The Land That Time Forgot
the crew’s room just behind her and in time to see von Schoenvorts lean forward
and whisper something to her as she passed; but she must have guessed that she
might be watched, for she passed on.
That afternoon it clouded over; the wind mounted to a gale, and the sea rose
until the craft was wallowing and rolling frightfully. Nearly everyone aboard
was sick; the air became foul and oppressive. For twenty-four hours I did not
leave my post in the conning tower, as both Olson and Bradley were sick.
Finally I found that I must get a little rest, and so I looked about for some
one to relieve me. Benson volunteered. He had not been sick, and assured me
that he was a former R.N. man and had been detailed for submarine duty for over
two years. I was glad that it was he, for I had considerable confidence in his
loyalty, and so it was with a feeling of security that I went below and lay
down.
I slept twelve hours straight, and when I awoke and discovered what I had done,
I lost no time in getting to the conning tower. There sat Benson as wide awake
as could be, and the compass showed that we were heading straight into the
west. The storm was still raging; nor did it abate its fury until the fourth
day. We were all pretty well done up and looked forward to the time when we
could go on deck and fill our lungs with fresh air. During the whole four days
I had not seen the girl, as she evidently kept closely to her room; and during
this time no untoward incident had occurred aboard the boat—a fact which seemed
to strengthen the web of circumstantial evidence about her.
For six more days after the storm lessened we still had fairly rough weather;
nor did the sun once show himself during all that time. For the season—it was
now the middle of June—the storm was unusual; but being from southern
California, I was accustomed to unusual weather. In fact, I have discovered
that the world over, unusual weather prevails at all times of the year.
We kept steadily to our westward course, and as the _U_-33 was one of the
fastest submersibles we had ever turned out, I knew that we must be pretty
close to the North American coast. What puzzled me most was the fact that for
six days we had not sighted a single ship. It seemed remarkable that we could
cross the Atlantic almost to the coast of the American continent without
glimpsing smoke or sail, and at last I came to the conclusion that we were way
off our course, but whether to the north or to the south of it I could not
determine.
On the seventh day the sea lay comparatively calm at early dawn. There was a
slight haze upon the ocean which had cut off our view of the stars; but
conditions all pointed toward a clear morrow, and I was on deck anxiously
awaiting the rising of the sun. My eyes were glued upon the impenetrable mist
astern, for there in the east I should see the first glow of the rising sun
that would assure me we were still upon the right course. Gradually the heavens
lightened; but astern I could see no intenser glow that would indicate the
rising sun behind the mist. Bradley was standing at my side. Presently he
touched my arm.
“Look, captain,” he said, and pointed south.
I looked and gasped, for there directly to port I saw outlined through the haze
the red top of the rising sun. Hurrying to the tower, I looked at the compass.
It showed that we were holding steadily upon our westward course. Either the
sun was rising in the south, or the compass had been tampered with. The
conclusion was obvious.
I went back to Bradley and told him what I had discovered. “And,” I concluded,
“we can’t make another five hundred knots without oil; our provisions are
running low and so is our water. God only knows how far south we have run.”
“There is nothing to do,” he replied, “other than to alter our course once more
toward the west; we must raise land soon or we shall all be lost.”
I told him to do so; and then I set to work improvising a crude sextant with
which we finally took our bearings in a rough and most unsatisfactory manner;
for when the work was done, we did not know how far from the truth the result
might be. It showed us to be about 20° north and 30° west—nearly
twenty-five hundred miles off our course. In short, if our reading was anywhere
near correct, we must have been traveling due south for six days. Bradley now
relieved Benson, for we had arranged our shifts so that the latter and Olson
now divided the nights, while Bradley and I alternated with one another during
the days.
I questioned both Olson and Benson closely in the matter of the compass; but
each stoutly maintained that no one had tampered with it during his tour of
duty. Benson gave me a knowing smile, as much as to say: “Well, you and I know
who did this.” Yet I could not believe that it was the girl.
We kept to our westerly course for several hours when the lookout’s cry
announced a sail. I ordered the _U_-33’s course altered, and we bore down
upon the stranger, for I had come to a decision which was the result of
necessity. We could not lie there in the middle of the Atlantic and starve to
death if there was any way out of it. The sailing ship saw us while we were
still a long way off, as was evidenced by her efforts to escape. There was
scarcely any wind, however, and her case was hopeless; so when we drew near and
signaled her to stop, she came into the wind and lay there with her sails
flapping idly. We moved in quite close to her. She was the _Balmen_ of
Halmstad, Sweden, with a general cargo from Brazil for Spain.
I explained our circumstances to her skipper and asked for food, water and oil;
but when he found that we were not German, he became very angry and abusive and
started to draw away from us; but I was in no mood for any such business.
Turning toward Bradley, who was in the conning-tower, I snapped out:
“Gun-service on deck! To the diving stations!” We had no opportunity for drill;
but every man had been posted as to his duties, and the German members of the
crew understood that it was obedience or death for them, as each was
accompanied by a man with a pistol. Most of them, though, were only too glad to
obey me.
Bradley passed the order down into the ship and a moment later the gun-crew
clambered up the narrow ladder and at my direction trained their piece upon the
slow-moving Swede. “Fire a shot across her bow,” I instructed the gun-captain.
Accept it from me, it didn’t take that Swede long to see the error of his way
and get the red and white pennant signifying “I understand” to the masthead.
Once again the sails flapped idly, and then I ordered him to lower a boat and
come after me. With Olson and a couple of the Englishmen I boarded the ship,
and from her cargo selected what we needed—oil, provisions and water. I gave
the master of the _Balmen_ a receipt for what we took, together with an
affidavit signed by Bradley, Olson, and myself, stating briefly how we had come
into possession of the _U_-33 and the urgency of our need for what we
took. We addressed both to any British agent with the request that the owners
of the _Balmen_ be reimbursed; but whether or not they were, I do not
know.[1]
[1] Late in July, 1916, an item in the shipping news mentioned a Swedish
sailing vessel, _Balmen_, Rio de Janeiro to Barcelona, sunk by a German
raider sometime in June. A single survivor in an open boat was picked up off
the Cape Verde Islands, in a dying condition. He expired without giving any
details.
With water, food, and oil aboard, we felt that we had obtained a new lease of
life. Now, too, we knew definitely where we were, and I determined to make for
Georgetown, British Guiana—but I was destined to again suffer bitter
disappointment.
Six of us of the loyal crew had come on deck either to serve the gun or board
the Swede during our set-to with her; and now, one by one, we descended the
ladder into the centrale. I was the last to come, and when I reached the
bottom, I found myself looking into the muzzle of a pistol in the hands of
Baron Friedrich von Schoenvorts—I saw all my men lined up at one side with the
remaining eight Germans standing guard over them.
I couldn’t imagine how it had happened; but it had. Later I learned that they
had first overpowered Benson, who was asleep in his bunk, and taken his pistol
from him, and then had found it an easy matter to disarm the cook and the
remaining two Englishmen below. After that it had been comparatively simple to
stand at the foot of the ladder and arrest each individual as he descended.
The first thing von Schoenvorts did was to send for me and announce that as a
pirate I was to be shot early the next morning. Then he explained that the
_U_-33 would cruise in these waters for a time, sinking neutral and enemy
shipping indiscriminately, and looking for one of the German raiders that was
supposed to be in these parts.
He didn’t shoot me the next morning as he had promised, and it has never been
clear to me why he postponed the execution of my sentence. Instead he kept me
ironed just as he had been; then he kicked Bradley out of my room and took it
all to himself.
We cruised for a long time, sinking many vessels, all but one by gunfire, but
we did not come across a German raider. I was surprised to note that von
Schoenvorts often permitted Benson to take command; but I reconciled this by
the fact that Benson appeared to know more of the duties of a submarine
commander than did any of the stupid Germans.
Once or twice Lys passed me; but for the most part she kept to her room. The
first time she hesitated as though she wished to speak to me; but I did not
raise my head, and finally she passed on. Then one day came the word that we
were about to round the Horn and that von Schoenvorts had taken it into his
fool head to cruise up along the Pacific coast of North America and prey upon
all sorts and conditions of merchantmen.
“I’ll put the fear of God and the Kaiser into them,” he said.
The very first day we entered the South Pacific we had an adventure. It turned
out to be quite the most exciting adventure I had ever encountered. It fell
about this way. About eight bells of the forenoon watch I heard a hail from the
deck, and presently the footsteps of the entire ship’s company, from the amount
of noise I heard at the ladder. Some one yelled back to those who had not yet
reached the level of the deck: “It’s the raider, the German raider
_Geier!_”
I saw that we had reached the end of our rope. Below all was quiet—not a man
remained. A door opened at the end of the narrow hull, and presently Nobs came
trotting up to me. He licked my face and rolled over on his back, reaching for
me with his big, awkward paws. Then other footsteps sounded, approaching me. I
knew whose they were, and I looked straight down at the flooring. The girl was
coming almost at a run—she was at my side immediately. “Here!” she cried.
“Quick!” And she slipped something into my hand. It was a key—the key to my
irons. At my side she also laid a pistol, and then she went on into the
centrale. As she passed me, I saw that she carried another pistol for herself.
It did not take me long to liberate myself, and then I was at her side. “How
can I thank you?” I started; but she shut me up with a word.
“Do not thank me,” she said coldly. “I do not care to hear your thanks or any
other expression from you. Do not stand there looking at me. I have given you a
chance to do something—now do it!” The last was a peremptory command that made
me jump.
Glancing up, I saw that the tower was empty, and I lost no time in clambering
up, looking about me. About a hundred yards off lay a small, swift
cruiser-raider, and above her floated the German man-of-war’s flag. A boat had