"There's a bit of a dust-up on board, sir," reported Sub-lieutenant
Devereux of Submarine E--, as the British craft steadily overhauled the
_Kondor_, whose engines had already been stopped in response to the
peremptory signal. "Fellows scrapping like billy-ho. I can just see
their heads at intervals above the taffrail."
"They can scrap as much as they like while they have the chance,"
remarked Lieutenant-Commander Huxtable grimly. "You know your
instructions, Mr. Devereux? Any rumpus, then signal us, and we'll give
them our last torpedo."
A canvas collapsible boat had been brought up from below, and in this
the boarding-officer and five seamen, all armed, took their places.
Both the _Kondor_ and the submarine were almost without way, lying at
two cables'-lengths apart, E--'s two quick-firers covering the prize as
the boat made for the German vessel.
Devereux was received with well-feigned affability by the soi-disant
Swedish skipper, a politeness that the sub thought fit to reciprocate,
at least for the present.
But when Devereux had examined the supposed _Gefle's_ papers his manner
underwent a change.
"Thanks for letting me see them, Herr Kapitan," he remarked, "but now I
must ask you to order your crew below and consider yourself a prisoner
of war. I warn you that at any attempt at resistance your ship will be
sent to the bottom."
"But----," began the astonished Hun. "I--I do not understand. This
Swedish merchant-ship. You mistake make."
"Perhaps," drawled the sub. "If I have, I'll take full responsibility.
If you can satisfactorily explain to the British naval authorities why
you were surrounded by Hun submarines yesterday, why you supplied them
with munitions of war, why you were then His Imperial Majesty's ship
_Kondor_, and why you are now the s.s. _Gefle_----."
"Donnerwetter!" ejaculated the German skipper furiously, then, before
Devereux could interpose, he dashed out of the chart-house and shouted
to one of the officers stationed aft.
Almost immediately a muffled explosion was heard, and the _Kondor_,
giving a violent shudder, began to settle by the stern. Rather than
surrender, their captain had given orders for a bomb to be exploded in
the after hold.
"We have cheated you, Englishman!" he exclaimed in a shrill falsetto.
There was a wild rush for the boats. Hastily those in davits were
lowered, with the result that one was capsized, while in the confusion a
German seaman leapt headlong into the submarine's collapsible boat and
overturned it.
To do him credit, the kapitan made no attempt to quit the bridge.
Regarding the British officer with a leer of triumph, he waited while
the panic-stricken men got clear of the doomed ship.
Meanwhile, having witnessed the swamping of her dinghy, E--had
approached with the intention of taking off her boarding-party.
"What's that?" exclaimed Devereux, as, during a temporary lull in the
clamour, the sound of a voice appealing for help was borne to his ears.
The words were shouted in unmistakable English.
"Someone cooped up down below, sir," declared one of the submarine's
crew.
Devereux looked enquiringly at the German skipper of the _Kondor_. The
latter too had heard the shout. The self-assurance and air of
contemptuous indifference faded instantly.
"You murderous swine!" ejaculated the sub. "What dirty game have you
been up to? Come along down below with me."
The Hun, trembling violently, clung desperately to the bridge rail. The
risk of going below and being taken down by the sinking ship was nothing
compared with the fear of a just retribution.
It was not a suitable occasion for arguing the point. Devereux, a huge,
loose-limbed fellow, was a giant beside the little, podgy Hun.
Wrenching the kapitan's hand from the rail, Devereux dropped him to the
deck like a sack of flour, then, skipping down the bridge ladder, he
picked him up and carried him, screaming and struggling, down the
companion.
Guided by the sounds, the sub bore his captive for'ard, two of the
submarine's crew following their youthful officer.
Already the stern of the _Kondor_ was almost level with the water, while
her decks inclined at a steep angle. Above the noise of the inrushing
water and the hiss of escaping steam, could be heard the now frantic
appeal for help.
At the door of the cell Devereux was confronted by a grave problem. The
place was locked, and the kapitan, asserting truthfully that he did not
possess a key, was clamouring incoherently that the mistake in
overlooking the fact that there were prisoners below was not his, but
that of some of his subordinates.
"Stand aside there!" shouted Devereux to the inmates of the cell.
Whipping out his revolver he sent a bullet crashing through the lock,
then, heedless of the cry of agony that came from the German skipper, he
charged the splintered door with his shoulder.
In the half light he was dimly aware that two people were scrambling
between the debris.
"Any more?" he asked.
"No," was the reply, as the two rescued men, assisted by the sailors,
reeled along the sloping alley-way to the ladder.
Having seen the would-be victims of German _Kultur_ safely on their way
to the upper deck, Devereux realized that it was quite time to make good
his own escape, for the water was beginning to surge for'ard along the
sombre orlop deck. As he turned to make his way aft he became aware
that the kapitan, moaning dismally, was staggering in the opposite
direction, whence there was no outlet.
"Where are you off to, you blithering idiot?" shouted the young officer.
In a couple of strides he overtook the Hun, gripped him round the waist,
and carried him on deck. Then, to his surprise, Devereux found that the
kapitan's face was streaming with blood. A sliver of lead from the
bullet that had demolished the lock of the cell had struck him in the
right eye, completely destroying the optic nerve.
"Can't say I feel sorry for you," thought the sub-lieutenant,
recollections of the cold-blooded cruelty of the Hun vividly in his
mind. Nevertheless, still holding the injured skipper, he leapt
overboard, whither the rest of the boarding-party had preceded him.
Strong as he was, Devereux had a hard tussle to swim to the submarine.
Caught by vicious eddies, swirled to and fro like a straw on the surface
of a mountain torrent, he was almost exhausted when hauled into safety.
Giving a glance over his shoulder as he was assisted to the deck of his
own craft, Devereux saw that the _Kondor_ was making her last plunge.
Throwing her bluff bows high in the air, she disappeared in a smother of
foam and a pall of black smoke mingled with steam.
Then, to his surprise, upon going aft to report to his commanding
officer, Devereux found Huxtable shaking, like a pump-handle, the hand
of one of the men he had rescued.
"By Jove!" exclaimed the astonished Devereux. "Blest if we haven't----!
Why, it's Sefton!"
"Guilty, m'lud!" replied that worthy.
"And Crosthwaite--he wasn't on that hooker?" asked Devereux anxiously.
"No, thank heaven," replied Sefton fervently. "He's still in hospital.
This is my young brother. I've got to blame him for this business, the
young rascal. It was a narrow squeak for the pair of us."
"It was," assented Huxtable gravely. "We spotted the _Kondor_ yesterday
and kept her under observation."
"Then you bagged that Hun battleship?" enquired Sefton.
"No, worse luck," replied the lieutenant-commander of E--. "She altered
helm just as we were having a shot at her, and some other fellows did
the trick. Mustn't complain, though. We are all members of the same
co-operative society in the trade. The _Kondor's_ crew? A few hours in
the boats won't hurt them, and I'll wireless our destroyers. They are
too villainous a crew to slip out of our hands. Come below, old man,
and we'll rig the pair of you out in dry kit. With luck, you ought to
be in Pompey again within twenty-four hours."
----
Pacing the diminutive quarter-deck of H.M.T.B.D. _Boanerges_, as she
swung to the first of the flood-tide, were two naval officers. It was
too dark to distinguish their features, even in the red glow of their
cigarettes.
Three months had elapsed since the desperate struggle on Blackstone
Edge. The _Boanerges_, a brand-new destroyer recently delivered from
the Clyde, had just commissioned at Portsmouth for service with the
Grand Fleet.
"My dear Boxspanner," remarked the taller of the twain, "I've come to
the conclusion that life ashore isn't worth the candle. In common
parlance, I'm fed up. The last straw is the abominable petrol tax.
Just fancy, the blighters allow me two gallons a month----"
"You weren't on leave for more than three weeks, Pills," interrupted the
engineer-lieutenant.
"Just so; that's the rub. I could have done with a three months'
allowance, and used the lot in a week. By the way, talking of that new
carburetter----"
"Boat ahoy!" came a hoarse hail from the fo'c'sle as the lynx-eyed
look-out detected a dark object approaching under oars towards the
destroyer.
"Aye, aye!" was the orthodox reply, given in clear, decisive tones.
The boat was brought smartly alongside the accommodation-ladder, and a
young officer came briskly over the side. Jack Sefton, "sub" no longer
but a full-fledged "luff", as the two gold rings, surmounted by a curl,
on each of his sleeves denoted.
"Well?" enquired Boxspanner eagerly. "Have you seen Crosthwaite?"
"Saw him this afternoon," was the reply. "Passed the medical board with
flying colours. He's reported fit for duty on the 8th."
"Good business!" ejaculated Stirling fervently.
"And," continued Sefton, "I'm in the know. Our owner's due for
promotion. He'll be given a light cruiser; and unless I'm very much
mistaken we'll have Crosthwaite as our skipper before long."
"Quartermaster!" said Sefton, as he turned to descend the
companion-ladder.
"Sir," replied that worthy, already known to our readers as Thomas
Brown, A.B., but now a promising petty officer.
"See that I am turned out at 5.45."
"Aye, aye, sir."
The three officers disappeared below. The quartermaster smiled grimly
as the faint words of the chorus of "They don't run corridor cars on our
branch line" caught his ear, followed by an emphatic "Chuck it, old
bird."
"Proper jonnick they are, every mother's son of 'em," muttered P.O.
Brown, as he walked for'ard. "Chaps as us fellows would go through 'ell
with, if we ain't done so already," his thought reverting to that
memorable action in the North Sea when the Huns fled before Jellicoe's
armed might.
And thus we say "Adieu," or perhaps "Au revoir," to three gallant
gentlemen who had so worthily played their parts in upholding the honour
of the White Ensign with Beatty off Jutland.