Aboard U75
Like Ross, Vernon Haye made a poor meal. He had barely finished when a
petty officer appeared and curtly ordered the lads to follow him.
Since he did so in German it was fairly certain that Trefusis'
admission had been communicated to both officers and crew.
Staggering, they passed along the alley-way into a broad subdivision
that extended completely athwartships. It was one of the two broadside
torpedo-rooms, and contained two tubes of slightly greater diameter
than the British 21-inch. In "launching-trays" by the side of the
tubes were eight torpedoes with their deadly war-heads attached. Both
transverse bulkheads were almost hidden by indicators, voice-tubes, and
pipes for transmitting the compressed air from the air-flasks to the
torpedo-tubes.
Passing through another water-tight door the prisoners found themselves
in yet another compartment. On one side was an "air-lock", with its
complement of life-saving helmets; on the other was an oval-shaped door
forming means of communication with the small room built against the
curved sides of the submarine. Ross guessed, and rightly as it
afterwards transpired, that the door led into a space that could be
flooded at will, and which in turn enabled a diver to operate from the
U-boat while submerged.
Confronting the lads was an almost perpendicular steel ladder
communicating with the conning-tower. Their guide was about to ascend
when a stern voice exclaimed in German:
"Not that, you idiotic clodhopper! Have you lost your reason? The
forward hatchway, don't you know?"
"Pardon, Herr Leutnant," said the petty officer, abjectly apologetic,
and, backing down the ladder, he passed through another door entering
into an alley-way between the officers' cabins. Here was the bowl of a
supplementary periscope, so that a vision of what was taking place
could be obtained without going into the conning-tower.
The alley-way terminated at another broadside torpedo-room, the pairs
of tubes pointing in the opposite direction to those the lads had just
seen.
Beyond were the living-quarters of the crew, kept spotlessly clean and
tidy, yet Spartan-like in their simplicity. Two of the men were sound
asleep in their bunks. Three more, who were playing cards at a plain
deal table, glanced up from their game as the British lads passed by;
but their interest was of brief duration, and stolidly they resumed
their play.
Stooping down to avoid a large metal trough--the "house" for the
for'ard 105-millimetre disappearing gun--Ross and his chum arrived at
the ladder by which they were to gain the open air.
The hatch-cover was thrown back. For the first time during their
captivity they made the discovery that it was night. Looking upwards,
they could see a rectangle of dark sky twinkling with stars that, with
the slight motion of the submarine, appeared to sway to and fro.
The cool night breeze fanned their heated foreheads as they gained the
deck. For some time, coming suddenly from the glare of the
electrically lighted interior, their eyes were blinded. They could see
nothing but an indistinct blurr of star-lit, gently heaving water.
Gradually the sense of vision returned. They found themselves on the
fore-deck of the unterseeboot. They had made up their minds to see a
turtle-back deck with a narrow level platform in the centre; instead
they found that the deck was almost flat and, in nautical parlance,
flush, save where it was broken by the elongated conning-tower topped
by the twin periscopes and slender wireless mast.
Lying on the deck in all conceivable attitudes were most of the
U-boat's crew, taking advantage of a brief spell on the surface to
breathe deeply of the ozone-laden atmosphere.
Not a light was visible on board. Even the hatchway by which the lads
had gained the deck was constructed to trap any stray beam from the
brilliant glare below.
Miles away, and low down upon the horizon, a white light blinked
solemnly; then after a brief interval it was succeeded by a red gleam.
This in turn was followed by white again.
Trefusis, with a sailor's inborn instinct, began to count the
intervals. Although having no means of consulting the only
time-recording watch in the possession of the two captives, he had a
fair idea of counting seconds. At fourteen from the disappearance of
the red light the white appeared. An almost identical space of time
occurred before the red reappeared.
"It's the Wolf Light," mentally ejaculated the lad.
His next step was to fix the bearing of the lighthouse. This he did by
looking for the Great Bear, and then, following the Pointers, the North
Star.
"Phew!" he muttered softly. "Nor'-nor'-west. This brute of a
submarine is right in the chops of the Channel--the main highway for
vessels making for London and the south coast ports."
"What's that?" asked Vernon, who heard his chum speaking, but had
failed to grasp the significance of his words.
"Nothing," replied Ross almost in a whisper. "I'll tell you later."
The cool air had revived both lads wonderfully. They had been left to
their own devices, for the petty officer had gone aft. Those of the
crew who were on deck seemed as apathetic as the men below concerning
the presence of the kidnapped youths. They looked like men utterly
worn out by fatigue and nervous strain.
Grasping the flexible wire hand-rail Ross continued his survey of the
horizon, all of which was visible except a small portion obscured by
the rise of the conning-tower. The air was remarkably clear. Taking
into consideration the refraction of the atmosphere, the navigation
lamps of a vessel shown at twenty feet above the sea would be visible
from the low-lying deck of the submarine at a distance of six to seven
miles.
But there were no signs of any vessels in the vicinity. The German
submarine rolled lazily in complete isolation, waiting, like a snake in
the grass, for its prey.
"Herr Kapitan would see you," exclaimed the guttural voice of the petty
officer. "Come aft. Remember, when you are addressed, to remove your
caps."
The man led the way, making no attempt to avoid the recumbent limbs and
bodies of the crew who impeded his passage. Treading with discretion
Ross and Vernon followed till, after skirting the base of the
conning-tower, they found themselves in the presence of
Lieutenant-Commander Schwalbe, the Kapitan of U75.
Schwalbe was sitting in a small arm-chair which had been brought from
his cabin. He was smoking a cigar. At his elbow stood his satellite,
Hermann Rix, who was also smoking. This luxury was denied the crew,
the officers being permitted to smoke only when the submarine was
running awash or resting on the surface.
[Illustration: THE INTERVIEW WITH THE GERMAN CAPTAIN (missing from
book)]
"So you have recovered from your little involuntary rest," exclaimed
Schwalbe in excellent English. He was a remarkably good linguist, for
previous to the outbreak of the war he had been the skipper of a
North-German-Lloyd boat. By sheer good luck he had reached a home port
the day after the momentous declaration of hostilities, having narrowly
escaped capture by a British destroyer.
Owing to the great expansion of the German submarine service, and its
equally rapid reduction at the hands of the British Navy, the supply of
specially trained officers of the Imperial Navy for this branch had run
out. More had been transferred from the pent-up High Seas Fleet, while
others had been absorbed from the now useless German Mercantile Marine,
and hastily put through a course of instruction. Schwalbe was one of
these, and after less than two months' hazardous work in the capacity
of Unter-leutnant found himself in command of U75, one of the "last
words" of von Tirpitz's piratical fleet.
Neither Ross nor Vernon replied. They could form no suitable answer.
It was no doubt very considerate on the part of the Kapitan to enquire
after their healths, but somehow the lads felt that the skipper of U75
was responsible for their presence on board.
"Come, come," continued Schwalbe. "Don't be sulky."
"We are not," expostulated Ross.
"I'm glad to hear it," rejoined the Kapitan, with a grin that had the
effect of letting his cigar fall to the deck. He stooped to retrieve
it, but, suddenly remembering that it was beneath his dignity, changed
his mind and kicked the glowing stump on one side. Having taken
another from a gun-metal case, he lit it with a device that merely
smouldered instead of giving a bright light.
"It is as well we understand each other," he continued. "Do you know
why you are on board U75?"
"No, sir," replied Ross.
"Neither do I," rejoined Schwalbe with astonishing candour. "I wish I
had not been honoured with your company."
"The remedy is in your hands then, sir," said Trefusis. "You can land
us the next time you put in at St. Mena's Island for petrol, or else
put us on board the first fishing craft we fall in with."
"I beg to differ," was the rejoinder. "Unfortunately you are on board,
and you must make the best of it, I understand from my friend--shall I
say Dr. Ramblethorne--that you are both very inquisitive.
Inquisitiveness is a bad trait in ones so young. You see, it has got
you into trouble. The doctor has strong reasons for getting me to take
care of you for some considerable time, so you will have an opportunity
of seeing how we Germans make war. No half-measures, mark you. It is
useless to make war with a velvet glove. You English people call us
pirates, I believe?"
"It certainly looks like piracy when German submarines sink harmless
merchantmen without warning," declared Vernon.
"For my part I have never sent a merchant vessel to the bottom without
warning," said Schwalbe. "As a seaman I regret having to sink any ship
of commerce. As an officer of the German Navy I have to obey orders
unquestionably. Nevertheless I have always given the crews of British
ships a chance of escape, and have never sunk any vessel until the men
are safely in the boats, unless she attempts to show fight or to run
away."
"Would you blame a skipper for trying to save his ship?" asked Ross.
"You do not understand," exclaimed Schwalbe. "We are at war. A
blockade has been declared upon the British Islands. If, after full
warning, merchantmen persist in taking the risk, it is their look-out,
not mine. However, to return to a more personal matter: having been
saddled with you, I must endure your presence. You will be well fed,
as far as the resources at our command will allow. You will be free to
go wherever you wish on board, with the exception of the conning-tower,
motor- and torpedo-rooms. I am not ungrateful, for my brother, who had
the misfortune to be in the _Ariadne_, was captured by your fleet. He
is being well treated somewhere in England. Hence I give privileges to
the son of Admiral Trefusis and the son of Commander Haye so long as
they are my compulsory guests. But bear in mind: you will be watched.
Should you commit any fault, however slight, you will pay dearly for
it. If you are foolish enough to attempt any act of treachery, death
will be the penalty. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"
"Yes, sir," replied both lads.
"Very well. Is there anything you would like me to do within the
bounds of reason?"
"Could we communicate with our parents?" asked Ross.
"No," replied Schwalbe decisively. "There are strong objections. And,
while I am on the subject, should you fall in with the crews of
destroyed ships you are strictly forbidden to communicate with them
either by word or gesture. That will be a punishable offence of the
second degree. Anything more?"
"My friend has had a nasty knock on the head," said Trefusis. "Have
you a doctor on board?"
Again Kapitan Schwalbe smiled broadly.
"No," he replied. "There is no need. Cases of illness must wait till
we return to port. The only injuries we are likely to sustain would
put us beyond all medical aid. But several of the men are fairly
skilled in rough surgery, so I will----"
"Vessel on the port bow, sir; she's showing no lights," announced a
voice.
"All hands to stations!" ordered the skipper.
"Down below with you!" hissed the petty officer, who during the
interview had stood rigidly at attention at two paces to the rear of
his charges.
Already the hitherto recumbent men were alert. Quickly, yet in order,
they disappeared down the fore hatchway, and amongst them were Ross and
Vernon.
The officers had taken their places inside the shelter of the
conning-tower. Everything was battened down from within, and with a
gentle purr the electric motors were set in motion, while at the same
time water ballast was admitted into the trimming-tanks.
Swift and stealthy had been their preparations, but the presence of the
submarine was betrayed by the phosphorescent swirl of the water caused
by the churning of the twin propellers as she slipped beneath the
surface.
Twenty seconds later a swift vessel that looked suspiciously like a
trawler, although her speed belied her, tore over the place where U75
had disappeared. Bare inches only separated the top of the latter's
conning-tower from the massive keel plates of the craft that had all
but accomplished its mission.
The watch-dogs of the British Navy were at work.