No doubt we should always be prepared for the unexpected, but the fact
remains that we very seldom are. In this case, the voice of Captain
Crouch carried from one end of the ship to the other, bringing a sudden
ray of hope into the heart of every man that heard it, that was like a
flash of light in a darkened room.
Every living soul on board--including the ship's carpenter himself--had
already given himself up for lost. The "Harlech" was apparently in a
sinking condition, and under the continual and merciless fire of the
enemy cruiser. They were miles from anywhere, in the very midst of the
ocean; and it had seemed as if nothing could save them from a watery
grave, or, at least, captivity. And suddenly, the intelligence was
burst upon them that the ship might yet be saved. The crew had been
ordered to return to the pumps. The unexpected had occurred.
Now, curiosity is a very natural sentiment that at times overcomes even
the strongest impulse. For the moment, Stork forgot that he was on the
point of committing murder; Jimmy Burke, that his life was in the
greatest peril. Without a thought for one another, both rushed out upon
the well-deck, to learn what had happened.
The "Harlech" still listed so much that the decks sloped at an angle of
almost twenty degrees. It was then afternoon, though the sun was still
high. The "Dresden" lay to the north-east, her great guns sounding in
quick succession, like peal after peal of thunder immediately overhead.
Though the shells still shrieked through the rigging, or burst their way
through the fragile sides of the ship, all eyes were turned towards the
south, in which quarter Captain Crouch upon the bridge was directing his
enormous telescope. Jimmy, regardless of his danger, dashed up the
steps that led to the forecastle-peak, and shading his eyes against the
glare of the sun, looked in the same direction.
It was some moments before he was able to make out anything at all; and
then, suddenly, he discerned quite clearly the funnels--from each of
which proceeded a thin trail of smoke--of three separate ships that
appeared to be advancing in line, steaming forward with rapidity and
making straight for the "Dresden."
Suddenly, Captain Crouch tucked his telescope under his arm, and shouted
to Stork, who was still upon the well-deck, to take charge of the party
that was again working at the pumps. And hardly had the words left his
lips than from the south there came a heavy thudding sound that was like
a thunder-clap in the distance, and a few seconds later, a great shell
screamed immediately overhead, to send up a fountain of water several
feet into the air, not more than forty yards from the "Dresden's" bows.
A loud cheer was lifted by the crew of the "Harlech"--the men who saw on
a sudden, as if newly awakened from a nightmare, that deliverance was,
indeed, at hand. For yonder, bearing straight in their direction, the
tolling of the great guns echoing across the sea, were three ships of
the British Navy, racing towards the enemy like as many joyful
greyhounds loosed together from the leash.
They were indeed three greyhounds of the sea: the "Glasgow," the 27-knot
cruiser that had escaped from the fatal fight off Coronel, when the
"Monmouth" and the "Good Hope" went down before the weight of the German
guns; the "Kent," which had run down and sunk the "Leipzig"; and the
"Invincible," the splendid armoured cruiser--the first of its
kind--whose twelve-inch guns had sent to the bottom the "Scharnhorst"
and the "Gneisenau," to avenge the death of Cradock. These were ships
that had been tempered in the stern forge of warfare, that had been
tried and not found wanting; even then, they had come from a great
victory in the south. As they swept down upon the foe, there was
something in the outline of their dark and threatening hulls, in the
very smoke that issued from their funnels, that made them appear, in
very truth, invincible and ruthless.
One after the other, in quick succession, their great guns opened fire,
until the sound was deafening, and it was as if the broad waters were
alive. Everywhere were great living fountains in the sea, and around
each one the water was churned white as snow.
The "Dresden," which was completed in the year 1907, had been built with
the idea of speed, and was but lightly armed. She carried only ten
four-inch guns and two torpedo-tubes, and with these she could not hope
to put up a fight against such a powerful adversary as the "Invincible."
In an old, time-worn phrase, she questioned not the order of her going,
but, putting her helm about, fled like a startled roe at very sight of
those who had marked her down.
It is impossible to describe the feelings of the men on board the
"Harlech." They had been rescued, at the eleventh hour, from the very
jaws of death; and the sudden knowledge that they, at last, were safe,
combined with a sense of relief that the living shells were no longer
hooting and shrieking about their ears, had a singular effect not only
on every member of the crew, but even upon Captain Crouch himself.
One and all, they worked at the pumps in a kind of frenzied joy, and as
they worked, they cheered. It soon became manifest that the "Harlech"
would be saved. She had been struck upon the water-line; the forward
holds had filled; and had the sea been rough, there is no doubt she
would have gone down with all hands on board. As it was, she shipped no
water that the pumps were not able to eject. Even as the men worked,
her bows rose, inch by inch, to their normal level above the surface of
the sea.
The "Invincible" rushed past, and signalled to the "Harlech," asking if
she needed help. Crouch, who was a fighting man by nature, knew well
enough that the object of all war is to damage the enemy, and that it
was a sound principle, both in practice and in theory, to let the
wounded lie. The "Harlech" was wounded; she lay upon the water like a
winged duck, for the time being crippled and quite useless. The main
business of the British armoured cruiser was to overhaul and sink the
"Dresden." If she stayed to give help to the merchant ship, if she
slowed down and changed her course, the German would stand the better
chance of escape. Captain Crouch, therefore, did not hesitate to send
back the answer that he was well able to take care of himself; at the
same time, he made so bold as to wish His Majesty's ships the very best
of luck.
By then, the "Dresden" was almost out of sight, steaming due
north-eastward, with the full power of her engines. As the chase
continued, the English men-of-war became strung out, the "Invincible"
and "Glasgow" leading, the "Kent" falling behind. In every hold the
stokers were hard at work, shovelling with frantic energy more coal upon
the furnaces, until the sky-line was black with long clouds of rolling
smoke. Until the sun went down in a flood of red upon the western
sky-line, and darkness spread slowly across the illimitable ocean, this
headlong chase continued.
The "Dresden" held her own, keeping within long range of the great guns
of the armoured cruiser. As they learnt afterwards, under cover of
night, she turned south again, thus escaping from her pursuers. She had
been designed as a commerce-destroyer, and, together with her
sister-ship the "Emden," was well suited to evade more powerful and
heavily armoured ships. On this occasion, she got away in safety; but,
a few weeks afterwards, she met with the inevitable fate that was in
store for her, and hauled down her flag--so that the ensign of the
German Navy vanished from the seas.
With matters of historical importance we are only secondarily concerned.
The business of this narrative is with Jimmy Burke, and also, in a less
degree, with Captain Crouch. Crouch had not spoken rashly when he
signalled that the "Harlech" stood in no need of help. He had already
satisfied himself that the vessel would remain afloat. Thanks to
Providence, the damage she had sustained was nearly all above the
water-line; and this was due very largely to the fact that the "Dresden"
for the most part had fired shrapnel at decisive range.
This had been done with an object. The German captain desired nothing
better than that the merchant ship should haul down her colours and
surrender. She had--as he probably knew--a valuable cargo on board; and
besides, the tons of coal she carried in her bunkers would be of
infinite value to a ship to whom all coaling stations were closed by the
extended pressure of the British Navy. Had the "Dresden" wished to sink
the "Harlech," there is no doubt she could have done so straight away.
As it was, in pursuance of the Prussian policy of frightfulness, it had
been her object to terrorize the crew. Moreover, being in complete
ignorance of the fact that the British cruisers were rapidly drawing
down upon him, the captain of the "Dresden" had imagined that he had
plenty of time upon his hands.
He very nearly paid the penalty of over-confidence. He escaped by the
skin of his teeth, leaving the "Harlech" still floating, but a battered
hulk.
All that night, Crouch and his men worked in desperation. On board the
ship was a perfect hubbub of hammering, hastening to and fro and the
giving of orders. Such holes in the ship's sides as were likely to
prove dangerous, should the sea get up, were repaired in rough, eager
haste; and not until then did Crouch give orders to clear away the
debris of the superstructure from the main-deck and hatchways.
By daybreak the following morning, the ship--though still in a sorry
plight--was pronounced seaworthy and well able to continue on her
voyage. And by that time, also, by sheer chance alone, there had fallen
into the hands of Jimmy Burke something of the most significant
importance, upon which--as will afterwards appear--the whole thread of
this narrative depends.
The boy had been set to work upon the forward well-deck, clearing away,
by the light of a lantern, the pieces of shattered and twisted iron and
broken woodwork that lay everywhere upon the riddled, splintered decks.
On a sudden, he had come across a half sheet of note-paper, caught in
the cogs of one of the winches and smeared with grease and oil.
Now, there is nothing remarkable in a half sheet of note-paper; and
there is small doubt that Jimmy would not have hesitated to throw it
away at once, had he not remembered that he had seen this very paper
before. It was the kind of paper that was used largely in the offices
of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, in New York. It was a blue paper, upon
the top of which had been stamped the initials of the firm: R.&G.
It was a half sheet that had been torn carelessly, and which in
consequence was wider at the top than at the bottom. Jimmy was positive
that he had seen it in the sea-chest of Rudolf Stork. And therefore,
instead of throwing it overboard, he put it furtively into one of the
pockets of his coat, perfectly certain that, when Stork had thrown his
papers away in such alarmed, suspicious haste, this single piece had
been blown back upon the deck. It contained about five lines in a bold
handwriting, rather large and sprawling; and Jimmy had a mind to read it
as soon as a suitable opportunity occurred.
That did not happen till early the following afternoon, when he found
himself alone in the forecastle, with half-an-hour to spare. He pulled
out the sheet of paper from his pocket, and holding it to the porthole
light made out the following mysterious and vague announcement--
_Steamboat entrance verified. Evening navigate. Follow idea.
Vernacular encumbrance. Enter into Guinea half-speed._
He read it over and over again; and the more he read it, the more
ridiculous and senseless did it seem. He could see no meaning in the
words at all, or rather, the sentences appeared quite unconnected one
with the other.
He read it so often that he very soon knew it word for word by heart.
And throughout the remainder of that voyage, until the very evening when
a great calamity befell them, he racked his brains continually to find
some solution of the riddle.
The probability was that these strange words meant something. The
handwriting, though unknown to him, was sufficiently angular in its
characteristics to suggest that it belonged to a German; and that,
together with the fact that Rudolf Stork was undoubtedly a German spy,
was firm ground for suspicion. But, to discover--if such existed--some
unknown and hidden meaning was no such easy matter.