CHAPTER XXXI.
LIKE A MIRACLE OF OLD.
Three Dutch men-of-war, with steam up, lay off Flushing, ready to defend the neutrality of their waters.
All vessels were forbidden to clear from the port and enter the North Sea after nightfall, and on the sanded floor of the tap-room, in a sailors’ house of rest, our boys were impatiently scraping their feet, awaiting sunrise. In their anxiety to get away without submitting to intimate inspection, they had no desire for napping.
With their belts, these boys represented a money valuation of more than a million francs.
Since arrival in Flushing, the day before, Hans had been an active mover at the mouth of the Scheldt, and for shipping news an eager seeker.
At this particular date, the rumor among men of the nautical trade was that, in the rough sea, anchored mines were often going loose, and a bobbing mine is not apt to have any discretion as to the keel with which it collides.
“I’ve heard dozens of mines explode in a single day,” said one captain to Hans. The latter had heard a few himself.
In addition to mines, the sea was crowded with torpedo boat destroyers, submarines of all sorts and descriptions, and with cruisers the waters fairly reeked. There, too, were the steam trawlers, either engaged in laying or “sweeping” for mines. These “sweepers” run in pairs. Between each pair a steel net is suspended. The theory is that mines, whether floating or anchored, will be caught by that net. Then one of the destroyers, which are constantly darting about, is signaled, and destroys the mine by a single shot.
Overhead, Zeppelins and other aircraft continually circled, dropping bombs where they would do the most harm to those whom the airmen desired to harm the most, and sometimes harm was done without intent.