The Mystery Ship 6

The Mystery Ship 6

With a profusion of "Hoch, hoch, hoch!" their glasses clicked and the

toast was drunk. Then, tightening the belt of his trench-coat, the

spy ascended the ladder and gained the deck.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER V

 

THE PROWESS OF KAPITAN VON PREUGFELD

 

 

"THE fog is thicker than ever," grumbled the ober-leutnant as he

emerged from below. "It is so far fortunate for your landing, von

Preussen, but give me a clear night. Then there is far less risk of

being run down by those accursed P-boats."

 

"You need to be doubly careful on a night like this," rejoined the

spy.

 

"And one way is to lose no time in getting into the dinghy," added

von Preugfeld pointedly.

 

Rubbing alongside the bulging hull of the U-boat was a small

collapsible dinghy manned by a couple of hands clad in oilskins. In

the stern-sheets, muffled by a piece of tarpaulin, was a lighted

compass.

 

"I am sending my unter-leutnant in charge of the boat," observed von

Preugfeld.

 

"Then I hope Herr von Loringhoven realises the sense of his

responsibility," laughed the spy, as he stepped into the boat. _"Auf

Wiedersehen!"_

 

The dinghy pushed off under muffled oars and well-greased rowlocks.

In less than half a minute it was inaudible and invisible, swallowed

up in the fog.

 

The kapitan of U 247 remained on deck, half-buried in his greatcoat.

He was both irritable and impatient--impatient for the return of the

boat, irritable since he wanted to smoke and durst not. Another

U-boat commander had smoked on deck while his boat was recharging

batteries at night. The fumes of the cigar, drifting far and wide,

assailed the keen nostrils of a submarine hunter. As it was, the

U-boat got away, but her kapitan learnt a lesson and did not hesitate

to inform his fellow-pirates of his very narrow escape.

 

Always within easy distance of the open conning-tower hatchway and

ready to submerge at an instant's notice, Ober-leutnant von Preugfeld

maintained his solitary vigil, for the rest of the crew had been

ordered to their diving stations. It was the life of a hunted animal,

haunted by an ever-present fear. Von Preugfeld, prematurely aged and

careworn, had suffered the torments of the damned since the order had

been issued for unrestricted submarine warfare, At first he had

entered into the business with grim zest. A firm believer in the

policy of ruthlessness as applied to war, the ober-leutnant had no

compunction in sinking unarmed merchantmen and hospital ships, but

when the British Mercantile Marine took unto itself guns and

gun-layers who could shoot uncommonly straight, and when the Royal

Navy adopted certain sinister devices to cope with the pirate Hun,

von Preugfeld did not feel at all happy.

 

By this time he was convinced that he was on the losing side. Almost

every officer in the German Submarine Service had the same opinion,

although individually they were loth to admit it. The men, too, knew

that the U-boat campaign was a failure, but, unlike their officers,

they discussed the matter amongst themselves and thought that it was

quite about time they had a say in the business.

 

For a full forty minutes von Preugfeld paced the limited expanse of

steel platform that comprised the U-boat's deck, until a faint

whistle like the call of a curlew was borne to his ears.

 

Ordering a couple of hands on deck, the ober-leutnant gave the

pre-arranged reply. For another five minutes the interchange of

signals continued as the dinghy, baffled by the fog, endeavoured to

find her way back to her parent ship.

 

Presently the black outlines of the little boat loomed through the

moonlit mist. The bowman threw the painter, and von Loringhoven

clambered on board.

 

"This confounded fog!" he exclaimed. "I have not seen a worse one

even off the Friesland shore."

 

"And von Preussen?" asked the kapitan laconically.

 

"We landed him safely, Herr Kapitan," replied the unter-leutnant.

"There was no one about. The actual business of setting him ashore

was simple. We are to look out for him at the same place at midnight

on the first of next month, I believe?"

 

"That is so," assented von Preugfeld. "That is, if we are still

alive," he added, speaking to himself.

 

"If what, Kerr Kapitan?" asked his subordinate anxiously.

 

"Nothing," rejoined the other gruffly. "Now, to your post, von

Loringhoven. We have a tricky piece of navigation in front of us if

we are to arrive off Aberspey by midnight."

 

Thanks to his intimate knowledge of the coasts of Great Britain, von

Preugfeld was able to take the intricate inner passage round St.

Rollox Head. He did not expect to find any patrols in that waterway

on a foggy night, and his anticipations were well founded. Running

awash and at full speed, U 247 literally scraped past the outlying

rocks, the thresh of her propellers being deadened by the constant

roar of the surf upon the far-flung ledges that thrust themselves

seaward from the bold headland. Through a winding channel barely a

hundred yards in width, beset with dangers on either hand and swept

by furious currents and counter-eddies, the U-boat held steadily

onwards, until with a grunt of relief von Preugfeld "handed over" to

his subordinate.

 

"We're through," he observed. "Now keep her south by west at nine

knots. Call me in twenty minutes."

 

At the expiration of the given time the kapitan went on deck and

ordered the leadsman to sound. Very slowly the U-boat held on, until

through a rift in the fog the look-out sighted a green buoy on the

starboard hand.

 

"That is what I was looking for," remarked von Preugfeld to the

unter-leutnant. "It's a wreck-buoy placed there as a monument to our

achievement last March. You remember?"

 

"The _Camperdown Castle_, Herr Kapitan?"

 

"No, you fool," snapped the kapitan. "We sank the _Camperdown Castle_

eighty kilometres away to the south-eastward."

 

"The _Columbine_, then?"

 

"That's better," exclaimed von Preugfeld. "That red cross on her port

bow made an excellent mark, illuminated by electric light as it was

for our convenience. Now, shut off the motors. Call away the guns'

crews. Elevate to eight thousand metres, and fire anywhere between

west by north and west by south, and I'll warrant we'll make a mess

of things ashore in Aberspey."

 

The two six-inch guns mounted on U 247 were quickly manned. The

glistening, well-oiled breech-blocks were flung open, and the metal

cylinders with their deadly steel shells were thrust home. For a

brief instant the gun-layers lingered over their sights, training the

weapons upon an invisible target roughly five miles off.

 

"Open fire!" ordered von Preugfeld in a strained, harsh voice.

 

Both guns barked almost simultaneously, stabbing the foggy night with

long tongues of dark red flame. Even as the U-boat heeled under the

recoil the shrill whine of the projectile could be distinctly heard,

followed by the distant crashes of the exploding shells.

 

"Hit something," observed von Loringhoven. "Let us hope that the

objective was worth hitting."

 

"Carry on!" shouted the kapitan. "Twelve rounds each gun, and be

sharp about it."

 

The required number of rounds did not take long. The German gunners

were working in feverish haste, fearful lest the tip-and-run

bombardment would bring swift retribution in its wake in the shape of

a flotilla of destroyers.

 

Directly the last shell case had been ejected and passed below--for

brass was worth almost its weight in silver to the German military

and naval authorities--the guns were secured and the crews returned

to diving stations.

 

Pausing only to listen intently for sounds of approaching vessels,

von Preugfeld disappeared through the conning-tower hatchway. The

metal fastening clanged into its appointed place, the ballast tanks

were flooded and U 247 submerged to thirty metres.

 

For the next hour she proceeded warily, until her kapitan deemed it

safe to rise to the surface. The engines were stopped, and as soon as

the U-boat floated just awash the officers went on deck to listen.

 

"Petrol engine!" exclaimed von Loringhoven, as the noisy exhaust

beats of an internal combustion engine were plainly audible although

at a considerable distance.

 

"Down with her then!" ordered von Preugfeld.

 

As he moved towards the hatchway, the chief motor engineer

approached.

 

"We have a bad case of short circuiting, Herr Kapitan," he began.

"Both on magneto and accumulator the motors refuse to fire. I

have----"

 

"_Donnerwetter!_" exclaimed von Preugfeld angrily. "What monkey

tricks have you been playing? And there are hostile motor craft

around. Von Loringhoven, what depth have we?"

 

"Too great to rest on the bed of the sea, Herr Kapitan," replied the unter-leutnant.