Part 14 (1/2)

The two vessels were still fencing and manoeuvring, getting a shot in when and wherever they could. But at last both the commanders tired of these fruitless tactics, and then the engagement began in real earnest.

The yacht was armed with lighter guns than those of her opponent, but she had more of them, and, in addition, possessed the advantage of speed, being capable of answering her helm twice as quickly as the privateer. This enabled her to swing round at all angles, catch the _Hawk_ broadside-on and sweep her decks fore and aft. Notwithstanding this, she by no means had it all her own way, for the privateer kept up a steady, well-trained fire that made things aboard her adversary more than lively.

As only those men who served the guns were allowed on deck, the casualties were relatively small on the _Hawk_. Whenever a man fell, his place was taken by another from the reserve men in the foc'sle and thus unnecessary losses were avoided. A hospital of sorts had been rigged up in the for'ad hold and here the wounded men were carried and placed on mattresses until such time as they could be attended to.

Calamity had thrown off his jacket, and, with arms bared to the elbows, was working the quick-firer on the bridge, three of the gun's crew having been killed or wounded.

”Hit her amids.h.i.+ps, in the engine-room!” he shouted to Mr. d.y.k.es, who had charge of the gun on the p.o.o.p.

A minute or two later there was a loud explosion on the yacht, owing to one of her guns being hit while loaded, by a sh.e.l.l from the _Hawk_. A wild cheer went up from the privateers' men, and Calamity, thinking he might board his adversary in the confusion, bellowed an order to the quartermaster.

”Hard a starboard! Quick, d.a.m.n your eyes!”

”Hard a----” the quartermaster started to echo, but before he could finish a fragment of sh.e.l.l struck him, and Calamity, swinging round to see what had happened, was bespattered with blood and brains. He sprang to the wheel, and, pus.h.i.+ng aside the dead body with his foot, altered the helm. But it was too late, the other had divined his purpose and was drawing off. Instantly the _Hawk_ started in pursuit, but, as she came round in the yacht's wake, a ricocheting sh.e.l.l dropped through the engine-room skylight and there was an explosion below which shook the vessel from stem to stern. Volumes of hissing steam ascended through the gratings and ventilators, while, above the roar, came the agonised shrieks of some wretched firemen who were being scalded to death in the stokehold.

A man, his face a wet, shapeless, raw ma.s.s of flesh, stumbled out of the fiddley, staggered a few paces, and fell sprawling on the deck. Another followed whose hair, still attached to the skin, was falling off in lumps, and he, too, collapsed on the deck. At the same moment the steady throb of the engines ceased and the _Hawk_ began to lose way. Meanwhile the German had drawn off, and, for the time being, firing ceased on both sides. The enemy, it would seem, was in little better condition than the privateer, for she was steaming at a rate of certainly not more than five knots. Calamity, watching her from the bridge, cursed aloud as he saw his hoped-for prize slowly but surely getting away while he was unable to prevent her or to go in pursuit.

”Send for McPhulach!” he cried; but, before anyone could obey, the chief-engineer mounted to the bridge.

”I'm sair dootin' we'll hae to bide where we are,” he remarked placidly.

”Do you mean to say the engines are wrecked?” demanded Calamity.

”I wouldna go sae far as tae say that,” answered the engineer. ”Ye micht speak o' them as a.s.sorted sc.r.a.p-iron.”

The Captain laid a firm hand on McPhulach's arm.

”You've got to repair those engines,” he said quietly.

”Eh!”

”You heard me.”

”Losh presarve us, mon, the A'michty Himsel' couldna do it!”

”The Almighty's not chief engineer of the _Hawk_, so you needn't worry about that. Get those engines going or I'll string you up at the end of a derrick.”

”Guid G.o.d, are ye mad, mon!” gasped the engineer.

”Mad or sane, I'll do what I say.”

”I tell ye the engine-room's like a steam-laundry,” wailed McPhulach.

”There isna a pipe that isna squairting steam out of some crack or itha, and it'll take all the cotton-waste in the s.h.i.+p to bind up the leaks.

It's a plumber's job, no' an engineer's.”

”Well, if you can't do your job, I'll undertake to do mine,” said the Captain grimly.

McPhulach emitted a groan, then took from his pocket a short and very rank briar pipe. A look of phlegmatic resignation had come over his face.