THE FATE OF THE PIRATE SUBMARINE
"BY the mark seven... Less a quarter... By the deep six!" chanted
the leadsman, as the _Canvey_ approached the bar.
"Starboard! Meet her at that!" ordered the lieutenant-commander,
telegraphing for speed to be still further reduced. "Any signs of
armed resistance?"
"No, sir," replied Broadmayne; for now that the _Alerte_ had swung
through eight points, her quickfirer could be seen from the bridge
of the _Canvey_. "The poor bounders have got the wind up badly," he
added.
"They'll get it worse, if they don't chuck up the sponge," rejoined
Raxworthy. "By Jove! If they don't strike that Jolly Roger there'll
be trouble. For'ard starboard gun, there! One round at the enemy's
bows!"
The shell, a seven-pounder, shrieked as it sped on its errand of
destruction. A flash, a cloud of black smoke and a shower of pieces
of metal announced that the missile had accomplished its work.
Practically the whole of the for'ard superstructure of the pirate
submarine had vanished.
"Black flag's struck, sir!" announced the gunnery-lieutenant.
"They're doing the 'arms up' stunt," supplemented another of the
group of officers on the _Canvey's_ bridge.
The _Alerte_ was losing way rapidly. A solitary figure appeared on the
hitherto deserted bridge.
"We--surrender," came the semaphored message.
"Wise men," commented Raxworthy, as he faced aft to order away the
boats containing the prize-crew.
"She's submerging, sir!" exclaimed Broadmayne.
The lieutenant-commander turned abruptly. He was about to order
every gun able to bear upon the pirate submarine to open fire, when
he observed that men were leaping overboard in a state of
uncontrollable panic. That altered matters. Had the crew of the
_Alerte_ been at diving stations, he would not have hesitated to
hasten her departure by means of half a dozen high-explosive shells.
The fact that the pirates were swimming for dear life in a
shark-infested sea, compelled him to stay his hand.
"Away lifeboat's crews!"
To the shrill trill of the bo'sun's mate's whistle the bluejackets
rushed to man the boats. The excitement of the chase had vanished;
in its place was the whole-hearted eagerness to save life.
The _Alerte_ disappeared with very little noise or commotion. Although
the water was considerably disturbed, there was hardly any suction.
The swimmers, although impeded by their cumbersome cork lifebelts,
had little difficulty in getting clear of her as she submerged.
"What's young Maynebrace doing?" asked the lieutenant-commander as
the loud report of a revolver rang out, followed by three shots in
rapid succession.
Broadmayne, also attracted by the reports, saw the midshipman in
charge of the second cutter standing up in the stern-sheets and
firing apparently at some of the swimmers. Apparently several of the
pirates thought that they were about to be shot as they swam, for
they turned and began to strike out away from the rescuing boats.
There was a wild, almost unearthly shriek. One of the wretched men
threw up his arms and disappeared. A patch of blood appeared on the
surface over the spot where he had vanished. Again Midshipman
Maynebrace fired, his objective being the head of an enormous shark,
just as the monster turned on its back to seize another victim.
Right amidst the straggling crowd of swimmers dashed the two boats,
their crews engaged between dealing spanking blows with the blades
of their oars upon the water, and hauling the terrified pirates over
the gunwales.
Cain had revenged himself upon his mutinous crew. Only fifteen
escaped the jaws of the ferocious tigers of the deep, and these were
almost mad with the horror of the scene.
Among those who fell victims to the sharks was Marchant the gunner.
Pengelly, wearing only a shirt and trousers, was one of the
survivors. His hair had turned white during his desperate swim.
The late second in command of the _Alerte_ hardly hoped to pass
himself off as one of the ratings of the pirate submarine. He
realised that he was far from being popular with the crew. Sooner or
later they would "give him away." But the attempt was worth trying.
As he came over the side of the _Canvey_ he was interrogated by a
stern-faced lieutenant, who demanded his name and rating.
"Smith, Tom--deck-hand," he replied.
The _Canvey's_ officer noted the particulars without comment. Pengelly
went for'ard under arrest, ignorant of the fact that Sub-Lieutenant
Gerald Broadmayne was watching him from the bridge.
"There's no sign of Cain, sir," remarked the Sub to the owner. "That
fellow just gone for'ard is Pengelly. Marchant the gunner and
Barnard the bo'sun don't appear to be present."
"Hang it all!" ejaculated Raxworthy, "you don't suggest that three
of the pirate officers, including the ringleader, are still on board
the submarine? Pass the word to Mr. Hamley to send Pengelly to the
quarter-deck under an armed guard."
The lieutenant on the gangway received the message. Consulting the
list he had made, he found that no one answering to that name had
been received on board. He sent a message to that effect to the
captain.
After considerable delay, Pengelly was found and brought aft. The
moment he saw Broadmayne standing behind the lieutenant-commander,
he knew that the game was up as far as concealing his identity was
concerned.
"Where's Cain?" demanded Raxworthy, without any preliminaries.
Pengelly explained what had occurred, spinning an elaborate yarn
that he had done his utmost to persuade Captain Cain to surrender,
and trying to excuse himself for having ever set foot on board the
_Alerte_.
The lieutenant-commander brought him up with a round turn.
"Enough of that!" he said sternly. "Where is the gunner of the
_Alerte_?"
Pengelly shook his head. That was a question that he could not
answer. He was still unaware of the fate of Mr. Marchant.
"And the bo'sun--Barnard, I believe, is his name?" continued
Raxworthy.
Again Pengelly let his tongue run riot, dwelling on Barnard's action
in siding with Cain and going below with him.
"For what reason?" asked the lieutenant-commander.
"Cain will probably try to bring the _Alerte_ to the surface when he
thinks the coast is clear," replied Pengelly readily enough.
"Two men cannot do that," interrupted Raxworthy.
"There may be more," rejoined the pirate. "I remember two hands at
least going below. I did not see them come on deck again. Please
remember, sir, I've done my best to answer your questions. I
deeply regret----"
"Remove the prisoner," said Raxworthy sternly.
He waited until Pengelly had been taken for'ard, then he turned to
Broadmayne.
"I suppose you are quite certain that the _Alerte_ hasn't electrical
propelling machinery?" he asked.
"There was none when I was on board, sir," replied the Sub.
"I don't suppose four men will be able to disconnect the clutches
and turn the propellers sufficiently to make the submarine move,"
remarked Raxworthy, half-seriously, half-jokingly. "She's there
right enough. Well, I've given Cain a fair chance; he wouldn't
accept it. What happens now is his funeral, not mine."
Raxworthy returned to the bridge. It was now about an hour before
sunset. The sheltered bay was as smooth as a millpond. There was
nothing to indicate that the elusive pirate submarine lay ten
fathoms deep except a small mark-buoy that had been placed over the
spot where the _Alerte_ had disappeared.
His orders were plain enough--to capture or destroy. He had done his
best to carry out the first part of his instructions. Cain had
foiled him in that direction by submerging. Short of powerful
salvage craft and plant there was no means of bringing the submarine
to the surface and then effecting her capture. The _Canvey_ could
wireless to Gibraltar dockyard for the necessary gear, but
days--weeks perhaps--would elapse before the cumbersome salvage
lighters could be towed to Bahia Arenas. There was no help for it
but to act upon the second alternative--to destroy.
"There's one consolation," soliloquised the lieutenant-commander,
"the poor brutes won't know much about it. It's a quick end."
Slowly the _Canvey_ turned until her bows pointed nearly end-on to the
mark-buoy. On the starboard side of the poop was a squat-looking
object somewhat resembling the old-time siege mortar, its wide
muzzle grinning upwards at an elevation of forty-five degrees. The
weapon--a depth-charge projector--was loaded with a missile set to
explode at sixty feet beneath the surface.
"All ready, Mr. Garnett?" sang out the lieutenant-commander to the
gunner who was in charge of the apparatus.
"Ay, ay, sir!"
The engine-room telegraph bell clanged. Almost immediately the
_Canvey_ increased speed. The mark-buoy bore abeam, a cable's length
to starboard.
_Crash_! went the propelling charge.
Like a gigantic salmon-tin, the missile described its parabolic
flight--so slowly that observers on the bridge could see the huge
canister turning over and over in mid-air.
It struck the water with a resounding thud, flinging up a shower of
spray. Already the _Canvey_ under fifteen degrees of starboard helm
was rapidly increasing her distance from the mark-buoy. Slowly the
intervening seconds passed; so slowly that Broadmayne began to think
the fuse of the depth-charge had proved defective.
Then came a truly stupendous roar. A slender column of water was
hurled quite two hundred feet in the air. The hull of the _Canvey_
shook under the terrific blast of displaced air. The tranquil waters
of the bay were transformed into a mass of agitated waves.
The column of upheaved water fell with a loud hissing noise. For
nearly half a minute the turmoil continued. Then, in the midst of
the maelstrom, appeared a patch of calm, iridescent oil spreading
steadily in all directions, while multitudes of fish, killed or
stunned by the detonation, floated belly-upwards upon the surface.
"Away, diving-party," ordered Captain Raxworthy.
"With your permission, sir, I would like to accompany the divers,
sir," said Broadmayne.
"Are you qualified?" asked the lieutenant-commander.
"Yes, sir," replied the Sub. "I did a diving-course at Whaley when I
paid off from the _Arcturus_, and I've been down to fourteen
fathoms."
"Very good," was the rejoinder.
Broadmayne saluted and went off to make the necessary preparations.
The _Canvey_ was equipped with two types of diving dresses, both
designed and made by the firm of Siebe, Gorman & Co. One was of the
common variety, in which the air is pumped through a pipe from a
pump above the surface of the sea. The other was of the
self-contained type; the air supply, judiciously combined with
oxygen, is contained in cylinders strapped to the back of the diver.
Thus he is independent of air-tubes, life-lines and other
contrivances likely to impede his movements.
The Sub chose the latter type of dress. The depth in which the
_Alerte_ had sunk was between fifty and sixty feet at low water, the
maximum distance below the surface at which the self-contained
diving-suit can be used without undue risk.
One of the seaman-divers was already being garbed in a similar suit
by his attendants; the other man was preparing to don a dress with
lifeline and air-tube, the helmet being provided with a telephone by
means of which he could engage in conversation with the above-water
party in the boat.
The descent was to be made as speedily as possible before more
sharks appeared upon the scene of the wreck to feast on the bodies
of their less fortunate kind who had been killed by the explosion.
Nevertheless, Broadmayne and his companions were warned to keep a
sharp look-out while under the surface. As a rule, a shark will
hesitate to attack a diver, but there have been instances in which a
terrible submarine struggle has taken place between a diver and the
tigers of the deep.
The diving-boats pushed off and anchored fore and aft as close as
desirable to the wreck. The diver with the air-tube type of dress
was the first to descend, sliding at a steady pace down the
shot-rope.
A tug on the life-line gave the attendants warning that the man had
reached the bottom. "Ready, sir?" asked a petty officer.
"Right," replied Broadmayne.
The glass plate in the front of his helmet was screwed home. He was
now cut off from the outside world as far as the air supply was
concerned, and the sensation was not a pleasant one.
Unlike the first man to descend, whose helmet had been closed only
when he was waist-deep in water, the Sub had to be finally equipped
while in the boat. Assisted by the attendants--for his movements
were hampered by the weight of his helmet, chemical-containers,
chest and back weights, and leaden-soled boots, the whole amounting
to 190 lb.--Broadmayne scrambled awkwardly and ponderously over the
gunwale, grasped the shot-line used by his predecessor and began the
descent.
In spite of the weight of the dress in air, it now had so little
weight in water that the Sub had no difficulty in retarding the
downward movement. Even the inconvenience caused by the unaccustomed
air supply passed away after a few seconds.
Presently his leaden-soled feet touched the bed of the Bahia Arenas
so lightly that he could hardly credit that he was standing on a
floor of hard sand. So transparent was the water that he had no
difficulty in seeing objects five or six yards off, all grotesquely
distorted and exaggerated.
Grasping the second of the three distance lines, the Sub commenced
his submarine walk, following the cord that the first diver had paid
out. Evidently the man had not erred in his sense of direction, for
the line lay motionless on the sandy floor. All around were pieces
of jagged steel-plating, copper pipes and other débris from the
ill-fated _Alerte_.
Presently an enormous dark grey mass loomed up in front. It was the
hull of the pirate submarine. The seaman-diver, with bubbles rising
from his helmet, was standing by. His job lay outside the hull;
Broadmayne's and that of the third diver, inside.
In less than two minutes the third member of the party appeared. The
first man, turning to reassure himself that his air-tube and
life-line were clear of the jagged plates, worked round towards the
stern. It was here that the full force of the powerful depth-charge
had expended itself. Thirty feet or more of the after-portion of the
submarine had been completely blown apart, together with most of the
propelling machinery. There was not the slightest doubt about the
destruction of the after-part of the submarine. It remained to be
seen whether the water-tight bulkhead separating the motor-room from
the 'midship and fore compartment had withstood the strain.
Signing to his similarly-equipped companion to follow him,
Broadmayne clambered up the sloping side of the considerably-listing
vessel. The ease with which he performed this feat rather surprised
him.
Once again the Sub trod the deck--or, rather, what remained of the
deck of the _Alerte_. The bridge had disappeared and the whole of the
bulwarks and deck aft, leaving bare a full fifty feet of the
massively-built submarine hull to where it terminated abruptly in a
jagged edge of twisted steel. Most of the raised fo'c'sle had been
blown away by shell-fire before the _Alerte_ submerged, but between
the rise of the fo'c'sle and the conning-tower, which was
practically intact, the false deck was still in position.
Making his way to the forehatch--it was originally the
torpedo-hatch--Broadmayne tried to open it. Being secured from
below, the metal cover resisted his efforts. Foiled in that
direction, the Sub retraced his steps to the conning-tower hatchway.
As he did so, a dark object above the rail attracted his attention.
It was Cain's ensign--the skull and cross-bones--still lashed to a
boathook. When the _Alerte_ submerged, the natural tendency of the ash
stave was to float, but the metal hook engaging in one of the
shrouds of the housed foremast had held it down. Even the explosion
of the depth-charge had failed to dislodge it.
Drawing his knife, Broadmayne cut the emblem of piracy adrift and
secured it to his belt. Then he resumed his investigations.
The conning-tower was also secured and clipped from the inside. Was
it possible, he wondered, that Cain and his companions were still
alive in the apparently intact and air-tight for'ard compartment of
the hull? Going aft, the Sub lowered himself cautiously over the
riven edge of the hull-plating, lest a sharp projection should
penetrate his inflated dress. Then, signing to his fellow-diver to
remain, he switched on his submarine electric lamp and crept forward
inside the hull.
The first twenty feet or so was greatly encumbered with wreckage,
but on passing through the transverse bulkhead, the watertight door
of which had been blown inwards, Broadmayne found that there was
little damage done to the 'midships section.
As a matter of precaution and to save negotiating the debris-strewn
motor-room again, the Sub unclipped and threw open the conning-tower
hatch. Then proceeding for'ard he found that the door between the
'midships section and the bow compartment was wide open. It swung
freely on its hinges, although the straining the hull had received
made it impossible for the usually close-fitting door to close.
In the bow compartment, Broadmayne searched diligently for the
bodies of Cain and his companions, but without success. Then he came
to the door of the air-lock, by which a man in a diving suit could
leave the submarine when the vessel was lying on the bottom. The
door was shut. Usually six diving suits and twenty-four life-saving
helmets were ranged along the bulkhead. The latter were there,
jammed against the curved roof under the deck, but four of the
self-contained diving-dresses were absent.
Prising back the locking-gear of the door of the air-lock the Sub
entered the compartment. It was, as he expected, empty, but the
hinged flap on the outside hull-plating was open.
Captain Cain had made a bid for life and freedom. Whether he had
succeeded or had been caught by the explosion before he had got well
clear of the ship remains an unsolved problem.
There was no need for further investigation. Broadmayne returned to
his companions by means of the conning-tower hatchway. Together they
dropped over the side and found the other diver waiting by the
distance cords.
In single file, the man with the air-tube leading as the attendants
in the boat slowly heaved in his air-tube and lifeline, the three
made their way to the shot-rope.
Then came the tedious ascent. To go up quickly and without a pause
was not to be thought of. The great risk of being killed by
excessive blood-pressure on the brain had to be guarded against.
Slowly Broadmayne was hoisted, kept hanging for several minutes and
then hoisted a few feet more, until at length he felt himself being
grasped under the arms and assisted into the boat. Then his helmet
glass removed, he sat and gasped, gratefully inhaling copious
draughts of fresh air.
As soon as the other divers were in the boat the anchors were
weighed and a course shaped for the _Canvey_, which was steaming
slowly in wide circles round the scene of the wreck.
"Satisfactory job?" inquired Raxworthy laconically.
"After-part blown clean away, sir," replied Broadmayne. "All the
other compartments are full of water."
"Any signs of bodies?"
"No, sir."
"Did you see any?" inquired the lieutenant-commander, turning to the
seamen-divers.
"No, sir," answered the man who used the air-tube pattern dress. "I
went right round the wreck on the outside--starboard side first and
then port to the full extent of my life-line. No doubt, sir, the men
in her were blown to bits. There was a plate torn right out close to
her bows, I noticed. That shows how strong the force of the
explosion was."
Captain Raxworthy nodded.
"Then there's no possible doubt about it," he remarked to the
officers standing by. "Well, our work's done. The _Alerte's_
destroyed." He paused and glanced over the side across the tranquil
waters of the bay. "I'm rather sorry for that chap Cain," he
continued. "He evidently was a bit of a sport. I'd like to have met
him." Before sunset, H.M.S. _Canvey_ was steaming to the nor'ard,
homeward bound.
* * * * * * *
Pengelly was found guilty and sentenced to a long term of penal
servitude. The surviving members of the _Alerte's_ ship's company
received lighter sentences, but of sufficient severity to deter
others who might wish to emulate the misdeeds of the captain and
crew of the pirate submarine.
Gerald Broadmayne, lately promoted to lieutenant in consideration of
his services in the operations against the _Alerte_, had to give
evidence at the trial. But there were two points upon which he was
silent: Cain's real name and former rank in the Royal Navy was one;
the other was the incident of the air-lock.
Often Broadmayne thought of that air-lock, especially when he gazed
at the skull and cross-bones bedecked relic of the _Alerte_. It was
to him a fascinating and yet unsolved mystery. Did Cain succeed in
his desperate effort to escape? Or did the bed of the land-locked
Bahia Arenas hold the secret of the fate of the captain of the
pirate submarine until the sea gives up its dead?
[Transcriber's Notes:
This book contains a number of misprints.
The following misprints have been corrected:
[Captain Cain were very much mistaken] ->
[Captain Cain was very much mistaken]
[the threatened gale] -> [the threatening gale]
[the threatened storm] -> [the threatening storm]
[that o a red rag] -> [that of a red rag]
[as he had never before experience,] ->
[as he had never before experienced,]
[and two submeged torpedo tubes] ->
[and two submerged torpedo tubes]
[as he grapsed] -> [as he grasped]
[returning ignominously to] -> [returning ignominiously to]
[half a dozen ratlins] -> [half a dozen ratlines]
[Counfound Cain!] -> [Confound Cain!]
[the dumbfoundered men] -> [the dumbfounded men]
"boatswain" is abbreviated to [bo's'un] (3 times) and [bo'sun]
(41 times) in this book. Because both spellings are correct they
have been left unchanged.
[to bet a bottle of '14 Champagne to a Corona Corona]: the double
word "Corona" is not a typographical error, but an expensive kind
of cigar.
A few cases of punctuation errors were corrected, but are not
mentioned here.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Pirate Submarine, by Percy F. Westerman