VON LORINGHOVEN LEARNS NEWS
AT a quarter to six Ober-Leutnant Otto von Loringhoven strolled into
the lounge of the Imperial Hotel and, ringing for the waiter, booked
two seats at a table for dinner. This done he carefully selected a
choice cigar and ensconced himself in a large easy-chair. Ostensibly
interested in the pages of a newspaper he was furtively taking stock
of the other occupants of the lounge.
Von Loringhoven had had a really enjoyable day. He had done his
level best to banish from his mind all thoughts of his dangerous and
degraded profession. He appreciated the short respite from the
mental and physical strain of commanding a U-boat. Until the evening
he would take a well-earned holiday.
Accordingly he had made a few purchases in the little town of
articles that were not readily obtainable by the simple expedient of
looting a captured merchantman. Then, in possession of a small flask
and a packet of sandwiches, he struck inland towards the wild and
unfrequented moors.
Once or twice during the day he thought of von Gobendorff, and
wondered whether his attempt had met with success. Not that he
evinced any great concern over the business. The spy had not taken
him into his confidence sufficiently to explain the details of his
proposed attempt upon the troop train. There was once the haunting
suspicion that should von Gobendorff be caught the consequences
might be rather awkward for the ober-leutnant. Von Loringhoven had
little faith in his fellow-countrymen; he would not be greatly
surprised if the spy, in an endeavour to mitigate his deserved
punishment, would give information to the British authorities to the
effect that a German submarine commander was at large on Cornish
soil.
Early in the afternoon von Loringhoven began to make his way back to
the town. Taking a footpath he passed close to half a dozen German
prisoners-of-war engaged in agricultural work.
In broken German he addressed one of them, inquiring whether the
fellow would take the opportunity of escaping should such a chance
occur. The broad-shouldered Bavarian shook his head emphatically.
"No," he replied. "Why should I? We are well fed. After eighteen
months on scanty rations in the hell of Ypres a man would be a fool
to wish to go back over there."
The ober-leutnant resumed his walk, pondering over his compatriot's
words. There were evidences in plenty that the German theory, that
six months of unrestricted U-boat warfare would bring England to the
verge of starvation, was very wide of the mark; and the prisoner's
tacit assertion that he preferred to live and eat in England to
fighting and semi-starvation for the sake of the Fatherland was
striking evidence that the German submarine campaign was a failure
in spite of its unprecedented savagery and frightfulness.
Before proceeding to the hotel von Loringhoven bought a paper. If he
bought it with the idea of gleaning any important information he was
grievously mistaken. The war news was confined to a few brief
communiqués. The rest of the columns were taken up with local and
county topics unconnected with the war, a number of advertisements,
and a few carefully worded announcements of deaths in action of
Cornishmen.
Long before the ober-leutnant had finished his cigar a
fresh-complexioned, round-faced subaltern entered the room and,
spotting a brother officer, began a conversation in tones loud
enough to enable von Loringhoven to follow every word.
"I say," he remarked. "Have you heard anything about the attempt to
blow up Poldene Bridge?"
"My sergeant said something to me about it," replied the other. "I
didn't pay much attention to him, as he's a regular old woman for
getting hold of cock-and-bull yarns."
"It's right enough," persisted the first speaker. "There was an
explosion while the Navy Special was hung up on the bridge. Signals
tampered with, I understand. No damage done, but evidently the
fellow or fellows on the job knew what they were about, for a troop
train filled with Yankees was due to cross almost at the same time.
It's a mystery to me how these Huns get to know of the movements of
transport and troop trains. All the week American transports are to
be diverted from Liverpool to Trecurnow, as those rotten U-boats
have been reported in force off the Antrim coast."
After talking on several other subjects one of the subalterns
inquired, "Heard anything of your young brother recently? Dick, I
mean. He was in the 'Calyranda' when she struck a mine, I believe?"
"Yes, he's appointed to the 'Tantalus.' She's leaving Trecurnow on
Thursday for Hampton Roads."
"Escorting duties?"
"On the return voyage--yes. Outward bound they're taking a number of
big pots to attend an Allied conference at Washington, I understand.
At any rate, young Dick has to get a new mess-jacket. Thought he'd
be able to do without that luxury until after the war. ...Oh, by the
way, here's news. I was lunching yesterday with my cousin--you know,
the lieutenant-colonel who won the D.S.O.--and he happened to
mention----"
Von Loringhoven listened intently, smiling grimly behind his
newspaper. From the tittle-tattle of a raw subaltern he was gleaning
more intelligence than he could from a dozen journals, for the
youngster seemed to take a special delight in letting the other
guests know that he was in close touch with the Powers that Be.
From time to time the ober-leutnant glanced at the clock. It was now
twenty minutes to seven. Von Gobendorff was considerably overdue,
and von Loringhoven was feeling hungry.
"My friend is apparently unable to be present," he said to the head
waiter. "You can serve me now. I suppose as a dinner for two has
been ordered I must pay for both?"
"That is the rule of the hotel, sir," replied the man.
"And in that case I presume I can have a double allowance?"
The waiter shook his head and winked solemnly.
"Can't be done, sir," he replied. "'Gainst regulations. You'll pay
for two dinners, I admit, sir; that's your misfortune."
"Then I suppose the extra meal will be wasted?"
"A drop in the ocean of waste, sir, I assure you," said the man
confidentially. "Tons of waste down this part of the country. Take
petrol, for example. I've a motor-bike of my own and can't use it,
although half a gallon of petrol a week would be as much as I want.
And yet the coastguards, when hundreds of cans were washed ashore
along the coast, were told to wrench off the brass caps of the
tins--useful for munitions, I suppose, sir--and chuck petrol and
cans back into the sea. And I paid my licence to the end of the
year."
"Hard lines," remarked the ober-leutnant. "But the nation's at war,
you know."
"Quite true, sir," replied the man. "I wouldn't mind making
sacrifices if I knew all the petrol was going to naval and military
use--tanks and patrol boats and the like--but waste like I've been
telling you makes me a bit up the pole. Ah, sir, you needn't worry
about that second dinner, for here's Mr. Middlecrease."
The waiter hurried off, while von Gobendorff, well-groomed and
debonair, greeted the ober-leutnant.
"Sorry I'm so infernally late, Smith," he exclaimed. "Must blame the
trains. Missed my connection at Okehampton, don't you know."
The two Germans sat down to their belated meal, talking the while on
commonplace topics.
They certainly made a _faux pas_ in the way they gulped down their
soup, but the rest of the diners, although they exchanged
sympathetic glances, had never had the misfortune to visit German
"bads" in pre-war days; otherwise they might have "smelt a rat."
Von Loringhoven paid the bill and carefully placed the receipt in
his pocket-book. "It will be a souvenir of a pleasant evening," he
remarked to his companion. "A certificate to the effect that I have
invaded England, _hein?_"
It was close on nine o'clock when von Loringhoven accompanied the
spy to his home. Once in von Gobendorff's study, with a thick
curtain drawn over the door, the latter unburdened himself.
"_Ach!_" he exclaimed, stretching his limbs and yawning
prodigiously; "I have had a nasty time, Otto. Often I thought I
would have to forego this pleasurable evening in exchange for a
prison cell."
"You bungled, then?"
"Perhaps. It was hardly my fault. I am inclined to blame Schranz. I
deposited the explosive all right, but the signal did not fall
within the prearranged limit. Consequently I had either to make a
bolt for safety or stay where I was and get blown up. I chose the
first alternative."
"And the explosion?"
"It came off," replied the spy. "Somehow the bridge was not
destroyed. Why I know not. Then I was hotly pursued. That fool of a
dog--I had taken the precaution of having one sent from
London--nearly put me away, but just as I had given myself up as
lost the men in pursuit were recalled. Then at the first opportunity
I discarded my disguise--I was wearing two suits of clothes: a good
tip, Otto, unless you happen to be wearing a military or naval
uniform under your civilian's dress. _Himmel!_ it was decidedly
unpleasant in those saturated clothes, for I had been standing up to
my neck in water for nearly twenty minutes."
"It was a wonder that your wet clothes did not give you away,"
remarked von Loringhoven.
"They certainly gave me a cold," admitted the spy, suppressing a
sneeze. "You should have seen me, Otto, stripped to the skin in a
secluded hollow, and wringing out my garments one by one. It was a
chilly business donning the damp things, but I walked briskly over
the moors until the wind dried them to a state of comparative
respectability. Then I struck the high road towards Poldene station.
There were patrols and police out, but they never suspected me, as I
was proceeding _towards_ the scene of my frustrated attempt. And
here I am. Well, have you picked up any information?"
The ober-leutnant shook his head. He was too wily a bird to impart
an important piece of news even to a compatriot, so the matter of
the date of departure of the "Tantalus" was withheld.
"No," he replied. "I have been having a rest, that is all. I go back
to my work with renewed zest. I drink, von Gobendorff, to the
confusion of England. _Hoch, hoch, hoch!_"
At half-past ten the ober-leutnant left the house, declining the
spy's offer to accompany him part of the way. Without encountering a
single person, for he knew the actual times at which the cliff
patrol passed, he gained the little cove. By the luminous hands of
his watch he had nearly an hour to wait, and waiting in the
darkness, with only the sullen thresh of the surf and the eerie
cries of innumerable seabirds to break the silence, was tedious,
especially as he dared not smoke.
Presently, above the noise of nature's handiwork, came the bass hum
of an aerial propeller. The ober-leutnant gazed upwards between the
narrow walls of the rocky inlet.
"Too slow for a seaplane or a flying-boat," he muttered. "It must be
one of those infernal coastal airships. _Himmel!_ I hope she hasn't
any suspicions of U 254 lying off the shore. I've waited quite long
enough to my liking. _Ach_, there she is. I thought so."
At an altitude of less than two hundred feet above the summit of the
cliffs the "Blimp" glided serenely, the suspended chassis being
invisible against the greater bulk of the grey envelope that showed
darkly against the starlit sky.
The airship was flying against the wind, and was proceeding at a
rate not exceeding fifteen miles an hour "over the ground"--the
ground in this instance being the sea. At that comparatively slow
speed she appeared to the watcher in the depths of the cove to be
almost stationary, and the sight filled him with misgivings.
Suddenly a searchlight flashed from the vigilant guardian of the
coast, stabbing the darkness with a broad blade of silvery radiance.
Instinctively von Loringhoven averted his face. He could see the
grotesquely foreshortened shadow of himself cast upon the rocks. He
wondered whether an alert observer had him "fixed" with his powerful
night-glasses. He was afraid to move lest his action would satisfy
any lurking doubt in the mind of the watchers above. Supposing the
Blimp sent a signal to the nearest coastguard station, reporting a
suspicious character in the cove?
All these thoughts flashed through the ober-leutnant's brain in less
than twenty seconds. Then the penetrating beam swung like a giant
pendulum, sweeping every square yard of sea within an arc of two
miles' radius.
The ray ceased its movements and was directed upon a dark object
lying at a distance of less than five cables' lengths from the
shore. Von Loringhoven's breath came in short gasps. Momentarily he
expected to see the flash of a gun or hear the sharp explosion of
compressed air that would send an aerial torpedo on its
death-dealing errand.
By degrees the ober-leutnant's eyes grew accustomed to the glare,
and he made the discovery that the object was a two-masted
fishingboat that, having been unable to reach harbour before
"official sunset," was endeavouring to make port and risk divers
pains and penalties for being under way during prohibited hours.
Down swept the airship, her searchlight relentlessly focussed upon
the delinquent, until the officer in charge of the Blimp was able to
discover the registered number of the boat and shout by means of a
megaphone a promise that the master of the fishing-boat would be
"hauled over the coals" at no very distant date.
This duty performed the airship rose and, turning, travelled "down
wind" at high speed, whereat von Loringhoven heaved a deep sigh of
genuine relief.
The hour of midnight passed and the ober-leutnant still waited. He
was beginning to think that he was marooned on hostile ground and
that the submarine had met with misfortune, when a dark shape glided
round the rocks at the entrance to the cove.
"You are late!" exclaimed von Loringhoven hastily, as the coxswain
of U 254's canvas boat brought the frail cockleshell alongside the
rough jetty.
"It was a cursed English airship that detained us, Herr Kapitan,"
replied the man. "We had to submerge. We thought we were detected;
only, it seems, it was a fishing craft that occupied the airship's
attention."
Not another word did von Loringhoven speak until he gained the
U-boat's deck.
"How stand the accumulators, Herr Kuhlberg; and what petrol have we
on board?"
The unter-leutnant gave the required information.
"Just enough to take us home, Herr Kapitan," he added tentatively,
for the prolonged cruise--already U 254's time limit was
exceeded--was jarring his nerves very badly.
"Perhaps," rejoined von Loringhoven, with a sneer. "Meanwhile we are
going to lie off the Scillies until the end of the week, so
reconcile yourself to that, my friend."
"You have heard something, then, Herr Kapitan?" asked the
unter-leutnant eagerly, his despondency departing at the prospect of
doing a great deed--torpedoing a huge unarmed liner, perhaps.
"I have," replied von Loringhoven. "The English cruiser 'Tantalus'
leaves Trecurnow on Thursday with a number of delegates for a
conference at New York. The 'Tantalus' is, of course, armed, and, as
you know, English gunners shoot straight. How does that suit you?"
Hans Kuhlberg's attempt to put a brave face upon the matter was a
failure. His superior officer smiled disdainfully, for there was no
love lost between the two.
"I am going to turn in now," he added. "You know the course; keep
her at that until you sight Godrevy Light and then inform me."