Submarine Hunters

F. Westerman Percy

Description

Get set for high seas adventure in this thrilling read from action-adventure master Percy F. Westerman. Full of realistic details gleaned from Westerman's own time in the Royal Navy, this classic World War I story will leave readers breathless with suspense.

Sujets

• Adventure (Guyana)
• Adventure

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 août 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776528585
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE SUBMARINE HUNTERS
A STORY OF THE NAVAL PATROL WORK IN THE GREAT WAR
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PERCY F. WESTERMAN
 
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The Submarine Hunters A Story of the Naval Patrol Work in the Great War First published in 1918 ISBN 978-1-77652-858-5 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - The Mysterious Meeting on St. Mena's Island Chapter II - The Tables Turned Chapter III - Kidnapped Chapter IV - The Awakening Chapter V - Aboard U75 Chapter VI - The Tramp Chapter VII - On the Bed of the Sea Chapter VIII - Balked by a Sea-Plane Chapter IX - The Landing at Port Treherne Chapter X - A Treacherous Plot Chapter XI - Preparations Chapter XII - The White Flag—And Afterwards Chapter XIII - The Arm of the Law Chapter XIV - A Fruitless Quest Chapter XV - The Admiral Works the Oracle Chapter XVI - H.M.S. "Capella" Chapter XVII - A Double Bag Chapter XVIII - The Smoke-Signals Chapter XIX - That Friday Night Chapter XX - To the Rescue Chapter XXI - Adrift in the Channel Chapter XXII - An Unexpected Capture Chapter XXIII - Mined Chapter XXIV - "Shrap" Chapter XXV - Off the Belgian Coast Chapter XXVI - Disabled in Mid-Air Chapter XXVII - Not on Parole Chapter XXVIII - Almost Recaptured Chapter XXIX - Bound for the Baltic Chapter XXX - The Affair Off Kiel
Chapter I - The Mysterious Meeting on St. Mena's Island
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"We've made a proper mess of things this time!" ejaculated RossTrefusis—"or rather I have."
"It can't be helped," rejoined his chum, Vernon Haye. "We've done ourlevel best to get her off. How long is it before the tide floats her?"
"A matter of seven or eight hours, worse luck. You see, it was onlyhalf ebb when we landed."
Ross bent down to remove a streak of bluish-grey mud from his ankle.
"I wish we'd taken the rowing-boat instead of this heavy old tub," hecontinued. "We'll be pretty peckish before we get back to the Hall,and dinner's at seven-thirty."
Vernon laughed.
"It wouldn't be the first time I've had to go without grub," heremarked. "If you don't mind, I don't."
"Then it's no use standing here," said Ross. "Let's get on our shoesand go for a stroll."
Vernon Haye was a broad-shouldered lad of fifteen, with clear-cutfeatures and dark hair. His companion was of about the same age, but agood two inches taller. His complexion was florid, his hair of anauburn tint that narrowly escaped coming within the category of red orginger. His features were full and rounded. In short, he was atypical Cornish youth.
Ross's father, Admiral Paul Trefusis, lived at Killigwent Hall, alarge, rambling, sixteenth-century house, standing within a mile of thesea on the North Cornish coast.
Both lads went to the same public school, but owing to the fact thatVernon's father, Captain Haye, was on active service with the GrandFleet, young Haye was spending the summer holidays with his chum atKilligwent Hall.
That afternoon the lads had taken a small sailing-boat and had made forSt. Mena's Island, a small rocky piece of land lying about a mile offshore, and nearly five miles from Killigwent Cove. The island wasroughly three-quarters of a mile in length, and four hundred yards widein the broadest part. The north and west sides were precipitous, buton the side nearest to the mainland the ground sloped gradually, andwas indented by several narrow tidal coves.
The glamour of romance lay thickly around that rocky pile. Centuriesago it was the abode of a hermit, who, amongst his various self-imposedtasks, had built a chapel on the summit, from the tower of which a woodfire was kindled nightly to warn mariners of the treacherous reefs inthe vicinity of the island.
In course of time, St. Mena's Island became the haunt of wreckers andsmugglers. The chapel, in spite of its massive construction, fell avictim to the ravages of wind and weather, but still served as aconvenient shelter for the lawless Cornishmen who profited by themisfortunes of honest seamen. Immune from interference, by reason ofthe superstitious awe in which the island was held by the country-folk,the smugglers and wreckers thrived exceedingly until late in theeighteenth century, when stern measures were taken to suppress theirmisdeeds. From that time St. Mena's Island was deserted, except forthe casual visits of tourists and summer visitors from the neighbouringtowns of Padstow and Newquay, and countless numbers of sea-birds thattake up their abode in crannies in the almost inaccessible cliffs.
Ross Trefusis was right in taking the blame of their misfortunes uponhimself. He knew better, but, neglecting to take ordinary precautions,he had allowed the boat to be left high and dry by the falling tide.Upon returning to the cove the lads had found the heavy craft lying onits bilge in the stiff bluish clay, with a ridge of jagged rockscutting her off from the sea.
"Perhaps," suggested Vernon, "some other boat will put off to theisland, and we can get them to put us ashore."
"Hardly likely," was the reply. "Anyway, we'll keep a look-out. Whichwould you prefer to do—explore the Smugglers' Cave and Dead Man'sCave, or climb up to the ruins?"
"The ruins," decided young Haye eagerly. "I like fooling about oldruins, and I've already seen the caves. Besides, we can see if thereare any boats about. It's almost like being shipwrecked on a desertisland."
"Hard lines if we were," commented Ross. "Suppose we take an inventoryof our possessions? Let the see: one pocket-knife, a silver watch thathas refused duty, a notebook and pencil, and five shillings and threehalfpence. What have you to add to the common stock?"
"A knife, a pocket compass, my watch—which does go; it's nowfive-and-twenty to four—and sixteen shillings and eightpence in papermoney and hard coin."
"Not a morsel of grub between the pair of us, then," declared Ross."Outlook beastly unpromising. Faced with starvation unless we make upour minds to knock over some gulls. They are horribly fishy to eat, Ibelieve, and we've nothing to make a fire."
"It makes you pine for the flesh-pots of Kllligwent Hall, old man,"exclaimed Vernon laughingly. "Never mind, let's make a move. I votewe get rid of these sweaters. It is frightfully hot."
Stripping off their woollen garments, and placing them for safety undera gorse bush, the two lads made their way up the steep ascent to theruins, till, hot and well-nigh breathless in spite of being "intraining", they reached the summit of the island.
"What a jolly view!" exclaimed Vernon, turning and taking in thepanorama of rocky coast-line, an expanse of jagged, frowning, brownishcliffs topped by the brilliant green of the Cornish moorland.
"Not bad," agreed Ross complaisantly, for the view was no stranger tohim. "See that cliff shaped like the head and shoulders of a beardedman? That's Hidden Money Cove that I was speaking to you about lastnight. We'll go there next week, all being well. You see, there's nota sail in sight, so our chances of getting back to dinner are veryremote. What's more, unless I'm very much mistaken, there's arain-storm coming. See that dark cloud working up against the wind?"
"Yes," assented Haye. "What of it? A little rain won't hurt."
"It's the after effect," said Ross. "It's quite possible it may blowhard before night, in which case we're done for. I've known itimpossible to approach Killigwent Cove for a week at a time."
Vernon whistled.
"Sounds lively," he remarked.
"Of course that is in the winter," his chum hastened to remind him."These summer gales don't last very long, but we'll be feeling precioushungry by the time we get home, I guess."
"Look here," said Vernon after a while. "I vote we get those sweaters.We don't want to be soaked."
"Very well," assented Ross. "But there's no great hurry."
Having retrieved the sweaters, the chums leisurely retraced their wayto the ruins. For half an hour or more they wandered around theremains, descending into the dark crypt, and running considerable riskin climbing to the summit of the tower. Since the spiral stone stepshad vanished long ago, the only means of getting to the top was byclimbing the gnarled stem of the ivy which grew profusely on the faceof the building. The tower was roofless, a low, partly demolishedparapet encircling it on three sides, while a couple of weather-wornoak-beams supporting a few planks formed a kind of platform where theroof formerly existed.
"Think it's safe?" asked Vernon anxiously, as his chum, having gotastride the parapet, was about to lower himself upon the decrepitwoodwork.
"I've done it scores of times," said Ross confidently. "That's right,I'll guide your foot. Now let go."
"By Jove!" suddenly exclaimed Haye; "there's a fellow coming towardsthe ruin. How on earth did he get here?"
"Goodness only knows," said Trefusis inconsequently. "He may havelanded in Main Beach Cove. Anyhow, he's at perfect liberty to do so.I suppose he's interested in ruins."
"Let's drop a bit of stone and give him a shock when he gets here,"suggested Vernon. "We'll apologize afterwards. Ten to one he'll giveus a passage back."
"I'm not so keen on dropping chunks of stone," objected Ross. "I votewe lie low for a bit at any rate, and see what he's up to."
"Why, do you think he's a spy?" asked his companion. Trefusis gruntedscoffingly.
"Spy?" he repeated. "What object would a spy have on St. Mena'sIsland? This part of Cornwall is well outside the military area.There's nothing in the fortification line for miles. No, it's notthat. But cave ,