CHAPTER XX
THE END OF U 247
"It seems as if Old Man Morpeth's keen on taking all the Auldhaig crush for a joyride," said Meredith, as he shook hands with Cumberleigh and was introduced by the latter to the other R.A.F. officers.
Both Wakefield and the R.N.V.R. Sub knew most of the staff at Auldhaig Air Station by sight, while Meredith had met Cumberleigh on several occasions, both officially and socially, as they were members of the same club.
"The world is small," quoth Cumberleigh. "All the same, I hardly expected to tumble across you half way across the North Sea. What are you doing on this hooker?"
"Supernumeraries," replied Wakefield. "Same as you. Unless anything unforeseen takes place, I fancy we're off to German waters on a particular stunt."
"Hope there won't be too many underwater stunts," said Blenkinson. "I've had enough submarine work during the last twenty-four hours to last me a lifetime. Give me an old 'bus at five thousand feet any day."
"There'll be no under-water performances this trip, I hope," remarked Wakefield gravely. "If there is, it will be a case with us."
"Is that so?" asked Cumberleigh. "I thought this was a captured U-boat."
"So did I once upon a time," said Wakefield, and he briefly explained Q 171's true rôle.
The five officers were standing aft watching the transhipment of the mutineers. Morpeth and Sub-lieutenant Ainslie were far too busy to pay any attention to the released captives. The R.N.R. skipper was alertly watching events, ready to cope with any sinister designs on the part of Fritz, while Ainslie was superintending the task of clapping the surrendered Huns under hatches.
With a good knowledge of German—it was mainly on that account that he was appointed to Q 171—Ainslie soon obtained the mutineers' carefully concocted account of what had happened to merit their tame surrender; what was more, he literally "knocked the stuffing out of them" by informing them that their precious yarn was all eye-wash, and that Ober-leutnant von Preugfeld and Unter-leutnant von Loringhoven had been picked up and were now on board as prisoners of war. Yet with the Hun's typical effrontery Hans Furst coolly told the examination officer that after the war he proposed to settle in England, become naturalised, and make plenty of money.
"The English," he added "will be grateful to me when they learn that I threw the German officers overboard."
While the cross-questioning of the mutineers was in progress Morpeth was taking steps to destroy the prize.
"You might have a look round before we send her to the bottom," he said to Wakefield, who jumped at the suggestion.
So Wakefield, Meredith and three of the Q-boat's crew manned the collapsible dinghy belonging to the captured submarine and boarded the prize.
A hasty examination showed that no attempt had been made to play tricks with the sea-cocks, nor had Fritz, according to his usual custom, placed bombs with time-fuses in the hold. It was another example of the lack of a master. So intent had the Huns been to save their own skins that they took not the faintest precaution to prevent the confidential signal-book, log-book and other documents from falling into the hands of their enemy.
"It's a pity to have to scuttle her," remarked Meredith regretfully, as he surveyed the complicated array of mechanism. "It would be just my mark to navigate her to Auldhaig under a prize crew."
"No doubt, Sub," rejoined Wakefield drily. "But unfortunately there are objections. Morpeth's short-handed although he's choc-a-block with useless passengers. We couldn't make the Hun mechanics take on in the engine-room. On the way, even supposing you tackled the job, there's a risk of falling in with a Boche U-boat, or a greater risk of being torpedoed or bombed by our destroyers and aircraft. No doubt Cumberleigh and the R.A.F. fellows would bear a hand, but they're amateurs at the game. We should be if we were called upon to navigate a coastal airship."
"And we should be out of Morpeth's big stunt," added Meredith. "Having gone so far I should be sorry to miss it."
"Exactly," agreed the R.N.V.R. lieutenant. "So U 247 must go to Davy Jones. I think we've seen everything of importance."
The U-boat was to be scuttled by opening the under-water valves. Destruction by means of explosives was undesirable, as the report might bring inquisitive craft upon the scene, and Q 171 was for the nonce a sort of social pariah and liable to be fired upon by British patrol boats, which acted upon the principle of shoot quick and shoot straight at anything resembling a German submarine.
Ordering the boat's crew to stand by, Wakefield went below once more. By the aid of an electric torch, for the internal lighting arrangements had given out, he found the levers that operated the big valves. So great was the inrush of water that Wakefield fancied he would be trapped by the miniature Niagara. Without waiting to manipulate the second sea-cock, he hastened precipitately on deck and followed Meredith into the dinghy.
"Done the trick?" inquired Morpeth, as the two R.N.V.R. officers regained the mystery ship. "She doesn't seem in a hurry."
Nor was she. It seemed quite a long time before the volume of water admitted into the U-boat's hull made any visible change in her trim. At length her freeboard diminished. She began to settle by the stern.
"I suppose you made certain that there were no other prisoners of war on board?" inquired Captain Cumberleigh.
"Trust me for that," replied Wakefield. "Why did you ask?"
"Because I'm rather mystified about a fellow who called himself Captain Fennelburt. He was with us when von Preugfeld collared us. One of the mutineers pitched me a yarn to the effect that von Preugfeld set him ashore. If so, what was the motive?"
"I'll see Morpeth about it," decided Wakefield.
"Ask von Preugfeld," suggested the skipper. "I can't do so myself just at present. Make him own up, and don't stand any nonsense."
Cumberleigh, Wakefield and Blenkinson went below to interview the prisoner. They acted on Morpeth's tip and stood on no ceremony. Time was a consideration, as the U-boat was sinking and they wanted to see the end.
Wakefield came straight to the point.
"I understand, Kapitan von Preugfeld," he said sternly, "that you had on board another prisoner, a Captain Fennelburt of the R.A.F. He was not found when we searched U 247. Now where is he?"
"You ask him," replied von Preugfeld, indicating von Loringhoven.
"I do not know," protested the unter-leutnant, "but he does."
Evidently von Loringhoven was getting pretty sick of being made a convenience of by his egotistical skipper.
Wakefield's brows lowered. There was an ominous glint in his eye.
"I give you five seconds," he said darkly. "Otherwise, if you refuse to tell me, back you go on board U 247. I might add that she is sinking. Now: one... two... three... four—-"
"I tell you!" exclaimed von Preugfeld. "All I tell you. Der offizier he try to escape. He vos shot. It is der rules of der war."
"Unfortunately for the statement," interposed Captain Cumberleigh, "I heard from one of your men that you landed him early this morning."
"In dat case," rejoined von Preugfeld, shrugging his shoulders, "why you ask me? You take der word of a common sailor instead of a Prussian offizier—a von Preugfeld? I tell you he lie."
Wakefield turned his back upon the bullying Prussian.
"It's evident that there was no other British officer on board," he remarked to his companions. "We'll go into the matter later. Come along, if we are to see the last of U 247."
The door was locked upon the prisoners, and the three officers hurried on deck. Q 171 was forging ahead, moving in wide circles around the sinking pirate craft.
By this time the U-boat had dipped her stern. Waves were lapping along her deck as far as the after quick-firer. Her stem was correspondingly raised until the bow tubes were visible above water.
Higher and higher rose the submarine's bows. Tons of water were flung into her hull through the open after-hatch. Compressed air was hissing loudly. Little rivulets of iridescent oil were forming on the surface. Occasionally interior fittings, giving way under the ever-increasing pressure, creaked and groaned to add to the discordant noises of the sinking craft.
Then, with a shuddering movement, the U-boat slithered under the water. For a brief instant her bows stood almost on end. A column of water, forced by the terrific pressure through the fore-hatch, spurted a good fifty feet, ejecting with it a quantity of debris and oil.
"Bon voyage!" exclaimed Wakefield.
A turmoil of agitated water marked the spot where the submarine disappeared. For a full minute the maelstrom surged and swirled, then, overcome by the liberation of tons of heavy oil, the disturbed water died down, leaving in its place an ever-increasing patch of multi-hued colours. Forty fathoms down the submarine had made a permanent acquaintance with the bed of the North Sea.
"Well, any luck?" inquired Morpeth, who, having left Ainslie in charge, had rejoined his unofficial guests in the ward-room. "What did you get out of von Preugfeld?"
"Precious little," admitted Wakefield. "He tried to hedge. We'll have to confront him with some of his mutineering men."
"I'll find out if there's any reference to the mysterious captain in this," said the R.N.R. skipper, holding up U 247's log-book. "Any of you fellows read the lingo?"
"Sorry," replied Meredith.
"You needn't be, old son," rejoined Morpeth. "I can't an' don't want to, although just now it would come in mighty handy. Some years back the Foul Anchor Line turned me down when I wanted a job as Second Officer on one of their crack boats because I couldn't speak German. They were carrying a lot of German passengers and South Americans at that time. Another fellow—Campbell was his name—got the billet 'cause he'd gained a first prize for German on a cadet training-ship. First trip he piled the old hooker aground off the entrance to Rio Harbour, 'and a dozen or more Huns got drowned."
"So you were glad you didn't get the appointment after all?" asked Cumberleigh.
"Rather," agreed Morpeth, with a laugh. "Not that I'd have put the ship aground. Guess I know that part of the South American coast too well. But, looking back on it, young Campbell was a patriot, only he didn't know it. We might have had another dozen Huns to fight. But to get back to business: here's this log wants looking into, and it's young Ainslie's trick. He's the Hun lingoist."
"I'll have a shot at it," volunteered Captain Cumberleigh. "I was in Germany. ...Long before the war," he added apologetically, speaking with the weight of experience of twenty-two years.
He opened the log-book at the last-written page.
"'Fraid it won't help us much," he announced. "Apparently it doesn't go beyond 8 A.M. of the 15th—that is the morning of the day they collared us. By Jove! Morpeth, you've caught a much-wanted specimen. Von Preugfeld's the fellow who torpedoed the hospital ship Columbine and the Camperdown Castle."
"The Lord have mercy on his soul, then!" said Morpeth solemnly.