Through the Fog
"A GERMAN man-of-war!" exclaimed Detroit.
"Yes, one of the 'Deutschland' class," added Hamerton, who at the
first report had followed his companion on deck. He recognized the
battleship by her three telescopic funnels as belonging to a type
immediately preceding the first of the Kaiser's Dreadnoughts.
Although her principal armament consisted of only four eleven-inch
and fourteen six-inch guns, she was not an antagonist to be despised.
A bugle blared and the firing suddenly ceased.
"She's engaged in manoeuvres," continued the Sub. "Those destroyers
we saw are evidently about to attack her, and in the fog she mistook
us for one of them."
"Is that likely?" asked Oswald.
"Rather. I know what it is to be on the _qui vive_. Officers and men
are bound to get jumpy, and a dinghy might easily be mistaken for a
torpedo boat. Remember the case of the Russian Baltic Fleet and our
trawlers in the North Sea some years ago. But now's our chance to get
rid of the poor fellow we picked up. Hand me the Code Flag and letter
H."
Deftly Hamerton toggled the flags, signifying "Important; I wish to
communicate", to the halyards, and hoisted them to the peak.
The German battleship was now less than four hundred yards to leeward
and moving slowly through the water. At any moment she might be
swallowed up in the fog, which showed signs of increasing in density.
"There's the reply," exclaimed Detroit, as two flags fluttered from
the after-mast of the battleship.
"'I F,'" announced the Sub, placing his binoculars on the seat and
seizing the codebook. "The rotters! They decline to hold any
communication. There, she's off! Steady on the helm, old man! It's
time I saw to those rashers."
Once more Hamerton entered the cabin. The rescued man was still lying
on the floor, staring vacantly at the skylight.
"Are you better?" asked the Sub in as good German as he could muster.
His command of foreign languages, like that of the majority of
British officers, was poor. His German in particular was execrable.
"Ja," answered the man, without removing his gaze from the skylight.
The reply was purely mechanical, for Hamerton could see that the
fellow was not in full possession of his faculties.
"He'll recover all in good time," soliloquized Hamerton as he made
his way to the fo'c'sle. "A glass of brandy and water will do
wonders. Hallo! What's this?"
For the young officer had made the disconcerting discovery that in
the "wash" of the destroyers the frying-pan had jumped off the stove,
and four rashers lay stuck to the fo'c'sle floor in their own fat,
whilst rivulets of dried grease had traced fancy patterns on the
sides of the lockers and over a bundle of spare sails. To complete
the disorder, a can of paraffin and a tin full of soda had come into
violent contact, with the result that the contents of both gave
additional flavour to the stranded rashers. But for this, Hamerton
might have replaced the bacon in the frying-pan, reflecting that much
of the pleasure of yachting consists in tolerating discomforts. He
drew the line at rashers _à la_ soda and paraffin.
"You'll have to whistle for hot grub, Detroit," he called out.
"There's a most unholy mess for'ard. Hot coca and biscuits are the
best I can do."
Detroit's reply was to give a tremendous salute upon the foghorn, an
action that brought the Sub on deck.
"Destroyers are coming back," announced the American, "and the fog is
as thick as ever it has been. We've tumbled into a regular hornet's
nest of torpedo craft."
Five minutes later the sharp rattle of quick-firers announced that
the battleship had been attacked by the destroyers, a form of
practice that is regularly gone through by the Kaiser's ships. Then
all was quiet.
Two more hours sped. The _Diomeda_ still maintained her course,
slipping through the fog-enshrouded water at a bare four knots.
The German sailor, having been given a "stiff peg", was able to sit
up. Beyond feeling stiff and bruised by reason of his fall, he was
little the worse for his immersion, and, upon being questioned, gave
his replies in an intelligent and straightforward manner.
His name, he said, was Hans Pfeil. His rank corresponded to that of
Chief Yeoman of Signals in the British navy. His ship was S167, one
of, the most powerful of the Elbing-built destroyers, and belonging
to the Second Division of the Borkum flotilla. The boats had left
Borkum at midnight to deliver an attack upon the battleship
_Hannover_.
"What was the approximate position of the division when you fell
overboard?" asked Hamerton.
"Twenty miles due west of the Borkum Flat lightship."
The Sub whistled.
"We're out in our dead reckoning, Detroit," said he. "I thought we'd
left the lightship well on our starboard quarter. If this man's story
is correct--and I have no reason to believe otherwise--we ought to
be within hearing distance of the lightship. This fog is the most
persistent I have ever experienced."
"We will soon be in the way of steamship traffic in and out of the
Elbe and Weser."
"Or else piled up on one of those treacherous sandbanks. I'll see
what the _North Sea Pilot_ says. Ah! Here we are: 'Borkum Riff, or
Flat; syren in fog, one blast of five seconds every minute'. That's
what we have to listen for, old man."
Returning to the cabin, Hamerton resumed his conversation with Hans.
The seaman was profuse in his expressions of gratitude, for he
realized that but for Detroit's plucky act he would be lying in the
bed of the North Sea, twenty fathoms deep, instead of finding himself
in the cabin of the _Diomeda_. He knew Kiel well, for not only had he
been stationed there, but before he was called up for sea-service in
the imperial navy he had been a fisherman at Flensburg, a town in the
province of Schleswig. Thus he was able to give his benefactor much
valuable information concerning the yacht anchorage in the
neighbourhood of Kiel Bay.
The man was evidently troubled. His sense of duty, fostered by the
cast-iron discipline of the German navy, prompted him to report
himself as soon as practicable, and Hamerton, nowise loath to
recognize a praiseworthy trait in Hans Pfeil's character, promised to
tranship him to the first steamship bound either for Hamburg or
Bremen.
"There's the Borkum Riff," announced Detroit.
"You're right," assented the Sub, after listening till the lightship
again gave its warning note; "but goodness only knows the direction
whence the sound comes. Seems as if it's on our port bow."
"Starboard, I think," remarked his companion.
"The fog's not only trying to the sight, but to the sense of hearing
as well. We'll carry on, and trust to luck. It's my trick at the helm
now, my boy."
For another hour the _Diomeda_ hung on her course. The syren of the
lightship sounded louder and louder, while the hooters of several
vessels, adding to the din, betokened the fact that the yacht was
crossing one of the great steamship routes.
Then, with the same sort of suddenness that characterized the
previous temporary dispersal, the fog cleared, revealing a large red
vessel with three masts. On her fore- and mizen-masts were black
globes, with a pyramid-shaped cage on the main, while any doubts as
to her identity were set at rest by the words "Borkum Riff" on the
side showing towards the yacht.
Several of the lightship's crew gazed stolidly at the unfamiliar rig
of the _Diomeda_, and, in response to a wave of Hamerton's arm,
gravely raised their caps.
Ten minutes later the long-sought-for sea mark was lost to sight.
Hamerton missed an opportunity. He could have signalled or hailed the
lightship with the news that he had rescued a sailor from a German
destroyer, The intelligence would then have been sent by wireless to
the mainland. But he did not, and subsequent events brought home to
him the error he had made in omitting to do so.
"All plain sailing now," he remarked. "Keep as we are; we'll soon
pick up the Norderney Gat lightship, and then the Elbe. I'm jolly
glad we made Borkum Flat light-vessel, for, as I said before, I've no
wish to find myself amidst the sandbanks to leeward."
"The Germans are fortifying Borkum very heavily, I believe," said
Detroit. "In fact, they are turning the whole of the Frisian Islands
that belong to them into fortresses. Guess they'll take the rest of
the islands as well before long. John Bull is asleep, I guess, or he
would demand an explanation."
"John Bull sleeps with one eye open, old man. Take my word for it.
Besides, the Germans are at perfect liberty to defend their coasts."
"Admitted; but it is not a question of defence. These naval bases are
also for offence, and, what is more, they exist solely for a torpedo
raid on British ports when 'The Day', as they call it, comes. There
can only be one predominant race in the world, and that ought to be
the Anglo-Saxon."
"Because you are a member of our branch of the family."
"Guess you've hit it, Hamerton. Imagine an offensive and defensive
alliance between Great Britain and the United States! Nothing could
stand against it. Other European and Asiatic countries, realizing the
impossibility of continuing in the race for world supremacy, would
climb down. Reduction of armaments would follow automatically, and we
should be entering into a state that the most ardent delegate to the
Conference at The Hague never dreamt of."
"Until Great Britain and the United States quarrelled," said
Hamerton.
"And if they did they would soon patch matters up, like two children.
Our old axiom, 'Blood is thicker than water', still holds good, and
will do so till the end of time. That's why it licks me to understand
why Great Britain contracted that alliance with Japan."
"My dear Detroit," exclaimed the Sub deprecatingly, "you must allow
that the powers that be are better able to decide these matters than
you or I. For my part, as an officer of the Royal Navy, I must take
things as they are, unquestioning and loyally."
"Yet you must have your own views on the subject?"
Hamerton shrugged his shoulders.
"See what a rotten mess of things has resulted," continued Detroit.
"You may not admit it, but I reckon in your innermost mind you do.
Here's the U.S.A. on the verge of a quarrel with Japan over the
yellow immigration question. Great Britain is forced to increase her
naval expenditure out of all proportion to the rest of the proceeds
of taxation, in order to maintain a superiority over Germany's
rapidly growing navy. Your Two-Power Standard was knocked on the head
years ago. Yet, because of a sort of sentimental yearning on the part
of your diplomatists towards Japan, there is a peril of a
disagreement between the two great Anglo-Saxon races, whereas they
should be shoulder to shoulder."
"Then where does France come in?" asked the Sub, unconsciously
warming to the discussion. "We have an understanding with her."
"With all due respect to your Gallic neighbours, friend, France will
have all her work cut out to attend to Austria and Italy, who will
assuredly side with Germany."
"And Russia?"
"Ah! There you have a totally different case. Russia, after the
ordeal of her disastrous struggle with Japan, is gradually but surely
regaining her position as a naval and military power. In the near
future she hopes to see a solid, compact Slav Empire extending from
the Arctic Ocean to Cape Matapan. Then, profiting by her experiences,
she will again meet Japan but not until the Anglo-Japanese alliance
is dissolved. Once these aims are realized, Russia will stand aloof
in all European disputes until the Triple Alliance is weakened either
by victory or defeat. Since the barren Steppes of Siberia cannot
support her surplus population, she must find another outlet, and
that will be west-wards, as soon as she is strong enough to measure
weapons successfully with Germany, for the Slavs and the Teutons
never will hit it off together."
"You foresee drastic changes on the face of the map of Europe?"
"Of the whole world, I guess."
"Plenty of opportunity to consider the situation when the time
comes," said Hamerton, with true British indifference. "Meanwhile,
here we are in the North Sea, with a thick fog hanging about, and a
lee shore not many miles away. This situation is more important to me
than the whole of the international complications put together."
"I hope you'll always have cause to think so," added Detroit.