THE END OF THE "TANTALUS"
"SHE'LL do it, I fancy," remarked the officer of the watch as the
sorely stricken "Tantalus" drew closer and closer to the shore.
The cruiser was making for a broad and comparatively shallow bay,
now distant about two miles. Eight hours had elapsed since the
torpedo had "got home," and the sun was sinking low in the west.
With two destroyers in close attendance there was little fear of
loss of life unless the final catastrophe occurred so suddenly that
the heroic engine-room officers and artificers and the stokers were
trapped before they could make their way on deck. The remaining
destroyers were patrolling at about two miles off, keeping a sharp
look out in case another hostile submarine attempted to precipitate
matters.
"It certainly looks as if we'll manage it," agreed Farrar. "Already
we are in shoal water. The leadsman has just sung out, 'By the mark
fifteen.'"
The lieutenant leant over the bridge rail. Thirty feet below and
within a couple of yards of the sea was a small grated platform
projecting over the side. In normal conditions the leadsman's place
was twenty-five feet above the water-line, but the cruiser had
settled to such an extent and was listing so much to starboard that
there was hardly room for the men to swing the weighty lead before
releasing it.
"That's promising," agreed the officer of the watch. "Slogger, my
festive, I'll give you a fiver for the motor-bike you bought from
the marine officer."
"Thanks--no; I'll hold on to it," replied Farrar. "It will come in
handy when I get my leave."
Even as he spoke a heavy cloud of smoke and steam issued from the
funnels and steam pipes. Almost at the same time the labouring thuds
of the hard-worked propeller ceased to be heard. Above the hiss of
escaping vapour rang out the strident shouts of the bo'sun's mates
as the engine-room ratings were ordered on deck.
"That's done it!" exclaimed the sub. "Suppose you won't reopen your
offer?"
"Dead off," replied the lieutenant, laughing.
"That motor-bike will give the mermaids a chance of joy-riding....
Hullo! we're preparing to anchor."
Deep down the "Tantalus" carried but little way. Already her motion
through the water was hardly perceptible. On the fo'c'sle the hands
were hard at work clearing away, setting back the compressors and
slacking off the cable-holders.
"Stream the buoy!"
Smartly the canvas-clad seamen stepped clear of the cable as the
watch-buoy and rope were thrown over the side.
"Let go No. 1 Bower!"
Deftly a hand told off for the purpose removed the pin of the
releasing lever; to the accompaniment of a rumbling, metallic sound,
as the chain surged through the hawse-pipe, the enormous anchor,
weighing a little over five tons, went plunging to the bottom.
The "Tantalus" brought up in nine fathoms, to settle on the sandy
bed until the time came for that gaping hole in her side to be
repaired.
The moment had now arrived for the order "Abandon ship!" With
absolute precision and deliberation the davit boats on the starboard
side were lowered. The sick-bay cases, with stewards in attendance,
were the first to be sent away; the members of the diplomatic
mission followed; and then the seamen took their places in the boats
until the latter had received their full complement. The boats in
davits on the port side were useless, owing to the extreme list of
the ship, while with the final break-down in the engine room, steam
could not be used to work the main derrick. Nor was it deemed
advisable to get out the boom boats by hand, as the additional
weight of the heavy craft would endanger the already slight reserve
of stability of the heeling ship.
"We may have to swim for it yet, old boy," exclaimed Farrar,
stooping to pat Bruno's head, for the St. Bernard seemed to realise
instinctively that all was not well on board and had stuck
resolutely at his master's heels.
Weird noises from 'tween decks announced that the list was growing
so excessive as to cause all slightly secured gear to break adrift.
The men still drawn up on the quarter deck and fo'c'sle were with
difficulty retaining their foothold, for the steepness of the planks
resembled the roof of a house.
All eyes were fixed upon the solitary figure of the captain as he
grasped the guard-rails of the bridge. Still the order, "Each man
for himself!" was not forthcoming, for the destroyers were closing
upon the sinking ship.
With hardly the loss of a square inch of paint the "Antipas" ranged
alongside the cruiser's starboard quarter, Tressidar's chief anxiety
being to guard against the danger of his command being pinned down
by the outswung davits, for the upper blocks of the falls were
within a foot or eighteen inches of the destroyer's rail, while the
lower blocks were clattering against her side.
"Jump for it, lads!" shouted the captain.
Then, and only then, did the rigidly straight and silent ranks
break. In fifteen seconds four hundred officers and men, together
with the varied assortment of ship's mascots, were safely on board
the "Antipas," while a like number gained safety on the destroyer
that had run alongside the cruiser and ahead of her consort.
In strict accordance with the ancient and honourable custom of the
Senior Service the captain was the last to leave the ship.
Descending from the bridge he made his way aft, saluting his command
for the last time as he gained the quarter deck. Then, with the
water up to his knees as he reached the lee side of the listing
deck, he, too, found temporary refuge on the destroyer "Antipas."
With their numerous super-complements the two destroyers backed
clear of the sinking ship, coming to a standstill at a distance of
three cables from the veteran cruiser.
The end was not now long in coming. More and more grew the heel,
until the after-funnel, bursting its wire guys, crashed over the
side. Two more followed in quick succession; then, with a terrific
rending of metal and woodwork, the for'ard 9.2-inch gun and its
armoured hood lurched overboard, throwing up a column of spray that
o'ertopped the slanting fore-truck.
Relieved of the ponderous weight the "Tantalus" recovered slightly,
but the righting movement was but temporary. The inrush of water was
as loud as the concentrated roar of a dozen mill-streams, while ever
and again came the explosion of compressed air as the bulkheads gave
way under the irresistible pressure.
Then the after 9.2-inch followed the example of the for'ard one, the
muzzle of the enormous weapon ploughing up a large portion of the
quarter deck before it toppled over the side.
The ends of the lower signal yardarms dipped beneath the water; the
main-topmast, snapping just above the fire-control platform,
disappeared, taking with it a tangled mass of wire and hemp cordage.
Cowls, derricks, and a medley of deck gear were taking charge, while
the heavy boom boats, breaking from their securing lashings, slid
noisily into the sea.
Amidst a smother of foam, and surrounded by an archipelago of
floating debris, the "Tantalus" fell right over on her beam ends,
resting on the bottom with only a portion of her port battery
showing above the still agitated water--the grey-painted metal
tinted a ruddy hue in the last rays of the setting sun.
"Give the old ship a cheer, lads!" shouted her late captain.
The men gave three resounding cheers in the true old British style,
the soft west wind catching the echoes and sending them far and wide
across the lofty Cornish land; while the "Antipas" and her consorts
bore away for the Trecurnow Naval Base.
"We've a pretty big crowd on board," remarked Holcombe to his chum
Farrar. "You hardly expected to find yourselves shipmates with a
horde of Huns, did you?"
"Shipmates with a horde of Huns?" repeated Farrar. "What do you
mean?"
"Simply that we have the crew of the U-boat that torpedoed you
safely under hatches."
"That's good!" exclaimed the R.N.V.R. sub. "We heard that you had
strafed old Fritz, but having her crew on board is news--
absolutely."
"And," continued Holcombe, "we were examining the prisoners'
effects. In the kapitan's pocket-book we found a receipted bill for
a double dinner at one of the leading hotels at Trebalda. The old
sinner must have gone ashore in mufti, taking one of the officers
with him most likely, or else he met a pal. Mark my words, there'll
be some lively developments. The kapitan--von Loringhoven's his
name, brother to that Zeppelin commander who raided Barborough last
year--looked a bit silly when we found the document, but he wouldn't
say how he got hold of it. It's up to some one to find out. So our
skipper is going to send the bill to Scotland Yard."
"What's von Loringhoven like?" asked Nigel.
"Too much like an Anglo-Saxon to my idea," replied Holcombe. "Speaks
English without a trace of a German accent."
"And his second-in-command?"
"Unspeakable," answered the destroyer's sub with a shrug of his
shoulders. "A loose-lipped, chinless Hun, with an everlasting giggle
that is ever present when he has the wind up properly. He speaks
English after a fashion; but he'd give himself away before he opened
his mouth."
"Then one may take it for granted that von Loringhoven's companion
at dinner was not his unter-leutnant," decided Farrar. "I wonder if
the fellow who tried to blow up Poldene Bridge had a hand in that
evening's festivities?"
"You're a rum one for fantastic theories, Slogger," protested
Holcombe.
"P'r'aps;" admitted Farrar; "but strange things happen in the war,
you know."