Produced by Al Haines
Cover art]
[Frontispiece: "THE BLACK CROSS FLAG WAS HAULED DOWN, AND REHOISTED UNDER THE WHITE ENSIGN"]
The Submarine Hunters
A Story of Naval Patrol Work in the Great War
BY
PERCY F. WESTERMAN
Author of
"Rounding Up the Raider" "The Dispatch-Riders" "The Fight for Constantinople" &c. &c.
_Illustrated by E. S. Hodgson_
BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED
LONDON GLASGOW AND BOMBAY
1918
Contents
CHAP.
I. THE MYSTERIOUS MEETING ON ST. MENA'S ISLAND II. THE TABLES TURNED III. KIDNAPPED IV. THE AWAKENING V. ABOARD U75 VI. THE TRAMP VII. ON THE BED OF THE SEA VIII. BALKED BY A SEA-PLANE IX. THE LANDING AT PORT TREHERNE X. A TREACHEROUS PLOT XI. PREPARATIONS XII. THE WHITE FLAG--AND AFTERWARDS XIII. THE ARM OF THE LAW XIV. A FRUITLESS QUEST XV. THE ADMIRAL WORKS THE ORACLE XVI. H.M.S. "CAPELLA" XVII. A DOUBLE BAG XVIII. THE SMOKE-SIGNALS XIX. THAT FRIDAY NIGHT XX. TO THE RESCUE XXI. ADRIFT IN THE CHANNEL XXII. AN UNEXPECTED CAPTURE XXIII. MINED XXIV. "SHRAP" XXV. OFF THE BELGIAN COAST XXVI. DISABLED IN MID-AIR XXVII. NOT ON PAROLE XXVIII. ALMOST RECAPTURED XXIX. BOUND FOR THE BALTIC XXX. THE AFFAIR OFF KIEL
Illustrations
"THE BLACK CROSS FLAG WAS HAULED DOWN AND RE-HOISTED UNDER THE WHITE ENSIGN" . . . . . . . . . _Frontispiece_
THE INTERVIEW WITH THE GERMAN CAPTAIN (missing from book)
"'D'YE KEN YON?' ASKED THE BRITISH SKIPPER, AS HE EYED THE PODGY GERMAN LEUTNANT WITH CONTEMPT"
"THE 'TREMENDOUS' WAS HEADING STRAIGHT FOR THE DOOMED SUBMARINE"
THE SINKING OF THE "ORONTABELLA" (missing from book)
"THE WORK OF DEMOLITION WAS ACCOMPLISHED"
THE SUBMARINE HUNTERS
CHAPTER I
The Mysterious Meeting on St. Mena's Island
"We've made a proper mess of things this time!" ejaculated RossTrefusis--"or rather I have."
"It can't be helped," rejoined his chum, Vernon Haye. "We've done ourlevel best to get her off. How long is it before the tide floats her?"
"A matter of seven or eight hours, worse luck. You see, it was onlyhalf ebb when we landed."
Ross bent down to remove a streak of bluish-grey mud from his ankle.
"I wish we'd taken the rowing-boat instead of this heavy old tub," hecontinued. "We'll be pretty peckish before we get back to the Hall,and dinner's at seven-thirty."
Vernon laughed.
"It wouldn't be the first time I've had to go without grub," heremarked. "If you don't mind, I don't."
"Then it's no use standing here," said Ross. "Let's get on our shoesand go for a stroll."
Vernon Haye was a broad-shouldered lad of fifteen, with clear-cutfeatures and dark hair. His companion was of about the same age, but agood two inches taller. His complexion was florid, his hair of anauburn tint that narrowly escaped coming within the category of red orginger. His features were full and rounded. In short, he was atypical Cornish youth.
Ross's father, Admiral Paul Trefusis, lived at Killigwent Hall, alarge, rambling, sixteenth-century house, standing within a mile of thesea on the North Cornish coast.
Both lads went to the same public school, but owing to the fact thatVernon's father, Captain Haye, was on active service with the GrandFleet, young Haye was spending the summer holidays with his chum atKilligwent Hall.
That afternoon the lads had taken a small sailing-boat and had made forSt. Mena's Island, a small rocky piece of land lying about a mile offshore, and nearly five miles from Killigwent Cove. The island wasroughly three-quarters of a mile in length, and four hundred yards widein the broadest part. The north and west sides were precipitous, buton the side nearest to the mainland the ground sloped gradually, andwas indented by several narrow tidal coves.
The glamour of romance lay thickly around that rocky pile. Centuriesago it was the abode of a hermit, who, amongst his various self-imposedtasks, had built a chapel on the summit, from the tower of which a woodfire was kindled nightly to warn mariners of the treacherous reefs inthe vicinity of the island.
In course of time, St. Mena's Island became the haunt of wreckers andsmugglers. The chapel, in spite of its massive construction, fell avictim to the ravages of wind and weather, but still served as aconvenient shelter for the lawless Cornishmen who profited by themisfortunes of honest seamen. Immune from interference, by reason ofthe superstitious awe in which the island was held by the country-folk,the smugglers and wreckers thrived exceedingly until late in theeighteenth century, when stern measures were taken to suppress theirmisdeeds. From that time St. Mena's Island was deserted, except forthe casual visits of tourists and summer visitors from the neighbouringtowns of Padstow and Newquay, and countless numbers of sea-birds thattake up their abode in crannies in the almost inaccessible cliffs.
Ross Trefusis was right in taking the blame of their misfortunes uponhimself. He knew better, but, neglecting to take ordinary precautions,he had allowed the boat to be left high and dry by the falling tide.Upon returning to the cove the lads had found the heavy craft lying onits bilge in the stiff bluish clay, with a ridge of jagged rockscutting her off from the sea.
"Perhaps," suggested Vernon, "some other boat will put off to theisland, and we can get them to put us ashore."
"Hardly likely," was the reply. "Anyway, we'll keep a look-out. Whichwould you prefer to do--explore the Smugglers' Cave and Dead Man'sCave, or climb up to the ruins?"
"The ruins," decided young Haye eagerly. "I like fooling about oldruins, and I've already seen the caves. Besides, we can see if thereare any boats about. It's almost like being shipwrecked on a desertisland."
"Hard lines if we were," commented Ross. "Suppose we take an inventoryof our possessions? Let the see: one pocket-knife, a silver watch thathas refused duty, a notebook and pencil, and five shillings and threehalfpence. What have you to add to the common stock?"
"A knife, a pocket compass, my watch--which does go; it's nowfive-and-twenty to four--and sixteen shillings and eightpence in papermoney and hard coin."
"Not a morsel of grub between the pair of us, then," declared Ross."Outlook beastly unpromising. Faced with starvation unless we make upour minds to knock over some gulls. They are horribly fishy to eat, Ibelieve, and we've nothing to make a fire."
"It makes you pine for the flesh-pots of Kllligwent Hall, old man,"exclaimed Vernon laughingly. "Never mind, let's make a move. I votewe get rid of these sweaters. It is frightfully hot."
Stripping off their woollen garments, and placing them for safety undera gorse bush, the two lads made their way up the steep ascent to theruins, till, hot and well-nigh breathless in spite of being "intraining", they reached the summit of the island.
"What a jolly view!" exclaimed Vernon, turning and taking in thepanorama of rocky coast-line, an expanse of jagged, frowning, brownishcliffs topped by the brilliant green of the Cornish moorland.
"Not bad," agreed Ross complaisantly, for the view was no stranger tohim. "See that cliff shaped like the head and shoulders of a beardedman? That's Hidden Money Cove that I was speaking to you about lastnight. We'll go there next week, all being well. You see, there's nota sail in sight, so our chances of getting back to dinner are veryremote. What's more, unless I'm very much mistaken, there's arain-storm coming. See that dark cloud working up against the wind?"
&n
bsp; "Yes," assented Haye. "What of it? A little rain won't hurt."
"It's the after effect," said Ross. "It's quite possible it may blowhard before night, in which case we're done for. I've known itimpossible to approach Killigwent Cove for a week at a time."
Vernon whistled.
"Sounds lively," he remarked.
"Of course that is in the winter," his chum hastened to remind him."These summer gales don't last very long, but we'll be feeling precioushungry by the time we get home, I guess."
"Look here," said Vernon after a while. "I vote we get those sweaters.We don't want to be soaked."
"Very well," assented Ross. "But there's no great hurry."
Having retrieved the sweaters, the chums leisurely retraced their wayto the ruins. For half an hour or more they wandered around theremains, descending into the dark crypt, and running considerable riskin climbing to the summit of the tower. Since the spiral stone stepshad vanished long ago, the only means of getting to the top was byclimbing the gnarled stem of the ivy which grew profusely on the faceof the building. The tower was roofless, a low, partly demolishedparapet encircling it on three sides, while a couple of weather-wornoak-beams supporting a few planks formed a kind of platform where theroof formerly existed.
"Think it's safe?" asked Vernon anxiously, as his chum, having gotastride the parapet, was about to lower himself upon the decrepitwoodwork.
"I've done it scores of times," said Ross confidently. "That's right,I'll guide your foot. Now let go."
"By Jove!" suddenly exclaimed Haye; "there's a fellow coming towardsthe ruin. How on earth did he get here?"
"Goodness only knows," said Trefusis inconsequently. "He may havelanded in Main Beach Cove. Anyhow, he's at perfect liberty to do so.I suppose he's interested in ruins."
"Let's drop a bit of stone and give him a shock when he gets here,"suggested Vernon. "We'll apologize afterwards. Ten to one he'll giveus a passage back."
"I'm not so keen on dropping chunks of stone," objected Ross. "I votewe lie low for a bit at any rate, and see what he's up to."
"Why, do you think he's a spy?" asked his companion. Trefusis gruntedscoffingly.
"Spy?" he repeated. "What object would a spy have on St. Mena'sIsland? This part of Cornwall is well outside the military area.There's nothing in the fortification line for miles. No, it's notthat. But _cave_, here he comes."
The lads crouched behind the crumbling parapet, and by means ofconveniently placed gaps in the masonry watched the stranger's approach.
There was nothing about the man's appearance to suggest that he wasanything but an ordinary holiday-maker. He was slightly above averageheight, rather heavily built, and inclined to flabbiness. Hiscomplexion was undoubtedly florid, although his face and hands weretanned a deep brown.
He was dressed in a light-grey lounge suit, with a straw hat and brownshoes, while in his right hand he carried a thick Malacca cane.
The exertion of climbing up the hill on which the ruined chapel stoodapparently told upon him, for he was considerably out of breath when hepassed under the ivy-clad arch. Here he stopped to wipe his face witha handkerchief, and while doing so dropped his cane.
It fell upon the stones with a dull thud.
At the same time the stranger gave vent to an exclamation thatcertainly was not English.
The lads exchanged glances. Here was the beginning of a mystery. Theheaviest Malacca cane would not have made that dull metallic sound infalling, while it was evident by the careful examination the strangermade of the retrieved article that he was more than considerate for itsappearance.
The man made no attempt to explore the ruins. The weather-worn fanehad no attractions for him. It was apparently only a rendezvous, asfar as he was concerned, for at frequent intervals he would walkstealthily through the archway, and look attentively down the hillleading to the coves on the side facing the mainland.
It had now begun to rain--big drops that were the precursors of a heavyshower. The lads, in their exposed position on the tower, paid scantheed. Their interest and attention were centred upon the anxiouslyawaiting stranger fifty feet beneath them.
Presently Ross happened to glance towards the stretch of water thatseparated St. Mena's Island from the mainland. A boat was approaching.Already it was more than half-way across. It was a rowing-boat,containing only one person. What object would anyone have in rowingacross on a wet afternoon like this? wondered the lad.
Just then the stranger began rubbing his hands with ill-concealedsatisfaction. Although he had been frequently on the look-out, he hadevidently only just caught sight of the approaching boat.
The lads watched the little craft till it was hidden by the interveninghigh ground, but already Ross felt certain that it was making for MainBeach Cove.
There were three landing-places on St. Mena's Island--Half Tide Cove,where the lads had left their stranded boat; Main Beach Cove, a littleto the north-east; and Deadman's Cove, farther away. Of these, onlyMain Beach was available between one hour on either side of low water.The fact that the boat was making for it, and had already successfullyskirted the submerged reef lying off it, proved that its occupant hadlocal knowledge.
Some considerable time elapsed between the temporary disappearance ofthe boat and the appearance of the new-comer; but at length he cameinto view, walking rapidly up the steep incline without showinganything of the physical strain that the first stranger had betrayed.
Suddenly Ross Trefusis recognized the man. He almost felt inclined tolaugh at his suspicions. It was Dr. Ramblethorne, the medicalpractitioner at St. Bedal--a town of considerable importance aboutseven miles from Killigwent Hall. The doctor was a frequent guest ofAdmiral Trefusis, and was generally considered a good, all-roundsportsman. He was about thirty years of age, over six feet in height,of sinewy frame and of great muscular power. He was the wildestmotorist in that part of Cornwall, as the endorsements on his driver'slicence testified. A keen golfer, good shot, and fisherman, he wasalso a botanist; and that, perhaps, thought Ross, might account for hispresence on St. Mena's Island, although it was difficult to reconcilethe fact that Ramblethorne had an appointment with a stranger at thisdesolate spot. If a joint botanic expedition had been fixed up, whyhad not the two men met on the mainland?
The unknown made no attempt to advance to meet the doctor. Instead, heremained within the ruins until Ramblethorne entered.
Their greeting was a surprise even to the lads, for the doctor, holdingout his hand, exclaimed in German:
"Well met, von Ruhle! Let us hope that your arrangements will provesatisfactory."