CHAPTER XXXIV
Home Again
It was fifteen miles to the nor'ard of the Skaw in broad daylight. R19 was running awash in a perfectly calm sea. Sub-Lieutenant Fordyce, keeping a tramp under observation, turned to the Quartermaster.
"Starboard a couple of points, Quartermaster," he ordered. "I want to have a closer look at that ship. Dash it all," he soliloquized, "the old tub seems strangely familiar!"
Evidently the vessel in question did not evince any desire to accept the submarine's advances, for she, too, altered helm.
"What is it?" enquired the Lieutenant-Commander, who at that moment emerged from the conning-tower.
"A tramp under Swedish colours, sir," reported the Sub. "Strange thing, she has a gun mounted for'ard. Unless I'm much mistaken we've met her before to-day."
An order from the Lieutenant-Commander brought the guns' crews on deck. The for'ard quick-firers were raised from their "houses" and manned, while, increasing speed, R19 was soon within hailing distance.
"What ship is that?" enquired the Hon. Derek in English.
"Ryan-Berg, of Malmo," was the reply. "You our colour painted on side see."
"I'm not blind—only sceptical," retorted the Lieutenant-Commander. "Heave-to; I'll send a boat."
While the tramp was losing way the submarine flung about, taking up a position on the vessel's starboard quarter, and on a parallel course.
On the bluff counter of the tramp appeared the words: "Ryan-Berg—Malmo", but at a short distance it was quite evident that the name was painted on a strip of canvas.
"That's good enough, Mr. Fordyce," remarked the Hon. Derek grimly.
"And what's more, sir," added the Sub, "she's an old friend, the Talisman, of Goole. She missed us at point-blank range on one occasion."
"I recollect," agreed the Lieutenant-Commander, "and we pumped out a gallon of lubricating-oil just to encourage her misguided but praiseworthy skipper. Carry on, Mr. Fordyce."
Quickly the boarding-party tumbled into the boat and rowed off to the tramp. Revolver in hand, Fordyce gained her deck, to be greeted by half a dozen Teutons in very motley garb.
"The game's up," exclaimed Fordyce. "We are not bluffed by fresh paint and a canvas name-board."
The prize crew were ordered below, while the former master and a dozen hands were released from captivity.
"You never know your luck," exclaimed the rightful skipper of the Talisman, a bluff, grey-haired salt of the burly, breezy type. "I expected to find myself in a German prison-camp within the next thirty-six hours. A light cruiser nabbed us four miles outside Christiansand harbour. They clapped us under hatches and put a prize crew on board, and a rascally set they are."
"They treated you decently?"
"Not so bad," replied the "old man", "until they found I had an Admiralty certificate for sinking a U-boat. Blew her to bits at fifty yards. Not a doubt about it; there was oil enough to spread over a couple of hundred yards."
"And when did that occur?" asked Fordyce.
The master of the Talisman gave the date.
"The swine tore up my certificate," he added bitterly. "I suppose the Admiralty will give me a duplicate?"
"I should imagine so," replied Fordyce. "Excuse me, but time is precious. I must ask instructions from my commanding officer."
The Hon. Derek, upon being informed of the state of affairs, ordered Fordyce and four seaman to remain on board the prize.
"We'll stand by you," he added. "I suppose there's enough coal left in her bunkers to carry her home?"
"I'll enquire, sir. By the by, her master has or had a certificate presented him by the Admiralty for having fired at us. Luckily he missed."
"You didn't enlighten him, I hope?" asked the Hon. Derek anxiously.
"Oh no, sir!"
"That's good. Carry on—yes, certainly, take Flirt with you. And good luck!"
* * * * *
"So that dog's turned up again," observed Mr. Fordyce, senior, when a taxi deposited Noel, Flirt, and a portmanteau outside the Sub's paternal home, and informal but warm greetings had been exchanged. "I thought she was lost."
"I took her for a cruise for the benefit of her health, Pater," said his irrepressible offspring.
"Benefit of her health indeed," re-echoed Mr. Fordyce. "And, pray, is she better for the change? I was under the impression that she was far too high spirited before. I hope to goodness, Noel, that there will be no repetition of the Councillor Mindiggle business."
"I'll answer for that, Pater," replied the Sub. "She won't nip him again."
"You seem jolly sure of it," rejoined Mr. Fordyce. "If she does she'll have to be des——"
A dinner gong sounded, and Noel linked arms with his somewhat biased parent and led him into the dining-room.
"I'm awfully peckish, Pater," he remarked.
"Then set to," suggested Mr. Fordyce. "Well, what have you been doing with yourself?"
When at length Noel finished his yarn—on this occasion he was more communicative as to his adventures than on former occasions—Mr. Fordyce called to Flirt, who was contentedly coiled up on the hearth-rug.
"Come here, little girl!" he exclaimed. "By Jove, you're a brick! I'll take back all I said of you. Dash it all, I'd give you a biscuit but for my Lord Rhondda!"
PRINTED AND BOUND IN GREAT BRITAIN
By Blackie & Son, Limited, Glasgow
Transcriber's Notes:
This book contains a number of misprints.
A few cases of punctuation have been corrected, but not mentioned here. The other misprints are reproduced as in the original.
Possible misprints are:
[It would have been a spendid] —> [It would have been a splendid]
[it's all U P with us] this might be a (strange) misprint for [it's all up with us]
[Orloof] —> everywhere else it's: [Orloff]
[futherance] —> [furtherance]
[framents] —> [fragments]
[was mantained] —> [was maintained]
[Klostovitch] —> everywhere else it's: [Klostivitch]
[freqently] —> [frequently]
[messsage] —> [message]
[Quarter-Master] —> everywhere else it's [quartermaster]
[THE TOO FAITHFUL FLIRT] —> in the list of illustrations there's no dash, but there is one beneath the actual image.