Chapter 9 No.9

The Midnight Landing

The sanguine spirits of the German reservists had the effect of cheering up the crew of the Pelikan. To confirm their assertions the former produced copies of newspapers printed under Teutonic auspices for the benefit of the South American republics.

Taking advantage of the information concerning the dispositions of the British cruisers the kapitan of the Pelikan stopped another collier at a distance of four hundred miles east of Buenos Ayres. For eighteen hours the two vessels lay side by side while the coal was being transhipped to the almost empty bunkers of the raider.

For certain reasons von Riesser did not sink the tramp after having depleted her cargo. Perhaps it was because the crew had offered no resistance; but it was just possible that the kapitan of the Pelikan had sufficient humanity to see that the turning adrift of a couple of boat-loads in the desolate South Atlantic meant practically slow and certain death.

From the time of the arrival of the German reservists von Riesser's demeanour towards Denbigh and O'Hara underwent a marked change. Rarely did he enter into conversation with them. He treated them with aloofness. This the subs minded but little; it was the restrictions placed upon their movements that riled them. They were now allowed only two periods of exercise on deck during the day-from ten till noon and from two till five-and kept within strict limits. A sentry was posted to see that they remained within boundaries specified, and orders had been given for none of the reservists, many of whom spoke English, to enter into conversation with them.

On the fifth day after falling in with the San Matias the ship's course was changed to S.S.E. This she held until further progress was barred by the presence of a large field of pack ice. Von Riesser, in order to avoid any possible chance of meeting any of the Cape Squadron, had elected to go south into the vast and desolate Antarctic before entering the Indian Ocean.

At length came the welcome order to steer north. Gradually the temperature rose as the Pelikan left the frozen seas astern.

Maintaining a steady progress the ship reached the vicinity of Mauritius, keeping well to the eastward of that island.

The Pelikan now underwent another change. From truck to water-line she was repainted-black on the starboard side and a light-grey on the port. An additional funnel, a dummy one made out of canvas stretched on a framework of hoop iron and wood, was set up.

"It looks as if this craft is going to get through after all," remarked O'Hara, as the Pelikan reached Equatorial waters without having so much as sighted another vessel of any description.

"Yes, rotten luck," said Denbigh. "I heard von Langer telling that fat major that another twenty-four hours would bring us in sight of land. I notice these fellows are preparing for their jaunt ashore."

The reservists were discarding their motley civilian attire and were being provided with drill uniforms that had at one time been white but were now dyed to a colour nearly approaching khaki. Each man wore a sun helmet, but instead of puttees, jack-boots of dark undressed leather were served out.

In the midst of these preparations a sail was reported on the starboard bow. Hurriedly arms were served out to the troops, the quick-firers were manned, and machine-guns placed out of sight but in a position that would enable them to be used with deadly effect should occasion arise.

"Down to your cabins, you Englishmen!" snarled the fat major, von Eckenstein, who had previously been in conversation with the ober-leutnant of the Pelikan.

"Are you in charge of this ship, Herr Major?" asked O'Hara. "Hitherto our orders have come from Kapitan von Riesser."

The major's only reply was to raise a cane that he held in his hand and to strike the Irishman sharply across the cheek.

O'Hara's hot Hibernian blood surged at the insult. Fortunately he managed to keep himself under control, but for an instant Denbigh felt certain that his comrade's hard fist would come violently in contact with von Eckenstein's podgy nose.

"I'm afraid that bounder will have cause to be sorry for this," remarked O'Hara, when the chums had retired to their cabin. He critically examined in the glass the reflection of his face, on which a weal was rapidly developing. "By Jove, it was lucky for him that you were there, otherwise I would have given him something by which to remember me to the rest of his days."

"Perhaps it is as well," rejoined Denbigh. "It hardly pays in the circumstances to argue the point with a Prussian."

Of what occurred during the next two hours the subs had only a vague idea.

Von Riesser realized that flight was out of the question. To attempt to do so would arouse suspicion, and since several swift cruisers were known to be off the coast, a wireless message would bring half a dozen speedy British warships upon the scene. He therefore decided to carry on, escape by a stratagem if possible, if not, fight in a final bid for liberty.

Since the waters adjacent to German East Africa had been declared to be in a state of blockade it was useless to hoist the mercantile flag of any nation, so the Blue Ensign of the British Reserve was displayed.

In less than half an hour the strange craft was plainly visible. She was a small tramp, also displaying the Blue Ensign.

Von Riesser heaved a sigh of relief. She was not an armed auxiliary, otherwise the White Ensign would have been used. More than likely she was one of the fleet of subsidized merchantmen carrying stores and munitions for the British Expeditionary Force operating against the sole remaining German colony.

The stranger hoisted a signal. It was in code and consequently unintelligible to the Pelikan. Von Riesser promptly replied by another hoist, the flags meaning nothing, but simply to puzzle the tramp.

The Pelikan held on her course, which, in defiance of the Rule of the Road at Sea, would bring across the bows of the other. That in itself was suspicious, but any alteration of helm would reveal the Pelikan's piebald sides.

At a distance of less than a mile the German vessel gave three blasts upon her siren, signifying that her engines were going astern. Nevertheless she was steaming ahead as hard as she could until deception was no longer possible.

An order from the bridge and the screens surrounding the guns were lowered revealing her formidable quick-firers.

"Heave-to, or I'll sink you!" shouted the kapitan through a megaphone, for the tramp was now less than two cables' lengths away and broad on the starboard beam.

The tramp, which proved to be S.S. Myra of South Shields, had no option but to surrender. She was unarmed and of slow speed. Having left Simon's Bay with a convoy under escort she had encountered the tail of a cyclone. Detained by temporary engine-room defects during the storm she had fallen out of station, and was now a couple of hundred miles astern of the rest of the convoy.

Slowly the Blue Ensign was lowered, and way taken off the ship. Within ten minutes a prize crew in charge of Unter-leutnant Klick was on board. The officers and crew were locked up below, and warned that any attempt at resistance would result in the instant destruction of the Myra with all on board.

The boarding-officer's report was to the effect that the tramp was heavily laden with warlike stores. He asked instructions as to the disposal of the prize.

Kapitan von Riesser's mind was very active now. With a successful issue in sight he was not inclined to send such a valuable prize to the bottom.

"Can you get the Myra's engine-room and stokehold staff to work, Herr Klick?" asked the kapitan.

"I can, sir," replied the unter-leutnant grimly; and he did, for by dint of threats he compelled the luckless men to undertake to carry on under his orders.

"Very good," continued the kapitan of the Pelikan, receiving an affirmative reply. "Follow me at two cables' lengths astern. I'll slow down to enable you to keep station. Be prepared to abandon ship instantly should occasion arise."

Later in the afternoon the Pelikan and her prize arrived off Latham Island, under the lee of which von Riesser had decided to remain the night, since it was too hazardous to enter the harbour he had selected during the hours of darkness.

Denbigh, who had been allowed on deck, recognized the island. He had served a commission on the flagship of the East Indies India Station when he was a midshipman, and was fairly well conversant with the African coast in the vicinity of Zanzibar and Dar-es-Salaam.

Latham Island is a dangerous, low-lying patch of coral and sand, of oval form, being barely 350 yards in length and 180 yards broad. In no place does it rise more than 10 feet above the sea. Its surface is quite flat, having been made so by the constant treading of myriads of sea-fowl, that have consolidated the sand collected on the coral substratum into a soft sandstone, which shines very white in the sun, but is difficult to discern at night or in a bad light.

When visited and surveyed by H.M.S. Shearwater in 1873, a stone beacon was erected on the island, but owing to the absence of mortar used in its construction, it was blown down by the wind. Coco-nut trees were planted at the same time, but the result was unsatisfactory, as the birds destroyed them.

Owing to the dangerous vicinity of the islands it was unlikely that any vessel would pass within several miles of it during the night, so the Pelikan stood a chance of remaining at the anchorage without fear of detection.

"We are not far from the Rufigi River, are we?" asked O'Hara. "Do you think that the Pelikan is going to run for there?"

"Hardly," replied Denbigh. "With the K?nigsberg as a warning I think she'll give the Rufigi a wide berth. It's my opinion that she'll have a show at getting into the Mohoro River. It's fairly close, and once we can pass the bar there's deep water for nearly twenty miles. I'm curious to know what we are doing off Latham Island, however. I think I'll try the Stirling trick and have a prowl round on deck during the night."

"Only don't leave me in the lurch, old man," protested the Irishman, with an assumed look of consternation.

"I won't," replied Denbigh laughingly. "So don't lock me out."

Just before midnight the sub set to work with the screw-driver and succeeded in opening the door. Fortunately there was no sentry on the aft-deck on this occasion. Overhead there was a considerable amount of noise going on. It conveyed the impression that there were scores of men hard at work and trying to perform their various tasks with as little noise as possible.

Unseen and unheard, Denbigh gained the deck and mingled with the throng. There were seamen and reservists all hard at it, buckling to in the starlight. Cautiously the sub looked about for a place of concealment, where he could hear and see everything that was going on in his vicinity without much risk of detection.

He glanced up. Overhead were the boats swinging inboard on davits. Side by side with them, and resting on the booms or transverse steel girders, were some larger boats which could only be hoisted out by means of derricks. Between were several planks and spars lashed to the girders.

Awaiting a favourable chance, Denbigh nimbly ascended the iron ladder on the funnel casing that led to a platform just below the siren. After climbing a few rungs, he was able to swing himself across to the nearest boat, which was almost as large as a battleship's pinnace. It was roughly forty feet in length, and weighed nearly four tons.

"Look alive, men!" ordered Unter-leutnant Klick in his usual bullying tone. "The whole of the stuff must be sent ashore within an hour."

"Two boat-loads full, sir?" asked a petty officer.

"No; one. Get steam on the main hoist and lift out the pinnace."

"Hulloa!" thought Denbigh. "This looks like a proper jamboree. I stand a chance of getting nabbed. I wonder what the idea is of landing a quantity of gear on a sandbank like Latham Island?"

He heard several men ascending to make ready the slings for hoisting out. Promptly the sub retreated for'ard and crouched in the bows. Here, unless any material was likely to be stowed in his place of concealment, Denbigh had a fighting chance of escaping detection, for above him was a large grating that fitted between the bows and the for'ard thwart.

"Now, then, Herr Major!" exclaimed Kapitan von Riesser. "Are your men ready? At least twenty with shovels will be necessary."

"I cannot see that it is necessary," objected Major von Eckenstein. "It is a mere waste of time. I protest against this useless labour, when we ought to be making for the Mohoro River." And the Prussian officer clanked the tip of his scabbard loudly upon the deck, as if to emphasize his protest.

Von Riesser, judging by the sound of his voice, lost his temper.

"Once you are ashore, Herr Major, you are in sole command of these troops. Here I am your superior. If I choose to give orders to facilitate our retreat, should it be necessary, it is for you to carry them out. If you refuse, I will place you under arrest and report the matter to the military governor of the colony."

"If you would only explain what you propose to do, instead of giving orders that have no apparent reason, I am willing to assist you," said the major grumblingly. "This business is evidently the result of a sudden inspiration on your part, and I think it is only just that you should take others into your confidence."

"You are setting a bad example for the discipline of the ship," declared the kapitan in a lower tone. "It would be as well if we adjourned to my cabin. When you have heard what is proposed to be done, I think you will agree with me that such a step is certainly necessary."

"Carry on, Herr Klick," continued von Riesser as he moved away. "See that every article enumerated on the list is sent ashore. I hold you responsible."

A bare-footed seaman, leaping upon the bow grating, prevented Denbigh hearing more of what was going on below. The fellow bent and groped for the hook of the chain sling. As he did so, his hand was within a couple of inches of the sub's face. The man withdrew his hand so suddenly, that for the moment Denbigh imagined that he had been discovered. Then came the metallic click of the hook engaging with the wire hawser from the derrick.

To the accompaniment of the clank, clank, of the winch and the hiss of escaping steam, the pinnace rose from its resting-place. Swaying gently, it swung outboard and was lowered rapidly into the water.

For the next quarter of an hour the crew were feverishly employed in dumping stores and gear into the boat. There were cans of petrol, that gave Denbigh food for reflection, boxes of provisions, water-beakers, arms and ammunition, sailcloth, and shipwright's tools.

Then came an avalanche of picks and shovels, followed by a crowd of men who, perched in every available space, swarmed like ants over the deeply-laden boat.

The pinnace was then cast off and taken in tow by a steam-boat. Denbigh knew this by the thud of the engines, but he was unaware that astern of the pinnace was a twenty-seven-foot whaler.

The pinnace grounded on the lee side of a sandbank, for there was little swell, although on the outlying coral reefs the sea was breaking heavily. Her work for the present done, the steam-boat cast off and returned to the Pelikan.

Without loss of time, the crew set to work to unload, and as the pinnace rose higher out of the water during the course of operations, she was hauled closer to the land.

"Everything out?" asked a voice.

"I'll see, sir," replied a petty officer, and kneeling on the bottom boards, he peered under the row of thwarts.

Denbigh shut his eyes and trusted to luck. He knew that once his gaze met that of the searcher, the darkness would not screen him. A long-drawn minute passed, and then the man reported that the boat was empty.

"Good; leave a couple of boat-keepers in charge and join the party with the whaler," continued the officer. "If you cannot manage her, ask for additional hands, but I think you will be able to drag her up. The ground is hard and level."

Away went the working-party, leaving the pinnace in charge of two seamen, who, having taken the strain off the bow cables, for the tide was rising, sat stolidly in the stern-sheets.

Above the distant roar of the surf, Denbigh could distinguish the thud of the pickaxes and spades. He would have given a lot to see what the diggers were doing, but the presence of the boat-keepers compelled him to crouch, cramped and cold in the bows. Although the day had been exceedingly hot, the night air was decidedly chilly, the sand radiating the heat with great rapidity the moment the sun set. Clad in light garments, Denbigh shivered and wished that he could stretch his limbs.

The boat-keepers felt the cold, too, for after a little while they began to swing their arms. Finally they jumped ashore and began to pace to and fro. Having warmed themselves, the men sat upon the sand, and produced pipes and tobacco. The sub distinctly heard the rasping of matches, and gradually the odour of South American tobacco assailed his nostrils. The men had begun to talk, desultory conversation soon working up into an animated conversation.

Cautiously Denbigh stretched his limbs. Then waiting until the numbness had practically disappeared, he grasped the gunwale and slowly raised himself until his head was level with one of the rowlocks, the poppet of which had fortunately been removed.

His range of vision was limited. In the bright starlight he could discern the diggers. Already the bulk of the stores were hidden, while at a distance of twenty yards from the cache, other men were excavating a long trench, by the side of which lay the whaler. The depth of the hole was now about five feet, and only the heads of the workers were visible from the pinnace.

The sub waited and watched, keeping a sharp look-out lest the boat-keepers should return. Presently he became aware that his range of vision was changing. The rising tide was swinging the pinnace diagonally with the shore.

Denbigh promptly returned to his lair. He was not a minute too soon, for just as he settled himself the boat-keepers returned and took up the strain on the bow ropes.

"A good rise and fall for neap tides," remarked one of the men. "If we get as much as this tomorrow we ought to be able to cross the bar. I don't fancy having to remain at anchor in this lagoon until the new moon with those English cruisers prowling around."

"Ach, we will take due precautions, Henrich," replied the other. "Once we get inside the reefs we are perfectly safe. It is the run across to the mainland that is the trouble. Come on, let us go back to our snug seat and have another smoke. It is indeed good to be able to tread dry land again, even if it is little better than a sandbank."

The men scrambled over the gunwale, and as soon as they were gone Denbigh took up his former position by the rowlock. He was just in time to see the whaler, lifted by a dozen brawny seamen and soldiers, topple bottom upwards into the trench. Without loss of time the Germans commenced to shovel back the soil. Others joined them, for the task of hiding the stores had been completed, and in a very short space of time the boat was quite covered, great care being taken to smooth the soft substratum until it showed no sign of having been disturbed.

The sub retreated to his hiding-place, for the men were beginning to return, straggling up in groups of threes and fours. The pinnace was backed out about half her own length and the men waded until they were able to climb on board.

They rowed back to the Pelikan. Once on the return journey the bowman, swinging his bare legs, caught Denbigh a blow on the forehead with his heel. Fortunately the fellow did not trouble to investigate, but the sub realized that it was a narrow squeak.

Arriving alongside the pinnace was hoisted out and stowed in its former place. The workers were dismissed, the watch changed, and quietude brooded over the ship.

"Now comes the rub," ejaculated the sub as he crept from his place of concealment. As agilely as a monkey he made his way along the steel beam until he gained the funnel ladder. Then he waited and listened. All was silence, save for the rumble of the surf and the subdued hiss of steam from the ship's boilers.

Unseen and unheard Denbigh gained the companion and descended the aft-deck. As he did so footsteps on deck told him he was barely in time. Cautiously he lifted the curtain that served to screen the light from the hatchway. The space beyond was deserted.

Swiftly he tiptoed to the door of the cabin. He tried the handle. The door refused to move. He knocked softly, thinking that O'Hara had fallen asleep. There was no response. Perhaps the Irishman had gone in search of him; but, if so, how could he have secured the door on the inside? Before Denbigh could knock again a steady tread resounded along the alley-way. The sentry on the aft-deck was coming towards him.