CHAPTER VII
Rammed
The echoes of the explosion had scarce died away when the Portchester Castle turned and steamed back to pick up her two boats. She was still about two miles off, and nearly three times that distance from the receding Two-Step.
The crews of the cutter and the whaler were busily engaged in coiling away the undamaged grass ropes. The connecting span had, of course, been blown to bits by the detonation. Both boats had to be baled out, for a quantity of water hurled skywards by the exploded mines had fallen into the little craft. Webb's command was flooded to a depth of a couple of inches over the bottom boards, while the whaler had considerably more water in her.
"Look astern, sir!" exclaimed the coxswain of the cutter.
The Sub glanced across his shoulder. The sea in the vicinity had now almost regained its mirror-like aspect, but in the direction indicated by the petty officer its surface was rippled by a tell-tale swell, as if some large object were moving slowly at a considerable depth.
"Stand by, lads!" ordered Webb. "Oars!"
The blades had barely touched the water when, at a distance of less than five yards from the cutter, appeared the twin periscopes of a submarine—this time the genuine article.
The U-boat, for such she was, had been lurking in the vicinity of the decoy. Her kapitan had seen the approach of the Portchester Castle and the tramp, and feeling confident that the booby periscope would be noticed, had remained to watch the effect of the Englanders' curiosity.
On hearing the explosion he wrongly concluded that the experiment had not been a successful one, as far as the inquisitive vessel was concerned; and after a brief interval he ordered the U-boat to the surface, with the intention of gloating over the sinking of yet another strafed English ship.
"Back port—pull starboard!" ordered Webb.
Almost in her own length the cutter swung round until she lay broadside on to the appearing periscopes, which were still forging ahead and momentarily showing higher and higher above the surface.
Drawing his revolver the Sub took steady aim at almost point-blank range. It was practically impossible to miss. The mirrors on the top of the periscope were shattered. The next instant, the foremost metal pipe of the now blinded submarine was grinding against the cutter's gunwale.
"Cutter ahoy!" shouted Haynes.
[Illustration: "THE SUBMARINE WAS NOW IN AN AWKWARD PLIGHT">[
The whaler was now a hundred yards off, and the cutter lay between her and the still submerged U-boat. Haynes had heard the double report of the revolver shots, and was at a loss to account for Webb's seemingly inexplicable act.
"Come alongside as hard as you can!" shouted Webb; then addressing the bowman of the cutter he ordered: "A couple of hitches with your painter, man."
The bowman acted promptly. In a few seconds the cutter had swung round and was being urged at a steady rate through the water with her painter made fast to the foremost of the damaged periscopes.
Haynes, too, had now grasped the situation. The whaler, urged at the greatest speed by the rowers, was quickly on the spot. Her painter was then secured to the aftermost periscope.
The two Subs were now keenly on the alert for further developments. The point to consider was whether the U-boat would attempt to continue to ascend, or make a frantic effort to submerge completely. In the former case both boats would have to be trimmed by the head to counteract the lifting power of the invisible submarine; in the latter case all hands, with the exception of the bowman, would have to crowd aft in order to impart the greatest buoyancy to the for'ard portion of the boats.
The submarine was now in an awkward plight. In spite of the fact that her displacement was something in the neighbourhood of six hundred tons she had little reserve of buoyancy, represented by the weight of water in her ballast tanks. Against this she was hampered by the two boats, the cutter weighing a little over a ton without her crew and gear, and the whaler supplying a dead weight of nearly half that of her consort.
The U-boat dare not rise. To do so, even if she were capable of the fact with the two "millstones" literally hanging round her neck, she would be running an unknown risk, since she was unaware of the nature of the obstruction. Nor could she dive with safety. Before she could admit sufficient water ballast to make her heavy enough to swamp the two boats, the strain would wrench the periscopes from the submarine's hull. In spite of the intricate valves, the wrench imparted to her mechanism would make it an impossibility to prevent quantities of water entering the interior, and send the U-boat down for good and all.
"We've got her, old man!" explained Haynes joyously.
"And she's got us, too," replied Webb. "Sort of marine game of beggar my neighbour."
Haynes was certainly right, and so was his brother officer. Until the Portchester Castle arrived to render assistance the struggle looked like being a dead heat, unless——
Yes, Webb knew that there was an "unless"—a mighty unpleasant one. There was a possibility that the U-boat's skipper would not surrender. Rather he would explode the war-heads of the torpedoes still within the hull, and send the submarine to instant destruction, at the same time involving the annihilation of the two boats and their crews.
At all costs Webb determined to "stand fast", but it was with mingled feelings of elation and apprehension that he regarded the shadowy outlines of his "capture", as the enormous hull showed dimly at twelve feet beneath the surface. Air bubbles broke upon the slightly agitated waves as the U-boat strove either to "sound" or break away and rise awash. At intervals her twin screws churned the water, sometimes going ahead and sometimes astern, with the result that the cutter and the whaler crashed gunwale to gunwale half a dozen times in twice as many minutes. Only the skilful and strenuous endeavours of their crews prevented the strongly-built sides from collapsing like shattered egg-shells.
All this while the Portchester Castle was bearing down upon the boats. Captain M'Bride knew that something unusual was taking place. The erratic movements of the two craft told him that, but he was at a loss to understand the reason.
"Cutter ahoy!" came a hail through a megaphone from the armed merchantman's bridge.
"What are you foul of?"
One of the boat's crew, producing two handflags, dexterously balanced himself upon one of the thwarts.
"Hooked a submarine, sir," he reported.
"How does she lie?" was the skipper's next question.
"Bows away from you, sir; her stern's swinging on to your port bow."
This knowledge was of importance, for, although the U-boat was blind, it was just possible that her crew might discharge a torpedo on the off chance of the missile getting home.
"Stand by to cast off roundly," came the next order from the Portchester Castle. "I'm going to ram her aft."
"Now for it," thought Tom Webb. "If we're not in the ditch within the next fifty seconds I'll be very much mistaken."
The Sub had barely expressed himself thus, when with a quivering jerk the U-boat shot above the surface, exposing the whole of the after part of the conning-tower, although the fore part was still beneath the surface. She was so down by the head that the blades of her stern hydroplanes were visible. Realizing that it was touch-and-go, the German skipper had released the emergency metal keel with which these craft are equipped.
Owing to their short painters, the cutter and the whaler were swung in close alongside the rounded hull, their bows hoisted clear of the water by the terrific strain upon their bow ropes.
Several of their crews had been flung upon the bottom boards and stern-sheets, while streams of water from the U-boat's deck threatened to swamp the frail craft alongside.
Instantly the after hatch of the submarine was flung open, and, headed by a stout, fair-haired leutnant, the German crew armed with revolvers began to pour through the narrow opening on to the U-boat's decks.
There was no indication on their part of a wish to surrender. It was evidently going to be a hand-to-hand scrap 'twixt British and Germans.
The submarine's officer had taken in part of the situation at a glance. Shouting to a couple of hands to cut the painters, he led the rest of the men in a headlong rush towards the two boats, the Huns opening a hot but erratic fire from their small-arms. Unfortunately for him the leutnant had not noticed in his haste the Portchester Castle's approach, until a warning shout from one of the Germans revealed the immediate danger.
The attack stopped immediately. Throwing down their revolvers the Huns raised their hands above their heads, shouting "Mercy, kamerad!" at the fullest pitch of their lungs, some directing their appeal towards the British seamen in the boats, others towards the vengeful merchant-cruiser.
"Cast off!" shouted Webb. "Back, men, for all you're worth."
Deftly the bowman of the cutter severed the painter. With a flop the boat's bows slid down the bulging sides of the submarine, and, backed by the vigorous efforts of half a dozen rowers, drew away from the doomed pirate.
No human effort on the part of Captain M'Bride could now avert the work of destruction that the Portchester Castle had already attempted. It was impossible to check the momentum of thousands of tons of metal, moving at fifteen knots through the water; nor could a change of helm be effected in time to allow the ship to glide harmlessly astern. Hulling the U-boat's side at a distance of about fifty feet from her stern, the Portchester Castle's sharp bows cut completely through the doomed craft. The after part sank like a stone; the major portion rolling over until the top of the conning-tower dipped beneath the surface, floated for nearly thirty seconds, emitting air, oil, and petrol, and disappeared from view.
This much Tom Webb saw; then in front of his field of vision appeared the towering hull of the armed merchantman as she tore past. Caught between the vortex caused by the sunken U-boat and the sharp-crested wave from her destroyer's bow, the cutter was completely overset, and in the midst of a smother of foam the Sub found himself swimming for dear life.