CHAPTER VII
On the Bed of the Sea
For the next twenty-four hours nothing exciting occurred. The U-boatkept to the surface as much as possible, running under her petrolmotors at fifteen knots. To exceed that pace would mean too great aconsumption of fuel, and already the vessel was short of petrol.
Kapitan Schwalbe was prone to act on the side of extreme caution.Having sunk one vessel, he would not tackle another in the samevicinity. He invariably put at least a hundred miles between him andthe scene of his latest ignominious exploit before attempting anotheract of kultur.
Three times during that twenty-four hours he dived: twice on sightingwhat were unquestionably Bristol Channel pilot-boats, and on the thirdoccasion when a Penzance lugger under motor-power (for it was a deadcalm) crossed his track.
All this time a regular stream of shipping was passing up and down theBristol Channel, as unconcernedly as in the piping days of peace. Toanyone but a bumptious German, the sight would have told its own tale;for the British Mercantile Marine, used to danger and difficulties, wasnot to be deterred by the "frightfulness" of von Tirpitz's blockade.On the contrary, the possibility of falling in with a hostile submarinegave an unwonted spice to the everyday routine of the toilers of thesea.
After breakfast on the following morning Ross and Vernon were told togo on deck. The sea was still calm, and the submarine, now runningawash at full speed, was cleaving the water with practically dry decks.
The lads soon realized what was in progress. A couple of miles awaywas a large ocean cargo-boat, outward bound, and U75 was in pursuit.
Trefusis and his chum were not allowed for'ard, where the quick-firerwas already in position for opening fire. They were ordered abaft theconning-tower, the hatch of which was open.
Kapitan Schwalbe's head and shoulders could be seen projecting abovethe opening. On the raised grating surrounding the conning-tower,stood a boyish-looking Unter-leutnant. Hermann Rix was nowhere to beseen. Apparently his duties compelled him to remain below.
Presently the quick-firer barked, and a projectile struck the waterabout a hundred yards from the starboard side of the pursued vessel.With the discharge of the gun, a sailor hoisted the black cross ensignof Germany from a small flagstaff aft, while a signal in theInternational Code ordering the British vessel to heave to instantlyfluttered from the light mast immediately abaft the conning-tower.
The only response from the chase was the hoisting of the red ensign,for previously she had shown no colours. Slowly, defiantly, thebunting was hauled close up, and ironically "dipped" three times.
Again and again the submarine's bow-chaser fired. The shells were wellaimed as regards direction, but all fell short. Imperceptibly themerchantman had increased distance.
"Look at the fools!" Ross heard the Kapitan remark, as he kept hisbinoculars focused on his intended prey. "They are trying to snapshotus. Are all Englishmen so blind to peril?"
"Are you sure they haven't a couple of quick-firers mounted aft, sir?"asked the Unter-leutnant. "There are several men gathered roundsomething on the poop."
"Himmel, I hope not!" ejaculated Schwalbe. "But no; had they any gunsthey would have opened fire before now. What is the matter with ourgun-layer? It is about time he got a shell home."
The Unter-leutnant lowered himself on the foredeck, and shouted angrilyat the seaman whose duty it was to "lay" the bow-chasers. The managain bent over the sights.
This time the shell pitched ahead of the chase, but slightly to port.Some of the spray thrown up by the projectile fell on board.
"Is that the best you can do, you brainless idiot?" shouted Schwalbewrathfully. Now that he was in pursuit he was loath to be baffled, butat the same time he realized that the submarine was using a lot ofprecious fuel and a prodigious amount of ammunition without anydefinite result.
In the midst of his torrent of abuse directed upon the lucklessgun-layer, Kapitan Schwalbe suddenly stopped. Gripping the rim of theoval hatchway he gazed, horror-stricken, at two objects bobbing in thewater directly in the path of the submarine. Then, recovering hisvoice, he shouted to the quartermaster to port helm.
The fellow obeyed promptly, but it was too late. Practicallysimultaneously, two barrels swung round and crashed alongside thesubmarine's hull.
Officers and men, expecting momentarily to find themselves blown intothe air, stood stock-still. Then, as nothing so disastrous occurred,Schwalbe gave orders for easy astern.
The barrels, connected by a span of grass rope, had been thrownoverboard from the pursued vessel, in the hope that the submarine wouldfoul her propellers in the tangle of line. Once a blade picked up thattrailing rope, the latter would coil round the boss as tightly as aband of flexible steel.
The plan all but succeeded; only the metal guards protecting thepropellers saved them from being hopelessly jammed. Yet the attemptwas attended with good results as far as the British ship wasconcerned, for by the time U75 had lost way and had cautiously backedaway from the obstruction, the swift cargo-vessel had gained a distancethat put her beyond all chance of being overhauled.
Infuriated by his failure, Kapitan Schwalbe went aft and descended intohis cabin. He was hardly conscious of the presence of his twoinvoluntary guests as he passed. He was thinking of the fate that hadconsigned him to a perilous and uncongenial task. Without doubt thevessel he had been pursuing was equipped with wireless, and by thistime a number of those dreaded hornets would be tearing towards thespot. To add to his discomfiture it was reported to him that thereserve of fuel on board had seriously dwindled. In order to remaineffective it was necessary that U75 should replenish her tanks beforeanother forty-eight hours had passed.
According to his customary tactics, Schwalbe ordered the submarine todive to sixty feet. At that depth she would be safe from anypossibility of being rammed. Provided she could avoid the under-waterobstructions with which the British naval authorities had sown the bedof the sea at almost every point likely to be frequented by lurkinghostile submarines, she was in no actual danger.
Gaining his diminutive cabin, Schwalbe by sheer force of habitconsulted the aneroid. The mercury was falling rapidly. Since he lastlooked, barely two hours previously, it had dropped 764 to 734millimetres, or an inch and two-tenths. That meant that theanti-cyclone was rapidly breaking up, and that a severe gale wasapproaching with considerable swiftness.
U75 must submerge and seek shelter. It was impossible for her to keepat a uniform depth unless she maintained steerage-way; that meant agreat demand upon her storage batteries. She could not remain on thebottom of the sea in a heavy gale, owing to the constant "pumping" orup-and-down movements caused by the varying pressure of passing waves,unless she sought a sheltered roadstead--and sheltered roadsteads weregenerally mined, or guarded by some ingenious device that had alreadyaccounted for several of U75's consorts.
Producing a chart of the Bristol Channel, Schwalbe unfolded and spreadit upon a table. Then, in conjunction with a translation of the latestBritish Admiralty guide to the west coast of England, he proceeded toselect what he hoped would be a snug shelter during the coming storm.
"Herr Rix!" he shouted. "I'll make for this anchorage. There's everyindication of a strong blow from the nor'-east."
"This" was Helwick Channel, a deep, almost blind passage between theGlamorgan coast and an outlying submerged reef known as the East andWest Helwick. In fine weather it was a short cut for traders plyingbetween Llanelly and Swansea. In bad weather it was a place to beavoided, as far as sailing vessels were concerned. Sheltered by thebold outlines of Worm's Head, it ought to prove an ideal lurking-placeuntil the gale had blown itself out, for there was little danger of theplace being used as an anchorage, since vessels preferred to give therock-bound coast a wide berth. On this account, it was also highlyprobable that the Helwick channel had not been safe-guarded by theBritish naval authorities.
Just before sunset, U75, having made the passage unobserved, brought u
pin twelve fathoms of water, resting evenly on the firm, hard sands atthe bottom.
Ross and his chum turned in early. There was nothing for them to do.They held aloof from the crew; there were no books to entertain them,no games to amuse them. The submarine was now motionless, sufficientwater ballast having been taken in to allow her to settle firmly uponthe bottom; but, in order to be prepared, the anchor was let go. Thusnot the slightest movement of the hull was apparent. The rest, afterhours of erratic movement on the oily swell, was a welcome one.
The lads had set their joint watch by the submarine's time, which,being mid-European standard, was one hour fast of Greenwich.
For several hours they slept soundly and undisturbed. Suddenly theywere both awakened by the muffled tramp of men in heavy sea-boots. Thesolitary light in the alley-way was switched off; the water-tight doorswere firmly closed. Already the air in the confined space was stifling.
"What has happened?" asked Vernon anxiously, for the vessel, instead ofresting immovably upon the bed of the channel, was now rollingsluggishly. Yet she could not be under way, for the motors were silent.
Springing from his bunk, Ross felt for the switch of the electriclight. It was already down, yet the flow of current was interrupted.
"Let's find out," he said. "Come along."
The lads, before turning in, had carefully laid out their clothes, soas to be ready to slip into them at a moment's notice, yet it was amatter of considerable difficulty to dress in the dark.
"The door's closed," announced Ross as the lads groped their way to theend of the alley-way.
"I believe the submarine's holed," suggested Haye.
"No; she wouldn't lift as she's doing. Besides, the crew are movingabout. Let's bang on the door with our boots."
For several minutes they hammered, but without result. The air, neververy fresh, was now almost unbearable, owing to lack of ventilation.The imprisoned youths began to get desperate.
Then, without warning, the door slid back. The alley-way was floodedwith brilliant light.
"Make haste!" shouted a voice which the lads recognized as that of HansKoppe. At the same time he grasped Ross by the shoulder and literallydragged him across the steel threshold. Vernon followed quickly, butbarely had he gained the compartment beyond than the massive steel doorshot back again.
"Didn't you hear the order all hands for'ard?" asked Hans, notunkindly, for the white faces of the English lads told their own tale.
"No," replied Ross. "Besides, we are not included in the 'hands', arewe?"
"You'll have to bear the consequences if you don't obey," rejoinedKoppe. "I'm supposed to be looking after you, but how was I to knowyou hadn't turned out? Fortunately for you, I heard your knocking, andasked Herr Kapitan to open the doors. He was angry, but did so."
"What has happened then?" asked Trefusis, for the seaman seemed in acommunicative mood.
"A shift of wind. It's blowing great guns up aloft, and there's aterrific tumble into this channel. We've dragged, or, rather, swunground our anchor."
"But we are safe enough?" asked Vernon.
"Yes, safe," replied Hans. "Too safe; we cannot break out our anchor.They are sending a diver to see what is amiss."
Evidently the diving arrangements on board were not considered to be ofa confidential nature, for Hans led the way to the compartment underthe fore-hatch, without the lads being sent back by the significantword "verboten".
A man was preparing for a submarine walk. He was already dressed in anindia-rubber suit, with leaden weights attached to his chest, back, andboots. Two others were standing by, ready to place the helmet over hishead, when Leutnant Rix had finished giving him minute directions.
The officer spoke rapidly and in a low tone. Ross could not catch allhe said, but the words "gefaehrliche Stroemungen" (dangerous currents)and "Der Wendepunkt der Flut" (slack water) and "Drei Viertel funf" (aquarter to five) occurred frequently.
Vernon glanced at his watch. It was then a minute after four.Apparently Rix was impressing upon the man that he must clear theanchor at slack water, which occurred at a quarter to five.
The two attendants then proceeded to place the diver's helmet on hishead. The lads noticed that it had neither air-tube nor telephonewire. Nor was there a life-line attached to his waist. Fresh air wasobtained from a metal case strapped to his back. The man was able towork independently, and without having to rely upon his air supply fromthe submarine.
The oval door in the diving-chamber was thrown open. The diverentered, and the water-tight panel was quickly replaced. One of theseamen thrust over a short lever, and immediately water rushed into thesmall compartment. As soon as the space was filled the diver was ableto open a similar door in the outer plating of the submarine, and thusgain the bed of the sea.
Presently Leutnant Rix turned, and saw for the first time that Ross andVernon were discreetly standing in the background.
"Go away. It is forbidden!" he shouted angrily.
They obeyed promptly, retreating to the space allotted to the crew,since it was neither desirable nor possible to return to their bunks.
For some minutes the luckless Hans Koppe was subjected to a severedressing-down by his hot-headed officer, and when at length the seamanrejoined the lads he was in no humour to resume conversation.
Slowly the minutes sped. The submarine was still rolling sluggishly,in spite of the fact that more water had been admitted into the ballasttanks.
The men were talking seriously amongst themselves. From scraps ofconversation that drifted to the lads' ears, it was evident that theyhad grave doubts concerning the ability of the diver to perform histask, and even of his chances of regaining the submarine, owing to theviolent disturbances of the water.
Presently the motion of the anchored submarine became more acute. Aweird grating sound--the noise made by the hull rasping over the bed ofthe sea--was distinctly audible.
One of the seamen produced a pocket compass. His startled exclamationbrought other members of the crew around him. The magnetic needle wasapparently describing a semicircle. U75 was swinging round her anchor.
Just then a bell tinkled, and a disc oscillated on the indicator boardon the bulkhead. Instantly the two men who had been told off asattendants upon the diver hurried aft, while their companions crowdedexpectantly around the door.
The two men came back, staggering under the weight of the diver. Theyhad already removed his head-dress and leaden weights. Water droppedfrom his rubber suit. His face was livid, his eyes wide open androlling. One of his bare hands was streaked with blood that flowedsullenly from a cut in his numbed flesh.
Kapitan Schwalbe and Leutnant Rix followed him into the crew-space. Itwas not through feelings of compassion that they had come for'ard. Itwas acute anxiety to hear the diver's report.
The luckless man was laid upon the mess-table. His attendants divestedhim of his diving-suit, and rubbed his body with rough towels. A pettyofficer poured half a glass of brandy down his throat.
"What is amiss?" Kapitan Schwalbe kept on repeating.
With a great effort the diver sat up.
"An anchor, sir," he gasped feebly. "An anchor--an English navalpattern one--has been dropped right over ours. A very big one."
Then his eyes closed, and he fell back unconscious.
"Gott in Himmel!" ejaculated Rix. "We are trapped!"