CHAPTER XIX
THE TABLES TURNED
"WHAT'S for dinner at the mess to-night?" inquired Blenkinson."Wonder if the management has got rid of our box for 'The Maid of theMountains'? If not, will he try and make us pay up?"
"The theatre people can try," replied Cumberleigh grimly. "Hopethey'll accept the excuse: unavoidable absence."
"Wonder how Pyecroft got on?" remarked Jefferson.
The three R.A.F. officers were cooped up in the otherwise emptystoreroom of U 247. They were in utter darkness. The place was damp,ill ventilated, and reeked abominably. Moisture was constantlyforming on the curved angle-iron deck beams and drippingpromiscuously upon the captives.
"It is presumed that the genial captain of this vessel," continuedJefferson, "has not yet invested in a cinematograph. If he had itwould be reasonable to suppose that he would have us on deck atregular intervals, supply us with cigarettes and cock-tails, and atthe same time take a film to let neutrals know how benevolent andhumane the Hun is when he is on the warpath. I am afraid my surmiseis correct. Therefore we languish in captivity."
"Anyone any idea of the time?" inquired Cumberleigh. "My watch sayshalf-past three, but I can't depend upon it."
"Mine shows ten o'clock," reported Blenkinson, consulting theluminous dial of his wristlet watch. "Unfortunately it omits toinform me whether it is AK Emma or PIP Emma, and I'm hanged if I knowwhich it is."
"My watch went west the day before yesterday," said Jefferson. "Thebest Waterbury in existence is not proof against the back-fire of asix-cylinder car. Now if that fellow Fennelburt were here, he had aripping little watch, I noticed."
"By the way, what happened to Fennelburt?" inquired Cumberleigh.
"Happened?" echoed Jefferson. "Why he's in the cart, same as us. Hardlines on the chap--taking him out on a joy trip and then landing himin this mess."
Cumberleigh grunted. He was not at all sure that he agreed withJefferson's sentiments. Not that he had any suspicion that Fennelburthad conjured up the U-boat to take the Salvage Syndicate prisoners.The suggestion that the party should go fishing emanated fromhimself. Yet it was somewhat curious that Fennelburt should beseparated from the others.
The three Auldhaig Air Station officers had had a sticky time duringthe last twenty-four hours. During that period they had been twicesupplied with scanty and unappetising meals; they had dozed fitfullyin the foetid atmosphere of their cell, but up to the present theyhad not been allowed on deck to get a breath of fresh air.
"Hope old Pyecroft pulled it off all right," remarked Blenkinson. Hehad harped on the matter at least a dozen times. Pyecroft had beenhis special pal. They had flown over the German lines together; theyhad crashed in the same 'bus; they had spent six weeks in the samehospital--in all, quite sufficient to cement a casual acquaintanceinto a lifelong friendship.
"There's the chance, anyway," said Jefferson. "He may not have beenmissed, and--hello what's the game now? They've stopped the motors."
The three men listened intently. The faintest alteration in therhythmic purr of the U-boat's engines set their nerves on edge. Theyknew something of the fearfully ingenious devices used to strafe Hunsubmarines, and now they were metaphorically at the business end of abig gun, whereas formerly they had been behind it. It was adisconcerting affair, exposed to unseen perils that might withoutwarning send them to their death in company with a crowd of Huns.And, unless Pyecroft had succeeded in getting safely ashore, themanner of their going would remain a secret for all time.
For several long-drawn seconds the trio listened in silence. Theyknew by the difference in the pulsations of the motors that theU-boat had been running on the surface. The diving-tanks had not beenfilled, otherwise they would have heard the gurgling inrush of water.For some reason the submarine had brought up and was drifting withwind and tide.
A quarter of an hour elapsed, then the petrol-motors were restarted.Very soon after the door of their cell was unlocked and a couple ofHun seamen appeared.
"Come you on deck!" one exclaimed, with such a broad smile thatCumberleigh and Co. suspected a dirty trick on the part of Fritz.
"Anything to get a breather," ejaculated Blenkinson. "Lead on, oldbird!"
In single file the three British officers followed their guide alongthe intricate alley-way and on deck via the conning-tower hatchway.
A hurried glance gave no clue to the unexpected change ofenvironment. The U-boat was forging ahead. By noting the position ofthe sun the captive officers knew that the course was approximatelyeast, and that direction led towards Germany. The skyline wasunbroken. Neither the proximity of land nor the presence of anothercraft was evident to account for the change of attitude on the partof their captors.
"We friends is," continued the Hun who had previously addressed them;and as evidence of good faith he handed the Englishmen a box ofcigarettes.
The dearth of tobacco, cigars and cigarettes that had been noticeableamongst the ratings during von Preugfeld's regime was now,temporarily at least, a thing of the past. The former ober-leutnant'scabin had been systematically ransacked, with the result that agoodly store of tobacco had been discovered and distributed.
"What has gone wrong?" inquired Captain Cumberleigh, speaking slowlyin order to make himself understood. "Where are your officers?"
The seaman paused before replying. In order to ingratiate himself hewould not have hesitated to confess that the Prussian tyrants hadbeen thrown overboard; but in the event of the submarine makingHamburg safely or else being overhauled by a vessel flying the BlackCross Ensign, the knowledge that the Englishmen knew the secret mightprove decidedly awkward.
"They overboard fell, Herr Offizier," replied the German. "They standso, making what the Englisch sailors call 'shooting der sun.' A bigwave come an' pouf!--dey are gone."
Cumberleigh nodded. For the present he deemed it prudent to acceptthe statement, although he was aware by the comparatively easy motionthat the U-boat had not encountered heavy weather. Nor had the Germansailor given any explanation why the collapsible canvas boat had notbeen lowered to effect a rescue.
"And where is Captain Fennelburt?" he asked. "There were four of ustaken prisoners."
A blank look overspread the Teuton's heavy features. He extended hispalms in a manner that expressed complete disinterestedness.
Cumberleigh pressed the point. The Hun turned and consulted hiscomrades. Apparently they had not taken this factor into theircalculations.
"I want no lies," continued Cumberleigh, who was rapidly finding hisfeet. "What has become of the fourth officer (he was about to prefixthe word British, but somehow he checked himself) who was taken onboard?"
"Kapitan von Preugfeld him sent on land last night, Herr Offizier,"announced the man.
"For what reason?"
"I do not know der plans of Kapitan von Preugfeld," explained theGerman. "An' he not is here to ask."
This was simple, but none the less truthful logic. It was hardlyconceivable that the ober-leutnant should explain his actions to alower-deck rating.
"It's jolly rummy, any old way," remarked Blenkinson. "The wholebusiness is fishy--decidedly fishy. And I reckon that big wave yarnwon't go down."
Again the German strolled up, smiling and apparently unperturbed.
"You know der mine-fields, Herr Offizier?" he asked. "You can take usto Zhermany?"
"All I know," replied Cumberleigh pointedly, "is that there aremines--thousands of them--and that you're going straight for them. Imight add that I know the course to Auldhaig. It's a jolly sightsafer than barging along as you're doing."
The German apparently saw the wisdom of the suggestion. He retired toconsult his companions. On a Soviet-controlled ship everyone has tohave a say--with conflicting and other disastrous results.
Kaspar Krauss and Hans Furst vehemently opposed the suggestion,which, considering the fact that they were the ringleaders in themutiny, was somewhat remarkable. The desire to get home overruledtheir fears of running against a mine.
Others, fearful lest the cursebe brought home to them, clamoured to be taken into a British port,bringing forward the argument that German prisoners of war in Englandwere well treated and that no difference was made in the case of menwho had served in U-boats.
How long the drolly-conducted debate would have lasted remains amatter for speculation, but it was brought to an abrupt and stillundecided conclusion by one of the men raising a shout and pointingastern.
A vessel of some description was approaching rapidly. The enormous"bone in her teeth" as her sharp bows cleft the waves into frothyclouds of foam showed that she was moving at a terrific rate.
"An English ship!" exclaimed the fellow excitedly. "A U-boat hunter!Quick, run up the white flag, or we'll be blown to bits!"
All was scurry bordering on panic. There was a hasty rush to find theemblem of surrender. Hans Furst, gripping the interpreter by theshoulders, shouted to him to ask the English officers to go aft andstand in a conspicuous place.
Cumberleigh and his companions fell in with the request with thegreatest good humour. They had no desire to become objectives for theapproaching vessel's quick-firers. They realised that deliverancefrom a hideous captivity was at hand.
Suddenly Kaspar Krauss, who was standing just abaft theconning-tower, shouted to his fellow mutineer-in-chief.
"It's one of our U-boats after all," he exclaimed. "Now we shall haveto be most careful."
"Surely not," questioned Furst, snatching up a pair of binoculars.
Then, after a brief scrutiny, he added, "You're right, Kaspar.There's a number--U 231--painted on her conning-tower. Kick thoseEnglishmen below. They will be of no further use to us. Dietrich,untoggle that white flag and hoist our ensign again. Make our privatesignal, too. For heaven's sake look sharp about it!"
Calling to two or three of his comrades, Kaspar Krauss began to makehis way aft, with the intention of putting into execution thecongenial task of kicking the Englishmen below.
Before he had taken a couple of steps, the flash of a gun brought himup all standing. Dumfounded, he stared at the oncoming vessel. Eventhe terrific splash of the ricochetting shot, barely fifty yardsaway, failed to detract his attention, for the approaching craft hadhoisted her colours--no Black Cross Ensign, but the White Ensign of anavy that has a glorious tradition covering over a thousand years.
The seaman Dietrich paused in the act of hoisting the U-boat'sensign. Frantically Furst shouted to him to run up the white flagafter all.
"Be quick!" yelled half a dozen voices. "Be quick before she firesagain!"
It was an excellent example of the lack of discipline. When the menwere ruled, although by an iron hand, they did their work smartly andwell. In secret they grumbled, but the fact remained they carried outthe orders of their commanding officers with automaton-likeprecision. Deprived by their own act of a real leader, they haddeteriorated within the space of a few hours into a panic-strickenmob.
The Black Cross Ensign--the hoisting of which might have drawn adevastating fire upon the mutineers--was untoggled and rolled into aball with indecorous haste, and a rectangular piece of white clothwas hoisted to the mast-head. Even Hans Furst heaved a sigh ofrelief. Captivity awaited him, but, after all, it was preferable tobeing "bowled out" by the German naval authorities and ignominiouslyshot as a mutineer.
Then as Q 171--to outward appearances she was U 231--lost way acable's length astern of her prize and trained her formidablearmament upon the mutineers, the Huns lined up on deck with handsupraised, shouting their craven shibboleth of "Kamerad."
Blenkinson smiled.
"Good as a play, eh, what?" he remarked.
"I agree," remarked Cumberleigh. "After all, I'm glad I missed 'TheMaid of the Mountains.'"
The Mystery Ship: A Story of the 'Q' Ships During the Great War Page 19
