The Bomb in the Hold
"WELL, that's a cool request," soliloquized Webb. "The old chap wants
us to act the part of the cat, and hook the monkey's chestnuts out of
the fire. All in a day's work, I suppose."
He glanced at the Portuguese skipper, who was anxiously awaiting the
Sub's reply.
"It seems to me a simple matter," said Tom, "to clap on the hatches
and carry them into the Tagus. We'll have to tow you, I suppose.
There are several of your war-ships off Belem, and I fancy they'll be
only too glad of a chance to collar a few Huns."
The captain of the _Douro_ shook his head.
"Senhor, you do not quite understand. These pirates are armed. We are
not. Moreover they threaten to blow up the ship."
"Very good," decided the Sub. "Unship the hatches. Stand by, men;
take cover until we find out what these rascals intend doing. Laddie,
you imp of mischief, keep to heel."
The dog obeyed, reluctantly. Already he had his suspicions that there
was danger. His instinct prompted him to bound forward and grapple
with the foe.
Deftly the fore hatchway cover was drawn aside. A ray of brilliant
sunshine penetrating the narrow opening played with a pendulum-like
movement into the dark recesses as the vessel rolled from side to
side. The Sub deemed it safe to show himself, since the eyes of the
imprisoned Huns were likely to be dazzled by the sudden glare.
"Now then!" he shouted sternly. "Do you surrender?"
"Nein," was the guttural reply; "we vos stop here. If you attempt to
damage us do, den we der ship sink."
"All right, please yourself," rejoined Webb coolly. "Only remember,
you'll be cooped up under hatches, and I need not remind you that
it's a mighty unpleasant death, and you have only yourselves to blame
for the consequences of your rash decision."
The trapped Huns conversed amongst themselves for some moments.
Apparently their spokesman had been impressed by the Sub's view of
the situation, and was communicating the news to his fellows.
"Don't hurry on our account," continued Webb cheerfully. "The odds
are that we shall get to the Mediterranean before your submarine. But
please do make up your minds."
"You vos our lives spare?" enquired the Hun spokesman anxiously.
"Of course; you will be treated as prisoners of war," replied the
young officer promptly.
"Every von of us?"
"Yes, every man jack of you."
"Goot; den we surrender make."
One by one five Germans stumbled up the ladder, each man raising his
hands high above his head as he appeared above the coaming. Mistrust
was written upon their brutal-looking faces until they found that no
attempt was made to harm them. Then their demeanour became insolently
defiant towards the smiling young officer.
Webb stepped aside and conferred with the Portuguese captain. The
latter nodded his head emphatically.
"Si, senhor; there were _six_," he declared.
The smile vanished from Webb's face.
"Which of you speak English?" he enquired of the five prisoners.
"Me," replied the man who had tendered the surrender. "Before der war
I vos in der English merchantship----"
"Never mind about what you were," said Webb. "The point is: six of
you boarded this vessel. There are only five on deck. How about it?"
"We tell you all about it when in the boat we vos," declared the
spokesman, glancing over the side at the waiting cutter.
"You'll tell me now," corrected the Sub with unmistakable firmness.
"Otherwise I'll have you put in irons."
For a brief instant the Hun hesitated.
"Der six man, Hans, below is," he explained. "He vos stop and light a
bomb. Ach! You vos do nodings. You promise make to all our lives
spare."
The Sub realized that he had been done. It was up to him to do his
best, even at the risk of his life, to prevent the destruction of the
ship. It was obviously unfair to risk the lives of his men in a task
that, but for his precipitate pledge, need never have been
undertaken.
"Keep those fellows on deck under close arrest. The boarding party
will remain here," he exclaimed, addressing the coxswain petty
officer of the cutter. "I'm going below."
Without hesitation Webb descended the ladder into the gloomy depths
of the fore hold. Groping until his feet touched the iron floor, he
waited while his eyes grew accustomed to the dim light. The place was
crowded with cargo, for the most part tiers of barrels. Fore and aft
ran a narrow space, terminating at the transverse steel bulkheads.
A faint hissing sound was borne to his ears. For'ard a splutter of
dim reddish sparks told him that already the time-fuse had been
lighted; but the Hun responsible for the firing of the bomb had not
yet bolted for the deck. Was it possible that he was going to throw
away his life in a useless act of revenge upon the _Douro_? Or was
the time-fuse of sufficient length for him to remain in the hold for
several minutes before making a dash for safety?
In any case the Sub had no time to debate upon the situation. His
chief concern was to save the ship. Unhesitatingly he made his way
towards the hissing fuse.
"Tamped" by means of a bale of cotton, the bomb had been placed
against the curved tapering side of the ship. Only a few inches of
the fuse was visible. It seemed a matter of a few seconds before the
powerful explosive would be detonated.
Placing his boot upon the ignited tape, Webb severed the fuse. As he
knelt there, in order to make certain that the sparks were thoroughly
extinguished, a pair of powerful hands gripped him from behind. The
desperate Hun, hitherto hidden in the after part of the hold, had
thrown himself upon the young officer.
Taken by surprise, although he had been prepared for a frontal
attack, Webb found himself stretched upon his back with a burly
Teuton kneeling on his chest. The Hun's left hand was pressed over
the Sub's mouth, thus effectually preventing him from making a sound,
while with his right the fellow groped for the severed portion of the
fuse, which, released from the pressure of Webb's boot, had again
burst into a splutter of angry sparks.
[Illustration: "ONE BY ONE _FIVE_ GERMANS STUMBLED UP THE LADDER"]
For a seemingly interminable time Webb struggled desperately yet
unavailingly. Slowly yet surely the relentless pressure on his chest
was telling. Multitudes of lights flashed before his eyes; vainly he
gasped for breath, writhing frantically to refill his lungs with air.
Dimly he wondered why his men had not come to his assistance. His
mind was too confused to remember that it was by his express order
that he had forbidden anyone to accompany him upon his hazardous
enterprise.
Suddenly the Hun gave vent to a yell of terror. His grasp relaxed.
Again he yelled, this time the scream trailing off into a muffled,
choking sob. A savage and determined snarl gave the half-dazed Tom an
inkling of the identity of his rescuer. It was Laddie.
Unseen and unheard by the Sub the sheep-dog had followed him down the
ladder. Eager to face the danger, yet fearing to pass his master's
chum, the dog had lurked in the darkness until the German had
launched his treacherous attack. In reality the seemingly long
interval during which Webb was at the mercy of his assailant was but
a few seconds, for with a bound Laddie flew at the Hun's neck.
At the first contact of the animal's teeth in the back of his neck
the Hun had yelled. An instant later Laddie had shifted his grip, and
was savagely worrying the German's throat. Vainly the man strove to
throw off his four-footed enemy. Laddie was not to be denied.
Hearing the sound of the encounter, and guessing rightly that their
young officer was in danger, several of the cutter's crew swarmed
down into the fore hold. They were barely in time to save the German
from death. Even then the dog was reluctant to relax his jaws.
Once more the still fizzling portion of the severed fuse was
extinguished. The prisoner was hauled unceremoniously out of the
hold, while Webb was assisted to the deck, where in the open air he
soon recovered sufficiently to direct operations.
"They're signalling, sir," reported the coxswain, indicating the
_Portchester Castle_, which now lay about a quarter of a mile on the
port beam of the _Douro_. "They want to know what the delay is for."
"Tell them that the vessel's engines are disabled, that an attempt
has been made to destroy her by means of bombs, and that we have six
prisoners. Ask instructions how to proceed."
A signalman perched upon the guard-rail of the _Douro's_ shattered
bridge quickly sent the message. After a brief interval came the
order:
"Cutter to be recalled. Bring off prisoners. Inform commanding
officer of _Douro_ that we propose to take her in tow."
Without resistance the six Huns were bundled into the boat. The Hun
who had attacked Webb in the hold was now quite incapable of so
doing, even had he been inclined. With a bandage applied to his
lacerated throat he crouched in the stern-sheets, anxiously watching
with ill-concealed terror Laddie's fierce-looking blue eyes.
The Portuguese skipper was profuse in his expressions of thanks when
Sub-lieutenant Webb took his departure. For the time being all danger
was at an end. There was every reason to believe that the _Douro_
would in safety make her destination.
"Very good, carry on," was Captain Staggles's stereotyped remark
after Tom had made his report. The Sub saluted and went aft,
wondering dimly what manner of man his new skipper could be, since
his spoken expression of the Sub's conduct was limited to four words.
For the next twelve hours the _Portchester Castle_ towed the crippled
_Douro_. Late in the afternoon the latter was taken over by a couple
of tugs that had been summoned from the Tagus by wireless. Free to
resume her interrupted voyage, the British armed merchantman
acknowledged the dip of the Portuguese ensign, and was soon reeling
off the miles that separated her from Gibraltar.