A BREACH OF NEUTRALITY
TRESSIDAR awoke with a start to find himself in utter darkness.
Accustomed to be aroused at all times and without warning, he was
fully awake in an instant.
The "Freya" was rolling considerably. Against her sides the waves
slapped viciously. Above his head he could see the seas pouring on
deck with that almost indescribable sound that accompanies the rush
of green water over the low bulwarks.
The rain had been succeeded by a stiff blow and the tramp was
ploughing through a rough sea with the wind broad on her starboard
beam.
"Thank goodness no middle watch for me to-night," soliloquised the
sub. as he prepared to fall asleep again. "Wonder what the time is?
I'll just see to satisfy my curiosity."
He leapt from his bunk and searched for the switch, for the
after-cabin of the "Freya" was electrically lighted. Having switched
on the light, he consulted his watch. It was twenty minutes to ten.
"By Jove, I've almost slept the clock twice round!" exclaimed
Tressidar. "It was nearly two in the morning before I turned in.
Seventeen hours at ten knots, if not more. Why, the old tub must be
well across the North Sea by this time."
Wondering why the "Freya" had not fallen in with any patrol ships,
the sub. dressed and left the cabin. In the saloon he found the
Norwegian skipper, who was in the midst of a meal.
"You slept so soundly that we did not like to awaken you," he said as
he rose to greet his guest. "There has been nothing to report. We
have not sighted a single sail since yesterday. Please sit down and
have some food."
"And my men?" asked Tressidar.
"They are all practically recovered except two, who have to keep to
their bunks," replied the Norwegian. "They have all turned in again,
but if you wish to see them----"
"No, I won't disturb them," the sub. hastened to declare, lest his
desire to communicate with his men might give rise to unfounded
suspicion. "To-morrow, perhaps. Where are we now, do you think?"
"About eighty miles due west of Cape Stodt, which is, you may perhaps
remember, almost midway between Christiansund and Bergen," was the
reply. "In order to avoid meeting German submarines, I have to hug
the Norwegian coast. I am afraid we've evaded your cruisers, sir.
Believe me, it was not by design, but by accident. Of course there is
no reason why you should not return to England by steamer after we
land you at Gothenborg, provided you and your men wear civilian
clothes and discard your arms and ammunition."
"That is something to be thankful for," remarked Tressidar. "So long
as I am back in England and able to rejoin my ship, I am content.
Next to being a prisoner of war the lot of an interned man must be
fearfully irksome."
"Quite so," agreed the skipper. "Now tell me: when do you think that
the war will be over?"
"When we've properly whacked the Germans--not before," replied the
sub. firmly.
"Then the sooner the better," added his host. "At the present time it
is hardly safe for a neutral ship to be at sea. We neutrals are like
a man standing on two rickety stools. At any moment one might
collapse and let us down badly. Holland and Denmark are the worst
off, I should say. It will indeed be a marvel if they can contrive to
avoid being drawn in by the vortex, even as Belgium was."
"We came into the war to help Belgium," remarked Tressidar.
"Only----"
The Norwegian smiled blandly.
"My friend," he interrupted, "let me tell you something. The
onlookers see most of the game. The cry about violating the
neutrality of Belgium that your politicians are so fond of raising is
mere clap-trap. It served its purpose to unite the various political
factions in England, that was all. You English had a chance that
might, perhaps, never occur again. It was a favourable chance to
smash German militarism, and, luckily for you, you took it. Even if
Belgium had not been involved, Great Britain would have ranged
herself on the side of France and Russia. When big Empires wage war,
little States do not count."
Tressidar merely inclined his head in assent. He, too, knew that the
Norwegian spoke the truth. Long before the German troops set foot in
Belgium the British Fleet was "standing fast" in readiness to help
in the necessary task of freeing Europe, nay, the world, from the
menace of Prussianism as preached by the disciples of kultur.
At daybreak the "Freya" rounded the Naze, the southernmost point of
Norway. Ahead lay the broad waters of the Skager Rack. In normal
times, following the breaking up of the ice, the sound would be
dotted with vessels of all nationalities engaged in trade with the
Baltic ports. Now not a sail was visible. The heavily sparred German
timber ships, like the rest of the mercantile navy of Prussia, had
long since been swept off the seas.
The quaint Russian barques, too, that were familiar in almost every
British port of any size, were no longer to be seen. A few Swedish
merchantmen, timorously hugging the Norwegian coast, might have been
discerned had the weather been clear. Otherwise, save for the
spectacular "dashes" of a few German warships--short cruises to cheer
up the Huns in the belief that their navy did plough the
high-seas--the Skager Rack presented almost as desolate an aspect as
the Dead Sea.
The "Freya" hugged the shore closely, keeping well within the
three-mile limit. Even at that distance the land was frequently
obscured by patches of mist that drove slowly across the sea under
the mild southerly wind.
Presently the tramp ran into a thick bank of fog. With a dangerous
shore so close under her lee, it was imperative that every precaution
should be taken to prevent her being carried out of her course by the
strong indraught. Speed was reduced to a minimum necessary to carry
steerage way, while the syren was kept going to warn possible
approaching vessels of her presence.
Suddenly, like the passing of a compact cloud across the sun, the fog
lifted. The ship was still within the three-mile limit, but between
her and the Norwegian coast was a fleet of warships steaming rapidly
in the same direction and on a parallel course that, if maintained,
would bring them within a cable's length of the "Freya."
"By Jove!" exclaimed Tressidar. "They are German vessels."
He was right. There were three light cruisers steaming in line ahead.
On either hand were lines of torpedo-boats, while overhead at an
altitude of about one thousand feet flew two Zeppelins of the most
recent type. The Huns, fearing submarine attack, were taking no
unnecessary risks. They were cruising in neutral waters, but the
German populace was not to know that.
"Keep your men well out of sight," cautioned the skipper. "Even the
Norwegian flag flying in Norwegian waters would not be able to
protect you."
As he spoke the leading torpedo-boat of the starboard division
sounded her syren imperiously. By all the rules of the road at sea
the tramp, being the overtaken vessel, was entitled to hold on her
course; but it was evident that the German flotilla was attempting to
edge the "Freya" beyond territorial waters, although for what reason
none on board her could certainly conjecture.
Nearer and nearer drew the warships, without making the slightest
attempt to alter helm. Their syrens were braying frantically. It
reminded the sub. of a herd of cattle trying to shift a little dog
that impeded their way.
If the "Freya's" skipper held on, he realised that he would give the
imperious Huns cause for offence. Reluctantly he gave orders for the
helm to be ported in order to yield to the palpably illegal tactics
of the German ships.
As the tramp altered her course the starboard column of torpedo-boats
did likewise, until they were heading south-east or almost at right
angles to the coast-line. The "Freya" was being jockeyed beyond the
three-mile limit.
The sub. knew that he and his men were in a tight corner. Should the
tramp be compelled to hove-to there was no escape. They could not be
passed off as passengers, since their names did not figure on the
passenger list. Nor was the ship certified to carry any persons
besides her officers and crew.
Tressidar dismissed the proposal that he and his men should hide in
the hold. Searched the ship would certainly be, and he was not going
to be ignominiously hauled out of the hold by a mob of Germans.
At length, in fact directly the tramp had passed the limit of
territorial waters, the peremptory hail to stop instantly came from
the nearmost German torpedo-boat, which promptly swung out of station
and slowed down.
"I am sorry, but it is not my fault," exclaimed the Norwegian skipper
to Tressidar as he telegraphed to the engine-room for half-speed
astern.
"You did your best: you had no choice," replied the sub. "We must
make the best of the situation."
While the German torpedo-boat was manoeuvring to come alongside (it
saved the trouble of sending away a boarding-party), Tressidar sent a
couple of seamen to fetch the rifles and ammunition from the cabin.
These he dropped overboard. At least they would not be allowed to
fall into the hands of the enemy.
Barely had this task been completed when a tall, full-faced, blond
unter-leutnant appeared over the side, followed by half a dozen armed
men.
Directly he caught sight of Tressidar and the British seamen he half
hesitated, fearing a trap. Then, possibly realising that he had
thirty German warships to back him up, he waxed bold, and fiercely
twirling his fair moustache, haughtily demanded to know what these
English swine were doing on board a Norwegian ship?
The skipper of the "Freya," who spoke German as fluently as he did
English, explained briefly and to the point, saying that he had acted
merely in the dictates of humanity.
"Then so much the worse for you," retorted the German officer.
He walked to the side and reported his find to his superior, the
kapitan of the torpedo-boat. Great was the excitement on board, while
the news was quickly transmitted by semaphore to the flagship, which
happened to be one of the three light cruisers.
Tressidar and the cutter's crew were then ordered over the side and
sent on board the torpedo-boat. A thorough search was then made of
the "Freya" lest any more British officers and men might still be in
hiding, but without result.
"Your vessel is a prize to the German Government," declared the
unter-leutnant, addressing the Norwegian skipper.
"A prize?" repeated the master. "For why?"
"You are conveying contraband."
"We are not," protested the "Freya's" captain. "We have not touched
at a British port. Our papers prove that. And our cargo is not
contraband."
"I did not say contraband cargo," said the German with a leer. "Men
can be contraband as well as stores. You had English seamen on board,
therefore you are under arrest."
"We were in Norwegian waters when you overhauled us," declared the
skipper.
"No," replied the German. "Well beyond the limit. But what is the use
of your protesting You are under arrest and the vessel is a prize. If
you do not know how to make the best of the business, I will have to
show you."
So with a prize crew on board, the luckless "Freya," escorted by a
torpedo-boat, was taken into the Elbe, while Tressidar found himself
a prisoner of war in the hands of the Huns.