The Sea-girt Fortress: A Story of Heligoland
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Produced by R.G.P.M. van Giesen. Thank you, Iain Somerville!
cover art]
The Sea-girt Fortress
BY PERCY F. WESTERMAN
"No boy alive will be able to peruse Mr. Westerman's pages without a quickening of his pulses."--Outlook.
The Sea-girt Fortress: A Story of Heligoland. 3_s_. 6_d_. "Mr. Westerman has provided a story of breathless excitement, and boys of all ages will read it with avidity."--Athenaeum.
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LONDON: BLACKIE & SON, LTD., 50 OLD BAILEY, E.C.
"HAND OVER HAND HE CLIMBED TILL HE REACHED A METALLICBEAM" _Frontispiece_]
TheSea-girt Fortress
A Story of Heligoland
BYPERCY F. WESTERMAN
Author of "When East Meets West" "Captured at Tripoli""The Quest of the _Golden Hope_""A Lad of Grit" &c.
_Illustrated by W. E. Wigfull_
BLACKIE AND SON LIMITEDLONDON GLASGOW AND BOMBAY
Contents CHAP.
I. MAN OVERBOARD II. THROUGH THE FOG III. A LOSS AND A FIND IV. ARRESTED V. A DISCOVERY VI. VON WITTELSBACH'S PLAN VII. OFFICIAL HINDRANCES VIII. SENTENCED IX. ON THE SCENT X. IN THE PRISON CELL XI. A NIGHT OF TOIL XII. INVESTIGATIONS XIII. AN EXPERIMENT WITH A ZEPPELIN XIV. THE SECOND NIGHT OF LIBERTY XV. RECAPTURED XVI. THE NEWS LEAKS OUT XVII. THE SANDINSEL TUNNEL XVIII. THE ERRANT AIRSHIP XIX. AT THE MERCY OF THE WINDS XX. HOMEWARD BOUND XXI. GOOD OLD HAMERTON! XXII. A MOMENTOUS DECISION XXIII. FIRST BLOOD XXIV. THE BATTLE OF THE GALLOPER SANDS XXV. THE FALL OF THE ISLAND FORTRESS
Illustrations
"HAND OVER HAND HE CLIMBED TILL HE REACHED A METALLIC BEAM" _Frontispiece_
"WAITING TILL A WAVE BROUGHT THE MAN WITHIN ARM'S LENGTH, THE SUB CLUTCHED HOLD OF HIM"
"'SPIES ARE NOT ENTITLED TO ANY CONSIDERATION OF THAT DESCRIPTION'"
"'IT'S THE ROUNDS, BY JOVE!' WHISPERED THE SUB"
"'GREAT SCOTT!' HE EXCLAIMED; 'IT'S HAMERTON'"
"A SEAPLANE CONTRIVED TO DROP A BOMB ON THE _ROYAL SOVEREIGN'S_ DECK"
THESEA-GIRT FORTRESS
CHAPTER I
Man Overboard
"WHERE are we now?" asked Oswald Detroit, emerging from the cabin ofthe _Diomeda_.
"Ask me another," replied his chum, Jack Hamerton, with a merrylaugh. "We may be here, we may be there, for all I know. One thing Iam certain of: I have just hove the lead, and found that we are intwenty-two fathoms, with a gravelly bottom. That's good enough forme. Also, by dead reckoning, we are three hundred and seventy-eightmiles from Lowestoft, and I can't take an observation because of thisfog."
"You don't seem at all anxious," remarked Detroit, who regarded thewall of thick white mist with evident mistrust.
"Why should I? The yacht's as sound as anyone could desire, and we'veplenty of sea room. Now, if we were anywhere in the neighbourhood ofthe sandbanks at the mouth of the Elbe, I might feel jumpy. Take thehelm, old man; north, eighty east, is the course. I'll getbreakfast."
Jack Hamerton was a tall, broad-shouldered fellow of twenty years ofage. He might well be described as thick-set, for his head was setupon his square shoulders by a short, thick neck, his arms werebrawny, while his legs would have caused many a professionalfootballer to turn green with envy. His features were inclinedtowards heaviness, the bushy eyebrows and square jaw denoting forceof character amounting to stubbornness.
He was a sub-lieutenant in the Royal Navy, and had lately been "paidoff" from H.M.S. _Blazer_ after an arduous commission in the PersianGulf. Owing to the particular circumstances My Lords had grantedHamerton three months' leave, and the Sub, with an innate love forthe salt seas, had chartered an eight-ton yacht, and with Detroit forcompany had started on a cruise to Kiel.
Oswald Detroit was physically different from Hamerton. He was tall,but slenderly built, yet there was a suppleness in his muscular limbsthat had stood him in good stead in the athletic world. His featureswere clean-cut and regular, his hair of a light-brown hue andinclined to curliness, while his fair skin, in spite of exposure tothe wind and sun, contrasted forcibly with Hamerton's almost swarthycomplexion.
Detroit was an American by birth--a native of Richmond, Va.--andAmerican in character to his finger tips. He had great faith in hiscountry, and a heap of self-reliance that had carried him throughmany difficult places. His powers of argument were marvellous,although he invariably hid his most telling points in debate under athin covering of dry humour.
It was at Lowestoft that the Sub met his future sailing mate for thefirst time, only a few days before the momentous voyage commenced.Oswald's sister had married a naval lieutenant, a distant cousin ofHamerton's, and thus the two men came in contact with each other.
In a very few hours a bond of friendship was found, for despite theirphysical difference Hamerton and Detroit had a lot in common. Bothwere keen sportsmen, and each took a deep interest in yachting, theAmerican being an active member of the exclusive Marblehead YachtClub. When Hamerton spoke of a cruise to the Baltic, with thecrowning attraction of participating in the international racing atKiel, Detroit's interest was so marked that it wanted littlepersuasion on the Sub's part to induce the American to accompany him.
Accordingly the eight-ton ketch _Diomeda_ was chartered. Althoughsomewhat small for an extensive voyage across the North Sea, she wasfar more seaworthy than many a craft of twice or even thrice hertonnage. Hamerton fell in love with her at first sight. It was not onaccount of her lines, for an almost total lack of sheer, bluff bows,and rounded run aft were not exactly pleasing to the eye. But therewas a substantial appearance about the craft that was far moreimportant than artistic curves, while closer acquaintance revealedthe fact that she did not belie her appearance.
Barely twenty-eight feet in length, with a generous beam of a thirdof her over-all dimension, and a draught of nearly six feet, the_Diomeda_ was snugly rigged and canvased.
Her cabin-top was low, offering little resistance to the wind, whileher cockpit, lead-lined and self-emptying, was essential for passagesacross the short steep seas betwixt the east coast of England and theopposite shores of the North Sea.
Descending the short flight of steps leading to the cabin, Hamertondiscarded his dripping oilskin, and methodically hung it on two hooksin a cupboard devoted to that purpose.
He was in no hurry: he rarely was, save when occasion necessitated,and only then did his activity become apparent. Otherwise he didthings in a cool, calculating way that seemed in keeping with hisponderous form.
The cabin was plainly yet comfortably furnished. On either side weresofa bunks, terminating with spacious lockers screened with curtains.Two scuttles in the rise of the cabin-top and a skylight overheadwere sufficient to impart plenty of light, but owing to the flyingspindrift these were securely fastened. In the centre of thelinoleum-covered floor stood a swing table, on which was spread achart of the North Sea. On the chart lay a pair of parallel rulersand a divi
ding compass.
The Sub rolled the chart--placing it in a rack so as to be easily gotat should it be required--dived into the pantry, and produced acouple of enamel mugs, plates and rather tarnished knives and forks.Then from another division he hauled out a teapot, some bread,butter, and a bundle of rashers.
Taking the latter, he made his way along the steeply inclined floortowards the fo'c'sle.
On the for'ard bulkhead was a clock and a barometer, surrounded byfour signal flags representing the yacht's name in code. The hands ofthe clock pointed to a quarter to five, the barometer, 30.01, steady;both pieces of information Hamerton entered in a rough logbook.
The fo'c'sle was small, and, being battened down, ill-ventilated. Theheat from the Primus stove and the odour from the frizzling bacon,combined with the erratic pitching and listing of the yacht, wouldhave upset many an experienced sailor, but unperturbed the amateurcook proceeded with his self-imposed task.
"On deck, there!" shouted Detroit, raising his voice to make himselfheard above the roar of the atmospheric stove.
There was something urgent in the tone of the American's voice.Hamerton backed out of the narrow fo'c'sle door, and, without waitingto put on his oilskin, ran up the ladder and gained the cockpit.
The fog was not so dense as it had been ten minutes previously. Therising sun had partially dispelled the white wall of vapour, so thatit was possible to see about fifty yards ahead.
"Listen!" exclaimed Oswald.
"Yes, I hear," replied the Sub. "A steamer of some sort, tearingalong at a furious pace. A quarter of a mile off, I should say, butclose enough in this mirk."
With that Hamerton snatched up a fog trumpet that lay on the lee seatof the well, and made the welkin echo to three loud blasts--therecognized signal of a sailing vessel with the wind abaft the beam.
No reply came from the unknown vessel. Momentarily the noise of herengines and the swish of water as her bows cleft the waves grewlouder and louder.
"Down helm, sharp!" ordered Hamerton. "What in the name of Davy Jonesis that idiot carrying on like that for?"
Round swung the _Diomeda_ slowly yet surely, but before the sailsbegan to flap, the disturber of her crew's peace of mind loomed outof the fog.
It was a large destroyer, painted a dull grey. She was travelling atclose on thirty knots. Dull red flames were spurting from her foursquat funnels. Her decks were being swept from end to end with water,while the spray, dashing against her funnels, trailed off into wispsof steam, leaving the fore side of the smoke-stacks bleached withsalt. In spite of the wave-washed decks, men, clad in greenish-greyoilskins, were standing by the two torpedo tubes on deck, while rightaft stood a seaman holding a red-and-white flag in his extendedhands.
This much the crew of the _Diomeda_ had barely time to take in, forclose astern of the leading destroyer came another, and another, andyet another, less than thirty feet separating the black cross ensignof the leading boat from the knife-like bows of the one next astern.Any miscalculations on the part of the coxswains of the several boatswould inevitably result in disaster.
Just as the fourth destroyer darted past the violently pitchingyacht--for she was in the thick of the combined "wash"--one of hercrew, who was in the act of securing a stanchion rail, slipped on theheaving, wave-swept deck. Unnoticed by his comrades, he rolled underthe rail and fell into the sea.
The _Diomeda_ was "in irons". Her sails were slatting violently inthe wind. She carried no way, nor would she answer to her helm, andsome minutes elapsed ere the ketch fell off sufficiently for hercanvas to draw.
Running forward and gripping the shrouds, Hamerton seized a boathook.The unfortunate man still floated, face upwards, but made no attemptto save himself.
"Guess he's broken his back," shouted Detroit to his companion, inreply to which the Sub nodded. Falling off a boat travelling atthirty knots, a man would strike the water with terrific force.
"Now luff!" bawled Hamerton. "Easy with your helm--port a little."
Leaning outwards to the full extent of his left arm, the Sub made afutile attempt with the boathook to reach the sailor.
"Up helm, and gybe her," he shouted. "We'll pick him up on the nexttack."
Then to his surprise Hamerton saw the American leap out of thecockpit, steady himself on the waterways for a brief instant, thenplunge into the sea.
"Silly ass!" grunted the Sub, although recognizing Detroit's pluck."I'll have two men to haul aboard now instead of one."
With that he made his way back to the cockpit to steady the yacht onher helm. Then it was that he found that Oswald had acted withdiscretion as well as bravery, for before leaping he had taken a turnof the end of the mainsheet round his waist. Rescuer and rescued weretrailing astern at the end of forty feet of rope.
Hauling the _Diomeda's_ headsails to windward, Hamerton soon had theyacht hove-to, though forging slowly through the water. It was then acomparatively easy task to get the mainsheet in until Detroit and theseaman were alongside. Then waiting till a wave brought the manwithin arm's length, the Sub clutched hold of him, and with apowerful heave lifted him on deck and into the well.
Without assistance Detroit scrambled up, and assisted his comrade toattend to the rescued seaman.
[Illustration "WAITING TILL A WAVE BROUGHT THE MAN WITHIN ARM'SLENGTH, THE SUB CLUTCHED HOLD OF HIM"]
"He's alive all right," announced Hamerton. "A lump of a fellow, byJove!" he added, critically regarding the stalwart, fair-hairedTeuton. "We'll get those wet clothes off him and carry him below. Youwill do well to change. Never mind about the boat, she'll take care ofherself for a while."
The destroyers were now out of earshot, swallowed up in the stilldense watery mist. More than likely the absence of the unfortunateseaman would not be noticed for some considerable time, and then itwas doubtful whether the vessels of the flotilla would retrace theircourse far enough to come in touch with the _Diomeda_.
"I'm glad I didn't miss that sight, by Jove!" said Hamerton, withunstinted praise. "Those Germans know how to handle their torpedocraft. Fancy taking them at that bat through a fog!"
"It's fools' work," said Detroit, who was struggling into a change ofclothing.
"All the same, it's part of the game, and only by constant practicecan they keep in a state of efficiency. Our fellows are pretty smartat manoeuvring, but these Germans appear to run all sorts of needlessrisk, and still manage without serious accidents. Finished changing?Good! You might get on deck and see how things are progressing."
Barely had Detroit resumed his post at the helm when out of the fogcame a succession of dull flashes, punctuated by the deafeningdetonation of a number of quick-firing guns. Then, like a veil rentin twain, the fog partly lifted, revealing a large battleship,cleared for action, and blazing away with her light armament in thedirection of the small British yacht.