Almost as in a dream Sefton realized that he was still alive. His
hearing was practically done for, owing to the terrific detonation of
the guns. His eyes were red and smarting from the effects of numerous
particles of soot and dust that had drifted in through the sighting
apertures of the fire-control station. He could scarcely speak, his
throat was parched and gripped by a terrible thirst. His borrowed
uniform was rent in several places, while the right leg of his trousers
was warm and moist. Unknown to him, a splinter of metal had cut a clean
gash just above the knee. In the excitement of the action he had not
felt the wound. Now it was beginning to throb painfully.
"The stick will go by the board before long," remarked an officer, as
the crippled foremast gave a sickening jerk with the roll of the ship to
starboard. "The sooner we get out of this the better, I fancy."
It was easier said than done. Even if the attention of the men on
deck--and they were busily engaged with hoses in quelling the numerous
small outbreaks of fire amidships--could be attracted, it was wellnigh
impossible to form a means of communication with the elevated masthead
platform.
"Worth risking it?" queried Sefton's chum, indicating the solitary
shroud on either side of the mast.
The sub shook his head.
"A tall order," he replied. "I don't seem to have the strength of a
steerage rat for a swarm-down from this height. No thanks, I'm not
taking any."
"If we had only a coil of signal halyard," remarked the range-finding
officer tentatively, "we might---- But there isn't a couple of fathoms
of line left aloft."
He thrust his head and shoulders through a hole in the steel plating,
and surveyed the scene 100 feet below. Viewed from that dizzy height,
the prospect of descending by means of a wire stay was not inviting.
"Hallo!" he exclaimed. "There's a bluejacket swarming aloft."
"Bluejacket" was hardly a strictly correct description, for climbing
hand over hand was a man clad only in a pair of canvas trousers. From
his waist upwards he was stripped. His feet, too, were bare. His
bronzed face, neck, and hands stood out in vivid contrast to the
whiteness of the rest of the skin. His muscles, like whipcord, rippled
as he ascended with a steady, even movement towards the isolated
foretop. From his belt trailed a line the coils of which were being
carefully "paid out" by a seaman standing on the extremity of the
badly-damaged fore-bridge.
Half-way up the shroud the climber paused to regain his breath. As he
threw back his head to gauge the remaining distance, his face was
revealed to the group on the swaying platform.
"By George!" ejaculated Sefton's chum. "It's the man you went into the
ditch after."
It was Able Seaman Brown. Having lost touch with his officer during the
engagement, his first thoughts after the _Warrior_ had ceased fire were
for the sub who had risked his life on his behalf. Enquiries elicited
the information that Sefton had been last seen while ascending to the
fire-control platform.
"Blow me if they ain't properly cut off," muttered the man, as he eyed
the precarious perch. "Here goes."
Obtaining the consent of one of the officers to attempt his perilous
ascent, A.B. Brown was now well on his way to establish communication
with the deck.
Perspiring from every pore, his muscles creaking under the strain, the
horny palms of his hands lacerated by the frayed strands of the wire,
the seaman at length gained one of the angle-girders upon which the
platform was bolted. Here he remained for fully five minutes before
essaying the last part of his journey.
Hanging from the metal structure was a block, from which the
running-gear had long since "rendered through". The man examined it
critically. To all outward appearance it seemed to be sound.
Jockeying himself along the sharp-edged angle-plate, Brown rove the end
of the rope through the block, and "paid out" until the line touched the
deck. Fortunately there was enough to spare. Three or four of the
_Warrior's_ crew were standing by to give assistance, and quickly bent a
"bos'n's chair" to one end of the rope.
"Come along, sir," exclaimed the A.B. encouragingly. "We'll have the lot
of you down in a jiffy."
He held out his hand to steady Sefton on his dizzy journey along the
metal "bracket", until a sudden thought flashed across his mind. What
if the rope carried away or the pulley-block was defective?
"Hold on, sir," he said. "I'll show you the way down."
He signalled for the bos'n's chair to be sent aloft, reflecting that if
the appliance were strong enough to bear his weight--he could give
Sefton nearly a couple of stones--the sub would run very little risk.
If, on the other hand, the gear carried away, he reflected grimly, his
"number would be up".
Sliding into the wooden seat, the A.B. motioned to his comrades to
lower. Handsomely the men paid out the comparatively frail rope until
Brown's bare feet came in contact with the bridge planking.
Five minutes later, the three seamen who had been attending to the
voice-tubes in the fire-control station were lowered into safety, in
spite of the fact that one was in a semi-conscious condition owing to a
shrapnel wound in his head.
Sefton was the next to descend, after a spirited argument with his
brother sub on the etiquette of seniority, until the lieutenant settled
his subordinate's dispute by declaring that Sefton was a guest, and that
the question of precedence did not hold good in present circumstances.
At length all the occupants of the fire-control platform were lowered in
safety. Barely had the lieutenant gained the deck when Sefton's
companion gave vent to an exclamation of annoyance.
"Dash it all!" he exclaimed. "I clean forgot all about that camera.
Here goes."
Slipping into the bos'n's chair he made the men haul away for all they
were worth, and, spinning round at the end of the rope, the _Warrior's_
sub again ascended to the dizzy, insecure perch.
Sefton watched him disappear into the recesses of the enclosed space,
presently to reappear with the precious camera dangling round his neck.
"Wouldn't have lost it for anything," remarked the young officer as he
regained the fore-bridge. "I've knocked about with it ever since I was
at Osborne, you know."
"Take anything during the action?" enquired Sefton.
"By Jove, no, I didn't! Clean forgot all about it."
"And I fancy, old bird, you won't again," interposed an assistant
paymaster, vainly attempting to "open out" the folding camera. "It's
done for."
Which was only too true. A fragment of shell had penetrated the case,
reducing the delicate mechanism to a complete wreck.
"Look out! Stand clear!" shouted a dozen voices.
With a rending crash the crippled mast buckled up and disappeared over
the side.
Sefton glanced at his chum. The imperturbable sub shrugged his
shoulders.
"Better to be born lucky than rich, old man," he remarked. "But, by
heavens, what a jamboree!"
He could find no other words to describe the scene of destruction. Now
that the ship was out of action, and the excitement of the titanic
struggle was over, the grim realization of what a naval engagement means
was beginning to reveal itself to the survivors of the gallant crew.
All the fires had been extinguished, with the exception of the big
outbreak aft. Gangs of men toiled desperately at the hand-pumps with a
double purpose. The _Warrior_ was making water freely. Already her
stokeholds and engine-rooms were flooded. Deprived of the aid of her
powerful steam bilge-pumps it seemed doubtful if the hand appliances
would be able to cope with the steady inrush. Moreover, a considerable
volume of water had to be directed upon the fire.
Officers with blackened faces and scorched uniforms encouraged the men
by word and deed. At whatever cost the _Warrior_ had to be saved from
foundering if human efforts were capable of such a herculean task.
Undaunted, the crew toiled manfully, fighting fire and water at one and
the same time.
Already the dead had been identified and given a hasty, yet impressive,
burial, while--an ominous sign--the wounded had been brought up from
below and laid in rows upon the upper deck. It was a necessary
precaution, and clearly indicated the grave possibility of the old
_Warrior_ being unable to battle much longer against the ever-increasing
leaks.
There was now plenty of work for Sefton to do. Placed in charge of one
of the fire-parties he was soon strenuously engaged in fighting the
conflagration. With the flooding of the after magazine all danger of an
explosion was now at an end, but, unless the flames were speedily
quelled, the possibility of foundering would be materially increased,
since several shell-holes betwixt wind and water had occurred in that
part of the ship still dominated by the outbreak.
Although no doubt existed in the minds of the _Warrior's_ crew as to the
outcome of the general engagement, they were in suspense owing to a
total lack of news. Without wireless they were debarred from
communication with the rest of the squadron. As helpless as a log, the
battered vessel was floating in the vast expanse of the North Sea
without a single vessel in sight. The roar of the battle had rolled on
far to the nor'ard, and although the incessant rumble of the terrific
cannonade was distinctly audible, the _Warrior_ was as ignorant of the
course of events as if she had been a hundred miles away.
The almost flat calm had given place to sullen undulations rippled by a
steady breeze that threatened before long to develop into a hard blow.
There was every indication of an angry sea before nightfall.
An hour had elapsed since the _Warrior_ had ceased firing--sixty minutes
of strenuous exertion on the part of all hands--when a vessel was
sighted apparently steaming in the crippled cruiser's direction.
For some moments suspense ran high, for whether the strange craft were
friend or foe no one on board could give a definite decision.
"What do you make of her?" enquired Sefton's chum as the two young
officers stood under the lee of a partly demolished gun-turret.
"Precious little," replied Sefton. "Can't say that I am able to
recognize her. But in these times, with a new vessel being added to the
navy every day, one can hardly be expected to tell every ship by the cut
of her jib."
"She might be a Hun," said the _Warrior's_ sub. "One that has got out of
her bearings and is just sniffing round to see what damage she can do.
Hallo! There's 'Action Stations'."
The _Warrior_ was taking no unnecessary risks. She was still in a
position to bite, although at a terrible disadvantage if opposed to an
active and mobile foe. Gamely her war-worn men doubled off to the light
quick-firers, three rousing cheers announcing the fact that, although
badly battered, the gallant British seamen knew not the meaning of the
word surrender.
Nearer and nearer came the mysterious vessel. She was by no means moving
at the rate of a light-cruiser, her speed being about 15 knots. She
flew three ensigns on various parts of her rigging, but, being end on
and against the wind, the colours could not be distinguished.
Presently she ported helm slightly. Another roar of cheering burst from
the throats of the _Warrior's_ men, for now the colours were
discernible. They were not the Black Cross of Germany--a counterfeit
presentment of the White Ensign--but the genuine article--the British
naval ensign.
Simultaneously a hoist of bunting ascended to the signal yard-arm. A
hundred men could read the letters, but the jumble conveyed nothing to
them. Not until the code-book was consulted could the vessel's identity
be made known.
"_Engadine_, sir," replied the chief yeoman of signals. "Sea-plane
carrier, that's what she is," he confided in an undertone to another
petty officer standing by his side.
A lengthy exchange of semaphore by means of hand-flags ensued, for other
methods of communication on the part of the _Warrior_ were impossible,
owing to the clean sweep of everything on deck.
And now, in the rapidly rising sea, preparations were made for taking
the crippled _Warrior_ in tow. Already the cruiser's stern was well
down, and, badly waterlogged, she would prove a handful for a
powerfully-engined craft to tow, let alone the lightly-built _Engadine_.
But Lieutenant-Commander C. A. Robinson of the sea-plane ship _Engadine_
knew his business, and handled his vessel with superb skill. Thrice he
manoeuvred sufficiently close to establish communication between his
ship and the drifting _Warrior_, Twice the flexible wire hawser parted
like pack-thread. At the third attempt the hawsers held, and the
_Warrior_ slowly gathered way, wallowing astern of the _Engadine_ at a
rate of 4 knots--but every minute was taking the unvanquished cruiser
nearer Britain's shores.
By this time all on board knew that their sacrifice had not been in
vain. Jellicoe was known to have effected a junction with Beatty's
hard-pressed squadrons, the German High Seas Fleet was in flight, and
betwixt them and their North Sea bases was the invincible Grand Fleet.
"The Day" had proved to be a day of reckoning for the boastful Huns in
their efforts to wrest the trident from Britannia's grasp.