A PRISONER OF WAR
AS soon as the Norwegian tramp and her escort were on the way to a
German port the torpedo-boat resumed her station at the head of the
starboard line.
The British seamen had been sent below as soon as they were
transhipped, but Tressidar was told to go aft and await examination.
"You say your ship engaged one of our cruisers?" asked the
lieutenant-commander of the torpedo-boat. "What was the result?"
"Your cruiser ran away," replied Tressidar pointedly.
"And then what happened?"
"The 'Heracles' stood in pursuit. An action was taking place. We
were left adrift in the cutter."
"And the end of the action?"
"I cannot tell. Both ships were lost in the mist."
"Was the English cruiser torpedoed?"
"That I cannot say," replied the sub.
"It was possible. Were there any signs of one of our incomparable
submarines about?"
"We saw one several hours later."
"Then it is certain that your 'Heracles' was sunk," declared the
German joyously. Already he had decided to report that a party of
English Seamen, the sole survivors of a torpedoed cruiser, had been
rescued by a division of the High Seas Fleet. He could imagine the
intense enthusiasm in Berlin at the news.
He plied Tressidar with questions to elicit the information as to the
exact position where the engagement started, but beyond the vague
statement that it was somewhere in the North Sea, the sub. refrained
from giving further details.
"The fellow is obstinate," remarked the unter-leutnant to his
superior. "Why not lock him up in the fo'c'sle with his men?"
"He is an officer, von Möber," said the lieutenant-commander. "He is
entitled to a certain amount of consideration."
"If I had my way I'd make it hot for this Pig of an Englishman,
officer or no officer," declared von Möber.
"You are over-zealous," said his superior. "These Englishmen treat
our men who fall into their hands in a proper manner."
"Because they fear reprisals," added the unter-leutnant. "Once they
began to ill-treat the crew of one of our lost submarines, but we
soon frightened them into better manners. That shows how the English
fear the German arms."
The young German firmly believed what he said. Like hundreds of his
fellow-countrymen, he regarded the considerate treatment of Huns held
as prisoners in England as a sign of weakness, while, on the other
hand, severity towards British captives was looked upon as a
testimony to the certainty of success to the German arms. Leniency to
prisoners and to interned Germans in England, instead of raising a
spark of gratitude in the minds of the kultured Huns, was accepted as
a token of moral weakness on the part of the strafed Englishmen.
German submarines could--and did--torpedo unarmed merchant ships
without warning; Zeppelins sailed by night over undefended British
towns and villages, raining death and destruction upon them. In both
cases these gallant exploits were hailed with wild enthusiasm by the
German nation. Yet the humane British, refraining from reprisals of a
similar nature, were looked upon by the Huns as a nation afraid to
retaliate, so that in the day of reckoning they would be able to make
better terms with the All-Highest War-Lord. And this theory, fostered
by "inspired" newspapers, was held practically by entire Germany.
The lieutenant-commander of the torpedo-boat was an exception.
Practically born and bred a sailor, his outlook was wider than that
of the majority of German naval officers, who are first and foremost
soldiers, and sailors by the will of their Emperor.
"While Herr Tressidar remains on board he will be treated with proper
respect, von Möber," he said firmly, then turning to his prisoner he
added, "I do not ask you for your parole, but let me warn you that a
sentry will be posted outside the door, and that any attempt on your
part to escape will certainly be discovered and with it your
privileges will be withdrawn."
"Thank you," replied Tressidar. "I understand."
He turned and followed a petty officer who had been told off to show
him to his place of detention. Just as he reached the small oval
hatchway leading below, two heavy explosions in quick succession
almost burst the drums of his ears.
So terrific were the detonations that the sub., was for the moment
unable to detect their source. It seemed as if the deafening noise
came from immediately overhead and from all sides of the torpedo-boat.
The frail craft shook like a terrified animal under the rending of
the air.
Then, to his unbounded delight, Tressidar saw the leading light
cruiser was heeling badly to starboard, her upper works hidden in
clouds of smoke mingled with spray.
Following the explosions came a dead silence of nearly a minute, then
the remaining ships of the German flotilla opened a rapid fire, the
shells hurtling towards a dozen different targets that existed solely
in the heated imaginations of the gun-layers. So erratic was the
firing that more than once the German ships were in danger of being
hit by the projectiles discharged from the guns of their consorts.
For full five minutes pandemonium reigned.
Meanwhile the stricken cruiser was still heeling. Already her upper
deck on the starboard side was flush with the water. Men were
clustering aft or else crowding into the boats that had survived the
explosion and were capable of being lowered.
It was a British submarine which had scored a couple of direct hits.
In spite of the presence of a double screen of torpedo-boats,
notwithstanding the prying eyes of the Zeppelins cruising over the
fleet, a plucky lieutenant-commander of one of the "E" class had been
able to obtain a periscopic sight of the German flagship. Here was a
chance too good to be missed. He immediately gave orders for two
torpedoes to be fired. Either was sufficient to strike a mortal blow,
for the first struck the target abreast of the foremost gun-turret;
the second found its mark fifteen feet for'ard of the stern-post.
Without waiting to observe the result of the explosion, the submarine
dived. To turn and speed away from her prey would be courting
destruction, for her movements would be distinctly visible to the
observers in the Zeppelins, and the torpedo-boats, directed by
wireless from the airships, would be rushing to and fro across the
submerged path of the British submarine and tear her to pieces with
explosive grapnels. So her lieutenant-commander steered her so that
she would pass underneath the German flotilla, and then, by compass
course, kept in the track that the hostile vessels had previously
held. Here the water, disturbed by the propellers of the flotilla,
was thick and muddy, and, forming an efficient screen for the
Zeppelins, enabled the British submarine to get clean away.
Long before the Teuton flagship had plunged to the bottom and the
furious cannonade had died away, the "E Something" was a dozen miles
from the scene of her exploit.
The disaster had temporarily unnerved the Germans. Once again, in
spite of their cautious cruise in neutral waters, one of the ships
had been sent to the bottom. And the irony of the situation lay in
the fact that had the ships not altered course to head off the
"Freya" beyond the three-mile limit, the opportunity for the British
submarine to "bag" a Hun might not have occurred.
Steering a zig-zag course and sheltering between the far-flung lines
of torpedo-boats, the remaining German cruisers ran frantically for
the Kattegat and thence to the security of Kiel Harbour, while the
torpedo-boat in which Tressidar and the luckless cutter's crew found
themselves prisoners parted company and steamed rapidly in the
direction of the island of Sylt.
It was not long before Sub-lieutenant Tressidar found that his ideas
of hospitality differed considerably from the German
lieutenant-commander's notions on the subject, for when the tumult on
board had begun to subside--and not before--was the young officer
sent below.
The "cabin" was little better than a metal compartment below the
waterline and immediately underneath the officers' cabins. Although
officially designated a torpedo-boat, the craft was almost equal in
size to the largest British destroyer, her draught being not less
than eleven feet. Built on the "cellular" principal, with double
bottoms and numerous transverse and lateral watertight bulk-heads,
this type of vessel was considered by the naval architects of the
Fatherland to be practically unsinkable, although already several of
this particular torpedo-boat's sister ships had failed to come up to
expectations when cruel fate brought them within range of British
quick-firers.
Save for a solitary electric lamp of low candle-power the sub.'s
place of confinement was unlighted. Ventilation, too, was of the most
meagre description, for the only air admitted was the already close
atmosphere of 'tween decks that filtered in though a small "louvre"
over the locked door. Without a sentry had been posted, but the key,
instead of being entrusted to him, was kept in the
lieutenant-commander's cabin. Thus, in the event of the vessel being
sunk, it was fairly reasonable to assume that all chances of the
prisoner being rescued depended upon the whim of the commanding
officer and the alacrity of the German sentry, even if time permitted
for him to risk his life for the sake of an "English swine."
Left to his own devices, Tressidar lost no time in taking minute
stock of his surroundings. With the exception of a low bench, the
place was devoid of furniture. The inner skin of the hull plating had
been newly coated with red lead, and smelt abominably. In addition,
some of the seams, working under the strain of the powerful engines,
were "weeping" copiously, until the floor was flooded to a depth of
two inches.
"Not a dog's chance of seeing what is going on," soliloquised the
sub., as he threw himself upon the bench and drew his feet clear of
the miniature lake. "I wonder what the game is? I hope, for my sake,
and the sake of my men, that this hooker won't be torpedoed or mined
while we are on board."
Tressidar was in a bad temper. The fact that he had been made a
prisoner through the indefensible and high-handed action of the Huns
riled him considerably. If he had had the ill-luck to be captured in
fair fight he would, doubtless, have accepted the situation without
demur, but to be literally kidnapped without the chance of a blow in
self-defence was galling in the extreme.
Several hours passed. Save for a visit from a particularly surly
seaman who brought the sub. a very sorry meal, Tressidar was left
severely alone, to ruminate over his bad luck.
At length the slowing down of the torpedo-boat's engines told him
that she was nearing port, for hitherto she had been racing at top
speed and steering a zig-zag course. After twenty minutes, during
which the engine-room telegraph bell clanged as many times, the
vessel came to a standstill.
Then followed another tedious wait. Apparently the Huns were in no
hurry to land their prisoner. But, since there is an end to all
things, Tressidar in due course found himself being escorted on deck,
preceded and followed by armed seamen.
It was still daylight. The torpedo-boat was berthed, in company with
more than twenty others, in a spacious basin. Surrounding the
enclosed water was a broad quay, flanked with two-storeyed buildings.
The entrance to the basin was, remarkably, on the eastern side or
remote from the open sea. Evidently the approach was by a tortuous,
intricate channel that skirted the southernmost extremity of the
island.
To the westward the outlook was bounded by a range of sand-dunes of
varying altitudes. In some places they were about 50 feet in height;
in others the grass-grown hummocks slightly exceeded double that
dimension. A short distance to the north-west was a lighthouse, a
round yellow tower perched upon a tall red cliff, that formed a
striking contrast to the white sand-dunes on either side.
In almost every depression between the chain of dunes were heavy gun
batteries, while on a broad level road running parallel to the sea
and about two hundred yards from the summits of the sand-hills were
numerous armoured motor-cars armed with quick-firers of widely
differing calibres.
"Ah, I know where I am now," thought Tressidar as he recognised the
lighthouse--not from actual acquaintanceship but from an intimate
knowledge of the British "North Sea Pilot." "That's Rothe Kliff
lighthouse, so they have landed me at Sylt. Next to Heligoland, they
couldn't have chosen a stronger place to hold me prisoner. I wonder
if they are going to keep me in some wretched prison camp in the
centre of the German Empire."
He looked in vain for the cutter's crew. The men had been landed and
marched off almost as the torpedo-boat was berthed, and were now on
their way to embark in a small steamer for Hamburg.
The exhibition of captured British seamen in that paralysed
commercial port was a stroke of diplomacy on the part of the German
authorities. It gave colour to the official lie that a portion of the
dauntless High Seas Fleet had boldly made a demonstration in force
off the Firth of Forth The English had plucked up sufficient courage
to leave their fortified harbours and give battle. It was a feeble
attempt, and the British fleet broke off the engagement before the
Germans could force a decisive action. As it was, a British
battleship had been sunk with all hands. A large armoured cruiser had
been sent to the bottom, a portion of the crew being rescued by the
humane Germans. While engaged in this work of mercy the German
cruiser had been torpedoed by a submarine. This was the fairy-tale
that was quickly spread--broadcast from Hamburg to Königsberg and
from the shores of the Baltic to the Swiss frontier.
Escorted by a file of marines, Tressidar was marched along the quay
through throngs of curious and ill-disposed sightseers, of whom nine
out of ten were in uniforms. At the end of the quay the escort turned
down a narrow lane and finally came to a halt outside a low stone
building, almost on the outskirts of the little town. The house stood
in its own grounds, which were enclosed by a tall iron fence topped
by a complex array of barbed wire. At the gate were two sentries. Two
more stood in the portico of the house, while others were much in
evidence as they marched to and fro on the raised platforms
commanding an uninterrupted view of the grounds.
Inside the fence and separated from it by a distance of twenty feet
was another barbed wire entanglement, while in the intervening space
were several large and ferocious-looking mastiffs.
This was Sub-lieutenant Tressidar's first introduction to the naval
prison of the fortress of Sylt.