The rest of the flotilla that the four destroyers belonged to had
their own adventures later. One of them, chasing or being chased, saw
Goblin out of control just before Goblin and Shaitan locked, and
narrowly escaped adding herself to that triple collision. Another
loosed a couple of torpedoes at the enemy ships who were attacking
Gehenna, which, perhaps, accounts for the anxiety of the enemy to
break away from that hornets' nest as soon as possible. Half a dozen
or so of them ran into four German battleships, which they set about
torpedoing at ranges varying from half a mile to a mile and a half. It
was asking for trouble and they got it; but they got in return at
least one big ship, and the same observant battleship of ours who
identified Eblis's bird reported _three_ satisfactory explosions in
half an hour, followed by a glare that lit up all the sky. One of the
flotilla, closing on what she thought was the smoke of a sister in
difficulties, found herself well in among the four battleships. "It
was too late to get away," she says, so she attacked, fired her
torpedo, was caught up in the glare of a couple of searchlights, and
pounded to pieces in five minutes, not even her rafts being left. She
went down with her colours flying, having fought to the last available
gun.
Another destroyer who had borne a hand in Gehenna's trouble had her
try at the four battleships and got in a torpedo at 800 yards. She saw
it explode and the ship take a heavy list. "Then I was chased," which
is not surprising. She picked up a friend who could only do 20 knots.
They sighted several Hun destroyers who fled from them; then dropped
on to four Hun destroyers all together, who made great parade of
commencing action, but soon afterwards "thought better of it, and
turned away." So you see, in that flotilla alone there was every
variety of fight, from the ordered attacks of squadrons under control,
to single ship affairs, every turn of which depended on the second's
decision of the men concerned; endurance to the hopeless end; bluff
and cunning; reckless advance and red-hot flight; clear vision and as
much of blank bewilderment as the Senior Service permits its children
to indulge in. That is not much. When a destroyer who has been dodging
enemy torpedoes and gun-fire in the dark realises about midnight that
she is "following a strange British flotilla, having lost sight of my
own," she "decides to remain with them," and shares their fortunes and
whatever language is going.
If lost hounds could speak when they cast up next day, after an
unchecked night among the wild life of the dark, they would talk much
as our destroyers do.
The doorkeepers of Zion,
They do not always stand
In helmet and whole armour,
With halberds in their hand;
But, being sure of Zion,
And all her mysteries,
They rest awhile in Zion,
Sit down and smile in Zion;
Ay, even jest in Zion,
In Zion, at their ease.
The gatekeepers of Baal,
They dare not sit or lean,
But fume and fret and posture
And foam and curse between;
For being bound to Baal,
Whose sacrifice is vain,
Their rest is scant with Baal,
They glare and pant for Baal,
They mouth and rant for Baal,
For Baal in their pain.
But we will go to Zion,
By choice and not through dread,
With these our present comrades
And those our present dead;
And, being free of Zion
In both her fellowships,
Sit down and sup in Zion--
Stand up and drink in Zion
Whatever cup in Zion
Is offered to our lips!