The Long Trick Part 16

"The personal element comes in more, I suppose, in those craft," said Sir William musingly. He focused his gla.s.ses on a turf cabin ash.o.r.e.

"The Admiral was telling me that a London brain specialist was born in one of those crofter's huts."

The Submarine Commander nodded. "It's not unlikely," he said. "These Northern fishermen are a fine breed. But this patrol work has developed a new type of seaman altogether. We've got a fellow up here huntin' Fritzes--he's a merchant seaman with a commission in the Naval Reserve.... There are times when he makes _me_ frightened, that sportsman. It's a blessing the Hun can't reproduce his type: anyhow, I haven't met any over the other side, or up the Baltic."

"Name of Gedge?" enquired Sir William dryly.

"That's the lad," was the reply. "D'you know him, sir?"

"No, but I've heard of him."

"You'll see him presently," said the other. "He's waiting for us outside onboard his trawler. If you go onboard, have a look at the beam of his fore-hatch: rather interestin'."

"What about it?" asked Sir William.

"A little row of notches--that's all. He adds another from time to time, and I feel sort of sorry for Fritz when he's about."

"Like rats' tails hanging on a stable door," supplemented the First Lieutenant in explanation.

"I see," said Sir William. "This is going to be interesting." He pitched the stump of his cigar overboard and turned up the collar of his ulster as the spray began to drift past their heads.

"We work together sometimes," said the Submarine Officer, "Gedge and I.

Little stunts, you know.... It's part of my job, of course, huntin'

Fritzes, but it's more than a job with him: it's a holy mission.

That's why I'm a bit frightened of him really." The speaker searched the visitor's face with his guileless blue eyes. "I'm afraid of meeting him one day, unexpectedly, before I can establish our ident.i.ty!" His quick smile flashed across his sunburnt face and was gone again.

The Submarine was pa.s.sing under frowning walls of cliff, and the murmur of the surf thundering about the caverns and b.u.t.tresses of that rock-bound coast almost drowned the throb of the engines beneath their feet. Far out to seaward a formation of Mine-sweeping Sloops crept away to the west. Close insh.o.r.e, where the gulls circled vociferously, an insignificant trawler with a rusty funnel lay rolling in the swell.

A wisp of bunting jerked to the stumpy foremast, and a pair of hand-flags zigzagged above the trawler's wheel-house. The Yeoman of Signals on the Submarine's conning tower stiffened like a statue as he read the message.

"Says, 'Will Sir William Thor-r-ogood come aboar-r-d, sir? If so, he'll send a boat.'" His speech placed him at home in these Northern lat.i.tudes.

"Reply, 'Yes. Please send boat.'"

A quarter of an hour later Sir William was climbing out of a tubby dinghy over the trawler's bulwarks. A big bronzed man in a jersey and sea-boots, wearing the monkey-jacket of a Lieutenant of the Reserve and a uniform cap slightly askew, came forward, one enormous hand outstretched in greeting. "Pleased to meet you, sir," he said. "My name's Gedge."

Sir William shook hands and winced.

"I've heard of you," he said, "and I was anxious to meet you. What d'you think of that toy?"

He nodded aft at a web of wire-coils, vulcanite levers and bra.s.s keys, standing beneath a wooden shelter in the stern. Three or four officers from the Fleet were gathered round it with note-books in their hands testing and adjusting amid its intricacies.

"I've been lookin' at it," admitted the big man non-committally. "It sounds like a cinch, but I understand it ain't perfect yet?"

"Not by what you might call a long chalk," was the dry reply.

The big man looked relieved. "That's all right," he said. "Because when it is I guess I can go right along and get to bed. That little outfit's going to finish the war, sir."

"Hardly," said Sir William. "But it's intended to help things in that direction. Unfortunately, you see, there's still a factor--what we call an unknown quant.i.ty----" He lapsed into technical explanations.

The other listened for a while and then shook his head.

"Maybe you're right," he said, "but I couldn't say. I'm no scholar--ran away from school too young. But it seems to me----" He lifted a booted foot and rested it on the low gunwale, "Workin' at long distances, there's the pull of the tides...."

Sir William's eyegla.s.s dropped. He recovered it and screwed it home.

"Am I right, sir?" asked the big man.

"You are," said the Scientist. "You've studied tides, too, have you?"

The Submarine Hunter chuckled. "I've learned to respect 'em," he replied dryly. "Down the Malay Archipelago I learned something about tides, spittin' overboard from salvage craft...." He stood upright.

"Well, sir, we'd better get to business. These gentlemen here are the brains of the party"--he nodded at the group aft. "I'm only in the picture to put them wise as to certain practical conditions of the game...." He dropped his voice to a confidential undertone as they walked aft. "The Navy scares me. It's so d.a.m.ned big, and there's so much gold lace--and it's so almighty efficient...."

Half an hour's discussion settled the _modus operandi_ for the experiment. The Submarine Commander rose from the gunwale and tossed away his cigarette-end, then he grinned at the Submarine Hunter who stood with one shoulder against the structure aft, shredding tobacco into the palm of his hand.

"Gardez-vous, Old Sport!" he said, as he began to climb down into the dinghy, where Sir William joined him.

"That's French, ain't it?" said the Submarine Hunter. "Don't speak the lingo."

One of the Naval officers standing by the apparatus laughed. "It's a challenge," he said. "Means 'Mind your eye!'"

The Hunter jerked his clasp knife in the direction of the fore-hatch.

"I can mind it all right," he replied grimly, and laughed with a sudden disconcerting bark of amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Now," said the Submarine Commander as the pointed bows swung round for the open sea, "we'll get away out of it. Must keep on the surface for a while--too many short-tempered little patrol boats close in to let us cruise with only a periscope showing." He waved his hand in the direction of countless smudges of smoke ringing the clear horizon.

"But once we're clear of those we'll dive and hide somewhere for a while. Give old man Gedge something to scratch his head about, lookin'

for us. Then we'll play round and test the apparatus.... You'll be able to observe the compa.s.s all the time, and I'll give you the distances. There's a young flood making ..."

For the s.p.a.ce of a couple of hours the boat slid swiftly through the waves and successive cordons of patrols pa.s.sed them onwards with flickering signals. The men onboard a line of rusty drifters leaned over the sides of their plunging craft and waved as the jaws of their baleful traps opened to let them pa.s.s through. Above their heads a gull circled inquisitively, shrilling the high, thin Song of the Seventh Sea: astern the peaks of Ultima Thule faded like opals into the blue.

A little cl.u.s.ter of rocky islands rose at length out of the sea ahead; the Submarine Commander took a swift bearing and rolled up the chart.

"That'll do," he said; "now we'll dive. There's a shoal patch hereabouts, and we'll sit on the bottom and have lunch while old man Gedge starts looking for us. After lunch we'll let him get near and try a bit of daylight stalking." He glanced at the sun overhead. "Bit early, yet awhile," he added.

One by one, led by Sir William, they descended the steel-runged ladder into the electric-lit depths of the Submarine. A hatch closed with a m.u.f.fled clang: a few curt orders were followed by a succession of gurgles like those of the tide flooding through a cavern; the Commanding Officer moved from the eyepiece of the periscope, and gravely contemplated a needle creeping slowly round the face of a large dial. A Petty Officer, with an expression emotionless as that of a traveller in a railway tunnel, sat by the dial manipulating a bra.s.s wheel; a few feet away sat a Leading Seaman similarly employed. The eyes of both men were fixed on the hesitating needle as it s.h.i.+vered round. Finally the needle wavered, crept on another inch and paused, trembling. The Lieutenant-Commander glanced fore and aft, stripped off a pair of soiled gauntlets and made a low-voiced observation. The two men, as if released from a spell, turned away from their dials.

"There we are," said the Captain cheerfully, "sitting snug on a nice sandy bottom in ten fathoms of water. What's for lunch?" He led the way forward to a folding table between the polished mahogany bunks.

"Fried chops, ain't it?" he enquired, sniffing.

They took their seats on camp stools while a bluejacket dealt out tin plates like playing cards. Sir William turned from a scrutiny of the tiny book-shelf over the port bunk. At the head of the bunk was nailed the photograph of a girlish face, and in close proximity to it one of a l.u.s.ty baby exploring a fur rug apparently in search of clothes.

"Not much of a library, I'm afraid," said the host, seating himself.

"I'm not much of a reader myself. The Sub's the bookworm of this boat."

The First Lieutenant of the Submarine shot a swift glance of suspicion at his Commanding Officer as he helped himself to a chop. The look, however, appeared to pa.s.s unnoticed.

"Some months ago," continued his Captain, speaking with his mouth full, "we were caught in shallow water over the other side----" he jerked his head upwards and to the South East. "We were sitting on the bottom waiting for it to get dark before we came up and charged batteries. I was having a stretch-off on my bunk here, and the Sub, of course, had his nose in a book as usual. From subsequent developments it appears that a Hun seaplane saw us and proceeded to bomb us with great good will but indifferent success."

"We ought never to have been there," interrupted the First Lieutenant coldly. "Bad navigation on the Captain's part."