The Riddle of the Sands

by Erskine Childers

  XXIII. A Change of Tactics

  WE pushed off without a word, and paddled out of sight of the beach.A voice was approaching, hailing us. 'Hail back,' whispered Davies;'pretend we're a galliot.'

  'Ho-a,' I shouted, 'where am I?'

  'Off Memmert,' came back. 'Where are you bound?'

  'Delfzyl,' whispered Davies.

  'Delf-zyl,' I bawled.

  A sentence ending with 'anchor' was returned.

  'The flood's tearing east,' whispered Davies; 'sit still.'

  We heard no more, and, after a few minutes' drifting, 'What luck?'said Davies.

  'One or two clues, and an invitation to supper.'

  The clues I left till later; the invitation was the thing, and Iexplained its urgency.

  'How will _they_ get back?' said Davies; 'if the fog lasts thesteamer's sure to be late.'

  'We can count for nothing,' I answered. 'There was some littlesteamboat off the dep?t, and the fog may lift. Which is our quickestway?'

  'At this tide, a bee-line to Norderney by compass; we shall havewater over all the banks.'

  He had all his preparations made, the lamp lit in advance, thecompass in position, and we started at once; he at the bow-oar wherehe had better control over the boat's nose; lamp and compass on thefloor between us. Twilight thickened into darkness--a choking, pastydarkness--and still we sped unfalteringly over that trackless waste,sitting and swinging in our little pool of stifled orange light. Todrown fatigue and suspense I conned over my clues, and tried to carveinto my memory every fugitive word I had overheard.

  'What are there seven of round here?' I called back to Davies once(thinking of A to G). 'Sorry,' I added, for no answer came.

  'I see a star,' was my next word, after a long interval. 'Now it'sgone. There it is again! Right aft!'

  'That's Borkum light,' said Davies, presently; 'the fog's lifting.' Akeen wind from the west struck our faces, and as swiftly as it hadcome the fog rolled away from us, in one mighty mass, stripping cleanand pure the starry dome of heaven, still bright with the westernafter-glow, and beginning to redden in the east to the rising moon.Norderney light was flashing ahead, and Davies could take his tiredeyes from the pool of light.

  'Damn!' was all he uttered in the way of gratitude for this mercy,and I felt very much the same; for in a fog Davies in a dinghy was amatch for a steamer; in a clear he lost his handicap.

  It was a quarter to seven. 'An hour'll do it, if we buck up,' hepronounced, after taking a rough bearing with the two lights. Hepointed out a star to me, which we were to keep exactly astern, andagain I applied to their labour my aching back and smarting palms.

  'What did you say about seven of something?' said Davies.

  'What are there seven of hereabouts?'

  'Islands, of course,' said Davies. 'Is that the clue?'

  'Maybe.'

  Then followed the most singular of all our confabulations. Twomemories are better than one, and the sooner I carved the cipher intohis memory as well as mine the better record we should have. So, withrigid economy of breath, I snapped out all my story, and answered hisbreathless questions. It saved me from being mesmerized by the star,and both of us from the consciousness of over-fatigue.

  'Spying at Chatham, the blackguard?' he hissed.

  'What do you make of it?' I asked.

  'Nothing about battleships, mines, forts?' he said.

  'No.'

  'Nothing about the Ems, Emden, Wilhelmshaven?'

  'No.'

  'Nothing about transports?'

  'No.'

  'I believe--I was right--after all--something to do--with thechannels--behind islands.'

  And so that outworn creed took a new lease of life; though for mypart the words that clashed with it were those that had sunk thedeepest.

  'Esens,' I protested; 'that town behind Bensersiel.'

  'Wassertiefe, Lotsen, Schleppboote,' spluttered Davies.

  'Kilometre--Eisenbahn,' from me, and so on.

  I should earn the just execration of the reader if I continued toreport such a dialogue. Suffice to say that we realized very soonthat the substance of the plot was still a riddle. On the other hand,there was fresh scent, abundance of it; and the question was alreadytaking shape--were we to follow it up or revert to last night'sdecision and strike with what weapons we had? It was a pressingquestion, too, the last of many--was there to be no end to theemergencies of this crowded day?--pressing for reasons I could notdefine, while convinced that we must be ready with an answer bysupper-time to-night.

  Meantime, we were nearing Norderney; the See Gat was crossed, andwith the last of the flood tide fair beneath us, and the red light onthe west pier burning ahead, we began insensibly to relax ourefforts. But I dared not rest, for I was at that point of exhaustionwhen mechanical movement was my only hope.

  'Light astern,' I said, thickly. 'Two--white and red.'

  'Steamer,' said Davies; 'going south though.'

  'Three now.'

  A neat triangle of gems--topaz, ruby, and emerald--hung steady behindus.

  'Turned east,' said Davies. 'Buck up--steamer from Juist. No, byJove! too small. What is it?'

  On we laboured, while the gems waxed in brilliancy as the steameroverhauled us.

  'Easy,' said Davies, 'I seem to know those lights--the _Blitz_'slaunch--don't let's be caught rowing like madmen in a muck sweat.Paddle inshore a bit.' He was right, and, as in a dream, I sawhurrying and palpitating up the same little pinnace that had towed usout of Bensersiel.

  'We're done for now,' I remember thinking, for the guilt of therunaway was strong in me; and an old remark of von Br?ning's about'police' was in my ears. But she was level with and past us before Icould sink far into despair.

  'Three of them behind the hood,' said Davies: 'what are we to do?'

  'Follow,' I answered, and essayed a feeble stroke, but the bladescuttered over the surface.

  'Let's wait about for a bit,' said Davies. 'We're late anyhow. Ifthey go to the yacht they'll think we're ashore.'

  'Our shore clothes--lying about.'

  'Are you up to talking?'

  'No; but we must. The least suspicion'll do for us now.'

  'Give me your scull, old chap, and put on your coat.'

  He extinguished the lantern, lit a pipe, and then rowed slowly on,while I sat on a slack heap in the stern and devoted my lastresources of will to the emancipation of the spirit from the tiredflesh.

  In ten minutes or so we were rounding the pier, and there was theyacht's top-mast against the sky. I saw, too, that the launch wasalongside of her, and told Davies so. Then I lit a cigarette, andmade a lamentable effort to whistle. Davies followed suit, andemitted a strange melody which I took to be 'Home, Sweet Home,' buthe has not the slightest ear for music.

  'Why, they're on board, I believe,' said I; 'the cabin's lighted.Ahoy there!' I shouted as we came up. 'Who's that?'

  'Good evening, sir,' said a sailor, who was fending off the yachtwith a boathook. 'It's Commander von Br?ning's launch. I think thegentlemen want to see you.'

  Before we could answer, an exclamation of: 'Why, here they are!' camefrom the deck of the _Dulcibella_, and the dim form of von Br?ning himselfsemerged from the companionway. There was something of a scuffledown below, which the Commander nearly succeeded in drowning by thebreeziness of his greeting. Meanwhile, the ladder creaked under freshweight, and Dollmann appeared.

  'Is that you, Herr Davies?' he said.

  'Hullo! Herr Dollmann,' said Davies; 'how are you?'

  I must explain that we had floated up between the yacht and thelaunch, whose sailors had passed her a little aside in order to giveus room. Her starboard side-light was just behind and above us,pouring its green rays obliquely over the deck of the _Dulcibella_,while we and the dinghy were in deep shadow between. The most studiedcalculation could not have secured us more favourable conditions fora moment which I had always dreaded--the meeting of Davies andDollmann. The former, having shortened his sculls, just sat where he
was, half turned towards the yacht and looking up at his enemy. Nolineament of his own face could have been visible to the latter,while those pitiless green rays--you know their ravaging effect onthe human physiognomy--struck full on Dollmann's face. It was myfirst fair view of it at close quarters, and, secure in my backgroundof gloom, I feasted with a luxury of superstitious abhorrence on thelivid smiling mask that for a few moments stooped peering downtowards Davies. One of the caprices of the crude light was toobliterate, or at any rate so penetrate, beard and moustache, as toreveal in outline lips and chin, the features in which defects ofcharacter are most surely betrayed, especially when your victimsmiles. Accuse me, if you will, of stooping to melodramaticembroidery; object that my own prejudiced fancy contributed to theresult; but I can, nevertheless, never efface the impression ofmalignant perfidy and base passion, exaggerated to caricature, thatI received in those few instants. Another caprice of the light was toidentify the man with the portrait of him when younger andclean-shaven, in the frontispiece of his own book; and another still,the most repulsively whimsical of all, was to call forth a strongresemblance to the sweet young girl who had been with us yesterday.

  Enough! I shall never offend again in this way. In reality I am muchmore inclined to laugh than shudder over this meeting; for meanwhilethe third of our self-invited guests had with stertorous puffingrisen to the stage, for all the world like a demon out of atrapdoor, specially when he entered the zone of that unearthlylight. And there they stood in a row, like delinquents at judgement,while we, the true culprits, had only passively to acceptexplanations. Of course these were plausible enough. Dollmann havingseen the yacht in port that morning had called on his return fromMemmert to ask us to supper. Finding no one aboard, and concluding wewere ashore, he had meant to leave a note for Davies in the cabin.His friend, Herr B?hme, _'the distinguished engineer,'_ was anxiousto see over the little vessel that had come so far, and he knew thatDavies would not mind the intrusion. Not at all, said Davies; wouldnot they stop and have drinks? No, but would we come to supper atDollmann's villa? With pleasure, said Davies, but we had to changefirst. Up to this point we had been masters of the situation; buthere von Br?ning, who alone of the three appeared to be entirely athis ease, made the _retour offensif_.

  'Where have you been?' he asked.

  'Oh, rowing about since the fog cleared,' said Davies.

  I suppose he thought that evasion would pass muster, but as he spoke,I noticed to my horror that a stray beam of light was playing on thebunch of white cotton-waste that adorned one of the rowlocks: for wehad forgotten to remove these tell-tale appendages. So I added:

  'After ducks again'; and, lifting one of the guns, let the lightflash on its barrel. To my own ears my voice sounded husky anddistant.

  'Always ducks,' laughed von Br?ning. 'No luck, I suppose?'

  'No,' said Davies; 'but it ought to be a good time after sunset----'

  'What, with a rising tide and the banks covered?'

  'We saw some,' said Davies, sullenly.

  'I tell you what, my zealous young sportsmen, you're rash to leaveyour boat at anchor here after dark without a light. I came aboard tofind your lamp and set it.'

  'Oh, thanks,' said Davies; 'we took it with us.'

  'To see to shoot by?'

  We laughed uncomfortably, and Davies compassed a wonderful Germanphrase to the effect that 'it might come in useful'. Happily thematter went no farther, for the position was a strained one at thebest, and would not bear lengthening. The launch went alongside, andthe invaders evacuated British soil, looking, for all von Br?ning'sflippant nonchalance, a rather crestfallen party. So much so, that,acute as was my anxiety, I took courage to whisper to Davies, whilethe transhipment of Herr B?hme was proceeding: 'Ask Dollmann to staywhile we dress.'

  'Why?' he whispered.

  'Go on.'

  'I say, Herr Dollmann,' said Davies, 'won't you stay on board with uswhile we dress? There's a lot to tell you, and--and we can follow onwith you when we're ready.'

  Dollmann had not yet stepped into the launch. 'With pleasure,' hesaid; but there followed an ominous silence, broken by von Br?ning.

  'Oh, come along, Dollmann, and let them alone,' he said brusquely.'You'll be horribly in the way down there, and we shall never get anysupper if you keep them yarning.'

  'And it's now a quarter-past eight o'clock,' grumbled Herr B?hme fromhis corner behind the hood. Dollmann submitted, and excused himself,and the launch steamed away.

  'I think I twig,' said Davies, as he helped, almost hoisted, meaboard. 'Rather risky though--eh?'

  'I knew they'd object--only wanted to make sure.'

  The cabin was just as we had left it, our shore clothes lying indisorder on the bunks, a locker or two half open.

  'Well, I wonder what they did down here,' said Davies.

  For my part I went straight to the bookshelf.

  'Does anything strike you about this?' I asked, kneeling on the sofa.

  'Logbook's shifted,' said Davies. 'I'll swear it was at the endbefore.'

  'That doesn't matter. Anything else?'

  'By Jove!--where's Dollmann's book?'

  'It's here all right, but not where it should be.' I had been readingit, you remember, overnight, and in the morning had replaced it infull view among the other books. I now found it behind them, in awrenched attitude, which showed that someone who had no time to sparehad pushed it roughly inwards.

  'What do you make of that?' said Davies.

  He produced long drinks, and we allowed ourselves ten minutes ofabsolute rest, stretched at full length on the sofas.

  'They don't trust Dollmann,' I said. 'I spotted that at Memmerteven.'

  'How?'

  'First, when they were talking about you and me. He was on hisdefence, and in a deuce of a funk, too. B?hme was pressing him hard.Again, at the end, when he left the room followed by Grimm, who I'mcertain was sent to watch him. It was while he was away that theother two arranged that rendezvous for the night of the _25th._ Andagain just now, when you asked him to stay. I believe it's workingout as I thought it would. Von Br?ning, and through him B?hme (who isthe 'engineer from Bremen'), know the story of that short cut andsuspect that it was an attempt on your life. Dollmann daren't confessto that, because, morality apart, it could only have been prompted byextreme necessity--that is, by the knowledge that you were reallydangerous, and not merely an inquisitive stranger. Now _we_ know hismotive; but they don't yet. The position of that book proves it.'

  'He shoved it in?'

  'To prevent them seeing it. There's no earthly reason why _they_should have hidden it.'

  'Then we're getting on,' said Davies. 'That shows they know his realname, or why should he shove the book in? But they don't know hewrote a book, and that I have a copy.'

  'At any rate he _thinks_ they don't; we can't say more than that.'

  'And what does he think about me--and you?'

  'That's the point. Ten to one he's in tortures of doubt, and wouldgive a fortune to have five minutes' talk alone with you to see howthe land lies and get your version of the short cut incident. Butthey won't let him. They want to watch him in our company and us inhis; you see it's an interesting reunion for you and him.'

  'Well, let's get into these beastly clothes for it,' groaned Davis.'I shall have a plunge overboard.'

  Something drastic was required, and I followed his example, curiousas the hour was for bathing.

  'I believe I know what happened just now,' said I, as we plied roughtowels in the warmth below. 'They steamed up and found nobody onboard. "I'll leave a note," says Dollmann. "No independentcommunications," say they (or think they), "we'll come too, and takethe chance of inspecting this hornets' nest." Down they go, andDollmann, who knows what to look for first, sees that damning bit ofevidence staring him in the face. They look casually at the shelfamong other things--examine the logbook, say--and he manages to pushhis own book out of sight. But he couldn't replace it when theinterruption came. The action would h
ave attracted attention _then,_and B?hme made him leave the cabin in advance, you know.'

  'This is all very well,' said Davies, pausing in his toilet, 'but dothey guess how we've spent the day? By Jove, Carruthers, that chartwith the square cut out; there it is on the rack!'

  'We must chance it, and bluff for all we're worth,' I said. The factwas that Davies could not be brought to realize that he had doneanything very remarkable that day; yet those fourteen sinuous milestraversed blindfold, to say nothing of the return journey and my ownexploits, made up an achievement audacious and improbable enough toout-distance suspicion. Nevertheless, von Br?ning's banter had beendisquieting, and if an inkling of our expedition had crossed his mindor theirs, there were ways of testing us which it would require allour effrontery to defeat.

  'What are you looking for?' said Davies. I was at the collar and studstage, but had broken off to study the time-table which we had boughtthat morning.

  'Somebody insists on coming by the night train to somewhere, on the_25th_,' I reminded him. 'B?hme, von Br?ning, and Grimm are to meetthe Somebody.'

  'Where?'

  'At a railway station! I don't know where. They seemed to take it forgranted. But it must be somewhere on the sea, because B?hme said,"the tide serves."'

  'It may be anywhere from Emden to Hamburg.' _[See Map B]_

  'No, there's a limit; it's probably somewhere near. Grimm was tocome, and he's at Memmert.'

  'Here's the map... Emden and Norddeich are the only coast stationstill you get to Wilhelmshaven--no, to Carolinensiel; but those are along way east.'

  'And Emden's a long way south. Say Norddeich then; but according tothis there's no train there after _6.15_ p.m.; that's hardly "night".When's high tide on the 25th?'

  'Let's see--8.30 here to-night--Norddeich'll be the same. Somewherebetween 10.30 and 11 on the 25th.'

  'There's a train at Emden at 9.22 from Leer and the south, and one at10.50 from the north.'

  'Are you counting on another fog?' said Davies, mockingly.

  'No; but I want to know what our plans are.'

  'Can't we wait till this cursed inspection's over?'

  'No, we can't; we should come to grief.' This was no barren truism,for I was ready with a plan of my own, though reluctant to broach itto Davies.

  Meanwhile, ready or not, we had to start. The cabin we left as itwas, changing nothing and hiding nothing; the safest course to take,we thought, in spite of the risk of further search. But, as usual, Itransferred my diary to my breast-pocket, and made sure that the twoofficial letters from England were safe in a compartment of it.

  'What do you propose?' I asked, when we were in the dinghy again.

  'It's a case of "as you were",' said Davies. 'To-day's trip was achance we shall never get again. We must go back to last night'sdecision--tell them that we're going to stay on here for a bit.Shooting, I suppose we shall have to say.'

  'And courting?' I suggested.

  'Well, they know all about that. And then we must watch for a chanceof tackling Dollmann privately. Not to-night, because we want time toconsider those clues of yours.'

  '"Consider"?' I said: 'that's putting it mildly.'

  We were at the ladder, and what a languid stiffness oppressed me Idid not know till I touched its freezing rungs, each one of whichseared my sore palms like red-hot iron.

  The overdue steamer was just arriving as we set foot on the quay.'And yet, by Jove! why not to-night?' pursued Davies, beginning tostride up the pier at a pace I could not imitate.

  'Steady on,' I protested; 'and, look here, I disagree altogether. Ibelieve to-day has doubled our chances, but unless we alter ourtactics it has doubled our risks. We've involved ourselves in tootangled a web. I don't like this inspection, and I fear that foxy oldB?hme who prompted it. The mere fact of their inviting us shows thatwe stand badly; for it runs in the teeth of Br?ning's warning atBensersiel, and smells uncommonly like arrest. There's a rift betweenDollmann and the others, but it's a ticklish matter to drive ourwedge in; as to _to-night,_ hopeless; they're on the watch, and won'tgive us a chance. And after all, do we know enough? We don't know whyhe fled from England and turned German. It may have been anextraditable crime, but it may not. Supposing he defies us? There'sthe girl, you see--she ties our hands, and if he once gets wind ofthat, and trades on our weakness, the game's up.'

  'What are you driving at?'

  'We want to detach him from Germany, but he'll probably go to anylengths rather than abandon his position here. His attempt on you isthe measure of his interest in it. Now, is to-day to be wasted?' Wewere passing through the public gardens, and I dropped on to a seatfor a moment's rest, crackling dead leaves under me. Davies remainedstanding, and pecked at the gravel with his toe.

  'We have got two valuable clues,' I went on; 'that rendezvous on the25th is one, and the name Esens is the other. We may consider them toeternity; I vote we act on them.'

  'How?' said Davies. 'We're under a searchlight here; and if we'recaught----'

  'Your plan--ugh!--it's as risky as mine, and more so,' I replied,rising with a jerk, for a spasm of cramp took me. 'We must separate,'I added, as we walked on. 'We want, at one stroke, to prove to themthat we're harmless, and to get a fresh start. I go back to London.'

  'To London!' said Davies. We were passing under an arc lamp, and, forthe dismay his face showed, I might have said Kamchatka.

  'Well, after all, it's where I ought to be at this moment,' Iobserved.

  'Yes, I forgot. And me?'

  'You can't get on without me, so you lay up the yacht here--takingyour time.'

  'While you?'

  'After making inquiries about Dollmann's past I double back assomebody else, and follow up the clues.'

  'You'll have to be quick,' said Davies, abstractedly.

  'I can just do it in time for the 25th.'

  'When you say "making inquiries",' he continued, looking straightbefore him, 'I hope you don't mean setting other people on histrack?'

  'He's fair game!' I could not help saying; for there were momentswhen I chafed under this scrupulous fidelity to our self-denyingordinance.

  'He's our game, or nobody's,' said Davies, sharply.

  'Oh, I'll keep the secret,' I rejoined.

  'Let's stick together,' he broke out. 'I shall make a muck of itwithout you. And how are we to communicate--meet?'

  'Somehow--that can wait. I know it's a leap in the dark, but there'ssafety in darkness.'

  'Carruthers! what are we talking about? If they have the ghost of anotion where we have been to-day, you give us away by packing off toLondon. They'll think we know their secret and are clearing out tomake use of it. _That_ means arrest, if you like!'

  'Pessimist! Haven't I written proof of good faith in mypocket--official letters of recall, received to-day? It's onedeception the less, you see; for those letters _may_ have beenopened; skilfully done it's impossible to detect. When in doubt, tellthe truth!'

  'It's a rum thing how often it pays in this spying business,' saidDavies thoughtfully.

  We had been tramping through deserted streets under the glare ofelectricity, I with my leaden shuffle, he with the purposeful forwardstoop and swinging arms that always marked his gait ashore.

  'Well, what's it to be?' I said. 'Here's the Schwannall?e.'

  'I don't like it,' said he; 'but I trust your judgement.'

  We turned slowly down, running over a few last points where prioragreement was essential. As we stood at the very gate of the villa:'Don't commit yourself to dates,' I said; 'say nothing that willprevent you from being here at least a week hence with the yachtstill afloat.' And my final word, as we waited at the door for thebell to be answered, was: 'Don't mind what _I_ say. If things lookqueer we may have to lighten the ship.'

  'Lighten?' whispered Davies; 'oh, I hope I shan't bosh it.'

  'I hope I shan't get cramp,' I muttered between my teeth.

  It will be remembered that Davies had never been to the villa before.