CAPTIVES IN A SUBMARINE
ON being hauled on board the German submarine Fuller and Kirkwood
were sternly ordered to go below, their captors indicating a small
hatchway fifteen feet for'ard of the conning-tower.
The prisoners had no option. They descended the almost vertical
steel ladder and found themselves in practically the bow compartment
of the vessel. It was the crew space of the submarine mine-layer,
for the craft, on which was painted the number UC49, was not fitted
with torpedo tubes, nor did she carry guns of the "disappearing
mountings" type. Her part was to sneak out of the Elbe, cruise on
the surface whenever practicable, diving only when any strange
vessel hove in sight. Her cargo had consisted of forty metal
cylinders stowed aft--mines of the most recent type--but having sown
her harvest of death and destruction, regardless whether an enemy or
a neutral vessel fell a victim to the deadly peril, she was on her
way back to the Fatherland.
The compartment in which Fuller and his companion found themselves
was about thirty feet in length and fifteen at its maximum diameter,
which was at the after end. For'ard it tapered, at first gradually,
then sharply, until it terminated at a bulkhead close to the bows.
In the lower part of the recess were the anchors and cables, capable
of being lowered or hauled by means of elaborate mechanism which was
controlled from within. The upper portion of the bow compartment
consisted of a large fresh-water tank. Round the crew space were
lockers that served a double purpose: besides containing the effects
of the men they were used as seats. Hooks were bolted to the
cambered deck-beams in order to sling hammocks--in fact, half a
dozen hammocks were at that time occupied--and mess-tables.
Against the after bulkhead was a small partitioned-off place that
served as the cook's galley, the stove being heated by electricity.
While running awash the fumes were carried off by means of a funnel
that projected a few inches above the deck, which was fitted with a
watertight cover that could be operated from the conning-tower when
the submarine was trimmed for diving. Yet in spite of the
ventilation the place reeked vilely of a variety of odours. Fuller
wondered what the atmosphere must be like when UC49 was submerged.
In addition to the sleeping occupants of the hammocks, who by their
restlessness even in slumber showed signs of the mental strain, the
crew space was occupied by three fairhaired, fresh-featured
Frisians, who regarded the captives with scant curiosity and, after
the first five minutes, seemed to ignore the Englishmen entirely.
"May as well make the best of things," remarked Fuller. "I know the
ropes a bit--been through it before. Take your wet clothes off, old
man. Keep a tight hold of your personal gear. We'll see if we can't
persuade that fat chap in the galley to put our things to dry."
"They would dry on us in this hot show," observed Kirkwood. "Suppose
we are sent for?"
"Then we are," added the flight-lieutenant grimly. "We'll have to
grin and bear it. All the same, I'm not going to act as a human
clothes horse while my gear is drying, so here goes."
The German cook seemed anxious to oblige, in spite of a muttered
protest from one of the crew.
"My broder on der 'Blucher' vos," he explained. "Englische him pick
up and well treat. Him write an' tell me so. Thus your clothes make
dry."
Although the hatchway was closed and secured the submarine was still
running awash, lifting sluggishly as she forged ahead at a modest
fifteen knots. A couple of hours passed, and no attempt was made on
the part of the vessel's officers to interrogate their prisoners.
"For one thing we are clothed and, let us hope, in our right minds,"
observed Fuller as the pair redressed in their now dry clothing,
dispensing, however, with their leather jackets, which were as stiff
as a board and white with sea-salt.
"Much more of this would drive me out of my mind," protested
Kirkwood. "Give me the freedom of the air any day. Suppose this old
hooker bumps into a mine?"
"Pull yourself together, man," said the flight-lieutenant sharply.
"It's all one big risk, I admit, but for heaven's sake don't give
these fellows a chance to think we've cold feet!"
The A.P. stiffened his upper lip.
"By Jove, I won't!" he exclaimed.
"The youngster has good cause for concern," soliloquised Fuller.
"This old tub wouldn't stand a cat's chance if anything went wrong.
She's one of those craft that's made by the fathom and cut off where
required, I should imagine. Never saw such rough work in all my
life. And no sign of air-locks or any lifesaving devices. I suppose
such details don't worry the German Admiralty. Those leaking joints
remind me of the old Tower Hill subway. A coat of whitewash and gas
jets instead of the electric light would make the illusion
complete."
His reveries were interrupted by a sliding door in the after
bulkhead being opened. The German seamen sprang to their feet and
stood rigidly at attention as a young, heavily-built unter-leutnant
appeared and beckoned the prisoners to follow him.
Stepping over the sill of the watertight door Fuller and his
companion found themselves in the officers' quarters--a compartment
extending the whole width of the vessel, and separated from the
engine-room by another bulkhead. The cabin was plainly furnished but
with a certain degree of comfort. On either side were two curtained
bunks. A swinging table occupied the centre of the floor, with four
revolving arm-chairs, the feet of which were clamped to prevent them
being capsized in heavy weather. Against the after bulkhead were two
bookshelves and a folding wash-basin, while between them was a
ladder communicating with the conning-tower. On the for'ard bulkhead
were voice-tubes and telephones for conveying orders to various
parts of the vessel, also gauges of various descriptions similar to
those in the conning-tower, so that the commander, when not on duty,
could know what was going on without having to hail the navigating
officer. In the arched ceiling was an illuminated tell-tale compass.
"North 88 east," said Fuller to himself, as he read the magnetic
bearing. "She's making for the Elbe or the Weser, I'll swear."
"There is no need for you to trouble about the course," said a
broad-shouldered officer dressed in the uniform of a kapitan-leutnant
of the Imperial German Navy. "That is our affair. Now, tell me--no
lies, mind--what is your name?"
Fuller met the penetrating eye of his examiner without flinching,
yet he realised he was "up against" a sharp Teuton, who, by his
command of the English language, had evidently an intimate and
first-hand knowledge of his enemy's country.
It was, Fuller knew, futile to dissemble. The fact that Kirkwood and
he were missing would be revealed by the British Admiralty casualty
list. Neither would any good purpose be attained by refusing to
reply to any questions that could be answered without giving useful
information to the Huns.
"John Fuller, flight-lieutenant, H.M.S. 'Hippodrome,'" he replied
promptly.
"So? Then let me offer my congratulations at you again becoming the
guest of the Imperial German Government," rejoined the
kapitan-leutnant sarcastically. "I do not think you will escape
again, Mr. Fuller. Since Sylt was too easy a place of captivity you
will most a certainly be sent inland when we arrive in harbour--
somewhere a very long way from the convenient neutral port of
Esbjerg. Now, I suppose it is of no use asking you under what
circumstances you were brought down?"
"Engine failure owing to the petrol tank being perforated."
"Ach! How far from the coast? And what part of the coast? Did you
ascend from a ship or from a harbour?"
Fuller shook his head.
"I cannot say," he replied.
The German took the refusal quite in good part.
"I do not blame you for refusing," he remarked. "Any brave man, be
he German or English, would do the same. Now, sir, am I to have any
better luck with you? Your name?"
The A.P. told him his name and rank, but resolutely declined to
commit himself on other points. His captor merely grunted with the
air of a man who has been given information of little or no
interest. Kirkwood had not broken out of a German prison. Compared
with the redoubtable Fuller he was a nonentity in the eyes of the
kapitan-leutnant.
A gong clanged noisily in the conning-tower, its verberations
outvoicing the pulsations of the oil-fed motors. Without a word the
submarine's commander sprang to the ladder and, ascending, left
Fuller and his companion in misfortune standing at the foot of the
table.
A hoarse order, followed by the heavy pattering of sea,--boots upon
the deck and the metallic clash of water-tight hatches being closed,
denoted that UC49 was being trimmed for diving.
Fuller felt a hand tap him on the shoulder.
"Get you outside!" ordered the young unter-leutnant, indicating the
for'ard compartment.
Barely had the prisoners regained their place of confinement than
the bulkhead door was shut, a slight yet distinctly perceptible list
announcing that the submarine was diving. The fore-peak was now
uncomfortably crowded, for the "watch on deck," unable to remain any
longer on deck, had come below at the order to trim ship for diving.
One and all looked drawn and anxious. Unlike their brethren in the
non-mine-laying submarines they had practically nothing to do. The
excitement of being able to launch a torpedo at a British ship, be
she naval vessel or merchantman, was denied them. They were, in
fact, nothing more than passive individuals cooped up in the shell
of a submerged craft, unable to see what was going on without, and
helpless to save themselves in the event of the submarine being
rammed.
For quite a minute the obliquely downward plunge was maintained, the
vessel the while turning sharply to starboard. Then, pitching
slightly to the violent displacement of a volume of water, she
resumed her normal trim at a depth of ten fathoms beneath the
surface.
The action of porting helm had undoubtedly saved the mine-laying
submarine. An alert British patrol boat had sighted her from afar,
and at a rate resembling that of a train had charged down upon the
spot where UC49 had disappeared, while trailing astern at the end of
an insulated cable was an explosive grapnel of sufficient power to
shatter the submarine's hull like an egg-shell.
The skipper of the patrol boat had made due calculations to ensure,
as he thought, the destruction of his prey, but he had not reckoned
upon the UC49 changing course as she dived. As it was, the explosive
grapnel passed within a couple of yards of the submerged vessel's
beam.
Of this Fuller and his companion knew nothing. Perhaps, for their
state of mind, it was as well. A man will bravely face death at the
hands of his foe, but he will jib at the idea of being "snuffed out"
by his own side.
Slowly the minutes passed. UC49 was still running submerged,
increasing the depth to twenty fathoms and maintaining a zig-zag
course in order to baffle her pursuer. The German seamen were
beginning to breathe more freely. The worst part of the
business--the great risk of being rammed as she dived--was over, and
although under the enormous pressure jets of water were hissing
through the faulty joints the men realised that they stood more than
a fighting chance of evading destruction.
For perhaps five hours UC49 blindly made her way under the waves.
The captives had lost all count of time. Their watches had stopped
owing to their immersion when the seaplane was sunk; there was no
clock in the fore compartment nor were the bells struck in the
customary style on board. But at length, after a seemingly
interminable interval, the order was given to empty the auxiliary
water ballast tanks. Simultaneously the floor assumed a list--this
time in a contrary direction.
Then, without warning, the fairly regular throb of the electric
motors gave place to a discordant jar that shook the hull from end
to end.
"Main shaft gone, for a dead cert," exclaimed Kirkwood. "I remember
the same thing occurring on the 'Tremendous's' picket-boat Yes,
they're switching off."
The mine-layer was helpless. Without means of propulsion there were
only two courses open to her--to float or sink to the bottom. It was
impossible to keep submerged to a certain depth simply by means of
admitting a certain quantity of water ballast. Once the reserve of
buoyancy was overcome she would sink to the bed of the North Sea, in
all probability collapsing under the terrific pressure on her hull
long before she arrived there. It is only by means of the diving
rudders acting in conjunction with her diving trim that a submarine
can remain submerged to a required depth; and since the
kapitan-leutnant of UC49 had no desire to make the acquaintance of
the floor of the ocean other than by means of an "armed" lead-line,
he chose the other alternative and rose to the surface.
The moment the fore hatch was removed the watch rushed on deck.
There was a lot of scuffling and shouting of orders, accompanied by
the clanking of the auxiliary motors actuating the bilge pumps. When
the main shaft fractured--the submarine had only one "screw"--the
propeller had flown off, taking with it the broken tail shaft and
straining the stuffing-box to such an extent that water poured
through the glands. The pumps were just able to cope with the
inrush. Should they choke or otherwise get out of order the vessel
would promptly founder.
Another order was given. Those of the crew who still remained below
hurriedly collected their personal belongings and went on deck,
while their place was taken by their companions who, following their
example, set to work to "pack up" their scanty bundles. In five
minutes the crew space was untenanted save by Fuller and Kirkwood.
"It strikes me very forcibly that we had better be clearing out of
this rat-hole," suggested the former, "If we don't we'll be
overlooked, and I don't suppose the Huns will mind that."
The two chums ascended the ladder and gained the platform in front
of the conning-tower. Here were about a dozen of the crew, a similar
number being stationed aft. The officers were grouped amidships,
their attention fixed upon some distant object which they were
examining through their glasses. The chug-chug of the pumps
continued, showing that some of the engine-room staff were still
standing by the auxiliary machinery.
"Hurrah!" exclaimed Kirkwood. "A couple of our destroyers. No German
prison for us this trip."
Several of the German seamen hearing the exclamation regarded the
A.P. angrily; otherwise they offered no objection to the prisoners
being on deck. The kapitan-leutnant, also overhearing Bobby's
expression of satisfaction, lowered his binoculars and glared at the
irrepressible Briton. Then he raised the glasses again and scanned
the horizon, finishing up his scrutiny by keeping the on-coming
craft under observation.
For half a minute he looked steadfastly at the approaching
destroyers, then he gave an order to a man standing by the
diminutive mast.
Promptly the sailor hoisted the Black Cross Ensign, but whether as a
token of defiance or otherwise the British officers were unable to
decide. But they were not long left in ignorance.
"You are a little too hasty in your surmise, Mr. Englishman,"
sneered the kapitan-leutnant. "You will yet sample the joys of a
German prison. These are two of our torpedo-boats."