mischievous as men? Do you not realise that our enemies' children will
grow up to be enemy men and women? Bah! Do not make such a mistake. We
are engaged in war, and war has its necessities. The British people
know their own danger. If they go upon the seas, it is at their own
risks. We cannot discriminate between the innocent and the guilty.
All, indeed, are guilty if they so much as set foot upon a British
ship."
He strode to and fro restlessly in front of the stove.
"And now," he pursued, after a pause, "what else have you done? What
have you learnt of the enemy's navy? You have been along their coasts;
you have entered their rivers and peeped into their harbours. Where are
their battleships?"
"It would be easier to tell you where they are not," returned Max.
"They are not assembled in the Straits of Dover, or off the Dogger Bank,
or off Haddisport. We have not been able to find them. And yet, _mein
Herr_, I will undertake to say that if our own Great High Sea Fleet were
to sally out beyond the protection of our mine-fields it would not go
far before a squadron of British Dreadnoughts flashed out to give
battle."
Admiral von Hilliger laughed awkwardly.
"My dear Max," he said with forced lightness, "I perceive that you are
still tainted with your false ideas of Britain's strength upon the seas.
You must remember that our German fleet is as yet practically intact.
We are as strong as we were at the beginning of the war, and as ready to
meet the British whenever they choose to come out of their
hiding-places. What you tell me is satisfactory, however. You assure
me once again that the enemy are in close hiding and that they are
afraid to come out and meet us in a pitched battle. Your remark that
they will pounce upon us, once we leave the protection of our
mine-fields, is very funny. Already they have proved many times that
they prefer the security of their own harbours rather than the risk of
facing our guns. We have given them chances; we will give them chances
again. But not in the way they would wish. Listen, my dear Max, I will
tell you something."
Max went nearer to him. The admiral cautiously lowered his voice.
"Our agents have been doing good work," he said. "Helped by your
all-knowing father, they have given away information upon which the
British Admiralty will act. The information, I need hardly tell you, is
false and misleading. But what would you? War is war, and to deceive
and mislead your enemy is one of the essentials of successful strategy.
Is it not true? Well, then, we have to-day issued a secret report that
a squadron of our battleships has crept out, and is now cruising off the
coast of Norway. The Norwegian people have helped us by declaring that
already they have heard the thunder of our naval guns at sea. An hour
ago, we received word that the British Fleet has gone off in force
towards Norway."
"Yes," Max nodded. "It has gone out on what we call a wild-goose chase,
you mean? But in what way shall we benefit?"
Admiral von Hilliger puffed more vigorously than ever at his cigar.
"Is it not obvious to you, my dear?" he questioned. "By alluring them
out of their harbours, we make our path clear. We take our great ships
across to England and do our worst. It is all arranged. We start
to-day--this evening. To-morrow morning, while their gunboats are vainly
searching for a phantom fleet in Norwegian waters, our invincible
battleships will be engaged in firing their shells into the fortified
seaports of Newcastle and Hull."
Max Hilliger allowed himself to smile.
"It is a mere detail that neither Hull nor Newcastle happens to be a
fortified town," he ventured. "But there will be no military advantage
in such a bombardment. The sinking of one battle cruiser would be to us
worth the destruction of half a dozen towns. What good did we do by
smashing a few windows in Haddisport? We gained nothing to balance the
waste of ammunition and the loss of one of our own ships that ran up
against one of our own floating mines! Believe me, my uncle, the
English people are not easily frightened. It will take more than an
hour's bombardment of their seaside villas to put them in a state of
panic."
"In that case," returned the admiral, "we shall take yet stronger
measures to convince them of our frightfulness. This time, we shall
take with us our most powerful battleships. We shall show them that it
is we and not they who hold command of the seas."
He flung his unfinished cigar into the stove and drew his nephew to the
window.
"Look once out there," he said, pointing across the sea to where the
Kaiser's fleet could be dimly seen on the far horizon. "If the
contemptible English could but open their eyes upon those ships, do you
suppose that they would any longer dare to boast of their own paltry
navy? _Ach_, my dear Max, wait! To-morrow you shall see!"
*CHAPTER XXX.*
*DREADNOUGHT AGAINST DREADNOUGHT.*
In the afternoon of that same bleak January day the U50 was warped out
of the Kiel Canal. Her petrol tanks had been filled, she had taken in
fresh water and stores, and now she was bound for Heligoland, there to
receive a new supply of torpedoes and explosive bombs before resuming
her work of preying upon merchant shipping in the British Seas.
From the cliffs of the fortified island, Max Hilliger watched the
squadron of German battleships going out. There were four great
Dreadnought cruisers--_Brandenburg_, _Lessing_, _Mozart_, and
_Goethe_--with six light cruisers of the _Kotzbue_ class, and a flotilla
of torpedo-boat destroyers. As they threaded their way through the
secret lanes of the mine-field, he could hear their bands playing
patriotic German music. He watched them until they disappeared into the
night darkness.
They were timed so that by steaming across the North Sea at twenty-five
knot speed they would be within gun-range of the English coast at
earliest dawn.
Until shortly after midnight, when, with all lights out, they were
crossing the Dogger Bank, the German commanders had no suspicion that
their movements had been observed. Even with the most careful watch
they failed to detect the low black shapes of a patrol of British
destroyers rushing westward in advance of them.
At half-past seven on that wintry Sunday morning, the destroyers were
already in communication with a great squadron of British Dreadnoughts
and cruisers assembled, with steam up, hardly a score of miles ahead of
them to the north-west. Signals were flashed back to the flotilla to
give chase to the enemy, and, while keeping him in sight, report his
movements.
Rodney Redisham was in his bunk in the light cruiser _Dauntless_ when
the bugle sounded "General Quarters." He dressed quickly in his warmest
winter clothing and went up on deck. There was a film of mist across
the sea. The air was very cold, and a powder of rime frost lay white
upon the rails, the gun covers, and all upper works.
"The enemy is out!" one of his fellow midshipmen gleefully told him. "I
believe we have nabbed him, this time."
Every man of the ship's company was alert and inwardly excited at the
prospect of an engagement. The decks were cleared for action, guns were
loaded; everything was got ready. Rodney climbed up to the forward
fire-control platform.
From this position he could see the whole of the British battle squadron
as the ships took their places in the line of pursuit, led by the
vice-admiral's big flagship, the _Saturn_. She was closely followed by
the _Avenger_, the _Patroclus_, the _Tremendous_, and the
_Auckland_--five formidable floating fortresses, each carrying eight
13.5-inch guns. Supporting these Dreadnoughts were the _Sarpedon_, the
_Athene_, the _Rutland_, and other light cruisers, escorted by
destroyers. They were steering to the south-east, working up their
speed to a uniform twenty-five knots.
Word soon came back from the advance scouts that the enemy had turned
tail. The Germans had rightly judged that a small flotilla of
destroyers would not alone and unsupported give chase to a squadron of
great battleships, but that they were the screen of a larger force.
Admiral von Hilliger had boasted that he was thirsty to come to grips
with the British fleet, but he was less eager now that his valour was
put to the test. He could bring out a squadron to bombard undefended
towns, but, menaced by an enemy who could hit back, he realised that his
game was up. And so, turning tail, he ran off on a bee line for the
shelter of Heligoland and its protecting mine-fields.
The black smoke from his squadron's funnels was seen blurring the clean
line of the horizon. There were about a hundred and twenty miles of
open sea between him and safety, and behind him, like a pack of vengeful
wolves at his heels, rushed an enemy squadron swifter and more
formidable than his own.
And now the British ships, forming into line abreast and avoiding the
immediate wake of the Germans, piled up yet more steam, tearing through
the water with their bows smothered in white spray as their whirling
turbines worked up their speed to the twenty-eight knot gait of which
the slowest vessel was capable.
Long before they came within sight of their quarry, every man was at his
battle station. All were behind armour: the fire-control parties at
their instruments, the gun-layers with their guns ready to train upon
the first visible target, the hydraulic engines in the turrets pumping
and grunting.
The chase across the Dogger Bank was a long one; but the greater speed
of the British ships steadily lessened the dividing distance, the
confused cloud of smoke gradually separated into distinct plumes, masts
and funnels took shape, and at length the enemy's hulls loomed into view
and the guns began to speak.
The ranges were sent down from the fire-control platforms, the dials
indicated what projectiles were to be used. It was each ship to its
kind, Dreadnought against Dreadnought, cruiser against cruiser,
destroyer against destroyer.
The _Saturn_, leading the British line, opened fire upon the _Goethe_,
the slowest and rearmost, as well as the biggest of the German
battleships. With a crimson flash and a dense burst of smoke from their
muzzles, the two great guns in the flagship's forward turret thundered
forth, and two monster lyddite shells seemed to tear the very air into
ribbons as they went screeching through the mist with their message of
challenge.
Following the flagship came the mighty _Avenger_, with the _Patroclus_
close on her heels, the _Tremendous_ next, and then the _Auckland_.
Very soon the _Saturn_ overhauled the slow _Goethe_, and in passing gave
her a broadside, which carried away her bridge and caused frightful
damage on board. But the _Saturn's_ chosen quarry was far ahead, and
she sped on with ever-increasing speed with the object of bringing to
action the fastest ships of the fugitive enemy.
Already it was obvious that the _Goethe_ was doomed. Each of the British
battleships as she passed gave her a broadside, leaving her to be
finally dealt with by the light cruisers.
The chase had continued for over two hours. Far in advance, the British
Dreadnoughts were engaged in a fierce running fight with the German
battleships, pounding them incessantly.
The fire of the _Brandenburg_ and the _Lessing_ grew weaker and weaker.
Masses of flames were sweeping their decks, their upper works were a
confusion of wreckage. All that their commanders could hope for now was
to reach the sanctuary of the German mine-field before their relentless
foes should overtake and totally destroy them.
The third vessel in the German line, the _Mozart_, suffered even more
severely. She had come under the long-range fire of each of the British
battleships in turn. One after another her guns had been smashed out of
action until she was silenced and could do no more than steam
desperately for shelter, with the whole of her after-deck ablaze. Boats
were launched, and many of her people jumped overboard to escape the
awful inferno.
In the meantime, the British flagship was running perilously near to the
German mine-field. At any moment there might be a terrific explosion
under her keel. Yet still she went on. So thick was the air around her
with black oil-smoke and the dense fumes from her guns that she sent out
her signals by flashlight.
One of the _Mozart's_ crowded lifeboats fell into her track. Her course
was promptly altered, and there was the curious spectacle of a great
battleship, while firing death and destruction into an enemy, steering
aside to avoid running down one of that enemy's boats.
To the risk of hitting an explosive mine was added the danger from
several submarines which had come out from Heligoland to cover the
retreat of the battleships. The U50 was amongst them, and Max Hilliger,
helping Lieutenant Koerner, very nearly succeeded in planting a torpedo
in the _Saturn's_ hull.
The pursuit could not be continued with safety, and accordingly the
three damaged Dreadnoughts were allowed to escape beyond range, while
the _Saturn_ turned her attention to the enemy cruisers in their wake,
working round to head them off and drive them down upon the English
light cruisers hotly pursuing them.
It was while the British flagship was thus engaged that a shell from the
_Wurzburg_ struck her below the water-line, so damaging one of her feed
tanks that her speed was reduced and she was obliged to call for
assistance. The _Patroclus_ at once took her in tow, and her withdrawal
from the battle enabled the German light cruisers to escape.
There was no ship in the whole of the British squadron which was not at
some time engaged with an opponent; but not one German vessel gave as
much as she received. Most of them were seriously crippled, and many of
them had the greatest difficulty in limping home.
The fate of the _Goethe_ was sealed from the first. Although she was the
biggest of the German ships, she was at the same time the slowest, and
she had been left behind to bear her own burden unhelped.
The guns of ship after ship had been turned upon her with terrible
effect. Shells had been poured upon her from all quarters, spreading
devastation on board and death amongst her crew. It was only the great
strength of her armoured belt which enabled her for so long to withstand
the battering she received from the British heavy guns, and still to
keep afloat.
Her upper works were smashed out of all semblance to the fittings of a
ship. Amidships, she was a raging furnace; yet she still floated on an
even keel, sinking very slowly, while from her bent and shattered mast
her flag bravely fluttered.
The _Dauntless_ approached her, circling round. From his post in the
fire-control, Rodney Redisham could see the men crowded on the doomed
battleship's after-decks. They were waiting for the expected end, all
wearing lifebelts. Then, as the _Dauntless_ came abreast of her, a
torpedo was fired. It crashed through the thick plates amidships.
The _Goethe_ shuddered, and heeled over until her decks were almost
awash. There was a sudden roar as she turned on her side. Then with a
plunge she went to the bottom.
This was the end of the great battle, and the British light cruisers and
destroyers devoted themselves to the work of picking up survivors.
They were thus occupied when a huge airship and a number of aeroplanes
came out from Heligoland. Avoiding the battleships and cruisers, which
might have turned their guns upon them, the aircraft made for the
destroyers and attacked them by dropping bombs into their midst. The
work of rescue could not be continued under such an attack, and the
destroyers scattered, each with its party of rescued Germans.
None of the British ships had been damaged beyond repair, and the number
of casualties was very small. An officer and fourteen men had been
killed, and three officers and about thirty men were wounded. Greater
speed, greater weight and range of guns, and better marksmanship had
told in favour of the British.
The Germans, indeed, had received a very sound and thorough whipping in
punishment for their attempt to rush over to England and bombard
undefended towns. But more than all they received a proof of Great
Britain's invincible power upon the seas.
It was not until many days afterwards that Max Hilliger again met his
uncle in one of the corridors of the German naval headquarters in
Wilhelmshaven.
"Well, my dear Max," began the admiral, "and what is now your opinion of
your friends the English? We gave them a pretty run for their money,
eh?"
Max nodded, not being quite sure of his uncle's humour.
"And they appear to have caught you, _mein Herr_," he responded. "Our
ships have not such speed as theirs. That is a grave disadvantage."
Admiral von Hilliger shrugged his shoulders.
"In future we shall use oil fuel," he said. "The necessary alteration
in our machinery will be quite easy."
"Then there is their superiority in guns, sir," ventured Max. "Their
guns not only throw a heavier shell than ours, but they are also of much
longer range. I am told that the _Goethe_ was smashed almost to pieces
before she could so much as touch one of the British Dreadnoughts."
"That fault can be remedied," declared the admiral. "Already we are
having larger guns made. And, remember, we are having many new ships
built. They will have guns such as the English have never dreamt of."
"And in the meantime," said Max, "I suppose our great fleet will lie
idle in the Kiel Canal?"
"In the meantime," rejoined the admiral, "we have our Zeppelins and our
submarines. Make no mistake, my dear Max, Great Britain's attempt to
blockade our ports will not affect us in the least. We, on the contrary,
can starve Great Britain. We shall throw a ring of submarines all round
their wretched islands, so that no single ship can enter or leave their
seaports."
Max smiled.
"They will be equal with us, even then," he boldly declared. "With
submarines you cannot hope to hold command of the seas. Besides, to
prey upon merchant shipping--neutral ships as well as British--is not
war, it is rank piracy."
Admiral von Hilliger laughed.
"Piracy?" he repeated. "In that case, you shall yourself be one of our
pirate chiefs. You shall fly the Jolly Roger. But I do not care what
you call yourself so long as you make yourself a terror of the seas. It
is what His Majesty the Kaiser wishes you to be. He wishes you to sink
their hateful Dreadnoughts, their troopships, their fishing boats, their
cargo steamers, and even their passenger liners, wherever they can be
found."
Max looked up into his uncle's puffy blue eyes.
"Their passenger liners?" he repeated in amazement. "Do you say that
such is the Kaiser's wish? But that would be murder!"
"Hush! my dear Max," cried the admiral. "We must not call it by so
unpleasant a name as that. The whole thing is very different if we call
it simply submarine warfare."
"And suppose I refuse?" demanded Max.
Again Admiral von Hilliger shrugged his shoulders.
"Then you will be arrested for mutiny," he declared coldly. "And the
penalty for mutiny is death. Do you understand? The penalty is an
ignominious death."
Max was silent for some moments. At last he said:
"I prefer to suffer the penalty."
But already the admiral had turned away, not hearing the words.
*CHAPTER XXXI.*
*SUBMARINES AT WORK.*
"Glad to see as you're able to get about again, sir."
Constable Challis, patrolling the esplanade, had come to a halt beside
an invalid's bath-chair in which old Mr. Croucher sat, gripping an
unopened newspaper in his thin, white fingers. The bath-chair had been
drawn up against the rail so that the invalid might have an
uninterrupted view of the sea. Not far from it a boy in Sea Scout's
uniform stood watching a company of Territorials busily digging trenches
on the lower level of the denes.
"It must be quite a couple of months since you was out here last,"
continued the policeman.
"It is just two months and three days," returned Mr. Croucher, leaning
back with a weary sigh. "It was on the morning after the first Zeppelin
raid, you remember. Yes, I am much better; but this last attack has
been quite the worst I have known--rheumatism, Challis, rheumatism. I
should hardly have come out even on a fine morning like this, only that
Seth Newruck, here, kindly offered to wheel my bath-chair, my man having
enlisted."
He paused as if exhausted by so long a speech.
"I see changes, Challis," he resumed. "Many changes. Most of the
villas are tenantless. People are at last realising the danger of an
invasion. Even Mrs. Daplin-Gennery has taken flight. Where has she
gone, Challis?"
"Buxton, sir," the constable answered.
"Ah, well inland! The enemy will not reach so far as that until England
is conquered."
"Which isn't at all likely," added Challis.
"I don't feel so sure about that," retorted Mr. Croucher. "Everything
seems to point to the probability that the Germans will land sooner or
later. Look at what the War Office are doing here! Look at that long
line of trenches and the breastworks. Look at all these soldiers!"
"Yes, sir," nodded the constable, "we're beginnin' to look quite
military, aren't we?"
"Military? I call it desperately warlike," declared the invalid.
"Those trenches are not being so carefully dug merely to give training
to the Territorials. They are being made for military use. Such
elaborate defences would be a waste of time and material if there were
not grave danger. It is clear that the authorities expect them to land
just here."
Constable Challis leant his folded arms on the rail.
"You may take it from me, sir," he said, reassuringly, "that it's only a
reasonable precaution. The same sort of defence work is going on at
other places--at Buremouth and Eastwold."
But Mr. Croucher shook his head obstinately.
"Not to the same extent, Challis," he insisted. "I am told that there
are twenty thousand soldiers assembled within easy reach of Haddisport.
That is not simple precaution. It is preparation--preparation for an
armed resistance. And look at these stockades and redoubts, or whatever
they call them--battlements--fortifications! Look at the loopholes for
heavy guns, and the sandbags! I suppose the guns themselves are lying
ready somewhere close at hand, with the shells to fire them with."
"Yes, sir," Challis nodded. "They are all handy in the grounds of
Sunnydene. Tons of 'em."
"Dear me, dear me!" said Mr. Croucher in consternation.
Seth Newruck had turned the bath-chair so that its occupant could have a
fuller view of the embrasures and their connecting palisades of
corrugated iron. "It isn't so very long ago, sir," Seth reminded him
mischievously, "since you argued that there ought to be heavy guns
stationed all along the East Coast. And now that they are putting up a
few fortifications, you take alarm."
"Alarm?" repeated Mr. Croucher. "But isn't it enough to cause alarm?
Why, it's just as good as an advertisement of the fact that the enemy's
transports and cruisers may be expected any day, any hour!"
"What amuses me," added Constable Challis, "is that all those packin'
cases which they have filled with sea sand, makin' them like blocks of
granite, are really fish boxes belongin' to the Germans themselves.
Before the war they were the property of a firm of German fish curers.
You can read the name of 'Hilliger and Co.' on every one of 'em!"
"Hilliger? Ah!" cried Mr. Croucher, "That man Hilliger, I am convinced,
has been working towards this war for years past. He ought never to
have been allowed to carry on his business in Haddisport. It was only a
blind--a blind to cover his underhand work of spying and intrigue.
Where is he now, Challis--do you know?"
"Over in his own country, I suppose," answered the constable. "But
here's young Mark Redisham comin' along. He knows a lot more about
these things than I do."
Mark Redisham had paused to look out upon the sea at a patrol trawler in
which he appeared to be greatly interested. When he came nearer and saw
Seth Newruck and the two men he saluted and again paused.
"The enemy seem to have been pretty close," he observed, speaking
especially to his fellow scout.
"Yes," returned Seth. "It looks as if there were a submarine somewhere
near."
"And it has been doing some damage," rejoined Mark.