THE HOAX
A thin grey mist lay upon the waters, giving the impression of a silvery
veil of gauze stretched from sea to sky. The evening was calm, with not
a breath of wind stirring, and the sea was ruffled by long, undulating
furrows that pursued their way across the surface like great ripples,
with never a "cat's paw" nor a speck of foam to break the monotony of
their green-grey hue.
Looking strangely impalpable and ghostlike by reason of the mist, the
destroyer _Knat_ slipped swiftly through the water, heaving gently to
the ground-swell. Upon the bridge Lieutenant-Commander Lawless stood
smoking a pipe, and near him Sub-Lieutenant Trent reclined against the
searchlight, likewise absorbing tobacco smoke and ozone. No other vessel
was in sight and the only sound to be heard was the soft whirr of the
turbines.
"This is what I call balmy and peaceful," remarked Lawless, taking the
pipe from his mouth and knocking it against the handrail. "One could
almost sing 'A Life on the Ocean Wave.'"
"Huh!" grunted Trent; "then it would be balmy without being peaceful."
As Lawless made no reply, he looked up to see the Lieutenant staring
hard through the mist at a vague, shapeless something which might have
been a ship, or a cliff, viewed through the murky atmosphere.
"Something ahead of us on the starboard bow," he said.
Both officers riveted their gaze upon the nebulous object which, as the
destroyer overhauled it, assumed the shape and appearance of a large
steamer, while their ears caught the steady throb of engines.
"I'll give her a hail," said Lawless, picking up the megaphone.
But before he had time to raise it to his mouth the fog was split by a
yellow streak of fire and a shell came whizzing over the _Knat's_ bows.
"By the Lord, an enemy ship!" ejaculated the Lieutenant, and passed the
word to open fire with the machine guns. The quick-firer just below the
bridge led off, but before the other guns had a chance to follow suit a
heavy bank of fog rolled up and obliterated the steamer as completely as
though a curtain had been lowered. Although invisible, the vessel's
engines could still be heard and, guided by the sound, the _Knat_ was
kept on her trail, Lawless waiting only for the fog to lift in order to
open fire again. While he was still expecting this to happen there came
the notes of a bugle and at the sound the Lieutenant nearly tumbled down
the bridge ladder in astonishment. For it was the dinner call as given
on British ships:
"Officers' wives eat puddings and pies,
But soldiers' wives eat skilly."
"What the dickens does it mean?" he murmured, and then, raising his
voice, hailed the mysterious steamer.
"Ahoy there, ahoy! Where away?" came the answer.
"On your port quarter."
"What ship is that?"
"British destroyer, _Knat_."
The fog lifted again, and this time Lawless could see the decks thronged
with anxious passengers and the captain leaning over the port
bridge-rail.
"What ship are you?" he shouted.
"The _Cotswold_, for Hull. Just sighted an enemy submarine and opened
fire on her," came the answer.
"A submarine! How long ago?"
"About ten minutes. She was using her machine-gun."
"Why don't you provide your look-outs with spectacles?" answered Lawless
wrathfully. "It was me you sighted, not a submarine!"
"I saw her periscope," answered the skipper of the _Cotswold_.
"Saw your grandmother! You opened fire on me and I replied."
"Then it was your business to hail me. Pity you haven't something better
to do than take pot shots at passenger boats," answered the merchant
skipper with some heat.
The latter was obviously in the wrong, but, as a matter of fact, during
his voyage across the Atlantic he had been chased by two enemy
submarines and only by skilful seamanship and unceasing vigilance had
succeeded in eluding them and saving his ship. He was, therefore, a
trifle "nervy" and apt to suspect every indistinguishable floating
object he met of being a submarine. Possibly, seen dimly through the
fog, the _Knat_ looked something like a submarine awash and the captain
of the _Cotswold_ had been justified in opening fire on her. Lawless,
however, was ignorant of this, and the skipper's last taunt made him
almost dance with rage. Fortunately, perhaps, another fog bank rolled up
at this moment and the two vessels were again hidden from each other.
For some moments Lawless growled to himself things which, had the
captain of the _Cotswold_ heard them, might have produced a resumption
of hostilities. Suddenly he gave vent to an exclamation:
"I've got it!"
"Got what?" inquired Trent.
"An idea."
"Extraordinary phenomenon; I'll have to make a note of it in the log.
'Seven p.m. Commanding Officer seized----'"
"Don't try and be funny, it's too pathetic. What I'm going to do is to
give that skipper the biggest shaking up he's ever had. If I don't get
even with him you can call me Von Tirpitz and I'll turn the other
cheek."
"It sounds exciting."
"You'll see," answered Lawless, and, leaving Trent in charge of the
bridge, he disappeared down the companion ladder.
A few minutes later a sound of hammering reached the Sub-Lieutenant's
ears, and this went on, at intervals, for nearly a quarter of an hour.
Presently Lawless emerged upon the after-deck, followed by two seamen
carrying a barrel with what looked like a piece of stove-pipe protruding
from it.
"There," said Lawless, mounting the bridge again. "Isn't it a daisy?"
"What is it--a patent incubator?" inquired Trent.
"Pah! You've no imagination. That, my son, is an _idea_."
"H'm! I always thought your ideas were pretty heavy, but----"
"Shut up or I'll report you for insubordination."
"Sorry, but I don't quite follow the drift of this ponderous idea of
yours."
"That's because yours is a stodgy, matter-of-fact, unromantic mind. But
listen and I'll expound in words suitable to your infantine
understanding. In the first place, I must tell you that one end of that
barrel is weighted in such a manner that, when submerged in a suitable
fluid, such as sea-water, it will float just below the surface.
Secondly," continued Lawless, in the manner of one giving a lecture, "I
would call your attention to a cylindrical object which, viewed at close
range, somewhat resembles a drain-pipe. Nevertheless, my child, it is
not a drain-pipe, but an invention of mine own constructed by the worthy
artificer, yclept Bates. Lastly, a thin line of about six fathoms
length, to the end of which is suspended a goodly lump of lead, is
attached to the side of the said barrel."
Lawless stopped and waited for the applause.
"A very pretty conjuring trick," remarked Trent, as one humouring an
amiable lunatic. "And what do you do now? Make it disappear up your
sleeve or change it into a live rabbit?"
"Oh, you blithering ass!" exclaimed the Lieutenant impatiently. "Can't
you see? This is the means I've devised for revenging myself on that
wretched skipper."
"You're going to fill it with dynamite and explode it under his stern?"
"No, my child, I'm not. Instead, I'm going to fix that line to the
stanchions against his rudder-post so that the steamer will tow this
barrel, which, being weighted, will be submerged and show only the pipe
in a vertical position above the surface. Furthermore, the worthy Bates
having fashioned the top thereof in the likeness of a periscope, the
victim will think he's being chased by an enemy submarine and have
divers fits and spasms in consequence. Do you grasp the idea _now_?"
"It's pretty feeble, but I think I follow you," answered Trent. "Only
you seem to have forgotten one thing, which is that as soon as the fog
lifts and the skipper spots your barrel he'll pot it with his
quick-firer. Then we shall read a hair-raising account of how the
captain of the _Cotswold_ sank a _U_ boat which had been following her
all night."
"Not a bit of it, my son. They won't be able to hit that barrel in a
month of Sundays, especially if we get a choppy sea by the morning."
Trent shrugged his shoulders, but made no further comment.
"And now," went on Lawless cheerfully, "it's time the plot thickened, so
we'll proceed to drop the bean in the soup. Stand by the telegraph, for
if we run our nose against the other fellow's counter the joke'll be on
us."
He leant over the bridge-rail and peered through the fog for the
steamer, but, though he could hear the latter's engines, the vessel
herself was invisible. The manoeuvre he proposed carrying out was, to
put it mildly, risky, and no one but the feckless Lieutenant would have
contemplated such a thing, much less have attempted to put it into
execution. But no fear of possible consequences ruffled his serenity as,
little by little, the _Knat_ cautiously overhauled the _Cotswold_, the
noise of whose machinery completely drowned the hum of the destroyer's
turbines.
Some ten minutes elapsed, and then Lawless was able to make out the
vessel's stern towering, dim and shadowy, above him. Then, taking the
wheel from the hands of the quartermaster, he brought the _Knat's_ bows
right under the steamer's counter.
"Let her go," he said in a hoarse whisper.
The bos'n, who was balancing himself on the companion-ladder, sprang to
the deck and, picking up the line attached to the barrel, ran with it on
to the fo'c'sle head. Leaning as far over as he could he pitched the
lump of lead, to which the other end of the line was fastened, against
the _Cotswold's_ stern-post in such a manner that it would fall over one
of the iron supports extending from beneath the counter to the
rudder-post. There was, of course, the danger of its being caught in the
propellers, but he had to risk that. As it happened, the cast was
successful, whereupon the bos'n called softly to a sailor, who at once
flung the barrel into the sea, together with the slack line.
"All clear, sir," the bos'n reported to Lawless.
The latter rang down "half-speed astern," the _Knat_ backed away into
the fog, and the steamer was blotted out.
"There," murmured the Lieutenant, with a sigh of satisfaction, "when the
skipper spots that in his wake he'll have about fifty fits right away.
Now we'd better try and get back on our beat."
The _Knat_ was supposed to be searching a certain prescribed area for an
enemy mine-sower which had been active for several days past in this
particular portion of the North Sea. Lawless, so far, had not had any
luck; a fact which made him all the keener to meet with the enemy ship
before she succeeded in getting safely back to port.
"I'm going below for a spell," he said to Trent. "Call me if anything
happens."
About a couple of hours later, the Lieutenant was awakened by a
bridge-messenger, who told him the fog was lifting and that a vessel had
just been sighted.
"Looks to be the packet we picked up a little while back, sir," he said.
Lawless proceeded to the bridge and, catching sight of the steamer
dimly visible ahead, chuckled softly.
"The fun'll start before long," he remarked to Trent. "Oh, to see the
old man's face when the officer of the watch reports a submarine
astern!"
"I've calculated that your precious joke's taken us about four miles out
of our course," answered the junior officer gloomily.
"You'll meet with an early death, like all good young people, if you're
not careful," retorted Lawless. "Virtue has its disadvantages remember."
A mild breeze had sprung up and was dissipating the fog rapidly while
churning the water into cat's paws. Presently Trent, who had been
watching the steamer through the night glasses, thrust them into the
Lieutenant's hands.
"Take a squint at that packet," he said in a tone of suppressed
excitement.
Lawless did so, and remained staring at the vessel ahead for such a long
time that Trent became impatient.
"Well, what do you make of her?" he asked.
"She's not the _Cotswold_."
"No; and why is she steaming without lights?"
"We'll soon see," answered Lawless, and rang down full speed ahead.
In a few minutes the destroyer was broadside on to the strange vessel
and Lawless shouted a demand to know what ship she was. A pause ensued,
and then, by way of an answer, a tongue of flame leapt from the
stranger's port side and a shell crashed into the _Knat's_ funnel, just
abaft the bridge. In a second the destroyer had swung round so as to
present only her bows to the enemy and her machine-guns were hammering
away as fast as they could be loaded. The duel lasted nearly ten
minutes, the _Knat_ trying to manoeuvre into such a position that she
could torpedo her adversary, the latter doing her utmost to frustrate
this design. And all this time the two vessels were pounding away at
each other with their machine-guns, circling around like two wrestlers
before they come to grips. The enemy had the advantage in guns, which
were far heavier than those carried by the destroyer, but the latter
made up for this in speed and, being so small, proved an extraordinarily
difficult target to hit.
At last Lawless saw his chance to launch a torpedo and gave the word.
The glistening, fish-like weapon leapt from its tube and, at the same
moment, the enemy vessel started to swing round in order to avoid the
fast approaching engine of death. But the manoeuvre had been carried
out too late; the torpedo struck her just underneath the stern and there
was a terrific explosion. The steamer heeled over on her starboard
side, her bows lifted above the water, and then, with a roar of
escaping steam, she dived stern foremost beneath the surface, and so to
the bottom, fifty fathoms deep or more.
The _Knat's_ boats had been launched immediately after the mine-sower
was struck, and they at once proceeded to the spot where she had
disappeared. But so swift had been the steamer's fate that not more than
half a dozen survivors were picked up and, after pulling around for a
while, the boats returned to the _Knat_.
Early in the afternoon of the following day the _Knat_ put into Hull,
and Lawless, having handed over his prisoners and written an official
report of the engagement, went ashore with Trent.
"By the way," said the latter, as they made their way towards a certain
hostelry much favoured by naval and merchant service officers, "did you
notice the _Cotswold_ moored just off the landing stage?"
"No, I was below making out my report."
His face expanded into a broad grin.
"Then the chances are ten to one that we meet her skipper before the
day's out. And if I don't pull his blessed leg you can strafe me for a
Hun."
As it happened they did meet this particular skipper, and in the very
hostelry to which they were bound. He was in the smoking-room and, of
course, did not recognise Lawless when he and Trent entered because, on
the occasion of their exchanging courtesies, it had been too dark and
foggy for either of them to identify the other. The Lieutenant, however,
knew him at once by his voice, which was of a peculiarly hoarse quality.
"It's a fact," he was saying to a small group of interested auditors,
"that infernal _U_ boat was no farther from my stern than I am from that
piano yonder. Well, I started steering a zig-zag course, at the same
time opening fire on the submarine with my machine-gun. One of the first
shots knocked her periscope to smithereens and then----"
He was interrupted by a burst of laughter, and, turning round, the
narrator of this thrilling episode beheld a couple of officers almost
doubled up with mirth.
"Oh, tell us some more, skipper!" cried Lawless, as soon as he could
speak.
"I beg your pardon, sir," said the other, his face scarlet with
indignation.
"Then we'll say no more about it," answered the Lieutenant. "But surely
you remember me? We met in the fog last night."
"What! Are you the blackguard who fired on me?"
"Well, you started shooting first, remember. But about that submarine
yarn of yours, it's such a good one that I really haven't the heart to
spoil it; so, if you'll stand drinks round, mum's the word as far as I'm
concerned."
"Will you be good enough to tell me what the devil you're driving at?"
inquired the skipper, glaring fiercely at Lawless.
"Then you won't accept my offer?"
"Sir, I'll see you in Hades first."
"Very well then, here goes," and Lawless proceeded to recount the trick
he had played on the skipper with the aid of a barrel and a tin
cylinder. He was interrupted several times by bursts of uproarious mirth
from the audience, but the victim himself neither smiled nor uttered a
word until the Lieutenant had finished his story.
Then he spoke.
"So you claim that I haven't sunk an enemy submarine at all?" he asked,
turning to Lawless.
"I'll wager a month's salary to a pinch of snuff that you never even saw
one from the time we parted till you reached port."
"I accept the wager," answered the skipper, to everybody's surprise.
"You see," he went on, addressing the company generally, "one reason why
I collared that _U_ boat so easily was that something fouled her
propeller and she could neither get away nor attack me. This morning,
when we put in here, the bos'n found a length of rope with a piece of
lead attached, fastened to the vessel's stern. How the deuce it got
there we couldn't make out, but now, thanks to this gentleman, we know.
What's more, it must have been that rope and the old barrel at the end
of it which fouled the German's propeller and did him in. As for
proof"--he turned to an elderly gentleman seated in a corner--"there is
Captain Barter, who took charge of the prisoners when they were landed,
and he can tell you whether my story's true or not."
All eyes were turned inquiringly upon the unobtrusive gentleman with the
four gold rings round his sleeves.
"Yes," he said quietly, "it's perfectly true. The three German officers
of the submarine are now on their way to Donnington Hall and the men are
in the temporary prison hulk moored up the river."
Before he returned to the _Knat_ Lawless gloomily wrote a "chit" wherein
he assigned to the skipper of the _Cotswold_ his entire salary for the
ensuing month.