Within the harbour were swarms of small craft of all types—ocean-going torpedo-boats, patrol-boats, submarines, lighters, suction-dredgers, captured merchantmen, and paddle-wheelers. All, more or less, showed signs of being badly mauled, for, almost daily, British sea-planes swarmed overhead and let the Huns know that they meant to make things hot for the pirates' nest.
At the present moment the guns were silent. Nevertheless, it was easy to see that Fritz was on thorns. Above the town floated four observation balloons; a Black Cross aeroplane flew discreetly along the sea-front, ready to hark back to its hangar on the first sign of the dreaded British sea-planes. From an elevated wooden tower on the extremity of the Mole, signalmen, brought specially from Kiel, swept the horizon with their telescopes. Anti-aircraft gunners were continually standing by, while in bomb-proof shelters artillerymen awaited telephonic orders to man their guns, should a 17-inch salvo from the monitors beyond the horizon announce that yet another strafe was beginning.
Against the base of the parapet were bundles of barbed wire, one end of which was securely fixed to stout ring-bolts in the granite wall. On the inner edge of the Mole were massive iron posts, each post being abreast a corresponding roll of wire. This was a part of the German defences, for at night the wire was stretched across the Mole roadway, forming twenty or more barriers, in which narrow gaps were left to enable men to move to and fro. These barbed-wire defences were augmented by live wires, the whole forming a truly formidable obstacle should any attempt be made to storm the Mole.
All this Seton was freely permitted to see. His captors intended that he should do so, otherwise they would have bandaged his eyes. It was part of von Brockdorff-Giespert's scheme. Confident in his belief that the prisoner would never leave Zeebrugge until the conclusion of a victorious German peace, the Count spared no pains to humiliate and intimidate his captive.
Presently the guards halted at a distance of less than eighty yards from the head of the Mole. Here was an abandoned big-gun emplacement. The seaward aperture had partly collapsed, leaving a gap of about four feet in width and two in height. This had been prevented from completely caving in by several thick steel bars fixed at four-inch intervals, the whole forming an impassable grille. The gun had been removed from the emplacement, leaving a space of twenty-five feet by twelve, and eight feet between the stone floor and the steel-girdered and concrete reinforced roof. The door was of steel, and furnished with three slits for rifle-fire. Within was a plank-bed with a straw mattress, a wooden stool, a shelf holding tin plates and cups, and a couple of blankets. This was Alec Seton's cell.
"Evidently the old brigand is keeping his word," thought the Sub as he was roughly bidden to enter and the door locked upon him. "He said he'd leave me to the attentions of our bombing 'planes and long-range guns. Ah, well! It's no use moaning about it. Make the best of a bad job, Alec, my boy, and keep a stiff upper lip. Many a man's been in a tighter hole than this before to-day and has lived to tell the tale. Never say die till you're dead."
And, with a series of similar trite maxims running through his head, Seton prepared to shake down in his new abode as a guest of the Imperial German Government.
CHAPTER X
Preparations
"Jolly rotten luck that Bolero business," remarked Lieutenant Farnborough, commanding M.-L. 4452.