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Dave Darrin After The Mine Layers, a novel by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 12. German Brutality At Its Worst |
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_ CHAPTER XII. GERMAN BRUTALITY AT ITS WORST Radio direct to Germany. Could any woman love this fellow? Dave expresses thanks to the enemy. "My card." The same as confession. "A pleasant evening for four!" The wild brutes of the sea.
Farther astern a narrow, ledge-like trapdoor of steel was raised, and from this was taken and stepped another steel jointed mast. The seamen now worked quickly in rigging aerial wires in place. In a very short time the work was completed, and the petty officer saluted von Schellen. "You cannot fail to understand what we are doing," hinted the young German officer. "You are about to send or receive radio messages, I take it," Dave replied. "You have been told, of course, that we always report our whereabouts after dark?" "Yes, it is common knowledge with the Allies," Dave admitted. "And also that you receive instructions from the home offices of your Admiralty." There was a crackling sound on the aerials, followed by others, some short, some long. "A wonderful invention, is it not?" asked von Schellen, with satisfaction. "Yes, and first developed outside of Germany," Dave bantered, good-humoredly. "True enough, but we have known how to take the radio and adapt it to all our needs," retorted von Schellen. "Your operator is now reporting your whereabouts, of course." "That would seem likely, wouldn't it?" the other demanded. "And then you will receive information." "Yes; and sometimes we have even messages for our men from their homes," laughed von Schellen. "More! I have even had tender messages from my sweetheart! And have answered them in kind!" For a moment Dave stared in astonishment. He knew von Schellen for a truly heartless brute. The idea that any woman could love this fellow came almost as a shock. And that Schellen could have any tender feelings! Wonders would never cease. "Of what are you thinking, if I may ask?" the German went on. "After information coming to you," Darrin hinted, "it almost goes without saying that you receive your orders." "Surely we receive them," nodded the German, "if we happen to need any. But in our line of professional work, after we have received information we do not often need orders. We know how to use our information." "Of course," Dave went on, "any other radio operator who is within hearing distance can pick up your messages, so you do not send them in open German but use a code, or rather, a series of codes." "If your radio men have ever picked up any of our messages," retorted the young German, "you must know that you were not able to decipher their meaning." "We could not always decipher them," Darrin admitted. "What do you mean by that?" "Why, it is possible, of course, that sometimes we and our Allies have some keys to the German use of code messages." "You assert that?" questioned von Schellen, rather eagerly. "No, and I do not deny it, either," Dave smiled. "You are interesting, but discreet," complained the German, banteringly. "And I may say as much of you," Dave continued. "Naturally, you know some things that you would not tell me, and I know a few things that I would not dream of telling you." "And, instead, you hint at things that are not so, and perhaps I do about the same thing," returned von Schellen. After that silence fell for some minutes. Dave walked back and forth, the junior officer watching him keenly. Overhead the crackling at the aerials continued, with occasional intervals of silence when the operator below was busy receiving messages. Again a petty officer approached von Schellen, saluting and reporting in an undertone. "It is time for you to go below," announced von Schellen, turning to Dave. "I appreciate very much this opportunity to take the fresh air," Dave said, politely, as he turned toward the conning tower. "Oh, I guess you're welcome," said the lieutenant, shortly, and with a meaning smile, "though sometimes there is such a thing as too much outdoor life." To Darrin's mild astonishment, as he stepped below, a folding table had been set up, and around this were seated the ober-lieutenant and two other officers, one of them an engineer. Von Schellen, at a nod from his chief, made the fourth at the table. Into this cabin were brought the English couple and the Danish master. Several sailors stood about. The occasion began to take on a formal look, which was heightened when the ober-lieutenant laid on the table a small sheaf of papers. "First of all, you, Herr Darrin," began the ober-lieutenant. "There can be no doubt that you are Darrin?" Dave thrust a hand in under his sheepskin, bringing to light a card-case. From it he withdrew a pasteboard which he laid on the table. "That is my card," he said. The ober-lieutenant studied it deliberately, then passed it to another officer as he continued: "And you do not deny that it was you who captured Ober-Lieutenant von Bechtold of the Imperial German Navy. You were the principal witness against him when he was tried in Britain for being a spy?" "I do not deny it, sir." "That is all. You may step back." As Darrin drew back he could not escape the feeling that two of the seamen near him regarded him as being their especial prisoner. "And now, the Earl and Countess of Denby," called the ober-lieutenant. The English couple remained as motionless and appeared as unconcerned as though they had not heard. "You two, I mean," insisted the ober-lieutenant, turning to them. "Oh," said the man, and stepped forward, his wife following him. The ober-lieutenant eyed the pair impressively before he asked them: "You do not deny that you are the Earl and Countess of Denby?" "No," replied the man. "Ah! Then you admit it?" "No," he said, promptly. "But either you must be, or you cannot be, the noble couple whom I have named. Which is it?" "That is for you to determine," replied the man. "But what do you say yourselves?" "Nothing." "But you must answer my question!" the commanding officer insisted angrily. "You fatigue me," declared the man. "You have not answered my question, and won't?" "We have nothing to say." Frowning, the ober-lieutenant whispered to a petty officer, who had placed on the table the same album that von Schellen had brought to the wardroom door. The commanding officer opened the album, pointing to two photographs that adorned a page. "These are your photographs, are they not?" he demanded, glancing up at the pair. But no reply came from them. "At least," said the ober-lieutenant, stiffly, "you have been given abundant opportunity to deny, and have declined to do so. Our imperial government has had sufficient information that you two have recently entered the British secret service. It is even known to the imperial government that you two recently undertook to penetrate into Germany, under even another assumed name than Launce, and that you planned to spy upon what was to be learned along the Kiel Canal. You even had some of your arrangements made for performing that seemingly very difficult piece of spy work. You have been charged, and you refuse to deny. It is the same as a confession on your parts. The Earl and Countess of Denby will stand aside." Two sailors, at a sign from the ober-lieutenant, drew the English pair back. "Martin Kennor, once master of the Danish freight steamer 'Rigsdak!'" called the commander. Promptly the Danish skipper stood forward. "There can be no doubt at all that you answer the description just given?" demanded the ober-lieutenant. "None vatever," agreed Kennor. "The only fault to be found with you," continued the ober-lieutenant, "is that you had the misfortune to be found in such company, and that later on your tongue might prove too long and ready. That is all!" Von Schellen, again on his feet, signalled to some of the seamen, then said: "The prisoners will follow me." To the amazement of all he led the way to the conning tower. After him the sailors herded the four prisoners of war. They ascended the ladder, the Englishwoman being the last of the four. Her husband and Captain Kennor assisted her as she stepped through the manhole to the deck outside. "But this is unkind," she declared, with a shiver. "My husband and I have not our outer wraps, and the night is chilly." "I will mention the matter," replied von Schellen, stiffly. The wireless masts and aerials had disappeared. As the four passengers stood on the deck and wondered, the seamen entered the submarine through the manhole in the wake of von Schellen. When the last of them had gone into the conning tower the junior lieutenant re-appeared at the manhole to call: "A pleasant evening for four!" Then the manhole cover was closed and there came to those on deck a muffled sound connected with fastening it on the inside. "What does this new insolence mean?" cried the Englishwoman. "If you do not guess, you must soon know," replied her husband, throwing an arm about her. It was then that Mrs. Launce understood. She turned pale, but did not cry out. Perhaps a full minute passed before the submarine began to move forward. Dave Darrin, familiar with the sounds from below, knew that the rumble of machinery coming to his ears was caused, not by the engines used in surface running, but by the electric motors employed when running under water. "The brutes are going to drown us, as they did the hapless sailors they took from our boat!" gasped the Englishwoman. "Yes, my dear," replied her husband, "and you have said that you would prefer drowning to being a prisoner in Germany." "I still say it," she answered quietly. "We are to have our wish," said her husband. Dave Darrin remained immobile; Captain Kennor shrugged his shoulders without speaking. The prow of the craft dipped into the water, which soon came creeping up around their ankles. The forward deck was now out of sight, the water in which they stood rising toward their knees. _ |
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