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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/78784-0.txt b/78784-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b7acd9 --- /dev/null +++ b/78784-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7860 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78784 *** + + + + + + + CAPTAIN KETTLE + ON THE + WAR-PATH + + + BY + + C. J. CUTCLIFFE HYNE + + + + THIRD EDITION + + + + METHUEN & CO. LTD. + 36 ESSEX STREET, W.C. + LONDON + + + + + _First Published ... May 11th, 1916 + Second Edition ..... May 1916 + Third Edition ...... October 1916_ + + Copyrighted in the United States by + C. J. CUTCLIFFE HYNE + + All rights of translation, dramatic and motion picture rights + reserved + + + + + TO + E. + + + + + BY THE SAME AUTHOR + + The Marriage of Kettle + Firemen Hot + Kate Meredith + The Escape Agents + Adventures of Captain Kettle + Mr. Horrocks, Purser + The Filibusters + The Lost Continent + The Little Red Captain + The Recipe for Diamonds + The Paradise Coalboat + Through Arctic Lapland + Further Adventures of Captain Kettle + Thompson's Progress + Captain Kettle, K.C.B. + McTodd + Atoms of Empire + Prince Rupert the Buccaneer + Trials of Commander McTurk + Emperor of The World + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + +I The Supply Ship + +II The Mine-layer + +III Cotton + +IV Gun-runners + +V The Intervening Wire + +VI Rejoining at Once + +VII The Lady Killer + +VIII An Eye for an Eye + +IX That Rhine Tour + +X The Inventor of Meltite + + + + +CAPTAIN KETTLE ON THE WAR-PATH + + + +I + +THE SUPPLY SHIP + +Captain Sir Owen Kettle, K.C.B., shook his head and sighed. "I have +tried everything, sir, from the Flying Corps to Motor Transports and +R.A.M.C., and not one of them will have me. They say I've a wooden +leg." + +"And that's not true," broke in Lady Kettle. "The Captain's is a +high-class American limb that cost £26 18s., even with the discount. +At least, the one he wore when he tried to enlist was. He still has +his old wooden implement (which Mr. McTodd made him), but he only +wears that about home here, and when we've no company. Mr. McTodd +meant well, but he made the leg of Honduras mahogany, and that's too +heavy. It's as good as an extra vest to the Captain when he wears +it." + +"I'd like to show you our roses, sir," said Kettle, by way of getting +rid of a painful subject. "We had mildew on them, but I've syringed +them with a patent mixture of my own, and they're as clean now as a +well-scrubbed deck. I don't mind owning that the mixture is founded +on Quale's Sheep Dip, but I think I shall be able to get Government +protection for my adaptation of it. I have always been anxious, Mr. +Carnforth, to start in the patent medicine trade, and this is my +first opening. 'Try Kettline for mildew on your roses.' It would +sound well on the advertisements, especially with a verse or two of +poetry added. I've got quotations already for space in the +_Gardener's Friend_." + +The big politician looked at the little sailor with a thoughtful eye, +and the unprejudiced observer might have jumped to the conclusion +that he was going to swear. But Mr. Carnforth knew his Kettle from +bitter experience, and passed a cigar case instead, and in his turn +talked roses, their diseases, their colours, and their culture, till +even Captain Kettle had no further views to offer on the topic. And, +at the finish, said he, "Now, my man, if you're fed up on flummery, +we'll get down to bed-rock business. Are you open to killing a few +Germans?" + +"I haven't got a game ticket, sir, but my ten-shilling licence covers +the killing of vermin." + +Martin Carnforth, M.P., grinned. "You're your little old self. In +this case it's the crew of a certain German submarine, number +unknown." + +"I've a lot of theories, sir, about the way to catch submarines. Our +Navy----" + +"Never mind the Navy, and never mind your theories for the moment. +This is a particular vessel which is to be off Ireland--North or +South, I don't know which at present--in a month's time, and I'm not +telling the Admiralty about her because they do nothing. I told the +Admiralty before about a German submarine which would be at a certain +spot within a certain limit of time, and they said my news was of +interest, but policy forbade them to act upon it. That submarine got +busy. She sank seven big steamers in a week, not to mention four +trawlers. We even owned up to four of the steamers and a brace of +trawlers." + +Captain Kettle was openly shocked. "And you a Member of Parliament, +sir!" + +"I'm sick and ashamed of it. Parliament talks and does nothing for +fear of losing its votes and its salaries, and I'm aching to do +something. They won't let me into either of the Services, because +they say I'm too old, and can't see, and am touched in the wind, and +am liable to pains in the carburettor. So I'm going on my own. I'm +going to be a dam' pirate, and if the Navy catches me trying to help +Great Britain, I suppose I shall hang. Question is--will you chip in +with me?" + +"Certainly not," said Lady Kettle. "The Captain's a respectable +gentleman, now." + +"I'll come like a bird," said the little sailor--his red torpedo +beard stuck out aggressively. "By James, Mr. Carnforth, sir, I've +been aching to have a bat at those Dutchmen ever since the war +started. I've only to get my next Sunday's sermon in our chapel +arranged for-- + +"You can leave me to attend to that, Captain," said Lady Kettle, and +there was a distinct gleam of triumph in her eye. "I've never been +allowed in the pulpit yet, Mr. Carnforth, but women must do men's +work in this war-time, and if there's a drop in the collection I'll +know who it is that's short, and she can buy her next week's butter +from Skipton, or where she likes. Not another pound does she have +from this farm." + + +We may pass over, then, a voyage across the Atlantic in the next +packet that sailed, and a train journey through the United States +from Jersey City to New Orleans. In that capital of moist heat and +doubtful drainage they put up at a modest and inconspicuous hotel, +and I regret to say under assumed names. + +"If my name got down here," said Carnforth, "I should find myself in +the papers." + +"If mine got out," said Kettle rather awkwardly, "I'm afraid I should +find myself in gaol. You see, sir, I've been here before. He was +only a thief of a stevedore when we had the bit of trouble, but he's +a political boss now, and Irish, and they say he's a long memory. +But an archdeacon, situated as I was then, couldn't have resisted +giving it that man on the nose." + +"Very well, I'll be Mr. Martin, and you--let me see--you had better +be Colonel Owen. You don't look like a plain mister. And now about +this steamer. My cable says she's the _Grüda_, nominally Norwegian +owned, and under charter to a Chicago firm with a German name." + +"She's a tanker, sir, about 1,800 tons, twin-screw, loaded, and +alongside the levee this minute." + +"Then," said Carnforth, who was a business man, "the next thing to do +is to get passages on her through the pretence that we've got to +leave here in a hurry. Afterwards, when we have found out her +rendezvous with the German submarine, we'll take charge." He +produced from his pocket an automatic pistol and a glass tube full of +small tabloids. "If we can't drug the crew with the chemicals, we'll +have to use the cordite." + +"I rather object to dope, sir. It leaves an awful head afterwards, +as I know, and doping's not quite a white man's trick." + +"My good Captain, you mustn't be too nice-fingered. This war with +Germany is not run under Queensberry rules--they've seen to that. +We've got to win, and you can take it from me we shall have to be +all-in to do it." + +"Well, sir," said Kettle, with a sigh, "you're a Member of +Parliament, and ought to know; and anyway you're, so to speak, my +owner on this trip. You give the orders, and I'll see them through." + +"Right," said the big man, "that's a bargain. And now, as you've +told me many times you're bad at fiction, I'll go and beard the +skipper on the _Grüda_, and bamboozle passages out of him for the +pair of us. I expect it will only be a case of being able to pay +enough." + + +To Captain Sir Owen Kettle, K.C.B., who was anxiously smoking his +fifteenth cigar for the day, Carnforth returned three hours later, +flatly discouraged. + +"The captain of that tanker was hopeless. I appealed to his better +feelings, and I appealed to his pocket, and one might as well have +tried to work on the conscience of an alligator. I tried the agent: +he said if I didn't get to hell quick on my own accord, he'd send me +there. I rang up the runner who is to supply the crew, and he said +he was full already. And the boat sails with to-morrow's daylight." + +Kettle took his cigar from his mouth and examined the tip. "And who +was the runner, sir?" + +"Morrissey. Keeps a flash saloon about two blocks off Canal Street, +on the French side." + +"That's luck about Morrissey. Well, Mr. Carnforth, we might get +shipped still, but the method won't be pleasant." + +"I'll stomach anything to get success. What's the scheme?" + +But Captain Kettle would divulge no details. Only after they had +dined, and put in a couple of hours at a movies show where even a +Polar whaling picture could hardly check the perspiration, he led +with easy assurance through the crowded traffic of Canal Street to +Mr. Morrissey's saloon. + +"Seem to know your way," Carnforth commented. + +"I've been in New Orleans before," Kettle admitted. "Evening, Mr. +Morrissey." + +"By the piper! You! I thought, Captain, you'd have died of +lead-poisoning ten times over before this. And why are you +gladdening N'Orleans? You haven't a ship here, or even down at the +quarantine station." + +"I want a ship. D'you know of one, Morrissey?" + +"That takes a bit of thinking over, and I dare say you don't want to +discuss your particular troubles before the beauty and fashion in the +bar here. Come to my private room. Will you bring your friend?" + +"Please. He wants to ship with me." + +"We'll see what can be done. Just shut the door behind you, +Mr.--er--Martin, I think you said your friend's name was, Captain? +Bourbon or rye? I know you dislike our Scotch, Captain, because of +its Chicago accent, though I always drink it myself. You see I've a +good memory. Rye for you, eh, and Bourbon for your friend? Help +yourselves. Make it a high-ball, if you like. Here's the squirt. +Mine for the good old Scotch. You're looking at my nose, Captain, +and I tell you it cost me a lot to have it put straight. But that's +all past and over now, isn't it? Here's chin-chin!" + +The saloon-keeper brimmed with affability, and, to Carnforth's +surprise, Captain Kettle was affable also. He let the gross +politician suggest rogueries and familiarities unspeakable. He +allowed himself to be plied with whisky, and insisted that Carnforth +should drink level. And he insisted on obtaining from his host +promises of future employment which a child might have known that +apoplectic person had not the smallest intention of making good. + + +From then onwards the evening seemed to fade out. + +Carnforth, awaking with a splitting head and a brazen taste in his +mouth, tried to reconstruct the details of the orgy without success. +One thing he was sure about--he had not been drunk. He knew his +capacity to a glass, and had not been within a bottle of it. And he +was similarly confident about Captain Kettle. That mariner's iron +head could have seen Mr. Morrissey under the table three times over. +But who had taken him back to the hotel and put him to bed, and why +was the hotel so full of grumbling, rumbling machinery? + +At that point Carnforth waked a trifle more, stretched himself +gingerly (as he found he was a mass of bruises and aches), and +discovered he was not in the hotel at all. He was in a room that was +warm and smelt of grease, and he was lying on the wooden floor of a +box that reminded him of a coffin. Then he recognized it as a +steamer's bunk. + +"Glad to see you're coming round, sir," said a voice from the gloom. +"Morrissey's done it pretty thoroughly, hasn't he? The swine's even +stolen my best leg." + +"That you, Kettle? D'you know where we are? Looks to me we're on a +steamer." + +"We're where we wanted to get. We're on the _Grüda_, sir, and by the +way her wheel engines are clattering we must be navigating that +twisty bit below the quarantine station before you get to the Port +Edes pass, and the pilot's nervous of piling her up on a sand bar. +Drat these mosquitoes. Do you recognize the good old Mississippi +smell?" + +"Then we've been--what d'you call it--shanghaied?" + +"That's right, sir. I guess we asked for it, and Morrissey very +kindly did the rest. A man with a good memory, sir, Morrissey, and I +must own I did make a bad mess of his nose, that time I attended to +him. Great James! but I have a head and a mouth on me! I told you, +sir, dope was filthy stuff." + +"Well, I've lost my stock of that and my gun as well. It strikes me +that now we are here we can't do any good." + +"Oh, that'll be all right when the time comes," said the little +sailor. "No use looking for trouble on ahead, sir. And now I should +advise getting a spell of sleep for as much as we're let, though I +don't suppose that will be for long." + +It turned out there were five other drugged men in the bunks beside +them; the _Grüda's_ errand was not sufficiently popular to enable her +to ship a crew by above-board means; and when the pilot was dropped +by the Port Edes light, and the steamer lifted to the heave of a +brisk Norther in the Gulf outside, the need for hands became +apparent, and large-booted mates proceeded to rouse the sleepers +after the time-honoured methods. + +All grumbled, and all were driven. Martin Carnforth, Esq., M.P., +found that his name was Olsen and his destiny the stokehold. He went +there, escorted by a volley of kicks. Kettle, after being yanked +violently out of his bunk on to the iron deck below, was discovered +to be a cripple, and was virulently abused for this misfortune. + +"I'll knock the stuffing out of Morrissey next time I see Noo +Orleans," said the _Grüda's_ mate, "for charging me for a whole man +and only shipping a half one. Get up, you unipod." + +Captain Kettle was yanked back to the vertical, and lost the remains +of his temper. His skilled fingers shot out and seized a handful of +the Mate's shaggy hair, and with that leverage he banged the man's +head against an iron stanchion till he howled for mercy. + +"Will you promise to treat me decently whilst I'm on this ship if I +don't kill you now?" + +"Ja----si----yes. What coundymans was you? You're name's nod +Schlich." + +"Seems that's the name I was shipped under, and therefore it's good +enough for you. Where's my jury leg?" + +"If it was worth a nickel, Morrissey's got it. An' he's beyond +reach. We don' carry no spare legs in our slop-chest, but I'll have +Chips make you one right now, and when you've got that shipped, +you'll turn to as pantryman. Unnerstan'? Say 'sir' when you answer +me." + +"Aye aye, sir," said Captain Kettle cheerfully, and the mate, keeping +a wary eye on him, backed out of the forecastle. + +The _Grüda_ crossed the Mexican Gulf amongst silvery flying fish and +islands of amber-yellow weed, rounded Florida with its screw-pile +lights, and swirled North with the Gulf Stream. She bellowed her way +through the fogs on the Banks, and missed a Miquelon fishing schooner +by the short hairs. And then she butted her stolid path across the +Western Ocean, exuding smells of petroleum and fried onions. + +Her pantryman did his work, and called little attention to himself. +His immediate master, the cabin steward, himself an untidy creature, +commented on his frequent drawings of clothes from the slop-chest. + +"You'll have no wages to pouch at the far end if you put so much on +your back," said the steward. + +"I know," said Kettle. "But I like to feel clean and neat. Where is +the far end? I haven't the muzziest notion of where I signed on to." + +"Oh, 'Kjobnhavn or orders,'" said the steward. "Probably 'orders'!" + +"I don't believe there's a soul on board knows where we're bound +for," said Captain Kettle to Carnforth that night as they sat +together on the poop companion. + +"What, not even the skipper?" + +"Not even the captain, sir. At least he's a liar if he does. +According to Mr. Mate, we're heading about for the middle of +Ireland--say Limerick. I heard Mr. Mate ask the Old Man at tea +to-night if that was our port, and the Old Man said he knew no more +than the ship's tom cat." + +But next day a new development showed itself. A span of wires was +hoisted between the two mast-heads, and presently the crackle and +spit of wireless broke out from the chart-house. For another day +nothing happened, and the _Grüda_ loafed along at a steady +half-speed. Then orders sharp and insistent evidently arrived out of +space, and the tanker swung off on to a new course. + +"Now we shan't be long," said Carnforth when he came off watch, and +the pair were for a minute alone together. "I'm hanged if I can see +what we can do. Have you managed to pinch a gun?" + +"It's rather astonishing, sir, but I don't think, there's such a +thing on board. They're an amazing lot of haymakers. We must tackle +them, when the time comes, without that." + +"Then you have a scheme?" + +"I've ten, sir, but I don't know yet which will come into use. We +must 'wait and see,' as you politicians say when your heads are empty +of ideas." + +"Well, I'm going to do something. I'll set fire to the petrol as the +submarine's taking it on board, sooner than she shall go off with it. +I suppose we shall get killed, but I'm not going home with nothing +done." + +"We shall not get killed, Mr. Carnforth, sir, and we shall do in the +beastly Dutchmen all right. I make a point, sir, of never getting +killed. If you fix in your mind beforehand that you are going to do +your job and come through safe, you'll do it. I've proved that a +hundred times, so I know. The main thing that's troubling me is +Kettline." + +"Is what?" + +"That mixture of mine that is such death to mildew on roses. Lady +Kettle was, as you know, sir, a business lady before I knew her, and +she's been a business lady most of her life since. But you know what +the sex is when it comes to bucking about gardens. If any one says +how clean our roses are, she'll think no more about giving away the +recipe than you would about telling your fellow politicians the name +of your favourite throat tabloid." + +"Well," said Carnforth impatiently. "I don't see that it matters." + +"It matters all the time, sir. If that recipe goes to the wrong ear +there's my patent jumped before you can say 'slug.' It's taken me +ten years hard gardening, sir, to bring that mixture to its present +perfection, and now I'm likely to have had all my trouble and +chemistry for nothing." + +"Better ask the skipper for the loan of the wireless," said Carnforth +sarcastically, "and ring up your wife and tell her to take care." + +"By James, sir," said Kettle, "that's a sound idea. The minute we've +sunk that submarine I'll do it. But, for the time being, the +submarine comes first, before," he added regretfully, "before even +roses. Curse these Dutchmen. They're always getting in the way of +something, and always will, I suppose, till they're all wiped out. +Well, sir, there are a lot of wipers knocking about the world just +now, that's one comfort." + +Carnforth was tired and stiff with his unaccustomed work. He got up +rustily. "Well," he said, "wait and see is all right, I dare say, +for our tin-pot politics, but it is rather a poor sort of +prescription for the serious business of war. Can't you give me +something better to go on?" + +"Yes, sir, I can. This ship is fitted with iron belaying-pins, and +they're many of them loose. Learn to an inch where the loose ones +are, so that you can always lay your hand on the nearest, either by +night or day, without a wink-time's waste. If you have to hit with +one, hit to kill. This is red war we've ahead of us, Mr. Carnforth, +and it's either us or them, and don't you forget it, because they +won't. Great James, there's my bell. I must go." + +Three times the _Grüda_ changed her course in answer to the invisible +orders, which gave a hint that the boat they were hurrying towards +was not waiting for them placidly. Once all heads were drawn to the +rail by the sight of a wrecked trawler's dinghy, and a patch of +floating fish-boxes, and another time they steamed through a +stinking, hobbling shoal of drowned and bloated mules. Three +drowning cattlemen sailed with the mules as a sightless guard. + +Here were signs enough of the outskirts of war, but the _Grüda's_ +company remained placid. They were neutrals; if a British warship +visited them their papers were all in order; and, for the rest, it +was their full right to sail the seas and gather kroner whilst they +might. + +Then the wireless spoke again, and the scent grew hotter. Word was +given to the engine-room that from then till the business was over +the fullest head of steam was to be kept ready for instant use, and +the devil take fuel consumption. Two derrick-booms were slung +overside and their goose-necks dropped into sockets riveted on to the +ship's plating ready for them. The booms had lifts and braces so +that the submarine could be moored between them, and lie there snugly +alongside without danger of some sudden western ocean swell rolling +the steamer down on the top of her. Oil hoses were ranged, pumps +given a trial run, hoists rigged, and all made coolly ready. + +The Norwegian captain had little to say in all this. The wireless +man took over complete charge, and the ship's company were given to +understand that here was the complete Prussian Naval Officer who +could and would deal out death, if necessary, without an +afterthought. He, at any rate, would have a revolver handy +somewhere, and Captain Kettle--the ship's pantryman--puzzled as to +where the man had it stowed. But the _Grüda's_ crew regarded the +Prussian with bovine unconcern. + +Suddenly out of the near horizon the submarine leapt into sight at +nineteen knots. She swooped down, turning in a narrow circle, and +made fast cleverly to the booms that were waiting for her. Captain +Kettle mentally took off his cap to the smartness of her seamanship. + +She was an uncouth devil of a vessel with low freeboard and ugly +excrescences along her decks, especially amidships, and she bristled +with dirty, scrubble-bearded men who knew exactly what to do, and did +it at the double. Six of them came on to the tanker, all shod with +especially heavy knee-boots, which they used mercilessly on the +Norwegians--particularly on the boot-using mates and +skipper--whenever the speed of work was not entirely up to their +standard. One with Zeiss binoculars round his neck was bowsed up to +the foremast truck, and swung there on a bo's'n's chair, and peered +round, and declared the seas empty. The rest of them saw to passing +the oil hose, and to whipping up Whitehead torpedoes out of the +carrier's hold, and gingerly transhipping these across to their own +craft. + +A grimy stoker crept out of the alleyway into the pantry and hissed a +whisper into the pantryman's ear. "Good God, man, you see what they +are doing. Are we going to do nothing?" + +The pantryman cocked his red-pointed beard truculently. "What can we +do?" he snapped. + +"Go and bash in an end of one of those Whiteheads, and send the whole +outfit of us to hell together. I'll do the trick. It's worth it." + +"The torpedoes won't have their heads filled. They'll do that after +transhipment." + +"Then what are you going to do?" + +"To use your phrase, sir, you must 'wait and see.'" + +"Oh, to the devil with your politics," said Carnforth, M.P., and +flung off in a black rage. + +Once from the look-out at the tanker's masthead came an alarm (in +German, of which Captain Kettle could only grasp the general sense), +and work went on at a still more furious pace, though the submarine +was ready to slip and be away at a moment's notice. As certain +people, on their friend, the neutral, seemed restive, they cast loose +the two 3-inch guns they carried forward and aft, and trained them +point blank on the _Grüda's_ bowels. They were unmannerly brutes, +these Germans, but in the business of war they were eminently +business-like. Their motto was, "Win somehow, anyhow. Explain away +awkward details afterwards." + +The Whiteheads got handed down without mishap, but an unpleasant +incident came about through the passing across of a 3-inch shell. +Either one of the maltreated Norwegians set the fuse for short time, +or there was a jar that upset the nerves of the high explosive +inside, or some other trifle outside the ordinary routine occurred; +the present deponent is ignorant of the details; but, anyway, the +result was an explosion, half-hearted perhaps, still, anyway vehement +enough to kill outright two German sailors, and seriously damage a +third. + +A crisp order spat out from the conning-tower, and all three were +booted over into the Atlantic, and work went on in its smooth +routine. The officers of the submarine had no use for either the +dead or the inefficient. + +When they were filled up with fuel and ammunition, they demanded food +and drink--especially drink. The Norwegian captain had no order for +this, and objected. A second afterwards that Norwegian captain was +focusing both his eyes down the black hole which exists in the middle +of a revolver barrel. Expert collectors raided pantry and +storerooms, and the _Grüda's_ pantryman helped them. The pantryman +was thinking hard, but didn't see his way to resist just then. The +pantryman was addressed in German, but not having a good command of +that tongue, replied in fluent Arabic, which he thought at the moment +was less dangerous than English. In the distance a rugged +black-faced stoker danced and raged, but the pantryman declined to +see him. + +Finally, when their ship was full of fuel, and munitions, and +provisions, the Germans decided they might stretch their limbs and +their lungs. They were taking no chances, but as their man at the +_Grüda's_ foremast head reported the sea all round as still clear, +they hauled up the chief engineer's two-and-a-half octave harmonium +on deck, and a professional pianist amongst them played waltz tunes. +The rest danced. They danced heavily (being shod with knee boots), +and danced ungracefully, but they danced with energy, as beseems men +who were keeping in condition entirely for the good of their Empire. +When they slackened at all in their dance, one or other of their +officers beat them brutally with a knotted rope's end. + +The German officers sat on the engine-room skylight, and drank +Milwaukee beer, which was the only liquor other than water remaining +in the _Grüda's_ store, and smoked their own cigars. They drank this +thin lager to the waltz music at such a rate that the cabin steward +had to call up his pantryman to help open the bottles; and they sat +till they had finished the stock; their crew, be it well understood, +being still employed in that heavy athletic dance. + +When no further bottles were forthcoming the German captain gave the +order for all of his hands to get aboard, and followed them himself, +nimbly enough, the submarine lying on the port side of the supply +ship, and curtsying decorously between the booms to which she was +tethered fore and aft. + +The Norwegian captain, insulted, flushed, and ashamed, mounted to his +own bridge, and there was present with him also just the +quartermaster at the wheel. On the decks of the submarine men were +battening down the hatches which received the Whiteheads, the stores, +and the petrol. Other hands were standing-by the head and +stern-fasts. She was quite ready to be off again on her cheery game +of murder. + +The German captain, somewhat gravid with the beer, climbed by the +outside beckets to the deck of the conning-tower, and then gave the +word to "let go forrard." + +At that moment Captain Kettle arrived on the _Grüda's_ upper bridge. +There was no mistaking him for the ship's pantryman, and the +Norwegian captain did not so mistake him. He limped (because of his +carpenter-made wooden leg), he was dressed in steward's kit, but the +Norwegian's words were: + +"What do you here, captain?" + +There was no time for argument--or for losing the benefit of the +surprise. Captain Kettle threw the Norwegian skipper violently down +the ladder, laid out the quartermaster with a scientific jab on the +point of the jaw, and slammed down the telegraph of the starboard +engine to "Full speed ahead." + +The German captain of the submarine, to give him his due, saw the +whole thing as soon as it was done--and two seconds of time covered +it from first to last--and acted on the tick. He also ordered "Full +speed ahead," and though his engines (being Diesels) were a shade +slower in responding, the mass of his vessel was far less than that +of the _Grüda_, and he got way on her far more swiftly. In the +meantime he whipped out an automatic pistol, and bombarded Kettle +with vicious energy. + +That small mariner, however, had the height of the _Grüda's_ bridge +in comparison with the low freeboard of the submarine in his favour, +and with the wheel in his hands, as soon as his tanker gathered +steerage way, had the game his own way. Steamer and submarine met +nose to nose almost, as the gap between them grew smaller; and the +_Grüda's_ forefoot scraped down the war vessel's side, unshipping her +starboard diving rudders, and disarranging her fittings generally; +and then Kettle rang on both engines, and the submarine's stern sank +under the pressure, and the larger ship lifted, and drove over the +top of her. + +The submarine's conning-tower hatch was still open, and if she had +been allowed due time she would have filled and sunk. But as +frequently happens at sea, the unforeseen intervened. + +The _Grüda's_ forefoot dinged in one of her adversary's plates, which +in its turn depressed a stringer, which impinged on one of her stern +torpedo-tubes. The inbending of the tube pressed home the striker of +the Whitehead inside it, and Vesuvius burst forth in the Atlantic off +the Irish Coast. The yell of the explosion was loud enough to split +Heaven. The submarine was a mere magazine of high explosives, and +the firing of the first Whitehead, in-board, touched off all the lot. + +When things calmed down again there was no submarine, or trace of +one, the _Grüda_ was badly by the head, and obviously settling down +for good, and a black-faced stoker was on the upper bridge rather +hysterically demanding of high Heaven how Captain Kettle dared do all +these things without consulting him. Captain Kettle from somewhere +had procured a cigar, which he carried, cocked high in the starboard +angle of his mouth, and from which he was smoking complacently. He +was feeling that pleasant satisfaction which comes to a man after a +good morning's work. + +The _Grüda_, as it turned out, descended to the sea-floor much more +hurriedly than anyone expected. "The forward bulkhead will keep her +up," said everybody, but either she was holed aft of that, or the +forward bulkhead gave--which, I do not know, and am not going to dive +to the Atlantic floor to discover. Anyway, she started to sink with +alarming suddenness, and the port quarter life-boat's falls proved to +be rotten, and emptied out her people just before she reached the +water. The starboard life-boat was lowered successfully, but would +take neither Kettle nor Carnforth, though why they objected to +Carnforth I fail to see. However, the wireless man, who said he was +a Prussian, and who carried a revolver (and who showed it to them +then) declined to allow their coming on board, and that starboard +boat rowed off in sulky silence. + +"We'd better haul up the other boat and provision her," said +Carnforth, who was always cool at sea, even if he was invariably +ignorant of seafaring matters. + +"I'm afraid there's no time, sir," said Captain Kettle politely. "If +you will follow me down the falls we'll try and unhook and then swim +away before this steamboat founders and sucks us down with her. +Incidentally, when the cold water gets to the boilers they will +collapse, and may blow her up any minute." + +"Oh Lord, man, don't wait to talk," said Carnforth, and slid down one +fall whilst Kettle gained the water by the other. And promptly they +both swam at the full of their speed away from the danger spot, +though when the man with two legs found he was distancing the man +with one, he pretended tiredness and eased his pace. + +But the tanker was not long in her agony. She blew out her decks +quite decorously, reared to the vertical, and sank with hardly a +bubble. + +"And now," said Captain Kettle, "about-ship, sir, please, and we'll +try and right that boat." + +So back they swam, heavily and wearily (being more than middle-aged +men), and reached the boat some five minutes after each had decided +he could swim no longer, but would hang on just to encourage the +other man. They clung to the boat's life-lines, panting, half +delirious with fatigue and chill, but with pluck and stamina pulling +them gradually round. + +At last, just as Carnforth was beginning to put in a suggestion that +they should try and right the boat, there came a fresh surprise. + +"_W-s-s-h. Sp-l-o-s-sh!_" + +"_W-s-s-h. C-r-r-ash!_" + +"My Great James!" said Kettle, "that's shellfire," and worked himself +round to the other side of the boat to see further. Then he came +back again, and---- "Keep your head down, sir," said he. + +"There's another Dutch submarine turned up." + +"What's she firing at?" + +"Those wretched Sowegians in the starboard life-boat. She's sunk the +lot of them, and now she's motoring away." + +"The brutes! Their own friends, too! The unspeakable brutes. My +God, that's the way Germans make war!" + +"Dead men tell no tales, sir. They thought those Sowegians knew too +much. We can thank the Lord, sir, they saw this boat was wrong side +up. We'll wait, if you please, till they're hull-down before we try +to right her." + +How that port life-boat was turned on to her keel again, baled, and +navigated to the distant Irish Coast, I do not propose to record +here, as there is another tale connected with it which would be too +long in the telling. But a conversation between Captain Kettle and +Mr. Carnforth whilst they were thawing themselves out with bad whisky +and a peat fire after their landing hangs in my mind. + +"Is there a telegraph office here, Pat?" asked the M.P. + +"There is then, yer 'annar," said the landlord. "It's the best in +Ireland when the lines is working." + +"Good, then, I'll get off a wire." + +"I'll be obliged, sir," said Captain Kettle, "if you'd let me send a +message first. I want to get early word to my wife to keep quiet +about that use of Quale's Sheep Dip for roses. It is highly +important she shouldn't talk on the subject. I want you to +understand this means a lot to me, sir." + +Carnforth was shaken with a gust of laughter. "Oh, go on, man, by +all means," he said at last. "I was only going to tell the Admiralty +about our bag, and they'll probably want to hang us for piracy and +for doing what they hadn't the sense to think of. But don't you +worry about me. Your message is far more important." + + + + +II + +THE MINE-LAYER + +The _Grimsby Twins'_ otter trawl was down, scratching up fish from +the Dogger below, and John Henry Shepherd, the elder of the twins, +was smoking in the wheelhouse, and keeping the little steamboat +approximately on her course. Arthur Cleethorpes Shepherd, his +brother, and the only other hand on deck, was seated with his back +against the main hatch, reading war news from a stale copy of the +_Grimsby Gazette_. + +To them came the strains of ecclesiastical music from the cabin +skylight, proving that Captain Shepherd was awake, and was working +his way through Messrs. Moody and Sankey's "Collection of Hymns." +The steam trawler _Grimsby Twins'_ harmonium had a compass of two +octaves only, but Captain Shepherd was a resourceful man, and when +his music encroached beyond these narrow limits, he whistled the +missing notes with his own lips, very efficiently. Mixed with the +music that came from the skylight there drifted a fine aroma of +onions, hinting that tea (with fried cod sounds) was under way, and +that presently the watch would be changed. + +"'Ote fresh i' t' paper, Clee?" called out John Henry. + +"Aye, they're asking for more hands for them trawlers they've set on +at mine-sweeping. I wish to God the old man would let us go." + +"Well, he won't," said the elder twin in a husky whisper. "Said only +just now when I took the wheel from him that all war was a crime and +a mistake, and recommended me when she was steering easy to put up a +bit of prayer to be delivered from the sin of wanting to chip in. +I've a durn good mind---- Hey, Clee, what's that packet coming out +of the mist ahead there?" He grabbed the binoculars from their box, +and clapped them to his eyes. "It's a Grimsby man GY. 4696! Why +there's no such number." + +"Looks to me more like a Dutch boat." + +"Looks to me like that Lowestoft craft, the _Bishop Something_." + +"_Bishop Argles_. That's her. You can tell by that fancy vane Old +Man Argles shipped on his fore-truck. But she's strangely mucked up. +Those Lowestoft fellows have the queerest ideas of fishing. What for +have they got that big derrick rigged aft?" + +* * * * * + +It was at this moment the steam trawler _Grimsby Twins_ struck the +mine. She had missed it with her bows by a good fathom, but the drag +of the heavy trawl warp over the quarter made her gait somewhat +crab-wise, and with the help of a lifting swell she dropped down on +the infernal machine almost amidships, so that one of its strikers +was rammed thoroughly home by a downward blow from her starboard +bilge keel. + +Captain Shepherd's first intimation of disaster was being plucked +from the harmonium stool by some unseen force, and flung violently +against the cabin roof. The yell of the explosion, and the crash of +smashing steel and iron came to him next, and by the time he had +fallen back to the cabin floor, the stink of the yellow melinite +fumes was making him cough and choke. The companionway was gushing +wreckage and seawater, and he reached the deck by a scramble through +the skylight. + +His vessel was in two halves. Already the forward half was cruising +away drunkenly by itself, with four dazed fishermen hanging on to the +windlass; the poop end was sinking visibly; and in the churning water +between the two, there swirled about the dead and shattered bodies of +his two twin sons, one of them headless. + +Ice was hot compared with the trawler's skipper's coolness then. In +an instant of time all that he loved in the world, and all that he +owned in the world was plucked from him. He did not whimper; he did +not, after the manner of his kind, bombard heaven and all beneath it +with furious curses; instead he gazed with stolid eyes at the other +trawler looming through the mist ahead, and nodded slowly. + +"It's what they said," he muttered, "and what I wouldn't +believe--mines sown broadcast over the North Sea by those +dog-begotten Dutchmen. O God, forgive me for not believing before +what the British Government said, and give me life to pay back a bit +of what I owe. Amen." + +After which prayer he jumped overboard and swam to the _Grimsby +Twins'_ boat, which had been blown clear and floated undamaged. Then +he clambered into her, and set about rescuing those of his men who +still floated about on wreckage. + +* * * * * + +The council of war which decided the fate of some 3,000 men, and (it +is said) no less than five German ships of war, took place in the +trawler's jolly boat some twenty minutes later. There were seven men +on board of her, including Captain Shepherd, as survivors of the +fishing steamer's complement, and two of them were wounded, one +badly. Amongst them, also wet and miserable, and with his fur +stained yellow by the explosive, was Joe, the trawler's cat. + +"I suppose most of you think that good old Grimsby's the place we +want to see next?" began Captain Shepherd. + +"You pet," said Olssen, the Third Hand. + +"I'm no' sure," said McCrae, Chief Engineer, looking hard at his +superior officer. + +"You're thinking of Jimmy, Mac?" suggested Captain Shepherd. + +"I am, Cap. He was ma' sister's son." + +"And he's now down--or parts of him are--amongst the cod on the Bank +below. Olssen, your brother's not here, either?" + +"_Nein._" + +"Nor your boy, Dick?" + +"He was smashed to a pulp, with young Olssen by the winch falling on +them," said old Dick. He clutched at a sob in his throat. "A +splendid lad he was, too, the young beggar. And there were your two +pups and all, skipper. I saw them go out, too, in the middle of that +stinking yellow smoke. We've always been a bit of what you might +call a family ship. Very comfortable, too, and no trouble ever that +meant anything. I'm sorry them cod sounds I was frying for you was +wasted, chaps." + +Captain Shepherd nodded to the compliment, and then hit the gunwale a +hard blow with his fist to call the meeting to business. "Look here, +men. We've all suffered, and we've got to get busy if we're going to +show ourselves better than Joe and do anything besides meauling. +I'll own up I've been a man with a wrong idea. I've been led away by +a discourse once given in our chapel which said that at bottom the +Dutchmen were fellers just like ourselves, and only wanted a bit of +argument and some prayers to make them reasonable. That's wrong. +What they want is hell, and I'm the man to give it them. Do you come +in on the usual share terms as arranged for this fishing fleet?" + +"If we were fitted as a man-o'-war," said McCrae cautiously, "I'd be +wi' ye on the nod." He indicated with the wave of a hand the heavily +built boat that carried them lumberingly over the fog-covered swells. +"This is all I can see beyond the end of ma' neb at present. But +perhaps you've a scheme, Cap?" + +"Aye," said Captain Shepherd heavily, "I have what you might call a +strategy in my head. Man and boy I've fished the Dogger (with short +holidays in the Iceland seas) these forty years, and I know it, +sea-bank and sea-top, better than most. I know the ways of the cod, +I know the thoughts of the men that fish them, and I know the tracks +of the shipping, come fog, come fine, as a North Sea fisherman +should. I got but one short look at yon spawn of Beelzebub that was +laying those mines from Tommy Argles' boat--I bet some language came +out when they cut Tommy's throat, by the way--and she was steering +North an' by East to half a tick-tack. Now do you see the scheme?" + +They didn't. + +Captain Shepherd went on patiently to explain. "They'll lay one line +of mines across the ship track from South to North, and then when +they've covered it they'll turn and lay another parallel to it, so +that a ship that misses one line will be gathered by the next." + +McCrae held up a brown hand and spat into it. "That's sound +metapheesics. Cap, it's a pleasure to listen to ye. Go on." + +"We'll pull out West from here; we'll with God's help miss the mines +in the first line--and fellers you can take it from me, He will help +us--and we'll wait for Mister Blessed Murder-Spreader as he comes +down on his next trip. Then we'll get aboard and attend to his +people, and when we've done that, I'll tell you what we'll do next. +Any objections?" + +They looked at one another thoughtfully, and conned the matter over. +Your East Coast fisherman is always a mightily independent person, +and sees to it that his private opinion has full weight. But there +was no amendment, and the heavy boat was got under way. + +Captain Shepherd, wooden-faced and silent, tucked his arm over an oar +in the stern notch and steered. As utensils of navigation, he had a +watch-chain compass, a big silver watch, and his nose, and he held a +course through the fog as unfalteringly as a keeper might tread +across familiar heather. Thrice they saw steam trawlers from Hull +and Grimsby and Scarboro'; once they were hailed; but they made no +attempt to break their voyage, or even to give hint of its purpose. +They were all of them silent except Joe, the cat. Joe having less +control than his betters, spat and swore aloud as he licked the +yellow melinite stain from his salty fur. + +"We don't want the Navy butting in," Captain Shepherd had said as an +afterthought; "we'll make this a fisherman's job; and if afterwards +they say we're a pack of pirates, well, I hope they'll have to own +we're efficient pirates. The dead were our dead, and we're going to +arrange the funeral ceremony without help or interference. Spell-o +at those oars. Two of you other fellers take a turn now." + +The mine-laying trawler crossed their track on its return trip +exactly as Captain Shepherd had calculated, and though her look-out +saw them and commented, the officer in charge made no attempt to slow +down or pick them up. But some such courtesy as this had been +anticipated; the boat lay in the steamer's track, stern to bow, and +at full pressure on her oars; and under Captain Shepherd's handling +she presently rasped down the trawler's side. Men who spend their +lives boarding fish on to the carriers in all varieties of North Sea +weather are impossible to beat at that sort of game. + +What followed was by no means massacre. The seven men tumbled over +on to the mine-cluttered decks without resistance, certainly, the cat +following them; they had two iron belaying pins amongst them, and +quickly picked up other weapons; but if it had not been for the +surprise of their boarding they would have been driven over into the +sea whence they came in quick time. But the surprise gave them the +first start, and their toughness and the wild ferocity of their +attack did the rest. + +Captain Shepherd found an axe, and wielded it bloodily. They cleared +the main deck under a spray of revolver bullets from an officer in +the pilot house. Captain Shepherd went for him, ignoring the +revolver, and got the axe well home on his right shoulder blade. He +clove him through to the middle. There was no asking for or giving +quarter on the English side, and when two or three of the Germans +threw up their hands in surrender they were merely clubbed and slung +overside as though they had been dog-fish. + +The invaders cleared the decks of Germans, and then went below to +forecastle, engine-room and cabin, and killed there, leaving only two +alive. These two were English and in the stokehold, and heard hard +things from their saviours about Englishmen who even under duress +work for Germans and do not kill them. "So back to your kennel, you +whipped pups," said Captain Shepherd at the end of his discourse on +their personal appearance and behaviour, "and keep a full head of +steam. We're away to the S'uth'ard and East'ard on pressing +business.... Are you other fellers all sound? Where's Albert Henry?" + +"Albert Henry got a bayonet in his stomach, and clapped his arms +round the Dutchman that put it there and jumped with him into the +ditch." + +"And I think Hull Harry died just as we boarded. He must have been +worse hurt than we guessed at when the _Twins_ blew up." + +"That leaves five," said Captain Shepherd. "You, Olssen, take the +wheel. Your course is Sou' East 'n by East. Mac, get below and +learn up the coffee mill, and rub the fear o' God into those +putty-livers that are firing her. And the rest of you swill down +decks. I'm going to worry out how these mines are launched, and I +want a clear head for it, so don't any of you fellers disturb me.... +Oh yes, and there's one other thing. One of you hunt up a Dutch +ensign: they're bound to have one aboard: and get it bent on to the +signal halyards and ready to break out if any of their cruisers +overhaul us." + +The fishermen obeyed these orders none too promptly. They were all +of them more or less cut and scratched, and to start with they gave +one another rough first aid. Then (at Dick's suggestion) they raided +galley and larder and pocketed a meal; and then (with food to refer +to between whiles) they started to work, and each, according to the +North Sea habit, set himself to do two men's toil. + +In the meantime Captain Shepherd, who had never in his life seen a +floating sea-mine, either on a ship's deck or elsewhere, set to work +to puzzle out from the mass of boiler-iron and steel cable before him +how he could sink, burn, and destroy his hated enemies without +blowing up the steam trawler _Bishop Argles_ in the process. After +he had done a given amount of execution he did not in the least mind +what became of her or for that matter of himself or his crew. He was +a man now entirely reckless, and if he gave a thought for his mates, +concluded they were the same. He had received irreparable injury: +the bigger injury he could do to any German in return, the happier he +would die: that was all. + +The ravelling out of the plan for a fleet of floating sea-mines is no +job for an amateur. But Captain Shepherd was not the ordinary layman +in this matter. He was a North Sea fisherman, which is as much as to +say that he was mechanic, sailorman, carpenter and rule-of-thumb +scientist combined, and he picked up intelligently the details of +mooring tackle, riding cables, depth adjustment, striker adjustment, +and all the rest of the intricate detail. He reasoned it out +piecemeal from A to Z, and back again tediously from Z to A, slurring +over nothing, concentrating thoughtfully on every doubtful point till +it became entirely clear. Now and again Joe bumped a sympathetic +nose against his leg, and he always pulled the cat's tail gratefully +in recognition of the attention. + +The North Sea too was kind to them in being comfortably covered with +fog. In fine weather Captain Shepherd was no better navigator than +any other man who has grasped the truths of Norie's Epitome. But in +a thick grey blanket of fog, even amongst the fisher skippers there +were few to equal him. With a sluggish compass on a pole, a handful +of tallow smeared into the bottom of a lead, and a nose to sniff the +wet air, he could feel his way from any one part of the North Sea +waste to any other part with unfaltering accuracy. + +At intervals a hand would bring the lead to him, and he would examine +and sniff at the arming.--"H'm, sand and small shells, and one of +them brown creepy things, and that crisp brass wire smell. We are +just off the Sou' East corner of that hole where I carried away a +trawl-beam in Nought-one. Tell Olssen to give her half a point more +starboard, and take another cast of the lead in twenty minutes, and +if there's black sand with these same shells, you needn't bother me +for another hour. I guess that half point will just overtake the +drift." + +So on across his chosen line to the German coast. Captain Shepherd +did not trouble with charts. He carried an accurate map of the +contours of the North Sea floor in his head, and had resourcefulness +enough for all other requirements. + +Once he was hailed by a hurrying German destroyer, but had backed +away into the fog with a ported helm by the time she had come to look +for him, and so escaped inquiries. But the incident gave him an +idea. He went to the engine room skylight, and hailed down to one of +his impressed stokers. + +"Hey, you putty-feller there, what did the Dutchmen do with your +fishing gear when they took you?" + +"Slung it overboard, sir." + +"All of it?" + +"All of it except the warps." + +"Did they jettison the otter boards?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"But didn't Captain Argles carry a spare?" + +The two stokers consulted. "Yes, sir, there's a spare otter board +used as a floor to one of the fish boxes." + +"Good," said Captain, and proceeded to get it on deck. "We'll call +the depth here twenty-six fathoms, and we'll shackle one of these +devil's machines on to the otter board with enough drift of painter +to keep it just under the surface when we're towing it out a quarter +of a mile a-beam of us. How's that, fellers? Take that mine there +marked 32, that's next under the derrick, and handle it like eggs or +it'll go off 'pop,' and that'll be the end of our tale, and our +job'll be left undone. By Crumbs! fellers, be careful. Keep it in +your heads that we've a big stack of these Dutchmen to kill yet +before our own time comes." + +Success came that very night. From out of the mist and the darkness, +a German light cruiser came pelting up at a five and twenty knot +gait, with guns nosing round for a prey, and searchlights blazing. +She sighted the trawler, and hove-to with engines working, full-speed +astern, athwart of the _Bishop Argles'_ trawl warp, bawling questions. + +"Yaw! Yaw!" shouted Captain Shepherd in polite response, "No +comprenney." And in the meanwhile Mr. McCrae had set the deck winch +going, and hove in on the trawl warp till he drew the mine and its +murderous strikers into place. + +It hit the cruiser squarely beneath her bilge, amidships. It blew +her half in two; it exploded some if not all of her boilers, and +these (or the mine) exploded her magazines. Heaven yelled to the din +of the blasts. The fog lit to a flaming yellow. The _Bishop Argles_ +rocked and tossed like a cork in a flooded gutter with the shock, and +when the reeking smoke of the melinite blew to him, Joe, the cat, +spat and swore with excited frenzy. + +"Good puss then," said Captain Shepherd. "Hates a Dutchman, doesn't +she, as much as any other Christian would? Get the slack of that +trawl warp hove in Mac, will you, and then we'll steam on again. +Back to your course, Olssen." + +"You're going to pick none of them up then, Skipper?" asked Dick. +"Their own boats will have been smashed to sticks." + +"I will if they'll give me back my boys--and yours, Dick." + +"Aye, I thought you'd be that way," said the old fisherman with a +sigh. "Here's a sandwich for you, Skipper. You missed your dinner, +so you'll need it. The meat's some kind of liver sausage with black +things in it, but I fried it with onions, so you'll never notice the +taste. And here's a mug of good hard-boiled tea." + +"Thank you, Dick. Now go and take a spell at the wheel and send +Olssen to me aft here. And Dick, if he doesn't seem to want to come, +or if he shows awkward in anyway, throw him over into the pond." + +"Aye," said the burly old man, "I was expecting that too, Skipper. +Olssen's a Dutchman of sorts himself." + +Olssen came, and was sharply bidden to stand ten feet from his +interviewer. "And now, my man," said Captain Shepherd, "as the only +feller who speaks German on this packet, why the whiskers didn't you +palaver that brass-edged Dutchman when I told you to? Frightened?" + +"_Nein_, it was nod dat exactly." + +"Kind o' forgot they murdered your brother a few hours ago did you?" + +"_Mein Gott, nein._" + +"Look here, my feller, what countryman are you? An Olssen should be +some sort of a Souwegian." + +"_Deutschland uber alles_," murmured Olssen softly, and rushed. +Captain Shepherd stepped slightly aside, but left one heavy +carpet-slippered foot behind him. Olssen struck wildly, hit nothing, +tripped over the foot, and tumbled over the rail into the North Sea: +where he remained. + +"They're everywhere, those Dutchmen," commented Captain Shepherd +patiently, and cut himself tobacco. "They have no feeling for a +brother that's been killed or for anybody else. They'll do with a +lot of weeding out. I must weed." + +* * * * * + +It was dark again when the _Bishop Argles_ entered the Heligoland +Bight, and she was steaming without lights. Furthermore her +engine-room and cabin skylights were covered with tarpaulins, and the +binnacle light was muffled so that not the smallest ray could escape +seaward. The clothing of her people was dried by now, and Captain +Shepherd's carpet slippers showed their colours in full brilliancy. +A more desperate venture than the one they were set upon, it would be +impossible to find, but none of the bipeds showed emotion. Fishermen +are not a demonstrative lot at any time, and these few survivors of +what was once a happy family ship were perhaps dulled with grief, and +anyway had decided that it was worth dying to encompass a certain +ambition against the enemy, and there was an end of it. So they ate, +drank, kept watches, and behaved as normal fishermen should behave. + +Joe, the cat, was the exception. Joe complained personally and +individually to each of the crew in turn (except of course the two +pariahs, in the stokehold) and had his neck tickled or his tail +pulled in good-tempered toleration. Everybody liked Joe, but nobody +was going to be worried too much about his obvious forebodings. He +went to McCrae last of all, as that excellent person came up to cool +off at the fiddley door. Mr. McCrae was wiping grease from his hands +and face with a wad of cotton waste, and thriftily transferring it to +his boots. + +"Fey," he said to Dick, who had been trying to tempt the cat with a +bone. "Fey. That's what ails the puir beastie. I thought second +sight of that kind was confined to humans. Here's a proof to the +contrary. It would be a vera' interesting topic to write an article +on for the _E'mbro' Review_ if ever we get hame again, which we +shalln't. Dick, there was an eye in that egg you fried for ma' +breakfast this morning. I'll trouble you to pick the meaty bits out +in the future. They're ower rich for ma' stomach." + +A new danger cropped up as they neared their goal. The British Navy +both on the water and below it, though mostly below it, was keeping +watch and ward on the German ships that were cooped up inside. +Captain Shepherd instinctively decided that the British Navy would +not accept him as an ally on any terms whatever. He felt the point +of view to be narrow-minded in the highest degree, but saw no means +just then of changing it. He had no time at the moment to stop and +argue an ethical point with the British Navy. So he did his best to +avoid conversation with any of its units. + +Twice, snaky destroyers sighted him, and turned in to speak, but the +fog held his friend, and his old tactics of going astern on a +swerving helm carried him out of reach. He chuckled as one of them +let off a rapid stream of gun fire at some other object which they +mistook for the trawler amongst the sea-mists. + +But it was the submarines that worried Captain Shepherd most. A hand +reported "There's a drainpipe cruising alongside us to starboard, +Skipper." + +Well, there it was, an insignificant periscope, with a trifling wake +of white water behind it, and nothing to show if it was British or +German, or, for that matter, Venezuelan. There would be a hull down +below too, twice as big as the _Bishop Argles_ and full of men only +too keen to interfere with his righteous work. + +Captain Shepherd at last got seriously annoyed. His red face inside +its frame of grizzled whiskers deepened to a fine plum colour. "Hard +a port with that helm," he ordered. "Hard over with it now--yes, and +steady on that. I'll make that chap dive, or I'll scrape his +deckplates." + +And dive is what the submarine promptly did. Her periscope slid +under water as though it had been pulled down by a string, and the +little steamboat lumbered over her without touching, and drove ahead +down the North Sea without scathe from her torpedoes. Perhaps they +thought she was an ordinary blundering trawler, and it was an even +chance whether she was their own friend or an enemy ship. Captain +Shepherd could not tell her captain's thoughts. He did not even know +if the submarine was a British or a German craft. But they saw her +no more. Perhaps, again, when once more she got her eye above water +and could see, the _Bishop Argles_ had vanished in the fog. There is +a large element of chance in modern sea-warfare. Anyway Captain +Shepherd and his fellow fishermen were satisfied. They were fully +decided that none of them liked submarines. + +But it was to one of these sub-aqueous craft--and the probabilities +point to its being German--that they owed their pilotage through the +enemy's most dangerous defences. A periscope appeared out of the +gloom on their starboard hand, and converged in to their course ahead. + +"Follow that feller," said Captain Shepherd to Dick who was in the +wheelhouse, and applied himself to a study of the seascape through +his night glasses. + +"Appears 's if he's trolling for mackerel," observed Dick, as +presently the periscope swerved off on a new course. + +"Follow every turn he makes, to a fathom," said Captain Shepherd. +"We're going through a hedge of mines just now, and I shouldn't like +to spoil any of them. So as he's got the chart of how they're laid, +and we haven't, we'll just keep narrowly in his wake. But as there +may be other Dutchmen wanting to use this same gap in the hedge after +us, I reckon we'll just put a bramble or two in it that may scratch +them. Mac?" + +"Yes, Cap." + +"Don't bawl so loud, Mac. That drainpipe affair ahead there may have +ears as well as an eye, for all we know. Just get aft, and dump in +them boilers numbered 32 and 37 over the counter as quick as you +like. The moorings are ready shackled on at the right depth, so +there's nothing to delay you." + +"Right, Cap," said the engineer, and with the help of a couple of +hands set about his work. He spat on each mine for luck as they +lowered it over the stern. + +"Amazing queer dance this chap is taking us," said Dick, with his +eyes on the faint phosphorescence of the periscope's wake. He sawed +hard at the wheel, with a busy clatter of cogs. "There you are +again. Can you take her through this dance backwards again d'ye +think, Skipper?" + +"No, Dick. For one reason Mac's sealing up the hole behind us. For +another we're--we're going into harbour, Dick. We shall see your boy +and mine inside an hour from now. D'ye mind?" + +"That's all right, Skipper. You and I have been good shipmates for a +long time now, and we never differed on anything that mattered. We +shalln't differ on this anyway. I'm damn sorry I cooked so badly for +you sometimes, that's all." + +"Only person I'm really sorry about is poor old Joe. He's no special +quarrel against these Dutchmen, and he knows what's coming as well as +any Christian, and hates it fit to burst himself. I did think of +heading him up in a cask with a couple of pounds of meat, and setting +him adrift to get a chance. But he might fall into Dutchmen's hands, +and they're such cruel devils, Dick. After the way they killed my +two--my two splendid--oh God damn them, Dick. Joe'll be better off +if he stays aboard here and takes his gruel like the rest of us. + +"Now let me think"--He conned over in his head the bearings of the +zigzag course, and mentally reckoned the length of each leg--"We +shall be just over the twenty-five fathom patch, and the North East +point of Heligoland will be bearing about due West, or say West 'n by +North. H'm." He took a cast of the lead himself to make sure, and +smiled with professional appreciation of his own skill when the +depth, and the matter brought up by the arming of tallow, proved the +accuracy of his mental reckoning. + +"You may send her along----" he began, when the deep boom of a big +syren close at hand drowned the words. It was answered by another, +lighter in note, on the trawler's other side, and two rockets sped up +into the fog from two more ships ahead. He put his lips to Dick's +hairy ear and bawled. "We're right in amongst the fleet of them, and +if we don't look quick, we shalln't get our work done. Gimme that +wheel, and do you go aft and tell Mac to get those mines overboard +and into the water as quick as he can whip them off the deck." + +Somehow, and I hardly think it could have been from the submarine +that unconsciously piloted them through the mine-field, the Germans +had got wind of an enemy's presence, and an alarm spread round the +invisible fleet with furious noise and bustle. Syrens with long +blasts and short boomed messages; searchlights made the fog +iridescent, but did not penetrate it; and there was all the +indescribable turmoil and alarm of a great war fleet caught at anchor +by an invisible destroyer that had penetrated their outer and inner +defences. + +The fishermen were the only people who took it coolly. They had +their work to do, and did it, as though it was their daily routine. +Mine after mine--German-made--was lifted from their decks and dropped +into the still water astern, and Captain Shepherd in the steering +pulpit leaned over the spokes of the wheel, and wove his way +accurately between the loudest of the noises. + +Launches and picket boats at high speed began to pant by them unseen +through the fog. One of these presently fouled one of the drifting +mines, and blew it up with an appalling explosion. And then some big +ship got an attack of the nerves and fired into what necessarily must +have been one of her own boats with every light gun she could bring +to bear. + +"They're beginning to pay," said Captain Shepherd at the wheel. "Oh +Lord, give me time to send in more of the bill, and make them pay at +least half what's owing." He glanced over his shoulder at the after +deck--"Mac." + +"Yes, Cap." + +"When you get to the last two of them boilers, hang one over each +quarter, and tell me." + +"Right," said McCrae and waved a hand. + +Other spurts of firing burst out, and then there was a crash as some +launch's boiler exploded to a shell, and the shrill scream of hurt +men. + +"The Dutchmen will call this a raid by the whole British Fleet in +to-morrow's papers," commented Captain Shepherd. "They'll never own +up they've been shooting into their own ships. By whiskers! I shall +have to look lively now. All this firing's bringing on a breeze +that'll clear the fog. Yes, Mac?" + +"They're all over in the ditch, Cap, bar those last two. I've slung +one on either quarter, as you said." + +"Thank you, Mac." The wheel went over and the _Bishop Argles_ headed +for the line of invisible ships, where the noise of defence was +loudest. + +They sighted her when she was a hundred yards away, and saluted her +with a very tornado of fire. Her funnel was shorn off close to the +fiddley top by a shell from a great gun, which did not explode there, +but acted against a friend in the further line. Rifle bullets and +small shells from quick-firers swept over her like a hailstorm, and a +score of heavier missiles skated along her rusty iron sides. But she +was end-on, and so as a target she was small, and there is no doubt +that the gunners were scared and nervous. The German at the range +and the German in action are two very different marksmen. + +Normally, at ten knots, that hundred yards' run should have taken +about one-third of a minute, but some of the shells had penetrated +between wind and water and the trawler was sinking fast, and dropping +pace every second. + +"Go on, old girl," Captain Shepherd urged. "H'ep now, just another +score of fathoms, and that's all I ask from you. Joe, you brute, get +off my shoulder, or don't claw." + +The little steamer with her engines by a marvel untouched, and with +her burden of mines by a greater marvel unexploded, drew up to the +great battle cruiser with still some free-board showing, and then +Captain Shepherd rammed his helm hard-a-port. Her bow almost scraped +along the war ship's flank, and her stern swung in. There was a lull +in the big gun's fire as they could not be depressed enough to get +their sights on her, and the riflemen were firing from the hip and +hurting their friends across the way. And then the starboard quarter +of the _Bishop Argles_ swung in against the big cruiser's side just +below the forward barbettes, and the mine was cracked between them, +and a volcano burst forth that rivalled Etna. + +Gun ammunition blew up on board of her, and then a magazine. Boilers +caught the infection, and then more gun ammunition, and more +magazines. The huge ship blew to pieces piecemeal, and sank +compartment by compartment. But she went to the sea floor none the +less efficiently. And she was one of the biggest cruisers on the +world's navy list. As for the trawler, she was spread as mere scum +on the troubled waters of the Heligoland Bight. + +* * * * * + +Now this ought to be the end of the tale. But history compels me to +record that Captain Shepherd still resides in England. Odd to +relate, he seems well off. In his house is an enlarged photograph of +two young men, curiously alike, and in that wooden attitude affected +by fishermen when they face the camera. It is framed simply in oak, +but the frame is notable. It is studded thickly with curious bronze +spikes, which the intelligent observer will recognize, after thought, +as once having been carried on the helmet of German infantry men, at +the rate of one spike one man. + +There are seventy-six spikes round the frame. + +A queer-looking tabby tom cat, with one ear missing, and a foreleg +that has been broken and badly mended limps round the garden with +Captain Shepherd. If you shake anything yellow at this cat, he spits +at you. + +But how these latter things came to pass cannot be related here. +They belong to another tale. + +Underneath the portraits is a newspaper cutting, also framed, which +runs thus:-- + +"_New York_. Berlin reports by wireless that a British destroyer +flotilla made a determined raid on a German fleet last night, off +Heligoland. The British loss was thirteen destroyers sunk and three +captured. Their loss in men was very heavy. The Germans had one +unimportant cruiser slightly damaged." + + + + +III + +COTTON + +The trouble about this tale is that the best bits may not be written. +If they were written, and put in print, I personally should be +clapped in gaol. Of course, in the good cause of enlightening the +public (at so much per reader) I might be expected with reason, at +any rate in theory, to welcome gaol or worse. But this would not be +the end. The book in which the dangerous article appeared would be +suppressed promptly. It would merely be a case of martyrdom without +result. So the very much expurgated tale may be given (without +prejudice) as follows:-- + +The man who brought the whole thing about was an actor. + +About his acting powers I can say nothing, never having seen him on +the boards, and being unwilling to take his own word for his +histrionic powers. But about his personal appearance there was no +doubt. Young Arthur Hunter saw him first coming up the road to the +farm. + +"Grandfather," said he, "there's a man coming up from the road." + +"Ah," said Captain Kettle from behind the _Craven Herald_. + +"And Grandfather, he's--he's an actor." + +"Mind you never come as low as that," said Sir Owen, stretching out a +hand to hitch his wooden leg into an easier position. + +"And Grandfather--Grandfather! _He's coming to the front door!_" + +"I'll go myself," said Captain Kettle, getting briskly to his feet. +"You stay here, boy." + +The caller stood on the door-step, swept off his hat, stood +bare-headed, and bowed. "Captain Sir Owen Kettle, K.C.B., I believe? +I have not brought a letter of introduction, as I felt you would say +it was not needed. I am Holly Holroyd." + +"I don't know you, and I never heard of you." + +"Then I am afraid you have been out of touch with the Profession +these last two years." + +"On the contrary, though retired, I take in _The Syren and Shipping_ +and read it from cover to cover, including advertisements, every +week." + +"Ah, you do not take me, Sir Owen. I meant, of course, the +theatrical profession. All England that goes to a theatre knows that +my 'Jasper Kay' in 'The Reptile' was the finest thing in juvenile +leads that has ever been seen on the stage." + +The sailor's red torpedo beard stuck out unpleasantly. "I've never +been inside a theatre in my life. What do you want?" + +"Your help and advice." + +"If you go round to the kitchen door the girl will give cheese, +bread, and a glass of beer." + +"Thank you, Sir Owen, but this is a little premature. I hope to feel +my knees under your good old mahogany whilst we compare reminiscences +over your good old port a little later. Sweetly quaint old spot +you've settled down in here, Sir Owen, and you can believe me when I +say I'm a judge. I was land-agent to Sir Berkeley Craig before I +joined The Profession. But am I not keeping you standing here too +long?" + +"You are. Good afternoon." + +"You don't take me. I was going to suggest that you should smoke one +of my prime cigars in your study--I have them specially blended and +made for me in Havana, with my name printed in three colours on the +band." + +"I import my own cigars direct from a tobacconist in Skipton, and I'm +not out to buy any 'Just-as-goodados' at the door." + +"Sir Owen, you are a tough guardian of your own privacy. I see I +must give you the password. I have come to speak to you +on--hist!--England. Ha! You get me now?" + +Captain Kettle stood squarely in his doorway and nodded towards the +field opposite. "That pond down there, with the ducks on it," he +explained, "is deep, and you haven't told me if you can swim. If +you've business, say in three words what it is. If you waste any +more of my time, you'll bathe. Got that?" + +"You are a man after Holly Holroyd's own heart, Sir Owen--brisk and +curt and business-like. The stage, I'll admit it, leads one to +rigmarole. You should have seen me in former days when I was on the +Stock Exchange. But to my business, and in three words, as you say. +Do these thrill you? Cotton; Germany; Stop?" + +"Not a bit. They're in the paper every morning. If you'd a workable +plan for stopping cotton, there might be something in that." + +"Holly Holroyd is the one man in this Empire who has that plan. Are +we observed?" + +"We are. Those ducks are listening for all they're worth. Come in +if you like. But if you waste my time, and I tell you I'm in the +middle of a very important article on manures in the _Craven Herald_, +you'll learn what a duck's life really is." + +"M'Lord, lead on," said Mr. Holroyd with simple dignity. "An I +capture not your interest, may I be writ down failure and dolt." + + +Now, from a commencement so unpromising, it says a good deal for Mr. +Holroyd's power of persuasion that he gained so tough a subject as +Captain Kettle as ally through the medium of less than an hour's talk. + +"This War," he said, as he got into a chair, "this War is kept going +by our politicians. I suppose we're agreed on that, Sir Owen?" + +Captain Kettle stared. Then he got a box of cigars from a cupboard +in the wall and offered them. + +"Put your finger on cotton. All propelling explosives nowadays are +made from cotton. If we'd stopped all cotton going into Germany from +August, nineteen fourteen, the Germans to-day wouldn't be able to +fire a shot. Isn't that logic?" + +"Here are matches," said the host. "Bite the end from that vegetable +and light up." + +"I'm not talking through my hat. I was once runner-up at a +Parliamentary Election. If I'd got in, there was £1,000 a year for +me so long as I voted as I was told. I got kicked out, and so +remained passably honest. But you can take it from me, Sir Owen, +there's as much money in politics now as ever there was." + +"That's not news. No one ever supposed any man went in for the dirty +game of politics for the good of his health. Why should he?" + +"Very well, then. Supposing you were in politics--I don't care on +what side--and you were told that your livelihood depended on your +letting Germany have cotton, wouldn't you let?" + +"I'd see Germany in hell first," said Captain Kettle violently. + +Mr. Holly Holroyd spread an expostulatory palm. "That's not +answering my question. You merely prove you're no politician. +You're merely a clean Englishman." + +"Welshman." + +"Well, there are clean Welshmen, too. They're showing themselves in +considerable number since the war started. But there aren't enough, +and they haven't the gift of talk. The politicians have the monopoly +of that, and they shout the rest of the nation down and get their own +way, and earn their graft. They've tons of excuses when you start to +tackle them--and they keep the supply of cotton for Germany going +strong. Good Lord! but for the small matter of a score of tipsy +miners voting the other way, shouldn't I be doing the same thing +myself at this moment." + +"I thought you were a celebrated actor?" + +"I am. I will show you my press-cutting book to prove it if you +like, but as a man of the world, Sir Owen, you can't imagine I'd be +an actor if I could be anything else?" + +"No," Captain Kettle admitted. "That sounds true enough. Have some +whisky and soda?" + +Mr. Holroyd helped himself to a moderate peg, and produced a +pocket-book. "But, of course, I have to make a bit as I go along. I +have here a schedule of all the cotton that has gone into European +neutral countries over and above their normal supply. The figures +are surprising. Like to see them?" + +"I should not. I hate big figures." + +"So do I. I made my living as a chartered accountant for a number of +years, and saw enough of figures to last me the rest of my natural. +But the facts are plain. As we can't tackle our paid politicians on +the spot, neutral countries are the places to stop cotton in. +Private individuals can do it. I know how." + +"That would mean a high-class row." + +"And are you scared of a row, Sir Owen?" + +"By James, no," said Captain Kettle, and then bit on to his cigar and +smoked furiously. He felt that he had been letting out the secret of +his own private weakness to a comparative stranger. + +Mr. Holroyd sipped at his whisky, smoked for a minute, then said "Ha, +ha!" + +"What the mischief are you sniggering at?" inquired his host. + +"Your curiosity, m'lord. You're aching to know how it could be done." + +"I am," said Captain Kettle. + + +It was in company with this queer adventurer then that Captain Kettle +found himself attempting to make the voyage from England to a certain +seaport on the continent of Europe. To his surprise he found himself +stopped at the onset. Whether it was suspicion as to his motive or +official incapacity he could not make out. But one thing was +certain, no permission was forthcoming within a reasonable time to +leave the country. + +"I always knew," he commented, "that a Government Department takes +ten days longer than a business office to answer an ordinary letter, +but three weeks is too much. They don't say we've got to stay at +home. They simply sit tight and do nothing. So if they won't give +proper leave, we'll go without leave. I've not been all my life at +sea without knowing sea roads. As you haven't got any shirts of your +own, Mr. Holroyd, Lady Kettle will lend you two of mine, and you can +have my other portmanteau, and, mind, don't forget those--those----" + +"Call them chemicals," suggested Mr. Holly Holroyd. "Most embracing +word, chemicals. I called moonlight whisky that when I was brewing +it on the strict Q.T. in the Great Smoky Mountains in North Carolina. +And we'll each carry one of the popguns so as to distribute the risk, +as we insurance agents say. Those pop-guns are rather the key to the +situation, Sir Owen. We couldn't replace them in--on the Continent. +I also hope to the Lord we don't get dropped on with them on us. If +any of the authorities over yonder got wise to our little game, +there'd be a hanging in which we should both take a keen, personal +interest." + +"Speak for yourself," said Captain Kettle sharply. "I don't allow +any goggle-eyed continental to hang me. I'm not talking through my +hat either--a lot have tried. If you'll excuse me for a minute I'll +just slip up and give Arthur a half dose of Horner's Perfect Cure. +By the way that child has been tucking into unripe gooseberries this +day, his grandmother will be treating him for appendicitis and chill +on the liver to-morrow if I don't get ahead of her with Horner. +Then, if you're packed, we will drive into Grassington and catch the +train." + +"Right, and I'll bring down your baggage for you." + +"If you could--um--contrive to forget the long package that's laid +across the armchair, I'd be obliged to you." + +"Certainly. But I don't quite understand. What's the scheme?" + +"Well, you see," said Kettle rather uncomfortably, "it's my +second-best leg. Lady Kettle wants me to take it across for general +wear. It's all right for use on the farm here, but I don't mind +telling you I hate wearing it before a mixed audience. It's so +infernally old-fashioned. If I had forgotten it when my lady met us +at the station, I'm afraid there'd be a domestic scene. If it was +your fault, I don't fancy she'd say much." + + +It is a pity that a gap must occur in the tale here, and that the +name of the steamboat that carried them, the nationality of the +submarine that held them up _en route_, and most emphatically of all, +the name of the river they steamed up and the port they landed at +must all be rigorously censored. Captain Kettle cocked his cigar at +a fierce angle and looked with a farmer's eye at the rich, flat +pasture lands beyond the river's bank as they steamed along, and he +wrote an ode (in his mind) to the local breed of cow. At the quay he +played second fiddle, as per arrangement, to the flamboyant Mr. +Holroyd. At a subsequent hotel he meekly signed his name (with all +the outward ensigns of shame) "Professor Owen." + +"My friend, the Pro-fessor, and I," Mr. Holly Holroyd announced in +that nasal accent which does duty on the continent of Europe for good +United States, "the Professor and I are here on a scientific +investigation for the good of mankind and on behalf of the University +of Ballahassee, Tennessee. A nootral country is necessary for our +researches. We have with us all the necessary chemicals, but will +guarantee they make no smell. Do I make myself clear?" + +"Perfectly," said the landlord, who did not understand one word in +ten. "A private sitting-room will be extra." + +"Tut, tut!" said Mr. Holroyd. "You do not understand, man. We +cannot work together. We must have a private sitting-room apiece, +and two bedrooms, all, of course, _en suite_." + +The landlord perceived the dignity of his customers, and his bows +increased. "I have at your service, sirs, our Ambassadors' suite on +the first _étage_." + +"We will try and make that do," Mr. Holroyd condescended. "We were +prepared to be cramped when we came here. In war time one puts up +with war quarters and war privations. We expect even your dinner and +your wines to be bad. But be quick now. We have business to do." + +"And who," demanded Captain Kettle three minutes later, "who do you +suppose is going to pay for all this useless splash? I won't." + +"And I can't, most excellent, my lord. We'll skip all right when the +time comes. But at the moment it was necessary to impress the +landlord. He'd a most damnable fishy eye. As it is, he'd never +dream of putting the police on to the Ambassadors' suite." + +"Hum," said Captain Kettle. "Don't you dream, my lad, of landing me +into anything more like this without getting leave beforehand. Now, +on which part of the river front is the cotton landed?" + +"Search me. I know no more about the place than the man in the moon. +But after we have had an elaborate luncheon and grumbled because +there are no ortolans--always have ortolans in Ballahassee, +Professor--I guess we'll have a pasear and take in the town. Aren't +I Amurrican to the life?" + +"You sound like an Englishman who has spent one week-end in New York. +And now, my lad, what about those precious chemicals of yours? This +place is bound to be raided the minute we turn our backs, if I know +anything about continental cities." + +"You're right, m'lord, all the time. I've brought along a special +set of obscure chemicals and bacteriological specimens for them to +find. For the real stuff we must make a magazine. The question is, +where?" + +"That depends on the quantity and the danger of your material. You +must remember you've been so mighty mysterious about it that you've +never shown me so much as a specimen yet." + +"Don't you worry about ideas, your Eminence. I'm brimming with them. +The only trouble is cash to carry them out. If only the British +Government were subsidising this expedition I could get on +swimmingly. But under the circumstances, as they don't know about +it, they naturally couldn't. M'lord, could you advance me fifty +guilders? They'll save our necks for the time being. If I don't +turn up to pay, you can screw it out of the Chancellor of the +Exchequer when you get home." + +Captain Kettle produced a note. "I don't know what you want it for," +he observed unpleasantly, "but if it turns out afterwards you've +blown it on a spree, I'll give you something that will keep you +teetotal for a fortnight." + +"Most Potent," said Mr. Holroyd, "your honoured trust shall not be +betrayed. I return anon. But, for the Lord's sake, stick here like +glue. The city reeks of German spies, and the moment we both turn +our backs the rooms will be searched down to the bone. With your +lordship's permission, I will now for a while take my leave." + + +Mr. Holroyd returned in an hour's time carrying a large brown-paper +parcel, which on being opened disclosed a portmanteau of eminently +continental cut. This he proceeded to decorate with the labels of +hotels in Homburg, Vienna, and Monte Carlo, and to the handle he +affixed a rubric which stated that it was the property of an officer +well known in the Kaiser Wilhelm's service (but who was just then, so +the papers said, in Russia), and that it was to be left till called +for. After which he stored within it certain matters, and then +deposited it in an empty bedroom on the opposite side of their +passage. + +"There," said he, "if that's found, everyone will think the other +fellow's put it there. The servants in this pub can be estimated in +tons, and they're the most muddling lot I ever struck in all my +travels. No method. I've kept enough samples of our--er--chemicals +in my waistcoat pocket for you to experiment on, m'lord, as you still +seem sceptical." + +"I'll have to comb your hair yet," said the little sailor +reflectively. "Now just here, and before we go any further, and +without any frills of talk, kindly say with clearness what it is you +have got." + +"Fluxite tabloids and a deferred ignitor." + +"What's that?" + +"You see, you don't understand. I knew you wouldn't. So I +absolutely must explain, and don't blame me if I get gassy over the +dramatic bits. You've heard of Louvain?" + +"I have." + +"The Germans burnt it?" + +"So I read." + +"Oh, they did, all right. They'd a corps of men specially appointed +for the job. Probably been drilling them for that particular +enterprise since 1870. Special uniform and special swear words, all +complete. Their equipment was a box of matches and a haversack of +tabloids like this"--he showed a couple of small black dice balanced +on the back of his hand. "Each tabloid is guaranteed to set fire to +anything, from a kitchen range to a chest of drawers when touched +off. It really is wonderful stuff. + +"Very well, then. An intelligent Belgian found a dozen and a half of +this amiable corps hard at work. He helped them, and after a hard +day's work took them to a cellar where there was some good, old +champagne, and filled them up choc-a-block. Then he turned on the +gas and left. Next morning he came and found eighteen good Germans +and took from them their stores of fluxite tabloids for which they +had no further use. He set fire to the cellar they were in, so as +not to cause any unpleasantness with their friends, and got across to +England with the tabloids. As he'd picked up some shrapnel in the +knee on his travels, he handed the tabloids to me, and they're now in +that portmanteau." + +"But what's this other thing you talked of--something about deferred +ignition?" + +"A mere trifle, m'lord, but being a little thing of my own, I cherish +it. Once I thought I'd be a chemist, and really learned quite a bit +about chemistry before I chucked it. There are lots of substances +which, when mixed together, produce fire, at once or sooner. There +are quite a few which take their time over it; warm up to their work +slowly and thoughtfully in fact; but do it none the less efficiently +for all. My tabloids are the latter sort. I won't trouble you with +their composition. Indeed I may as well go so far as to say that +when I have advertised them well by our present trip--always +supposing we don't get scuppered in the process--I mean to retail the +recipe to the War Office people, if I can wake them out of their +winter sleep. Then I shall be able to repay that fifty guilders I've +soaked you in for, not to mention those two second-best shirts which +Lady Kettle so kindly, but so reluctantly, provided." + +"Well," said Captain Kettle, "your stuff may be good and may be bad, +and is probably bad, but anyway I'm not going to be satisfied till I +see it tried. So come out now and we'll find where this cotton is +stored." + + +They had not to go far in their exploration of that continental +seaport city without finding cotton. Quays, warehouses, streets +even, were piled with cotton bales; trains clattered away with them +over the frontier into Germany as fast as sweating men could load +them; and every minute more bales were discharged from steamers fresh +in from the ocean. Every bale sent into Germany meant death for ten +soldiers of the Allies, but it also meant money for the thrifty +neutral who passed it through his territory, money for the free and +independent Southern States planter, money for the shipper, money for +the broker, money (according to Captain Kettle) for the British +lawyer-politician, money in fact for so many worthy and pushing +people that the mere soldier (who as often as not did not possess a +vote) had naturally to go to the wall. + +"My great James!" said Captain Kettle. "Here's a way to carry on +war!" + +"Rather surprising, isn't it, we didn't ship them cordite whilst we +were at it, and bag the manufacturing profit as well? It would have +been quite as consistent. Do you know we are being followed?" + +"Yes, by a tall party with a kaiser moustache and glasses. He came +on with us as convoy when we left the hotel. He's pointed us out to +four other people that I've seen during our stroll, and probably to +more." + +"My compliments on your wits, m'lord. You've seen more than I did. +Are we going into the hotel? It's probably a trap." + +"If anybody here wants trouble," said the sailor truculently, "I'm +the man to provide it. Go inside. We'll dine in our rooms, and the +Lord help the Dutchman who tries to interfere." + +But there were men in that city as daring as Captain Owen Kettle. +Half-way through dinner an embarrassed waiter announced "Some +visitors, chentlemen," and on his heels there pressed the big German +with the spectacles and the upturned moustaches, and three friends. +They elbowed the waiter out into the passage, and shut the door +behind them. + +The big German folded his arms and addressed the sailor, in good +English--"You are a Britisher." + +"I have always suspected it," said Kettle dryly. + +"And your name is not Professor Owen, but Captain Owen Kettle. We +have met before, as you will remember. And now I am going to settle +up for what I owe you." + +"I hear you say it." + +"Speak the truth. What do you want here?" + +"What the hell's that to you? Get out of this room, one-time, you +crossed-eyed son of dog. There's the door. If you don't use that +you'll be thrown through the window. Understand? I don't like your +face." + +Here was a touch of the Kettle of an earlier era. The modern German +always had that kind of emetic effect on him. This specimen, +however, was not the man to take insults calmly. He lugged out a +revolver, and was plainly on the verge of shot. But a large and +heavy water carafe, thrown with the full strength of Kettle's right +arm, caught him fairly on the chest, where it burst like a shell. +The sailor followed up the attack as quickly as he could limp across +the room, wrenched the man's revolver away, and beat the sense out of +him with the butt of it. + +Another, advancing to the help of this first, had his legs plucked +violently from beneath him, and his head pounded against the iron +kerb fender till the subsequent proceedings interested him no more. +Then Captain Kettle turned his eyes and looked across the room, and +saw the other two intruders ranged against the wall with their hands +above their heads, and Mr. Holly Holroyd menacing them with a most +murderous-looking carving knife and carving fork. + +"Aren't I the complete cannibal m'lord?" he asked. "The citizen at +present offering his liver to the knife is so far untouched, but the +ruffian on my fork-hand has a dozen punctures in him for which he is +probably none the better. Congratters on the way you killed your +brace. I suppose we ought to make good Germans of these two, but my +trouble is I can't kill sitters." + +"You wait there, my lad," said Captain Kettle, "till I get some +sheets from one of the bedrooms torn into strips, and then I'll show +you how to tie up a man efficiently. It's an art. I'm also going to +make fast my two in case they see fit to come to life again before +they're needed, the dirty Dutch swine. I wonder what I once did to +this party with the unpleasant moustache." + +"And now," said Mr. Holroyd when the operation was ended, "we can't +take it for granted that all four of these mummified gentlemen were +orphans. The odds are that at any rate one of them has a dear friend +who'll inquire for him. The only question is, how soon will they +begin to get anxious." + +"The answer to that is just under the window. There are a blessed +regiment of them; the place is as German as Hamburg; and though it +would tickle me finely to stay and see it out with them, business is +business, and that cotton is waiting for attention before we can +afford to waste time on pleasure. We must skin out of this spot, +one-time." + +"But how, Most Wise? According to you the doors will be guarded." + +"Quite so. But the roofs won't be--yet at any rate. Get that +portmanteau with the chemicals, and come along. I mapped out the +course from the square below before we came in." + +"Me for the cat-act on the tiles," said Mr. Holroyd cheerfully. + +"And don't use that low-down theatre talk, or you'll be getting my +boot into you. I'll not have my ears contaminated. I was on the +edge of composing a pleasant bit of verse then, before you blundered +in and put me off.'" + +That retreat across the roofs deserves a chapter to itself, but space +cannot be afforded in this brief memoir. The roofs were high-pitched +and the passage eminently dangerous. Moreover, to have detached +tiles and let these clatter to the street below would have advertised +their passage, and so had to be avoided at all costs. But Holroyd +developed an unexpected activity (which he explained by saying he had +been in the gym eight at Rugby), and Captain Kettle climbed like a +sailor that he was. And in the end, after they had clambered +half-a-mile from the hotel, they found an unoccupied attic, and +entered it to sit down and rest. + +Captain Kettle looked with distaste at his soiled knees and grimy +hands and did his best to remedy these with the help of his +pocket-handkerchief. In his sea days he had always been noted for +his personal spruceness, and though he was now the complete farmer, +his tastes in this direction had not changed. I found out once that +a firm in Piccadilly makes a square-topped bowler hat for him +specially. + +"Now," said the sailor, "we've created a lot more interest in +ourselves than is wholesome, and I hate advertising anyway. We've +work to do, and we've got to get somewhere quiet to do it. The place +they're likely to hunt for us least in will be a truck or a coach in +a train that's going to start sometime for Germany. Main thing is, +we must pick one that's not going to start too soon, and one also +that commands a view of those cotton bales. D'ye think you can find +all that in the dark?" + +"I'm sure I can't." + +"Well, I'm sure I can. That's the advantage of a sea education. +Walk delicately down these steps, and if anybody interferes, bottle +him." + +They trod like mice down dark and resounding stairways, expecting +alarms at every turn. Doors yawned at them on every landing. From +the third half-pace a rat's eyes gleamed at them and then were +noiselessly eclipsed. But not till they had got to the ground floor +was there a sound of human life. There on the right, a door lay +open, with the room beyond it extravagantly lit with showy electrics. +In a great blue satin arm-chair a blowsy servant girl sprawled and +snored. + +Captain Kettle was always a man with neat instincts. "The hussy," he +said. "Lady Kettle has trouble with them just the same. And, of +course, all the lights are on and running to waste. The papers may +preach till they're black in the face, but you'll never get that sort +to practise war-time economy." + +Then they went out into the evening streets, mingled coolly with the +stolid crowd, and went their ways without let or hindrance. + +The city was old, and its streets wandered as waterside streets do. +On two occasions the dead-reckoning of even Captain Kettle led them +to turn off to a wrong direction, to his own wrath, and to his +friend's amusement. "I love to hear you get mad," Mr. Holroyd +chuckled, "when you miss a simple turning. I, personally, have no +more idea than an unborn Astrakan lamb whether our way is north or +south, or indeed which is north or south." + +"Quite so," snapped Kettle. "It is not your job to know. It is +mine. Bear away to starboard, please, and give me a spell with the +portmanteau. If weight means anything, it should contain a powerful +lot of your fire-raisers. I wish to goodness we'd got out earlier, +before the telegraph offices were shut. I want to get another +message through." + +"Want to telegraph your report of what we've done up to date to the +War Office?" + +"No, sir, not now. I want to wire Lady Kettle not to give Arthur +curd cheesecakes. She always does it if I don't remind her every +time he comes to stay with us, and they always upset him. Then her +ladyship takes it as a reflection on her cooking, and there's a row, +and the girl usually leaves.... No, don't go that way, or you'll +step into a canal. We must walk round the next block before we come +to the railway yards." + +To gain a hiding-place, when they came to the chosen ground seemed +impossible. The whole quay-space was lit as bright as day with +sizzling arc-lamps, and work was proceeding at three times normal +speed. The phlegmatic natives were being hustled by Prussians. +Every third man there seemed Prussian, square shouldered, and +capable. To carry on the Great War Germany needed cotton for +explosives, and this was one of the ways she saw that she got it. +But it was to this press and bustle that the two Britons owed +immunity. Everybody was too busy to bother with them. Anybody who +spared them a thought imagined that they were helping Germany. + +There was a concrete water-tower at the flank of one of the +warehouses, its head above the reflection of the arc lamps, its front +lit like day, its back in black shadow. A ladder-way led to the top, +luckily on the dark side. Up this Captain Kettle led, laboriously +carrying the portmanteau with him. Holroyd followed. And in due +time the pair of them, sweating and exhausted, lay and panted on the +wooden covering of the tank high up above the area of the light. A +stork's nest, with Madame Stork in possession, occupied one corner of +the roof-space. The intruders apologized for their disturbance and +the lady continued her duties unruffled. + +A train of box cars clanked out to the eastward, jolting noisily over +the turntables. + +"By James!" said Captain Kettle, pulling himself together. "Every +second we sit idling here means a gain to somebody who is selling +cotton, and a waste of English soldiers' lives. Open your magazine, +and give me one of the guns. You take the bales to the left, and +I'll pelt those to the right. And for the Lord's sake don't make a +noise, or we'll have these swine coming up and wanting to make a +fuss, and we'll have to waste time killing them instead of getting +busy with that cotton." + +The two pumped up the reservoirs of their air-guns, inserted the +composite wad of fluxite and slow detonator, took aim at one of the +ragged untidy cotton bales below, and pulled trigger. + +In a way it was not exciting work; there were none of the +accompaniments of ordinary shooting; there was no noise beyond an +almost apologetic "click"; there was no flash; there was no movement +on the part of the target to register a hit. Even Madame Stork did +not notice the firing. "The little beasts just quietly imbed +themselves," Holroyd had said, "without so much as a rustle. They +only get about an inch in, and the cotton closes over them, and +there's nothing to see unless you know what to look for. Then a bit +later they go off in a swirling blaze. I tried that on a cotton bale +at Liverpool. I've often wondered whose bale it was. I should like +to have told the owner he was suffering for his country's good." + +Men and trucks and cranes were handling many of the bales immediately +beneath them, and loading these into covered box cars. They were +careful not to touch these men, but always shot at bales that were +marked for next handling. Lives, British lives, depended on their +quickness. + +"By James!" said Captain Kettle at the end of the first half-hour, +"if this stuff of yours doesn't go off, my lad, I'll wring your neck." + +"Go on shooting for another ten minutes," replied the other coolly, +"and I'll show you. You're as bad as young Arthur and the curd +cheesecakes, m'lord; you're too anxious for quick results.... +Gee-whiz! I take that back, though. There you are!" + +A roman candle of flame spouted suddenly from one of the brown and +white bales beneath them, sending up gouts of burning cotton into the +night for the fingers of the breeze to spread. Here seemed the +commencement of a bonny blaze. But a sharp guttural order barked +out, and men dropped everything and ran, and returned in a matter of +seconds dragging hoses from which the water already spouted. + +"Smart, that," commented Captain Kettle with a disciplinarian's +appreciation. "Ah, there you are, my lad, our big German with the +moustaches I dislike, and the manners I'm not going to put up with. +Seems to think he owns this city. Well, he'll probably get taught +otherwise. But I wish I could remember where it was I met that swine +before, and what I did to him." + +But no extinguishing appliances were efficient to cope with those +fluxite fires. Bale after bale broke into flame, and spouted +destruction. A train of cars got nervous and pulled out, but the +jolting irritated its simmering combustion, and it fled hooting and +clattering away through the night towards Germany, in a perfect +ribbon of flame. + +The bales in the open popped and burned like coals, the warehouses +caught and burst like over-ripe pods, and the vessels in the basin, +despite their hurried casting-off of shore fasts were smitten in +their turn, and burned like torches also. + +"I hope you're satisfied," the inventor exulted. "About time we +quitted. Even that blessed stork is getting uneasy." + +"Not whilst we've this handful of cartridges left. That man who +doesn't like me is going to save the train over there to the Nor'ard +if we don't look lively. We'll shoot everything we've left at that, +and trust to luck that one of the pellets goes off with a short fuse." + +"I'm getting cooked. This tower is made of ferro-concrete, which +they say doesn't burn. So we shall merely cremate. When they're +examining our cinders they'd probably decide we were Parsees. By +gad, Captain, look at your pal. Did you fire the shot that set light +to him, or did I?" + +Captain Kettle stared down at the train on the northward siding. The +energetic man with the eyeglasses and the upturned moustaches who was +trying to save it, suddenly clutched at his clothes, and then +crumbled into flame. But he did not cry out. He ran quickly round +the corner of the building, and was lost to the watchers' sight, and +there is the end of him as far as this memoir is concerned. + +"You aren't shooting any more?" asked Holroyd. + +"I've given them my last cartridge." + +"So have I. I wonder which of us bagged your pal. What about +catching the last 'bus home?" + +"After you, my lad," said Captain Kettle. "By James! I wish I could +remember what I did to that man. Hullo, there goes Mrs. Stork. Now, +quick down that ladder, or we shall cook." + +Once more, to avoid custom-house and passport formalities, Captain +Kettle and his friend let the mail-boat take her trip without them, +and crossed to England by another less obvious route. The fare on +board was meagre, and they went to an inn at the unobtrusive port to +which their boat was consigned to supply the void. They found there +an English paper. + +"I see," said Mr. Holly Holroyd over his chop, "that there have been +cotton fires at that place where we've been, but they're quite +unimportant and no damage was done." + +"I'm not in the least a betting man," said Captain Kettle, "as +betting is a thing the Wharfedale Particular Methodists strongly +disapprove of, but I'll stand you two days' rabbit shooting on my +farm if cotton isn't made contraband before the month's up." + +"How's that?" + +"At the time I sent that first wire about Arthur and the butterfly +bottle I happened to send another to a British M.P. I knew, telling +him he might expect that the cotton shipment his friends had got +through would be spoiled, and that the dose would be repeated if +needful. I guess that man knows when to come in out of the wet." + +"You're a marvel," said Mr. Holroyd. "I was intended for the +diplomatic service myself if I'd passed high enough out of Harrow, +but the good old Governor went phut for two millions in nitrates just +then, and I had to go in for medicine instead. But I should never +have been your equal in diplomacy. Well, there's one thing I bagged +out of this trip and that's an option on a £100,000 parcel of German +dyewares now in----er----, the neutral country where we've been +operating. No trouble at all importing them, and Bradford's aching +for all it can get. I shall make a cool fifty thou'." + +"You've a great head on you," said Captain Kettle, "though some of +the things in it are a bit hard to follow. I hope that boy Arthur's +all right, but between ourselves Lady Kettle spoils him dreadfully, +and I expect he'll have a liver on him like a Strasburg goose by the +time I get back." + + + + +IV + +GUN-RUNNERS + +Captain Image prided himself on turning out fine active West African +mates. It is true that a good many officers succumbed to his +treatment, but the survivors were notorious for being able to get +through more work in a given time, and for giving way less to +disease, than any set of mates on the Coast. As the Liverpool office +will testify. + +But the new Fourth he had shipped on the _M'poso_ (vice a predecessor +smashed under a surf boat on the beach of the Grand Bassa) frankly +puzzled him. + +"The young pup actually asked me this morning if he could do the +navigation for me," he told his purser over their morning refreshment. + +"These brass-edged upstarts," said Mr. Balgarnie, "are brought up +that way on some of the other runs now, I believe. Your boy's +overloaded this cocktail with angostura again." + +"Much angostura makes easy swizzling. You're quite right: that's a +cocktail only fit for a passenger. Jones, this new Fourth calls +himself, and that makes the third Jones I've got on the _M'poso_ this +minute, and bring the number of Joneses on the Coast up to three +hundred and ninety six. Rum thing is, Balgarnie me man, he isn't +Welsh either." + +"Well, you ought to be a judge of that," said the Purser with sly +malice. + +Captain Image scowled. His nationality was a sore point with him. +"Look you now, me lad, go steady. I've knocked fellows down for +saying what I know you've got on the edge of your tongue. So let's +get back to business--I mean this Fourth Mate. I put him on to +chipping paint, and watched him start. Believe you me, he'd less +idea of the job than the ordinary Liverpool dock rat. I took him out +of earshot of the man and gave him my views. I said 'You've got to +get quit of a lot of those airs and starched collars before you're +going to be any good to me, me lad,' I said. 'Very good, sir,' says +he as civil as begob. 'Where did you pick up those manners?' I said. +'Are you Royal Naval Reserve?' I said. 'I am not, sir,' says he. +'In fact very much the reverse,' he says. 'But I hope, sir,' he +says, 'that after I've shaken down to the ways of the ship you'll +find I can carry on as well as any officer you've got.'" + +"H'm," said Mr. Balgarnie. "'Carry on.'" + +"Precisely," said Captain Image, signing to his Krooboy to hand the +second cocktails. "Plain Navy talk." + +"May have been sheer frills." + +"When we get down to the Coast, I'll sweat the frills off him, the +young pup. Thinks he's going to lib for top deck and run the tally +desk, I expect. Well, he'll learn what it is to be down in a hold +breaking out cargo with the thermometer at fifty above par." + +"You promised to call at the Dutchman's factory up the Brass River +this time." + +"And if there's water enough for the old packet, I'll go. The +Dutchman should have a hundred mahogany logs ready for me. If the +fever's been good to him he may have as many as a hundred and twenty. +It will be Mr. Fourth Mate's job to hook those five-ton logs on to +our winch chains, and after he's stood for a couple of days up to his +chin in that stinking mud off the Dutchman's beach, I'll give you +further news of him--the smooth-faced young pup." + +Now from the Steamboat Company's point of view the spheres of +interest along the West African seaboard are clearly demarcated, and +seldom interlap. London boats work the North West coast from Tangier +to Mogador, and go no further south now that Agadir is a closed port. +The Germans and the French compete with them to a certain extent, and +as they are helped and the British are hindered by their respective +Home Governments, they are likely to get more of the trade. Then +comes a gap: there is no regular service to the Saharan seaboard. +But occasional French steamers do the bulk of the shipping from +Senegal, and from there onwards, past Sierra Leone, Liberia, the +Ivory Coast, the Gold Coast and the Bight, down to the Oil Rivers, +Liverpool steamcraft carry trade, traders, and missionaries, soldiers +and administrators, with weekly regularity. British steamers under +the Belgian flag serve the Congo. And there are other arrangements, +also clearly defined, for Portuguese Angola, British Walfish Bay +(which is the entry port for German South West Africa), and of course +for Cape Town. + +The main point to carry in mind, however, during the reading of this +memoir is that the West African seaboard is by no means all British; +the ownership is shared also by French, Spaniards, Moors, Portuguese, +Liberians and Germans; so that when hereafter I speak of The Other +Power, there is enough geographical vagueness to avoid international +trouble. The reason for this will appear later. + +The _M'poso_ was a Black-Funnel boat, and with decent luck should +have come to her end some ten years ago. But no bar on the Coast +could break in both of her bottoms (though all had tried), and +Captain Image stuck to her, though promotion was often offered to +him. A bigger boat of course meant more passengers; but the slow old +_M'poso_ putting into half-forgotten creeks up the rivers, or rolling +her rails under off surf-smitten beaches where no decent steamer dare +risk her anchors always staggered home loaded to her marks. A mail +steamer may be decorative, but there are heavy fines for loss of +time, and mail-boat passengers on the West Coast expect to drink like +fish at the skipper's expense, and entertainment allowances are +always inadequate. Moreover, it is a solid commercial fact that the +Black Funnel Co. pay a big commission to their Masters on cargo +secured. And that is where Captain Image really scored. He was +known to have a nose for cargo second to none on the Coast, and the +grey-headed owner with the imperial who ran the Line gave him a free +hand to hunt for cargo anywhere he liked along that unhealthy +seaboard.... + +"The Old Man seems down on you," said Mr. Price the Third Mate to Mr. +Jones the Fourth, with whom he shared a room above the boilers. +"Well, he hates frills and he expects his mates to work nine days a +week and twenty-eight hours a day, and you don't look cut out for +that. I guess he spotted you were an R.N.R." + +"But I'm not." + +The old Third raised his dyed eyebrows. "Oh, well, if you tell me +you are not, there's an end of it. Don't talk. Look you: I want a +bit of sleep." + +The Fourth Mate inspected himself in the glass. "If only I'd had +sense enough to grow a moustache," he told himself humorously, "I +should have steered to windward of a lot of trouble. As it is, that +old palm oil ruffian of a skipper seems to sniff Navy Pattern +somewhere. However, thank the Lord for a thick hide: I guess I shall +need it. They might have the decency to give officers separate rooms +on these tanks, or else provide them with efficient exhaust silencers +for when they're asleep. My Christian Aunt! How that Welshman +snores. Well, it's one comfort to know he will be quite unconscious +of the fact of my absence, so I'll just trot off to Number Three Hold +and get on with my forgeries..." + +Now at Abadah, which is the chief port of entry of a certain Third +Class British Colony, the Colonial Secretary, who was acting Governor +for the time being, vice the proper Governor invalided home, was in a +state of considerable anxiety. He tapped a cigarette paper full of +quinine, rolled it up, and washed it down with a wineglass of weak +whisky and water, and irritably waved away the black house boy who +came to announce dinner. + +"I no fit for chop." + +"But I am," said Craigie, the Commandant of the Hausa Constabulary. +He scratched himself because he was suffering from prickly heat, and +nodded to the house boy, who took the hint and vanished. "Look here, +old man. I know you're worried, and I know also that your head's +ringing like a bell with that infernal quinine, but if you don't eat +you'll crack up, and that's a thing that can't be allowed." + +"Barring suicide, getting decently invalided home seems the only way +out of my particular mess just now. And," the Acting-Governor nodded +significantly, "I'm not the only man who has faced those two +alternatives and made his choice." + +The Commandant quite understood the reference to His Excellency the +late Governor, and nodded agreement. "But," said he, "you're not +that kind of jellyfish. It isn't your fault that we've another +slackback at the Colonial Office at home, and you get neither backing +nor encouragement, and are left to hold the dog. If the--the Other +Power mops up the hinterland and ruins the Colony, you'll be held up +to infamy as the rascal responsible, and if you back Great Britain +and do your duty, the odds are you get recalled for spoiling the game +of some trumpery politician at home. It's a sweet choice, but +there's not the smallest doubt as to what you must do." + +"I know that," snapped the Acting-Governor, "and of course I'm going +to see the thing through. You needn't reel out any more of your +platitudes, and I suppose you're hungry if I am not, so we may as +well have chop. Curse this heat. The thermometer's been steadily +going up for three days now, and if that threatened tornado doesn't +come along soon to clear the air, I believe I shall go out in an +apoplexy." + +Now in that no man's country, the Abadah hinterland, there was +chronic war, and so far as local history travelled backward there +always had been chronic war. In theory every one deplored this, and +successive Governors had reported strongly in favour of annexation, +and presenting the troubled area with the Pax Britannica. +Incidentally, as all the trade of the Colony came from the +hinterland, commerce would be assisted, but this fact was kept in the +background of late, as the Hypocritical Party was in power at home, +and as they were mostly traders themselves or came of trading stock, +they always assumed an unctuous pose of righteousness, and refused to +countenance any annexation that was not first proposed by the +missionaries of their particular denominations. + +As a glaring alternative it was pointed out that the Other Power was +aching to annex. The Other Power worked the Press in its usual way, +and protested that it could not afford to have a bear garden on its +doorstep. It clamoured aloud that its interests suffered, that the +cause of humanity was being neglected, and so on. And once the Other +Power seized that hinterland, of course it would clap on its usual +tariffs to divert trade to its own port, and Abadah would be ruined. + +"And the utmost the present Hypocrites at home can rise to," the +Acting-Governor summed up, "is that I should try moral influence on +these hinterland tribes. One might as well try to shift the Equator +with a hymn tune. And they're cutting down the Colonial forces every +half-year. As a point of fact, what is the total of the Hausa +Constabulary now? My head's so full of quinine I can't remember the +simplest figures." + +"Two hundred and thirty-eight effectives. By the way, you remember +that eminent politician who called us butcher mercenaries in the +House of Commons the other day? That pretty phrase has been copied +into the local rag here, and improved upon, and my native officers +tell me the men are beginning to kick." + +"I don't see why they shouldn't. By the way, d'you know the Abadah +_Times and Echo_ has changed proprietors?" + +"I didn't. I thought that snuff-and-butter-coloured barrister chap, +Quablah Smith owned it." + +"He's just sold out to Schmaltz." + +The Commandant scratched himself thoughtfully and whistled. "Who +owns, or is said to own, or at any rate who manages, that big new +Dutch factory at the head of the town where they sell under cost (so +I hear) and buy above the market, and live like fighting cocks on +what must be a very heavy net loss per annum. I suppose Schmaltz has +been sent by those blighters who are trying to bag our hinterland. +By Jove, Crawford, aren't they thorough? Actually nobbling the local +Press in our own twopenny capital." + +"Oh, they're thorough enough," said the Acting-Governor grimly, "and +plodding, and systematic. They've had the whole scheme cut and dried +and docketed in their Colonial Office any time this past twenty +years, and my distinguished predecessors in office have tumbled to it +for ten, and have reported strongly. As a total result the Colonial +Office has now woke up to the fact that they've been sending our +official letters here by a round-about route for the past century, +and now post them by the direct boat. Looks as if one of these new +chaps they've got into the Cabinet had bought an atlas." + +Now as it happened, the Other Power, which had set up a new +diplomatic doctrine of doing things first and explaining them +afterwards, had made a far more comprehensive network of preparations +than even the men on the spot guessed at. All the world knew that +Dr. Carl Josephs was one of the great modern authorities on West +African lepidoptera. But no one apparently worried about where the +bearded and be-spectacled Dr. Carl found the money to finance his +beautifully equipped expeditions. At the end of each trip he issued +a sumptuous volume, lavishly illustrated by the three-colour blocks +(London: Schünemann Gebruden. £5 5s. net); but as moneyed butterfly +hunters are few, one concludes that the circulation was limited, and +probably did not meet the cost of publication. + +It was perfectly true that the Herr Doctor had brought home several +butterflies hitherto unknown to science, and if one were in a +scoffing mood one might point out that any other earnest student who +cares to hunt through any little-known section of West Africa can do +the same. But the expense of such an expedition is heavy, and I can +recommend Dr. Carl Josephs' plan of getting a government subsidy to +cover it. Especially is it handy to have a subsidy that is not +reported in any parliamentary return, and so is beyond lewd +criticism. That is the great advantage of having one's income +provided for under the secret service estimates. + +The smart new Colonial Secretary of the Other Power has been +adversely criticised for many of his appointments, but he made no +mistake when he picked Dr. Carl Josephs as his missionary of empire +in the Abadah hinterland. The man had health, and he had prudence; +his genius for entomology was the most perfect of disguises; moreover +he had a gift of tongues, no conscience whatever, and a talent for +gaining the friendship of savages such as is only possessed by the +one man in the million. He could promise and he could perform. He +gave gramophones, magnetic shocking coils, and patent leather sword +belts. He did a lot of very lucky doctoring in a smallpox district, +and he scored with the biggest headman of the lot by the prediction +of an eclipse. + +Nautical almanacs are not common currency in the bush at the back of +Abadah, and when the sun was shut out at the prophesied hour, the +whole tribe admitted the miracle. But the headman stuck out for +further bounty. He had a repeating rifle--an early pattern +Winchester. He must have a thousand more. He would not sell his +country for less. Dr. Josephs knew the trouble of smuggling arms of +precision into Africa in the teeth of international law, and offered +two thousand gaspipe flint-locks with cherry red stocks and nickelled +heel-plates. Quoth the headman, "I can get those myself if I choose +to make my people collect rubber. Either the Winchesters, or I sit +tight." + +"Then the Winchesters you shall have," said Dr. Carl Josephs. "On my +head be it. And when they come you shall use them against those +cursed British who have spoiled your slave trade, and want to cut +down your crucifixion tree, and will not even give you a good price +for your palm oil and kernels. And to show the generosity of my +master, the great Emperor, who will come in to protect your country, +I will give you above and beyond the rifles, cartridges in number +past thinking, which you have not even asked for. Then you can drive +the British into the sea, and loot Abadah." + +"Yes," said the headman doubtfully. "But I couldn't stay there. +Their ships would come with cannon that shoot a thousand miles." He +was a travelled headman. He had served once in the stokehold of a +West Coast gunboat, and remembered wistfully the range of a four +point seven gun. + +"When you had looted the place, and got their gin, and their +concertinas, and their tinned salmon, and that skew-eyed billiard +table at Government House, and--and those big French hats the +Colonial Secretary's wife does such a line in, why then my dark +friend you can retreat on your ancestral middens here, and--I'll +guarantee you'll find them strongly held." + +The headman licked his big lips. "Is there much gin now in Abadah?" + +"Just oceans," said Dr. Carl Josephs. + +* * * * * + +Here, then, were the ingredients for a very pretty little +international turmoil, and the Colonial Secretary of the Other Power +rubbed his be-ringed and manicured hands and congratulated himself +that Great Britain could not this time "muddle through somehow" after +her usual habit by any possible means whatever. "I am sorry for the +poor old Herr Bull," said the Colonial Secretary, "and my tailor in +London is a man for whom I could forgive his country much. But we +are the nation of the present and the future, and we intend to have +our place in the sun. Back numbers must suffer. And the guns shall +go out by one of their own fool ships. Then there can be no back +reckonings. American guns, ferried over in an English boat, landed +at a British port, and carried to a country the greedy British are +trying to annex. De--licious!" + +But on the seas at that particular moment was a clean-shaved, +red-faced young man, who gave the well-known West African name of +Jones, and bore the rank of Fourth Officer on the S.S. _M'poso_, and +as no other reason for his presence has ever transpired, one can only +suppose that he was sent there by that blind Providence which is so +well known by a sneering Europe to look after the incompetent British +Empire. Mr. Jones at that date was having a particularly evil time +of it. He had filled the mind of Captain Image with suspicion, and +that potentate was engaged in "sweating the frills off him." Mr. +Jones, who fancied himself as an actor, had done his best to adapt +himself to all the requirements of the West African junior mate, but +he had glaringly failed in many things, and in his very attempts the +peppery Captain Image saw cause of offence. + +"What do you think is the latest?" he demanded one sweltering day of +the plump Mr. Balgarnie. "I sent him ashore yesterday in a surf boat +to bring off a few bags of kernels from Swizzle-stick Smith's factory +at Malla Nulla, and he actually had the nerve to teach his Elmina +boys to toss their paddles as they came up to the guess-warp +alongside." + +"Man o' war fashion." + +"Precisely, the smooth-faced young pup. So after I'd given him my +tongue, I put him in the other surf boat with those Sa' Leone +Krooboys." + +"And as they know their rights," said the Purser rather bitterly, +"there'd be no use tampering with them. And as there's been a +shocking bad beach to-day, and as those Christian Kroos are rotten +bad boat boys, he'll have had a gay time of it landing." + +Captain Image winked a watery eye. "Spilt three times, so I hear, +though he didn't report it. And knowing old Swizzle-stick's beach, I +should guess he'd swallow enough Atlantic and seaweed to last him a +lifetime. But the pup's a sticker, I will say that for him. He had +his boat all ready to go ashore again when I decided the beach was +too bad, and hove up and steamed on." + +"Why's he always messing about in Number Three Hold when he's +supposed to be off watch?" + +"Oh, that's all right, Purser me lad. He asked me one day if he was +expected to tally cargo. I said yes, unless he proposed to play +amusing tunes on the grand piano whilst somebody else did his work +for him. 'Then, sir,' says he, 'as I shouldn't like you to find me +inefficient when the time comes, would you mind my going down +beforehand to see how the cargo's stowed?' Well, I wasn't civil, but +I said he could go if he felt incompetent and was minded to waste his +time that way. To tell the truth I didn't see how I could refuse." + +"It is awkward sometimes to think of the right repartee on the spur +of the moment. But I noticed you stuck up for him when that Dutchman +came aboard breathing thunder and blitzen off Abadah." + +Captain Image's complexion deepened to a fine plum colour. "I'm +skipper aboard here, Mr. Balgarnie me lad, and though I do allow +liberties with traders who ship cargo, it is best they should always +remember my true position. Besides, as regards Schmaltz, although we +bring him a big tonnage out from home, he's never shipped so much as +a ton of cargo by the _M'poso_ for the run North." + +Cargo from Liverpool interested Captain Image little. But on every +ton of cargo picked up on the Coast he drew commission, and somewhat +naturally West African cargo was the chiefest of his life's +interests. He was believed in the Liverpool office to have the +keenest nose for cargo in the trade, but even there they did not +realize the wealth of diplomacy he expended over the gathering of it. + +"That man Schmaltz is a fraud," Captain Image went on, "and he's +neither bottom nor sides to his stomach. Last time I was round here +I asked him aboard for chop. Instead of the usual two preliminary +cocktails he had six. He must have necked at least three bottles of +Castle Hamburg champagne for dinner, and didn't even put angostura in +it. He said he could do with some port after, and cost me a couple +of pints, and then I started to drink him level at whisky and soda. +Well, Balgarnie me lad, you know what I am on that?" + +"I do," said the stout Purser feelingly. + +"Well, he was a tin wonder. I'll admit to being inclined to recite +poetry myself by the time we knocked off, but he hadn't so much as +stirred a hair. But as for cargo, I might as well been asking for +his gold nuts." + +"Bland way with him too, hasn't he?" + +"Bland, d'ye style it? I should call it b---- Yes, Mr. Price?" + +The old third officer, with half an inch of white showing at the +roots of his dyed hair reported that his room-mate the Fourth was +down with fever. + +"Ungrateful young skrimshanker, just when I was beginning to make a +useful mate of him. Well, Mr. Price me lad, as you know, I can be +hospitable even to a junior mate. Come along to the chart house, and +I'll give you a couple of pills. Let him take those in half a +tumbler of whisky together with a cigarette paper full of quinine, +and he'll be ready for work to-morrow. Has he been wandering at all +in his talk, Mr. Price? Has he let on at all where he served before +he came on the _M'poso_?" + +"He's said little, except to abuse me for snoring, which is a thing I +never do. But look you, when I come to think of it, he has talked of +guns and again of guns." + +"Navy," said the Purser. + +"Look you, I thought it was his cheeky way of referring to my +breathing." + +"Navy," said Captain Image. "It's written all over him in plain red +clean-shaved print. That'll do, Mr. Price. There are the pills, and +don't let them roll out of your fist. Here, I'll just flatten them. +There, that's safe. Yes, he's been Navy, Balgarnie me lad, an +officer too, and he's skipped. I wonder what for? However that's +his palaver. He's here now, and if he doesn't peg out, with God's +help, I'll make him into an efficient West Coast Fourth Mate. +Between ourselves I liked the way he stood up to Schmaltz, although +you can bet your sweet life I didn't let him guess that. There was +nothing of the flare up about him, no language, not so much as a +hard-shut first even. He was just coolly polite. Reminded me of a +play actor I saw once at the Court Theatre who was pretending to be a +gentleman. If he'd blustered, I really believe Schmaltz would have +hit him, and been glad of the chance. He was as mad as he could +stick." + +"What did happen exactly? I never heard the proper tale." + +"Well, Schmaltz had got some goods consigned in the ordinary way. +Hardware it was invoiced as, and I suppose altogether the lot ran up +to about three tons in weight. It was hove up and dropped into the +surf boats, and paddled ashore in the usual way. There was, as I +say, a good handful of it, and as you remember there was a bad run of +surf that day, and so they were getting it ashore pretty slowly. But +no sooner does the first lot get dumped on his beach, than off comes +Schmaltz in the return boat in a towering rage. He'd been upset in +the surf coming off, and was wet to the skin and had broken his +specs, and I don't suppose that improved his temper. Anyway he +stormed up to the tally desk and swore by ten thousand devils we'd +sent him off the wrong cargo, and done it on purpose." + +"'And what, sir, is your private mark?' asks Mr. Navy Jones as cool +as an ice cream." + +[S-in-a-ring-in-triangle mark] "'S-in-a-ring-in-a-triangle,' says +Schmaltz." + +"'Right,' says Navy. 'The responsibility of sending off those goods +is entirely mine. I see by my tally sheet I have sent ashore to your +address seventeen cases marked S-in-a-ring-in-a-triangle. From +memory I can tell you that six were biggish bundles, and the rest +were rectangular and about the size of--ar--ammunition boxes!'" + +"Navy again," said Mr. Balgarnie. + +"Oh, it was Navy right through, Purser me lad. And I'll not deny +that for a change it's rather amusing to hear it when you've run dry +on your ordinary tap of hard language. Ammunition boxes indeed! I +thought Schmaltz would have choked. But he's the business man right +enough. Trade first and fun afterwards is his motto, and before +Jones could stop him he was climbing down into the hold himself." + +"'If you are such a dunderhead you can't look after my cargo,' says +Schmaltz, 'I'll go and pick it out myself.' + +"'If you don't come up out of that hold one-time,' says Mr. Fourth +Mate, 'I'll have you sent in a way that'll surprise you. The stuff +down there's under my charge, and I don't have it tampered with by a +half-drowned Dutchman anyway.'" + +"Good," said Mr. Balgarnie. "The pup's got pluck. Schmaltz is twice +his weight, at a low estimate. And so he came up, sir?" + +"He did not, me lad. He went on clambering unhandily down. Jones +picks up a cargo sling and heaves it to that second headman, +Funnel-Paint, who was at the bottom of the hold, and says he, 'When +that Dutchman who is crawling down comes within your reach, make him +fast to the winch chain. I want him up here. Savvy?' + +"'Savvy plenty,' says Funnel-Paint smartly enough. I will say, +Balgarnie me lad, the smooth-faced young pup's got the knack of +command, and the hands always jump when he raps out an order. So +Mister Schmaltz when he steps out on the ground floor finds himself +grabbed by a dozen naked sweating, stinking Krooboys, and hitched up +in a cargo sling, and hooked on to the winch chain, and jerked aloft, +and bashed against the sides of the hatch as the old girl rolled. +They ran him up to the sheave wriggling like an eel snarled up in a +fishing line, and then they guyed the derrick outboard, and let him +go by the run to where a surf boat ought to have been but wasn't. I +guess the objections were mostly drowned out of him by the time he +was hauled on board a boat and paddled to the beach." + +"So perish all Dutchmen," said Mr. Balgarnie, with emotion. He +touched no cargo commission, and could afford to let animosities +spirt out which his superior officer had to keep suppressed. "I've +wanted to kick that man myself most times I've seen him, and the only +reason I didn't was because I thought he might be useful to you and +the ship. Let's hope a shark chops him next time he tries to leave +the shore." + +"Amen," said Captain Image. "I've no use for any foreign devil palm +oil ruffian who hasn't cargo for me when I call off his factory. +Why, he's worse than a Belgian, that one." + +There was a pause, and then the stout Purser coughed and said, "I'm +wondering." + +"What's broke now?" inquired his friend and senior officer. + +"Has Jones anything to do with that cheerful drunk we've got down +below in the First Class, who's also a Dutchman, and who also had +objections to raise about his cargo?" + +"Name of Aaronstein Gebruden from that funny little green painted +factory in the Happy Dutchland Colony?" + +"Aaronstein: that's him. Gebruden is Dutch for 'And Co.' His +objection was a bit of a mystery to me, sir." + +"Oh, he came off from New Hamburg suffering from a different kind of +hot bearings. He'd cargo consigned which he said differed from the +invoice, but he didn't kick. He wanted to stand Mr. Jones a dash and +seemed surprised when the d----d fool wouldn't take it." + +"Navy again," said the Purser. + +"Obviously. But they argued it out quietly enough." + +"'What's your mark?' says Jones. + +[double-A-in-a-long-diamond mark] "'Double-A-in-a-long-diamond,' says +Aaronstein. + +"'Were the goods you got marked with something else?' asks Mr. Fourth +Mate. + +"'They were not. They all had the double-A-in-a-long-diamond, +but----' + +"'I've nothing to do with your buts,' says Jones smartly enough. + +"'If your goods have got the right mark on 'em that's the end of my +funeral procession. And you may take your drinks to a place where +the temperature's probably lower than it is here, and where we've no +reason to believe there's malarial fever. I'm not thirsty.' + +"'Man,' says Gebruden in a pig's whisper you could hear on the upper +bridge, 'Man, you've sent us wrong goods. I open a case: I expect to +find gramophone records: I see cartridges. I open another. It +should be fishing rods: it is----' + +"'Oh, go and boil your head,' says Mr. Fourth Mate, 'and attend to +your business, and don't come bothering me. Is the stuff saleable?' + +"The Dutchman stared till his eyes stuck out of his head like a +lobster's. 'Oh, it's saleable enough, Herr Jones,' says he. + +"'Then in heaven's name go and peddle it to your dusky customers,' +says my high-toned Fourth. 'I guess making a bargain is your mission +in life.' + +"'Quite so, quite so,' says Gebruden. 'I only wanted to be assured +that the cargo was mine.' + +"'That I can't answer for,' says Mr. Fourth Mate as chilly as you +please, 'not having the pleasure of your personal acquaintance. But +these cases belong to the shopkeeper whose mark is +double-A-in-a-long-diamond, and if he doesn't make the most of them, +he's a variegated fool.'" + +"Did he say 'variegated fool'?" asked the Purser. + +"Now, I come to think of it, me lad, he did not. He said 'silly +fathead.'" + +"There you see, sir," said Mr. Balgarnie. "Navy again." + +"Yes," said Captain Image thoughtfully, "and he wouldn't share. I +wish the chance had come my way." + +"Have there been some good pickings then?" + +"I don't know what cargo Gebruden expected. Ordinary trade stuff, I +suppose. And he'd have gone grubbing along, and just keeping to +windward of bankruptcy as he has done these last dozen years. The +niggers don't bring trade into the Dutch colonies if they can avoid +it--prices too bad, too many forms to fill up, too many officials to +pay. And then in this particular bit of the Happy Fatherland there's +that war still going on that they don't seem able to stamp out, +although they've got enough troops on the job to conquer half Africa, +you'd think. If it wasn't for bringing officials and war material, +the port wouldn't be worth calling at. Isn't that so, me lad?" + +"C'rect." + +"And how long did we stay there this run?" + +"Twenty-eight--no, twenty-seven hours." + +"Well, Gebruden in that time seems to have done more solid business +than he's put through in the preceding twelve years. He got his +stuff ashore and up to the factory; got the cases broken open +(presumably), and the goods displayed in the feteesh; found +customers; did a deal and got paid in cash. And then, by whispers! +he closes out the rest of his business for cash also, and comes +aboard here with the family parrot and two heavy boxes that look to +me uncommonly like gold dust. He doesn't wait for the Dutch boat. +Nor would he let you book him through to Happy Dutchland. No, me +lad, good old Liverpool's far enough for him, and my idea is that +he'll be calling himself Macdonald before the year's out, and sitting +behind a big cigar in his own motor car, with an office in Castle +Street, and a county place in Cheshire. And Mr. Navy Jones might at +least have pocketed cumshaw, to the tune of--say--a suit of clothes +if he'd known anything about the ways of the Coast." + +* * * * * + +Look now upon a final scene on board H.M.S. _Desolation_, 2nd class +cruiser. Gunnery-Lieutenant T.R.B. Lee-Wentworth, just returned from +special leave, had reported himself on board with the usual +formalities, and spent the balance of the afternoon in taking over +duty from his substitute. + +That evening he dined in state with his Captain, and they talked +briskly during the meal on the absorbing topic of Service shop. But +when the cloth was cleared, and they sat alone over a glass of port, +the elder man suddenly laughed. + +"I ran down to Monte Carlo for a couple of days," said he. + +"Hope you robbed the tables, sir." + +"I'm afraid it was the other way on. But there was a man in Monte +who interested me. He tried to be a dressy man, and made rather a +comic failure of it. He'd been Colonial Secretary of Another Power, +and he'd just been sacked. Know anything about it?" + +The Gunnery-Lieutenant grinned. "I'd like to hear, sir." + +"Of course I can only tell what I picked up from the papers. But you +know they've had a war on in their West African Colony for some +considerable time now, and recently the niggers have managed to +smuggle in a big consignment of modern rifles, and they've been +giving the Europeans fits." + +"Ah," said Gunnery-Lieutenant Lee-Wentworth. "Of course I couldn't +know that. I was at sea at the time. Any news from Abadah, sir?" + +"Yes, by Jove. Now they've been having a busy time. They've got an +energetic fellow called Crawford as Acting-Governor, and he's taken +the bit in his teeth, and waltzed up into the hinterland with an +escort of half-a-dozen Hausa police, and calmly proclaimed a +protectorate over the whole lot of it. Sad thing about that explorer +johnny, Josephs. Crawford found him decorating the local crucifixion +tree when he arrived at the cannibal capital. I hear it hinted that +Mr. Acting-Governor rather took the wind out of the Government's +sails, but the thing's done and they can't repudiate it. In fact the +country was so pleased with Crawford's pluck, that the Government's +had to give him a knighthood." + +Lee-Wentworth laughed. "Some fellows do have all the luck." + +"Well," said his Captain, "whilst the rest of us have been working +here in our chains you've had a fine long enjoyable leave." + +"Which I'm afraid won't count much for promotion, sir." + +"I shouldn't be too sure of that if I were you," said the Captain +dryly. "I have to report privately on my officers, you know, and +even the British Admiralty sits up and takes notice if things are put +strongly enough. Have another glass of port. I'm sure you've earned +it after all the towelling you've gone through. Here's luck, Tommy. +I wish I'd your prospects ahead of me." + + + + +V + +THE INTERVENING WIRE + +Captain Kettle tapped Dr. Mary Brown sharply on the shoulder, and +that lady woke up with a start and shivered. She found the world +disgustingly cold, and wet, and dark. But she was briskly alive to +all possibilities. + +She leant towards Captain Kettle's ear and hissed: "What is it?" + +The little sailor shrank decorously away. "Here, Miss, take my +glasses, and you can see for yourself." + +She did so, and peered out diligently into the wet autumn night. + +Presently: "I can't see anything," she grumbled, "and the rain's got +down the collar of my oily, and has soaked through the elbows. I +know there are waves, by the sound they make on the shingle, but I +can't see them. Was there ever a blacker or colder night? And I +wish you wouldn't call me Miss." + +"No, Miss--I mean Doctor. But if you look long enough till you get +used to the dark, you'll see a submarine's periscope. I can pick it +up now with the naked eye. It looks like a drain-pipe stuck up on +end and going dead slow, and there's a wake of lighter water behind +it. By James, Miss, look! It's stopped now, and is growing longer. +Mr. Submarine's coming to the surface." + +A conning-tower rose out of the night sea, and presently men sprouted +from the top of it. The decks of the submarine did not show, and the +little waves splashed diligently against the foot of the +superstructure. + +"Come up to get his bearings," commented Captain Kettle. "I wonder +what water he has there; must be pretty shoal. Another fifty fathoms +on the old course and he'd have piled her up hard and fast on the +floor of Wales. Now, Miss--Doctor, I mean--you'll see him go astern +again till he's reached deep water." + +The girl clutched Kettle's arm and shook it. "You still won't +believe me, and I still stick to it. She's come in here for petrol, +as she did the time I told you about before. There, look! She's not +backing out to sea again as you said she would. She's moving nearer." + +"By James, Miss, you're right! She's creeping north along the coast. +Is this the exact spot where you saw her before?" + +"I'm afraid I couldn't tell to half a mile or so, Captain. It was +dark at the time." + +Kettle groaned, but forbore to say: "How like a woman!" Instead he +took back the glasses and kept them steadily fixed on the enemy below. + +"She'll be out of sight if you don't take care. Let's run along +after her." + +"They'd spot us on the cliff-head here against the sky in less than +two ticks. Lie down again, Miss, or I'll have to pull you. We may +be on the edge of a big thing here, and you're going the way to spoil +it. Lie down, Miss, I say. I'm in command here, and you've asked me +to treat you as a man, and, by James, I'll do it if you don't sit +tight, much as I should regret it." + +"Oh, very well," said Dr. Brown meekly. + +"I've got to own up, Miss, that the Dutchmen at sea since this war +began aren't the fools they used to be. They've had sense booted +into them during the last thirty years, and it's stuck, and now +they're using it. There, you see, Miss, she hasn't gone far. That +noise meant reversed propellers. They'd got her on to some +cross-bearings on the shore, and now they're stopping her, I should +judge, over some exact spot. You stay here, Miss. I must get some +cross-bearings, too, on where she is now." + +Dr. Mary Brown's voice showed a tendency to rise above the tone of +her former cautious whisper. "I'll come too. I'm half frozen to +death, crouching here. And besides, the--the beastly Germans may +land--and--and I should hate to be left alone." + +"Take my overcoat and wrap yourself in that," said Kettle patiently, +"and stay here. You can't crawl about on this cliff-top without +being seen. I can. You needn't be scared of the Dutchmen's landing, +as they won't have a boat. And you needn't be afraid of my not +finding my way back to you." + +"Not now you've left your coat," said Dr. Brown spitefully. "I +suppose you're sure to return for that?" + +"Certainly, Miss," said the sailor with simple truth. "You see, it's +my best one. If I'd only known we were in for this rough and tumble, +I'd have brought the other. I hate spoiling clothes. Good-bye for +the present, and don't move, so that I'll know where to find you +again." + +Captain Kettle moved from the lady's side, and with the craft of an +old stalker was promptly swallowed up by the darkness. + +Now with regret it must be recorded that Dr. Mary Brown was a +disappointed young woman. Brown, the father, was an easy-going man, +and well-off withal. He lived in Norfolk and bred prize cocker +spaniels, and his hope was that Mary would stay at home till in due +time she married one or other of some dozen eligible neighbours, and +settle down near him. Mamma Brown, who was stout and placid, and +famed throughout three counties for her begonias, coincided with +these views exactly. But Mary, who once went to a lecture on Wasted +Lives, stated she was not going to waste hers, and decided that her +use lay in Medicine--via Girton. + +She qualified in this intricate science, and was somewhat +disillusioned in the process. Thereafter she tried in a desultory +way for various appointments. Later, when these failed, she set up +her plate in Wych Street on the strength of a grudging paternal +allowance, and was still hoping for patients when the war broke out. + +Instantly she conceived the notion of Doctor Mary Brown's Private +Hospital for British Soldiers in France, and telegraphed for ample +supplies. But Brown the father didn't approve of women doctors +"messing about even women" in peace time, and he thoroughly +disapproved of their "adding another horror for the soldiers maimed +in war. If the girl had turned vet. (like some of them turn +gardeners), and could doctor cockers, she might be some use," said +Brown the father. "As it is, she's getting a bit of a dam' nuisance." + +"'Zactly, m'dear," said Mrs. Brown. "Just hold me this skein of +wool, will yaw?" + +So when a certain baroness (who shall otherwise be nameless in this +chronicle), finding that the game of making herself a nuisance +politically was put a stop to for the time being, thought she would +look nice in a Red Cross kit, Dr. Brown was able to oblige her by +coming into the expedition as surgeon. + +The League-o'-Women's Hospital, after outstaying its welcome in the +London picture papers, moved across to France, where it was known to +the vulgar as the All-Skirt Warriors, and was avoided by those in +authority. It wore the choicest thing in top-boots and a bushranger +hat, and as long as it was peaceful and did nothing it was allowed to +stay. When it began to flirt with the wounded subaltern in quantity, +it was sent off home one-time, with a flea in its ear. And Dr. +Brown, refusing shelter under the friendly ancestral roof, and +feeling mightily ashamed of herself for the company she had fallen +into, fled to the wilds of Wales to hide her scalding blushes. It +was during one moonlit night of penitence that she saw a submarine +sneak in and suck up supplies from some unseen store beneath the seas. + +In the first throb of interest she was minded to go with her news +direct to the Admiralty. But with breakfast and reflection she +changed her mind. She remembered the brutal treatment lately meted +out to her by the Admiralty's sister institution, the War Office, and +was minded to take the credit of whatever praise befell personally, +and to sail for the moment under the somewhat forgotten banner of the +suffragettes. As a point of fact, she cared not one straw for the +creed of the suffragettes, but in war--which this was going to +be--one needs a flag. Even pirates fly a skull and marrowbones, +argent on sable. + +As she professed no knowledge of seacraft, an executive was a +necessity, and at once a name leapt to her memory. Years ago she had +met Sir Owen Kettle for an hour on shipboard, and had never forgotten +him. Here was her man, if only she could get him. She delved his +address in Wharfedale from Who's Who, and took train for Grassington +within the hour. + +I pass over a somewhat thorny interview with Lady Kettle, who "though +a business lady herself" regarded "female doctors as indelicate," and +get on to the point where Captain Kettle, somewhat by stealth, joined +her at a six-house village on the Welsh seaboard. Lady Kettle +disliked her husband having truck or dealing with any women whatever +outside his own household, and made no bones about saying so, and the +little mariner came armed to the fray with strict admonitions on +these lines, as well as his own natural bashfulness. + +The tale, when it had been told him at first had been sufficiently +sensational, but it had grown thinner under discreet +cross-examination. The lady was doubtful about locality, and she did +not know if the submarine was British or German. No, she didn't +think it could have been a fishing-boat she had seen that night; she +was morally certain it must have been a submarine, though she could +not describe it in any way, and she could give no details of how the +vessel was getting the petrol inboard, or where it was coming from. +Only she was convinced that was what the boat was there for. "You +must trust a woman's intuition," said Dr. Mary Brown. But Captain +Kettle didn't. He was always a man without imagination. + +"If they've a lot of petrol tins anchored at the bottom of this bay," +said Captain Kettle, "it's likely they'll have some sort of a buoy +made fast to the end of the mooring." + +"Then we could see it from the shore." + +"Not necessarily, if the buoy is merely a bit of wood just awash. +But we could hunt for it, Miss, in a boat, if you think it worth +while." + +"Call me Doctor, please. Of course it's worth while. I'll hoist my +suffragette flag on that submarine before many days are over, when +you catch it for me, Captain. And in the meanwhile I have a boat, a +motor-boat, round at the fishing harbour. We can bring her here and +leave her in that cove of rocks at the foot of the cliff there, when +we're not using her." + +This they did, and during three days quartered the sea without +success, and Captain Kettle grew even more sceptical. But he stuck +manfully to the night watching, which Dr. Brown soon found wearying. +And then, to his surprise, came fulfilment, as has been recorded +above. + + +Dr. Mary Brown has admitted that she had half a mind to follow +Captain Kettle when he left her to stalk the submarine, but was +deterred by the shrewd notion that he would shake her if she came up +to him. She was sure he would shake her politely, but was confident +he would do it efficiently. So being a young woman with a full sense +of her own dignity, she decided to do as she was told for the time +being. + +But it was tedious work waiting. The Germans, as she could see +through the glasses now that she had got accustomed to them, were +full of activity. The submarine was still awash, and wavelets +splashed in mimic surf at the foot of her conning-tower. There was +little to attract the eye in that dark night unless one was looking +for it specially. The Germans might be replenishing their petrol +store, but Dr. Brown could not swear to it. In fact, if plain +evidence was needed, she could swear to little, and she realized this +and felt inclined (in a purely feminine way, of course) to swear at +much. + +And in the meanwhile Captain Kettle had disappeared into the +blackness of the night, and might, for all she knew, have thrown up +the whole affair in disgust and returned to his farmhouse +headquarters and bed. + +Then, like a trick in a theatre, clouds slid away from the moon, and +a green-grey submarine and her people were shown dished up +brilliantly on a glittering metallic sea. But as the scene was lit, +a man crawled out from the broken water on her submerged after-deck, +whipped a revolver from some pocket in his sodden clothes, and sent +three shots in brisk succession. Two men on the conning-tower fell +over into the sea. The third staggered, and in his turn produced a +weapon. But his fire was returned in style, and his knees collapsed +under him. + +The man on the submerged deck limped to the base of the +conning-tower, climbed it, and emptied the remaining two shots from +his revolver down the open hatch. Enough light came up this hatch to +illumine Captain Kettle's face, and Dr. Brown shivered when for the +first time she saw it in fighting trim. At the same time, she was +thrilled with the exultation the female always feels for the fighting +male, and, inconsistently enough, felt a sudden distaste for that +plump and matronly person, Lady Kettle. If only that unnecessary +woman were out of the way, she, Mary Brown--"Pish!" said Dr. Brown, +and frowned angrily. + +Shots came from below, and the invader's own pistol was empty. He +stripped two from the fallen Germans, and blazed away with these. He +was deliciously resourceful. Then he clapped down the lid of the +hatch, sticking an iron bar in it so that it should not shut +completely, and then with a length of wire rope lashed it firmly in +place. With this much to the good, he proceeded in leisurely fashion +to wring the surplus water from his clothes and to knead his collar +into reputable shape. + +The submarine was tethered by nothing stouter than an armoured rubber +hose to something unseen in the black waters off her starboard +quarter. She had no anchor down, nor so much as a line to the oil +source, whatever it was. She was kept in position by her engines +only, and was ready for an instant start at the smallest scare. The +oil, by the way, was a heavy, tar-like stuff, and by no means the +petrol which Dr. Mary Brown had diagnosed; and how it was stored at +the bottom of the sea Captain Kettle did not know, and, for the +moment, did not care. + +His main business, for the time being, was to capture that German +submarine intact. He felt at the moment he would like to have on his +tombstone: "Inventor of the Wharfedale Particular Methodists. Also +first to capture a German submarine." + +Now, the Germans below-decks on their part by no means went to sleep. +Dive they could not, by reason of an unshut hatch, but motor away for +the open sea they could and did. The armoured hose pulled thin and +burst with the first of the strain, and Captain Kettle, to his +disgust and annoyance, was sprayed from head to foot with stinking +fuel oil. But he saw then how the oil was stored beneath the waters +of that Welsh bay. + +Thereafter, he was swirled rapidly away towards the open sea. He +tried at first to control things somewhat with the conning-tower +steering-wheel, and did, indeed, contrive to make the submarine take +an alarming sheer towards the rocks. But they straightened her out +smartly enough with the propellers, and then took matters out of his +hands by disconnecting the upper deck wheel and steering her +themselves from below. So the sailor blinded them by taking the coat +of one of the fallen Germans and wrapping it round the head of the +periscope and stopping it there with a piece of spunyarn, and then +whilst casting around him for further resources of annoyance, came +across a cigar-case and a box of lights on the floor of the +conning-tower. + +"Belonged to that first officer I shot," he mused. "Well, I hope he +knew more about choosing tobacco than he did about looking after his +ship. By James, I've got her like a sprit-sail-yarded shark. She +can do nothing but bustle along on the top of the water like a +blinded fool. Only trouble is, she'll blunder into somebody's sight +if only she goes on long enough in this flurry, and I shall have to +take help, as likely as not from some Navy man, instead of doing the +job myself. By James, I should hate that. I must think a way out of +this, and in the meanwhile I'll give them wet feet to keep them busy." + +There was a roll of canvas, for sea-going bulwarks, lashed down at +one corner of the conning-tower's top, and from this Kettle contrived +a very simple and efficient water scoop, leading from the bitts on +the submerged foredeck, and delivering its contents through the gap +which the iron bar caused in the fit of the conning-tower hatch. The +interior of the submarine received from it a foaming cataract of +sea-water. As a tribute to the scoop's efficiency the speed of the +submarine was promptly eased, till her pace was too slow to force the +water up from the water level below. + +Captain Kettle shook his head doubtfully. "By James," he commented, +"these beastly Dutchmen are getting on. They know enough now to get +in out of the wet. They aren't the easy proposition they used to be. +If I'd time I could write some poetry on that." He chewed hard on +his cigar, and stared out thoughtfully through the night. + +In the meanwhile Dr. Mary Brown's short supply of patience had +completely evaporated. Moreover, her feet and her back were both +unpleasantly cold. So she made up her mind to ignore Captain +Kettle's explicit instructions, and got up with a haughty air, and +with elevated nose marched resolutely down to the cove behind the +rocks where her motorboat bobbed to its moorings. Captain Kettle and +her--_her_--submarine had disappeared seaward into space without +explanation, and she was going to see into the reason why without +further delay. She might have a sneaking admiration for Captain +Kettle--she might--well, that did not matter. The thing for the +moment was to prove to this small man with the red torpedo beard that +she was all of a woman, and not to be trifled with or neglected. And +for the time being it may be freely owned that she had forgotten all +about the suffragette flag, and was sailing under the banner of her +own injured dignity. Whip up her submarine--here--from under her +very nose, and walk off with it? She'd let him see. + +She cranked up her engine, and for a wonder it started readily, and +then tucking herself down to the wheel and advancing spark and +throttle to the full, she swished hardily out into the darkness. + +By luck the little zephyr of wind had dropped, and the sea was +glassily smooth. The boat was fast, and Dr. Brown felt the +exhilaration of her speed. What was going to be done when she +reached the Germans she did not know, but she was firmly determined +Captain Kettle should not do it without her. Of her life up to then +she felt she had made a mess, but she saw visions of a brilliant +future. Those visions embraced Captain Sir Owen Kettle. His +position in the limelight should be little inferior to her own. But +he would have to alter some of his ways. He must be taught that lady +doctors were the equals of any male practitioners, and the superiors +of most. And, above all things, he must give up his detestable habit +of praising patent medicines. + +Captain Kettle, in a German officer's dry cap and overcoat, received +her without enthusiasm. "Miss," said he, "I wish to James you were +safely at home and in bed. This iron box is packed with Germans, and +they're swine. There ought to be a law passed that no lady should go +within a hundred fathoms of any German. But now you are here I'll +not deny that your boat may have its use." + +"Call me Doctor, please, not Miss. What is it you want? Our flag?" + +Captain Kettle restrained his remarks. "Here," he said, "come +alongside, please, and I'll make you fast. You can step aboard here +and tell the Germans through this slit in the hatch that you want a +vote, and I'll get busy on something that matters. Starboard your +helm please, Miss." + +Doctor Brown stamped, but did as she was told. Presently the +motor-boat, with stopped engines, rode to a tow-line alongside the +conning-tower, with the sea-water slicing up between them. Captain +Kettle stepped across to the smaller craft, and busied himself inside +her engine hatch. He emerged presently with a pair of wires. + +"Now, Miss," said he in a whisper, "our Dutchman can't see through +his periscope, and he's steering by compass. He's got a sort of +pole-compass in the roof of his conning-tower, and he's getting his +bearings now by looking up at it from underneath. These wires come +from your sparking coil, and I'm going to take a turn with them round +his binnacle. They'll make the compass cant either to the Eastward +or the West--we shall have to find out by experiment which wire has +to go on to which terminal, and I shall have to bring the bight +towards the compass very gradually. We must go softly. These +Dutchmen are not to be sneezed at nowadays; they're getting to know +quite a thing or two of the white man's savvy; and if they guess +we're tampering with their compass, they'll as likely as not do the +bang opposite to what I want. So quietly does it." + +"Ye--es," said the lady. + +"Of course, Miss, as you say you're a doctor, you'll understand all +about it, and will be quite competent to manage the trembler end." + +Dr. Brown squeezed the little mariner's arm ecstatically. She had +not the vaguest notion of what Captain Kettle was talking about, but +she felt that now at last they understood one another, and said so in +a few well-chosen words. The sailor very nervously pulled his arm +away, and climbed back to the submarine as fast as his wooden leg +would let him, and thereafter found his orders attended to, +frequently with correctness, and always with enthusiasm. + +The process of deflecting the German's compass by an induced current +was a delicate one, and officially Captain Kettle was no electrician. +But a man who has earned his living as a master mariner in the +British mercantile marine through any reasonable number of years is +always competent to turn his hand to anything, from abdominal surgery +to tea-planting. The real niceness of the operation lay in the fact +that the little sailor had to carry in his head an invisible course +over an invisible sea, and jockey the German's compass so that she +should steer to it neither more nor less. + +As luck would have it, the moon had slid back again behind coy +clouds; the bold headlands of Wales had dissolved out into starless +dark; and the ordinary man, stuck out there in that lonely sea with +only a compass known to be lying, would have felt as hopeless as a +blind puppy on a prairie. Captain Kettle, however, held on to his +work with a brazen confidence. He probably had some glimmer of his +bearings not to be guessed at by the lay mind, and if he had not, he +showed no tremor; and, anyway, Dr. Brown, who "found the compass +detestable even when it was working" (as she confesses in her +Memoirs) had the fullest confidence in his skill and knowledge. She +wanted to board the submarine; she even demanded this as a right, and +the shy sailor, with the dread of companionable fingers on his +shoulder, was hard put to it to keep her at a safe distance in the +motor-boat. + +Just as the chill of dawn was gripping them, they came in sight of +the trawler. + +To be precise they nearly ran her down, but by dint of some +manipulation of wires that verged on the miraculous, Captain Kettle +gave a jolt to the compass (and incidentally to the nerves of the +German quartermaster below) and the submarine swerved like an eel and +escaped the blow. + +Now in the ordinary course of events, that should have been the +beginning and end of the episode. German submarines are notoriously +unhealthy for British fishing craft, and this one was as unmistakably +German as the trawler (by her marks) was indisputably a Grimsbyman. +The steam trawler _Ulfrida Crump_ she was by name, and the fishy +smell of her caused Captain Kettle emphatically to spit. Her habits, +however, were peculiar. She sidled down alongside and began to +talk--in German. + +Captain Kettle had, as his record shows, the gift of tongues, but it +had always been a matter of pride with him never to speak German. +His habit was to force Germans with whom he came in contact to speak +one of the civilized languages--English for choice. But in this +process of strenuous tuition he had picked up a good understanding +knowledge of the tongue, and it was of use to him now. + +"Miss," he whispered huskily down to Dr. Brown, "lie down in the +bottom of that motor-boat, please, and don't shift till I tell you. +They think by my cap and coat I'm a blessed Dutchman. There's going +to be some fancy shooting in about ten ticks. The _Ulfrida Crump's_ +got into bad hands." + +"I've--I've got a revolver of my own here." + +"Then for the Lord's sake drop it over into the ditch. I'd be as +nervous as a canary with a new bath if you started any fancy shooting +down there." + +The stream of voluble German from the steam trawler's pilot house +changed in tone from civility to menace. + +"If you don't stop that language, you cross-eyed son of a Dutch +thief," shouted the little sailor grimly, "I'll come across to that +packet and kick your backbone through your hat." + +The German gaped. Then, "_Gott strafe_----" he began, and lugged at +something in his pocket. + +"You must be a lot quicker on the draw than that, my lad," said +Kettle as he shot him, "to have a chance of growing up in this wicked +world. The rest of you aboard there, listen. The next man who tries +to pull a gun, or to get on to that topside deck, drops too. And by +James, let me tell you, you Dutchmen are a jolly sight easier to +shoot than Upper Wharfedale rabbits, though less interesting when +dead." + +A man, with both hands thrust high above his head, stammered a reply: +"But, Most Gracious, you do not understand. We are your relief ship. +Our own was sunk. We took this, and transferred our supplies. And +here we are as good Germans as yourself, though sailing in this +condemned trawler." + +"What did you do with the English crew? Can they tell tales?" + +"Oh, that is all right, Gracious Herr. We set them swimming. You +would have laughed to see them in their high boots. We laughed, I +tell you. They did not swim for long. All is safe. This is war, +and it does not do to leave these things to chance." + +"I see. She carried about ten of a crew. I suppose?" + +"Thirteen, Gracious Herr." + +"It's an unlucky number. Unlucky for them, poor devils, and just as +unlucky for you." + +"_Herr Gott!_ What----" + +"Half a minute. How many of the blighters alongside you understand +English?" + +"English? What, you are English? Has our U-boat been captured? +Say, are you English?" + +"As a matter of birth, I am Welsh, though it is an item that is often +overlooked by those who know me. But for working purposes you can +call me English, and not be far out. There, I told you not to try +and shoot, and now you've got it in the department where you stow the +sausage, a very dangerous place according to the doctors." + +Captain Kettle slipped from his perch, and stood on the plating +below, knee-deep in swirling sea-water. A hailstorm of bullets +whistled across the top of the conning-tower, and continued to +whistle. The Germans had good aim, but little moderation. At +intervals Captain Kettle peeped from the shelter of the +conning-tower, and took rapid shots. He seldom missed. He had +always been deadly with a revolver, and of late years on the +Wharfedale farm, practice with a shot gun at rabbits which dodged in +and out of the limestone rocks of Craven, had if anything smartened +his eye. + +A smothered voice came from the motor-boat below. "Are you killed, +Captain?" + +"As right as the mail, thank you, Miss. I've only one trouble." + +"What is it? C--can I do anything?" + +"If you could provide me with a rhyme to 'Submarine' I'd be happier. +I've just been making up the dinkiest little verse you ever listened +to, and it's stuck in the last line." + +At this point a muffled risp-rasping noise obtruded itself on Captain +Kettle's attention, and he looked up and noted that some one had +pushed a hacksaw through the gap in the conning-tower hatch and was +vigorously cutting at the wire rope that held it down. The sailor +seized the end of the tool and pulled. The owner at the other end +pulled too, and he was, if not the stronger, at least as strong a +man. But Kettle with a flick broke the brittle blade, and then with +a sharp wrench snapped the cast-iron spreader, and--"Uneasy lot these +Dutchmen are," he commented. "If I don't look out they'll be giving +trouble yet, and I suppose there must be thirty of them still +stinking away together inside this tin box. I did design taking them +ashore for the Government to pamper, but I'm sure the country would +be better if I made good Germans of them here in the wet. As for +those blighters on the _Ulfrida Crump_, they've followed their +beastly nature and laughed in the wrong place once too often, and +they're going to hell fire as soon as it can be managed. Yes, Miss?" + +"If you're really in earnest, would 'Britain's Queen' do for your +rhyme?" + +"Perfectly, Miss, and thank you greatly. We've a King in charge at +the moment, but I can work in his lady wife all right. Let me think +now.... 'Huns obscene' ... Ah, got that swine with the blue nightcap +fairly in the liver wing. That makes five I've bagged on the +_Ulfrida Crump_, Miss. Not bad, for an early morning's shoot. +There, I thought so. The blighters are sheering off out of pistol +range." + +"Oh, what are they going to do now?" + +"Try and worry out how to communicate with their fellow-sausages in +the tin coffin here, Miss, and then try to join forces and eliminate +us. I tell you that bit of verse is coming into shape grandly, Miss." + +"Please don't frivol, and for goodness' sake call me Doctor. Can't +you see that everything's deadly serious? I do believe you're +actually enjoying yourself." + +The little sailor heaved an immense sigh. "Miss, it's abominable, +but I've been in places I've liked. worse. You see, between you and +me, up on the farm in Wharfedale there are moments (for a man that's +spent a busy life) when it is a bit quiet; though, of course, there +is always the chapel on Sunday to look forward to, and my sermon to +get up. Lady Kettle," he added rather bitterly, "has had the +advantage of occupying our pulpit these last two Sundays, and, if +she's increased the congregation of the Wharfedale Particular +Methodists, I'll eat my wooden leg. She's a clever woman, a vastly +clever woman, Miss, but she's not got the knack of preaching to suit +the stomachs of our chapel members, and that's a fact. I wish you +could see our chapel, Miss, on a nice, rainy Sunday in autumn----" + +"Look, Captain, look! The Germans are trying to press up that +lid--thing." + +"Then we'll give them some asphyxiating gases," said the little +mariner genially, and thrust a revolver muzzle in through the crack +in the hatch and fired three rapid shots. "There, those will +ricochet grandly inside that tin box, and they can share the proceeds +amongst them. Did it ever occur to you, Miss, that it's a terribly +sad thing to be born a German? Since I've given up handling them at +sea, and taken to the Ministry, I've often sent up a prayer that no +more of them should undergo the unpleasantness of being born. Fancy +a world clean of Germans! There's a chance for poetry! My Great +James!" + +"Whatever is it, Captain?" + +"Just something I thought of, Miss, though it is a hundred-to-one +chance." + +The little sailor climbed nimbly back to the top of the +conning-tower, and made rapid inspection. At one corner was a small +iron box, locked. With a neat blow of his sound foot he kicked open +the lid. Inside were six switches--switches to the six torpedo +tubes--each with its appropriate brass label. + +"It's a hundred pounds to a case of gin they cut the connections when +they left the top side here, and, anyway, I'm no torpedo-layer. Let +me see now ... that _Ulfrida Crump_ is doing about eight point five +... I'll give her two degrees." + +With which decision he made cautious readjustments of his +compass-deflecting wire, and set about training the submarine to the +angle he sought. Then he threw over the switch to the bow tube. + +The incredible happened. The Germans--the methodical, plodding, +scientific Germans--had left the connections of the deck control +intact. A 20-inch torpedo jumped out of the bow tube with a +splutter, and sped away, leaving a vivid wake of soda-water. + +The Germans on the _Ulfrida Crump_ saw her, and howled. They tried +to change course and stop engines, but had no time to do either +effectively. The steel fish hit them on the quarter with a +shattering explosion. It carried T.N.T. enough to have blown up a +battleship, and so made small bones of a trumpery steam trawler. And +apparently the trawler carried a hefty wad of munitions for her +friend the submarine. These went off piecemeal as the bits of her +sank. + +Captain Kettle lit another of the German captain's cigars, and felt +that he was once more in the swim of things. + +"All right, Miss," he called down to the motorboat, "you may sit up +and look round now. There's nothing objectionable afloat. I'm sorry +for the fish, that's all. Men that laugh like those men did aren't +wholesome. Phew! haven't these fancy new explosives a bad smell to +them? Well, there's one comfort, our fine tin yacht here is taking +us quickly out into sweet air again. Haven't they whooped up the +speed since we buzzed off that cracker?" + +"What's their idea? Where do they think they are going?" + +"If this compass was acting as Nature and Lord Kelvin intended, she'd +be heading for the Wolf Rock, and then round the corner and down +Channel for happy Dutchland. Oh, they've picked up navigation all +right, these Dutchmen, and no error about that. You don't catch +these new swine making an error of thirty minutes in their +observations a matter of habit like the old crowd did. +But--ahem!--they sleep unconscious of the wire, that goes about their +tower higher." + +Captain Kettle coughed and blushed, and looked rather coyly for Dr. +Mary Brown's comment. That young woman, however, had not the vaguest +idea of what he was talking about--be it remembered she "always found +compasses detestable." She was horribly shocked at what had +occurred. "And you've killed them all!" she lamented. + +"I'm sorry there were so few, Miss. If you feel any qualms, try and +remember those fishermen who got laughed at because they couldn't +swim in top-boots. A lot of those would be married men with wives to +support at home, and likely enough a parcel of youngsters. You know +what fishermen are in that way, Miss. It doesn't do to let Dutchmen +laugh at Britishers. It gives them ideas above their station." + +"But you're not going to kill the poor fellows in the submarine? +You'll take them prisoners?" + +The sailor pulled doubtfully at his red torpedo beard. "A dozen +years back I'd have said yes, Miss. But these modern Dutchmen have +learnt to shoot, and don't mind doing it. Besides, we haven't such a +thing as a pair of irons about your ship." + +"You'll have to take their parole." + +"I'm afraid that's a French word, Miss, that they don't understand, +and it would be a bit too much of a strain to teach them at this time +of day." + +"Well," said Dr. Brown doggedly, "you will own, Captain, that I +thought out the whole of this scheme. What I want, and what you must +help me to do, is to see that submarine sail into port under the +suffragette flag, and her crew taken ashore under a suffragette +guard. This means a great deal to me, Captain." + +"Yes, Miss," said Kettle politely, "I see you're set on it." + +"And don't you agree with me that what I've mapped out is the proper +course? Say honestly, now." + +Captain Kettle, in his humble way, set Great Britain first, but he +was not a man to put such a ridiculous idea into bald words. +Instead, he got rather redder than nature had already made him, and +said a little haltingly that they "must see," and, as an +afterthought, added that he was sure they would both of them do their +little best. And Dr. Brown pitied his hesitating speech, but felt +sure he meant what he said. The worst of these merchant service +captains was that they had such a pitiful lack of expression, thought +Dr. Mary Brown. + + +The submarine was drawing a foot more water than Kettle had reckoned +on, and so grounded before he expected. She was doing her fourteen +knots at the time, and the jolt was severe. Captain Kettle was +within an ace of being shot overboard, and, as it was, dinged himself +rather shrewdly on the conning-tower rail. The motor-boat stubbed +violently on her painter, and Dr. Brown received a most indecorous +tumble, which the sailor was too polite to notice till she had +readjusted herself angrily on to her feet. The vessels lay on a +narrow beach of sand at the foot of cliffs. + +"Now, Miss," said Kettle, throwing away the sodden stump of his last +cigar, "here's the place where you can be really useful. Can you fix +up an electric fuse for a bomb?" + +"What for?" + +"Well, you see, Miss, I've found quite a store of nice little handy +bombs in one of this conning-tower's lockers--the sort they blow up +surrendered steamers with. It's a regular Swiss Family Robinson's +ship this, for handy stores." + +"But it was arranged we were to set the crew free, on parole. I +ordered you to do that not ten minutes ago. You can't have +forgotten." + +"Quite so, Miss. But I'm just wanting to get ready a little stand-by +in case of accidents. It's just possible these Dutchmen may give +their parole easily enough, and then forget all about it when they +see there are only two of us." + +"Oh, if you doubt them beforehand----" + +"Nothing unpleasant meant, Miss, believe me. But I am a family man, +and expected home again, and one can't afford to take unnecessary +risks. The question is, can you fix up an electric exploder on to +one of these bombs? It's out of my line, but I suppose with your +college learning it will come as easy to you as boiling a saucepan of +tea." + +"I know nothing whatever about the subject," said Dr. Mary Brown +shortly. + +"Well, Miss," said the sailor with a sigh, "I suppose I must worry it +out myself. I only hope I don't blow off any fingers in the process. +These detonators are nasty things for an ordinary man to play about +with." + +Thereafter for the next hour he was busied over mysterious devices to +this end, only breaking off once to shed his German cap and overcoat, +and again to attend to some other enthusiast who had found another +hack-saw, and was once more attempting to cut through the wire that +secured the conning-tower hatch. + +When his labours were complete, Captain Kettle got over the +submarine's side and found the outboard ends of the broadside torpedo +tubes. The boat had grounded on a falling tide, and he was able to +work, standing on the sand, with the water just above his middle. He +took it for granted that a live torpedo was ready inside each port, +and slung bombs so that an explosion would set these off. He was a +man who always liked full effects for his firework displays. Then he +completed his wiring, took tests, and went ashore with the balance of +the wires to where the motor-boat lay high and dry beside a tidy lump +of rock on the beach. + +"Now, Miss," said he, "as soon as you have got half a mile away I +will get things moving." + +Dr. Mary Brown put her chin in the air. "I shall stay here," she +announced, "and take the surrender myself." + +There was a silence. She turned slowly, and saw beside her a +truculent-looking man, who was very different from the little sailor +who had blushed so readily and done her bidding with such politeness. + +"Get out of this, one-time," he ordered. + +Dr. Brown did as she was told. + +The sailor waded back to the submarine, climbed on board, climbed to +the conning-tower top, and inquired for the officer in command. + +"I am Captain Kettle. Who are you?" + +A name and rank were given. + +"I want your unconditional surrender." + +"I give it. I have no alternative." + +"You are to come up one by one, unarmed, go ashore, and attempt no +retaliation. Do you promise that?" + +"Again I have no alternative. I promise." + +"In the name of yourself and crew?" + +"In the name of all of us. I swear it on my honour." + +"Good. Keep that promise in memory. I am casting off the down-haul +on this hatch. In two minutes' time you may come out, unarmed, +remember, one by one, and go off as instructed. Got all that?" + +"Perfectly." + +Captain Kettle waded ashore, walked to the motor-boat, uncoupled one +of the terminals, switched on the trembler, and stood by with the +loose terminal in his hand. "Come along," he hailed. "Come along, +the first man." + +A bearded officer shot up through the hatch, glared around him, and +called below. Then he hailed the landscape generally. "Who do I +surrender to?" + +Captain Kettle bowed politely. + +"You! You are not even Navy? You are alone?" + +"Quite." + +"Then I take back what I said." + +"I felt sure you would," said Captain Kettle. "But I'll blow you and +your whole outfit to the place you came from if you don't do exactly +as I ordered." + +"Pig-face!" yelled the German, and bawled down the hatch. A gush of +armed men answered him, and then Captain Kettle connected the loose +terminal. + +* * * * * + +When the sailor came to his senses Dr. Mary Brown had his head on her +arm, and was looking down at him with more tenderness than he +considered wholesome for a married man. + +"I thought the end of the world had come," she told him. "I never +dreamt such an explosion could be possible. There is no vestige of +anything left. And the cliff has fallen down on the top of where it +was." + +"I told you, Miss," said Kettle rather faintly, "I was a poor hand at +arranging these sort of things." + +"You are wounded, too. Let me examine you." + +Captain Kettle pulled himself together, and stood up. "Oh, that's +all right, thank you, Miss. I've only got a bit of a dint in the +forearm." + +"Well, I'll cut away your coat, and we'll see how bad it is." + +The sailor stepped back, and took off the garment himself, and then +felt in a pocket and produced a small old-fashioned pewter flask. +"I'm glad that's not hurt, anyway, Miss. It is full of Horner's +Perfect Cure, the best thing in the world for cuts and stomachic +troubles." + +"But, my dear Captain, you must not use a patent medicine at a time +like this. You are really wounded, and, though you keep on +forgetting it, I am really a doctor. I will dress it for you." + +"I am sure you are what you say," said Captain Kettle soothingly. +"But you see, Miss, this wound is rather a personal matter, and I +wish it properly attended to. I am going to dress it with Horner, +and I am going to drink half the rest of the flask. Then all will be +well. I will give you what is left, and if you use it with judgment, +believe me, you will lay the foundation of a really valuable medical +practice. With Horner's Perfect Cure, Miss, you can tackle +everything that comes into the biggest hospital in London or South +Shields. It's the last word in medicine, and, mark you, I know. +I've tried everything that's advertised. + +"I believe, by the way, Miss, I never told you where that submarine +was getting her fuel oil from. They had it stored in a couple of old +marine boilers from some wreck which were lying just under the +surface of the bay. I could see them quite clearly." + + + + +VI + +REJOINING AT ONCE + +We will call him Plough--Lieutenant John B. Plough, R.N.--because +that name is not in the Navy List, and his own is. He had been on +special leave at Marienbad "on urgent private affairs," which in less +technical English might be explained as an expedition to that German +health resort with a view of inspecting a girl he had danced with +twice at home, and trying to persuade her that her mission in life +was to become Mrs. Plough. And from this idyllic occupation he had +been torn by a bald telegram which commanded him to "Rejoin at Once." + +He wondered vaguely what was up. He had not seen an English paper +for a week, and could not read German, and had heard no word about +the threatened war. But he was too good an officer to question such +an order. He packed his traps, saw the girl, explained the case to +her in ten words, kissed her rapturously, much to her surprise, and +just caught the 5.40, without having time to register his luggage. +Thereafter began his troubles. + +The train lagged minutes, and half-hours, and hours behind scheduled +time, and finally gave up its attempt altogether. An order was +passed for "All turn out." The line was commandeered for troops. +Civil traffic must go round by so-and-so and so-and-so, which were +apparently German junctions further east, but nobody seemed to have +heard of them before. A train for that route would leave in six +hours' time. + +It was fifteen hours before that train got started, and even when it +was under way a mule tram could have beaten it for speed. John B. +Plough, being a Naval man, arrived in the train clean-shaven, +well-fed, and rested. The balance of the passengers were +be-draggled, and cross, and tired. Plough gave up his window seat in +a first-class carriage to a middle-aged Englishwoman with a capable +face, and went and stood in the corridor. + +The train travelled on single lines through a country unknown to +English tourists, and stopped at innumerable stations at which the +platforms were all full of excited people. But progress northwards +to the coast was sure if it was slow. At intervals officials, not +belonging to the railway, came into the carriages and stared rudely +at the passengers. They passed insolent eyes over all +non-Germans--especially the women--and made notes in pocket-books +which seemed to amuse them. Certain of the fathers and husbands and +brothers got annoyed, and said things, though this did not in the +least abate the nuisance. J.B. Plough said nothing. He wanted to +get home. + +Finally the train drew in to the outskirts of a Port--what Port must +be left vague here, for reasons which will appear--and official +vigilance increased. A spectacled man in uniform--everybody seemed +to be in uniform here--came into the carriage with six aggressively +armed soldiers at his heels. + +"Passports?" + +They none of them had one. An American, with dry humour, explained +that Cooks had told him passports were only needed now in the +uncivilized parts of Europe. + +"Arrest all these pig-dogs," said the official, and went on to the +next carriage. And arrested they were--children, women, and men. + +Thereafter came a most galling part of the exodus. The streets of +the Sea Port were crammed with people, troops for the most part, and +all jeered and hooted as the prisoners were marched through them. +The officer of their escort seemed to possess little of the boasted +German order and method. He dragged them from office to office, and +from prison to prison, arguing and expostulating with the keepers of +each, and every time being sent on somewhere else. The prisoners +lagged and expostulated, but the bayonets of the escorts pressed them +into movement, and the weak ones limped along as best they could. +Plough had a child on his back, and the middle-aged Englishwoman he +had talked to in the train, on his arm, by the time they reached a +destination that seemed a final one. + +This looked a private house, was in the Wilhelm Strasse, and turned +out to be their captor's personal residence. He proceeded to arrange +the forty prisoners in front of him and pompously to examine them. + +The majority claimed to be, and probably were, Americans, and +produced letters and other documents to prove it. Also being tired +and angry, they told him exactly what the little old United States +would do when their President got busy, and woke up to the fact of +his insignificant existence. + +This being patently true, probably frightened Jack-in-Office, but +like Pharaoh of old it also hardened his heart, and he refused to let +them go. So they were herded apart for the time being in another +room, with a couple of fixed bayonets to keep them soothed. The +French were similarly filtered out, insulted, and set apart. There +remained Plough, and the middle-aged woman of the train whose name he +did not know. + +"Names?" They gave them. + +"English?" Certainly. + +"What relation to one another?" + +"None," said Plough. + +"Liar," said Jack. "You are son and mother. I have seen you arm in +arm." + +"Evidence seems hardly conclusive," suggested the Naval man, who was +used to sifting testimony. + +The lady coloured with annoyance at being thought old enough to have +such a strapping son. + +"Zo! You show confusion, because I haf der truth discovered. You +shall be shut up together, and if I had my way, on to-morrow you +should be shot, you treacherous pig-dogs of English that dare to make +war on Germany. Away with dem." + +Shut up together they were, in a small bare room at the top of the +house, but the supply of bayonet-bearers having run out of stock, a +locked door was considered enough for them. + +Plough went to the window. "Phew! four stories from the ground, and +not so much as a fall-pipe to climb down by. And we're at war with +Germany, by gad, and I'm here." + +"And you're in the Navy?" said madam. + +"How did you find that out?" + +"Well, for one thing you carry your trade mark about with you +plainly, and for another you were walking about Marienbad with a +young lady who is a customer of mine, and I asked who you were and +got told." + +"Sorry I didn't see you at Marienbad." + +"Not at all. We are in different sets, and likely to remain so. But +we've got an interest in common. We both want to get out of here. +You, I presume, wish to rejoin your ship. I have a big millinery +business in Bradford that will go to pieces if I'm not there to look +after it; and I've two daughters, too, who will want me, though," she +added as a tart afterthought, "they aren't anywhere near so old as +you." + +"Eh?" said Plough, who didn't quite follow this last on the spur of +the moment. "Oh, I see. Yes, it was pretty beastly rude of that +bumptious ass downstairs. Now, if he'd only guessed us as brother +and sister, what?" + +"That would have been quite as impossible as the other," said madam +uncompromisingly. "Let's get to the point. You, I suppose, would +risk a good deal to get home?" + +"I'd risk my neck," said the sailor simply. "But I don't see any way +out of this room." + +"Well, I do. The question is, if I help you out of here will you +take me along with you as far as you go?" + +"I shouldn't care to risk it. You see, pardon my putting it bluntly, +but you're a woman." + +"I've reason to suspect it. But when it isn't a case of walking, +which I frankly admit I can't do in these absurd shoes, I'm tougher +than most men. Come now, Mr. Plough, I know the way out and you +don't. Will you take me?" + +Lieutenant John B. Plough hesitated for a moment, frankly looking +madam over. Then, "it's a deal," said he, "and if anything happens +to you--well, it'll have happened to me first. Now, where's the way +out?" + +"Through that door." + +"Door. Why, my good lady, that's wall." + +"Also door. It's papered like the rest of the wall, but I noticed +the keyhole, and whilst you were staring out of window I opened it. +It leads to the next house." + +"And after we get there, what then?" + +"I leave that to you, partner," said madam, giving him the State +curtsy she taught to customers who bought Presentation Gowns. + +John B. Plough's grin wrinkled up his face. "Madam," said he, +"you're a daisy. The Lord, He only knows what amount of +Hoch-der-Kaisers there are in the next house, and if we're caught +we're liable to be tried for anything between simony and arson; but +if you're game to come with me, I'm game to take you. And, blow me, +if you'll teach me stitching I'll teach you sailoring." + +"Go on into that house," said madam, "and don't talk twaddle. I want +to get home to my work." + +The passage of the next house proved to be the easiest thing +imaginable. They went inside, found the stair, and crept down it +like cats to the next landing. They were undisturbed. They crept +down the next flight, and the next, and--the next, and stood in a +barbarously furnished hall, full of light from raw electrics. There +was not a sound or a whisper in the whole house. + +"All out bean-feasting," said Plough, "and arranging which estates +they'll have when they have taken England. Come along, partner." + +"Madam, please," said the lady, and pulled the latch of the front +door. + +"Half a minute. Do you know this city?" + +"I don't even know the name of it." + +"H'm, I'm ahead of you there. It's----. Now let me worry out where +we are and how the river-front lies. Don't speak for at least +fifteen seconds.... Right, I've got it. We must bear east with a +bit of north in it. Salt water's my pigeon, and as we've got to +cross it to get home, we may as well make for it at once. Now let me +open that door, part--madam, and we'll get under way." + +Wilhelm Strasse, when they stepped out into it, closing the house +door behind them, was a mere crowd of people. All were talking, and +most looked important. A German occupies far more standing-room for +an ordinary conversation than is sufficient for the Briton, by reason +of his language being obscure and the necessity of eking it out by +dumb show, and when his hand semaphoring is cramped by a crowd, it is +enough to irritate him at once. + +"Madam," said John B. Plough with an explanatory wave that was really +a very passable imitation of the genuine article, "you've got to +carry in your head the bed-rock fact that these people are all as mad +as hay, and if they drop to the fact that you come from Bradford, +England, they're just as likely as not to lynch you. Do you speak +German?" + +"Not a word." + +"Quite right. It's a filthy language. But you mustn't let any one +hear a word of even your worst English. Happy thought--we're both +deaf and dumb." + +"I don't even know the deaf and dumb alphabet." + +"Nor do I. But we're the educated kind with a sort of Admiralty code +of our own. Madam, I'm not joking; you must look serious and keep it +up." + +The next street was quieter; and the next street after which they +branched into was quieter still. + +"I do feel lonely out of that crowd," muttered Plough. "This is just +the place for some busy ass to spot us for what we are. Keep it up, +madam. Here are two heroes coming across the road to ask why and +wherefore." + +Two men came and planted themselves firmly across the pavement, and +put questions in rapid German. Plough replied in his best imitation +deaf and dumb. One of the Germans rocked with laughter. The other +said spitefully: "Zo! English spies. We will take you to the polis." + +"I doubt it," said John B. Plough, and laid stringent hands on the +outside ear of each, and bumped their heads violently together. + +The two inquirers collapsed into a limp heap on the pavement. Plough +plucked the lady by the arm, and ran with her round the next corner, +and the next corner after that. + +And then: "You really must try and talk more realistic deaf and dumb, +madam," said he, "or you will get us into bad trouble presently." + +"That's right, lay the blame on me," said she rather breathlessly. +"How like a man!" + +"I'm sorry your first wasn't a success," said John B. Plough with a +grin, "but there may be better times coming. Cheer up, madam. +Here's the water front. Now we'll begin to move." + +They stood on the string-piece of a wharf, looking upstream and down, +through an opalescent river-mist; and to them, up some weed-covered +steps, there suddenly arrived a man in uniform. He stopped, stared +at them, and then cried: "Zo, und again, Eenglish." + +"Well, don't make a song about it," said Plough. + +"You admeet? Zo! Den you come along mit me." + +"Got an appointment elsewhere," said Plough, and clipped the man +under the jaw. He tripped backwards over the string piece, and fell +with a splash into the river. + +"He'll drown," said madam, shivering. + +"He probably will if he can't swim," said Plough philosophically. +"He should have thought of that before he started being impertinent +to a comparative stranger. These Germans always are so unmannerly. +But he's left a boat tied up at the bottom of these stairs, and I +guess we'd better use it. Mind your skirts against the weed and the +mud, and for the Lord's sake don't skid." + +"You go first," said madam, "and help me down." + +The boat, once it was cast off from the stairs, swung down stream, +and in the charge of a strong ebb, sped away towards the river's +mouth. They whirled past half a dozen destroyers, which blazed with +light, and were alive with men. + +"I thought we should have been stopped there," said the sailor, "but +there's evidently nothing doing. And we're told in the text-books to +look up to the business methods of these Germans. Got your wind back +yet, madam?" + +"You look after the boat, and never mind me. Why are you going stern +first?" + +"Because I can see better front ways than through the back of my +head. The ebb's taking us five knots, and that's quite fast enough +for a clumsy tub like this. We shall be coming across shipping hung +up to moorings soon, if they haven't removed the buoys. I want to +try my soft eloquence on the packet that's nearest the sea." + +The fairway was full enough of life. Big steamers were coming up for +sanctuary against British raiders; coasting craft whose business was +ended, were hunting for mud berths; and a tug in charge of the last +four-masted sailing ship that was to win home for many disastrous +months, hooted dismally to show her importance. And moving amongst +these were the launches and picket boats of an anxious Navy. The +small rowing boat with its two occupants was far too insignificant an +object for notice amongst hurrying interests such as these. At last +they drifted down to the line of the outer moorings, and found there +one steamer, where in normal times there would have been twenty. + +"A hulking 2000-ton collier, with the coal still in her," announced +Plough. "Kind of ship they build on Tyneside by the mile, and cut +off in lengths as ordered, and stick a bulkhead across the ends for +bow and stern. She's no accommodation ladder, madam. Can you climb +a Jacob's stair-case?" + +The lady bit her lips. "I'll have to. I must get home." + +"Mind your eye, then," said Plough, and ran his boat alongside. He +made fast his painter to a dangling davit fall, and helped madam up +the uneasy ladder. A fat man appeared from above and handed her over +the rail. Plough followed, and addressed him. + +"You the master?" + +"Captain's ashore, if that's what you mean." + +"Ah, yes, of course, he would be." + +"He was fetched by the police." + +"Like them, the busy brutes. I see you've steam. Well, we'll get +under way at once." + +"Look here, mister man, I'm mate of this packet, and in charge, and +I'm the one that gives the orders. Who the hell are you?" + +"I am Lieutenant J.B. Plough, of the Navy, and I've come here to take +you home, because you don't seem able to do it yourself. Call up the +chief engineer to let me know the instant he can give me full steam, +and then you can unshackle from the buoy and we'll be off." + +The fat mate scratched his nose with a dirty finger nail. "And +you--as representing the Navy--assume all responsibility?" + +"Any God's quantity of it. Now get a move on, Mr. Mate, or we shall +have the German Fleet round here presently wanting us to sign a stack +more of official forms in triplicate." + +"The Lord preserve us from any more documents," said the mate +piously, and jumped for the engine-room. + +Steam was ready for full speed--which was nine knots--and the chief +himself brought word that in half an hour's time he "could whack her +up to nine-point-five." + +"Been in the Navy myself, sir," he added, "as a tiffy, and glad +enough to rejoin again if you can get us home out of this. If I may +suggest, sir, the lady had better have my room. The old man's cabin +is hardly decent. He's papered it with portraits of his lost loves +till there isn't space left for so much as a shaving-glass." + +"Make it so," said Plough. "And, Mr. Mate, when I take the strain +off her with the engines, just unshackle from the buoy with as little +noise as you can manage. If you started playing a tune with your +windlass, we'd have some one coming to inquire why. They're a +desperate lot of busybodies up there at the Port." + +The unwieldy collier was, of course, lying head up stream. Lieut. +Plough jockeyed her round between the narrow limits of the fairway, +and then rammed down the handles of his engine-room telegraph to full +speed ahead, and set a course for home. Then he began to equip ship +and crew for war. + +He tackled the crew first. Could any of them speak German fluently? +Two of them did--for the very sound reason that they were Germans. +They were a couple of deckhands who had run to sea to escape the +conscription, and they were both very frightened men at the idea of +being caught by their compatriots. + +Lieutenant Plough examined them with a thoughtful eye. "There is not +much to choose between you as regards physiogs. You both look German +enough to play in a band. Now let's see how you can give a word of +command. Suppose you're a full-fledged skipper. Say, 'Lower away +those boats.' Say it in German, and say it as if you meant it. You, +first." + +The man let off a sudden bawl. + +"Now you." + +Number two man yapped the order in true officer's style. + +"Yes, you're the better of the two. Now, which of you is about the +build of your late skipper?" + +The second man grinned, and believed he was. + +"Right. Go you to the master's room and rootle out a full kit of +uniform--coat and cap, and the more brass binding it has on it the +better. Then come back to this bridge. I may want you to appear as +captain here, and the more trigged out you are in uniform, the more +you'll appeal to the German official mind. Mr. Mate?" + +The mate waddled to the upper bridge. + +"Well?" + +"Say 'sir' when you speak to me. Got that?" + +"Yes--sir." + +"Good. Then I want two big heavy weights, up to a ton, or a ton and +a half, on the foredeck there." + +"There's a young locomotive boiler down under number two hatch on the +top of the coals, if that will do--sir." + +"Derrick carry it?" + +"Not without preventer stays--sir." + +"Then rig them, and get off your hatch, and heave it up on deck at +once. What about number two weight?" + +"I can't think of another--sir." + +"I can. There's that forrard winch. Unbolt it from the deck, cast +off the steam pipes, and tell me when you have it adrift. And, just +one other thing. Work silently. There's a fog coming on, and it +will carry sounds like a telephone. Hullo, there's madam." He +jumped down the upper bridge ladder, and stood before her. "Now I +thought I'd got you comfortably stowed away in a clean, warm room, +out of harm's way. You really mustn't come out on deck here." + +"I don't want to be a burden to you. The room was clean, certainly. +But warm! It was like a greenhouse. And the smell of oil! Perhaps +you didn't know, but the cabin I was given opened right on to the +engine-room. I should have been sick if I'd stayed there another +minute." + +"My good woman, if necessary, be sick. Other people have tried it +and survived. If you're spotted out on deck here by the chap I'm +expecting, it's all up with us--and, by gad! there he is, away on the +port bow. Here, this is the skipper's drawing-room. In you go." + +He bustled her into the chart-house, slammed the door behind her, and +ran up to the bridge. "Quartermaster, see that cruiser broad on the +port bow?" + +"Yessir." + +"Bear down to her, and if she moves, follow her." + +"Yessir. Beg pardon, sir, but she's a Dutchman. We passed her +coming in this morning. She's their _Hula_." + +"Quite right," said Plough dryly. "I happened to be having a drink +in her wardroom myself at Kiel not two months since. Now, you there, +in the skipper's togs and the German tongue, come up on topside here, +and listen. I'm heading for that German cruiser over yonder, because +if I didn't she'd head for me, and overhaul me in about ten minutes. +(Confound her beastly searchlight.) You're to pose as skipper here, +and pretend this old tub's under a German charter. Stop your engines +when you come within hailing distance, and sing out and ask her if +she is the ship you were sent to bunker. She'll say (or I hope she +will) that she isn't. Then waggle your hands, and ask them if they +can tell you where the henkers the boat you are after, is to be +found. Say you got your instructions by telephone, and the line was +bad. Say you thought the name of the ship that wanted coaling was +the Lieben--there's about a five to one chance she may be here--and +you were to stand on and off across the harbour mouth here till you +found her. You must use your wits, my lad, because, I take it, +you'll be hanged if you're caught, and, anyway, I shall be squatted +down under the lee of the weather-cloth here to attend to you if you +make a hash of it. Grasp all that?" + +"Yes, saire." + +"Then carry on." + +The ruse, to John B. Plough's glee, succeeded faultlessly. No; the +cruiser was fully bunkered. Yes, the Lieben was cruising in company +with her, and was stationed to s'uthward, and was very likely +expecting a collier. Sorry for troubling? Not at all. These +mistakes will happen, and shore telephones are the devil, anyway. + +"In German, now," Lieutenant Plough hissed from under cover of the +weather cloth, "tell your quartermaster to starboard his helm, you +owl, and telegraph the engine-room for full speed ahead." + +The man did this with full Teutonic formalities, and the war steamer +and the collier parted with speed. Once more J.B. Plough turned to +face his lady passenger. + +"Yes," he said testily; "what is it now?" + +"That room you put me in is disgraceful. I lit a match and saw the +photographs on the walls. I never felt so insulted in my life." + +"Well, you're ahead of me, my good woman. I haven't been into the +room, and I haven't seen any photographs; and, if you'll take the tip +from me, you'll go back and not light any more matches, and then you +won't see them either. You can't stay out here on deck, anyway." + +"I won't go back--that's flat. There's another kind of smell in +there--of clothes, and people, and herrings--and it makes me feel +deathly sick. Couldn't I come out if I put on that long oilskin coat +that's hanging in the corner, and the sou'wester? I should look like +a man then." + +"If you tuck up your petticoats as well, and put on a pair of +sea-boots. Madam, this isn't a comic opera. It's war. And colliers +don't bring their women to sea. A hair out of place may easily mean +death for the whole crowd of us. So, if you still insist on butting +in to where you aren't wanted, you know how to dress the part. But I +wish to heaven you'd keep under cover and be sick in private." + +Plough ran the collier on the southerly course in search of _Lieben_ +(which he especially did not wish to find) till he was sure _Hula_ +was not following him, and then turned back on his course for home. +"And that," said he, "puts us through their light cruiser screen. +Another four miles, and we ought to get to where their destroyers are +strung out in front. If only this infernal fog would come down good +and thick in regular North Sea fashion, instead of letting itself get +thin in patches, it's ten to one we'd slip through without being +sighted." + +The chief engineer came to the upper bridge, and saluted Navy +fashion. "Beg pardon, sir, but any time you're going to slow down +and want fog, if you can only give me sixty seconds' warning on ahead +through the voice-tube, I can arrange it." + +"How's that?" + +"We've as cargo good, hard steam coal. For our own bunkers we have +some of the dirtiest sludge ever shot out of a Tyneside coal-drop. +If the firemen are artists, they can make steam with it--if they've +me to look after them. But if it's fired into the furnaces in the +ordinary way, it simply blows straight out of the stack. I can +always have it shovelled in that way if you want a smoke, sir." + +"Good!" said John B. Plough. "That may just save our bacon. Just +you hop below one-time and stand by to do it if I call down a +warning. We may want that smoke inside ten minutes from now." + +They did. The fog on which Plough had been relying, instead of +becoming more solid, grew whispy and thin. Clean alleys of pure air +cut through it here and there, and the coal-boat dodged in and out of +the solid masses of vapour. + +"If only the moon would pop out now," said Lieutenant Plough, "we'd +be lit up like a theatre. According to their own textbooks, they +ought to have six destroyers--or, at any rate, big +torpedo-boats--strung out across here, and, as they're so brand-new +to war, they're hardly likely to make an exception of to-night. +Confound them! I wish they'd let me get home peaceably. I feel +uncommonly out of it as admiral of a collier." + +"_Wir-r-r-umph!_" said a shell hurrying past the coal-boat's bows. + +"Cheer-o!" said Plough. "There she spouts!" and rang off his +engines, "Below there! That the chief? Good! Let's have your worst +class of smoke in the smallest possible time. There's a Dutchman +somewhere slap on top of us, and I want to try a game on him." + +The smoke lingered--hours it seemed to Lieutenant Plough, though in +point of fact it was only fifteen seconds--and the enemy switched on +a searchlight and made the fog opalescent. He could hear the +destroyer nosing this way and that through the thickness, going at a +big pace ahead, then at the full of her speed astern, and on every +slant edging nearer. + +Then, providentially, the fog thickened, and evil-smelling smoke also +began to billow forth from the stack, thick, and glutinous, and +black. "Fore-deck there--Mr. Mate!" Plough hissed out. + +"Aye-aye--sir." + +"Heave up that loco boiler chock-a-block, to your starboard derrick, +sway outboard, and make fast with a hemp stopping on the wire as I +told you. When you hear me whistle, cut." + +A winch clacked and grunted, and a sheave screamed. Plough swore at +the noise, and pulled the string of his syren to drown it. The fog +might clear, or the smoke thin--it was now or never. The destroyer +raced briskly up to where the great steam whistle boomed. + +It was not the smallest use trying the German skipper dodge here. +Destroyers in the outside line do not coal at sea. Lieutenant Plough +sung out to have a Jacob's ladder put over the rail abreast of the +foremast, and waited, leaden whistle in mouth. + +The German destroyer swung up through the murk in a bustle of hurry +and importance. She sheered round with one reversed propeller when +she caught the collier's loom, and ran smartly up alongside. Her men +stood on her deck, armed like pirates, and all ready to board. +"Surrender, you beastly Britisher!" sung out a bearded officer on her +bridge, as the sides of the two ships rasped together. + +Plough blew his whistle; knives cut the stopping of the winch wire, +and the huge steel boiler, weighted to the brim with water, dropped +like a stone on to the flimsy decking of the vessel alongside. It +hit her between her two foremost funnels, and shore through thin +steel plate and angle iron as though they had been so much pie-crust. + +One of her own boilers shot up with a whisk of steam and white-hot +coal. Another boiler followed. Then a magazine created a volcano of +its own, and then the war heads of the deck torpedoes added their +quota to the inferno. + +On the moment of impact Plough had rung for "Full speed" from his own +engines, but the series of explosions had begun and ended before the +ex-naval artificer below had got speed on her. The collier winced +and reeled to the shocks, but the damage she received was practically +nil. All her plates, all her frames were backed with buttresses of +coal. She was packed with coal from floors to deckbeams, and was +about as impervious to shock as a granite pier-head. The exploding +destroyer spurned her away, but did not damage her. + +"If I could own up to sinking that joker," said John B. Plough when +at last the collier drew clear, and was plunging away at her normal +nine knots through the friendly darkness, "the Admiralty would give +me a tin medal. As it is, I guess my pigeon is to sing low. I'm an +awful duffer at writing reports and giving explanations of anything +outside routine----" + +An oilskinned figure tapped him sharply on the arm. "Do you call +that fair?" asked his passenger. + +"I call it jolly smart, if you ask me. There are no Queensberry +rules in this game. It's war--plain, naked war--and war's hell. If +I didn't sink, burn, and destroy an enemy's ship when I got the +chance, the taxpayer who stumps up my wages would grumble. And you +wouldn't like him to do that, would you, madam?" + +The lady shivered. "If it wasn't that I'm absolutely bound to get +home, I wish I'd never come. You must have killed twenty of them." + +"Sixty, I hope," said Plough. + +* * * * * + +They ran into Harwich without further interference, and Lieutenant +John B. Plough went ashore in the boat he had stolen from a stranger +in a German port, without saying good-bye, or asking anybody's leave. +He judged quite rightly that the fat mate would acquire merit for +bringing a valuable steamboat and cargo home out of the jaws of Total +Loss, and did not concern himself about that officer's feelings any +further. + +He was apologetic only to his lady passenger as he handed her out on +to a beach and kicked adrift the rowing-boat that had carried them. + +"Sorry I've had to 'come the quarter-deck' over you once or twice, +madam, but we've been in some tightish places, and they didn't bear +monkeying with." He grinned at her affably all over his red, +clean-shaven face. Women always said he had a most ingratiating +smile. "Come, now, we'll go up to the Railway Hotel and have a good +dinner and a bottle of pop, and I bet we part good friends after all." + +"I am obliged to you," said the lady stiffly, "but I do not dine +alone with young men in the Navy. I have my reputation to think +about just as much as other people. I thank you most heartily for +bringing me home, and you must excuse my getting familiar and +offering you advice when you killed all those poor fellows on that +destroyer. I was rather upset at the time. I wonder if I might ask +one more favour?" + +"Certainly, my----certainly, madam. Ten, if you like." + +She opened her hand-bag, and from it gave him a small pack of cards. +They read: + + ┌────────────────────────────────────────┐ + │ │ + │ MADAME ARTHUR. │ + │ MODES ET ROBES. │ + │ │ + │ Manningham, Millinery │ + │ Bradford. a Specialité. │ + │ │ + └────────────────────────────────────────┘ + + +"If you would distribute those amongst your lady friends, it would be +a great help to me. You may assure anyone you introduce that prices +will be made most reasonable to her throughout the War, if she says +she comes from you." + + + + +VII + +THE LADY KILLER + +The bullet entered the peat wall of the butt with a luscious _plop_. + +Captain Kettle continued to keep his eye on the particular bird he +had singled from the advancing pack of grouse, swung his gun +judiciously ahead of it, and fired. The bird dropped neatly. He got +another behind with his second barrel, marked their position with +empty cartridge cases on the wall of the butt, and congratulated +himself pleasantly on the neat right and left as he reloaded. Then +he turned about and inquired tartly from the spaces of the moor as to +who the devil had the impudence to shoot at him. + +There was no doubt about it being a bullet. In the lamentable event +of being peppered by a neighbour in the next butt, the grouse shooter +generally registers the marks on his person, never on his butt. Also +grouse-butts are more or less in line, and shotgun attacks (however +much they can be explained away) are always on the flank. This was +from some sector of the rear, as the ugly hole in the wet peat +abundantly proved. Further--lady novelists notwithstanding--rifles +are not in common use for the purpose of grouse shooting. + +"Now I wonder," the little mariner mused, "if that was meant for me?" + +The answer came promptly. Another bullet plopped into the butt, and +Captain Kettle felt that he would have to miss the rest of that +drive. He walked round to the rear of the butt, lit himself a fresh +cigar, placed this with its burning end up-wind so that it would emit +a noticeable smoke, and crawled away, gun in hand, on a tour of +reconnaissance. Further _plops_ announced that the stranger was +aiming at the smoke and trying to shoot him through the butt. + +The sound of the shots had not come to him, so he knew the sniper +must be at a good distance. He crawled first to the next butt, which +happened to shelter his host, and made announcement:-- + +"Mr. Carnforth, sir, don't look up, and please go on shooting. Some +blighter in the rear has had the impudence to bombard me with a +rifle, and I'm going back to take down his name and address." + +"Gee!" said Mr. Martin Carnforth, M.P., "that'll be our friend the +spy. He didn't seem to put you off your shooting. That was an +uncommon neat right and left. Bit above your average form with +grouse." + +"I was never able to take up game shooting till I'd left the sea, +sir, and on the farm in Wharfedale we have mostly rabbits. I hope +I'll be back again for lunch, sir, but if I'm not, please don't wait." + +"Can't I come too? The pair of us would have more chance of catching +your pal than you will alone. And after all, it is my moor, and so I +ought to have a say on what's shot on it." + +"Better not, sir. You must keep on remembering that you are a Member +of Parliament and your job is to talk, not to do things. I shall be +back for that luncheon if it can be managed. I saw a steak and +kidney pie put aside for the shooting hut this morning that I want to +see more of." + + +Captain Kettle, however, did not turn up for that pleasant shooting +lunch, and his butt was empty for the rest of the day. Carnforth +parried inquiries from the other guns about his "naval friend," by +suggesting that he had "been called away O.H.M.S. The chap does a +good deal in that line on the quiet, I believe, but for the Lord's +sake don't say I told you so, or he'll bite my head off. You know +what these special service fellows are." + +The sailor by means best known to himself, got back to the house in +time for dinner that night, dressed in five minutes--for a man who +never had much practice, the way he could tie a dress tie bordered on +the miraculous--and came down looking as if he had stepped out of a +bandbox. He played an extremely good knife and fork at dinner, got +outside three-quarters of a bottle '70 port after it, and then +settled down in the billiard room (which is really part of the hall) +within easy range of a box of Carnforth's five-inch Coronas +Colorados. He was smoking the seventh of these when the last of the +other guests thought "bed was the best idea that occurred to him just +then," and Carnforth mentioned that he "thought the beggars would +never go. I'll mix you another whisky and soda. And now kindly tell +me what you've been playing at all the afternoon. I bar a man that +you've asked to shoot who goes and bags all the sport to himself." + +"Well, sir, those peat hags at the back of Cow Ghyll butts weren't +intended for a gentleman of your generous figure to scramble through." + +"You leave my figure alone, you one-legged ruffian. I'll walk you +level from here to Pateley Bridge for a tenner--no, I won't. Go on." + +"There's nothing much to tell. I had a general notion of my sniper's +direction, and set out to work up to l'ooard of him. There was a bit +of a breeze and I thought he would never hear me, and he didn't. He +kept on pegging away at that spot below my cigar smoke, in the hopes +of hitting me in the back through the butt. When I'd got level with +him--and I tell you sir it's cruel hard work on a hot August day +making a passage through those hags----" + +"Even for a man who hasn't a pot belly." + +"For any one, sir. Well, I just worked up to l'ooard, and he spotted +me just as I was within gunshot, and started to lift his rifle." + +"Go on, man. Go on." + +"Oh, I just gave him two barrels of number five. My gun makes a nice +large pattern at seventy yards, and I guess I didn't leave much of +him without a pellet to remind him he'd been taking liberties. He +wore a shooting hat just like yours sir, and a well used burberry." + +"Get on, Captain. You're a rotten hand at telling a yarn. Did you +gather him?" + +"I did not. I just turned tail, and ran away here." + +"You what?" + +"Ran as near like a hare, sir, as an artificial leg would let me. +You see, I gathered from remarks when that hail of shot got home that +he was a 'she.' It's one of the many disabilities of the other sex, +sir, that when they want to swear, and really have cause, they don't +know how to do it efficiently. I'm a modest man, Mr. Carnforth, and +I felt too ashamed of listening to stay there any longer. And, of +course, the lady wouldn't have been hurt really, only stung at +seventy yards, though I once did drop a woodcock with the choke of +that gun at seventy-five." + +"Hum," said Carnforth, "I don't call this business. You discover +that our spy is a woman--which I will grant is a good step in +advance. But you have had her in your hands, and let the creature +go. Theoretically, in both the Services, men have been hanged for +less." + +"Well, sir," said Kettle rather stiffly, "I am neither in the Navy +nor in the Army, and I don't scrap with women. I leave that for you +politicians, sir. I've felt more uncomfortable than you can think, +sir, at the idea of having shot her." + +"Quite regardless of the trifle that for a good hour she was trying +her best to murder you. Highly quixotic, I'm sure. Pity you're not +a bachelor, and could end the tale with the usual wedding-bells. I +suppose, by the way, she was supremely beautiful?" + +"She'd a figure like a pear, and one of the homeliest faces I ever +saw. But that doesn't make her any the less woman, sir, or excuse me +for filling her with shot-corns." + +"Ah," said Carnforth thoughtfully, "I wonder if your lady friend is +also a friend of mine. Pear-shaped figure, and an ugly face you say. +Pince-nez, by any chance?" + +"Plain steel-rimmed spectacles, sir." + +"We're getting warmer. A round pug-nose, and a good flourishing +black moustache, eh?" + +"Her nose might be as you say. As regards the other matter, sir, I +should never dream of noticing such a thing on a lady." + +Mr. Martin Carnforth hit the edge of the billiard-table and hurt his +hand. "I bet a thousand acres of grouse-moor to a keg of sourkraut I +know the lady's name and late address. We're getting into deep +waters. Did you ever come across Hermann Vogelheimer?" + +"I did, sir, half-a-dozen years ago, and wonder I didn't leave my +mark on him." + +"Oh, what was the trouble?" + +"He asked me how much I gave for my K.C.B., the swine." + +"And you got furious, and told him such things weren't bought and +sold in this country?" + +"I don't know how you guessed, Mr. Carnforth, but that is about what +I did say, except that I added he was a dirty German Jew, and told +him pretty accurately how he'd been bred and where he'd go to later." + +"How like you. Well, Captain, he's Sir Hermann Vogelheimer, baronet, +to-day, and on paper a pukka Englishman, in spite of the trifle of +his accent, and if you call him either German or Jew in public he'll +bring an action for libel. I know how much he gave for the title, +because I worked the deal myself, as it happened. Our Party funds +were dead low just then, and something desperate had to be done. We +were past decency at the moment. I remember, when I had to fill in +what the beast had done for the country, the only thing I could find +to his credit was that he had once given a clock to a mechanics' +institute--and I suppressed the detail that he had previously sold +them the building site at an exorbitant profit. + +"Now, this man had a sort of governess-secretary person called +Fräulein Berta Schauer in his household up to the beginning of the +war. Since then she has been living about the country on her own, +with enough money at her command to make her interesting. You quite +take me? She'd no money before the war, or we'll say spent none. +Now she's lots, and is very, very kind to soldiers, military doctors, +and young subalterns in want of a dinner. Incidentally she is so +much like your heroine of the moor, that the coincidence is, to say +the least of it--damn that billiard-table, I've smashed my knuckles +again." + +"We could, of course," suggested Captain Kettle thoughtfully, "haul +this Vogelheimer out of his bed some night, and hang him quietly from +a tree in his garden if you think fit, sir. I suppose it would be no +use giving information to the Government. They'd know he'd parted +with money in the past, and would only bleed him for more, and the +spy business would not be touched." + +Carnforth grinned. "You've a delightfully clear opinion about +politicians, Captain. I wouldn't go so far as to agree with you that +the Government would proceed to blackmail our man if they had the +chance, but I fancy they're mindful of past favours. Anyway, he +isn't interned, and a child can see he ought to be. But, of course, +that's the ordinary rule. We only intern poor Germans, and those who +don't subscribe to our Party funds. Moreover, you are going a bit +too fast. We've no evidence that the immaculate Sir Hermann is +running this spy game, and as he is one of the most capable men in +Great Britain at this minute, it's heavy odds we don't find any +evidence. But if we keep a watchful eye on your shot-pocked Fräulein +Schauer----" + +"You'll excuse me, Mr. Carnforth, sir, but I don't scrap with women, +and I've done that one more damage than I care about already. With +your leave, I'm going to drop the whole business. I'll just take +another cigar with me for before breakfast, and now I'll turn in." + +Carnforth watched his guest as he stumped up the stairs at the other +side of the hall. "Go to sleep by all means for the present, and +I'll get busy. Later, if you're wanted, and the intrusive petticoat +is wafted away from your modest sight, you'll help most efficiently. +I never came across a man who hated Germans--or Dutchmen, as you will +persist in calling them--more efficiently. You might not make a good +minister, but if they had you in the Cabinet you'd have a big value +in killing off the dangerous ones. Um! I hate travelling at night, +but I fancy a fifty--no, it'll be a seventy-mile motor run will have +its uses just now. Nice work for a middle-aged gentleman after a +hard day's grouse shooting. Well, I shall probably breakfast a bit +late, that's all." + + +The apologetic butler who came into Captain Kettle's room at five +o'clock next morning was rather surprised to find any guest in the +house rouse so suddenly into perfect wakefulness. He was unused to +the habits of sailors, but being the complete butler he did not +flicker so much as the eyebrow of surprise. He said with stolid and +perfect courtesy, "The Master telephones, sir, that he would be +obliged if you would meet him at Fordham as soon as you can get +there. It is about eighty miles. If you have any doubt about going, +I was to mention that without your help there will be three ships of +the British Navy sunk within four hours' time. I shall have our big +Napier ready for you, sir, by the time you are dressed." + +"Always pleased to give the Navy a leg up," said the mariner briskly. +"Just hand me that wooden leg out of the portmanteau, will you? No, +not the one I wore yesterday. Now go and get that car. I'll be at +the front door as soon as it is round." + +The big car hurtled out coastwards through the end of the autumn +night, and quickened as dawn made the roads more clear. The driver +flicked out his electrics and turned to his passenger. "If you're +not nervous, Sir Owen, I can open her up a bit now." + +"I am always nervous with these beastly road-engines," Captain Kettle +admitted, "when I'm not conning them myself, but push her along, my +lad. The tune of this car up to now has fitted in with 'Greenland's +Icy Mountains,' and I suppose you'll hit it up now to the air of the +'Turkish Patrol,' and that will spoil the rhythm of some poetry I was +making. But don't mind that. I'm not the man to let pleasure stand +in the way of business." + +They met Carnforth half-a-dozen miles outside Fordham, the big grey +car drawn up at a crossroads inn advertising his whereabouts. It was +six-thirty in the morning, and he was eating ham and eggs and +drinking beer. Also he was in dress clothes, unshaven, and the worse +for wear. + +"You look as if you have been climbing trees, sir," said Captain +Kettle, with all a tidy man's disgust for the dishevelled. + +"It was walls and a fall-pipe, and I've broken all my nails and the +knee of one of my trousers. You needn't turn up your nose at my +frugal meal; it's supper for me, not breakfast. Have some?" + +"Thank you, sir, I think I will. Your man has scared me so with the +pace he's driven, I'm hungry enough to eat two breakfasts. But I +expected to meet you at the coast, sir. Your message mentioned +something about giving a leg up to the Navy." + +"All in good time. I suppose you don't know anything about wireless? +A bit since your day, eh?" + +The little sailor drew himself up stiffly. "I keep myself up to +date, sir. I take in every issue of the _Syren and Shipping_ and the +_Patent Medicine Recorder_ and read through every word of both, +advertisements included. And as it happened, for my last Christmas +holiday, I took a run across the Western Ocean in a boat fitted with +wireless to see how it worked. A Mr. McTodd, a retired sea-going +engineer of my acquaintance, was interested in her as a shareholder, +and gave me every facility. He came too. He----" Captain Kettle +was evidently on the brink of disclosures, but bit them off with a +firm lip. "He and I came home by different boats." + +"Well, there's wireless and wireless, and I fancy the instalment I'm +nosing after isn't the usual sort. I put the Home Office on to an +instalment like it once before. They (after I began to get nasty) +discovered it wasn't their job, and handed me on to the Post Office. +The Post Office went to sleep over it for three weeks, and then when +I roused them by methods I wouldn't like to describe to you, said +they'd taken tests and proved that no wireless messages had been sent +or received from the area under discussion. I didn't believe them. +But they'd wasted two months of valuable time, and when their final +report came, my birds had got frightened and bolted. Now we can't +afford to be hung up like that again. This is business, and one +can't expect business from a Government office." + +"I've known the Board of Trade get busy quick enough, sir," said +Kettle rather bitterly. "Is this wireless you're after some new +patent? + +"I can only guess, but I've a notion it's an improvement on a type +that was talked about in the text-books before the Marconi sort was +heard of." + +"You're rather vague, sir." + +"I am. But I'm open to bet seven years' penal servitude to nothing +I'm right." + +Captain Kettle looked puzzled. "I don't take you, sir." + +"What I'm going to do within the next half-hour--and what you can +chip in at if you like--will be put down as armed burglary of Sir +Hermann Vogelheimer's house, if I'm wrong. If we're right, and save +a nice little squadron of British ships, probably nothing will be +said about the method. We shan't be thanked anyway. Here are a few +more details," said Carnforth, and gave them. "Question is, are you +going to risk coming?" + +Captain Kettle tried to look disturbed and failed. "It seems to me +more than a one-man job, sir, and I think perhaps it would be better +I should come and stand by in case of trouble, especially as you can +guarantee I shan't see Miss Schauer. It would be most embarrassing +to meet that lady with my shot-corns still making her feel sore. +I've brought along that automatic you lent me yesterday, though I +must say my old Hopkins-Allen .380 feels more homelike." + + +At this point unfortunately a gap occurs in history. Captain Kettle +refuses to fill it. Mr. Martin Carnforth, M.P., for sound reasons, I +cannot get at. I suppose the pair of them raided the house of Sir +Hermann Vogelheimer in broad daylight and made that Teutonic baronet +squeal. I say I suppose they did this, because when I suggested it +Captain Kettle surreptitiously licked his lips. But he provided no +details, either for publication or for anything else. As a side +issue, I did get an inkling once of the method Vogelheimer used for +signalling. We were talking of wireless, and I said it was odd that +the heat-ray method had never been developed. + +"That's all you know about it, my lad," Kettle snapped. "Get a +multiple arc with plenty of juice at the back of it, filter out the +light with a screen, and you can send messages down a heat ray that a +telephonic nerve can pick up thirty miles away. That's the way +Vogel----" + +"Who did you say?" + +"No one. But the thing's been done. That you can take from me. +I've seen it." And he then proceeded to give me a precis of his last +week's sermon to the Wharfedale Particular Methodists by way of +changing the subject. + +A gap, as I say, mutilates the sequence, and I can only take up +events again on a particularly unpleasant timber-laden barquentine of +Swedish register somewhere in the North Sea. The unfortunate vessel +advertised herself to the waters at large as a derelict. Her crew +had been driven from her by Germans, and a bomb had done its best to +sink her. But a lading of timber buoyed her up, and she floated +dismantled, bulwarkless, and waterlogged, as a menace to shipping, +and a gossiping spot for gulls. + +In spite of latitude and longitude given, and elaborate calculations +for current drift and wind drift, Captain Kettle spent a whole day +searching the grey rollers of the North Sea before he found her, and +one man had a leg smashed in the subsequent transhipment of the +three-inch gun. + +Where the gun came from I do not know, but suspect Carnforth. Mr. +Martin Carnforth, M.P., had been in the gun-running business before, +as has been recorded, and presumably knew where to procure weapons +when needed, even though officially such a thing was not to be got +for love or money by anyone outside the two Services. Anyway, there +the gun was; the latest thing; firing from a shoulder-piece and +delicately balanced by recoil cylinders; fitted with an ample shield; +and capable, with efficient loading, of getting off twenty unpleasant +shells per minute. Most of the barquentine's deckload had survived +its wartime experiences, and Kettle's first orders were directed to +digging a gunpit out of this. + +When the tender steamed away, there were three of them left besides +himself, to wit, Carnforth and two other grouse-shooters, one a +supercilious barrister, and the other a florid stockbroker, and the +three instinctively dropped under the little sailor's orders. They +tore at the deals till their hands bled, and their wrists were full +of splinters; they sweated at augers; they strained at spanners; they +worked with panting fury till they had got their gun bolted down, +with its slim store of shells laid handy. + +For a minute they stood round, thawing their stiff muscles, and +admiring their work. + +"Filthy life sailors must lead," commented the barrister. + +"By James, you're right," said Captain Kettle, "and they deserve a +sight more consideration than they get." + +"Well," said the stockbroker, "here's hoping there's soon a slump in +submarines; I say, Captain, haven't we earned a drink?" + +The cabin aft was afloat, the forecastle the same, and the galley, a +green-painted wooden box, clamped down to the decks by an iron strap, +was the only place of shelter. A shrewd rain-laden breeze was +blowing from the eastward, and the water-logged derelict behaved like +a half-tide rock. Her four inhabitants were bone-weary, sodden wet, +icily cold. But only two could shelter in the galley at a time, and +that without fire. Captain Kettle ordained that there should be +always two on watch, and he forbade the showing of smoke or any other +ensign of human occupancy. + +The three-inch gun was shrouded from the gaze of the gulls and others +by the tattered and sodden remains of a main-topmast staysail. This +flapped about artistically between wind and water, and would appear +to the inquirer (when one arrived) as the piece of genuine wreckage +it really was. The gunpit and this erratic canvas also gave some +shelter to the officer and man of the watch, but as the North Sea +ebbed and flowed through the floor of the pit, or gushed in (when it +felt inclined) over its edges, the place, as a sentry-box was not +without its inconveniences. + +"I don't mind eating soaked biscuit and sardine," said Carnforth, +"but even my stomach refuses sea-water and whisky. Can't you screw +her round head to wind, somehow, Captain? This wallowing in the +trough is the very devil. Incidentally, it will make me sea-sick +soon." + +"But it looks natural, and that's what we needed. Believe me, sir, +these Dutchmen spot the least thing nowadays that's suspicious. +They're getting the savvy of white men. Mind you don't get a clip on +the head from one of the hanks of that staysail, Mr. Carnforth. +Duck, sir. By James, that one nearly flicked your brains out. You +should take care. You must remember, sir, that if these Dutch +submarines come up, as arranged, you'll be needed presently, and it's +shirking your duty if you get killed beforehand." + +The autumn night wore through, cold, windy, and bitter, but, with a +niggard dawn, the wind eased, and grey pallisades of rain hedged the +derelict into a narrow circus of sullenly rolling water. Gulls mewed +at them from the ruined fore-top. + +Captain Kettle rubbed his wet hands appreciatively. "Perfect +weather, isn't it, Mr. Carnforth? You'd like more sporting shooting, +I know. But with this thickness they'll have to come close so as to +pick up their mark, and we can pot them with our gun like sitting +rabbits. I'm not like you, sir; I'm not out for sport just now; what +I want is to make a big bag of good Germans. The only thing I can't +understand is why this floating wreck should be set out as a +rendezvous. A sailor, if he wanted to make an appointment in the +middle of the North Sea, would just give a latitude and longitude." + +Carnforth chuckled. "But you see neither the eminent Sir Hermann nor +his lady friend that we agree to call Miss Schauer are sailors." + +"You never mentioned, sir," said Kettle disgustedly, "that the lady +was in it." + +"Forgot," said Carnforth, with complete absence of truth. "You're so +shy of petticoats, most eminent Captain, I thought you'd wriggle out +of the job if you knew. Gee! Look! That chap's coming down on top +of us." + +A black Norwegian collier, with stump top-masts, poked her ugly +dray-horse bows out of the grey sea mist, and bore down stolidly and +squarely on to them. The derelict was helpless. There did not seem +a possibility that she could escape destruction. And the chances +were a hundred to one that if she were hit she would scrape the +bottom off the collier and take her to the North Sea floor in convoy. +Even the sea-fowl got scared, and flew away. + +The mountainous bows, yawning wildly to the seas, made for them as if +drawn by a wire, and the nerve of Martin Carnforth, M.P., gave way. +He leapt to his feet and tried to shout a warning. But with a cat's +quickness Kettle's knees were against his shoulder-blades, and +Kettle's cold, wet right hand clapped hard over his mouth, and Martin +Carnforth, M.P., flopped back into the sea-water at the bottom of the +gun-pit. + +The staysail bellied and snapped above them, and the look-out on the +collier (who then for the first time woke up) saw only a timber-laden +derelict, deserted even by the sea-birds. He made swift outcry, and +the mechanism, human and mechanical, on the bridge responded. The +clumsy bows, ducking and curtsying, took a slow sheer to port, and +missed the barquentine's splintering sides by a short fathom. + +The ponderous stern bore in to starboard and grazed the derelict's +quarter. The water from her condenser sluiced along the deck-load. +The popple of her wake set the barquentine dancing like a cork till +she had pulled out through the palings of the rain, and vanished on +the trail of her own inconsiderable affairs. + +"Beg your pardon, sir," said Captain Kettle, getting off his friend's +head. + +"Don't mention it. Gee! Those other two chaps in the galley must +have nerves! They never let up a whimper. I'm getting jumpy. Must +be growing old." + +"The other two gentlemen are both asleep, sir. The thin, superior +one's head had slid off (when I looked in the galley last) on to a +piece of beef that hadn't been fresh for a fortnight, and the +stockbroker must be a Tynesider from the homely way he's snuggled +down amongst the coals. Well, sir, we don't count near squeaks at +sea. There aren't enough log-books made to enter them up. I wish +you'd finish what you were saying about Vogelheimer when that +coal-boat broke you off." + +"The Admiralty have been allowed to pick up an ordinary wireless +which let out that a German cruiser squadron was to rendezvous where +we are now, preparatory to a raid on Scarboro'. It was judged, +rightly enough, that some British ships would be sent to attend to +them. Vogelheimer sent all this news down his own heat-ray wireless +(that we thickheaded British can't tap), and I guess it was picked up +by a German submarine thirty miles out at sea. I'm not sure about +that, you understand; but it was received by somebody, because I +heard it acknowledged myself whilst I was in the room. And then, as +you know, we got spotted, and you had your little interview with +Vogelheimer when he rushed out on to the leads to see who his callers +were. I can guarantee I smashed their wireless most efficiently, +and, though the operator bolted----" + +"The operator, sir?" + +"Well, it was your shot-marked friend. Lord, Captain, you did pepper +her, to judge by the marks! She ran like an animated pear when she +saw me--thought I'd another shot-gun, I suppose. And as I guessed +she was too scared to pull up this side of a hundred miles, I let her +go. Other things were too pressing. And besides, I knew your +sentiments." + +"I don't consider you've treated me fairly in this matter, sir." + +Carnforth grinned. "I haven't. You see, I wanted to use you, and, +knowing your scruples, I just circumnavigated them most +unscrupulously. I've got you out here. British cruisers are +probably coming, though I hope they change their minds or miss their +way, but German submarines are going to turn up within the next hour +or so, for an absolute certainty. We shall probably get scuppered +ourselves before lunch-time, but if we send plenty of Germans before +us into the Shades, I shan't mind that much. It will be a more +decent ending than most Members of Parliament acquire." + +"Yes, sir, quite so, and you and the other two gentlemen may die as +arranged. But, by James! I'm not out in the wet old North Sea to +get killed. You'll see I shall do all that's needful, and get home +again to Lady Kettle as promised to her. If you go into these little +affairs with an appointment with your wife in your pocket-book, when +you've carried them through successfully you keep that appointment, +and go round the garden with her quite pleasantly, and see the roses +that have grown since you've been away, and arrange the date when +you'll dig the potatoes and put them in a pie. There was something +that made me feel a bit like former times, Mr. Carnforth, that I saw +just inside the main companion." + +"What was that?" + +"An accordion, sir--the Old Man's, possibly, or perhaps Mr. Mate's. +It was coming unstuck with the wet, and every other note was dumb. +But it would be very pleasant to squeeze music out of an accordion +again. You see, sir, since we've been prosperous and had the +harmonium in the house, Lady Kettle says accordions are low. She +won't try to play the bigger machine herself, and I can't learn, and +my daughter, Mrs. Hunter, that had such splendid lessons on it from +the master in Skipton, is seldom with us nowadays. So you see, we +get no music except what that little cat from down the dale pumps out +in chapel on Sundays. She always plays the hymns I hate, and when I +try to get her to put through one with a lift on it, she's always pat +with an excuse.---- My great James, sir, stand-by! There's another +steamboat coming--a big fellow and in a hurry, by the sound of his +propeller. Down under the staysail, sir--down under the staysail, I +say--or you'll get another thick ear!" + +It was no black-painted collier this time that bore down upon them, +but a vast steel ship, painted, it seemed, to the very tint of the +rain-mists themselves. She was unsubstantial, and yet solid; a ghost +ship, and yet grinning with guns; carrying no man in open sight, yet +awake enough to train a score of ugly muzzles on the barquentine in +case of accident. + +She was twenty thousand tons of hate embodied in hardened steel, and +she slid in and out of their narrow, rain-swept horizon at the pace +of an ordinary train. Captain Kettle peered at her from under the +flapping edge of the staysail, and tugged perplexedly at his red +torpedo beard. + +"My great James! Mr. Carnforth, what kind of a mess have we here? +That duck's not Dutch any more than she's English." + +"French, she looked to me." + +"French all over. I never saw anything more French in my life. But +what's she doing out here?" + +"Skipper felt he'd like a cod steak for breakfast, so they just +slipped across to the Dogger for an evening's fishing." + +"You've a great imagination, sir. I suppose you need it in +Parliament. But upon my sam, although the explanation's sheer +foolishness, I can't think of a better. Unless----" + +"Well? Unless what?" + +"Nothing, sir." + +"Unless our pear-shaped friend has got another move on her were you +going to say?" + +"I was, as it happened. But I shan't interfere with her further. It +makes me hot, Mr. Carnforth, to think of the damage I've done to that +lady already." + +"Anyway, she's out of our range at the moment. By God, though, if +that woman's had the cleverness to send French ships into the trap as +well as British, she's got some energy, and some tackle to use it +with. She----" + +"Here they are, sir, at last! Slip you forrard to the galley and +rouse up the other two. Keep out of sight going. You must crawl +behind those deals. And keep out of sight when you are there till +you hear me whang off the first shot. It's all in with these +Dutchmen now, and I'm not going to let the swine hit first, if it can +be avoided. But when you hear the bang, run aft to here, all three +of you, for all you're worth. Got that?" + +"Aye, aye, sir," said Martin Carnforth, M.P., and crawled away on the +errand as briskly as his portliness would permit. + +The German submarine came on with her decks just clear of the water, +and her bows nodding over or nosing through the seas. She had a gun +on her foredeck and another aft, and high-booted men stood alertly +beside each, with the water swirling between-whiles up to their +knees. A conning-tower like a wedding-cake decorated her amidships, +with a periscope, and a wireless mast that emitted a pennon of +stinking smoke. Three bearded dirty men occupied the top of the +conning-tower. Captain Kettle, clapped snugly into the +shoulder-piece of his gun, slipped down his sights to point-blank, +and took steady aim at the centre of where that wedding-cake joined +the hull. + +"If they weren't these fancy new kind of Dutchmen," said Captain +Kettle as he pressed home his trigger, "it wouldn't be fair to shoot +them sitting like this. By James, that joker's got it where the +chicken got the axe--right in the neck." + +The 3-inch shell, discharged at some forty yards, distance, tore +through the plating of the conning-tower as though it had been +biscuit-tin, and exploded inside. The conning-tower opened like an +expanding lily. The men on the top of it disappeared into mist. The +men below were involved in what appeared to be a secondary explosion. +The men on the fore and after decks stuck grimly to their guns, and +fired them in the face of death--and fired them without result. + +They had no time to reload; their ship was sinking bodily beneath +them; and into a sea, iridescent with escaping fuel oil, they were +presently swept, together with scalded survivors escaping from below. +Carnforth and his two friends, racing along from the galley to join +Kettle in the gunpit, stopped in their stride, and commenced throwing +deals overboard, with the Englishman's ordinary instinct for saving +life. Then out of the rain-mist whiz-crash came a shell, and +whiz-crash came another, and the wet air was full of hissing +splinters as these exploded amongst the deals. + +"By James, Mr. Carnforth," Kettle called out, "if you don't carry out +my orders, I'll attend to you later. Here's submarine number two +arriving, and I've got to load this gun for myself like a common +deckhand. By James, sir, I'm captain of this packet, and you've got +to remember it. Come away aft here, one-time." + +Carnforth and the barrister obeyed the call. The plump stockbroker +stayed behind, spread out in a limp heap on the derelict's deckload. + +The amateurs loaded briskly and shot well. The professionals +(despite an austere drill) loaded better and shot more accurately. +Moreover, they had two guns to the barquentine's one, and they were +firing at a background that splintered at a touch and spread a +torrent of horror, whilst Kettle was aiming at chilled steel plates. + +The Germans did not miss; the derelict sang with splinters that were +potent for death; but they could not sink her. Captain Kettle, on +his part, did not miss either; but he could not hit a vital part. He +punctured an oil locker on the submarine's ribs, and the sullen North +Sea swell was covered with more iridescence. He cut away the +wireless mast, and the fumes of burnt lubricating oil stank from the +conning-tower level. He swept one of the after-gun crew into space. +But he could not give the submarine a mortal hit. And in the +meanwhile the unsinkable barquentine was disintegrating into planks, +the barrister had collapsed badly hit, and Carnforth was white and +wounded. Captain Kettle cursed his aim, re-lit his cigar whilst a +3-inch shell burst noisily alongside of him, and shot doggedly on. + +Then the unexpected happened. + +All this time the submarine had been fighting him under way, circling +the derelict at some 18 knots, and offering a difficult target. Her +friends in submarine number one, that Carnforth and the others had +tried to succour, were still squattering in the water, but they did +not strike submarine number two as valuable. They were out of action +for the time being, and submarine number two ignored them as though +they had been so many swimming gulls. There was more joy for +submarine number two in killing three Britons in a water-logged +derelict timber ship than in saving fifteen compatriots. And then +with a hiccough her Diesel engines struck work (from some cause +unknown), and she lost way. + +The commanding officer of submarine number two was a man of resource. +He had saved his torpedoes up to now for worthier game, but when the +engine trouble showed itself, and while he had still got steerage +way, he put down his helm. If he could not sink this nuisance of the +seas by shell fire, at least he could blow her into matchwood with a +15-inch torpedo. + +But then by a beautiful shot--Carnforth, who knew Kettle's shooting, +always declared it was a fluke--the little sailor got in first. +Submarine number two was end on, and presented her smallest possible +target, but he hit her just as one of the stern torpedo-tubes was +being fired, and the torpedo exploded--inboard. + +There were no swimmers from submarine number two, and by this time +those from number one had all disappeared under the slimy oil. + + +Captain Kettle knocked the ash from his cigar, and went to look at +his friends. The stockbroker was dead. He wore on his face the +pleased grin of a man who was satisfied with the end of life as he +had seen it. + +The barrister had a carotid artery slit through by a splinter. He, +also, could not last long. Captain Kettle took off his hat. "Any +message, sir?" he asked softly. + +"_Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori._" + +"I beg your pardon, sir. I didn't quite catch?" + +The barrister gave the ghost of a superior smile. "I'm afraid it's +above your head, my man," said he, and dropped back into +unconsciousness. + +Mr. Martin Carnforth, M.P., in the shocking remains of what was once +evening dress, was a more profitable patient. He had been merely +stunned by one of the all-pervading splinters, and North Sea water, +strenuously applied, brought him round. + + +A British destroyer storming up at 30 knots some hours later found a +small man in farmery-looking clothes and a red torpedo beard, a +wounded man who looked like a rag-picker, and two dead on a shattered +derelict barquentine. The farmer was playing "As pants the hart for +cooling streams," on a patched-up accordion with three dumb notes, to +an audience of three kittiwakes and a lesser black-backed gull. + +The destroyer bustled up alongside with much business-like confusion, +took off the humans and continued her way. The Lieutenant-Commander, +who wore a woollen comforter of a startling pink, and a black smudge +on his nose, stared hard at Captain Kettle, and asked his name. + +"I know your face," said the Lieutenant-Commander. "It's like some +one I've seen in a magazine illustration." + +"He is generally known as the Lady killer," said Carnforth. + +The little sailor turned on him with a sudden ferocity. "I'm more +ashamed of what I did to that poor stout woman than I can say, sir, +and if you make a song about it, I'll attend to you in a way you'll +remember for the rest of your natural life." + +"What-ho!" said the Lieutenant-Commander. "Don't let me butt into +anybody's private divorce case. Got enough of my own on hand, +thanks. Come below and have some hot cocoa. You look as cold and +wet as a brace of snipe. Step down into the parlour and hear all the +news. Perhaps you can help to solve the latest problem they've got +ashore: 'Who hanged Sir Hermann Vogelheimer?'" + + + + +VIII + +AN EYE FOR AN EYE + +Captain Kettle stepped out from the little knoll that sheltered him, +and ran rapidly across the open. The German bullets hummed near his +ears, sang by his ribs, hissed past his legs, and spat up fountains +of dust from the ground below, but he went steadfastly on to where +the man was writhing and squirming in the barbed wire, and with +brisk, capable fingers disentangled him. + +The man said, "Go away, you damned fool. I'm done for." + +"If you speak to me like that, you son of a brick," returned the +little sailor, "I will stamp the tripes out of you. Say 'Sir' when +you address me. And lift up your starboard elbow. I've got all the +rest clear now. Will it hurt you if I lift you by your left arm?" + +"I'd rather you left me alone. I'm done in. I'm shot through the +backbone. Thanks all the same." + +"H'up you go now," said Kettle, "and mind don't knock off my hat, +because it's the only one I've got out here, and I have them built at +Scott's, and can't buy another nearer. Anyway, I can't in decency +leave you out there hung up in that fencing wire for those Dutch +swine to plug at. It gives them ideas above their station." + +"It's jolly decent of you," said the soldier faintly as Kettle +lowered him gently down on the short turf behind the knoll, "but +you've wasted your wind. I'm a goner." + +"If I'd a bottle of Horner's Perfect Cure with me, I'd make you as +fit as French. Horner's has cured worse cases than yours. As it is, +I'm afraid, my lad, you'll have to wait till I can get one of those +regulation doctors to come and patch you up." + +"If you could fix me a drink I'd remember you later on. It's the +very devil this thirst." + +"I know the feeling," said Kettle. "I've been hit myself. You shall +have something wet if it can be got. I'll just put this other +fellow's coat under your head--so. He's got no further use for it. +Now take a grip on your nerves and expect me back here in +twenty-eight minutes. I've got another man to see. But when I get +back you can build on my having some liquor of sorts in my pocket, if +it's only cold tea. Apologize in advance, my lad, if I can't bring +you anything better than cold tea." + +"You're a good sort," said the soldier faintly, "I won't forget, +now--or later. So long. Keep away from these pellets." + +Captain Kettle rose up from the man's side, brushed the mud from his +knees, made himself as spruce as the occasion would allow, and worked +his way rearwards to the ruined brewery where Monsieur Joseph Mumm +had arranged to meet him with the cinematograph camera. + +There was, however, no Monsieur Joseph, and in his place lolled an +extremely dirty British officer in khaki, with red tabs on his +collar. The officer was smoking a pipe that gurgled, and was adding +artistic touches to a map of his own production. + +"Hullo," said the officer, "who the devil are you? How's the pig +trade?" + +The sailor introduced himself formally and produced papers. + +"Come to take photographs of Belgium to annoy William with, have you? +Well, so far as I am concerned, and especially if you can give me a +box of matches, you may go along and prosper. I'm only a gilded +subaltern of the staff and I am too busy with my own job here to find +time to run you in. But if you go on long enough you'll come across +some officer who'll either hang you out of hand or pack you off home +again, papers or no papers. You look too much the British farmer to +be quite unnoticeable in this dear country. Isn't there a grand +smell of beer in this ruin? There's not a drop left though. I've +looked." + +"I came to meet a party here, sir, a Belgian named Mumm. Have you +seen him by any chance?" + +"If he was a littlish fellow with a pale face, and hump shoulders, +and a club foot, who carried an infernal machine with a handle to it, +I did. Lord, I do itch. Haven't got any insect powder by any +chance, have you?" + +"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm travelling light at present. It was Mumm +you saw. Did he leave any message?" + +"Well, as you seem to be the nobleman he expected, you may as well +have it. He returns anon. I'm not much good at Chochtaw, but as far +as I could gather from his rapid conversation, he's gone to fetch his +wife and bring her back here." + +"James!" said Kettle nervously. "His wife! I didn't know he had +one. I don't like this." + +"Cheer up," said the subaltern, cocking his head and admiring his map +work, "and don't fear the worst. You haven't seen the lady yet. She +may even be good-looking. You can never tell what will marry which. +During your recent stroll through that barbed wire in front, did you +happen to notice what gauge it was, or must I go out and see?" + +"I'm afraid I don't carry an accurate wire gauge in my eye, sir. But +I've got an errand out there as soon as I've found something to +drink, and I'll bring you back a sample." + +"If you don't look out," said the staff officer thoughtfully, "your +promising young career will be cut short if you go gadding about in +this health resort. Have you been hit already by any chance? I +noticed you limped when you came in." + +"That was on account of my wooden leg, sir." + +"Oh, sorry. Didn't know I was dipping into domestic secrets. If you +want a drink, there's my flask. It's filthy, but it's wet. It's +made of some patent tabloids that my favourite aunt sends me, and is +guaranteed, I believe, to keep off malarial fever, ingrowing +toe-nails, and that tired feeling. Here, I say, I offered you a +swig. I didn't ask you to walk off with the bally flask." + +Captain Kettle worked his way back to the wounded man with so much +care that he was only shot at once. Night was closing down, lurid +with afterglow, icy with wind from the North and East. + +Guns growled in a distant ring. Bullets from nowhere spat and +whinnied, and occasionally one which had achieved a ricochet went +past with a _whoop, whoop, whishy_! Into the No-man's-land where the +morning's action had taken place, two armies shot with indiscriminate +hate. + +The sailor found his man, and handed the flask. He had to put his +arm behind the man's shoulder and lift him before he could drink. + +"I say, squire, that's awfully good of you. Rum tipple, too, but I +suppose my taste's out of order. I've had a pretty thick day ... and +now I'm going to see the chap who does sentry-go ... in the Place +Beyond. And that isn't a joke, because ... there ... He is." + +He pulled himself half erect with a grinding jerk, and brought his +hand up to the salute, and answered an unseen inquisitor. + +"One of the English, Sir.... A bad record perhaps.... But--I tried +to do my job." + +Then he dropped back and slowly stiffened, and Captain Kettle took +off his hat. + + +In the meanwhile Monsieur Joseph Mumm of Louvain was having trouble +with his wife. Madame Joseph, who always prided herself on being +_bien chaussée_, flatly declined to run. Indeed in her absurd +high-heeled shoes running was an impossibility, but she had not the +honesty to admit this. She said running was undignified, and Joseph +should have told her earlier that the unspeakable Bosches were so +near, and that he had mismanaged things as usual, and how she could +have brought herself to marry such a man was more than she could then +imagine. + +Joseph, however, loved her, and refused to be ruffled. + +They came at last to the battered brewery, and were welcomed by the +war-worn subaltern. + +"Hullo, Joseph," said the subaltern in his best English, "so here you +are again as bright and bonny as ever, and no holes in you? And this +is Madame? I told our friend, the agriculturist, she'd turn out to +be a beauty." + +"No spik Englisch." + +"I know you don't, my tulip, or I wouldn't be so free with my +compliments. Curse this pipe! Now I wish you'd either skin out of +here or get to cover. Savvy? _Lyo doggo_! Or else some energetic +Bosch gunner will spot us, and turn on the frightfulness, and that +always makes me nervous. Madame, I'm sure you have your reasons for +strafering Joseph, and giving me the glad eye. But I've a girl of my +own at home, and another out here, and I can't be true to a third. +It's beginning to look as if our friend the nobleman who stole my +flask isn't coming back. You never can bet on your life insurance in +these stirring times. But if he does, you turn your eyes on to him. +He's the little man for the ladies, I bet a pot of jam. And by the +Lord, here he is, and none the worse." + +Captain Kettle took off his hat with stiffness and looked annoyed. + +"Cheer up, Sir Owen," said the subaltern pleasantly. "Belgium +mourns, but Madame's got a smile left, and I told her not to waste +them on me. She was to save all up for you." + +"I'd wring your neck for twopence," Kettle snapped. + +"I don't think you could," said the subaltern with a sigh. "Many +heroes have tried--and alas, failed. It was owing to their failures +that the Cambridge Rugger Captain, a man I disliked, was compelled to +give me my blue as a forward. Here! Get to ground quick. Shell +coming." + +Thereafter for the space of forty-five minutes high explosive shells +sang through the night and smashed the remains of the brewery to +dust, and exploding shrapnel spat over it spitefully. Captain Kettle +coughed when lyddite vapour mixed itself with his cigar smoke, and +talked rabbit shooting with the subaltern. Madame Joseph ogled +Kettle. And poor Joseph winced at each shock of the exploding +shells, and screamed at the louder ones. He was not cast in a heroic +mould. And he loathed himself for appearing as a poltroon under the +eyes of his wife, whom he loved. + +"I suppose by the way," said the subaltern, "you didn't come out here +for the mere sport of the thing and to take photographs?" + +"No, sir," said the little sailor. "I've a contract on to find +Belgian mechanics, and ship them out of the country, to make shells +in a works at home. The men I was after lived in that little town +where you were scrapping this morning and I couldn't find any of them +left. Mr. Mumm's cinematographing scheme was, so to say, a +by-product. I've always had my knife into the German Emperor ever +since that telegram he sent about Dr. Jameson, the interfering swine. +And I'd a notion Mr. Mumm could find me mechanics, though I had only +his word for it. Hullo the shelling's stopped." + +"Then I'll give up whistling, 'Wait till the clouds roll by, mother,' +and toddle off home. I'd ask you to our mess, Sir Owen, but if our +Old Man spotted you it would be home, sweet home, for yours by the +next train. However, I dare say we shall meet in England sometime. +So long." + +"A pleasant young man that," mused the sailor. "I wonder what his +name was." And then he turned to disentangle the hands of Madame +Joseph, which had clasped themselves affectionately on his shoulder. + +"It makes dark, now," she whispered, "and Joseph does not count. You +will protect me? You are a man." + +"A married man, Madame, and don't you ever forget it. Take Joseph's +arm, please, and we will go to the village over to the sou' west +there, and see if we can't find a _café_ that serves dinner. Joseph, +I want you to remember that I give you twenty-five francs a head for +all Belgian fitters and turners you introduce me to that will come +over to England and earn big wages making shells." + +"I know twenty," said Joseph eagerly. "Give me twenty francs each, +and they are yours." + +"Twenty-five I said, and I pay when the goods are delivered--and +shipped--and not before. But if a twenty-franc note on account will +ease the situation, it is yours." + +"Monsieur," said Joseph Mumm ecstatically, and Captain Kettle, very +much to his disgust, found himself kissed. "Monsieur, till now I +have never met you. I salute you as the saviour of Madame." + +"Better take two twenties whilst you are about it," said Kettle, +edging away. "No, Madame, Madame, I say no. You need not thank me +in the least. It is an entirely business proposition, as you will +understand when I tell you there is an English M.P. at the back of +it." + +Madame replied with a gesture. "You give money to that? _Pzzt!_ He +will merely spend it on drugs, and me, I shall trudge as usual. For +me is there now ever a taxi-automobile? _Pas!_" + +Later in the evening, in a dishevelled town just outside the German +lines, Kettle saw the truth of this charge. Joseph bought drugs, +small white tabloids of unknown composition, made solution, inhaled +this into a tarnished syringe, and made injection into a lean and +spotted forearm. Till then he had been a worm, though always (be it +understood) the devout lover of Madame. But with the drug in his +veins he was the hero of chivalric times, Madame's adorer, and her +very sure guard. And the odd thing (to Kettle's mind) was that +Madame seemed to prefer him in this exalted state. + + +But all this, as Captain Kettle kept on reminding himself, was not +business. He had come out to Belgium for skilled mechanics, having +promised Mr. Martin Carnforth, M.P., that if such still remained +alive he would bring them back with him to England, if necessary by +the hair of their heads, and in spite of the Kaiser William's teeth. +And so far he had shipped but three, and doubted if they would arrive. + +"Munitions," Carnforth, M.P., had said, "munitions, chiefly in the +way of shells, are what we want, and when you hear my +fellow-politicians bellowing that we have plenty, don't you believe +them. They are merely trying to hide their own inefficiency and keep +their own salaries going. I've got an empty bay at my Works, and a +lot of lathes, but the British mechanic is either not to be got or +too big for his boots when you've found him. The decent ones are all +gone to the war, and I've no use for the wasters who might offer. +But if you can find me Belgians who both can work and will work, I +will put them in the way of earning five pounds a week per head." + +Captain Kettle carried with him as personal luggage a parcel of +circulars setting forth in two foreign tongues the more attractive of +these points, and had distributed them lavishly under the muzzles of +German rifles, but so far mainly with poor results. The Belgian +mechanic was not at the moment receptive of new ideas, as was perhaps +natural. Conceive the British mechanic, with Germans in Britain, +asked by some alien whom he understood imperfectly, to go overseas to +a land where the working man eats horse for preference. One can +understand the Belgian reluctance. + +But with a brain brightened by his drug, Monsieur Joseph Mumm +developed unexpected powers. He teemed with suggestions, and as they +sat at dinner hissed them out in true conspirator's style. Most of +them were unpractical, many were fantastic, but some had glimmerings +of sense. + +"Do not heed him," said Madame. "He does not know about these +mechanics. He is a professional man, my husband, though for the +moment he has a pretty wit. _Pas?_" + +"Don't run him down, ma'am. He's some remarkable sound ideas, but I +wish he'd speak French or English or one of God's languages instead +of switching off into Walloon, or Flemish, or German, or whatever it +is. Look here, Joseph, you say these engineers have their Lodge. +What do you mean? Masonic?" + +Again came the whirl of words. + +"Well, call it Guild, or Trades Union, or something like that. Where +is it, and have you the pass-word? Be quick. By the sound of the +firing the Germans will be here by morning." + +Joseph at that moment of exaltation had everything--certainly such a +trifle as entrance to a guild of base mechanics. When could they go? +This moment or sooner. He leaped up and fled into the night, and +Kettle, after bows to Madame, limped after him. + +In due time they came to the secret place of assembly, which, after +all, had little of secrecy about it. The mechanics of the little +business town met in a cellar amongst wine casks. They stood about +on a blue floor, and gesticulated in an atmosphere rich with tannins +and ethers. It was rather a jarring change from the mingled smell of +wood-smoke and garlic Captain Kettle had left at the restaurant, and +he lit a damp, black Canary cigar to counter-balance it, whilst +Joseph Mumm with much florid phrase explained him. + +And then came interruptions. From the street above and without there +came the clattering of iron-shod hoofs, the crackle of shots, the +shrill screams of hurt men, and now and again the more dreadful +shriek from a woman or child. + +One of the men peeped from the head of the stairway and came back +with a scared face. "Uhlans!" said he. "The rest of the Bosches +will follow. Our troops must have fallen back. They always do fall +back." + +"If you ducks had accepted my offer to go to England," Captain Kettle +told them, "instead of wearing yourselves out with oratory, we might +have been well on the way out of this by now. As it is, the best +thing to do for the moment is to shut that door and sit tight. Those +parties on horse-back are out to murder somebody, and with them it's +first come first killed. I don't want you to be too pushing. You +can be useful." + +The men listened and shivered. They were mechanics, not fighters, +and this truculent little Islander evidently knew what he was talking +about. He looked a fighter, every inch of him, and if he advised +caution there was evidently some reason for it. + +"But you," said Kettle, turning to Joseph, "you had better slip out +and look after your wife." + +Joseph shivered. The drug had died out in him and he was no longer +the hero. He had a headache, he was shaken, he was unashamedly +afraid. + +"Oh, well, just as you like," said the sailor with contempt. "I'd go +myself if I was free. But I'm under orders now, and my owner comes +first. I've got to get these mechanics shipped across to a town in +the Midlands, and with the beastly Germans buzzing about one's ears +it's going to be a tougher job than I reckoned on. Your friends here +have the nerves of sheep." + +The mechanics, with the horrors of the neighbouring Belgian towns +fresh upon them, were hard to move. Their country had been crushed +with Satanic efficiency. Terror stalked through it raw-headed. They +had not read the details in the columns of a censored newspaper. The +full beastly story had been chattered out to them by wild-eyed, +shivering survivors. Small wonder they were cowed. + +Most had others besides themselves to think about--wives, mothers, +daughters--and the Huns were raging through the town and carrying out +their full programme of frightfulness whilst they, able-bodied men +though they were, cowered in the wine merchant's cellar, impotent to +help or resist. + +"To hear you ducks talk," said Captain Kettle disgustedly, "one would +believe you don't want to do anything, or say anything, or think +anything that'll hurt the Emperor of Germany's feelings. Now, I'd +cheerfully give my wooden leg just for the luxury of having him here +in this room for two minutes so that I might pull his nose. And it +is an American limb that cost, with spares, £30. Great James! Have +none of you got a tail to wag? The Germans are playing Hell's +delight with your women and kids this minute, and the most you can +say is 'So mote it be.' Can't some of you do a bit of killing in +your turn? Get out of here. Be dangerous. Go for every German you +see with your finger-nails and your teeth if you've nothing better, +and you'll find the German will run. Then gather your women and come +back here. I'll do the rest." + +"What, you'll take our wives too? You never said that before." + +"Then, by James! I say it now. Now then, out with you! All that +are back here with their women in two hours' time I will take out of +this filthy Belgium to a place where the Huns can't get." + +The mechanics sullenly shouldered their way out through the cellar +door with Kettle's tongue lashing them from behind, and then from the +darkness of a distant corner came the frightened moan of M. Joseph +Mumm. + +The little mariner stalked across, put fingers on the humpback's +collar, and shook him. "If you think a kicking will do you good, +just mention it." + +"Give me a little money. I must have money. It is to buy film with. +You said you wanted cinematograph pictures and I cannot take them +without film, negative film, you understand, and that will cost +money. Please----" + +"Shut up! You're after drugs again, and you've a skinful of those +already. Now clear out of this one-time, and go and hunt up your +wife. I'll come with you till you find her, in case you forget +between now and then what your errand is--you miserable bag of +shivers!" + +Out into the street they went, lit now by burning houses, and horrid +with the noises of a sack. + +"My God! we shall be seen in all this glare," said poor Joseph. + +"Then put back your shoulders and walk as if you owned the town. +These devils won't touch a man with a stiff upper lip if they can +find another with his knees twittering." + +"_Dieu de Dieu!_ but hear the screams!" + +"There are too many screams for my taste," said the sailor acidly. +"Your friends are dying like sheep, Joseph, when if they'd the sense +they might die like dogs, and pull some of these other dogs down with +them. If you'll take the tip from me, you'll get your teeth picked +clean and ready for biting. Where did you say Mrs. Joseph was?" + +"At the _café_ where we dined." + +"Then go along and collect her, and bring her to the Lodge. I'd +better not come with you as I expect I look a bit English, and might +bring down attention. But I will hang about, board and board, in the +offing, and bear a hand if you look like needing one. Mind your +head!" + +A German soldier, red with recent murder, and with blood-lust glaring +from his eyes, ran at them from a doorway. Joseph Mumm covered his +face, moaned, and cowered up against the wall. Captain Kettle +attracted the man's charge with a yell, then dodged, and tripped him +as he passed. Thereafter he jumped upon the man's back, and dirked +him heartily with his own bayonet.... + + +Joseph Mumm found himself shaken viciously by a fierce-faced man with +a red torpedo beard, in pickle-haube and long grey-green overcoat. +"By James! Do you dare to make me give an order twice? I told you +to be off and collect your wife. Go! D'ye hear me! Go, you swine!" + +The humpback hobbled off, and Kettle with Mauser at the trail, +followed at a discreet distance. Around them the sack continued, and +horror abounded. Another soldier danced up drunk, with rifle slung +over his shoulder, and cigar boxes in his arms. All the boxes except +two he dropped to the cobbles, and then opening those he had left, he +solemnly emptied the tobacco rolls over Captain Kettle's helmet. + +Now the little sailor, as has been shown in these memoirs, was the +last person in the world to take liberties with, and that German +soldier had a narrower escape from being smitten violently with a +Mauser butt than he probably suspects to this day. But it flashed +upon Captain Kettle that here was a certificate for his disguise; the +German had taken him for another German; and, in view of what was to +come, this perfect make-up was necessary. But at the same time, as +head of the Wharfedale Particular Methodists, he felt very keenly the +degradation of being an actor. He followed after M. Mumm, telling +himself that bundle of terror little knew what insults his protector +was forced to put up with. + +Joseph Mumm tottered in between the gaily lit green-painted tubs of +shrubs which advertised the front of the _café_, at a point where two +streams of German officers made ingress and egress. Captain Sir Owen +Kettle, with a start, remembered that a German private should never +breathe the air hallowed by his officer, and (using his new-found +caution) cut into a side street, and worked his way round to the back +of the _café_, where he remembered a side window. + +But when he put his face to the pane and peered round the side of the +blind, the scene dished up through that narrow slit staggered even +his steel nerve. The place was full of German officers, many of them +roaring with drink. One, in a chair, struck with spurred heels at a +piano's keyboard; two for a bet were shooting at the bottles in the +bar with other bottles; Belgian corpses lay on the floor, and the men +of Kultur kicked them as they passed; Belgian women were there being +vilely ill-treated; a stout, struggling priest, held between four +officers, was having his bare feet grilled at a stove. + +At one side of the ruined _café_ lay Madame Mumm, dead.... There was +no doubt as to how she had died.... Facing a group of three of the +soberer officers, Joseph, who had loved her, with light laugh and +humorous gesture, was giving information about the little town. He +was making no attempt to avenge his wife. He was merely being a +traitor. + +Captain Kettle was a man with a strong stomach, but he was nearly +sick then. "My Great James!" he muttered. "And they hate the +English a thousand times worse than they hate these poor ducks. I +suppose we've Josephs at home, too. What would the swine do if they +got to England? There's only one way of taming them now, and that's +by killing them off. Well, I have no time for frills like cleaning +up Germany just now. I must get back to my job." + +Now, Kettle was under no illusions about the capabilities of the +members of the Mechanics' Lodge. Turners and fitters they might be; +fighting men they were not; and he had a shrewd idea that truth and +faith were not in them. When he made his offer to transport them and +their women to British soil, he had a plan already matured in his +mind, but did not tell it, because of a very reasonable fear of +informers. + +There was a chemical works near the Lodge-room, and alongside in the +road, awaiting erection, was a large iron vat, made from a Lancashire +boiler with its flues and tubes removed. The vat was perched on a +broad-wheeled trolley, and had a manhole at its top, and another, +with door lying near, at its lower edge. Coupled to the fore-end of +the trolley was a lusty traction engine, deserted certainly, but +trickling steam. Here was a car in which, packed close, he reckoned +he could transport fifty people to the Belgian frontier. + +The question of a driver worried him. Amongst the members of the +Mechanics' Lodge the odds were heavy on finding at least one man who +could handle a road locomotive. But would that man have nerve? This +was an essential qualification. The drive from the sacked town to +the Dutch frontier was not going to be, he plainly foresaw, a simple +trip to suit a nervous man. At a pinch he could drive himself, but +another man as guard would be desperately needed, and he had a +profound distrust for these Belgians. The lamentable example of +Joseph Mumm was still hot within him. + +At this stage of doubt then he ran into another German soldier round +the corner of a block, who cursed him in a language which was not +German, and presented a prompt bayonet to hamper his further advance. + +"If it wasn't for that spiked hat," said Kettle warily, "I should say +you were a gentleman I met not very long ago near a beer-mill." + +"By Gad! It's my pal the pig-dealer! D'ye happen to have matches on +you? I found a feather to clean out my pipe, and now I haven't a +light. I say, worthy knight, do you know you are on the wrong side +of the fence, and are liable to be hung on sight if the Bosches clap +eyes on you? You really shouldn't do these sort of things at your +time of life." + +"Can you drive a traction engine?" + +"It's rather changing the subject, but I can. It happens I'm a +sapper, and that was part of my ABC. Nobody ever recognizes my true +worth. Even the girls I'm engaged to don't appreciate the treasure +they've snapped up. And nobody ever supplies me with matches. But +why a traction engine, noble stranger? You may want to pull a +travelling circus round this benighted country, with brass band +attachment, but my humble ambition is to sneak away to my nice wet +dug-out as quietly as possible." + +Captain Kettle's fingers itched. He had a thousand wishes to catch +this big casual youngster by the collar and shake the foolishness out +of him. But by an effort he restrained himself, and spoke instead. +His tone was acidulated, but his explanations were clear. + +The staff subaltern scratched his head. "Seems to me, Sir Owen, that +if I don't get scuppered over this little entertainment of yours, +it's likely to cost me my commission. My immediate boss is very keen +on his young men attending to their own particular jobs, and not +getting switched off on to side tracks. He broke a man only last +week for slipping off for a day's snipe-shooting. What he'd say if +he caught me philandering after the beauty and fashion of Belgium +doesn't bear even thinking about. Is Madame Joseph one of this +troupe, by any chance, that you're personally conducting?" + +In ten words the sailor told of Madame Joseph's fate and Joseph's +treachery. + +The tall subaltern blew through his bubbling pipe and put it in his +pocket. "That puts the hat on it. That decent little woman! I +always said those chaps weren't fit to have commissions. They aren't +gentlemen. They don't know how to behave like gentlemen, and will +never learn. Well, I'll come in. And is that your traction-engine? +She's number-one top-size. Well, the Lord grant there are plenty of +horse-troughs on the way. With that grate-area she'll hanker after +liquor like the Bishop of Sodor and Man." + +The subaltern tried his water, peered into the firebox, raked and +coaled. Captain Kettle watched him with an approving eye. + +"You seem to know your job." + +"I can't help it. They turn us out so perfect from Woolwich we're +almost inhuman. H'm! This caravan compounds when she gets going, +but starts out on full steam for both cylinders. I wonder which +gadgett.... Yes, sir, I beg pardon?" + +"I said how long before you will have enough head of steam to pull +out of here?" + +"I must fill my water-tank first at the hydrant there. Call that +eight minutes. You can up-anchor and off in half-an-hour, if that +will do?" + +"Right. Don't get killed whilst I'm away." + + +Now the members of the Mechanics' Lodge were desperate enough, and +had terror put into them, heart and soul, by the sack of their town, +as the invaders intended. But they nearly drove Captain Kettle +desperate before they could be brought to see the feasibleness of his +plan. They talked, and they screeched, and they supplicated; they +appealed to heaven, and they openly wept; and their women did all +these things, and more. + +At last Kettle got to the far end of both his politeness and his +patience. If he could not quell their oratory with his tongue, he +must try more primitive means. + +"Yes," he said, when at last he had got them quiet and had put his +crude argument back into his pocket, "the beginning of discipline is +learning to wait till your betters speak first. I'm sorry to have to +pull a gun before you ladies, but if you'd known my shooting, you +need not have been scared of being hit. I should have bagged a +husband every shot, and there's none of them would have been much +loss. Now then, stand fast where you are those that are coming to +Holland with me, and fall out there between those two casks those who +funk it." + +Again there was the buzz of talk, and the whirl of gesticulation; but +the compelling voice once more brought silence: "I give you thirty +seconds to decide." + +That seemed to crisp the argument. Four men--smallish, white-faced +men they were--and no women, separated themselves from the main +group, and stood between the casks. + +"Ah!" said Kettle, "and as soon as we have got nicely under way +you'll go and try to curry favour by telling. That right, you +others?" + +They sent up a yell of assent. + +"Well, don't shout it. You're so boisterous. You must tone down +before you get to England, or people will stare at you. I commend to +you your four friends between the claret casks. Take them with you, +and keep them quiet. If they won't keep quiet, wring their necks. +If you fail in that, remember it is your necks that will pay. Now +then, move ahead to the chemical works, and if any one makes so much +as a whimper, recollect I will deal with him." + +The loading took time. There was only the one manhole available as +entrance-way to the boiler's dismantled interior, and for some of the +ladies it was a tight fit. However, pressure, moral and physical, +helped things along, and when all were inboard, Captain Kettle and +the staff subaltern left them to sort themselves, and lifted the +heavy iron manhole door into place and nutted it home. + +"That," said Kettle, "will keep the Bosches out and our beauties in." + +"Lord! won't they be fruity inside? May I go ahead now? By the way +my boiler's blowing off, I'm afraid she's getting so full of steam +she may want to leave us for a home in the sky. The old bird's got a +whacking big grate-area." + +The traction-engine tugged at its spring draw-bar, and, with the big +boiler on its broad-wheeled trolley rattling behind, roared out +northwards over the cobbles. + +Uhlans galloped past them with questing lances; a burning house +dropped flakes of fire on them as they lumbered past; and cordon +after cordon of blood-lusting soldiery, driving the people of the +suburbs into the central slaughter-ground of the market-place, opened +out and let them pass. + +A motor-car would have been stopped, a horsed vehicle would have had +no chance of passage, but who was going to interfere with a +traction-engine driven by two German soldiers, with a huge, empty +boiler clamouring behind its noisy heels at exorbitant speed? + +There were no instructions for such an apparition as this, and, +anyway, it was making such an infernal din that no one could make its +custodians hear. + +Captain Kettle reached over and bawled in his companion's ear: +"You'll have the whole concern tumbling to bits if you push on at +this pace." + +"Probably. But Lord, man, can't I drive?" + +The German Army is organized down to the last decimal. The German +troops they met solemnly goose-stepping towards France would have +known how to deal with foot, horse, or guns, with spies in every +shape, with an invasion of aeroplanes, howitzer shells, or +Senegambian sharpshooters. But Potsdam had not contemplated Belgian +civilians leaving their country in a boiler, and had made no +provision for the case. To the troops no Belgians showed through the +boiler's skin, and the traction engine drivers (in German uniform) +were evidently and unashamedly in a desperate hurry. Here, the +troops thought, was obviously a sudden order of the Most Highest. + +Only one attempt was made to stop its triumphant retreat, and that +was on the Belgian side of the Dutch border. Men spread out, calling +and bellowing. A gate was slammed and shut. A trumpet squealed, and +a troop of horse answered it. But the car of Juggernaut was not a +thing to stop. Juggernaut splashed aside the horse, and sailed +through the gate, and chain, and men, and everything else that stood +in its clanking path, and from its head there gushed a sudden +efflorescence of gesticulating Belgian men and shrilling Belgian +dames, who called down curses on the invaders of the land they had +left behind. + +"Well, I wish you joy of your pals," said the subaltern, slowing up +by the Dutch Customs House. "I bet I've burned out this boiler. The +old dear hasn't shown water in her gauge for a good half-hour.... +Yes? Oh, no, Mr. Douanier, I am not the skipper, nor, thank the +Lord, am I German. My friend here is in command, and will pay your +import duty. He isn't a German either, although he looks it. He's a +Britisher, too, and he's a pig-dealer of high descent when he's at +home." + +But here, of all ludicrous places, a hitch occurred. Certainly there +was a tariff for importing "one traction engine (damaged) and one +Lancashire boiler (dismantled)" into Holland, but the goods were so +unusual that the official in charge regretted that he would have to +apply to headquarters for instructions. Presumably, he did so apply, +but the Dutchman is not swift to move, especially if there is no +money to give him impetus. So Kettle by means of a shipping agent +got his Belgian mechanics and their womenkind started off _en route_ +for Mr. Carnforth's Works in the Midlands, and smoked Dutch cigars to +the accompaniment of the subaltern's unclean pipe at a spruce little +tavern just inside the border. Between whiles they passed the time +of day with the Germans, who were mending the smashed Belgian gate on +the other side of the frontier line beside their white-walled Custom +House. + + +Then came the film. It was handed in mysteriously, and Kettle often +wondered afterwards whether Joseph was not his own messenger. But +the little humpback never appeared. The subaltern with the unclean +pipe--whose name he never learned--was the man who found out its +points. + +Captain Kettle, as became the founder of the Wharfedale Particular +Methodists, made a point of never entering a theatre, and included +picture halls under this ban. The subaltern was an expert in both. +The subaltern also, as became a British officer and a sapper, knew +how to procure a cinematograph projector, with narrow-angle lens for +a long throw, and how to secure light, and how to work it. He did +all these things that same night after dinner, setting up his machine +on the Dutch side of the border, wiring his arc-lamp from the tavern, +and using the white-plastered wall of the Belgian Customs House over +the frontier as screen. Dutchmen and Germans formed the audience. + +The film sounds flat in scenario form after the real thing. You must +go and see it for yourself. + +It starts with the exterior of the _café_ before and after the sack. +(Joseph must have cut out the first of these from an old negative +taken in happier days.) Then an interior (badly lit) showing German +officers prone in all directions. A title explains that they were +"_Drugged ready to receive punishment._" + +Then there is a pretty forest glade into which Madame Mumm presently +"fades in." She is dead, and laid out reverently. Then by a simple +"stop-film" trick, German officers appear one by one against each of +the trees that surround the little clearing. + +They are all free of their drug now, and very much alive, but their +feet are tied together and their hands are tied behind them. Then +nooses are placed round their necks and over boughs of the +overhanging trees, and one by one they are hauled up. + +The film gives the fullest details, as you will agree when you see +it. There are twenty-three German officers, and they all hang and +kick their last on twenty-three trees, with the body of poor Madame +lying peacefully in the middle of them. Then by another simple +camera trick the woman's body fades out, and the men's are left +hanging. That is the end. + +"My Great James!" said Kettle when the white wall of the Belgian +Customs House flicked back into darkness, "do you suppose Joseph did +all that?" + +"I'm afraid he did. The camera can lie to a certain extent, but not +about all those essentials. How did he get those chaps unconscious? +Was he a bit of a chemist by any chance? Oh, of course, I remember. +He drugged himself, didn't he, poor little chap?" + +"He did." + +"Well, that film's too melodramatic for our taste, of course, but we +must carry in mind he was awfully fond of that pretty wife of his." + +"Yes, sir, he was. And he was not the coward I thought him. I +apologize to Joseph. He was not a fighting man, and he had to take +the only course that was open. The beasts had got his girl, and he +had to get level, as any man that was worth calling a man would do. +I don't like his method--it's too Belgian for me--but he got level +all right, and that was the main thing so far as Joseph was +concerned." + + + + +X + +THAT RHINE TOUR + +"Dear sir," wrote Captain Kettle. + +"Have managed to get hold of Zeppelin, the Germans who manned her +objecting. Am at present at that place where you said you shot a +right and left of woodcock, and didn't, the second bird being mine, +though I said nothing at the time. I mention the spot that way in +case this letter falls into wrong hands. Please join at once, and +bring with you (as quiet as possible) things as per enclosed list. + +"The grub we can do without if needful, and if you can't arrange the +plant for making gas, we can help ourselves to that from a gasworks +somewhere. But as much petrol as your two big cars can stagger under +is an absolute necessity. And without the dynamite, or something +like it, we shall be a damp squib. + +"You must be here on the job before daybreak, which will be at 6.30 +at latest, or I must sail without you, and trust to picking up +supplies and a shipmate elsewhere. + + "Yours truly, + "O. KETTLE (Master)." + +"P.S.--She is going to be a beast to navigate." + + +"Um," said Mr. Martin Carnforth, M.P. "Who brought this?" + +"Young person on a motor-cycle, sir." The butler's wooden features +relaxed into a moment's smile, and then froze again. "Said the name +was Brown, sir." + +"Well, take the man to the kitchen and give him a drink." + +"Beg pardon, sir, the young person insisted on the name of Doctor +Brown, and was a--er--young person, sir, not a man." + +"I wish to heaven you would speak English, Booker. Do you mean the +messenger is a woman?" + +"I suppose she is, sir, though her clothes, especially the lower----" + +"Well, put her in the drawing-room, and give her some tea, +and--er---buns, and chocolates, and things. And light a fire. And +if she looks that sort give her some cigarettes. Egyptians they +usually like." + +"Yes, sir. Certainly, sir. I did take the liberty of offering her a +whisky-and-soda, sir, when she arrived." + +"With the result, I suppose, that she snapped your head off for your +impudence." + +"No, sir. Seemed flattered, sir, although she didn't want one just +then," said the butler as he made his exit. + +"I shall surprise Booker by kicking him one of these days," Carnforth +said to himself as he watched the door shut behind his ancient +retainer. "And now for our small mariner's list of sea stores. +Gee-Wilikins! He must think I'm Harrod and the Army and Navy Stores +rolled into one Siamese twin. Well, the telephone and a reliable +secretary are sound things." + +Mr. Martin Carnforth, M.P., was a man of decision. He knew what he +wanted, where to get it, and how to get it quickly, and (being shrewd +and businesslike) acted on this knowledge with small delay. Then at +the call of a gong he dressed, and dined thoughtfully and well. He +had been out with Captain Kettle on the warpath before, and knew that +small sailorman would dine comfortably if dinner was before him, and +if it was not, would, apparently with equal pleasure, fast for forty +hours on end. Mr. Carnforth, though tough and wiry, was a man of +full habit, and liked to meet his meals at their usual fixed +intervals. + +Half-way through dinner he remembered Dr. Brown. "Has that messenger +gone yet, Booker?" + +"No, sir. In the drawing-room." + +"H'm, well, it's rather dull dining alone. No, don't you go, Booker. +I'll go and see what she's like myself." And a half-minute later he +was saying, "I'm amazingly sorry I didn't know you were still here. +Please come in to dinner at once. Booker! Bring back the soup." + +Now I think it was Dr. Mary Brown's voluminous black leather breeches +and neat boots and gaiters which got her that very prompt invitation +in the first instance, and it was a handy way she had with her eye +that warmed up early acquaintance into a pretty warm flirtation +before the end of dinner. Carnforth was once pithily described as "a +bit of a warrior." Dr. Brown had of late decided that the way to get +the most out of life was not to be too prim. I am not going to give +away her age, but she had a tidy handful of experience behind her. +She had tried philanthropy, dancing, religion, and medicine, and +found them all very well as hobbies, but had tired of each in turn. +Now she was seeing life as a Lady Motor Scout, and a swashbuckling +air was necessary for local colour. + +"Have another walnut," said Carnforth, as they sat over their +dessert. "I shall call you 'cork' directly." + +"'Cork,' why?" + +"Because you are stopping the bottle. No, my good girl, help +yourself first. Well, if you won't, I'll do my best. It's '70, and +we aren't going to leave the bottle with one of Kettle's little games +to go through on ahead. Ahead of me that is. I shall have to clear +out in half an hour, I'm sorry to say, my dear. My housekeeper will +bed you down here for the night, and see you have shaving tackle and +all that." + +"Oh, but I'm coming too." + +"I bet a trifle Kettle didn't ask you. Cuddlesome little way with +him, hasn't he, when he doesn't want anybody?" + +"Don't be horrid. He's rather a dear, though, isn't he?" + +"Now, you're trying to make me jealous. Have some cognac with your +coffee if you won't drink any more port, and no--Booker, I +particularly told you Dr. Brown always smokes Egyptian cigarettes. +Apologize, my dear, for my bachelor ways, but I hate the beastly +things myself. And I don't smoke cigars with '70 port. Heigh-ho, +_Ge-wine_, _ge-women_, and _ge-song_, as they say in Lord +What's-his-name's spiritual home, are great things, my dear, aren't +they, and I always think when I go off cruising with Kettle that my +bright young career will be cut off short with suddenness. That's +why I am dining decently before starting out to-night. It's a pity +to leave a bottle more of the '70 than's necessary to my young fool +of a nephew." + +"You will smuggle me on board, won't you?" said Dr. Brown, moving her +chair up closer. + +"I'm a bit deaf. What was that? Here, come and sit on my knee, and +then you needn't bawl at me." + +"Oh, I can make you hear all right. You'll manage to get me on +board, won't you, old thing? If it hadn't been for me you would +never have heard of the affair at all." + +"By Jove, you have ripping eyes, m'dear, when you look at a man like +that. You'd better keep out of Lady Kettle's way, or she'll be +reading the riot act." + +"Then you promise?" + +"Oh, Lord, I'll promise anything. Look out. Here's Booker." + + +It was a slightly embarrassed Martin Carnforth that walked up, motor +head-lamp in hand, to Captain Kettle's rendezvous. The huge dark +airship, swinging to her rock moorings, twittered to the breeze +overhead, and the little sailor, with cigar cocked to an acute angle, +lay smoking on a bank of heather. He dandled a 12-bore handily +across his knees. And the cock of his red torpedo beard was full of +truculent satisfaction. + +"Well, did you shoot the whole of the crew of your Zep?" + +"No, sir, only a brace of them. The rest concluded they would do as +they were told, so I put them in gaol before they could change their +minds. It doesn't do to trust Germans an inch these days, Mr. +Carnforth." + +"It never did. But where did you find a gaol up here on the moor?" + +"There's an old adit close by, sir, for some of the lead workings, +though it's too dark for you to see it now. I drove them into that, +and then blew down the entrance. They'd some handy little bombs for +killing babies with in their after car, and I used one of those. I +had to set the fuse by guess, but it went off all right, and nobody +was hurt. At least I wasn't." + +"H'm. And so I suppose they starve or suffocate to death." + +"Oh there's a vertical shaft half a mile further in that leads up to +the moor. We'll leave word, if you like, that they are there, and +anybody that hankers after them can wind them up through that shaft. +But what anyone can want Germans for these days is beyond me." + +"Collectors fancy all sorts of bric-à-brac, even live Germans. +There's quite a cult in some political circles for collecting live +Germans and pampering them. How did you catch the Zep, by the way? +Had she come down to poach your rabbits? She's rather out of her +latitude up here in the middle of Yorkshire. There are precious few +babes and women to kill amongst these moors." + +"There was a sudden cold snap in the early morning, sir. My minimum +thermometer on the garden wall showed eighteen degrees of frost, +though when I went to look at it after breakfast to take the reading, +the sun was shining and the air temperature had gone up to 45 +degrees." + +"And they wanted to come down to thaw?" + +"No, sir, there was a heavy snow-storm up aloft there, and the weight +of snow forced them down. This craft here, Mr. Carnforth, is 500 +feet long and 40 feet beam, and if you work out what half an inch of +rain-water--turned into snow--means over that surface, you'll find it +figures out at a lot more weight than she could carry. So they gave +up their job of being frightful over Bradford and Leeds, and slanted +down to earth up here in the dales, where it is quieter. They were +just starting to scrape off the snow (and making a very poor job of +it) when I came to the top of the scaur there to look at a weasel +trap." + +"And the weasel was forgotten, I suppose?" + +"Mr. Carnforth, with me business comes first, and pleasure +afterwards. I took the weasel--a fine young dog---to hang up for my +keeper's larder, and re-set the trap, and then I gave two Dutchmen +who'd forgotten their manners a barrel of number five apiece at +thirty yards. Afterwards I told the rest to put up their hands." + +"And they kindly did it? Tame of them." + +"I'm afraid, sir," said Captain Kettle dryly, "they believed I'd part +of the British Army at my back. It was very foggy, and they didn't +seem accustomed to our moorland." + +"Bang goes another ideal! I always looked upon you as another George +Washington." + +"Well, sir," said Kettle with a flush, "I try to be truthful, and if +necessary, I would have taken on the whole thirteen. But I'd got an +idea I might make use of this Zeppelin, and I knew that if we started +scrapping they'd destroy her before I could get them all comfortably +killed off. Anyway, I didn't tell any lies, if that's what you're +meaning. No, by James! I just sang out in the fog to 'keep back +there out of shot' and hailed down to the Dutchmen that if they +didn't march into that adit, one-time, I'd mow down the lot of them. +I expect the cold and this moorland country nipped them. They ran to +cover like a push of the old-style Dutch deck-hands with a brace of +mates after them. Well then, as I say, sir, I fastened them up and +went back to breakfast. Lady Kettle never likes me to be late." + +"I admire your taste in messengers," said Carnforth with a grin. +"You seem to have made a great impression on the damsel in the +leather breeks some time during your shady past." + +"My Great James! Has she been talking?" + +"Good heavens, man, don't jump down my throat--or hers--like that. I +assure you she's been most discreet. I wish I'd had your chances +though. With you ahead of me, I don't get a look in." + +"I don't know what you're driving at, sir," Kettle snapped at him +acidly. "I did nothing to the lady I--er--couldn't help." + +"Oh, that will be quite enough for Lady Kettle I'm sure when we laugh +over the yarn with her--All right. I'll climb down, Colonel. Don't +shoot." + +"Our views about ladies are very different, sir," said Kettle with +much stiffness. + +"Thank the Lord, yes. I'm out for fun. You've Lady Kettle. Now +then, business: There's a five-ton motor lorry load of hydrogen +cylinders, and a quarter of a mile of piping in case we can't get +alongside. There's a ton and a half of petrol on another lorry. +There's a third lorry with a special line in T.N.T. bombs fitted with +the Carnforth patent vane. I've never contrived to get our fool +air-craft officials to take them up, and now's the chance to +advertise them. That's the only reason I came. Now what's the +scheme? Are you going to take your Zep down to Hendon and make a +present of her to the British Army? As you haven't invited the +authorities here, I should say that is the correct procedure." + +Captain Kettle pulled thoughtfully at his red torpedo beard and +stared at Carnforth. + +Mr. Carnforth pursed his lips and scratched his chin and stared at +Captain Kettle. + +Then Carnforth sniggered, and that seemed to break the spell. "I +thought, sir," said Kettle with some embarrassment, "we might do +something on our own. You see neither Navy nor Army has any use for +us. They say I've a wooden leg, and they say you're too--er----" + +"Tum-tummy." + +"Well, I believe the brutes would even say that. So I thought we +might put in a little trip without consulting them. You see, sir, I +know very little of Europe, having spent, as you know, most of my +life at sea. We'd a Preacher who came to our chapel two Sundays ago +and he'd done what he called 'the Rhine tour.' I didn't think much +of it myself, but he kept dragging his experiences into his sermon, +and the congregation liked it. It's rather a slur on me, sir, but I +may tell you in confidence that the collection was thirteen and +two-pence up on my own average. I've got to get level with that +somehow, or the Wharfedale Particular Methodists will want to know +why I am sticking on at their head. One of our mottoes is, 'By their +deeds ye shall know them.'" + +"It's the devil of a position," Carnforth agreed. "I'm no preacher +myself, but as a politician I agree with you. But I don't quite +catch the point." + +"Why I was thinking, sir, we might do the Rhine Tour (just as the +tripper people advertise it) in our own Zep, and empty our ballast on +anything in the shell-manufacturing line as we went along. Those +commercial towns are not mentioned in the Tourist Guide, but I guess +we can spot them. Our preacher was great on the medieval castles, +and I should scorn to drop bombs on them, because they will always be +of interest to photographers when Germany's opened up to white men, +after the war. And there's one other thing." + +"Well?" + +"I know, sir, you laugh at poetry, but our preacher said the Rhine +reeked of it. I tell you, sir, when he occupied my pulpit, he let +off poetry about the Rhine till I fairly writhed. It was other +people's too, and the swine never owned up. But let me go there, and +pump out some verse of my own on the spot, and I'll give my crowd the +squirms or know the reason why. Yes, by James! They'll understand +whose congregation they are by the time I've finished shooting off +those Rhine verses at them, the mutinous dogs." + +"Hullo!" + +"Yes, Mr. Carnforth, with shame I own it, but I've been having +trouble. Lady Kettle, as you know, has been filling our pulpit on +several occasions during my absence, and I want to clear her ticket +at once. She dropped the collection, but she's kept the popularity +going strong. It's me that two of our blighters have got their knife +into. One's a chemist from down the dale (not rightly in our circle +at all) and one's a sheep farmer from above Arncliffe. They complain +I preach too hot a kind of hell for their complete enjoyment, +feeling, I suppose, they're in for it as residents later. Well, Mr. +Carnforth, let me get that Rhine poetry straight from the soil, so to +speak, to fire out at them, and they'll swallow any brand of hot +place they're offered. I know the beggars. And now, if you please, +we'll just run through the Zep's engines and her rising gear. The +rest of the gadgetts can wait till we're under way. But I tell you +beforehand, she's a regular bag of tricks." + + +Dr. Mary Brown was not discovered till they had left the gloom of +England behind them, and were heading across a great saucer of the +North Sea. It was Kettle who found her in the after gondola, +plugging her ears against the noise of the engine exhausts, and +Carnforth, when called into consultation, rather basely disclaimed +all knowledge of her intention to stow away. + +"Well, Miss," said the little sailor acidly, "you have forced your +way in where you were not invited, and you'll have to do as you're +told, lady or no lady." + +"Call me Doctor, please." + +"To start with, I'll not have my ship disgraced with you in those +breeches. Can you make yourself a skirt, if I give you the material?" + +"I can't, and I won't try. You're horrid." + +"Very well, then, Miss, I will be your dressmaker. In the meanwhile +you'll stay in there with the lock turned till I'm ready." + +But Captain Kettle was not able to commence dressmaking just then. +From somewhere on the well-watched water below, a seaplane soared and +buzzed towards the huge airship with vicious intent. She was +travelling three miles to the airship's two, and was ascending +rapidly. + +The sailor picked up the loud-speaking telephone and tried to get +hold of Carnforth in the engine gondola, but without result. The +roar of the exhausts hung round them like the noise of a battle. So +he steadied his helm and ran aft down the central alley-way. + +"Give her more speed," he bawled in Carnforth's ear. "There's an +English seaplane after us, and we'll be bombed if we don't look out, +by our own men. There's no chance of letting him know who we are +with all this row going on, and he's as noisy as we are." + +"You've all the speed I can get," Carnforth shouted back. "These +infernal engines have got a chill on the gizzard. What does the fool +of a 'plane want to interfere for? Can't he see we're going towards +Germany?" + +"There's only one kind of good Zep from his point of view, sir, and +that's a dead Zep. If we can't run, we must rise." + +"I've got the horizontal rudders full on, and she doesn't answer. +Not enough speed." + +"Then we must turn the exhaust into the envelope and warm up the +whole outfit. That will make her rise fast enough." + +"It's about ten to one we set her on fire in the process if we try +that. I say, Captain, there's a damn sight more in Zep-driving than +the ordinary amateur guesses at. Here, that's the cut-out to this +set of engines. You stand by it, and shut when I wave. I'll shut +the cut-out of the port engines. As soon as you think we're high +enough, open them again, and don't you go on a second longer than's +dead necessary. We're squirting white hot air on to hydrogen +ballonettes, and it's about as safe as having a firework party in a +powder factory. Now then, hup!" + +The din of the exhausts was dulled, and the huge airship quivered. +Then she swelled visibly, straining at her covering till all wrinkles +were lost in chubbiness. The soaring seaplane seemed to be dropping +like a stone beneath them. The ring of sea, with its ships and its +tiny fret of waves appeared to be falling away through the bottom of +space. And then they swooped up into a veil of cloud, dank and icy +to the feel, and shutting them away from all human sight, and +spangling them with instant dewdrops. + +"Keep her at that level, sir, for half an hour," Kettle bawled at his +friend's ear, "and I will change course a dozen points. We'll soon +shake off our navy customer down below if only this cloud doesn't +thin out before we've run our distance." + +The little sailor went forward again, and his engineer, with a +minute's rest ahead of him, straightened his back and interviewed the +prisoner through a port hole. + +"I told you you'd catch it," he chuckled. + +"Captain Kettle was most insulting." + +"He struck me as being icily polite. I knew he'd never stand those +bags." + +"I mean he was insulting in persisting in calling me, Miss, when he +knows quite well I'm Doctor." + +"So you are, m'dear. I'll lace into him sometime when we get home, +if you like. Of course you're a doctor. Any one could tell that at +once by your learned frown. Look here, do you mind tying up my +knuckles where I've grazed them?" + +"Oh, are you hurt?" + +"Horribly. F-s-s! Go gently, m'dear. Ah, that's nicer. There, if +I squeeze on to your hand like that, it doesn't ache so much. That +bandage properly sterilized? Here, hold on to it a minute. My +blessed port engine is going on strike again. Who wouldn't sell a +farm and go Zep-driving?" + +Now, Captain Sir Owen Kettle, K.C.B., was beginning to find his +navigation in a tangle. At sea, come fair, come gale, come night, +come fog, he could find his way from port to port with any expert who +did business on the great waters. The sextant and the log were his +cousins; the compass, with its most erratic variations, was his +familiar friend. + +But up here in the navigating position of the Zeppelin he was faced +with a score of new problems. Height, angle of ascension, angle of +descent, wind drift, speed by engine evolution, retardation due to +increase in envelope size, varying air friction, leeway, were all +indicated on dials and recorders in front of him. He took these as +accurate, to start with, but soon convinced himself that many of them +were recording fiction. + +For a while, too, he pinned his faith, mariner-fashion, on the +reliability of the elaborate Thompson compass. But when, during a +passage between two electricity-discharging clouds this instrument +emulated a windmill in full working activity, he felt that one of the +props had been taken from his universe. Even his cigar in that rare +air burned abnormally. + +Occasionally, very occasionally, he got a glimpse at the sun, and, +comparing this with his watch, was able to get an approximate +bearing. But for the most part the Zeppelin travelled through a bank +of cloud, though even this, most unfairly (he felt) was not enough to +conceal her. + +Those envious dogs, the officers of the British Navy, who sailed the +North Sea below in forty assorted craft, kept spotting her outline. + +They merrily wirelessed to one another, "Mark Zep over!" and at +intervals, as she blundered down their sentry line, snapped off +shrapnel at her. It was a poor solace to Captain Kettle's feelings +that their shooting was extremely bad. The hardest trial of all was +not being able to bawl back at them exactly what he thought. + +There are, of course, ninety and nine close shaves for one actual +shipwreck, and about these it is one of the primary rules of +shipmasters (as it is of railway companies and others) to keep the +most profound secrecy. Captain Owen Kettle is, as has been recorded +many times, one of the few really truthful men now alive, but even +he, when Mr. Carnforth bawled in his ear "Finding your way all +right?" snarled back "Think I don't know my job?" + +"You're making for the Texel, aren't you?" + +"As it happens, I am." + +"Of course, my dear chap, I don't question your navigation for one +moment, but when the clouds pulled away for a moment just now, I +spotted one of my own ships heading along the same course as +ourselves." + +"Well?" + +"Oh, she's off to Norway, that's all." + +"By James, sir, are you trying to teach me to navigate?" + +"Not a bit, not a bit. Why should I?" + +"Because you know nothing about it. And I may tell you, sir, that I +don't either up here. I can get neither sights nor soundings, and my +compass is like a tee-to-tum. You might think, Mr. Carnforth, it is +an easy thing to take a departure from Flamborough Head and hit +Europe. Yesterday I would have said a child could have done it. But +just now I'm free to own there are difficulties. These auxiliary +sky-wind jammers take a bit more thinking out than the ordinary +seafaring man has any idea of. But don't you get uneasy, sir. You +can carry in mind I've got to do that Rhine Tour, or the Wharfedale +Particular Methodists will take more handling than I care to talk +about." + +A minute later Carnforth was telling Dr. Mary Brown that he had +"pulled his Eminence's leg all right." + +"Nasty little wasp," said the lady. + +"Not a bit of it. He's the best chap in the Eastern Hemisphere. But +I bet you a bottle of eau de Cologne, my dear, you can't guess what +he's doing just now." + +"Oh, writing poetry, I suppose." + +"Not he. He's sewing at a skirt for you. It will be made of canvas. +He cut it out with his pocket-knife on the deckplanks. It's not one +of those nasty skimpy ones, either. There will be tons of room in it +to cover all of you decently." + +"You're both of you horrors," said Dr. Mary Brown. "Oh, there, +they're shooting at us again! Mr. Carnforth, I forbid you to laugh. +Do something! Get it stopped." + + +Now, ever since the start from that lonely Yorkshire moorland, the +port engine of the Zeppelin had been giving trouble, and naturally +Carnforth had given it most of his attention. The automatic +adjustment of its carburettors for varying air-pressures was faulty, +its magnetos shorted at every jolt, its plugs sooted almost as soon +as they were replaced. Its driver was burned, stifled, deafened by +its imbecilities, but nursed it through every ailment triumphantly. +It was the starboard engine that let them down. Lubrication failed +at one of fifty points; there was a smell of heated steel and +scorching oil; and before Carnforth, frantically searching, could +find the sore, a gear-box bearing seized, and the whole of the +starboard machine stopped with a squeal and a jar. Incidentally one +huge propeller blade flicked off into space. + +"Good afternoon," said Mr. Martin Carnforth, M.P., as he watched its +whirring flight. "I wonder if the old bus has a big enough helm to +keep her straight against the port engine alone. Hullo, what's that? +Yes. Oh, chasing her tail, is she? If I slow down more than a few +revolutions she'll stop altogether. Aye aye, sir; stop port engine +it is." + +Dusk was falling, and the huge gas-bag drifted as a helpless derelict +at the same pace as the cloud which surrounded her. "It's beginning +to look a bit sick for your Rhine Tour," Carnforth admitted, as he +rejoined his friend. "I'm a rotten Zep-driver, and that's a fact." + +"You're one engineer, sir, and not six. I'm the man that's to blame. +Here am I, a failure at my own trade. I aimed at the Texel, and a +minute ago, through a hole in the clouds, I sighted Heligoland, four +points starboard and about ten miles ahead. By James! Mr. +Carnforth, if we could have kept way on her half an hour more, and +those patent bombs of yours are what you claim, we could have blown +Heligoland into fine spray." + +"Shall we miss it now?" + +"I make it we've a lee-drift of some twenty-eight to thirty miles an +hour, sir. There's a stiffish breeze blowing up here, though you +can't feel now, because, of course, we're drifting with it." + +"Where will that take us?" + +Captain Kettle picked up a parallel ruler and laid it on the German +chart of the North Sea pinned to the table in front of him. "Here's +where we are now"--he drew a line with a pencil and stepped back, +pointing. "And that's the course of our present drift." + +"Phew, slap across the Kiel Canal!" + +"If the wind doesn't shift, sir. And as that's a thing over which we +have no control, and the starboard engine's beyond repair, I'll ask +you to excuse me, sir, for the next hour. I've a little writing to +do. I've my head full of some really stirring verse, and I want to +get it on paper before it escapes me." + +"Feel you've got your argumentative chemist and the Littondale sheep +farmer fixed, eh?" + +"I can see the tears hopping down their whiskers, sir. If only we'd +an accordion on board here, I could set to music some new poetry that +I believe would surprise even you." + +The short wintry day faded out, and, after a long twilight, night +fell, black, and chill, and starless. Even the high air was not at +peace in this time of universal war. Searchlight beams slashed it +with swift cuts, and the rumbling growl of guns drifted to it from +all quarters and reverberated amongst the clouds. Dewdrops from the +vast gas-bag overhead dripped on to the roofs of the gondolas with a +noise like falling shot. Twice a rattle like machine guns from a +neighbouring cloud told that unseeing aeroplanes were doing +sentry-go. In the after gondola Mr. Martin Carnforth watched Dr. +Mary Brown brew tea on an electric heater, and flirted with her +industriously. In the control station Captain Owen Kettle made +poetry which he felt would shake Upper Wharfedale down to the very +limestone from which it was gouged. + +Then land slid into view beneath them, the German land of +Schleswig-Holstein--which is the basic cause of the present war--and +Mr. Martin Carnforth, M.P., lost his temper and flung a teacup and +its steaming contents at the silent starboard engine of the Zeppelin. +Captain Kettle made no demonstration. He had an older acquaintance +with Fate and the Winds of Heaven, and knew that he could change +neither of them. He went steadily on with his literary work. In his +mind's eye he saw the bearded chemist from down the dale writhing +under his next sermon. + +"You will let me drop the first bomb on the Canal, won't you?" Dr. +Brown pleaded. "I'm sorry you spilt your tea. Here's another cup. +I'm a suffragette, you know, and it would be a splendid thing for me +if I could say the Kiel Canal and the ships in it were blown up by a +woman." + +Carnforth's laugh was rather startling. But his words were suave +enough, as usual. "You can drop the whole caboodle as far as I am +concerned, my dear, and if you smash the canal, or a ship that +counts, I'll endow your excellent society with enough to keep it in +chocolates for the next ten years. But if you watch the ground below +there, you'll see the wind's shifted, and we're drifting north." + +"The horrid Zep's twiddling round so much I don't know which is north +and which is south-east." + +"Then don't worry to look, my dear, or you'll strain your eyes. By +Jove, you have pretty eyes, too, as I believe I've told you before. +You'll get married one of these days, sharp and quick, before you +know what's happened, if you look at people like that. There, my +dear, you sit down in that corner out of the draught and swig your +tea, and I'll go and have a word with the Admiral." + +"The wind," said Captain Kettle, when his friend joined him, "seems +far more flawy up here than one finds it down on the sea. It's +blowing as fresh as ever, but it changes direction from minute to +minute, as you can see for yourself, sir. I believe we shall hit +that canal yet, though at present we can't see----" + +At that precise moment two sections of cloud below them slid apart +and rolled up with the quickness of a conjuring trick, and there +below them Schleswig-Holstein lay spread out like a map. It was +striped with railways and glittering with a great canal. Those +lights astern would be Büsum that the Danes fought so bitterly to +hold; there were Heide's electrics immediately below; and that great +glow ahead on the other side of the canal must be Neümunster, where +they make the cloth and the beer and the dyewares. + +But it was the Kaiser Wilhelm Canal that held the eye. It was lit +like a street with sizzling arcs. it was busy with a thousand +activities. It was not a mere waterway between towns. It was the +main artery of one colossal city. Launches and passenger boats did +traffic on its surface; the abounding industries of war hummed on its +banks; and in the sidings, moored fore and aft to the great bollards +on the banks, lay the tragic items of the Second Largest Fleet in all +the World. There were Dreadnought and super-Dreadnought battleships, +huge Dreadnought cruisers, and swarming torpedo craft moored there in +inglorious safety--all the kinds of vessels, in fact, that go to make +a navy's complement, except submarines--and, given engine power, the +hovering Zeppelin could have destroyed one after another as though +they had been ships of straw, so long as her supply of bombs held out. + +"Whilst as it is," said Carnforth bitterly, "we are just as helpless +and harmless as a Cabinet Minister with a mouthful of words. We're +running parallel to the canal at as accurate a half-mile distance as +if we were geared to a rail. A man's cursed Creation for less." + +"Yes, sir," agreed Captain Kettle. "It's annoying. I've been +looking forward to that Rhine Tour more than I've told you, and I am +beginning to fear the chances for it are fading out." The Zeppelin +gave a sudden jump upwards. "By James! who's throwing out my +ballast? By James! sir, that infernal Miss Brown has let go one of +your bombs!" + +"And it's falling beautifully. Look there! Straight as a die, now +those vanes have got their grip. Kettle, if I'd the British +air-craft bomb-buyer here, that would be worth a quarter of a million +to me." + +"Well," said Kettle dryly, "no one can say I ever dodged trouble. +The band will begin to play if that bomb hits anything solid and +bursts. I hope Miss will like the results." + +"It's dropping on that patch of green that looks like marsh. Damn +that girl! Why couldn't she use brains and loose off over something +solid? Glory Alleluia! How's that for a tickle fuse?" + +The bomb touched earth, and a volcano spouted. The eye saw it first +as a splendid pyrotechnic picture. Later came the din of the +explosion and an air-wave that set the Zeppelin a'rock like a cork in +a flooded gutter. And almost as soon searchlights spat out from all +the countryside, exploring the zenith, and from that down and round. +The first quivered on to the airship and settled there in twelve +seconds from its start, and ten others promptly followed suit. + +The great Zeppelin hung there in the wind, lit like a stage, with a +hundred gun-muzzles swinging on to her, helpless as Montgolfier's +first balloon. + +"By James!" said Kettle, "this beats me! Why don't they fire? +Haven't they anti-aircraft guns?" + +"I should say the place was stiff with them. But apparently the +private night signal of the home-coming Hun is 'Drop one bomb, and +then sit tight and do nothing,' and it's acted. They think we're +their own pals suffering from engine trouble, and that very nice bomb +was dropped by accident, which happens to be the strict truth. Great +Scott! I wonder how many candle-power of light they're buzzing at us +from that canal?" + +"And you believe they're taking us for Germans?'' + +"I'm dead sure of it." + +"By James, sir, I don't like that! I don't know whether you, sir," +the little sailor added pointedly, "feel the degradation of it, too?" + +"I do--oh, I do! But I'm going to stick it for the time being all +the same. Looking down the muzzles of all those infernal guns has +swamped all my better feelings. At this rate of drift we shall be +out of range in another ten minutes, and then I'll be my old brave, +bonny self again. Damn that girl! There! she's dropped another +bomb! Little fool must be as fond of stirring up a wasp's nest as +you are." + +In the after-gondola Dr. Mary Brown cowered on a sofa and tickled +delicate machinery with a neat but shuddering toe. "Oh, why didn't +you come when I called?" she demanded when Carnforth opened the door. + +"Because I didn't hear you, my dear, for one thing. Have you been +calling me? Glad you've been enjoying yourself, but felt the thing +was not complete without me. What are you playing at now?" + +"Trying to prevent more of these beastly things from slipping down +through that hole. Didn't you hear what a noise the other ones made?" + +"I believe I did. Quite a little bang. If it tickles you to know, I +dare say the noise has reached Berlin by now. There, take away your +foot; I have set the trigger again. What was your nice little idea +in pulling over the release lever?" + +"I thought it was the switch for the water-heater thing we used for +the tea." + +Mr. Martin Carnforth gulped--and then sniggered. "Well, you've +jangled Wilhelm's nerves all right, and with one of his own dear +Zeps, too. The suffragette papers ought to give you an awfully fine +par about it." + +"Do you think they really will?" asked Dr. Mary Brown hopefully. + +"Sure of it, if we get home to report same. But if you're +particularly anxious for newspaper glory, I shouldn't try any more +little games. You see, they are so apt to irritate the Bosches, +who've really got no sense of humour. They are not like us; they +still take their Zeps pretty seriously." + +A voice that announced, "Wind's shifting to the s'uthard," made them +both start and move apart. + +"Good Lord!" said Carnforth. "I thought that was my chaperon come to +take me home. This telephone is one of the loud-speaking sort, +intended to be heard above the din of the motor-exhausts. Now +they're stopped, it's a bit startling." + +"Conscience!" said Dr. Mary Brown archly. + + +In the meanwhile the huge, helpless airship sidled and whirled at the +sport of the air-currents across towards the Baltic. But with the +edge of that sea beginning to gleam beneath her through the night, +she got into another valley of the winds, and fled away north, down +Schleswig-Holstein. + +Captain Kettle by this time had grown thoroughly disgusted with +air-travel over which he had so little control. Moreover, he had +found a very efficient substitute for the actual Rhine Tour of his +ambition, and, as further damage to Germany seemed out of the +question for the moment, he wanted to get back to Upper Wharfedale +for the earliest possible delivery of his epoch-making sermon. So, +as the airship's latest course seemed to be due north, he made up his +mind to bring her to ground before she could change her mind and take +to the seas again, but if possible he proposed that she should carry +him and his crew across the Danish border, so as to avoid further +complications with the German Army. Even Captain Sir Owen Kettle has +had to admit that in these latter days Germans in bulk are likely to +be too well organized to be tackled without adequate resources. + +The exit valves for the hydrogen in the many ballonettes all +converged to the control position, and Captain Kettle experimented +with them judiciously, and noted results on the barometer and the +other altitude meters. + +The night was inkily dark, and in the grazing country of +Schleswig-Holstein (which was once Denmark) there are few salient +features except for houses and farm villages. These were tucked away +in bed, and showed no lights; and, indeed, up there, in the quiet +night, it was hard to remember that nine-tenths of Europe was flaming +with war. The stillness bred in Kettle's poetic brain the germ of +another idea. He turned again to pencil and paper, and worked it +out. Morning was beginning to thin the night when it was borne in on +him that the Zeppelin was falling. + +It was the dawn chill, of course, that did it. With engines running, +he could have turned the hot exhausts into the envelope, and expanded +the hydrogen in the ballonettes, and gained height with ease. Now he +was falling steadily--in fact, rather quickly. Well, that was all +right. The Danish border was close ahead, and he had designed to +come to earth in Denmark. He picked up the telephone and warned the +pair in the after gondola to stand-by for going ashore--and, +incidentally, forgetting the power of that loud-sounding instrument, +caused them to jump. + +* * * * * + +As far as Mr. Martin Carnforth's personal record goes, that was about +the end of the tale. He was conscious of a heavy blow--it seemed +like several heavy blows all rolled into one, and when he next awoke +to life it was in a bare, clean room that smelt vaguely of cows and +cheese. He was lying on a wooden bed that was too short for him, and +sitting by his side was Dr. Mary Brown. Dr. Brown was wearing a +voluminous skirt made of whitey-brown canvas, and was looking sulky. +There was a smell of pungent cigar-smoke in the room, and tracing +this up, Carnforth's eye lit upon the small, neat form of Captain +Kettle, writing busily at the window ledge. + +His eyes worked back again to the skirt which covered Dr. Brown's +voluminous black leather breeches, and this set his thoughts going +again. He chuckled pleasantly at them. + +"Hullo, sir," said the little sailor, turning round. "Glad to see +you're getting all right again. You had a bit of a bump." + +"It seemed to me several bumps." + +"My fault, sir, entirely. I brought her alongside in a way that +ought to cost me my airman's ticket. I told you all along she was a +beast to navigate, but I am not going to excuse myself behind that. +You put your shoulder out in getting ashore." + +"And you put it in, my dear?" + +"I tried," said Dr. Brown sulkily. "I did my best." + +"But you had to call in a second opinion, eh?" + +"Well, sir, you see, Miss hasn't had the experience in setting limbs +and putting them into joint that I have. But I think you'll find we +did the job all right between us." + +"And where's the Zep?" + +"I'm afraid that's a total loss. You see, sir, if the Danes had got +it, being neutrals, they'd probably have traded it back to the +Germans. So I just put a match to the petrol tank before I left. We +were only just across the border, and a whole regiment of German +soldiers skipped over to put out the blaze." + +"And didn't they? Quick, man. Don't say they managed it." + +"It looked as if some of your bombs got over-heated, sir. She made +one of the finest blow-ups I ever heard, and the great, big +quarry-hole that was left was beginning to fill with water when we +set off for the house. The farmer here seems rather pleased. He +says the great difficulty on this farm has been enough water for +milk-cooling." + +"Eh, well, we seem to have made some good Germans after all. And our +little girl with the nice eyes here has had the time of her life, +haven't you, my dear? You appear to be the person that's been mainly +scored off, Captain. You'll have trouble with that chapel if the +Rhine Tour was essential." + +"Don't you make any mistake there, sir. I've got that crowd in hand, +and a bit to spare, if Rhine poetry will do it." + +"What, you've written the things?" + +"I have, sir. It seems to me I generally can write poetry best about +places I haven't seen. Seeing them generally spoils my flow. If I +don't give that chemist Lorely enough to choke him, I'll eat my hat. +These new Rhine Tour poems of mine beat the real thing hands down. +They'll just make the sweat drip off him when I give them from our +pulpit." + + + + +X + +THE INVENTOR OF MELTITE + +Mr. S.J. Livingstone was not a poor man, but I think he may be +described broadly as an ambitious man. He had an air that some +people (other than customers) found arrogant. + +Soon after the War began he tried to hold up the British Admiralty +for a million sterling, free of tax, and an earldom; and when this +did not come off, he crossed Whitehall and tried the same game on the +War Office. He got hold of some bland ass there who irritated him +into saying more than was judicious, and left the building under +arrest. The magistrate before whom he was hauled, called in doctors +to inquire into his mental state, and was with difficulty persuaded +to dismiss him with a caution. + +He had not gone to either of these seats of military learning on the +strength of his appearance alone. He was a business man, and had no +mind to be fubbed off with underlings. He knew it would require one +of the Heads to be man enough to give him what he asked for, and he +saw to it that weighty introductions carried him direct to a +Head--both at the Admiralty and War Office. The only trouble was, +neither Head that he saw was big enough for his job, or S.J. +Livingstone would have got what he asked for--or been taken out into +the yard and shot before he could talk. For myself, I think I should +have shot him, as being on the whole the safer, and certainly the +cleaner course. However, perhaps that is a matter of taste. You +shall judge for yourself. + +But read next a word or two about the man himself. Livingstone, he +called himself, and by reason of a birth in Paisley, affected a +Glasgow accent, rather of the Pollokshields variety. (This is a +cross between cleft palate and German.) His father had been Solomon +Levenstein who had exchanged brutal ill-treatment in the Frankfort +Ghetto for the doubtful delights of being a rabbi in Scotland. +(Conceive a Jewish priest in an atmosphere of Wee Frees, U.P.'s and +Episcopalians!) S.J. Livingstone, son of Solomon Levenstein, never +visited Germany, but loathed it and all its contents from the bitter +tales of Ghetto persecution dinned into him during his upbringing. + +Old Solomon, in his way, was a well-read man; S.J. was a +better--mainly in the direction of natural science. I think if +somebody had subsidised S.J. and he had specialized in one or two +branches of chemistry or chemical physics he might have been +something big, though again this is open to question. It is on the +cards that when he discovered something good--Meltite, for +instance--he would have dropped pure research like a hot brick and +struck out boldly for commercial affluence. He was a good deal of a +mixture--which is perhaps the same thing as saying he was altogether +a Jew. For instance; no outsider would have suspected him of +collecting enamels; but he did, lavishly and worshipfully; and told +no one, so that prices should not be raised against him. + +In commercial life, S.J. Livingstone was a seller of dyewares in +Bradford (Livingstone & Co., 29, Chapel Row. Agents for Dresdner +Alizerin Gesellschaft. Telegrams:--"Explorer," Bradford). Up to the +beginning of the War, he did pretty well, sold a decent weight of +goods in his office, and more, after the manner of his kind, at the +political club where he lunched, and at the golf club where he kept +his liver down to gauge on Saturdays. On Sundays he was invisible. +He spent half that day in chemical research--he was chasing a cheaper +synthetic indigo--and the other half in gloating over his enamels. +No living soul ever caught him at either. Between whiles his +housekeeper fed him sumptuously, although he bullied her. + +After war began he made money hand over fist. How he ran German +dyewares into England without getting dropped on I know, but shall +not tell. Probably the Government knows, too. The British +Government makes a speciality of doing silly things, we all admit, +but it is not what the Oriental calls an All-the-time Fool. We all +knew the Government wanted dyewares to get into the country for khaki +and other things, and, presumably the Government knew when to wink. +Anyway, Livingstone & Co. were the firm with the goods, which they +bought for shillings a pound, and sold for pounds a pound, to S.J.'s +delight, and to the noted increase amongst his enamels. It was just +after last December's balance sheet he cut out the big Yankee +collectors over that bit of old Limoges that Christie's called the +Scarlet Madonna. Also he bought twenty dozen Pommery '06. + +Then by an absolute fluke on one Sunday morning he blundered upon +Meltite. + +It was untamed enough when he first mixed it, and I gather that he +narrowly escaped with life. As it was, he was badly burned, his +laboratory in the cellar was wrecked, and the City Fire Brigade had +an interesting time salving the balance of the house. + +But he was skilled enough at his job, and once he knew the nature of +the mixture he had stumbled upon it was easy to arrange its +proportions so that it could be handled in comparative safety. +Incidentally the City Corporation helped him. They were using a +mechanical mixture of an iron salt and powdered aluminium for welding +together the ends of tram-rails, and he studied their methods. The +Corporation called their stuff Thermit. There is no secret about it. +Thermit is used for a score of purposes, and latterly the ingenious +German loads it into his Zeppelin bombs. S.J. Livingstone's mixture +was like Thermit, only more so. He added to his powdered aluminium a +substance that gave up its oxygen with more astonishing quickness, +with the result of producing even more amazing heat than burning +Thermit gave out. + +After inspecting the fused remains of his cellar, the inventor hit +upon "Meltite" as a name for his discovery, and then spent a +rapturous afternoon gloating over his enamels, and thanking Allah +that he kept them in a fireproof safe. He went to the Seascale links +for a couple of days then, and because he was thinking of something +else the whole time, played golf extremely badly. But exercise and +sea air crisped his brain, and lifted his outlook from the retail +view. + +Half the world was at war. This was no time for a new Limited +Company, and anyway that infernal Treasury would probably stop a +capital issue. Besides, if he took out a patent, and published a +specification, Germany would jump his claims as surely as mails ran +to Rotterdam. + +"No," he declared--and smashed a new driver into the turf and sent +the head flying. "No, a Government is my mark, and the British is +the nearest. The German, of course, would be the easier to handle, +but strafe Germany, anyway--The British Government--and keep the +mixture a secret till they pay--and then let them work it--Caddy, +give me a club that won't break. I think I'll make an iron shot of +this now." + +Thereafter he sold the business of S.J. Livingstone & Co., 29, Chapel +Row, Bradford, to an unintelligent Christian (being very shrewdly of +opinion that no more German dyewares would slip through before the +end of the war), and settled down to draw out a prospectus for +Meltite that would convince even a high Government official. + +Shells for naval and military cannon, loaded with Meltite, were the +basis of his first idea. On leaving the gun they would be fired by +means of an ordinary time fuse, and could (1) arrive as a mass of +molten steel--highly recommended for annoyance to trenches; or (2) +could warm up after penetrating armour--a special line this for +setting fire to refractory warships. + +S.J. Livingstone was not a literary genius, but he was a salesman, +and a man who can unload dye-wares in Bradford and Manchester can +sell anything. His prospectus of Meltite was a gem in its way, and +he was justly proud of it. But he did not send it through the post. +He got the best introductions possible to the biggest man available +at the Admiralty, and took the prospectus in his hand to back up his +voluble tongue. + +He failed at the Admiralty to make a sale, as has just been recorded, +but I know no details. All I could get out of him was that the +officials at that office were "a pretty tough lot, but, according to +their limited lights, sound." S.J. did not get his knife into the +Admiralty as he did into the War Office, and I think it was more the +particular "bland ass" (his term) who received him there than the +failure to effect a bargain that got on his nerves. He was always +rather an arrogant man with those he considered weaker than himself. + +For a moment, after that second rejection with its police-court +sequel, he was minded to seek the sure market of Germany. They, at +any rate, had no qualms about the methods by which they killed an +enemy, so long as they killed him efficiently, and anyway Germans +knew enough about elementary science to understand a first-class +invention when they saw one. He dined on this, in style, and at the +Café Royal, and came out, and shook a fist at darkened London. + +"Curse you," he said to Great Britain, "I don't care a row of beans +about you, but I'm not going to help the blighters who tormented +Solomon Levenstein in Frankfort. And I am going to make Creation +hear all about Meltite, even if I don't get paid C.O.D. Afterwards, +when you fools here do get wise to what you've been offered, the +price will be two millions instead of one, with the earldom thrown in +as per before. Dirt cheap, too! Only ten hours' cost of your +blessed war. Then I'll settle down and marry--yes, marry some real +nice girl with a lump of money--and have a family, and try to feel a +real Englishman. And I'll have the best collection of enamels on +earth--not on view to the public, or they'd be raising my income-tax. +'The Earl and Countess of Livingstone invite you to Livingstone +Castle to meat tea, and afterwards to view their celebrated enamels.' +And perhaps we won't do it in style----I beg your pardon." + +"Not 't all," said the man whose hat he had bashed in. "Just +rehearsing your speech, I suppose? Or have you been dinin'--like +myself? What do you say to joining me in small glass particular old +fine champagne brandy to keep it all quiet? You'll have to pay for +yourself because of non-treating order, but I'll pay for myself next +round, so that'll be all right." + +Now S.J. was not in the mood to come down from the clouds and drink +brandy with a stranger who had obviously "dined" already, and the +stranger was sharp enough to notice this. Said he: + +"Don't strain yourself to come in here if you're due at the club. +But I'm bound to talk to somebody about my yacht, or else I'll burst, +and I thought you'd do." + +Thoughts snapped and sizzled in S.J.'s brain. + +"A yacht, have you?" + +"Well, I call her that when I want to put on edge. Admirin' friends +describe her as a coffin with the motor too far aft." + +"Thank you," said S.J. Livingstone. "I'll come in with you and have +that cognac." + +"Come along in then, or some sweet young thing will trip along and +ask why I'm not soldierin', and I shall bring the blush to her damask +cheek by explaining how few of my legal set of insides I've got left +on the premises. You unsound, too?" + +"Too old," said S.J., who was thirty-five. "Turned forty-six, I'm +sorry to say, though perhaps I don't look it. How big's this yacht +of yours?" + +"That depends whether you view her with the mellow eye of evening, or +run her over with a cold two-foot rule. Just now I could take her +round the world with a crew of one, and if there was a German to kill +at the far end, I'd take her round twice. Gad, man, I'd give +something to be sound! But it's no use lyin' to those infernal Army +vets. I know. I've tried." + +"It must be beastly. Then she's an ocean-going yacht?" + +"Good heavens, yes, man; though frankly she's a bit damp if there's +much sea runnin'. But in anything like smooth water, if her sparking +plugs are clean, and she's pleased with her mixture, she can kick out +eleven--yes, and up to eleven-point-eight sometimes, as easy as look +at you. And I've just shipped a patent washstand that'll beat the +band. Can't leak in-board however rocky the valves get." + +"Why haven't you hired her to Government?" + +"Because the swine don't know a soft thing when they see one. She +fouled two of their blessed conditions out of eight hundred and +forty-three. It was my own patent balance-rudder that floored her +finally. They said she'd turn turtle if I gave her a hard-over helm +at top speed. Well, so would a loco go smash if you ran it full pelt +into the buffers. It's a thing a man doesn't do, that's all. Damn, +let's clear out of here! That pretty girl with the gold hat there by +the pillar is going to shove a white feather on me. I know it by her +thoughtful eye. And I shall be saying something I shall regret +to-morrow morning if she does. Have you a club anywhere handy?" + +"I haven't a London club." + +"Well, I've a pot-house of sorts in St. James's Street. We'll go +there. Drat that girl." + +* * * * * + +It was a queer and one-sided partnership that was fixed up between +Jew and Gentile that night. The Gentile, who was Sir Thomas Hillcote +(seventh baronet), hankered after nothing except "a bit of sport with +the Germans." The Jew's single idea was to advertise Meltite so +noisily that even the British Government must see the need to buy it +up at maker's terms. + +"Hallo, Tommy!" said a man coming into the club smoke-room. "How's +_Drowning Made Easy_? Still afloat?" + +"No, I've put her on wheels and made her into an armoured car," said +the owner genially. + +"Well, call on me when you want a spare shuvver. My neck's my own at +present. Nobody seems to want it." + +"That's Bell," said Hillcote, as the man carefully picked his way to +a chair at the other side of the room. "He's got locomotor ataxy. +He and I both crocked in the Navy the same week, and got fired out by +a Medical Board on the same day. Rum, isn't it?" + +"Oh, you're a naval gentleman, are you?" said S.J. + +"There's another blow. I've got even Navy rubbed off me now, have I? +As a matter of interest, was it one of our genial archbishops you +took me for? Alack, my fatal gravity of manner." + +"Then you can navigate, and all that?" + +"I was a most promising officer. Every one said it of me. It was a +thing I couldn't avoid. The First Lord sobbed out that now, indeed, +the country would go to the dogs when they lost me. I say, Mr. +Isaacs, I mayn't stand you a drink because of the brutal Laws of the +Land--Section: Treating. But you may absorb mine when I'm not +looking. I've about got my load. My crumbs, but wasn't that a +pretty girl with the gold hat?" + +"If you carry out my scheme, you could marry ten girls with gold +hats." + +"Not 't all, my good chap. I'm not a Turk. But, by Jove, I'll tell +you what! If you'll let old Tinkle Bell chip in, we'll call it a +deal. He's having a filthy time, poor dear, just now, what with pain +and being flinty, and all that, and if he saw a decent chance of +being hung as a pirate, or anything in that line (which is what your +scheme seems to amount to)--excuse me, Mr. Benjamin, if I'm a bit +fuzzy about it--he'd freeze on to it with both claws. By the way, I +suppose you are an Englishman?" + +"Rather! Sorry if you thought I was anything else." + +"Not 't all. But you will waggle your hands in moments of +excitement. Pedigree started in Asia, I suppose. I shall want a bit +of proof that you can deliver those goods in the dynamite line you've +been speaking about----" + +"Meltite." + +"Very likely. Never heard of it. I wasn't one of the scientific +johnnies. I was merely a salt-horse lootenant. Well, prove to me +and old Tinkle that this blowy-up stuff will eat holes in a ship's +plating, as you say, and we'll motor you off to any old point in the +North Sea you care to name till we've sunk all the shipping afloat, +or run out of bombs, or been strafed ourselves, whichever comes +first. Is it a bet?" + +"You're just the gentleman I want. Look here; read that! There's a +full specification of Meltite." + +"Nothing doing, most noble Abraham. I don't care a row of pins for +typewritten matter. The letters jump about so. Nothing but the +genuine article at work will convince us. Let Tinkle and me see that +with a sober morning eye, and we'll get busy with a speed that will +surprise you." + +Sir Thomas Hillcote's motor-boat does not appear in either Lloyd's or +the Yachting Register as _Drowning Made Easy_, but as her real name +brings up other memories, it may here be suppressed. Anyway, amongst +her intimates and acquaintances she is sufficiently well known by her +nickname. + +She was the darling of her owner's heart, and largely the product of +his lamentable inventive faculties. From her misplaced engines to +her ridiculous bow, from her capstan (whose barrel would not bite) to +an enormous balance rudder that would have capsized a battleship, she +was a museum of enthusiastic ideas gone wrong. Ex-Lieutenant Thomas +Hillcote swelled with pride every time she tried to shake him +overboard. Ex-Lieutenant Bell was glad to be at sea once again in +anything that would float. He had been desperately afraid of dying +in his bed these last few weeks, and now, with the low land of the +Thames Estuary dropping into the grey seas astern, the fear was +easing. There was war and work away through the North Sea mists +ahead, and perhaps luck. + +"Can you cook?" S.J. Livingstone was asked. + +"I never tried. I've always been above that sort of thing." + +"Then you've got to learn. You aren't a watch-keeper, and seeing as +how we don't carry a crew this trip, you'll have to cook--and cook +well, or you'll get the foul side of Tinkle's tongue. When we bring +up alongside the enemy you'll be gunnery lootenant, and you take +charge, and we two do as we're told. But till then you're cook, +Father Isaac; and as we're bare Navy in the way of drinks, and +there's no whisky on board, you're to stand-by with hot cocoa +whenever it's wanted. Got that? We'll worry along on cold tin and +biscuit for the rest. But we're not going to be done out of our +lawful cocoa, and don't you forget it. You may be sick between +whiles, though what in thunder you're being sick for in smooth water +like this beats me. Good Lord! there's a busy devil of a destroyer +buzzing up at about fifty knots, and wasting my country's fuel-oil +most scandalously, just to interfere. Here Tinkle, you talk to her, +and tell her we're out after mackerel. Say I'm below, writing to a +lady friend who wears a gold hat." + +Ex-Lieutenant Bell tried to be formal, but was recognized. + +"Haw, haw! you and your mackerel! Glad to see you looking so fit, +Tinkle. You'll be back as a giddy brass-edged commander before the +week's out. Go easy with that wheel, or you'll twist off Tommy's +patent rudder. If you stick to your present course you'll land on to +the feather-edge of my fancy new minefield. You might call me up if +they don't go off, and I'll come and set 'em better. You gay kipper, +why doesn't _Drowning_ carry a pilot? But I suppose that's Tommy. +Trust Tommy for running on a graveyard if there's one handy. You +bear away four points starboard, Tinkle, and you'll live a lot +longer. Keep good." + +The destroyer grunted and bucked, and ran away over the edge of the +horizon at the speed of a railway train. She spread the news amongst +the British sea police patrolling the North Sea, and they in their +turn jeered at the motor-boat, and let her through. An important +small cruiser wig-wagged "Captain's compliments to Sir T. Hillcote, +and he didn't care for mackerel, but would like brace of grouse." An +ugly tug, with a three-inch gun stuck through her towing-bridge, +hailed through a megaphone that she could supply a stale tinned +tongue for bait if fish were not biting freely. A draggle-tailed +motor patrol-boat, whose crew all wore forked beards in polite +imitation of Admiral Tirpitz, offered to bet _Drowning Made Easy_ +three gallons of petrol to a pint of lubricating oil she hadn't got +more than three cylinders firing at that precise moment--and the bet, +for painful reasons, could not be taken. + +"We're making a dreadful stir," said S.J. Livingstone once, between +spasms. "I'd no idea there were so many British ships about." + +"Who did you think ran the North Sea?" Bell asked. "The Germans? +You've been reading the papers, Uncle Reuben. You're entirely wrong. +It's ceased to be the German Ocean quite a lot of months now, and +we've taken possession of it ourselves for keeps. Bring me a bowl of +cocoa, Reuben, hot and gummy, and mind you don't slop it about on the +oilcloth like you did last time. Also bring me of the sandwiches, +cold-dog variety, one; class, non-bendable. I have a twist on me, +Reuben, for the first time for three months. After you have +completed your important duties as steward, you can stand-by, and get +a couple of your torpedoes, or whatever you call 'em, ranged ready +for action. We are not exactly on our cruising ground yet, but +there's a good thick North Sea fog coming down, and you meet all +sorts of funny things in fogs." + +"I don't think I can do it," said S.J. faintly. "This beastly little +boat lurches so, and I've been so sick, I've no strength left." + +The man with locomotor ataxy dropped his drawl, and yapped in the old +style of the quarterdeck. + +"Carry out your orders! This is war-time! If you don't do as you +are told, I will fling you overboard. We've no use here for extra +ballast. If you can't do it yourself, I'll take charge of your +Meltite, or whatever you call it, and make what I can of it myself." + +"You coolly say you'll rob me?" + +"Like a bird. Carry on, now!" + +S.J. Livingstone found himself doing as he was told. These ex-naval +lieutenants at sea were very different people from the thirsty souls +he had talked with in a St. James's Street club, and he suddenly +found himself scared. The attitude of Sir Thomas Hillcote on the +matter clinched things. + +"I resent Mr. Bell's treatment," said S.J., as he was bringing aft +the ordered cocoa. + +"You can resent till you're black in the face," the baronet informed +him cheerfully. + +"And I shall square up for it when I get home." + +"Home! Who's thinking of getting home? We're out here to play games +with Germany, with half the British Fleet standing by ready to +interfere. You haven't a cat-in-hell chance of seeing your happy +home again, Moses, my dear. You carry on and don't worry about the +future, or you'll meet with present trouble that'll cause you pain. +That's a sound tip. Old Tinkle's got the devil of a temper now he's +seedy, and he'll break your arm or crack your jaw as soon as look at +you if you don't carry out orders smartly. I'll help him if +necessary." + +Now I don't think S.J. was a coward, but he was first and foremost a +business man, and he was beginning to regret very much that he had +launched Meltite with these strange associates. His idea, of course, +was (with their help) to advertise the stuff and sell it. Theirs was +an entirely different proposition. They looked forward to doing the +maximum of damage with it--and there their programme ended. They did +not anticipate getting back to England. They had no care whatever +for the future of Meltite or its inventor. The disgusting part of it +was there was no wriggling out of the deal. His earldom, his two +millions, his beautiful enamels---- + +"Below there. Stand-by with those torpedo things. Tommy, bear a +hand to do as Reuben tells you. Neither of you is to use a word of +English. Hear that Reuben? If you let out a word of English I'll +shoot you like a rat. I'll do all the patter: understand? And +Tommy, fish out those German uniform caps for the pair of you. I've +got mine bent." + +S.J. Livingstone went out presently into the cold foggy air on deck +with heavy burdens, and to his amazement saw a German naval ensign +whipping and snapping from the motor-boat's jackstaff, and her wheel +held by a starched and arrogant German officer in whom he could +hardly recognize the late Mr. Bell of St. James's Street. A steamer +of 3,000 tons loomed through the fog, and the motor-boat was edging +down on to her on a parallel course. + +"What steamboat's that?" The hail went in harsh German. + +"Steamship _Rhein_, Rotterdam-Amerika Line, Vanrennan Master, from +Galveston for Rotterdam. Cotton loaded." + +"Heave-to, and I will see if I must sink you." + +"But, thousand devils, Captain, I'm carrying cotton I tell you, and +it's for Germany." + +"That's what I wanted to know. Get out your port boats, and row +clear as soon as you like. I'm coming up to starboard." + +The Dutch skipper danced on his bridge, but his crew carried out the +order without waiting for him to repeat them. Then Bell put the +motor-boat alongside, and S.J. did the rest with the efficient help +of Sir Thomas Hillcote. + +The charge of Meltite was made fast to an electro-magnet, which was +fed by an accumulator of S.J.'s own design. This was not active till +it was clapped against a ship's plating, but once there a switch was +automatically thrown in, and the whole affair clung in place like a +limpet. Simultaneously a small detonator fired the Meltite. + +_Drowning Made Easy_ slid away with a spurting, sputtering spray of +molten iron pursuing her, and a fine firework effect taking place +over her counter. + +"Good Heavens!" said Hillcote. "That fiery stuff is eating the +plating away as if it was so much tissue paper, and inside the hole +things look like a blast-furnace. That's the cotton, I suppose. +Aren't those ducks getting out their boats in a number-one hurry. +There goes the owner down off the bridge to get the ship's papers +before he leaves for home. By gad, look! The deck's catching now. +Aaron, my lad, your stuff's big medicine, but it advertises itself a +bit too much for my taste. We shall have the British Navy round here +with fire-engines and first-aid kit in two jiffs, and we don't want +to meet them. No, not any. Tinkle, my humble friend, bear away to +the cold North for half an hour, and I'll hop below and whoop up the +coffee-mill another knot or so." + +"You might strike that infernal flag before you go; and, here, take +my fancy hat with you." + +They fired a second ship that night, copper-laden, and were fired at +by a third. The third ship carried a profane Yankee officer on her +bridge who had apparently been ruffled by the British Navy in the +immediate past, and said he would see all Germans in hell before he +answered their questions. He backed up his remarks with a .380 +automatic Colt, with which he made remarkably close shooting. Next +day Sir Thomas Hillcote broke down and was put in his bunk. + +"I told you my insides were unreliable," he gasped at them between +spasms. "Leave me the morphia, and I shall be quite merry and +bright. Don't you worry about me, Tinkle. I'll dream about that +girl with the gold hat. You carry on, and Jonadab will help you. +Jon's getting quite a second Nelson with all his experience. Oh, +corkscrews! that was a twinge. I'd take a cast closer in to +Rotterdam if I were you." + +"We've only just about enough petrol to get home on," said S.J. + +"Who wants to get home, my good Jeremiah? There's lots more mischief +to be done out here if all goes well and the British Navy doesn't +butt in. Just think: all this stuff into or out of Rotterdam is for +or from Germany, and because Germany's got a pull in London, the +British Government doesn't interfere." + +"That's true enough," said the man who had run dyewares. + +"Well we, not being politicians, and knowing what's good for the +country, do interfere. That's all. I suppose a lot of pious people +will want to hang us for our pains, but till we are hung we'll go on +with the missionary effort. Tinkle, get busy. There's a steamer +coming. I can feel the vibration of her propeller on my sore liver. +No, propellers; she's twin screw. Hop, you lazy scoundrel, or she'll +be past us." + +"Sir Thomas is bad," said S.J., when they got back on deck. + +"Have you only just found that out? That new fellow's coming towards +us. I'm going to turn round. Mind you don't get shot overboard when +I give her the helm! Here! Stay on deck there, you Reuben. You +needn't worry about Tommy shooting out of his berth. I'll keep him +on the lee side." + +Once more ex-Lieutenant Bell appeared as the complete German naval +officer, and barked his remarks in a foreign tongue. The new ship +was a Swede, out of Rotterdam for New York, full to the hatches with +German leather goods, dyewares, and chemicals. "Those beasts of +English," announced her captain, "are respecting the rights of +neutrals this week, whatever they may do next." + +"Got good freights?" + +The Swede shrugged apologetically. "Well, in war time, illustrious +Herr, we neutrals all look to make a little extra bit. Be +careful--Himmel! be careful; you will run me down." + +"Not a bit of it. I'm not going to rain. It's only a sort of game +like 'Tig' we're playing. Now then Rube. On the port quarter. Clap +on your poultice when I swing her in, and don't get flung overboard +if you can help it. Poor old Tommy's patent rudder's a bit fierce. +Great Scott, man, but you set that fuse mighty short. You'd better +put some oil on those burnt hands before the air gets to them." + +"You German swine," the Swede stormed, "you have set my ship on fire." + +"I hope so, Mr. Neutral. Rather pretty effect, I call it. To see a +big chunk of plating dissolve out into mere sparks and roman candles +is astonishingly pretty to the simple sailorman. I should call away +your boats if I were you, or you'll get wet feet. Excuse my butting +in with advice, but you seem rather to have lost your head, and by +the smell, those leather goods you were bucking about are beginning +to singe." + +Now the night was dark and the night was clear, and it sang with +wind; and the steamboat flamed like a torch; and by the rules of war +_Drowning Made Easy_ should have faded from the scene of her exploit +with all possible speed. But the Swede bungled his boat-lowering +badly, and Bell could not tear himself away. He bawled advice with +an acid tongue, and in the event of the advice not being acted upon +efficiently, he stood by to save life. + +"We shall be seen here," said S.J., frostily. + +"Bound to be. Party in the front seats at the firework show always +is spotted by the whole audience. But a man couldn't clear out +whilst there was a possibility of those fellows frying, unless he was +a dam' German. I'm sure you see that, Rube?" + +"Ye--es," said S.J. Livingstone, and stepped down into the after well +and sat there. Something inside him bumped with heavy foreboding. + +The German submarine must have come up awash, and quietly stalked +them by the light of the burning Swede. + +Bell did not see her till she was close alongside. They called on +him to surrender. He very naturally turned on his power, and tried +to bolt. At the same time he threw into the grey North Sea the last +remaining Meltite firemaker, where it burst into torrid flame, and +exploded in a geyser of fire and steam. Him, after a careful +inspection--a very careful inspection--the Germans shot in six +places. Then they bore down alongside, and made fast. + +The boarding party found Sir Thomas Hillcote dead in a bunk below. +He had bitten through his lower lip because he did not wish to call +out and disturb his two shipmates on deck who were trying to give a +lift to the British Empire. They examined S.J. curiously, inquired +his name, and, on hearing it, transhipped him with politeness. + +One of the officers leaned over Bell, who was very nearly gone. "Ha, +I thought I knew you. We met once at Kiel, if you remember, at the +regatta. I'm sorry, but it's the fortune of war." + +"Don't apologize," gasped the man with locomotor ataxy. "I've got to +windward of the Admiralty--this trip, and died in my boots--at sea. +At sea! I've--had--luck." + +Down below in a clammy cabin in the U-boat, S.J. Livingstone found +himself treated with a curious courtesy that after a while began to +chill. It flashed upon him that cannibals might be similarly +courteous to a missionary that they proposed to--well--attend to +later. These German officers knew his name, the style of his firm in +Bradford, the nature of his proceedings at the British Admiralty, his +rejection by the "bland ass" at the War Office. They mentioned that +eminent officer's name, and could imitate his manner. They even knew +about S.J.'s taste for enamels, and had a catalogue of his more +recent purchases. It was all most uncanny. They gave him his +favourite Pommery to drink. + +They knew all about the powers of Meltite, and recited to him a list +of ships destroyed and a description of what they looked like as they +burned. It was all very accurate, and scientific and, unnerving. An +outside observer would have noticed one curious change in S.J. He +was not the least arrogant now, either in manner or look. I don't +say he cringed, but--well, there was a change. + +They even in a wooden way got on to his pedigree. + +"You are not English? No?" + +"Certainly I am. My name is Livingstone. Unless you call it Scotch." + +"Livingstone? Ah, but before you changed it? What?" + +S.J. kept a sullen silence. + +"Answer me. Was it not Levenstein?" + +"Yes," said S.J. and felt his self-respect oozing from him. + +"So! And now you are going to tell me--pleasantly, and without +pressure--how Meltite is made?" + +"I do not know. I forget." + +"So? Then I hope you like chlorine. Because until you remember, I +shall put you in the compartment with our accumulators which just now +are gassing, and there you will perhaps recover your memory before it +is too late." + +But S.J. Livingstone came of a race that in the past had had teeth +pulled rather than draw cheques which they did not consider lawfully +due, and he coughed, and spat, and choked, but parted with no +formula. He had pretty far gone when the U-boat ran into her home +port, but he showed not the smallest signs of yielding. + +The Germans were eminently business-like. S.J. Levenstein dead was +no use to them. Alive he was full of Melinitic possibilities. So +they kept him alive, and alternately treated him well and vilely. He +was interviewed by small personages and great, all of them in +uniform, some of them polite, most of them overbearing, some of them +proffering gifts, many of them offering threats; but to all of them +he was unyielding! He might be this Levenstein they were talking +about. He might have heard of Meltite. But, anyway, at the moment +he had forgotten the composition of Meltite, if, indeed he had ever +heard it. They could not budge him past that, by either kindness or +cruelty. + +At last he was brought before the Greatest Personage of all, a tragic +twitching cripple, and he set himself out to charm. + +"I understand, Mr. Livingstone that you were a Prussian by birth, a +British subject by early upbringing, and are a cosmopolitan by taste. +Well, it is our loss, because you are a man of ideas. But I am not +going to quarrel with your choice. You have made a great invention +in Meltite. You see I am not going to belittle it. And if I say it +is great, it is great. You offered it to the London Government. +They, being fools, as I have shown many times already, refused it. I +believe they did not even refuse it civilly. You have stated your +price--a million sterling and a peerage. I will give it you." + +"My price is two millions, now that Meltite is proved." + +"Two millions be it. I do not quibble over marks about a thing I +intend to get." + +"There is also the British peerage." + +"I can buy that for you, too--as I have bought for money down other +British titles for my people when I wanted them." + +"Very well, sire," said S.J. Levenstein, "get me from the politicians +an English earldom, and give me two million British pounds sterling, +and I will give you the formula for Meltite." + +"That shall be arranged," said the Greatest Personage, and S.J. was +taught by his guide how to back out from the Presence. + + +There the matter rests for the present. + +S.J. Levenstein (or Livingstone) resides in dignified seclusion and +security in a Prussian castle full of enamels, whilst arrangements +are being made to pay him his price. They feed him on the richest +food he cares to order, and he may bathe in Pommery '06 if he so +desires. + +I wonder if they will succeed? + + + +Printed in Great Britain by Butler & Tanner, Frome and London. + + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78784 *** diff --git a/78784-h/78784-h.htm b/78784-h/78784-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..07cdb32 --- /dev/null +++ b/78784-h/78784-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12987 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + +<head> + +<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + +<link rel="icon" href="images/img-cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + +<meta charset="utf-8"> + +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Captain Kettle on the war-path, +by C. J. Cutcliffe Hyne +</title> + +<style> +body { color: black; + background: white; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +p {text-indent: 1.5em } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 200%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 60%; + text-align: center } + +h1 { text-align: center } +h2 { text-align: center; font-size: 100% } +h3 { text-align: center } +h4 { text-align: center } +h5 { text-align: center } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; + letter-spacing: 2em ; + text-align: center } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +.smcap { font-variant: small-caps } + +p.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</style> + +</head> + + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78784 ***</div> + + +<h1> +<br><br> + CAPTAIN KETTLE<br> + <span style="font-size: smaller">ON THE</span><br> + WAR-PATH<br> +</h1> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + BY<br> +</p> + +<p class="t2"> + C. J. CUTCLIFFE HYNE<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + THIRD EDITION<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + METHUEN & CO. LTD.<br> + 36 ESSEX STREET, W.C.<br> + LONDON<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> + <i>First Published ... May 11th, 1916<br> + Second Edition ..... May 1916<br> + Third Edition ...... October 1916</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> + Copyrighted in the United States by<br> + C. J. CUTCLIFFE HYNE<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> + All rights of translation, dramatic and motion picture rights<br> + reserved<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + TO<br> + E.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="noindent"> + BY THE SAME AUTHOR<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + The Marriage of Kettle<br> + Firemen Hot<br> + Kate Meredith<br> + The Escape Agents<br> + Adventures of Captain Kettle<br> + Mr. Horrocks, Purser<br> + The Filibusters<br> + The Lost Continent<br> + The Little Red Captain<br> + The Recipe for Diamonds<br> + The Paradise Coalboat<br> + Through Arctic Lapland<br> + Further Adventures of Captain Kettle<br> + Thompson's Progress<br> + Captain Kettle, K.C.B.<br> + McTodd<br> + Atoms of Empire<br> + Prince Rupert the Buccaneer<br> + Trials of Commander McTurk<br> + Emperor of The World<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +CONTENTS +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="noindent"> +CHAPTER +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +I <a href="#chap01">The Supply Ship</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +II <a href="#chap02">The Mine-layer</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +III <a href="#chap03">Cotton</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +IV <a href="#chap04">Gun-runners</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +V <a href="#chap05">The Intervening Wire</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +VI <a href="#chap06">Rejoining at Once</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +VII <a href="#chap07">The Lady Killer</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +VIII <a href="#chap08">An Eye for an Eye</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +IX <a href="#chap09">That Rhine Tour</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +X <a href="#chap10">The Inventor of Meltite</a> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> + +<p class="t2"> +CAPTAIN KETTLE ON THE WAR-PATH +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<h2> +I +<br><br> +THE SUPPLY SHIP +</h2> + +<p> +Captain Sir Owen Kettle, K.C.B., +shook his head and sighed. "I have tried +everything, sir, from the Flying Corps to +Motor Transports and R.A.M.C., and not one of +them will have me. They say I've a wooden leg." +</p> + +<p> +"And that's not true," broke in Lady Kettle. +"The Captain's is a high-class American limb +that cost £26 18s., even with the discount. At +least, the one he wore when he tried to enlist was. +He still has his old wooden implement (which +Mr. McTodd made him), but he only wears that +about home here, and when we've no company. +Mr. McTodd meant well, but he made the leg of +Honduras mahogany, and that's too heavy. It's +as good as an extra vest to the Captain when he +wears it." +</p> + +<p> +"I'd like to show you our roses, sir," said Kettle, +by way of getting rid of a painful subject. "We +had mildew on them, but I've syringed them with +a patent mixture of my own, and they're as clean +now as a well-scrubbed deck. I don't mind owning +that the mixture is founded on Quale's Sheep Dip, +but I think I shall be able to get Government +protection for my adaptation of it. I have always +been anxious, Mr. Carnforth, to start in the patent +medicine trade, and this is my first opening. 'Try +Kettline for mildew on your roses.' It would sound +well on the advertisements, especially with a verse +or two of poetry added. I've got quotations +already for space in the <i>Gardener's Friend</i>." +</p> + +<p> +The big politician looked at the little sailor with +a thoughtful eye, and the unprejudiced observer +might have jumped to the conclusion that he was +going to swear. But Mr. Carnforth knew his +Kettle from bitter experience, and passed a cigar +case instead, and in his turn talked roses, their +diseases, their colours, and their culture, till even +Captain Kettle had no further views to offer on +the topic. And, at the finish, said he, "Now, my +man, if you're fed up on flummery, we'll get down +to bed-rock business. Are you open to killing a few +Germans?" +</p> + +<p> +"I haven't got a game ticket, sir, but my +ten-shilling licence covers the killing of vermin." +</p> + +<p> +Martin Carnforth, M.P., grinned. "You're your +little old self. In this case it's the crew of a certain +German submarine, number unknown." +</p> + +<p> +"I've a lot of theories, sir, about the way to +catch submarines. Our Navy——" +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind the Navy, and never mind your +theories for the moment. This is a particular +vessel which is to be off Ireland—North or South, +I don't know which at present—in a month's time, +and I'm not telling the Admiralty about her because +they do nothing. I told the Admiralty before +about a German submarine which would be at a +certain spot within a certain limit of time, and +they said my news was of interest, but policy +forbade them to act upon it. That submarine got +busy. She sank seven big steamers in a week, not +to mention four trawlers. We even owned up to +four of the steamers and a brace of trawlers." +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle was openly shocked. "And you +a Member of Parliament, sir!" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sick and ashamed of it. Parliament talks +and does nothing for fear of losing its votes and its +salaries, and I'm aching to do something. They +won't let me into either of the Services, because they +say I'm too old, and can't see, and am touched in +the wind, and am liable to pains in the carburettor. +So I'm going on my own. I'm going to be a dam' +pirate, and if the Navy catches me trying to help +Great Britain, I suppose I shall hang. Question +is—will you chip in with me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly not," said Lady Kettle. "The +Captain's a respectable gentleman, now." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll come like a bird," said the little sailor—his +red torpedo beard stuck out aggressively. "By +James, Mr. Carnforth, sir, I've been aching to have +a bat at those Dutchmen ever since the war started. +I've only to get my next Sunday's sermon in our +chapel arranged for— +</p> + +<p> +"You can leave me to attend to that, Captain," +said Lady Kettle, and there was a distinct gleam +of triumph in her eye. "I've never been allowed +in the pulpit yet, Mr. Carnforth, but women must +do men's work in this war-time, and if there's a +drop in the collection I'll know who it is that's +short, and she can buy her next week's butter from +Skipton, or where she likes. Not another pound +does she have from this farm." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +We may pass over, then, a voyage across the +Atlantic in the next packet that sailed, and a train +journey through the United States from Jersey +City to New Orleans. In that capital of moist +heat and doubtful drainage they put up at a modest +and inconspicuous hotel, and I regret to say under +assumed names. +</p> + +<p> +"If my name got down here," said Carnforth, +"I should find myself in the papers." +</p> + +<p> +"If mine got out," said Kettle rather awkwardly, +"I'm afraid I should find myself in gaol. You +see, sir, I've been here before. He was only a thief +of a stevedore when we had the bit of trouble, but +he's a political boss now, and Irish, and they say +he's a long memory. But an archdeacon, situated +as I was then, couldn't have resisted giving it that +man on the nose." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, I'll be Mr. Martin, and you—let +me see—you had better be Colonel Owen. You +don't look like a plain mister. And now about +this steamer. My cable says she's the <i>Grüda</i>, +nominally Norwegian owned, and under charter +to a Chicago firm with a German name." +</p> + +<p> +"She's a tanker, sir, about 1,800 tons, twin-screw, +loaded, and alongside the levee this minute." +</p> + +<p> +"Then," said Carnforth, who was a business +man, "the next thing to do is to get passages on +her through the pretence that we've got to leave +here in a hurry. Afterwards, when we have found +out her rendezvous with the German submarine, +we'll take charge." He produced from his pocket +an automatic pistol and a glass tube full of small +tabloids. "If we can't drug the crew with the +chemicals, we'll have to use the cordite." +</p> + +<p> +"I rather object to dope, sir. It leaves an awful +head afterwards, as I know, and doping's not quite +a white man's trick." +</p> + +<p> +"My good Captain, you mustn't be too nice-fingered. +This war with Germany is not run under +Queensberry rules—they've seen to that. We've +got to win, and you can take it from me we shall +have to be all-in to do it." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, sir," said Kettle, with a sigh, "you're a +Member of Parliament, and ought to know; and +anyway you're, so to speak, my owner on this trip. +You give the orders, and I'll see them through." +</p> + +<p> +"Right," said the big man, "that's a bargain. +And now, as you've told me many times you're +bad at fiction, I'll go and beard the skipper on the +<i>Grüda</i>, and bamboozle passages out of him for +the pair of us. I expect it will only be a case of +being able to pay enough." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +To Captain Sir Owen Kettle, K.C.B., who was +anxiously smoking his fifteenth cigar for the day, +Carnforth returned three hours later, flatly +discouraged. +</p> + +<p> +"The captain of that tanker was hopeless. I +appealed to his better feelings, and I appealed to +his pocket, and one might as well have tried to +work on the conscience of an alligator. I tried +the agent: he said if I didn't get to hell quick +on my own accord, he'd send me there. I rang +up the runner who is to supply the crew, and he +said he was full already. And the boat sails with +to-morrow's daylight." +</p> + +<p> +Kettle took his cigar from his mouth and +examined the tip. "And who was the runner, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +"Morrissey. Keeps a flash saloon about two +blocks off Canal Street, on the French side." +</p> + +<p> +"That's luck about Morrissey. Well, Mr. Carnforth, +we might get shipped still, but the method +won't be pleasant." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll stomach anything to get success. What's +the scheme?" +</p> + +<p> +But Captain Kettle would divulge no details. +Only after they had dined, and put in a couple of +hours at a movies show where even a Polar whaling +picture could hardly check the perspiration, he led +with easy assurance through the crowded traffic +of Canal Street to Mr. Morrissey's saloon. +</p> + +<p> +"Seem to know your way," Carnforth commented. +</p> + +<p> +"I've been in New Orleans before," Kettle +admitted. "Evening, Mr. Morrissey." +</p> + +<p> +"By the piper! You! I thought, Captain, +you'd have died of lead-poisoning ten times over +before this. And why are you gladdening N'Orleans? +You haven't a ship here, or even down +at the quarantine station." +</p> + +<p> +"I want a ship. D'you know of one, Morrissey?" +</p> + +<p> +"That takes a bit of thinking over, and I dare +say you don't want to discuss your particular +troubles before the beauty and fashion in the bar +here. Come to my private room. Will you bring +your friend?" +</p> + +<p> +"Please. He wants to ship with me." +</p> + +<p> +"We'll see what can be done. Just shut the +door behind you, Mr.—er—Martin, I think you +said your friend's name was, Captain? Bourbon +or rye? I know you dislike our Scotch, Captain, +because of its Chicago accent, though I always +drink it myself. You see I've a good memory. +Rye for you, eh, and Bourbon for your friend? +Help yourselves. Make it a high-ball, if you like. +Here's the squirt. Mine for the good old Scotch. +You're looking at my nose, Captain, and I tell you +it cost me a lot to have it put straight. But that's +all past and over now, isn't it? Here's chin-chin!" +</p> + +<p> +The saloon-keeper brimmed with affability, and, +to Carnforth's surprise, Captain Kettle was affable +also. He let the gross politician suggest rogueries +and familiarities unspeakable. He allowed himself +to be plied with whisky, and insisted that Carnforth +should drink level. And he insisted on obtaining +from his host promises of future employment +which a child might have known that apoplectic +person had not the smallest intention of making +good. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +From then onwards the evening seemed to fade out. +</p> + +<p> +Carnforth, awaking with a splitting head and a +brazen taste in his mouth, tried to reconstruct the +details of the orgy without success. One thing +he was sure about—he had not been drunk. He +knew his capacity to a glass, and had not been +within a bottle of it. And he was similarly confident +about Captain Kettle. That mariner's iron head +could have seen Mr. Morrissey under the table +three times over. But who had taken him back +to the hotel and put him to bed, and why was the +hotel so full of grumbling, rumbling machinery? +</p> + +<p> +At that point Carnforth waked a trifle more, +stretched himself gingerly (as he found he was a +mass of bruises and aches), and discovered he was +not in the hotel at all. He was in a room that was +warm and smelt of grease, and he was lying on the +wooden floor of a box that reminded him of a +coffin. Then he recognized it as a steamer's +bunk. +</p> + +<p> +"Glad to see you're coming round, sir," said a +voice from the gloom. "Morrissey's done it pretty +thoroughly, hasn't he? The swine's even stolen +my best leg." +</p> + +<p> +"That you, Kettle? D'you know where we +are? Looks to me we're on a steamer." +</p> + +<p> +"We're where we wanted to get. We're on the +<i>Grüda</i>, sir, and by the way her wheel engines are +clattering we must be navigating that twisty bit +below the quarantine station before you get to the +Port Edes pass, and the pilot's nervous of piling her +up on a sand bar. Drat these mosquitoes. Do +you recognize the good old Mississippi smell?" +</p> + +<p> +"Then we've been—what d'you call it—shanghaied?" +</p> + +<p> +"That's right, sir. I guess we asked for it, and +Morrissey very kindly did the rest. A man with a +good memory, sir, Morrissey, and I must own I +did make a bad mess of his nose, that time I attended +to him. Great James! but I have a head and a +mouth on me! I told you, sir, dope was filthy +stuff." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I've lost my stock of that and my gun +as well. It strikes me that now we are here we +can't do any good." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, that'll be all right when the time comes," +said the little sailor. "No use looking for trouble +on ahead, sir. And now I should advise getting a +spell of sleep for as much as we're let, though I +don't suppose that will be for long." +</p> + +<p> +It turned out there were five other drugged +men in the bunks beside them; the <i>Grüda's</i> +errand was not sufficiently popular to enable her +to ship a crew by above-board means; and when +the pilot was dropped by the Port Edes light, and +the steamer lifted to the heave of a brisk Norther +in the Gulf outside, the need for hands became +apparent, and large-booted mates proceeded to +rouse the sleepers after the time-honoured methods. +</p> + +<p> +All grumbled, and all were driven. Martin +Carnforth, Esq., M.P., found that his name was +Olsen and his destiny the stokehold. He went +there, escorted by a volley of kicks. Kettle, after +being yanked violently out of his bunk on to the +iron deck below, was discovered to be a cripple, +and was virulently abused for this misfortune. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll knock the stuffing out of Morrissey next +time I see Noo Orleans," said the <i>Grüda's</i> +mate, "for charging me for a whole man and only +shipping a half one. Get up, you unipod." +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle was yanked back to the vertical, +and lost the remains of his temper. His skilled +fingers shot out and seized a handful of the Mate's +shaggy hair, and with that leverage he banged the +man's head against an iron stanchion till he howled +for mercy. +</p> + +<p> +"Will you promise to treat me decently whilst +I'm on this ship if I don't kill you now?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ja——si——yes. What coundymans was you? +You're name's nod Schlich." +</p> + +<p> +"Seems that's the name I was shipped under, +and therefore it's good enough for you. Where's +my jury leg?" +</p> + +<p> +"If it was worth a nickel, Morrissey's got it. +An' he's beyond reach. We don' carry no spare +legs in our slop-chest, but I'll have Chips make you +one right now, and when you've got that shipped, +you'll turn to as pantryman. Unnerstan'? Say +'sir' when you answer me." +</p> + +<p> +"Aye aye, sir," said Captain Kettle cheerfully, +and the mate, keeping a wary eye on him, backed +out of the forecastle. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>Grüda</i> crossed the Mexican Gulf amongst +silvery flying fish and islands of amber-yellow +weed, rounded Florida with its screw-pile lights, +and swirled North with the Gulf Stream. She +bellowed her way through the fogs on the Banks, +and missed a Miquelon fishing schooner by the short +hairs. And then she butted her stolid path across +the Western Ocean, exuding smells of petroleum +and fried onions. +</p> + +<p> +Her pantryman did his work, and called little +attention to himself. His immediate master, the +cabin steward, himself an untidy creature, +commented on his frequent drawings of clothes from +the slop-chest. +</p> + +<p> +"You'll have no wages to pouch at the far +end if you put so much on your back," said the +steward. +</p> + +<p> +"I know," said Kettle. "But I like to feel clean +and neat. Where is the far end? I haven't the +muzziest notion of where I signed on to." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, 'Kjobnhavn or orders,'" said the steward. +"Probably 'orders'!" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't believe there's a soul on board knows +where we're bound for," said Captain Kettle to +Carnforth that night as they sat together on the +poop companion. +</p> + +<p> +"What, not even the skipper?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not even the captain, sir. At least he's a liar +if he does. According to Mr. Mate, we're heading +about for the middle of Ireland—say Limerick. +I heard Mr. Mate ask the Old Man at tea to-night +if that was our port, and the Old Man said he knew +no more than the ship's tom cat." +</p> + +<p> +But next day a new development showed itself. +A span of wires was hoisted between the two mast-heads, +and presently the crackle and spit of wireless +broke out from the chart-house. For another +day nothing happened, and the <i>Grüda</i> loafed +along at a steady half-speed. Then orders sharp +and insistent evidently arrived out of space, and +the tanker swung off on to a new course. +</p> + +<p> +"Now we shan't be long," said Carnforth when +he came off watch, and the pair were for a minute +alone together. "I'm hanged if I can see what we +can do. Have you managed to pinch a gun?" +</p> + +<p> +"It's rather astonishing, sir, but I don't think, +there's such a thing on board. They're an amazing +lot of haymakers. We must tackle them, when the +time comes, without that." +</p> + +<p> +"Then you have a scheme?" +</p> + +<p> +"I've ten, sir, but I don't know yet which will +come into use. We must 'wait and see,' as you +politicians say when your heads are empty of ideas." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I'm going to do something. I'll set fire +to the petrol as the submarine's taking it on board, +sooner than she shall go off with it. I suppose we +shall get killed, but I'm not going home with nothing +done." +</p> + +<p> +"We shall not get killed, Mr. Carnforth, sir, and +we shall do in the beastly Dutchmen all right. I +make a point, sir, of never getting killed. If you +fix in your mind beforehand that you are going to +do your job and come through safe, you'll do it. +I've proved that a hundred times, so I know. The +main thing that's troubling me is Kettline." +</p> + +<p> +"Is what?" +</p> + +<p> +"That mixture of mine that is such death to +mildew on roses. Lady Kettle was, as you know, +sir, a business lady before I knew her, and she's +been a business lady most of her life since. But +you know what the sex is when it comes to bucking +about gardens. If any one says how clean our +roses are, she'll think no more about giving away +the recipe than you would about telling your fellow +politicians the name of your favourite throat +tabloid." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Carnforth impatiently. "I don't +see that it matters." +</p> + +<p> +"It matters all the time, sir. If that recipe +goes to the wrong ear there's my patent jumped +before you can say 'slug.' It's taken me ten years +hard gardening, sir, to bring that mixture to its +present perfection, and now I'm likely to have had +all my trouble and chemistry for nothing." +</p> + +<p> +"Better ask the skipper for the loan of the +wireless," said Carnforth sarcastically, "and ring +up your wife and tell her to take care." +</p> + +<p> +"By James, sir," said Kettle, "that's a sound +idea. The minute we've sunk that submarine I'll +do it. But, for the time being, the submarine +comes first, before," he added regretfully, "before +even roses. Curse these Dutchmen. They're +always getting in the way of something, and always +will, I suppose, till they're all wiped out. Well, +sir, there are a lot of wipers knocking about the +world just now, that's one comfort." +</p> + +<p> +Carnforth was tired and stiff with his unaccustomed +work. He got up rustily. "Well," he said, +"wait and see is all right, I dare say, for our tin-pot +politics, but it is rather a poor sort of prescription +for the serious business of war. Can't you give me +something better to go on?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir, I can. This ship is fitted with iron +belaying-pins, and they're many of them loose. +Learn to an inch where the loose ones are, so that +you can always lay your hand on the nearest, either +by night or day, without a wink-time's waste. If +you have to hit with one, hit to kill. This is red +war we've ahead of us, Mr. Carnforth, and it's +either us or them, and don't you forget it, because +they won't. Great James, there's my bell. I +must go." +</p> + +<p> +Three times the <i>Grüda</i> changed her course in +answer to the invisible orders, which gave a hint +that the boat they were hurrying towards was not +waiting for them placidly. Once all heads were +drawn to the rail by the sight of a wrecked trawler's +dinghy, and a patch of floating fish-boxes, and +another time they steamed through a stinking, +hobbling shoal of drowned and bloated mules. +Three drowning cattlemen sailed with the mules as +a sightless guard. +</p> + +<p> +Here were signs enough of the outskirts of war, +but the <i>Grüda's</i> company remained placid. They +were neutrals; if a British warship visited them +their papers were all in order; and, for the rest, +it was their full right to sail the seas and gather +kroner whilst they might. +</p> + +<p> +Then the wireless spoke again, and the scent +grew hotter. Word was given to the engine-room +that from then till the business was over the fullest +head of steam was to be kept ready for instant use, +and the devil take fuel consumption. Two +derrick-booms were slung overside and their goose-necks +dropped into sockets riveted on to the ship's plating +ready for them. The booms had lifts and braces +so that the submarine could be moored between +them, and lie there snugly alongside without danger +of some sudden western ocean swell rolling the +steamer down on the top of her. Oil hoses were +ranged, pumps given a trial run, hoists rigged, and +all made coolly ready. +</p> + +<p> +The Norwegian captain had little to say in all +this. The wireless man took over complete charge, +and the ship's company were given to understand +that here was the complete Prussian Naval Officer +who could and would deal out death, if necessary, +without an afterthought. He, at any rate, would +have a revolver handy somewhere, and Captain +Kettle—the ship's pantryman—puzzled as to where +the man had it stowed. But the <i>Grüda's</i> crew +regarded the Prussian with bovine unconcern. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly out of the near horizon the submarine +leapt into sight at nineteen knots. She swooped +down, turning in a narrow circle, and made fast +cleverly to the booms that were waiting for her. +Captain Kettle mentally took off his cap to the +smartness of her seamanship. +</p> + +<p> +She was an uncouth devil of a vessel with low +freeboard and ugly excrescences along her decks, +especially amidships, and she bristled with dirty, +scrubble-bearded men who knew exactly what to +do, and did it at the double. Six of them came on +to the tanker, all shod with especially heavy +knee-boots, which they used mercilessly on the +Norwegians—particularly on the boot-using mates and +skipper—whenever the speed of work was not +entirely up to their standard. One with Zeiss +binoculars round his neck was bowsed up to the +foremast truck, and swung there on a bo's'n's chair, +and peered round, and declared the seas empty. +The rest of them saw to passing the oil hose, and +to whipping up Whitehead torpedoes out of the +carrier's hold, and gingerly transhipping these +across to their own craft. +</p> + +<p> +A grimy stoker crept out of the alleyway into +the pantry and hissed a whisper into the pantryman's +ear. "Good God, man, you see what they +are doing. Are we going to do nothing?" +</p> + +<p> +The pantryman cocked his red-pointed beard +truculently. "What can we do?" he snapped. +</p> + +<p> +"Go and bash in an end of one of those Whiteheads, +and send the whole outfit of us to hell +together. I'll do the trick. It's worth it." +</p> + +<p> +"The torpedoes won't have their heads filled. +They'll do that after transhipment." +</p> + +<p> +"Then what are you going to do?" +</p> + +<p> +"To use your phrase, sir, you must 'wait and see.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, to the devil with your politics," said +Carnforth, M.P., and flung off in a black rage. +</p> + +<p> +Once from the look-out at the tanker's masthead +came an alarm (in German, of which Captain +Kettle could only grasp the general sense), and +work went on at a still more furious pace, though +the submarine was ready to slip and be away at a +moment's notice. As certain people, on their +friend, the neutral, seemed restive, they cast loose +the two 3-inch guns they carried forward and aft, and +trained them point blank on the <i>Grüda's</i> bowels. +They were unmannerly brutes, these Germans, but +in the business of war they were eminently +business-like. Their motto was, "Win somehow, +anyhow. Explain away awkward details afterwards." +</p> + +<p> +The Whiteheads got handed down without mishap, +but an unpleasant incident came about through the +passing across of a 3-inch shell. Either one of the +maltreated Norwegians set the fuse for short time, +or there was a jar that upset the nerves of the high +explosive inside, or some other trifle outside the +ordinary routine occurred; the present deponent +is ignorant of the details; but, anyway, the result +was an explosion, half-hearted perhaps, still, +anyway vehement enough to kill outright two German +sailors, and seriously damage a third. +</p> + +<p> +A crisp order spat out from the conning-tower, +and all three were booted over into the Atlantic, +and work went on in its smooth routine. The +officers of the submarine had no use for either the +dead or the inefficient. +</p> + +<p> +When they were filled up with fuel and ammunition, +they demanded food and drink—especially +drink. The Norwegian captain had no order for +this, and objected. A second afterwards that +Norwegian captain was focusing both his eyes +down the black hole which exists in the middle of a +revolver barrel. Expert collectors raided pantry +and storerooms, and the <i>Grüda's</i> pantryman +helped them. The pantryman was thinking hard, +but didn't see his way to resist just then. The +pantryman was addressed in German, but not +having a good command of that tongue, replied in +fluent Arabic, which he thought at the moment +was less dangerous than English. In the distance +a rugged black-faced stoker danced and raged, but +the pantryman declined to see him. +</p> + +<p> +Finally, when their ship was full of fuel, and +munitions, and provisions, the Germans decided +they might stretch their limbs and their lungs. +They were taking no chances, but as their man +at the <i>Grüda's</i> foremast head reported the sea +all round as still clear, they hauled up the chief +engineer's two-and-a-half octave harmonium on +deck, and a professional pianist amongst them +played waltz tunes. The rest danced. They danced +heavily (being shod with knee boots), and danced +ungracefully, but they danced with energy, as +beseems men who were keeping in condition entirely +for the good of their Empire. When they slackened +at all in their dance, one or other of their officers +beat them brutally with a knotted rope's end. +</p> + +<p> +The German officers sat on the engine-room +skylight, and drank Milwaukee beer, which was the +only liquor other than water remaining in the +<i>Grüda's</i> store, and smoked their own cigars. +They drank this thin lager to the waltz music at +such a rate that the cabin steward had to call up +his pantryman to help open the bottles; and they +sat till they had finished the stock; their crew, be it +well understood, being still employed in that heavy +athletic dance. +</p> + +<p> +When no further bottles were forthcoming the +German captain gave the order for all of his hands +to get aboard, and followed them himself, nimbly +enough, the submarine lying on the port side of +the supply ship, and curtsying decorously between +the booms to which she was tethered fore and aft. +</p> + +<p> +The Norwegian captain, insulted, flushed, and +ashamed, mounted to his own bridge, and there +was present with him also just the quartermaster +at the wheel. On the decks of the submarine men +were battening down the hatches which received +the Whiteheads, the stores, and the petrol. Other +hands were standing-by the head and stern-fasts. +She was quite ready to be off again on her cheery +game of murder. +</p> + +<p> +The German captain, somewhat gravid with +the beer, climbed by the outside beckets to the +deck of the conning-tower, and then gave the +word to "let go forrard." +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Captain Kettle arrived on the +<i>Grüda's</i> upper bridge. There was no mistaking +him for the ship's pantryman, and the Norwegian +captain did not so mistake him. He limped (because +of his carpenter-made wooden leg), he was dressed +in steward's kit, but the Norwegian's words were: +</p> + +<p> +"What do you here, captain?" +</p> + +<p> +There was no time for argument—or for losing +the benefit of the surprise. Captain Kettle threw +the Norwegian skipper violently down the ladder, +laid out the quartermaster with a scientific jab on +the point of the jaw, and slammed down the +telegraph of the starboard engine to "Full speed ahead." +</p> + +<p> +The German captain of the submarine, to give +him his due, saw the whole thing as soon as it was +done—and two seconds of time covered it from +first to last—and acted on the tick. He also +ordered "Full speed ahead," and though his engines +(being Diesels) were a shade slower in responding, +the mass of his vessel was far less than that of the +<i>Grüda</i>, and he got way on her far more swiftly. +In the meantime he whipped out an automatic +pistol, and bombarded Kettle with vicious energy. +</p> + +<p> +That small mariner, however, had the height +of the <i>Grüda's</i> bridge in comparison with the +low freeboard of the submarine in his favour, and +with the wheel in his hands, as soon as his tanker +gathered steerage way, had the game his own way. +Steamer and submarine met nose to nose almost, +as the gap between them grew smaller; and the +<i>Grüda's</i> forefoot scraped down the war vessel's +side, unshipping her starboard diving rudders, +and disarranging her fittings generally; and then +Kettle rang on both engines, and the submarine's +stern sank under the pressure, and the larger ship +lifted, and drove over the top of her. +</p> + +<p> +The submarine's conning-tower hatch was still +open, and if she had been allowed due time she +would have filled and sunk. But as frequently +happens at sea, the unforeseen intervened. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>Grüda's</i> forefoot dinged in one of her +adversary's plates, which in its turn depressed a +stringer, which impinged on one of her stern +torpedo-tubes. The inbending of the tube pressed +home the striker of the Whitehead inside it, and +Vesuvius burst forth in the Atlantic off the Irish +Coast. The yell of the explosion was loud enough to +split Heaven. The submarine was a mere magazine +of high explosives, and the firing of the first +Whitehead, in-board, touched off all the lot. +</p> + +<p> +When things calmed down again there was no +submarine, or trace of one, the <i>Grüda</i> was badly +by the head, and obviously settling down for good, +and a black-faced stoker was on the upper bridge +rather hysterically demanding of high Heaven how +Captain Kettle dared do all these things without +consulting him. Captain Kettle from somewhere +had procured a cigar, which he carried, cocked +high in the starboard angle of his mouth, and from +which he was smoking complacently. He was +feeling that pleasant satisfaction which comes to a +man after a good morning's work. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>Grüda</i>, as it turned out, descended to the +sea-floor much more hurriedly than anyone +expected. "The forward bulkhead will keep her +up," said everybody, but either she was holed aft +of that, or the forward bulkhead gave—which, I +do not know, and am not going to dive to the +Atlantic floor to discover. Anyway, she started +to sink with alarming suddenness, and the port +quarter life-boat's falls proved to be rotten, and +emptied out her people just before she reached the +water. The starboard life-boat was lowered +successfully, but would take neither Kettle nor Carnforth, +though why they objected to Carnforth I fail to +see. However, the wireless man, who said he was +a Prussian, and who carried a revolver (and who +showed it to them then) declined to allow their +coming on board, and that starboard boat rowed +off in sulky silence. +</p> + +<p> +"We'd better haul up the other boat and +provision her," said Carnforth, who was always cool +at sea, even if he was invariably ignorant of seafaring +matters. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid there's no time, sir," said Captain +Kettle politely. "If you will follow me down the +falls we'll try and unhook and then swim away +before this steamboat founders and sucks us down +with her. Incidentally, when the cold water gets +to the boilers they will collapse, and may blow her +up any minute." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh Lord, man, don't wait to talk," said Carnforth, +and slid down one fall whilst Kettle gained +the water by the other. And promptly they both +swam at the full of their speed away from the danger +spot, though when the man with two legs found he +was distancing the man with one, he pretended +tiredness and eased his pace. +</p> + +<p> +But the tanker was not long in her agony. She +blew out her decks quite decorously, reared to the +vertical, and sank with hardly a bubble. +</p> + +<p> +"And now," said Captain Kettle, "about-ship, +sir, please, and we'll try and right that boat." +</p> + +<p> +So back they swam, heavily and wearily (being +more than middle-aged men), and reached the boat +some five minutes after each had decided he could +swim no longer, but would hang on just to encourage +the other man. They clung to the boat's life-lines, +panting, half delirious with fatigue and chill, but with +pluck and stamina pulling them gradually round. +</p> + +<p> +At last, just as Carnforth was beginning to put +in a suggestion that they should try and right the +boat, there came a fresh surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>W-s-s-h. Sp-l-o-s-sh!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>W-s-s-h. C-r-r-ash!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"My Great James!" said Kettle, "that's shellfire," +and worked himself round to the other side +of the boat to see further. Then he came back again, +and—— "Keep your head down, sir," said he. +</p> + +<p> +"There's another Dutch submarine turned up." +</p> + +<p> +"What's she firing at?" +</p> + +<p> +"Those wretched Sowegians in the starboard +life-boat. She's sunk the lot of them, and now +she's motoring away." +</p> + +<p> +"The brutes! Their own friends, too! The +unspeakable brutes. My God, that's the way +Germans make war!" +</p> + +<p> +"Dead men tell no tales, sir. They thought +those Sowegians knew too much. We can thank +the Lord, sir, they saw this boat was wrong side up. +We'll wait, if you please, till they're hull-down +before we try to right her." +</p> + +<p> +How that port life-boat was turned on to her +keel again, baled, and navigated to the distant +Irish Coast, I do not propose to record here, as +there is another tale connected with it which would +be too long in the telling. But a conversation +between Captain Kettle and Mr. Carnforth whilst +they were thawing themselves out with bad whisky +and a peat fire after their landing hangs in my +mind. +</p> + +<p> +"Is there a telegraph office here, Pat?" asked +the M.P. +</p> + +<p> +"There is then, yer 'annar," said the landlord. +"It's the best in Ireland when the lines is working." +</p> + +<p> +"Good, then, I'll get off a wire." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll be obliged, sir," said Captain Kettle, "if +you'd let me send a message first. I want to get +early word to my wife to keep quiet about that use +of Quale's Sheep Dip for roses. It is highly important +she shouldn't talk on the subject. I want you +to understand this means a lot to me, sir." +</p> + +<p> +Carnforth was shaken with a gust of laughter. +"Oh, go on, man, by all means," he said at last. +"I was only going to tell the Admiralty about our +bag, and they'll probably want to hang us for +piracy and for doing what they hadn't the sense to +think of. But don't you worry about me. Your +message is far more important." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> + +<h2> +II +<br><br> +THE MINE-LAYER +</h2> + +<p> +The <i>Grimsby Twins'</i> otter trawl was +down, scratching up fish from the Dogger +below, and John Henry Shepherd, the +elder of the twins, was smoking in the wheelhouse, +and keeping the little steamboat approximately on +her course. Arthur Cleethorpes Shepherd, his +brother, and the only other hand on deck, was +seated with his back against the main hatch, +reading war news from a stale copy of the <i>Grimsby +Gazette</i>. +</p> + +<p> +To them came the strains of ecclesiastical music +from the cabin skylight, proving that Captain +Shepherd was awake, and was working his way +through Messrs. Moody and Sankey's "Collection +of Hymns." The steam trawler <i>Grimsby Twins'</i> +harmonium had a compass of two octaves only, +but Captain Shepherd was a resourceful man, and +when his music encroached beyond these narrow +limits, he whistled the missing notes with his own +lips, very efficiently. Mixed with the music that +came from the skylight there drifted a fine aroma +of onions, hinting that tea (with fried cod sounds) +was under way, and that presently the watch +would be changed. +</p> + +<p> +"'Ote fresh i' t' paper, Clee?" called out John +Henry. +</p> + +<p> +"Aye, they're asking for more hands for them +trawlers they've set on at mine-sweeping. I wish +to God the old man would let us go." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, he won't," said the elder twin in a husky +whisper. "Said only just now when I took the +wheel from him that all war was a crime and a +mistake, and recommended me when she was +steering easy to put up a bit of prayer to be +delivered from the sin of wanting to chip in. I've a +durn good mind—— Hey, Clee, what's that +packet coming out of the mist ahead there?" He +grabbed the binoculars from their box, and +clapped them to his eyes. "It's a Grimsby man +GY. 4696! Why there's no such number." +</p> + +<p> +"Looks to me more like a Dutch boat." +</p> + +<p> +"Looks to me like that Lowestoft craft, the +<i>Bishop Something</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Bishop Argles</i>. That's her. You can tell +by that fancy vane Old Man Argles shipped on +his fore-truck. But she's strangely mucked up. +Those Lowestoft fellows have the queerest ideas +of fishing. What for have they got that big derrick +rigged aft?" +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * +</p> + +<p> +It was at this moment the steam trawler <i>Grimsby +Twins</i> struck the mine. She had missed it with +her bows by a good fathom, but the drag of the heavy +trawl warp over the quarter made her gait somewhat +crab-wise, and with the help of a lifting +swell she dropped down on the infernal machine +almost amidships, so that one of its strikers was +rammed thoroughly home by a downward blow +from her starboard bilge keel. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Shepherd's first intimation of disaster +was being plucked from the harmonium stool by +some unseen force, and flung violently against the +cabin roof. The yell of the explosion, and the +crash of smashing steel and iron came to him next, +and by the time he had fallen back to the cabin +floor, the stink of the yellow melinite fumes was +making him cough and choke. The companionway +was gushing wreckage and seawater, and he +reached the deck by a scramble through the skylight. +</p> + +<p> +His vessel was in two halves. Already the +forward half was cruising away drunkenly by +itself, with four dazed fishermen hanging on to the +windlass; the poop end was sinking visibly; +and in the churning water between the two, there +swirled about the dead and shattered bodies of +his two twin sons, one of them headless. +</p> + +<p> +Ice was hot compared with the trawler's skipper's +coolness then. In an instant of time all that he +loved in the world, and all that he owned in the +world was plucked from him. He did not whimper; +he did not, after the manner of his kind, bombard +heaven and all beneath it with furious curses; +instead he gazed with stolid eyes at the other +trawler looming through the mist ahead, and +nodded slowly. +</p> + +<p> +"It's what they said," he muttered, "and what +I wouldn't believe—mines sown broadcast over +the North Sea by those dog-begotten Dutchmen. +O God, forgive me for not believing before what the +British Government said, and give me life to pay +back a bit of what I owe. Amen." +</p> + +<p> +After which prayer he jumped overboard and +swam to the <i>Grimsby Twins'</i> boat, which had +been blown clear and floated undamaged. Then +he clambered into her, and set about rescuing +those of his men who still floated about on wreckage. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * +</p> + +<p> +The council of war which decided the fate of +some 3,000 men, and (it is said) no less than five +German ships of war, took place in the trawler's +jolly boat some twenty minutes later. There +were seven men on board of her, including Captain +Shepherd, as survivors of the fishing steamer's +complement, and two of them were wounded, +one badly. Amongst them, also wet and miserable, +and with his fur stained yellow by the explosive, +was Joe, the trawler's cat. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose most of you think that good old +Grimsby's the place we want to see next?" began +Captain Shepherd. +</p> + +<p> +"You pet," said Olssen, the Third Hand. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm no' sure," said McCrae, Chief Engineer, +looking hard at his superior officer. +</p> + +<p> +"You're thinking of Jimmy, Mac?" suggested +Captain Shepherd. +</p> + +<p> +"I am, Cap. He was ma' sister's son." +</p> + +<p> +"And he's now down—or parts of him are—amongst +the cod on the Bank below. Olssen, your +brother's not here, either?" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Nein.</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"Nor your boy, Dick?" +</p> + +<p> +"He was smashed to a pulp, with young Olssen +by the winch falling on them," said old Dick. He +clutched at a sob in his throat. "A splendid lad +he was, too, the young beggar. And there were +your two pups and all, skipper. I saw them go +out, too, in the middle of that stinking yellow +smoke. We've always been a bit of what you might +call a family ship. Very comfortable, too, and no +trouble ever that meant anything. I'm sorry them +cod sounds I was frying for you was wasted, chaps." +</p> + +<p> +Captain Shepherd nodded to the compliment, +and then hit the gunwale a hard blow with his fist +to call the meeting to business. "Look here, men. +We've all suffered, and we've got to get busy if +we're going to show ourselves better than Joe and +do anything besides meauling. I'll own up I've +been a man with a wrong idea. I've been led +away by a discourse once given in our chapel which +said that at bottom the Dutchmen were fellers +just like ourselves, and only wanted a bit of +argument and some prayers to make them reasonable. +That's wrong. What they want is hell, and I'm +the man to give it them. Do you come in on the +usual share terms as arranged for this fishing fleet?" +</p> + +<p> +"If we were fitted as a man-o'-war," said McCrae +cautiously, "I'd be wi' ye on the nod." He +indicated with the wave of a hand the heavily built +boat that carried them lumberingly over the +fog-covered swells. "This is all I can see beyond the +end of ma' neb at present. But perhaps you've a +scheme, Cap?" +</p> + +<p> +"Aye," said Captain Shepherd heavily, "I +have what you might call a strategy in my head. +Man and boy I've fished the Dogger (with short +holidays in the Iceland seas) these forty years, +and I know it, sea-bank and sea-top, better than +most. I know the ways of the cod, I know the +thoughts of the men that fish them, and I know +the tracks of the shipping, come fog, come fine, as +a North Sea fisherman should. I got but one +short look at yon spawn of Beelzebub that was +laying those mines from Tommy Argles' boat—I +bet some language came out when they cut +Tommy's throat, by the way—and she was steering +North an' by East to half a tick-tack. Now do +you see the scheme?" +</p> + +<p> +They didn't. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Shepherd went on patiently to explain. +"They'll lay one line of mines across the ship +track from South to North, and then when they've +covered it they'll turn and lay another parallel +to it, so that a ship that misses one line will be +gathered by the next." +</p> + +<p> +McCrae held up a brown hand and spat into +it. "That's sound metapheesics. Cap, it's a +pleasure to listen to ye. Go on." +</p> + +<p> +"We'll pull out West from here; we'll with God's +help miss the mines in the first line—and fellers +you can take it from me, He will help us—and +we'll wait for Mister Blessed Murder-Spreader as +he comes down on his next trip. Then we'll get +aboard and attend to his people, and when we've +done that, I'll tell you what we'll do next. Any +objections?" +</p> + +<p> +They looked at one another thoughtfully, and +conned the matter over. Your East Coast fisherman +is always a mightily independent person, +and sees to it that his private opinion has full +weight. But there was no amendment, and the +heavy boat was got under way. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Shepherd, wooden-faced and silent, +tucked his arm over an oar in the stern notch and +steered. As utensils of navigation, he had a +watch-chain compass, a big silver watch, and his nose, +and he held a course through the fog as +unfalteringly as a keeper might tread across familiar +heather. Thrice they saw steam trawlers from +Hull and Grimsby and Scarboro'; once they were +hailed; but they made no attempt to break their +voyage, or even to give hint of its purpose. They +were all of them silent except Joe, the cat. Joe +having less control than his betters, spat and swore +aloud as he licked the yellow melinite stain from +his salty fur. +</p> + +<p> +"We don't want the Navy butting in," Captain +Shepherd had said as an afterthought; "we'll +make this a fisherman's job; and if afterwards +they say we're a pack of pirates, well, I hope they'll +have to own we're efficient pirates. The dead were +our dead, and we're going to arrange the funeral +ceremony without help or interference. Spell-o +at those oars. Two of you other fellers take a +turn now." +</p> + +<p> +The mine-laying trawler crossed their track on +its return trip exactly as Captain Shepherd had +calculated, and though her look-out saw them and +commented, the officer in charge made no attempt +to slow down or pick them up. But some such +courtesy as this had been anticipated; the boat +lay in the steamer's track, stern to bow, and at full +pressure on her oars; and under Captain +Shepherd's handling she presently rasped down the +trawler's side. Men who spend their lives boarding +fish on to the carriers in all varieties of North Sea +weather are impossible to beat at that sort of +game. +</p> + +<p> +What followed was by no means massacre. The +seven men tumbled over on to the mine-cluttered +decks without resistance, certainly, the cat following +them; they had two iron belaying pins amongst +them, and quickly picked up other weapons; +but if it had not been for the surprise of their +boarding they would have been driven over into +the sea whence they came in quick time. But +the surprise gave them the first start, and their +toughness and the wild ferocity of their attack +did the rest. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Shepherd found an axe, and wielded it +bloodily. They cleared the main deck under a +spray of revolver bullets from an officer in the +pilot house. Captain Shepherd went for him, +ignoring the revolver, and got the axe well home on +his right shoulder blade. He clove him through +to the middle. There was no asking for or giving +quarter on the English side, and when two or three +of the Germans threw up their hands in surrender +they were merely clubbed and slung overside as +though they had been dog-fish. +</p> + +<p> +The invaders cleared the decks of Germans, +and then went below to forecastle, engine-room +and cabin, and killed there, leaving only two alive. +These two were English and in the stokehold, and +heard hard things from their saviours about +Englishmen who even under duress work for Germans +and do not kill them. "So back to your kennel, +you whipped pups," said Captain Shepherd at +the end of his discourse on their personal +appearance and behaviour, "and keep a full head of +steam. We're away to the S'uth'ard and East'ard +on pressing business.... Are you other fellers +all sound? Where's Albert Henry?" +</p> + +<p> +"Albert Henry got a bayonet in his stomach, +and clapped his arms round the Dutchman that +put it there and jumped with him into the ditch." +</p> + +<p> +"And I think Hull Harry died just as we boarded. +He must have been worse hurt than we guessed +at when the <i>Twins</i> blew up." +</p> + +<p> +"That leaves five," said Captain Shepherd. +"You, Olssen, take the wheel. Your course is +Sou' East 'n by East. Mac, get below and learn +up the coffee mill, and rub the fear o' God into +those putty-livers that are firing her. And the +rest of you swill down decks. I'm going to worry +out how these mines are launched, and I want a +clear head for it, so don't any of you fellers disturb +me.... Oh yes, and there's one other thing. +One of you hunt up a Dutch ensign: they're +bound to have one aboard: and get it bent on +to the signal halyards and ready to break out +if any of their cruisers overhaul us." +</p> + +<p> +The fishermen obeyed these orders none too +promptly. They were all of them more or less +cut and scratched, and to start with they gave +one another rough first aid. Then (at Dick's +suggestion) they raided galley and larder and +pocketed a meal; and then (with food to refer +to between whiles) they started to work, and each, +according to the North Sea habit, set himself to +do two men's toil. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime Captain Shepherd, who had +never in his life seen a floating sea-mine, either +on a ship's deck or elsewhere, set to work to puzzle +out from the mass of boiler-iron and steel cable +before him how he could sink, burn, and destroy +his hated enemies without blowing up the steam +trawler <i>Bishop Argles</i> in the process. After he had +done a given amount of execution he did not in +the least mind what became of her or for that +matter of himself or his crew. He was a man now +entirely reckless, and if he gave a thought for his +mates, concluded they were the same. He had +received irreparable injury: the bigger injury he +could do to any German in return, the happier +he would die: that was all. +</p> + +<p> +The ravelling out of the plan for a fleet of floating +sea-mines is no job for an amateur. But Captain +Shepherd was not the ordinary layman in this +matter. He was a North Sea fisherman, which +is as much as to say that he was mechanic, sailorman, +carpenter and rule-of-thumb scientist +combined, and he picked up intelligently the details +of mooring tackle, riding cables, depth adjustment, +striker adjustment, and all the rest of the +intricate detail. He reasoned it out piecemeal +from A to Z, and back again tediously from Z to +A, slurring over nothing, concentrating thoughtfully +on every doubtful point till it became entirely +clear. Now and again Joe bumped a sympathetic +nose against his leg, and he always pulled the +cat's tail gratefully in recognition of the attention. +</p> + +<p> +The North Sea too was kind to them in being +comfortably covered with fog. In fine weather +Captain Shepherd was no better navigator than +any other man who has grasped the truths of +Norie's Epitome. But in a thick grey blanket of +fog, even amongst the fisher skippers there were +few to equal him. With a sluggish compass on +a pole, a handful of tallow smeared into the bottom +of a lead, and a nose to sniff the wet air, he could +feel his way from any one part of the North Sea +waste to any other part with unfaltering accuracy. +</p> + +<p> +At intervals a hand would bring the lead to +him, and he would examine and sniff at the +arming.—"H'm, sand and small shells, and one of them +brown creepy things, and that crisp brass wire +smell. We are just off the Sou' East corner of +that hole where I carried away a trawl-beam in +Nought-one. Tell Olssen to give her half a point +more starboard, and take another cast of the lead +in twenty minutes, and if there's black sand with +these same shells, you needn't bother me for another +hour. I guess that half point will just overtake +the drift." +</p> + +<p> +So on across his chosen line to the German coast. +Captain Shepherd did not trouble with charts. +He carried an accurate map of the contours of +the North Sea floor in his head, and had +resourcefulness enough for all other requirements. +</p> + +<p> +Once he was hailed by a hurrying German +destroyer, but had backed away into the fog with a +ported helm by the time she had come to look +for him, and so escaped inquiries. But the +incident gave him an idea. He went to the engine +room skylight, and hailed down to one of his +impressed stokers. +</p> + +<p> +"Hey, you putty-feller there, what did the +Dutchmen do with your fishing gear when they +took you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Slung it overboard, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"All of it?" +</p> + +<p> +"All of it except the warps." +</p> + +<p> +"Did they jettison the otter boards?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"But didn't Captain Argles carry a spare?" +</p> + +<p> +The two stokers consulted. "Yes, sir, there's +a spare otter board used as a floor to one of the +fish boxes." +</p> + +<p> +"Good," said Captain, and proceeded to get +it on deck. "We'll call the depth here twenty-six +fathoms, and we'll shackle one of these devil's +machines on to the otter board with enough drift +of painter to keep it just under the surface when +we're towing it out a quarter of a mile a-beam of +us. How's that, fellers? Take that mine there +marked 32, that's next under the derrick, and +handle it like eggs or it'll go off 'pop,' and that'll +be the end of our tale, and our job'll be left undone. +By Crumbs! fellers, be careful. Keep it in your +heads that we've a big stack of these Dutchmen +to kill yet before our own time comes." +</p> + +<p> +Success came that very night. From out of +the mist and the darkness, a German light cruiser +came pelting up at a five and twenty knot gait, +with guns nosing round for a prey, and searchlights +blazing. She sighted the trawler, and hove-to +with engines working, full-speed astern, athwart +of the <i>Bishop Argles'</i> trawl warp, bawling +questions. +</p> + +<p> +"Yaw! Yaw!" shouted Captain Shepherd in +polite response, "No comprenney." And in the +meanwhile Mr. McCrae had set the deck winch +going, and hove in on the trawl warp till he drew +the mine and its murderous strikers into place. +</p> + +<p> +It hit the cruiser squarely beneath her bilge, +amidships. It blew her half in two; it exploded +some if not all of her boilers, and these (or the +mine) exploded her magazines. Heaven yelled +to the din of the blasts. The fog lit to a flaming +yellow. The <i>Bishop Argles</i> rocked and tossed +like a cork in a flooded gutter with the shock, and +when the reeking smoke of the melinite blew to him, +Joe, the cat, spat and swore with excited frenzy. +</p> + +<p> +"Good puss then," said Captain Shepherd. +"Hates a Dutchman, doesn't she, as much as any +other Christian would? Get the slack of that +trawl warp hove in Mac, will you, and then we'll +steam on again. Back to your course, Olssen." +</p> + +<p> +"You're going to pick none of them up then, +Skipper?" asked Dick. "Their own boats will +have been smashed to sticks." +</p> + +<p> +"I will if they'll give me back my boys—and +yours, Dick." +</p> + +<p> +"Aye, I thought you'd be that way," said the +old fisherman with a sigh. "Here's a sandwich +for you, Skipper. You missed your dinner, so +you'll need it. The meat's some kind of liver +sausage with black things in it, but I fried it with +onions, so you'll never notice the taste. And +here's a mug of good hard-boiled tea." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, Dick. Now go and take a spell +at the wheel and send Olssen to me aft here. And +Dick, if he doesn't seem to want to come, or if he +shows awkward in anyway, throw him over into +the pond." +</p> + +<p> +"Aye," said the burly old man, "I was expecting +that too, Skipper. Olssen's a Dutchman of sorts +himself." +</p> + +<p> +Olssen came, and was sharply bidden to stand +ten feet from his interviewer. "And now, my +man," said Captain Shepherd, "as the only feller +who speaks German on this packet, why the whiskers +didn't you palaver that brass-edged Dutchman +when I told you to? Frightened?" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Nein</i>, it was nod dat exactly." +</p> + +<p> +"Kind o' forgot they murdered your brother +a few hours ago did you?" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Mein Gott, nein.</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"Look here, my feller, what countryman are +you? An Olssen should be some sort of a Souwegian." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Deutschland uber alles</i>," murmured Olssen +softly, and rushed. Captain Shepherd stepped +slightly aside, but left one heavy carpet-slippered +foot behind him. Olssen struck wildly, hit nothing, +tripped over the foot, and tumbled over the rail +into the North Sea: where he remained. +</p> + +<p> +"They're everywhere, those Dutchmen," commented +Captain Shepherd patiently, and cut +himself tobacco. "They have no feeling for a +brother that's been killed or for anybody else. +They'll do with a lot of weeding out. I must +weed." +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * +</p> + +<p> +It was dark again when the <i>Bishop Argles</i> +entered the Heligoland Bight, and she was steaming +without lights. Furthermore her engine-room and +cabin skylights were covered with tarpaulins, +and the binnacle light was muffled so that not the +smallest ray could escape seaward. The clothing +of her people was dried by now, and Captain +Shepherd's carpet slippers showed their colours in full +brilliancy. A more desperate venture than the +one they were set upon, it would be impossible to +find, but none of the bipeds showed emotion. +Fishermen are not a demonstrative lot at any +time, and these few survivors of what was once a +happy family ship were perhaps dulled with grief, +and anyway had decided that it was worth dying +to encompass a certain ambition against the enemy, +and there was an end of it. So they ate, drank, +kept watches, and behaved as normal fishermen +should behave. +</p> + +<p> +Joe, the cat, was the exception. Joe complained +personally and individually to each of the crew in +turn (except of course the two pariahs, in the +stokehold) and had his neck tickled or his tail pulled in +good-tempered toleration. Everybody liked Joe, +but nobody was going to be worried too much +about his obvious forebodings. He went to McCrae +last of all, as that excellent person came up to +cool off at the fiddley door. Mr. McCrae was +wiping grease from his hands and face with a wad +of cotton waste, and thriftily transferring it to +his boots. +</p> + +<p> +"Fey," he said to Dick, who had been trying +to tempt the cat with a bone. "Fey. That's +what ails the puir beastie. I thought second +sight of that kind was confined to humans. +Here's a proof to the contrary. It would be a +vera' interesting topic to write an article on for +the <i>E'mbro' Review</i> if ever we get hame again, +which we shalln't. Dick, there was an eye in that +egg you fried for ma' breakfast this morning. I'll +trouble you to pick the meaty bits out in the future. +They're ower rich for ma' stomach." +</p> + +<p> +A new danger cropped up as they neared their +goal. The British Navy both on the water and +below it, though mostly below it, was keeping +watch and ward on the German ships that were +cooped up inside. Captain Shepherd instinctively +decided that the British Navy would not accept +him as an ally on any terms whatever. He felt +the point of view to be narrow-minded in the highest +degree, but saw no means just then of changing +it. He had no time at the moment to stop and +argue an ethical point with the British Navy. So +he did his best to avoid conversation with any of +its units. +</p> + +<p> +Twice, snaky destroyers sighted him, and turned +in to speak, but the fog held his friend, and his +old tactics of going astern on a swerving helm +carried him out of reach. He chuckled as one of +them let off a rapid stream of gun fire at some +other object which they mistook for the trawler +amongst the sea-mists. +</p> + +<p> +But it was the submarines that worried Captain +Shepherd most. A hand reported "There's a +drainpipe cruising alongside us to starboard, Skipper." +</p> + +<p> +Well, there it was, an insignificant periscope, +with a trifling wake of white water behind it, and +nothing to show if it was British or German, or, +for that matter, Venezuelan. There would be a hull +down below too, twice as big as the <i>Bishop Argles</i> +and full of men only too keen to interfere with his +righteous work. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Shepherd at last got seriously annoyed. +His red face inside its frame of grizzled whiskers +deepened to a fine plum colour. "Hard a port +with that helm," he ordered. "Hard over with +it now—yes, and steady on that. I'll make that +chap dive, or I'll scrape his deckplates." +</p> + +<p> +And dive is what the submarine promptly did. +Her periscope slid under water as though it had +been pulled down by a string, and the little +steamboat lumbered over her without touching, and +drove ahead down the North Sea without scathe +from her torpedoes. Perhaps they thought she +was an ordinary blundering trawler, and it was +an even chance whether she was their own friend +or an enemy ship. Captain Shepherd could not +tell her captain's thoughts. He did not even know +if the submarine was a British or a German craft. +But they saw her no more. Perhaps, again, when +once more she got her eye above water and could +see, the <i>Bishop Argles</i> had vanished in the +fog. There is a large element of chance in modern +sea-warfare. Anyway Captain Shepherd and his +fellow fishermen were satisfied. They were fully +decided that none of them liked submarines. +</p> + +<p> +But it was to one of these sub-aqueous craft—and +the probabilities point to its being German—that +they owed their pilotage through the enemy's +most dangerous defences. A periscope appeared +out of the gloom on their starboard hand, and +converged in to their course ahead. +</p> + +<p> +"Follow that feller," said Captain Shepherd to +Dick who was in the wheelhouse, and applied +himself to a study of the seascape through his +night glasses. +</p> + +<p> +"Appears 's if he's trolling for mackerel," +observed Dick, as presently the periscope swerved +off on a new course. +</p> + +<p> +"Follow every turn he makes, to a fathom," said +Captain Shepherd. "We're going through a hedge +of mines just now, and I shouldn't like to spoil +any of them. So as he's got the chart of how +they're laid, and we haven't, we'll just keep +narrowly in his wake. But as there may be other +Dutchmen wanting to use this same gap in the +hedge after us, I reckon we'll just put a bramble +or two in it that may scratch them. Mac?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Cap." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't bawl so loud, Mac. That drainpipe +affair ahead there may have ears as well as an +eye, for all we know. Just get aft, and dump in +them boilers numbered 32 and 37 over the counter +as quick as you like. The moorings are ready +shackled on at the right depth, so there's nothing +to delay you." +</p> + +<p> +"Right, Cap," said the engineer, and with the help +of a couple of hands set about his work. He spat on +each mine for luck as they lowered it over the stern. +</p> + +<p> +"Amazing queer dance this chap is taking us," +said Dick, with his eyes on the faint phosphorescence +of the periscope's wake. He sawed hard at the +wheel, with a busy clatter of cogs. "There you +are again. Can you take her through this dance +backwards again d'ye think, Skipper?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, Dick. For one reason Mac's sealing up +the hole behind us. For another we're—we're +going into harbour, Dick. We shall see your boy +and mine inside an hour from now. D'ye mind?" +</p> + +<p> +"That's all right, Skipper. You and I have been +good shipmates for a long time now, and we never +differed on anything that mattered. We shalln't +differ on this anyway. I'm damn sorry I cooked +so badly for you sometimes, that's all." +</p> + +<p> +"Only person I'm really sorry about is poor +old Joe. He's no special quarrel against these +Dutchmen, and he knows what's coming as well +as any Christian, and hates it fit to burst himself. +I did think of heading him up in a cask with a +couple of pounds of meat, and setting him adrift +to get a chance. But he might fall into +Dutchmen's hands, and they're such cruel devils, +Dick. After the way they killed my two—my +two splendid—oh God damn them, Dick. Joe'll +be better off if he stays aboard here and takes his +gruel like the rest of us. +</p> + +<p> +"Now let me think"—He conned over in his +head the bearings of the zigzag course, and mentally +reckoned the length of each leg—"We shall be +just over the twenty-five fathom patch, and the +North East point of Heligoland will be bearing +about due West, or say West 'n by North. H'm." He +took a cast of the lead himself to make sure, +and smiled with professional appreciation of his +own skill when the depth, and the matter brought +up by the arming of tallow, proved the accuracy of +his mental reckoning. +</p> + +<p> +"You may send her along——" he began, when +the deep boom of a big syren close at hand drowned +the words. It was answered by another, lighter in +note, on the trawler's other side, and two rockets +sped up into the fog from two more ships ahead. +He put his lips to Dick's hairy ear and bawled. +"We're right in amongst the fleet of them, and +if we don't look quick, we shalln't get our work +done. Gimme that wheel, and do you go aft and +tell Mac to get those mines overboard and into +the water as quick as he can whip them off the +deck." +</p> + +<p> +Somehow, and I hardly think it could have been +from the submarine that unconsciously piloted +them through the mine-field, the Germans had +got wind of an enemy's presence, and an alarm +spread round the invisible fleet with furious noise +and bustle. Syrens with long blasts and short +boomed messages; searchlights made the fog +iridescent, but did not penetrate it; and there +was all the indescribable turmoil and alarm of a +great war fleet caught at anchor by an invisible +destroyer that had penetrated their outer and +inner defences. +</p> + +<p> +The fishermen were the only people who took +it coolly. They had their work to do, and did it, +as though it was their daily routine. Mine after +mine—German-made—was lifted from their decks +and dropped into the still water astern, and Captain +Shepherd in the steering pulpit leaned over the +spokes of the wheel, and wove his way accurately +between the loudest of the noises. +</p> + +<p> +Launches and picket boats at high speed began +to pant by them unseen through the fog. One of +these presently fouled one of the drifting mines, +and blew it up with an appalling explosion. And +then some big ship got an attack of the nerves and +fired into what necessarily must have been one +of her own boats with every light gun she could +bring to bear. +</p> + +<p> +"They're beginning to pay," said Captain +Shepherd at the wheel. "Oh Lord, give me time to +send in more of the bill, and make them pay at +least half what's owing." He glanced over his +shoulder at the after deck—"Mac." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Cap." +</p> + +<p> +"When you get to the last two of them boilers, +hang one over each quarter, and tell me." +</p> + +<p> +"Right," said McCrae and waved a hand. +</p> + +<p> +Other spurts of firing burst out, and then there +was a crash as some launch's boiler exploded to a +shell, and the shrill scream of hurt men. +</p> + +<p> +"The Dutchmen will call this a raid by the +whole British Fleet in to-morrow's papers," +commented Captain Shepherd. "They'll never own +up they've been shooting into their own ships. +By whiskers! I shall have to look lively now. +All this firing's bringing on a breeze that'll clear the +fog. Yes, Mac?" +</p> + +<p> +"They're all over in the ditch, Cap, bar those +last two. I've slung one on either quarter, as you +said." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, Mac." The wheel went over and +the <i>Bishop Argles</i> headed for the line of invisible +ships, where the noise of defence was loudest. +</p> + +<p> +They sighted her when she was a hundred yards +away, and saluted her with a very tornado of +fire. Her funnel was shorn off close to the fiddley +top by a shell from a great gun, which did not +explode there, but acted against a friend in the +further line. Rifle bullets and small shells from +quick-firers swept over her like a hailstorm, and +a score of heavier missiles skated along her rusty +iron sides. But she was end-on, and so as a target +she was small, and there is no doubt that the +gunners were scared and nervous. The German at +the range and the German in action are two very +different marksmen. +</p> + +<p> +Normally, at ten knots, that hundred yards' run +should have taken about one-third of a minute, +but some of the shells had penetrated between +wind and water and the trawler was sinking fast, +and dropping pace every second. +</p> + +<p> +"Go on, old girl," Captain Shepherd urged. +"H'ep now, just another score of fathoms, and +that's all I ask from you. Joe, you brute, get off +my shoulder, or don't claw." +</p> + +<p> +The little steamer with her engines by a marvel +untouched, and with her burden of mines by a +greater marvel unexploded, drew up to the great +battle cruiser with still some free-board showing, +and then Captain Shepherd rammed his helm +hard-a-port. Her bow almost scraped along the +war ship's flank, and her stern swung in. There +was a lull in the big gun's fire as they could not be +depressed enough to get their sights on her, and the +riflemen were firing from the hip and hurting +their friends across the way. And then the +starboard quarter of the <i>Bishop Argles</i> swung in +against the big cruiser's side just below the forward +barbettes, and the mine was cracked between +them, and a volcano burst forth that rivalled +Etna. +</p> + +<p> +Gun ammunition blew up on board of her, and +then a magazine. Boilers caught the infection, +and then more gun ammunition, and more +magazines. The huge ship blew to pieces piecemeal, +and sank compartment by compartment. But +she went to the sea floor none the less efficiently. +And she was one of the biggest cruisers on the +world's navy list. As for the trawler, she was +spread as mere scum on the troubled waters of the +Heligoland Bight. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * +</p> + +<p> +Now this ought to be the end of the tale. But +history compels me to record that Captain Shepherd +still resides in England. Odd to relate, he +seems well off. In his house is an enlarged +photograph of two young men, curiously alike, and in +that wooden attitude affected by fishermen when +they face the camera. It is framed simply in +oak, but the frame is notable. It is studded thickly +with curious bronze spikes, which the intelligent +observer will recognize, after thought, as once +having been carried on the helmet of German +infantry men, at the rate of one spike one man. +</p> + +<p> +There are seventy-six spikes round the frame. +</p> + +<p> +A queer-looking tabby tom cat, with one ear +missing, and a foreleg that has been broken and +badly mended limps round the garden with Captain +Shepherd. If you shake anything yellow at +this cat, he spits at you. +</p> + +<p> +But how these latter things came to pass cannot +be related here. They belong to another tale. +</p> + +<p> +Underneath the portraits is a newspaper cutting, +also framed, which runs thus:— +</p> + +<p> +"<i>New York</i>. Berlin reports by wireless that +a British destroyer flotilla made a determined +raid on a German fleet last night, off Heligoland. +The British loss was thirteen destroyers sunk and +three captured. Their loss in men was very heavy. +The Germans had one unimportant cruiser slightly +damaged." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> + +<h2> +III +<br><br> +COTTON +</h2> + +<p> +The trouble about this tale is that the best +bits may not be written. If they were +written, and put in print, I personally +should be clapped in gaol. Of course, in the good +cause of enlightening the public (at so much per +reader) I might be expected with reason, at any +rate in theory, to welcome gaol or worse. But +this would not be the end. The book in which +the dangerous article appeared would be suppressed +promptly. It would merely be a case of martyrdom +without result. So the very much expurgated +tale may be given (without prejudice) as follows:— +</p> + +<p> +The man who brought the whole thing about +was an actor. +</p> + +<p> +About his acting powers I can say nothing, never +having seen him on the boards, and being unwilling +to take his own word for his histrionic powers. +But about his personal appearance there was no +doubt. Young Arthur Hunter saw him first coming +up the road to the farm. +</p> + +<p> +"Grandfather," said he, "there's a man coming +up from the road." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah," said Captain Kettle from behind the +<i>Craven Herald</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"And Grandfather, he's—he's an actor." +</p> + +<p> +"Mind you never come as low as that," said +Sir Owen, stretching out a hand to hitch his wooden +leg into an easier position. +</p> + +<p> +"And Grandfather—Grandfather! <i>He's coming +to the front door!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"I'll go myself," said Captain Kettle, getting +briskly to his feet. "You stay here, boy." +</p> + +<p> +The caller stood on the door-step, swept off +his hat, stood bare-headed, and bowed. "Captain +Sir Owen Kettle, K.C.B., I believe? I have not +brought a letter of introduction, as I felt you +would say it was not needed. I am Holly Holroyd." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know you, and I never heard of you." +</p> + +<p> +"Then I am afraid you have been out of touch +with the Profession these last two years." +</p> + +<p> +"On the contrary, though retired, I take in +<i>The Syren and Shipping</i> and read it from cover +to cover, including advertisements, every week." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, you do not take me, Sir Owen. I meant, +of course, the theatrical profession. All England +that goes to a theatre knows that my 'Jasper +Kay' in 'The Reptile' was the finest thing in +juvenile leads that has ever been seen on the stage." +</p> + +<p> +The sailor's red torpedo beard stuck out +unpleasantly. "I've never been inside a theatre in my +life. What do you want?" +</p> + +<p> +"Your help and advice." +</p> + +<p> +"If you go round to the kitchen door the girl +will give cheese, bread, and a glass of beer." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, Sir Owen, but this is a little +premature. I hope to feel my knees under your good +old mahogany whilst we compare reminiscences +over your good old port a little later. Sweetly +quaint old spot you've settled down in here, Sir +Owen, and you can believe me when I say I'm a +judge. I was land-agent to Sir Berkeley Craig +before I joined The Profession. But am I not +keeping you standing here too long?" +</p> + +<p> +"You are. Good afternoon." +</p> + +<p> +"You don't take me. I was going to suggest +that you should smoke one of my prime cigars in +your study—I have them specially blended and +made for me in Havana, with my name printed in +three colours on the band." +</p> + +<p> +"I import my own cigars direct from a tobacconist +in Skipton, and I'm not out to buy any +'Just-as-goodados' at the door." +</p> + +<p> +"Sir Owen, you are a tough guardian of your +own privacy. I see I must give you the password. +I have come to speak to you on—hist!—England. +Ha! You get me now?" +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle stood squarely in his doorway and +nodded towards the field opposite. "That pond +down there, with the ducks on it," he explained, +"is deep, and you haven't told me if you can swim. +If you've business, say in three words what it is. +If you waste any more of my time, you'll bathe. +Got that?" +</p> + +<p> +"You are a man after Holly Holroyd's own +heart, Sir Owen—brisk and curt and business-like. +The stage, I'll admit it, leads one to rigmarole. +You should have seen me in former days when I +was on the Stock Exchange. But to my business, +and in three words, as you say. Do these thrill +you? Cotton; Germany; Stop?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not a bit. They're in the paper every morning. +If you'd a workable plan for stopping cotton, there +might be something in that." +</p> + +<p> +"Holly Holroyd is the one man in this Empire +who has that plan. Are we observed?" +</p> + +<p> +"We are. Those ducks are listening for all +they're worth. Come in if you like. But if you +waste my time, and I tell you I'm in the middle +of a very important article on manures in the +<i>Craven Herald</i>, you'll learn what a duck's life +really is." +</p> + +<p> +"M'Lord, lead on," said Mr. Holroyd with simple +dignity. "An I capture not your interest, may I +be writ down failure and dolt." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Now, from a commencement so unpromising, it +says a good deal for Mr. Holroyd's power of persuasion +that he gained so tough a subject as Captain +Kettle as ally through the medium of less than an +hour's talk. +</p> + +<p> +"This War," he said, as he got into a chair, +"this War is kept going by our politicians. I +suppose we're agreed on that, Sir Owen?" +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle stared. Then he got a box of +cigars from a cupboard in the wall and offered +them. +</p> + +<p> +"Put your finger on cotton. All propelling +explosives nowadays are made from cotton. If +we'd stopped all cotton going into Germany from +August, nineteen fourteen, the Germans to-day +wouldn't be able to fire a shot. Isn't that logic?" +</p> + +<p> +"Here are matches," said the host. "Bite the +end from that vegetable and light up." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not talking through my hat. I was once +runner-up at a Parliamentary Election. If I'd +got in, there was £1,000 a year for me so long as +I voted as I was told. I got kicked out, and so +remained passably honest. But you can take it +from me, Sir Owen, there's as much money in +politics now as ever there was." +</p> + +<p> +"That's not news. No one ever supposed any +man went in for the dirty game of politics for the +good of his health. Why should he?" +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, then. Supposing you were in politics—I +don't care on what side—and you were told +that your livelihood depended on your letting +Germany have cotton, wouldn't you let?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'd see Germany in hell first," said Captain +Kettle violently. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Holly Holroyd spread an expostulatory +palm. "That's not answering my question. You +merely prove you're no politician. You're merely +a clean Englishman." +</p> + +<p> +"Welshman." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, there are clean Welshmen, too. They're +showing themselves in considerable number since +the war started. But there aren't enough, and +they haven't the gift of talk. The politicians +have the monopoly of that, and they shout the +rest of the nation down and get their own way, +and earn their graft. They've tons of excuses +when you start to tackle them—and they keep +the supply of cotton for Germany going strong. +Good Lord! but for the small matter of a score +of tipsy miners voting the other way, shouldn't I +be doing the same thing myself at this moment." +</p> + +<p> +"I thought you were a celebrated actor?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am. I will show you my press-cutting +book to prove it if you like, but as a man of the +world, Sir Owen, you can't imagine I'd be an actor +if I could be anything else?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," Captain Kettle admitted. "That sounds +true enough. Have some whisky and soda?" +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Holroyd helped himself to a moderate peg, +and produced a pocket-book. "But, of course, I +have to make a bit as I go along. I have here a +schedule of all the cotton that has gone into +European neutral countries over and above their normal +supply. The figures are surprising. Like to see +them?" +</p> + +<p> +"I should not. I hate big figures." +</p> + +<p> +"So do I. I made my living as a chartered +accountant for a number of years, and saw enough +of figures to last me the rest of my natural. But +the facts are plain. As we can't tackle our paid +politicians on the spot, neutral countries are the +places to stop cotton in. Private individuals can +do it. I know how." +</p> + +<p> +"That would mean a high-class row." +</p> + +<p> +"And are you scared of a row, Sir Owen?" +</p> + +<p> +"By James, no," said Captain Kettle, and then +bit on to his cigar and smoked furiously. He felt +that he had been letting out the secret of his own +private weakness to a comparative stranger. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Holroyd sipped at his whisky, smoked for a +minute, then said "Ha, ha!" +</p> + +<p> +"What the mischief are you sniggering at?" +inquired his host. +</p> + +<p> +"Your curiosity, m'lord. You're aching to +know how it could be done." +</p> + +<p> +"I am," said Captain Kettle. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +It was in company with this queer adventurer +then that Captain Kettle found himself attempting +to make the voyage from England to a certain +seaport on the continent of Europe. To his surprise +he found himself stopped at the onset. Whether it +was suspicion as to his motive or official incapacity +he could not make out. But one thing was certain, +no permission was forthcoming within a reasonable +time to leave the country. +</p> + +<p> +"I always knew," he commented, "that a Government +Department takes ten days longer than a business +office to answer an ordinary letter, but three weeks +is too much. They don't say we've got to stay at +home. They simply sit tight and do nothing. So +if they won't give proper leave, we'll go without +leave. I've not been all my life at sea without +knowing sea roads. As you haven't got any shirts +of your own, Mr. Holroyd, Lady Kettle will lend +you two of mine, and you can have my other +portmanteau, and, mind, don't forget those—those——" +</p> + +<p> +"Call them chemicals," suggested Mr. Holly +Holroyd. "Most embracing word, chemicals. I +called moonlight whisky that when I was brewing +it on the strict Q.T. in the Great Smoky Mountains +in North Carolina. And we'll each carry one of +the popguns so as to distribute the risk, as we +insurance agents say. Those pop-guns are rather +the key to the situation, Sir Owen. We couldn't +replace them in—on the Continent. I also hope +to the Lord we don't get dropped on with them on +us. If any of the authorities over yonder got +wise to our little game, there'd be a hanging in +which we should both take a keen, personal interest." +</p> + +<p> +"Speak for yourself," said Captain Kettle sharply. +"I don't allow any goggle-eyed continental to +hang me. I'm not talking through my hat either—a +lot have tried. If you'll excuse me for a minute +I'll just slip up and give Arthur a half dose of +Horner's Perfect Cure. By the way that child +has been tucking into unripe gooseberries this +day, his grandmother will be treating him for +appendicitis and chill on the liver to-morrow if I +don't get ahead of her with Horner. Then, if +you're packed, we will drive into Grassington and +catch the train." +</p> + +<p> +"Right, and I'll bring down your baggage for you." +</p> + +<p> +"If you could—um—contrive to forget the +long package that's laid across the armchair, I'd +be obliged to you." +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly. But I don't quite understand. +What's the scheme?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you see," said Kettle rather uncomfortably, +"it's my second-best leg. Lady Kettle wants me +to take it across for general wear. It's all right +for use on the farm here, but I don't mind telling +you I hate wearing it before a mixed audience. +It's so infernally old-fashioned. If I had forgotten +it when my lady met us at the station, I'm afraid +there'd be a domestic scene. If it was your fault, +I don't fancy she'd say much." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +It is a pity that a gap must occur in the tale +here, and that the name of the steamboat that +carried them, the nationality of the submarine +that held them up <i>en route</i>, and most emphatically +of all, the name of the river they steamed up and +the port they landed at must all be rigorously +censored. Captain Kettle cocked his cigar at a +fierce angle and looked with a farmer's eye at the +rich, flat pasture lands beyond the river's bank +as they steamed along, and he wrote an ode (in his +mind) to the local breed of cow. At the quay he +played second fiddle, as per arrangement, to the +flamboyant Mr. Holroyd. At a subsequent hotel +he meekly signed his name (with all the outward +ensigns of shame) "Professor Owen." +</p> + +<p> +"My friend, the Pro-fessor, and I," Mr. Holly +Holroyd announced in that nasal accent which +does duty on the continent of Europe for good +United States, "the Professor and I are here on +a scientific investigation for the good of mankind +and on behalf of the University of Ballahassee, +Tennessee. A nootral country is necessary for our +researches. We have with us all the necessary +chemicals, but will guarantee they make no smell. +Do I make myself clear?" +</p> + +<p> +"Perfectly," said the landlord, who did not +understand one word in ten. "A private sitting-room +will be extra." +</p> + +<p> +"Tut, tut!" said Mr. Holroyd. "You do not +understand, man. We cannot work together. We +must have a private sitting-room apiece, and two +bedrooms, all, of course, <i>en suite</i>." +</p> + +<p> +The landlord perceived the dignity of his +customers, and his bows increased. "I have at your +service, sirs, our Ambassadors' suite on the first +<i>étage</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"We will try and make that do," Mr. Holroyd +condescended. "We were prepared to be cramped +when we came here. In war time one puts up +with war quarters and war privations. We expect +even your dinner and your wines to be bad. But +be quick now. We have business to do." +</p> + +<p> +"And who," demanded Captain Kettle three +minutes later, "who do you suppose is going to +pay for all this useless splash? I won't." +</p> + +<p> +"And I can't, most excellent, my lord. We'll +skip all right when the time comes. But at the +moment it was necessary to impress the landlord. +He'd a most damnable fishy eye. As it is, he'd +never dream of putting the police on to the +Ambassadors' suite." +</p> + +<p> +"Hum," said Captain Kettle. "Don't you +dream, my lad, of landing me into anything more +like this without getting leave beforehand. Now, on +which part of the river front is the cotton landed?" +</p> + +<p> +"Search me. I know no more about the place +than the man in the moon. But after we have had +an elaborate luncheon and grumbled because there +are no ortolans—always have ortolans in Ballahassee, +Professor—I guess we'll have a pasear and +take in the town. Aren't I Amurrican to the life?" +</p> + +<p> +"You sound like an Englishman who has spent +one week-end in New York. And now, my lad, +what about those precious chemicals of yours? +This place is bound to be raided the minute we +turn our backs, if I know anything about +continental cities." +</p> + +<p> +"You're right, m'lord, all the time. I've brought +along a special set of obscure chemicals and bacteriological +specimens for them to find. For the real stuff +we must make a magazine. The question is, where?" +</p> + +<p> +"That depends on the quantity and the danger +of your material. You must remember you've +been so mighty mysterious about it that you've +never shown me so much as a specimen yet." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you worry about ideas, your Eminence. +I'm brimming with them. The only trouble is +cash to carry them out. If only the British +Government were subsidising this expedition I could get +on swimmingly. But under the circumstances, as +they don't know about it, they naturally couldn't. +M'lord, could you advance me fifty guilders? +They'll save our necks for the time being. If I +don't turn up to pay, you can screw it out of the +Chancellor of the Exchequer when you get home." +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle produced a note. "I don't +know what you want it for," he observed +unpleasantly, "but if it turns out afterwards you've +blown it on a spree, I'll give you something that +will keep you teetotal for a fortnight." +</p> + +<p> +"Most Potent," said Mr. Holroyd, "your honoured +trust shall not be betrayed. I return anon. +But, for the Lord's sake, stick here like glue. The +city reeks of German spies, and the moment we +both turn our backs the rooms will be searched +down to the bone. With your lordship's permission, +I will now for a while take my leave." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Mr. Holroyd returned in an hour's time carrying +a large brown-paper parcel, which on being opened +disclosed a portmanteau of eminently continental +cut. This he proceeded to decorate with the +labels of hotels in Homburg, Vienna, and Monte +Carlo, and to the handle he affixed a rubric which +stated that it was the property of an officer well +known in the Kaiser Wilhelm's service (but who +was just then, so the papers said, in Russia), and +that it was to be left till called for. After which +he stored within it certain matters, and then +deposited it in an empty bedroom on the opposite +side of their passage. +</p> + +<p> +"There," said he, "if that's found, everyone +will think the other fellow's put it there. The +servants in this pub can be estimated in tons, and +they're the most muddling lot I ever struck in +all my travels. No method. I've kept enough +samples of our—er—chemicals in my waistcoat +pocket for you to experiment on, m'lord, as you +still seem sceptical." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll have to comb your hair yet," said the little +sailor reflectively. "Now just here, and before +we go any further, and without any frills of talk, +kindly say with clearness what it is you have got." +</p> + +<p> +"Fluxite tabloids and a deferred ignitor." +</p> + +<p> +"What's that?" +</p> + +<p> +"You see, you don't understand. I knew you +wouldn't. So I absolutely must explain, and +don't blame me if I get gassy over the dramatic +bits. You've heard of Louvain?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have." +</p> + +<p> +"The Germans burnt it?" +</p> + +<p> +"So I read." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, they did, all right. They'd a corps of +men specially appointed for the job. Probably +been drilling them for that particular enterprise +since 1870. Special uniform and special swear +words, all complete. Their equipment was a box +of matches and a haversack of tabloids like this"—he +showed a couple of small black dice balanced +on the back of his hand. "Each tabloid is guaranteed +to set fire to anything, from a kitchen range +to a chest of drawers when touched off. It really +is wonderful stuff. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, then. An intelligent Belgian found +a dozen and a half of this amiable corps hard at +work. He helped them, and after a hard day's +work took them to a cellar where there was some +good, old champagne, and filled them up choc-a-block. +Then he turned on the gas and left. Next +morning he came and found eighteen good Germans +and took from them their stores of fluxite tabloids +for which they had no further use. He set fire to +the cellar they were in, so as not to cause any +unpleasantness with their friends, and got across to +England with the tabloids. As he'd picked up +some shrapnel in the knee on his travels, he handed +the tabloids to me, and they're now in that +portmanteau." +</p> + +<p> +"But what's this other thing you talked +of—something about deferred ignition?" +</p> + +<p> +"A mere trifle, m'lord, but being a little thing +of my own, I cherish it. Once I thought I'd be a +chemist, and really learned quite a bit about chemistry +before I chucked it. There are lots of substances +which, when mixed together, produce fire, at once +or sooner. There are quite a few which take +their time over it; warm up to their work slowly +and thoughtfully in fact; but do it none the less +efficiently for all. My tabloids are the latter sort. +I won't trouble you with their composition. Indeed +I may as well go so far as to say that when I have +advertised them well by our present trip—always +supposing we don't get scuppered in the process—I +mean to retail the recipe to the War Office people, +if I can wake them out of their winter sleep. Then +I shall be able to repay that fifty guilders I've soaked +you in for, not to mention those two second-best +shirts which Lady Kettle so kindly, but so +reluctantly, provided." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Captain Kettle, "your stuff may +be good and may be bad, and is probably bad, +but anyway I'm not going to be satisfied till I see +it tried. So come out now and we'll find where +this cotton is stored." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +They had not to go far in their exploration of +that continental seaport city without finding +cotton. Quays, warehouses, streets even, were +piled with cotton bales; trains clattered away +with them over the frontier into Germany as fast +as sweating men could load them; and every +minute more bales were discharged from steamers +fresh in from the ocean. Every bale sent into +Germany meant death for ten soldiers of the Allies, +but it also meant money for the thrifty neutral +who passed it through his territory, money for the +free and independent Southern States planter, +money for the shipper, money for the broker, +money (according to Captain Kettle) for the British +lawyer-politician, money in fact for so many worthy +and pushing people that the mere soldier (who as +often as not did not possess a vote) had naturally +to go to the wall. +</p> + +<p> +"My great James!" said Captain Kettle. "Here's +a way to carry on war!" +</p> + +<p> +"Rather surprising, isn't it, we didn't ship them +cordite whilst we were at it, and bag the +manufacturing profit as well? It would have been quite +as consistent. Do you know we are being followed?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, by a tall party with a kaiser moustache +and glasses. He came on with us as convoy when +we left the hotel. He's pointed us out to four +other people that I've seen during our stroll, and +probably to more." +</p> + +<p> +"My compliments on your wits, m'lord. You've +seen more than I did. Are we going into the +hotel? It's probably a trap." +</p> + +<p> +"If anybody here wants trouble," said the sailor +truculently, "I'm the man to provide it. Go +inside. We'll dine in our rooms, and the Lord +help the Dutchman who tries to interfere." +</p> + +<p> +But there were men in that city as daring as +Captain Owen Kettle. Half-way through dinner +an embarrassed waiter announced "Some visitors, +chentlemen," and on his heels there pressed the +big German with the spectacles and the upturned +moustaches, and three friends. They elbowed the +waiter out into the passage, and shut the door +behind them. +</p> + +<p> +The big German folded his arms and addressed +the sailor, in good English—"You are a Britisher." +</p> + +<p> +"I have always suspected it," said Kettle dryly. +</p> + +<p> +"And your name is not Professor Owen, but +Captain Owen Kettle. We have met before, as +you will remember. And now I am going to settle +up for what I owe you." +</p> + +<p> +"I hear you say it." +</p> + +<p> +"Speak the truth. What do you want here?" +</p> + +<p> +"What the hell's that to you? Get out of this +room, one-time, you crossed-eyed son of dog. There's +the door. If you don't use that you'll be thrown +through the window. Understand? I don't like +your face." +</p> + +<p> +Here was a touch of the Kettle of an earlier era. +The modern German always had that kind of +emetic effect on him. This specimen, however, +was not the man to take insults calmly. He lugged +out a revolver, and was plainly on the verge of +shot. But a large and heavy water carafe, thrown +with the full strength of Kettle's right arm, caught +him fairly on the chest, where it burst like a shell. +The sailor followed up the attack as quickly as he +could limp across the room, wrenched the man's +revolver away, and beat the sense out of him with +the butt of it. +</p> + +<p> +Another, advancing to the help of this first, +had his legs plucked violently from beneath him, +and his head pounded against the iron kerb fender +till the subsequent proceedings interested him no +more. Then Captain Kettle turned his eyes and +looked across the room, and saw the other two +intruders ranged against the wall with their hands +above their heads, and Mr. Holly Holroyd menacing +them with a most murderous-looking carving knife +and carving fork. +</p> + +<p> +"Aren't I the complete cannibal m'lord?" he +asked. "The citizen at present offering his liver +to the knife is so far untouched, but the ruffian on +my fork-hand has a dozen punctures in him for +which he is probably none the better. Congratters +on the way you killed your brace. I suppose +we ought to make good Germans of these two, +but my trouble is I can't kill sitters." +</p> + +<p> +"You wait there, my lad," said Captain Kettle, +"till I get some sheets from one of the bedrooms +torn into strips, and then I'll show you how to +tie up a man efficiently. It's an art. I'm also +going to make fast my two in case they see fit to +come to life again before they're needed, the dirty +Dutch swine. I wonder what I once did to this +party with the unpleasant moustache." +</p> + +<p> +"And now," said Mr. Holroyd when the operation +was ended, "we can't take it for granted that all +four of these mummified gentlemen were orphans. +The odds are that at any rate one of them has a +dear friend who'll inquire for him. The only +question is, how soon will they begin to get +anxious." +</p> + +<p> +"The answer to that is just under the window. +There are a blessed regiment of them; the place +is as German as Hamburg; and though it would +tickle me finely to stay and see it out with them, +business is business, and that cotton is waiting for +attention before we can afford to waste time on +pleasure. We must skin out of this spot, one-time." +</p> + +<p> +"But how, Most Wise? According to you the +doors will be guarded." +</p> + +<p> +"Quite so. But the roofs won't be—yet at +any rate. Get that portmanteau with the chemicals, +and come along. I mapped out the course from +the square below before we came in." +</p> + +<p> +"Me for the cat-act on the tiles," said Mr. Holroyd +cheerfully. +</p> + +<p> +"And don't use that low-down theatre talk, or +you'll be getting my boot into you. I'll not have +my ears contaminated. I was on the edge of +composing a pleasant bit of verse then, before you +blundered in and put me off.'" +</p> + +<p> +That retreat across the roofs deserves a chapter +to itself, but space cannot be afforded in this brief +memoir. The roofs were high-pitched and the +passage eminently dangerous. Moreover, to have +detached tiles and let these clatter to the street +below would have advertised their passage, and +so had to be avoided at all costs. But Holroyd +developed an unexpected activity (which he +explained by saying he had been in the gym eight +at Rugby), and Captain Kettle climbed like a +sailor that he was. And in the end, after they +had clambered half-a-mile from the hotel, they +found an unoccupied attic, and entered it to sit +down and rest. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle looked with distaste at his soiled +knees and grimy hands and did his best to remedy +these with the help of his pocket-handkerchief. In +his sea days he had always been noted for his +personal spruceness, and though he was now the +complete farmer, his tastes in this direction had +not changed. I found out once that a firm in +Piccadilly makes a square-topped bowler hat for +him specially. +</p> + +<p> +"Now," said the sailor, "we've created a lot +more interest in ourselves than is wholesome, and +I hate advertising anyway. We've work to do, +and we've got to get somewhere quiet to do it. +The place they're likely to hunt for us least in will +be a truck or a coach in a train that's going to +start sometime for Germany. Main thing is, we +must pick one that's not going to start too soon, +and one also that commands a view of those cotton +bales. D'ye think you can find all that in the +dark?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sure I can't." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I'm sure I can. That's the advantage +of a sea education. Walk delicately down these +steps, and if anybody interferes, bottle him." +</p> + +<p> +They trod like mice down dark and resounding +stairways, expecting alarms at every turn. Doors +yawned at them on every landing. From the +third half-pace a rat's eyes gleamed at them and +then were noiselessly eclipsed. But not till they +had got to the ground floor was there a sound of +human life. There on the right, a door lay open, +with the room beyond it extravagantly lit with +showy electrics. In a great blue satin arm-chair +a blowsy servant girl sprawled and snored. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle was always a man with neat +instincts. "The hussy," he said. "Lady Kettle +has trouble with them just the same. And, of +course, all the lights are on and running to waste. +The papers may preach till they're black in the +face, but you'll never get that sort to practise +war-time economy." +</p> + +<p> +Then they went out into the evening streets, +mingled coolly with the stolid crowd, and went +their ways without let or hindrance. +</p> + +<p> +The city was old, and its streets wandered as +waterside streets do. On two occasions the +dead-reckoning of even Captain Kettle led them to turn +off to a wrong direction, to his own wrath, and to +his friend's amusement. "I love to hear you get +mad," Mr. Holroyd chuckled, "when you miss a +simple turning. I, personally, have no more idea +than an unborn Astrakan lamb whether our way is +north or south, or indeed which is north or south." +</p> + +<p> +"Quite so," snapped Kettle. "It is not your +job to know. It is mine. Bear away to starboard, +please, and give me a spell with the portmanteau. +If weight means anything, it should contain a +powerful lot of your fire-raisers. I wish to goodness +we'd got out earlier, before the telegraph offices +were shut. I want to get another message through." +</p> + +<p> +"Want to telegraph your report of what we've +done up to date to the War Office?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir, not now. I want to wire Lady Kettle +not to give Arthur curd cheesecakes. She always +does it if I don't remind her every time he comes +to stay with us, and they always upset him. Then +her ladyship takes it as a reflection on her cooking, +and there's a row, and the girl usually leaves.... +No, don't go that way, or you'll step into a canal. +We must walk round the next block before we come +to the railway yards." +</p> + +<p> +To gain a hiding-place, when they came to the +chosen ground seemed impossible. The whole +quay-space was lit as bright as day with sizzling +arc-lamps, and work was proceeding at three times +normal speed. The phlegmatic natives were being +hustled by Prussians. Every third man there +seemed Prussian, square shouldered, and capable. +To carry on the Great War Germany needed cotton +for explosives, and this was one of the ways she +saw that she got it. But it was to this press and +bustle that the two Britons owed immunity. +Everybody was too busy to bother with them. Anybody +who spared them a thought imagined that they +were helping Germany. +</p> + +<p> +There was a concrete water-tower at the flank +of one of the warehouses, its head above the reflection +of the arc lamps, its front lit like day, its back in +black shadow. A ladder-way led to the top, +luckily on the dark side. Up this Captain Kettle +led, laboriously carrying the portmanteau with him. +Holroyd followed. And in due time the pair of +them, sweating and exhausted, lay and panted on +the wooden covering of the tank high up above the +area of the light. A stork's nest, with Madame +Stork in possession, occupied one corner of the +roof-space. The intruders apologized for their +disturbance and the lady continued her duties unruffled. +</p> + +<p> +A train of box cars clanked out to the eastward, +jolting noisily over the turntables. +</p> + +<p> +"By James!" said Captain Kettle, pulling +himself together. "Every second we sit idling +here means a gain to somebody who is selling cotton, +and a waste of English soldiers' lives. Open your +magazine, and give me one of the guns. You +take the bales to the left, and I'll pelt those to the +right. And for the Lord's sake don't make a noise, +or we'll have these swine coming up and wanting +to make a fuss, and we'll have to waste time killing +them instead of getting busy with that cotton." +</p> + +<p> +The two pumped up the reservoirs of their air-guns, +inserted the composite wad of fluxite and +slow detonator, took aim at one of the ragged +untidy cotton bales below, and pulled trigger. +</p> + +<p> +In a way it was not exciting work; there were +none of the accompaniments of ordinary shooting; +there was no noise beyond an almost apologetic +"click"; there was no flash; there was no +movement on the part of the target to register a hit. +Even Madame Stork did not notice the firing. +"The little beasts just quietly imbed +themselves," Holroyd had said, "without so much as a +rustle. They only get about an inch in, and the +cotton closes over them, and there's nothing to see +unless you know what to look for. Then a bit +later they go off in a swirling blaze. I tried that +on a cotton bale at Liverpool. I've often wondered +whose bale it was. I should like to have told the +owner he was suffering for his country's good." +</p> + +<p> +Men and trucks and cranes were handling many +of the bales immediately beneath them, and loading +these into covered box cars. They were careful +not to touch these men, but always shot at bales +that were marked for next handling. Lives, +British lives, depended on their quickness. +</p> + +<p> +"By James!" said Captain Kettle at the end +of the first half-hour, "if this stuff of yours doesn't +go off, my lad, I'll wring your neck." +</p> + +<p> +"Go on shooting for another ten minutes," +replied the other coolly, "and I'll show you. You're +as bad as young Arthur and the curd cheesecakes, +m'lord; you're too anxious for quick results.... +Gee-whiz! I take that back, though. There you are!" +</p> + +<p> +A roman candle of flame spouted suddenly from +one of the brown and white bales beneath them, +sending up gouts of burning cotton into the night +for the fingers of the breeze to spread. Here +seemed the commencement of a bonny blaze. But +a sharp guttural order barked out, and men dropped +everything and ran, and returned in a matter +of seconds dragging hoses from which the water +already spouted. +</p> + +<p> +"Smart, that," commented Captain Kettle with +a disciplinarian's appreciation. "Ah, there you +are, my lad, our big German with the moustaches +I dislike, and the manners I'm not going to put up +with. Seems to think he owns this city. Well, +he'll probably get taught otherwise. But I wish I +could remember where it was I met that swine +before, and what I did to him." +</p> + +<p> +But no extinguishing appliances were efficient +to cope with those fluxite fires. Bale after bale +broke into flame, and spouted destruction. A +train of cars got nervous and pulled out, but the +jolting irritated its simmering combustion, and it +fled hooting and clattering away through the night +towards Germany, in a perfect ribbon of flame. +</p> + +<p> +The bales in the open popped and burned like +coals, the warehouses caught and burst like over-ripe +pods, and the vessels in the basin, despite their +hurried casting-off of shore fasts were smitten in +their turn, and burned like torches also. +</p> + +<p> +"I hope you're satisfied," the inventor exulted. +"About time we quitted. Even that blessed +stork is getting uneasy." +</p> + +<p> +"Not whilst we've this handful of cartridges +left. That man who doesn't like me is going to +save the train over there to the Nor'ard if we don't +look lively. We'll shoot everything we've left at +that, and trust to luck that one of the pellets goes +off with a short fuse." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm getting cooked. This tower is made of +ferro-concrete, which they say doesn't burn. So +we shall merely cremate. When they're examining +our cinders they'd probably decide we were Parsees. +By gad, Captain, look at your pal. Did you fire +the shot that set light to him, or did I?" +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle stared down at the train on the +northward siding. The energetic man with the +eyeglasses and the upturned moustaches who was +trying to save it, suddenly clutched at his clothes, +and then crumbled into flame. But he did not +cry out. He ran quickly round the corner of the +building, and was lost to the watchers' sight, and +there is the end of him as far as this memoir +is concerned. +</p> + +<p> +"You aren't shooting any more?" asked Holroyd. +</p> + +<p> +"I've given them my last cartridge." +</p> + +<p> +"So have I. I wonder which of us bagged your +pal. What about catching the last 'bus home?" +</p> + +<p> +"After you, my lad," said Captain Kettle. "By +James! I wish I could remember what I did to +that man. Hullo, there goes Mrs. Stork. Now, +quick down that ladder, or we shall cook." +</p> + +<p> +Once more, to avoid custom-house and passport +formalities, Captain Kettle and his friend let the +mail-boat take her trip without them, and crossed +to England by another less obvious route. The fare +on board was meagre, and they went to an inn at +the unobtrusive port to which their boat was +consigned to supply the void. They found there an +English paper. +</p> + +<p> +"I see," said Mr. Holly Holroyd over his chop, +"that there have been cotton fires at that place +where we've been, but they're quite unimportant +and no damage was done." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not in the least a betting man," said Captain +Kettle, "as betting is a thing the Wharfedale +Particular Methodists strongly disapprove of, but +I'll stand you two days' rabbit shooting on my +farm if cotton isn't made contraband before the +month's up." +</p> + +<p> +"How's that?" +</p> + +<p> +"At the time I sent that first wire about Arthur +and the butterfly bottle I happened to send another +to a British M.P. I knew, telling him he might +expect that the cotton shipment his friends had +got through would be spoiled, and that the dose +would be repeated if needful. I guess that man +knows when to come in out of the wet." +</p> + +<p> +"You're a marvel," said Mr. Holroyd. "I +was intended for the diplomatic service myself if I'd +passed high enough out of Harrow, but the good +old Governor went phut for two millions in nitrates +just then, and I had to go in for medicine instead. +But I should never have been your equal in +diplomacy. Well, there's one thing I bagged out of +this trip and that's an option on a £100,000 parcel +of German dyewares now in——er——, the neutral +country where we've been operating. No trouble +at all importing them, and Bradford's aching for +all it can get. I shall make a cool fifty thou'." +</p> + +<p> +"You've a great head on you," said Captain +Kettle, "though some of the things in it are a bit +hard to follow. I hope that boy Arthur's all right, +but between ourselves Lady Kettle spoils him +dreadfully, and I expect he'll have a liver on him +like a Strasburg goose by the time I get back." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> + +<h2> +IV +<br><br> +GUN-RUNNERS +</h2> + +<p> +Captain Image prided himself on turning +out fine active West African mates. It is +true that a good many officers succumbed +to his treatment, but the survivors were notorious +for being able to get through more work in a given +time, and for giving way less to disease, than any +set of mates on the Coast. As the Liverpool office +will testify. +</p> + +<p> +But the new Fourth he had shipped on the +<i>M'poso</i> (vice a predecessor smashed under a +surf boat on the beach of the Grand Bassa) frankly +puzzled him. +</p> + +<p> +"The young pup actually asked me this morning +if he could do the navigation for me," he told his +purser over their morning refreshment. +</p> + +<p> +"These brass-edged upstarts," said Mr. Balgarnie, +"are brought up that way on some of the +other runs now, I believe. Your boy's overloaded +this cocktail with angostura again." +</p> + +<p> +"Much angostura makes easy swizzling. You're +quite right: that's a cocktail only fit for a +passenger. Jones, this new Fourth calls himself, and +that makes the third Jones I've got on the <i>M'poso</i> +this minute, and bring the number of Joneses on +the Coast up to three hundred and ninety six. +Rum thing is, Balgarnie me man, he isn't Welsh +either." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you ought to be a judge of that," said +the Purser with sly malice. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Image scowled. His nationality was a +sore point with him. "Look you now, me lad, +go steady. I've knocked fellows down for saying +what I know you've got on the edge of your tongue. +So let's get back to business—I mean this Fourth +Mate. I put him on to chipping paint, and watched +him start. Believe you me, he'd less idea of the +job than the ordinary Liverpool dock rat. I took +him out of earshot of the man and gave him my +views. I said 'You've got to get quit of a lot of +those airs and starched collars before you're going +to be any good to me, me lad,' I said. 'Very good, +sir,' says he as civil as begob. 'Where did you +pick up those manners?' I said. 'Are you Royal +Naval Reserve?' I said. 'I am not, sir,' says he. +'In fact very much the reverse,' he says. 'But I +hope, sir,' he says, 'that after I've shaken down to +the ways of the ship you'll find I can carry on as +well as any officer you've got.'" +</p> + +<p> +"H'm," said Mr. Balgarnie. "'Carry on.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Precisely," said Captain Image, signing to his +Krooboy to hand the second cocktails. "Plain +Navy talk." +</p> + +<p> +"May have been sheer frills." +</p> + +<p> +"When we get down to the Coast, I'll sweat the +frills off him, the young pup. Thinks he's going +to lib for top deck and run the tally desk, I expect. +Well, he'll learn what it is to be down in a hold +breaking out cargo with the thermometer at fifty +above par." +</p> + +<p> +"You promised to call at the Dutchman's factory +up the Brass River this time." +</p> + +<p> +"And if there's water enough for the old packet, +I'll go. The Dutchman should have a hundred +mahogany logs ready for me. If the fever's been +good to him he may have as many as a hundred +and twenty. It will be Mr. Fourth Mate's job to +hook those five-ton logs on to our winch chains, +and after he's stood for a couple of days up to his +chin in that stinking mud off the Dutchman's +beach, I'll give you further news of him—the +smooth-faced young pup." +</p> + +<p> +Now from the Steamboat Company's point of +view the spheres of interest along the West African +seaboard are clearly demarcated, and seldom +interlap. London boats work the North West coast +from Tangier to Mogador, and go no further south +now that Agadir is a closed port. The Germans +and the French compete with them to a certain +extent, and as they are helped and the British are +hindered by their respective Home Governments, +they are likely to get more of the trade. Then +comes a gap: there is no regular service to the +Saharan seaboard. But occasional French steamers +do the bulk of the shipping from Senegal, and from +there onwards, past Sierra Leone, Liberia, the Ivory +Coast, the Gold Coast and the Bight, down to the +Oil Rivers, Liverpool steamcraft carry trade, +traders, and missionaries, soldiers and +administrators, with weekly regularity. British steamers +under the Belgian flag serve the Congo. And there +are other arrangements, also clearly defined, for +Portuguese Angola, British Walfish Bay (which is +the entry port for German South West Africa), and of +course for Cape Town. +</p> + +<p> +The main point to carry in mind, however, during +the reading of this memoir is that the West African +seaboard is by no means all British; the ownership +is shared also by French, Spaniards, Moors, +Portuguese, Liberians and Germans; so that when +hereafter I speak of The Other Power, there is +enough geographical vagueness to avoid international +trouble. The reason for this will appear +later. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>M'poso</i> was a Black-Funnel boat, and +with decent luck should have come to her end some +ten years ago. But no bar on the Coast could +break in both of her bottoms (though all had tried), +and Captain Image stuck to her, though promotion +was often offered to him. A bigger boat of course +meant more passengers; but the slow old <i>M'poso</i> +putting into half-forgotten creeks up the rivers, or +rolling her rails under off surf-smitten beaches +where no decent steamer dare risk her anchors +always staggered home loaded to her marks. +A mail steamer may be decorative, but there are +heavy fines for loss of time, and mail-boat passengers +on the West Coast expect to drink like fish at the +skipper's expense, and entertainment allowances +are always inadequate. Moreover, it is a solid +commercial fact that the Black Funnel Co. pay a +big commission to their Masters on cargo secured. +And that is where Captain Image really scored. +He was known to have a nose for cargo second to +none on the Coast, and the grey-headed owner with +the imperial who ran the Line gave him a free hand +to hunt for cargo anywhere he liked along that +unhealthy seaboard.... +</p> + +<p> +"The Old Man seems down on you," said Mr. Price +the Third Mate to Mr. Jones the Fourth, with +whom he shared a room above the boilers. "Well, +he hates frills and he expects his mates to work +nine days a week and twenty-eight hours a day, +and you don't look cut out for that. I guess he +spotted you were an R.N.R." +</p> + +<p> +"But I'm not." +</p> + +<p> +The old Third raised his dyed eyebrows. "Oh, +well, if you tell me you are not, there's an end +of it. Don't talk. Look you: I want a bit of sleep." +</p> + +<p> +The Fourth Mate inspected himself in the glass. +"If only I'd had sense enough to grow a +moustache," he told himself humorously, "I should +have steered to windward of a lot of trouble. As +it is, that old palm oil ruffian of a skipper seems +to sniff Navy Pattern somewhere. However, thank +the Lord for a thick hide: I guess I shall need it. +They might have the decency to give officers separate +rooms on these tanks, or else provide them with +efficient exhaust silencers for when they're asleep. +My Christian Aunt! How that Welshman snores. +Well, it's one comfort to know he will be quite +unconscious of the fact of my absence, so I'll just +trot off to Number Three Hold and get on with my +forgeries..." +</p> + +<p> +Now at Abadah, which is the chief port of entry +of a certain Third Class British Colony, the Colonial +Secretary, who was acting Governor for the time +being, vice the proper Governor invalided home, +was in a state of considerable anxiety. He tapped +a cigarette paper full of quinine, rolled it up, and +washed it down with a wineglass of weak whisky +and water, and irritably waved away the black +house boy who came to announce dinner. +</p> + +<p> +"I no fit for chop." +</p> + +<p> +"But I am," said Craigie, the Commandant of +the Hausa Constabulary. He scratched himself +because he was suffering from prickly heat, and +nodded to the house boy, who took the hint and +vanished. "Look here, old man. I know you're +worried, and I know also that your head's ringing +like a bell with that infernal quinine, but if you +don't eat you'll crack up, and that's a thing that +can't be allowed." +</p> + +<p> +"Barring suicide, getting decently invalided +home seems the only way out of my particular mess +just now. And," the Acting-Governor nodded +significantly, "I'm not the only man who has faced +those two alternatives and made his choice." +</p> + +<p> +The Commandant quite understood the reference +to His Excellency the late Governor, and +nodded agreement. "But," said he, "you're not +that kind of jellyfish. It isn't your fault that we've +another slackback at the Colonial Office at home, +and you get neither backing nor encouragement, +and are left to hold the dog. If the—the Other +Power mops up the hinterland and ruins the Colony, +you'll be held up to infamy as the rascal responsible, +and if you back Great Britain and do your +duty, the odds are you get recalled for spoiling the +game of some trumpery politician at home. It's +a sweet choice, but there's not the smallest doubt +as to what you must do." +</p> + +<p> +"I know that," snapped the Acting-Governor, +"and of course I'm going to see the thing through. +You needn't reel out any more of your platitudes, +and I suppose you're hungry if I am not, so we may as +well have chop. Curse this heat. The thermometer's +been steadily going up for three days now, and if that +threatened tornado doesn't come along soon to clear +the air, I believe I shall go out in an apoplexy." +</p> + +<p> +Now in that no man's country, the Abadah +hinterland, there was chronic war, and so far as local +history travelled backward there always had been +chronic war. In theory every one deplored this, +and successive Governors had reported strongly in +favour of annexation, and presenting the troubled +area with the Pax Britannica. Incidentally, as all +the trade of the Colony came from the hinterland, +commerce would be assisted, but this fact was kept +in the background of late, as the Hypocritical Party +was in power at home, and as they were mostly +traders themselves or came of trading stock, they +always assumed an unctuous pose of righteousness, +and refused to countenance any annexation that +was not first proposed by the missionaries of their +particular denominations. +</p> + +<p> +As a glaring alternative it was pointed out that +the Other Power was aching to annex. The Other +Power worked the Press in its usual way, and protested +that it could not afford to have a bear garden +on its doorstep. It clamoured aloud that its interests +suffered, that the cause of humanity was being +neglected, and so on. And once the Other Power +seized that hinterland, of course it would clap on its +usual tariffs to divert trade to its own port, and +Abadah would be ruined. +</p> + +<p> +"And the utmost the present Hypocrites at home +can rise to," the Acting-Governor summed up, "is +that I should try moral influence on these hinterland +tribes. One might as well try to shift the Equator +with a hymn tune. And they're cutting down the +Colonial forces every half-year. As a point of fact, +what is the total of the Hausa Constabulary now? +My head's so full of quinine I can't remember the +simplest figures." +</p> + +<p> +"Two hundred and thirty-eight effectives. By +the way, you remember that eminent politician who +called us butcher mercenaries in the House of +Commons the other day? That pretty phrase +has been copied into the local rag here, and improved +upon, and my native officers tell me the men are +beginning to kick." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't see why they shouldn't. By the way, +d'you know the Abadah <i>Times and Echo</i> has +changed proprietors?" +</p> + +<p> +"I didn't. I thought that snuff-and-butter-coloured +barrister chap, Quablah Smith owned it." +</p> + +<p> +"He's just sold out to Schmaltz." +</p> + +<p> +The Commandant scratched himself thoughtfully +and whistled. "Who owns, or is said to own, +or at any rate who manages, that big new Dutch +factory at the head of the town where they sell under +cost (so I hear) and buy above the market, and live +like fighting cocks on what must be a very heavy +net loss per annum. I suppose Schmaltz has been +sent by those blighters who are trying to bag our +hinterland. By Jove, Crawford, aren't they +thorough? Actually nobbling the local Press in our +own twopenny capital." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, they're thorough enough," said the +Acting-Governor grimly, "and plodding, and systematic. +They've had the whole scheme cut and dried and +docketed in their Colonial Office any time this past +twenty years, and my distinguished predecessors +in office have tumbled to it for ten, and have +reported strongly. As a total result the Colonial +Office has now woke up to the fact that they've +been sending our official letters here by a round-about +route for the past century, and now post them +by the direct boat. Looks as if one of these new chaps +they've got into the Cabinet had bought an atlas." +</p> + +<p> +Now as it happened, the Other Power, which had +set up a new diplomatic doctrine of doing things +first and explaining them afterwards, had made a +far more comprehensive network of preparations +than even the men on the spot guessed at. All the +world knew that Dr. Carl Josephs was one of the +great modern authorities on West African lepidoptera. +But no one apparently worried about where +the bearded and be-spectacled Dr. Carl found the +money to finance his beautifully equipped expeditions. +At the end of each trip he issued a sumptuous +volume, lavishly illustrated by the three-colour +blocks (London: Schünemann Gebruden. £5 5s. net); +but as moneyed butterfly hunters are few, +one concludes that the circulation was limited, and +probably did not meet the cost of publication. +</p> + +<p> +It was perfectly true that the Herr Doctor had +brought home several butterflies hitherto unknown +to science, and if one were in a scoffing mood one +might point out that any other earnest student who +cares to hunt through any little-known section of +West Africa can do the same. But the expense of +such an expedition is heavy, and I can recommend +Dr. Carl Josephs' plan of getting a government +subsidy to cover it. Especially is it handy to have +a subsidy that is not reported in any parliamentary +return, and so is beyond lewd criticism. That is +the great advantage of having one's income provided +for under the secret service estimates. +</p> + +<p> +The smart new Colonial Secretary of the Other +Power has been adversely criticised for many of his +appointments, but he made no mistake when he +picked Dr. Carl Josephs as his missionary of empire +in the Abadah hinterland. The man had health, +and he had prudence; his genius for entomology +was the most perfect of disguises; moreover he had +a gift of tongues, no conscience whatever, and a +talent for gaining the friendship of savages such as +is only possessed by the one man in the million. +He could promise and he could perform. He gave +gramophones, magnetic shocking coils, and patent +leather sword belts. He did a lot of very lucky +doctoring in a smallpox district, and he scored with +the biggest headman of the lot by the prediction +of an eclipse. +</p> + +<p> +Nautical almanacs are not common currency in +the bush at the back of Abadah, and when the sun +was shut out at the prophesied hour, the whole +tribe admitted the miracle. But the headman +stuck out for further bounty. He had a repeating +rifle—an early pattern Winchester. He must have +a thousand more. He would not sell his country +for less. Dr. Josephs knew the trouble of smuggling +arms of precision into Africa in the teeth of +international law, and offered two thousand gaspipe +flint-locks with cherry red stocks and nickelled +heel-plates. Quoth the headman, "I can get those +myself if I choose to make my people collect rubber. +Either the Winchesters, or I sit tight." +</p> + +<p> +"Then the Winchesters you shall have," said +Dr. Carl Josephs. "On my head be it. And when +they come you shall use them against those cursed +British who have spoiled your slave trade, and want +to cut down your crucifixion tree, and will not even +give you a good price for your palm oil and kernels. +And to show the generosity of my master, the great +Emperor, who will come in to protect your country, +I will give you above and beyond the rifles, +cartridges in number past thinking, which you have not +even asked for. Then you can drive the British +into the sea, and loot Abadah." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said the headman doubtfully. "But I +couldn't stay there. Their ships would come with +cannon that shoot a thousand miles." He was a +travelled headman. He had served once in the +stokehold of a West Coast gunboat, and remembered +wistfully the range of a four point seven gun. +</p> + +<p> +"When you had looted the place, and got their +gin, and their concertinas, and their tinned salmon, +and that skew-eyed billiard table at Government +House, and—and those big French hats the Colonial +Secretary's wife does such a line in, why then my +dark friend you can retreat on your ancestral +middens here, and—I'll guarantee you'll find them +strongly held." +</p> + +<p> +The headman licked his big lips. "Is there much +gin now in Abadah?" +</p> + +<p> +"Just oceans," said Dr. Carl Josephs. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * +</p> + +<p> +Here, then, were the ingredients for a very pretty +little international turmoil, and the Colonial +Secretary of the Other Power rubbed his be-ringed and +manicured hands and congratulated himself that +Great Britain could not this time "muddle through +somehow" after her usual habit by any possible +means whatever. "I am sorry for the poor old +Herr Bull," said the Colonial Secretary, "and my +tailor in London is a man for whom I could forgive +his country much. But we are the nation of the +present and the future, and we intend to have our +place in the sun. Back numbers must suffer. And +the guns shall go out by one of their own fool ships. +Then there can be no back reckonings. American +guns, ferried over in an English boat, landed at a +British port, and carried to a country the greedy +British are trying to annex. De—licious!" +</p> + +<p> +But on the seas at that particular moment was a +clean-shaved, red-faced young man, who gave the +well-known West African name of Jones, and bore +the rank of Fourth Officer on the S.S. <i>M'poso</i>, +and as no other reason for his presence has ever +transpired, one can only suppose that he was sent +there by that blind Providence which is so well +known by a sneering Europe to look after the +incompetent British Empire. Mr. Jones at that date was +having a particularly evil time of it. He had filled +the mind of Captain Image with suspicion, and that +potentate was engaged in "sweating the frills off +him." Mr. Jones, who fancied himself as an actor, +had done his best to adapt himself to all the +requirements of the West African junior mate, but he had +glaringly failed in many things, and in his very +attempts the peppery Captain Image saw cause of offence. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you think is the latest?" he demanded +one sweltering day of the plump Mr. Balgarnie. +"I sent him ashore yesterday in a surf boat to bring +off a few bags of kernels from Swizzle-stick Smith's +factory at Malla Nulla, and he actually had the +nerve to teach his Elmina boys to toss their paddles +as they came up to the guess-warp alongside." +</p> + +<p> +"Man o' war fashion." +</p> + +<p> +"Precisely, the smooth-faced young pup. So +after I'd given him my tongue, I put him in the other +surf boat with those Sa' Leone Krooboys." +</p> + +<p> +"And as they know their rights," said the Purser +rather bitterly, "there'd be no use tampering with +them. And as there's been a shocking bad beach +to-day, and as those Christian Kroos are rotten bad +boat boys, he'll have had a gay time of it landing." +</p> + +<p> +Captain Image winked a watery eye. "Spilt +three times, so I hear, though he didn't report it. +And knowing old Swizzle-stick's beach, I should +guess he'd swallow enough Atlantic and seaweed to +last him a lifetime. But the pup's a sticker, I will +say that for him. He had his boat all ready to go +ashore again when I decided the beach was too bad, +and hove up and steamed on." +</p> + +<p> +"Why's he always messing about in Number +Three Hold when he's supposed to be off watch?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, that's all right, Purser me lad. He asked +me one day if he was expected to tally cargo. I +said yes, unless he proposed to play amusing tunes +on the grand piano whilst somebody else did his +work for him. 'Then, sir,' says he, 'as I shouldn't +like you to find me inefficient when the time comes, +would you mind my going down beforehand to see +how the cargo's stowed?' Well, I wasn't civil, but +I said he could go if he felt incompetent and was +minded to waste his time that way. To tell the +truth I didn't see how I could refuse." +</p> + +<p> +"It is awkward sometimes to think of the right +repartee on the spur of the moment. But I noticed +you stuck up for him when that Dutchman +came aboard breathing thunder and blitzen off +Abadah." +</p> + +<p> +Captain Image's complexion deepened to a fine +plum colour. "I'm skipper aboard here, Mr. Balgarnie +me lad, and though I do allow liberties with +traders who ship cargo, it is best they should always +remember my true position. Besides, as regards +Schmaltz, although we bring him a big tonnage out +from home, he's never shipped so much as a ton of +cargo by the <i>M'poso</i> for the run North." +</p> + +<p> +Cargo from Liverpool interested Captain Image +little. But on every ton of cargo picked up on the +Coast he drew commission, and somewhat naturally +West African cargo was the chiefest of his life's +interests. He was believed in the Liverpool office +to have the keenest nose for cargo in the trade, but +even there they did not realize the wealth of +diplomacy he expended over the gathering of it. +</p> + +<p> +"That man Schmaltz is a fraud," Captain Image +went on, "and he's neither bottom nor sides to his +stomach. Last time I was round here I asked him +aboard for chop. Instead of the usual two +preliminary cocktails he had six. He must have +necked at least three bottles of Castle Hamburg +champagne for dinner, and didn't even put +angostura in it. He said he could do with some port +after, and cost me a couple of pints, and then I +started to drink him level at whisky and soda. +Well, Balgarnie me lad, you know what I am on +that?" +</p> + +<p> +"I do," said the stout Purser feelingly. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, he was a tin wonder. I'll admit to being +inclined to recite poetry myself by the time we +knocked off, but he hadn't so much as stirred a +hair. But as for cargo, I might as well been asking +for his gold nuts." +</p> + +<p> +"Bland way with him too, hasn't he?" +</p> + +<p> +"Bland, d'ye style it? I should call it +b—— Yes, Mr. Price?" +</p> + +<p> +The old third officer, with half an inch of white +showing at the roots of his dyed hair reported that +his room-mate the Fourth was down with fever. +</p> + +<p> +"Ungrateful young skrimshanker, just when I +was beginning to make a useful mate of him. Well, +Mr. Price me lad, as you know, I can be hospitable +even to a junior mate. Come along to the chart +house, and I'll give you a couple of pills. Let him +take those in half a tumbler of whisky together +with a cigarette paper full of quinine, and he'll be +ready for work to-morrow. Has he been wandering +at all in his talk, Mr. Price? Has he let on at all +where he served before he came on the <i>M'poso</i>?" +</p> + +<p> +"He's said little, except to abuse me for snoring, +which is a thing I never do. But look you, when I +come to think of it, he has talked of guns and again +of guns." +</p> + +<p> +"Navy," said the Purser. +</p> + +<p> +"Look you, I thought it was his cheeky way of +referring to my breathing." +</p> + +<p> +"Navy," said Captain Image. "It's written all +over him in plain red clean-shaved print. That'll +do, Mr. Price. There are the pills, and don't let +them roll out of your fist. Here, I'll just flatten +them. There, that's safe. Yes, he's been Navy, +Balgarnie me lad, an officer too, and he's skipped. I +wonder what for? However that's his palaver. He's +here now, and if he doesn't peg out, with God's help, +I'll make him into an efficient West Coast Fourth +Mate. Between ourselves I liked the way he stood +up to Schmaltz, although you can bet your sweet +life I didn't let him guess that. There was nothing +of the flare up about him, no language, not so much +as a hard-shut first even. He was just coolly polite. +Reminded me of a play actor I saw once at the +Court Theatre who was pretending to be a gentleman. +If he'd blustered, I really believe Schmaltz +would have hit him, and been glad of the chance. +He was as mad as he could stick." +</p> + +<p> +"What did happen exactly? I never heard the +proper tale." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Schmaltz had got some goods consigned +in the ordinary way. Hardware it was invoiced +as, and I suppose altogether the lot ran up to about +three tons in weight. It was hove up and dropped +into the surf boats, and paddled ashore in the usual +way. There was, as I say, a good handful of it, +and as you remember there was a bad run of surf +that day, and so they were getting it ashore pretty +slowly. But no sooner does the first lot get dumped +on his beach, than off comes Schmaltz in the return +boat in a towering rage. He'd been upset in the +surf coming off, and was wet to the skin and had +broken his specs, and I don't suppose that improved +his temper. Anyway he stormed up to the tally +desk and swore by ten thousand devils we'd sent +him off the wrong cargo, and done it on purpose." +</p> + +<p> +"'And what, sir, is your private mark?' asks +Mr. Navy Jones as cool as an ice cream." +</p> + +<p> +<img src="images/img-109.jpg" alt="S-in-a-ring-in-a-triangle">"'S-in-a-ring-in-a-triangle,' +says Schmaltz." +</p> + +<p> +"'Right,' says Navy. 'The responsibility of +sending off those goods is entirely mine. I see by +my tally sheet I have sent ashore to your address +seventeen cases marked S-in-a-ring-in-a-triangle. +From memory I can tell you that six were biggish +bundles, and the rest were rectangular and about the +size of—ar—ammunition boxes!'" +</p> + +<p> +"Navy again," said Mr. Balgarnie. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, it was Navy right through, Purser me lad. +And I'll not deny that for a change it's rather +amusing to hear it when you've run dry on your ordinary +tap of hard language. Ammunition boxes indeed! +I thought Schmaltz would have choked. But he's +the business man right enough. Trade first and +fun afterwards is his motto, and before Jones could +stop him he was climbing down into the hold himself." +</p> + +<p> +"'If you are such a dunderhead you can't look +after my cargo,' says Schmaltz, 'I'll go and pick it +out myself.' +</p> + +<p> +"'If you don't come up out of that hold one-time,' +says Mr. Fourth Mate, 'I'll have you sent in +a way that'll surprise you. The stuff down there's +under my charge, and I don't have it tampered +with by a half-drowned Dutchman anyway.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Good," said Mr. Balgarnie. "The pup's got +pluck. Schmaltz is twice his weight, at a low +estimate. And so he came up, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +"He did not, me lad. He went on clambering +unhandily down. Jones picks up a cargo sling and +heaves it to that second headman, Funnel-Paint, +who was at the bottom of the hold, and says he, +'When that Dutchman who is crawling down +comes within your reach, make him fast to the +winch chain. I want him up here. Savvy?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Savvy plenty,' says Funnel-Paint smartly +enough. I will say, Balgarnie me lad, the +smooth-faced young pup's got the knack of command, and +the hands always jump when he raps out an order. +So Mister Schmaltz when he steps out on the ground +floor finds himself grabbed by a dozen naked sweating, +stinking Krooboys, and hitched up in a cargo +sling, and hooked on to the winch chain, and jerked +aloft, and bashed against the sides of the hatch as +the old girl rolled. They ran him up to the sheave +wriggling like an eel snarled up in a fishing line, and +then they guyed the derrick outboard, and let him +go by the run to where a surf boat ought to have +been but wasn't. I guess the objections were +mostly drowned out of him by the time he was +hauled on board a boat and paddled to the +beach." +</p> + +<p> +"So perish all Dutchmen," said Mr. Balgarnie, +with emotion. He touched no cargo commission, +and could afford to let animosities spirt out which +his superior officer had to keep suppressed. "I've +wanted to kick that man myself most times I've +seen him, and the only reason I didn't was because +I thought he might be useful to you and the ship. +Let's hope a shark chops him next time he tries to +leave the shore." +</p> + +<p> +"Amen," said Captain Image. "I've no use +for any foreign devil palm oil ruffian who hasn't +cargo for me when I call off his factory. Why, +he's worse than a Belgian, that one." +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause, and then the stout Purser +coughed and said, "I'm wondering." +</p> + +<p> +"What's broke now?" inquired his friend and +senior officer. +</p> + +<p> +"Has Jones anything to do with that cheerful +drunk we've got down below in the First Class, who's +also a Dutchman, and who also had objections to +raise about his cargo?" +</p> + +<p> +"Name of Aaronstein Gebruden from that funny +little green painted factory in the Happy +Dutchland Colony?" +</p> + +<p> +"Aaronstein: that's him. Gebruden is Dutch +for 'And Co.' His objection was a bit of a mystery +to me, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, he came off from New Hamburg suffering +from a different kind of hot bearings. He'd cargo +consigned which he said differed from the invoice, +but he didn't kick. He wanted to stand Mr. Jones +a dash and seemed surprised when the d——d fool +wouldn't take it." +</p> + +<p> +"Navy again," said the Purser. +</p> + +<p> +"Obviously. But they argued it out quietly +enough." +</p> + +<p> +"'What's your mark?' says Jones. +</p> + +<p> +<img src="images/img-112.jpg" alt="Double-A-in-a-long-diamond"> "'Double-A-in-a-long-diamond,' says +Aaronstein. +</p> + +<p> +"'Were the goods you got marked with something +else?' asks Mr. Fourth Mate. +</p> + +<p> +"'They were not. They all had the +double-A-in-a-long-diamond, but——' +</p> + +<p> +"'I've nothing to do with your buts,' says Jones +smartly enough. +</p> + +<p> +"'If your goods have got the right mark on +'em that's the end of my funeral procession. And +you may take your drinks to a place where the +temperature's probably lower than it is here, and +where we've no reason to believe there's malarial +fever. I'm not thirsty.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Man,' says Gebruden in a pig's whisper you +could hear on the upper bridge, 'Man, you've sent +us wrong goods. I open a case: I expect to find +gramophone records: I see cartridges. I open +another. It should be fishing rods: it is——' +</p> + +<p> +"'Oh, go and boil your head,' says Mr. Fourth +Mate, 'and attend to your business, and don't +come bothering me. Is the stuff saleable?' +</p> + +<p> +"The Dutchman stared till his eyes stuck out +of his head like a lobster's. 'Oh, it's saleable +enough, Herr Jones,' says he. +</p> + +<p> +"'Then in heaven's name go and peddle it to +your dusky customers,' says my high-toned Fourth. +'I guess making a bargain is your mission in life.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Quite so, quite so,' says Gebruden. 'I only +wanted to be assured that the cargo was mine.' +</p> + +<p> +"'That I can't answer for,' says Mr. Fourth Mate +as chilly as you please, 'not having the pleasure +of your personal acquaintance. But these cases +belong to the shopkeeper whose mark is +double-A-in-a-long-diamond, and if he doesn't make the +most of them, he's a variegated fool.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Did he say 'variegated fool'?" asked the +Purser. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, I come to think of it, me lad, he did not. +He said 'silly fathead.'" +</p> + +<p> +"There you see, sir," said Mr. Balgarnie. "Navy +again." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Captain Image thoughtfully, "and +he wouldn't share. I wish the chance had come +my way." +</p> + +<p> +"Have there been some good pickings then?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know what cargo Gebruden expected. +Ordinary trade stuff, I suppose. And he'd have +gone grubbing along, and just keeping to windward +of bankruptcy as he has done these last dozen +years. The niggers don't bring trade into the +Dutch colonies if they can avoid it—prices too bad, +too many forms to fill up, too many officials to pay. +And then in this particular bit of the Happy Fatherland +there's that war still going on that they don't +seem able to stamp out, although they've got enough +troops on the job to conquer half Africa, you'd +think. If it wasn't for bringing officials and war +material, the port wouldn't be worth calling at. +Isn't that so, me lad?" +</p> + +<p> +"C'rect." +</p> + +<p> +"And how long did we stay there this run?" +</p> + +<p> +"Twenty-eight—no, twenty-seven hours." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Gebruden in that time seems to have +done more solid business than he's put through in +the preceding twelve years. He got his stuff ashore +and up to the factory; got the cases broken open +(presumably), and the goods displayed in the +feteesh; found customers; did a deal and got paid +in cash. And then, by whispers! he closes out the +rest of his business for cash also, and comes aboard +here with the family parrot and two heavy boxes +that look to me uncommonly like gold dust. He +doesn't wait for the Dutch boat. Nor would he +let you book him through to Happy Dutchland. +No, me lad, good old Liverpool's far enough for +him, and my idea is that he'll be calling himself +Macdonald before the year's out, and sitting behind +a big cigar in his own motor car, with an office in +Castle Street, and a county place in Cheshire. And +Mr. Navy Jones might at least have pocketed cumshaw, +to the tune of—say—a suit of clothes if he'd +known anything about the ways of the Coast." +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * +</p> + +<p> +Look now upon a final scene on board H.M.S. <i>Desolation</i>, +2nd class cruiser. Gunnery-Lieutenant +T.R.B. Lee-Wentworth, just returned from +special leave, had reported himself on board with +the usual formalities, and spent the balance of the +afternoon in taking over duty from his substitute. +</p> + +<p> +That evening he dined in state with his Captain, +and they talked briskly during the meal on the +absorbing topic of Service shop. But when the +cloth was cleared, and they sat alone over a glass +of port, the elder man suddenly laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"I ran down to Monte Carlo for a couple of +days," said he. +</p> + +<p> +"Hope you robbed the tables, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid it was the other way on. But there +was a man in Monte who interested me. He tried +to be a dressy man, and made rather a comic failure +of it. He'd been Colonial Secretary of Another +Power, and he'd just been sacked. Know anything +about it?" +</p> + +<p> +The Gunnery-Lieutenant grinned. "I'd like to +hear, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I can only tell what I picked up from +the papers. But you know they've had a war on +in their West African Colony for some considerable +time now, and recently the niggers have managed +to smuggle in a big consignment of modern rifles, +and they've been giving the Europeans fits." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah," said Gunnery-Lieutenant Lee-Wentworth. +"Of course I couldn't know that. I was at sea at +the time. Any news from Abadah, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, by Jove. Now they've been having a +busy time. They've got an energetic fellow called +Crawford as Acting-Governor, and he's taken the +bit in his teeth, and waltzed up into the hinterland +with an escort of half-a-dozen Hausa police, and +calmly proclaimed a protectorate over the whole +lot of it. Sad thing about that explorer johnny, +Josephs. Crawford found him decorating the local +crucifixion tree when he arrived at the cannibal +capital. I hear it hinted that Mr. Acting-Governor +rather took the wind out of the Government's sails, +but the thing's done and they can't repudiate it. +In fact the country was so pleased with Crawford's +pluck, that the Government's had to give him a +knighthood." +</p> + +<p> +Lee-Wentworth laughed. "Some fellows do have +all the luck." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said his Captain, "whilst the rest of us +have been working here in our chains you've had +a fine long enjoyable leave." +</p> + +<p> +"Which I'm afraid won't count much for promotion, +sir." +</p> + +<p> +"I shouldn't be too sure of that if I were you," +said the Captain dryly. "I have to report privately +on my officers, you know, and even the British +Admiralty sits up and takes notice if things are +put strongly enough. Have another glass of port. +I'm sure you've earned it after all the towelling +you've gone through. Here's luck, Tommy. I +wish I'd your prospects ahead of me." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> + +<h2> +V +<br><br> +THE INTERVENING WIRE +</h2> + +<p> +Captain Kettle tapped Dr. Mary Brown +sharply on the shoulder, and that lady woke +up with a start and shivered. She found +the world disgustingly cold, and wet, and dark. +But she was briskly alive to all possibilities. +</p> + +<p> +She leant towards Captain Kettle's ear and hissed: +"What is it?" +</p> + +<p> +The little sailor shrank decorously away. "Here, +Miss, take my glasses, and you can see for yourself." +</p> + +<p> +She did so, and peered out diligently into the +wet autumn night. +</p> + +<p> +Presently: "I can't see anything," she grumbled, +"and the rain's got down the collar of my oily, +and has soaked through the elbows. I know there +are waves, by the sound they make on the shingle, +but I can't see them. Was there ever a blacker +or colder night? And I wish you wouldn't call +me Miss." +</p> + +<p> +"No, Miss—I mean Doctor. But if you look +long enough till you get used to the dark, you'll +see a submarine's periscope. I can pick it up now +with the naked eye. It looks like a drain-pipe stuck +up on end and going dead slow, and there's a wake +of lighter water behind it. By James, Miss, look! +It's stopped now, and is growing longer. Mr. Submarine's +coming to the surface." +</p> + +<p> +A conning-tower rose out of the night sea, and +presently men sprouted from the top of it. The +decks of the submarine did not show, and the little +waves splashed diligently against the foot of the +superstructure. +</p> + +<p> +"Come up to get his bearings," commented +Captain Kettle. "I wonder what water he has +there; must be pretty shoal. Another fifty fathoms +on the old course and he'd have piled her up hard +and fast on the floor of Wales. Now, Miss—Doctor, +I mean—you'll see him go astern again till +he's reached deep water." +</p> + +<p> +The girl clutched Kettle's arm and shook it. +"You still won't believe me, and I still stick to it. +She's come in here for petrol, as she did the time +I told you about before. There, look! She's not +backing out to sea again as you said she would. +She's moving nearer." +</p> + +<p> +"By James, Miss, you're right! She's +creeping north along the coast. Is this the exact spot +where you saw her before?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid I couldn't tell to half a mile or so, +Captain. It was dark at the time." +</p> + +<p> +Kettle groaned, but forbore to say: "How like +a woman!" Instead he took back the glasses +and kept them steadily fixed on the enemy below. +</p> + +<p> +"She'll be out of sight if you don't take care. +Let's run along after her." +</p> + +<p> +"They'd spot us on the cliff-head here against +the sky in less than two ticks. Lie down again, +Miss, or I'll have to pull you. We may be on the +edge of a big thing here, and you're going the way +to spoil it. Lie down, Miss, I say. I'm in +command here, and you've asked me to treat you as +a man, and, by James, I'll do it if you don't sit +tight, much as I should regret it." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, very well," said Dr. Brown meekly. +</p> + +<p> +"I've got to own up, Miss, that the Dutchmen +at sea since this war began aren't the fools they +used to be. They've had sense booted into them +during the last thirty years, and it's stuck, and now +they're using it. There, you see, Miss, she hasn't +gone far. That noise meant reversed propellers. +They'd got her on to some cross-bearings on the +shore, and now they're stopping her, I should judge, +over some exact spot. You stay here, Miss. I +must get some cross-bearings, too, on where she is +now." +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Mary Brown's voice showed a tendency to +rise above the tone of her former cautious whisper. +"I'll come too. I'm half frozen to death, crouching +here. And besides, the—the beastly Germans may +land—and—and I should hate to be left alone." +</p> + +<p> +"Take my overcoat and wrap yourself in that," +said Kettle patiently, "and stay here. You can't +crawl about on this cliff-top without being seen. +I can. You needn't be scared of the Dutchmen's +landing, as they won't have a boat. And you +needn't be afraid of my not finding my way back to +you." +</p> + +<p> +"Not now you've left your coat," said Dr. Brown +spitefully. "I suppose you're sure to return for +that?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, Miss," said the sailor with simple +truth. "You see, it's my best one. If I'd only +known we were in for this rough and tumble, I'd +have brought the other. I hate spoiling clothes. +Good-bye for the present, and don't move, so that +I'll know where to find you again." +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle moved from the lady's side, and +with the craft of an old stalker was promptly +swallowed up by the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Now with regret it must be recorded that +Dr. Mary Brown was a disappointed young woman. +Brown, the father, was an easy-going man, and +well-off withal. He lived in Norfolk and bred +prize cocker spaniels, and his hope was that Mary +would stay at home till in due time she married one +or other of some dozen eligible neighbours, and +settle down near him. Mamma Brown, who was +stout and placid, and famed throughout three +counties for her begonias, coincided with these +views exactly. But Mary, who once went to a +lecture on Wasted Lives, stated she was not going +to waste hers, and decided that her use lay in +Medicine—via Girton. +</p> + +<p> +She qualified in this intricate science, and was +somewhat disillusioned in the process. Thereafter +she tried in a desultory way for various appointments. +Later, when these failed, she set up her +plate in Wych Street on the strength of a grudging +paternal allowance, and was still hoping for patients +when the war broke out. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly she conceived the notion of Doctor +Mary Brown's Private Hospital for British Soldiers +in France, and telegraphed for ample supplies. +But Brown the father didn't approve of women +doctors "messing about even women" in peace +time, and he thoroughly disapproved of their +"adding another horror for the soldiers maimed in war. +If the girl had turned vet. (like some of them turn +gardeners), and could doctor cockers, she might be +some use," said Brown the father. "As it is, she's +getting a bit of a dam' nuisance." +</p> + +<p> +"'Zactly, m'dear," said Mrs. Brown. "Just +hold me this skein of wool, will yaw?" +</p> + +<p> +So when a certain baroness (who shall otherwise +be nameless in this chronicle), finding that the game +of making herself a nuisance politically was put a +stop to for the time being, thought she would look +nice in a Red Cross kit, Dr. Brown was able to oblige +her by coming into the expedition as surgeon. +</p> + +<p> +The League-o'-Women's Hospital, after outstaying +its welcome in the London picture papers, moved +across to France, where it was known to the vulgar +as the All-Skirt Warriors, and was avoided by those +in authority. It wore the choicest thing in +top-boots and a bushranger hat, and as long as it was +peaceful and did nothing it was allowed to stay. +When it began to flirt with the wounded subaltern +in quantity, it was sent off home one-time, with a +flea in its ear. And Dr. Brown, refusing shelter +under the friendly ancestral roof, and feeling +mightily ashamed of herself for the company she +had fallen into, fled to the wilds of Wales to hide her +scalding blushes. It was during one moonlit night +of penitence that she saw a submarine sneak in and +suck up supplies from some unseen store beneath +the seas. +</p> + +<p> +In the first throb of interest she was minded to +go with her news direct to the Admiralty. But +with breakfast and reflection she changed her mind. +She remembered the brutal treatment lately meted +out to her by the Admiralty's sister institution, the +War Office, and was minded to take the credit of +whatever praise befell personally, and to sail for +the moment under the somewhat forgotten banner +of the suffragettes. As a point of fact, she cared +not one straw for the creed of the suffragettes, but +in war—which this was going to be—one needs a +flag. Even pirates fly a skull and marrowbones, +argent on sable. +</p> + +<p> +As she professed no knowledge of seacraft, an +executive was a necessity, and at once a name leapt +to her memory. Years ago she had met Sir Owen +Kettle for an hour on shipboard, and had never +forgotten him. Here was her man, if only she could +get him. She delved his address in Wharfedale +from Who's Who, and took train for Grassington +within the hour. +</p> + +<p> +I pass over a somewhat thorny interview with +Lady Kettle, who "though a business lady herself" +regarded "female doctors as indelicate," and get +on to the point where Captain Kettle, somewhat +by stealth, joined her at a six-house village on the +Welsh seaboard. Lady Kettle disliked her husband +having truck or dealing with any women whatever +outside his own household, and made no bones +about saying so, and the little mariner came armed +to the fray with strict admonitions on these lines, +as well as his own natural bashfulness. +</p> + +<p> +The tale, when it had been told him at first had +been sufficiently sensational, but it had grown +thinner under discreet cross-examination. The lady +was doubtful about locality, and she did not know +if the submarine was British or German. No, she +didn't think it could have been a fishing-boat she +had seen that night; she was morally certain it +must have been a submarine, though she could not +describe it in any way, and she could give no details +of how the vessel was getting the petrol inboard, +or where it was coming from. Only she was +convinced that was what the boat was there for. "You +must trust a woman's intuition," said Dr. Mary +Brown. But Captain Kettle didn't. He was always +a man without imagination. +</p> + +<p> +"If they've a lot of petrol tins anchored at the +bottom of this bay," said Captain Kettle, "it's +likely they'll have some sort of a buoy made fast +to the end of the mooring." +</p> + +<p> +"Then we could see it from the shore." +</p> + +<p> +"Not necessarily, if the buoy is merely a bit of +wood just awash. But we could hunt for it, Miss, +in a boat, if you think it worth while." +</p> + +<p> +"Call me Doctor, please. Of course it's worth +while. I'll hoist my suffragette flag on that +submarine before many days are over, when you catch +it for me, Captain. And in the meanwhile I have +a boat, a motor-boat, round at the fishing harbour. +We can bring her here and leave her in that cove of +rocks at the foot of the cliff there, when we're not +using her." +</p> + +<p> +This they did, and during three days quartered +the sea without success, and Captain Kettle grew +even more sceptical. But he stuck manfully to the +night watching, which Dr. Brown soon found wearying. +And then, to his surprise, came fulfilment, +as has been recorded above. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Dr. Mary Brown has admitted that she had half +a mind to follow Captain Kettle when he left her +to stalk the submarine, but was deterred by the +shrewd notion that he would shake her if she came +up to him. She was sure he would shake her politely, +but was confident he would do it efficiently. So +being a young woman with a full sense of her own +dignity, she decided to do as she was told for the +time being. +</p> + +<p> +But it was tedious work waiting. The Germans, +as she could see through the glasses now that she +had got accustomed to them, were full of activity. +The submarine was still awash, and wavelets +splashed in mimic surf at the foot of her conning-tower. +There was little to attract the eye in that +dark night unless one was looking for it specially. +The Germans might be replenishing their petrol +store, but Dr. Brown could not swear to it. In +fact, if plain evidence was needed, she could swear +to little, and she realized this and felt inclined (in +a purely feminine way, of course) to swear at much. +</p> + +<p> +And in the meanwhile Captain Kettle had disappeared +into the blackness of the night, and might, +for all she knew, have thrown up the whole affair +in disgust and returned to his farmhouse +headquarters and bed. +</p> + +<p> +Then, like a trick in a theatre, clouds slid away +from the moon, and a green-grey submarine and +her people were shown dished up brilliantly on a +glittering metallic sea. But as the scene was lit, a +man crawled out from the broken water on her +submerged after-deck, whipped a revolver from +some pocket in his sodden clothes, and sent three +shots in brisk succession. Two men on the conning-tower +fell over into the sea. The third staggered, +and in his turn produced a weapon. But his fire +was returned in style, and his knees collapsed under +him. +</p> + +<p> +The man on the submerged deck limped to the +base of the conning-tower, climbed it, and emptied +the remaining two shots from his revolver down the +open hatch. Enough light came up this hatch to +illumine Captain Kettle's face, and Dr. Brown +shivered when for the first time she saw it in fighting +trim. At the same time, she was thrilled with the +exultation the female always feels for the fighting +male, and, inconsistently enough, felt a sudden +distaste for that plump and matronly person, Lady +Kettle. If only that unnecessary woman were out +of the way, she, Mary Brown—"Pish!" said +Dr. Brown, and frowned angrily. +</p> + +<p> +Shots came from below, and the invader's own +pistol was empty. He stripped two from the fallen +Germans, and blazed away with these. He was +deliciously resourceful. Then he clapped down the +lid of the hatch, sticking an iron bar in it so that it +should not shut completely, and then with a length +of wire rope lashed it firmly in place. With this +much to the good, he proceeded in leisurely fashion +to wring the surplus water from his clothes and to +knead his collar into reputable shape. +</p> + +<p> +The submarine was tethered by nothing stouter +than an armoured rubber hose to something unseen +in the black waters off her starboard quarter. She +had no anchor down, nor so much as a line to the +oil source, whatever it was. She was kept in position +by her engines only, and was ready for an instant +start at the smallest scare. The oil, by the way, +was a heavy, tar-like stuff, and by no means the +petrol which Dr. Mary Brown had diagnosed; and +how it was stored at the bottom of the sea Captain +Kettle did not know, and, for the moment, did not care. +</p> + +<p> +His main business, for the time being, was to +capture that German submarine intact. He felt +at the moment he would like to have on his +tombstone: "Inventor of the Wharfedale Particular +Methodists. Also first to capture a German +submarine." +</p> + +<p> +Now, the Germans below-decks on their part +by no means went to sleep. Dive they could not, +by reason of an unshut hatch, but motor away for +the open sea they could and did. The armoured +hose pulled thin and burst with the first of the +strain, and Captain Kettle, to his disgust and +annoyance, was sprayed from head to foot with stinking +fuel oil. But he saw then how the oil was stored +beneath the waters of that Welsh bay. +</p> + +<p> +Thereafter, he was swirled rapidly away towards +the open sea. He tried at first to control things +somewhat with the conning-tower steering-wheel, +and did, indeed, contrive to make the submarine +take an alarming sheer towards the rocks. But +they straightened her out smartly enough with the +propellers, and then took matters out of his hands +by disconnecting the upper deck wheel and steering +her themselves from below. So the sailor blinded +them by taking the coat of one of the fallen Germans +and wrapping it round the head of the periscope +and stopping it there with a piece of spunyarn, and +then whilst casting around him for further resources +of annoyance, came across a cigar-case and a box +of lights on the floor of the conning-tower. +</p> + +<p> +"Belonged to that first officer I shot," he mused. +"Well, I hope he knew more about choosing tobacco +than he did about looking after his ship. By James, +I've got her like a sprit-sail-yarded shark. She +can do nothing but bustle along on the top of the +water like a blinded fool. Only trouble is, she'll +blunder into somebody's sight if only she goes on +long enough in this flurry, and I shall have to take +help, as likely as not from some Navy man, instead +of doing the job myself. By James, I should hate +that. I must think a way out of this, and in the +meanwhile I'll give them wet feet to keep them +busy." +</p> + +<p> +There was a roll of canvas, for sea-going bulwarks, +lashed down at one corner of the conning-tower's +top, and from this Kettle contrived a very simple +and efficient water scoop, leading from the bitts +on the submerged foredeck, and delivering its +contents through the gap which the iron bar caused +in the fit of the conning-tower hatch. The interior +of the submarine received from it a foaming cataract +of sea-water. As a tribute to the scoop's efficiency +the speed of the submarine was promptly eased, +till her pace was too slow to force the water up from +the water level below. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle shook his head doubtfully. "By +James," he commented, "these beastly Dutchmen +are getting on. They know enough now to get in +out of the wet. They aren't the easy proposition +they used to be. If I'd time I could write some +poetry on that." He chewed hard on his cigar, +and stared out thoughtfully through the night. +</p> + +<p> +In the meanwhile Dr. Mary Brown's short supply +of patience had completely evaporated. Moreover, +her feet and her back were both unpleasantly cold. +So she made up her mind to ignore Captain Kettle's +explicit instructions, and got up with a haughty +air, and with elevated nose marched resolutely +down to the cove behind the rocks where her +motorboat bobbed to its moorings. Captain Kettle and +her—<i>her</i>—submarine had disappeared seaward into +space without explanation, and she was going to +see into the reason why without further delay. She +might have a sneaking admiration for Captain +Kettle—she might—well, that did not matter. +The thing for the moment was to prove to this small +man with the red torpedo beard that she was all +of a woman, and not to be trifled with or neglected. +And for the time being it may be freely owned +that she had forgotten all about the suffragette +flag, and was sailing under the banner of her own +injured dignity. Whip up her submarine—here—from +under her very nose, and walk off with it? +She'd let him see. +</p> + +<p> +She cranked up her engine, and for a wonder it +started readily, and then tucking herself down to +the wheel and advancing spark and throttle to the +full, she swished hardily out into the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +By luck the little zephyr of wind had dropped, +and the sea was glassily smooth. The boat was +fast, and Dr. Brown felt the exhilaration of her +speed. What was going to be done when she reached +the Germans she did not know, but she was firmly +determined Captain Kettle should not do it without +her. Of her life up to then she felt she had made +a mess, but she saw visions of a brilliant future. +Those visions embraced Captain Sir Owen Kettle. +His position in the limelight should be little inferior +to her own. But he would have to alter some of +his ways. He must be taught that lady doctors +were the equals of any male practitioners, and the +superiors of most. And, above all things, he must +give up his detestable habit of praising patent +medicines. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle, in a German officer's dry cap +and overcoat, received her without enthusiasm. +"Miss," said he, "I wish to James you were safely +at home and in bed. This iron box is packed with +Germans, and they're swine. There ought to be +a law passed that no lady should go within a hundred +fathoms of any German. But now you are here I'll +not deny that your boat may have its use." +</p> + +<p> +"Call me Doctor, please, not Miss. What is +it you want? Our flag?" +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle restrained his remarks. "Here," +he said, "come alongside, please, and I'll make +you fast. You can step aboard here and tell the +Germans through this slit in the hatch that you want +a vote, and I'll get busy on something that matters. +Starboard your helm please, Miss." +</p> + +<p> +Doctor Brown stamped, but did as she was told. +Presently the motor-boat, with stopped engines, +rode to a tow-line alongside the conning-tower, +with the sea-water slicing up between them. Captain +Kettle stepped across to the smaller craft, and +busied himself inside her engine hatch. He +emerged presently with a pair of wires. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, Miss," said he in a whisper, "our Dutchman +can't see through his periscope, and he's steering +by compass. He's got a sort of pole-compass +in the roof of his conning-tower, and he's getting +his bearings now by looking up at it from +underneath. These wires come from your sparking coil, +and I'm going to take a turn with them round his +binnacle. They'll make the compass cant either +to the Eastward or the West—we shall have to find +out by experiment which wire has to go on to which +terminal, and I shall have to bring the bight towards +the compass very gradually. We must go softly. +These Dutchmen are not to be sneezed at nowadays; +they're getting to know quite a thing or two of the +white man's savvy; and if they guess we're tampering +with their compass, they'll as likely as not +do the bang opposite to what I want. So quietly +does it." +</p> + +<p> +"Ye—es," said the lady. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course, Miss, as you say you're a doctor, +you'll understand all about it, and will be quite +competent to manage the trembler end." +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Brown squeezed the little mariner's arm +ecstatically. She had not the vaguest notion of +what Captain Kettle was talking about, but she +felt that now at last they understood one another, +and said so in a few well-chosen words. The sailor +very nervously pulled his arm away, and climbed +back to the submarine as fast as his wooden leg +would let him, and thereafter found his orders +attended to, frequently with correctness, and always +with enthusiasm. +</p> + +<p> +The process of deflecting the German's compass +by an induced current was a delicate one, and +officially Captain Kettle was no electrician. But +a man who has earned his living as a master mariner +in the British mercantile marine through any +reasonable number of years is always competent to +turn his hand to anything, from abdominal surgery +to tea-planting. The real niceness of the operation +lay in the fact that the little sailor had to carry in +his head an invisible course over an invisible sea, +and jockey the German's compass so that she should +steer to it neither more nor less. +</p> + +<p> +As luck would have it, the moon had slid back +again behind coy clouds; the bold headlands of +Wales had dissolved out into starless dark; and +the ordinary man, stuck out there in that lonely +sea with only a compass known to be lying, would +have felt as hopeless as a blind puppy on a prairie. +Captain Kettle, however, held on to his work with +a brazen confidence. He probably had some +glimmer of his bearings not to be guessed at by the lay +mind, and if he had not, he showed no tremor; +and, anyway, Dr. Brown, who "found the compass +detestable even when it was working" (as she +confesses in her Memoirs) had the fullest confidence +in his skill and knowledge. She wanted to board +the submarine; she even demanded this as a right, +and the shy sailor, with the dread of companionable +fingers on his shoulder, was hard put to it to keep +her at a safe distance in the motor-boat. +</p> + +<p> +Just as the chill of dawn was gripping them, +they came in sight of the trawler. +</p> + +<p> +To be precise they nearly ran her down, but by +dint of some manipulation of wires that verged on +the miraculous, Captain Kettle gave a jolt to the +compass (and incidentally to the nerves of the +German quartermaster below) and the submarine +swerved like an eel and escaped the blow. +</p> + +<p> +Now in the ordinary course of events, that should +have been the beginning and end of the episode. +German submarines are notoriously unhealthy for +British fishing craft, and this one was as +unmistakably German as the trawler (by her marks) +was indisputably a Grimsbyman. The steam trawler +<i>Ulfrida Crump</i> she was by name, and the fishy +smell of her caused Captain Kettle emphatically +to spit. Her habits, however, were peculiar. She +sidled down alongside and began to talk—in German. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle had, as his record shows, the gift +of tongues, but it had always been a matter of pride +with him never to speak German. His habit was +to force Germans with whom he came in contact +to speak one of the civilized languages—English +for choice. But in this process of strenuous tuition +he had picked up a good understanding knowledge +of the tongue, and it was of use to him now. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss," he whispered huskily down to Dr. Brown, +"lie down in the bottom of that motor-boat, please, +and don't shift till I tell you. They think by my +cap and coat I'm a blessed Dutchman. There's +going to be some fancy shooting in about ten ticks. +The <i>Ulfrida Crump's</i> got into bad hands." +</p> + +<p> +"I've—I've got a revolver of my own here." +</p> + +<p> +"Then for the Lord's sake drop it over into the +ditch. I'd be as nervous as a canary with a new +bath if you started any fancy shooting down there." +</p> + +<p> +The stream of voluble German from the steam +trawler's pilot house changed in tone from civility +to menace. +</p> + +<p> +"If you don't stop that language, you cross-eyed +son of a Dutch thief," shouted the little +sailor grimly, "I'll come across to that packet and +kick your backbone through your hat." +</p> + +<p> +The German gaped. Then, "<i>Gott strafe</i>——" +he began, and lugged at something in his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +"You must be a lot quicker on the draw than +that, my lad," said Kettle as he shot him, "to have +a chance of growing up in this wicked world. The +rest of you aboard there, listen. The next man +who tries to pull a gun, or to get on to that topside +deck, drops too. And by James, let me tell you, +you Dutchmen are a jolly sight easier to shoot than +Upper Wharfedale rabbits, though less interesting +when dead." +</p> + +<p> +A man, with both hands thrust high above his +head, stammered a reply: "But, Most Gracious, +you do not understand. We are your relief ship. +Our own was sunk. We took this, and transferred +our supplies. And here we are as good Germans as +yourself, though sailing in this condemned trawler." +</p> + +<p> +"What did you do with the English crew? Can +they tell tales?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, that is all right, Gracious Herr. We set +them swimming. You would have laughed to see +them in their high boots. We laughed, I tell you. +They did not swim for long. All is safe. This is +war, and it does not do to leave these things to +chance." +</p> + +<p> +"I see. She carried about ten of a crew. I +suppose?" +</p> + +<p> +"Thirteen, Gracious Herr." +</p> + +<p> +"It's an unlucky number. Unlucky for them, +poor devils, and just as unlucky for you." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Herr Gott!</i> What——" +</p> + +<p> +"Half a minute. How many of the blighters +alongside you understand English?" +</p> + +<p> +"English? What, you are English? Has our +U-boat been captured? Say, are you English?" +</p> + +<p> +"As a matter of birth, I am Welsh, though it +is an item that is often overlooked by those who +know me. But for working purposes you can call +me English, and not be far out. There, I told you +not to try and shoot, and now you've got it in the +department where you stow the sausage, a very +dangerous place according to the doctors." +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle slipped from his perch, and stood +on the plating below, knee-deep in swirling +sea-water. A hailstorm of bullets whistled across the +top of the conning-tower, and continued to whistle. +The Germans had good aim, but little moderation. +At intervals Captain Kettle peeped from the +shelter of the conning-tower, and took rapid shots. +He seldom missed. He had always been deadly +with a revolver, and of late years on the Wharfedale +farm, practice with a shot gun at rabbits which +dodged in and out of the limestone rocks of Craven, +had if anything smartened his eye. +</p> + +<p> +A smothered voice came from the motor-boat +below. "Are you killed, Captain?" +</p> + +<p> +"As right as the mail, thank you, Miss. I've +only one trouble." +</p> + +<p> +"What is it? C—can I do anything?" +</p> + +<p> +"If you could provide me with a rhyme to +'Submarine' I'd be happier. I've just been making +up the dinkiest little verse you ever listened to, +and it's stuck in the last line." +</p> + +<p> +At this point a muffled risp-rasping noise obtruded +itself on Captain Kettle's attention, and he looked +up and noted that some one had pushed a hacksaw +through the gap in the conning-tower hatch +and was vigorously cutting at the wire rope that +held it down. The sailor seized the end of the tool +and pulled. The owner at the other end pulled +too, and he was, if not the stronger, at least as +strong a man. But Kettle with a flick broke the +brittle blade, and then with a sharp wrench snapped +the cast-iron spreader, and—"Uneasy lot these +Dutchmen are," he commented. "If I don't look +out they'll be giving trouble yet, and I suppose there +must be thirty of them still stinking away together +inside this tin box. I did design taking them ashore +for the Government to pamper, but I'm sure the +country would be better if I made good Germans +of them here in the wet. As for those blighters on +the <i>Ulfrida Crump</i>, they've followed their beastly +nature and laughed in the wrong place once too +often, and they're going to hell fire as soon as it +can be managed. Yes, Miss?" +</p> + +<p> +"If you're really in earnest, would 'Britain's +Queen' do for your rhyme?" +</p> + +<p> +"Perfectly, Miss, and thank you greatly. We've +a King in charge at the moment, but I can work +in his lady wife all right. Let me think now.... +'Huns obscene' ... Ah, got that swine with the +blue nightcap fairly in the liver wing. That makes +five I've bagged on the <i>Ulfrida Crump</i>, Miss. Not +bad, for an early morning's shoot. There, I thought +so. The blighters are sheering off out of pistol +range." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, what are they going to do now?" +</p> + +<p> +"Try and worry out how to communicate with +their fellow-sausages in the tin coffin here, Miss, +and then try to join forces and eliminate us. I +tell you that bit of verse is coming into shape +grandly, Miss." +</p> + +<p> +"Please don't frivol, and for goodness' sake call +me Doctor. Can't you see that everything's deadly +serious? I do believe you're actually enjoying +yourself." +</p> + +<p> +The little sailor heaved an immense sigh. "Miss, +it's abominable, but I've been in places I've liked. +worse. You see, between you and me, up on the +farm in Wharfedale there are moments (for a man +that's spent a busy life) when it is a bit quiet; +though, of course, there is always the chapel on +Sunday to look forward to, and my sermon to get +up. Lady Kettle," he added rather bitterly, "has +had the advantage of occupying our pulpit these +last two Sundays, and, if she's increased the +congregation of the Wharfedale Particular Methodists, +I'll eat my wooden leg. She's a clever woman, a +vastly clever woman, Miss, but she's not got the +knack of preaching to suit the stomachs of our +chapel members, and that's a fact. I wish you +could see our chapel, Miss, on a nice, rainy Sunday +in autumn——" +</p> + +<p> +"Look, Captain, look! The Germans are trying +to press up that lid—thing." +</p> + +<p> +"Then we'll give them some asphyxiating gases," +said the little mariner genially, and thrust a revolver +muzzle in through the crack in the hatch and fired +three rapid shots. "There, those will ricochet +grandly inside that tin box, and they can share +the proceeds amongst them. Did it ever occur to +you, Miss, that it's a terribly sad thing to be born +a German? Since I've given up handling them at +sea, and taken to the Ministry, I've often sent up +a prayer that no more of them should undergo the +unpleasantness of being born. Fancy a world +clean of Germans! There's a chance for poetry! +My Great James!" +</p> + +<p> +"Whatever is it, Captain?" +</p> + +<p> +"Just something I thought of, Miss, though it +is a hundred-to-one chance." +</p> + +<p> +The little sailor climbed nimbly back to the top +of the conning-tower, and made rapid inspection. +At one corner was a small iron box, locked. With +a neat blow of his sound foot he kicked open the +lid. Inside were six switches—switches to the +six torpedo tubes—each with its appropriate brass +label. +</p> + +<p> +"It's a hundred pounds to a case of gin they +cut the connections when they left the top side +here, and, anyway, I'm no torpedo-layer. Let +me see now ... that <i>Ulfrida Crump</i> is doing +about eight point five ... I'll give her two degrees." +</p> + +<p> +With which decision he made cautious readjustments +of his compass-deflecting wire, and set about +training the submarine to the angle he sought. +Then he threw over the switch to the bow tube. +</p> + +<p> +The incredible happened. The Germans—the +methodical, plodding, scientific Germans—had left +the connections of the deck control intact. A +20-inch torpedo jumped out of the bow tube with a +splutter, and sped away, leaving a vivid wake of +soda-water. +</p> + +<p> +The Germans on the <i>Ulfrida Crump</i> saw her, +and howled. They tried to change course and stop +engines, but had no time to do either effectively. +The steel fish hit them on the quarter with a +shattering explosion. It carried T.N.T. enough to have +blown up a battleship, and so made small bones of +a trumpery steam trawler. And apparently the +trawler carried a hefty wad of munitions for her +friend the submarine. These went off piecemeal +as the bits of her sank. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle lit another of the German captain's +cigars, and felt that he was once more in the +swim of things. +</p> + +<p> +"All right, Miss," he called down to the motorboat, +"you may sit up and look round now. There's +nothing objectionable afloat. I'm sorry for the +fish, that's all. Men that laugh like those men did +aren't wholesome. Phew! haven't these fancy +new explosives a bad smell to them? Well, there's +one comfort, our fine tin yacht here is taking us +quickly out into sweet air again. Haven't they +whooped up the speed since we buzzed off that cracker?" +</p> + +<p> +"What's their idea? Where do they think +they are going?" +</p> + +<p> +"If this compass was acting as Nature and Lord +Kelvin intended, she'd be heading for the Wolf +Rock, and then round the corner and down Channel +for happy Dutchland. Oh, they've picked up +navigation all right, these Dutchmen, and no error +about that. You don't catch these new swine making +an error of thirty minutes in their observations +a matter of habit like the old crowd did. +But—ahem!—they sleep unconscious of the wire, that +goes about their tower higher." +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle coughed and blushed, and looked +rather coyly for Dr. Mary Brown's comment. +That young woman, however, had not the vaguest +idea of what he was talking about—be it remembered +she "always found compasses detestable." She +was horribly shocked at what had occurred. "And +you've killed them all!" she lamented. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sorry there were so few, Miss. If you +feel any qualms, try and remember those fishermen +who got laughed at because they couldn't swim +in top-boots. A lot of those would be married men +with wives to support at home, and likely enough +a parcel of youngsters. You know what fishermen +are in that way, Miss. It doesn't do to let +Dutchmen laugh at Britishers. It gives them ideas +above their station." +</p> + +<p> +"But you're not going to kill the poor fellows +in the submarine? You'll take them prisoners?" +</p> + +<p> +The sailor pulled doubtfully at his red torpedo +beard. "A dozen years back I'd have said yes, +Miss. But these modern Dutchmen have learnt +to shoot, and don't mind doing it. Besides, we +haven't such a thing as a pair of irons about your +ship." +</p> + +<p> +"You'll have to take their parole." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid that's a French word, Miss, that +they don't understand, and it would be a bit too +much of a strain to teach them at this time of +day." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Dr. Brown doggedly, "you will +own, Captain, that I thought out the whole of this +scheme. What I want, and what you must help +me to do, is to see that submarine sail into port +under the suffragette flag, and her crew taken ashore +under a suffragette guard. This means a great deal +to me, Captain." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Miss," said Kettle politely, "I see you're +set on it." +</p> + +<p> +"And don't you agree with me that what I've +mapped out is the proper course? Say honestly, now." +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle, in his humble way, set Great +Britain first, but he was not a man to put such a +ridiculous idea into bald words. Instead, he got +rather redder than nature had already made him, +and said a little haltingly that they "must see," +and, as an afterthought, added that he was sure +they would both of them do their little best. And +Dr. Brown pitied his hesitating speech, but felt +sure he meant what he said. The worst of these +merchant service captains was that they had such a +pitiful lack of expression, thought Dr. Mary Brown. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +The submarine was drawing a foot more water +than Kettle had reckoned on, and so grounded +before he expected. She was doing her fourteen +knots at the time, and the jolt was severe. Captain +Kettle was within an ace of being shot overboard, +and, as it was, dinged himself rather shrewdly on +the conning-tower rail. The motor-boat stubbed +violently on her painter, and Dr. Brown received +a most indecorous tumble, which the sailor was too +polite to notice till she had readjusted herself angrily +on to her feet. The vessels lay on a narrow beach +of sand at the foot of cliffs. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, Miss," said Kettle, throwing away the +sodden stump of his last cigar, "here's the place +where you can be really useful. Can you fix up +an electric fuse for a bomb?" +</p> + +<p> +"What for?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you see, Miss, I've found quite a store of +nice little handy bombs in one of this conning-tower's +lockers—the sort they blow up surrendered +steamers with. It's a regular Swiss Family +Robinson's ship this, for handy stores." +</p> + +<p> +"But it was arranged we were to set the crew +free, on parole. I ordered you to do that not ten +minutes ago. You can't have forgotten." +</p> + +<p> +"Quite so, Miss. But I'm just wanting to get +ready a little stand-by in case of accidents. It's +just possible these Dutchmen may give their parole +easily enough, and then forget all about it when +they see there are only two of us." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, if you doubt them beforehand——" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing unpleasant meant, Miss, believe me. +But I am a family man, and expected home again, +and one can't afford to take unnecessary risks. +The question is, can you fix up an electric exploder +on to one of these bombs? It's out of my line, but +I suppose with your college learning it will come as +easy to you as boiling a saucepan of tea." +</p> + +<p> +"I know nothing whatever about the subject," +said Dr. Mary Brown shortly. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Miss," said the sailor with a sigh, "I +suppose I must worry it out myself. I only hope +I don't blow off any fingers in the process. These +detonators are nasty things for an ordinary man to +play about with." +</p> + +<p> +Thereafter for the next hour he was busied over +mysterious devices to this end, only breaking off +once to shed his German cap and overcoat, and +again to attend to some other enthusiast who had +found another hack-saw, and was once more attempting +to cut through the wire that secured the +conning-tower hatch. +</p> + +<p> +When his labours were complete, Captain Kettle +got over the submarine's side and found the +outboard ends of the broadside torpedo tubes. The +boat had grounded on a falling tide, and he was able +to work, standing on the sand, with the water +just above his middle. He took it for granted +that a live torpedo was ready inside each port, +and slung bombs so that an explosion would set +these off. He was a man who always liked full +effects for his firework displays. Then he +completed his wiring, took tests, and went ashore with +the balance of the wires to where the motor-boat +lay high and dry beside a tidy lump of rock on the +beach. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, Miss," said he, "as soon as you have +got half a mile away I will get things moving." +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Mary Brown put her chin in the air. "I +shall stay here," she announced, "and take the +surrender myself." +</p> + +<p> +There was a silence. She turned slowly, and +saw beside her a truculent-looking man, who was +very different from the little sailor who had blushed +so readily and done her bidding with such politeness. +</p> + +<p> +"Get out of this, one-time," he ordered. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Brown did as she was told. +</p> + +<p> +The sailor waded back to the submarine, climbed +on board, climbed to the conning-tower top, and +inquired for the officer in command. +</p> + +<p> +"I am Captain Kettle. Who are you?" +</p> + +<p> +A name and rank were given. +</p> + +<p> +"I want your unconditional surrender." +</p> + +<p> +"I give it. I have no alternative." +</p> + +<p> +"You are to come up one by one, unarmed, go +ashore, and attempt no retaliation. Do you +promise that?" +</p> + +<p> +"Again I have no alternative. I promise." +</p> + +<p> +"In the name of yourself and crew?" +</p> + +<p> +"In the name of all of us. I swear it on my +honour." +</p> + +<p> +"Good. Keep that promise in memory. I am +casting off the down-haul on this hatch. In two +minutes' time you may come out, unarmed, +remember, one by one, and go off as instructed. +Got all that?" +</p> + +<p> +"Perfectly." +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle waded ashore, walked to the +motor-boat, uncoupled one of the terminals, switched +on the trembler, and stood by with the loose +terminal in his hand. "Come along," he hailed. +"Come along, the first man." +</p> + +<p> +A bearded officer shot up through the hatch, +glared around him, and called below. Then he +hailed the landscape generally. "Who do I +surrender to?" +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle bowed politely. +</p> + +<p> +"You! You are not even Navy? You are alone?" +</p> + +<p> +"Quite." +</p> + +<p> +"Then I take back what I said." +</p> + +<p> +"I felt sure you would," said Captain Kettle. +"But I'll blow you and your whole outfit to the +place you came from if you don't do exactly as I +ordered." +</p> + +<p> +"Pig-face!" yelled the German, and bawled +down the hatch. A gush of armed men answered +him, and then Captain Kettle connected the loose +terminal. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * +</p> + +<p> +When the sailor came to his senses Dr. Mary +Brown had his head on her arm, and was looking +down at him with more tenderness than he +considered wholesome for a married man. +</p> + +<p> +"I thought the end of the world had come," +she told him. "I never dreamt such an explosion +could be possible. There is no vestige of anything +left. And the cliff has fallen down on the top of +where it was." +</p> + +<p> +"I told you, Miss," said Kettle rather faintly, +"I was a poor hand at arranging these sort of +things." +</p> + +<p> +"You are wounded, too. Let me examine you." +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle pulled himself together, and +stood up. "Oh, that's all right, thank you, Miss. +I've only got a bit of a dint in the forearm." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I'll cut away your coat, and we'll see how +bad it is." +</p> + +<p> +The sailor stepped back, and took off the garment +himself, and then felt in a pocket and produced +a small old-fashioned pewter flask. "I'm +glad that's not hurt, anyway, Miss. It is full of +Horner's Perfect Cure, the best thing in the world +for cuts and stomachic troubles." +</p> + +<p> +"But, my dear Captain, you must not use a +patent medicine at a time like this. You are really +wounded, and, though you keep on forgetting it, +I am really a doctor. I will dress it for you." +</p> + +<p> +"I am sure you are what you say," said Captain +Kettle soothingly. "But you see, Miss, this wound +is rather a personal matter, and I wish it properly +attended to. I am going to dress it with Horner, +and I am going to drink half the rest of the flask. +Then all will be well. I will give you what is left, +and if you use it with judgment, believe me, you +will lay the foundation of a really valuable medical +practice. With Horner's Perfect Cure, Miss, you +can tackle everything that comes into the biggest +hospital in London or South Shields. It's the last +word in medicine, and, mark you, I know. I've +tried everything that's advertised. +</p> + +<p> +"I believe, by the way, Miss, I never told you +where that submarine was getting her fuel oil from. +They had it stored in a couple of old marine boilers +from some wreck which were lying just under the +surface of the bay. I could see them quite clearly." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> + +<h2> +VI +<br><br> +REJOINING AT ONCE +</h2> + +<p> +We will call him Plough—Lieutenant John +B. Plough, R.N.—because that name is +not in the Navy List, and his own is. He +had been on special leave at Marienbad "on urgent +private affairs," which in less technical English +might be explained as an expedition to that German +health resort with a view of inspecting a girl he +had danced with twice at home, and trying to +persuade her that her mission in life was to become +Mrs. Plough. And from this idyllic occupation +he had been torn by a bald telegram which +commanded him to "Rejoin at Once." +</p> + +<p> +He wondered vaguely what was up. He had +not seen an English paper for a week, and could +not read German, and had heard no word about +the threatened war. But he was too good an +officer to question such an order. He packed his +traps, saw the girl, explained the case to her in ten +words, kissed her rapturously, much to her surprise, +and just caught the 5.40, without having time +to register his luggage. Thereafter began his +troubles. +</p> + +<p> +The train lagged minutes, and half-hours, and +hours behind scheduled time, and finally gave up +its attempt altogether. An order was passed for +"All turn out." The line was commandeered for +troops. Civil traffic must go round by so-and-so +and so-and-so, which were apparently German +junctions further east, but nobody seemed to have +heard of them before. A train for that route +would leave in six hours' time. +</p> + +<p> +It was fifteen hours before that train got started, +and even when it was under way a mule tram +could have beaten it for speed. John B. Plough, +being a Naval man, arrived in the train +clean-shaven, well-fed, and rested. The balance of +the passengers were be-draggled, and cross, and +tired. Plough gave up his window seat in a +first-class carriage to a middle-aged Englishwoman with +a capable face, and went and stood in the corridor. +</p> + +<p> +The train travelled on single lines through a +country unknown to English tourists, and stopped +at innumerable stations at which the platforms +were all full of excited people. But progress +northwards to the coast was sure if it was slow. +At intervals officials, not belonging to the railway, +came into the carriages and stared rudely at the +passengers. They passed insolent eyes over all +non-Germans—especially the women—and made +notes in pocket-books which seemed to amuse them. +Certain of the fathers and husbands and brothers +got annoyed, and said things, though this did not +in the least abate the nuisance. J.B. Plough said +nothing. He wanted to get home. +</p> + +<p> +Finally the train drew in to the outskirts of +a Port—what Port must be left vague here, for +reasons which will appear—and official vigilance +increased. A spectacled man in uniform—everybody +seemed to be in uniform here—came into +the carriage with six aggressively armed soldiers +at his heels. +</p> + +<p> +"Passports?" +</p> + +<p> +They none of them had one. An American, +with dry humour, explained that Cooks had told +him passports were only needed now in the +uncivilized parts of Europe. +</p> + +<p> +"Arrest all these pig-dogs," said the official, +and went on to the next carriage. And arrested +they were—children, women, and men. +</p> + +<p> +Thereafter came a most galling part of the exodus. +The streets of the Sea Port were crammed with +people, troops for the most part, and all jeered +and hooted as the prisoners were marched through +them. The officer of their escort seemed to possess +little of the boasted German order and method. +He dragged them from office to office, and from +prison to prison, arguing and expostulating with +the keepers of each, and every time being sent on +somewhere else. The prisoners lagged and +expostulated, but the bayonets of the escorts pressed +them into movement, and the weak ones limped +along as best they could. Plough had a child on +his back, and the middle-aged Englishwoman he +had talked to in the train, on his arm, by the time +they reached a destination that seemed a final one. +</p> + +<p> +This looked a private house, was in the Wilhelm +Strasse, and turned out to be their captor's personal +residence. He proceeded to arrange the forty +prisoners in front of him and pompously to examine them. +</p> + +<p> +The majority claimed to be, and probably were, +Americans, and produced letters and other +documents to prove it. Also being tired and angry, +they told him exactly what the little old United +States would do when their President got busy, +and woke up to the fact of his insignificant existence. +</p> + +<p> +This being patently true, probably frightened +Jack-in-Office, but like Pharaoh of old it also +hardened his heart, and he refused to let them go. +So they were herded apart for the time being in +another room, with a couple of fixed bayonets to +keep them soothed. The French were similarly +filtered out, insulted, and set apart. There remained +Plough, and the middle-aged woman of the train +whose name he did not know. +</p> + +<p> +"Names?" They gave them. +</p> + +<p> +"English?" Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +"What relation to one another?" +</p> + +<p> +"None," said Plough. +</p> + +<p> +"Liar," said Jack. "You are son and mother. +I have seen you arm in arm." +</p> + +<p> +"Evidence seems hardly conclusive," suggested +the Naval man, who was used to sifting testimony. +</p> + +<p> +The lady coloured with annoyance at being +thought old enough to have such a strapping son. +</p> + +<p> +"Zo! You show confusion, because I haf +der truth discovered. You shall be shut up +together, and if I had my way, on to-morrow you +should be shot, you treacherous pig-dogs of English +that dare to make war on Germany. Away with +dem." +</p> + +<p> +Shut up together they were, in a small bare +room at the top of the house, but the supply of +bayonet-bearers having run out of stock, a locked +door was considered enough for them. +</p> + +<p> +Plough went to the window. "Phew! four +stories from the ground, and not so much as a +fall-pipe to climb down by. And we're at war +with Germany, by gad, and I'm here." +</p> + +<p> +"And you're in the Navy?" said madam. +</p> + +<p> +"How did you find that out?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, for one thing you carry your trade mark +about with you plainly, and for another you were +walking about Marienbad with a young lady who +is a customer of mine, and I asked who you were +and got told." +</p> + +<p> +"Sorry I didn't see you at Marienbad." +</p> + +<p> +"Not at all. We are in different sets, and likely +to remain so. But we've got an interest in common. +We both want to get out of here. You, I presume, +wish to rejoin your ship. I have a big millinery +business in Bradford that will go to pieces if I'm +not there to look after it; and I've two daughters, +too, who will want me, though," she added as a +tart afterthought, "they aren't anywhere near +so old as you." +</p> + +<p> +"Eh?" said Plough, who didn't quite follow +this last on the spur of the moment. "Oh, I see. +Yes, it was pretty beastly rude of that bumptious +ass downstairs. Now, if he'd only guessed us as +brother and sister, what?" +</p> + +<p> +"That would have been quite as impossible as +the other," said madam uncompromisingly. "Let's +get to the point. You, I suppose, would risk a +good deal to get home?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'd risk my neck," said the sailor simply. +"But I don't see any way out of this room." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I do. The question is, if I help you out +of here will you take me along with you as far as +you go?" +</p> + +<p> +"I shouldn't care to risk it. You see, pardon +my putting it bluntly, but you're a woman." +</p> + +<p> +"I've reason to suspect it. But when it isn't +a case of walking, which I frankly admit I can't +do in these absurd shoes, I'm tougher than most +men. Come now, Mr. Plough, I know the way out +and you don't. Will you take me?" +</p> + +<p> +Lieutenant John B. Plough hesitated for a +moment, frankly looking madam over. Then, +"it's a deal," said he, "and if anything happens to +you—well, it'll have happened to me first. Now, +where's the way out?" +</p> + +<p> +"Through that door." +</p> + +<p> +"Door. Why, my good lady, that's wall." +</p> + +<p> +"Also door. It's papered like the rest of the +wall, but I noticed the keyhole, and whilst you +were staring out of window I opened it. It leads +to the next house." +</p> + +<p> +"And after we get there, what then?" +</p> + +<p> +"I leave that to you, partner," said madam, +giving him the State curtsy she taught to customers +who bought Presentation Gowns. +</p> + +<p> +John B. Plough's grin wrinkled up his face. +"Madam," said he, "you're a daisy. The Lord, +He only knows what amount of Hoch-der-Kaisers +there are in the next house, and if we're caught +we're liable to be tried for anything between simony +and arson; but if you're game to come with me, +I'm game to take you. And, blow me, if you'll +teach me stitching I'll teach you sailoring." +</p> + +<p> +"Go on into that house," said madam, "and +don't talk twaddle. I want to get home to my +work." +</p> + +<p> +The passage of the next house proved to be the +easiest thing imaginable. They went inside, found +the stair, and crept down it like cats to the next +landing. They were undisturbed. They crept down +the next flight, and the next, and—the next, and +stood in a barbarously furnished hall, full of light +from raw electrics. There was not a sound or a +whisper in the whole house. +</p> + +<p> +"All out bean-feasting," said Plough, "and +arranging which estates they'll have when they +have taken England. Come along, partner." +</p> + +<p> +"Madam, please," said the lady, and pulled the +latch of the front door. +</p> + +<p> +"Half a minute. Do you know this city?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't even know the name of it." +</p> + +<p> +"H'm, I'm ahead of you there. It's——. Now +let me worry out where we are and how the +river-front lies. Don't speak for at least fifteen +seconds.... Right, I've got it. We must bear +east with a bit of north in it. Salt water's my +pigeon, and as we've got to cross it to get home, +we may as well make for it at once. Now let me +open that door, part—madam, and we'll get +under way." +</p> + +<p> +Wilhelm Strasse, when they stepped out into it, +closing the house door behind them, was a mere +crowd of people. All were talking, and most looked +important. A German occupies far more standing-room +for an ordinary conversation than is sufficient +for the Briton, by reason of his language being +obscure and the necessity of eking it out by dumb +show, and when his hand semaphoring is cramped +by a crowd, it is enough to irritate him at once. +</p> + +<p> +"Madam," said John B. Plough with an +explanatory wave that was really a very passable +imitation of the genuine article, "you've got to +carry in your head the bed-rock fact that these +people are all as mad as hay, and if they drop to +the fact that you come from Bradford, England, +they're just as likely as not to lynch you. Do +you speak German?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not a word." +</p> + +<p> +"Quite right. It's a filthy language. But you +mustn't let any one hear a word of even your +worst English. Happy thought—we're both deaf +and dumb." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't even know the deaf and dumb alphabet." +</p> + +<p> +"Nor do I. But we're the educated kind with +a sort of Admiralty code of our own. Madam, I'm +not joking; you must look serious and keep it up." +</p> + +<p> +The next street was quieter; and the next street +after which they branched into was quieter still. +</p> + +<p> +"I do feel lonely out of that crowd," muttered +Plough. "This is just the place for some busy +ass to spot us for what we are. Keep it up, madam. +Here are two heroes coming across the road to ask +why and wherefore." +</p> + +<p> +Two men came and planted themselves firmly +across the pavement, and put questions in rapid +German. Plough replied in his best imitation deaf +and dumb. One of the Germans rocked with +laughter. The other said spitefully: "Zo! +English spies. We will take you to the polis." +</p> + +<p> +"I doubt it," said John B. Plough, and laid +stringent hands on the outside ear of each, and +bumped their heads violently together. +</p> + +<p> +The two inquirers collapsed into a limp heap on +the pavement. Plough plucked the lady by the +arm, and ran with her round the next corner, and +the next corner after that. +</p> + +<p> +And then: "You really must try and talk +more realistic deaf and dumb, madam," said he, +"or you will get us into bad trouble presently." +</p> + +<p> +"That's right, lay the blame on me," said she +rather breathlessly. "How like a man!" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sorry your first wasn't a success," said +John B. Plough with a grin, "but there may be +better times coming. Cheer up, madam. Here's +the water front. Now we'll begin to move." +</p> + +<p> +They stood on the string-piece of a wharf, looking +upstream and down, through an opalescent +river-mist; and to them, up some weed-covered steps, +there suddenly arrived a man in uniform. He +stopped, stared at them, and then cried: "Zo, +und again, Eenglish." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, don't make a song about it," said Plough. +</p> + +<p> +"You admeet? Zo! Den you come along mit me." +</p> + +<p> +"Got an appointment elsewhere," said Plough, +and clipped the man under the jaw. He tripped +backwards over the string piece, and fell with a +splash into the river. +</p> + +<p> +"He'll drown," said madam, shivering. +</p> + +<p> +"He probably will if he can't swim," said Plough +philosophically. "He should have thought of that +before he started being impertinent to a +comparative stranger. These Germans always are so +unmannerly. But he's left a boat tied up at the +bottom of these stairs, and I guess we'd better use +it. Mind your skirts against the weed and the +mud, and for the Lord's sake don't skid." +</p> + +<p> +"You go first," said madam, "and help me down." +</p> + +<p> +The boat, once it was cast off from the stairs, +swung down stream, and in the charge of a strong +ebb, sped away towards the river's mouth. They +whirled past half a dozen destroyers, which blazed +with light, and were alive with men. +</p> + +<p> +"I thought we should have been stopped there," +said the sailor, "but there's evidently nothing +doing. And we're told in the text-books to look +up to the business methods of these Germans. Got +your wind back yet, madam?" +</p> + +<p> +"You look after the boat, and never mind me. +Why are you going stern first?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because I can see better front ways than +through the back of my head. The ebb's taking +us five knots, and that's quite fast enough for a +clumsy tub like this. We shall be coming across +shipping hung up to moorings soon, if they haven't +removed the buoys. I want to try my soft eloquence +on the packet that's nearest the sea." +</p> + +<p> +The fairway was full enough of life. Big steamers +were coming up for sanctuary against British +raiders; coasting craft whose business was ended, +were hunting for mud berths; and a tug in charge +of the last four-masted sailing ship that was to win +home for many disastrous months, hooted dismally +to show her importance. And moving amongst +these were the launches and picket boats of an +anxious Navy. The small rowing boat with its +two occupants was far too insignificant an object +for notice amongst hurrying interests such as these. +At last they drifted down to the line of the outer +moorings, and found there one steamer, where in +normal times there would have been twenty. +</p> + +<p> +"A hulking 2000-ton collier, with the coal still +in her," announced Plough. "Kind of ship they +build on Tyneside by the mile, and cut off in lengths +as ordered, and stick a bulkhead across the ends +for bow and stern. She's no accommodation +ladder, madam. Can you climb a Jacob's stair-case?" +</p> + +<p> +The lady bit her lips. "I'll have to. I must get +home." +</p> + +<p> +"Mind your eye, then," said Plough, and ran +his boat alongside. He made fast his painter to a +dangling davit fall, and helped madam up the +uneasy ladder. A fat man appeared from above +and handed her over the rail. Plough followed, +and addressed him. +</p> + +<p> +"You the master?" +</p> + +<p> +"Captain's ashore, if that's what you mean." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, yes, of course, he would be." +</p> + +<p> +"He was fetched by the police." +</p> + +<p> +"Like them, the busy brutes. I see you've steam. +Well, we'll get under way at once." +</p> + +<p> +"Look here, mister man, I'm mate of this packet, +and in charge, and I'm the one that gives the orders. +Who the hell are you?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am Lieutenant J.B. Plough, of the Navy, +and I've come here to take you home, because +you don't seem able to do it yourself. Call up the +chief engineer to let me know the instant he can +give me full steam, and then you can unshackle +from the buoy and we'll be off." +</p> + +<p> +The fat mate scratched his nose with a dirty +finger nail. "And you—as representing the +Navy—assume all responsibility?" +</p> + +<p> +"Any God's quantity of it. Now get a move +on, Mr. Mate, or we shall have the German Fleet +round here presently wanting us to sign a stack +more of official forms in triplicate." +</p> + +<p> +"The Lord preserve us from any more documents," +said the mate piously, and jumped for the +engine-room. +</p> + +<p> +Steam was ready for full speed—which was +nine knots—and the chief himself brought word +that in half an hour's time he "could whack her +up to nine-point-five." +</p> + +<p> +"Been in the Navy myself, sir," he added, "as +a tiffy, and glad enough to rejoin again if you can +get us home out of this. If I may suggest, sir, the +lady had better have my room. The old man's +cabin is hardly decent. He's papered it with +portraits of his lost loves till there isn't space left +for so much as a shaving-glass." +</p> + +<p> +"Make it so," said Plough. "And, Mr. Mate, +when I take the strain off her with the engines, +just unshackle from the buoy with as little noise +as you can manage. If you started playing a tune +with your windlass, we'd have some one coming +to inquire why. They're a desperate lot of +busybodies up there at the Port." +</p> + +<p> +The unwieldy collier was, of course, lying head +up stream. Lieut. Plough jockeyed her round +between the narrow limits of the fairway, and then +rammed down the handles of his engine-room +telegraph to full speed ahead, and set a course for +home. Then he began to equip ship and crew for +war. +</p> + +<p> +He tackled the crew first. Could any of them +speak German fluently? Two of them did—for +the very sound reason that they were Germans. +They were a couple of deckhands who had run to +sea to escape the conscription, and they were both +very frightened men at the idea of being caught by +their compatriots. +</p> + +<p> +Lieutenant Plough examined them with a thoughtful +eye. "There is not much to choose between +you as regards physiogs. You both look German +enough to play in a band. Now let's see how you +can give a word of command. Suppose you're a +full-fledged skipper. Say, 'Lower away those +boats.' Say it in German, and say it as if you +meant it. You, first." +</p> + +<p> +The man let off a sudden bawl. +</p> + +<p> +"Now you." +</p> + +<p> +Number two man yapped the order in true +officer's style. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, you're the better of the two. Now, +which of you is about the build of your late skipper?" +</p> + +<p> +The second man grinned, and believed he was. +</p> + +<p> +"Right. Go you to the master's room and rootle +out a full kit of uniform—coat and cap, and the +more brass binding it has on it the better. Then +come back to this bridge. I may want you to +appear as captain here, and the more trigged out +you are in uniform, the more you'll appeal to the +German official mind. Mr. Mate?" +</p> + +<p> +The mate waddled to the upper bridge. +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" +</p> + +<p> +"Say 'sir' when you speak to me. Got that?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—sir." +</p> + +<p> +"Good. Then I want two big heavy weights, up +to a ton, or a ton and a half, on the foredeck there." +</p> + +<p> +"There's a young locomotive boiler down under +number two hatch on the top of the coals, if that +will do—sir." +</p> + +<p> +"Derrick carry it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not without preventer stays—sir." +</p> + +<p> +"Then rig them, and get off your hatch, and heave +it up on deck at once. What about number two +weight?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can't think of another—sir." +</p> + +<p> +"I can. There's that forrard winch. Unbolt +it from the deck, cast off the steam pipes, and tell +me when you have it adrift. And, just one other +thing. Work silently. There's a fog coming on, +and it will carry sounds like a telephone. Hullo, +there's madam." He jumped down the upper +bridge ladder, and stood before her. "Now I +thought I'd got you comfortably stowed away +in a clean, warm room, out of harm's way. You +really mustn't come out on deck here." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't want to be a burden to you. The +room was clean, certainly. But warm! It was +like a greenhouse. And the smell of oil! Perhaps +you didn't know, but the cabin I was given opened +right on to the engine-room. I should have been +sick if I'd stayed there another minute." +</p> + +<p> +"My good woman, if necessary, be sick. Other +people have tried it and survived. If you're spotted +out on deck here by the chap I'm expecting, it's all +up with us—and, by gad! there he is, away on +the port bow. Here, this is the skipper's +drawing-room. In you go." +</p> + +<p> +He bustled her into the chart-house, slammed +the door behind her, and ran up to the bridge. +"Quartermaster, see that cruiser broad on the +port bow?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yessir." +</p> + +<p> +"Bear down to her, and if she moves, follow her." +</p> + +<p> +"Yessir. Beg pardon, sir, but she's a Dutchman. +We passed her coming in this morning. She's their +<i>Hula</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Quite right," said Plough dryly. "I happened +to be having a drink in her wardroom myself at +Kiel not two months since. Now, you there, in +the skipper's togs and the German tongue, come +up on topside here, and listen. I'm heading for +that German cruiser over yonder, because if I didn't +she'd head for me, and overhaul me in about ten +minutes. (Confound her beastly searchlight.) +You're to pose as skipper here, and pretend this +old tub's under a German charter. Stop your +engines when you come within hailing distance, and +sing out and ask her if she is the ship you were sent +to bunker. She'll say (or I hope she will) that she +isn't. Then waggle your hands, and ask them if +they can tell you where the henkers the boat you +are after, is to be found. Say you got your +instructions by telephone, and the line was bad. Say you +thought the name of the ship that wanted coaling +was the Lieben—there's about a five to one +chance she may be here—and you were to stand +on and off across the harbour mouth here till you +found her. You must use your wits, my lad, +because, I take it, you'll be hanged if you're caught, +and, anyway, I shall be squatted down under the +lee of the weather-cloth here to attend to you if +you make a hash of it. Grasp all that?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, saire." +</p> + +<p> +"Then carry on." +</p> + +<p> +The ruse, to John B. Plough's glee, succeeded +faultlessly. No; the cruiser was fully bunkered. +Yes, the Lieben was cruising in company with +her, and was stationed to s'uthward, and was very +likely expecting a collier. Sorry for troubling? +Not at all. These mistakes will happen, and shore +telephones are the devil, anyway. +</p> + +<p> +"In German, now," Lieutenant Plough hissed +from under cover of the weather cloth, "tell your +quartermaster to starboard his helm, you owl, and +telegraph the engine-room for full speed ahead." +</p> + +<p> +The man did this with full Teutonic formalities, +and the war steamer and the collier parted with +speed. Once more J.B. Plough turned to face +his lady passenger. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he said testily; "what is it now?" +</p> + +<p> +"That room you put me in is disgraceful. I lit +a match and saw the photographs on the walls. +I never felt so insulted in my life." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you're ahead of me, my good woman. +I haven't been into the room, and I haven't seen any +photographs; and, if you'll take the tip from me, +you'll go back and not light any more matches, +and then you won't see them either. You can't +stay out here on deck, anyway." +</p> + +<p> +"I won't go back—that's flat. There's another +kind of smell in there—of clothes, and people, and +herrings—and it makes me feel deathly sick. Couldn't +I come out if I put on that long oilskin coat that's +hanging in the corner, and the sou'wester? I +should look like a man then." +</p> + +<p> +"If you tuck up your petticoats as well, and +put on a pair of sea-boots. Madam, this isn't a +comic opera. It's war. And colliers don't bring +their women to sea. A hair out of place may +easily mean death for the whole crowd of us. So, +if you still insist on butting in to where you aren't +wanted, you know how to dress the part. But I +wish to heaven you'd keep under cover and be sick +in private." +</p> + +<p> +Plough ran the collier on the southerly course +in search of <i>Lieben</i> (which he especially did +not wish to find) till he was sure <i>Hula</i> was +not following him, and then turned back on his +course for home. "And that," said he, "puts us +through their light cruiser screen. Another four +miles, and we ought to get to where their destroyers +are strung out in front. If only this infernal fog +would come down good and thick in regular North +Sea fashion, instead of letting itself get thin in +patches, it's ten to one we'd slip through without +being sighted." +</p> + +<p> +The chief engineer came to the upper bridge, +and saluted Navy fashion. "Beg pardon, sir, but +any time you're going to slow down and want fog, +if you can only give me sixty seconds' warning +on ahead through the voice-tube, I can arrange it." +</p> + +<p> +"How's that?" +</p> + +<p> +"We've as cargo good, hard steam coal. For +our own bunkers we have some of the dirtiest +sludge ever shot out of a Tyneside coal-drop. If +the firemen are artists, they can make steam with +it—if they've me to look after them. But if it's +fired into the furnaces in the ordinary way, it +simply blows straight out of the stack. I can +always have it shovelled in that way if you want +a smoke, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"Good!" said John B. Plough. "That may +just save our bacon. Just you hop below one-time +and stand by to do it if I call down a warning. We +may want that smoke inside ten minutes from now." +</p> + +<p> +They did. The fog on which Plough had been +relying, instead of becoming more solid, grew whispy +and thin. Clean alleys of pure air cut through it +here and there, and the coal-boat dodged in and +out of the solid masses of vapour. +</p> + +<p> +"If only the moon would pop out now," said +Lieutenant Plough, "we'd be lit up like a theatre. +According to their own textbooks, they ought to +have six destroyers—or, at any rate, big +torpedo-boats—strung out across here, and, as they're so +brand-new to war, they're hardly likely to make +an exception of to-night. Confound them! I +wish they'd let me get home peaceably. I feel +uncommonly out of it as admiral of a collier." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Wir-r-r-umph!</i>" said a shell hurrying past +the coal-boat's bows. +</p> + +<p> +"Cheer-o!" said Plough. "There she spouts!" +and rang off his engines, "Below there! That +the chief? Good! Let's have your worst class +of smoke in the smallest possible time. There's a +Dutchman somewhere slap on top of us, and I +want to try a game on him." +</p> + +<p> +The smoke lingered—hours it seemed to Lieutenant +Plough, though in point of fact it was only +fifteen seconds—and the enemy switched on a +searchlight and made the fog opalescent. He +could hear the destroyer nosing this way and that +through the thickness, going at a big pace ahead, +then at the full of her speed astern, and on every +slant edging nearer. +</p> + +<p> +Then, providentially, the fog thickened, and +evil-smelling smoke also began to billow forth +from the stack, thick, and glutinous, and black. +"Fore-deck there—Mr. Mate!" Plough hissed out. +</p> + +<p> +"Aye-aye—sir." +</p> + +<p> +"Heave up that loco boiler chock-a-block, to +your starboard derrick, sway outboard, and make +fast with a hemp stopping on the wire as I told +you. When you hear me whistle, cut." +</p> + +<p> +A winch clacked and grunted, and a sheave +screamed. Plough swore at the noise, and pulled +the string of his syren to drown it. The fog might +clear, or the smoke thin—it was now or never. +The destroyer raced briskly up to where the great +steam whistle boomed. +</p> + +<p> +It was not the smallest use trying the German +skipper dodge here. Destroyers in the outside +line do not coal at sea. Lieutenant Plough sung +out to have a Jacob's ladder put over the rail +abreast of the foremast, and waited, leaden whistle +in mouth. +</p> + +<p> +The German destroyer swung up through the +murk in a bustle of hurry and importance. She +sheered round with one reversed propeller when +she caught the collier's loom, and ran smartly up +alongside. Her men stood on her deck, armed like +pirates, and all ready to board. "Surrender, you +beastly Britisher!" sung out a bearded officer on +her bridge, as the sides of the two ships rasped together. +</p> + +<p> +Plough blew his whistle; knives cut the stopping +of the winch wire, and the huge steel boiler, weighted +to the brim with water, dropped like a stone on to +the flimsy decking of the vessel alongside. It hit +her between her two foremost funnels, and shore +through thin steel plate and angle iron as though +they had been so much pie-crust. +</p> + +<p> +One of her own boilers shot up with a whisk of +steam and white-hot coal. Another boiler +followed. Then a magazine created a volcano of +its own, and then the war heads of the deck +torpedoes added their quota to the inferno. +</p> + +<p> +On the moment of impact Plough had rung +for "Full speed" from his own engines, but the +series of explosions had begun and ended before +the ex-naval artificer below had got speed on +her. The collier winced and reeled to the shocks, +but the damage she received was practically nil. +All her plates, all her frames were backed with +buttresses of coal. She was packed with coal from +floors to deckbeams, and was about as impervious +to shock as a granite pier-head. The exploding +destroyer spurned her away, but did not damage her. +</p> + +<p> +"If I could own up to sinking that joker," said +John B. Plough when at last the collier drew clear, +and was plunging away at her normal nine knots +through the friendly darkness, "the Admiralty +would give me a tin medal. As it is, I guess my +pigeon is to sing low. I'm an awful duffer at +writing reports and giving explanations of anything +outside routine——" +</p> + +<p> +An oilskinned figure tapped him sharply on the arm. +"Do you call that fair?" asked his passenger. +</p> + +<p> +"I call it jolly smart, if you ask me. There +are no Queensberry rules in this game. It's +war—plain, naked war—and war's hell. If I didn't +sink, burn, and destroy an enemy's ship when I +got the chance, the taxpayer who stumps up my +wages would grumble. And you wouldn't like +him to do that, would you, madam?" +</p> + +<p> +The lady shivered. "If it wasn't that I'm +absolutely bound to get home, I wish I'd never come. +You must have killed twenty of them." +</p> + +<p> +"Sixty, I hope," said Plough. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * +</p> + +<p> +They ran into Harwich without further +interference, and Lieutenant John B. Plough went +ashore in the boat he had stolen from a stranger +in a German port, without saying good-bye, or +asking anybody's leave. He judged quite rightly +that the fat mate would acquire merit for bringing +a valuable steamboat and cargo home out of the +jaws of Total Loss, and did not concern himself +about that officer's feelings any further. +</p> + +<p> +He was apologetic only to his lady passenger as +he handed her out on to a beach and kicked adrift +the rowing-boat that had carried them. +</p> + +<p> +"Sorry I've had to 'come the quarter-deck' +over you once or twice, madam, but we've been +in some tightish places, and they didn't bear +monkeying with." He grinned at her affably all over +his red, clean-shaven face. Women always said +he had a most ingratiating smile. "Come, now, +we'll go up to the Railway Hotel and have a good +dinner and a bottle of pop, and I bet we part good +friends after all." +</p> + +<p> +"I am obliged to you," said the lady stiffly, +"but I do not dine alone with young men in the +Navy. I have my reputation to think about just +as much as other people. I thank you most heartily +for bringing me home, and you must excuse my +getting familiar and offering you advice when you +killed all those poor fellows on that destroyer. I +was rather upset at the time. I wonder if I might +ask one more favour?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, my——certainly, madam. Ten, if +you like." +</p> + +<p> +She opened her hand-bag, and from it gave him +a small pack of cards. They read: +</p> + +<pre> + ┌────────────────────────────────────────┐ + │ │ + │ MADAME ARTHUR. │ + │ MODES ET ROBES. │ + │ │ + │ Manningham, Millinery │ + │ Bradford. a Specialité. │ + │ │ + └────────────────────────────────────────┘ +</pre> + +<p> +"If you would distribute those amongst your +lady friends, it would be a great help to me. You +may assure anyone you introduce that prices will +be made most reasonable to her throughout the +War, if she says she comes from you." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> + +<h2> +VII +<br><br> +THE LADY KILLER +</h2> + +<p> +The bullet entered the peat wall of the butt +with a luscious <i>plop</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle continued to keep his eye +on the particular bird he had singled from the +advancing pack of grouse, swung his gun judiciously +ahead of it, and fired. The bird dropped neatly. +He got another behind with his second barrel, +marked their position with empty cartridge cases +on the wall of the butt, and congratulated himself +pleasantly on the neat right and left as he reloaded. +Then he turned about and inquired tartly from the +spaces of the moor as to who the devil had the +impudence to shoot at him. +</p> + +<p> +There was no doubt about it being a bullet. In +the lamentable event of being peppered by a +neighbour in the next butt, the grouse shooter generally +registers the marks on his person, never on his butt. +Also grouse-butts are more or less in line, and +shotgun attacks (however much they can be explained +away) are always on the flank. This was from +some sector of the rear, as the ugly hole in the wet +peat abundantly proved. Further—lady novelists +notwithstanding—rifles are not in common use for +the purpose of grouse shooting. +</p> + +<p> +"Now I wonder," the little mariner mused, "if +that was meant for me?" +</p> + +<p> +The answer came promptly. Another bullet +plopped into the butt, and Captain Kettle felt that +he would have to miss the rest of that drive. He +walked round to the rear of the butt, lit himself a +fresh cigar, placed this with its burning end +up-wind so that it would emit a noticeable smoke, and +crawled away, gun in hand, on a tour of reconnaissance. +Further <i>plops</i> announced that the stranger +was aiming at the smoke and trying to shoot him +through the butt. +</p> + +<p> +The sound of the shots had not come to him, so +he knew the sniper must be at a good distance. +He crawled first to the next butt, which happened +to shelter his host, and made announcement:— +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Carnforth, sir, don't look up, and please +go on shooting. Some blighter in the rear has had +the impudence to bombard me with a rifle, and I'm +going back to take down his name and address." +</p> + +<p> +"Gee!" said Mr. Martin Carnforth, M.P., "that'll +be our friend the spy. He didn't seem to put you +off your shooting. That was an uncommon neat +right and left. Bit above your average form with +grouse." +</p> + +<p> +"I was never able to take up game shooting till +I'd left the sea, sir, and on the farm in Wharfedale +we have mostly rabbits. I hope I'll be back again +for lunch, sir, but if I'm not, please don't wait." +</p> + +<p> +"Can't I come too? The pair of us would have +more chance of catching your pal than you will +alone. And after all, it is my moor, and so I ought +to have a say on what's shot on it." +</p> + +<p> +"Better not, sir. You must keep on remembering +that you are a Member of Parliament and +your job is to talk, not to do things. I shall be +back for that luncheon if it can be managed. I saw +a steak and kidney pie put aside for the shooting +hut this morning that I want to see more of." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle, however, did not turn up for +that pleasant shooting lunch, and his butt was empty +for the rest of the day. Carnforth parried inquiries +from the other guns about his "naval friend," by +suggesting that he had "been called away O.H.M.S. +The chap does a good deal in that line on the quiet, +I believe, but for the Lord's sake don't say I told +you so, or he'll bite my head off. You know what +these special service fellows are." +</p> + +<p> +The sailor by means best known to himself, got +back to the house in time for dinner that night, +dressed in five minutes—for a man who never had +much practice, the way he could tie a dress tie +bordered on the miraculous—and came down looking +as if he had stepped out of a bandbox. He +played an extremely good knife and fork at dinner, +got outside three-quarters of a bottle '70 port after +it, and then settled down in the billiard room +(which is really part of the hall) within easy range +of a box of Carnforth's five-inch Coronas Colorados. +He was smoking the seventh of these when the last +of the other guests thought "bed was the best idea +that occurred to him just then," and Carnforth +mentioned that he "thought the beggars would +never go. I'll mix you another whisky and soda. +And now kindly tell me what you've been playing +at all the afternoon. I bar a man that you've asked +to shoot who goes and bags all the sport to himself." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, sir, those peat hags at the back of Cow +Ghyll butts weren't intended for a gentleman of +your generous figure to scramble through." +</p> + +<p> +"You leave my figure alone, you one-legged +ruffian. I'll walk you level from here to Pateley +Bridge for a tenner—no, I won't. Go on." +</p> + +<p> +"There's nothing much to tell. I had a general +notion of my sniper's direction, and set out to work +up to l'ooard of him. There was a bit of a breeze +and I thought he would never hear me, and he +didn't. He kept on pegging away at that spot +below my cigar smoke, in the hopes of hitting me +in the back through the butt. When I'd got level +with him—and I tell you sir it's cruel hard work +on a hot August day making a passage through +those hags——" +</p> + +<p> +"Even for a man who hasn't a pot belly." +</p> + +<p> +"For any one, sir. Well, I just worked up to +l'ooard, and he spotted me just as I was within +gunshot, and started to lift his rifle." +</p> + +<p> +"Go on, man. Go on." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I just gave him two barrels of number five. +My gun makes a nice large pattern at seventy +yards, and I guess I didn't leave much of him without +a pellet to remind him he'd been taking liberties. +He wore a shooting hat just like yours sir, and a +well used burberry." +</p> + +<p> +"Get on, Captain. You're a rotten hand at +telling a yarn. Did you gather him?" +</p> + +<p> +"I did not. I just turned tail, and ran away here." +</p> + +<p> +"You what?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ran as near like a hare, sir, as an artificial leg +would let me. You see, I gathered from remarks +when that hail of shot got home that he was a 'she.' It's +one of the many disabilities of the other sex, +sir, that when they want to swear, and really have +cause, they don't know how to do it efficiently. +I'm a modest man, Mr. Carnforth, and I felt too +ashamed of listening to stay there any longer. +And, of course, the lady wouldn't have been hurt +really, only stung at seventy yards, though I once +did drop a woodcock with the choke of that gun +at seventy-five." +</p> + +<p> +"Hum," said Carnforth, "I don't call this business. +You discover that our spy is a woman—which +I will grant is a good step in advance. But +you have had her in your hands, and let the creature +go. Theoretically, in both the Services, men have +been hanged for less." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, sir," said Kettle rather stiffly, "I am +neither in the Navy nor in the Army, and I don't +scrap with women. I leave that for you politicians, +sir. I've felt more uncomfortable than you +can think, sir, at the idea of having shot her." +</p> + +<p> +"Quite regardless of the trifle that for a good +hour she was trying her best to murder you. Highly +quixotic, I'm sure. Pity you're not a bachelor, and +could end the tale with the usual wedding-bells. I +suppose, by the way, she was supremely beautiful?" +</p> + +<p> +"She'd a figure like a pear, and one of the +homeliest faces I ever saw. But that doesn't make her +any the less woman, sir, or excuse me for filling +her with shot-corns." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah," said Carnforth thoughtfully, "I wonder +if your lady friend is also a friend of mine. +Pear-shaped figure, and an ugly face you say. +Pince-nez, by any chance?" +</p> + +<p> +"Plain steel-rimmed spectacles, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"We're getting warmer. A round pug-nose, +and a good flourishing black moustache, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +"Her nose might be as you say. As regards +the other matter, sir, I should never dream of +noticing such a thing on a lady." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Martin Carnforth hit the edge of the billiard-table +and hurt his hand. "I bet a thousand acres +of grouse-moor to a keg of sourkraut I know the +lady's name and late address. We're getting into +deep waters. Did you ever come across Hermann +Vogelheimer?" +</p> + +<p> +"I did, sir, half-a-dozen years ago, and wonder +I didn't leave my mark on him." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, what was the trouble?" +</p> + +<p> +"He asked me how much I gave for my K.C.B., +the swine." +</p> + +<p> +"And you got furious, and told him such things +weren't bought and sold in this country?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know how you guessed, Mr. Carnforth, +but that is about what I did say, except that I +added he was a dirty German Jew, and told him +pretty accurately how he'd been bred and where +he'd go to later." +</p> + +<p> +"How like you. Well, Captain, he's Sir Hermann +Vogelheimer, baronet, to-day, and on paper +a pukka Englishman, in spite of the trifle of his +accent, and if you call him either German or Jew +in public he'll bring an action for libel. I know +how much he gave for the title, because I worked +the deal myself, as it happened. Our Party funds +were dead low just then, and something desperate +had to be done. We were past decency at the +moment. I remember, when I had to fill in what +the beast had done for the country, the only thing +I could find to his credit was that he had once given +a clock to a mechanics' institute—and I suppressed +the detail that he had previously sold them the +building site at an exorbitant profit. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, this man had a sort of governess-secretary +person called Fräulein Berta Schauer in his +household up to the beginning of the war. Since then +she has been living about the country on her own, +with enough money at her command to make her +interesting. You quite take me? She'd no money +before the war, or we'll say spent none. Now she's +lots, and is very, very kind to soldiers, military +doctors, and young subalterns in want of a dinner. +Incidentally she is so much like your heroine of +the moor, that the coincidence is, to say the least +of it—damn that billiard-table, I've smashed my +knuckles again." +</p> + +<p> +"We could, of course," suggested Captain Kettle +thoughtfully, "haul this Vogelheimer out of his +bed some night, and hang him quietly from a tree +in his garden if you think fit, sir. I suppose it +would be no use giving information to the +Government. They'd know he'd parted with money in +the past, and would only bleed him for more, and +the spy business would not be touched." +</p> + +<p> +Carnforth grinned. "You've a delightfully clear +opinion about politicians, Captain. I wouldn't go +so far as to agree with you that the Government +would proceed to blackmail our man if they had the +chance, but I fancy they're mindful of past favours. +Anyway, he isn't interned, and a child can see he +ought to be. But, of course, that's the ordinary +rule. We only intern poor Germans, and those who +don't subscribe to our Party funds. Moreover, +you are going a bit too fast. We've no evidence +that the immaculate Sir Hermann is running this +spy game, and as he is one of the most capable men +in Great Britain at this minute, it's heavy odds we +don't find any evidence. But if we keep a watchful +eye on your shot-pocked Fräulein Schauer——" +</p> + +<p> +"You'll excuse me, Mr. Carnforth, sir, but I don't +scrap with women, and I've done that one more +damage than I care about already. With your +leave, I'm going to drop the whole business. I'll +just take another cigar with me for before breakfast, +and now I'll turn in." +</p> + +<p> +Carnforth watched his guest as he stumped up +the stairs at the other side of the hall. "Go to +sleep by all means for the present, and I'll get busy. +Later, if you're wanted, and the intrusive petticoat +is wafted away from your modest sight, you'll help +most efficiently. I never came across a man who +hated Germans—or Dutchmen, as you will persist +in calling them—more efficiently. You might not +make a good minister, but if they had you in the +Cabinet you'd have a big value in killing off the +dangerous ones. Um! I hate travelling at night, +but I fancy a fifty—no, it'll be a seventy-mile motor +run will have its uses just now. Nice work for a +middle-aged gentleman after a hard day's grouse +shooting. Well, I shall probably breakfast a bit +late, that's all." +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p> +The apologetic butler who came into Captain +Kettle's room at five o'clock next morning was +rather surprised to find any guest in the house rouse +so suddenly into perfect wakefulness. He was +unused to the habits of sailors, but being the +complete butler he did not flicker so much as the +eyebrow of surprise. He said with stolid and perfect +courtesy, "The Master telephones, sir, that he would +be obliged if you would meet him at Fordham as +soon as you can get there. It is about eighty +miles. If you have any doubt about going, I was +to mention that without your help there will be +three ships of the British Navy sunk within four +hours' time. I shall have our big Napier ready +for you, sir, by the time you are dressed." +</p> + +<p> +"Always pleased to give the Navy a leg up," +said the mariner briskly. "Just hand me that +wooden leg out of the portmanteau, will you? +No, not the one I wore yesterday. Now go and +get that car. I'll be at the front door as soon as +it is round." +</p> + +<p> +The big car hurtled out coastwards through the +end of the autumn night, and quickened as dawn +made the roads more clear. The driver flicked out +his electrics and turned to his passenger. "If +you're not nervous, Sir Owen, I can open her up +a bit now." +</p> + +<p> +"I am always nervous with these beastly +road-engines," Captain Kettle admitted, "when I'm +not conning them myself, but push her along, my +lad. The tune of this car up to now has fitted in +with 'Greenland's Icy Mountains,' and I suppose +you'll hit it up now to the air of the 'Turkish +Patrol,' and that will spoil the rhythm of some poetry +I was making. But don't mind that. I'm not the +man to let pleasure stand in the way of business." +</p> + +<p> +They met Carnforth half-a-dozen miles outside +Fordham, the big grey car drawn up at a crossroads +inn advertising his whereabouts. It was +six-thirty in the morning, and he was eating ham +and eggs and drinking beer. Also he was in dress +clothes, unshaven, and the worse for wear. +</p> + +<p> +"You look as if you have been climbing trees, +sir," said Captain Kettle, with all a tidy man's +disgust for the dishevelled. +</p> + +<p> +"It was walls and a fall-pipe, and I've broken +all my nails and the knee of one of my trousers. +You needn't turn up your nose at my frugal meal; +it's supper for me, not breakfast. Have some?" +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, sir, I think I will. Your man has +scared me so with the pace he's driven, I'm hungry +enough to eat two breakfasts. But I expected to +meet you at the coast, sir. Your message mentioned +something about giving a leg up to the Navy." +</p> + +<p> +"All in good time. I suppose you don't know +anything about wireless? A bit since your day, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +The little sailor drew himself up stiffly. "I +keep myself up to date, sir. I take in every issue +of the <i>Syren and Shipping</i> and the <i>Patent +Medicine Recorder</i> and read through every word +of both, advertisements included. And as it +happened, for my last Christmas holiday, I took a run +across the Western Ocean in a boat fitted with wireless +to see how it worked. A Mr. McTodd, a retired +sea-going engineer of my acquaintance, was interested +in her as a shareholder, and gave me every +facility. He came too. He——" Captain Kettle +was evidently on the brink of disclosures, but bit +them off with a firm lip. "He and I came home +by different boats." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, there's wireless and wireless, and I fancy +the instalment I'm nosing after isn't the usual sort. +I put the Home Office on to an instalment like it +once before. They (after I began to get nasty) +discovered it wasn't their job, and handed me on +to the Post Office. The Post Office went to sleep +over it for three weeks, and then when I roused +them by methods I wouldn't like to describe to +you, said they'd taken tests and proved that no +wireless messages had been sent or received from +the area under discussion. I didn't believe them. +But they'd wasted two months of valuable time, +and when their final report came, my birds had +got frightened and bolted. Now we can't afford to +be hung up like that again. This is business, and +one can't expect business from a Government office." +</p> + +<p> +"I've known the Board of Trade get busy quick +enough, sir," said Kettle rather bitterly. "Is this +wireless you're after some new patent? +</p> + +<p> +"I can only guess, but I've a notion it's an +improvement on a type that was talked about in the +text-books before the Marconi sort was heard of." +</p> + +<p> +"You're rather vague, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"I am. But I'm open to bet seven years' penal +servitude to nothing I'm right." +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle looked puzzled. "I don't take +you, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"What I'm going to do within the next half-hour—and +what you can chip in at if you like—will +be put down as armed burglary of Sir Hermann +Vogelheimer's house, if I'm wrong. If we're right, +and save a nice little squadron of British ships, +probably nothing will be said about the method. +We shan't be thanked anyway. Here are a few +more details," said Carnforth, and gave them. +"Question is, are you going to risk coming?" +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle tried to look disturbed and +failed. "It seems to me more than a one-man +job, sir, and I think perhaps it would be better I +should come and stand by in case of trouble, especially +as you can guarantee I shan't see Miss Schauer. +It would be most embarrassing to meet that lady +with my shot-corns still making her feel sore. I've +brought along that automatic you lent me yesterday, +though I must say my old Hopkins-Allen .380 +feels more homelike." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +At this point unfortunately a gap occurs in history. +Captain Kettle refuses to fill it. Mr. Martin +Carnforth, M.P., for sound reasons, I cannot get at. +I suppose the pair of them raided the house of Sir +Hermann Vogelheimer in broad daylight and made +that Teutonic baronet squeal. I say I suppose they +did this, because when I suggested it Captain Kettle +surreptitiously licked his lips. But he provided +no details, either for publication or for anything +else. As a side issue, I did get an inkling once of +the method Vogelheimer used for signalling. We +were talking of wireless, and I said it was odd that +the heat-ray method had never been developed. +</p> + +<p> +"That's all you know about it, my lad," Kettle +snapped. "Get a multiple arc with plenty of juice +at the back of it, filter out the light with a screen, +and you can send messages down a heat ray that a +telephonic nerve can pick up thirty miles away. +That's the way Vogel——" +</p> + +<p> +"Who did you say?" +</p> + +<p> +"No one. But the thing's been done. That +you can take from me. I've seen it." And he +then proceeded to give me a precis of his last week's +sermon to the Wharfedale Particular Methodists +by way of changing the subject. +</p> + +<p> +A gap, as I say, mutilates the sequence, and I can +only take up events again on a particularly +unpleasant timber-laden barquentine of Swedish register +somewhere in the North Sea. The unfortunate +vessel advertised herself to the waters at large as +a derelict. Her crew had been driven from her by +Germans, and a bomb had done its best to sink her. +But a lading of timber buoyed her up, and she +floated dismantled, bulwarkless, and waterlogged, as +a menace to shipping, and a gossiping spot for gulls. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of latitude and longitude given, and +elaborate calculations for current drift and wind +drift, Captain Kettle spent a whole day searching +the grey rollers of the North Sea before he found +her, and one man had a leg smashed in the +subsequent transhipment of the three-inch gun. +</p> + +<p> +Where the gun came from I do not know, but +suspect Carnforth. Mr. Martin Carnforth, M.P., +had been in the gun-running business before, as +has been recorded, and presumably knew where to +procure weapons when needed, even though officially +such a thing was not to be got for love or money +by anyone outside the two Services. Anyway, +there the gun was; the latest thing; firing from +a shoulder-piece and delicately balanced by recoil +cylinders; fitted with an ample shield; and capable, +with efficient loading, of getting off twenty +unpleasant shells per minute. Most of the +barquentine's deckload had survived its wartime +experiences, and Kettle's first orders were directed +to digging a gunpit out of this. +</p> + +<p> +When the tender steamed away, there were three +of them left besides himself, to wit, Carnforth and +two other grouse-shooters, one a supercilious +barrister, and the other a florid stockbroker, and the +three instinctively dropped under the little sailor's +orders. They tore at the deals till their hands +bled, and their wrists were full of splinters; they +sweated at augers; they strained at spanners; they +worked with panting fury till they had got their gun +bolted down, with its slim store of shells laid handy. +</p> + +<p> +For a minute they stood round, thawing their +stiff muscles, and admiring their work. +</p> + +<p> +"Filthy life sailors must lead," commented the +barrister. +</p> + +<p> +"By James, you're right," said Captain Kettle, +"and they deserve a sight more consideration than +they get." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said the stockbroker, "here's hoping +there's soon a slump in submarines; I say, Captain, +haven't we earned a drink?" +</p> + +<p> +The cabin aft was afloat, the forecastle the same, +and the galley, a green-painted wooden box, clamped +down to the decks by an iron strap, was the only +place of shelter. A shrewd rain-laden breeze was +blowing from the eastward, and the water-logged +derelict behaved like a half-tide rock. Her four +inhabitants were bone-weary, sodden wet, icily +cold. But only two could shelter in the galley at a +time, and that without fire. Captain Kettle +ordained that there should be always two on watch, +and he forbade the showing of smoke or any other +ensign of human occupancy. +</p> + +<p> +The three-inch gun was shrouded from the gaze +of the gulls and others by the tattered and sodden +remains of a main-topmast staysail. This flapped +about artistically between wind and water, and +would appear to the inquirer (when one arrived) +as the piece of genuine wreckage it really was. The +gunpit and this erratic canvas also gave some shelter +to the officer and man of the watch, but as the +North Sea ebbed and flowed through the floor of +the pit, or gushed in (when it felt inclined) over its +edges, the place, as a sentry-box was not without +its inconveniences. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't mind eating soaked biscuit and +sardine," said Carnforth, "but even my stomach +refuses sea-water and whisky. Can't you screw +her round head to wind, somehow, Captain? This +wallowing in the trough is the very devil. +Incidentally, it will make me sea-sick soon." +</p> + +<p> +"But it looks natural, and that's what we needed. +Believe me, sir, these Dutchmen spot the least +thing nowadays that's suspicious. They're getting +the savvy of white men. Mind you don't get +a clip on the head from one of the hanks of that +staysail, Mr. Carnforth. Duck, sir. By James, +that one nearly flicked your brains out. You +should take care. You must remember, sir, that +if these Dutch submarines come up, as arranged, +you'll be needed presently, and it's shirking your +duty if you get killed beforehand." +</p> + +<p> +The autumn night wore through, cold, windy, +and bitter, but, with a niggard dawn, the wind +eased, and grey pallisades of rain hedged the derelict +into a narrow circus of sullenly rolling water. +Gulls mewed at them from the ruined fore-top. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle rubbed his wet hands appreciatively. +"Perfect weather, isn't it, Mr. Carnforth? +You'd like more sporting shooting, I know. +But with this thickness they'll have to come close +so as to pick up their mark, and we can pot them +with our gun like sitting rabbits. I'm not like you, +sir; I'm not out for sport just now; what I want +is to make a big bag of good Germans. The only +thing I can't understand is why this floating wreck +should be set out as a rendezvous. A sailor, if he +wanted to make an appointment in the middle of the +North Sea, would just give a latitude and longitude." +</p> + +<p> +Carnforth chuckled. "But you see neither the +eminent Sir Hermann nor his lady friend that we +agree to call Miss Schauer are sailors." +</p> + +<p> +"You never mentioned, sir," said Kettle +disgustedly, "that the lady was in it." +</p> + +<p> +"Forgot," said Carnforth, with complete absence +of truth. "You're so shy of petticoats, most +eminent Captain, I thought you'd wriggle out of +the job if you knew. Gee! Look! That chap's +coming down on top of us." +</p> + +<p> +A black Norwegian collier, with stump top-masts, +poked her ugly dray-horse bows out of the +grey sea mist, and bore down stolidly and squarely +on to them. The derelict was helpless. There +did not seem a possibility that she could escape +destruction. And the chances were a hundred to one +that if she were hit she would scrape the bottom off +the collier and take her to the North Sea floor in +convoy. Even the sea-fowl got scared, and flew away. +</p> + +<p> +The mountainous bows, yawning wildly to the seas, +made for them as if drawn by a wire, and the nerve +of Martin Carnforth, M.P., gave way. He leapt +to his feet and tried to shout a warning. But with +a cat's quickness Kettle's knees were against his +shoulder-blades, and Kettle's cold, wet right hand +clapped hard over his mouth, and Martin Carnforth, +M.P., flopped back into the sea-water at the bottom +of the gun-pit. +</p> + +<p> +The staysail bellied and snapped above them, +and the look-out on the collier (who then for the +first time woke up) saw only a timber-laden +derelict, deserted even by the sea-birds. He made +swift outcry, and the mechanism, human and +mechanical, on the bridge responded. The clumsy +bows, ducking and curtsying, took a slow sheer +to port, and missed the barquentine's splintering +sides by a short fathom. +</p> + +<p> +The ponderous stern bore in to starboard and +grazed the derelict's quarter. The water from her +condenser sluiced along the deck-load. The popple +of her wake set the barquentine dancing like a cork +till she had pulled out through the palings of the +rain, and vanished on the trail of her own +inconsiderable affairs. +</p> + +<p> +"Beg your pardon, sir," said Captain Kettle, +getting off his friend's head. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't mention it. Gee! Those other two +chaps in the galley must have nerves! They never +let up a whimper. I'm getting jumpy. Must be +growing old." +</p> + +<p> +"The other two gentlemen are both asleep, sir. +The thin, superior one's head had slid off (when I +looked in the galley last) on to a piece of beef that +hadn't been fresh for a fortnight, and the stockbroker +must be a Tynesider from the homely way he's +snuggled down amongst the coals. Well, sir, we +don't count near squeaks at sea. There aren't +enough log-books made to enter them up. I wish +you'd finish what you were saying about Vogelheimer +when that coal-boat broke you off." +</p> + +<p> +"The Admiralty have been allowed to pick up +an ordinary wireless which let out that a German +cruiser squadron was to rendezvous where we are +now, preparatory to a raid on Scarboro'. It was +judged, rightly enough, that some British ships +would be sent to attend to them. Vogelheimer sent +all this news down his own heat-ray wireless (that +we thickheaded British can't tap), and I guess it +was picked up by a German submarine thirty miles +out at sea. I'm not sure about that, you +understand; but it was received by somebody, because +I heard it acknowledged myself whilst I was in the +room. And then, as you know, we got spotted, and +you had your little interview with Vogelheimer when +he rushed out on to the leads to see who his callers +were. I can guarantee I smashed their wireless most +efficiently, and, though the operator bolted——" +</p> + +<p> +"The operator, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, it was your shot-marked friend. Lord, +Captain, you did pepper her, to judge by the marks! +She ran like an animated pear when she saw me—thought +I'd another shot-gun, I suppose. And as +I guessed she was too scared to pull up this side of +a hundred miles, I let her go. Other things were too +pressing. And besides, I knew your sentiments." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't consider you've treated me fairly in +this matter, sir." +</p> + +<p> +Carnforth grinned. "I haven't. You see, I +wanted to use you, and, knowing your scruples, I +just circumnavigated them most unscrupulously. +I've got you out here. British cruisers are +probably coming, though I hope they change their +minds or miss their way, but German submarines +are going to turn up within the next hour or so, for +an absolute certainty. We shall probably get +scuppered ourselves before lunch-time, but if we +send plenty of Germans before us into the Shades, +I shan't mind that much. It will be a more decent +ending than most Members of Parliament acquire." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir, quite so, and you and the other two +gentlemen may die as arranged. But, by James! +I'm not out in the wet old North Sea to get killed. +You'll see I shall do all that's needful, and get home +again to Lady Kettle as promised to her. If you +go into these little affairs with an appointment with +your wife in your pocket-book, when you've carried +them through successfully you keep that appointment, +and go round the garden with her quite +pleasantly, and see the roses that have grown since +you've been away, and arrange the date when you'll +dig the potatoes and put them in a pie. There was +something that made me feel a bit like former times, +Mr. Carnforth, that I saw just inside the main +companion." +</p> + +<p> +"What was that?" +</p> + +<p> +"An accordion, sir—the Old Man's, possibly, +or perhaps Mr. Mate's. It was coming unstuck with +the wet, and every other note was dumb. But it +would be very pleasant to squeeze music out of +an accordion again. You see, sir, since we've been +prosperous and had the harmonium in the house, +Lady Kettle says accordions are low. She won't +try to play the bigger machine herself, and I can't +learn, and my daughter, Mrs. Hunter, that had +such splendid lessons on it from the master in +Skipton, is seldom with us nowadays. So you see, we +get no music except what that little cat from down +the dale pumps out in chapel on Sundays. She +always plays the hymns I hate, and when I try to +get her to put through one with a lift on it, she's +always pat with an excuse.—— My great James, sir, +stand-by! There's another steamboat coming—a +big fellow and in a hurry, by the sound of his +propeller. Down under the staysail, sir—down under +the staysail, I say—or you'll get another thick ear!" +</p> + +<p> +It was no black-painted collier this time that +bore down upon them, but a vast steel ship, painted, +it seemed, to the very tint of the rain-mists +themselves. She was unsubstantial, and yet solid; a +ghost ship, and yet grinning with guns; carrying +no man in open sight, yet awake enough to train a +score of ugly muzzles on the barquentine in case +of accident. +</p> + +<p> +She was twenty thousand tons of hate embodied +in hardened steel, and she slid in and out of their +narrow, rain-swept horizon at the pace of an ordinary +train. Captain Kettle peered at her from under +the flapping edge of the staysail, and tugged +perplexedly at his red torpedo beard. +</p> + +<p> +"My great James! Mr. Carnforth, what kind +of a mess have we here? That duck's not Dutch +any more than she's English." +</p> + +<p> +"French, she looked to me." +</p> + +<p> +"French all over. I never saw anything more +French in my life. But what's she doing out +here?" +</p> + +<p> +"Skipper felt he'd like a cod steak for breakfast, +so they just slipped across to the Dogger for an +evening's fishing." +</p> + +<p> +"You've a great imagination, sir. I suppose +you need it in Parliament. But upon my sam, +although the explanation's sheer foolishness, I can't +think of a better. Unless——" +</p> + +<p> +"Well? Unless what?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"Unless our pear-shaped friend has got another +move on her were you going to say?" +</p> + +<p> +"I was, as it happened. But I shan't interfere +with her further. It makes me hot, Mr. Carnforth, +to think of the damage I've done to that lady +already." +</p> + +<p> +"Anyway, she's out of our range at the moment. +By God, though, if that woman's had the cleverness +to send French ships into the trap as well as British, +she's got some energy, and some tackle to use it +with. She——" +</p> + +<p> +"Here they are, sir, at last! Slip you forrard +to the galley and rouse up the other two. Keep +out of sight going. You must crawl behind those +deals. And keep out of sight when you are there +till you hear me whang off the first shot. It's all +in with these Dutchmen now, and I'm not going to +let the swine hit first, if it can be avoided. But +when you hear the bang, run aft to here, all three +of you, for all you're worth. Got that?" +</p> + +<p> +"Aye, aye, sir," said Martin Carnforth, M.P., +and crawled away on the errand as briskly as his +portliness would permit. +</p> + +<p> +The German submarine came on with her decks +just clear of the water, and her bows nodding over +or nosing through the seas. She had a gun on her +foredeck and another aft, and high-booted men +stood alertly beside each, with the water swirling +between-whiles up to their knees. A conning-tower +like a wedding-cake decorated her amidships, +with a periscope, and a wireless mast that emitted +a pennon of stinking smoke. Three bearded dirty +men occupied the top of the conning-tower. Captain +Kettle, clapped snugly into the shoulder-piece +of his gun, slipped down his sights to point-blank, +and took steady aim at the centre of where that +wedding-cake joined the hull. +</p> + +<p> +"If they weren't these fancy new kind of Dutchmen," +said Captain Kettle as he pressed home his +trigger, "it wouldn't be fair to shoot them sitting +like this. By James, that joker's got it where the +chicken got the axe—right in the neck." +</p> + +<p> +The 3-inch shell, discharged at some forty yards, +distance, tore through the plating of the +conning-tower as though it had been biscuit-tin, and +exploded inside. The conning-tower opened like +an expanding lily. The men on the top of it +disappeared into mist. The men below were involved +in what appeared to be a secondary explosion. The +men on the fore and after decks stuck grimly to +their guns, and fired them in the face of death—and +fired them without result. +</p> + +<p> +They had no time to reload; their ship was sinking +bodily beneath them; and into a sea, iridescent +with escaping fuel oil, they were presently swept, +together with scalded survivors escaping from below. +Carnforth and his two friends, racing along from the +galley to join Kettle in the gunpit, stopped in their +stride, and commenced throwing deals overboard, +with the Englishman's ordinary instinct for saving life. +Then out of the rain-mist whiz-crash came a shell, +and whiz-crash came another, and the wet air was +full of hissing splinters as these exploded amongst +the deals. +</p> + +<p> +"By James, Mr. Carnforth," Kettle called out, +"if you don't carry out my orders, I'll attend to +you later. Here's submarine number two arriving, +and I've got to load this gun for myself like a +common deckhand. By James, sir, I'm captain of this +packet, and you've got to remember it. Come +away aft here, one-time." +</p> + +<p> +Carnforth and the barrister obeyed the call. +The plump stockbroker stayed behind, spread out +in a limp heap on the derelict's deckload. +</p> + +<p> +The amateurs loaded briskly and shot well. +The professionals (despite an austere drill) loaded +better and shot more accurately. Moreover, they +had two guns to the barquentine's one, and they +were firing at a background that splintered at a +touch and spread a torrent of horror, whilst Kettle +was aiming at chilled steel plates. +</p> + +<p> +The Germans did not miss; the derelict sang with +splinters that were potent for death; but they +could not sink her. Captain Kettle, on his part, +did not miss either; but he could not hit a vital +part. He punctured an oil locker on the submarine's +ribs, and the sullen North Sea swell was +covered with more iridescence. He cut away the +wireless mast, and the fumes of burnt lubricating +oil stank from the conning-tower level. He swept +one of the after-gun crew into space. But he could +not give the submarine a mortal hit. And in the +meanwhile the unsinkable barquentine was +disintegrating into planks, the barrister had collapsed +badly hit, and Carnforth was white and wounded. +Captain Kettle cursed his aim, re-lit his cigar whilst +a 3-inch shell burst noisily alongside of him, and +shot doggedly on. +</p> + +<p> +Then the unexpected happened. +</p> + +<p> +All this time the submarine had been fighting +him under way, circling the derelict at some 18 +knots, and offering a difficult target. Her friends +in submarine number one, that Carnforth and the +others had tried to succour, were still squattering +in the water, but they did not strike submarine +number two as valuable. They were out of action +for the time being, and submarine number two +ignored them as though they had been so many +swimming gulls. There was more joy for submarine +number two in killing three Britons in a water-logged +derelict timber ship than in saving fifteen +compatriots. And then with a hiccough her Diesel +engines struck work (from some cause unknown), +and she lost way. +</p> + +<p> +The commanding officer of submarine number +two was a man of resource. He had saved his +torpedoes up to now for worthier game, but when +the engine trouble showed itself, and while he had +still got steerage way, he put down his helm. If he +could not sink this nuisance of the seas by shell +fire, at least he could blow her into matchwood with +a 15-inch torpedo. +</p> + +<p> +But then by a beautiful shot—Carnforth, who +knew Kettle's shooting, always declared it was a +fluke—the little sailor got in first. Submarine +number two was end on, and presented her smallest +possible target, but he hit her just as one of the stern +torpedo-tubes was being fired, and the torpedo +exploded—inboard. +</p> + +<p> +There were no swimmers from submarine number +two, and by this time those from number one +had all disappeared under the slimy oil. +</p> + +<p> +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle knocked the ash from his cigar, +and went to look at his friends. The stockbroker +was dead. He wore on his face the pleased grin +of a man who was satisfied with the end of life as +he had seen it. +</p> + +<p> +The barrister had a carotid artery slit through +by a splinter. He, also, could not last long. +Captain Kettle took off his hat. "Any message, sir?" +he asked softly. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"I beg your pardon, sir. I didn't quite catch?" +</p> + +<p> +The barrister gave the ghost of a superior smile. +"I'm afraid it's above your head, my man," said +he, and dropped back into unconsciousness. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Martin Carnforth, M.P., in the shocking +remains of what was once evening dress, was a more +profitable patient. He had been merely stunned +by one of the all-pervading splinters, and North +Sea water, strenuously applied, brought him round. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +A British destroyer storming up at 30 knots some +hours later found a small man in farmery-looking +clothes and a red torpedo beard, a wounded man +who looked like a rag-picker, and two dead on a +shattered derelict barquentine. The farmer was +playing "As pants the hart for cooling streams," +on a patched-up accordion with three dumb notes, +to an audience of three kittiwakes and a lesser +black-backed gull. +</p> + +<p> +The destroyer bustled up alongside with much +business-like confusion, took off the humans and +continued her way. The Lieutenant-Commander, +who wore a woollen comforter of a startling pink, +and a black smudge on his nose, stared hard at +Captain Kettle, and asked his name. +</p> + +<p> +"I know your face," said the Lieutenant-Commander. +"It's like some one I've seen in a +magazine illustration." +</p> + +<p> +"He is generally known as the Lady killer," said +Carnforth. +</p> + +<p> +The little sailor turned on him with a sudden +ferocity. "I'm more ashamed of what I did to that +poor stout woman than I can say, sir, and if you +make a song about it, I'll attend to you in a way +you'll remember for the rest of your natural +life." +</p> + +<p> +"What-ho!" said the Lieutenant-Commander. +"Don't let me butt into anybody's private divorce +case. Got enough of my own on hand, thanks. +Come below and have some hot cocoa. You look +as cold and wet as a brace of snipe. Step down +into the parlour and hear all the news. Perhaps +you can help to solve the latest problem they've got +ashore: 'Who hanged Sir Hermann Vogelheimer?'" +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> + +<h2> +VIII +<br><br> +AN EYE FOR AN EYE +</h2> + +<p> +Captain Kettle stepped out from the little +knoll that sheltered him, and ran rapidly +across the open. The German bullets +hummed near his ears, sang by his ribs, hissed +past his legs, and spat up fountains of dust from the +ground below, but he went steadfastly on to where +the man was writhing and squirming in the barbed +wire, and with brisk, capable fingers disentangled +him. +</p> + +<p> +The man said, "Go away, you damned fool. I'm +done for." +</p> + +<p> +"If you speak to me like that, you son of a +brick," returned the little sailor, "I will stamp +the tripes out of you. Say 'Sir' when you address +me. And lift up your starboard elbow. I've got +all the rest clear now. Will it hurt you if I lift +you by your left arm?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'd rather you left me alone. I'm done in. I'm +shot through the backbone. Thanks all the same." +</p> + +<p> +"H'up you go now," said Kettle, "and mind +don't knock off my hat, because it's the only one +I've got out here, and I have them built at Scott's, +and can't buy another nearer. Anyway, I can't +in decency leave you out there hung up in that +fencing wire for those Dutch swine to plug at. It +gives them ideas above their station." +</p> + +<p> +"It's jolly decent of you," said the soldier faintly +as Kettle lowered him gently down on the short +turf behind the knoll, "but you've wasted your +wind. I'm a goner." +</p> + +<p> +"If I'd a bottle of Horner's Perfect Cure with +me, I'd make you as fit as French. Horner's has +cured worse cases than yours. As it is, I'm afraid, +my lad, you'll have to wait till I can get one of +those regulation doctors to come and patch you +up." +</p> + +<p> +"If you could fix me a drink I'd remember you +later on. It's the very devil this thirst." +</p> + +<p> +"I know the feeling," said Kettle. "I've been +hit myself. You shall have something wet if it +can be got. I'll just put this other fellow's coat +under your head—so. He's got no further use for +it. Now take a grip on your nerves and expect +me back here in twenty-eight minutes. I've got +another man to see. But when I get back you can +build on my having some liquor of sorts in my +pocket, if it's only cold tea. Apologize in advance, +my lad, if I can't bring you anything better than +cold tea." +</p> + +<p> +"You're a good sort," said the soldier faintly, +"I won't forget, now—or later. So long. Keep +away from these pellets." +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle rose up from the man's side, +brushed the mud from his knees, made himself +as spruce as the occasion would allow, and worked +his way rearwards to the ruined brewery where +Monsieur Joseph Mumm had arranged to meet +him with the cinematograph camera. +</p> + +<p> +There was, however, no Monsieur Joseph, and +in his place lolled an extremely dirty British officer +in khaki, with red tabs on his collar. The officer +was smoking a pipe that gurgled, and was adding +artistic touches to a map of his own production. +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo," said the officer, "who the devil are +you? How's the pig trade?" +</p> + +<p> +The sailor introduced himself formally and +produced papers. +</p> + +<p> +"Come to take photographs of Belgium to annoy +William with, have you? Well, so far as I am +concerned, and especially if you can give me a box +of matches, you may go along and prosper. I'm +only a gilded subaltern of the staff and I am too +busy with my own job here to find time to run you +in. But if you go on long enough you'll come across +some officer who'll either hang you out of hand or +pack you off home again, papers or no papers. +You look too much the British farmer to be quite +unnoticeable in this dear country. Isn't there a +grand smell of beer in this ruin? There's not a +drop left though. I've looked." +</p> + +<p> +"I came to meet a party here, sir, a Belgian +named Mumm. Have you seen him by any chance?" +</p> + +<p> +"If he was a littlish fellow with a pale face, +and hump shoulders, and a club foot, who carried +an infernal machine with a handle to it, I did. +Lord, I do itch. Haven't got any insect powder by +any chance, have you?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm travelling light at present. +It was Mumm you saw. Did he leave any message?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, as you seem to be the nobleman he expected, +you may as well have it. He returns anon. +I'm not much good at Chochtaw, but as far as I +could gather from his rapid conversation, he's +gone to fetch his wife and bring her back here." +</p> + +<p> +"James!" said Kettle nervously. "His wife! +I didn't know he had one. I don't like this." +</p> + +<p> +"Cheer up," said the subaltern, cocking his head +and admiring his map work, "and don't fear the +worst. You haven't seen the lady yet. She may +even be good-looking. You can never tell what +will marry which. During your recent stroll +through that barbed wire in front, did you happen +to notice what gauge it was, or must I go out and +see?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid I don't carry an accurate wire gauge +in my eye, sir. But I've got an errand out there +as soon as I've found something to drink, and I'll +bring you back a sample." +</p> + +<p> +"If you don't look out," said the staff officer +thoughtfully, "your promising young career will +be cut short if you go gadding about in this health +resort. Have you been hit already by any chance? +I noticed you limped when you came in." +</p> + +<p> +"That was on account of my wooden leg, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, sorry. Didn't know I was dipping into +domestic secrets. If you want a drink, there's +my flask. It's filthy, but it's wet. It's made of +some patent tabloids that my favourite aunt sends +me, and is guaranteed, I believe, to keep off malarial +fever, ingrowing toe-nails, and that tired feeling. +Here, I say, I offered you a swig. I didn't ask +you to walk off with the bally flask." +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle worked his way back to the +wounded man with so much care that he was only +shot at once. Night was closing down, lurid with +afterglow, icy with wind from the North and East. +</p> + +<p> +Guns growled in a distant ring. Bullets from +nowhere spat and whinnied, and occasionally one +which had achieved a ricochet went past with a +<i>whoop, whoop, whishy</i>! Into the No-man's-land +where the morning's action had taken place, two +armies shot with indiscriminate hate. +</p> + +<p> +The sailor found his man, and handed the flask. +He had to put his arm behind the man's shoulder +and lift him before he could drink. +</p> + +<p> +"I say, squire, that's awfully good of you. Rum +tipple, too, but I suppose my taste's out of order. +I've had a pretty thick day ... and now I'm +going to see the chap who does sentry-go ... in +the Place Beyond. And that isn't a joke, because +... there ... He is." +</p> + +<p> +He pulled himself half erect with a grinding jerk, +and brought his hand up to the salute, and answered +an unseen inquisitor. +</p> + +<p> +"One of the English, Sir.... A bad record +perhaps.... But—I tried to do my job." +</p> + +<p> +Then he dropped back and slowly stiffened, and +Captain Kettle took off his hat. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +In the meanwhile Monsieur Joseph Mumm of +Louvain was having trouble with his wife. Madame +Joseph, who always prided herself on being <i>bien +chaussée</i>, flatly declined to run. Indeed in her +absurd high-heeled shoes running was an impossibility, +but she had not the honesty to admit this. +She said running was undignified, and Joseph +should have told her earlier that the unspeakable +Bosches were so near, and that he had mismanaged +things as usual, and how she could have brought +herself to marry such a man was more than she +could then imagine. +</p> + +<p> +Joseph, however, loved her, and refused to be +ruffled. +</p> + +<p> +They came at last to the battered brewery, +and were welcomed by the war-worn subaltern. +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo, Joseph," said the subaltern in his best +English, "so here you are again as bright and +bonny as ever, and no holes in you? And this is +Madame? I told our friend, the agriculturist, +she'd turn out to be a beauty." +</p> + +<p> +"No spik Englisch." +</p> + +<p> +"I know you don't, my tulip, or I wouldn't be so +free with my compliments. Curse this pipe! Now +I wish you'd either skin out of here or get to cover. +Savvy? <i>Lyo doggo</i>! Or else some energetic Bosch +gunner will spot us, and turn on the frightfulness, +and that always makes me nervous. Madame, +I'm sure you have your reasons for strafering +Joseph, and giving me the glad eye. But I've a +girl of my own at home, and another out here, and +I can't be true to a third. It's beginning to look as +if our friend the nobleman who stole my flask isn't +coming back. You never can bet on your life +insurance in these stirring times. But if he does, +you turn your eyes on to him. He's the little +man for the ladies, I bet a pot of jam. And by the +Lord, here he is, and none the worse." +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle took off his hat with stiffness +and looked annoyed. +</p> + +<p> +"Cheer up, Sir Owen," said the subaltern +pleasantly. "Belgium mourns, but Madame's got +a smile left, and I told her not to waste them on +me. She was to save all up for you." +</p> + +<p> +"I'd wring your neck for twopence," Kettle snapped. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think you could," said the subaltern +with a sigh. "Many heroes have tried—and alas, +failed. It was owing to their failures that the +Cambridge Rugger Captain, a man I disliked, +was compelled to give me my blue as a forward. +Here! Get to ground quick. Shell coming." +</p> + +<p> +Thereafter for the space of forty-five minutes +high explosive shells sang through the night and +smashed the remains of the brewery to dust, and +exploding shrapnel spat over it spitefully. Captain +Kettle coughed when lyddite vapour mixed itself +with his cigar smoke, and talked rabbit shooting +with the subaltern. Madame Joseph ogled Kettle. +And poor Joseph winced at each shock of the exploding +shells, and screamed at the louder ones. He +was not cast in a heroic mould. And he loathed +himself for appearing as a poltroon under the eyes +of his wife, whom he loved. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose by the way," said the subaltern, +"you didn't come out here for the mere sport of the +thing and to take photographs?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir," said the little sailor. "I've a contract +on to find Belgian mechanics, and ship them out +of the country, to make shells in a works at home. +The men I was after lived in that little town where +you were scrapping this morning and I couldn't +find any of them left. Mr. Mumm's cinematographing +scheme was, so to say, a by-product. I've +always had my knife into the German Emperor +ever since that telegram he sent about Dr. Jameson, +the interfering swine. And I'd a notion Mr. Mumm +could find me mechanics, though I had only his +word for it. Hullo the shelling's stopped." +</p> + +<p> +"Then I'll give up whistling, 'Wait till the clouds +roll by, mother,' and toddle off home. I'd ask +you to our mess, Sir Owen, but if our Old Man +spotted you it would be home, sweet home, for yours +by the next train. However, I dare say we shall +meet in England sometime. So long." +</p> + +<p> +"A pleasant young man that," mused the sailor. +"I wonder what his name was." And then he +turned to disentangle the hands of Madame Joseph, +which had clasped themselves affectionately on his +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"It makes dark, now," she whispered, "and +Joseph does not count. You will protect me? +You are a man." +</p> + +<p> +"A married man, Madame, and don't you ever +forget it. Take Joseph's arm, please, and we will +go to the village over to the sou' west there, and +see if we can't find a <i>café</i> that serves dinner. Joseph, +I want you to remember that I give you twenty-five +francs a head for all Belgian fitters and turners you +introduce me to that will come over to England +and earn big wages making shells." +</p> + +<p> +"I know twenty," said Joseph eagerly. "Give +me twenty francs each, and they are yours." +</p> + +<p> +"Twenty-five I said, and I pay when the goods +are delivered—and shipped—and not before. But +if a twenty-franc note on account will ease the +situation, it is yours." +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur," said Joseph Mumm ecstatically, +and Captain Kettle, very much to his disgust, +found himself kissed. "Monsieur, till now I have +never met you. I salute you as the saviour of +Madame." +</p> + +<p> +"Better take two twenties whilst you are about +it," said Kettle, edging away. "No, Madame, +Madame, I say no. You need not thank me in the +least. It is an entirely business proposition, as +you will understand when I tell you there is an +English M.P. at the back of it." +</p> + +<p> +Madame replied with a gesture. "You give +money to that? <i>Pzzt!</i> He will merely spend it +on drugs, and me, I shall trudge as usual. For me +is there now ever a taxi-automobile? <i>Pas!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +Later in the evening, in a dishevelled town just +outside the German lines, Kettle saw the truth +of this charge. Joseph bought drugs, small white +tabloids of unknown composition, made solution, +inhaled this into a tarnished syringe, and made +injection into a lean and spotted forearm. Till +then he had been a worm, though always (be it +understood) the devout lover of Madame. But +with the drug in his veins he was the hero of chivalric +times, Madame's adorer, and her very sure guard. +And the odd thing (to Kettle's mind) was that +Madame seemed to prefer him in this exalted +state. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +But all this, as Captain Kettle kept on reminding +himself, was not business. He had come out to +Belgium for skilled mechanics, having promised +Mr. Martin Carnforth, M.P., that if such still remained +alive he would bring them back with him to England, +if necessary by the hair of their heads, and +in spite of the Kaiser William's teeth. And so +far he had shipped but three, and doubted if they +would arrive. +</p> + +<p> +"Munitions," Carnforth, M.P., had said, "munitions, +chiefly in the way of shells, are what we want, +and when you hear my fellow-politicians bellowing +that we have plenty, don't you believe them. They +are merely trying to hide their own inefficiency +and keep their own salaries going. I've got an +empty bay at my Works, and a lot of lathes, but the +British mechanic is either not to be got or too big +for his boots when you've found him. The decent +ones are all gone to the war, and I've no use for the +wasters who might offer. But if you can find me +Belgians who both can work and will work, I will +put them in the way of earning five pounds a week +per head." +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle carried with him as personal +luggage a parcel of circulars setting forth in two +foreign tongues the more attractive of these points, +and had distributed them lavishly under the muzzles +of German rifles, but so far mainly with poor results. +The Belgian mechanic was not at the moment +receptive of new ideas, as was perhaps natural. +Conceive the British mechanic, with Germans +in Britain, asked by some alien whom he understood +imperfectly, to go overseas to a land where the +working man eats horse for preference. One can +understand the Belgian reluctance. +</p> + +<p> +But with a brain brightened by his drug, Monsieur +Joseph Mumm developed unexpected powers. He +teemed with suggestions, and as they sat at dinner +hissed them out in true conspirator's style. Most +of them were unpractical, many were fantastic, but +some had glimmerings of sense. +</p> + +<p> +"Do not heed him," said Madame. "He does +not know about these mechanics. He is a +professional man, my husband, though for the moment +he has a pretty wit. <i>Pas?</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't run him down, ma'am. He's some +remarkable sound ideas, but I wish he'd speak +French or English or one of God's languages instead +of switching off into Walloon, or Flemish, or German, +or whatever it is. Look here, Joseph, you say these +engineers have their Lodge. What do you mean? +Masonic?" +</p> + +<p> +Again came the whirl of words. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, call it Guild, or Trades Union, or something +like that. Where is it, and have you the +pass-word? Be quick. By the sound of the firing +the Germans will be here by morning." +</p> + +<p> +Joseph at that moment of exaltation had +everything—certainly such a trifle as entrance to a guild +of base mechanics. When could they go? This +moment or sooner. He leaped up and fled into +the night, and Kettle, after bows to Madame, +limped after him. +</p> + +<p> +In due time they came to the secret place of assembly, +which, after all, had little of secrecy about it. +The mechanics of the little business town met in a +cellar amongst wine casks. They stood about on a +blue floor, and gesticulated in an atmosphere rich +with tannins and ethers. It was rather a jarring +change from the mingled smell of wood-smoke and +garlic Captain Kettle had left at the restaurant, +and he lit a damp, black Canary cigar to counter-balance +it, whilst Joseph Mumm with much florid +phrase explained him. +</p> + +<p> +And then came interruptions. From the street +above and without there came the clattering of +iron-shod hoofs, the crackle of shots, the shrill +screams of hurt men, and now and again the more +dreadful shriek from a woman or child. +</p> + +<p> +One of the men peeped from the head of the +stairway and came back with a scared face. +"Uhlans!" said he. "The rest of the Bosches will +follow. Our troops must have fallen back. They +always do fall back." +</p> + +<p> +"If you ducks had accepted my offer to go to +England," Captain Kettle told them, "instead of +wearing yourselves out with oratory, we might +have been well on the way out of this by now. +As it is, the best thing to do for the moment is to +shut that door and sit tight. Those parties on +horse-back are out to murder somebody, and with +them it's first come first killed. I don't want you to +be too pushing. You can be useful." +</p> + +<p> +The men listened and shivered. They were +mechanics, not fighters, and this truculent little +Islander evidently knew what he was talking about. +He looked a fighter, every inch of him, and if he +advised caution there was evidently some reason +for it. +</p> + +<p> +"But you," said Kettle, turning to Joseph, +"you had better slip out and look after your wife." +</p> + +<p> +Joseph shivered. The drug had died out in him +and he was no longer the hero. He had a headache, +he was shaken, he was unashamedly afraid. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, well, just as you like," said the sailor +with contempt. "I'd go myself if I was free. +But I'm under orders now, and my owner comes +first. I've got to get these mechanics shipped +across to a town in the Midlands, and with the +beastly Germans buzzing about one's ears it's going +to be a tougher job than I reckoned on. Your friends +here have the nerves of sheep." +</p> + +<p> +The mechanics, with the horrors of the neighbouring +Belgian towns fresh upon them, were hard to +move. Their country had been crushed with Satanic +efficiency. Terror stalked through it raw-headed. +They had not read the details in the columns of a +censored newspaper. The full beastly story had +been chattered out to them by wild-eyed, shivering +survivors. Small wonder they were cowed. +</p> + +<p> +Most had others besides themselves to think +about—wives, mothers, daughters—and the Huns +were raging through the town and carrying out +their full programme of frightfulness whilst they, +able-bodied men though they were, cowered in the +wine merchant's cellar, impotent to help or resist. +</p> + +<p> +"To hear you ducks talk," said Captain Kettle +disgustedly, "one would believe you don't want +to do anything, or say anything, or think anything +that'll hurt the Emperor of Germany's feelings. +Now, I'd cheerfully give my wooden leg +just for the luxury of having him here in this room +for two minutes so that I might pull his nose. +And it is an American limb that cost, with spares, +£30. Great James! Have none of you got a tail +to wag? The Germans are playing Hell's delight +with your women and kids this minute, and the +most you can say is 'So mote it be.' Can't some +of you do a bit of killing in your turn? Get out +of here. Be dangerous. Go for every German +you see with your finger-nails and your teeth if +you've nothing better, and you'll find the German +will run. Then gather your women and come back +here. I'll do the rest." +</p> + +<p> +"What, you'll take our wives too? You never +said that before." +</p> + +<p> +"Then, by James! I say it now. Now then, out +with you! All that are back here with their +women in two hours' time I will take out of this +filthy Belgium to a place where the Huns can't +get." +</p> + +<p> +The mechanics sullenly shouldered their way out +through the cellar door with Kettle's tongue lashing +them from behind, and then from the darkness of a +distant corner came the frightened moan of +M. Joseph Mumm. +</p> + +<p> +The little mariner stalked across, put fingers on +the humpback's collar, and shook him. "If you +think a kicking will do you good, just mention it." +</p> + +<p> +"Give me a little money. I must have money. +It is to buy film with. You said you wanted +cinematograph pictures and I cannot take them +without film, negative film, you understand, and +that will cost money. Please——" +</p> + +<p> +"Shut up! You're after drugs again, and you've +a skinful of those already. Now clear out of this +one-time, and go and hunt up your wife. I'll +come with you till you find her, in case you forget +between now and then what your errand is—you +miserable bag of shivers!" +</p> + +<p> +Out into the street they went, lit now by burning +houses, and horrid with the noises of a sack. +</p> + +<p> +"My God! we shall be seen in all this glare," +said poor Joseph. +</p> + +<p> +"Then put back your shoulders and walk as if +you owned the town. These devils won't touch a +man with a stiff upper lip if they can find another +with his knees twittering." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Dieu de Dieu!</i> but hear the screams!" +</p> + +<p> +"There are too many screams for my taste," +said the sailor acidly. "Your friends are dying +like sheep, Joseph, when if they'd the sense they +might die like dogs, and pull some of these other +dogs down with them. If you'll take the tip from +me, you'll get your teeth picked clean and ready +for biting. Where did you say Mrs. Joseph was?" +</p> + +<p> +"At the <i>café</i> where we dined." +</p> + +<p> +"Then go along and collect her, and bring her +to the Lodge. I'd better not come with you as I +expect I look a bit English, and might bring down +attention. But I will hang about, board and board, +in the offing, and bear a hand if you look like needing +one. Mind your head!" +</p> + +<p> +A German soldier, red with recent murder, +and with blood-lust glaring from his eyes, ran at +them from a doorway. Joseph Mumm covered +his face, moaned, and cowered up against the wall. +Captain Kettle attracted the man's charge with a +yell, then dodged, and tripped him as he passed. +Thereafter he jumped upon the man's back, and +dirked him heartily with his own bayonet.... +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Joseph Mumm found himself shaken viciously +by a fierce-faced man with a red torpedo beard, in +pickle-haube and long grey-green overcoat. "By +James! Do you dare to make me give an order +twice? I told you to be off and collect your wife. +Go! D'ye hear me! Go, you swine!" +</p> + +<p> +The humpback hobbled off, and Kettle with +Mauser at the trail, followed at a discreet distance. +Around them the sack continued, and horror +abounded. Another soldier danced up drunk, +with rifle slung over his shoulder, and cigar boxes +in his arms. All the boxes except two he dropped +to the cobbles, and then opening those he had left, +he solemnly emptied the tobacco rolls over Captain +Kettle's helmet. +</p> + +<p> +Now the little sailor, as has been shown in these +memoirs, was the last person in the world to take +liberties with, and that German soldier had a +narrower escape from being smitten violently with a +Mauser butt than he probably suspects to this +day. But it flashed upon Captain Kettle that +here was a certificate for his disguise; the German +had taken him for another German; and, in view +of what was to come, this perfect make-up was +necessary. But at the same time, as head of the +Wharfedale Particular Methodists, he felt very +keenly the degradation of being an actor. He +followed after M. Mumm, telling himself that +bundle of terror little knew what insults his protector +was forced to put up with. +</p> + +<p> +Joseph Mumm tottered in between the gaily lit +green-painted tubs of shrubs which advertised +the front of the <i>café</i>, at a point where two streams +of German officers made ingress and egress. +Captain Sir Owen Kettle, with a start, remembered +that a German private should never breathe the +air hallowed by his officer, and (using his +new-found caution) cut into a side street, and worked +his way round to the back of the <i>café</i>, where he +remembered a side window. +</p> + +<p> +But when he put his face to the pane and peered +round the side of the blind, the scene dished up +through that narrow slit staggered even his steel +nerve. The place was full of German officers, +many of them roaring with drink. One, in a chair, +struck with spurred heels at a piano's keyboard; +two for a bet were shooting at the bottles in the +bar with other bottles; Belgian corpses lay on the +floor, and the men of Kultur kicked them as they +passed; Belgian women were there being vilely +ill-treated; a stout, struggling priest, held between four +officers, was having his bare feet grilled at a stove. +</p> + +<p> +At one side of the ruined <i>café</i> lay Madame Mumm, +dead.... There was no doubt as to how she had +died.... Facing a group of three of the soberer +officers, Joseph, who had loved her, with light laugh +and humorous gesture, was giving information +about the little town. He was making no attempt +to avenge his wife. He was merely being a traitor. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle was a man with a strong stomach, +but he was nearly sick then. "My Great James!" +he muttered. "And they hate the English a +thousand times worse than they hate these poor +ducks. I suppose we've Josephs at home, too. +What would the swine do if they got to England? +There's only one way of taming them now, and +that's by killing them off. Well, I have no time +for frills like cleaning up Germany just now. I +must get back to my job." +</p> + +<p> +Now, Kettle was under no illusions about the +capabilities of the members of the Mechanics' +Lodge. Turners and fitters they might be; +fighting men they were not; and he had a shrewd idea +that truth and faith were not in them. When he +made his offer to transport them and their women +to British soil, he had a plan already matured in his +mind, but did not tell it, because of a very +reasonable fear of informers. +</p> + +<p> +There was a chemical works near the Lodge-room, +and alongside in the road, awaiting erection, was +a large iron vat, made from a Lancashire boiler +with its flues and tubes removed. The vat was +perched on a broad-wheeled trolley, and had a +manhole at its top, and another, with door lying +near, at its lower edge. Coupled to the fore-end +of the trolley was a lusty traction engine, deserted +certainly, but trickling steam. Here was a car in +which, packed close, he reckoned he could transport +fifty people to the Belgian frontier. +</p> + +<p> +The question of a driver worried him. Amongst +the members of the Mechanics' Lodge the odds were +heavy on finding at least one man who could handle +a road locomotive. But would that man have +nerve? This was an essential qualification. The +drive from the sacked town to the Dutch frontier +was not going to be, he plainly foresaw, a simple +trip to suit a nervous man. At a pinch he could +drive himself, but another man as guard would be +desperately needed, and he had a profound distrust +for these Belgians. The lamentable example of +Joseph Mumm was still hot within him. +</p> + +<p> +At this stage of doubt then he ran into another +German soldier round the corner of a block, who +cursed him in a language which was not German, +and presented a prompt bayonet to hamper his +further advance. +</p> + +<p> +"If it wasn't for that spiked hat," said Kettle +warily, "I should say you were a gentleman I met +not very long ago near a beer-mill." +</p> + +<p> +"By Gad! It's my pal the pig-dealer! D'ye +happen to have matches on you? I found a +feather to clean out my pipe, and now I haven't a +light. I say, worthy knight, do you know you are +on the wrong side of the fence, and are liable to +be hung on sight if the Bosches clap eyes on you? +You really shouldn't do these sort of things at your +time of life." +</p> + +<p> +"Can you drive a traction engine?" +</p> + +<p> +"It's rather changing the subject, but I can. +It happens I'm a sapper, and that was part of my +ABC. Nobody ever recognizes my true worth. +Even the girls I'm engaged to don't appreciate the +treasure they've snapped up. And nobody ever +supplies me with matches. But why a traction +engine, noble stranger? You may want to pull a +travelling circus round this benighted country, with +brass band attachment, but my humble ambition +is to sneak away to my nice wet dug-out as quietly +as possible." +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle's fingers itched. He had a +thousand wishes to catch this big casual youngster +by the collar and shake the foolishness out of him. +But by an effort he restrained himself, and spoke +instead. His tone was acidulated, but his +explanations were clear. +</p> + +<p> +The staff subaltern scratched his head. "Seems +to me, Sir Owen, that if I don't get scuppered over +this little entertainment of yours, it's likely to cost +me my commission. My immediate boss is very +keen on his young men attending to their own +particular jobs, and not getting switched off on to +side tracks. He broke a man only last week for +slipping off for a day's snipe-shooting. What he'd +say if he caught me philandering after the beauty +and fashion of Belgium doesn't bear even thinking +about. Is Madame Joseph one of this troupe, by +any chance, that you're personally conducting?" +</p> + +<p> +In ten words the sailor told of Madame Joseph's +fate and Joseph's treachery. +</p> + +<p> +The tall subaltern blew through his bubbling pipe +and put it in his pocket. "That puts the hat on it. +That decent little woman! I always said those +chaps weren't fit to have commissions. They +aren't gentlemen. They don't know how to behave +like gentlemen, and will never learn. Well, I'll +come in. And is that your traction-engine? She's +number-one top-size. Well, the Lord grant there +are plenty of horse-troughs on the way. With +that grate-area she'll hanker after liquor like the +Bishop of Sodor and Man." +</p> + +<p> +The subaltern tried his water, peered into the +firebox, raked and coaled. Captain Kettle watched +him with an approving eye. +</p> + +<p> +"You seem to know your job." +</p> + +<p> +"I can't help it. They turn us out so perfect +from Woolwich we're almost inhuman. H'm! This +caravan compounds when she gets going, but starts +out on full steam for both cylinders. I wonder +which gadgett.... Yes, sir, I beg pardon?" +</p> + +<p> +"I said how long before you will have enough +head of steam to pull out of here?" +</p> + +<p> +"I must fill my water-tank first at the hydrant +there. Call that eight minutes. You can up-anchor +and off in half-an-hour, if that will do?" +</p> + +<p> +"Right. Don't get killed whilst I'm away." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Now the members of the Mechanics' Lodge were +desperate enough, and had terror put into them, +heart and soul, by the sack of their town, as the +invaders intended. But they nearly drove Captain +Kettle desperate before they could be brought to see +the feasibleness of his plan. They talked, and they +screeched, and they supplicated; they appealed to +heaven, and they openly wept; and their women +did all these things, and more. +</p> + +<p> +At last Kettle got to the far end of both his +politeness and his patience. If he could not quell their +oratory with his tongue, he must try more primitive +means. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he said, when at last he had got them +quiet and had put his crude argument back into +his pocket, "the beginning of discipline is learning +to wait till your betters speak first. I'm sorry +to have to pull a gun before you ladies, but if you'd +known my shooting, you need not have been scared +of being hit. I should have bagged a husband +every shot, and there's none of them would have +been much loss. Now then, stand fast where +you are those that are coming to Holland with me, +and fall out there between those two casks those +who funk it." +</p> + +<p> +Again there was the buzz of talk, and the whirl of +gesticulation; but the compelling voice once more +brought silence: "I give you thirty seconds to +decide." +</p> + +<p> +That seemed to crisp the argument. Four +men—smallish, white-faced men they were—and no +women, separated themselves from the main group, +and stood between the casks. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" said Kettle, "and as soon as we have +got nicely under way you'll go and try to +curry favour by telling. That right, you +others?" +</p> + +<p> +They sent up a yell of assent. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, don't shout it. You're so boisterous. +You must tone down before you get to England, +or people will stare at you. I commend to you your +four friends between the claret casks. Take them +with you, and keep them quiet. If they won't +keep quiet, wring their necks. If you fail in that, +remember it is your necks that will pay. Now +then, move ahead to the chemical works, and if +any one makes so much as a whimper, recollect I +will deal with him." +</p> + +<p> +The loading took time. There was only the one +manhole available as entrance-way to the boiler's +dismantled interior, and for some of the ladies it +was a tight fit. However, pressure, moral and +physical, helped things along, and when all were +inboard, Captain Kettle and the staff subaltern left +them to sort themselves, and lifted the heavy iron +manhole door into place and nutted it home. +</p> + +<p> +"That," said Kettle, "will keep the Bosches +out and our beauties in." +</p> + +<p> +"Lord! won't they be fruity inside? May I +go ahead now? By the way my boiler's blowing +off, I'm afraid she's getting so full of steam she +may want to leave us for a home in the sky. The +old bird's got a whacking big grate-area." +</p> + +<p> +The traction-engine tugged at its spring draw-bar, +and, with the big boiler on its broad-wheeled +trolley rattling behind, roared out northwards over +the cobbles. +</p> + +<p> +Uhlans galloped past them with questing lances; +a burning house dropped flakes of fire on them as +they lumbered past; and cordon after cordon of +blood-lusting soldiery, driving the people of the +suburbs into the central slaughter-ground of the +market-place, opened out and let them pass. +</p> + +<p> +A motor-car would have been stopped, a horsed +vehicle would have had no chance of passage, but +who was going to interfere with a traction-engine +driven by two German soldiers, with a huge, empty +boiler clamouring behind its noisy heels at exorbitant +speed? +</p> + +<p> +There were no instructions for such an apparition +as this, and, anyway, it was making such an infernal +din that no one could make its custodians hear. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle reached over and bawled in his +companion's ear: "You'll have the whole concern +tumbling to bits if you push on at this pace." +</p> + +<p> +"Probably. But Lord, man, can't I drive?" +</p> + +<p> +The German Army is organized down to the +last decimal. The German troops they met solemnly +goose-stepping towards France would have known +how to deal with foot, horse, or guns, with spies in +every shape, with an invasion of aeroplanes, howitzer +shells, or Senegambian sharpshooters. But Potsdam +had not contemplated Belgian civilians leaving +their country in a boiler, and had made no provision +for the case. To the troops no Belgians showed +through the boiler's skin, and the traction engine +drivers (in German uniform) were evidently and +unashamedly in a desperate hurry. Here, the +troops thought, was obviously a sudden order of the +Most Highest. +</p> + +<p> +Only one attempt was made to stop its triumphant +retreat, and that was on the Belgian side of the +Dutch border. Men spread out, calling and +bellowing. A gate was slammed and shut. A trumpet +squealed, and a troop of horse answered it. But +the car of Juggernaut was not a thing to stop. +Juggernaut splashed aside the horse, and sailed +through the gate, and chain, and men, and everything +else that stood in its clanking path, and from +its head there gushed a sudden efflorescence of +gesticulating Belgian men and shrilling Belgian +dames, who called down curses on the invaders of +the land they had left behind. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I wish you joy of your pals," said the +subaltern, slowing up by the Dutch Customs House. +"I bet I've burned out this boiler. The old dear +hasn't shown water in her gauge for a good +half-hour.... Yes? Oh, no, Mr. Douanier, I am +not the skipper, nor, thank the Lord, am I German. +My friend here is in command, and will pay your +import duty. He isn't a German either, although +he looks it. He's a Britisher, too, and he's a +pig-dealer of high descent when he's at home." +</p> + +<p> +But here, of all ludicrous places, a hitch occurred. +Certainly there was a tariff for importing "one +traction engine (damaged) and one Lancashire +boiler (dismantled)" into Holland, but the goods +were so unusual that the official in charge regretted +that he would have to apply to headquarters for +instructions. Presumably, he did so apply, but +the Dutchman is not swift to move, especially if +there is no money to give him impetus. So Kettle +by means of a shipping agent got his Belgian +mechanics and their womenkind started off <i>en +route</i> for Mr. Carnforth's Works in the Midlands, +and smoked Dutch cigars to the accompaniment of +the subaltern's unclean pipe at a spruce little tavern +just inside the border. Between whiles they passed +the time of day with the Germans, who were mending +the smashed Belgian gate on the other side of +the frontier line beside their white-walled Custom +House. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Then came the film. It was handed in mysteriously, +and Kettle often wondered afterwards whether +Joseph was not his own messenger. But the little +humpback never appeared. The subaltern with +the unclean pipe—whose name he never +learned—was the man who found out its points. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle, as became the founder of the +Wharfedale Particular Methodists, made a point +of never entering a theatre, and included picture +halls under this ban. The subaltern was an expert +in both. The subaltern also, as became a British +officer and a sapper, knew how to procure a cinematograph +projector, with narrow-angle lens for a long +throw, and how to secure light, and how to work +it. He did all these things that same night after +dinner, setting up his machine on the Dutch side +of the border, wiring his arc-lamp from the tavern, +and using the white-plastered wall of the Belgian +Customs House over the frontier as screen. Dutchmen +and Germans formed the audience. +</p> + +<p> +The film sounds flat in scenario form after the +real thing. You must go and see it for yourself. +</p> + +<p> +It starts with the exterior of the <i>café</i> before and +after the sack. (Joseph must have cut out the first +of these from an old negative taken in happier +days.) Then an interior (badly lit) showing German +officers prone in all directions. A title explains +that they were "<i>Drugged ready to receive punishment.</i>" +</p> + +<p> +Then there is a pretty forest glade into which +Madame Mumm presently "fades in." She is dead, +and laid out reverently. Then by a simple +"stop-film" trick, German officers appear one by one +against each of the trees that surround the little +clearing. +</p> + +<p> +They are all free of their drug now, and very +much alive, but their feet are tied together and their +hands are tied behind them. Then nooses are +placed round their necks and over boughs of the +overhanging trees, and one by one they are hauled up. +</p> + +<p> +The film gives the fullest details, as you will agree +when you see it. There are twenty-three German +officers, and they all hang and kick their last on +twenty-three trees, with the body of poor Madame +lying peacefully in the middle of them. Then by +another simple camera trick the woman's body +fades out, and the men's are left hanging. That is +the end. +</p> + +<p> +"My Great James!" said Kettle when the white +wall of the Belgian Customs House flicked back +into darkness, "do you suppose Joseph did all +that?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid he did. The camera can lie to a +certain extent, but not about all those essentials. +How did he get those chaps unconscious? Was he +a bit of a chemist by any chance? Oh, of course, +I remember. He drugged himself, didn't he, poor +little chap?" +</p> + +<p> +"He did." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, that film's too melodramatic for our taste, +of course, but we must carry in mind he was awfully +fond of that pretty wife of his." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir, he was. And he was not the coward +I thought him. I apologize to Joseph. He was +not a fighting man, and he had to take the only +course that was open. The beasts had got his girl, +and he had to get level, as any man that was worth +calling a man would do. I don't like his method—it's +too Belgian for me—but he got level all right, +and that was the main thing so far as Joseph was +concerned." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> + +<h2> +X +<br><br> +THAT RHINE TOUR +</h2> + +<p> +"Dear sir," wrote Captain Kettle. +</p> + +<p> +"Have managed to get hold of Zeppelin, +the Germans who manned her objecting. +Am at present at that place where you said you shot a +right and left of woodcock, and didn't, the second +bird being mine, though I said nothing at the time. +I mention the spot that way in case this letter falls +into wrong hands. Please join at once, and bring with +you (as quiet as possible) things as per enclosed +list. +</p> + +<p> +"The grub we can do without if needful, and if +you can't arrange the plant for making gas, we can +help ourselves to that from a gasworks somewhere. +But as much petrol as your two big cars can stagger +under is an absolute necessity. And without the +dynamite, or something like it, we shall be a damp +squib. +</p> + +<p> +"You must be here on the job before daybreak, +which will be at 6.30 at latest, or I must sail without +you, and trust to picking up supplies and a +shipmate elsewhere. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + "Yours truly,<br> + "O. KETTLE (Master)." +</p> + +<p> +"P.S.—She is going to be a beast to navigate." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"Um," said Mr. Martin Carnforth, M.P. "Who +brought this?" +</p> + +<p> +"Young person on a motor-cycle, sir." The +butler's wooden features relaxed into a moment's +smile, and then froze again. "Said the name was +Brown, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, take the man to the kitchen and give +him a drink." +</p> + +<p> +"Beg pardon, sir, the young person insisted +on the name of Doctor Brown, and was +a—er—young person, sir, not a man." +</p> + +<p> +"I wish to heaven you would speak English, +Booker. Do you mean the messenger is a +woman?" +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose she is, sir, though her clothes, +especially the lower——" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, put her in the drawing-room, and give +her some tea, and—er—-buns, and chocolates, +and things. And light a fire. And if she looks +that sort give her some cigarettes. Egyptians +they usually like." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir. Certainly, sir. I did take the liberty +of offering her a whisky-and-soda, sir, when she +arrived." +</p> + +<p> +"With the result, I suppose, that she snapped +your head off for your impudence." +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir. Seemed flattered, sir, although she +didn't want one just then," said the butler as he +made his exit. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall surprise Booker by kicking him one +of these days," Carnforth said to himself as he +watched the door shut behind his ancient retainer. +"And now for our small mariner's list of sea stores. +Gee-Wilikins! He must think I'm Harrod and the +Army and Navy Stores rolled into one Siamese +twin. Well, the telephone and a reliable secretary +are sound things." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Martin Carnforth, M.P., was a man of decision. +He knew what he wanted, where to get it, and +how to get it quickly, and (being shrewd and +businesslike) acted on this knowledge with small delay. +Then at the call of a gong he dressed, and dined +thoughtfully and well. He had been out with +Captain Kettle on the warpath before, and knew +that small sailorman would dine comfortably if +dinner was before him, and if it was not, would, +apparently with equal pleasure, fast for forty hours +on end. Mr. Carnforth, though tough and wiry, +was a man of full habit, and liked to meet his meals +at their usual fixed intervals. +</p> + +<p> +Half-way through dinner he remembered Dr. Brown. +"Has that messenger gone yet, Booker?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir. In the drawing-room." +</p> + +<p> +"H'm, well, it's rather dull dining alone. No, +don't you go, Booker. I'll go and see what she's +like myself." And a half-minute later he was +saying, "I'm amazingly sorry I didn't know you +were still here. Please come in to dinner at once. +Booker! Bring back the soup." +</p> + +<p> +Now I think it was Dr. Mary Brown's voluminous +black leather breeches and neat boots and gaiters +which got her that very prompt invitation in the +first instance, and it was a handy way she had with +her eye that warmed up early acquaintance into a +pretty warm flirtation before the end of dinner. +Carnforth was once pithily described as "a bit of a +warrior." Dr. Brown had of late decided that the +way to get the most out of life was not to be too +prim. I am not going to give away her age, but +she had a tidy handful of experience behind her. +She had tried philanthropy, dancing, religion, and +medicine, and found them all very well as hobbies, +but had tired of each in turn. Now she was seeing +life as a Lady Motor Scout, and a swashbuckling +air was necessary for local colour. +</p> + +<p> +"Have another walnut," said Carnforth, as +they sat over their dessert. "I shall call you +'cork' directly." +</p> + +<p> +"'Cork,' why?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because you are stopping the bottle. No, my +good girl, help yourself first. Well, if you won't, +I'll do my best. It's '70, and we aren't going to +leave the bottle with one of Kettle's little games to +go through on ahead. Ahead of me that is. I +shall have to clear out in half an hour, I'm sorry to +say, my dear. My housekeeper will bed you down +here for the night, and see you have shaving tackle +and all that." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, but I'm coming too." +</p> + +<p> +"I bet a trifle Kettle didn't ask you. Cuddlesome +little way with him, hasn't he, when he doesn't +want anybody?" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't be horrid. He's rather a dear, though, +isn't he?" +</p> + +<p> +"Now, you're trying to make me jealous. Have +some cognac with your coffee if you won't drink +any more port, and no—Booker, I particularly +told you Dr. Brown always smokes Egyptian +cigarettes. Apologize, my dear, for my bachelor +ways, but I hate the beastly things myself. And I +don't smoke cigars with '70 port. Heigh-ho, +<i>Ge-wine</i>, <i>ge-women</i>, and <i>ge-song</i>, as they say in +Lord What's-his-name's spiritual home, are great +things, my dear, aren't they, and I always think +when I go off cruising with Kettle that my bright +young career will be cut off short with suddenness. +That's why I am dining decently before starting +out to-night. It's a pity to leave a bottle more of +the '70 than's necessary to my young fool of a +nephew." +</p> + +<p> +"You will smuggle me on board, won't you?" +said Dr. Brown, moving her chair up closer. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm a bit deaf. What was that? Here, +come and sit on my knee, and then you needn't +bawl at me." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I can make you hear all right. You'll +manage to get me on board, won't you, old thing? +If it hadn't been for me you would never have heard +of the affair at all." +</p> + +<p> +"By Jove, you have ripping eyes, m'dear, when +you look at a man like that. You'd better keep +out of Lady Kettle's way, or she'll be reading the +riot act." +</p> + +<p> +"Then you promise?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Lord, I'll promise anything. Look out. +Here's Booker." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +It was a slightly embarrassed Martin Carnforth +that walked up, motor head-lamp in hand, to +Captain Kettle's rendezvous. The huge dark airship, +swinging to her rock moorings, twittered to the +breeze overhead, and the little sailor, with cigar +cocked to an acute angle, lay smoking on a bank +of heather. He dandled a 12-bore handily across +his knees. And the cock of his red torpedo beard +was full of truculent satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, did you shoot the whole of the crew +of your Zep?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir, only a brace of them. The rest +concluded they would do as they were told, so I put +them in gaol before they could change their minds. +It doesn't do to trust Germans an inch these days, +Mr. Carnforth." +</p> + +<p> +"It never did. But where did you find a gaol +up here on the moor?" +</p> + +<p> +"There's an old adit close by, sir, for some of +the lead workings, though it's too dark for you to +see it now. I drove them into that, and then blew +down the entrance. They'd some handy little bombs +for killing babies with in their after car, and I +used one of those. I had to set the fuse by guess, +but it went off all right, and nobody was hurt. +At least I wasn't." +</p> + +<p> +"H'm. And so I suppose they starve or suffocate +to death." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh there's a vertical shaft half a mile further +in that leads up to the moor. We'll leave word, if +you like, that they are there, and anybody that +hankers after them can wind them up through that +shaft. But what anyone can want Germans for +these days is beyond me." +</p> + +<p> +"Collectors fancy all sorts of bric-à-brac, even +live Germans. There's quite a cult in some political +circles for collecting live Germans and pampering +them. How did you catch the Zep, by the way? +Had she come down to poach your rabbits? She's +rather out of her latitude up here in the middle of +Yorkshire. There are precious few babes and +women to kill amongst these moors." +</p> + +<p> +"There was a sudden cold snap in the early +morning, sir. My minimum thermometer on the +garden wall showed eighteen degrees of frost, though +when I went to look at it after breakfast to take +the reading, the sun was shining and the air +temperature had gone up to 45 degrees." +</p> + +<p> +"And they wanted to come down to thaw?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir, there was a heavy snow-storm up aloft +there, and the weight of snow forced them down. +This craft here, Mr. Carnforth, is 500 feet long and +40 feet beam, and if you work out what half an inch +of rain-water—turned into snow—means over that +surface, you'll find it figures out at a lot more +weight than she could carry. So they gave up +their job of being frightful over Bradford and +Leeds, and slanted down to earth up here in the +dales, where it is quieter. They were just starting +to scrape off the snow (and making a very poor job +of it) when I came to the top of the scaur there to +look at a weasel trap." +</p> + +<p> +"And the weasel was forgotten, I suppose?" +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Carnforth, with me business comes first, +and pleasure afterwards. I took the weasel—a +fine young dog—-to hang up for my keeper's larder, +and re-set the trap, and then I gave two Dutchmen +who'd forgotten their manners a barrel of number +five apiece at thirty yards. Afterwards I told the +rest to put up their hands." +</p> + +<p> +"And they kindly did it? Tame of them." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid, sir," said Captain Kettle dryly, +"they believed I'd part of the British Army at +my back. It was very foggy, and they didn't seem +accustomed to our moorland." +</p> + +<p> +"Bang goes another ideal! I always looked +upon you as another George Washington." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, sir," said Kettle with a flush, "I try to be +truthful, and if necessary, I would have taken on +the whole thirteen. But I'd got an idea I might +make use of this Zeppelin, and I knew that if we +started scrapping they'd destroy her before I could +get them all comfortably killed off. Anyway, I +didn't tell any lies, if that's what you're meaning. +No, by James! I just sang out in the fog to 'keep +back there out of shot' and hailed down to the +Dutchmen that if they didn't march into that +adit, one-time, I'd mow down the lot of them. I +expect the cold and this moorland country nipped +them. They ran to cover like a push of the old-style +Dutch deck-hands with a brace of mates after +them. Well then, as I say, sir, I fastened them up +and went back to breakfast. Lady Kettle never +likes me to be late." +</p> + +<p> +"I admire your taste in messengers," said +Carnforth with a grin. "You seem to have +made a great impression on the damsel in +the leather breeks some time during your shady +past." +</p> + +<p> +"My Great James! Has she been talking?" +</p> + +<p> +"Good heavens, man, don't jump down my +throat—or hers—like that. I assure you she's +been most discreet. I wish I'd had your chances +though. With you ahead of me, I don't get a look +in." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know what you're driving at, sir," Kettle +snapped at him acidly. "I did nothing to the +lady I—er—couldn't help." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, that will be quite enough for Lady Kettle +I'm sure when we laugh over the yarn with +her—All right. I'll climb down, Colonel. Don't +shoot." +</p> + +<p> +"Our views about ladies are very different, +sir," said Kettle with much stiffness. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank the Lord, yes. I'm out for fun. You've +Lady Kettle. Now then, business: There's a +five-ton motor lorry load of hydrogen cylinders, +and a quarter of a mile of piping in case we can't +get alongside. There's a ton and a half of petrol +on another lorry. There's a third lorry with a +special line in T.N.T. bombs fitted with the +Carnforth patent vane. I've never contrived to get +our fool air-craft officials to take them up, and +now's the chance to advertise them. That's the +only reason I came. Now what's the scheme? +Are you going to take your Zep down to Hendon +and make a present of her to the British Army? +As you haven't invited the authorities here, I +should say that is the correct procedure." +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle pulled thoughtfully at his red +torpedo beard and stared at Carnforth. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Carnforth pursed his lips and scratched his +chin and stared at Captain Kettle. +</p> + +<p> +Then Carnforth sniggered, and that seemed +to break the spell. "I thought, sir," said Kettle +with some embarrassment, "we might do something +on our own. You see neither Navy nor Army has +any use for us. They say I've a wooden leg, and +they say you're too—er——" +</p> + +<p> +"Tum-tummy." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I believe the brutes would even say +that. So I thought we might put in a little trip +without consulting them. You see, sir, I know +very little of Europe, having spent, as you know, +most of my life at sea. We'd a Preacher who came +to our chapel two Sundays ago and he'd done what +he called 'the Rhine tour.' I didn't think much of +it myself, but he kept dragging his experiences +into his sermon, and the congregation liked it. It's +rather a slur on me, sir, but I may tell you in +confidence that the collection was thirteen and +two-pence up on my own average. I've got to get level +with that somehow, or the Wharfedale Particular +Methodists will want to know why I am sticking +on at their head. One of our mottoes is, 'By their +deeds ye shall know them.'" +</p> + +<p> +"It's the devil of a position," Carnforth agreed. +"I'm no preacher myself, but as a politician I +agree with you. But I don't quite catch the point." +</p> + +<p> +"Why I was thinking, sir, we might do the +Rhine Tour (just as the tripper people advertise +it) in our own Zep, and empty our ballast on +anything in the shell-manufacturing line as we went +along. Those commercial towns are not mentioned +in the Tourist Guide, but I guess we can spot them. +Our preacher was great on the medieval castles, and +I should scorn to drop bombs on them, because +they will always be of interest to photographers +when Germany's opened up to white men, after +the war. And there's one other thing." +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" +</p> + +<p> +"I know, sir, you laugh at poetry, but our +preacher said the Rhine reeked of it. I tell you, +sir, when he occupied my pulpit, he let off poetry +about the Rhine till I fairly writhed. It was +other people's too, and the swine never owned +up. But let me go there, and pump out some +verse of my own on the spot, and I'll give my +crowd the squirms or know the reason why. Yes, +by James! They'll understand whose congregation +they are by the time I've finished shooting off those +Rhine verses at them, the mutinous dogs." +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Mr. Carnforth, with shame I own it, +but I've been having trouble. Lady Kettle, as +you know, has been filling our pulpit on several +occasions during my absence, and I want to clear +her ticket at once. She dropped the collection, +but she's kept the popularity going strong. It's +me that two of our blighters have got their knife +into. One's a chemist from down the dale (not +rightly in our circle at all) and one's a sheep farmer +from above Arncliffe. They complain I preach +too hot a kind of hell for their complete enjoyment, +feeling, I suppose, they're in for it as residents later. +Well, Mr. Carnforth, let me get that Rhine poetry +straight from the soil, so to speak, to fire out at +them, and they'll swallow any brand of hot place +they're offered. I know the beggars. And now, if +you please, we'll just run through the Zep's engines +and her rising gear. The rest of the gadgetts can +wait till we're under way. But I tell you +beforehand, she's a regular bag of tricks." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Dr. Mary Brown was not discovered till they +had left the gloom of England behind them, and +were heading across a great saucer of the North +Sea. It was Kettle who found her in the after +gondola, plugging her ears against the noise of the +engine exhausts, and Carnforth, when called into +consultation, rather basely disclaimed all +knowledge of her intention to stow away. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Miss," said the little sailor acidly, "you +have forced your way in where you were not invited, +and you'll have to do as you're told, lady or no +lady." +</p> + +<p> +"Call me Doctor, please." +</p> + +<p> +"To start with, I'll not have my ship disgraced +with you in those breeches. Can you make +yourself a skirt, if I give you the material?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can't, and I won't try. You're horrid." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, then, Miss, I will be your dressmaker. +In the meanwhile you'll stay in there with the +lock turned till I'm ready." +</p> + +<p> +But Captain Kettle was not able to commence +dressmaking just then. From somewhere on the +well-watched water below, a seaplane soared and +buzzed towards the huge airship with vicious +intent. She was travelling three miles to the +airship's two, and was ascending rapidly. +</p> + +<p> +The sailor picked up the loud-speaking telephone +and tried to get hold of Carnforth in the engine +gondola, but without result. The roar of the +exhausts hung round them like the noise of a +battle. So he steadied his helm and ran aft down +the central alley-way. +</p> + +<p> +"Give her more speed," he bawled in Carnforth's +ear. "There's an English seaplane after us, and +we'll be bombed if we don't look out, by our own +men. There's no chance of letting him know who +we are with all this row going on, and he's as noisy +as we are." +</p> + +<p> +"You've all the speed I can get," Carnforth +shouted back. "These infernal engines have got a +chill on the gizzard. What does the fool of a 'plane +want to interfere for? Can't he see we're going +towards Germany?" +</p> + +<p> +"There's only one kind of good Zep from his +point of view, sir, and that's a dead Zep. If we +can't run, we must rise." +</p> + +<p> +"I've got the horizontal rudders full on, and +she doesn't answer. Not enough speed." +</p> + +<p> +"Then we must turn the exhaust into the +envelope and warm up the whole outfit. That will +make her rise fast enough." +</p> + +<p> +"It's about ten to one we set her on fire in the +process if we try that. I say, Captain, there's a +damn sight more in Zep-driving than the ordinary +amateur guesses at. Here, that's the cut-out to +this set of engines. You stand by it, and shut when +I wave. I'll shut the cut-out of the port engines. +As soon as you think we're high enough, open them +again, and don't you go on a second longer than's +dead necessary. We're squirting white hot air on +to hydrogen ballonettes, and it's about as safe as +having a firework party in a powder factory. Now +then, hup!" +</p> + +<p> +The din of the exhausts was dulled, and the +huge airship quivered. Then she swelled visibly, +straining at her covering till all wrinkles were lost +in chubbiness. The soaring seaplane seemed to +be dropping like a stone beneath them. The ring +of sea, with its ships and its tiny fret of waves +appeared to be falling away through the bottom of +space. And then they swooped up into a veil of +cloud, dank and icy to the feel, and shutting them +away from all human sight, and spangling them +with instant dewdrops. +</p> + +<p> +"Keep her at that level, sir, for half an hour," +Kettle bawled at his friend's ear, "and I will +change course a dozen points. We'll soon shake +off our navy customer down below if only this cloud +doesn't thin out before we've run our distance." +</p> + +<p> +The little sailor went forward again, and his +engineer, with a minute's rest ahead of him, straightened +his back and interviewed the prisoner through +a port hole. +</p> + +<p> +"I told you you'd catch it," he chuckled. +</p> + +<p> +"Captain Kettle was most insulting." +</p> + +<p> +"He struck me as being icily polite. I knew +he'd never stand those bags." +</p> + +<p> +"I mean he was insulting in persisting in calling +me, Miss, when he knows quite well I'm Doctor." +</p> + +<p> +"So you are, m'dear. I'll lace into him sometime +when we get home, if you like. Of course +you're a doctor. Any one could tell that at once +by your learned frown. Look here, do you mind +tying up my knuckles where I've grazed them?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, are you hurt?" +</p> + +<p> +"Horribly. F-s-s! Go gently, m'dear. Ah, +that's nicer. There, if I squeeze on to your hand +like that, it doesn't ache so much. That bandage +properly sterilized? Here, hold on to it a minute. +My blessed port engine is going on strike again. +Who wouldn't sell a farm and go Zep-driving?" +</p> + +<p> +Now, Captain Sir Owen Kettle, K.C.B., was +beginning to find his navigation in a tangle. At +sea, come fair, come gale, come night, come fog, he +could find his way from port to port with any +expert who did business on the great waters. The +sextant and the log were his cousins; the compass, +with its most erratic variations, was his familiar friend. +</p> + +<p> +But up here in the navigating position of the +Zeppelin he was faced with a score of new problems. +Height, angle of ascension, angle of descent, wind +drift, speed by engine evolution, retardation due +to increase in envelope size, varying air friction, +leeway, were all indicated on dials and recorders in +front of him. He took these as accurate, to start +with, but soon convinced himself that many of them +were recording fiction. +</p> + +<p> +For a while, too, he pinned his faith, mariner-fashion, +on the reliability of the elaborate Thompson +compass. But when, during a passage between two +electricity-discharging clouds this instrument +emulated a windmill in full working activity, he felt +that one of the props had been taken from his +universe. Even his cigar in that rare air burned +abnormally. +</p> + +<p> +Occasionally, very occasionally, he got a glimpse +at the sun, and, comparing this with his watch, +was able to get an approximate bearing. But for +the most part the Zeppelin travelled through a +bank of cloud, though even this, most unfairly (he +felt) was not enough to conceal her. +</p> + +<p> +Those envious dogs, the officers of the British +Navy, who sailed the North Sea below in forty +assorted craft, kept spotting her outline. +</p> + +<p> +They merrily wirelessed to one another, "Mark +Zep over!" and at intervals, as she blundered +down their sentry line, snapped off shrapnel at +her. It was a poor solace to Captain Kettle's +feelings that their shooting was extremely bad. The +hardest trial of all was not being able to bawl back +at them exactly what he thought. +</p> + +<p> +There are, of course, ninety and nine close shaves +for one actual shipwreck, and about these it is one +of the primary rules of shipmasters (as it is of +railway companies and others) to keep the most +profound secrecy. Captain Owen Kettle is, as has +been recorded many times, one of the few really +truthful men now alive, but even he, when +Mr. Carnforth bawled in his ear "Finding your way all +right?" snarled back "Think I don't know my +job?" +</p> + +<p> +"You're making for the Texel, aren't you?" +</p> + +<p> +"As it happens, I am." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course, my dear chap, I don't question +your navigation for one moment, but when the +clouds pulled away for a moment just now, I spotted +one of my own ships heading along the same course +as ourselves." +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, she's off to Norway, that's all." +</p> + +<p> +"By James, sir, are you trying to teach me to +navigate?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not a bit, not a bit. Why should I?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because you know nothing about it. And +I may tell you, sir, that I don't either up here. I +can get neither sights nor soundings, and my compass +is like a tee-to-tum. You might think, Mr. Carnforth, +it is an easy thing to take a departure from +Flamborough Head and hit Europe. Yesterday I +would have said a child could have done it. But +just now I'm free to own there are difficulties. +These auxiliary sky-wind jammers take a bit more +thinking out than the ordinary seafaring man has +any idea of. But don't you get uneasy, sir. You +can carry in mind I've got to do that Rhine Tour, +or the Wharfedale Particular Methodists will take +more handling than I care to talk about." +</p> + +<p> +A minute later Carnforth was telling Dr. Mary +Brown that he had "pulled his Eminence's leg all +right." +</p> + +<p> +"Nasty little wasp," said the lady. +</p> + +<p> +"Not a bit of it. He's the best chap in the +Eastern Hemisphere. But I bet you a bottle of +eau de Cologne, my dear, you can't guess what he's +doing just now." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, writing poetry, I suppose." +</p> + +<p> +"Not he. He's sewing at a skirt for you. It +will be made of canvas. He cut it out with his +pocket-knife on the deckplanks. It's not one of +those nasty skimpy ones, either. There will be +tons of room in it to cover all of you decently." +</p> + +<p> +"You're both of you horrors," said Dr. Mary +Brown. "Oh, there, they're shooting at us again! +Mr. Carnforth, I forbid you to laugh. Do +something! Get it stopped." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Now, ever since the start from that lonely +Yorkshire moorland, the port engine of the Zeppelin +had been giving trouble, and naturally Carnforth +had given it most of his attention. The automatic +adjustment of its carburettors for varying +air-pressures was faulty, its magnetos shorted at every +jolt, its plugs sooted almost as soon as they were +replaced. Its driver was burned, stifled, deafened +by its imbecilities, but nursed it through every +ailment triumphantly. It was the starboard engine +that let them down. Lubrication failed at one of +fifty points; there was a smell of heated steel and +scorching oil; and before Carnforth, frantically +searching, could find the sore, a gear-box bearing +seized, and the whole of the starboard machine +stopped with a squeal and a jar. Incidentally +one huge propeller blade flicked off into space. +</p> + +<p> +"Good afternoon," said Mr. Martin Carnforth, +M.P., as he watched its whirring flight. "I wonder +if the old bus has a big enough helm to keep her +straight against the port engine alone. Hullo, +what's that? Yes. Oh, chasing her tail, is she? +If I slow down more than a few revolutions she'll +stop altogether. Aye aye, sir; stop port engine it +is." +</p> + +<p> +Dusk was falling, and the huge gas-bag drifted +as a helpless derelict at the same pace as the cloud +which surrounded her. "It's beginning to look +a bit sick for your Rhine Tour," Carnforth admitted, +as he rejoined his friend. "I'm a rotten +Zep-driver, and that's a fact." +</p> + +<p> +"You're one engineer, sir, and not six. I'm the +man that's to blame. Here am I, a failure at my +own trade. I aimed at the Texel, and a minute +ago, through a hole in the clouds, I sighted +Heligoland, four points starboard and about ten miles +ahead. By James! Mr. Carnforth, if we could +have kept way on her half an hour more, and +those patent bombs of yours are what you claim, +we could have blown Heligoland into fine spray." +</p> + +<p> +"Shall we miss it now?" +</p> + +<p> +"I make it we've a lee-drift of some twenty-eight +to thirty miles an hour, sir. There's a stiffish +breeze blowing up here, though you can't feel now, +because, of course, we're drifting with it." +</p> + +<p> +"Where will that take us?" +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle picked up a parallel ruler and +laid it on the German chart of the North Sea pinned +to the table in front of him. "Here's where we are +now"—he drew a line with a pencil and stepped +back, pointing. "And that's the course of our +present drift." +</p> + +<p> +"Phew, slap across the Kiel Canal!" +</p> + +<p> +"If the wind doesn't shift, sir. And as that's a +thing over which we have no control, and the starboard +engine's beyond repair, I'll ask you to excuse +me, sir, for the next hour. I've a little writing to +do. I've my head full of some really stirring verse, +and I want to get it on paper before it escapes me." +</p> + +<p> +"Feel you've got your argumentative chemist +and the Littondale sheep farmer fixed, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can see the tears hopping down their whiskers, +sir. If only we'd an accordion on board here, I +could set to music some new poetry that I believe +would surprise even you." +</p> + +<p> +The short wintry day faded out, and, after a +long twilight, night fell, black, and chill, and +starless. Even the high air was not at peace in this +time of universal war. Searchlight beams slashed +it with swift cuts, and the rumbling growl of guns +drifted to it from all quarters and reverberated +amongst the clouds. Dewdrops from the vast +gas-bag overhead dripped on to the roofs of the +gondolas with a noise like falling shot. Twice a +rattle like machine guns from a neighbouring cloud +told that unseeing aeroplanes were doing sentry-go. +In the after gondola Mr. Martin Carnforth watched +Dr. Mary Brown brew tea on an electric heater, +and flirted with her industriously. In the control +station Captain Owen Kettle made poetry which +he felt would shake Upper Wharfedale down to +the very limestone from which it was gouged. +</p> + +<p> +Then land slid into view beneath them, the +German land of Schleswig-Holstein—which is the +basic cause of the present war—and Mr. Martin +Carnforth, M.P., lost his temper and flung a teacup +and its steaming contents at the silent starboard +engine of the Zeppelin. Captain Kettle made no +demonstration. He had an older acquaintance +with Fate and the Winds of Heaven, and knew +that he could change neither of them. He went +steadily on with his literary work. In his mind's +eye he saw the bearded chemist from down the dale +writhing under his next sermon. +</p> + +<p> +"You will let me drop the first bomb on the +Canal, won't you?" Dr. Brown pleaded. "I'm +sorry you spilt your tea. Here's another cup. +I'm a suffragette, you know, and it would be a +splendid thing for me if I could say the Kiel Canal +and the ships in it were blown up by a woman." +</p> + +<p> +Carnforth's laugh was rather startling. But +his words were suave enough, as usual. "You +can drop the whole caboodle as far as I am +concerned, my dear, and if you smash the canal, or +a ship that counts, I'll endow your excellent society +with enough to keep it in chocolates for the next +ten years. But if you watch the ground below there, +you'll see the wind's shifted, and we're drifting +north." +</p> + +<p> +"The horrid Zep's twiddling round so much I +don't know which is north and which is south-east." +</p> + +<p> +"Then don't worry to look, my dear, or you'll +strain your eyes. By Jove, you have pretty eyes, +too, as I believe I've told you before. You'll get +married one of these days, sharp and quick, before +you know what's happened, if you look at people +like that. There, my dear, you sit down in that +corner out of the draught and swig your tea, and +I'll go and have a word with the Admiral." +</p> + +<p> +"The wind," said Captain Kettle, when his +friend joined him, "seems far more flawy up here +than one finds it down on the sea. It's blowing +as fresh as ever, but it changes direction from +minute to minute, as you can see for yourself, sir. +I believe we shall hit that canal yet, though at +present we can't see——" +</p> + +<p> +At that precise moment two sections of cloud +below them slid apart and rolled up with the +quickness of a conjuring trick, and there below them +Schleswig-Holstein lay spread out like a map. +It was striped with railways and glittering with a +great canal. Those lights astern would be Büsum +that the Danes fought so bitterly to hold; there +were Heide's electrics immediately below; and +that great glow ahead on the other side of the canal +must be Neümunster, where they make the cloth +and the beer and the dyewares. +</p> + +<p> +But it was the Kaiser Wilhelm Canal that held +the eye. It was lit like a street with sizzling arcs. +it was busy with a thousand activities. It was not +a mere waterway between towns. It was the main +artery of one colossal city. Launches and passenger +boats did traffic on its surface; the abounding +industries of war hummed on its banks; and in +the sidings, moored fore and aft to the great bollards +on the banks, lay the tragic items of the Second +Largest Fleet in all the World. There were +Dreadnought and super-Dreadnought battleships, huge +Dreadnought cruisers, and swarming torpedo craft +moored there in inglorious safety—all the kinds of +vessels, in fact, that go to make a navy's complement, +except submarines—and, given engine power, +the hovering Zeppelin could have destroyed one +after another as though they had been ships of straw, +so long as her supply of bombs held out. +</p> + +<p> +"Whilst as it is," said Carnforth bitterly, "we +are just as helpless and harmless as a Cabinet Minister +with a mouthful of words. We're running parallel +to the canal at as accurate a half-mile distance as +if we were geared to a rail. A man's cursed Creation +for less." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir," agreed Captain Kettle. "It's annoying. +I've been looking forward to that Rhine Tour more +than I've told you, and I am beginning to fear +the chances for it are fading out." The Zeppelin +gave a sudden jump upwards. "By James! who's +throwing out my ballast? By James! sir, +that infernal Miss Brown has let go one of your +bombs!" +</p> + +<p> +"And it's falling beautifully. Look there! +Straight as a die, now those vanes have got their +grip. Kettle, if I'd the British air-craft +bomb-buyer here, that would be worth a quarter of a +million to me." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Kettle dryly, "no one can say I +ever dodged trouble. The band will begin to play +if that bomb hits anything solid and bursts. I +hope Miss will like the results." +</p> + +<p> +"It's dropping on that patch of green that +looks like marsh. Damn that girl! Why couldn't +she use brains and loose off over something solid? +Glory Alleluia! How's that for a tickle fuse?" +</p> + +<p> +The bomb touched earth, and a volcano spouted. +The eye saw it first as a splendid pyrotechnic +picture. Later came the din of the explosion and +an air-wave that set the Zeppelin a'rock like a +cork in a flooded gutter. And almost as soon +searchlights spat out from all the countryside, +exploring the zenith, and from that down and +round. The first quivered on to the airship and +settled there in twelve seconds from its start, and +ten others promptly followed suit. +</p> + +<p> +The great Zeppelin hung there in the wind, lit +like a stage, with a hundred gun-muzzles swinging +on to her, helpless as Montgolfier's first balloon. +</p> + +<p> +"By James!" said Kettle, "this beats me! +Why don't they fire? Haven't they anti-aircraft +guns?" +</p> + +<p> +"I should say the place was stiff with them. +But apparently the private night signal of the +home-coming Hun is 'Drop one bomb, and then sit +tight and do nothing,' and it's acted. They think +we're their own pals suffering from engine trouble, +and that very nice bomb was dropped by accident, +which happens to be the strict truth. Great +Scott! I wonder how many candle-power of light +they're buzzing at us from that canal?" +</p> + +<p> +"And you believe they're taking us for Germans?'' +</p> + +<p> +"I'm dead sure of it." +</p> + +<p> +"By James, sir, I don't like that! I don't know +whether you, sir," the little sailor added pointedly, +"feel the degradation of it, too?" +</p> + +<p> +"I do—oh, I do! But I'm going to stick it +for the time being all the same. Looking down +the muzzles of all those infernal guns has swamped +all my better feelings. At this rate of drift we +shall be out of range in another ten minutes, and +then I'll be my old brave, bonny self again. Damn +that girl! There! she's dropped another bomb! +Little fool must be as fond of stirring up a wasp's +nest as you are." +</p> + +<p> +In the after-gondola Dr. Mary Brown cowered +on a sofa and tickled delicate machinery with a +neat but shuddering toe. "Oh, why didn't you +come when I called?" she demanded when +Carnforth opened the door. +</p> + +<p> +"Because I didn't hear you, my dear, for one +thing. Have you been calling me? Glad you've +been enjoying yourself, but felt the thing was not +complete without me. What are you playing at now?" +</p> + +<p> +"Trying to prevent more of these beastly things +from slipping down through that hole. Didn't you +hear what a noise the other ones made?" +</p> + +<p> +"I believe I did. Quite a little bang. If it +tickles you to know, I dare say the noise has reached +Berlin by now. There, take away your foot; I +have set the trigger again. What was your nice +little idea in pulling over the release lever?" +</p> + +<p> +"I thought it was the switch for the water-heater +thing we used for the tea." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Martin Carnforth gulped—and then sniggered. +"Well, you've jangled Wilhelm's nerves all right, +and with one of his own dear Zeps, too. The +suffragette papers ought to give you an awfully +fine par about it." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think they really will?" asked Dr. Mary +Brown hopefully. +</p> + +<p> +"Sure of it, if we get home to report same. But +if you're particularly anxious for newspaper glory, +I shouldn't try any more little games. You see, +they are so apt to irritate the Bosches, who've +really got no sense of humour. They are not like +us; they still take their Zeps pretty seriously." +</p> + +<p> +A voice that announced, "Wind's shifting to +the s'uthard," made them both start and move +apart. +</p> + +<p> +"Good Lord!" said Carnforth. "I thought +that was my chaperon come to take me home. +This telephone is one of the loud-speaking sort, +intended to be heard above the din of the +motor-exhausts. Now they're stopped, it's a bit +startling." +</p> + +<p> +"Conscience!" said Dr. Mary Brown archly. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +In the meanwhile the huge, helpless airship +sidled and whirled at the sport of the air-currents +across towards the Baltic. But with the edge of +that sea beginning to gleam beneath her through +the night, she got into another valley of the winds, +and fled away north, down Schleswig-Holstein. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Kettle by this time had grown thoroughly +disgusted with air-travel over which he had so little +control. Moreover, he had found a very efficient +substitute for the actual Rhine Tour of his ambition, +and, as further damage to Germany seemed out of +the question for the moment, he wanted to get +back to Upper Wharfedale for the earliest possible +delivery of his epoch-making sermon. So, as the +airship's latest course seemed to be due north, he +made up his mind to bring her to ground before she +could change her mind and take to the seas again, +but if possible he proposed that she should carry +him and his crew across the Danish border, so as to +avoid further complications with the German Army. +Even Captain Sir Owen Kettle has had to admit +that in these latter days Germans in bulk are likely +to be too well organized to be tackled without +adequate resources. +</p> + +<p> +The exit valves for the hydrogen in the many +ballonettes all converged to the control position, +and Captain Kettle experimented with them +judiciously, and noted results on the barometer and the +other altitude meters. +</p> + +<p> +The night was inkily dark, and in the grazing +country of Schleswig-Holstein (which was once +Denmark) there are few salient features except for +houses and farm villages. These were tucked +away in bed, and showed no lights; and, indeed, +up there, in the quiet night, it was hard to remember +that nine-tenths of Europe was flaming with war. +The stillness bred in Kettle's poetic brain the germ +of another idea. He turned again to pencil and +paper, and worked it out. Morning was beginning +to thin the night when it was borne in on him that +the Zeppelin was falling. +</p> + +<p> +It was the dawn chill, of course, that did it. +With engines running, he could have turned the +hot exhausts into the envelope, and expanded the +hydrogen in the ballonettes, and gained height +with ease. Now he was falling steadily—in fact, +rather quickly. Well, that was all right. The +Danish border was close ahead, and he had designed +to come to earth in Denmark. He picked up the +telephone and warned the pair in the after gondola +to stand-by for going ashore—and, incidentally, +forgetting the power of that loud-sounding +instrument, caused them to jump. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * +</p> + +<p> +As far as Mr. Martin Carnforth's personal record +goes, that was about the end of the tale. He +was conscious of a heavy blow—it seemed like +several heavy blows all rolled into one, and when +he next awoke to life it was in a bare, clean room +that smelt vaguely of cows and cheese. He was +lying on a wooden bed that was too short for him, +and sitting by his side was Dr. Mary Brown. +Dr. Brown was wearing a voluminous skirt made of +whitey-brown canvas, and was looking sulky. +There was a smell of pungent cigar-smoke in the +room, and tracing this up, Carnforth's eye lit upon +the small, neat form of Captain Kettle, writing +busily at the window ledge. +</p> + +<p> +His eyes worked back again to the skirt which +covered Dr. Brown's voluminous black leather +breeches, and this set his thoughts going again. +He chuckled pleasantly at them. +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo, sir," said the little sailor, turning round. +"Glad to see you're getting all right again. You +had a bit of a bump." +</p> + +<p> +"It seemed to me several bumps." +</p> + +<p> +"My fault, sir, entirely. I brought her alongside +in a way that ought to cost me my airman's ticket. +I told you all along she was a beast to navigate, +but I am not going to excuse myself behind that. +You put your shoulder out in getting ashore." +</p> + +<p> +"And you put it in, my dear?" +</p> + +<p> +"I tried," said Dr. Brown sulkily. "I did my best." +</p> + +<p> +"But you had to call in a second opinion, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, sir, you see, Miss hasn't had the experience +in setting limbs and putting them into joint that I +have. But I think you'll find we did the job all +right between us." +</p> + +<p> +"And where's the Zep?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid that's a total loss. You see, sir, +if the Danes had got it, being neutrals, they'd +probably have traded it back to the Germans. +So I just put a match to the petrol tank before I +left. We were only just across the border, and a +whole regiment of German soldiers skipped over +to put out the blaze." +</p> + +<p> +"And didn't they? Quick, man. Don't say +they managed it." +</p> + +<p> +"It looked as if some of your bombs got +over-heated, sir. She made one of the finest blow-ups +I ever heard, and the great, big quarry-hole that +was left was beginning to fill with water when we +set off for the house. The farmer here seems rather +pleased. He says the great difficulty on this farm +has been enough water for milk-cooling." +</p> + +<p> +"Eh, well, we seem to have made some good +Germans after all. And our little girl with the +nice eyes here has had the time of her life, haven't +you, my dear? You appear to be the person +that's been mainly scored off, Captain. You'll +have trouble with that chapel if the Rhine Tour +was essential." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you make any mistake there, sir. I've +got that crowd in hand, and a bit to spare, if Rhine +poetry will do it." +</p> + +<p> +"What, you've written the things?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have, sir. It seems to me I generally can +write poetry best about places I haven't seen. +Seeing them generally spoils my flow. If I don't +give that chemist Lorely enough to choke him, I'll +eat my hat. These new Rhine Tour poems of mine +beat the real thing hands down. They'll just make +the sweat drip off him when I give them from our +pulpit." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> + +<h2> +X +<br><br> +THE INVENTOR OF MELTITE +</h2> + +<p> +Mr. S.J. Livingstone was not a poor +man, but I think he may be described +broadly as an ambitious man. He had +an air that some people (other than customers) +found arrogant. +</p> + +<p> +Soon after the War began he tried to hold up +the British Admiralty for a million sterling, free +of tax, and an earldom; and when this did not +come off, he crossed Whitehall and tried the same +game on the War Office. He got hold of some bland +ass there who irritated him into saying more than +was judicious, and left the building under arrest. +The magistrate before whom he was hauled, called +in doctors to inquire into his mental state, and was +with difficulty persuaded to dismiss him with a +caution. +</p> + +<p> +He had not gone to either of these seats of military +learning on the strength of his appearance alone. +He was a business man, and had no mind to be +fubbed off with underlings. He knew it would +require one of the Heads to be man enough to give +him what he asked for, and he saw to it that weighty +introductions carried him direct to a Head—both +at the Admiralty and War Office. The only trouble +was, neither Head that he saw was big enough +for his job, or S.J. Livingstone would have got +what he asked for—or been taken out into the yard +and shot before he could talk. For myself, I think +I should have shot him, as being on the whole the +safer, and certainly the cleaner course. However, +perhaps that is a matter of taste. You shall judge +for yourself. +</p> + +<p> +But read next a word or two about the man +himself. Livingstone, he called himself, and by +reason of a birth in Paisley, affected a Glasgow +accent, rather of the Pollokshields variety. (This +is a cross between cleft palate and German.) His +father had been Solomon Levenstein who had +exchanged brutal ill-treatment in the Frankfort +Ghetto for the doubtful delights of being a rabbi +in Scotland. (Conceive a Jewish priest in an +atmosphere of Wee Frees, U.P.'s and Episcopalians!) +S.J. Livingstone, son of Solomon Levenstein, never +visited Germany, but loathed it and all its contents +from the bitter tales of Ghetto persecution dinned +into him during his upbringing. +</p> + +<p> +Old Solomon, in his way, was a well-read man; +S.J. was a better—mainly in the direction of natural +science. I think if somebody had subsidised +S.J. and he had specialized in one or two branches of +chemistry or chemical physics he might have been +something big, though again this is open to question. +It is on the cards that when he discovered something +good—Meltite, for instance—he would have +dropped pure research like a hot brick and struck +out boldly for commercial affluence. He was a +good deal of a mixture—which is perhaps the same +thing as saying he was altogether a Jew. For +instance; no outsider would have suspected him of +collecting enamels; but he did, lavishly and +worshipfully; and told no one, so that prices should not +be raised against him. +</p> + +<p> +In commercial life, S.J. Livingstone was a seller +of dyewares in Bradford (Livingstone & Co., 29, +Chapel Row. Agents for Dresdner Alizerin Gesellschaft. +Telegrams:—"Explorer," Bradford). Up +to the beginning of the War, he did pretty well, +sold a decent weight of goods in his office, and more, +after the manner of his kind, at the political club +where he lunched, and at the golf club where he +kept his liver down to gauge on Saturdays. On +Sundays he was invisible. He spent half that day +in chemical research—he was chasing a cheaper +synthetic indigo—and the other half in gloating +over his enamels. No living soul ever caught him +at either. Between whiles his housekeeper fed +him sumptuously, although he bullied her. +</p> + +<p> +After war began he made money hand over fist. +How he ran German dyewares into England without +getting dropped on I know, but shall not tell. +Probably the Government knows, too. The British +Government makes a speciality of doing silly things, +we all admit, but it is not what the Oriental calls an +All-the-time Fool. We all knew the Government +wanted dyewares to get into the country for khaki +and other things, and, presumably the Government +knew when to wink. Anyway, Livingstone +& Co. were the firm with the goods, which they +bought for shillings a pound, and sold for pounds +a pound, to S.J.'s delight, and to the noted increase +amongst his enamels. It was just after last +December's balance sheet he cut out the big Yankee +collectors over that bit of old Limoges that Christie's +called the Scarlet Madonna. Also he bought +twenty dozen Pommery '06. +</p> + +<p> +Then by an absolute fluke on one Sunday morning +he blundered upon Meltite. +</p> + +<p> +It was untamed enough when he first mixed it, +and I gather that he narrowly escaped with life. +As it was, he was badly burned, his laboratory in +the cellar was wrecked, and the City Fire Brigade +had an interesting time salving the balance of the +house. +</p> + +<p> +But he was skilled enough at his job, and once +he knew the nature of the mixture he had stumbled +upon it was easy to arrange its proportions so that +it could be handled in comparative safety. +Incidentally the City Corporation helped him. They +were using a mechanical mixture of an iron salt +and powdered aluminium for welding together the +ends of tram-rails, and he studied their methods. +The Corporation called their stuff Thermit. There +is no secret about it. Thermit is used for a score +of purposes, and latterly the ingenious German +loads it into his Zeppelin bombs. S.J. Livingstone's +mixture was like Thermit, only more so. He added +to his powdered aluminium a substance that gave +up its oxygen with more astonishing quickness, with +the result of producing even more amazing heat +than burning Thermit gave out. +</p> + +<p> +After inspecting the fused remains of his cellar, +the inventor hit upon "Meltite" as a name for his +discovery, and then spent a rapturous afternoon +gloating over his enamels, and thanking Allah that +he kept them in a fireproof safe. He went to the +Seascale links for a couple of days then, and because +he was thinking of something else the whole time, +played golf extremely badly. But exercise and sea +air crisped his brain, and lifted his outlook from the +retail view. +</p> + +<p> +Half the world was at war. This was no time +for a new Limited Company, and anyway that +infernal Treasury would probably stop a capital +issue. Besides, if he took out a patent, and +published a specification, Germany would jump his +claims as surely as mails ran to Rotterdam. +</p> + +<p> +"No," he declared—and smashed a new driver +into the turf and sent the head flying. "No, a +Government is my mark, and the British is the +nearest. The German, of course, would be the +easier to handle, but strafe Germany, anyway—The +British Government—and keep the mixture a +secret till they pay—and then let them work +it—Caddy, give me a club that won't break. I think +I'll make an iron shot of this now." +</p> + +<p> +Thereafter he sold the business of S.J. Livingstone +& Co., 29, Chapel Row, Bradford, to an +unintelligent Christian (being very shrewdly of opinion +that no more German dyewares would slip through +before the end of the war), and settled down to draw +out a prospectus for Meltite that would convince +even a high Government official. +</p> + +<p> +Shells for naval and military cannon, loaded +with Meltite, were the basis of his first idea. On +leaving the gun they would be fired by means of +an ordinary time fuse, and could (1) arrive as a mass +of molten steel—highly recommended for annoyance +to trenches; or (2) could warm up after penetrating +armour—a special line this for setting fire +to refractory warships. +</p> + +<p> +S.J. Livingstone was not a literary genius, but +he was a salesman, and a man who can unload +dye-wares in Bradford and Manchester can sell anything. +His prospectus of Meltite was a gem in its way, and +he was justly proud of it. But he did not send it +through the post. He got the best introductions +possible to the biggest man available at the Admiralty, +and took the prospectus in his hand to back up +his voluble tongue. +</p> + +<p> +He failed at the Admiralty to make a sale, as has +just been recorded, but I know no details. All I +could get out of him was that the officials at that +office were "a pretty tough lot, but, according to +their limited lights, sound." S.J. did not get his +knife into the Admiralty as he did into the War +Office, and I think it was more the particular "bland +ass" (his term) who received him there than the +failure to effect a bargain that got on his nerves. +He was always rather an arrogant man with those +he considered weaker than himself. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment, after that second rejection with +its police-court sequel, he was minded to seek the +sure market of Germany. They, at any rate, had +no qualms about the methods by which they killed +an enemy, so long as they killed him efficiently, +and anyway Germans knew enough about elementary +science to understand a first-class invention +when they saw one. He dined on this, in style, +and at the Café Royal, and came out, and shook a +fist at darkened London. +</p> + +<p> +"Curse you," he said to Great Britain, "I don't +care a row of beans about you, but I'm not going +to help the blighters who tormented Solomon +Levenstein in Frankfort. And I am going to make +Creation hear all about Meltite, even if I don't get +paid C.O.D. Afterwards, when you fools here do +get wise to what you've been offered, the price will +be two millions instead of one, with the earldom +thrown in as per before. Dirt cheap, too! Only +ten hours' cost of your blessed war. Then I'll +settle down and marry—yes, marry some real nice +girl with a lump of money—and have a family, and +try to feel a real Englishman. And I'll have the +best collection of enamels on earth—not on view +to the public, or they'd be raising my income-tax. +'The Earl and Countess of Livingstone invite you +to Livingstone Castle to meat tea, and afterwards +to view their celebrated enamels.' And perhaps we +won't do it in style——I beg your pardon." +</p> + +<p> +"Not 't all," said the man whose hat he had +bashed in. "Just rehearsing your speech, I +suppose? Or have you been dinin'—like myself? +What do you say to joining me in small glass +particular old fine champagne brandy to keep it all +quiet? You'll have to pay for yourself because of +non-treating order, but I'll pay for myself next +round, so that'll be all right." +</p> + +<p> +Now S.J. was not in the mood to come down +from the clouds and drink brandy with a stranger +who had obviously "dined" already, and the +stranger was sharp enough to notice this. Said he: +</p> + +<p> +"Don't strain yourself to come in here if you're +due at the club. But I'm bound to talk to somebody +about my yacht, or else I'll burst, and I thought +you'd do." +</p> + +<p> +Thoughts snapped and sizzled in S.J.'s brain. +</p> + +<p> +"A yacht, have you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I call her that when I want to put on edge. +Admirin' friends describe her as a coffin with the +motor too far aft." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," said S.J. Livingstone. "I'll +come in with you and have that cognac." +</p> + +<p> +"Come along in then, or some sweet young thing +will trip along and ask why I'm not soldierin', and +I shall bring the blush to her damask cheek by +explaining how few of my legal set of insides I've +got left on the premises. You unsound, too?" +</p> + +<p> +"Too old," said S.J., who was thirty-five. +"Turned forty-six, I'm sorry to say, though +perhaps I don't look it. How big's this yacht of +yours?" +</p> + +<p> +"That depends whether you view her with the +mellow eye of evening, or run her over with a cold +two-foot rule. Just now I could take her round +the world with a crew of one, and if there was a +German to kill at the far end, I'd take her round +twice. Gad, man, I'd give something to be sound! +But it's no use lyin' to those infernal Army vets. +I know. I've tried." +</p> + +<p> +"It must be beastly. Then she's an ocean-going +yacht?" +</p> + +<p> +"Good heavens, yes, man; though frankly she's +a bit damp if there's much sea runnin'. But in +anything like smooth water, if her sparking plugs +are clean, and she's pleased with her mixture, she +can kick out eleven—yes, and up to eleven-point-eight +sometimes, as easy as look at you. And I've +just shipped a patent washstand that'll beat the +band. Can't leak in-board however rocky the +valves get." +</p> + +<p> +"Why haven't you hired her to Government?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because the swine don't know a soft thing when +they see one. She fouled two of their blessed +conditions out of eight hundred and forty-three. It +was my own patent balance-rudder that floored her +finally. They said she'd turn turtle if I gave her a +hard-over helm at top speed. Well, so would a +loco go smash if you ran it full pelt into the buffers. +It's a thing a man doesn't do, that's all. Damn, let's +clear out of here! That pretty girl with the gold +hat there by the pillar is going to shove a white +feather on me. I know it by her thoughtful eye. +And I shall be saying something I shall regret +to-morrow morning if she does. Have you a club +anywhere handy?" +</p> + +<p> +"I haven't a London club." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I've a pot-house of sorts in St. James's +Street. We'll go there. Drat that girl." +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * +</p> + +<p> +It was a queer and one-sided partnership that +was fixed up between Jew and Gentile that night. +The Gentile, who was Sir Thomas Hillcote (seventh +baronet), hankered after nothing except "a bit of +sport with the Germans." The Jew's single idea +was to advertise Meltite so noisily that even the +British Government must see the need to buy it up +at maker's terms. +</p> + +<p> +"Hallo, Tommy!" said a man coming into the +club smoke-room. "How's <i>Drowning Made Easy</i>? +Still afloat?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, I've put her on wheels and made her into +an armoured car," said the owner genially. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, call on me when you want a spare +shuvver. My neck's my own at present. Nobody +seems to want it." +</p> + +<p> +"That's Bell," said Hillcote, as the man carefully +picked his way to a chair at the other side of +the room. "He's got locomotor ataxy. He and +I both crocked in the Navy the same week, and +got fired out by a Medical Board on the same day. +Rum, isn't it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, you're a naval gentleman, are you?" said S.J. +</p> + +<p> +"There's another blow. I've got even Navy +rubbed off me now, have I? As a matter of interest, +was it one of our genial archbishops you took +me for? Alack, my fatal gravity of manner." +</p> + +<p> +"Then you can navigate, and all that?" +</p> + +<p> +"I was a most promising officer. Every one said +it of me. It was a thing I couldn't avoid. The +First Lord sobbed out that now, indeed, the country +would go to the dogs when they lost me. I say, +Mr. Isaacs, I mayn't stand you a drink because of +the brutal Laws of the Land—Section: Treating. +But you may absorb mine when I'm not looking. +I've about got my load. My crumbs, but wasn't +that a pretty girl with the gold hat?" +</p> + +<p> +"If you carry out my scheme, you could marry +ten girls with gold hats." +</p> + +<p> +"Not 't all, my good chap. I'm not a Turk. +But, by Jove, I'll tell you what! If you'll let +old Tinkle Bell chip in, we'll call it a deal. He's +having a filthy time, poor dear, just now, what +with pain and being flinty, and all that, and if he +saw a decent chance of being hung as a pirate, or +anything in that line (which is what your scheme +seems to amount to)—excuse me, Mr. Benjamin, +if I'm a bit fuzzy about it—he'd freeze on to it with +both claws. By the way, I suppose you are an +Englishman?" +</p> + +<p> +"Rather! Sorry if you thought I was anything else." +</p> + +<p> +"Not 't all. But you will waggle your hands +in moments of excitement. Pedigree started in +Asia, I suppose. I shall want a bit of proof that +you can deliver those goods in the dynamite line +you've been speaking about——" +</p> + +<p> +"Meltite." +</p> + +<p> +"Very likely. Never heard of it. I wasn't one +of the scientific johnnies. I was merely a salt-horse +lootenant. Well, prove to me and old Tinkle +that this blowy-up stuff will eat holes in a ship's +plating, as you say, and we'll motor you off to any +old point in the North Sea you care to name till +we've sunk all the shipping afloat, or run out of +bombs, or been strafed ourselves, whichever comes +first. Is it a bet?" +</p> + +<p> +"You're just the gentleman I want. Look here; +read that! There's a full specification of Meltite." +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing doing, most noble Abraham. I don't +care a row of pins for typewritten matter. The +letters jump about so. Nothing but the genuine +article at work will convince us. Let Tinkle and +me see that with a sober morning eye, and we'll +get busy with a speed that will surprise you." +</p> + +<p> +Sir Thomas Hillcote's motor-boat does not appear +in either Lloyd's or the Yachting Register as +<i>Drowning Made Easy</i>, but as her real name brings up +other memories, it may here be suppressed. Anyway, +amongst her intimates and acquaintances she +is sufficiently well known by her nickname. +</p> + +<p> +She was the darling of her owner's heart, and +largely the product of his lamentable inventive +faculties. From her misplaced engines to her +ridiculous bow, from her capstan (whose barrel +would not bite) to an enormous balance rudder that +would have capsized a battleship, she was a museum +of enthusiastic ideas gone wrong. Ex-Lieutenant +Thomas Hillcote swelled with pride every time +she tried to shake him overboard. Ex-Lieutenant +Bell was glad to be at sea once again in anything +that would float. He had been desperately afraid +of dying in his bed these last few weeks, and now, +with the low land of the Thames Estuary dropping +into the grey seas astern, the fear was easing. +There was war and work away through the North +Sea mists ahead, and perhaps luck. +</p> + +<p> +"Can you cook?" S.J. Livingstone was asked. +</p> + +<p> +"I never tried. I've always been above that +sort of thing." +</p> + +<p> +"Then you've got to learn. You aren't a watch-keeper, +and seeing as how we don't carry a crew +this trip, you'll have to cook—and cook well, or +you'll get the foul side of Tinkle's tongue. When +we bring up alongside the enemy you'll be gunnery +lootenant, and you take charge, and we two do as +we're told. But till then you're cook, Father Isaac; +and as we're bare Navy in the way of drinks, and +there's no whisky on board, you're to stand-by with +hot cocoa whenever it's wanted. Got that? We'll +worry along on cold tin and biscuit for the rest. +But we're not going to be done out of our lawful +cocoa, and don't you forget it. You may be sick +between whiles, though what in thunder you're +being sick for in smooth water like this beats me. +Good Lord! there's a busy devil of a destroyer buzzing +up at about fifty knots, and wasting my country's +fuel-oil most scandalously, just to interfere. Here +Tinkle, you talk to her, and tell her we're out after +mackerel. Say I'm below, writing to a lady friend +who wears a gold hat." +</p> + +<p> +Ex-Lieutenant Bell tried to be formal, but was +recognized. +</p> + +<p> +"Haw, haw! you and your mackerel! Glad +to see you looking so fit, Tinkle. You'll be back +as a giddy brass-edged commander before the +week's out. Go easy with that wheel, or you'll +twist off Tommy's patent rudder. If you stick to +your present course you'll land on to the feather-edge +of my fancy new minefield. You might call +me up if they don't go off, and I'll come and set +'em better. You gay kipper, why doesn't <i>Drowning</i> +carry a pilot? But I suppose that's Tommy. +Trust Tommy for running on a graveyard if there's +one handy. You bear away four points starboard, +Tinkle, and you'll live a lot longer. Keep good." +</p> + +<p> +The destroyer grunted and bucked, and ran +away over the edge of the horizon at the speed of a +railway train. She spread the news amongst the +British sea police patrolling the North Sea, and they +in their turn jeered at the motor-boat, and let her +through. An important small cruiser wig-wagged +"Captain's compliments to Sir T. Hillcote, and +he didn't care for mackerel, but would like brace +of grouse." An ugly tug, with a three-inch gun +stuck through her towing-bridge, hailed through a +megaphone that she could supply a stale tinned +tongue for bait if fish were not biting freely. A +draggle-tailed motor patrol-boat, whose crew all +wore forked beards in polite imitation of Admiral +Tirpitz, offered to bet <i>Drowning Made Easy</i> +three gallons of petrol to a pint of lubricating oil +she hadn't got more than three cylinders firing at +that precise moment—and the bet, for painful +reasons, could not be taken. +</p> + +<p> +"We're making a dreadful stir," said S.J. Livingstone +once, between spasms. "I'd no idea there +were so many British ships about." +</p> + +<p> +"Who did you think ran the North Sea?" Bell +asked. "The Germans? You've been reading the +papers, Uncle Reuben. You're entirely wrong. +It's ceased to be the German Ocean quite a lot of +months now, and we've taken possession of it +ourselves for keeps. Bring me a bowl of cocoa, +Reuben, hot and gummy, and mind you don't slop it +about on the oilcloth like you did last time. Also +bring me of the sandwiches, cold-dog variety, one; +class, non-bendable. I have a twist on me, Reuben, +for the first time for three months. After you have +completed your important duties as steward, you +can stand-by, and get a couple of your torpedoes, +or whatever you call 'em, ranged ready for action. +We are not exactly on our cruising ground yet, but +there's a good thick North Sea fog coming down, and +you meet all sorts of funny things in fogs." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think I can do it," said S.J. faintly. +"This beastly little boat lurches so, and I've been +so sick, I've no strength left." +</p> + +<p> +The man with locomotor ataxy dropped his +drawl, and yapped in the old style of the quarterdeck. +</p> + +<p> +"Carry out your orders! This is war-time! +If you don't do as you are told, I will fling you +overboard. We've no use here for extra ballast. If +you can't do it yourself, I'll take charge of your +Meltite, or whatever you call it, and make what I +can of it myself." +</p> + +<p> +"You coolly say you'll rob me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Like a bird. Carry on, now!" +</p> + +<p> +S.J. Livingstone found himself doing as he was +told. These ex-naval lieutenants at sea were very +different people from the thirsty souls he had talked +with in a St. James's Street club, and he suddenly +found himself scared. The attitude of Sir Thomas +Hillcote on the matter clinched things. +</p> + +<p> +"I resent Mr. Bell's treatment," said S.J., as he +was bringing aft the ordered cocoa. +</p> + +<p> +"You can resent till you're black in the face," +the baronet informed him cheerfully. +</p> + +<p> +"And I shall square up for it when I get home." +</p> + +<p> +"Home! Who's thinking of getting home? +We're out here to play games with Germany, with +half the British Fleet standing by ready to interfere. +You haven't a cat-in-hell chance of seeing your +happy home again, Moses, my dear. You carry +on and don't worry about the future, or you'll meet +with present trouble that'll cause you pain. That's +a sound tip. Old Tinkle's got the devil of a temper +now he's seedy, and he'll break your arm or crack +your jaw as soon as look at you if you don't carry +out orders smartly. I'll help him if necessary." +</p> + +<p> +Now I don't think S.J. was a coward, but he +was first and foremost a business man, and he was +beginning to regret very much that he had launched +Meltite with these strange associates. His idea, of +course, was (with their help) to advertise the stuff +and sell it. Theirs was an entirely different +proposition. They looked forward to doing the +maximum of damage with it—and there their programme +ended. They did not anticipate getting back to +England. They had no care whatever for the future +of Meltite or its inventor. The disgusting part of +it was there was no wriggling out of the deal. His +earldom, his two millions, his beautiful enamels—— +</p> + +<p> +"Below there. Stand-by with those torpedo +things. Tommy, bear a hand to do as Reuben tells +you. Neither of you is to use a word of English. +Hear that Reuben? If you let out a word of English +I'll shoot you like a rat. I'll do all the patter: +understand? And Tommy, fish out those German +uniform caps for the pair of you. I've got mine +bent." +</p> + +<p> +S.J. Livingstone went out presently into the +cold foggy air on deck with heavy burdens, and to +his amazement saw a German naval ensign whipping +and snapping from the motor-boat's jackstaff, and +her wheel held by a starched and arrogant German +officer in whom he could hardly recognize the late +Mr. Bell of St. James's Street. A steamer of 3,000 +tons loomed through the fog, and the motor-boat +was edging down on to her on a parallel course. +</p> + +<p> +"What steamboat's that?" The hail went in +harsh German. +</p> + +<p> +"Steamship <i>Rhein</i>, Rotterdam-Amerika Line, +Vanrennan Master, from Galveston for Rotterdam. +Cotton loaded." +</p> + +<p> +"Heave-to, and I will see if I must sink you." +</p> + +<p> +"But, thousand devils, Captain, I'm carrying +cotton I tell you, and it's for Germany." +</p> + +<p> +"That's what I wanted to know. Get out your +port boats, and row clear as soon as you like. I'm +coming up to starboard." +</p> + +<p> +The Dutch skipper danced on his bridge, but his +crew carried out the order without waiting for him +to repeat them. Then Bell put the motor-boat +alongside, and S.J. did the rest with the efficient +help of Sir Thomas Hillcote. +</p> + +<p> +The charge of Meltite was made fast to an electro-magnet, +which was fed by an accumulator of S.J.'s +own design. This was not active till it was clapped +against a ship's plating, but once there a switch +was automatically thrown in, and the whole affair +clung in place like a limpet. Simultaneously a +small detonator fired the Meltite. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Drowning Made Easy</i> slid away with a spurting, +sputtering spray of molten iron pursuing her, +and a fine firework effect taking place over her +counter. +</p> + +<p> +"Good Heavens!" said Hillcote. "That fiery +stuff is eating the plating away as if it was so much +tissue paper, and inside the hole things look like a +blast-furnace. That's the cotton, I suppose. Aren't +those ducks getting out their boats in a number-one +hurry. There goes the owner down off the +bridge to get the ship's papers before he leaves for +home. By gad, look! The deck's catching now. +Aaron, my lad, your stuff's big medicine, but it +advertises itself a bit too much for my taste. We +shall have the British Navy round here with +fire-engines and first-aid kit in two jiffs, and we don't +want to meet them. No, not any. Tinkle, my +humble friend, bear away to the cold North for half +an hour, and I'll hop below and whoop up the +coffee-mill another knot or so." +</p> + +<p> +"You might strike that infernal flag before you +go; and, here, take my fancy hat with you." +</p> + +<p> +They fired a second ship that night, copper-laden, +and were fired at by a third. The third ship +carried a profane Yankee officer on her bridge who +had apparently been ruffled by the British Navy +in the immediate past, and said he would see all +Germans in hell before he answered their questions. +He backed up his remarks with a .380 automatic +Colt, with which he made remarkably close shooting. +Next day Sir Thomas Hillcote broke down and +was put in his bunk. +</p> + +<p> +"I told you my insides were unreliable," he +gasped at them between spasms. "Leave me the +morphia, and I shall be quite merry and bright. +Don't you worry about me, Tinkle. I'll dream about +that girl with the gold hat. You carry on, and +Jonadab will help you. Jon's getting quite a +second Nelson with all his experience. Oh, +corkscrews! that was a twinge. I'd take a cast closer +in to Rotterdam if I were you." +</p> + +<p> +"We've only just about enough petrol to get +home on," said S.J. +</p> + +<p> +"Who wants to get home, my good Jeremiah? +There's lots more mischief to be done out here if +all goes well and the British Navy doesn't butt in. +Just think: all this stuff into or out of Rotterdam +is for or from Germany, and because Germany's got +a pull in London, the British Government doesn't +interfere." +</p> + +<p> +"That's true enough," said the man who had run +dyewares. +</p> + +<p> +"Well we, not being politicians, and knowing +what's good for the country, do interfere. That's +all. I suppose a lot of pious people will want to hang +us for our pains, but till we are hung we'll go on with +the missionary effort. Tinkle, get busy. There's +a steamer coming. I can feel the vibration of her +propeller on my sore liver. No, propellers; she's +twin screw. Hop, you lazy scoundrel, or she'll +be past us." +</p> + +<p> +"Sir Thomas is bad," said S.J., when they got +back on deck. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you only just found that out? That +new fellow's coming towards us. I'm going to turn +round. Mind you don't get shot overboard when I +give her the helm! Here! Stay on deck there, +you Reuben. You needn't worry about Tommy +shooting out of his berth. I'll keep him on the lee +side." +</p> + +<p> +Once more ex-Lieutenant Bell appeared as the +complete German naval officer, and barked his +remarks in a foreign tongue. The new ship was a +Swede, out of Rotterdam for New York, full to the +hatches with German leather goods, dyewares, and +chemicals. "Those beasts of English," announced +her captain, "are respecting the rights of neutrals +this week, whatever they may do next." +</p> + +<p> +"Got good freights?" +</p> + +<p> +The Swede shrugged apologetically. "Well, in +war time, illustrious Herr, we neutrals all look to +make a little extra bit. Be careful—Himmel! be +careful; you will run me down." +</p> + +<p> +"Not a bit of it. I'm not going to rain. It's +only a sort of game like 'Tig' we're playing. Now +then Rube. On the port quarter. Clap on your +poultice when I swing her in, and don't get flung +overboard if you can help it. Poor old Tommy's +patent rudder's a bit fierce. Great Scott, man, +but you set that fuse mighty short. You'd better +put some oil on those burnt hands before the air +gets to them." +</p> + +<p> +"You German swine," the Swede stormed, "you +have set my ship on fire." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope so, Mr. Neutral. Rather pretty effect, +I call it. To see a big chunk of plating dissolve out +into mere sparks and roman candles is astonishingly +pretty to the simple sailorman. I should call +away your boats if I were you, or you'll get wet +feet. Excuse my butting in with advice, but you +seem rather to have lost your head, and by the smell, +those leather goods you were bucking about are +beginning to singe." +</p> + +<p> +Now the night was dark and the night was clear, +and it sang with wind; and the steamboat flamed +like a torch; and by the rules of war <i>Drowning +Made Easy</i> should have faded from the scene +of her exploit with all possible speed. But the +Swede bungled his boat-lowering badly, and Bell +could not tear himself away. He bawled advice with +an acid tongue, and in the event of the advice not +being acted upon efficiently, he stood by to save life. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall be seen here," said S.J., frostily. +</p> + +<p> +"Bound to be. Party in the front seats at the +firework show always is spotted by the whole +audience. But a man couldn't clear out whilst there +was a possibility of those fellows frying, unless he was +a dam' German. I'm sure you see that, Rube?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ye—es," said S.J. Livingstone, and stepped +down into the after well and sat there. Something +inside him bumped with heavy foreboding. +</p> + +<p> +The German submarine must have come up +awash, and quietly stalked them by the light of the +burning Swede. +</p> + +<p> +Bell did not see her till she was close alongside. +They called on him to surrender. He very naturally +turned on his power, and tried to bolt. At +the same time he threw into the grey North Sea the +last remaining Meltite firemaker, where it burst +into torrid flame, and exploded in a geyser of fire +and steam. Him, after a careful inspection—a very +careful inspection—the Germans shot in six places. +Then they bore down alongside, and made fast. +</p> + +<p> +The boarding party found Sir Thomas Hillcote +dead in a bunk below. He had bitten through his +lower lip because he did not wish to call out and +disturb his two shipmates on deck who were trying +to give a lift to the British Empire. They examined +S.J. curiously, inquired his name, and, on hearing +it, transhipped him with politeness. +</p> + +<p> +One of the officers leaned over Bell, who was +very nearly gone. "Ha, I thought I knew you. +We met once at Kiel, if you remember, at the +regatta. I'm sorry, but it's the fortune of war." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't apologize," gasped the man with locomotor +ataxy. "I've got to windward of the +Admiralty—this trip, and died in my boots—at sea. At +sea! I've—had—luck." +</p> + +<p> +Down below in a clammy cabin in the U-boat, +S.J. Livingstone found himself treated with a +curious courtesy that after a while began to chill. +It flashed upon him that cannibals might be similarly +courteous to a missionary that they proposed +to—well—attend to later. These German officers +knew his name, the style of his firm in Bradford, +the nature of his proceedings at the British +Admiralty, his rejection by the "bland ass" at the War +Office. They mentioned that eminent officer's +name, and could imitate his manner. They even +knew about S.J.'s taste for enamels, and had a +catalogue of his more recent purchases. It was all +most uncanny. They gave him his favourite +Pommery to drink. +</p> + +<p> +They knew all about the powers of Meltite, and +recited to him a list of ships destroyed and a +description of what they looked like as they burned. +It was all very accurate, and scientific and, +unnerving. An outside observer would have noticed +one curious change in S.J. He was not the least +arrogant now, either in manner or look. I don't say +he cringed, but—well, there was a change. +</p> + +<p> +They even in a wooden way got on to his pedigree. +</p> + +<p> +"You are not English? No?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly I am. My name is Livingstone. +Unless you call it Scotch." +</p> + +<p> +"Livingstone? Ah, but before you changed +it? What?" +</p> + +<p> +S.J. kept a sullen silence. +</p> + +<p> +"Answer me. Was it not Levenstein?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said S.J. and felt his self-respect oozing +from him. +</p> + +<p> +"So! And now you are going to tell me—pleasantly, +and without pressure—how Meltite is +made?" +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know. I forget." +</p> + +<p> +"So? Then I hope you like chlorine. Because +until you remember, I shall put you in the +compartment with our accumulators which just now +are gassing, and there you will perhaps recover +your memory before it is too late." +</p> + +<p> +But S.J. Livingstone came of a race that in the +past had had teeth pulled rather than draw cheques +which they did not consider lawfully due, and he +coughed, and spat, and choked, but parted with no +formula. He had pretty far gone when the U-boat +ran into her home port, but he showed not the +smallest signs of yielding. +</p> + +<p> +The Germans were eminently business-like. +S.J. Levenstein dead was no use to them. Alive he +was full of Melinitic possibilities. So they kept +him alive, and alternately treated him well and +vilely. He was interviewed by small personages +and great, all of them in uniform, some of them +polite, most of them overbearing, some of them +proffering gifts, many of them offering threats; +but to all of them he was unyielding! He might +be this Levenstein they were talking about. +He might have heard of Meltite. But, anyway, at +the moment he had forgotten the composition of +Meltite, if, indeed he had ever heard it. They could +not budge him past that, by either kindness or +cruelty. +</p> + +<p> +At last he was brought before the Greatest Personage +of all, a tragic twitching cripple, and he set +himself out to charm. +</p> + +<p> +"I understand, Mr. Livingstone that you were a +Prussian by birth, a British subject by early +upbringing, and are a cosmopolitan by taste. Well, +it is our loss, because you are a man of ideas. But +I am not going to quarrel with your choice. You +have made a great invention in Meltite. You see +I am not going to belittle it. And if I say it is +great, it is great. You offered it to the London +Government. They, being fools, as I have shown +many times already, refused it. I believe they did +not even refuse it civilly. You have stated your +price—a million sterling and a peerage. I will give +it you." +</p> + +<p> +"My price is two millions, now that Meltite is +proved." +</p> + +<p> +"Two millions be it. I do not quibble over +marks about a thing I intend to get." +</p> + +<p> +"There is also the British peerage." +</p> + +<p> +"I can buy that for you, too—as I have bought +for money down other British titles for my people +when I wanted them." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, sire," said S.J. Levenstein, "get +me from the politicians an English earldom, and +give me two million British pounds sterling, and I +will give you the formula for Meltite." +</p> + +<p> +"That shall be arranged," said the Greatest +Personage, and S.J. was taught by his guide how +to back out from the Presence. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +There the matter rests for the present. +</p> + +<p> +S.J. Levenstein (or Livingstone) resides in dignified +seclusion and security in a Prussian castle full +of enamels, whilst arrangements are being made to +pay him his price. They feed him on the richest +food he cares to order, and he may bathe in +Pommery '06 if he so desires. +</p> + +<p> +I wonder if they will succeed? +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> +Printed in Great Britain by Butler & Tanner, Frome and London. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br><br></p> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78784 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/78784-h/images/img-109.jpg b/78784-h/images/img-109.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e398192 --- /dev/null +++ b/78784-h/images/img-109.jpg diff --git a/78784-h/images/img-112.jpg b/78784-h/images/img-112.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3c590aa --- /dev/null +++ b/78784-h/images/img-112.jpg diff --git a/78784-h/images/img-cover.jpg b/78784-h/images/img-cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c1db234 --- /dev/null +++ b/78784-h/images/img-cover.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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