The Mystery Ship: A Story of the 'Q' Ships During the Great War

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER XIV

  A DOUBLE DECOY

  "GUN-FIRE!" exclaimed Lieutenant-Commander Morpeth, sniffing the saltair like an alert terrier scenting a rat.

  "Away to the south-east'ard," corroborated Wakefield. "Is this goingto be one of your lucky days, George?"

  "It won't be for the want of trying," rejoined the R.N. R. mangrimly; then bending till his lips nearly touched the mouth of thevoice tube, he shouted, "Stand by, below there, to whack her up."

  A few crisp orders followed. Men moved swiftly and silently to theirappointed stations, while the course was altered a couple of pointsto take Q 171 to the scene of the supposed action.

  It was the second day of Wakefield's and Meredith's enforced but nonethe less interesting detention on board the mystery ship. Q 171 waswell out into the North Sea, bound for a certain position a few milesto the west'ard of the now famous Horn Reefs Lightship. The sea wascalm, a light breeze blew from the west'ard, while the sky was filledwith small fleecy clouds drifting slowly athwart the lowerair-currents--an indication of a forthcoming change of wind.

  The three officers, clad in black oilskins to keep up the rôle ofHun pirates, had been sitting on the cambered edge of the base of thedummy conning-tower, yarning of times not long gone and holding forthwondrous theories of what might happen in the seemingly far distantepoch after the war.

  "Small quick-firers," declared Morpeth, as the rumble of the sharpreports grew louder and louder. "None of our M.L.'s in action by anychance, I hope?"

  Slinging his binoculars round his neck, Morpeth, with an agility thathis ponderous frame belied, clambered to the domed top of theconning-tower, reckless of the fact that his weight was causing thefrail metal-work to "give" ominously.

  Bringing his glasses to bear upon a faint dot just on the horizon,Morpeth made a long and steady scrutiny.

  "Merchant vessel--tramp, by the look of her--chased by a Fritz," hereported, "Unhealthy work--for Fritz. I'll keep her on my lee bow abit. It's no use butting in too soon. Too much dashed hurry spoilseverything."

  At sixteen knots Q 171 held on, with the apparent object of joiningin the chase and cutting off the fleeing merchantman. Quickly thechase came in sight--a bluff-bowed, wall-sided tramp, with anelaborately camouflaged hull.

  "Confounded scheme that razzle-dazzle," commented Morpeth. "Meetthree or four in a crowded waterway, and you begin to wonder whetheryou'll see mother again. Can't tell whether they are bows on, orwhat. Fancy we've got her cold, though. For'ard gun, let her haveit."

  The bow-chaser spat viciously, sending a shrieking missile within ahundred yards of the tramp, which, badly on fire aft, was stillproudly flying the Red Ensign. Her funnel, hit about six feet abovethe deck, was showing signs of collapse, being supported only by thewire rope guys. Making a bare eight knots, she was evidently at themercy of the pursuing U-boat, which, capable of doing eighteen on thesurface, was slowing down after the manner of a cat playing with amouse.

  Q 171, firing rapidly, but deliberately planting her shells wide ofthe merchant vessel, now turned twelve points to port. This had theeffect of bringing her into a decidedly convergent course with thatof the U-boat. The latter, probably "smelling a rat," or takingexception to what appeared to be another of her kind "spoiling thegame," edged away to starboard, at the same time hoisting a signal.

  By the aid of the appropriated German Naval Code Book, Q 171'sskipper deciphered the signal. It was a peremptory request for thepseudo U-boat to make her number and thus proclaim her identity.

  This was easily done. A four letter hoist of bunting fluttered from Q171's mast, giving the information that she was U 251 of the ImperialGerman Navy.

  "This is my prize," signalled the dog-in-the-manger Fritz.

  "I have good reasons for joining in the chase," was Morpeth's reply.

  During the lengthy exchange of flag messages, both boats hadmaintained a hot fire upon the tramp. From the genuine U-boat theresult of Q 171's shells could not be observed. Had the Huns beenable to do so, they would have expressed considerable surprise attheir supposed consort's decidedly erratic gunnery; but in the heatof rivalry they became reckless.

  Almost imperceptibly, Q 171 lessened the distance between her and herprey. The tramp was two miles ahead, while barely half a mileseparated the U-boat and the decoy.

  "Stand by the tubes!" ordered Morpeth, at the same time motioning toWakefield and Meredith to step clear of the rails.

  Meredith felt a distinctly unpleasant sensation in his throat.Perspiration oozed from his forehead. Fascinated, he watched thealert faces of the men standing by the mechanism that was to lay barethe deadly torpedo-tubes.

  "Let her have it!" shouted Morpeth.

  With hardly a rumble, the dummy conning-tower rolled over thewell-oiled rails, revealing the triple tubes trained abeam upon theirprey. The next instant the glistening cigar-shaped missiles leaptover the side and disappeared in a welter of foam.

  Travelling at the rate of an express train under the impulse of smallbut powerful electric motors, the torpedoes took very little time tocover the intervening distance. So intent were the Huns at shellingthe tramp that they failed to notice the tracks of the sinisterweapons until, with an appalling roar, two of them explodedsimultaneously and thirty yards apart against the U-boat's hull.

  Morpeth gave a grunt of satisfaction as he watched the tall column ofwater break and fall in a shower of smoke-mingled spray.

  "Simple--quite simple," he remarked; then, observing Meredith's whiteface, he clapped the young officer on the shoulder.

  "Cheer up!" he ejaculated. "Nothing to look white about the gills....When you've been on the game as long as I have, and seen what anutter bounder Fritz is, you'll understand."

  With the discharge of the torpedoes Q 171 altered helm and resumedher former course. Morpeth meant to take no chances by revealing hisidentity to the tramp. He preferred to let the crew of the merchantvessel think that the disaster of her supposed consort hadeffectually put the wind up the second U-boat. Q 171 was a mysteryship, and once her true character was known the story would be allover the first port at which the tramp touched. And, after all, itwas not a very far cry from an East Coast port to Berlin in war time,and benevolent neutrals had an unfortunate liking for spreadingreports, true or otherwise, of what they saw and heard in Britishharbours.

  A sudden ejaculation from Morpeth attracted Meredith's attention. TheR.N.R. man was pointing with outstretched arm in the direction of thetramp.

  He had good reason for astonishment. The apparently badly batteredtramp had swung round and was forging through the water at highspeed--possibly a good twenty-five knots. The Red Ensign had beenstruck, and the White Ensign streamed proudly in the breeze.

  "Look alive there!" shouted Morpeth. "Up with our rag, or they'll beplanking a four-point-seven into us. Hanged if she isn't a Q-boattoo!"

  The R.N.R. man was right concerning the rôle of the oncoming ship;but he was wrong in his surmise as to her intentions. Her skipper hadnoticed that the shells fired from the second U-boat had purposelygone wide, he had spotted the uncovered torpedo-tubes on her deck,and had seen the sudden disintegration of U-boat No. 1.Metaphorically speaking, he was foaming at the mouth.

  A hoist of bunting rose to the masthead of the approaching vessel."Heave-to; I wish to communicate," read the signal.

  Morpeth rang for "half speed" and then "stop." He turned toWakefield.

  "Now's your chance to get a lift back," he remarked.

  "Fancy I'll hang on," replied the late skipper of M.L. 1071. "A dayor two won't make much difference. Had I been ashore I suppose theS.N.O. would have packed me off on leave."

  "And you, my festive?" inquired Morpeth, addressing Meredith.

  "I'm following my senior officer's lead," replied the Sub promptly.

  "As regards your men, I'll put them on board if she'll have 'em,"continued Morpeth. "It'll relieve the pressure on the grub locker.Hope they won't kag too much about us, though."

  "I
don't think so," replied Wakefield, who had great faith in thesound sense of his crew.

  "But after all it won't matter so very much," added the R.N.R.officer. "By the time they get ashore my little stunt will, I hope,be a back number. Now, let's see what this camouflaged blighter hasto say."

  The Q-boat had now ranged up within fifty or sixty feet of her smallco-worker. Men, rigged out in the nondescript garments affected bythe Mercantile Marine, were clustered for'ard, while a couple ofstalwart individuals, rigged out in pilot-coats, serge trousers andsea-boots, were leaning over the side abreast the mainmast.

  "Dash you, you meddling bounder!" roared one of the latter. "Whatd'ye mean by butting in and spoiling our sport? D'ye think we stood agruelling for four mortal hours just for the fun of seeing you giveFritz socks? An' we had her nicely within range when you let rip."

  "Sorry," replied Morpeth apologetically, "But how the blazes was I toknow?"

  "You'd have known quick enough if we had shown our teeth," repliedthe other grimly. "Three of my men killed and six wounded, andnothing to show for it."

  "So I suppose when I fall in with a genuine tramp being chased by aFritz, I'll just carry on?" inquired Morpeth caustically.

  "I won't say that," replied the other. His wrath was fastevaporating. He was beginning to realise that, after all, cooperationwas the thing, and that rivalry, except of the healthy order, wasdetrimental to the great work in hand. "When all's said and done,it's something to think that we took you in. At first I thought youwere a Fritz: your get-up was so good. But I say, isn't your nameMorpeth--Geordie Morpeth?"

  "I have a notion that you've hit the right nail on the head," repliedthe skipper Of Q 171. "But I'm dashed if I can call your face tomind!"

  "Met you in Rio in January '12," announced the other, with a typicalsailorman's memory for dates. "You were in the _Humming-Bird_. I wason the _Glaucis_, second mate at the time."

  "By Jove!" exclaimed Morpeth, "you're Bellairs. I didn't recogniseyou; you've altered some."

  "Hardly recognise myself at times," remarked Bellairs. "If you wantto age rapidly, try a trick in a Q-boat. I see you're trying italready. Well, I must be pushing along. I'm making for Newcastle,after three weeks off the Lofoden Islands. Fritz was pretty busy inNorwegian waters, but I guess he's put up his shutters for a time atleast. We've driven a few nails into his coffin."

  "Left one or two for me, I hope?" remarked Morpeth. "But look here,can you give a passage to a few hands?"

  "A few," agreed Bellairs guardedly. "How many?"

  Morpeth told him.

  "I've also two officers on board," he added. "They wish to stay andhave a rest cure. I'm doing my best to educate 'em at the same time."

  The other R.N.R. man laughed. "Right-o!" he exclaimed. "If youeducate 'em like you did the youngsters on the _Humming-Bird_ I cansee them writing home to mother about you."

  "Hear that?" inquired Morpeth, turning to Wakefield and Meredith."Old man Bellairs evidently thinks I'm a tough nut. Hope Fritz'llthink so too; that's the thing that counts."