THE SHOW-DOWN
In 1919 when the N-C 4, the colossal flying boat built for the purpose
by the American Navy, made her epoch-making flight across the ocean,
there was, among many others, one great difficulty surpassing the
rest, which made the task well-nigh impossible. The distance from
Newfoundland to the Azores was so great that the problem of building a
machine with a hull strong enough to alight safely on the waves, with
a load of fuel sufficient for the journey, yet still able to lift the
required weight off the water, taxed the available engineering talent
to the limit. When all that had been deemed essential was put aboard,
the boats were actually unable to rise into the air. Something had to
be discarded. The margin of fuel above what the flight would consume
was already so small that the commanding officer was unwilling to
reduce it further. Therefore the emergency radio transmitter was left
behind, and in consequence the N-C 3, flagship of the flight, was
nearly lost with all on board. This much is history, but let us get on
with our story.
In the years between 1919 and 1937, science and engineering had done
wonders, but they had not lessened the number of miles between
Newfoundland and the Azores, nor enabled seaplanes to fly without fuel
nor to alight on ocean waves without strong hulls. The problem of
flying seaplanes across the ocean under their own power was still
acute. Seaplanes manufactured in the States were needed in steadily
increasing numbers at the great center of naval activity in the
Azores. Cargo space on ships could ill be spared for their
transportation; they must transport themselves. But instead of
attempting to cross the wide ocean in a single hop, they divided the
journey in two stages by means of a great floating hangar midway
between Newfoundland and Fayal. Thus the load of fuel required was cut
in two.
This floating hangar was little more than a glorified scow with a huge
sea anchor to windward and engines of just power enough to supplement
this in holding her against drifting away from her station when the
wind was strong. Two long arms or wings projecting to leeward from her
hull enclosed a large sheltered pool, and giant plates, extending deep
down under water from the flanks of these arms, broke the waves, so
that even in the heaviest gales the surface of the pool was smooth
enough for the planes to alight. Fuel tanks, repair shop, quarters for
crew of hangar and of passing seaplanes, fast seagoing motor-boats for
rescue and salvage work, and storage space for a few planes comprised
the rest of the equipment.
A gray lifeless dusk was about to close in on this lonely floating
station the day after Barton had called on Fraser. In a deckhouse was
a sort of wardroom where were wont to gather the officers in charge
and the pilots of such planes as were attached to the station or had
stopped there in passing. A group of pilots was sitting round the
table looking over the latest weather bulletin received by radio; this
promised a clearing of the sky before morning. The sky had been
overcast for two days, and the officers now began their usual custom,
on such occasions, of getting up a pool with bets on the number of
miles off station that the navigator would find them to be with his
early morning star sights. One man bet as high as ten miles.
“That’s absurd,” said another. “They know just what the ocean currents
are round here by now, and they’ve got indicators to show just what
drift the old scow makes. They’re always making allowances for all
that. I don’t believe we’ll be over three miles off.”
“I’m from Missouri on this dead-reckoning with a scow riding to a sea
anchor, and a one-horse engine to get home with,” said the first.
“Well,” said the other, “you back your notion with your dough, and
I’ll back mine. If it clears off like they say it will, we’ll see
to-morrow who’s the richer for the deal.”
The skeptic rose from the table, yawned, stretched, and sauntered to
the window where he looked out over the endless gray waste of water on
which the leaden sky was already beginning to cast the gloom of
approaching twilight.
“Gosh, what a dreary place this is!” he said. “I hope they won’t keep
me stuck in this billet many weeks; the monotony of it will just about
drive me silly.”
“That’s the kind of thing you’ve got to expect in war,” said another
officer, older than the rest—one that was permanently attached to the
floating hangar.
“I’d give my eye teeth,” said the skeptic, “to be out where there’s
something doing—looking for enemy subs to bomb. Good Lord, all we do
here is to go out to find some blighter who can’t keep his engine
running and has flopped on the water, and tell him ‘cheerio’ while he
waits for the motor-boat to come and salvage him. Why can’t they teach
these bums to fly, before sending them out here with brand-new planes,
anyway?”
“If they did that, you’d have even less to occupy you than you have
now,” said the older man. “As for hunting subs, I’ll bet you’d find
that a damn sight more monotonous than this. Here you at least find
the blighter you’re looking for.”
The conversation was suddenly interrupted by the signal, “Action
Stations.” The pilots ran to their planes, and the older officer ran
to his station in the pilot-house where he found the commanding
officer studying the eastern sky with his binoculars.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“A big seaplane coming this way,” answered the commanding officer.
“She looks like an American plane, but we’re not expecting any from
there, and we’ve had no radio from Punta Delgada or Fayal that would
indicate any plane was coming. So I called out the gun crew to be
ready in case of trouble. Give a recognition signal—she’s near enough
now to see it.”
The signal was flashed out—a series of brilliant colored lights—and
instantly the answering signal was seen to flash from the approaching
seaplane, already visible to the naked eye.
“She’s American, all right,” said the skipper, “but what’s she doing
coming here now? I thought they needed all their planes right there.
And why haven’t we had any word of her coming?”
The roar of the four big engines was already audible, and soon the
great plane with her wing-spread of a hundred feet, swung round to
leeward of the hangar, swooped down, hovered low over the waves, and
settled gracefully on the smooth surface of the water between the
sheltering arms of the giant scow.
The great seaplane was warped into the landing stage, and down from
the hull clambered her pilot followed by Barton, Evans, and the
prisoner, Long.
“Where’s the Captain?” asked Barton of the seaman who helped him on to
the landing stage.
“Right here,” said the skipper, hastening down from the pilot-house.
Barton handed him a slip of paper. He looked at it; then turned
quickly to his orderly.
“Tell Mr. Jones I want to see him at once. Commander Barton, come to
my room and I’ll have supper for you right away. The gunners can go to
the wardroom. I’ll have the plane ready for you to go on in half an
hour.”
Lieutenant Jones, the executive officer, appeared, on the run, and
saluted.
“Mr. Jones, have the tanks of this seaplane filled with gas and oil,
have the engine carefully inspected and the best emergency crew fully
equipped and ready to take her; they are going on to Trepassy Bay, and
everything must be ready in half an hour. Have supper for the crew
that brought her in; they’ll stay here.”
The skeptic was told that he was to take the big seaplane on the next
lap of her journey;—the monotony was to break more abruptly than he
had hoped. Never had the routine of this floating relay station been
so violently shaken. To-day a new record for speed was made, for the
slip of paper called for speed, and it bore the signature of Admiral
Johnson. In arranging with Fraser for the trip, Barton had told him
nothing of his confidential relations with Evans, but merely stated
that since the case involved tampering with the radio gear in the
flagship, which Evans had discovered, he wanted to take him along as a
witness.
In half an hour, as the tired crew that had brought the giant seaplane
on her flight from the Azores, refreshed by hot coffee and cigarettes,
were beginning to wonder how long they were doomed to stay at this
lonely spot in midocean, Barton, Evans, and Long climbed aboard the
seaplane once more. Long was shackled to his seat, so that he could
not by a sudden leap deprive them of his services as a witness. The
skeptic took his place in the pilot’s seat; and with a deafening roar
from her engines the great creature rose off the water and shot away
into the twilight where she was almost instantly lost to view. Looking
back ten minutes later, the pilot saw twinkling faintly astern the
light on the floating hangar that guided seaplanes to this haven of
rest and refuge on the lonely sea.
It was only just after two in the morning when the commanding officer
of the great seaplane base at Trepassy Bay, Newfoundland, was roused
from his sleep and handed a slip of paper which caused him to spring
out of bed and order the best seaplane at the base to be ready at once
to take passengers to Halifax.
At Halifax they stopped for breakfast while a fresh plane was being
prepared to make a non-stop flight to Washington. Before nine they
were on their way again, dropping the islands and promontories of the
Nova Scotia coast behind them at a rate of ninety miles an hour. As
they passed over the heel of Cape Cod, flying high, Evans could make
out the long white line of Monomoy Island with its sandy ocean beach.
The memory returned to him of the same white line when last he had
seen it over the roaring breakers, showing dimly through the rain from
the _Petrel’s_ cockpit, on his adventurous sail with Mortimer.
It was toward the end of the afternoon that the strange trio arrived
in Washington, quite unheralded. With the utmost care to keep Evans
concealed from Rich’s possible spies, Barton found Mortimer and
brought him secretly to the place where Evans was awaiting them.
Mortimer told them all that had transpired in Washington and how Rich
had found in Goss the real culprit. Then they in turn recited the
evidence they had obtained at the Azores implicating Rich. The
behavior of Long and his visible agitation on the mention of Rich’s
name seemed to Mortimer suggestive, but not conclusive; so did the
testimony of Elkins concerning Rich’s advice to Captain Brigham, but
this, having passed through so many months, carried less weight than
the other. The report of Heringham, however, made him feel that the
case, indeed, looked bad for Rich. After some consultation it was
decided that, unknown to Rich, Mortimer should assemble Admiral
Rallston, Chief of Naval Intelligence, Barton and Evans in his office,
and then send for Rich and question him. Long would be held under
guard where he could easily be brought in, and Commander White could
be summoned at any time from the Bureau of Engineering to repeat the
significant words of Captain Brigham, if it seemed desirable.
The next morning Evans and Barton were smuggled into Mortimer’s office
with every precaution that no word of their presence should reach the
ears of Commander Rich. Admiral Rallston then came, and all sat down
where they could watch the face of Rich as he entered the door. Rich
was then requested to come to the Secretary’s office. So cordial had
been their relations that he now felt sure all suspicion of him had
vanished, and he obeyed the summons without misgivings.
With breathless suspense the others awaited his arrival. The door was
opened by an orderly and Rich entered. All eyes were on him. As he saw
Evans sitting before him, his face blanched visibly and there was the
least suggestion of a tightening of his muscles. But in an instant he
was all cordiality, his self-possession never better.
“This is an unexpected pleasure,” he said to Evans. “I hadn’t heard
you were returning from the fleet so soon.”
“You wouldn’t,” answered Evans; “the Bureau keeps you occupied with
larger issues.”
“Indeed,” replied Rich graciously, “I hear often of the splendid work
you have been doing for us in the fleet in keeping our equipment in
working order.”
Equally gracious was Rich in his greetings to Barton and Admiral
Rallston.
Then Mortimer, bracing himself for the effort, spoke.
“Commander Rich,” he said, “I regret to say that a man from your
division of the Bureau of Engineering was found purposely damaging the
radio apparatus on the _Delaware_ under pretense of making changes
indicated in orders from you.”
“Indeed?” said Rich, his composure not the least bit ruffled, yet with
an appropriate display of surprise. “And what was his name and
rating?”
“Radio Gunner Long,” answered Mortimer. “Do you remember him?”
“I think I recall his name,” said Rich, “but we have so many in the
Bureau I find it hard to know them all. At all events, I should not
have been directly concerned with planning the work of such a man. The
officers under me lay out the work and make out the orders; they
merely bring them to Admiral Bishop or me to sign. It would be
impossible for me to give any clue to this particular case offhand;
but I can start an investigation at once, and we can probably trace
his orders to their source.”
“Unhappily,” said Mortimer, “evidence was brought to light which
appeared to point unmistakably to you as the real author of the plan
to damage the apparatus.”
“Mr. Secretary,” said Rich, with impressive dignity and earnestness,
“it is impossible that you have given credence to such slanderous
accusations after our years of close and cordial coöperation in the
prosecution of the war.”
“Indeed,” said Mortimer, “I was loath to listen to them till the mass
of evidence seemed overwhelming.”
“It must, indeed, have been overwhelming to outweigh my years of
devoted service to the navy. May I ask what this overwhelming evidence
is?”
“A number of things about the behavior of this man Long appeared to
those who apprehended him only capable of interpretation as signifying
your complicity with his acts. These facts, coupled with the changing
of messages last week, and the simultaneous disappearance of Mr.
Tompkins, which present indications seem to show are not as easily
explained as you made them appear to be then through the agency of
Goss, have led to the accusation.”
“All these things can still be perfectly well explained. Goss
confessed to tapping the wires and impersonating me, as you yourself
can witness; Tompkins was probably himself implicated, and, hearing of
Goss’s fate, has either absconded or committed suicide. The evidence
associated with this man Long, you speak of, can be explained on
proper investigation as easily as all the rest. I think, Mr.
Secretary, you are doing me an extraordinary injustice to so much as
listen to these accusations after my years of devoted service. Perhaps
the gunner, here,” indicating Evans, “who has at times been impatient
with me for not accepting new-fangled ideas as quickly as he would
like, has been poisoning your mind against me.”
“Since you bring up that issue,” said Evans, “I should like to ask
why, if you are indeed the gallant and loyal officer you modestly
concede yourself to be, you told Captain Brigham the _Delaware_ would
be better off without the equipment you had authorized to enable her
to direct the fleet in action.”
A dark scowl showed for an instant on Rich’s face. “It’s a lie,” said
he; “I never said such a thing to Captain Brigham or any one else.”
Evans turned to Mortimer.
“Commander White’s testimony on that point might be interesting,” he
said.
Commander White was summoned. When he entered the room, Mortimer said
to him, “Commander White, I wish to know if Captain Brigham, while
chief of staff, ever said anything to you about remarks by Commander
Rich to him on the subject of the radio equipment of the _Delaware_.”
“He did say something about that, sir.”
“Do you remember what he said?”
“It is some time ago, but, as I recall it, Gunner Evans had just said
something to him about the set not being in good working order
according to the specifications of the Bureau, and he had told the
gunner the set was the way he wanted it. When Gunner Evans had gone,
Captain Brigham told me that Commander Rich had said he didn’t believe
in most of the newer equipment, and he thought it would be just as
well not to attempt to keep it all in working order, but to rely in
practice on the old-fashioned gear.”
Commander Rich then said: “I don’t recall making any such remarks as
that. Captain Brigham and I had frequent conversations, and at some
time I may have said that some of the older gear had stood up well in
service and was in some ways more reliable than some of the newer
devices. Mr. Secretary, you know how easy it is to misquote a man,
even with the best of intentions. Some remark of mine has been
misunderstood and then passed from mouth to mouth till it actually is
held up as evidence of treason. The thing is ludicrous. I never
dreamed of advocating anything that would impair the efficiency of the
ships.”
Evans spoke next. “The efficiency of the _Delaware’s_ radio room as it
was in Captain Brigham’s regime might well be likened to that of a
Ford car with one cylinder working and no front wheels. In spacing the
battleship divisions most effectively for the concentration of
gun-fire, in disposing the cruiser squadrons and destroyer flotillas,
every bit of modern equipment authorized by the Bureau is needed.
Messages must often go out simultaneously on as many as five different
wave-lengths. With the gear as Captain Brigham had it, that would be
absolutely impossible; the team-work of the fleet would be crude and
clumsy—worse, it would be paralyzed. Our ships, rambling incoherently
over the ocean, would be at the mercy of the enemy if ever they were
brought to action. That is what Brigham’s efficiency stood for.”
“Mr. Secretary,” said Rich with dignity, “I have already told you that
I never advocated any neglect of radio equipment which could have
impaired the efficiency of the fleet. The gunner here is obsessed by
an exaggerated sense of the importance of certain devices in whose
development he has been interested. When he found them not working as
well as he would have liked, and Captain Brigham not as much
interested in them as he was, he built out of some misquoted remark of
mine an elaborate picture of high treason.”
Evans shrugged his shoulders and looked at Barton. The case against
Rich did not appear on the face of it as clear and convincing as it
had before the defendant’s eloquent tongue had been mobilized in his
defense. But Barton held in his hand a strong card of which he had as
yet given no intimation. During the night, after hearing from Mortimer
how Goss had been caught and driven to confess, he had interviewed
Long. He now rose and went to a door leading to an adjoining room,
opened it, and beckoned Long to come in. As he entered, all eyes were
not on him, but on Rich. When this officer saw the prisoner enter, he
started and turned pale. To the watchful eyes of Barton the look of
guilt on his face was unmistakable. Mortimer was rather struck by the
ease with which he regained his composure after the surprise of seeing
one whom he thought to be in the Azores, suddenly brought before him.
Barton then handed to Mortimer the original orders under which Long
had been sent to Punta Delgada, formally signed by Admiral Bishop as
Chief of the Bureau. Mortimer read the orders; then questioned Long as
to his mission and how he had come to be sent on it. Long’s voice
trembled as he answered:
“Commander Rich explained to me that my task was to damage the radio
equipment on the flagship—and later on the division flagships—as much
as I could without its being discovered in time to repair it. Before I
went he called me to his office in the Bureau, where we looked over
the diagrams of most of the apparatus, and considered the best places
to damage the sets in a way that would not be found out till they were
called on for heavy usage. After making a few suggestions he left it
to me to work out the details.”
“This is the most preposterous fabrication I have heard yet,” called
out Rich in high dudgeon.
“Just a moment,” said Mortimer. “I wish to ask Gunner Long a few more
questions, then we can have your comments.” Then, turning again to
Long, he continued, “How did you come to be in the service, and how
did your relations with Commander Rich come about?”
“Goss and I were working as electricians in a factory in New York
where they make radio apparatus. We had been in this country since we
were boys; I came from Bulgaria and he from Thrace. Just before this
country joined the war, Commander Rich, in civilian clothes, came to
see us and talked with us for a long time, asking us what we knew of
electricity and how we felt about the war. We both were on the side of
the Balkan Powers in our hearts and had no feeling of obligation to
America. He told us this country was soon going into the war and that
the rulers in Constantinople had things so well planned and organized
that they were sure to win, and America would then be under their
rule; and any one who had helped the cause would be in luck. Finding
us disposed to work for that end, he told us that he was an agent of
the Constantinople Government and had been holding a position in the
United States Navy for some years, and showed us documents proving his
statement. He offered us jobs in the Bureau of Engineering with the
salaries of our ratings and in addition an equal amount from a secret
source at his disposal. We both accepted the offer, and as I was the
older and more experienced, I was made a radio gunner, while Goss was
enrolled as chief radio electrician. He promised us both rewards
either in money or good positions at the close of the war, and assured
us he would then control great power.
“Goss was my best friend in the world. No man was ever more faithful;
never did a man face the dangers of that work more bravely or more
cheerfully than he. If Commander Rich had stood by him, nothing on
earth would have made me tell. Till yesterday I stood ready to keep my
mouth shut even if you tortured me. But last night I learned how this
cur had betrayed my friend and foully done him to death. And now I am
ready and glad to tell you the truth. Goss never faltered. He was ever
ready at the master’s bidding to risk discovery, tapping wires and
impersonating others. When Rich found himself cornered, he turned to
Goss and ordered him to reveal his mimicry that he himself might
escape the net.”
All eyes were on Rich. His face wore a sneering look.
“Mr. Secretary,” he said, “it seems to me that story is pretty thin, I
might almost say transparent. You, as a lawyer, have doubtless seen
through it yourself already. This man is a spy; we all know that. He
was caught in the act of doing the work he has just described. Goss
was his friend; they were confederates. Now that he has been caught,
and his plan frustrated, he naturally wants to shift the burden of
guilt, as much of it as will shift, on to the shoulders of some one
else. Whom will he try to implicate? Naturally the head of the
division in charge of radio apparatus. It would help his case to do
so, anyway; and now that he finds on his return that I discovered his
friend and confederate, and caused his execution, naturally his desire
for revenge makes him all the more eager to accuse me. With two
motives, both strong, one might almost predict in advance that he
would do just this. As for his story, any one who wanted could invent
it in ten minutes. Surely you will not be so simple as to believe it.”
Long was seeing red. The storm of pent-up feeling, brewing as Rich
delivered these remarks, now broke.
“You vile scoundrel!” cried the prisoner. “Goss served you to the
last, and you betrayed him; you made him use the skill that had served
you, to bring on his own death sentence, to save your dirty hide.”
“Mr. Secretary,” said Rich, “on my honor I am innocent. A man of your
experience will not take the word of a confessed spy with an obvious
grievance, against that of an officer tried by years of service in the
navy.”
“Probably not, if that were the only evidence,” said Mortimer.
“I demand of you in the interest of fair play,” said Rich earnestly,
“that Admiral Bishop, Chief of the Bureau of Engineering, be permitted
to come and speak in my defense. I am certain he will assure you of my
innocence.”
“Very well,” said Mortimer, “I will send for him at once.”
In a few moments Admiral Bishop was ushered in, looking more pompous,
his face redder and his whiskers whiter then ever. Mortimer told him
briefly the story of the suspicions and charges, and summarized Rich’s
defense. Admiral Bishop could hardly contain his indignation.
“This is the most outrageous frame-up against a loyal officer that I
ever heard of,” he said. “Commander Rich has been my right-hand man
throughout the war. He has contributed more than any one in Washington
to the high state of preparedness of the navy to-day. Ask any man who
has been close to the organization of radio communications in the
fleet during recent months if the efficiency of the apparatus is not a
signal tribute to the responsible man at the head.”
“We have just heard from one man who has been very close to radio
communications in the fleet,” said Barton, “and he didn’t seem to look
on their efficiency in that light.”
“Who?” asked Bishop.
“Evans,” replied Barton. “He seems to feel that our communications are
working well in spite of Commander Rich, not because of him.”
“The gunner here!” said Admiral Bishop in surprise. “You don’t expect
me to yield to a radio gunner in my judgment of the men in charge of
the divisions of my Bureau?”
“No,” said Barton, “only you said, ‘Ask any man who has been close to
the organization in the fleet,’ and he was one; that’s all.”
Barton deemed it unwise to mention before Rich anything of what he had
heard from Heringham about Rich’s status in enemy circles. He had
mentioned this to Mortimer in private, but the skill with which Rich
had parried all attacks thus far, and the stanch support of Admiral
Bishop seemed to have obscured that testimony in Mortimer’s mind; and
the upshot of it was that he seemed perplexed and rather inclined to
lean toward Rich’s side of the case. Barton therefore left the room,
and, when out of sight of the others, beckoned Mortimer to follow. In
a moment Mortimer excused himself and joined Barton in a corridor
where they could be far enough to be safe from eavesdroppers while
they conversed in whispers. Barton then reminded him of the testimony
received in the secret messages from Heringham in Constantinople.
Mortimer thought a moment and then remarked: “That might all have come
from some spy who has caught on to Evans’s method of getting messages
from Gibraltar, and has smuggled in fake messages implicating Rich.”
“That is extremely improbable,” said Barton. “Anyway, there are so
many things all pointing the same way I am convinced of his guilt.”
“He has offered a reasonable explanation of every item thus far,” said
Mortimer. “I don’t see how we can prove the case against him without
something more definite and unanswerable than we’ve got.”
While this whispered conference was going on in the corridor,
Commander Rich and Admiral Bishop were making things as uncomfortable
as they were able for Evans. The Admiral was so incensed by the affair
that he freely proclaimed his indignation—men who made such
accusations against one of Rich’s integrity and distinguished service
ought to be imprisoned. Rich, with malicious insinuation, turned the
odium of it upon Evans who, glum and silent, paid no apparent heed.
Mortimer and Barton in the corridor outside were making little
progress with their conference and were about to rejoin the others
when Mortimer’s attention was drawn to the sound of a man’s voice
talking rather excitedly to one of the clerks in the outer office. He
listened and could hear the voice saying, “It is most important that I
should see him at once.”
Then he heard the clerk say, “He is having a very important conference
and can’t be disturbed.”
Mortimer stepped into the outer office and saw that the man with the
excited voice was Rand.
“Did you wish to see me?” he asked.
“Yes, at once,” answered Rand breathlessly.
Mortimer led him into the corridor.
“What is it?” he said. “Tell me in a whisper. We can’t go in there
now.”
“Tompkins has just appeared,” said Rand in a hoarse whisper. “He was
kidnaped and has just escaped. His story is most important.”
“Where is he now?”
“In his own office,” said Rand.
“Bring him here at once,” said Mortimer.
Rand disappeared on the run, and in less than three minutes returned
with Tompkins, looking thin, worn, and exhausted. Tompkins then told
how on that memorable morning when so many things happened he had gone
early to the Secretary’s office with the message from Evans, and, not
finding Mortimer, had returned to his own office, and how, when he
next set out, Commander Rich had dealt with the situation.
“Commander Rich called you up and explained the situation, then handed
me the phone,” he said. “You probably remember the conversation; as I
recall it, you said, ‘It’s all right, give Commander Rich the message.
It will excite less notice if you don’t keep coming to my office.’”
“You say I said that?” broke in Mortimer.
“Yes, sir.”
“I never had any telephone conversation with you at all that morning,”
said Mortimer, “nor with Rich till after I received the message
delivered by his messenger.”
Tompkins stared with amazement.
“This is the most important testimony we’ve got,” said Barton. “Go on,
and remember to speak quietly.”
Tompkins then told of his kidnaping, the long motor-ride into the
mountains and the days of imprisonment in the abandoned logging hut
with the scantiest food supplies, under guard of five armed ruffians.
“A few days ago they had an altercation. There were whispered
conferences and arguments just out of my hearing. Angry words passed,
and I don’t know just what happened, but pretty soon I found that
three of the five had deserted, leaving only the two to guard me. The
food got low and one of them had to walk a long distance to get more;
he got back pretty tired. The two of them drank some liquor and
started taking turns at watching through the night. Just before dawn
the man who had gone for the food, having stood watch since midnight,
dropped off to sleep; the long walk and the liquor were too much for
him. I was sleeping with one eye open. When I was satisfied that he
was asleep, I slipped out of the hut. The dawn was just breaking, and
I picked my way down a wood road, and then ran till I had got a good
mile from the hut. I tramped nearly all day and in the afternoon
reached a village where I learned that I was at the edge of the
Shenandoah Mountains. I hadn’t a cent, but I got a man to take me down
in his flivver to a railroad town where I induced the bank president
to trust me and give me a night’s lodging. That was yesterday, but it
seems like last year. This morning he lent me the railroad fare to get
back to Washington. I took the first train this morning, and got in
about an hour ago.”
Barton asked a few more questions, and then said to Mortimer, “I think
we’d better have him come right in and give his testimony before the
others.”
Then he explained to Tompkins that Rich was charged with treason, and
they were in the middle of the investigation.
Mortimer and Barton reëntered the room, and then, with their eyes on
Rich, beckoned Tompkins to follow. As Tompkins entered, Rich caught
his breath with a gasp. There was no mistaking the pallor on his face
now, nor did he regain his composure as easily this time.
Tompkins then recited the details of the momentous morning when Rich
had intercepted his message. Mortimer explained to Admirals Rallston
and Bishop that he had never taken part in the alleged telephone
conversation, that the message which Tompkins tried to deliver was
identical with that which Evans had later repeated to Rand, and that
the message received by messenger, urging the recall of Fraser, was a
bogus one. Admiral Bishop was quite bewildered, and got lost in the
intricacies of the conflicting narratives. Rallston, grasping the
significance of the revelations, looked very serious. Evans, alert and
missing nothing, was looking more cheerful.
Mortimer turned on Rich.
“How do you explain this telephone conversation in which I never took
part, but in which Mr. Tompkins understood me to instruct him to
deliver his message to you?”
Rich, once more perfectly at ease, replied: “I explain it by telling
you it is a lie; just one more bit of this whole elaborate frame-up. I
told you Tompkins was probably involved in this business, and had
probably absconded.”
“Or committed suicide,” put in Barton.
Rich ignored the interruption and continued: “When he heard that there
was a conspiracy on foot to discredit me, he saw his chance to get in
on the thing. He has doubtless been in conference with others in his
gang, and they have decided that this story is the best way to play
their game.”
There was a pause. Admiral Bishop stroked his whiskers and nodded
approvingly.
“I think that is a very reasonable explanation, Mr. Secretary,” he
said.
Evans then spoke.
“I think there is now a chance of putting this thing to the test of
something better than words. Until Tompkins entered the room just now
I had no idea he was in Washington; I didn’t know whether he was still
alive. I have therefore had no possible chance of collusion with him
since I got home from the Azores. Are you satisfied on that point?”
“Perfectly,” answered Mortimer.
“I should now like to ask Tompkins if he felt sure that he recognized
the voice in the telephone as yours,” continued Evans. “Is that a fair
question?”
“It is,” said Mortimer, turning to Tompkins and awaiting his reply.
“The voice sounded exactly like the Secretary’s; I had no doubt of it
at the time,” said Tompkins.
“Now,” said Evans, “according to Tompkins’s story, Commander Rich went
through the usual procedure of calling this room through the Bureau
switch-board. In due course a voice, which Tompkins believed he
recognized as yours, answered. You never received the call. If
Tompkins’s story is true, some one must have cut the wires from
Commander Rich’s room to the switch-board; otherwise the call would
have gone through to this room. Furthermore, some one who could mimic
your voice must have been at the other end of the cut wires. When Goss
was charged with cutting in on Tompkins’s line and impersonating
Commander Rich, more than one man in the Bureau testified to having
seen him with a portable phone in the vicinity of the wires leading to
the switch-board, on the morning when all this happened. He was also
shown to be an expert mimic. It remains, then, to see if the wires
from Commander Rich’s phone to the switch-board have been cut.
“As for the possibility that they have been cut since then in order to
corroborate the story, you will notice that Tompkins himself has not
suggested that mode of corroboration, and you have granted that he has
had no opportunity of suggesting it to me. Furthermore, if his story
is true, the wires must have been cut and spliced together again a
week ago when all this happened. But if, as Commander Rich suggests,
he had made up his story as the result of a recent conference with his
gang, after hearing that he had a good chance to get in on the
frame-up, then, if he has had the forethought to cut and splice the
wires in order to back up his story, he must have done it within a few
hours. Now an experienced electrician could tell, on examining the
splices, whether they were done within a few hours, or as long as a
week ago. In fifteen minutes we can find out whether those wires have
been cut, and approximately when.”
“I think, Mr. Secretary,” said Admiral Bishop, “it would be a
gratuitous insult to a distinguished officer to follow the inquiry
further by looking for such evidence against him. I am satisfied the
whole business is an audacious conspiracy to discredit Commander
Rich.”
“Don’t you think that fair play to Mr. Tompkins requires that we
should look at those wires before concluding that he is lying?” asked
Mortimer.
“I do not see it,” said the Admiral.
“I do,” said Mortimer.
The electrician who had installed the wires in the Bureau at the
outbreak of the war was sent for; also two other expert wire-men as
witnesses. It was a strangely assorted procession that walked through
the corridors of the Navy Department from the Secretary’s room to the
Bureau of Engineering. Secretary Mortimer and Admiral Rallston went
first; behind them followed Admiral Bishop and Commander Rich, while
Barton, Evans, Rand, Tompkins, and Long brought up the rear. Evans and
the electricians set to work removing planks to explore the wires
leading from Commander Rich’s room to the switch-board. It was not
long before Evans, who had chosen a place where a man could work
unseen, to begin his search, called the others to come and look. There
were the wires, each with a swelling of electric tape. This was
carefully removed by one of the electricians, and under the tape the
wires were spliced. Every one had a look at the splices.
“Do you recall whether the wires were spliced at that point when you
put them in?” asked Mortimer.
“I am certain that they were not,” replied the electrician.
“Have you ever looked at them since?”
“I inspected them two months ago.”
“Were they spliced then?”
“No.”
“Could you swear to it?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell how long ago those splices were made?”
The electrician examined the wires carefully; then answered, “They
weren’t done within the last three days; I am sure of that. How much
longer ago, I can’t tell.”
The other electricians examined the wires and all testified that the
splices couldn’t have been made less than four days ago at the very
latest.
The electricians were dismissed. Admiral Rallston turned to Admiral
Bishop.
“Can you tell me how that evidence could have been faked?” he said.
Admiral Bishop did not answer. All eyes were now on Rich who was an
ashy gray, all his affable manner gone, a venomous look of malice on
his face.
Evans and Barton exchanged glances, and Barton nudged Admiral
Rallston.
“Have you heard anything from our friend Bela since his unceremonious
departure?” said Evans casually to Rich. “He has been praising you
warmly.”
Rich started violently and turned a shade paler; the look of fear and
hate in his face was more intense than ever. He opened his mouth to
speak, and then, looking at the eyes of the others all grimly watching
him, he remained silent. Suddenly he turned on Evans and like a flash
drew a pistol from his pocket. Barton, standing close beside him, was
watching him like a lynx. Quick as was Rich’s hand, Barton’s was
quicker. With a swift blow he struck Rich’s right hand toward the
ceiling with such force that the pistol flew from it, and, sailing
through the air, fell at Evans’s feet. Long’s desire to assault Rich
now became uncontrollable; like a wild animal he sprang at him and
dealt him a blow with his fist that sent him sprawling on the floor.
* * * * *
High officials in Constantinople sent out message after message
through secret channels. But the messages remained unanswered.
The day after Rich suddenly ceased to be an officer in the United
States Navy, a great seaplane arrived at Trepassy Bay from Halifax
just after sunset. Out of it stepped Commander Barton and Radio Gunner
Evans, both looking haggard and exhausted. They turned in early at the
seaplane base. Next morning before sunrise they were once more on
board the same seaplane that had brought them from the Azores, with
the same skeptic as pilot, somewhat cheered now by his visit to dry
land. At the floating hangar they found the original crew of the
plane, well rested now and eager to get back to the Azores.
The sunset colors were fading and the pink stucco buildings of Punta
Delgada but dimly showing against the green hills behind the town as
the great seaplane hovered over the battleship _Delaware_, answering
her recognition signals, and then alighted at the entrance to the
inner harbor.
Evans was now easier in his mind, for Rich was no more. But still he
was terribly haunted by the fear that Rich or his agents had learned
the secret of the code stolen by Wellman (alias Bela), and revealed it
to their superiors in Constantinople. Therefore the first thing he did
on his arrival aboard the _Delaware_ was to send one of his secret
messages to Heringham by way of Kendrick, requesting an investigation
as to whether the code was still believed to be genuine, and a report
as soon as feasible.
Two days later, Evans, listening on his specially prepared receiver at
the appointed hour when Kendrick was wont to transmit intelligence
from Gibraltar, recognized the significant combinations of sounds
which meant there was news for him. Listening eagerly, with quickening
pulse he followed the message which came from Heringham. Careful
investigation, it said, had satisfied him that implicit trust was
still placed in the genuineness of the stolen code. Evans breathed
freely once more. The talisman was still good.
At last, early in April, orders were issued to the various units of
the fleet to be ready for sea on a certain night, and a handful of men
knew that this foreshadowed more than a practice cruise. This handful
of men knew that, by dawn of the morning following the designated
night, the entire fleet would be on the open sea.
Two days of feverish preparation followed, during which Evans made
hasty visits in the rôle of family doctor, or rather chief consultant,
to the radio apparatus of the fleet, diagnosing ailments, giving
advice and, when necessary, applying radical treatment to disordered
gear.
As the last day before the departure drew to a close, weary with his
labors, but satisfied that the fleet was ready for its task, he went
to the Borge garden at dusk and ascended the old watch-tower once
more. The moon was rising over the sea, and its broad, shimmering wake
on the water was broken in a hundred places by the dark forms of great
ships, emblems of concentrated might. The moon rose higher till its
outline was broken by the branches of the old cedar tree which formed
a perfect frame for the great tableau of gallant ships on the shining
water. Evans sat and drank in the glory of the picture before him,
which for sheer beauty was almost unsurpassed in all his experience;
its splendor took his breath away. And as he sat gazing far off over
the moonlit sea with the soft air of the spring night fanning his
cheek, a sense of the glamour of the great navy with its power and
majesty, swept over him. A wild thrill went through him, and
long-forgotten feelings of his boyhood seized him. He yearned
passionately to do great deeds and play an heroic part in this war for
civilization. And as the expansive feeling took hold of him he
contemplated his own rôle as he saw it—a technical man fussing over
small details in a small part of the great machine that was going
forth to fight—a tiny cog in the works of a vast organization of men,
almost a non-combatant compared with the men who would direct the
battle, or the spotters in the fighting top. With a pang he told
himself that perhaps his part in the war was already done, and the
yearning to express the heroic impulse within him must die
unfulfilled. Then he rebuked himself for thinking of his own paltry
rôle as if it were of consequence. The sublimity of the scene before
his eyes inspired him to a larger perspective in which self was
submerged and the cause was all.
“If the cause only triumphs,” he thought, “that’s all that matters.
And the cause will triumph.”
The majestic fleet dotting the silvery surface of the moonlit sea now
seemed to him the symbol of a great hope, and yet, symbol though it
was, it was something very personal and very dear to him. Then there
came back to him another feeling, long buried deep in the remote past,
a feeling once closely linked with the ardent yearning for great
deeds, that had fired his youth. There rose before his eyes the vision
of one who long ago had meant more to him than life itself, one who
when his hopes seemed brightest had been snatched from him through the
influence of a dominating and ambitious mother.... From this his
thoughts turned to the memory of his own mother, unfailing in her
sympathy, gone now, leaving him the priceless heritage of her
devotion.
It was time to return to the flagship. Descending through the shadowy
paths of the old garden, he came out at last and threaded his way
through the picturesque streets of the town to the harbor front where
the Old-World architecture around the landing seemed shrouded in
mystery in the pale moonlight. And as he took his place in the
motor-sailer, he felt that his spirit had been far away from the
little things that make up the daily life in the fleet, now crowding
in on his consciousness and dragging him rudely back from Olympian
heights.
By dawn the next morning the vast fleet—battleships, cruisers,
destroyers and all—had vanished.