THE SHELL-BATTERED HOSPITAL
ON returning to Esbjerg, Tressidar and Fuller bade Lieutenant
Holloway good-bye and hurried off to the British Consul's office.
Acting with the greatest dispatch, that official, having taken down
the officers' sworn statements, communicated by telegraph with the
British Ambassador at Copenhagen. He, in turn, acquainted the Danish
Government with the attempt to destroy the "Nordby" by internal
explosion and requested that Otto Oberfurst be arrested.
Already the Danes were too late. The spy, having landed with the
skipper of the mined ship, contrived to slip away, and for the
present all traces of him were lost.
That same evening Tressidar and his chum sailed for England in a
Danish mail-boat, arriving at Grimsby without incident.
Here they separated, Fuller proceeding to the Naval Air Station at
Great Yarmouth, while Tressidar made for York in order to catch the
Scottish express.
Rumours of naval activity in the North Sea urged him northwards with
the least possible delay, but it was not until eight on the following
morning that the slow "local" crawled into Auldhaig station.
"You've been remarkably quick, Mr. Tressidar," was the senior
officer's greeting, when the sub. reported himself for duty. "It was
only an hour ago that we received official news of your escape from
Sylt."
"That seems months ago, sir," said the sub.
"No doubt," agreed the rear-admiral. "There's nothing like activity
to make the time slip past. Unfortunately we have had little to do
here during the last month. By the bye, the 'Heracles' is cruising.
She'll be back, I hope, on Thursday."
"What happened when she chased the German cruiser, sir, might I ask?
The last we saw of her was when we were adrift in the cutter."
Tressidar had previously made guarded inquiries, but beyond the
knowledge of the fact that the British cruiser had come out "top
dog," he could gather nothing definite.
"Oh, the usual," replied the senior officer. "The Hun had the
advantage of speed. The 'Heracles' had to steer a zig-zag course in
order to avoid a submarine. One 'U' boat did, in fact, let loose a
couple of torpedoes, but they missed. The German looked like getting
clean away when one of our 'Comus' class came up. You know her speed
and you can guess the rest. Anyway, the third shot from the light
cruiser did the trick, and our two vessels between them managed to
rescue about forty of the Germans. The name of the sunken vessel was
the 'Dortmunde,' and she was bound for Ireland."
"For Ireland?" echoed the sub. in surprise.
"Yes," continued the rear-admiral. "Unfortunately there's trouble
amongst a small section of the extreme Nationalists. The majority of
the Irish are loyal to the core. I'm an Irishman myself, born and
bred in Leinster, so I can speak with authority. At any rate, the
'Heracles' nipped some awkward little plot in the bud. Once they've
tried, the Germans will have another shot at stirring up sedition.
These Huns are not deterred by failures, dash 'em! Although they funk
the main issue at sea, they still persist in their petty operations,
in spite of losses."
"By the bye, sir," said Tressidar, "there's something I wish to
report." And he revealed to the astonished rear-admiral the actual
cause of the blowing-up of the "Pompey."
"Bless my soul!" ejaculated the senior officer. "D'ye call that 'by
the bye'? You haven't said a word to anyone about the business?"
"No, sir, not even to the vice-consul at Esbjerg. Only Mr. Holloway
and Mr. Fuller know the secret, and they will take good care not to
divulge anything."
"And the spy? Does he know that you are aware of his crime?"
"I think not, sir. He recognised me as one of the 'Pompey's'
officers, but I said nothing to lead him to believe I had overheard
his conversation with the mysterious count. He admitted that he was a
deserter, and braved it out. Before we could get to business--the
discovery that he had chucked his bomb overboard rather took the wind
out of my sails--the 'Nordby' bumped into a mine."
"Very good. Now, Mr. Tressidar, will you kindly write out a detailed
report of what occurred between the count and the spy, and I'll see
that it is forwarded to the proper quarter. After that you can stand
easy until Thursday. You look as if a good square meal or two will do
you good."
The genial Irishman shook hands with his subordinate and did him the
honour of asking him to dinner that evening. The sub. could not
refuse, although he rather dreaded the ceremonious meal. Also he had
made other plans, but he realised that it does not do to refuse a
rear-admiral's invitation.
Arrayed in a borrowed mess uniform, since his gear was, as far as he
was aware, still on board the "Heracles," Tressidar arrived at the
admiral's official residence--a large, old-fashioned mansion standing
on the side of a hill overlooking the harbour.
The ponderous repast proceeded slowly and smoothly, course after
course was consumed, and by the time the wine was placed upon the
table conversation was flowing briskly.
The room was brilliantly lighted with hundreds of candles, imparting
an old-world aspect to the uniformed company. The windows, heavily
curtained, shut out the light mist that was creeping in from seaward.
"Gentlemen!" exclaimed the senior officer, rapping the table with his
mallet. "The King."
According to time-honoured custom, when the height of the deck-beams
on board a man-of-war prevented the loyal toasts to be drunk
standing, the guests, still sitting, raised their glasses.
Even as they did so a loud crash, quickly followed by another and
another, broke the silence.
"Bless my soul!" ejaculated the rear-admiral. "Those infernal Zepps.
No, don't draw the curtains, Garboard. If you want to see the fun, go
outside."
Then with a "Drake touch" he poised his glass.
"Gentlemen!" he exclaimed. "There is yet time to duly drink His
Majesty's health," and the toast was drunk with enthusiasm.
The officers hurriedly prepared to dash off to their various
stations, when the door was thrown open and a messenger
unceremoniously approached the senior officer.
"Signal just through, sir," he reported. "German cruisers off
Auldhaig."
Such indeed was the case. With a recklessness that outrivalled their
previous attempts upon the east coast of England, seven large
armoured cruisers, taking advantage of hazy weather conditions and
being efficiently guarded against surprise by half a dozen Zeppelins,
had ventured to the east coast of Scotland. Three small British
patrol boats had been sunk before they could give warning, while by
that element of luck that had been responsible for many almost
incredible happenings of the Great War, the raiders were able to get
within effective range of the naval base of Auldhaig without being
detected.
On the face of it the attack seemed nothing short of suicidal; yet
when the true facts became known it was evident that the Germans were
acting upon the principle in which a draught-player deliberately
sacrifices one of his pieces to gain two of his opponent's.
The Huns knew that Auldhaig was practically devoid of warships. The
nearest British base where any considerable section of the Grand
Fleet lay was at Rosyth, and naturally they expected that the giant
battle-cruisers under Jellicoe's orders would issue forth to cut off
the raiders' retreat.
In that case the German cruisers were to do as much damage as they
possibly could to the Scottish north-east coast and turn tail.
Although not of the most modern type, they were of a fair turn of
speed, and with luck might draw the pursuers within range of a number
of submarines, while at the same time Zeppelins would attempt to
distract the British by dropping heavy explosives upon the
battle-cruisers.
So much for that phase of the operations. The part played by the
German warships bombarding Auldhaig was quite subordinate to the main
strategy and tactics of the hostile fleet. While the British
battle-cruisers were in chase of the raiders, a far more modern and
powerful German squadron was to make a dash for the Humber and Tyne
ports.
From the terrace of the rear-admiral's house Tressidar watched the
flashes of the hostile guns. The Germans had it practically their own
way, for, however well protected Auldhaig Harbour was against aerial
attack, the place was not armed with heavy gun batteries at all
suitable for replying to the ten- and twelve-inch guns of the German
cruisers.
Relying implicitly upon her steel-clad battleships and cruisers,
Great Britain, neglecting the warning of Scarborough and Whitby, had
omitted to provide adequate land defences except at a few of the
principal naval ports.
And while enormous shells hurtled upon the town and harbour,
Zeppelins, fearing little from the anti-aircraft guns, hovered
overhead. Considering the fury of the almost unimpeded fire, the
damage done was inconsiderable until a shell burst--at least, so it
appeared to Tressidar--fairly on the buildings used as the naval
sick-quarters. Long tongues of flame leapt skywards, the glare
throwing the surrounding houses into strong relief as the fire
quickly gained a strong hold.
Without a moment's hesitation the sub. took to his heels and ran in
the direction of the burning building. Here, at least he could be of
service. As he ran he thanked Providence that Doris Greenwood was not
on duty; but there were other delicately nurtured women exposed to
the fury of the hostile shells, as well as perhaps fifty "cot cases,"
where patients unable to help themselves were in peril of being burnt
alive if they had survived the effect of the devastating shell.
Through the gate of the rear-admiral's grounds, where a great-coated
seaman sentry with his rifle at the slope paced imperturbably to and
fro, Tressidar ran. He could hear the thud of fragments of metal
falling from an immense height. The air reeked with the acrid fumes
of smokeless powder, mingled with the pungent smell of burning wood.
A shell, falling into soft ground less than thirty yards from the
road, burst with an ear-splitting crash. The blast of the explosion
hurled the sub. sideways, until he was brought up with his shoulder
coming into violent contact with a wooden fence. Fortunately the
principal direction of the detonation was directed skywards, and
although fragments of the projectile hurtled past him, Tressidar
escaped death or at least serious injury by a hairsbreadth.
The sick-quarters were situated on the outskirts of the town and
within a hundred yards of the water's edge, whence a pier two hundred
feet in length afforded landing facilities for the boats of the
fleet.
As Tressidar drew nearer he discovered, to his great relief, that he
had been mistaken as to the exact spot where the monster projectile
had fallen. Still, the damage done was bad enough, for the shell had
dropped in an outhouse close to the main block of buildings. The
detached portion had been completely pulverised, while a considerable
part of the roof of the hospital had been blown to fragments. Gaping
holes were also visible in the walls, while a fierce fire was raging
within the building.
It was evident that the ordinary staff was unable to cope with the
work of clearing the wards of the patients. Nurses and sick-baymen
were working heroically, their efforts assisted by members of the
National Guard and a few townsfolk whose dread of the German shells
was unable to overcome their energy in rescuing the patients from a
terrible death.
Forcing his way through the choking smoke, the sub. toiled like a
Trojan, lifting helpless men from beds that were already smouldering
and carrying them out into the open air. Six times he plunged into
the inferno. The floor-board creaked under his feet. Smoke eddied
through the gaping seams. Plaster was continually falling through
from the shattered and shaken ceilings, while above the roar of the
flames could be heard the crash of hostile projectiles that were
falling with terrible rapidity.
"All clear, sir," shouted a blackened and grimy sick-bay steward.
"That's the lot of 'em."
As he spoke, a portion of the floor collapsed. The man disappeared
from view into a gaping pit of smouldering debris, almost before he
had time to utter a cry.
Had Tressidar given a moment's thought he might have hesitated, but
in an instant he leapt after the luckless man.
He alighted feet foremost upon a heap of charred wood, from which the
smoke poured in thick, eddying clouds. Gasping and vainly
endeavouring to check himself from coughing, the sub. stooped and
groped. His hands came in contact with the unfortunate man, who in
falling must have struck his head against some solid object, for he
was unconscious and lying on his back upon the smouldering debris.
Raising the man and hoisting him upon his shoulders, Tressidar looked
round for a means of escape. Apparently there was none. Seven feet
above his head was an irregularly shaped hole, through which he could
discern the flame-tinged smoke. A crash announced that another
portion of the roof had collapsed, and with it a part of the outside
wall. Even had he been missed, the sub. realised that rescue in that
direction was out of the question.
His lack of knowledge of the plan of the buildings, too, was against
him. So far as he could make out, he had leapt into a cellar that had
been used as a store for hospital goods. Seen through the smoke, the
place appeared to have no exit, yet he argued--the thought flashing
across his mind--that there must be some means of communication apart
from the hole in the floor that had just been caused by the flames.
Choking and spluttering, his eyes streaming with water from the
effects of the driving particles of hot ashes, Tressidar plunged into
the darkness with his burden lying inertly across his back.
Stumbling between rows of packing-cases the sub: struggled on, until
further progress was barred by a solid stone wall. Retreat in that
direction was cut off. For a few seconds he stood, still half dazed
at the discovery, then, turning, he lurched heavily in the opposite
direction.
He was gasping deeply. The lack of pure air and the dead weight upon
his shoulders was telling upon his powerful frame. His lungs seemed
on the point of bursting. Yet he gamely struggled onwards.
Over the heap of smouldering rubbish on which he had alighted when he
had made his voluntary leap into the trap he scrambled, fell on his
knees, and with a strenuous effort recovered himself. Beyond was
another dark, smoke-enshrouded cavity. Was there an exit in that
direction, he wondered?
Again, almost before he became aware of the fact, his head came in
contact with a stone wall. Half turning, he propped his burden
against the barrier, and with his disengaged hand fumbled helplessly,
pawing the rough masonry like a trapped animal.
A comparatively cool current of air wafted in, temporarily dispersing
the noxious fumes. Eagerly he took in draughts of the life-giving
air. His benumbed brain was just able to realise that not so very far
distant was an opening communicating with the outside. But where, and
how large?
He edged away to the right. His hand no longer encountered solid
wall. There was a aperture torn by a shell. Beyond was comparatively
pure air.
Setting the unconscious man upon the ground, Tressidar crept through
the narrow opening. Then, gripping his charge by the ankles, he
hauled the man, feet foremost, into comparative safety. Utterly
exhausted, he dropped to the ground and waited, breathing
stertorously as his sorely taxed strength returned.
The bombardment had now ceased, but overhead the roar of the flames
and the continual crash of falling masonry and tiles proclaimed the
fact that the fire was still maintaining a fierce grip upon the
building. The trembling of the walls warned the sub. that his
temporary shelter was no longer safe.
Dragging the unconscious man--for he no longer had the strength to
lift him--Tressidar backed along a passage and up a short flight of
stone steps. Even as he did so, the roof of the cellar in which he
had been so nearly trapped collapsed under the weight of hundreds of
tons of rubble.
Just aware that people were hastening to his assistance as he emerged
into the open air, Tressidar relinquished his burden. But for the
support of two stalwart bluejackets the sub. would have fallen.
Then came the anti-climax. He burst into a roar of laughter as he
surveyed his borrowed mess uniform, now a collection of scorched rags
that would ill-become a scare-crow.
"Dash it all!" he ejaculated. "Poor old Jimmy's mess-kit."
"Never mind," said a low voice. "After what you've done, Ronald, I
don't suppose he will."
Tressidar looked up. Through the mist that swain before his
smoke-rimmed eyes he saw Doris Greenwood.