Rammed
THE echoes of the explosion had scarce died away when the
_Portchester Castle_ turned and steamed back to pick up her two
boats. She was still about two miles off, and nearly three times that
distance from the receding _Two-Step_.
The crews of the cutter and the whaler were busily engaged in coiling
away the undamaged grass ropes. The connecting span had, of course,
been blown to bits by the detonation. Both boats had to be baled out,
for a quantity of water hurled skywards by the exploded mines had
fallen into the little craft. Webb's command was flooded to a depth
of a couple of inches over the bottom boards, while the whaler had
considerably more water in her.
"Look astern, sir!" exclaimed the coxswain of the cutter.
The Sub glanced across his shoulder. The sea in the vicinity had now
almost regained its mirror-like aspect, but in the direction
indicated by the petty officer its surface was rippled by a tell-tale
swell, as if some large object were moving slowly at a considerable
depth.
"Stand by, lads!" ordered Webb. "Oars!"
The blades had barely touched the water when, at a distance of less
than five yards from the cutter, appeared the twin periscopes of a
submarine--this time the genuine article.
The U-boat, for such she was, had been lurking in the vicinity of the
decoy. Her kapitan had seen the approach of the _Portchester Castle_
and the tramp, and feeling confident that the booby periscope would
be noticed, had remained to watch the effect of the Englanders'
curiosity.
On hearing the explosion he wrongly concluded that the experiment had
not been a successful one, as far as the inquisitive vessel was
concerned; and after a brief interval he ordered the U-boat to the
surface, with the intention of gloating over the sinking of yet
another strafed English ship.
"Back port--pull starboard!" ordered Webb.
Almost in her own length the cutter swung round until she lay
broadside on to the appearing periscopes, which were still forging
ahead and momentarily showing higher and higher above the surface.
Drawing his revolver the Sub took steady aim at almost point-blank
range. It was practically impossible to miss. The mirrors on the top
of the periscope were shattered. The next instant, the foremost metal
pipe of the now blinded submarine was grinding against the cutter's
gunwale.
"Cutter ahoy!" shouted Haynes.
[Illustration: "THE SUBMARINE WAS NOW IN AN AWKWARD PLIGHT"]
The whaler was now a hundred yards off, and the cutter lay between
her and the still submerged U-boat. Haynes had heard the double
report of the revolver shots, and was at a loss to account for
Webb's seemingly inexplicable act.
"Come alongside as hard as you can!" shouted Webb; then addressing
the bowman of the cutter he ordered: "A couple of hitches with your
painter, man."
The bowman acted promptly. In a few seconds the cutter had swung
round and was being urged at a steady rate through the water with her
painter made fast to the foremost of the damaged periscopes.
Haynes, too, had now grasped the situation. The whaler, urged at the
greatest speed by the rowers, was quickly on the spot. Her painter
was then secured to the aftermost periscope.
The two Subs were now keenly on the alert for further developments.
The point to consider was whether the U-boat would attempt to
continue to ascend, or make a frantic effort to submerge completely.
In the former case both boats would have to be trimmed by the head to
counteract the lifting power of the invisible submarine; in the
latter case all hands, with the exception of the bowman, would have
to crowd aft in order to impart the greatest buoyancy to the for'ard
portion of the boats.
The submarine was now in an awkward plight. In spite of the fact that
her displacement was something in the neighbourhood of six hundred
tons she had little reserve of buoyancy, represented by the weight of
water in her ballast tanks. Against this she was hampered by the two
boats, the cutter weighing a little over a ton without her crew and
gear, and the whaler supplying a dead weight of nearly half that of
her consort.
The U-boat dare not rise. To do so, even if she were capable of the
fact with the two "millstones" literally hanging round her neck, she
would be running an unknown risk, since she was unaware of the nature
of the obstruction. Nor could she dive with safety. Before she could
admit sufficient water ballast to make her heavy enough to swamp the
two boats, the strain would wrench the periscopes from the
submarine's hull. In spite of the intricate valves, the wrench
imparted to her mechanism would make it an impossibility to prevent
quantities of water entering the interior, and send the U-boat down
for good and all.
"We've got her, old man!" explained Haynes joyously.
"And she's got us, too," replied Webb. "Sort of marine game of beggar
my neighbour."
Haynes was certainly right, and so was his brother officer. Until the
_Portchester Castle_ arrived to render assistance the struggle looked
like being a dead heat, unless----
Yes, Webb knew that there was an "unless"--a mighty unpleasant one.
There was a possibility that the U-boat's skipper would not
surrender. Rather he would explode the war-heads of the torpedoes
still within the hull, and send the submarine to instant destruction,
at the same time involving the annihilation of the two boats and
their crews.
At all costs Webb determined to "stand fast", but it was with mingled
feelings of elation and apprehension that he regarded the shadowy
outlines of his "capture", as the enormous hull showed dimly at
twelve feet beneath the surface. Air bubbles broke upon the slightly
agitated waves as the U-boat strove either to "sound" or break away
and rise awash. At intervals her twin screws churned the water,
sometimes going ahead and sometimes astern, with the result that the
cutter and the whaler crashed gunwale to gunwale half a dozen times
in twice as many minutes. Only the skilful and strenuous endeavours
of their crews prevented the strongly-built sides from collapsing
like shattered egg-shells.
All this while the _Portchester Castle_ was bearing down upon the
boats. Captain M'Bride knew that something unusual was taking place.
The erratic movements of the two craft told him that, but he was at a
loss to understand the reason.
"Cutter ahoy!" came a hail through a megaphone from the armed
merchantman's bridge.
"What are you foul of?"
One of the boat's crew, producing two handflags, dexterously balanced
himself upon one of the thwarts.
"Hooked a submarine, sir," he reported.
"How does she lie?" was the skipper's next question.
"Bows away from you, sir; her stern's swinging on to your port bow."
This knowledge was of importance, for, although the U-boat was blind,
it was just possible that her crew might discharge a torpedo on the
off chance of the missile getting home.
"Stand by to cast off roundly," came the next order from the
_Portchester Castle_. "I'm going to ram her aft."
"Now for it," thought Tom Webb. "If we're not in the ditch within the
next fifty seconds I'll be very much mistaken."
The Sub had barely expressed himself thus, when with a quivering jerk
the U-boat shot above the surface, exposing the whole of the after
part of the conning-tower, although the fore part was still beneath
the surface. She was so down by the head that the blades of her stern
hydroplanes were visible. Realizing that it was touch-and-go, the
German skipper had released the emergency metal keel with which these
craft are equipped.
Owing to their short painters, the cutter and the whaler were swung
in close alongside the rounded hull, their bows hoisted clear of the
water by the terrific strain upon their bow ropes.
Several of their crews had been flung upon the bottom boards and
stern-sheets, while streams of water from the U-boat's deck
threatened to swamp the frail craft alongside.
Instantly the after hatch of the submarine was flung open, and,
headed by a stout, fair-haired _leutnant_, the German crew armed with
revolvers began to pour through the narrow opening on to the U-boat's
decks.
There was no indication on their part of a wish to surrender. It was
evidently going to be a hand-to-hand scrap 'twixt British and
Germans.
The submarine's officer had taken in part of the situation at a
glance. Shouting to a couple of hands to cut the painters, he led the
rest of the men in a headlong rush towards the two boats, the Huns
opening a hot but erratic fire from their small-arms. Unfortunately
for him the _leutnant_ had not noticed in his haste the _Portchester
Castle's_ approach, until a warning shout from one of the Germans
revealed the immediate danger.
The attack stopped immediately. Throwing down their revolvers the
Huns raised their hands above their heads, shouting "Mercy, kamerad!"
at the fullest pitch of their lungs, some directing their appeal
towards the British seamen in the boats, others towards the vengeful
merchant-cruiser.
"Cast off!" shouted Webb. "Back, men, for all you're worth."
Deftly the bowman of the cutter severed the painter. With a flop the
boat's bows slid down the bulging sides of the submarine, and, backed
by the vigorous efforts of half a dozen rowers, drew away from the
doomed pirate.
No human effort on the part of Captain M'Bride could now avert the
work of destruction that the _Portchester Castle_ had already
attempted. It was impossible to check the momentum of thousands of
tons of metal, moving at fifteen knots through the water; nor could a
change of helm be effected in time to allow the ship to glide
harmlessly astern. Hulling the U-boat's side at a distance of about
fifty feet from her stern, the _Portchester Castle's_ sharp bows cut
completely through the doomed craft. The after part sank like a
stone; the major portion rolling over until the top of the
conning-tower dipped beneath the surface, floated for nearly thirty
seconds, emitting air, oil, and petrol, and disappeared from view.
This much Tom Webb saw; then in front of his field of vision appeared
the towering hull of the armed merchantman as she tore past. Caught
between the vortex caused by the sunken U-boat and the sharp-crested
wave from her destroyer's bow, the cutter was completely overset, and
in the midst of a smother of foam the Sub found himself swimming for
dear life.