CHAPTER XXVI
A FIGHT TO A FINISH
IT was two days later that the "Georgeos Nikolaos" ran under the stern of the "Andromeda," and the astute von Loringhoven had detected the raison d'être of what appeared to be at first sight a nondescript Mediterranean trading felucca. In happy ignorance of what had occurred the "Georgeos Nikolaos" carried on with a fair amount of success, never turning the tables on a U-boat until she was practically certain of making a proper job of the business.
On the thirteenth day after leaving Malta the felucca turned her bows westward. Provisions were showing signs of running short, while the crowded state of the little craft made it undesirable to keep the seas for any great length of time.
With a following wind the "Georgeos Nikolaos," carrying all sail, footed it merrily. Provided the breeze held, another five days ought to see her safely in the Grand Harbour.
"We haven't done so badly, sir," remarked Mr. Gripper, pointing to the heads of five brightly polished brass nails which were driven into the tiller, each nail representing a "bag." "Although I says it as shouldn't, it's something to be proud of. We may get another Fritz to-day. It's our thirteenth day out, and thirteen is my lucky number."
"Is that so?" asked the sub, not with any particular display of enthusiasm. It was the mere idea of being able to talk that prompted him, for beyond a few necessary orders Farrar hardly exchanged a word when the warrant officer was not on deck, for the medico, being of a very retiring nature, spent most of his leisure hours below, "swotting" at scientific books.
"Fact," declared the gunner vehemently, as if wishing to push home an unacceptable truth. "I entered Greenwich School on the thirteenth, an' got my warrant rank thirteen years later. It was November 13th, two years ago, when we torpedoed the German light cruiser 'Pelikan,' and my share of the prize money, awarded thirteen months later, was £130, which is ten times thirteen. So I'm in hopes of pulling off something to-day."
"Let's hope so," added Farrar.
"Hope so, sir? It's more than a question of hope. There, didn't I say so?" he added as a seaman raised the shout of "Submarine on the starboard bow, sir."
There was no doubt about it. Quite four miles away, but showing up clearly in the slanting rays of the rising sun, was a large submarine running on the surface, although the curvature of the sea permitted only the conning tower to be visible.
"She's heading this way—straight for us," said the gunner gleefully. "Wonder if it's her thirteenth day?"
"Up helm, quartermaster," ordered the sub. "We'll have to lure her a bit."
The felucca was turned until she lay on a northerly course. Almost immediately afterwards the U-boat altered helm, until she was running in the same direction as her prey, but without making any effort to decrease the distance.
"Hanged if I like that at all," soliloquised Nigel. "Looks as if she smells a rat. 'Bout ship," he shouted. "Down helm."
The "Georgeos Nikolaos" tacked and lay close hauled in exactly the opposite direction to the course she had previously taken. The U-boat followed suit, but still refused to close. She flew no ensign, hoisted no signal—merely "marking time" on the felucca.
"What's she fooling about like that for, sir?" asked Mr. Gripper. "Is she funking it?"
"It's my belief that she's suspicious of something," replied the sub. "She's waiting till the sun is a bit higher. At present it's right behind us. Shouldn't be surprised if she started to shell us."
"It's a tidy range for our quick-firers," remarked the gunner dubiously. "Ten thousand yards; wonder if her guns are effective at that distance?"
A moment later the screech of a projectile was heard overhead, followed by the detonation of the U-boat's gun. The shell, striking the sea nearly a thousand yards beyond the felucca, ricochetted four or five times before finally disappearing beneath the surface.
The gunner gave a low whistle.
"That's some shot, Mr. Gripper," observed Nigel.
"It is, sir," agreed the warrant officer. "A high velocity and a flat trajectory. Did you notice something very peculiar? The projectile passed over us before we heard the report."
"Meaning that the velocity of the shell is greater than that of the sound."
"That's it, sir. Something new as far as U-boats' guns go."
Having made a trial shot the submarine fired again. This time the shell fell short, ricochetting and passing within fifty yards of the felucca's stern.
"She means business," declared Farrar. "There's only one thing to be done. Since she can do a good sixteen knots we can't give her the slip, so we'll try and close. Hoist the ensign. Bow gun open fire."
Sighted at the maximum elevation the felucca's four-inch replied to the U-boat's challenge. The projectile fell hopelessly short. Again the quick-firer spoke, with similar results. The gun was decidedly outranged.
For nearly twenty minutes the U-boat withheld her fire, maintaining her distance, and at the same time describing an arc of a circle in order to take advantage of the position of the sun. An overfed bulldog might just as well attempt to chase a greyhound as the felucca to close with her opponent.
With the White Ensign streaming proudly in the breeze the "Georgeos Nikolaos" maintained her vain attempt, firing with both guns at regular intervals. She was in a tight corner, for when the Hun settled down to work the result would be a foregone conclusion, unless aid from another source were speedily forthcoming. Already the felucca's wireless was sending out messages, but no responsive crackling came in reply to her call. The U-boat was jamming the wireless waves by means of her more powerful installation.
The men, although fully acquainted with their hazardous position, were in high spirits, laughing and chaffing as they lay prone upon the deck, for with the exception of the bluejackets serving the quick-firers they had been ordered to take the frail shelter provided by the felucca's bulwarks.
The "Georgeos Nikolaos" was now bows on to her opponent. Although unable to gain on the U-boat she nevertheless presented a smaller target than had she exposed the whole of her broadside. Under sail and power she was doing a good eleven knots, but it was practically useless compared with the submarine's sixteen or seventeen.
Suddenly a cloud of black smoke rose from the U-boat's deck. When it dispersed under the force of the stiff breeze Fritz was no longer to be seen.
"She's gone an' busted!" shouted an exuberant bluejacket, and the men gave vent to a cheer. Their satisfaction increased when, nearly half an hour later, the felucca sailed through a large patch of oil in the midst of which were floating some charred pieces of wood and several canvas-covered caps.
"A sixth nail in the tiller, sir," remarked the warrant officer. "Our thirteenth day out, you'll remember."
"Not so sure about it, Mr. Gripper," objected the sub. "In any case, we didn't strafe her. Ah! I thought so," he exclaimed, as the twin periscopes of the U-boat appeared at a distance of less than five hundred yards in the felucca's wake. "Wing her, Sampson."
The submarine was playing with her prey like a cat with a mouse. Under the camouflage of the clouds of smoke she dived, to reappear—this time astern of the "Georgeos Nikolaos."
Smart as was the gunlayer of the after quick-firer, the U-boat was smarter. Before the weapon could be swung round and the sights adjusted she had disappeared again.
When after a considerable interval the U-boat broke surface she was well out of range of the felucca's guns, although quite within a striking distance with her own, for a shell burst within a stone's throw of the British craft's quarter, the flying fragments knocking splinters from the bulwarks and holing the sails in twenty different places.
At Mr. Gripper's suggestion a tar-barrel with a long pole wedged into the bung-hole, and so weighted that the pole floated vertically, was quickly rigged up and thrown overboard. For a while it served its purpose, for the pursuing U-boat, spotting what appeared to be a periscope, sheered off until she had wasted half a dozen shells before blowing the barrel into a thousand fragments.
Then, her patience being exhausted, the U-boat set to work in grim earnest to pulverise the felucca. Completely outranged and outclassed, the "Georgeos Nikolaos" nevertheless put up a gallant fight, although none of her shells went within half a mile of her foe.
A direct hit brought both masts down, littering her deck with splinters, shouldering canvas, and a tangle of ropes. The ponderous lateen yards trailing over the side set up a drag against which the motor was powerless, and describing a quadrant of a circle the felucca lost way, broadside on to her assailant.
Already several of the men were stricken to the deck, some slain outright, others writhing in agony from severe splinter wounds. Amid the flying fragments of shells the youthful doctor set to work to render first aid, coolly heedless of the fact that the felucca was doomed.
The "Georgeos Nikolaos" was sinking. She was also on fire for'ard. The bow gun, with its disappearing mountings, had "disappeared" in a most unorthodox way, having been completely blown overboard, together with the men who served it. Yet not a soul on board gave one thought of surrendering. Although with few exceptions members of the auxiliary service, they were fully imbued with the glorious traditions of the White Ensign. So long as a plank remained under their feet, they were grimly determined to fight on, working the remaining gun in stubborn defiance, yet the while conscious that they were firing for firing's sake since the comparatively puny weapon was innocuous to the foe.
A fragment of shell struck down the gunner as he stood at Farrar's side. It was a dangerous wound, but beyond an ashy greyness of his features the staunch warrant officer gave no indication of his physical pain.
"Dash it all!" he exclaimed. "My luck's changed this trip—and the thirteenth too!" and straightway relapsed into unconsciousness.
A steady flow of warm fluid trickled over the sub's right eyebrow. Under the impression that it was perspiration he mopped it with his handkerchief, to discover that blood was running from a clean cut on his forehead. In the excitement he had failed to experience any sensation of pain when a splinter of flying metal struck him a glancing blow.
At length the U-boat ceased firing, for the felucca's after gun had been put out of action by a direct hit upon the open breech-block that had destroyed the intercepted thread-locking arrangement. Yet it seemed rather unusual for a Hun, getting the best of things, to cease fire as long as there was anything in the nature of a target to aim at.
One glance showed the sub the reason. The White Ensign had been blown away.
Another ensign was soon forthcoming. With one hand Farrar lashed it to a boat-hook staff, and defiantly displayed the emblem of freedom.
Fritz's reply was not long in coming. A shell struck the "Georgeos Nikolaos" just abaft the stump of the foremast, playing havoc on board and tearing a hole 'twixt wind and water. It was the coup de grâce. Half stifled by the pungent fumes of the T.N.T., his vision affected by the noxious smoke, the sub found himself striking out in a turmoil of broken water amidst a dozen or more of his devoted crew.
As the smoke dispersed, drifting in eddying clouds far to leeward, Farrar was able to obtain a clearer view of his surroundings. All around, the surface of the agitated sea was thick with pieces of timber of various sizes and shapes. Planks from the still-sinking vessel were shooting upwards through the air with terrific violence, to fall again and strike the water with resounding smacks. Twenty yards away floated the felucca's boat that had been wrenched from its securing lashings as the craft sank. It was keel upwards, a portion of the stern had been shattered, and there were other injuries from shell fire. No longer seaworthy the boat still served a purpose by supporting four or five bluejackets who were clinging to her bilge-keels.
A little farther away was the large part of the foremast with the lateen yards, and some of the scorched canvas still secured. Several men were already astride the spar, while others, some pushing planks before them, were making for the frail place of safety.
"Here's our skipper, lads!" shouted Sampson, who, with a stained bandage round his forehead and another encircling his left arm above the elbow, was astride the spar and busily engaged in securing planks to form a rough-and-ready raft. "Come on, sir; there's plenty of room in the stalls."
"I'm rather late for the performance, I think," replied the sub, recognising that cheerfulness would go a long way to "winning through."
"Not a bit of it, sir," replied the gun-layer. "The blessed overture's only just finished. Show that gentleman to one of the front seats, please. Sorry the programmes ain't printed, sir; put it down to shortage of paper."
Assisted by a couple of seamen, for the sub's strength had been heavily taxed, Farrar was lifted on to a long plank lashed between the yard and the broken foremast. Of the felucca's crew there were about twenty survivors, all showing visible tokens of the merciless shell fire. Mr. Gripper, still unconscious, was lying on the highest part of the raft; even there the waves were continually breaking over him, requiring the constant attention of a couple of hands to prevent his being washed into the sea. The surgeon-probationer was missing, inquiry eliciting the information that he was attending a badly wounded man in the main hold when the felucca foundered.
The survivors were, for the most part, boisterously cheerful—almost idiotically so. The disaster gave them a chance of breaking away from the restraint of shipboard, and like a crowd of children unexpectedly let out of school, they joked, chaffed each other, and even engaged in horseplay as they worked to make good their crazy raft.
Meanwhile the U-boat was standing by at a distance of a little less than a mile. Her deck was crowded, the crew coming up from below to gloat over their glorious victory, while on the conning-tower platform a group of officers was intently watching by means of telescopes and binoculars the efforts of the felucca's survivors.
This was practically the only part of the affair that riled the British bluejackets. They had groused when the U-boat had refused to throw away the advantage of her superior ordnance; they had taken their gruelling like true specimens of the bulldog breed; they realised that it was quite playing the game for the Hun to strafe them and "get her own back" on the armed felucca for her activity in ridding the sea of a few pirate craft. But the survivors objected strongly to Fritz standing by and jeering at their sorry plight. According to British notions it wasn't playing the game. Abandon the helpless men to their fate—that is expected of the Hun—but to remain within sight and crow over them, was almost as bad as if the U-boat had kept on firing until the massacre was completed.
"The best part of the day is before us, lads!" exclaimed their youthful skipper, although the tone of his voice sounded strained and unnatural. Now that the heat of the fight was over he was feeling the effects of his wound. There had been comparatively little loss of blood, and this had the effect of increasing the pain of the contusion, while the tightly adjusted bandage seemed to cut into his forehead.
"That's so, sir," replied one of the men. "But it's a long, long way to Malta. Guess we're making half a knot, sir."
"Wot's Fritz up to now?" inquired another, pointing in the direction of the hostile submarine.
The U-boat was forging ahead straight for the raft. Most of her crew were below, the others, save for the men at the for'ard quick-firer, were mustered aft.
At a cable's length away from the handful of survivors from the "Georgeos Nikolaos" she reversed engines, losing way within easy hailing distance. There were three officers on the navigating platform—a short man in the uniform of a kapitan-leutnant, an unter-leutnant, and a third in a great-coat, but showing no badges of rank.
"Where have I seen that josser before?" pondered Farrar. "By Jove, I have it! Von Loringhoven!"
The recognition was mutual, for the supernumerary officer pointed to the British sublieutenant and spoke a few rapid sentences to the kapitan-leutnant of the U-boat.
The latter turned and rapped out an order in hasty, guttural tones. With the utmost alacrity half a dozen hands unfolded a canvas boat, and launched her from the U-boat's deck. Manned by two seamen and the unter-leutnant, who held the tiller in one hand and ostentatiously brandished an automatic pistol in the other, the boat pulled towards the raft.
"You prisoner are," announced the German officer, addressing the sub. "Mit me you come must in dis boat."
"Let's fight it to a finish, sir," whispered Sampson. "We can do in this brass-bound swanker, and I reckon with his pistol I'll be able to score off those grinning Fritzes before we're knocked out."
Farrar shook his head.
"It's no use offering further resistance, Sampson," he replied. "They evidently require me rather badly. I don't want the hands to make any demonstration to upset the Huns. They seem pretty bad tempered as it is."
"Haste make!" snarled the unter-leutnant.
"Good luck, men!" exclaimed the sub. "I hope to see you again soon."
He stepped into the boat and was taken alongside the submarine. Under the direction of the unter-leutnant, the prisoner was removed below, hatches were battened down, and the disappearing guns lowered into the water-tight house. Judging by the kapitan-leutnant's excited orders the U-boat was in a hurry. She dived steeply and was lost to sight.
For some moments the handful of bluejackets on the raft gazed at the swirl that marked the spot where the U-boat had disappeared; then Sampson gave vent to a loud shout.
"Hurrah, my hearties!" he announced. "Here comes a destroyer."
The men cheered, but not with their customary vigour, for they remembered that they had lost their young commanding officer.
"An' another five minutes would have made all the difference," said one sententiously.
"No wonder Fritz was in a bloomin' hurry."