WE REACH OUR GOAL
It was Thursday, the 20th of April. A fresh, glorious morning. During
the night the wind had died away. The air was still, and the broad, even
undulations of a north-westerly swell made the only movement on the
water.
During the night the false casing round the funnel had been completed.
In order to have everything ready for the landing when we reached Tralee
Bay, the camouflage cargo had, of course, to be removed from above the
munitions. This proved to be no light task, for the pit-props were
rather green and consequently heavy, which delayed the unloading a good
deal.
All hands had to turn to and open hatches, and throw the whole of the
false cargo overboard. In half an hour's time the upper deck looked like
a packing department at one of the big stores. Window-frames,
door-frames, tin-ware, zinc buckets, tin baths, and the like were sent
up in a steady stream from the hold and piled upon the deck. Boxes and
straw went into the furnaces, the rest was heaved overboard. Before long
our course was marked by a trail of flotsam and jetsam that stretched to
the horizon.
With a vague instinct that it might come in useful, I retained on board
a small quantity of the pit props--a precaution which was well repaid on
the following day.
While we were at this work an armed motor-ship passed us within six
miles, and gave us some anxious moments; but fortunately took no notice
of us.
The noon observation made our position 52° N. 11° W.--a bare forty-five
miles from Tralee. In about four hours we should have reached our goal.
I had, unfortunately, to give up my plan of proceeding in under the
Spanish flag, for it had taken us longer than we calculated to jettison
the cargo, and there was not time enough to make the metamorphosis.
What troubled me most was that it would be full-moon that night, and the
bright moonlight might easily prove our undoing.
The noon eight-bells had just been struck when the engine-room telegraph
rang for 'full speed ahead,' and the _Aud_ pointed her nose for Tralee
Bay.
The next two hours were occupied with the final preparations for the
landing. There was still a mass of things to get done. Steam-winches and
unloading tackle were made ready, the hatches uncovered, and in every
hold the top cases were placed in the slings ready for immediate
landing. I had a supply of pocket electric-lamps and tools for opening
the cases put in small bags, so that they could be passed ashore at
once, for, from the moment we got alongside, the unloading must go with
a rush, in order to be finished before the English got wind of it.
If all went without a hitch, I hoped to have the ship emptied in seven
to eight hours. If--that was the crux. It was, of course, quite possible
that it might come to bloody hand-to-hand fighting before all was done.
There could be no doubt that the harbour authorities and perhaps also
the military authorities, would come on board, as soon as we got in, to
examine the ship and her papers. Their questions as to where we came
from, and so forth, must be answered in such a way that they should have
no desire to ask any more--that is to say, they must be rendered
harmless; in case the Irish had not already provided for that.
It was clear that, even with the greatest caution, something might leak
out about our sudden arrival, and suspicious nocturnal operations.
Casement himself had told me that even in Tralee there were a good many
people of English sympathies.
The town of Tralee lies about three miles from the harbour pier. The
harbour proper, which is in a kind of outlying suburb, is called Fenit.
Fenit is a small, insignificant harbour, which is connected with Tralee
by a railway. This railway might be very awkward for us, for if an alarm
was given in Fenit we should have to reckon on the arrival of the
military within half an hour. For our main protection against them we
should have to trust to the machine-guns which formed a portion of our
cargo, packed in cases, ready for use. These must therefore be landed
first of all.
The men to serve the machine-guns ought to be standing ready on the
quay. I made sure once more that the explosives and incendiary bombs
were ready, and the German naval ensign was at hand. To make assurance
doubly sure, I had two additional masses of explosive placed in the
forward part of the ship, so that, if need be, nothing of my ship should
be left.
I then ordered, 'Hands wash and clean into No. 2's,' that is, to clean
up, and put on uniform. Only our caps, which for the moment we could not
put on, we hid where we could get at them easily. Over our uniform we
pulled on our old Norwegian kit. Each man wore a dirk and pistol in his
belt under his jacket.
Shortly after one o'clock the first signs of land appeared; long,
low-lying, bluish cloud-banks on the horizon, which little by little
assumed a definite form--the Irish coast!
There was not a ship in sight. I called up my men and gave them the last
explanations. Hitherto they had known nothing definite, though, of
course, they had long guessed that they were _not_ bound for Libau. It
was good to see their grim but well-pleased smiles when I told them that
now it was up to us to make good, and every man must do his best.
I told them that even their uniforms might not save them from being shot
if caught. They grinned knowingly, as much as to say, they've got to
catch us first!
Splendid fellows! I knew that I could trust them.
I explained my plans to the last detail. Every man had his allotted
task. The engineers, for instance, were told that they must be ready to
pump out the water-tanks to lighten the ship and enable her to get up
the shallow channel leading to Fenit.
As the last touch, the surgical dressings were served out, and the big
medicine chest, with all necessary materials, was placed in the
mess-room, and then I gave the order, 'Every man to his post.'