A Watch-dog of the North Sea: A Naval Story of the Great War by Percy F. Westerman
CHAPTER XXIII
AT AULDHAIG ONCE MORE
"BY Jove, Doris!" he exclaimed. "You here? I say, am I not in ahorrible mess?"
"It might have been worse," replied the girl admiringly. "I saw yougo, and--and--I thought--oh, I never expected to see you again."
"You never know your luck," said Tressidar. He could think of nothingelse to say. The girl's concern on his behalf was more thansufficient compensation for the horrors of that five minutes facingdeath.
Someone handed him a glass of water. He drank the liquid with avidityand felt the better for it.
"I thought you were on leave, Doris," he remarked. "And you, too, arein a pretty pickle. You weren't hurt?"
The girl's face was grimed with smoke, her uniform soiled with fireand water. On the back of her left hand a rapidly rising white wealwas visible.
"No," she replied, "I was on duty. I'm glad I was, although I felthorribly frightened when the shells began to drop. My hand? That isnothing; only a little burn. But I must go. Over there, there areothers badly injured."
Left to himself, Tressidar began to realise that he had not come offlightly. Numerous burns, of which in the struggle for existence hehad been ignorant, began to assert themselves in a very forciblemanner. He stood up and promptly sat down again. The movement rackedevery limb. His muscles worked like badly oiled machinery. His headwas throbbing painfully.
An alert sick-bay man who had been discreetly keeping an eye upon theyoung officer hurried up.
"Allow me, sir," he said. "I'll get you to bed. They're preparingtemporary quarters over yonder," and he pointed in the direction ofthe rear-admiral's house.
Tressidar submitted without protest. He knew that for the time beinghe was helpless. Unless he were to miss his ship on the followingThursday, prompt treatment and absolute rest were essential.
Supported by the hospital man, the sub. walked slowly up the hill inthe wake of a long procession of cots and stretchers, each bearing ascorched and badly injured patient.
His burns attended to, Tressidar was placed in a bed and given adraught. After that he slept soundly until the following morning,when he awoke to find himself in a temporary ward with four otherofficers as fellow-patients.
"Thursday?" repeated the fleet surgeon in answer to Tressidar'sanxious question. "We'll see. Can't commit myself on that point, youknow. A lot depends upon yourself. No, nothing serious. Slight shockto the system, you know. Rest and plenty of food essential."
The whole of that day the sub. saw nothing of Doris. At first hefeared that the girl's injuries were more serious than she believed,until enquiries of one of the nurses elicited the information that"Sister Greenwood" was well and was on day duty in another ward.
Meanwhile, news was coming in fast of the progress of the Germannaval movements. The cruiser that had bombarded Auldhaig, fortunatelywithout so very serious results, had been intercepted in its flighttowards the Norwegian coast by a strong squadron of British armouredcruisers. In the burning fight which ensued, the "Heracles" withtwo consorts had succeeded in heading off two German vessels, and forthe time being the two latter were fugitives in the North Atlantic.
For the present they had eluded pursuit but a cordon was being drawnround the isolated hostile ships. On both sides of the AtlanticBritish warships were lying in wait. Retreat both to Germany and toneutral ports was cut off. Capture or destruction seemed inevitable.
Better still, the attempted raid upon the east coast of England endedin a fiasco. Warned by wireless, the British battle-cruisers issuedforth from their bases--not in pursuit of the Auldhaig raiders, asthe Germans fondly hoped, but across the North Sea to meet the mainhostile warships.
Greatly to the disappointment and disgust of the British tars, theGermans declined battle, and, turning, made off at full speed for theshelter of the guns and minefields of Heligoland.
Early on the second morning of Tressidar's enforced detention in thetemporary sick-quarters the sub. was taken into the grounds for anairing. Lying comfortably in a wheeled chair, he was deep in thecontents of a newspaper when a bandaged man in hospital clothes andaccompanied by a nursing sister and an orderly was wheeled in hisdirection.
The sister was Doris Greenwood, but the sub. had not the faintestidea of the identity of the patient.
"This man wishes to speak to you, Mr. Tressidar," said Dorisdemurely.
"You don't remember me, sir?" began the invalid.
"No, I can't say that I do," replied the sub. To tell the truth, hewished both the man and the orderly to Jericho, until he realisedthat it was solely in an official capacity that Doris was present.
"You pulled me out of that hole the night before last, sir," said thepatient, indicating the ruins of the hospital buildings, of which thecrumpled masonry and fragments of shattered walls were visible fromthe grounds. "I'm no hand at a speech, sir, but I want to thank you."
"That's nothing so far as I was concerned," replied Tressidarmodestly. He hated a fuss being made merely for doing a pluckyaction. "You're getting along all right?"
"Middling, sir. By gum!" he exclaimed with intense fervour, "it wastouch and go with me."
After a few minutes' conversation Doris gave the word for the orderlyto remove the patient, and greatly to the sub.'s disappointment shedid not linger.
Doris, however, made amends during the afternoon by spending an hourwith him. They talked of many things. Amongst other questions,Tressidar enquired after Mr. Greenwood.
"The pater's simply as skittish as a foal," replied the girl,laughing. "Since his adventure in the cave he's as keen as anythingfor duty. He's joined the National Guard, and is doing duty at alarge reservoir near Plymouth. I wish, for some reasons, I were inDevonshire now," she added wistfully. "Just fancy, it's mid-April andthere are hardly any signs of spring in the north. I'm longing foranother sight of the red earth and bright green foliage of homeThere's no place like Devonshire."
"Unless it's Cornwall," rejoined Tressidar, loyal to the county ofhis birth.
"Practically the same," agreed Doris. "It's all the West Country.Next month, I hope, I'll be able to have a few days there--unlessthere's a big action out yonder--somewhere in the North Sea, youknow."
"I hope there will be," remarked the sub. "Of course it will be aterribly costly affair when it does come off, for the Huns will fightlike wild cats rather than let their ships be scuttled in KielHarbour. But it will be the climax--an end to months and months oftedious waiting and watching."
He, too, wished for a sight of home--home in the strictest sense.Away from Great Britain, the traveller broadly regards the whole ofthe United Kingdom as "home"; within its limits he will speak of hisown county as "home;" narrowed down, "home" resolves itself, perhaps,into a small house with or without a patch of ground attached.
And now, after nearly two years of war, Britons the wide world overwere beginning to realise that home in the broadest and the narrowestsense was in danger. Until Prussian militarism was crushed once andfor all time, the freehold of the humblest cottage in Great Britainwould not be worth twelve months' purchase.
"You've heard the news of Falkenheim's escape?" asked the girl.
Tressidar had not. The latest he had heard of the German officer whohad got clear of the internment camp and had eventually been run toearth in the petrol-dep?t, was that he had been sentenced by aGeneral Court-martial to six months' imprisonment.
"He was serving his sentence in Saltport Gaol," explained Doris. "Afortnight ago a portion of the outside wall of the prison was blownin by a charge of gun-cotton. Falkenheim's friends evidently knewexactly in which part of the building he was placed, for in theconfusion he was liberated from his cell. Since then all traces ofhim have vanished. There was a bit of a stir in the papers, but ithas quieted down now. I heard Captain Garboard say that the Germanwas a particularly daring submarine officer, and that if he got backto Germany there would be considerable trouble in store for us.People seem to deprecate the spy business, but it shows how ac
"It does," agreed Tressidar wholeheartedly, but he was thinking ofone spy in particular--the author of the "Pompey" tragedy, OttoOberfurst.
As a side issue he was wondering whether, by a slice of luck, hemight manage to get a few days' leave at the same time as Doris wentsouth. Duty, naturally, came first, but when the West Countrybeckons, its call cannot lightly be set aside.
Tressidar made rapid progress from his injuries. His indomitablespirit, coupled with a clean, hard-living condition, worked wonders,and by the Thursday morning the fleet surgeon declared him fit forduty.
At noon the "Heracles" entered the harbour and moored in mid-stream.Her smoke-blackened aftermast, blistered and salt-rimmed funnels boretokens of hard steaming, while several temporarily patched holes inher lofty sides and superstructure showed that German gunnery hadtaken a toll.
Her orders were brief and hinted at more serious work: she was toland hospital cases, ship ammunition and victualling stores, fillbunkers and replenish oil-fuel, and proceed to Rendezvous K-- withthe utmost dispatch.
Tressidar's reappearance on board was the subject of considerablesurprise, for his messmates were under the erroneous impression thathe was still a prisoner of war They had heard that the cutter hadbeen picked up, and that the sub. and the boat's crew had beenforcibly removed from the Norwegian tramp in the Kattegat and takento a German port. Beyond that they were totally unaware of what hadbefallen the sub. until he turned up, like the proverbial badhalfpenny, upon the quarter-deck of H.M.S. "Heracles."
Assistant Paymaster Greenwood, with his right hand swathed insurgical bandages and his arm in a sling, was one of the first togreet his friend warmly.
"Oh, I've had a great time," he replied in answer to the sub.'senquiry as to how he sustained his injuries. "In the fire-controlplatform, you know. Tried to stop a bit of strafed shell. It wasluck. I'm off duty in the ship's office for a week at least, and thiswon't prevent me going aloft when the next scrap takes place."
Eric Greenwood was too modest to relate full details. Tressidarafterwards learnt that the assistant paymaster was assisting awounded seaman from the fire-control platform to the shrouds when aflying fragment of metal inflicted a nasty gash on the index fingerand thumb of the right hand. In spite of the pain, he saw the mansafely on deck and returned to his lofty perch. It was not until hewas on the point of collapse through loss of blood that thelieutenant noticed his plight and ordered him below.
Night and day the ship's company toiled in order to get the cruiserready for sea. Eagerly officers and crew awaited the wireless news,hoping for their country's sake that the fugitive German vessels hadbeen captured or destroyed, and for their own that they were stillafloat, so that the "Heracles" might have a hand in settling upbusiness. In thirty-six hours the cruiser was ready to proceed, andwith the first blush of dawn she slipped quietly out of harbour boundfor Rendezvous K-- the exact position of which was a jealouslyguarded secret, known only to the captain and senior navigatingofficers.