CHAPTER VII.
VON ECKENHARDT SCORES.
"She's surrendered, sir; she's hoisted the white flag," shouted the crow's-nest man.
Ordering full speed ahead, Captain Ramshaw directed a course to be steered for the sinking "Osnabruck." While the carpenter and his men were still working feverishly in the boats, others of the crew were preparing lifelines and getting life-buoys ready to throw to the luckless wretches who, up till half an hour ago, had done their utmost to send the "Saraband" and her passengers and crew to "Davy Jones' Locker."
Rapidly the foundering vessel came clearer and clearer into view. Already her fo'c'sle was awash. Her crew had mustered aft, waiting for the final plunge; there was not one of her boats that was not rendered useless by the straight firing of the two 4.7-in. guns of her antagonist.
"By Jove, those fellows are brave and disciplined!" remarked Lymore, who was standing close to Terence. "Germany has a comparatively new navy, without any of the glorious traditions that ours has; yet——"
"They copy us, as much as possible, in that respect," added Aubyn. "I believe the Kaiser had the story of our 'Birkenhead' printed and distributed amongst his fleet as an example of what they ought to do in the face of death. Look, there she goes."
Quietly, without any suspicion of a swirl, the sea closed over the ill-fated "Osnabruck." She did not turn turtle. In fact, she partly righted herself as she disappeared, leaving a pall of smoke that obscured the awful vision of two hundred human beings struggling for life, to mark the spot where she took her last plunge.
Fortunately the sea was calm and the water warm. The cannonading had frightened away the tigers of the deep, so that the terrible danger of being seized by sharks was not added to the horrors of the scene. All around the surface was dotted with the heads of men swimming for dear life. Many of the German sailors were supporting their wounded comrades. They swam in silence, neither indulging in careless jest nor appealing for aid. They were too stolid to meet danger with the light-hearted bravery of the British tars; they were too confident in their belief that their enemies would do their utmost to save them to waste their breath in shouting for help.
The three boats were lowered almost simultaneously, and urged by the powerful strokes of the oarsmen as they bent to the ash blades, were quickly upon the scene. Men were hauled into the boats with all possible despatch, the officers in charge giving their crews special orders to pick up those who were wounded and exhausted.
Other Germans were saved by lifelines, while in several instances members of the "Saraband's" crew dived overboard from a height of thirty feet to rescue hapless Teutons who were on the point of sinking.
In all, eleven officers and one hundred and sixteen men, most of them partly dazed by the ordeal through which they had passed, were saved. F Provided with dry clothing by their captors, the officers were marched aft and placed under lock and key in the second-class passengers' smoking-room, while the men, save those whose state required medical or surgical attention, were secured in the fore part of the ship.
The German officers took their defeat badly. They had been informed of the "Saraband's" approximate position by wireless from their consort, the armed liner "Hertzolf," and had hoped to make an easy capture. Nor could they credit that the casualties on the British vessel numbered only eight men slightly wounded. They scoffed openly at the statement, till Captain Ramshaw, indignant that his word should be doubted, invited the German commander to witness a muster of the crew and compare the numbers with those on the ship's papers.
Without further incident the "Saraband" arrived at the Rock. Here, escorted by a naval vessel, since Gibraltar was under war conditions, she went inside the Mole and coaled. Temporary repairs, beyond the resources of the ship, were also carried out. The authorities, however, declined to take off the German prisoners, nor would they allow any of the passengers to land.
Four days later the "Saraband" brought up in Sandown Bay, off the Isle of Wight—the recognized "Examination Ground" for all merchant vessels making for either Portsmouth or Southampton. Here she was boarded by a naval officer who was detailed to pilot her through the intricate channel between the submarine defences of Spithead. In war-time nothing was left to chance in the safeguarding of the kingdom's greatest naval port. No vessels were permitted to enter by the Needles Channel. All movements of craft other than naval were forbidden to take place after dark, while at night the approaches to the historic anchorage were swept by dozens of powerful searchlights.
Terence Aubyn was naturally curious to know in what capacity he was to be employed by the Admiralty. He knew that with the calling up of the naval reserve he would for the time being sever his connexion with the Red Band Line. He hoped he would be appointed to a battleship or cruiser.
He was not long left in suspense. As the ship rounded the Nab Lightship her orders were received:—
"Make for Southampton and disembark passengers: then proceed to Portsmouth. 'Saraband' is to be converted with all due haste into an armed merchant cruiser."
No patriotic demonstrations, no outbursts of cheering greeted the badly battered vessel as, under reduced speed, she glided up the land-locked Southampton Water and made fast alongside the dock-wall. Save for a gang of stevedores and the mooring-party the docks were absolutely devoid of the civilian element. Khaki and naval uniforms were strongly in evidence, for the great commercial port had been given over entirely for warlike purposes, chiefly in connexion with the secret departure of the British Expeditionary Force.
Almost five hundred years previously an English army had embarked at that self-same town to wage a glorious campaign on French soil. Fifteen hundred small vessels, bedecked with banners, their lofty bulwarks lined with the shields of the flower of English chivalry, carried the array commanded by Henry V in person. With shouts and fanfares of trumpets and amid the acclamations of the worthy townsfolk, the fleet dropped down Southampton Water, bearing the knights, men-at-arms, and archers who were destined to win immortal glory on the field of Agincourt.
And now history was repeating itself—but with a difference. The forces of the Mighty Empire were once more leaving Southampton for the land of France: not as enemies of that country but as sworn allies against a common, powerful, and unscrupulous foe. These forces were working silently. There were no boisterous farewells, no braying of brass bands, no flamboyant speeches. The silent armies meant business.
Berthed in a secluded portion of the docks the "Saraband" immediately began to disembark her passengers. A train was waiting to take them away from the scene of military activity, for the sooner they were out of the way the quicker was the Embarkation Officer pleased. Then came the turn of the survivors of the "Osnabruck."
At the dock-side a strong body of khaki troops with fixed bayonets was drawn up, ready to form an escort to the prisoners. Two closed cabs were waiting for Major Karl von Eckenhardt and his confederate, Hans Slieber, who were to be indicted on several counts before a civil court.
The German sailors, finding that they were well treated, gave no trouble. In a quiet, orderly manner they trooped down the gangway and formed up in fours. In spite of their nondescript garments they presented a military bearing that characterizes the German seaman whether he be a member of the Imperial Navy or of the Mercantile Marine. One and all were permeated by the cast-iron discipline that is one of the results of a rigid system of conscription.
Surrounded by their guards they were marched off to cool their heels in a concentration camp.
"Now, Mr. Aubyn," said Captain Ramshaw, after the captive seamen had departed, "take the quartermaster with you and accompany these gentlemen."
He pointed to the four police officers who had been detailed to conduct the German spies to prison.
"We'll soon relieve you of further responsibility, sir," remarked one of the police. "According to information these gentlemen have caused a lot of trouble: I reckon they won't do so again, once we've laid hold of them."
"I won't be sorry to see the last of them," agreed Terence. "I only hope I shan't be kept about in connexion with the trial. I want to be afloat again."
The quartermaster unlocked the door of the cell in which Hans Slieber, alias Stone, was confined. The man sullenly submitted to be handcuffed; then, escorted by two of the police, was taken on deck.
"You didn't keep your two birds together, I see," commented one of the remaining officers.
"Rather not," replied Aubyn. "The two of them might put their heads together and do mischief. Alone, each can be kept in perfect safety. Now, quartermaster."
The quartermaster unlocked the door of the cabin in which Major von Eckenhardt had been placed. Then he gave a gasp of astonishment. The room was empty.
Unable to disguise his chagrin Terence dashed into the cabin, followed by the two police officers.
"It's as clear as daylight how he managed it," announced one of the representatives of the law, pointing to a portion of the steel bulkhead that lay on the floor. An oval section, wide enough for a man to crawl through, had been filed out of the partition. The aperture communicated with the second-class passengers' smoking-room in which the surviving officers of the "Osnabruck" had been quartered. Von Eckenhardt had been released from his place of confinement by them. Once in their company he shaved off his moustache and donned a naval uniform. Since some of the prisoners wore civilian garb, it was a comparatively easy matter for the spy to march out of the ship with the others.
"Anyway, we'll nab him at the concentration camp," declared one of the policemen confidently. "I'm afraid, sir, you'll be one of those who will have to identify him."
"If you can manage to stop the train you'll save me a lot of bother," declared Terence. "I must inform Captain Ramshaw at once."
Acting upon the fourth officer's suggestion the police succeeded in intercepting the train before it got clear of the docks. The German officers were closely inspected, but without result. By means of an astounding sang-froid the redoubtable spy, von Eckenhardt, had slipped past the guards while the prisoners were entraining, and was no doubt well on his way to liberty, and, what was worse, to renew his activities against the British Government.