The Mystery Ship 20

The Mystery Ship 20

"Can you oblige me with a match, old bean?"

 

The old bean complied without a word.

 

The next question came with startling suddenness:

 

"'Spose you haven't come across Captain Fennelburt?"

 

The spy, controlling himself with an effort, turned his head and

laughed.

 

"Hope you don't think I'm the fellow?" he inquired. "If, so, you

won't get that hundred pounds, old son. I heard this morning that he

had been collared at Perth."

 

"Is that so?" asked the other, a subaltern. "What was all the racket

about?"

 

"Misappropriation of mess funds, I believe," replied von Preussen. He

now felt more at ease and master of the situation. He forced the

conversation on trivial topics until his undesirable acquaintances

reached their destination.

 

The spy remained until the car stopped at the terminus; then he

started to walk briskly inland, reproving himself for his bad

manoeuvre in taking a car bound for a coast town.

 

A four hours' stiff walk brought him to a desolate moor, standing

well on eight hundred feet above the sea. Sheltering from possible

observation behind an overhanging rock, he made the necessary change

from Captain Broadstone, R.A.F., to plain Thomas Smith, commercial

traveller, representing Collar & Grab, wholesale provision merchants

(and incidentally profiteers), of Liverpool.

 

For the next four days he remained at Galashiels, lying low and

explaining his presence by the plausible statement that the samples

his firm had dispatched had gone astray. On the fifth he decided to

go to York, where he knew of a Polish Jew, Polinski by name, who was

in reality a German Secret Service agent.

 

At Newcastle he caught a fast train bound for London. He now

travelled third class, finding himself in the company of four

bluejackets proceeding "on leave."

 

Within a few minutes of the train leaving the station the commercial

traveller was apparently fast asleep. He was keenly on the alert to

gather information, and his wishes were realised.

 

"S'elp me," exclaimed one of the men. "We'd got a blanked U-boat

blazing away at us like mad. 'Course we didn't reply, an' they didn't

'arf give us a dustin'. Then up comes another of the swine an' starts

firin', only 'er shells goes wide. Still our owner sticks it without

so much as winkin'. Hopin', you see, to bag 'em both."

 

"And did 'e?" inquired another.

 

"Not 'e, worse luck," replied the other. "Just as we was about ter

drop our false bulwarks an' give 'em perishin' socks, one of the

U-boats slipped in a couple o' tawpedas into t'other an' blew 'er to

blazes."

 

"Wot for?" asked a bearded petty officer.

 

"Wot for?" snorted the other. "To do us out of our bloomin' prize

money, of course. There was we, with our decks littered with sheep

and cattle, stickin' it for four mortal hours in the hope we'd put it

abaft the swine, an' all for nothin'. The U-boat was one of our own

mystery ships, rigged up to bamboozle Fritz. She was orf right into

Heligoland Bight to do 'er dirty work, if I remember right."

 

Von Preussen chuckled inwardly. Here indeed was a "scoop." Before

eight that evening the information, transmitted in the form of an

apparently genuine business telegram to a firm in Amsterdam, was in

the hands of the German Admiralty.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XVII

 

MUTINY

 

 

"HANS!" whispered Seaman Kaspar Krauss of U 247. "Do you know what

our swine-headed kapitan has made up his mind to do?"

 

"How should I?" responded Hans Furst with a grunt. "Something that

has upset your apple-cart."

 

"He's taking the vessel back to Ostend," announced Krauss. "It's

madness. To say nothing of the danger of mines, it's putting our

heads into a noose. With Wilhelmshaven and Heligoland dead under our

lee, why does he persist in making for Ostend? The boat is hardly

seaworthy; we are short of food, and yet----"

 

A petty officer, stooping to avoid the overhead gear, thrust his head

and shoulders through the oval aperture in the transverse bulkhead.

 

"Herr Kapitan wants you, Kaspar Krauss," he exclaimed curtly. The

seaman wiped his hands on a piece of cotton waste, looked into the

burnished reflector of a lamp to assure himself that his cap was on

straight, and hurried along the congested alleyway.

 

"Wonder what he wants me for?" he thought. He had done nothing as

far as he knew to merit either praise or censure. It was somewhat

unusual for a kapitan to summon a seaman. Orders would be generally

communicated through the medium of a petty officer.

 

Ober-leutnant von Preugfeld was sitting on a camp-stool on the

after-part of the deck. Behind him stood Unter-leutnant Eitel von

Loringhoven, while at his side were three men rigidly at attention.

 

The U-boat was running awash, the conning-tower being occupied for

the time being by the chief petty officer.

 

Kaspar Krauss felt far from comfortable. The sight of the three

motionless wooden-faced seamen--comrades of his--heightened his

discomfiture.

 

"See here, you swine!" began the amiable von Preugfeld, curtly

acknowledging the man's salute. "You were slow--abominably slow--in

executing orders. What have you to say?"

 

Krauss moistened his dry lips, trying vainly to recall the incident

to which the ober-leutnant referred.

 

Von Preugfeld eyed him like a cat about to pounce on a mouse. He was

furiously angry, and wanted to vent his wrath upon some one who could

not retaliate. The cause of his fury had nothing to do with Kaspar

Krauss's delinquency. He had just been referring to the English

Encyclopaedia to discover the meaning of the epithet "old bean," and

to his almost speechless indignation he found that one of his Royal

Air Force prisoners had likened him to "the seed of certain

leguminous plants, universally cultivated for food"--and old at that.

 

"You were fifteen seconds slow in carrying out my order to blow the

auxiliary ballasttank, you wooden-faced pig!" exclaimed von

Preugfeld. "For the remainder of the voyage you will work double

tricks and keep for'ard look-out on deck whenever we are running on

the surface. Now go!"

 

Kaspar Krauss, outwardly pale but inwardly fuming, saluted with a

faint suspicion of reluctance, and began to make his way aft until

the guttural voice of his kapitan called him back.

 

"Is that the way you salute me, _schweinhund_?" demanded von

Preugfeld. "If I find any more signs of slackness on your part, look

out. That's all. Now, again: dismiss!"

 

Von Preugfeld watched the fellow out of sight and then turned to his

subordinate.

 

"There's nothing like being firm with these brutes, von Loringhoven,"

he said in a loud voice, as if to impress the fact upon the three

seamen. "Take my advice: come down on them like Thor's hammer the

moment you see them giving signs of discontent. How many men have

been placed in the report this trip?"

 

"Eleven, Herr Kapitan," replied the unter-leutnant, smacking his

lips with relish. "A third of the ship's company."

 

"That shows good discipline, Eitel," rejoined von Preugfeld.

"Cast-iron discipline--that's the secret of efficiency."

 

He made his way to the conning-tower and spent some moments poring

over a chart of the centre portion of the North Sea. There were

mine-fields in profusion. Those laid by the British were shown in

blue, those of German origin were indicated in red. On paper they

looked formidable, but unfortunately for von Preugfeld there were

hundreds of others either drifting or else uncharted. He, too, cursed

the wireless order that was responsible for U 274 making for Ostend.

 

Having checked the course and given further instructions to the

quartermaster, von Preugfeld strolled aft, took a leisurely survey of

the horizon and, finding nothing in the shape of a vessel, settled

himself once more in his deck-chair.

 

Meanwhile 'tween decks discontent was seething. The men, disheartened

and hungry, were aghast at the idea of making for the Belgian coast.

Many of them were undergoing punishment for various slight offences.

Krauss, one of the more advanced agitators, was holding forth upon

the purposeless brutality of the kapitan.

 

Just then von Loringhoven made his way for'ard. Possibly by accident,

one of the group of malcontents lurched against him, for the

submarine was rolling in the sullen swell.

 

"Pardon, Herr Offizier!" exclaimed the man. It was Furst, slow of

action yet quick to take offence.

 

The next instant von Loringhoven raised his clenched fist and struck

the man heavily in the face. It was the unter-leutnant's idea of

imparting discipline with an iron hand according to the advice given

by Kapitan von Preugfeld.

 

Von Loringhoven had struck his men before. He had seen them stand

rigidly at attention, meekly bearing blows as becomes a military or

naval subject of the Kaiser. He expected Furst to do likewise, but to

his unbounded astonishment the German bluejacket planted a staggering

blow right in the centre of the unter-leutnant's chest.

 

Von Loringhoven reeled and fell heavily against a large air-flask.

There he lay breathless and unable to utter a sound.

 

For a few moments the men were dumfounded. Oft-times they had formed

mental pictures of striking their officers to the deck. Now the idea

had become a reality.

 

"You'll be shot for this, Hans Furst," exclaimed one of the men.

 

"Perhaps," replied Furst. "And all of you with me. I struck the pig,

I admit, but you were standing by and did not stop me. So that's

mutiny."

 

"Yes; that is so," agreed Krauss. "We've started, so why not carry it

through? I owe the kapitan a debt which I mean to pay. Furst will help. Who joins?"