ON THE GREY NORTH SEA
Brief as was the interval between leaving the treacherous cove and the
moment when Ruxton Farlow found himself surrounded by the tasteful
luxury of the saloon of the long, low, strange-looking craft waiting
just outside to receive him, it was not without many thrilling
experiences.
To a man of less imagination the very few minutes in the petrol launch
would have meant little more than a rather exciting experience. But for
Ruxton they possessed a far deeper significance. Nor was the least the
feeling that he had slammed-to the doors of the life behind him, bolted
and barred and locked them, and--flung away the key.
That was the man. Sensitive to every mood that assailed him, yet urged
on by an indomitable purpose, he had no more power to raise a hand to
stay the tide of life upon which he was floating than he had to check
the racing current which bore him beyond the threatening shoals of the
Old Mill Cove.
What a mill-race the latter was! The man in charge of the launch had by
no means exaggerated it. The little craft, urged by its powerful motor,
surged through the water till the sea washed over its prow, and Ruxton
was forced to shelter beneath the decked-in peak, whence he could
observe the man amidships, who never once desisted from his efforts on
the well pump.
Then, just beyond the jaws of the cove, they entered a stretch of
tumultuous popple where the ebb met the opposing currents along the
coast. Here the boat was tossed about like the proverbial feather, and
to navigate it into the smooth water beyond demanded all the consummate
seamanship of those responsible for its safety.
Then, out of the heart of the grey waters, came the abrupt rising of
the submersible. There was a tremendous swirling and upheaval less than
fifty yards away, and the grey-green monster of the deep reared its
forlorn-looking deck, with its conning-tower, its sealed hatchways, and
its desolate deck rails, above the surface, and lay there, long and low
and as evil-looking as only a mind filled with memories of the late war
could have pictured it.
Two minutes later Ruxton had left the little launch, had stepped aboard
the submersible and passed down the "companion" to the saloon beneath
the flush deck, once more to be greeted by the woman who seemed to have
become so much a part of the new life opening out before him.
Her greeting was cordial.
"I knew you would come," she said, as she left her hand for a moment in
his. Then her grey eyes, so full of warmth, shadowed for a moment. "And
now that you have come I--could almost wish that I had had nothing to
do with it. You see, I haven't the courage of my convictions. I know
they are right, but--I am afraid."
[Illustration: Out of the Heart of the Waters Rose the Submersible.]
When he answered her the influence of the woman was greater than Ruxton
knew.
"You need not be," he said simply. "We are not fighting for ourselves,
so--why fear?"
The woman had no verbal reply. She regarded for one moment the strong
face of the man, and the meaning of that regard was known only to
herself. Had Ruxton possessed more vanity it is possible he might have
read it aright, but vanity with him was so small a quantity as to be
almost negligible.
Again the woman held out her hand.
"The tide will not wait. I must hurry ashore." Then she smiled. "I must
go, too, while the courage your words have momentarily inspired
remains. My father will join you immediately. Good-bye and good----"
"You do not travel with us?"
Ruxton's enquiry was frankly disappointed. The other shook her
beautiful head.
"No woman may venture where you are going. No woman has ever set foot
there. I know it all, as you will understand later, but--no, I return
with the launch. The tide will just serve us. Good-bye and good luck."
Ruxton was left listening to the sound of her footsteps mounting the
companionway. Then, as he heard the door of the conning-tower above
close with a slam, he turned about and sought one of the luxurious
sofas with which the saloon was furnished.
As he sat he swayed gently to the motion of the vessel, and for the
first time became aware of the automatic change to artificial light in
the room. He knew at once that the vessel was returning once more to
those depths whence he had witnessed it emerge. He gazed about him
speculatively. The lights were carefully placed and diffused to prevent
the trying nature of a constant artificial glare.
He became aware of the splendid appointments of the saloon, which was a
fine example of the marine architect's handicraft. The apartment itself
was some twenty feet wide, and he judged it to occupy most of the
vessel's beam. It was probably a similar length. The carpet on which
his feet rested was a rich Turkey. Nor were the rest of the furnishings
essentially of the character of a ship's cabin. True, there was a
centre dining-table bolted to the deck, and the accompanying swinging
chairs, but there was a full grand piano of German make. There were
several comfortably upholstered lounges. There was exquisite plastic
panelling of warm, harmonious tints on the upper parts of the walls and
the ceilings, while the lower walls were clad in polished carved
mahogany. He sought for the source of the daylight which had filled the
room when he first entered, and discovered a great skylight overhead
which was now covered by a metal shield on the outside, which, he
concluded, must close over it automatically with the process of
submerging.
But his further observations were cut short by the abrupt opening of a
door in the mahogany panelling and the entrance of--Mr. Charles Smith.
He came swiftly across the room, his steps giving out no sound upon the
soft carpet.
"Mr. Farlow," he cried, holding out one tenacious hand in greeting,
"you have done me a great honor, sir. You have done me an inestimable
service in coming. I can--only thank you."
But Ruxton was less attentive to his words than to the man. There was a
change in him. A subtle change. He was no longer the enthusiastic
inventor, almost slavishly striving to enlist sympathy for his
invention. There was something about him which suggested command--even
an atmosphere of the autocrat. Perhaps it was that here he was in his
own natural element--the element which he had himself created.
Perhaps----
But he left it at that. It was useless to speculate further. He still
experienced the sense of trust and liking which had been inspired at
their first meeting by the noble forehead and the gentle, luminous
eyes, so like, yet so unlike, those other eyes which so largely filled
his thoughts.
He willingly responded to the extended hand. And the man seemed to
expect no reply, for he went on at once----
"I was in my laboratory when you came aboard. Now I am entirely at your
service."
"Good." Ruxton nodded. "I feel there must be a lot of talk between
us--without delay."
The inventor looked at his watch. Then he pointed at the lounge from
which Ruxton had risen, and seated himself in one of the swivel chairs
at the dining-table.
"We have nearly two hours before supper is served. May I send for some
refreshment for you?"
Ruxton dropped into the seat behind him.
"Thanks, no," he declined, "I dined early--purposely. All I am anxious
for now is--explanation."
The manner in which his eyelids cut flatly across the upper part of the
pupils of his dark eyes gave his gaze a keenly penetrating quality. He
wanted explanation, full and exhaustive explanation. Warnings, and mere
intangible suggestions, no longer carried weight. He must know the
whole thing which the future had to reveal to him.
The white-haired man seemed lost in thought. Again Ruxton noted a
change. The lean face and gentle eyes yielded to something very like an
expression of dejection. It was almost as if the man shrank from the
explanations demanded of him, while yet he knew they must be made.
At length he raised his eyes and regarded his guest with an almost
pathetic smile.
"Explain? Ah, yes. I must explain everything now." He sighed.
"Where--where shall I begin?" He crossed his long legs and strove to
settle himself more comfortably in his chair, while Ruxton waited
without a sign.
"It is hard to explain--all," he said, after a brief pause. "But I know
it must be. Mr. Farlow, can you imagine what it means when a man who
has always regarded his honor and his country's honor before all things
in the world suddenly finds himself called upon to confess that his
country's honor has been outraged by his country, and his own honor has
been outraged by himself? If you can, then perhaps you will understand
my position when explanation is demanded of me."
Ruxton averted the steady regard of his eyes. He did not desire to
witness this man's pain.
"I think I know," he said. Then quite abruptly he changed from the
English language to German, which he spoke with the perfect accent of a
man educated in Frankfurt. "But it may save you much if you begin by
telling me your real name. The name you are known by in--Germany."
A pair of simple, startled eyes gazed back into his.
"Has--Vita--told you?" he demanded.
Ruxton shook his head.
"Then how did you know?"
"Does it matter? I desire to make it easier for you."
For a few moments neither spoke. The artificial light in the room had
merged once more into daylight. There was again the sound of the
opening and shutting of iron doors on deck above them. There were also
the harsh tones of orders being given.
Ruxton knew that it was the return of the launch which had conveyed
this man's daughter ashore, and that it was being taken on board and
stowed within the parent craft. Presently the sounds died away. Once
more the light in the saloon became artificial, and the silent throb of
engines made themselves felt. The journey had begun.
"Well?"
Ruxton had now given himself entirely to the use of the German language.
The inventor cleared his throat
"My name is Stanislaus. Stanislaus, Prince von Hertzwohl."
Ruxton Farlow did not move a muscle. There was not the quiver of an
eyelid, nor one detail of change of expression. Yet he was not unmoved
at the mention of the man's real name. Although he had half expected
it, it came with something very like a shock.
Stanislaus von Hertzwohl! Did he not know it? Did not the whole wide
world know it? Was it not the one name, out of all the great German
names associated with the war, which was anathematized more surely even
than that of the Kaiser himself?
Stanislaus von Hertzwohl! The man who had perfected the German
submarine. The man who had made possible the hideous slaughter of
innocent victims upon the high seas. The man at whose door was laid the
responsibility for that inhuman massacre--the sinking of the
_Lusitania_. The man whom the world believed was the father of every
diabolical engine of slaughter devised to combat his country's enemies.
"Of course, I know the name," he said simply. "Everybody knows it."
His reply seemed to fire the powder train of the Prince's passionate
emotion.
"Ach!" he cried, with a desperately helpless gesture of expressive
hands. "That is it. Everybody! Everybody knows it! They know the name,
but they do not know the truth."
Then, in a moment, the fire of his emotion seemed to die out.
"Mr. Farlow, I want you to know that truth," he went on calmly. "Will
you listen to it now? Will you listen to it with an open mind, or--or
have you already sat in judgment, and, with the rest of an unthinking,
unreasoning world, condemned me?"
Ruxton's thoughts were pacing rapidly with his feelings. They had
travelled swiftly back to that moonlit night upon the Yorkshire cliffs.
To him had come the woman again, so fair, so radiant in her perfect
womanhood, so passionate in her horror of the tragedy of the world war.
These things had been beyond all doubt in their sincerity and truth.
She was this man's daughter. She was loyally supporting her father now.
Then his mind passed on to the scene in the library at Dorby Towers. It
had been his work for years to deal with people whose superficial
presentment was only calculated to cloak real purpose. He had read
these two people out of his experience.
"Judgment is only for those who possess all the facts," he observed
quietly. "Will you continue?"
The decision of his attitude seemed to inspire the white-haired man so
patiently awaiting his reply. He crossed his legs, and, drawing up one
well-shod foot, nursed its ankle in his clasped hands. He was leaning
forward full of an anxious, nervous expression of attitude. It almost
seemed as if his guest's judgment were to him a last straw of hope. The
noble forehead was a-dew with moisture. His bushy eyebrows were sharply
drawn in a great effort of concentration. His eyes, so widely simple,
usually so expressive of childhood's innocence, were now full of a
suffering that was almost overwhelming.
"If I had been guilty of a fraction of that of which the world accuses
me could I have dared, or cared, to approach you with my latest
invention, and--the other proposals? Keep that question in your mind
while I talk. It is so easy to condemn, and, having condemned, reversal
of judgment is well-nigh impossible. If I am guilty it is only of a
patriot's devotion to the country to which _I believed_ I owed
allegiance. That, and an even greater devotion to the problems of
making possible those things which seemed impossible. In not one of the
problems of invention have I ever possessed a motive other than that
which has inspired every engineer engaged upon naval armaments in every
other country. Never in my life have I devised any weapon for the army
other than the monster siege mortar. The liquid fire, the gases, the
dozen and one contrivances for slaughter have found their inception in
other brains than mine. I state these facts simply. You must trust
them, or dismiss them, as you will. I am a marine inventor solely,
except for that one weapon which was legitimate enough--the siege
mortar. You, who understand the nature of marine invention, must
assuredly realize that one man's brain, one man's lifetime are all too
brief and limited to permit a division of his powers with any hope of
success."
He paused as though offering opportunity for comment, but none was
forthcoming. So he went on, his body slightly swaying to and fro, his
eyes assuming a passionate fire that gave to his whole aspect an
atmosphere of vigorous protest.
"I am a Pole," he went on presently. "I am a Pole, born in German
Poland. My parents were poor, but we claim direct descent from the
ancient royal house. Now let me make my own thoughts and feelings clear
to you. I was brought up under German methods, German education. I was
taught, as every child within the German Empire is taught, to believe
that Germany is above and before all the nations of the world, and
that, in the brief life of this earth, nothing else but German national
interests matter to its people. Now mark the obvious result of such a
training. I make no apology. I, beginning life in my father's little
engineering shop, finding myself with an abnormal capacity for
invention, seeking to make for myself and family a competence--what do
I do? I place whatever ability I may possess at the service of Germany.
I devote myself to discovery in the one direction in which official
Germany has looked since the war of 1870.
"The next step comes quickly. It came so quickly that it well-nigh
overbalanced my whole sense of proportion. The problem that appealed to
me was the enormous strength of fortresses being built by our neighbors
against our borders. We were doing the same against theirs. It was
almost a simple problem. I said that if our fortresses were stronger
than theirs, and we possessed a secret weapon which could destroy
theirs, then our empire was safe from invasion for all time. So it came
about that I took plans of my great siege mortars to the authorities.
They were considered, and the guns were ultimately made. On experiment
they proved an instantaneous success, and I was at once given rank and
wealth, and ordered to work on the development of the gun-power of the
Navy. It was this that converted me to marine engineering. From then
onwards my career became one series of triumphs--from Germany's point
of view. Till now, as you know, I have been rewarded with the revival
of an old Polish title, to which by birth I am entitled, and am
placed--as perhaps you do not know--in supreme command of Germany's
naval construction."
There was no atmosphere of triumph in the man's manner. There was no
victorious inspiration in the tones of his voice. With each word which
announced the progress of his triumph an almost painful dejection
seemed to settle more and more heavily upon him.
Still Ruxton refrained from comment. He knew that the vital things had
yet to be told. Nor had he any desire to break up the man's train of
thought. There still remained the tragedy of triumph which this man's
life concealed.
The man's voice came again in level tones which had lost all light and
shade. He spoke like one utterly weary in mind, heart, and body.
"If I had only known," he said, with a dreary shake of his snow-white
head. "But," he added with a shrug, "I did not know. I was blinded by
success, and a passionate devotion to my work." He drew a deep breath.
"But I knew later. Oh, yes. I knew. The greatest triumph and the
greatest disaster of my life was when I converted the paltry little
coast defence submarines into the ocean-going pirates they afterwards
became. But it was not until Germany declared a submarine blockade of
these shores that I knew what I had done. Up to that time I had been
a--German patriot. From that moment I became a simple, heart-broken
human being. My legitimate engines of war had been turned against the
innocent lives of a defenceless people, and when the massacre of
fifteen hundred souls took place with the sinking of the _Lusitania_ I
think for the time I became demented."
He was breathing hard. His face had become almost stony in its
expression. It was the face of a man who for the time is beyond all
further feeling. Quite abruptly, however, he released his hold upon his
foot, and ran his long fingers through his shock of white hair.
"Ach! How willingly would I have undone all I had done. I tried to
resign on various pleas. Health!" He laughed, a hollow, mocking laugh.
"As well try to struggle free from the strangling rope of the hangman
with hands tied. To my horror I found that I belonged body and soul to
Germany, and my rank and wealth was the price the country had paid for
my brains. Oh, yes, I was no honored patriot serving my country. I was
its bond slave, the slave of Prussian militarism. And to the end of my
days that slave I must remain.
"Need I tell you of all the suffering I have since endured? No, I think
not. No repentant murderer could have suffered more for his crimes than
I have done. I have striven, by every possible argument, to assure
myself that mine was not the blame, but no conviction has resulted. The
world cannot blame more cruelly than I do myself, and yet--I am
innocent of all intent.
"Throughout all the struggle I have had with my own soul no glimmer of
light reached me until my daughter came to my rescue. And I think it
was her woman's wit, supported by her own brave heart, which has saved
me. She, in her great pity and love of humanity, started a fresh
thought in the poor brain with which Providence endowed me. It surely
was only a woman's mind could have conceived so simple a solution to my
trouble. It was all done in one brief sentence. She said, 'The brain
that can invent to destroy can invent to save.' And from that moment
hope came to me."
He leant forward urgently. The veins at his temples stood out with the
mental effort of the moment.
"Need I detail the result. I came to you as the only possible person to
help on the work. You were selected after careful thought. I have
warned you of the threat hanging over your country. Now I will show you
the engines of destruction which I have been forced to perfect to
complete the execution of that threat. But I have already shown you my
submersible. You are now on board the constructed vessel, the
development and adoption of which is the only antidote to the devilish
plans of the country to which I belong, plans which are staggering in
their possibilities. They are so simple, yet so vast and terrible when
made against England. Listen: Germany has abandoned all other naval
construction in favor of my new boat--the Submersible Dreadnought. Do
you realize the type? It is a heavily armored vessel with the gun-power
of the surface dreadnought, and its speed, but with all the attributes
of the submarine. A fleet of nominally three hundred is being
constructed. It will be larger by far. In a few years it will be
possible to ring your country round with these lurking machines, each
of which will be capable of engaging successfully any surface war
vessel ever built, while its submarine attributes will render it
practically immune from any combination of force opposed to it. Do you
see? Never again will England, when at war with Germany, be able to
transport her armies abroad. Never again will she be able to feed her
millions of people through overseas channels. Henceforth she will be
driven to peace under any conditions and her mastery of the seas will
pass from her forever."
Ruxton stirred in his seat. He shifted his position. The man's words
had sunk deeply.
"The submersible mercantile marine is certainly the obvious retort," he
said reflectively. Then he added as an afterthought, "Temporarily."
"Yes. Temporarily."
Neither spoke again for some moments. Both were thinking ahead, much
further on than the immediate future.
"And after the submersible dreadnought?" Ruxton's question was not
addressed to the inventor, but it was answered by him.
"Who can tell? One of these two countries must go under."
"Yes."
Again came a prolonged silence. Again Ruxton shifted his position. Then
at last he spoke.
"And you will show me these things. The risk will be stupendous--for
you."
Prince Stanislaus laughed without a shadow of mirth.
"For me it is just a matter of life and death. Life has few attractions
for me now. For you? My power is sufficient to safeguard you. Shall I
show you how?"
Ruxton nodded. His penetrating gaze was again fixed upon the almost
cadaverous features with their snow-white crown and noble forehead.
"Yes," he said.
Prince Stanislaus began at once. And talk went on between them for many
minutes. For the most part Ruxton listened, as was his way, and only
occasionally interpolated a shrewd, incisive question. His dark,
penetrating eyes were watchful and studying. And no change of
expression in the other was lost upon him.
Slowly within him there grew a wide admiration for the mentality and
courage in this strangely simple creature. He read him down to the
remotest depths of his honest soul. Wherever Prince Stanislaus's
devotion to his life's work had led him, there was no shadow of doubt
left in the Englishman's mind as to his present sincerity and honesty
of purpose.
When the last detail of the plan had been explained Ruxton stood up.
"The judgment of the world is rarely inspired by justice," he said. "I
thank you, and will gladly place myself under your guidance. Since the
opportunity of discovering the secrets of Kiel and Cuxhaven has been
vouchsafed to me I should be far less than the patriot I desire to be
did I shirk the risks. My duty is quite plain."
The relief and satisfaction his words inspired in the other were
obvious.
"I thank you," he said earnestly. "You have helped me to that peace
which I have long sought and I had come to believe could never again be
mine in this life. But----"
"But?"
The man was smiling.
"But we do not go to either Kiel or Cuxhaven."
Ruxton was startled.
"Where then?" he demanded shortly.
"To the Baltic. Mr. Farlow, you have no idea of the subtlety of the
people with whom we are dealing. All eyes of the world are on Cuxhaven
and Kiel. Every vulture of the foreign secret services is hovering over
those places, and the forges and foundries are working to deceive them.
But the real work and preparations I speak of are not being made in
Germany at all. We go to the Baltic, to the island of Borga, which is
off the coast of Sweden. And there we shall find under German
administration a naval 'Krupps,' and the greatest arsenal in the whole
world."