MINED.
TWELVE hours later H.M.S. "Strongbow" was on her appointed station.
It was night. The wind had moderated considerably, yet there was
quite a heavy sea running. The young moon peeped between dark masses
of drifting scud, while to windward a bank of irregularly defined
clouds fringed with ragged tails betokened a repetition of the
unpleasant climatic conditions.
It was Sub-Lieutenant Aubyn's "watch below." Seated in the plainly
furnished gun-room, the scuttles of which were carefully screened,
were most of the junior officers who were off duty.
Some were playing cards, others were reading, in spite of the raucous
ragtime melodies ground out by a gramaphone that had already suffered
considerably from the effects of two months' buffeting. In the pauses
while the junior midshipman rewound the instrument of mental torture,
the slap of the waves against the vessel's side could be distinctly
heard.
"In for another dirty night," remarked Raeburn inconsequently.
The announcement was received in chilly silence. "Dirty nights" were
too frequent and too monotonous to form the subject of conversation.
The assistant engineer tried another tack.
"What do you make of the latest report from the Russian frontier?" he
asked.
"Oh, dry up, old man!" expostulated O'Reilly feebly. "What with your
cackle and young Jones grinding away at that blessed
gramaphone--Jones, if you put on another record I'll throw this book
at your head! There's no peace in the gun-room."
Aubyn smiled grimly. He realized that in the monotonous round of
routine his comrades were almost bored to death by their own company.
Even the versatile O'Reilly was becoming as surly as a bear with a
sore head.
"Keep your wool on, old man!" exclaimed Raeburn. "Strikes me, we all
want shaking up----"
Before he could complete the sentence the ship seemed to leap
vertically out of the water. A deafening crash followed. The gun-room
furniture was thrown in all directions, the occupants were either
hurled against the bulkhead or pitched violently on top of the
overturned gear, while the failure of the electric light left the
place in utter darkness.
Terence found himself lying across the remains of the gramaphone,
with someone's heel beating a tattoo on the small of his back.
For some seconds he remained where he was, his senses dulled by the
sudden shock. Then it occurred to him that the ship was not so lively
as usual. Her movements seemed decidedly sluggish. A confused roar,
the sound of many feet hurrying, mingled with the hiss of escaping
steam, recalled him to his senses. Either the "Strongbow" had struck
a mine or had been torpedoed. Above the tumult came the sound of the
bugle, the notes quavering to such an extent that the sub. hardly
recognized their significance.
"That's 'General Quarters'," he exclaimed, and freeing himself from
the persistent attentions of the unknown's heels, he sprang to his
feet and struck a match.
By its feeble glimmer he could form some idea of the chaotic aspect
of the gun-room. Many of his comrades had regained their feet, and in
their eagerness to obey the bugle-call were groping blindly for the
door. The concussion had jammed it badly. Two of the officers were
still prone amid the débris--stunned by the shock.
The match flickered and died out, but before Aubyn could strike
another, one of the midshipmen thrust a hastily rolled newspaper into
the remains of the fire on the stove and held it like a torch.
A combined effort on the part of O'Reilly and two of the midshipmen
burst the door from its hinges. Aubyn, assisted by Raeburn, lifted
one of the unconscious men and bore him on deck. Others performed a
like office for the second victim, while the rest filed up the
companion.
By this time the short burst of uproar had entirely ceased. Officers
and men were quietly falling in on the upper deck, awaiting the
captain's orders.
Silhouetted against the fitful moonlight could be discerned the cool
and resolute form of Captain Ripponden as he grasped the bridge-rails
and looked down upon the orderly mass of humanity. In that moment of
peril he was proud of his crew. They were worthy of upholding the
traditions of gallant British seamen. To what extent the "Strongbow"
was damaged he knew not. He was awaiting the carpenter's and the
boatswain's report.
As he waited, with a true seaman's instinct, he glanced to windward.
The approaching storm was not far off. Should it be necessary to take
to the boats the chances of being saved were very remote. Nor did
there seem any possibility of rescue from any other ship, for the
explosion had dislocated the wireless apparatus. The only chances in
that direction were that a passing vessel might detect the wail of
the syren--as it sent forth its call for assistance in the long and
short blasts that corresponded to the dot and dash of the Morse
Code--or might sight the coloured star rockets that were being fired
from the bridge.
Captain Ripponden deliberately delayed giving the order to take to
the boats. Although the "Strongbow" was sorely hit she showed no
immediate inclination to make her final plunge. The engine-room and
stokeholds were clear, and the engine-room staff still remained at
their posts below the water-line; nevertheless, the ship was making
water freely and was already considerably down by the head.
Suddenly a short thick-set figure ran aft between the double line of
seamen drawn up as calmly and as steadily as if mustered for
Divisions. Terence could hear the man's laboured breathing as he
hurried. It was the ship's carpenter, on the strength of whose report
Captain Ripponden's orders for immediate action would be delivered.
Up the bridge ladder the warrant officer made his way, then drawing
himself erect saluted his superior--a courtesy that the captain
punctiliously returned. Even in the presence of fearful and imminent
peril the regulation regarding the paying of proper compliments in
the matter of saluting were carried out to the letter.
The eyes of every man on deck were directed upon the silhouetted
figures of the captain and the carpenter on the bridge. Captain
Ripponden's head was observed to nod slightly several times as he
listened to his subordinate's report; then he stepped to the
after-bridge rails.
"My men," he shouted in stentorian tones that were clearly audible
amid the moaning of the wind and the hiss of escaping steam, "we'll
save the old ship yet. Twenty men to assist carpenter's crew. The
rest remain aft and stand easy."
Away doubled the working party, their task being to build a temporary
coffer-dam in the after side of the for'ard transverse bulkhead. The
"Strongbow" had bumped upon a drifting mine, the explosion of which,
occurring right under the bows and close to the water-line, had
flooded the bow compartments. The watertight bulkhead was dangerously
strained. Water was entering in small jets under the terrific
pressure in the flooded compartments; but although the pumps were
quite capable of keeping the leak under control, the bulkhead, unless
shored up, was in momentary danger of giving way.
Feverishly the carpenter and his men tackled the hazardous task.
Bolts of canvas, rolled hammocks and tarpaulins were piled against
the bulging steel bulkhead, and held in position by baulks of timber,
braced and chocked till the coffer-dam was as strong and firmly set
as human ingenuity could devise.
Meanwhile, the rest of the crew were allowed to smoke--a concession
that was eagerly welcomed, and the quarter-deck glowered with the
dull glare of lighted cigarettes and pipes. Those men who had turned
up without adequate clothing were ordered to find additional garments
to protect them from the numbing cold, while the cooks were told off
to the galleys to make hot cocoa. Even in the midst of peril Captain
Ripponden's thoughts were for the comfort of his devoted men.
As soon as the carpenter reported that in his opinion the strained
bulkhead was properly shored up, orders were given to the engine-room
for half-speed astern and a course shaped for Aberdeen. To drive the
ship ahead with her bows seriously damaged would be placing a
tremendous strain upon the coffer-dam, while when making sternway the
pressure would be considerably reduced.
"Let's hope we don't hit another of those infernal mines," remarked
O'Reilly to Aubyn, as the two officers made their way below. "I
don't think we are in a regular minefield. The one we struck was
evidently a derelict."
"Evidently," agreed Terence. "Judging by the damage done it must
have deteriorated, otherwise it would have sent us to the bottom like
a stone. I suppose it will mean turning over to another ship?
"Six weeks, patching the old 'Saraband' up," declared O'Reilly, who
almost invariably referred to the ship by her former name. "I wish
to goodness they'd appoint us to a cruiser or a destroyer and give us
a chance of seeing some fun."
"We have had a fair share."
"Yes, of hard work--which I don't mind--and getting bashed about
without being able to strike a blow in self-defence. Of course, it's
the call of duty----"
A muffled thud, coming from almost immediately below their feet and
followed by the unmistakable sound of rushing water, interrupted the
young officer's conversation.
They looked at each other for one brief instant, hardly able to
comprehend the nature of the latest calamity.
"Bulkhead started," announced Aubyn laconically.
Snatching an oil lamp from its bracket Terence rushed below, followed
by O'Reilly. Guided by the feeble illumination, for the electric
lighting installation was hopelessly out of order, the two officers
made their way down several short ladders. On the orlop-deck they
almost collided with Raeburn.
"After magazine flooded," announced the assistant engineer
breathlessly. "Huge rush of water. I was just off to get extra
hands, but you'll do. Be quick, there's no time to lose. The water's
pouring in like a sluice."
Knee deep in water the three officers made their way aft till their
arrival at the door of the magazine. The sentry was fumbling with the
lock, while two artificers, one holding a lantern, were impatiently
urging him to make a job of it and open the door. The whole of the
magazine was full of water, while the pressure had forced a part of
the bulkhead containing the compartment.
When the "Strongbow" struck the mine the concussion had caused a
hitherto undiscovered leak aft, the flow being concealed by the
locked door of the magazine until the pressure had become sufficient
to burst the thin steel walls. Being specially constructed for
flooding in case of emergency, the floor of the magazine was some
feet below the level of the orlop-deck.
"We'll have to tackle the leak inside," announced Terence. "Here,
one of you," he added addressing the men waiting by the door. "Cut
up and inform the carpenter. Look alive."
At length the marine sentry succeeded in shooting back the strained
lock. The officers hurled themselves against the door. It opened
inwards, at the same time releasing an additional flood of water,
that surged violently along the orlop-deck.
At every heave of the ship frothing billows careered up and down the
length of the confined space, wellnigh sweeping the little group of
officers and men from their feet. Already, taking into account the
state of the flooded fore compartments, the volume of water admitted
into the ship was causing her to move sluggishly. The danger of
foundering was still imminent.
Holding his breath and setting his jaw tightly, Aubyn literally leapt
down to the floor of the magazine. The mean level of the water was up
to his neck. Momentarily it would subside, then rise till it floated
him off his feet, yet gamely he struggled onwards, partly swimming,
partly wading.
The "Strongbow" was built on the "single-skin" principle. Only a
thin steel shell, riveted to curved ribs of the same metal, formed
her hull. The after magazine was on the port side, at approximately
the spot where the "run aft" of her lines began. It was here, as
Terence suspected, that one of the seams had gaped open.
Filling his lungs to their utmost capacity with the none too
wholesome air, the sub. dived. His fingers, already numbed by the
icy-cold water, came in contact with a gap through which a steady
torrent was pressing. His surmise was correct: several of the rivets
had been fractured, and between the lap of two adjoining plates a
serious leak had developed.
Whipping off his scarf Aubyn attempted to thrust it into the gap. The
rush of water swept it away. Off came his pilot coat. Thrice he
essayed to hold it in position, but his body being practically
water-borne he could exert little or no force. He felt still more the
numbing effect of the sea. In the semi-darkness, for he had only the
reflected light from the lanterns, the horror of the position gripped
him.
"If she goes, I'm done for," he thought, for in his fevered
imagination he fancied that the ship was already on the point of
making a final plunge. He felt tempted to desist from his efforts and
make a rush for safety. Then, as quickly as it had come, the wave of
panic left him.
"Got a hand-spike there?" he asked.
"Ay, ay, sir," replied one of the carpenter's crew who had just
arrived on the scene. "And some stoppers as well."
Two of the men plunged into the flooded magazine. The hand-spike was
applied to the temporary plug until it was forced into the gap.
"That'll hold, sir," announced one of the men confidently.
"Let's hope so," replied the sub. Then to himself he muttered, "And
my very best pilot coat."
For another ten minutes Aubyn stood and shivered, till one of the men
felt the sub.'s numbed hand shaking as he assisted to hold the
hand-spike.
"Leak's well under control, sir, I think," continued the seaman, a
burly Devonshire man. "Might I make so bold, sir, as to suggest that
you stand easy? We'll see to this all right."
The man spoke truly. All the available pumps working continuously
were sufficient to keep the remaining inrush of water well under
control. Already the orlop-deck was practically cleared. In the
magazine the water was just above the sub.'s waist.
Aubyn did not reply. He was incapable of speech. In the semi-gloom
the Devonshire man saw that something was amiss.
"Do'ee take hold of this a minute, Joe," he said to his comrade, as
he relaxed his hold on the hand-spike. "Now, sir, out you do come."
With that he literally carried the numbed form of his superior
officer out of the partly flooded magazine, just as others of his
mates were preparing to complete the task which Aubyn had
successfully begun.
Of what happened during the next few hours Terence had but a hazy
idea. He was dimly conscious of being placed into a hot bath, wrapped
up in blankets, and being put into his bunk. There, as far as he
personally was concerned, scarce troubling whether the ship went down
or otherwise, he fell into the deep sleep of utter exhaustion till he
was aroused by the officers' call followed by the shrill notes of the
bo's'un's mates' whistles.