the surcouf, for such she was, was approaching at twelve knots. she was a two-funnelled craft of about 3000 tons, painted black with white upperworks. occasionally visible between the eddying clouds of smoke from her funnels fluttered the tricolour from her ensign-staff; while at her foremost truck was displayed a white diamond on a red ground, bearing the letters mm.
from the alerte's bridge, captain cain scanned the horizon. there was no other vessel in sight. even the upper part of the casquets lighthouse, now twelve miles away, was invisible. everything seemed propitious for the coming venture.
quickly the crew went to stations. all the slackness and resentment to discipline seemed to have gone by the board. orders were carried out with the utmost alacrity, until—"wot you got there, charlie?" demanded one of the hands of a messmate who was making his way aft with a red, white and black flag under his arm.
"german ensign," replied the other. "cap'n's orders."
"blowed if i'll fight under that rag," declared the first speaker hotly. "i'm an englishman, i am. don't mind the french tricolour, mark you, but the hun ensign—no, thank you. what say you, chum?"
"i draws the line at that," replied the third man, and his protest was taken up by several of the others.
"what are you men jawing about?" shouted mr. marchant, the gunner. "look alive and get that ensign made up ready to break out."
to him the seamen voiced their protest. even the gunner had his views upon the matter. he went to the captain and protested, stating that all hands were against using the german flag.
"curse them!" exclaimed captain cain angrily. "what does that matter?"
"matters a lot to them, sir," replied the gunner sturdily.
"all right then," conceded the pirate. "hoist any flag you jolly well like. if this business is bungled, don't blame me.... signalman, stand by to hoist the 'i. d.'... gunner's mate, if i give the word to open fire, knock away her foremast. we'll have to stop her wirelessing at any cost if she won't give in tamely."
throughout these preparations, rollo vyse and the sub had been inactive. they point-blank refused to bear a hand, and the crew, now respecting their principles, let them severely alone. captain cain was quick to notice the change of attitude, and from fear of causing further discontent affected to be ignorant of the presence of the two chums.
the surcouf had approached to within half a mile, when captain cain ordered the alerte to be turned sixteen points to starboard. this had the effect of bringing her on a parallel course to that of the frenchmen, although the distance between them when abreast was increased by the diameter of the pirate submarine's turning circle.
up ran the two-flag hoist, the signal to heave to under penalty of being fired upon; simultaneously, the six-inch quick-firer was unmasked and trained upon the surcouf.
the next instant captain cain experienced one of the worst surprises in his life—and he had had a few in his time.
a livid flash leapt from under the surcouf's bridge, followed almost immediately by a sharp report. before any one on board the alerte realised what had happened a seven-pounder shell burst against the dummy superstructure amidships, ripped a jagged hole in the funnel and cut away the mainstay, with the result that the mainmast, wrenching away the steel tabernacle, crashed heavily upon the poop.
captain cain was one of the first to grasp the situation. with all his faults, he was not lacking in courage when under fire. a sliver of metal had grazed his forehead, laying open the frontal bone; but in the excitement he did not heed the burning pain.
"let 'em have it on the waterline, gunner's mate," he shouted, countermanding his previous order to destroy the frenchman's wireless gear.
since he could not effect the capture of the surcouf without resistance, he determined to sink her. it meant the loss of the expected booty, but the alerte could not run the risk of a prolonged action. there was little danger of the hull of the submarine being perforated by the frenchman's light quick-firer. even if the outer skin were holed the inner plating would successfully impede the progress of the projectile. the dominating factor was the absence of any repairing base to which the alerte could retire to heal her wounds. whatever damage was received had to be made good on the high seas, and a badly battered craft would naturally be the object of interest if not of suspicion.
the gun's crew of the alerte's quick-firer rose to the occasion. as fast as the breech-block could be open and snapped to, the powerful weapon spoke. empty cartridge-shells clattering on the steel deck punctuated the sharp bark of the weapon, while shell after shell at point-blank range crashed into the surcouf's hull.
but the frenchman, in spite of the disproportionate odds in the matter of ordnance, maintained a steady fire, not only from the gun under the bridge, but from a similar weapon mounted aft. she then began to go astern, until the alerte's quick-firer was masked by the stanchions of her bridge.
by this time the surcouf's hull was holed in twenty places. a fire had broken out amidships, smoke was pouring in volumes from a dozen jagged apertures; yet not a single shell had hit her 'twixt wind and water.
for nearly a minute the alerte was raked aft without being able to reply. two of the hands rushed towards the poop with the machine-gun. before they reached their goal both were struck down by splinters of shell from a missile that had exploded against one of the cowls.
"port eight, quartermaster!" shouted captain cain. "now, lads, let her have it!"
but even as the alerte swung to starboard the surcouf put her helm hard over. she was not "out" to sink a pirate, or be sunk herself. her duty lay in saving her precious cargo.
a dense pall of smoke hid her from sight. even captain cain was at first under the impression that she had sunk suddenly; but when the thick cloud dispersed the surcouf was sighted steaming away at full speed in the direction of guernsey.
pursuit was useless. to attempt to do so would only bring the pirate submarine closer to the french coast, and there were in all probability several torpedo boats at st. malo. certainly there were plenty at brest and cherbourg, and by following the surcouf the alerte would run the grave risk of being trapped in the deep bay between cape de la hague and ushant, where the rocky and uneven bottom combined with violent currents made it a dangerous place for a submarine to rest on the bed of the sea.
the situation was a dangerous one. the surcouf had got away. already her wireless was sending out appeals for aid, and warnings that she had been fired upon by a mysterious craft.
previously, the french authorities had been sceptical about the story of the cap hoorn. that craft had, in accordance to orders from their captors, proceeded lamely into cherbourg, only to find that hostilities had not broken out between france and germany. there was the evidence afforded by her shattered rudder-head, but the french admiralty officials, beyond disclaiming responsibility, declined to investigate the damage. four hours later the cap hoorn left cherbourg for hamburg in tow of an ocean-going dutch tug.
nevertheless, the incident could not be entirely ignored. some vessel had evidently run amok in the channel. in consequence, the surcouf was one of several merchantmen to be hurriedly armed against the aggressions of the mysterious filibuster. and now the surcouf had reported the attack, and already the news had been transmitted, not only to the french naval bases, but to the british admiralty. on both sides of the channel and along the coast of ireland swift destroyers were raising steam to engage in hunting down the modern pirate craft.
"look alive, my lads!" exclaimed captain cain. "if we're to get out of this with whole necks, we must waste no time. how many casualties, mr. pengelly?"
"seven, sir: four serious, three light."
"get 'em below," continued the skipper.
"they are already, sir," replied the second in command. "parkins and brown—the two who tried to get aft with the machine-gun—are the worst hit. broadmayne and vyse carried them below under fire."
"did they?" commented captain cain. under his breath he muttered, "and a pity they hadn't lost the number of their mess." [1]
quickly all available hands got to work. the dummy funnel was lowered and preparations made to patch the gaping rent and repaint the "smoke-stack" a different colour. the gashes in the upperworks were hidden by means of oval metal plates, one inside, one out, drawn together by a butterfly nut and thread. the tabernacle of the mainmast was rebedded and a new mainstay prepared ready to set the "stick" up again.
the while a most anxious and careful watch was kept on the horizon and on the sky, since it was quite possible that units of the french aviation service might co-operate in the search.
three-quarters of an hour after breaking off the engagement with the surcouf a liner appeared in sight, bound up-channel. the alerte could have avoided her by altering helm, but captain cain decided upon a bold display of bluff. he held on.
"union castle liner, mr. pengelly," he remarked. "we'll signal her."
"what for?" demanded the astonished pengelly. "surely we've had enough for the present. besides, she's british."
"exactly," concurred the pirate skipper. "i'm going to ask her to take charge of our badly wounded cases. signalman, hoist the nc."
the letters nc signify "in distress, need immediate assistance," are never purposely ignored. corresponding to the wireless s.o.s., they would divert the largest liner or the humblest tramp.
promptly the liner altered helm and slowed down. passengers crowded to her side to look at the apparently battered tramp.
standing upon the roof of the charthouse, the alerte's signalman began to semaphore.
"alerte of london, grimsby for corunna. have been fired upon by vessel, nationality unknown, long. 3° 20' w., lat. 49° 50' n., at 10.30 a.m. to-day. vessel disappeared steering w.s.w. please report. can you receive four badly wounded men?"
to this the liner replied by semaphore that she would wireless the information, and that she would send a boat to transfer the alerte's casualties.
"many thanks," responded captain cain, through the medium of the semaphore. "no need to lower boat; ours is available."
captain cain had already sent below to warn the wounded of his intentions. they were not sorry to be clear of the pirate submarine. their chief anxiety was the thought that they might be deprived of their share of booty, but the wily captain reassured them on that point. he knew they would keep their mouths shut—at least for a period sufficiently long for his purpose. he was also ridding himself of the trouble of having useless men on board—men who would have to be fed and given a certain amount of attention and yet be totally unable to assist in working or fighting the ship.
by refusing the liner's offer to send a boat, captain cain had scored again. not only did it prevent the mail boat's officer having a look round, but it obviated the risk of broadmayne and his companion making a dash for freedom.
but the signal success of his ruse lay in the fact that the liner was already wirelessing the account of an imaginary attack upon the s.s. alerte. the message was picked up by three destroyers from cherbourg, which were then in a course that would bring them on the track of the fugitive. immediately on receipt of this misleading report the french destroyers altered helm in the direction the mythical filibuster was stated to have taken.
the four wounded men were safely transhipped, the operation being performed under the fire of at least fifty cameras—much to pengelly's disgust. he had no immediate ambition to figure in the limelight of the illustrated press; nor did captain cain show any enthusiasm, when through his binoculars he observed the liner's passengers taking snapshots of the alerte. he wished he had set up the mainmast before meeting the liner. should a photograph of the alerte in her present condition reach the french authorities—as it was fairly certain to do—there would be a lot of explanation to prove that the surcouf's assailant and the alerte were not one and the same vessel.
"do you want any further assistance?" inquired the captain of the liner.
"no, sir," answered pengelly from the boat alongside. "we're putting back to falmouth for repairs. we can do the run under our own steam."
"well, good luck to you," was the response, as the alerte's boat pushed off.
then, with a mutual dipping of ensigns, the liner and the tramp parted—the former to southampton, the latter anywhere where she might obtain immunity from the pressing attentions of the swift, vengeful destroyers.
[1] to lose the number of one's mess, i.e., to die, whether by violence or through natural causes.
