British Secret Service During the Great War Part 14

I was finding the atmosphere much too warm for my liking. I began to imagine that bright-eyed, vivacious, sweet-faced lady sitting in her boudoir at home in a dainty kimono, with a winsome hand-maiden brushing the silken tresses of her crowning glory; whilst she surveyed her captivating features in the mirror and contracted her pretty forehead into ugly wrinkles as she mentally reviewed the day's proceedings.

That night at an hotel in the town not so many kilometres away from my lady's chamber a very wide-awake Englishman lay stretched at full length upon a very short bed. His legs protruded some two feet over the backboard. He was partly undressed, and he sucked vigorously at a strong black cigar. He also frowned in serious disapproval at the mental review of the day's proceedings, at an irrepressible, annoying thought which would repeat itself again and again, a conviction that if he did not clear out of that immediate neighbourhood at once that "confounded demnition woman" was certain to make trouble somewhere. Quit he must and quit he would.

That man was myself.

CHAPTER IX

WILD-FOWLING EXTRAORDINARY AND TRAWLING FOR SUBMARINES IN NEUTRAL WATERS

GERMANY'S WESTERN COAST--SHOOTING WILD-FOWL AND BEING SHOT AT--AN INTREPID SPORTSMAN--COLLAPSED ZEPPELIN--ESCAPING WAR PRISONERS--CARELESS LANDSTURMERS--A SUPPOSED-TO-BE NORWEGIAN SKIPPER--NATIVE CURIOSITY--DARE-DEVIL CHRISTIAN--A MYSTERIOUS SHIP--GOOSE-STALKING OVER A LAND MINE--TOO NEAR DEATH TO BE PLEASANT--THE NOCTURNAL SUBMARINE RAIDER--NIGHT TRAWLING FOR STRANGE FISH--ENEMY'S SECRET RECONNOITRING EXPOSED AND THWARTED.

A few years previous to the declaration of war several Englishmen took rather an unusual interest in the western coast of Germany, particularly in the islands lying near to Heligoland.

Some of these Englishmen were watched and arrested on the grounds of espionage. Some were tried and imprisoned for varying terms of years in German fortresses. Some were never caught, although they were closely chased, and were very much wanted indeed.

Maybe I was one of them. Maybe the Germans took little, if any, interest whatever in so insignificant a mortal. But the fact remains that for many years prior to 1914 I had annually visited the Danish and Schleswig-Holstein coasts on wild-fowling expeditions and for wild-goose shooting.

To those who are ignorant of the nature of the western coast of Germany and would learn concerning it, a perusal of that most interesting little volume, "The Riddle of the Sands," is recommended. No cliffs are to be found there, with the exception of some upon the islands of Heligoland and the hillsides which adorn the northern side of the Elbe on the way up to Hamburg. A low sandy sh.o.r.e running in places far out into the North Sea stretches the entire length of coastline from Holland to Denmark. The changes, additions, and developments along this forbidden strip of land, which during past years has been so jealously guarded by the Germans, have always been a source of deep interest to John Bull's Watchdogs who have the welfare of the British Empire at heart. At no time has this interest been deeper or more absorbing than since August 4th, 1914.

I knew them well. One of my wild-fowling companions had been a Frenchman, about my own age, who lived in Copenhagen. He spoke half a dozen languages, and was a very keen sportsman, and wild geese were his speciality.

Cruising in the depths of winter along the vast extent of mud-flats, oozes, shallows, and islands, which guard the west coast of Schleswig-Holstein, is no child's play. It requires bold and hardy navigators; men who are not frightened at the horrors of ice-floes, or of breakers on the bar; who can stand a temperature below zero; who can live on the coa.r.s.est of rations; and who can sleep anyhow and anywhere.

The _Nordfriesische Inseln_ tract, lying south of the island of Fano, the natural buffer to the Esbjerg fjord, was a favourite hunting-ground, but it had its drawbacks. Many a fine shot into big flocks of geese and ducks was, to the sportsman's annoyance, spoilt by the unwelcome interference of German sentries or soldiers stationed at all kinds of unexpected and outlandish points among the islands. Sometimes those interlopers would put out in boats and give chase, but we knew within a little where they were generally stationed and by taking advantage of the ground managed to avoid being captured. More than once we had been hailed and warned and ordered to keep within Danish waters or we would be shot--which, however, was nothing out of the common. There are many good fishermen residing at Nordby and Ribe (in Denmark) who have netted flat fish in these waters for years; also intermittently throughout the war, in spite of rifle bullets perpetually being fired at them.

Soon after the date particularly referred to above, the Germans mined the area fairly heavily and no channel was safe. But a local fisherman located the mines and started marking their positions, much to the annoyance of the Huns. One man in particular would insist on fishing wherever the mines were thickest. His argument was that, although the work was dangerous, the mines kept others away, to the protection of the fish, therefore the fishing must be the better for it. The Germans warned him often enough, whilst they shot at him so frequently that he became heedless of their threats and he appeared to entirely disregard their rifle fire. One day he was caught and taken before an officer, who impressed upon him that if he came there any more they would use him as a practice target for small cannon. Nevertheless he returned, and found them as good as their word. Luckily he escaped being hit, but after the experience he sold his boat, nets, and belongings, and emigrated to America.

I happened to arrive at Ribe just too late. I had travelled far to meet this man, as I was anxious for a _little more wild-fowling_; and no one knew the creeks, the channels, and the local geography of that shifting, dangerous coast more thoroughly than this bold and careless fisherman.

He was, however, by no means the only pebble on the beach. I found others.

My arrival on the frontier between the two countries coincided with certain marked events--the collapse of an airship at Sonderho, and the escape of some Russian and English prisoners of war from the compound outside Hamburg. The airship became a total wreck, and the prisoners of war succeeded in reaching Danish territory. Thence they travelled to Copenhagen, where they were well and humanely looked after.

During the autumn of 1914, and the spring of 1915, the west coast of Denmark and the extensive mileage of flats running south therefrom was not the happy hunting-ground it had been in the past. There seemed to be too many Landsturmer aimlessly wandering around carrying guns loaded with ball ammunition, which they were nothing loth to use at any target within sight that might appear above the horizon. Ducks and geese were scarce and very, very wild. They seemed to object to rifle shots even more than wild-fowlers. They were kept constantly on the move. It is true there was a regular "flight" of Zeppelins and aircraft of various shapes and make along the coast every twilight; yet these only appeared in fine weather, when it is known to all wild-fowlers that flighting birds fly too high to encourage heavy bags; whilst it must not be forgotten that so far as the country of Denmark was concerned, these foul (this pun is surely permissible) were not then lawfully in season.

Their close time, or period of protection, still remained covered. To violate it would have created much too serious an offence to be treated lightly. But to observe the movements and habits of _these unfeathered birds_ with as much secrecy and security as possible was another matter.

In due course I moved camp to the Kleiner Belt and sought sport and entertainment among the islands of the Southern Baltic, where, in the air above and in the waters beneath, there was much activity.

For sometimes a fisherman's hut sheltered a supposed-to-be Norwegian skipper, whose ship held cargo of a contraband nature which was caught by the war and thus temporarily detained. He was taking a little shooting trip by way of diversion from the monotony of waiting an opportunity to get away. That man was myself. It was a thin story, but it lasted out with local natives for the necessary time required. In harbours or bays near by were about a thousand vessels laid up in consequence of the dangers of navigation; whilst round neighbouring islands, on the Danish side, fleets of ships of varied nationality could be seen at anchor in many sheltered nooks, all too frightened to venture further on the high seas.

The natives of Northern Europe are extraordinarily inquisitive, and unless one is willing to divulge family secrets it is necessary to draw vividly upon the imagination when interrogated as to antecedents, home, and calling. It would have been dangerous in the instance in question not to have humoured this characteristic peculiarity, or to have declined to satisfy such searching curiosity. The only thing to do to ensure some degree of safety was to blow "hot air" in volumes around; to answer all questions; and, above all, to remember every detail of the untruths thus unfolded. It is a true adage that "a good liar must possess a good memory."

This seemingly annoying inconvenience had, however, its redeeming feature. The almost daily bombardment of leading questions opened up excellent opportunities for return sallies of a reciprocating nature. It was an easy step to lead from home and domestic particulars to the all-absorbing topic of the hour--the mighty overshadowing cloud of national troubles. I therefore encouraged rather than narrowed any disposition to talk, whilst I was never backward in attending any meetings of the natives in the confined and fuggy dwellings in which they congregated and resided, despite the most objectionable atmosphere.

A free hand with tobacco and a few drops (sweets) to the children added to one's popularity; and "the captain," as I was familiarly called, soon ingratiated himself far beyond all doubt or suspicion. This was as it should be.

Now the Kiel fjord was within an easy sail. Its entrance was an object of interest; whilst the Kiela Bay was used as a patrolling or exercising ground for various designs of aircraft and warships. Amongst the crowd of men out of a job was one, a mate, whose life had been pa.s.sed sailing in foreign seas. He was a devil-may-care, happy-go-lucky individual, ready to join any venture that came along. Of course he drank when he was ash.o.r.e; at sea he was a total abstainer--by compulsion. Whiskey was his weakness, wild-fowling his hobby.

He knew the haunts and habits of both short and long-winged fowl, which, in his company, I often sought, and it is a wonder we came back alive.

Every channel that was navigable round those northern islands seemed to hold German or Danish mines. Every storm broke quant.i.ties of these mines from their moorings; and every day floating mines could be seen, washed up somewhere, or reported. Many vessels were lost by unfortunate contact with them, and the sea was dotted with the mastheads of the sunken craft. Christian--that was the venturesome mate's name--thought little of this. One danger was quite equal to another with him. He argued that if fate had ordained he should be blown up by a mine, instead of being drowned, what did it matter? Call-day must come sooner or later, and after all, perhaps a quick blow-up was preferable to the prolonged suffocation of drowning. The former at least would not be a cold or a lingering death, but all over in a second, with no trouble about funerals and that kind of thing. The latter caused a shudder to think about.

At first one was inclined to believe Christian was boastful in his talk, but the following venturesome exploits prove that such was not the case.

Indented into a certain island in the Southern Baltic is a certain bay, which has always been a favourite haunt of wild geese. They visit it in thousands during the spring and autumn migrations, whilst a sprinkling of them seems to be ever present. A low promontory of sand and sand-dunes circles part of this bay, which is so washed by the sea that it is difficult to tell where the low-water mark really begins. From one point of the promontory a long spit of sand and mud projects far out into the sea. It is a peculiar formation and is much sought by waterfowl for resting and toilet purposes. During the opening months of 1915 geese made a habit of congregating here in unusual numbers.

Out at sea, in the fairway, was moored an ugly, evil-looking craft, with huge uprising bows. She was fitted with wireless, and although she had been anch.o.r.ed there since the outbreak of war, a head of steam was always kept up. Her official name and number was G. No. 53. She was supposed and alleged to be lying outside the Danish seaboard limit.

That, however, to the casual observer looked to be open to grave doubt.

She flew no flag and showed no outward sign of life on board, but she was known to be a German vessel, well crewed, victualled and provided.

Those on board could command the sand-spit before mentioned with their binoculars, as well as with other human inventions. Apparently they did not neglect to make full use of what they had to hand.

On two occasions, within a period of ten days, a couple of ardent wild-fowlers might have been observed (history seems to point to the fact that they were observed) at early dawn, crawling along the said sand-spit, close to the water's edge, on its lee-side. Very slowly indeed they worked their way along until they were within range of a small gaggle of geese which habitually rested there. On each occasion a successful shot had been recorded. Fable tells us that the pitcher can go too often to the well. These intrepid sportsmen attempted to repeat their previous successes.

It was in the gloaming of eventide. About a dozen or fifteen black (brent) geese were preening their feathers at the end of the sand-spit, apparently well satisfied with their lot and the world in general. Just under the uneven line of washed-up seaweed and other refuse two dark forms crawled along. They seemed to be hours covering the s.p.a.ce intervening between themselves and the birds--their evident quarry.

Between decks on the gloomy vessel this minor tragedy in life and death was probably an object of equal interest. The crew could watch and observe without themselves being seen. They could gloat over the spilling of blood, and the death-dealing power of well-placed explosives, without the outside world ever knowing that they had any knowledge of such events happening. How keenly they must have antic.i.p.ated.

As the sun sank deeper and deeper in the west, and the shades of night crept up from the east, the two wild-fowl hunters drew nearer and nearer to their objective. At least they began to think it time to prepare for a serenade. They were in the act of unlocking their guns when suddenly the ground immediately in front of them rose, like an active volcano, into the air and a mighty explosion shook the earth. What a shock! It raised their caps and, as Christian remarked, so singed the hair on his head and face that he would not be likely to want the attentions of a barber for a fortnight. His companion was glad enough to escape whole in body and limb, whilst he cursed the cowardly Huns under his breath for their death-dealing intentions. Christian seemed to emulate the immortal Mark Tapley. He was infernally happy and grateful to somebody to think they had helped him kill geese, which he would probably never have bagged without such a.s.sistance; and he joyfully rushed forward to pick up the dead and wounded before they could recover from the concussion consequent upon the shock of the explosion.

Natives who heard the report put it down to a floating mine which had been washed up on the beach and exploded when brought into contact with the sh.o.r.e. Had one of them visited the place where the upheaval occurred he could have seen at a glance that the depth of water was such that a mine could not have floated within half a mile.

How disappointed must have been the crew of G. No. 53.

Christian was a born sportsman. He was one of those who would have willingly exchanged a year's earnings for a red-letter day at sport. If the sport was such that danger was coupled with it, the greater the danger, the greater the excitement, and the greater his consequent enjoyment. For one reason only he was constantly lamenting that his country had not been brought into the struggle, so that he could have seized the opportunity to join actively in the fray. At heart, of course, he did not really desire that his country or his countrymen should have inflicted upon them all the horrors of war; but when a sc.r.a.p was in progress he longed with his whole soul to be in the thick of it.

Now it so happened that certain people had declared that the Germans were violating the neutrality of Denmark, or at least jeopardising her position and welfare, by certain nocturnal submarine visitations in certain waters--not so very far from the Great Belt. German officialdom replied that these complaints and protests were mythical and without foundation. Christian thought otherwise.

It was a strange coincidence that at this particular time Christian should take a violent fancy for trawling. It was perhaps strange that his particular friend should argue that the best and heaviest fish always frequented the deepest channels which ran between the islands.

Christian agreed, and supported the contention by quoting his experiences of fishing in far-off foreign seas.

He was not interrogated as to where, and when, and how, and for how long he had abandoned the forecastle for the trawl-net; nor did he give much opening for any such questions. He knew. Others might think they knew, but he knew he was right; that, according to him, was incontrovertible.

Christian's enthusiasm carried all and everything with it. A small vessel suitable for trawling purposes was secured and fitted out with the necessary gear and equipment. A chosen crew was selected. Fish were very scarce and consequently were very dear; the fortunes of all were to be made in a miraculously short s.p.a.ce of time. The skipper was a heavy-bearded individual who knew his job, but nothing beyond it. He was easily persuaded, whilst his crew followed the lead blindly, thinking only of easily-earned shekels to come. In due course the party put to sea, with Christian & Co. acting in the capacity of spare hands.

For several nights results were precarious. The mighty draughts of promised fishes did not come along, and Christian had to use all his persuasive powers, backed up with innumerable excuses and explanations, to prove why it was his theories had not produced practical solid results.

The spirits of the once optimistic crew had sunk to zero, but they were over-persuaded to venture forth yet again. It was a dark night, but the moon was due to rise at 11.30. The sails of the little vessel had been trimmed, and the trawl dropped in a well-known channel, picked off from the chart by the ever enthusiastic Christian. For a few hours nothing out of the common occurred. Towards midnight the wind freshened slightly and the moon, peeping out from occasional obscuring clouds, cast pale, fitful lights over the cold, dark waters.

Presently the watch on deck became alarmed. An extraordinary phenomenon appeared to take place. The fishing-boat gradually began to go backwards--actually into the eye of the wind, although her sails were properly set and full. The watchman rubbed his eyes and pinched himself to see whether he was properly awake, or dreaming. He looked at the trawl warp to see whether it was slackening, as he reasoned that if some current sufficiently strong to counteract the force of the wind was flowing there, however unusual or from whatsoever unknown but possible cause it might have originated, then surely the trawl warp would show it.

No. The trawl warp was tight. It was strained to its utmost. He looked at the far-off land and took bearings. He was not mistaken. _The boat was going backwards._ Her speed was easily perceptible.

He rushed to the hatchway and yelled at the top of his voice to the sleeping crew to come on deck; to which alarming summons it responded quickly enough.

Wildly gesticulating and with much waving of arms the thoroughly frightened and superst.i.tious fisherman explained matters as best he could. Others sprang to various positions in the boat to investigate for themselves. The story was indeed too true, and consternation at the unknown plainly showed itself on the countenances of all--except perhaps the imperturbable Christian and the other spare hand. Whilst the crew was debating with its skipper what was best to be done under the circ.u.mstances, another phase of the phenomenon developed. A huge, unwieldy shape gradually rose from the sea abaft the taffrail. It had a smooth, polished skin, which shone and glistened in the moonlight like the back of a whale. But on looking farther along to gauge as accurately as could be the whole length of this mysterious leviathan of the deep, a break in the smoothness of its form was apparent, together with an excrescence which the skipper of the trawler was not long in recognising as the conning tower of a submarine.