Rounding up the Raider Part 8

He held up a dark-green paper packet containing a dozen rounds of ammunition that fitted the automatic pistol.

"Steady!" exclaimed Denbigh. "You're looking for trouble with that thing, Pat. It's as dangerous as a s.h.i.+llelagh at Donnybrook Fair. And what's the object in breaking out?" he continued, addressing Stirling, who was fondling the screw-driver in antic.i.p.ation. "If you're detected there'll be a rumpus. I don't suppose you'll do any good, and if you possess your soul in patience a little longer you'll be let out."

"Hanged if I can," retorted Stirling. "I must have a look round. I didn't ask you fellows to come. In fact, there's less risk for one than three."

"Have your own way, then," said Denbigh, who knew that when the Scot once made up his mind there would be no turning aside.

The lock was secured to the inside of the door. It was sufficient to keep out intruders, but quite inadequate to resist the application of the screwdriver. Working swiftly yet silently, Stirling removed the bra.s.s staple. Only the pressure of his boot against the door kept it shut. Cautiously he drew the door ajar. There was a light switched on in the pa.s.sage. At the far end of the alley-way was the sentry on the aft-deck. The rest of the cabins were deserted, since the excitement of the chase kept all officers on deck. Having, then, no fear of detection the sentry was sitting on the lid of a chest, his face buried in a book.

"All clear," whispered Stirling. "S'long, you fellows. Expect me when you see me."

He gave another glance in the direction of the sentry. The man had not stirred. Softly Stirling crept out and tiptoed along the pa.s.sage in the direction of the ladder leading to the upper-deck.

The noise of the engines, audible throughout the length and breadth of the s.h.i.+p, and the tramp of feet on deck, deadened the slight sound of his movements. At the end of the alley-way a curtain had been stretched in order to screen the light from the companion-way. Beyond, although there were men standing about, the place was in darkness.

Stirling took the risk. He knew that in the gloom there would be great difficulty to distinguish the uniforms of the German officers from his own. Lifting aside the curtain, he stepped forward with the self-confidence of a man accustomed to command.

The knot of seamen separated, the men clicking their heels and standing rigidly at the salute. In the darkness they recognized the officer but not the individual. Not for one moment did they suspect that he was one of the strafed Englishmen, whom they had every reason to suppose to be under lock and key.

Without interruption Stirling gained the deck. The shattered woodwork, just discernible in the darkness, showed him the result of the British cruiser's sh.e.l.ls. He glanced aft. Far astern, the red blur that had so disturbed the equanimity of Kapitan von Riesser came as a solace to his mind. His surmises were correct. The _Pelikan_--or, as he knew her, the _Zwaan_--was being chased, but he could not quite understand why the pursuing vessel should be so far astern, since a few hours ago she was within range. He, of course, knew nothing of the event that led to the _Actaeon_ taking up the chase. Nor could he suggest any reason why the German liner should show a white light astern. It seemed contrary to every precaution necessary to shake off pursuit.

"May as well get for'ard," soliloquized the sub. "There seems a bit of a hullabaloo. I'll see what it is about. I don't suppose I'll be spotted if I keep clear of the crush. Hulloa! They're getting the boats out. Are they going to abandon s.h.i.+p, I wonder, or is it merely a matter of discretion, should the old hooker get plugged?"

With little difficulty Stirling took up his position under the lee of a ventilator. As he waited he heard fragments of the conversation between von Riesser and his subordinate.

Stirling was a poor German scholar; so much so that he was ashamed of the little German he knew. By sheer good luck, however, he recognized several of the words--sufficient to enable him to guess shrewdly the nature of the kapitan's order.

Stirling was very often lucky in that way. Even while he was hiding behind the ventilator he recalled a similar instance. It was on the occasion of his entry examination to Osborne, and Stirling was in those days an atrocious speller even for a youth of thirteen and a half. In the dictation subject the lad found himself balked by the word "adaptable". He was on the point of writing "adaptible" when he caught sight of some letters stamped upon the pen he was using: "The Adaptable Pen". When the result of the examination was announced Stirling found that he had only just attained the minimum marks in English to qualify.

Afterwards he was apt to remark that he owed his commission to a twopenny pen which might, for aught he knew, have been made in Germany.

"By Jove, they're going to use that boat as a decoy," soliloquized the sub. "I'll risk it. Hang it all! If I'm spotted there can only be a s.h.i.+ndy. With our cruiser pelting up astern and Denbigh and O'Hara below, they won't dare to try any of their kultur tricks."

The launch was now level with the rail. The men told off to attend to the disengaging gear were already on board, while down below an artificer was trying to coax the motor. Apparently he had trouble, for he called out to one of his mates to pa.s.s something to him. At that moment Kapitan von Riesser gave an order, and the unter-leutnant and his men faced for'ard.

In a trice Stirling slipped quietly over the rail at the heels of one of the crew. While the latter made his way for'ard to the motor-room the sub entered the little cabin. It was, as he expected, empty. Not knowing whether any of the launch's crew would remain, Stirling crept under the seat and waited.

The _Pelikan_ was losing way. Her engines had been reversed in order to bring her almost to a standstill in the least possible time.

"Lower away!" shouted a voice in German which Stirling recognized as that of Unter-leutnant Klick.

The racing of the motor, which the artificer had at length succeeded in starting, drowned all other sounds. The propeller, racing in the air, was revolving at terrific speed. Unless the launch were quickly put into the water the motor would soon be overheated, since no cooling device was possible until the pump sucked water into the jackets surrounding the cylinders.

The artificer, his task accomplished, swung himself on to the _Pelikan's_ deck, while directly the falls were cast off the two seamen swarmed up the ropes. Almost before Stirling was aware of it, the launch was speeding forward.

"Time I made a move," muttered the sub. With the utmost caution he emerged from his hiding-place and made his way to the well. The bright rays of the lamp lashed to the ensign-staff enabled him to see everything on deck. One glance told him that he was the only member of the crew. Already the _Pelikan_ was lost to sight in the darkness.

Stirling's first act upon taking command was to cut the las.h.i.+ngs of the helm and to turn the launch in the same direction as the _Pelikan_ had been travelling. He then looked for the supposed position of the pursuing cruiser. On the horizon were two glints of red light at, roughly, 15 degrees apart.

"Two of them," said the sub to himself. "The more the merrier.

Another ten minutes and it will be seen whether I am smashed to smithereens by a British 6-inch sh.e.l.l."

As a matter of precaution he cast off the las.h.i.+ngs of the lamp, placing it on a seat just inside the cabin. There it was within arm's reach, while the sub was not in danger of being temporarily blinded by the glare.

"That's the rising moon," continued Stirling, referring to the light to the east'ard. "The other glare is from the cruiser's funnels.

Allowing her speed to be 20 knots, and this hooker's 12 or 15, she's gaining on me at about eight miles an hour."

Presently the newly-risen moon appeared in a rift of clouds. Its slanting rays silhouetted the outlines of a large four-funnelled cruiser, now less than a couple of miles astern.

"Time!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Stirling laconically. Leaving the helm he made for the motor-room and switched off the ignition. Then, returning to the well, he raised and lowered the lamp several times in succession, dipping it behind the coaming in order to signal the "General Call".

A light flashed from the cruiser. Thank heavens it was not the spurt of a quick-firer but a steady white flare, to signify that the s.h.i.+p was in readiness to receive the message. "_Zwaan_ has sent decoy adrift,"

signalled Stirling. "Probably altered course to south'ard. Please return and pick me up after end of chase."

A searchlight was switched on from the cruiser's after-bridge. For a few moments it played upon the now motionless motor-launch. Then, somewhat to Stirling's surprise and to his not altogether complete satisfaction, the cruiser began to slow down.

"It's all right for me," soliloquized the sub. "But it's hard lines on Denbigh and Pat. I'm afraid von Riesser has given our fellows the slip."

CHAPTER VII

Foiled by a Collier

For the rest of the night Denbigh and O'Hara awaited in vain for their comrade's return. They had no idea of the flight of time since, during the chase, the s.h.i.+p's bell had not been struck. In the screened cabin they sat, with the electric light switched on, for after their interview with Kapitan von Riesser on the subject of the attempted chloroforming, the current was not cut off after ten o'clock as was formerly the case.

"Faith! I'll go and see what he's up to," exclaimed O'Hara, removing the chair from the door. It was the only way to keep the door closed, since the replacing of the staple of the lock would have barred Stirling's return.

"Better not," objected Denbigh. "Either he's all right or he's all wrong. In the former case it wouldn't do to meddle with his business.

Two stand double the risk of detection that one fellow runs. In the latter case, our going to look for him won't help matters in the least, because if they've collared him they will be on the look-out for us."

"S'pose you're right," grudgingly a.s.sented Pat. "We must stick it."

The chums "stuck it" for another two hours, then the sound of six bells (7 a.m.) announced the fact that it was daylight, and that precautions in the matter of noise were no longer necessary.

"The flunky will be here presently to open the port-hole," remarked Denbigh. "I think we had better screw on that chunk of metal.

Stirling won't be coming now."

"Then what has happened to him?"

"Goodness only knows. Look here; we won't open the ball. Let's see if they know anything about his disappearance."

"The man will notice that the moment he comes into the cabin," objected O'Hara.

For answer, Denbigh crossed over to Stirling's cot, placed the bolster longwise and covered it with the blankets. Then, partly drawing the curtains, he stood back and surveyed the result of his handiwork.

"Dash it all!" he exclaimed. "It would take a lynx-eyed detective to spot the game, especially when the port-hole is opened, because the bunk is dead against the light. Let's turn in. Old Fritz will smell a rat if he finds us up and dressed."

The two subs had barely settled themselves in their bunks and had switched off the light, when a key clicked in the lock and the German sailor deputed to attend to them stumbled in.