Billy Barcroft, R.N.A.S.: A Story of the Great War

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER XVI

  CAPTIVES IN A SUBMARINE

  ON being hauled on board the German submarine Fuller and Kirkwoodwere sternly ordered to go below, their captors indicating a smallhatchway fifteen feet for'ard of the conning-tower.

  The prisoners had no option. They descended the almost verticalsteel ladder and found themselves in practically the bow compartmentof the vessel. It was the crew space of the submarine mine-layer,for the craft, on which was painted the number UC49, was not fittedwith torpedo tubes, nor did she carry guns of the "disappearingmountings" type. Her part was to sneak out of the Elbe, cruise onthe surface whenever practicable, diving only when any strangevessel hove in sight. Her cargo had consisted of forty metalcylinders stowed aft--mines of the most recent type--but having sownher harvest of death and destruction, regardless whether an enemy ora neutral vessel fell a victim to the deadly peril, she was on herway back to the Fatherland.

  The compartment in which Fuller and his companion found themselveswas about thirty feet in length and fifteen at its maximum diameter,which was at the after end. For'ard it tapered, at first gradually,then sharply, until it terminated at a bulkhead close to the bows.In the lower part of the recess were the anchors and cables, capableof being lowered or hauled by means of elaborate mechanism which wascontrolled from within. The upper portion of the bow compartmentconsisted of a large fresh-water tank. Round the crew space werelockers that served a double purpose: besides containing the effectsof the men they were used as seats. Hooks were bolted to thecambered deck-beams in order to sling hammocks--in fact, half adozen hammocks were at that time occupied--and mess-tables.

  Against the after bulkhead was a small partitioned-off place thatserved as the cook's galley, the stove being heated by electricity.While running awash the fumes were carried off by means of a funnelthat projected a few inches above the deck, which was fitted with awatertight cover that could be operated from the conning-tower whenthe submarine was trimmed for diving. Yet in spite of theventilation the place reeked vilely of a variety of odours. Fullerwondered what the atmosphere must be like when UC49 was submerged.

  In addition to the sleeping occupants of the hammocks, who by theirrestlessness even in slumber showed signs of the mental strain, thecrew space was occupied by three fairhaired, fresh-featuredFrisians, who regarded the captives with scant curiosity and, afterthe first five minutes, seemed to ignore the Englishmen entirely.

  "May as well make the best of things," remarked Fuller. "I know theropes a bit--been through it before. Take your wet clothes off, oldman. Keep a tight hold of your personal gear. We'll see if we can'tpersuade that fat chap in the galley to put our things to dry."

  "They would dry on us in this hot show," observed Kirkwood. "Supposewe are sent for?"

  "Then we are," added the flight-lieutenant grimly. "We'll have togrin and bear it. All the same, I'm not going to act as a humanclothes horse while my gear is drying, so here goes."

  The German cook seemed anxious to oblige, in spite of a mutteredprotest from one of the crew.

  "My broder on der 'Blucher' vos," he explained. "Englische him pickup and well treat. Him write an' tell me so. Thus your clothes makedry."

  Although the hatchway was closed and secured the submarine was stillrunning awash, lifting sluggishly as she forged ahead at a modestfifteen knots. A couple of hours passed, and no attempt was made onthe part of the vessel's officers to interrogate their prisoners.

  "For one thing we are clothed and, let us hope, in our right minds,"observed Fuller as the pair redressed in their now dry clothing,dispensing, however, with their leather jackets, which were as stiffas a board and white with sea-salt.

  "Much more of this would drive me out of my mind," protestedKirkwood. "Give me the freedom of the air any day. Suppose this oldhooker bumps into a mine?"

  "Pull yourself together, man," said the flight-lieutenant sharply."It's all one big risk, I admit, but for heaven's sake don't givethese fellows a chance to think we've cold feet!"

  The A.P. stiffened his upper lip.

  "By Jove, I won't!" he exclaimed.

  "The youngster has good cause for concern," soliloquised Fuller."This old tub wouldn't stand a cat's chance if anything went wrong.She's one of those craft that's made by the fathom and cut off whererequired, I should imagine. Never saw such rough work in all mylife. And no sign of air-locks or any lifesaving devices. I supposesuch details don't worry the German Admiralty. Those leaking jointsremind me of the old Tower Hill subway. A coat of whitewash and gasjets instead of the electric light would make the illusioncomplete."

  His reveries were interrupted by a sliding door in the afterbulkhead being opened. The German seamen sprang to their feet andstood rigidly at attention as a young, heavily-built unter-leutnantappeared and beckoned the prisoners to follow him.

  Stepping over the sill of the watertight door Fuller and hiscompanion found themselves in the officers' quarters--a compartmentextending the whole width of the vessel, and separated from theengine-room by another bulkhead. The cabin was plainly furnished butwith a certain degree of comfort. On either side were two curtainedbunks. A swinging table occupied the centre of the floor, with fourrevolving arm-chairs, the feet of which were clamped to prevent thembeing capsized in heavy weather. Against the after bulkhead were twobookshelves and a folding wash-basin, while between them was aladder communicating with the conning-tower. On the for'ard bulkheadwere voice-tubes and telephones for conveying orders to variousparts of the vessel, also gauges of various descriptions similar tothose in the conning-tower, so that the commander, when not on duty,could know what was going on without having to hail the navigatingofficer. In the arched ceiling was an illuminated tell-tale compass.

  "North 88 east," said Fuller to himself, as he read the magneticbearing. "She's making for the Elbe or the Weser, I'll swear."

  "There is no need for you to trouble about the course," said abroad-shouldered officer dressed in the uniform of a kapitan-leutnantof the Imperial German Navy. "That is our affair. Now, tell me--nolies, mind--what is your name?"

  Fuller met the penetrating eye of his examiner without flinching,yet he realised he was "up against" a sharp Teuton, who, by hiscommand of the English language, had evidently an intimate andfirst-hand knowledge of his enemy's country.

  It was, Fuller knew, futile to dissemble. The fact that Kirkwood andhe were missing would be revealed by the British Admiralty casualtylist. Neither would any good purpose be attained by refusing toreply to any questions that could be answered without giving usefulinformation to the Huns.

  "John Fuller, flight-lieutenant, H.M.S. 'Hippodrome,'" he repliedpromptly.

  "So? Then let me offer my congratulations at you again becoming theguest of the Imperial German Government," rejoined thekapitan-leutnant sarcastically. "I do not think you will escapeagain, Mr. Fuller. Since Sylt was too easy a place of captivity youwill most a certainly be sent inland when we arrive in harbour--somewhere a very long way from the convenient neutral port ofEsbjerg. Now, I suppose it is of no use asking you under whatcircumstances you were brought down?"

  "Engine failure owing to the petrol tank being perforated."

  "Ach! How far from the coast? And what part of the coast? Did youascend from a ship or from a harbour?"

  Fuller shook his head.

  "I cannot say," he replied.

  The German took the refusal quite in good part.

  "I do not blame you for refusing," he remarked. "Any brave man, behe German or English, would do the same. Now, sir, am I to have anybetter luck with you? Your name?"

  The A.P. told him his name and rank, but resolutely declined tocommit himself on other points. His captor merely grunted with theair of a man who has been given information of little or nointerest. Kirkwood had not broken out of a German prison. Comparedwith the redoubtable Fuller he was a nonentity in the eyes of thekapitan-leutnant.

  A gong clanged noisily in the conning-tower, its verberationsoutvoicing the pulsations of the oil-fed mot
ors. Without a word thesubmarine's commander sprang to the ladder and, ascending, leftFuller and his companion in misfortune standing at the foot of thetable.

  A hoarse order, followed by the heavy pattering of sea,--boots uponthe deck and the metallic clash of water-tight hatches being closed,denoted that UC49 was being trimmed for diving.

  Fuller felt a hand tap him on the shoulder.

  "Get you outside!" ordered the young unter-leutnant, indicating thefor'ard compartment.

  Barely had the prisoners regained their place of confinement thanthe bulkhead door was shut, a slight yet distinctly perceptible listannouncing that the submarine was diving. The fore-peak was nowuncomfortably crowded, for the "watch on deck," unable to remain anylonger on deck, had come below at the order to trim ship for diving.One and all looked drawn and anxious. Unlike their brethren in thenon-mine-laying submarines they had practically nothing to do. Theexcitement of being able to launch a torpedo at a British ship, beshe naval vessel or merchantman, was denied them. They were, infact, nothing more than passive individuals cooped up in the shellof a submerged craft, unable to see what was going on without, andhelpless to save themselves in the event of the submarine beingrammed.

  For quite a minute the obliquely downward plunge was maintained, thevessel the while turning sharply to starboard. Then, pitchingslightly to the violent displacement of a volume of water, sheresumed her normal trim at a depth of ten fathoms beneath thesurface.

  The action of porting helm had undoubtedly saved the mine-layingsubmarine. An alert British patrol boat had sighted her from afar,and at a rate resembling that of a train had charged down upon thespot where UC49 had disappeared, while trailing astern at the end ofan insulated cable was an explosive grapnel of sufficient power toshatter the submarine's hull like an egg-shell.

  The skipper of the patrol boat had made due calculations to ensure,as he thought, the destruction of his prey, but he had not reckonedupon the UC49 changing course as she dived. As it was, the explosivegrapnel passed within a couple of yards of the submerged vessel'sbeam.

  Of this Fuller and his companion knew nothing. Perhaps, for theirstate of mind, it was as well. A man will bravely face death at thehands of his foe, but he will jib at the idea of being "snuffed out"by his own side.

  Slowly the minutes passed. UC49 was still running submerged,increasing the depth to twenty fathoms and maintaining a zig-zagcourse in order to baffle her pursuer. The German seamen werebeginning to breathe more freely. The worst part of thebusiness--the great risk of being rammed as she dived--was over, andalthough under the enormous pressure jets of water were hissingthrough the faulty joints the men realised that they stood more thana fighting chance of evading destruction.

  For perhaps five hours UC49 blindly made her way under the waves.The captives had lost all count of time. Their watches had stoppedowing to their immersion when the seaplane was sunk; there was noclock in the fore compartment nor were the bells struck in thecustomary style on board. But at length, after a seeminglyinterminable interval, the order was given to empty the auxiliarywater ballast tanks. Simultaneously the floor assumed a list--thistime in a contrary direction.

  Then, without warning, the fairly regular throb of the electricmotors gave place to a discordant jar that shook the hull from endto end.

  "Main shaft gone, for a dead cert," exclaimed Kirkwood. "I rememberthe same thing occurring on the 'Tremendous's' picket-boat Yes,they're switching off."

  The mine-layer was helpless. Without means of propulsion there wereonly two courses open to her--to float or sink to the bottom. It wasimpossible to keep submerged to a certain depth simply by means ofadmitting a certain quantity of water ballast. Once the reserve ofbuoyancy was overcome she would sink to the bed of the North Sea, inall probability collapsing under the terrific pressure on her hulllong before she arrived there. It is only by means of the divingrudders acting in conjunction with her diving trim that a submarinecan remain submerged to a required depth; and since thekapitan-leutnant of UC49 had no desire to make the acquaintance ofthe floor of the ocean other than by means of an "armed" lead-line,he chose the other alternative and rose to the surface.

  The moment the fore hatch was removed the watch rushed on deck.There was a lot of scuffling and shouting of orders, accompanied bythe clanking of the auxiliary motors actuating the bilge pumps. Whenthe main shaft fractured--the submarine had only one "screw"--thepropeller had flown off, taking with it the broken tail shaft andstraining the stuffing-box to such an extent that water pouredthrough the glands. The pumps were just able to cope with theinrush. Should they choke or otherwise get out of order the vesselwould promptly founder.

  Another order was given. Those of the crew who still remained belowhurriedly collected their personal belongings and went on deck,while their place was taken by their companions who, following theirexample, set to work to "pack up" their scanty bundles. In fiveminutes the crew space was untenanted save by Fuller and Kirkwood.

  "It strikes me very forcibly that we had better be clearing out ofthis rat-hole," suggested the former, "If we don't we'll beoverlooked, and I don't suppose the Huns will mind that."

  The two chums ascended the ladder and gained the platform in frontof the conning-tower. Here were about a dozen of the crew, a similarnumber being stationed aft. The officers were grouped amidships,their attention fixed upon some distant object which they wereexamining through their glasses. The chug-chug of the pumpscontinued, showing that some of the engine-room staff were stillstanding by the auxiliary machinery.

  "Hurrah!" exclaimed Kirkwood. "A couple of our destroyers. No Germanprison for us this trip."

  Several of the German seamen hearing the exclamation regarded theA.P. angrily; otherwise they offered no objection to the prisonersbeing on deck. The kapitan-leutnant, also overhearing Bobby'sexpression of satisfaction, lowered his binoculars and glared at theirrepressible Briton. Then he raised the glasses again and scannedthe horizon, finishing up his scrutiny by keeping the on-comingcraft under observation.

  For half a minute he looked steadfastly at the approachingdestroyers, then he gave an order to a man standing by thediminutive mast.

  Promptly the sailor hoisted the Black Cross Ensign, but whether as atoken of defiance or otherwise the British officers were unable todecide. But they were not long left in ignorance.

  "You are a little too hasty in your surmise, Mr. Englishman,"sneered the kapitan-leutnant. "You will yet sample the joys of aGerman prison. These are two of our torpedo-boats."