The Monitors in Action
All that night the monitors lay, with lights out, off the outer bar of
the Mohoro Lagoon. A council of war had been held on board the
_Paradox_, when a fresh plan of action was drawn up. This was in
consequence of the information Denbigh, O'Hara, and Armstrong had
brought concerning the enemy's defences.
"This chart is radically wrong," declared Denbigh, when a chart of that
part of the coast was shown to him. "The bend in which the _Pelikan_
is lying is not shown. Apparently the topography is from an old
survey."
"It is from the latest available information," remarked Captain
Holloway, loath to deprecate the work of the Hydrographic Department of
the Admiralty.
"Available as far as the Germans would permit," corrected the sub
deferentially. "They've had full control here for years. I'm not
referring to the lagoon, but to the river. The depths, too, are
inaccurate."
"I suppose you wouldn't object to a job to-morrow?" asked the senior
officer, after he had listened intently to Denbigh's explanations and
descriptions of the details of the Mohoro River.
"Not in the least, sir," replied the sub promptly.
"In a sea-plane?"
"Just my mark, sir; but I've had no flying experience."
"We would want you for registering duties," continued Captain Holloway.
"You will have a flight sub-lieutenant as pilot. With your knowledge
of the shore batteries and torpedo stations you will be able to render
further important service. Very good; I'll arrange for the sea-plane
to pick you up at dawn; that is, if it is not too misty. These
tropical mists play the deuce with aerial observations."
It was arranged that the attack should open at seven on the following
morning. The _Crustacean_ was to lead the way over the inner bar, and
devote her attention to the torpedo station. The _Paradox_ was to
shell the batteries concealed in the mangrove forest, while the
_Eureka_ was to patrol the lagoon and to cut off any attempt at flight
on the part of the German troops, whose line of retreat would be pretty
certain to be along the coast, since the thick forests and marshes to
the westward made retirement to the hinterland almost a matter of
impossibility.
Two hours before sunrise the crews of the monitors were called to
"action" stations. They had previously bathed and changed into clean
clothes, and had been given ample time to enjoy their breakfast.
Clearing ship for action took but little preparation, since the
monitors carried only what was necessary as floating batteries.
At the hour specified a sea-plane taxied gracefully to within fifty
feet of the _Crustacean_. A boat was lowered from the monitor, and
into this Denbigh stepped, to the accompaniment of the somewhat
irrelevant remarks of his brother officers.
"Fine mornin'," was the flight-sub's greeting, as nonchalantly as if he
were passing the time of day with a casual acquaintance. "Hop in.
You'll find a belt fixed to the back of your seat. There's the
wireless gear. See that lever on your left? That releases the
paying-out gear of the aerial. Don't pay out too smartly. Ready?"
The blades glittered in the morning light as the propeller revolved and
rapidly increased the number of revolutions. Slowly at first, then
with accelerated movement, the sea-plane skimmed the placid surface of
the lagoon. Then, almost before Denbigh was aware of it, the machine
leaped upwards. The slight tilt of the seat was the only intimation
that the sea-plane had parted company with the water, until the sub
noticed the surface of the lagoon apparently receding with great
rapidity.
Round and round spiralled the frail contrivance, tilting with an easy
swinging movement as it climbed. Already the monitors looked no larger
than toy boats upon an ornamental pond. The irregular ground on either
side of the river was merged into an expanse that betrayed no
indication of height. Far beneath him Denbigh could discern a
ribbon-like strip of silvery-grey. It was the Mohoro River.
"Distance lends enchantment to the eye," thought the sub. "And it is
such a dirty river."
He mused feelingly. In his imagination he sniffed the foetid odours
from the torrential yellow stream. He had a mental vision of a swim in
the dark, with hippos and crocodiles for company. The reeking
mud-flats, too, lay beneath him, their dismal and monotonous aspect
obliterated by the charm of altitude.
Above the land the rapidly increasing strength of the morning sun was
causing great irregularities in the density of the air. The sea-plane
rolled violently. Twice she dropped through a sheer distance of a
couple of hundred feet, owing to "air pockets", but the pilot, with the
utmost unconcern, held her on her course.
Presently he turned and bawled something. The rush of the wind made
his words unintelligible, but he pointed to the aerial release.
Denbigh understood, and depressing the lever allowed a hundred and
fifty feet of wire to be run off the reel.
Leaning over the side of the fuselage the sub brought his glasses to
bear upon the waterway almost beneath him. He could distinguish the
fatal bend in the Mohoro River where the _Myra_ had turned turtle and
had been swallowed up in the shifting sand. He could even discern her
outlines as she lay on her side with ten feet of water swirling
overhead.
Farther down-stream was something that looked exactly like an island
covered with luxurious vegetation. It was the _Pelikan_. The disguise
was really admirable. Had Denbigh not known of the means her crew had
taken to hide her he would never have detected her presence.
But the _Pelikan's_ hour had not yet come. Until the shore batteries
and fortifications had been shelled out of existence she was to be left
severely alone. With the _Myra's_ crew confined on board the raider,
the British monitors dare not open fire upon her.
Round circled the sea-plane, gliding down to within five hundred feet
of the summit of the mangroves. Everything seemed quiet beneath. The
whir of the propeller and the rush of air deadened all other sounds.
Here and there were clearings, like to one another as peas in a pod.
For the first time in his life Denbigh felt uncertain.
Again he swept the river with his binoculars. Across the mud-flats,
for the tide was now almost on the last of the ebb, he spotted two
slender dark lines stretching towards the navigable channel. A little
way down was a series of small dark objects thrown athwart the stream.
They were the torpedo-piers and the barrels supporting the chain boom.
Almost abreast of them was the screened battery.
At a sign from Denbigh the flight-sub trimmed the elevating planes. Up
climbed the machine till at an altitude of six thousand feet she was
visible from the distant monitors. Then she commenced to cut figures
of eight, while Denbigh began to call up the _Paradox_ by wireless.
Having made certain that the monitor had gauged the required distance
the sea-plane volplaned to within a thousand feet of the ground.
The receiving telephones fixed to Denbigh's ears began to emit faint
sounds that in Morse spelt out the words, "Stand by to register".
Twenty seconds later a lurid flash, followed by a terrific cloud of
yellow and black smoke, leapt skywards from a spot in the mangroves.
In spite of her altitude the sea-plane rocked violently in the torn
air. For a moment Denbigh thought that the machine was plunging
helplessly to earth.
The gentle tapping of the wireless receiver recalled him to a sense of
duty.
"How's that?" spelt the dot-and-dash message.
Where the shell had burst a dozen or more trees had been literally
pulverized. Others, their trunks lacerated by the explosion, had
toppled at various angles against those that had withstood the shock.
The "hit" was roughly two hundred yards beyond the screened battery.
From beneath the foliage covering the emplacements men peeped
timorously. A dull-grey figure, bent almost double, was running for
shelter. It was one of the German sentries.
"Right direction; two hundred yards over," wirelessed Denbigh.
Another heavy projectile screamed on its way, passing some hundreds of
feet beneath the seaplane. It burst; but the sound like that of its
predecessor was inaudible to the pilot and observer. The action of the
detonating shells reminded Denbigh of an animated photograph, so
effectually and silently did the work of destruction appear.
"A hundred yards short," registered the sub.
"Then how's this?" was the rejoinder.
Fairly in the centre of an emplacement fell the twelve-hundred-pound
shell. High above the mushroom cloud of smoke flew fragments of wood
and metal. When the dense vapour had drifted away in the sultry air it
was seen that the work of that gigantic missile was accomplished.
A gaping hole fifty feet in diameter marked the place where the
carefully-screened quick-firers had been.
Round the edge of the crater were smouldering sand-bags hurled in all
directions like small pebbles. The two guns, dismounted, were sticking
up at acute angles in the debris, their mountings shattered into
fragments of scrap-iron metal.
There was no sign of life in the crater, nor in the partly uncovered
dug-outs in its vicinity, but from a neighbouring position poured
swarms of Germans, half-dazed and terrified by the explosion that had
shaken their subterranean retreat like a severe earthquake shock.
The _Paradox_ had completed her particular job.
Meanwhile a second sea-plane was registering for the _Crustacean_, her
guns being directed upon the piers on which the _Pelikan's_
torpedo-tubes had been placed.
Without once coming within sight of her objective the little monitor
effected her mission with two shots, blowing both torpedo-stations to
smithereens.
Nor was the _Eureka_ less successful. A shell fired in front of the
crowd of demoralized Germans as they fled through the mangroves
literally roped them in. Panic-stricken they doubled back and
disappeared in the dug-outs close to the wrecked emplacements, and the
_Eureka_, having been accordingly informed, ceased firing.
"Now for the _Pelikan_!" exclaimed Stirling, as the sea-plane, having
returned, put Denbigh on board the _Crustacean_.
"It will be an affair of boats, I suppose," suggested O'Hara. "With
the flood-tide and on a dark night she ought to be captured with little
loss to the boarding-party."
Two of the monitors were lying at anchor in the river. The _Eureka_,
having to watch the coast, steamed slowly up and down the lagoon, her
progress watched by hundreds of awe-stricken natives.
The question of how to deal with the _Pelikan_ was under discussion,
for Captain Holloway had convened another council of war at eight bells
in the afternoon.
The boats carried by the monitors were not fit for cutting-out work,
and although a certain means of destruction was at the command of the
senior officer, he was reluctant to put his terrible resources into
force on account of the presence of the _Myra's_ crew on board the
raider.
While the discussion was in progress, the majority of officers
favouring a suggestion that the light cruisers should be brought up by
wireless, a steam launch was reported to be coming down the river.
The launch bore a large white flag flying from a staff in the bows. In
her stern-sheets was Ober-leutnant von Langer.
Received with naval honours, a guard being mounted on the quarter-deck
of the senior monitor, von Langer came over the side, and announced
himself as the representative of Kapitan von Riesser, of H.I.M. ship
_Pelikan_.
"Well, sir?" asked Captain Holloway briefly.
"I am here to discuss terms," said the ober-leutnant.
"Which must be unconditional surrender of men and material," added the
skipper of the _Paradox_.
"Excuse me," said von Langer. "But we are not yet beaten."
"You are precious near it," said Captain Holloway. "Unless the German
Ensign is hauled down on board the _Pelikan_ within an hour I will open
fire."
[Illustration: "UNLESS THE GERMAN ENSIGN IS HAULED DOWN ON BOARD THE
_PELIKAN_ WITHIN AN HOUR, I OPEN FIRE."]
"If you do you must remember that there are many English prisoners on
board," declared the ober-leutnant with the air of a man who has thrown
down his trump card.
"Within one hour, unless the _Pelikan_ is surrendered in her present
state, without further damage to her stores, equipment, and hull, we
open fire," was the British officer's mandate. "Return to your ship at
once, Herr Leutnant, and inform Kapitan von Riesser that he must take
immediate steps to safeguard his British prisoners, either by sending
them down the river or else by placing them in a secure shelter on
shore. I shall hold your kapitan and officers morally responsible for
any of the _Myra's_ crew who may be killed or injured in the
forthcoming operations."
"You have yet to find the _Pelikan_," spluttered the German officer.
"Excuse me, sir, she is found," said Captain Holloway. "To show that I
am not in the habit of speaking at random I will produce proofs."
He gave an order to a seaman, who doubled off to the quarter-deck
companion-ladder. Presently Denbigh, O'Hara, and Armstrong, who during
the interview had discreetly gone below, appeared on deck.
The ober-leutnant's jaw dropped. His podgy cheeks quivered with
intense surprise.
"Donnerwetter!" he exclaimed. "This is a colossal shock."
With an effort he pulled himself together, clicked his heels and
saluted the British senior officer. Then fumbling in his breast pocket
he produced a document and handed it to the captain.
It was a formal surrender.
In it Kapitan von Riesser agreed to hand over the _Pelikan_ at the hour
of nine on the following morning.
"Very good," said Captain Holloway. "We are willing to give you a few
hours' respite, but you are to clearly understand that nothing must be
done in that interval that will affect the _Pelikan_ from a military
point of view. You must also send the _Myra's_ men down by boat before
sunset."
"To that I agree," replied von Langer, and stiffly refusing the
invitation to have a glass of wine the German officer went over the
side.
Von Langer's steam cutter was barely out of sight when a couple of
German officers belonging to the land forces appeared on the bank,
bearing a white flag.
Their business was quickly transacted. They desired to surrender
forthwith and unconditionally the remaining troops under their command.
Within an hour eighty-five men, many of them badly wounded, were
shipped on board the sea-plane parent ship _Simplicita_. Out of the
three hundred reservists who had transhipped from the _San Matias_ to
the _Pelikan_ but thirty-three were untouched by the British fire.
Well before sunset the first of the conditions of the _Pelikan's_
surrender was carried out. The steam cutter returned towing a whaler
in which were the crew of the _Myra_. British reticence went by the
board when they hove in sight. They cheered frantically like delighted
children. Having been under the talons of the German Eagle, they
realized more than ever before the world-wide power of Britain's
sea-power.
Amongst them was Captain Pennington, who was warmly greeted by the
officers of the _Crustacean_.
He reported that the _Pelikan_ was being prepared for surrender; that
her garb of palms was being removed, but as far as he knew no attempt
had been made to throw overboard the remaining guns, or to destroy the
stores and munitions.
"And to-morrow," remarked Stirling to his chum--"to-morrow we will
redeem these."
And he held out Kapitan von Riesser's receipt for the gold that he had
taken from the three subs when they were captured on the _Nichi Maru_.