The Mystery Ship 5

The Mystery Ship 5

CHAPTER IV

 

THE SPY

 

 

"FIFTEEN metres fine grey sand, Herr Kapitan."

 

Ober-leutnant Hans von Preugfeld, commanding officer of U 247, was

typically Prussian in his thoroughness. Carefully he examined the

sand adhering to the "arming" of the lead line that the leadsman held

up for his inspection.

 

He grunted a sort of congratulatory reply and, turning his back upon

the black oilskinned seaman, addressed himself to the

second-in-command.

 

"Good, Eitel!" he exclaimed. "We are not far from the spot. But

caution the men to keep their ears open and to stop running at

intervals. I am in no mood to fall in with any of those hornets, nor

do I want an English destroyer cutting us in twain."

 

Eitel von Loringhoven, unter-leutnant of the Imperial German

Submarine Service, nodded his head comprehendingly. He, too, fully

realised the perils that beset pirate _unterseebooten_, for, despite

all possible precautions, Germany's under-water fleet was in a bad

way. It came home to him in a very personal manner, too, for he was

the last survivor of five brothers who had gone out into the North

Sea mists at the behest of Admiral von Tirpitz. Four had never

returned. Of the manner of their demise he was in total ignorance.

Perhaps some day, if he survived the period of hostilities, the

British Admiralty might enlighten him, but until then his knowledge

of how four von Loringhovens simply vanished was merely a matter for

conjecture. And the very mystery of it all was both nerve-racking and

terrifying not only to Eitel von Loringhoven but to every officer and

man serving in the _unterseebooten_ flying the dishonoured Black

Cross Ensign.

 

Throughout the day U 247 had been feeling her way through fog of

varying intensity by aid of compass, lead line, and patent log.

Whenever the thud of the engines of an approaching vessel was heard

the U-boat submerged promptly and without ceremony. Although five out

of every six vessels that passed within audible distance were of the

British Mercantile Marine, U 247 made no effort to ascertain that

they were not warships. The risk of closing with any craft in the fog

was too great, for, although the U-boat could shell an unarmed

merchantman with impunity, she had long learnt to respect both

men-of-war and armed merchant ships.

 

Von Preugfeld had vivid recollections of the s.s. _Contraption_, a

six-knot tramp two hours out of Grimsby. He had had information from

an unimpeachable source that the _Contraption_ was unarmed, that she

carried munitions for Archangel, and that she expected to join a

convoy off Flamborough Head.

 

With these facts in his possession, the ober-leutnant showed far less

discretion than he usually exercised. Unable to resist a chance of

playing upon the nerves of the crew of the English ship, he brought U

247 to the surface, and at reduced speed maintained a position a bare

cable's length from the tramp's starboard bow.

 

Therein he made a great mistake. He had completely underrated the

stubborn courage of the British Mercantile Marine.

 

Hard-a-port went the _Contraption's_ helm. Barely had the crew of the

U-boat time to scurry below and submerge at record speed when the

tramp's forefoot rasped athwart the U-boat's deck. It was a near

thing, as the moisture on von Preugfeld's ashen-grey features

testified.

 

Twenty minutes later U 247 rose to the surface, and at a safe

distance shelled her antagonist and sent her to the bottom; but the

U-boat had to "leg it" back to Wilhelmshaven with her pumps going

continuously to keep down the water that oozed through ominous dents

in her hull.

 

"Ten metres, Herr Kapitan."

 

"Any signs of the lighthouse?" he demanded.

 

"None, Herr Kapitan."

 

"Keep her at that," continued the ober-leutnant. "Inform me when you

strike eight metres, unless you sight the headland before that."

 

Running just awash, and with her surface motors well throttled down,

U 247 held on until the look-out man gave the much desired

information:

 

"Land right ahead, Herr Kapitan. A white lighthouse two points on our

starboard bow."

 

It was now close on sunset. A partial lifting of the fog revealed at

a distance of about a mile a serrated ridge of dark cliffs

culminating in a bold promontory crowned by the massive squat tower

of a lighthouse. There was no need for von Preugfeld to verify the

statement by means of his reflex glasses. He rapped out a curt order,

and the U-boat swung round through eight points of the compass and

settled down to a course south-south-west, or parallel with the

forbidding shore.

 

"Tell von Preussen to hold himself in readiness," said von Preugfeld,

addressing the unter-leutnant. "If he is not set ashore within

forty-five minutes, I will accept no further responsibility in the

matter."

 

Von Loringhoven clicked his heels and saluted.

 

"Very good, Herr Kapitan," he replied. "Von Preussen is even now

changing into the accursed English uniform. Ach, here he is."

 

The ober-leutnant wheeled abruptly to see standing within three paces

of him a tall, thickly built man wearing a khaki uniform.

 

"So you are ready?" remarked von Preugfeld, not with any degree of

cordiality. Truth to tell, he was not at all keen about this

particular undertaking, namely, to set ashore a German spy disguised

as a British officer. "Well, I suppose your get-up will pass muster,

von Preussen? If it does not, I fancy you'll be in a tighter hole

than ever you've been before."

 

"I can look after myself, I think, Herr Kapitan," replied the spy. "I

can assure you that from my point of view my work ashore will be

child's play to the time I spent on board your vessel. Ach! I do not

hesitate to confess that I am not of a disposition suitable for

_unterseebooten_ work. It appals me."

 

The ober-leutnant shrugged his shoulders.

 

"It will help you to appreciate the perils that we undergo for the

honour of the Fatherland," he observed. "Perhaps, on your return, you

might communicate your views on the subject to the Chief of Staff.

Our task grows more difficult every day. The men, even, are showing

signs of discontent, thereby magnifying our dangers. But,

there--better come below and let von Loringhoven and me have a final

kit inspection; and at the same time we may join in a bottle of

Rhenish wine and drink to the success of our joint enterprise."

 

The kapitan having enjoined a petty Officer to maintain a vigilant

watch, led the way, followed by von Preussen, the unter-leutnant

bringing up the rear, and the three adjourned to a narrow,

complicated compartment that served as a ward-room. In spite of

scientific apparatus for purifying the air, that confined space

reeked abominably. Everything of a textile nature was saturated with

moisture, while the metal beams, although coated with cork

composition, exuded drops of rust-tinged water.

 

In the glare of the electric lamps Karl von Preussen stood stiffly

erect, clad in the uniform of a captain of the British Royal Air

Force. In height he was about five feet eight, broad of build, and

with decidedly Anglo-Saxon features. He could speak English fluently

and colloquially, and thanks to a British Public School education,

followed by a three years' appointment in a London shipping office,

he was well acquainted with the peculiarities and customs of a

country that was Germany's chief enemy.

 

Long before August 1914 von Preussen had been a spy. One might say

that the seeds of the dishonourable profession were germinating

during his school-days: they were certainly decidedly active when he

was occupying an ill-paid post in Threadneedle Street, where his

modest pound a week was augmented by sundry substantial sums paid in

British gold but emanating from Berlin.

 

The outbreak of hostilities found von Preussen fully prepared. Posing

as one of the principals of a steel factory, he practically had an

entry to every British Government establishment. Armed with forged

documents, he was not for one moment suspected. From Scapa Flow to

the Scillies, and from Loch Swilly to Dover, his activities brought

valuable information to the Imperial Government. Within a week of the

mining of a British Dreadnought--a calamity that the Admiralty vainly

attempted to conceal--von Preussen had conveyed details and

photographs of the lost vessel to Berlin, and on the following

morning the German Press published illustrated reports of a "secret"

known throughout the world.

 

When occasion offered, von Preussen did not hesitate to commit acts

of sabotage. More than once, disguised as a munition worker, he was

instrumental in the destruction of a shell factory, while it was he

who gave instructions and furnished material to the noted spy Otto

Oberfurst in order that the latter could and did destroy the cruiser

_Pompey_ in Auldhaig Harbour.

 

The stringent passport restrictions placed upon all travellers to and

from Great Britain considerably curtailed von Preussen's activities.

The difficulty of making a sea passage to the Continent was almost

insurmountable. Once, indeed, the spy essayed to fly, and was within

an ace of success, when the stolen machine crashed. Fortunately for

the spy, the accident happened in an unfrequented spot, and being but

slightly injured he contrived to get away; but the mystery of the

abandoned machine puzzled the brains of the Air Ministry for months.

Von Preussen returned to the Fatherland via Bergen, disguised as a

fireman on board a Norwegian tramp.

 

The spy had not long been in Berlin before he was peremptorily

ordered off on another "tour." The Hun High Command knew how to get

the best out of their secret service agents, and since Karl von

Preussen had been a success his employers kept him running at high

pressure. Accordingly, armed with instructions to report upon various

British air stations, and to obtain accurate information respecting

the bombing 'planes known to be building for the express purpose of

blowing Berlin to bits, the spy was sent on board U 247, the

commander of which was furnished with orders to land his passenger on

the east coast of Scotland.

 

"Here's to your venture, von Preussen!" exclaimed Ober-leutnant von Preugfeld, as he raised his glass. "Your health."