CHAPTER XI
VON PREUGFELD'S RESOLVE
"Donnerwetter! I am utterly sick of this business, Kaspar," whispered Seaman Furst. "It is the life of a dog, or worse. If this war is not over by the beginning of the winter there will be trouble amongst the unterseebooten crews."
"S'sh, not so loud," cautioned his companion, as the grumbler raised his voice towards the end of his tirade. "I agree with you, Hans. This game does not pay. We were told that we should save the Fatherland and bring England to her knees by our submarines. But have we? Just look! Here we are hungry, wet and unhappy, yet in England there is, they say, plenty. Just before we left Cuxhaven my wife had a letter from her brother who is a prisoner in England. He wrote and said that even our men who are held in captivity receive three good meals a day."
"That is what I do not understand," remarked Hans Furst. "If we are winning, as our officers tell us we are, how comes it that we cannot get eatable food? Of course, at the beginning of the war we were lucky. All we had to do was to run alongside an English merchantman, take what we wanted in the way of food and tobacco, and then sink her; but now——"
"But now," continued Kaspar Krauss, taking up the parable, "every strafed English ship has a gun, and one never knows but that a coasting vessel is not a death-trap for us. You remember that fishing-smack off Flamborough?"
Furst shuddered.
"Will I ever forget it?" he answered. "'Tis marvellous that we live to tell the tale. What would I not give for a life ashore with a tankard of Munich beer, a loaf of good bread and cheese? And tobacco—what is tobacco? I have almost forgotten."
"There was some in that Dutch vessel we burnt a week ago," said Krauss.
Furst clenched his fists.
"And where did it go?" he demanded. "That schweinhund our kapitan put it under lock and key. He and the pig-faced von Loringhoven smoke every night when we rise to recharge batteries, but never a cigar or a pipeful comes our way."
"We'll be back again on Friday if all goes well," said the other. "Then we can enjoy ourselves."
"Enjoy ourselves!" echoed Furst contemptuously. "How? I've got a bundle of notes in my belt, but precious little use are they. In the good old days a mark was a mark, but now——"
"Yes, I know," snarled Krauss. "Just before the war I came back from America on the George Washington with eight hundred and fifty marks to my name. I was going to buy a small business in Bremen and settle down to a life ashore. I should have done well. Then came the war. The rascally swindlers told us that if we lent our money to the State it would be repaid with twenty-five per cent. when peace was proclaimed. Just imagine! I handed over my eight hundred marks in silver, fool that I was! Even supposing the government does pay me back a thousand marks, it will be in rotten paper money, and I know that five thousand now will not buy the place I had offered to me for eight hundred and fifty four years ago."
"There will be trouble," agreed Furst. "Do you know that there is a movement amongst the men of the U-boats' crews to hoist the Red Flag?"
"Have I not heard of it!" exclaimed Kaspar grimly. "And when the time comes here is one who will jump at the opportunity. Now, at——"
The clang of a gong interrupted the discourse. The men jumped up smartly. The cast-iron discipline of the German Navy was as yet too powerful a force to be flouted by embryo revolutionists.
"Empty two and four tanks," came a guttural order through a voice tube. "And be quick about it, you numskulls!"
U 247 was preparing to rise to the surface in order to verify her position. For several hours she had rested on the bottom, scared by the presence of a swarm of destroyers and M.L.'s which had hurried to avenge the bombardment of Aberspey.
The material damage to the little town had been slight—almost negligible—for the majority of the shells had fallen in open spaces. Two people had been slightly injured by flying fragments. Actual destruction of military property was nil. Financially the bombardment was a failure. The cost of the ammunition far exceeded that of the damage; but morally an insult had been offered to the island shores of Britain, and the destroyer flotillas were quick to avenge the affront.
Ober-leutnant Hans von Preugfeld, kapitan of U 247, had acted with great discretion after his brave bombardment of Aberspey. "Legging it," submerged for several miles, he allowed the submarine to lie on the bottom for a considerable period. Then, hearing no suspicious sounds, he had the motors restarted and, the while submerged, shifted his position a good five miles. At length, assuming that it was safe to blow ballast-tanks and come to the surface, he gave the necessary orders.
Directly a patch of white light showed upon the object-bowl of the periscope, signifying that the tip of the latter had "broken surface," von Preugfeld made a cautious survey. Through nearly three hundred degrees the periscope revolved. Then, abruptly, the kapitan checked the rotary movement of the training-wheel.
"Come here, Eitel!" he exclaimed peremptorily.
Von Preugfeld stood aside to allow the unter-leutnant to view the object that had attracted his superior's attention.
"Come now," said the ober-leutnant irritably. "What do you make of it?"
"It is a vessel of some kind, Herr Kapitan," replied Eitel von Loringhoven.
"Of course it is," snapped von Preugfeld. "Any fool could see that. What I want to know is: what sort of craft is it? Stand aside if you cannot do better than that."
"It is a long, low-lying craft painted black," resumed Loringhoven, retaining his place at the periscope in order to ingratiate himself in the eyes of his commanding officer. "There are men standing aft. Amidships I can see a small sail—it may be that there is a sailing boat alongside."
"That's better," remarked von Preugfeld, literally pushing the unter-leutnant aside. "Port helm fifteen degrees," he ordered. "A touch ahead with both motors."
The U-boat shuddered under the beats of the twin screws, then forging slowly ahead approached the puzzling object.
"Stop!"
A bell clanged somewhere in the confined recesses of the modern pirate craft. At a curt nod from the kapitan the quartermaster pulled over a lever which had the effect of actuating the twin horizontal rudders. Once more the periscope reared its sinister head above the waves.
"Ach! I see men in uniform," exclaimed von Preugfeld. "We must be cautious. Men in khaki," he continued, scratching his closely cropped head in perplexity. "I cannot understand it. Look again, Eitel: can you see if she carries any guns or torpedo-tubes?"
"None, as far as I can see, Herr Kapitan," replied von Loringhoven after a careful scrutiny. "To me it looks as if she is sinking. Her stern is well down. Yes, there is a sailing-boat alongside or close to her. The boat is moving ahead."
"We will submerge and come up again on the other side," declared von Preugfeld. "We may then solve the mystery. Down to ten metres," he ordered.
Bubbling with latent insubordination, Furst and Krauss at their posts at the auxiliary ballast-tank valves obeyed promptly. In spite of all their revolutionary tendencies and expressions of general "fed-uppedness," they realised that their lives depended upon the prompt execution of their hated superior's orders. Knowing nothing of what was going on without, they submitted to discipline as the only remedy for their present predicament. After a period of ten minutes' total submergence the periscope shoved its squat snout above the surface—like a reluctant puppy about to receive a hiding. When a periscope is in danger of getting a blinding blow in the shape of a six-pounder shell, or the hull to which it belongs is liable to be pulverised by a trio of torpedoes, the need for extreme caution becomes apparent.
"They have not observed us," muttered von Preugfeld with fervent gratitude to the providence that looks after Hun submarines. "There's 'X 5' painted on her bows. Know what that means, Eitel?"
Von Loringhoven confessed that he did not. In spite of a careful perusal of all works dealing with numbers and nomenclature of British shipping—and Berlin was kept fairly up-to-date in such matters—the mystic symbol "X 5" was to him an unknown quantity. Incidentally it recalled days when he was studying mathematics at the Kiel Naval College.
The ober-leutnant steadied the periscope and touched a switch. Immediately, by the introduction of a special lens, the "field" covered by the eye-piece of the periscope was reduced, but the object actually seen was considerably magnified. It was like looking through a telescope.
"They are men of the English Air Force," he observed. "I believe—here, Eitel, look—the man walking for'ard. What do you make of him?"
"Donnerwetter!" ejaculated von Loringhoven. "Surely it is our friend von Preussen?"
"Yes," replied the ober-leutnant. "Von Preussen playing the part of a Jonah to an English whale. I wonder what he does there?"
"It would be well to clear out and leave him alone, Herr Kapitan," suggested von Loringhoven. "It could only be that von Preussen is engaged in highly important confidential work that brings him afloat again. Himmel! He is a clever fellow."
The ober-leutnant tugged at his moustache thoughtfully. Eager to have a finger in any pie without the risk of burning himself, he was loth to take his subordinate's advice. Here, apparently, was an unarmed craft, crewless, with the exception of a few officers. To him it suggested that highly confidential experiments were being carried on—so important that no one beneath the rank of officer was permitted to be present. Perhaps they were staff officers of high rank?
Eagerly von Preugfeld kept each man under observation. The trench-coats gave no indication of their wearers' rank, but —disappointing fact—none of the officers wore gilt leaves round the peaks of their caps. The sailing-boat alongside was also a puzzle. Why should the experimenters make use of an insignificant sailing-boat when there were steam pinnaces and motor launches available?
"Stand by!" he ordered. "Guns' crews prepare to take your stations. Blow main and auxiliary tanks."
Bells clanged, valves hissed and pumps grated, men hurried to and fro in execution of loud-voiced orders.
Von Preugfeld turned to his unter-leutnant.
"Bring her up," he ordered. "I am going to take those fellows prisoners."