During the latter part of her voyage, the "Harlech" was not able to
travel faster than eight knots an hour, whereas normally she was capable
of doing as much as thirteen under favourable conditions. The truth was
her engines had been badly damaged by shell fire; and had she not been
commanded by a man of inflexible resolution, there is no doubt she would
have put into one of the Irish ports for safety and repairs. Crouch,
however, had his orders, and these were to take the ship to Portsmouth,
with as little delay as possible and in face of every risk; and thither
he was determined to go.
It was not until the evening upon which they sighted the Fastnet light
that Crouch himself, for the first time, had some cause for suspicion in
regard to Rudolf Stork. The man's conduct on that particular occasion
was by no means easy to explain.
During the incident with the "Dresden" two of the ship's quartermasters
had been severely wounded and rendered incapable of carrying on their
work. On ocean liners and merchant vessels the quartermasters are
entrusted with a very important office: it is they who take their turn,
watch by watch, at the wheel, who are responsible that the ship
maintains her course. There were now but two quartermasters capable of
doing duty; and Captain Crouch had to look about him to find other men
capable of taking the places of those who had been disabled.
It so happened that Rudolf Stork was one of the first to volunteer, and
was able to prove that he had sufficient knowledge of a ship's compass
to take charge of the wheel. He was told off for the middle watch,
which was that commanded by the chief officer, Mr. Dawes.
Having picked up the famous Fastnet light, and verified his course,
which was almost due south-east to the Scillies, Captain Crouch turned
in at midnight, at the end of his own watch, and handed over to Dawes,
who ascended the bridge steps followed by Stork. The night was bitterly
cold; a fine rain was driving south-westward, down the St. George's
Channel. There was also a sea fog which completely obliterated the moon
and stars. Both Dawes and the acting quartermaster wore waterproof
coats and sou'westers.
Now, it so happened that on this occasion the chief officer was very far
from well. A few days before, he had contracted a violent cough which
that night showed signs of becoming serious. He had reported to the
captain that he felt indisposed, but protested that he was quite able to
do his duty. For all that, he had not been upon the bridge
three-quarters of an hour when he was seized with an immoderate fit of
coughing. This coughing was not only a serious impediment to the proper
carrying out of his duty, but it was also exceedingly painful. His pulse
was exceptionally fast, and a certain hot dryness of the skin was a sure
symptom of fever. Indeed, had there been a doctor on board, he would
have diagnosed the case at once, and pronounced the chief officer to be
on the verge of double pneumonia, aggravated by bronchial trouble. In
face of this, it speaks volumes for the pluck and perseverance of Mr.
Dawes that he had undertaken to go on watch at all.
Very soon, however, the coughing became so violent and persistent that
he was, at last, obliged to leave the bridge, to go below to his cabin.
He was not absent much longer than ten minutes; but, it so happened
that, whilst he was away, Crouch, who had not yet been to sleep,
returned to the bridge.
The captain did not ascend the steps that led from the main-deck, but
came upon the wheel from the after side, by way of the boat-deck, which
had been much shattered by the shell fire of the "Dresden." Crouch--as
is well known--had the eye of a lynx; and he saw at once that Stork was
holding the ship on a course at least twenty-five degrees south of that
marked upon the captain's chart.
"Hullo there!" he shouted, so suddenly that Stork started and let out an
exclamation of surprise.
The man was obviously alarmed, and for a moment lost his
self-possession, but recovered himself in an instant, and put the ship
about upon her proper course.
"Look here," said Crouch, "I'll have no monkey tricks on board this
packet. What d'ye mean? Answer me that! What d'ye mean?"
Stork made some feeble excuse, to which Crouch listened in stony
silence. When Mr. Dawes returned to the bridge, he found his captain in
none of the best of tempers. Neither was Crouch much inclined to be
sympathetic in regard to the chief officer's hacking cough.
"You're ill, man," said he; "of course, you're ill. I know that as well
as you; and as I told you before, you were in no fit state to come on
duty. Still, if you undertake a job of work, I expect you to do it; and
it is not for me to tell you a ship's officer's duty. As long as you
hold the bridge, you remain there. Understand this, Mr. Dawes: there's
a mighty difference between a ship crossing the Atlantic in time of war,
with such a cargo as we shipped in New York harbour, and an oil-tank
steamer in the south Pacific, when the captain and the mate can play
halfpenny nap all day and sleep like infants half the night. If you're
not fit for duty, go below, sir, and leave the bridge to me. It won't be
the first time in my life I've done eight hours on end."
Mr. Dawes took the hint, which, indeed, he was hardly in a condition to
reject. He went below, still coughing and more than a little ashamed.
As for Crouch, he remained on duty until eight bells had sounded,
which--as the conclusion of the middle watch--is four o'clock in the
morning. Throughout that time, he kept the eye of a hawk upon the man
at the wheel, who, in his turn, never once looked up from the compass.
All this while, Crouch's brain was active. He may have been inclined to
be pig-headed, but he was by no means a fool. For the first time, he
found himself wondering whether there was any truth in what Jimmy had
told him. He was perfectly convinced that Stork had changed the course
of the ship on purpose. The man was not only quite thorough in his work
as a rule, but understood his duty, and was hardly likely to have made
so serious a mistake through negligence alone.
When the last watch came to deck, the captain's eyes followed Stork as
he made his way to the forecastle; and then he, too, went below to his
cabin, to snatch a few hours' sleep. He was now quite ready to admit
the possibility that he had made a serious mistake, and made up his mind
to keep a sharp eye upon Stork throughout the remainder of the voyage.
The next day--when the "Harlech" was steadily ploughing her way, heading
for the entrance of the Channel--was an anxious time for Crouch. He
knew the full value of the cargo he carried, and its utmost importance
to those to whom it was consigned; and he knew also that, at any moment,
a torpedo from some lurking, hidden foe might send the ship and all on
board to the bottom. A heavy sea fog lay upon the surface of the water.
Dawes was in bed, unable to rise; and since the third officer was
somewhat young and inexperienced, nearly all the responsible work of the
ship devolved upon the captain.
That afternoon, towards sunset, the fog lifted a trifle. Crouch
remained upon the bridge, straining his single eye through his long
telescope for minutes at a time. Presently, he closed the instrument
with a snap, tucked it under his arm, and dived both hands into his
trousers pockets.
"Just as I thought!" he exclaimed. "We're a good six points to the
south, and on the wrong side of the Scillies. That man's a rogue."
There was no one to hear this remark but the quartermaster at the wheel,
and Jimmy Burke, who had just then ascended the bridge steps with a cup
of bovril for the captain, who had sent below for something to warm him
up.
"My boy," said Crouch, "I may have done you a wrong. Mind, I don't say
I have; but, I'm quite ready to confess that there's a chance of it.
Come and see me in my cabin, at ten o'clock to-night."
During that evening and the early hours of the night, the "Harlech"
rounded the Scilly Islands, and sighted the Cornish coast, where the
great, powerful light at the Lizard flashes its message of warning
across eighty miles of sea.
Jimmy Burke, filled with anticipation concerning his coming interview
with the captain, did not turn into the forecastle, but betook himself
to the poop, where he lay down upon a great coil of rope.
Now, those who know anything of the hardships of a sea-faring life are
well aware that a coil of rope makes a couch that is far from being
uncomfortable--as things go with those whose fate it is to serve before
the mast. There is always a great depression in the middle, in which it
is possible for the body to sink; and this is exactly what happened to
Jimmy Burke. He sank so deeply in the midst of the coils of rope that,
in spite of the fact that it was an exceedingly bright moonlit night,
his form was completely hidden from any one who might happen to be
passing.
He did not fall asleep, because he was particularly anxious to count
each sounding of the ship's bells, knowing that at four bells precisely
he would have to report himself to Captain Crouch. He was therefore in
full possession of his senses and wide awake when a shadowy form
ascended the poop steps, and passed to the taffrails at the very stern
of the vessel, from which was suspended the rope of the ship's log.
This man Jimmy recognized at once as Rudolf Stork. Even in that light,
there was no mistaking his broad, sloping shoulders and his slovenly
gait. Stork carried something in his hand; and at first the boy was not
able to make out what this was. He was not left long in doubt, however;
for, when Stork raised it to the level of the taffrails and began to
move up and down a small lever which made a persistent, irregular
tapping sound, it became manifest that the man was in possession of a
signalling lamp, with which he was sending messages to some unknown
point in the darkness that was spread upon the sea.
Jimmy Burke was like one transfixed. He remained motionless and
breathless, amazed at the man's audacity. And before he had time to put
two and two together, to realize the full import of what was happening,
four bells sounded from the forward part of the ship. It was ten
o'clock; Jimmy was expected in the captain's cabin.
Swiftly and silently, the boy got to his feet. As he did so, fearing
that his presence might be discovered, he kept an eye upon Stork, whose
back was turned to him, whose attention was fully occupied with the work
he had in hand. On the surface of the water, in the white wake of the
ship, Jimmy could see the reflection of the signalling lamp that flashed
and flickered with the dots and dashes of the Morse code, as if, in its
own poor way, it strove to imitate the magnificent lighthouse that lay
but a few miles to the north.
And then, on a sudden, from out of the darkness, like an evil eye in the
night, there appeared an answering light--small, far away, and yet
marvellously distinct.
[Illustration: LIKE AN EVIL EYE IN THE NIGHT THERE APPEARED AN ANSWERING
LIGHT.]
Jimmy drew back in horror. For all that, he remained sufficiently
master of himself to keep absolutely silent. Without a sound, he glided
down the companion-ladder to the well-deck, reached the main-deck, and
burst into the captain's cabin.
He had not troubled to knock; and his abrupt entrance caused Crouch to
look up from a volume of sailing instructions he had been in the act of
reading.
"My lad," said he, "we're not over particular here in regard to manners;
but, it's customary to ask permission to enter the captain's cabin."
Then he saw that the boy's face was ashen white, and shaped his lips as
if about to whistle.
"What's up?" said he. "What's up?"
"For mercy's sake," cried Jimmy, "come with me! That villain is
signalling from the poop to a German submarine."
Crouch straightened like a man struck. For fully a minute, he stared at
Jimmy in amazement. There was that in the expression of the boy's face
that left no room for doubt. No one--and Captain Crouch less than any
one--could fail to see that he had spoken what he honestly believed to
be the truth.
"A German submarine!" repeated Crouch.
"What else could it be?" cried Jimmy. "No cruiser, gunboat or destroyer
would dare to show up so far from home. It's a submarine, sir, sure
enough. And the rascal's signalling with a shuttered lantern in the
Morse code, and they have answered back."
Crouch moved quickly to the doorway, and then, coming back into the
room, flung open a drawer in his writing-desk, and took out a small,
nickel-plated revolver that glittered in the lamplight.
"We'll put a stop to this," he cried. "It may not be too late to save
the ship." Followed by the boy, he dashed out upon the deck.
There are scenes in the lives of us all which impress us so vividly at
the time that we carry them with us always in our memory, as clearly and
as permanently as an impression can be made upon a photographic plate.
Jimmy Burke will never forget the moonlit scene that was presented to
his view from the doorway of Captain Crouch's cabin, that was at once
beautiful and terrible. On the starboard side of the ship the rocks of
Cornwall arose from out of the sea in a long, dark, rugged line, in the
centre of which the Lizard light flashed like a brilliant star. A full
moon hung low in the heavens, tracing a broad, silvery pathway across
the broken surface of the sea. The "Harlech" was moving cumbrously
through the water, on a course almost due east, when, on a sudden, in
the full light of the moon, there rose out of the water, like some
hideous monster of the under-sea, the periscope and conning-tower of an
enormous submarine, upon the side of which was just discernible the
ominous and dreaded letters--U93.