"What do you make of her?" enquired Sefton's chum as the two young officers stood under the lee of a partly demolished gun-turret.

"Precious little," replied Sefton. "Can't say that I am able to recognize her. But in these times, with a new vessel being added to the navy every day, one can hardly be expected to tell every ship by the cut of her jib."

"She might be a Hun," said the _Warrior's_ sub. "One that has got out of her bearings and is just sniffing round to see what damage she can do.

Hallo! There's 'Action Stations'."

The _Warrior_ was taking no unnecessary risks. She was still in a position to bite, although at a terrible disadvantage if opposed to an active and mobile foe. Gamely her war-worn men doubled off to the light quick-firers, three rousing cheers announcing the fact that, although badly battered, the gallant British seamen knew not the meaning of the word surrender.

Nearer and nearer came the mysterious vessel. She was by no means moving at the rate of a light-cruiser, her speed being about 15 knots. She flew three ensigns on various parts of her rigging, but, being end on and against the wind, the colours could not be distinguished.

Presently she ported helm slightly. Another roar of cheering burst from the throats of the _Warrior's_ men, for now the colours were discernible. They were not the Black Cross of Germany--a counterfeit presentment of the White Ensign--but the genuine article--the British naval ensign.

Simultaneously a hoist of bunting ascended to the signal yard-arm. A hundred men could read the letters, but the jumble conveyed nothing to them. Not until the code-book was consulted could the vessel's ident.i.ty be made known.

"_Engadine_, sir," replied the chief yeoman of signals. "Sea-plane carrier, that's what she is," he confided in an undertone to another petty officer standing by his side.

A lengthy exchange of semaph.o.r.e by means of hand-flags ensued, for other methods of communication on the part of the _Warrior_ were impossible, owing to the clean sweep of everything on deck.

And now, in the rapidly rising sea, preparations were made for taking the crippled _Warrior_ in tow. Already the cruiser's stern was well down, and, badly waterlogged, she would prove a handful for a powerfully-engined craft to tow, let alone the lightly-built _Engadine_.

But Lieutenant-Commander C. A. Robinson of the sea-plane ship _Engadine_ knew his business, and handled his vessel with superb skill. Thrice he manoeuvred sufficiently close to establish communication between his ship and the drifting _Warrior_, Twice the flexible wire hawser parted like pack-thread. At the third attempt the hawsers held, and the _Warrior_ slowly gathered way, wallowing astern of the _Engadine_ at a rate of 4 knots--but every minute was taking the unvanquished cruiser nearer Britain's sh.o.r.es.

By this time all on board knew that their sacrifice had not been in vain. Jellicoe was known to have effected a junction with Beatty's hard-pressed squadrons, the German High Seas Fleet was in flight, and betwixt them and their North Sea bases was the invincible Grand Fleet.

"The Day" had proved to be a day of reckoning for the boastful Huns in their efforts to wrest the trident from Britannia's grasp.

CHAPTER XI--The Wrecked Sea-plane

With her stock of torpedoes replenished and certain defects made good, H.M.T.B.D. _Calder_ sheered off from her parent ship, and, increasing speed to 21 knots, shaped a course to rejoin the rest of the flotilla.

Lieutenant-Commander Richard Crosthwaite was in high spirits. He thought that he had succeeded in bluffing the commodore to give his permission to rejoin the rest of the fleet instead of being ordered back to the Firth of Forth. As a matter of fact, his senior officer, realizing that a "stout heart goes a long way", had purposely refrained from asking a lot of awkward questions concerning the _Calder's_ injuries. In the forthcoming and projected night attack every destroyer available would be needed to put the fear of the British navy into the minds of the Huns and 21-inch torpedoes into the vitals of their battleships.

The spirit of the _Calder's_ skipper was shared by every member of the crew. Even the wounded showed reluctance to be transferred to the parent ship; those whose injuries did not prevent them from getting about st.u.r.dily a.s.serting that they might be of use. Those obliged to take to their hammocks were emphatic in impressing upon their more fortunate comrades the request "to get their own back".

The sun was low in the north-western sky when the _Calder's_ look-out men sighted two vessels slowly making their way in the direction of home. One, evidently badly damaged, was in tow of the other.

It was part of the destroyer's duty to investigate, since it might be possible that the vessels were hostile craft endeavouring by making a wide detour to reach their base.

A wireless message, in code, was sent from the _Calder_, requesting the two vessels to disclose their ident.i.ty. The reply left Crosthwaite no longer in doubt. The towing ship was the _Engadine_, while the crippled craft wallowing in her wake was the heroic _Warrior_.

It was Crosthwaite's opportunity to regain the services of his sub-lieutenant if the latter had been lucky enough to escape from the terrible gruelling to which the British cruiser had been subjected.

Closing to within a cable's length of the _Warrior_ he signalled:

"Request permission to take off my sub-lieutenant."

To which the _Warrior_ replied:

"Permission granted, provided no needless risk to His Majesty's ships."

Crosthwaite smiled grimly. The idea of further damage being done to the _Warrior_ seemed out of the question, while he considered he was quite capable of bringing the _Calder_ alongside without denting a single plate.

Ordering "easy ahead", Crosthwaite brought the _Calder_ close alongside the _Warrior's_ port quarter. Although the sea was now running high, and the waves were breaking over the latter's almost submerged quarter-deck, it was comparatively calm under her lee.

"There's your glorified Thames penny steamer alongside, old man,"

remarked Sefton's chum as the _Calder_ was made fast fore and aft, her deck being little more than a couple of feet below that of the cruiser--so low had the latter settled aft. "No, don't trouble to return my coat. It's positively not respectable for the quarter-deck.

Well, so long! I'll run across you again before this business is over, I guess."

Scrambling over the debris, from which smoke was still issuing in faint bluish wisps, Sefton gained the armoured cruiser's side. Poising himself for an instant he leapt on the _Calder's_ deck, followed by Able Seaman Brown.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "POISING HIMSELF FOR AN INSTANT, SEFTON LEAPT ON THE 'CALDER'S' DECK"]

"Can I be of any a.s.sistance, sir?" enquired Crosthwaite from the bridge of the destroyer.

The commanding officer of the _Warrior_ returned the salute and shook his head. He was loath to detain even one destroyer from the fighting that yet remained to be done.

Amid the cheers of both crews the _Calder_ sheered off, and, porting helm, resumed her course, while the _Warrior_, in tow of the _Engadine_, was confronted with the approach of night and a steadily-increasing rough sea.

The badly-damaged _Warrior_ never reached port. After being towed for twelve hours, her position became so serious that the sea-plane carrier hove alongside and removed her crew.

Giving three cheers for the old ship, as the _Engadine_, abandoning her tow, increased the distance between her and the _Warrior_, the gallant crew watched the battered hulk rolling sullenly in the angry sea until she was lost sight of in the distance.

Having formally reported himself, Sefton went below to make up arrears of sleep. Boxspanner and the doctor were in the ward-room, both engaged in animated conversation, not upon the subject of the action, but on the merits and demerits of paraffin as a subst.i.tute for petrol for a motor-bicycle.

With disjointed fragments of conversation ringing in his ears, and "carburation", "sooty deposit in the sparking plug", and "engine-knock"

figuring largely, Sefton fell into a fitful slumber, dreaming vividly of the stirring incidents of the past few hours, until he was aroused by the reversal of the destroyer's engines, the lightly-built hull quivering under the strain.

Instinctively he glanced at the clock. He had been asleep only ten minutes--it seemed more like ten hours by the length of his excited mental visions.

Leaping from his bunk, Sefton scrambled into his clothes and hurried on deck. It was still twilight. The wind was moaning through the aerials; splashes of spray slapped the destroyer's black sides as she lost way and fell off broadside on to the waves.

Fifty yards to leeward was a large British sea-plane. She was listing at a dangerous angle, her starboard-float being waterlogged, and showing only above the surface as the fabric heeled in the trough of the sea.

Her planes were ripped in twenty places, while the fuselage showed signs of having been hit several times. The tip of one blade of the propeller had been cut off as cleanly as if by a knife. All around her the water was iridescent with oil that had leaked from her lubricating-tanks.

Waist-deep in water, and sitting athwart the undamaged float, was the pilot--a young sub-lieutenant, whose face was blanched with the cold.

He had voluntarily adopted his position in order to impart increased stability to the damaged sea-plane.

Lying on the floor of the fuselage, with his head just visible above the coamings, was the observer. He had discarded his flying-helmet, while round his head was bound a blood-stained scarf. Evidently his wound was of a serious nature, for he evinced no interest in the approach of the _Calder_.

As the destroyer drifted down upon the crippled sea-plane a dozen ready hands gripped the top of one of the wings, and a couple of seamen swarmed along the frail fabric to the cha.s.sis.

The rescue of the pilot was a comparatively easy matter, but it took all the skill of the bluejackets to extricate the wounded observer. It was not until others of the crew came to the aid of their comrades, the men in their zeal almost completing the submergence of the still floating wreckage, that the unconscious officer was brought on board.

There was no time to waste in salvage operations. At an order from the lieutenant-commander a seaman, armed with an axe, made his way to the undamaged float. A few vigorous blows completed the work of destruction. Held by the tip of one of the wings until the man regained the destroyer, the sea-plane was allowed to sink.

"Rough luck to chuck away an engine like that," remarked a voice regretfully.