Part 13 (2/2)

”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-s.h.i.+ps 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 s.h.i.+ps 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 s.h.i.+ps 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 battles.h.i.+p 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 battles.h.i.+p make any attempt to engage; possibly the _Fearless_ was not visible from the war-s.h.i.+p's deck.

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