THE KIEL CANAL
It was impossible to resist the conclusion suggested by the absence
of the sixth submarine.
I was not the only person who had been authorized, or rather
instructed, to carry out the design against the Baltic Fleet. My
august employer had thought it better to have two strings to his bow.
Who, then, was the person by whom I had been anticipated?
To this question an answer suggested itself which I was tempted to
reject, but which haunted me, and would not be dismissed.
The Princess Y---- had arrived in Berlin twelve hours before me. She
had come, fully believing that Petrovitch was dead, and prepared to
take his place.
She had interviewed Finkelstein, as I knew. Was it not possible that
she, also, had been received in the crypt at Potsdam, had been shown
the chart of the North Sea, with its ominous red lines, and had
accepted the task of launching one of the submarines on its fatal
errand?
In spite of all the stories which had been told me of Sophia's daring
and resource, in spite of my own experiences of her adventures and
reckless proceedings, I did not go so far as to credit her with
having proceeded to sea in the missing craft.
But it struck me as altogether in keeping with her character that she
should have arranged for the withdrawal of the boat, provided it with
a crew, and despatched it fully instructed as to the work to be done.
But whether these suspicions were well founded or otherwise, of one
thing there could be no doubt. A submarine had been taken by some
one, and was now on its way to the North Sea, to lie in wait for the
ships of Admiral Rojestvensky.
This discovery entirely changed the position for me.
I had come down to Kiel intending to take a submarine out to sea, to
watch for the approach of the Russian fleet, and to take whatever
steps proved practicable to avert any collision between it and the
fishing-boats on the Dogger Bank.
I now saw that the chance of my preventing a catastrophe depended
entirely on the movements of the boat which had left already. This
boat had become my objective, to use a strategical phrase.
Somewhere in the North Sea was a submarine boat, charged with the
mission of provoking a world-wide war. And that boat I had to find.
There was no time to be lost. I hastened back by the most direct way
I could find, to the dockyard gates. The little postern was still
unlocked, and I passed out, the sentry again taking no notice of my
passage.
But at the first street corner I saw a man in seafaring dress who
fixed a very keen gaze on me as I came up, and saluted me by touching
his cap.
"Good-night," I said in a friendly voice, slowing down in my walk.
"Good-night, sir. Beg pardon, Captain,"--he came and moved along
beside me--"but you don't happen to know of a job for a seafaring
man, I suppose?"
I stopped dead, and looked him straight in the eyes.
"How many men do you estimate are required to navigate a submarine?"
I asked.
"Fifteen," was the prompt answer.
"How soon can you have them here?" was my next question.
The fellow glanced at his watch.
"It's half-past eleven now, Captain. I could collect them and bring
them here by half-past one."
"Do it, then," I returned and walked swiftly away.
The whole thing, it was evident, had been prearranged, and I did not
choose to waste time in mock negotiations.
I went back to my inn to wait, but there was nothing for me to do,
except examine the cartridges in my revolver. I was not quite sure
how much my crew had been told, and I thought it just possible that I
might have some trouble with them when they found out the nature of
my proceedings.
Punctually at the hour fixed I returned to the street outside the
dockyard, where I found fifteen men assembled.
Glancing over them, I formed the opinion that they were picked men,
on whom I could have relied thoroughly for the work I had been
ordered to do, but who might be all the more likely to mutiny if they
suspected that I was playing false.
I stood in front of them in the silence of the street.
"Now, my men, if there is any one of you who is not prepared to obey
me, even if I order him to scuttle the ship, let him fall out before
we start."
Not a man stirred. Not an eyelash quivered. The German discipline had
done its work.
"I give you notice that the first man who hesitates to carry out my
orders will be shot."
The threat was received with perfect resignation.
"Follow me."
I turned on my heel, and led the way to the dockyard gates, the men
marching after me with a regular tramp which could only have been
acquired on the deck of a man-of-war.
The sentry was, if possible, more indifferent to our approach than
he had been when I had been alone. I threw open the wicket, and bade
the last man close it.
Then we marched in the same order to the place where the five
submarines were moored.
"I am going on board one of these boats," I announced. "Find
something to take us off."
The man whom I had engaged originally, taking on himself the part of
mate, repeated my directions. A large whale-boat was found tied up in
a convenient spot beside the wharf.
We all got in, and I took the tiller. The mate, who answered to the
Russian name of Orloff, though the only language I heard him speak
was German, said nothing till I brought the whale-boat alongside of
the nearest submarine.
"I beg pardon, Captain, but I have a fancy that the boat at the far
end is in better trim, if you have no choice."
"Why didn't you tell me so at once?" I returned sharply, not too well
pleased to find him so well informed.
We boarded the submarine pointed out, and found it, of course,
provided with everything necessary for an immediate departure,
including provisions for a week.
"You understand the navigation of the Canal, I suppose?" I inquired
of Orloff.
"I do, sir."
"Very good. Take the boat through. And ascertain all that you can
about another submarine which must have passed through yesterday.
Wake me if you hear or see anything."
I lay down in the captain's berth and tried to sleep. But the
excitement and, I may say, the romantic interest of the adventure
proved too strong for me.
I rose again, and came to where my deputy was seated, carefully
conning the boat out of the dockyard basin into the Baltic end of the
great Canal.
We were already submerged, only the tip of our conning staff being
out of the water. But by an ingenious system of tiny mirrors the
steersman was able to see his way as plainly as if he had been on
deck above the surface.
On approaching the lock by which the basin opened into the Canal, no
signal appeared to be given. Silently, as if of their own accord, the
huge sluices opened and shut, and we glided out into the great
waterway which has made the German Navy independent of Danish
good-will.
The voyage along the Kiel Canal in the silence of the night was
deeply interesting, and were I not obliged to restrict myself
severely to the naked outline of such facts as bear directly on the
catastrophe, I should like to attempt a description of the weird and
picturesque scene.
Keeping steadily just under the surface, we proceeded swiftly past
ports and villages and lonely wharves, till the stars paled and
disappeared and a faint flush overspreading the sky in front warned
us that day was breaking behind us.
I searched the banks for anything resembling the craft of which I was
in search, but in vain. We passed many other ships, chiefly
merchantmen bound for Lubeck and Dantzig and other Baltic ports, but
of course without being perceived ourselves.
When we reached the mouth of the Canal, I ordered Orloff to stop.
"I must go ashore here, and inquire about the other boat," I
explained.
I saw from the expression of his face that this step was not quite to
his liking, but he did not venture on any remonstrance.
He brought the boat alongside the bank, and raised her gently to the
surface, to enable me to step on shore.
But my quest proved useless, as perhaps I ought to have foreseen.
The harbor-master, or port captain, to whom I addressed myself,
affected the most entire ignorance of the exit of any submarine
within the last week or more.
"What you suggest is impossible," he assured me. "Every submarine is
well known and carefully guarded, and if one had been permitted to
leave Kiel by way of the Canal, I should have been notified in
advance. No such notification has reached me, and therefore, as you
will see, no such boat can possibly have left."
I suspected that he was lying, but I thought it unsafe to persist.
It occurred to me too late that I had been guilty of some imprudence
in showing so much anxiety on the subject. It was only too probable
that my inquiries would be reported to the Kaiser, who would draw his
own inferences in the event of anything going wrong.
I returned on board my own boat, saying nothing to Orloff, and gave
the order to proceed.
Orloff had handed over the wheel to one of his subordinates, who
steered the submarine out into the blue waters of the North Sea.
As soon as we were well out of reach of the Slesvig shore, I said to
the steersman,
"Now I will take the helm."
Instead of promptly relinquishing it to me, the man turned his head
in search of Orloff, saying at the same time,
"Do you understand the course, sir?"
I saw that if I meant to be master of the vessel, I must prove that
my words of the night before were spoken in earnest. I drew my
revolver, and put a bullet through the mutineer's head.