Riddle of the Sands.............................................................................................................................................1

In October last (1902), my friend 'Carruthers' visited me in my chambers, and, under a provisional pledge of

secrecy, told me frankly the whole of the adventure described in these pages. Till then I had only known as

much as the rest of his friends, namely, that he had recently undergone experiences during a yachting cruise

with a certain Mr 'Davies' which had left a deep mark on his character and habits.

At the end of his narrativewhich, from its bearing on studies and speculations of my own, as well as from

its intrinsic interest and racy delivery, made a very deep impression on mehe added that the important facts

discovered in the course of the cruise had, without a moment's delay, been communicated to the proper

authorities, who, after some dignified incredulity, due in part, perhaps, to the pitiful inadequacy of their own

secret service, had, he believed, made use of them, to avert a great national danger. I say 'he believed', for

though it was beyond question that the danger was averted for the time, it was doubtful whether they had

stirred a foot to combat it, the secret discovered being of such a nature that mere suspicion of it on this side

There, however that may be, the matter rested for a while, as, for personal reasons which will be manifest to

But events were driving them to reconsider their decision. These seemed to show that the information wrung

with such peril and labour from the German Government, and transmitted so promptly to our own, had had

none but the most transitory influence on our policy. Forced to the conclusion that the national security was

really being neglected, the two friends now had a mind to make their story public; and it was about this that

'Carruthers' wished for my advice. The great drawback was that an Englishman, bearing an honoured name,

was disgracefully implicated, and that unless infinite delicacy were used, innocent persons, and, especially, a

young lady, would suffer pain and indignity, if his identity were known. Indeed, troublesome rumours,

After weighing both sides of the question, I gave my vote emphatically for publication. The personal

drawbacks could, I thought, with tact be neutralized; while, from the public point of view, nothing but good

could come from submitting the case to the common sense of the country at large. Publication, therefore,

was agreed upon, and the next point was the form it should take 'Carruthers', with the concurrence of Mr

'Davies', was for a bald exposition of the essential facts, stripped of their warm human envelope. I was

strongly against this course, first, because it would aggravate instead of allaying the rumours that were

current; secondly, because in such a form the narrative would not carry conviction, and would thus defeat its

own end. The persons and the events were indissolubly connected; to evade, abridge, suppress, would be to

convey to the reader the idea of a concocted hoax. Indeed, I took bolder ground still, urging that the story

should be made as explicit and circumstantial as possible, frankly and honestly for the purpose of entertaining

and so of attracting a wide circle of readers. Even anonymity was undesirable. Nevertheless, certain

To cut the matter short, they asked for my assistance and received it at once. It was arranged that I should edit

the book; that 'Carruthers' should give me his diary and recount to me in fuller detail and from his own point

of view all the phases of the 'quest', as they used to call it; that Mr 'Davies' should meet me with his charts

and maps and do the same; and that the whole story should be written, as from the mouth of the former, with

its humours and errors, its light and its dark side, just as it happened; with the following few limitations. The

year it belongs to is disguised; the names of persons are throughout fictitious; and, at my instance, certain

slight liberties have been taken to conceal the identity of the English characters.

Remember, also that these persons are living now in the midst of us, and if you find one topic touched on

with a light and hesitating pen, do not blame the Editor, who, whether they are known or not, would rather

I HAVE read of men who, when forced by their calling to live for long periods in utter solitudesave for a

few black faceshave made it a rule to dress regularly for dinner in order to maintain their selfrespect and

prevent a relapse into barbarism. It was in some such spirit, with an added touch of selfconsciousness, that,

at seven o'clock in the evening of 23rd September in a recent year, I was making my evening toilet in my

chambers in Pall Mall. I thought the date and the place justified the parallel; to my advantage even; for the

obscure Burmese administrator might well be a man of blunted sensibilities and coarse fibre, and at least he is

alone with nature, while Iwell, a young man of condition and fashion, who knows the right people, belongs

to the right clubs, has a safe, possibly a brilliant, future in the Foreign Officemay be excused for a sense of

complacent martyrdom, when, with his keen appreciation of the social calendar, he is doomed to the outer

solitude of London in September. I say 'martyrdom', but in fact the case was infinitely worse. For to feel

oneself a martyr, as everybody knows, is a pleasurable thing, and the true tragedy of my position was that I

had passed that stage. I had enjoyed what sweets it had to offer in ever dwindling degree since the middle of

August, when ties were still fresh and sympathy abundant. I had been conscious that I was missed at Morven

Lodge party. Lady Ashleigh herself had said so in the kindest possible manner, when she wrote to

acknowledge the letter in which I explained, with an effectively austere reserve of language, that

circumstances compelled me to remain at my office. 'We know how busy you must be just now', she wrote,

'and I do hope you won't overwork; we shall all miss you very much.' Friend after friend 'got away' to sport

and fresh air, with promises to write and chaffing condolences, and as each deserted the sinking ship, I took a

grim delight in my misery, positively almost enjoying the first week or two after my world had been finally

I began to take a spurious interest in the remaining five millions, and wrote several clever letters in a vein of

cheap satire, indirectly suggesting the pathos of my position, but indicating that I was broadminded enough

to find intellectual entertainment in the scenes, persons, and habits of London in the dead season. I even did

rational things at the instigation of others. For, though I should have liked total isolation best, I, of course,

found that there was a sediment of unfortunates like myself, who, unlike me, viewed the situation in a most

prosaic light. There were river excursions, and so on, after officehours; but I dislike the river at any time for

its noisy vulgarity, and most of all at this season. So I dropped out of the fresh air brigade and declined H's

offer to share a riverside cottage and run up to town in the mornings. I did spend one or two weekends with

the Catesbys in Kent; but I was not inconsolable when they let their house and went abroad, for I found that

such partial compensations did not suit me. Neither did the taste for satirical observation last. A passing

thirst, which I dare say many have shared, for adventures of the fascinating kind described in the New

Arabian Nights led me on a few evenings into some shady haunts in Soho and farther eastward; but was

finally quenched one sultry Saturday night after an hour's immersion in the reeking atmosphere of a low

musichall in Ratcliffe Highway, where I sat next a portly female who suffered from the heat, and at frequent

By the first week in September I had abandoned all palliatives, and had settled into the dismal but dignified

routine of office, club, and chambers. And now came the most cruel trial, for the hideous truth dawned on me

that the world I found so indispensable could after all dispense with me. It was all very well for Lady

Ashleigh to assure me that I was deeply missed; but a letter from F, who was one of the party, written 'in

haste, just starting to shoot', and coming as a tardy reply to one of my cleverest, made me aware that the

house party had suffered little from my absence, and that few sighs were wasted on me, even in the quarter

which I had assumed to have been discreetly alluded to by the underlined all in Lady Ashleigh's 'we shall

all miss you'. A thrust which smarted more, if it bit less deeply, came from my cousin Nesta, who wrote: 'It's

horrid for you to have to be baking in London now; but, after all, it must be a great pleasure to you'

(malicious little wretch!) 'to have such interesting and important work to do.' Here was a nemesis for an

innocent illusion I had been accustomed to foster in the minds of my relations and acquaintances, especially

in the breasts of the trustful and admiring maidens whom I had taken down to dinner in the last two seasons;

a fiction which I had almost reached the point of believing in myself. For the plain truth was that my work

was neither interesting nor important, and consisted chiefly at present in smoking cigarettes, in saying that Mr

SoandSo was away and would be back about 1st October, in being absent for lunch from twelve till two,

and in my spare moments making pr�cis oflet us saythe less confidential consular reports, and

squeezing the results into castiron schedules. The reason of my detention was not a cloud on the

international horizonthough I may say in passing that there was such a cloudbut a caprice on the part of

a remote and mighty personage, the effect of which, ramifying downwards, had dislocated the carefullylaid

holiday plans of the humble juniors, and in my own small case had upset the arrangement between myself

Only one thing was needed to fill my cup of bitterness, and this it was that specially occupied me as I dressed

for dinner this evening. Two days more in this dead and fermenting city and my slavery would be at an end.

Yes, butirony of ironies!I had nowhere to go to! The Morven Lodge party was breaking up. A dreadful

rumour as to an engagement which had been one of its accursed fruits tormented me with the fresh certainty

that I had not been missed, and bred in me that most desolating brand of cynicism which is produced by

defeat through insignificance. Invitations for a later date, which I had declined in July with a gratifying sense

of being much in request, now rose up spectrally to taunt me. There was at least one which I could easily

have revived, but neither in this case nor in any other had there been any renewal of pressure, and there are

moments when the difference between proposing oneself and surrendering as a prize to one of several eagerly

competing hostesses seems too crushing to be contemplated. My own people were at Aix for my father's

gout; to join them was a pis aller whose banality was repellent. Besides, they would be leaving soon for our

home in Yorkshire, and I was not a prophet in my own country. In short, I was at the extremity of depression.

The usual preliminary scuffle on the staircase prepared me for the knock and entry of Withers. (One of the

things which had for some time ceased to amuse me was the laxity of manners, proper to the season, among

the servants of the big block of chambers where I lived.) Withers demurely handed me a letter bearing a

German postmark and marked 'Urgent'. I had just finished dressing, and was collecting my money and

gloves. A momentary thrill of curiosity broke in upon my depression as I sat down to open it. A comer on the

reverse of the envelope bore the blotted legend: 'Very sorry, but there's one other thinga pair of rigging

DEAR CARRUTHERS,I daresay you'll be surprised at hearing from me, as it's ages since we met. It is

more than likely, too, that what I'm going to suggest won't suit you, for I know nothing of your plans, and if

you're in town at all you're probably just getting into harness again and can't get away. So I merely write on

the offchance to ask if you would care to come out here and join me in a little yachting, and, I hope, duck

shooting. I know you're keen on shooting, and I sort of remember that you have done some yachting too,

though I rather forget about that. This part of the Balticthe Schleswig fiordsis a splendid

cruisinggroundAl sceneryand there ought to be plenty of duck about soon, if it gets cold enough. I

came out here via Holland and the Frisian Islands, starting early in August. My pals have had to leave me,

and I'm badly in want of another, as I don't want to lay up yet for a bit. I needn't say how glad I should be if

you could come. If you can, send me a wire to the P.O. here. Flushing and on by Hamburg will be your best

route, I think. I'm having a few repairs done here, and will have them ready sharp by the time your train

arrives. Bring your gun and a good lot of No. 4's; and would you mind calling at Lancaster's and asking for

mine, and bringing it too? Bring some oilskins. Better get the elevenshilling sort, jacket and trousersnot

the 'yachting' brand; and if you paint bring your gear. I know you speak German like a native, and that will be

a great help. Forgive this hail of directions, but I've a sort of feeling that I'm in luck and that you'll come.

Would you mind bringing me out a prismatic compass, and a pound of Raven Mixture.

This letter marked an epoch for me; but I little suspected the fact as I crumpled it into my pocket and started

languidly on the voie douloureuse which I nightly followed to the club. In Pall Mall there were no dignified

greetings to be exchanged now with wellgroomed acquaintances. The only people to be seen were some late

stragglers from the park, with a perambulator and some hot and dusty children lagging fretfully behind; some

rustic sightseers draining the last dregs of the daylight in an effort to make out from their guidebooks which

of these reverend piles was which; a policeman and a builder's cart. Of course the club was a strange one,

both of my own being closed for cleaning, a coincidence expressly planned by Providence for my

inconvenience. The club which you are 'permitted to make use of' on these occasions always irritates with its

strangeness and discomfort. The few occupants seem odd and oddly dressed, and you wonder how they got

there. The particular weekly that you want is not taken in; the dinner is execrable, and the ventilation a farce.

All these evils oppressed me tonight. And yet I was puzzled to find that somewhere within me there was a

faint lightening of the spirits; causeless, as far as I could discover. It could not be Davies's letter. Yachting in

the Baltic at the end of September! The very idea made one shudder. Cowes, with a pleasant party and hotels

handy, was all very well. An August cruise on a steam yacht in French waters or the Highlands was all very

well; but what kind of a yacht was this? It must be of a certain size to have got so far, but I thought I

remembered enough of Davies's means to know that he had no money to waste on luxuries. That brought me

to the man himself. I had known him at Oxfordnot as one of my immediate set; but we were a sociable

college, and I had seen a good deal of him, liking him for his physical energy combined with a certain

simplicity and modesty, though, indeed, he had nothing to be conceited about; liked him, in fact, in the way

that at that receptive period one likes many men whom one never keeps up with later. We had both gone

down in the same yearthree years ago now. I had gone to France and Germany for two years to learn the

languages; he had failed for the Indian Civil, and then had gone into a solicitor's office. I had only seen him

since at rare intervals, though I admitted to myself that for his part he had clung loyally to what ties of

friendship there were between us. But the truth was that we had drifted apart from the nature of things. I had

passed brilliantly into my profession, and on the few occasions I had met him since I made my triumphant

d�but in society I had found nothing left in common between us. He seemed to know none of my friends, he

dressed indifferently, and I thought him dull. I had always connected him with boats and the sea, but never

with yachting, in the sense that I understood it. In college days he had nearly persuaded me into sharing a

squalid week in some open boat he had picked up, and was going to sail among some dreary mudflats

somewhere on the east coast. There was nothing else, and the funereal function of dinner drifted on. But I

found myself remembering at the entr�e that I had recently heard, at second or third hand, of something else

about himexactly what I could not recall. When I reached the savoury, I had concluded, so far as I had

centred my mind on it at all, that the whole thing was a culminating irony, as, indeed, was the savoury in its

way. After the wreck of my pleasant plans and the fiasco of my martyrdom, to be asked as consolation to

spend October freezing in the Baltic with an eccentric nonentity who bored me! Yet, as I smoked my cigar in

the ghastly splendour of the empty smokingroom, the subject came up again. Was there anything in it?

There were certainly no alternatives at hand. And to bury myself in the Baltic at this unearthly time of year

I pulled out the letter again, and ran down its impulsive staccato sentences, affecting to ignore what a gust of

fresh air, high spirits, and good fellowship this flimsy bit of paper wafted into the jaded clubroom. On

reperusal, it was full of evil presage 'Al scenery'but what of equinoctial storms and October fogs? Every

sane yachtsman was paying off his crew now. 'There ought to be duck'vague, very vague. 'If it gets cold

enough' . . . cold and yachting seemed to be a gratuitously monstrous union. His pals had left him; why? 'Not

the "yachting" brand'; and why not? As to the size, comfort, and crew of the yachtall cheerfully ignored; so

many maddening blanks. And, by the way, why in Heaven's name 'a prismatic compass'? I fingered a few

magazines, played a game of fifty with a friendly old fogey, too importunate to be worth the labour of

resisting, and went back to my chambers to bed, ignorant that a friendly Providence had come to my rescue;

THAT two days later I should be found pacing the deck of the Flushing steamer with a ticket for Hamburg in

my pocket may seem a strange result, yet not so strange if you have divined my state of mind. You will

guess, at any rate, that I was armed with the conviction that I was doing an act of obscure penance, rumours

of which might call attention to my lot and perhaps awaken remorse in the right quarter, while it left me free

The fact was that, at breakfast on the morning after the arrival of the letter, I had still found that inexplicable

lightening which I mentioned before, and strong enough to warrant a revival of the pros and cons. An

important pro which I had not thought of before was that after all it was a goodnatured piece of

unselfishness to join Davies; for he had spoken of the want of a pal, and seemed honestly to be in need of me.

I almost clutched at this consideration. It was an admirable excuse, when I reached my office that day, for a

resigned study of the Continental Bradshaw, and an order to Carter to unroll a great creaking wallmap of

Germany and find me Flensburg. The latter labour I might have saved him, but it was good for Carter to have

something to do; and his patient ignorance was amusing. With most of the map and what it suggested I was

tolerably familiar, for I had not wasted my year in Germany, whatever I had done or not done since. Its

people, history, progress, and future had interested me intensely, and I had still friends in Dresden and Berlin.

Flensburg recalled the Danish war of '64, and by the time Carter's researches had ended in success I had

forgotten the task set him, and was wondering whether the prospect of seeing something of that lovely region

of SchleswigHolstein, as I knew from hearsay that it was, was at all to be set against such an uncomfortable

way of seeing it, with the season so late, the company so unattractive, and all the other drawbacks which I

counted and treasured as proofs of my desperate condition, if I were to go. It needed little to decide me, and I

think K's arrival from Switzerland, offensively sunburnt, was the finishing touch. His greeting was 'Hullo,

Carruthers, you here? Thought you had got away long ago. Lucky devil, though, to be going now, just in time

for the best driving and the early pheasants. The heat's been shocking out there. Carter, bring me a

Bradshaw'(an extraordinary book, Bradshaw, turned to from habit, even when least wanted, as men fondle

By lunchtime the weight of indecision had been removed, and I found myself entrusting Carter with a

telegram to Davies, P.O., Flensburg. 'Thanks; expect me 9.34 p.m. 26th'; which produced, three hours later, a

reply: 'Delighted; please bring a No. 3 Rippingille stove'a perplexing and ominous direction, which

Indeed, my resolution was continually faltering. It faltered when I turned out my gun in the evening and

thought of the grouse it ought to have accounted for. It faltered again when I contemplated the miscellaneous

list of commissions, sown broadcast through Davies's letter, to fulfil which seemed to make me a willing tool

where my chosen r�le was that of an embittered exile, or at least a condescending ally. However, I faced the

At Lancaster's I inquired for his gun, was received coolly, and had to pay a heavy bill, which it seemed to

have incurred, before it was handed over. Having ordered the gun and No. 4's to be sent to my chambers, I

bought the Raven mixture with that peculiar sense of injury which the prospect of smuggling in another's

behalf always entails; and wondered where in the world Carey and Neilson's was, a firm which Davies spoke

of as though it were as well known as the Bank of England or the Stores, instead of specializing in

'riggingscrews', whatever they might be. They sounded important, though, and it would be only polite to

and awoke new misgivings. At the Stores I asked for a No. 3 Rippingille stove, and was confronted with a

formidable and hideous piece of ironmongery, which burned petroleum in two capacious tanks, horribly

prophetic of a smell of warm oil. I paid for this miserably, convinced of its grim efficiency, but speculating as

to the domestic conditions which caused it to be sent for as an afterthought by telegram. I also asked about

riggingscrews in the yachting department, but learnt that they were not kept in stock; that Carey and

Neilson's would certainly have them, and that their shop was in the Minories, in the far east, meaning a

journey nearly as long as to Flensburg, and twice as tiresome. They would be shut by the time I got there, so

after this exhausting round of duty I went home in a cab, omitted dressing for dinner (an epoch in itself),

ordered a chop up from the basement kitchen, and spent the rest of the evening packing and writing, with the

The last of those airless nights passed. The astonished Withers saw me breakfasting at eight, and at 9.30 I was

vacantly examining riggingscrews with what wits were left me after a sulphurous ride in the Underground to

Aldgate. I laid great stress on the 3/8's, and the galvanism, and took them on trust, ignorant as to their

functions. For the elevenshilling oilskins I was referred to a villainous den in a back street, which the

shopman said they always recommended, and where a dirty and bejewelled Hebrew chaffered with me

(beginning at 18s.) over two reeking orange slabs distantly resembling moieties of the human figure. Their

odour made me close prematurely for 14s., and I hurried back (for I was due there at eleven) to my office

with my two disreputable brownpaper parcels, one of which made itself so noticeable in the close official air

that Carter attentively asked if I would like to have it sent to my chambers, and Kwas inquisitive to

bluntness about it and my movements. But I did not care to enlighten K, whose comments I knew would

I remembered, later on, the prismatic compass, and wired to the Minories to have one sent at once, feeling

rather relieved that I was not present there to be crossexamined as to size and make.

The reply was, 'Not stocked; try surveyinginstrument maker'a reply both puzzling and reassuring, for

Davies's request for a compass had given me more uneasiness than anything, while, to find that what he

wanted turned out to be a surveyinginstrument, was a no less perplexing discovery. That day I made my last

pr�cis and handed over my schedulesProcrustean beds, where unwilling facts were stretched and

torturedand said goodbye to my temporary chief, genial and lenient M, who wished me a jolly holiday

At seven I was watching a cab packed with my personal luggage and the collection of unwieldy and

incongruous packages that my shopping had drawn down on me. Two deviations after that wretched

prismatic compasswhich I obtained in the end secondhand, faute de mieux, near Victoria, at one of those

showy shops which look like jewellers' and are really pawnbrokers'nearly caused me to miss my train. But

at 8.30 I had shaken off the dust of London from my feet, and at 10.30 1 was, as I have announced, pacing the

An air from the west, cooled by a midday thunderstorm, followed the steamer as she slid through the calm

channels of the Thames estuary, passed the cordon of scintillating lightships that watch over the searoads to

the imperial city like pickets round a sleeping army, and slipped out into the dark spaces of the North Sea.

Stars were bright, summer scents from the Kent cliffs mingled coyly with vulgar steamersmells; the summer

weather held Immutably. Nature, for her part, seemed resolved to be no party to my penance, but to be

imperturbably bent on shedding mild ridicule over my wrongs. An irresistible sense of peace and detachment,

combined with that delicious physical awakening that pulses through the nervesick townsman when city airs

and bald routine are left behind him, combined to provide me, however thankless a subject, with a solid

background of resignation. Stowing this safely away, I could calculate my intentions with cold egotism. If the

weather held I might pass a not intolerable fortnight with Davies. When it broke up, as it was sure to, I could

easily excuse myself from the pursuit of the problematical ducks; the wintry logic of facts would, in any case,

decide him to lay up his yacht, for he could scarcely think of sailing home at such a season. I could then take

a chance lying ready of spending a few weeks in Dresden or elsewhere. I settled this programme comfortably

From Flushing eastward to Hamburg, then northward to Flensburg, I cut short the next day's sultry story. Past

dyke and windmill and still canals, on to blazing stubbles and roaring towns; at the last, after dusk, through a

quiet level region where the train pottered from one lazy little station to another, and at ten o'clock I found

myself, stiff and stuffy, on the platform at Flensburg, exchanging greetings with Davies.

We were both of us ill at ease. Even in the dim gaslight he clashed on my notions of a yachtsmanno cool

white ducks or neat blue serge; and where was the snowy crowned yachting cap, that precious charm that so

easily converts a landsman into a dashing mariner? Conscious that this impressive uniform, in high

perfection, was lying ready in my portmanteau, I felt oddly guilty. He wore an old Norfolk jacket, muddy

brown shoes, grey flannel trousers (or had they been white?), and an ordinary tweed cap. The hand he gave

me was horny, and appeared to be stained with paint; the other one, which carried a parcel, had a bandage on

it which would have borne renewal. There was an instant of mutual inspection. I thought he gave me a shy,

hurried scrutiny as though to test past conjectures, with something of anxiety in it, and perhaps (save the

mark!) a tinge of admiration. The face was familiar, and yet not familiar; the pleasant blue eyes, open,

cleancut features, unintellectual forehead were the same; so were the brisk and impulsive movements; there

was some change; but the moment of awkward hesitation was over and the light was bad; and, while strolling

down the platform for my luggage, we chatted with constraint about trivial things.

'By the way,' he suddenly said, laughing, 'I'm afraid I'm not fit to be seen; but it's so late it doesn't matter. I've

been painting hard all day, and just got it finished. I only hope we shall have some wind tomorrowit's

been hopelessly calm lately. I say, you've brought a good deal of stuff,' he concluded, as my belongings

'Oh, I didn't mean those things,' he said, absently. 'Thanks for bringing them, by the way. That's the stove, I

suppose; cartridges, this one, by the weight. You got the riggingscrews all right, I hope? They're not really

necessary, of course' (I nodded vacantly, and felt a little hurt); 'but they're simpler than lanyards, and you

can't get them here. It's that portmanteau,' he said, slowly, measuring it with a doubtful eye. 'Never mind!

we'll try. You couldn't do with the Gladstone only, I suppose? You see, the dinghyh'm, and there's the

hatchway, too'he was lost in thought. 'Anyhow, we'll try. I'm afraid there are no cabs; but it's quite near,

Sickening forebodings crept over me, while Davies shouldered my Gladstone and clutched at the parcels.

'Men?' He looked confused. 'Oh, perhaps I ought to have told you, I never have any paid hands; it's quite a

small boat, you knowI hope you didn't expect luxury. I've managed her singlehanded for some time. A

man would be no use, and a horrible nuisance.' He revealed these appalling truths with a cheerful assurance,

which did nothing to hide a naive apprehension of their effect on me. There was a check in our mobilization.

'It's rather late to go on board, isn't it?' I said, in a wooden voice. Someone was turning out the gaslights, and

the porter yawned ostentatiously. 'I think I'd rather sleep at an hotel tonight.' A strained pause.

'Oh, of course you can do that, if you like,' said Davies, in transparent distress of mind. 'But it seems hardly

worth while to cart this stuff all the way to an hotel (I believe they're all on the other side of the harbour), and

back again to the boat tomorrow. She's quite comfortable, and you're sure to sleep well, as you're tired.'

He seemed to be clinging timidly, but desperately, to some diplomatic end. A stony despair was invading me

Heavily loaded, we stumbled over railway lines and rubble heaps, and came on the harbour. Davies led the

'If you'll get into the dinghy,' he said, all briskness now, 'I'll pass the things down.

I descended gingerly, holding as a guide a sodden painter which ended in a small boat, and conscious that I

'Hold up!' shouted Davies, cheerfully, as I sat down suddenly near the bottom, with one foot in the water.

'Now float her up close under the quay wall, and make fast to the ring down there,' came down from above,

followed by the slack of the sodden painter, which knocked my cap off as it fell. 'All fast? Any knot'll do,' I

heard, as I grappled with this loathsome task, and then a big, dark object loomed overhead and was lowered

into the dinghy. It was my portmanteau, and, placed athwart, exactly filled all the space amidships. 'Does it

Scratching at the greasy wall to keep the dinghy close to it, I received in succession our stores, and stowed

the cargo as best I could, while the dinghy sank lower and lower in the water, and its precarious

'Catch!' was the final direction from above, and a damp soft parcel hit me in the chest. 'Be careful of that, it's

'It's a bit of a load, and she's rather deep; but I think we shall manage,' he reflected. 'You sit right aft, and I'll

I was too far gone for curiosity as to how this monstrous pyramid was to be rowed, or even for surmises as to

its foundering by the way. I crawled to my appointed seat, and Davies extricated the buried sculls by a series

of tugs, which shook the whole structure, and made us roll alarmingly. How he stowed himself into rowing

posture I have not the least idea, but eventually we were moving sluggishly out into the open water, his head

just visible in the bows. We had started from what appeared to be the head of a narrow loch, and were leaving

behind us the lights of a big town. A long frontage of lamplit quays was on our left, with here and there the

vague hull of a steamer alongside. We passed the last of the lights and came out into a broader stretch of

water, when a light breeze was blowing and dark hills could be seen on either shore.

'I'm lying a little way down the fiord, you see,' said Davies. 'I hate to be too near a town, and I found a

I roused myself. We were entering a little cove encircled by trees, and approaching a light which flickered in

It was a laborious task, with the one relief that it was not far to hand them a doubtful compensation, for

other reasons distantly shaping themselves. When the stack was transferred to the deck I followed it, tripping

over the flabby meat parcel, which was already showing ghastly signs of disintegration under the dew. Hazily

there floated through my mind my last embarkation on a yacht; my faultless attire, the trim gig and

obsequious sailors, the accommodation ladder flashing with varnish and brass in the August sun; the orderly,

snowy decks and basket chairs under the awning aft. What a contrast with this sordid midnight scramble, over

damp meat and littered packingcases! The bitterest touch of all was a growing sense of inferiority and

ignorance which I had never before been allowed to feel in my experience of yachts.

CKQUOTEDavies awoke from another reverie over my portmanteau to say, cheerily: 'I'll just show you

He dived down a companion ladder, and I followed cautiously. A complex odour of paraffin, past cookery,

'Mind your head,' said Davies, striking a match and lighting a candle, while I groped into the cabin. 'You'd

There might well have been sarcasm in this piece of advice, for I must have cut a ridiculous figure, peering

awkwardly and suspiciously round, with shoulders and head bent to avoid the ceiling, which seemed in the

'You see,' were Davies's reassuring words, 'there's plenty of room to sit upright' (which was strictly true; but I

am not very tall, and he is short). 'Some people make a point of headroom, but I never mind much about it.

That's the centreboard case,' he explained, as, in stretching my legs out, my knee came into contact with a

I had not seen this devilish obstruction, as it was hidden beneath the table, which indeed rested on it at one

end. It appeared to be a long, low triangle, running lengthways with the boat and dividing the naturally

'You see, she's a flatbottomed boat, drawing very little water without the plate; that's why there's so little

headroom. For deep water you lower the plate; so, in one way or another, you can go practically anywhere.'

I was not nautical enough to draw any very definite conclusions from this, but what I did draw were not

promising. The latter sentences were spoken from the forecastle, whither Davies had crept through a low

sliding door, like that of a rabbithutch, and was already busy with a kettle over a stove which I made out to

My eyes were used to the light now, and I took in the rest of my surroundings, which may be very simply

described. Two long cushioncovered seats flanked the cabin, bounded at the after end by cupboards, one of

which was cut low to form a sort of miniature sideboard, with glasses hung in a rack above it. The deck

overhead was very low at each side but rose shoulder high for a space in the middle, where a 'coachhouse

roof' with a skylight gave additional cabin space. Just outside the door was a foldup washingstand. On

either wall were long netracks holding a medley of flags, charts, caps, cigarboxes, banks of yam, and such

like. Across the forward bulkhead was a bookshelf crammed to overflowing with volumes of all sizes, many

upside down and some coverless. Below this were a piperack, an aneroid, and a clock with a hearty tick. All

the woodwork was painted white, and to a less jaundiced eye than mine the interior might have had an

enticing look of snugness. Some Kodak prints were nailed roughly on the after bulkhead, and just over the

'That's my sister,' said Davies, who had emerged and saw me looking at it. 'Now, let's get the stuff down.' He

ran up the ladder, and soon my portmanteau blackened the hatchway, and a great straining and squeezing

began. 'I was afraid it was too big,' came down; 'I'm sorry, but you'll have to unpack on deckwe may be

Then the wearisome tail of packages began to form a fresh stack in the cramped space at my feet, and my

back ached with stooping and moiling in unfamiliar places. Davies came down, and with unconcealed pride

introduced me to the sleeping cabin (he called the other one 'the saloon'). Another candle was lit and showed

two short and narrow berths with blankets, but no sign of sheets; beneath these were drawers, one set of

which Davies made me master of, evidently thinking them a princely allowance of space for my wardrobe.

'You can chuck your things down the skylight on to your berth as you unpack them,' he remarked. 'By the

The absurdity of argument struck me; two men, doubled up like monkeys, cannot argue.

'If you'll go out I shall be able to get out too,' I added. He seemed miserable at this ghost of an altercation, but

I pushed past, mounted the ladder, and in the expiring moonlight unstrapped that accursed portmanteau and,

brimming over with irritation, groped among its contents, sorting some into the skylight with the same feeling

that nothing mattered much now, and it was best to be done with it; repacking the rest with guilty stealth ere

Davies should discover their character, and strapping up the whole again. Then I sat down upon my white

elephant and shivered, for the chill of autumn was in the air. It suddenly struck me that if it had been raining

things might have been worse still. The notion made me look round. The little cove was still as glass; stars

above and stars below; a few white cottages glimmering at one point on the shore; in the west the lights of

Flensburg; to the east the fiord broadening into unknown gloom. From Davies toiling below there were

muffled sounds of wrenching, pushing, and hammering, punctuated occasionally by a heavy splash as

How it came about I do not know. Whether it was something pathetic in the look I had last seen on his

facea look which I associated for no reason whatever with his bandaged hand; whether it was one of those

instants of clear vision in which our separate selves are seen divided, the baser from the better, and I saw my

silly egotism in contrast with a simple generous nature; whether it was an impalpable air of mystery which

pervaded the whole enterprise and refused to be dissipated by its most mortifying and vulgarizing

incidentsa mystery dimly connected with my companion's obvious consciousness of having misled me into

joining him; whether it was only the stars and the cool air rousing atrophied instincts of youth and spirits;

probably, indeed, it was all these influences, cemented into strength by a ruthless sense of humour which

whispered that I was in danger of making a mere commonplace fool of myself in spite of all my laboured

calculations; but whatever it was, in a flash my mood changed. The crown of martyrdom disappeared, the

wounded vanity healed; that precious fund of fictitious resignation drained away, but left no void. There was

left a fashionable and dishevelled young man sitting in the dew and in the dark on a ridiculous portmanteau

which dwarfed the yacht that was to carry it; a youth acutely sensible of ignorance in a strange and strenuous

atmosphere; still feeling sore and victimized; but withal sanely ashamed and sanely resolved to enjoy himself.

I anticipate; for though the change was radical its full growth was slow. But in any case it was here and now

'Grog's ready!' came from below. Bunching myself for the descent I found to my astonishment that all trace

of litter had miraculously vanished, and a cosy neatness reigned. Glasses and lemons were on the table, and a

fragrant smell of punch had deadened previous odours. I showed little emotion at these amenities, but enough

to give intense relief to Davies, who delightedly showed me his devices for storage, praising the 'roominess'

of his floating den. 'There's your stove, you see,' he ended; 'I've chucked the old one overboard.' It was a

weakness of his, I should say here, to rejoice in throwing things overboard on the flimsiest pretexts. I

afterwards suspected that the new stove had not been 'really necessary' any more than the riggingscrews, but

We smoked and chatted for a little, and then came the problem of going to bed. After much bumping of

knuckles and head, and many giddy writhings, I mastered it, and lay between the rough blankets. Davies,

'It's quite comfortable, isn't it?' he said, as he blew out the light from where he lay, with an accuracy which

I felt prickly all over, and there was a damp patch on the pillow, which was soon explained by a heavy drop

'I suppose the deck's not leaking?' I said, as mildly as I could. 'I'm awfully sorry,' said Davies, earnestly,

tumbling out of his bunk. 'It must be the heavy dew. I did a lot of caulking yesterday, but I suppose I missed

'What's wrong with your hand?' I asked, sleepily, on his return, for gratitude reminded me of that bandage.

'Nothing much; I strained it the other day,' was the reply; and then the seemingly inconsequent remark: 'I'm

glad you brought that prismatic compass. It's not really necessary, of course; but' (muffled by blankets) 'it

I DOZED but fitfully, with a fretful sense of sore elbows and neck and many a draughty hiatus among the

blankets. It was broad daylight before I had reached the stage of torpor in which such slumber merges. That

was finally broken by the descent through the skylight of a torrent of water. I started up, bumped my head

'Sorry! I'm scrubbing decks. Come up and bathe. Slept well?' I heard a voice saying from aloft.

'Fairly well,' I growled, stepping out into a pool of water on the oilcloth. Thence I stumbled up the ladder,

dived overboard, and buried bad dreams, stiffness, frowsiness, and tormented nerves in the loveliest fiord of

the lovely Baltic. A short and furious swim and I was back again, searching for a means of ascent up the

smooth black side, which, low as it was, was slippery and unsympathetic. Davies, in a loose canvas shirt,

with the sleeves tucked up, and flannels rolled up to the knee, hung over me with a rope's end, and chatted

unconcernedly about the easiness of the job when you know how, adjuring me to mind the paint, and talking

about an accommodation ladder he had once had, but had thrown overboard because it was so horribly in the

way. When I arrived, my knees and elbows were picked out in black paint, to his consternation. Nevertheless,

as I plied the towel, I knew that I had left in those limpid depths yet another crust of discontent and

As I dressed into flannels and blazer, I looked round the deck, and with an unskilled and doubtful eye took in

all that the darkness had hitherto hidden. She seemed very small (in point of fact she was seven tons),

something over thirty feet in length and nine in beam, a size very suitable to weekends in the Solent, for

such as liked that sort of thing; but that she should have come from Dover to the Baltic suggested a world of

physical endeavour of which I had never dreamed. I passed to the aesthetic side. Smartness and beauty were

essential to yachts, in my mind, but with the best resolves to be pleased I found little encouragement here.

The hull seemed too low, and the mainmast too high; the cabin roof looked clumsy, and the skylights

saddened the eye with dull iron and plebeian graining. What brass there was, on the tillerhead and

elsewhere, was tarnished with sickly green. The decks had none of that creamy purity which Cowes expects,

but were rough and grey, and showed tarry exhalations round the seams and rusty stains near the bows. The

ropes and rigging were in mourning when contrasted with the delicate buff manilla so satisfying to the artistic

eye as seen against the blue of a June sky at Southsea. Nor was the whole effect bettered by many signs of

recent refitting. An impression of paint, varnish, and carpentry was in the air; a gaudy new burgee fluttered

aloft; there seemed to be a new rope or two, especially round the diminutive mizzenmast, which itself

looked altogether new. But all this only emphasized the general plainness, reminding one of a respectable

woman of the workingclasses trying to dress above her station, and soon likely to give it up.

That the ensemble was businesslike and solid even my untrained eye could see. Many of the deck fittings

seemed disproportionately substantial. The anchorchain looked contemptuous of its charge; the binnacle

with its compass was of a size and prominence almost comically impressive, and was, moreover the only

piece of brass which was burnished and showed traces of reverent care. Two huge coils of stout and dingy

warp lay just abaft the mainmast, and summed up the weatherbeaten aspect of the little ship. I should add

here that in the distant past she had been a lifeboat, and had been clumsily converted into a yacht by the

addition of a counter, deck, and the necessary spars. She was built, as all lifeboats are, diagonally, of two

skins of teak, and thus had immense strength, though, in the matter of looks, all a hybrid's failings.

Hunger and 'Tea's made!' from below brought me down to the cabin, where I found breakfast laid out on the

table over the centreboard case, with Davies earnestly presiding, rather flushed as to the face, and sooty as

to the fingers. There was a slight shortage of plate and crockery, but I praised the bacon and could do so

truthfully, for its crisp and steaming shavings would have put to shame the efforts of my London cook.

Indeed, I should have enjoyed the meal heartily were it not for the lowness of the sofa and table, causing a

curvature of the body which made swallowing a more lengthy process than usual, and induced a periodical

yearning to get up and stretcha relief which spelt disaster to the skull. I noticed, too, that Davies spoke

with a zest, sinister to me, of the delights of white bread and fresh milk, which he seemed to consider unusual

luxuries, though suitable to an inaugural banquet in honour of a fastidious stranger. 'One can't be always

going on shore,' he said, when I showed a discreet interest in these things. 'I lived for ten days on a big rye

'Very hard, but' (gravely) 'quite good. After that I taught myself to make rolls; had no baking powder at first,

so used Eno's fruit salt, but they wouldn't rise much with that. As for milk, condensed isI hope you don't

'Let's get under way at once,' he said, 'and sail down the fiord.' I tried for something more specific, but he was

gone, and his voice drowned in the fo'c'sle by the clatter and swish of washing up. Thenceforward events

moved with bewildering rapidity. Humbly desirous of being useful I joined him on deck, only to find that he

scarcely noticed me, save as a new and unexpected obstacle in his round of activity. He was everywhere at

onceheaving in chain, hooking on halyards, hauling ropes; while my part became that of the clown who

does things after they are already done, for my knowledge of a yacht was of that floating and inaccurate kind

which is useless in practice. Soon the anchor was up (a great rusty monster it was!), the sails set, and Davies

was darting swiftly to and fro between the tiller and jibsheets, while the Dulcibella bowed a lingering

farewell to the shore and headed for the open fiord. Erratic puffs from the high land behind made her progress

timorous at first, but soon the fairway was reached and a true breeze from Flensburg and the west took her in

its friendly grip. Steadily she rustled down the calm blue highway whose soft beauty was the introduction to a

passage in my life, short, but pregnant with moulding force, through stress and strain, for me and others.

Davies was gradually resuming his natural self, with abstracted intervals, in which he lashed the helm to

finger a distant rope, with such speed that the movements seemed simultaneous. Once he vanished, only to

reappear in an instant with a chart, which he studied, while steering, with a success that its reluctant folds

seemed to render impossible. Waiting respectfully for his revival I had full time to look about. The fiord here

was about a mile broad. From the shore we had left the hills rose steeply, but with no rugged grandeur; the

outlines were soft; there were green spaces and rich woods on the lower slopes; a little white town was

opening up in one place, and scattered farms dotted the prospect. The other shore, which I could just see,

framed between the gunwale and the mainsail, as I sat leaning against the hatchway, and sadly missing a

deckchair, was lower and lonelier, though prosperous and pleasing to the eye. Spacious pastures led up by

slow degrees to ordered clusters of wood, which hinted at the presence of some great manor house. Behind

us, Flensburg was settling into haze. Ahead, the scene was shut in by the contours of hills, some clear, some

dreamy and distant. Lastly, a single glimpse of water shining between the folds of hill far away hinted at

spaces of distant sea of which this was but a secluded inlet. Everywhere was that peculiar charm engendered

by the association of quiet pastoral country and a homely human atmosphere with a branch of the great ocean

There was another charm in the scene, due to the way in which I was viewing itnot as a pampered

passenger on a 'fine steam yacht', or even on 'a powerful modern schooner', as the yacht agents advertise, but

from the deck of a scrubby little craft of doubtful build and distressing plainness, which yet had smelt her

persistent way to this distant fiord through I knew not what of difficulty and danger, with no apparent motive

in her single occupant, who talked as vaguely and unconcernedly about his adventurous cruise as though it

I glanced round at Davies. He had dropped the chart and was sitting, or rather half lying, on the deck with one

bronzed arm over the tiller, gazing fixedly ahead, with just an occasional glance around and aloft. He still

seemed absorbed in himself, and for a moment or two I studied his face with an attention I had never, since I

had known him, given it. I had always thought it commonplace, as I had thought him commonplace, so far as

I had thought at all about either. It had always rather irritated me by an excess of candour and boyishness.

These qualities it had kept, but the scales were falling from my eyes, and I saw others. I saw strength to

obstinacy and courage to recklessness, in the firm lines of the chin; an older and deeper look in the eyes.

Those odd transitions from bright mobility to detached earnestness, which had partly amused and chiefly

annoyed me hitherto, seemed now to be lost in a sensitive reserve, not cold or egotistic, but strangely winning

from its paradoxical frankness. Sincerity was stamped on every lineament. A deep misgiving stirred me that,

clever as I thought myself, nicely perceptive of the right and congenial men to know, I had made some big

mistakeshow many, I wondered? A relief, scarcely less deep because it was unconfessed, stole in on me

with the suspicion that, little as I deserved it, the patient fates were offering me a golden chance of repairing

at least one. And yet, I mused, the patient fates have crooked methods, besides a certain mischievous humour,

for it was Davies who had asked me outthough now he scarcely seemed to need mealmost tricked me

into coming out, for he might have known I was not suited to such a life; yet trickery and Davies sounded an

Probably it was the growing discomfort of my attitude which produced this backsliding. My night's rest and

the 'ascent from the bath' had, in fact, done little to prepare me for contact with sharp edges and hard surfaces.

But Davies had suddenly come to himself, and with an 'I say, are you comfortable? Have something to sit

on?' jerked the helm a little to windward, felt it like a pulse for a moment, with a rapid look to windward, and

dived below, whence he returned with a couple of cushions, which he threw to me. I felt perversely resentful

'Oh, don't you bother,' he answered. 'I expect you're tired. Aren't we having a splendid sail? That must be

Ekken on the port bow,' peering under the sail, 'where the trees run in. I say, do you mind looking at the

chart?' He tossed it over to me. I spread it out painfully, for it curled up like a watchspring at the least

slackening of pressure. I was not familiar with charts, and this sudden trust reposed in me, after a good deal

'You see Flensburg, don't you?' he said. 'That's where we are,' dabbing with a long reach at an indefinite space

I had scarcely taken in which was land and which was water, much less the significance of the buoy, when he

'Never mind; I'm pretty sure it's all deep water about here. I expect that marks the fairway for steamers.

In a minute or two we were passing the buoy in question, on the wrong side I am pretty certain, for weeds and

sand came suddenly into view below us with uncomfortable distinctness. But all Davies said was:

'There's never any sea here, and the plate's not down,' a dark utterance which I pondered doubtfully. 'The best

of these Schleswig waters,' he went on, is that a boat of this size can go almost anywhere. There's no

navigation required. Why'At this moment a faint scraping was felt, rather than heard, beneath us.

She 'blew over', but the episode caused a little naive vexation in Davies. I relate it as a good instance of one

of his minor peculiarities. He was utterly without that didactic pedantry which yachting has a fatal tendency

to engender In men who profess it. He had tossed me the chart without a thought that I was an ignoramus, to

whom it would be Greek, and who would provide him with an admirable subject to drill and lecture, just as

his neglect of me throughout the morning had been merely habitual and unconscious independence. In the

second place, master of his m�tier, as I knew him afterwards to be, resourceful, skilful, and alert, he was

liable to lapse into a certain amateurish vagueness, half irritating and half amusing. I think truly that both

these peculiarities came from the same source, a hatred of any sort of affectation. To the same source I traced

the fact that he and his yacht observed none of the superficial etiquette of yachts and yachtsmen, that she

never, for instance, flew a national ensign, and he never wore a 'yachting suit'.

'We must jibe,' said Davies: 'just take the helm, will you?' and, without waiting for my cooperation, he

began hauling in the mainsheet with great vigour. I had rude notions of steering, but jibing is a delicate

operation. No yachtsman will be surprised to hear that the boom saw its opportunity and swung over with a

'Jibed all standing,' was his sorrowful comment. 'You're not used to her yet. She's very quick on the helm.'

I felt it was time to make my position clear. 'I'm an utter duffer at sailing,' I began. 'You'll have a lot to teach

me, or one of these days I shall be wrecking you. You see, there's always been a crew'Crew!'with

sovereign contempt'why, the whole fun of the thing is to do everything oneself.'

'I'm awfully sorry!' His dismay and repentance were comical. 'Why, it's just the other way; you may be all the

We were following the inward trend of a small bay towards a cleft in the low shore.

'That's Ekken Sound,' said Davies; 'let's look into it,' and a minute or two later we were drifting through a

dainty little strait, with a peep of open water at the end of it. Cottages bordered either side. some overhanging

the very water, some connecting with it by a rickety wooden staircase or a miniature landingstage. Creepers

and roses rioted over the walls and tiny porches. For a space on one side, a rude quay, with small smacks

floating off it, spoke of some minute commercial interests; a very small teagarden, with neglectedlooking

bowers and leafstrewn tables, hinted at some equally minute tripping interest. A pervading hue of mingled

bronze and rose came partly from the weathermellowed woodwork of the cottages and stages, and partly

from the creepers and the trees behind, where autumn's subtle fingers were already at work. Down this

exquisite sealane we glided till it ended in a broad mere, where our sails, which had been shivering and

'Ready about! ' said Davies, callously. 'We must get out of this again.' And round we swung.

'Why not anchor and stop here?' I protested; for a view of tantalizing loveliness was unfolding itself.

'Oh, we've seen all there is to be seen, and we must take this breeze while we've got it.' It was always torture

to Davies to feel a good breeze running to waste while he was inactive at anchor or on shore. The 'shore' to

him was an inferior element, merely serving as a useful annexe to the watera source of necessary supplies.

'Let's have lunch,' he pursued, as we resumed our way down the fiord. A vision of iced drinks, tempting

salads, white napery, and an attentive steward mocked me with past recollections.

'You'll find a tongue,' said the voice of doom, 'in the starboard sofalocker; beer under the floor in the bilge.

I'll see her round that buoy, if you wouldn't mind beginning.' I obeyed with a bad grace, but the close air and

cramped posture must have benumbed my faculties, for I opened the portside locker, reached down, and

grasped a sticky body, which turned out to be a pot of varnish. Recoiling wretchedly, I tried the opposite one,

combating the embarrassing heel of the boat and the obstructive edges of the centreboard case. A medley of

damp tins of varied sizes showed in the gloom, exuding a mouldy odour. Faded legends on dissolving paper,

like the remnants of old posters on a disused hoarding, spoke of soups, curries, beefs, potted meats, and other

hidden delicacies. I picked out a tongue, reimprisoned the odour, and explored for beer. It was true, I

supposed, that bilge didn't hurt it, as I tugged at the plank on my hands and knees, but I should have myself

preferred a more accessible and less humid winecellar than the cavities among slimy ballast from which I

dug the bottles. I regarded my hardwon and illfavoured pledges of a meal with giddiness and

'How are you getting on? ' shouted Davies; 'the tinopener's hanging up on the bulkhead; the plates and

I doggedly pursued my functions. The plates and knives met me halfway, for, being on the weather side, and

thus having a downward slant, its contents, when I slipped the latch, slid affectionately into my bosom, and

'That often happens,' I heard from above. 'Never mind! There are no breakables. I'm coming down to help.'

'I think I'll go on deck,' I said. 'Why in the world couldn't you lunch comfortably at Ekken and save this

infernal pandemonium of a picnic? Where's the yacht going to meanwhile? And how are we to lunch on that

slanting table? I'm covered with varnish and mud, and ankledeep in crockery. There goes. the beer!'

'You shouldn't have stood it on the table with this list on,' said Davies, with intense composure, 'but it won't

do any harm; it'll drain into the bilge' (ashes to ashes, dust to dust, I thought). 'You go on deck now, and I'll

finish getting ready.' I regretted my explosion, though wrung from me under great provocation.

'Keep her straight on as she's going,' said Davies, as I clambered up out of the chaos, brushing the dust off my

trousers and varnishing the ladder with my hands. I unlashed the helm and kept her as she was going.

We had rounded a sharp bend in the fiord, and were sailing up a broad and straight reach which every

moment disclosed new beauties, sights fair enough to be balm to the angriest spirit. A redroofed hamlet was

on our left, on the right an ivied ruin, close to the water, where some contemplative cattle stood kneedeep.

The view ahead was a white strand which fringed both shores, and to it fell wooded slopes, interrupted here

and there by low sandstone cliffs of warm red colouring, and now and again by a dingle with cracks of

I forgot petty squalors and enjoyed thingsthe coy tremble of the tiller and the backwash of air from the

dingy mainsail, and, with a somewhat chastened rapture, the lunch which Davies brought up to me and

Later, as the wind sank to lazy airs, he became busy with a larger topsail and jib; but I was content to doze

away the afternoon, drenching brain and body in the sweet and novel foreign atmosphere, and dreamily

watching the fringe of glen cliff and cool white sand as they passed ever more slowly by.

'WAKE up!' I rubbed my eyes and wondered where I was; stretched myself painfully, too, for even the

cushions had not given me a true bed of roses. It was dusk, and the yacht was stationary in glassy water,

coloured by the last afterglow. A roofing of thin uppercloud had spread over most of the sky, and a subtle

smell of rain was in the air. We seemed to be in the middle of the fiord, whose shores looked distant and

steep in the gathering darkness. Close ahead they faded away suddenly, and the sight lost itself in a grey void.

'Oh! we'll anchor anywhere here, we're just at the mouth of the fiord; I'll tow her inshore if you'll steer in that

direction.' He pointed vaguely at a blur of trees and cliff. Then he jumped into the dinghy, cast off the painter,

and, after snatching at the slack of a rope, began towing the reluctant yacht by short jerks of the sculls. The

menacing aspect of that grey void, combined with a natural preference for getting to some definite place at

night, combined to depress my spirits afresh. In my sleep I had dreamt of Morven Lodge, of heather

teaparties after glorious slaughters of grouse, of salmon leaping in amber poolsand now

'Just take a cast of the lead, will you?' came Davies's voice above the splash of the sculls.

I hurried forward and picked impotently at the bonds of the sleeping monster. But Davies was aboard again,

and stirred him with a deft touch or two, till he crashed into the water with a grinding of chain.

'It's only open from that quarter,' he replied. 'If it comes on to blow from there we shall have to clear out; but I

Another whirlwind of activity, in which I joined as effectively as I could, oppressed by the prospect of having

to 'clear out'who knows whither?at midnight. But Davies's sang froid was infectious, I suppose, and the

little den below, brightlit and soon fragrant with cookery, pleaded insistently for affection. Yachting in this

singular style was hungry work, I found. Steak tastes none the worse for having been wrapped in newspaper,

and the slight traces of the day's news disappear with frying in onions and potatochips. Davies was indeed

on his mettle for this, his first dinner to his guest; for he produced with stealthy pride, not from the

dishonoured grave of the beer, but from some more hallowed recess, a bottle of German champagne, from

'I wish you would tell me all about your cruise from England,' I asked. 'You must have had some exciting

'We must wash up first,' he replied, and I was tactfully introduced to one of his very few 'standing orders', that

tobacco should not burn, nor postprandial chat begin, until that distasteful process had ended. 'It would

never get done otherwise,' he sagely opined. But when we were finally settled with cigars, a variety of which,

culled from many portsGerman, Dutch, and BelgianDavies kept in a battered old box in the netrack,

'I'm no good at description,' he complained; 'and there's really very little to tell. We left DoverMorrison

'You had some fun there, I suppose?' I put in, thinking ofwell, of Ostend in August.

'Fun! A filthy hole I call it; we had to stop a couple of days, as we fouled a buoy coming in and carried away

the bobstay; we lay in a dirty little tidal dock, and there was nothing to do on shore.'

'We had a splendid sail to the East Scheldt, but then, like fools, decided to go through Holland by canal and

river. It was good fun enough navigating the estuarythe tides and banks there are appallingbut farther

inland it was a wretched business, nothing but paying lockdues, bumping against schuyts, and towing down

stinking canals. Never a peaceful night like thisalways moored by some quay or towpath, with people

passing and boys. Heavens! shall I ever forget those boys! A perfect murrain of them infests Holland; they

seem to have nothing in the world to do but throw stones and mud at foreign yachts.'

'By Jove! yes; but the fact is that you want a crew for that pottering inland work; they can smack the boys and

keep an eye on the sculls. A boat like this should stick to the sea, or outoftheway places on the coast.

'Oh! have I? Well, let me see, we went by Dordrecht to Rotterdam; nothing to see there, and swarms of tugs

buzzing about and shaving one's bows every second. On by the Vecht river to Amsterdam, and

thenceLord, what a relief it was!out into the North Sea again. The weather had been still and steamy;

but it broke up finely now, and we had a rattling threereef sail to the Zuyder Zee.'

He reached up to the bookshelf for what looked like an ancient ledger, and turned over the leaves.

'Oh! you'd find it dull readingif you could read it at all; it's just short notes about winds and bearings, and

so on.' He was turning some leaves over rapidly. 'Now, why don't you keep a log of what we do? I can't

'We want another chart now,' and he pulled down a second yet more stained and frayed than the first. 'We had

a splendid time then exploring the Zuyder Zee, its northern part at least, and round those islands which bound

it on the north. Those are the Frisian Islands, and they stretch for 120 miles or so eastward. You see, the first

two of them, Texel and Vlieland, shut in the Zuyder Zee, and the rest border the Dutch and German coasts.'

'What's all this?' I said, running my finger over some dotted patches which covered much of the chart. The

latter was becoming unintelligible; cleancut coasts and neat regiments of little figures had given place to a

'All sand,' said Davies, enthusiastically. 'You can't think what a splendid sailingground it is. You can

explore for days without seeing a soul. These are the channels, you see; they're very badly charted. This chart

was almost useless, but it made it all the more fun. No towns or harbours, just a village or two on the islands,

'Not a bit; you see, that's where our shallow draught and flat bottom came inwe could go anywhere, and it

didn't matter running agroundshe's perfect for that sort of work; and she doesn't really look bad either, does

He had leaned back, and I detected traces of incipient absentmindedness. His cigar, which he had lately been

lighting and relighting feverishlya habit of his when excitedseemed now to have expired for good.

'Not the least, if you know where you can run risks and where you can't; anyway, you can't possibly help it.

That chart may look simple to you'('simple!' I thought)'but at half flood all those banks are covered; the

islands and coasts are scarcely visible, they are so low, and everything looks the same.' This graphic

description of a 'splendid cruisingground' took away my breath. 'Of course there is risk

sometimeschoosing an anchorage requires care. You can generally get a nice berth under the lee of a bank,

'Pilot? Why, the whole point of the thing'he stopped short'I did take one once, later on,' he resumed,

'Oh! he ran me ashore, of course. Served me right. I wonder what the weather's doing'; he rose, glanced at the

aneroid, the clock, and the halfclosed skylight with a curious circular movement, and went a step or two up

the companionladder, where he remained for several minutes with head and shoulders in the open air.

There was no sound of wind outside, but the Dulcibella had begun to move in her sleep, as it were, rolling

drowsily to some taint send of the sea, with an occasional short jump, like the start of an uneasy dreamer.

'Rain coming,' said Davies, returning, 'and possibly wind; but we're safe enough here. It's coming from the

'We haven't finished your cruise yet,' I said. 'Light a pipe and tell me the rest.'

'After Terschellinghere it is, the third island from the westI pottered along eastward.'

'Oh! I forgot. Morrison had to leave me there. I missed him badly. but I hoped at that time to getto join me.

I could manage all right singlehanded, but for that sort of work two are much better than one. The plate's

'Well, I followed the Dutch islands, Ameland, Schiermonnikoog, Rottum (outlandish names, aren't they?),

sometimes outside them, sometimes inside. It was a bit lonely, but grand sport and very interesting. The

'I suppose those waters are only used by small local craft?' I put in; that would account for inaccuracies.' Did

Davies think that Admiralties had time to waste on smoothing the road for such quixotic little craft as his, in

'That's all very well,' he said, 'but think what folly it is. However, that's a long story, and will bore you. To cut

matters short, for we ought to be turning in, I got to Borkumthat's the first of the German islands.' He

pointed at a round bare lozenge lying in the midst of a welter of sandbanks. 'Rottumthis queer little

oneit has only one house on itis the most easterly Dutch island, and the mainland of Holland ends here,

opposite it, at the Ems River'indicating a dismal cavity in the coast, sown with names suggestive of mud,

'Why, that's only a fortnight before you wired to me! You were pretty quick getting to Flensburg. Wait a bit,

'Yes; but we scarcely need it. I only went a little way farther onto Norderney, in fact, the third German

islandthen I decided to go straight for the Baltic. I had always had an idea of getting there, as Knight did in

the Falcon. So I made a passage of it to the Eider River, there on the West Schleswig coast, took the river and

canal through to Kiel on the Baltic, and from there made another passage up north to Flensburg. I was a week

there, and then you came, and here we are. And now let's turn in. We'll have a fine sail tomorrow!' He ended

with rather forced vivacity, and briskly rolled up the chart. The reluctance he had shown from the first to talk

about his cruise had been for a brief space forgotten in his enthusiasm about a portion of it, but had returned

markedly in this bald conclusion. I felt sure that there was more in it than mere disinclination to spin nautical

yarns in the 'hardy Corinthian' style, which can be so offensive in amateur yachtsmen; and I thought I guessed

the explanation. His voyage singlehanded to the Baltic from the Frisian Islands had been a foolhardy

enterprise, with perilous incidents, which, rather than make light of, he would not refer to at all. Probably he

was ashamed of his recklessness and wished to ignore it with me, an inexperienced acquaintance not yet

enamoured of the Dulcibella's way of life, whom both courtesy and interest demanded that he should inspire

with confidence. I liked him all the better as I came to this conclusion, but I was tempted to persist a little.

'I slept the whole afternoon,' I said; 'and, to tell the truth, I rather dread the idea of going to bed, it's so tiring.

Look here, you've rushed over that last part like an express train. That passage to the Schleswig coastthe

'Well, you see what it was; about seventy miles, I suppose, direct.' He spoke low, bending down to sweep up

'I stopped once, anchored for the night; oh, that's nothing of a sail with a fair wind. By Jove! I've forgotten to

caulk that seam over your bunk, and it's going to rain. I must do it now. You turn in.'

He disappeared. My curiosity, never very consuming, was banished by concern as to the open seam; for the

prospect of a big drop, remorseless and regular as Fate, falling on my forehead throughout the night, as in the

torturechamber of the Inquisition, was alarming enough to recall me wholly to the immediate future. So I

went to bed, finding on the whole that I had made progress in the exercise, though still far from being the

trained contortionist that the occasion called for. Hammering ceased, and Davies reappeared just as I was

'I say,' he said, when he was settled in his, and darkness reigned, 'do you think you'll like this sort of thing?'

'If there are many places about here as beautiful as this,' I replied, 'I think I shall. But I should like to land

now and then and have a walk. Of course, a great deal depends on the weather, doesn't it? I hope this rain'

(drops had begun to patter overhead) 'doesn't mean that the summer's over for good.'

'Oh, you can sail just the same,' said Davies, 'unless it's very bad. There's plenty of sheltered water. There's

bound to be a change soon. But then there are the ducks. The colder and stormier it is, the better for them.'

I had forgotten the ducks and the cold, and, suddenly presented as a shootingbox in inclement weather, the

'I'm fond of shooting,' I said, 'but I'm afraid I'm only a fairweather yachtsman, and I should much prefer sun

'Scenery,' he repeated, reflectively. 'I say, you must have thought it a queer taste of mine to cruise about on

'I should loathe it,' I answered, promptly, with a clear conscience. 'Weren't you delighted yourself to get to the

Baltic? It must be a wonderful contrast to what you described. Did you ever see another yacht there?'

NOTHING disturbed my rest that night, so adaptable is youth and so masterful is nature. At times I was

remotely aware of a threshing of rain and a humming of wind, with a nervous kicking of the little hull, and at

one moment I dreamt I saw an apparition by candlelight of Davies, clad in pyjamas and huge topboots,

grasping a misty lantern of gigantic proportions. But the apparition mounted the ladder and disappeared, and I

A blast in my ear, like the voice of fifty trombones, galvanized me into full consciousness. The musician,

smiling and tousled, was at my bedside, raising a foghorn to his lips with deadly intention. 'It's a way we have

in the Dulcibella,' he said, as I started up on one elbow. 'I didn't startle you much, did I?' he added.

'Well, I like the mattinata better than the cold douche,' I answered, thinking of yesterday.

'Fine day and magnificent breeze!' he answered. My sensations this morning were vastly livelier than those of

yesterday at the same hour. My limbs were supple again and my head clear. Not even the searching wind

could mar the ecstasy of that plunge down to smooth, seductive sand, where I buried greedy fingers and

looked through a medium blue, with that translucent blue, fairyfaint and angelpure, that you see in

perfection only in the heart of ice. Up again to sun, wind, and the forest whispers from the shore; down just

once more to see the uncouth anchor stabbing the sand's soft bosom with one rusty fang, deaf and inert to the

Dulcibella's puny efforts to drag him from his prey. Back, holding by the cable as a rusty clue from heaven to

earth, up to that bourgeois little maiden's bows; back to breakfast, with an appetite not to be blunted by

condensed milk and somewhat pass� bread. An hour later we had dressed the Dulcibella for the road, and

were foaming into the grey void of yesterday, now a noble expanse of windwhipped blue, half surrounded

I cannot pretend that I really enjoyed this first sail into the open, though I was keenly anxious to do so. I felt

the thrill of those forward leaps, heard that persuasive song the foam sings under the leebow, saw the

flashing harmonies of sea and sky; but sensuous perception was deadened by nervousness. The yacht looked

smaller than ever outside the quiet fiord. The song of the foam seemed very near, the wave crests aft very

high. The novice in sailing clings desperately to the thoughts of sailorseffective, prudent persons, with a

typical jargon and a typical dress, versed in local currents and winds. I could not help missing this

professional element. Davies, as he sat grasping his beloved tiller, looked strikingly efficient in his way, and

supremely at home in his surroundings; but he looked the amateur through and through, as with one hand,

and (it seemed) one eye, he wrestled with a spraysplashed chart half unrolled on the deck beside him. All

his casual ways returned to mehis casual talk and that last adventurous voyage to the Baltic, and the

'Do you see a monument anywhere?' he said, all at once' and, before I could answer; 'We must take another

reef.' He let go of the tiller and relit his pipe, while the yacht rounded sharply to, and in a twinkling was

tossing head to sea with loud claps of her canvas and passionate jerks of her boom, as the wind leapt on its

quarry, now turning to hay, with redoubled force. The sting of spray in my eyes and the Babel of noise dazed

me; but Davies, with a pull on the foresheet, soothed the tormented little ship, and left her coolly sparring

with the waves while he shortened sail and puffed his pipe. An hour later the narrow vista of Als Sound was

visible, with quiet old Sonderburg sunning itself on the island shore, amid the Dybbol heights towering

abovethe Dybbol of bloody memory; scene of the last desperate stand of the Danes in '64, ere the Prussians

'It's early to anchor, and I hate towns,' said Davies, as one section of a lumbering pontoon bridge opened to

give us passage. But I was firm on the need for a walk, and got my way on condition that I bought stores as

well, and returned in time to admit of further advance to a 'quiet anchorage'. Never did I step on the solid

earth with stranger feelings, partly due to relief from confinement, partly to that sense of independence in

travelling, which, for those who go down to the sea in small ships, can make the foulest coalport in

Northumbria seem attractive. And here I had fascinating Sonderburg, with its broadeaved houses of carved

woodwork, each fresh with cleansing, yet reverend with age; its fairhaired Vikinglike men, and rosy,

plainfaced women, with their bullet foreheads and large mouths; Sonderburg still Danish to the core under

its Teuton veneer. Crossing the bridge I climbed the Dybboldotted with memorials of that heroic

defenceand thence could see the wee form and gossamer rigging of the Dulcibella on the silver ribbon of

the Sound. and was reminded by the sight that there were stores to be bought. So I hurried down again to the

old quarter and bargained over eggs and bread with a dear old lady, pink as a d�butante, made a patriotic

pretence of not understanding German, amid called in her strapping son, whose few words of English, being

chiefly nautical slang picked up on a British trawler, were peculiarly useless for the purpose. Davies had tea

ready when I came aboard again, and, drinking it on deck, we proceeded up the sheltered Sound, which, in

spite of its imposing name, was no bigger than an inland river, only the hosts of rainbow jellyfish reminding

us that we were threading a highway of ocean. There is no rise and fall of tide in these regions to disfigure the

shore with mud. Here was a shelving gravel bank; there a bed of whispering rushes; there again young birch

trees growing to the very brink, each wearing a stocking of bright moss and setting its foot firmly in among

Davies was preoccupied, but he lighted up when I talked of the Danish war. 'Germany's a thundering great

nation,' he said; 'I wonder if we shall ever fight her.' A little incident that happened after we anchored

deepened the impression left by this conversation. We crept at dusk into a shaded backwater, where our keel

almost touched the gravel bed. Opposite us on the Alsen shore there showed, cleancut against the sky, the

'I wonder what that is,' I said. It was scarcely a minute's row in the dinghy, and when the anchor was down

we sculled over to it. A bank of loam led to gorse and bramble. Pushing aside some branches we came to a

slender Gothic memorial in grey stone, inscribed with basreliefs of battle scenes, showing Prussians forcing

a landing in boats and Danes resisting with savage tenacity. In the failing light we spelt out an inscription:

'Den bei dem MeeresUebergange und der Eroberung von Alsen am 29. Juni 1864 heldenm�thig gefallenen

zum ehrenden Ged�chtniss.' 'To the honoured memory of those who died heroically at the invasion and

storming of Alsen.' I knew the German passion for commemoration; I had seen similar memorials on Alsatian

battlefields, and several on the Dybbol only that afternoon; but there was something in the scene, the hour,

and the circumstances, which made this one seem singularly touching. As for Davies, I scarcely recognized

him; his eyes flashed and filled with tears as he glanced from the inscription to the path we had followed and

the water beyond. 'It was a landing in boats, I suppose,' he said, half to himself. 'I wonder they managed it.

What does heldenm�thig mean?''Heroically.'Heldenm�thig gefallenen,' he repeated, under his breath,

Our conversation at dinner turned naturally on war, and in naval warfare I found I had come upon Davies's

literary hobby. I had not hitherto paid attention to the medley on our bookshelf, but I now saw that, besides a

Nautical Almanack and some dilapidated Sailing Directions, there were several books on the cruises of small

yachts, and also some big volumes crushed in anyhow or lying on the top. Squinting painfully at them I saw

'It's a tremendously interesting subject,' said Davies, pulling down (in two pieces) a volume of Mahan's

Dinner flagged (and froze) while he illustrated a point by reference to the muchthumbed pages. He was very

keen, and not very articulate. I knew just enough to be an intelligent listener, and, though hungry, was

'I should think not,' I protested. 'But you might just have a look at the chops.'

They had indeed been crying aloud for notice for some minutes, and drew candid attention to their neglect

when they appeared. The diversion they caused put Davies out of vein. I tried to revive the subject, but he

The untidy bookshelf reminded me of the logbook, and when Davies had retired with the crockery to the

forecastle, I pulled the ledger down and turned over the leaves. It was a mass of short entries, with cryptic

abbreviations, winds, tides, weather, and courses appearing to predominate. The voyage from Dover to

Ostend was dismissed in two lines: 'Under way 7 p.m., wind W.S.W. moderate; West Hinder 5 a.m., outside

all banks Ostend 11 a.m.' The Scheldt had a couple of pages very technical and staccato in style. bland

Holland was given a contemptuous summary, with some halfhearted allusions to windmills, and so on, and

At Amsterdam technicalities began again, and a brisker tone pervaded the entries, which became

progressively fuller as the writer cruised on the Frisian coast. He was clearly in better spirits, for here and

there were quaint and laboured efforts to describe nature out of material which, as far as I could judge, was

repellent enough to discourage the most brilliant and observant of writers; with an occasional note of a visit

on shore, generally reached by a walk of half a mile over sand, and of talks with shop people and fishermen.

But such lighter relief was rare. The bulk dealt with channels and shoals with weird and depressing names,

with the centreplate, the sails, and the wind, buoys and 'booms', tides and 'berths' for the night. 'Kedging off'

appeared to be a frequent diversion; 'running aground' was of almost daily occurrence.

It was not easy reading, and I turned the leaves rapidly. I was curious, too, to see the latter part. I came to a

point where the rain of little sentences, pattering out like small shot, ceased abruptly. It was at the end of 9th

September. That day, with its 'kedging' and 'boomdodging', was filled in with the usual detail. The log then

leapt over three days, and went on: '13th. Sept.Wind W.N.W. fresh. Decided to go to Baltic. Sailed 4 a.m.

Quick passage E. S. to mouth of Weser. Anchored for night under Hohenh�rn Sand. 14th Sept.Nil. 15th

Sept.Under way at 4 a.m. Wind East moderate. Course W. by S.: four miles; N.E. by N. fifteen miles

Norderpiep 9.30. Eider River 11.30.' This recital of naked facts was quite characteristic when 'passages' were

concerned, and any curiosity I had felt about his reticence on the previous night would have been rather

allayed than stimulated had I not noticed that a page had been torn out of the book just at this point. The

frayed edge left had been pruned and picked into very small limits; but dissimulation was not Davies's strong

point, and a child could have seen that a leaf was missing, and that the entries, starting from the evening of

9th September (where a page ended), had been written together at one sitting. I was on the point of calling to

Davies, and chaffing him with having committed a grave offence against maritime law in having 'cooked' his

log; but I checked myself, I scarcely know why, probably because I guessed the joke would touch a sensitive

place and fail. Delicacy shrank from seeing him compelled either to amplify a deception or blunder out a

confessionhe was too easy a prey; and, after all, the matter was of small moment. I returned the book to the

shelf, the only definite result of its perusal being to recall my promise to keep a diary myself, and I then and

We were just lighting our cigars when we heard voices and the splash of oars, followed by a bump against the

hull which made Davies wince, as violations of his paint always did. 'Guten Abend; wo fahren Sie bin?'

greeted us as we climbed on deck. It turned out to be some jovial fishermen returning to their smack from a

visit to Sonderburg. A short dialogue proved to them that we were mad Englishmen in bitter need of charity.

'Come to Satrup,' they said; 'all the smacks are there, round the point. There is good punch in the inn.'

Nothing loth, we followed in the dinghy, skirted a bend of the Sound, and opened up the lights of a village,

with some smacks at anchor in front of it. We were escorted to the inn, and introduced to a formidable

beverage, called coffeepunch, and a smokewreathed circle of smacksmen, who talked German out of

courtesy, but were Danish in all else. Davies was at once at home with them, to a degree, indeed, that I

envied. His German was of the crudest kind, bizarre in vocabulary and comical in accent; but the

freemasonry of the sea, or some charm of his own, gave intuition to both him and his hearers. I cut a poor

figure in this nautical gathering, though Davies, who persistently referred to me as 'meiner Freund', tried hard

to represent me as a kindred spirit and to include me in the general talk. I was detected at once as an

uninteresting hybrid. Davies, who sometimes appealed to me for a word, was deep in talk over anchorages

and ducks, especially, as I well remember now, about the chance of sport in a certain Schlei Fiord. I fell into

utter neglect, till rescued by a taciturn person in spectacles and a very high cap, who appeared to be the only

landsman present. After silently puffing smoke in my direction for some time, he asked me if I was married,

It was eleven before we left this hospitable inn, escorted by the whole party to the dinghy. Our friends of the

smack insisted on our sharing their boat out of pure goodfellowshipfor there was not nearly room for

usand would not let us go till a bucket of freshcaught fish had been emptied into her bottom. After much

shaking of scaly hands, we sculled back to the Dulcibella, where she slept in a bed of tremulous stars.

Davies sniffed the wind and scanned the treetops, where light gusts were toying with the leaves.

'Sou'west still,' he said, 'and more rain coming. But it's bound to shift into the north.'

'It depends where we go,' he said, slowly. 'I was asking those fellows about duckshooting. They seemed to

think the best place would be Schlei Fiord. That's about fifteen miles south of Sonderburg, on the way to

Kiel. They said there was a pilot chap living at the mouth who would tell us all about it. They weren't very

'Don't you really?' he rejoined, with sudden warmth. Then, with a slight change of voice. 'You mean it's all

Of course I meant that. Before we went below we both looked for a moment at the little grey memorial; its

slender fretted arch outlined in tender lights and darks above the hollow on the Alsen shore. The night was

I MAKE no apology for having described these early days in some detail. It is no wonder that their trivialities

are as vividly before me as the colours of earth and sea in this enchanting corner of the world. For every

trifle, sordid or picturesque, was relevant; every scrap of talk a link; every passing mood critical for good or

ill. So slight indeed were the determining causes that changed my autumn holiday into an undertaking the

Two days more preceded the change. On the first, the southwesterly wind still holding, we sallied forth into

Augustenburg Fiord, 'to practise smartness in a heavy thresh,' as Davies put it. It was the day of dedication for

those disgusting oilskins, immured in whose stiff and odorous angles, I felt distressfully cumbersome; a day

of proof indeed for me, for heavy squalls swept incessantly over the loch, and Davies, at my own request,

gave me no rest. Backwards and forwards we tacked, blustering into coves and out again, reefing and

unreefing, now stung with rain, now warmed with sun, but never with time to breathe or think.

I wrestled with intractable ropes, slaves if they could be subdued, tyrants if they got the upper hand; creeping,

craning, straining, I made the painful round of the deck, while Davies, hatless and tranquil, directed my

'Now take the helm and try steering in a hard breeze to windward. It's the finest sport on earth.'

So I grappled with the niceties of that delicate craft; smarting eyes, chafed hands, and dazed brain all pressed

into the service, whilst Davies, taming the ropes the while, shouted into my ear the subtle mysteries of the art;

that fidgeting ripple in the luff of the mainsail, and the distant rattle from the hungry jibsigns that they are

starved of wind and must be given more; the heavy list and wallow of the hull, the feel of the wind on your

cheek instead of your nose, the broader angle of the burgee at the mastheadsigns that they have too much,

and that she is sagging recreantly to leeward instead of fighting to windward. He taught me the tactics for

meeting squalls, and the way to press your advantage when they are defeatedthe iron hand in the velvet

glove that the wilful tiller needs if you are to gain your ends with it; the exact set of the sheets necessary to

get the easiest and swiftest play of the hullall these things and many more I struggled to apprehend,

careless for the moment as to whether they were worth knowing, but doggedly set on knowing them.

Needless to say, I had no eyes for beauty. The wooded inlets we dived into gave a brief respite from wind and

spindrift, but called into use the lead and the centreboard tackletwo new and cumbrous complexities.

Davies's passion for intricate navigation had to be sated even in these secure and tideless waters.

'Let's get in as near as we canyou stand by the lead,' was his formula; so I made false casts, tripped up in

the slack, sent rivers of water up my sleeves, and committed all the other gaucheries that beginners in the art

commit, while the sand showed whiter beneath the keel, till Davies regretfully drew off and shouted: 'Ready

about, centreplate down,' and I dashed down to the trappings of that diabolical contrivance, the only part of

the Dulcibella's equipment that I hated fiercely to the last. It had an odious habit when lowered of spouting

jets of water through its chainlead on to the cabin floor. One of my duties was to gag it with cottonwaste,

but even then its choking gurgle was a most uncomfortable sound in your diningroom. In a minute the creek

would be behind us and we would be thumping our stem into the short hollow waves of the fiord, and

lurching through spray and rain for some point on the opposite shore. Of our destination and objects, if we

had any, I knew nothing. At the northern end of the fiord, just before we turned, Davies had turned dreamy in

the most exasperating way, for I was steering at the time and in mortal need of sympathetic guidance, if I was

to avoid a sudden jibe. As though continuing aloud some internal debate, he held a onesided argument to the

effect that it was no use going farther north. Ducks, weather, and charts figured in it, but I did not follow the

pros and cons. I only know that we suddenly turned and began to 'battle' south again. At sunset we were back

once more in the same quiet pool among the trees and fields of Als Sound, a wondrous peace succeeding the

turmoil. Bruised and sodden, I was extricating myself from my oily prison, and later was tasting (though not

nearly yet in its perfection) the unique exultation that follows such a day, when, glowing all over, deliciously

tired and pleasantly sore, you eat what seems ambrosia, be it only tinned beef; and drink nectar, be it only

distilled from terrestrial hops or coffee berries, and inhale as culminating luxury balmy fumes which even the

On the following morning, the 30th, a joyous shout of 'Nor'west wind' sent me shivering on deck, in the

small hours, to handle rainstiff canvas and cutting chain. It was a cloudy, unsettled day, but still enough

after yesterday's boisterous ordeal. We retraced our way past Sonderburg, and thence sailed for a faint line of

pale green on the far southwestern horizon. It was during this passage that an incident occurred, which,

A flight of wild duck crossed our bows at some little distance, a wedgeshaped phalanx of craning necks and

flapping wings. I happened to be steering while Davies verified our course below; but I called him up at once,

'Those fellows at Satrup were rather doubtful,' he said. 'There are plenty of ducks, but I made out that it's not

easy for strangers to get shooting. The whole country's so very civilized; it's not wild enough, is it?'

He looked at me. I had no very clear opinion. It was anything but wild in one sense, but there seemed to be

wild enough spots for ducks. The shore we were passing appeared to be bordered by lonely marshes, though a

spacious champaign showed behind. If it were not for the beautiful places we had seen, and my growing taste

for our way of seeing them, his disappointing vagueness would have nettled me more than it did. For, after

all, he had brought me out loaded with sporting equipment under a promise of shooting.

'Bad weather is what we want for ducks,' he said; 'but I'm afraid we're in the wrong place for them. Now, if it

was the North Sea, among those Frisian islands' His tone was timid and interrogative, and I felt at once

that he was sounding me as to some unpalatable plan whose nature began to dawn on me.

He stammered on through a sentence or two about 'wildness' and 'nobody to interfere with you,' and then I

'Hang it, man!' I returned, tartly, 'here we are in October, the summer over, and the weather gone to pieces.

We're alone in a cockleshell boat, at a time when every other yacht of our size is laying up for the winter.

Luckily, we seem to have struck an ideal cruisingground, with a wide choice of safe fiords and a good

prospect of ducks, if we choose to take a little trouble about them. You can't mean to waste time and run

risks' (I thought of the tom leaf in the logbook) 'in a long voyage to those forbidding haunts of yours in the

'It's not very long,' said Davies, doggedly. 'Part of it's canal, and the rest is quite safe if you're careful. There's

'What's it all for?' I interrupted, impatiently. 'We haven't tried for shooting here yet. You've no notion, have

'England?' he muttered. 'Oh, I don't much care.' Again his vagueness jarred on me; there seemed to be some

bar between us, invisible and insurmountable. And, after all, what was I doing here? Roughing it in a shabby

little yacht, utterly out of my element, with a man who, a week ago, was nothing to me, and who now was a

tiresome enigma. Like swift poison the old morbid mood in which I left London spread through me. All I had

learnt and seen slipped away; what I had suffered remained. I was on the point of saying something which

'I'm awfully sorry,' he broke out, 'for being such a selfish brute. I don't know what I was thinking about.

You're a brick to join me in this sort of life, and I'm afraid I'm an infernally bad host. Of course this is just the

place to cruise. I forgot about the scenery, and all that. Let's ask about the ducks here. As you say, we're sure

to get sport if we worry and push a bit. We must be nearly there nowyes, there's the entrance. Take the

He sprang up the mast like a monkey, and gazed over the land from the crosstrees. I looked up at my

enigma and thanked Providence I had not spoken; for no one could have resisted his frank outburst of good

nature. Yet it occurred to me that, considering the conditions of our life, our intimacy was strangely slow in

growth. I had no clue yet as to where his idiosyncrasies began and his self ended, and he, I surmised, was in

the same stage towards me. Otherwise I should have pressed him further now, for I felt convinced that there

was some mystery in his behaviour which I had not yet accounted for. However, light was soon to break.

I could see no sign of the entrance he had spoken of, and no wonder, for it is only eighty yards wide, though

it leads to a fiord thirty miles long. All at once we were jolting in a tumble of sea, and the channel grudgingly

disclosed itself, stealing between marshes and meadows and then broadening to a mere, as at Ekken. We

anchored close to the mouth, and not far from a group of vessels of a type that afterwards grew very familiar

to me. They were sailingbarges, something like those that ply in the Thames, bluffbowed, highsterned

craft of about fifty tons, ketchrigged, and fitted with leeboards, very light spars, and a long tiptilted

bowsprit. (For the future I shall call them 'galliots'.) Otherwise the only sign of life was a solitary white

housethe pilot's house, the chart told usclose to the northern point of entrance. After tea we called on the

pilot. Patriarchally installed before a roaring stove, in the company of a buxom bustling daughterinlaw and

some rosy grandchildren, we found a rotund and rubicund person, who greeted us with a hoarse roar of

welcome in German, which instantly changed, when he saw us, to the funniest broken English, spoken with

intense relish and pride. We explained ourselves and our mission as well as we could through the hospitable

interruptions caused by beer and the strains of a huge musical box, which had been set going in honour of our

arrival. Needless to say, I was read like a book at once, and fell into the part of listener.

'Yes, yes,' he said, 'all right. There is plenty ducks, but first we will drink a glass beer; then we will shift your

ship, captainshe lies not good there.' (Davies started up in a panic, but was waved back to his beer.) 'Then

we will drink together another glass beer; then we will talk of ducksno, then we will kill ducksthat is

This was an unexpected climax, and promised well for our prospects. And the programme was fully carried

out. After the beer our host was packed briskly by his daughter into an armour of woollen gaiters, coats, and

mufflers, topped with a worsted helmet, which left nothing of his face visible but a pair of twinkling eyes.

Thus equipped, he led the way out of doors, and roared for Hans and his gun, till a great gawky youth, with

high cheekbones and a downy beard, came out from the yard and sheepishly shook our hands.

Together we repaired to the quay, where the pilot stood, looking like a genial ball of worsted, and bawled

hoarse directions while we shifted the Dulcibella to a berth on the farther shore close to the other vessels. We

returned with our guns, and the interval for refreshments followed. It was just dusk when we sallied out

again, crossed a stretch of bogland, and took up strategic posts round a stagnant pond. Hans had been sent to

drive, and the result was a fine mallard and three ducks. It was true that all fell to the pilot's gun, perhaps

owing to Hans' filial instinct and his parent's canny egotism in choosing his own lair, or perhaps it was

chance; but the shootingparty was none the less a triumphal success. It was celebrated with beer and music

as before, while the pilot, an infant on each podgy knee, discoursed exuberantly on the glories of his country

and the Elysian content of his life. 'There is plenty beer, plenty meat, plenty money, plenty ducks,' summed

It may have been fancy, but Davies, though he had fits and starts of vivacity, seemed very inattentive,

considering that we were sitting at the feet of so expansive an oracle. It was I who elicited most of the

practical informationdetails of time, weather, and likely places for shooting, with some shrewd hints as to

the kind of people to conciliate. Whatever he thought of me, I warmed with sympathy towards the pilot, for

he assumed that we had done with cruising for the year, and thought us mad enough as it was to have been

afloat so long, and madder still to intend living on 'so little a ship' when we could live on land with beer and

music handy. I was tempted to raise the North Sea question, just to watch Davies under the thunder of

rebukes which would follow. But I refrained from a wish to be tender with him, now that all was going so

well. The Frisian Islands were an extravagant absurdity now. I did not even refer to them as we pulled back to

the Dulcibella, after swearing eternal friendship with the good pilot and his family.

Davies and I turned in good friends that nightor rather I should say that I turned in, for I left him sucking

an empty pipe and aimlessly fingering a volume of Mahan; and once when I woke in the night I felt somehow

I WOKE (on 1st October) with that dispiriting sensation that a hitch has occurred in a settled plan. It was

explained when I went on deck, and I found the Dulcibella wrapped in a fog, silent, clammy, nothing visible

from her decks but the ghostly hull of a galliot at anchor near us. She must have brought up there in the night,

for there had been nothing so close the evening before; and I remembered that my sleep had been broken

'This looks pretty hopeless for today,' I said, with a shiver, to Davies, who was laying the breakfast.

'Well, we can't do anything till this fog lifts,' he answered, with a good deal of resignation. Breakfast was a

cheerless meal. The damp penetrated to the very cabin, whose roof and walls wept a fine dew. I had dreaded a

bathe, and yet missed it, and the ghastly light made the tablecloth look dirtier than it naturally was, and all the

accessories more sordid. Something had gone wrong with the bacon, and the lack of eggcups was not in the

Davies was just beginning, in his summary way, to tumble the things together for washing tip, when there

was a sound of a step on deck, two seaboots appeared on the ladder, and, before we could wonder who the

visitor was, a little man in oilskins and a sou'wester was stooping towards us in the cabin door, smiling

'Well met, captain,' he said, quietly, in German. 'Where are you bound to this time?'

'Bartels!' exclaimed Davies, jumping up. The two stooping figures, young and old, beamed at one another like

'Where have you come from? Have some coffee. How's the Johannes? Was that you that came in last night?

I'm delighted to see you!' (I spare the reader his uncouth lingo.) The little man was dragged in and seated on

'I took my apples to Kappeln,' he said, sedately, 'and now I sail to Kiel, and so to Hamburg, where my wife

and children are. It is my last voyage of the year. You are no longer alone, captain, I see.' He had taken off his

'Oh, I quite forgot!' said Davies, who had been kneeling on one knee in the low doorway, absorbed in his

visitor. 'This is "meiner Freund," Herr Carruthers. Carruthers, this is my friend, Schiffer Bartels, of the galliot

Was I never to be at an end of the puzzles which Davies presented to me? All the impulsive heartiness died

out of his voice and manner as he uttered the last few words, and there he was, nervously glancing from the

visitor to me, like one who, against his will or from tactlessness, has introduced two persons who he knows

There was a pause while he fumbled with the cups, poured some cold coffee out and pondered over it as

though it were a chemical experiment. Then he muttered something about boiling some more water, and took

refuge in the forecastle. I was ill at ease at this period with seafaring men, but this mild little person was easy

ground for a beginner. Besides, when he took off his oilskin coat he reminded me less of a sailor than of a

homely draper of some country town, with his clean turneddown collar and neatly fitting frieze jacket. We

exchanged some polite platitudes about the fog and his voyage last night from Kappeln, which appeared to be

Davies joined in from the forecastle with an excess of warmth which almost took the words out of my mouth.

We exhausted the subject very soon, and then my vis�vis smiled paternally at me, as he had done at

'It is good that the captain is no more alone. He is a fine young manHeaven, what a fine young man! I love

him as my sonbut he is too brave, too reckless. It is good for him to have a friend.'

'In an ugly place, and in ugly weather,' he answered, gravely, but with a twinkle of fun in his eye. 'But has he

not told you?' he added, with ponderous slyness. 'I came just in time. No! what am I saying? He is brave as a

lion and quick as a cat. I think he cannot drown; but still it was an ugly place and ugly'

'What are you talking about, Bartels?' interrupted Davies, emerging noisily with a boiling kettle.

I answered the question. 'I was just asking your friend how it was you made his acquaintance.'

'Oh, he helped me out of a bit of a mess in the North Sea, didn't you, Bartels?' he said.

'It was nothing,' said Bartels. 'But the North Sea is no place for your little boat, captain. So I have told you

many times. How did you like Flensburg? A fine town, is it not? Did you find Herr Krank, the carpenter? I

see you have placed a little mizzenmast. The rudder was nothing much, but it was well that it held to the

Eider. But she is strong and good, your little ship, andHeaven!she had need be so.' He chuckled, and

This is all the conversation that I need record. For my part I merely waited for its end, determined on my

course, which was to know the truth once and for all, and make an end of these distracting mystifications.

Davies plied his friend with coffee, and kept up the talk gallantly; but affectionate as he was, his manner

The gist of the little skipper's talk was a parental warning that, though we were well enough here in the

'OstSee', it was time for little boats to be looking for winter quarters. That he himself was going by the Kiel

Canal to Hamburg to spend a cosy winter as a decent citizen at his warm fireside, and that we should follow

his example. He ended with an invitation to us to visit him on the Johannes, and with suave farewells

disappeared into the fog. Davies saw him into his boat, returned without wasting a moment, and sat down on

'I'll tell you,' said Davies, 'I'll tell you the whole thing. As far as you're concerned it's partly a confession. Last

night I had made up my mind to say nothing, but when Bartels turned up I knew it must all come out. It's

been fearfully on my mind, and perhaps you'll be able to help me. But it's for you to decide.'

'You know what I was saying about the Frisian Islands the other day? A thing happened there which I never

'Well, you're quite right, it was there, on 9th September. I told you the sort of thing I was doing at that time,

but I don't think I said that I made inquiries from one or two people about duckshooting, and had been told

by some fishermen at Borkum that there was a big sailingyacht in those waters, whose owner, a German of

the name of Dollmann, shot a good deal, and might give me some tips. Well, I found this yacht one evening,

knowing it must be her from the description I had. She was what is called a "bargeyacht", of fifty or sixty

tons, built for shallow water on the lines of a Dutch galliot, with leeboards and those queer round bows and

square stern. She's something like those galliots anchored near us now. You sometimes see the same sort of

yacht in English waters, only there they copy the Thames barges. She looked a clipper of her sort, and very

smart; varnished all over and shining like gold. I came on her about sunset, after a long day of exploring

Davies found it and spread it on the table between us, first pushing back the cloth and the breakfast things to

one end, where they lay in a slovenly litter. This was one of the only two occasions on which I ever saw him

postpone the rite of washing up, and it spoke volumes for the urgency of the matter in hand.

'Here it is,' said Davies and I looked with a new and strange interest at the long string of slender islands, the

parallel line of coast, and the confusion of shoals, banks, and channels which lay between. 'Here's Norderney,

you see. By the way, there's a harbour there at the west end of the island, the only real harbour on the whole

line of islands, Dutch or German, except at Terschelling. There's quite a big town there, too, a watering place,

where Germans go for seabathing in the summer. Well, the Medusa, that was her name, was lying in the

Riff Gat roadstead, flying the German ensign, and I anchored for the night pretty near her. I meant to visit her

owner later on, but I very nearly changed my mind, as I always feel rather a fool on smart yachts, and my

German isn't very good. However, I thought I might as well; so, after dinner, when it was dark, I sculled over

in the dinghy, hailed a sailor on deck, said who I was, and asked if I could see the owner. The sailor was a

surly sort of chap, and there was a good long delay while I waited on deck, feeling more and more

uncomfortable. Presently a steward came up and showed me down the companion and into the saloon, which,

after this, lookedwell, horribly gorgeousyou know what I mean, plush lounges, silk cushions, and that

sort of thing. Dinner seemed to be just over, and wine and fruit were on the table. Herr Dollmann was there at

'Oh, a tall, thin chap, in evening dress; about fifty I suppose, with greyish hair and a short beard. I'm not good

at describing people. He had a high, bulging forehead, and there was something about himbut I think I'd

better tell you the bare facts first. I can't say he seemed pleased to see me, and he couldn't speak English, and,

in fact, I felt infernally awkward. Still, I had an object in coming, and as I was there I thought I might as well

The notion of Davies in his Norfolk jacket and rusty flannels haranguing a frigid German in evening dress in

'He seemed very much astonished to see me; had evidently seen the Dulcibella arrive, and had wondered

what she was. I began as soon as I could about the ducks, but he shut me up at once, said I could do nothing

hereabouts. I put it down to sportsman's jealousyyou know what that is. But I saw I had come to the wrong

shop, and was just going to back out and end this unpleasant interview, when he thawed a bit, offered me

some wine, and began talking in quite a friendly way, taking a great interest in my cruise and my plans for the

future. In the end we sat up quite late, though I never felt really at my ease. He seemed to be taking stock of

me all the time, as though I were some new animal.' (How I sympathized with that German!) 'We parted

civilly enough, and I rowed back and turned in, meaning to potter on eastwards early next day.

'But I was knocked up at dawn by a sailor with a message from Dollmann asking if he could come to

breakfast with me. I was rather flabbergasted, but didn't like to be rude, so I said, "Yes." Well, he came, and I

returned the callandwell, the end of it was that I stayed at anchor there for three days.' This was rather

'How did you spend the time?' I asked. Stopping three days anywhere was an unusual event for him, as I

'Oh, I lunched or dined with him once or twicewith them, I ought to say,' he added, hurriedly. 'His daughter

'Oh, she seemed a very nice girl,' was the guarded reply, delivered with particular unconcern, 'andthe end

of it was that I and the Medusa sailed away in company. I must tell you how it came about, just in a few

'It was his suggestion. He said he had to sail to Hamburg, and proposed that I should go with him in the

Dulcibella as far as the Elbe, and then, if I liked, I could take the ship canal at Brunsb�ttel through to Kiel and

the Baltic. I had no very fixed plans of my own, though I had meant to go on exploring eastwards between the

islands and the coast, and so reach the Elbe in a much slower way. He dissuaded me from this, sticking to it

that I should have no chance of ducks, and urging other reasons. Anyway, we settled to sail in company direct

to Cuxhaven, in the Elbe. With a fair wind and an early start it should be only one day's sail of about sixty

'I told you, I think, that the weather had broken after a long spell of heat. That very day it had been blowing

pretty hard from the west, and the glass was falling still. I said, of course, that I couldn't go with him if the

weather was too bad, but he prophesied a good day, said it was an easy sail, and altogether put me on my

mettle. You can guess how it was. Perhaps I had talked about singlehanded cruising as though it were easier

than it was, though I never meant it in a boasting way, for I hate that sort of thing, and besides there is no

'Anyway, we went next morning at six. It was a dirtylooking day, wind W.N.W., but his sails were going up

and mine followed. I took two reefs in, and we sailed out into the open and steered E.N.E. along the coast for

the Outer Elbe Lightship about fifty knots off. Here it all is, you see.' (He showed me the course on the chart.)

'The trip was nothing for his boat, of course, a safe, powerful old tub, forging through the sea as steady as a

house. I kept up with her easily at first. My hands were pretty full, for there was a hard wind on my quarter

and a troublesome sea; but as long as nothing worse came I knew I should be all right, though I also knew

'All went well till we were off Wangeroog, the last of the islandshereand then it began to blow really

hard. I had half a mind to chuck it and cut into the Jade River, down there,' but I hadn't the face to, so I hove

to and took in my last reef.' (Simple words, simply uttered; but I had seen the operation in calm water and

shuddered at the present picture.) 'We had been about level till then, but with my shortened canvas I fell

behind. Not that that mattered in the least. I knew my course, had read up my tides, and, thick as the weather

was, I had no doubt of being able to pick up the lightship. No change of plan was possible now. The Weser

estuary was on my starboard hand, but the whole place was a leeshore and a mass of unknown banksjust

look at them. I ran on, the Dulcibella doing her level best, but we had some narrow shaves of being pooped. I

was about here, say six miles southwest of the lightship, when I suddenly saw that the Medusa had hove to

right ahead, as though waiting till I came up. She wore round again on the course as I drew level, and we

were alongside for a bit. Dollmann lashed the wheel, leaned over her quarter, and shouted, very slowly and

distinctly so that I could understand; "Follow mesea too bad for you outsideshort cut through

'It was taking me all my time to manage the tiller, but I knew what he meant at once, for I had been over the

chart carefully the night before. You see, the whole bay between Wangeroog and the Elbe is encumbered

with sand. A great jagged chunk of it runs out from Cuxhaven in a northwesterly direction for fifteen miles

or so, ending in a pointed spit, called the Scharhorn. To reach the Elbe from the west you nave to go right

outside this, round the lightship, which is off the Scharhorn, and double back. Of course, that's what all big

vessels do. But, as you see, these sands are intersected here and there by channels, very shallow and winding,

exactly like those behind the Frisian Islands. Now look at this one, which cuts right through the big chunk of

sand and comes out near Cuxhaven. The Telte it's called. It's miles wide, you see, at the entrance, but later on

it is split into two by the Hohenh�rn bank: then it gets shallow and very complicated, and ends in a mere tidal

driblet with another name. It's just the sort of channel I should like to worry into on a fine day or with an

offshore wind. Alone, in thick weather and a heavy sea, it would have been folly to attempt it, except as a

desperate resource. But, as I said I knew at once that Dollmann was proposing to run for it and guide me in.

'I didn't like the idea, because I like doing things for myself, and, silly as it sounds, I believe I resented being

told the sea was too bad for me. which it certainly was. Yet the short cut did save several miles and a devil of

a tumble off the Scharhorn, where two tides meet. I had complete faith in Dollmann, and I suppose I decided

that I should be a fool not to take a good chance. I hesitated. I know; but in the end I nodded, and held up my

arm as she forged ahead again. Soon after, she shifted her course and I followed. You asked me once if I ever

He spoke with bitter gravity, flung himself back, and felt his dramatic pause, but it certainly was one. I had

just a glimpse of still another Daviesa Davies five years older throbbing with deep emotions, scorn,

passion, and stubborn purpose; a being above my plane, of sterner stuff, wider scope. Intense as my interest

had become, I waited almost timidly while he mechanically rammed tobacco into his pipe and struck

ineffectual matches. I felt that whatever the riddle to be solved, it was no mean one. He repressed himself

with an effort, half rose, and made his circular glance at the clock, barometer, and skylight, and then resumed.

'We soon came to what I knew must be the beginning of the Telte channel. All round you could hear the

breakers on the sands, though it was too thick to see them yet. As the water shoaled, the sea, of course, got

'I kept dead in the wake of the Medusa, but to my disgust I found she was gaining on me very fast. Of course

I had taken for granted, when he said he would lead me in, that he would slow down and keep close to me.

He could easily have done so by getting his men up to check his sheets or drop his peak. Instead of that he

was busting on for all he was worth. Once, in a rainsquall, I lost sight of him altogether; got him faintly

again, but had enough to do with my own tiller not to want to be peering through the scud after a runaway

pilot. I was all right so far, but we were fast approaching the worst part of the whole passage, where the

Hohenh�rn bank blocks the road, and the channel divides. I don't know what it looks like to you on the

chartperhaps fairly simple, because you can follow the twists of the channels, as on a groundplan; but a

stranger coming to a place like that (where there are no buoys, mind you) can tell nothing certain by the

eyeunless perhaps at dead low water, when the banks are high and dry, and in very clear weatherhe

must trust to the lead and the compass, and feel his way step by step. I knew perfectly well that what I should

soon see would be a wall of surf stretching right across and on both sides. To feel one's way in that sort of

weather is impossible. You must know your way, or else have a pilot. I had one, but he was playing his own

'With a second hand on board to steer while I conned I should have felt less of an ass. As it was, I knew I

ought to be facing the music in the offing, and cursed myself for having broken my rule and gone blundering

into this confounded short cut. It was giving myself away, doing just the very thing that you can't do in

'By the time I realized the danger it was far too late to turn and hammer out to the open. I was deep in the

bottleneck bight of the sands, jammed on a lee shore, and a strong flood tide sweeping me on. That tide, by

the way, gave just the ghost of a chance. I had the hours in my head, and knew it was about twothirds flood,

with two hours more of rising water. That meant the banks would be all covering when I reached them, and

harder than ever to locate; but it also meant that I might float right over the worst of them if I hit off a lucky

place.' Davies thumped the table in disgust. 'Pah! It makes me sick to think of having to trust to an accident

like that, like a lubberly cockney out for a boozy Bank Holiday sail. Well, just as I foresaw, the wall of surf

appeared clean across the horizon, and curling back to shut me in, booming like thunder. When I last saw the

Medusa she seemed to be charging it like a horse at a fence, and I took a rough bearing of her position by a

hurried glance at the compass. At that very moment I thought she seemed to luff and show some of her

broadside; but a squall blotted her out and gave me hell with the tiller. After that she was lost in the white

mist that hung over the line of breakers. I kept on my bearing as well as I could, but I was already out of the

channel. I knew that by the look of the water, and as we neared the bank I saw it was all awash and without

the vestige of an opening. I wasn't going to chuck her on to it without an effort; so, more by instinct than with

any particular hope, I put the helm down, meaning to work her along the edge on the chance of spotting a

way over. She was buried at once by the beam sea, and the jib flew to blazes; but the reefed stays'l stood, she

recovered gamely, and I held on, though I knew it could only be for a few minutes, as the centreplate was

'I was halfblinded by scud, but suddenly I noticed what looked like a gap, behind a spit which curled out

right ahead. I luffed still more to clear this spit, but she couldn't weather it. Before you could say knife she

was driving across it, bumped heavily, bucked forward again, bumped again, andripped on in deeper

water! I can't describe the next few minutes. I was in some sort of channel, but a very narrow one, and the sea

broke everywhere. I hadn't proper command either; for the rudder had crocked up somehow at the last bump.

I was like a drunken man running for his life down a dark alley, barking himself at every corner. It couldn't

last long, and finally we went crash on to something and stopped there, grinding and banging. So ended that

'Well, it was like thisthere was really no danger'I opened my eyes at the characteristic phrase. 'I mean,

that lucky stumble into a channel was my salvation. Since then I had struggled through a mile of sands, all of

which lay behind me like a breakwater against the gale. They were covered, of course, and seething like

soapsuds; but the force of the sea was deadened. The Dulce was bumping, but not too heavily. It was nearing

'In the ordinary way I should have run out a kedge with the dinghy, and at the next high water sailed farther

in and anchored where I could lie afloat. The trouble was now that my hand was hurt and my dinghy stove in,

not to mention the rudder business. It was the first bump on the outer edge that did the damage. There was a

heavy swell there, and when we struck, the dinghy, which was towing astern, came home on her painter and

down with a crash on the yacht's weather quarter. I stuck out one hand to ward it off and got it nipped on the

gunwale. She was badly stove in and useless, so I couldn't run out the kedge'this was Greek to me, but I let

him go on'and for the present my hand was too painful even to stow the boom and sails, which were.

whipping and racketing about anyhow. There was the rudder, too, to be mended; and we were several miles

from the nearest land. Of course, if the wind fell, it was all easy enough; but if it held or increased it was a

poor lookout. There's a limit to strain of that sortand other things might have happened.

'In fact, it was precious lucky that Bartels turned up. His galliot was at anchor a mile away, up a branch of the

channel. In a clear between squalls he saw us, and, like a brick, rowed his boat outhe and his boy, and a

devil of a pull they must have had. I was glad enough to see themno, that's not true; I was in such a fury of

disgust and shame that I believe I should have been idiot enough to say I didn't want help, if he hadn't just

nipped on board and started work. He's a terror to work, that little mouse of a chap. In half an hour he had

stowed the sails, unshackled the big anchor, run out fifty fathoms of warp, and hauled her off there and then

into deep water. Then they towed her up the channelit was dead to leeward and an easy joband berthed

her near their own vessel. It was dark by that time, so I gave them a drink, and said goodnight. It blew a

DAVIES leaned back and gave a deep sigh, as though he still felt the relief from some tension. I did the

same, and felt the same relief. The chart, freed from the pressure of our fingers, rolled up with a flip, as

though to say, 'What do you think of that?' I have straightened out his sentences a little, for in the excitement

'Of course,' said Davies, 'what about him? I didn't get at much that night. It was all so sudden. The only thing

I could have sworn to from the first was that he had purposely left me in the lurch that day. I pieced out the

rest in the next few days, which I'll just finish with as shortly as I can. Bartels came aboard next morning, and

though it was blowing hard still we managed to shift the Dulcibella to a place where she dried safely at the

midday low water, and we could get at her rudder. The lower screwplate on the stern post had wrenched

out, and we botched it up roughly as a makeshift. There were other little breakages, but nothing to matter,

and the loss of the jib was nothing, as I had two spare ones. The dinghy was past repair just then, and I lashed

'It turned out that Bartels was carrying apples from Bremen to Kappeln (in this fiord), and had run into that

channel in the sands for shelter from the weather. Today he was bound for the Eider River, whence, as I told

you, you can get through (by river and canal) into the Baltic. Of course the Elbe route, by the new Kaiser

Wilhelm Ship Canal, is the shortest. The Eider route is the old one, but he hoped to get rid of some of his

apples at T�nning, the town at its mouth. Both routes touch the Baltic at Kiel. As you know, I had been

running for the Elbe, but yesterday's muckup put me off, and I changed my mindI'll tell you why

presentlyand decided to sail to the Eider along with the Johannes and get through that way. It cleared from

the east next day, and I raced him there, winning hands down, left him at T�nning, and in three days was in

the Baltic. It was just a week after I ran ashore that I wired to you. You see, I had come to the conclusion that

In the end it came out quite quietly and suddenly, and left me in profound amazement. 'I wired to youthat

chap was a spy.' It was the close association of these two ideas that hit me hardest at the moment. For a

second I was back in the dreary splendour of the London clubroom, spelling out that crabbed scrawl from

Davies, and fastidiously criticizing its proposal in the light of a holiday. Holiday! What was to be its issue?

Chilling and opaque as the fog that filtered through the skylight there flooded my imagination a mist of doubt

'A spy!' I repeated blankly. 'What do you mean? Why did you wire to me? A spy of whatof whom?'

'I'll tell you how I worked it out,' said Davies. 'I don't think "spy" is the right word; but I mean something

'He purposely put me ashore. I don't think I'm suspicious by nature, but I know something about boats and the

sea. I know he could have kept close to me if he had chosen, and I saw the whole place at low water when we

left those sands on the second day. Look at the chart again. Here's the Hohenh�rn bank that I showed you as

blocking the road. It's in two piecesfirst the west and then the east. You see the Telte channel dividing into

two branches and curving round it. Both branches are broad and deep, as channels go in those waters. Now,

in sailing in I was nowhere near either of them. When I last saw Dollmann he must have been steering

straight for the bank itself, at a point somewhere here, quite a mile from the northern arm of the channel, and

two from the southern. I followed by compass, as you know, and found nothing but breakers ahead. How did

I get through? That's where the luck came in. I spoke of only two channels, that is, round the bankone to

the north, the other to the south. But look closely and you'll see that right through the centre of the West

Hohenh�rn runs another, a very narrow and winding one, so small that I hadn't even noticed it the night

before, when I was going over the chart. That was the one I stumbled into in that tailor's fashion, as I was

groping along the edge of the surf in a desperate effort to gain time. I bolted down it blindly, came out into

this strip of open water, crossed that aimlessly, and brought up on the edge of the East Hohenh�rn, here. It

was more than I deserved. I can see now that it was a hundred to one in favour of my striking on a bad place

'It's as clear as possible,' Davies answered. 'He doubled back into the northern channel when he had misled

me enough. Do you remember my saying that when I last saw him I thought he had luffed and showed his

broadside? I had another bit of luck in that. He was luffing towards the northso it struck me through the

blurand when I in my turn came up to the bank, and had to turn one way or the other to avoid it, I think I

should naturally have turned north too, as he had done. In that case I should have been done for, for I should

have had a mile of the bank to skirt before reaching the north channel, and should have driven ashore long

'Couldn't help it. I was running on the starboard tackboom over to port; to turn north would have meant a

jibe, and as things were I couldn't risk one. It was blowing like fits; if anything had carried away I should

have been on shore in a jiffy. I scarcely thought about it at all, but put the helm down and turned her south.

Though I knew nothing about it, that little central channel was now on my port hand, distant about two

Helped by pluck, I thought to myself, as I tried with my landsman's fancy to conjure up that perilous scene.

As to the truth of the affair, the chart and Davies's version were easy enough to follow, but I felt only half

convinced. The 'spy', as Davies strangely called his pilot, might have honestly mistaken the course himself,

outstripped his convoy inadvertently, and escaped disaster as narrowly as she did. I suggested this on the spur

'Wait till you hear the whole thing,' he said. 'I must go back to when I first met him. I told you that on that

first evening he began by being as rude as a bear and as cold as stone, and then became suddenly friendly. I

can see now that in the talk that followed he was pumping me hard. It was an easy game to play, for I hadn't

seen a gentleman since Morrison left me, I was tremendously keen about my voyage, and I thought the chap

was a good sportsman, even if he was a bit dark about the ducks. I talked quite freelyat least, as freely as I

could with my bad Germanabout my last fortnight's sailing; how I had been smelling out all the channels

in and out of the islands, how interested I had been in the whole business, puzzling out the effect of the winds

on the tides, the set of the currents, and so on. I talked about my difficulties, too; the changes in the buoys,

the prehistoric rottenness of the English charts. He drew me out as much as he could, and in the light of what

'The next day and the next I saw a good deal of him, and the same thing went on. And then there were my

plans for the future. My idea was, as I told you, to go on exploring the German coast just as I had the Dutch.

His ideaHeavens, how plainly I see it now!was to choke me off, get me to clear out altogether from that

part of the coast. That was why he said there were no ducks. That was why he cracked up the Baltic as a

cruisingground and shootingground. And that was why he broached and stuck to that plan of sailing in

'Yes, but after that, it's guesswork. I mean that I can't tell when he first decided to go one better and drown

me. He couldn't count for certain on bad weather, though he held my nose to it when it came. But, granted

that he wanted to get rid of me altogether, he got a magnificent chance on that trip to the Elbe

lightship. I expect it struck him suddenly, and he acted on the impulse. Left to myself I was all right; but the

short cut was a grand idea of his. Everything was in its favourwind, sea, sand, tide. He thinks I'm dead.'

'That's another thing. When he first hove to, waiting for me, of course they were on deck (two of them, I

think) hauling at sheets. But by the time I had drawn tip level the Medusa had worn round again on her

course, and no one was on deck but Dollmann at the wheel. No one overheard what he said.'

The incongruity of the whole business was striking me. Why should anyone want to kill Davies, and why

should Davies, the soul of modesty and simplicity, imagine that anyone wanted to kill him? He must have

'Go on,' I said. What was his motive? A German finds an Englishman exploring a bit of German coast,

determines to stop him, and even to get rid of him. It looks so far as if you were thought to be the spy.

'Yes, I'm sure of it. Not that I've much to go on. He professed to know very little English, and never spoke it,

except a word or two now and then to help me out of a sentence; and as to his German, he seemed to me to

speak it like a native; but, of course, I'm no judge.' Davies sighed. 'That's where I wanted someone like you.

You would have spotted him at once, if he wasn't German. I go more by awhat do you call it?a'

'Yes, that's what I mean. It was something in his looks and manner; you know how different we are from

foreigners. And it wasn't only himself, it was the way he talkedI mean about cruising and the sea,

especially. It's true he let me do most of the talking; but, all the samehow can I explain it? I felt we

He pretended to think me a bit crazy for coming so far in a small boat, but I could swear he knew as much

about the game as I did; for lots of little questions he asked had the right ring in them. Mind you, all this is an

afterthought. I should never have bothered about itI'm not cut out for a Sherlock Holmesif it hadn't been

'It's rather vague,' I said. 'Have you no more definite reason for thinking him English?'

'There were one or two things rather more definite,' said Davies, slowly. 'You know when he hove to and

hailed me, proposing the short cut, I told you roughly what he said. I forget the exact words, but

"abschneiden" came in"durch Watten" and "abschneiden" (they call the banks "watts", you know); they

were simple words, and he shouted them loud, so as to carry through the wind. I understood what he meant,

but, as I told you, I hesitated before consenting. I suppose he thought I didn't understand, for just as he was

drawing ahead again he pointed to the suth'ard, and then shouted through his hands as a trumpet "Verstehen

Sie? shortcut through sands; follow me!" the last two sentences in downright English. I can hear those

words now, and I'll swear they were in his native tongue. Of course I thought nothing of it at the time. I was

quite aware that he knew a few English words, though he had always mispronounced them; an easy trick

when your hearer suspects nothing. But I needn't say that just then I was observant of trifles. I don't pretend to

be able to unravel a plot and steer a small boat before a heavy sea at the same moment.'

'And if he was piloting you into the next world he could afford to commit himself before you parted! Was

there anything else? By the way, how did the daughter strike you? Did she look English too?'

Two men cannot discuss a woman freely without a deep foundation of intimacy, and, until this day, the

subject had never arisen between us in any form. It was the last that was likely to, for I could have divined

that Davies would have met it with an armour of reserve. He was busy putting on this armour now; yet I

could not help feeling a little brutal as I saw how badly he jointed his clumsy suit of mail. Our ages were the

same, but I laugh now to think how old and blas� I felt as the flush warmed his brown skin, and he slowly

'She seemed to,' admitted Davies, reluctantly, clutching at his ally, the matchbox. 'But, hang it, don't dream

I pondered and wondered, shrinking from further inquisition, easy as it would have been with so truthful a

victim, and banishing all thought of illtimed chaff. There was a crosscurrent in this strange affair, whose

depth and strength I was beginning to gauge with increasing seriousness. I did not know my man yet, and I

did not know myself. A conviction that events in the near future would force us into complete mutual

confidence withheld me from pressing him too far. I returned to the main question; who was Dollmann, and

'I'm convinced,' he said, 'that he's an Englishman in German service. He must be in German service, for he

had evidently been in those waters a long time, and knew every inch of them; of course, it's a very lonely part

of the world, but he has a house on Norderney Island; and he, and all about him, must be well known to a

certain number of people. One of his friends I happened to meet; what do you think he was? A naval officer.

It was on the afternoon of the third day, and we were having coffee on the deck of the Medusa, and talking

about next day's trip, when a little launch came buzzing up from seaward, drew alongside, and this chap I'm

speaking of came on board, shook hands with Dollmann, and stared hard at me. Dollmann introduced us,

calling him Commander von Br�ning, in command of the torpedo gunboat Blitz. He pointed towards

Norderney, and I saw hera low, grey rat of a vesselanchored in the Roads about two miles away. It

turned out that she was doing the work of fishery guardship on that part of the coast.

'I must say I took to him at once. He looked a real good sort, and a splendid officer, toojust the sort of chap

I should have liked to be. You know I always wantedbut that's an old story, and can wait. I had some talk

with him, and we got on capitally as far as we went, but that wasn't far, for I left pretty soon, guessing that

'Oh, Fr�ulein Dollmann was there, of course,' explained Davies, feeling for his armour again.

Scenting a faint clue, I felt the need of feminine weapons for my sensitive antagonist. But the opportunity

'That was the last I saw of him,' he said. 'We sailed, as I told you, at daybreak next morning. Now, have you

Davies sat up to the table, unrolled the chart with a vigorous sweep of his two hands, and took up his parable

'I start with two certainties,' he said. 'One is that I was "moved on" from that coast, because I was too

inquisitive. The other is that Dollmann is at some devil's work there which is worth finding out. Now'he

paused in a gasping effort to be logical and articulate. 'Nowwell, look at the chart. No, better still, look

first at this map of Germany. It's on a small scale, and you can see the whole thing.' He snatched down a

pocketmap from the shelf and unfolded it. 'Here's this huge empire, stretching half over central European

empire growing like wildfire, I believe, in people, and wealth, and everything. They've licked the French, and

the Austrians, and are the greatest military power in Europe. I wish I knew more about all that, but what I'm

concerned with is their seapower. It's a new thing with them, but it's going strong, and that Emperor of

theirs is running it for all it's worth. He's a splendid chap, and anyone can see he's right. They've got no

colonies to speak of, and must have them, like us. They can't get them and keep them, and they can't protect

their huge commerce without naval strength. The command of the sea is the thing nowadays, isn't it? I say,

don't think these are my ideas,' he added, naively. 'It's all out of Mahan and those fellows. Well, the Germans

have got a small fleet at present, but it's a thundering good one, and they're building hard. There's theand

the.' He broke off into a digression on armaments and speeds in which I could not follow him. He seemed

to know every ship by heart. I had to recall him to the point. 'Well, think of Germany as a new seapower,' he

resumed. 'The next thing is, what is her coastline? It's a very queer one, as you know, split clean in two by

Denmark, most of it lying east of that and looking on the Baltic, which is practically an inland sea, with its

entrance blocked by Danish islands. It was to evade that block that William built the ship canal from Kiel to

the Elbe, but that could be easily smashed in wartime. Far the most important bit of coastline is that which

lies west of Denmark and looks on the North Sea. It's there that Germany gets her head out into the open, so

to speak. It's there that she fronts us and France, the two great seapowers of Western Europe, and it's there

'Now it must strike you at once that it's ridiculously short compared with the huge country behind it. From

Borkum to the Elbe, as the crow flies, is only seventy miles. Add to that the west coast of Schleswig, say 120

miles. Total, say, two hundred. Compare that with the seaboard of France and England. Doesn't it stand to

reason that every inch of it is important? Now what sort of coast is it? Even on this small map you can see at

once, by all those wavy lines, shoals and sand everywhere, blocking ninetenths of the land altogether, and

doing their best to block the other tenth where the great rivers run in. Now let's take it bit by bit. You see it

divides itself into three. Beginning from the west the first piece is from Borkum to Wangeroogfifty odd

miles. What's that like? A string of sandy islands backed by sand; the Ems river at the western end, on the

Dutch border, leading to Emdennot much of a place. Otherwise, no coast towns at all. Second piece: a

deep sort of bay consisting of the three great estuariesthe Jade, the Weser, and the Elbeleading to

Wilhelmshaven (their North Sea naval base), Bremen, and Hamburg. Total breadth of bay twenty odd miles

only; sandbanks littered about all through it. Third piece: the Schleswig coast, hopelessly fenced in behind a

six to eight mile fringe of sand. No big towns; one moderate river, the Eider. Let's leave that third piece aside.

I may be wrong, but, in thinking this business out, I've pegged away chiefly at the other two, the

seventymile stretch from Borkum to the Elbehalf of it estuaries, and half islands. It was there that I found

I made an obvious conjecture. 'I suppose there are forts and coast defences? Perhaps he thought you would

'Exactly. Of course that was my first idea; but it can't be that. It doesn't explain things in the least. To begin

with, there are no forts and can be none in that first division, where the islands are. There might be something

on Borkum to defend the Ems; but it's very unlikely, and, anyway, I had passed Borkum and was at

Norderney. There's nothing else to defend. Of course it's different in the second division, where the big rivers

are. There are probably hosts of forts and mines round Wilhelmshaven and Bremerhaven, and at Cuxhaven

just at the mouth of the Elbe. Not that I should ever dream of bothering about them; every steamer that goes

in would see as much as me. Personally, I much prefer to stay on board, and don't often go on shore. And,

good Heavens!' (Davies leant back and laughed joyously) 'do I look like that kind of spy?'

I figured to myself one of those romantic gentlemen that one reads of in sixpenny magazines, with a Kodak in

his tiepin, a sketchbook in the lining of his coat, and a selection of disguises in his hand luggage. Little

'About this coast,' resumed Davies. 'In the event of war it seems to me that every inch of it would be

important, sand and all. Take the big estuaries first, which, of course, might be attacked or blockaded by an

enemy. At first sight you would say that their main channels were the only things that mattered. Now, in time

of peace there's no secrecy about the navigation of these. They're buoyed and lighted like streets, open to the

whole world, and taking an immense traffic; well charted, too, as millions of pounds in commerce depend on

them. But now look at the sands they run through, intersected, as I showed you, by threads of channels, tidal

for the most part, and probably only known to smacks and shallow coasters, like that galliot of Bartels.

'It strikes me that in a war a lot might depend on these, both in defence and attack, for there's plenty of water

in them at the right tide for patrolboats and small torpedo craft, though I an see they take a lot of knowing.

Now, say we were at war with Germanyboth sides could use them as lines between the three estuaries; and

to take our own case, a small torpedoboat (not a destroyer, mind you) could on a dark night cut clean

through from the Jade to the Elbe and play the deuce with the shipping there. But the trouble is that I doubt if

there's a soul in our fleet who knows those channels. We haven't coasters there; and, as to yachts, it's a most

unlikely game for an English yacht to play at; but it does so happen that I have a fancy for that sort of thing

and would have explored those channels in the ordinary course.' I began to see his drift.

'Now for the islands. I was rather stumped there at first, I grant, because, though there are lashings of sand

behind them, and the same sort of intersecting channels, yet there seems nothing important to guard or attack.

'Why shouldn't a stranger ramble as he pleases through them? Still Dollmann had his headquarters there, and

I was sure that had some meaning. Then it struck me that the same point held good, for that strip of Frisian

coast adjoins the estuaries, and would also form a splendid base for raiding midgets, which could travel

unseen right through from the Ems to the Jade, and so to the Elbe, as by a covered way between a line of

'Now here again it's an unknown land to us. Plenty of local galliots travel it, but strangers never, I should say.

Perhaps at he most an occasional foreign yacht gropes in at one of the gaps between the islands for shelter

from bad weather, and is precious lucky to get in safe. Once again, it was my fad to like such places, and

Dollmann cleared me out. He's not a German, but he's in with Germans, and naval Germans too. He's

established on that coast, and knows it by heart. And he tried to drown me. Now what do you think?' He

IT was not an easy question to answer, for the affair was utterly outside all my experience; its background the

sea, and its actual scene a region of the sea of which I was blankly ignorant. There were other difficulties that

I could see perhaps better than Davies, an enthusiast with hobbies, who had been brooding in solitude over

his dangerous adventure. Yet both narrative and theory (which have lost, I fear, in interpretation to the reader)

had strongly affected me; his forcible roughnesses, tricks of manner, sudden bursts of ardour, sudden retreats

into shyness, making up a charm I cannot render. I found myself continually trying to see the man through the

boy, to distinguish sober judgement from the hotheaded vagaries of youth. Not that I dreamed for a moment

of dismissing the story of his wreck as an hallucination. His clear blue eyes and sane simplicity threw ridicule

Evidently, too, he wanted my help, a matter that might well have influenced my opinion on the facts, had he

been other than he was. But it would have taken a 'finished and finite clod' to resist the attraction of the man

and the enterprise; and I take no credit whatever for deciding to follow him, right or wrong. So, when I stated

'There are two main points that I don't understand,' I said. 'First, you've never explained why an

Englishman should be watching those waters and ejecting intruders; secondly, your theory doesn't supply

sufficient motive. There may be much in what you say about the navigation of those channels, but it's not

enough. You say he wanted to drown youa big charge, requiring a big motive to support it. But I don't

deny that you've got a strong case.' Davies lighted up. 'I'm willing to take a good deal for granteduntil we

He jumped up, and did a thing I never saw him do before or sincebumped his head against the cabin roof.

'You mean that you'll come?' he exclaimed. 'Why, I hadn't even asked you! Yes, I want to go back and clear

up the whole thing. I know now that I want to; telling it all to you has been such an immense relief. And a lot

depended on you, too, and that's why I've been feeling such an absolute hypocrite. I say, how can I

'Don't worry about me; I've had a splendid time. And I'll come right enough; but I should like to know exactly

'No; but wait till I just make a clean breast of itabout you, I mean. You see, I came to the conclusion that I

could do nothing alone; not that two are really necessary for managing the boat in the ordinary way, but for

this sort of job you do want two; besides, I can't speak German properly, and I'm a dull chap all round. If my

theory, as you call it, is right, it's a case for sharp wits, if ever there was one; so I thought of you. You're

clever, and I knew you had lived in Germany and knew German, and I knew,' he added, with a little

awkwardness, 'that you had done a good deal of yachting; but of course I ought to have told you what you

were in forroughing it in a small boat with no crew. I felt ashamed of myself when you wired back so

promptly, and when you cameer' Davies stammered and hesitated in the humane resolve not to wound

my feelings. 'Of course I couldn't help noticing that it wasn't what you expected,' was the delicate summary

he arrived at. 'But you took it splendidly,' he hastened to add. 'Only, somehow, I couldn't bring myself to talk

about the plan. It was good enough of you to come out at all, without bothering you with harebrained

schemes. Beside, I wasn't even sure of myself. It's a tangled business. There were reasons, there are reasons

still'he looked nervously at me'whichwell, which make it a tangled business.' I had thought a

confidence was coming, and was disappointed. 'I was in an idiotic state of uncertainty,' he hurried on; 'but the

plan grew on me more and more, when I saw how you were taking to the life and beginning to enjoy yourself.

All that about the ducks on the Frisian coast was humbug; part of a stupid idea of decoying you there and

gaining time. However, you quite naturally objected, and last night I meant to chuck the whole thing up and

'Yes,' said Davies, guiltily. 'I knew he might; and now it's all come out, and you'll come! What a fool I've

Long before he had finished I had grasped the whole meaning of the last few days, and had read their

'For goodness' sake, don't apologize,' I protested. 'I could make confessions, too, if I liked. And I doubt if

you've been such a fool as you think. I'm a patient that wants careful nursing, and it has been the merest

chance all through that I haven't rebelled and bolted. We've got a good deal to thank the weather for, and

other little stimulants. And you don't know yet my reasons for deciding to try your cure at all.'

'My cure?' said Davies; 'what in the world do you mean? It was jolly decent of you to'

'Never mind! There's another view of it, but it doesn't matter now. Let's return to the point. What's your plan

'It's this,' was the prompt reply: 'to get back to the North Sea, via Kiel and the ship canal. Then there will be

two objects: one, to work back to Norderney, where I left off before, exploring all those channels through the

estuaries and islands; the other, to find Dollmann, discover what he's up to, and settle with him. The two

things may overlap, we can't tell yet. I don't even know where he and his yacht are; but I'll be bound they're

'It's a delicate matter,' I mused, dubiously, 'if your theory's correct. Spying on a spy'

'It's not like that,' said Davies, indignantly. 'Anyone who likes can sail about there and explore those waters. I

'I don't think you're likely to do anything dishonourable,' I hastened to explain. 'I grant you the sea's public

property in your sense. I only mean that developments are possible, which you don't reckon on. There

must be more to find out than the mere navigation of those channels, and if that's so, mightn't we come to be

'And, after all, hang it!' exclaimed Davies, 'if it comes to that, why shouldn't we? I look at it like this. The

man's an Englishman, and if he's in with Germany he's a traitor to us, and we as Englishmen have a right to

expose him. If we can't do it without spying we've a right to spy, at our own risk'

'I don't care a rap about that. I'm not such an ass as to thirst for revenge and all that, like some chap in a

shilling shocker. But it makes me wild to think of that fellow masquerading as a German, and up to who

knows what mischiefmischief enough to make him want to get rid of any one. I'm keen about the sea, and I

think they're apt to be a bit slack at home,' he continued inconsequently. 'Those Admiralty chaps want waking

up. Anyway, as far as I'm concerned, it's quite natural that I should look him up again.'

'Quite,' I agreed; 'you parted friends, and they may be delighted to see you. You'll have plenty to talk about.'

'II'm,' said Davies, withered into silence by the 'they'. 'Hullo! I say, do you know it's three o'clock? How

I returned, with a shock, to the present, to the weeping walls, the discoloured deal table, the ghastly breakfast

litterall the visible symbols of the life I had pledged myself to. Disillusionment was making rapid headway

'What do you say to starting for Kiel at once? The fog's going, and there's a breeze from the sou'west.'

'Yes, but it's only twentyfive miles. I know it's not exactly a fair wind, but we shall lie closehauled most of

To argue about winds with Davies was hopeless, and the upshot was that we started lunchless. A pale sun was

flickering out of masses of racing vapour, and through delicate vistas between them the fair land of Schleswig

now revealed and now withdrew her pretty face, as though smiling adieux to her faithless courtiers.

The clank of our chain brought up Bartels to the deck of the Johannes, rubbing his eyes and pulling round his

throat a grey shawl, which gave him a comical likeness to a lodginghouse landlady receiving the milk in

'We're off, Bartels,' said Davies, without looking up from his work. 'See you at Kiel, I hope.'

'You are always in a hurry, captain,' bleated the old man, shaking his head. 'You should wait till tomorrow.

That was a curious evening. Dusk soon fell, and the devil made a determined effort to unman me; first, with

the scrambled tea which was the tardy substitute for an orderly lunch, then with the new and nauseous duty of

filling the sidelights, which meant squatting in the fo'c'sle to inhale paraffin and dabble in lampblack;

lastly, with an allround attack on my nerves as the night fell on our frail little vessel, pitching on her

precarious way through driving mist. In a sense I think I went through the same sort of mental crisis as when

I sat upon my portmanteau at Flensburg. The main issue was not seriously in question, for I had signed on in

the Dulcibella for good or ill; but in doing so I had outrun myself, and still wanted an outlook, a mood suited

to the enterprise, proof against petty discouragements. Not for the first time a sense of the ludicrous came to

my assistance, as I saw myself fretting in London under my burden of selfimposed woes, nicely weighing

that insidious invitation, and stepping finally into the snare with the dignity due to my importance; kidnapped

as neatly as ever a peaceful clerk was kidnapped by a lawless pressgang, and, in the end, finding as the

archconspirator a guileless and warmhearted friend, who called me clever, lodged me in a cell, and blandly

invited me to talk German to the purpose, as he was aiming at a little secret service on the high seas. Close in

the train of Humour came Romance, veiling her face, but I knew it was the rustle of her robes that I heard in

the foam beneath me; I knew that it was she who handed me the cup of sparkling wine and bade me drink and

be merry. Strange to me though it was, I knew the taste when it touched my lips. It was not that bastard

concoction I had tasted in the pseudoBohemias of Soho; it was not the showy but insipid beverage I should

have drunk my fill of at Morven Lodge; it was the purest of her pure vintages, instilling the ancient

inspiration which, under many guises, quickens thousands of better brains than mine, but whose essence is

always the same; the gay pursuit of a perilous quest. Then and there I tried to clinch the matter and keep that

For the present my veins tingled with the draught. The wind humming into the mainsail, the ghostly

wavecrests riding up out of the void, whispered a low thrilling chorus in praise of adventure. Potent indeed

must the spell have been, for, in reality, that first night sail teemed with terrors for me. It is true that it began

well, for the haze dispersed, as Davies had prophesied, and Bulk Point Lighthouse guided us safely to the

mouth of Kiel Fiord. It was during this stage that, crouching together aft, our pipebowls glowing

sympathetically, we returned to the problem before us; for we had shot out on our quest with volcanic

precipitation, leaving much to be discussed. I gleaned a few more facts, though I dispelled no doubts. Davies

had only seen the Dollmanns on their yacht, where father and daughter were living for the time. Their villa at

Norderney, and their home life there, were unknown to him, though he had landed once at the harbour

himself. Further, he had heard vaguely of a stepmother, absent at Hamburg. They were to have joined her on

their arrival at that city, which, be it noted, stands a long way up the Elbe, forty miles and more above

The exact arrangement made on the day before the fatal voyage was that the two yachts should meet in the

evening at Cuxhaven and proceed up the river together. Then, in the ordinary course, Davies would have

parted company at Brunsb�ttel (fifteen miles up), which is the western terminus of the ship canal to the

Baltic. Such at least had been his original intention; but, putting two and two together, I gathered that latterly,

and perhaps unconfessed to himself, his resolve had weakened, and that he would have followed the Medusa

to Hamburg, or indeed the end of the world, impelled by the same motive that, contrary to all his tastes and

principles, had induced him to abandon his life in the islands and undertake the voyage at all. But on that

point he was immovably reticent, and all I could conclude was that the strange crosscurrent connected with

Dollmann's daughter had given him cruel pain and had clouded his judgement to distraction, but that he now

The facts I elicited raised several important questions. Was it not known by this time that he and his yacht

had survived? Davies was convinced that it was not. 'He may have waited at Cuxhaven, or inquired at the

lock at Brunsb�ttel,' he said. 'But there was no need, for I tell you the thing was a certainty. If I had struck

and stuck on that outer bank, as it was a hundred to one I should do, the yacht would have broken up in three

minutes. Bartels would never have seen me, and couldn't have got to me if he had. No one would have seen

'They,' I suggested. 'Who are "they"? Who are our adversaries?' If Dollmann were an accredited agent of the

German AdmiraltyBut, no, it was incredible that the murder of a young Englishman should be connived at

in modern days by a friendly and civilized government! Yet, if he were not such an agent, the whole theory

'I believe,' said Davies, 'that Dollmann did it off his own bat, and beyond that I can't see. And I don't know

that it matters at present. Alive or dead we're doing nothing wrong, and have nothing to be ashamed of.'

'I think it matters a good deal,' I objected. 'Who will be interested in our resurrection, and how are we to go to

work, openly or secretly? I suppose we shall keep out of the way as much as we can?'

'As for keeping out of the way,' said Davies, jerkily, as he peered to windward under the foresail, 'we

must pass the ship canal; that's a public highway, where anyone can see you. After that there won't be much

difficulty. Wait till you see the place!' He gave a low, contented laugh, which would have frozen my marrow

yesterday. 'By the way, that reminds me,' he added; 'we must stop at Kiel for the inside of a day and lay in a

lot of stores. We want to be independent of the shore.' I said nothing. Independence of the shore in a

About nine o'clock we weathered the point, entered Kiel Fiord, and began a dead beat to windward of seven

miles to the head of it where Kiel lies. Hitherto, save for the latent qualms concerning my total helplessness if

anything happened to Davies, interest and excitement had upheld me well. My alarms only began when I

thought them nearly over. Davies had frequently urged me to turn in and sleep, and I went so far as to go

below and coil myself up on the lee sofa with my pencil and diary. Suddenly there was a flapping and rattling

on deck, and I began to slide on to the floor. 'What's happened?' I cried, in a panic, for there was Davies

'Nothing,' he said, chafing his hands for warmth; 'I'm only going about. Hand me the glasses, will you?

There's a steamer ahead. I say, if you really don't want to turn in, you might make some soup. Just let's look

at the chart.' He studied it with maddening deliberation, while I wondered how near the steamer was, and

'Oh, she's all right for a minute,' he said, without looking up. 'Twoone and a halfonelights in line

'No, but come up when you've put the kettle on. It's a pretty beat up the fiord. Lovely breeze.'

His legs disappeared. A sort of buoyant fatalism possessed me as I finished my notes and pored over the

stove. It upheld me, too, when I went on deck and watched the 'pretty beat', whose prettiness was mainly due

to the crowd of fogbound shippingsteamers, smacks, and sailingvesselsnow once more on the move

in the confined fairway of the fiord, their baleful eyes of red, green, or yellow, opening and shutting,

brightening and fading; while shorelights and anchorlights added to my bewilderment, and a throbbing of

screws filled the air like the distant roar of London streets. In fact, every time we spun round for our dart

across the fiord I felt like a rustic matron gathering her skirts for the transit of the Strand on a busy night.

Davies, however, was the street arab who zigzags under the horses' feet unscathed; and all the time he

discoursed placidly on the simplicity and safety of nightsailing if only you are careful, obeying rules, and

burnt good lights. As we were nearing the hot glow in the sky that denoted Kiel we passed a huge

'I SAY, Davies,' I said, 'how long do you think this trip will last? I've only got a month's leave.'

We were standing at slanting desks in the Kiel postoffice, Davies scratching diligently at his lettercard, and

'By Jove!' said Davies, with a start of dismay; 'that's only three weeks more; I never thought of that. You

'I can write to the chief,' I admitted; 'but where's the answer to come to? We're better without an address, I

'There's Cuxhaven,' reflected Davies; 'but that's too near, and there'sbut we don't want to be tied down to

landing anywhere. I tell you what: say "Post Office, Norderney", just your name, not the yacht's. We may get

there and be able to call for letters.' The casual character of our adventure never struck me more strongly than

The notion tickled me, and I said the same in my home letter, adding that we were looking for a friend of

Davies's who would be able to show us some sport. I wrote a line, too, to my chief (unaware of the gravity of

the step I was taking) saying it was possible that I might have to apply for longer leave, as I had important

business to transact in Germany, and asking him kindly to write to the same address. Then we shouldered our

Two full dinghyloads of Stores we ferried to the Dulcibella, chief among which were two immense cans of

petroleum, constituting our reserves of heat and light, and a sack of flour. There were spare ropes and blocks,

too; German charts of excellent quality; cigars and many weird brands of sausage and tinned meats, besides a

miscellany of oddments, some of which only served in the end to slake my companion's craving for jettison.

Clothes were my own chief care, for, freely as I had purged it at Flensburg, my wardrobe was still very

unsuitable, and I had already irretrievably damaged two faultless pairs of white flannels. ('We shall be able to

throw them overboard,' said Davies, hopefully.) So I bought a great pair of seaboots of the country, feltlined

and woodensoled, and both of us got a number of rough woollen garments (as worn by the local fishermen),

breeches, jerseys, helmets, gloves; all of a colour chosen to harmonize with paraffin stains and anchor mud.

The same evening we were taking our last look at the Baltic, sailing past warships and groups of idle yachts

battened down for their winter's sleep; while the noble shores of the fiord, with its villas embowered in

We rounded the last headland, steered for a galaxy of coloured lights, tumbled down our sails, and came to

under the colossal gates of the Holtenau lock. That these would open to such an infinitesimal suppliant

seemed inconceivable. But open they did, with ponderous majesty, and our tiny hull was lost in the womb of

a lock designed to float the largest battleships. I thought of Boulter's on a hot August Sunday, and wondered

if I really was the same peevish dandy who had jostled and sweltered there with the noisy cockney throng a

month ago. There was a blaze of electricity overhead, but utter silence till a solitary cloaked figure hailed us

and called for the captain. Davies ran up a ladder, disappeared with the cloaked figure, and returned

crumpling a paper into his pocket. It lies before me now, and sets forth, under the stamp of the K�nigliches

Zollamt, that, in consideration of the sum of ten marks for dues and four for tonnage, an imperial tug would

tow the vessel Dulcibella (master A. H. Davies) through the Kaiser Wilhelm Canal from Holtenau to

Brunsb�ttel. Magnificent condescension! I blush when I look at this yellow document and remember the

stately courtesy of the great lock gates; for the sleepy officials of the K�nigliches Zollamt little knew what an

insidious little viper they were admitting into the imperial bosom at the light toll of fourteen shillings.

'Seems cheap,' said Davies, joining me, 'doesn't it? They've a regular tariff on tonnage, same for yachts as for

liners. We start at four tomorrow with a lot of other boats. I wonder if Bartels is here.'

The same silence reigned, but invisible forces were at work. The inner gates opened and we prised ourselves

through into a capacious basin, where lay moored side by side a flotilla of sailing vessels of various sizes.

Having made fast alongside a vacant space of quay, we had our dinner, and then strolled out with cigars to

look for the Johannes. We found her wedged among a stack of galliots, and her skipper sitting primly below

before a blazing stove, reading his Bible through spectacles. He produced a bottle of schnapps and some very

small and hard pears, while Davies twitted him mercilessly about his false predictions.

'The sky was not good,' was all he said, beaming indulgently at his incorrigible young friend.

Before parting for the night it was arranged that next morning we should lash alongside the Johannes when

The scheme was carried out, not without much confusion and loss of paint, in the small hours of a dark and

drizzling morning. Boisterous little tugs sorted us into parties, and half lost under the massive bulwarks of the

Johannes we were carried off into a black inane. If any doubt remained as to the significance of our change of

cruisinggrounds, dawn dispelled it. View there was none from the deck of the Dulcibella; it was only by

standing on the mainboom that you could see over the embankments to the vast plain of Holstein, grey and

monotonous under a pall of mist. The soft scenery of the Schleswig coast was a baseless dream of the past,

and a cold penetrating rain added the last touch of dramatic completeness to the staging of the new act.

For two days we travelled slowly up the mighty waterway that is the strategic link between the two seas of

Germany. Broad and straight, massively embanked, lit by electricity at night till it is lighter than many a great

London street; traversed by great war vessels, rich merchantmen, and humble coasters alike, it is a symbol of

the new and mighty force which, controlled by the genius of statesmen and engineers, is thrusting the empire

Karl was the shockheaded, stoutlimbed boy of about sixteen, who constituted the whole crew of the

Johannes, and was as dirty as his master was clean. I felt a certain envious reverence for this unprepossessing

youth, seeing in him a much more efficient counterpart of myself; but how he and his little master ever

managed to work their ungainly vessel was a miracle I never understood. Phlegmatically impervious to rain

and cold, he steered the Johannes down the long grey reaches in the wake of the tug, while we and Bartels

held snug gatherings down below, sometimes in his cabin, sometimes in ours. The heating arrangements of

the latter began to be a subject of serious concern. We finally did the only logical thing, and brought the

kitchenrange into the parlour, fixing the Rippingille stove on the forward end of the cabin table, where it

could warm as well as cook for us. As an ornament it was monstrous, and the taint of oil which it introduced

was a disgusting drawback; but, after all, the great thingas Davies saidis to be comfortable, and after

Davies held long consultations with Bartels, who was thoroughly at home in the navigation of the sands we

were bound for, his own boat being a type of the very craft which ply in them. I shall not forget the moment

when it first dawned on him that his young friend's curiosity was practical; for he had thought that our goal

'Safe! And have I not found you fast on Hohenh�rn, in a storm, with your rudder broken? God was good to

'Yes, but it wasn't my f' Davies checked himself. 'We're going home. There's nothing in that.' Bartels

'It is good that you have a friend,' was his last word on the subject; but all the same he always glanced at me

with a rather doubtful eye. As to Davies and myself, our friendship developed quickly on certain limited

lines, the chief obstacle, as I well know now, being his reluctance to talk about the personal side of our quest.

On the other hand, I spoke about my own life and interests, with an unsparing discernment, of which I should

have been incapable a month ago, and in return I gained the key to his own character. It was devotion to the

sea, wedded to a fire of pentup patriotism struggling incessantly for an outlet in strenuous physical

expression; a humanity, born of acute sensitiveness to his own limitations, only adding fuel to the flame. I

learnt for the first time now that in early youth he had failed for the navy, the first of several failures in his

career. 'And I can't settle down to anything else,' he said. 'I read no end about it, and yet I am a useless

outsider. All I've been able to do is to potter about in small boats; but it's all been wasted till this chance

came. I'm afraid you'll not understand how I feel about it; but at last, for once in a way, I see a chance of

'There ought to be chances for chaps like you,' I said, 'without the accident of a job such as this.'

'Oh, as long as I get it, what matter? But I know what you mean. There must be hundreds of chaps like meI

know a good many myselfwho know our coasts like a bookshoals, creeks, tides, rocks; there's nothing

in it, it's only practice. They ought to make some use of us as a naval reserve. They tried to once, hut it

fizzled out, and nobody really cares. And what's the result? Using every man of what reserves we've got,

there's about enough to man the fleet on a war footing, and no more. They've tinkered with fishermen, and

merchant sailors, and yachting hands, but everyone of them ought to be got hold of; and the colonies, too. Is

there the ghost of a doubt that if war broke out there'd be wild appeals for volunteers, aimless cadging, hurry,

confusion, waste? My own idea is that we ought to go much further, and train every ablebodied man for a

couple of years as a sailor. Army? Oh, I suppose you'd have to give them the choice. Not that I know or care

much about the Army, though to listen to people talk you'd think it really mattered as the Navy matters. We're

a maritime nationwe've grown by the sea and live by it; if we lose command of it we starve. We're unique

in that way, just as our huge empire, only linked by the sea, is unique. And yet, read Brassey, Dilke, and

those "Naval Annuals", and see what mountains of apathy and conceit have had to be tackled. It's not the

people's fault. We've been safe so long, and grown so rich, that we've forgotten what we owe it to. But there's

no excuse for those blockheads of statesmen, as they call themselves, who are paid to see things as they are.

They have to go to an American to learn their A B C, and it's only when kicked and punched by civilian

agitators, a mere handful of men who get sneered at for their pains, that they wake up, do some work, point

proudly to it, and go to sleep again, till they get another kick. By Jove! we want a man like this Kaiser, who

doesn't wait to be kicked, but works like a nigger for his country, and sees ahead.'

'Oh, of course, we are! But it's a constant uphill fight; and we aren't ready. They talk of a twopower

standard' He plunged away into regions where space forbids me to follow him. This is only a sample of

many similar conversations that we afterwards held, always culminating in the burning question of Germany.

Far from including me and the Foreign Office among his targets for vague invective, he had a profound

respect for my sagacity and experience as a member of that institution; a respect which embarrassed me not a

little when I thought of my pr�cis writing and cigarettesmoking, my dancing, and my dining. But I did know

something of Germany, and could satisfy his tireless questioning with a certain authority. He used to listen

rapt while I described her marvellous awakening in the last generation, under the strength and wisdom of her

rulers; her intense patriotic ardour; her seething industrial activity, and, most potent of all, the forces that are

moulding modern Europe, her dream of a colonial empire, entailing her transformation from a landpower to

a seapower. Impregnably based on vast territorial resources which we cannot molest, the dim instincts of her

people, not merely directed but anticipated by the genius of her ruling house, our great trade rivals of the

present, our great naval rival of the future, she grows, and strengthens, and waits, an ever more formidable

factor in the future of our delicate network of empire, sensitive as gossamer to external shocks, and radiating

from an island whose commerce is its life, and which depends even for its daily ration of bread on the free

'And we aren't ready for her,' Davies would say; 'we don't look her way. We have no naval base in the North

Sea, and no North Sea Fleet. Our best battleships are too deep in draught for North Sea work. And, to crown

all, we were asses enough to give her Heligoland, which commands her North Sea coast. And supposing she

That would lead me to describe the swollen ambitions of the PanGermanic party, and its ceaseless intrigues

to promote the absorption of Austria, Switzerland, anda direct and flagrant menace to ourselvesof

'I don't blame them,' said Davies, who, for all his patriotism, had not a particle of racial spleen in his

composition. 'I don't blame them; their Rhine ceases to be German just when it begins to be most valuable.

The mouth is Dutch, and would give them magnificent ports just opposite British shores. We can't talk about

conquest and grabbing. We've collared a fine share of the world, and they've every right to be jealous. Let

them hate us, and say so; it'll teach us to buck up; and that's what really matters.'

In these talks there occurred a singular contact of minds. It was very well for me to spin sonorous

generalities, but I had never till now dreamed of being so vulgar as to translate them into practice. I had

always detested the meddlesome alarmist, who veils ignorance under noisiness, and for ever wails his chant

of lugubrious pessimism. To be thrown with Davies was to receive a shock of enlightenment; for here, at

least, was a specimen of the breed who exacted respect. It is true he made use of the usual jargon, interlarding

his stammering sentences (sometimes, when he was excited, with the oddest effect) with the conventional

catchwords of the journalist and platform speaker. But these were but accidents; for he seemed to have caught

his innermost conviction from the very soul of the sea itself. An armchair critic is one thing, but a sunburnt,

brineburnt zealot smarting under a personal discontent, athirst for a means, however tortuous, of

contributing his effort to the great cause, the maritime supremacy of Britain, that was quite another thing. He

drew inspiration from the very wind and spray. He communed with his tiller, I believe, and marshalled his

figures with its help. To hear him talk was to feel a current of clarifying air blustering into a close clubroom,

where men bandy ineffectual platitudes, and mumble old shibboleths, and go away and do nothing.

In our talk about policy and strategy we were Bismarcks and Rodneys, wielding nations and navies; and,

indeed, I have no doubt that our fancy took extravagant flights sometimes. In plain fact we were merely two

young gentlemen in a seventon pleasure boat, with a taste for amateur hydrography and police duty

combined. Not that Davies ever doubted. Once set on the road he gripped his purpose with childlike faith

IN the late afternoon of the second day our flotilla reached the Elbe at Brunsb�ttel and ranged up in the inner

basin, while a big liner, whimpering like a fretful baby, was tenderly nursed into the lock. During the delay

Davies left me in charge, and bolted off with an oilcan and a milkjug. An official in uniform was passing

along the quay from vessel to vessel countersigning papers. I went up to meet him with our receipt for dues,

which he signed carelessly. Then he paused and muttered 'Dooltzhibella,' scratching his head, 'that was the

'Three weeks? It was the day before yesterday. What a pity to miss him by so little!' He chuckled and winked.

'It was a lady who inquired,' whispered the fellow, sniggering. 'Oh, really,' I said, beginning to feel highly

'Herrgott! she was difficult to satisfy! Stood over me while I searched the books. "A very little one," she kept

saying, and "Are you sure all the names are here?" I saw her into her kleine Boot, and she rowed away in the

rain. No, she left no message. It was dirty weather for a young fr�ulein to be out alone in. Ach! she was safe

'How do I know? Bremen, Wilhelmshaven, Emden somewhere in the North Sea; too far for you.'

'Think twice, captain, there are plenty of pretty girls in Hamburg. But you English will do anything. Well,

He moved on, chuckling, to the next boat. Davies soon returned with his cans and an armful of dark, rye

loaves, just in time, for, the liner being through, the flotilla was already beginning to jostle into the lock and

'They'll last ten days,' he said, as we followed the throng, still clinging like a barnacle to the side of the

Johannes. We spent the few minutes while the lock was emptied in a farewell talk to Bartels. Karl had hitched

their main halyards on to the windlass and was grinding at it in an acharnement of industry, his shock head

jerking and his grubby face perspiring. Then the lock gates opened; and so, in a Babel of shouting, whining of

blocks, and creaking of spars, our whole company was split out into the dingy bosom of the Elbe. The

Johannes gathered way under wind and tide and headed for midstream. A last shake of the hand, and Bartels

reluctantly slipped the headrope and we drifted apart. 'Gute Reise! Gute Reise!' It was no time for regretful

gazing, for the floodtide was sweeping us up and out, and it was not until we had set the foresail, edged into

a shallow bight, and let go our anchor, that we had leisure to think of him again; but by that time his and the

We swung close to a glacis of smooth blue mud which sloped up to a weedgrown dyke; behind lay the same

flat country, colourless, humid; and opposite us, two miles away, scarcely visible in the deepening twilight,

ran the outline of a similar shore. Between rolled the turgid Elbe. 'The Styx flowing through Tartarus,' I

I told my news to Davies as soon as the anchor was down, instinctively leaving the sex of the inquirer to the

'The Medusa called yesterday?' he interrupted. 'And outward bound? That's a rum thing. Why didn't he

'It was a lady,' and I drily retailed the official's story, very busy with a deckbroom the while. 'We're all

Davies had been engaged in fixing up the ridinglight. When I last saw him he was still so engaged, but

motionless, the lantern under his left arm. and his right hand grasping the forestay and the halfknotted

lanyard; his eyes staring fixedly down the river, a strange look in his face, half exultant, half perplexed. When

'Anyway, it proves,' he said, 'that the Medusa has gone back to Norderney. That's the main thing.'

'Probably,' I agreed, 'but let's sum up all we know. First, it's certain that nobody we've met as yet has any

suspicion of us' 'I told you he did it off his own bat,' threw in Davies. 'Or, secondly, of him. If he's what you

'Thirdly, he inquires for you on his way back from Hamburg, three weeks after the event. It doesn't look as if

he thought he had disposed of youit doesn't look as if he had meant to dispose of you. He sends his

daughter, tooa curious proceeding under the circumstances. Perhaps it's all a mistake.'

'It's not a mistake,' said Davies, half to himself. 'But did he send her? He'd have sent one of his men. He can't

'He must have left the yacht when he got to Hamburg; some other devil's work, I suppose. She's being sailed

'She's used to the seaand perhaps she isn't alone. There was that stepmotherBut it doesn't make a

We were busier than usual that night, reckoning stores, tidying lockers, and securing movables. 'We must

economize,' said Davies, for all the world as though we were castaways on a raft. 'It's a wretched thing to

Before getting to sleep I was made to recognize a new factor in the conditions of navigation, now that the

tideless Baltic was left behind us. A strong current was sluicing past our sides, and at the eleventh hour I was

turned out, clad in pyjamas and oilskins (a horrible combination), to assist in running out a kedge or spare

'What's kedgingoff?' I asked, when we were tucked up again. 'Oh, it's when you run aground; you have

So behold us, then, at eight o'clock on 5th October, standing down the river towards the field of our first

labours. It is fifteen miles to the mouth; drab, dreary miles like the dullest reaches of the lower Thames; but

scenery was of no concern to us, and a southwesterly breeze blowing out of a grey sky kept us constantly on

the verge of reefing. The tide as it gathered strength swept us down with a force attested by the speed with

which buoys came in sight, nodded above us and passed, each boiling in its eddy of dirty foam. I scarcely

noticed at firstso calm was the water, and so regular were the buoys, like milestones along a roadthat

the northern line of coast was rapidly receding and that the 'river' was coming to be but a belt of deep water

'So it is, till we reach this coast at Cuxhaven; but I suppose you may say we're at sea; of course that's all sand

He pointed into the north. Looking more attentively I noticed that outside the line of buoys patches of the

surface heaved and worked; in one or two places streaks and circles of white were forming; in the midst of

one such circle a sleek mauve hump had risen, like the back of a sleeping whale. I saw that an old spell was

enthralling Davies as his eye travelled away to the blank horizon. He scanned it all with a critical eagerness,

too, as one who looks for a new meaning in an old friend's face. Something of his zest was communicated to

me, and stilled the shuddering thrill that had seized me. The protecting land was still a comforting neighbour;

but our severance with it came quickly. The tide whirled us down, and our straining canvas aiding it, we were

soon off Cuxhaven, which crouched so low behind its mighty dyke, that of some of its houses only the

chimneys were visible. Then, a mile or so on, the shore sharpened to a point like a claw, where the innocent

dyke became a long, low fort, with some great guns peeping over; then of a sudden it ceased, retreating into

We spun out into the open and leant heavily over to the now unobstructed wind. The yacht rose and sank to a

little swell, but my first impression was one of wonder at the calmness of the sea, for the wind blew fresh and

'Why, it's all sand there now, and we're under the lee of it,' said Davies, with an enthusiastic sweep of his

'Just pull up the centreboard, will you?' he remarked abstractedly, adding, 'and hand me up the glasses as

'Never mind the glasses. I've got it now; come to the mainsheet,' was the next remark.

He put down the helm and headed the yacht straight for the troubled and discoloured expanse which covered

the submerged sands. A 'sleeping whale', with a light surf splashing on it, was right in our path.

'Stand by the lead, will you?' said Davies, politely. 'I'll manage the sheets, it's a dead beat in. Ready about!'

The wind was in our teeth now, and for a crowded halfhour we wormed ourselves forward by

evershortening tacks into the sinuous recesses of a channel which threaded the shallows westward. I knelt in

a tangle of line, and, under the hazy impression that something very critical was going on, plied the lead

furiously, bumping and splashing myself, and shouting out the depths, which lessened steadily, with a great

sense of the importance of my function. Davies never seemed to listen, but tacked on imperturbably, juggling

with the tiller, the sheets, and the chart, in a way that made one giddy to look at. For all our zeal we seemed

'Chance what?' I wondered to myself. Our tacks suddenly began to grow longer, and the depths, which I

registered, shallower. All went well for some time though, and we made better progress. Then came a longer

'Two and a halftwoone and a halfoneonly five feet,' I gasped, reproachfully. The water was

'It doesn't matter if we do,' said Davies, thinking aloud. 'There's an eddy here, and it's a pity to waste

But it was too late. The yacht answered but faintly to the helm, stopped, and heeled heavily over, wallowing

and grinding. Davies had the mainsail down in a twinkling; it half smothered me as I crouched on the

leeside among my tangled skeins of line, scared and helpless. I crawled out from the folds, and saw him

'It's not much use,' he said, 'on a falling tide, but we'll try kedgingoff. Pay that warp out while I run out the

Like lightning he had cast off the dinghy's painter, tumbled the kedgeanchor and himself into the dinghy,

'The warp is, the yacht isn't; you're dragging the anchor home. Never mind, she'll lie well here. Let's have

The yacht was motionless, and the water round her visibly lower. Petulant waves slapped against her sides,

but, scattered as my senses were, I realized that there was no vestige of danger. Round us the whole face of

the waters was changing from moment to moment, whitening in some places, yellowing in others, where

breadths of sand began to be exposed. Close on our right the channel we had left began to look like a turbid

little river; and I understood why our progress had been so slow when I saw its current racing back to meet

the Elbe. Davies was already below, laying out a more than usually elaborate lunch, in high content of mind.

'Lies quiet, doesn't she?' he remarked. 'If you do want a sitdown lunch, there's nothing like running aground

for it. And, anyhow, we're as handy for work here as anywhere else. You'll see.'

Like most landsmen I had a wholesome prejudice against running aground', so that my mentor's turn for

breezy paradox was at first rather exasperating. After lunch the largescale chart of the estuaries was brought

down, and we pored over it together, mapping out work for the next few days. There is no need to tire the

general reader with its intricacies, nor is there space to reproduce it for the benefit of the instructed reader.

For both classes the general map should be sufficient, taken with the largescale fragment which gives a fair

example of the region in detail. It will be seen that the three broad fairways of the Jade, Weser, and Elbe split

up the sands into two main groups. The westernmost of these is symmetrical in outline, an acuteangled

triangle, very like a sharp steelshod pike, if you imagine the peninsula from which it springs to be the

wooden haft. The other is a huge congeries of banks, its base resting on the Hanover coast, two of its sides

tolerably clean and even, and the third, that facing the northwest, ribboned and lacerated by the fury of the

sea, which has eaten out deep cavities and struck hungry tentacles far into the interior. The whole resembles

an inverted E, or, better still, a rude fork, on whose three deadly prongs, the Scharhorn Reef, the Knecht

Sand, and the Tegeler Flat, as on the no less deadly point of the pike, many a good ship splinters herself in

northerly gales. Following this simile, the Hohenh�rn bank, where Davies was wrecked, is one of those that

Our business was to explore the Pike and the Fork and the channels which ramify through them. I use the

general word 'channel', but in fact they differ widely in character, and are called in German by various names:

Balje, Gat, Loch, Diep. Rinne. For my purpose I need only divide them into two sorts those which have

water in them at all states of the tide, and those which have not, which dry off, that is, either wholly or partly

Davies explained that the latter would take most learning, and were to be our chief concern, because they

were the 'throughroutes'the connecting links between the estuaries. You can always detect them on the

chart by rows of little Yshaped strokes denoting 'booms', that is to say, poles or saplings fixed in the sand to

mark the passage. The strokes, of course, are only conventional signs, and do not correspond in the least to

individual 'booms', which are far too numerous and complex to be indicated accurately on a chart, even of the

largest scale. The same applies to the course of the channels themselves, whose minor meanderings cannot be

It was on the edge of one of these tidal swatchways that the yacht was now lying. It is called Sticker's Gat,

and you cannot miss it if you carry your eye westward along our course from Cuxhaven. It was, so Davies

told me, the last and most intricate stage of the 'short cut' which the Medusa had taken on that memorable

daya stage he himself had never reached. Discussion ended, we went on deck, Davies arming himself with

a notebook, binoculars, and the prismatic compass, whose useto map the angles of the channelswas at

THE yacht lay with a very slight heel (thanks to a pair of small bilgekeels on her bottom) in a sort of trough

she had dug for herself, so that she was still ringed with a few inches of water, as it were with a moat.

For miles in every direction lay a desert of sand. To the north it touched the horizon, and was only broken by

the blue dot of Neuerk Island and its lighthouse. To the east it seemed also to stretch to infinity, but the

smoke of a steamer showed where it was pierced by the stream of the Elbe. To the south it ran up to the

pencilline of the Hanover shore. Only to the west was its outline broken by any vestiges of the sea it had

risen from. There it was astir with crawling white filaments, knotted confusedly at one spot in the northwest,

whence came a sibilant murmur like the hissing of many snakes. Desert as I call it, it was not entirely

featureless. Its colour varied from light fawn, where the highest levels had dried in the wind, to brown or

deep violet, where it was still wet, and slategrey where patches of mud soiled its clean bosom. Here and

there were pools of water, smitten into ripples by the impotent wind; here and there it was speckled by shells

and seaweed. And close to us, beginning to bend away towards that hissing knot in the northwest, wound

our poor little channel, mercilessly exposed as a stagnant, muddy ditch with scarcely a foot of water, not deep

enough to hide our small kedgeanchor, which perked up one fluke in impudent mockery. The dull, hard sky,

the wind moaning in the rigging as though crying in despair for a prey that had escaped it, made the scene

Davies scanned it with gusto for a moment, climbed to a point of vantage on the boom, and swept his glasses

'Fairly well boomed,' he said, meditatively, 'but one or two are very much out. By Jove! that's a tricky bend

there.' He took a bearing with the compass, made a note or two, and sprang with a vigorous leap down on to

This, I may say, was the only way of 'going ashore' that he really liked. We raced off as fast as our clumsy

seaboots would let us, and followed up the course of our channel to the west, reconnoitring the road we

'The only way to learn a place like this,' he shouted, 'is to see it at low water. The banks are dry then, and the

channels are plain. Look at that boom'he stopped and pointed contemptuously'it's all out of place. I

suppose the channel's shifted there. It's just at an important bend too. If you took it as a guide when the water

'Oh, hang it!' he laughed, 'we're exploring. I want to be able to run through this channel without a mistake.

We will, next time.' He stopped, and plied compass and notebook. Then we raced on till the next halt was

'Look,' he said, the channel's getting deeper, it was nearly dry a moment ago; see the current in it now? That's

the flood tide coming upfrom the west, mind you; that is, from the Weser side. That shows we're past the

'Yes, that's what I call it. You see, a big sand such as this is like a range of hills dividing two plains, it's never

dead flat though it looks it; there's always one point, one ridge, rather, where it's highest. Now a channel

cutting right through the sand is, of course, always at its shallowest when it's crossing this ridge; at low water

it's generally dry there, and it gradually deepens as it gets nearer to the sea on either side. Now at high tide,

when the whole sand is covered, the water can travel where it likes; but directly the ebb sets in the water falls

away on either side the ridge and the channel becomes two rivers flowing in opposite directions from the

centre, or watershed, as I call it. So, also, when the ebb has run out and the flood begins, the channel is fed by

two currents flowing to the centre and meeting in the middle. Here the Elbe and the Weser are our two

feeders. Now this current here is going eastwards; we know by the time of day that the tide's rising,

'Because these currents are strong, and you want to know when you'll lose a fair one and strike a foul one.

Besides, the ridge is the critical point when you're crossing on a falling tide, and you want to know when

We pushed on till our path was barred by a big lagoon. It looked far more imposing than the channel; but

'It's boomed,' I remonstrated, pointing to a decrepit stem drooping over the bank, and shaking a palsied finger

'Yes, that's just where one goes wrong, it's an old cut that's silted up. That boom's a fraud; there's no time to

go farther, the flood's making fast. I'll just take bearings of what we can see.'

The false lagoon was the first of several that began to be visible in the west, swelling and joining hands over

the ribs of sand that divided them. All the time the distant hissing grew nearer and louder, and a deep,

thunderous note began to sound beneath it. We turned our backs to the wind and hastened back towards the

'There's just time to do the other side,' said Davies, when we reached her, and I was congratulating myself on

having regained our base without finding our communications cut. And away we scurried in the direction we

had come that morning, splashing through pools and jumping the infant runnels that were stealing out

through rifts from the motherchannel as the tide rose. Our observations completed, back we travelled,

making a wide circuit over higher ground to avoid the encroaching flood, and wading shindeep in the final

As I scrambled thankfully aboard, I seemed to hear a faroff voice saying, in languid depreciation of

yachting, that it did not give one enough exercise. It was mine, centuries ago, in another life. From east and

west two sheets of water had overspread the desert, each pushing out tongues of surf that met and fused.

I waited on deck and watched the deaththroes of the suffocating sands under the relentless onset of the sea.

The last strongholds were battered, stormed, and overwhelmed; the tumult of sounds sank and steadied, and

the sea swept victoriously over the whole expanse. The Dulcibella, hitherto contemptuously inert, began to

wake and tremble under the buffetings she received. Then, with an effort, she jerked herself on to an even

keel and bumped and strained fretfully, impatient to vanquish this insolent invader and make him a slave for

her own ends. Soon her warp tightened and her nose swung slowly round; only her stern bumped now, and

that with decreasing force. Suddenly she was free and drifting broadside to the wind till the anchor checked

her and she brought up to leeward of it, rocking easily and triumphantly. Goodhumoured little person! At

heart she was friends alike with sand and sea. It was only when the old love and the new love were in mortal

combat for her favours, and she was mauled in the fracas, that her temper rose in revolt.

We swallowed a hasty cup of tea, ran up the sails, and started off west again. Once across the 'watershed' we

met a strong current, but the trend of the passage was now more to the northwest, so that we could hold our

course without tacking, and consequently could stem the tide. 'Give her just a foot of the centreplate,' said

Davies. 'We know the way here, and she'll make less leeway; but we shall generally have to do without it

always on a falling tide. If you run aground with the plate down you deserve to be drowned.' I now saw how

valuable our walk had been. The booms were on our right; but they were broken reeds, giving no hint as to

the breadth of the channel. A few had lost their tops, and were being engulfed altogether by the rising water.

When we came to the point where they ceased, and the false lagoon had lain, I should have felt utterly lost.

We had crossed the high and relatively level sands which form the base of the Fork, and were entering the

labyrinth of detached banks which obstruct the funnelshaped cavity between the upper and middle prongs.

This I knew from the chart. My unaided eye saw nothing but the open sea, growing dark green as the depths

increased; a dour, threatening sea, showing its white fangs. The waves grew longer and steeper, for the

Davies had his bearings, and struck on his course confidently. 'Now for the lead,' he said; 'the compass'll be

little use soon. We must feel the edge of the sands till we pick up more booms.'

Partly by sight and mostly by touch we crept round the outermost alley of the hidden maze till a new clump

of booms appeared, meaningless to me, but analysed by him into two groups. One we followed for some

Dusk was falling. The Hanover coastline, never very distinct, had utterly vanished; an ominous heave of

swell was underrunning the short sea. I ceased to attend to Davies imparting instruction on his beloved

hobby, and sought to stifle in hard manual labour the dread that had been latent in me all day at the prospect

'Sound, like blazes now!' he said at last. I came to a fathom and a half. 'That's the bank,' he said; 'we'll give it

'Let go now!' was the order after a minute, and the chain ran out with a longdrawn moan. The Dulcibella

'There we are!' said Davies, as we finished stowing the mainsail, 'safe and snug in four fathoms in a

magnificent sandharbour, with no one to bother us and the whole of it to ourselves. No dues, no stinks, no

traffic, no worries of any sort. It's better than a Baltic cove even, less beastly civilization about. We're seven

miles from the nearest coast, and five even from Neuerklook, they're lighting up.' There was a tiny spark in

'I suppose it's all right,' I said, 'but I'd rather see a solid breakwater somewhere; it's a dirtylooking night, and

'The swell's nothing,' said Davies; 'it's only a stray drain from outside. As for breakwaters, you've got them all

round you, only they're hidden. Ahead and to starboard is the West Hohenh�rn, curling round to the

sou'west for all the world like a stone pier. You can hear the surf battering on its outside over to the north.

That's where I was nearly wrecked that day, and the little channel I stumbled into must be quite near us

somewhere. Half a mile awayto port thereis the East Hohenh�rn, where I brought up, after dashing

across this lake we're in. Another mile astern is the main body of the sands, the top prong of your fork. So

'Oh, confound the chart!' I broke out, finding this flow of plausible comfort too dismally suggestive for my

nerves. 'Look at it, man! Supposing anything happenssupposing it blows a gale! But it's no good shivering

There was a mauvais quart d'heure below, during which, I am ashamed to say, I forgot the quest.

'Which soup do you feel inclined for?' said Davies, timidly, after a black silence of some minutes.

That simple remark, more eloquent of security than a thousand technical arguments, saved the situation.

'I say, Davies,' I said, 'I'm a whitelivered cur at the best, and you mustn't spare me. But you're not like any

yachtsman I ever met before, or any sailor of any sort. You're so casual and quiet in the extraordinary things

you do. I believe I should like you better if you let fly a volley of deepsea oaths sometimes, or threatened to

Davies opened wide eyes, and said it was all his fault for forgetting that I was not as used to such anchorages

as he was. 'And, by the way,' he added, 'as to its blowing a gale, I shouldn't wonder if it did; the glass is

falling hard; but it can't hurt us. You see, even at high water the drift of the sea'

'Oh, for Heaven's sake, don't begin again. You'll prove soon that we're safer here than in an hotel. Let's have

Dinner ran a smooth course, but just as coffee was being brewed the hull, from pitching regularly, began to

'I knew she would,' said Davies. 'I was going to warn you, onlythe ebb has set in against the wind. It's

'So it will, but it may seem rougher. Tides are queer things,' he added, as though in defence of some not very

He busied himself with his logbook, swaying easily to the motion of the boat; and I for my part tried to write

up my diary, but I could not fix my attention. Every loose article in the boat became audibly restless. Cans

clinked, cupboards rattled, lockers uttered hollow groans. Small things sidled out of dark hidingplaces, and

danced grotesque drunken figures on the floor, like goblins in a haunted glade. The mast whined dolorously

at every heel, and the centreboard hiccoughed and choked. Overhead another horde of demons seemed to

have been let loose. The deck and mast were conductors which magnified every sound and made the taptap

of every rope's end resemble the blows of a hammer, and the slapping of the halyards against the mast the

rattle of a Maxim gun. The whole tumult beat time to a rhythmical chorus which became maddening.

'What, sleep through this?' I exclaimed. 'I can't stand this, I must do something. Can't we go for another

'Of course we can,' said Davies, 'if you don't mind a bit of a tumble in the dinghy.'

I reconsidered my rash suggestion, but it was too late now to turn back, and some desperate expedient was

necessary. I found myself on deck, gripping a backstay and looking giddily down and then up at the dinghy,

as it bobbed like a cork in the trough of the sea alongside, while Davies settled the sculls and rowlocks.

'Jump!' he shouted, and before I could gather my wits and clutch the sides we were adrift in the night, reeling

from hollow to hollow of the steep curling waves. Davies nursed our walnutshell tenderly over their crests,

edging her slantwise across their course. He used very little exertion, relying on the tide to carry us to our

goal. Suddenly the motion ceased. A dark slope loomed up out of the night, and the dinghy rested softly in a

'The West Hohenh�rn,' said Davies. We jumped out and sank into soft mud, hauled up the dinghy a foot or

two, then mounted the bank and were on hard, wet sand. The wind leapt on us, and choked our voices.

'Let's find my channel,' bawled Davies. 'This way. Keep Neuerk light right astern of you.'

We set off with a long, stooping stride in the teeth of the wind, and straight towards the roar of the breakers

on the farther side of the sand. A line of Matthew Arnold's, 'The naked shingles of the world,' was running in

my head. 'Seven miles from land,' I thought, 'scuttling like seabirds on a transient islet of sand, encircled by

rushing tides and hammered by ocean, at midnight in a rising galecut off even from our one dubious

refuge.' It was the time, if ever, to conquer weakness. A mad gaiety surged through me as I drank the wind

The ground sloped down, and a rushing river glimmered before us. We struck off at a tangent and followed

its course to the north, stumbling in muddy rifts, slipping on seaweed, beginning to be blinded by a fine salt

spray, and deafened by the thunder of the ocean surf. The river broadened, whitened, roughened. gathered

itself for the shock, was shattered, and dissolved in milky gloom. We wheeled away to the right, and splashed

into yeasty froth. I turned my back to the wind, scooped the brine out of my eyes, faced back and saw that our

path was barred by a welter of surf. Davies's voice was in my ear and his arm was pointing seaward.

We galloped away with the wind behind us, skirting the line of surf. I lost all account of time and direction.

Another sea barred our road, became another river as we slanted along its shore. Again we were in the teeth

of that intoxicating wind. Then a point of light was swaying and flickering away to the left, and now we were

checking and circling. I stumbled against something sharpthe dinghy's gunwale. So we had completed the

circuit of our fugitive domain, that dreamislandnightmare island as I always remember it.

'You must scull, too,' said Davies. 'It's blowing hard now. Keep her nose up a littleall you know!'

We lurched along, my scull sometimes buried to the thwart, sometimes striking at the bubbles of a wave top.

Davies, in the bows, said 'Pull!' or 'Steady!' at intervals. I heard the scud smacking against his oilskin back.

Then a wan, yellow light glanced over the waves. 'Easy! Let her come!' and the bowsprit of the Dulcibella,

swollen to spectral proportions, was stabbing the darkness above me. 'Back a bit! Two good strokes. Ship

your scull! Now jump!' I clawed at the tossing hull and landed in a heap. Davies followed with the painter,

'She's riding beautifully now,' said he, when he had secured the painter. 'There'll be no rolling on the flood,

I don't think I should have cared, however much she had rolled. I was finally cured of funk.

It was well that I was, for to be pitched out of your bunk on to wet oilcloth is a disheartening beginning to a

day. This happened about eight o'clock. The yacht was pitching violently, and I crawled on all fours into the

'I let you sleep on,' he said; 'we can't do anything till the water falls. We should never get the anchor up in this

sea. Come and have a look round. It's clearing now,' he went on, when we were crouching low on deck,

gripping cleats for safety. 'Wind's veered to nor'west. It's been blowing a full gale, and the sea is at its worst

I was prepared for what I sawthe stormy sea for leagues around, and a chaos of breakers where our

dreamisland had stoodand took it quietly, even with a sort of elation. The Dulcibella faced the storm as

doggedly as ever, plunging her bowsprit into the sea and flinging green water over her bows. A wave of

confidence and affection for her welled through me. I had been used to resent the weight and bulk of her

unwieldy anchor and cable, but I saw their use now; varnish, paint, spotless decks, and snowy sails were

'We must keep well inside the banks and be precious careful wherever there's a swell. It's rampant in here,

you see, in spite of the barrier of sand. But there's plenty we can do farther back.'

We breakfasted in horrible discomfort; then smoked and talked till the roar of the breakers dwindled. At the

first sign of bare sand we got under way, under mizzen and headsails only, and I learned how to sail a

reluctant anchor out of the ground. Pivoting round, we scudded east before the wind, over the ground we had

traversed the evening before, while an archipelago of new banks slowly shouldered up above the fast

weakening waves. We trod delicately among and around them, sounding and observing; heaving to where

space permitted, and sometimes using the dinghy. I began to see where the risks lay in this sort of navigation.

Wherever the ocean swell penetrated, or the wind blew straight down a long deep channel, we had to be very

cautious and leave good margins. 'That's the sort of place you mustn't ground on,' Davies used to say.

In the end we traversed the Steil Sand again, but by a different swatchway, and anchored, after an arduous

day, in a notch on its eastern limit, just clear of the swell that rolled in from the turbulent estuary of the Elbe.

The night was fair, and when the tide receded we lay perfectly still, the fresh wind only sending a liplip of

NOTHING happened during the next ten days to disturb us at our work. During every hour of daylight and

many of darkness, sailing or anchored, aground or afloat, in rain and shine, wind and calm, we studied the

bed of the estuaries, and practised ourselves in threading the network of channels; holding no communication

with the land and rarely approaching it. It was a life of toil, exposure, and peril; a struggle against odds, too;

for wild autumnal weather was the rule, with the wind backing and veering between the southwest and

northwest, and only for two placid days blowing gently from the east, the safe quarter for this region. Its

force and direction determined each fresh choice of ground. If it was high and northerly we explored the inner

fastnesses; in moderate intervals the exterior fringe, darting when surprised into whatever lair was most

Sometimes we were tramping vast solitudes of sand, sometimes scudding across ephemeral tracts of shallow

sea. Again, we were creeping gingerly round the deeper arteries that surround the Great Knecht, examining

their convolutions as it were the veins of a living tissue, and the circulation of the tide throbbing through

them like blood. Again, we would be staggering through the tiderips and overfalls that infest the open

fairway of the Weser on our passage between the Fork and the Pike. On one of our fine days I saw the scene

of Davies's original adventure by daylight with the banks dry and the channels manifest. The reader has seen

it on the chart, and can, up to a point, form his opinion; I can only add that I realized by ocular proof that no

more fatal trap could have been devised for an innocent stranger; for approaching it from the northwest

under the easiest conditions it was hard enough to verify our true course. In a period so full of new

excitements it is not easy for me to say when we were hardest put to it, especially as it was a rule with Davies

never to admit that we were in any danger at all. But I think that our ugliest experience was on the 10th.

when, owing to some minute miscalculation, we stranded in a dangerous spot. Mere stranding, of course, was

all in the day's work; the constantly recurring question being when and where to court or risk it. This time we

were so situated that when the rising tide came again we were on a lee shore, broadside on to a gale of wind

which was sending a nasty seawith a threemile drift to give it forcedown Robin's Balje, which is one

of the deeper arteries I spoke of above, and now lay dead to windward of us. The climax came about ten

o'clock at night. 'We can do nothing till she floats,' said Davies; and I can see him now quietly smoking and

splicing a chafed warp while he explained that her double skin of teak fitted her to stand anything in reason.

She certainly had a terrific test that night, for the bottom was hard, unyielding sand, on which she rose and

fell with convulsive vehemence. The last halfhour was for me one of almost intolerable tension. I spent it on

deck unable to bear the suspense below. Sheets of driven sea flew bodily over the hull, and a score of times I

thought she must succumb as she shivered to the blows of her keel on the sand. But those stout skins knit by

honest labour stood the trial. One final thud and she wrenched herself bodily free, found her anchor, and rode

On the whole I think we made few mistakes. Davies had a supreme aptitude for the work. Every hour,

sometimes every minute, brought its problem, and his resource never failed. The stiffer it was the cooler he

became. He had, too, that intuition which is independent of acquired skill, and is at the root of all genius;

which, to take cases analogous to his own, is the last quality of the perfect guide or scout. I believe he could

As for me, the sea has never been my element, and never will be; nevertheless, I hardened to the life, grew

salt, tough, and tolerably alert. As a soldier learns more in a week of war than in years of parades and

pipeclay, so, cut off from all distractions, moving from bivouac to precarious bivouac, and depending, to

some extent, for my life on my muscles and wits, I rapidly learnt my work and gained a certain dexterity. I

knew my ropes in the dark, could beat economically to windward through squalls, take bearings, and estimate

We were generally in solitude, but occasionally we met galliots like the Johannes tacking through the sands,

and once or twice we found a fleet of such boats anchored in a gut, waiting for water. Their draught, loaded,

was from six to seven feet, our own only four, without our centreplate, but we took their mean draught as

the standard of all our observations. That is, we set ourselves to ascertain when and how a vessel drawing six

A word more as to our motive. It was Davies's conviction, as I have said, that the whole region would in war

be an ideal huntingground for small freelance marauders, and I began to know he was right; for look at the

three searoads through the sands to Hamburg, Bremen, Wilhelmshaven, and the heart of commercial

Germany. They are like highways piercing a mountainous district by defiles, where a handful of desperate

Follow the parallel of a war on land. People your mountains with a daring and resourceful race, who possess

an intimate knowledge of every track and bridlepath, who operate in small bands, travel light, and move

rapidly. See what an immense advantage such guerillas possess over an enemy which clings to beaten tracks,

moves in large bodies, slowly, and does not 'know the country'. See how they can not only inflict disasters on

a foe who vastly overmatches them in strength, but can prolong a semipassive resistance long after all

decisive battles have been fought. See, too, how the strong invader can only conquer his elusive antagonists

by learning their methods, studying the country, and matching them in mobility and cunning. The parallel

must not be pressed too far; but that this sort of warfare will have its counterpart on the sea is a truth which

Davies in his enthusiasm set no limits to its importance. The small boat in shallow waters played a mighty

r�le in his vision of a naval war, a part that would grow in importance as the war developed and reach its

'The heavy battle fleets are all very well,' he used to say, 'but if the sides are well matched there might be

nothing left of them after a few months of war. They might destroy one another mutually, leaving as nominal

conqueror an admiral with scarcely a battleship to bless himself with. It's then that the true struggle will set

in; and it's then that anything that will float will be pressed into the service, and anybody who can steer a

boat, knows his waters, and doesn't care the toss of a coin for his life, will have magnificent opportunities. It

cuts both ways. What small boats can do in these waters is plain enough; but take our own case. Say we're

beaten on the high seas by a coalition. There's then a risk of starvation or invasion. It's all rot what they talk

about instant surrender. We can live on half rations, recuperate, and build; but we must have time. Meanwhile

our coast and ports are in danger, for the millions we sink in forts and mines won't carry us far. They're

fixedpure passive defence. What you want is boatsmosquitoes with stingsswarms of

thempatrolboats, scoutboats, torpedoboats; intelligent irregulars manned by local men, with a pretty

free hand to play their own game. And what a splendid game to play! There are places very like this over

therenothing half so good, but similarthe Mersey estuary, the Dee, the Severn, the Wash, and, best of

all, the Thames, with all the Kent, Essex, and Suffolk banks round it. But as for defending our coasts in the

way I meanwe've nothing readynothing whatsoever! We don't even build or use small torpedoboats.

These fast "destroyers" are no good for this worktoo long and unmanageable, and most of them too deep.

What you want is something strong and simple, of light draught, and with only a spartorpedo, if it came to

that. Tugs, launches, small yachtsanything would do at a pinch, for success would depend on intelligence,

not on brute force or complicated mechanism. They'd get wiped out often, but what matter? There'd be no

lack of the right sort of men for them if the thing was organized. But where are the men?

'Or, suppose we have the best of it on the high seas, and have to attack or blockade a coast like this, which is

sand from end to end. You can't improvise people who are at home in such waters. The navy chaps don't learn

it, though, by Jove! they're the most magnificent service in the worldin pluck, and nerve, and everything

else. They'll try anything, and often do the impossible. But their boats are deep, and they get little practice in

Davies never pushed home his argument here; but I know that it was the passionate wish of his heart,

somehow and somewhere, to get a chance of turning his knowledge of this coast to practical account in the

war that he felt was bound to come, to play that 'splendid game' in this, the most fascinating field for it.

I can do no more than sketch his views. Hearing them as I did, with the very splash of the surf and the bubble

of the tides in my ears, they made a profound impression on me, and gave me the very zeal for our work he,

But as the days passed and nothing occurred to disturb us, I felt more and more strongly that, as regards our

quest, we were on the wrong tack. We found nothing suspicious, nothing that suggested a really adequate

motive for Dollmann's treachery. 1 became impatient, and was for pushing on more quickly westward.

'It's something to do with these channels in the sand,' he persisted, 'but I'm afraid, as you say, we haven't got

at the heart of the mystery. Nobody seems to care a rap what we do. We haven't done the estuaries as well as

I should like, but we'd better push on to the islands. It's exactly the same sort of work, and just as important, I

There was also the question of time, for me at least. I was due to be back in London, unless I obtained an

extension, on the 28th, and our present rate of progress was slow. But I cannot conscientiously say that I

made a serious point of this. If there was any value in our enterprise at all, official duty pales beside it. The

machinery of State would not suffer from my absence; excuses would have to be made, and the results

All the time our sturdy little craft grew shabbier and more weatherworn, the varnish thinner, the decks

greyer, the sails dingier, and the cabin roof more murky where stovefumes stained it. But the only beauty

she ever possessed, that of perfect fitness for her functions, remained. With nothing to compare her to she

became a home to me. My joints adapted themselves to her crabbed limits, my tastes and habits to her plain

But oil and water were running low, and the time had come for us to be forced to land and renew our stock.

A LOW line of sandhills, pink and fawn in the setting sun, at one end of them a little white village huddled

round the base of a massive foursquare lighthousesuch was Wangeroog, the easternmost of the Frisian

Islands, as I saw it on the evening of 15th October. We had decided to make it our first landingplace; and

since it possesses no harbour, and is hedged by a mile of sand at low water, we had run in on the rising tide

till the yacht grounded, in order to save ourselves as much labour as possible in the carriage to and fro of the

heavy waterbreakers and oilcans which we had to replenish. In faint outline three miles to the south of us

was the flat plain of Friesland, broken only by some trees, a windmill or two, and a church spire. Between,

the shallow expanse of sea was already beginning to shrink away into lagoons, chief among which was the

narrow passage by which we had approached from the east. This continued its course west, directly parallel to

the island, and in it, at a distance of half a mile from us, three galliots lay at anchor.

Before supper was over the yacht was high and dry, and when we had eaten, Davies loaded himself with cans

and breakers. I was for taking my share, but he induced me to stay aboard; for I was dead tired after an

unusually long and trying day, which had begun at 2 a.m., when, using a precious instalment of east wind, we

had started on a complete passage of the sands from the Elbe to the Jade. It was a barely possible feat for a

boat of our low speed to perform in only two tides; and though we just succeeded, it was only by dint of

'Lay out the anchor when you've had a smoke,' said Davies, and keep an eye on the ridinglight; it's my only

He lowered himself, and I heard the scrunch of his seaboots as he disappeared in the darkness. It was a fine

starry night, with a touch of frost in the air. I lit a cigar, and stretched myself on a sofa close to the glow of

the stove. The cigar soon languished and dropped, and I dozed uneasily, for the ridinglight was on my mind.

I got up once and squinted at it through the halfraised skylight, saw it burning steadily, and lay down again.

The cabin lamp wanted oil and was dying down to a redhot wick, but I was too drowsy to attend to it, and it

went out. I lit my cigar stump again, and tried to keep awake by thinking. It was the first time I and Davies

had been separated for so long; yet so used had we grown to freedom from interference that this would not

have disturbed me in the least were it not for a sudden presentiment that on this first night of the second stage

of our labours something would happen. All at once I heard a sound outside, a splashing footstep as of a man

stepping in a puddle. I was wide awake in an instant, but never thought of shouting 'Is that you, Davies?' for I

knew in a flash that it was not he. It was the slip of a stealthy man. Presently I heard another footstepthe

pad of a boot on the sandthis time close to my ear, just outside the hull; then some more, fainter and farther

aft. I gently rose and peered aft through the skylight. A glimmer of light, reflected from below, was wavering

over the mizzenmast and bumpkin; it had nothing to do with the ridinglight, which hung on the forestay.

My prowler, I understood, had struck a match and was reading the name on the stern. How much farther

would his curiosity carry him? The match went out, and footsteps were audible again. Then a strong, guttural

voice called in German, 'Yacht ahoy!' I kept silence. 'Yacht ahoy!' a little louder this time. A pause, and then

a vibration of the hull as boots scraped on it and hands grasped the gunwale. My visitor was on deck. I

bobbed down, sat on the sofa, and I heard him moving along the deck, quickly and confidently, first forward

to the bows, where he stopped, then back to the companion amidships. Inside the cabin it was pitch dark, but

I heard his boots on the ladder, feeling for the steps. In another moment he would be in the doorway lighting

his second match. Surely it was darker than before? There had been a little glow from the ridinglamp

reflected on to the skylight, but it had disappeared. I looked up, realized, and made a fool of myself. In a few

seconds more I should have seen my visitor face to face, perhaps had an interview: but I was new to this sort

of work and lost my head. All I thought of was Davies's last words, and saw him astray on the sands, with no

light to guide him back, the tide rising, and a heavy load. I started up involuntarily, bumped against the table,

and set the stove jingling. A long step and a grab at the ladder, but just too late! I grasped something damp

and greasy, there was tugging and hard breathing, and I was left clasping a big seaboot, whose owner I

heard jump on to the sand and run. I scrambled out, vaulted overboard, and followed blindly by the sound. He

had doubled round the bows of the yacht, and I did the same, ducked under the bowsprit, forgetting the

bobstay, and fell violently on my head, with all the wind knocked out of me by a wire rope and block whose

strength and bulk was one of the glories of the Dulcibella. I struggled on as soon as I got some breath, but my

invisible quarry was far ahead. I pulled off my heavy boots, carried them, and ran in my stockings, promptly

cutting my foot on some cockleshells. Pursuit was hopeless, and a final stumble over a bit of driftwood sent

Limping back, I decided that I had made a very poor beginning as an active adventurer. I had gained nothing,

and lost a great deal of breath and skin, and did not even know for certain where I was. The yacht's light was

extinguished, and, even with Wangeroog Lighthouse to guide me, I found it no easy matter to find her. She

had no anchor out, if the tide rose. And how was Davies to find her? After much feeble circling I took to

lying flat at intervals in the hopes of seeing her silhouetted against the starry sky. This plan succeeded at last,

and with relief and humility I boarded her, relit the ridinglight, and carried off the kedge anchor. The

strange boot lay at the foot of the ladder, but it told no tales when I examined it. It was eleven o'clock, past

low water. Davies was cutting it fine if he was to get aboard without the dinghy's help. But eventually he

reappeared in the most prosaic way, exhausted with his heavy load, but full of talk about his visit ashore. He

'Look here, we ought to have settled more about what we're to say when we're asked questions. I chose a

quietlooking shop, but it turned out to be a sort of inn, where they were drinking pink ginall very

friendly, as usual, and I found myself under a fire of questions. I said we were on our way back to England.

There was the usual rot about the smallness of the boat, etc. It struck me that we should want some other

pretence for going so slow and stopping to explore, so I had to bring in the ducks, though goodness knows we

don't want to waste time over them. The subject wasn't quite a success. They said it was too earlyjealous, I

suppose; but then two fellows spoke up, and asked to be taken on to help. Said they would bring their punt;

without local help we should do no good. All true enough, no doubt, but what a nuisance they'd be. I got out

'It's just as well you did,' I interposed. 'We shall never be able to leave the boat by herself. I believe we're

'H'm! It's a pity you didn't see who it was. Confound that bobstay!' (his tactful way of reflecting on my

clumsiness); 'which way did he run?' I pointed vaguely into the west. 'Not towards the island? I wonder if it's

someone off one of those galliots. There are three anchored in the channel over there; you can see their lights.

'You've done jolly well, I think,' said Davies. 'If you had shouted when you first heard him we should know

less still. And we've got a boot, which may come in useful. Anchor out all right? Let's get below.'

We smoked and talked till the new flood, lapping softly round the Dulcibella, raised her without a jar.

Of course, I argued, there might be nothing in it. The visitor might have been a commonplace thief; an

apparently deserted yacht was a tempting bait. Davies scouted this possibility from the first.

'They're not like that in Germany,' he said. 'In Holland, if you like, they'll do anything. And I don't like that

Nor did I. In spite of my blundering in details, I welcomed the incident as the first concrete proof that the

object of our quest was no mare's nest. The next point was what was the visitor's object? If to search, what

'The charts, of course, with all our corrections and notes, and the log. They'd give us away,' was Davies's

instant conclusion. Not having his faith in the channel theory, I was lukewarm about his precious charts.

Still, as a true index to our mode of life they were the only things on board that could possibly compromise us

or suggest that we were anything more than eccentric young Englishmen cruising for sport (witness the duck

guns) and pleasure. We had two sets of charts, German and English. The former we decided to use in

practice, and to hide, together with the log, if occasion demanded. My diary, I resolved, should never leave

my person. Then there were the naval books. Davies scanned them with a look I knew well.

'There are too many of them,' he said, in the tone of a cook fixing the fate of superfluous kittens. 'Let's throw

'Well, not here!' I protested, for he was laying greedy hands on the shelf; 'they'll be found at low water. In

fact, I should leave them as they are. You had them when you were here before, and Dollmann knows you

The English charts, being relatively useless, though more suitable to our r�le as English yachtsmen, were to

be left in evidence, as shining proofs of our innocence. It was all delightfully casual, I could not help

thinking. A seventon yacht does not abound in (dry) hidingplaces, and we were helpless against a drastic

search. If there were secrets on this coast to guard, and we were suspected as spies, there was nothing to

prevent an official visit and warning. There need be no prowlers scuttling off when alarmed, unless indeed it

was thought wisest to let well alone, if we were harmless, and not to arouse suspicions where there were

none. Here we lost ourselves in conjecture. Whose agent was the prowler? If Dollmann's, did Dollmann know

now that the Dulcibella was safe, and back in the region he had expelled her from? If so, was he likely to

return to the policy of violence? We found ourselves both glancing at the duck guns strung up under the

racks, and then we both laughed and looked foolish. 'A war of wits, and not of duck guns,' I opined. 'Let's

The reader is already familiar with the general aspect of this singular region, and I need only remind him that

the mainland is that district of Prussia which is known as East Friesland. It is a short, flattopped peninsula,

bounded on the west by the Ems estuary and beyond that by Holland, and on the east by the Jade estuary; a

lowlying country, containing great tracts of marsh and heath, and few towns of any size; on the north side

none. Seven islands lie off the coast. All, except Borkum, which is round, are attenuated strips, slightly

crescentshaped, rarely more than a mile broad, and tapering at the ends; in length averaging about six miles,

from Norderney and Juist, which are seven and nine respectively, to little Baltrum, which is only two and a

Of the shoal spaces which lie between them and the mainland, twothirds dry at lowwater, and the

remaining third becomes a system of lagoons whose distribution is controlled by the natural drift of the North

Sea as it forces its way through the intervals between the islands. Each of these intervals resembles the bar of

a river, and is obstructed by dangerous banks, over which the sea pours at every tide scooping out a deep

pool. This fans out and ramifies to east and west as the pentup current frees itself, encircles the islands, and

spreads over the intervening flats. But the farther it penetrates the less coursing force it has, and as a result no

island is girt completely by a lowwater channel. About midway at the back of each of them is a 'watershed',

only covered for five or six hours out of the twelve. A boat, even of the lightest draught, navigating behind

the islands must choose its moment for passing these. As to navigability, the North Sea Pilot sums up the

matter in these dry terms: 'The channels dividing these islands from each other and the shore afford to the

small craft of the country the means of communication between the Ems and the Jade, to which description of

vessels only they are available.' The islands are dismissed with a brief note or two about beacons and lights.

The more I looked at the chart the more puzzled I became. The islands were evidently mere sandbanks. with a

cluster of houses and a church on each, the only hint of animation in their desolate ensemble being the

occasional word 'Badestrand', suggesting that they were visited in the summer months by a handful of

townsfolk for the seabathing. Norderney, of course, was conspicuous in this respect; but even its town,

which I know by repute as a gay and fashionable wateringplace, would be dead and empty for some months

in the year, and could have no commercial importance. No man could do anything on the mainland coasta

monotonous line of dyke punctuated at intervals by an infinitesimal village. Glancing idly at the names of

these villages, I noticed that they most of them ended in siela repulsive termination, that seemed

appropriate to the whole region. There were Carolinensiel, Bensersiel, etc. Siel means either a sewer or a

sluice, the latter probably in this case, for I noticed that each village stood at the outlet of a little stream which

evidently carried off the drainage of the lowlands behind. A sluice, or lock, would be necessary at the mouth,

for at high tide the land is below the level of the sea. Looking next at the sands outside, I noticed that across

them and towards each outlet a line of booms was marked, showing that there was some sort of tidal

'I don't see the use,' he answered; 'they only lead to those potty little places. I suppose local galliots use them.'

'They might, at certain tides. But I can't see what value they'd be, unless as a refuge for a German boat in the

last resort. They lead to no harbours. Wait! There's a little notch in the dyke at Neuharlingersiel and

Dornumersiel, which may mean some sort of a quay arrangement, but what's the use of that?'

'I suppose so; but we don't want to be playing round villages. There's heaps of really important work to do,

Davies had nothing but the same old theory, but he urged it with a force and keenness that impressed me

'Look at those islands!' he said. 'They're clearly the old line of coast, hammered into breaches by the sea. The

space behind them is like an immense tidal harbour, thirty miles by five, and they screen it impenetrably. It's

absolutely made for shallow warboats under skilled pilotage. They can nip in and out of the gaps, and dodge

about from end to end. On one side is the Ems, on the other the big estuaries. It's a perfect base for

'Yes; keeping a sharp lookout, though. Remember, we shall always be in sight of land now.'

'Higher than for a long time. I hope it won't bring fog. I know this district is famous for fogs, and fine weather

at this time of the year is bad for them anywhere. I would rather it blew, if it wasn't for exploring those gaps,

where an onshore wind would be nasty. Sixthirty tomorrow; not later. I think I'll sleep in the saloon for

THE decisive incidents of our cruise were now fast approaching. Looking back on the steps that led to them,

and anxious that the reader should be wholly with us in our point of view, I think I cannot do better than give

'16th Oct. (up at 6.30, yacht high and dry). Of the three galliots out at anchor in the channel yesterday, only

one is left ... I took my turn with the breakers this morning and walked to Wangeroog, whose village I found

half lost in sand drifts, which are planted with tufts of marramgrass in mathematical rows, to give stability

and prevent a catastrophe like that at Pompeii. A friendly grocer told me all there is to know, which is little.

The islands are what we thought thembarren for the most part, with a small fishing population, and a

scanty accession of summer visitors for bathing. The season is over now, and business slack for him. There is

still, however, a little trade with the mainland in galliots and lighters, a few of which come from the "siels" on

the mainland. "Had these harbours?" I asked. "Mudholes!" he replied, with a contemptuous laugh. (He is a

settler in these wilds, not a native.) Said he had heard of schemes for improving them, so as to develop the

'A heavy tramp back to the yacht, nearly crushed by impedimenta. While Davies made yet another trip, I

stalked some birds with a gun, and obtained what resembled a specimen of the smallest variety of jacksnipe,

and small at that; but I made a great noise, which I hope persuaded somebody of the purity of our motives.

'We weighed anchor at one o'clock, and in passing the anchored galliot took a good look at her. Kormoran

was on her stern; otherwise she was just like a hundred others. Nobody was on deck.

'We spent the whole afternoon till dark exploring the Harle, or gap between Wangeroog and Spiekeroog; the

sea breaking heavily on the banks outside ... Fine as the day was, the scene from the offing was desolate to

the last degree. The naked spots of the two islands are hideous in their sterility: melancholy bits of

wreckwood their only relief, save for one or two grotesque beacons, and, most bizarre of all, a great

churchtower, standing actually in the water, on the north side of Wangeroog, a striking witness to the

encroachment of the sea. On the mainland, which was barely visible, there was one very prominent landmark,

a spire, which from the chart we took to be that of Esens, a town four miles inland.

'The days are growing short. Sunset is soon after five, and an hour later it is too dark to see booms and buoys

(I exclude all the technicalities that I can, but the reader should take note that the tidetable is very important

'Highwater at morning and evening is between five and sixjust at twilight. For the night, we groped with

the lead into the Muschel Balge, the tributary channel which laps round the inside of Spiekeroog, and lay in

two fathoms, clear of the outer swell, but rolling a little when the ebb set in strong against the wind.

'A galliot passed us, going west, just as we were stowing sails; too dark to see her name. Later, we saw her

'The great event of the day has been the sighting of a small German gunboat, steaming slowly west along the

'Davies identified her at once as the Blitz, Commander von Br�ning's gunboat. We wondered if he recognized

the Dulcibella, but, anyway, she seemed to take no notice of us and steamed slowly on. We quite expected to

fall in with her when we came to the islands, but the actual sight of her has excited us a good deal. She is an

ugly, cranky little vessel, painted grey, with one funnel. Davis is contemptuous about her low freeboard

forward; says he would rather go to sea in the Dulce. He has her dimensions and armament (learnt from

Brassey) at his fingers' ends: one hundred and forty feet by twentyfive, one 4.9 gun, one 3.4, and four

'17th Oct.Glass falling heavily this morning, to our great disgust. Wind back in the SW and much warmer.

Starting at 5.30 we tacked on the tide over the "watershed" behind Spiekeroog. So did the galliot we had

seen last night, but we again missed identifying her, as she weighed anchor before we came up to her berth.

Davies, however, swore she was the Kormoran. We lost sight of her altogether for the greater part of the day,

which we spent in exploring the Otzumer Ee (the gap between Langeoog and Spiekeroog), now and then

firing some perfunctory shots at seals and seabirds... (nautical details omitted). . . In the evening we were

hurrying back to an inside anchorage, when we made a bad mistake; did, in fact, what we had never done

before, ran aground on the very top of high water, and are now sitting hard and fast on the edge of the Rute

Flat, south of the east spit of Langeoog. The light was bad, and a misplaced boom tricked us; kedgingoff

failed, and at 8 p.m. we were left on a perfect Ararat of sand, and only a yard or two from that accursed

boom, which is perched on the very summit, as a lure to the unwary. It is going to blow hard too, though that

is no great matter, as we are sheltered by banks on the sou'west and nor'west sides, the likely quarters. We

hope to float at 6.15 tomorrow morning, but to make sure of being able to get her off, we have been

transferring some ballast to the dinghy, by way of lightening the yachta horrid business handling the pigs

of lead, heavy, greasy, and black. The saloon is an inferno, the deck like a collier's, and ourselves like

'18th Oct.Half a gale from the sou'west when we turned out, but it helped us to float off safely at six. The

dinghy was very nearly swamped with the weight of lead in it, and getting the ballast back into the yacht was

the toughest job of all. We got the dinghy alongside, and Davies jumped in (nearly sinking it for good),

balanced himself, fended off, and, whenever he got a chance, attached the pigs one by one on to a bight of

rope, secured to the peak halyards, on which I hoisted from the deck. It was touch and go for a few minutes,

'It was nine before we had finished replacing the pigs in the hold, a filthy but delicate operation, as they fit

like a puzzle, and if one is out of place the floorboards won't shut down. Coming on deck after it, we saw to

our surprise the Blitz, lying at anchor in the Schill Balje, inside Spiekeroog, about a mile and a half off. She

must have entered the Otzumer Ee at highwater for shelter from the gale: a neat bit of work for a vessel of

her size, as Davies says she draws ninefootten, and there can't be more than twelve on the bar at

highwater neaps. Several smacks had run in too, and there were two galliots farther up our channel, but we

'When the banks uncovered we lay more quietly, so landed and took a long, tempestuous walk over the Rute,

with compass and notebooks. Returning at two, we found the glass tumbling down almost visibly.

'I suggested running for Bensersiel, one of the mainland villages southwest of us, on the evening flood, as it

seemed just the right opportunity, if we were to visit one of those "siels" at all. Davies was very lukewarm,

but events overcame him. At 3.30 a black, ragged cloud, appearing to trail into the very sea, brought up a

terrific squall. This passed, and there was a deathly pause of ten minutes while the whole sky eddied as with

smokewreaths. Then an icy puff struck us from the northwest, rapidly veering till it reached northeast;

'The shift to the east changed the whole situation (as shifts often have before), making the Rute Fiats a lee

shore, while to windward lay the deep lagoons of the Otzumer Ee, bounded indeed by Spiekeroog, but still

offering a big drift for wind and sea. We had to clear out sharp, to set the mizzen. It was out of the question to

beat to windward, for it was blowing a hurricane in a few minutes. We must go to leeward, and Davies was

for running farther in well behind the Jans sand, and not risking Bensersiel. A blunder of mine, when I went

to the winch to get up anchor, settled the question. Thirty out of our forty fathoms of chain were out.

Confused by the motion and a blinding sleetshower that had come on, and forgetting the tremendous strain

on the cable, I cast the slack off the bitts and left it loose. There was then only one turn of the chain round the

drum, enough in ordinary weather to prevent it running out. But now my first heave on the winchlever

started it slipping, and in an instant it was whizzing out of the hawsepipe and overboard. I tried to stop it

with my foot, stumbled at a heavy plunge of the yacht, heard something snap below, and saw the last of it

disappear. The yacht fell off the wind, and drifted astern. I shouted, and had the sense to hoist the reefed

foresail at once. Davies had her in hand in no time, and was steering southwest. Going aft I found him cool

'"Doesn't matter." he said; "anchor's buoyed. (Ever since leaving the Elbe we had had a buoyline on our

anchor against the emergency of having to slip our cable and run. For the same reason the end of the chain

'We'll come back tomorrow and get it. Can't now. Should have had to slip it anyhow; wind and sea too

'An exciting run it was, across country, so to speak, over an unboomed watershed; but we had bearings from

our morning's walk. Shoal water all the way and a hollow sea breaking everywhere. We soon made out the

Bensersiel booms, but even under mizzen and foresail only we travelled too fast, and had to heave to outside

them, for the channel looked too shallow still. We lowered half the centreboard and kept her just holding her

own to windward, through a most trying period. In the end had to run for it sooner than we meant, as we were

sagging to leeward in spite of all, and the light was failing. Bore up at 5.15, and raced up the channel with the

booms on our left scarcely visible in the surf and rising water. Davies stood forward, signallingport,

starboard, or steadywith his arms, while I wrestled with the helm, flung from side to side and flogged by

wavetops. Suddenly found a sort of dyke on our right just covering with sea. The shore appeared through

scud, and men on a quay shouting. Davies brandished his left arm furiously; I ported hard, and we were in

smoother water. A few seconds more and we were whizzing through a slit between two wood jetties. Inside a

small square harbour showed, but there was no room to round up properly and no time to lower sails. Davies

just threw the kedge over, and it just got a grip in time to check our momentum and save our bowsprit from

the quayside. A man threw us a rope and we brought up alongside, rather bewildered.

'Not more so than the natives, who seemed to think we had dropped from the sky. They were very friendly,

with an undercurrent of disappointment, having expected salvage work outside, I think. All showed

embarrassing helpfulness in stowing sails, etc. We were rescued by a fussy person in uniform and spectacles,

who swept them aside and announced himself as the customhouse officer (fancy such a thing in this absurd

mudhole!), marched down into the cabin, which was in a fearful mess and wringing wet, and producing ink,

pen, and a huge printed form, wanted to know our cargo, our crew, our last port, our destination, our food,

stores, and everything. No cargo (pleasure); captain, Davies; crew, me; last port, Brunsb�ttel; destination,

England. What spirits had we? Whisky, produced. What salt? Tin of Cerebos, produced, and a damp deposit

in a saucer. What coffee? etc. Lockers searched, guns fingered, bunks rifled. Meanwhile the German charts

and the log, the damning clues to our purpose, were in full evidence, crying for notice which they did not get.

(We had forgotten our precautions in the hurry of our start from the Rute.) When the huge form was as full as

he could make it, he suddenly became human, talkative, amid thirsty; and, when we treated him, patronizing.

It seemed to dawn on him that, under our rough clothes and crust of brine and grime, we were two mad and

wealthy aristocrats, worthy prot�g�s of a high official. He insisted on our bringing our cushions to dry at his

house, and to get rid of him we consented, for we were wet, hungry, and longing to change and wash. He

talked himself away at last, and we hid the log and charts; but he returned, in the postmaster's uniform this

time before we had finished supper, and haled us and our cushions up through dark and mud to his cottage

near the quay. To reach it we crossed a small bridge spanning what seemed to be a small river with

'He showed his prizes to his wife, who was quite flustered by the distinguished strangers, and received the

cushions with awe; and next we were carried off to the Gasthaus and exhibited to the village circle, where we

talked ducks and weather. (Nobody takes us seriously; I never felt less like a conspirator.) Our friend, who is

a featherheaded chatterbox, is enormously important about his ridiculous little port, whose principal

customer seems to be the Langeoog postboat, a galliot running to and fro according to tide. A few lighters

also come down the stream with bricks and produce from the interior, and are towed to the islands. The

harbour has from five to seven feet in it for two hours out of twelve! Herr Schenkel talked us back to the

yacht, which we found resting on the mudand here we are. Davies pretends there are harbour smells, and

says he won't be able to sleep; is already worrying about how to get away from here. Ashore, they were

saying that it's impossible, under sail, in strong northeast winds, the channel being too narrow to tack in. For

my part I find it a huge relief to be in any sort of harbour after a fortnight in the open. There are no tides or

I was awakened at ten o'clock on the 19th, after a long and delicious sleep, by Davies's voice outside, talking

his unmistakable German. Looking out, in my pyjamas, I saw him on the quay above in conversation with a

man in a long mackintosh coat and a goldlaced navy cap. He had a closetrimmed auburn beard, a keen,

They saw me, and Davies said: 'Hullo, Carruthers! Here's Commander von Br�ning from the Blitzthat's

The commander smiled broadly at me, and I inclined an uncombed head, while, for a moment, the quest was

a dream, and I myself felt unutterably squalid and foolish. I ducked down, heard them parting, and Davies

His news was that the Blitz's steamcutter had come in on the morning tide, and he had met von Br�ning

when marketing at the inn. Secondly, the Kormoran had also come in, and was moored close by. It was as

clear as possible, therefore, that the latter had watched us, and was in touch with the Blitz, and that both had

seized the opportunity of our being cooped up in Bensersiel to take further stock of us. What had passed

hitherto? Nothing much. Von Br�ning had greeted Davies with cordial surprise, and said he had wondered

yesterday if it was the Dulcibella that he had seen anchored behind Langeoog. Davies had explained that we

had left the Baltic and were on our way home; taking the shelter of the islands.

'Pull it out,' said Davies, 'It's rot, this hiding, after all. I say. I rather funk this interview; what are we to say?

We resolved abruptly on an important change of plan, replaced the log and charts in the rack as the first

logical step. They contained nothing but bearings, courses, and the bare data of navigation. To Davies they

were hardwon secrets of vital import, to be lied for, however hard and distasteful lying was. I was cooler as

to their value, but in any case the same thing was now in both our minds. There would be great difficulties in

the coming interview if we tried to be too clever and conceal the fact that we had been exploring. We did not

know how much von Br�ning knew. When had our surveillance by the Kormoran begun? Apparently at

Wangeroog, but possibly in the estuaries, where we had not tired a shot at duck. Perhaps he knew even

moreDollmann's treachery, Davies's escape, and our subsequent movementswe could not tell. On the

other hand, exploration was known to be a fad of Davies's, and in September he had made no secret of it.

It was safer to be consistent now. After breakfast we determined to find out something about the Kormoran,

which lay on the mud at the other side of the harbour, and accordingly addressed ourselves to two mighty

sailors, whose jerseys bore the legend 'Post', and who towered conspicuous among a row of stolid Frisians on

the quay, all gazing gravely down at us as at a curious bit of marine bric�brac. The twins (for such they

proved to be) were most benignant giants, and asked us aboard the postboat galliot for a chat. It was easy to

bring the talk naturally round to the point we wished, and we soon gained some most interesting information,

delivered in the broadest Frisian, but intelligible enough. They called the Kormoran a Memmert boat, or

'wreckworks' boat. It seemed that off the western end of Juist, the island lying west of Norderney, there lay

the bones of a French warvessel, wrecked ages ago. She carried bullion which has never been recovered, in

spite of many efforts. A salvage company was trying for it now, and had works on Memmert, an adjacent

sandbank. 'That is Herr Grimm, the overseer himself,' they said, pointing to the bridge above the

sluicegates. (I call him 'Grimm' because it describes him exactly.) A man in a pilot jacket and peaked cap

They answered that he was often up and down the coast, work on the wreck being impossible in rough

weather. They supposed he was bringing cargo in his galliot from Wilhelmshaven, all the company's plant

and stores coming from that port. He was a local man from Aurich; an extug skipper.

We discussed this information while walking out over the sands to see the channel at low water.

'Not a word. I didn't go to Juist. I would have, probably, if I hadn't met Dollmann.'

The channel was now a ditch, with a trickle in it, running north by east, roughly, and edged by a dyke of

withies for the first quarter of a mile. It was still blowing fresh from the northeast, and we saw that exit was

So back to the village, a paltry, bleak little place. We passed friend Grimm on the bridge; a dark,

'We haven't settled quite enough, have we?' said Davies. 'What about our future plans?'

'Heaven knows, we haven't,' I said. 'But I don't see how we can. We must see how things go. It's past twelve,

'All right, I'll do my best. All you've got to do is to be yourself and tell one lie, if need be, about the trick

The next scene: von Br�ning, Davies, and I, sitting over coffee and K�mmel at a table in a dingy innparlour

overlooking the harbour and the sea, Davies with a full box of matches on the table before him. The

commander gave us a hearty welcome, and I am bound to say I liked him at once, as Davies had done; but I

I had impressed on Davies to talk and question as freely and naturally as though nothing uncommon had

happened since he last saw von Br�ning on the deck of the Medusa. He must ask about Dollmannthe

mutual friendat the outset, and, if questioned about that voyage in his company to the Elbe, must lie like a

trooper as to the danger he had been in. This was the one clear and essential necessity, where much was

difficult. Davies did his duty with precipitation, and blushed when he put his question, in a way that horrified

me, till I remembered that his embarrassment was due, and would be ascribed, to another cause.

'Herr Dollmann is away still, I think,' said von Br�ning. (So Davies had been right at Brunsb�ttel.) 'Were you

'Well, I'm sure he's away. But his yacht is back, I believeand Fr�ulein Dollmann, I suppose.'

Our host smiled, gazing thoughtfully at Davies, who was miserable. I saw a chance, and took it mercilessly.

'We can call on Fr�ulein Dollmann, at least, Davies,' I said, with a meaning smile at von Br�ning.

The commander had begun to light a cigar, and took his time in answering. 'Probably,' he said, after some

puffing, 'he's never away very long. But you've seen them later than I have. Didn't you sail to the Elbe

'Oh, part of the way,' said Davies, with great negligence. 'I haven't seen him since. He got there first;

'Oh, I remember; there was a heavy blowa devil of a heavy blow. I thought of you that day. How did you

'Grosse Gott! In that.' He nodded towards the window whence the Dulcibella's taper mast could be seen

'Heaven forbid; I was only thinking that there must have been some sea round the Scharhorn that day; a tame

'Scharhorn?' said Davies, who did not catch the idiom in the latter sentence. 'Oh, we didn't go that way. We

'The Telte! In a northwest gale!' The commander started, ceased to smile, and only stared. (It was genuine

'Herr Dollmann knew the way,' said Davies, doggedly. 'He kindly offered to pilot me through, and I wouldn't

'Yes; there's a nasty surf there, though, isn't there? But it saves six milesand the Scharhorn. Not that I

'It didn't matter, because I was well inside then. Those sands are difficult at high water. We've come back that

'Is that where the Medusa gave you the slip?' asked von Br�ning, still studying Davies with a strange look,

'She wouldn't have noticed,' said Davies. 'It was very thick and squallyand she had got some way ahead.

There was no need for her to stop, anyway. I got off all right; the tide was rising still. But, of course, I

'I don't know; I didn't go that way.' The commander looked more and more puzzled.

'Not by the ship canal, I mean. I changed my mind about it, because the next day the wind was easterly. It

would have been a dead beat across the sands to Cuxhaven, while it was a fair wind straight out to the Eider

River. So I sailed there, and reached the Baltic that way. It was all the same.'

'Well done, Davies,' I thought. He had told his story well, using no subtlety. I knew it was exactly how he

would have told it to anyone else, if he had not had irrefutable proof of foul play.

'Another liqueur?' he said. Then, to me: 'Upon my word, your friend amuses me. It's impossible to make him

'That's nothing to him,' I said; 'he prefers it. He anchored me the other day behind the Hohenh�rn in a gale of

'I wonder he brought you here last night. It was a fair wind for England; and not very far.'

'Besides,' I said, 'we've left our anchor and chain out there.' And I made confession of my sin.

'Well, as it's buoyed, I should advise you to pick it up as soon as you can,' said von Br�ning, carelessly; 'or

'Yes, by Jove! Carruthers,' said Davies, eagerly, 'we must get out on this next tide.'

'Oh, there's no hurry,' I said, partly from policy, partly because the ease of the shore was on me. To sit on a

chair upright is something of a luxury, however good the cause in which you have crouched like a monkey

'They're honest enough about here, aren't they?' I added. While the words were on my lips I remembered the

midnight visitor at Wangeroog, and guessed that von Br�ning was leading up to a test. Grimm (if he was the

visitor) would have told him of his narrow escape from detection, and reticence on our part would show we

suspected something. I could have kicked myself, but it was not too late. I took the bull by the horns, and,

'By Jove! Davies, I forgot about that fellow at Wangeroog. The anchor might be stolen, as he says.'

'We never dreamed there would be thieves among these islands,' I said, 'but the other night I nearly caught a

I described the affair in detail, and with what humour I could. Our host was amused, and apologetic for the

'They're excellent folk,' he said, 'but they're born with predatory instincts. Their fathers made their living out

of wrecks on this coast, and the children inherit a weakness for plunder. When Wangeroog lighthouse was

built they petitioned the Government for compensation, in perfect good faith. The coast is well lighted now,

and windfalls are rare, but the sight of a stranded yacht, with the owners ashore, would inflame the old

The word 'wrecks' had set me tingling. Was it another test? Impossible to say; but audacity was safer than

'Isn't there the wreck of a treasureship somewhere farther west?' I asked. 'We heard of it at Wangeroog' (my

'Quite right,' said the commander, without a sign of embarrassment. 'I don't wonder you heard of it. It's one of

the few things folk have to talk about in these parts. It lies on Juister Riff, a shoal off Juist. She was a French

frigate, the Corinne, bound from Hamburg to Havre in 1811, when Napoleon held Hamburg as tight as Paris.

She carried a million and a half in gold bars, and was insured in Hamburg; foundered in four fathoms, broke

'No. The underwriters failed and went bankrupt, and the wreck came into the hands of your English Lloyd's.

It remained their property till '75, but they never got at the bullion. In fact, for fifty years it was never

scratched at, and its very position grew doubtful, for the sand swallowed every stick. The rights passed

through various hands, and in '86 were held by an enterprising Swedish company, which brought modern

appliances, dived, dredged, and dug, fished up a lot of timber and bric�brac, and then broke. Since then,

two Hamburg firms have tackled the job and lost their capital. Scores of lives have been spent over it, all told,

'Well, recently a small local company was formed. It has a depot at Memmert, and is working with a good

deal of perseverance. An engineer from Bremen was the principal mover, and a few men from Norderney and

Emden subscribed the capital. By the way, our friend Dollmann is largely interested in it.'

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Davies's telltale face growing troubled with inward questionings.

'We mustn't get back to him,' I said, laughing. 'It's not fair to my friend. But all this is very interesting. Will

'Ah! that's the point,' said von Br�ning, with a mysterious twinkle. 'It's an undertaking of immense difficulty;

for the wreck is wholly disintegrated, and the gold, being the heaviest part of it, has, of course, sunk the

deepest. Dredging is useless after a certain point; and the divers have to make excavations in the sand, and

shore them up as best they can. Every gale nullifies half their labour, and weather like this of the last fortnight

plays the mischief with the work. Only this morning I met the overseer, who happens to be ashore here. He

'Well, it's a romantic speculation,' I said. 'They deserve a return for their money.'

'I hope they'll get it,' said the commander. 'The fact is, I hold a few shares myself.'

'Oh, dear no; all the world knows what I've told you. But you'll understand that one has to be reticent as to

results in such a case. It's a big stake, and the title is none too sound. There has been litigation over it. Not

that I worry much about my investment; for I shan't lose much by it at the worst. But it gives one an interest

in this abominable coast. I go and see how they're getting on sometimes, when I'm down that way.'

'It is an abominable coast,' I agreed, heartily, 'though you won't get Davies to agree.'

'It's a magnificent place for sailing,' said Davies, looking wistfully out over the stormspeckled grey of the

North Sea. He underwent some more chaff, and the talk passed to our cruising adventures in the Baltic and

the estuaries. Von Br�ning crossexamined us with the most charming urbanity and skill. Nothing he asked

could cause us the slightest offence; and a responsive frankness was our only possible course. So, date after

date, and incident after incident, were elicited in the most natural way. As we talked I was astonished to find

how little there was that was worth concealing, and heartily thankful that we had decided on candour. My

fluency gave me the lead, and Davies followed me; but his own personality was really our tower of strength. I

realized that as I watched the play of his eager features, and heard him struggle for expression on his

favourite hobby; all his pet phrases translated crudely into the most excruciating German. He was convincing,

OCKQUOTE'I wish there were more in Germany; they play at yachting over hereon shore half the time,

drinking and loafing; paid crews, clean hands, white trousers; laid up in the middle of September.'

For my part, I made no pretence of being a Davies. Faithful to my lower nature, I vowed the Germans were

right, and, not without a secret zest, drew a lurid picture of the horrors of crewless cruising, and the drudgery

that my remorseless skipper inflicted on me. It was delightful to see Davies wincing when I described my

first night at Flensburg, for I had my revenge at last, and did not spare him. He bore up gallantly under my

jesting, but I knew very well by his manner that he had not forgiven me my banter about the 'charming

'Yes,' said I, thinking ahead. 'Civil Service,' was my prepared answer to the next question, but again

(morbidly, perhaps) I saw a pitfall. That letter from my chief awaiting me at Norderney? My name was

'The Foreign Office.' It sounded suspicious, but there it was. 'Indeedin the Government service? When do

That was how the question of our future intentions was raised, prematurely by me; for two conflicting

theories were clashing in my brain. But the contents of the letter dogged me now, and 'when at a loss, tell the

truth', was an axiom I was finding sound. So I answered, 'Pretty soon, in about a week. But I'm expecting a

letter at Norderney, which may give me an extension. Davies said it was a good address to give,' I added,

'Naturally,' said von Br�ning, dryly; the joke had apparently ceased to amuse him. 'But you haven't much

time then, have you?' he added, 'unless you leave your skipper in the lurch. It's a long way to England, and

'Oh, you don't understand,' I explained; 'he's in no hurry. He's a man of leisure; aren't you, Davies?'

'If I have to leave him I shan't be missedas an able seaman, at least. He'll just potter on down the islands,

'Or that. So, you see, we're in no hurry: and we never make plans. And as for a passage to England straight,

'I like this coast,' said Davies. 'Andwe want to shoot some ducks.' He was nervous, and forgot himself. I

had already satirized our sporting armament and exploits, and hoped the subject was disposed of. Ducks were

'As to wild fowl,' said our friend, 'I would like to give you gentlemen some advice. There are plenty to be got,

now that autumn weather has set in (you wouldn't have got a shot in September, Herr Davies; I remember

your asking about them when I saw you last). And even now it's early for amateurs. In hard winter weather a

child can pick them up; but they're wild still, and want crafty hunting. You want a local punt, and above all a

local man (you could stow him in your fo'c'sle), and to go to work seriously. Now, if you really wish for

'Oh, it's too good of you,' stammered Davies, in a more unhappy accent than usual. 'We can easily find one

'Oh, did he?' interrupted von Br�ning, laughing. 'I'm not surprised. You don't know the Frieslanders. They're

guileless, as I said, but they cling to their little perquisites.' (I translated to Davies.) 'They've been cheated out

of wrecks, and they're all the more sensitive about ducks, which are more lucrative than fish. A stranger is a

'You said they were odd in their manner, didn't you, Davies?' I put in. 'Look here, this is very kind of

Commander von Br�ning; but hadn't we better be certain of my plans before settling down to shoot? Let's

push on direct to Norderney and get that letter of mine, and then decide. But we shan't see you again, I

'Why not? I am cruising westwards, and shall probably call at Norderney. Come aboard if you're there, won't

'Well, gentlemen, I must take leave of you,' said our friend. 'I have to drive to Esens. I shall be going back to

It had been a puzzling interview, but the greatest puzzle was still to come. As we went towards the door, von

'One word in confidence with you, Herr Carruthers,' he said, speaking low. 'You won't think me officious, I

hope. I only speak out of keen regard for your friend. It is about the Dollmannsyou see how the land lies? I

'It's only a hint. He's a splendid young fellow, but if anythingyou understandtoo honest and simple. I

'I was not in earnest,' I said. 'I have never seen the Dollmanns; I thought they were friends of yours,' I added,

'Softly! Herr Carruthers. Remember, I speak out of pure friendliness to you as strangers, foreigners, and

young. You I take to have discretion, or I should not have said a word. Still, I will add this. We know very

little of Herr Dollmann, of his origin, his antecedents. He is half a Swede, I believe, certainly not a Prussian;

came to Norderney three years ago, appears to be rich, and has joined in various commercial undertakings.

Little scope about here? Oh, there is more enterprise than you thinkdevelopment of bathing resorts, you

know, speculation in land on these islands. Sharp practice? Oh, no! he's perfectly straight in that way. But

he's a queer fellow, of eccentric habits, andand, well, as I say, little is known of him. That's all, just a

'And look here,' he added, as we walked down the passage, 'if you take my advice, you'll omit that visit to the

'How much do you know, and what do you mean?' were the questions that throbbed in my thoughts; but I

'It just comes of going into places like this,' he said to me. 'We may be stuck here for days. Too much wind to

'Why didn't I think of it before?' he said. 'I'll tow you out in my launch. Be ready at 6.30; we shall have water

It was impossible to refuse, but a sense of being personally conducted again oppressed me; and the last hope

of a bed in the inn vanished. Davies was none too effusive either. A tug meant a pilot, and he had had enough

'Just like him!' laughed the other. 'That's settled, then!' A dogcart was standing before the inn door in

readiness for von Br�ning. I was curious about Esens and his business there. Esens, he said, was the principal

'I have to go there,' he volunteered, 'about a poaching casea Dutchman trawling inside our limits. That's my

'Do you ever catch an Englishman?' I asked, recklessly. 'Oh, very rarely; your countrymen don't come so far

'Not much of that to be got in Bensersiel,' I laughed. 'I'm afraid you'll have a dull afternoon. Look here. I

know you can't leave your boat altogether, and it's no use asking Herr Davies; but will you drive into Esens

with me and see a Frisian townfor what it's worth? You're getting a dismal impression of Friesland.' I

excused myself, said I would stop with Davies we would walk out over the sands and prospect for the

'Well, goodbye then,' he said, 'till the evening. Be ready for the warp at 6.30.'

He jumped up, and the cart rattled off through the mud, crossed the bridge, and disappeared into the dreary

'I don't think so,' said I. 'Let's go aboard before that customs fellow buttonholes us.'

A diminished row of stolid Frisians still ruminated over the Dulcibella. Friend Grimm was visible smoking

Davies pulled down the chart, said 'There,' and flung himself at full length on a sofa.

The reader can see Memmert for himself. South of Juist, abutting on the Ems delta, lies an extensive

sandbank called Nordland, whose extreme western rim remains uncovered at the highest tides; the effect

being to leave a Cshaped island, a mere paring of sand like a boomerang, nearly two miles long. but only

150 yards or so broad, of curiously symmetrical outline, except at one spot, where it bulges to the width of a

quarter of a mile. On the English chart its nakedness was absolute, save for a beacon at the south; but the

German chart marked a building at the point where the bulge occurs. This was evidently the depot. 'Fancy

living there!' I thought, for the very name struck cold. No wonder Grimm was grim; and no wonder he was

used to seek change of air. But the advantages of the site were obvious. It was remarkably isolated, even in a

region where isolation is the rule; yet it was conveniently near the wreck, which, as we had heard, lay two

miles out on the Juister Reef. Lastly, it was clearly accessible at any state of the tide, for the sixfathom

channel of the Ems estuary runs hard up to it on the south, and thence sends off an eastward branch which

closely borders the southern horn, thus offering an anchorage at once handy, deep, and sheltered from

Such was Memmert, as I saw it on the chart, taking in its features mechanically, for while Davies lay there

heedless and taciturn, a pretence of interest was useless. I knew perfectly well what was between us, but I did

not see why I should make the first move; for I had a grievance too, an old one. So I sat back on my sofa and

jotted down in my notebook the heads of our conversation at the inn while it was fresh in my memory, and

strove to draw conclusions. But the silence continuing and becoming absurd, I threw my pride to the winds,

'I say, Davies,' I said, 'I'm awfully sorry I chaffed you about Fr�ulein Dollmann.' (No answer.) 'Didn't you see

'I wish to Heaven we had never come in here,' he said, in a hard voice; 'it comes of landing ever.' (I couldn't

help smiling at this, but he wasn't looking at me.) 'Here we are, given away, moved on, taken in charge,

arranged for like Cook's tourists. I couldn't follow your gametoo infernally deep for me, but'That stung

'Look here,' I said, 'I did my best. It was you that muddled it. Why did you harp on ducks?'

'We could have got out of that. Why did you harp on everything idioticyour letter, the Foreign office, the

'You're utterly unreasonable. Didn't you see what traps there were? I was driven the way I went. We started

Davies drove on blindly. 'It was bad enough telling all about the channels and exploring'

'Oh, hang the wreck! It's all a blind, or he wouldn't have made so much of it. There are all these channels to

'Oh, hang the channels! I know we wanted a free hand, but we've got to go to Norderney some time, and if

We had worked round, through idle recrimination, to the real point of departure. I knew Davies was not

himself, and would not return to himself till the heart of the matter was reached.

'Look here,' I said, 'you brought me out here to help you, because, as you say, I was clever, talked German,

andliked yachting (I couldn't resist adding this). But directly you really want me you turn round and go for

'I know; but it's your own fault. You haven't been fair with me. There's a complication in this business that

you've never talked about. I've never pressed you because I thought you would confide in me. You'

'Well, you see the result. Our hand was forced. To have said nothing about Dollmann was follyto have said

he tried to wreck you was equal folly. The story we agreed on was the best and safest, and you told it

splendidly. But for two reasons I had to harp on the daughterone because your manner when they were

mentioned was so confused as to imperil our whole position. Two, because your story, though the safest, was,

at the best, suspicious. Even on your own showing Dollmann treated you badlydiscourteously, say: though

you pretended not to have seen it. You want a motive to neutralize that, and induce you to revisit him in a

friendly way. I supplied it, or rather I only encouraged von Br�ning to supply it.'

'But don't you see what a hideous fix you've put me in? How caddish I feel about it?'

I did see, and I felt a cad myself, as his full distress came home to me. But I felt, too, that, whosesoever the

fault, we had drifted into a ridiculous situation, and were like characters in one of those tiresome plays where

misunderstandings are manufactured and so carefully sustained that the audience are too bored to wait for the

'I'm very sorry,' I said, 'but I wish you had told me all about it. Won't you now? Just the bare, matteroffact

'I find it very difficult to tell people things,' said Davies, 'things like this.' I waited. 'I did like hervery

much.' Our eyes met for a second, in which all was said that need be said, as between two of our phlegmatic

race. 'And she'sseparate from him. That was the reason of all my indecisions.' he hurried on. 'I only told

you half at Schlei. I know I ought to have been open, and asked your advice. But I let it slide. I've been

hoping all along that we might find what we want and win the game without coming to close quarters again.'

I no longer wondered at his devotion to the channel theory, since, built on conviction, it was thus doubly

'Yet you always knew what might happen,' I said. 'At Schlei you spoke of "settling with" Dollmann.'

'Davies, we must have no more secrets. I'm going to speak out. Are you sure you've not misunderstood her?

'Well, traitor. Very good; but in that case I suspect his daughter. No! let me go on. She was useful, to say the

'Stop, Carruthers,' said Davies, firmly. 'I know you mean kindly; but it's no use. I believe in her.'

'In that case,' I said, 'I've something to propose. When we get out of this place let's sail straight away to

England.' '(There, Commander von Br�ning,' I thought, 'you never can say I neglected your advice.')

'No!' exclaimed Davies, starting up and facing me. 'I'm hanged if we will. Think what's at stake. Think of that

'Very good,' I said. 'I'm with you for going on. But let's face facts. We must scotch Dollmann. We can't do so

'Of course not; be sensible, man. Face that. Next point; it's absurd to hope that we need not revisit themit's

ten to one that we must, if we're to succeed. His attempt on you is the whole foundation of our suspicions.

And we don't even know for certain who he is yet. We're committed, I know, to going straight to Norderney

now; but even if we weren't, should we do any good by exploring and prying? It's very doubtful. We know

we're watched, if not suspected, and that disposes of ninetenths of our power. The channels? Yes, but is it

likely they'll let us learn them by heart, if they're of such vital importance, even if we are thought to be bona

fide yachtsmen? And, seriously, apart from their value in war, which I don't deny, are they at the root of this

business? But we'll talk about that in a moment. The point now is, what shall we do if we meet the

Beads of sweat stood on Davies's brow. I felt like a torturer, but it could not be helped. 'Tax him with having

wrecked you? Our quest would be at an end! We must be friendly. You must tell the story you told today,

and chance his believing it. If he does, so much the better; if he doesn't, he won't dare say so, and we still

have chances. We gain time, and have a tremendous hold on himif we're friendly.' Davies winced. I gave

another turn to the screw. 'Friendly with them both, of course. You were before, you know; you liked her

'Shall we chuck it and go to England?' 1 asked again, as an inquisitor might say, 'Have you had enough?' No

answer. I went on: 'To make it easier, you do like her still.' I had roused my victim at last.

'What the devil do you mean, Carruthers? That I'm to trade on my liking for heron her innocence,

'No, no, not that. I'm not such a cad, or such a fool, or so ignorant of you. If she knows nothing of her father's

character and likes youand you like herand you are what you areoh Heavens! man, face it, realize it!

But what I mean is this: is she, can she be, what you think? Imagine his position if we're right about him; the

vilest creature on God's eartha disgraceful past to have been driven to thisin the pay of Germany. I want

to spare you misery.' I was going to add: 'And if you're on your guard, to increase our chances.' But the utter

futility of such suggestions silenced me. What a plan I had foreshadowed! An enticing plan and a fair one,

too, as against such adversaries; turning this baffling crosscurrent to advantage as many a time we had

worked eddies of an adverse tide in these difficult seas. But Davies was Davies, and there was an end of it;

his faith and simplicity shamed me. And the pity of it, the cruelty of it, was that his very qualities were his

last torture, raising to the acutest pitch the conflict between love and patriotism. Remember that the latter was

his dominant lifemotive, and that here and now was his chanceif you would gauge the bitterness of that

It was in its last throes now. His elbows were on the table, and his twitching hands pressed on his forehead.

'I'll remember what you've said. There may be some way out. AndI'd rather not talk about that any more.

Further argument was futile. Davies by an effort seemed to sweep the subject from his thoughts, and I did my

best to do the same. At any rate the air was clearedwe were friends; and it only remained to grapple with

Every word that I could recollect of that critical conversation I reviewed with Davies, who had imperfectly

understood what he had not been directly concerned in; and, as I did so, I began to see with what cleverness

each succeeding sentence of von Br�ning's was designed to suit both of two contingencies. If we were

innocent travellers, he was the genial host, communicative and helpful. If we were spies, his tactics had been

equally applicable. He had outdone us in apparent candour, hiding nothing which he knew we would discover

for ourselves, and contriving at the same time both to gain knowledge and control of our movements, and to

convey us warnings, which would only be understood if we were guilty, that we were playing an idle and

perilous game, and had better desist. But in one respect we had had the advantage, and that was in the version

Davies had given of his stranding on the Hohenh�rn. Inscrutable as our questioner was, he let it appear not

only that the incident was new to him, but that he conjectured at its sinister significance. A little

crossexamination on detail would have been fatal to Davies's version; but that was where our strength lay;

he dared not crossexamine for fear of suggesting to Davies suspicions which he might never have felt.

Indeed, I thought I detected that fear underlying his whole attitude towards us, and it strengthened a

conviction which had been growing in me since Grimm's furtive midnight visit, that the secret of this coast

was of so important and delicate a nature that rather than attract attention to it at all, overt action against

intruders would be taken only in the last resort, and on irrefragable proofs of guilty intention.

Now for our clues. I had come away with two, each the germ of a distinct theory, and both obscured by the

prevailing ambiguity. Now, however, as we thumbed the chart and I gave full rein to my fancy, one of them,

the idea of Memmert, gained precision and vigour every moment. True, such information as we had about the

French wreck and his own connection with it was placed most readily at our disposal by von Br�ning; but I

took it to be information calculated only to forestall suspicion, since he was aware that we already associated

him with Dollmann, possibly also with Grimm, and it was only likely that in the ordinary course we should

learn that the trio were jointly concerned in Memmert. So much for the facts; as for the construction he

wished us to put on them, I felt sure it was absolutely false. He wished to give us the impression that the

buried treasure itself was at the root of any mystery we might have scented. I do not know if the reader fully

appreciated that astute suggestionthe hint that secrecy as to results was necessary owing both to the great

sum at stake and the flaw in the title, which he had been careful to inform us had passed through British

hands. What he meant to imply was, 'Don't be surprised if you have midnight visitors; Englishmen prowling

along this coast are suspected of being Lloyd's agents.' An ingenious insinuation, which, at the time it was

made, had caused me to contemplate a new and much more commonplace solution of our enigma than had

ever occurred to us; but it was only a passing doubt, and I dismissed it altogether now.

The fact was, it either explained everything or nothing. As long as we held to our fundamental

assumptionthat Davies had been decoyed into a deathtrap in Septemberit explained nothing. It was too

fantastic to suppose that the exigencies of a commercial speculation would lead to such extremities as that.

We were not in the South Sea Islands; nor were we the puppets of a romance. We were in Europe, dealing not

only with a Dollmann, but with an officer of the German Imperial Navy, who would scarcely be connected

with a commercial enterprise which could conceivably be reduced to forwarding its objects in such a fashion.

It was shocking enough to find him in relations with such a scoundrel at all, but it was explicable if the

motive were imperialnot so if it were financial. No; to accept the suggestion we must declare the whole

quest a mare's nest from beginning to end; the attempt on Davies a delusion of his own fancy, the whole

'Well,' I can hear the reader saying, 'why not? You, at any rate, were always a little sceptical.'

Granted; yet I can truthfully say I scarcely faltered for a moment. Much had happened since Schlei Fiord. I

had seen the mechanism of the deathtrap; I had lived with Davies for a stormy fortnight, every hour of

which had increased my reliance on his seamanship, and also, therefore, on his account of an event which

depended largely for its correct interpretation on a balanced nautical judgement. Finally, I had been

unconsciously realizing, and knew from his mouth today, that he had exercised and acted on that judgement

in the teeth of personal considerations, which his loyal nature made overwhelming in their force.

What, then, was the meaning of Memmert? At the outset it riveted my attention on the Ems estuary, whose

mouth it adjoins. We had always rather neglected the Ems in our calculations; with some excuse, too, for at

first sight its importance bears no proportion to that of the three greater estuaries. The latter bear vessels of

the largest tonnage and deepest draught to the very quays of Hamburg, Bremerhaven, and the naval dockyard

of Wilhelmshaven; while two of them, the Elbe and the Weser, arc commerce carriers on the vastest scale for

the whole empire. The Ems, on the other hand, only serves towns of the second class. A glance at the chart

explains this. You see a most imposing estuary on a grander scale than any of the other three taken singly,

with a length of thirty miles and a frontage on the North Sea of ten miles. or oneseventieth, roughly, of the

whole seaboard; encumbered by outlying shoals, and blocked in the centre by the island of Borkum, but

presenting two fine deepwater channels to the incoming vessel. These roll superbly through enormous

sheets of sand, unite and approach the mainland in one stately stream three miles in breadth. But then comes a

sad falling off. The navigable fairway shoals and shrinks, middle grounds obstruct it, and shelving foreshores

persistently deny it that easy access to the land that alone can create great seaboard cities. All the ports of the

Ems are tidal; the harbour of Delfzyl, on the Dutch side, dries at low water, and Emden, the principal German

But this depreciation is only relative. Judged on its merits, and not by the standard of the Elbe, it is a very

important river. Emden is a flourishing and growing port. For shallow craft the stream is navigable far into

the interior, where, aided by tributaries and allied canals (notably the connection with the Rhine at Dortmund,

then approaching completion), it taps the resources of a great area. Strategically there was still less reason for

underrating it. It is one of the great maritime gates of Germany; and it is the westernmost gate, the nearest to

Great Britain and France. contiguous to Holland. Its great forked delta presents two yawning breaches in that

singular rampart of islets and shoals which masks the German seaboarda seaboard itself so short in

proportion to the empire's bulk, that, as Davies used to say, every inch of it must be important'. Warships

could force these breaches, and so threaten the mainland at one of its few vulnerable points. Quay

accommodation is no object to such visitors; intricate navigation no deterrent. Even the heaviest battleships

could approach within striking distance of the land, while cruisers and military transports could penetrate to

the level of Emden itself. Emden, as Davies had often pointed out, is connected by canal with Wilhelmshaven

on the Jade, a strategic canal, designed to carry gunboats as well as merchandise.

Now Memmert was part of the outer rampart; its tapering sickle of sand directly commanded the eastern

breach; it must be connected with the defence of this breach. No more admirable base could be imagined;

selfcontained and isolated, yet sheltered, accessiblebetter than Juist and Borkum. And supposing it were

desired to shroud the nature of the work in absolute secrecy, what a pretext lay to hand in the wreck and its

On Memmert was the depot for the salvage operations. Salvage work, with its dredging and diving, offered

precisely the disguise that was needed. It was submarine, and so are some of the most important defences of

ports, mines, and dirigible torpedoes. All the details of the story were suggestive: the 'small local company';

the 'engineer from Bremen' (who, I wondered, was he?); the few shares held by von Br�ning, enough to

explain his visits; the stores and gear coming from Wilhelmshaven, a naval dockyard.

Try as I would I could not stir Davies's imagination as mine was stirred. He was bent on only seeing the

objections, which, of course, were numerous enough. Could secrecy be ensured under pretext of salving a

wreck? It must be a secret shared by manydivers, crews of tugs, employees of all sorts. I answered that

trade secrets are often preserved under no less difficult conditions, and why not imperial secrets?

'Perhaps,' I replied, 'the Elbe, too, holds similar mysteries.' Neuerk Island might, for all we knew, be another

Memmert; when cruising in that region we had had no eyes for such things, absorbed in a preconceived

theory of our own. Besides, we must not take ourselves too seriously. We were amateurs, not experts in coast

defence, and on such vague grounds to fastidiously reject a clue which went so far as this one was to quarrel

with our luck. There was a disheartening corollary to this latter argument that in my newborn zeal I shut my

eyes to. As amateurs, were we capable of using our clue and gaining exact knowledge of the defences in

question? Davies, I knew, felt this strongly, and I think it accounted for his lukewarm view of Memmert more

than he was aware. He clung more obstinately than ever to his 'channel theory', conscious that it offered the

one sort of opportunity of which with his peculiar gifts he was able to take advantage. He admitted, however,

that it was under a cloud at present, for if knowledge of the coastwise navigation were a crime in itself we

should scarcely be sitting here now. 'It's something to do with it, anyhow!' he persisted.

MEMMERT gripped me, then, to the exclusion of a rival notion which had given me no little perplexity

during the conversation with von Br�ning. His reiterated advice that we should lose no time in picking up our

anchor and chain had ended by giving me the idea that he was anxious to get us away from Bensersiel and the

mainland. At first I had taken the advice partly as a test of our veracity (as I gave the reader to understand),

and partly as an indirect method of lulling any suspicions which Grimm's midnight visit may have caused.

Then it struck me that this might be oversubtlety on my part, and the idea recurred when the question of our

future plans cropped up, and hampered me in deciding on a course. It returned again when von Br�ning

offered to tow us out in the evening. It was in my mind when I questioned him as to his business ashore, for it

occurred to me that perhaps his landing here was not solely due to a wish to inspect the crew of the

Dulcibella. Then came his perfectly frank explanation (with its sinister double entente for us), coupled with

an invitation to me to accompany him to Esens. But, on the principle of 'tinieo Danaos' etc., I instantly smelt

a ruse, not that I dreamt that I was to be decoyed into captivity; but if there was anything here which we two

might discover in the few hours left to us, it was an ingenious plan to remove the most observant of the two

Davies scorned them, and I had felt only a faint curiosity in these insignificant hamlets, influenced, I am

afraid, chiefly by a hankering after terra firma which the pitiless rigour of his training had been unable to

But it was imprudent to neglect the slightest chance. It was three o'clock, and I think both our brains were

beginning to be addled with thinking in close confinement. I suggested that we should finish our council of

war in the open, and we both donned oilskins and turned out. The sky had hardened and banked into an even

canopy of lead, and the wind drove before it a fine cold rain. You could hear the murmur of the rising flood

on the sands outside, but the harbour was high above it still, and the Dulcibella and the other boats squatted

low in a bed of black slime. Native interest seemed to be at last assuaged, for not a soul was visible on the

bank (I cannot call it a quay); but the top of a black sou'wester with a feather of smoke curling round it

From the bank we could see all along the coastline, which is dyked continuously, as I have already said. The

dyke was here a substantial brickfaced embankment, very similar, though on a smaller scale, to that which

had bordered the Elbe near Cuxhaven, and over whose summit we had seen the snouts of guns.

'I say, Davies,' I said, 'do you think this coast could be invaded? Along here, I mean, behind these islands?'

Davies shook his head. 'I've thought of that,' he said. 'There's nothing in it. It's just the very last place on earth

where a landing would be possible. No transport could get nearer than where the Blitz is lying, four miles

My mushroom theory died directly I set foot on it. It was the most innocent structure in the worldlike a

thousand others in Essex and Hollandtopped by a narrow path, where we walked in single file with arms

akimbo to keep our balance in the gusts of wind. Below us lay the sands on one side and rank fens on the

other, interspersed with squares of pasture ringed in with ditches. After half a mile we dropped down and

came back by a short circuit inland, following a mazy pathwhich was mostly right angles and minute plank

bridges, till we came to the Esens road. We crossed this and soon after found our way barred by the stream I

spoke of. This involved a d�tour to the bridge in the village, and a stealthy avoidance of the postoffice, for

dread of its garrulous occupant. Then we followed the dyke in the other direction, and ended by a circuit over

As we walked we had tackled the last question, 'What are we to do?' and found very little to say on it. We

were to leave tonight (unless the Esens police appeared on the scene), and were committed to sailing direct

to Norderney, as the only alternative to duck shooting under the espionage of a 'trustworthy' nominee of von

At Norderney I should be fettered by my letter. If it seemed to have been opened and it ordered my return, I

was limited to a week, or must risk suspicion by staying. Dollmann was away (according to von Br�ning),

'would probably be back soon'; but how soon? Beyond Norderney lay Memmert. How to probe its secret?

The ardour it had roused in me was giving way to a mortifying sense of impotence. The sight of the

Kormoran, with her crew preparing for sea, was a pointed comment on my diplomacy, and most of all on my

ridiculous survey of the dykes. When all was said and done we were prot�g�s of von Br�ning, and dogged by

The tide was swirling into the harbour in whorls of chocolate froth, and as it rose all Bensersiel, dominated as

before by Herr Schenkel, straggled down to the quay to watch the movements of shipping during the transient

but momentous hour when the mudhole was a seaport. The captain's steamcutter was already afloat, and

her sailors busy with sidelights and engines. When it became known that we, too, were to sail, and under such

Again our friend of the customs was spreading out papers to sign, while a throng of helpful Frisians, headed

by the twin giants of the postboat, thronged our decks and made us ready for sea in their own confused

fashion. Again we were carried up to the inn and overwhelmed with advice, and warnings, and farewell

toasts. Then back again to find the Dulcibella afloat, and von Br�ning just arrived, cursing the weather and

'Stow that mainsail, you won't want it,' he said. 'I'll tow you right out to Spiekeroog. It's your only anchorage

for the night in this windunder the island, near the Blitz, and that would mean a dead beat for you in the

The fact was so true, and the offer so timely, that Davies's faint protests were swept aside in a torrent of

'And now I think of it,' the commander ended, 'I'll make the trip with you, if I may. It'll be pleasanter and

We all three boarded the Dulcibella, and then the end came. Our towrope was attached, and at halfpast six

the little launch jumped into the collar, and amidst a demonstration that could not have been more hearty if

we had been ambassadors on a visit to a friendly power, we sidled out through the jetties.

It took us more than an hour to cover the five miles to Spiekeroog, for the Dulcibella was a heavy load in the

stiff head wind, and Davies, though he said nothing, showed undisguised distrust of our tug's capacities. He at

once left the helm to me and flung himself on the gear, not resting till every rope was ready to hand, the

mainsail reefed, the binnacle lighted, and all ready for setting sail or anchoring at a moment's notice. Our

guest watched these precautions with infinite amusement. He was in the highest and most mischievous

humour, raining banter on Davies and mock sympathy on me, laughing at our huge compass, heaving the lead

himself, startling us with imaginary soundings, and doubting if his men were sober. I offered entertainment

and warmth below, but he declined on the ground that Davies would be tempted to cut the towrope and

make us pass the night on a safe sandbank. Davies took the raillery unmoved. His work done, he took the

tiller and sat bareheaded, intent on the launch, the course, the details, and chances of the present. I brought up

cigars and we settled ourselves facing him, our backs to the wind and spray. And so we made the rest of the

passage, von Br�ning cuddled against me and the cabinhatch, alternately shouting a jest to Davies and

talking to me in a light and charming vein, with just that shade of patronage that the disparity in our ages

warranted, about my time in Germany, places, people, and books I knew, and about life, especially young

men's life, in England, a country he had never visited, but hoped to; I responding as well as I could, striving

to meet his mood, acquit myself like a man, draw zest instead of humiliation from the irony of our position,

but scarcely able to make headway against a numbing sense of defeat and incapacity. A queer thought was

haunting me, too, that such skill and judgement as I possessed was slipping from me as we left the land and

faced again the rigours of this exacting sea. Davies, I very well knew, was under exactly the opposite

spella spell which even the reproach of the towrope could not annul. His face, in the glow of the binnacle,

was beginning to wear that same look of contentment and resolve that I had seen on it that night we had

sailed to Kiel from Schlei Fiord. Heaven knows he had more cause for worry than Ia casual comrade in an

adventure which was peculiarly his, which meant everything on earth to him; but there he was, washing away

perplexity in the salt wind, drawing counsel and confidence from the unfailing source of all his

'Looks happy, doesn't he?' said the captain once. I grunted that he did, ashamed to find how irritated the

The hull of the Blitz loomed up, and a minute later our kedge was splashing overboard and the launch was

'Goodnight, gentlemen,' said our passenger. 'You're safe enough here, and you can run across in ten minutes

in the morning and pick up your anchor, if it's there still. Then you've a fair wind westto England if you

like. If you decide to stay a little longer in these parts, and I'm in reach, count on me to help you, to sport or

The narrow vigilant life began again at once. We were 'safe enough' in a sense, but a warp and a

twentypound anchor were poor security if the wind backed or increased. Plans for contingencies had to be

made, and deckwatches kept till midnight, when the weather seemed to improve, and stars appeared. The

glass was rising, so we turned in and slept under the very wing, so to speak, of the Imperial Government.

'Davies,' I said, when we were settled in our bunks, 'it's only a day's sail to Norderney, isn't it?'

IT was a cold, vaporous dawn, the glass rising, and the wind fallen to a light air still from the northeast. Our

creased and sodden sails scarcely answered to it as we crept across the oily swell to Langeoog. 'Fogs and

calms,' Davies prophesied. The Blitz was astir when we passed her, and soon after steamed out to sea. Once

over the bar, she turned westward and was lost to view in the haze. I should be sorry to have to explain how

we found that tiny anchorbuoy, on the expressionless waste of grey. I only know that I hove the lead

incessantly while Davies conned, till at last he was grabbing overside with the boathook, and there was the

buoy on deck. The cable was soon following it, and finally the rusty monster himself, more loathsome than

'Yes, I suppose we have. I was wondering whether it wouldn't be shortest to go inside the Langeoog after all.'

'Surely not,' I urged. 'The tide's ebbing now, and the light's bad; it's new ground, with a "watershed" to cross,

'All rightoutside. Ready about.' We swung lazily round and headed for the open sea. I record the fact, but

in truth Davies might have taken me where he liked, for no land was visible, only a couple of ghostly booms.

'It seems a pity to miss over that channel,' said Davies with a sigh; 'just when the Kormoran can't watch us.'

I set myself to the lead again, averse to reopening a barren argument. Grimm had done his work for the

present, I felt certain, and was on his way by the shortest road to Norderney and Memmert.

We were soon outside and heading west, our boom squared away and the island sanddunes just apparent

under our lee. Then the breeze died to the merest draught, and left us rolling inert in a long swell. Consumed

with impatience to get on I saw fatality in this failure of wind, after a fortnight of unprofitable meanderings,

when we had generally had too much of it, and always enough for our purpose. I tried to read below, but the

'Can't we go any faster?' I burst out once. I felt that there ought to be a pyramid of gauzy canvas aloft,

'I don't go in for speed,' said Davies, shortly. He loyally did his best to 'shove her' along, but puffs and calms

were the rule all day, and it was only by towing in the dinghy for two hours in the afternoon that we covered

the length of Langeoog, and crept before dark to an anchorage behind Baltrum, its slugshaped neighbour on

the west. Strictly, I believe, we should have kept the sea all night; but I had not the grit to suggest that course,

and Davies was only too glad of an excuse for threading the shoals of the Accumer Ee on a rising tide. The

atmosphere had been slowly clearing as the day wore on; but we had scarcely anchored ten minutes before a

blanket of white fog, rolling in from seaward, swallowed us up. Davies was already afield in the dinghy, and I

had to guide him back with a foghorn, whose music roused hosts of sea birds from the surrounding flats, and

brought them wheeling and complaining round us, a weird invisible chorus to my mournful solo.

The fog hung heavy still at daybreak on the 20th, but dispersed partially under a catspaw from the south

about eight o'clock, in time for us to traverse the boomed channel behind Baltrum, before the tide left the

'We shan't get far today,' said Davies, with philosophy. 'And this sort of thing may go on for any time. It's a

regular autumn anticycloneglass thirty point five and steady. That gale was the last of a stormy equinox.'

We took the inside route as a matter of course today. It was now the shortest to Norderney harbour, and

scarcely less intricate than the Wichter Ee, which appeared to be almost totally blocked by banks, and is, in

fact, the most impassable of all these outlets to the North Sea. But, as I say, this sort of navigation, always

puzzling to me, was utterly bewildering in hazy weather. Any attempt at orientation made me giddy. So I

slaved at the lead, varying my labour with a fierce bout of kedgework when we grounded somewhere. I had

two rests before two o'clock, one of an hour, when we ran into a patch of windless fog; another of a few

moments, when Davies said, 'There's Norderney!' and I saw, surmounting a long slope of weedy sand, still

wet with the receding sea, a cluster of sandhills exactly like a hundred others I had seen of late, but fraught

The usual formula, 'What have you got now?' checked my reverie, and 'Helm's alee,' ended it for the time.

'Do you mean that galliot?' I asked. I could plainly distinguish one of those familiar craft about half a mile

'The Kormoran, do you think?' I added. Davies said nothing, but grew inattentive to his work. 'Barely four,'

from me passed unnoticed, and we touched once, but swung off under some play of the current. Then came

abruptly, 'Stand by the anchor. Let go,' and we brought up in midstream of the narrow creek we were

following. I triced up the maintack, and stowed the headsails unaided. When I had done Davies was still

gazing to windward through his binoculars, and, to my astonishment, I noticed that his hands were trembling

violently. I had never seen this happen before, even at moments when a false turn of the wrist meant death on

'That little boat,' he said. I gazed to windward, too, and now saw a scrap of white in the distance, in sharp

'Small standing lug and jib; it's her, right enough,' said Davies to himself, in a sort of nervous stammer.

Through the glasses the white scrap became a graceful little sail, squared away for the light following breeze.

An angle of the creek hid the hull, then it glided into view. Someone was sitting aft steering, man or woman I

could not say, for the sail hid most of the figure. For full two minutestwo long, pregnant minuteswe

watched it in silence. The damp air was fogging the lenses, but I kept them to my eyes; for I did not want to

look at Davies. At last I heard him draw a deep breath, straighten himself up, and give one of his

characteristic 'h'ms'. Then he turned briskly aft, cast off the dinghy's painter, and pulled her up alongside.

'You come too,' he said, jumping in, and fixing the rowlocks. (His hands were steady again.) I laughed, and

'I'd rather stay. I'll tidy up, and put the kettle on.' Davies had taken a half stroke, but paused.

'She might like to,' I suggested. 'Chilly day, long way from home, common courtesy,

'Carruthers,' said Davies, 'if she comes aboard, please remember that she's outside this business. There are no

A little lecture which would have nettled me more if I had not been exultantly telling myself that, once and

He sculled away with vigorous strokes. 'Just as he is,' I thought to myself: bare head, beaded with fogdew,

ancient oilskin coat (only one button); grey jersey; grey woollen trousers (like a deepsea fisherman's)

stuffed into long boots. A vision of his antitype, the Cowes Philanderer, crossed me for a second. As to his

facewell, I could only judge by it, and marvel, that he was gripping his dilemma by either horn, as firmly

I watched the two boats converging. They would meet in the natural course about three hundred yards away,

but a hitch occurred. First, the sailboat checked and slewed; 'aground,' I concluded. The rowboat leapt

forward still; then checked, too. From both a great splashing of sculls floated across the still air, then silence.

The summit of the watershed, a physical Rubicon, prosaic and slimy, had still to be crossed, it seemed. But it

could be evaded. Both boats headed for the northern side of the creek: two figures were out on the brink,

hauling on two painters. Then Davies was striding over the sand, and a girlI could see her nowwas

Nothing on earth could have made the Dulcibella's saloon a worthy receptionroom for a lady. I could only

use hurried efforts to make it look its best by plying a bunch of cottonwaste and a floorbrush; by pitching

into racks and lockers the litter of pipes, charts, oddments of apparel, and so on, that had a way of collecting

afresh, however recently we had tidied up; by neatly arranging our demoralized library, and by lighting the

I suppose about twenty minutes had elapsed, and I was scrubbing fruitlessly at the smoky patch on the

ceiling, when I heard the sound of oars and voices outside. I threw the cottonwaste into the fo'c'sle, made an

onslaught on my hands, and then mounted the companion ladder. Our own dinghy was just rounding up

alongside, Davies sculling in the bows, facing him in the stern a young girl in a grey tamo'shanter, loose

waterproof jacket and dark serge skirt, the latter, to be frigidly accurate, disclosing a pair of workmanlike

rubber boots which, mutatis mutandis, were very like those Davies was wearing. Her hair, like his, was

spangled with moisture. and her rosebrown skin struck a note of delicious colour against the sullen Stygian

'There he is,' said Davies. Never did his 'meiner Freund, Carruthers,' sound so pleasantly in my ears; never so

discordantly the 'Fr�ulein Dollmann' that followed it. Every syllable of the four was a lie. Two honest English

eyes were looking up into mine; an honest English handis this insular nonsense? Perhaps so, but I stick to

ita brown, firm handno, not so very small, my sentimental readerwas clasping mine. Of course I had

strong reasons, apart from the racial instinct, for thinking her to be English, but I believe that if I had had

none at all I should at any rate have congratulated Germany on a clever bit of plagiarism. By her voice, when

she spoke, I knew that she must have talked German habitually from childhood; diction and accent were

faultless, at least to my English ear; but the native constitutional ring was wanting.

She came on board. There was a hollow discussion first about time and weather, but it ended as we all in our

hearts wished it to end. None of us uttered our real scruples. Mine, indeed, were too new and rudimentary to

be worth uttering, so I said commonsense things about tea and warmth; but I began to think about my

I held out my hand and swung her up. She gazed round the deck and rigging with profound interesta

This struck me in passing as odd; but then I had only too few details from Davies about his days at Norderney

'Of course, that is what puzzled me,' she exclaimed, suddenly, pointing to the mizzen. 'I knew there was

Davies had belayed the painter, and now had to explain the origin of the mizzen. This was a cumbrous

process, and his hearer's attention soon wandered from the subject and became centred in himhis was

already more than half in herand the result was a golden opportunity for the discerning onlooker. It was

very brief, but I made the most of it; buried deep a few regrets, did a little heartfelt penance, told myself I had

been a cynical fool not to have foreseen this, and faced the new situation with a sinking heart; I am not

ashamed to admit that, for I was fond of Davies, and I was keen about the quest.

She had never been a guilty agent in that attempt on Davies. Had she been an unconscious tool or only an

unwilling one? If the latter, did she know the secret we were seeking? In the last degree unlikely, I decided.

But, true to the compact, whose importance I now fully appreciated, I flung aside my diplomatic weapons,

recoiling, as strongly, or nearly as strongly, let us say, from any effort direct or indirect to gain information

from such a source. It was not our fault if by her own conversation and behaviour she gave us some idea of

We spent a few minutes on deck while she asked eager questions about our build and gear and seaworthiness,

'Oh, it was quite safe,' was the reply. 'But it's much better to have a friend.'

'Father said you would be safe,' she remarked, with decisiona slight excess of decision, I thought. And at

that turned to some rope or block and pursued her questioning. She found the compass impressive, and the

trappings of that hateful centreboard had a peculiar fascination for her. Was this the way we did it in

Yet, in spite of a superficial freedom, we were all shy and constrained. The descent below was a welcome

diversion, for we should have been less than human if we had not extracted some spontaneous fun from the

humours of the saloon. I went down first to see about the tea, leaving them struggling for mutual

comprehension over the theory of an English lifeboat. They soon followed, and I can see her now stooping in

at the doorway, treading delicately, like a kitten, past the obstructive centreboard to a place on the starboard

sofa, then taking in her surroundings with a timid rapture that broke into delight at all the primitive

arrangements and dingy amenities of our den. She explored the cavernous recesses of the Rippingille,

fingered the duckguns and the miscellany in the racks, and peeped into the fo'c'sle with dainty awe.

Everything was a source of merriment, from our cramped attitudes to the painful deficiency of spoons and the

'yachtiness' (there is no other word to describe it) of the bread, which had been bought at Bensersiel, and had

suffered from incarceration and the climate. This fact came out, and led to some questions, while we waited

for the water to boil, about the gale and our visit there. The topic, a pregnant one for us, appeared to have no

special significance to her. At the mention of von Br�ning she showed no emotion of any sort; on the

contrary, she went out of her way, from an innocent motive that anyone could have guessed, to show that she

'He came to see us when you were here last, didn't he?' she said to Davies. 'He often comes. He goes with

father to Memmert sometimes. You know about Memmert? They are diving for money out of an old wreck.'

'Of course you have. Father is a director of the company, and Commander von Br�ning takes great interest in

I murmured, 'Indeed!' and Davies sawed laboriously at the bread. She must have misconstrued our sheepish

silence, for she stopped and drew herself up with just a touch of momentary hauteur, utterly lost on Davies. I

'Did you see any gold?' said Davies at last, with husky solemnity. Something had to be said or we should

'You mustn't betray the company's secrets,' I said, laughing; 'Commander von Br�ning wouldn't tell us a word

'Oh, I don't think it matters much,' she answered, laughing too. 'You are only visitors.'

I looked to Davies; it was his affair. Fair and square came his answer, in blunt dogGerman.

Up to this moment I had been doubtful of his final decision; for ever since our explanation at Bensersiel I had

had the feeling that I was holding his nose to a very cruel grindstone. This straight word, clear and direct,

beyond anything I had hoped for, brought me to my senses and showed me that his mind had been working

far in advance of mine; and more, shaping a double purpose that I had never dreamt of.

'My father?' said Fr�ulein Dollmann; 'yes, I am sure he will be very glad to see you.

'How did you know?' (a little maidenly confusion). 'Oh, Commander von Br�ning.'

I might have added that it had been clear as daylight all along that this visit was in the nature of an escapade

of which her father might not approve. I tried to say 'I won't tell,' without words, and may have succeeded.

'I told Mr Davies when we first met,' she went on. 'I expect him back very soontomorrow in fact; he

wrote from Amsterdam. He left me at Hamburg and has been away since. Of course, he will not know your

yacht is back again. I think he expected Mr Davies would stay in the Baltic, as the season was so late.

'Yes; but we are not living on her now. We are at our villa in the Schwannall�emy stepmother and I, that

is.' She added some details, and Davies gravely pencilled down the address on a leaf of the logbook; a

Meanwhile the kettle was boiling merrily, and I made the teacocoa, I should say, for the menu was

changed in deference to our visitor's tastes. 'This is fun!' she said. And by common consent we abandoned

ourselves, three youthful, hungry mariners, to the enjoyment of this impromptu picnic. Such a chance might

But the banquet was never celebrated. As at Belshazzar's feast, there was a writing on the wall; no

supernatural inscription, but just a printed name; an English surname with title and initials, in cheap gilt

lettering on the back of an old book; a silent, sneering witness of our snug party. The catastrophe came and

passed so suddenly that at the time I had scarcely even an inkling of what caused it; but I know now that this

is how it happened. Our visitor was sitting at the forward end of the starboard sofa, close to the bulkhead.

Davies and I were opposite her. Across the bulkhead, on a level with our heads, ran the bookshelf, whose

contents, remember, I had carefully straightened only half an hour ago, little dreaming of the consequence.

Some trifle, probably the logbook which Davies had reached down from the shelf, called her attention to the

rest of our library. While busied with the cocoa I heard her spelling out some titles, fingering leaves, and

twitting Davies with the little care he took of his books. Suddenly there was a silence which made me look

up, to see a startled and pitiful change in her. She was staring at Davies with wide eyes and parted lips, a

burning flush mounting on her forehead, and such an expression on her face as a sleepwalker might wear,

Half her mind was far away, labouring to construe some hideous dream of the past; half was in the present,

cringing before some sickening reality. She remained so for perhaps ten seconds, and thenplucky girl that

she wasshe mastered herself, looked deliberately round and up with a circular glance, strangely in the

manner of Davies himself, and spoke. How late it was, she must be goingher boat was not safe. At the

same time she rose to go, or rather slid herself along the sofa, for rising was impossible. We sat like

mannerless louts, in blank amazement. Davies at the outset had said, 'What's the matter?' in plain English, and

then relapsed into stupefaction. I recovered myself the first, and protested in some awkward fashion about the

cocoa, the time, the absence of fog. In trying to answer, her selfpossession broke down, poor child, and her

retreat became a blind flight, like that of a wounded animal, while every sordid circumstance seemed to

She tilted the corner of the table in leaving the sofa and spilt cocoa over her skirt; she knocked her head with

painful force against the sharp lintel of the doorway, and stumbled on the steps of the ladder. I was close

behind, but when I reached the deck she was already on the counter hauling up the dinghy. She had even

jumped in and laid hands on the sculls before any check came in her precipitate movements. Now there

occurred to her the patent fact that the dinghy was ours, and that someone must accompany her to bring it

'Oh no, thank you,' she stammered. 'If you will be so kind, Herr Carruthers. It is your turn. No, I mean, I

I stepped into the dinghy and motioned to take the sculls from her. She seemed not to see me, and pushed off

while Davies handed down her jacket, which she had left in the cabin. Neither of us tried to better the

situation by conventional apologies. It was left to her, at the last moment, to make a show of excusing herself,

an attempt so brave and yet so wretchedly lame that I tingled all over with hot shame. She only made matters

She shook her head, did not even offer her hand, and pulled away; Davies turned sharp round and went

There was now no muddy Rubicon to obstruct us, for the tide had risen a good deal, and the sands were

covering. I offered again to take the sculls, but she took no notice and rowed on, so that I was a silent

passenger on the stem seat till we reached her boat, a spruce little yacht's gig, built to the native model, with a

spoonbow and tiny leeboards. It was already afloat, but riding quite safely to a rope and a little grapnel,

'Yes, but I could not stay. Herr Carruthers, I want to say something to you.' (I knew it was coming; von

Br�ning's warning over again.) 'I made a mistake just now; it is no use your calling on us tomorrow.'

'We can wait. We have several days to spare, and we have to call for letters anyhow.'

'You must not delay on our account. The weather is very fine at last. It would be a pity to lose a chance of a

I insisted on being obtuse, for though this fencing with an unstrung girl was hateful work, the quest was at

stake. We were going to Norderney, come what might, and sooner or later we must see Dollmann. It was no

use promising not to. I had given no pledge to von Br�ning, and I would give none to her. The only

alternative was to violate the compact (which the present fiasco had surely weakened), speak out, and try and

make an ally of her. Against her own father? I shrank from the responsibility and counted the cost of

failurecertain failure, to judge by her conduct. She began to hoist her lugsail in a dazed, shiftless fashion,

'Father might not like it,' she said, so low and from such tremulous lips that I scarcely caught her words. 'He

does not like foreigners much. I am afraid ... he did not want to see Herr Davies again.'

'It was wrong of me to come aboardI suddenly remembered; but 1 could not tell Herr Davies.'

'He will understand. I know he will be very sorry, but,' I added, firmly, 'you can trust him implicitly to do the

right thing.' And how I prayed that this would content her! Thank Heaven, it did.

'Yes,' she said, 'I am afraid I did not say goodbye to him. You will do so?' She gave me her hand.

'One thing more,' I added, holding it, 'nothing had better be said about this meeting?'

I let go the gig's gunwale and watched her tighten her sheet and make a tack or two to windward. Then I

I FOUND Davies at the cabin table, surrounded with a litter of books. The shelf was empty, and its contents

I gave way, and told my story briefly. He listened in silence, drumming on the table with a book which he

'It's not goodbye,' he said. 'But I don't wonder; look here!' and he held out to me a small volume, whose

appearance was quite familiar to me, if its contents were less so. As I noted in an early chapter, Davies's

library, excluding tidetables, 'pilots', etc., was limited to two classes of books, those on naval warfare, and

those on his own hobby, cruising in small yachts. He had six or seven of the latter, including Knight's Falcon

in the Baltic, Cowper's Sailing Tours, Macmullen's Down Channel, and other lessknown stories of

adventurous travel. I had scarcely done more than look into some of them at offmoments, for our life had

left no leisure for reading. This particular volume wasno, I had better not describe it too fully; but I will

say that it was old and unpretentious, bound in cheap cloth of a rather antiquated style, with a title which

showed it to be a guide for yachtsmen to a certain British estuary. A white label partly scratched away bore

'Dollmann!' cried Davies. 'Dollmann wrote it.' I turned to the titlepage, and read: 'By Lieut. X, R.N.' The

name itself conveyed nothing to me, but I began to understand. Davies went on: The name's on the back,

'And there's the man himself. Ass that I am not to have seen it before! Look at the frontispiece.'

It was a sorry piece of illustration of the oldfashioned sort, lacking definition and finish, but effective

notwithstanding; for it was evidently the reproduction, though a cheap and imperfect process, of a

photograph. It represented a small yacht at anchor below some woods, with the owner standing on deck in his

shirt sleeves: a wellknit, powerful man, young, of middle height, clean shaved. There appeared to be

nothing remarkable about the face; the portrait being on too small a scale, and the expression, such as it was,

'By the shape of his head; that hasn't changed. Look how it widens at the top, and then flattenssort of

wedge shapedwith a high, steep forehead; you'd hardly notice it in that' (the points were not very

noticeable, but I saw what Davies meant). 'The height and figure are right, too; and the dates are about right.

Underneath the picture was the name of a yacht and a date. The publisher's date on the titlepage was the

'Sixteen years ago,' said Davies. 'He looks thirty odd in that, doesn't he? And fifty now.'

'Let's work the thing out. Sixteen years ago he was still an Englishman, an officer in Her Majesty's Navy.

Now he's a German. At some time between this and then, I suppose, he came to griefdisgrace, flight, exile.

'It was long before that. She has talked German from a child. What's her age, do you thinknineteen or

'Say she was four when this book was published. The crash must have come not long after.'

'I never saw another copy; picked this up on a secondhand bookstall for threepence.'

'Once; he asked himself to breakfast on the first day. By Jove! yes; you mean he saw the book?

'Do you really mean everything?' I said. 'In that case let's sail straight away and forget the whole affair. He's

only some poor devil with a past, whose secret you stumbled on, and, half mad with fear, he tried to silence

you. But you don't want revenge, so it's no business of ours. We can ruin him if we like; but is it worth it?'

'You don't mean a word you're saying,' said Davies, 'though I know why you say it; and many thanks, old

chap. I didn't mean "everything". He's plotting with Germans, or why did Grimm spy on us, and von Br�ning

crossexamine us? We've got to find out what he's at, as well as who he is. And as to herwhat do you think

I made my amende heartily. 'Innocent and ignorant,' was my verdict. 'Ignorant, that is, of her father's

treasonable machinations; but aware, clearly, that they were English refugees with a past to hide.' I said other

things, but they do not matter. 'Only,' I concluded, 'it makes the dilemma infinitely worse.'

'There's no dilemma at all,' said Davies. 'You said at Bensersiel that we couldn't hurt him without hurting her.

Well, all I can say is, we've got to. The time to cut and run, if ever, was when we sighted her dinghy. I had a

'It wasn't our fault. To refuse to have her on board would have been to give our show away; and the very fact

'I don't know yet; how can I know? It depends,' said Davies, slowly. 'But the point is, that we have two

'That's rather a large order,' I observed. 'Do you realize that at this very moment we have probably gained the

first object? If we went home now, walked into the Admiralty and laid our facts before them, what would be

'Well, Scotland Yard, too, then. Both of them want our man, I dare say. It would be strange if between them

they couldn't dislodge him, and, incidentally, either discover what's going on here or draw such attention to

'It's out of the question to let her betray her father, and then run away! Besides, we don't know enough, and

'Oh! that settles it,' I answered, hastily. 'Now I want to go back over the facts. When did you first see her?'

'She said just now, "Father said you would be safe." What had you been saying to her?'

'It was when I met her on the sand. (By the way, it wasn't a chance meeting; she had been making inquiries

and heard about us from a skipper who had seen the yacht near Wangeroog, and she had been down this way

before.) She asked at once about that day, and began apologizing, rather awkwardly, you know, for their

rudeness in not having waited for me at Cuxhaven. Her father found he must get on to Hamburg at once.'

'But you didn't go to Cuxhaven; you told her that? What exactly did you tell her? This is important.'

'I was in a fearful fix, not knowing what he had told her. So I said something vague, and then she asked the

very question von Br�ning did, "Wasn't there a schrecklich sea round the Scharhorn?"'

'Yes. He couldn't possibly have hidden that. She would have known by the look of the sea from the portholes,

'But when the Medusa hove to and he shouted to you to follow himdidn't she understand what was

'No, evidently not. Mind you, she couldn't possibly have heard what we said, in that weather, from below. I

couldn't crossquestion her, but it was clear enough what she thought; namely, that he had hove to for exactly

the opposite reason, to say he was taking the short cut, and that I wasn't to attempt to follow him.'

'But she was remorseful for having induced you to sail at all that day, and for not having waited to see you

'Nothing. I let her understand that I went there, and, not finding them, went on to the Baltic by the Eider river,

'No; I suppose she didn't like to. And there was no need, because my taking the Eider explained it.'

'Quite sure; but she may guess it now. She guessed foul play by seeing that book.'

'Of course she did; but I was thinking of something else. There are two stories afloat nowyours to von

Br�ning, the true one, that you followed the Medusa to the short cut; and Dollmann's to her, that you went

round the Scharhorn. That's evidently his version of the affairthe version he would have given if you had

been drowned and inquiries were ever made; the version he would have sworn his crew to if they discovered

'Yes; but meanwhile, supposing von Br�ning sees him before he knows you're back again, and wants to find

out the truth about that incident. If I were von Br�ning I should say, "By the way, what's become of that

young Englishman you decoyed away to the Baltic?" Dollmann would give his version, and von Br�ning.

'So we've been supposing; but we may be wrong. We're still in the dark as to Dollmann's position towards

these Germans. They may not even know he's English, or they may know that and not know his real name

and past. What effect your story will have on their relations with him we can't forecast. But I'm clear about

one thing, that it's our paramount interest to maintain the status quo as long as we can, to minimize the danger

you ran that day, and act as witnesses in his defence. We can't do that if his story and yours don't tally. The

discrepancy will not only damn him (that may be immaterial), but it will throw doubt on us.'

'Because if the short cut was so dangerous that he dared not own to having led you to it, it was dangerous

enough to make you suspect foul play; the very supposition we want to avoid. We want to be thought mere

'Hitherto I believe we stand fairly well. Let's assume we hoodwinked von Br�ning at Bensersiel, and base our

policy on that assumption. It follows that we must show Dollmann at the earliest possible moment that you

have come back, and give him time to revise his tactics before he commits himself. Now'

'I don't think so. We've just agreed to keep this afternoon's episode a secret. She expects never to see us

Now, he comes tomorrow by the morning boat, she said. What did that mean? Boat from where?'

'I know. From Norddeich on the mainland opposite. There's a railway there from Norden, and a steam ferry

'Your Bradshaw will tell ushere it is: "Winter Service, 8.30 a.m., due at 9.5."'

We had a tussle with the tide at first, but once over the watershed the channel improved, and the haze

lightened gradually. A lighthouse appeared among the sanddunes on the island shore, and before darkness

fell we dimly saw the spires and roofs of a town, and two long black piers stretching out southwards. We

were scarcely a mile away when we lost our wind altogether, and had to anchor. Determined to reach our

destination that night we waited till the ebb stream made, and then towed the yacht with the dinghy. In the

course of this a fog dropped on us suddenly, just as it had yesterday. I was towing at the time, and, of course,

stopped short; but Davies shouted to me from the tiller to go on, that he could manage with the lead and

compass. And the end of it was that, at about nine o'clock, we anchored safely in the fivefathom roadstead,

close to the eastern pier, as a short reconnaissance proved to us. It had been a little masterpiece of adroit

There was utter stillness till our chain rattled down, when a muffled shout came from the direction of the pier,

and soon we heard a boat groping out to us. It was a polite but sleepy portofficer, who asked in a perfunctory

way for our particulars, and when he heard them, remembered the Dulcibella's previous visit.

The man laughed derisively. 'Not this year,' he said; 'there will be fogs for another week; it is always so, and

then storms. Better leave your yawl here. Dues will be only sixpence a month for you.

We were too excited to sup in comfort, or sleep in peace, or to do anything but plan and speculate. Never till

this night had we talked with absolute mutual confidence, for Davies broke down the last barriers of reserve

and let me see his whole mind. He loved this girl and he loved his country, two simple passions which for the

time absorbed his whole moral capacity. There was no room left for casuistry. To weigh one passion against

the other, with the discordant voices of honour and expediency dinning in his ears, had too long involved him

in fruitless torture. Both were right; neither could be surrendered. If the facts showed them irreconcilable, tant

I should have been a spiritless dog if I had not risen to his mood. But in truth his cutting of the knot was at

this juncture exactly what appealed to me. I, too, was tired of vicarious casuistry, and the fascination of our

enterprise, intensified by the discovery of that afternoon, had never been so strong in me. Not to be insincere,

I cannot pretend that I viewed the situation with his single mind. My philosophy when I left London was of a

very worldly sort, and no one can change his temperament in three weeks. I plainly said as much to Davies,

and indeed took perverse satisfaction in stating with brutal emphasis some social truths which bore on this

attachment of his to the daughter of an outlaw. Truths I call them, but I uttered them more by rote than by

conviction, and he heard them unmoved. And meanwhile I snatched recklessly at his own solution. If it

imparted into our adventure a strain of crazy chivalry more suited to knightserrant of the Middle Ages than

to sober modern youthswell, thank Heaven, I was not too sober, and still young enough to snatch at that

fancy with an ardour of imagination, if not of character; perhaps, too, of character, for Galahads are not so

common but that ordinary folk must needs draw courage from their example and put something of a blind

'We shall have to argue backwards,' I said. 'What is to be the final stage? Because that must govern the

There was only one answerto get Dollmann, secrets and all, daughter and all, away from Germany

altogether. So only could we satisfy the double aim we had set before us. What a joy it is, when beset with

doubts, to find a bedrock necessity, however unattainable! We fastened on this one and reasoned back from

it. The first lesson was that, however many and strong were the enemies we had to contend with, our sole

overt fee must be Dollmann. The issue of the struggle must be known only to ourselves and him. If we won,

and found out 'what he was at', we must at all costs conceal our success from his German friends, and detach

him from them before he was compromised. (You will remark that to blithely accept this limitation showed a

very sanguine spirit in us.) The next question, how to find out what he was at, was a deal more thorny. If it

had not been for the discovery of Dollmann's identity, we should have found it as hard a nut to crack as ever.

But this discovery was illuminating. It threw into relief two methods of action which hitherto we had been

hazily seeking to combine, seesawing between one and the other, each of us influenced at different times by

different motives. One was to rely on independent research; the other to extort the secret from Dollmann

direct, by craft or threats. The moral of today was to abandon the first and embrace the second.

The prospects of independent research were not a whit better than before. There were only two theories in the

field, the channel theory and the Memmert theory. The former languished for lack of corroboration; the latter

also appeared to be weakened. To Fr�ulein Dollmann the wreckworks were evidently what they purported

to be, and nothing more. This fact in itself was unimportant, for it was clear as crystal that she was no party to

her father's treacherous intrigues, if he was engaged in such. But if Memmert was his sphere for them, it was

disconcerting to find her so familiar with that sphere, lightly talking of a descent in a divingbellhinting,

too, that the mystery as to results was only for local consumption. Nevertheless, the charm of Memmert as the

place we had traced Grimm to, and as the only tangible clue we had obtained, was still very great. The really

cogent objection was the insuperable difficulty, known and watched as we were, of learning its significance.

If there was anything important to see there we should never be allowed to see it, while by trying and failing

we risked everything. It was on this point that the last of all misunderstandings between me and Davies was

dissipated. At Bensersiel he had been influenced more than he owned by my arguments about Memmert; but

at that time (as I hinted) he was biased by a radical prejudice. The channel theory had become a sort of

religion with him, promising double salvationnot only avoidance of the Dollmanns, but success in the

quest by methods in which he was past master. To have to desert it and resort to spying on naval defences

was an idea he dreaded and distrusted. It was not the morality of the course that bothered him. He was far too

clearheaded to blink at the essential fact that at heart we were spies on a foreign power in time of peace, or

to salve his conscience by specious distinctions as to our mode of operation. The foreign power to him was

Dollmann, a traitor. There was his final justification, fearlessly adopted and held to the last. It was rather that,

knowing his own limitations, his whole nature shrank from the sort of action entailed by the Memmert

On the other hand the road was now clear for the other method. Davies no longer feared to face the imbroglio

at Norderney; and that day fortune had given us a new and potent weapon against Dollmann; precisely how

potent we could not tell, for we had only a glimpse of his past, and his exact relations with the Government

were unknown to us. But we knew who he was. Using this knowledge with address, could we not wring the

rest from him? Feel our way, of course, be guided by his own conduct, but in the end strike hard and stake

everything on the stroke? Such at any rate was our scheme tonight. Later, tossing in my bunk, I bethought

me of the little drab book, lit a candle, and fetched it. A preface explained that it had been written during a

spell of two months' leave from naval duty, and expressed a hope that it might be of service to Corinthian

sailors. The style was unadorned, but scholarly and pithy. There was no trace of the writer's individuality,

save a certain subdued relish in describing banks and shoals, which reminded me of Davies himself. For the

'HERE she comes,' said Davies. It was nine o'clock on the next day, 22nd October, and we were on deck

waiting for the arrival of the steamer from Norddeich. There was no change in the weatherstill the same

stringent cold, with a high barometer, and only fickle flaws of air; but the morning was gloriously clear,

except for a wreath or two of mist curling like smoke from the sea, and an attenuated belt of opaque fog on

the northern horizon. The harbour lay open before us, and very commodious and civilized it looked, enclosed

between two long piers which ran quite half a mile out from the land to the roadstead (RiffGat by name)

where we lay. A stranger might have taken it for a deep and spacious haven; but this, of course, was an

illusion, due to the high water. Davies knew that threequarters of it was mud, the remainder being a

dredgedout channel along the western pier. A couple of tugs, a dredger, and a ferry packet with steam up,

were moored on that sidea small stack of galliots on the other. Beyond these was another vessel, a galliot

in build, but radiant as a queen among sluts; her varnished sides and spars flashing orange in the sun. These,

and her snowwhite sailcovers and the twinkle of brass and gunmetal, proclaimed her to be a yacht. I had

already studied her through the glasses and read on her stern Medusa. A couple of sailors were swabbing her

decks; you could hear the slush of the water and the scratching of the deckbrooms. 'They can see us

For that matter all the world could see uscertainly the incoming steamer must; for we lay as near to the pier

as safety permitted, abreast of the berth she would occupy, as we knew by a gangway and a knot of sailors.

'Remember, we're not supposed to know he's coming,' I said; 'let's go below.' Besides the skylight, our

'coachhouse' cabin top had little oblong side windows. We wiped clean those on the port side and watched

The steamer backed her paddles, flinging out a wash that set us rolling to our scuppers. There seemed to be

very few passengers aboard, but all of them were gazing at the Dulcibella while the packet was warped

alongside. On the forward deck there were some marketwomen with baskets, a postman, and a weedy youth

who might be an hotel waiter; on the afterdeck, standing close together, were two men in ulsters and soft

'There he is!' said Davies, in a tense whisper; 'the tall one.' But the tall one turned abruptly as Davies spoke

and strode away behind the deckhouse, leaving me just a lightning impression of a grey beard and a steep

tanned forehead, behind a cloud of cigar smoke. It was perverse of me, but, to tell the truth, I hardly missed

him, so occupied was I by the short one, who remained leaning on the rail, thoughtfully contemplating the

Dulcibella through goldrimmed pincenez: a sallow, wizened old fellow, beetlebrowed, with a bush of

grizzled moustache and a jetblack tuft of beard on his chin. The most remarkable feature was the nose,

which was broad and flat, merging almost imperceptibly in the wrinkled cheeks. Lightly beaked at the nether

extremity, it drooped towards an enormous cigar which was pointing at us like a gun just discharged. He

'Who's that?' I whispered to Davies. (There was no need to talk in whispers, but we did so instinctively.)

Some parcels and mailbags had been thrown up, and the weedy waiter and two marketwomen had gone up

the gangway, which was now being hauled up, and were standing on the quay. I think one or two other

persons had first come aboard unnoticed by us, but at the last moment a man we had not seen before jumped

The steamer whistled sharply, circled backwards into the roadstead, and then steamed away. The pier soon

'There must be some other quay to stop at nearer the town,' said Davies. 'Let's go ashore and get your letters.'

We had made a long and painful toilette that morning, and felt quite shy of one another as we sculled towards

the pier, in muchcreased blue suits, conventional collars, and brown boots. It was the first time for two years

that I had seen Davies in anything approaching a respectable garb; but a fashionable wateringplace, even in

We tied up the dinghy to an iron ladder, and on the pier found our inquisitor of the night before smoking in

the doorway of a shed marked 'Harbour Master'. After some civilities we inquired about the steamer. The

answer was that it was Saturday, and she had, therefore, gone on to Juist. Did we want a good hotel? The

'Juist, by Jove!' said Davies, as we walked on. 'Why are those three going to Juist?'

Davies agreed, and we both looked longingly westward at a strawcoloured streak on the sea.

And find her we did soon after, the outermost of the stack of galliots, on the farther side of the harbour. Two

men, whose faces we took a good look at, were sitting on her hatch, mending a sail.

Flooded with sun, yet still as the grave, the town was like a dead butterfly for whom the healing rays had

come too late. We crossed some deserted public gardens commanded by a gorgeous casino, its porticos

heaped with chairs and tables; so past kiosques and caf�s, great white hotels with boarded windows, bazaars

and booths, and all the stale lees of vulgar frivolity, to the postoffice, which at least was alive. I received a

packet of letters and purchased a local timetable, from which we learned that the steamer sailed daily to

Borkum via Norderney, touching three times a week at Juist (weather permitting). On the return journey

today it was due at Norderney at 7.30 p.m. Then I inquired the way to the 'Vier Jahreszeiten'. 'For whatever

Davies,' I said, 'we are going to have the best breakfast money can buy! We've got the whole day before us.'

The 'Four Seasons' Hotel was on the esplanade facing the northern beach. Living up to its name, it announced

on an illuminated signboard, 'Inclusive terms for winter visitors; special attention to invalids, etc.' Here in a

great glass restaurant, with the unruffled blue of ocean spread out before us, we ate the king of breakfasts,

dismissed the waiter, and over long and fragrant Havanas examined my mail at leisure.

'What a waste of good diplomacy!' was my first thought, for nothing had been tampered with, so far as we

could judge from the minutest scrutiny, directed, of course, in particular to the franked official letters (for to

The first in order of date (6th Oct.) ran: 'Dear Carruthers.Take another week by all means.Yours, etc.'

The second (marked 'urgent') had been sent to my home address and forwarded. It was dated 15th October,

and cancelled the previous letter, requesting me to return to London without delay'I am sorry to abridge

your holiday, but we are very busy, and, at present, shorthanded.Yours, etc.' There was a dry postscript to

the effect that another time I was to be good enough to leave more regular and definite information as to my

'You won't go, will you?' said he, looking, nevertheless, with unconcealed awe at the great man's handwriting

under the haughty official crest. Meanwhile I discovered an endorsement on a corner of the envelope: 'Don't

worry; it's only the chief's fuss.M' I promptly tore up the envelope. There are domestic mysteries which

it would be indecent and disloyal to reveal, even to one's best friend. The rest of my letters need no remark; I

smiled over some and blushed over othersall were voices from a life which was infinitely far away.

Davies, meanwhile, was deep in the foreign intelligence of a newspaper, spelling it out line by line, and

'Hullo!' he said, suddenly; 'same old game! Hear that siren?' A curtain of fog had grown on the northern

There was some marketing to be done on the way back, and in the course of looking for the shops we wanted

we came on the Schwannall�e and noted its position. Before we reached the harbour the fog was on us,

charging up the streets in dense masses. Happily a tramline led right up to the pierhead, or we should have

lost our way and wasted time, which, in the event, was of priceless value. Presently we stumbled up against

the Harbour Office, which was our landmark for the steps where we had tied up the dinghy. The same official

appeared and goodnaturedly held the painter while we handed in our parcels. He wanted to know why we

had left the fleshpots of the 'Vier Jahreszeiten'. To look after our yacht, of course. There was no need, he

objected; there would be no traffic moving while the fog lasted, and the fog, having come on at that hour, had

come to stay. If it did clear he would keep an eye on the yacht for us. We thanked him, but thought we would

The distance was eighty yards at the most, but we had to use a scientific method, the same one, in fact, that

'Row straight out at right angles to the pier,' he said now. I did so, Davies sounding with his scull between the

strokes. He found the bottom after twenty yards, that being the width of the dredgedout channel at this

point. Then we turned to the right, and moved gently forward, keeping touch with the edge of the mudbank

(for all the world like blind men tapping along a kerbstone) and taking short excursions from it, till the

Dulcibella hove in view. 'That's partly luck,' Davies .commented; 'we ought to have had the compass as well.'

'It's very good practice, that sort of thing,' said Davies, when we had disembarked.

'Don't know. Let's have another try. I can't sit still all day. Let's explore this channel.'

'More,' said Davies, absently. 'It's not so much the distancewhat's the time? Ten fifteen; quarter

But seeing him, to my amazement, serious, I was stung by the splendour of the idea I had awakened.

Confidence in his skill was second nature to me. I swept straight on to the logic of the thing, the greatness,

the completeness of the opportunity, if by a miracle it could be seized and used. Something was going on at

Memmert today; our men had gone there; here were we, ten miles away, in a smothering, blinding fog. It

was known we were hereDollmann and Grimm knew it; the crew of the Medusa knew it; the crew of the

Kormoran knew it; the man on the pier, whether he cared or not, knew it. But none of them knew Davies as I

'Stop a second,' said Davies; 'give me two minutes.' He whipped out the German chart. 'Where exactly should

'Listen thenthere are two routes: the outside one by the open sea, right round Juist, and doubling

souththe simplest, but the longest; the depot's at the south point of Memmert, and Memmert's nearly two

'Sixteen miles good. And we should have to row in a breaking swell most of the way, close to land.'

'Out of the question; it's too public, too, if it clears. The steamer went that way, and will come back that way.

We must go inside over the sands. Am I dreaming, though? Can you possibly find the way?'

'I shouldn't wonder. But I don't believe you see the hitch. It's the time and the falling tide. High water was

about 8.15: it's now 10.15, and all those sands are drying off. We must cross the SeeGat and strike that

boomed channel, the Memmert Balje; strike it, freeze on to itcan't cut off an inchand pass that

"watershed" you see there before it's too late. It's an infernally bad one, I can see. Not even a dinghy will

'Good Lord! What are we talking for? Change, man, change! Talk while we're changing.' (He began flinging

off his shore clothes, and I did the same.) 'It's at least five miles to the end of it; six, allowing for bends; hour

and a half hard pulling; two, allowing for checks. Are you fit? You'll have to pull the most. Then there are six

'After we get there? Bad; but we must risk that. If it clears on the way there it doesn't matter by this route; we

'We shall have a rising tide, anyway. If the fog lastscan you manage in a fog and dark?'

'The dark makes it no more difficult, if we've a light to see the compass and chart by. You trim the binnacle

lampno, the ridinglight. Now give me the scissors, and don't speak a word for ten minutes. Meanwhile,

think it out, and load the dinghy(by Jove! though, don't make a sound)some grub and whisky, the

I left Davies absorbed in the charts, and softly went about my own functions. In ten minutes he was on the

This was only roughly true, for I could not have stated in words all the pros and cons that I had balanced. It

was an impulse that drove me forward; but an impulse founded on reason, with just a tinge, perhaps, of

It was twentyfive minutes to eleven when we noiselessly pushed off. 'Let her drift,' whispered Davies, 'the

We slid by the Dulcibella, and she disappeared. Then we sat without speech or movement for about five

minutes, while the gurgle of tide through piles approached and passed. The dinghy appeared to be motionless,

just as a balloon in the clouds may appear to its occupants to be motionless, though urged by a current of air.

In reality we were driving out of the RiffGat into the SeeGat. The dinghy swayed to a light swell.

'Now, pull,' said Davies, under his breath; 'keep it long and steady, above all steadyboth arms with equal

I was on the bowthwart; he vis�vis to me on the stern seat, his left hand behind him on the tiller, his right

forefinger on a small square of paper which lay on his knees; this was a section cut out from the big German

chart. On the midshipthwart between us lay the compass and a watch. Between these three

objectscompass, watch, and charthis eyes darted constantly, never looking up or out, save occasionally

for a sharp glance over the side at the flying bubbles, to see if I was sustaining a regular speed. My duty was

to be his automaton, the human equivalent of a marine engine whose revolutions can be counted and used as

data by the navigator. My arms must be regular as twin pistons; the energy that drove them as controllable as

steam. It was a hard ideal to reach, for the complex mortal tends to rely on all the senses God has given him,

so unfitting himself for mechanical exactitude when a sense (eyesight, in my case) fails him. At first it was

constantly 'left' or 'right' from Davies, accompanied by a bubbling from the rudder.

'This won't do, too much helm,' said Davies, without looking up. 'Keep your stroke, but listen to me. Can you

'Take your time, and don't get flurried, but each time you come forward have a good look at it. The course is

sou'west halfwest. You take the opposite, northeast halfeast, and keep her stern on that. It'll be rough,

I did as he said, not without effort, and our progress gradually became smoother, till he had no need to speak

at all. The only sound now was one like the gentle simmer of a saucepan away to portthe lisp of surf I

knew it to beand the muffled grunt of the rowlocks. I broke the silence once to say 'It's very shallow.' I had

About half an hour passed, and then he added sounding to his other occupations. 'Plump' went the lead at

regular intervals, and he steered with his hip while pulling in the line. Very little of it went out at first, then

less still. Again I struck bottom, and, glancing aside, saw weeds. Suddenly he got a deep cast, and the dinghy,

freed from the slight drag which shallow water always inflicts on a small boat, leapt buoyantly forward. At

the same time, I knew by boils on the smooth surface that we were in a strong tideway.

For a hundred yards or more I bent to my sculls and made her fly. Davies was getting six fathom casts, till,

just as suddenly as it had deepened, the water shoaledten feet, six, three, onethe dinghy grounded.

'Good!' said Davies. 'Back her off! Pull your right only.' The dinghy spun round with her bow to N.N.W.

'Both arms together! Don't you worry about the compass now; just pull, and listen for orders. There's a tricky

He put aside the chart, kicked the lead under the seat, and, kneeling on the dripping coils of line, sounded

continuously with the buttend of the boathook, a stumpy little implement, notched at intervals of a foot,

and often before used for the same purpose. All at once I was aware that a check had come, for the dinghy

I obeyed and we brought up, swinging to a slight current, whose direction Davies verified by the compass.

Then for half a minute he gave himself up to concentrated thought. What struck me most about him was that

he never for a moment strained his eyes through the fog; a useless exercise (for five yards or so was the

radius of our vision) which, however, I could not help indulging in, while I rested. He made up his mind, and

we were off again, straight and swift as an arrow this time. and in water deeper than the boathook. I could

see by his face that he was taking some bold expedient whose issue hung in the balance ... Again we touched

mud, and the artist's joy of achievement shone in his eyes. Backing away, we headed west. and for the first

A boom, one of the usual upright saplings, glided out of the mist. He caught hold of it, and we brought up.

It was 11.10. I ate some biscuits and took a nip of whisky while Davies prepared for the next stage.

We had reached the eastern outlet of Memmert Balje, the channel which runs east and west behind Juist

Island, direct to the south point of Memmert. How we had reached it was incomprehensible to me at the time,

but the reader will understand by comparing my narrative with the dotted line on the chart. I add this brief

explanation, that Davies's method had been to cross the channel called the Buse Tief, and strike the other side

of it at a point well south of the outlet of the Memmert Balje (in view of the northward set of the ebbtide),

and then to drop back north and feel his way to the outlet. The check was caused by a deep indentation in the

Itzendorf Flat; a culdesac, with a wide mouth, which Davies was very near mistaking for the Balje itself.

We had no time to skirt dents so deep as that; hence the dash across its mouth with the chance of missing the

upper lip altogether, and of either being carried out to sea (for the slightest error was cumulative) or straying

The next three miles were the most critical of all. They included the 'watershed', whose length and depth were

doubtful; they included, too, the crux of the whole passage, a spot where the channel forks, our own branch

continuing west, and another branch diverging from it northwestward. We must row against time, and yet

we must negotiate that crux. Add to this that the current was against us till the watershed was crossed; that the

tide was just at its most baffling stage, too low to allow us to risk short cuts, and too high to give definition to

the banks of the channel; and that the compass was no aid whatever for the minor bends. 'Time's up,' said

Davies, and on we went. I was hugging the comfortable thought that we should now have booms on our

starboard for the whole distance; on our starboard, I say, for experience had taught us that all channels

running parallel with the coast and islands were uniformly boomed on the northern side. Anyone less

confident than Davies would have succumbed to the temptation of slavishly relying on these marks, creeping

from one to the other, and wasting precious time. But Davies knew our friend the 'boom' and his eccentricities

too well; and preferred to trust to his sense of touch, which no fog in the world could impair. If we happened

to sight one, well and good, we should know which side of the channel we were on. But even this contingent

advantage he deliberately sacrificed after a short distance, for he crossed over to the south or unboomed side

and steered and sounded along it, using the ltzendorf Flat as his handrail, so to speak. He was compelled to do

this, he told me afterwards, in view of the crux, where the converging lines of booms would have involved us

in irremediable confusion. Our branch was the southern one, and it followed that we must use the southern

bank, and defer obtaining any help from booms until sure we were past that critical spot.

For an hour we were at the extreme strain, I of physical exertion, he of mental. I could not get into a steady

swing, for little checks were constant. My right scull was for ever skidding on mud or weeds, and the

backward suck of shoal water clogged our progress. Once we were both of us out in the slime tugging at the

dinghy's sides; then in again, blundering on. I found the fog bemusing, lost all idea of time and space, and felt

like a senseless marionette kicking and jerking to a mad music without tune or time. The misty form of

Davies as he sat with his right arm swinging rhythmically forward and back, was a clockwork figure as mad

as myself, but didactic and gibbering in his madness. Then the boathook he wielded with a circular sweep

began to take grotesque shapes in my heated fancy; now it was the antenna of a groping insect, now the crank

of a cripple's selfpropelled perambulator, now the alpenstock of a lunatic mountaineer, who sits in his chair

and climbs and climbs to some phantom 'watershed'. At the back of such mind as was left me lodged two

insistent thoughts: 'we must hurry on,' 'we are going wrong.' As to the latter, take a linkboy through a

London fog and you will experience the same thing: he always goes the way you think is wrong. 'We're

rowing back!' I remember shouting to Davies once, having become aware that it was now my left scull which

splashed against obstructions. 'Rubbish,' said Davies. 'I've crossed over'; and I relapsed.

By degrees I returned to sanity, thanks to improved conditions. It is an ill wind that blows nobody good, and

the state of the tide, though it threatened us with total failure, had the compensating advantage that the lower

it fell the more constricted and defined became our channel; till the time came when the compass and

boathook were alike unnecessary, because our handrail, the muddy brink of the channel, was visible to the

eye, close to us; on our right hand always now, for the crux was far behind, and the northern side was now

our guide. All that remained was to press on with might and main ere the bed of the creek dried.

What a race it was! Homeric, in effect; a struggle of men with gods, for what were the gods but forces of

nature personified'? If the God of the Falling Tide did not figure in the Olympian circle he is none the less a

mighty divinity. Davies left his post. and rowed stroke. Under our united efforts the dinghy advanced in

strenuous leaps, hurling miniaturerollers on the bank beside us. My palms, seasoned as they were, were

We stopped the dinghy dead, and he stabbed over the side with the boathook. It passed gently astern of us,

'Three feet and the current with us. Well over it,' he said. 'I'll paddle on while you rest and feed.'

It was a few minutes past one and we still, as he calculated. had eight miles before us, allowing for bends.

I took his word for it, and munched at tongue and biscuits. As for muscle, we were both in hard condition. He

was fresh, and what distress I felt was mainly due to spasmodic exertion culminating in that desperate spurt.

As for the fog. it had more than once shown a faint tendency to lift, growing thinner and more luminous, in

Note the spot marked 'second rest' (approximately correct. Davies says) and the course of the channel from

that point westward. You will see it broadening and deepening to the dimensions of a great river, and finally

merging in the estuary of the Ems. Note, too, that its northern boundary, the edge of the now uncovered

Nordland Sand, leads, with one interruption (marked A), direct to Memmert, and is boomed throughout. You

will then understand why Davies made so light of the rest of his problem. Compared with the feats he had

performed, it was child's play, for he always had that visible margin to keep touch with if he chose, or to

return to in case of doubt. As a matter of factobserve our dotted linehe made two daring departures from

it, the first purely to save time, the second partly to save time and partly to avoid the very awkward spot

marked A, where a creek with booms and a little delta of its own interrupts the even bank. During the first of

these departuresthe shortest but most brillianthe let me do the rowing, and devoted himself to the

niceties of the course; during the second, and through both the intermediate stages, he rowed himself, with

occasional pauses to inspect the chart. We fell into a long, measured stroke, and covered the miles rapidly,

scarcely exchanging a single word till, at the end of a long pull through vacancy, Davies said suddenly;

HIS tour de force was achieved, and for the moment something like collapse set in.

I made him drink some whisky, which revived him; and then, speaking in whispers, we settled certain points.

I alone was to land. Davies demurred to this out of loyalty, hut common sense, coinciding with a strong

aversion of his own, settled the matter. Two were more liable to detection than one. I spoke the language

well, and if challenged could cover my retreat with a gruff word or two; in my woollen overalls, seaboots,

oilskin coat, with a sou'wester pulled well over my eyes, I should pass in a fog for a Frisian. Davies must

mind the dinghy; but how was I to regain it? I hoped to do so without help, by using the edge of the sand; but

'Take the pocketcompass,' he said. 'Never budge from the shore without using it, and lay it on the ground for

steadiness. Take this scrap of chart, tooit may come in useful; but you can t miss the depot, it looks to be

'The young flood's makinghas been for nearly an hourthat bank (he measured it with his eye) will be

'Don't run it too fine. It's steep here, but it may shelve farther on. If you have to wade you'll never find me,

and you'll make a deuce of a row. Got your watch, matches, knife? No knife? Take mine; never go anywhere

'Wait a bit, we must settle a place to meet at in case I'm late and can't reach you here.'

'We were fools to come, I believe,' said Davies, gloomily. 'There are no meetingplaces in a place like this.

Here's the best I can see on the charta big triangular beacon marked on the very point of Memmert. You'll

I stepped out, climbed a miry glacis of five or six feet, reached hard wet sand, and strode away with the

sluggish ripple of the Balje on my left hand. A curtain dropped between me and Davies, and I was

alonealone, but how I thrilled to feel the firm sand rustle under my boots; to know that it led to dry land,

where, whatever befell, I could give my wits full play. I clove the fog briskly.

Good Heavens! what was that? I stopped short and listened. From over the water on my left there rang out,

dulled by fog, but distinct to the ear, three double strokes on a bell or gong. I looked at my watch.

'Ship at anchor,' I said to myself. 'Six bells in the afternoon watch.' I knew the Balje was here a deep

roadstead, where a vessel entering the Eastern Ems might very well anchor to ride out a fog.

I was just stepping forward when another sound followed from the same quarter, a buglecall this time. Then

I understoodonly menofwar sound buglesthe Blitz was here then; and very natural, too, I thought,

and strode on. The sand was growing drier, the water farther beneath me; then came a thin black ribbon of

weedhighwater mark. A few cautious steps to the right and I touched tufts of marram grass. It was

Memmert. I pulled out the chart and refreshed my memory. No! there could be no mistake; keep the sea on

my left and I must go right. I followed the ribbon of weed, keeping it just in view, but walking on the verge

of the grass for the sake of silence. All at once I almost tripped over a massive iron bar; others, a rusty

network of them, grew into being above and around me, like the arms of a ghostly polyp.

'What infernal spider's web is this?' I thought, and stumbled clear. I had strayed into the base of a gigantic

tripod, its gaunt legs stayed and crossstayed, its apex lost in fog; the beacon, I remembered. A hundred

yards farther and I was down on my knees again, listening with might and main; for several little sounds were

in the airvoices, the rasp of a boat's keel, the whistling of a tune. These were straight ahead. More to the

left. seaward, that is, I had aural evidence of the presence of a steamboata small one, for the hiss of

escaping steam was low down. On my right front I as yet heard nothing, but the depot must be there.

I prepared to strike away from my base, and laid the compass on the groundNW. roughly I made the

course. ('Southeastsoutheast for coming back,' I repeated inwardly, like a child learning a lesson.) Then

of my two allies I abandoned one, the beach, and threw myself wholly on the fog.

'Play the game,' I said to myself. 'Nobody expects you; nobody will recognize you.'

I advanced in rapid stages of ten yards or so, while grass disappeared and soft sand took its place, pitted

everywhere with footmarks. I trod carefully, for obstructions began to show themselvesan anchor, a heap

of rusty cable; then a boat bottom upwards, and, lying on it, a foul old meerschaum pipe. I paused here and

strained my ears, for there were sounds in many directions; the same whistling (behind me now), heavy

footsteps in front, and somewhere beyondfifty yards away, I reckoneda buzz of guttural conversation;

from the same quarter there drifted to my nostrils the acrid odour of coarse tobacco. Then a door banged.

I put the compass in my pocket (thinking 'southeast, southeast'), placed the pipe between my teeth (ugh! the

rank savour of it!) rammed my sou'wester hard down, and slouched on in the direction of the door that had

banged. A voice in front called, 'Karl Schicker'; a nearer voice, that of the man whose footsteps I had heard

approaching, took it up and called 'Karl Schicker': I, too, took it up, and, turning my back, called 'Karl

Schicker' as gruffly and gutturally as I could. The footsteps passed quite close to me, and glancing over my

shoulder I saw a young man passing, dressed very like me, but wearing a sealskin cap instead of a

sou'wester. As he walked he seemed to be counting coins in his palm. A hail came back from the beach and

I now became aware that I was on a beaten track. These meetings were hazardous, so I inclined aside, but not

without misgivings, for the path led towards the buzz of talk and the banging door, and these were my only

guides to the depot. Suddenly, and much before I expected it, I knew rather than saw that a wall was in front

of me; now it was visible, the side of a low building of corrugated iron. A pause to reconnoitre was absolutely

necessary; but the knot of talkers might have heard my footsteps, and I must at all costs not suggest the

groping of a stranger. I lit a matchtwoand sucked heavily (as I had seen navvies do) at my pipe,

studying the trend of the wall by reference to the sounds. There was a stale dottle wedged in the bowl, and

loathsome fumes resulted. Just then the same door banged again; another name, which I forget, was called

out. I decided that I was at the end of a rectangular building which I pictured as like an Aldershot 'hut', and

that the door I heard was round the corner to my left. A knot of men must be gathered there, entering it by

turns. Having expectorated noisily, 1 followed the tin wall to my right, and turning a corner strolled leisurely

on, passing signs of domesticity, a washtub, a waterbutt, then a tiled approach to an open door. I now was

aware of the corner of a second building, also of zinc, parallel to the first, but taller, for I could only just see

the eave. I was just going to turn off to this as a more promising field for exploration, when I heard a window

I am afraid I am getting obscure, so I append a rough sketch of the scene, as I partly saw and chiefly

imagined it. It was window (A) that I heard open. From it I could just distinguish through the fog a hand

protrude, and throw something outcigarend? The hand, a clean one with a gold signetring, rested for an

My geography was clear now in one respect. That window belonged to the same room as the hanging door

(B); for I distinctly heard the latter open and shut again, opposite me on the other side of the building. It

struck me that it might be interesting to see into that room. 'Play the game,' I reminded myself, and retreated a

few yards back on tiptoe, then turned and sauntered coolly past the window, puffing my villainous pipe and

taking a long deliberate look into the interior as I passed the more deliberate that at the first instant I

realized that nobody inside was disturbing himself about me. As I had expected (in view of the fog and the

time) there was artificial light within. My mental photograph was as follows: a small room with varnished

deal walls and furnished like an office; in the far righthand corner a countinghouse desk, Grimm sitting at

it on a high stool, sideface to me, counting money; opposite him in an awkward attitude a burly fellow in

seaman's dress holding a diver's helmet. In the middle of the room a deal table, and on it something big and

black. Lolling on chairs near it, their backs to me and their faces turned towards the desk and the diver, two

menvon Br�ning and an older man with a bald yellow head (Dollmann's companion on the steamer,

beyond a doubt). On another chair, with its back actually tilted against the window, Dollmann.

Such were the principal features of the scene; for details I had to make another inspection. Stooping low, I

crept back, quiet as a cat, till I was beneath the window, and, as I calculated, directly behind Dollmann's

chair. Then with great caution I raised my head. There was only one pair of eyes in the room that I feared in

the least, and that was Grimm's, who sat in profile to me, farthest away. I instantly put Dollmann's back

between Grimm and me, and then made my scrutiny. As I made it, I could feel a cold sweat distilling on my

forehead and tickling my spine; not from fear or excitement, but from pure ignominy. For beyond all doubt I

was present at the meeting of a bonafide salvage company. It was payday, and the directors appeared to be

Over the door was an old engraving of a twodecker under full sail; pinned on the wall a chart and the plan of

a ship. Relics of the wrecked frigate abounded. On a shelf above the stove was a small pyramid of encrusted

cannonballs, and supported on nails at odd places on the walls were corroded old pistols, and what I took to

be the remains of a sextant. In a corner of the floor sat a hoary little carronade, carriage and all. None of these

things affected me so much as a pile of lumber on the floor, not firewood but unmistakable wreckwood,

black as bogoak, still caked in places with the mud of ages. Nor was it the mere sight of this lumber that

dumbfounded me. It was the fact that a fragment of it, a balk of curved timber garnished with some massive

bolts, lay on the table, and was evidently an object of earnest interest. The diver had turned and was arguing

with gestures over it; von Br�ning and Grimm were pressing another view. The diver shook his head

frequently, finally shrugged his shoulders, made a salutation, and left the room. Their movements had kept

me ducking my head pretty frequently, but I now grew almost reckless as to whether I was seen or not. All

the weaknesses of my theory crowded on methe arguments Davies had used at Bensersiel; Fr�ulein

Dollmann's thoughtless talk; the ease (comparatively) with which I had reached this spot, not a barrier to

cross or a lock to force; the publicity of their passage to Memmert by Dollmann, his friend, and Grimm; and

now this glimpse of businesslike routine. In a few moments I sank from depth to depth of scepticism. Where

were my mines, torpedoes, and submarine boats, and where my imperial conspirators? Was gold after all at

the bottom of this sordid mystery? Dollmann after all a commonplace criminal? The ladder of proof 1 had

mounted tottered and shook beneath me. 'Don't be a fool,' said the faint voice of reason. 'There are your four

Two more employ�s came into the room in quick succession and received wages; one looking like a fireman,

the other of a superior type, the skipper of a tug, say. There was another discussion with this latter over the

balk of wreckwood, and this man, too, shrugged his shoulders. His departure appeared to end the meeting.

Grimm shut up a ledger, and I shrank down on my knees, for a general shifting of chairs began. At the same

time, from the other side of the building, I heard my knot of men retreating beachwards, spitting and chatting

as they went. Presently someone walked across the room towards my window. I sidled away on all fours, rose

and flattened myself erect against the wall, a sickening despondency on me; my intention to slink away

southeast as soon as the coast was clear. But the sound that came next pricked me like an electric shock; it

Quick as thought I was back in my old position, to find my view barred by a cretonne curtain. It was in one

piece, with no chink for my benefit, but it did not hang straight, bulging towards me under the pressure of

somethinghuman shoulders by the shape. Dollmann, I concluded, was still in his old place. I now was

exasperated to find that I could scarcely hear a word that was said, not even by pressing my ear against the

glass. It was not that the speakers were of set purpose hushing their voicesthey used an ordinary tone for

intimate discussionbut the glass and curtain deadened the actual words. Still, I was soon able to distinguish

general characteristics. Von Br�ning's voicethe only one I had ever heard beforeI recognized at once: he

was on the left of the table, and Dollmann's I knew from his position. The third was a harsh croak, belonging

to the old gentleman whom, for convenience, I shall prematurely begin to call Herr B�hme. It was too old a

voice to be Grimm's; besides, it had the ring of authority, and was dealing at the moment in sharp

interrogations. Three of its sentences I caught in their entirety. 'When was that?' 'They went no farther?' and

'Too long; out of the question.' Dollmann's voice, though nearest to me, was the least audible of all. It was a

dogged monotone, and what was that odd movement of the curtain at his back? Yes, his hands were behind

him clutching and kneading a fold of the cretonne. 'You are feeling uncomfortable, my friend,' was my

comment. Suddenly he threw back his headI saw the dent of itand spoke up so that I could not miss a

word. 'Very well, sir, you shall see them at supper tonight; I will ask them both.'

(You will not be surprised to learn that I instantly looked at my watchthough it takes long to write what I

have describedbut the time was only a quarter to four.) He added something about the fog, and his chair

'Your report, Herr Dollmann,' said B�hme, curtly. Dollmann left the window and moved his chair up to the

'Chatham,' said Dollmann, as if announcing a heading. It was an easy word to catch, rapped out sharp, and

you can imagine how it startled me. 'That's where you've been for the last month!' I said to myself. A map

crackled and I knew they were bending over it, while Dollmann explained something. But now my

exasperation became acute, for not a syllable more reached me. Squatting back on my heels, I cast about for

expedients. Should I steal round and try the door? Too dangerous. Climb to the roof and listen down the

stovepipe? Too noisy, and generally hopeless. I tried for a downward purchase on the upper half of the

window, which was of the simple sort in two sections, working vertically. No use; it resisted gentle pressure,

would start with a sudden jar if I forced it. I pulled out Davies's knife and worked the point of the blade

between sash and frame to give it playno result; but the knife was a nautical one, with a marlinspike as

Just now the door within opened and shut again, and I heard steps approaching round the corner to my right. I

had the presence of mind not to lose a moment, but moved silently away (blessing the deep Frisian sand)

round the corner of the big parallel building. Someone whom I could not see walked past till his boots

clattered on tiles, next resounded on boards. 'Grimm in his livingroom,' I inferred. The precious minutes

ebbed awayfive, ten, fifteen. Had he gone for good? I dared not return otherwise. Eighteenhe was

coming out! This time I stole forward boldly when the man had just passed, dimly saw a figure, and clearly

enough the glint of a white paper he was holding. He made his circuit and reentered the room.

Here I felt and conquered a relapse to scepticism. 'If this is an important conclave why don't they set guards?'

Answer, the only possible one, 'Because they stand alone. Their employ�s, like everyone we had met hitherto,

know nothing. The real object of this salvage company (a poor speculation, I opined) is solely to afford a

pretext for the conclave.' 'Why the curtain, even?' 'Because there are maps, stupid!'

I was back again at the window, but as impotent as ever against that even stream of low confidential talk. But

I would not give up. Fate and the fog had brought me here, the one solitary soul perhaps who by the chain of

circumstances had both the will and the opportunity to wrest their secret from these four men.

The marlinspike! Where the lower half of the window met the sill it sank into a shallow groove. I thrust the

point of the spike down into the interstice between sash and frame and heaved with a slowly increasing force,

which I could regulate to the fraction of an ounce, on this powerful lever. The sash gave, with the faintest

possible protest, and by imperceptible degrees I lifted it to the top of the groove, and the least bit above it, say

half an inch in all; but it made an appreciable difference to the sounds within, as when you remove your foot

from a piano's soft pedal. I could do no more, for there was no further fulcrum for the spike, and I dared not

Hope sank again when I placed my cheek on the damp sill, and my ear to the chink. My men were close

round the table referring to papers which I heard rustle. Dollmann's 'report' was evidently over, and I rarely

heard his voice; Grimm's occasionally, von Br�ning's and B�hme's frequently; but, as before, it was the latter

only that I could ever count on for an intelligible word. For, unfortunately, the villains of the piece plotted

without any regard to dramatic fitness or to my interests. Immersed in a subject with which they were all

familiar, they were allusive, elliptic, and persistently technical. Many of the words I did catch were unknown

to me. The rest were, for the most part, either letters of the alphabet or statistical figures, of depth, distance,

and, once or twice, of time. The letters of the alphabet recurred often, and seemed, as far as I could make out,

to represent the key to the cipher. The numbers clustering round them were mostly very small, with decimals.

To report what I heard to the reader would be impossible; so chaotic was most of it that it left no impression

on my own memory. All I can do is to tell him what fragments stuck, and what nebulous classification I

involved. The letters ran from A to G, and my best continuous chance came when B�hme, reading rapidly

from a paper, I think, went through the letters, backwards, from G, adding remarks to each; thus: 'G. . .

completed.' 'F.. . bad. . . 1.3 (metres?).. .2.5 (kilometres?).' 'E . . . thirtytwo. .. 1.2.' 'D. . . 3 weeks... thirty.'

Another time he went through this list again, only naming each letter himself, and receiving laconic answers

from Grimmanswers which seemed to be numbers, but I could not be sure. For minutes together I caught

nothing but the scratching of pens and inarticulate mutterings. But out of the muckheap I picked five

pearlsfour sibilant nouns and a name that I knew before. The nouns were 'Schleppboote' (tugs);

'Wassertiefe' (depth of water); 'Eisenbahn' (railway); ' (pilots). The name, also sibilant and thus easier to hear,

Two or three times I had to stand back and ease my cramped neck, and on each occasion I looked at my

watch, for I was listening against time, just as we had rowed against time. We were going to be asked to

supper, and must be back aboard the yacht in time to receive the invitation. The fog still brooded heavily and

the light, always bad, was growing worse. How would they get back? How had they come from Juist? Could

we forestall them? Questions of time, tide, distancejust the odious sort of sums I was unfit to cope

withwere distracting my attention when it should have been wholly elsewhere. 4.204.25now it was

past 4.30 when Davies said the bank would cover. I should have to make for the beacon; but it was fatally

near that steamboat path, etc., and I still at intervals heard voices from there. It must have been about 4.35

when there was another shifting of chairs within. Then someone rose, collected papers, and went out;

There was silence in the room for a minute, and after that, for the first time, I heard some plain colloquial

German, with no accompaniment of scratching or rustling. 'I must wait for this,' I thought, and waited.

'The tide serves well. The nighttrain, of course. Tell Grimm to be ready' (An inaudible question from von

Br�ning.) 'No, any weather.' A laugh from von Br�ning and some words I could not catch.

This appeared to be really the end. Both men rose and steps came towards the window. I leapt aside as I heard

it thrown up, and covered by the noise backed into safety. Von Br�ning called 'Grimm!' and that, and the

open window, decided me that my line of advance was now too dangerous to retreat by. The only alternative

was to make a circuit round the bigger of the two buildingsand an interminable circuit it seemedand all

the while I knew my compasscourse 'southeast' was growing nugatory. I passed a padlocked door, two

corners, and faced the void of fog. Out came the compass, and I steadied myself for the sum. 'Southeast

beforeI'm farther to the eastward noweast will about do'; and off I went, with an error of four whole

points, over tussocks and deep sand. The beach seemed much farther off than I had thought, and I began to

get alarmed, puzzled over the compass several times, and finally realized that I had lost my way. I had the

sense not to make matters worse by trying to find it again, and, as the lesser of two evils, blew my whistle,

softly at first, then louder. The bray of a foghorn sounded right behind me. I whistled again and then ran for

my life, the horn sounding at intervals. In three or four minutes I was on the beach and in the dinghy.

WE pushed off without a word, and paddled out of sight of the beach. A voice was approaching, hailing us.

The clues I left till later; the invitation was the thing, and I explained its urgency.

'How will they get back?' said Davies; 'if the fog lasts the steamer's sure to be late.'

'We can count for nothing,' I answered. 'There was some little steamboat off the depot, and the fog may lift.

'At this tide, a beeline to Norderney by compass; we shall have water over all the banks.'

He had all his preparations made, the lamp lit in advance, the compass in position, and we started at once; he

at the bowoar, where he had better control over the boat's nose; lamp and compass on the floor between us.

Twilight thickened into darknessa choking, pasty darknessand still we sped unfalteringly over that

trackless waste, sitting and swinging in our little pool of stifled orange light. To drown fatigue and suspense I

conned over my clues, and tried to carve into my memory every fugitive word I had overheard.

'What are there seven of round here?' I called back to Davies once (thinking of A to G). 'Sorry,' I added, for

'I see a star,' was my next word, after a long interval. 'Now it's gone. There it is again! Right aft!'

'That's Borkum light,' said Davies, presently; 'the fog's lifting.' A keen wind from the west struck our faces,

and as swiftly as it had come the fog rolled away from us, in one mighty mass, stripping clean and pure the

starry dome of heaven, still bright with the western afterglow, and beginning to redden in the east to the

rising moon. Norderney light was flashing ahead, and Davies could take his tired eyes from the pool of light.

'Damn!' was all he uttered in the way of gratitude for this mercy, and I felt very much the same; for in a fog

It was a quarter to seven. 'An hour'll do it, if we buck up,' he pronounced, after taking a rough bearing with

the two lights. He pointed out a star to me, which we were to keep exactly astern, and again I applied to their

Then followed the most singular of all our confabulations. Two memories are better than one, and the sooner

I carved the cipher into his memory as well as mine the better record we should have. So, with rigid economy

of breath, I snapped out all my story, and answered his breathless questions. It saved me from being

And so that outworn creed took a new lease of life; though for my part the words that clashed with it were

I should earn the just execration of the reader if I continued to report such a dialogue. Suffice to say that we

realized very soon that the substance of the plot was still a riddle. On the other hand, there was fresh scent,

abundance of it; and the question was already taking shapewere we to follow it up or revert to last night's

decision and strike with what weapons we had? It was a pressing question, too, the last of manywas there

to be no end to the emergencies of this crowded day?pressing for reasons I could not define, while

Meantime, we were nearing Norderney; the SeeGat was crossed, and with the last of the flood tide fair

beneath us, and the red light on the west pier burning ahead, we began insensibly to relax our efforts. But I

dared not rest, for I was at that point of exhaustion when mechanical movement was my only hope.

'Turned east,' said Davies. 'Buck upsteamer from Juist. No, by Jove! too small. What is it?'

On we laboured, while the gems waxed in brilliancy as the steamer overhauled us.

'Easy,' said Davies, 'I seem to know those lightsthe Blitz's launchdon't let's be caught rowing like

madmen in a muck sweat. Paddle inshore a bit.' He was right, and, as in a dream, I saw hurrying and

'We're done for now,' I remember thinking, for the guilt of the runaway was strong in me; and an old remark

of von Br�ning's about 'police' was in my ears. But she was level with and past us before I could sink far into

'Follow,' I answered, and essayed a feeble stroke, but the blade scuttered over the surface.

'Let's waif about for a bit,' said Davies. 'We're late anyhow. If they go to the yacht they'll think we're ashore.'

He extinguished the lantern, lit a pipe, and then rowed slowly on, while I sat on a slack heap in the stern and

devoted my last resources of will to the emancipation of the spirit from the tired flesh.

In ten minutes or so we were rounding the pier, and there was the yacht's topmast against the sky. I saw, too,

that the launch was alongside of her, and told Davies so. Then I lit a cigarette, and made a lamentable effort

to whistle. Davies followed suit, and emitted a strange melody which I took to be 'Home, Sweet Home,' but

'Why, they're on board, I believe,' said I; 'the cabin's lighted. Ahoy there!' I shouted as we came up. 'Who's

'Good evening, sir,' said a sailor, who was fending off the yacht with a boathook. 'It's Commander von

Before we could answer, an exclamation of: 'Why, here they are!' came from the deck of the Dulcibella, and

the dim form of von Br�ning him self emerged from the companionway. There was something of a scuffle

down below, which the commander nearly succeeded in drowning by the breeziness of his greeting.

I must explain that we had floated up between the yacht and the launch, whose sailors had passed her a little

aside in order to give us room. Her starboard sidelight was just behind and above us, pouring its green rays

obliquely over the deck of the Dulcibella. while we and the dinghy were in deep shadow between. The most

studied calculation could not have secured us more favourable conditions for a moment which I had always

dreadedthe meeting of Davies and Dollmann. The former, having shortened his sculls, just sat where he

was, half turned towards the yacht and looking up at his enemy. No lineament of his own face could have

been visible to the latter, while those pitiless green raysyou know their ravaging effect on the human

physiognomystruck full on Dollmann's face. It was my first fair view of it at close quarters, and, secure in

my background of gloom, I feasted with a luxury of superstitious abhorrence on the livid smiling mask that

for a few moments stooped peering down towards Davies. One of the caprices of the crude light was to

obliterate, or at any rate so penetrate, beard and moustache, as to reveal in outline lips and chin, the features

in which defects of character are most surely betrayed, especially when your victim smiles. Accuse me, if you

will, of stooping to melodramatic embroidery; object that my own prejudiced fancy contributed to the result;

but I can, nevertheless, never efface the impression of malignant perfidy amid base passion, exaggerated to

caricature, that I received in those few instants. Another caprice of the light was to identify the man with the

portrait of him when younger and cleanshaven, in the frontispiece of his own book; and another still, the

most repulsively whimsical of all, was to call forth a strong resemblance to the sweet young girl who had

Enough! I shall never offend again in this way. In reality I am much more inclined to laugh than shudder over

this meeting; for meanwhile the third of our selfinvited guests had with stertorous puffing risen to the stage,

for all the world like a demon out of a trapdoor, specially when he entered the zone of that unearthly light.

And there they stood in a row, like delinquents at judgement, while we, the true culprits, had only passively

to accept explanations. Of course these were plausible enough. Dollmann having seen the yacht in port that

morning had called on his return from Memmert to ask us to supper. Finding no one aboard, and concluding

we were ashore, he had meant to leave a note for Davies in the cabin. His friend, Herr B�hme, 'the

distinguished engineer', was anxious to see over the little vessel that had come so far, and he knew that

Davies would not mind the intrusion. Not at all, said Davies; would not they stop and have drinks? No, but

would we come to supper at Dollmann's villa? With pleasure, said Davies, but we had to change first. Up to

this point we had been masters of the situation; but here von Br�ning, who alone of the three appeared to be

I suppose he thought that evasion would pass muster, but as he spoke, I noticed to my horror that a stray

beam of light was playing on the bunch of white cottonwaste that adorned one of the rowlocks: for we had

forgotten to remove these telltale appendages. So I added: 'After ducks again'; and, lifting one of the guns,

let the light flash on its barrel. To my own ears my voice sounded husky and distant.

'I tell you what, my zealous young sportsmen, you're rash to leave your boat at anchor here after dark without

We laughed uncomfortably, and Davies compassed a wonderful German phrase to the effect that 'it might

come in useful'. Happily the matter went no farther, for the position was a strained one at the best, and would

not bear lengthening. The launch went alongside, and the invaders evacuated British soil, looking, for all von

Br�ning's flippant nonchalance, a rather crestfallen party. So much so, that, acute as was my anxiety, I took

courage to whisper to Davies, while the transhipment of Herr B�hme was proceeding: 'Ask Dollmann to stay

'I say, Herr Dollmann,' said Davies, 'won't you stay on board with us while we dress? There's a lot to tell you,

Dollmann had not yet stepped into the launch. 'With pleasure,' he said; but there followed an ominous silence,

'Oh, come along, Dollmann, and let them alone,' he said brusquely. 'You'll be horribly in the way down there,

'And it's now a quarterpast eight o'clock,' grumbled Herr B�hme from his corner behind the hood. Dollmann

'I think I twig,' said Davies, as he helped, almost hoisted, me aboard. 'Rather risky thougheh?'

The cabin was just as we had left it, our shore clothes lying in disorder on the bunks, a locker or two half

'It's here all right, but not where it should be.' I had been reading it, you remember, overnight, and in the

morning had replaced it in full view among the other books. I now found it behind them, in a wrenched

attitude, which showed that someone who had no time to spare had pushed it roughly inwards.

He produced long drinks, and we allowed ourselves ten minutes of absolute rest, stretched at full length on

'First, when they were talking about you and me. He was on his defence, and in a deuce of a funk, too.

B�hme was pressing him hard. Again, at the end, when he left the room followed by Grimm, who I'm certain

was sent to watch him. It was while he was away that the other two arranged that rendezvous for the night of

the 25th. And again just now, when you asked him to stay. I believe it's working out as I thought it would.

Von Br�ning, and through him B�hme (who is the 'engineer from Bremen'), know the story of that short cut

and suspect that it was an attempt on your life. Dollmann daren't confess to that, because, morality apart, it

could only have been prompted by extreme necessitythat is, by the knowledge that you were really

dangerous, and not merely an inquisitive stranger. Now we know his motive; but they don't yet. The position

'To prevent them seeing it. There's no earthly reason why they should have hidden it.'

'Then we're getting on,' said Davies. 'That shows they know his real name, or why should he shove the book

'That's the point. Ten to one he's in tortures of doubt, and would give a fortune to have five minutes' talk

alone with you to see how the land lies and get your version of the short cut incident. But they won't let him.

They want to watch him in our company and us in his; you see it's an interesting reunion for you and him.'

'Well, let's get into these beastly clothes for it,' groaned Davis. 'I shall have a plunge overboard.'

Something drastic was required, and I followed his example, curious as the hour was for bathing.

'I believe I know what happened just now,' said I, as we plied rough towels in the warmth below. 'They

steamed up and found nobody on board. "I'll leave a note," says Dollmann. "No independent

communications," say they (or think they), "we'll come too, and take the chance of inspecting this hornets'

nest." Down they go, and Dollmann, who knows what to look for first, sees that damning bit of evidence

staring him in the face. They look casually at the shelf among other thingsexamine the logbook, sayand

he manages to push his own book out of sight. But he couldn't replace it when the interruption came. The

action would have attracted attention then, and B�hme made him leave the cabin in advance, you know.'

'This is all very well,' said Davies, pausing in his toilet, 'but do they guess how we've spent the day? By Jove,

'We must chance it, and bluff for all we're worth,' I said. The fact was that Davies could not be brought to

realize that he had done anything very remarkable that day; yet those fourteen sinuous miles traversed

blindfold, to say nothing of the return journey and my own exploits, made up an achievement audacious and

improbable enough to outdistance suspicion. Nevertheless, von Br�ning's banter had been disquieting, and if

an inkling of our expedition had crossed his mind or theirs, there were ways of testing us which it would

'What are you looking for?' said Davies. I was at the collar and stud stage, but had broken off to study the

'Somebody insists on coming by the night train to somewhere, on the 25th,' I reminded him. 'B�hme, von

'At a railway station! I don't know where. They seemed to take it for granted. But it must be somewhere on

'Ho, there's a limit; it's probably somewhere near. Grimm was to come, and he's at Memmert.'

'Here's the map... Emden and Norddeich are the only coast stations till you get to Wilhelmshavenno, to

'And Emden's a long way south. Say Norddeich then; but according to this there's no train there after

'Let's see8.30 here tonightNorddeich'll be the same. Somewhere between 10.30 and 11 on the 25th.'

'There's a train at Emden at 9.22 from Leer and the south, and one at 10.50 from the north.'

'No, we can't; we should come to grief.' This was no barren truism, for I was ready with a plan of my own,

Meanwhile, ready or not, we had to start. The cabin we left as it was, changing nothing and hiding nothing;

the safest course to take, we thought, in spite of the risk of further search. But, as usual, I transferred my diary

to my breastpocket, and made sure that the two official letters from England were safe in a compartment of

'It's a case of "as you were",' said Davies. 'Today's trip was a chance we shall never get again. We must go

back to last night's decisiontell them that we're going to stay on here for a bit. Shooting, I suppose we shall

'Well, they know all about that. And then we must watch for a chance of tackling Dollmann privately. Not

We were at the ladder, and what a languid stiffness oppressed me I did not know till I touched its freezing

The overdue steamer was just arriving as we set foot on the quay. 'And yet, by Jove! why not tonight?'

'Steady on,' I protested; 'and, look here, I disagree altogether. I believe today has doubled our chances, but

unless we alter our tactics it has doubled our risks. We've involved ourselves in too tangled a web. I don't like

this inspection, and I fear that foxy old B�hme who prompted it. The mere fact of their inviting us shows that

we stand badly; for it runs in the teeth of Br�ning's warning at Bensersiel, and smells uncommonly like arrest.

There's a rift between Dollmann and the others, but it's a ticklish matter to drive our wedge in; as to

tonight, hopeless; they're on the watch, and won't give us a chance. And after all, do we know enough? We

don't know why he fled from England and turned German. It may have been an extraditable crime, but it may

not. Supposing he defies us? There's the girl, you seeshe ties our hands, and if he once gets wind of that,

'We want to detach him from Germany, but he'll probably go to any lengths rather than abandon his position

here. His attempt on you is the measure of his interest in it. Now, is today to be wasted?' We were passing

through the public gardens, and I dropped on to a seat for a moment's rest, crackling dead leaves under me.

'We have got two valuable clues,' I went on; 'that rendezvous on the 25th is one, and the name Esens is the

'Your planugh!it's as risky as mine, and more so,' I replied, rising with a jerk, for a spasm of cramp took

me. 'We must separate,' I added, as we walked on. 'We want, at one stroke, to prove to them that we're

'To London!' said Davies. We were passing under an arc lamp, and, for the dismay his face showed, I might

'After making inquiries about Dollmann's past I double back as somebody else, and follow up the clues.'

'When you say "making inquiries",' he continued, looking straight before him, 'I hope you don't mean setting

'He's fair game!' I could not help saying; for there were moments when I chafed under this scrupulous fidelity

'Let's stick together,' he broke out. 'I shall make a muck of it without you. And how are we to

'Somehowthat can wait. I know it's a leap in the dark, but there's safety in darkness.'

'Carruthers! what are we talking about? If they have the ghost of a notion where we have been today, you

give us away by packing off to London. They'll think we know their secret and are clearing out to make use

'Pessimist! Haven't I written proof of good faith in my pocketofficial letters of recall, received today? It's

one deception the less, you see; for those letters may have been opened; skilfully done it's impossible to

'It's a rum thing how often it pays in this spying business,' said Davies, thoughtfully.

We had been tramping through deserted streets under the glare of electricity, I with my leaden shuffle, he

with the purposeful forward stoop and swinging arms that always marked his gait ashore.

We turned slowly down, running over a few last points where prior agreement was essential. As we stood at

the very gate of the villa: 'Don't commit yourself to dates,' I said; 'say nothing that will prevent you from

being here at least a week hence with the yacht still afloat.' And my final word, as we waited at the door for

the bell to be answered, was: 'Don't mind what I say. If things look queer we may have to lighten the ship.'

THE door of a room on the ground floor was opened to us by a manservant. As we entered the rattle of a

piano stopped, and a hot wave of mingled scent and cigar smoke struck my nostrils. The first thing I noticed

over Davies's shoulder, as he preceded me into the room, was a woman the source of the perfume I

decidedturning round from the piano as he passed it and staring him up and down with a disdainful

familiarity that I at once hotly resented. She was in evening dress, pronounced in cut and colour; had a certain

exuberant beauty, not wholly ascribable to nature, and a notable lack of breeding. Another glance showed me

Dollmann putting down a liqueur glass of brandy, and rising from a low chair with something of a start; and

another, von Br�ning, lying back in a corner of a sofa, smoking; on the same sofa, vis�vis to him,

wasyes, of course it wasClara Dollmann; but how their surroundings alter people, I caught myself

thinking. For the rest, I was aware that the room was furnished with ostentation, and was stuffy with

stoveengendered warmth. Davies steered a straight course for Dollmann, and shook his hand with

businesslike resolution. Then he tacked across to the sofa, abandoning me in the face of the enemy.

'Carruthers,' I answered, distinctly. 'I was with Davies in the boat just now, but I don't think he introduced me.

And now he has forgotten again,' I added, dryly, turning towards Davies, who, having presented himself to

Fr�ulein Dollmann, was looking feebly from her to von Br�ning, the picture of tonguetied awkwardness.

'Von Br�ning told me about you,' said Dollmann, ignoring my illusion, 'but I was not quite sure of the name.

No; it was not an occasion for formalities, was it?' He gave a sudden, mirthless laugh. I thought him flushed

and excitable: yet, seen in a normal light, he was in some respects a pleasant surprise, the remarkable

conformation of the head giving an impression of intellectual power and restless, almost insanely restless,

'What need?' I said. 'I have heard so much about you from Daviesand Commander von Br�ningthat we

'And now, for Heaven's sake,' cried the lady of the perfume, 'let us join Herr B�hme at supper!'

So this was the stepmother; unmistakably German, I may add. I made my bow, and underwent much the same

sort of frank scrutiny as Davies, only that it was rather more favourable to me, and ended in a carmine smile.

There was a general movement and further introductions. Davies was led to the stepmother, and I found

myself confronting the daughter with quickened pulses, and a sudden sense of added complexity in the issues.

I had, of course, made up my mind to ignore our meeting of yesterday, and had assumed that she would do

the same. And she did ignore itwe met as utter strangers; nor did I venture (for other eyes were upon us) to

transmit any sign of intelligence to her. But the next moment I was wondering if I had not fallen into a trap.

She had promised not to tell, but under what circumstances? I saw the scene again; the misty flats, the spruce

little sailboat and its sweet young mistress, fresh as a dewy flower, but blanched and demoralized by a

horrid fear, appealing to my honour so to act that we three should never meet again, promising to be silent,

but as much in her own interest as ours, and under that implied condition which I had only equivocally

refused. The condition was violated, not by her fault or ours, but violated. She was free to help her father

against us, and was she helping him? What troubled me was the change in her; that shehow can I express it

without offence?was less in discord with her surroundings than she should have been; that in dress, pose

and manner (as we exchanged some trivialities) she was too near reflecting the style of the other woman; that,

in fact, she in some sort realized my original conception of her, so brutally avowed to Davies, so signally, as I

had thought, falsified. In the sick perplexity that this discovery caused me I dare say I looked as foolish as

Davies had done, and more so, for the close heat of the room and its tainted atmosphere, succeeding so

abruptly to the wholesome nip of the outside air, were giving me a faintness which this moral check lessened

my power to combat. Von Br�ning's face wore a sneering smile that I winced under; and, turning, I found

another pair of eyes fixed on me, those of Herr B�hme, whose squat figure had appeared at a pair of folding

doors leading to an adjoining room. Napkin in hand, he was taking in the scene before him with fat

benevolence, but exceeding shrewdness. I instantly noticed a faint red weal relieving the ivory of his bald

head; and I had suffered too often in the same quarter myself to mistake its origin, namely, our cabin

'This is the other young explorer, B�hme,' said von Br�ning. 'Herr Davies kidnapped him a month ago, and

bullied and starved him into submission; they'll drown together yet. I believe his sufferings have been

'His sufferings are over,' I retorted. 'I've mutinieddesertedhaven't I, Davies?' I caught Davies gazing with

'Oh, what?' he stammered. I explained in English. 'Oh, yes, Carruthers has to go home,' he said, in his vile

'Well, are we never going to have supper?' said madame, impatiently; and with that we all moved towards the

folding doors. There had been little formality in the proceedings so far, and there was less still in the

supperroom. B�hme resumed his repast with appetite, and the rest of us sat down apparently at random,

though an underlying method was discernible. As it worked out, Dollmann was at one end of the small table,

with Davies on his right and B�hme on his left; Frau Dollmann at the other, with me on her right and von

Br�ning on her left. The seventh personage, Fr�ulein Dollmann, was between the commander and Davies on

the side opposite to me. No servants appeared, and we waited on ourselves. I have a vague recollection of

various excellent dishes, and a distinct one of abundance of wine. Someone filled me a glass of champagne,

and I confess that I drained it with honest avidity, blessing the craftsman who coaxed forth the essence, the

'Didn't I tell you we had to call here for letters? I got mine this morning, and among others a summons back

to work. Of course I must obey.' (I found myself speaking in a frigid silence.) 'The annoying thing was that

there were two letters, and if I had only come here two days sooner I should have only got the first, which

This was no business of mine, and the less interest I took in it the better; so I turned to Frau Dollmann and

'Have you been in the harbour all day?' she asked, 'then how was it you did not visit us? Was Herr Davies so

'Quite the contrary; but I was,' I answered coldly; 'you see, we knew Herr Dollmann was away, and we really

only called here to get my letters; besides, we did not know your address.' I looked at Clara and found her

'I dare say; but directly after breakfast the fog came on, andwell, one cannot leave a yacht alone in a fog,' I

Von Br�ning pricked up his ears at this. 'I'll be hanged if that was your maxim,' he laughed; 'you're too fond

I sent him a glance of protest, as though to say: 'What's the use of your warning if you won't let me act on it?'

For, of course, my excuses were meant chiefly for his consumption, and Fr�ulein Dollmann's. That the lady I

'All day,' I said, brazenly; 'it was the safest thing to do.' And I looked again at Fr�ulein Dollmann, frankly and

squarely. Our eyes met, and she dropped hers instantly, but not before I had learnt something; for if ever I

I think I puzzled the stepmother, who shrugged her white shoulders, and said in that case she wondered we

had dared to leave our precious boat and come to supper. If we knew Frisian fogs as well as she didOh, I

explained, we were not so nervous as that; and as for supper on shore, if she only knew what a Spartan life

'Oh, for mercy's sake, don't tell me about it!' she cried, with a grimace; 'I hate the mention of yachts. When I

think of that dreadful Medusa coming from Hamburg' I sympathized with half my attention, keeping one

strained ear open for developments on my right. Davies, I knew, was in the thick of it, and none too happy

under B�hme's eye, but working manfully. 'My fault''sudden squall''quite safe', were some of the

phrases I caught; while I was aware, to my alarm, that he was actually drawing a diagram of something with

breadcrumbs and tableknives. The subject seemed to gutter out to an awkward end, and suddenly B�hme,

who was my righthand neighbour, turned to me. 'You are starting for England tomorrow morning?' he said.

'No, no! I am going to Bremen; but we shall travel together as far asyou go by Amsterdam, I suppose?as

far as Leer, then. That will be very pleasant.' I fancied there was a ghoulish gusto in his tone.

'As long as usual. I visit the work at Memmert once a month or so, spend a night with my friend Dollmann

Whether I was right or wrong in my next step I shall never know, but obeying a strong instinct, 'Memmert,' I

said; 'do tell me more about Memmert. We heard a good deal about it from Commander von Br�ning; but'

'Oh, I don't know,' said Davies, evidently aghast at my temerity; but I did not mind that. If he roughed my

'You gave us plenty of history, commander, but you did not bring it up to date.' The triple alliance laughed,

'Wait a bit, sir; I have an excuse. The commander was not only mysterious but inaccurate. I appeal to you,

Herr Dollmann, for it was apropos of you. When we fell in with him at Bensersiel, Davies asked him if you

were at home, and he said "No." When would you be back? Probably soon; but he did not know when.'

'Well, only three days later we arrive at Norderney, and find you have returned that very day, but have gone

to Memmert. Again (by the way) the mysterious Memmert! But more than ever mysterious now, for in the

'But also Commander von Br�ning, pay us a visit in his launch, all coming from Memmert!'

'Why, that you must have known at Bensersielonly three days agoexactly when Herr Dollmann was

'So it seems,' said he, 'with mock humility; 'but fill your glass and go on, young man. Why should I want to

'That's just what I want to know. Come, confess now; wasn't there something important afoot today at

Memmert? Something to do with the gold? You were inspecting it, sorting it, weighing it? Or I know! You

'Not a very good day for that! But softly, Herr Carruthers; no fishing for admissions. Who said we had found

'That's better! Nothing like candour, my young investigator. But I am afraid, having no authority, I cannot

'Ah! you remember that? (He remembers everything!) With a few shares, then; but with no expert knowledge.

'I cannot disclaim expert knowledge,' said B�hme, with humorous gravity; 'but I disclaim responsibility.

'And I,' said Dollmann, with a noisy laugh, 'must fall back on the shareholders, whose interests I have to

'Don't mind them, Herr Carruthers,' cried Frau Dollmann, 'they are making fun of you; but I will give you a

'I? Not I; I detest the sea! But Clara has.' Everyone looked at Clara, who in her turn looked in naive

'I have only been there once, some time ago,' said she, 'and I saw no gold at all.'

'Guarded,' I observed. 'I beg your pardon; I mean that perhaps you only saw what you were allowed to see.

And, in any case, the fr�ulein has no expert knowledge and no responsibility, and, perhaps, no shares. Her

'He's insatiable,' said von Br�ning, and there was a pause; clearly, they meant to elicit more.

'It begins to dawn on me that you made fools of us at Bensersiel. Don't you remember, Davies, what an

interest he took in all our doings? I wonder if he feared our exploring propensities might possibly lead us to

'Upon my word, this is the blackest ingratitude. I thought I made myself particularly agreeable to you.'

'Yes, indeed; especially about the duck shooting! How useful your local man would have beenboth to us

'Wait a moment; I'm thinking it out.' And thinking it out I was in deadly earnest, for all my levity, as I pressed

my hand on my burning forehead and asked myself where I was to stop in this seductive but perilous fraud.

To carry it too far was to court complete exposure; to stop too soon was equally compromising.

'What is he talking about, and why go on with this ridiculous mystery?' said Frau Dollmann.

'I was thinking about this supper party, and the way it came about,' I pursued, slowly.

'Of course not! Impromptu parties are always the pleasantest, and this one was delightfully impromptu. Now I

bet you I know its origin! Didn't you discuss us at Memmert? And didn't one of you suggest'One would

almost think you had been there,' said Dollmann. 'You may thank your vile climate that we weren't,' I

retorted, laughing. 'But, as I was saying, didn't one of you suggestwhich of you? Well, I'm sure it wasn't

'It's difficult to explainan intuition, sayI am sure he stood up for us; and I don't think it was Herr

Dollmann, because he knows Davies already, and he's always on the spot; and, in short I'll swear it was Herr

B�hme, who is leaving early tomorrow. and had never seen either of us. It was you, sir, who proposed that

'You can't deny it, though! And one thing more; in the harbour just nownothis is going too far; I shall

'If you insist; but this is rather a delicate matter. You know we were a little surprised to find you all on board;

and you, Herr B�hme, did you always take such a deep interest in small yachts? I am afraid that it was at a

certain sacrifice of comfort that you inspected ours!' And I glanced at the token he bore of his encounter with

our lintel. There was a burst of pentup merriment. in which Dollmann took the loudest share.

The engineer took the joke in the best possible part. 'We owe you apologies,' he conceded.

'He doesn't mind,' I said; 'I'm the injured one. I'm sure you never suspected Davies, who could?' (Who

'When I get back to London I shall go to Lloyd's! I haven't forgotten that flaw in the title.' There was an

'Gentlemen,' said Dollmann, with exaggerated solemnity, 'we must come to terms with this formidable young

'What do you say, gentlemen?' B�hme nodded. 'I think we owe some reparation. Under promise of absolute

'Of course, now that you trust me. But you'll show me everythinghonour brightwreck, depot, and all?'

'Victory!' I cried, in triumph. 'We've won our point, Davies. And now, gentlemen, I don't mind saying that as

far as I am concerned the joke's at an end; and, in spite of your kind offer, I must start for England

tomorrow' under the good Herr B�hme's wing. And in case my elastic conscience troubles you (for I see you

think me a weathercock) here are the letters received this morning, establishing my identity as a humble but

respectable clerk in the British Civil Service, summoned away from his holiday by a tyrannical superior.' (I

pulled out my letters and tossed them to Dollmann.) 'Ah, you don't read English easily, perhaps? I dare say

Leaving B�hme to study dates, postmarks, and contents to his heart's content, and unobserved, I turned to

sympathize with my fair neighbour, who complained that her head was going round; and no wonder. But at

'Yes, I shall,' said Davies. 'Why, I told you I should. If you leave me in the lurch like this I must have time to

'It's much more fun with two; I think I shall wire for another friend. Meanwhile, I should like to see

'I want to shoot ducks too,' pursued Davies, reddening. 'I always have wanted to; and you promised to help in

'Certainly not,' said he, unmoved; 'but, honestly, I should advise Herr Davies, if he is ever going to get home

'It's too fine,' said Davies; 'I prefer wind. If I cannot get a friend I think I shall stop cruising, leave the yacht

'You can leave her in my charge,' said Dollmann, 'and start with your friend tomorrow.'

'Thanks; but there is no hurry,' said Davies, growing redder than ever. 'I like Norderneyand we might have

'Thank you,' she said, in that low dry voice I had heard yesterday; 'but I think I shall not be sailing againit

'Oh, no!' said Davies, 'it's splendid.' But she had turned to von Br�ning, and took no notice.

'Well, send me a report about Memmert, Davies,' I laughed, with the idea of drawing attention from his

rebuff. But Davies, having once delivered his soul, seemed to have lost his shyness, and only gazed at his

neighbour with the placid, dogged expression that I knew so well. That was the end of those delicate topics;

I am not indifferent at any time to good wine and good cheer, nor was it for lack of pressing that I drank as

sparingly as I was able, and pretended to a greater elation than I felt. Nor certainly was it from any fine

scruples as to the character of the gentleman whose hospitality we were receivingscruples which I knew

affected Davies, who ate little and drank nothing. In any case he was adamant in such matters, and I verily

believe would at any time have preferred our own little paraffinflavoured messes to the best dinner in the

world. It was a very wholesome caution that warned me not to abuse the finest brain tonic ever invented by

the wit of man. I had finessed Memmert, as one finesses a low card when holding a higher; but I had too

much respect for our adversaries to trade on any fancied security we had won thereby. They had allowed me

to win the trick, but I credited them with a better knowledge of my hand than they chose to show. On the

other hand I hugged the axiom that in all conflicts it is just as fatal to underrate the difficulties of your enemy

as to overrate your own. Their chief oneand it multiplied a thousandfold the excitement of the

contestwas, I felt sure, the fear of striking in error; of using a sledgehammer to break a nut. In breaking it

they risked publicity, and publicity, I felt convinced, was death to their secret. So, even supposing they had

detected the finesse, and guessed that we had in fact got wind of imperial designs; yet, even so, I counted on

immunity so long as they thought we were on the wrong scent, with Memmert, and Memmert alone, as the

Had it been necessary I was prepared to encourage such a view, admitting that the cloth von Br�ning wore

had made his connexion with Memmert curious, and had suggested to Davies, for I should have put it on him,

with his naval enthusiasms, that the wreckworks were really navaldefence works. If they went farther, and

suspected that we had tried to go to Memmert that very day, the position was worse, but not desperate; for the

fear that they would take the final step and suppose that we had actually got there and overhead their talk, I

Precisely how near we came to it I shall never rightly know; but I have good reason to believe that we

trembled on the verge. The main issue was fully enough for me, and it was only in passing flashes that I

followed the play of the warring undercurrents. And yet, looking back on the scene, I would warrant there

was no party of seven in Europe that evening where a student of human documents would have found so rich

a field, such noble and ignoble ambitions, such base and holy fears, aye, and such pitiful agonies of the spirit.

Roughly divided though we were into separate camps, no two of us were wholly at one. Each wore a mask in

the grand imposture; excepting, I am inclined to think, the lady on my left, who, outside her own wellbeing,

which she cultivated without reserve, had, as far as I could see, but one axe to grindthe intimacy of von

Not even B�hme and von Br�ning were wholly at one; and as moral distances are reckoned, Davies and I

were leagues apart. Sitting between Dollmann and Dollmann's daughter, the living and breathing symbols of

the two polar passions he had sworn to harmonize, he kept an equilibrium which, though his aims were

nominally mine, I could not attain to. For me the man was the central figure; if I had attention to spare it was

on him that I bestowed it; groping disgustfully after his hidden springs of action, noting the evidences of

great gifts squandered and prostituted; questioning where he was most vulnerable; whom he feared most, us

or his colleagues; whether he was open to remorse or shame; or whether he meditated further crime. The girl

was incidental. After the first shock of surprise I had soon enough discovered that she, like the rest, had

assumed a disguise; for she was far too innocent to sustain the deception; and yesterday was fresh in my

memory. I was forced to continue turning her assumed character to account; but it would be pharisaical in me

to say that I rose to any moral heights in her regardwine and excitement had deadened my better nature to

that extent. I thought she looked prettier than ever, and, as time passed, I fell into a cynical carelessness about

her. This glimpse of her home life, and the desperate expedients to which she was driven (whether by

compulsion or from her own regard for Davies) to repel and dismiss him, did not strike me as they might

have done as the crowning argument in favour of the course we had adopted the night before, that of

compassing our end without noise and scandal, disarming Dollmann, but aiding him to escape from the allies

he had betrayed. To Davies, the man, if not a pure abstraction, was at most a noxious vermin to be trampled

on for the public good; while the girl, in her blackguardly surroundings, and with her sinister future, had

And the other players? B�hme was my abstraction, the fortress whose foundations we were sapping, the

embodiment of that systematized force which is congenital to the German people. In von Br�ning, the

personal factor was uppermost. Callous as I was this evening, I could not help wondering occasionally, as he

talked and laughed with Clara Dollmann, what in his innermost thoughts, knowing her father, he felt and

meant. It is a point I cannot and would not pursue, and, thank Heaven, it does not matter now; yet, with fuller

knowledge of the facts, and, I trust, a mellower judgement, I often return to the same debate, and, by I know

not what illogical bypaths, always arrive at the same conclusion, that I liked the man and like him still.

We behaved as sportsmen in the matter of time, giving them over two hours to make up their minds about us.

It was only when tobacco smoke and heat brought back my faintness, and a twinge of cramp warned me that

human strength has limits, that I rose and said we must go; that I had to make an early start tomorrow. I am

hazy about the farewells, but I think that Dollmann was the most cordial, to me at any rate, and I augured

good therefrom. B�hme said he should see me again. Von Br�ning, though bound for the harbour also,

'You want to talk us over,' I remember saying, with the last flicker of gaiety I could muster.

We were in the streets again, under a silver, breathless night; dizzily footing the greasy ladder again; in the

cabin again, where I collapsed on a sofa just as I was, and slept such a deep and stringent sleep that the men

of the Blitz's launch might have handcuffed and trussed and carried me away, without incommoding me in

'Goodbye,' the whistle blew and the ferrysteamer forged ahead, leaving Davies on the quay, bareheaded

and wearing his old Norfolk jacket and stained grey flannels, as at our first meeting in Flensburg station.

There was no bandaged hand this time, but he looked pinched and depressed; his eyes had black circles round

'Your friend is in low spirits,' said B�hme, who was installed on a seat beside me, voluminously caped and

'So am I,' I grunted, and it was the literal truth. I was only half awake, felt unwashed and dissipated, heavy in

head and limbs. But for Davies I should never have been where I was. It was he who had patiently coaxed me

out of my bunk, packed my bag, fed me with tea and an omelette (to which I believe he had devoted

peculiarly tender care), and generally mothered me for departure. While I swallowed my second cup he was

brushing the mould and smoothing the dents from my felt hat, which had been entombed for a month in the

saillocker; working at it with a remorseful concern in his face. The only initiative I am conscious of having

shown was in the matter of my bag. 'Put in my sea clothes, oils, and all,' I had said; 'I may want them again.'

There was mortal need of a thorough consultation, but this was out of the question. Davies did not badger or

complain, but only timidly asked me how we were to meet and communicate, a question on which my mind

Before we left the cabin he gave me a scrap of pencilled paper and saw that it went safely into my

Unable to cope with B�hme, I paced the deck aimlessly as we swung round the SeeGat into the Buse Tief,

trying to identify the point where we crossed it yesterday blindfold. But the tide was full, and the waters

blank for miles round till they merged in haze. Soon I drifted down into the saloon, and crouching over a

stove pulled out that scrap of paper. In a crabbed, boyish hand, and much besmudged with tobacco ashes, I

(1) Your journey. Norddeich 8.58, Emden 10.32, Leer 11.16 (B�hme changes for Bremen), Rheine 1.8

(2) The coaststationtheir rondezvousquerry is it Norden? (You pass it 9.13)there is a tidal creek up

to it. Highwater there on 25th, say 10.30 to 11 p.m. It cannot be Norddeich, which I find has a dredgedout

(3) Your other clews (tugs, pilots, depths, railway, Esens, seven of something). Querry; Scheme of defence by

Sea7 islands, 7 channels between (counting West Ems), very small depths (what you said) in most of them.

Tugs and pilots for patrol work behind islands, as I always said. Querry; Rondezvous is for inspecting

LandLook at railway (map in ulster pocket) running in a loop all round Friesland, a few miles from coast.

Querry: To be used as line of communication for army corps. Troops could be quickly sent to any threatened

point. Esens the base? It is in top centre of loop. Von Brooning dished us fairly over that at Bensersiel.

I nodded stupidly over this documentso stupidly that I found myself wondering whether Burmer was a

place or a person. Then I dozed, to wake with a violent start and find the paper on the floor. Panicstricken, I

hid it away, and went on deck, when I found we were close to Norddeich, running up to the bleakest of bleak

jetties thrown out from the dykebound polders of the mainland. B�hme and I landed together, and he was at

my elbow as I asked for a ticket for Amsterdam, and was given one as far as Rheine, a junction near the

Dutch frontier. He was ensconced in an opposite corner to me in the railway carriage, looking like an Indian

idol. 'Where do you come in?' I pondered, dreamily. Too sleepy to talk, I could only blink at him, sitting bolt

upright with my arms folded over my precious pocketbook. Finally, I gave up the struggle, buttoned my

ulster tightly up, and turning my back upon him with an apology, lay down to sleep, the precious pocket

nethermost. He was at liberty to rifle my bag if he chose, and I dare say he did. I cannot say, for from this

point till Rheine, for the best part of four hours, that is, I had only two lucid intervals.

The first was at Emden, where we both had to change. Here, as we pushed our way down the crowded

platform, B�hme, after being greeted respectfully by several persons, was at last buttonholed without means

of escape by an obsequious gentleman, whose description is of no moment, but whose conversation is. It was

about a canal; what canal I did not gather, though, from a name dropped, I afterwards identified it as one in

course of construction as a feeder to the Ems. The point is that the subject was canals. At the moment it was

seed dropped in unreceptive soil, but it germinated later. I passed on, mingling with the crowd, and was soon

The second occasion was at Leer, where I heard myself called by name, and woke to find him at the window.

He had to change trains, and had come to say goodbye. 'Don't forget to go to Lloyd's,' he grated in my ear. I

expect it was a wan smile that I returned, for I was at a very low ebb, and my fortress looked sarcastically

Even after Rheine, where I changed for the last time, a brutish drowsiness enchained me, and the afternoon

The train crept like a snail from station to station. I might, so a fellowpassenger told me, have waited three

hours at Rheine for an express which would have brought me to Amsterdam at about the same time; or, if I

had chosen to break the journey farther back, two hours at either Emden or Leer would still have enabled me

to catch the said express at Rheine. These alternatives had escaped Davies, and, I surmised, had been

suppressed by B�hme, who doubtless did not want me behind him, free either to double back or to follow

The pace, then, was execrable, and there were delays; we were behind time at Hengelo, thirty minutes late at

Apeldoorn; so that I might well have grown nervous about my connexions at Amsterdam, which were in

some jeopardy. But as I battled out of my lethargy and began to take account of our position and prospects,

quite a different thought at the outset affected me. Anxiety to reach London was swamped in reluctance to

quit Germany, so that I found myself grudging every mile that I placed between me and the frontier. It was

the old question of urgency. Today was the 23rd. The visit to London meant a minimum absence of

fortyeight hours, counting from Amsterdam; that is to say, that by travelling for two nights and one day, and

devoting the other day to investigating Dollmann's past, it was humanly possible for me to be back on the

Frisian coast on the evening of the 25th. Yes, I could be at Norden, if that was the 'rendezvous', at 7 p.m. But

what a scramble! No margin for delays, no physical respite. Some pasts take a deal of raking upother

persons may be affected; men are cautious, they trip you up with red tape; or the man who knows is out at

luncha protracted lunch; or in the countrya protracted weekend. Will you see Mr Soandso, or leave

a note? Oh! I know those public departmentsfrom the inside! And the Admiralty! ... I saw myself baffled

and racing back the same night to Germany, with two days wasted, arriving, good for nothing, at Norden,

with no leisure to reconnoitre my ground; to be baffled again there, probably, for you cannot always count on

fogs (as Davies said). Esens was another clue, and 'to follow Burmer'there was something in that notion.

But I wanted time, and had I time? How long could Davies maintain himself at Norderney? Not so very long,

from what I remembered of last night. And was he even safe there? A feverish dream recurred to mea

dream of Davies in a divingdress; of a regrettable hitch in the airsupplyStop, that was nonsense! ... Let

us be sane. What matter if he had to go? What matter if I took my time in London? Then with a flood of

shame I saw Davies's wistful face on the quay, heard his grim ejaculation: 'He's our game or no one's'; and

my own sullen 'Oh, I'll keep the secret!' London was utterly impossible. If I found my informant, what

credentials had I, what claim to confidences? None, unless I told the whole story. Why, my mere presence in

Whitehall would imperil the secret; for, once on my native heath, I should be recognizedpossibly haled to

judgement; at the best should escape in a cloud of rumour'last heard of at Norderney'; 'only this morning

was raising Cain at the Admiralty about a mythical lieutenant.' No! Back to Friesland, was the word. One

night's restI must have thatbetween sheets, on a feather bed; one long, luxurious night, and then back

refreshed to Friesland, to finish our work in our own way, and with none but our own weapons.

Having reached this resolve, I was nearly putting it into instant execution, by alighting at Amersfoort, but

thought better of it. I had a transformation to effect before I returned North, and the more populous centre I

made it in the less it was likely to attract notice. Besides, I had in my mind's eye a perfect bed in a perfect

So, at halfpast eight I was sipping my coffee in the aforesaid hostelry, with a London newspaper before me,

which was unusually interesting, and some German journals, which, 'in hate of a wrong not theirs', were one

and all seething with rancorous Anglophobia. At nine I was in the Jewish quarter, striking bargains in an

infamous marine slopshop. At halfpast nine I was despatching this unscrupulous telegram to my

chief'Very sorry, could not call Norderney; hope extension all right; please write to H�tel du Louvre,

Paris.' At ten I was in the perfect bed, rapturously flinging my limbs abroad in its glorious redundancies. And

at 8.28 on the following morning, with a novel chilliness about the upper lip, and a vast excess of strength

and spirits, I was sitting in a thirdclass carriage, bound for Germany, and dressed as a young seaman, in a

The transition had not been difficult. I had shaved off my moustache and breakfasted hastily in my bedroom,

ready equipped for a journey in my ulster and cloth cap. I had dismissed the hotel porter at the station, and

left my bag at the cloakroom, after taking out of it an umber bundle and substituting the ulster. The umber

bundle, which consisted of my oilskins, and within them my seaboots and a few other garments and

necessaries, the whole tied up with a length of tarry rope, was now in the rack above me, and (with a stout

stick) represented my luggage. Every article in itI shudder at their originwas in strict keeping with my

humble m�tier, for I knew they were liable to search at the frontier customhouse; but there was a Baedeker

For the nonce, if questions were asked, I was an English seaman, going to Emden to join a ship, with a ticket

as far as the frontier. Beyond that a definite scheme of action had still to be thought out. One thing, however,

was sure. I was determined to be at Norden tomorrow night, the 25th. A word about Norden, which is a

small town seven miles south of Norddeich. When hurriedly scanning the map for coast stations in the cabin

yesterday, I had not thought of Norden, because it did not appear to be on the coast, but Davies had noticed it

while I slept, and I now saw that his pencilled hint was a shrewd one. The creek he spoke of, though barely

visible on the map, flowed into the Ems Estuary in a southwesterly direction. The 'night train' tallied to

perfection, for high tide in the creek would be, as Davies estimated, between 10.30 and 11 p.m. on the night

of the 25th; and the timetable showed that the only night train arriving at Norden was one from the south at

10.46 p.m. This looked promising. Emden, which I had inclined to on the spur of the moment, was out of

court in comparison, for many reasons; not the least being that it was served by three trains between 9 p.m.

and 1 a.m., so that the phrase 'night train' would be ambiguous and not decisive as with Norden.

So far good; but how was I to spend the intervening time? Should I act on Davies's 'querry' and go to Bremen

after B�hme? I soon dismissed that idea. It was one to act upon if others failed; for the present it meant

another scramble. Bremen is six hours from Norden by rail. I should spend a disproportionate amount of my

limited time in trains, and I should want a different disguise. Besides, I had already learnt something fresh

about B�hme; for the seed dropped at Emden Station yesterday had come to life. A submarine engineer I

knew him to be before; I now knew that canals were another branch of his laboursnot a very illuminating

There remained Esens, and it was thither I resolved to go tonighta tedious journey, lasting till past eight in

All day long I strove for light on the central mystery, collecting from my diary, my memory, my imagination,

from the map, the timetable, and Davies's grubby jottings, every elusive atom of material. Sometimes I

issued from a reverie with a start, to find a phlegmatic Dutch peasant staring strangely at me over his china

pipe. I was more careful over the German border. Davies's paper I soon knew by heart. I pictured him writing

it with his cramped fist in his corner by the stove, fighting against sleep, absently striking salvos of matches,

while 1 snored in my bunk; absently diverging into dreams, I knew, of a rosebrown face under dewy hair

and a grey tamo'shanter; though not a word of her came into the document. I smiled to see his undying

faith in the 'channel theory' reconciled at the eleventh hour, with new data touching the neglected 'land'.

The result was certainly interesting, but it left me cold. That there existed in the German archives some such

scheme of defence for the North Sea coast was very likely indeed. The seven islands, with their seven

shallow channels (though, by the way, two of them, the twin branches of the Ems, are by no means so

shallow), were a very fair conjecture, and fitted in admirably with the channel theory, whose intrinsic merits I

had always recognized; my constant objection having been that it did not go nearly far enough to account for

our treatment. The ring of railway round the peninsula, with Esens at the apex, was suggestive, too; but the

same objection applied. Every country with a maritime frontier has, I suppose, secret plans of mobilization

for its defence, but they are not such as could be discovered by passing travellers, not such as would warrant

stealthy searches, or require for their elaboration so recondite a meetingplace as Memmert. Dollmann was

another weak point; Dollmann in England, spying. All countries, Germany included, have spies in their

service, dirty though necessary tools; but Dollmann in such intimate association with the principal plotters on

this side; Dollmann rich, influential, a power in local affairsit was clear he was no ordinary spy.

And here I detected a hesitation in Davies's rough sketch, a reluctance, as it were, to pursue a clue to its

logical end. He spoke of a German scheme of coast defence, and in the next breath of Dollmann spying for

English plans in the event of war with Germany, and there he left the matter; but what sort of plans?

Obviously (if he was on the right track) plans of attack on the German coast as opposed to those of strategy

on the high seas. But what sort of an attack? Obviously again, if his railwayring meant anything, an attack

by invasion on that remote and desolate littoral which he had so often himself declared to be impregnably

secure behind its web of sands and shallows. My mind went back to my question at Bensersiel, 'Can this

coast be invaded?' to his denial and our fruitless survey of the dykes and polders. Was he now reverting to a

fancy we had both rejected, while shrinking from giving it explicit utterance? The doubt was tantalizing.

A brief digression here about the phases of my journey. At Rheine 1 changed trains, turned due north and

became a German seaman. There was little risk in a defective accentsailors are so polyglot; while an

English sailor straying about Esens might excite curiosity. Yesterday I had paid no heed to the landscape;

From Rheine to Emden we descended the valley of the Ems; at first through a land of thriving towns and fat

pastures, degenerating farther north to spaces of heathery bog and moorlanda sad country, but looking at

its best, such as that was, for I should mention here that the weather, which in the early morning had been as

cold and misty as ever, grew steadily milder and brighter as the day advanced; while my newspaper stated

that the glass was falling and the anticyclone giving way to pressure from the Atlantic.

At Emden, where we entered Friesland proper, the train crossed a big canal, and for the twentieth time that

day (for we had passed numbers of them in Holland, and not a few in Germany), I said to myself, 'Canals,

canals. Where does B�hme come in?' It was dusk, but light enough to see an unfamiliar craft, a torpedoboat

in fact, moored to stakes at one side. In a moment I remembered that page in the North Sea Pilot where the

EmsJade Canal is referred to as deep enough to carry gunboats, and as used for that strategic purpose

between Wilhelmshaven and Emden, along the base, that is, of the Frisian peninsula. I asked a peasant

opposite; yes, that was the EmsJade Canal. Had Davies forgotten it? It would have greatly strengthened his

At the bookstall at Emden I bought a pocket ordnance map of Friesland, on a much larger scale than anything

I had used before, and when I was unobserved studied the course of the canal, with an impatience which,

alas! quickly cooled. From Emden northwards I used the same map to aid my eyesight, and with its help saw

in the gathering gloom more heaths and bogs once a great glimmering lake, and at intervals cultivated tracts;

a watery land as ever; pools, streams and countless drains and ditches, Extensive woods were marked also,

but farther inland. We passed Norden at seven, just dark. I looked out for the creek, and sure enough, we

crossed it just before entering the station. Its bed was nearly dry, and I distinguished barges lying aground in

it. This being the junction for Esens, I had to wait threequarters of an hour, and then turned east through the

uttermost northern wilds, stopping at occasional village stations and keeping five or six miles from the sea. It

was during this stage, in a wretchedly lit compartment, and alone for the most part, that I finally assembled

all my threads and tried to weave them into a cable whose core should be Esens; 'a town', so Baedeker said,

Esens is four miles inland from Bensersiel. I reviewed every circumstance of that day at Bensersiel, and

boiled to think how von Br�ning had tricked me. He had driven to Esens himself, and read me so well that he

actually offered to take me with him, and I had refused from excess of cleverness. Stay, though; if I had

happened to accept he would have taken very good care that I saw nothing important. The secret, therefore,

was not writ large on the walls of Esens. Was it connected with Bensersiel too, or the country between? I

searched the ordnance map again, standing up to get a better light and less jolting. There was the road

northwards from Esens to Bensersiel, passing through dots and chessboard squares, the former meaning fen,

the latter fields, so the reference said. Something else, too, immediately caught my eye, and that was a stream

running to Bensersiel. I knew it at once for the muddy stream or drain we had seen at the harbour, issuing

through the sluice or siel from which Bensersiel took its name. But it arrested my attention now because it

looked more prominent than I should have expected. Charts are apt to ignore the geography of the mainland,

except in so far as it offers seamarks to mariners. On the chart this stream had been shown as a rough little

corkscrew, like a suckingpig's tail. On the ordnance map it was marked with a dark blue line, was labelled

'Benser Tief', and was given a more resolute course; bends became angles, and there were what appeared to

be artificial straightnesses at certain points. One of the threads in my skein, the canal thread, tingled

sympathetically, like a wire charged with current. Standing astraddle on both seats, with the map close to the

lamp, I greedily followed the course of the 'tief' southward. It inclined away from the road to Esens and

passed the town about a mile to the west, diving underneath the railway. Soon after it took angular tacks to

the eastward, and joined another blue line trending southeast, and lettered 'EsensWittmunde Canal.' This

For the first time that day there came to me a sense of genuine inspiration. Those shallow depths and short

distances, fractions of metres and kilometres, which I had overheard from B�hme's lips at Memmert, and

which Davies had attributed to the outside channelsdid they refer to a canal? I remembered seeing barges

in Bensersiel harbour. I remembered conversations with the natives in the inn, scraps of the postmaster's

pompous loquacity, talks of growing trade, of bricks and grain passing from the interior to the islands: from

another sourcewas it the grocer of Wangeroog?of expansion of business in the islands themselves as

bathing resorts; from another source againvon Br�ning himself, surelyof Dollmann's personal activity in

the development of the islands. In obscure connexion with these things, I saw the torpedoboat in the

It was between Dornum and Esens that these ideas came, and I was still absorbed in them when the train drew

up, just upon nine o'clock, at my destination, and after ten minutes' walk, along with a handful of other

passengers, I found myself in the quiet cobbled streets of Esens, with the great church steeple, that we had so

SELECTING the very humblest Gasthaus I could discover, I laid down my bundle and called for beer, bread,

and Wurst. The landlord, as I had expected, spoke the Frisian dialect, so that though he was rather difficult to

understand, he had no doubts about the purity of my own German high accent. He was a worthy fellow, and

hospitably interested: 'Did I want a bed?' 'No; I was going on to Bensersiel,' I said, 'to sleep there, and take

the morning Postschiff to Langeoog Island.' (I had not forgotten our friends the twin giants and their

functions.) 'I was not an islander myself?' he asked. 'No, but I had a married sister there; had just returned

from a year's voyaging, and was going to visit her.' 'By the way,' I asked, 'how are they getting on with the

Benser Tief?' My friend shrugged his shoulders; it was finished, he believed. 'And the connexion to

Wittmund?' 'Under construction still.' 'Langeoog would be going ahead then?' 'Oh! he supposed so, but he did

not believe in these newfangled schemes.' 'But it was good for trade, I supposed? Esens would benefit in

sending goods by the "tief"what was the traffic, by the way?' 'Oh, a few more bargeloads than before of

bricks, timber, coals, etc., but it would come to nothing he knew: Aktiengesellschaften (companies) were an

invention of the devil. A few speculators got them up and made money themselves out of land and contracts,

while the shareholders they had hoodwinked starved.' 'There's something in that,' I conceded to this bigoted

old conservative; 'my sister at Langeoog rents her lodginghouse from a man named Dollmann; they say he

owns a heap of land about. I saw his yacht oncepink velvet and electric light inside. they say'

'That's the name,' said mine host, 'that's one of themsome sort of foreigner, I've heard; runs a salvage

'Well, he won't get any of my savings!' I laughed, and soon after took my leave, and inquired from a

With a warm wind in my face from the southwest, fleecy clouds and a halfmoon overhead, I set out, not

for Bensersiel but for Benser Tief, which I knew must cross the road to Dornum somewhere. A mile or so of

cobbled causeway flanked with ditches and willows, and running cheek by jowl with the railway track; then a

bridge, and below me the 'Tief'; which was, in fact, a small canal. A rutty track left the road, and sloped down

to it one side; a rough siding left the railway, and sloped down to it on the other.

I lit a pipe and sat on the parapet for a little. No one was stirring, so with great circumspection I began to

reconnoitre the left bank to the north. The siding entered a fenced enclosure by a locked gatea gate I could

have easily climbed, but I judged it wiser to go round by the bridge again and look across. The enclosure was

a small coalstore, nothing more; there were gaunt heaps of coal glittering in the moonlight; a barge half

loaded lying alongside, and a deserted office building. I skulked along a sandy towpath in solitude. Fens and

field were round me, as the map had said; willows and osierbeds; the dim forms of cattle; the low melody of

wind roaming unfettered over a plain; once or twice the flutter and quack of a startled wildduck.

Presently I came to a farmhouse, dark and silent; opposite it. in the canal, a couple of empty barges. I climbed

into one of these, and sounded with my stick on the offsidebarely three feet; and the torpedoboat melted

out of my speculations. The stream, I observed also, was only just wide enough for two barges to pass with

comfort. Other farms I saw, or thought I saw, and a few more barges lying in sidecuts linked by culverts to

the canal, but nothing noteworthy; and mindful that I had to explore the Wittmund side of the railway too, I

Passing under the road and railway, I again followed the towpath, which, after half a mite, plunged into

woods, then entered a clearing and another fenced enclosure; a timberyard by the look of it. This time I

stripped from the waist downward, waded over, dressed again, and climbed the paling. (There was a cottage

standing back, but its occupants evidently slept.) I was in a timberyard, by the stacks of wood and the steam

sawmill; but something more than a timberyard, for as I warily advanced under the shadow of the trees at

the edge of the clearing I came to a long tin shed which strangely reminded me of Memmert, and below it,

nearer the canal, loomed a dark skeleton framework, which proved to be a halfbuilt vessel on stocks. Close

by was a similar object, only nearly completeda barge. A paved slipway led to the water here, and the

canal broadened to a siding or backwater in which lay seven or eight more barges in tiers. I scaled another

paling and went on, walking, I should think, three miles by the side of the canal, till the question of bed and

ulterior plans brought me to a halt. It was past midnight, and I was adding little to my information. I had

encountered a brickfield, but soon after that there was increasing proof that the canal was as yet little used

for traffic. In grew narrower, and there were many signs of recent labour for its improvement. In one place a

dammedoff deviation was being excavated, evidently to abridge an impossible bend. The path had become

atrocious, and my boots were heavy with clay. Bearing in mind the abruptlyending blue line on the map, I

considered it useless to go farther, and retraced my steps, trying to concoct a story which would satisfy an

irritable Esens innkeeper that it was a respectable wayfarer, and not a tramp or a lunatic, who knocked him

But a much more practical resource occurred to me as I approached the timberyard; for lodging, free and

accessible, lay there ready to hand. I boarded one of the empty barges in the backwater, and surveyed my

quarters for the night. It was of a similar pattern to all the others I had seen; a lighter, strictly, in the sense that

it had no means of selfpropulsion, and no separate quarters for a crew, the whole interior of the hull being

free for cargo. At both bow and stern there were ten feet or so of deck, garnished with bitts and bollards. The

rest was an open well, flanked by waterways of substantial breadth; the whole of stout construction and, for a

humble lighter, of wellproportioned and even graceful design, with a marked forward sheer, and, as I had

observed in the specimen on the stocks, easy lines at the stern. In short, it was apparent, even to an ignorant

landsman like myself, that she was designed not merely for canal work but for rough water; and well she

might be, for, though the few miles of sea she had to cross in order to reach the islands were both shallow and

sheltered, I knew from experience what a vicious surf they could be whipped into by a sudden gale. It must

not be supposed that I dwelt on this matter. On limited lines I was making progress, but the wings of

imagination still drooped nervelessly at my sides. Otherwise I perhaps should have examined this lighter

more particularly, instead of regarding it mainly as a convenient hidingplace. Under the sterndeck was

stored a massive roll of tarpaulin, a corner of which made an excellent blanket, and my bundle a good pillow.

It was a descent from the luxury of last night; but a spy, I reflected philosophically, cannot expect a feather

bed two nights running, and this one was at any rate airier and roomier than the coffinlike bunk of the

When snugly ensconced, I studied the map by intermittent matchlight. It had been dawning on me in the last

halfhour that this canal was only one of several; that in concentrating myself on Esens and Bensersiel, I had

forgotten that there were other villages ending in siel, also furnished on the chart with corkscrew streams;

and, moreover, that B�hme's statistics of depth and distance had been marshalled in seven categories, A to G.

The very first match brought full recollection as to the villages. The suffix siel repeated itself all round the

coastline. Five miles eastward of Bensersiel was Neuharlingersiel, and farther on Carolinensiel. Four miles

westward was Dornumersiel; and farther on Nessmersiel and Hilgenriedersiel. That was six on the north coast

of the peninsula alone. On the west coast, facing the Ems, there was only one, Greetsiel, a good way south of

Norden. But on the east, facing the Jade, there were no less than eight, at very close intervals. A moment's

thought and I disregarded this latter group; they had nothing to do with Esens, nor had they any imaginable

raison d'�tre as veins for commerce; differing markedly in this respect from the group of six on the north

coast, whose outlook was the chain of islands, and whose inland centre, almost exactly, was Esens. I still

wanted one to make seven, and as a working hypothesis added the solitary Greetsiel. At all seven villages

streams debouched, as at Bensersiel. From all seven points of issue dotted lines were marked seaward,

intersecting the great tidal sands and leading towards the islands. And on the mainland behind the whole

sevenfold system ran the loop of railway. But there were manifold minor points of difference. No stream

boasted so deep and decisive a blue lintel as did Benser Tief; none penetrated so far into the Hinterland. They

varied in length and sinuosity. Two, those belonging to Hilgenriedersiel and Greetsiel, appeared not to reach

the railway at all. On the other hand, Carolinensiel, opposite Wangeroog Island, had a branch line all to itself.

Match after match waxed and waned as I puzzled over the mystic seven. In the end I puzzled myself to sleep,

with the one fixed idea that tomorrow, on my way back to Norden, I must see more of these budding canals,

if such they were. My dreams that night were of a mighty chain of redoubts and masked batteries couching

perdus among the sanddunes of desolate islets; built, corallike, by infinitely slow and secret labour; fed by

lethal cargoes borne in lighters and in charge of stealthy mutes who, one and all, bore the likeness of Grimm.

I was up and away at daylight (the weather mild and showery), meeting some navvies on my way back to the

road, who gave me good morning and a stare. On the bridge I halted and fell into torments of indecision.

There was so much to do and so little time to do it in. The whole problem seemed to have been multiplied by

seven, and the total again doubled and redoubledseven blue lines on land, seven dotted lines on the sea,

seven islands in the offing. Once I was near deciding to put my pretext into practice, and cross to Langeoog;

At any rate, I wanted breakfast badly; and the best way to get it, and at the same time to open new ground,

was to walk to Dornum. Then I should find a blue line called the Neues Tief leading to Dornumersiel, on the

coast. That explored, I could pass on to Nesse, where there was another blue line to Nessmersiel. All this was

on the way to Norden, and I should have the railway constantly at my back, to carry me there in the evening.

The last train (my timetable told me) was one reaching Norden at 7.15 p.m. I could catch this at Hage

A brisk walk of six miles brought me, ravenously hungry, to Dornum. Road and railway had clung together

all the time, and about halfway had been joined on the left by a third companion in the shape of a puny

stream which I knew from the map to be the upper portion of Neues Tief. Wriggling and doubling like an eel,

choked with sedges and reeds, it had no pretensions to being navigable. At length it looped away into the fens

out of sight, only to reappear again close to Dornum in a much more dignified guise.

There was no siding where the railway crossed it, but at the town itself, which it skirted on the east, a towpath

began, and a piled wharf had been recently constructed. Going on to this was a redbrick building with the

look of a warehouse, roofless as yet, and with workmen on its scaffolds. It sharpened the edge of my appetite.

If I had been wise I should have been content with a snack bought at a counter, but a thirst for hot coffee and

clues induced me to repeat the experiment of Esens and seek a primitive beerhouse. I was less lucky on this

occasion. The house I chose was obscure enough, but its proprietor was no simple Frisian, but an illlooking

rascal with shifty eyes and a debauched complexion, who showed a most unwelcome curiosity in his

customer. As a last fatality, he wore a peaked cap like my own, and turned out to be an exsailor. I should

have fled at the sight of him had I had the chance, but I was attended to first by a slatternly girl who, I am

sure, called him up to view me. To explain my muddy boots and trousers I said I had walked from Esens, and

from that I found myself involved in a tangle of impromptu lies. Floundering down an old groove, I placed

my sister this time on Baltrum Island, and said I was going to Dornumersiel (which is opposite Baltrum) to

cross from there. As this was drawing a bow at a venture, I dared not assume local knowledge, and spoke of

the visit as my first. Dornumersiel was a lucky shot; there was a ferrygalliot from there to Baltrum; but he

knew, or pretended to know, Baltrum, and had not heard of my sister. I grew the more nervous in that I saw

from the first that he took me to be of better condition than most merchant seamen; and, to make matters

worse, I was imprudent enough in pleading haste to pull out from an inner pocket my gold watch with the

chain and seals attached. He told me there was no hurry, that I should miss the tide at Dornumersiel, and then

fell to pressing strong waters on me, and asking questions whose insinuating grossness gave me the key to his

biography: He must have been at one stage in his career a dockside crimp, one of those foul sharks who

prey on discharged seamen, and as often as not are exseamen themselves, versed in the weaknesses of the

tribe. He was now keeping his hand in with me, who, unhappily, purported to belong to the very class he was

used to victimize, and, moreover, had a gold watch, and, doubtless, a full purse. Nothing more ridiculously

inopportune could have befallen me, or more dangerous; for his class are as cosmopolitan as waiters and

concierges, with as facile a gift for language and as unerring a scent for nationality. Sure enough, the fellow

recognized mine, and positively challenged me with it in fairly fluent English with a Yankee twang.

Encumbered with the mythical sister, of course I stuck to my lie, said I had been on an English ship so long

that I had picked up the accent, and also gave him some words in broken English. At the same time I showed

I thought him an impertinent nuisance, paid my score and walked outquit of him? Not a bit of it! He

insisted on showing me the way to Dornumersiel, and followed me down the street. Perceiving that he was in

liquor, in spite of the early hour, I dared not risk a quarrelsome scene with a man who already knew so much

about me, and might at any moment elicit more. So I melted, and humoured him; treated him in a ginshop in

the hope of giving him the slipa disastrous resource, which was made a precedent for further potations

elsewhere. I would gladly draw a veil over our scandalous progress through peaceable Dornum, of the terrors

I experienced when he introduced me as his friend, and as his English friend, and of the abasement I felt, too,

as, linked arm in arm, we trod the three miles of road coastwards. It was his malicious whim that we should

talk English; a fortunate whim, as it turned out, because I knew no fo'c'sle German, but had a smattering of

fo'c'sle English, gathered from Cutcliffe Hyne and Kipling. With these I extemporized a disreputable hybrid,

mostly consisting of oaths and blasphemies, and so yarned of imaginary voyages. Of course he knew every

port in the world, but happily was none too critical, owing to repeated schnappsen.

Nevertheless, it was a deplorable contretemps from every point of view. I was wasting my time, for the road

took a different direction to the Neues Tief, so that I had not even the advantage of inspecting the canal and

only met with it when we reached the sea. Here it split into two mouths, both furnished with locks, and

emptying into two little mudhole harbours, replicas of Bensersiel, each owning its cluster of houses. I made

straight for the Gasthaus at Dornumersiel, primed my companion well, and asked him to wait while I saw

about a boat in the harbour; but, needless to say, I never rejoined him. I just took a cursory look at the

lefthand harbour, saw a lighter locking through (for the tide was high), and then walked as fast as my legs

would carry me to the outermost dyke, mounted it, and strode along the sea westwards in the teeth of a smart

shower of rain, full of deep apprehensions as to the stir and gossip my disappearance might cause if my

odious crimp was sober enough to discover it. As soon as I deemed it safe, I dropped on to the sand and ran

till I could run no more. Then I sat on my bundle with my back to the dyke in partial shelter from the rain,

watching the sea recede from the flats and dwindle into slender meres, and the laden clouds fly weeping over

The barge I had seen locking through was creeping across towards Langeoog behind a tug and a wisp of

No more exploration by daylight! That was my first resolve, for I felt as if the country must be ringing with

reports of an Englishman in disguise. I must remain in hiding till dusk, then regain the railway and slink into

that train to Norden. Now directly I began to resign myself to temporary inaction, and to centre my thoughts

on the rendezvous, a new doubt assailed me. Nothing had seemed more certain yesterday than that Norden

was the scene of the rendezvous, but that was before the seven siels had come into prominence. The name

Norden now sounded naked and unconvincing. As I wondered why, it suddenly occurred to me that all the

stations along this northern line, though farther inland than Norden, were equally 'coast stations', in the sense

that they were in touch with harbours (of a sort) on the coast. Norden had its tidal creek, but Esens and

Dornum had their 'tiefs' or canals. Fool that I had been to put such a narrow and literal construction on the

phrase 'the tide serves!' Which was it more likely that my conspirators would visitNorden, whose intrusion

into our theories was purely hypothetical, or one of these siels to whose sevenfold systems all my latest

There was only one answer; and it filled me with profound discouragement. Seven possible

rendezvous!eight, counting Norden. Which to make for? Out came the timetable and map, and with them

hope. The case was not so bad after all; it demanded no immediate change of plan, though it imported grave

uncertainties and risks. Norden was still the objective, but mainly as a railway junction, only remotely as a

seaport. Though the possible rendezvous were eight, the possible stations were reduced to fiveNorden,

Hage, Dornum, Esens, Wittmundall on one single line. Trains from east to west along this line were

negligible, because there were none that could be called night trains, the latest being the one I had this

morning fixed on to bring me to Norden, where it arrived at 7.15. Of trains from west to east there was only

one that need be considered, the same one that I had travelled by last night, leaving Norden at 7.43 and

reaching Esens at 8.50, and Wittmund at 9.13. This train, as the reader who was with me in it knows, was in

correspondence with another from Emden and the south, and also, I now found, with services from Hanover,

Bremen, and Berlin. He will also remember that I had to wait threequarters of an hour at Norden, from 7 to

The platform at Norden Junction, therefore, between 7.15, when I should arrive at it from the east, and 7.43

when B�hme and his unknown friend should leave it for the east; there, and in that halfhour, was my

opportunity for recognizing and shadowing two at least of the conspirators. I must take the train they took,

and alight where they alighted. If I could not find them at all I should be thrown back on the rejected view

In the meantime it was all very well to resolve on inaction till dusk; but after an hour's rest, damp clothes and

feet, and the absence of pursuers, tempted me to take the field again. Avoiding roads and villages as long as it

was light, I cut across country southwestwardsa dismal and laborious journey, with oozy fens and

kneedeep drains to course, with circuits to be made to pass clear of peasants, and many furtive crouchings

behind dykes and willows. What little I learnt was in harmony with previous explorations, for my track cut at

right angles the line of the Harke Tief, the stream issuing at Nessmersiel. It, too, was in the nature of a canal,

but only in embryo at the point I touched it, south of Nesse. Works on a deviation were in progress, and in a

short digression down stream I sighted another lighterbuilding yard. As for Hilgenriedersiel, the fourth of

the seven, I had no time to see anything of it at all. At seven o'clock I was at Hage Station, very tired, wet,

and footsore, after covering nearly twenty miles all told since I left my bed in the lighter.

From here to Norden it was a run in the train of ten minutes, which I spent in eating some rye bread and

smoked eel, and in scraping the mud off my boots and trousers. Fatigue vanished when the train drew up at

the station, and the momentous twentyeight minutes began to run their course. Having donned a bulky

muffler and turned up the collar of my peajacket, I crossed over immediately to the upplatform, walked

boldly to the bookingoffice, and at once sightedvon Br�ningyes, von Br�ning in mufti; but there was

no mistaking his tall athletic figure, pleasant features, and neat brown beard. He was just leaving the window,

gathering up a ticket and some coins. I joined a queue of three or four persons who were waiting their turn,

flattened myself between them and the partition till I heard him walk out. Not having heard what station he

had booked for, I took a fourthclass ticket to Wittmund, which covered all chances. Then, with my chin

buried in my muffler, I sought the darkest corner of the illlit combination of bar and waitingroom where,

by the tiresome custom in Germany, wouldbe travellers are penned till their train is ready. Von Br�ning I

perceived sitting in another corner, with his hat over his eyes and a cigar between his lips. A boy brought me

a tankard of tawny Munich beer, and, sipping it, I watched. People passed in and out, but nobody spoke to the

sailor in mufti. When a quarter of an hour elapsed, a platform door opened, and a raucous voice shouted:

'Hage, Dornum, Esens, Wittmund!' A knot of passengers jostled out to the platform, showing their tickets. I

was slow over my beer, and was last of the knot, with von Br�ning immediately ahead of me, so close that his

cigar smoke curled into my face. I looked over his shoulder at the ticket he showed, missed the name, but

caught a muttered double sibilant from the official who checked it; ran over the stations in my head, and

pounced on Esens. That was as much I wanted to know for the present; so I made my way to a fourthclass

compartment, and lost sight of my quarry, not venturing, till the last door had banged, to look out of the

window. When I did so two late arrivals were hurrying up to a carriageone tall, one of middle height; both

in cloaks and comforters. Their features I could not distinguish, but certainly neither of them was B�hme.

They had not come through the waitingroom door, but, plainly, from the dark end of the platform, where

they had been waiting. A guard, with some surly remonstrances, shut them in, and the train started.

Esensthe name had not surprised me; it fulfilled a presentiment that had been growing in strength all the

afternoon. For the last time I referred to the map, pulpy and blurred with the day's exposure, and tried to etch

it into my brain. I marked the road to Bensersiel, and how it converged by degrees on the Benser Tief until

they met at the sea. 'The tide serves!' Longing for Davies to help me, I reckoned, by the aid of my diary, that

high tide at Bensersiel would be about eleven, and for two hours, I remembered (say from ten to twelve

We should reach Esens at 8.50. Would they drive, as von Br�ning had done a week ago? I tightened my belt,

stamped my mudburdened boots, and thanked God for the Munich beer. Whither were they going from

Bensersiel, and in what; and how was I to follow them? These were nebulous questions, but I was in fettle for

anything; boatstealing was a bagatelle. Fortune, I thought, smiled; Romance beckoned; even the sea looked

kind. Ay, and I do not know but that Imagination was already beginning to unstiffen and flutter those

AT Esens Station I reversed my Norden tactics, jumped out smartly, and got to the door of egress first of all,

gave up my ticket, and hung about the gate of the station under cover of darkness. Fortune smiled still; there

was no vehicle in waiting at all, and there were only half a dozen passengers. Two of these were the cloaked

gentlemen who had been so nearly left behind at Norden, and another was von Br�ning. The latter walked

well in advance of the first pair, but at the gate on to the high road the three showed a common purpose, in

that, unlike the rest, who turned towards Esens town, they turned southwards; much to my perplexity, for this

was the contrary direction to Bensersiel and the sea. I, with my bundle on my shoulder, had been bringing up

the rear, and, as their faithful shadow, turned to the right too, without foreseeing the consequence. When it

was too late to turn back I saw that, fifty yards ahead, the road was barred by the gates of a level crossing,

and that the four of us must inevitably accumulate at the barrier till the train had steamed away. This, in fact,

happened, and for a minute or two we were all in a group, elaborately indifferent to one another, silent, but I

am sure very conscious. As for me, 'secret laughter tickled all my soul'. When the gates were opened the three

seemed disposed to lag, so I tactfully took my cue, trudged briskly on ahead, and stopped after a few minutes

to listen. Hearing nothing I went cautiously back and found that they had disappeared; in which direction was

not long in doubt, for I came on a grassy path leading into the fields on the left or west of the road, and

I took my bearings collectedly, placed one foot on the path, thought better of it, and turned back towards

Esens. I knew without reference to the map that that path would bring them to the Benser Tief at a point

somewhere near the timberyard. In a fog I might have followed them there; as it was, the night was none too

dark, and I had my strength to husband; and stamped on my memory were the words 'the tide serves'. I judged

it a wiser use of time and sinew to anticipate them at Bensersiel by the shortest road, leaving them to reach it

by way of the devious Tief, to examine which was, I felt convinced, one of their objects.

It was nine o'clock of a fresh wild night, a halo round the beclouded moon. I passed through quiet Esens, and

in an hour I was close to Bensersiel, and could hear the sea. In the rooted idea that I should find Grimm on

the outskirts, awaiting visitors, I left the road short of the village, and made a circuit to the harbour by way of

the seawall. The lower windows of the inn shed a warm glow into the night, and within I could see the

village circle gathered over cards, and dominated as of old by the assertive little postmaster, whose

highpitched, excitable voice I could clearly distinguish, as he sat with his cap on the back of his head and a

'feine schnapps' at his elbow. The harbour itself looked exactly the same as I remembered it a week ago. The

postboat lay in her old berth at the eastern jetty, her mainsail set and her twin giants spitting over the rail. I

hailed them boldly from the shore (without showing them who I was), and was told they were starting for

Langeoog in a few minutes; the wind was offshore, the mails aboard, and the water just high enough. 'Did I

want a passage?' 'No, I thought I would wait.' Positive that my party could never have got here so soon, I

nevertheless kept an eye on the galliot till she let go her sternrope and slid away. One contingency was

eliminated. Some loiterers dispersed, and all port business appeared to be ended for the night.

Threequarters of an hour of strained suspense ensued. Most of it I spent on my knees in a dark angle

between the dyke and the western jetty, whence I had a strategic survey of the basin; but I was driven at times

to relieve inaction by sallies which increased in audacity. I scouted on the road beyond the bridge, hovered

round the lock, and peered in at the inn parlour; but nowhere could I see a trace of Grimm. I examined every

floating object in the harbour (they were very few), dropped on to two lighters and pried under tarpaulins,

boarded a deserted tug and two or three clumsy rowboats tied up to a mooringpost. Only one of these had

the look of readiness, the rest being devoid of oars and rowlocks; a discouraging state of things for a

prospective boatlifter. It was the sight of these rowboats that suggested a last and most distracting

possibility, namely, that the boat in waiting, if boat there were, might be not in the harbour at all, but

somewhere on the sands outside the dyke, where, at this high state of the tide, it would have water and to

spare. Back to the dyke then; but as I peered seaward on the way, contingencies evaporated and a solid fact

supervened, for I saw the lights of a steamboat approaching the harbour mouth. I had barely time to gain my

coign of vantage before she had swept in between the piers, and with a fitful swizzling of her screw was

turning and backing down to a berth just ahead of one of the lighters, and not fifty feet from my hidingplace.

A deckhand jumped ashore with a rope, while the man at the wheel gave gruff directions. The vessel was a

small tug, and the man at the wheel disclosed his identity when, having rung off his engines, he jumped

ashore also, looked at his watch in the beam of the sidelight, and walked towards the village. It was Grimm,

by the height and buildGrimm clad in a long tarpaulin coat and a sou'wester. I watched him cross the shaft

Another sailor now appeared and helped his fellow to tie up the tug. The two together then went aft and

began to set about some job whose nature I could not determine. To emerge was perilous, so I set about a job

of my own, tearing open my bundle and pulling an oilskin jacket and trousers over my clothes, and discarding

my peaked cap for a sou'wester. This operation was prompted instantaneously by the garb of two sailors,

It was something of a gymnastic masterpiece, since I was lyingor, rather, standing aslanton the rough

seawall, with crannies of brick for foothold and the water plashing below me; but then I had not lived in the

Dulcibella for nothing. My chain of thought, I fancy, was thisthe tug is to carry my party; I cannot shadow

a tug in a rowboat, yet I intend to shadow my party; I must therefore go with them in the tug, and the first and

soundest step is to mimic her crew. But the next step was a hard matter, for the crew having finished their job

sat side by side on the bulwarks and lit their pipes. However, a little pantomime soon occurred, as amusing as

it was inspiriting. They seemed to consult together, looking from the tug to the inn and from the inn to the

tug. One of them walked a few paces innwards and beckoned to the other, who in his turn called something

down the engineroom skylight, and then joined his mate in a scuttle to the inn. Even while I watched the

pantomime I was sliding off my boots, and it had not been consummated a second before I had them in my

arms and was tripping over the mud in my stocking feet. A dozen noiseless steps and I was over the bulwarks

between the wheel and the smokestack, casting about for a hidingplace. The conventional stowaway hides

in the hold, but there was only a stokehold here, occupied moreover; nor was there an empty applebarrel,

such as Jim of Treasure Island found so useful. As far as I could seeand I dared not venture far for fear of

the skylightthe surface of the deck offered nothing secure. But on the farther or starboard side, rather abaft

the beam, there was a small boat in davits, swung outboard, to which common sense, and perhaps a vague

prescience of its after utility, pointed irresistibly. In any case, discrimination was out of place, so I mounted

the bulwark and gently entered my refuge. The tackles creaked a trifle, oars and seats impeded me; but well

before the thirsty truants had returned I was settled on the floor boards between two thwarts, so placed that I

The two sailors returned at a run, and very soon after voices approached, and I recognized that of Herr

Schenkel chattering volubly. He and Grimm boarded the tug and went down a companionway aft, near

which, as I peeped over, I saw a second skylight, no bigger than the Dulcibella's, illuminated from below.

Then I heard a cork drawn, and the kiss of glasses, and in a minute or two they reemerged. It was apparent

that Herr Schenkel was inclined to stay and make merry, and that Grimm was anxious to get rid of him, and

none too courteous in showing it. The former urged that tomorrow's tide would do, the latter gave orders to

cast off, and at length observed with an angry oath that the water was falling, and he must start; and, to clinch

matters, with a curt goodnight, he went to the wheel and rang up his engines. Herr Schenkel landed and

strutted off in high dudgeon, while the tug's screw began to revolve. We had only glided a few yards on when

the engines stopped, a short blast of the whistle sounded, and, before I had had time to recast the future, I

heard a scurry of footsteps from the direction of the dyke, first on the bank, next on the deck. The last of these

new arrivals panted audibly as he got aboard and dropped on the planks with an unelastic thud.

Her complement made up, the tug left the harbour, but not alone. While slowly gathering way the hull

checked all at once with a sharp jerk, recovered, and increased its speed. We had something in towwhat?

Now I knew what was in that lighter, because I had been to see, half an hour ago. It was no lethal cargo, but

coal, common household coal; not a full load of it, I rememberedjust a goodsized mound amidships,

trimmed with battens fore and aft to prevent shifting. 'Well,' thought I, 'this is intelligible enough. Grimm was

ostensibly there to call for a load of coal for Memmert. But does that mean we are going to Memmert?' At the

same time I recalled a phrase overheard at the depot, 'Only onehalf a load.' Why half a load?

For some few minutes there was a good deal of movement on deck, and of orders shouted by Grimm and

answered by a voice from far astern on the lighter. Presently, however, the tug warmed to her work, the hull

vibrated with energy, and an ordered peace reigned on board. I also realized that having issued from the

boomed channel we had turned westward, for the wind, which had been blowing us fair, now blew strongly

I peeped out of my eyrie and was satisfied in a moment that as long as I made no noise, and observed proper

prudence, I was perfectly safe until the boat was wanted. There were no deck lamps; the two skylights

diffused but a sickly radiance, and I was abaft the sidelights. I was abaft the wheel also, though thrillingly

near it in point of distanceabout twelve feet, I should say; and Grimm was steering. The wheel, I should

mention here, was raised, as you often see them, on a sort of pulpit, approached by two or three steps and

fenced by a breasthigh arc of boarding. Only one of the crew was visible, and he was acting as lookout in

the extreme bows, the rays of the masthead lightsfor a second had been hoisted in sign of

towageglistening on his oilskin back. The other man, I concluded, was steering the lighter, which I could

And the passengers? They were all together aft, three of them, leaning over the taffrail, with their backs

turned to me. One was short and stoutB�hme unquestionably; the panting and the thud on the planks had

prepared me for that, though where he had sprung from I did not know. Two were tall, and one of these must

be von Br�ning. There ought to be four, I reckoned; but three were all I could see. And what of the third? It

must be he who 'insists on coming', the unknown superior at whose instance and for whose behoof this secret

expedition had been planned. And who could he be? Many times, needless to say, I had asked myself that

question, but never till now, when I had found the rendezvous and joined the expedition, did it become one of

'Any weather' was another of those storedup phrases that were apropos. It was a dirty, squally night, not

very cold, for the wind still hung in the S.S.W.an offshore wind on this coast, causing no appreciable sea

on the shoal spaces we were traversing. In the matter of our bearings, I set myself doggedly to overcome that

paralysing perplexity, always induced in me by night or fog in these intricate waters; and, by screwing round

and round, succeeded so far as to discover and identify two flashing lightsone alternately red and white, far

and faint astern; the other right ahead and rather stronger, giving white flashes only. The first and least

familiar was, I made out, from the lighthouse on Wangeroog; the second, well known to me as our beacon

star in the race from Memmert, was the light on the centre of Norderney Island, about ten miles away.

I had no accurate idea of the time, for I could not see my watch, but I thought we must have started about a

quarter past eleven. We were travelling fast, the funnel belching out smoke and the bowwave curling high;

for the tug appeared to be a powerful little craft, and her load was comparatively light.

So much for the general situation. As for my own predicament, I was in no mood to brood on the hazards of

this mad adventure, a hundredfold more hazardous than my fogsmothered eavesdropping at Memmert. The

crisis, I knew, had come, and the reckless impudence that had brought me here must serve me still and

The behaviour of the passengers struck me as odd. They remained in a row at the taffrail, gazing astern like

regretful emigrants, and sometimes, gesticulating and pointing. Now no vestige of the low land was visible,

so I was driven to the conclusion that it was the lighter they were discussing; and I date my awakening from

the moment that I realized this. But the thread broke prematurely; for the passengers took to pacing the deck,

and I had to lie low. When next I was able to raise my head they were round Grimm at the wheel, engaged, as

far as I could discover from their gestures, in an argument about our course and the time, for Grimm looked

We were heading north, and I knew by the swell that we must be near the Accumer Ee, the gap between

Langeoog and Baltrum. Were we going out to open sea? It came over me with a rush that we must, if we were

to drop this lighter at Memmert. Had I been Davies I should have been quicker to seize certain rigid

conditions of this cruise, which no human power could modify. We had left after high tide. The water

therefore was falling everywhere; and the tributary channels in rear of the islands were slowly growing

impassable. It was quite thirty miles to Memmert, with three watersheds to pass; behind Baltrum, Norderney,

and Juist. A skipper with nerve and perfect confidence might take us over one of these in the dark, but most

of the run would infallibly have to be made outside. I now better understood the protests of Herr Schenkel to

Grimm. Never once had we seen a lighter in tow in the open sea, though plenty behind the barrier of islands;

indeed it was the very existence of the sheltered byways that created such traffic as there was. It was only

Grimm's m�tier and the incubus of the lighter that had suggested Memmert as our destination at all, and I

At this moment, and as if to corroborate my thought, the telegraph rang and the tug slowed down. I effaced

myself and heard Grimm shouting to the man on the lighter to starboard his helm, and to the lookout to

come aft. The next order froze my very marrow; it was 'lower away'. Someone was at the davits of my boat

fingering the tackles; the forward fallrope actually slipped in the block and tilted the boat a fraction. I was

just wondering how far it was to swim to Langeoog, when a strong, imperious voice (unknown to me) rang

out, 'No, no! We don't want the boat. The swell's nothing; we can jump! Can't we, B�hme?' The speaker

ended with a jovial laugh. 'Mercy!' thought I, 'are they going to swim to Langeoog?' but I also gasped for

relief. The tug rolled lifelessly in the swell for a little, and footsteps retreated aft. There were cries of

'Achtung!' and some laughter, one big bump and a good deal of grinding; and on we moved again, taking the

strain of the towrope gingerly, and then fullspeed ahead. The passengers, it seemed, preferred the lighter to

the tug for cruising in; coaldust and exposure to clean planks and a warm cuddy. When silence reigned

again I peeped out. Grimm was at the wheel still, impassively twirling the spokes, with a glance over his

Close on the port hand lay a black foamgirt shape, the east of spit Baltrum. It fused with the night, while we

swung slowly round to windward over the troubled bar. Now we were in the spacious deeps of the North Sea;

At this point evolutions began. Grimm gave the wheel up to the lookout, and himself went to the taffrail,

whence he roared back orders of 'Port!' or 'Starboard!' in response to signals from the lighter. We made one

complete circle, steering on each point of the wind in succession, after that worked straight out to sea till the

water was a good deal rougher, and back again at a tangent, till in earshot of the surf on the island beach.

There the manoeuvres, which were clearly in the nature of a trial trip, ended. and we hove to, to transship our

passengers. They, when they came aboard, went straight below, and Grimm, having steadied the tug on a

settled course and entrusted the wheel to the sailor again, stripped off his dripping oilskin coat, threw it down

on the cabin skylight, and followed them. The course he had set was about west, with Norderney light a

couple of points off the port bow. The course for Memmert? Possibly; but I cared not, for my mind was far

from Memmert tonight. It was the course for England too. Yes, I understood at last. I was assisting at an

experimental rehearsal of a great scene, to be enacted, perhaps, in the near futurea scene when multitudes

of seagoing lighters, carrying full loads of soldiers, not half loads of coals, should issue simultaneously, in

seven ordered fleets, from seven shallow outlets, and, under escort of the Imperial Navy, traverse the North

Indulgent reader, you may be pleased to say that I have been very obtuse; and yet, with humility, I protest

against that verdict. Remember that, recent as arc the events I am describing, it is only since they happened

that the possibility of an invasion of England by Germany has become a topic of public discussion. Davies

and I had neverI was going to say had never considered it; but that would not be accurate, for we had

glanced at it once or twice; and if any single incident in his or our joint cruise had provided a semblance of

confirmation, he, at any rate, would have kindled to that spark. But you will see how perversely from first to

last circumstances drove us deeper and deeper into the wrong groove, till the idea became inveterate that the

secret we were seeking was one of defence and not offence. Hence a complete mental somersault was

required, and, as an amateur, I found it difficult; the more so that the method of invasion, as I darkly

comprehended it now, was of such a strange and unprecedented character; for orthodox invasions start from

big ports and involve a fleet of ocean transports, while none of our clues pointed that way. To neglect obvious

methods, to draw on the obscure resources of an obscure strip of coast, to improve and exploit a quantity of

insignificant streams and tidal outlets, and thence, screened by the islands, to despatch an armada of

lightdraught barges, capable of flinging themselves on a correspondingly obscure and therefore unexpected

portion of the enemy's coast; that was a conception so daring, aye, and so quixotic in some of its aspects, that

even now I was half incredulous. Yet it must be the true one. Bit by bit the fragments of the puzzle fell into

The tug surged on into the night; a squall of rain leapt upon us and swept hissing astern. Baltrum vanished

and the strands of Norderney beamed under transient moonlight. Drunk with triumph, I cuddled in my

rocking cradle and ransacked every unvisited chamber of the memory, tossing out their dusty contents, to

make a joyous bonfire of some, and to see the residue take life and meaning in the light of the great

My reverie was of things, not persons; of vast national issues rather than of the poignant human interests so

closely linked with them. But on a sudden I was recalled, with a shock, to myself, Davies, and the present.

We were changing our course, as I knew by variations in the whirl of draughts which whistled about me. I

heard Grimm afoot again, and, choosing my moment, surveyed the scene. Broad on the portbeam were the

garish lights of Norderney town and promenade, and the tug, I perceived, was drawing in to enter the

Round she came, hustling through the broken water of the bar, till her nose was south and the wind was on

the starboard bow. Not a mile from me were the villa and the yacht, and the three persons of the

Were we to land at Norderney harbour? Heavens, what a magnificent climax!if only I could rise to it. My

work here was done. At a stroke to rejoin Davies and be free to consummate our designs!

A desperate idea of cutting the davittacklesI blush to think of the stupiditywas rejected as soon as it

was born, and instead, I endeavoured to imagine our approach to the pier. My boat hung on the starboard

side; that would be the side away from the quay, and the tide would be low. I could swarm down the davits

during the stir of arrival, drop into the sea and swim the few yards across the dredgedout channel, wade

through the mud to within a short distance of the Dulcibella, and swim the rest. I rubbed the salt out of my

eyes and wriggled my cramped legs ... Hullo! why was Grimm leaving the helm again? Back he went to the

cabin, leaving the sailor at the helm. . . We ought to be turning to port now; but noon we went, south, for

Though one plan was frustrated, the longing to get to Davies, once implanted, waxed apace.

Our destination was at last beyond dispute. The channel we were in was the same that we had cut across on

our blind voyage to Memmert, and the same my ferrysteamer had followed two days ago. It was a

culdesac leading to one place only, the landing stage at Norddeich. The only place on the whole coast,

now I came to think of it, where the tug could land at this tide. There the quay would be on the starboard side,

and I saw myself tied to my eyrie while the passengers landed and the tug and lighter turned back for

There was some way outsome way out, I repeated to myself; some way to reap the fruit of Davies's long

For answer there came the familiar froufrou of gentle surf on drying sands. The swell was dying away, the

channel narrowing; dusky and weird on the starboard hand stretched leagues of newrisen sand. Two men

only were on deck; the moon was quenched under the vanguard clouds of a fresh squall.

A madcap scheme danced before me. The time, I must know the time! Crouching low and cloaking the flame

with my jacket I struck a match; 2.30 a.m.the tide had been ebbing for about three hours and a half. Low

water about five; they would be aground till 7.30. Danger to life? None. Flares and rescuers? Not likely, with

'him who insists' on board; besides, no one could come, there being no danger. I should have a fair wind and a

fair tide for my trip. Grimm's coat was on the skylight; we were both clean shaved.

The helmsman gazed ahead, intent on his difficult course, and the wind howled to perfection. I knelt up and

examined one of the davittackles. There was nothing remarkable about it, a double and a single block (like

our own peak halyards), the lower one hooked into a ring in the boat, the hauling part made fast to a cleat on

the davit itself. Something there must be to give lateral support or the boat would have racketed abroad in the

roll outside. The support, I found, consisted of two lanyards spliced to the davits and rove through holes in

the keel. These I leaned over and cut with my pocketknife; the result being a barely perceptible swaying of

the boat, for the tug was under the lee of sands and on an even keel. Then I left my hidingplace, climbing

out of the stern sheets by the afterdavit, and preparing every successive motion with exquisite tenderness,

till I stood on the deck. In another moment I was at the cabin skylight, lifting Grimm's long oilskin coat. (A

second's yielding to temptation here; but no, the skylight was ground glass, fastened from below. So, on with

the coat, up with the collar, and forward to the wheel on tiptoe.) As soon as I was up to the engineroom

skylight (that is to say, well ahead of the cabin roof) I assumed a natural step, went up to the pulpit and

touched the helmsman on the arm, as I had seen Grimm do. The man stepped aside, grunting something about

a light, and I took the wheel from him. Grimm was a man of few words, so I just jogged his satellite, and

pointed forward. He went off like a lamb to his customary place in the bows, not having dreamtwhy should

he?of examining me, but in him I had instantly recognized one of the crew of the Kormoran.

My ruse developed in all its delicious simplicity. We were, I estimated, about halfway to Norddeich, in the

Buse Tief, a channel of a navigable breadth, at the utmost of two hundred yards at this period of the tide. Two

faint lights, one above the other, twinkled far ahead. What they meant I neither knew nor cared, since the only

use I put them to was to test the effect of the wheel, for this was the first time I had ever tasted the sweets of

command on a steamboat. A few cautious essays taught me the rudiments, and nothing could hinder the

I edged over to starboardthat was the side I had selectedand again a little more, till the glistening back

of the lookout gave a slight movement; but he was a welldrilled minion, with implicit trust in the 'old man'.

Now, hard over! and spoke by spoke I gave her the full pressure of the helm. The lookout shouted a

warning, and I raised my arm in calm acknowledgement. A cry came from the lighter, and I remember I was

just thinking 'What the dickens'll happen to her?' when the end came; a euthanasia so mild and gradual (for

the sands are fringed with mud) that the disaster was on us before I was aware of it. There was just the tiniest

premonitory shuddering as our keel clove the buttery medium, a cascade of ripples from either beam, and the

wheel jammed to rigidity in my hands, as the tug nestled up to her restingplace.

In the scene of panic that followed, it is safe to say that I was the only soul on board who acted with

methodical tranquillity. The lookout flew astern like an arrow, bawling to the lighter. Grimm, with the

passengers tumbling up after him, was on deck in an instant, storming and cursing; flung himself on the

wheel which I had respectfully abandoned, jangled the telegraph, and wrenched at the spokes. The tug listed

over under the force of the tide; wind, darkness, and rain aggravated the confusion.

For my part, I stepped back behind the smoke stack, threw off my robe of office, and made for the boat. Long

and bitter experience of running aground had told me that that was sure to be wanted. On the way I cannoned

into one of the passengers and pressed him into my service; incidentally seeing his face, and verifying an old

conjecture. It was one who, in Germany. has a better right to insist than anyone else.

As we reached the davits there was a report like a pistolshot from the portsidethe towrope parting, I

believe, as the lighter with her shallower draught swung on past the tug. Fresh tumult arose, in which I heard:

'Lower the boat,' from Grimm; but the order was already executed. My ally the Passenger and I had each cast

off a tackle, and slacked away with a run; that done, I promptly clutched the wire guy to steady myself, and

tumbled in. (It was not far to tumble, for the tug listed heavily to starboard; think of our course, and the set of

the ebb stream, and you will see why.) The forward fall unhooked sweetly; but the after one lost play. 'Slack

away,' I called, peremptorily, and felt for my knife. My helper above obeyed; the hook yielded; I filliped

WHEN, exactly, the atmosphere of misunderstanding on the stranded tug was dissipated, I do not know, for

by the time I had fitted the rowlocks and shipped sculls, tide and wind had caught me, and were sweeping me

merrily back on the road to Norderney, whose lights twinkled through the scud in the north. With my first

few strokes I made towards the lighterwhich I could see sagging helplessly to leewardbut as soon as I

thought I was out of sight of the tug, I pulled round and worked out my own salvation. There was an outburst

of shouting which soon died away. Full speed. on a falling tide! They were pinned there for five hours sure. It

was impossible to miss the way, and with my stout allies heaving me forward, I made short work of the

twomile passage. There was a sharp tussle at the last, where the RiffGat poured its stream across my path,

and then I was craning over my shoulder, God knows with what tense anxiety, for the low hull and taper mast

of the Dulcibella, Not there! No, not where I had left her. I pulled furiously up the harbour past a sleeping

'Hush! it's me.' And Davies and I were pawing one another in the dark of the cabin.

'Good Heavens, Carruthers, what the blazes have you done to yourself?' (I suspect I cut a pretty figure after

For a few strenuous minutes we toiled at the sweeps till the Dulcibella was berthed ahead of the steamer, in

'We can wait exactly an hour and a half. Come ashore and knock up Dollmann; we must denounce him, and

get them both aboard; it's now or never. Holy Saints! man, not as you are!' (He was in pyjamas.) 'Sea clothes!'

While he put on Christian attire, I resumed my facts and sketched a plan. 'Are you watched?' I asked.

'Not tonight. Grimm called for them in that tug. I was watching. And, Carruthers. the Blitz is here.'

'Wasn't looking. Her skipper's safe anyway; so's B�hme, so's the Tertium Quid, and so are the Kormoran's

Once more we were traversing the long jetty and the silent streets, rain driving at our backs. We trod on air, I

think; I remember no fatigue. Davies sometimes broke into a little run, muttering 'scoundrel' to himself.

'I was rightonly upside down,' he murmured more than once. 'Always really rightthose channels are the

key to the whole concern. Chatham, our only eastern baseno North Sea base or squadronthey'd land at

'Wild? In a way. So is any invasion. But it's thorough; it's German. No other country could do it. It's all

dawning on meby Jove! It will be at the Washmuch the nearest, and as sandy as this side.'

We found a nightbell at the villa door and rang it lustily. A window aloft opened, and 'A message from

The window shut, and soon after the hall was lighted and the door opened by Dollmann in a dressinggown.

'Good morning, Lieutenant X,' I said, in English. 'Stop, we're friends, you fool!' as the door was flung

'Silence!' he hissed. The sweat stood on his steep forehead and a hectic flush on either cheek, but there was a

smilewhat a smile!on his lips. Motioning us to tread noiselessly (a vain ideal for me), he led the way to

I consulted my watch, and I may say that if my hand was an index to my general appearance, I must have

'We probably understand one another,' I said, 'and to explain is to lose time. We sail for Holland, or perhaps

England, at five at the latest, and we want the pleasure of your company. We promise you immunityon

certain conditions, which can wait. We have only two berths, so that we can only accommodate Miss Clara

besides yourself.' He smiled on through this terse harangue, but the smile froze, as though beneath it raged

'You fools,' he said, 'you confounded meddlesome young idiots; I thought I had done with you. Promise me

immunity? Give me till five? By God, I'll give you five minutes to be off to England and be damned to you,

'A traitor in German service,' said Davies, none too firmly, We were both taken aback by this slashing attack.

'A tr? You pigheaded young marplots! I'm in British service! You're wrecking the work of yearsand on

For an instant Davies and I looked at one another in stupefaction. He liedI could swear he lied; but how

'Very well,' I said, after a moment or two, 'we'll clear outsilence, Davies!as it appears we have acted in

'Thanks to Davies. Under difficulties, of course, but I heard quite enough. You were reporting your English

tourChatham, you know, and the English scheme of attack, a mythical one, no doubt, as you're on the right

side! B�hme and the rest were dealing with the German scheme of defence A to GI heard it allthe seven

islands and the seven channels between them (Davies knows every one of them by heart); and then on land,

the ring of railway, Esens the centre, the army corps to mobilize and entrenchall nugatory, wasted, ha!

'Not so loud, you fiend of mischief!' He turned his back, and made an irresolute pace or two towards the door,

his hands kneading the folds of his dressinggown as they had kneaded the curtain at Memmert. Twice he

began a question and twice broke off. 'I congratulate you, gentlemen,' he said, finally, and with more

composure, facing us again, 'you have done marvels in your misplaced zeal; but you have compromised me

'Thank you,' I broke in. 'We have wasted five minutes, and time presses. We sail at five, andpurely for

'I had the advantage of you at Memmert, in spite of acoustic obstacles. Your friends made an appointment

behind your back, and I, in my misplaced zeal, have taken some trouble to attend it; so that I've had a

working demonstration on another matter, the invasion of England from the seven siels.' (Davies nudged me.)

'No, I should let that pistol alone; and no, I wouldn't ring the bell. You can arrest us if you like, but the

'Do you suppose I haven't taken that precaution? But no names are mentioned.' He gave a sort of groan, sank

'What did you say about immunity, and Clara?' he muttered. 'We're friendswe're friends!' burst out Davies,

with a gulp in his voice. 'We want to help you both.' (Through a sudden mist that filmed my eyes I saw him

impetuously walk over and lay his hand on the other's shoulder.) 'Those chaps are on our track and yours.

X shrank from his touch. 'Tell her? I can't tell her. You tell her, boy.' He was huddling back into his chair.

'Don't make a noise,' said a dazed voice. We left that huddled figure and stole upstairsthickly carpeted

stairs, luckily. The door we wanted was half open, and the room behind it lighted. On the threshold stood a

'What is it, father?' she called in a whisper. 'Whom have you been talking to?' I pushed Davies forward, but

'Hush, don't be frightened,' I said, 'it's I, Carruthers, and Daviesand Davies. May we come in, just for one

I gently widened the opening of the door, while she stepped back and put one hand to her throat.

'Please come to your father,' I said. 'We are going to take you both to England in the Dulcibellanow, at

'I understand not,' she faltered, trembling and cowering in such touching bewilderment that I could not bear to

I heard a little gasp from her. There was a flutter of lace and cambric and she was in his arms, sobbing like a

tired child, her little white feet between his great clumsy seabootsher rosebrown cheek on his rough

'It's past four, old chap,' I remarked, brutally. 'I'm going down to him again. No packing to speak of, mind.

They must be out of this in half an hour.' I stumbled awkwardly on the stairs (again that tiresome film!) and

found him stuffing some papers pellmell into the stove. There were only slumbering embers in it, but he did

not seem to notice that. 'You must be dressed in half an hour,' I said, furtively pocketing a pistol which lay on

'Have you told her? Take her to England, you two boys. I think I'll stay.' He sank into a chair again.

'Nonsense, she won't go without you. You must, for her sakein half an hour, too.'

I prefer to pass that halfhour lightly over. Davies left before me to prepare the yacht for sea, and I had to

bear the brunt of what followed, including (as a mere episode) a scene with the stepmother, the memory of

As for the other two, the girl when I saw her next, in her short boating skirt and tamo'shanter, was a

miracle of coolness and pluck. But for her 1 should never have got him away. And ah! how good it was to be

out in the wholesome rain again, hurrying to the harbour with my two charges, hurrying them down the

greasy ladder to that frail atom of English soil, their first guerdon of home and safety.

Our flight from the harbour was unmolested, unnoticed. Only the first ghastly evidences of dawn were

mingling with the strangled moonlight, as we tacked round the pierhead and headed closereefed down the

RiffGat on the lees of the ebbtide. We had to pass under the very quarter of the Blitz, so Davies said; for,

of course, he alone was on deck till we reached the open sea. Day was breaking then. It was dead low water,

and, far away to the south, between dun swathes of sand, I thought I sawbut probably it was only a

fancytwo black stranded specks. Rail awash, and decks streaming, we took the outer swell and clawed

'Up the Ems on the flood, and to Dutch Delfzyl,' I urged. No, thought Davies; it was too near Germany, and

there was a tidal cut through from Buse Tief. Better to dodge in behind Rottum Island. So on we pressed, past

Memmert, over the Juister Reef and the Corinne's buried millions, across the two broad and yeasty mouths of

the Ems, till Rottum, a wee lonesome wafer of an islet, the first of the Dutch archipelago, was close on the

'We must get in behind that,' said Davies, 'then we shall be safe; I think I know the way, but get the next

chart; and then take a rest, old chap. Clara and I can manage.' (She had been on deck most of the time, as

capable a hand as you could wish for, better far than I in my present state of exhaustion.) I crawled along the

'Where are we?' cried Dollmann, starting up from the lee sofa, where he seemed to have been lying in a sort

of trance. A book, his own book, slipped from his knees, and I saw the frontispiece lying on the floor in a

pool of oil; for the stove had gone adrift, and the saloon was in a wretched state of squalor and litter.

'Off Rottum,' I said, and knelt up to find the chart. There was a look in his eyes that I suppose I ought to have

understood, but I can scarcely blame myself, for the accumulated strain, not only of the last three days and

nights, but of the whole arduous month of my cruise with Davies, was beginning to tell on me, now that

safety and success were at hand. I handed up the chart through the companion, and then crept into the reeling

fo'c'sle and lay down on the spare sailbags, with the thunder and thump of the seas around and above me.

I must quote Davies for the event that happened now; for by the time I had responded to the alarm and

'X came up the companion,' he says, 'soon after you went down. He held on by the runner, and stared to

windward at Rottum, as though he knew the place quite well. And then he came towards us, moving so

unsteadily that I gave Clara the tiller, and went to help him. I tried to make him go down again, but he

"'Give me the helm," he said, half to himself. "Sea's too bad outsidethere's a short cut here."

"'Thanks," I said, "I know this one." (I don't think I meant to be sarcastic.) He said nothing, and settled

himself on the counter behind us, safe enough, with his feet against the leerail, and then, to my

astonishment, began to talk over my shoulder jolly sensibly about the course, pointing out a buoy which is

wrong on the chart (as I knew), and telling me it was wrong, and so on. Well, we came to the bar of the

Schild, and had to turn south for that twisty bit of beating between Rottum and Bosch Flat. Clara was at the

jibsheet, I had the chart and the tiller (you know how absent I get like that); there was a bobble of sea, and

we both had heaps to do, andwellI happened to look round, and he was gone. He hadn't spoken for a

minute or two, but I believe the last thing I heard him say (I was hardly attending at the time, for we were in

the thick of it) was something about a "short cut" again. He must have slipped over quietly ... He had an ulster

That evening, after threading the maze of shoals between the Dutch mainland and islands, we anchored off

the little hamlet of Ostmahorn, gave the yacht in charge of some astonished fishermen, and thence by road

and rail, hurrying still, gained Harlingen, and took passage on a steamer to London. From that point our

personal history is of no concern to the outside world, and here, therefore, I bring this narrative to an end.

It is a copy (in cipher) of a confidential memorandum to the German Government embodying a scheme for

the invasion of England by Germany. It is unsigned, but internal evidence, and the fact that it was taken by

Mr 'Carruthers' from the stove of the villa at Norderney, leave no doubt as to its authorship. For many reasons

it is out of the question to print the textual translation of it, as deciphered; but I propose to give an outline of

Even this must strain discretion to its uttermost limits, and had I only to consider the instructed few who

follow the trend of professional opinion on such subjects, I should leave the foregoing narrative to speak for

itself. But, as was stated in the preface, our primary purpose is to reach everyone; and there may be many

who, in spite of able and authoritative warnings frequently uttered since these events occurred, are still prone

to treat the German danger as an idle 'bogey', and may be disposed, in this case, to imagine that a baseless

A few persons (English as well as German) hold that Germany is strong enough now to meet us

singlehanded, and throw an army on our shores. The memorandum rejects this view, deferring isolated

action for at least a decade; and supposing, for present purposes, a coalition of three Powers against Great

Britain. And subsequent researches through the usual channels place it beyond dispute that this condition was

relied on by the German Government in adopting the scheme. They realized that even if, owing to our widely

scattered forces, they gained that temporary command of the North Sea which would be essential for a

successful landing, they would inevitably lose it when our standing fleets were concentrated and our reserve

ships mobilized. With its seacommunications cut, the prospects of the invading army would be too dubious.

I state it in that mild way, for it seems not to have been held that failure was absolutely certain; and rightly, I

think, in spite of the dogmas of the strategistsfor the ease transcends all experience. No man can calculate

the effect on our delicate economic fabric of a welltimed, wellplanned blow at the industrial heart of the

kingdom, the great northern and midland towns, with their teeming populations of peaceful wageearners. In

this instance, however, joint action (the occasion for which is perhaps not difficult to guess) was distinctly

contemplated, and Germany's r�le in the coalition was exclusively that of invader. Her fleet was to be kept

intact, and she herself to remain ostensibly neutral until the first shock was over, and our own battlefleets

either beaten, or, the much more likely event, so crippled by a hardwon victory as to be incapable of

withstanding compact and unscathed forces. Then, holding the balance of power, she would strike. And the

blow? It was not till I read this memorandum that I grasped the full merits of that daring scheme, under which

every advantage, moral, material, and geographical, possessed by Germany, is utilized to the utmost, and

Two root principles pervade it: perfect organization; perfect secrecy. Under the first head come some general

considerations. The writer (who is intimately conversant with conditions on both sides of the North Sea)

argued that Germany is preeminently fitted to undertake an invasion of Great Britain. She has a great army

(a mere fraction of which would suffice) in a state of high efficiency, but a useless weapon, as against us,

unless transported over seas. She has a peculiar genius for organization, not only in elaborating minute detail,

but in the grasp of a coherent whole. She knows the art of giving a brain to a machine, of transmitting power

to the uttermost cogwheel, and at the same time of concentrating responsibility in a supreme centre. She has

a small navy, but very effective for its purpose, built, trained, and manned on methodical principles, for

defined ends, and backed by an inexhaustible reserve of men from her maritime conscription. She studies and

practises cooperation between her army and navy. Her hands are free for offence in home waters, since she

has no distant network of coveted colonies and dependencies on which to dissipate her defensive energies.

Finally, she is, compared with ourselves, economically independent, having commercial access through her

The writer pauses here to contrast our own situation, and I summarize his points. We have a small army,

dispersed over the whole globe, and administered on a gravely defective system. We have no settled theory of

national defence, and no competent authority whose business it is to give us one. The matter is still at the

stage of civilian controversy. Cooperation between the army and navy is not studied and practised; much

less do there exist any plans, worthy of the name, for the repulse of an invasion, or any readiness worth

considering for the prompt equipment and direction of our home forces to meet a sudden emergency. We

have a great and, in many respects, a magnificent navy, but not great enough for the interests it insures, and

with equally defective institutions; not built or manned methodically, having an utterly inadequate reserve of

men, all classes of which would be absorbed at the very outset, without a vestige of preparation for the

enrolment of volunteers; distracted by the multiplicity of its functions in guarding our colossal empire and

commerce, and conspicuously lacking a brain, not merely for the smooth control of its own unwieldy

mechanism, but for the study of rival aims and systems. We have no North Sea naval base, no North Sea

Fleet, and no North Sea policy. Lastly, we stand in a highly dangerous economical position.

The writer then deals with the method of invasion, and rejects the obvious one at once, that of sending forth a

fleet of transports from one or more of the North Sea ports. He combats especially the idea of making Emden

(the nearest to our shores) the port of departure. I mention this because, since his own scheme was adopted, it

is instructive to note that Emden had been used (with caution) as a red herring by the inspired German press,

when the subject was mentioned at all, and industriously dragged across the trail. His objections to the North

Sea ports apply, he remarks, in reality to all schemes of invasion, whether the conditions be favourable or not.

One is that secrecy is rendered impossibleand secrecy is vital. The collection of the transports would be

known in England weeks before the hour was ripe for striking; for all large ports are cosmopolitan and swarm

with potential spies. In Germany's case, moreover, suitable ships are none too plentiful, and the number

required would entail a large deduction from her mercantile marine. The other reason concerns the actual

landing. This must take place on an open part of the east coast of England. No other objective is even

considered. Now the difficulty of transshipping and landing troops by boats from transports anchored in deep

water, in a safe, swift, and orderly fashion, on an open beach, is enormous. The most hastily improvised

resistance might cause a humiliating disaster. Yet the first stage is the most important of all. It is imperative

that the invaders should seize and promptly intrench a prearranged line of country, to serve as an initial

base. This once done, they can use other resources; they can bring up transports, land cavalry and heavy guns,

pour in stores, and advance. But unless this is done, they are impotent, be their seacommunications never so

The only logical alternative is then propounded: to despatch an army of infantry with the lightest type of

fieldguns in big seagoing lighters, towed by powerful but shallowdraught tugs, under escort of a powerful

composite squadron of warships; and to fling the flotilla, at high tide, if possible, straight upon the shore.

Such an expedition could be prepared in absolute secrecy, by turning to account the natural features of the

German coast. No great port was to be concerned in any way. All that was required was sufficient depth of

water to float the lighters and tugs; and this is supplied by seven insignificant streams, issuing from the

Frisian littoral, and already furnished with small harbours and sluicegates, with one exception, namely, the

tidal creek at Norden; for this, it appeared, was one of the chosen seven, and not, as 'Carruthers' supposed,

Hilgenriedersiel, which, if you remember, he had no time to visit, and which has, in fact, no stream of any

value at all, and no harbour. All of these streams would have to be improved, deepened, and generally

canalized; ostensibly with a commercial end, for purposes of traffic with the islands, which are growing

The whole expedition would be organized under seven distinct subdivisionsnot too great a number in

view of its cumbrous character. Seawards, the whole of the coast is veiled by the fringe of islands and the

zone of shoals. Landwards, the loop of railway round the Frisian peninsula would form the line of

communication in rear of the seven streams. Esens was to be the local centre of administration when the

scheme grew to maturity, but not till then. Every detail for the movement of troops under the seven different

heads was to be arranged for with secrecy and exactitude many months in advance, and from headquarters at

Berlin. It was not expected that nothing would leak out, but care was to be taken that anything that did do so

should be attributed to defensive measuresa standing feature in German mobilization being the

establishment of a corps of observation along the Frisian coast; in fact, the same machinery was to be used,

and its conversion for offence concealed up to the latest possible moment. The same precautions were to be

taken in the preliminary work on the spot. There, four men only (it was calculated) need be in full possession

of the secret. One was to represent the Imperial Navy (a post filled by our friend von Br�ning). Another

(B�hme) was to superintend the six canals and the construction of the lighters. The functions of the third were

twofold. He was to organize what I may call the local labourthat is, the helpers required for embarkation,

the crews of the tugs, and, most important of all, the service of pilots for the navigation of the seven flotillas

through the corresponding channels to the open sea. He must be a local man, thoroughly acquainted with the

coast, of a social standing not much above the average of villagers and fishermen, and he must be ready when

the time was ripe with lists of the right men for the right duties, lists to which the conscription authorities

could when required, give instant legal effect. His other function was to police the coast for spies, and to

report anything suspicious to von Br�ning, who would never be far away. On the whole I think that they

As fourth personage, the writer designates himself, the promoter of the scheme, the indispensable link

between the two nations. He undertakes to furnish reliable information as to the disposition of troops in

England, as to the hydrography of the coast selected for the landing, as to the supplies available in its vicinity,

and the strategic points to be seized. He proposes to be guideinchief to the expedition during transit. And

in the meantime (when not otherwise employed) he was to reside at Norderney, in close touch with the other

three, and controlling the commercial undertakings which were to throw dust in the eyes of the curious.

He speaks of the place 'selected for the landing', and proceeds to consider this question in detail. I cannot

follow him in his review, deeply interesting though it is, and shall say at once that he reduces possible

landingplaces to two, the flats on the Essex coast between Foulness and Brightlingsea, and the Washwith

a decided preference for the latter. Assuming that the enemy, if they got wind of an invasion at all, would

expect transports to be employed, he chooses the sort of spot which they would be least likely to defend, and

which, nevertheless, was suitable to the character of the flotillas, and similar to the region they started from.

There is such a spot on the Lincolnshire coast, on the north side of the Wash, known as East Holland. It is

lowlying land, dyked against the sea, and bordered like Frisia with sandflats which dry off at low water. It

is easy of access from the east, by way of Boston Deeps, a deepwater channel formed by a detached bank,

called the Long Sand, lying parallel to the shore for ten miles. This bank makes a natural breakwater against

the swell from the east (the only quarter to be feared); and the Deeps behind it, where there is an average

depth of thirtyfour feet at lowwater, would form an excellent roadstead for the covering squadron, whose

guns would command the shore within easy range. It is noted in passing that this is just the case where

German firstclass battleships would have an advantage over British ships of the same calibre. The latter are

of just too heavy a draught to navigate such waters without peril, if, indeed, they could enter this roadstead at

all, for there is a bar at the mouth of it with only thirtyone feet at high water, spring tides. The former, built

as they were with a view to manoeuvring in the North Sea, are just within the margin of safety. East Holland

is within easy striking distance of the manufacturing districts, a vigorous raid on which is, the writer urges,

the true policy of an invader. He reports positively that there exist (in a proper military sense) no preparations

whatever to meet such an attack. East Holland is also the nearest point on the British shores to Germany,

excepting the coast of Norfolk; much nearer, indeed, than the Essex flats alluded to, and reached by a simple

deepsea passage, without any dangerous region to navigate, like the mouth of the Channel and the estuary of

the Thames from Harwich westwards. The distance is 240 seamiles, west by south roughly, from Borkum

Island, and 280 from Wangeroog. The time estimated for transit after the flotillas had been assembled outside

Embarkation is the next topic. This could and must be effected in one tide. At the six siels there was a mean

period of two and a half hours in every twelve, during which the water was high enough. At Norden a rather

longer time was available. But this should be amply sufficient if the machinery were in good working order

and were punctually set in motion. High water occurs approximately at the same time at all seven outlets, the

difference between the two farthest apart, Carolinensiel and Greetsiel, being only half an hour.

Lastly, the special risks attendant on such an expedition are dispassionately weighed. X, though keenly

anxious to recommend his scheme, writes in no blindly sanguine spirit. There are no modern precedents for

any invasion in the least degree comparable to that of England by Germany. Any such attempt will be a

hazardous experiment. But he argues that the advantages of his method outweigh the risks, and that most of

the risks themselves would attach equally to any other method. Whatever skill in prediction was used, bad

weather might overtake the expedition. Yes; but if transports were used transhipment into boats for landing

would in bad weather be fraught with the same and a greater peril. But transports could stand off and wait.

Delay is fatal in any case; unswerving promptitude is the essence of such an enterprise. The lighters would be

in danger of foundering? Beside the point; if the end is worth gaining the risks must be faced. Soldiers' lives

are sacrificed in tens of thousands on battlefields. The flotilla would be demoralized during transit by the

assault of a few torpedoboats? Granted; but the same would apply to a fleet of transports, with the added

certainty that one lucky shot would send to the bottom ten times the number of soldiers, with less hope of

rescue. In both cases reliance must be placed on the efficiency and vigilance of the escort. It is admitted,

however, in a passage which might well make my two adventurers glow with triumph, that if by any

mischance the British discovered what was afoot in good time, and were able to send over a swarm of

lightdraught boats, which could elude the German warships and get amongst the flotillas while they were

still in process of leaving the siels; it is admitted that in that case the expedition was doomed. But it is held

that such an event was not to be feared. Reckless pluck is abundant in the British Navy, but expert knowledge

of the tides and shoals in these waters is utterly lacking. The British charts are of no value, and there is no

evidence (he reports) that the subject has been studied in any way by the British Admiralty. Let me remark

here, that I believe Mr 'Davies's' views, as expressed in the earlier chapters, when they were still among the

great estuaries, are all absolutely sound. The 'channel theory', though it only bore indirectly on the grand issue

before them, was true, and should be laid to heart, or I should not have wasted space on it.

One word more, in conclusion. There is an axiom, much in fashion now, that there is no fear of an invasion of

the British Isles, because if we lose command of the sea, we can be starveda cheaper and surer way of

reducing us to submission. It is a loose, valueless axiom, but by sheer repetition it is becoming an article of

faith. It implies that 'command of the sea' is a thing to be won or lost definitely; that we may have it today

and lose it for ever tomorrow. On the contrary, the chances are that in anything like an even struggle the

command of the sea will hang in the balance for an indefinite time. And even against great odds, it would

probably be impossible for our enemies so to bar the avenues of our commerce, so to blockade the ports of

our extensive coastline, and so to overcome the interest which neutrals will have in supplying us, as to bring

us to our knees in less than two years, during which time we can be recuperating and rebuilding from our

No; the better axiom is that nothing short of a successful invasion could finally compel us to make peace. Our

hearts are stout, we hope; but facts are facts; and a successful raid, such as that here sketched, if you will

think out its consequences, must appal the stoutest heart. It was checkmated, but others may be conceived. In

IT so happens that while this book was in the press a number of measures have been taken by the

Government to counteract some of the very weaknesses and dangers which are alluded to above. A

Committee of National Defence has been set up, and the welcome given to it was a truly extraordinary

comment on the apathy and confusion which it is designed to supplant. A site on the Forth has been selected

for a new North Sea naval basean excellent if tardy decision; for ten years or so must elapse before the

existing anchorage becomes in any sense a 'base'. A North Sea fleet has also been createdanother good

measure; but it should be remembered that its ships are not modern, or in the least capable of meeting the

Lastly, a Manning Committee has (among other matters) reported vaguely in favour of a Volunteer Reserve.

There is no means of knowing what this recommendation will lead to; let us hope not to the fiasco of the last

badly conceived experiment. Is it not becoming patent that the time has come for training all Englishmen