A U-BOAT OF SORTS
THE "old hooker" was plugging along at a steady twelve knots. At
frequent intervals copious quantities of spray would be flung inboard
as her bows plunged into the long swell. Running dead into the eye of
the wind, she gave one an exaggerated idea of speed, for even in a
light breeze the wire rigging supporting the two short masts
verberated tunefully in the night air.
From the partly closed fo'c'sle hatchway came sounds of mild revelry.
Meredith smiled at the noise, for he recognised amongst others the
voices of some of his own men. Evidently the ex-crew of M.L. 1071
were taking kindly to their new surroundings, and were not in the
least perturbed by their change of fortune.
"Hefty sort of hooker after an M.L." remarked Wakefield. "And what
did you tell me was her name?"
"I didn't tell you any name, for the simple reason that she hasn't
one. She's simply Q 171, while to Fritz she appears as U 251--but
Fritz doesn't get away to tell the tale."
"What are these for?" asked Kenneth, kicking his boot against one of
a pair of metal rails that ran fore and aft.
"Our tram-lines," explained the lieutenant-commander of Q 171. "A
little device to clear decks for action in a brace of shakes. See our
conning-tower and that superstructure arrangement abaft it? They're
duds. Stand aside a minute, and I'll give a little demonstration of
how things are worked. A bit further--that's it; now you are clear of
the rails. Jackson!"
"Sir!"
A bearded petty officer came aft at a double, and awaited orders.
"The gadget!" exclaimed Morpeth laconically.
The man ran for'ard and was lost to sight beyond the break of the
conning-tower.
Ten seconds later, impelled by a swift and invisible force, the
conning-tower and the raised superstructure glided forward along the
rails, leaving exposed in all their stark aggressiveness three large
objects resembling exaggerated drain-pipes.
"Torpedo-tubes, by Jove!" exclaimed Wakefield.
"Guess you've never seen the type before," remarked the
lieutenant-commander of Q 171. "They are shorter than the standard
pattern, and, as you might observe, are not exactly parallel.
Discharge all three torpedoes simultaneously, and they run on
slightly divergent courses."
"Doesn't give Fritz much of a chance," observed Meredith.
"Not a dog's chance, old thing," rejoined Morpeth. "They're only
14-inch torpedoes, but they're just some. Blow a hole in a
battleship's hull large enough to take a stage-coach, so you can
imagine what happens when Fritz stops one--perhaps two, and very
occasionally three. In a way a fellow can't help feeling sorry for
Fritz, but he's asked for it all along the line. If he'd played a
straight game with his U-boats we would have given him credit for
what he'd done, and taken our chances. That chap who torpedoed our
_Cressy_, _Hogue_, and _Aboukir_ early in the war did a smart thing,
and the Navy admitted it; but now all the decent U-boat skippers have
packed up, or else have degenerated into low-down curs."
"Precisely," agreed Wakefield. "Hospital ships, and all that sort of
business."
"Unarmed merchantmen--that's why we've had to take on the Q-boat
stunt. Hardly seems proper jonnick to lure a Fritz within range, and
then blow him to bits, but, as I said before, he's asked for it."
"Bagged many?"
"A few," admitted the R.N.R. man modestly; then, pleased at a sudden
recollection, he squared his massive shoulders and burst into a
hearty roar of laughter. "That reminds me of the last Fritz we
scuppered. We had information that a U-boat was knocking around off
Bass Rock, playing Old Harry with small coasting craft out of
Arbroath and Granton, so we sent out the old s.s. _Niblick_--one of
the Pink Funnel Line. She had been sold to a firm of ship-breakers,
but when the pinch came they fitted her out again. Well, we followed
an hour after the _Niblick_ left Montrose, got within range, and
started firing at her, or rather putting shells into the sea within a
hundred yards or so. Presently we sighted a periscope. Fritz couldn't
quite understand things, since he imagined he was the only U-boat
sculling around. But after a while he couldn't resist the temptation
of joining in the pursuit, and he blew ballast-tanks and came to the
surface at a cable's length broad on our starboard beam. Before he
could get to work on the _Niblick_ with his bow quick-firer, he went
to the bottom for good and all. It required only one of our torpedoes
for that job."
"That's the stuff to give 'em!" exclaimed Meredith.
"It strikes me, Sub," observed Wakefield, as he stifled a yawn, "that
we of the M.L. patrol will have to pack up. There's nothin' doin' for
us now the Q-boats are out."
"Ever sighted a Fritz?" inquired Morpeth.
Wakefield was obliged to confess that he had not.
"I'm not surprised," continued the R.N.R. skipper. "Your little
packets make too much noise. I wouldn't mind betting that Fritz has
had a squint at you many a time through his periscope, and then he's
promptly legged it. You're like a fat policeman on the track of a
young burglar. It's the moral effect that tells. Before we cover up
these beauties I'd like to show you the torpedoes."
With a dexterous movement Morpeth opened the breech of one of the
tubes. Unlike the standard pattern, which is closed by means of six
butterfly nuts, the breech mechanism consisted of an intercepted
thread action somewhat similar to that of a quick-firer.
"We bagged that idea from the Hun," remarked Morpeth. "Now here is
our tinfish: it has a range of only two miles, but quite enough for
our purpose. Propulsive force, electric, and no fooling about with
compressed air."
The M.L. officers examined the well-oiled glistening steel cylinders.
In the bright moonlight the missiles looked harmless enough, but it
took very little effort of the imagination to picture the fate of a
craft torn by the explosion of fifty pounds of gun-cotton and aminol.
"The hydrophone-room," announced Morpeth, indicating a hatchway
almost amidships. "That's nothing new to you, I'm sure. Here is our
engine-room--petrol motors, of course."
"And your speed?" asked Wakefield.
"We are running normally--twelve knots."
"Yes--but all out?"
"With luck we might touch thirty-eight," was the unconcerned reply.
"It isn't very often we do that--it's not necessary when we're
Fritz-hunting--but when the Hun does come out with his light cruisers
and torpedo boats, then we just show a clean pair of heels before
they as much as sight us. Once they get an inkling that a British
Q-boat is out disguised as a U-boat, then we may just as well pay off
and save the taxpayers."
"But if their aircraft spotted you?" asked Meredith. "Your speed
wouldn't help you much then."
"I agree," said Morpeth. "Aircraft are, in my opinion, unmitigated
nuisances--that is, as far as we are concerned on this little stunt.
When I see any of our blimps or flying-boats I get the wind up,
because they naturally take us for a U-boat; and unless we're pretty
smart at making our distinguishing signs, and they are equally smart
at reading the same, they proceed with the utmost relish to strafe
us. When I meet the Air Force fellows ashore I chip 'em and say it's
because they're jealous."
"And when you spot a Hun 'plane?" inquired Wakefield.
"That's quite a different story. Just step aft a minute."
Morpeth led the way abaft the engine-room hatchway. On the centre
line of the narrow deck was a metal flap about eighteen inches
square.
"Our anti-aircraft gun is below there," observed the R.N.R. officer.
"No, we don't lug it on deck. It's fired from below. Now, when a Hun
spots us and we can't make ourselves scarce, we stop our engines and
display a signal as per Imperial German Navy Code Book, a copy of
which was issued to me by the British Admiralty."
"I know the thing," remarked Wakefield.
"Down swoops inquisitive Fritz," continued Morpeth, "and then we
have him cold."
Wakefield stifled another yawn.
"'Scuse me," he murmured apologetically, "but it's not because I'm
not interested. I am, really; but Nature is reminding me that I've
had no sleep for the last twenty-four hours."
"By Jove! Why didn't you tell me before?" demanded Morpeth, in
genuine concern. "Turn in, both of you, at once; and if you're out
before the sun's over the fore-yard there'll be trouble."
"Right-o, on one condition," rejoined Wakefield.
The R.N.R. lieutenant-commander smiled grimly.
"I don't have fellows making conditions with the skipper of this
hooker as a general rule," he remarked. "But what is it?"
"That we are called if there's any little stunt on," continued
Wakefield.
"That's a deal," agreed Morpeth. "Good-night."