When Terence recovered his senses he was lying in a crofter's cottage. A white-haired venerable dame was busying herself with a large iron pot over a peat fire, while an old fisherman, her husband, was spreading the lieutenant's clothes to dry. The reek of the peat and the vapour of the steaming garments seemed to fill the confined space.
Through the diamond panes of the small window Aubyn could see the heads and shoulders of several of his men. The devoted tars, having been provided with dry clothes of weird fit by their poor but hospitable hosts, were mounting an impromptu guard outside the cottage in order to hear the news of their popular young officer's return to consciousness.
Terence sat up. As he did so he became aware of a throbbing pain in his left hip and leg, while he noticed that his left arm was roughly bandaged. Fearful lest his leg should be broken, he raised his knee. Although it caused him agony he realized to his intense satisfaction that he was capable of moving it.
Hearing him move the old fisherman spoke to him, and although Terence could not understand one word of the broad Shetland dialect the lieutenant guessed rightly that the man wanted to know whether the patient would like to see those of his crew who were disconsolately lingering outside in spite of the howling wind.
In trooped the seamen; seven burly and extremely diffident specimens of the Royal Naval Reserve, who, slow of speech except when amongst themselves, could hardly find means to express their thoughts. They did not know whether to congratulate their temporary skipper on his escape or to commiserate with him on his injuries.
"How is Mr. Raeburn, Griffiths?" asked Terence.
The Welsh petty-officer fidgeted with his hands, attempted to reply, but at last turned with mild entreaty to his comrades.
"Fairish, sir, only fairish," vaguely declared another. "But how's yourself, sir, if we may make so bold as to ask?"
"Stiff, bruised, but otherwise all right, I think," replied Terence. "And awfully peckish. Have you men been fed?"
"Yes, sir, we were victualled down at the village," announced the man. "They did us right well. They say as how we'll have to hang about on this island till the gale moderates; but they've communicated with the authorities at Lerwick, sir, and the senior officer is going to send a vessel to pick us up."
Dismissing his men Terence contrived to borrow some clothes from his humble yet kindly hosts, and making his way with considerable difficulty to an upstairs room, proceeded to dress.
Considering the terrific buffeting he had received Aubyn had come off pretty lightly. He was black and blue from his shoulders to his knees, his forehead was grazed through coming in contact with the rock, and there was a clean cut across his cheek. Rigged out in rough ill-fitting Shetland tweeds, his chin and cheeks black with a stubble of forty-eight hours' growth, he looked anything but a spruce officer of his Majesty's Service.
His efforts to borrow a razor were fruitless. His host had never shaved in the whole course of his existence, and he was now over eighty years of age. Nor did he know of any of his neighbours who would be in a position to oblige his guest.
Having found out where Kenneth had been taken, Terence went to see him. He had to traverse nearly half a mile of bleak moorland, over which the wind blew with great force. Shelter there was not, except a few stunted thorns and patches of gorse.
Looking seawards the vista was a turmoil of broken water, divided by the Island of Fetlar. Close under its lee the sea was comparatively calm, but owing to the tidal race, the "Sound" or intervening channel seemed too violent for any craft to navigate in safety.
Cautiously the lieutenant approached the brink of the cliff and looked down to the cauldron of foam beneath. The tide had ebbed considerably. Fang-like rocks showed their jagged heads above the breakers for nearly a quarter of a mile off shore. It seemed marvellous how the almost waterlogged "Roldal" had contrived to be swept over those dangerous rocks. In vain he looked for traces of his first independent command: the ship had literally gone to pieces.
After considerable difficulty Terence succeeded in finding the little cottage to which his chum had been taken. A big-boned, gaunt-featured man answered his knock, and without betraying the faintest surprise at his visitor's garb, invited him into the room. The Shetlander asked no questions; he seemed to know Aubyn's business. Like the rest of the islanders, most of whom had played a prominent part in the rescue of the survivors of the "Roldal," he already know the officers and most of the men by sight.
Impressed by the gravity of the man's manner, Terence fully expected to find his chum in a desperate plight, but to his surprise he was greeted by an outburst of laughter.
"Excuse me, old man," exclaimed Kenneth, "but you do look a sketch! Who's your tailor? And are you about to cultivate a torpedo beard?"
"How's that arm of yours?" asked Aubyn.
"Feels a bit rotten," admitted Kenneth, "or rather, I can't feel it at all. It seems a bit numb. But it will be all right in a day or so, I guess. It was a real plucky thing of yours, old man. Looked like a case of attempted suicide, when you cut that rope.
"I should have felt like your murderer if I hadn't," retorted Aubyn. "But it's over and done with. We're lucky to get ashore. By the by, I suppose you know that they're sending a steamer from Lerwick as soon as the weather moderates?"
Terence could not talk rationally. He touched upon half a dozen subjects in as many minutes. His mind was full of sorrow for his chum's misfortune. He knew what Raeburn was yet to learn: that the lack of sensitiveness in Kenneth's arm meant that never again would his chum be able to use the limb.
Raeburn's sanguineness was most pathetic. He had fully made up his mind to get to Leith and await the "Strongbow's" return. He rehearsed the little scene he would have when Smithers restored to him his cherished pipe.
Two days later the sea moderated sufficiently for the shipwrecked men to be taken to Lerwick. Here they were split up. The German reservists were sent into detention quarters to await the decision of the War Office as to their disposal; the Norwegians, whose indignation towards the apostles of kultur showed no signs of abatement, were forwarded to Aberdeen, whence they were permitted to return to their native land, while the detachment of the 'Strongbow' were given a passage as far as Dingwall, whence they were told to proceed by train to Leith.
Kenneth Raeburn did not go with them. Upon arrival at Lerwick he was promptly taken to hospital. A preliminary examination resulted in the doctors' seriously considering the advisability of amputating his wounded arm, but upon a further consultation it was found that there was a possibility of saving the limb, although it would be practically useless for the rest of his life.
Raeburn was not told of this. In spite of his disappointment at not being allowed to go with the rest of the prize crew his optimism was remarkable.
"Can't understand why those doctors insist upon keeping me here, old man," he remarked to Terence, when the lieutenant came to bid him good-bye. "I feel as fit as a fiddle, except for the long-winded business over my arm, you know. And it's rotten not being able to see the 'Strongbow' come into port. You'll take good care to remind Smithers to send along that pipe of mine, won't you?"
"I won't forget," asserted Terence.
"And another thing," continued Kenneth. "If you get a chance to go to Edinburgh you might look up my tailor—you know, the fellow in the Hogmarket—and get him to knock me up another No. 5 rig. I can't possibly present myself in this shabby uniform when I have to report myself for duty. Explain to him that my arm is crocked and I can't write at the present moment."
The lieutenant could not commit himself to reply. Gripping Raeburn's left hand he bade him "buck up," and made an undignified retreat from the man who was never again to wear the uniform of the R.N.R.
Throughout the tedious journey to Leith, Aubyn was on tenterhooks, for he was a day and a half overdue. During that time the "Strongbow" might have arrived, coaled, and put to sea again, without waiting for the men who had formed the prize crew of the "Roldal."
As the train swept across the Forth Bridge, Terence anxiously scanned the shipping below, on the off-chance of "spotting" his ship should she by any possibility leave the open roadstead and ascend the Firth.
At Leith he ordered his men to fall in and marched them down to the harbour. Inquiries of various naval officers elicited no information of the "Strongbow's" presence. Almost all of the people he questioned were convinced that the armed merchant-cruiser had not put in an appearance.
Allowing the men to "stand easy," Terence made his way to the office of the admiral commanding the Forth division of the auxiliary cruisers. On sending in his card he was received by the admiral in person.
"We've had no news of the 'Strongbow' for the last three days," said the admiral. "She is now forty-eight hours' overdue."
"Has anything happened to her, sir?" asked Terence.
"There is no saying. On Tuesday we received a wireless from her, reporting all well and giving her position. From that hour till now there has been a complete blank. Of course, she may have had to stand by a prize, and if her wireless has broken down her silence is explicable. However, I wish you to say nothing about the matter. Send your men to the 'Sailors' Home' and report yourself here at noon. Remember to leave your telephone number at the office as soon as you have completed your hotel arrangements, so that, if necessary, we can send for you."
Terence carried out these instructions and resigned himself for a disquieting wait. Something serious, he argued, must have befallen the armed merchant-man. He was somewhat reassured when, on giving his men orders to proceed to temporary shore quarters, the prize crew expressed astonishment neither by word nor gesture. His peace of mind would have been greatly disturbed, however, could he but have heard the men discussing the "Strongbow's" non-appearance amongst themselves.
Upon making his third call at the office Terence was again received by the admiral. The sturdy old officer's face was grave.
"I'm afraid it's a case, Mr. Aubyn," he said. "The 'Strongbow's' hopelessly overdue. I have just reported her to the Admiralty as regarded as lost. You had better proceed on leave, and I will notify Whitehall accordingly."
Terence almost reeled out into the street. The blow had temporarily unnerved him. Not one thought did he give at the time to the fact that Raeburn and he had been almost miraculously preserved from sharing the fate of their gallant comrades: his whole mind was centred on the appalling disaster.
He mentally pictured the old ship ploughing along in that terrific gale. A staunch vessel such as she was would have made light of the climatic conditions. It was fairly safe to conclude that she had been sunk either by a mine or a torpedo—and sunk so suddenly that there had been no time to send out a wireless call for aid. The state of the sea, he knew, would render it impossible to lower the boats even had there been time. Out in the wild North Sea, miles from land, and with no means of recording her end in the course of duty, the "Strongbow" had vanished utterly.
He thought of his comrades. The cool and collected Captain Ripponden; Commander Ramshaw, one of the very best; Lymore, taciturn, yet a man who set duty on a high pedestal; slow and deliberate McBride, and more than a dozen others. All of them, tried comrades in stress and storm, had given up their lives for their country. Only Raeburn and he were left—and Raeburn incapacitated for further service afloat.
Verily, the "price of Admiralty" is a huge one, but men will ever be found ready to comply with its demands.
"Good business! Now there's a chance of seeing life!" exclaimed Lieutenant Aubyn.
"I should have thought you have been seeing plenty of life already, Terence," remarked his mother, with a faint tinge of reproachfulness, "and death also," she added.
"Ay, and death," agreed Terence. "Unfortunately, yes; but it's part of the work. It was the future to which I was referring. Fancy, mother, a real cruiser at last—not an armed merchantman, nor a destroyer, although I'll admit I had a real good time in the 'Terrier'—but a modern cruiser."
Terence's appointment had arrived in the form of an Admiralty telegram, ordering him to join H.M.S. "Sunderland" as soon as possible.
H.M.S. "Sunderland" was a light cruiser of the "Town" Class, a vessel of a little over 5000 tons displacement, and armed with eight 6-in. guns, four 3-pounders, and two submerged 21-in. torpedo tubes. Her speed was nominally 25 knots, but this rate had been considerably exceeded when conditions called for her to do her level best.
Accordingly, within four hours of receiving his appointment, Terence bade his parent farewell and proceeded by rail to Devonport, where the "Sunderland" was lying. It was nearly dark when he alighted at Millbay station. Here he called a taxi and was whirled off to the Dockyard, whence a picquet boat conveyed him to the cruiser, which was lying at a buoy in the Hamoaze.
"We're off under sealed orders at six o'clock tomorrow morning," announced one of his new shipmates, a junior lieutenant, Teddy Barracombe by name. "Of course, we are quite in the dark, but there's a strong idea floating around that the ship's off to the Near East. Just my mark! According to all accounts we'll be pretty busy in the Dardanelles."
"That's all very fine for you," commented Oswestry, the torpedo lieutenant, "but where do I come in? We can't use torpedoes against fortifications, you know, and there's precious little floating about for us to go for."
"Don't take on, Torps," said Barracombe cheerfully. "You never know your luck. Wait and see."
"I'd rather t'were the other way about," corrected Torps. "Seeing your torpedo leave the tube and waiting for the enemy ship to be blown up. No Dardanelles for me. So I hope to goodness it's the North Sea. By Jove, I do!"
As soon as the "Sunderland" was clear of the breakwater the momentous orders were opened. It was not to the Near East; the cruiser had to proceed to Dover and await further instructions.
All the way up Channel a rigorous watch was maintained, for hostile submarines had made their presence unpleasantly felt off Prawle Point, the Bill of Portland, and south of the Royal Sovereign Lightship. The cruiser pelted under forced draught, steering a zig-zag course in order to baffle the carefully-planned calculations of the lurking tigers of the deep, while the guns were manned and trained abeam ready to be laid upon the first suspicious object resembling a periscope.
Being the first day of the month the ship's company was to be paid, and soon after six bells final preparations for the solemn rite were in progress.
At a quarter to one two "G's"—the officers' call—sounded, and the first hundred men, mustering by open list, assembled in the Port Battery. On the quarter-deck tables were placed in position, on each of which were teak trays divided into small compartments by brass strips. In each of these divisions a man's monthly pay and allowance money had already been placed and checked by the paymaster and his staff.
Owing to the conditions of war-time the captain was not present, his duty of superintending the payment being taken by the commander. At the tables stood the staff-paymaster, the R.N.R. assistant-paymaster, and the chief writer.
The staff-paymaster glanced at the commander, indicating that all was in readiness. The commander gave the word to carry on, and the disbursing of coin began.
The assistant-paymaster called the men's names from a book. Each seaman stepped briskly forward to the chalk line, removed his cap, and, according to instructions, looked the accountant officer squarely in the face and gave his name and rating. Then, receiving his money in the crown of his cap, the recipient saluted and moved away to make room for the next man.
All was proceeding smoothly and with the regularity of clockwork when suddenly a diversion occurred.
The ship's company had a mascot in the shape of a young African monkey, that had been presented to the "Sunderland" by a French cruiser during a visit to an Algerian port. Although usually good-tempered "Mephisto" could and did exhibit fits of sulkiness and outbursts of insubordination that would have earned a lower deck man ninety days' "confined to detention quarters." But the monkey being a sort of chartered libertine, was idolized by the ship's company and mildly tolerated by the officers.
Mephisto was lazily sunning himself under the lee of the quarter-deck 6-in gun shield when his eye caught sight of the chief writer's silver watch, which that petty officer had occasion to consult.
Probably the monkey imagined that it was one of the tins of condensed milk for which he had great partiality.
Getting on his four feet Mephisto ambled across the quarter-deck, past the line of men drawn up at attention. Before he could cross the chalk line, a symbol for which he had no respect, the chief writer had replaced his timepiece.
Foiled in that direction the monkey made a grab at a pile of brand new copper coins, and before any of the officers and men could prevent, had made a rush for the weather-shrouds.
"Stop him!" yelled the commander.
A dozen men hastened to comply, jolting against each other in their alacrity to pursue the animal, which with marvellous agility had gained the extremity of the signal yard-arm.
Here he perched, hanging on with his hind paws while he tasted each coin with his teeth—at first with an expression of hopefulness upon his features that rapidly changed into one of profound disgust.
Holding the rest of the coins against his chest Mephisto hurled one on to the sacred precincts of the quarter-deck. It landed in one of the compartments of the pay-table, displacing a sovereign, that rolled between the staff-paymaster and the assistant-paymaster.
Both officers simultaneously stooped to recover the errant piece of gold. The result was that their heads met with a thud in spite of the protection afforded by their peaked caps.
Several of the men could not conceal a grin. One broke into a laugh, and meeting the stern glance of the commander tried to side-track into a painful cough.
Fortunately for the culprit the commander was inwardly affected by a similar complaint, for he, too, saw the humour of the business.
"Confound you!" shouted the staff-paymaster, removing his cap and rubbing his bald head. "Confound you, you brute! Throwing away the money from the public chest!"
The only reply from Mephisto was another penny that, thrown with splendid aim, rebounded from the staff-paymaster's shiny pate.
"The ship's company will have to make up the loss," he muttered. "They're responsible for their confounded pet."
"But you're responsible for the money, Staggles," remarked the commander drily. "At any rate, Mephisto is paying you back by instalments."
It wanted all the self-control at their command to keep the lookout men's attention from the comic scene to a duty of a serious nature, while the gun's crews temporarily forgot their duties to watch the encounter between the mascot and the staff-paymaster.
"Catch it—oh, you rotten butterfingers!" groaned the accountant officer to the assistant-paymaster, who, missing a coin thrown by the animal, allowed the sum of one penny to be committed to the deep. "Here, ship's steward, nip below and open a tin of condensed. That may tempt the brute below."
"You're condoning an offence, Staggles," said the commander in an undertone, with a humorous gleam in his eye.
Another coin tinkled on the deck. The commander promptly placed his foot on it to check its career towards the side.
"Where did that go?" asked the staff-paymaster, who, curiously enough, had a miserly regard for any money except his own, which he spent liberally.
The commander shifted his foot and pointed to the retrieved coin; as he did so, another penny, hurtling through the air, hit him smartly on his bent neck and promptly slithered inside his collar and down his back.
Unfortunately the commander was a man of a most ticklish temperament. The contact of the metal disc with his back caused him to writhe like a lost soul in torment. He had recently unflinchingly faced death in a hotly-contested engagement in the North Sea, but this rear attack completely unnerved him. His grotesque efforts to capture the elusive coin was too much for the rest of the officers and men. They were unable to conceal their amusement. Finally the commander dived down below and divested himself of his uniform.
Just then the ship's steward appeared with the tin of condensed milk, and handed the unopened can to a seaman. Away aloft the man made his way till he gained the cross-trees. Owing to the "Sunderland" altering her course she was swinging considerably to starboard, and the motion made the man advance cautiously, his feet sliding along the foot-ropes while he held on grimly with his free hand to the spar.
Mephisto eyed the approaching delicacy with marked approval. Letting the remaining coins drop, some of which tinkled on deck although most of them fell overboard, he whisked along the yard-arm, and before the seaman realized the brute's intention, snatched the can from his grasp.
A snarl warned the bluejacket that if he advanced it would be at his peril, and unwilling to risk an encounter with an agile monkey on the swaying yard, he followed the precept of discretion being the better part of valour, and regained the deck, leaving the spoils in the hands of the elated ape.
Presently the monkey had another disappointment. The intact tin baffled him. He tried his teeth upon it—but unavailingly, so he began to batter it upon the metal eye of a band encircling the spar.
"There'll be an unholy mess, by Jove!" ejaculated the commander, who had now reappeared upon the scene, for the tin showed signs of capitulating to the strenuous frontal attacks on the part of Mephisto.
"Bring up another tin—and take care to open it this time," ordered the staff-paymaster recklessly, who had now taken the precaution of covering the pay-tables with a green baize cloth.
"Bang, bang, bang!" went the tin under the muscular efforts of Mephisto. Already large drops of the viscous fluid were descending upon the hallowed quarter-deck, bespattering officers and men indiscriminately, for owing to the ship's speed a strong current of air was drifting aft and spraying the stuff far and wide.
"Clear the quarter-deck," ordered the commander. "Up aloft a couple of hands and collar the brute. By Jove! if it gives much more trouble, I'll have it shot."
Suddenly, above the scuffling of feet as the men doubled for'ard, came the shout: "Submarine on the port quarter."
Sharply the bugle sounded "Action," and as the "Sunderland" began to circle to starboard in answer to a quick movement of her helm, the quick-firers began to bark at a pole-like object four hundred yards off.
The unexpected detonation, as a gun was discharged fifty feet under his nose, completed Mephisto's brief spell of unalloyed liberty. Temporarily stunned by the terrific concussion the monkey relaxed his grip and fell.
Just at that moment the staff-paymaster, who was scurrying below with one of the pay-trays, happened to be passing in the direct line of Mephisto's descent. The next instant the portly officer was rolling on the deck in a puddle of condensed milk with the monkey's paws clutching at his scanty crop of hair, while to complete the staff-paymaster's discomfiture most of the money he was carrying rolled overboard.
Regaining his feet Staff-paymaster Staggles contrived to reach the companion, and with Mephisto still firmly attached to him, disappeared below.
But the men's attention was now directed towards more serious matters. An ever-diverging line that rippled the placid water denoted the approach of a deadly torpedo. Now it was heading as if about to hit the bows of the "Sunderland," a second later and the arrow-like ripples seemed to be approaching directly abeam; then, as the cruiser swung almost on her heel the wake of the formidable missile was merged into the churning froth astern. It had missed by a bare yard.
From the fire-control platform telephone bells were clanging and men shouting through the voice-tubes. From their elevated position the watchers could discern a long, dark shadow that marked the position of the submarine.
Completely circling the "Sunderland" was steadied on her helm and steered straight for the spot. In vain the submerged craft attempted to dive to a depth greater than that of her enemy's draught.
Terence, who was stationed on the after-bridge, felt a faint shock as the five thousand tons vessel literally cut the luckless submarine in twain. For a brief instant the lieutenant caught sight of the after-portion of the "U" boat, as, rendered buoyant by the trapped air, it drifted past. Then amidst a smother of foam and oil the wreckage vanished.
"The eleventh to my certain knowledge," remarked the commander, as coolly as if he were reckoning up the score at an athletic meeting.
"Any damage for'ard, Mr. Black?"
"No, sir; all as tight as a bottle as far as I can see," replied the carpenter, who immediately after the impact had hurried below to see if any plates had been "started."
A little later in the afternoon several of the ward-room officers were enjoying their cups of tea and biscuits, when the staff-paymaster entered.
"Well, Staggles, what's the shortage?" asked the commander facetiously.
The accountant officer eyed his tormentor reproachfully, as if that officer were responsible for his former discomfiture.
"One pound three shillings and threepence—and two tins of condensed milk," he announced stiffly. "According to paragraph 445 of the Admiralty Instructions there will have to be two separate reports on the shortage."
The staff-paymaster spoke seriously. The man was heart and soul in his work, and his mental horizon was bounded by official forms and other red-tapeism connected with the accountant branch of H.M. Service.
"By the by," interposed Oswestry, "Staggles ought to be recommended for the V.C."
"What's that, Torps?" asked Barracombe. "Our staff-paymaster the V.C.?"
"What for?" inquired the staff-paymaster innocently.
The commander entrenched himself behind a double number of an illustrated periodical.
"For bringing Mephisto in out of action," he replied with a chuckle.
Late that evening the "Sunderland" brought up in the Admiralty Harbour at Dover, in company with three other light cruisers, two monitors, and a flotilla of destroyers. All night long the men slept at their guns, while the cruiser's searchlights aided those of the forts both ashore and on the breakwater in sweeping the approach to the sheltered harbour.
"Nothing to report," announced Barracombe, as Aubyn relieved him as officer of the watch. "A jolly fine night. I shouldn't wonder if we were favoured by a visit from a Zeppelin or two."
"A pretty jamb in the harbour," said Terence, giving a quick glance at the maze of vessels. "Fortunately, I hear, we've several seaplanes at our disposal."
Barracombe wished his relief good-night and descended the ladder to retire to the seclusion of his cabin and sleep the sleep of exhaustion, for he had had a strenuous time before the cruiser left Devonport.
During the first hour nothing unusual occurred. The midshipman of the watch reported "Rounds all correct, sir," to which Aubyn replied with the stereotyped "Very good." Across the harbour came the faint hail of the Night Guard as the picquet boat studiously visited every vessel within the limits of the breakwater.
The masthead light of the flagship began to blink. A signalman on the "Sunderland's" bridge snatched up a slate.
"General call, sir," he announced.
Deftly the man took down the message, then hurried to the chart-room to decipher the code.
"Submarine E27 reports three hostile aeroplanes passing S.W. by W. Position eleven miles N.N.E. of North Goodwin."
The warning was a brief one, for hardly had the ship's company been called to their action stations when a faint buzzing, immediately becoming louder and louder, announced that the raiders were approaching the town and harbour of Dover.
Searchlights flashed skywards, while from beneath the old castle on the lofty chalk cliffs half a dozen intrepid British airmen ascended to meet the foe. Already the anti-aerial guns were stabbing the darkness with lurid spurts of flame, while their shells, bursting perilously close to the hostile aeroplanes, caused the calculating Teutons to think better of the attempt.
It was an easy matter to steal over an unfortified town or village and drop explosives; but for once the Germans were to learn the wisdom of discrimination. Higher and higher they banked, until catching a glimpse of the British seaplanes as they passed through the path of one of the searchlights they precipitately turned tail.
"'Sunderland' and destroyer flotilla to proceed in support of seaplanes," came the signal.
Hastily the pins of the mooring shackle were knocked out. Steam was already raised, and in a very few minutes the light cruiser and her attendant destroyers were slipping between the heads of the detached breakwater and the Admiralty Pier.
But swift as were the light cruisers the seaplanes were quicker. Already they were five or six miles out to sea, their position being revealed by the flashes of the light guns as they exchanged shots with the fugitive Taubes.
Suddenly with a dazzling flash a bomb exploded hardly twenty feet from the "Sunderland's" starboard quarter. Five seconds later another struck the water almost under the cruiser's bows, and a waft of evil-smelling gas drifted across the navigation bridge, causing officers and men to cough and gasp for breath.
The captain tried to give an order, but was unable to utter a sound. Mutely he signed for the helm to be put hard over.
Terence understood. Literally groping his way through the thick vapour, that even in the darkness showed an unmistakable greenish hue, he found the quartermaster, who was clutching his throat and struggling for breath.
Pushing the man aside Aubyn rapidly revolved the steam steering-gear. Obediently the cruiser swung round, narrowly escaping a high explosive missile that, had she maintained her course, would have played havoc with her fo'c'sle.
All around the "Sunderland" the destroyers were dodging hither and thither in order to attempt to avoid the hail of bombs that rained from the sky. It was little short of a miracle that collisions did not take place, for owing to the darkness, the suffocating fumes from the missiles, and to the fact that most of the helmsmen were temporarily blinded and choked, all attempt at formation was out of the question.
From the after-bridge of the cruiser a searchlight flashed skywards. For a few seconds even its powerful rays failed to penetrate the pall of smoke, till an eddying gust freed the "Sunderland" from the noxious fumes.
Then the source of the mysterious missiles was revealed. At a height of over two thousand feet were a couple of Zeppelins. Taking advantage of the fact that the attention of the British seaplanes and destroyers was centred on the fugitive Taubes, these giant airships, by reason of their altitude, were able to manoeuvre immediately above the flotilla.
It was an opportunity too good to be missed, for although the objective of the Zeppelins was a raid on London—they having decided upon a circuitous course over Kent and Sussex borders in order to avoid the air-stations at the Isle of Grain—the chance of raining a shower of bombs upon the British cruiser and her attendant destroyers was too tempting.
For once, at least, the German Admiralty had not been kept well posted as to the details of armament of the cruisers of the "Town Class," for the "Sunderland" and her consorts had recently been equipped with a couple of 12-pounder anti-aircraft guns. These weapons fired a shell of unique character. Somewhat resembling a shrapnel, the missile was packed with short lengths of chain and charged with a high explosive.
Almost as soon as the Zeppelins were discovered both guns barked venomously. From the point of view of the observers on the "Sunderland's" bridge the shells appeared to burst close to the frail targets. Both airships were observed to pitch violently, while one, with her nose tilted downwards, began to descend.
"She's done for!" exclaimed Terence.
A round of cheering burst from the throats of the crew. It seemed as if nothing could arrest the seaward plunge of one of the Kaiser's gas-bags. Not only had her bow compartments been holed but the nacelle containing the propelling machinery was completely wrecked.
Both Zeppelins began to throw out ballast with frantic haste. They also released the whole of their remaining supply of bombs, which fell with a rapid series of deafening detonations more than half a mile from the nearest destroyer.
With the release of the ballast the undamaged Zeppelin shot skywards until her altitude was not less than ten thousand feet. Comparatively safe for the time being from the effect of the anti-aircraft shells, she floated, a mere speck in the concentrated yet diminished glare of a dozen searchlights, and awaited events.
Meanwhile, the damaged Zeppelin had checked her plunge, and, in spite of a hot fire, was slowly rising. By dint of strenuous efforts her crew succeeded in shifting aft the travelling weight that served to trim the unwieldy craft. Even then her longitudinal axis was sharply inclined to the horizontal.
Everything that could be jettisoned was thrown overboard. Guns, ammunition, stores, and the metal framework of the wrecked car were sacrificed, till without being hit by the British guns, she rose to a terrific height.
"We've lost her!" exclaimed Oswestry savagely.
"One thing, she won't trouble us again," added the commander. "And I'm not so certain that she will get clear. We've wirelessed the seaplanes, and they'll have a chip in. Hullo! What's the game now?"
A searchlight flashed from the undamaged Zeppelin and played in ever-widening circles until it picked up her damaged consort. The latter was consequently more plainly discernible to the crew of the "Sunderland" than it had hitherto been, since the distance between the two airships was less than a thousand yards and was visibly decreasing.
"They're going to take her in tow, by Jove!" ejaculated Aubyn, who had brought his binoculars to play upon the scene.
Oswestry gave a snort that implied disbelief in his brother-officer's assertion, but presently he exclaimed:—
"Well, blest if you aren't right, old man. And a deuced smart move," he added, with a true sailor's admiration for a smart manoeuvre, whether executed by friend or foe.
"What a chance for our seaplanes!" said the torpedo lieutenant. "They ought to have been on the spot before this."
"They're on the way all right, Torps," declared the commander. "I wouldn't mind betting a month's pay that they've spotted their quarry. By Jove, they've established communication!"
The undamaged Zeppelin had circled round her consort and was now forging gently ahead. An upward jerk of the other's bows announced that the strain on the towing hawser was beginning to be felt. Gradually the hitherto uncontrollable airship began to gather way, both vessels rolling sluggishly in the light air-currents.
The aerial searchlight had now been switched off, but by means of the rays directed from the British ships the progress of the two Zeppelins could be followed as their huge shapes, showing ghost-like in the silvery light, moved slowly in a north-easterly direction.
Having resumed their respective stations the cruiser and the destroyer flotilla followed. Owing to the greatly reduced speed of the hostile aircraft it was an easy matter to maintain a fixed relative distance between them and the British vessels, whose attention was divided between the prospect of an aerial meeting with seaplanes and the risk of being intercepted by the torpedo of a German submarine, to say nothing of floating mines.
"She's cast off!" shouted a dozen voices.
Such was the case. The two Zeppelins had parted company, one flying off at a terrific speed, rising rapidly as she did so, while the other, being without means of propulsion, drifted at the mercy of the winds.
It was now dawn. The grey light of morning was already overcoming the strength of the searchlights and it was already possible to discern the outlines of the abandoned Zeppelin by the natural light of day.
Pelting up from the eastward came the air squadron of seaplanes. Half a dozen circled and started off in pursuit of the fugitive airship, which, travelling at high speed, was now but a faint speck against the ruddy sky.
The rest advanced boldly upon the disabled Zeppelin, although ignorant of the fact that she had jettisoned her guns, and, save for a few rifles, was without means of defence.
The seaplanes' automatic guns spat viciously, and as the range decreased almost every shot began to tell. The huge fabric once more began to drop, as the small projectile ripped through the flimsy aluminium envelope.
Presently the seaplanes ceased firing and circled triumphantly over their vanquished foe. They knew that the Zeppelin was doomed, and instincts of humanity forbade them to take undue advantage of the plight of her crew.
"Away, boats!" ordered the "Sunderland's" captain.
Instantly there was a rush to man the boats and to stand by the falls. With an alacrity that was part of his nature, Jack Tar prepared to rescue his enemy, in spite of the fact that that enemy had sallied forth with the deliberate intention of hurling bombs with the utmost indiscrimination upon combatants and non-combatants alike, not excepting helpless women and children.
Before the boats could be lowered a lurid blaze of light rolled out, rivalling the rays of the rising sun. Where the Zeppelin had been only a cloud of flame-tinged smoke remained, while from the mushroomed pall of vapour that marked a funereal pyre of yet another unit of the Kaiser's air-fleet, scorched and twisted girders and other débris streamed seawards.
Whether by accident or design the only remaining petrol tank had exploded, and the flames instantly igniting the huge volume of hydrogen had in the twinkling of an eye completed the work of destruction.
For ten minutes the destroyers cruised over the spot where the débris had disappeared, but there were no signs of survivors, not even of wreckage. The remains of the Zeppelin had been swallowed up by the insatiable sea, and no visible trophy remained in the hands of the men who had baulked an attempted raid on the largest city of the world.
Before the flotilla regained Dover Harbour the remaining seaplanes came in sight. Unfortunately their efforts at pursuit were futile. The Zeppelin developing a turn of speed far in excess of which she had been credited by her detractors, had shaken off the British aircraft, and when last seen she was high over the Belgian coast.
Nevertheless, her wings had been clipped, although she survived to tell the tale that the hated English were still able vigorously and successfully to dispute the mastery of the air.
On the evening following the return of the "Sunderland" to Dover, Terence obtained leave to go ashore in order to visit a brother-officer who, owing to his ship being under repairs, was temporarily installed in the Lord Warden Hotel.
Aubyn was proceeding along the Admiralty Pier when his progress was barred by a tall, bronzed young fellow in the uniform of a flight-lieutenant of the Naval Air Service.
"Hullo, Aubyn, old man!" exclaimed the latter cordially, as he extended his hand. "Forgotten me already?"
"Waynsford, by Jove!" ejaculated Terence. "Bless you, Dick, I never expected to see you here and in this rig. What has happened?"
"Oh, I chucked the Motor Boat Reserve," declared Waynsford. "It was a bit too dull. They sent me to Southampton, and that was the limit. A superannuated postman could have done my job, which was delivering letters to transports. So I applied for the Naval Air Service. It's more in my line."
"Been across yet?" asked Terence, indicating the twenty odd mile strip of water that separated Great Britain from the scene of land hostilities.
"Dunkirk twice," replied Waynsford. "Was there when the Germans started shelling the place. But we're off again early to-morrow morning."
"Yes, I heard," said Aubyn. "Big operations. We are to engage the Zeebrugge and Ostend batteries while the Allied airmen play with the German lines of communication. So I may see something of you."
"I hope so—after the fun is over," replied the young airman. "Well, I must be moving. Early hours and a good night's rest are essential to this sort of work."
The two friends parted, Terence making for the hotel, while Waynsford walked off in the direction of the castle, in which the airmen detailed for the great raid were temporarily quartered.
Precisely at one hour before sunrise the first British waterplane rose from the surface of Dover Harbour. Almost simultaneously an Army aeroplane "kicked off" from the sloping ground beyond the chalk cliffs. Each was followed at regular intervals, until a double row of swift air-craft flying with methodical precision headed towards the Flanders shore.
Already the "Sunderland" and three other light cruisers, accompanied by a torpedo-boat destroyer flotilla, were shaping a course for the Belgian coast.
Off the East Goodwins they were joined by two monitors and three pre-Dreadnought battleships, and the battle line was formed. Away steamed the destroyers to act as screens to the heavier vessels, and to guard them from submarine attack. The monitors led the main division, the cruisers acting as links between them and the battleships, which, owing to their greater draught, could not approach the coast nearer than a distance of from four to seven miles.
From Aubyn's point of view the forthcoming operations were entirely new. For the first time in his experience he was to take part in an action between ships and shore batteries, the latter being both fixed and mobile. It was a comparatively easy matter to plant shells into forts the position of which were known, but the Germans had brought up heavy guns mounted on travelling platforms, which could be moved with considerable celerity behind the long, low-lying sand dunes between Nieuport and Zeebrugge.
It was partly to locate the latter that the airmen had preceded the bombarding ships, and also to harass the enemy's lines of communication. Moreover, hostile submarines were reported to have been brought in sections to Zeebrugge, where they were being bolted together ready to take the offensive against the British vessels operating off the Belgian coast.
The "Sunderland," like her consorts, was already cleared for action. All the crew were behind the protected portions of the ship, but the captain and seven of the officers elected to fight the ship not from the armoured conning-tower but from the fore-bridge.
"By Jove! They're at it already," exclaimed Oswestry, as a series of rapid detonations came from across the dunes.
By the aid of their glasses the officers could discern the fleecy mushrooms of smoke caused by the bursting of the anti-aerial guns directed against the British airmen. Viewed from a distance it seemed impossible that a frail aeroplane could exist amid that tornado of shell.
"Wireless reports mobile battery three hundred yards sou'-sou'-east of Clemskercke church, sir," reported a signalman.
Promptly the news was transmitted to the fire-control platform. In his lofty perch a gunnery-lieutenant was busy with a complication of instruments, assisted by a midshipman and three seamen.
"Fire-control to for'ard 6-inch gun: stand by!" came the telephonic order. "Fire-control to port battery stand by."
Round swung the guns, "laid" by the master hand of the gunnery-lieutenant on the fire-control platform. Docilely obedient to the delicate mechanism they reared their muzzles high in the air.
Then, with a crash that shook the ship, five of the 6-inch guns spoke simultaneously. To the accompaniment of a long-drawn shriek the 100-pound missiles hurtled through space.
"Eighty yards short," came the wireless report of the observing seaplane that, hovering a bare five hundred feet above the German mobile battery, had marked the point of impact of the shells.
Again a salvo was let loose. This time came the encouraging statement that the hostile guns were knocked clean out of action, and that swarms of artillerymen and infantry were scurrying across the dunes.
The next discharge practically annihilated the fugitives. In one minute and twenty-five seconds the "Sunderland's" particular task was accomplished. It was but the beginning, for acting upon orders from the flagship she was ordered to engage a battery at close range.
Meanwhile, the rest of the battleships and cruisers had not been idle. A perfect tornado of shell was being directed upon the Belgian shore.
"Hard aport!" shouted the captain of the "Sunderland."
Round swung the cruiser, only just avoiding the tell-tale line of bubbles that marked the track of a torpedo. With consummate daring a German submarine had dived under a part of the torpedo-boat destroyer flotilla, and had discharged a weapon at the British cruiser. The torpedo, having missed the "Sunderland," was tearing straight for one of the monitors, which, having to go full speed astern to avoid a collision with a couple of damaged destroyers, was now practically stationary.
Owing to the light draught the weapon passed six feet beneath her keel, and finishing its run rose to the surface three hundred yards beyond; for, instead of the torpedo sinking at the end of its course, the Germans, in direct contravention of the laws of naval warfare, had closed the sinking valve so that the torpedo virtually became a floating mine.
In this instance the trick did not avail, for a well-directed shot from one of the monitor's quick-firers exploded the war-head and sent the missile into a thousand fragments.
"A feeble reply," observed Oswestry to Terence. "These fellows seem afraid to stand to their guns."
Even as he spoke the air was torn by a terrific salvo of shells from powerful batteries hitherto well concealed in the dunes. The "Sunderland," being fairly close, seemed the special mark, for in six seconds she received as many direct hits. One of her funnels showed a jagged gash ten feet in length and was only prevented from toppling overboard by the steel-wire guys. A three-pounder gun, that fortunately was not manned, was blown completely from its mountings, while the rest of the shells passed clean through the unprotected parts of the ship, totally wrecking the ward-room and the stokers' mess-deck.
Terence felt a strong desire to make a hasty rush for the shelter of the conning-tower, for splinters were flying and wafts of pungent smoke from the hostile shells were drifting over the bridge, but the sight of his captain standing cool and collected and without a vestige of protection tended to restore his confidence.
With unabated fury her guns replied to the German fire. The "Sunderland" proved that she could receive as well as give hard knocks.
It was time to give the almost overheated starboard guns a chance to cool, so orders were given for the helm to be starboarded. Seeing the cruiser in the act of turning, a destroyer tore across her bows, purposely throwing out huge volumes of black smoke from her four funnels in order to mask the "Sunderland" as she circled.
Terence recognized the destroyer as his old ship the "Livingstone," as she darted swiftly round the turning cruiser, then, leaving a thick pall of smoke in her wake, hastened off to assist another destroyer that was evidently in difficulties.
The "Livingstone's" manoeuvre undoubtedly saved the "Sunderland" from destruction, for a fifty-two centimetre shell, aimed to hit the exact position where the cruiser would have been had she not altered course, struck the water with a tremendous splash not fifty yards on her beam.
Before the "Sunderland" had drawn clear of the friendly cloud of smoke she had increased her distance from shore by nearly five cables' lengths; while, until the German gunners had found the range anew, she was able to enjoy a brief respite.
"Seaplanes returning," announced the gunnery-lieutenant on the fire-control platform, who from his elevated post could command a wide and almost uninterrupted view.
Their task done, the seaplanes, which had been engaged in dropping bombs on the railway stations in the rear of the German batteries, were on their homeward way. Anxiously Terence counted them. Thank heaven! Not one was missing.
Apparently the last but one of the aerial procession was in difficulties, for the seaplane was rocking violently, and in spite of a dangerous tilt of the elevating planes was appreciably descending.
Suddenly the frail craft plunged, literally on end, towards the sea, the force of gravity, acting with the pull of the propeller, greatly increasing its velocity.
When within two hundred feet of the surface the seaplane made a complete loop, then after climbing a hundred feet or so, began to side-slip.
"By Jove! He'll be drowned for a dead cert," exclaimed Terence, for he knew for a fact that the aviator had not been thrown from the chassis when the seaplane "looped the loop," and in consequence must be strapped to his seat.
"Away sea-boat," ordered the captain, at the same time giving directions for both engines to be reversed.
The "Sunderland" was considerably the nearest warship to the descending airman. Already the "Livingstone" and her two sister-ship destroyers were a mile or so away, and wearing at full speed to investigate a suspicious swirl in the water.
Shells were again dropping unpleasantly near to the cruiser as Aubyn hurried towards the boat which was, owing to being cleared for action, secured inboard, abreast the after funnel.
Before he reached this spot the seaplane had struck the surface of the water. Falling obliquely and at a sharp angle, the impact had shattered one of the floats. When the cascade of spray had subsided the wrecked craft could be seen still afloat but listing acutely. The aviator had survived the shock and was hurriedly unbuckling the strap that held him to his seat.
"Boat's done for, sir," announced one of the would-be crew. Such was the case. The explosion of a shell had wrenched her keel and garboards out of her.
"Then overboard with that!" ordered Terence, indicating a Carley life-buoy, which, though scorched by the blast of the shells, was still practically intact.
The Carley life-buoy is a "new departure" in life-saving appliances on board ships of the Royal Navy. It is a glorified edition of an ordinary buoy, but elongated in shape and provided with gratings, and capable of being propelled by oars.
Half a dozen bluejackets seized the huge buoy and slung it overboard. Held by means of a line it floated alongside the cruiser until Terence and three men clambered into it.
Although the rate of propulsion was not by any means so rapid as that of a boat the progress of the rescuers was far from slow. More than once they were splashed by the spray thrown up by a ricochetting projectile, as the German gunlayers were gradually correcting their aim, yet unscathed the rescue party came alongside the gradually sinking seaplane.
"Hullo, Aubyn!" shouted a well-known voice.
The airman was Waynsford. In his pneumatic helmet and huge goggles he was unrecognizable, but his voice proclaimed his identity.
"Hurt, old man?" asked Terence.
"Not a bit," replied Waynsford coolly. "They clipped a couple of stays just as I was getting out of range. But we did the trick, by Jove! Blew the railway station to Jericho."
"Hurry up," interposed Terence. "She's going."
The young airman methodically gathered together several important instruments, and giving a final look round at the aircraft that had served him so faithfully, stepped into the waiting "Carley."
Before the men had pulled five yards the wrecked machine gave a lurch and capsized completely. Supported by trapped air in the partially intact float the seaplane sank slowly, and with hardly a ripple disappeared from view.
With the least possible delay rescuers and rescued were taken on board the cruiser. Gathering way the "Sunderland" steamed in a westerly direction in order to baffle the range of the shore batteries, using her after guns with terrific speed.
Somewhat unceremoniously leaving his friend Terence hastened towards the bridge. Just as he was abreast of the wreckage of the shattered funnel a deafening detonation, that completely surpassed the roar of the cruiser's guns, seemed to burst over his head. Staggering under the blast of the explosion and temporarily blinded by the pungent smoke, the lieutenant groped his way until his progress was checked by a jagged mass of plating rendered almost red-hot by the impact of a huge shell.
Recoiling, he stood stock still for quite thirty seconds, his senses numbed by the nerve-racking concussion. Then, as the smoke drifted away, he could discern the débris of the bridge. Charthouse, stanchions, semaphore, signal-lockers—all had vanished, and with them the captain and those of the officers and men who had dared fate by rejecting the shelter afforded by the conning-tower, which, stripped of its surroundings, stood out a gaunt, fire-pitted steel box.
The shell, a 42-centimetre, had literally cleared the forepart of the ship, from the for'ard 6-inch gun to the second funnel. Everything in its path had been literally pulverized, with the exception of the conning-tower. Had the projectile burst on or below the main deck the fate of the "Sunderland" would have been sealed; as it was, she was still intact under the waterline.
Instinctively Aubyn realized that the ship was not under control. Steaming rapidly she was heading towards the "Bradford"—her sister ship—which was steering in a north-easterly direction at about five cables' distance on her port bow.
With a tremendous effort of will-power Terence cleared at a bound the formidable glowing plate of metal that obstructed his path. Making his way across the scorched and splintered planks, some of which gave under his weight, he reached the entrance to the conning-tower.
The steel citadel was full of acrid-smelling smoke that eddied in the air-currents which drifted in through the observation slits.
Bending, and holding his left hand over his mouth and nostrils, Terence entered. As he did so he stumbled over the body of the quartermaster.
Propped against the circular walls were the first lieutenant and two seamen. All the occupants of the conning-tower had been overcome by the noxious fumes from the highly-charged projectile.
Gasping for fresh air Terence flung himself upon the steam-steering gear and put the helm hard over. A glimpse through one of the slits revealed the fact that the cruiser was answering to her helm. Yet so narrowly had a collision been averted that the "Sunderland's" starboard side was within twenty feet of the "Bradford's" port quarter as the two vessels swung apart.
The guns were now silent, for with the destruction of the foremast the fire-control platform and its occupants had been swept out of existence. The cruiser was temporarily out of action.
Terence was beginning to feel dizzy and faint. Why, he knew not. Perhaps it was the pungent fumes. Leaning over the mouthpiece of the speaking tube he ordered a couple of quartermasters to be sent to the conning-tower. He could hardly recognize the sound of his own voice. It seemed miles away.
Again he looked ahead. The cruiser was still drawing further and further out of range. Having satisfied himself on that score and that there was no fresh danger of colliding with any of the rest of the fleet, he staggered into the open air and leaned heavily against the outer wall of the conning-tower, He was barely conscious that the metal was still hot.
Up came the quartermasters. At their heels was a sub-lieutenant, his face grimed with smoke and his uniform torn.
"Take over, Garboard," ordered the lieutenant brokenly. "Report to the flagship and ask instructions. I'm feeling deucedly queer."
"Why, you're wounded!" exclaimed the sub-lieutenant, noticing a dark and increasing patch upon Aubyn's coat.
"Am I?" asked Terence incredulously.
Turning his head to ascertain the nature of his injury, of which hitherto he was unconscious, his shoulder slipped along the curved steel wall. Garboard was only just in time to save him from collapsing inertly upon the deck of the ship he had brought safely out of action.