"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.

"Pa.s.s 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 the _Calder_ back 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 pa.s.sed 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 the _Calder's_ consorts 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 outcla.s.sed 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 the _Calder's_ track. Only a quick movement of the helm avoided collision with the floating object, which, as the _Calder_ swept 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 the _Calder_ swept 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 the _coup de grace_.

"What ship is that?" roared Sefton through a megaphone, the intervening distance being less than twenty yards.

"His Majesty's destroyer _Yealm_," 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 the _Calder_ to a standstill within easy hailing distance of her disabled consort. Here was a case in which a.s.sistance could be rendered without detriment to the interests of the Service. The _Calder_, until she could replenish her store of torpedoes, was practically useless as a fighting unit.

With her engines undamaged she could tow the _Yealm_ into 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 the _Yealm's_ torpedo 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 enc.u.mbered 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 the _Calder_ had pa.s.sed, 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 the _Calder's_ funnels 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 sh.e.l.l 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 the _Yealm_. 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 the _Calder's_ crew 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 sh.e.l.l 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 the _Yealm_ to the _Calder's_ decks. 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, the _Calder_ again hurled herself into the fray.

CHAPTER XIII--Sefton in Command

By this time the firing had ceased, while, the search-lights of the German war-ships having been screened, intense darkness brooded over the scene. The sea was rising rapidly, as if Nature was about to a.s.sert her power over the opposing fleets.

Exposed to the full force of the wind and waves, Sefton stood upon the remaining portion of the bridge, with his lieutenant-commander reclining within easy distance. Crosthwaite had given his subordinate strict orders to inform him of the moment when the Huns were again sighted.

His wounds mattered little. Provided his head were cool and his brain alert the _Calder's_ skipper meant to miss no part of the next phase of the sc.r.a.p.

The destroyer was now steaming in almost the opposite direction to that by which she had penetrated the enemy line. She was five or six miles to leeward of the German ships and possibly three times that distance from the British main fleet.

Far away to the west'ard came the dull rumble of a furious cannonade.

"Our light cruisers are having a sc.r.a.p with the Hun destroyers,"

muttered Sefton. "By Jove, this is a night!"

The sub was correct in his surmise. Although the British heavy ships were not attacked during the night, thanks to the screen provided by the Second Light-cruiser Squadron and several of the destroyer flotillas, the enemy torpedo-craft were several times in touch with the "fringes of the fleet".

Darkness played many strange pranks with the combatants, mistakes that more than once told against the Huns occurring with remarkable persistency.

On one occasion a battleship of the "Kaiser" cla.s.s was observed by the _Fearless_. The Hun was entirely isolated, and was steaming at full speed. The British destroyer was unable to engage her gigantic antagonist--the two vessels pa.s.sing in opposite directions at an aggregate rate of 50 miles an hour. To launch a torpedo would almost certainly result in a miss, while it was extremely hazardous for the _Fearless_ to turn and follow, without colliding with other British destroyers following much farther astern. Nor did the German battleship make any attempt to engage; possibly the _Fearless_ was not visible from the war-ship's deck.