Part 16 (1/2)
Altering her course, the trawler bore down upon the _Calder_ and slowed down within hailing distance to leeward.
”Come you all aboard,” shouted the Danish skipper, a tall, broad-shouldered descendant of a Viking forbear. ”We save you. Plenty room for all.”
”We don't want to abandon s.h.i.+p yet,” replied Sefton. ”We may weather it yet.”
”An' I think that you answer so,” rejoined the skipper. ”You British seamans brave mans. Englishmans goot; Danes goot; Germans no goot. Me stand by an' 'elp.”
”Seen anything of the battle?” enquired the sub.
The Danish skipper nodded his head emphatically.
”Germans run for port as if Satan after them,” he declared; then, realizing that he had paid the Huns a compliment, he hastened to add: ”No, no; Germans too fond of wickedness to run from Satan--it is from the English that they run. s.h.i.+ps sunk everywhere, dead men float by thousands: we no fish for months in these waters.”
This was the first intimation that the _Calder's_ crew received of Jellicoe's failure to combine annihilation with victory. Victory it undoubtedly was; but, although the Grand Fleet had succeeded in getting between the enemy and his North Sea bases, the Huns, favoured by darkness and fog, had contrived to elude the toils, and were skeltering for safety with a haste bordering upon panic. Jellicoe and Beatty had done everything that courage and science could devise. They had inflicted far greater losses on the Huns than the latter did upon us.
And, what is more, the British fleet ”held the lists”, while the boastful Germans, crowding into Wilhelmshaven and other ports, spent their time in spreading lying reports of their colossal victory over the hated English.
”You no look surprise at the news,” continued the master of the Danish trawler. ”Me think you cheer like mad.”
”Of course, we're glad,” replied Sefton, ”but it is not quite what we expected, you know. We're sorry that the enemy got away.”
”Me, too,” agreed the Dane. ”Germany treat little Denmark badly. She bully; we cannot do anything. Shall we run alongside an' take you and your crew off?”
Sefton gave a glance to windward. It seemed as if the seas were moderating. His reluctance to abandon s.h.i.+p increased. The _Calder_ had played her part, and it seemed base ingrat.i.tude to leave her to founder.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”THE 'CALDER' HAD PLAYED HER PART, AND IT SEEMED BASE INGRAt.i.tUDE TO LEAVE HER TO FOUNDER”]
”I don't think she's settling down any further, sir,” replied one of the carpenter's crew in answer to the sub's question. ”Bulkheads are holding well.”
”Then we'll carry on,” declared the sub, and, warmly thanking the Dane for his humanity, he courteously declined the offer of a.s.sistance.
”Goot luck, then!” replied the skipper of the trawler as he thrust the wheel hard over and ordered easy ahead. Yet not for another hour did he part company. Keeping at a discreet distance from the labouring destroyer, he remained until, the sea having moderated, and the _Calder_ showing no further signs of distress, he came to the conclusion that the battered British craft stood a fair chance of making port.
For the next couple of hours the _Calder_ was continually pa.s.sing wreckage, scorched and shattered woodwork testifying to the devastating effect of modern explosives. The destroyer was pa.s.sing over the scene of one of the many isolated engagements that composed the memorable battle and certain British victory of Jutland.
”A boat or a raft of sorts, sir,” reported a seaman, pointing to a floating object a couple of miles away, and slightly on the _Calder's_ starboard bow.
Sefton brought his binoculars to bear upon the objects indicated by the look-out. At regular intervals, as it rose on the crests of the waves, a large raft known, after its inventor, as the ”Carley” was visible. An exaggerated lifebuoy, with a ”sparred” platform so arranged that in the event of the appliance being completely overset the ”deck” would still be available, the ”Carley” has undoubtedly proved its value in the present war. Practically indestructible, not easily set on fire by sh.e.l.ls, and with an almost inexhaustible reserve of buoyancy, the raft is capable of supporting twenty men with ease.
Slowly the _Calder_ approached the life-buoy. She was doing a bare 3 knots; while, able to use only one propeller, she was hard on her helm.
”Wot are they--strafed 'Uns or some of our blokes?” enquired an ordinary seaman of his ”raggie”; for, although the men on the raft were now clearly visible, their almost total absence of clothing made it impossible to determine their nationality.
”Dunno, mate,” replied his chum. ”'Uns, perhaps; they don't seem in no 'urry to see us.”
”'Uns or no 'Uns,” rejoined the first speaker, ”skipper's goin' to pull 'em out of the ditch, if it's only to show 'em that we ain't like them U boat pirates.”
”Strikes me they're pretty well done in,” chimed in another. ”There's not one of 'em as has the strength of a steerage rat.”
Huddled on the raft were fifteen almost naked human beings. Some were roughly bandaged. All were blackened by smoke and scorched by exposure to the sun and salt air. Another half-dozen were in the water, supporting themselves by one hand grasping the life-lines of the raft.