Part 10

Once they had sighted a Zeppelin, miles away on the horizon until it looked like an overgrown, animated sausage; while many, many times they had been sent to sea to assist in “strafing” hostile submarines. But they had never “strafed” any, had never fired a gun or a torpedo in real earnest; whereat the hearts of all the officers and men had grown sick, and they envied those of their comrades who had been lucky enough to be in action in the Dardanelles or North Sea.

The weather had grown steadily worse as the night wore on. They had been steaming twenty knots to start with, but on account of the sea, had had to ease down first to fifteen, and then to twelve, lest the masses of heavy water coming over the bows should strain the ship and carry things away.

The lieutenant in command, Travers, was vainly endeavouring to get a little sleep on the cushioned locker in the charthouse underneath the bridge. He had been on deck till 12.30 a.m., and his last orders to Munro were to the effect that he was to be called at four o’clock or if any lights were sighted.

The time wore on, and towards two o’clock, as the sub was beginning to feel a little better and was wondering whether he were bold enough to manage some cocoa from his vacuum flask, he heard the signalman on watch utter a sudden exclamation.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I thought I saw a flash o’ some kind on the ’orizon a little on the port bow, sir!” the man replied excitedly, peering in the direction named.

“What sort of flash?”

“It looked like a gun, sir.”

They both gazed anxiously out over the water, dodging the sheets of spray as they came flying over the bows, but not a thing was visible.

“If it had been a gun,” the sub pointed out at last, “surely we should have heard it? The place where you thought you saw the flash is almost dead to wind’ard.”

“I don’t rightly know, sir,” the signalman answered. “Maybe we’d not hear it if it was a small gun.”

Hardly had he spoken when a sharp spurt of ruby flame broke out from the darkness right ahead. It was unmistakably the flash of a gun, apparently about five miles away, and the sub strained his ears for the report. He heard nothing except the wash of the breaking seas.

But an instant later the fiery trail of a rocket cleft the air in exactly the same spot. It rose in a curve, and finally burst in a shower of stars which seemed to illuminate the sea for miles round.

The glare died away, but not before he had caught a fleeting glimpse of the dark shape of a vessel. She carried no lights of any kind, so far as he could see, and what sort of craft she was he could not determine. But she was a ship of some kind, he could swear to that.

“Signalman, go and tell the captain!” he ordered excitedly. “Messenger, warn the guns’ crews to stand by!”

The two men departed on their respective errands.

Travers was on the bridge in less than five seconds, and when the sub had told him what he had seen he went to the engine-room telegraph and increased the revolutions of the engines to fifteen knots.

“I’ll shove her on at fifteen,” he remarked. “Can’t go more than that in this sea. By the way, how far off did you say she was?”

“About five miles, sir,” the sub and signalman said together.

“Right,” nodded the skipper. “In twenty minutes we should be up to her, whoever she is. Sub, have the men warned, and get the guns and torpedo tubes manned. I don’t expect for an instant she’s anything but an innocent tramp, but we’d better be ready. These Huns are up to all sorts of dodges, foul and otherwise.”

[Illustration: “The glare died away, but not before we had caught a fleeting glimpse of the dark shape of a vessel.”

_See page 150_ ]

“But what about the gun flashes, sir?” the sub-lieutenant queried.

“M’yes,” said Travers slowly. “The flashes certainly complicate matters. I don’t expect people go blazing off guns in the middle of the night for the good of their health. Someone must be pretty scared, I should think. However, have everything ready.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

The men, sleeping in their clothes, as was their habit at sea, came tumbling up, but less than thirty seconds later there was another development when the wireless operator clambered on to the bridge.

“I wants th’ captain!” he exclaimed, ducking his head as a whiff of spray came rattling against the weather screens, like a volley of small shot.

“Here I am,” said Travers. “What’s the matter?”

“About a minute ago, sir, I heard a ship making S.O.S. by wireless! She made it twice, and then suddenly stopped! There’s somethin’ else makin’ signals, too, but I can’t make head nor tail o’ what she’s sayin’! There’s somethin’ happenin’, sir?” He seemed very excited.

“Phew!” whistled the skipper joyfully. “Don’t say we’re going to have a run for our money at last! How far off d’you think the signals came from, Sparks?”

“They were comin’ in strong, sir. I should say a matter o’ ten mile or less.”

“Right. Go down and keep your ears glued to your receivers, and if you hear any more, let me know at once. By George, sub!” he added, rubbing his hands and turning to Munro. “There appears to be dirty work going on somewhere, eh?”

“There does, sir,” the sub agreed.

The time seemed to pass very slowly as the _Tavy_ forged ahead. Five minutes passed ... ten minutes ... a quarter of an hour.

“We ought to be barely a mile off her by now if she’s stationary!” murmured Travers disappointedly. “But I’m blowed if I can see a sign of anything!”

Twenty minutes ... twenty-five minutes. Still nothing in sight.

The skipper growled something under his breath.

“Where on earth’s she got to?” he exclaimed. “Shove her on at seventeen, sub. I think she’ll stand it.” He was getting impatient.

Munro turned the handle of the telegraph until the dial showed the requisite number of revolutions.

The destroyer moved on, making heavier weather of it as she gathered speed, but it was not until thirty-five minutes had elapsed that the lieutenant made a muffled remark, wiped his binoculars carefully, and applied them to his eyes.

“I’ve spotted her!” he cried. “She seems to be steering to the south-west’ard, and we’re overhauling her pretty fast! Starboard a little, cox’n! Steady so!”

Before very long the dark hull of the stranger was visible with the naked eye. She seemed a fairly large ship, and was apparently about a couple of miles off and steaming twelve knots. The _Tavy_ was gaining fast.

“Make a signal telling her to stop!” Travers ordered. “Then ask her name and where she’s bound.”

The signalman pressed the key of his flashing lamp in the longs and shorts of the Morse code. He did it for quite ten minutes without stopping, but no reply was forthcoming. At the end of this time the two ships were barely a mile apart, and unless the steamer, now plainly visible as a craft with one straight funnel and two masts, was keeping an extremely bad look out, she must have seen the destroyer’s signals. But no, nothing happened.

“These chaps deserve to be sunk!” Travers grunted disgustedly. “I’ll put a shot across her bows; that’ll wake her up!”

He leant over the bridge rail and gave the necessary orders to the men at the gun below.

As the weapon was discharged there came a brilliant flash and a loud report, and presently the plugged shell pitched into the water several hundred yards ahead of the steamer.

It was a summons she could not afford to neglect, and putting her helm over, she turned round in her tracks and steered straight for the destroyer.

“Tell her to stop!” Travers ordered again, noticing that she was still moving through the water and approaching fast.

Hardly were the words out of his mouth when the fun began.

The steamer sheered abruptly to port, dense clouds of black smoke pouring from her funnel as she increased speed, and then, when she was barely half a mile off, the brilliant red flash of a gun broke out from her side.

Those on board the destroyer heard the report, and a shell screamed through the air like an infuriated demon and raised its spray fountain some distance beyond them. Before it had pitched, other gun flashes were sparkling up and down the stranger’s side. She was a merchant ship from her build and appearance, but was evidently powerfully armed. She was firing furiously.

The attack was quite unexpected, but the _Tavy_ was not unprepared.

“Open fire on her!” Travers yelled hoarsely, dashing to the telegraphs and jamming them over to “Full speed.” “Sub, I’m going to run past her! Nip down on deck and stand by to fire the foremost tube when your sights come on!”

The _Tavy’s_ guns roared out in reply, and albeit the violent motion of the ship and the water breaking on board made the shooting rather wild, the shells seemed to be pitching somewhere near the target.

The steamer still fired rapidly, until the air was full of an awful, horrible whining; but at first her shooting was not too good. Perhaps the destroyer offered a very small target, or perhaps the stranger’s guns’ crews were not very expert; at any rate, most of the projectiles seemed to be falling harmlessly into the sea about two hundred yards beyond and astern of the _Tavy_.

The whole affair was over in less time than it takes to read a description of it. The ships were approaching each other fast on parallel and opposite courses, and would pass at a distance of about eight hundred yards.

The hostile shells began to fall closer. Travers heard a violent explosion from aft, and glancing round, saw the lurid flame of a detonation close by the after funnel. Someone screamed, and then the air seemed full of flying, whistling splinters. The ship had evidently been damaged, for her speed dropped fast. But she still moved through the water.

Another shell, falling in the water about twenty yards short, raised a gigantic spray column which fell on deck and drenched every soul on the bridge and forecastle. It then ricochetted over the bridge, passing so close that the air disturbance whisked the cap off Travers’ head and carried it neatly overboard.

But in another instant the sights of the foremost torpedo tube came on, and the sub pulled a lever.

The torpedo leapt out of its tube like a great silver fish and landed in the water with a splash. The stranger evidently saw it fired, for she circled round to avoid it with her guns still firing heavily.

Another hostile shell, bursting in the water, sent a number of fragments whizzing across the destroyer’s forecastle. Two men of the foremost gun’s crew were hit, and dropped to the deck, but the others, pushing them aside, went on loading and firing, loading and firing, as fast as they could.

The stranger, at very close range, offered an enormous target, and the destroyer’s weapons, small though they were, could hardly miss her. Shell after shell drove home, for they could see the brilliant flashes of the explosions as they struck and burst. The _Tavy’s_ guns were smaller than those of her opponent, but the latter was enduring terrible punishment, and her fire was weakening rapidly.

Then, quite suddenly, a great column of water mingled with smoke and flame, leapt into the air at the steamer’s side. There came the awful, shattering roar of a heavy explosion. The torpedo had gone home.

When the turmoil died away, she had ceased firing. The torpedo must have struck her forward, for her bows were deep in the water and her stem was high in the air, with the propellers still revolving slowly. She seemed to be sinking fast.

Travers was still staring at her speechless, when the sub came on to the bridge chuckling with glee.

“I got her!” he shouted excitedly, pointing at the sinking ship. “By gum--I got her!”

The skipper said nothing. He had an awful feeling at the back of his mind that perhaps he might have sunk a British ship.

She had fired on him first, it is true, but would that absolve him from sinking her if she did turn out to be British?

* * * * *

The _Tavy_ had five men killed outright by the shell explosion aft, and another two wounded at the foremost gun. She was leaking and badly damaged, too, for when the engineer officer came on to the bridge, a little later, he reported that one boiler was hopelessly out of action, that the starboard engine was damaged and could not be used, and that one shell, penetrating the side below the waterline in the stern without bursting, had drilled a hole through which several compartments had been flooded. However, he added cheerfully, the hole had been plugged temporarily, and the ship was in no danger, while she could steam at ten knots with her other engine.

The stranger’s bows, meanwhile, were under water, and she was sinking fast by the head. Men aboard her could be seen lowering boats, and circling round, the _Tavy_ approached to render what assistance she could.

But before she reached the spot, the steamer flung her stern high into the air. She hung poised for a few seconds, and then, amidst a cloud of steam and smoke, and with the muffled roar of collapsing bulkheads, slowly disappeared from view as if sucked down by a gigantic magnet.

The destroyer approached the scene and stopped her engines. The sea was covered with wreckage and a film of oil which prevented the waves from breaking, and switching on her searchlight, the _Tavy_ swept the water for any signs of survivors. One or two were seen, the whaler was lowered, and after a prolonged search and with no little risk, one officer and twenty men, some of them badly wounded, were rescued. All the remainder had gone to their fate.

Travers waited anxiously. Suppose she were a British ship after all? Suppose he had been responsible for the drowning of some of his own countrymen?

But, no! The sub, who had been superintending the embarkation of the survivors, came on to the bridge soon afterwards. He was half beside himself with excitement.

“She was the German auxiliary cruiser _Pelikan_, sir!” he almost shouted.

“The _Pelikan_!” exclaimed Travers, a wave of thankfulness surging through his heart. “Are you quite certain, man?”

“Absolutely, sir. I got it from one of our--er--prisoners! You remember those flashes we saw?”

“Yes.”

“Well, she was sinking a British steamer!”

“A British steamer!” echoed the skipper. “Did they pick up any of her men?”

“No, sir,” the sub-lieutenant replied venomously. “They didn’t. They left ’em to sink or swim! Said the weather was too bad to lower boats!”

“Too bad for their boats when we could lower our whaler!” cried Travers, clenching his fists in rage. “The wretched cowards! I’m glad we had our revenge and sent a few of ’em under! I’d like to shove the survivors overboard after ’em, but suppose I can’t, worse luck! Is someone looking after ’em?”

“Yes,” said Munro with a grin. “At present they’re sitting round the galley fire drinking hot Bovril!”

“We’re a jolly sight too soft-hearted!” Travers retorted bitterly.

* * * * *

Some fifteen hours later the _Tavy_, minus her after funnel and looking very battered and war-worn, limped into a certain port. The news of her exploit had already been transmitted by wireless, and when she steamed slowly up the harbour on her way to the dockyard, the crews of all the other ships present thronged on deck and cheered themselves hoarse.

The next day a brief announcement from the Admiralty appeared in the morning papers:--

On the morning of Thursday last the German armed steamer _Pelikan_, which has lately been responsible for the sinking of several British steamers on the Atlantic trade routes, was encountered in the English Channel by H.M. destroyer _Tavy_ (Lieutenant Robert H. Travers, R.N.). After a brief but spirited engagement, the enemy was sunk by a torpedo. One officer and twenty men, three of whom have since succumbed to their injuries, were rescued. Our losses were very slight.

PRINTED BY WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD. PLYMOUTH, ENGLAND

FOOTNOTES:

[A] Nakhuda, i.e. the native captain of a dhow.

[B] Coir rope has the advantage of floating, though it has only one-third of the strength of hemp rope of the same diameter.