It must not be supposed that the Germans thereupon ceased fire. By
no means. An unarmed and unmanageable British steamer wallowing
helplessly in the swell presented a fine opportunity for a display of
"frightfulness"; therefore, on general principles, they let drive a
couple of shots at close range. These shells hulled the _Glenholme_
forward on the waterline, and she commenced to sink slowly by the head.
Having accomplished her work, the submarine came close alongside and
stopped, with her gun trained point-blank on the stricken vessel. The
German commander, a stout-built man with bristly hair, emerged from his
conning-tower. He was evidently very angry.
"Vy didn't you stop before?" he yelled. "I haf used plenty of petrol to
catch you."
"I'm sorry about your petrol," suavely replied Groome.
"Vell now, hurry up and get your boats lowered!" shouted the Teuton. "I
gif you ten minutes to leave--no more."
The crew of the submarine, armed with rifles, stood on their foredeck
and watched the _Glenholme's_ men abandon ship. Some ten minutes later
three boats containing all hands--thirty-four all told--had shoved
clear of the sinking craft.
"Now," said the submarine commander to Mr. Bolt, who was in charge of
Number Three lifeboat, "I vant to make use of your boat for a little
time. So crowd your men into the other two boats, and shove Number
Three alongside my craft. Hurry up, now, or I gif the order to fire."
There being no help for it, Mr. Bolt and his men had perforce to do as
they were told. When the empty boat was pushed alongside the submarine
half-a-dozen Germans sprang into her and boarded the _Glenholme_, which
vessel was now deep down by the head, but still sinking slowly.
The Germans looted from their prize whatever took their fancy, while
that vessel's crew sat in the other two lifeboats and watched the
piratical proceedings with considerable displeasure. One man in
particular, a stoker who hailed from Limehouse, became extremely
indignant. Like the rest of the _Glenholme's_ men, he had hurried
to the boats with little beside the clothes he stood in. His other
belongings had been left in the forecastle, and he had to some extent
resigned himself to their loss; but when he saw some of his property in
the hands of the Huns he could not restrain his anger.
"The dirty thieves!" he yelled. "They've got me brand-new bowler 'at
and me gramophone." Then, outspoken and fluent, the Londoner stood
upright in the boat and gave the enemy his kind wishes.
"I don't wish yer no harm, blow yer!" said he. "I don't want yer to
get sunk, nor even captured by a British cruiser. Oh, no. I only wants
yer blighted ole submarine to fall foul of a steamer's bow some dark
night and get capsized. Then I hopes she'll float around for a month
bottom up, with the whole crowd of yer standin' on yer bloomin' heads
and yellin' 'Gott strafe England' until you choke."
Undoubtedly there were several Germans on board the submarine who
understood English well enough to gather the gist of the irate
stoker's remarks. They looked very ugly as they fingered their rifles
and glanced towards their officer for instructions; most probably the
Londoner ran a grave risk of paying for his temerity with his life.
It happened, however, that at this moment smoke was descried in the
distance. The German commander levelled his binocular glasses and took
a long look at it. Apparently this column of grey smoke caused him
some uneasiness. Full well he knew the rapidity with which, during the
hazy weather, a destroyer could appear on the scene and open fire. He
was evidently a cautious Teuton, for he gave a short, guttural order,
he and his men descended into the submarine, and she dived below the
surface, and so out of this story. How and when the piratical career of
this particular U-boat came to a sudden end cannot now be chronicled.