TRAPPED
COLD, grey dawn was stealing over the North Sea. Hull down to the
east'ard, her cage-mast just showing above the horizon, lay the Hoorn
Reefs Lightship. Off the tail of the bank that fringes Denmark's
shores Hun submarines were in the habit of bringing up and receiving
wireless orders before venturing through the inner mine-fields either
to the mouth of the Elbe or northwards to the Baltic through the
Kattegat.
Q 171 was moving slowly through the greyish-green water. Her triple
torpedo-tubes were ready with their deadly complements; her
quick-firers, trained fore and aft after the manner of U-boats
returning to their bases, were ready for action at a moment's notice.
The torpedo-men and gun crews, sheltering under the lee of the dummy
conning-tower, were keenly on the alert, watching their commanding
officer as he, in his turn, watched the broad expanse of sea over
which the rising sun would shortly throw its slanting rays.
Supporting himself by the shaft of the periscope, which, like the
conning-tower, was a "dud," Morpeth again and again raised his
prism-binoculars to his eyes. Just below him stood Wakefield,
conscious of a peculiar sensation of mingled doubts and hopes. He,
too, shared with Morpeth the feeling that the climax was at hand. The
great stunt that was to deal a terrific blow to Germany's campaign of
unrestricted warfare was imminent. Would it succeed?
The plan of operations was daring in its simplicity. According to
information obtained from a British Secret Service agent in Kiel, two
giant submarine-cruisers were leaving the German Baltic port, passing
through the Imperial Kiel Canal during the hours of darkness, and
leaving Brunsbuttel the following night for the Hoorn Reefs
rendezvous. Here they were to take on board two experienced U-boat
commanders from submarines expected to be homeward-bound from the
Irish Sea, and then proceed to the Atlantic seaboard of the United
States. Capable of keeping the sea for a period of sixty days without
having to re-fuel or re-provision, these submarine-cruisers were a
direct menace to the Allies in general and to Uncle Sam in
particular. Consequently, if Morpeth's plans were successful and he
were able to destroy both submarine-cruisers before the returning
U-boats arrived at the rendezvous, the moral effects of the
mysterious disappearance of two brand-new additions to Germany's
under-sea fleet would be more far-reaching than their actual loss.
And the hour was approaching when the two submarine-cruisers would
arrive at the rendezvous--and then Q 171 would strike--swiftly and
with annihilating force.
Right aft stood Meredith and Ainslie. The former was in charge of the
after quick-firer, while on the other sub-lieutenant rested the
responsibility of "dumping the ash-cans," or, in other words,
dropping the depth-charges, should they be required. He also had
charge of the hand-steerage flat, where, in the event of the
electrically-operated wheel becoming disabled, the work of steering
the Q-boat would be undertaken.
"Fritz is late in keeping his appointment," remarked Meredith.
"Beastly uncivil of him on a cold morning like this."
Ainslie swung his arms vigorously and stamped with his rubber boots
upon the metal deck.
"We'll forgive him if he shows up," he remarked. "Wonder if there'll
be a chance of a scrap? By the by, you've your gasmask ready?"
"Yes, old son," replied Meredith, producing a hideous-looking
contraption from the pocket of his oilskin coat. "We hadn't them
issued to us on the M.L.'s, for which many thanks. Gosh! What would
the old folks at home say if they could see their little Kenneth in
this?"
"You do look a Hun," admitted Ainslie, as Meredith rather clumsily
clipped the antigas device to his nose. "What a dash you'd cut at a
kids' Christmas party! Got everything--pneumatic life-belt, first-aid
outfit, meat lozenges, spirit flask an' all, in case you fancy
rivalling a cross-Channel swimmer?"
Meredith gravely assured his questioner that he had all the articles
named.
"Right-o," rejoined Ainslie. "And just kick over the oiler. Here's a
link that wants a drop of oil pretty badly. Thanks, old thing."
The Sub was about to attend to what appeared to be a stiff link in
the dummy deckgear release, when a cry came from for'ard:
"Submarine two points on the starboard bow, sir!"
At a distance of two miles in the direction indicated lay a U-boat
motionless, with her deck just awash. Telescopes and binoculars were
brought to bear upon her.
"That's not the bird I want," declared Morpeth. "She's one of the
ordinary submarine mine-layers. We'll sheer off. No sprat to catch a
mackerel for me!"
Q 171 turned eight points to port. Expecting at any moment to be
challenged by the U-boat, Morpeth gave a curt order to the signalman.
The latter toggled the _soi-disant_ U 251's signal numbers to the
halliards and stood by.
"They don't keep a sharp look-out," remarked Wakefield. "If we can
spot them lying awash, surely they've twigged us by now."
"Just back from a cruise, I expect," surmised the R.N.R. officer.
"And jolly glad to be back out of it, so they're holding on to the
slack."
"Where's the other one, then?" inquired Wakefield. "There were two
expected."
"She's neither of 'em," explained Morpeth. "Sort of stray cat coming
home. The ones expected to meet the submarine-cruisers are big
ones--three hundred feet or thereabouts. This one's not more'n a
couple of hundred. I'd slip a tinfish into her with the greatest of
pleasure, only that would spoil the proper stunt. _Au revoir_,
Fritz!"
"Seaplane, sir!" shouted one of the crew.
"Confounded nuisance!" muttered "Tough Geordie." "Get our decorations
ready, lads, and look slippy about it."
Two or three of the hands prepared to unroll a couple of square
pieces of canvas. These were Morpeth's "decorations," or, in other
words, the vessel's "aircraft distinction discs." On one side of the
canvas were painted red, white and blue concentric circles--the
British hall-mark for aerial efficiency. On the reverse were black
Maltese crosses on a white ground--the symbol adopted by Hun
aircraft. In both cases the same device showed on the deck of a ship
denoted her either as a friend or foe.
"Hun, sir!" shouted three or four voices in unison, when the rapidly
approaching seaplane drew near enough for the crew of Q 171 to
distinguish the Black Crosses on her wings.
"Up with 'em!" shouted Morpeth.
Dexterously "Tough Geordie's" decorations were unfolded and
exhibited--one at the top of the conning-tower, the other just abaft
the for'ard gun.
Right aft the gun-layer of the concealed anti-aircraft weapon kept
the sights trained on the approaching Hun, ready and eager at the
word of command to let fly with a novel type of shell that on
bursting would entail the immediate destruction of any aircraft
within a couple of hundred feet of the point of detonation.
"'Nother seaplane right astern, sir!" roared a seaman in stentorian
tones.
"Confound it!" ejaculated Morpeth. "What is their little game?"
The anti-aircraft gun could have effectively silenced one seaplane,
but the other would have turned and flown off to give the alarm. So
impassively Q 171 held on, every man on board (except von Preugfeld
and von Loringhoven, who were ignorant of what was transpiring)
fervently hoping that the Hun airmen would take it for granted that
she was a U-boat.
With a rush and a roar the first seaplane dived steeply, flattening
out and passing within fifty feet of the mystery ship's deck.
Meredith distinctly felt the rush of air from her wake and could make
out the goggled and helmeted heads of the observer and
machine-gunner. The pilot behind his triple glass screen was
invisible.
The seaplane began climbing in vast circles, until it became a mere
dot in the now sunlit sky. The second Hun, content with hovering at
five hundred feet for nearly five minutes, also began climbing, and
finally both disappeared behind a stratum of high, fleecy clouds.
"Hanged if I like that!" remarked Morpeth.
"They've probably mistaken us for one of the returning U-boats,"
suggested Wakefield. "In that case they've cleared off to report that
the submarine-cruisers can repair to the rendezvous."
"Let's hope you're right," added Morpeth. "Once I bag those
submarine-cruisers, I'll take my chance with the seaplanes."
He rapped out an order to the quartermaster.
Round swung Q 171 until she steadied on a course that would bring her
once more within a short distance of the U-boat they had sighted soon
after dawn.
She was practically in the same position, but had swung with the
change of tide--a fact which indicated that she was riding at anchor.
For full half an hour Morpeth kept her under observation, but no sign
of life was visible on board.
"Another mutiny?" queried Meredith.
"Hardly," replied Wakefield. "Unless it were a general mutiny amongst
the submarine fleet, and this one were left behind. No, it's not
that."
"Then what do you think?" asked the Sub.
"A booby-trap, possibly. If so, then Morpeth's stunt is off. I'll see
what he says."
The late skipper of M.L. 1071 went up to the R.N.R. officer and
saluted--as he always did when on deck.
"Yes," admitted "Tough Geordie" gloomily. "I'm afraid that it's a
booby-trap. Those seaplanes, too, rather support the theory. And
there are no signs of the submarine-cruisers. If nothing turns up by
noon I'll torpedo that packet and leg it home at the rate of knots."
"Any objection to my boarding her?" asked Wakefield.
"None, as far as I am concerned," replied Morpeth, "provided, of
course, you take all reasonable precautions. I'll be ready in case of
an accident, but I must insist upon your taking a volunteer crew."
A boarding-party was quickly forthcoming, consisting of Wakefield,
Meredith, an armourer's mate, and two bluejackets. Launching the
collapsible dinghy, they approached the U-boat, while Q 171, her
concealed torpedo-tubes bearing on the former's hull, was ready to
frustrate or at any rate to avenge any attempt upon the
boarding-party.
A rope ladder trailed forlornly over the U-boat's bulging side. This
Wakefield studiously avoided, making for the after-part where the
long tapering stern dipped beneath the surface.
He hailed in German. No reply came from the apparently deserted
craft, which was fretting at her cable in the now strong tideway.
Wakefield motioned to the rowers to pull alongside. Followed by
Meredith and the armourer's mate, he gained the rusty deck.
"Hatches are closed," he said, in a low voice.
"Soon have them open, sir," declared the petty officer confidently.
"I think not," replied Wakefield. "Not until we've looked round a
bit."
The three men moved for'ard. There were signs that the boat had not
recently been in commission. Apparently she had been towed out of
harbour and moored in the isolated position off the Hoorn Reefs. Why?
If as a mark-boat to assist returning submarines to verify their
position, the fact of closed hatches was easily explained. Being
shut, they enabled her to ride out a spell of bad weather, otherwise
she would have foundered.
"That's curious," exclaimed Meredith, pointing to the closed
fore-hatch.
"What?" asked Wakefield.
"This," replied the Sub, pointing to a small, almost unnoticeable
disc let in flush with the steel lid.
"By Jove, rather!" agreed the lieutenant. "An ebonite plug with a
copper core! Yes; look here. There's a corresponding gadget on the
deck. The two would come in contact when the holding down bolts of
the hatch are released and the cover flies back. I fancy we were wise
not to meddle with those hatch covers, or our curiosity would have
landed us in a hole."
"She's stuffed with explosives, then?"
"Precisely," agreed Wakefield. "Once the circuit is completed by
opening any of these hatches, up she goes, and anyone on board with
her. We've seen enough. We'll clear out."
"What's the reason?" inquired Meredith.
"Ask Morpeth," was the reply. "He'll probably tell you that details
of his stunt have leaked out. Hello! Seaplanes coming back? Look
alive there!"
The boarding-party hurried to the boat. Quickly the rowers gave way.
It was a race between a comparatively slow-moving boat and a pair of
swift seaplanes. The former had to cover about two hundred yards: the
latter a distance of from two to three miles.
The aircraft would have won hands down had they not banked and
circled. As it was, there was time for Wakefield and his party to
regain the mystery ship.
"Fritz has smelt a rat," reported the R.N.V.R. officer. "That
U-boat's chock-a-block with explosives."
"Good enough!" declared Morpeth, ringing for "Easy ahead, both
engines." "See that the smoke-screen gear is ready, Wakefield. We may
want it, badly."
Q 171 increased her distance from the booby-trap to a good two
cables' length, then she turned until she could bring her broadside
torpedo-tubes to bear upon the anchored U-boat.
Diving steeply, the first seaplane swooped down to within three
hundred feet. From underneath her fuselage a black object dropped
swiftly--then another. Four seconds later the first missile struck
the water, exploding with a deafening report unpleasantly close to
the Q-boat's starboard quarter and deluging the after quick-firer's
crew with spray. The second bomb fell further away.
Morpeth gave no signal to the anti-aircraft gun, although the
departing seaplane offered a tempting target. His cool and ready wit
saw an opening and he took it.
Both Hun machines were now flying on a parallel course, the first one
manoeuvring to return to the attack. Incautiously they were
approaching the anchored U-boat.
Like an arrow from a bow, a gleaming steel cylinder leapt from the
Q-boat's side. Striking the water with a shower of spray, it dived
obliquely and made straight for the Hun's booby-trap, its trail
clearly defined by the milky foam on the surface.
Suddenly there was a lurid flash that seemed to outshine the light of
the sun. A roar so stupendous that it shook Q 171 from stem to stern
gave warning that the torpedo had reached its mark.
The terrific crash was not merely the result of the torpedo
detonating. Laden with tons of powerful explosive, the decoy U-boat
was literally blown to fragments. Even at the intervening distance
pieces of molten metal hit Q 171 with great force. Fragments rattled
against her side and on her deck like hailstones upon a galvanised
iron shed.
For a brief space officers and men were stupefied by the overpowering
concussion. Wakefield and three of the seamen were hit by flying
debris, although fortunately the wounds were nothing worse than skin
deep. In fact, Wakefield, in the excitement of it all, was unaware of
the fact until Meredith called his attention to a trickle of blood
down his cheek.
The first seaplane, which at the moment of explosion was immediately
above the anchored U-boat, had vanished utterly in the irresistible
blast of fire. The other, with her wings and tail planes riddled and
rent, fluttered downwards like a wounded bird until, the drop
developing into a tail-spin, she crashed into the sea. Floats were
shattered under the impact, and almost before the foam had subsided
the wreck of the second seaplane had disappeared beneath the waves.
"The stunt's a wash-out," declared Morpeth disappointedly. "It might
have been worse, though, if those seaplanes had brought a crowd of
their pals with them instead of being too sure off their own bat.
We'll have to leg it for home."
"If we can," added Wakefield calmly. "Look!"
He pointed with outstretched arm towards the south-west. Pelting
along at high speed, with their funnels belching out clouds of
oil-fed smoke, were seven German ocean-going torpedo boats.
Simultaneously, away to the nor'ard, three more columns of smoke
indicated pretty plainly that Fritz was doing his utmost to trap the
too daring Q-boat.
"Tough Geordie" shrugged his massive shoulders.
"Looks like a bit of a scrap after all," he remarked.