The Riddle of the Sands

by Erskine Childers

  XXII. The Quartette

  HIS _tour de force_ was achieved, and for the moment something likecollapse set in.

  'What in the world have we come here for?' he muttered; 'I feel a bitgiddy.'

  I made him drink some whisky, which revived him; and then, speakingin whispers, we settled certain points.

  I alone was to land. Davies demurred to this out of loyalty, butcommon sense, coinciding with a strong aversion of his own, settledthe matter. Two were more liable to detection than one. I spoke thelanguage well, and if challenged could cover my retreat with a gruffword or two; in my woollen overalls, sea-boots, oilskin coat, with asou'-wester pulled well over my eyes, I should pass in a fog for aFrisian. Davies must mind the dinghy; but how was I to regain it? Ihoped to do so without help, by using the edge of the sand; but if heheard a long whistle he was to blow the foghorn.

  'Take the pocket-compass,' he said. 'Never budge from the shorewithout using it, and lay it on the ground for steadiness. Take thisscrap of chart, too--it may come in useful; but you can't miss thedep?t, it looks to be close to the shore. How long will you be'?'

  'How long have I got'?'

  'The young flood's making--has been for nearly an hour--that bank (hemeasured it with his eye) will be covering in an hour and a half.'

  'That ought to be enough.'

  'Don't run it too fine. It's steep here, but it may shelve fartheron. If you have to wade you'll never find me, and you'll make a deuceof a row. Got your watch, matches, knife? No knife? Take mine; nevergo anywhere without a knife.' (It was his seaman's idea ofefficiency.)

  'Wait a bit, we must settle a place to meet at in case I'm late andcan't reach you here.'

  '_Don't_ be late. We've got to get back to the yacht before we'remissed.'

  'But I may have to hide and wait till dark--the fog may clear.'

  'We were fools to come, I believe,' said Davies, gloomily. 'There_are_ no meeting-places in a place like this. Here's the best I cansee on the chart--a big triangular beacon marked on the very point ofMemmert. You'll pass it.'

  'All right. I'm off.'

  'Good luck,' said Davies, faintly.

  I stepped out, climbed a miry glacis of five or six feet, reachedhard wet sand, and strode away with the sluggish ripple of the Baljeon my left hand. A curtain dropped between me and Davies, and I wasalone--alone, but how I thrilled to feel the firm sand rustle undermy boots; to know that it led to dry land, where, whatever befell, Icould give my wits full play. I clove the fog briskly.

  Good Heavens! what was that? I stopped short and listened. From overthe water on my left there rang out, dulled by fog, but distinct tothe ear, three double strokes on a bell or gong. I looked at mywatch.

  'Ship at anchor,' I said to myself. 'Six bells in the afternoonwatch.' I knew the Balje was here a deep roadstead, where a vesselentering the Eastern Ems might very well anchor to ride out a fog.

  I was just stepping forward when another sound followed from the samequarter, a bugle-call this time. Then I understood--only men-of-warsound bugles--the _Blitz_ was here then; and very natural, too, Ithought, and strode on. The sand was growing drier, the water fartherbeneath me; then came a thin black ribbon of weed--high-water mark. Afew cautious steps to the right and I touched tufts of marram grass.It was Memmert. I pulled out the chart and refreshed my memory. No!there could be no mistake; keep the sea on my left and I must goright. I followed the ribbon of weed, keeping it just in view, butwalking on the verge of the grass for the sake of silence. All atonce I almost tripped over a massive iron bar; others, a rustynetwork of them, grew into being above and around me, like the armsof a ghostly polyp.

  'What infernal spider's web is this?' I thought, and stumbled clear.I had strayed into the base of a gigantic tripod, its gaunt legsstayed and cross-stayed, its apex lost in fog; the beacon, Iremembered. A hundred yards farther and I was down on my knees again,listening with might and main; for several little sounds were in theair--voices, the rasp of a boat's keel, the whistling of a tune.These were straight ahead. More to the left, seaward, that is, I hadaural evidence of the presence of a steamboat--a small one, for thehiss of escaping steam was low down. On my right front I as yet heardnothing, but the dep?t must be there.

  I prepared to strike away from my base, and laid the compass on theground--NW. roughly I made the course. ('South-east--south-east forcoming back,' I repeated inwardly, like a child learning a lesson.)Then of my two allies I abandoned one, the beach, and threw myselfwholly on the fog.

  'Play the game,' I said to myself. 'Nobody expects you; nobody willrecognize you.'

  I advanced in rapid stages of ten yards or so, while grassdisappeared and soft sand took its place, pitted everywhere withfootmarks. I trod carefully, for obstructions began to showthemselves--an anchor, a heap of rusty cable; then a boat bottomupwards, and, lying on it, a foul old meerschaum pipe. I paused hereand strained my ears, for there were sounds in many directions; thesame whistling (behind me now), heavy footsteps in front, andsomewhere beyond--fifty yards away, I reckoned--a buzz of gutturalconversation; from the same quarter there drifted to my nostrils theacrid odour of coarse tobacco. Then a door banged.

  I put the compass in my pocket (thinking 'south-east, south-east'),placed the pipe between my teeth (ugh! the rank savour of it!) rammedmy sou'-wester hard down, and slouched on in the direction of thedoor that had banged. A voice in front called, 'Karl Schicker'; anearer voice, that of the man whose footsteps I had heardapproaching, took it up and called 'Karl Schicker': I, too, took itup, and, turning my back, called 'Karl Schicker' as gruffly andgutturally as I could. The footsteps passed quite close to me, andglancing over my shoulder I saw a young man passing, dressed verylike me, but wearing a sealskin cap instead of a sou'-wester. As hewalked he seemed to be counting coins in his palm. A hail came backfrom the beach and the whistling stopped.

  I now became aware that I was on a beaten track. These meetings werehazardous, so I inclined aside, but not without misgivings, for thepath led towards the buzz of talk and the banging door, and thesewere my only guides to the dep?t. Suddenly, and much before Iexpected it, I knew rather than saw that a wall was in front of me;now it was visible, the side of a low building of corrugated iron. Apause to reconnoitre was absolutely necessary; but the knot oftalkers might have heard my footsteps, and I must at all costs notsuggest the groping of a stranger. I lit a match--two--and suckedheavily (as I had seen navvies do) at my pipe, studying the trend ofthe wall by reference to the sounds. There was a stale dottle wedgedin the bowl, and loathsome fumes resulted. Just then the same doorbanged again; another name, which I forget, was called out. I decidedthat I was at the end of a rectangular building which I pictured aslike an Aldershot 'hut', and that the door I heard was round thecorner to my left. A knot of men must be gathered there, entering itby turns. Having expectorated noisily, I followed the tin wall to my_right,_ and turning a corner strolled leisurely on, passing signs ofdomesticity, a washtub, a water-butt, then a tiled approach to anopen door. I now was aware of the corner of a second building, alsoof zinc, parallel to the first, but taller, for I could only just seethe eave. I was just going to turn off to this as a more promisingfield for exploration, when I heard a window open ahead of me in myoriginal building.

  I am afraid I am getting obscure, so I append a rough sketch of thescene, as I partly saw and chiefly imagined it. It was window (A)that I heard open. From it I could just distinguish through the fog ahand protrude, and throw something out--cigar-end? The hand, a cleanone with a gold signet ring, rested for an instant afterwards on thesash, and then closed the window.

  Sketch--Memmert Salvage Depot.}

  My geography was clear now in one respect. That window belonged tothe same room as the banging door (B); for I distinctly heard thelatter open and shut again, opposite me on the other side of thebuilding. It struck me that it might be interesting to see into thatroom. 'Play the game,' I reminded myself, and retreated a few yardsback on tiptoe, then turned and sauntered coolly past the
window,puffing my villainous pipe and taking a long deliberate look into theinterior as I passed--the more deliberate that at the first instantI realized that nobody inside was disturbing himself about me. As Ihad expected (in view of the fog and the time) there was artificiallight within. My mental photograph was as follows: a small room withvarnished deal walls and furnished like an office; in the farright-hand corner a counting-house desk, Grimm sitting at it on ahigh stool, side-face to me, counting money; opposite him in anawkward attitude a burly fellow in seaman's dress holding a diver'shelmet. In the middle of the room a deal table, and on it somethingbig and black. Lolling on chairs near it, their backs to me and theirfaces turned towards the desk and the diver, two men--von Br?ning andan older man with a bald yellow head (Dollmann's companion on thesteamer, beyond a doubt). On another chair, with its back actuallytilted against the window, Dollmann.

  Such were the principal features of the scene; for details I had tomake another inspection. Stooping low, I crept back, quiet as a cat,till I was beneath the window, and, as I calculated, directly behindDollmann's chair. Then with great caution I raised my head. There wasonly one pair of eyes in the room that I feared in the least, andthat was Grimm's, who sat in profile to me, farthest away. Iinstantly put Dollmann's back between Grimm and me, and then made myscrutiny. As I made it, I could feel a cold sweat distilling on myforehead and tickling my spine; not from fear or excitement, but frompure ignominy. For beyond all doubt I was present at the meeting of a_bona-fide_ salvage company. It was pay-day, and the directorsappeared to be taking stock of work done; that was all.

  Over the door was an old engraving of a two-decker under full sail;pinned on the wall a chart and the plan of a ship. Relics of thewrecked frigate abounded. On a shelf above the stove was a smallpyramid of encrusted cannon-balls, and supported on nails at oddplaces on the walls were corroded old pistols, and what I took to bethe remains of a sextant. In a corner of the floor sat a hoary littlecarronade, carriage and all. None of these things affected me so muchas a pile of lumber on the floor, not firewood but unmistakablewreck-wood, black as bog-oak, still caked in places with the mud ofages. Nor was it the mere sight of this lumber that dumbfounded me.It was the fact that a fragment of it, a balk of curved timbergarnished with some massive bolts, lay on the table, and wasevidently an object of earnest interest. The diver had turned and wasarguing with gestures over it; von Br?ning and Grimm were pressinganother view. The diver shook his head frequently, finally shruggedhis shoulders, made a salutation, and left the room. Their movementshad kept me ducking my head pretty frequently, but I now grew almostreckless as to whether I was seen or not. All the weaknesses of mytheory crowded on me--the arguments Davies had used at Bensersiel;Fr?ulein Dollmann's thoughtless talk; the ease (comparatively) withwhich I had reached this spot, not a barrier to cross or a lock toforce; the publicity of their passage to Memmert by Dollmann, hisfriend, and Grimm; and now this glimpse of business-like routine. Ina few moments I sank from depth to depth of scepticism. Where were mymines, torpedoes, and submarine boats, and where my imperialconspirators? Was gold after all at the bottom of this sordidmystery? Dollmann after all a commonplace criminal? The ladder ofproof I had mounted tottered and shook beneath me. 'Don't be a fool,'said the faint voice of reason. 'There are your four men. Wait.'

  Two more _employ?s_ came into the room in quick succession andreceived wages; one looking like a fireman, the other of a superiortype, the skipper of a tug, say. There was another discussion withthis latter over the balk of wreck-wood, and this man, too, shruggedhis shoulders. His departure appeared to end the meeting. Grimm shutup a ledger, and I shrank down on my knees, for a general shifting ofchairs began. At the same time, from the other side of the building,I heard my knot of men retreating beachwards, spitting and chattingas they went. Presently someone walked across the room towards mywindow. I sidled away on all fours, rose and flattened myself erectagainst the wall, a sickening despondency on me; my intention toslink away south-east as soon as the coast was clear. But the soundthat came next pricked me like an electric shock; it was the tinkleand scrape of curtain-rings.

  Quick as thought I was back in my old position, to find my viewbarred by a cretonne curtain. It was in one piece, with no chink formy benefit, but it did not hang straight, bulging towards me underthe pressure of something--human shoulders by the shape. Dollmann, Iconcluded, was still in his old place. I now was exasperated to findthat I could scarcely hear a word that was said, not even by pressingmy ear against the glass. It was not that the speakers were of setpurpose hushing their voices--they used an ordinary tone for intimatediscussion--but the glass and curtain deadened the actual words.Still, I was soon able to distinguish general characteristics. VonBr?ning's voice--the only one I had ever heard before--I recognizedat once; he was on the left of the table, and Dollmann's I knew fromhis position. The third was a harsh croak, belonging to the oldgentleman whom, for convenience, I shall prematurely begin to callHerr B?hme. It was too old a voice to be Grimm's; besides, it had thering of authority, and was dealing at the moment in sharpinterrogations. Three of its sentences I caught in their entirety.'When was that?' 'They went no farther?' and 'Too long; out of thequestion.' Dollmann's voice, though nearest to me, was the leastaudible of all. It was a dogged monotone, and what was that oddmovement of the curtain at his back? Yes, his hands were behind himclutching and kneading a fold of the cretonne. 'You are feelinguncomfortable, my friend,' was my comment. Suddenly he threw back hishead--I saw the dent of it--and spoke up so that I could not miss aword. 'Very well, sir, you shall see them at supper to-night; I willask them both.'

  (You will not be surprised to learn that I instantly looked at mywatch--though it takes long to write what I have described--but thetime was only a quarter to four.) He added something about the fog,and his chair creaked. Ducking promptly I heard the curtain-ringsjar, and: 'Thick as ever.'

  'Your report, Herr Dollmann,' said B?hme, curtly. Dollmann left thewindow and moved his chair up to the table; the other two drew intheirs and settled themselves.

  '_Chatham,_' said Dollmann, as if announcing a heading. It was an easyword to catch, rapped out sharp, and you can imagine how it startledme. 'That's where you've been for the last month!' I said to myself.A map crackled and I knew they were bending over it, while Dollmannexplained something. But now my exasperation became acute, for not asyllable more reached me. Squatting back on my heels, I cast aboutfor expedients. Should I steal round and try the door? Too dangerous.Climb to the roof and listen down the stove-pipe? Too noisy, andgenerally hopeless. I tried for a downward purchase on the upper halfof the window, which was of the simple sort in two sections, workingvertically. No use; it resisted gentle pressure, would start with asudden jar if I forced it. I pulled out Davies's knife and worked thepoint of the blade between sash and frame to give it play--no result;but the knife was a nautical one, with a marlin-spike as well as abig blade.

  Just now the door within opened and shut again, and I heard stepsapproaching round the corner to my right. I had the presence of mindnot to lose a moment, but moved silently away (blessing the deepFrisian sand) round the corner of the big parallel building. Someonewhom I could not see walked past till his boots clattered on tiles,next resounded on boards. 'Grimm in his living-room,' I inferred. Theprecious minutes ebbed away--five, ten, fifteen. Had he gone forgood? I dared not return otherwise. Eighteen--he was coming out! Thistime I stole forward boldly when the man had just passed, dimly saw afigure, and clearly enough the glint of a white paper he was holding.He made his circuit and re-entered the room.

  Here I felt and conquered a relapse to scepticism. 'If this is animportant conclave why don't they set guards?' Answer, the onlypossible one, 'Because they stand alone. Their _employ?s,_ like_everyone_ we had met hitherto, know nothing. The real object of thissalvage company (a poor speculation, I opined) is solely to afford apretext for the conclave.' 'Why the curtain, even?' 'Because thereare maps, stupid!'

  I was back again at the window, but
as impotent as ever against thateven stream of low confidential talk. But I would not give up. Fateand the fog had brought me here, the one solitary soul perhaps who bythe chain of circumstances had both the will and the opportunity towrest their secret from these four men.

  The marlin-spike! Where the lower half of the window met the sill itsank into a shallow groove. I thrust the point of the spike down intothe interstice between sash and frame and heaved with a slowlyincreasing force, which I could regulate to the fraction of an ounce,on this powerful lever. The sash gave, with the faintest possibleprotest, and by imperceptible degrees I lifted it to the top of thegroove, and the least bit above it, say half an inch in all; but itmade an appreciable difference to the sounds within, as when youremove your foot from a piano's soft pedal. I could do no more, forthere was no further fulcrum for the spike, and I dared not gambleaway what I had won by using my hands.

  Hope sank again when I placed my cheek on the damp sill, and my earto the chink. My men were close round the table referring to paperswhich I heard rustle. Dollmann's 'report' was evidently over, and Irarely heard his voice; Grimm's occasionally, von Br?ning's andB?hme's frequently; but, as before, it was the latter only that Icould ever count on for an intelligible word. For, unfortunately, thevillains of the piece plotted without any regard to dramatic fitnessor to my interests. Immersed in a subject with which they were allfamiliar, they were allusive, elliptic, and persistently technical.Many of the words I did catch were unknown to me. The rest were, forthe most part, either letters of the alphabet or statistical figures,of depth, distance, and, once or twice, of time. The letters of thealphabet recurred often, and seemed, as far as I could make out, torepresent the key to the cipher. The numbers clustering round themwere mostly very small, with decimals. What maddened me most was thescarcity of plain nouns.

  To report what I heard to the reader would be impossible; so chaoticwas most of it that it left no impression on my own memory. All I cando is to tell him what fragments stuck, and what nebulousclassification I involved. The letters ran from A to G, and my bestcontinuous chance came when B?hme, reading rapidly from a paper, Ithink, went through the letters, backwards, from G, adding remarks toeach; thus: 'G. . . completed.' 'F. . . bad. . . 1.3 (metres?). . .2.5(kilometres?).' 'E . . . thirty-two. . . 1.2.' 'D. . . 3 weeks. . .thirty.' 'C. . .' and so on.

  Another time he went through this list again, only naming each letterhimself, and receiving laconic answers from Grimm--answers which seemedto be numbers, but I could not be sure. For minutes together I caughtnothing but the scratching of pens and inarticulate mutterings. But outof the muck-heap I picked five pearls--four sibilant nouns and a namethat I knew before. The nouns were 'Schleppboote' (tugs); 'Wassertiefe'(depth of water); 'Eisenbahn' (railway); 'Lotsen' (pilots). The name,also sibilant and thus easier to hear, was 'Esens'.

  Two or three times I had to stand back and ease my cramped neck, andon each occasion I looked at my watch, for I was listening againsttime, just as we had rowed against time. We were going to be asked tosupper, and must be back aboard the yacht in time to receive theinvitation. The fog still brooded heavily and the light, always bad,was growing worse. How would _they_ get back? How had they come fromJuist? Could we forestall them? Questions of time, tide,distance--just the odious sort of sums I was unfit to cope with--weredistracting my attention when it should have been wholly elsewhere.4.20--4.25--now it was past 4.30 when Davies said the bank wouldcover. I should have to make for the beacon; but it was fatally nearthat steamboat path, etc., and I still at intervals heard voices fromthere. It must have been about 4.35 when there was another shiftingof chairs within. Then someone rose, collected papers, and went out;someone else, _without_ rising (therefore Grimm), followed him.

  There was silence in the room for a minute, and after that, for thefirst time, I heard some plain colloquial German, with noaccompaniment of scratching or rustling. 'I must wait for this,' Ithought, and waited.

  'He insists on coming,' said B?hme.

  'Ach!' (an ejaculation of surprise and protest from von Br?ning).

  'I said the _25th_.'

  'Why?'

  'The tide serves well. The night-train, of course. Tell Grimm to beready----' (An inaudible question from von Br?ning.)

  'No, any weather.' A laugh from von Br?ning and some words I could notcatch.

  'Only one, with half a load.'

  '. . .meet?'

  'At the station.'

  'So--how's the fog?'

  This appeared to be really the end. Both men rose and steps cametowards the window. I leapt aside as I heard it thrown up, andcovered by the noise backed into safety. Von Br?ning called 'Grimm!'and that, and the open window, decided me that my line of advance wasnow too dangerous to retreat by. The only alternative was to make acircuit round the bigger of the two buildings--and an interminablecircuit it seemed--and all the while I knew my compass-course'south-east' was growing nugatory. I passed a padlocked door, twocorners, and faced the void of fog. Out came the compass, and Isteadied myself for the sum. 'South-east before--I'm farther to theeastward now--east will about do'; and off I went, with an error offour whole points, over tussocks and deep sand. The beach seemed muchfarther off than I had thought, and I began to get alarmed, puzzledover the compass several times, and finally realized that I had lostmy way. I had the sense not to make matters worse by trying to findit again, and, as the lesser of two evils, blew my whistle, softly atfirst, then louder. The bray of a foghorn sounded right _behind_ me.I whistled again and then ran for my life, the horn sounding atintervals. In three or four minutes I was on the beach and in thedinghy.