Caught in the Net
Presently the powerful night-glasses revealed the misty outlines of a
large two-funnelled craft slowly making her way in a southerly
direction, the while signalling steadily, pausing only to receive an
answering message from one of the German patrols.
Then, with all lights screened, came a pair of lean destroyers,
zigzagging their way through the mine-field. After a while they
steadied on their respective helms. Unless they altered course, they
would pass at a distance not less than five cable-lengths from the
lurking submarine.
"One of their strafed raiders coming here to roost for a dead cert,"
quoth the Hon. Derek. "Hands to action-stations, Mr. Macquare. I mean
to let that chap pilot me through the mine-field, and, with luck,
I'll return evil for good by putting a torpedo into him."
The two destroyers passed without sighting the British submarine.
They were emitting dense columns of smoke that wafted over R19's deck
as they steamed by. Two deductions were to be drawn from that
circumstance. The boats were short of steam coal, which was a most
cheerful bit of information. Also, from the fact that they were
burning coal and not oil fuel, they were not by any means of the
latest type of German torpedo craft.
Presently the nearmost destroyer put her helm hard over and circled
away from the submarine. Not until she was pointing in exactly the
opposite direction to the one she had been following did she steady
and slow down. Her consort still carried on until she had passed the
approaching armed merchantman. Then she, too, flung about.
Preceded and followed by her escort, the returning raider (for
Stockdale's surmise was correct) steamed past at a rate of about five
knots. It would have been a spendid opportunity for R19 to get home
three torpedoes with mathematical precision, but reluctantly the
Lieutenant-Commander stayed his hand. It was tantalizing but the
greater issue was not to be lost sight of.
Under electrical motive power, for it was too risky to make use of
even the well-muffled internal-combustion engines, R19 fell in at the
tail of the procession, keeping at a distance of four cable-lengths
astern of the rearmost destroyer.
Luck was in her favour, for not only was the night very dark, but the
eddying clouds of smoke from the German vessels' funnels were
frequently sweeping over the submarine, thus making a most effectual
screen to her movements, while with her slow speed R19 did not show
the "bone in her mouth"--the phosphorescent bow wave that at any high
rate of speed would inevitably betray her position.
Both periscopes were "housed", and the boat prepared to dive at an
instant's notice.
For a full quarter of a mile the course was due south, until, at a
flashing-signal from the leading torpedo-boat, the big German
starboarded her helm, and steered almost at right angles to her
former direction. R19's officers noticed that the rearmost destroyer
made no attempt to alter helm until she gained the position where the
armed merchantman had turned. Evidently the "gateway" through the
mine-field was narrow, and permitted no liberties.
As the following destroyer turned she flashed out a signal, to which
a distant vessel replied. The next instant the concentrated rays of a
dozen search-lights swept the surface of the water.
Down dropped R19 to 20 feet. Her periscopes were raised until they
projected but 18 inches above the surface. Until the crucial moment,
Stockdale chose to keep the escort under observation.
Again the Hun vessels turned, this time to port, and were heading
straight for the centre of the far-flung line of patrol boats and
destroyers.
"We're through, I fancy!" exclaimed the Hon. Derek. Then: "Down to
forty feet."
At that depth the submarine was immune from the danger of being stove
in, even by the keel of the heaviest battleship afloat. For the rest
of the distance, until the last of the patrolling craft was left
astern, the submarine had to depend upon direction by listening to
the thresh of the Hun torpedo-boats' propellers.
The raider and her escorts were now increasing speed, another
indication that the danger of the mine-field was a thing of the past.
Before long R19, in her efforts to keep up with her hostile guides,
was pushing ahead at fourteen knots--a rate sufficient to raise an
ominous swirl upon the placid surface.
The while Macquare and the Sub were working out the course for future
reference, noting the varying compass bearings and the distance run
between alterations of helm. Knowing the exact spot where the second
channel began, it would be a relatively simple matter to "plot out"
the secret channel on the chart for use on the return run--if R19
were fortunate enough to leave the Baltic. In order to check each
other's calculations the Lieutenant made his readings on a magnetic
compass, while the Sub used the gyro-compass, which, unaffected by
deviation and variation, enabled the navigator to obtain his
knowledge of direction without having to take into consideration half
a dozen intricate but important influences to which the magnetic
instrument is subjected.
Presently, finding the pace too hot, the Hon. Derek gave orders for
speed to be reduced to five knots. The returning raider had played
her part as far as R19 was concerned, and, as a reward--although
Stockdale would have willed it otherwise--she was rapidly drawing out
of torpedo range. Even if the submarine dared to risk letting fly a
couple of torpedoes, the possibility of hitting a vessel stern-on was
rather remote, while the presence of a hostile craft inside their
mine-field would at once be revealed to the German patrol-boats.
A faint rasping metallic sound caused both officers to look up from
their respective tasks. It was the unmistakable noise of meshed wire
grating along the submarine's side. Then, with a decided jerk, the
vessel's way was checked. Under the impulse of her propellers she
tilted nose downwards, the while the disconcerting sound of the
flexible wire grinding against her was growing more and more in
volume.
The artificer in charge of the motors acted promptly on the order to
declutch and then reverse. Before her propellers had made a dozen
revolutions the port-hand one, entangled in a
remorselessly-tightening obstacle, slowed down, and then stopped
dead.
R19 was firmly held in the meshes of an anti-submarine net.