During the first hour of their captivity Jack Sefton and his brother
were left alone, locked in a narrow, ill-lighted compartment in the
after part of the submarine. Overhead they could hear the ceaseless
clank of the steering-gear, while the crowded space within the hull
echoed to the noisy clatter of the propelling machinery.
Outwardly calm, the sub was raging furiously. Yielding to his sense of
discretion, and realizing the importance of reassuring his young
brother, he made a brave show at keeping up his spirits. On several
occasions he had found himself in a tight corner, but now there was the
humiliation of being captured in a most ignominious fashion, without
being able to raise a hand in self-defence.
"Upon my word!" he remarked. "Really, Leslie, you will have something
to remember. Experiences like this don't fall to the lot of many
youngsters, you know."
"More exciting than that scrap on Blackstone," rejoined Leslie. "Even
George would have to admit that. Makes a fellow feel quite bucked. But
what do they intend doing with us, I wonder?"
"Events will prove that," replied the sub gravely. "Recollect that we
have to conceal our identity as much as possible. These chaps must not
be allowed to find out that I am a naval officer. Hark!"
A rasping sound, as the bolt securing the door was shot back,
interrupted the conversation before Sefton had time to mature his
immediate plans. The metal panel slid open and a petty officer appeared
and spoke rapidly in German.
Drowned by the noise of the machinery, the words were inaudible, but by
the man's gestures the prisoners clearly understood that they had to
follow him. Along a narrow, steel-enclosed passage, then through a maze
of intricate machinery, the sub and his brother were conducted, until
they found themselves in a small cabin almost immediately underneath the
grating that formed the floor of the raised conning-tower.
"You will at once take off your clothes," ordered the petty officer.
At this unexpected command the brothers looked at each other in
surprise. The order could not be ignored, despite its apparent
inconsequence. However unwilling to submit to the indignity, the
prisoners obeyed promptly.
Under the stern glare of the German petty officer, Jack Sefton stripped
off his brown jersey, shirt, and singlet.
"Rough luck!" he muttered. "Now these brutes will tumble to it; my name
is marked on each of these garments."
Which was exactly what the Huns were intent upon finding out, for,
giving a keen glance at the tell-tale lettering, the petty officer
without waiting for the rest of the disrobing process made his way aft.
Sefton was not long left in doubt, for presently an officer in uniform
corresponding to that of a lieutenant-commander entered the cabin.
"So!" he exclaimed triumphantly, as he thumbed the pages of a British
Navy List. "We fine bag have made. 'Sefton, John B. G.' That not the
same as Smith, hein?"
The sub vouchsafed no remark. He felt horribly humiliated by his
position and by the easy manner in which he had been bowled out. Also,
he realized that now the chances of the prisoners being set on board a
passing vessel had been entirely knocked on the head.
"We take you back to Zhermany," continued the kapitan of the submarine.
"Day after to-morrow we land you at Wilhelmshaven at exactly nine
o'clock."
The day after to-morrow--at nine o'clock. That would be Monday, and at
that hour Sefton was due for "divisions" at Portsmouth Naval Barracks.
The irony of his position ate into his soul.
"If not, you will be a corpse at the bottom of the sea," rejoined the
German pointedly. "Now get your clothes on, and take good care to
yourselves behave."
The kapitan quitted the cabin, leaving Sefton and his brother to resume
their garments. This they did in silence, for Leslie had noticed his
brother's despondency and chagrin.
Except for the periods when they were ordered forward for meals, the
prisoners were left severely alone. Of the passing of time they had but
a remote idea, since the sub had wisely left his watch ashore before
proceeding on the ill-starred trip in the _Fidelity_. Certain it was
that, for nearly twelve hours, U99 remained submerged, running on her
electric power.
Then she rose to the surface. The petrol engines were coupled up, and
at an increased speed the submarine proceeded, in what direction Sefton
had no idea. Without means of consulting a compass, and confined below,
he was in total ignorance of the vessel's course.
At length, dead-tired, for neither of the twain had slept the previous
night, Jack and Leslie threw themselves down on the floor. There was no
need for bedding. The heat of the confined space was too oppressive for
that. For a long while the sub tossed uneasily on his hard couch,
finally dropping off into a fitful slumber.
He was awakened by a seaman shaking him vigorously. For some moments he
was unable to realize his surroundings. Sleeping in the hot and almost
fetid air had benumbed his brain. He felt fuddled, his eyes seemed
strained and dim, his throat burned painfully.
"On deck for exercise," ordered the man, speaking in German.
Sefton staggered to his feet, feeling stiff and cramped in his limbs.
Leslie was still asleep, and when disturbed took even longer than his
brother to be fully aroused.
"By Jove," thought the sub, "if the crew are all like this, early morn
is the time to catch them napping! Well, here goes."
The two captives followed their jailer through an oval-shaped hatchway,
gaining the deck by means of a steel ladder.
Lounging on the long, narrow platform were more than a dozen men, some
stretched upon their backs, others lying with their heads pillowed upon
their arms, but in every case one hand was outstretched to grasp the
stanchions. The precaution was necessary, for the boat was floundering
heavily in the long, sullen rollers.
Instinctively Sefton gave a glance in the direction of the sun. It was
now broad daylight. The orb of day, high in the heavens, betokened the
fact that it was approaching the hour of noon. By the direction of the
shadows cast upon the deck, it was now apparent that the U boat's course
was a little east of north. Away on the starboard hand was a seemingly
interminable range of frowning cliffs, the nearmost being but two or
three miles distant. They were the rock-bound shores of Donegal.
Holding Leslie tightly by the arm, for the lad was not accustomed to the
Atlantic swell, Sefton marched him up and down the deck between the
after end of the conning-tower and the stern. Although the limited
promenade was still further curtailed by the prone bodies of the crew,
the latter paid no attention to the two prisoners.
On the platform surrounding the conning-tower was the unter-leutnant who
had ordered their arrest. Scanning the horizon with his binoculars, he,
too, seemed indifferent to the presence of the two Englishmen. With
him, and stationed at a small wheel in the wake of a binnacle, was a
quartermaster. The conning-tower hatchway was closed, owing possibly to
the spray that literally swept the fore part of the submarine, and was
flung high over the domed top of the "brain of the ship".
"Where are we now?" asked Leslie.
"Off the Irish coast," replied his brother.
"Wish one of our destroyers would put in an appearance," remarked Leslie
wistfully.
The sub made no audible reply. His views upon the matter, based upon
actual experience, told him pretty plainly that the captain of a British
war-ship would not be likely to ascertain whether there were compatriots
on board the craft he purposed to destroy. Also, there had been fully
authenticated cases of the Huns locking the prisoners down below before
they abandoned the sinking ship. Sefton did not mind running legitimate
risks in action, but he had a strong objection to being "done in" by
British guns.
His reveries were interrupted by a shrill whistle from the
conning-tower. Instantly the somnolent men were roused into activity.
In less than thirty seconds Sefton and his brother were tumbled below,
the decks were cleared, and the hatches closed.
By the inclination of the floor of the compartment that served as a cell
Sefton realized that the U boat was diving. Almost at the same time
there was a muffled detonation as a 12-pounder shell, fired from a
destroyer at a distance of 7500 yards, exploded immediately above the
spot where the submarine had disappeared.
"Good heavens, she holed!" ejaculated the sub, as the U boat quivered
and dipped to an alarming angle. Momentarily he expected to hear, above
the rattle of the machinery, the irresistible inrush of water and the
shrieks of the doomed crew.
But in this he was mistaken. The nearness of the explosion of the shell
had urged upon the submarine's kapitan the necessity for haste.
Thrusting the diving-planes hard down, he caused the U boat to dive with
unusual abruptness, never bringing the vessel upon an even keel until
she had descended to a depth of twelve fathoms.
The rest of the day was passed in utter monotony as far as the prisoners
were concerned. Although it was two hours before the U boat dared to
expose the tips of her periscopes above the surface, the greater part of
the day was spent in running submerged.
Towards evening U99 ascended, and, altering course, stood in pursuit of
a small tramp. After a short chase, for the former had the advantage of
15 knots in speed, the submarine approached sufficiently near to be able
to fire a shot close to her quarry.
Almost immediately the tramp slowed down and hoisted American colours.
It did not take U99 long to range up alongside, and the unterleutnant
and half a dozen seamen proceeded on board.
The prize was a Yankee, bound from Boston to Liverpool with a cargo of
warlike stores. According to arrangements, she should have been met and
escorted by a patrol vessel; but, although the latter was hourly
expected, something had occurred to delay her.
"We'll have to sink you," declared the German officer.
The "old man"--a typical New Englander--shrugged his shoulders.
"Wal, I reckon yer can," he replied coolly.
"You don't seem concerned by the fact."
"Not I, stranger. This hyer ship an' cargo is jest insured up to the
hilt in 'The Narragut Marine Assurance Company'. An' since the bulk of
the shareholders are Huns--wal, I guess it's 'nuff said."
"Ach! Then I suppose I must let you go," exclaimed the baffled German
officer. "If you fall in with any British war-vessels you might tell
them that we have two Englishmen on board."
"Maybe you'd care to let us give 'em a passage?" hazarded the Boston
skipper.
"If that had been our intention we should have done so without asking a
favour," rejoined the unter-leutnant.
"Perhaps you would care to examine the ship's papers?" enquired the
master. His keen eyes had detected a small, swiftly moving object on
the horizon--the expected patrol boat. Cap'n Hiram Goslow, although a
tough Republican, was quite in sympathy with the Allies. On previous
voyages he had fallen foul of the Huns, and the treatment he had
received still rankled. "Maybe you aren't quite satisfied about the
'Narragut Marine Assurance Company' stunt?"
For the next half-minute the fate of U99 with all on board trembled in
the balance. The unterleutnant, only too pleased to have the
opportunity of finding a flaw in Captain Goslow's statement, was about
to accept the invitation, when a warning shout from the kapitan of the U
boat brought the boarding-party scrambling on board with the utmost
alacrity.
To the accompaniment of a chorus of jeers and laughter from the American
crew, the submarine submerged and was lost to sight.
Although Jack Sefton and his brother were in ignorance of the precise
nature of the meeting with the tramp and the imperturbable Captain
Goslow, they knew by the unwonted noises and the shutting-down of the
motors that something had transpired. The sudden closing of the
hatchways, and the hasty dive taken, told the sub that once again the
ceaseless vigilance of the British navy had been responsible for a bad
quarter of an hour for the Germans.
The kapitan's boast to the effect that his prisoners would be landed at
Wilhelmshaven at nine o'clock was an empty one. Wildly exciting
moments, when the U boat found herself foul of a maze of steel nets,
delayed her progress, until at length U99 arrived at a position
forty-five miles N.N.W. of Heligoland.
Here a wireless message was received, the purport of which was not
hailed with any degree of enthusiasm by the weary and almost exhausted
crew. They were on the point of completing a fortnight's cruise of
strenuous discomfort, physical exertion, and mental strain. Now,
instead of proceeding to Wilhelmshaven for a period of recuperation,
they were ordered to make for a certain rendezvous and await the
submarine depot-ship _Kondor_.
Officers and crew knew what this meant. Heavy losses amongst the German
_unterseebooten_ flotillas had necessitated the U99 being pressed into
an extension of present service. She was to replenish stores and
torpedoes, and to be attached to the submarine flotilla operating with
the High Seas Fleet. Evidently another big movement was contemplated in
the North Sea.
Something had to be done to bolster up the rapidly crumbling tissue of
lies by which the German Admiralty had gulled the Teutonic world. Never
in the history of naval warfare had a victorious fleet been compelled to
remain inactive in its home ports beyond the period necessary for
revictualling, replenishing of warlike stores, and making defects good.
Nine weeks or more had elapsed since the glorious victory off Jutland,
and still the Hun fleet clung tenaciously to its moorings. Even the
fat-headed burghers who frequented the _bier-gartens_ of Berlin began to
realize that the crushing defeat of the British in the North Sea had not
resulted in any increase of provisions or in the abolition of the hated
food tickets.
There was a fly in the ointment. Steps had to be taken to counteract
its baneful influence.
Almost in desperation, several German Dreadnoughts, accompanied by light
cruisers and destroyers, emerged from the Heligoland Bight. Amongst them
were the _Westfalen_ and _Nassau_, sister ships, whose scars received in
the Jutland fight had been hurriedly patched up in the Wilhelmshaven
dockyards. Escorted by several Zeppelins, the Hun fleet steamed
westward--not to give battle, but to make an attempt to copy Beatty's
incomparable strategy.
Night was falling when U99 made fast alongside the _Kondor_. She was
not alone. In the vicinity were a dozen or more _unterseebooten_ of a
similar type, awaiting wireless orders from the giant airship that was
scouting fifty miles or so in the direction of the shores of Great
Britain.
"Up on deck!" ordered the petty officer in whose particular charge the
two Seftons had been placed.
The sub and his brother obeyed promptly. Had they lingered, their
movements would have been accelerated by a kick from the Hun's heavy
sea-boot.
The transformation from the artificially-lighted compartment to the
rapidly gathering night made it impossible for Sefton to take in his
surroundings until his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom. At first he
was under the impression that the submarine was berthed in harbour,
until he discerned the towering outlines of the sea-going depot-ship and
the absence of wharves and buildings.
Far away to the eastward the horizon was streaked with the
rapidly-moving search-lights of a large fleet. The skyward-directed
rays were a direct challenge to Beatty's squadrons. In unlike
conditions to those of the Jutland battle, the Huns made no attempt to
steal off under cover of darkness. They had a set purpose in exposing
their position to the British fleet.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Sefton. "The Huns are out again. What's the game
this time?"
He glanced westward, half expecting to see the misty outlines of the
Grand Fleet silhouetted against the last faint streak of crimson on the
horizon, but the sky-line was unbroken.
"Hurry, pigs of Englishmen!" ordered the German petty officer,
indicating a "Jacob's ladder" that hung from the side of the _Kondor_.
"We have had enough of you. Soon you will see----" He stopped
abruptly, fearing that his words might be overheard by the grim kapitan
of the submarine.
Agilely Leslie ascended the swaying rope-ladder, the sub following close
behind in case the inexperienced lad should lose his hold. But young
Sefton acquitted himself wonderfully. The Huns had no chance of a laugh
at his expense.
Contrary to their expectations, the two prisoners were not conducted
below. With an armed seaman standing behind them they were stationed on
the raised poop, from whence they could see as much of the operations as
the feeble light permitted.
Promptly hoses were coupled up, pumping volumes of petrol into U99's
tanks. Fully charged accumulators were hoisted out and lowered down the
submarine's after hatchway, while the for'ard hatch was opened to
receive a dozen large torpedoes closely approaching the British 21-inch
weapons.
At midnight a wireless operator handed the kapitan of the _Kondor_ a
message, the text of which caused the officer to issue a string of
orders. Quickly the hawsers securing the submarine to the depot-ship
were cast off, and U99, forging slowly ahead, picked up her station in
line with the rest of the flotilla. Then, at a given signal, the
submarines proceeded in a north-westerly direction, while the _Kondor_
steamed toward the invisible German battleships.
At this stage of the proceedings, Sefton and his brother were ordered
below, and placed in a cell on the orlop deck, twelve feet or more below
the waterline. In utter darkness, for even the luxury of a single light
was denied them, they sat, listening to the plash of the waves against
the side, until sleep came as a welcome relief to the strain of the day.
Several times the sub awoke with a start. A nightmare gripped him.
Normally strong nerved, the cramped and dark cell, and the almost
certain fate that awaited him should the _Kondor_ be sunk, filled him
with vague terrors. In vain he tried to rally himself. The ordeal of
the shell-swept bridge of the _Calder_ seemed as naught compared with
the gruesome atmosphere of the below-water-line prison.
The hours wore on, but the unexpected torpedo attack was not
forthcoming. No thunder of guns broke the almost uncanny silence. No
longer the waves dashed themselves against the side plating of the hull.
Only a sullen, rolling motion and the faint tremor of the twin propeller
shafting betokened the fact that the vessel was still under way.