Rounding up the Raider Part 30

"Forgive me, Herr O'Hara!" he almost shouted.

The Irishman smiled affably.

"Forgive?" he echoed. "There is nothing to forgive. You gave O'Hara a cut across the face. It raised quite a small weal. Judging by the state of your figurehead, I'm afraid my treatment of you on the sh.o.r.e of the lagoon rather disturbed the balance of exchange."

"You did this?" asked the major, dumbfounded at the information.

"Donnerwetter! I thought----"

Sheer astonishment rendered him incapable of completing the sentence.

He could not understand why the British officer received him with unperturbed courtesy. Evidently here was something adrift with the Teutonic gospel of hate.

"So you were making for Latham Island to resurrect the hidden stores?"

asked Denbigh, addressing the unter-leutnant.

The young German officer was also completely taken aback.

"Yes," he admitted. "But how came you to know that we had stores buried there?"

"That's a secret," replied the sub. "But I'll tell you this. You would have found yourselves forestalled. Some of the _Pelikan's_ men made a dash for the island, fitted out the whaler, and left the place as bare as an empty house. They did not get far. The boat was capsized and all on board perished, except one man, who is now a prisoner on board this vessel."

"Now, gentlemen," broke in Stirling briskly, addressing the major and the unter-leutnant, "I must ask you to go below, but before doing so I will take the liberty of examining the contents of Major von Eckenstein's pockets."

"Himmel!" gasped the major. "For why? According to the rights of belligerents my personal property is not liable to be confiscated."

"Your personal property--yes," replied Stirling. "Come, sir, no fuss, if you please."

Sullenly the German permitted a petty officer to remove the contents of his pockets. There was an order-book, containing a few pencilled memoranda; a pocket-book in which were papers seemingly of purely personal interest; some notes on a South American bank.

"Kindly remove your waistcoat," continued the inexorable Stirling.

Von Eckenstein shrugged his shoulders. If black looks could kill, Stirling was as good as booked to Davy Jones.

"This is a needless indignity," almost howled the Hun.

"On the contrary, a necessary precaution on our part," corrected the skipper of the _Crustacean_.

Sullenly von Eckenstein removed his waistcoat and threw it on the deck.

Deliberately opening a penknife Stirling ripped open the back and removed an envelope of oiled silk.

"Thank you," he said gravely. "That is all we require for the present, Herr Major."

Gathering up the rest of his possessions, the major followed his companions in misfortune and disappeared below.

"Confidential orders from Potsdam to the German Governor of the East African Colony," announced Stirling. "Here, Denbigh, have a squint at it and see if I'm not right."

"How ever did you discover this?" asked O'Hara.

"Intuition, my dear old sport," replied Stirling with a laugh. "You told me about the cache on Latham Island. Also, you may remember relating a conversation between this von Eckenstein and Kapitan von Riesser, just before the stores were landed. Von Eckenstein objected--why? Because he thought the hiding-place ought to be on the mainland. He had a rooted objection to making a voyage in a smallboat.

Hence it was reasonable to suppose that the Latham Island depot was for the major's particular benefit. The fact that he was forestalled has nothing to do with the main case. The _Pelikan_ is in difficulties.

Direct communication with the rest of the German land forces is out of the question. So the major is sent off to Latham Island with the Imperial dispatches in his possession. Then the unter-leutnant's instructions are to revictual and replenish stores, and take the major to the mainland, most likely to the Rufigi River. There there is, I believe, fairly easy communication with Tabora, the head-quarters of the German Colonial forces. Seeing us approach, von Eckenstein ought to have destroyed his paper, but he didn't--he trusted to his belief in our natural stupidity. I wouldn't mind betting that now he's bemoaning his fate and admitting that Englishmen are not the fools he supposed them to be."

Which was exactly what the battered and dejected von Eckenstein _was_ doing.

CHAPTER XXII

The Monitors in Action

All that night the monitors lay, with lights out, off the outer bar of the Mohoro Lagoon. A council of war had been held on board the _Paradox_, when a fresh plan of action was drawn up. This was in consequence of the information Denbigh, O'Hara, and Armstrong had brought concerning the enemy's defences.

"This chart is radically wrong," declared Denbigh, when a chart of that part of the coast was shown to him. "The bend in which the _Pelikan_ is lying is not shown. Apparently the topography is from an old survey."

"It is from the latest available information," remarked Captain Holloway, loath to deprecate the work of the Hydrographic Department of the Admiralty.

"Available as far as the Germans would permit," corrected the sub deferentially. "They've had full control here for years. I'm not referring to the lagoon, but to the river. The depths, too, are inaccurate."

"I suppose you wouldn't object to a job to-morrow?" asked the senior officer, after he had listened intently to Denbigh's explanations and descriptions of the details of the Mohoro River.

"Not in the least, sir," replied the sub promptly.

"In a sea-plane?"

"Just my mark, sir; but I've had no flying experience."

"We would want you for registering duties," continued Captain Holloway.

"You will have a flight sub-lieutenant as pilot. With your knowledge of the sh.o.r.e batteries and torpedo stations you will be able to render further important service. Very good; I'll arrange for the sea-plane to pick you up at dawn; that is, if it is not too misty. These tropical mists play the deuce with aerial observations."

It was arranged that the attack should open at seven on the following morning. The _Crustacean_ was to lead the way over the inner bar, and devote her attention to the torpedo station. The _Paradox_ was to sh.e.l.l the batteries concealed in the mangrove forest, while the _Eureka_ was to patrol the lagoon and to cut off any attempt at flight on the part of the German troops, whose line of retreat would be pretty certain to be along the coast, since the thick forests and marshes to the westward made retirement to the hinterland almost a matter of impossibility.

Two hours before sunrise the crews of the monitors were called to "action" stations. They had previously bathed and changed into clean clothes, and had been given ample time to enjoy their breakfast.

Clearing s.h.i.+p for action took but little preparation, since the monitors carried only what was necessary as floating batteries.

At the hour specified a sea-plane taxied gracefully to within fifty feet of the _Crustacean_. A boat was lowered from the monitor, and into this Denbigh stepped, to the accompaniment of the somewhat irrelevant remarks of his brother officers.

"Fine mornin'," was the flight-sub's greeting, as nonchalantly as if he were pa.s.sing the time of day with a casual acquaintance. "Hop in.

You'll find a belt fixed to the back of your seat. There's the wireless gear. See that lever on your left? That releases the paying-out gear of the aerial. Don't pay out too smartly. Ready?"

The blades glittered in the morning light as the propeller revolved and rapidly increased the number of revolutions. Slowly at first, then with accelerated movement, the sea-plane skimmed the placid surface of the lagoon. Then, almost before Denbigh was aware of it, the machine leaped upwards. The slight tilt of the seat was the only intimation that the sea-plane had parted company with the water, until the sub noticed the surface of the lagoon apparently receding with great rapidity.

Round and round spiralled the frail contrivance, tilting with an easy swinging movement as it climbed. Already the monitors looked no larger than toy boats upon an ornamental pond. The irregular ground on either side of the river was merged into an expanse that betrayed no indication of height. Far beneath him Denbigh could discern a ribbon-like strip of silvery-grey. It was the Mohoro River.

"Distance lends enchantment to the eye," thought the sub. "And it is such a dirty river."

He mused feelingly. In his imagination he sniffed the foetid odours from the torrential yellow stream. He had a mental vision of a swim in the dark, with hippos and crocodiles for company. The reeking mud-flats, too, lay beneath him, their dismal and monotonous aspect obliterated by the charm of alt.i.tude.

Above the land the rapidly increasing strength of the morning sun was causing great irregularities in the density of the air. The sea-plane rolled violently. Twice she dropped through a sheer distance of a couple of hundred feet, owing to "air pockets", but the pilot, with the utmost unconcern, held her on her course.