Part 47 (1/2)

Then we marched in the same order to the place where the five submarines were moored.

”I am going on board one of these boats,” I announced. ”Find something to take us off.”

The man whom I had engaged originally, taking on himself the part of mate, repeated my directions. A large whale-boat was found tied up in a convenient spot beside the wharf.

We all got in, and I took the tiller. The mate, who answered to the Russian name of Orloff, though the only language I heard him speak was German, said nothing till I brought the whale-boat alongside of the nearest submarine.

”I beg pardon, Captain, but I have a fancy that the boat at the far end is in better trim, if you have no choice.”

”Why didn't you tell me so at once?” I returned sharply, not too well pleased to find him so well informed.

We boarded the submarine pointed out, and found it, of course, provided with everything necessary for an immediate departure, including provisions for a week.

”You understand the navigation of the Ca.n.a.l, I suppose?” I inquired of Orloff.

”I do, sir.”

”Very good. Take the boat through. And ascertain all that you can about another submarine which must have pa.s.sed through yesterday.

Wake me if you hear or see anything.”

I lay down in the captain's berth and tried to sleep. But the excitement and, I may say, the romantic interest of the adventure proved too strong for me.

I rose again, and came to where my deputy was seated, carefully conning the boat out of the dockyard basin into the Baltic end of the great Ca.n.a.l.

We were already submerged, only the tip of our conning staff being out of the water. But by an ingenious system of tiny mirrors the steersman was able to see his way as plainly as if he had been on deck above the surface.

On approaching the lock by which the basin opened into the Ca.n.a.l, no signal appeared to be given. Silently, as if of their own accord, the huge sluices opened and shut, and we glided out into the great waterway which has made the German Navy independent of Danish good-will.

The voyage along the Kiel Ca.n.a.l in the silence of the night was deeply interesting, and were I not obliged to restrict myself severely to the naked outline of such facts as bear directly on the catastrophe, I should like to attempt a description of the weird and picturesque scene.

Keeping steadily just under the surface, we proceeded swiftly past ports and villages and lonely wharves, till the stars paled and disappeared and a faint flush overspreading the sky in front warned us that day was breaking behind us.

I searched the banks for anything resembling the craft of which I was in search, but in vain. We pa.s.sed many other s.h.i.+ps, chiefly merchantmen bound for Lubeck and Dantzig and other Baltic ports, but of course without being perceived ourselves.

When we reached the mouth of the Ca.n.a.l, I ordered Orloff to stop.

”I must go ash.o.r.e here, and inquire about the other boat,” I explained.

I saw from the expression of his face that this step was not quite to his liking, but he did not venture on any remonstrance.

He brought the boat alongside the bank, and raised her gently to the surface, to enable me to step on sh.o.r.e.

But my quest proved useless, as perhaps I ought to have foreseen.

The harbor-master, or port captain, to whom I addressed myself, affected the most entire ignorance of the exit of any submarine within the last week or more.

”What you suggest is impossible,” he a.s.sured me. ”Every submarine is well known and carefully guarded, and if one had been permitted to leave Kiel by way of the Ca.n.a.l, I should have been notified in advance. No such notification has reached me, and therefore, as you will see, no such boat can possibly have left.”