A DOUBLE ARREST.
CAPTAIN RAMSHAW'S next step was to hold a consultation with some of
his officers as to the advisability of coping with the internal peril
that threatened the ship.
Accordingly Lymore and Aubyn, as representatives of the
deck-officers, and McBride and Raeburn for the engine-room staff,
were called to the captain's cabin. For once that cosily-furnished
apartment reeked of paraffin, for the chief engineer and his
assistant had come practically straight from their work, merely
stopping to remove from their faces and hands the greasy black oil
and had used paraffin for that purpose.
"Don't apologize, Mr. McBride," said the "old man" affably.
"Circumstances alter cases, and it is far preferable to have the reek
of honest oil than the fumes of a German shell. Now to get straight
to the point: have you a plan, Mr. McBride, whereby we can secure
this man of yours, Stone, without occasioning comment amongst his
comrades; and especially not to alarm the passenger who has taken
such a violent fancy to him?"
The chief engineer rubbed his chin and knitted his shaggy brows.
"I can arrange, sir, to have him sent on deck, the miserable worrm.
Beyond that, sir, I venture to suggest 'tis a matter for yoursel' to
keep the passenger in the dark."
"Now, Mr. Lymore, have you made inquiries about the passenger Mr.
Aubyn described?"
"I've interviewed the chief steward, sir. He says that this man
registered as Mr. Duncan McDonald, of Port Elizabeth."
"There's by far too many of these rascally Germans going about with
guid old Scots names," declared McBride vehemently.
"Quite so," agreed Captain Ramshaw, "but unfortunately we have no
evidence to prove that this fellow is a German, except that he spoke
the Teuton language. He might be a Britisher after all."
"He's nae Scot, then," said the chief engineer hotly.
"I think I can suggest a good plan, sir," said Raeburn.
"Carry on, then," remarked Captain Ramshaw encouragingly.
"One of the greasers in my watch--a rattling good fellow--he's made
five trips in the ship, sir--strongly resembles Stone in appearance.
If you could arrest Stone and clap him in irons, we could get
Tretheway, the man I refer to, to impersonate him and lure this
Duncan McDonald----"
"Steady, laddie; 'tes nae Duncan McDonald," remonstrated McBride.
"The passenger who goes by the name of McDonald," corrected Raeburn.
"He could be lured into putting in an appearance. Then we could nab
him, too."
"It's feasible, certainly," said Captain Ramshaw. "You think you can
arrange this?"
"Yes, sir," replied Raeburn.
"Very good; then perhaps Mr. Aubyn and you will be at the rendezvous
at seven bells. Mr. Aubyn will tell off a couple of hands in the
event of any display of resistance. The man may be armed."
"We'll take the risk, sir," said Terence.
"Then that's settled. If you'll send Stone on deck, Mr. McBride, the
sooner we have him under arrest the better."
"And the sooner I'm back in the engine-room the better, I'm thinking,
sir," asserted McBride. "Nae doubt the dirty rogue will be up to his
tricks again while I'm not there tae keep an eye on him."
A few minutes later Stone, sent under the pretence of fetching some
article from the bos'un's store, was promptly pounced upon by a
couple of quartermasters.
"What's the game, old sports?" he asked in a strong Cockney accent
and with well-feigned innocence.
His captors made no reply, but led their unresisting prisoner for'ard
and placed him in a compartment under lock and key.
As soon as the greaser's arrest was reported, Chief Officer Lymore
and Aubyn went to inform him of the charge.
"Attempting to cripple the engines, eh? Strikes me, sir, you're on
the wrong tack," muttered the man.
"Your fellow-conspirator does not seem to think so," remarked Lymore
at a venture.
The accused's features flushed, then turned deadly pale.
"You've got von Eckenhardt, then?" he asked, taken completely aback.
"Yes, the game's up," assented the chief officer, who, although
equally astonished, had the presence of mind to entirely conceal his
feelings.
"Then I may as well make the best of things. It won't be for long,"
declared the prisoner nonchalantly. "Our cruisers will soon make
short work of the 'Saraband,' and then the boot will be on the other
foot."
"Your cruisers?" exclaimed Lymore.
"Yes; I'm a German subject, Mr. Chief Officer, and don't you forget
it. I demand to receive proper treatment as a prisoner of war."
"You'd get it, my man, if I had my way," retorted Lymore grimly.
"Von Eckenhardt!" exclaimed Captain Ramshaw when his subordinate
reported the result of their interview. "Then that is the real name
of the so-called Duncan McDonald. It was a cute move of yours, Mr.
Lymore."
The chief officer flushed with pleasure.
"I presume, sir, we can now arrest him, without waiting till this
evening?"
"No, we'll stick to our original plan, Mr. Lymore. I have good
reasons."
During the day the passengers were restricted to a limited portion of
the decks allotted to the various classes. None were permitted to
approach the 4.7-in. guns. The sight of the ammunition and the gun's
crew standing by would occasion comment. A simple excuse was given
for this restriction, and the passengers accepted it without demur.
For several hours the wireless was still "jammed." Occasionally
messages were received, but none could be sent. Those that did get
through were of slight importance and had no reference to the war.
At noon McBride's strenuous efforts were crowned with success. The
engines were once more in working, order and speed was soon worked up
to sixteen knots. A course was immediately shaped for Las Palmas,
where the "Saraband" would have to coal before resuming her homeward
voyage.
Just after four bells (2 p.m.) the wireless resumed uninterrupted
activity. A message asking the name and position of the ship was
recorded and referred to the bridge. "Ask them what ship is calling,"
ordered Captain Ramshaw.
"H.M.S. 'Padstow,' lat. 5°0'30" N., long. 30°1'15" W. Shape a
course towards me. Enemy cruisers are about," was the reply.
Captain Ramshaw called for a Navy List. H.M.S. "Padstow" was found
to be a light cruiser of 4600 tons.
"Very good; I am acting according to your directions," was his answer
by wireless, but in reality it was very different. He ordered the
course to be altered until the "Saraband" would pass three hundred
miles to the eastward of the position given by the supposed British
cruiser. In addition he gave instructions that no wireless messages
were to be sent from the ship, in order that she might not betray her
presence, for he felt convinced that the call was a decoy sent by one
of the German commerce destroyers.
During the afternoon the chief steward reported the result of his
observations upon the pseudo Duncan McDonald. The man, he declared,
was a regular "hanger-on" to his fellow-passengers. He seemed to
have plenty of money and squandered it at card-playing. Yet he did
not associate with the German passengers, nor could the steward
discover who was the woman that had conferred with McDonald on the
night when Aubyn and Raeburn had him under observation.
Just before seven bells the arrangements were completed for von
Eckenhardt's arrest. Terence and the fourth engineer took up their
positions in the empty storeroom; two burly quartermasters were
hiding just inside the engine-room door, while Tretheway, in the
guise of the now detained Stone, was idling in the alley-way.
Presently von Eckenhardt appeared. Tretheway, keeping his face from
the light, turned his back upon the approaching German.
Twice the fellow walked softly past the supposed Stone, then tapping
him on the shoulder said something in German. What it was Tretheway
did not understand, but acting upon instructions he turned and
grasped the Teuton by the wrists. Aubyn and Raeburn dashed from their
place of concealment and the two quartermasters ran towards the spot.
Taken wholly at a disadvantage von Eckenhardt at first offered no
resistance. He sullenly regarded his captors, without uttering a
word. Then, with a sudden effort, he almost wrenched himself clear.
Raeburn, doubled up by a knee-punch in the wind, subsided heavily
against the metal wall of the alley-way. The two quartermasters
cannoned into each other in attempting to regain their grip upon the
captive. Tretheway, hit upon the point of the chin, tripped over the
coaming of the engine-room doorway; while Terence, in spite of a
vicious kick on the shin, managed to retain his hold upon von
Eckenhardt's collar.
To and fro they swayed, now locked in a deathly embrace. Before the
quartermasters could recover their wits, Aubyn and the German toppled
over the coaming, and on top of the body of the prostrate Tretheway.
Inside the door was a slippery steel platform, barely three feet in
width and protected by a light handrail. To the right and left iron
ladders led to the floor of the engine-room. Seven feet below the
edge of the platform was the piston-head of one of the cylinders--a
vision of gleaming metal partly veiled by wreathes of eddying steam.
In an instant Terence realized his adversary's plan. Rather than
submit to being made a prisoner von Eckenhardt was striving to throw
himself into the midst of the moving machinery. And not only that: he
meant to take one at least of his antagonists with him. He, Terence,
was the one singled out for this wholly unwelcome attention.
In vain Aubyn tried to get a foothold. The slippery iron plate
afforded no grip. His arms, locked about the body of the German, were
imprisoned by the fellow's powerful grasp, for although small in
stature and sparely built, frenzy had given the German the strength
of a Hercules. Suddenly von Eckenhardt planted his feet against the
inside sill of the door. With a terrific jerk he hurled himself under
the handrail. Aubyn had just time to bend his partially held wrist
and grasp the stanchion; then both men dropped over the edge
immediately above the ponderous machinery.
There they hung, swaying with the result of the sudden jerk. Aubyn's
hand retained his grasp upon the oiled metal stanchion in spite of
the fact that he was sustaining the weight of himself and another,
and that the edge of the platform was pressing cruelly against his
arm. All the while von Eckenhardt, clinging to his antagonist like a
monkey, was punching blindly with his disengaged left hand in the
hope of making the fourth officer relax his hold.
It was now that the quartermasters were able to come to the aid of
their young officer. During the struggle on the platform there was no
opportunity for them to intervene--no foothold on that slippery
surface. Raeburn, too, was temporarily "out of action," but by this
time was beginning to take a renewed interest in life.
One of the quartermasters grasped Aubyn by the collar of his white
drill uniform coat. Even in his dire peril Terence wondered whether
his tailor had put good stitches into his work. He fully expected to
find the collar being torn from the rest of the garment.
Then the second quartermaster helped. Lying at full length on the
metal platform he seized the still struggling Eckenhardt by the
waist. Then with a powerful blow with his disengaged fist the man
struck the Teuton full on the temple.
[Illustration: "Both men dropped over the edge immediately above the
ponderous machinery."]
Stunned by the force of the blow the German relaxed his hold. Were it
not for the quartermaster's iron grasp he would have fallen into the
maze of machinery.
"Now's your chance, Tom," exclaimed the man breathlessly. "I'll hold
this chap while you haul up Mr. Aubyn."
Assisted by Raeburn the first quartermaster succeeded in raising
Terence on the platform and thence into the alley-way. Well-nigh
exhausted Aubyn was glad to sit down while the others proceeded to
secure the senseless von Eckenhardt.