ALL IN A DAY'S WORK.
"LIGHT on the port bow, sir," sung out a hoarse voice in the
darkness.
Sub-Lieutenant Aubyn rubbed his eyes with the back of his lamb-skin
glove. The action was necessary, for his face was encrusted with
frozen spray--icicles that, driven with terrific force by the howling
wind, cut so deeply into his weather-beaten skin as to draw blood.
Then, grasping his telescope with his benumbed fingers he steadied
the instrument on the edge of a "storm-dodger" and brought it to
bear upon the object indicated.
Two months of monotonous patrol-work had passed since the day on
which the "Strongbow" left Portsmouth Harbour. The rigours of a
winter in the North Atlantic had severely tried the physical and
mental capabilities of the officers and crew. As the days shortened
and the nights correspondingly increased, and the periods of weak
sunshine became more and more rare, the stress upon the ship's
company grew. Buffeted by wintry gales, swept by icy seas, the
"Strongbow" kept doggedly to her station. For a week at a time no
strange sail would be sighted. The armed liner seemed to be an atom
of isolation in the midst of a deserted foam-flecked ocean; yet hers
was a particular duty to be done for King and Country.
Coming from a regular route that for the most part lay in tropical
and sub-tropical seas the original officers of the ship felt the
climatic change acutely. Most of them, who hourly faced death in the
shape of unseen mines, quailed at the thought of having to use a
razor, and grew beards of wondrous trim.
Aubyn was one of the exceptions, yet his appearance was such that he
resembled, to use Raeburn's expression, "a cross between a teddy-bear
and a golliwog." In addition to double underclothing he sported three
thick sweaters, a heavy great-coat and an enormous woollen muffler.
Over this perambulating bundle of clothing he wore a large yellow
oilskin and sea-boots. His naval peaked cap had given place to a
woollen "helmet" surmounted by a "sou'-wester" kept in place, against
the frantic efforts of the wind to dislodge it, by a black and white
plaid "comforter" tied tightly under his chin. And in spite of this
load of garments the cold chilled him to the bone.
Terence's appearance in the matter of dress was in keeping with the
rest of the officers and crew. Gifts of woollen comforts from the
womenfolk of the Empire had been showered upon the Royal Navy, and in
spite of the apparent redundancy of garments every article was
utilized and appreciated. Commander Ramshaw had been heard to remark
that when the men were given an order they had to almost undress
before they could carry it out. He was not far out, for although the
amount of clothing worn was not superfluous it certainly hampered the
men's movements.
The "Strongbow's" task was an arduous, necessary, and momentous one.
Like scores of her consorts the joy of battle was denied her. The
possibility of any of her crew smelling powder was a very remote one.
She was never likely to join in the chase of a fleeing enemy warship.
Her men would never, according to present circumstances, witness the
last plunge of a hostile cruiser, sent to the bottom by the guns of a
man-of-war. Honour and glory were not to be hers when the story of
the Great War comes to be written in letters of gold upon the pages
of the world's history.
No, she was only a patrol-ship; doomed to cruise within certain
limits and examine all strange merchant-craft that passed within
sight of the alert lookout. Yet by so doing she was driving a nail
into the coffin of the vaunted German Empire. She was helping to
tighten the bands of economic pressure that were slowly but surely
crippling the resources of the Mailed Fist.
It was not until Aubyn had removed the thick deposit of frozen spray,
which, in spite of the protective shade had encrusted the object
glass of the telescope, that he was able to distinguish the outlines
of the strange vessel. She was a three-masted topsail schooner,
close-reefed and on the starboard tack, showing her port light, which
was burning brightly.
No vessel engaged in carrying contraband to Germany would be likely
to show navigation lamps while attempting to steal through the cordon
of British patrol-ships. The sub. knew that; yet it was his duty to
report the presence of the stranger in order that the "Strongbow"
could make a proper examination of her papers.
Upon receipt of the intelligence that the armed liner was heading for
an unknown vessel, Captain Ripponden, aroused before he had "turned
in" for less than an hour, hurried to the bridge. Orders were issued
for the cutter's crew to stand by, while the "Strongbow" was
manoeuvred to take up a position to windward of the schooner.
Promptly the stranger obeyed the order to heave-to. With her lean bow
plunging into the angry seas like a chopper she lost way two cables'
lengths from the British patrol-ship, a row of sou'-westered heads
lined the lee-rail, as her crew watched the approach of "Strongbow's"
boat.
Half an hour later the boarding officer returned.
"No luck, sir," he reported. "She's our old friend, the 'Sarmiento,'
of Boston, U.S.A., bound for Bergen."
He was justified in calling the schooner an old friend. Three days
previously the "Strongbow" had fallen in with and had boarded the
self-same vessel. For three days the "Sarmiento" had tacked and
tacked in the teeth of the strong nor'-easter, never gaining a mile,
while the patrol-ship in keeping her to appointed limits had again
fallen in with her.
"All in a night's work," remarked Captain Ripponden, as he prepared
to return to his cabin. "Better luck next time. Mr. Bury, you brought
the cutter alongside in excellent style."
The sub. who had gone to the schooner as boarding-officer saluted.
The praise from his captain had amply recompensed him for the dangers
he and his boat's crew had undergone in traversing the stretch of
angry sea between the two vessels, only to find that he had departed
upon a fruitless errand.
Philosophically he agreed with the skipper that it was all in a
night's work, and made a hurried bolt below to shed his saturated
garments, for in spite of oilskins and sea-boots he was drenched to
the skin.
At eight bells noon on the following day another sail was reported,
this time on the port quarter.
The "Strongbow's" helm was immediately put over and a course shaped
to intercept the stranger.
"German, by all the powers!" ejaculated Commander Ramshaw. "She's
got the confounded cheek to hoist her rascally colours."
The approaching vessel was a large steel barque. Her jibboomless
"stump" bowsprit and the absence of chain-plates betokened her to be
a modern craft and apparently a valuable prize.
The stranger made no attempt to alter course. A score or so of
stolid, fair-haired Teutons were gathered on her short fo'c'sle,
gazing with a faint degree of interest upon the grey-painted vessel
approaching them, till a shot fired across the barque's bows,
followed by a peremptory signal to heave-to roused them to unwonted
activity.
Away aloft swarmed the astonished German seamen. Sail was quickly
reduced, and curtseying to the short steep seas the barque was ready
to receive her prize-masters.
Terence was in charge of the boat detailed to take possession of the
barque. Armed with a revolver and accompanied by fifteen of the crew
with rifles and bayonets, he took his place in the stern sheets of
the boat. Deftly the patent disengaging gear of the falls was cast
off, the men bent to their stout ash oars with a will, and five
minutes later the boat was alongside the barque.
"Vot you vant?" demanded the skipper of the barque, which proved to
be the "Freya" of Bremen. "Your vessel is a prize of his Britannic
Majesty's Government," announced Terence.
"Prize?--I no onderstan'," expostulated the master vehemently. "Dis
Zherman sheep. Zhermany not at war."
"I'm afraid you are greatly mistaken," said Aubyn, as he swung
himself up the side by means of the rope ladder which the crew,
unsuspecting the nature of the visit, although mystified by the
display of arms, had meanwhile lowered. "Germany is at war with
Great Britain, France, Russia, Japan, and Servia."
At the mention of each of these countries the skipper's eyes opened
wider and wider.
"Mein Gott!" he exclaimed, and without another word turned on his
heel and made for his cabin, only to be brought back by a peremptory
order from the young sub.
From the ship's papers it was ascertained that the "Freya" had a most
valuable cargo of nitrates and copper ore--a cargo that would be of
immense service to the German army had the barque escaped the British
patrol. She was a hundred and forty-three days out of Valparaiso, and
during the whole of that time she had not spoken a single vessel;
consequently her crew were in total ignorance of the European War.
Gales and head winds had delayed her; water and provisions remained
sufficient only for three more days. She had been blown so far out of
her course that her master had decided to make a passage round Cape
Wrath rather than beat up the English Channel, and when almost in
sight of the North Sea she had been snapped by the "Strongbow."
Quickly the prize crew went about their work. The German seamen were
ordered below; guards were posted at the hatchways and outside the
officers' quarters. The red, white, and black ensign of the German
Mercantile Marine was lowered and rehoisted under the British flag;
canvas was stowed and preparations were made to take the "Freya" in
tow.
After a considerable amount of skilful and dangerous manoeuvring a
stout hempen hawser was passed from the prize to the "Strongbow," and
wallowing heavily in the latter's wake the "Freya" was towed into
Dingwall.
Almost the first thing that attracted Terence's attention on landing
at Dingwall was a poster on which appeared the words "German Fleet
attempts Bombardment of Yarmouth."
"Another rumour--I'm getting sick of them," ejaculated Aubyn;
nevertheless, he bought a copy of the paper. He was wrong in his
surmise. It was a fact, not a rumour. Several German heavy cruisers
had suddenly appeared off the port in the grey dawn, and had opened a
furious fire. Unaccountably, it seemed, all the projectiles fell
short of their mark. A few, indeed, ploughed up the sand on the
shore, but no damage was done. Everyone was asking, "Will the hostile
cruisers get away safely?"
That same afternoon the news was received that the raiders had
escaped. The chances were eagerly discussed on board the "Strongbow."
It seemed incredible that, in spite of the cordon of British light
cruisers and destroyers a dozen enemy ships should be able to retire
unharmed after their brazen attempt.
"You fellows must remember we haven't official details," remarked
Lieutenant Lymore. "Another thing: you know what the North Sea is
like this time of the year, with the range of vision limited to
perhaps a couple of miles."
"Think they'll try it on again?" asked Raeburn.
"No doubt. Encouraged by their being able to avoid getting into
contact with our fleet they'll have another shot at it, but let's
hope they'll burn their fingers."
Before the "Strongbow" left Dingwall, after coaling ship, a mail,
mostly of belated letters, arrived. Amongst them was one for Aubyn
from his chum Waynsford.
"I suppose you know all about our little excitement here at
Yarmouth," he wrote. "We were rudely disturbed from our bunks by
tremendous firing, and when we turned out we discovered shells
dropping within five hundred yards of the shore. With the naked eye
one could make out the enemy ships fairly distinctly, and with
glasses quite plainly. The shells could be seen falling all around
the little 'Halcyon,' and it was most marvellous how she escaped.
Altering the position of those buoys the night you were here
doubtless upset the German gunners' calculations.
"The Press report that none of the shells did damage is incorrect. Of
course it may be advisable not to give the public full details, but
in your case I think you ought to know."
"Almost the last shell fired struck your mater's house. Went right
through the dining-room without exploding and buried itself five feet
in the earth on the other side of the building. Lucky you made your
parent clear out, wasn't it?
"I'm under orders to leave Yarmouth and report myself at Scarbro'.
Goodness only knows what for, but 'orders is orders,' as
Coastguardsman Smith is so fond of quoting. If ever you are within
easy distance of Scarbro' and get short leave, look me up.
"Yours most sincerely,
"RICHARD WAYNSFORD."