Under the White Ensign: A Naval Story of the Great War Page 3

  CHAPTER II

  Held Up by a U-Boat

  "HARD-A-STARBOARD!" roared Osborne. In the vivid glare of the nowunmasked searchlights he had detected a short spar-like objectprojecting a couple of feet or more above the waves. Almost at thesame time three of the _Portchester Castle's_ quick-firers united ina loud roar, their projectiles knocking up tall clouds of foam in thevicinity of the supposed periscope ere they ricochetted a mile or soaway.

  Dipping in the trough of an enormous roller the slight target waslost to sight. Whether hit by the shell the young lieutenant couldnot determine. In any case he meant to try and ram the skulking foe.

  Round swung the armed liner and, steadying on her helm, bore downupon the spot where the submarine was supposed to be lurking. Noslight jarring shock announced the successful issue of her attempt.

  "Missed her, I'm afraid, Mr. Osborne," exclaimed a deep voice.

  The Lieutenant turned and found himself confronted by the Captain,who, aroused from his slumbers, had appeared on the bridge dressedonly in pyjamas, a greatcoat, and carpet slippers.

  "And fortunately she missed us, sir," replied Osborne. "The wake ofthe torpedo was close under our stern."

  "Did anyone sight her?"

  "The dog, sir," said the Lieutenant. "He began barking at something.I immediately hurried up to see what was amiss, and ordered the helmto be ported."

  "Then your wall-eyed pet has done us a good turn," observed CaptainStaggles grimly. He was a keen disciplinarian, and did not altogetherapprove of a dog being brought on board. It was only on Osborne'searnest request that the skipper had relented, and then only on thecondition that the animal must be got rid of should he give trouble.

  Osborne had run the risk. To lose his pet would be nothing short of acalamity, but such was his confidence in Laddie that he had broughthim on board; and now, within a few hours of leaving port, thesheep-dog had gained distinction.

  "Suppose the brute's got second sight," remarked the Captain. "Well,carry on, Mr. Osborne, and put the ship on her former course. Callfor more speed--the sooner we get away from this particular dangerzone the better, since we can do nothing on a night like this. Seethat a wireless is sent reporting the presence and position of theU-boat."

  Having steadied the vessel and dispatched a signalman to the wirelessroom, Osborne rejoined Webb, who was methodically examining thesurface of the sea with his night glasses. Already the search-lightshad been switched off and the guns cleaned and secured.

  "A close shave," remarked Webb. "I thought she'd bagged us that time.It was fortunate that Laddie gave us warning."

  "Fortunate in a double sense," added Osborne. "The skipper will bemore favourably disposed towards Laddie after this. I've nothing tosay against the Captain (wouldn't if I had, you understand). Fromwhat I know of him he's a jolly smart skipper, but I fancy he doesn'tcotton on to animals."

  "He ought to as far as Laddie is concerned, after this," said theSub. "It is a perfect mystery to me how the dog spotted thesubmarine. I'll swear he did. He was so excited that I thought he wasgoing to jump over the rail."

  Just then a signalman ran up the bridge-ladder and tendered awriting-pad to the officer of the watch.

  "'S.O.S.' call, sir," he explained. "Sparks can't make head or tailof it, in a manner of speaking. He's jotted it down just as it wasreceived."

  Osborne took the message and retired into the chart-room. At a glancehe discovered that the message was partly in International Code andpartly in Spanish, or a language closely approaching it. An intimateknowledge of the ports of the Pacific coast of South America hadenabled Osborne to understand a good many words in Spanish. He couldtherefore make a fair translation of the appeal for aid.

  "It's a message from a Portuguese merchantman--the _Douro_," heexplained to Webb. "She is being pursued by a German submarine. Shegives her position. We're thirty miles to the nor'nor'-east. InformCaptain Staggles," he added, addressing the signalman.

  In a very short space of time the Captain again appeared on thebridge.

  "It will be daybreak before we sight her," he observed when Osbornehad made his report. "You didn't acknowledge the signal, I hope?"

  "No, sir."

  "That's good. Sorry to keep Senhor Portuguese on tenterhooks, but ifwe wirelessed him the strafed Hun might pick up the message. We musttry and catch the U-boat on the hop. Pass the word for the look-outto keep his eyes well skinned."

  The Captain leant over the for'ard guard-rail of the lofty bridge.Beneath lurked two greatcoated figures sheltering under the lee sideof the deckhouse from the driving spray.

  "Bos'n's mate!" shouted Captain Staggles.

  "Ay, ay, sir."

  "Pipe General Quarters."

  The shrill trills of the whistle brought the watch below surging ondeck. Already by some mysterious means the news had spread along thelower deck. Taking into consideration the fact that the ship had beenbut newly commissioned, there was little fault to be found with theway in which the men responded to the call.

  In the engine-room the staff had risen nobly to the Captain's requestto "whack her up". Quickly speed was increased to twenty knots as the_Portchester Castle_ hastened on her errand of succour to theharassed Portuguese merchantman.

  "I shouldn't be surprised if we are too late," remarked CaptainStaggles. "That wireless will most certainly be picked up by thePortuguese destroyer flotilla patrolling the Tagus. They'll be on thespot before us, I fancy."

  Lieutenant Osborne did not reply. He had good cause to thinkotherwise, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Nevertheless he wasglad when the skipper expressed his intention of "carrying on" in thedirection of the pursued tramp.

  With daybreak came the sound of distant intermittent gun-fire. Forfive minutes the cannonade was maintained, and then an ominoussilence. In addition the hitherto constant wireless appeals for aidceased abruptly.

  "They've got her, I'm afraid," remarked Webb to his chum and brotherofficer as the twain searched the horizon with their binoculars.

  "Not a sign of her," began Osborne.

  "Sail ahead, sir," reported the masthead man, who from his point ofvantage could command a far greater distance than the officers onthe bridge.

  "Where does she bear?" shouted Osborne.

  "Two points on the port bow, sir," was the prompt reply.

  In anxious suspense officers and crew waited for the Portuguesevessel to come within range of vision. Quickly the daylight grewbrighter. A slight mist that hung around in low, ill-defined patchesbegan to lift. The sea, still high, rendered it difficult to locate avessel at any considerable distance from the British auxiliarycruiser.

  Presently Osborne went to the voice-tube communicating with theengine-room. His observant eye had noticed that the _PortchesterCastle's_ funnels were throwing out considerable volumes of smoke.Since it was imperative that she should conceal her approach untilthe last possible moment, he requested the Engineer-lieutenant toexercise a little more care in the stokeholds. A minute or two laterthe black volumes of smoke gave place to a thin haze of bluishvapour.

  "There she is!" exclaimed Webb. "By Jove, they've bagged her! She'shove-to."

  The tramp, a vessel of about 2000 tons, was lying motionless andshowing almost broadside on to the oncoming _Portchester Castle_. Asyet there was no sign of the pursuing submarine.

  By the aid of the binoculars the British officers could just discernthe red and green mercantile ensign of Portugal being slowly loweredfrom the vessel's ensign-staff. The _Douro_ had surrendered: wouldthe _Portchester Castle_ be in time to save her from being sunk, ormerely able to witness her final plunge, and experience themortification of finding that the lawless U-boat had submerged intocomparative safety?

  For some seconds the silence on board the _Portchester Castle_ wasbroken only by the swish of the water against her bows, the muffledthud of the propeller shaftings, and the clear incisive tones of therange-finding officer as the distance rapidly and visibly decreasedbetwixt the ship and the supposed
position of the German submarine.

  Presently, upon the rounded crest of a roller appeared the elongatedconning-tower and a portion of the deck of the U-boat. She wasforging gently ahead, and was just drawing clear of the bows of the_Douro_.

  The situation was a delicate one. If the German commander's attentionwere wholly centred upon his capture it might be possible that thesubmarine would increase her distance sufficiently to enable the_Portchester Castle_ to send a shell into her without risk to thePortuguese vessel. If, on the other hand, the approaching succourerwere sighted by the Huns, the submarine would have time to go astern,close hatches under the lee of the _Douro_, and dive.

  Five thousand yards.

  A uniformed figure appeared above the poop-rail of the capturedtramp. The officers of the British vessel, keeping him underobservation by means of the powerful glasses, could see himgesticulating to the submarine. The latter began to lose way beforegoing astern.

  Now or never. A gap of barely fifty yards lay betwixt captor andprize. At the word of command the gun-layers of the two for'ardquick-firers bent over their sights. The two reports sounded as oneas the projectiles screeched on their errand of destruction.

  One shell hurtled within a few feet of the top of the conning-tower,sweeping away both periscopes in its career. The other struck theraised platform in the wake of the conning-tower, exploded, tearing ajagged hole in the hull plating. Before the smoke had time to clearaway the U-boat had vanished for all time, only a smother of foam anda series of ever-widening concentric circles of iridescent oilmarking her ocean bed.

  Viewed from the deck of the _Portchester Castle_ there could be nodoubt as to the fate of the modern pirate. Simultaneously a deafeningcheer burst from the throats of the British crew. It was a feat to beproud of, sending a hostile submarine to her last account before the_Portchester Castle_ was three days out of port.

  When within signalling distance of the _Douro_ the latter rehoistedher colours and made the "NC" signal, "Immediate assistancerequired".

  "Perhaps the Huns have already begun to scuttle her," remarked TomWebb. "Although I can't detect any sign of a list."

  "We'll soon find out," replied Osborne. "Pipe away the cutter," heordered, in response to a sign from the skipper.

  Quickly the falls were manned, the boat's crew, fully armed,scrambling into the boat as it still swung from the davits.Sub-lieutenant Webb, being the officer in charge, dropped into thestern-sheets.

  "Lower away."

  With a resounding smack the cutter renewed a touching acquaintancewith the water. The falls were disengaged, and, to Webb's encouragingorder, "Give way, lads!" the boat drew clear of the now almoststationary ship, which was within a couple of cables' lengths of the_Douro_.

  "Wonder what's wrong?" thought Webb, for there were still no signsthat the Portuguese vessel had sustained damage. She was rollingheavily in the seaway. Her engines being stopped, she had fallen offin the trough of the sea.

  Rounding under her stern the Sub brought the cutter under the lee ofthe tramp. The bowman dexterously caught a coil of rope thrown by aseaman on the _Douro's_ deck. The trouble was how to board withoutstaving in the cutter's planks against the heaving, rusty sides ofthe tramp.

  The _Douro_ had not come off unscathed in her flight from the Germansubmarine. Under her quarter, and about three feet above thewater-line, were a couple of shell-holes. Fortunately the projectileshad failed to burst, otherwise the tramp would not be still afloat.The missiles had partly demolished the wheel-house and played havocwith the bridge, as the shattered woodwork and the debris thatlittered the deck bore witness. Two of the crew had been slain andthree wounded, as a result of being unable to lift a hand inself-defence, yet the Portuguese skipper had held gallantly on hisway until a sliver of steel from one of the shells had penetrated themain steam-pipe and had rendered the _Douro_ incapable of furtherflight.

  A Jacob's ladder--a flexible wire arrangement with wooden rungs--hadbeen lowered from the tramp's side. At one moment its bottommost endwas swaying far from the vessel's water-line; at another it waspinned hard against her side according to the roll of the ship.Boarding was a difficult--nay, dangerous--business.

  Standing with his feet wide apart on the stern-sheets grating, Webbawaited his opportunity. Then he became aware that his boot wastouching something soft and endowed with life. To his surprise hefound Laddie crouching under the seat.

  Evidently the sheep-dog was under the impression that the boat wasbound for the shore. He had contrived to leap into the cutter as itwas on the point of being lowered, and, although the Sub had notnoticed him, the boat's crew had seen and had winked at the presenceof the canine stowaway.

  "All right, my boy," thought Webb as he made a spring for theswinging ladder. "There you'll have to stop, I fancy. Now you'reproperly dished."

  But the young officer was mistaken. Laddie waited until the last ofthe boarding party had gained the deck of the _Douro_, then,knowingly biding his time until the tramp had rolled away from theboat, he made a spring at the ladder and gained the deck.

  "Good morning, senhor!" exclaimed the Portuguese skipper in very goodEnglish as he greeted the British boarding officer. "We are gratefulfor your assistance. Another five minutes and the _Douro_ no morewould be. I offer my respects to the brave representative of ourancient ally."

  "Thank you, senhor capitan," replied Tom with a bow, for he wasdetermined not to be outdone in courtesy by the grateful Portugueseskipper. "Yes, we have sent that submarine to Davy Jones, I fancy.But I have to convey the compliments of Captain Staggles of HisMajesty's armed merchant-cruiser _Portchester Castle_, and to offeryou any assistance that lies in our power. You have the 'NC' signalflying, I see."

  "Yes," replied the skipper, grinning broadly and shrugging hisshoulders in a manner peculiar to dwellers in southern climes. "Thetrouble, senhor, is this: down below in the fore-hold are sixGermans--men sent on board from the submarine to place explosives inthe hold. They are armed, we are not. Can you get them out for us?"