Read Ebook: A Sub. of the R.N.R.: A Story of the Great War by Westerman Percy F Percy Francis Wigfull W Edward Illustrator

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Ebook has 820 lines and 83752 words, and 17 pages

Five minutes later the "Hertzolfs" propellers began to churn the water. Gathering way she dipped her red, white, and black ensign, a compliment that the "Saraband" promptly returned. This done she shaped a course to the sou'-west and was soon hull-down.

"Too jolly inquisitive for my liking," muttered Captain Ramshaw. "I wish to goodness old McBride would get his job finished." He moved towards the telephone communicating with the engine-room, then, abruptly wheeling:--

"Mr. Aubyn," he exclaimed. "Present my compliments to the chief engineer, and ask him if he can give me any definite information as to when he will be able to raise steam."

ON THE SCENT.

FOURTH Officer Aubyn knew that it was for no ordinary purpose that he had been sent with a message to the chief engineer. It was most unusual for a deck-officer to have to go to the engine-room on duty. There was something beyond a normal anxiety to know when the ship would be able to raise steam that caused Captain Ramshaw to make an inquiry from the bridge without using the telephone.

It was a diplomatic stroke on the part of the "old man." He knew by experience that McBride could be easily led, while on the other hand the dour old Scotsman would not be driven. It was not a case of preferential treatment in the case of the chief engineer. Captain Ramshaw invariably treated all his subordinates alike, giving his orders in a bland, courteous manner that rarely failed to produce an instant response on the part of those with whom he had to come in contact. Yet from the chief officer down to the pantry-boy no one on board would dare to take undue advantage of the skipper's courtesy. Woe betide the unlucky man to whom Captain Ramshaw had to give the same order twice. There had been instances, but not on board the SS. "Saraband." The good understanding between the captain, officers, and crew made her the counterpart of a "happy ship" in the Royal Navy.

But now, for the first time on record during Captain Ramshaw's command, a dirty piece of work had been done on board--seemingly unaccountably. Some one in the engine-room had committed a dastardly crime. Captain Ramshaw would not rest until the culprit had been spotted; for with the safety of the ship, passengers, crew, and cargo, and in the interests of the owners, it was absolutely necessary to discover the identity of the offender.

Terence opened the door of the engine-room and paused. Between the bars of the "fidley" wafts of hot air and steam, mingled with the nauseating odours of burning oil, eddied upwards. At his feet gaped a vague, ill-lighted cavern, the only approach to which was by means of a series of short, shining steel ladders.

As his eyes grew accustomed to the semi-gloom the outlines of the gleaming masses of intricate machinery became apparent; a bewildering array of polished steel, copper, and brass. A subdued roar, mingled with the clatter of drills and tapping of hammers and men's voices shouting peremptory orders came from the metal cavern. The auxiliary engines, for supplying power to the derricks and for lighting purposes, were fortunately intact.

Another length of vertical ladder had to be negotiated, with seemingly little space for the descending man between the rungs and a complication of gleaming copper pipes that threatened to hit him in the back. To add to Aubyn's discomfort, the motion of the vessel in the trough of the sullen rollers was unpleasantly noticeable. On deck he revelled in the undulating movement. In the stuffy engine-room it was very different.

"A proper death-trap if anything goes wrong," thought he. "Thank goodness I'm a deck-officer."

Terence had to descend three more lengths of ladder before he reached the plates of the engine-bed. Here there were men in swarms, for the most part greasers in dungaree suits. Amongst them Aubyn spotted Kenneth Raeburn, looking very different from his spruce appearance in the engineers' mess or when he went ashore.

Raeburn and Aubyn were good pals. Whenever, between the intervals of stowing and unloading the cargo in the holds, Terence was able to get ashore, they generally contrived to be in each other's company.

The third engineer was generally voted "a decent sort" by his messmates. His case was very similar to that of Terence Aubyn; for he had been intended for the Royal Navy until a drastic modification of the regulations, whereby cadets had eventually to specialize in marine engineering, had put him out of the running. He, too, held a commission in the Royal Naval Reserve, and in the natural buoyancy of his spirits, Kenneth Raeburn often hoped for the time when Great Britain and Germany were to measure their strength for the supremacy of the sea. Then, he realized, would be the chance for mercantile officers in the R.N.R. to prove their worth as effective assistants to their comrades of the Royal Navy.

"Looking for McBride?" repeated Raeburn. "He's down the tunnel. The main-shaft bearings are seized up. Beastly job. You won't be able to get to him, old chap."

"I must," said Terence firmly.

"At the expense of your uniform then. I'll find him. Follow me."

At the head of the next ladder Raeburn paused.

"I think I've spotted the rascal," he announced. "Keep behind me. When I drop a spanner, have a look at the fellow we're passing. I'll tell you more later on."

Along the electrically lighted platform the two young officers made their way, frequently stepping over the prostrate bodies of greasers who were tackling an intricate job under the supervision of the second engineer.

With a clatter the spanner dropped on the metal floor within a few inches of a tall, broad-shouldered, fair-haired man, dressed like his companions in a very dirty boiler suit. The fellow was lying on his side with his hands above his face as he secured an intricately-placed hexagonal nut. Hearing the clatter he turned his head, stifled an imprecation, and grasping the spanner, held it at arm's length for Raeburn to take.

Aubyn glanced at the man's face. Although outwardly a casual look he marked the fellow's features. He was convinced that he had not seen him before, but that was not to be wondered at, as there is no necessity for the deck-officers to know the greasers and firemen individually as in the case of the deckhands. Nevertheless, he felt certain that he would know the man again.

"Hang on a few moments," bawled Raeburn, for the noise in this quarter was deafening. He vanished, leaving Terence in his unaccustomed and distasteful surroundings while he went to find his chief.

Presently McBride appeared, dirty, smothered in oil and perspiring like the proverbial bull. The chief engineer was one of those officers who was not content with mere supervision. When work of an urgent nature, such as the present, was at hand, he tackled it methodically and deliberately.

"Ma compliments to Captain Ramshaw," said McBride, when Terence had delivered his message, "but I'll nae commit mesel'. The wurrk is takin' longer than I anticipated, and we're doin' double shifts to set things aright. Gie' him to onderstan' that directly we are able to raise steam, steam will be raised, but not before."

"Haven't you any idea?" asked Aubyn.

"Nay, I'll nae commit mesel'," reiterated the chief engineer, and without another word he hastened back to his cramped quarters in the tunnel of the starboard main shafting.

Raeburn followed his chum to the engine-room door.

"Look me up at seven bells to-night," he said. "We'll do a little amateur detective business. That greaser I pointed out is new to the ship. Joined us at Southampton. There's nothing out of the ordinary about that, but on one or two nights I've noticed him talking to a second-class passenger. On the first occasion I stumbled upon them by accident, and they shut up like oysters. Then when the trouble developed, I remarked this somewhat unusual meeting and kept a watch. At the same hour these two met, and the passenger handed our man a small packet of something. It might have been tobacco, of course; but curiously enough we've discovered the cause of the bearings of the two main shafts seizing and getting almost red-hot. There were phosphor-bronze filings in the drip lubricators. Now, it's a remarkable thing that it was part of this greaser's duties--Stone is his name, by the by--to attend to the lubrication of these bearings; and I'll swear he couldn't get hold of phosphor-bronze filings from the engineers' stores. So I want you to keep a lookout on the passenger; I don't know his name, but if you see them you can easily find that out."

"Why not inform McBride?" asked Terence.

"When I have proof," replied Raeburn. "So look out for me at seven bells."

The fourth officer returned to the bridge and reported the result of his brief interview.

"Very good, Mr. Aubyn," was Captain Ramshaw's only comment.

The "old man" was disappointed but not nettled by McBride's message. H e had great faith in the old Scotsman, and only sheer anxiety had prompted him to obtain a report of the progress of operations from the chief engineer. There was nothing to do but to wait patiently.

The rest of the day passed almost without incident, except that Grant, the wireless operator, reported a partial "jamming" of the aerial waves. Messages were received in a very disjointed form, and in spite of the fact that Grant requested the unknown disturber to release the "jamb," owing to the receipt of unintelligible reports, his efforts were in vain. Some vessels on shore-stations using a differently "tuned" installation were literally holding the air. The curious part of the business was that the "Saraband" received several messages in which the words "neutrality of Belgium" figured largely, but beyond that no enlightening context was obtainable.

During the afternoon Terence Aubyn had to exercise the gun-crews at drill with one of the two 4.7's that had recently been fitted to the ship. These weapons, mounted aft, one on each quarter, were for the purpose of keeping up a running fight in the event of the outbreak of war. They would enable the ship to beat off the possible attack of a hostile commerce-destroyer, or at any rate prolong the action until the arrival of a British cruiser.

Aubyn was very keen on this part of his duties. It was, until he had undergone his training in the Royal Navy, a purely honorary task. Later on he might hope to draw a modest ten pounds a year from the National Exchequer for his ability to perform a combatant duty. From a pecuniary point of view it did not seem very promising, but the fourth officer was used to meagre pay for much work. He had to be able to "read the heavens," to use at least a dozen highly complicated nautical instruments, to undergo a strenuous scientific training, and to take sole charge of a ship during his watch. Lives and property of incalculable value were in his hands, yet his pay was an amount at which many a sleek, discontented clerk would turn up his nose in utter disgust.

For half an hour Terence kept his gun's crew hard at it, going through imaginary loading exercises and training the docile weapon at imaginary targets, to the great interest of most of the passengers and to the ill-bred scorn of others who derided the whole business as idiotic make-believe.

This done the fourth officer was at leisure for rest and sleep until turned out at 4 a.m. to take his watch.

At the hour agreed upon Aubyn met Raeburn outside the engineers' mess. It was now pitch dark, for in the Tropics there is little or no twilight. The sky was overcast, although the glass was steady, and not a star shed its light on the waste of waters. The "Saraband," brilliantly lighted, still floated idly, drifting at the rate of fifteen miles a day under the influence of the weak Counter Equatorial Current.

Selecting a hiding-place in a corner thrown into deep shadow by the glare of a powerful lamp, the churns waited. Half an hour passed without result. They began to feel stiff and cramped in their confined quarters.

Presently Raeburn nudged the fourth officer.

Strolling along the alley-way was a short, sparely built man. He was dressed in a white flannel suit with a dark red cummer-bund. He was bareheaded, and as a ray of light fell upon his features Terence could see that his were of a yellow cadaverous appearance. His hair was black, thick, and closely cut. His moustache was heavy and drooping. His eyes turned furtively from side to side as he advanced, although he kept his head as rigid as if immovably fixed to his body.

He passed by their place of concealment. Aubyn could hear his soft shoes pattering upon the deck. Presently he returned, promenading the whole length of the alley-way. Thrice he did this, then, giving a swift glance behind him, stepped into a store-room immediately opposite the companion to the greasers' and firemen's quarters, the after bulkhead of which formed with the side of the ship the recess in which the two chums lay concealed.

The fellow was breathing heavily. Through the iron partition the two watchers could hear his laboured gasps which were the result not of unusual activity but of intense mental strain.

Again Raeburn touched his companion on the shoulder. Some one else was approaching--not from the engine-room hands' quarters but along the alley-way.

It was a woman, slight of build, and in spite of the heat, closely veiled. Without hesitation she went straight to the place where the suspected man was waiting.

For ten minutes the pair talked, rapidly and in low, excited tones; then together they made their way aft.

"A rotten sell," remarked Aubyn, as soon as the coast was clear. "We came to spot a pair of conspirators--not to witness a meeting between a pair of lovers."

"Shouldn't think the woman was sweet on that chap, but there's no accounting for taste," rejoined Raeburn. "That's the fellow right enough. Did you hear what they were talking about?"

"Not I; it wasn't my business," replied Terence.

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