THE FLOORING OF MR. MCNAB.
PROMPTLY discharged from hospital, Terence was given six days'
leave--a period which he spent with his parent.
He thoroughly appreciated the brief spell of leisure. It was simply
great to be able to turn in at night and sleep soundly till seven
o'clock the next morning. There was no insistent voice of the
messenger: "Please, sir, it's ten minutes to four, and your cocoa's
ready;" no watch upon an exposed bridge in the cold dark hours of a
winter's morning; no monotonous round of ship routine with the
constant menace of being bumped upon a mine.
Yet, in a way, he was glad when his leave was up. The call of duty in
Britain's time of peril was too urgent. He felt he must be doing
something. Even his well-earned leave savoured of "slacking."
On the afternoon of the last day of his holiday Terence received his
order from the Admiralty to proceed to Whale Island for a second
gunnery course. Somewhat to his mother's and his aunt's consternation
he executed a war-dance round the drawing-room, to the imminent peril
of Miss Wilson's objects of art, with which the room was certainly
overcrowded. "A short gunnery course." He took it that that meant
another step to the height of his ambition. If he came through that
with flying colours he concluded that he would be sent to either a
battleship or a cruiser. There could be, he reasoned, no object in
putting a Reserve officer through the mysteries of _heavy_-gun drill
if he were to continue to serve in an armed merchantman, whose
heaviest ordnance consisted of the comparatively small 4.7-in. gun or
the 6-in. at the very outside.
On the other hand, in spite of his experience as officer of the watch
on the "Strongbow" and "Terrier" he would be of little use as
watch-keeping officer on a battleship or cruiser in company. He had
no training in the delicate art of station-keeping, whereby lines of
huge ships keep their respective distances with mathematical nicety,
which can only be acquired by years of experience.
Yet that troubled him but little. So long as he had a chance of
smelling powder under anything approaching equal conditions he would
be content. Rather selfishly he hoped that the German fleet would
skulk in Wilhelmshaven Harbour or in the Kiel Canal until the time
that he found himself on board one of the battleships or big cruisers
of the Grand Fleet.
So with a brand new kit--for he had lost practically all his gear
when the "Terrier" made her plunge--Terence reported himself at Whale
Island--the principal gunnery establishment of the British Empire,
nay, of the whole world--an artificial island, constructed by means
of earth excavated from the huge basin of Portsmouth Dockyard.
Officially Whale Island is a ship, appearing in all official naval
documents as H.M.S. "Excellent." It boasts of a "Quarter-Deck;" ship
routine is carried out almost as faithfully as if the several
thousand men were really afloat instead of being quartered in
barracks. There are spacious parade grounds, diving-tank for
instructing embryo seaman-divers, workshops, and, in the adjoining
Portsea Island, a rifle-range; but all these give precedence to the
gun-batteries.
Almost the whole of the western side of the island is occupied by a
long, low building designated the heavy-gun battery. Here types of
guns, from the monstrous 15-in. downwards, are mounted under similar
conditions to those on shipboard, and used solely for the instruction
of officers and men. Even the "heave" of a ship in a seaway is
allowed for, since some of the ordnance are mounted on "rolling
platforms" designed to make a seaman gunner in training accustomed to
the motion of a vessel under way.
Terence entered into his duties with the keenest zest. His ready mind
quickly grasped the points raised by the instructor. Difficulties
that proved well-nigh insurmountable to several of the class, he
overcame with an ease which astonished both his mentor and himself,
and at the end of the period of training he was the proud possessor
of a first-class certificate signed by the captain of the ship.
Thus it came as a slight disappointment when Terence received orders
to proceed to Rosyth to join H.M. torpedo-boat-destroyer,
"Livingstone." Still, it was a step in the right direction, the sub.
agreed, and that was something to be thankful for.
The "Livingstone" was a modern craft of 965 tons, carried three 4-in.
guns, and was propelled by turbine machinery, steam being raised
exclusively by oil fuel. It was one of the flotillas whose duty lay
in patrolling the easternmost limits of the North Sea, so as to be in
readiness to report the German High Sea Fleet should, in a rash
moment, the Kaiser or his minion Tirpitz give the order for it to
risk annihilation at the hands of Admiral Jellicoe's waiting seamen.
Every alternate fortnight the flotilla to which the "Livingstone"
belonged proceeded to take its spell of arduous duty. The intervening
period it spent in harbour, giving the crew a well-earned rest.
Terence joined his new ship on the second day of his return. The
officers, all young men full of spirits and on excellent terms with
each other, were busy planning how they were to spend the next few
days of comparative leisure. As usual the subject of the war was
hardly mentioned. After days of strenuous watching and waiting, with
the waves constantly sweeping the battened down decks, they were only
too glad to discuss matters other than "shop"--since the German fleet
showed no sign of leaving its lair.
"We're off to Tuilabrail to-morrow, Aubyn," announced the
engineer-lieutenant. "You'll come too, I hope. McNab has issued a
general invitation to the officers of the flotilla."
"Who's Mr. McNab?" asked Terence.
"Oh, don't you know? I've forgotten it's your first time at Rosyth.
McNab is the laird of Tuilabrail--quite a swagger place, not far from
St. Margeret's Hope. There's plenty of sport--shooting and fishing,
and all that, you know."
"'Fraid I'm not much of a hand with a sporting gun," remarked
Terence. "Last time I tried I made an awful ass of myself."
"Fire away and let's have the yarn, old fellow," said a sub., as
cordially as if he had known Aubyn all his life.
"There's not much to tell," replied Terence. "It was while I was
staying at a farm in Devonshire. The farmer asked me to go out
rabbit-shooting. It was tame work bolting the poor little beasts with
ferrets and bowling them over at twenty yards. Well, we were working
a hedge, set in a bank literally honeycombed with rabbit-holes. The
old farmer told me where to stand and cautioned me to let rip
directly I saw the rabbit, as there was plenty of cover about.
"I waited for perhaps five minutes. Then something dashed out of the
hedge like greased lightning. I pulled the trigger and----"
"Peppered the farmer?" hazarded the engineer-lieutenant.
"No, bowled over a fox. Shot the brute dead as a door-nail."
"You rotten sport!" exclaimed several of his listeners.
"Try your luck again," said the lieutenant. "Have you a gun? If not,
I'll lend you one--it's a good one, I can assure you."
So it was arranged that half a dozen officers, including Aubyn,
should go over to Tuilabrail on the following morning and have lunch
with the hospitable Mr. McNab.
"Who is this Mr. McNab?" asked Terence.
No one seemed to know exactly. He had only recently rented
Tuilabrail. Some one said that he had heard that McNab was a wealthy
manufacturer from the Lowlands, who had been obliged to retire early
on account of bad health, but amongst the officers there was a
general opinion that he was a real good old sport.
The sub.'s first night on board a destroyer soon enabled him to
realize that there is a great difference between cruising in an armed
merchantman and serving with a flotilla.
He was officer of the Middle Watch. The "Livingstone" and her
consorts, although supposed to be stationed at Rosyth during the
fortnight, were anchored far up the Firth of Forth, ready at a
moment's notice to steam out into the North Sea should there be a
"wireless" announcing that the German fleet was at last about to risk
The Day.
From where the "Livingstone" lay, save for the anchor lamps of the
flotilla, not a light was visible. Culross and Kincardine on the
north shore and Grangemouth and Boness on the south shore of the
Forth might have been non-existent as far as sound and visibility
were concerned.
It was a raw, misty night, with a keen easterly wind blowing in from
the North Sea. With the wind against the strong ebb tide the sea was
flecked with "white horses" that slapped viciously against the stern
of the destroyer. Overhead the insulated stays of the wireless aerial
moaned fitfully in the blast.
"Boat ahoy!" The hail came from a seaman stationed aft. He had been
indulging in a surreptitious "few puffs" under the lee of the after
4-in. gun, and in a fateful moment had been trying to light his
refractory pipe when a red, white, and green steaming light within
twenty yards of the destroyer aroused him into super-activity.
"Guard-boat!" shouted a gruff voice, intensified by means of a
megaphone.
"Guard-boat, sir!" repeated the lookout for the sub.'s information.
Accompanied by the quartermaster Terence hurried to the side, there
to find a dark grey launch, her outlines barely visible against the
leaden-coloured white-flecked sea.
From a diminutive cabin aft, the yellow flicker of a lantern feebly
illuminated the bronzed features of an officer muffled in oilskins
and sou'-wester.
"Night guard!" announced the officer, without any superfluity of
speech. "All correct?"
"All correct, sir," replied the quartermaster.
"P'raps," rejoined the officer of the night guard sourly. Making a
ten-mile round in a wet launch in the small hours of a winter's
morning tended to make him short-tempered. "Where's the officer of
the watch?"
"Here, sir," replied Terence.
"Very good. You might warn your lookout to lookout a little more
smartly, and not wait until we were alongside your quarter. Where the
dickens would you be now, do you suppose, if it had been a German
torpedo-boat? It's not unlikely, you know. Good-night."
"Good-night, sir," replied Aubyn.
The officer of the night guard closed the door of the cabin on the
unprotected light. In the engine-room a bell clanged, the artificer
started the engines to half-speed ahead and in ten seconds the launch
was lost in the darkness.
Aubyn remained peering out into the night. He could just distinguish
the hail of the destroyer next ahead, followed by the reassuring
"Guard-boat."
The luckless lookout man stood at attention awaiting the sub.'s
pleasure, and trying to forecast the punishment he would receive on
the following morning when his offence was entered in the captain's
defaulters' list. He uttered silent maledictions on the damp "navy
plug" that had distracted his attention for a few critical seconds.
In addition he was to go "on leaf" on the following day: his little
lapse would assuredly "knock the bottom out of that caboodle."
"Well, what have you to say?" asked the sub.
"Nothin', sir; I was properly caught napping," replied the seaman. He
was not going to attempt to bluff his officer by a feeble excuse. He
was too much of a man for that: he would "go through the mill" with a
good grace.
"You were smoking?"
"Yes, sir. I turned to loo'ard to light my pipe, an' that done it."
"Listen, my man," said Aubyn. "I'll not place you in the captain's
report this time. Let this be a warning to you--and be more careful
in the future."
The man saluted and returned to his duty. He was agreeably surprised.
"He's a real jonnick," he muttered. "Sort of chap as 'as got some
regard for a bloomin' matloe who gets a bit adrift. If ever I gets a
chance to repay him I jolly well will, or my name's not Jim Stairs."
After morning Divisions Terence went ashore in company with the other
officers who were to make up the party to visit McNab. Some were
armed with fishing-rods, others with guns, and some with both. All
were in excellent spirits, and evidently determined to "let
themselves go."
A picquet boat took them to Culross, where their host's palatial car
awaited them. After an all too short run Terence found himself at
Tuilabrail Hall.
The house, standing high and surrounded by spacious, well-kept
grounds, enjoyed an uninterrupted panoramic view of the Firth of
Forth. The Forth Bridge, the Grand Fleet lying off Rosyth, and
newly-constructed basins and workshops of the Scottish Portsmouth
were within easy range of vision, while, by the aid of a telescope
Grangemouth, Queensferry, Edinburgh, and Leith could be seen.
This much Terence noticed as he waited under the portico while the
various members of the party were handing their sporting gear over to
the charge of a grave and dignified manservant. Then, escorted by a
liveried footman, the guests were shown into the McNab's
morning-room.
"Our host has evidently overslept himself," remarked Gilroy, the
lieutenant who had offered to lend Terence a sporting-gun and had
faithfully kept his word. Gilroy was a young, pleasant-faced man of
twenty-eight, with three thousand a year, and capable of obtaining
any amount of influence. Yet, although he had more than once been
offered a job on one of the Royal Yachts, he had voluntarily
preferred to endure the obvious discomforts of a destroyer. "Look
here, you fellows, I'll introduce Aubyn when the laird puts in an
appearance. Don't be bashful, my boy; he's quite a free-and-easy
chap. No bally stand on ceremony, you know."
"He's a lucky man to have a swagger show like this," declared the
engineer-lieutenant, who, being without private means and newly
married, found it a hard task to make both ends meet on his Service
pay and allowances. "What a decent view. Look, there's a
battle-cruiser arriving."
The officers crowded to the window. A long, three-funnelled
battle-cruiser, mounting eight large guns and apparently brand new,
for there were patches of red-lead showing on her lofty sides, had
just picked up a mooring-buoy.
"Must be the 'Tiger,'" suggested Gilroy. "I heard she was expected
round, but I didn't think she would put in an appearance so soon. By
Jove, if the Germans pluck up courage to attempt another Scarborough
business, they'll have something to reckon with."
"More than likely----" began another sub., but a hurried footstep in
the corridor warned the guests that their host was about to enter.
The McNab came into the room with an impetuous rush. Being a long and
somewhat narrow apartment, and the door being close to one angle, he
had some distance to traverse to where the officers stood with their
backs to the window. As he strode he seemed to be peering eagerly, as
if to discern the faces of the guests as they stood silhouetted
against the light.
"Good morning, gentlemen," he exclaimed in slow, measured tones that
contrasted with his hurried arrival. "I'm sorry to have kept you
waiting."
"Not at all," replied Gilroy easily. "Acting on your open invitation
we've brought a brother-officer along: Mr. Aubyn--the McNab."
Terence made a step forward. His jaw was tightly set, his face pale
in spite of his tanned complexion. He made no attempt to grasp the
outstretched hand of the tenant of Tuilabrail, but kept his arms
close to his side with his fists firmly clenched.
For a moment the McNab stood with a look of surprise upon his face.
Then his smile of welcome changed into a venomous look. His hand flew
to his pocket.
"_Crash!_"
With a swift and powerful left-hander Terence's fist shot forward,
caught the man full in the centre of the chest and sent him reeling.
The next instant Aubyn's brother-officers were astounded to see their
host prostrate on his back with his arms and legs beating a tattoo on
the carpet, while the sub. sat on his chest.
"Are you mad, man?" demanded Gilroy, laying his hand on the sub.'s
shoulder. The apparently meaningless attack by the officer to whom he
stood sponsor--an outrage upon a man in the sanctity of his
home--could only be the outcome of the frenzy of a disordered mind.
"Far from it," replied Terence. "You fellows might bear a hand and
secure Major von Eckenhardt."
"Von Eckenhardt!" echoed the engineer-commander. "Impossible."
For the name of von Eckenhardt, the master-spy, was only too well
known in naval circles. It was generally acknowledged that more than
one carefully-planned "scoop" had gone awry owing to warnings
received by the German Admiralty from the elusive secret agent.
"Are you Major Karl von Eckenhardt?" demanded Gilroy, after the
officers had set the man upon his feet again.
"Absolutely a mistake. I did not know until a few moments ago that I
had a double whose misdoings would be to my detriment," replied the
McNab, speaking with difficulty, for the effect of the blow he had
received had wellnigh deprived him of breath.
Gilroy and his companions looked enquiringly at Aubyn. Perhaps, after
all, the sub. had made a mistake?
"Under the circumstances, although Mr. Aubyn has shown mistaken zeal
for the Service," continued the McNab, "I am willing to forgive the
outrage, and no doubt Mr. Aubyn will tender an apology. There the
matter will end as far as I am concerned. If you'll excuse me,
gentlemen, I will go and remove the traces of your zealous friend's
super-abundant energy."
Alarmed by the crash upon the floor three menservants had hurried
into the room. There they stood like automatons, each man concealing
under a wooden-like expression a burning curiosity to know what had
happened to their master.
"Don't let him go: watch his hands!" exclaimed Terence. "I'll accept
all responsibility."
The McNab's plausibility vanished.
"Enough of this horse-play," he said vehemently. "James and you
two--throw this--er--gentleman out."
"Stand back--stand back, I say!" ordered Terence, as the three
flunkeys showed signs of obeying their master.
The men paused irresolutely. There were a few seconds of tense
silence. Then the servants revealed themselves in their true
colours--accomplices of the spy, von Eckenhardt.
Drawing automatic pistols from their pockets they levelled them at
the now more than astounded British officers, while von Eckenhardt,
of whose identity Terence had not the faintest doubt, wrestled
furiously with his captors.
It was not compulsion that kept the Germans from using their firearms
it was fear--a dread that their act would assuredly, in the event of
capture, make them indictable on a capital charge.
"Shoot!" shouted von Eckenhardt in German. "Shoot, for the sake of
the Fatherland."
It was Gilroy who saved the situation. Tall and powerfully built, and
a prominent member of the "United Services," he was far away superior
in physical strength to the denounced spy.
With lightning-like rapidity he flung his arms around the Teuton, and
using him as a human buckler and a battering-ram combined, charged
the still irresolute flunkeys.
Half a dozen pistol-shots rang out; not the result of a deliberate
act but of the nervous pressure on the delicate trigger of one of the
automatic weapons. The bullets, flying wide, chipped the oak
panelling, and--omen of ill-luck to the tenant of
Tuilabrail--shattered a mirror into fragments.
In ten seconds Gilroy with his living weapon had cleared the room of
the enemy. The engineer-lieutenant locked the door, while Terence and
the others quickly bound von Eckenhardt with their handkerchiefs.
"Stand clear of the door," cautioned Gilroy. "Now that those fellows
have started to let off fireworks they might take it into their heads
to put a few pieces of nickel through the woodwork. Nixon, cut off as
hard as you can and bring up a file of Marines: be careful going
through the grounds. The whole place is a nest of Germans--beastly
cheek sheltering under good old Scots' names."
Gilroy's words, similar to those expressed by Chief Engineer McBride,
showed how deeply he, a thorough Scot, resented the colossal
impudence of the super-spy in assuming a respectable Highland
cognomen.
It was, indeed, a daring piece of work on the part of Karl von
Eckenhardt.
After his encounter with Terence on the cliffs at Yarmouth he had
succeeded in eluding the patrols and had taken refuge in London. Here
he lay low as a Russian subject. A fortnight later, by means of a
forged passport, he embarked at Shields upon a Swedish vessel bound
for Gottenberg. Thence he returned to his native country, where
during a period of activity at the German Admiralty he grew a full
beard. He was far too wily to adopt false hair as a disguise,
although he did not hesitate to dye his beard a ruddy tint.
Without difficulty, this time making use of an American passport and
registering as a citizen of New York, he returned to England by a
different route. After a short stay in Liverpool he went on to
Glasgow, whence he transmitted valuable information to Berlin as a
result of a casual acquaintanceship with an overseer of one of the
Clyde shipyards.
Gaining increased confidence his next move was to install himself in
the neighbourhood of Rosyth, in order to keep a watchful eye upon the
movements of the Grand Fleet. Plentifully supplied with money, he
assumed the honoured name of McNab, and completely deceiving a firm
of house agents, succeeded in getting the tenancy of Tuilabrail.
Then, having engaged servants who with few exceptions were German
secret agents domiciled long enough in Great Britain to disarm any
suspicion of their nationality, he proceeded to get in touch with
certain of the junior officers of the Fleet and some of the civil
officials of the new and important dockyard of Rosyth.
Fortune seemed to smile on his efforts. Acting as a friend in need to
a naval officer whose car had met with a breakdown, he found the
beginning of a chain of acquaintances. His hospitality became a
by-word amongst certain parties of naval men. He never asked
questions upon Service matters. He relied upon his sharp ears and
those of his minions to pick up useful information from the casual
conversations of his guests. Young officers were at times, he
reasoned, apt to forget the necessity for "official reticence and
reserve."
One of his duties was to send a report to Berlin of all changes in
the personnel of officers of the Fleet. This was a comparatively easy
matter, since most appointments were published in the Press.
Another was to notify movements of individual ships, both naval and
mercantile. This he did by means of a simple re-arrangement of the
International Code, the news being sent by a comparatively
low-powered wireless apparatus to a disguised trawler that was
cruising regularly off the tail of the Dogger.
Unfortunately for him, Sub-Lieutenant Aubyn's appointment to the
"Livingstone" did not appear in the papers; had it done so he would
have been put upon his guard. Cool and calculating as he generally
was, the suddenness with which he found himself confronted by Terence
momentarily took him off his guard. In spite of his disguise the sub.
recognized von Eckenhardt immediately.
It was an hour or more before Lieutenant Nixon returned, accompanied
by a party of Marine Light Infantry and a number of Metropolitan
police, who, amongst other duties, are entrusted with the guarding of
his Majesty's Naval and Military establishments.
Seeing that the game was up, von Eckenhardt gave in with a good
grace, boasting, however, that having done a great deal of work for
the Fatherland he was ready to pay the price, although it was a
misfortune that he had not been able to do all that he had hoped to
accomplish.
His assistants had already fled--one, out of perhaps half a dozen,
was arrested twenty-four hours later in a sailor's home at Leith; the
others got clear away. So hurried had been their departure that the
house was left untouched. A systematic search revealed the presence
of a secret wireless apparatus cunningly concealed in a bricked-up
chimney corner; while, amid the mass of documents impounded by the
police, experts discovered the system whereby von Eckenhardt was able
to communicate with the utmost freedom with the German Admiralty.
"A smart move, that of yours, Aubyn," commented Gilroy, as the
officers made their way back to the flotilla. "I really thought you
had gone off your head."
"It wouldn't be the first time people thought that," rejoined
Terence. "But I don't think we've done anything to brag about."
"What? Not laying that dangerous spy by the heels?" asked the
engineer-lieutenant in surprise.
"Perhaps," replied Gilroy, with a grim smile. "But the point is,
we've all been taken in by the rotter. Suppose at the court-martial
they inquired the reason why we went to Tuilabrail? We'll have to
admit that we were very nicely taken in, in more senses than one.
Then they'll make us sit up."
The "sitting up" part of the business began immediately upon their
return to their respective destroyers, for a signal was made by the
admiral cancelling all shore leave.
At four that same afternoon--being Saturday 23 January, 1915--orders
were received for the flotillas to weigh and proceed to a rendezvous
off the Isle of May.
Speculation was rife amongst officers and crew as to the significance
of this move. No one guessed what was taking place at Tuilabrail
House: that the secret wireless was being made use of to send grossly
misleading information to Berlin; and that the authorities had great
hopes that the German swift armoured cruisers would be lured into
making another raid on the supposedly defenceless East Coast.