CHAPTER VI UNDER FALSE COLOURS
The Norwegian flag was flying gaily at the stern, when, after sunrise, the Aud weighed anchor.
At first we found ourselves distinctly amusing in our new rôle.
Every one went about in the most leisurely fashion possible (for on a tramp no one is ever in a hurry), rolling a little in our gait, pulling vigorously at a short pipe, and spitting with seamanlike skill to the four quarters of the heavens. Our hands, of course, were buried as deep as possible in our pockets.
After passing the Gjedser lightship, we laid a course for Falsterbö. The lifeboats from now on hung outboard, partly for our own safety and partly because it was customary at that time. There was still a great deal to be done that day, for before midnight I expected to be in enemy waters.
Before that, all the preparations had to be completed which were necessary in case of encountering the enemy. In order to be able at a moment's notice to blow up the ship, I had a large quantity of explosives placed in a suitable position, and built up round them a small casing of cement about three feet wide. The greater the resistance, the greater would be the effect of the explosion. The wire by means of which it was to be detonated was carried round various corners and angles to the upper-deck, where it was carefully concealed from prying eyes. To avoid any risk from carelessness, I had the fuses kept in a different place.
For our own weapons, ammunition, and tools, we sought out, on deck and below, the hiding-places which seemed most secure, both from damp and discovery. In case of a prize-crew being put on board, we intended to make an effort to overpower them.
In this connection our cook had a brilliant idea. On the assumption that he would be left free—for even the fiercest Englishman must eat—he hid a quantity of weapons and crowbars under a heap of ashes in a disused furnace, and preened himself not a little on the prospect of being able to set free the rest of us.
In the end there was not a spot in the whole ship, from bridge to bunkers, where there was not some kind of instrument of destruction ready to hand. Naval flags and pendants were concealed in a similar way.
A generous provision of alcoholic beverages was a simpler matter. With an ample supply everywhere at hand—good White Horse whisky and fine old brandy at that—in half-filled bottles invitingly open, we judged that it might be quite possible to deal with a prize crew without unnecessary bloodshed.
The next thing was to work out what may be called an 'emergency-station drill.' Ordinarily, that means the assignment of each member of the crew to his special post on such occasions as the outbreak of fire, 'man overboard,' and the like. For us it was highly important to have in addition our functions allotted for such emergencies as 'enemy ship in sight.' It would then be necessary to conceal as speedily as possible all German sextants, telescopes, charts, log-books, and other requisites of navigation, and substitute for them the corresponding Norwegian material. At the first alarm, therefore, all these suspicious objects had to be bundled into a big bag which hung on the bridge for the purpose. One of the seamen then sprinted across with it to the galley, where the cook stood ready to take it and pass it along to the secret chamber. There, at the ladder, the steward was ready to provide for its ultimate disappearance. All this could be done within two minutes.
Meanwhile the decks and engine-room were 'cleared for action.' Mathiesen, who knew a little Danish and was rather Scandinavian-looking, took the wheel on the bridge, in order, if need be, to exchange rôles with the officer of the watch. A mate's uniform hung for this purpose in the chart-house.
One of the stokers had the pleasing task of sitting, with the greatest attainable abandon, on the fore-hatch, lazily smoking his pipe and teasing the dog till it barked furiously. The rest of the crew, with the exception of the engineers and stokers on duty, had to disappear quickly and quietly from the deck, crawl into their bunks, and pretend to be asleep.
The whole thing was admirably successful. Any one observing from a distance the picture of peaceful innocence presented by our dingy-looking tramp could not possibly have seen anything to arouse suspicion. Special signals—either passed quietly from mouth to mouth or communicated by voice-pipe and engine-room telegraph—were arranged in case, with a prize crew already on board, it might become necessary to sink the ship. The word Tyske, Norwegian for 'German,' meant 'Stand by with the naval ensign, uniforms, and arms!' The further commands, to carry on, and to make the attack, were varied according to circumstances. The Norwegian phrase meaning 'Pedersen is to come to the captain,' signified: 'Stand by to blow up the ship! Fuse ready!' The order, 'Stop!' given three times in succession with the engine-room telegraph, meant, 'Fire the mine!' This drill we practised, if possible, daily.
We had now, with frequent alterations of course, made our way along the Danish coast as far as Falsterbö, where there was an extensive mine and ship barrier. The place was swarming with war vessels of every kind. An outpost-boat gave us our course through the barrier.