The Dispatch Riders Part 42

She arose and, steadying herself by means of the cabin table, made her way to the for'ard bulkhead. Drawing back a curtain, she took down the required article from a rack.

"It is a nurse's duty to become quickly acquainted with her surroundings," she said with a smile, as she handed Rollo the telescope.

The lad returned to the c.o.c.kpit. Standing with his back against the after bulkhead of the cabin he raised the telescope. It was some time, owing to the motion of the boat, before he could get the instrument to bear.

"I must rouse Kenneth," he said calmly.

"Why?" asked Thelma. "Tell me: is there anything wrong? I will not be frightened."

"There is, I fear," he answered. "Unless I am very much mistaken, yonder craft is a German torpedo-boat, and she is standing in pursuit of us."

CHAPTER x.x.x

The Victorious White Ensign

"Kenneth, old man, wake up!"

Everest opened his eyes listlessly. Aroused in the midst of the sleep of utter exhaustion, he did not at once realize his surroundings.

"What's up?" he asked drowsily, with a suspicion of resentment in his voice.

"Come out into the c.o.c.kpit," said Rollo. "I want you to see if we are on the right course. We pa.s.sed the tramp steamer some time ago."

"Then why didn't you call me?" demanded Kenneth, displaying considerable alacrity, and making a dash for the cabin door.

"Stay here a little longer, Yvonne," said Rollo to the Belgian girl as she began to follow her patient. The lad's chief anxiety was to keep her in ignorance of the new danger that threatened them.

"Right as rain," announced Kenneth, glancing at the compa.s.s.

"Look astern, old man," said his chum in a low voice. "I didn't want to alarm Yvonne. Thelma knows, though. That torpedo-boat coming up hand over fist is a German."

"Never!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Kenneth. The idea of a war vessel flying the Kaiser's black-cross ensign on the high seas seemed incredible.

"Fact," rejoined Rollo. "Take this telescope."

"You're right, by Jove!" exclaimed Kenneth after a brief survey. "We must carry on as long as we can. If they fire at us we must stop, for the sake of the girls."

The motor was running at its utmost possible number of revolutions, yet the boat was no match for the grey-painted craft now a mile and a half astern.

The German torpedo-boat made no sign of firing; she merely hung on doggedly in the wake of the motor-craft, slowly yet surely diminis.h.i.+ng the distance between them. The haze had now lifted considerably, so that the range of vision extended for quite five miles. All around, save for the pursuing craft, the horizon was unbroken.

"Perhaps those chaps think that their rotten spy, Jules de la Paix, is on board," suggested Rollo. "They may have a prearranged plan to pick him up at sea."

"Should hardly think so," replied Kenneth. "It would have been easier for him to have run across to Dutch territory, if he hadn't the heart to remain at Antwerp during the bombardment. If that's whom they're after they'll be jolly disappointed."

"They'll spot our uniforms, if they haven't already done so," said Rollo. "I wish the beggars would be stopped by a submarine."

Kenneth did not reply. Seized by an inspiration, he grasped one of the two boat-hooks on deck, released it from its las.h.i.+ngs, and tossed it overboard.

"What have you done that for?" asked his chum.

Kenneth pointed to the staff of the boat-hook. Weighted down by the gun-metal head, it was bobbing up and down in a vertical position some yards astern.

"That may give them a bit of a shock," he explained. "They may think it's a periscope of a submarine."

"It's much too small."

"Not when there are no means of comparing it with anything else. Look at it now. You couldn't say with certainty within a hundred yards how far it is away. Anyhow, we'll chance it."

The German torpedo-boat had hoisted four signal-flags to her cross-yards. They were blowing out in a fore-and-aft direction.

"Can't make them out," declared Kenneth, "and wouldn't understand them if I did. Now, watch."

Suddenly two spurts of flame burst from the deck of the pursuing boat.

Sh.e.l.ls from her three-pounder quick-firers pitched a short distance on her starboard side. Simultaneously the torpedo-boat swung round.

Travelling at twenty-seven knots, the sudden porting of her helm caused her to heel outwards till her deck was almost awash.

"By Jove, she's rammed our boat-hook!" shouted Kenneth enthusiastically. "If ever she gets back to port, won't she pitch a yarn about ramming and sinking a British submarine!"

The lad was not wrong in his surmise, for the torpedo-boat slowed down and made a complete circle, steaming over the spot where she imagined the periscope to have been. Luckily the ruse was not discovered, for a chance shot had shattered the boat-hook staff and had sent the weighted end to the bottom; while, on the other hand, the motor-boat had gained at least two miles on her pursuer.

"It's worth while throwing our remaining boat-hook overboard," said Rollo. "I don't suppose we'll want it in any case."

The German torpedo-boat had now resumed the pursuit. Obviously fearing the presence of other submarines she kept a zigzag course, altering her helm every five minutes in order to confuse the aim of a possible torpedo-gunner. Consequently, although she still overhauled her quarry, the distance between them lessened with perceptible slowness.

Ten minutes from the time of resuming her course the torpedo-boat fired her bow gun. The plugged sh.e.l.l, purposely aimed wide, threw up a column of spray a hundred yards from the motor-boat's port quarter.

The lads exchanged glances. Kenneth leant forward and switched off the ignition.

"Hard lines!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "If it weren't for the girls----"

While the boat still carried way he put the helm hard over, until her bows pointed in the direction of her captor. Dejectedly the crew awaited the arrival of the torpedo-boat, wondering what course the Germans would pursue.

"Look!" exclaimed Thelma, excitedly pointing to the hostile craft.

The sight that met their gaze was an inspiring one. From somewhere at a great distance away a sh.e.l.l had hurtled through the air. Striking the water within twenty yards of its objective, the missile had ricochetted, and had shattered the torpedo-boat's foremost funnel.

Another and another followed in quick succession, both bursting over the deck of the doomed vessel.

The Germans replied, firing with great vigour, but the crew of the motor-boat could form no idea of what they were firing at or the result of their efforts. In five minutes the torpedo-boat was badly holed for'ard and making water fast.

"The cowardly skunks!" exclaimed Kenneth, frantically restarting the motor. The epithet was justifiable, for the commander of the torpedo-boat was endeavouring to use the little motor-boat as a screen from her enemy's fire.

Owing to the already crippled condition of the German craft, Kenneth could easily out-manoeuvre her. In spite of the risk of a sh.e.l.l from the exasperated Teuton, he kept his vessel about half a mile from the torpedo-boat and awaited the inevitable ending.

It was not long in coming. Torn by the well-aimed sh.e.l.ls, her mast, funnels, and deck fittings swept clean away, the torpedo-boat settled down. From amids.h.i.+ps a cloud of black smoke, tinged with lurid flames, soared skywards. Men were pouring up from the engine-room and throwing themselves into the sea.