Preceded by a sailor bearing a lantern, three men came up the path. Two of them I knew to be the Italian and the captain of the U-boat. The third was Fontan, at whom I particularly wanted to have a look, for something in his walk reminded me of someone I had failed definitely to recall.
As the sailor reached the top of the cliff he turned and swung the lantern so as to show the last few steps of the rugged path. Its rays fell for a second upon the face of Fontan, and I nearly fell from my perch with amazement. Willi Bernhard, by all that was wonderful! One of the Kaisers most expert spies, who was head of one of the departments of the Königgrätzer-strasse, posing in Santander as a humble boatman. No wonder I had failed to recognise him until I saw his face!
No need for me to come any farther, said the deep voice of the U-boat captain in German. We shall lie here until midnight to-morrow, and will expect you at sundown with the latest instructions. I only want to make sure the others are ready at their stations. And then, he added, with a cruel laugh, good-bye, Athabasca!
The Athabasca was the liner I had come out to save!
I gritted my teeth with rage at his brutal callousness, and when I thought of the two thousand or so lives dependent on the Athabascas safety I could barely restrain myself from emptying my revolver into his head. That, however, would have been merely suicide, so I bided my time.
The Italian and Bernhard, as I may as well call him now, wished the captain au revoir and started to walk briskly to Santander; the sailors returned to the shore. Once the way was clear I wasted no time. I am a good runner, but never in my life have I covered three miles as quickly as I did that summer night in my dash for Santander.
I was elated beyond measure. For I had quite obviously dropped right on to the submarine supply-base, the existence of which had for months been a practical certainty. And, further, I had discovered the identity of Fontan, the German spy who was acting as the post office of the U-boats, and supplying them with all necessaries. It now remained only to smoke out the pirates nest and destroy the whole brood!
That cryptic telegram which was delivered to me at the Ezcurra in San Sebastian had been sent to Bernhard in the name of Fontan at the poste restante in San Sebastian and called for by the Italian. It was originally sent out by wireless, intercepted by the International Bureau, and retransmitted to me for my information and guidance. In the code of the maritime department of the German Secret Service at Kiel, when decoded it read:
Fontan remains here. (The following message is sent to Fontan at your poste restante.) Goods marked C.X.B. (the wireless call letters for the British liner Athabasca, from New Zealand, bound for London) arrived (meaning due to arrive) fourteenth (to-day was July 12th), twenty-three cases (twenty-three oclock Continental time, in our time 11 p.m.). Awaiting samples second quality (samples in the spy code meaning submarines second quality German first quality meaning British).
Thus the submarine commander was informed of the coming of the great liner and was lying in wait in the calm, secluded cove, ready to pounce out and sink the great ship with two thousand souls on board, including a large number of New Zealand troops.
Racing into Santander, I made for the British Consuls house, presenting so disreputable a figure that it was only with the utmost difficulty that I secured admission to the Consul himself.
Has Jeans arrived? I asked breathlessly, and, hearing that he was on his way at full speed, I told the Consul what I had learned.
Clearly it would be touch and go, but we had a little time in hand. The submarine would not leave the cove until after midnight on the thirteenth to-day was the twelfth so as to be just in time to place herself across the path of the oncoming liner.
About seven oclock next evening, lounging in the garish Café Suzio, with its noisy crowd, I saw a tall English traveller in grey tweeds saunter in. After he had swallowed a drink, I rose and went out, and he followed at once. It was the commander of the British submarine 85, and on receipt of my wireless he had come full speed to Santander. At that moment his boat was lying off the port, skilfully screened behind a big British tramp steamer that was being used as a decoy. He had come ashore, apparently from the tramp, but really from his own boat, which had submerged the moment he left it.
Well, Sant, he said eagerly, youve made a grand discovery. I got your wireless off Finisterre last night, and came here full speed. Wilson is outside Bilbao, and Matthews at Gijon, both waiting. I have sent out a message to the squadron, and we hope to make a big bag. But well get this friend of yours in the cove first, anyhow. Youll come, of course?
I eagerly assented, and we went down to the waters edge, where the tramp steamers boat was lying in charge of two men whose merchant jack rig-out hardly concealed the purposeful British bluejacket. We were soon on board the tramp. A few minutes later the submarine rose noiselessly to the surface, close alongside, and we went on board.
Now for the cove, said Jeans, as we dropped below.
Crawling along dead slow in order that the noise of our propellers might not betray us to the enemy, we approached the cove. By this time it was dark. A mile from the cove, screened by a promontory of rock, we rose noiselessly to the surface. A collapsible Berthon boat, containing half a dozen armed men, put off to guard the approach to the beach, and once more we submerged and made for the cove, showing only six inches of our periscope above the rippling waves.
There was just enough moonlight for our purpose, and as we drew near we were able to make out the enemy submarine, lying just awash, and presenting a magnificent target. Very few of the crew were on shore; obviously they were getting ready to leave. We could make out the captain, walking up and down with two men that we knew must be the Italian and Bernhard.
Jeans swung our ship slowly into position; the torpedo crew grouped themselves round the bow tube and we waited the exact moment. It was necessary that most of the crew should be on board, for our landing-party dared not risk a possible fight on Spanish soil, and if only one man escaped we should lose our chance of a big bag of the pirates, since a warning that the plot was discovered would at once be sent them by wireless.
At last the men began to go aboard. They were using a small boat which would hold only three men, and, as luck would have it, only the captain at length was left on the shore, talking to the Italian and Bernhard. The small boat, with only a single sailor in it, was being pulled ashore to fetch him when Jeans gave the single word Fire!
Our boat reeled slightly to the shock of the departing torpedo. At the range of a few hundred yards, under such circumstances, a miss was out of the question. A few seconds later a ponderous boom! blanketed by the waters, told us our torpedo had exploded and, gazing eagerly into the mirror of the periscope, I saw a blood-red flash as the enemy ship apparently flew to pieces in a confused column of spray and smoke. She must have been ripped open from end to end and, of course, disappeared instantly, with every soul on board.
Now for the rest, was Jeanss laconic remark, as we swung out to the spot where we had put the landing-party ashore.
Now for the rest, was Jeanss laconic remark, as we swung out to the spot where we had put the landing-party ashore.
They were there almost as soon as we were, bringing with them the captain, Fontan, and the Italian. Dazed with the surprise and shock of the explosion, they had made no resistance to the rush of our men. The captain, indeed, had recovered himself sufficiently to throw into the sea a case of papers, but a sailor had dived and recovered it, and to our intense delight we found it gave details of the exact plans which had been made for the destruction of the Athabasca, with the precise points at which five successive U-boats were to lie in wait for her. This was luck indeed.
Soon we were on our way to intercept and destroy the first of the lurking Huns. Running at full speed on the surface, we kept our wireless busy, and soon had the satisfaction of knowing that our dispositions had been made to circumvent the enemys plots. Finally, nearing the scene of action, we submerged.
I need not here describe the tension of the hours which followed. Amid the steady hum of the machinery, Jeans was constantly busy, now scanning the surface of the sea through our periscope, now giving a watchful eye to every detail of the submarines complicated machinery.
At last, just as the first grey streaks of dawn showed on the horizon, he called me to the periscope, and, reflected in the mirror, I saw faintly the thin plume of smoke from the funnels of the approaching liner.
We knew that somewhere in that zone an enemy submarine lay awaiting her prey.
For half an hour we were keenly on the alert, as we watched the approaching liner. The captain had been warned by wireless, and we knew there would be no lack of watchfulness on board. We could imagine the gun-crew standing at their stations, every eye strained for the first sight of the enemy.
It came at last. Almost directly between us and the liner a German U-boat thrust her periscope out of the water and launched a torpedo. We saw the big liner swing suddenly to her swiftly ported helm, and we heard afterwards that, owing to her steersmans promptness, the torpedo missed her bow by not more than a few feet.
Just as the liner turned the submarine broke water why, I never could understand. Probably her commander was too supremely certain that his shot had gone home, or else some error in navigation had brought him to the surface earlier than he intended, for obviously it was his duty to remain submerged until he was sure his work was done.
Be that as it may, it was his last mistake. As the grey whale-back of the submarine rose above the water the gun of the Athabasca spoke. The first shot was over, the second short. Before the third was fired we had also bobbed up suddenly, and the U-boat found herself the target of two antagonists.
There could be only one end to such a fight. Almost simultaneously the third shot of the Athabasca and our first rang out, and both shells found their mark. One struck the conning-tower fair and square, blowing it clean away; the other crashed into the upper part of the hull, tearing a huge gap, and in a few seconds the enemy vessel had sunk with all hands, leaving only a flood of oil on the heaving surface of the sea to show where she had disappeared.
Next day I was on the Sud Express for Paris, while Madame Gabrielle, whom I had recalled by wire, followed me a few hours later.
From Hecq in Paris I learned the full sequel of our adventure. No news of the affair ever leaked out to the public. But it appears that, owing to the discovery of the plans from Kiel in possession of the submarines captain and our wireless messages, French destroyers and British submarines, operating together, had within twelve hours cleaned out the pirates nest, sinking four more submarines and taking nearly sixty prisoners, most of whom are now behind barbed wire in Wales.
Chapter Four
The Hidden Hand in Britain
Ah! my dear Hecq you have now set me a very difficult task very difficult indeed! I found myself saying a few weeks later, after I had mastered, with a good deal of trouble, a formidable dossier which had been laid before me by the astute chief of the French Secret Service, now promoted, by the way, to be chief of the International Secret Service Bureau of the Allies.
Though the time had been short since my return from Spain, much had happened. At length unity of command in contra-espionage work had been realised as an absolute essential for securing a definite mastery over the incessant plottings of the Huns, and, with the cordial goodwill of all, Armand Hecq whose brilliant abilities had given him a commanding position had been unanimously chosen for the much coveted post.
I admit it is extremely difficult, said the short, grey-bearded, alert little man, knocking the ash from his excellent cigar, leaning back in his cane deck-chair, and regarding me with an amused smile. It is so difficult that I confess I do not see my way at all clearly. For that reason I have put the matter before you.
There can be no doubt about the seriousness of the affair, I said. The French Service have done very well so far, and so have our friends in London. We are quite well aware that during the past few weeks there has been an amazing recrudescence of German espionage, both here and in England, and even Whitehall is seriously alarmed. There is good reason for believing that working drawings of the new British trench-mortars have, by some means, been smuggled over to Germany. How they got out is a complete mystery, for the control at all the ports has been stricter than ever. Yet van Ekker has managed to get through to Holland a message from Berlin which leaves very little doubt as to the fact. It is undeniably serious, for the new mortar is a wonderful production, and I happen to know that it was intended to be one of the grand surprises in the Allies spring offensive.
Hecq grunted, and I paused. Then I went on saying:
We have a pretty good idea of the traitor in the department concerned, and he is now safely under lock and key. Unfortunately the mischief was done before he was even suspected, and the closest inquiries have failed to unearth any of his associates who would be regarded as in the slightest degree doubtful. It looks very much like a case of a hitherto thoroughly reliable man yielding to a sudden and overpowering temptation, while the real culprit the man who pulled the strings remains undiscovered. No doubt Count Wedell and his precious propaganda department have a first-class man at work, and they have so cleverly covered up the tracks that the method of their latest coup remains a mystery. It is perfectly obvious that the subterranean work of Germany is even now proceeding in France, Italy, and Great Britain.
Exactly, mon cher Sant. And you must take this particular matter in hand at once, and try to discover at least one of the fingers of what your good friends across the Channel call so appropriately the Hidden Hand. For myself, I feel quite sure that at last, after much seeking, we have alighted on the source of the whole affair, so far as England and France are concerned.
Our conversation had taken place at Armand Hecqs house out at St. Germain, beyond Paris. I had come post-haste from Lausanne, where I had been engaged with Poiry an ex-agent of the Paris Sûreté upon another matter. An urgent telegram from Hecq had warned me that the new business was most important, hence I had lost no time in answering his summons.
It was a warm afternoon, and we were seated out on the terrace overlooking the pretty garden, which was the hobby of the most remarkable and resourceful secret agent in all Europe.