Good-bye to the Baltic!
Four days later R19 drew within sight of the heavily-mined Sound.
Judging by the demeanour of the ship's company, the possibility of
facing immediate danger left them remarkably apathetic.
"Reminds me of a pack of youngsters robbing an orchard, knowing that
the farmer and his bull-dog are somewhere on the look-out," observed
Mr. Macquare. "They've had a rousing time while it lasted, and now
they've made up their minds to take what comes, only they'd rather
not meet the farmer if it could be avoided."
"How's von Hoppner taking it?" enquired the Hon. Derek.
"Badly," replied the Lieutenant. "If ever a man had the 'jumps' 'tis
he. Should we make a home port, sir, we'll have a lunatic with us,
despite your efforts to get rid of one. He even offered to impart
information concerning the mine-field."
"And what did you say to that?" asked the Lieutenant-Commander.
"I couldn't choke him off on my own responsibility," answered Mr.
Macquare.
The Hon. Derek pondered for a few moments. In the interests of all on
board the recreant's information might be of enormous value. Then he
shook his head.
"I'll turn it down, Macquare. If we are to win through it will be off
our own bat. Unless the steamer track has been altered recently we
stand a fighting chance. Tonight's the night, Mr. Macquare."
Taking elaborate cross-bearings while daylight lasted, R19 sounded,
remaining at the bottom until midnight. On reappearing on the surface
the submarine, ready for diving at ten seconds' notice, forged softly
ahead, conned by the Lieutenant-Commander and Fordyce from the
platform without the conning-tower.
It was hardly an ideal night for the undertaking. A thick haze
enveloped everything beyond a radius of fifty yards. Even the bows of
the vessel were indistinguishable from the mingling blur of the sea
and fog. A slightly longer range of visibility would have been
better, as the submarine would have been able to spot and avoid the
more conspicuous outlines of a patrol-boat or destroyer before the
latter could sight the low-lying hull of her foe.
It was an intricate piece of navigation by dead reckoning and of the
"hit or miss" order. From the after-end of the navigation platform
trailed a log-line, the movements of the luminous hand on the dial
being carefully watched by Petty Officer Chalmers. As an additional
precaution, the striking-gong of the recording mechanism had been
silenced.
The log gave the "distance run", the reading being checked by
independent calculations based upon the revolutions of the
propellers. For directing, R19 had to depend solely upon a compass
course, since the mist made it impossible to pick up shore bearings,
even if these were visible at night.
After an hour of high-tensioned suspense the Sub made his way aft to
the Petty Officer at the log indicator.
"How goes it?" he whispered.
"Close on, sir," was the equally cautious reply.
"I thought so," agreed Fordyce. "Good enough."
"We're over Position A, sir," he reported.
"Or thereabouts," added the Hon. Derek under his breath. "Starboard
eight, Quartermaster."
Round swung the deeply-submersed hull of the submarine to settle on
her new course--the awkward turn in the channel through the
mine-field. Already the netted area that had all but finished R19's
career on her outward voyage was left astern.
After a comparatively short run the order was given to port helm. R19
had negotiated the awkward bend in the cleared channel, and a
straight run northwards would see her beyond the limits of the
mine-field.
Suddenly, at a distance of about forty fathoms astern, and slightly
on the starboard quarter, a column of water leapt two hundred feet or
more into the misty air, accompanied by a roar like the concentrated
peals of a dozen thunderclaps. The next instant Fordyce, almost
capsized by the rush of displaced air, was knee-deep in water.
Rolling sluggishly, R19 shook herself clear of the turbulent swirl
while the Quartermaster promptly steadied her on her helm.
The Lieutenant-Commander glanced at his subordinate officer.
"Narrow squeak that, Fordyce," he remarked. "What's Chalmers doing?
By Jove, we cut that corner pretty closely!"
The Sub made his way to the after-end of the raised platform, where
the petty officer was standing as rigidly as a statue.
"All right there, Chalmers?"
"All right, sir," replied the imperturbable petty officer. "Only that
blessed log's gone to blazes."
He held up a coiled length of log-line as a visible corroboration to
his statement. The cause of the explosion was now revealed. In
turning, R19 had passed perilously close to an anchored mine, while
the log, towing astern, described a wider arc than that of the
submarine, and also caused a reduction of speed of the revolving
metal cylinder. The depth to which the log sinks varies inversely
with the speed of the towing vessel. So in "cutting the corner" the
trailing log descended sufficiently to come in contact with one of
the horns of the submerged mine.
It was a blessing in disguise, for the explosion gave the Hon. Derek
a clue as to his position, and a slight alteration of helm was
sufficient to bring R19 approximately in the centre of the channel.
Owing to the fog, none of the hostile patrol-boats risked making a
dash between the mines, although away to the south'ard there were
audible evidences of activity.
Another hour passed; then, with a partial lifting of the fog, the
loom of the land could be discerned on either hand.
"White and red group flashes on the starboard beam, sir," reported
the look-out, then: "Red and green occulting flashes on port bow,
sir."
Raising his night-glasses, the Hon. Derek focused them first to
starboard and then to port. Then he turned to the Sub.
"We're through, Mr. Fordyce," he remarked. "Those are the Malmo
lights to starboard. Telegraph for full speed ahead, if you please.
Good-bye to the Baltic!"