The Submarine Hunters

"I had just looked at my watch—luminous face, thank goodness—when my sergeant whispered to me that someone was approaching. It was then close on twelve. He was right. There were three men ambling cautiously along the sea-wall. They were talking softly. Once one of them stopped, bent under the lee of a furze bush and lit a cigarette, which seemed a rummy thing for a spy to do unless it was a prearranged signal.

"We let them come on until they got within 20 yards, then up popped my sergeant.

"'Halt, who goes there?' he shouted, loud enough to be heard a couple of miles away.

"Bless me if the three fellows hadn't the cheek to answer in exactly the same words, although they didn't sound particularly cheerful over the job; and, instead of halting, one of them came on, holding a stick above his head. The others didn't seem very keen to follow him, but began jabbering away as hard as they could.

"So I gave orders for a couple of shots to be fired over their heads, just to let them know what to expect when they deliberately ignore a challenge. But instead of 'hands up' they bolted, with our men after them.

"Then I had good reason to bless that blessed marsh, for between us and the rifle-butt was a deep ditch filled with water, and a nice wire fence on the other side. Half a dozen of us, myself included, were floundering up to our waists; the others were lucky enough to avoid the ditch by making straight for the path. But we had the fellows all right."

"The spies?" asked Vernon.

Barraclough yawned, and then laughed mirthlessly.

"Nuthin' doing," he replied. "They were three members of a local defence corps engaged in patrolling the marshes. Goodness only knows what for, for they hadn't any weapon with them except walking-sticks. Perhaps 'twas as well, though, for they might have let rip in their excitement. When a man's nerves are all upset it's not safe for him to have his finger on the trigger of a rifle, you know."

"But the spies?" asked Vernon.

"Not a sign of 'em," replied the subaltern. "If they were anywhere about, they must have sheered off pretty quickly when they heard the racket. An hour later an orderly brought us word to return to the fort, so we guessed that something had taken place between a patrol-ship and the submarine. But I must be on the move. Regards to Trefusis. If you've a chance to get ashore on the other side, look me up."

CHAPTER XX

To the Rescue

Twelve hours later found H.M.S. Capella back on her station off Beachy Head.

The long-threatened gale had burst with great violence upon the South coast. Long crested breakers surged towards the chalky cliffs, thundering with terrific force against the sheer face of the rocks.

Seaward, as far as the eye could reach, was nothing but a confused tumble of foam, backed by a lowering bank of ragged and sombre clouds.

The Capella and her consorts had to "stick it". Without orders they dare not seek shelter in Newhaven harbour. All they could do was to forge slowly ahead, keeping bows on to the furious seas. In spite of her shallow draught, the Capella was an excellent sea boat, although inclined to be "jumpy". Frequently green waves broke over the fo'c'sle and surged aft as far as the deck-house under the bridge; but with unfailing regularity the stanch vessel would shake herself clear of the tons of water that had invaded her deck, to be ready to receive the next contribution from the hand of King Neptune.

Nevertheless, while the gale lasted it was a time of discomfort. One thing for which the crew were thankful was the fact that it was still September, and the gale was not one of those wintry varieties which are so trying to the hardy patrollers of the North Sea.

Everything had to be battened down. 'Tween-decks the air was stifling, and reeked of fumes from the motors. It was impossible for a man to stand unsupported. Anything that had not been securely lashed would be sure to be flung across the deck by the erratic motion. No hot meals were obtainable. Officers and crew had to eat as best they might, without the use of articles of civilization such as plates and similar things.

Ross and Vernon saw very little of each other during the gale, except for a brief interval during the changes of the watch on deck. Each enjoyed his "trick" on deck, as he crouched behind the bulging storm-dodgers and faced the howling wind and the stinging spray. It was greatly to be preferred to being below, cooped up in an atmosphere which resembled that of an underground scullery on washing-day, with the odours of petrol and lubricating oil thrown in as extras.

"One thing we've to be thankful for," remarked Barry, "and that is that it's a sou'wester. It minimizes the chance of being blown up by a derelict mine."

"How is that?" asked Ross.