CHAPTER XXX

The Victorious White Ensign

"Kenneth, old man, wake up!"

Everest opened his eyes listlessly. Aroused in the midst of the sleep of utter exhaustion, he did not at once realize his surroundings.

"What's up?" he asked drowsily, with a suspicion of resentment in his voice.

"Come out into the cockpit," said Rollo. "I want you to see if we are on the right course. We passed the tramp steamer some time ago."

"Then why didn't you call me?" demanded Kenneth, displaying considerable alacrity, and making a dash for the cabin door.

"Stay here a little longer, Yvonne," said Rollo to the Belgian girl as she began to follow her patient. The lad's chief anxiety was to keep her in ignorance of the new danger that threatened them.

"Right as rain," announced Kenneth, glancing at the compass.

"Look astern, old man," said his chum in a low voice. "I didn't want to alarm Yvonne. Thelma knows, though. That torpedo-boat coming up hand over fist is a German."

"Never!" ejaculated Kenneth. The idea of a war vessel flying the Kaiser's black-cross ensign on the high seas seemed incredible.

"Fact," rejoined Rollo. "Take this telescope."

"You're right, by Jove!" exclaimed Kenneth after a brief survey. "We must carry on as long as we can. If they fire at us we must stop, for the sake of the girls."

The motor was running at its utmost possible number of revolutions, yet the boat was no match for the grey-painted craft now a mile and a half astern.

The German torpedo-boat made no sign of firing; she merely hung on doggedly in the wake of the motor-craft, slowly yet surely diminishing the distance between them. The haze had now lifted considerably, so that the range of vision extended for quite five miles. All around, save for the pursuing craft, the horizon was unbroken.

"Perhaps those chaps think that their rotten spy, Jules de la Paix, is on board," suggested Rollo. "They may have a prearranged plan to pick him up at sea."

"Should hardly think so," replied Kenneth. "It would have been easier for him to have run across to Dutch territory, if he hadn't the heart to remain at Antwerp during the bombardment. If that's whom they're after they'll be jolly disappointed."

"They'll spot our uniforms, if they haven't already done so," said Rollo. "I wish the beggars would be stopped by a submarine."

Kenneth did not reply. Seized by an inspiration, he grasped one of the two boat-hooks on deck, released it from its lashings, and tossed it overboard.

"What have you done that for?" asked his chum.

Kenneth pointed to the staff of the boat-hook. Weighted down by the gun-metal head, it was bobbing up and down in a vertical position some yards astern.

"That may give them a bit of a shock," he explained. "They may think it's a periscope of a submarine."

"It's much too small."

"Not when there are no means of comparing it with anything else. Look at it now. You couldn't say with certainty within a hundred yards how far it is away. Anyhow, we'll chance it."

The German torpedo-boat had hoisted four signal-flags to her cross-yards. They were blowing out in a fore-and-aft direction.

"Can't make them out," declared Kenneth, "and wouldn't understand them if I did. Now, watch."

Suddenly two spurts of flame burst from the deck of the pursuing boat. Shells from her three-pounder quick-firers pitched a short distance on her starboard side. Simultaneously the torpedo-boat swung round. Travelling at twenty-seven knots, the sudden porting of her helm caused her to heel outwards till her deck was almost awash.

"By Jove, she's rammed our boat-hook!" shouted Kenneth enthusiastically. "If ever she gets back to port, won't she pitch a yarn about ramming and sinking a British submarine!"

The lad was not wrong in his surmise, for the torpedo-boat slowed down and made a complete circle, steaming over the spot where she imagined the periscope to have been. Luckily the ruse was not discovered, for a chance shot had shattered the boat-hook staff and had sent the weighted end to the bottom; while, on the other hand, the motor-boat had gained at least two miles on her pursuer.

"It's worth while throwing our remaining boat-hook overboard," said Rollo. "I don't suppose we'll want it in any case."

The German torpedo-boat had now resumed the pursuit. Obviously fearing the presence of other submarines she kept a zigzag course, altering her helm every five minutes in order to confuse the aim of a possible torpedo-gunner. Consequently, although she still overhauled her quarry, the distance between them lessened with perceptible slowness.

Ten minutes from the time of resuming her course the torpedo-boat fired her bow gun. The plugged shell, purposely aimed wide, threw up a column of spray a hundred yards from the motor-boat's port quarter.

The lads exchanged glances. Kenneth leant forward and switched off the ignition.

"Hard lines!" he ejaculated. "If it weren't for the girls----"

While the boat still carried way he put the helm hard over, until her bows pointed in the direction of her captor. Dejectedly the crew awaited the arrival of the torpedo-boat, wondering what course the Germans would pursue.

"Look!" exclaimed Thelma, excitedly pointing to the hostile craft.

The sight that met their gaze was an inspiring one. From somewhere at a great distance away a shell had hurtled through the air. Striking the water within twenty yards of its objective, the missile had ricochetted, and had shattered the torpedo-boat's foremost funnel.

Another and another followed in quick succession, both bursting over the deck of the doomed vessel.

The Germans replied, firing with great vigour, but the crew of the motor-boat could form no idea of what they were firing at or the result of their efforts. In five minutes the torpedo-boat was badly holed for'ard and making water fast.

"The cowardly skunks!" exclaimed Kenneth, frantically restarting the motor. The epithet was justifiable, for the commander of the torpedo-boat was endeavouring to use the little motor-boat as a screen from her enemy's fire.

Owing to the already crippled condition of the German craft, Kenneth could easily out-manoeuvre her. In spite of the risk of a shell from the exasperated Teuton, he kept his vessel about half a mile from the torpedo-boat and awaited the inevitable ending.

It was not long in coming. Torn by the well-aimed shells, her mast, funnels, and deck fittings swept clean away, the torpedo-boat settled down. From amidships a cloud of black smoke, tinged with lurid flames, soared skywards. Men were pouring up from the engine-room and throwing themselves into the sea.

The other craft had ceased firing. She was coming up quickly, and could now be distinguished as a British E-class destroyer.

Suddenly the doomed vessel gave a roll to starboard, flung her stern in the air, and with her triple propellers racing madly, disappeared from sight, leaving a heavy pall of smoke to mark the spot when she sank.

"We must pick up those fellows," announced Kenneth, pointing to about twenty heads bobbing in the water. "I'll slow down as close as I can. Mind your wrist, Rollo."

Three minutes later all the crew of the motor-boat were busily engaged in hauling half-drowned, and for the most part wounded, German seamen into their craft, till eleven men, the sole survivors of the luckless torpedo-boat, were rescued.

"You Belgians?" asked one, in broken French, when he saw the lads' uniforms. "Good! We surrender to you."

"You'll be transferred to that vessel," said Kenneth, pointing to the now close British destroyer.

"No, they will shoot us," exclaimed the terrified man.

"Nonsense!" replied Kenneth. "British seamen are not like----" He was on the point of saying "Germans", but pulled himself up and added "pirates".

Nevertheless the German seamen were not easily reassured. Their officers had impressed upon them that the British navy took no prisoners, and they firmly believed it.

"Motor-boat ahoy! What craft is that?" sang out a lieutenant, as the British destroyer reversed her engines and came to a standstill at her own length from the little vessel. It was a grand, inspiring sight to the refugees to see the White Ensign floating proudly from the mast-heads of the destroyer. Practically untouched in her duel with her antagonist, she looked as spick and span as when she first commissioned at Chatham Dockyard, only a week previously.

"We're British in the Belgian service: refugees from Antwerp," replied Kenneth.

"We thought you were one of our Motor-boat Reserve craft in difficulties," said the officer. "Luckily we heard the firing, and closed to investigate. We'll take charge of your prisoners; can you run alongside?"

Stalwart bluejackets, stripped to their singlets, and grimy stokers crowded to the stanchion rails to watch the transhipment of the captured Germans.

"Do you want a passage back to Sheerness?" asked the lieutenant.

"If you wouldn't mind taking my sister and her friend," replied Kenneth, "we'll stick to the motor-boat."

"But you're both wounded," exclaimed the officer. "Come aboard, all of you. We'll make you as comfortable as we can, considering we are cleared for action."

"But the boat?" protested Kenneth; for, having carried them so far, it seemed hard lines that she would have to be abandoned.

"Don't worry about that," said the lieutenant. "I'll put an artificer and a couple of men aboard, and let them run her into the Medway."

The genial officer courteously assisted Thelma and Yvonne over the side. Rollo followed with a fair amount of agility, considering his disabled wrist. Lastly Kenneth left his first command.

As he gained the corticened decks of the destroyer he pulled himself up and thankfully saluted the diminutive quarter-deck, on which floated the White Ensign--the emblem of freedom. Then a grey mist swam before his eyes and he felt himself falling.

* * * * *

Two days later there was a happy reunion at an hotel at Sheerness. Summoned by telegraph, all the members of the Barrington and Everest families who were not employed on active service hastened to welcome home their young heroes. With them came Major Resimont, now well on the road to recovery, and for the time being a guest of Mr. Everest.

"I should think you lads have had enough of this terrible war," remarked Mrs. Everest at the conclusion of their narrative.

"We've only seen the beginning," declared Kenneth gravely. "As soon as this little hurt of mine has healed, I want to go back."

"And I too," added Rollo.

Colonel Barrington flushed with pride.

"Of course," he said, "it ought to be a fairly simple matter, considering your experience, to get a commission. It is merely a case of applying to the War Office."

"And undergoing six months' training at home, pater?"

"Presumably."

"By that time the war may be over," said Kenneth. "In any case we will be out of it for six months. What do you say, Rollo?"

"We've put our hand to the plough, old man. I vote, as soon as we are able, we rejoin our old regiment. The 9th of the Line is now between Ostend and Nieuport, sir?"

"I believe so," replied Major Resimont.

"Then that settles it, unless our people raise serious objection," declared Kenneth resolutely. "As long as we have health and strength we will take our places with our comrades of the 9th, until Belgium is freed from the grey-clad troops of Germany."

BLACKIE'S STORIES OF SCHOOL LIFE

_Illustrated. In attractive wrapper_

By RICHARD BIRD

Trouble at Wyndham. Boys of Dyall's House. Captain of Keynes. Dawson's Score. Thanks to Rugger. The Moreleigh Mascot. Carton's Cap. Play the Game, Torbury! The Big Five at Ellerby. Touch and Go.

By ALFRED JUDD

Forrester's Fag. Derry of Dunn's House.

By R. A. H. GOODYEAR

Tom at Tollbar School. Forge of Foxenby.

By WALTER RHOADES

Jimmy Cranston's Crony. The Whip Hand. Two Scapegraces.

George Goes One Better. Jeffrey Havilton. Godfrey Gets There. Arthur O. Cooke. On the Ball. Sydney Horler. George Pulls It Off. Jeffrey Havilton. Planter Dick. Arthur O. Cooke. Barnston's Big Year. Michael Poole. Harold Comes to School. Jeffrey Havilton. Out of School. Jeffrey Havilton. The Captain of Stannard's. Michael Poole.

BOOKS FOR BOYS AND GIRLS

_Crown 8vo. Illustrated_

Sleuths of the Air. Percy F. Westerman. On Secret Service. Ralph Arnold. Binkie of IIIB. Evelyn Smith. A Madcap Brownie. Sibyl B. Owsley. Septima at School. Evelyn Smith. The Corsair of the Skies. Guy Vercoe. Seven Sisters at Queen Anne's. Evelyn Smith. Hope's Tryst. Bessie Marchant. Held at Ransom. Bessie Marchant. Smuggler's Luck. Frank Charleston. Dispatch Riders. Percy F. Westerman. The Little Betty Wilkinson. Evelyn Smith. The Disappearing Dhow. Percy F. Westerman. The Good Ship "Golden Effort". Percy F. Westerman. Barbara at School. Josephine Elder. Biddy and Quilla. Evelyn Smith. A Lively Bit of the Front. Percy F. Westerman. Pam and the Countess. E. E. Cowper. Rounding Up the Raider. F. Bayford Harrison. A Lad of Grit. Percy F. Westerman. The Liveliest Term at Templeton. Richard Bird. Dr. Jolliffe's Boys. Lewis Hough.

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End of Project Gutenberg's The Dispatch-Riders, by Percy F. Westerman