The strain on the nerves of the party in the palace became more and
more severe. During the second week in October it almost reached the
breaking point. For four days the sirocco blew across the island. The
sky was grey and seemed to press down on sea and land, heavy,
unbroken, intolerably near. The wind blew strongly, but with none of
the fresh boisterous fierceness of a northern gale. There was a sullen
malignity about its force. Out at sea grey-topped waves wrangled and
strove together confusedly. They broke in a welter of soiled foam
across the reef which lay opposite the mouth of the bay. Within the
harbour little waves, like jagged steel blades, rose, hissed at each
other spitefully, and perpetually stabbed at the rocky shore.
The close, suffocating heat oppressed men and beasts. The islanders
retreated into their cottages and lay, patiently enduring, till the
vile wind should pass away. Cattle cowered for shelter under the lee
of walls or among the bent, swaying trees. Donovan sat alone in his
room in the palace. He sweated continuously though he wore little
clothing. He was the victim of many kinds of physical uneasiness,
pains which would not quite declare themselves, restless fidgetings
of his limbs, vague depression of spirit. Konrad Karl and Madame
quarrelled openly and bitterly. His revilings stung her. Her own
ill-temper left her raw. She fled to her room and locked herself into
it. The King, perversely persistent, went after her. He could be heard
scolding her through the closed door at one moment, begging
pathetically for admittance at another. Gorman wandered restlessly
from room to room. He opened windows, panting for air, and closed them
with a curse when the hot blast of the sirocco smote him in the face.
Smith, alone of all the party, preserved his self-control. The sweat
trickled down his face; but he was alert, attentive, busy, as if the
sun shone and the breeze blew fresh across sparkling water.
The Queen found the palace intolerable, worse than the wind outside.
Very soon after breakfast she went out. Kalliope, faithful even amid
the torment of the sirocco, followed her. They struggled together
towards their watch place on the cliff. The wind buffeted them, set
their hair floating wildly, struck their eyelids painfully. Their legs
were caught and held by tangling petticoats. Sometimes as the path
twisted they headed right against the storm. Then bent almost double,
they bored their way through dense resisting air. Sometimes, moving
slantwise, they were caught by a side blast, and then they walked
leaning at a sharp angle against the wind. Or, for a little while,
they scudded before it, driven against their wills to swift motion
which was unbearably exhausting. More than once Kalliope flung
herself down and lay flat, panting on the shelterless grass. If she
had taken her own way she would have given the struggle up. But the
Queen, though she too gasped for breath, would not turn back or rest
for more than a few minutes. She was determined to reach the look-out
post on the cliff. In the end she got there.
Kalliope lay at full length, face downwards, in the little hollow. The
Queen sat beside her and looked out to sea. Her hair was blown
backwards. Her blouse, its fastenings torn, was blown open at her
neck. Her face was flecked with tiny crystals of salt. She breathed in
quick short pants. She kept her eyelids open with an effort against
the blast.
The welter of grey water, broken everywhere with splashes of lighter
grey foam, merged into the misty grey of the low enveloping clouds.
The half circle of the horizon seemed very near. She watched the waves
rise, rush forward, curl their crests over and break in foam. In one
place the foam was whiter, thicker than elsewhere. The waves broke
more frequently there. It was as if a patch of very fiercely breaking
water moved towards the island. Behind it, before it, and on either
side of it the waves tossed and broke. On this one patch they broke
more constantly and more wildly. In a little while the Queen got
glimpses of a dark mass which rose from the middle of this breaking
water. Then she saw, clear above the foam, a short thick mast. She
guessed that in the middle of the breaking water, half submerged,
washed constantly from stem to stern, there was a boat which made for
the shore.
The Queen watched, fascinated. The boat held her course for the
island. She reached the corner of the reef outside the bay. She swung
round it and was to be seen plainly at last in the sheltered water of
the harbour. She was a long low boat, narrow, sharply pointed bow and
stern. A turret rose amidships. The smooth rounded slope of her deck
was broken only by a hand rail which stretched fore and aft from the
turret. The Queen had seen no craft like her, but she knew what she
was, a submarine.
The Queen seized Kalliope by the arm and pointed to the boat. It was
impossible to talk up there on the cliff in the storm. The two girls
struggled to their feet. They started on their way back to the palace.
Hand in hand, running, tripping, buffeted, breathless, they reached
the bottom of the cliff.
The Queen and Kalliope were the first to see the submarine; but when
she rounded the corner of the reef and entered the harbour every one
on the island was aware of her arrival. From the houses of the village
men came out and stood on the beach staring at the strange craft which
moved across their bay. In the palace King Konrad Karl saw her and
knew at once what she was. The effect her arrival produced on him was
curious. Better than any one else on the island except perhaps Smith,
he understood the German war spirit and guessed what the coming of the
submarine might mean. Yet he seemed actually pleased to see her. He
hurried to find Gorman. All the nervous agitation which had set him
quarrelling with his Corinne disappeared. The effects of the horrible
dullness and intolerable boredom of the past three months dropped away
in an instant. The sirocco no longer afflicted him. He greeted Gorman
with smiles. He was once more the irrepressible, cheery, street arab
among kings, who had swindled the British public with his Vino
Regalis, who defied all conventional decencies in his relations with
Madame Ypsilante, who had failed to pay his bills in London and tried
to outwit the Emperor over the sale of Salissa.
"Gorman," he said, "my friend Gorman. Once more we are alive. Many
things happen. It is a hand of no trumps doubled and redoubled.
Gorman, I palpitate, I thrill. We arrive at the moment of destiny.
Behold destiny!"
Gorman, who was looking out of the window, saw the submarine, but did
not for the moment recognize destiny. He agreed with the King that her
arrival made a desirable break in the monotony that oppressed them.
But the situation did not strike him as equal in emotional value to a
redoubled hand at bridge. The best he hoped for was some fresh
company, a little news from the outside world and possibly a bundle of
newspapers.
"Submarine?" he said. "English or German, do you think? and what do
you suppose she wants here?"
"English, pooh! By this time no English ships are left on the sea. It
is an under-water boat of the Emperor, and she comes to seek the
petrol stored in the cave."
"Liable to disappointment then," said Gorman. "That petrol's gone."
"I know it," said the King, "therefore I say 'Behold destiny.' But I,
Gorman, I laugh at destiny. I mock. I snap the finger and thumb of my
hand. So." He snapped the fingers of both hands with airy defiance. "I
am a king. I play a game until the end. I die game-playing. And
Corinne will not grieve too much. On Salissa I think Corinne loves
less than in Paris. Hurrah, Gorman. Hip, and hip, and hurrah, three
times."
Gorman was not impressed by this rhapsody. He was not yet sufficiently
roused from the bad temper and depression induced by the sirocco to
appreciate the King's exalted mood.
"I suppose," he said, "that Donovan will ask the captain to dinner. I
hope to goodness he can talk English. There's a lot of news I want to
hear."
Donovan, sitting alone in his room, did not see the arrival of the
submarine. It was Smith who reported the matter to him.
"Warship of a belligerent nation?" said Donovan.
"Yes, sir; German, sir."
"German or English," said Donovan, "it's the same thing. This is a
neutral State and we haven't got any quarrel with either party."
"Yes, sir," said Smith. "Quite so, sir. But, I beg your pardon. She's
German."
Donovan thought this over for a minute.
"I appreciate your feelings, Smith," he said, "and I don't deny that
your situation might be an awkward one if this wasn't a neutral State.
But you're in the service of the Crown of Salissa now, and I reckon
that any attempt to inflict punishment on you would be contrary to
international law."
"I'm sure you know best, sir."
"That's as good as to say that your interpretation of international
law is superior to mine. It may be. But the matter will have to come
before the superior courts before anything's settled."
"It's not that, sir," said Smith. "I'm not afraid of the law."
"Oh," said Donovan, "you're inclined to think that the German captain
may trample on the law?"
"Seeing as how you've no guns, sir, he might."
"Smith," said Donovan, "just look out of that window and tell me what
banner the Queen has flying from the flagpost. Old Glory, isn't it?"
"The American flag, sir. Yes, sir."
"Well," said Donovan, "I guess that's good."
Smith appears to have been remarkably cool. Both Donovan and Gorman
agree that he showed no sign of fear or excitement. Yet he must have
known that he was in serious danger. He had been a member of the
German Secret Service. He had deserted it, revealed its secrets and
acted against his employers. He had very good reason to expect to be
hanged or shot within the next couple of hours. He cannot, I imagine,
have placed much confidence in the protection afforded by the American
flag. But he seems to have had a profound belief in Donovan.
When the Queen and Kalliope, wind torn and dishevelled, reached the
palace, it was Smith who met them and in answer to her eager questions
told the Queen that the submarine was German. He added that the
captain would probably come ashore. He asked where the Queen would
like to receive him.
"I'm afraid, your Majesty," he said, "that there may be some trouble.
I mean to say that it won't be quite a friendly visit to your Majesty.
He'll be expecting a supply of petrol, and----"
The Queen gave a little gasp of surprise. Then she burst into a peal
of laughter.
"There's not a drop left," she said. "He'll be just mad. I wonder what
he'll say. Do you think he'll be rude?"
"Quite possibly, your Majesty," said Smith. "The Germans haven't got
very good manners."
"We'll have him in the big hall, Smith. And we'll all be there. If
he's nice about the petrol and takes it as a joke we'll ask him to
dinner. If he's rude he can just go back to his old submarine and sulk
by himself."
Smith was quick in making preparations for the reception in the great
hall. But the captain of the submarine reached the landing steps
before the party in the palace was ready for him. The Queen hurried
into the hall and took her seat on a chair which Smith placed for her.
Konrad Karl ran to warn his Corinne to stay in her room and keep the
door locked. Smith went to summon Donovan. Gorman, eager now and full
of curiosity, stood at the door of the hall to watch the landing of
the German officer. As the Queen took her seat he turned to her.
"Hullo," he said, "it's our old friend von Moll."
"_That_ man!" said the Queen.
"Funny to think of his turning up here again," said Gorman. "Hope
he'll keep sober this time."
Von Moll was sober enough at the moment. He stood very erect, very
stern, most awe-inspiring while his men landed, six of them, all
armed. Then he tramped up the steps. He halted for a minute on the
terrace where the flagstaff was. He gave an order. One of his men drew
a knife from a sheath and cut the flag halyard. The Stars and Stripes
crumpled up and fluttered down the wind.
Gorman turned to the Queen again.
"Your flag's gone," he said. "Von Moll appears to be in a bit of a
temper."
Then he stepped out of the hall and went forward down the path. He
held out his hand to von Moll.
"How are you?" he said. "Perfectly beastly day, isn't it? Any news?"
Von Moll marched on, taking no notice whatever of his friendly
greeting. Gorman, smiling pleasantly, followed him towards the hall.
"Been in any more naval battles since we last met?" said Gorman. "By
the way, was there any fuss when you got home about that man's teeth?"
Von Moll stalked into the hall. Gorman followed him.
"It's no use your pretending not to understand English," he said. "You
talked it splendidly last time you were here."
Von Moll made no pretence at politeness. He did not even salute the
Queen. He looked round him with an insolent glare. Konrad Karl hurried
through the door at the far end of the hall and took his place at the
Queen's side. He had a lighted cigarette in his hand. It could not be
said of him that he was frightened; but he was certainly excited. He
fidgeted nervously with his moustache and his eyes were unusually
bright. Von Moll watched him for a minute and then spoke.
"King Konrad Karl," he said, "you will consider yourself under arrest
and be prepared to follow me on board."
The King gave a little twist to his moustache.
"By whose authority do you give these orders?" he said.
"The Emperor's."
Von Moll clicked his heels together and saluted as he spoke. King
Konrad Karl shrugged his shoulders. Gorman, determined not to be
ignored this time, took von Moll by the arm.
"I say, von Moll," he said. "After the frightfully impressive way you
said that, we ought to have some sort of demonstration. Let's drink
the old boy's health and say 'Hoch!' or whatever the proper thing is.
I'm sure you must want a drink, and those swashbucklers of yours"--he
looked round at von Moll's six men--"could hold hands and sing
'_Deutschland ueber Alles_.' It would cheer us all up."
The Queen looked at von Moll in amazement. Then she glanced at Konrad
Karl. While Gorman was speaking she made up her mind to assert
herself.
"You forget," she said, "that King Konrad Karl is my guest, and so are
you while you are in my house."
Donovan, still in his shirt sleeves, looking very tired and hot,
slouched into the hall while the Queen spoke. Smith followed him. The
Queen, nervous and half frightened in spite of her brave words, turned
to him.
"Oh, father," she said, "I am glad you've come."
Donovan nodded to von Moll.
"Sit right down," he said, "there's a chair behind you. You'll stay
for luncheon, won't you?"
He sat down himself as he spoke and took a cigar out of his case.
"Smith," he said, "cocktails."
"Yes, sir," said Smith.
Von Moll turned to the men behind him and pointed to Smith.
"Arrest that man," he said.
Two of the sailors stepped forward and crossed the hall towards Smith.
"Say," said Donovan, "is this a rehearsal for a cinema? and when do
you reckon to have the camera operating?"
"That man," said von Moll, pointing to Smith, "is a deserter from the
service of the Emperor and a spy. He pays the penalty."
Donovan deliberately cut the end off his cigar and struck a match.
Then he looked up at von Moll.
"Seems to me," he said, "that there's some kind of misunderstanding.
I'm not blaming you, Captain, not at all. But this is a neutral State,
and according to international law you can't butt in and arrest
citizens without applying for an extradition order in the regular
way."
"You talk like a fool," said von Moll. "This is war."
He gave a fresh order to his men.
"Take him," he said. "Shoot him on the steps outside."
Donovan struck a fresh match and lit his cigar. He puffed at it
slowly.
"It pains me some," he said, "to go contrary to my life-long
principles. I'm a humanitarian by conviction and I'm opposed to
capital punishment. It seems to me that the taking of human life is
not justified, and that the advance of civilization, especially in
the great republic of which I am a citizen----"
"He is a spy," said von Moll, "and he dies."
"You're hasty, Captain," said Donovan. "I don't blame you, but you're
hasty and you haven't quite tumbled to my meaning. When I spoke of my
humanitarian principles I wasn't thinking of what would happen to
Smith. You may shoot him, Captain, and I shall deplore it. But that
won't outrage my convictions any. For I shan't be responsible, that
execution being your affair and not mine. What I was thinking of was
how I'd feel when I saw you and every damned one of your pirates
hanging at the end of ropes over the edges of the various fancy
balconies and other trimmings which adorn this palace. It will be
going clean against my principles to arrange that kind of obituary
dangle for you, Captain. I may have some trouble soothing my
conscience afterwards. But I expect that can be managed. You may call
me inconsistent and you may be right. But I'm not a hide-bound
doctrinnaire. There are circumstances under which the loftier
emanations of humanitarian principle kind of flicker out. The shooting
of Smith is a circumstance of that sort. Your treatment of the
American flag is another."
Gorman tells me that he suspected Donovan of attempting a gigantic
bluff. He admired the way he did it, but he did not think he could
possibly succeed. Donovan did not, so far as Gorman could see, hold in
his hand a single card worth putting down on the table. Smith stood,
cool and apparently uninterested, between the two sailors who had
arrested him. Konrad Karl was lighting and throwing away cigarette
after cigarette. The Queen had grown pale at the mention of the
shooting of Smith; but she kept her eyes fixed on her father. She did
not understand what he was doing, but she had great confidence in him.
Von Moll stared at Donovan with an insolent sneer.
"You threaten," he said, "you think that your American
Republic----Pah! what is America? You have no army. Your navy is no
good. What can you do?"
"You're taking me up wrong again," said Donovan. "I'm not reckoning on
America just now. The hanging will be done by the crew of the English
ship that I'm expecting to see in this harbour. Not to-day, maybe, or
to-morrow, but some time before the end of this darned war."
King Konrad Karl threw away another cigarette.
"Alas and damn!" he said, "by this time there are no longer any
English ships."
Gorman was watching von Moll closely. At the mention of an English
ship the man's eyes flickered suddenly. For an instant his face
changed. A shadow of uneasiness appeared on it. But this passed at
once, and the look of insolence took its place. Donovan was also
watching.
"There may be one or two left," he said. "I don't say the one that
turns up here will be a first-class battle cruiser; but I guess the
men on her will be up to the little job of hanging you, Captain. And
they'll come. Sure. And you'll be here, just waiting for them."
"I shall be gone," said von Moll. "Not that I fear your English ship.
But to-morrow I go, and before I go, to-day--I shoot the spy."
"You misapprehend the situation," said Donovan. "As a warship of a
belligerent Power entering a neutral harbour you are liable----"
Von Moll laughed aloud.
"You intern me," he said.
"Well," drawled Donovan, "I do. Say, Captain, you didn't drop in here
just for the pleasure of shooting Smith and carrying off the King.
Those weren't your main purposes. I'm not an observant man, but I did
happen to notice as I left my room that your ship was shifting her
anchorage a bit. Now I wouldn't say that it's particularly healthy,
with a wind like this blowing, for a ship to lie right under those
cliffs, slap up against the mouth of a cave. I give you credit,
Captain, for knowing your trade as a sailor, and I don't think that
you'd put your ship there unless you wanted something out of that
cave, and wanted it pretty bad. What's more, Captain, you want it in a
hurry. Now I may be wrong, but it's my opinion that what you expect to
find there is petrol. That so?"
It was plain--so plain that even King Konrad Karl saw it--that von
Moll was disturbed. His confidence was not what it had been earlier in
the interview. Donovan went on, speaking with irritating
deliberation.
"Now when I said that you were interned in the harbour of this neutral
State, Captain, I wasn't counting on your respect for international
law. I wouldn't risk a dollar on that. What I meant was this. The
petrol's not there. Your darned tanks are empty. I'm not defending the
action on economic grounds. It was waste. But that petrol is gone. We
ran it off."
"You have not dared," said von Moll. "You could not dare----No one but
a madman would touch the Emperor's war stores."
"I hope," said Gorman, "that the poor old Emperor won't have a fit
when he hears about it."
"You may be able to run that ship a mile or two," said Donovan. "But I
reckon you'll not go far. You were dependent on that petrol? Come now,
Captain, own up."
What von Moll intended to do next I do not know. Gorman is of opinion
that he might very well have shot the whole party. He was white with
passion.
Donovan rose from his chair, stuck his cigar in a corner of his mouth,
and crossed the hall towards the door.
"While you're sizing up the situation," he said to von Moll, "I'll
just see if I can't find that flag that you cut down. It would gratify
me to have it flying again. You'd better come with me, Smith. I'm not
inclined for climbing poles in this storm. I have to consider my
heart."
Smith stepped forward and followed him. It is interesting to notice
that the sailors who guarded him made no attempt to stop him. It is
unlikely that they understood English well enough to know what Donovan
said to von Moll. But they were somehow aware that their captain's
authority was failing.
At the door of the hall Donovan stopped and turned to von Moll.
"Things seem to be happening," he said, "right up to expectation, only
more so. I own I didn't look for that British ship quite so soon."
He stood in the doorway and pointed out to sea. Gorman hurried across
the hall, passed Donovan and went out. The Queen left her chair and
ran to her father's side. Konrad Karl followed her. Von Moll looked
round him, astonished, slightly dazed. Then he, too, went out, pushing
his way past Donovan.
Outside the reef, plunging and rolling heavily, was a small steamer.
She was stumpy, high bowed, low waisted, with a short black funnel.
Her bridge and single deck-house were disproportionately high. She was
shabby and rusty. She looked insignificant. She was swept frequently
with showers of white spray. On her bow and on her funnel could be
seen the white letters and numbers which proclaimed her proper
business. She was a trawler. In peace times she cast nets for fish in
the North Sea. Now she flew the white ensign and on her fore-deck,
above the high blunt bows, she carried a gun.
There were men handling the gun amid a smother of spray and the swirl
of water round their legs. The deck on which they stood was the worst
of all possible gun platforms. In the course of each few minutes it
was set at a dozen angles as the little steamer plunged and rolled.
But the men fired. Their shot went wide of the submarine which lay in
the harbour, and spluttered against the side of the cliff. The trawler
staggered on towards the end of the reef. Out of the welter of grey
water to windward came another trawler, then a third appeared and a
fourth.
Gorman edged up close to von Moll and caught him by the elbow.
"I say, von Moll," he said, "it's jolly lucky for you that you didn't
have time to shoot Smith. That ship of yours is a goner, you know.
It'll be a jolly sight pleasanter for you to be a prisoner of war than
to be dangling about on the end of a rope in this beastly wind. And
Donovan would have seen to it that you did swing if you'd shot Smith.
There's nobody so vindictive as your humanitarian pacifist, once you
get him roused."
The first of the little fleet of trawlers swung round the end of the
reef into the sheltered water of the bay. She fired again. Her deck
was steady. The target was an easy one. One shell and then another
hit the submarine, ripped her thin hull, burst in her vitals.
Half an hour later Maurice Phillips landed on the palace steps.