The Men Who Wrought

by Ridgwell Cullum

BACK AT DORBY TOWERS

Sir Andrew had listened patiently. His had been the grave attitude of a man impressed beyond mere words of agreement or understanding. His reading glasses had been thrust aside. His grey head was inclined towards his clasped hands, and his broad chin found support upon them. His whole poise was of the closest attention.

"It's like a—fairy-tale," he said at last as Ruxton's story came to an end, and the deep, calm tones of his voice died out.

"Or a—nightmare?"

"Ye-es."

Sir Andrew swung round in his ample library chair and faced his desk. It was the movement of a man stirred out of his customary calm.

Ruxton watched his father closely from his seat on the settle under the mullioned window. He was seeking the effect of his story upon a man whom he knew to be typically British at heart. He had seen it all, had experienced it all. His father had not.

Presently Sir Andrew faced him again.

"Now your—purpose," he demanded, with the air of crisp business. "You would set out to revolutionize our mercantile marine by the adoption of this—submersible."

"As rapidly as is compatible with commercial interests."

"You mean that we are to take the entire risk of the success of this new departure?"

"It is our contribution to our country's cause."

Then Ruxton drew a deep breath. He sat up, and his words came swiftly, passionately.

"There must be no hesitation, Dad. The submersible will be no failure. You must see this thing with my eyes, you must understand it with my understanding. What I would do is to take upon ourselves this first burden in the cause of patriotism. We must take the lead, cost us what it may. If the thing is a failure, then we are so much the poorer in this world's goods, but we shall have wrought honestly in the cause of our country. If it is the success I am sure of, then our gain is twofold. But even if the latter is fulfilled beyond my expectations it is not going to be the easy thing it looks. Listen. Hertzwohl believes that he can completely cover his tracks. I am just as certain that he cannot. Germany will discover the betrayal of her secrets. She will punish the offender in the complete manner of which she is so great a mistress. Then, by every art and wile of which she is capable, by every ruthless persistent purpose for which she is renowned, she will strive to undo the harm already achieved. We shall not be left to peaceful construction, if my understanding of the situation is correct. We may have to face even personal attack upon our lives and upon our ship-yards. It is with ideas of this sort running through my mind that I intend to lay the whole matter before the Cabinet. I intend to secure Government patronage and protection for this scheme. It is the only means by which we can hope to meet the attack which I am convinced will be forthcoming from our country's enemies. It is a lot to ask of you, Dad, at your time of life. Did I not know the great strength of your character, and the extreme loyalty you possess for our country, I should have shouldered the whole of this burden myself. As it is I know that with all your spirit you would have resented such a course. Therefore I lay it before you."

The older man made no attempt at agreement or denial. He sat drumming his fingers upon the edge of his desk while his keen eyes twinkled in his boy's direction. He understood the earnestness of the idealist. He saw the purpose in every line of the strong young face. He appreciated the perfect poise of the keen, fresh intellect. And for the moment his mind went back to the glimpse of Paradise which had been his during the brief period of his married life. This son of his was that splendid Russian woman over again, and he was glad. But when he spoke his manner had undergone no change from his crisp business practice.

"You would have us build——?"

"Two vessels of three thousand tons each and incorporate them with our coastwise fleet. Then two deep-sea craft of say six thousand tons. I would lay these down at once. Once their success is proved the plans can be laid open to all our shipping world. When the time comes the Government must be induced to foster the new construction by subsidy, and by every other means in its power. But in the first instance we alone must bear the burden and all it involves. If disaster should overtake our efforts our justification remains. The days of Britain's pre-war ineptitude are so recent that even an active progressive failure would be a matter scarcely to be deplored. We must convince the world of the sincerity of our convictions, and, to do that, we must, if need be, risk our entire fortune. The danger we know lies ahead. In Britain it is useless to tell of it. Only our own actions can speak and carry convictions. It is our plain and simple duty to put our all into this thing. If it should bring us disaster or even simple ruin, I tell you, Dad, I would rather spend the rest of my life in honest rags, with the knowledge that my substance has been absorbed in an endeavor to help my country, than claim this beautiful home of ours as a view-point from which to watch the triumph of our country's enemies."

"Ye-es."

The twinkling eyes of Sir Andrew developed a smile upon his rugged Yorkshire features. But it was a smile of sympathy.

"The most thoroughly unbusinesslike transaction I was ever asked to countenance," he observed drily. "This sort of thing, as you have suggested, has come rather late in my life. But it only makes me regret my years. But tell me again of this man. His genius, his curious attitude of mind have left me rather breathless. This sort of thing in a German——?"

"Pole. There is not a drop of German blood in his veins." Ruxton caught eagerly at the opportunity of the man's defence. "His attitude, his personality, has left you no more breathless than it has left me. Dad, I have spent nearly a week in his company, a week spent in contact with the greatest mind it has ever been my good fortune to encounter. Nor do I think the mind is greater than the soul. Oh, yes, I know what the unthinking would say. They would think and speak of treachery. They would spurn the creature who could betray the country which claims him, the country which has bestowed wealth and rank upon him. They would talk of loyalty and honor, and so, in their shallow way, prove the vile thing he must be. But I tell you there is something terrible in the demand for allegiance to a country whose sole aim is conquest in every phase of life; not the peaceful conquest which springs from the higher intelligence and purity of soul, but the brutal conquest of bloodshed, rapine, and terror. The man who can detach himself from the commonplace understanding of honor, the man whose courage is such that he dares to outrage such understanding in the cause of humanity, is something approaching my understanding of a demi-god. If Prince von Hertzwohl is a traitor, then I would gladly be branded in a like manner."

The father permitted nothing of the effect of the idealist's words any expression. But he was not the less affected by them. However, he still bent all his mental force upon the practical side of the situation.

"And you believe this man's life will pay for his—for what he has done?"

"I am certain of it."

Sir Andrew drew a deep breath. The assurance carried conviction.

"I am so certain," Ruxton added, "that I offered him shelter here."

"He accepted?"

"On the contrary—he refused."

His father's manner softened.

"His courage is almost—tragic."

"Or sublime."

"When were the preparations at this Borga begun?" Sir Andrew asked a moment later.

"During the war." Ruxton gave a short hard laugh. "Borga was purchased to be used as an alternative base for submarine construction in case Kiel and Cuxhaven should be raided from the sea. Germany, even then, was looking far, far ahead."

"Yes."

For a few silent moments Ruxton's father continued to drum his fingers upon the desk before him. Then his keen eyes were raised again unsmilingly to his son's face.

"And the price? What price does he demand for these plans?" he enquired sharply.

Ruxton's eyes levelled themselves at his father's.

"There is no price."

The old man's busy fingers became suddenly still.

"No—price?"

"None. They are a gift—in the cause of humanity."

Sir Andrew ran his strong fingers through his snowy hair. A whimsical smile began to possess his eyes.

"You have left me more convinced than I had thought possible."

"Of the danger?"

"No—of the man."

"I am glad."

"In England, as elsewhere, humanity is generally helped at our neighbor's expense."

A flash of disapproval leapt into the younger man's eyes.

"If I did not know better, Dad, I should take you for——"

"A cynic," broke in his father. Then he went on explosively. "Believe me, boy, I am a cynic where our country's splendid character, as depicted in song and verse, and the ha'penny press, is concerned. On the subject of our national characteristics the late war was enough to break the heart of the veriest optimist. As far as I can see only two things stood the test of that fire. The fighting power of our people and our naval record. For the rest, for the men whose duty it was to supply the moral support, well——"

He broke off and leant across the desk and picked up the telephone receiver.

"Hello!" he called. "That you, McGrath? Good. Have you examined those——? Yes. Can you come up and talk to us about them at once? Yes. Very well. Please do so."

He replaced the receiver and turned about. His keen eyes were regarding his son affectionately. There was pride in them, too. His only son represented the whole of his life's interests and ambitions.

"You have most of your life before you. Most of mine is behind me. You, my boy, have been brought up, as far as was possible to me, in all the simple, beautiful beliefs which belonged to your dear mother. I was brought up to the hard life of commercial competition, and all the moral looseness which that implies. As time goes on I fear many of your splendid temples and shrines will be shattered. This must be so, and it is right. With the passing of youth you will gain a true perspective of human worth. And when that perspective is attained, if I have any understanding of my own son, he will not be unduly affected by it. That perspective is already mine, I believe, and, since I am first and foremost a commercial man, you will forgive me if I reduce my understanding to mere percentages. With exceptions, of course, I have found that human nature's sense of duty is made up of about 75 per cent. of regard for itself, 24 per cent. of regard for the duties of other people towards life, and about 1 per cent. of the milk of human kindness. So that—— Ah, here is McGrath."

Sir Andrew turned sharply from the amused gaze of his son to the newcomer. Ian McGrath was a powerfully built Scot. The sense of strength was displayed in almost every detail of his appearance. In his short, bristling, iron-grey hair, his extremely decided, plain features; the deep-set eyes, the long nose; the hard mouth, and harder chin and jaw. Even his build and his gait were loud in their assertion of his normal characteristics. The broad, lean shoulders, and generally loose-limbed body was propelled swiftly and alertly at all times.

He had thrust his way in without heralding his coming, and he came swiftly towards his employer's desk. His position as chief engineer and marine architect to the Farlow, Son and Farlow Line at Dorby left him upon an extremely intimate footing with the heads of the firm.

But just now his manner was even more confident than usual. There was a light almost of enthusiasm in his usually cold eyes. He paused at the desk and deposited the rolls of drawings he had in his hands upon the table. Then his eyes turned upon the recumbent Ruxton, and, in a moment, came back almost defiantly to his white-headed chief.

"They're the most exquisitely drawn plans I've ever seen, Sir Andrew," he said, in a peculiarly metallic voice. "If I believed in genius I'd say they are the work of one."

"Sit down, McGrath," said Sir Andrew pleasantly. "We've got to have a talk."

Mr. McGrath promptly deposited himself in the nearest chair, and again his questioning eyes passed from one to the other of his employers.

Sir Andrew drew the plans towards him and idly turned over the sheets and tracings. He was not considering them. He was thinking. Thinking rapidly, as was his habit when engaged upon the work of his enterprise.

"This boat has been built and tested. So has the light. Mr. Ruxton has travelled in a two-thousand-ton boat of this description for nearly a week. He has witnessed the light in operation."

McGrath's eyes were turned half enviously upon Ruxton. There was something bordering upon incredulity in them, too.

"Then they are not some crank's—dreaming?"

"No." Sir Andrew raised his eyes from the drawings, and their unemotional light held the engineer's.

"These plans are for a two-thousand-ton boat. You will put your department on them and increase the tonnage to three thousand, approximately. When you have completed the plans we will lay down the keels of two vessels of that size and proceed with construction with all speed, and—in absolute secrecy. So imperative is the latter that no precaution is too great to take. We will go into other matters later on."

Sir Andrew's manner was a dismissal, and the engineer rose to depart. He was accustomed to the ship-owner's brevity, and it suited his own ideas of things. But Ruxton detained him. He, too, had risen from his seat.

"One moment, McGrath," he said quickly. "There is danger—personal danger in this work. It may even be a matter of life and death to—all concerned. We shall probably have no peaceful time over this thing. I expect that every means—even force—will be used to—wreck us. It is only right to tell you. Shall you be—willing to undertake it in the circumstances?"

The engineer regarded him keenly. Then his hard mouth relaxed, and he seemed to lick his lips.

"This danger. Where does it come from?"

"Germany. The German Government."

The Scot's eyes lit. His face contorted, and he gave a short hard laugh.

"I'm more than willing," he said briefly. Then, with a curious unconcern for the warning, he turned to the drawings and gazed down at them affectionately. "Man, but they're beautiful. Did you—get them, Mr. Ruxton?"

There was no mistaking the implication.

"They are not stolen, McGrath," said Ruxton quietly. "At least not in the manner you are thinking. They were given to us by the inventor, whose property they were. But—they represent one of Germany's most treasured secrets."

The Scot nodded.

"Fine," he said, and the ring in his voice left the two men more than satisfied.

Sir Andrew smiled in his most genial fashion.

"Good," he exclaimed. "I shall be free in half an hour, McGrath. We'll go into details then. Thank you."

The engineer departed as hastily as he had appeared, and Ruxton dropped back into his seat. His father was still contemplating the plans.

At last he spoke without looking up.

"We are committed to it," he said. Then: "I wonder."

Ruxton sprang to his feet.

"I am glad—glad."

Then he moved round and stood gazing out through the leaded window, and his thoughts went back to the beautiful creature who on that one memorable night upon his beloved Yorkshire cliffs had first opened the doors of Life to him.