Primal Spillane: Early Stories 1941-1942

Spook Ship

Shaded by a light curtain of mist, the round dial of the moon’s face sent a ghostly sheen of light down to dance in an eerie manner on the slick surface of the Windward Passage. Little green lights bubbled here and there as a school of jellyfish slid silently forward, their deadly tentacles spread to snare an unwary fish.

To one side of the Passage was Haiti, the land of jungle drums and black magic, and far to the other was Cuba. No sound drifted across the waters, nor was there likely to be any, for this was a danger spot. Countries were at war, and prowling about like great beasts of death were enemy submarines, seeking out the life line of ships to blast them to bits. Even the tiny, glowing ash of cigarette held by a careless seaman was a beacon of impending doom that would be picked up instantly by the strong eye of a submarine.

Commander Kurt Von Ehrlich glued his eye to the vision plate of the periscope and turned it slightly to the left. Something disturbed the calm that lay over the sea, and he peered intently into the glass trying to catch it. Then it came again. About four miles off, the tell-tale streamer of smoke from a funnel drifted across the yellow glare of the moon. Quickly, he turned to his subordinate. “Steamer crossing dead ahead. Step up to full speed and prepare torpedoes!”

“Yes, sir!” The order relayed itself through the ship. Men jumped to stations and waited expectantly. Propellers churned madly, shooting the sub forward at the target. Von Ehrlich muttered to himself.

“Stupid fools! One would think that these boats would travel in convoy, but no! They try to outwit the cream of the undersea flotilla by sailing alone. This will teach them a lesson! Only this time there will be no survivors left to tell the story!”

The U-119 neared its objective; the lethal charges in the tubes were ready. To this day, this undersea boat had run up a remarkable score of victories. For months it had roamed the vast expanse of the Atlantic and Caribbean, sinking ship after ship. Hardly a man escaped the raking gunfire that followed after the lifeboats went over the sides, for once a torpedo struck, the sub surfaced and blasted away at the survivors. Von Ehrlich was not one to feel any sympathy for men left stranded on the ocean!

Now the steamer was a dark blob in the sights. For a moment the mist cleared, and the rusted old hulk stood out clearly in the pale light of the moon. No glimmer of reflected light came through the darkened portholes, nor was there any sign of life aboard. Von Ehrlich pondered over this a moment. Surely there should be a lookout in the tower, or someone on the bridge! The water behind the craft was still, and the tip of a propeller blade stuck above the surface like a ghostly finger!

A trap... that’s what it was, a trap to snare a careless U-boat! Ehrlich took a steady bead. “Fire! Bow torpedoes off!”

A twin stream of bubbles shot up. A pair of monster messengers of destruction leaped toward the mark. The commander grinned. A dead shot like this would take care of any doubts he might have regarding the vessel. In a moment it would be a worthless mass of scrap iron falling to the bottom!

Seconds passed... then minutes. Certainly, at this range, he could not have missed... it was a ridiculous thought! But nothing happened! The men were waiting restlessly for the sound of the explosions.

“Reload forward torpedo tubes!”

The missiles went home, and the men stood by the firing button. This time there would be no miss, the ship was only a scant two hundred yards off!

“Fire!”

Again the torpedoes charged out and tore across the sea. Ehrlich could see their trail plainly, and they were heading directly for the center of the tramp streamer. One moment more... but again there were no explosions! Ehrlich threw down his cap with all the fury that was in him. What was this anyway? It was impossible. Those four torpedoes would have hit their mark easily. An old tub like this one would never carry a device to ward them off. He could not understand it. Why didn’t the ship move? Why was there no life aboard her? What made those torpedoes miss? It was incredible!

“To the surface!” He shouted, “I will blast her with the deck guns. No Allied boat will get away from me! For two wars I have given chase to enemy boats, and never a one escaped me. There will not be a first time, either!”

Ah, yes. For two wars he had been the killer of the seas. Death had been his favorite sport. Blasting ships and gunning the helpless survivors. Ofttimes the less-hardened men of his crew had grown sick at the sight of the wanton killing, but he, the great Ehrlich, had shown no emotion except pleasure. He thought over the time he had sent to the bottom that other tramp steamer in 1917. Its cargo had been horses, and when a torpedo had ripped its side off, those animals that had not died swam desperately toward the submarine. Then he shot them. Their pitiful cries went unheard, but his teeth were bared in a huge grin.

When the stupid fool of a sailor tried to stop him, he shot him, too. Nothing would ever interfere with his sport of killing! What did a hold full of animals mean to him... or the life of a person? Quickly his thoughts of the past came to an end as the nose of the sub broke the surface. He jumped to the conning tower and spun the wheel, opening the hatch. Behind him the crew clambered up the iron ladder and hopped to the deck, their heels making hollow clacking sounds against the plates.

In a moment the cover was off the froward gun. Ehrlich himself crouched behind the sights while the others rammed a shell home into the breech. Straight ahead was the tramp. Six shells and the ship would go down. But why didn’t the fools move? The sub was in plain sight! By rights the lookout should have spotted it as they were surfacing!

Then... BLAM! And there was no sound of the shell crashing into the hull! But there was a hole in her all right. Again Ehrlich sent a shot off, but still there was no sound... only the unearthly sight of the hole appearing as if by magic! The crew stirred uneasily. They were a superstitious lot, and wanted nothing of this. One of the men starting forward.

“Sir...” he began uncertainly.

Ehrlich didn’t move.

“Perhaps it would be better if...”

With a lightning-like movement Ehrlich spun around.

“Silence, pig! So... you are afraid of the tub, eh? You think maybe it is infested with ghosts! You are all stupid fools. I can see in your eyes that you are afraid. This can be explained. It can be nothing other than a freak of sound!”

“But the torpedoes...” one sailor broke in.

“Enough! We will find out later. This may even be a derelict, but what it is doing in the Passage I don’t know! Prepare to board her!”

Even as he said this, Ehrlich detected a faint, far-away odor in the air. Something very familiar, it was. But no matter! The men got a collapsible rubber boat over the side and stood waiting for orders.

The commander eyed them. “Well, go on, what are you waiting for?”

Six sailors pushed off. By this time the sub had drifted within a hundred feet of the steamer. A faint wisp of smoke... or could it be the mist... rose from the funnel. The sides were red rust, and weeds of the sea gave it a greenish hue in spots. Ehrlich felt himself shudder. That smell... there it was again. It struck a note in his memory, but he could not place it. The men saw him sniffing and looked at him peculiarly.

A shout came from the men in the rubber boat. One threw up a hook with a rope attached and it caught on the rail. In a moment the others scrambled up the line. One came to the rail and called, “Sir, there is nothing here, nothing but... death I can feel it!”

“Nonsense!” Ehrlich roared. “Stay there, we’re coming alongside!”

The sub moved in closer, then swung around until it lay alongside of the steamer. A clammy chill crept over the commander. Something about this boat... and the way it smelt... sweet, like the smell of new mown hay. And in that was the faint odor of... horses! That was it! He looked up quickly... and this was the boat... the very same one! No, no, it couldn’t be possible! But there was the name on the side... the J. Dudley! Ehrlich screamed... he was going insane!

The men grabbed him by the arms and shook him. Those on deck slid down and got onto the sub. Ehrlich regained his composure and shouted for them to get below... they were getting out of here! But before anyone could move... it happened. The tramp steamer looming above started to topple! A great creaking of old metal rasped into the night. Men screamed in anguish and jammed in the conning tower. Ehrlich alone stood on the deck, his eyes wide with fear. The sub could not get away in time... the men went wild with panic!

And then... screaming into his ears came the frenzied whinnies of hundreds of horses. Like a crowd of lost souls, they bleated out their plaintive cry. The killer of the seas was rooted to the spot. Every moment of that day in the distant past come back to him... those horses, swimming for their lives. The shots, and the way they went under.

The steamer was over him then... and his thoughts ended. With a terrible crashing of metal against metal, the steamer went over on the U-boat! Debris shot into the air. For a moment there was a whirlpool as they both went down. Then all was still. An oil-soaked commander’s cap floated to the surface. The killer of the seas was gone!

Beside the cap were four torpedoes, their power spent from pushing against the mat of seaweed on the ship’s side, a mat so thick and soft that the charges had nothing to set them off. What brought that ship up from the ocean’s bottom? Who knows... perhaps the sealed compartments held enough air to refloat it when enough metal rusted off. Or perhaps it was something else...!