THE CAPTURE OF THE _CAP HOORN_
"SHEER off!" shouted Captain Cain, leaning over the bridge-rails and
directing the full blast of his powerful voice upon the still
unknown craft alongside. "Stand clear; we're going full ahead in
half a shake."
"Hang on a minute, Cap'n!" replied Broadmayne. "There are only two
of us--survivors of the yacht _Ibex_, burnt late last night. If you
won't take us on board you might give us some grub and water. We're
famished and horribly cold, you know."
Captain Cain made a brief mental review of the situation, as far as
he knew of the facts. He was not a soft-hearted man--far from it.
There would be very little risk to the occupants of the boat if they
remained adrift for a few hours longer. They were bound to be picked
up by some of the up- and down-Channel traffic. He could provide
them with a few provisions and then go ahead.
On the other hand, he was quite in the dark as to what the two men
in the boat had seen or heard. It was much too early for the _Alerte_
to reveal her true character, that of a submarine pirate craft. And
it was very disconcerting when he, the captain, was congratulating
himself that, the _Alerte_ had been armed and had gone through
additional diving tests under cover of darkness, to find a boat
lying alongside with two persons in her who might be remarkably cute
in spotting anything out of the ordinary at sea.
The simplest solution was to drop a pig of ballast through the
bottom of the boat and leave the two men to their fate. They
couldn't keep afloat very long in the open Channel in November. On
their own admission, they were cold and famished. They'd sink within
five minutes.
But the suggestion was dismissed as quickly as it had been formed.
Captain Cain was strongly opposed to taking life wantonly, whether
it be man or beast. If occasion arose with sufficient justification
for his point of view, the pirate captain would shoot down any one
in cold blood or otherwise. Again, he had pledged himself to his
crew, and for the present it was policy to abide by his plighted
word, that he was against performing any violent act against the
crews of British ships, and were not these two men British survivors
of a disaster?
And, judging by the tone of the man who had spoken, one of the
survivors was some one of good, possibly high birth. In any case,
the pair might prove useful additional hands to the _Alerte's_
complement. If they wouldn't, well he'd make them. There was also
the chance that the distressed mariners might be people of social
standing and wealth. Then there would be a good opportunity to
demand ransom. Coming on top of the Chamfer incident, Captain Cain
decided such a possibility seemed no probability. He would be lucky,
indeed, if he could repeat his previous success in that direction.
All this flashed through the ready brain of the pirate captain in a
very few seconds. Quickly he made up his mind.
"Come aboard!" he said briefly.
One of the hands caught the dinghy's painter. A rope ladder was
lowered down the perpendicular side of the _Alerte_, and with a final
effort to control their cramped limbs, Vyse and Broadmayne contrived
to reach the deck of the pirate submarine.
"Take them below!" ordered Captain Cain from the height of the
bridge. "Tell Davis to serve them with a good hot meal. They can
berth for'ard."
With his head swimming and his knees giving way under him, Rollo
Vyse was glad to have the assistance of a couple of the crew to take
him below. Broadmayne, although feeling decidedly groggy, still
retained sufficient alertness of mind to take stock of his immediate
surroundings as far as the first streaks of red dawn permitted.
The steel deck littered with kelp and seaweed was in itself
suspicious, unless the vessel were a trawler and had just emptied
her nets on deck. But there was not the peculiar smell that steam
trawlers cannot get away from.
Directly the Sub found himself below, he knew.
"By Jove!" he soliloquised. "She's a sub marine."
In spite of his hunger and fatigue, Broadmayne puzzled his brains
over the strange situation. What was a submarine, disguised as a
surface ship, doing in the Channel? Her officers and crew were not
in naval uniform, although several of them had unmistakable
indications of having served under the white ensign. The owner,
especially, had the cut of a _pukka_ naval man.
"Perhaps she's a new type of Q-ship," he thought. "If the manoeuvres
were on, I could understand it. Won't it be a joke if she is a
mystery ship; and won't the owner feel a bit sick when he finds he's
harbouring an inquisitive Sub on board his hooker? Like his
confounded cheek, though, making us mess and berth for'ard."
Soon the two chums were sitting down to a hot, substantial meal.
They were not alone. The crew's quarters in which they were
sheltering was occupied by the best part of the watch below, about a
dozen rather smart and alert men, older than the usual run of naval
ratings. The Sub noticed that, without exception, they looked a bit
tired and fatigued, consequently he was not surprised to find that
his attempts to broach a conversation were resolutely, yet politely,
rebuffed. Foiled in that direction, Broadmayne tried to pick up the
threads of the scanty scraps of conversation. Again he was foiled.
Every sentence he overheard had no bearing upon life on board.
"Shop" in the crew's quarter seemed to be taboo.
He glanced at Vyse. Rollo, having made a good meal, was leaning back
on the settee with his eyes closed. The problem offered no
difficulties to the owner of the burnt-out _Ibex_, for the simple
reason that he was comfortably dozing.
The Sub looked at the clock in the bulkhead. It was a quarter-past
eight. Although it was day, no natural light penetrated the interior
of the hull. The submarine was running on the surface. The pulsation
of the internal combustion engines proved that.
A man clad in blue cloth trousers, sweater and sea-boots entered the
compartment and began to remove the empty plates.
"Had a good tuck in, chum?" he inquired. "All right--best turn in
for a spell. There's your bunks, blankets and all. Captain won't
want to see you afore three bells in the second dog."
"Thank you," replied Broadmayne. He, too, was feeling drowsy.
Perhaps it was the heat of the confined space. He touched Vyse on
the shoulder.
"Turn in, old man!" he exclaimed.
"What for?" demanded his chum rebelliously; then his desire to
sleep dominated all other inclinations. Merely kicking off his
rubber-boots, Vyse turned in all standing. The Sub followed his
example, and a couple of minutes later both men were lost in heavy,
dreamless slumber.
Meanwhile Captain Cain, whose almost unbounded energy could keep him
going at high pressure for thirty-six hours without any desire for
sleep, was standing on the bridge of the _Alerte_ as she stood
southward at eight knots.
He was at the wheel. With the exception of one mechanic standing by
the Diesel motors, all hands were enjoying a few hours' well-earned
rest. Shortly after the crew of the _Ibex_ had been taken on board, a
wireless message had been picked up that gave Captain Cain an
inspiration upon which he determined to act.
The wireless message was from the Norddeutscher-Lloyd intermediate
boat _Cap Hoorn_, to the Ushant signalling-station, reporting that
she was ninety miles W. by S. of Ushant, homeward bound from Bremen.
Already the pirate captain had "looked her up" in the shipping
register. He found that the _Cap Hoorn_ was a vessel of 8500 tons,
with a speed of fifteen knots. Coming from Buenos Ayres and Rio, she
would be certain to have a valuable cargo. It was a risky business
to hold her up, but Captain Cain, having weighed the pros and cons,
decided to intercept her.
At noon the _Alerte's_ crew were roused. Preparations were immediately
started to disguise the ship. The funnel was given a different
coloured coat of paint; the masts, previously light brown with black
above the hounds, were painted a uniform shade of dark grey. The
bridge and funnel were bodily shifted twenty feet aft, and the
position of the ventilating cowls altered. Finally, on both bows and
astern the name _Alerte_ was covered by strips of painted cloth
bearing the name _Cimeterre_, and the French tricolour hoisted aft.
"I'm going to put the breeze up a Hun, my lads," he announced.
"She's now on her way up-Channel. She's a lump of a boat, but we'll
get her. Remember that for this occasion you're Frenchmen. When we
board her, keep your mouths shut and let Mr. Pengelly grease his
jaw-tackle. He can speak French like a native and German quite
enough to make himself understood. I'm not going to hurt Fritz more
than I can help. It depends upon himself. If she heaves to, as I
expect she'll do, Mr. Pengelly will take half a dozen hands, all
armed, and see what's of use to us----"
"Sail on the starboard beam, sir!" shouted the look-out man. "Black
hull, white top-hamper, two funnels all yellow."
"That's our pigeon," declared Pengelly; then noticing his partner
glare, he hastened to add the previously omitted "sir."
"Very good, Mr. Pengelly," sang out the captain. "Tell off your
boat's crew in readiness. Fall in, Q. F. numbers; signalman, stand
by and hoist the I. D."
The _Alerte_ and the _Cap Hoorn_ were approaching almost at right angles
to each other's course. As the positions of the ships went, the
_Alerte_ would bring the German's port side on her starboard bow, in
which case, under the "Rules and Regulations for Preventing
Collisions at Sea," the former had to give way.
Nearer and nearer came the huge Norddeutscher-Lloyd vessel, showing
the "bone in her jaw" as she flung out a tremendous bow-wave.
Unswervingly, both vessels held on. The _Cap Hoorn_ blew a warning
blast on her syren.
"Hard-a-starboard!" ordered Captain Cain, at the same time motioning
the alert signalman. Round swept the _Alerte_, until she was on a
parallel course to that of her victim. The screens concealing the
quick-firer were lowered and the muzzle of the weapon swung round.
Simultaneously the signal I. D. (Heave-to, or I will fire into you)
was hoisted; followed, without waiting for the _Cap Hoorn's_ reply, by
LDA--ZMX (Disconnect your wireless apparatus).
The two vessels were now roughly four hundred yards apart. Through
his binoculars, Captain Cain observed with considerable satisfaction
that the German officers and men were in a state of panic, while the
passengers, guessing that something was amiss but ignorant of the
true state of affairs, crowded to the side.
The pirate captain rang for full speed ahead. Almost immediately,
the pulsations of the motors increased, and the _Alerte_ quickly
attained her maximum speed, equal to that of the _Cap Hoorn_.
Still the latter showed no sign of stopping her engines. From her
bridge a three flag hoist went up.
"WCX, sir!" reported the _Alerte's_ signalman, as he rapidly turned
over the pages of the Code Book, adding as he discovered the
message, "Signals not understood, though flags are distinguished."
"More bluff!" ejaculated Captain Cain. "I'll send 'em a message that
won't bear misunderstanding. Captain of the gun!" he continued,
raising his voice. "Give her one above the waterline. Knock her
rudder-head to smithereens."
The quick-firer spat viciously. Considering the gun-layer had had no
previous experience with that particular type of weapon, the result
was highly creditable to his professional skill.
The projectile struck the _Cap Hoorn_ about ten feet for'ard of the
rudder and about four feet above the waterline. It made a clean hole
where it entered, but of the devastating effect of the explosive
shell there was little doubt. Splinters and slivers of metal flew
high in the air. Flames and smoke poured from a jagged hole in the
poop. The red, white and black ensign, its staff shattered by the
explosion, was whisked fifty yards astern.
Twenty seconds later the _Cap Hoorn's_ propellers were going astern;
but owing to the rudder-head being pulverised, the massive rudder
swung hard over to starboard. Slowly her head began to pay off
towards her antagonist. Men armed with fire extinguishers and hoses
were seen running aft. With indecorous haste another German
mercantile ensign was hoisted and as promptly lowered in token of
surrender.
"Look alive, Mr. Pengelly!" exclaimed the pirate captain. "You know
your orders?"
"Ay, ay, sir," was the reply.
A boat was lowered. Into it went Pengelly and half a dozen men, all
armed with automatic pistols. By this time Captain Cain had got way
off his ship, the two vessels being now about a cable's length
apart.
The boat's crew gave way with a will, their comrades, with the
exception of the men at the quick-firer, crowding to the side to
watch their progress.
"Mr. Barnard!" shouted Captain Cain.
The bo's'un doubled aft and saluted.
"What's that man doing on deck?" inquired the skipper angrily,
pointing to Gerald Broadmayne, who, unobserved by the hands on deck,
had come up from below and was watching the unusual sight.
"Dunno, sir," replied Mr. Barnard helplessly. "Both of 'em were
sound asleep when last I looked in."
As a matter of fact, the bo'sun, in the excitement of the one-sided
enjoyment, had completely forgotten about the presence of the two
strangers on board. He had omitted to lock the door between the
men's quarters and the vestibule immediately underneath the base of
the conning-tower.
"All right, let him alone," decided Captain Cain, as he reflected
grimly that now the cat was out of the bag, his involuntary guests
would have to remain on board at all costs, until the termination of
the cruise, wherever and whenever it might be.
"So that's the game, is it?" thought the Sub. His searching eyes
quickly took in the evidence of the incriminating surroundings--the
quick-firer trained abeam, with a still smoking shell-case lying
close to the mounting; the French ensign floating over a vessel
whose crew were British and, for the most part, West-country folk;
the men all armed with automatic pistols; least and not last a
boarding party on their way to the disabled German liner.
"Piracy--out and out piracy."
Like those of the _Alerte's_ crew who remained on board, Broadmayne
found his interest centre on the boat containing Pengelly and his
armed companions.
Before the boat had ranged up alongside the _Cap Hoorn_, the German
crew had lowered the accommodation-ladder.
Headed by Pengelly, the boarders ran up the ladder. At the gangway
they were met by the captain and several of the officers of the
captured vessel; while gathered at a respectful distance were about
thirty of the crew and those of the passengers whose curiosity had
overcome their timidity.
There was no sign of resistance. Pengelly, escorted by the German
captain, disappeared from view, three of his men following him. The
others, with the exception of the boat-keeper, drove the passengers
and crew for'ard like a flock of sheep.
"No guts!" soliloquised Broadmayne scornfully. "Can you imagine a
British ship with that sized crew chucking up the sponge? They'd
rush the blighters even if they only had broomsticks."
Presently one of the _Alerte's_ boarders at the head of the
accommodation-ladder held up a small white flag. It was a
pre-arranged signal. As long as it remained held aloft, it indicated
that the looters were having things all their own way. Should the
Germans turn upon their captors, the white flag would be dropped.
Then, and only then, would the _Alerte's_ quick-firer pump shell after
shell into the huge target presented by the motionless _Cap Hoorn_.
Twice there came the dull report of an explosion. The crew of the
quick-firer tautened, the captain of the gun looking inquiringly at
the imperturbable figure on the _Alerte's_ bridge. But Captain Cain
gave no sign. The white hand-flag was still conspicuously displayed
at the gangway of the prize. Occasionally he swept the horizon with
his binoculars, ready at the first sign of an approaching craft to
recall his merry men and seek safety in flight.
An hour and ten minutes after the boat had pushed off from the
_Alerte_, Pengelly descended the _Cap Hoorn's_ accommodation-ladder. The
boat, heavily laden, headed back to her degenerate parent and was
hoisted up in davits.
"Well?" inquired Captain Cain laconically.
"Skinned 'em, sir," replied Pengelly, with a broad grin.