Captain Crouch was a man who seldom--if ever--made up his mind in a
hurry. It was his custom to consider every aspect of a question before
he came to any definite decision; but, when once his opinions had been
formed, he was not disposed to alter them. He was a hard man in many
ways--one who, having had everything against him from the start, had had
to make his own way in a world that is not so charitable as some may
think. That Captain Crouch had made a great success of life, there can
be no shadow of doubt; and it is equally certain that he was never
indebted to any one throughout the whole course of his career-except
later on (as we shall see) to Jimmy Burke himself.
In this particular case, he had made up his mind that Jimmy was a German
spy. He had heard both sides of the question, and saw no reason to
doubt the word of Rudolf Stork. In consequence, for more reasons than
one, he was determined to have nothing to do with Jimmy. Not only did
he hand over the stowaway for safe custody to Mr. Dawes the chief
officer, but he gave strict injunctions that Jimmy was to keep out of
his way--as far as that could be possible on a ship of not five thousand
tons.
Life in the forecastle of an ocean tramp has little or no joys to one
who has been brought up, if not in luxury, at least in decency and
comfort. For the first week, the weather continued to be rough; it was
bitterly cold, and they saw little of the sun. The boy had no friends
on board; for the members of the crew--who laughed and joked together on
the forward well-deck after working hours--following the example of the
captain and the ship's officers, believed in their hearts that the boy
was, indeed, a German spy, and treated him with undisguised and due
contempt. From dawn to sunset, Jimmy went about his work practically
ignored. No one spoke to him, except to give him orders; and these he
received, not only from the chief officer and Stork, but also from any
one else who happened to require assistance.
In these circumstances--as may easily be imagined--the boy was utterly
miserable and almost broken-hearted. There were nights when he found it
impossible to sleep, but lay awake, hour upon hour, writhing under the
great wrong that had been done him.
He soon learnt to give up all hope of ever explaining matters to Captain
Crouch. He could not fail to see that he must bear his wrongs as
bravely as he might. Nor could he find any sympathizer amongst the
crew; one and all, they were loyal Britishers--with the sole exception
of Rudolf Stork--and as such were heartily against him. Had he been
subjected to physical cruelty, had he been thrashed and kicked and
beaten, his lot would have been easier to bear. He thought it all out,
time and again, in the darkness of the night, while the ship was
ploughing her way eastward across the great Atlantic, and always came to
the same sorrowful conclusion: that there was nothing he could do, but
find courage in the knowledge of his own innocence, and keep an eye upon
Stork.
He knew Stork to be a spy. That no one else was likely to believe it
made it none the less true that, to the boy's certain knowledge, the
man's services had been engaged by Rosencrantz and the Baron von
Essling. Stork, beyond doubt, was on his way to England on some secret
business. It was quite possible that the man had in his possession
incriminating documents and papers. Jimmy realized that, if he could
but find this out for certain, he would be able to convince Crouch not
only of his own innocence, but of Stork's indubitable guilt.
It was this vague hope that buoyed Jimmy's spirits during the first five
or six days of the voyage. By then, they had reached mid-ocean, where
the presence of the Gulf Stream, and a welcome change of weather, had
raised the temperature by, at least, twenty degrees. Jimmy had already
discovered that Stork kept a sea-chest under his bunk in the
forecastle--a strong chest, iron-bound and made of oak, fastened both by
an ordinary lock and a padlock, the keys of which Stork kept on a chain,
along with a jack-knife and a whistle.
There had been times when Jimmy had thought quite seriously of forcing
his way into the captain's cabin, and imploring Crouch to have this
chest examined, on the off chance that thereby Stork might be proved the
scoundrel he was. That the boy never decided to take a step so
irretrievable and final, goes a long way to prove that he was possessed
of little of the gambling instinct of his father. He saw from the first
that there was a good chance that the sea-chest would contain nothing of
an incriminating nature, in which case he would be in a worse plight
than before. Throughout all this strange, mysterious business, so much
was at stake that Jimmy felt he was not entitled to risk more than he
need. And it was well for him that he resolved to be discreet; for, in
a manner that was at once surprising and dramatic, Providence, for the
first time, came to his aid.
One morning, soon after daybreak, they sighted a British
torpedo-boat-destroyer, racing due northward, travelling at a speed of
almost thirty knots an hour. The destroyer, evidently wishing to speak
to the "Harlech," which was not, of course, equipped with wireless
apparatus--drew to within a cable's length of the steamer, when the
commander shouted through a megaphone to Captain Crouch, who was on the
bridge.
"Have you heard the news?" he asked.
"What news?" asked Crouch. "We've seen no papers since we left New
York, more than a week ago."
"Admiral Sturdee has thrashed the German squadron off the Falkland
Islands. The 'Gneisenau,' the 'Scharnhorst,' the 'Leipzig,' and the
'Nuremburg' have been sunk; but the 'Dresden' managed to escape, and is
believed to have come this way."
"I've seen nothing of her," answered Crouch.
"Do you know what she looks like?" asked the commander.
"Sure enough," said Crouch. "Protected cruiser, of about three thousand
five hundred tons. Speed about twenty-four and a half. Two masts and
three funnels--a trifle forward. Sister ship to the 'Emden.' Completed
in 1908."
"That's her," shouted back the officer. "Sorry you haven't seen her.
Good-bye, and good luck. Look out for enemy submarines," he added,
"when you get into the Channel."
A moment later, the destroyer was flying on its way, cutting through the
water at such a velocity that the spray was sent high into the air, to
form a kind of rainbow in the sunshine immediately above her bows.
The news of the defeat of Admiral von Spee's squadron was received with
delight by the ship's officers and crew of the "Harlech." That evening,
for the first time during the voyage, a banjo made its appearance on the
forward well-deck, and there were songs, not unconnected with the fact
that England had been in the past, and would continue to be in the
future, the sole mistress of the seas. Throughout these quite excusable
rejoicings, it was a fact--that passed unnoticed by every one, except by
Jimmy Burke--that Rudolf Stork held himself aloof, standing apart from
the others, with his bare arms folded and never a smile upon his lips.
Jimmy hoped that the man's surly manner would be noticed by the captain,
upon whom as a rule little or nothing was lost. But Crouch paced the
main-deck, with both hands behind his back, lost in thoughts of his own
and a veritable cloud of the black smoke of "Bull's Eye Shag."
It was quite late at night when the forecastle, at last, was still. Six
bells had sounded when the banjo was put back into its case and the crew
turned in. An hour after that, Rudolf Stork was pacing the lower
deck---a silent, shadowy figure in the moonlight, moving in and out
among the derricks and the hatches. Jimmy Burke, lying upon his bunk at
the entrance of the forecastle, watched the man for a long time,
wondering what were the dark thoughts that Rudolf Stork could share with
no one; and when, at last, the boy fell asleep, the ship's carpenter was
still striding to and fro, like some restless, evil spirit.
The boy was awakened suddenly by the shrill note of the boatswain's
whistle. One after the other, close upon each other's heels, the crew
tumbled out upon the well-deck. Simultaneously, the voice of Captain
Crouch rang out, so loud as to be audible from one end of the ship to
the other.
"Every man at his alarm post! Have the boats ready to be lowered; we
may have need of them before we are much older. Mr. Dawes, spare every
man you can to work in the engine-room like a nigger. If we can manage
to squeeze fifteen knots out of the old ship, there'll be just a dog's
chance that we escape."
Jimmy waited to hear no more, but, springing from his bunk, hastened out
upon the deck.
A group of men was standing upon the main-deck immediately beneath the
bridge, many of whom were pointing excitedly towards the east. It was
dawn; and although the sun had not yet risen, the first signs of
daybreak were clearly visible upon the horizon. The sea itself looked
black; in the sky, a few stars still glimmered faintly. Upon the
eastern sky-line extended a long belt of silver, in the immediate centre
of which there could be seen a thin trail of smoke. Captain Crouch was
on the bridge, with a large telescope raised to his only eye.
For the first five hours of that memorable day, the excitement that
prevailed on board the "Harlech" was intense. Every one went about his
work in breathless haste. Mr. Dawes shouted his orders like a madman.
From time to time, the chief engineer appeared on deck to report
progress from the engine-room. Every pound of coal that it was possible
to throw into the furnaces would tend to increase the ship's speed,
if--as Captain Crouch believed--the trail of smoke upon the far horizon
came from the funnels of the "Dresden."
By eight o'clock, there was no doubt whatsoever that it was the German
cruiser herself that they had sighted. A little after, it was evident
that the "Dresden" was giving chase. From the well-decks only her smoke
was visible, but this was rapidly growing more and more distinct. Crouch
remained upon the bridge, his telescope glued to his eye; and from that
altitude no doubt the hull of the German warship was visible.
Presently, from the direction of the enemy, there came a dull booming
sound that died away across the great expanse of water, like the rolling
sound of a monster drum. It had hardly ceased before there became
audible a shrill, piercing hoot, not unlike a human shriek, that became
louder and louder with alarming rapidity.
There was no need for one of the crew who had taken part in the South
African War to cry out that a shell was coming. Every one on board knew
what that sound meant. Following a not unnatural curiosity, every man
rushed to the taffrails, to see what would be the result. There was a
loud, and almost unanimous, shout of "There she goes!" as the shell
plunged into the water about two hundred yards from the starboard side
of the ship, sending a great savage fountain high into the air.
By then, the "Harlech" was steaming almost due south. Her course had
been changed at daybreak, when the "Dresden" had been sighted
immediately ahead. The first shell, which was marvellously accurate as
far as direction was concerned, must have passed immediately over the
mast-head of the merchant ship.
This augured ill for the remainder of the day. There seemed little or
no chance that the "Harlech" would escape, though she burnt every ton of
coal she carried in her bunkers. The British destroyer had gone due
north. Nowhere else, except in the direction of the "Dresden," was
there a ship in sight. The "Harlech"--as we have already pointed
out--was not equipped with wireless, and had no means of calling for
assistance.
For the next two hours, the utmost confusion and consternation prevailed
on board. A shell struck the forecastle-peak, and tore away a great
piece of the ship, as a bull-dog might rend the clothes of a tramp.
Another broke its way through the superstructure under the bridge; and a
third, fourth and fifth, pierced the ship's sides above the water-line.
Throughout all this, Captain Crouch remained perfectly calm and
collected, from time to time taking his pipe from his mouth to knock out
the ash on the heel of his boot, refill it and light it with the utmost
care. The "Dresden" was now well in sight, bearing straight down upon
them, as a tiger might rush upon its prey. It seemed, indeed, that they
were doomed.
It was about mid-day when the German cruiser signalled to them to
surrender; and though there could be no question that a refusal would
lead to the destruction of them all, Crouch flatly refused to
acknowledge that the game was up. His only answer was to hoist the
Union Jack to the mast-head and run up the Red Ensign on the poop.
The appearance of the British flag upon the high seas upon that calm,
sunlit winter's morning was a hint to the captain of the German cruiser
to open fire with shrapnel.
From this time onward, the decks were highly dangerous. The German
gunners got the range to an inch, and managed to keep it, in spite of
the fact that every minute brought them nearer and nearer to their prey.
These shells exploded one after the other, in quick succession, each one
with a white puff, in the very midst of the rigging; whilst the round,
leaden bullets descended in a shower, to bury themselves in the teak
decks or crash through the glass of the skylights.
No one faced this, with the exception of Captain Crouch; and how he
managed to live in the midst of it all must ever remain a mystery. He
never lost his head for a moment, but continued to give orders which,
because of the constant noise of bursting shells, he was obliged to
shout through a megaphone.
A ship's quartermaster, clambering up from one of the forward holds,
dashed up the ladder to the bridge, which was all twisted like a
corkscrew, and reported to the captain that the ship had been struck
below the water-line, and was sinking by the bows. Just then there was
a lull in the firing; and Crouch called the crew together, and addressed
them in the following words--
"If I haul down that flag," he cried, pointing to the Union Jack, "we
may live to regret it, to tell those who come after us how we
surrendered like a pack of curs. I'll save you that at any rate. If we
must die, we'll die like men and Britons. Come, tell me, have I spoken
square and honest?"
A cheer came from the men--a cheer that was cut short by a great
explosion on the poop, that carried away the round-house and a great
iron bollard that had been held to the deck by four cast-iron rivets,
each one as thick as a strong man's wrist. Crouch paid no heed to this,
but continued, waving his pipe in his hand.
"Well spoken, lads," he cried. "Though we've got no guns of our own,
we'll stick to the Flag to the last; and maybe they'll hear of it in
England. And now, pay no heed to the shells, but all hands to the
pumps."
The men obeyed with that business-like promptitude that is
characteristic of the Anglo-Saxon race. They were not disposed to argue
that, after all, life was possibly worth living, and there is no more
terrible death than to be drowned in calm water when the sun is shining
in the midst of an illimitable sea. It was enough for them that their
captain had spoken words that moved them to the depths of their rugged
hearts: they were resolved to die like men.
For half-an-hour they worked in a kind of frenzy at the pumps, striving
to keep the stricken ship afloat. It seemed that their efforts were
successful; for, though the "Harlech" had taken on a marked list to
port, and her stern was lifted a good six feet in the water, she seemed
to be still seaworthy and as yet showed no signs of settling down. The
"Dresden" was now not much more than four miles in the wake of the
fugitive ship, which did little more than crawl.
[Illustration: THE "HARLECH" HAD TAKEN A MARKED LIST TO PORT--NO ONE
COULD LIVE UPON HER DECK.]
At such a range shrapnel is at its worst and deadliest. Shell after
shell burst upon the "Harlech," until the masts were splintered, the
decks riddled, and the rigging cut and torn in a thousand places. The
top of one of the funnels had been blown away; the glass windows of the
chart-house had been driven in.
Presently the shell fire became so severe, and there had been so many
casualties among the crew, that it became impossible to continue to work
the pumps. No one could live upon the deck; and something in the nature
of a stampede was made to the saloon, whither the wounded had been
carried.
Jimmy, who had been working at the pumps, had been one of the last to
leave. His courage had not passed unnoticed by Captain Crouch, who
found himself at a loss to reconcile two facts: firstly, that Jimmy had
displayed a supreme contempt for danger, and secondly, that the boy was
presumed to be a German spy.
As a great shell struck the mainmast, and brought down a spar upon the
deck to which was attached the tattered shreds of what had once been the
flag of England, the boy sought safety in the forecastle. There, one of
the first things that met his eyes was a sea-chest, the lid of which had
been broken open by the force of the concussion by which it had been
hurled across the deck. Upon one of the broken pieces of this box were
inscribed in black lettering the two words: RUDOLF STORK.
This was no time upon which to stand upon ceremony. There is no such
thing as private property in time of war--as, during the long months of
this colossal combat, Europe has learnt to her cost. Jimmy Burke had
suspicions of his own, which he had cause to know were well grounded.
Chance had brought an opportunity to hand which he was not slow to take.
In a second he was down on all fours, turning out the contents of
Stork's sea-chest, which appeared to have been filled with nothing but
documents and papers, the majority of which were in the handwriting of
Rosencrantz, the tool of the Baron von Essling.
What these papers were Jimmy was given no opportunity of finding out;
for, hardly had he picked up the first to examine it more closely, than
he was suddenly seized from behind by the scruff of the neck.
With a quick movement he managed to free himself, escaping to the
windlass, which is in the very peak of the ship. There he found himself
cut off by Rudolf Stork, who stood immediately before him, so that there
was no means of exit from the forecastle.
Stork was like a madman. He wore nothing but a shirt and a pair of
trousers. Upon his left shoulder there was a patch of blood where he
had been struck by a shrapnel bullet. Even in the semi-darkness of that
place, Jimmy could see that the man was in such an insensate fit of fury
that his eyes were gleaming like coals of fire.
With a loud oath, hurled through his teeth in the direction of the boy,
he gathered his papers together in an armful, and hurled them through a
port-hole into the sea.
"And now," he cried, "you infernal young dog, I'll do for you!"
Suddenly, as he picked up a marlinspike that happened to be lying close
at hand upon the deck, with an expression stamped upon every feature of
his face that could mean nothing short of murder, a loud British cheer
came from somewhere amidships that was clearly audible in spite of the
bursting shells and the incessant thunder of the "Dresden's" guns. Stork
paused in the very act of raising his weapon to strike.
"What's that?" he cried.
No sooner had the words left his lips than the cheer was raised a second
time, louder than before. And then the voice of Captain Crouch rang
out, in which there was a clear note of triumph.
"Back to the pumps!" he shouted. "Boys, we'll save her yet."