[Illustration: Cover art]

[Frontispiece: "THE BLACK CROSS FLAG WAS HAULED DOWN, AND REHOISTED UNDER THE WHITE ENSIGN"]

The Submarine Hunters

 A Story of Naval Patrol Work in the Great War

BY

PERCY F. WESTERMAN

 Author of

 "Rounding Up the Raider" "The Dispatch-Riders" "The Fight for Constantinople" &c. &c. 

_Illustrated by E. S. Hodgson_

BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED

LONDON GLASGOW AND BOMBAY

1918

Contents

 CHAP. 

 I. THE MYSTERIOUS MEETING ON ST. MENA'S ISLAND II. THE TABLES TURNED III. KIDNAPPED IV. THE AWAKENING V. ABOARD U75 VI. THE TRAMP VII. ON THE BED OF THE SEA VIII. BALKED BY A SEA-PLANE IX. THE LANDING AT PORT TREHERNE X. A TREACHEROUS PLOT XI. PREPARATIONS XII. THE WHITE FLAG--AND AFTERWARDS XIII. THE ARM OF THE LAW XIV. A FRUITLESS QUEST XV. THE ADMIRAL WORKS THE ORACLE XVI. H. M. S. "CAPELLA" XVII. A DOUBLE BAG XVIII. THE SMOKE-SIGNALS XIX. THAT FRIDAY NIGHT XX. TO THE RESCUE XXI. ADRIFT IN THE CHANNEL XXII. AN UNEXPECTED CAPTURE XXIII. MINED XXIV. "SHRAP" XXV. OFF THE BELGIAN COAST XXVI. DISABLED IN MID-AIR XXVII. NOT ON PAROLE XXVIII. ALMOST RECAPTURED XXIX. BOUND FOR THE BALTIC XXX. THE AFFAIR OFF KIEL

Illustrations

"THE BLACK CROSS FLAG WAS HAULED DOWN AND RE-HOISTED UNDER THE WHITE ENSIGN" . . . . . . . . . _Frontispiece_

THE INTERVIEW WITH THE GERMAN CAPTAIN (missing from book)

"'D'YE KEN YON?' ASKED THE BRITISH SKIPPER, AS HE EYED THE PODGY GERMAN LEUTNANT WITH CONTEMPT"

"THE 'TREMENDOUS' WAS HEADING STRAIGHT FOR THE DOOMED SUBMARINE"

THE SINKING OF THE "ORONTABELLA" (missing from book)

"THE WORK OF DEMOLITION WAS ACCOMPLISHED"

THE SUBMARINE HUNTERS

CHAPTER I

The Mysterious Meeting on St. Mena's Island

"We've made a proper mess of things this time!" ejaculated RossTrefusis--"or rather I have. "

"It can't be helped, " rejoined his chum, Vernon Haye. "We've done ourlevel best to get her off. How long is it before the tide floats her?"

"A matter of seven or eight hours, worse luck. You see, it was onlyhalf ebb when we landed. "

Ross bent down to remove a streak of bluish-grey mud from his ankle. 

"I wish we'd taken the rowing-boat instead of this heavy old tub, " hecontinued. "We'll be pretty peckish before we get back to the Hall, and dinner's at seven-thirty. "

Vernon laughed. 

"It wouldn't be the first time I've had to go without grub, " heremarked. "If you don't mind, I don't. "

"Then it's no use standing here, " said Ross. "Let's get on our shoesand go for a stroll. "

Vernon Haye was a broad-shouldered lad of fifteen, with clear-cutfeatures and dark hair. His companion was of about the same age, but agood two inches taller. His complexion was florid, his hair of anauburn tint that narrowly escaped coming within the category of red orginger. His features were full and rounded. In short, he was atypical Cornish youth. 

Ross's father, Admiral Paul Trefusis, lived at Killigwent Hall, alarge, rambling, sixteenth-century house, standing within a mile of thesea on the North Cornish coast. 

Both lads went to the same public school, but owing to the fact thatVernon's father, Captain Haye, was on active service with the GrandFleet, young Haye was spending the summer holidays with his chum atKilligwent Hall. 

That afternoon the lads had taken a small sailing-boat and had made forSt. Mena's Island, a small rocky piece of land lying about a mile offshore, and nearly five miles from Killigwent Cove. The island wasroughly three-quarters of a mile in length, and four hundred yards widein the broadest part. The north and west sides were precipitous, buton the side nearest to the mainland the ground sloped gradually, andwas indented by several narrow tidal coves. 

The glamour of romance lay thickly around that rocky pile. Centuriesago it was the abode of a hermit, who, amongst his various self-imposedtasks, had built a chapel on the summit, from the tower of which a woodfire was kindled nightly to warn mariners of the treacherous reefs inthe vicinity of the island. 

In course of time, St. Mena's Island became the haunt of wreckers andsmugglers. The chapel, in spite of its massive construction, fell avictim to the ravages of wind and weather, but still served as aconvenient shelter for the lawless Cornishmen who profited by themisfortunes of honest seamen. Immune from interference, by reason ofthe superstitious awe in which the island was held by the country-folk, the smugglers and wreckers thrived exceedingly until late in theeighteenth century, when stern measures were taken to suppress theirmisdeeds. From that time St. Mena's Island was deserted, except forthe casual visits of tourists and summer visitors from the neighbouringtowns of Padstow and Newquay, and countless numbers of sea-birds thattake up their abode in crannies in the almost inaccessible cliffs. 

Ross Trefusis was right in taking the blame of their misfortunes uponhimself. He knew better, but, neglecting to take ordinary precautions, he had allowed the boat to be left high and dry by the falling tide. Upon returning to the cove the lads had found the heavy craft lying onits bilge in the stiff bluish clay, with a ridge of jagged rockscutting her off from the sea. 

"Perhaps, " suggested Vernon, "some other boat will put off to theisland, and we can get them to put us ashore. "

"Hardly likely, " was the reply. "Anyway, we'll keep a look-out. Whichwould you prefer to do--explore the Smugglers' Cave and Dead Man'sCave, or climb up to the ruins?"

"The ruins, " decided young Haye eagerly. "I like fooling about oldruins, and I've already seen the caves. Besides, we can see if thereare any boats about. It's almost like being shipwrecked on a desertisland. "

"Hard lines if we were, " commented Ross. "Suppose we take an inventoryof our possessions? Let the see: one pocket-knife, a silver watch thathas refused duty, a notebook and pencil, and five shillings and threehalfpence. What have you to add to the common stock?"

"A knife, a pocket compass, my watch--which does go; it's nowfive-and-twenty to four--and sixteen shillings and eightpence in papermoney and hard coin. "

"Not a morsel of grub between the pair of us, then, " declared Ross. "Outlook beastly unpromising. Faced with starvation unless we make upour minds to knock over some gulls. They are horribly fishy to eat, Ibelieve, and we've nothing to make a fire. "

"It makes you pine for the flesh-pots of Kllligwent Hall, old man, "exclaimed Vernon laughingly. "Never mind, let's make a move. I votewe get rid of these sweaters. It is frightfully hot. "

Stripping off their woollen garments, and placing them for safety undera gorse bush, the two lads made their way up the steep ascent to theruins, till, hot and well-nigh breathless in spite of being "intraining", they reached the summit of the island. 

"What a jolly view!" exclaimed Vernon, turning and taking in thepanorama of rocky coast-line, an expanse of jagged, frowning, brownishcliffs topped by the brilliant green of the Cornish moorland. 

"Not bad, " agreed Ross complaisantly, for the view was no stranger tohim. "See that cliff shaped like the head and shoulders of a beardedman? That's Hidden Money Cove that I was speaking to you about lastnight. We'll go there next week, all being well. You see, there's nota sail in sight, so our chances of getting back to dinner are veryremote. What's more, unless I'm very much mistaken, there's arain-storm coming. See that dark cloud working up against the wind?"

"Yes, " assented Haye. "What of it? A little rain won't hurt. "

"It's the after effect, " said Ross. "It's quite possible it may blowhard before night, in which case we're done for. I've known itimpossible to approach Killigwent Cove for a week at a time. "

Vernon whistled. 

"Sounds lively, " he remarked. 

"Of course that is in the winter, " his chum hastened to remind him. "These summer gales don't last very long, but we'll be feeling precioushungry by the time we get home, I guess. "

"Look here, " said Vernon after a while. "I vote we get those sweaters. We don't want to be soaked. "

"Very well, " assented Ross. "But there's no great hurry. "

Having retrieved the sweaters, the chums leisurely retraced their wayto the ruins. For half an hour or more they wandered around theremains, descending into the dark crypt, and running considerable riskin climbing to the summit of the tower. Since the spiral stone stepshad vanished long ago, the only means of getting to the top was byclimbing the gnarled stem of the ivy which grew profusely on the faceof the building. The tower was roofless, a low, partly demolishedparapet encircling it on three sides, while a couple of weather-wornoak-beams supporting a few planks formed a kind of platform where theroof formerly existed. 

"Think it's safe?" asked Vernon anxiously, as his chum, having gotastride the parapet, was about to lower himself upon the decrepitwoodwork. 

"I've done it scores of times, " said Ross confidently. "That's right, I'll guide your foot. Now let go. "

"By Jove!" suddenly exclaimed Haye; "there's a fellow coming towardsthe ruin. How on earth did he get here?"

"Goodness only knows, " said Trefusis inconsequently. "He may havelanded in Main Beach Cove. Anyhow, he's at perfect liberty to do so. I suppose he's interested in ruins. "

"Let's drop a bit of stone and give him a shock when he gets here, "suggested Vernon. "We'll apologize afterwards. Ten to one he'll giveus a passage back. "

"I'm not so keen on dropping chunks of stone, " objected Ross. "I votewe lie low for a bit at any rate, and see what he's up to. "

"Why, do you think he's a spy?" asked his companion. Trefusis gruntedscoffingly. 

"Spy?" he repeated. "What object would a spy have on St. Mena'sIsland? This part of Cornwall is well outside the military area. There's nothing in the fortification line for miles. No, it's notthat. But _cave_, here he comes. "

The lads crouched behind the crumbling parapet, and by means ofconveniently placed gaps in the masonry watched the stranger's approach. 

There was nothing about the man's appearance to suggest that he wasanything but an ordinary holiday-maker. He was slightly above averageheight, rather heavily built, and inclined to flabbiness. Hiscomplexion was undoubtedly florid, although his face and hands weretanned a deep brown. 

He was dressed in a light-grey lounge suit, with a straw hat and brownshoes, while in his right hand he carried a thick Malacca cane. 

The exertion of climbing up the hill on which the ruined chapel stoodapparently told upon him, for he was considerably out of breath when hepassed under the ivy-clad arch. Here he stopped to wipe his face witha handkerchief, and while doing so dropped his cane. 

It fell upon the stones with a dull thud. 

At the same time the stranger gave vent to an exclamation thatcertainly was not English. 

The lads exchanged glances. Here was the beginning of a mystery. Theheaviest Malacca cane would not have made that dull metallic sound infalling, while it was evident by the careful examination the strangermade of the retrieved article that he was more than considerate for itsappearance. 

The man made no attempt to explore the ruins. The weather-worn fanehad no attractions for him. It was apparently only a rendezvous, asfar as he was concerned, for at frequent intervals he would walkstealthily through the archway, and look attentively down the hillleading to the coves on the side facing the mainland. 

It had now begun to rain--big drops that were the precursors of a heavyshower. The lads, in their exposed position on the tower, paid scantheed. Their interest and attention were centred upon the anxiouslyawaiting stranger fifty feet beneath them. 

Presently Ross happened to glance towards the stretch of water thatseparated St. Mena's Island from the mainland. A boat was approaching. Already it was more than half-way across. It was a rowing-boat, containing only one person. What object would anyone have in rowingacross on a wet afternoon like this? wondered the lad. 

Just then the stranger began rubbing his hands with ill-concealedsatisfaction. Although he had been frequently on the look-out, he hadevidently only just caught sight of the approaching boat. 

The lads watched the little craft till it was hidden by the interveninghigh ground, but already Ross felt certain that it was making for MainBeach Cove. 

There were three landing-places on St. Mena's Island--Half Tide Cove, where the lads had left their stranded boat; Main Beach Cove, a littleto the north-east; and Deadman's Cove, farther away. Of these, onlyMain Beach was available between one hour on either side of low water. The fact that the boat was making for it, and had already successfullyskirted the submerged reef lying off it, proved that its occupant hadlocal knowledge. 

Some considerable time elapsed between the temporary disappearance ofthe boat and the appearance of the new-comer; but at length he cameinto view, walking rapidly up the steep incline without showinganything of the physical strain that the first stranger had betrayed. 

Suddenly Ross Trefusis recognized the man. He almost felt inclined tolaugh at his suspicions. It was Dr. Ramblethorne, the medicalpractitioner at St. Bedal--a town of considerable importance aboutseven miles from Killigwent Hall. The doctor was a frequent guest ofAdmiral Trefusis, and was generally considered a good, all-roundsportsman. He was about thirty years of age, over six feet in height, of sinewy frame and of great muscular power. He was the wildestmotorist in that part of Cornwall, as the endorsements on his driver'slicence testified. A keen golfer, good shot, and fisherman, he wasalso a botanist; and that, perhaps, thought Ross, might account for hispresence on St. Mena's Island, although it was difficult to reconcilethe fact that Ramblethorne had an appointment with a stranger at thisdesolate spot. If a joint botanic expedition had been fixed up, whyhad not the two men met on the mainland?

The unknown made no attempt to advance to meet the doctor. Instead, heremained within the ruins until Ramblethorne entered. 

Their greeting was a surprise even to the lads, for the doctor, holdingout his hand, exclaimed in German:

"Well met, von Ruhle! Let us hope that your arrangements will provesatisfactory. "

CHAPTER II

The Tables Turned

Both Ross Trefusis and Vernon Haye understood and could speak German. Ross was especially good in his knowledge of the language of the modernHun, for in his early youth he had been inflicted with a Germangoverness. Since German is one of the subjects for Sandhurst--forwhich both lads were preparing--their knowledge had been considerablyimproved under the cast-iron rule of a native professor. 

"Eminently satisfactory, " replied von Ruhle. "We will go into detailslater. You had no difficulty in coming here, I hope?"

"None whatever. "

"No suspicions?" asked von Ruhle anxiously. 

Ramblethorne smiled. 

"My dear von Ruhle, " he replied. "A medical practitioner is abovesuspicion. He is free to go anywhere at any hour of the day or nightwithout question. No man would suspect----"

"You are clever, von Hauptwald----"

"Ssh!" interrupted the doctor. "Call me Ramblethorne, if you please. Of course there is no danger here, but at other times and in otherplaces you might incautiously give the show away. You had a goodpassage?"

"Excellent, " replied von Ruhle. "I am getting well-known to thestrafed English custom-house officers at Queenboro' and Harwich. Theyrecognize me by my stick, I believe, but they little know that it is anew one every time. What do you think of this? I have brought it as aspecimen for you to see. Just fancy! every time I cross to Hollandtwenty kilogrammes of good copper are on their way to the Fatherland. By this time Herr Stabb of Essen is well acquainted with my Malaccacanes. "

"A good weight to carry about, " remarked Ramblethorne, wielding thedisguised bar of copper. "I wonder you troubled. "

"Mein Gott! I could not leave it, " declared von Ruhle. "Someone mighttake a fancy to it, and then the secret would be out. But tell me:have you succeeded in getting that commission you spoke of?"

"I am still living in hopes, " replied Ramblethorne. "Of course I couldhave obtained a post of temporary surgeon in the British Navy, but itwasn't good enough. It's no fun running the risk of being torpedoed byour own Submarines. The English Army offers a wider scope. Believeme, I am worth more than a division to the Emperor. I'll get acommission, never you fear, for I have heaps of influence. Then, ofcourse, I will do my utmost to fight against a terrible epidemic thatwill mysteriously break out amongst the troops. "

Ramblethorne, otherwise von Hauptwald, threw back his shoulders andlaughed uproariously. 

"Careful!" hissed his companion. "You will be heard over the wholeisland. "

"What matters? There is not another soul in sight besides ourselves. How much petrol have you?"

"Fifty two-gallon tins. I expect some more by boat to-morrow. It'ssafely stored in a cave on the side of the creek. It is a nuisance itis raining. I do not fancy a night's work in weather like this. Himmel, what's that?"

Accidentally Vernon's foot had dislodged a small piece of stone. 

"Nerves, my dear von Ruhle, " said Ramblethorne, with his usualgood-natured smile. "A bit of masonry has fallen from the tower. See, the floor is covered with similar pieces. "

"If anyone should be up there----" suggested von Ruhle, pointing to thetop of the tower. 

The lads could feel their hearts thumping against their ribs. Througha small crack in the planking they could see the eyes of the twoGermans directed upwards. 

"Impossible; there are no steps, " declared Ramblethorne. "Besides, what object would anyone have in ascending a tower on a day like this?I fully appreciate the danger of being overheard, of course. We'vesaid enough to find ourselves faced by a firing-party in the Tower ofLondon, my friend. "

"Don't!" expostulated von Ruhle, closing his eyes as if to shut out theunpleasant mental vision. Then: "You have the signalling apparatus, Ihope?"

"Trust me for that, von Ruhle, " replied his companion, tapping hisbreast-pocket. "All we have to do is to wait until yonder lighthouseexposes its light. Really the ways of these English passunderstanding. They rigorously forbid the showing of lights in privatehouses on shore, imagining that our agents would be so foolish as tostart blinking with a lamp; yet they allow these lighthouses to work asusual, and obligingly enable us to communicate to our hearts' content. "

Von Hauptwald was not far wrong in his remarks, for the instrument hehad enabled him to flash a message to a confederate without having tobe in possession of a lamp. The flash was obtained from any distantand visible light by means of a complicated system of mirrors. Thereflected rays could then be projected in any desired direction so asto be quite invisible except on a certain bearing. It was one of thecarefully-thought-out plans adopted by the German Government to permitits spies to communicate with their submarines without running anygreat risk of detection. 

"It's two hours to sunset, " remarked the doctor; "three before wecommence operations. I would suggest that we adjourn to the cave andpartake of refreshment. You see, I have not omitted to make suitableprovision. "

"Very good!" agreed von Ruhle; "but I only wish I had a waterproof. The rain is most annoying. "

Arm-in-arm the two men left the building, and presently disappearedfrom view behind a slight rise in the ground. 

"I say!" exclaimed Ross; "we've tumbled on something this time. FancyRamblethorne a rotten German spy. I always thought he was a rattlinggood chap. "

"Evidently he isn't, " rejoined Vernon. "But the point is: what do youpropose to do? It's beastly wet here. "

"It is, now I come to think of it, " agreed his chum. "The fact is, that until you mentioned it I was hardly aware that it was raining. We'll discuss this knotty point. "

"I vote we make tracks for the boat, " suggested Haye. "The tide mustbe rising by this time. We can then slip off and raise the alarm. "

Ross shook his head. 

"No go, " he decided. "We might get nabbed ourselves. Besides, whowould be able to lay these chaps by the heels? There's only thatmotor-boat chap at Penydwick Cove, and he's precious little use. Thereare no soldiers nearer than at St. Bedal. I propose we hang on here. There's a snug, sheltered hole in these ruins, just big enough for usto lie hidden. Then we stand a good chance of hearing more of theconversation between those beggars. "

"Three hours more, remember. "

"Yes, I know. In the meanwhile we might slip down to Main Beach Cove. There's plenty of cover amongst the rocks. "

"What for?" asked Vernon. 

"To see what these fellows are up to. I'm rather anxious to renew myslight acquaintance with friend Copperstick. By Jove, what a cute moveto get contraband metal into Germany!"

"Not much at a time. It shows how hard up the Germans must be forcopper when it pays a fellow to carry over about half a hundredweightat a time. "

"Well, let's get a move on, " said Ross. "Be careful how you descend. The ivy will be fairly slippery with the wet. "

Cautiously the two lads descended, reaching the ground without mishap. 

"Our sweaters!" exclaimed Vernon. 

"Dash it all! Yes, " agreed his companion. "I had forgotten all aboutthem. "

The sweaters, carefully rolled up, had been placed for security in onecorner of the chapel. Unless anyone actually came close to the spot, they were hidden from sight. 

"Neither of those fellows stood about here, I think, " remarked Ross asthe chums retrieved and donned the additional clothing. "It's jollylucky, or they would have smelt a rat. "

Trefusis and his companion went out into the rain, walking rapidlytowards a slight mound capped by a few irregularly shaped stones. Itwas behind this rise of ground that the two spies had gone. Up to thispoint, Ross argued, there was little need for caution; beyond, it wouldbe necessary to keep well under cover until they reached Main Beach. 

"'Ware the skyline, " cautioned Ross as the chums approached the hillock. 

"Ay; 'ware the skyline, " said a deep voice mockingly, "It's badstrategy. "

Turning, the lads made the disconcerting discovery that Ramblethorneand von Ruhle were within five yards of their would-be trackers. 

Ross realized that he and his chum had been badly outmanoeuvred. Evidently the Germans suspected that they had been overheard, andostentatiously leaving the ruins for Main Beach Cove, they had made adetour from the hillock, and had waited until Ross and Vernon hademerged from the chapel. Then, taking advantage of the wet grass thateffectually deadened the sound of their footsteps, they had turned thetables on their shadowers. 

So completely taken aback were the two lads that they stood stock-stillas if rooted to the earth. 

"Not a nice evening to be out, Trefusis, " continued the doctor. "Whatbrings you on St. Mena's Island at this late hour of the day?"

"Our boat was left high and dry by the tide, so we had to wait and takeshelter, " replied Ross. 

"And so you chose a place where there was no shelter, " remarkedRamblethorne. "Idiotic thing to do--very idiotic. Now tell me: whatwere you doing on the top of the tower?"

Ross did not hesitate in his reply. Perhaps it would have been betterhad he done so, for he had never betrayed his knowledge of German tothe doctor on any of their previous meetings, and it would have beenjudicious to keep up the deception. 

"What were we doing? Listening to your precious schemes, " he retortedboldly. "Now we know all about you, and it will be our duty to reportyou as spies to the authorities. We are expecting a search-party fromKilligwent Hall at any moment, you see. "

"So that's the line of defence you propose to adopt, eh?" sneeredRamblethorne. "Well, look out!"

With a sudden spring the athletic man flung himself upon Ross, whilevon Ruhle with equal promptitude made a rush to secure Vernon. 

Strong and active though he was, Ross was no match for his huge andpowerful antagonist. Knowing that flight was impossible, the ladfeinted, and aimed a blow with his left straight for the doctor's chin. This Ramblethorne parried easily, and grasping the lad's wrist, held itas in a vice, and in such a manner that rendered fruitless any attempton Trefusis' part to make use of his right arm. 

Having thus secured his opponent, Ramblethorne watched the result ofthe encounter between his fellow-spy and young Haye. 

Von Ruhle had opened the attack by brandishing his heavy stick, andcalling upon Vernon to surrender. 

Haye returned the compliment by closing, and dealing the German such aterrific blow upon the chest that von Ruhle recoiled quite a couple ofyards. The lad's onslaught had only missed the German's solar plexusby a few inches; had it not, the chances were that von Ruhle would havelost all interest in life for the next quarter of an hour. 

But instead of following up his initial success Vernon, seeing Rosshelpless in the doctor's grip, rushed to his chum's aid. For a fewseconds he feinted, striving to find an opening, while Ramblethorne, dragging his captive with him, pivoted in order to keep his fronttowards his new antagonist. 

Those few seconds were Vernon's undoing. 

Quickly recovering himself, von Ruhle sprang forward with the agilityof a panther. The imitation Malacca cane descended with a dull thudupon the lad's head, and like a felled ox Vernon fell inertly upon thesodden grass. 

"Hold him--so, " exclaimed Ramblethorne, handing Ross over to thecustody of von Ruhle. Then drawing a small hypodermic syringe from acase, the former inserted the needle into the lad's forearm. 

Five seconds later Ross Trefusis lay unconscious beside his companionin misfortune. 

CHAPTER III

Kidnapped

"I thought you had killed him, von Ruhle, " said the doctor, bendingover Vernon and making a cursory examination of the unconscious lad. 

"I thought I had, " was the unconcerned reply. "Dead men tell no tales. "

"There I beg to differ, " protested Ramblethorne. "Corpses have a nastyway of turning up at inopportune moments. These youngsters are worthmore to us alive than dead. "

"How so?"

"One is a son of Admiral Trefusis; his companion is, I believe, also ason of a distinguished English naval officer. "

"Well, and what of it?" asked von Ruhle. 

"Hostages, " replied the doctor briefly. "Later I will explain. Meanwhile we'll carry them to the cave. It's farther than back to theruins; but perhaps, as young Trefusis said, there may be asearch-party, and the ruins would be one of the first objects ofinvestigation. "

Although, with the exception of periodical visits abroad, Dr. Ramblethorne had lived in England all his life and was a fullyqualified medical man, he was a highly trusted and talented agent ofthe German Secret Service. Months before the outbreak of war, he hadbeen ordered to report upon the defences of Devonport, and in order todo this he had bought a practice on the outskirts of Plymouth. Uponthe commencement of hostilities, he was detailed to keep underobservation the military preparations of the Duchy of Cornwall, andalso to take necessary steps for communicating with German submarinesthat, under von Tirpitz's prearranged scheme, were to operate in theBristol Channel. Von Ruhle was one of the few subordinates he actuallyknew. There were others with whom he communicated only through anintermediary, and who knew him only by a number. 

Von Ruhle was almost as mentally clever as his superior. Ostentatiously he was an Englishman. Sometimes he posed as a miningengineer; at others as a commercial traveller; as an accreditedrepresentative of the British Red Cross Society he was in the habit ofmaking frequent journeys to Holland, presumably in connection with workat Groningen Internment Camp. At the present time, his activities werecentred upon the formation of a secret petrol depot for the supply offuel to unterseebooten operating in the Bristol Channel and off thesouth coast of Ireland. 

A couple of slight incidents had served to put the cautiousRamblethorne on his guard during his interview with von Ruhle in theruined chapel. 

Although he verbally deprecated his subordinate's alarm when the ladsaccidentally dislodged a stone from the tower, it was merely to disarmpossible eavesdroppers of any suspicion that their presence wassuspected. 

The ability to control his feelings was one of the super-spy's chiefassets. Suspicion once aroused, he proceeded without the faintest signto investigate his surroundings. His keen eye soon lighted upon thelads' sweaters. Then it was that an adjournment was suggested to MainBeach Cove. 

This was simply and solely a "blind", for on gaining the cover of theboulder-strewn hillock the doctor communicated his suspicions to hiscompanion. The pair then crouched behind the rocks, whence they wereable to command a view of the tower. 

It was not long before their enterprise met with success. They sawTrefusis and his chum cautiously descend by means of the ivy; then, directly the lads set out upon their ill-starred tracking expedition, the Germans, as before related, succeeded in outflanking them andeffecting their capture. 

"Time!" announced Ramblethorne, consulting his watch. 

"Are these safe?" asked von Ruhle, stirring Vernon's unconscious formwith his foot. 

"Quite; though, perhaps, to make sure I will give this youngster aslight injection. Pity you hadn't held him with the double arm-lockinstead of cracking him over the head. Herr Kapitan Schwalbe won'twant to be troubled with a passenger with a swollen head. "

Leaving their senseless victims in the cave, the two Germans againascended the hill to St. Mena's Chapel. As they breasted the summit, they could see the fixed white light of Black Bull Head showingmomentarily brighter and brighter against the rapidly failing daylight. 

Setting a prismatic compass in position upon the sill of one of theglazeless windows, Ramblethorne took a careful bearing in a seawarddirection. This done, he pointed the projector of the signallingapparatus in precisely the same direction, and threw a waterproofedcloth over the instrument. 

"Too early yet, von Ruhle, " he remarked. "Nevertheless it is advisableto fix our bearings while twilight lasts. A light might spelldisaster. "

"A deucedly unpleasant night for such a task, " grumbled von Ruhle. 

"On the contrary, it is just the very thing, " replied the doctor. "Itis not thick enough to be dangerous, but the rain is just sufficient toassist in the screening of U75. Do not think of your personal comfort, my dear von Ruhle, when urgent work for the Fatherland has to beundertaken. "

For another half-hour the two men paced the grass-grown stones. Theirchoice of St. Mena's Island as a secret signalling station was anexcellent one. It was isolated, and, being slightly greater inelevation than the cliffs of the mainland in the immediate vicinity, would effectually screen any ray of light sent landwards from theexpected German submarine. Thus all danger of the narrow gleam ofreflected light being detected by the none too smart members of thecoast patrol was entirely obviated. 

"Time!" exclaimed the doctor, consulting the luminous face of his watch. 

Dexterously, and without disturbing the position of the instrument, vonRuhle whipped off the covering. Although there were no visible signsthat anything was taking place, both men knew that a beam of light, reflected from the distant lighthouse on Black Bull Head, was beingdirected seawards. 

In silence the two men peered through the driving rain, von Ruhlemaking use of a pair of powerful night-glasses. 

Suddenly, after an interval of almost five minutes, a faint pin-prickof light flickered from the surface of the sea. 

Instantly Ramblethorne stepped a dozen paces to the right. 

"I can see nothing from here, " he announced in a low voice. "Can you?"

"Yes, " replied his companion. 

"Good: that's friend Schwalbe. "

The doctor was right. From the deck of the unterseeboot a signallingapparatus similar to that employed by the spies was in use. By aningenious automatic arrangement it projected a beam of light, derivedfrom the same sources as that on St. Mena's Island, rigidly in a fixeddirection, regardless of the "lift" of the submarine under the actionof the waves. 

For several minutes a rapid exchange of signals was maintained; thenthe two spies, folding up their apparatus, walked rapidly towards MainBeach Cove. 

They had not long to wait before the faint sound of oars was borne totheir ears. 

"Himmel! They have arrived already, " exclaimed von Ruhle. 

"So it appears, " replied Ramblethorne dryly. "I pride myself that Ihave exceptionally good eyesight, but I fail to see her. The neutralcolour of the submarine is indeed excellent for night work. "

They descended the sandy and shingly beach until further progress wasbarred by the lapping wavelets of the rising tide. 

Through the mirk loomed up the outlines of a canvas collapsible boatcrowded with men. At two lengths from the shore the rowers laid ontheir oars. One of the men gave vent to a low whistle resembling thecall of a curlew. 

"All clear, " replied Ramblethorne. 

The boat's keel rasped on the shingle. A cloaked figure in thestern-sheets made his way for'ard and leapt ashore. 

"Herr von Hauptwald?" he asked. 

"The same, " replied the doctor. "And Kapitan Schwalbe?"

"The captain is still on board, " replied the officer. "It is hard toresist the opportunity of getting ashore after being cooped up therefor more than a fortnight. But the petrol?"

"We have not so much as we hoped to obtain, " replied von Ruhle. 

The Leutnant muttered an oath. 

"And how is business?" asked Ramblethorne, with a view of distractingthe officer's thoughts from the shortage of fuel. 

The Leutnant muttered another oath. 

"Bad!" he replied savagely. "Only one wretched little tramp steamer, which we fell in with about twenty miles from the Stacks. She gave usa run for our money, but we had her at last. Even then she tried toram us. One has to be most cautious also. These accursed English havebeen far too active with their new-fangled contrivances. We called upU71 early this morning. She replied. Again at noon we called her, butthere was no reply. U70 we have lost all touch with since Monday, yetshe was under orders to assist in the blockade of the Bristol Channeluntil we, as senior unterseeboot, gave instructions to return toWilhelmshaven. "

"Lost, I suppose, " remarked Ramblethorne. 

The Leutnant had walked to a distance of nearly ten yards from his men, who were drawn up in military order awaiting their officer's commands. 

He lowered his voice. 

"Although I am sorry to say it, " he declared, "I am afraid she has gonetoo. Our losses are not only serious--they are appalling. Submarinework is now a continual nightmare. We do our duty, but before long, ifwe are sufficiently fortunate to escape the toils that these Englishcast about us, we shall all be physical wrecks. "

The man's agitation increased as he spoke. Obviously he was labouringunder a severe strain. 

"And this petrol?" he asked anxiously. "What quantity?"

Ramblethorne told him. 

"Not enough, " declared the Leutnant. "Himmel, it is not enough to getus round Cape Wrath. On board we have only sufficient for six hours'surface running, while our batteries are not far short of running down. You had better see the captain and explain. "

Leaving von Ruhle to direct the seamen to the secret petrol store inthe cave, Ramblethorne accompanied the Leutnant to the submarine. 

The U75 was one of the latest type of Germany's submarines. Over threehundred feet in length, there was little about her in common with theaccepted idea of under-water craft. Her deck ran in one continuoussweep for almost her entire length, and rose nearly six feet above thesurface. The visible part of her sides was perpendicular, the bulgingsections being entirely beneath the surface. Her conning-tower wassurrounded by a platform as long as the navigation-bridge of a moderndestroyer. The two periscopes were "housed", but two slender"wireless" masts gave the boat the appearance of a swift torpedo craft. 

Acknowledging a salute from a burly quartermaster, Ramblethorne gainedthe deck, and was escorted aft by the Leutnant. Pacing the taperingplatform was a broad-shouldered, fair-haired man of about thirty, although a carefully trimmed blonde beard made him look much older. 

He lacked the natural elastic stride of the British naval officer. Hismovements resembled those of a thoroughly drilled soldier, yet ever andanon he would glance furtively in the direction of the open sea as ifin constant dread of sudden and unknown peril. 

"Greetings, Herr von Hauptwald!" he exclaimed, when the Leutnant hadformally introduced his visitor. "You are well known to me by repute, but I doubt whether we have met before. "

"I fancy so, " rejoined the doctor. "Do you not remember that littleaffair in the Strauer Platz? Ah, I thought you would! But to come tothe point. We have been unable to obtain the requisite quantity ofpetrol. "

"Somehow I thought it, " replied Kapitan Schwalbe. "How much have you?"

Ramblethorne told him. 

"Enough, with what we have left on board, for only eight hundred milesrun. It will not take us home, and we are under orders not to leavethese waters before Friday next. We have been let down badly. "

"I know that it is useless to express regrets, " said Ramblethorneboldly. "I can only hope that other means of supplying the requisitefuel will be forthcoming. But here is another matter. We have had tosecure two English lads, both sons of distinguished naval officers. Unfortunately they overheard a conversation between von Ruhle andmyself. In the interests of the Secret Service it is absolutelynecessary that they are kept out of the way for at least a couple ofmonths. I am averse to doing them personal injury. "

"Then what do you wish?" asked Kapitan Schwalbe. 

"Take them on board with you. If possible, land them at a German port. If this be possible, you will realize that we have a strong tool towork with. "

"I fail to understand, " said the Kapitan of U75. 

"They could be made good use of as hostages, " resumed Ramblethorne. "If these English persist in talking about reprisals, we can hintthat--well, it is unnecessary to go into details. "

"I see, " remarked Kapitan Schwalbe. "But if it is impossible to landthem?"

"Then you must put them on board the first outward-bound tramp steameryou fall in with--provided she is bound for South American ports, oranywhere that will mean a long voyage. "

"Very well, " assented the submarine officer. "I quite understand youranxiety to get them out of the way. "

"Temporarily, mind, " added Ramblethorne. 

"Precisely. Herr Rix, " he exclaimed, addressing the Leutnant. "Takefour men and go ashore. Von Ruhle will tell you where these Englishboys are; have them brought on board. "

"One moment, " interrupted Ramblethorne. "They came to the island in aboat. There is nothing unusual in that, I admit, but the fact remainsthat the boat is still lying in the cove next to this. You might orderthe men to set the boat adrift. "

"Water-logged, and with sails set and the main-sheet made fast. Another deplorable accident. Ach! It shall be so. "

Half an hour later Ross Trefusis and Vernon Haye, still unconsciousunder the action of the anaesthetic injection, were brought on boardU75 and passed below. Their boat, lying on its beam-ends, was driftingslowly in the direction of Black Bull Head. Ramblethorne and vonRuhle, their work for the present done, were already on the way to themainland. 

Meanwhile, alarmed at the non-appearance of the young heir toKilligwent Hall and his guest, a party had set off to search St. Mena'sIsland. 

Just as the boat's keel grounded on the beach of Half Tide Cove, theGerman submarine slipped quietly through the blurr of misty rain, andunder cover of darkness headed towards the mouth of Bristol Channel. 

CHAPTER IV

The Awakening

"Dash it all! What am I doing here?" muttered Ross Trevor drowsily, ashe opened his eyes. 

For the moment he quite imagined that he was in his dormitory atschool, and that by an oversight the rest of his chums had left him inbed. The suggestion was strengthened by the sound of gurgling water, as if the bathroom tap were running. Then he became aware thateverything was pitching up and down. Once before he had experienced asimilar sensation--when he had had a violent headache following aslight touch of sunstroke. 

It puzzled him, too, that he was almost in darkness. Somewherewithout, and partly screened by some projection, an electric light wasburning. The reflected rays were just sufficient to enable him to takestock of his surroundings. 

No, he was not back in the school dormitory. True, he had a headache, but that would not account for the actual motion. He fumbled, hisfingers came in contact with a curved board that served to prevent theoccupant of the bed--or, rather, bunk--from falling on the floor. 

Almost mechanically he rolled out, and stood supporting himself bygrasping the ledge of the bunk. The swaying, due partly to dizzinessand partly to an unaccountable see-saw motion, would have thrown him tothe floor but for the assistance afforded by the side of the bunk. 

Gradually he became aware that there was a similar sleeping-placeimmediately beneath the one he had been occupying. Someone was lyingthere, breathing heavily. There was sufficient light for Ross torecognize him. It was his chum Vernon. 

Just then a bell clanged noisily. The sound of running water wasoutvoiced by the loud din of machinery in motion. A wave of hot airthat reminded the lad of the atmosphere of a Tube station wafted pasthim. The whole fabric trembled under the powerful pulsations of themechanism. 

With his legs trembling through sheer physical weakness, Ross hung ongrimly. He wanted to shout, but no sound came from his parched tongue. He was bewildered. It seemed as if he were in the throes of a terriblenightmare, and that he would awake on finding himself falling into abottomless abyss. 

The reflected light was obscured as a broad-shouldered man made his wayalong the narrow corridor in which the bunks were placed. As he did sohe caught sight of the lad. Without a word he seized Ross in his arms, not roughly, but nevertheless unceremoniously, and lifted him back intothe bunk. There was something so peremptory in the action that Rosslay still and closed his eyes. All his will power seemed to havedeserted him. 

"Make a dash for it, old man!" exclaimed a muffled voice that Trefusishardly recognized as his chum's. "Make a dash for it. Don't let themcollar us. "

It was Vernon rambling in his sleep. The words were sufficient to giveRoss a key to the hitherto baffling problem. 

Like a flash he recalled the episode of their adventure on St. Mena'sIsland. He remembered himself being held in the grasp of the powerfulRamblethorne until unconsciousness overcame him. He was still aprisoner, but with the qualifying knowledge that he was not alone. Vernon Haye was sharing his captivity, wherever it might be. 

"We're afloat then, " he muttered. "What has happened?"

Moistening his lips, Ross leant over the side of the bunk and calledhis chum by name. His voice sounded strangely unfamiliar. He couldonly just hear himself above the clamorous noise of the engines. 

It was not long before another man appeared at the end of the corridor. As he did so he switched on a lamp almost above the lad's head. For afew seconds Ross was temporarily blinded by the sudden transition fromartificial twilight to the intense brilliancy of electric light. 

"So! You are now awake, hein?" asked a guttural voice. "How you vosfeel?"

"Rotten!" replied Ross emphatically. His reply was brief and to thepoint. It summed up his sensations during the last ten minutes. 

The man laughed. 

"So you look. You better soon will be. You know where you now vos?"

"On board a ship, " answered the lad. He was still hoping against hopethat his questioner was anything but a German. There was a smallchance that he had by some means been picked up at sea by a Dutch or aSwedish vessel. 

The man's announcement "put the lid on" that possibility. 

"Sheep--goot!" he chuckled. "German unterseeboot--vot you vos callsubmarine. No danger to you boys if you yourselves behave. Much tosee--ach! plenty much. "

The lad's eyes had now become more accustomed to the light. He couldsee that his visitor was a broad-shouldered, muscular man of averageheight, florid-featured, and with light-yellow hair and a fairmoustache. He was dressed in a uniform that was apparently a bad copyof that worn by executive officers of the British Navy. On the breastof his coat he wore an Iron Cross. 

"Me Hermann Rix, Ober-leutnant of unterseeboot, " he announced. "DerKapitan send me to see how you get better. Goot! I tell seaman tobring food quick. In one hour you go on deck. Den you feel all well. "

The German Leutnant bent and peered into the lower cot. 

"Fat head, " he remarked seriously. "Bad knock, but he get well soon. "

With that the officer went away, leaving the light switched on. 

Scrambling out of his bunk, Ross approached his chum. Vernon was nowsleeping quietly. His face, however, was flushed, while it was quiteevident that he had received a fairly heavy blow across the skull, forthe top of his head was swollen to a considerable extent. 

Before Ross had finished his examination a sailor entered, bearing atray on which were three slices of rye bread, some tinned beef, and abottle of Rhenish wine. 

"Sprechen Sie deutsch?" he asked. 

For an instant Trefusis hesitated before replying. To professignorance of the German language would be an immense advantage while onboard the submarine, provided he could control his facial expressionsand listen without betraying himself. Then, on the other hand, hereflected that Ramblethorne, the spy, might have been instrumental ingetting him into this predicament. More than likely the Captain of thesubmarine had been informed of the fact that his unconscious passengerswere well acquainted with the tongue-twisting language of theFatherland. 

"Here is food for you, " said the man, placing the tray on the floor. "You had better take hold of the bottle before it upsets. We arerolling a bit. When your friend open his eyes, call me. I am inyonder compartment. It would be well for you to dress. I will bringyour clothes to you very soon. "

Ross made a sorry meal. The food was not at all appetizing. Histhroat was in no condition to enable him to swallow easily. A feelingof nausea, due either to the motion, the hot, confined air, or theafter effects of the stupefying injection--perhaps a little of allthree--was still present. 

He was actually on board a German submarine--one of Tirpitz'stwentieth-century pirates. He racked his brains to find a reason. With its limited accommodation an unterseeboot seemed the last type ofcraft that would receive a pair of prisoners--andnon-combatants--within its steel-clad hull. It must have been atRamblethorne's instigation; yet why had not the spy knocked the pair ofluckless eavesdroppers over the head and tumbled them into the sea? Itseemed by far the easiest solution; yet, in spite of that, Ross andVernon were being carried to an unknown destination in one of the"mystery-craft" of the Imperial German Navy. 

The reappearance of the seaman bearing Ross's clothes cut short thelatter's unsolved meditations. Without a word the man laid the neatlyfolded garments on the bunk--a pair of flannel trousers, cricket shirt, underclothes, and the sweater that had been the cause of the lads'undoing; but in place of his shoes a pair of half-boots, reeking withtallow, had been provided. 

Ross proceeded to dress. As he did so a voice that he hardlyrecognized asked:

"Hulloa, Trefusis, where are we?"

It was Haye. His companion was now awake, but hardly conscious of hissurroundings. 

"Better?" asked Ross laconically. He could not at that moment bringhimself to answer the question. 

"Didn't know that I was ill, " remonstrated Vernon. Then, after a vainattempt to raise his head--perhaps fortunately, since the bottom ofRoss's cot was within a few inches of his face--he added:

"Dash it all! I remember. That beastly German gave me a crack overthe head with his copper walking-stick. Where are we?"

"In a rotten hole, old man. We're in a German submarine, boundgoodness knows where. "

"Where are my clothes?" asked Haye, this time successfully getting outof his bunk. "Since you have yours, there seems to be no reason why Ishouldn't have mine. Hang it! What's the matter with me?Everything's spinning round like a top. "

Mindful of the seaman's words, and with a docility that would havesurprised him in different circumstances, Ross staggered along thecorridor. The passage was about thirty feet in length. On one sidethe metal wall was flat, on the other it had a pronounced curve. Against it were six bunks arranged in pairs. Four were used asstowing-places for baggage, the remaining ones had been given up to thetwo prisoners. The roof was almost hidden by numerous pipes, most ofthem running fore and aft, while a few branched off through the walls. The flat bulkhead evidently formed one of the walls of the engine-room, for, as the lad placed his hand against it to steady himself, he couldfeel a distinct tremor, quite different from the vibration under hisfeet. The floor was of steel, with a raised chequer pattern in orderto give a better grip to one's feet. At frequent intervals there werecircular places, similar to those covering the coal-shoots in thepavement of residential thoroughfares. Walls, ceiling, and floor werecovered with beads of moisture, but whether from condensation orleakage Ross could not decide. 

At the end of the corridor or alley-way was a steel water-tight door, running in gun-metal grooves packed with india-rubber. The door wasclosed. 

Seizing the lever that served as a handle, Trefusis tried to turn it, but without success. Failing that, he kicked the steelwork with hisheavy half-boots, yet no response came to his appeal. 

"The fellow told me to call, " he muttered airily. "What did he want toplay the fool for?"

Retracing his steps, Ross went to the other end of the alley-way. There was barely room to pass his companion as he did so. The placefrom which he had previously seen the reflected light was now shut offby a door similarly constructed to the one that he had vainly attemptedto open. He was locked in a steel tomb that was itself a metal boxwithin a metal box--a water-tight compartment of the submarine. 

"They might just as well have switched off the light while they wereabout it, " he exclaimed bitterly; then at the next instant he wildlyregretted his words. The idea of being imprisoned in that cheerlesscompartment without a light of any description appalled him. 

Almost frantically he returned to the door that had previously baffledhim. As he did so he became aware that the submarine was tiltinglongitudinally. Since he was unaware of the direction of the craft, and which was the bow or stern, he was unable to judge whether theunterseeboot was diving, or ascending to the surface. 

The incline became so great that he had to grasp the door-lever forsupport. Turning his head, he saw that Vernon was hanging on grimly tothe partition between the tiers of bunks. 

Then, as the vessel regained an even keel, silently and smoothly thedoor slid back in its grooves, revealing a small space barely six feetin length and five in breadth, and separated from the rest of thevessel by a closed water-tight panel. Part of the compartment wasoccupied by a bend, at which the seaman to whom he had previouslyspoken was busily engaged in mending a rent in an oilskin coat. 

"My friend is now awake, " announced Ross. 

The man laid aside his work. 

"Good!" he replied. "He is just in time. I will bring him his foodand his clothes. After that you will both go on deck for fresh airbefore you are interviewed by Herr Kapitan Schwalbe. See that door?Beyond that you must not pass without permission. It is forbidden. Ifyou do so, you will not have another opportunity in a hurry. "

"What are they going to do with us?" asked Ross. 

The sailor shook his head. 

"It is forbidden to ask questions, " he said sternly. "Whatever isnecessary that you should know will be told you. "

He turned his back upon his questioner, signifying in a plain mannerthat it was useless for Trefusis to say more. Taking the hint the ladreturned to his chum, wondering deeply at the fate that had thrown theminto the hands of the enemy. 

CHAPTER V

Aboard U75

Like Ross, Vernon Haye made a poor meal. He had barely finished when apetty officer appeared and curtly ordered the lads to follow him. Since he did so in German it was fairly certain that Trefusis'admission had been communicated to both officers and crew. 

Staggering, they passed along the alley-way into a broad subdivisionthat extended completely athwartships. It was one of the two broadsidetorpedo-rooms, and contained two tubes of slightly greater diameterthan the British 21-inch. In "launching-trays" by the side of thetubes were eight torpedoes with their deadly war-heads attached. Bothtransverse bulkheads were almost hidden by indicators, voice-tubes, andpipes for transmitting the compressed air from the air-flasks to thetorpedo-tubes. 

Passing through another water-tight door the prisoners found themselvesin yet another compartment. On one side was an "air-lock", with itscomplement of life-saving helmets; on the other was an oval-shaped doorforming means of communication with the small room built against thecurved sides of the submarine. Ross guessed, and rightly as itafterwards transpired, that the door led into a space that could beflooded at will, and which in turn enabled a diver to operate from theU-boat while submerged. 

Confronting the lads was an almost perpendicular steel laddercommunicating with the conning-tower. Their guide was about to ascendwhen a stern voice exclaimed in German:

"Not that, you idiotic clodhopper! Have you lost your reason? Theforward hatchway, don't you know?"

"Pardon, Herr Leutnant, " said the petty officer, abjectly apologetic, and, backing down the ladder, he passed through another door enteringinto an alley-way between the officers' cabins. Here was the bowl of asupplementary periscope, so that a vision of what was taking placecould be obtained without going into the conning-tower. 

The alley-way terminated at another broadside torpedo-room, the pairsof tubes pointing in the opposite direction to those the lads had justseen. 

Beyond were the living-quarters of the crew, kept spotlessly clean andtidy, yet Spartan-like in their simplicity. Two of the men were soundasleep in their bunks. Three more, who were playing cards at a plaindeal table, glanced up from their game as the British lads passed by;but their interest was of brief duration, and stolidly they resumedtheir play. 

Stooping down to avoid a large metal trough--the "house" for thefor'ard 105-millimetre disappearing gun--Ross and his chum arrived atthe ladder by which they were to gain the open air. 

The hatch-cover was thrown back. For the first time during theircaptivity they made the discovery that it was night. Looking upwards, they could see a rectangle of dark sky twinkling with stars that, withthe slight motion of the submarine, appeared to sway to and fro. 

The cool night breeze fanned their heated foreheads as they gained thedeck. For some time, coming suddenly from the glare of theelectrically lighted interior, their eyes were blinded. They could seenothing but an indistinct blurr of star-lit, gently heaving water. 

Gradually the sense of vision returned. They found themselves on thefore-deck of the unterseeboot. They had made up their minds to see aturtle-back deck with a narrow level platform in the centre; insteadthey found that the deck was almost flat and, in nautical parlance, flush, save where it was broken by the elongated conning-tower toppedby the twin periscopes and slender wireless mast. 

Lying on the deck in all conceivable attitudes were most of theU-boat's crew, taking advantage of a brief spell on the surface tobreathe deeply of the ozone-laden atmosphere. 

Not a light was visible on board. Even the hatchway by which the ladshad gained the deck was constructed to trap any stray beam from thebrilliant glare below. 

Miles away, and low down upon the horizon, a white light blinkedsolemnly; then after a brief interval it was succeeded by a red gleam. This in turn was followed by white again. 

Trefusis, with a sailor's inborn instinct, began to count theintervals. Although having no means of consulting the onlytime-recording watch in the possession of the two captives, he had afair idea of counting seconds. At fourteen from the disappearance ofthe red light the white appeared. An almost identical space of timeoccurred before the red reappeared. 

"It's the Wolf Light, " mentally ejaculated the lad. 

His next step was to fix the bearing of the lighthouse. This he did bylooking for the Great Bear, and then, following the Pointers, the NorthStar. 

"Phew!" he muttered softly. "Nor'-nor'-west. This brute of asubmarine is right in the chops of the Channel--the main highway forvessels making for London and the south coast ports. "

"What's that?" asked Vernon, who heard his chum speaking, but hadfailed to grasp the significance of his words. 

"Nothing, " replied Ross almost in a whisper. "I'll tell you later. "

The cool air had revived both lads wonderfully. They had been left totheir own devices, for the petty officer had gone aft. Those of thecrew who were on deck seemed as apathetic as the men below concerningthe presence of the kidnapped youths. They looked like men utterlyworn out by fatigue and nervous strain. 

Grasping the flexible wire hand-rail Ross continued his survey of thehorizon, all of which was visible except a small portion obscured bythe rise of the conning-tower. The air was remarkably clear. Takinginto consideration the refraction of the atmosphere, the navigationlamps of a vessel shown at twenty feet above the sea would be visiblefrom the low-lying deck of the submarine at a distance of six to sevenmiles. 

But there were no signs of any vessels in the vicinity. The Germansubmarine rolled lazily in complete isolation, waiting, like a snake inthe grass, for its prey. 

"Herr Kapitan would see you, " exclaimed the guttural voice of the pettyofficer. "Come aft. Remember, when you are addressed, to remove yourcaps. "

The man led the way, making no attempt to avoid the recumbent limbs andbodies of the crew who impeded his passage. Treading with discretionRoss and Vernon followed till, after skirting the base of theconning-tower, they found themselves in the presence ofLieutenant-Commander Schwalbe, the Kapitan of U75. 

Schwalbe was sitting in a small arm-chair which had been brought fromhis cabin. He was smoking a cigar. At his elbow stood his satellite, Hermann Rix, who was also smoking. This luxury was denied the crew, the officers being permitted to smoke only when the submarine wasrunning awash or resting on the surface. 

[Illustration: THE INTERVIEW WITH THE GERMAN CAPTAIN (missing frombook)]

"So you have recovered from your little involuntary rest, " exclaimedSchwalbe in excellent English. He was a remarkably good linguist, forprevious to the outbreak of the war he had been the skipper of aNorth-German-Lloyd boat. By sheer good luck he had reached a home portthe day after the momentous declaration of hostilities, having narrowlyescaped capture by a British destroyer. 

Owing to the great expansion of the German submarine service, and itsequally rapid reduction at the hands of the British Navy, the supply ofspecially trained officers of the Imperial Navy for this branch had runout. More had been transferred from the pent-up High Seas Fleet, whileothers had been absorbed from the now useless German Mercantile Marine, and hastily put through a course of instruction. Schwalbe was one ofthese, and after less than two months' hazardous work in the capacityof Unter-leutnant found himself in command of U75, one of the "lastwords" of von Tirpitz's piratical fleet. 

Neither Ross nor Vernon replied. They could form no suitable answer. It was no doubt very considerate on the part of the Kapitan to enquireafter their healths, but somehow the lads felt that the skipper of U75was responsible for their presence on board. 

"Come, come, " continued Schwalbe. "Don't be sulky. "

"We are not, " expostulated Ross. 

"I'm glad to hear it, " rejoined the Kapitan, with a grin that had theeffect of letting his cigar fall to the deck. He stooped to retrieveit, but, suddenly remembering that it was beneath his dignity, changedhis mind and kicked the glowing stump on one side. Having takenanother from a gun-metal case, he lit it with a device that merelysmouldered instead of giving a bright light. 

"It is as well we understand each other, " he continued. "Do you knowwhy you are on board U75?"

"No, sir, " replied Ross. 

"Neither do I, " rejoined Schwalbe with astonishing candour. "I wish Ihad not been honoured with your company. "

"The remedy is in your hands then, sir, " said Trefusis. "You can landus the next time you put in at St. Mena's Island for petrol, or elseput us on board the first fishing craft we fall in with. "

"I beg to differ, " was the rejoinder. "Unfortunately you are on board, and you must make the best of it, I understand from my friend--shall Isay Dr. Ramblethorne--that you are both very inquisitive. Inquisitiveness is a bad trait in ones so young. You see, it has gotyou into trouble. The doctor has strong reasons for getting me to takecare of you for some considerable time, so you will have an opportunityof seeing how we Germans make war. No half-measures, mark you. It isuseless to make war with a velvet glove. You English people call uspirates, I believe?"

"It certainly looks like piracy when German submarines sink harmlessmerchantmen without warning, " declared Vernon. 

"For my part I have never sent a merchant vessel to the bottom withoutwarning, " said Schwalbe. "As a seaman I regret having to sink any shipof commerce. As an officer of the German Navy I have to obey ordersunquestionably. Nevertheless I have always given the crews of Britishships a chance of escape, and have never sunk any vessel until the menare safely in the boats, unless she attempts to show fight or to runaway. "

"Would you blame a skipper for trying to save his ship?" asked Ross. 

"You do not understand, " exclaimed Schwalbe. "We are at war. Ablockade has been declared upon the British Islands. If, after fullwarning, merchantmen persist in taking the risk, it is their look-out, not mine. However, to return to a more personal matter: having beensaddled with you, I must endure your presence. You will be well fed, as far as the resources at our command will allow. You will be free togo wherever you wish on board, with the exception of the conning-tower, motor- and torpedo-rooms. I am not ungrateful, for my brother, who hadthe misfortune to be in the _Ariadne_, was captured by your fleet. Heis being well treated somewhere in England. Hence I give privileges tothe son of Admiral Trefusis and the son of Commander Haye so long asthey are my compulsory guests. But bear in mind: you will be watched. Should you commit any fault, however slight, you will pay dearly forit. If you are foolish enough to attempt any act of treachery, deathwill be the penalty. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

"Yes, sir, " replied both lads. 

"Very well. Is there anything you would like me to do within thebounds of reason?"

"Could we communicate with our parents?" asked Ross. 

"No, " replied Schwalbe decisively. "There are strong objections. And, while I am on the subject, should you fall in with the crews ofdestroyed ships you are strictly forbidden to communicate with themeither by word or gesture. That will be a punishable offence of thesecond degree. Anything more?"

"My friend has had a nasty knock on the head, " said Trefusis. "Haveyou a doctor on board?"

Again Kapitan Schwalbe smiled broadly. 

"No, " he replied. "There is no need. Cases of illness must wait tillwe return to port. The only injuries we are likely to sustain wouldput us beyond all medical aid. But several of the men are fairlyskilled in rough surgery, so I will----"

"Vessel on the port bow, sir; she's showing no lights, " announced avoice. 

"All hands to stations!" ordered the skipper. 

"Down below with you!" hissed the petty officer, who during theinterview had stood rigidly at attention at two paces to the rear ofhis charges. 

Already the hitherto recumbent men were alert. Quickly, yet in order, they disappeared down the fore hatchway, and amongst them were Ross andVernon. 

The officers had taken their places inside the shelter of theconning-tower. Everything was battened down from within, and with agentle purr the electric motors were set in motion, while at the sametime water ballast was admitted into the trimming-tanks. 

Swift and stealthy had been their preparations, but the presence of thesubmarine was betrayed by the phosphorescent swirl of the water causedby the churning of the twin propellers as she slipped beneath thesurface. 

Twenty seconds later a swift vessel that looked suspiciously like atrawler, although her speed belied her, tore over the place where U75had disappeared. Bare inches only separated the top of the latter'sconning-tower from the massive keel plates of the craft that had allbut accomplished its mission. 

The watch-dogs of the British Navy were at work. 

CHAPTER VI

The Tramp

Like a startled hare the unterseeboot fled for shelter. Not until shereached a depth of fifteen fathoms did she check her diagonallydownward course. At intervals a dull booming, audible above the rattleof the motors, proclaimed the unpleasant fact that her antagonist wascircling around the spot marked by the phosphorescent swirl and theiridescence of escaped oil, and was firing explosive grapnels in thehope of ripping open the U-boat's hull. 

Kapitan Schwalbe, looking very grey in the artificial light, wasstanding behind the quartermaster. His hands were clenched inmomentary apprehension. Beads of perspiration stood out upon hisforehead. He was experiencing a foretaste of the torment of the lost. 

As a submarine officer of the Imperial German Navy he was a failure. Only sheer luck had hitherto saved him from the fate that had overtakenscores of his brother officers in that branch of the service. Skilledas he was in the handling of a huge liner, he lacked the iron nervethat is essential to the man who has to risk his life in a steel boxthat, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, offers no means of escapein the event of a catastrophe. 

Yet he had to do his duty, notwithstanding his utter distaste forsubmarine work. He had had no option. The officers of the BritishNavy volunteer for submarine duties; those of the German Navy aresimply told off whether they want to or not. 

The nerve-racking work was beginning to tell upon him. His orderscondemned him to a forlorn hope, for the English Channel was known tobe a death-trap for the under-sea blockaders. The sight of a trawlerfilled him with feelings akin to terror. The possibility, nayprobability, of a merchantman carrying guns made him approach hisintended prey with the utmost caution; yet, as he had remarked to RossTrefusis, he had never torpedoed any vessel flying the red ensignwithout giving her warning. 

But it was not chivalry that prompted Schwalbe to act withconsideration. Had he been untrammelled he would have sent his prey tothe bottom without compunction, for he had all the brutal instincts ofthe kultured Hun. It was a superstitious fear that held hisfrightfulness in check--a presentiment based upon the Mosaic Law, aneye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. 

Having placed a considerable distance between him and his attacker, Kapitan Schwalbe ordered the electric motors to be stopped. Theballast tanks were "blown", and cautiously U75 rose to the surface. 

It was the best course open to her. The depth of the water was muchtoo great to allow her to rest on the bed of the sea. On the otherhand, in order to keep submerged, the motors would have to be inmotion. No one knew better than Schwalbe that the British patrol-boatswould be in a position to locate with uncanny certitude the presence oftheir quarry, unless the strictest silence were maintained by thefugitive. 

So, ready to dive at the first alarm, U75 floated awash until suchtimes as were considered favourable for getting under way. Decidedlythis part of the English Channel was, for the time being at least, unhealthy; and Kapitan Schwalbe resolved to make for the BristolChannel, where the dangers of being destroyed by modern mosquitoes weremore remote. 

Meanwhile Ross and Vernon had been sent back to the quarters in thealley-way, by the side of the motor-room. Not knowing the reason forthe U-boat's sudden submergence, and consequently unaware of the dangerthat threatened her, they formed the erroneous impression that thesubmarine was about to attack. 

"The old fellow gave us a pretty straight tip, " remarked Vernon, whenthe chums found themselves alone. "All the same, I vote we get out ofit at the first opportunity, favourable or otherwise. "

"'Ssh, " whispered Ross. "Someone might be listening. I don't see howyou propose to clear out, though. "

"We were on deck just now. "

"We were, " agreed Trefusis. 

"It was fairly dark. All the men up for'ard were lying down. It wouldhave been an easy matter to have dived overboard and swum for it, if wehadn't been twenty miles or more from land. "

"There was a bright look-out kept, all the same, " objected Ross. "AndI wouldn't mind saying that if the submarine were closer inshore, getting a supply of petrol, for example, we should be closely watched. All the same, I'm with you if we get the ghost of a chance. But it's arummy affair altogether. Fancy that chap knowing our names and therank of our respective fathers. "

"Ramblethorne must have told him that, " said Vernon. 

"I suppose so; but for what reason? By Jove, if we get out of thismess all right, we'll have something to talk about--having beenprisoners on a German submarine!"

The lads were not allowed on deck again that night. Acting upon Haye'ssuggestion they "turned in", and slept fitfully until awakened by thenoise of the watch being relieved. 

The seaman, Hans Koppe, brought them their breakfast. The mealconsisted of fish, coffee, and the usual black bread. By this time thecaptives had practically recovered from the effects of the injection. Haye's head was still painful, although the headache had left him. 

They ate with avidity, owing possibly to the atmosphere of the confinedspace, which was highly charged with oxygen. 

"What is the Captain's name?" asked Ross, when the man came to removethe breakfast things. 

The sailor told him. 

"Where are we now?" enquired Vernon. 

The man winked solemnly. 

"Afloat, " he replied. "Be content with that. "

Just then there were unmistakable signs of activity on the part of thesubmarine crew. Several men hurried along the alley-way, each with aset purpose. They paid little heed to the Englanders as they passed. 

At their heels came Herr Rix, the Leutnant of the submarine. He wasbeaming affably. 

"Goot mornings!" he exclaimed. "You come mit me, den I show you how weblockade. "

He led the way to the compartment in which the bowl of thesupplementary periscope was placed. It was now broad daylight, andconsequently the bowl showed a distinct image. A junior officer wasstanding by, but on seeing Rix approach he saluted and moved aside. 

"Look!" exclaimed the Leutnant. 

Both lads peered into the bowl. On its dull sides, an expanse of seaand sky was portrayed. Beyond that they could see nothing, until Rixcalled their attention to a small dark object. 

"Englische sheep!" he declared. "Now you vos watch. "

He touched a metal stud. Instantly an arrangement of telescopic lensescame into play within the tube of the periscope, with the result that asmall portion of the view was greatly magnified upon the object card. It revealed a tramp of about nine hundred tons. She had a singlefunnel painted black, with two broad red bands; two stumpy masts, withderricks, and a lofty bridge and chart-house abaft the funnel. She waswall-sided. Her rusty hull was originally painted black. Here andthere were squares of red lead, showing that her crew had been engagedin trying to smarten her up before she reached port. Aft, frayed anddirty with the smoke that poured from her funnel, floated the redensign. 

The submarine began to rise. Although she tilted abruptly, the imageof the tramp steamer still remained upon the object bowl. By aningenious arrangement, the lenses were constructed to compensate forany deviation of the tube of the periscope from the vertical. The ladscould see the bows of the U-boat shaking clear of the water, throwingcascades of foam off on either side as the passing craft forged aheadat at least eighteen knots. 

Now, for the first time, the skipper of the tramp saw the danger. Hewas a short, thick-set man, with white hair and an iron-grey moustache, and a face the colour of mahogany. For an instant he grasped thebridge-rails and looked towards the submarine, then gesticulatedviolently to the man at the wheel. 

The spikes ran through the helmsman's hands, as he rapidly revolved thewheel actuating the steam steering-gear. The tramp swung hard to port, with the idea of baffling the momentarily expected torpedo. 

Kapitan Schwalbe acted up to his principles. In any case he was loathto use a torpedo upon a comparatively small vessel. In response to anorder, half a dozen of the submarine's crew swarmed on deck, threegoing for'ard and three aft. Within forty-five seconds the twodisappearing guns were raised from the water-tight "houses". 

Ross, Vernon, and the German Leutnant remained gazing into the bowl ofthe periscope. The vision so absorbed the attention of the two ladsthat they hardly heeded the presence of Herr Rix, who occasionallyemitted grunts of satisfaction or annoyance as the scene was enacted. 

The bow gun spat viciously. The range was but three hundred yards. The missile passed a few feet in front of the tramp's bows, and, throwing up a shower of spray that burst inboard on the Britishvessel's fo'c'sle, ricochetted a mile or so away. 

The tramp's skipper showed his mettle. Round swung the vessel, listingheavily as she did so. By this time the call for more steam had beenresponded to, and dense clouds of black smoke belched from her funnel, mingled with puffs of white vapour as the siren bleated loudly for aid. 

Running awash, U75 had a great advantage of speed; overtaking her preyshe was able to send half a dozen shells into the lofty targetpresented as she slid by. 

Holes gaped in the thin plating close to the waterline. A shell, passing completely through the funnel, demolished the siren. Beingwithout wireless, the tramp was now without means of long-distancesignalling. 

Another missile hit the chart-house and, exploding, swept the frailstructure overboard in a thousand fragments. The old skipper, hit by asplinter of wood, fell inertly upon the bridge; but the next instant hestaggered to his feet, bawling to the crew to get the hand-steeringgear connected. 

"He's down again!" exclaimed Ross breathlessly, as the brave old mandropped upon the shattered planking of the bridge. "Hurrah! He'sstill alive. "

The skipper had deliberately taken cover behind the slender shelterafforded by the metal side-light boards. By the frantic movement ofhis arm, it was evident that he was exhorting his men to "stick it"like Britons. 

The hail of shells continued. Already fire had broken out on board inseveral places. A sliver of metal sheered through the ensign staff. Without hesitation one of the crew rushed off, retrieved theweather-worn bunting, and made his way to the mainmast. 

Slowly and deliberately he re-hoisted the ensign until it flutteredproudly from the truck, then with apparent unconcern the mandisappeared below. 

By this time the tramp was again under control, with a course shapedfor land, which lay about ten miles to the S. S. E. It was, however, aforegone conclusion that unless help were speedily forthcoming thevessel was doomed. 

The tramp began to heel, almost imperceptibly at first, then withincreasing speed. She had received her _coup de grāce_. 

Still the engines were kept going full speed ahead. The dauntlessskipper remained on the bridge, with a look of grim resolution on hisweather-beaten features. 

Slowly the vessel's way diminished. Her bow-wave, owing to thegradually increasing draught, was greater, but less sharp than before. In a few minutes the water would be pouring over her fore-deck. 

Seeing that their work was completed, the pirates ceased fire, theguns' crews standing with folded arms and stolidly watching the trampas she struggled in her death-throes. 

Presently a vast cloud of steam issued from her engine-room. Theinrush of water had damped her furnaces. The engineer and firemen, their faces black with coal-dust and streaming with moisture, hurriedon deck. 

For another quarter of a mile the doomed vessel carried way, then cameto a sudden stop. As she did so she gave a quick list to starboard, until only a few inches of bulwark amidships showed above the waves. 

Then, and only then, did the skipper give orders for the boats to belowered. In an orderly manner the crew manned the falls, and the taskof abandoning the ship began. 

Without undue haste, the crew dropped into the waiting boats, each manwith a bundle containing his scanty personal effects wrapped up in ahandkerchief. The Captain was the last to leave. He did soreluctantly, his left hand tightly grasping the ship's papers. 

Having rowed a safe distance from the foundering vessel, the men restedon their oars, and waited in silence for the end. It was not long incoming. 

The tramp was heeling more and more, and slightly down by the bows. Suddenly she almost righted; then, amid a smother of foam as thecompressed air burst open her hatches, she flung her stern high in theair. 

Even then she seemed in no hurry. The after part from the mainmastremained in view, the now motionless propeller being well clear of thewater. 

For quite a minute she remained thus, then with a quick yet almostgentle movement slid under the waves. The last seen of her was theweather-worn red ensign still fluttering from the truck. 

The periscope's bowl showed nothing but an expanse of sea and sky, andthe two boats rising buoyantly to the waves. 

A grim chuckle brought Ross and Vernon back to their surroundings. Herr Rix was rubbing his hands and grunting with evident satisfaction. 

"Goot!" he ejaculated. "Now, how you like dat? Now you see how weGerman make blockade, hein?"

"A brave deed, " replied Ross scornfully, and, gripping Vernon by thearm, led him back to their uncomfortable quarters in the alley-way. 

CHAPTER VII

On the Bed of the Sea

For the next twenty-four hours nothing exciting occurred. The U-boatkept to the surface as much as possible, running under her petrolmotors at fifteen knots. To exceed that pace would mean too great aconsumption of fuel, and already the vessel was short of petrol. 

Kapitan Schwalbe was prone to act on the side of extreme caution. Having sunk one vessel, he would not tackle another in the samevicinity. He invariably put at least a hundred miles between him andthe scene of his latest ignominious exploit before attempting anotheract of kultur. 

Three times during that twenty-four hours he dived: twice on sightingwhat were unquestionably Bristol Channel pilot-boats, and on the thirdoccasion when a Penzance lugger under motor-power (for it was a deadcalm) crossed his track. 

All this time a regular stream of shipping was passing up and down theBristol Channel, as unconcernedly as in the piping days of peace. Toanyone but a bumptious German, the sight would have told its own tale;for the British Mercantile Marine, used to danger and difficulties, wasnot to be deterred by the "frightfulness" of von Tirpitz's blockade. On the contrary, the possibility of falling in with a hostile submarinegave an unwonted spice to the everyday routine of the toilers of thesea. 

After breakfast on the following morning Ross and Vernon were told togo on deck. The sea was still calm, and the submarine, now runningawash at full speed, was cleaving the water with practically dry decks. 

The lads soon realized what was in progress. A couple of miles awaywas a large ocean cargo-boat, outward bound, and U75 was in pursuit. 

Trefusis and his chum were not allowed for'ard, where the quick-firerwas already in position for opening fire. They were ordered abaft theconning-tower, the hatch of which was open. 

Kapitan Schwalbe's head and shoulders could be seen projecting abovethe opening. On the raised grating surrounding the conning-tower, stood a boyish-looking Unter-leutnant. Hermann Rix was nowhere to beseen. Apparently his duties compelled him to remain below. 

Presently the quick-firer barked, and a projectile struck the waterabout a hundred yards from the starboard side of the pursued vessel. With the discharge of the gun, a sailor hoisted the black cross ensignof Germany from a small flagstaff aft, while a signal in theInternational Code ordering the British vessel to heave to instantlyfluttered from the light mast immediately abaft the conning-tower. 

The only response from the chase was the hoisting of the red ensign, for previously she had shown no colours. Slowly, defiantly, thebunting was hauled close up, and ironically "dipped" three times. 

Again and again the submarine's bow-chaser fired. The shells were wellaimed as regards direction, but all fell short. Imperceptibly themerchantman had increased distance. 

"Look at the fools!" Ross heard the Kapitan remark, as he kept hisbinoculars focused on his intended prey. "They are trying to snapshotus. Are all Englishmen so blind to peril?"

"Are you sure they haven't a couple of quick-firers mounted aft, sir?"asked the Unter-leutnant. "There are several men gathered roundsomething on the poop. "

"Himmel, I hope not!" ejaculated Schwalbe. "But no; had they any gunsthey would have opened fire before now. What is the matter with ourgun-layer? It is about time he got a shell home. "

The Unter-leutnant lowered himself on the foredeck, and shouted angrilyat the seaman whose duty it was to "lay" the bow-chasers. The managain bent over the sights. 

This time the shell pitched ahead of the chase, but slightly to port. Some of the spray thrown up by the projectile fell on board. 

"Is that the best you can do, you brainless idiot?" shouted Schwalbewrathfully. Now that he was in pursuit he was loath to be baffled, butat the same time he realized that the submarine was using a lot ofprecious fuel and a prodigious amount of ammunition without anydefinite result. 

In the midst of his torrent of abuse directed upon the lucklessgun-layer, Kapitan Schwalbe suddenly stopped. Gripping the rim of theoval hatchway he gazed, horror-stricken, at two objects bobbing in thewater directly in the path of the submarine. Then, recovering hisvoice, he shouted to the quartermaster to port helm. 

The fellow obeyed promptly, but it was too late. Practicallysimultaneously, two barrels swung round and crashed alongside thesubmarine's hull. 

Officers and men, expecting momentarily to find themselves blown intothe air, stood stock-still. Then, as nothing so disastrous occurred, Schwalbe gave orders for easy astern. 

The barrels, connected by a span of grass rope, had been thrownoverboard from the pursued vessel, in the hope that the submarine wouldfoul her propellers in the tangle of line. Once a blade picked up thattrailing rope, the latter would coil round the boss as tightly as aband of flexible steel. 

The plan all but succeeded; only the metal guards protecting thepropellers saved them from being hopelessly jammed. Yet the attemptwas attended with good results as far as the British ship wasconcerned, for by the time U75 had lost way and had cautiously backedaway from the obstruction, the swift cargo-vessel had gained a distancethat put her beyond all chance of being overhauled. 

Infuriated by his failure, Kapitan Schwalbe went aft and descended intohis cabin. He was hardly conscious of the presence of his twoinvoluntary guests as he passed. He was thinking of the fate that hadconsigned him to a perilous and uncongenial task. Without doubt thevessel he had been pursuing was equipped with wireless, and by thistime a number of those dreaded hornets would be tearing towards thespot. To add to his discomfiture it was reported to him that thereserve of fuel on board had seriously dwindled. In order to remaineffective it was necessary that U75 should replenish her tanks beforeanother forty-eight hours had passed. 

According to his customary tactics, Schwalbe ordered the submarine todive to sixty feet. At that depth she would be safe from anypossibility of being rammed. Provided she could avoid the under-waterobstructions with which the British naval authorities had sown the bedof the sea at almost every point likely to be frequented by lurkinghostile submarines, she was in no actual danger. 

Gaining his diminutive cabin, Schwalbe by sheer force of habitconsulted the aneroid. The mercury was falling rapidly. Since he lastlooked, barely two hours previously, it had dropped 764 to 734millimetres, or an inch and two-tenths. That meant that theanti-cyclone was rapidly breaking up, and that a severe gale wasapproaching with considerable swiftness. 

U75 must submerge and seek shelter. It was impossible for her to keepat a uniform depth unless she maintained steerage-way; that meant agreat demand upon her storage batteries. She could not remain on thebottom of the sea in a heavy gale, owing to the constant "pumping" orup-and-down movements caused by the varying pressure of passing waves, unless she sought a sheltered roadstead--and sheltered roadsteads weregenerally mined, or guarded by some ingenious device that had alreadyaccounted for several of U75's consorts. 

Producing a chart of the Bristol Channel, Schwalbe unfolded and spreadit upon a table. Then, in conjunction with a translation of the latestBritish Admiralty guide to the west coast of England, he proceeded toselect what he hoped would be a snug shelter during the coming storm. 

"Herr Rix!" he shouted. "I'll make for this anchorage. There's everyindication of a strong blow from the nor'-east. "

"This" was Helwick Channel, a deep, almost blind passage between theGlamorgan coast and an outlying submerged reef known as the East andWest Helwick. In fine weather it was a short cut for traders plyingbetween Llanelly and Swansea. In bad weather it was a place to beavoided, as far as sailing vessels were concerned. Sheltered by thebold outlines of Worm's Head, it ought to prove an ideal lurking-placeuntil the gale had blown itself out, for there was little danger of theplace being used as an anchorage, since vessels preferred to give therock-bound coast a wide berth. On this account, it was also highlyprobable that the Helwick channel had not been safe-guarded by theBritish naval authorities. 

Just before sunset, U75, having made the passage unobserved, brought upin twelve fathoms of water, resting evenly on the firm, hard sands atthe bottom. 

Ross and his chum turned in early. There was nothing for them to do. They held aloof from the crew; there were no books to entertain them, no games to amuse them. The submarine was now motionless, sufficientwater ballast having been taken in to allow her to settle firmly uponthe bottom; but, in order to be prepared, the anchor was let go. Thusnot the slightest movement of the hull was apparent. The rest, afterhours of erratic movement on the oily swell, was a welcome one. 

The lads had set their joint watch by the submarine's time, which, being mid-European standard, was one hour fast of Greenwich. 

For several hours they slept soundly and undisturbed. Suddenly theywere both awakened by the muffled tramp of men in heavy sea-boots. Thesolitary light in the alley-way was switched off; the water-tight doorswere firmly closed. Already the air in the confined space was stifling. 

"What has happened?" asked Vernon anxiously, for the vessel, instead ofresting immovably upon the bed of the channel, was now rollingsluggishly. Yet she could not be under way, for the motors were silent. 

Springing from his bunk, Ross felt for the switch of the electriclight. It was already down, yet the flow of current was interrupted. 

"Let's find out, " he said. "Come along. "

The lads, before turning in, had carefully laid out their clothes, soas to be ready to slip into them at a moment's notice, yet it was amatter of considerable difficulty to dress in the dark. 

"The door's closed, " announced Ross as the lads groped their way to theend of the alley-way. 

"I believe the submarine's holed, " suggested Haye. 

"No; she wouldn't lift as she's doing. Besides, the crew are movingabout. Let's bang on the door with our boots. "

For several minutes they hammered, but without result. The air, neververy fresh, was now almost unbearable, owing to lack of ventilation. The imprisoned youths began to get desperate. 

Then, without warning, the door slid back. The alley-way was floodedwith brilliant light. 

"Make haste!" shouted a voice which the lads recognized as that of HansKoppe. At the same time he grasped Ross by the shoulder and literallydragged him across the steel threshold. Vernon followed quickly, butbarely had he gained the compartment beyond than the massive steel doorshot back again. 

"Didn't you hear the order all hands for'ard?" asked Hans, notunkindly, for the white faces of the English lads told their own tale. 

"No, " replied Ross. "Besides, we are not included in the 'hands', arewe?"

"You'll have to bear the consequences if you don't obey, " rejoinedKoppe. "I'm supposed to be looking after you, but how was I to knowyou hadn't turned out? Fortunately for you, I heard your knocking, andasked Herr Kapitan to open the doors. He was angry, but did so. "

"What has happened then?" asked Trefusis, for the seaman seemed in acommunicative mood. 

"A shift of wind. It's blowing great guns up aloft, and there's aterrific tumble into this channel. We've dragged, or, rather, swunground our anchor. "

"But we are safe enough?" asked Vernon. 

"Yes, safe, " replied Hans. "Too safe; we cannot break out our anchor. They are sending a diver to see what is amiss. "

Evidently the diving arrangements on board were not considered to be ofa confidential nature, for Hans led the way to the compartment underthe fore-hatch, without the lads being sent back by the significantword "verboten". 

A man was preparing for a submarine walk. He was already dressed in anindia-rubber suit, with leaden weights attached to his chest, back, andboots. Two others were standing by, ready to place the helmet over hishead, when Leutnant Rix had finished giving him minute directions. 

The officer spoke rapidly and in a low tone. Ross could not catch allhe said, but the words "gefährliche Strömungen" (dangerous currents)and "Der Wendepunkt der Flut" (slack water) and "Drei Viertel funf" (aquarter to five) occurred frequently. 

Vernon glanced at his watch. It was then a minute after four. Apparently Rix was impressing upon the man that he must clear theanchor at slack water, which occurred at a quarter to five. 

The two attendants then proceeded to place the diver's helmet on hishead. The lads noticed that it had neither air-tube nor telephonewire. Nor was there a life-line attached to his waist. Fresh air wasobtained from a metal case strapped to his back. The man was able towork independently, and without having to rely upon his air supply fromthe submarine. 

The oval door in the diving-chamber was thrown open. The diverentered, and the water-tight panel was quickly replaced. One of theseamen thrust over a short lever, and immediately water rushed into thesmall compartment. As soon as the space was filled the diver was ableto open a similar door in the outer plating of the submarine, and thusgain the bed of the sea. 

Presently Leutnant Rix turned, and saw for the first time that Ross andVernon were discreetly standing in the background. 

"Go away. It is forbidden!" he shouted angrily. 

They obeyed promptly, retreating to the space allotted to the crew, since it was neither desirable nor possible to return to their bunks. 

For some minutes the luckless Hans Koppe was subjected to a severedressing-down by his hot-headed officer, and when at length the seamanrejoined the lads he was in no humour to resume conversation. 

Slowly the minutes sped. The submarine was still rolling sluggishly, in spite of the fact that more water had been admitted into the ballasttanks. 

The men were talking seriously amongst themselves. From scraps ofconversation that drifted to the lads' ears, it was evident that theyhad grave doubts concerning the ability of the diver to perform histask, and even of his chances of regaining the submarine, owing to theviolent disturbances of the water. 

Presently the motion of the anchored submarine became more acute. Aweird grating sound--the noise made by the hull rasping over the bed ofthe sea--was distinctly audible. 

One of the seamen produced a pocket compass. His startled exclamationbrought other members of the crew around him. The magnetic needle wasapparently describing a semicircle. U75 was swinging round her anchor. 

Just then a bell tinkled, and a disc oscillated on the indicator boardon the bulkhead. Instantly the two men who had been told off asattendants upon the diver hurried aft, while their companions crowdedexpectantly around the door. 

The two men came back, staggering under the weight of the diver. Theyhad already removed his head-dress and leaden weights. Water droppedfrom his rubber suit. His face was livid, his eyes wide open androlling. One of his bare hands was streaked with blood that flowedsullenly from a cut in his numbed flesh. 

Kapitan Schwalbe and Leutnant Rix followed him into the crew-space. Itwas not through feelings of compassion that they had come for'ard. Itwas acute anxiety to hear the diver's report. 

The luckless man was laid upon the mess-table. His attendants divestedhim of his diving-suit, and rubbed his body with rough towels. A pettyofficer poured half a glass of brandy down his throat. 

"What is amiss?" Kapitan Schwalbe kept on repeating. 

With a great effort the diver sat up. 

"An anchor, sir, " he gasped feebly. "An anchor--an English navalpattern one--has been dropped right over ours. A very big one. "

Then his eyes closed, and he fell back unconscious. 

"Gott in Himmel!" ejaculated Rix. "We are trapped!"

CHAPTER VIII

Balked by a Sea-plane

"How so?" demanded Kapitan Schwalbe. "If we keep quiet, thecruiser--for cruiser she must be, judging by the fellow'sdescription--will weigh and proceed. "

"When she does weigh we are undone, " said Rix despondently. "We areswinging round our anchor. For all we know, our cable has taken a turnround hers. As soon as they heave up their anchor, our anchor andcable will be brought up with it, and then the game is up. Either thestrain will overcome our dead weight and we will be hauled to thesurface, or else they'll lower one of their brutal explosive charges. "

"The situation is serious, " admitted Schwalbe in a low tone, for hisLeutnant's words had produced a demoralizing effect upon the men. "Howmuch cable have we inboard?"

Rix repeated the question. A petty officer doubled forward to consultthe cable indicator. U75's anchor, when under way, was housed in atrough on the under side of the submarine's forefoot. The cable wasautomatically ranged in a compartment between the inner and outerskins, the space being always filled with water. The inboard end ofthe cable was not shackled; but to prevent its being able to takecharge and run out, an indicator was placed on the bulkhead nearest tothe cable tier. The amount of chain let go was regulated by acompressor, which was actuated from within the hull by means of leversand cranks, watertight glands being provided to prevent any leakageinto the interior of the submarine. 

"Seventy-five fathoms, " reported the petty officer. "When we commencedto swing we paid out the length we had taken on board when we hoveshort. "

"We must sacrifice the lot, Herr Rix, " decided Kapitan Schwalbe. "There is no time to lose. Storm or no storm, we must slip and run forit. "

It was U75's only chance, but it left her with only a small stocklesskedge-anchor and chain, insufficient to withstand a heavy strain. 

The compressor was released. With a loud rumble, for every sound wasmagnified within the confined space, the rest of the cable was allowedto take charge. It did so promptly, the end of the chain giving thehull a defiant smack as it did so. U75, no longer held by her anchor, began to drift with the tide, scraping dismally over the bed of HelwichChannel. 

Schwalbe was now back at his post in the conning-tower. He dare nottake the submarine to the surface until he had put a safe distancebetween him and the anchored British warship. Nor did he care to orderthe ballast tanks to be blown. Rather than allow the "pumping" of theseas to hammer the submerged craft upon the hard sand, he preferred totake the risk of letting her drag. 

Fortunately the tide set evenly along the bed of the channel. Across-current would have set the submarine upon the jagged rocks of thehidden West Helwick Ridge. Nevertheless there was always the danger ofbeing hurled violently against a detached rock, or of fouling a livemine if by chance the British had laid obstructions in the channel. 

Both Ross and Vernon knew the danger, but, manfully concealing theirmisgivings, they watched the faces of those of the crew who were "watchbelow". Most of the men were Frisians, broad-shouldered, blonde-featured, and generally devoid of fear. Yet the ceaselessstrain upon the nerves had already begun to tell. As hardy fishermen, they would not have hesitated to launch their open boats in a storm togo to the rescue of a hapless vessel aground on the grim sand-banks ofthe Frisian shore. As the conscript crew of the submarine, compelledto keep within the limits of a steel box that almost momentarilythreatened to be their tomb, their natural bravery was quenched. 

Many of them sat upon their lockers, stolid-faced men who had alreadytasted of the bitterness of death. Others showed unmistakable signs ofexcitement, bordering on frenzy. They dreaded their life of modernpiracy. The idea of sinking hapless merchantmen was repugnant to them, for they understood the brotherhood of the sea. It would be differentif they were called upon to attack an armed British ship of war. Theyhad no option but to obey their junker officers, who in turn werecompelled to accept the misguided orders of the arch-pirate, vonTirpitz. 

They were disheartened, too, for reports, in spite of the vigilance ofthe officers to conceal them, had reached them of the losses inflictedupon other unterseebooten. Occasionally they heard of a submarine crewbeing saved, but generally it was a case of total loss of all on board, by some hitherto unknown means, at the hands of the British Navy. 

A hand touched Ross lightly on the shoulder. Turning, he saw HansKoppe standing in a darkened corner of the compartment. 

"Can you tell me this, mein herr?" asked the seaman in a low tone. "Isit true that the English give no quarter to German seamen insubmarines?"

"I shouldn't think that they would refuse to do so, " replied Trefusis. "Of course, I can quite understand that an opportunity doesn't oftenoccur; but I've heard of several instances in which your U-boats havesurrendered, and the crews have been treated exactly the same as otherprisoners of war. "

"I have heard differently, " said Hans, "but I hope it's a mistake. Ihave a feeling that we won't see Wilhelmshaven again. And I have awife and six children at Flensburg. Our Kapitan, too, expects that wemight be denied quarter, because we have sunk your merchantmen. Believe me, I regret having done so, but we have orders. Do you knowwhy Kapitan Schwalbe took you on board?"

"Because a certain German agent wanted us out of the way, I suppose, "replied Ross. 

"Perhaps, " admitted Hans Koppe. "But in the event of our beingcaptured he thinks that his good treatment of you will be in hisfavour. We are, I do not mind telling you, in a very tight corner. Our fuel supply is almost run out. We cannot hope to return home byway of the Straits of Dover. Not one of our submarines has tried thatpassage of late without meeting with disaster--at least, so I heard derKapitan tell der Leutnant. Ach! It is deplorable, this war. "

The rapid ringing of a gong was the signal for the watch below to turnout. A peculiar hissing noise proclaimed the fact that the ballasttanks were being emptied. U75 no longer grated over the bottom; hermotors were running almost dead slow. 

Although submerged, the submarine was "pumping" violently. Seasonedmen were prostrate with sea-sickness. The air, in spite of chemicalpurifiers, was becoming almost intolerable. Everything movable wasbeing thrown about in utter disorder, while to add to the discomfort ofthe crew the covering-plates of one of the lubricating-oil tanks hadbeen strained, and at every jerk jets of viscous fluid would squirtthrough the fracture and trickle sullenly over the floor of thecrew-space. 

Since the watertight doors were still closed, Ross and Vernon wereunable to get back to their bunks. Feeling thoroughly wretched, theywere glad to accept Hans Koppe's offer to lie down on a long locker. 

At noon, U75 came to the surface. The storm, being short forecasted, had quickly blown itself out, but the waves still ran high. 

It was a prearranged plan on the part of the three U-boats operating inthe English and Bristol Channels to communicate with each other bywireless at noon and at midnight. U75's wireless had a range of about180 miles, and although it could be "jammed", the call could not betapped by vessels other than the one for which it was intended. Tomake doubly sure, the messages were sent in code. 

For nearly ten minutes U75 "made her number" without eliciting anyreply. Perhaps it was well that Kapitan Schwalbe did not know what hadhappened to her consorts. U74 was at that moment lying on her side atthe bottom of a Welsh harbour, her crew poisoned by the chlorine fumesfrom her batteries--the result of a rash curiosity on the part of herLieutenant-Commander to investigate the approaches to the anchorage. As for U77, she was flying blindly for safety, with a couple ofdestroyers hard on her track, and a naval sea-plane overhead to directthem in their search. 

Foiled in her efforts to get in touch with her consorts, U75 remainedawash. The heave of the sea made it most difficult for her to use herperiscope with certainty, for she had chosen a bad pitch on herascent--the furious "overfalls" or "tide-rips" to the west of LundyIsland. 

"We'll pay another visit to St. Mena's Island, Herr Rix, " decidedKapitan Schwalbe, after the two officers had discussed the sinistermatter of their futile attempt to make use of the wireless. "To-nightat nine o'clock ought to suit. If we cannot get von Ruhle to see oursignals--for my own part, I doubt whether he is in these parts--we'llhave to do our best to get ashore. Meanwhile, keep a bright look-out. If we see any likely vessel coming this way, we'll try our luck oncemore. "

"Message just received, mein herr, " announced the wireless operator. 

"From whom?" enquired Kapitan Schwalbe eagerly. He was devoutly hopingthat either U74 or U77 had been able to "call up". 

"I cannot say, sir, " replied the man as he handed a code message to hissuperior. 

Decoded, the "wireless" was as follows:

"Station 41 to unterseebooten. Two hundred gallons of fuel availablehere. Will be on the look-out for signals at 1 a. M. "

The message was a "general call" for a secret petrol depot to anyGerman submarine operating in the vicinity. Reference to the list ofstations showed that "41" was at Port Treherne, a remote cove on theNorth Cornish coast about fifty miles from St. Mena's Island. 

"I suppose it's safe, " remarked Rix. 

"With due precautions--yes, " rejoined Kapitan Schwalbe. "At any rate, petrol we must have. Where's the chart? Ah, there we are! It looks afairly easy place to approach, don't you think? The only danger from anavigation point is apparently this ledge of rocks--Lost Chance Reef, it's called. What unpleasant names these Englishmen give to theircoasts!"

At that moment the Unter-leutnant, who happened to be at theconning-tower periscope, reported that a large vessel was bearing downtowards them. 

Kapitan Schwalbe hurried to the conning-tower. The object depicted wasthat of a modern tank-vessel about four hundred feet in length. Shewas low in the water, showing that she was well laden. In place ofmasts she had four stumpy poles supporting derricks. Right aft was thesingle funnel. The navigation bridge was well for'ard, connected withanother bridge just in front of the funnel by a long slender gangway. 

"An oil-tank homeward bound!" exclaimed Kapitan Schwalbe. "Just whatwe want to fall in with. All being well, there will be no necessity tovisit either Port Treherne or St. Mena's Island. Ach! When we havetaken what we require we will set fire to the ship, and the Englishwill have a splendid view of a maritime bonfire. "

The crew were ordered to their stations, the ballast tanks "blown", andU75 rose to the surface instead of "running awash", since the Kapitanhad resolved to stop the tank by gun-fire. 

Even then the waves were running so high that the guns' crews werealmost constantly up to their knees in water. 

Somewhat to the surprise of the submarine's officers and crew, thetank-steamer made no attempt to escape. The firing of a shot acrossher bows and the display of the black cross ensign were enough to causethe skipper to reverse her engines. 

In less than five minutes, the oil-vessel was rolling in the trough ofthe sea and drifting slowly to leeward. Yet it was a somewhatremarkable circumstance that no attempt was made to lower the redensign that was proudly displayed at the stern. 

Kapitan Schwalbe, with his intimate knowledge of navigation, knew thatthe only way possible to board the prize was to run to leeward of her, and let the hull of the large vessel serve as a breakwater. He alsoknew that the submarine would have to be constantly under way duringthe boarding operations, otherwise the tank-vessel, offeringconsiderable resistance to the wind, would drift down upon U75, whoseleeway was almost unappreciable. 

"Send a boat, and lower your accommodation ladder, " ordered KapitanSchwalbe, who, as the submarine ranged up half a cable's length toleeward of the tank-vessel, had left the shelter of the conning-towerand was standing on the platform in its wake. 

"Aye, aye, " was the prompt response. 

"Board her, Herr Rix, " said the Leutnant's superior officer. "Bringback her papers with you. Order them to pump heavy oil both towindward and leeward. We will then be able to run close alongside andreceive her hoses. "

A boat containing two seamen and an apprentice was lowered from thetank's quarter and rowed to the submarine. Into it dropped LeutnantRix and half a dozen armed men. With them they took two incendiarybombs fitted with time-fuses. 

Rix smiled grimly as he gained the oil-steamer's deck. The captain andfirst mate were at the head of the accommodation ladder to receive him. Most of the crew were already mustering on deck, each with a bundlecontaining his private effects. 

"You prize to German boat, " announced the Leutnant. "Make you notrouble and we you will not harm. First we will haf muchoil--petroleum, is it not? Order your engineer to get steam todonkey-engine, and your men--the--the---- Hein! Ach, I haf it--thehoses to get ready. When we fill up, then twenty minutes we give youto clear out. You onderstan'?"

"Perfectly, " replied the British skipper, a tall, raw-boned Scot, as heeyed the podgy German Leutnant with grim contempt. "But d'ye ken yon?"

[Illustration: "'D'YE KEN YON?' ASKED THE BRITISH SKIPPER, AS HE EYEDTHE PODGY GERMAN LEUTNANT WITH CONTEMPT"]

He pointed skywards. Less than five hundred feet up, yet sufficientlyfar from the tank-vessel to enable the latter to screen her from theunterseeboot, was a large naval sea-plane. It was to deaden the noiseof her motors that the ship's steam-pipe was continually blowing offsteam from the time that U75 made her peremptory demand. 

The eyes of the Leutnant and his six men followed the directionindicated by the British skipper's outstretched hand. 

At that instant the sea-plane was visible above the towering sides ofthe British vessel. 

U75 was still forging slowly ahead. In a trice Kapitan Schwalbedecided how to act. Ordering the men on deck to their diving stations, he dropped agilely into the conning-tower and gave the word for thehelm to be ported. 

Thus, while the quick-firers were being housed, the submarine had drawnclose under the oil-tank's quarter. Here she was comparatively safefrom the sea-plane, as the latter could not drop any bombs without riskof exploding the highly inflammable cargo of the British vessel. 

In ten seconds the sea-plane was over and beyond her quarry. She hadthen to turn and circle overhead, awaiting the chance of shattering herenemy as she dived. 

U75 was already disappearing beneath the waves. 

She dived at a very oblique angle, steeper than she had ever donebefore. 

Ross and Vernon, unaware of what was taking place, thought for a momentthat the submarine was plunging headlong to the bed of the BristolChannel. They had to cling desperately to the nearest object to handto prevent themselves from sliding violently against a transversebulkhead. 

Even as they clung they heard two muffled detonations in quicksuccession, followed by a distinct quiver of the submarine's hull--amovement that bore a marked difference to the vibrations under thepulsations of the motors. 

The sea-plane had dropped two bombs, both of which very nearly attainedtheir object. 

Kapitan Schwalbe did not bring the submarine to a horizontal positionuntil she had reached a depth of fifteen fathoms. At that depth he wassafe, both from explosives dropped from the sea-plane and also fromobservation. The water being still agitated, made it impossible forthe observer on the biplane to follow the movements of a dark shadowfathoms deep. For once, the rough seas had been kind to U75; but thefact remained that she was still badly in want of fuel, while his lastattempt had resulted in the loss of an officer and six men, who couldnot well be spared. 

Although the sea-plane had failed to achieve her object by pulverizingthe U-boat's hull, the moral and material result was none the lesseffective. 

The explosion of the bombs had started several of U75's plates. Numerous jets of water were spurting through the seams, the inrushrequiring all the mechanical appliances at the command of the modernpirate to keep the leaks under control, while the badly-jarred nervesof Kapitan Schwalbe and his crew warned them of the grave risks theyran in attempting to try conclusions with even an apparently harmlesscraft displaying the Red Ensign of Britain's Mercantile Marine. 

CHAPTER IX

The Landing at Port Treherne

"I wonder if they'll let us go on deck, " remarked Vernon Haye. "If so, I vote we have a shot at getting ashore. What sort of show is PortTreherne?"

"I know it fairly well, " replied Ross. "It's the most forsaken cribyou are ever likely to meet along the coast. It's a deep gully in thecliffs. There's only one small landing-place--a flat rock. Years agothere used to be a tramway down to the rock, and they shipped copperore by means of derricks into lighters, which were towed across in fineweather to Swansea. But the mine closed down, the village is nowdeserted, and I don't believe there are any fishermen there. They saythat the stream that flows into the port is still heavily charged withmundic. At all events the water is of a bright-red colour for severalhundred yards from shore, and no fish will stick that. "

It was close on the midnight following the disastrous attempt on thepart of U75 to capture the oil-tank. The submarine was running awash, proceeding very slowly and cautiously towards Port Treherne--Station 41of the secret petrol depots established by German agents along thecoast of the British Islands. 

The lads had been informed of the destination of the submarine, but hadnot been told why. Nevertheless it was an easy conjecture that U75 wasgoing there to pick up stores that she had been unable to obtain insufficient quantities at St. Mena's Island. 

The Unter-leutnant was in charge of the submarine. Kapitan Schwalbehad taken the advantage of the opportunity of a few hours' sleep. Under-officered and undermanned, the strain on the personnel was asevere one. It was only on rare occasions that Schwalbe could infuture descend from his post in the conning-tower. 

At midnight, according to custom, the submarine called up her consortsby wireless. Judging by the previous attempt it seemed a useless task, but to the Operator's surprise he received a reply from U77, which wasthen lying off the Scillies. 

Kapitan Schwalbe, aroused from his sleep, eagerly awaited the decodingof the message. It was to the effect that the commander of U77 hadreceived information that H. M. S. _Tremendous_, one of the earlierDreadnoughts, was leaving Gibraltar for Rosyth. The _Tremendous_, heknew, had been engaged in the Dardanelles operations. U77 thereforesuggested that the two unterseebooten should meet at a rendezvous offThe Lizard, and attempt a _coup de main_, the success of which would gotowards atoning for the blunders and losses sustained by the Germansubmarines in their endeavour to blockade the British Isles. 

"Good!" exclaimed Kapitan Schwalbe. "Tell them that I purpose torendezvous twenty kilometres S. W. By W. Of The Lizard, on Thursday at10 p. M. I am now about to take in fuel. Will communicate again atnoon to-morrow. Ask them if they have picked up a wireless from U74. "

Some time elapsed before the message could be coded by the sender andtranslated by the receiving submarine. When the reply confirming therendezvous was received, a message was added to the effect that U77 hadheard nothing of U74 for three days. It was presumed, however, thatshe was now on her way back to Wilhelmshaven, and was already out ofwireless range. 

Kapitan Schwalbe knew better. As senior officer of the threesubmarines detached to operate in these waters, he was aware that U74would not have left her station without orders from him. That part ofthe message had been sent merely as a "blind", so that the crews of theremaining unterseebooten should not be discouraged. It was safe toconclude, decided Kapitan Schwalbe, that another of the blockaders hadgone to the bottom for the last time. 

It was close on one o'clock when the "wirelessing" terminated. U75, which had hitherto been running awash, was now trimmed for surface work. 

Most of the crew went on deck. Amongst them were Ross and Vernon, noone offering any objection. 

The sea was no longer rough. A long oily swell took the place of thewhite-crested wave. The night was dark. Only a few stars werevisible. Away to the S. E. , the black outlines of the Cornish coastreared themselves like an enormous wall against the gloomy sky. 

Suddenly Vernon touched his chum's elbow, as a faint pin-prick of lightglimmered twice. It was the shore agent's signal that the coast wasclear. 

Barely carrying steerage-way, U75 stood in towards the as yet invisiblePort Treherne. Already her crew had brought the collapsible canvasboat from below, "man-handling" it through the fore hatch. The men, having opened it out and shipped the felt-lined and well-greasedrowlocks, stood by to launch it. 

Gradually the towering cliffs enclosing the creek becamedistinguishable against the loftier background of gaunt hills. Intothe gap the submarine crept with the utmost caution, until it seemed asif she were on the point of running her nose against the sheer face ofthe granite wall. The water bubbled slightly as her motors werereversed; then, turning in her own length, she brought up, with herbows pointing seawards. 

Three of the crew grasped the canvas boat and pushed it gently into thewater on the port side. One of them clambered in and shipped the oarsin the row-locks. 

The two lads were cautiously scanning the shores of the inlet. Rosscould sniff the unmistakable Cornish air. The call of home seemedirresistible. It looked a comparatively easy matter to slip quietlyover the starboard side, and swim with noiseless strokes towards theweed-covered rocks that showed six feet or more above the sea. It washalf ebb-tide; there was little or no drift out of the cove. Under theshadow of those dark cliffs detection seemed almost impossible, unlessthe submarine went to the risky expedient of switching on hersearch-light. 

They moved stealthily towards the light wire railing on the starboardside just abaft the conning-tower. Everything seemed in their favour. Kapitan Schwalbe and the Unter-leutnant were on the navigationplatform, peering through their night-glasses towards the flat rockthat served as a landing-place. Two of the seamen were engaged incoiling down a hand-lead line; the rest of the men on deck weredevoting their attention to the now departing canvas boat. 

"Not so fast, my friends, " exclaimed a low deep voice, which the ladsrecognized as that of Kapitan Schwalbe. "Remember I have a pistolready to hand. "

"How in the name of goodness did he know what we were up to?" thoughtRoss. 

The chums stood stock-still. They felt much like children found out insome petty escapade. 

"Koppe! Where are you?" asked the Kapitan in a loud whisper. 

"Here, sir, " replied the seaman. 

"I hold you responsible for these Englishmen. Now they are trying togive us the slip. Take them below. But hold on. Secure them to astanchion. Chain them up, and bring me the key. "

The seaman approached the lads almost apologetically, and led them tothe port side just for'ard of the conning-tower. A light steel chainwas hitched round Ross's right ankle and Vernon's left, and deftlypadlocked round one of the uprights supporting the hand-rail. 

"It is of no use trying any of your pranks here, " commented KapitanSchwalbe, still in a low tone. "You are only looking for trouble. "

For several moments all was still, save for the screech of a benightedgull. Overhead a meteor passed swiftly across the sky, throwing a palegleam upon-the lurking submarine. 

"Wer da?"

The words, although uttered in an undertone, travelled distinctly overthe placid waters of the cove. 

The sailor in the boat muttered some inaudible reply. The listeners inthe submarine could detect the sound of his oars as he laid them acrossthe thwarts. Then, after further conversation, could be heard therumble of metal as the tins of petrol were rapidly placed in the boat. 

"How many are there?" asked Kapitan Schwalbe eagerly as the menreturned with the first load. 

"Forty here, Herr Kapitan. Altogether there are over two hundred. "

"Then be sharp and whip them on board. Was there any communication forme?"

"A bundle of English newspapers, sir, and this letter. "

The man drew the documents from the inside of his jumper and passedthem to a seaman, who in turn handed them to the skipper. 

"I may have to land, sir, " continued the seaman. "The rest of the cansare in a cove at some distance from the landing-place. Can Max go withme to mind the boat? There is a slight ground-swell at times, and shemight have a hole through her canvas if she is allowed to grind againstthe rocks. "

Receiving an affirmative reply, the man told his comrade to get onboard, and once more the boat vanished into the darkness. 

Another twenty minutes elapsed, then came the sounds of muffledfootsteps, and of volatile spirit surging inside the petrol cans. Thenone of the men must have slipped, for there was a slight scuffling, followed by the loud crash of a can clattering over the rocks. 

"'Alt! Who goes there?" shouted a hoarse and unmistakably Englishvoice. 

"Freund, " promptly replied the German sailor. 

It would have been far wiser on his part if he had waited for hisfellow-worker, the German agent, to reply, since his knowledge andpronunciation of English were almost perfect. But unfortunately it wasthe spy who had fallen, and, half-winded by coming in contact with oneof the tins, was gasping for breath and at the same time rubbing abarked shin. 

"Not good enough for me, old sport, " rejoined the challenger, andwithout further ado he let loose "five rounds rapid". 

A loud yell announced that one of the bullets had at least takeneffect. It was the prostrate spy who received a dose of nickel throughthe fleshy part of his thigh. 

The seaman, dropping his cans, fled for his life. Recklessly he leaptfrom the landing-place into the canvas boat, which his comrade had beenkeeping at oar's length from the shore. The sudden impetus was toomuch for the frail craft. She capsized, and, being onlysingle-skinned, sank like a stone. 

Already men, members of a picket, were hastening to the sentry'ssupport, their progress marked by a lantern held by a stout and sleepysergeant. 

By this time U75 was making for the open sea. Kapitan Schwalbe wascursing loudly; not because the luckless agent had been hit--it was hisfault for not making sure of his ground; not so much on account of theloss of two more men, nor of the sinking of the only boat belonging tothe submarine. His anger was aroused at the knowledge that once againhis efforts to obtain fuel had been balked. The quantity contained inforty tins was a mere fraction of the amount he required in order tocarry out his ambitious programme. Bitterly he realized that, likethose of transgressors, the ways of modern pirates are hard. 

CHAPTER X

A Treacherous Plot

A ragged volley of musketry followed the departing submarine. Onebullet mushroomed itself against the steel conning-tower; anotherzipped through one of the guard-rails. The rest either flew harmlesslyoverhead or ricochetted from the surface of the placid water. 

Nevertheless the firing was a signal for the crew to hasten below. Kapitan Schwalbe and the Unter-leutnant disappeared with ignominiousspeed within the conning-tower. The men, bending low, bolted for thefore hatch. In twenty seconds the deck of U75 was deserted save forRoss and Vernon, who, padlocked to the stanchion, were unable to movesix inches in either direction. They were only partly screened by therise of the conning-tower. A sharp splinter from the bullet that hadsplayed against the steel wall cut cleanly through Vernon's coat sleeveand inflicted a slight gash in the lad's forearm, yet in the excitementhe hardly noticed it. 

"I say, old man, " exclaimed Ross, as a wave slapping against thesubmarine's bow threw a shower of spray over the two prisoners. "Whatwill happen if they submerge? It seems to me as if old Schwalbe hasforgotten us. "

"He would have dived before this if he intended so doing, " repliedHaye. "Ten to one he's going to pay us out for attempting to takeFrench, or rather German, leave. It's jolly cold and mightyuncomfortable, but we'll keep a stiff upper lip and show him what weare made of. "

"With all due deference to you, old chap, " rejoined Trefusis, his teethchattering as the keen wind played upon his saturated garments, "Iwould far rather be without this badge of German kultur. " He indicatedthe chain that encircled his ankle. "I don't think that you can hold abrief for Kapitan Schwalbe. I am not so sure about it that he is notgoing to dive. "

U75 dipped as he spoke, submerging her fore deck almost to the base ofthe conning-tower. Then, with a double cascade of water pouring fromher, she shook herself free, throwing her bows high above the surface. 

A man, gripping the stanchion-rail as he made his way knee-deep inwater, came towards the two prisoners. It was Hans Koppe. He hadobtained the Kapitan's permission to release his charges from theiruncomfortable position. 

"Hold on tightly as you go aft, " he cautioned. "There is hot coffeewaiting for you below. "

It was impracticable to descend by means of the fore hatch. That meansof communication had already been closed and battened down, owing tothe constant flow of water over the bows. Even the after hatch, inspite of the protection afforded by the conning-tower and the raisedcoaming, was admitting water into the interior of the submarine. 

Cold, exhausted, and hungry, the lads were glad to be able to eat anddrink, discard their wringing-wet garments, and turn in. Withoutwaking they slept solidly for ten hours. It was one in the afternoonwhen they turned out. U75 was rounding Land's End. She was submerged, steering a compass course, but frequently showing her periscope toascertain her whereabouts. Already the Longships Lighthouse was broadon the port beam. 

It was a tedious, discomforting run from Land's End to The Lizard. TheMounts Bay fishing fleets were out, a circumstance that compelled thesubmarine to keep below the surface. Kapitan Schwalbe knew that oncethe alert skippers of these boats sighted even the tip of theperiscope, the news of the presence of a hostile submarine would bequickly sent to the naval authorities at Devonport. The necessity forsecrecy also prevented him from making use of the wireless: not thatthe message would be deciphered, but because the origin of the messagecould be fixed with comparative certainty by any of the Britishwireless stations that "picked up" her call. 

The approaches to Plymouth Sound, too, gave Kapitan Schwalbe a badtime. Far beyond the Eddystone, and from Looe Island to Bigbury Bay, armed trawlers and torpedo-boats patrolled incessantly, their movementsaided by sea-planes. It was almost a matter of impossibility for ahostile submarine to approach Plymouth Sound by daylight, since theaeroplanes were able to discern any sinister object moving under thecomparatively shallow and clear waters between Rame Head and StokePoint; while at night the precautions taken were of such an elaborateand efficient description as to seal the fate of any submarine rashenough to run her head into a noose. 

Accordingly U75 gave the Eddystone a wide berth, shaping a course topass twenty miles to the south'ard of the far-famed lighthouse. Hereshe was in the thick of the Channel traffic, a stream of mercantileships passing up and down as unconcernedly as if such a thing as aGerman submarine did not exist. 

Although there were plenty of opportunities, Kapitan Schwalbe made noattempt to molest the ships. For one thing, experience had taught himthat the British merchant skipper possessed a bull-dog tenacity, and acourage not to be daunted by the sight of a hostile periscope appearingfrom nowhere in the midst of a waste of water. For another, he was nowon the look-out for more important game--his chance to retrieve hisalready vanishing prestige. 

However, one of the merchant vessels served him a good purpose, although unknown to her. Marking a large ocean tramp bound up-Channel, U75 dived deeply, so as to be free from any danger of being hit by herforefoot. 

With the noise of the tramp's propeller to guide her, U75 followed, unsuspected, in her wake as she made for the Lizard Light. 

Arriving safely at the rendezvous, Kapitan Schwalbe waited until it wasdark, and then cautiously brought the submarine awash. Punctually atten o'clock a feeble violet light blinked through the night. It wasU77's call to her consort. 

"What's the game, I wonder?" asked Vernon, as a hail in German wasborne faintly to their ears. 

The chums had turned in. There was nothing else for them to do, sincethey had been ordered to leave the quarters allotted to the crew. Asthere was no furniture of any description in the alley-way that hadbeen made their sleeping compartment, they had climbed into theirbunks. Here they could maintain an almost uninterrupted conversation. 

"Hist!" exclaimed Ross warningly. He had been lying with his earalmost touching one of the many voice-tubes that led from theconning-tower to various parts of the submarine. Quite by accident, hediscovered that the pipes formed an excellent conductor of sound in amanner that had not been intended. 

"What are you doing?" asked Haye curiously. 

"Jam your ear against the centre one of these three pipes, " said hischum. 

Vernon did so. It required very little movement on his part, since thebunks were rather narrow. The same voice-tube that Ross was "tapping"ran vertically past Haye's bunk, which was immediately underneath theone Trefusis had appropriated from the time when he had been laid uponit under the influence of the injection. 

This particular pipe formed a means of vocal communication between theconning-tower and Kapitan Schwalbe's cabin. For some reason thewhistle had been removed from the cabin end, and consequently soundsfrom the Kapitan's quarters were conveyed with tolerable clearness. 

There were two men engaged in conversation. One was Kapitan Schwalbe;the other, who spoke in a lower key, and so rapidly that Ross had greatdifficulty in mentally translating his words, was theLieutenant-Commander of U77. He had been put aboard U75 only a fewminutes previously. 

"My dear von Hoffner, " Kapitan Schwalbe was saying. "Your plan is allvery well as far as you are concerned; but where do we come in?Understand that while we are on the surface our risks are increasedten-fold. Suppose, for instance, the battleship does not notice, oraffects not to notice, the white flag?"

"She will, right enough, " assured the Lieutenant-Commander of U77. "These English are such fools that in their anxiety to observe therules of warfare" (here von Hoffner laughed sardonically) "they playinto our hands. More than a twelvemonth of war has not taught themthat the hitherto recognized observances of war are no longer binding. This is not a petty squabble between two nations. It is a struggle forexistence; consequently it is where our frightfulness scores. "

"It hasn't up to the present, according to my experience, " objectedKapitan Schwalbe gloomily. "These Englishmen simply won't befrightened. But to return once more to the point: what steps do youpropose to take to minimize my risk?"

"There must be risk, of course, " remarked von Hoffner. "According tolatest reports, it seems pretty certain that we cannot hope tointercept the _Tremendous_ during the hours of darkness. Consequentlywe have to make use of a ruse. Directly I spot her I dive, keeping asmuch as possible close to her track, say three hundred metres off. "

"Yes, you dive, " commented Schwalbe caustically. "That is quitefeasible. But what of U75?"

"She will keep on the surface almost exactly in the indicated path ofthe battleship. You will strike your ensign and hoist a large whiteflag in its place. It will mean scrapping your best tablecloth, meinherr. With the wind in its present quarter the flag will blow athwartthe battleship's course, so there is no risk of it not being seen. Youand your crew will, of course, form up aft. That will give more colourto the deception. "

"Perhaps it will work, " said Kapitan Schwalbe. 

"Perhaps? Of course it will, " declared von Hoffher sanguinely. "Thenthe rest is child's play. Directly the _Tremendous_ slows down--it'sthe speed of these battleships that has caused us to miss hitherto--Iwill let loose two torpedoes. There will be no bungling, I assure you. I'll take good care to hit her close to the magazine, and there will beno opportunity for her to use her quick-firers. 

"By the by, I've two English boys on board, " said the Kapitan of U75. In a few words he related the circumstances in which they were madeprisoners. "I suppose they ought to line up on deck with the hands?"

"Certainly, " replied von Hoffher, with one of his cold-bloodedsniggers. "It will heighten the illusion. It will do them good to seewhat one of our unterseebooten can do. But it is highly important thatthere be no survivors from the torpedoed battleship. The ruse is agrand one, and can be employed over and over again, provided that thesecret does not leak out. After all, I don't think I would bring theseEnglish youths on deck. "

"They are safe enough, " protested Schwalbe. "If we return toWilhelmshaven, they will be locked up in safe custody until the end ofthe war. If we do not, then I fancy there will be no survivors fromU75 as well as from the English battleship _Tremendous_. "

The two treacherous officers conversed in a similar strain for severalminutes longer. Then came the sound of glasses being clinked as anaccompaniment to a boastful toast. Talking boisterously, the twoofficers left the cabin, and presently the lads heard the sound of oarsas von Hoffner was rowed back to his command. 

CHAPTER XI

Preparations

"The brutes!" ejaculated Vernon savagely. He was violently excited. Perspiration was pouring off his face at the thought of the almostunparalleled act of wanton treachery that was about to be enacted. "Ifwe could only prevent them!"

"I can't see how, " rejoined Ross gloomily. "We cannot give an alarm. If we could control the valves for half a minute, I'd sink this blessedcraft with all on board, myself included, for good and all. But it isno use talking of the impossibly heroic. "

"I have a plan, " announced Vernon, after thinking deeply for a fewminutes. 

"Well, out with it!"

"We have to pass through one of the broadside torpedo-rooms as we go ondeck. We could each snatch a spanner and give the war-heads a terrificblow. You'll remember that there are half a dozen torpedoes in thecages against the bulkhead. It would mean certain death for us, but itwould save nearly a thousand lives. "

Ross shook his head. 

"There's no certainty of success, " he objected. "Those torpedoes arevery much like our own Whiteheads. The striker in the head isprotected against accidental discharge by a small propeller. Until thetorpedo travels a certain distance through the water--sufficient forthe resistance against the blades to cause the safety device tounthread and leave the striker free to hit the primer--the danger ofpremature explosion is almost negligible. We shouldn't have time torevolve the safety blades enough, and I'm pretty certain that even aheavy blow on the war-head itself would not explode the charge. "

"Then I'm done, " said Vernon dejectedly. "Think of something, oldman--something that will hold water. "

Silence ensued for nearly ten minutes, broken only by the tapping ofthe waves against the sides of the submarine, and the gentle purr ofthe dynamos for supplying light to the interior of the vessel. 

Suddenly Ross leapt out of his bunk. He dared not trust himself tospeak above a whisper for fear of being overheard. 

"Dash it all, old man!" exclaimed Vernon, when his chum had confidedhis plans; "it ought to work. If it doesn't, nothing else will. I'mon it, happen what may!"

"We'll want our knives for the job, " continued Ross. "Yours will openeasily, I hope? Good! Sharp? We'll run no risks. A sharp blade isabsolutely necessary. "

They drew the knives and whetted the blades upon the soles of theirboots. At Vernon's suggestion they kept open the big blades, making ahole through the lining of their pockets in order to keep the knives ina horizontal position and ready to hand. 

"Now let's turn in properly, " suggested the practical Ross. "We wantto be fairly fresh for the job in front of us. "

Soon after sunrise on the morrow all hands were mustered aft on deck, Ross and Vernon included. It was a bright morning. The sun had risenseemingly out of the sea, or in nautical parlance it was a "low dawn". There was a chilliness in the air that made the lads wish that they hadbeen wearing overcoats. 

They looked in vain for U75's consort. The unterseeboot that was todeal the coward's blow was not to be seen. Her presence was to be kepta secret from the crew of the decoy. 

Kapitan Schwalbe, accompanied by his Unter-leutnant, made his way aft. He looked pale and care-worn. He had lost his military manner. Hisgait suggested that of a man recovering from a long illness. 

"My men, " he exclaimed, "circumstances over which I have no controlmake it necessary to bring our cruise to a speedy termination. U75 isno longer in a state of efficiency, either for offence or flight. Ittherefore remains for us to save our lives by surrendering to the firstEnglish ship of war that we fall in with. It is a humiliating anddistasteful step to take, but there is no option. "

The crew heard this lying speech in silence. They hardly knew what tomake of it. The majority mentally decided that it was better to beimprisoned in England than to rot on the bed of the sea. KapitanSchwalbe had no faith in his men's histrionic abilities; he was alsoafraid that they would oppose the scheme that he himself had deprecatedas being too risky. 

Hiding their indignation, Ross and his chum saw the Kapitan hand apetty officer a white flag. The man took it, and lashed short piecesof cord to two adjacent corners. 

Hans Koppe sidled up to his charges. 

"You will soon be free, " he remarked. "Ach! but you do not seemoverjoyed. You English are indeed a queer race. "

Receiving no reply, the man went below to follow the example of hiscomrades, who were getting together their personal belongings. Many ofthem thought of the times when they had seen non-belligerents dolikewise. It was the boot on the other foot with a vengeance. 

Ross gave another glance across the horizon. Nothing was in sight. Gripping his chum's arm, he led him for'ard. U75 was motionless. Thedeck was deserted. A quartermaster stood on the navigation platform infront of the conning-tower. Kapitan Schwalbe and his Unter-leutnanthad likewise vanished. 

As Ross passed the conning-tower, he pulled out his knife and deftlysevered the lashings of a couple of buoys secured to the hand-rail. Itwas the first act of the lad's plan of operations. 

"Vessel on the port bow, sir!" shouted the quartermaster. 

Kapitan Schwalbe was on deck in a trice, closely followed by hissubordinate. For a few moments, he kept his binoculars focused uponthe indistinct grey object, then three miles off. 

"It is the _Tremendous_, " he announced in an undertone to theUnter-leutnant. "Another ten minutes will see the business through. "

He spoke with confidence, but it was a confidence inspired by a liberaldose of brandy. He felt that he had already passed the Rubicon. Therecould be no turning back. 

A whistle trilled shrilly. At the signal the men again doubled aft, and joined up in a double line. 

"Where are the English boys?" enquired Kapitan Schwalbe. 

"Coming, " replied Ross. For the first time on board he omitted to addthe word "sir". His omission was deliberate. Utter contempt for theGerman captain consumed him. Schwalbe, too, noticed the manner inwhich he had replied. He smiled grimly, imagining that now the ladsthought themselves about to be free they could afford to be curt. 

As the chums passed the lifebuoys, they deftly heaved them overboard. They fell with hardly a splash, dropping close to the side of themotionless submarine. 

No one noticed the act. The attention of the crew was centred upon alittle ceremony that was taking place. Bareheaded, the men stood atattention. Their voices broke into the song of "Die Wacht am Rhein" asthe emblem of German sea-power was slowly lowered from the ensign staff. 

The men sang sonorously and in perfect cadence. They firmly believedthat it was their last tribute as free men to their Fatherland. As thelast bar terminated, the petty officer smartly hoisted the white flag. For an instant it hung limply, confined by one of the halliards; thenlike a square of stretched canvas it blew out in the steady breeze--amodern counterpart of the kiss of Judas. 

And standing just behind the Kapitan, within arm's reach of the ensignstaff, were Ross Trefusis and Vernon Haye. 

CHAPTER XII

The White Flag--and Afterwards

H. M. S. _Tremendous_, super-Dreadnought of 24, 000 tons displacement, andmounting ten 13. 5-inch guns as her principal armament, was tearingup-Channel at 21 knots. 

She looked far different from the spick-and-span battleship which hadleft Portsmouth only six weeks previously. 

Her armoured sides still showed unmistakable traces of the impact ofTurkish shells. Her grey paint was blotched, blistered, and stained. Her after funnel had plates of sheet-iron riveted to it to hide agaping hole large enough to drive a stage-coach through. Her guns wereworn out by sheer hard work. It was mainly on this account that shewas homeward bound: to have the gigantic weapons "re-lined" in orderthat she might again take her place as an effective unit of the GrandFleet. 

The middle watch was about to relieve the morning watch. The messdecks were a seething mass of humanity. In spite of the apparentconfusion everyone was in high good humour, for another few hours(D. V. ) would find H. M. S. _Tremendous_ at Pompey--as Portsmouth has fromtime immemorial been termed by the Navy. 

On the fire-control platform sleepy-eyed officers were awaiting theirreliefs. Around the 12-pounders, the muzzles of which grinnedmenacingly from apparently haphazard positions in the superstructure, men were grouped, ready at the first alarm to train the weapons upon apossible foe. Day after day ceaseless vigilance was maintained. Oneand all realized that a moment's negligence might result in destructionby one of the most horrible creations of modern science. 

"Submarine on the starboard bow, sir!"

For an instant all was tense silence. Then a bugle blared, followed bythe clear trills of the bos'n's mates' pipes and the hurried tramp ofmen's feet. 

The officer of the watch brought his telescope to bear ahead. He was ajunior lieutenant, Bourne by name, and in receipt of a private incomeof eight hundred a year. On that sum he might have lived the life of aman of leisure, but he vastly preferred a strenuous life as acommissioned officer in the Royal Navy. Not once had he regretted hischoice, and upon the outbreak of war he was ready to execute a hornpipeof sheer delight at the prospect of "being in the big scrap". 

"She's flying the white flag, by Jove!" he ejaculated. "Funny, deucedly funny!"

He had to act, and act promptly, for a battleship travelling at 21knots does not give a man time to think for any length of time. Already a messenger had been despatched to inform the "skipper", butbefore the captain could gain the navigation bridge (more than likelyhe was in his bath) the _Tremendous_ would have covered the interveningdistance. 

The quartermaster looked enquiringly at the Lieutenant. Bourne steppedhastily to the engine-room telegraph indicator, half inclined to ringdown for "half-speed", or even "stop both engines". 

He stopped abruptly. 

"Steady on your helm, quartermaster. "

"Steady it is, sir, " replied the petty officer. 

The telegraph indicator remained untouched. With undiminished speedH. M. S. _Tremendous_ held on, under the propelling force of turbineengines of 30, 000 indicated horse-power. 

A midshipman, standing by the side of the officer of the watch, hadbeen keeping the submarine under observation by means of his telescope. 

"By Jove, sir!" he exclaimed. "There's something wrong there. Thewhite flag's down, and two fellows in mufti have leapt overboard. "

"Torpedo on the port bow, sir!" sang out half a dozen lusty voices inchorus. 

"Hard-a-port, quartermaster!" ordered Bourne. 

The spokes of the steam steering-gear revolved quicker than they hadever done before. Listing heavily to port, the _Tremendous_ turnedwith a rapidity that belied her huge bulk and apparent unhandiness. Adouble track of ever-diverging foam marked the progress of the deadlymissile. Another followed almost in its wake, both torpedoestravelling at the speed of an express train. 

For four seconds all on board who watched these messages of death stoodwith bated breath. Then a general roar of relief went up as the two"tinfish" glided harmlessly past the ship, the nearest at a distance ofless than twenty feet, and parallel to the new course of the battleship. 

Half a dozen quick-firers spat viciously. A 6-inch, two of which forsome obscure reason the designers had placed on the main deck abreastof the after 15-inch guns, added to the din. A chaos of smoke, flame, and spray marked the spot beneath which U77 had lurked to launch hercowardly and treacherous bolt. 

"That's blinded her, at least, " thought Bourne. 

He knew that even if the hidden submarine had escaped injury, a minuteat least would elapse before she could be conned into a position todischarge another torpedo. That minute would be enough for his purpose. 

"Starboard!" he ordered. "Ram her, quartermaster!"

Round swung the 24, 000 tons of dead weight, steadied, and bore downupon the motionless U75. Cries of terror burst from the doomed crew, many of whom leapt overboard in a vain attempt to swim clear of thevengeful leviathan. 

Bourne gripped the guard-rail, half expecting to be thrown violently bythe force of the impact. He was mistaken. 

With hardly a tremor the bows of the _Tremendous_ crashed into theunterseeboot, hitting her just abaft the conning-tower. The bowportion sank like a stone. The after part reared itself high in theair, revealing the curiously shaped stern, the two propellers, and thecomplication of rudders. Then, before the cloud of smoke and spray hadtime to drift inboard, the _Tremendous_ was over and beyond theever-widening circle of iridescent oil that marked the ocean grave ofyet another of the would-be blockaders of Britain's shores. 

Even in the midst of his great responsibility Bourne's keen eyediscerned two heads bobbing up and down in the water. The midshipmannoticed them too. 

"They are those fellows who hauled down the white flag, sir, " heexclaimed. "They are quite youngsters, too, and we daren't stop. "

"No, we dare not, " agreed the Lieutenant. For aught he knew, anotherunterseeboot might be in the vicinity, reserving her torpedoes in thehope that the battleship would slow down to investigate. "Pass theword to the sentry to let go the Kisbie. It's the best we can do. "

With a splash the patent lifebuoy was dropped from the cage at theextremity of the navigation-bridge. It bobbed up again under thebattleship's quarter, emitting a dense cloud of calcium smoke as it didso. By the time the marine had dropped the Kisbie the ship was aquarter of a mile away from the two swimmers. 

"It's the best we can do, " repeated Bourne as he closed the eyepiece ofhis telescope. "They may fetch it, they are swimming strongly. "

"Well done, Mr. Bourne!" exclaimed a deep voice. 

Turning, the Lieutenant faced the Captain standing beside him. 

"A smart manoeuvre!" continued the skipper approvingly. "We can nowonly carry on; but we'll wireless the Commander-in-Chief Devonport, andreport that there are survivors from the rammed submarine. He'll havea destroyer patrol on the spot within an hour, and I hope it won't betoo late. "

Bourne stepped to the extremity of the bridge and glanced astern. Hiseffort to distinguish the heads of the two swimmers was fruitless, fora thin haze, the smoke from the ship's funnel, spread far in her wake, completely obliterating the spot where Ross Trefusis and Vernon Hayewere swimming for dear life. 

It will be necessary to set back the hands of the clock in order tofollow the fortunes of Ross and his chum. 

"Is she slowing down?" whispered Vernon anxiously, as they stood on thedeck of U75 awaiting the approach of the _Tremendous_. 

"I don't think so, " replied Ross. "But now's our time. "

The attention of Schwalbe and his crew was centred upon the battleship;the Kapitan momentarily expecting to see the huge vessel reel under theimpact of the terrible torpedo, while the men began to entertain gravedoubts as to whether the British ship would accept their token ofsurrender. The fact that the super-Dreadnought showed no signs ofslowing down revived Kapitan Schwalbe's doubts. Knowing the difficultyof hitting, even at a comparatively short range, a swiftly movingtarget, he began to wonder whether he did the right thing in falling inwith von Hoffner's diabolical plan. 

His hurried thoughts were suddenly interrupted by some light objectenveloping his head and shoulders. Before he could tear the fabricaway he heard two distinct splashes, followed by shouts of astonishmentfrom the crew; for with one clean sweep with his knife Ross had severedthe halliards of the ensign staff. 

The lads dived deep, swimming the while with long, powerful strokes, for both were accomplished in the art of natation. They were longer incoming to the surface than they anticipated, owing to the weight oftheir half-boots, which they had been unable to remove without risk ofcausing suspicion. 

When at length their heads emerged almost simultaneously, they foundthemselves nearly fifteen yards from the doomed U75. 

"Strike out!" spluttered Ross. "Get as far away from her as you can. Never mind about old Schwalbe. He can't hurt us. "

Ross was right, for however much the Kapitan wanted to wreak hisvengeance upon his former prisoners, he was unable to do so. In hisrōle as that of an officer waiting to surrender, the possession of arevolver would tend to "give the show away". He had left his pistol inhis cabin--an example that his Unter-leutnant had followed. And nowhis attention was directed upon the British battleship. 

Meanwhile, the lads, swimming strongly, saw the _Tremendous_ heel asshe ported helm. For a minute, not knowing how a ship behaves when thehelm is suddenly put hard over, they thought that the treacherousunterseeboot had successfully carried out her cold-blooded plan. Yetno explosion occurred, and the battleship recovered her normal trim. 

With their eyes only a few inches above the surface, the lads could seenothing of the track of the torpedoes. They had no indication thatthey had been fired until the _Tremendous_ let fly with her 12-pounders. 

"I think we've saved her, " said Vernon. "Now there'll be trouble forus. Schwalbe will certainly have a shot at recapturing us after thebattleship has cleared off. Why doesn't she settle U75, I wonder?"

The lads both expressed astonishment that the motionless unterseeboothad escaped the attention of the super-Dreadnought's quick-firers. Itseemed as if the latter were ignoring U75 altogether and was sheeringoff at full speed. 

Suddenly Ross gave a whoop of delight, which ended in his swallowing amouthful of salt water. The _Tremendous_ was turning once more, andheading straight for the doomed submarine. 

[Illustration: "THE _TREMENDOUS_ WAS HEADING STRAIGHT FOR THE DOOMEDSUBMARINE"]

Mentally Ross compared the on-coming battleship with an express train, as shown on a cinematograph screen, in the act of approaching theaudience. At one moment the ship was visible from her water-line tothe truck of her top-mast; at the next her bulk had suddenly expandedand seemed to fill the complete field of vision. It looked as if thetwo lads, in spite of the distance they had put between themselves andthe motionless submarine, would yet be in the way of the vengefulbattleship, whose extreme beam was not less than ninety feet. 

Yet neither of the two chums made the slightest effort to swim fartheraway. Mechanically treading water, they waited and watched. 

They could see the terror-stricken attitudes of the crew of the doomedU75. They heard the shouts of consternation as the massive steel bowsbore down upon her. Then, in a second it seemed, there was a hideouscrash that outvoiced the yells and shouts of despair as theunterseeboot was rent in twain. 

Of what happened during the next minute the lads had but a very hazyidea. Caught by the irresistible bow wave as the _Tremendous_ torepast, they were hurled aside like feathers and buried a couple offathoms down under the breaking, foaming mass of water. Vaguely theyheard the whirring of the four propellers--very near, it seemed; then, caught by an eddy caused by the cavitation in the wake of the monstrousvessel, they were separated and flung to the surface, half-breathlessand dazed. 

Ross opened his eyes. The _Tremendous_ had already covered nearly aquarter of a mile. Twenty yards away he saw his chum's head, asVernon, puffing like a grampus, was striking out towards him. 

Where the submarine had dived for the last time was an ever-wideningcircle of oil. Those of the German crew who had not been carried downby the sinking unterseeboot were too shaken by the concussion to makeany great effort to save their lives. Attempting to keep afloat inthat oil-covered water added to their difficulties, for whenever thehead of a swimmer disappeared he did not rise again. 

"Kick off your boots, old man, " exclaimed Ross. 

"Where are the lifebuoys?" asked Vernon as he carried out his friend'sadvice. 

One buoy had disappeared; the other was supporting a seaman, the onlysurvivor of the crew. 

"A case of finding's are keeping's, " announced Ross. "We can't slinghim out of it. It might support two people. We could take turns athanging on. "

"Stop!" exclaimed Vernon as Ross began to strike out towards the buoy. "There'll be trouble if we get mixed up in that oil. It's much lighterthan water. I doubt whether we could swim in it. Do you think the_Tremendous_ will put back?"

"Not likely, " replied Trefusis. 

He looked in the direction of the fast-vanishing battleship, halfhoping that she would slow down and lower a boat. As he did so, something caught his eye: a cloud of grey smoke apparently issuing fromthe sea. 

"What's that?" he asked, pointing in that direction. 

"Torpedo, perhaps; one that has finished her run, " suggested Vernon;but his chum waved aside the explanation. 

"If U77 did fire a torpedo, you can bet your bottom dollar it wasn'tone with a dummy head!" he said. "Only practice torpedoes send up acalcium light when their compressed air has given out. By Jove, Ibelieve it's one of those patent buoys! Let's make for it. "

The lads swam strongly, making powerful and comparatively slowbreast-strokes. The water was warm. They were in no immediate dangerof cramp. 

As they skirted the patch of oil they noticed that the seaman holdingon to the buoy had turned round. His face was now in their direction. The man was Hans Koppe. 

"Are you all right, Hans?" shouted Ross. 

"Yes, mein herr, " replied the man. "I've found a buoy. "

"Thanks to us, " thought Trefusis; then raising his voice: "You hadbetter kick out and get clear of the oil, " he advised. "We are makingfor yonder buoy. "

By the time the swimmers reached the Kisbie the emission of calciumsmoke had ceased. They found that not only did the buoy support themboth, but that it was so constructed as to allow them to maintain asitting position without having to hold on with both hands. Glad of aseat they waited, watching the approach of Hans Koppe, and also lookingfor the undesired reappearance of U77. 

"Ach! My wife and children!" exclaimed Hans Koppe disconsolately, ashe brought his lifebuoy close alongside. "I shall never see themagain. "

"Cheer up, Hans!" replied Vernon. "At any moment U77 might come to thesurface and take you on board. We don't mind, so long as they let usalone. We've had enough of your unterseebooten. "

"U77?" gasped the German incredulously. "How do you know that?"

Briefly Haye related the story of the ill-fated Kapitan Schwalbe'streachery. As he proceeded Han's face bore a surprised expression thatpresently changed to one of fear. 

"If we are picked up by an English ship, " he remarked, "they will shootme for abuse of the white flag. And I am innocent. Ach! my poor wife. "

"They won't, " replied Ross reassuringly. "We can swear that you knewnothing about it. "

The minutes passed slowly. There was no sign of U77. Little did thethree survivors know that she lay within a quarter of a mile of herconsort, on the bed of the English Channel--to add to theever-increasing roll of unterseebooten that were fated never to enter aGerman port again. 

The sun rose higher and higher, its rays gathering strength as it didso. The heads of the three survivors were exposed to the solar heat;their bodies and limbs were numbed by prolonged immersion. The desirefor conversation had long since passed. Almost exhausted they hung totheir supports, listless and torpid. A few sea-gulls, struck with thesilence of the three men, hovered overhead, and swooped with shrillcries to settle on the water within close distance of what appeared tobe a possible meal. One bolder than the rest perched upon Trefusis'head. 

Raising his arm, Ross dealt the bird a furious blow. It missed, buthad the effect of scattering the gulls. Apathetically the lad watchedthem as they flew off. As he did so he caught sight of three vesselsbeing driven at high speed. 

"Hurrah!" he exclaimed feebly. "The destroyers, old man; we are saved!"

CHAPTER XIII

The Arm of the Law

"Hulloa! What the deuce have we got here?" enquired Commander Devereuxof H. M. Torpedo-boat destroyer _Yealm_, as three dripping figures weretransferred from the destroyer's dinghy to the deck. "One strafed Hun, right enough; but who are these fellows in mufti?"

"Can't say, sir, " replied the coxswain. "They sort o' collapseddirectly we got 'em into the boat. "

"Then take them below, " continued Devereux. "I say, Fanshawe, there'sa job for you at last, my festive sawbones. "

Fanshawe, lately a young country practitioner with a scattered "panel"connection, had but recently entered the Navy as a surgical probationerR. N. V. R. He joined purely through patriotic motives, having sacrificeda fairly substantial income in order to do so. Up to the present hiswork had been almost a sinecure. The _Yealm_ had not had the faintestchance of taking part in an engagement. Her crew--to use Fanshawe'sown words--were "that beastly healthy, don't you know", that, out ofsheer anxiety to do something, he was learning navigation from theSub-lieutenant. 

The medico undertook his first important professional task on board the_Yealm_ with great alacrity, and it was not long before Ross and Vernonwere in a fit state to be questioned. Hans Koppe was in a bad plight. So utterly shaken were his nerves that he seemed on the point ofcollapse. 

"So you are the son of Admiral Trefusis, " said theLieutenant-Commander. "I can't say that I know him personally, although I know of him. But how did you get on board the submarine?"

Ross explained. He felt hurt at having to do so. TheLieutenant-Commander's ignorance of the disappearance of the two chumsfrom St. Mena's Island "took all the wind out of his sails". Inpre-War days the principal papers would have devoted at least half acolumn to the supposed deaths by drowning, off the Cornish coast, oftwo well-connected youths. Nowadays editors had neither space norinclination to devote to such a comparatively trivial matter. Consequently Devereux could be exonerated of all lack of knowledge ofthe supposed accident. Yet his interest grew as Ross proceeded withhis narrative. 

"Look here, " he remarked. "We've got to dodge around for a few hoursin case your pal U77 does put in an appearance. But I'll wireless theAdmiral and ask for a telegram to be sent to your homes, to let yourpeople know you are still alive and kicking. "

"Better not, sir, " objected Ross. 

Devereux looked curiously at the lad. 

"And why not?" he asked. 

"Well, you see, " explained Trefusis, "a telegram is not such aconfidential matter as one would like it to be, especially in a remotecountry district. "

"It's good news though, " remarked the Lieutenant-Commander. 

"Yes, " admitted Ross; "but it is absolutely necessary to keep it darkfor a while. A few hours won't make very much difference one way orthe other to my people, but it would make a thumping lot to our friendDr. Ramblethorne, otherwise von Hauptwald. If he were to hear that wewere alive, he'd do a bunk. The same with that other spy, von Ruhle. They must be arrested promptly, and within a few hours of each other, in case one of them scents trouble and clears out. "

"I see your point, " admitted Devereux. "I won't send a wireless atpresent. You must be feeling peckish. I'll get my steward to bringyou in some grub. Excuse me, I must be off again. We've a lot toattend to, you know. "

The Lieutenant-Commander went on deck to conduct operations. He wastemporarily senior officer, and it fell to him to issue orders to histwo consorts relating to the investigation of the scene of thebattleship's exploit. 

For two hours the three destroyers cruised over the spot where the twosubmarines were supposed to have sunk. At length wreckage was found bymeans of grapnels. It was, of course, much too deep to send a diverdown to report; but the spot was buoyed, and served as a base whilesweeping operations were proceeded with in the hope of locating thehull of the second unterseeboot. In a very short space of time twooperations undertaken for the purpose of destroying the sunkensubmarine were highly satisfactorily carried out. The first resultedin the release of a small quantity of buoyant wreckage, amongst whichwas the flagstaff of U75. The second brought to the surface a quantityof oil, showing that a submarine had been sunk there, but the injuriesshe previously received had not been sufficient to liberate thecontents of the heavy oil-tanks. The explosive charge had completedthe destruction of U77. 

Just before five in the afternoon, the _Yealm_ and her consorts passedthe eastern arm of the breakwater in Plymouth Sound and brought up inthe Hamoaze. Ross and Vernon, arrayed in borrowed clothes andaccompanied by Lieutenant-Commander Devereux, lost no time in goingashore and proceeding to the offices of the Commander-in-Chief. 

"You are acting with remarkable discretion, " observed the Admiral, whenRoss reiterated his desire not to communicate with his home until thespies were safely under lock and key. "Fortunately there ought to beno undue delay, as we have two expert Scotland Yard men investigating acase in the Dockyard. I'll telephone to the Superintendent of Police, and get him to send the officers here at once. "

Within ten minutes the officers were ushered into theCommander-in-Chief's presence. Ross and Vernon looked at them withconsiderable curiosity. It had not before fallen to their lot to comeinto contact with two real representatives of the famous Scotland Yard. Yet there was little about the appearance to occasion comment. Theywere not in any way disguised. The taller of the two, who wasintroduced as Detective-Inspector Ferret, was about forty years of age. His closely cut hair was dark-brown, with a plentiful sprinkling ofgrey hairs. He wore a beard trimmed naval or "torpedo" fashion, with amoustache. He was dressed in a grey lounge suit, with dark-brown bootsand a golfing cap. There was nothing of a piercing nature about hiseyes, which were of a deep-grey tint. He seemed to be perpetuallybeaming; the lines on his face gave one that impression. 

His companion, Detective Hawke, was a short, thick-set man of aboutthirty-five. He was clean-shaven. His features were ruddy and heavy. There was a bulldog look about his jaw that proclaimed him to be atough customer. His rough, brown, Harris-tweed suit and bowler hatgave him the appearance of a prosperous yeoman rather than a successfultracker of criminals. 

"Now, young gentlemen, " began Mr. Hawke briskly, after theintroductions had been made, "we'll get to business. With yourpermission, sir" (addressing the Admiral), "I will ask Mr. Trefusis togive me his version of the affair. To save time, I feel certain thatMr. Haye will have no objection to going with my colleague and tellinghim his story. That, I must explain, is the best way to eliminate anydiscrepancies. We prefer to make a fair start, and then all ought togo well. "

During the next hour Detective-inspector Hawke was very busy. He madeno written notes. He relied solely upon his marvellous retentivememory, and it was not long before he was in full possession of thefacts of the case. 

His next step was to telephone to St. Bedal. From the police there, helearnt that Dr. Ramblethorne was medical officer to the 4th battalionof a west-country regiment, but that he was temporarily detailed to acton the recruiting staff at Wellington. 

Hawke thereupon telegraphed to Harwich. The Customs officers thereinformed him that the Harwich-Flushing boat service had been suspendedfor nearly a week, owing to the discovery of a hostile mine-field offthe Dutch coast. Sailings were to be resumed that night. A man whogave himself out to be a Dutchman, but who answered to the descriptionof von Ruhle, had applied that morning for a permit to leave thecountry by the night boat. His berth had been booked under the name ofCornelius Vanderhuit. 

"Which one ought we to nab first?" asked Ferret. "We'll have to bevery sharp, or one of them, finding that he is no longer incommunication with his accomplice, would smell a rat and clear out. "

"Under normal conditions I would reply, 'Collar the principal first', "replied Hawke. "It is evident that Ramblethorne, _alias_ vonHauptwald, is the master-spy. Directly he's laid by the heels, thewhole of the organization immediately under his control goes by theboard. But there's this Harwich business. Von Ruhle crosses the NorthSea to-night, unless otherwise prevented. We comprise the otherwise, Ihope. "

"Then it would mean catching the midday express to Waterloo, " remarkedFerret. 

"Could we go with you?" asked Ross. 

The police officers looked rather astonished at the cool request. Likemost professional men, they scouted the idea of amateur assistance whenthe main issue was at stake. 

"Perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea, " remarked Hawke. "You have alreadyshown great discretion in the matter. Most fellows would have made abee-line to the nearest telegraph office and given the whole show away. The only difficulty is--I suppose, by the way, you are not feeling toodone up after your trying experiences?--the only difficulty is, I wasremarking, that von Ruhle might spot you. Look here, Ferret; supposeyou take these young gentlemen, and proceed to Harwich by an ordinarytrain? Keep well out of sight when you arrive at Parkeston Quay, butkeep a sharp eye on the boat. I'll travel from Liverpool Street by theboat train, and see if I can pick out our quarry amongst thepassengers. "

It was a tedious journey from Plymouth to Harwich. Arriving atWaterloo, Ferret took the lads to a quiet hotel and ordered lunch;while Hawke, excusing himself, called in at "the Yard" to report hisnew case to the Chief, and to wait for the Great Eastern boat train. 

The weather had changed completely during the run from the West, forwhen Ferret and the two lads arrived at Parkeston Quay it was rainingheavily, accompanied by half a gale of wind from the east'ard. 

"We've a long wait, " commented Ferret. "Fortunately I know several ofthe Customs officials very well. I'll get them to let you take shelterin their shed. It's almost opposite the berth where the steamergenerally makes fast. You'll be able to watch everyone who goes up thegangway. I'll go on board and speak to the steward. I don't supposewe'll spot friend von Ruhle until the boat train arrives, and by thattime perhaps Hawke will have marked his man. "

Undoubtedly, the wisest course would have been to send other officersto Wellington to arrest Dr. Ramblethorne; but Hawke was out for"kudos". Only a short while ago he had let a wanted man slip throughhis fingers, and had been rapped over the knuckles for it. With theprofessional assistance of Ferret, he hoped to carry out a double_coup_ and arrest both German Secret Service agents, thereby recoveringhis lost prestige. 

Arriving at Liverpool Street he took his ticket, and spent the timeuntil the departure of the boat train in walking up and down theplatform. He had the knack of observing without being observed. Hewould look at a man in quite a casual way; there was no gleam ofintelligence in his eyes as he did so, but little escaped his notice. An hour or two later he could accurately describe his appearance, dress, and mannerisms. 

A minute before the train started, a man answering von Ruhle'sdescription hurried down the platform. He carried a new cane under hisleft arm. In his right hand he held an attaché case with the initialsC. V. 

Hawke waited until he had entered a carriage, then strolled to theother end of the corridor coaches and took his seat. He knew that therun was supposed to be a non-stop one. 

The train started. The detective took his time. He waited for nearlytwenty minutes before he made his way along the corridor, and enteredthe smoking-compartment occupied by the suspect. 

Presently Hawke made a commonplace remark. The stranger repliedstiffly and in rather a deep voice, with a slight foreign accent. 

"An assumed voice, " soliloquized the detective; but undaunted by thechilliness of his reception he again made some remark about the weather. 

Before the train ran through Witham station, conversation wasproceeding briskly. Hawke assumed the rōle of a commercial traveller, and volunteered the information that his brother had just returned fromthe Front. 

The stranger showed no hesitation in discussing the war. Emboldened, the detective tackled the subject of East Coast defences and the futileGerman blockade. 

"He's giving me absolutely false information, " he thought. "Perhapshe's trying to throw me off the scent. I'll put a few questions thatno one but an ignoramus would ask in good faith. If he's trying tobluff me, I'll beat him at that game. "

Presently his fellow-passenger excused himself and, without removinghis luggage, went into the corridor. As soon as he was out of sightHawke took hold of the cane that the stranger had left in the rack. With a grunt of satisfaction he found that it was certainly not aMalacca, but made of metal. 

The train began to slow down. Lifting the blind, Hawke looked out ofthe window. He could just discern a fairly big town, completely indarkness. 

"Manningtree Junction, " said Hawke to himself. "Something on the line, I suppose. H'm, we're stopping. "

With a jerk the train pulled up at the station. The platform wasalmost deserted, for no train was due at that time to stop there. Adoor slammed. Again the detective pulled aside the blind. He was justin time to see his fellow-traveller, accompanied by the guard, disappear into the station waiting-room. 

"He's tumbled to it!" exclaimed Hawke. "He's making off. He's tippedthe guard to set him down. I'm after him!"

He made his way swiftly and stealthily down the platform, and with aquick movement threw open the waiting-room door. 

The sudden transition from the semi-darkness of the platform to thebrilliantly lighted interior of the room temporarily dazzled his eyes. Dimly he was aware that the place was occupied by khaki-clad soldiersstruggling into their equipment, and that in their midst was the guardand the man of whom he was in search. 

"At any rate there is plenty of assistance, " thought Hawke as headvanced to tap the suspect on the shoulder; but before he could attainhis object a deep, stern voice exclaimed:

"Arrest him, men!"

The next instant Detective-inspector Hawke was seized by half a dozenmuscular hands. 

"What's this tomfoolery?" he demanded angrily. "I'm a Scotland Yardofficer, and----"

A roar of laughter burst from the Tommies. Even the subaltern incommand smiled broadly. 

The stranger spoke again. 

"Take him to the guard-room. He is arrested under the Defence of theRealm Act for attempting to elicit information prejudicial to thewelfare of the State. I won't detain the train any longer, guard, although I'll ask you to drop my gear on the platform. "

Still protesting vehemently but ineffectually, the detective wasunceremoniously hustled into an ante-room, used since the outbreak ofthe war as a guard-room for the military in charge of the line. Thedoor was locked upon him. He heard the train rumble out of the station. 

CHAPTER XIV

A Fruitless Quest

From their places of concealment Ross and Vernon watched the boat trainrun alongside the steamer. At last the weary vigil was a thing of thepast. All fatigue was forgotten at the prospect of witnessing thecapture of one of the active members of the German spy system at workin this country. 

For a quarter of an hour everything was in a state of bustle. Therewas a continuous stream of passengers and porters, the latter bendingunder the weight of trunks and boxes as they hurried up the steeplysloping gangway. 

At length the throng thinned. As yet there was no sign either of vonRuhle or of Detective-inspector Hawke. 

A man with his coat collar turned up ran through the driving rain andentered the shed. It was Ferret. 

"Something's gone wrong, " he declared. "I've just had a telephonemessage from my colleague. I'm off to the post-office. If you want meduring the next ten minutes you'll find me there. "

Hawke had at length managed to get a word with his formerfellow-traveller, who happened to be a staff-officer of the Easterncommand. The detective had been under a misapprehension. The officerhad good reason for ordering his arrest; but the comedy threatened totake a serious development. Even when the detective showed hiscredentials the officer was not satisfied. He proposed telegraphing toScotland Yard, but Hawke, mindful of a former failure, induced him notto do so. The detective, who had occasion to contrast unfavourably thesummary powers of arrest under the Defence of the Realm Act with thoseallowed by the Civil Power, was eventually allowed to communicate withhis brother officer at Parkeston Quay. And then the militaryauthorities required a considerable amount of convincing. It looked asif Detective-inspector Hawke would have to remain under arrest untilnext morning. 

While Ferret was losing time and patience in his efforts to release hisconfrčre, Ross and Vernon noticed a man hurrying along the quay. Hewas short and thick-set. He wore a long mackintosh, the collar ofwhich was turned up and helped, with the peak of his cap, to hide hisfeatures. 

Suddenly the man's foot tripped over a ring-bolt. He cursed under hisbreath, but sufficiently loudly for the lads to overhear. 

Ross gripped his companion's arm. The fellow was swearing in German. 

"Von Ruhle!" he whispered. He made a movement as if to issue from hisplace of concealment, but Haye restrained him. 

"Hold on!" he cautioned in a low voice. 

The man paused on the gangway. A partly shaded electric light threw aglare upon his face. He wore a heavy beard and moustache. 

"You're wrong, " whispered Vernon. 

"He's a German, anyhow, " persisted Trefusis. 

The man still hesitated. Then he hailed a seaman. 

"Where is the post office?" he asked. "I wish to telegraph. Is theretime before the boat sails?"

Receiving an affirmative reply the man hurried off. 

"Come on!" exclaimed Ross. 

Neither of the lads had now any doubts as to the man's identity. Thebeard and moustache were false, but the voice was the same--von Ruhle's. 

Keeping close to the wall of the line of sheds, the lads followed thespy at a distance of about fifty feet. More than once von Ruhleglanced furtively over his shoulder, as if suspecting that he was beingtracked. 

Presently a man, reeling along the quay, approached. The spy made noeffort to avoid him. As the inebriated one rolled past he whispered afew words. The effect was instantaneous. Instead of continuing hisway towards the post office, von Ruhle turned and made off abruptly inthe direction of the gate of the Company's premises. 

"An accomplice, " whispered Vernon. "He's been warned. "

They had to wait until the man who had feigned drunkenness haddisappeared. By this time the German had gained a considerabledistance. To get the assistance of the detective was out of thequestion. 

"Come on!" exclaimed Ross, breaking into a run. 

Concealment was no longer necessary. Should occasion arise, therewould be plenty of help forthcoming, for there were several dockpolicemen and soldiers on duty close at hand. 

Von Ruhle had increased his pace into a brisk walk when he heard thenoise of his pursuers. Then he, too, began to run. 

"Stop him!" shouted Trefusis, calling to a group of uniformed menstanding in front of an abattoir. 

Turning, the German made towards the quay-side. He was no match inspeed for his youthful pursuers; but he gained the water's edge beforeRoss headed him off. 

"Give in, von Ruhle!" he challenged. 

The spy recognized the voice of the British lad whom he imagined to bemiles away, on board an unterseeboot. 

With a quick movement, the spy plucked a leather case from his coatpocket and hurled it over the edge of the quay, then, throwing up hisarms, he dropped lifeless upon the rain-sodden ground. 

Rapidly a crowd collected. Amongst them was Detective-inspectorFerret, who, having finished his conversation with his lucklessconfrčre, was leaving the post office when he heard the commotion. 

"Well, what's all this?" he asked brusquely. He bent over the body ofthe spy and flashed a pocket-lamp upon his face. "It's our man, " hecontinued, addressing the lads in an undertone. This remark wasneedless, since they were already certain upon that point. "He's doneus out of a job. Heart disease? No fear: it's poison. Don't waithere. Your work in this direction is done. I have still a fewunpleasant tasks to perform. Cut off to the hotel and await me there. I may be an hour. "

"One moment, " protested Vernon. "We saw von Ruhle heave something overthe quay. It might float; if so, there might be a chance to pick it upby means of a boat. The tide is almost slack. If it has sunk it willbe a diver's task to recover it. "

"'Something' is always unsatisfactory, " remarked Ferret reprovingly. "Was it large, small, heavy, or light?"

"He was so jolly quick that I could hardly see it, " replied Haye. "Ishould think it was about the size of a cigar-case. "

Directing two policemen to remove and take charge of the body, theDetective-inspector accompanied the lads to the edge of the quay. Itwas dead low water. There was hardly sufficient current coming downthe Stour to swing the anchored craft against the wind. Then theinvestigators made a discovery. Although there was a good depth ofwater at the greater extent of the quay, at this spot the mud wasuncovered at the base of the wall, while almost at their feet was aflight of stone steps. 

Ferret descended cautiously and switched on the light of the torch. Almost within arm's length, and partly buried in the slime, was theobject which the spy had thrown away. 

As the detective hooked at it with his stick a hoarse voice shouted:

"Ahoy there! What are you doing with that light?"

Apparently from nowhere a boat ploughed through the mud until its bowswere within a couple of feet of the steps. The next instant Ferret andhis companions were covered by a revolver. 

It was a naval guard-boat, the watchful eye of the officer in chargehaving discovered what he took to be surreptitious signalling. Explanations followed, and were accepted. Ferret, holding therecovered prize, ascended the steps, followed by Ross and Vernon, whilethe boat backed noiselessly away. It was but one more example of theceaseless vigilance of the great, silent Navy. 

Almost dead-beat, Trefusis and his chum made their way to the hotel, had supper, and went straight to bed. Ferret, they decided, could waituntil morning. 

At 6 a. M. Hawke, having secured his release, arrived at Parkeston, having engaged a motor-car to bring him from Manningtree. Already hisvindictiveness towards the military had vanished. He had taken asensible view of the situation. He had played and lost, and the staffofficer was justified in the circumstances. As for the soldiers, theyhad to obey orders. 

Nevertheless he was chagrined when he heard his confrčre's report. Itwas galling to think that their spy had outwitted him by taking his ownlife. The whole energies of the two detectives must, for the present, be concentrated upon the capture of the master-spy, Von Hauptwald, otherwise Dr. Ramblethorne. 

Ross and Vernon met Hawke again at breakfast. He was now quitecheerful. 

"You managed to get hold of von Ruhle so well, " he remarked, "that Ithink you really ought to bear a hand with friend Ramblethorne, --thatis, unless you've had enough of man-hunting?"

"We'll do our best, " said Ross. "It's our duty. "

"When do you start?" asked Vernon. 

"Almost at once, " he declared. "Ramblethorne might be alarmed if notelegram arrives from his fellow-spy. Again, the man who communicatedwith von Ruhle on the quay last night might have given Ramblethornewarning. It's not at all surprising to me, since what you told us, Mr. Trefusis, that there has been an alarming outbreak of enteric at St. Bedal camp. "

He turned over several pages of a complex timetable. 

"Here we are, " he announced. "We must get to Paddington in time tocatch the 10. 20 for Wellington. One thing, young gentlemen, you'll benearly home. Ferret has arranged about the inquest on von Ruhle. Yourevidence will be taken down in writing, and in that case you won't haveto put in an appearance at that grim farce. "

Hawke spoke feelingly and from experience. In his opinion, based uponcircumstantial evidence, "crowner's quests" were a form of legalabsurdity. 

The train journey to Liverpool Street was undertaken almost in silence, as far as the four travellers were concerned. Hawke buried himself inhis paper; Ferret was poring over some document found in von Ruhle'spocket-book, trying to unravel the complex code that, if deciphered, would be of the utmost importance to the country. Ross and Vernon, still feeling tired, tried to make up for arrears of sleep. 

Taking a taxi across London, they were just in time to catch the GreatWestern express, which would take them to Taunton. Arriving at thatplace, they changed into a slow train that eventually landed them atthe little Somersetshire town nestling under the Black Down Hills. 

Without delay the party proceeded to the regimental depot. Enquiriesfor Captain Ramblethorne, R. A. M. C. , only resulted in looks ofperplexity. He was unknown to the authorities. 

"But we heard from St. Bedal that Captain Ramblethorne was ordered toWellington for recruiting duties, " persisted Hawke. 

The orderly-room clerk smiled sadly. 

"Are you quite sure that it was this Wellington?" he asked. "We've hadsimilar mistakes before. "

Detective-inspector Hawke felt like kicking himself. He, too, wasaware of the existence of the Shropshire Wellington, but, withoutgiving the possibility any consideration, he had rashly jumped to theconclusion that the place to which Ramblethorne had been appointed wasthe one nearest to St. Bedal. 

Sorrowfully the four marched out of the office. More delay ensuedwhile a wire was dispatched to St. Bedal, asking for further details. 

It took two hours before the reply came. "Regret not to have addedSalop to Captain Ramblethorne's address. --C. O. "

"It's a long lane that has no turning, " observed Ferret as they madefor the railway station. 

Hawke bit his lip. He knew that had the spy been warned promptly hemight be out of the country by this time. 

It was dark when, after a tedious journey, the four travellers alightedat Wellington, Salop. Here, guarded enquiries elicited the informationthat Captain Ramblethorne had gone to Bridgnorth to examine men "ropedin" at a recruiting meeting. He had left for Bridgnorth two hourspreviously. 

"There are no trains to-night, " announced Hawke. "We'll have to get acar. "

Ten minutes later, Ross and his companions were speeding over thehorribly rough and hilly road between Wellington and Bridgnorth. Pastironworks and coal-fields, over or under a network of railway lines, the car tore; then, leaving the mining district behind, it entered thepicturesque valley of the Severn, where the road skirts a range oftowering limestone crags. 

In spite of their fatigue, the lads could not restrain an exclamationof surprise and delight as the town of Bridgnorth, bathed in moonlight, appeared in sight--a cluster of houses perched upon a bold rock, anddominated by the scanty ruins of the old castle. At the foot of thecliff the Severn meandered placidly. In the midst of the greatest warthe world has ever known, Bridgnorth appeared to retain all thecharacteristics of complete peace. 

The recruiting office was closed for the night. With unerring instinctthe detective made for the principal hotel. Here they found thatCaptain Ramblethorne had engaged a room, but the manager showed them atelegram that had just reached him. 

"Took wrong train cancel room arriving to-morrow morning Ramblethorne. "

"A blind, " mentally ejaculated Ferret. "He has been warned. "

The telegram had been dispatched from Shrewsbury. Ferret was again atfault, for the mistake was a genuine one. It so happened that the twotrains left Wellington at precisely the same time, the one forBridgnorth starting from a side platform. Before he realized hismistake Ramblethorne found himself well on the way to Shrewsbury, forthe train stopped at no intermediate station. 

"Shrewsbury, as hard as you can go!" ordered Hawke, addressing thechauffeur. 

At a pace averaging fifty miles an hour the powerful car bounded overthe road. Without mishap it gained the outskirts of the county town ofShropshire, when an involuntary halt occurred. 

It was on the English Bridge, a comparatively narrow structure crossingthe Severn. A belated drover was driving a herd of refractory cattleinto the town when a motor-bicycle whizzed down the hill. 

The cattle stampeded. With a jerk that almost threw Ferret and Vernonfrom the seat, the car brought up. At the same time the motor-bicycleslowed down, and dexterously avoiding a huge bullock, glided past thestationary car. 

The moonbeams shone directly upon the rider's face as Ross thrust hishead out of the window. The motor-cyclist was Ramblethorne the spy. 

The recognition was mutual. The spy, cool and collected, gave no signof recognition. The next moment he was travelling "all out" along theMuch Wenlock road. 

"That's Ramblethorne!" exclaimed Ross excitedly. 

"Botheration take him!" ejaculated Ferret. "Are we to get no restto-night?"

He opened the window in front of him. Hawke was sitting with thechauffeur. Quickly the detectives arrived at their decision. 

"After that chap!" exclaimed Hawke, addressing the chauffeur; "thatmotor-cyclist who has just passed. Ten pounds if you overhaul and stophim. "

It was the bright moonlight that had tempted Ramblethorne to go for amidnight ride. He was a keen out-of-door man. He could handle almostany make of car or motor-cycle with the utmost skill. Finding himselfat Shrewsbury, he hired a motor-cycle from an agent, intending to havea run along the road following the banks of the Severn as far asIronbridge. It was his practice, whenever in a strange place, speedilyto become conversant with the locality. It was, in fact, part of histraining as a spy. 

Ramblethorne was somewhat taken aback when he saw Ross's face in themoonlight, although he betrayed no sign of surprise. In an instant herealized that, by some means, young Trefusis had escaped from U75;more, he was with a party of men evidently hard on his track. 

Quickly he made up his mind. His career as a medical officer to theBritish Service was ended. He could no longer hope to serve the GermanGovernment in that direction. Before morning a hue and cry would beraised. 

As he swung along the broad, level road he thought out his plans. Hewould ride as hard as he could until his supply of petrol gave out--amatter of about seventy or eighty miles. Then he would abandon andhide the motor-cycle, and make his way on foot to the Essex coast. There, he had means to get on board a nominally British fishing-boat, which would run him over to a Dutch port. 

Although the motor-cycle was travelling at close on forty miles anhour, Ramblethorne glanced back over his shoulder. He hardly expectedto be pursued. If the car had turned to attempt to overhaul him, itwould almost to a certainty take the wider of the two fork roads--thatleading to Wellington. 

Disagreeably surprised, the spy saw the two powerful head-lights of thecar less than a mile behind him. 

The chauffeur of the pursuing vehicle had set his heart on winning thepromised guerdon. "All out" the car bounded along the road, leaving inits trail a dense cloud of dust that slowly dispersed in the moon-litair. 

Hanging on desperately to the sides of the swaying car, Ferret and thetwo lads knelt upon the front seat of the coupe and peered through thedust-flecked glass at the solitary motor-cyclist in front. They weregaining--rapidly at first, but now the gap between lessened almostimperceptibly. 

At that tremendous rate, the bursting of a tyre would result incomplete disaster, yet not one thought did the pursuers give to thedanger they were running. Their sole attention was centred upon thespy. 

A sharp bend close to the village of Cressage enabled the car to getwithin fifty yards of the motor-cyclist. Hawke drew a revolver fromhis pocket. The chauffeur noticed the action out of the corner of hiseye. Purposely he toyed with the sensitive steering-wheel, causing thecar to swerve erratically. 

"Put it up, sir!" he exclaimed, shouting in order to make himself heardabove the roar of the wind over the screen. "If you bring him downwe'll smash up on top of him before we can pull up. We'll have him onHarley Bank right enough. "

A sharp run down through the village of Harley brought the car withinsight of a very steep hill, up which the road wound like a silverthread against the black slope. This was Harley Bank, one of thesteepest of many stiff Shropshire hills, its gradient averaging one inseven. 

Up mounted the motor-cycle. Ramblethorne was attempting to take it onhigh gear. 

The chauffeur of the car took no risks. He promptly dropped intosecond gear, with the result that the gap between them increased tonearly a hundred yards. Then the motor-cycle began to falter. PerhapsRamblethorne was not thoroughly acquainted with the mechanism of thetwo-speed. By the time he got the friction-clutch into action the carhad more than regained the lost distance--and the fugitive had not yetreached the stiffest part of the hill. 

"Head him off--jam him up against that bank!" ordered Hawke. 

"What for, sir?" asked the chauffeur. He had no objection to takingpart in a midnight chase, but his sense of prudence told him that itwas not advisable to deliberately smash up another vehicle. 

"He's a spy, " replied Hawke. "Don't hesitate. I will take all risks. "

Fifteen seconds later the near front wheel of the car was abreast ofRamblethorne's back wheel. Hawke leant sideways with the intention ofgripping the motor-cyclist by the collar, since the relative speedswere practically the same. At the same moment the car edged a littlecloser to the left-hand side of the road. 

Ramblethorne realized the danger. A collision would with almostcertainty result in his receiving a broken neck; capture meantignominious death at the hands of a firing-party. There was yet athird alternative--a dash for safety. 

He threw out the clutch and applied both brakes, at the same timebringing the motor-cycle on to the grassy bank. He alighted on allfours, but almost immediately regained his feet. The car was alreadytwenty yards on ahead and still in gear. 

He grasped his cycle by the handle-bars and raised it from itsrecumbent position. One look showed that the glancing impact had bentthe front forks. The machine was no longer rideable. Withouthesitation he sprang up the bank. As he did so he heard the footfallsof his pursuers. 

"Be steady!" cautioned Ferret, as Ross and Vernon alighted from thecar. "He may be armed. We're the people to take the brunt of it--notyou. "

They were now within a few feet of the summit of the road, which atthis spot ran through the hill by means of a cutting. Close by werethree excavations. Someone had evidently attempted to commencequarrying there, but had abandoned the undertaking. As far as thedetective could conclude, these pits formed the only possiblehiding-place in the vicinity. 

"Hist!" exclaimed Hawke, holding up one hand to enjoin silence. 

All was still. No sound of stealthily retreating footsteps reachedtheir ears. Hawke knelt down and placed one ear to the ground. 

"Someone breathing pretty hard, " he whispered. "He can't be very faraway; in one of these holes most likely. Perhaps he's hurt himself. "

An investigation of the first possible hiding-place produced no result. At the second Ross heard a long-drawn sigh, emanating from a patch ofbushes and tall grass. 

"Here you are!" he exclaimed. 

The place was in shadow, yet he could discern some dark object lying atfull length in the midst of the grass. 

In a trice the two detectives threw themselves upon their prey. For aninstant the man struggled wildly. Ross and his chum joined in thefray, each hanging on desperately to his plunging legs. Ignominiouslyhe was dragged from his place of concealment into the bright moonlight. 

Ferret was the first to give a gasp of astonishment. Their victim wasnot Ramblethorne the spy, but a powerfully built tramp, who, findinghimself released, began to expostulate with alarming vehemence. 

"Stop that!" exclaimed Hawke authoritatively. "We are police officers. If you don't behave we'll take you in charge for sleeping out withoutvisible means. "

The fellow, cowed into silence, slunk away. 

"Confound it!" ejaculated Ferret. "We've let Ramblethorne slip awayunder our very noses. He'll be clear by this time. "

"I'm afraid so, " agreed Hawke ruefully; then turning to the chauffeurhe told him to drive into the nearest village, which happened to beMuch Wenlock. 

Here Ross and Vernon were able to secure a room at an inn, while theScotland Yard men were busy at the little police station, getting adescription of the spy issued through the countryside. 

Next morning the lads set out on their return journey to KilligwentHall. 

CHAPTER XV

The Admiral Works the Oracle

"Look here, old man; what do you say about having a shot for the NavalReserve?" asked Ross. "In ordinary circs I would be prepared to gothrough Sandhurst, but this isn't ordinary circs. Before we pass out, the war will be over perhaps. "

"I'd rather like to see something of the fun, " agreed Vernon. 

"As if we hadn't already, " added his chum. "But I know what you mean. Instead of being cooped up in an unterseeboot and hunted by ourfellows, we want to have a hand in rounding up the German submarines. I vote we write to our respective governors about it. "

This conversation occurred two days after the lads' return toKilligwent Hall. They had been given up as lost, and their unexpectedreturn had caused unbounded rejoicings. Pressmen thronged the Hall togather "exclusive" information of the manner of their seeminglymiraculous rescue, but both Ross and Vernon were determined not tosatisfy outside curiosity. They even kept the story of how the whiteflag fluttered down from the signalling mast of U75 from theirimmediate friends. 

"It will take a long time for us to get a reply, " objected Vernon. "Bythe time the letters hang about at the G. P. O. , before they are sent tothe fleet, a week will elapse, and before we get a reply bang goes awhole fortnight. Let's get hold of a Navy List and see what thequalifications are. "

A careful perusal of the regulations resulted in a setback. Midshipmenin the R. N. R. , they found, had to be between 16 and 18 years of age, and must either have passed through a course of instruction for twoyears on board an "approved" training ship, or else one year on board afirst-class British merchant ship. 

"That's put the hat on it, " declared Ross. 

"One minute, " interposed Vernon. "Why not write to Admiral Garboard?He's an old shipmate of my governor's, and I know he's a bit of a potup at Whitehall, although he's on the Retired List. "

"He was with my pater in the old _Rhodaphlare_ on the China station, "added Ross. "We'll try; the wheeze might work. "

Accordingly Vernon wrote to the Admiral, who lived about twenty milesfrom Killigwent Hall. Promptly came Sir Peter Garboard's reply:

"TRELANGKERRICK, " CORNWALL. 

"DEAR VERNON, "In reply to your letter I am sorry that I cannot help you in thematter to which you refer, unless you and your friend can producesufficient evidences of qualifications for the desired posts. 

"On principle I object to influence in any shape or form. Entry intoany branch of the Service should, like promotion, depend solely uponthe aptitude and ability of a candidate. This has been my standpointthroughout the whole of my career, and I see no reason why I should nowdepart from it. 

"If, however, you think you have strong reasons for pressing yourclaims, and you care to see me, we will go more fully into the matter. 

"Believe me, "Yours faithfully, "PETER GARBOARD. "

"Not so dusty, " commented Ross. "He does leave us a loophole, althoughI'm afraid we'll have to blow our own trumpets. I vote we cycle overat once. We'll catch him in just before lunch. "

"Better wait until after he's had his grub, " said Vernon. "That'salways the time to get a man in a good humour. "

"We'll risk that, " declared young Trefusis. "Come on. "

It was a very hilly twenty miles run across the moors toTrelangkerrick. Starting at ten in the morning it took the lads twohours and a quarter, in the face of a strong south-westerly breeze, tocover the distance. 

Half-way up the drive, they saw the Admiral and a companion emergingfrom a path leading from the kennels. 

"Hulloa!" exclaimed Sir Peter cordially, as he recognized Vernon Haye. "So you haven't marked time in coming to see me. This is youngTrefusis, I presume? Glad to meet you. Knew your father very wellback in the 'eighties. Hope to renew the acquaintance soon, you know. If it hadn't been for the war----"

Admiral Garboard had taken Trelangkerrick only since the declaration ofhostilities; consequently he had had no opportunity of meeting AdmiralTrefusis, who, since July of the previous year, had been continuously"somewhere in the North Sea". 

"Cecil, my boy, " he continued, addressing his companion, a tall, sunburnt man, in shooting garb although his clean-shaven features andslightly rolling gait proclaimed him to be a sailor. "Let me introducethe sons of two of my old shipmates to you. Ross Trefusis and VernonHaye--my nephew, Cecil Bourne. You'll stay to lunch, of course. Cecil's on three days' leave. He's not satisfied with hunting Germansubmarines, but must needs go after my rabbits. "

They walked towards the house, Ross and Bourne leading, and the Admiraland Vernon bringing up the rear. 

"We'll discuss this little matter after lunch, my boy, " remarked theAdmiral. 

The meal proceeded without a hitch, the Admiral in his breezy wayrelating anecdote after anecdote of the Service in the good old days. 

"By the by, " he remarked, "what's this yarn I hear about yourneighbour, Dr. Ramblethorne? There's a report that a warrant has beenissued for his arrest. "

"For espionage, I believe, " replied Vernon. 

"Bless my soul! Is that a fact? One doesn't know whom to trust inthese days. No details, I suppose. A decent fellow, too, from what Isaw of him. No, I don't think you've met him, Cecil, at least nothere. By the by, you might tell the boys about your little adventureup-Channel in the _Tremendous_. "

Ross and Vernon turned very red in the face, but as they sat with theirbacks to the window the change of colour passed unnoticed. 

"Oh, that submarine business!" remarked Lieutenant Bourne modestly. "Just an ordinary occurrence, don't you know, except for one thing. Iwas officer of the watch at the time. We spotted a strafedunterseeboot flying a white flag. Have to be jolly careful, you see. Either give the thing a wide berth, and wireless the destroyers to takepossession of the prize, or else cut the brute in two. Anyhow, something funny did happen. There were two fellows in mufti standingclose to the skipper on the submarine's deck. Goodness only knows whythey did it, but I saw one of them----"

"Cut the halliards and let the white flag down, " interposed Vernon. 

There was dead silence in the room. Only intense excitement wasresponsible for young Haye's lapse of manners. The words had slippedfrom him almost unconsciously. Ross barked his shin as a gentlereminder. 

"By Jove! How did you know that?" demanded Bourne. "Shouldn't havethought that the yarn had had time to travel very far. Hope I haven'tbeen boring you?"

Vernon took his courage in his hands. 

"It was Ross who cut the halliards, " he announced. "We were both onboard, and jumped overboard just in time, and got hold of a lifebuoydropped from the _Tremendous_ as she passed. "

"By Jove!" ejaculated the Lieutenant. "I am surprised. I wonderedwhether you were picked up. It was a jolly plucky action. But how didyou get on board the unterseeboot?"

"Aye, out with it!" added the Admiral. "I heard that you were missing, of course, and also of your return. Truth to tell, I thought when Igot your letter that the pair of you had been acting the goat, and hadrun away to sea and had thought better of it. "

"We didn't run, sir, we were carried, " explained Ross. "And Dr. Ramblethorne was responsible for it. "

Admiral Sir Peter Garboard was not satisfied until he had heard thecomplete story of his young friends' adventures. When they hadfinished he turned to his nephew. 

"Young Haye and his chum came to see me on a private matter, " heremarked, "but I don't think they will object to your hearing what wehave to say. "

"Are you quite sure you won't?" asked Bourne, addressing the lads. 

"Both Trefusis and Haye are supposed to be going in for Sandhurst, "continued Sir Peter. "Although, candidly speaking, I don't see why anaval man should want to put his son in the Army. "

"In my case it is only following a family precedent, " said Ross. "Forgenerations back the eldest son has alternately been in the Navy andArmy. "

"And in my case it is the force of circumstances, " added Vernon. "WhenI was of the age to be sent to Osborne I was a puny little chap. Thedoctor wouldn't pass me. "

"You've altered a bit since then, I can see, " remarked Bourne. "Youlook as strong as a young horse now. "

"Yes, I've grown out of my early ailments, I think, " said Vernon. 

"Pity the doctor hadn't passed you, " said Sir Peter bluntly. "Ten oreleven is too young an age for any medical man to express a finalopinion upon. I remember a fellow in the Service who was nearly blindon one eye and almost as deaf as a post. He got through themedical--influence, I expect. Anyway the Navy was none the worse forit. You'll remember him by name, Cecil: he was my secretary on theChina Station. Funny thing about him was that he couldn't see to readred figures unless he looked through a green glass. Do you know thatwhen I received your letter I imagined that your temporarydisappearance had something to do with your running away to sea?"reiterated the Admiral. "The idea, I believe, comes to most boysalmost as a matter of course; something like measles, in fact. "

"Well, now we've had a taste of submarine work, we feel that it is hightime we had a hand at helping to collar the German unterseebooten, "explained Ross. 

"I think it could be arranged, " remarked the Admiral. "You haven't hadactual experience, of course----"

"Eh!" exclaimed Bourne. "By Jove, Uncle, I should say they had!"

"From a strictly professional standpoint, I ought to have said, onlyyou didn't give me time, " added Sir Peter. "I'll write off to theAdmiralty to-night and see if I can get you both into the R. N. R. Youare too young to receive commissions as Sub-lieutenants, but no doubtyou can be taken on as midshipmen. Stringent regulations go by theboard in war-time. Isn't that so, Cecil?"

"They would probably be appointed to an armed liner for patrol duty, "observed Bourne. "There are, I believe, no midshipmen on the trawlersand motor-boats in submarine-hunting. "

"We must take what we can get, " said Vernon, "but we would rather----"

"Yes, yes, " interrupted the Admiral. "I know. You leave that to me. "

Accordingly Ross and Vernon "left it to" the genial Sir Peter, with theresult that within a week they were specially appointed as temporarymidshipmen to the motor-patrol ship _Capella_. 

CHAPTER XVI

H. M. S. "Capella"

With the least possible delay the two chums joined the _Capella_ atSouthampton. She was one of an entirely new class of vessel, built forthe express purpose of ridding the high seas of the presence of themodern pirates. Looking at her as she lay in the Empress Dock, therewas little about her to attract the eye. A raised fo'c'sle and poop, and a low superstructure abaft the funnel, two stumpy masts andgrey-coloured "wall" sides, gave her the appearance of a trawler. Itwas only when one had an opportunity of seeing her in dry dock, whereher graceful under-body, with its fine "entry" and clean run aft, wasvisible, that any idea of her speed could be arrived at. Furtherdetails would be undesirable. Sufficient to add, to quote a Yankeejournalist who had been given an opportunity of paying a visit to theGrand Fleet and inspecting the component units of the greatest armadathat the world has yet seen, the class to which she belonged were "someboats". The exigencies of the hitherto unprecedented method ofcarrying out the naval side of the Great War had demanded the creationof large flotillas of small motor-driven hornets. In the initialstages the want was temporarily supplied through the patriotism ofowners of private motor-boats. These craft, good in their way, werehandicapped by a lack of uniformity. Nevertheless they served as anexcellent training-school until the Admiralty with remarkable celerityproduced the novel type of craft to which the _Capella_ belonged. 

The _Capella_ carried a large crew in proportion to her size--fourofficers and twenty-four men. Her skipper was Stanley Syllenger, whoheld the rank of Lieutenant-Commander, R. N. R. He was a big, bluff manof about thirty-five, a strict disciplinarian, and a stickler for duty. He could be very outspoken when he wanted, which was fairly frequently, but withal he was of a thoroughly good-natured disposition. 

There were two Sub-lieutenants, R. N. R. The senior was John Barry, avery mild type of young officer. He usually spoke in a very softvoice, except when occasion warranted, when he could bellow in a waythat would take a stranger entirely by surprise. It seemed incrediblethat such a bull voice could belong to such a dapper little man as JohnBarry. 

The other Sub was Noel Fox--a tall, deep-chested fellow of twenty, boisterous, and full of spirits. In five crowded years he had gained agood knowledge of three oceans, and a nodding acquaintance with theremaining two. Beginning his career on board a five-masted sailingship, he had served in tramps, "intermediates", and mail steamers untilthe outbreak of the war, when he found himself appointed to an armedliner that abruptly terminated her existence by trying conclusions witha German mine. 

Captain Syllenger and Sub-lieutenant Barry were pacing the diminutivequarter-deck of the _Capella_ as she lay alongside the quay. Theskipper had heard officially that morning of the appointment of twotemporary midshipmen to the craft under his command. "Hanged if I canunderstand it, Barry!" he exclaimed in his outspoken manner. "What'sthe idea of turning the _Capella_ into a nursery, I should like toknow! These youngsters are somebody's pigeons, I suppose. The usualyarn. Influence up topsides does the trick, and we're saddled with tworaw lubbers. "

"There is no mention of their having had previous sea-service, sir?"remarked Barry. "But perhaps they'll turn out fairly smart. "

"They will, " added the Lieutenant-Commander grimly; "that is, if I haveanything to do with them for any length of time. But, by Jove! herethey are, unless I'm much mistaken. "

Looking rather self-conscious in their brand-new uniforms, Ross andVernon doubled down the steeply sloping gangway. As they came aboard, Syllenger noted with professional satisfaction that they both salutedthe quarter-deck. The action showed, by one thing at least, they werenot the greenhorns he expected to receive. 

"You have had no previous experience, I believe?" he asked, after themidshipmen had introduced themselves. 

"Very little, beyond knocking about in yachts and boats, " replied Ross. 

"That's something, " decided the skipper. "A fellow who starts hiscareer in a small boat has the makings of a good seaman. It is rareindeed that a man who goes straight to sea in a steamship makes a smartman in a boat. If ever you go on patrol duty you'll find yourexperience of value. By the by, I suppose you know our particular job?"

"Yes, sir, " replied Ross. "Hunting submarines. "

"Ever seen one?" asked Syllenger abruptly. 

"Several of the D and E classes manoeuvring in Plymouth Sound. "

"But a German one?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Where?"

"We've both spent nearly a week on board an unterseeboot, sir. "

The skipper sternly regarded the two midshipmen. 

"Look here, " he said. "If you think you've come on board to gammon me, the sooner you get that idea out of your heads the better. There's noroom on the _Capella_ for a pair of modern Ananiases. "

Ross said nothing. From the outside left breast-pocket of his"undress" coat he produced a white foolscap envelope, bearing in bluethe "foul anchor" badge of the Admiralty. 

The Lieutenant-Commander took the proffered envelope somewhatsuspiciously. He more than half expected that it was a letter ofintroduction from a high official at Whitehall, on the strength ofwhich the two midshipmen felt inclined to "put on side". 

Instead, he found that it contained an autograph letter from theAdmiralty, thanking the lads for their bravery and presence of mind, whereby they materially assisted in the preservation of H. M. S. _Tremendous_ and in the destruction of two of the enemy submarines. The document finished by congratulating Ross and Vernon on their escapefrom U75, and trusted that their career as midshipmen of the R. N. R. Would be marked with success. 

Syllenger read it through carefully and slowly, deliberately returnedit to the envelope, and handed it back to Ross. Then he held out hishand. 

"I'm sorry for what I've said, " he declared simply. "Forget it, if youcan. Come and lunch with me at one bell. "

"Thank you, sir, " replied Ross in answer to the invitation; then, aftera pause, he added: "we didn't want to brag about it, but you made us. "

"So I understand, " said the skipper. "I've misjudged the pair of you, but the least said about my part of it the better, I fancy. "

He hailed a couple of men, instructing them to strike the midshipmen'sluggage down the companion-ladder. Ross and Vernon followed, to beintroduced to their new quarters. 

Owing to the _Capella's_ shallow draught, the cabin space was ratherlimited. The Captain's quarters were a double cabin, comprising astate-room and sleeping-room, in a deck-house under the bridge. Thetwo Subs had each a small "dog-box", as they termed it, aft on thestarboard side. The engineer had a similar cabin on the port side. Adjoining his quarters was another cabin, which had hitherto been usedas an overflow receptacle for officers' luggage. This had now beencleared out, and hooks provided for the two midshipmen to sling theirhammocks. The slinging and unlashing of the hammocks was performed bya servant, to whom Ross and Vernon had each to pay ten shillings amonth for the privilege. During the day the cabin made a fairlycomfortable room, although the furniture was Spartan-like in itssimplicity. 

At six bells (11 a. M. ) the _Capella_, having replenished her fuel andstores, and made good slight defects, was "tracked" out of the dock. An hour later she left Southampton, bound for a rendezvous off BeachyHead, near which a U-boat had been reported to have made anunsuccessful attack upon a swift merchant vessel. 

The run down Southampton Water was necessarily performed atquarter-speed, for in spite of her light displacement the _Capella's_wash at full speed was almost equal to that of a liner. Even as itwas, a long line of white foam lashed itself upon the mudflats severalminutes after she had passed. 

When Calshot Castle was abreast, speed was increased to 30 knots. There was an easterly breeze blowing against the ebb-tide, with theresult that quite a choppy sea was met with outside Southampton Water. Like a knife, the sharp cutwater of the _Capella_ cleft the waves, sending up showers of white spray; but such was her speed that, beforethe wind could carry the spindrift on deck, the swift vessel was beyondthe cascade of foam. She hardly felt the motion of the waves; indeed, she was so steady that it was possible to place a pail of water on deckwithout any of the contents being spilt by the "lift" of the ship. 

Under the guidance of Noel Fox, the midshipmen made the round of thevessel, the Sub explaining everything to them in detail. Already thelads had taken a great fancy to the Sub, and Fox reciprocated thesentiment. He had a way about him that enabled him to give particularsof the most intricate mechanism without having to resort to dry, parrot-like instruction. 

By the time he had explained the ingenious devices used to entrap theGerman unterseebooten, Ross and Vernon felt inclined to marvel how itwas they found themselves on board the _Capella_, since only sheer goodluck had saved U75 from being doomed during every hour of their briefand involuntary detention. 

"Yes, we can mop up the German submarines quicker than they can turnthem out, " said the Sub. "Of course I don't mean to say that a few ofthem won't get a smack at some of our ships for some time to come; butall the same we are giving them beans. From a strictly professionalpoint of view we would be sorry if Old Turps abandoned his 'effectual'blockade. Our chances of having a high old game with theunterseebooten would be considerably reduced. "

"There are still some in the English Channel, " hazarded Vernon. 

"Yes, a few; but have you noticed how those fellows fight shy of Dover?They shun it like the plague. It's horribly unhealthy for them. D'yeknow why? Perhaps you wouldn't have paid much attention to it, butsome months ago the Admiralty issued a 'Notice to Mariners', statingthat the Straits of Dover were heavily mined, and that all shipping wasto pass through the Downs within three miles of the Kentish coast. 

"So it's fairly safe to assume that the few stray unterseebooten thatare still lurking in the Channel have made the passage round the northcoast of Scotland. It's only a matter of time before we bag the lot, Ifancy. "

"And our submarines?" enquired Ross. 

"Have fewer opportunities since the Hun battleships and cruisers havesuch a decided inclination to remain in harbour, " rejoined Fox. "Whenthere's a chance, you can bet your bottom dollar that our fellows seizeit. Quite recently one of our submarines found herself alone anddisabled in the Bight of Heligoland. Undismayed, herlieutenant-commander signalled to a passing German trawler, covered herwith his guns, and made the Hun tow the crippled submarine into Britishwaters. Then he released his involuntary benefactor, but before sodoing can you guess what he did?"

"No, " replied both lads. 

"Made the Huns line up on deck and sing the 'Hymn of Hate'. You canimagine the surprise of the trawler's men, who, judging by thetreatment meted out to our fishermen by the German submarines, expectednothing less than imprisonment and the loss of their boat. But it'sclose on one bell, " remarked Fox at length. "You're messing with theskipper to-day, I believe. He's quite a decent sort when you know himproperly, but it takes a bit of doing. "

A seaman strode up to the bell and gave it a sharp stroke. Just then amessenger hurried from the diminutive "wireless" room abaft thechart-house and, leaping down the ladder at a single bound, knocked atthe door of the Captain's cabin. 

"Stow those things away, Sparkes, " exclaimed Captain Syllenger. "Lunchwill have to wait. "

He dashed out of his cabin. On the way to the bridge he passed Fox andthe two midshipmen. 

"You'll have to tighten your belts, my lads, " he announced. "We'vejust had a message through. A strafed unterseeboot has been spottedtrying to get into Spithead. If we don't nab her within half an hour, I'll eat my hat!"

CHAPTER XVII

A Double Bag

It was a sea-plane, flying at fifteen hundred feet above the Warner andThe Nab Lightships, that had detected an elongated shadow creepingstealthily over the shingly bottom close to the Dean Tail Buoy. Theshadow was that of a German unterseeboot, since none of the Britishsubmarines were known to be in the eastern approaches to Spithead. Evidently she had gone out of her course, for instead of being in themain channel she was well to the north of it. More than likely thestrong east-going tide, which hereabout surges at such a rate that itcauses the shingle 30 or 40 feet beneath the surface to emit a deeprumble, had taken the unterseeboot in its grip. 

Promptly the sea-plane wirelessed the news, and quickly a "generalcall" was sent to the patrol vessels in the vicinity. The _Capella_was one of the craft that picked up the welcome order. 

She was now only seven sea miles distant from the Dean Tail Buoy. Within ten minutes of the receipt of the wireless she was on thespot--one of the very first of a regular hornet flotilla bent uponadding yet another of Von Tirpitz's pets to the "bag". 

For the next quarter of an hour it looked as if a novel kind of marinewaltz was in progress. Nearly a score of swift vessels were executingfantastic movements at full speed, circling and interchanging positionsuntil it seemed as if collisions were impossible to avoid. 

Their object was to thoroughly bewilder the already doomed U-boat, for, if possible, her capture in a practically intact condition was desired. In very deep water, salvage of a sunken submarine was out of thequestion; here, in a comparatively shallow depth, and close to animportant naval base, to which the prize could be taken with littletrouble, the opportunity for capture rather than instant destructionwas too good to be missed. 

Suddenly a cloud of white smoke shot up from the sea. Its appearancewas greeted by hearty cheers from the patrol vessels. It was a signalthat the U-boat, in her attempt to find deep water, had flounderedblindly into the trap. Over and over again the hunters passed, towingnon-explosive grapnels, until it was certain that the prey was helplessin their toils. 

Then, in obedience to an order from the senior officer, the swiftvessels withdrew for nearly three cables' length from the spot wherethe boat lay. Two slow but powerfully engined trawlers approached at acable's length abreast, towing the bight of a massive steel hawserbetween. Doing little more than drift with the tide they crept pastthe submerged U-boat, one on either side of the mark-buoy thatindicated her position. 

Presently the strain on the hawser increased. It was only by makingfull use of the twin-screws that the trawlers were able to preventthemselves from swinging together. The steel rope stretched until itresembled two metal bars which bore silent testimony to the strain. 

Just then the two vessels shot ahead. Although the hawser was stillintact, it no longer took any strain. But its work was done. Thebight, engaging the conning-tower of the unterseeboot, had turned thesubmarine on its side. In the space of a few seconds the deadly fumesfrom the capsized batteries had almost painlessly accounted for thecrew of the U-boat, who themselves had neither pity nor considerationfor the hapless victims, men, women, and children, massacred againstall dictates of humanity and convention of civilized warfare. 

"A bit of work for the dockyard lighters to-morrow, " commentedSub-lieutenant Barry, as the _Capella_ parted company to resume her runup-Channel. "They'll raise the U-boat, and take her into dry dock, before the sulphuric acid has had time to do much damage to hermechanism. "

"I shouldn't be surprised if there were another U-boat knockingaround, " remarked Vernon. "From our limited experience we know thatthey work either in pairs or threes. "

"Then the worse for them, " rejoined Barry. "It would be a great wheezeto bag two of them in one day. Desperate diseases need desperateremedies, you know. "

Therein the Sub voiced the unanimous opinion of the British Navy. Atthe commencement of the war, the torpedoing of several battleships andcruisers by German submarines aroused no enmity within the hearts ofthe British tars. They realized that a warship is "fair sport" to thesubmarines of the opposing side. To run the risk of being blown up wasone of the excitements to undergo in the course of duty. But when itcame to torpedoing helpless merchantmen, and jeering at thedeath-struggles of the unfortunate crews, Jack Tar began to regard theunterseebooten in the light of pirates and murderers. The wantondestruction of the _Lusitania_, accompanied by the appalling death-rollof non-combatants, women and children, literally sounded thedeath-knell of the crews of von Tirpitz's jolly-Roger-flyingsubmarines. In their methods of "frightfulness" they had overreachedthemselves. They had sown a wind: they were now reaping a whirlwindwith a vengeance. 

And now the great silent Navy was paying back von Tirpitz in almost, but not quite, his own coin. While the much-advertised blockade ofGreat Britain was petering out, British submarines were playing havocwith German shipping in the Baltic--a sea which the Teutons regarded asbeing almost their very own. Yet what a difference marked the methodsadopted by the humane commanders of our submarines when dealing withGerman mercantile shipping. A punctilious regard for the safety of thecrews of overhauled merchantmen won admiration even from the seamen ofthe destroyed vessels. Humiliation and reproach seemed to haunt thewhite-bearded dotard, whose hands had sought in vain to wrest thetrident from Britannia's virile grasp. 

At about five in the afternoon the _Capella_ arrived at her station offBeachy Head, relieving her sister ship the _Markab_, that, with threeother motor-driven craft, had been engaged in a vigorous, but for themost part uneventful, patrol. 

Day and night for a fortnight at a stretch, unless anything unforeseentook place, the _Capella_ was to cruise up and down, keeping a smartlook-out for any sign of an object resembling a hostile periscope. Inorder to economize her fuel supply her speed was reduced to 10 knots. It was then that her bad qualities showed themselves. With her shallowdraught and high freeboard she rolled like a barrel, since speed wasessential to impart steadiness. The motion was certainlydisconcerting, although it did not imply that the _Capella_ wasunseaworthy. 

"'Fraid our chances of bagging another U-boat to-day are off, " remarkedBarry to Ross. 

It was within half an hour of sunset. The chums had been temporarilyseparated. It was Vernon's "watch below". The senior Sub and youngTrefusis were on the bridge. In spite of the still-prevailing eastwind it was a grand evening. Three miles away, broad on the starboardbeam, the chalk cliffs known as the Seven Sisters were beginning to betinted by the crimson hues of the western sky. To seaward, three largevessels were in sight. One, a liner bound down-Channel, was peltingalong at such a pace with the wind that the smoke from her funnels wasrising almost perpendicularly. Forging ahead in the opposite directionwere two big tramps, the smoke from their funnels, beaten down by thestrong breeze, trailing across the surface of the water for a couple ofmiles in their wake. 

"An object lesson, " remarked Barry. "The arteries of the Empire. Hangit all! The blockade reminds me of a pigmy treacherously stealing upbehind a giant and trying to cut his jugular vein. Instead, he merelyscratched a comparatively unimportant capillary, and feels mighty sorryfor himself when the giant turns and scruffs him by the neck. "

Leaning over the bridge-rails, the Sub startled his companion bybellowing in a voice loud enough to be heard a mile away:

"On look-outs! Stand by bow and stern lights!"

The _Capella_ was making preparations for the night. Unlike the armedmerchantmen that are compelled to scour the North Sea, summer andwinter alike, without showing the faintest glimmer of a lamp, the_Capella_ observed the rules and regulations for preventing collisionat sea. Her port, starboard, and bow lamps were lighted byelectricity, but, in order to guard against possible break-down ofcurrent, oil lamps had also to be trimmed and lighted, ready, shouldoccasion serve, to take their places. 

It was part of Ross's duty to report to the officer of the watch thatthese lamps were in order, and also, at regular intervals, that thenavigation lights were burning brightly. 

Presently the Sub prepared to take a cross-bearing. He was fairlycertain that the _Capella_ had reached the westernmost limit of herpatrol-ground. From that point she was to proceed due south for 10 seamiles, and then due east for 20 miles until she fell in with her"opposite number". 

While Barry was thus engaged, Ross noticed a sail about 2 miles distanton the starboard quarter. 

"By Jove!" he muttered as he brought his glass to bear upon thestranger. "That's a funny rig. "

The craft was a "two-sticker". She was square-rigged on the foremast, carrying fore-topsail and fore-course. No jibs were set; neither, asfar as he could see, was any sail set on the mainmast. The vessel'ssides were painted green with a broad red band. 

Even as he kept the craft under observation she starboarded her helm, shaping a course that would converge upon that of the rearmost of thetwo tramps. By so doing she exposed a considerable portion of herbroadside. 

Ross gave an exclamation of astonishment. Above the green sidesappeared what was undoubtedly the conning-tower and housed periscope ofa submarine. "Submarine on the starboard quarter, sir!" he reported. 

"What!" exclaimed Barry, levelling his telescope. "By Jove, yes! Whatluck!"

The unterseeboot had, of course, noticed the _Capella_, and hadmistaken her for a trawler. She realized that she ran a risk in casethe latter might be armed, but, trusting to her disguise, she hoped toget within torpedo range of the tramp--a vessel of over 3000 tons--sinkher, and make her escape in the confusion that was bound to ensue. Onthe other hand, her Kapitan had good reasons for thinking that thesupposed trawler was not one of the armed patrol, since they usuallyworked in company. By rigging canvas bulwarks and setting sail upondummy masts, he was able to approach with little fear of detection. 

"Action!"

Quickly the _Capella's_ crew were at their stations. The quick-firerswere loaded, and their screens lowered so as not to impede their arc offire. Until these preparations were complete the vessel still held onher course. 

Then Captain Syllenger, who had come on deck, telegraphed for fullspeed ahead. Like a racehorse the _Capella_ leapt forward. 

A double, converging line of white foam marked the track of a torpedofrom the doomed U-boat. By a slight alteration of helm the _Capella_avoided it. The action was hardly necessary: it was merely a matter ofprecaution, since the _Capella's_ peculiarities of construction madeher practically immune from torpedo attack. 

Captain Syllenger had no intention of ramming his opponent. Rammingwith a lightly built vessel, such as the _Capella_, would only beemployed as a last resource. 

At an almost point-blank range of 400 yards both bow guns were firedsimultaneously. There was no need for another shot. One of theprojectiles, hitting the U-boat at the base of the conning-tower, torea jagged hole a couple of feet in diameter. The other shell hit herabout 10 feet from the bows, and, with an erratic peculiarity that suchmissiles have after the first impact, was deflected downward, expendingthe full force of its explosive charge in the submarine's bowtorpedo-room. 

In a moment the luckless U-boat was done for. A huge column of smokemarked the spot where she had disappeared like a stone, while flyingpieces of metal hurtled far and wide through the air. Several of thefragments clattered upon the _Capella's_ deck as she swung round toavoid any possibility of fouling debris. Of the crew not a man was tobe seen. Those who had not been killed by the shell-fire had beenwiped out by the explosion of their own torpedoes. 

"We've pulled off a double event to-day, after all, " remarkedSub-lieutenant Fox as he disappeared down the companion-ladder toresume his interrupted "watch below". "Barry has got his wish. "

CHAPTER XVIII

The Smoke-signals

For the next ten days nothing occurred beyond the ordinary routine. Even Ross and Vernon, to whom everything was at first a novelty, beganto feel the irksomeness of the constant and vigilant patrol. Nohostile submarines made their appearance; there were not even anyreports, true or otherwise, that they had been sighted. It was thesame all along the English Channel--"nothin' doing". It seemed as ifthe unterseebooten had finally given up these waters as a "bad egg". 

Yet it would be most injudicious for the naval authorities to relaxtheir watchfulness. Areas of strategic importance must still beclosely guarded, since it was just possible that the wily Teuton wouldrefrain from submarine warfare in the Channel until the patrol-boats'crews were lulled into a sense of false optimism. 

The only break in the monotony was the occasional and welcomeappearance of a motor-boat from Shoreham, bringing off fresh supplies, newspapers and letters for the patrol vessels. 

Amongst Ross's correspondence was a letter from his father. AdmiralTrefusis gave no indication of what he was doing, merely a briefstatement that he was still "somewhere in the North Sea". Hecongratulated his son upon his escape, and mentioned that he had heardfrom the captain of H. M. S. _Tremendous_ with reference to his son'saction in warning the battleship. But although the Admiral did notexpress himself very enthusiastically on paper, he was as pleased asonly a proud father can be at his boy's display of gallantry andresource. "Under the circumstances, " he wrote, "I think you did rightin temporarily abandoning your preparation for Sandhurst. No doubt youwill acquit yourself in your present position as a Trefusis should do. I was certainly surprised to hear about that fellow Ramblethorne. Healways appeared to be a really decent man. It only shows how carefulone has to be when dealing with a highly organized enemy. "

Amongst Vernon's batch of correspondence was a letter fromDetective-inspector Hawke. It was couched in semi-official language, asurvival of days long ago when the Inspector was a budding constableand had to submit countless written reports to his superiors. 

There was, he wrote, no definite news concerning Ramblethorne, otherwise von Hauptwald. The local police had taken up the case, and, assisted by the military, were still scouring the country. As usual, there were inaccurate and misleading reports from various parts of thecountry. It was generally accepted that the spy was being hidden bysome of his compatriots who, by indulgence of the British Government, were still at large in the country, or else that he had succeeded ingetting away on board a neutral ship. 

The inquest on von Ruhle had taken place, with the anticipated result, a verdict of _felo de se_ being returned by the jury. No evidence hadbeen submitted as to the dead man's real occupation. Under the name ofCornelius Vanderhuit his body was handed over to the authorities forinterment. 

But the case did not end there. It remained for the competentAuthorities to decide the steps to be taken with reference to thepapers that had been found in von Ruhle's possession. 

"I am keeping von Ruhle's 'malacca' as a memento, " concluded Hawke. "It may help me to discriminate between it and a portable metal tripod, and save me from being placed under arrest by the military. Fortunately, upon the last occasion, I did not meet with my Waterloo. "

"The old chap feels a bit sore about it, I can see, " remarked Ross. "He's written a good deal more than he evidently intended. However, helooks like 'making good' this time. "

"It's a pity Ramblethorne slipped through the detectives' fingers, "said Vernon, as he prepared to go on deck. "That fellow's bound tocause trouble until he's laid by the heels. "

It was Noel Fox's "trick". The Sub was standing on the bridge with hiseye glued to his telescope. A mile or so inland, on the summit of theSouth Downs where they approach Beachy Head, three columns of smokewere rising in the still air. There was nothing extraordinary in that. It might be a farmer burning rubbish on his fields; but what attractedthe Sub's attention was the remarkable and systematic changes in thedensity of the smoke. At one moment the two outside pillars wereheavy, the centre one being little more than a thin haze; at anotherthe conditions would be reversed. 

Fox decided to take action. Rapidly the _Capella_ closed with theshore, until she was within signalling distance of a coast-guardstation. 

The station in question was not manned by coast-guards. Not consideredimportant, its complement was depleted at the outbreak of hostilities, most of the men joining the large armoured cruisers. A chief officerand a boatman alone remained. These were at a later period augmentedby a party of Sea Scouts. 

As soon as the _Capella_ had "made her number", a signaller took up hisposition on the roof of the chart-house. 

"Fires burning one mile inland to north-west of coast-guard station, "he semaphored. "Suspect smoke-signals. Investigate and report. "

Keeping his telescope bearing on shore, Vernon watched the result ofthe signal. Promptly half a dozen Scouts, mounted on bicycles, set offto the position indicated. Their progress was hidden by an interveningclump of trees, but in less than a quarter of an hour they returned. By this time the smoke had disappeared. One of their number worked thesemaphore attached to the station. 

"Fires made with damp straw. Found old blankets apparently used tostifle smoke. Saw large car stationary; made towards Lewes onapproach; number known; have informed police. "

"Smart youngsters!" exclaimed Captain Syllenger. "They've helped tonip some little plan in the bud. We'll have to be jolly careful forthe next few days, I expect. Did you make a note of the fog-signals, Mr. Fox?"

"I did, sir, " replied the Sub, producing a leaf of a notebook coveredwith an unintelligible number of lines. "Each of these strokesrepresents a column of smoke according to its position. "

"I can make nothing of it, " remarked Syllenger. "At any rate I'll sendyour result to the Admiralty with the utmost dispatch. Take her in, Mr. Fox, and bring up where you find the two-fathom mark. "

The _Capella_ headed nearer towards the shore, a leads-man soundinguntil the required depth was found. One of the boats was lowered, manned, and rowed to the coast-guard station, Sub-lieutenant Barrybeing in charge, with Ross as his immediate subordinate. 

"I want this to be forwarded to the Admiralty with the least possibledelay, " he announced, addressing the chief officer. "How long do youthink it will take to get through?"

"Too late for the eleven something train from Brighton, sir, " was thereply. "There's a gentleman in the village who has a big car. He's amember of the Volunteer Training Corps. No doubt he'll take it as faras Lewes. Why, sir, here's the gent himself! Mr. Hyde's his name. "

The newcomer was a sparely built man of below medium height. He lookedabout thirty years of age. In reality he was nearly fifty. Havingvainly attempted to obtain a commission in the R. N. R. And the Army, hehad joined the V. T. C. In the hope that, perhaps, some day his servicesmight be utilized in a very practical form. Now his chance was at hand. 

He had strolled down to the beach on noticing a boat putting off fromthe patrol vessel. 

"Lewes? Certainly, " he replied in answer to Barry's question. "Idoubt whether you'll save much. Why not let me take the message rightto the Admiralty? I'd like to do it, 'pon my word I would. "

The Sub hesitated. Perhaps the stranger might be all right; but hemight be all wrong. One had to be very careful in these times. Yetthe offer was a tempting one. If possible, it was most desirable to beable to decipher the transcription of these mysterious columns of smoke. 

"I say, Trefusis, " he said, "you've had a fairly long time afloat; whatdo you say to a run up to town? I'm sure this gentleman would make noobjection to giving you a seat in his car. "

"With the greatest pleasure, " declared Mr. Hyde. 

"Thanks!" rejoined Barry. "Of course the honour of delivering theletter will be yours, sir. Mr. Trefusis accompanies you merely as apassenger. We'll stand by to pick you up, Trefusis. I'll make it allright with the skipper. "

The Sub accompanied Mr. Hyde and the midshipman to the garage, whichwas about four minutes' walk from the coast-guard station. While theman was getting out the car (he was his own chauffeur), Barry seizedthe opportunity of telling Ross to be on his guard, in case anythingsuspicious occurred. 

With a terrific bound the powerful car started on its sixty-milejourney. Between the sea and Lewes the needle of the speed-indicatornever fell below 40 miles an hour, until at times the car was runningat 60. Village after village was passed at almost break-neck speed. In vain, sleepy rural constables sought to hold up the reckless driver. Discretion was the better part of valour, so they stood aside andattempted to note the number on the identification plate of the car. Again in vain. All they could see and swallow was a cloud of white, chalky dust that hung thickly on the sultry air long after the car wasout of sight and hearing. 

The hills around East Grinstead it surmounted at 40 miles an hour, dashing down the inclines at the speed of an express train, andswerving time after time to avoid lumbering farm wagons. 

At Croydon Mr. Hyde wisely slowed down. He had covered 49 miles inexactly fifty-five minutes, but twenty-eight minutes later the car drewup under the Admiralty Arch. 

"Room 445 is the one I want, " he explained to Ross. "I know my wayabout here, you know. I've several relations at the Admiralty. Comealong: the car won't hurt where she is. "

"Your pass, sir, " demanded a Metropolitan policeman who, with a navalpensioned petty officer, was stationed at the door. 

"Haven't one, " replied Mr. Hyde. "Urgent business--see?" and heproduced the envelope, bearing the words "On His Majesty's Service", inwhich was enclosed Captain Syllenger's communication. 

The policeman was the essence of imperturbable dignity. 

"No use, sir; you must have a pass. They are obtainable across theroad there. "

"It will mean at least twenty minutes' delay, " muttered the motoristsavagely, as he turned away. "Come on, Mr. Trefusis, let's try ourluck across the way. "

As Ross descended the short flight of stone steps leading from thelobby to the street, he nearly cannoned into a couple of naval officerswho were about to enter the building. Suddenly remembering that he wasin uniform, the midshipman brought his right hand smartly to the peakof his cap. As he did so, he recognized that one of the naval men washis father. 

The recognition was mutual. 

"Hullo, pater!"

"Hullo, Ross! What brings you here? Duty, eh? It's the same in mycase. Sorry I can't have you to lunch, but must catch the first trainnorth. This is the first time I've come up to town since the warstarted. In any case I'm not sorry that I am not stopping the nighthere. Judging by reports, it's a jolly sight too dangerous for me. Don't fancy being run over by a taxi in a dark main thoroughfare. Giveme the North Sea any day. Well, I must be moving. Can't keep My Lordswaiting, you know. Good-bye, Ross!"

It was Admiral Paul Trefusis' way. Whenever he had any business onhand that kept him from his ship, he invariably spoke in short, jerkysentences. Ross knew his parent's little mannerism. 

"One moment, pater, " he exclaimed. "We're in an awful hurry too----"

"Don't look like it, " growled the Admiral good-naturedly. "You wereambling out like an old shellback. Always execute orders at thedouble: that's my advice to budding midshipmen. Well, what is it?"

As briefly as possible, Ross told his parent of the rebuff Mr. Hyde andhe had received, and of the matter that brought them at 50 miles anhour from a remote Sussex coast-guard station. 

Making a hurried excuse to his companion, the Admiral skipped up thesteps into the lobby, Ross and his fellow-traveller following closely. 

The policeman naturally asked for no pass from a Flag officer inuniform, but he was on the point of stopping his companions when themessenger recognized the Admiral as his former captain. His apologiessurprised even the stolid policeman. 

"Don't apologize for doing your duty, my man, " remarked AdmiralTrefusis. "Hope you're fit. Must have a yarn with you when I've moretime. Come along, Ross. "

Having seen Mr. Hyde and Ross safely to the outside of the door of Room445, the Admiral abruptly took his departure. 

In reply to a knock the door was opened by a very tired-looking clerk, who was bravely bearing up under the strain of having to work ninetyhours a week, including Sundays. Having explained his business, Mr. Hyde was shown into the presence of an official whose talent was littleshort of miraculous. 

A dozen precise and pointed questions put him in full possession of allthe facts bearing upon the document that he required. He touched anelectric bell. An assistant hurried to his desk. 

"Bring me the papers on the von Ruhle case, " he ordered in an undertone. 

In less than half an hour the transcription was completed, although the_Capella's_ officer of the watch had not taken down the actualcommencement of the smoke-signal. Then, having "pressed" the paper inorder to obtain a duplicate copy, the official placed it in anenvelope, which he secured with an imposing wax seal. 

"No mistake about it, the war has bucked the civilian staff at theAdmiralty, " observed Mr. Hyde to Ross as they gained the street. "Ican remember a time when all you had to do was to mention someone'sname, and you had practically a free entry. Your particular pal couldalways contrive to have an hour's yarn with you, and perhaps aninterval for refreshment. They know what working at high pressuremeans now. "

Hyde was more cautious on the return journey. He was well within thelimit that he had set himself. An hour and forty minutes later, thecar drew up outside the coast-guard station. 

"Captain Syllenger presents his compliments, Mr. Hyde, and requestsyour company on board, " said Sub-lieutenant Barry when the _Capella's_boat arrived to take off the midshipman. "Ton my word, you haven'tbeen long. We didn't expect you back before six o'clock. "

Having received his guest, Captain Syllenger led the way to his cabin, Barry and Ross being included in the party. The skipper's face glowedwith satisfaction when he had opened the envelope, for the signal asdecoded was as follows:

"(words missing) closely patrolled. Unable to provide stores here. Will attempt removal of (word missing) from Station 123 on Fridaynight. Will signal from Station 125 at 1 a. M. On Saturday if possible. Transports leaving by Needles Channel at daybreak. "

Following this was an explanatory note. 

"Station 123 is stated to be in Keyhaven Marshes. Station 125 one milewest of white house at Milford-on-Sea. "

"Humph!" ejaculated Captain Syllenger. "It looks as if there's troublein store for some gentlemen of marked Teutonic sympathies. I only hopewe'll have a chance of being off Station 125. "

CHAPTER XIX

That Friday Night

Three hours later H. M. S. _Capella_ received the following order bywireless:--

"Await relief by _Taurus_, then proceed to Rendezvous Y, PortsmouthCommand. _Capella_ to be temporarily attached to Western Inner Patrol. "

The meaning of the message was plain to all on board. The _Capella_was to proceed to Rendezvous Y, which according to Admiraltyinstructions was off Yarmouth, Isle of Wight, where a flotilla of smallcraft was patrolling day and night, as a precautionary measure in theunlikely event of any hostile craft forcing the formidable defences ofthe western entrance to the Solent. 

At eight on the following morning the _Taurus_ arrived on the station, and with the least possible delay the _Capella_ made for the west'ard. 

Only one incident marked the run. A few miles from the Royal SovereignLightship, the _Capella_ sighted a number of submarines running on thesurface. They were on Particular Service, and although opportunitiesfor torpedoing a hostile surface craft were very remote, the submarineswere constantly rendering yeoman service by keeping the approaches tothe German North Sea ports under close observation. On rare occasions, when a German light-cruiser or destroyer did venture beyond theprotection of the mine-fields and guns of the land-batteries, Britishsubmarines were not backward in seizing their chance of letting loose"tinfish" against their quarry. 

Having arrived off Yarmouth, Captain Syllenger reported himself to thesenior officer. He came back beaming. The _Capella_ was to take partin combined sea and land operations for the capture of the Germanagents, who were supplying petrol to one of the submarines, and alsofor the capture of the U-boat. 

The eventful Friday evening came at last. The _Capella_, in companywith four first-class torpedo-boats, was to be ready at a signal fromHurst to make a dash through the North Channel. A fleet of armedtrawlers from the Poole base was to operate farther out to sea, inorder to cut off the U-boat's retreat should she be lucky enough toescape the attentions of the _Capella_ and her consorts. 

At ten o'clock the east-going tidal stream began to set through theNeedles Channel. Half an hour later it ran with a velocity exceedingfive knots. The _Capella_, moving at a rate equal to that of the tide, kept about half a mile from the Isle of Wight shore, with the white, occulting light of the Needles just visible to the north of Cliff EndFort. 

It was a perfectly calm night, overcast, but with no wind. A dullrumble, rising and falling in volume, could be heard from the directionof the open sea. 

"Breakers on the Shingles--a large bank on the starboard hand of theNeedles Channel, " explained Barry in answer to the midshipmen's enquiry. 

"Then it means that bad weather is approaching, " said Ross, who had hadplenty of opportunities of observing the phenomenon of "ground swells"on the North Cornish coast. "If it's like this, the U-boat won't beable to make direct communication with the shore. "

The appearance of Captain Syllenger on the bridge put an end toconversation. The officers, by the aid of telescopes and binoculars, kept the Hampshire shore under close observation. 

To the naked eye nothing was visible but a dark bank of trees. Not alight was to be seen, although there were several houses in thevicinity. The position of Lymington, in time of peace discernible byreason of a strong blaze of light, could only be determined by thefeeble glow of the high red light marking the course up the river. 

"It's nearly midnight, " observed the skipper. "If our friends theGermans are going to shift their supplies from here to Milford, they'llhave to be pretty sharp. Seems to me like a case of 'nuthin' doing'. "

Hardly were the words out of his mouth, when the silence was broken bya peremptory hail. The sound travelled clearly across the water, although the person shouting must have been a mile and a half away. 

Then came the jumbled noise of men's voices, quickly followed by tworifle-shots. The voices then died away, and, as far as the listenerson the _Capella_ could hear, all was quiet. 

"That's soon over, whatever it was, sir, " remarked Barry. 

"Hurst calling up, sir, " announced a signalman, as a light blinkedrapidly from the fort guarding the Hampshire side of the narrowchannel. It was the order to proceed at full speed to the positionpreviously decided upon. 

Although the torpedo-boats were speedy craft, the _Capella_ left thembehind "hands down". Fortunately there were no search-lights to baffleher quartermaster, for those of both Hurst and the batteries on theIsle of Wight shore had been previously switched off. Since the NeedleChannel was closed to all mercantile shipping, the _Capella_ could, anddid, without risk, extinguish her navigation lights. Only thephosphorescent spray from her sharp cutwater marked her position. 

Suddenly she ported helm, just in time to avoid a collision with a longdark shape that proved to be an unterseeboot in the act of diving. Hercommander had detected the pulsations of the _Capella_ motors, but hewas too late. 

Round spun the patrol vessel. From her quarter, a long length ofsomething that resembled an exaggerated string of sausages was paidout. At the rate that the _Capella_ was circling, it was impossiblefor the U-boat to escape from her toils. Dive to a safe depth shecould not, since the maximum depth was but 5 3/4 fathoms. 

The last of the "sausages", to which was attached stout flexible wire, disappeared beneath the water. Then a jerk upon the wire announced thegratifying fact that the fugitive submarine had fouled the string ofsausages, which was in reality a number of gun-cotton charges, primedand connected to a powerful battery by means of an insulated wire. 

Sub-lieutenant Fox, who was standing by the firing-key, needed noorders. His fingers pressed the ebonite disc. A hundred yards asternof the _Capella_ a column of water was flying high in the air, followedby a tremendous roar. For one minute the vessel rocked violently inthe agitated waters, then, circling, she made for the spot under whichthe explosion had occurred. With a splash a mark-buoy was droppedoverboard to indicate the position of the shattered U-boat. By thistime the torpedo-boats had arrived on the scene. 

"A deuce of a commotion on shore, Barry, " exclaimed the skipper. 

"I should be surprised if there were not, sir, " replied the Sub. "Theracket was enough to smash every window within a couple of miles of thebeach. They're signalling, sir. "

"German submarine's boat rowing off. Intercept her, " was the signalspelt out by the long and short flashes. 

"More work, " remarked Barry. "It's like looking for a needle in abottle of hay. Shall I order the searchlight to be run, sir?"

"Very good, " replied Captain Syllenger. "But before you do so youmight signal to Hurst, and request that all available search-light bebrought to bear in this direction. "

Soon the hitherto pitch-dark sea was flooded in a blaze of light. Giant beams from the Isle of Wight shore joined with those of HurstCastle to sweep slowly across the waves, supplementing the twin raysprojected from the two search-lights on the _Capella's_ bridge. 

It was indeed a brilliant spectacle. The _Capella_ and thetorpedo-boats seemed outlined in silver. Along the shore as far asHengistbury Head, the low line of cliffs was thrown into strong reliefagainst the dark background of sky. The crest of every wave seemed asif made of delicate filigree work. Nothing afloat could hope to escapedetection within the radius of action of the concentrated millions ofcandle-power search-lights. 

Less than a mile away, and about the same distance from shore, a smallblack object bobbed buoyantly upon the waves. It was the ill-fatedU-boat's canvas dinghy, apparently empty. 

Down bore the _Capella_, her search-lights fixed upon the object of hersearch. The boat was not deserted. Lying at full length on the bottomboards were two men, who had adopted that position, in the vain hope ofescaping detection. 

As the patrol vessel approached, they sat up and raised dolorous criesof "Mercy, Englishmen!"

"Chuck it, Fritz!" shouted one of the British seamen. "You won't gethurt. You ain't in a strafed submarine now, you know. "

"Silence!" ordered the skipper. "Stand by there. Get that boataboard. See they don't sling anything overboard. "

There was precious little that the German seamen could throw overboard, for when the canvas boat was placed on the Capellus deck it was foundto contain only a pair of oars and two crutches. What the Germansailors hoped to do had they escaped detection was a matter forconjecture, for without a compass, food, and water, and in a frailcockle-shell with every indication of bad weather approaching, certaindeath stared them in the face. 

Finding themselves well treated, the Germans grew quite communicative. They freely admitted that they expected to obtain a considerablequantity of petrol from their agents ashore. They did not know theirnames, or if they did they professed complete ignorance on the point. Their craft, numbered for some vague reason U7, was built at Altona, and completed only a fortnight previously. In addition to her normalcrew of twenty-eight officers and men, she carried five officers andten men for instructional purposes. She was one of four that had comeround Cape Wrath and the West and South coasts of Ireland, rather thanrisk the hazardous passage through the Straits of Dover, or the almostequally dangerous North Channel between Scotland and Ireland. Two ofthe five were missing; the other was supposed to be in theneighbourhood of Cape Ushant. U7's particular mission was to intercepttransports that were known to be leaving Southampton for the Frenchcoast. 

The men admitted that they had been tricked. A light had been flashedseaward, and although the signal was not strictly in accordance withthe prearranged plan, it was sufficiently accurate to delude the U7'sLieutenant-Commander. 

The German officer had shown considerable skill and audacity in closingwith the shore so close to the numerous and powerful batteries. Hedwelt upon the almost absolute certainty of the gunners devoting theirattention solely to the Needles Channel, and since it was a little pastthe time of dead low water the intervening Shingles Bank, which inplaces rears itself 20 feet above the sea, would afford an efficientscreen from the search-lights. 

But he had reckoned without the patrol vessels. Barely had theU-boat's collapsible rowed a hundred yards from her parent when the_Capella_ raced up, and promptly put another hostile submarine to hercredit. 

Early next morning, the _Capella_ having returned to her station offYarmouth to await orders, Vernon Haye went ashore in charge of thewhaler in order to pick up mails and secure fresh provisions. 

Arriving alongside the little stone quay, he left a boat-keeper incharge and proceeded towards the post office, while the coxswain andthe rest of the men went in search of the much-desired commodities inthe shape of fresh butter and milk. 

Just as Vernon was about to enter the post office, he nearly collidedwith a very sleepy-looking subaltern in the uniform of the RoyalGarrison Artillery. 

"By Jove, Barraclough!" he exclaimed. "I didn't expect to see youhere. "

Barraclough was an Upper Sixth man at the same school as Haye, but hadleft four terms previously. On the outbreak of war he had applied for, and had obtained, a commission, and had been stationed, somewhat to hisdisappointment, at Hurst Castle. Beyond a few false alarms and aliberal experience in target practice, his existence at that isolatedfortress bordered on the monotonous. He was simply on thorns to beable to proceed to the Front; the probability was that he would have to"do his bit" for his country at a spot within 20 miles of his homeuntil the termination of the war. 

"Bless my soul, Haye!" he rejoined. "Whoever would have thought to seeyou here, and in naval get-up. How long have you been in the Service, and what ship are you on?"

"Only a few weeks; and I'm on the _Capella_ with Trefusis. "

"Trefusis, eh? Well, he's a lucky boy to have an Admiral for a father. And the _Capella_? Then you were in last night's affair? I heard theybagged the submarine. "

"Rather!" declared Vernon proudly. 

Barraclough stifled a prodigious yawn. 

"Jolly glad to hear it. 'Scuse me, but I'm beastly tired. Had a nightof it after those spies across yonder. Didn't turn in till three, andat six I had to cross from Hurst to Vic. --that's Fort Victoria, youknow--on duty. "

"Did you collar them?" asked the midshipman eagerly. 

The subaltern yawned again. 

"No, " he drawled. "Worse luck, we didn't; but we had some fun. Youknow we were warned to watch Keyhaven marshes--and a dreary spot it is. Worse than the most dismal flats on the Essex coast, which is saying alot. Well, before I tell you what happened, I ought to describe theplace. It's a marsh, with patches of dry ground thickly covered withfurze, that extends from Keyhaven to Lymington River--about four miles. It is separated from the sea--or rather mud-flats, covered at hightide--by a low bank on which is an apology for a footpath. 

"Our orders were to post a squad at a certain point where the spieswere supposed to have hidden a quantity of petrol. The place inquestion was close to a rifle-butt. Men were detailed to guard allroads leading to the marsh, and to allow all traffic, whethermotor-cars, carts, or pedestrians, to pass unchallenged. The sentrieswere on no account to show themselves, except to hold up everything andeveryone coming _from_ the marsh. 

"Other men were told off to watch the three available roads betweenKeyhaven and Milford, where the submarine was expected to send ashorefor her stores, so you see the U-boat didn't stand much chance ofgetting what she wanted. She copped something she didn't expect. 

"As soon as it was dark, my squad left Hurst by motor-boat and landednear the toll-house at Keyhaven. It was almost dead low water, youknow, or we might have been able to save ourselves a long tramp--youcouldn't call it a march. 

"We followed the wretched footpath, slipping on the slimy mud, andeither tumbling over each other or else side-slipping into the morass, which was a jolly sight worse. To make a long story short, we took upour position, which was in the middle of a circular clump of furzewithin 50 yards of the butts, at ten o'clock. 

"There we stuck for nearly two mortal hours, and not so much as achance of having a cigarette. Of course the men were frightfully keen, and it took me all my time to stop them from chin-wagging. Some ofthem began to get jumpy, swearing they saw all manner of men and things. 

"I had just looked at my watch--luminous face, thank goodness--when mysergeant whispered to me that someone was approaching. It was thenclose on twelve. He was right. There were three men amblingcautiously along the sea-wall. They were talking softly. Once one ofthem stopped, bent under the lee of a furze bush and lit a cigarette, which seemed a rummy thing for a spy to do unless it was a prearrangedsignal. 

"We let them come on until they got within 20 yards, then up popped mysergeant. 

"'Halt, who goes there?' he shouted, loud enough to be heard a coupleof miles away. 

"Bless me if the three fellows hadn't the cheek to answer in exactlythe same words, although they didn't sound particularly cheerful overthe job; and, instead of halting, one of them came on, holding a stickabove his head. The others didn't seem very keen to follow him, butbegan jabbering away as hard as they could. 

"So I gave orders for a couple of shots to be fired over their heads, just to let them know what to expect when they deliberately ignore achallenge. But instead of 'hands up' they bolted, with our men afterthem. 

"Then I had good reason to bless that blessed marsh, for between us andthe rifle-butt was a deep ditch filled with water, and a nice wirefence on the other side. Half a dozen of us, myself included, werefloundering up to our waists; the others were lucky enough to avoid theditch by making straight for the path. But we had the fellows allright. "

"The spies?" asked Vernon. 

Barraclough yawned, and then laughed mirthlessly. 

"Nuthin' doing, " he replied. "They were three members of a localdefence corps engaged in patrolling the marshes. Goodness only knowswhat for, for they hadn't any weapon with them except walking-sticks. Perhaps 'twas as well, though, for they might have let rip in theirexcitement. When a man's nerves are all upset it's not safe for him tohave his finger on the trigger of a rifle, you know. "

"But the spies?" asked Vernon. 

"Not a sign of 'em, " replied the subaltern. "If they were anywhereabout, they must have sheered off pretty quickly when they heard theracket. An hour later an orderly brought us word to return to thefort, so we guessed that something had taken place between apatrol-ship and the submarine. But I must be on the move. Regards toTrefusis. If you've a chance to get ashore on the other side, look meup. "

CHAPTER XX

To the Rescue

Twelve hours later found H. M. S. _Capella_ back on her station offBeachy Head. 

The long-threatened gale had burst with great violence upon the Southcoast. Long crested breakers surged towards the chalky cliffs, thundering with terrific force against the sheer face of the rocks. 

Seaward, as far as the eye could reach, was nothing but a confusedtumble of foam, backed by a lowering bank of ragged and sombre clouds. 

The _Capella_ and her consorts had to "stick it". Without orders theydare not seek shelter in Newhaven harbour. All they could do was toforge slowly ahead, keeping bows on to the furious seas. In spite ofher shallow draught, the _Capella_ was an excellent sea boat, althoughinclined to be "jumpy". Frequently green waves broke over the fo'c'sleand surged aft as far as the deck-house under the bridge; but withunfailing regularity the stanch vessel would shake herself clear of thetons of water that had invaded her deck, to be ready to receive thenext contribution from the hand of King Neptune. 

Nevertheless, while the gale lasted it was a time of discomfort. Onething for which the crew were thankful was the fact that it was stillSeptember, and the gale was not one of those wintry varieties which areso trying to the hardy patrollers of the North Sea. 

Everything had to be battened down. 'Tween-decks the air was stifling, and reeked of fumes from the motors. It was impossible for a man tostand unsupported. Anything that had not been securely lashed would besure to be flung across the deck by the erratic motion. No hot mealswere obtainable. Officers and crew had to eat as best they might, without the use of articles of civilization such as plates and similarthings. 

Ross and Vernon saw very little of each other during the gale, exceptfor a brief interval during the changes of the watch on deck. Eachenjoyed his "trick" on deck, as he crouched behind the bulgingstorm-dodgers and faced the howling wind and the stinging spray. Itwas greatly to be preferred to being below, cooped up in an atmospherewhich resembled that of an underground scullery on washing-day, withthe odours of petrol and lubricating oil thrown in as extras. 

"One thing we've to be thankful for, " remarked Barry, "and that is thatit's a sou'wester. It minimizes the chance of being blown up by aderelict mine. "

"How is that?" asked Ross. 

"A sou'easter's the brute for that. Brings with it dozens of Germanmines that have broken adrift from the Belgian coast. When I wasstationed at Great Yarmouth we had the same game in easterly gales. Itwas nothing unusual to find twenty of the brutes lying ashore; and onseveral occasions they have exploded on coming into contact with therocks, and then, especially at night, everyone thought that the Germanshad at last ventured to risk 'The Day'. 

"I remember one that came ashore a few miles from Lowestoft. It was awhopper, of a different type from the rest. An Engineer officerbrought a dozen young subalterns down to see it and give them anobject-lesson. He talked for the best part of an hour, explaining itsconstruction, and laying particular stress upon the need of thegreatest caution when handling it. Finally he proceeded to explode itelectrically. The circuit of the battery was tested and found to be inperfect order, and the wires were then connected with the detonator ofthe mine, after the tube containing the fulminate of mercury had beenremoved. 

"The whole crowd took cover. The circuit was completed, but the minedidn't budge. They tried three times, and finally came to theconclusion that the thing was a dud. 

"Then a squad of soldiers took pot-shots at it until it was fairlyriddled with bullet holes, but still the blessed thing wouldn'texplode. Eventually it was decided to remove the mine to a laboratoryfor examination, and a team of mules was requisitioned to drag it offthe beach. 

"One of the mules suddenly took it into his head to be a little bitpremature, for he lashed out, broke away from the traces, and pelteddown the beach. When the brute came to the place where the mine lay, he found that the tackle which the men had already rove to shift it wasin his way. Possibly the sight of a rope upset him, for he backed andlashed out with his hind legs--and up went the mine with a terrificbang. They never found any of the pieces of the mule. "

At length, as is invariably the case, the gale blew itself out, and, although the sea still ran high, the absence of broken water made itpossible for the hatchways to be kept open. 

The behaviour of the _Capella_ and her consorts was a matter forcongratulation. They had stood the test remarkably well, and hadproved themselves good all-weather craft, provided that they could bekept head to wind. 

A week later the _Capella_ returned to Southampton to replenish herstores, and after three days in port she received orders to proceed tothe French coast and patrol off Cape Levi, where the presence of ahostile submarine had been reported. 

This intelligence was serious. It meant that, once again, anunterseeboot had made its way into the English Channel, and was lyingon the track of the British transports and hospital ships runningbetween Southampton and Rouen. 

It took the _Capella_ two hours only to run from The Nab to withinsight of the French coast. Even then her motors were not running atthe maximum number of revolutions. Extreme speed was only resorted towhen actually engaged in submarine hunting. 

As the vessel closed with the grey cliffs of Normandy, Ross suddenlyshouted: "Submarine on the port bow!"

Less than two cables' length away could be discerned the twinperiscopes and a portion of the conning-tower. The submarine was notforging ahead; it was simply stationary, except for a slight movementcaused by the action of the waves. It certainly was not a Britishcraft. It might be French. The odds were that it was German, sincesubmarines belonging to the allied nations were not in the habit ofkeeping awash, unless in the presence of an enemy. 

Quickly the guns, which were already cleared for action, were trainedupon the visible part of the submarine; but as she made no attempt tomove, Captain Syllenger refrained from giving the order to open fire. 

Thrice the _Capella_ circled round the mysterious craft, at the sametime gradually closing, since she had nothing to fear from thedischarge of a torpedo. 

"I believe she's abandoned, sir, " said Barry. 

The _Capella_ stopped. Preparations were being made for the loweringof a boat, when one of the seamen shouted:

"It's a dud, sir; a blessed decoy-bird!"

The man was right. Upon investigation, the submarine was found to benothing more than a couple of barrels covered with painted canvas. Twothick poles passing vertically through them, and weighted at thelowermost ends to give the necessary stability, served as periscopes. 

"There's a real submarine knocking about, I'll swear, " said theskipper. "Put a shot into those barrels, Morgan. "

One shell was sufficient. Little more than a hundred chips floating onthe surface was left of the decoy. 

The _Capella_ was about to resume her course when a warning cry washeard:

"Torpedo coming, sir!"

From a point bearing half a mile on the vessel's port quarter, thetrack of the on-coming torpedo was clearly discernible. The _Capella_, being without way, would undoubtedly have fallen a victim had it notbeen for her light draught, for before she could forge ahead themissile passed under her keel. Its track could be followed as far asthe eye could reach, which showed that it was a modern weapon propelledwith superheated air and having a range of about five miles. 

Straight for the source of the missile, tore the British craft, but hereffort to grapple with the unterseeboot was in vain. The submarine haddived immediately. No sounds betrayed her presence in the vicinity. Had the U-boat been moving, the churning of her propellers would havebeen distinctly audible. 

"She's got away, worse luck, " growled Sub-lieutenant Fox. "I wonderhow she did it? It's too deep for her to sound, and she can't bemoving under her own power. "

"We'll have her right enough, " rejoined Barry, the optimist. "A lighthaze and a calm sea is what we want. We'll run her down in less than aweek, you mark my words. "

Four days passed. The _Capella_ kept her station almost withoutincident. Ship after ship, deeply laden with troops and munitions, entered the sand-banked estuary of the Seine, having been escorted thusfar by destroyers. Ship after ship, more lightly burdened, left theriver, homeward bound. Amongst them were hospital ships, clearlydistinguishable by their broad green bands and conspicuous red crosseson both bows and quarters. A big action had taken place "somewhere inFrance", and the passing of the Red Cross vessels was the aftermath ofa dearly-bought victory. 

Yet nothing occurred to threaten the constant stream of shipping. Itseemed reasonable to surmise that either the U-boat had met with anaccident or else that she had transferred her energies to another area. 

Meanwhile Ross and Vernon had been working hard, improving theirseamanship. Under the instruction of the two sub-lieutenants they weremaking rapid progress in navigation; they could fix their position bythe use of a sextant, were able to use the semaphore, and, generally, competent to carry out the duties required as midshipmen of the watch. 

Captain Syllenger had long before overcome his prejudices against thesons of Flag Officers--at least in their case--and even expressed hiswillingness to grant them each a certificate of proficiency, shouldthey wish to transfer to one of the cruisers of the Royal Navy. 

At length the _Capella_ received orders for recall to her station offBeachy Head. She was to put into Havre to revictual that day, leavingat 9 a. M. On the morrow. 

The lads were heartily glad when the _Capella_ left the malodorous_bassin ą flotte_. The irksomeness of lying in the harbour at Le Havrepalled upon them, even after a few hours. They yearned for the opensea almost from the time their ship made fast alongside the grimy quay. 

Forty minutes after leaving French waters, the _Capella_ sighted alarge cargo-boat steaming northwards. She was high in ballast androlling like a barrel. On bringing glasses to bear upon her, the_Capella's_ officers found that she was the _Orontabella_, one of thevessels chartered by the British Government and fitted as ahorse-transport ship. She was doing 16 knots to the _Capella's_ 34, and when first sighted was nearly five miles off. 

Suddenly a low rumble was heard by the crew of the patrol-vessel. Telescopes and binoculars that had just been laid aside were againbrought into action, and it was seen that the transport was sinkingrapidly by the stern. She had been torpedoed under the starboardquarter. The terrific impact of the explosion had torn a large hole, besides shattering the rudder and one of the propellers, while all herboats in davits were rendered useless by the concussion. 

It was a matter of but a few moments before she made her final plunge. Already signals were fluttering from her stumpy masts--the well-knownN. C. (in distress; want immediate assistance) and A. R. (boats are stovein). 

Captain Syllenger gave a quick glance astern. There were othervessels, but low down on the horizon. To expect succour from them wasfor the present out of the question. He had a double task: to attemptto destroy the aggressor, and to rescue the transport's crew. 

"Prepare to lower boats!" he shouted. "A midshipman and a couple ofhands in each. Guns' crews stand by!"

Clang, chang, went the engine-room telegraph. Like a greyhound, the_Capella_ increased her speed, until she was within a quarter of a mileof the foundering vessel. Then reversing engines, she almost lost wayat less than a cable's length from the transport. 

By this time Ross and Vernon were in their respective boats. Beforeway was off the ship the falls were paid out and the disengaging gearcast off. 

"Give way, men, " ordered Ross. 

His scanty crew, for more men could not well be spared, "gave way" witha will, gaining a couple of lengths before his chum was able to pushoff. 

With hardly a pause the _Capella_ dashed off, quickly increasing herpace to full speed ahead, in her quest for the U-boat that had launchedthe deadly torpedo. 

The _Orontabella's_ stern was now under water. She had a pronouncedlist to starboard. Dense volumes of smoke and steam, pouring from herfunnels and hatchways, showed that the water had already invaded herboiler-room. Above the hiss of the scalding vapour and the rush ofescaping air, could be heard the terrified neighing of a dozen or morewounded horses, for whom no escape was possible. 

Clustering on the fo'c'sle were about twenty or thirty men, theofficers and crew who had survived the explosion; for the death-roll, especially in the engine-room and stokehold, was very high, men beingoverwhelmed by the inrush of water before they could scramble up thesteep ladder and through the narrow hatchway. 

The waiting men showed no signs of panic. Those who could swim had nottroubled to don their cork life-belts, but were calmly engaged inlashing their life-saving devices round the shoulders of their lessfortunate comrades. 

[Illustration: THE SINKING OF THE "ORONTABELLA" (missing from book)]

Ross ordered his men to back towards the foundering vessel. Herealized that at any moment the transport might plunge suddenly, andthe danger of being dragged down by the suction was a thing he had toavoid. There was also a risk of the boat being swamped by the men asthey clambered on board. 

"Jump!" he shouted. "Not too many at a time. "

Three men accepted the invitation: two good swimmers and a non-swimmer. The former, grasping their struggling companion by the shoulders, struck out without much difficulty and reached Ross's boat, where theywere quickly hauled into safety. 

Setting the rescued men to take an oar each, for there were several tospare lying on the thwarts, Ross took the whaler closer in, since hehad now more means of propulsion at his command. 

Four more followed, and were picked up by Vernon's men. Meanwhile thebows of the _Orontabella_ were rising high out of the water, as thestern sank correspondingly deeper, until those of the officers and crewwho still remained on board had to cling desperately to the rails toprevent themselves slipping into the maelstrom that surged over thesubmerged part of the sinking ship. 

Suddenly the vessel dived. Where a few seconds previously a toweringmass of black and red plating rose high above the boats, there hung acloud of smoke, steam, and spray, while all around the water wasthrashed white with foam. 

"Give way, men!" shouted Ross. 

The rowers were too late. Before the boat could pull clear of thescene of disaster, a vicious, crested wave, so hollow that the leanquarters of the whaler were unable to rise to it, poured into the frailcraft. 

The next instant Ross and his crew were struggling in the confusion ofthe broiling sea. 

Vernon, although farther from the spot, narrowly escaped the fate ofhis chum. It was surprising what a terrific commotion the_Orontabella_ caused at the last. For some minutes he could seenothing beyond the tips of the blades of the oars. Everything else wasenveloped in smoke, steam, and spray. 

Gradually the waves subsided and the wind dispersed the pall of vapour. The sea was dotted with the heads of swimmers. Ross's boat, with herstem and stern-posts just visible above the surface, was waterlogged, yet retained sufficient buoyancy to support half a dozen men. 

Here, indeed, was a pretty pickle. At the very most, Vernon's boatwould hold fifteen or sixteen men. The _Capella_ was almost out ofsight. The whole attention of her officers and crew would be centredupon the U-boat. So long as there was any indication of the latter'swhereabouts, the patrol-vessel would cling tenaciously to her quest. 

There was very little left floating from the sunken ship. A fewgratings, handspikes, a couple of breakers, and fragments of theshattered boats, but nothing substantial enough to support a man abovewater; and in mid-Channel, although it was only September, the sea wastoo cold to enable the swimmers to keep afloat very long without almostcertain danger of cramp. 

Vernon looked around for his chum. He saw him sharing an oar with oneof the crew. 

"Come on, my lads!" shouted Ross encouragingly. "We'll hike her up. Half a dozen of you who have life-belts come round this side, and whenI say 'All together!' lift for all you're worth. "

The men obeyed as quickly as they could in the circumstances. Findingthat they could easily keep afloat, the non-swimmers had regained theirconfidence. Piloted by those who could swim, the men ranged themselvesalong one gunwale of the waterlogged whaler. 

"All ready?" asked Ross, whose knowledge of how to empty a waterloggedCanadian canoe prompted him to try a large, heavy boat. "Together!"

Up rose the boat's gunwale as high as the men's arms could reach, butwith a dull swish the whaler resumed its former position. In liftingone side the other had dropped deeply beneath the surface, and theattempt to shake out the water had ended in failure. 

"Now then, " ordered Vernon, taking his turn to direct operations. "Allswimmers get overboard for a few minutes. Those with life-belts get onboard, and take off your belts. "

In five minutes a dozen cork life-belts were available. Manoeuvringhis boat alongside the waterlogged whaler, Vernon gave directions forthe belts to be lashed underneath the thwarts, so that they werecompletely submerged. Then taking the whaler's painter he hove tautuntil, added to the lifting powers of the cork and the upward strain onthe ropes, the gunwale rose a good three inches above the water. 

This done, one of the _Capella's_ men, armed with a baler, beganthrowing out the water from the whaler. In another five minutes theboat showed sufficient buoyancy to allow two more hands to clamber onboard. They, too, baled vigorously, with the result that once more thewhaler was free from water. 

Between the two boats, all the survivors of the _Orontabella_ wereeasily accommodated; but when at length the midshipmen looked for the_Capella_, the patrol-boat was nowhere to be seen. 

CHAPTER XXI

Adrift in the Channel

"She'll be back for us soon, " declared Vernon optimistically, addressing his chum, for the two boats were within twenty feet of eachother. "Can you see any signs of her now?"

Ross stood upright in the stern-sheets and, shading his eyes with hishand, gave a careful look in the direction where the _Capella_ wassupposed to be. 

"No, " he answered. "And I cannot see any signs of the other vessels wesaw some time ago. We'd better let the men rest on their oars. "

Unknown to the two midshipmen, they had for the last hour and a halfbeen in the grip of the strong west-going tide that surges along theFrench coast. In that interval they had been carried out of the courseof the vessels they had sighted, and were some four or six miles fromthe spot where the _Orontabella_ had sunk. 

Another hour passed. The men who had been in the water took theopportunity of drying their clothing in the hot sunshine. They treatedtheir misfortune lightly, making very little reference to the loss oftheir vessel. One would have thought that being torpedoed was almostan everyday occurrence. 

As the minutes slipped by, it began to occur to Ross and his chum thatthe _Capella_ had missed them entirely. In another few hours nightwould be coming on, and the prospect of spending ten hours of darknessin a couple of open boats in mid-Channel was not at all alluring. 

Each boat was equipped with compass, lead-line, signal-book, lamp, boxof biscuits, and beaker of water. None of these articles belonging toRoss's boat had suffered, in spite of their being immersed, except thelamp, for the provisions were in watertight boxes. Masts and sailswere not in the boats, having been left on board the _Capella_ when therescuers put off hurriedly on their errand of mercy. 

"What's the best thing to be done, skipper?" asked Ross, addressing themaster of the _Orontabella_. 

"Well, sir, since you ask me, " was the reply, "I'd shape a course duenorth. We'd be in the track of craft making up and down Channel beforeit gets dark. If we don't fall in with any vessel, we can carry on. 'Taint so very far to land, considering the number of hands we've gotin the boats. "

Quickly the available oars were manned, the men being told off inrelays to row for half an hour at a time, while the skipper of thetorpedoed boat relieved Ross at the yoke-lines. The mate, who had beenpicked up by the other boat, was also able to give Vernon a spell. 

At six o'clock, a biscuit and a small quantity of water were served outto each man, and preparations were made for the approaching night. Vernon's boat, which possessed the only lantern that would burn, was totake the lead as soon as darkness set in, the light enabling the whalerto keep in touch with her consort. 

"Jolly funny where the _Capella's_ got to, " remarked Ross to theskipper. "With her speed she could search a couple of hundred squaremiles by this time. "

"'Spose she wasn't torpedoed?" asked the _Orontabella's_ master. 

"No jolly fear!" replied the midshipman decidedly. "She'storpedo-proof. We've had plenty of them fired at us, but never theleast danger of being hit. "

"It's a good thing the sea's calm, " continued the skipper. "We'redoing a good four knots. Twelve hours at the very most ought to bringus in sight of the Wight, but we've dropped a long way to lee'ard. P'raps it's as well, for it's no joke to be in the thick of thecross-Channel traffic at night, with only a tuppenny dip to light us. Good heavens! What's that?"

Less than fifty yards from the boat a pole-like object, throwing off adouble feather of spray, was forging through the water. 

"A periscope, sir!" shouted half a dozen voices. 

Ross did not require to be told that. With considerable misgivings, hesaw the metal shaft rise higher and higher out of the water; then thetip of an ensign-staff, followed almost simultaneously by the snout andconning-tower of a large German submarine. Finally the unterseebootrose to the surface, revealing her entire length, which was not lessthan three hundred feet. 

She slowed down. The aperture in her conning-tower opened and a coupleof officers appeared. From hatchways fore and aft, seamen clad in greyfearnought coats came tumbling on deck, greeting the British with jibesand laughter. 

"So you getting on, Englishmen!" exclaimed a leutnant. "Still it islong vay to land, hein? An' where vos der _Capella_? Suppose I tellyou: we her haf sent to der bottom. Goot night, ver' goot night. Ourver' kind regards to Jellicoe. "

The U-boat forged ahead, then, getting way, made off at high speed. Ina quarter of an hour she was out of sight. 

"I suppose those fellows were telling the truth, old man, " called outRoss, addressing his chum. 

"'Fraid so, " replied Vernon. "They had her name pat, so it looks as ifthe poor old ship's done for. But, I say, what a whopper of asubmarine!"

"One of the new type, I should fancy, " said the skipper of the_Orontabella_. "I shouldn't be surprised if she were a mine-layer aswell. "

Darkness fell upon the scene. The men rowed doggedly, Vernon settingthe course by the simple expedient of keeping the Pole Star in linewith the boat's stem. It saved the strain of peering into the compassbowl, and in any case the boats were bound to hit the English coast, unless they were swamped or run down. 

Throughout the long night the steady progress was maintained. It washorribly cold. Most of the men were lightly clad in imperfectly driedgarments. Both Ross and Vernon were glad when the officers of the_Orontabella_ relieved them, since they could take turn at the oars andderive a certain amount of warmth from the exertion. 

Day dawned at last, a brilliant pink sky that betokened bad weatherbefore the day was out. Away on the starboard bow could be discerned agrey cliff surmounted by dark hills. It was the Isle of Wight, distantabout six miles off. 

With the appearance of the sun the wind freshened, and soon developedinto a strong breeze dead in their teeth. Spray began to fly over thebows, soon to be followed by green seas, that necessitated constantbaling. It was quite evident that every yard of that six miles meantdesperate work, with the chances of being swamped before the boatreached land. 

The men, weakened by hunger and exposure, stuck gamely to their task, yet after another half an hour's hard pulling the boats seemed nonearer their object. They were barely holding their own against thewind and waves. 

"What's to be done now?" asked Ross, consulting the experiencedskipper. Although the midshipman was in charge, he was not aboveasking the advice of a man who had been to sea almost as many years asthe lad had been days. "We're hardly making headway, and the sea'sbeating up fast. "

"And the men are almost done up, " added the skipper. "It's bound to beworse before it gets better. I would suggest that we ride to asea-anchor, and trust to luck to be picked up. "

The men quickly got to work. A triangle was composed of six oars inpairs lashed together, two of the boat's gratings being secured betweenthe ash spars. To the apex the anchor was made fast, in order to makethe sea-anchor float in a vertical position, its weight compensated bythe use of the now empty water-beaker as a float. 

Secured by three spans of equal length, which in turn were bent to theboat's painter, the sea-anchor was dropped overboard. For somedistance the whaler drifted to leeward, until held by the strain of thepainter she rode head to wind, and in comparative safety in the wake ofthe floating breakwater. 

Vernon's boat then came close alongside. Her painter was caught andsecured, allowing her to ride astern. 

The crews were then at liberty to rest, with the knowledge that theirdrift was little more than half a knot. Yet every two hours they wouldbe drifting a mile farther from shore, unless their plight wereobserved by passing vessels. 

By this time the sea was running high. At one moment the whaler wouldbe tossing high upon the rounded crest of a wave, with the other boatdeep in the trough. At the next, nothing was to be seen from thewhaler save an incline of green water and a canopy of dark-grey sky. On either side the crests were white with foam, yet, thanks to thesea-anchor, hardly a drop of water was taken in over the boats'gunwales. 

The men sat in silence, turning their backs to the keen wind. A fewwho had tobacco smoked. Those who had not were glad to chew the smallquantity given them by their more fortunate comrades. As for Ross andVernon, they were glad to doze, lying on the damp bottom-boards withtheir heads pillowed on their arms. 

Ross was almost asleep when he was aroused by one of the men announcingthat a vessel was in sight. At the prospect of rescue, all hands werealert. The man was right, for, as the whaler rose on the crests of thewaves, a dark, grey shape could be discerned through the mirk at adistance of about a couple of miles. 

Quickly the shape resolved itself into a large four-funnelled cruiserpelting down-Channel at full speed. Unless she altered her course shewould pass within a hundred yards of the boats. 

"Lash a shirt to the boat-hook, lads!" ordered Ross. 

A few moments of intense anxiety followed. Then a groan ofdisappointment rose from the men as the cruiser ported helm. 

She was then a couple of miles to windward. The smoke from her funnelsdrifted around the boats, making it impossible for the derelict men tosee what she was doing, until the evil-smelling haze dispersed, showingthe cruiser less than two cables' length away and bearing down towardsthem. 

From her after bridge a seaman was semaphoring vigorously. 

"Will slow down to windward of you, " read the message. 

"Oars, lads!" ordered Ross. 

The bowman of each boat promptly cut the painter. With renewed spiritthe rowers bent to their work, and soon the boats were alongside andunder the lee of H. M. S. _Oxford_, armoured cruiser of the County class. 

By the aid of bowlines the rescued men were quickly hauled over theside. Without delay the _Capella's_ boats were cut adrift, and thecruiser proceeded on her way. 

CHAPTER XXII

An Unexpected Capture

"I can see no possibility of landing you at present, " said the officerof the watch, after Ross had reported the events that had led up to therescue of the two boats. "We're under sealed orders. We have to makefor a certain rendezvous at full speed. When we arrive we shall knowwhere we are bound for--until then we are quite in the dark. We'llwireless, however, and let the Commander-in-Chief at Portsmouth knowthat you are safe. "

"Have you any news of the _Capella_?"

"Yes; she was mined while in pursuit of a submarine. It is a dickensof a puzzle to know why, for our sweepers were over there early thatmorning and never found a single mine. Whatever it was, it was not sopowerful as they generally are, for the _Capella_ was able to make forshore and run aground within a few miles of Barfleur. All hands weresaved, luckily, but I'm afraid this gale will do for her entirely. It's blowing great guns. "

"Then those fellows on the unterseeboot were wrong, " remarked Vernon. "They said she had gone down with all hands. We believe that thesubmarine is a mine-layer, and perhaps it was one of her mines that theold _Capella_ bumped against. "

"Let's hope the patrol-vessels will settle her, " rejoined the officerof the watch. "But you must be awfully knocked up. I'll introduce youto your new messmates, and they'll give you a shake-down in thesteerage flat. The _Orontabella's_ officers can mess with the'warrants', and the men will be berthed for'ard. "

The Lieutenant stepped to the top of the ladder from the navigationbridge. A couple of midshipmen were standing on the superstructure, watching with professional interest the splicing of a six-inch hawser. 

"Mr. Sefton!" sang out the officer of the watch. 

The midshipman ran up the ladder and saluted. 

"Your messmates for the time being, " continued the Lieutenant, after hehad formally introduced Trefusis and Haye. "They've had a pretty roughtime, and they are jolly peckish, I know. "

Midshipman Sefton led the two chums below, and piloted them into a verylong room on the main deck. It was plainly, nay scantily furnished, and appeared at first sight to be utterly cheerless. Possibly the ideawas heightened by the fact that frequently the scuttles were obscuredby the seas that slapped viciously against the cruiser's sides. 

"This is the gun-room, " explained Sefton apologetically. "We've had toclear it out pretty thoroughly, you know. No knick-knacks orpretty-pretties in war time. Sorry the other fellows aren't here. We're four one-stripers, three midshipmen R. N. , and five midshipmenR. N. R. --a jolly lively crowd of us, I can assure you. "

He touched a bell. A messman appeared. 

"Jones, " ordered the midshipman, "a good square meal for two, and jollywell look sharp about it. "

"You've got to be dead nuts on that chap if you want anything done in ahurry, " explained Sefton after the man had cleared off. "It's the onlyway to check slackness. No doubt he gets his own back by giving usplum-duff without troubling to extract the cockroaches; but we manageto thrive on it. By the by, I'll tell my servant to sling a couple ofhammocks for you. There'll be no need to turn out before dinner. "

Sefton hastened below to acquaint the marine who, for the sum of tenshillings a month, acted as the budding Nelson's factotum to make thenecessary preparations for his new chums. By the time he returned, asubstantial lunch had been set before Trefusis and Haye. 

"I say, you fellows, " remarked the midshipman; "I notice thatEccles--that's the officer of the watch, you know--was greasing his jawtackle a good bit. Did he mention where we are bound for?"

"Nothing definite, " replied Vernon. "He said that the ship was undersealed orders. "

"Then it's no use hazarding a guess, " decided Sefton. "It might beanywhere from China to Peru. In any case, it's a change from whatwe've been doing--knocking about in the North Sea, waiting for anappointment which the Germans flatly decline to keep. Four monthssolid, and I've never seen a gun discharged except at target practice. "

During the progress of the meal young Sefton was a little inclined topatronize his guests. Perhaps he did it unconsciously. 

"My governor's a post-captain, " he observed in the course ofconversation. "What's yours?"

"Only an Admiral, " replied Ross. 

"Is he, by Jove!" exclaimed Sefton. "Then why the deuce are you a'with but after'?"

"A what?" asked Trefusis, somewhat mystified. 

"An R. N. R. Man ranks with, but after, an R. N. Fellow with equal rank, "explained the midshipman. "It's a fact: look it up in the King'sRegulations. But, I say, do you play footer? We're in a match. Gun-room versus Ward-room, coming off this week. If you play, I'll getCranbury--he's president of our mess--to put you in the team. "

The meal over, Ross and Vernon were taken to the steerage flat, anelectrically lighted space out of which opened the cabin of the juniorofficers. At the after end of the flat, a marine sentry paced day andnight, his post extending from the stern torpedo-tube to the gun-roomdoor on the port side, and to the armoured door on the starboard side. Amongst his varied and multitudinous duties, particularly strict orderswere given him not to allow anyone to put their hands on thepaintwork--one of the standing orders dating from the prehistoric daysbefore the war, when "spit and polish" were regarded as beingabsolutely essential to the efficiency of H. M. Ships. 

At three bells in the second dog-watch, the _Oxford_ having arrived atthe rendezvous, the sealed orders were opened. It was then found that, in company with the _Guildford_ and the _Launceston_, the cruiser hadto proceed to Halifax, Nova Scotia, to escort a contingent of Canadiantroops to Liverpool. 

This was but one of the manifold odd jobs performed by the British Navyin connection with the war--necessary, but without any prospect ofexcitement. The trip was regarded as a picnic, after weeks ofmonotonous patrol duty, for when 800 miles west of Ireland there waslittle likelihood of falling in with any hostile submarine, while otherGerman craft had been swept off the board months previously. 

On the third day out the football match came off. Ross and Vernon wereincluded in the gun-room team, and never before had they participatedin a rugger match in such strange circumstances. The _Oxford_ waspitching slightly in the long Atlantic swell. The "ground" was theport side of the quarter-deck, nets being rigged up to prevent the ballgetting very much in touch with the sea. The fun was fast and furious, the referee being inclined to tolerance; and before half-time half theplayers were off the field owing to minor injuries, ranging from thesmashing of the Assistant Paymaster's eyeglasses to the laying out ofthe portly Engineer-Commander. 

Suddenly the _Oxford_ turned 8 degrees to starboard. The alteration ofcourse resulted in a break in the game. Something out of the usual hadoccurred for the cruiser, which was the leading vessel in line ahead, to break out of station. 

A bugle sharply sounded the "G"--officers' call. For'ard the bosn'smates' pipes were turning up the hands. The Captain, Commander, andofficer of the watch were on the fore-bridge looking steadily at a darkcloud of smoke showing beyond the horizon. 

It was a ship on fire. The alert officer of the watch had noticed thesmoke, which was much too dense to be caused by the vessel's furnaces. On reporting the matter to the captain, the latter immediately orderedthe _Oxford_ to be steered in that direction. As senior officer, hegave orders for the other cruisers to stand on that course. 

"She's quite a small packet, I should imagine, " remarked one of theSubs. "At any rate she's not fitted with wireless. "

In half an hour the cruiser was sufficiently near to see clearly thedistressed vessel. She was a cargo-boat of about two thousand tons. Amidships, flames were mounting fiercely from her hatches. She hadstopped her engines, and was preparing to lower boats. Aft, she flewthe Stars and Stripes, upside down as a signal of distress. 

The ship was doomed. Fanned by the light breeze, the flames wererapidly spreading. Her cargo undoubtedly consisted of highlyinflammable material, since it blazed freely, while the smoke smeltstrongly of burnt oil. 

The _Oxford_ stopped at four cables' length to windward of the burningship. She could do nothing beyond rescuing the crew on board. Therewas no necessity to lower her boats, since the cargo-boat obviously hadenough for all hands. 

At length the boats of the unfortunate ship were lowered. There was noundue haste. Men deliberately threw their bundles into the arms oftheir waiting comrades before they swarmed down the falls. The captainwas the last to leave, a bulge under his coat betraying the fact thathe had taken the ship's papers with him. 

"Nothing of an explosive nature in her cargo, " said Ross to his chum. "Otherwise they would have sheered off a bit quicker. My word, how shedoes burn! Isn't it a grand sight?"

"Yes, " admitted Vernon. "It's lucky there's help at hand. Knockingabout in the boats in mid-Atlantic must be ten times as bad as in theEnglish Channel. "

"I beg to differ, " remarked one of the Subs who was standing by. "There's not so much shipping, I'll admit, but the waves are longer andmore regular in mid-ocean. It's marvellous what an open boat can dowhen she's put to it, except in very broken water. "

The boats were now approaching the _Oxford_. A monkey-ladder had beenlowered to enable the men to surmount the lofty side of the cruiser, while the sailors, always ready to lend a hand in cases of distress, were swarming down to the net-shelves in readiness to receive thepersonal belongings of the American seamen. 

"Look!" whispered Vernon. "Isn't that chap like our old palRamblethorne?"

He pointed to a tall, bronzed man clad in canvas jumper and trousers, and wearing a grey slouched hat. He was sitting in the stern-sheets ofthe second boat, with his shoulders hunched and his face half-averted. 

"Like him?" echoed Ross. "By Jove, it's he, right enough!"

Trefusis was right. Von Hauptwald, alias Ramblethorne, had succeededin evading the hue and cry after his escape on Harley Bank, and hadcontinued to remain hidden in the house of a naturalized German inCheshire until the search for him had somewhat relaxed. 

He then managed to ship as a fireman on board a vessel bound forMontreal, knowing that his chances of getting out of Great Britainwould be greater if he made for a Dominion port rather than one in theUnited States. 

At Montreal he promptly deserted, made his way across the border, andthence to New York. Here he picked up with a German-Americanshipowner, who readily agreed to help him back to Germany. 

A cargo-boat, the _Tehuantepec Girl_, was loading with a cargoconsisting of cotton, ready-made clothing, and leather equipment. Nominally her destination was Leith. Her manifest and bill of ladingwere made out to that effect, but secretly her skipper had instructionsto make for Stockholm. If he were overhauled and taken into Lerwick bya British patrol-boat, well and good. The owners must be compensatedby the British Government, even if the _Tehuantepec Girl_ was miles outof her course for Leith. On the other hand, if the boat succeeded inreaching the Baltic, she would be conveniently "captured", by previousarrangement, by a German cruiser or destroyer and taken into Kiel. 

Unfortunately the fact of keeping secret the real destination of the_Tehuantepec Girl_ led to her undoing. A German dock-hand, who wasreally in the pay of the Teutonic Government, had placed an infernalmachine in the cargo, setting it to explode two days after leaving NewYork. 

In less than a quarter of an hour after the discovery of the outbreak, the fire had taken such a firm hold that all attempts to subdue it werehopeless. 

And now von Hauptwald, in the disguise of a Yankee deck-hand, was beingrowed towards a craft which he would have given almost anything toavoid--a British cruiser. 

Still, he was not dismayed. The chances of detection were absurdlysmall. None of the _Tehuantepec Girl's_ crew knew his true personalityexcept the captain, and he was to be handsomely rewarded as soon as thespy was safe in German territory. On the other hand, there might beone amongst the 655 forming the complement of the _Oxford_ who mightrecognize the one-time doctor who had lived at Devonport. 

"Let's get out of his way, " suggested Vernon. "We'll inform theCommander, and he will order him to be put under arrest. "

"I'm not going to budge, " declared Ross. "If he sees us, what can hedo?"

"I'm not afraid of him, " protested Haye. 

"Very well, then; let's stop where we are. He's got to know sooner orlater. "

The first boat had already delivered her human cargo Upon the cruiser'squarter-deck. As each man's name was taken down by the master-at-armshe was sent forward. The first mate remained in conversation with theCommander until the arrival of the _Tehuantepec Girl's_ skipper. 

Von Hauptwald was one of the last men to come aboard. As he swunghimself over the rail he gave a swift glance at the group of officers. His eye caught that of Ross Trefusis. 

For a moment the spy thought that he was mistaken, but a second glimpseconfirmed his suspicions. 

"Steady on there!" shouted the Commander. "What the deuce are you upto?"

Von Hauptwald had broken into a run across the quarter-deck. With abound he cleared the stanchion-rails, and plunged head foremost intothe sea. 

He had realized that to remain on the cruiser meant arrest and ultimatedeath as a dangerous spy. Better by far to be drowned without furtherdelay than to experience all the horrors of lying under sentence ofdeath. 

He had acted spontaneously, yet there was method in his madness. Byrunning across to the other side of the ship there was little chance ofthe boats being able to pick him up ere he sank for the last time. Notuntil he rose to the surface did he realize his difficulty. He was astrong swimmer, and the natural instinct to strike out overpowered hisdetermination to sink. 

There was a rush of officers and men to the ship's side to see what wastaking place. With two exceptions, they thought that the supposedseaman had suddenly lost his reason. 

Two seamen, one a brawny specimen, the other a red-hairedmiddle-weight, dived after the would-be suicide. Others were on thepoint of following when the Commander restrained them. 

"Away sea-boat!" was the order. 

The _Oxford_ was now forging slowly through the water. During therescue of the _Tehuantepec Girl's_ people, she had drifted rather tooclose to the burning ship to be safe, should an explosion occur. Already von Hauptwald was fifty yards astern, with the two seamenswimming towards him with powerful strokes. 

His efforts to drown were a failure. He simply couldn't keep his headunder. His attempts to swallow quantities of salt water only increasedthe instinctive motion of the limbs to keep himself afloat. Bitterlyhe regretted that he had not picked up some heavy metal object duringhis career across the cruiser's quarterdeck. 

The approach of his would-be rescuers made him realize the necessity ofself-destruction. At the encouraging shout of "Cheer up, old mate, you're safe!" spluttered by the leading seaman, he dived, pressing hischest with both hands in the hope that he would be able to expel theair from his lungs. 

A horny hand gripped him by the arm. He felt himself being drawn tothe surface. As his head appeared, he swung round and dealt the seamana powerful blow with his fist. The man, taken completely by surprise, relaxed his grip. Von Hauptwald's blow had almost broken his shoulder. 

"Be careful, Ginger!" he shouted to his mate. "He's fair balmy. Mindhe don't plug you. "

The second seaman swam in a circle just beyond reach of the spy's arm. His attempt to get behind the German failed, for the simple reason thatvon Hauptwald gave no opportunity for an attack in the rear. The othersailor, floating on his back and rubbing his injured arm, was contentto shout advice and await developments. 

The red-haired man was not deficient in courage, but he did not at allrelish the idea of tackling single-handed a powerfully builtmaniac--for such he took the spy to be. He wisely awaited the approachof the _Oxford's_ sea-boat, which, manned by four rowers who wereencouraged by Midshipman Setley, was being urged rapidly towards thescene. 

"Way enough!" shouted the middy. 

The bowman boated his oar and leant over the bows. As he did so vonHauptwald avoided his grip, and, seizing the boat's keel, brought hishead in violent contact with the elm planking. 

Then it was that Ginger saw his chance and took it. Grabbing theGerman by the legs, he hung on like grim death, shouting to hiscomrades to "tackle the lubber". 

Within an ace of capsizing the boat, von Hauptwald was hauled on board. He fought desperately. For a moment it seemed as if he would more thanhold his own against the four seamen, until one of them, seizing astretcher, dealt the spy a crack on the head that laid him senselessacross the thwarts. 

"Couldn't help it, sir, " exclaimed the man apologetically. 

"You did perfectly right, Dickenson, " said the midshipman. "He'sproperly mad. Come on, you men, are you going to bathe for the rest ofthe day?"

The victim of von Hauptwald's attack had to be assisted into the boat, which, on making the ship, was quickly hoisted and secured. 

Meanwhile the _Tehuantepec Girl_ was on the point of sinking. Fromstem to stern she was a roaring furnace. Mingled with the roar of theflames could be heard the hiss of water coming in contact with thered-hot plates, while ever and anon came the crash of metal as the deckbeams gave way and fell into the hold. 

Suddenly she parted amidships. The flames died out, overpowered by theinrush of water. A thick column of smoke and steam arose as the bowand stem [Transcriber's note: stern?] portions floated apart. Thenwith the roar of escaping air the remains of the Yankee cargo-boatdisappeared, to find a resting-place 7000 fathoms deep on the bed ofthe Atlantic. 

CHAPTER XXIII

Mined

"So that accounts for the fellow's behaviour, " remarked the Captain ofthe _Oxford_, after Ross and Vernon had communicated their discovery tothe Commander, who in turn reported the news to the skipper. "Thedoctor says he is out of danger, eh? From a medical point of view, nodoubt. Put him in the cells, Master-at-arms. We'll take good care notto land him at Halifax. "

Upon arriving at the Nova Scotian port, whither the _Oxford's_ consortshad preceded her, the officers and crew of the _Tehuantepec Girl_ werelanded. Forty-eight hours elapsed before the transports were ready toleave, and thus Ross and Vernon, with most of the officers of thecruisers, had an opportunity of a "spell ashore". 

On the homeward run nothing untoward occurred, except that, instead ofproceeding to Liverpool, the cruisers and their convoy were suddenlyordered by wireless to make for the Clyde. 

Off the Pladda Light the transports were met by a flotilla ofdestroyers, while the cruisers were ordered to proceed via Cape Wrathto rejoin the fleet at Rosyth. Without slackening speed the threecruisers flung about, and steered a course immediately opposed to theone they had previously been following. Experience had told them thatspeed was one of the essentials to safety, even when in land-lockedwaters such as the Firth of Clyde. 

"You don't look like leaving us in a hurry, " remarked MidshipmanSefton, when he communicated the latest change of plans to Trefusis andhis chum. 

"We don't mind in the slightest, " Ross hastened to assure him. "It'sjolly comfortable on board the _Oxford_. "

"Wait until we're ordered straight away for patrol work, " said Sefton. "It's more than likely that we may be pushed off to the Norwegian coastwithout having so much as a sniff at Rosyth. We'll just about hit theequinoctial gales, and in those latitudes they get ice and snow prettyearly in the autumn. But, by the by, I heard the doctor tell theCommander that your pal, von Hauptwald, is in a pretty state of funk. "

"I shouldn't wonder, " replied Ross. "A court-martial will make itpretty hot for him. "

"It's hardly that, " said Sefton. "The fellow's absolutely crazy withfear. He's been imploring the master-at-arms and the sentry on thecells to ask the skipper to shift him above the water-line. It's onlysince the ship arrived in home waters, so it seems as if he's in mortaldread of being cooped up below and the _Oxford_ being mined ortorpedoed. "

"And what did the Captain say?"

"Merely told the M. A. A. To carry on. Since the cells are below thewater-line, and the King's Regulations say that prisoners are to beplaced in cells, that ends the matter. "

Passing through the Little Minch, and continually steering an erraticcourse in order to baffle any unterseebooten, should they be operatingoff the West coast of Scotland, the _Oxford_ rounded Cape Wrath. 

In spite of a rapidly falling glass the weather still remained fine, although the heavy swell encountered off the coast of Sutherland andCaithness betokened, in conjunction with the barometer, a gale at nodistant date. 

"This will be you fellows' last night on board, " remarked Farnworth, one of the Acting Sub-lieutenants, as Ross and Vernon prepared to turninto their hammocks after a strenuous sing-song in the gun-room mess. "We'll be at Rosyth before noon to-morrow. 'Fraid it's been a bit tameafter the _Capella_. Beyond that affair of the _Tehuantepec Girl_there hasn't been much doing. The small fry get all the excitement, I'm sorry to say. These armoured cruisers seem to be neither fish, fowl, nor good red herring in these times. "

It seemed to Ross that he had been asleep only a few minutes when hewas suddenly awakened by a terrific crash, followed by a concussionthat shook the cruiser from stem to stern. His hammock rolled soviolently that he promptly fell out on the floor of the flat. Beforehe could rise, the occupant of the next hammock tried his level best tothrust his toes into Trefusis' mouth. The rest of the midshipmen, whowere watch below, were either thrown from their hammocks or had leapthurriedly from them. The electric lights were out. The shock hadeither shattered the carbon threads or had broken the wires. 

"Torpedoed!" exclaimed a junior midshipman. 

"Dry up!" ordered Sefton sternly. "On deck all of you; there's the'Action' bugle--no, it's 'Collision Stations'. "

Just then a light appeared. The sentry in the steerage flat had litone of the bulkhead lamps, which are always in readiness for use in theevent of a break-down in the electric current. 

The cruiser was listing perceptibly to starboard. 

She was in danger of turning turtle and foundering, but even in theface of death not one of the handful of young officers showed thefaintest sign of fear. If in their inmost minds the lads were a littletimorous, they bravely kept their feelings to themselves. They werepart and parcel of a British warship's complement. They had areputation to maintain--the reputation of a Navy dating back forcenturies. It was in safe keeping, for the _Oxford's_ midshipmen weremade of the right stuff. 

A few made a hasty dive into their sea-chests to make sure of someprecious article. Others scrambled into their thick coats, banteringeach other as they did so. 

Overhead, the noise of hundreds of feet could be heard as the mendoubled aft to the quarter-deck. Above the tumult rose the shrillpipes of the bos'n's mates' whistles, and the hoarse shouts of "Ondeck, every mother's son of you!" bawled by a leather-lunged pettyofficer. 

"We don't want to leave you, but we fear that we must go, " parodied oneof the midshipmen, giving a farewell glimpse into the gun-room that hadbeen his home for the last fifteen months. "Come on, you fellows, who's going to enter for the long-distance swimming race?"

Up the ladder swept the throng of youthful humanity, followed by thesentry, who had received orders to abandon his post. On the half-deck, the gun-room officers met the swarm of senior officers issuing fromtheir cabins, mostly clad in pyjamas and uniform caps. TheGunnery-lieutenant was afterwards heard to declare solemnly that he hadseen the Paymaster issuing from the ship's office with the ledger onhis head, while under his left arm he held his cap. 

"Let's stick together, old man!" exclaimed Ross as the chums gained thequarter-deck. 

The first hurried rush aft had now given place to strict discipline. The men were falling in as calmly as if mustered for divisions. Somewere blowing up their pneumatic swimming-collars, others helping toadjust a comrade's life-belt. A few were joking and talking, none ofthe officers gainsaying them. By virtue of an unwritten law the menwere allowed to smoke, and the odour of strong tobacco wafted acrossthe broad quarterdeck. 

"Got a fag, Lofty?" Vernon overheard a burly stoker ask his neighbour. 

"No; I don't smoke, mate, " replied the man. 

"You will soon, " replied the stoker, and a roar of merriment rose fromthe lips of the men within hearing. They thought the retort was asmart bit of humour, and, when at length the implied nature of theman's words dawned upon him, even Vernon had to smile. 

From the after bridge, search-lights were playing upon the waves. Thelight quick-firers were manned ready to deal with any visible foe. Onthe navigation bridge the Captain, with the officer of the watch, waspacing calmly up and down the slightly inclined structure. 

Presently he was joined by two dark forms--the Commander and thecarpenter. A bugle sounded the "Still". A hush fell upon the swarm ofhumanity, the silence being broken only by the hiss of escaping steam, and the rush of water under the action of the powerful Downton pumps. 

"My lads!" shouted the skipper. "The old ship is holding out. We'llget her into dock yet. Pipe down!"

The _Oxford_ had not been struck by a torpedo. Examination showed thatshe had bumped against a mine, with the result that the forecompartments were flooded. Fortunately the transverse bulkhead andwatertight doors withstood the strain of the terrific inrush of water. Although well down by the bows the cruiser was in no immediate danger. 

The watch below disappeared from sight; those of the officers who werenot on duty retired to their cabins, yet few of them slept again thatnight. 

As Ross and his chum were about to leave the quarterdeck, the Commanderstrode by. 

"Pass the word for the master-at-arms, " he ordered. "Master-at-armswent below, sir, to release the prisoners, " reported a petty officer. 

"By Jove!" whispered Ross. "I'd clean forgotten Ramblethorne. Iwonder how he liked the business?"

"Let's wait, " suggested Vernon. 

They took up their position on the leeward side of the after 7. 5-inchgun-shield. Here they were sheltered from the wind and out of sight ofthe alert Commander, although they could hear what was being said. 

"Master-at-arms is in the sick-bay, sir, " reported the messenger as hecame up at the double. "He's nearly done for, trying to get to theprisoners. The ship's corporal managed to release the two ordinaryseamen, but the spy's done in, sir--I mean he's drownded. "

Almost immediately following the explosion, the master-at-arms hadhurried to the cells. The flat was in darkness. The sentry on No. 6post, in charge of the prisoners, was lying stunned on the floor of thepassage. Water was surging aft. Already it was up to the knees of themaster-at-arms as he plunged through the gloom towards his goal. 

The three prisoners were shouting in mad panic. They realized theirawful peril. Caged like rats in a trap, they felt certain that thecruiser was foundering, and that they would be carried down in a livingtomb until the pressure of water burst open the comparatively strongsteel walls of the cell. 

At length the chief of the ship's police forced the door of thenearmost cell. By sheer good luck he inserted the key into the lockwithout having to fumble for the opening. The prisoner, a young seamanwho had broken out of the ship at Halifax, was too terrified to knowhis way to safety. He clutched at the master-at-arms, following him tothe next cell. 

The water was now waist-deep. In trying to find the keyhole themaster-at-arms dropped the keys. It took some minutes to find them--aloss of valuable time. 

The noise of the inrushing water was deafening. For all the pettyofficer knew, the ship might be about to make her last plunge. Yet hisduty lay before him. At the risk of his life the prisoners must be setfree. 

A light appeared upon the scene. A ship's corporal, bearing a lantern, descended to the flat with the laudable intention, of assisting hissuperior. 

The door of the second cell flew open, but a rush of water on theflood, under the movement of the stricken vessel surged and swept themaster-at-arms off his feet. His forehead came in violent contact withthe steel frame of the door, and, rendered senseless, he droppedinertly upon the flooded floor of the passage. 

"Pull yourselves together, men!" exclaimed the corporal to the twoprisoners. "You're all right. Bear a hand here. "

Together they carried the unconscious master-at-arms out of the flat. The corporal returned to liberate the occupier of the third cell--vonHauptwald. But once again the keys were missing, having slipped fromthe insensible man's hand. 

The water in the confined space was now shoulder-deep. The corporalcould hear the stout bulkhead groaning under the pressure. Fixing thelantern on a bracket he dived, groping with both hands for the keys. At length he found them, and threw open the door of the cell. 

"Out you come!" he shouted. 

There was no reply. Von Hauptwald had ceased to shout for someminutes. The silence was ominous. 

A movement of the badly stricken ship sent the water well over thecorporal's head. He was swept off his feet. It was time for him toget back to safety. He had done all he could. The spy was dead. 

CHAPTER XXIV

"Shrap"

It was late in the afternoon when the _Oxford_ arrived, under her ownsteam, at Rosyth. Although the dry docks were in use, accommodationwas quickly found for the damaged cruiser by the simple expedient offloating out a battleship that was being cleaned and recoated withanti-fouling composition. Since speed is an absolute necessity forefficiency in war-time, it was the practice to dock all the ships ofthe battle-cruiser and armoured cruiser class in rotation, the marginof safety being sufficient to allow this to be done without impairingthe strength of the squadrons. 

By the aid of powerful arc-lamps the dockyard hands took the crippled_Oxford_ into dock, and, the caisson having been replaced, the waterwas quickly pumped out. The damage done was found, on examination, tobe limited to a space extending 30 feet from the bows. The actualaperture caused by the explosion measured 6 feet by 30 inches, but theadjacent plates had been buckled and the bolts "started" under theviolent concussion. Well it was that the armoured bulkhead hadwithstood the strain, otherwise nothing could have saved the ship. 

There was no delay in setting to work. Almost before the last of thewater had been pumped out of the dock, stagings were built up round thebows, and scores of shipwrights set to work to rebuild the damagedportion of the hull. Under normal conditions the work would have takena couple of months, but, by working day and night, the efficientdockyard staff hoped to effect repairs within nine days. 

Since the commencement of the greatest war the world has ever yet seen, it was the custom to allow the officers and crews of torpedoed or minedships--if they were fortunate enough to be numbered amongst thesurvivors--seven days' leave. A rest on shore was necessary for thecrews to recover from the mental shock, for it was found that althoughthe men might escape from physical injury and appear bright andcheerful immediately after the occurrence, the reaction was most markedat about forty-eight hours afterwards. 

Ross and Vernon, although not borne in the books of the _Oxford_, received permission to go on leave. Since Haye's father was somewherein the North Sea, and he had no near relatives, he gladly acceptedRoss's offer to sample again the hospitality of Killigwent Hall. 

It was late when their train arrived at King's Cross; so much so thatthe lads realized it would be useless to attempt to catch the Cornwallexpress that would land them at St. Bedal just before midnight. 

"I vote we have an evening in town, " suggested Vernon. "Let's go to atheatre. It seems ages since I was inside a music hall, or even apicture palace. "

"All right, " agreed Ross. "We'll have a jolly good square meal beforewe go. I know of a decent little hotel just off the Strand. "

The two midshipmen took the Underground as far as Charing Cross. Asthey emerged from the station they renewed their acquaintance with themetropolis in war-time. The streets were plunged in almost Stygiandarkness. Omnibuses and taxicabs crawled painfully through the gloom;pedestrians were cannoning into each other at every step. The onlyrelief to the blackness were the two search-lights from the AdmiraltyArch that swung like gigantic pendulums across the dark and misty sky. 

"Let's get out of it, " exclaimed Ross, as he just managed to savehimself from being run down by a motor-car. "It's a jolly sight moredangerous than keeping the middle watch on the old _Capella_. "

Five minutes later they were sitting down to an ample dinner, providedat a cost that proved pretty conclusively the futility of the Germansubmarine blockade. In the well-lighted room there was little tosuggest that business was not proceeding "as usual", except perhaps thepredominance of khaki-clad officers. 

A string band was discoursing the latest operatic music, the dinerswere laughing and chattering. Within, the gaiety and light-heartednesscontrasted violently with the dismal gloom inflicted upon themetropolis as a result of precautions adopted by the triple authoritiesresponsible for its defence against air-craft. 

Presently the band finished one item on the programme. The comparativesilence that followed was almost immediately interrupted by a series ofsharp reports, punctuated by a deeper crash. 

"Zepps!" exclaimed a dozen voices. 

Instantly there was a rush--not for the deep cellars underneath thebuilding, but for the open street. The white faces of a few of theguests showed that they had, perhaps, a little anxiety, but for themost part an excitable curiosity took possession of the crowd. 

"Come on!" exclaimed Ross to his chum. "Let's see the fun. We haven'thad a chance of seeing a real Zepp before. "

The lad's words voiced the thoughts of nine-tenths of the dwellers ofthe metropolis who were within sight of the would-be Terror of the Air. Useless, indeed, were the official warnings as to the right thing to bedone when the Zeppelins came. One man, however, drew a respirator froma hand-bag and proceeded to don it, until a roar of laughter from thestream of people issuing from the hotel caused him somewhatshamefacedly to replace the useless article. 

Into the street the lads elbowed their way. The progress through thelong corridor of the hotel reminded them of a football scrum. It wasnot the blind rush of panic; merely a desire to lose nothing of the"fun". 

A couple of thousand feet overhead, a silvery-grey, bluff-pointedcylinder was moving with apparent slowness. Half a dozen search-lightsconcentrated their beams upon it. All around were rings of smoke, marking the bursting shells from the anti-aircraft guns; yet, apparently untouched by the hail of bullets, the giant gas-bag passedon, hurling out death and destruction upon the greatest city onearth--a city that, until the present war, had only once heard thethunder of hostile guns. 

Breathlessly the lads watched the progress of the huge Zeppelin, momentarily expecting it to collapse and come tumbling, a tangled massof flaming wreckage, to the ground. Viewed from below, it seemedimpossible for the airship to escape the bursting shells. The air wasrent by the crash of falling bombs and the sharp reports of the"anti's", while in the distance could be heard the clatter of brokenglass. The explosive bombs wrought havoc upon the homes of harmlessLondoners. Flames, too, were springing up, throwing a lurid glare uponthe sky. 

Yet, unless actually within radius of the German explosives, thepopulace was remarkably calm. Men, women, and children watched theZeppelin, much in the same way as if they were witnessing a Brock'sdisplay at the Crystal Palace. Once again German frightfulness hadfailed--and failed badly--to attain its desired end. 

"Hurrah! She's got it properly in the neck, " shouted an excitedspecial constable, as the Zeppelin gave a sudden lurch and began todrop at an acute angle. 

But the next instant the silvery envelope was hidden in a cloud ofdense black smoke. Seconds passed, but no shattered wreckage streamedearthwards. When the vapour dispersed, the Zeppelin was nowhere to beseen. Under cover of the smoke-cloud she had dropped a large quantityof ballast, and had soared skyward to a great altitude. 

Gradually, like the rumble of a passing thunderstorm, the reports ofthe distant anti-aircraft guns died away. The Zepps had takenthemselves off, leaving half a dozen fires and hundreds of more or lessdamaged buildings to impress upon the strafed English that insularityis no longer a protection from the cowardly night-raiders of the air. 

"The show's over, " declared Ross. "I vote we turn in. By Jove, there'll be a rush to the recruiting offices to-morrow!"

Requesting to be called at eight, the two midshipmen entered the liftand were whisked up to their room. 

"What's that noise?" asked Vernon, pausing in the midst of unpackinghis portmanteau. 

"Something in the corridor, " replied Ross. 

"I don't think so. It's something or someone under my bed. Lock thedoor, old man; no, don't ring, if it's a burglar we'll tackle him. "

Haye knelt by the bedside, Ross standing behind him ready to grapplewith the intruder. Cautiously Vernon lifted the valance. As he did sohe quickly withdrew his hand, which had come in contact with somethingwarm and moist. 

"Dash it all!" he exclaimed. "It's a dog. Come out, sir!"

He was right. The animal gave a low whine, but made no attempt tobudge. 

"Mind the brute doesn't fix you, " cautioned Ross. 

"No fear, " replied his chum confidently. "All dogs take to me. Comealong, old boy. "

Again he groped with his hand. His fingers touched the long, silkyhair on the animal's neck. Slowly he drew the creature from its placeof concealment. It was a sheep-dog pup, of about four months. 

"Pretty-looking dog, " exclaimed Vernon. "I wonder how it came here?Suppose it was frightened at the racket. It looks terrified out of itswits. Good dog!"

The pup fixed its large brown eyes upon Vernon's face, and attempted towag its stumpy tail. As it did so the lads discovered that its hindquarters were tinged with blood. 

"Oh, you poor little beggar!" said Vernon sympathetically. "Howeverdid you get that? I say, Ross, fill that basin with water. "

"Better send for the boots, " suggested Trefusis. "He'll take it to avet. 's, or perhaps he'll know whose dog it is. "

"Not much chance of finding a vet. At this time of night, " objectedVernon. "Even the chemist will be busy with minor casualties. No, Iwon't worry the management. I've doctored dogs before now. "

He began bathing the matted hair. The flow of blood had ceased, butupon examining the wound he found that it was a small circular incision. 

He felt the spot. The pup, hitherto patient, uttered a low moan. 

"There's something hard there, " reported Vernon. "It's only a littleway under the skin. We'll have it out. Hold his head, old man. Don'tlet him yelp; keep your hand over his muzzle. I'm afraid I must hurtthe poor little beggar a bit. "

Using the little blade of a knife, Haye adroitly probed the wound. Soft-hearted as he was, the action seemed to hurt him more than thepatient; but his efforts were rewarded by the extraction of a smallsteel ball. 

"A shrapnel bullet!" exclaimed Ross. "That accounts for the poorlittle brute being in such a terrible funk. Give him a drink of water. He'll be better now. We can bandage the wound with our handkerchiefs. "

Five minutes later the dumb patient, his hind quarters swathed inelaborate bandages, was lying contentedly upon the hearth-rug, hisstumpy tail, protruding between the folds of linen, wagging, as hetried to express his gratitude in doggy fashion. 

"Now what's to be done?" enquired Ross. 

"Let him stop until morning, " replied Vernon decisively. "There mightbe a row if the hotel people know that there's a dog in the bedroom. The owner can't be much of a chap if he doesn't make enquiries. "

"Perhaps he hasn't missed the dog, " suggested Ross; "or it's justlikely he isn't stopping at the hotel. Well, here goes. I'm turningin. "

Ten minutes later both midshipmen were fast asleep. They had no middlewatch to keep, and as for Zeppelins, they were merely a passing show. 

At daylight Vernon was awakened by something licking his face. Thepup, having shown his contempt for bandages by biting them to ribbons, was standing on his hind legs and licking his benefactor's nose, whilehis tail was wagging with the rapidity of the flag of an expertsignaller. The hardy little animal had made light of his wound. 

Having dressed, the midshipman made enquiries of the waiter, butwithout satisfactory results. No one in the hotel had a dog. 

"I'll report him to the police, " decided Vernon. "Ten to one the ownerwon't claim him. At any rate I'll stick to him. He's awfully fond ofme already. "

After breakfast Vernon sent the obliging waiter to purchase a collar, for the sheep-dog was wearing none. Sticking closely to Vernon'sheels, the pup followed his new master to the police station, where aninspector took down a number of particulars. 

"Very good, sir; that's all I want. I don't fancy you'll hear any moreabout it. "

"What are you going to call him?" asked Ross, as the chums were seatedin a first-class carriage, with the dog at Vernon's feet, on their wayto Cornwall. 

"Zepp, " replied Vernon promptly. 

"Not patriotic, " objected Ross with a laugh. 

"I think so, " rejoined his chum. 

"Why?"

"Because, like last night's Zeppelin, he turned tail when he had ashrapnel bullet in his stern. "

"That's all very well, " said Ross, "but you can't explain all that toeveryone. Why not call him Shrapnel?"

"All right. 'Shrap' for short, " agreed Vernon. "Good boy, Shrap! Wagyour tail, you little rascal. "

And Shrap obeyed promptly. Evidently the choice of a name reminiscentof bodily injury troubled him not one jot. 

CHAPTER XXV

Off the Belgian Coast

"A chance of seeing something exciting at last!" exclaimed Ross. "Ofcourse we've not had altogether a dull time, but this ought to beabsolutely 'it'. "

Two months had elapsed since the lads saw a hostile air-ship overLondon. Now they were about to see what a fleet of heavily armedBritish ships could do--not against a practically defenceless town, butagainst the strongly fortified German batteries on the Belgian coast. 

Trefusis and Haye were on board the _Capella_, lying in the outerharbour at Dover. It was not the _Capella_ that had come offsecond-best in an encounter with a floating mine, but another, similarin almost every respect to the lost patrol-boat. She was manned, too, by the same officers and crew--with one exception. Sub-lieutenant JohnBarry had obtained his promotion, and had been appointed to H. M. S. _Hunbilker_ in command. 

What the _Hunbilker_ was, no one on board the _Capella_ knew. TheAdmiralty publications at their disposal were blank as far as that shipwas concerned. Speculation ran high: some of the officers expressingtheir opinion that Barry's command was a subsidized cargo-boat; othersthat she was one of the mosquito flotilla that had been evolved out ofmodern naval requirements. All were wrong, as they had yet to learnsomething more of the type of vessel flying the White Ensign that washelping to sweep the seas of the Black Cross of Germany. 

"Well, old boy, how do you think you will like the racket?" askedVernon, stooping to pat the massive head of a healthy-lookingsheep-dog. Shrap had been allowed, by the Captain's permission, tojoin the _Capella_ as a mascot--the pet of both officers and crew, andof Vernon Haye in particular. 

Shrap winked knowingly, then trotted off to a secluded part of thechart-room, where, under a locker, he had hidden the remains of what, half an hour previously, had been Sub-lieutenant Fox's shaving-brush. 

The _Capella_ was by no means the only craft rolling sluggishly in thevast artificial harbour. There were seven motor patrol-vessels, specially detailed for the forthcoming operations as tenders to thesea-planes. 

A strong array of monitors, craft of ugly but utilitarian design, low-lying, and mounting two 14-inch guns, had assembled for the purposeof making it hot for the Hun on the morrow. Only light-draughted craftwere to be employed in the attack, since they could approach withinvery effective range of their guns, and at the same time stand littlechance of being torpedoed by a handful of unterseebooten that had beentransported in sections to Zeebrugge and there fitted for service. 

According to the Admiral's plan, the monitors were to approach Ostendjust after daybreak. In the offing a number of empty transports wereto assemble, protected by a powerful flotilla of destroyers. Theappearance of these transports would be taken by the Germans as anindication of an attempted landing of a British force, and troops wouldbe hurriedly massed to repel the threatened invasion. 

The monitors were thereupon to fire a certain number of rounds, then, followed in a parallel course by the transports, make for Zeebrugge. Alternate visits to both the Belgian ports in German hands were to bemade throughout the day, thereby wearing out the German troops infruitless marching and counter-marching, and at the same time divertinga strong body of men from a section of the trenches upon which theBritish troops were to deliver a sudden and unexpected assault. 

At four in the morning the monitors began to leave Dover Harbour. Thanks to the stringent military precautions taken in thetown--precautions that could with decided advantage be imitatedelsewhere--the presence of spies was almost, if not quite, a matter ofimpossibility. Unheralded by the Kaiser's agents, the small yetpowerful vessels cleared the entrance to the breakwater and headed forthe Belgian coast. 

An hour later a masthead lamp blinked from the _Vega_--the seniorofficer's ship of the patrol flotilla. Then, in line ahead, the swiftmotor craft slipped quietly out of the harbour to overtake their slowerconsorts. 

The _Capella_, like the rest of her sister ships, was cleared foraction. Stanchion-rails were unshipped; everything likely to splinterwas sent below. In the wake of the armoured protection, sandbags wereplaced to reinforce the steel plating. Although the patrol-vesselswere not to take part in the bombardment, they had to be prepared incase a forlorn hope in the shape of a few German torpedo-boats mightattempt a sudden onslaught. 

As attendants upon the sea-planes, too, it was possible that thepatrol-boats would have to approach within range of the garrisonartillery, especially in the event of one of the aerial craft beingdisabled and falling into the sea, on its return from "spotting" thehits of the monitors' guns. 

Dawn had not yet broken when the monitors, followed at two miles'distance by the motor patrol, came in sight of the search-lights on thelow-lying Belgian coast. Beyond the limit of direct rays, yet withinrange of their monster guns, the monitors were safe from detection. All that was wanting was the presence of the sea-planes, for whose workdaylight was essential. 

Slowly a pale light spread on the north-eastern horizon. The shortwintry day was breaking. The sea was calm. The air was piercinglycold. A thin coating of frost covered the _Capella's_ deck. Ross andhis chum were heartily glad of their thick pilot-coats, mufflers, andwoollen "mitts", as they sheltered behind the breast-work erected onthe bridge. 

Captain Syllenger slowly paced the bridge, frequently glancing at theclock in the chart-room, since it was almost a matter of impossibilityto consult his watch, owing to his generous accumulation of clothing. It was now nearly eight o'clock, but as yet there were no signs of theexpected sea-planes. 

Just then the dull morning light was pierced by a brilliant flash fromone of the monitors. The watchers on the _Capella's_ bridge could seethe low-lying hull give a decided jerk in a sternward direction underthe reaction of the enormous projectile. 

Long before the shell reached its objective, other 14-inch guns addedtheir quota, and the air was rent with the flashes of the ordnance andthe ear-splitting detonations following the discharge. 

"By Jove!" exclaimed Sub-lieutenant Fox, who with his brother officershad had telescopes levelled upon the faintly outlined sand dunes. "There are the sea-planes!"

He was right. Flying at a great height the air-squadron had passedover the warships, and had taken up their observation stations withoutbeing seen or heard by anyone on board the patrol-vessels immediatelyover the German batteries, they were cutting "figure eights" anddescribing seemingly erratic circles, while the observers, coollywirelessing the results of the monitors' shells, hardly heeded thefurious fire directed upon them by the hostile anti-aircraft guns. 

On a point extending for nearly three miles, the shore was torn by theterrific explosive shells. Clouds of sand, and yellow smoke mingledmarked the scene of destruction, as battery after battery was spottedand promptly put out of action. Across the dunes could be seen swarmsof ant-like figures--German troops flying for shelter from thedevastating fire of the British guns. 

But the action was by no means a one-sided one. Guns, large and small, replied; the heavier ordnance vigorously at first, and then graduallyslackening down as the lyddite shells sought out the fixedemplacements. The lighter guns, mounted on armoured motor-cars, gavemore trouble, since, after every shot, each piece was moved a hundredyards or more. 

For several minutes the lads watched the unusual spectacle through thebinoculars. Then something resembling a concentrated tornado screechedabove their heads. Instinctively they ducked, the glasses falling fromtheir hands. Ten seconds later Ross ventured to look up. Vernon wasstill holding his hands over his face. Then slowly he, too, opened hiseyes. 

The lads smiled sadly at each other, picked up their binoculars, andsomewhat shamefacedly resumed their former positions. 

It was their baptism of heavy gun-fire. A 42-centimetre shell hadricochetted and leapt full twenty feet above their heads. 

Captain Syllenger was standing a few paces from them. Luckily, thoughtRoss, the skipper's back was turned, and he had not noticed the actionof his young subordinates. But Trefusis was wrong. The Captain hadseen them. Out of consideration, for he remembered his own sensationswhen first under fire, he affected not to notice the temporary panicthat had overtaken the midshipmen. 

The _Capella_ was now running at half speed, in a direction parallel tothe shore. All around, the sea was torn by the falling projectiles, most of which were sufficiently large to send her to the bottom like astone. Yet, beyond the wounding of her wireless operator, the loss ofher signalling-mast, and the shattering of one of her boats, she cameoff lightly. Although not the object of the hostile guns, she narrowlyescaped several ricochets, until, at a signal from the senior officer, the patrol-vessels withdrew to a safer distance. 

One of the monitors, too, was slowly steaming seawards, well down bythe bows and smoke issuing from her fo'c'sle, while her single funnelwas riddled like a sieve. 

"Sea-plane returning, sir!" announced Sub-lieutenant Fox. 

Flying at an altitude of about a thousand feet, one of the aerialscouts was making towards the line of patrol-vessels. She was flyingsteadily; her motor was purring rhythmically; a trail of thin bluishsmoke from her exhaust belied the suggestion of an overheated engine. Yet something must have taken place for her to have quitted herobservation station. 

Promptly Captain Syllenger gave orders for the _Capella's_ motors tostop, then "Easy astern" until way was off the ship. 

Making a graceful volplane, the sea-plane alighted with a faint splashupon the surface of the water, and "taxied" to leeward of themotionless vessel. 

The sea-plane was a "two-seater". The rearmost or observer's seat wasunoccupied. In the foremost was a young Flight-Sub-lieutenant heavilyclad, and his clean-shaven face almost hidden by an airman's helmet. For the first time, the officers on the bridge of the _Capella_ noticedthat the light steel plating was holed in many places, while the planesbore testimony to the accuracy of the enemy's shrapnel. 

"A casualty!" sang out the Flying officer. "My pilot's been hit. Canyou take him on board?"

Two of the _Capella's_ crew swarmed over the side and gained thenearmost float, whence they clambered upon the body of the sea-plane. At the same time, one of the davits from which the _Capella's_shattered boat had hung was slung outboard. By dint of carefulmanoeuvring, the sea-plane was brought alongside with her main planespractically parallel to the side of the ship. 

The injured man was lying on the floor of the fuselage. A canvas bandwas strapped round his waist, and, supported by the two seamen, he wasgently hoisted on board the ship by means of the davit tackle. 

The Flight-Sub swung himself over the side of the _Capella_ andascended the bridge. 

"Got it hot at fifteen hundred feet, " he explained. "My pilot waswinged. Hit twice, I believe. Luckily the old bird kept fairly steadyuntil I could clamber into the pilot's seat and take control. Roughluck, too. We were just doing a useful bit of spotting. I suppose, sir, there's no one on board who can handle a 'plane?"

"I'm afraid not, " replied Captain Syllenger. 

"Rough luck!" exclaimed the Sub despondently. Then, brightening up, heasked:

"Can you lend me a 'wireless' man? I could take on the pilot's job. "

"Our man's knocked out, " said the skipper. 

"That's done it!" exclaimed the Sub. "There's a particularly toughbattery that I wanted to see knocked out. No. 5 was almost on it whenwe got it hot. "

Ross was thinking rapidly and deeply. He knew the Morse code well. Hehad dabbled in wireless telegraphy at school. Perhaps----

He felt that it was almost too impertinent to offer his services, yetthe matter was urgent. It was dangerous, too, most dangerous; but themidshipman had learnt to place duty before personal consideration. 

"Well?" asked Captain Syllenger as Trefusis stepped up and salutedsmartly. 

"I'll go if I can be of any assistance, sir, " said Ross. "I can Morseand use a buzzer, and I have a knowledge of wireless. "

"Carry on, then, " replied Captain Syllenger. 

"Good man!" exclaimed the Flight-Sub-lieutenant. "Can you stickheights?"

"I've done a lot of cliff climbing--I am a Cornishman, you know, " saidTrefusis. "I haven't had a chance of flying before. "

"You have now!" added the Flight-Sub. 

CHAPTER XXVI

Disabled in Mid-air

Ross climbed agilely into the observer's seat, and, at his flyingcompanion's suggestion, buckled a broad leather strap round his waist. At his right hand was the wireless transmitter, together with a pair ofprismatic glasses and map. The latter was held in a transparentcelluloid case, while the glasses were secured by a cord sufficientlylong to enable the observer to use them in any direction. Everythingwas attached to the sea-plane so that in the event of the machinehaving to "loop the loop" nothing would be lost. 

The Sub, who for the present was to act as pilot, took his place in theforward part of the body. Giving a few preliminary touches to themechanism, he announced that everything was in order. 

The self-starter was released and the motor fired, causing the twinpropellers to buzz smoothly and powerfully. 

Ross waved his hand to his chum as the sea-plane glided away from the_Capella_, and from that moment his whole attention was centred uponthe work on which he was engaged. 

For nearly a hundred yards the sea-plane "taxied", rising lightly overthe waves; then almost imperceptibly it glided upwards with an evenmotion. Ross could hardly believe he was flying until he saw the seaapparently receding from him. 

"All right?" asked the Sub through the telephone that formed the onlyaudible means of communication between pilot and observer. "Notfeeling giddy?"

"Not a bit, " replied Ross. Without experiencing the faintest sensationof vertigo, he found himself able to lean over the side of the chassisand look down at the scene two thousand feet beneath him. 

The sea-plane was rising in a direction diverging obliquely with thecoast. She was, in fact, almost over the line of empty transports thatlooked little bigger than a fleet of toy boats. Farther away could bediscerned the _Capella_ and her consorts, moving with apparent slownessupon a perfectly calm sea, for at that altitude the waves were mergedinto a flat surface. Small splashes of white--the spray thrown up byfalling shells--could be seen all around the patrol-vessels, which, inobedience to a signal, had now taken up a position rather nearer to themonitors. 

Presently the Flight-Sub, having gained the desired altitude, moved thesteering-plane ever so slightly. Quickly the machine answered herhelm, swinging round until she pointed towards the land. 

Three minutes later Ross found himself immediately above the Britishmonitors. The sea-plane was now pitching slightly in the disturbedair, for the concussion of the heavy weapons was distinctly felt evenat seven hundred yards above the bombarding ships. Although the roarof the concerted cannonade was deafening, Ross heard not a sound of it. To all intents, as far as he was concerned, the guns might have beenfired with silencers attached to their muzzles. The whirr of thesea-plane's motor and the rush of air past his ears out-voiced everyother sound. 

Five miles beyond the line of monitors, could be discerned the Belgiancoast, composed for the most part of undulating sand-dunes dotted withclusters of buildings. 

As the sea-plane approached the land Ross could, with the aid of hisbinoculars, distinguish other objects--wavy lines, dotted with ant-likefigures bunched together round something that looked like stumps of alead pencil. The lines were the German trenches, the "ants"grey-coated artillerymen, and the "stumps" the heavy howitzers. 

"That's our pigeon!" spoke the Flight-Sub through the telephone. "Thebattery a hundred yards to the north of that ruined church tower. Ourfellows haven't knocked it out yet. Wireless them; fifty yards over. "

Ross sent the desired information. The sea-plane, having flown overits objective, turned, describing an elongated figure eight. As sheswung round, Ross noticed a mushroom-like cloud of white smoke a shortdistance beneath, and to the left of the fuselage. Then another ahundred feet immediately in front. At each "mushroom" the sea-planecurtsied. Something zipped close to the lad's ear. A wire snapped, the severed portions circling themselves into erratic spirals. Afragment of fabric from one of the main planes flew past him, like ascrap of tissue-paper in the grip of a boisterous wind. 

Then Ross tumbled to it. Those silent mushrooms of smoke were shrapnelshells bursting unpleasantly close. For a moment, the young observerfelt himself seized by an almost irresistible impulse to take refugeunder the coaming surrounding his seat. He uttered an involuntaryexclamation of unwelcome surprise. 

"What's up?" asked a voice in his ear. It was the Flight-Sub, to whomthe telephone had transmitted Ross's exclamation. 

"Nothing, " replied the lad. 

"Thought so, " was the laconic reply. "Don't worry. "

Reasoning with himself, Ross came to the decision that the advice wasthoroughly sound. Worrying would not help him in the least; neitherwould cowering inside the frail body of the sea-plane. Twice within avery short space of time he had experienced a sensation of "funk". Twice he was surprised to find how quickly he recovered; for, at thenext shot from the monitor for which he was "spotting", he found thatthe sensation of "cold feet" had given place to one of exhilarationwhen he was able to record a "direct hit". 

By this time the initial operations were terminating. The German firehad almost ceased to be troublesome. Most of the big howitzers andlong-range guns had been knocked out. A few were still firing, butvery erratically. 

At a signal from the senior officer, the monitors drew out of range, and steaming at the maximum speed--a bare 11 knots--kept a courseparallel with the shore, accompanied by the patrol-vessels andtransports. 

Well above effective shrapnel range, the squadron of sea-planes headedfor Zeebrugge. A number of aviatiks, which were flying over the Germannew sea base, hurriedly turned tail. Previous experience had taughtthem that naval air-craft could hit hard, in addition to carrying outobservation work. 

There were, however, plenty of evidences that the Germans were rushingup thousands of troops in order to deal with the supposed landing inforce. Train after train made towards the town, crammed with soldiers. 

The sea-planes let the trains pass unhindered. It was not theirpurpose to stop Germans from pouring into Zeebrugge. Once the troopswere there, then would be the time to cut their lines of communication. 

Again the monitors opened fire. Their reception was hotter than it hadbeen in the neighbourhood of Ostend, for, in spite of frequent anddestructive molestation, the Germans had succeeded in throwing upnumerous heavily armed and cleverly concealed batteries. 

At almost extreme range the British ships maintained a rapid high-anglefire. In a few minutes fires had broken out in several places. Fifteen-hundred-pound shells dropped in the canal basin, blowing toatoms several submarines that were in the process of fitting out. Theharbour works were swept by the huge projectiles. The long curvedbreakwater suffered heavily. Huge gaps appeared in the solid masonry. Everything lying afloat in the enclosed water was either set on fire orsunk. In an hour the havoc wrought at Zeebrugge had wiped out the workof months. 

Ross had little time to notice the work of destruction. His particularbusiness was to observe the fire directed upon a large redoubt to thenorth-east of the town. The first shell from the monitor fell short, blowing an enormous crater in the grass-grown dunes. The second fellbeyond, completely demolishing a house. The third dropped fairly inthe centre of the redoubt, causing a terrific explosion that was notdue solely to the lyddite bursting-charge. The magazine had exploded. 

Skywards rushed an enormous cloud of black and yellow smoke. Caught bythe blast of the violently displaced air the sea-plane rocked, thenbegan dropping like a stone. 

For the moment Ross imagined that the end had come. He was no longerafraid. A sensation of intense curiosity as to what the machine andits occupants would look like seemed to obsess his mind. 

Then, with a jerk that reminded the midshipman of the sudden startingof a lift, the sea-plane "flattened out" and began to climb out of theenveloping cloud of smoke. 

The Flight-Sub turned his head and grinned broadly. His manner couldnot do otherwise than inspire confidence. Although not a pilot, he wasmaster of the frail machine. Side-slips and nose-dives troubled himbut little, provided he was flying at a safe altitude. 

"A jolly good wipe-out!" he exclaimed. "There won't be many Boschesleft within half a mile of that battery, I'm thinking. Now watch whenthe next shot lands: that will give you the objective. "

A sharp buzzing in the receiver attached to Ross's flying helmetannounced that the monitor was "calling up" her observer. Quickly thelad seized the pencil, and gave the signal that he was ready to takedown the message. 

The Morse signal, when translated into writing, was as follows:--

"Register Position 47. "

"Good!" exclaimed the Plight-Sub when Ross had telephoned him themessage. He consulted his map, which was similar to the one at theobserver's disposal "Position 47: that's a railway junction. "

In the course of their work of fortifying Zeebrugge, the Huns hadconstructed a double-track railway, passing within a few yards of theDutch frontier for several miles before heading straight for the newsubmarine base. Two miles from Zeebrugge the line joined the existingrailway, the junction being recorded on British airmen's maps asPosition 47. 

The time was now ripe for the monitor which had successfully demolishedthe redoubt to attempt a similar exploit, namely, to destroy thejunction. 

The sea-plane's appearance was the signal for a furious fire from thenumerous anti-aircraft guns mounted in the vicinity of the station. 

At six thousand feet the risk of being hit was small, while the heightdid not prevent the observer making a fairly accurate register of thehits. 

It was a very long range, but the monitor's 14-inch guns did excellentwork. Seven shells sufficed to reduce the station to a heap of ruinsand blow whole sections of the line to atoms. 

Again came a wireless order:

"Sea-plane to proceed to Zwilhuit. Attempt destruction of bridgeacross canal. "

Once more the Flight-Sub smiled. This was work that suited himimmensely. For the nonce "spotting" was finished with. The sea-planehad to drop her cargo of bombs upon an important strategic position. 

"All right!" exclaimed the Flying officer. "Keep a cool head. When Igive the word, press that pedal under your right foot. Bend down andyou'll find a safety pin just above the floor. Remove it, but be jollycareful not to touch the pedal until I give the word. "

Underneath the fuselage were six bombs hanging from an inclined steelrod. These were released by means of a rachet operated by the pedal towhich the Flight-Sub had alluded. To prevent a premature release thepedal was "locked" by a safety device. When this was removed, eachdepression of the pedal would result in the liberation of a potentmissile of destruction. 

The sea-plane was not alone on her errand. In her wake flew two more, for the actual bombardment had now ceased, and the air-craft were atliberty to engage upon a raid several miles inland. 

The Huns had not constructed their strategic railway close to the Dutchfrontier without a cunning reason. Extreme care had to be exercised byBritish airmen, since it was an easy matter for a bomb to drop acrossthe border. Nothing would please the Germans better, for at once therewould be a case of violation of Dutch territory. On the other hand, the Huns had no scruple in mounting a battery of anti-aircraft guns, training them in such a manner that the earthward flight of spentshrapnel would assuredly fall upon the Dutch village of Venterloos, which was separated from Zwilhuit by a distance of less than fourhundred yards. 

In twenty minutes the sea-plane's objective came in sight: a broad lineof railway crossing a canal by means of a steel bridge. It was evidentthat the Germans meant this base to be a permanent one, for the bridgewas of massive construction, strong enough to bear the transport of theheavy 42-centimetre guns, and yet sufficiently high above the waterwayto admit the passage of large lighters with towering deck-cargoes. 

"Stand by!" cautioned the Flight-Sub. "Keep cool. Do as well as youhave already done, and everything will go like greased lightning. "

Volplaning at an acute angle, the sea-plane swooped down upon herquarry. Shrapnel shells burst over, in front, behind, and underneathher. It seemed impossible that such a frail object could escapedestruction. 

At five hundred feet the Flight-Sub checked her downward course. 

"Now!" he ordered. "And again!"

Two puffs of white smoke marked the points of explosion of the powerfulbombs. One had fallen fifty yards short of the bridge; the other hadburst almost at the junction of the railway lines. 

Round spun the sea-plane. As she turned Ross could discern the secondof the aerial raiders gliding down, while the third was still at agreat altitude. Before the one in which Ross was flying could againsoar over its target the second sea-plane had dropped three of hermissiles. All fell close to the bridge. The work of demolition wasaccomplished, for when the smoke and dust cleared away the substantialfabric had been precipitated, a mass of twisted steel, into the canal. 

[Illustration: "THE WORK OF DEMOLITION WAS ACCOMPLISHED"]

"Two more on the station and then we've finished, " exclaimed theFlight-Sub. "Ready?"

"Ay, ay!" replied Ross. 

He turned his head to watch the progress of the other sea-planes. Onewas still maintaining a terrific altitude, and showed no signs ofmaking a volplane. 

The other was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps it was as well that themidshipman had not noticed what had befallen her, for a few secondspreviously a shrapnel shell had burst close underneath the chassis. The explosion had communicated itself to the remaining bombs, with theresult that utter annihilation had overtaken the plucky British airmenin the moment of their triumph. 

Ross's companion had witnessed the catastrophe. More, his trained eyehad discerned half a dozen small specks in the western sky. Quickly hebrought his binoculars to bear upon them. No mistake now; the specksrevealed themselves as German aviatiks intent upon cutting off theretreat of the two remaining British air-craft. 

Not until Ross had dropped the remaining bombs did his companion speak. 

"We've a bit of a shooting match on, " he announced. "Get that rifleready. It's under the coaming on your right hand. Sight at threehundred yards, and let rip when I give the word. "

Ross took up the weapon almost as a matter of course. After theexcitement of bomb-dropping and being shelled by shrapnel, the approachof a fleet of Zeppelins would hardly disturb his equanimity. 

Already the third sea-plane, having gained a favourable altitude, wasmaking straight for her numerous opponents. 

The Flight-Sub now began to speed his machine up, climbing in shortspirals, so as to gain what was equivalent to the "weather-gauge" inthe sea battles of Nelson's days. 

Ross unslipped the rifle. Mechanically he set the back-sight, andjerked open the bolt-action to assure himself that the magazine wascharged. As he did so he became aware that the cartridges were bentand buckled. A piece of shrapnel, passing through the side of thefuselage, had lodged in the magazine of the rifle. In addition, although it was possible to withdraw the bolt, the striking-pin hadjammed. As a weapon the rifle was useless. By stopping the shrapnelbullet the rifle had saved Ross from a serious and perhaps mortal wound. 

The midshipman was on the point of reporting the disablement of theweapon, when the motor gave vent to a peculiar cough and abruptlystopped. Unknown to the pilot the petrol-tank had been pierced almostat its lowest point. The remaining petrol had been used up during thespiraling process. The sea-plane was now at an altitude of threethousand feet; propulsion, except under the force of gravity, was nolonger possible. 

The Flight-Sub was quick to act. Before the hitherto climbingair-craft began diving tail downwards, he regulated the elevatingplanes, and a long volplane ensued. The sea-plane was bound to come toearth, but it was not on hostile soil that the airman hoped to alight. His goal was the ground beyond the seemingly endless line of barbedwire that marked the frontier between Belgium and Holland. 

The anti-aircraft guns had now opened fire, blazing furiously away atthe rapidly descending sea-plane. The rapidity of her descent savedher, for, before the time-fuses could be altered to suit theever-varying range, the air-craft was well below the bursting-point ofthe missiles. Nothing but a direct hit--a most difficult matter--couldharm her now. 

At a thousand feet she passed the border-line. Still the Archibaldsbarked. Ross could see the Dutch frontier guards bolting for shelteras the hall of bullets fell on neutral ground. Not until the sea-planewas well over the boundary did the guns reluctantly cease fire. 

The earth appeared to leap up and meet the descending machine. Itlooked as if a terrific smash were inevitable. A sea-plane alightingupon solid ground has a thousand chances against her, for, beingunprovided with landing wheels, she is not adapted to withstandsuccessfully the impact with the earth. 

Cool and collected, the Flight-Sub "flattened her out" to a nicety. Atforty miles an hour the floats struck the ground. For twenty yards thesea-plane skidded, then with a rending crash the floats and a networkof struts and tension-wires gave way under the abnormal strain. Thenext instant Ross found himself sprawling on the sandy soil, the suddenjerk tearing his securing-belt from its fastenings. 

He sat up. A multitude of dazzling lights seemed to flash before hiseyes. He was dimly aware of a tangle of wreckage, out of which apractically undamaged plane rose at an oblique angle, lumbering theground quite twenty yards from where he found himself. Men werehastening towards the wrecked sea-plane from all directions, but, thankHeaven, they did not wear the uniform of the Hun. 

With his head still whirling, Ross was supported by two Dutch soldiers, while a third poured a quantity of raw spirits down his throat. Bloodwas streaming from a gash on his forehead, and his knees, grazed anddiscoloured, were visible through rents in his trousers. 

Of what happened during the next quarter of an hour, the midshipman hadbut a very hazy idea. The men had laid him on the ground, propping himagainst a large stone. He felt horribly sick. The pain across hischest, caused by the strain upon the leather belt, was acute--far worsethan the wound on his forehead which the kindly soldiers were bathingwith handkerchiefs dipped in water. 

The men were talking excitedly. He could not understand what they weresaying. He felt inclined to tell them to shut up. They irritated himbeyond measure; if only they would go away and leave him in peace hewould be deeply grateful. 

Suddenly it dawned upon him that he had been in an awful smash. Thewrecked sea-plane had not hitherto led the train of his thoughts to thesubject of the accident. Now he realized his position. 

"Where's my companion?" he asked, "Is he knocked out?"

"Do not yourself fret, " said a voice that sounded far away. "He ishurt, but badly not at all. We him have carried away. I am a doctor. You quiet must be, and zen recovery rapide will be. "

The doctor--a Dutch army surgeon--ran his hands lightly over the lad'slimbs. 

"Goot!" he ejaculated. "Nodings broken is. "

He gave directions to the men in attendance. A stretcher was laid onthe ground beside the lad. Two men lifted him gently upon it. Even asthey did so, Ross gave a low groan and passed into merciful oblivion. 

CHAPTER XXVII

Not on Parole

"Ver' goot. I understan' you no give parole?"

"No, sir, " replied the Flight-Sub firmly. 

"An' you, mynheer?"

"I am in the same boat, sir, " replied Ross. 

The camp-commandant smiled--a hearty smile, bordering on a laugh. 

"Goot, I understan' also, " he reiterated. Then, shaking a podgy littlefinger, he added: "Same boat, ah? English idiomatic expression? Ver'well, it is so; but if you make escape, do not let me you catch. Zatis all. "

A week had elapsed since the involuntary descent of the sea-plane. Both officers were making rapid progress towards recovery, for, inspite of the violence of the impact, neither of them had receivedanything worse than contusions and bruises. 

After three days in hospital at Utrecht, the interned aviators weretransferred to a small concentration camp at the village of Koedijk, ashort distance from Alkmaar. A few miles to the westward, and beyondan expanse of sand dunes, was the North Sea. The temptation to refuseto give their parole was not to be wondered at, with the call of thesea so near at hand. It was, indeed, rather remarkable that the twoofficers had not been sent to the large internment camp at Groningen, where so many of the ill-fated Naval Brigade languished, if not incaptivity, in a state of enforced and tedious detention. 

"We'll have to be doubly careful now, " remarked the Flight-Sub. "Themere fact that we have declined to give our parole will put thecommandant on his guard. Our best plan will be to mark time for a bit. "

"Marking time is always an unsatisfactory business, " protested theenergetic Ross. "Nothing rusts a fellow like inaction. It wouldn't bemuch of a task to tunnel our way out. "

The Flight-Sub shook his head. 

"Tunnelling's not much good in this water-logged country, " he declared. "We are not water-rats. Patience, my festive: where there's a willthere's a way. "

Their quarters consisted of a long, two-storied building. The onlyother occupants beside the guards, were three British Naval officersrescued from a mined trawler that had managed to reach Dutch watersbefore foundering. Two of them had broken legs; the third was downwith double pneumonia, the legacy of many a cold, stormy night in theNorth Sea. 

Surrounding the house was a high brick wall, on which had been recentlyplaced a triple row of barbed wire. At the entrance, an archway aboutten feet in height, stood a wooden sentry-box, where a soldier withrifle and fixed bayonet kept guard in the leisurely manner of thestolid Dutch menfolk. One could imagine him, a picturesque figure inbaggy trousers and coat of fantastic cut, smoking his pipe on the quayat Volendam. The blue uniform did not form a fitting mantle for hiscorpulent form. 

The sentry was one of a type. The rest of the guards--middle-aged mencalled up on mobilization--were much of the same build and demeanour. Their innate love of gossiping tempted them to be on most friendlyterms with the interned officers. One and all were violentlypro-British. They had reason to dread the German menace, for they werelevel-headed enough to realize that, with the Central Powerstriumphant, the independence of Holland would be a thing of the past. 

Adjoining the grounds were the quarters occupied by interned seamen, tothe number of about sixty. They were strictly guarded; a formidabledouble fence of barbed wire, between which armed sentries patrolled, enclosed the premises. For discipline, the men were under the ordersof their own petty officers. 

"Jolly good luck to you!" exclaimed one of the wounded officers, towhom the two new-comers confided their intention of escaping. "If wethree weren't crocked we should have been across the ditch by thistime. "

He pointed seawards as he spoke. From the upper windows of thebuilding the sunlit sea could be seen. Beyond the "ditch", as hetermed it, was England and freedom. 

"It's no use trying to break out, " he continued. "German spies asthick as blackberries along the coast. The most benevolent-lookingmynheer might, as likely as not, be a kultured Hun. You have to besmuggled out. Try your blandishments on old Katje. "

"Old who?" asked the Flight-Sub. 

"Katje, the old vrouw who calls for the washing. She comes everyTuesday and Friday with a cart drawn by dogs, and a basket big enoughto stow the pair of you. You'll want plenty of palm oil. There arethe sentries to be squared, and the fellow who provides you with a suitof 'mufti'. Wilson, our Lieutenant-Commander, got clear about a monthago. He made his way to Ymuiden. "

"Wasn't there a row about it?" asked Ross. 

"Naturally, " replied the wounded officer. "We had a pretty strenuoustime after it--certain privileges withdrawn and all that sort of thing. However, when we heard that Wilson had succeeded in making his way toEngland we didn't mind that, and things have now recovered their normalappearance. "

On the following Tuesday, Ross and his companion anxiously awaited thearrival of Vrouw Katje. At length the old lady--she was nearlyeighty--drove up in style, shouting shrilly to her dogs from her perchon top of an enormous wicker hamper. 

"More washing for you, Katje, " announced one of the crippled officers. "Two more of my countrymen. They will be very pleased to see you. "

Without further ado, Katje ascended the stairs and hammered violentlyupon the door of the sitting-room. 

Her knowledge of English was good, for earlier in life she was the wifeof the skipper of a bolter that made regular voyages to Hole Haven atthe mouth of the Thames, where a large eel trade was in the hands ofthe Dutch fishermen. 

"Very well; but I must ask permission of the Commandant, " repliedKatje, in perfect good faith, when the Flight-Sub had broached thesubject of being conveyed from the internment camp. 

"No, no, " protested the young officer in alarm; "that won't do. "

"Why not?" persisted the washerwoman. "Mynheer the Commandant is verykind. "

"Undoubtedly, " replied the Flight-Sub. "But we would much rather thatyou wait until we are away from the place before you ask him. See, here are five English sovereigns. They are yours once you get usclear. "

The vrouw shook her head. 

"I do not care to, " she replied firmly; then without a pause shecontinued: "My son-in-law, Jan van Beverwijk, will. I am sure he will. Next Friday he will come instead of me. He is mate of a steamship thattakes the bulbs from Holland to England. He returns to-morrow, andsails on Saturday from Ymuiden. "

"That sounds excellent, " commented the Flight-Sub. 

"It is excellent, " agreed Katje. "It will cost you each twenty Englishsovereigns. "

"But we haven't ten between us. "

The vrouw smiled till her weather-beaten face was one mass of deepwrinkles. 

"You English have a proverb about a road, " she remarked. 

"'It's a long lane that has no turning?'" quoted the officer; but Katjeshook her head. 

"'Where there's a will there's a way', " suggested Ross. 

"Ah! That is it. I knew it was something about a road or a lane. Way, you call it. Very well; by next Friday you will find a way. "

"Artful old baggage!" exclaimed the Flight-Sub when Katje had taken herdeparture. "She's mighty keen on the rhino. We'll have to have a whipround, Trefusis, and give a note of hand. "

Their brothers in adversity willingly responded to the call, and beforethe eventful Friday a sum in English and Dutch coinage, equivalent toforty pounds, was ready to be handed to Jan van Beverwijk. 

"I wouldn't pay cash on the nail if I were you, " suggested the crippledofficer who had been so useful in advising them before. "Half down, and the rest when you land in England. Jan might object, but he'llgive in. No Dutchman of his standing would shut his eyes to twenty inhard cash. "

At eight o'clock on Friday morning Katje's dog-team romped up; but, instead of the old vrouw, a lean, leather-faced man with a long coatreaching to his heels and a flat-topped peak cap strode beside the cart. 

At the gate he stopped, and spoke at considerable length with thesentry. There was hardly any expression on the faces of the two men asthey talked. Whether the soldier fell in with the suggestion, Ross, who was anxiously watching from the window, could not decide. 

Presently Jan stooped to fasten the strap of one of his _klompen_, orwooden shoes; then shouting to the dogs he came towards the house. Before he had gone very far, the sentry bent and picked up somethingthat was lying on the spot where Jan had been attending to his footgear. 

"Palm oil!" remarked the Flight-Sub laconically. 

"Heavy wash to-day, " was Jan's greeting as he deposited his heavybasket in the corridor. "Spot cash, down on the nail. "

"Your knowledge of English is remarkable, " said the Flight-Sub affably. 

"It has to be, " rejoined the Dutchman stolidly. 

"We have only twenty pounds, " declared the Sub. "That we will give youas soon as we are on board and in English waters. The balance Mr. Brown will give you on your return, on receipt of a note from us to theeffect that we are safely home. "

"It cannot be done, " said Jan. 

"Then the deal's off, " remarked the Flight-Sub coolly; but heostentatiously poured the coins from his right hand into his leftbefore returning them to his pocket. 

The Dutchman capitulated. 

"Very good, " he said. "I can trust an English Naval officer, althoughmany a time have I been done in London. Get in, one of you. "

"But the other?" enquired the Sub. 

"I am strong, but I am not a Hercules, " replied the Dutchman with ashrug of his shoulders. "One I can carry to the cart. To-day is aheavy wash, so I must return for a second load. You twig?"

"In you get, Trefusis, " ordered his companion, in a tone that wouldbrook no refusal. 

By dint of hunching his shoulders and bending his knees, Ross managedto get into the basket. The lid was shut, and Jan, assisted by theSub, lifted the heavy load on to his shoulders. 

Jolting over the cobble-stones, the cart proceeded at a rapid pace fornearly a quarter of an hour. Then Jan called to the dogs to stop. Thelid was thrown back and Ross told to get out. 

He found himself outside a small cottage by the side of a canal. Katjewas on her knees washing a bundle of clothes; the operation assisted, with disastrous results to the interned officers' effects, by means oftwo large stones with which she pounded the saturated garments. Without even turning her head to watch the midshipman's exit from thebasket, she proceeded vigorously with her task. 

Jan led him into the cottage and pointed to a heap of clothes. 

"Put these on you, " he said. "I will now go for your friend. "

Before the Flight-Sub rejoined him, Ross was rigged out as a Dutchyouth, in voluminous trousers, long coat, stock, tall cylindrical hat, green stockings, and wooden shoes. His companion had to look twicebefore he recognized him. 

"Now you come with me to Mynheer Guit, " said Jan. "He is a bulbmerchant, and lives just outside Ymuiden. You will then go on board abarge that brings the boxes of bulbs from Mynheer Guit's warehouse tothe ship. I will be with you. The men in the barge will say nothing. Before to-night you will be safe on board the _Hoorn_. "

Jan was as good as his word. That night the fugitives sleptcomfortably in the cabin of the mate of the steamship _Hoorn_; and attide-time, early on Saturday morning while it was still dark, thevessel glided between the breakwater of Ymuiden, and shaped a coursefor the mouth of the Thames. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

Almost Recaptured

"What's that light, Jan?" asked the Flight-Sub. 

The _Hoorn_ was now well beyond the three-mile limit. Ross and hisfellow-passenger were standing aft, sheltering from the keensouth-westerly wind. The mate of the vessel was with them, the skipperbeing on the bridge. 

"Those lights?" corrected Jan. "They have been visible all the time. They are the two white leading-lights to Ymuiden harbour. "

"No, I don't mean those, " said the Flight-Sub. "Away to the south'ard, quite a mile from the harbour. See, it's showing again. "

From the dunes a white light blinked thrice and then disappeared. 

"I do not know, " answered Jan gravely. He thought for a moment andthen said: "Half a mo'. I will speak to the skipper. "

"Hanged if I like it, " muttered the Flight-Sub. "I say, Trefusis, thatlight blinking away looks very fishy. It would mean a fifty-pound finein England; but here, apparently, it is not objected to. "

The skipper and the mate were talking rapidly. Both men were leaningover the after side of the bridge-rails, with their eyes fixed upon thedark shore from which the mysterious light flickered at regularintervals. 

"Light on the port bow, " reported the helmsman. Both of the _Hoorn's_officers turned just in time to catch sight of a steady white lightbefore it disappeared. Whatever its meaning, it was remarkable thatfrom that moment the shore light ceased to blink. 

"Put out our navigation lamps, Jan, " said the skipper. "Someone hasbetrayed your English friends. Nevertheless I will do all in my powerto aid them. We'll steer south-west for an hour. Perhaps we mayoutwit yon craft, whatever she may be, before dawn. "

Ross and his companion were quick to note the alteration of helm. Theyknew, too, that the removal of the steaming-lights was for the purposeof baffling what must be, to a dead certainty, a German craft--asubmarine, or perhaps a torpedo-boat, since the latter frequentlyventured out of Borkum and crept stealthily towards the Schelde, keeping close to the Dutch territorial waters in order to avoid beingsnapped by the vigilant British destroyer flotilla. 

Slowly the wintry day dawned. Anxiously the British officers scannedthe horizon. The low-lying Dutch coast was now invisible. All aroundwas a waste of grey, tumbling waves, unbroken by a sail of anydescription. 

The _Hoorn_ was ploughing her way at a modest ten knots. Short, beamy, and deep-draughted, she was pitching heavily, sending a frothy bow wavefar to leeward each time she dipped her nose into the steep seas. 

"I'd give a fiver for the sight of a good old White Ensign at thepresent moment, " remarked the Flight-Sub anxiously. "Good heavens, what's that?"

Ten seconds later he laughed mirthlessly. 

"Nerves going to blazes, " he muttered. "A bit of wreckage gave me thejumps. By Jove, don't we look a pair of comical objects?"

They had discarded their grotesque head-dress. Ross had a woollenmuffler wrapped round his head, while his companion had been given theloan of a red stocking-cap, but they still retained the weird garb inwhich they had made their journey down the ship canal. 

Suddenly Ross gripped his companion's arm and pointed with his righthand to a spar-like object projecting a few feet, close to the waves, at less than a cable's length on the port quarter. 

"A periscope!" ejaculated the Flight-Sub. 

"Let's hope it's one of our own submarines, " said Ross. 

"We'll soon find out, " added his companion. "It's forging ahead. Whatever it is, they've got us under observation. "

Jan, who was now on the bridge, had his attention called to thedisconcerting fact. He beckoned to his two passengers. 

"You had better go below and stow yourselves away, " he suggested. "Wewill be boarded before long. "

"Not I, " replied the Flight-Sub. "They've marked us already. If theydo take us they won't have to dig us out of a coal-bunker. "

The submarine was emerging. At a pace that more than held its own withthe _Hoorn_, she shook herself clear of the water, although green seaswere breaking across the flat deck as far aft as the conning-tower. 

Then muffled forms clambered through the hatchway; a young, yellow-bearded officer appeared on the navigation platform and hailedthe _Hoorn_ in Dutch to heave to instantly. 

Even then the tough old Dutch skipper was not going to give in withouta protest. 

"For what reason?" he shouted back. "This is a Netherlands ship. "

"That I do not doubt, " rejoined the officer of the submarine. "But youhave two Englishmen on board who have broken their parole----"

"You lie!" interrupted the skipper vehemently. 

"Not a word more!" exclaimed the German fiercely. "Heave to, or wesink you!"

Reluctantly the "old man" gave the order to stop the engines. Jan, sliding down the bridge ladder, communicated to the British officersthe text of the conversation. 

"Some rascal of a German spy has betrayed you, " he added. "If I couldlay my hands upon him----"

There was a look on the Dutchman's face which showed that his anger wasgenuine. 

"All right, Jan, " said the Flight-Sub. "It's the fortune of war. "

 * * * * *

"Deucedly rotten morning, " remarked Sub-lieutenant Fox as he greetedthe officer of the watch, whom he was about to relieve. 

Eccles, the Lieutenant, who had been on the _Capella's_ bridge for fourlong and dreary hours, merely nodded sleepily. He was thinking, withfeelings of satisfaction, of the hot coffee and fragrant bacon and eggsawaiting him below. Three minutes had to elapse before eight bells. Wearily he rubbed his salt-rimmed eyelids with a heavily gloved hand. 

"_Taurus_ wirelessed twenty minutes ago, " he reported, as the twoofficers entered the chart-room. "She was then at the extreme limit ofher northerly course. You ought to sight her very shortly. Here's ourcourse"--he indicated the pencilled line on the chart. "Nothing toreport: there never is when I'm officer of the watch. It's thisinfernal monotony that plays havoc with a fellow's nerves. "

Noel Fox nodded sympathetically. Although the _Capella_ had been onlysix days on her new station--keeping a watch on the Dutch coast betweenthe Texel and the North Hinder Lightship--he, too, was mightily "fedup" with the task of "treading on the tail of Germany's coat". 

Not so much as the periscope of a hostile submarine had been sighted. The German torpedo-boats that occasionally sneaked southwards fromBorkum were taking an enforced holiday. Perhaps it was in sympathywith the "High Seas Fleet" skulking in the Kiel Canal. In any case, the six motor craft of the _Capella_ class had a full share of wintryconditions in the North Sea without any compensating adventures tomitigate the monotony. 

As Eccles descended from the bridge, a great-coated muffled-up figure, followed by a large dog, swung himself up the ladder. 

"Morning, Haye, " was Noel Fox's salutation, as he stooped to pat Shrap, the chartered libertine of the _Capella_. "Dash it all, it is cold!Makes a fellow wish he were a sheep-dog. Here, Shrap, off you go andget your whiskers trimmed. I can see Tomkins waiting for you. "

The dog needed no second order. Every morning just after eight bellsShrap would be taken over by the watch below. Every man took a delightin combing the animal's long hair, until Shrap's coat was the pride ofthe _Capella's_ crew and the envy of the rest of the flotilla, whosemascots never aspired to be more than a tame rat, parrot, or canary. 

"Sail on the port bow, sir, " bawled the look-out. 

The Sub and the midshipman promptly levelled their telescopes. A smallcargo-steamer was pitching and rolling as she forged slowly ahead on awesterly course. Although she was fairly discernible against the palegrey of the eastern sky, it could be taken for granted that from theDutchman's bridge the neutral-grey-painted _Capella_ would bepractically invisible. 

"She's slowing down, " declared Vernon. 

"What on earth for?" enquired the Sub. "She couldn't possibly havespotted us. Starboard your helm, quartermaster. Good! Keep her atthat. We'll get her to make her number, if nothing else. "

Again Noel Fox levelled his telescope. Then he thrust it into a rackon the side of the chart-room, and bellowed:

"Turn up, both watches. Action stations. Submarine ahead. "

His quick glance had discerned the after part of a large unterseebootas she ranged alongside the Dutchman, whose high sides screened most ofthe submarine from the _Capella_, and conversely prevented the Germansclustered amidships from noticing the approach of the swift Britishpatrol-vessel. 

For the next few minutes, all was bustle and orderly confusion on boardthe _Capella_. Taking three steps at a time, Captain Syllenger gainedthe bridge, closely followed by Eccles, to whom the sudden interruptionof a hearty breakfast came as a welcome call. 

At a terrific pace the sleuth-hound of the sea tore towards the_Hoorn_, for such she was. Rounding under her squat counter, andreversing engines, the _Capella_ brought up within fifty yards of thesubmarine before the astonished Germans could realize their precariousplight. 

"Surrender, or I sink you!" roared Captain Syllenger. 

The grim muzzles of the _Capella's_ 4. 7's, trained at a point-blankrange, were a conclusive argument. Without waiting for orders, themajority of the unterseeboot's crew held up their arms. For a briefinstant did her Kapitan hesitate. 

"Me surrender, " he replied. 

"Very good; I accept your surrender, " replied the _Capella's_ skipper. "But understand, any attempt to open the sea-cocks will mean that noquarter will be given. Order all hands below, and leave the hatchwaysopen. You will oblige me by proceeding on board His Majesty's ship_Capella_. "

By this time the _Hoorn_ was forging ahead, since she was in danger ofdrifting down upon the captured submarine. In the excitement of thecapture, no one on board noticed two grotesquely garbed men on the_Hoorn_ whose antics resembled those of a pair of demented creatures;nor was the presence of a couple of dejected German leutnants and fiveseamen, stranded on board the Dutchman, observed, as the Hunsfrantically besought the obdurate skipper of the _Hoorn_ to steam ashard as he could towards the Dutch coast. 

It was Vernon Haye's duty to take the cutter and board the prize. Itwas a hazardous piece of work, for the sea was now fairly high, andbreaking under the effect of tide against wind; but, with the exceptionof a broken top-strake, the boat managed to lie sufficiently closealongside the submarine to enable the midshipman and five seamen toboard. 

Already the German crew were below. Hatches were lowered and secured, with the exception of the one in the after side of the conning-tower. This could be left open without fear of the submarine being swamped, while, to prevent the captured crew closing it and making an attempt todive, the steel cover was removed from its hinges and secured on deck. The Black Cross flag was hauled down and rehoisted under the WhiteEnsign, and preparations were made to take the prize in tow. 

It was some time before a grass rope, to which a stout wire hawser wasbent, could be veered from the _Capella's_ quarter and taken on boardthe submarine, but eventually the hawser was made fast. 

"Now, sir, " said Vernon, addressing the German Kapitan. "Will youplease step into that boat? Where are the other officers?"

"In that ship, " replied the Hun sullenly, as he pointed towards the_Hoorn_. "They will not welcome you, but there are others who will. "

Not knowing what the German meant, Vernon indicated that he should geton board the cutter. 

"There are two German officers on board that vessel, air, " reported themidshipman, as the boat came alongside the _Capella_. "Am I to bringthem off?"

Captain Syllenger hesitated before replying. It was a knotty problem. To remove by force the subjects of a hostile nation from a neutral shipwas contrary to international law. However much the Germans violatedthe "right of search", it was not Great Britain's policy to engage uponreprisals. Holland, although a third-rate Power, had to be treatedwith due courtesy. 

"It's all the same in the long run, " replied Captain Syllenger. "Boardthat vessel, Mr. Haye, and see what those fellows are doing there. Ifthe Dutch skipper objects to their presence on his hooker, then bundlethem into the boat. If, on the other hand, he protests against theirremoval, let them remain. They will be collared as soon as the shipenters our three-mile limit. "

The _Hoorn_ had once more come to a dead stop, at two cables' lengthfrom the British patrol-vessel. 

As the _Capella's_ cutter came alongside, Vernon agilely scrambled upthe "monkey ladder" and gained the deck. 

"Hulloa, old man!" exclaimed a well-known voice. 

Vernon looked at the speaker. He knew the voice, but for a moment hefailed to recognize in the oddly garbed youth his chum Ross Trefusis. Then he grinned broadly. 

"My word!" he exclaimed. "You do cut a pretty figure. "

Had they been of any nationality but British, the lads would havefallen on each other's necks and perhaps kissed each other. Instead, they stood a yard apart and laughed--but their mutual joy was none theless genuine. 

"So you've come to fetch the German Leutnant and his boat's crew, " saidRoss, after Haye had been introduced to the Flight-Sub. "He'ssomewhere below. You'll recognize him right enough. "

"Eh?" asked Vernon incredulously. 

"Rather!" declared Ross emphatically. "You'd never guess. It's ourold pal, Hermann Rix, late of U75. No wonder he's tearing his hair, for he must have broken his parole. He knew me directly he came overthe side, and didn't forget to rub it in. You should have seen hisface when, in the midst of his beastly gibes, the old _Capella_ camesnorting up. "

With Jan acting as interpreter, Vernon put his case before the Dutchskipper, who seemed only too delighted at the way events had turned. His satisfaction at getting rid of his Hunnish visitors was evident, inspite of the stolidity of his manners. 

"I want no pirates on board the _Hoorn_, " he said. "Take them andwelcome!"

While the Flight-Sub and Ross were "squaring up" with the good-heartedJan, Vernon rounded up Ober-leutnant Rix and his boat's crew. Findingthat their protests to the Dutch skipper were of no avail, theysullenly gave in. 

"Look here, " said Ross, taking his chum aside. "I don't want to crowover that fellow. It isn't cricket. You might take him to the_Capella_ and come back for us. You'll have a pretty good load as itis. "

"Two British officers, escaped from an internment camp, on board the_Hoorn_, sir, " reported Vernon, as he delivered his cargo of Germanprisoners on board the _Capella_. "They would like to be taken off. "

"Carry on, then, " replied Captain Syllenger. 

As the cutter returned from her second trip to the _Hoorn_, the_Capella's_ crew awaited with undisguised curiosity the arrival of themen who had contrived to escape from irksome detention in a neutralcountry. 

Presently Shrap, who was sitting up on the quarterdeck, gave a bark ofdelight. 

"Good old Shrap!" said Ross. "He knew me in spite of my rig-out. "

"Blow me, if it ain't Mr. Trefusis!" exclaimed one of the men. 

The next instant the first of three hearty cheers burst from thethroats of the crew, with whom Ross was a great favourite. TheDutchmen, too, joined in, to the accompaniment of a prolonged blastupon the _Hoorn's_ siren as she resumed her interrupted voyage. 

"It's like being home again, " declared Ross, after Captain Syllengerand the other officers had congratulated him. "But, I say, can anyonelend me a decent suit of togs?"

CHAPTER XXIX

Bound for the Baltic

A fortnight had elapsed since the day on which H. M. S. _Capella_ towedthe captured unterseeboot into Harwich harbour. Since then she hadbeen attached to a base on the East coast of Scotland, her sphere ofusefulness in the English Channel being a thing of the past. 

The German blockade had fizzled out like a damp squib. Absolutelyafraid to risk the remaining boats in operations that would certainlyend in their being unceremoniously conveyed to Davy Jones's locker, theGerman Admiralty had dispatched them to the Mediterranean, where, underthe Austrian flag, they attempted, at first with a certain degree ofsuccess, to terrorize merchantmen by their "frightfulness". 

So the _Capella_ had been ordered to Cromarty Firth, pending thecompletion of arrangements for sending a fleet of swift destroyers andpatrol-boats to operate in conjunction with the British submarines inthe Baltic. 

Almost the first duty Ross had to undertake upon arrival was to drawmoney for the ship's company from the Paymaster's office at Invergordon. 

Accompanied by six seamen, wearing their side-arms and carrying threecanvas bags, the midshipman landed, and proceeded to the office. Leaving the escort "standing easy", Ross entered the building and foundhimself confronted by a door on which was painted the words, "Accountant Officer". Underneath was a piece of cardboard on which waswritten: "Don't knock--walk in". 

The midshipman accepted the invitation and entered. It was a largeroom. Against one wall were three knee-hole desks, at which wereseated naval "writers"--petty officers detached for clerical work. Twomore were bending over a large tray, studiously engaged in "putting themoney up", or placing wages in the compartments of the tray in order tofacilitate the forthcoming payment to the civilian workers attached tothe establishment. At a large desk was an officer, with his headalmost touching a litter of papers. His back was turned, but Rosscould see by the gold-and-white band that he was an Assistant Paymaster. 

Hearing footsteps behind him, the A. P. Broke into a torrent of abuse:

"Of all the scatter-brained idiots that act the giddy goat, thisstrafed lunatic takes the proverbial ship's biscuit!" he exclaimed. "Just look here, Carruthers; did you ever see such a piece of arranttomfoolery----"

He turned his head, and saw it was not Carruthers. 

"Sorry, " he said apologetically. "Thought it was someone else. Youmust have imagined that I was off my head. It's a wonder I'm not. Look at this: here am I up to my eyes in work, and I get this sort ofthing fired at me. "

Ross looked at the tendered document. It was headed: "Queries in theStore Ledger", and the gem to which the harassed A. P. Had referred wasas follows:--

"4 oz. Tin-tacks. Please say if these are synonymous with 'tackstinned'. "

The midshipman laughed. The A. P. Glared. 

"Some rotten idiot drawing five hundred a year evidently doesn'trealize it's war-time, " he growled. "Now, what can I do for you?"

At length the midshipman received the necessary coin. He was about toleave the officer when he found himself face to face with John Barry, now a Lieutenant-Commander, R. N. R. 

"Bless my soul, Trefusis!" exclaimed Barry cordially. "I am glad tosee you. I heard the new _Capella_ was ordered round. How's everyone?Thanks, I'm top-hole. In a deuce of a hurry! Look here, come on boardand see me to-night. The _Hunbilker_ is lying off Cromarty. Can youmanage it?"

"I think so, " replied Ross. 

"Very good; bring Haye with you. I'll send a boat at seven bells. "

Captain Syllenger readily gave the midshipmen permission. 

"It looks as if it might blow a bit before very long, " he added. "Ifso, remain on board until morning. It's no joke making a five-miletrip in a steamboat on a pitch-dark night with a sea running. "

The lads were delighted at the prospect of the visit. They were bothawfully keen on John Barry; besides, they were rather anxious to seewhat sort of command he had. The ship's name was enough to excitetheir curiosity. She had evidently arrived later than the _Capella_, for there was no sign of a craft bearing that name when thepatrol-vessel passed Cromarty on the previous afternoon. 

Punctually at seven bells a grey motor-boat dashed up alongside the_Capella's_ gangway. Shrap, whose instinct told him that his youngmaster was leaving the ship, anticipated him by making a prodigiousbound from the side into the waiting boat, alighting upon the shouldersof the coxswain, much to that worthy's astonishment. 

"Never mind, sir, " replied the man, in answer to Vernon's apologies. "I've a dog myself at home, very much like this one. "

"Let him come with us, " suggested Ross. "He'll kick up an awful row ifyou don't. "

So Shrap, coiled up in the stern-sheets, had his way. 

Having received the midshipmen, the boat turned and threshed its way inthe teeth of a strong easterly breeze. 

"Yes, sir, that's the _Hunbilker_, " replied the coxswain in answer toVernon's query, as a large grey shape loomed through the twilight. 

"By Jove!" ejaculated Ross, absolutely taken aback. "She's a whopper. Old Barry's got a battleship. If she isn't a sister ship to the_Tremendous_, I'm a----"

Fortunately for him, Ross refrained from saying what he might be, foras things turned out he was wrong. The _Hunbilker_ commenced hercareer as a 6000-ton merchantman, but no one would recognize her assuch. 

In all probability, but for the war, she would have ended her career assuch. But the Navy required her for a certain purpose, and loyally theold tramp stepped into the breach. When, after a lapse of nine weeks, she emerged from the repairing basin, her disguise was complete. Shelooked to be what she was not. It is, therefore, no cause forwonderment that the two midshipmen were deceived by the enormousoutlines of what appeared to be a formidable unit of the British Navy. The _Hunbilker_ was, in short, a maritime ass in lion's skin, but herrole was none the less a responsible one. 

"I was rather doubtful whether you would turn up, " remarked Barry. "The glass is dropping like billy-ho, and there's a brute of a seatumbling in. "

"We need not return to-night, " announced Ross. 

"That's capital, " rejoined the Lieutenant-Commander. "I'll get thehands to hoist in the boat and trice the accommodation-ladder up. Weroll like a barrel in a sea-way. "

"You've got a big command this time, sir, " said Vernon. 

Barry smiled. 

"Yes, " he replied. "Plenty of room, but the lighting 'tween decks isrotten. All artificial, you know, except the little we get in throughthe quarter-deck skylights. I'm expecting young Jolly; he's the A. P. You saw ashore at Invergordon. Not a bad sort of youngster when he'sclear of his work. Would you like to look round before we go below?"

"Of course the Germans know all about our dummy battleships, " continuedBarry as he led the way. "They jeered at the scheme in the papers asfar back as last November twelvemonth. "

"Then what's the object?" asked Ross. 

"It muddles them up. They can't distinguish the _Tremendous_ from thispacket, especially in hazy weather. They've got to guess which is thesubstance and which is the shadow. From actual results we know nowthat the costly experiment has more than justified the expenditure. "

The Lieutenant-Commander and his young guests continued to talk shopuntil it was time to go below. From that moment, conversation driftedinto other channels of more or less personal interest. 

Presently a loud whistle was heard from without. 

"That's Jolly, " declared the Lieutenant-Commander. "It's the last boatto-night, I fancy. "

A few minutes later the A. P. , having divested himself of his drippingoilies and sou'wester, was ushered into the cabin. Separated from hisduties as Accountant Officer, he was much the same as other men. Rosscould hardly believe that the jovial officer--for he did not now beliehis name--was the same explosive man who had figuratively lost his headover four ounces of "tacks tinned". 

Dinner over, the four officers drew their chairs close to the fire andyarned incessantly. Even the laboured rolling of the ship, the howlingof the wind overhead, and the _chouf chouf_ of the waves as theyslapped against the sides, failed to remind them that they were afloatand in an exposed anchorage. 

"Heard from your sister recently?" enquired Barry, addressing the A. P. He tried to ask the question in a natural tone of voice, but themidshipmen were quick to perceive a deepening of the tan in theLieutenant-Commander's weather-beaten face. 

"Had a letter only this morning, " replied Jolly; "a fairly long one, too. I suppose things have quieted down a bit after the rush. Mysister's a double one, you know, " he added, turning to Ross and hischum. 

"A what?" asked Ross. 

"She's my sister, and she's a nursing sister at a naval hospital, "explained the A. P. "There's a very quaint little bit. I must read itto you. "

He produced an envelope from his pocket. 

"'You remember Marjory May?'" he read. "'She's had her wish. Shejoined here as a probationer, on the day after that terrible destroyeraffair. We had most of the cases. One of the patients was a stoker, who had been knocked about by a shell exploding in a bunker (whateverthat is--it sounds like golf). Marjorie had her first task--to washhim before the doctor could operate. I went to see how she wasprogressing, and found the poor girl on the verge of tears. 'Oh, sister!' she exclaimed; 'I've been scrubbing him for ten minutes, and Ican't get him clean!' It was rather dull in the ward, so I switched onthe light. Then I saw the cause of Marjory's distress. The poorstoker was a half-caste. "

"By Jove!" ejaculated the A. P. As a particularly savage gust laid theship well over. "It isn't half blowing!"

"Yes, my festive friend, " agreed Barry; "it is! Fortunately you arenot due back to-night. If you were it wouldn't signify, for I wouldn'torder a boat away on a night like this. To-morrow, if it hasn'tmoderated--and the worst is yet to come--we'll weigh and stand up theFirth into smoother water. "

There was a pause in the conversation. The din without was nowterrific. One of the worst of the winter gales was approaching itsclimax--a furious nor'easter. 

"Come in!" shouted Barry as a knock was heard at the cabin door. 

"Wireless message, sir, " announced one of the ship's boys. 

"Very good, " replied the Lieutenant-Commander. Then, after themessenger had backed out, he started to his feet. 

"I say, you fellows!" he exclaimed. "Here's a pretty kettle of fish:'Flag to _Hunbilker_: Proceed to sea at once. Rendezvous Lat. 5° E. , Long. 57° 30' N. ' That means, whether you like it or whether youdon't, you're bound for the Baltic. "

CHAPTER XXX

The Affair off Kiel

Clad in their oilskins over their greatcoats, the two midshipmenaccompanied Barry to the bridge. The A. P. , on second thoughts, decided to remain below. He had a rooted objection to getting hisglasses smothered in spray if it could be avoided. 

Steam had been raised a week ago, when the _Hunbilker_ left Newcastlefor Cromarty, so there was no delay on that account. Already the steamcapstan was clanking dolorously as fathom after fathom of chain creptwith seeming reluctance through the hawse-pipe. 

It was a night. Towering seas, sweeping in from the exposed MorayFirth, surged madly into the more sheltered inlet where the dummybattleship strained at her cable. The air was thick with sleet. Overhead, black clouds scudded rapidly across the moon. 

Even though the ship was partly under the lee of the projecting ground, the midshipmen knew that it would be hopeless to attempt to lower aboat. For good or ill they were bound to remain on board. 

"Suppose it's all right, " remarked Ross. "We may get a chance of doingsomething, far more so than if we were on board the _Capella_, now thissubmarine blockade fiasco is finished. At any rate it's not our faultwe're here. "

"But our good fortune, " added Vernon. "Evidently there's a big affaircoming off, though I can't quite see what this vessel's going to do init. "

For fifteen hours of darkness the _Hunbilker_ plodded steadily onwards. No lights were shown, yet it was a known fact that at least thirtyvessels of various types were converging upon the rendezvous. 

Captain Barry never once quitted the bridge. Although his lofty postwas constantly deluged by clouds of icy spray, and the weather side ofthe bridge-rail canvas was inches deep in sleet, he braved the elementsthrough watch and watch, snatching a hasty meal of cocoa (which wascold by the time it reached him) and biscuits under the lee of thechart-house. 

Day dawned at last. Ross and Vernon, who had gone below to snatch afew hours' sleep, came on deck to find the _Hunbilker_ at therendezvous. She lay in the midst of a fleet. There were the greatbattle-cruisers, Dreadnoughts and their replicas, light cruisers, and agalaxy of torpedo-boats--the latter swept from stem to stern by thewaves. 

Without any appreciable weakening of the Grand Fleet, this maritimeforce had been assembled for particular service--presumably in theBaltic, although no orders to that effect had yet been received. 

All that short January day the fleet steamed slowly eastward, whilesignal flags fluttered incessantly. No hostile submarine put in anappearance. Either the Germans feared the swift destroyers thatencircled the large vessels, or else they were in ignorance of thepresence of the British within four hours' steaming of their shores. 

It was not until night that the _Hunbilker_ received her orders. Shehad to proceed in advance of the destroyers, and under cover ofdarkness pass through the Great Belt. Having done so, she was to berun aground on a shoal between the Danish island of Laaland and thePrussian island of Fehmern, the latter being within forty miles of thestronghold of the German Navy at Kiel. 

Then she was to await developments. If attacked by submarines, theBritish destroyers would dash in; but what the British Admiral fondlyhoped was that the hostile battleships or armoured cruisers would notbe able to resist the temptation of sallying forth from Kiel to givethe supposed Dreadnought her _coup de grāce_. In this case oursubmarines would "chip in", and possibly the battle-cruisers mightscore with their deadly and accurate long-range salvoes. 

"It's not so risky as it looks, " commented Barry as he explained thetactics to the midshipmen. "You see, they can torpedo us as much asthey like, and blow the dummy sides of the ship to bits piecemeal. Wecan't sink, since we'll be hard aground. We can't take fire--at least, it would be quite a job to get any part of her to burn without beingable to keep the flames under control. Gunnery, of course, puts adifferent aspect on the subject. If the enemy start shelling us withtheir heavy guns, then the sooner we abandon ship and clear out thebetter, and leave our big cruisers to mop up the Huns. "

Grey dawn was breaking when the _Hunbilker_, having made the passagethrough the Great Belt, ran gently aground at the spot indicated in theAdmiral's orders. Away in the sou'west, a glare in the sky that wasrapidly fading with the growing morn indicated the search-lights of theKiel defences. Eastwards, two huge grey shapes loomed ghost-like inthe half-light. Whether they were British cruisers or decoys, or evenGerman battleships, Ross could not determine. 

The _Hunbilker_ lay with a slight list to starboard. All around herthe sea was covered with drifting ice. An utter stillness brooded overeverything. The silence was in keeping with the scene of desolation. 

Suddenly the deafening blast of the _Hunbilker's_ siren rent the air. It was the prearranged signal that she was in readiness; it was alsoher challenge to the Kiel-tied German fleet. 

Ten minutes later a lurid flash, followed by a dull booming noise, camefrom the nearmost of the two vessels Ross had previously noticed. 

"Either mine or torpedo, " remarked Barry casually. "It doesn'tsignify. They won't sink her in a hurry. "

"What is she, sir?" asked Vernon. 

"Our opposite number, the _Snark_, " replied the Lieutenant-Commander. "See, she's steaming northwards, without any apparent injury. It willbe our turn before very long. "

At frequent intervals the siren shrieked, as if calling to the rest ofthe squadron for assistance. Then out of the rising mist, for with thebreak of day a thin pall of vapour rose from the ice-flecked water, leapt two German torpedo-boats. 

"Port side, all hands!" roared Barry. 

Officers and crew put the greatest possible distance between them andthe side of the ship exposed to the hostile craft. Without slackeningspeed, the torpedo-boats described a sharp curve. Their officers musthave wondered why they were not greeted by the stranded battleship'squick-firers. As they turned, two gleaming objects floppedungracefully from their decks and disappeared with a splash beneath thesurface. Each boat had fired a torpedo from her broadside tubes. 

From the place where the midshipmen stood, they were not able to followthe track of the formidable missiles; but they had not long to wait. Both torpedoes struck almost simultaneously--one abreast of the for'arddummy turret, the other fifty feet farther aft. 

High in the air rose a column of water mingled with fragments of ironplating; while in their place of hiding the two lads were smotheredwith cork-dust and blackened cotton that had been blown from the spacebetwixt the outer and inner hulls. 

"It's lucky for us that they didn't use their quick-firers, " remarkedBarry. "They would have pulverized us before our destroyers romped up. By Jove, Haye, that dog of yours looks as though he likes it! Hulloa!There you are!"

The Lieutenant-Commander pointed to the southward. A rift in the mistdisclosed a two-masted, two-funnelled armoured cruiser about two milesoff. 

"The _Prinz Heinrich_ or the _Fürst Bismarck_, " declared Barry. "We'veturned 'em out. Hope to goodness our little lot will be in time tosnap them up. Unless I'm much mistaken, there are two more astern ofher. "

Almost as he spoke, a spurt of flame rent the dull sky. Then, to theaccompaniment of a vivid flash and an ear-splitting detonation, a5. 9-inch shell burst against the for'ard dummy turret of the_Hunbilker_. 

When the smoke had cleared away, guns, turret, and conning-tower, together with a portion of the bridge, had vanished. 

"All hands abandon ship!" ordered Barry, as a salvo of lightprojectiles flew round, over, and through the decoy. 

It was quite time. Several men had been hit, since there was nothingto afford complete protection from the hail of shells. The difficultywas to find a boat that was seaworthy, since these suffered almost atonce from the flying fragments of metal. 

"Hurrah, sir!" shouted one of the men. "There are our destroyers. "

He was right. Seven British destroyers were tearing through the water, intent upon giving the Germans the punishment that they had boasted toinflict upon the strafed Englishmen--a hussar stroke. 

Instantly the galling fire ceased. The German cruiser had all her workcut out to endeavour to beat off her wasp-like antagonists. 

The _Hunbilker_ was doomed. In spite of elaborate precautions againstfire, she was burning furiously. Her fo'c'sle was a mass of flames, generated by the intense heat of the first shell that had struck her. Smaller fires, too, had started in other parts of the ship. 

But help was at hand. One of the covering destroyers had witnessed herplight. Adroitly manoeuvring, she came right alongside the burningship. 

"Jump, men!" shouted Barry. 

There was no time to be lost. The danger of the flames communicatingwith the shells and war-heads on the destroyer's deck was to be takeninto consideration. 

"Come on, old man!" exclaimed Ross, as his chum looked anxiously abouthim. 

"Where's Shrap?" asked Vernon. "He was here a minute ago. "

In the confusion, occasioned by the rush of men to leap upon thedestroyer, the dog had vanished. 

Without a word Vernon ran towards the companion leading to thehalf-deck. Above the roar of the flames and the hissing of steam, hehad heard the well-known bark of his pet. 

"Silly ass!" muttered Ross; but he, too, followed his chum. 

Wreaths of thin smoke were issuing from the companion as Ross gainedthe head of the ladder. Putting his muffler round his mouth, he gropedhis way down. 'Tween decks the air was full of smoke. He could hearShrap's insistent bark, and Vernon's voice as, amidst fits of coughing, he called to his canine companion. 

"Whatever is the matter with the brute?" thought Ross, as he fought hisway along the half-deck. 

A gaping hole in the ship's side admitted sufficient light to enablehim to discern his comrade backing from one of the cabins. Shrap waspreceding him, while Vernon was dragging something limp and heavy. Itwas the body of the luckless A. P. 

Without a word, for the atmosphere was hot and choky, Ross bore a hand. Stumbling and slipping, the two lads bore their burden to thecompanion, and by dint of much exertion carried Jolly on deck. 

"Is he dead?" asked Ross, after he had refilled his lungs with lesssmoke-laden air. 

"I don't think so, " said Vernon. "It was good old Shrap that foundhim. "

The A. P. Was below when the salvo from the German cruiser struck theship. He had gone to the cabin temporarily allotted to him to obtainsome small but cherished belonging. A fragment from one of the shellshad inflicted a nasty scalp wound, stretching him senseless upon thefloor. 

Had it not been for the sheep-dog, whose sagacity made him recognizethat Jolly was a friend of his master's, the A. P. Would have ended hiscareer in the burning hull of the _Hunbilker_. 

"Hurry up!" exclaimed Ross. "Let's get him aboard the destroyer. "

Between them they carried the insensible officer across thequarter-deck, but as they reached the side abreast the wreckage of thesuperstructure they came to an abrupt halt. 

The destroyer had sheered off and was out of sight. 

"Now what's to be done?" asked Vernon, aghast at the latest turn offortune. 

They laid the A. P. On the deck and looked over the side. Still madefast to the falls was a whaler, with her keel ten feet above water. When the order had been given to abandon ship, the boat had beenlowered, but the appearance of the destroyer had done away with thenecessity of having to make use of her. 

"Lower away!" ordered Ross. 

Checking the descent by taking a turn round the cleats, the ladsallowed the whaler to reach the water. To their satisfaction theyfound that she leaked but very little. Oars and crutches were alreadyon board, together with mast and sail. 

"Down you get, " said Ross. "Let go the after disengaging gear, thenstand by. I'll let Jolly down to you. "

Vernon quickly swarmed down the falls, while his chum carried the A. P. To the now empty davit. Taking a few turns with his strong mufflerround the chest of the unconscious man, Ross engaged the hook of thelower block, and slowly lowered him into Vernon's arms. Shrap followedin a similar manner, since the drop was too great for him to leapwithout risk of limb. Then Ross climbed down and gained the boat. Hewas not a minute too soon, for the flames were drawing nearer and theheat was becoming almost unbearable. 

Placing Jolly in the stern-sheets, the lads stepped the mast andhoisted sail. Nothing else was in sight, although the rumble of heavyfiring was still audible. 

"I'll steer north, " declared Ross, who had taken the helm, while Vernonattended to the A. P. 's ugly wound. "If we are not picked up by one ofour own boats, we are almost bound to hit one of the Danish islands. "

There was but little wind. What there was, blew from a couple ofpoints abaft the beam, so that the little craft was able to liecomfortably upon her course. 

At length Jolly opened his eyes. Somewhat to his companions' amusementhis first words were:

"Dash it all! Where did I leave my glasses? Hulloa! I've beenplugged. Where am I?"

He attempted to sit up, but promptly subsided upon the gratings in thestern-sheets, and in a very short time he began to talk incoherently, and finally dropped off into a fitful slumber. 

The fog had now increased in density, so that it was no longer possibleto see more than a hundred yards ahead. Several vessels moving at highspeed passed within hailing distance, but no reply came to the lads'shouts. 

"There's a hail!" exclaimed Vernon. 

Again came the sound of a human voice. It was a call for aid, and wasuttered in German. 

"Steady!" cautioned Vernon, as Ross put the helm down. "We don't wantto run alongside a cargo of Huns. "

"There's only one, I should imagine, " replied his chum. "At any ratewe'll have a look. If there are too many, we'll sheer off. "

Guided by the repeated calls for assistance, the midshipmen came insight of a disabled boat. It had been holed, and was kept afloat onlyby some of its air-tanks which had escaped damage. The gunwales, jagged by shell-fire, were showing only a few inches above the water. The stern was almost awash, but the bows rose sufficiently high for theforefoot to be seen. Crouching on the for'ard thwart was a Germanofficer. He was bareheaded. The collar of his greatcoat was turnedup. His face was blanched by the intense cold. As the whalerapproached and he saw that it was a British one, he held up his handsin token of surrender. 

Dropping to leeward, Ross luffed smartly. The whaler lost way almostalongside the waterlogged boat. 

Awkwardly the German clambered over the gunwale, for his limbs werenumbed. Then, as soon as he was safely on board, he drew a revolverfrom the pocket of his greatcoat and fired twice in quick succession. 

Ross saw his chum throw up his arms and pitch across the centre thwart. The next instant he felt a stinging pain in his shoulder, as if it werepierced by a red-hot needle. 

"The brute has plugged me!" was the thought that flashed through hismind, as he subsided heavily upon the grating by the side of the A. P. 

He was still conscious, although everything seemed misty. Up to acertain point he remembered exactly what happened, for with a suddenspring Shrap flew at the treacherous Teuton's throat. 

Again and again the German fired, wildly and in the air, for thesheep-dog had him fixed in his unyielding jaws, shaking the fellow likea rat. Unable to move a limb, Ross remained conscious until the issuewas decided and victory rested with the devoted Shrap; then his headdropped upon his chest and everything became a blank. 

 * * * * *

Ross Trefusis recovered consciousness to find himself in hospital onthe East coast. In the next cot was Jolly, cutting a sorry figure withhis head swathed in surgical bandages. Vernon was in an adjoiningward, making a promising recovery from the wound caused by the cowardlyGerman's bullet that had passed between his ribs, fortunately justmissing his lungs. 

It was not until a week later that Ross heard of the manner of hisrescue. The whaler had been picked up by a destroyer. In it theyfound the three wounded British officers, and a dead German with histhroat fearfully lacerated. Not only had Shrap saved the situation, but he had helped still further to save his master's life, for it wasowing to the warmth of the dog's body that Vernon was saved from deathby exposure. 

One of the first of visitors to Ross's bedside was John Barry, nowCommander Barry, R. N. R. , D. S. O. 

"And how did the scrap come off?" asked Ross. 

"Fairly well, " replied the Commander. "We bagged a cruiser and acouple of destroyers. The old _Hunbilker_ justified her existence, yousee. "

"I'm afraid Haye and I are out of the running, " remarked Rossdisconsolately. 

"Not a bit of it, " replied Barry in his breezy way. "Not a bit of it. You'll both be as fit as fiddles in a couple of months. The Navy'spushing on with the job all right, Ross, but it's slow and sure. You'll be at it again long before the end. "

Ross gave a sigh of satisfaction. 

"Sounds promising, sir, doesn't it?" he exclaimed. 

By PERCY F. WESTERMAN

"No boy alive will be able to peruse Mr. Westerman's pages without aquickening of his pulses. "--Outlook. 

With Beatty off Jutland. A Romance of the Great Sea Fight. 

The Submarine Hunters. A Story of Naval Patrol Work. 

A Lively Bit of the Front. A Tale of the New Zealand Rifles on theWestern Front. 

A Sub and a Submarine. The Story of H. M. Submarine R19 in the GreatWar. 

Under the White Ensign. A Naval Story of the Great War. "No one cantell sea stories like Percy F. Westerman. "--Outlook. 

The Dispatch-Riders: The Adventures of Two British Motor-cyclists withthe Belgian Forces. "No boy will find a dull page in Mr. Westerman'sstory. "--Bookman. 

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Rounding up the Raider: A Naval Story of the Great War. 

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Captured at Tripoli: A Tale of Adventure. 

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