A Momentous Decision
AT a quarter to five in the afternoon of the same day as the salvage
of the derelict Zeppelin was effected, Rex Thompson, the energetic
editor of _The Westminster Daily Record_, was superintending the
final setting-up of the evening edition.
The stop-press column was being delayed until the tape machine had
finished the report of the strange occurrence in the North Sea--how a
British destroyer had fallen in with and had towed into Harwich one
of the latest type of Zeppelins. Presently the door was flung wide
open, and Gordon Stirling burst into the room.
"Heard the news?" he asked breathlessly. "The Zeppelin?"
"Hallo, where did you spring from?" demanded Thompson in even tones.
"I thought you were supposed to be in Holland?"
"But the news?" demanded the young "special".
"Yes, yes, my dear Stirling. I am afraid you are a trifle late."
Stirling's face fell. It seemed hard lines, after having received
Lieutenant Mallet's assurance that no information would be given to
the Press representatives of Hamerton's presence on the fugitive
airship, that the news should have leaked out. The knowledge that a
German airship had been brought into Harwich was common property. It
was impossible to hide a gasbag of nearly a million cubic feet
capacity from the public gaze, but Stirling counted on Mallet's word.
The details were, of course, communicated by wireless to the
Admiralty, but _The Westminster Record's_ special was to be the
medium whereby the news of Hamerton's hairbreadth escape was to be
given out to the great British Public.
Stirling dare not telegraph or telephone the momentous news. Instead
he chartered a powerful car, and in an hour and twenty-five minutes
the chauffeur drew up outside _The Westminster Record's_ offices.
And then came the crowning disappointment. In bland tones he had been
informed by his chief that the news he brought was a trifle--just a
trifle--late.
"You might, however, glance at this," continued Thompson, handing him
the typed transcript of the tape message. "If there's anything
important to add, let me know."
The editor, mentally burying himself in a mass of papers, was
suddenly startled by a tremendous crash. Stirling had, in his
excitement, brought his fist down heavily upon the table, causing
Thompson's fountain pen to splutter all over a nearly completed
leader, while the pastepot and a bottle of red ink indiscriminately
shed their contents over the latest efforts on the part of _The
Westminster Record's_ parliamentary representative.
Thompson was on the point of using language that could hardly be
termed parliamentary, even in these latter days of politics, when
Stirling interrupted him.
"You haven't got it," he shouted, almost carried away in his
excitement. "You've missed the whole point. Hamerton's back!"
"What do you mean?"
"Hamerton--Hamerton made his escape in the Zeppelin."
"Fact?" asked Thompson coolly, raising one eyebrow as was his wont.
"Rather. I saw him."
"Interviewed him?"
"No."
"Silly owl; you've missed the chance of a life-time. Carry on.
Scribble half a dozen sticks--no, half a column. I'll get the space
held open."
Stirling was perfectly collected by this time. He wrote as he had
never written before--at great speed, yet in a lucid, connected
style.
"Here you are, sir," he announced quietly.
Thompson seized the blue pencil in anticipation. A look of mild
satisfaction that quickly gave way to exuberant delight overspread
his face as he read. The blue pencil was not required.
"Well done, Stirling; a straightforward piece of work, and every line
full of life!" he exclaimed, betraying an unwonted enthusiasm. "Now,
take my advice: go and get a good square meal, and go to bed early.
There'll be nothing doing, as far as you are concerned, till
to-morrow morning."
Meanwhile Sub-Lieutenant Hamerton, temporarily "rigged out" in mufti
obligingly lent by the commander of the _Boxer_, quietly slipped
ashore at Harwich, took train to town, and with the least possible
delay reported himself at the Admiralty.
For over two hours he was detained by the First Lord and the First
Sea Lord, both of whom happened by a pure slice of luck to be in
Whitehall when the momentous cipher telegram announcing Hamerton's
return in the disabled Zeppelin was received.
"There's an underhand piece of work somewhere," remarked Admiral Sir
James Churcher, the First Sea Lord. "Coming on the top of the German
Government's explanation to our ambassador it cannot be regarded as
otherwise."
"I agree with you," said the First Lord. "This affair will ultimately
be settled by the Navy, Churcher, of that I feel sure."
"Unless Germany climbs down."
"She won't; it will be a hard fight to the finish. These Teutons are
of very much the same characteristics as ourselves, remember. Of
course, diplomatic negotiations may put off the evil day, but after
the way our Foreign Office has been utterly fooled I don't put much
faith in that prospect. By the by, Mr. Hamerton, you mentioned that
you found a German confidential book on torpedoes. What became of
it?"
"I had it, but it was found when the yacht was searched, sir."
"H'm! I suppose that made it all the worse for you?"
"I hardly know, sir. It seemed as if they had made up their minds to
condemn us long before the actual trial."
"Did you make any notes?"
"Of what, sir?"
"Of the contents of the torpedo manual."
"No, sir; there was not time."
"Unfortunate," remarked Admiral Churcher. "The range of the
new-pattern Schwartz-Kopff torpedo is considerably greater than that
of our improved Whitehead. There is a rumour--we cannot obtain
confirmation--that its maximum range is twelve miles. It all depends
upon the motive power. Of course this is an important advantage, so
far as Germany is concerned, and it is a great pity that we failed to
obtain the secret, once the book was in your possession, Mr.
Hamerton. I realize, however, that it was due to no fault of yours."
Hamerton bowed.
"I congratulate you once again," continued the First Sea Lord, "on
your escape. For the next two days you ought to rest, but I fear the
exigencies of the Service will not permit. So be prepared to find
your appointment posted in the course of forty-eight hours or so."
The Sub took his leave. In the anteroom he rejoined his father, who,
on receipt of a telegram, had hastened to meet his son; and the two
made their way towards the main entrance.
"Here is Mr. Hamerton," said the uniformed messenger, addressing a
short, thick-set individual, whose face bore a smile of anticipated
pleasure.
"Mr. Hamerton?" he asked.
"Yes; but you have the advantage of me."
"Oh, I'm Stirling! I've seen you at a distance, you know, only----"
"Glad to meet you, Mr. Stirling," said the Sub warmly. "I know who
you are now, right enough. You're the fellow who discovered that
Detroit and I were prisoners on the island of Heligoland."
"Didn't do much good, I'm afraid," added Stirling modestly. "You got
away independent of that. But this is what I want to see you about,"
holding out a small paper parcel. "I found it stowed away on the
_Diomeda_. It's a torpedo book."
"You did, by Jove!" exclaimed Hamerton. "Stirling, you have done a
national service. I thought the book had been found by the German
officer who searched the yacht. Stand by in the waiting-room for a
few minutes longer, Pater; I'm going to take Mr. Stirling in to see
the First Lord."
It would be no exaggeration to affirm that the whole of the
English-speaking inhabitants of the globe were agitated by the
astounding escape of Sub-Lieutenant Hamerton from captivity.
In America anti-German sentiments rose high, while urgent
representations were made to the Capitol that an emphatic demand for
Detroit's release should be instantly sent to Berlin.
Both in Great Britain and the United States it was realized that an
international crisis was imminent. Consols dropped lower than they
had ever been known to fall before. The American Pacific Fleet was
ordered to pass through the Panama Canal and join the Atlantic
Squadron at a rendezvous off Cape Hatteras, and await orders.
Simultaneously the British Fleet, that for years past had been placed
on a war footing, was unostentatiously mobilized; the Portsmouth,
Portland, and Devonport ships being ordered to concentrate at the
Nore, while the Third and Fourth Squadrons of the Home Fleet were
sent to Cromarty Firth.
For the present nothing more could be done without indirectly
challenging Germany to settle the matter by the arbitrament of war.
Diplomatic relations were yet to be given one more chance, in the
hope of allaying the enmity between the great rivals for sea
supremacy.
General Heinrich von Wittelsbach had been once more hurriedly
summoned to Berlin. With a heavy heart he set out to meet his
imperial master. Fate had indeed treated him badly, though no less
than his high-handed actions--done, according to his views, in the
interest of the Fatherland--demanded. Not only had he failed to keep
one of the alleged spies under lock and key; he was threatened with
ignominy. It seemed impossible for him to explain satisfactorily the
reason for deceiving the Emperor, who, on his assurances, had
imperiously replied to the British and American Ambassadors' Note.
There was also the humiliation of having lost one of the latest
Zeppelins, which Great Britain was keeping under the pretext that it
was unfit to be towed back to Heligoland, but in reality as a
hostage.
"General, you have been over-hasty," was the Emperor's greeting, "I
might say over-zealous."
"Sire, I regret deeply----"
"One moment, Von Wittelsbach," said his Imperial sovereign. "Before
you start offering regrets would it not be better to give us your
version of this affair--the true version, mind? What say you, Von
Rhule?"
Von Rhule, the Chancellor, who was the only person present at the
interview, merely inclined his head. He was a man of few words, but
he had a will of which even his master stood in awe. His policy was
not only "Germany for the Germans", not merely a desire for "a place
in the sun", but a determination to make the German Empire the
predominant nation on land and sea. Although his rise to power had
been of comparatively recent date, he was beginning to be recognized
as a super-Bismarck. If Bismarck were described as a man of blood and
iron, Von Rhule's ambition was to be regarded as a man of brains and
steel. Needless to say, he was an Anglophobe. One of the few
disappointments of his hitherto brief career was the failure of his
agents to provoke a quarrel between the United States and Great
Britain over Mexican affairs. He placed very little reliance upon the
Triple Alliance. His idea was to set Austria against Russia and
engineer a war between France and Italy. Germany, standing aloof
during the struggle between the two pairs of combatants, could then
afford to dictate to the victors of the exhausting war.
Heinrich von Wittelsbach had the acumen to perceive that the Emperor
was inclined to treat the Hamerton and Detroit incident in an
indulgent way. In a blunt, soldier-like fashion the commandant of the
garrison of Heligoland told his story, omitting no important point
and offering no excuses.
"Now, General, your motive?" demanded the Emperor.
"Sire, my motive was simply the great desire of my career: to
safeguard the output of the Empire against all attempts on the part
of foreign powers to steal the results of patience and diligence on
the part of the German nation. I have freely admitted that my initial
act in hastily placing those men under arrest was an error."
"And therefore you hoped, by piling error upon error, to remedy your
original fault?"
"Solely in the interests of Your Majesty, sire."
"And have placed me in a quandary. Germany must either become the
laughing-stock of the whole world or else command respect at the
point of the sword. Look at the present state of this affair. The
English are clamouring for war. History will tell you that their
ancestors demanded and obtained a declaration of hostilities against
Spain simply on account of the loss of a man's ear. I know them; they
are a peculiar nation. Their ministers of state are ever proclaiming
their desire for peaceable relations with us; yet, in spite of their
vaunted boast to act fairly and squarely with all the world, they
would deny us the right to develop as a healthy nation ought and
must. Am I not right, Von Rhule?"
"Yes, sire. Take the latest case in point--Damaraland."
The Emperor's brow darkened. He remembered the incident only too
well. A few months ago two Alsatian recruits had been drafted with
others to German South Africa. The men, bullied and ill-treated by
their officers, deserted and escaped into Walfisch Bay. The German
officer in command dispatched troops in pursuit, and the latter,
possibly unwittingly, entered British territory. A native, refusing
to give information, was ordered to be beaten, and in retaliation a
number of Kroomen stoned the German soldiers. Meanwhile the British
authorities refused to give up the deserters on the grounds that they
were political refugees, and ordered them to be sent on to Cape Town.
For a few moments the Emperor looked fixedly at the Chancellor, then
in low, emotional tones he asked:
"Are we ready?"
"Yes, sire; to the last----"
"Stop!" exclaimed the Emperor. "Was not a similar reply given to the
Emperor of the French half a century ago? You know what that led to?
Have we the Reichstag solidly at our backs?"
"All, sire, except the Socialists on the extreme left. But they need
not be taken into account. Later on they will be dealt with as their
stubbornness merits."
"Then there is the possibility, nay, probability, of a rupture with
the United States?"
"True, sire; but give us four clear days and Great Britain will be
humiliated; her navy will be almost utterly destroyed. Our destroyer
flotillas could then lie in wait for the American fleet, and it will
be a case of Tsussima over again."
"You are sanguine, Von Rhule."
"Assuredly, sire. Everything is in our favour. Take the English fleet
at the present time. Nine battleships and battle-cruisers are under
repair in the various dockyards, eleven battleships and their
attached craft are now in the Mediterranean, eight days' steaming
from the Straits of Dover. Thus we have a predominance in battleships
in the North Sea, to say nothing of the surprise attack our
destroyers and submarines are able to deliver. Our aerial fleet
also----"
"One Zeppelin of which is at present in the hands of the English."
"True, sire, but an aerial fleet will be able to inflict enormous
damage to the docks of the east coast of England; perhaps even London
may be reduced to a heap of ruins."
"Your words smack too much of the word 'perhaps', Von Rhule."
"My perhaps, sire, means a certainty," said the Chancellor grimly.
"You are omitting the element of chance."
"There is no need to make allowances for chance, sire. Our
preparations are made so as to be independent of that."
The Kaiser still hesitated, and Von Rhule noted his master's
indecision.
"Sire," he continued, "never again will such an opportunity present
itself. By next year these English will have five new battleships in
commission, without counting four built for foreign Governments and
which they can press into their service. Thanks to our friends the
Socialists on the extreme left, our expenditure is limited to the
construction of only three large ships of war. The people are
groaning under the imposts: it will be unwise to press them by
additional taxation. Our destiny lies on the sea. You, sire, know it
well. Throw away the chance of achieving our dominant end, and never
again will a like opportunity present itself."
"What say you, Von Wittelsbach?"
"Sire, I can but entirely agree with what Count von Rhule has
spoken."
"So be it," concluded the Emperor. "We will summon a meeting of the
Supreme War Council this afternoon."