Chapter XVI: Captives in a Submarine

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

The prisoners had no option. They descended the almost vertical steel ladder and found themselves in practically the bow compartment of the vessel. It was the crew space of the submarine mine-layer, for the craft, on which was painted the number UC49, was not fitted with torpedo tubes, nor did she carry guns of the "disappearing mountings" type. Her part was to sneak out of the Elbe, cruise on the surface whenever practicable, diving only when any strange vessel hove in sight. Her cargo had consisted of forty metal cylinders stowed aft--mines of the most recent type--but having sown her harvest of death and destruction, regardless whether an enemy or a neutral vessel fell a victim to the deadly peril, she was on her way back to the Fatherland.

The compartment in which Fuller and his companion found themselves was 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, capable of being lowered or hauled by means of elaborate mechanism which was controlled from within. The upper portion of the bow compartment consisted of a large fresh-water tank. Round the crew space were lockers that served a double purpose: besides containing the effects of the men they were used as seats. Hooks were bolted to the cambered deck-beams in order to sling hammocks--in fact, half a dozen hammocks were at that time occupied--and mess-tables.

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

In addition to the sleeping occupants of the hammocks, who by their restlessness even in slumber showed signs of the mental strain, the crew space was occupied by three fairhaired, fresh-featured Frisians, who regarded the captives with scant curiosity and, after the first five minutes, seemed to ignore the Englishmen entirely.

"May as well make the best of things," remarked Fuller. "I know the ropes a bit--been through it before. Take your wet clothes off, old man. Keep a tight hold of your personal gear. We'll see if we can't persuade that fat chap in the galley to put our things to dry."

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

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

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

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

Although the hatchway was closed and secured the submarine was still running awash, lifting sluggishly as she forged ahead at a modest fifteen knots. A couple of hours passed, and no attempt was made on the 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 stiff as a board and white with sea-salt.

"Much more of this would drive me out of my mind," protested Kirkwood. "Give me the freedom of the air any day. Suppose this old hooker 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 give these 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 where required, I should imagine. Never saw such rough work in all my life. And no sign of air-locks or any lifesaving devices. I suppose such details don't worry the German Admiralty. Those leaking joints remind me of the old Tower Hill subway. A coat of whitewash and gas jets instead of the electric light would make the illusion complete."

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

Stepping over the sill of the watertight door Fuller and his companion found themselves in the officers' quarters--a compartment extending the whole width of the vessel, and separated from the engine-room by another bulkhead. The cabin was plainly furnished but with a certain degree of comfort. On either side were two curtained bunks. A swinging table occupied the centre of the floor, with four revolving arm-chairs, the feet of which were clamped to prevent them being capsized in heavy weather. Against the after bulkhead were two bookshelves and a folding wash-basin, while between them was a ladder communicating with the conning-tower. On the for'ard bulkhead were voice-tubes and telephones for conveying orders to various parts of the vessel, also gauges of various descriptions similar to those in the conning-tower, so that the commander, when not on duty, could know what was going on without having to hail the navigating officer. In the arched ceiling was an illuminated tell-tale compass.

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

"There is no need for you to trouble about the course," said a broad-shouldered officer dressed in the uniform of a kapitan-leutnant of the Imperial German Navy. "That is our affair. Now, tell me--no lies, 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 his command of the English language, had evidently an intimate and first-hand knowledge of his enemy's country.

It was, Fuller knew, futile to dissemble. The fact that Kirkwood and he were missing would be revealed by the British Admiralty casualty list. Neither would any good purpose be attained by refusing to reply to any questions that could be answered without giving useful information to the Huns.

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

"So? Then let me offer my congratulations at you again becoming the guest of the Imperial German Government," rejoined the kapitan-leutnant sarcastically. "I do not think you will escape again, Mr. Fuller. Since Sylt was too easy a place of captivity you will most a certainly be sent inland when we arrive in harbour-- somewhere a very long way from the convenient neutral port of Esbjerg. Now, I suppose it is of no use asking you under what circumstances 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 you ascend 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, be he German or English, would do the same. Now, sir, am I to have any better luck with you? Your name?"

The A.P. told him his name and rank, but resolutely declined to commit himself on other points. His captor merely grunted with the air of a man who has been given information of little or no interest. Kirkwood had not broken out of a German prison. Compared with the redoubtable Fuller he was a nonentity in the eyes of the kapitan-leutnant.

A gong clanged noisily in the conning-tower, its verberations outvoicing the pulsations of the oil-fed motors. Without a word the submarine's commander sprang to the ladder and, ascending, left Fuller and his companion in misfortune standing at the foot of the table.

A hoarse order, followed by the heavy pattering of sea,--boots upon the 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 the for'ard compartment.

Barely had the prisoners regained their place of confinement than the bulkhead door was shut, a slight yet distinctly perceptible list announcing that the submarine was diving. The fore-peak was now uncomfortably crowded, for the "watch on deck," unable to remain any longer on deck, had come below at the order to trim ship for diving. One and all looked drawn and anxious. Unlike their brethren in the non-mine-laying submarines they had practically nothing to do. The excitement of being able to launch a torpedo at a British ship, be she naval vessel or merchantman, was denied them. They were, in fact, nothing more than passive individuals cooped up in the shell of a submerged craft, unable to see what was going on without, and helpless to save themselves in the event of the submarine being rammed.

For quite a minute the obliquely downward plunge was maintained, the vessel the while turning sharply to starboard. Then, pitching slightly to the violent displacement of a volume of water, she resumed her normal trim at a depth of ten fathoms beneath the surface.

The action of porting helm had undoubtedly saved the mine-laying submarine. An alert British patrol boat had sighted her from afar, and at a rate resembling that of a train had charged down upon the spot where UC49 had disappeared, while trailing astern at the end of an insulated cable was an explosive grapnel of sufficient power to shatter 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 reckoned upon the UC49 changing course as she dived. As it was, the explosive grapnel passed within a couple of yards of the submerged vessel's beam.

Of this Fuller and his companion knew nothing. Perhaps, for their state of mind, it was as well. A man will bravely face death at the hands 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-zag course in order to baffle her pursuer. The German seamen were beginning to breathe more freely. The worst part of the business--the great risk of being rammed as she dived--was over, and although under the enormous pressure jets of water were hissing through the faulty joints the men realised that they stood more than a 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 stopped owing to their immersion when the seaplane was sunk; there was no clock in the fore compartment nor were the bells struck in the customary style on board. But at length, after a seemingly interminable interval, the order was given to empty the auxiliary water ballast tanks. Simultaneously the floor assumed a list--this time in a contrary direction.

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

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

The mine-layer was helpless. Without means of propulsion there were only two courses open to her--to float or sink to the bottom. It was impossible to keep submerged to a certain depth simply by means of admitting a certain quantity of water ballast. Once the reserve of buoyancy was overcome she would sink to the bed of the North Sea, in all probability collapsing under the terrific pressure on her hull long before she arrived there. It is only by means of the diving rudders acting in conjunction with her diving trim that a submarine can remain submerged to a required depth; and since the kapitan-leutnant of UC49 had no desire to make the acquaintance of the 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 by the clanking of the auxiliary motors actuating the bilge pumps. When the main shaft fractured--the submarine had only one "screw"--the propeller had flown off, taking with it the broken tail shaft and straining the stuffing-box to such an extent that water poured through the glands. The pumps were just able to cope with the inrush. Should they choke or otherwise get out of order the vessel would promptly founder.

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

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

The two chums ascended the ladder and gained the platform in front of the conning-tower. Here were about a dozen of the crew, a similar number being stationed aft. The officers were grouped amidships, their attention fixed upon some distant object which they were examining through their glasses. The chug-chug of the pumps continued, showing that some of the engine-room staff were still standing by the auxiliary machinery.

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

Several of the German seamen hearing the exclamation regarded the A.P. angrily; otherwise they offered no objection to the prisoners being on deck. The kapitan-leutnant, also overhearing Bobby's expression of satisfaction, lowered his binoculars and glared at the irrepressible Briton. Then he raised the glasses again and scanned the horizon, finishing up his scrutiny by keeping the on-coming craft under observation.

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

Promptly the sailor hoisted the Black Cross Ensign, but whether as a token of defiance or otherwise the British officers were unable to decide. 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 a German prison. These are two of our torpedo-boats."