THE DECOY
Whether it was due to the fact that, in addition to having smashed up
two monoplanes, Lawless had lost the new seaplane which he had been
ordered to test, was never made clear to him, but certain it is that,
soon after the latter incident, his request to be transferred back to
the Sea Service was granted. That was why, in accordance with his
instructions, he found himself at Devonport awaiting orders. In due
course these arrived, and were to the effect that he must report himself
on board the patrol boat _O47_, at Falmouth, where he would enjoy
temporary rank as Lieutenant.
"Holy smoke!" ejaculated Lawless when he received the order, "this takes
me down a peg. Why, I was Lieutenant-Commander----"
"Don't worry," interposed the Port Admiral encouragingly. "You'll be
back where you started from before long. I'll do my best to get you your
old ship, the _Knat_."
"Thank you, sir," answered Lawless gratefully.
On arriving at Falmouth he found the _O47_ a grimy, unpicturesque, and
weather-beaten trawler, whose prescribed beat, he was informed, lay
"somewhere" west of Start Point. The skipper, a gruff, taciturn old
salt, received him without enthusiasm, and grumbled audibly at having to
"dry-nurse green-horns." Obviously he had never heard of the
Lieutenant's exploits when in command of the _Knat_, and Lawless was
careful not to undeceive him.
"I'll have a lark with the old buffer," he told himself, and felt so
pleased at this idea that he forgot his indignation at having been
assigned to such a wretched old tub and with inferior rank.
The _O47_ left Falmouth Harbour on the following morning, and was soon
stubbing her way westward, rolling as only a North Sea trawler can roll.
There was a stiff, sou'-westerly breeze blowing, and as the day waned it
showed signs of developing into a first-class hurricane. The sea, which
had been merely choppy to begin with, had risen until the great
foam-crested billows charged down upon each other, flinging high their
white manes of wind-driven spume. The sky had turned from blue to a
cold, steely grey, with low-lying clouds like banks of soiled snow on
the western horizon. A pale crescent moon already showed dimly in the
half-light.
In the little wheelhouse, perched high up in front of the funnel,
Skipper Chard clung to a handrail and peered through the rime-frosted
glass across the endless grey vista of tossing, white-capped seas.
Chard growled as the trawler, struck amidships by an extra large wave,
heeled till her port taffrail was under water.
When she had righted herself, Lawless, clad in oilskins and a
sou'-wester, swarmed up the little iron ladder to the wheelhouse, and,
waiting a favourable opportunity, opened the door and staggered in.
"Phew!" he ejaculated. "This is weather and no mistake!"
"Weather!" echoed the skipper with a sour smile. "Wait till we get it
really rough!"
The quartermaster at the wheel suppressed a smile, while the Lieutenant
did his best to look apprehensive.
"I thought this was pretty rough," he said apologetically.
"Oh, it's a bit choppy, I'll allow. But rough----" The skipper smiled a
smile, more eloquent than words, that expressed all the scorn which a
seasoned salt feels for a greenhorn who has still to learn the ways of
the sea.
"It'll be my watch in five minutes," said Lawless. "I expect you will be
glad to go below."
The skipper grunted. No one but a raw amateur would have turned out for
his watch before being called; it was the brand of inexperience.
"Keep her as near west by south as may be," said the skipper, jerking
his head towards the binnacle. "Send for me if you sight anything."
While he was speaking, eight bells struck, and as the sound died away a
seaman came up the iron ladder to relieve the quartermaster at the
wheel. As the off-duty man stumbled out of the wheelhouse, the skipper
also turned to leave.
"You'll need to keep a bright look-out," he remarked grimly. "As like as
not----"
He paused abruptly, then snatched a pair of binoculars out of the box
attached to the handrail, and focused them on a small object, barely
discernible to the naked eye. He remained thus for more than a minute,
with legs stretched wide apart, swinging back and forth automatically
with the motion of the vessel.
"Have a squint," and he handed the glasses to the Lieutenant.
The latter focused the binoculars on the strange vessel ahead. She was a
steamer of about fifteen hundred tons, with the word _Gelderland_
painted in huge white letters on her hull amidships, together with the
Dutch colours.
"A Dutchman," he observed, handing back the glasses.
"A private of marines could tell that," snorted the skipper. "Question
is, what's she doing right away west here?"
The Lieutenant made no answer; which was wise, since none was expected.
Chard shouted an order to the quartermaster, who echoed it, and began to
turn the heavy wheel.
"Signal the Dutchman to stop," commanded the skipper.
It being too dark to use flags or semaphore, Lawless picked up the
signal lamp and flashed the message across the intervening space. He
waited for an answer, and, none coming, called up once more.
"Can't get a reply," he said after the second attempt.
"I'll get one, though," muttered the skipper; and, sliding back one of
the windows, he leant out.
"Stubbs, put a shot across that hooker's bows!" he shouted.
"Aye, aye, sir!" answered the gunner, and bent over a small quick-firer
that was mounted on the well-deck forward.
Next moment there was a bright yellow flash and a reverberating boom.
The shell was seen to strike the water some twenty yards in front of the
Dutchman's bows, sending up a small pillar of foaming water. But the
stranger, instead of stopping, suddenly altered her course, and a cloud
of black smoke which began to pour out of her funnel showed that she was
firing up.
"All right!" ejaculated the skipper. "But we'll cop her yet. Looks
suspicious, her cuttin' away like that. Climb on the fo'c'sle and signal
that if she don't stop we'll sink her!"
Lawless descended the ladder, staggered across the slippery, reeling
deck, and mounted the fo'c'sle head. Crooking one arm round a stay to
steady himself, he jerked out the signal in a somewhat uneven succession
of dots and dashes. Still the stranger made no answering signal, and at
last he climbed down.
"Put a shot through her funnel!" yelled Chard.
The gunner breathed hard as he adjusted the sights and waited till the
_O47_ swung up for a second on an even keel.
Bang!
The shell sped true, for where the Dutchman's funnel had stood there was
now only a jagged stump of metal, with columns of smoke issuing out of
it. Also her captain had seen fit to slow down at last.
"Mr. Lawless, I'm going alongside," shouted the skipper from the
wheelhouse. "Serve out cutlasses and revolvers, in case the Dutchmen
start to play monkey-tricks."
The Lieutenant served out the weapons, after which he climbed on the
fo'c'sle head to help bring the trawler alongside her quarry. It needed
no little skill and judgment to accomplish this in such weather and with
darkness coming on.
The high bows of the _O47_, towering above the low decks of the
_Gelderland_ as the trawler came racing up, threatened to crash right
into the Dutchman and cut her in twain amidships, but the trawler's
engines were reversed in the nick of time, and her stern slewed round so
that the two vessels lay alongside each other.
Skipper Chard dropped on the _Gelderland's_ deck just as the Captain--a
short, stout man--came puffing down from his bridge in a violent temper.
"Vat for you do that?" he demanded, pointing to the smashed funnel.
"Why didn't you stop when I ordered you?"
"Because I saw not any signal. The first thing I know is--plump!--and
then vat you call the chiminey is proken."
"You mean to say you didn't know I sent a shot over your bows?" demanded
Chard incredulously.
"I see noddings," answered the Captain. "But you haff done big damages,
and I will make you pay."
"Oh! will you, my son?" replied the other. "We'll see about that, but
in the meantime I must see your papers."
The Captain promptly led the way to the chart-room and produced his
papers with an alacrity that was calculated to disarm the most
suspicious investigator. According to them, the _Gelderland_ had cleared
at Amsterdam for Boston with general cargo.
"H'm!" grunted Chard, as he looked at the papers. "How long have you
been coming up the Channel?"
"Four or five days. I was hung up by fog."
"Well, the sooner you get out of it the better," answered Chard, turning
to go. The ship's papers were in order, and therefore he had no right to
detain the vessel further. As he was about to pass through the door his
glance fell on a chart fastened to the table with drawing-pins. He
paused for a moment and bent over it.
"Here!" he said in a different tone. "Come here!"
His forefinger was resting on the apex formed by two diagonal lines
which had been ruled across the chart. This apex was just opposite Start
Point, and the lines formed two sides of a triangle--one running
parallel to the English coast as far as the Lizard, the other running
south-west to a point just north of Ushant.
"Vell?" inquired the Captain, but there was a slight tremor in his
voice.
"You'd better scuttle that Amsterdam yarn," replied Chard quietly. He
laid his finger once more on the chart. "If this means anything," he
went on, "it means that you've been cruising around between Start Point,
Ushant and the Lizard, and that the clearance papers you showed me are
just fakes. It's pretty certain that----No, you don't!" as the Captain
made a swift movement with his right hand. "Keep your eye on this, my
son," and Chard levelled an automatic pistol at the other's head.
Then, still covering the Captain with his pistol, he hailed the _O47_
through the open door of the chart-room.
"Mr. Lawless!"
"Aye, aye!" came the answer.
"Train the gun on this packet, and sweep her decks if the men show
trouble. Then lower a couple of boats and come aboard for prisoners."
The Lieutenant gave the necessary orders to the gunner, after which he
saw to the lowering of the boats. In the darkness and with a heavy sea
running this last was a difficult and dangerous task, but it was
accomplished safely. Meanwhile, Chard had insisted on some of the
hatches being removed from the _Gelderland's_ hold in order that he
might judge of the contents. They consisted chiefly of cases, crates and
barrels, some of which, on being opened, proved to contain earthenware.
"Vell, does that satisfy you?" asked the Captain triumphantly.
"Not by a damn sight," answered Chard bluntly. "There's a clear space at
the bottom of the hold. Open one of the cases down there."
The Captain protested, but the other was adamant, and eventually a
couple of men were despatched to carry out his demand. The first case
was opened, and found to be packed with cans of petrol. Chard smiled
grimly and ordered another to be opened; it contained a small
quick-firer in pieces.
"A proper little arsenal, this," remarked Chard, with a grin. "Let's try
another of your surprise packets."
A third case was broken open, displaying rows of neatly packed shells.
"I see; if any _U_ boat happened to have damaged a gun or run short of
ammunition, you can supply the goods," said Chard. "It's a fine idea."
The boats from the _O47_ had come alongside, and the Lieutenant swung
himself aboard. In a few words Chard explained the situation and told
him that, as soon as the prisoners had been put aboard the trawler, he
would be placed in charge of the _Gelderland_ with a prize crew. This
was carried out speedily, the Germans, as they really were, offering no
resistance in view of the fact that the trawler's gun was kept trained
on them all the time.
Half a dozen men from the _O47_ were placed on board the _Gelderland_ as
a prize crew, and Chard, before leaving, advised Lawless to make
straight for Plymouth. Then he returned to the trawler and the two
vessels slowly drew apart and were lost to each other in the darkness.
"Keep her nose to the west," Lawless told the quartermaster, and then
dived into the chart-room to lay out his course for Plymouth. This done,
he stepped out on to the bridge again and peered into the darkness. The
Eddystone Light was not visible yet, and he was about to return, when
there came a shout from the look-out on the fo'c'sle head.
"Light on the port bow, sir!"
The Lieutenant leaned over the bridge-rail and stared into the night,
but could see nothing. He was about to hail the look-out man, when he
saw a faint yellow glimmer appear for a second, and vanish, but this
time it was on the starboard side.
"Queer," he murmured.
He started towards the other end of the bridge, and accidentally knocked
his foot against something. Stooping down, he found it was a
signal-lamp, but different to the one he had been used to handling.
Thoughtlessly, he picked it up and tried the shutter; a beam of yellow
light flashed out and was gone. Then, as if in answer to it, the
mysterious light to starboard flicked twice and disappeared again.
"Oh-h!" murmured Lawless.
It had come upon him that the light was a signal from a submarine, and
that, in moving the shutter of the signal-lamp, he had unwittingly
answered it. Here, indeed, was a chance of recovering his reputation,
for there could be no doubt that the submarine was a _U_ boat. If only
it could be captured or sunk!
He crossed to the bridge telegraph and rang down "Stop!" to the
engine-room. The machinery ceased throbbing, and the _Gelderland_,
losing way, began to roll in a nasty fashion. Then, out of the darkness,
a voice hailed her in German. The Lieutenant shouted back some
meaningless gibberish, trusting to the wind to make his voice
indistinct. This done, he hurried on to the deck, flung a rope ladder
over the taffrail, and whispered some instructions to the bos'n.
Leaning over the bulwarks, he saw the shadowy outline of a large
submarine alongside, her deck awash, and with a man standing on the
hatch-cover, clinging to an inadequate handrail. The man flung out a
rope with a hook at the end, caught one of the rungs of the rope
ladder, and drew it towards him. Clutching it, he allowed himself to
swing off the hatch, and next moment was clambering over the bulwarks.
Then, as he reached the deck, a couple of seamen sprang out of the
shadows and bore him down before he could utter a cry.
"Well?" remarked the Lieutenant interrogatively, as the prisoner, with a
sailor on each side of him, stood in the Captain's cabin.
The man from the submarine growled something beneath his breath.
Evidently he had not yet recovered from his astonishment.
"Well?" repeated Lawless almost genially.
"This boat, is it not the _Gelderland_?" asked the prisoner in passable
English.
"It is."
"Then why----"
"Take him aft to the wheelhouse and lock him in," interrupted the
Lieutenant. The prisoner made an abrupt movement, which was checked at
sight of a revolver which one of the seamen was holding. Then he was
marched off.
It was not till then that Lawless realised the difficulties of the
situation. He had no gun mounted wherewith to sink the enemy submarine;
obviously he could not board her so that----
"I'll ram her!" he ejaculated aloud.
He returned to the bridge and saw that the huge whale-like form of the
_U_ boat was still alongside. Grabbing the telegraph, he rang down "Full
speed ahead!" and then, thrusting the quartermaster aside, took the
wheel and swung the vessel round so that she was bows-on to the
submarine. At the same moment the latter's hatch opened and a man
stepped out, evidently to try and find out what kept the other so long.
But before he could realise what was happening, the _Gelderland_ drove
right into the low-lying hull; there was a terrific shock, and, as the
steamer reeled under the force of the impact, a stifled cry from out of
the blackness--and then silence.
Considerably elated, Lawless picked up the Eddystone light about an hour
later. Then, having taken his bearings, he left Plymouth far away to
starboard and headed down Channel, while, in obedience to his
instructions, the quick-firer was taken out of the hold and mounted on
deck and the damaged funnel repaired.
He had been the recipient of a brilliant inspiration.
* * * * *
"The young fool's been and got himself torpedoed, that's what he's
done," said Skipper Chard in a tone of conviction.
He was seated with other patrol-boat skippers in the bar-parlour of a
certain hostelry, and the conversation had turned on the mysterious
disappearance of the _Gelderland_ with her prize crew. A full week had
elapsed since her capture by the _O47_, yet she had not been reported at
Plymouth or any of the other western seaports.
"Skipper Trevail do say he saw she west of Lizard," remarked an old
Cornishman.
Chard shook his head impatiently. He absolutely refused to credit the
strange stories which, during the last few days, had been rife in the
west. Patrol skippers had solemnly assured him that they had seen the
_Gelderland_ off the Cornish coast. One declared that, not knowing what
she was, he had boarded her and seen her captain, a young man who could
not speak a word of English; but, as her papers were in order, he had
let her proceed without troubling to search her cargo. As day after day
passed these stories were added to, or varied, until the _Gelderland_
began to be regarded as a phantom ship, and was spoken of, not without
awe, as the _Flying Dutchman_. The skipper of the _O47_ alone maintained
a sceptical attitude, and reiterated his belief that she had been either
torpedoed or mined.
At last the Admiralty, awaking to the fact that a captured ship had
disappeared, sent wireless instructions to the officers in command of
the patrols to make a systematic search for the vessel. And so, from
Start Point to the Lizard, cruiser, destroyer, and patrol-boat swept the
seas.
On the afternoon of the very day that these instructions were sent out,
Skipper Chard stood in the wheelhouse of the _O47_ and swept the horizon
with his glasses. Suddenly he uttered a cry, for just visible against
the skyline was the _Gelderland_.
"Whack her up all you can!" he yelled through the voice-pipe. "We've
sighted her!"
The engineer did his best, and the deck-plates of the _O47_ vibrated
with the ponderous thumping of the machinery below. Chard leaned out of
the wheelhouse with his binoculars glued to the missing prize, calling
down maledictions upon himself and all his kin if he failed to lay her
by the heels. But the _Gelderland_ was making off as fast as her engines
would carry her, and there ensued a long and stern chase which lasted
until the _O47_ was near enough to send a shot crashing through the
_Gelderland's_ chart-room. Then, and not till then, the _Gelderland_
hove to.
"You'll be hanged for this, you ravin' lunatic!" shouted Chard as he
boarded the recaptured prize; and then, as the Lieutenant, descending
from the bridge, smiled in a sickly sort of fashion, he added: "You've
been guilty of barratry, piracy, mutiny, and heaven knows what!"
Lawless was told to regard himself as a prisoner, and then the skipper,
pursuing his investigations, was amazed to find some score of Germans in
the hold, all of them belonging to the submarine service.
"Why--why, what the deuce does this mean?" he demanded.
"I had to sling some of the cargo overboard," answered the other
apologetically, "or there wouldn't have been room for these chaps."
"But how the blazes did they get here?"
Then Lawless related his adventures since the stormy night when he was
placed in charge of the _Gelderland_. He had argued that, if one enemy
submarine had been deceived by the supply vessel, others might also be
lured to destruction in the same way, and his argument had proved
correct.
"I suppose I've been guilty of disobedience," he concluded, "but I've
bagged four _U_ boats, ramming one and sinking three with the gun we
found in the hold. Most of the men in the submarines foundered with
them, but we've managed to save about twenty. At first I wondered how
they managed to identify the _Gelderland_ in the dark, but I tumbled to
it the first night. The masthead light, instead of being on the
foremast, was hung on the aftermast, and this, I suppose, was a
pre-arranged signal. At any rate, I didn't alter it, and the scheme
seemed to work."
"If you're not shot, you'll be made a blessed admiral!" the skipper
remarked.
The court-martial which followed absolved the Lieutenant from the formal
charges with which he had been indicted, and a few days later he was
informed that, the _Knat_ having arrived at Devonport, he was to return
to her with rank of Lieutenant-Commander. And that evening Lawless, in
the gladness of his heart, took from its case a battered banjo, and,
lifting up his voice in song, declared in inharmonious accents that
"Somewhere the sun is shining."