CHAPTER XII--The Night AttackJust before midnight two columns of destroyers in line ahead slipped away in the darkness, the course being N. 42° E. Without showing so much as a glimmer of light, with their funnels screened with "spark arresters" to prevent the exit of glowing embers from the furnaces, the long, lean craft headed in the supposed direction of the enemy fleet.From the elevated fore-bridge Sefton could scarce distinguish betwixt theCalder'sbows and the dark, heavy waves. The only guide to enable the destroyer to keep station was the phosphorescent swirl at the stern of the vessel next ahead, as her triple propellers churned the water.On deck the men were at the battle-stations, standing motionless and silent. Their faces had been blackened with burnt cork to render them as inconspicuous as possible should the beam of a hostile search-light swing itself athwart their vessel.Although the high-raised fo'c'sle of theCalderwas comparatively dry, showers of spray cast aside by the flaring bows were caught by the strong wind and dashed over the bridge until it was impossible to make use of night-glasses owing to the beads of moisture on the lenses.Beyond a curt, clearly-enunciated order to the quartermaster, neither of the two officers spoke a word, Crosthwaite gripping the guard-rail and peering ahead, while Sefton kept his attention upon the tell-tale greyish smudge that marked the position of the destroyer ahead.The result of years of training at night manoeuvres was bearing fruit. Iron-nerved men were at the helm of each boat--men who had long since got beyond the "jumpy" stage, when strange freaks of imagination conjure up visions of objects that do not exist. A false alarm and a rapid fire from the 4-inch guns would be fatal to the enterprise, the success of which depended entirely upon getting well within torpedo-range without being spotted by the alert foe.A feeble light, screened in all directions save that towards the vessels astern, blinked rapidly from the leading destroyer. It was the signal for the flotilla to form in line abeam."Starboard ten!" ordered Crosthwaite."Starboard ten, sir!" was the helmsman's reply, while the lieutenant-commander telegraphed for speed to be increased to 22 knots in order to bring theCaldereven with the leader.Had it been daylight the manoeuvre would have been executed with the precision of a machine; being night it was impossible to follow the movements of the whole flotilla, but carried out the orders were, each destroyer keeping station with the one nearest on her starboard beam.Suddenly the darkness was penetrated by the dazzling beam of a search-light from a ship at a distance of two miles on theCalder'sport bow. For a moment it hung irresolute, and then swung round in the direction of the on-coming destroyers.A huge black mass intercepted the rays, its outlines silhouetted against the silvery glare. The mass was a German light cruiser, evidently detached for scouting purposes and returning with screened lights towards the main fleet.Instantly a furious cannonade was opened upon the luckless light cruiser from half a dozen of her consorts. For a couple of minutes the firing continued, until, with a tremendous flash and a deafening roar, her magazine exploded."The Huns will never admit their mistake," thought Sefton. "They'll claim to have destroyed another of our ships."Then the sub's whole attention was chained to the work now on hand. Barely had the last of the flying debris from the German light cruiser struck the water when at full speed the British destroyer flotilla hurled itself upon the foe.Played upon by fifty search-lights, the target for a hundred guns, large and small, the destroyers held on with one set purpose, their torpedo-men discharging the 21-inch missiles with rapidity and cool determination.Above the crash of the ordnance could be heard the deeper boom of the torpedoes as they exploded against the ships' bottoms at a depth of fifteen or twenty feet below the surface.Slick in between two large battleships theCalderrushed, letting loose a pair of torpedoes at each of the hostile ships. One torpedo was observed to explode close to the stern of the battleship to starboard, the stricken vessel leaving the line with a decided list and enveloped in smoke."Light cruisers, by Jove!" muttered Sefton, as theCalder, on nearing the end of the enemy line, was confronted by three vessels of the "Wiesbaden" class.A heavy fire greeted the approaching destroyer, but almost without exception the shells went wide of their mark. Then, gathering speed, one of the German light cruisers ported helm and attempted to ram her lightly-built opponent.Making no effort to avoid the danger, theCalderheld on, until Sefton, turning to see what his commanding officer was doing, found Crosthwaite sitting on the bridge with his back against the pedestal of the semaphore, and his hands clasping his right leg just above the knee, and blood oozing from a gash in his forehead.The sub was the only officer on the bridge capable of taking command."Hard-a-starboard!" he shouted, in order to make himself heard above the din.Ever quick on her helm, the destroyer spun round almost on her heel. The German's stem missed her by a couple of feet, while, hurled bodily sideways by the mass of water from the former's bow wave, theCalderslid past with her side-plating almost touching that of her enemy.Simultaneously the Hun let fly a broadside. The destroyer reeled under the shock, but once again she was in luck, for none of the hostile guns could be sufficiently depressed to score a vital hit. The next instant the cruiser was lost to sight in the darkness, saluted by a number of rounds from the destroyer's after 4-inch gun.Temporarily stunned by the detonations of the German cruiser's guns--for he was within twenty feet of the muzzles of several of the weapons--Sefton leaned against the conning-tower. The metal was unpleasantly hot, for a light shell had burst against it hardly a minute before. Beyond denting the steel armour and blowing the signal-locker over the side, the missile had done no further damage.Coughing the acrid fumes from his lungs and clearing his eyes of involuntary tears, for the air was thick with irritating dust, Sefton began to take a renewed interest in his surroundings.TheCalderhad penetrated the hostile line without sustaining serious damage. She had now to return.The sub grasped one of the voice-tubes. The flexible pipe came away in his hand, the whole system having been cut through with a fragment of shell."We've had it pretty hot!" he soliloquized. "Wonder we're still afloat. Well, now for it once more."He leant over the after side of the bridge. A dark figure was moving for'ard ten feet beneath him."Pass the word to the L.T.O.," ordered the sub, "to report the number of torpedoes remaining.""Aye, aye, sir," replied the man, and, retracing his steps, he hurried aft to where the leading torpedo-man was standing at the tubes.Back came the messenger, lurching as he loomed through the darkness."The man hasn't found his sea-legs yet," thought Sefton; then aloud he asked: "Well?""None left, sir," replied the seaman, and, having delivered his message, he pitched upon his face.Sefton had to let him lie there. The sub could not leave the bridge. Even Crosthwaite had to be left alone until the destroyer was out of action.It would have been a futile task to attempt to take theCalderback between the enemy lines. With no other offensive weapons than her comparatively light 4-inch quick-firers, she would be unable to do any serious damage to the huge armoured ships, while at the same time she would be exposed to an overwhelming fire as she passed abeam of the German battleships and light cruisers.So into the darkness, beyond the glare of the search-lights, Sefton took the destroyer, with the intention of making a wide sweep and rejoining the British fleet. Of how theCalder'sconsorts were faring he knew nothing, except that the action was being briskly maintained. Occasionally the foggy night would be rent by a vivid red glare that outclassed the almost continuous flashes of the guns, which illuminated the low-lying clouds like incessant summer lightning. The roar of the ordnance was simply indescribable. It seemed impossible that a man could go through it without having his ear-drums burst by the terrific air-beats of the appalling detonations.A dark shape loomed through the darkness almost athwart theCalder'strack. Only a quick movement of the helm avoided collision with the floating object, which, as theCalderswept by, revealed itself as a large destroyer.On deck she was little better than a wreck. Bridge, conning-tower, funnels, masts, and boats had vanished utterly. Her guns, wrenched from their mountings, pointed upwards at grotesque angles through their shattered shields. Where the torpedo-tubes had been was a jagged hole still spanned by one arc of the gun-metal racer. This much was visible in the reflected glare of the distant search-lights as theCalderswept by with her guns trained abeam should the vessel still be capable of offence.A score of men, mostly engine-room ratings, were gathered amidships on the shattered deck of the crippled vessel. They had desisted from the work on which they were engaged, and were gazing mutely at the destroyer that might be instrumental in giving them thecoup de grâce."What ship is that?" roared Sefton through a megaphone, the intervening distance being less than twenty yards."His Majesty's destroyerYealm," was the reply, flung proudly through the darkness.Thrusting both levers of the engine-room telegraph to "Full Speed Astern" and afterwards to "Stop", the sub brought theCalderto a standstill within easy hailing distance of her disabled consort. Here was a case in which assistance could be rendered without detriment to the interests of the Service. TheCalder, until she could replenish her store of torpedoes, was practically useless as a fighting unit. With her engines undamaged she could tow theYealminto comparative safety, provided she was not intercepted by a straggling hostile ship."Stand by to receive a hawser!" continued Sefton. "We'll give you a pluck out of this.""No; thanks all the same, sir," shouted a deep voice. "We're sound below the water-line, and we can get under way again in a few minutes. We'll take our chances of getting out of it. We gave the swine an almighty punching before they swept our decks. Carry on, sir, and give them another half a dozen for us."It was theYealm'storpedo gunner who spoke, the only surviving executive officer of the gallant destroyer."Can you spare us any torpedoes?" shouted Sefton, an inspiration flashing across his mind."Aye, aye, sir," was the reply. "Four.""Very good; we'll come alongside," rejoined the sub, who thereupon ordered two wire "springs" to be made ready, so as to establish communication between the two destroyers."Well done, Sefton!" exclaimed his lieutenant-commander.The sub turned and found that Crosthwaite had regained his feet, and was standing beside him upon the partly demolished bridge."You're----", began Sefton, but the lieutenant-commander shut him up."Nothing," he replied laconically. "You might fix me up. Not a word to Stirling, mind. If I keep out of his way, he's not to know. But, by Jove, you've been knocked about a bit."The information, although correct, came as a surprise to Sefton. For the first time he noticed that the coat-sleeve of his left arm was cut away, the remnant hanging by a few threads, while his left wrist was encumbered by a bandage. He must have tied the handkerchief himself, but the action had been purely automatic. Hitherto he had had no knowledge that he had been hit by a splinter, and was quite unaware that he had acted as his own bandager."Carry on," continued Crosthwaite. "I'll stand easy for a while. I'll feel all right in a few minutes."He vanished behind the wreckage of the conning tower, leaving Sefton to survey the scene. It was now light enough to discern the nature of the damage caused by the ordeal through which theCalderhad passed, for the flashes of the distant guns, added to the reflected rays of the search-lights, made it possible to see with fair distinctness.Of theCalder'sfunnels only one remained standing. The others, either swept clean away or lying athwart the deck, left jagged cavities, through which the smoke was pouring from the oil-fed furnaces.The starboard side of the bridge had vanished, with it the domed top of the conning-tower, while the armoured sheets upon the latter, ripped like cardboard, had been torn open, revealing the interior--a jumble of twisted voice-tubes and shattered indicators. The same shell that had wrought havoc with the conning-tower had swept the for'ard 4-inch completely from its mountings, taking its crew with it.Meanwhile a dozen men had boarded theYealm. Her scanty survivors were too done up to tackle the task of heaving out the torpedoes, for, included in the work of destruction, her derricks had shared the fate of the rest of the top-hamper. Others of theCalder'screw were attending to the injuries of their comrades, for, in addition to eight men killed outright, six were mortally wounded, and a dozen more had sustained injuries that would incapacitate them for further service.The plucky messenger who had brought Sefton's reply from the L.T.O. had been carried below. In the heat of the fight he had received a splinter of shell in his chest, the impact fracturing one of the breast-bones. Yet, undaunted, he continued to serve his gun until the destroyer had emerged from the hostile fire. Even then he refused to present himself before the doctor, and was making his way to the fo'c'sle like a wounded animal, when Sefton, unaware of his injuries, had ordered him to take a message aft. This he did, in spite of the increasing pain and faintness, and having delivered the reply he had been forced to collapse.At length the four gleaming cylinders were transferred from theYealmto theCalder'sdecks. Once more the destroyer, although battered sufficiently to justify her retiring from the fight, was made capable of dealing deadly blows at her gigantic antagonists.The "springs" were cast off, and, with the engines running at full speed ahead, theCalderagain hurled herself into the fray.
CHAPTER XII--The Night AttackJust before midnight two columns of destroyers in line ahead slipped away in the darkness, the course being N. 42° E. Without showing so much as a glimmer of light, with their funnels screened with "spark arresters" to prevent the exit of glowing embers from the furnaces, the long, lean craft headed in the supposed direction of the enemy fleet.From the elevated fore-bridge Sefton could scarce distinguish betwixt theCalder'sbows and the dark, heavy waves. The only guide to enable the destroyer to keep station was the phosphorescent swirl at the stern of the vessel next ahead, as her triple propellers churned the water.On deck the men were at the battle-stations, standing motionless and silent. Their faces had been blackened with burnt cork to render them as inconspicuous as possible should the beam of a hostile search-light swing itself athwart their vessel.Although the high-raised fo'c'sle of theCalderwas comparatively dry, showers of spray cast aside by the flaring bows were caught by the strong wind and dashed over the bridge until it was impossible to make use of night-glasses owing to the beads of moisture on the lenses.Beyond a curt, clearly-enunciated order to the quartermaster, neither of the two officers spoke a word, Crosthwaite gripping the guard-rail and peering ahead, while Sefton kept his attention upon the tell-tale greyish smudge that marked the position of the destroyer ahead.The result of years of training at night manoeuvres was bearing fruit. Iron-nerved men were at the helm of each boat--men who had long since got beyond the "jumpy" stage, when strange freaks of imagination conjure up visions of objects that do not exist. A false alarm and a rapid fire from the 4-inch guns would be fatal to the enterprise, the success of which depended entirely upon getting well within torpedo-range without being spotted by the alert foe.A feeble light, screened in all directions save that towards the vessels astern, blinked rapidly from the leading destroyer. It was the signal for the flotilla to form in line abeam."Starboard ten!" ordered Crosthwaite."Starboard ten, sir!" was the helmsman's reply, while the lieutenant-commander telegraphed for speed to be increased to 22 knots in order to bring theCaldereven with the leader.Had it been daylight the manoeuvre would have been executed with the precision of a machine; being night it was impossible to follow the movements of the whole flotilla, but carried out the orders were, each destroyer keeping station with the one nearest on her starboard beam.Suddenly the darkness was penetrated by the dazzling beam of a search-light from a ship at a distance of two miles on theCalder'sport bow. For a moment it hung irresolute, and then swung round in the direction of the on-coming destroyers.A huge black mass intercepted the rays, its outlines silhouetted against the silvery glare. The mass was a German light cruiser, evidently detached for scouting purposes and returning with screened lights towards the main fleet.Instantly a furious cannonade was opened upon the luckless light cruiser from half a dozen of her consorts. For a couple of minutes the firing continued, until, with a tremendous flash and a deafening roar, her magazine exploded."The Huns will never admit their mistake," thought Sefton. "They'll claim to have destroyed another of our ships."Then the sub's whole attention was chained to the work now on hand. Barely had the last of the flying debris from the German light cruiser struck the water when at full speed the British destroyer flotilla hurled itself upon the foe.Played upon by fifty search-lights, the target for a hundred guns, large and small, the destroyers held on with one set purpose, their torpedo-men discharging the 21-inch missiles with rapidity and cool determination.Above the crash of the ordnance could be heard the deeper boom of the torpedoes as they exploded against the ships' bottoms at a depth of fifteen or twenty feet below the surface.Slick in between two large battleships theCalderrushed, letting loose a pair of torpedoes at each of the hostile ships. One torpedo was observed to explode close to the stern of the battleship to starboard, the stricken vessel leaving the line with a decided list and enveloped in smoke."Light cruisers, by Jove!" muttered Sefton, as theCalder, on nearing the end of the enemy line, was confronted by three vessels of the "Wiesbaden" class.A heavy fire greeted the approaching destroyer, but almost without exception the shells went wide of their mark. Then, gathering speed, one of the German light cruisers ported helm and attempted to ram her lightly-built opponent.Making no effort to avoid the danger, theCalderheld on, until Sefton, turning to see what his commanding officer was doing, found Crosthwaite sitting on the bridge with his back against the pedestal of the semaphore, and his hands clasping his right leg just above the knee, and blood oozing from a gash in his forehead.The sub was the only officer on the bridge capable of taking command."Hard-a-starboard!" he shouted, in order to make himself heard above the din.Ever quick on her helm, the destroyer spun round almost on her heel. The German's stem missed her by a couple of feet, while, hurled bodily sideways by the mass of water from the former's bow wave, theCalderslid past with her side-plating almost touching that of her enemy.Simultaneously the Hun let fly a broadside. The destroyer reeled under the shock, but once again she was in luck, for none of the hostile guns could be sufficiently depressed to score a vital hit. The next instant the cruiser was lost to sight in the darkness, saluted by a number of rounds from the destroyer's after 4-inch gun.Temporarily stunned by the detonations of the German cruiser's guns--for he was within twenty feet of the muzzles of several of the weapons--Sefton leaned against the conning-tower. The metal was unpleasantly hot, for a light shell had burst against it hardly a minute before. Beyond denting the steel armour and blowing the signal-locker over the side, the missile had done no further damage.Coughing the acrid fumes from his lungs and clearing his eyes of involuntary tears, for the air was thick with irritating dust, Sefton began to take a renewed interest in his surroundings.TheCalderhad penetrated the hostile line without sustaining serious damage. She had now to return.The sub grasped one of the voice-tubes. The flexible pipe came away in his hand, the whole system having been cut through with a fragment of shell."We've had it pretty hot!" he soliloquized. "Wonder we're still afloat. Well, now for it once more."He leant over the after side of the bridge. A dark figure was moving for'ard ten feet beneath him."Pass the word to the L.T.O.," ordered the sub, "to report the number of torpedoes remaining.""Aye, aye, sir," replied the man, and, retracing his steps, he hurried aft to where the leading torpedo-man was standing at the tubes.Back came the messenger, lurching as he loomed through the darkness."The man hasn't found his sea-legs yet," thought Sefton; then aloud he asked: "Well?""None left, sir," replied the seaman, and, having delivered his message, he pitched upon his face.Sefton had to let him lie there. The sub could not leave the bridge. Even Crosthwaite had to be left alone until the destroyer was out of action.It would have been a futile task to attempt to take theCalderback between the enemy lines. With no other offensive weapons than her comparatively light 4-inch quick-firers, she would be unable to do any serious damage to the huge armoured ships, while at the same time she would be exposed to an overwhelming fire as she passed abeam of the German battleships and light cruisers.So into the darkness, beyond the glare of the search-lights, Sefton took the destroyer, with the intention of making a wide sweep and rejoining the British fleet. Of how theCalder'sconsorts were faring he knew nothing, except that the action was being briskly maintained. Occasionally the foggy night would be rent by a vivid red glare that outclassed the almost continuous flashes of the guns, which illuminated the low-lying clouds like incessant summer lightning. The roar of the ordnance was simply indescribable. It seemed impossible that a man could go through it without having his ear-drums burst by the terrific air-beats of the appalling detonations.A dark shape loomed through the darkness almost athwart theCalder'strack. Only a quick movement of the helm avoided collision with the floating object, which, as theCalderswept by, revealed itself as a large destroyer.On deck she was little better than a wreck. Bridge, conning-tower, funnels, masts, and boats had vanished utterly. Her guns, wrenched from their mountings, pointed upwards at grotesque angles through their shattered shields. Where the torpedo-tubes had been was a jagged hole still spanned by one arc of the gun-metal racer. This much was visible in the reflected glare of the distant search-lights as theCalderswept by with her guns trained abeam should the vessel still be capable of offence.A score of men, mostly engine-room ratings, were gathered amidships on the shattered deck of the crippled vessel. They had desisted from the work on which they were engaged, and were gazing mutely at the destroyer that might be instrumental in giving them thecoup de grâce."What ship is that?" roared Sefton through a megaphone, the intervening distance being less than twenty yards."His Majesty's destroyerYealm," was the reply, flung proudly through the darkness.Thrusting both levers of the engine-room telegraph to "Full Speed Astern" and afterwards to "Stop", the sub brought theCalderto a standstill within easy hailing distance of her disabled consort. Here was a case in which assistance could be rendered without detriment to the interests of the Service. TheCalder, until she could replenish her store of torpedoes, was practically useless as a fighting unit. With her engines undamaged she could tow theYealminto comparative safety, provided she was not intercepted by a straggling hostile ship."Stand by to receive a hawser!" continued Sefton. "We'll give you a pluck out of this.""No; thanks all the same, sir," shouted a deep voice. "We're sound below the water-line, and we can get under way again in a few minutes. We'll take our chances of getting out of it. We gave the swine an almighty punching before they swept our decks. Carry on, sir, and give them another half a dozen for us."It was theYealm'storpedo gunner who spoke, the only surviving executive officer of the gallant destroyer."Can you spare us any torpedoes?" shouted Sefton, an inspiration flashing across his mind."Aye, aye, sir," was the reply. "Four.""Very good; we'll come alongside," rejoined the sub, who thereupon ordered two wire "springs" to be made ready, so as to establish communication between the two destroyers."Well done, Sefton!" exclaimed his lieutenant-commander.The sub turned and found that Crosthwaite had regained his feet, and was standing beside him upon the partly demolished bridge."You're----", began Sefton, but the lieutenant-commander shut him up."Nothing," he replied laconically. "You might fix me up. Not a word to Stirling, mind. If I keep out of his way, he's not to know. But, by Jove, you've been knocked about a bit."The information, although correct, came as a surprise to Sefton. For the first time he noticed that the coat-sleeve of his left arm was cut away, the remnant hanging by a few threads, while his left wrist was encumbered by a bandage. He must have tied the handkerchief himself, but the action had been purely automatic. Hitherto he had had no knowledge that he had been hit by a splinter, and was quite unaware that he had acted as his own bandager."Carry on," continued Crosthwaite. "I'll stand easy for a while. I'll feel all right in a few minutes."He vanished behind the wreckage of the conning tower, leaving Sefton to survey the scene. It was now light enough to discern the nature of the damage caused by the ordeal through which theCalderhad passed, for the flashes of the distant guns, added to the reflected rays of the search-lights, made it possible to see with fair distinctness.Of theCalder'sfunnels only one remained standing. The others, either swept clean away or lying athwart the deck, left jagged cavities, through which the smoke was pouring from the oil-fed furnaces.The starboard side of the bridge had vanished, with it the domed top of the conning-tower, while the armoured sheets upon the latter, ripped like cardboard, had been torn open, revealing the interior--a jumble of twisted voice-tubes and shattered indicators. The same shell that had wrought havoc with the conning-tower had swept the for'ard 4-inch completely from its mountings, taking its crew with it.Meanwhile a dozen men had boarded theYealm. Her scanty survivors were too done up to tackle the task of heaving out the torpedoes, for, included in the work of destruction, her derricks had shared the fate of the rest of the top-hamper. Others of theCalder'screw were attending to the injuries of their comrades, for, in addition to eight men killed outright, six were mortally wounded, and a dozen more had sustained injuries that would incapacitate them for further service.The plucky messenger who had brought Sefton's reply from the L.T.O. had been carried below. In the heat of the fight he had received a splinter of shell in his chest, the impact fracturing one of the breast-bones. Yet, undaunted, he continued to serve his gun until the destroyer had emerged from the hostile fire. Even then he refused to present himself before the doctor, and was making his way to the fo'c'sle like a wounded animal, when Sefton, unaware of his injuries, had ordered him to take a message aft. This he did, in spite of the increasing pain and faintness, and having delivered the reply he had been forced to collapse.At length the four gleaming cylinders were transferred from theYealmto theCalder'sdecks. Once more the destroyer, although battered sufficiently to justify her retiring from the fight, was made capable of dealing deadly blows at her gigantic antagonists.The "springs" were cast off, and, with the engines running at full speed ahead, theCalderagain hurled herself into the fray.
Just before midnight two columns of destroyers in line ahead slipped away in the darkness, the course being N. 42° E. Without showing so much as a glimmer of light, with their funnels screened with "spark arresters" to prevent the exit of glowing embers from the furnaces, the long, lean craft headed in the supposed direction of the enemy fleet.
From the elevated fore-bridge Sefton could scarce distinguish betwixt theCalder'sbows and the dark, heavy waves. The only guide to enable the destroyer to keep station was the phosphorescent swirl at the stern of the vessel next ahead, as her triple propellers churned the water.
On deck the men were at the battle-stations, standing motionless and silent. Their faces had been blackened with burnt cork to render them as inconspicuous as possible should the beam of a hostile search-light swing itself athwart their vessel.
Although the high-raised fo'c'sle of theCalderwas comparatively dry, showers of spray cast aside by the flaring bows were caught by the strong wind and dashed over the bridge until it was impossible to make use of night-glasses owing to the beads of moisture on the lenses.
Beyond a curt, clearly-enunciated order to the quartermaster, neither of the two officers spoke a word, Crosthwaite gripping the guard-rail and peering ahead, while Sefton kept his attention upon the tell-tale greyish smudge that marked the position of the destroyer ahead.
The result of years of training at night manoeuvres was bearing fruit. Iron-nerved men were at the helm of each boat--men who had long since got beyond the "jumpy" stage, when strange freaks of imagination conjure up visions of objects that do not exist. A false alarm and a rapid fire from the 4-inch guns would be fatal to the enterprise, the success of which depended entirely upon getting well within torpedo-range without being spotted by the alert foe.
A feeble light, screened in all directions save that towards the vessels astern, blinked rapidly from the leading destroyer. It was the signal for the flotilla to form in line abeam.
"Starboard ten!" ordered Crosthwaite.
"Starboard ten, sir!" was the helmsman's reply, while the lieutenant-commander telegraphed for speed to be increased to 22 knots in order to bring theCaldereven with the leader.
Had it been daylight the manoeuvre would have been executed with the precision of a machine; being night it was impossible to follow the movements of the whole flotilla, but carried out the orders were, each destroyer keeping station with the one nearest on her starboard beam.
Suddenly the darkness was penetrated by the dazzling beam of a search-light from a ship at a distance of two miles on theCalder'sport bow. For a moment it hung irresolute, and then swung round in the direction of the on-coming destroyers.
A huge black mass intercepted the rays, its outlines silhouetted against the silvery glare. The mass was a German light cruiser, evidently detached for scouting purposes and returning with screened lights towards the main fleet.
Instantly a furious cannonade was opened upon the luckless light cruiser from half a dozen of her consorts. For a couple of minutes the firing continued, until, with a tremendous flash and a deafening roar, her magazine exploded.
"The Huns will never admit their mistake," thought Sefton. "They'll claim to have destroyed another of our ships."
Then the sub's whole attention was chained to the work now on hand. Barely had the last of the flying debris from the German light cruiser struck the water when at full speed the British destroyer flotilla hurled itself upon the foe.
Played upon by fifty search-lights, the target for a hundred guns, large and small, the destroyers held on with one set purpose, their torpedo-men discharging the 21-inch missiles with rapidity and cool determination.
Above the crash of the ordnance could be heard the deeper boom of the torpedoes as they exploded against the ships' bottoms at a depth of fifteen or twenty feet below the surface.
Slick in between two large battleships theCalderrushed, letting loose a pair of torpedoes at each of the hostile ships. One torpedo was observed to explode close to the stern of the battleship to starboard, the stricken vessel leaving the line with a decided list and enveloped in smoke.
"Light cruisers, by Jove!" muttered Sefton, as theCalder, on nearing the end of the enemy line, was confronted by three vessels of the "Wiesbaden" class.
A heavy fire greeted the approaching destroyer, but almost without exception the shells went wide of their mark. Then, gathering speed, one of the German light cruisers ported helm and attempted to ram her lightly-built opponent.
Making no effort to avoid the danger, theCalderheld on, until Sefton, turning to see what his commanding officer was doing, found Crosthwaite sitting on the bridge with his back against the pedestal of the semaphore, and his hands clasping his right leg just above the knee, and blood oozing from a gash in his forehead.
The sub was the only officer on the bridge capable of taking command.
"Hard-a-starboard!" he shouted, in order to make himself heard above the din.
Ever quick on her helm, the destroyer spun round almost on her heel. The German's stem missed her by a couple of feet, while, hurled bodily sideways by the mass of water from the former's bow wave, theCalderslid past with her side-plating almost touching that of her enemy.
Simultaneously the Hun let fly a broadside. The destroyer reeled under the shock, but once again she was in luck, for none of the hostile guns could be sufficiently depressed to score a vital hit. The next instant the cruiser was lost to sight in the darkness, saluted by a number of rounds from the destroyer's after 4-inch gun.
Temporarily stunned by the detonations of the German cruiser's guns--for he was within twenty feet of the muzzles of several of the weapons--Sefton leaned against the conning-tower. The metal was unpleasantly hot, for a light shell had burst against it hardly a minute before. Beyond denting the steel armour and blowing the signal-locker over the side, the missile had done no further damage.
Coughing the acrid fumes from his lungs and clearing his eyes of involuntary tears, for the air was thick with irritating dust, Sefton began to take a renewed interest in his surroundings.
TheCalderhad penetrated the hostile line without sustaining serious damage. She had now to return.
The sub grasped one of the voice-tubes. The flexible pipe came away in his hand, the whole system having been cut through with a fragment of shell.
"We've had it pretty hot!" he soliloquized. "Wonder we're still afloat. Well, now for it once more."
He leant over the after side of the bridge. A dark figure was moving for'ard ten feet beneath him.
"Pass the word to the L.T.O.," ordered the sub, "to report the number of torpedoes remaining."
"Aye, aye, sir," replied the man, and, retracing his steps, he hurried aft to where the leading torpedo-man was standing at the tubes.
Back came the messenger, lurching as he loomed through the darkness.
"The man hasn't found his sea-legs yet," thought Sefton; then aloud he asked: "Well?"
"None left, sir," replied the seaman, and, having delivered his message, he pitched upon his face.
Sefton had to let him lie there. The sub could not leave the bridge. Even Crosthwaite had to be left alone until the destroyer was out of action.
It would have been a futile task to attempt to take theCalderback between the enemy lines. With no other offensive weapons than her comparatively light 4-inch quick-firers, she would be unable to do any serious damage to the huge armoured ships, while at the same time she would be exposed to an overwhelming fire as she passed abeam of the German battleships and light cruisers.
So into the darkness, beyond the glare of the search-lights, Sefton took the destroyer, with the intention of making a wide sweep and rejoining the British fleet. Of how theCalder'sconsorts were faring he knew nothing, except that the action was being briskly maintained. Occasionally the foggy night would be rent by a vivid red glare that outclassed the almost continuous flashes of the guns, which illuminated the low-lying clouds like incessant summer lightning. The roar of the ordnance was simply indescribable. It seemed impossible that a man could go through it without having his ear-drums burst by the terrific air-beats of the appalling detonations.
A dark shape loomed through the darkness almost athwart theCalder'strack. Only a quick movement of the helm avoided collision with the floating object, which, as theCalderswept by, revealed itself as a large destroyer.
On deck she was little better than a wreck. Bridge, conning-tower, funnels, masts, and boats had vanished utterly. Her guns, wrenched from their mountings, pointed upwards at grotesque angles through their shattered shields. Where the torpedo-tubes had been was a jagged hole still spanned by one arc of the gun-metal racer. This much was visible in the reflected glare of the distant search-lights as theCalderswept by with her guns trained abeam should the vessel still be capable of offence.
A score of men, mostly engine-room ratings, were gathered amidships on the shattered deck of the crippled vessel. They had desisted from the work on which they were engaged, and were gazing mutely at the destroyer that might be instrumental in giving them thecoup de grâce.
"What ship is that?" roared Sefton through a megaphone, the intervening distance being less than twenty yards.
"His Majesty's destroyerYealm," was the reply, flung proudly through the darkness.
Thrusting both levers of the engine-room telegraph to "Full Speed Astern" and afterwards to "Stop", the sub brought theCalderto a standstill within easy hailing distance of her disabled consort. Here was a case in which assistance could be rendered without detriment to the interests of the Service. TheCalder, until she could replenish her store of torpedoes, was practically useless as a fighting unit. With her engines undamaged she could tow theYealminto comparative safety, provided she was not intercepted by a straggling hostile ship.
"Stand by to receive a hawser!" continued Sefton. "We'll give you a pluck out of this."
"No; thanks all the same, sir," shouted a deep voice. "We're sound below the water-line, and we can get under way again in a few minutes. We'll take our chances of getting out of it. We gave the swine an almighty punching before they swept our decks. Carry on, sir, and give them another half a dozen for us."
It was theYealm'storpedo gunner who spoke, the only surviving executive officer of the gallant destroyer.
"Can you spare us any torpedoes?" shouted Sefton, an inspiration flashing across his mind.
"Aye, aye, sir," was the reply. "Four."
"Very good; we'll come alongside," rejoined the sub, who thereupon ordered two wire "springs" to be made ready, so as to establish communication between the two destroyers.
"Well done, Sefton!" exclaimed his lieutenant-commander.
The sub turned and found that Crosthwaite had regained his feet, and was standing beside him upon the partly demolished bridge.
"You're----", began Sefton, but the lieutenant-commander shut him up.
"Nothing," he replied laconically. "You might fix me up. Not a word to Stirling, mind. If I keep out of his way, he's not to know. But, by Jove, you've been knocked about a bit."
The information, although correct, came as a surprise to Sefton. For the first time he noticed that the coat-sleeve of his left arm was cut away, the remnant hanging by a few threads, while his left wrist was encumbered by a bandage. He must have tied the handkerchief himself, but the action had been purely automatic. Hitherto he had had no knowledge that he had been hit by a splinter, and was quite unaware that he had acted as his own bandager.
"Carry on," continued Crosthwaite. "I'll stand easy for a while. I'll feel all right in a few minutes."
He vanished behind the wreckage of the conning tower, leaving Sefton to survey the scene. It was now light enough to discern the nature of the damage caused by the ordeal through which theCalderhad passed, for the flashes of the distant guns, added to the reflected rays of the search-lights, made it possible to see with fair distinctness.
Of theCalder'sfunnels only one remained standing. The others, either swept clean away or lying athwart the deck, left jagged cavities, through which the smoke was pouring from the oil-fed furnaces.
The starboard side of the bridge had vanished, with it the domed top of the conning-tower, while the armoured sheets upon the latter, ripped like cardboard, had been torn open, revealing the interior--a jumble of twisted voice-tubes and shattered indicators. The same shell that had wrought havoc with the conning-tower had swept the for'ard 4-inch completely from its mountings, taking its crew with it.
Meanwhile a dozen men had boarded theYealm. Her scanty survivors were too done up to tackle the task of heaving out the torpedoes, for, included in the work of destruction, her derricks had shared the fate of the rest of the top-hamper. Others of theCalder'screw were attending to the injuries of their comrades, for, in addition to eight men killed outright, six were mortally wounded, and a dozen more had sustained injuries that would incapacitate them for further service.
The plucky messenger who had brought Sefton's reply from the L.T.O. had been carried below. In the heat of the fight he had received a splinter of shell in his chest, the impact fracturing one of the breast-bones. Yet, undaunted, he continued to serve his gun until the destroyer had emerged from the hostile fire. Even then he refused to present himself before the doctor, and was making his way to the fo'c'sle like a wounded animal, when Sefton, unaware of his injuries, had ordered him to take a message aft. This he did, in spite of the increasing pain and faintness, and having delivered the reply he had been forced to collapse.
At length the four gleaming cylinders were transferred from theYealmto theCalder'sdecks. Once more the destroyer, although battered sufficiently to justify her retiring from the fight, was made capable of dealing deadly blows at her gigantic antagonists.
The "springs" were cast off, and, with the engines running at full speed ahead, theCalderagain hurled herself into the fray.