Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 139, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 June 1915 — ALWAYS DUTY FIRST [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

ALWAYS DUTY FIRST

By FRANK FILSON.

(Copyright. 1915. by W. Q. Chapman.) Lieutenant von Retzow had only glanced mechanically at the list of ships which his commanding officer had given him when he took his submarine out of Cuxhaven. Now, reading it, he felt his body grow rigid with horror. He took a letter from his pocket—one which had arrived from America via Italy only two weeks before. It was from Miss Lucy Bainbridge of Cincinnati,. O. Miss Bainbridge was just an ordinary American girl, but the only one in life for Von Retzow. He bad decided this when they met in New York, while he was attache to the flagship of the visiting German squadron; and Miss Lucy, after long deliberation, had written —well, that she wasn’t su?e, but she was coming to England, and possibly she would slip over to. Holland with her aunt, and, of course, if he had leave of absence during this dreadful war . . . Lieutenant von Butzow looked at the list of ships expected in British waters during the wenk that he was to be absent He was to torpedo as many of these as possible, lying on the bottom of the sea between exploits, to gain time and remain in safety. And at the head of the list was the Mariamne, on which Miss Bainbridge was to sail. His instructions were explicit ones. He was to torpedo every merchant ship within sight of his section of the British seacoast. He was to think nothing of the lives of those aboard. He was to dive as soon as he had launched his missile upon its deadly path, and to withdraw, leaving the luckless passengers and crew to perish. The Mariamne was due to arrive off the Scilly coast in a few hours. Lieutenant von Retzow, standing at

the wheel, felt'the sweat pour down his face. He stared out miserably across the waters. To send the woman he loved to death among those waves seemed the act of a devil. Yfet that was his duty, and he must carry it out or —return with his task unaccomplished, to face 'disgrace and ruin. He lay in wait Just out of view of the Scillles, dipping, rising again, or floating almost submerged, with periscope above the waters, searching for the doomed passenger vessel. She was due to sight the Scillles at about four In the afternoon, and precisely at four he saw the line of smoke upon the horizon, and, through his glasses, the two funnels of the Abercromby line. - ■— -- • He shouted down the engine tube and ran awash toward the ship. No other craft was upon the sea; every one had scurried lute security, in fear of the raids. The Mariamne was now clearly in view, listing a little as she rolled in the troughs. Evidently the presence of the submarine was entirely unsuspected by her as she made her way slowly toward the Cornish coast. It was the bitterness of death for Von Retzow. During the few minutes in which the periscope crept up toward the Mariamne he lived over again those days in America, when he had begun to realize his love for Lucy, her dawning love for him. Duty bad carried him away, but he had written to her at last, unable to postpone learning of his fate. He believed she cared for him; he had felt sure that she was coming to Europe in the expectation of meeting him. He had written to’ her once: “I would give my life for you. Your life is ever sacred to me —will ever be." And now, like a cowardly murderer, he was creeping up on the track of the vessel that carried her, resolved to sink her, murder his sweetheart coldly, deliberately. There could be no chance of rescue out of the trough of the Atlantic billows. “The torpedo is in the launching tube, sir!” called up his aide from below; Von Retzow trembled; he could not gather voice to answer. He was not more than half a mile from the Mariamne now; she was almost broadside on, and the submarine had maneuvered herself so that her nose pointed due along the course that the torpedo must take to strike.

Von Retzow hesitated. Then he heard his voice give the command to fire. Through the periscope Von Retzow saw the white track of the torpedo through the waves as the released airbubbles came to the surface. Then, almost immediately, there came the dull boom of the striking torpedo. Von Retzow shoute*’ the command to rise. The submarine came up, first at the bow, then at the stern. And, an instant later, the water was whipped white with plunging shell. The submarine, pierced through and through by some unseen assailant, sank like a stone. Von Retzow had been standing alone upon the bridge. The waves caused by the destruction of the little craft swept him into the sea. As he struck out he saw before him the broken timbers of the torpedoed craft and a new British torpedo-boat destroyer, with guns trained, making briskly toward him. He was seen; a boat was lowered, and, almost at the same time that the last of the wrecked ship sank beneath the waves, Von Retzow was hauled, struggling fitfully for breath, aboard the rescuing boat by the crew. A few minutes later he stood before the commander of the little torpedo boat. “I am sorry, sir. The fortune of war, you know,” said the young officer, rather sheepishly, stretching out his hand to Von Retzow. “Will you come into my cabin?" he added, leading the way. “You are, of course, paroled during the short voyage to England. I believe we can make you comfortable —dry, at any rate,” he s>ld. In the cabin Von Retzow still looked fixedly at the other. “Are you not going to hang me?" he asked. The British officer protested feebly. “Listen,” said Von Retzow. “I will tell you something, to show you what duty means to us German officers. The woman I love and expect to marry was aboard the Mariamne. I was ordered to sink her —and I sank her, according to my instructions. But I tell you that it will haunt me for the rest of my days.” To his amazement the young English officer, who had been regarding him with an expression decidedly quizzical, interposed laughingly: “I may as well relieve your mind, sir,” he said. “The Mariamne was aware of your amiable intentions and slipped in by another route yesterday. The old tramp that you torpedoed was a decoy Mariamne. She hadn’t a soul aboard, and —well, we were lying in wait for you upon her leeward side. , So, I’m glad to say that your fears were groundless, and if anything can be done to make you comfortable —” Von Retzow wrung his hands and danced like a crazy man, up and down in the cabin. “Yes,” he shouted. “Take me to England aa quick as you can. I —l’ve got to find out whether the Mariamne has let off her passengers yet.”

The Mariamne Was Now Clearly In View.