BLUFFED
"HOWEVER," remarked Cumberleigh briskly, "the _Columbine_ business
hasn't anything to do with friend Fennelburt. We get no forrarder."
"I don't know so much about that," demurred Morpeth. "I'll use it as
a lever to prize a secret out of this von Preugfeld. We'll have him
up here and give him the shock of his life."
The R.N.R. officer touched a bell.
"Take a couple of hands and bring the U-boat skipper here," he
ordered.
"Say, Skipper," remarked Cumberleigh, who had been skimming the pages
of the log-book, "here's a rummy entry:--'2 A.M. Landed von
Preussen.' Who's von Preussen, and where else could he have been
landed except on the Scottish coast? One minute."
He turned over more leaves rapidly, nevertheless scanning the
sloping, flourish-embellished words.
"No mention of this von Preussen having been taken on board again,"
he continued. "First this fellow and this Fennelburt are landed--that
is, if the German bluejacket's yarn is correct. Will you allow me to
commence the examination, Skipper?"
"Tough Geordie's" weather-lined face wrinkled with a smile.
"By all means," he replied. "I'm not much of a hand at talky-talky.
The best argument I used in the Foul Anchor Line was a big boot.
Dagoes and Dutchies understood that. Stand by; they're bringing the
swine in."
Kapitan von Preugfeld entered jauntily. He had imagined, judging from
the result of the previous interview, that he had completely bluffed
his captors on the subject of Captain Fennelburt, and that, if he
persisted in his story, he would emerge triumphant from the ordeal.
Cumberleigh came to the point at once. "I'm anxious to know," he
remarked, "what connection there is between Leutnant Karl von
Preussen of the Prussian Guards and Captain George Fennelburt of the
British Air Force. You can enlighten me, Herr Kapitan, and I await
your explanation."
Attacked from a totally unexpected quarter, von Preugfeld's defences
were literally rushed.
"I know not," he replied sullenly.
"Try again," persisted Cumberleigh.
"_Der Teufel!_ vot you mean?" asked the U-boat commander.
"Mean? This," replied Cumberleigh, holding up U 247's log-book. "Here
is one entry:--'2 A.M. Landed von Preussen.' That is in your
handwriting."
Von Preugfeld was forced to admit the truth of the impeachment.
"It was practically the last entry you made," continued Cumberleigh,
"but there are more, apparently written by your subordinate officer.
I'll read some:--'5 P.M. Broke surface. Found large barge, X 5,
derelict. Took off her as prisoners three English officers'--not
four, you'll note. There certainly were four in R.A.F. uniforms. Now
again:--'4.10 A.M. Set von Preussen ashore.' It's perfectly obvious
that if von Preussen were set ashore twice he must have come on board
during that interval. There is no mention of your vessel
communicating with the shore between the two times you mentioned. So
I put it to you that von Preussen and Fennelburt are one and the same
person."
The Hun's face grew pale. Beads of perspiration oozed from his
forehead.
"A curse on von Loringhoven!" he muttered in German. "His lack of
caution has spoiled everything." Then in broken English he added: "I
call you to make testimony. It vos not I dat betray von Preussen. It
vos mein unter-leutnant, von Loringhoven."
"That's all we wanted to know," rejoined Captain Cumberleigh quietly.
"I might add, however, that it is hardly playing the game to put the
blame upon your subordinate. Perhaps it is a way Prussian officers
have, so it would not be surprising to hear that, later on, you will
blame him for torpedoing the hospital ship _Columbine_ and the
unarmed liner _Camperdown Castle_. Think it over."
He turned to Lieutenant-Commander Morpeth.
"Any further questions you want to ask, sir?" he inquired, with
strict formality.
"No," replied Morpeth. "Take him away."
The sliding door closed on the prisoner. "Tough Geordie" turned to
the successful amateur barrister.
"By Jove, Cumberleigh," he exclaimed, "you bowled him out this time!
But I thought you said that the log-book wasn't up to date."
"Neither was it," admitted Cumberleigh, passing his cigarette-case.
"I took the liberty of imagining that it was and ascribing the
authorship to that little worm of a von Loringhoven."
The R.A.F. captain was flushed with pleasure at his triumph. He had
vindicated himself concerning his doubts of "Fennelburt's"
genuineness. Until he had done so he was considerably uneasy in his
mind, for he hated a suspicious nature.
"I suppose you can wireless the information to Auldhaig?" he
continued. "Goodness only knows what that spy might be up to before
he's laid by the heels!"
Morpeth shook his head.
"Sorry," he replied. "It can't be did. We mustn't get ourselves into
the cart over our forthcoming stunt for the sake of putting a stopper
on a spy. You see, we don't know who might tap the wireless. Fritz
might, and that would make him horribly suspicious."
"Is there no other way to communicate with Auldhaig?" asked
Cumberleigh.
"Possibly," admitted the R.N.R. officer. "We might send a code
message by the first vessel we fall in with. I don't as a rule want
to speak a vessel, unless she's a Fritz, and then I do more than
speak. But I can't carry on with this crowd of Huns on board. Must
get rid of them somehow, and the best plan will be to tranship them.
Then'll be your chance to pass the word about your pal 'Fennelburt.'"
The conference then dissolved, Morpeth and the R.A.F. fellows turning
in for a much needed sleep, while Wakefield and Meredith went on
deck.
About half an hour later the look-out reported smoke away to the
north-east. In ordinary circumstances Q 171 would have held on,
purposely avoiding the stranger. But now she altered helm, steering a
course to intercept the ship.
It was fairly reasonable to suppose that the as yet invisible vessel
was not a Hun. German surface craft were rare birds in these waters.
When they did come out they appeared in force, accompanied by a
Zeppelin or two to give them plenty of warning should a British
patrolling squadron appear. She might be a disguised German raider,
but these generally chose to sneak along the Norwegian coast and gain
mid-Atlantic by a circuitous route.
Before long the oncoming vessel appeared above the horizon, and
presently by the aid of binoculars it was seen that she was a large
Norwegian tramp.
"That's good!" exclaimed Morpeth, who had been roused from his
slumbers by the announcement of the tramp's approach. "Decent fellows
these Norwegian skippers! 'Fraid I can't say the same for the Swedes.
Pro-Huns, waiting to see which way the cat jumps, every time. Up with
the German ensign, bos'n's mate, and hoist the International 'ID.'
Sorry to have to put the wind up 'em, but it can't be helped."
"Hanged if I ever thought I'd be under the Black Cross Ensign!"
remarked Blenkinson, as the emblem of modern piracy was sent aloft.
"And what's the meaning of those flags?" he inquired, indicating a
square of yellow bunting with a circular black patch in the centre
surmounting a blue pennant with a white ball.
"Just a polite intimation to stop and pass the time of day,"
volunteered Meredith. "Kind of invitation to have a drink.
Technically it's a signal meaning 'Heave-to or I'll sink you.'"
Approaching at an aggregate speed of twenty-seven knots, the tramp
and the Q-boat were soon at close quarters. True to her rôle of
U-boat, the latter was cleared for action, the R.A.F. officers like
the rest of the crew disguised in black oilskins in order to heighten
the deception.
The Norwegian tramp reversed engines. She flew her national ensign
and had the distinctive colours painted on her sides, together with
the word "Norge" in huge letters. But that was no guarantee that she
was a genuine Norwegian vessel. She might be a Hun raider in
disguise, with a heavy armament concealed behind hinged bulwarks.
Once more the collapsible boat was lowered, and Ainslie and
Cumberleigh, whose knowledge of German enabled them the better to
impersonate Hun officers, were rowed off to the tramp.
"Dash it all!" whispered the R.A.F. captain to his companion, as he
eyed askance the dangling Jacob's ladder hanging over the side of the
rolling vessel. "Do I swarm up that? I'll give the show away right
off."
All the same he made a creditable performance, following Ainslie to
the deck of the _Ole_, for such was her name.
A glance reassured the sub-lieutenant that the tramp was not a
disguised raider. He made a prearranged signal to the Q-boat to
relieve Morpeth of further anxiety on the subject, and then proceeded
to interview the Norwegian skipper, who also spoke German.
The latter fully expected his command to be sunk, as her papers
showed her to be bound for Leith with a cargo of foodstuffs. Nor did
he look surprised, although he expressed indignation, when Ainslie
ordered him into the boat.
"And my crew?" he asked. "Surely you will give them time to provision
and man the boats?"
"That will be decided later," replied the Sub. "Be quick. We are
waiting."
The Norwegian crew, taking it for granted that their skipper was to
be made a prisoner, showed a decidedly threatening attitude. Ainslie
and Cumberleigh were inwardly perturbed. Without "giving the show
away," it was difficult to see how they were to get out of the
trouble, until the Norwegian captain, anxious to save his men from
further ill-usage at the hands of the German pirates, ordered them to
adopt a passive attitude.
Morpeth met the skipper of the _Ole_ as he came over the side of Q
171 and escorted him below.
"Can you speak English?" he asked abruptly.
"Yes," was the reply of the astonished Norwegian. "For fifteen years
I have run between British and Norwegian ports. A man has then an
excellent chance to learn the English language."
"Then you will not be sorry to hear that this is a British vessel,"
continued Morpeth, producing a bottle of whisky. "Say when. That's
good!"
The Norwegian hesitated to accept the proffered glass.
"Why, then, am I arrested?" he asked.
"Not arrested," corrected Morpeth--"merely invited on board. I
want to ask a favour. Will you give a passage to three British
officers and twenty-six Germans?"
"Explain, please," said the master of the _Ole_.
"Tough Geordie" did so.
"I have no objection to offering hospitality to the British
officers," decided the Norwegian; "but there are difficulties as far
as the German sailors are concerned."
"Their passage will be paid for."
"I was not troubling about that question," continued the Norwegian.
"You see, I am a neutral. These men will be free while under the
Norwegian flag."
"They won't be when you set them ashore, Skipper," rejoined the
R.N.R. man meaningly. "As for International Law and the rights of
neutrals, all I can say is that if Germany had respected them the war
would have been over long ago, and I wouldn't be holding you up
to-day."
"That is quite true," admitted the master of the _Ole_. "We
Norwegians have no love for the Germans, and our mercantile navy has
suffered more at their hands than the rest of the neutral nations
combined. But I have another objection. These Germans would outnumber
my crew. Supposing they take possession forcibly of my ship and make
for a German port?"
"They won't do that," said Morpeth emphatically. "Knowing their
skipper is alive, they wouldn't go back to Germany and put their
heads through a running noose."
"That is so," remarked the Norwegian. "I will take them."
The two men, brothers of the sea, shook hands. The Norwegian returned
to his vessel in Q 171's dinghy and gave orders for the _Ole's_ boat
to be lowered.
"Now, gentlemen," said Morpeth briskly, addressing the three R.A.F.
officers, "the best of pals must part. Circumstances demand that I
send you back in yonder vessel. I've got my job, and no doubt one is
waiting for you at Auldhaig. I wouldn't shine as an airman, and I
don't think you're cut out for Q-boat work. See my meaning?"
"Quite," agreed Cumberleigh gravely.
"Of course we're sorry to have to part company, but your remarks fit
the case absolutely. And I'm rather keen to follow this Fennelburt
business."
"I've had a code message written out," continued Morpeth. "You can
take charge of that. I'm afraid you'll have von Loringhoven and those
mutineering Huns as travelling companions. Von Preugfeld I'm keeping
on board for the benefit of his health. The risks he'll run here will
be slight compared with those he'd have on board the _Ole_. Some of
his former crew would doubtless cut his throat in order to clinch
matters. Here's the boat coming alongside. Good-bye and good luck!"
Bidding Wakefield, Morpeth and Ainslie farewell, the three members of
the dissolved R.A.F. Salvage Syndicate went over the side and were
transhipped to the Norwegian vessel. The Hun seamen followed in
another boat, but von Loringhoven refused to go with them. He, too,
felt that he was in danger at the hands of the mutineers, and
Morpeth, knowing the facts and having no cause to wish the
unter-leutnant harm from a personal point of view, allowed him to
remain.
Twenty minutes later the _Ole_ was hull down.
Morpeth, who had been busy with a sextant, laid the instrument down
and began to work out his position. Presently he turned to Wakefield.
"Here we are," he said, sticking a point of the divider into the
chart. "Lat. 55 deg. 50' 10" N. Long. 6 deg. 15' 10" E. We fired our
passengers just in time. Another four hours and with luck we'll pick
up the Hoorn Reefs Lightship. Then the fun'll commence."
"All our passengers?" queried Wakefield smiling.
"Yes," replied "Tough Geordie." "You, my lad, are a worker. I'll see
that you do your bit. We'll bag some pheasants although it's close
season."
"Let's hope so," said Wakefield cheerfully.
"An' I'm a rotten sportsman," added Morpeth. "'Owing to the war,' I
suppose. 'Tany rate if I've the chance I'm going to bag 'em while
they're sitting up. After all, Fritz-strafing's my job, and the more
the merrier."