CHAPTER VI
The Tramp
Like a startled hare the unterseeboot fled for shelter. Not until shereached a depth of fifteen fathoms did she check her diagonallydownward course. At intervals a dull booming, audible above the rattleof the motors, proclaimed the unpleasant fact that her antagonist wascircling around the spot marked by the phosphorescent swirl and theiridescence of escaped oil, and was firing explosive grapnels in thehope of ripping open the U-boat's hull.
Kapitan Schwalbe, looking very grey in the artificial light, wasstanding behind the quartermaster. His hands were clenched inmomentary apprehension. Beads of perspiration stood out upon hisforehead. He was experiencing a foretaste of the torment of the lost.
As a submarine officer of the Imperial German Navy he was a failure.Only sheer luck had hitherto saved him from the fate that had overtakenscores of his brother officers in that branch of the service. Skilledas he was in the handling of a huge liner, he lacked the iron nervethat is essential to the man who has to risk his life in a steel boxthat, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, offers no means of escapein the event of a catastrophe.
Yet he had to do his duty, notwithstanding his utter distaste forsubmarine work. He had had no option. The officers of the BritishNavy volunteer for submarine duties; those of the German Navy aresimply told off whether they want to or not.
The nerve-racking work was beginning to tell upon him. His orderscondemned him to a forlorn hope, for the English Channel was known tobe a death-trap for the under-sea blockaders. The sight of a trawlerfilled him with feelings akin to terror. The possibility, nayprobability, of a merchantman carrying guns made him approach hisintended prey with the utmost caution; yet, as he had remarked to RossTrefusis, he had never torpedoed any vessel flying the red ensignwithout giving her warning.
But it was not chivalry that prompted Schwalbe to act withconsideration. Had he been untrammelled he would have sent his prey tothe bottom without compunction, for he had all the brutal instincts ofthe kultured Hun. It was a superstitious fear that held hisfrightfulness in check--a presentiment based upon the Mosaic Law, aneye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.
Having placed a considerable distance between him and his attacker,Kapitan Schwalbe ordered the electric motors to be stopped. Theballast tanks were "blown", and cautiously U75 rose to the surface.
It was the best course open to her. The depth of the water was muchtoo great to allow her to rest on the bed of the sea. On the otherhand, in order to keep submerged, the motors would have to be inmotion. No one knew better than Schwalbe that the British patrol-boatswould be in a position to locate with uncanny certitude the presence oftheir quarry, unless the strictest silence were maintained by thefugitive.
So, ready to dive at the first alarm, U75 floated awash until suchtimes as were considered favourable for getting under way. Decidedlythis part of the English Channel was, for the time being at least,unhealthy; and Kapitan Schwalbe resolved to make for the BristolChannel, where the dangers of being destroyed by modern mosquitoes weremore remote.
Meanwhile Ross and Vernon had been sent back to the quarters in thealley-way, by the side of the motor-room. Not knowing the reason forthe U-boat's sudden submergence, and consequently unaware of the dangerthat threatened her, they formed the erroneous impression that thesubmarine was about to attack.
"The old fellow gave us a pretty straight tip," remarked Vernon, whenthe chums found themselves alone. "All the same, I vote we get out ofit at the first opportunity, favourable or otherwise."
"'Ssh," whispered Ross. "Someone might be listening. I don't see howyou propose to clear out, though."
"We were on deck just now."
"We were," agreed Trefusis.
"It was fairly dark. All the men up for'ard were lying down. It wouldhave been an easy matter to have dived overboard and swum for it, if wehadn't been twenty miles or more from land."
"There was a bright look-out kept, all the same," objected Ross. "AndI wouldn't mind saying that if the submarine were closer inshore,getting a supply of petrol, for example, we should be closely watched.All the same, I'm with you if we get the ghost of a chance. But it's arummy affair altogether. Fancy that chap knowing our names and therank of our respective fathers."
"Ramblethorne must have told him that," said Vernon.
"I suppose so; but for what reason? By Jove, if we get out of thismess all right, we'll have something to talk about--having beenprisoners on a German submarine!"
The lads were not allowed on deck again that night. Acting upon Haye'ssuggestion they "turned in", and slept fitfully until awakened by thenoise of the watch being relieved.
The seaman, Hans Koppe, brought them their breakfast. The mealconsisted of fish, coffee, and the usual black bread. By this time thecaptives had practically recovered from the effects of the injection.Haye's head was still painful, although the headache had left him.
They ate with avidity, owing possibly to the atmosphere of the confinedspace, which was highly charged with oxygen.
"What is the Captain's name?" asked Ross, when the man came to removethe breakfast things.
The sailor told him.
"Where are we now?" enquired Vernon.
The man winked solemnly.
"Afloat," he replied. "Be content with that."
Just then there were unmistakable signs of activity on the part of thesubmarine crew. Several men hurried along the alley-way, each with aset purpose. They paid little heed to the Englanders as they passed.
At their heels came Herr Rix, the Leutnant of the submarine. He wasbeaming affably.
"Goot mornings!" he exclaimed. "You come mit me, den I show you how weblockade."
He led the way to the compartment in which the bowl of thesupplementary periscope was placed. It was now broad daylight, andconsequently the bowl showed a distinct image. A junior officer wasstanding by, but on seeing Rix approach he saluted and moved aside.
"Look!" exclaimed the Leutnant.
Both lads peered into the bowl. On its dull sides, an expanse of seaand sky was portrayed. Beyond that they could see nothing, until Rixcalled their attention to a small dark object.
"Englische sheep!" he declared. "Now you vos watch."
He touched a metal stud. Instantly an arrangement of telescopic lensescame into play within the tube of the periscope, with the result that asmall portion of the view was greatly magnified upon the object card.It revealed a tramp of about nine hundred tons. She had a singlefunnel painted black, with two broad red bands; two stumpy masts, withderricks, and a lofty bridge and chart-house abaft the funnel. She waswall-sided. Her rusty hull was originally painted black. Here andthere were squares of red lead, showing that her crew had been engagedin trying to smarten her up before she reached port. Aft, frayed anddirty with the smoke that poured from her funnel, floated the redensign.
The submarine began to rise. Although she tilted abruptly, the imageof the tramp steamer still remained upon the object bowl. By aningenious arrangement, the lenses were constructed to compensate forany deviation of the tube of the periscope from the vertical. The ladscould see the bows of the U-boat shaking clear of the water, throwingcascades of foam off on either side as the passing craft forged aheadat at least eighteen knots.
Now, for the first time, the skipper of the tramp saw the danger. Hewas a short, thick-set man, with white hair and an iron-grey moustache,and a face the colour of mahogany. For an instant he grasped thebridge-rails and looked towards the submarine, then gesticulatedviolently to the man at the wheel.
The spikes ran through the helmsman's hands, as he rapidly revolved thewheel actuating the steam steering-gear. The tramp swung hard to port,with the idea of baffling the momentarily expected torpedo.
Kapitan Schwalbe acted up to his principles. In any case he was loathto use a torpedo upon a comparatively small vessel. In response to anorder, half a dozen of the submarine's crew swarmed on deck, threegoing for'ard and thr
ee aft. Within forty-five seconds the twodisappearing guns were raised from the water-tight "houses".
Ross, Vernon, and the German Leutnant remained gazing into the bowl ofthe periscope. The vision so absorbed the attention of the two ladsthat they hardly heeded the presence of Herr Rix, who occasionallyemitted grunts of satisfaction or annoyance as the scene was enacted.
The bow gun spat viciously. The range was but three hundred yards.The missile passed a few feet in front of the tramp's bows, and,throwing up a shower of spray that burst inboard on the Britishvessel's fo'c'sle, ricochetted a mile or so away.
The tramp's skipper showed his mettle. Round swung the vessel, listingheavily as she did so. By this time the call for more steam had beenresponded to, and dense clouds of black smoke belched from her funnel,mingled with puffs of white vapour as the siren bleated loudly for aid.
Running awash, U75 had a great advantage of speed; overtaking her preyshe was able to send half a dozen shells into the lofty targetpresented as she slid by.
Holes gaped in the thin plating close to the waterline. A shell,passing completely through the funnel, demolished the siren. Beingwithout wireless, the tramp was now without means of long-distancesignalling.
Another missile hit the chart-house and, exploding, swept the frailstructure overboard in a thousand fragments. The old skipper, hit by asplinter of wood, fell inertly upon the bridge; but the next instant hestaggered to his feet, bawling to the crew to get the hand-steeringgear connected.
"He's down again!" exclaimed Ross breathlessly, as the brave old mandropped upon the shattered planking of the bridge. "Hurrah! He'sstill alive."
The skipper had deliberately taken cover behind the slender shelterafforded by the metal side-light boards. By the frantic movement ofhis arm, it was evident that he was exhorting his men to "stick it"like Britons.
The hail of shells continued. Already fire had broken out on board inseveral places. A sliver of metal sheered through the ensign staff.Without hesitation one of the crew rushed off, retrieved theweather-worn bunting, and made his way to the mainmast.
Slowly and deliberately he re-hoisted the ensign until it flutteredproudly from the truck, then with apparent unconcern the mandisappeared below.
By this time the tramp was again under control, with a course shapedfor land, which lay about ten miles to the S.S.E. It was, however, aforegone conclusion that unless help were speedily forthcoming thevessel was doomed.
The tramp began to heel, almost imperceptibly at first, then withincreasing speed. She had received her _coup de grace_.
Still the engines were kept going full speed ahead. The dauntlessskipper remained on the bridge, with a look of grim resolution on hisweather-beaten features.
Slowly the vessel's way diminished. Her bow-wave, owing to thegradually increasing draught, was greater, but less sharp than before.In a few minutes the water would be pouring over her fore-deck.
Seeing that their work was completed, the pirates ceased fire, theguns' crews standing with folded arms and stolidly watching the trampas she struggled in her death-throes.
Presently a vast cloud of steam issued from her engine-room. Theinrush of water had damped her furnaces. The engineer and firemen,their faces black with coal-dust and streaming with moisture, hurriedon deck.
For another quarter of a mile the doomed vessel carried way, then cameto a sudden stop. As she did so she gave a quick list to starboard,until only a few inches of bulwark amidships showed above the waves.
Then, and only then, did the skipper give orders for the boats to belowered. In an orderly manner the crew manned the falls, and the taskof abandoning the ship began.
Without undue haste, the crew dropped into the waiting boats, each manwith a bundle containing his scanty personal effects wrapped up in ahandkerchief. The Captain was the last to leave. He did soreluctantly, his left hand tightly grasping the ship's papers.
Having rowed a safe distance from the foundering vessel, the men restedon their oars, and waited in silence for the end. It was not long incoming.
The tramp was heeling more and more, and slightly down by the bows.Suddenly she almost righted; then, amid a smother of foam as thecompressed air burst open her hatches, she flung her stern high in theair.
Even then she seemed in no hurry. The after part from the mainmastremained in view, the now motionless propeller being well clear of thewater.
For quite a minute she remained thus, then with a quick yet almostgentle movement slid under the waves. The last seen of her was theweather-worn red ensign still fluttering from the truck.
The periscope's bowl showed nothing but an expanse of sea and sky, andthe two boats rising buoyantly to the waves.
A grim chuckle brought Ross and Vernon back to their surroundings.Herr Rix was rubbing his hands and grunting with evident satisfaction.
"Goot!" he ejaculated. "Now, how you like dat? Now you see how weGerman make blockade, hein?"
"A brave deed," replied Ross scornfully, and, gripping Vernon by thearm, led him back to their uncomfortable quarters in the alley-way.