CHAPTER VII A DRESS REHEARSAL
'Destroyer coming up astern,' some one on the boat-deck shouted up to the bridge. A moment later we heard the familiar rush of a destroyer's bow-wave, and the ringing of her telegraph as she checked. What the devil do they want?'
'Where are you from, captain,' comes a voice from below us.
A sub-lieutenant is standing, megaphone in hand, on the bridge of the pitching craft, whose funnels are only just on a level with our upper deck. Close as she is to us, all the officers of the watch are scanning us curiously through their glasses, while the men standing about the deck stare at us open-eyed. As it is just as well that we should not be recognised, I give my men a sign to go below, and myself, take my stand at the rail, shaking my head, to convey to the sub-lieutenant that the German language is not one of my accomplishments.
'Of course,' I can hear the little man below grumbling to himself, 'another of these idiots of captains who can speak no civilised language!'
Nevertheless, he had another try, shouting at me through the megaphone in a rasping tone, 'Where are you from? Can't you answer?'
Again I relentlessly shook my head, though it was all I could do not to laugh outright when I recognised the speaker's voice. I had talked to him in the streets of Kiel a couple of days before.
'Nothing doing! 'he growled angrily to himself, and said something to a signalman, who thereupon ran aft, and returned accompanied by a lieutenant, who had obviously been awakened from his siesta.
'Hallo, capt'n,' he shouted to me in fluent English,[3] 'where are you coming from?'
'Danzig,' I answered shortly.
'Where are you bound for?'
'Christiania.'
In the ensuing pause I turned round and pretended to play with the dog, by way of showing that I had no use for any further conversation with the destroyer.
Meanwhile, I could hear the little sub saying crossly, 'I'll be hanged if the fellow's on the square. I'll swear there's something fishy about the business.'
I gave an impatient pull to my gay-coloured scarf, and nonchalantly knocked out my foul little pipe on the rail, so that the ash flew right into the eyes of the two speakers.
'Boor!' was the only further word that I heard, for a second afterwards the destroyer backed astern, came up again on our port side, and steamed along abreast of us for a while, all eyes on our deck, and on the shining paint of the flags and names on our side.
Mathiesen, who now shoved his Norwegian-looking visage into the foreground, must have allayed the suspicions of the wary pair, for a sudden shout of 'All right, captain,' accompanied by a wave of the hand, gave me to understand that I might proceed.
We had passed our first test safely. Some five hundred yards beyond the barrier, a small Danish steamer flying a pilot-flag, came steaming towards us. Here was our first real risk. I knew that no merchant ships were allowed to pass through the Flintrinne and the Sound without taking a pilot, and I had therefore already discussed with my officers what we should do about it. If we took a pilot, it would be impossible to keep up the pretence of being Norwegians for the whole time—amounting to several hours—that he would be with us. On the other hand, if we refused his services, it might be taken as certain that his suspicions would be aroused; unless we had the luck to meet a particularly stupid one.
After long deliberation I resolved, however, to back our luck and take the latter course, and the luck held.
Long before he got near us, I made signs to indicate that I did not want a pilot. Our friend, however, who no doubt meant to get a whacking fee out of us, was very determined about it; and gave us to understand, with a fine flow of language and gesticulation, that he was coming on board whether or no. My chief engineer meanwhile saw to it that he should have all he could do to keep up with us. To prevent his getting in the first word, I took the megaphone and shouted to him in English, the 'universal language' of seafaring men, 'I don't want a pilot, I know the water here!' The only result was that the good man became more clamorous than ever, and indicated the exact point on the side at which he wanted a ladder let down for him.
To get rid of his importunity, Mathiesen had at last to shout to him in Danish, 'We don't need you, we know the channel!' Then I sheered off a bit to port, and our friend, at length recognising the futility of his efforts, steamed away, cursing and shaking his fist. We saw him making at full speed for the Danish lightship at the entrance to the Flintrinne.
'By Jove, I expect that's torn it,' remarked my second, watching him through his glasses. I had to acknowledge that he might be right. The Danes were at that time notoriously anti-German, and the lightship had a wireless installation. If the fellows wanted to set a trap for us, they had only to report promptly to the English, 'Suspicious steamer passed, proceeding out on a northerly course,' and we should be quite certain, within five hours after passing Helsingborg, to make the acquaintance of an English cruiser. To add to our disquietude, it was no long time before we overhauled in the narrow channel a Danish schooner, which had lain close astern of us at the quays of Lübeck, what time we were still a German steamer!
However, we should need luck to get through in any case, and a risk less or more was nothing to be downhearted about....
Copenhagen and Malmö, with their great pools of light, are now far behind us. As we meet the fresh breeze at the entrance to the Kattegat, a barquentine, under full sail, glides past us without a sound.
She carries no lights, and the ghostly outline of her bellying canvas is dimly silhouetted against the moonless sky. In a few seconds she has disappeared in the deep darkness.
But what is that? The lines of a torpedo-boat show up to port; the rays of a pair of searchlights dart through the air and disappear again. Then another flash sweeps upward, the cone growing larger and larger. Now he has us; on the decks of the Aud it is light as day, our eyes are blinded for the moment. A few seconds of this and the cone disappears again as quickly as it came.
The Danish torpedo-boat that guards the entrance of the sound, to protect Danish neutrality, has held us for a moment under the magnifying glass, so to speak, to examine our distinctive markings—and has passed us as a harmless neutral.