck," he soliloquised. "Unless I am much mistaken thispart of the double bottom is right bang underneath the for'ardmagazine. Pity it wasn't under the after one, but that can't behelped."
Turning on his side he extracted the "thing" from his jumper. It wasa high-explosive charge, to which was attached a small but powerfulbattery. The charge he placed in the furthermost end of thecompartment behind a tee-shaped flange. Here, unless deliberatelysought for, it was safe from detection.
His next step was to produce his watch. To all outward appearances itwas an ordinary silver timekeeper, but minute examination wouldreveal the presence of two small holes drilled through the back. Intothese holes he inserted metal plugs attached to two insulated wiresfrom the battery. One of the plugs projected beyond the facesufficiently to impede the progress of the hour hand, while theminute hand could clear it by a fraction of an inch. At four o'clockthe hour hand would come in contact with the terminal, the circuitwould be completed, and then----
"Nearly finished there?" inquired the leading stoker, shoutingthrough the oval aperture. "Just about done," replied Jorkler. "Howgoes it?"
"Close on eight bells," was the reply. "Buck up and don't keep mehanging about all the blessed day."
With the perspiration pouring off him and his clothes daubed with redlead and iron rust, Jorkler emerged from the compartment to find thatthe rest of the D.B. party had already completed their respectivetasks.
Lowering an electric inspection lamp into the compartment, theleading stoker made a perfunctory examination of Jorkler's legitimatehandiwork.
"You ain't half slapped it about," he remarked casually. "Guess youknew it was his Majesty's stores you were using and not your owngear."
After inspection by the ship's surgeon, who superintended the issueof a glass of lime-juice (in which sulphuric acid was a componentpart) to each man to ward off the injurious effect of the red lead,the men washed and changed. After dinner they were at liberty to dopractically what they liked, it being Thursday, or "Make and MendDay."
Just before five bells the liberty men fell in on the quarter-deckfor critical inspection before going ashore. As Jorkler had expected,he had no difficulty in passing under the borrowed name of Flanaghan,for the M.A.A. took it without question.
Packed like sardines, the boat pushed off. Halfway to the staith theypassed the "Pompey's" steam pinnace with a couple of officers and asmall party of ladies and children in the stern-sheets.
"What's the game?" inquired the pseudo-Flanaghan, indicating with ajerk of his head the passing craft.
"Bloomin' at-'ome, I'll allow," replied one of the men. "They takejolly good care not to let our pals on board."
Jorkler nodded sympathetic assent.
"They're looking for trouble," he muttered to himself. "How was I toknow? Anyway, that's their look-out, not mine."
On arriving at the quay the stoker slipped away from the rest of hisshipmates. Out of sight he stepped out briskly, making in thedirection of the hills at the back of the town.
"Where's Eric?" inquired Mr. Greenwood of Ronald Tressidar, as hegained the quarterdeck. The sub., engaged in animated conversationwith Doris Greenwood, did not hear the question until it wasrepeated.
"Eric? Oh, I really don't know. I'll inquire."
Doris Greenwood was a golden-haired, blue-eyed girl possessed of awealth of natural vivacity and an even-tempered disposition. Slightlyabove middle height, with a graceful bearing, she looked particularlyattractive in her nurse's uniform.
Already she was the centre of attraction of a group of youngofficers, who, while envying Tressidar for his good luck, wereinwardly reviling their comrade for his dog-in-the-manger policy.
"Seen Greenwood?" asked Ronald of an engineer sub-lieutenant.
"How about an intro?" inquired the officer addressed, ignoring thequestion.
"Go slow, old bird," rejoined Tressidar, laughing. "I'll introduceyou all in good time. If you want to be in her good books, find youngGreenwood. She's his sister."
"Brothers are generally in the way," retorted the engineersub-lieutenant. "Greenwood isn't: he's gone ashore. The fleet paysent him to the cashier's office."
Meanwhile, Doris had been unostentatiously taking stock of herbrother's messmates. Life afloat, she reflected, does make a man. Shecompared Tressidar most favourably in his neat and serviceableuniform to the Ronald of her early days. Then, when he wasn'tbashful, he was rude; now he was the person
ification ofself-possession and mental and physical alertness.
As for Mr. Greenwood, he remained in wondrous meditation of thevastness of his surroundings. Apart from his nocturnal visit to the"Pompey," he had never before set foot on the deck of a Britishman-of-war. The tompioned muzzle of the after 9.2-in. gun, thetowering superstructure with its array of quick-firers andsearchlights, the lofty masts and enormous funnels--all in turndemanded his attention.
The vastness of his surroundings almost overpowered him. He had noidea that an armoured cruiser was so immense.
That afternoon there were nearly twenty adult visitors, mostly of thefeminine sex, and a dozen or more children on board. It was not ausual procedure in wartime, but, giving due consideration tocircumstances, the captain of the cruiser had good reasons to believethat there was no danger to be anticipated. In any case, the visitorswould be clear of the ship before sunset.
The amusement of the children fell to the lot of the junior officers,and soon the gunroom resounded to the unusual sound of juvenilevoices. Two little boys, rigged out in fencing helmets and paddedcoats, were mounted on the backs of a couple of midshipmen and wereengaged in a realistic encounter with single-sticks--most realisticin the opinion of the human steeds, who had to bear the brunt of thewarriors' energetic and ill-directed blows.
Another pair of youngsters were belabouring each other withboxing-gloves, amidst the plaudits of the junior sub. and theassistant clerk; while a tug-of-war, boys versus girls, afforded vastamusement for the rest of the small guests and their hosts.
In order to make sure that the engineer sub-lieutenant was not"pulling his leg," Tressidar went below to the ship's office. Here hefound that the information concerning Eric was correct. He had beensent ashore with a party of marines to bring back sacks of coin forthe ship's safe.
Upon returning to the quarter-deck the sub. found Mr. Greenwood inanimated conversation with the commander on the subject of the raidupon the petrol-dep?t. Now was Ronald's opportunity.
"Would you care to look over the ship, Doris?" he said. "I can sparehalf an hour."
"Only half an hour?" asked the girl. "We can't see very much in thetime, can we?"
"I suppose not," admitted Tressidar. "But let's make the best of ourtime. I have to go away in the duty steamboat at a quarter to four.We have to fetch a lighter alongside from Inchbrail--that's threemiles up the firth."
"I wish I could go with you," declared Doris. "I simply love littlesteamboats. They are much more exciting than big cruisers lying atanchor. Couldn't I?"
"Must see what the commander says," replied the sub. "Of course I'dbe delighted. Only I'm afraid you'll miss your tea. They're making ascrumptious spread in the wardroom."
"I don't mind," said the girl recklessly. "I generally have tea atleast once every day, but not the chance of having a trip in asteamboat."
Doris was certainly a hustler, for in less than the stipulatedhalf-hour they had climbed the lofty navigation-bridge, peepedinside the conning-tower, soiled her gloves in the for'ard turret,and had explored the now deserted mess-decks. It took all theresource at Tressidar's command to persuade her to decline theengineer sub-lieutenant's invitation to descend to the engine-room.Only by hinting that if she did so she would be too late for theproposed run in the duty steamboat did Ronald succeed in "chokingoff" his super-attentive messmate.
"Miss Greenwood wishes to have a run in the D.S.B., sir," announcedthe sub., saluting the commander, who was still engaged inconversation with Greenwood, Senior.
"Very good," replied the commander. "Only be as sharp as you can. Wewant the lighter secured well before dark."
"I suppose, Mr. Greenwood, you wouldn't like a trip, too," askedTressidar in duty bound, although inwardly hoping that this part ofhis invitation would be declined.
"No, thanks," was the reply. "To tell the truth, I'm feelingconsiderably stiff. Bad enough climbing to last me for at least amonth. By the bye, do you know if Eric found my umbrella?"
Tressidar delighted his questioner by replying that Eric hadrecovered the lost property, but he hadn't the courage to continuethe story. The A.P. had brought the thing on board. Examinationshowed that the handle had been "sprung," the silk ripped in threeplaces, the wires bent, and, generally, damaged by salt water. SoEric had handed it over to the carpenter's crew for repairs andrenovation. The men did the job not neatly, but too well. The silkthey had patched with waxed seaming twine, re-waterproofing it by aliberal application of soft soap and linseed oil This was the outcomeof a consultation of the naval recipe book; but since there was nomention of how to waterproof silk, they had adopted the process laiddown for waterproofing canvas. The handle they repaired by"parcelling and serving" the fracture and concealing the tarredmarline under a long gunmetal tube. The remaining visible portion ofthe handle they scraped and varnished.
The A.P. could not quite make out whether the "repairs" had beeneffected as a joke or in real earnest. At all events he quicklysettled the matter by dropping the "game" out of a scuttle,intending to lead his parent to believe that the prized umbrella hadbeen lost on that momentous night. And now Tressidar had unwittinglylet the cat out of the bag.
The duty boat was fretting alongside the accommodation-ladder.Punctual to a minute Sub-lieutenant Tressidar boarded her andassisted Doris into the stern-sheets. From a manhole in the flatmetal engine-room casing a leading-stoker's grimy head and shouldersappeared, his curiosity excited at the appearance of the sub.'scompanion. He winked knowingly at the bowman and disappeared to hiscramped quarters below.
"Mr. Tressidar!" sang out the commander, leaning over the guard-railsof the quarter-deck.
"Sir?"
"Stand by a minute. I want you to take a packet of correspondence tothe 'Velocity.'"
Some minutes elapsed before the article in question was handed downto the boat. Bending and peering into the little cabin, Tressidarnoticed that it was already twelve minutes to four.
He nodded to the coxswain. The latter, ordering "Easy ahead," putthe helm over and the duty steamboat glided smoothly away from herparent ship.
"You'll be jolly cold," remarked the sub. to the girl. "It's awfullynippy, in spite of the protection afforded by the cabin top. Let mehelp you into this oil-skin."
Doris accepted the offer, Ronald taking rather an unnecessary time inassisting her into the voluminous yellow coat.
"That's all serene," he explained enthusiastically. "By Jove, Doris,it suits you splendidly."
"It's certainly more useful than ornamental," said the girl, as ashower of spray dashed up from the bows and drifted aft with ahissing sound. "There was once----"
Her words were suddenly interrupted by a dull crash. Instinctivelythe sub. and his companion glanced astern. A cloud of smoke partlyobscured the fore-part of the cruiser, as she reeled heavily to portwith the effect of a mortal blow.