The Mystery Ship 8

The Mystery Ship 8

Wakefield and Meredith replied in the negative. The excitement of the

unfortunate engagement was still making itself felt, rendering the

desire for sleep impossible.

 

"Take my tip and turn in," suggested Morpeth. "I'll get the steward

to bring some grub first, and then you'll be all right for the next

few hours. You'll excuse me, but I must see how things are going on

deck. I've got a ripping officer of the watch, but at the same time

the responsibility is mine."

 

Picking up his cap, the gold lace and badge of which was green with

exposure to the salt spray, Lieutenant-Commander Morpeth left his

involuntary guests and went on deck.

 

"Tough customer," remarked Wakefield. "His nickname is well bestowed.

I shouldn't care to fall foul of him."

 

"A good man for the job, I should imagine," said Meredith, as he

proffered his cigarette-case to his superior officer. "Where the Navy

would be without the R.N.R. goodness only knows. Those fellows could

carry on straight away, but we had to be trained--after a fashion. I

remember the first time I tried to bring an M.L. alongside a jetty.

There wasn't much tide and hardly any wind, but it took five attempts

before I did the trick."

 

"You were not the only one," said Wakefield reminiscently. "First

time I was running at fifteen knots I had the wind up properly. Knew

every article on the Rule of Road and all that sort of thing by

heart, but the first lumbering old tramp I met drove the whole

blessed lot out of my head. Scraped her quarter by less'n a yard, an'

it might have been worse."

 

Kenneth puffed thoughtfully at his pipe.

 

"Rummy war this," he observed. "When you take things into

consideration----"

 

"Fog's cleared away, and it's a bright moonlight night," announced

Morpeth, thrusting his head, surmounted by the salt-stained cap and

tarnished badge, through the doorway. "Care to come up and have a

look round?"

 

"Right-o, old thing," replied Wakefield.

 

Preceded by their host, the M.L. officers ascended the almost

vertical steel ladder and gained the deck.

 

"Mind our tram-lines," cautioned Morpeth, "That's right. Now, what do

you think of the old hooker?"

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER VII

 

A U-BOAT OF SORTS

 

 

THE "old hooker" was plugging along at a steady twelve knots. At

frequent intervals copious quantities of spray would be flung inboard

as her bows plunged into the long swell. Running dead into the eye of

the wind, she gave one an exaggerated idea of speed, for even in a

light breeze the wire rigging supporting the two short masts

verberated tunefully in the night air.

 

From the partly closed fo'c'sle hatchway came sounds of mild revelry.

Meredith smiled at the noise, for he recognised amongst others the

voices of some of his own men. Evidently the ex-crew of M.L. 1071

were taking kindly to their new surroundings, and were not in the

least perturbed by their change of fortune.

 

"Hefty sort of hooker after an M.L." remarked Wakefield. "And what

did you tell me was her name?"

 

"I didn't tell you any name, for the simple reason that she hasn't

one. She's simply Q 171, while to Fritz she appears as U 251--but

Fritz doesn't get away to tell the tale."

 

"What are these for?" asked Kenneth, kicking his boot against one of

a pair of metal rails that ran fore and aft.

 

"Our tram-lines," explained the lieutenant-commander of Q 171. "A

little device to clear decks for action in a brace of shakes. See our

conning-tower and that superstructure arrangement abaft it? They're

duds. Stand aside a minute, and I'll give a little demonstration of

how things are worked. A bit further--that's it; now you are clear of

the rails. Jackson!"

 

"Sir!"

 

A bearded petty officer came aft at a double, and awaited orders.

 

"The gadget!" exclaimed Morpeth laconically.

 

The man ran for'ard and was lost to sight beyond the break of the

conning-tower.

 

Ten seconds later, impelled by a swift and invisible force, the

conning-tower and the raised superstructure glided forward along the

rails, leaving exposed in all their stark aggressiveness three large

objects resembling exaggerated drain-pipes.

 

"Torpedo-tubes, by Jove!" exclaimed Wakefield.

 

"Guess you've never seen the type before," remarked the

lieutenant-commander of Q 171. "They are shorter than the standard

pattern, and, as you might observe, are not exactly parallel.

Discharge all three torpedoes simultaneously, and they run on

slightly divergent courses."

 

"Doesn't give Fritz much of a chance," observed Meredith.

 

"Not a dog's chance, old thing," rejoined Morpeth. "They're only

14-inch torpedoes, but they're just some. Blow a hole in a

battleship's hull large enough to take a stage-coach, so you can

imagine what happens when Fritz stops one--perhaps two, and very

occasionally three. In a way a fellow can't help feeling sorry for

Fritz, but he's asked for it all along the line. If he'd played a

straight game with his U-boats we would have given him credit for

what he'd done, and taken our chances. That chap who torpedoed our

_Cressy_, _Hogue_, and _Aboukir_ early in the war did a smart thing,

and the Navy admitted it; but now all the decent U-boat skippers have

packed up, or else have degenerated into low-down curs."

 

"Precisely," agreed Wakefield. "Hospital ships, and all that sort of

business."

 

"Unarmed merchantmen--that's why we've had to take on the Q-boat

stunt. Hardly seems proper jonnick to lure a Fritz within range, and

then blow him to bits, but, as I said before, he's asked for it."

 

"Bagged many?"

 

"A few," admitted the R.N.R. man modestly; then, pleased at a sudden

recollection, he squared his massive shoulders and burst into a

hearty roar of laughter. "That reminds me of the last Fritz we

scuppered. We had information that a U-boat was knocking around off

Bass Rock, playing Old Harry with small coasting craft out of

Arbroath and Granton, so we sent out the old s.s. _Niblick_--one of

the Pink Funnel Line. She had been sold to a firm of ship-breakers,

but when the pinch came they fitted her out again. Well, we followed

an hour after the _Niblick_ left Montrose, got within range, and

started firing at her, or rather putting shells into the sea within a

hundred yards or so. Presently we sighted a periscope. Fritz couldn't

quite understand things, since he imagined he was the only U-boat

sculling around. But after a while he couldn't resist the temptation

of joining in the pursuit, and he blew ballast-tanks and came to the

surface at a cable's length broad on our starboard beam. Before he

could get to work on the _Niblick_ with his bow quick-firer, he went

to the bottom for good and all. It required only one of our torpedoes

for that job."

 

"That's the stuff to give 'em!" exclaimed Meredith.

 

"It strikes me, Sub," observed Wakefield, as he stifled a yawn, "that

we of the M.L. patrol will have to pack up. There's nothin' doin' for

us now the Q-boats are out."

 

"Ever sighted a Fritz?" inquired Morpeth.

 

Wakefield was obliged to confess that he had not.

 

"I'm not surprised," continued the R.N.R. skipper. "Your little

packets make too much noise. I wouldn't mind betting that Fritz has

had a squint at you many a time through his periscope, and then he's

promptly legged it. You're like a fat policeman on the track of a

young burglar. It's the moral effect that tells. Before we cover up

these beauties I'd like to show you the torpedoes."

 

With a dexterous movement Morpeth opened the breech of one of the

tubes. Unlike the standard pattern, which is closed by means of six

butterfly nuts, the breech mechanism consisted of an intercepted

thread action somewhat similar to that of a quick-firer.

 

"We bagged that idea from the Hun," remarked Morpeth. "Now here is

our tinfish: it has a range of only two miles, but quite enough for

our purpose. Propulsive force, electric, and no fooling about with

compressed air."

 

The M.L. officers examined the well-oiled glistening steel cylinders.

In the bright moonlight the missiles looked harmless enough, but it

took very little effort of the imagination to picture the fate of a

craft torn by the explosion of fifty pounds of gun-cotton and aminol.

 

"The hydrophone-room," announced Morpeth, indicating a hatchway

almost amidships. "That's nothing new to you, I'm sure. Here is our

engine-room--petrol motors, of course."

 

"And your speed?" asked Wakefield.

 

"We are running normally--twelve knots."

 

"Yes--but all out?"

 

"With luck we might touch thirty-eight," was the unconcerned reply.

"It isn't very often we do that--it's not necessary when we're

Fritz-hunting--but when the Hun does come out with his light cruisers

and torpedo boats, then we just show a clean pair of heels before

they as much as sight us. Once they get an inkling that a British

Q-boat is out disguised as a U-boat, then we may just as well pay off

and save the taxpayers."

 

"But if their aircraft spotted you?" asked Meredith. "Your speed

wouldn't help you much then."

 

"I agree," said Morpeth. "Aircraft are, in my opinion, unmitigated

nuisances--that is, as far as we are concerned on this little stunt.

When I see any of our blimps or flying-boats I get the wind up,

because they naturally take us for a U-boat; and unless we're pretty

smart at making our distinguishing signs, and they are equally smart

at reading the same, they proceed with the utmost relish to strafe

us. When I meet the Air Force fellows ashore I chip 'em and say it's because they're jealous.