The Sea-girt Fortress: A Story of Heligoland

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER XX

  Homeward Bound

  "IT's a pure piece of bluff--that's my opinion," declared Thompson."The most remarkable thing about the whole business is the quiet wayin which the British and United States Governments have accepted theGerman authorities' explanation."

  Thompson, Bennett, and young Stirling were seated in the former'ssanctum at _The Westminster Daily Record's_ offices, just offWhitehall.

  "Well, what else could they do under the circumstances?" askedBennett. "They couldn't very well tell His Imperial Majesty that hewas telling a deliberate untruth; now, could they?"

  "Hardly. No, it's the old story--international diplomacy, which,reduced to its simplest form, means which party can tell the biggestlie without being found out."

  "But we've proof," objected Bennett. "Why on earth wasn't the GermanAdmiralty asked to produce the alleged spies in spite of theirassurances?"

  Thompson shrugged his shoulders.

  "What actual proof have we?" he asked. "Only a letter from a Germansailor stating that a friend of his saw Hamerton and Detroit on theisland of Heligoland on the same day as they were supposed to bewashed overboard. The fellow might have made a mistake, all in goodfaith, or he might be playing the fool with Stirling."

  "But there's the instance of the German destroyer persistentlycruising off the Dollart. That tallies with Pfeil's statement thatthe _Diomeda_ was to be taken possession of and brought back toHeligoland," persisted the editor of _The Yachtsman's Journal_.

  "I quite agree with you. There seems something strange about thewhole matter," replied Thompson. "For the moment I am aself-constituted mouthpiece for our friends the enemy. Again, theGerman sailor might be mistaken; while, since a part of the Dollartis German waters, one of the torpedo-boat destroyers is quite atliberty to cruise about there, I take it."

  "Quite so," agreed Bennett affably. He was about to play his trumpcard. He paused while he lit a cigarette, and then continued: "I'vehad the tip, my dear Thompson, that the Admiralty have given ordersfor the torpedo-boat destroyer _Boxer_ to proceed from Sheerness toDelfzyl tomorrow morning, to tow the _Diomeda_ back to Lowestoft.What do you make of that, eh?"

  "Stirling," said Thompson quietly, "there's a job for you. I believeyou can be regarded as one of the yacht's crew? Good! I'll 'phone toSir Theophilus and ask him to get you a passage on the _Boxer_."

  Before two that afternoon the head of the Foreign Office obtained thenecessary permit from the Admiralty, and at six that evening GordonStirling presented himself on board the torpedo-boat destroyer_Boxer_, lying alongside Sheerness Dockyard. Three hours later thepermission of the Dutch Government for the British warship to enterDelfzyl was obtained, and at six the following morning she slippedquietly past the Garrison Fort en route for Holland.

  "Do you anticipate any trouble with the German destroyer?" askedStirling, in the course of conversation with the lieutenant-commanderof the _Boxer_.

  "No, worse luck!" replied Lieutenant Mallet. "I wish the blighterswould fight. Of course this is not for publication, but I can assureyou that there's hardly an officer or man in the British Navy who isnot as keen as mustard on the question of smashing the Teutons. It'sgot to come, mark my words, and the longer the delay the harder thejob will be."

  "And what is your private opinion about Hamerton?"

  "My private opinion is this," said the lieutenant-commander slowly:"Hamerton is as much alive as I am. For some reason, inexplicable asfar as we are concerned, the Germans are concealing his identity andthat of his friend Detroit. That's the opinion of almost everythinking man, woman, and child in the British Empire and in theUnited States. And yet, what is the result of the joint Ambassadors'Note? Dust in their eyes. And the worst part about the whole businessis that the affairs of state are in the hands of a few weak-kneed,peace-at-any-price individuals, who believe that the German is ourbest friend. I suppose I've said more than I ought; but, hang it! afellow cannot always keep his feelings bottled up. You're going backwith the yacht, I presume?" he added.

  "Yes; I am expecting to get another 'scoop'--some startling news--butit looks like a fizzle out."

  "If I could have my way I would put you ashore at Harlingen. Youcould easily get to Delfzyl by train. Then you could assist Smith inworking the yacht out to sea, and we would be cruising about ready todrop on S174 should she try any of her little tricks. Then you mighthave a 'scoop'. But orders are orders, and one-eyed Nelsons who coulddeliberately ignore signals are not to be found in the navy ofto-day."

  Just then the look-out reported land on the starboard bow.

  "The Frisian Islands," remarked the lieutenant as he made his way tothe bridge. "Another two hours will bring us within sight ofRottum--that's the Dutch island nearest to the German island ofBorkum. We'll go a little way out of the direct course and let ourfriend S174 know that there is such a thing as a White Ensign."

  "Is that Borkum?" asked Stirling of the sub-lieutenant, pointing to alow-lying island, apparently occupied by a few cottages on the sideand a row of sandhills.

  "Aye; looks harmless enough. Tucked away on the lee side of thosedunes is a regular hornet's nest of torpedo craft. Batteries, too,everywhere, and jolly well masked."

  "Don't you think it somewhat remarkable that a destroyer should besent from Heligoland to watch the movements of my friend's yacht whenBorkum is so much nearer?"

  "I do; but questions have been asked and have been answered--after afashion. The powers that be seem satisfied, and we have to accept thesituation. It's galling, but----"

  And with a deprecatory movement of his hand the sub-lieutenanthurried off to join his chief on the bridge.

  "Ting-ting!" The bridge telegraph signalled to the engine-room forhalf-speed ahead. The _Boxer_ was nearing the shoals outlying theFrisian Islands.

  "There she is!" exclaimed Mallet, removing his binoculars from hiseyes and pointing almost dead over the bows. "That's S174."

  The German destroyer was heading straight for the _Boxer_. In a veryfew minutes the two craft would be passing each other unless theGerman boat altered her course considerably.

  In obedience to a sign from the lieutenant-commander, a seaman madehis way aft to where the White Ensign floated proudly in the breeze.Uncleating the halyards he waited.

  "Port your helm," came the order. Mallet, though loath to give way,was resolved to take no risks of collision. As the British destroyerswung away a point to starboard the German followed suit; thenresuming their former course the two vessels swept past each other ata difference in speed of quite thirty-eight knots.

  Slowly, almost defiantly, the Black Cross Ensign of S174 was loweredand quickly rehoisted. The compliment was smartly returned by the_Boxer_, and ere her White Ensign was hauled up to the truck theGerman vessel was observed to be circling to starboard.

  "What's her game?" asked Mallet indignantly. "Surely she isn't goingto follow us? At any rate she won't overhaul us if I can help it."

  The lieutenant-commander's hand was on the bridge telegraph, ready togive the order for full-speed ahead, when the German destroyer shapeda course to the nor'-west. Her commander realized that his attempt torecapture the _Diomeda_ by a ruse or otherwise was a failure. Ratherthan see the yacht leave the Dollart under the convoy of a Britishwarship he preferred to return to Heligoland.

  Since the _Boxer's_ visit to Delfzyl was entirely of a privatecharacter there was no official welcome by the burgomaster.Nevertheless all the town seemed to congregate on the quay to awaitthe British destroyer's arrival.

  Smartly the _Boxer_ came alongside, and without the loss of so muchas a square inch of paint was soon moored to the jetty.

  "Ready, Mr. Smith?" asked Mallet, after Stirling had duly introducedthe skipper of the _Diomeda_ to the lieutenant-commander of thedestroyer. "Good! we'll get out a hawser at once. The tide won'tserve us much longer. The sooner we start the better, for, unless Iam very much mistaken, there's heavy weather knocking about withinfifty miles of us."

  Octavius Smi
th had, in fact, already made all preparations for the_Diomeda's_ departure. As soon as he had received a communicationfrom the Admiralty, acquainting him of the special visit of a Britishdestroyer to tow the yacht back to Lowestoft, he obtained hisclearance papers at the Custom House, reprovisioned the craft, andstowed away or securely lashed on deck every article that mightotherwise be swept overboard or damaged down below.

  "What's the game, old man?" he asked of Stirling, as the latterreturned with him to the yacht. "It seems a queer thing to do to senda destroyer solely for the purpose of towing us home. Of course I'mjolly glad, although I enjoyed my detention at Delfzyl. At the sametime the letter from the Admiralty is so emphatic on the point thatthe yacht must be brought home that I can't help fancying thatthere's more in this than meets the eye."

  "There I cannot help you," replied Stirling. "For one thing, I knowour friend S174 has cleared off. You received those papers I sent yousafely?"

  "Oh yes--thanks awfully! It was a rotten climb down on the part ofthe British and American authorities at Berlin, but I'm inclined tothink they are lying low about something."

  "I hope they are," agreed Stirling. "By the by, how have you beengetting on since I left you in the lurch?"

  "Can't complain," drawled the skipper of the _Diomeda_. "Businessfairly brisk; sent off four instalments of those idiotic'Heart-to-heart Chats' and answered a regular batch of queries fromlove-sick servant girls. And--funny thing--old Dangler wrote andasked me to contribute a series of articles on 'Art in the Home'. Ofcourse I started the wretched things, but as I couldn't get hold ofany copies of London furniture manufacturers' catalogues I was a bithung up. You can't get inspirations on 'Art in the Home' when you'recooped up in this dog-box of a cabin, can you? They'll have to waittill I get back. But there's the hawser coming aboard."

  It did not take long to get the six-inch hawser from the _Boxer_ tothe _Diomeda_, where the end was bent round the yacht's mainmastclose to the deck and securely stopped to the gammoning-iron. Thebowsprit had already been run in, so as not to have the risk of itsbeing snapped off by the tow rope in the broken waters of the NorthSea.

  The ropes that held the _Diomeda_ to the quay were cast off, thedestroyer's propellers began to churn twin columns of white foam, andthe hawser slowly tautened.

  As the _Boxer_ and her tow glided away from the wharf the usuallyphlegmatic Dutchmen raised a cheer, which compliment Smith andStirling returned by raising their caps. Then, with the speedincreased to ten knots, the _Diomeda_ followed in the wake of theBritish destroyer, homeward bound. As soon as the two craft wereoutside the Dollart the scope of the towing hawser was considerablyincreased. Nevertheless the _Diomeda_ pitched and strained in amanner that caused Smith grave misgivings.

  Although there was little wind there was a long, heavy swell thatpresaged a strong breeze, if not a gale, before many hours hadpassed.

  At sunset Smith placed the red and green navigation lights inposition, satisfied himself that the hawser was not being chafed bythe stemhead, and, having given the tiller into his companion'scharge, went below to prepare supper.

  Five minutes later he was up on deck again.

  "Blessed if I can stick down below," he remarked. "I never felt somuch like being seasick in my life. The motion is too rotten forwords. It will mean an all-night watch on deck. Of course if you careto go below you can."

  "Thanks, I'd rather not," replied Stirling, realizing that he stoodlittle chance against the attacks of _mal de mer_ when Smith had beenforced to admit defeat.

  "Very well. I'll hand up the oilskins. There's a stiff breeze pipingup already."

  With alarming rapidity the wind increased, blowing two points abaftthe beam to starboard. At midnight it was half a gale. In spite ofthe speed of the towed yacht crested waves repeatedly broke inboard,till the cockpit was frequently filled with water almost to the levelof the seat on the port side.

  "Hang on to that lamp," shouted Smith, who had taken Stirling's placeat the helm. "We may want it. I wish they would slow down; this paceis a jolly sight too hot."

  His comrade was just in time to lift the signalling lamp from abracket on the after side of the bulkhead when a vicious sea pouredinboard. The stem dipped, then, jerked forward by the strain of thetowrope, the yacht plunged her bows under till there was solid wateras far aft as the mainmast. Just then the hawser parted like a pieceof pack-thread, and the _Diomeda_ was drifting helplessly under barepoles in the midst of the angry sea.