THE LAST VOYAGE OF S.S. "ANDROMEDA"
FOR nearly half a minute silence followed von Loringhoven's dramatic
assertion. Only the ticking of a clock over the oak mantelpiece
broke the stillness.
Then the commercial who had been reading the newspaper coughed
deprecatingly.
"We are too tough old birds to be caught with chaff, sir," he
remarked. "If you want cheap notoriety try the nearest constable."
His companions laughed at the apparent discomfiture of a man who had
attempted a hoax and had been detected.
"I was once in the company of a man who declared that he was
Clutterbung, the fraudulent lawyer for whose arrest a thousand
pounds reward was offered," observed one of the company. "On that
instance the fellow was a bit wrong under the thatch. Not that I
wish to insinuate anything, sir, but really your assertion is so
palpably improbable that I--or rather we--decline to be imposed
upon."
Von Loringhoven was breathing freely now. The crucial moment of the
ordeal was passed. By making a bold statement he had "drawn" the men
with whom he was in company.
"Must break the ice," he remarked pleasantly. "I've been sitting
here the greater part of the evening in icy isolation. Sorry the
Defence of the Realm Regulations will not permit me to stand
drinks."
For the next hour conversation proceeded briskly, the ober-leutnant
"pitching a yarn" of how he earned his gold stripes, giving
elaborate details with such fidelity that an old soldier might have
been deceived, let alone a group of commercials. In return they gave
him hints about the country around Hereford, and learning that he
was making his way there by road, considerately mapped out the best
route from Birmingham to the Welsh border.
Refreshed and with renewed confidence von Loringhoven left Selly Oak
early next morning, and riding steadily found himself at Gloucester
by noon.
About five miles beyond the city he halted at a small wayside inn,
where half a dozen yokels were exchanging mutual congratulations
upon their being able to obtain beer. Presently the countrymen left
to resume work, and von Loringhoven found himself in the sole
company of a short, thick-set man dressed in a blue serge coat and
trousers, a soiled peaked cap, and a muffler of doubtful colour
round his neck. From the fact that the bottoms of his trousers were
tucked into his grey woollen socks the ober-leutnant came to the
correct conclusion that the seafarer was the possessor of a bicycle
which von Loringhoven had observed leaning against the outside wall.
"Roads heavy, mate," remarked the man, wiping his lips with the back
of his hand.
"Fairish stiff," agreed the Hun.
The other, producing a plug of hard tobacco from his cap
deliberately cut off a few thick flakes and then handed the plug to
his companion.
Von Loringhoven accepted the gift. He realised that there might be
possibilities in engaging in conversation with the seaman.
"S'pose I'm out o' gear," continued the latter. "Ain't been riding
for over a twelvemonth. I'm deck-hand aboard the old 'Andromeda,'"
he added gratuitously, pronouncing the classical name with
tremendous accent upon the "me." "A swine of a tub she is; still we
diddled Old Fritz on the homeward run from Mobile."
"Oh," remarked the ober-leutnant. "How was that?"
"Well, it was like this. We were off the Fastnet, bound for the
Bristol Channel, when up pops a blank U-boat astern of us. Since we
could only do nine knots 'twasn't much good trying to foot it, so
our Old Man hoisted a bloomin' signal to some hooker what wasn't
anywhere abouts, up-helmed and makes straight for Old Fritz. Fritz
didn't like that 'ere signal, no more'n he liked the idea of our old
packet goin' for her, so he dives. Bless me if our Old Man didn't
keep cruisin' around for the best part of an hour, just to make
Fritz think as 'ow he was a patrol boat. Still he might have got us.
I've been torpedoed three times already."
"Then I should think you'd had enough of it," said von Loringhoven
tentatively.
"Me--not much," replied the man, bridling at the mere suggestion.
"It'll take more'n Old Fritz's tin-pot submarines to choke me off.
My old grandfather didn't used to be frightened at Boney's
privateers, an' he sailed from Bristol Town for more'n fifty years.
What's bred in the bone--you know, mate. An' I ain't the only one,
not by long chalks."
"Where are you bound this voyage?" asked the German.
"Dunno exactly," was the reply. "There was some talk of the
'Andromeda' making a run to Alexandra. Look 'ere, mate, you're axing
me a lot o' questions. 'Ow about yourself; wot are you doin'?"
"Me--I'm only a cast-off Tommy," replied von Loringhoven.
"Then you must a' been pretty badly knocked about," commented the
seaman, "or they wouldn't let you out of it."
"Still able to work, thank goodness," replied the ober-leutnant. He
saw possibilities in keeping up the conversation. "How about
it--shall we ride together as far as Bristol?"
For a few moments the man did not reply. He was draining his
tankard, and his range of vision was limited to about nine-tenths of
the interior surface of the metal mug, while his gullet was working
like a piston-rod.
"Right-o, mate," he replied at length. "I'm on it; only don't forget
I can't do more'n ten knots with a following wind."
During the remainder of the journey von Loringhoven made sure of his
ground, and came to the conclusion that it was safe to take this
newly found friend into his confidence--up to a certain point.
"What's the best way of getting out of the country?" he asked. "I'm
fed up with England. For all I know they may call me up for
re-examination and pack me off to the front again. Straight, I've
had enough. No chance of shipping on board the 'Andromeda,' I
suppose?"
"Might," replied the other. "But you ain't 'ad no experience, 'ave
yer?"
"I was in a small barquentine for a couple of voyages--ten years
ago," declared von Loringhoven with perfect truth. He had, like many
other German naval officers, taken on a job on a Baltic timber
vessel trading with various South of England ports--solely with the
idea of getting acquainted with certain British harbours in view of
the approach of The Day.
"No discharge papers, I suppose?" asked the seaman.
The ober-leutnant was obliged to confess that he had none.
"I can work it," continued his companion. "It'll cost you a couple
o' quid, an' I can put you on to a man who'll rig you out with slops
for the matter of another one-pound note. Can you rise to it?"
"I think so," replied von Loringhoven.
Three days later the s.s. "Andromeda," of 2,170 tons burthen, warped
out of Avonmouth dock on her voyage to Alexandria. Her cargo
consisted of military stores, her crew thirty-seven hands, including
Jimmy Marsh, alias Otto von Loringhoven.
The ober-leutnant had not the faintest desire to go as far as the
Mediterranean. He was firmly convinced that the tramp would be
captured by an Unterseeboot before she was well clear of the Bristol
Channel, in which case he would declare his identity to the
kapitan-leutnant of the U-boat and be taken on board the
representative substitute of the German High Seas Fleet.
Hour after hour, day after day, the eight-knotter steamed sedately
on her course, but not a single U-boat was to be seen. Off Cape de
Roca the "Andromeda" was ordered into harbour to ship mules for
Egypt, but Portuguese territory offered von Loringhoven no
inducement to desert. He might have made his way into Spain; but
then the fact still remained that hostile country separated him from
the Fatherland.
Off Gib. the tramp was received by British patrol boats and
shepherded through the U-boat infested Straits. One hundred and
fifty miles east of Algiers the condensers gave trouble, and the old
tramp had to be towed into Bona for repairs that took the best part
of six weeks.
Von Loringhoven stuck it gamely. He had no option. There was nothing
to entice him to desert in Algerian territory, while in order to
keep up his rôle he applied himself diligently to whatever task was
allotted him, hoping that in the Eastern Mediterranean, where German
and Austrian U-boats were showing great activity, the fate of the
"Andromeda" would be sealed.
At length the tedious journey was resumed.
On the fifth day after leaving Bona the tramp sighted a
felucca-rigged vessel flying Greek colours and proceeding on a
course that would put her athwart the "Andromeda's" bows.
For a quarter of an hour both vessels held on in their respective
directions, until, in accordance with the rule of the road, the
tramp's master ordered the helm to be ported to enable the steamer
to pass under the stern of the sailing craft.
Von Loringhoven, who with others of the crew was engaged in splicing
a wire hawser that had been "nipped" during the "Andromeda's" stay
at Bona, regarded the felucca with languid interest. He had seen
feluccas many times before. At first sight this one seemed much the
same as the others. The nondescript crew in motley garb looked the
picture of Near Eastern indolence as they sprawled in various
attitudes. Even the helmsman seemed almost too languid to exert any
pressure upon the long tiller.
Presently von Loringhoven's interest quickened. Never before had he
seen a Levantine craft with spotless decks nor the ropes neatly
flemished. Amidships was a double-ended boat with high bow and stern
posts. Over her an awning had been thrown to prevent the rays of the
sun opening her seams. In these days of unrestricted piracy such a
precaution was necessary, since the crew might have to take to the
boat at five minutes' notice. So there was nothing extraordinary
about the canvas-covered boat; but when an eddying wind lifted one
corner of the awning the ober-leutnant's curiosity was fully on the
alert, for plainly revealed was the rubber-shod shoulder piece
of a quick-firer.
Half an hour later the felucca was out of sight. It was now von
Loringhoven's watch below, and having fed on fo'c'sle fare he turned
into his bunk.
Shortly after midnight the Hun, with the rest of the men off duty,
was awakened by a terrific crash and a tremendous shock that flung
most of the sleepers out of their berths. It needed not the bo'sun's
shout of "On deck, every mother's son of you!" to clear the
fore-peak.
The "Andromeda" had been torpedoed without warning, the explosion
tearing a huge rent under her port quarter.
She was foundering rapidly. There was hardly time for the men to
pass five of their badly wounded and injured mates into the boats
before her rail was awash. Barely had the Old Man leapt into the
last boat to get away when the "Andromeda" flung her stern high in
the night air and slithered noisily beneath the surface.
Hardly able to realise that their floating home had disappeared from
view the men lay on their oars until the master shouted to the chief
mate for the boats to keep together.
"We'll be picked up as soon as it's daylight, lads," he added
encouragingly. "So tighten your belts and keep a stiff upper lip."
"Submarine dead ahead," shouted several voices when, ten minutes
later, a long, low-lying dark shape came into view, silhouetted
against the starlit sea.
"Coming to poke Charley at us," muttered the first mate. "Don't give
them any lip, lads, or as likely as not they'll throw the whole
crowd of us into the ditch."
Carrying little way the U-boat slipped in between the "Andromeda's"
boats. An officer and a couple of seamen were standing on the
platform surrounding the conning-tower; more men were clustered
round the quick-firers.
"What sheep haf we sunk?" demanded a guttural voice.
"The 'Andromeda' of Avonmouth," replied the master.
"Von swine of English sheep no more," chortled the U-boat officer.
"Where your kapitan is?"
There was silence in the boats. The Old Man would have replied, but
for the fact that the bo'sun had clapped his horny palm over his
superior officer's mouth, and with a praiseworthy disregard for
disparity of rank had bade him "keep his jaw-tackle bowsed down."
The inquiry was repeated in a decidedly menacing tone.
"Not here," answered the first mate, grasping the situation. "Most
likely he's gone down."
As a matter of fact the staunch old skipper was "down," but in a
different sense, for, endeavouring to assert defiantly that he was
the master of s.s. "Andromeda" and not afraid of a pack of piratical
Huns, he had been forcibly placed on his back in the stern sheets of
the boat.
So intent upon other matters was von Loringhoven, who was in the
first mate's boat, that the purport of the dialogue with the
kapitan-leutnant of the U-boat failed to leave any impression on his
mind.
"Take me on board!" he hailed in German. "I am Ober-Leutnant von
Loringhoven, late of U 254."
"Silence there!" ordered the first mate sternly. With the rest of
the survivors of the tramp he did not understand German, nor had he
any suspicion that the words were in that language.
Great was his astonishment when the submarine commander ordered the
boat alongside, and a couple of German seamen assisted the all too
willing von Loringhoven over the bulging sides of the pirate craft.
Then, her twin propellers churning the water into eddies of
phosphorescence, the U-boat forged ahead and left the rest of the
"Andromeda's" crew to their reflections.
"Wonder why the deuce those Huns collared Jimmy Marsh?" was the
question that puzzled the boats' crews. "Suppose he knew a bit of
Hun lingo and gave them lip, and they didn't like it."
Meanwhile von Loringhoven was being entertained in the cabin of the
kapitan-leutnant of the U-boat, and at an early stage in the
conversation he startled his brother-officer by remarking,
"If you should fall in with a felucca, Heinrich, have a care--she's
dangerous."