The Mystery Ship: A Story of the 'Q' Ships During the Great War

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER XXXIII

  THE RELIEF VESSEL

  THE next day dawned bright and clear. Hardly a ripple disturbed theplacid surface of the Flow, although beyond the harbour the floodtide was boiling and seething through the Pentland Firth, with a roarthat sounded like a continuous peal of thunder.

  M.L.'s 1497 and 1499 were ready to cast off when Cumberleigh steppedon board the former--Meredith's command. Morpeth had forestalled theR.A.F. officer by a good hour.

  "When do you pick her up?" inquired Cumberleigh, referring to theGerman vessel bringing stores and relief crews to the fleet inbondage. "I hope," he added anxiously, "that it won't be like that."

  He pointed to the turbulent tidal current. "We'll be miles outsidethat," replied Meredith. "I expect to sight her fifteen or twentymiles east of Duncansbay Head--off the Pentland Skerries, to beexact. Hullo! Wakefield's moving."

  With much spluttering of exhausts, No. 1499 swung out, gathered way,and headed for the open sea.

  "Let go for'ard... let go aft!" ordered Meredith.

  He invariably took the helm himself when leaving or approaching theharbour. A true son of the sea, he delighted in feeling the kick ofthe helm and the lift of the little craft to the curling waves. Yet,sadly, he realised that the time was drawing near when no more wouldhe sail under the White Ensign and have the responsibility ofcommand. For the future he would either relegate to an amateuryachtsman or go as a passenger on a pleasure steamer when he wentafloat. Vaguely he wondered whether it would be anything like holdingcommand. He thought not.

  He had had a letter from Pyecroft that morning. Pyecroft wasliterally eating his heart out in Bournemouth, already utterly fed upwith civilian life.

  "I went up yesterday," he wrote. "They're running flights at twoguineas a head in a Handley-Page. Couldn't resist it; but, by Jove!it was as dull as ditch-water having to watch another bloke at thejoystick. Just fancy paying two guineas, when I was paid twelve bob aday in the Service for practically the same thing. And the price ofeverything! I never realised it when I was in the R.A.F. I tell you,it will knock the bottom out of my gratuity when I get it."

  "Sufficient is the day..." thought Meredith, and as the M.L. tookthe first comber over her sharp bows and flung a shower of spraycompletely over the fluttering pennant, he threw forebodings to thewinds.

  "Fine little boat, eh, what?" he exclaimed, addressing Morpeth, wholike an old war-dog was revelling in the sensation of being afloatonce more. "Take her, if you like."

  "Tough Geordie" did so with alacrity. To him it was a novelsensation. Apart from the fact that he was no longer commander of avessel, and had perforce to spend his time superintending theembarking and landing of bluejackets and naval stores, he had beenused to handling ships of large tonnage. To him No. 1497 appearedlike a swift skimming-dish, and required but little helm to make herturn almost in her own length.

  "Fine little craft!" he declared enthusiastically. "Takes somegetting used to. I feel like a carter riding a Derby winner. Hello!Destroyer on our starboard quarter."

  "Yes," said Meredith. "She stands by while we board--just a matter ofprecaution, you know. We can run alongside a vessel; but if she tookon the boarding stunts he'd have to lower a boat."

  He gave orders for the M. L. to show her distinguishing number, then,having received the acknowledgment from the destroyer, Meredith toldoff one of the crew to take the helm.

  An hour and a half later the two M.L.'s arrived at the rendezvous.There was no sign of the _Hohenhoorn_--the expected relief ship.

  "Another dirty trick of Fritz's to keep us barging about in aseaway," bawled Wakefield through a megaphone. "Sorry I can't haveyou fellows on board to lunch."

  "Don't want any, thanks," replied Cumberleigh feelingly. It was a fardifferent motion, running dead slow in an M.L., from that of theheavily-ballasted Q 171. He was beginning to feel unpleasantly warmin the region immediately below the buckle of his belt.

  "Nothing like a little rifle practice to buck a fellow up," shoutedWakefield. "I'll tow a bottle astern. Bet you fifty cigarettes youdon't smash it in a dozen rounds."

  "Done," replied Cumberleigh; and the skipper of M.L. 1499 proceededto carry out his share of the programme.

  Even at a bare five knots the bottle was a difficult target as itbobbed and zigzagged in the wake of the M.L. At the sixth shotCumberleigh began to lose his optimism; at the ninth he lookedpositively glum; at the eleventh, that ricochetted clean over thetarget, he turned to Meredith.

  "The barrel isn't leaded, is it?" he inquired. "I had the beastlybottle dead on the sights every time."

  "One more to go," observed Kenneth.

  Cumberleigh raised the rifle to his shoulder, took careful aim, andpressed the trigger. The bullet struck the water a couple of yardsbeyond the untouched target.

  "You've won," shouted Cumberleigh.

  "Have you a pistol on board?" inquired Morpeth, who had been a silentbut interested spectator.

  "Yes," replied Kenneth.

  "I'll borrow it, then," continued Morpeth. "Ahoy, there! Will youtake me on the same terms?"

  "Right-o," replied Wakefield.

  "A hundred yards," commented "Tough Geordie," thrusting the weaponunder the stump of his left arm, and opening the breech to ascertainthat the chambers were loaded.

  Without any apparent effort, and with what appeared to be a carelessmovement, Morpeth raised the weapon.

  "Bang! bang! bang!" it barked in quick succession.

  "A hit!" exclaimed Cumberleigh enthusiastically, as the bottle leaptalmost clear of the swirling wake.

  "No," replied Morpeth. "I've only cut the towline."

  Thrice more the heavy pistol barked. At the sixth shot the bottle,smashed to fragments, disappeared from view.

  "Not bad," commented Morpeth modestly. "Considering the livelyplatform, it wasn't a bad shot."

  "A capital shot, by Jove!" declared Kenneth.

  "S'pose I'm a bit out of practice," exclaimed the R.N.R. officer. "Itused to be a favourite pastime in the old Foul Anchor Line. You see,if a Dago thought of using a knife, he'd consider twice when he knewa fellow could shoot straight. For my own part, I'd as lief use myfist in a close scrap, but you can't hit a periscope at two hundredyards with your fist. One of our skippers shattered one at twohundred--that was early in '15, when Fritz wasn't so careful as hewas later--and it wasn't all luck either. He was a good shot, and nomistake."

  By this time Cumberleigh's threatened indisposition had passed away,and when a little later the _Hohenhoorn_ was sighted he hadcompletely regained his sea-legs.

  In answer to an International Code signal the German vessel sloweddown, and finally lost way within a couple of cables' lengths ofMeredith's command.

  "Coming aboard?" inquired Kenneth, as No. 1497 ran alongside thetowering hull of the Hun ship.

  Cumberleigh mentally measured the length of the wire rope ladder thathad been let down from the vessel's bulwarks. Many a time he hadclambered out of the fuselage of a blimp at anything up to fivethousand feet, but the swinging monkey ladder as it flogged the sideof the rolling ship was quite another proposition.

  He was on the point of declining the invitation when, looking up, hecaught sight of a German officer regarding him with a supercilioussmile.

  "Yes, I'm coming," he replied. "But one minute."

  Meredith paused in the act of making a cat-like spring, and steppedback a couple of paces.

  "What is it?" he asked.

  "See that fellow? He's an old acquaintance--von Preussen, to beexact."

  "Never," declared Meredith incredulously. "He wouldn't dare risk it."

  "He has, at any rate," said Cumberleigh. "More, he knows we can'ttouch him. Logically he's on German soil, and in a German vesselthat's been given safe conduct."

  "I suppose you're right," admitted Kenneth regretfully. "All I can dois to report to the S.N.O."

  "That may stop his little game--for he's up to some mischief, I'll bebound," said Cumberleigh. "Right-o, I'l
l follow you!"

  The boarding-party, consisting of Meredith, Cumberleigh, a pettyofficer and two bluejackets, negotiated the ladder with no casualtybeyond a few barked knuckles. Meredith, receiving and returning theGerman captain's salute, asked for the ship's papers.

  "And what is Herr von Preussen doing on board?" he demanded abruptly.

  "It vos mein order," replied the skipper of the _Hohenhoorn_. "DisZherman scheep."

  "Quite," agreed Meredith. "At the same time I warn you that vonPreussen's presence will be reported, and it would be well if herefrained from any activities that will certainly lead to trouble.Now, I'll look under hatches."

  A systematic search of the holds revealed nothing in the nature ofthe cargo beyond what was stated in the official documents.Everything, apparently, was in order.

  "Now I'll see what's aft," declared the boarding officer.

  Again there was nothing to elicit suspicion, but as Kenneth passedalong the main deck he saw something covered by a tarpaulin. Liftingone comer, there was what appeared to be a huge pile of evergreens.

  "What's that for?" he inquired. "It's rather too early forChristmas."

  "Ja, Herr Kapitan," agreed the German. "Dese are for--how you callit?--Ach, I haf it: wreaths. It is a Zherman officer that vos died,an' dese are tribute from der Vaderland."

  "Then he must be deeply lamented," thought Kenneth, as he moved on.Then, filled with well-grounded suspicion, he stopped abruptly.

  "Just shift those things," he ordered, addressing the two members ofthe M.L.'s crew. "It would be well to see if anything's underneath,although Fritz would, I take it, choose a craftier hiding-place."

  The men obeyed, the German officer making no protest. They weregenuine evergreens, and on plucking a leaf Kenneth found that the sapwas still fresh.

  "All right. Put them back and carry on," he ordered.

  Meanwhile, Karl von Preussen--spy, ex-officer of the Prussian Guards,and now wearing a naval uniform--was holding Cumberleigh inconversation.

  "Ah, good morning, Cumberleigh," he exclaimed with all the assurancepossible, and extended his right hand. "Delighted to see you again."

  "For what reason?" asked the R.A.F. captain, ignoring the Hun's hand.

  "It is good to meet old acquaintances," continued the unabashedGerman. "Now the war is over we must be friends, and get back to ourold footing. I, for example, am looking forward to visiting Londonagain, but in a different capacity than on the last occasion."

  "Might I remind you that the war is not yet over," said Cumberleighcoldly.

  "Practically so," protested von Preussen. "So let bygones be bygones.I myself bear you no animosity for knocking me down on Wick pier. Itwas an unfortunate mistake for me to have been there. I ought to haveknown better. But on the other hand I thank you for your excellententertainment at the mess at Auldhaig. The lunch was splendid, but Iam afraid I cannot say the same for your entertainment of me on thefishing expedition. It caused me a considerable amount ofinconvenience."

  "And more to me," added Cumberleigh. "By the by, what are you doingon board?"

  "I am following a temporary post as assistant secretary to Admiralvon Reuter," explained von Preussen without hesitation. "It is mainlyon account of my knowledge of England and the English. I am sorry youare so stand-offish, Captain Cumberleigh. It is hardly the way totreat a man who has worn the same uniform as yourself. Remember me toJefferson, Pyecroft and Blenkinson, also other old acquaintances atAuldhaig, if you should come across them. There is some one else Ishould like to send a message to--a Mr. Entwistle. I believe you havemet him. Well, I see your friend has completed his examination of the_Hohenhoorn_, so we must part. Until our next meeting!"

  "What has that poisonous blighter to say?" inquired Meredith, as theboarding-party returned to the M.L.

  "A lot," replied Cumberleigh. "He's no fool, and in spite of hisassurances I firmly believe he's something up his sleeve. I'd like tohave him in irons as a matter of precaution."

  "Same here," rejoined Meredith. "But it can't be did, you know. He'spinning his faith on the old saying, 'An Englishman's word is hisbond'; and there you are."

  "Precisely," admitted Cumberleigh.