CHAPTER XX.
A DUEL WITH A ZEPPELIN.
An hour after sunset "E Something" rose to the surface. Her hatches were opened and the crew allowed on deck, five men at a time, to enjoy the cold, fresh air. Owing to the possibility of the sudden approach of a swift hostile cruiser or destroyer it was not advisable to let more men out at once, in order that there would be no delay in battening down and diving.
It was a clear starlit night. Away to the east the sky was illuminated by the steely rays of the searchlights on the German batteries, where the garrisons, kept on thorns by the dread of a visit from the British Fleet, maintained ceaseless watch.
"I shouldn't wonder if we weren't honoured by the attentions of a few German torpedo-boats," remarked Warborough to Aubyn, as the two officers, sheltering from the wind under the lee of the conning-tower, were enjoying their cigarettes. "By this time the boats of the torpedoed cruiser ought to have reached land, and the report of the disaster—cooked by the authorities for serving up to the gullible Teutonic public—will have been issued."
"It will probably be reported that she struck a drifting mine," said Terence.
"More than likely," agreed Warborough. "Drifting mines are a godsend to the harassed German press agencies. But, all the same, those fellows on the cruiser must have seen the wake of our torpedo, and that's what makes me think that they'll be sending some of their small craft to give us a shaking up—if they can."
Meanwhile, the wireless mast, which during the period of submergence had been housed on deck, had been set up, and a report of the torpedoing of an unknown German cruiser of the "Freya" class had been sent off to the Admiralty. A second message, reporting the rescue of Sub-Lieutenant Terence Aubyn, R.N.R., and Seaman Stairs, was also despatched.
Twenty minutes later came the reply:—
"Admiralty express great satisfaction at prowess of submarine 'E Something,'" while the news concerning the rescued officer and man was acknowledged in stereotyped form.
"Another 'buck-up' for the British Public," remarked Terence, "although our little piece of work—excuse me saying 'our,' but it sounds natural—will pale into comparative insignificance after the 'Bluecher' business."
"Perhaps My Lords will not make the news public—at least, not for a long while," rejoined Warborough. "They'll keep it in reserve until there is a lull in the papers. Of course not a quarter of the work, that would gladden the nation like anything, gets into the Press. It isn't well to let the enemy know too much of their losses. By the by, did you hear anything about a hostile submarine attempting to slip past the Needles and into the Solent?"
"No," replied Terence. "Is it a fact?"
"Can't say, old man. Accounts differ. All I know is, that I was staying at a house close to Lymington just before Christmas. It was the first leave I had had since the outbreak of the war. Anyway, the gunners on the Isle of Wight forts spotted something suspicious, and promptly let rip for about twenty minutes."
"Did they hit anything?"
"They did," answered Warborough, with a grin. "They nearly plugged me with a ricochet. Several shells fell inland, one of them demolishing the chimney of a country pub. Next day I heard on good authority——"
"Something moving up aloft, sir!" reported one of the submarine's crew. "Listen, sir. There's a distinct purr."
"A Zeppelin, by Jove!" exclaimed Warborough. "Pass the word to the captain."
The lieutenant-commander, termed by courtesy the captain, was resting in his bunk. He was quickly on deck, for he had "turned in all standing," with the exception of his boots.
He looked aloft. Like a lead-pencil the Zeppelin could now be distinguished as she rapidly advanced at an altitude of about a thousand feet. Judging by her position she would, unless she changed her direction, pass half a mile to windward of the submarine.
"Mr. Warborough," exclaimed the lieutenant-commander, "I don't propose to dive."
"Very good, sir," replied the sub. of "E Something," as coolly as if the Zeppelin were anything but a war-machine.
With very little noise the guns'-crews mustered on deck. The two anti-aerial guns were raised on their disappearing mountings, ammunition was served out, and the submarine was prepared to risk an encounter with the vaunted terror of the air.
Although the petrol engines, used for running on the surface, were in motion, the clutches of both shafts were disconnected and the exhaust completely muffled. Thus the submarine was ready to forge ahead at a moment's notice; but, until she was discovered by the giant gas-bag, her captain preferred to lie low until the Zeppelin somewhat incautiously would descend to investigate the scene of the catastrophe to the torpedoed cruiser.
At each of the 3-pounder quick-firers the gun-layers "stood easy." To keep bending over the sights of the high angle firing-gun would be putting an unnecessary strain upon the men. They waited alertly for report of the range-finding officer and the order to open fire.
"The brute is in no hurry to descend," grumbled Warborough. "She's a good two thousand feet up now, and a pretty bad target, especially at night. One thing, she doesn't stand much chance of dropping a bomb within a couple of hundred yards of us, unless it's by a pure fluke."
"She's descending," exclaimed Terence, as the long, aluminium cylinder, under the influence of the compensating weights, began to dip her nose.
As he spoke a searchlight flashed from the foremost nacelle. The rays, almost perpendicular in direction to the surface of the water, played upon the sea at some three hundred yards from the quiescent submarine. The Zeppelin had its suspicions, but as yet had not located its intended prey.
"Don't look up, men," cautioned the lieutenant-commander, knowing that should the searchlight play upon the faces of the crew detection would be certain. He, as well as Warborough, had taken the precaution of wrapping a dark muffler over the lower part of his face, while his forehead was shaded by his peaked cap.
It was a hard thing to obey the order, but the men, subduing their natural desire to see what menaced them from above, kept their faces averted.
"A thousand feet up," announced Warborough at length, speaking softly, lest the sound, borne upwards with remarkable clearness, should give the Zeppelin the alarm. "Actual distance, one thousand five hundred yards."
As he spoke the deck of "E Something" was bathed in a flood of brilliant light. A sweep of the searchlight had caused the beam to "pick up" the submarine. So dazzling were the rays that it would have been impossible to sight either of the guns in the direction of the airship.
With admirable presence of mind the lieutenant-commander forbore to open fire. Rigidly the men stood at attention, not one of them risking the temporary blindness that would ensue if he raised his eyes to the powerful glare.
"Thank heavens," ejaculated the captain fervently, as the sweeping rays swung round, "they haven't spotted us!"
"Eight hundred feet—twelve hundred yards," reported Warborough.
The Zeppelin was still descending; more, she had slowed down considerably, since during the last four minutes she had travelled three hundred yards. Heading dead into the eye of the wind her rate over the sea was now roughly two and a half miles an hour.
The Zeppelin now presented an easy target, as, moving slowly, she stood out clearly against the starry sky.
The lieutenant-commander raised his hand, the gun-layer of the for'ard weapon sprang to the night-sights; in another second the missile would have been hurtling on its way towards the bulky target, when round swept the blinding searchlight, full on the submarine.
This time there was no swaying round the rays were kept focussed on the "E Something." The Zeppelin had spotted her foe.
"Confound that light!" muttered the skipper, as he telegraphed for full speed ahead.
Quickly the vessel gained steerage way, the helmsman thrusting his helm hard over, alternately to port and starboard at frequent intervals in order to pursue a zig-zag course and thus baffle the aim of the bomb-trainers.
The first bomb was not long in making its presence known. From the invisible and now noisy airship, for her engines were making a terrific din, a powerful missile dropped fifty yards abeam of the submarine, and burst with a loud report.
Fragments of the shell flew in all directions, some glancing harmless from the rounded side of the submarine, and others flying overhead. Not a man was touched.
The second bomb fell much further off and dead ahead. The Zeppelin had overrun her quarry.
With a sharp turn of the steering gear the helmsman brought "E Something" smartly round in a semicircle till her bows pointed in the opposite direction to which they had been heading a few seconds before. So quickly was the manoeuvre executed that the submarine swept out of the irritating rays of the searchlight.
Both quick-firers barked simultaneously. One shell burst well beyond the frail gas-bag; the other appeared to explode almost under the foremost suspended car. Whether by accident or design the searchlight was immediately switched off, while the Zeppelin, elevating her horizontal rudders and frantically throwing out ballast, began to rise in order to be out of range of the British shells.
"Crash!" went the after anti-aircraft gun. This time the range was obtained to a nicety, and the projectile, bursting almost in front of the bows of the Zeppelin, gave her a mortal blow.
To the watchers on the submarine the whole fabric of the airship appeared to jump, then, with the slightest perceptible interval following the explosion of the missile, a second detonation occurred in the fore-part of the Zeppelin. There was a blinding triple flash, followed by a deafening report. The aluminium envelope seemed to disperse amidst a cloud of fire-tinged smoke, while the heavier portions of the airship fell with ever-increasing rapidity.
Amidst a series of heavy splashes, the wreckage plunged into the sea at less than half a mile from the submarine. A quantity of heavy oil, taking fire as it streamed downwards, remained burning upon the surface of the water for quite a considerable time, then with a number of spasmodic flashes the flames died out, leaving only a slowly drifting cloud of smoke to mark the spot where the wreckage fell.
During the final catastrophe the men of the British submarine remained almost spellbound. They had gained the victory, but all thoughts of elation were subdued by the awfulness of the fate of the vaunted terror of the air.
The "E Something" was then run to the spot where the ill-starred Zeppelin had disappeared, in the vain hope of rescuing any survivors. For a radius of several hundred yards the sea was covered with oil which had escaped combustion, but of actual relics of the airship nothing was visible. Her twisted and bent aluminium framework lay a hundred and twenty feet down at the bottom of the North Sea.
Just before dawn the submarine descended and lay hidden, save for a brief interval of reconnaissance, during the whole of the day. At night she came up in order to give the crew a "breather." Nothing of incident occurred, neither on the two following days, so Terence had a good idea of the monotony of life in a British submarine on observation duty.
At daybreak on the following Thursday the "E Something" prepared for her homeward run. She travelled awash, without sighting any enemy cruiser or destroyer. At a rendezvous she fell in with her relief, and having exchanged greetings the two submarines parted, one to enjoy a welcome rest in Harwich harbour, the other to play her part in sweeping the North Sea of the enemy's flag.
"We're giving that fellow a rare funk, Aubyn," remarked Warborough, as the two officers were standing on the navigation platform.
"An example of the far-reaching effect of Teutonic kultur, I suppose," replied Terence. "By Jove, I reckon her old man is shaking a bit!"
The subject of their conversation was a Dutch tramp steamer of about 1500 tons. Anticipating the execution of von Tirpitz's cowardly threat to sink British merchantmen, she had lost no time in stating her nationality in an unmistakable manner. Her wall sides were painted in horizontal bands in the national colours, in addition to her name and country in letters a yard or more in length. From her ensign staff she flew a Dutch ensign far out of proportion to those usually sported by vessels of that size, while, to make additionally certain that no mistake on the part of a German submarine was possible, she flew another Dutch ensign at her main-masthead.
Directly they spotted the "E Something" running awash and with the White Ensign prominently displayed, the tramp altered her course. Dense columns of black smoke poured from her funnel; every available man of her engine-room staff gave a hand in shovelling the "black diamonds" into the furnaces.
At the very best she could make only eleven knots; had the "E Something" been a German vessel the Dutchman would have stood no chance of escape.
Even as the two officers were watching the panic-stricken tramp, a column of spray shot up fifty feet in the air, about half a cable's length astern of the submarine.
To the accompaniment of a peculiar screeching sound another and yet another column of foam leapt skywards. Both men knew at once from experience what was the meaning of those pillars of spray; they were caused by the series of ricochets of a "common shell."
"Hard a-starboard!" ordered Warborough. The submarine awash presented too big a target broadside on. End-on the area exposed to the distant gun-layer was comparatively small.
"Diving quarters!" shouted the junior officer of the submarine.
In fifteen seconds the hatches were closed and the boat trimmed for diving. At an unusually steep angle she disappeared beneath the surface.
"Just our confounded luck," declared the lieutenant-commander. "One of our own cruisers trying her level best to smash us. That tramp altering her course gave her the tip. But the fellow who laid that quick-firer ought to have his cross-guns taken away for a bad miss," he added grimly, referring to the "gun-layer's badge" worn on the right arm.
A careful survey by means of the periscope revealed no sign of the cruiser or destroyer that had been so inconsiderate as to fire upon one of her submarines; but the modern "Flying Dutchman" was well within view, and about a couple of miles on the submarine's port bow.
The lieutenant-commander knitted his brows in perplexity. His craft was in an awkward predicament. She had been fired on at sight, owing possibly to the tramp signalling to the British warship that she was being chased by a German submarine. If "E Something" had remained awash a second or third shot would in all probability have sent her to the bottom for good and all, since it was impossible to convince the cruiser or destroyer of her error in time to stop the over-zealous guns'-crews.
By diving, the submarine was safe from the effect of gun-fire so long as she kept submerged; but directly she reappeared she might be instantly fired upon or else rammed by the now alert cruiser, which would certainly follow the supposed course of the unseen craft.
Suddenly an idea flashed through the brain of the skipper of "E Something." The Dutch tramp had been the cause of the somewhat disconcerting incident: he would make her the means of getting out of an awkward, not to say hazardous, position.
Terence held his breath when he heard the order to ascend to the surface. The operation savoured of suicide, for it seemed evident to him that the mere showing of the top of the conning-tower would result in a salvo from the guns of the cruiser, which must by this time have greatly decreased the distance between the position from which she fired the first shot and the spot where the submarine had vanished.
Up rose the "E Something," but no shell burst with devastating effect within her vitals. Almost before she regained her normal position the order was given to open hatches.
"Now, Aubyn, up with you!" exclaimed Warborough.
Terence needed no second invitation. Nimbly he ascended the iron rings of the vertical ladder and gained the deck. To his surprise he found that the submarine was close alongside the Dutchman's starboard quarter and moving at practically the same speed and in the same direction as she was.
The submarine's White Ensign, which, owing to the hasty descent had not been lowered and untoggled from the halliards, was hanging limply from the staff, resembling an umbrella. For the purposes of recognition it was useless. Even had it been otherwise, the minds of the crew of the tramp were so completely obsessed with the idea that the craft was a German submarine that they would have regarded the ensign as false colours.
Imagining that the game was up, the stolid Dutch skipper leant over the bridge rail, while a dozen of the crew peered anxiously over the side.
"This is a Dutch ship," announced the skipper vehemently in German. "Why are you stopping me?"
"We are not stopping you, my friend," replied Warborough, in English. "Can you understand?"
"Yes, ver' well," was the reply; then pointing to the distant British cruiser, which was now recognisable as one of the "Astraea" class, he continued: "If you English, why dat sheep fire?"
"Just what we don't want her to do," replied Warborough. "So we've taken the liberty of ranging up alongside you. They can't very well fire at us now, and they'll soon discover their mistake."
Meanwhile, the signalman had hoisted the submarine's code number, but owing to the confusing background afforded by the tramp's tricoloured sides, the hoist was not readily "picked up" by the cruiser, which was now approaching to ascertain the mystery of a supposedly hostile craft that had the audacity to hold up a merchantman under the very guns of a British man-of-war.
"There's the answering pendant, sir—at the dip," announced the signalman, pointing to a red and white strip of bunting hoisted half-way up the cruiser's yard-arm. "Now it's hoisted close up, sir!" he added after a brief pause.
The cruiser had seen and had read the submarine's signal. Closing, she ramped up at a cable's length from the little craft that she had done her level best to sink.
A facetious exchange of compliments by means of hand-flags was indulged in, and with a mutual farewell the British vessels parted, while the skipper of the Dutch tramp, devoutly grateful that things were not so bad as he had imagined, resumed his course towards Ymuiden.