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Title: Danger! and Other Stories


Author: Arthur Conan Doyle



Release Date: August 19, 2007  [eBook #22357]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)


***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DANGER! AND OTHER STORIES***

Transcribed from the 1918 John Murray edition by David Price, email [email protected]

DANGER!
AND OTHER STORIES

BY ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

author of
“the white company,” “sir nigel”
“rodney stone,” etc.

LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.
1918

All Rights Reserved

PREFACE

The Title story of this volume was written about eighteen months before the outbreak of the war, and was intended to direct public attention to the great danger which threatened this country.  It is a matter of history how fully this warning has been justified and how, even down to the smallest details, the prediction has been fulfilled.  The writer must, however, most thankfully admit that what he did not foresee was the energy and ingenuity with which the navy has found means to meet the new conditions.  The great silent battle which has been fought beneath the waves has ended in the repulse of an armada far more dangerous than that of Spain.

It may be objected that the writer, feeling the danger so strongly, should have taken other means than fiction to put his views before the authorities.  The answer to this criticism is that he did indeed adopt every possible method, that he personally approached leading naval men and powerful editors, that he sent three separate minutes upon the danger to various public bodies, notably to the Committee for National Defence, and that he touched upon the matter in an article in The Fortnightly Review.  In some unfortunate way subjects of national welfare are in this country continually subordinated to party politics, so that a self-evident proposition, such as the danger of a nation being fed from without, is waved aside and ignored, because it will not fit in with some general political shibboleth.  It is against this tendency that we have to guard in the future, and we have to bear in mind that the danger may recur, and that the remedies in the text (the only remedies ever proposed) have still to be adopted.  They are the sufficient encouragement of agriculture, the making of adequate Channel tunnels, and the provision of submarine merchantmen, which, on the estimate of Mr. Lake, the American designer, could be made up to 7,000 ton burden at an increased cost of about 25 per cent.  It is true that in this war the Channel tunnels would not have helped us much in the matter of food, but were France a neutral and supplies at liberty to come via Marseilles from the East, the difference would have been enormous.

Apart from food however, when one considers the transports we have needed, their convoys, the double handling of cargo, the interruptions of traffic from submarines or bad weather, the danger and suffering of the wounded, and all else that we owe to the insane opposition to the Channel tunnels, one questions whether there has ever been an example of national stupidity being so rapidly and heavily punished.  It is as clear as daylight even now, that it will take years to recover all our men and material from France, and that if the tunnel (one will suffice for the time), were at once set in hand, it might be ready to help in this task and so free shipping for the return of the Americans.  One thing however, is clear.  It is far too big and responsible and lucrative an undertaking for a private company, and it should be carried out and controlled by Government, the proceeds being used towards the war debt.

Arthur Conan Doyle.

August 24th,
Crowborough.

I.  DANGER! [1]
BEING THE LOG OF CAPTAIN JOHN SIRIUS

It is an amazing thing that the English, who have the reputation of being a practical nation, never saw the danger to which they were exposed.  For many years they had been spending nearly a hundred millions a year upon their army and their fleet.  Squadrons of Dreadnoughts costing two millions each had been launched.  They had spent enormous sums upon cruisers, and both their torpedo and their submarine squadrons were exceptionally strong.  They were also by no means weak in their aerial power, especially in the matter of seaplanes.  Besides all this, their army was very efficient, in spite of its limited numbers, and it was the most expensive in Europe.  Yet when the day of trial came, all this imposing force was of no use whatever, and might as well have not existed.  Their ruin could not have been more complete or more rapid if they had not possessed an ironclad or a regiment.  And all this was accomplished by me, Captain John Sirius, belonging to the navy of one of the smallest Powers in Europe, and having under my command a flotilla of eight vessels, the collective cost of which was eighteen hundred thousand pounds.  No one has a better right to tell the story than I.

I will not trouble you about the dispute concerning the Colonial frontier, embittered, as it was, by the subsequent death of the two missionaries.  A naval officer has nothing to do with politics.  I only came upon the scene after the ultimatum had been actually received.  Admiral Horli had been summoned to the Presence, and he asked that I should be allowed to accompany him, because he happened to know that I had some clear ideas as to the weak points of England, and also some schemes as to how to take advantage of them.  There were only four of us present at this meeting—the King, the Foreign Secretary, Admiral Horli, and myself.  The time allowed by the ultimatum expired in forty-eight hours.

I am not breaking any confidence when I say that both the King and the Minister were in favour of a surrender.  They saw no possibility of standing up against the colossal power of Great Britain.  The Minister had drawn up an acceptance of the British terms, and the King sat with it before him on the table.  I saw the tears of anger and humiliation run down his cheeks as he looked at it.

“I fear that there is no possible alternative, Sire,” said the Minister.  “Our envoy in London has just sent this report, which shows that the public and the Press are more united than he has ever known them.  The feeling is intense, especially since the rash act of Malort in desecrating the flag.  We must give way.”

The King looked sadly at Admiral Horli.

“What is your effective fleet, Admiral?” he asked.

“Two battleships, four cruisers, twenty torpedo-boats, and eight submarines,” said the Admiral.

The King shook his head.

“It would be madness to resist,” said he.

“And yet, Sire,” said the Admiral, “before you come to a decision I should wish you to hear Captain Sirius, who has a very definite plan of campaign against the English.”

“Absurd!” said the King, impatiently.  “What is the use?  Do you imagine that you could defeat their vast armada?”

“Sire,” I answered, “I will stake my life that if you will follow my advice you will, within a month or six weeks at the utmost, bring proud England to her knees.”

There was an assurance in my voice which arrested the attention of the King.

“You seem self-confident, Captain Sirius.”

“I have no doubt at all, Sire.”

“What then would you advise?”

“I would advise, Sire, that the whole fleet be gathered under the forts of Blankenberg and be protected from attack by booms and piles.  There they can stay till the war is over.  The eight submarines, however, you will leave in my charge to use as I think fit.”

“Ah, you would attack the English battleships with submarines?”

“Sire, I would never go near an English battleship.”

“And why not?”

“Because they might injure me, Sire.”

“What, a sailor and afraid?”

“My life belongs to the country, Sire.  It is nothing.  But these eight ships—everything depends upon them.  I could not risk them.  Nothing would induce me to fight.”

“Then what will you do?”

“I will tell you, Sire.”  And I did so.  For half an hour I spoke.  I was clear and strong and definite, for many an hour on a lonely watch I had spent in thinking out every detail.  I held them enthralled.  The King never took his eyes from my face.  The Minister sat as if turned to stone.

“Are you sure of all this?”

“Perfectly, Sire.”

The King rose from the table.

“Send no answer to the ultimatum,” said he.  “Announce in both houses that we stand firm in the face of menace.  Admiral Horli, you will in all respects carry out that which Captain Sirius may demand in furtherance of his plan.  Captain Sirius, the field is clear.  Go forth and do as you have said.  A grateful King will know how to reward you.”

I need not trouble you by telling you the measures which were taken at Blankenberg, since, as you are aware, the fortress and the entire fleet were destroyed by the British within a week of the declaration of war.  I will confine myself to my own plans, which had so glorious and final a result.

The fame of my eight submarines, Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Theta, Delta, Epsilon, Iota, and Kappa, have spread through the world to such an extent that people have begun to think that there was something peculiar in their form and capabilities.  This is not so.  Four of them, the Delta, Epsilon, Iota, and Kappa, were, it is true, of the very latest model, but had their equals (though not their superiors) in the navies of all the great Powers.  As to Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and Theta, they were by no means modern vessels, and found their prototypes in the old F class of British boats, having a submerged displacement of eight hundred tons, with heavy oil engines of sixteen hundred horse-power, giving them a speed of eighteen knots on the surface and of twelve knots submerged.  Their length was one hundred and eighty-six and their breadth twenty-four feet.  They had a radius of action of four thousand miles and a submerged endurance of nine hours.  These were considered the latest word in 1915, but the four new boats exceeded them in all respects.  Without troubling you with precise figures, I may say that they represented roughly a twenty-five per cent. advance up on the older boats, and were fitted with several auxiliary engines which were wanting in the others.  At my suggestion, instead of carrying eight of the very large Bakdorf torpedoes, which are nineteen feet long, weigh half a ton, and are charged with two hundred pounds of wet gun-cotton, we had tubes designed for eighteen of less than half the size.  It was my design to make myself independent of my base.

And yet it was clear that I must have a base, so I made arrangements at once with that object.  Blankenberg was the last place I would have chosen.  Why should I have a port of any kind?  Ports would be watched or occupied.  Any place would do for me.  I finally chose a small villa standing alone nearly five miles from any village and thirty miles from any port.  To this I