A Sub and a Submarine: The Story of H.M. Submarine R19 in the Great War
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CHAPTER XXIII
Trapped
"'Tain't quite all ship-shape, is it, sir?" enquired Petty OfficerChalmers, who, ignorant of the Russian language, could only base hissurmise upon the fact that Klostivitch had suspiciously made himselfscarce.
"I'm afraid not, Chalmers," replied Fordyce. "We took too much forgranted, and pal Vladimir has sold us a dog. Don't move till I strikea match; there may be boobytraps about."
The glimmer of the lighted match revealed the lamp. Either byaccident or design Klostivitch had left it on the floor.
"Proper Tower o' London sort of show," commented Chalmers, examininghis surroundings by the feeble glare. "Look, sir, that's where theold rascal shinned up."
He indicated a number of iron rungs clamped into the wall, whileimmediately above was a square opening in the stone ceiling, overwhich had been lowered a huge block of granite.
"Come along, sir," continued the petty officer. "Let's get back tothe steps. Maybe the slippery reptile hasn't had time to shut thedoor."
Quickly the two men ascended the flight of steps, only to find theirexit barred by a securely bolted door. Vainly the burly petty officerthrust with his shoulder against the firmly-held barrier.
"Hist!" exclaimed Fordyce.
From the other side of the door came the Russian's mirthless laugh.Then, finding that his captives had at least temporarily desistedfrom their efforts he shouted:
"Don't forget to keep the stove burning, you English imbeciles--thatis, _if the diamonds are what you think they are._"
Fordyce did not deign to reply, but, followed by his companion,descended the steps and gained the level passage. There was littlehere that called for examination beyond the iron clamps set in thewall; but at the farthermost end was a low, metal-bound door. It wasajar. There were bolts on both sides, but these had apparently notbeen used for a considerable time, since they were thickly encrustedwith rust.
Entering the cellar, the Sub found that it was a spacious place,measuring, roughly, 50 feet by 20, the vaulted roof being supportedby a row of four stone columns. In one corner was a large stove, theone to which Klostovitch had recently referred. A large portion ofthe floor was occupied by bundles of faggots and logs hewn into shortlengths, so that there was no lack of fuel.
Seven feet from the ground was a heavily-barred window through whicha cold current of air was pouring. Obviously communicating with theopen air, the aperture itself admitted no light.
"Let me give you a leg-up, sir," suggested Chalmers. "There doesn'tseem much chance of being able to shin through that window, butthere's no harm done in finding out what's outside."
Agilely Fordyce scrambled upon the broad back of the resourcefulpetty officer, steadying himself by grasping the iron bars, andallowed the lamplight to shine upon the scene without.
The opening communicated with an arched tunnel through which flowed asmall stream but at present the water was frozen hard. If it werepossible to remove the retaining bars and crawl through the aperture,the ice would form a safe way of escape, since the stream was boundto emerge into the open air in one or both directions.
"Well, sir, what's to be done now?" enquired Chalmers, when the Subhad made his report on his investigations. "It's no use sitting hereand doing a blessed stoker's job with that there fire. We can'texpect our chums to help us, or else old Klosytally, or whatever hecalls hisself, would bring up a crowd of his revolutionary pals."
"The Captain might appeal to the British Embassy," suggested Fordyce.
"I don't think that would be much good, sir," replied Chalmers. "Fromwhat I've seen of this blessed country, British interest don't seemto count for much. No, sir; it's no use trusting to others; we'llhave to work for ourselves."
"Quite so, Chalmers," agreed the Sub; "but I'm sorry I got you intothis mess."
"Don't you worry about me, sir," protested the imperturbable sailor."I'm quite content to follow my senior officer's movements withoutasking questions. I'll just try my knife on that window."
"One moment," interposed Fordyce. "This lamp won't burn so very muchlonger. Keep the door of the stove open, and throw on some more wood;we'll have to work by fire-light."
This done, and the lamp blown out, Chalmers set to work to loosen themortar in which were set the iron bars of the window.
For nearly an hour he toiled diligently, until the sweat poured downhis face in spite of the cold blast of air through the opening. Butthe effort was in vain. It was the blade of his knife that wasdiminishing, not the cement, which was as hard as cast iron.
"I'll knock off, sir," he said, scratching his head in hisdisappointment. "Might go on for a whole month of Sundays, and yetget no forrader."
"We'll try to get those bars red-hot," declared Fordyce. "We'veplenty of wood. Once we get the iron soft we can knock them out byusing a log as a maul."
"Might be done, sir," admitted Chalmers. "No harm in trying; it'llkeep us out of mischief, in a manner of speaking."
Acting upon the Sub's suggestion, a quantity of wood was stackedbetween the bars and set on fire. Fanned by the strong air-current,the combustibles burned fiercely, but the result was far fromsatisfactory. In less than five minutes the cellar was filled withchoking fumes, and had not the experimenters torn away the burningwood they would have been suffocated.
IT WAS MINDIGGLE]
The hours passed slowly. Hunger and want of sleep were beginning toassail the prisoners. For their personal comfort they kept the bigheating-stove well supplied, as they had not the slightest fear thata fall in temperature would affect the contents of the dummy packetwhich Fordyce still retained.
The two men were almost on the point of falling into a fitful slumberwhen Klostivitch's voice hailed them. Lighting the lamp, Fordyce madehis way to the passage. A sense of dignity forbade him to hurry, butcuriosity prompted him to ascertain the cause of the interruption.
The place was deserted. The Russian had removed the stone covering tothe trap, for on the floor was a basket containing food and a jar ofwater.
"He evidently doesn't mean to starve us," commented the Sub as hecarried the basket to the cellar. "I wonder if the stuff's drugged."
"I'll risk it, anyway," declared Chalmers. "I'm fair famished, sir.How goes the enemy, sir?"
Fordyce consulted his watch.
"A quarter-past nine," he replied. "You turn in, Chalmers. I'll takefirst trick."
The petty officer, having eaten his share of the scanty repast, wassoon sound asleep. Fordyce, having made up the fire, prepared to keepwatch, not knowing what move his captor might make.
It was close on midnight when he heard his name called. Hardly ableto credit his senses, the Sub started to his feet. The voice seemedfamiliar, yet he could not fix the speaker's identity.
Relighting the lamp, and without disturbing his sleeping companion,the Sub hastened along the passage. Suddenly he halted. The trap-doorabove his head was opened, and through the aperture could be seen thehead and shoulders of a man. His features were muffled in a turned-upfur collar, while an astrakhan cap was drawn well down over hisforehead; but, in spite of this, Fordyce was now able to recognizethe man.
It was Mindiggle.