CHAPTER V
A Discovery
Sub-Lieutenant Jack Hamerton was fairly well-informed as far as British naval officers go, and his information regarding the island fortress of Heligoland was fairly extensive, but he still had a lot to learn.
He knew the history of the island from its capture by the British from the Danes in the first decade of the nineteenth century. For nearly ninety years Heligoland existed as a British possession, its safety entrusted to a handful of coastguards, its ordering to a British governor, and its spiritual welfare to a Lutheran pastor. Up till 1850 the then pastor used regularly to offer up a prayer in the presence of his flock that a storm might arise to cast a valuable wreck upon the cliff-bound coast, for the Frisian inhabitants of Heligoland were to a great extent dependent upon the unlawful harvest of the sea.
As for the governor, his office was little more than a sinecure, once the regulations forbidding gaming were enforced. It was said that one of these officials was responsible for the introduction of rabbits upon Sandy Island, in order that his guests might while away the otherwise tedious hours by indulging in a little shooting. To-day, where the twelve-bores of the sportsmen used to bowl over harmless rabbits, enormous Krupp guns, on disappearing mountings, are cunningly concealed in strongly protected pits, for Sandy Island—now known as Sandinsel—has been artificially increased until it is nearly twice as large in extent as Heligoland itself.
Even Heligoland has undergone a complete metamorphosis. The little red sandstone rock, barely three-quarters of a mile in length and a quarter of a mile in breadth, had long been threatened with destruction by the action of the sea. Neglected under British rule, the island seemed fated to be wiped off the map, for after every heavy storm huge masses of sandstone would slide into the raging waters.
But directly Heligoland became a German possession prompt steps were taken to prevent further inroads of the ocean. The worthless rock was destined to be one of the most powerful fortresses in the North Sea, and a perpetual thorn in Britannia's side. Accordingly a massive sea wall of granite was built to encircle the island and baulk the billows of the German Ocean. This done, the work of fortifying the island with modern weapons was begun, and had been rapidly yet secretly carried out.
The British Government was cognizant of the fact that Krupp guns had been mounted, presumably equivalent to the nine-inch weapons. But it did not know that the ordnance consisted chiefly of fifteen-inch guns, conveyed under the most elaborate conditions of secrecy to the island.
His Majesty's Intelligence Department knew of an ammunition tunnel piercing the island from north to west; it knew nothing of the presence of vast artificial caves filled with oil fuel, with discharging pipes capable of supplying a fleet of the largest battleships with crude petroleum in the minimum of time.
The British Admiralty official charts and sailing directions gave the depth of the anchorage in North Haven at less than four and a quarter fathoms anywhere south of a line drawn due east of Nathurn, the northernmost extremity of Heligoland. By the same authority the maximum depth in South Haven, and within a mile of the Unterland, was given as three and three-quarter fathoms. In reality, thanks to strenuous dredging operations between the two islands, a fleet of the deepest-draughted battleships could lie at anchor, protected from all winds by the enormous harbour works that had sprung into existence during the last fifteen or twenty years.
The natural features of Sandinsel Island were favourable for this work, for stretching in a north-westerly direction for almost three miles were a number of rocky ledges, many of their points drying at low tide. Already the Olde Hoven Brunnen and the Krid Brunnen were converted into firm ground faced with granite or ferro-concrete walls, while the work of reclaiming the Witt Klif Brunnen was actively progressing. Although Sandinsel had already outgrown its companion isle in point of size, reclamation works were in a state of activity at Heligoland itself. Wharves extending nearly a mile from Sathurn—the southernmost limit of the original rock—formed an efficient breakwater to South Haven; and the area thus enclosed had been adapted for the purpose of berthing twenty submarines and eighty first-class torpedo boats and destroyers attached to the Heligoland command.
The submarines were the latest creations of the renowned Krupp Germania yard—large, speedy, and capable of operating within a thousand miles of their base without having to be dependent upon fresh supplies of gasoline. Submerged, they could travel a distance that would bring them within striking range of any port on the east coast of Great Britain. They were armed, in addition to the four torpedo tubes, with two fourteen-pounders on disappearing mountings, and, as Hamerton had discovered, with high-angle pneumatic guns, so as to be able, even when submerged, to attack aircraft with a great possibility of success.
Undoubtedly the new Heligoland was a strong fortress for defence. It was more: it was a base for offence, for why were ocean-going destroyers and submarines stationed there if their sole duty was to defend the comparatively short stretch of coast line that forms the German Empire's bulwark on the North Sea?
Heligoland, like the newly created fortresses of Borkum and Westerland Sylt, was a menace, directed principally against Great Britain and the British Empire.
And by a strange freak of navigation the Diomeda had dropped anchor in South Haven. Possibly had the lighthouse been showing its powerful light Hamerton might have picked up his position even in the thick, drizzling rain; but, in accordance with notices supplied to mariners by the German Admiralty, the light was extinguished whenever night operations were in progress in the vicinity of Heligoland. The leading lights on Sandinsel and the lamps at the extremities of the Moles had likewise been temporarily discontinued; yet in spite of these disadvantages, the German authorities had the mortification of knowing that a small craft, unpiloted and unseen, had crept up to the anchorage in the dead of night.
On the face of it there could be no other explanation than that the crew of the yacht were spies. The failure on their part to show a light under the bowsprit by night, or hoist their national ensign to the masthead by day, was in itself suspicious; and, left to their own resources in their temporary prison, Hamerton and Detroit agreed that the action of the German authorities was to a certain extent justifiable.
"Directly we explain matters to the commandant we'll be released," said Hamerton; "but I don't see the fun of having to give explanations to that arrogant sweep of a major."
"Nor I," added Detroit. "And I guess I'd just like to have half a dozen rounds with that yellow-haired lieutenant. I'll bet the other fellow is having a high old time rummaging our belongings."
The Sub did not reply. Again the thought of what might happen if the compromising Schwartz-Kopff torpedo book were discovered flashed across his mind. He almost wished that he had tossed the thing overboard, for he had not had an opportunity of reading it and committing the salient facts to memory, and its recovery by the German authorities would mean not only that the information was lost to the British Admiralty, but that the crew of the Diomeda would be placed in a very awkward predicament.
"It's real rotten being hung up here," continued the American. "See, the sun is shining again." He pointed towards the single-barred window four feet above their heads, through which the sunshine was streaming brilliantly. Even as he spoke the shaft of light was suddenly obscured, and a dull whirring sound came from without.
"Here, give me a leg up!" exclaimed the Sub. "Bend down, and I'll get upon your back."
Detroit immediately complied, and with considerable agility Hamerton clambered on to his friend's shoulders.
With hardly an effort the muscular American stood upright, in spite of the Sub's bulky proportions, and Hamerton was able to grasp the bars of the window and look out.
He was not disappointed in what he saw. An enormous military Zeppelin had just descended, and was being guided by several hundred soldiers along the sandy stretch between the Unterland and the sea. The afterpart, with the twin propellers and rearmost nacelle, was alone visible from the Sub's outlook. The car contained a Krupp seven-point-five-centimetres automatic gun, firing twelve-pounder shrapnel shells specially intended for use against hostile aeroplanes. At a range of four thousand yards the flying portions of the shell covered a radius of twenty yards, while the disturbance of the air caused by the explosion of the projectile was calculated to imperil the equilibrium of any heavier-than-air craft within a hundred yards of the point of detonation.
On the upper side of the rounded aluminium envelope was a small platform on which stood another automatic gun on a vertical mounting, so as to be able to fire at any aeroplane that might venture to assail the Zeppelin from above.
To each of these platforms were attached two small cigar-shaped ballonettes, fitted with life-lines. These were obviously intended to act as aerial life-buoys should disaster overtake this mammoth of the air; but what struck Hamerton most forcibly was the sight of a couple of officers standing in the rearmost nacelle and actually smoking cigarettes.
"These fellows have a supreme faith in the nonporosity of their gasbag," he thought. "With that immense volume of hydrogen, and the fate of previous Zeppelins in their minds, I am surprised that they dare risk such a thing. I wonder if they've discovered another gas of the same or greater lifting-power than hydrogen? Or perhaps some of the German savants have found a means of rendering hydrogen non-inflammable. I'd like to find out, by Jove!"
The Zeppelin came to a standstill with her nose almost touching the Waalhorn monument, and her tail within a few feet of the disused lifeboat slip. With the utmost celerity several lengths of hose were coupled up, and the work of replenishing the petrol tanks was begun. The two officers who were smoking descended from the nacelle and walked away in the direction of the Oberland, a mechanic gave the signal, the hoses began to swell, and the liquid, under the force of gravity, poured into the storage tanks.
The sound of approaching footsteps caused Hamerton somewhat reluctantly to descend. Detroit, red in the face, had already begun to realize that, muscular though he was, the Sub's weight could not be borne with equanimity.
The door was unlocked and thrown open. A file of marines with side-arms entered, headed by a sergeant. Without a word the men surrounded the two prisoners; the non-commissioned officer pointed meaningly towards the open door.
Through the cleanly kept streets of the Unterland the two comrades were hurried, then up the zigzag path communicating with the plateau known as the Oberland, where the larger portion of the residential buildings was situated. Hamerton recognized the old and the new lighthouses and the Bull Beacon from sketches on the Admiralty chart; but he was somewhat surprised to find that even in the short journey between the Unterland and the Government House there were no less than ten large guns in armoured casemates, searchlights galore, and a network of ammunition lines, on which ran trucks actuated by electric power.
In front of the Government House stood a lofty flagpole, from which fluttered the German national ensign. One thing he remarked was that every passer-by saluted the emblem of the Mailed Fist.
"Guess I'll bet you a dollar we're free in less than twenty minutes," said Detroit to his comrade, as they were marched up the stone path towards the commandant's dwelling.
Before Hamerton could make any remark, one of the hitherto silent and stolid marines turned his brass-helmeted head and added: "I don't tink!"