Sefton shook his head.

"Don't know," he replied. "Pills has him in hand. In any case he's got it pretty badly. Well, how goes it?"

"Can't get more'n five knots out of the engines," replied the engineer-lieutenant. "Port engine-room reduced to sc.r.a.p. There was three feet of water in the stokeholds, but it's subsiding, thank goodness! Deuce of a mess when the lights went out. Stumbled over a man and banged my head. It feels like a blister on the tyre of a car--liable to burst at any moment, don't you know. The fellow strafed me for treading on him. Asked him what the deuce he was lying there for, since he had wind enough to kick up a row. What do you think he was up to?"

"Can't say," replied Sefton.

"Plugging a shot-hole with his bare back. Had his shoulder wedged against the gash. He'd been like that for twenty minutes--and he'd lost three fingers of the right hand."

"You'll have to make a special report," remarked the sub.

"A special report of every man of my department you mean!" exclaimed Boxspanner enthusiastically. "By Jove! If you could have seen them----"

The arrival of the doctor cut short the engineer-lieutenant's eulogies.

"Just up for a breather," gasped Stirling. "Thought I'd let you know how things are going in my line. A bit stiff our butcher's bill. The skipper's pretty rough. Took a wicked-looking chunk of high-explosive sh.e.l.l out of his forehead. I've had the deuce of a job to stop the flow of arterial blood from a gash in his leg. He'll pull through. He's as hard as nails."

"That's good," said Sefton and Boxspanner in one breath.

"Talking of nails," continued Stirling, "I've just had a rum case--Thompson, the leading signalman. Took fifty pieces of metal from his hide. The poor wretch couldn't sit down, although the wounds were light. Those strafed Huns had crammed one of their shrapnel-sh.e.l.ls with gramophone needles. Fact! I'm not joking! I suppose they haven't the heart for any more music, so they made us a present of the needles. How much longer to daybreak?"

"About a quarter to three, Greenwich time," replied Sefton. "I haven't a watch."

He did not think it necessary to explain that his wristlet watch had been ripped from its strap by a flying fragment of sh.e.l.l. He was becoming painfully aware of the circ.u.mstance, for every movement of his wrist gave him a sharp pain.

Boxspanner crossed over to the temporary binnacle--one removed from the wreckage of one of the boats--for the destroyer's standard compa.s.s had gone the way of the majority of the deck-fittings, while the gyro-compa.s.s, placed in the safest part of the vessel, had been dismounted by the bursting of a sh.e.l.l.

"It's only a quarter past eleven," he announced dolorously, as he consulted his watch by the feeble light of the binnacle.

"Rot!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the doctor. "It was midnight when we went into action."

The engineer-lieutenant made a second examination. The gla.s.s of the watch had been completely broken; not even a fragment remained. The hands had gone, while across the dial were two cracks in such positions that they had misled Boxspanner into the belief that they were the hands. Yet, on holding the timepiece to his ear and listening intently--for like the rest of the _Calder's_ complement he was temporarily deafened from the result of the violent gun-fire--he found that the watch was still going.

"It's getting light already," observed Stirling, pointing to a pale-reddish hue in the north-eastern sky. "Well, I must away. More patching and mending demand my modest attention."

Slowly the dawn broke, a crimson glow betwixt the dark, scudding ma.s.ses of clouds betokening a continuance of the hard blow, and plenty of it.

With the rising sea the task of the _Calder's_ crew increased tenfold.

Anxiously the horizon was swept in the hope of a friendly vessel being sighted, but the sky-line was unbroken. The tide of battle, if the action were still being maintained, had rolled away beyond sight and hearing of the little band of heroes who so worthily maintained the prestige of the White Ensign.

CHAPTER XIV--Out of the Fight

With the pumps ejecting copious streams of water the damaged _Calder_ held gamely on her way, daylight adding to the horrors of the aftermath of battle. The hull echoed to the clanging of the artificers' hammers and the dull thud of the caulkers' mallets as the undaunted and tireless men proceeded with the work of stopping leaks. On deck steps were being taken to clear away the debris, and to set up a pair of temporary funnels of sufficient height to carry the smoke clear of the side. The sole remaining gun was overhauled and again made fit for action in case of necessity. Although not anxious to fall in with a U boat or a stray Zeppelin, the _Calder's_ crew were determined to take every precaution to keep the tattered ensign still flying from the temporary staff set up aft.

For another hour the destroyer crawled on her long journey towards the cliff-bound sh.o.r.es of Britain. Then Sefton issued an order which was repeated aft and down below. The engines were stopped, the remnants of the crew mustered aft, and the battle-scarred pieces of bunting lowered to half-mast.

The _Calder's_ crew were about to pay their last homage to those of their comrades who had gallantly laid down their lives for king and country.

Fifteen hammock-enshrouded forms lay motionless at the after end of the deck. Bare-headed their messmates stood in silence as Sefton, with a peculiar catch in his usually firm voice, read the prayer appointed for the burial of those at sea. Then into the foam-flecked waves, the bodies of those conquerors even in death were consigned, to find an undisturbed resting-place fathoms deep on the bed of the North Sea.

It was no time for melancholy. At the word "Dismiss" the men trooped for'ard, for there was plenty of work to do, and, in the navy especially, hard but necessary work is rightly considered one of the best antidotes for grief.

s.n.a.t.c.hing at the opportunity to visit his chief, Sefton hurried below to the shattered ward-room, where Crosthwaite lay on a mattress that smelt abominably of cordite and the lingering odours of poison-gas. The lieutenant-commander had by this time recovered consciousness, and greeted Sefton with a bad attempt at a smile.

"We've kept our end up," he said feebly. "Think you'll get the old ship back to port?"

"I trust so," said the sub guardedly. "I'll do my level best."

"I know," a.s.sented Crosthwaite. "Still, you've a stiff job. I'll be on the bridge in another half an hour and give you a spell."

Sefton said nothing. He realized that many hours--nay, days--would pa.s.s before his chief would again a.s.sume command. Crosthwaite was quick to notice his subordinate's silence.

"Suppose I've had it pretty badly," he admitted reluctantly. "It was a rotten business getting knocked out at the critical time."

"Nothing much happened after that," explained Sefton. "We were out of it within twenty seconds from the time you were hit."

"Man alive!" protested Crosthwaite. "You're altogether wrong. For nearly ten minutes I was lying there quite conscious and watching you.

You're a plucky fellow, old man."

Before Sefton could reply he was called away. A Zeppelin had been sighted, flying in the direction of the badly mauled _Calder_.

Quickly the remaining gun was manned. Although not intended for aerial work, modification to the original mounting permitted it to be trained within ten degrees of the perpendicular, supplementary sights having been fitted to enable it to be laid while at extreme elevation.

The air-ship was still four miles off, and flying at an alt.i.tude of about 2000 feet. Apparently undamaged, it was proceeding at a rapid pace against the wind.

Deprived of the advantage of speed and manoeuvring powers, the destroyer would fall an easy prey to the Zeppelin's bombs unless the _Calder_ could make good use of her solitary 4-inch quick-firer. The weapon was loaded and trained abeam, the gun's crew being ordered to take cover, and thus give the destroyer the appearance of being incapable of defence.

Sefton made no attempt to alter helm. He had made up his mind to wait until the huge target came within easy range. He knew that the _Calder_ was under observation, and that the Germans were trying to ascertain the nature of the destroyer's injuries. Should they come to the conclusion that the slowly-moving British craft was powerless of doing damage they would not be likely to waste ballast in ascending to a safe alt.i.tude and a corresponding loss of hydrogen in descending after the attack.

Nearer and nearer came the huge air-ship, her bows steadily pointing in the direction of the destroyer. Range-finder in hand, Sefton curbed his impatience. Not until the Zeppelin bore at a distance of 2500 yards did he order the gun's crew to their stations.

With a vicious spurt of flame and a sharp, resounding detonation the 4-inch sent a sh.e.l.l hurtling through the air. Admirably timed, it burst apparently close to the silvery-grey envelope. Almost instantly a huge cloud of black and yellow smoke shot from the Zeppelin.

A rousing cheer burst from the throats of the British seamen. The cheer was taken up by the wounded heroes down below, who, having heard in some mysterious manner of the air-ship's approach, were waiting the issue of events with mingled confidence and regret that they themselves were unable to a.s.sist in "strafing the sausage".

The cheers literally froze on the lips of the men on deck, for when the smoke cleared away the Zeppelin was a mere speck, 10,000 feet in the air. Under cover of a discharge of smoke she had dropped a large quant.i.ty of ballast and had shot vertically upwards to a safe alt.i.tude.

The Hun in command had received orders not to attack unless he could do so without risk, the Zeppelin being specially detailed for observation work. With a range of visibility of fifty or sixty miles she was of far more service to the discomfited German High Seas Fleet in warning them of the position of their victors than in strafing a solitary destroyer.

With solid water sweeping her fore and aft, the _Calder_ still struggled on her course, steered by the hand-operated gear in conjunction with the inefficient boat's compa.s.s. Hitherto the leaks had been kept under, but now the water was making its way in through the shattered fore-deck.

Reluctantly Sefton came to the conclusion that he would have to give the order "abandon ship" before many minutes had pa.s.sed. Already the knowledge that the old _Calder_ was slowly foundering had become general, yet there was no panic.

Calmly some of the men began to collect all the buoyant materials they could lay their hands upon for the purpose of constructing rafts, since there were no boats left. Others stuck gamely to the task of manning the pumps, while the wounded were carried on deck in order to give them a chance of getting clear of the sinking ship.

At seven in the morning a vessel was sighted to the west'ard proceeding in a nor'-easterly direction. After a few minutes of anxious doubt as to her nationality, she proved to be a Danish trawler--unless the national colours painted on her sides and the distinguishing numbers on her sails were disguises.