CHAPTER XIV
A BREACH OF NEUTRALITY
Tressidar awoke with a start to find himself in utter darkness. Accustomed to be aroused at all times and without warning, he was fully awake in an instant.
The "Freya" was rolling considerably. Against her sides the waves slapped viciously. Above his head he could see the seas pouring on deck with that almost indescribable sound that accompanies the rush of green water over the low bulwarks.
The rain had been succeeded by a stiff blow and the tramp was ploughing through a rough sea with the wind broad on her starboard beam.
"Thank goodness no middle watch for me to-night," soliloquised the sub. as he prepared to fall asleep again. "Wonder what the time is? I'll just see to satisfy my curiosity."
He leapt from his bunk and searched for the switch, for the after-cabin of the "Freya" was electrically lighted. Having switched on the light, he consulted his watch. It was twenty minutes to ten.
"By Jove, I've almost slept the clock twice round!" exclaimed Tressidar. "It was nearly two in the morning before I turned in. Seventeen hours at ten knots, if not more. Why, the old tub must be well across the North Sea by this time."
Wondering why the "Freya" had not fallen in with any patrol ships, the sub. dressed and left the cabin. In the saloon he found the Norwegian skipper, who was in the midst of a meal.
"You slept so soundly that we did not like to awaken you," he said as he rose to greet his guest. "There has been nothing to report. We have not sighted a single sail since yesterday. Please sit down and have some food."
"And my men?" asked Tressidar.
"They are all practically recovered except two, who have to keep to their bunks," replied the Norwegian. "They have all turned in again, but if you wish to see them——"
"No, I won't disturb them," the sub. hastened to declare, lest his desire to communicate with his men might give rise to unfounded suspicion. "To-morrow, perhaps. Where are we now, do you think?"
"About eighty miles due west of Cape Stodt, which is, you may perhaps remember, almost midway between Christiansund and Bergen," was the reply. "In order to avoid meeting German submarines, I have to hug the Norwegian coast. I am afraid we've evaded your cruisers, sir. Believe me, it was not by design, but by accident. Of course there is no reason why you should not return to England by steamer after we land you at Gothenborg, provided you and your men wear civilian clothes and discard your arms and ammunition."
"That is something to be thankful for," remarked Tressidar. "So long as I am back in England and able to rejoin my ship, I am content. Next to being a prisoner of war the lot of an interned man must be fearfully irksome."
"Quite so," agreed the skipper. "Now tell me: when do you think that the war will be over?"
"When we've properly whacked the Germans—not before," replied the sub. firmly.
"Then the sooner the better," added his host. "At the present time it is hardly safe for a neutral ship to be at sea. We neutrals are like a man standing on two rickety stools. At any moment one might collapse and let us down badly. Holland and Denmark are the worst off, I should say. It will indeed be a marvel if they can contrive to avoid being drawn in by the vortex, even as Belgium was."
"We came into the war to help Belgium," remarked Tressidar. "Only——"
The Norwegian smiled blandly.
"My friend," he interrupted, "let me tell you something. The onlookers see most of the game. The cry about violating the neutrality of Belgium that your politicians are so fond of raising is mere clap-trap. It served its purpose to unite the various political factions in England, that was all. You English had a chance that might, perhaps, never occur again. It was a favourable chance to smash German militarism, and, luckily for you, you took it. Even if Belgium had not been involved, Great Britain would have ranged herself on the side of France and Russia. When big Empires wage war, little States do not count."
Tressidar merely inclined his head in assent. He, too, knew that the Norwegian spoke the truth. Long before the German troops set foot in Belgium the British Fleet was "standing fast" in readiness to help in the necessary task of freeing Europe, nay, the world, from the menace of Prussianism as preached by the disciples of kultur.
At daybreak the "Freya" rounded the Naze, the southernmost point of Norway. Ahead lay the broad waters of the Skager Rack. In normal times, following the breaking up of the ice, the sound would be dotted with vessels of all nationalities engaged in trade with the Baltic ports. Now not a sail was visible. The heavily sparred German timber ships, like the rest of the mercantile navy of Prussia, had long since been swept off the seas.
The quaint Russian barques, too, that were familiar in almost every British port of any size, were no longer to be seen. A few Swedish merchantmen, timorously hugging the Norwegian coast, might have been discerned had the weather been clear. Otherwise, save for the spectacular "dashes" of a few German warships—short cruises to cheer up the Huns in the belief that their navy did plough the high-seas—the Skager Rack presented almost as desolate an aspect as the Dead Sea.
The "Freya" hugged the shore closely, keeping well within the three-mile limit. Even at that distance the land was frequently obscured by patches of mist that drove slowly across the sea under the mild southerly wind.
Presently the tramp ran into a thick bank of fog. With a dangerous shore so close under her lee, it was imperative that every precaution should be taken to prevent her being carried out of her course by the strong indraught. Speed was reduced to a minimum necessary to carry steerage way, while the syren was kept going to warn possible approaching vessels of her presence.
Suddenly, like the passing of a compact cloud across the sun, the fog lifted. The ship was still within the three-mile limit, but between her and the Norwegian coast was a fleet of warships steaming rapidly in the same direction and on a parallel course that, if maintained, would bring them within a cable's length of the "Freya."
"By Jove!" exclaimed Tressidar. "They are German vessels."
He was right. There were three light cruisers steaming in line ahead. On either hand were lines of torpedo-boats, while overhead at an altitude of about one thousand feet flew two Zeppelins of the most recent type. The Huns, fearing submarine attack, were taking no unnecessary risks. They were cruising in neutral waters, but the German populace was not to know that.
"Keep your men well out of sight," cautioned the skipper. "Even the Norwegian flag flying in Norwegian waters would not be able to protect you."
As he spoke the leading torpedo-boat of the starboard division sounded her syren imperiously. By all the rules of the road at sea the tramp, being the overtaken vessel, was entitled to hold on her course; but it was evident that the German flotilla was attempting to edge the "Freya" beyond territorial waters, although for what reason none on board her could certainly conjecture.
Nearer and nearer drew the warships, without making the slightest attempt to alter helm. Their syrens were braying frantically. It reminded the sub. of a herd of cattle trying to shift a little dog that impeded their way.
If the "Freya's" skipper held on, he realised that he would give the imperious Huns cause for offence. Reluctantly he gave orders for the helm to be ported in order to yield to the palpably illegal tactics of the German ships.
As the tramp altered her course the starboard column of torpedo-boats did likewise, until they were heading south-east or almost at right angles to the coast-line. The "Freya" was being jockeyed beyond the three-mile limit.
The sub. knew that he and his men were in a tight corner. Should the tramp be compelled to hove-to there was no escape. They could not be passed off as passengers, since their names did not figure on the passenger list. Nor was the ship certified to carry any persons besides her officers and crew.
Tressidar dismissed the proposal that he and his men should hide in the hold. Searched the ship would certainly be, and he was not going to be ignominiously hauled out of the hold by a mob of Germans.
At length, in fact directly the tramp had passed the limit of territorial waters, the peremptory hail to stop instantly came from the nearmost German torpedo-boat, which promptly swung out of station and slowed down.
"I am sorry, but it is not my fault," exclaimed the Norwegian skipper to Tressidar as he telegraphed to the engine-room for half-speed astern.
"You did your best: you had no choice," replied the sub. "We must make the best of the situation."
While the German torpedo-boat was manoeuvring to come alongside (it saved the trouble of sending away a boarding-party), Tressidar sent a couple of seamen to fetch the rifles and ammunition from the cabin. These he dropped overboard. At least they would not be allowed to fall into the hands of the enemy.
Barely had this task been completed when a tall, full-faced, blond unter-leutnant appeared over the side, followed by half a dozen armed men.
Directly he caught sight of Tressidar and the British seamen he half hesitated, fearing a trap. Then, possibly realising that he had thirty German warships to back him up, he waxed bold, and fiercely twirling his fair moustache, haughtily demanded to know what these English swine were doing on board a Norwegian ship?
The skipper of the "Freya," who spoke German as fluently as he did English, explained briefly and to the point, saying that he had acted merely in the dictates of humanity.
"Then so much the worse for you," retorted the German officer.
He walked to the side and reported his find to his superior, the kapitan of the torpedo-boat. Great was the excitement on board, while the news was quickly transmitted by semaphore to the flagship, which happened to be one of the three light cruisers.
Tressidar and the cutter's crew were then ordered over the side and sent on board the torpedo-boat. A thorough search was then made of the "Freya" lest any more British officers and men might still be in hiding, but without result.
"Your vessel is a prize to the German Government," declared the unter-leutnant, addressing the Norwegian skipper.
"A prize?" repeated the master. "For why?"
"You are conveying contraband."
"We are not," protested the "Freya's" captain. "We have not touched at a British port. Our papers prove that. And our cargo is not contraband."
"I did not say contraband cargo," said the German with a leer. "Men can be contraband as well as stores. You had English seamen on board, therefore you are under arrest."
"We were in Norwegian waters when you overhauled us," declared the skipper.
"No," replied the German. "Well beyond the limit. But what is the use of your protesting You are under arrest and the vessel is a prize. If you do not know how to make the best of the business, I will have to show you."
So with a prize crew on board, the luckless "Freya," escorted by a torpedo-boat, was taken into the Elbe, while Tressidar found himself a prisoner of war in the hands of the Huns.