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

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER XXX

  A NIGHT OF COINCIDENCES

  IT was late on the following day when Meredith and his companions,together with close on six hundred naval ratings and a correspondingquantity of kit and baggage, found themselves dumped down upon theplatform at Thurso. The long Highland night had fallen, bringing withit wind and rain in plenty, and altogether things looked too desolatefor words. It was bitterly cold, too, and occasionally driftingflakes of snow eddied in the howling wind.

  "Cheerful sort of show, this!" exclaimed Wakefield, as he buttonedthe storm-flap of his waterproof coat. "Can't say I like the idea ofthis part as a cruising-ground. Auldhaig was bad enough at times, butthis!"

  "Wonder our fellows could stick it, summer and winter, for over four,years," remarked Meredith. "Hark at the roar of the surf! AndThurso's in a bay, isn't it?"

  For the most part the bluejackets were accepting the conditions withthe same equanimity as when they fall in on the lower deck fordinner. Clad in glistening oilskins, and gripping their bundles, theyformed up and marched off to a long shed to partake of refreshment,laughing and cutting jokes like overgrown schoolboys.

  The officers, too, were sorting themselves out and drifting away insearch of a repast. Their baggage was left to take care of itself.Far from the Metropolis, and free from the inconveniences of being atthe mercy of opulent and independent porters, Thurso was run strictlyon Service lines. There was no necessity on the part of the owners toworry about their luggage. Under the supervision of a "baggageofficer" a crowd of bluejackets threw themselves upon the weirdassortment of "officers' effects," and in due course the luggage,marshalled and sorted, would be transferred to various tenders forconveyance to the Fleet.

  Presently the refreshment-rooms disgorged their temporary occupants.Voices in the night were heard shouting, "Men for _Furious_ fall in.""_Iron Dukes_ to the right." "Ninth Destroyer Flotilla men, thisway"--until the hitherto jumbled crowd of humanity was formed up intoa distinct semblance of order.

  In fours the bluejackets marched along the pier to embark on varioustugs and harbour craft that were to take them to their respectiveships across the wild Pentland Firth, their movements regulated by abull-throated piermaster, whose capacity for organisation alone,apart from the cap, greatcoat and sea-boots, would have proclaimedhim to be a naval officer.

  At frequent intervals he would be interrupted to answer questions byharassed officers and men, yet with the ease of a Cook's courier hewould supply the necessary information and then revert to his maintask of supervising the embarkation.

  "M.L.'s?" he exclaimed, in answer to Wakefield's query. "Takepassage in _Growler_. She's lying at No. 3 berth.... What's that?Beach-master at Skelda Holm? H'm! let me see. Yes! you'd better carryon with the M.L. party. You'll find a duty boat at Scapa."

  "So we don't part company yet awhile," said Morpeth. "Lead on,Wakefield, and let's get out of the rain. I can stick plenty of saltspray, but I'm hanged if I like this."

  They found the _Growler_, a tubby twin-screw tug, grinding againstthe pier, massive rope fenders notwithstanding. On board were half adozen R.N.V.R. officers and about fifty men. The former eyed thenewcomers keenly, as if expecting to find former acquaintances.

  "Give us your paw, laddie. I am delighted to see you," exclaimed ahearty voice, as a big, muscular hand gripped Meredith's shoulder."Bless me, and Wakefield too!"

  "McIntosh!" ejaculated Meredith. "What are you doing here?"

  "I'll tell ye all in guid time," replied the R.N.V.R. officer, whoseshoulder-straps denoted that he was a Sub no longer but a full-blownlieutenant. "But just tell me: where's that golf club of mine I gaveyou to mend?"

  "'Fraid it's at the bottom of the North Sea," replied Meredith. "'Allgoods left at owner's risk,' you know. But tell me when did you leaveAuldhaig?"

  "Last May," replied Jock gloomily. "After I lost that confoundedlighter my name was Mud. They gave me an M.L., but she's a swine.She's known as the _Scapa Misfit_--an' she is," he added bitterly."There's been three fires in the galley--petrol stoves are acurse--once I stove her bows in 'cause the rudder chains jammed, andnow she's laid up with a fractured cylinder. Hope she is still!"

  "Chuck it, you bloomin' pessimist!" exclaimed Wakefield boisterously."Say you re glad to see us----"

  "I did," declared McIntosh. "And my Sub! He's what you'd call aknock-out. I'll swop with you, Meredith. P'raps you could makesomething of him--give him poison, or muzzle him, or shanghai him."

  "What's he done?" asked Kenneth.

  Before Jock McIntosh could go very far into the reasons whySub-lieutenant Jasper Clinch was the bane of his existence, thepiermaster came hurrying along the jetty.

  "Too bad outside," he yelled, addressing the skipper of the tug."We've just got orders to transfer the men to Wick. It will be aneasier passage."

  The master of the _Growler_ signified acquiescence. He gave a jerk atthe engine-room telegraph, shouted "Finished with the engines,George!" and descended the bridge with the air of a man who hassuddenly come into a small fortune. In his case it was a stroke ofrattling good luck. Expecting a tempestuous trip across the swirling"Swilkie"--one of the most dangerous "tidal races" round the BritishIsles--he was greatly surprised and relieved to find that his ordershad been countermanded.

  One man's meat is another man's poison. This axiom was clearlydemonstrated when the order came for all officers and men todisembark, entrain once more, and proceed to Wick--a railway journeyof about twenty miles, tedious enough when tacked on to long hours oftravelling.

  Upon arrival at Wick another surprise awaited Wakefield and Meredith,for on the pier-head they encountered Jefferson and Pyecroft.

  "Cheerio!" exclaimed Jefferson. "So we are to be shipmates again!Hope neither of us is a Jonah this trip. D'ye remember that oldlighter?"

  "Yes, rather," replied Meredith. "Coincidences are tumbling over oneanother tonight. McIntosh, let me introduce you to Jefferson andPyecroft. They picked up the X-barge you lost."

  "They were welcome to her," remarked McIntosh. "So you fellows sawthe inside of a U-boat?"

  "Yes," admitted Jefferson. "I did. Pyecroft, here, preferred a swimin the North Sea. By the by, Meredith, old Cumberleigh's knockingaround somewhere. He was on the pier five minutes ago. We're off toStenness Air Station--it's not far from Scapa--for aerialobservation duties. Hello! This our boat?"

  A large, two-funnelled vessel was approaching the jetty, her decksdeserted save for a few muffled and greatcoated passengers. Usuallyshe brought a full complement of liberty men from the Grand Fleet,but now, in anticipation of a move on the part of the Hun Navy, allleave had been stopped.

  "Better than crossing in a tug," commented Wakefield. "And we'll beunder the lee of the land till we clear Duncansbay Head. Hello!here's Cumberleigh. Cheerio!"

  Greetings were exchanged between the R.A.F. captain and the R.N.V.R.officers, while Morpeth came in for a fair share of congratulations.

  "Thank goodness I found my sea-legs aboard your old hooker, Morpeth,"remarked Cumberleigh. "My word, there's a swell running!"

  The steamer made fast. The wire hawsers were made fast and thegangways run out.

  "Bless my soul," ejaculated McIntosh, pointing to a cloaked figuredescending the gangway, "'if that isn't my Sub! Wonder what he'sdoing here?"

  He detached himself from the crowd and confronted Sub-lieutenantJasper Clinch.

  "Hello, Sub!" he exclaimed. "Got leave?"

  "No," was the reply. "No such luck. The S.N.O. ordered me toAuldhaig. There's a Court of Inquiry about something. Has the trainleft yet?"

  Jefferson nudged Cumberleigh in the ribs.

  "Good enough!" exclaimed the R.A.F. captain, and to the surprise ofeveryone standing around, the two officers literally leapt at theastounded Clinch.

  Before the latter had time to consider the situation he was lying onhis back on the wet and muddy jetty, with Cumberleigh sitting on hischest and Jefferson gripping his ankles.

  "Find the A.P.M., somebody," exc
laimed Cumberleigh in an exultanttone; "or a picquet will answer the purpose. Now then, CaptainFennelburt, or whatever you call yourself--no, don't wriggle, it'sbad form--there's no need to worry about the Auldhaig train. You'llsoon be in safe quarters, my festive!"