Sunnydene. When he got close to the front gate of Green Croft, and
again looked searchingly outward, he distinguished the shadowy forms of
three great battleships, led by two light cruisers. They were steaming
southward, with their broadsides towards the land.
Suddenly, from the foremost battleship, there came a flash. She was
hidden in a cloud of smoke. He heard a shrill shriek, and saw a high
fountain of spray rise from the deep water inside Alderwick Shoal, where
a shot had fallen. At the same moment there was a terrible,
ear-splitting, earth-shaking boom.
Seth trembled from head to foot; less with fear than with boyish
excitement. Was it possible that he was, after all, going to witness at
first hand some actual incident of the great war? His heart was beating
furiously against his ribs; he went hot and cold by turns. He knew that
he stood in danger. The next shot might come farther than the sea!
"I wonder if I'm afraid?" he asked himself.
Then he thought of the people in the houses near him, and of his duty as
a Scout. If the danger should come nearer, how could he give help? He
remembered the refuge trench which he had helped to dig in Mrs.
Daplin-Gennery's garden. Now most surely was a time for it to be used!
He ran in at the gateway and up the gravelled drive. The window blinds
were down, the front door was shut. He went round to the back entrance
and was about to hammer at the kitchen door when it was flung open.
Mrs. Daplin-Gennery stood in the passage, wearing a blue dressing-gown.
Her long, black hair hung loose over her shoulders, making her face look
very white. Her arms were bare, and he saw that she held a revolver in
her right hand. Behind her were other women--her lady's maid, the Irish
cook, the parlourmaid, and two others.
Seth Newruck raised his hand in the Scouts' salute.
"You'd better all get into the trench, ma'am," he advised. "There's a
lot of German warships out there beyond the sandbank."
Even as he spoke there came the loud, whistling rush of a shell overhead
and a terrific explosion rent the air as the thing fell somewhere in the
fields beyond. The servants screamed. Mrs. Daplin-Gennery alone was
calm.
"Are there troopships and Zeppelins with them?" she questioned. "Are
they going to land? Is it an invasion?"
"No." Seth shook his head. "I don't think so. But, anyhow, you'd
better take shelter in the dug-out."
Mrs. Daplin-Gennery stood aside, thrusting the others in advance of her.
They had more than once rehearsed this scene. One by one they
obediently and very quickly rushed forward and disappeared into the sap
trench. Their mistress followed, but hesitated half-way down the sunken
ladder.
"You must come, too," she called to Seth. "There is plenty of room."
Seth drew back a step and turned as if to leave.
"As soon as you're all safe in the dug-out," he responded quietly, "I'm
going to run home, to look after my mother and sisters. Father's out
with the Fleet."
There was another loud boom of a gun; but this time it came from the
direction of Buremouth.
"Quick! Come into the trench!" urged Mrs. Daplin-Gennery, now at the
foot of the ladder and out of sight. "You'll get killed if you don't.
And if they land troops--if it's an invasion--you must stay and defend
us helpless women. You're the only male person here. Besides, you're a
Scout; you know what to do if any of us are wounded."
This argument presented a new aspect of the situation. Seth descended
the ladder, and as he turned into the darkness of the sap trench the
pistol was thrust into his hand.
"If a German shows his face, shoot him!" he was ordered.
"They won't land, ma'am," he declared with confidence, following along
the covered way to the refuge of the sunken bicycle shed under its
protecting mound of sandbags and earth. "They couldn't land through
shoal water."
His further assurances were cut short by a deafening explosion. The
earth shook, there was a prolonged roar and clatter of tumbling masonry,
mingled with the splitting of timber and the crashing of glass.
"Wirra-wirra!" cried the Irish cook. "It's the house they've struck,
and we'll all be kilt entirely!"
A shower of loose sand, dislodged by the concussion, fell through the
cracks in the roof of the shelter, the support timbers creaked
ominously. Then suddenly all was silent except for the cries of the
frightened kitchenmaid.
Seth ran back along the covered way and found the entrance blocked by a
confusion of fallen bricks and garden soil. But there was a second exit
which admitted light and air to the refuge, with a second ladder. Up
this ladder he climbed and thrust out his head above ground to see what
damage had been done and discover if the house were on fire.
His nostrils were assailed by the pungent fumes from the exploded
eleven-inch shell. Clouds of drifting smoke and dust obscured his view;
but as they cleared he saw that the gable end of the house had fallen,
carrying with it a chimney-stack and some of the wrecked furniture of an
upper room. The windows were all smashed. The shell seemed to have
burst somewhere between the adjoining stables and the conservatory, both
of which were a mass of ruins.
"It's a good thing nobody is hurt," he said, returning to report on what
he had seen. "You're quite safe now. I don't suppose a second shot
will be aimed at the same place."
There was another fierce explosion, very near. Again and again the guns
boomed out their thunder. The sounds of bursting shells came clear and
sharp, repeated again and again as the bombardment of the town was
continued.
"I can't be of any more use here," said Seth, returning the revolver to
Mrs. Daplin-Gennery. "When the firing stops, you can get out all right.
I must go now. I believe Major Redisham's house has been struck.
They're firing their broadsides right into the heart of the town now!
Listen!"
He was back at the ladder; but the lady's maid held him.
"Don't leave us!" she implored agitatedly. "It's not all over yet. Stay
where you are."
He yielded to her entreaties. The enemy ships had gone about and were
returning abreast of the town, firing salvos as they passed, steaming
very quickly. They must already have got some inkling or suspicion that
a squadron of British cruisers was coming down in hot haste from the
northward, for abruptly they ceased firing and turned outward,
disappearing into the mist. They had run risks out of all proportion to
the gain of such a cowardly raid.
Straight across from Wilhelmshaven they had made their bold dash for the
English coast to bombard a couple of undefended towns which they might
attack without venturing too far south or too far north, or lingering
too long. If they stayed no more than one brief hour in English waters
and then fled for very life, they had reason. Quick of heel and heavy
of hand as they were, they owed their escape wholly to the fog which
shielded them.
Coming out from the trench, Seth Newruck ran through the front garden to
the edge of the cliff and saw the _Kingfisher_ returning to port with
her topmast broken and her bridge badly battered.
He turned in at Major Redisham's gate, hoping to find Mark. The house
had not been touched by the shell fire. Mrs. Redisham and her two
daughters and servants had taken refuge in their dug-out. They were
excited, but not frightened. Their chief anxiety was about Mark, who
had gone out after supper on the previous night and not come back.
Seth offered to make inquiries concerning him, saying he was sure to be
all right somewhere, and ran off again.
At the top of the town he encountered Mark in a strange motor-car. Mark
pulled up at sight of him.
"Do you know if my people are safe?" he asked.
"Yes. I've just seen them," Seth answered. "They're only worried a bit
to know where you've been all night. Whose car have you got?"
"I'm not quite sure," Mark laughed. "I suppose it may be considered a
prize of war. We captured it last night, Challis and I, along with the
German spy who was using it. Jump in! There's no real need for me to
go home, now that I know they're safe. I will telephone to them from
the post-office. It's pretty awful down there. Ever so many people
have been killed and injured. Mr. Bilverstone has got a whole troop of
nurses and stretcher-bearers at work. Come along, we can help."
Seth jumped up beside him. They drove past the lighthouse, where a
shell had struck and exploded, doing considerable damage, then turned
aside to ascertain that Seth's mother and sisters were safe.
Some dwelling-houses near the Town Hall had been wrecked. Windows were
smashed everywhere; an hotel in the market-place was in ruins.
Mark made room for two women and three children who were seriously
injured, and conveyed them to the hospital; then he went about the town,
using the car for ambulance work and giving first-aid where he could.
The hospital staff, the doctors, with the police, the local Scouts, and
many other willing helpers were kept busy. Over thirty persons had been
killed, more than a hundred were severely injured. The damage to
property could not easily be measured, but the most serious destruction
was in the crowded quarters of the old town where the fishermen lived.
In the course of his work of taking the injured to the hospital, Mark
Redisham called at the police-station. A side of the building had been
shattered by one of the German shells. The wall and a part of the roof
had fallen in, burying a warder and two prisoners in the ruins. Men
were engaged in clearing away the debris of bricks and tiles and heavy
wooden joists. They had rescued the warder and one of the prisoners,
only slightly hurt.
Mark waited until the third victim should be found. A heavy beam of
timber had to be lifted. It was moved at last, and Mark saw what was
beneath it.
"It's the German spy!" he cried. "It's Fritz Seligmann. He's
dead--quite dead!--killed by his own friends!"
*CHAPTER XXIII.*
*STRIKING THE BALANCE.*
In their hurried flight from Haddisport and Buremouth, the raiding
Germans had made a novel and unexpected departure from the recognised
methods of warfare. By dropping floating mines in their wake, they
showed that their battleships may be more dangerous in retreat than when
advancing.
Retreat is not an inspiring proceeding; it depresses the spirits of
officers and men, and this would be very evident in the case of the
German seamen who had so long boasted of the great things they would
accomplish when a naval war came. But if when their ships were in
flight the crews knew that they were laying snares to trip up their
pursuers their retreat would be robbed of its depressing effects. Any
British vessels of war venturing to follow on their heels would
inevitably be destroyed.
They were not yet hidden in the fog when Lieutenant Ingoldsby's
submarine, manoeuvring to torpedo them, ran up against one of their
mines and was instantly sunk, with the loss of her gallant commander and
every one of his crew. Hardly had the H29 disappeared when two of the
patrolling trawlers, steaming up to her rescue, were also sent to the
bottom.
The German light cruisers must have been fitted for this purpose of mine
sowing. When the battleships were advancing, these smaller, high-speed
scouts would act as a screen, and in retreat they would keep astern of
the big ships, dropping a trail of small mines overboard as they fled.
The sacrifice of the H29 and the two trawlers was a serious disaster;
but at the same time it taught our Navy a valuable lesson in tactics.
Never again would any British warship pursuing a German follow directly
in the wake, but always on a parallel course.
It was the wounded _Kingfisher_ which brought into Haddisport the news
that a new mine-field had been sown. A fleet of mine-sweepers, led by
the gunboat _Stormcock_, was at once sent out. It included the
_Dainty_, with Mark Redisham on board, and throughout the rest of that
exciting day the people on shore were startled by repeated loud
detonations as the floating mines were one after another exploded by
gunfire from the trawler's decks.
The _Dainty_ and three of her consorts remained at sea for a week, doing
patrol duty--cruising between the English coasts and the Bight of
Heligoland in search of enemy ships or ships carrying contraband of war.
They were now armed with machine-guns and could defend themselves in
emergency.
At this time the chief interests of the war were centred upon the
commerce destroyers on the outer seas and the military operations in
France and Flanders. The Germans were making their great effort to
force a way through to Calais. Their navy was hemmed in by the watchful
British Fleet, and for a long time after the bombardment of Haddisport
the North Sea was clear of their ships. There was no target for British
naval guns.
Some few of their destroyers and submarines, it is true, contrived to
steal out from the protection of their fortified harbours, and two
British cruisers--the _Hawke_ and the _Hermes_--were sunk by their
torpedoes.
Fearing to risk their battleships in an engagement on the open sea, the
enemy were using their small craft in the pirate work of sinking
innocent merchantmen and fishing boats. They had seized the Belgian
port of Zeebrugge, and were making this a base for submarines.
It was surmised that they intended also to station a force of torpedo
boats at Antwerp, in spite of the breach of Dutch neutrality which the
use of the River Scheldt would imply. But to enter either seaport they
had to run the gauntlet of our North Sea patrols, and on at least one
occasion they met with complete disaster.
A patrol of English trawlers was cruising off the Dutch coast, not far
from the mouth of the Scheldt. Mark Redisham, on board the _Dainty_, was
enduring as best he could the dull monotony of his confined life on a
small vessel pitching uncomfortably on a rough sea in a bitterly cold
wind. He was walking the wet deck, his oilskins dripping with rain,
when he saw smoke on the dim horizon to the north. It came from the
funnels of four torpedo-boat destroyers.
Mark watched them, and presently determined that they were Germans,
making for the Scheldt.
"You'd best rap out a wireless message," said Skipper Snowling.
"I don't think there's any need," returned Mark. "Look what's coming
along behind them!"
He indicated a second cloud of smoke, much greater in volume than the
first, and blacker. The Germans also had evidently seen it, for they had
put on full steam, doing their best to escape. Whatever their pursuers
might be, they were quickly lessening the distance that divided them
from their prey. Mark watched the chase excitedly.
The four enemy boats were small compared with British destroyers; but
they were going at quite twenty-six knots speed. Each was armed with
three quick-firing guns and two machine-guns, and carried a crew of
sixty officers and men. They flashed past, paying no attention to the
trawlers.
Through the black oil smoke in the distance could now be distinguished a
British light cruiser and four destroyers, rushing along like railway
trains, with their high prows smothered in white spray. They were
overhauling the Germans hand over hand.
"They can't escape! They can't escape!" cried the skipper.
Apparently the fugitives realised this; for they turned abruptly to
starboard and at once opened fire on their pursuers. The distance
between was about four miles, and it was at this range that the British
cruiser, and her consorts, extending themselves into line abreast
formation, began their cannonade. The shells from the two opposing
sides crossed in front of the patrol of trawlers, which stood by,
witnessing the fierce combat.
It lasted hardly more than an hour, a running fight in which everything
depended upon marksmanship and in which the superiority of the British
gunnery was from the first apparent.
A few moments after the action began, the leading German boat was struck
in a vital part. Clouds of wreckage and smoke filled the air about her
as the British lyddite shells hit her and exploded, smashing the thin
steel plating of her hull. When the smoke cleared, there was nothing
left of her but a few survivors struggling in the waves.
The remaining three vessels, still going at full speed, tried to dodge
the shots, while their own guns were kept at work. The British
destroyers had selected each her own target, and continued pounding away
at it from a distance. Superior range and weight of guns soon proved
their advantage. The second of the German boats was sunk, then the
third, and finally the fourth; the Kaiser's Navy was poorer by the loss
of four useful units.
Promptly, when the first of them went down, the trawler patrol hastened
to the spot to pick up survivors. From all four some few were rescued,
to be taken to England as prisoners.
Three officers and ten men had been saved by the _Dainty_ when the
cruiser steamed near, stopped, and dropped one of her boats. As the
boat came alongside, Mark Redisham glanced instinctively at the men's
caps and was surprised to read the name H.M.S. _Dauntless_. He looked
at the midshipman in the stern sheets. It was his brother Rodney.
"So that's your new ship?" said Mark when they had greeted each other.
"She's a smart one. I hope there are not many casualties."
"Hardly any to speak of," Rodney answered. "One officer and four men
slightly wounded, that's all; and hardly a scratch on any one of the
ships. We've wiped off an old score, anyhow. What we've just done will
balance the loss of the _Atreus_."
"Yes," interposed one of the German officers who had been listening very
attentively. "But the balance is still considerably in favour of
Germany. You are forgetting what our _Emden_ has done; you are
forgetting how our Admiral von Spee annihilated a squadron of your
Dreadnoughts, how one of our tiny submarines recently sent three of your
best cruisers to the bottom. Did we not sink two more of your cruisers
only last week? Have we not successfully bombarded your fortified coast
towns----?"
What more he would have said was left unspoken, for at that moment one
of the bluejackets in the boat leapt from his seat and seized him by the
throat with one strong hand, while he lifted the other to strike him.
"Stop that! Stop that!" cried Rodney Redisham in a voice of stern
command.
The seaman instantly let go his hold and stood back abashed.
"Beg pardon, sir," he said humbly, touching his cap; "but my brother Tom
went down with the _Atreus_; my mother and sister were killed by a
German shell in Haddisport, and I didn't reckon I was doin' no harm in
goin' for the first German as have come within reach of my fist."
"It is not English to strike a prisoner, however," the midshipman
reminded him.
For some reason which Mark Redisham did not understand, none of the
prisoners were left on board the _Dainty_. They were distributed among
her three consorts, which followed the flotilla towards Harwich, leaving
the commodore to return alone to Haddisport.
Skipper Snowling took her northward along the Dutch coast before making
a slant across the Silver Pit. He had not gone many miles when a German
destroyer came in sight, bearing down towards him.
"Looks as if she was a straggler from that other lot," Snowling
continued, and he altered his course to get nearer to a Norwegian
steamer to the west of him.
To his surprise and annoyance, the destroyer also altered course and
gave chase. Snowling put on more steam, and, as a precaution, got his
machine gun ready for action, with Mark Redisham at the breech. In
their weeks of mine-sweeping work Mark had proved himself an excellent
shot. He had seldom failed to explode a mine when firing at it.
The German signalled to the _Dainty_ to stop and haul down her flag, but
the White Ensign remained proudly at the trawler's masthead and her
engines never went so well.
The destroyer opened fire and there was an immediate reply from the gun
on the trawler's deck. Mark aimed with cool precision and made many
direct hits in vital parts, while shots from the German fell thick
around him.
The two vessels blazed away at each other as hard as they could for
about a quarter of an hour, no great damage being done on either side.
But the destroyer, with her greater speed, was quickly overhauling the
mine-sweeper, and at last the two came broadside to broadside.
"Look out, chaps!" cried Mark. "She's going to torpedo us!"
All the hands wore their safety collars and lifebelts, and the boat was
swung out ready over the quarter rail. The skipper was at the steering
wheel.
"Keep cool all," commanded Snowling. "Let 'em know as we're Britons.
Give her another peppering, Mark!"
Mark and his assistants had already shown that they were better
gun-layers than their enemies, and their next cannonade sent splinters
flying from the destroyer's decks. Her wireless machinery and aerial
was already wrecked. Her guns were silent for a while as she manoeuvred
to discharge a torpedo.
Suddenly Harry Snowling put his helm hard over, the _Dainty_ swung round
bow on, and she raced forward like a mad animal direct for the destroyer
and crashed into her amidships, her powerful prow smashing like a
battering-ram into the steel plates.
The destroyer's bridge fell over, and the five officers and men who had
stood upon it were flung headlong into the sea.
The trawler's engines were reversed. She backed out of the gaping hole
she had made and then stood still as if to take breath after her
exertion. The German boat, badly damaged, but not injured below water,
just turned round, and, without waiting to pick up any of her men in the
sea, made off as fast as her condition would allow her in the direction
in which she was originally going.
"And now," said Harry Snowling, when the survivors had been picked up
and stowed safely below, "I reckon we may as well steer straight for
home and get a coat of paint over them scratches on our bows."
*CHAPTER XXIV.*
*THE MEETING ON THE CLIFF.*
"Beautiful view from here," remarked the stranger, dropping the stub of
his cigarette on the pavement of the esplanade. "I should say it must
be sharming in der spring, ven der gorse vos all in bloom. It minds me
of Scotland."
He spoke very softly, with a slightly Scotch accent--or was it merely
broken English? Mr. Croucher took it to be Scotch; but he was not very
quick at recognising accent, and perhaps it was the reference to
Scotland which gave him the idea.
"Yes," he agreed, "nice, pure air, too. It's what I call clean air."
"But in ze vinter," the stranger resumed, "it is probable ze beople in
dese houses get much more air than zey vant."
Mr. Croucher turned with his back to the sea and contemplated the houses
referred to. They had a new interest for him this morning. It was the
first time he had seen them since the visit of the German raiders. The
house directly opposite him was as seriously damaged as if an earthquake
had shaken its foundations. The windows were smashed and boarded up, a
large part of the roof had fallen in; the gable end was in ruin, and
some of the bulging walls were shored up with beams of wood.
The stranger also had turned and was regarding the wrecked dwelling
curiously, with his watery, blue eyes blinking through gold-rimmed
spectacles.
"You have had a fire here, it seems," he casually observed, standing
slightly back so that Mr. Croucher should not look into his face and
penetrate its disguise.
It was a flabby, clean-shaven face, with a double chin which was partly
hidden by the wide, turned-up collar of his heavy overcoat. He was a
tall, robust man. At first sight of him Mr. Croucher had supposed him
to be a naval officer in mufti.
"No," explained Mr. Croucher, "it wasn't a fire. All that devastation is
the result of the bombardment the other morning. It was awful while it
lasted. They started firing just opposite here," he pursued; glad to
have a listener, and proceeded to give an ample account of the
bombardment and its results, concluding with a reference to the sinking
of submarine H29. "Her commander, Lieutenant Ingoldsby, lived in the
very house we're now looking at," he added.
From Green Croft the stranger transferred his attention to Sunnydene, a
little farther towards the end of the cliff.