CHAPTER XXI
BLUFFED
"However," remarked Cumberleigh briskly, "the Columbine business hasn't anything to do with friend Fennelburt. We get no forrarder."
"I don't know so much about that," demurred Morpeth. "I'll use it as a lever to prize a secret out of this von Preugfeld. We'll have him up here and give him the shock of his life."
The R.N.R. officer touched a bell.
"Take a couple of hands and bring the U-boat skipper here," he ordered.
"Say, Skipper," remarked Cumberleigh, who had been skimming the pages of the log-book, "here's a rummy entry:—'2 A.M. Landed von Preussen.' Who's von Preussen, and where else could he have been landed except on the Scottish coast? One minute."
He turned over more leaves rapidly, nevertheless scanning the sloping, flourish-embellished words.
"No mention of this von Preussen having been taken on board again," he continued. "First this fellow and this Fennelburt are landed—that is, if the German bluejacket's yarn is correct. Will you allow me to commence the examination, Skipper?"
"Tough Geordie's" weather-lined face wrinkled with a smile.
"By all means," he replied. "I'm not much of a hand at talky-talky. The best argument I used in the Foul Anchor Line was a big boot. Dagoes and Dutchies understood that. Stand by; they're bringing the swine in."
Kapitan von Preugfeld entered jauntily. He had imagined, judging from the result of the previous interview, that he had completely bluffed his captors on the subject of Captain Fennelburt, and that, if he persisted in his story, he would emerge triumphant from the ordeal.
Cumberleigh came to the point at once. "I'm anxious to know," he remarked, "what connection there is between Leutnant Karl von Preussen of the Prussian Guards and Captain George Fennelburt of the British Air Force. You can enlighten me, Herr Kapitan, and I await your explanation."
Attacked from a totally unexpected quarter, von Preugfeld's defences were literally rushed.
"I know not," he replied sullenly.
"Try again," persisted Cumberleigh.
"Der Teufel! vot you mean?" asked the U-boat commander.
"Mean? This," replied Cumberleigh, holding up U 247's log-book. "Here is one entry:—'2 A.M. Landed von Preussen.' That is in your handwriting."
Von Preugfeld was forced to admit the truth of the impeachment.
"It was practically the last entry you made," continued Cumberleigh, "but there are more, apparently written by your subordinate officer. I'll read some:—'5 P.M. Broke surface. Found large barge, X 5, derelict. Took off her as prisoners three English officers'—not four, you'll note. There certainly were four in R.A.F. uniforms. Now again:—'4.10 A.M. Set von Preussen ashore.' It's perfectly obvious that if von Preussen were set ashore twice he must have come on board during that interval. There is no mention of your vessel communicating with the shore between the two times you mentioned. So I put it to you that von Preussen and Fennelburt are one and the same person."
The Hun's face grew pale. Beads of perspiration oozed from his forehead.
"A curse on von Loringhoven!" he muttered in German. "His lack of caution has spoiled everything." Then in broken English he added: "I call you to make testimony. It vos not I dat betray von Preussen. It vos mein unter-leutnant, von Loringhoven."
"That's all we wanted to know," rejoined Captain Cumberleigh quietly. "I might add, however, that it is hardly playing the game to put the blame upon your subordinate. Perhaps it is a way Prussian officers have, so it would not be surprising to hear that, later on, you will blame him for torpedoing the hospital ship Columbine and the unarmed liner Camperdown Castle. Think it over."
He turned to Lieutenant-Commander Morpeth.
"Any further questions you want to ask, sir?" he inquired, with strict formality.
"No," replied Morpeth. "Take him away."
The sliding door closed on the prisoner. "Tough Geordie" turned to the successful amateur barrister.
"By Jove, Cumberleigh," he exclaimed, "you bowled him out this time! But I thought you said that the log-book wasn't up to date."
"Neither was it," admitted Cumberleigh, passing his cigarette-case. "I took the liberty of imagining that it was and ascribing the authorship to that little worm of a von Loringhoven."
The R.A.F. captain was flushed with pleasure at his triumph. He had vindicated himself concerning his doubts of "Fennelburt's" genuineness. Until he had done so he was considerably uneasy in his mind, for he hated a suspicious nature.
"I suppose you can wireless the information to Auldhaig?" he continued. "Goodness only knows what that spy might be up to before he's laid by the heels!"
Morpeth shook his head.
"Sorry," he replied. "It can't be did. We mustn't get ourselves into the cart over our forthcoming stunt for the sake of putting a stopper on a spy. You see, we don't know who might tap the wireless. Fritz might, and that would make him horribly suspicious."
"Is there no other way to communicate with Auldhaig?" asked Cumberleigh.
"Possibly," admitted the R.N.R. officer. "We might send a code message by the first vessel we fall in with. I don't as a rule want to speak a vessel, unless she's a Fritz, and then I do more than speak. But I can't carry on with this crowd of Huns on board. Must get rid of them somehow, and the best plan will be to tranship them. Then'll be your chance to pass the word about your pal 'Fennelburt.'"
The conference then dissolved, Morpeth and the R.A.F. fellows turning in for a much needed sleep, while Wakefield and Meredith went on deck.
About half an hour later the look-out reported smoke away to the north-east. In ordinary circumstances Q 171 would have held on, purposely avoiding the stranger. But now she altered helm, steering a course to intercept the ship.
It was fairly reasonable to suppose that the as yet invisible vessel was not a Hun. German surface craft were rare birds in these waters. When they did come out they appeared in force, accompanied by a Zeppelin or two to give them plenty of warning should a British patrolling squadron appear. She might be a disguised German raider, but these generally chose to sneak along the Norwegian coast and gain mid-Atlantic by a circuitous route.
Before long the oncoming vessel appeared above the horizon, and presently by the aid of binoculars it was seen that she was a large Norwegian tramp.
"That's good!" exclaimed Morpeth, who had been roused from his slumbers by the announcement of the tramp's approach. "Decent fellows these Norwegian skippers! 'Fraid I can't say the same for the Swedes. Pro-Huns, waiting to see which way the cat jumps, every time. Up with the German ensign, bos'n's mate, and hoist the International 'ID.' Sorry to have to put the wind up 'em, but it can't be helped."
"Hanged if I ever thought I'd be under the Black Cross Ensign!" remarked Blenkinson, as the emblem of modern piracy was sent aloft. "And what's the meaning of those flags?" he inquired, indicating a square of yellow bunting with a circular black patch in the centre surmounting a blue pennant with a white ball.
"Just a polite intimation to stop and pass the time of day," volunteered Meredith. "Kind of invitation to have a drink. Technically it's a signal meaning 'Heave-to or I'll sink you.'"
Approaching at an aggregate speed of twenty-seven knots, the tramp and the Q-boat were soon at close quarters. True to her rôle of U-boat, the latter was cleared for action, the R.A.F. officers like the rest of the crew disguised in black oilskins in order to heighten the deception.
The Norwegian tramp reversed engines. She flew her national ensign and had the distinctive colours painted on her sides, together with the word "Norge" in huge letters. But that was no guarantee that she was a genuine Norwegian vessel. She might be a Hun raider in disguise, with a heavy armament concealed behind hinged bulwarks.
Once more the collapsible boat was lowered, and Ainslie and Cumberleigh, whose knowledge of German enabled them the better to impersonate Hun officers, were rowed off to the tramp.
"Dash it all!" whispered the R.A.F. captain to his companion, as he eyed askance the dangling Jacob's ladder hanging over the side of the rolling vessel. "Do I swarm up that? I'll give the show away right off."
All the same he made a creditable performance, following Ainslie to the deck of the Ole, for such was her name.
A glance reassured the sub-lieutenant that the tramp was not a disguised raider. He made a prearranged signal to the Q-boat to relieve Morpeth of further anxiety on the subject, and then proceeded to interview the Norwegian skipper, who also spoke German.
The latter fully expected his command to be sunk, as her papers showed her to be bound for Leith with a cargo of foodstuffs. Nor did he look surprised, although he expressed indignation, when Ainslie ordered him into the boat.
"And my crew?" he asked. "Surely you will give them time to provision and man the boats?"
"That will be decided later," replied the Sub. "Be quick. We are waiting."
The Norwegian crew, taking it for granted that their skipper was to be made a prisoner, showed a decidedly threatening attitude. Ainslie and Cumberleigh were inwardly perturbed. Without "giving the show away," it was difficult to see how they were to get out of the trouble, until the Norwegian captain, anxious to save his men from further ill-usage at the hands of the German pirates, ordered them to adopt a passive attitude.
Morpeth met the skipper of the Ole as he came over the side of Q 171 and escorted him below.
"Can you speak English?" he asked abruptly.
"Yes," was the reply of the astonished Norwegian. "For fifteen years I have run between British and Norwegian ports. A man has then an excellent chance to learn the English language."
"Then you will not be sorry to hear that this is a British vessel," continued Morpeth, producing a bottle of whisky. "Say when. That's good!"
The Norwegian hesitated to accept the proffered glass.
"Why, then, am I arrested?" he asked.
"Not arrested," corrected Morpeth—"merely invited on board. I want to ask a favour. Will you give a passage to three British officers and twenty-six Germans?"
"Explain, please," said the master of the Ole.
"Tough Geordie" did so.
"I have no objection to offering hospitality to the British officers," decided the Norwegian; "but there are difficulties as far as the German sailors are concerned."
"Their passage will be paid for."
"I was not troubling about that question," continued the Norwegian. "You see, I am a neutral. These men will be free while under the Norwegian flag."
"They won't be when you set them ashore, Skipper," rejoined the R.N.R. man meaningly. "As for International Law and the rights of neutrals, all I can say is that if Germany had respected them the war would have been over long ago, and I wouldn't be holding you up to-day."
"That is quite true," admitted the master of the Ole. "We Norwegians have no love for the Germans, and our mercantile navy has suffered more at their hands than the rest of the neutral nations combined. But I have another objection. These Germans would outnumber my crew. Supposing they take possession forcibly of my ship and make for a German port?"
"They won't do that," said Morpeth emphatically. "Knowing their skipper is alive, they wouldn't go back to Germany and put their heads through a running noose."
"That is so," remarked the Norwegian. "I will take them."
The two men, brothers of the sea, shook hands. The Norwegian returned to his vessel in Q 171's dinghy and gave orders for the Ole's boat to be lowered.
"Now, gentlemen," said Morpeth briskly, addressing the three R.A.F. officers, "the best of pals must part. Circumstances demand that I send you back in yonder vessel. I've got my job, and no doubt one is waiting for you at Auldhaig. I wouldn't shine as an airman, and I don't think you're cut out for Q-boat work. See my meaning?"
"Quite," agreed Cumberleigh gravely.
"Of course we're sorry to have to part company, but your remarks fit the case absolutely. And I'm rather keen to follow this Fennelburt business."
"I've had a code message written out," continued Morpeth. "You can take charge of that. I'm afraid you'll have von Loringhoven and those mutineering Huns as travelling companions. Von Preugfeld I'm keeping on board for the benefit of his health. The risks he'll run here will be slight compared with those he'd have on board the Ole. Some of his former crew would doubtless cut his throat in order to clinch matters. Here's the boat coming alongside. Good-bye and good luck!"
Bidding Wakefield, Morpeth and Ainslie farewell, the three members of the dissolved R.A.F. Salvage Syndicate went over the side and were transhipped to the Norwegian vessel. The Hun seamen followed in another boat, but von Loringhoven refused to go with them. He, too, felt that he was in danger at the hands of the mutineers, and Morpeth, knowing the facts and having no cause to wish the unter-leutnant harm from a personal point of view, allowed him to remain.
Twenty minutes later the Ole was hull down.
Morpeth, who had been busy with a sextant, laid the instrument down and began to work out his position. Presently he turned to Wakefield.
"Here we are," he said, sticking a point of the divider into the chart. "Lat. 55 deg. 50' 10" N. Long. 6 deg. 15' 10" E. We fired our passengers just in time. Another four hours and with luck we'll pick up the Hoorn Reefs Lightship. Then the fun'll commence."
"All our passengers?" queried Wakefield smiling.
"Yes," replied "Tough Geordie." "You, my lad, are a worker. I'll see that you do your bit. We'll bag some pheasants although it's close season."
"Let's hope so," said Wakefield cheerfully.
"An' I'm a rotten sportsman," added Morpeth. "'Owing to the war,' I suppose. 'Tany rate if I've the chance I'm going to bag 'em while they're sitting up. After all, Fritz-strafing's my job, and the more the merrier."