CHAPTER VI
The Dummy Periscope
CAPTAIN STAGGLES interviewed the two delinquents separately. Theskipper was one of those men who are apt to bluster and browbeatwhenever occasion offered. It was his idea of imparting discipline.Popularity he scoffed at. He was, in short, one of a fortunately raretype of officer of the old school, who at the outbreak of the war hadbeen once more employed on the active list. To his disappointmentCaptain Staggles had not received a shore appointment, owing to alack of sufficient influence; and after filling various stopgapbillets he had been given the armed merchant-cruiser _PortchesterCastle_, whose complement consisted entirely of Royal Naval Reserveand Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve officers and men.
Unfortunately Captain Staggles did not possess sufficient sagacity torealize that there must be a difference between a crew, trained foryears in proper Navy fashion, and a body of men drawn from themerchant service. In both cases good material was present, but onehad been developed to meet certain requirements, the other had not.
"The point is," thundered Captain Staggles to Jack Osborne; "thepoint is, sir, you had to be on duty on board. You were not. You,instead, try to bamboozle me with some cock-and-bull yarn about aspy. Now, what have you got to say?"
"I take it, sir, that you insinuate I'm not speaking the truth," saidOsborne quietly, controlling his indignation with a strong effort."And that without giving me an opportunity of proving my statement."
"I take it, sir," mimicked the skipper, "that you don't realize thatyou've overstayed your leave?"
"Unfortunately, no, sir," replied Osborne. "It was my fault entirelythat Mr. Webb was in the same predicament."
"Very well," exclaimed Captain Staggles, raising his voice to aregular roar. "Now, don't do it again. Clear out, sir."
"But concerning the spy, sir?" began the Lieutenant.
"Don't want to hear any more about it," bellowed the skipper. "Thankyour lucky stars you've got off so lightly. Leave my cabin, sir."
Osborne saluted and withdrew. On the half-deck he encountered Webb,who was awaiting his turn "on the carpet".
"Reprimanded," announced Osborne laconically. "The captain won'tlisten to my explanation. Better luck, old man."
But Sub-lieutenant Webb fared no better. His attempt to throw a lightupon the night's work met with an equally curt reception.
"I believe the skipper's been drinking," said Webb to his chum afterhis interview.
"Since you mention it, I agree," said Osborne gravely. "I've known itfor some time, but I didn't like to give my chief away. We've struckhard lines in the matter of a skipper, Tom. You see, our temporalfuture lies entirely in his hands. If he sends in an unfavourablereport upon our conduct and abilities, we're done as far as theService is concerned. There is no appeal. However, we must carry onand do our duty."
Osborne had previously said that Captain Staggles was a keen officer.He had been; but retirement had blunted his zest and rusted hisabilities. Still rankling under the mistaken idea of injustice athaving been refused a shore appointment, the skipper had lostinterest in his work. He was content to rely mainly upon thestereotyped order "Carry on", and a non-committal "Very good" whenaddressing his subordinate officers. His formerly active brain,fuddled by intemperance, was no longer capable of controlling thedestinies of a ship's company. Had he been permitted to remain incommand the result might have been fatal to the efficiency of theship. Fortunately it was otherwise.
By some means the story of the adventure of Osborne and his chumreached the ears of the Senior Naval Officer on the Station. Heimmediately applied for a report from Captain Staggles, and thelatter had to admit that he knew nothing of the details of theoccurrence. The result was that Osborne and Webb were sent for, and,under severe cross-examination, had to reveal the facts of theirinterview with their commanding officer, and how the latter hadrefused to hear the report concerning the spy.
Two hours later Captain Staggles was ordered to undergo a medicalexamination and, found unfit for duty, was sent to hospital; theLieutenant-commander of the _Portchester Castle_ was given temporarycommand pending a fresh appointment from the Admiralty.
Jimmy M'Bride, Captain Staggles's successor, was a man of totallydifferent character and disposition. There was a humorous side to hisnature that the former skipper lacked. He knew his job thoroughly,regarding the men under him as something different from meremachines. He expected a high standard--and got it; not by aggressivemethods, but by example. He was always ready to consider a grievance,but woe betide the incautious man who attempted to impose upon him.
Already precious time had been lost, but M'Bride delayed no longer inacting upon the information that Osborne and Webb had gained from theGreek spy. Since the _Portchester Castle_ had not figured in the listof ships supplied to the kapitan of the German submarine, the armedmerchant-cruiser was detailed to take the place of a large tramp, thes.s. _Two-Step_, which was under orders for Marseilles.
Just before sundown the _Portchester Castle_ was, roughly, twentymiles east of Gibraltar. It was a calm, glorious evening. Not aripple disturbed the placid surface of the Mediterranean, save thelong, ever-diverging swell in the wake of the slowly moving vessel,for in the rôle of merchant-man the _Portchester Castle_ wassteaming at a bare fifteen knots. Three miles away and broad on thestarboard beam was the tramp, flying the red ensign. Already by meansof the International Code she had "made her number". Her course wasapproximately parallel to that of the _Portchester Castle_, althoughher speed was less by a good five knots.
"Spot anything?" enquired Osborne of his chum, as Webb kept hisbinoculars focused at something almost midway and ahead of the twovessels.
"Yes," replied the Sub. "A periscope, or I'm a greenhorn. Here youare, Osborne, right in line with the foremast shrouds."
"By Jove, you're right!" assented the Lieutenant. "I can see itdistinctly. Now who is she going for--the _Two-Step_ or us?"
"The _Two-Step_, I fancy," replied Webb. "It looks to me as if theU-boat's periscope is trained in that direction."
Quickly the guns were manned. A warning signal, "'Ware submarine onyour port bow", was sent to the tramp. The suppressed excitement grewas the _Portchester Castle_ drew nearer to her as yet unsuspectingfoe.
M'Bride was on the bridge at the time. Deliberately he delayed theorder to open fire. The gun-layer could, he knew, easily knock awaythat pole-like object, but that was not enough. The U-boat, even whendeprived of her "eyes", could dive and seek shelter until the dangerhad passed. Not until the submarine showed herself above the surfacecould a "knock-out" blow be delivered, unless the _PortchesterCastle_ could approach and ram her antagonist before the latter hadtime to submerge to a sufficient depth.
"Look!" exclaimed Osborne. "She's actually going to attempt to ram.Well, of all the cool cheek!"
The Lieutenant was correct in his assertion, for the plucky tramp,starboarding helm, was bearing down upon the vertical spar thatdenoted the presence of the otherwise hidden danger.
This manoeuvre interested Webb hardly at all. His attention wascentred upon the periscope. For some time he had been keeping itunder observation through his marine glasses. There was somethingfishy about it. He had seen partly submerged periscopes before, andthey had never behaved in that erratic fashion.
This one was stationary as regards direction. No feather-like spraydenoted its passage through the water. It certainly was not forgingahead. It was, however, rolling erratically, its centre ofsemi-rotation being but a few inches beneath the surface. Theperiscope of a submarine, if it were inclining in a vertical plane atall, would have a very different movement, protruding as it was fromthe comparatively huge hull of the vessel.
"It's a dummy periscope," he announced.
"Sure of it, Mr. Webb?" asked Captain M'Bride.
"Positive, sir."
The skipper of the _Portchester Castle_ did not hesitate. A warningblast from the armed merchant-cruiser's syren was followed by theperemptory signal, "Go astern instantly", while th
e white ensignhoisted aft imparted the necessary authority to the _Two-Step_.
An exchange of signals followed, with the result that the trampforged ahead once more, and, altering her course slightly, passedquite a couple of cables' lengths from the sinister spar that bobbedlazily above the sea.
"And there are half a dozen destroyers leaving Gib. to-day," remarkedCaptain M'Bride. "If they had sighted this decoy one of them wouldhave gone at it like a bull at a gate. We must risk it, I suppose.Away first cutter's and whaler's crews!"
The _Portchester Castle_ had to slow down to enable the boats to belowered. This in itself was a risky operation, since it was quitepossible that a real hostile submarine might be lurking in thevicinity, awaiting the opportunity to discharge a torpedo at thealmost stationary target afforded by the armed merchantman.Nevertheless the risk had to be undertaken. It fell within the scopeof the duties of the Royal Navy in its gigantic task of rendering themaritime highways as safe as possible for the sea-borne commerce ofBritain, her Allies, and of neutral nations.
Tom Webb was in charge of the cutter, his brother Sub-lieutenant,Dicky Haynes, having command of the whaler. The moment the two boatscast off, the _Portchester Castle_ pelted off at full speed,maintaining an erratic course to minimize possible danger until thetwo Sub-lieutenants had carried out their hazardous investigations.
Each boat had two hundred yards of grass rope trailing astern, theother ends being made fast to the bight of a flexible steel wire,which, by means of a couple of buoys, was permitted to sink to adepth of one fathom beneath the surface. Steadily the boatsapproached the dummy periscope, the cutter passing it to port and thewhaler to starboard at a distance of twenty yards.
Presently Webb glanced astern. The towed buoys were now quite closeto the upright spar.
"Give way for all you're worth, lads!" he ordered, while Haynesshouted a similar encouragement to the whaler's crew.
The strain on the grass rope increased. Then with a terrific roar acolumn of water shot two hundred feet into the air from the spotwhere the dummy periscope had been.
"We're much too knowing birds to be caught by that sort of chaff,"remarked a member of the cutter's crew. The man was right. Had anypassing vessel rammed the tempting-looking periscope she would havefound herself bumping over a couple of mines that, with fiendishingenuity, the Huns had lashed to the decoy in the hope that aninquisitive foe would be sent to the bottom. The trick was an oldone, but it added to the complication of perils which the Britishseamen have to face hourly in the frequently underrated task ofpreserving the millions of inhabitants of the United Kingdom from thehorrors of famine.