The Tramp
Like a startled hare the unterseeboot fled for shelter. Not until she
reached a depth of fifteen fathoms did she check her diagonally
downward course. At intervals a dull booming, audible above the rattle
of the motors, proclaimed the unpleasant fact that her antagonist was
circling around the spot marked by the phosphorescent swirl and the
iridescence of escaped oil, and was firing explosive grapnels in the
hope of ripping open the U-boat's hull.
Kapitan Schwalbe, looking very grey in the artificial light, was
standing behind the quartermaster. His hands were clenched in
momentary apprehension. Beads of perspiration stood out upon his
forehead. 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 overtaken
scores of his brother officers in that branch of the service. Skilled
as he was in the handling of a huge liner, he lacked the iron nerve
that is essential to the man who has to risk his life in a steel box
that, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, offers no means of escape
in the event of a catastrophe.
Yet he had to do his duty, notwithstanding his utter distaste for
submarine work. He had had no option. The officers of the British
Navy volunteer for submarine duties; those of the German Navy are
simply told off whether they want to or not.
The nerve-racking work was beginning to tell upon him. His orders
condemned him to a forlorn hope, for the English Channel was known to
be a death-trap for the under-sea blockaders. The sight of a trawler
filled him with feelings akin to terror. The possibility, nay
probability, of a merchantman carrying guns made him approach his
intended prey with the utmost caution; yet, as he had remarked to Ross
Trefusis, he had never torpedoed any vessel flying the red ensign
without giving her warning.
But it was not chivalry that prompted Schwalbe to act with
consideration. Had he been untrammelled he would have sent his prey to
the bottom without compunction, for he had all the brutal instincts of
the kultured Hun. It was a superstitious fear that held his
frightfulness in check--a presentiment based upon the Mosaic Law, an
eye 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. The
ballast tanks were "blown", and cautiously U75 rose to the surface.
It was the best course open to her. The depth of the water was much
too great to allow her to rest on the bed of the sea. On the other
hand, in order to keep submerged, the motors would have to be in
motion. No one knew better than Schwalbe that the British patrol-boats
would be in a position to locate with uncanny certitude the presence of
their quarry, unless the strictest silence were maintained by the
fugitive.
So, ready to dive at the first alarm, U75 floated awash until such
times as were considered favourable for getting under way. Decidedly
this part of the English Channel was, for the time being at least,
unhealthy; and Kapitan Schwalbe resolved to make for the Bristol
Channel, where the dangers of being destroyed by modern mosquitoes were
more remote.
Meanwhile Ross and Vernon had been sent back to the quarters in the
alley-way, by the side of the motor-room. Not knowing the reason for
the U-boat's sudden submergence, and consequently unaware of the danger
that threatened her, they formed the erroneous impression that the
submarine was about to attack.
"The old fellow gave us a pretty straight tip," remarked Vernon, when
the chums found themselves alone. "All the same, I vote we get out of
it at the first opportunity, favourable or otherwise."
"'Ssh," whispered Ross. "Someone might be listening. I don't see how
you 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 would
have been an easy matter to have dived overboard and swum for it, if we
hadn't been twenty miles or more from land."
"There was a bright look-out kept, all the same," objected Ross. "And
I 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 a
rummy affair altogether. Fancy that chap knowing our names and the
rank 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 this
mess all right, we'll have something to talk about--having been
prisoners on a German submarine!"
The lads were not allowed on deck again that night. Acting upon Haye's
suggestion they "turned in", and slept fitfully until awakened by the
noise of the watch being relieved.
The seaman, Hans Koppe, brought them their breakfast. The meal
consisted of fish, coffee, and the usual black bread. By this time the
captives 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 confined
space, which was highly charged with oxygen.
"What is the Captain's name?" asked Ross, when the man came to remove
the 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 the
submarine crew. Several men hurried along the alley-way, each with a
set purpose. They paid little heed to the Englanders as they passed.
At their heels came Herr Rix, the Leutnant of the submarine. He was
beaming affably.
"Goot mornings!" he exclaimed. "You come mit me, den I show you how we
blockade."
He led the way to the compartment in which the bowl of the
supplementary periscope was placed. It was now broad daylight, and
consequently the bowl showed a distinct image. A junior officer was
standing 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 sea
and sky was portrayed. Beyond that they could see nothing, until Rix
called 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 lenses
came into play within the tube of the periscope, with the result that a
small portion of the view was greatly magnified upon the object card.
It revealed a tramp of about nine hundred tons. She had a single
funnel painted black, with two broad red bands; two stumpy masts, with
derricks, and a lofty bridge and chart-house abaft the funnel. She was
wall-sided. Her rusty hull was originally painted black. Here and
there were squares of red lead, showing that her crew had been engaged
in trying to smarten her up before she reached port. Aft, frayed and
dirty with the smoke that poured from her funnel, floated the red
ensign.
The submarine began to rise. Although she tilted abruptly, the image
of the tramp steamer still remained upon the object bowl. By an
ingenious arrangement, the lenses were constructed to compensate for
any deviation of the tube of the periscope from the vertical. The lads
could see the bows of the U-boat shaking clear of the water, throwing
cascades of foam off on either side as the passing craft forged ahead
at at least eighteen knots.
Now, for the first time, the skipper of the tramp saw the danger. He
was 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 the
bridge-rails and looked towards the submarine, then gesticulated
violently to the man at the wheel.
The spikes ran through the helmsman's hands, as he rapidly revolved the
wheel 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 loath
to use a torpedo upon a comparatively small vessel. In response to an
order, half a dozen of the submarine's crew swarmed on deck, three
going for'ard and three aft. Within forty-five seconds the two
disappearing guns were raised from the water-tight "houses".
Ross, Vernon, and the German Leutnant remained gazing into the bowl of
the periscope. The vision so absorbed the attention of the two lads
that they hardly heeded the presence of Herr Rix, who occasionally
emitted 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 British
vessel's fo'c'sle, ricochetted a mile or so away.
The tramp's skipper showed his mettle. Round swung the vessel, listing
heavily as she did so. By this time the call for more steam had been
responded 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 prey
she was able to send half a dozen shells into the lofty target
presented as she slid by.
Holes gaped in the thin plating close to the waterline. A shell,
passing completely through the funnel, demolished the siren. Being
without wireless, the tramp was now without means of long-distance
signalling.
Another missile hit the chart-house and, exploding, swept the frail
structure overboard in a thousand fragments. The old skipper, hit by a
splinter of wood, fell inertly upon the bridge; but the next instant he
staggered to his feet, bawling to the crew to get the hand-steering
gear connected.
"He's down again!" exclaimed Ross breathlessly, as the brave old man
dropped upon the shattered planking of the bridge. "Hurrah! He's
still alive."
The skipper had deliberately taken cover behind the slender shelter
afforded by the metal side-light boards. By the frantic movement of
his 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 in
several places. A sliver of metal sheered through the ensign staff.
Without hesitation one of the crew rushed off, retrieved the
weather-worn bunting, and made his way to the mainmast.
Slowly and deliberately he re-hoisted the ensign until it fluttered
proudly from the truck, then with apparent unconcern the man
disappeared below.
By this time the tramp was again under control, with a course shaped
for land, which lay about ten miles to the S.S.E. It was, however, a
foregone conclusion that unless help were speedily forthcoming the
vessel was doomed.
The tramp began to heel, almost imperceptibly at first, then with
increasing speed. She had received her _coup de grâce_.
Still the engines were kept going full speed ahead. The dauntless
skipper remained on the bridge, with a look of grim resolution on his
weather-beaten features.
Slowly the vessel's way diminished. Her bow-wave, owing to the
gradually 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, the
guns' crews standing with folded arms and stolidly watching the tramp
as she struggled in her death-throes.
Presently a vast cloud of steam issued from her engine-room. The
inrush of water had damped her furnaces. The engineer and firemen,
their faces black with coal-dust and streaming with moisture, hurried
on deck.
For another quarter of a mile the doomed vessel carried way, then came
to 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 be
lowered. In an orderly manner the crew manned the falls, and the task
of abandoning the ship began.
Without undue haste, the crew dropped into the waiting boats, each man
with a bundle containing his scanty personal effects wrapped up in a
handkerchief. The Captain was the last to leave. He did so
reluctantly, his left hand tightly grasping the ship's papers.
Having rowed a safe distance from the foundering vessel, the men rested
on their oars, and waited in silence for the end. It was not long in
coming.
The tramp was heeling more and more, and slightly down by the bows.
Suddenly she almost righted; then, amid a smother of foam as the
compressed air burst open her hatches, she flung her stern high in the
air.
Even then she seemed in no hurry. The after part from the mainmast
remained in view, the now motionless propeller being well clear of the
water.
For quite a minute she remained thus, then with a quick yet almost
gentle movement slid under the waves. The last seen of her was the
weather-worn red ensign still fluttering from the truck.
The periscope's bowl showed nothing but an expanse of sea and sky, and
the 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 we
German make blockade, hein?"
"A brave deed," replied Ross scornfully, and, gripping Vernon by the
arm, led him back to their uncomfortable quarters in the alley-way.