CHAPTER XXIII--And Last"There's a bit of a dust-up on board, sir," reported Sub-lieutenant Devereux of Submarine E--, as the British craft steadily overhauled theKondor, whose engines had already been stopped in response to the peremptory signal. "Fellows scrapping like billy-ho. I can just see their heads at intervals above the taffrail.""They can scrap as much as they like while they have the chance," remarked Lieutenant-Commander Huxtable grimly. "You know your instructions, Mr. Devereux? Any rumpus, then signal us, and we'll give them our last torpedo."A canvas collapsible boat had been brought up from below, and in this the boarding-officer and five seamen, all armed, took their places. Both theKondorand the submarine were almost without way, lying at two cables'-lengths apart, E--'s two quick-firers covering the prize as the boat made for the German vessel.Devereux was received with well-feigned affability by the soi-disant Swedish skipper, a politeness that the sub thought fit to reciprocate, at least for the present.But when Devereux had examined the supposedGefle'spapers his manner underwent a change."Thanks for letting me see them, Herr Kapitan," he remarked, "but now I must ask you to order your crew below and consider yourself a prisoner of war. I warn you that at any attempt at resistance your ship will be sent to the bottom.""But----," began the astonished Hun. "I--I do not understand. This Swedish merchant-ship. You mistake make.""Perhaps," drawled the sub. "If I have, I'll take full responsibility. If you can satisfactorily explain to the British naval authorities why you were surrounded by Hun submarines yesterday, why you supplied them with munitions of war, why you were then His Imperial Majesty's shipKondor, and why you are now the s.s.Gefle----.""Donnerwetter!" ejaculated the German skipper furiously, then, before Devereux could interpose, he dashed out of the chart-house and shouted to one of the officers stationed aft.Almost immediately a muffled explosion was heard, and theKondor, giving a violent shudder, began to settle by the stern. Rather than surrender, their captain had given orders for a bomb to be exploded in the after hold."We have cheated you, Englishman!" he exclaimed in a shrill falsetto.There was a wild rush for the boats. Hastily those in davits were lowered, with the result that one was capsized, while in the confusion a German seaman leapt headlong into the submarine's collapsible boat and overturned it.To do him credit, the kapitan made no attempt to quit the bridge. Regarding the British officer with a leer of triumph, he waited while the panic-stricken men got clear of the doomed ship.Meanwhile, having witnessed the swamping of her dinghy, E--had approached with the intention of taking off her boarding-party."What's that?" exclaimed Devereux, as, during a temporary lull in the clamour, the sound of a voice appealing for help was borne to his ears. The words were shouted in unmistakable English."Someone cooped up down below, sir," declared one of the submarine's crew.Devereux looked enquiringly at the German skipper of theKondor. The latter too had heard the shout. The self-assurance and air of contemptuous indifference faded instantly."You murderous swine!" ejaculated the sub. "What dirty game have you been up to? Come along down below with me."The Hun, trembling violently, clung desperately to the bridge rail. The risk of going below and being taken down by the sinking ship was nothing compared with the fear of a just retribution.It was not a suitable occasion for arguing the point. Devereux, a huge, loose-limbed fellow, was a giant beside the little, podgy Hun.Wrenching the kapitan's hand from the rail, Devereux dropped him to the deck like a sack of flour, then, skipping down the bridge ladder, he picked him up and carried him, screaming and struggling, down the companion.Guided by the sounds, the sub bore his captive for'ard, two of the submarine's crew following their youthful officer.Already the stern of theKondorwas almost level with the water, while her decks inclined at a steep angle. Above the noise of the inrushing water and the hiss of escaping steam, could be heard the now frantic appeal for help.At the door of the cell Devereux was confronted by a grave problem. The place was locked, and the kapitan, asserting truthfully that he did not possess a key, was clamouring incoherently that the mistake in overlooking the fact that there were prisoners below was not his, but that of some of his subordinates."Stand aside there!" shouted Devereux to the inmates of the cell.Whipping out his revolver he sent a bullet crashing through the lock, then, heedless of the cry of agony that came from the German skipper, he charged the splintered door with his shoulder.In the half light he was dimly aware that two people were scrambling between the debris."Any more?" he asked."No," was the reply, as the two rescued men, assisted by the sailors, reeled along the sloping alley-way to the ladder.Having seen the would-be victims of GermanKultursafely on their way to the upper deck, Devereux realized that it was quite time to make good his own escape, for the water was beginning to surge for'ard along the sombre orlop deck. As he turned to make his way aft he became aware that the kapitan, moaning dismally, was staggering in the opposite direction, whence there was no outlet."Where are you off to, you blithering idiot?" shouted the young officer.In a couple of strides he overtook the Hun, gripped him round the waist, and carried him on deck. Then, to his surprise, Devereux found that the kapitan's face was streaming with blood. A sliver of lead from the bullet that had demolished the lock of the cell had struck him in the right eye, completely destroying the optic nerve."Can't say I feel sorry for you," thought the sub-lieutenant, recollections of the cold-blooded cruelty of the Hun vividly in his mind. Nevertheless, still holding the injured skipper, he leapt overboard, whither the rest of the boarding-party had preceded him.Strong as he was, Devereux had a hard tussle to swim to the submarine. Caught by vicious eddies, swirled to and fro like a straw on the surface of a mountain torrent, he was almost exhausted when hauled into safety.Giving a glance over his shoulder as he was assisted to the deck of his own craft, Devereux saw that theKondorwas making her last plunge. Throwing her bluff bows high in the air, she disappeared in a smother of foam and a pall of black smoke mingled with steam.Then, to his surprise, upon going aft to report to his commanding officer, Devereux found Huxtable shaking, like a pump-handle, the hand of one of the men he had rescued."By Jove!" exclaimed the astonished Devereux. "Blest if we haven't----! Why, it's Sefton!""Guilty, m'lud!" replied that worthy."And Crosthwaite--he wasn't on that hooker?" asked Devereux anxiously."No, thank heaven," replied Sefton fervently. "He's still in hospital. This is my young brother. I've got to blame him for this business, the young rascal. It was a narrow squeak for the pair of us.""It was," assented Huxtable gravely. "We spotted theKondoryesterday and kept her under observation.""Then you bagged that Hun battleship?" enquired Sefton."No, worse luck," replied the lieutenant-commander of E--. "She altered helm just as we were having a shot at her, and some other fellows did the trick. Mustn't complain, though. We are all members of the same co-operative society in the trade. TheKondor'screw? A few hours in the boats won't hurt them, and I'll wireless our destroyers. They are too villainous a crew to slip out of our hands. Come below, old man, and we'll rig the pair of you out in dry kit. With luck, you ought to be in Pompey again within twenty-four hours."————Pacing the diminutive quarter-deck of H.M.T.B.D.Boanerges, as she swung to the first of the flood-tide, were two naval officers. It was too dark to distinguish their features, even in the red glow of their cigarettes.Three months had elapsed since the desperate struggle on Blackstone Edge. TheBoanerges, a brand-new destroyer recently delivered from the Clyde, had just commissioned at Portsmouth for service with the Grand Fleet."My dear Boxspanner," remarked the taller of the twain, "I've come to the conclusion that life ashore isn't worth the candle. In common parlance, I'm fed up. The last straw is the abominable petrol tax. Just fancy, the blighters allow me two gallons a month----""You weren't on leave for more than three weeks, Pills," interrupted the engineer-lieutenant."Just so; that's the rub. I could have done with a three months' allowance, and used the lot in a week. By the way, talking of that new carburetter----""Boat ahoy!" came a hoarse hail from the fo'c'sle as the lynx-eyed look-out detected a dark object approaching under oars towards the destroyer."Aye, aye!" was the orthodox reply, given in clear, decisive tones.The boat was brought smartly alongside the accommodation-ladder, and a young officer came briskly over the side. Jack Sefton, "sub" no longer but a full-fledged "luff", as the two gold rings, surmounted by a curl, on each of his sleeves denoted."Well?" enquired Boxspanner eagerly. "Have you seen Crosthwaite?""Saw him this afternoon," was the reply. "Passed the medical board with flying colours. He's reported fit for duty on the 8th.""Good business!" ejaculated Stirling fervently."And," continued Sefton, "I'm in the know. Our owner's due for promotion. He'll be given a light cruiser; and unless I'm very much mistaken we'll have Crosthwaite as our skipper before long.""Quartermaster!" said Sefton, as he turned to descend the companion-ladder."Sir," replied that worthy, already known to our readers as Thomas Brown, A.B., but now a promising petty officer."See that I am turned out at 5.45.""Aye, aye, sir."The three officers disappeared below. The quartermaster smiled grimly as the faint words of the chorus of "They don't run corridor cars on our branch line" caught his ear, followed by an emphatic "Chuck it, old bird.""Proper jonnick they are, every mother's son of 'em," muttered P.O. Brown, as he walked for'ard. "Chaps as us fellows would go through 'ell with, if we ain't done so already," his thought reverting to that memorable action in the North Sea when the Huns fled before Jellicoe's armed might.And thus we say "Adieu," or perhaps "Au revoir," to three gallant gentlemen who had so worthily played their parts in upholding the honour of the White Ensign with Beatty off Jutland.*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKWITH BEATTY OFF JUTLAND***
CHAPTER XXIII--And Last"There's a bit of a dust-up on board, sir," reported Sub-lieutenant Devereux of Submarine E--, as the British craft steadily overhauled theKondor, whose engines had already been stopped in response to the peremptory signal. "Fellows scrapping like billy-ho. I can just see their heads at intervals above the taffrail.""They can scrap as much as they like while they have the chance," remarked Lieutenant-Commander Huxtable grimly. "You know your instructions, Mr. Devereux? Any rumpus, then signal us, and we'll give them our last torpedo."A canvas collapsible boat had been brought up from below, and in this the boarding-officer and five seamen, all armed, took their places. Both theKondorand the submarine were almost without way, lying at two cables'-lengths apart, E--'s two quick-firers covering the prize as the boat made for the German vessel.Devereux was received with well-feigned affability by the soi-disant Swedish skipper, a politeness that the sub thought fit to reciprocate, at least for the present.But when Devereux had examined the supposedGefle'spapers his manner underwent a change."Thanks for letting me see them, Herr Kapitan," he remarked, "but now I must ask you to order your crew below and consider yourself a prisoner of war. I warn you that at any attempt at resistance your ship will be sent to the bottom.""But----," began the astonished Hun. "I--I do not understand. This Swedish merchant-ship. You mistake make.""Perhaps," drawled the sub. "If I have, I'll take full responsibility. If you can satisfactorily explain to the British naval authorities why you were surrounded by Hun submarines yesterday, why you supplied them with munitions of war, why you were then His Imperial Majesty's shipKondor, and why you are now the s.s.Gefle----.""Donnerwetter!" ejaculated the German skipper furiously, then, before Devereux could interpose, he dashed out of the chart-house and shouted to one of the officers stationed aft.Almost immediately a muffled explosion was heard, and theKondor, giving a violent shudder, began to settle by the stern. Rather than surrender, their captain had given orders for a bomb to be exploded in the after hold."We have cheated you, Englishman!" he exclaimed in a shrill falsetto.There was a wild rush for the boats. Hastily those in davits were lowered, with the result that one was capsized, while in the confusion a German seaman leapt headlong into the submarine's collapsible boat and overturned it.To do him credit, the kapitan made no attempt to quit the bridge. Regarding the British officer with a leer of triumph, he waited while the panic-stricken men got clear of the doomed ship.Meanwhile, having witnessed the swamping of her dinghy, E--had approached with the intention of taking off her boarding-party."What's that?" exclaimed Devereux, as, during a temporary lull in the clamour, the sound of a voice appealing for help was borne to his ears. The words were shouted in unmistakable English."Someone cooped up down below, sir," declared one of the submarine's crew.Devereux looked enquiringly at the German skipper of theKondor. The latter too had heard the shout. The self-assurance and air of contemptuous indifference faded instantly."You murderous swine!" ejaculated the sub. "What dirty game have you been up to? Come along down below with me."The Hun, trembling violently, clung desperately to the bridge rail. The risk of going below and being taken down by the sinking ship was nothing compared with the fear of a just retribution.It was not a suitable occasion for arguing the point. Devereux, a huge, loose-limbed fellow, was a giant beside the little, podgy Hun.Wrenching the kapitan's hand from the rail, Devereux dropped him to the deck like a sack of flour, then, skipping down the bridge ladder, he picked him up and carried him, screaming and struggling, down the companion.Guided by the sounds, the sub bore his captive for'ard, two of the submarine's crew following their youthful officer.Already the stern of theKondorwas almost level with the water, while her decks inclined at a steep angle. Above the noise of the inrushing water and the hiss of escaping steam, could be heard the now frantic appeal for help.At the door of the cell Devereux was confronted by a grave problem. The place was locked, and the kapitan, asserting truthfully that he did not possess a key, was clamouring incoherently that the mistake in overlooking the fact that there were prisoners below was not his, but that of some of his subordinates."Stand aside there!" shouted Devereux to the inmates of the cell.Whipping out his revolver he sent a bullet crashing through the lock, then, heedless of the cry of agony that came from the German skipper, he charged the splintered door with his shoulder.In the half light he was dimly aware that two people were scrambling between the debris."Any more?" he asked."No," was the reply, as the two rescued men, assisted by the sailors, reeled along the sloping alley-way to the ladder.Having seen the would-be victims of GermanKultursafely on their way to the upper deck, Devereux realized that it was quite time to make good his own escape, for the water was beginning to surge for'ard along the sombre orlop deck. As he turned to make his way aft he became aware that the kapitan, moaning dismally, was staggering in the opposite direction, whence there was no outlet."Where are you off to, you blithering idiot?" shouted the young officer.In a couple of strides he overtook the Hun, gripped him round the waist, and carried him on deck. Then, to his surprise, Devereux found that the kapitan's face was streaming with blood. A sliver of lead from the bullet that had demolished the lock of the cell had struck him in the right eye, completely destroying the optic nerve."Can't say I feel sorry for you," thought the sub-lieutenant, recollections of the cold-blooded cruelty of the Hun vividly in his mind. Nevertheless, still holding the injured skipper, he leapt overboard, whither the rest of the boarding-party had preceded him.Strong as he was, Devereux had a hard tussle to swim to the submarine. Caught by vicious eddies, swirled to and fro like a straw on the surface of a mountain torrent, he was almost exhausted when hauled into safety.Giving a glance over his shoulder as he was assisted to the deck of his own craft, Devereux saw that theKondorwas making her last plunge. Throwing her bluff bows high in the air, she disappeared in a smother of foam and a pall of black smoke mingled with steam.Then, to his surprise, upon going aft to report to his commanding officer, Devereux found Huxtable shaking, like a pump-handle, the hand of one of the men he had rescued."By Jove!" exclaimed the astonished Devereux. "Blest if we haven't----! Why, it's Sefton!""Guilty, m'lud!" replied that worthy."And Crosthwaite--he wasn't on that hooker?" asked Devereux anxiously."No, thank heaven," replied Sefton fervently. "He's still in hospital. This is my young brother. I've got to blame him for this business, the young rascal. It was a narrow squeak for the pair of us.""It was," assented Huxtable gravely. "We spotted theKondoryesterday and kept her under observation.""Then you bagged that Hun battleship?" enquired Sefton."No, worse luck," replied the lieutenant-commander of E--. "She altered helm just as we were having a shot at her, and some other fellows did the trick. Mustn't complain, though. We are all members of the same co-operative society in the trade. TheKondor'screw? A few hours in the boats won't hurt them, and I'll wireless our destroyers. They are too villainous a crew to slip out of our hands. Come below, old man, and we'll rig the pair of you out in dry kit. With luck, you ought to be in Pompey again within twenty-four hours."————Pacing the diminutive quarter-deck of H.M.T.B.D.Boanerges, as she swung to the first of the flood-tide, were two naval officers. It was too dark to distinguish their features, even in the red glow of their cigarettes.Three months had elapsed since the desperate struggle on Blackstone Edge. TheBoanerges, a brand-new destroyer recently delivered from the Clyde, had just commissioned at Portsmouth for service with the Grand Fleet."My dear Boxspanner," remarked the taller of the twain, "I've come to the conclusion that life ashore isn't worth the candle. In common parlance, I'm fed up. The last straw is the abominable petrol tax. Just fancy, the blighters allow me two gallons a month----""You weren't on leave for more than three weeks, Pills," interrupted the engineer-lieutenant."Just so; that's the rub. I could have done with a three months' allowance, and used the lot in a week. By the way, talking of that new carburetter----""Boat ahoy!" came a hoarse hail from the fo'c'sle as the lynx-eyed look-out detected a dark object approaching under oars towards the destroyer."Aye, aye!" was the orthodox reply, given in clear, decisive tones.The boat was brought smartly alongside the accommodation-ladder, and a young officer came briskly over the side. Jack Sefton, "sub" no longer but a full-fledged "luff", as the two gold rings, surmounted by a curl, on each of his sleeves denoted."Well?" enquired Boxspanner eagerly. "Have you seen Crosthwaite?""Saw him this afternoon," was the reply. "Passed the medical board with flying colours. He's reported fit for duty on the 8th.""Good business!" ejaculated Stirling fervently."And," continued Sefton, "I'm in the know. Our owner's due for promotion. He'll be given a light cruiser; and unless I'm very much mistaken we'll have Crosthwaite as our skipper before long.""Quartermaster!" said Sefton, as he turned to descend the companion-ladder."Sir," replied that worthy, already known to our readers as Thomas Brown, A.B., but now a promising petty officer."See that I am turned out at 5.45.""Aye, aye, sir."The three officers disappeared below. The quartermaster smiled grimly as the faint words of the chorus of "They don't run corridor cars on our branch line" caught his ear, followed by an emphatic "Chuck it, old bird.""Proper jonnick they are, every mother's son of 'em," muttered P.O. Brown, as he walked for'ard. "Chaps as us fellows would go through 'ell with, if we ain't done so already," his thought reverting to that memorable action in the North Sea when the Huns fled before Jellicoe's armed might.And thus we say "Adieu," or perhaps "Au revoir," to three gallant gentlemen who had so worthily played their parts in upholding the honour of the White Ensign with Beatty off Jutland.*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKWITH BEATTY OFF JUTLAND***
"There's a bit of a dust-up on board, sir," reported Sub-lieutenant Devereux of Submarine E--, as the British craft steadily overhauled theKondor, whose engines had already been stopped in response to the peremptory signal. "Fellows scrapping like billy-ho. I can just see their heads at intervals above the taffrail."
"They can scrap as much as they like while they have the chance," remarked Lieutenant-Commander Huxtable grimly. "You know your instructions, Mr. Devereux? Any rumpus, then signal us, and we'll give them our last torpedo."
A canvas collapsible boat had been brought up from below, and in this the boarding-officer and five seamen, all armed, took their places. Both theKondorand the submarine were almost without way, lying at two cables'-lengths apart, E--'s two quick-firers covering the prize as the boat made for the German vessel.
Devereux was received with well-feigned affability by the soi-disant Swedish skipper, a politeness that the sub thought fit to reciprocate, at least for the present.
But when Devereux had examined the supposedGefle'spapers his manner underwent a change.
"Thanks for letting me see them, Herr Kapitan," he remarked, "but now I must ask you to order your crew below and consider yourself a prisoner of war. I warn you that at any attempt at resistance your ship will be sent to the bottom."
"But----," began the astonished Hun. "I--I do not understand. This Swedish merchant-ship. You mistake make."
"Perhaps," drawled the sub. "If I have, I'll take full responsibility. If you can satisfactorily explain to the British naval authorities why you were surrounded by Hun submarines yesterday, why you supplied them with munitions of war, why you were then His Imperial Majesty's shipKondor, and why you are now the s.s.Gefle----."
"Donnerwetter!" ejaculated the German skipper furiously, then, before Devereux could interpose, he dashed out of the chart-house and shouted to one of the officers stationed aft.
Almost immediately a muffled explosion was heard, and theKondor, giving a violent shudder, began to settle by the stern. Rather than surrender, their captain had given orders for a bomb to be exploded in the after hold.
"We have cheated you, Englishman!" he exclaimed in a shrill falsetto.
There was a wild rush for the boats. Hastily those in davits were lowered, with the result that one was capsized, while in the confusion a German seaman leapt headlong into the submarine's collapsible boat and overturned it.
To do him credit, the kapitan made no attempt to quit the bridge. Regarding the British officer with a leer of triumph, he waited while the panic-stricken men got clear of the doomed ship.
Meanwhile, having witnessed the swamping of her dinghy, E--had approached with the intention of taking off her boarding-party.
"What's that?" exclaimed Devereux, as, during a temporary lull in the clamour, the sound of a voice appealing for help was borne to his ears. The words were shouted in unmistakable English.
"Someone cooped up down below, sir," declared one of the submarine's crew.
Devereux looked enquiringly at the German skipper of theKondor. The latter too had heard the shout. The self-assurance and air of contemptuous indifference faded instantly.
"You murderous swine!" ejaculated the sub. "What dirty game have you been up to? Come along down below with me."
The Hun, trembling violently, clung desperately to the bridge rail. The risk of going below and being taken down by the sinking ship was nothing compared with the fear of a just retribution.
It was not a suitable occasion for arguing the point. Devereux, a huge, loose-limbed fellow, was a giant beside the little, podgy Hun.
Wrenching the kapitan's hand from the rail, Devereux dropped him to the deck like a sack of flour, then, skipping down the bridge ladder, he picked him up and carried him, screaming and struggling, down the companion.
Guided by the sounds, the sub bore his captive for'ard, two of the submarine's crew following their youthful officer.
Already the stern of theKondorwas almost level with the water, while her decks inclined at a steep angle. Above the noise of the inrushing water and the hiss of escaping steam, could be heard the now frantic appeal for help.
At the door of the cell Devereux was confronted by a grave problem. The place was locked, and the kapitan, asserting truthfully that he did not possess a key, was clamouring incoherently that the mistake in overlooking the fact that there were prisoners below was not his, but that of some of his subordinates.
"Stand aside there!" shouted Devereux to the inmates of the cell.
Whipping out his revolver he sent a bullet crashing through the lock, then, heedless of the cry of agony that came from the German skipper, he charged the splintered door with his shoulder.
In the half light he was dimly aware that two people were scrambling between the debris.
"Any more?" he asked.
"No," was the reply, as the two rescued men, assisted by the sailors, reeled along the sloping alley-way to the ladder.
Having seen the would-be victims of GermanKultursafely on their way to the upper deck, Devereux realized that it was quite time to make good his own escape, for the water was beginning to surge for'ard along the sombre orlop deck. As he turned to make his way aft he became aware that the kapitan, moaning dismally, was staggering in the opposite direction, whence there was no outlet.
"Where are you off to, you blithering idiot?" shouted the young officer.
In a couple of strides he overtook the Hun, gripped him round the waist, and carried him on deck. Then, to his surprise, Devereux found that the kapitan's face was streaming with blood. A sliver of lead from the bullet that had demolished the lock of the cell had struck him in the right eye, completely destroying the optic nerve.
"Can't say I feel sorry for you," thought the sub-lieutenant, recollections of the cold-blooded cruelty of the Hun vividly in his mind. Nevertheless, still holding the injured skipper, he leapt overboard, whither the rest of the boarding-party had preceded him.
Strong as he was, Devereux had a hard tussle to swim to the submarine. Caught by vicious eddies, swirled to and fro like a straw on the surface of a mountain torrent, he was almost exhausted when hauled into safety.
Giving a glance over his shoulder as he was assisted to the deck of his own craft, Devereux saw that theKondorwas making her last plunge. Throwing her bluff bows high in the air, she disappeared in a smother of foam and a pall of black smoke mingled with steam.
Then, to his surprise, upon going aft to report to his commanding officer, Devereux found Huxtable shaking, like a pump-handle, the hand of one of the men he had rescued.
"By Jove!" exclaimed the astonished Devereux. "Blest if we haven't----! Why, it's Sefton!"
"Guilty, m'lud!" replied that worthy.
"And Crosthwaite--he wasn't on that hooker?" asked Devereux anxiously.
"No, thank heaven," replied Sefton fervently. "He's still in hospital. This is my young brother. I've got to blame him for this business, the young rascal. It was a narrow squeak for the pair of us."
"It was," assented Huxtable gravely. "We spotted theKondoryesterday and kept her under observation."
"Then you bagged that Hun battleship?" enquired Sefton.
"No, worse luck," replied the lieutenant-commander of E--. "She altered helm just as we were having a shot at her, and some other fellows did the trick. Mustn't complain, though. We are all members of the same co-operative society in the trade. TheKondor'screw? A few hours in the boats won't hurt them, and I'll wireless our destroyers. They are too villainous a crew to slip out of our hands. Come below, old man, and we'll rig the pair of you out in dry kit. With luck, you ought to be in Pompey again within twenty-four hours."
————
————
Pacing the diminutive quarter-deck of H.M.T.B.D.Boanerges, as she swung to the first of the flood-tide, were two naval officers. It was too dark to distinguish their features, even in the red glow of their cigarettes.
Three months had elapsed since the desperate struggle on Blackstone Edge. TheBoanerges, a brand-new destroyer recently delivered from the Clyde, had just commissioned at Portsmouth for service with the Grand Fleet.
"My dear Boxspanner," remarked the taller of the twain, "I've come to the conclusion that life ashore isn't worth the candle. In common parlance, I'm fed up. The last straw is the abominable petrol tax. Just fancy, the blighters allow me two gallons a month----"
"You weren't on leave for more than three weeks, Pills," interrupted the engineer-lieutenant.
"Just so; that's the rub. I could have done with a three months' allowance, and used the lot in a week. By the way, talking of that new carburetter----"
"Boat ahoy!" came a hoarse hail from the fo'c'sle as the lynx-eyed look-out detected a dark object approaching under oars towards the destroyer.
"Aye, aye!" was the orthodox reply, given in clear, decisive tones.
The boat was brought smartly alongside the accommodation-ladder, and a young officer came briskly over the side. Jack Sefton, "sub" no longer but a full-fledged "luff", as the two gold rings, surmounted by a curl, on each of his sleeves denoted.
"Well?" enquired Boxspanner eagerly. "Have you seen Crosthwaite?"
"Saw him this afternoon," was the reply. "Passed the medical board with flying colours. He's reported fit for duty on the 8th."
"Good business!" ejaculated Stirling fervently.
"And," continued Sefton, "I'm in the know. Our owner's due for promotion. He'll be given a light cruiser; and unless I'm very much mistaken we'll have Crosthwaite as our skipper before long."
"Quartermaster!" said Sefton, as he turned to descend the companion-ladder.
"Sir," replied that worthy, already known to our readers as Thomas Brown, A.B., but now a promising petty officer.
"See that I am turned out at 5.45."
"Aye, aye, sir."
The three officers disappeared below. The quartermaster smiled grimly as the faint words of the chorus of "They don't run corridor cars on our branch line" caught his ear, followed by an emphatic "Chuck it, old bird."
"Proper jonnick they are, every mother's son of 'em," muttered P.O. Brown, as he walked for'ard. "Chaps as us fellows would go through 'ell with, if we ain't done so already," his thought reverting to that memorable action in the North Sea when the Huns fled before Jellicoe's armed might.
And thus we say "Adieu," or perhaps "Au revoir," to three gallant gentlemen who had so worthily played their parts in upholding the honour of the White Ensign with Beatty off Jutland.
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKWITH BEATTY OFF JUTLAND***