A FIGHT TO A FINISH
IT was two days later that the "Georgeos Nikolaos" ran under the
stern of the "Andromeda," and the astute von Loringhoven had
detected the _raison d'être_ of what appeared to be at first sight a
nondescript Mediterranean trading felucca. In happy ignorance of
what had occurred the "Georgeos Nikolaos" carried on with a fair
amount of success, never turning the tables on a U-boat until she
was practically certain of making a proper job of the business.
On the thirteenth day after leaving Malta the felucca turned her
bows westward. Provisions were showing signs of running short, while
the crowded state of the little craft made it undesirable to keep
the seas for any great length of time.
With a following wind the "Georgeos Nikolaos," carrying all sail,
footed it merrily. Provided the breeze held, another five days ought
to see her safely in the Grand Harbour.
"We haven't done so badly, sir," remarked Mr. Gripper, pointing to
the heads of five brightly polished brass nails which were driven
into the tiller, each nail representing a "bag." "Although I says it
as shouldn't, it's something to be proud of. We may get another
Fritz to-day. It's our thirteenth day out, and thirteen is my lucky
number."
"Is that so?" asked the sub, not with any particular display of
enthusiasm. It was the mere idea of being able to talk that prompted
him, for beyond a few necessary orders Farrar hardly exchanged a
word when the warrant officer was not on deck, for the medico, being
of a very retiring nature, spent most of his leisure hours below,
"swotting" at scientific books.
"Fact," declared the gunner vehemently, as if wishing to push home
an unacceptable truth. "I entered Greenwich School on the
thirteenth, an' got my warrant rank thirteen years later. It was
November 13th, two years ago, when we torpedoed the German light
cruiser 'Pelikan,' and my share of the prize money, awarded thirteen
months later, was £130, which is ten times thirteen. So I'm in hopes
of pulling off something to-day."
"Let's hope so," added Farrar.
"Hope so, sir? It's more than a question of hope. There, didn't I
say so?" he added as a seaman raised the shout of "Submarine on the
starboard bow, sir."
There was no doubt about it. Quite four miles away, but showing up
clearly in the slanting rays of the rising sun, was a large
submarine running on the surface, although the curvature of the sea
permitted only the conning tower to be visible.
"She's heading this way--straight for us," said the gunner
gleefully. "Wonder if it's her thirteenth day?"
"Up helm, quartermaster," ordered the sub. "We'll have to lure her a
bit."
The felucca was turned until she lay on a northerly course. Almost
immediately afterwards the U-boat altered helm, until she was
running in the same direction as her prey, but without making any
effort to decrease the distance.
"Hanged if I like that at all," soliloquised Nigel. "Looks as if she
smells a rat. 'Bout ship," he shouted. "Down helm."
The "Georgeos Nikolaos" tacked and lay close hauled in exactly the
opposite direction to the course she had previously taken. The
U-boat followed suit, but still refused to close. She flew no
ensign, hoisted no signal--merely "marking time" on the felucca.
"What's she fooling about like that for, sir?" asked Mr. Gripper.
"Is she funking it?"
"It's my belief that she's suspicious of something," replied the
sub. "She's waiting till the sun is a bit higher. At present it's
right behind us. Shouldn't be surprised if she started to shell us."
"It's a tidy range for our quick-firers," remarked the gunner
dubiously. "Ten thousand yards; wonder if her guns are effective at
that distance?"
A moment later the screech of a projectile was heard overhead,
followed by the detonation of the U-boat's gun. The shell, striking
the sea nearly a thousand yards beyond the felucca, ricochetted four
or five times before finally disappearing beneath the surface.
The gunner gave a low whistle.
"That's some shot, Mr. Gripper," observed Nigel.
"It is, sir," agreed the warrant officer. "A high velocity and a
flat trajectory. Did you notice something very peculiar? The
projectile passed over us before we heard the report."
"Meaning that the velocity of the shell is greater than that of the
sound."
"That's it, sir. Something new as far as U-boats' guns go."
Having made a trial shot the submarine fired again. This time the
shell fell short, ricochetting and passing within fifty yards of the
felucca's stern.
"She means business," declared Farrar. "There's only one thing to be
done. Since she can do a good sixteen knots we can't give her the
slip, so we'll try and close. Hoist the ensign. Bow gun open fire."
Sighted at the maximum elevation the felucca's four-inch replied to
the U-boat's challenge. The projectile fell hopelessly short. Again
the quick-firer spoke, with similar results. The gun was decidedly
outranged.
For nearly twenty minutes the U-boat withheld her fire, maintaining
her distance, and at the same time describing an arc of a circle in
order to take advantage of the position of the sun. An overfed
bulldog might just as well attempt to chase a greyhound as the
felucca to close with her opponent.
With the White Ensign streaming proudly in the breeze the "Georgeos
Nikolaos" maintained her vain attempt, firing with both guns at
regular intervals. She was in a tight corner, for when the Hun
settled down to work the result would be a foregone conclusion,
unless aid from another source were speedily forthcoming. Already
the felucca's wireless was sending out messages, but no responsive
crackling came in reply to her call. The U-boat was jamming the
wireless waves by means of her more powerful installation.
The men, although fully acquainted with their hazardous position,
were in high spirits, laughing and chaffing as they lay prone upon
the deck, for with the exception of the bluejackets serving the
quick-firers they had been ordered to take the frail shelter
provided by the felucca's bulwarks.
The "Georgeos Nikolaos" was now bows on to her opponent. Although
unable to gain on the U-boat she nevertheless presented a smaller
target than had she exposed the whole of her broadside. Under sail
and power she was doing a good eleven knots, but it was practically
useless compared with the submarine's sixteen or seventeen.
Suddenly a cloud of black smoke rose from the U-boat's deck. When it
dispersed under the force of the stiff breeze Fritz was no longer to
be seen.
"She's gone an' busted!" shouted an exuberant bluejacket, and the
men gave vent to a cheer. Their satisfaction increased when, nearly
half an hour later, the felucca sailed through a large patch of oil
in the midst of which were floating some charred pieces of wood and
several canvas-covered caps.
"A sixth nail in the tiller, sir," remarked the warrant officer.
"Our thirteenth day out, you'll remember."
"Not so sure about it, Mr. Gripper," objected the sub. "In any case,
we didn't strafe her. Ah! I thought so," he exclaimed, as the twin
periscopes of the U-boat appeared at a distance of less than five
hundred yards in the felucca's wake. "Wing her, Sampson."
The submarine was playing with her prey like a cat with a mouse.
Under the camouflage of the clouds of smoke she dived, to
reappear--this time astern of the "Georgeos Nikolaos."
Smart as was the gunlayer of the after quick-firer, the U-boat was
smarter. Before the weapon could be swung round and the sights
adjusted she had disappeared again.
When after a considerable interval the U-boat broke surface she was
well out of range of the felucca's guns, although quite within a
striking distance with her own, for a shell burst within a stone's
throw of the British craft's quarter, the flying fragments knocking
splinters from the bulwarks and holing the sails in twenty different
places.
At Mr. Gripper's suggestion a tar-barrel with a long pole wedged
into the bung-hole, and so weighted that the pole floated
vertically, was quickly rigged up and thrown overboard. For a while
it served its purpose, for the pursuing U-boat, spotting what
appeared to be a periscope, sheered off until she had wasted half a
dozen shells before blowing the barrel into a thousand fragments.
Then, her patience being exhausted, the U-boat set to work in grim
earnest to pulverise the felucca. Completely outranged and
outclassed, the "Georgeos Nikolaos" nevertheless put up a gallant
fight, although none of her shells went within half a mile of her
foe.
A direct hit brought both masts down, littering her deck with
splinters, shouldering canvas, and a tangle of ropes. The ponderous
lateen yards trailing over the side set up a drag against which the
motor was powerless, and describing a quadrant of a circle the
felucca lost way, broadside on to her assailant.
Already several of the men were stricken to the deck, some slain
outright, others writhing in agony from severe splinter wounds. Amid
the flying fragments of shells the youthful doctor set to work to
render first aid, coolly heedless of the fact that the felucca was
doomed.
The "Georgeos Nikolaos" was sinking. She was also on fire for'ard.
The bow gun, with its disappearing mountings, had "disappeared" in a
most unorthodox way, having been completely blown overboard,
together with the men who served it. Yet not a soul on board gave
one thought of surrendering. Although with few exceptions members of
the auxiliary service, they were fully imbued with the glorious
traditions of the White Ensign. So long as a plank remained under
their feet, they were grimly determined to fight on, working the
remaining gun in stubborn defiance, yet the while conscious that
they were firing for firing's sake since the comparatively puny
weapon was innocuous to the foe.
A fragment of shell struck down the gunner as he stood at Farrar's
side. It was a dangerous wound, but beyond an ashy greyness of his
features the staunch warrant officer gave no indication of his
physical pain.
"Dash it all!" he exclaimed. "My luck's changed this trip--and the
thirteenth too!" and straightway relapsed into unconsciousness.
A steady flow of warm fluid trickled over the sub's right eyebrow.
Under the impression that it was perspiration he mopped it with his
handkerchief, to discover that blood was running from a clean cut on
his forehead. In the excitement he had failed to experience any
sensation of pain when a splinter of flying metal struck him a
glancing blow.
At length the U-boat ceased firing, for the felucca's after gun had
been put out of action by a direct hit upon the open breech-block
that had destroyed the intercepted thread-locking arrangement. Yet
it seemed rather unusual for a Hun, getting the best of things, to
cease fire as long as there was anything in the nature of a target
to aim at.
One glance showed the sub the reason. The White Ensign had been
blown away.
Another ensign was soon forthcoming. With one hand Farrar lashed it
to a boat-hook staff, and defiantly displayed the emblem of freedom.
Fritz's reply was not long in coming. A shell struck the "Georgeos
Nikolaos" just abaft the stump of the foremast, playing havoc on
board and tearing a hole 'twixt wind and water. It was the _coup de
grâce_. Half stifled by the pungent fumes of the T.N.T., his vision
affected by the noxious smoke, the sub found himself striking
out in a turmoil of broken water amidst a dozen or more of his
devoted crew.
As the smoke dispersed, drifting in eddying clouds far to leeward,
Farrar was able to obtain a clearer view of his surroundings. All
around, the surface of the agitated sea was thick with pieces of
timber of various sizes and shapes. Planks from the still-sinking
vessel were shooting upwards through the air with terrific violence,
to fall again and strike the water with resounding smacks. Twenty
yards away floated the felucca's boat that had been wrenched from
its securing lashings as the craft sank. It was keel upwards, a
portion of the stern had been shattered, and there were other
injuries from shell fire. No longer seaworthy the boat still served
a purpose by supporting four or five bluejackets who were clinging
to her bilge-keels.
A little farther away was the large part of the foremast with the
lateen yards, and some of the scorched canvas still secured. Several
men were already astride the spar, while others, some pushing planks
before them, were making for the frail place of safety.
"Here's our skipper, lads!" shouted Sampson, who, with a stained
bandage round his forehead and another encircling his left arm above
the elbow, was astride the spar and busily engaged in securing
planks to form a rough-and-ready raft. "Come on, sir; there's plenty
of room in the stalls."
"I'm rather late for the performance, I think," replied the sub,
recognising that cheerfulness would go a long way to "winning
through."
"Not a bit of it, sir," replied the gun-layer. "The blessed
overture's only just finished. Show that gentleman to one of the
front seats, please. Sorry the programmes ain't printed, sir; put it
down to shortage of paper."
Assisted by a couple of seamen, for the sub's strength had been
heavily taxed, Farrar was lifted on to a long plank lashed between
the yard and the broken foremast. Of the felucca's crew there were
about twenty survivors, all showing visible tokens of the merciless
shell fire. Mr. Gripper, still unconscious, was lying on the highest
part of the raft; even there the waves were continually breaking
over him, requiring the constant attention of a couple of hands to
prevent his being washed into the sea. The surgeon-probationer was
missing, inquiry eliciting the information that he was attending a
badly wounded man in the main hold when the felucca foundered.
The survivors were, for the most part, boisterously cheerful--almost
idiotically so. The disaster gave them a chance of breaking away
from the restraint of shipboard, and like a crowd of children
unexpectedly let out of school, they joked, chaffed each other, and
even engaged in horseplay as they worked to make good their crazy
raft.
Meanwhile the U-boat was standing by at a distance of a little less
than a mile. Her deck was crowded, the crew coming up from below to
gloat over their glorious victory, while on the conning-tower
platform a group of officers was intently watching by means of
telescopes and binoculars the efforts of the felucca's survivors.
This was practically the only part of the affair that riled the
British bluejackets. They had groused when the U-boat had refused to
throw away the advantage of her superior ordnance; they had taken
their gruelling like true specimens of the bulldog breed; they
realised that it was quite playing the game for the Hun to strafe
them and "get her own back" on the armed felucca for her activity in
ridding the sea of a few pirate craft. But the survivors objected
strongly to Fritz standing by and jeering at their sorry plight.
According to British notions it wasn't playing the game. Abandon the
helpless men to their fate--that is expected of the Hun--but to
remain within sight and crow over them, was almost as bad as if the
U-boat had kept on firing until the massacre was completed.
"The best part of the day is before us, lads!" exclaimed their
youthful skipper, although the tone of his voice sounded strained
and unnatural. Now that the heat of the fight was over he was
feeling the effects of his wound. There had been comparatively
little loss of blood, and this had the effect of increasing the pain
of the contusion, while the tightly adjusted bandage seemed to cut
into his forehead.
"That's so, sir," replied one of the men. "But it's a long, long way
to Malta. Guess we're making half a knot, sir."
"Wot's Fritz up to now?" inquired another, pointing in the direction
of the hostile submarine.
The U-boat was forging ahead straight for the raft. Most of her crew
were below, the others, save for the men at the for'ard quick-firer,
were mustered aft.
At a cable's length away from the handful of survivors from the
"Georgeos Nikolaos" she reversed engines, losing way within easy
hailing distance. There were three officers on the navigating
platform--a short man in the uniform of a kapitan-leutnant, an
unter-leutnant, and a third in a great-coat, but showing no badges
of rank.
"Where have I seen that josser before?" pondered Farrar. "By Jove, I
have it! Von Loringhoven!"
The recognition was mutual, for the supernumerary officer pointed to
the British sublieutenant and spoke a few rapid sentences to the
kapitan-leutnant of the U-boat.
The latter turned and rapped out an order in hasty, guttural tones.
With the utmost alacrity half a dozen hands unfolded a canvas boat,
and launched her from the U-boat's deck. Manned by two seamen and
the unter-leutnant, who held the tiller in one hand and
ostentatiously brandished an automatic pistol in the other, the boat
pulled towards the raft.
"You prisoner are," announced the German officer, addressing the
sub. "Mit me you come must in dis boat."
"Let's fight it to a finish, sir," whispered Sampson. "We can do in
this brass-bound swanker, and I reckon with his pistol I'll be able
to score off those grinning Fritzes before we're knocked out."
Farrar shook his head.
"It's no use offering further resistance, Sampson," he replied.
"They evidently require me rather badly. I don't want the hands to
make any demonstration to upset the Huns. They seem pretty bad
tempered as it is."
"Haste make!" snarled the unter-leutnant.
"Good luck, men!" exclaimed the sub. "I hope to see you again soon."
He stepped into the boat and was taken alongside the submarine.
Under the direction of the unter-leutnant, the prisoner was removed
below, hatches were battened down, and the disappearing guns lowered
into the water-tight house. Judging by the kapitan-leutnant's
excited orders the U-boat was in a hurry. She dived steeply and was
lost to sight.
For some moments the handful of bluejackets on the raft gazed at the
swirl that marked the spot where the U-boat had disappeared; then
Sampson gave vent to a loud shout.
"Hurrah, my hearties!" he announced. "Here comes a destroyer."
The men cheered, but not with their customary vigour, for they
remembered that they had lost their young commanding officer.
"An' another five minutes would have made all the difference," said
one sententiously.
"No wonder Fritz was in a bloomin' hurry."