Von Hoppner's Boast
"It's that spy bloke, sir," reported one of the petty officers.
"Cassidy and Jones are tackling him all right."
By the time Fordyce arrived upon the scene the worst of the tumult
had passed. Mindiggle, foaming at the mouth, was lying on his back,
with Cassidy planted firmly on his chest, and the other A.B. pinning
his arms to the floor. Other would-be quellers of the disturbance
were awaiting an opportunity to secure the spy's legs. He was kicking
right and left, almost capsizing the bulky form of his captor, the
while yelling and shouting in a blood-curdling manner.
At length Mindiggle was handcuffed and gagged, and the Sub was then
told of what had occurred. It appeared that one of the seamen, going
into the spy's temporary cell, had been suddenly and violently
attacked by the demented man. There could be no doubt about it;
Mindiggle's brain had turned under the mental strain. He was nothing
less than a homicidal maniac.
About five minutes later Fordyce was called to the cabin occupied by
the two survivors of the torpedoed German destroyer. The
Lieutenant-Commander had recovered consciousness, and almost his
first act was to demand the reason why he, an officer of the Imperial
German Navy, should be sharing the same cabin with a common sailor?
"I will convey your request to my commanding officer," replied the
Sub, although he was inwardly raging at the attitude taken up by the
arrogant Hun, who, but for Fordyce's promptitude, might have been
lying fathoms deep in the Baltic. "Not knowing your name (the Sub was
too truthful to deny all knowledge of the prisoner's rank) we were
naturally at a loss."
"My name, Herr Unter-leutnant, is Ludwig von Hoppner," replied the
Hun pompously. "My rank, Kapitan-Leutnant of H.I.M. torpedo-boat
V201, as you English have already learnt to your cost."
"Indeed!" remarked Fordyce. "Then apparently we are quits, since V201
has been destroyed. Might I enquire particulars of the circumstances
to which you refer? Surely this Ordre pour le Mérite must have had
something to do with it?"
The Sub hardly expected that von Hoppner would give the information,
but the Hun, unable to refrain from boasting, swallowed the bait.
"It has," replied von Hoppner. "If you wish to know, Englishman, it
was for destroying one of your submarine-cruisers at the southern
entrance to the Sound."
"Then, I suppose," resumed Fordyce, "that the incident occurred about
two years ago, when one of our submarines went aground in neutral
waters, and your destroyers shelled the stranded vessel until a
Danish cruiser intervened. To the best of my recollection, the
officer directing the German operations received the Iron Cross only,
and not l'Ordre pour le Mérite."
"You are mistaken," said von Hoppner petulantly. "It was not that
occasion to which I refer. It was on the 9th of ---- of the present
year."
"Thank you!" replied the Sub quietly. "That is all I wish to know for
the present. I will convey your request to Lieutenant-Commander the
Hon. Derek Stockdale."
Chuckling to himself, Fordyce returned to the skipper's cabin to make
the report. He found the Hon. Derek conferring with Mr. Macquare as
to what was to be done with the lunatic, for Mindiggle's case was
hopeless.
"He's cheated a firing-party, Macquare," remarked the
Lieutenant-Commander. "The sooner we get him off this craft the
better. And the wounded German bluejacket too. At daybreak I'll speak
the first merchantman or fishing-boat we sight and put them both on
board. Well, Mr. Fordyce? You look mighty pleased with yourself."
"I have found out the name and rank of the prisoner, sir. He is
Kapitan-Leutnant Ludwig von Hoppner, late of V201, and the possessor
of l'Ordre pour le Mérite, bestowed, I have good reason to believe,
for assisting us in our passage through the German mine-field at the
southern entrance to the Sound."
"Eh, what's that?" enquired the Hon. Derek. "Explain yourself,
please."
"Might I have the log-book, sir?" asked Fordyce.
Receiving the manuscript volume, the Sub turned over the pages until
he came to the entry under the date given by the German officer.
"There you are, sir!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "That was the night
when we were held up by the nets, and a Hun torpedo-craft opened a
way for us by destroying that sunken merchantman by means of depth
charges."
"By Jove, yes!" ejaculated the Lieutenant-Commander. "Carry on, Mr.
Fordyce."
"So there's hardly a doubt that this von Hoppner was the officer
commanding the torpedo-boat. When he blew up the submerged vessel he
was under the impression that he had strafed us, and so his Emperor
gave him that potty decoration."
"What sort of fellow is he?" asked the Hon. Derek.
"A regular cad, sir, I should imagine," replied Fordyce. "His first
words to me were of the nature of a complaint that we had shoved him
into the same cabin as the bluejacket with the broken leg."
"Oh, is he?" rejoined the Lieutenant-Commander grimly. "In that case
I won't spare his feelings over his tin-pot decoration. Had he been a
decent sort of man I would have left him in blissful ignorance on
that point. Well, I think it is about time we got a move on, Mr.
Macquare."
R19, after a fairly long interval of submergence, was cautiously
brought to the surface. An examination of the moon-lit sea gave no
signs of the presence of hostile or other craft. Overhead nothing in
the nature of an air-craft could be discerned.
Running awash, yet ready to dive at a few seconds' notice, the
submarine held on her way, reeling off mile after mile, until the
first blush of dawn revealed the presence of a Zeppelin bearing down
wind at a great speed.
The Lieutenant-Commander promptly gave orders to dive, and once again
R19 sank and rested upon the sea bed. Whether the German air-ship had
"spotted" her was a matter for speculation. The crew would have
preferred to take their chances in an encounter with the giant
gas-bag, but their skipper thought otherwise. Until the Baltic was
left astern, cautious tactics were to be the order of the day.
Sounding meant long and tedious delays, but, as the Hon. Derek
remarked, "None but a fool would cut capers in the open jaw of a
man-trap."
It was approaching midday when R19 left her enforced resting-place.
The Zeppelin had vanished from sight, having failed in her quest to
locate the task she had been called upon to perform; but less than a
mile away on the port bow was a fishing-boat of about forty tons,
moving slowly through the water with fathoms of nets towing astern.
"That's what we've been wanting to fall in with," observed the Hon.
Derek. "Starboard a little, Quartermaster. Lay me alongside that
vessel."