THE VICTORIA CROSS
Shocked, stunned, half blinded, Madden found himself kicking in the
water amidst a wreckage of spars, planks, buoys, with here and there a
swimmer struggling to stay on the surface. The whole mass of flotsam
swung slowly around the whirlpool where tug and submarine had sunk.
The circling water was filmed with oil, the life-blood of the stricken
submarine. Presently the concavity in the ocean mounted to level, and
its rotation slowly died away. The American found that his arms had
unwittingly clasped something which proved to be an empty tin canister
with a screw top. He hung to it apathetically. His ears bled from the
concussion of the torpedo, and it was with difficulty that he focussed
his eyes on anything.
Presently he became aware of a voice calling his name. It seemed a long
way off, but when he looked around he saw Farnol Greer quite close to
him. The thick-set black-headed fellow motioned for Madden to approach,
and the American kicked himself and his float in that direction. A
little later he saw that Malone was with Farnol, and that the two were
supporting a third man.
"Lend us a 'and, 'ere, Madden," called Malone; "our chap's knocked out."
"Who is it? Oh, it's Caradoc!" Madden stared down into the still,
upturned face with a dull emotionless feeling. He was too numb to feel
or sympathize. "Is he dead?" he finally asked.
"Wounded, sir," replied Greer.
At that moment, the Englishman moved slightly, opened his eyes.
"We--stopped it, Madden."
"Are you badly hurt?" inquired the American, becoming more nearly normal
himself.
"Punch through my shoulder."
"Were you hit in the explosion?"
"One of the _Panther's_ machine guns--ricocheted, I think."
"What rotten luck!" growled Madden.
Smith reached his good arm to the float. "Had it all my life in little
things, Madden, but the _Panther_--that torpedo----"
"Boat ahoy!" called Farnol Greer suddenly.
Leonard looked about and saw that the _Panther_ had laid to, a good
two miles distant, and two of her cutters were coming back to pick up
the survivors. A blue-jacket on the sharp bow of the little vessel waved
an arm at Farnol's cry, and presently the rescuing party was alongside.
Caradoc went up first, then Farnol, Malone and Madden, who automatically
clung to his tin canister.
The sailors from the warship were chattering excitedly over the
miraculous preservation of the _Panther_.
"If that tug had been 'arf a second later," declared one, "she'd 'ave
'ad us, Sniper, sure--to th' port, there, Bobby, there's another chap
kickin' in th' water."
One of the sailors had a roll of bandages, and he now moved over to
Caradoc and stooped over the wounded man.
"You're pinked," he said in a tone of authority. "I'll take a turn o'
this linen around your shoulder." Suddenly he paused as he glanced into
the sufferer's face. "Why--why, hit's the Lieut'nant!" he stammered.
Then he stood erect and saluted properly. "Would you 'ave a bandage,
sir?" he asked in a different one.
Caradoc assented wearily and shifted his shoulder for the band of linen.
The fellow must have been a surgeon's helper, for he applied the strip
rather dexterously as the cutter steamed about picking up the rest of
the _Vulcan's_ crew who had survived the catastrophe.
Half an hour later friendly hands helped the waifs up the
_Panther's_ accommodation ladder, where a group of officers and men
waited to be of service to the _Vulcan's_ crew.
The deck of the cruiser was torn and blackened from the German fire;
here and there were sailors in bandages. Stretchers were placed at the
head of the ladder for the tug's wounded.
The crew, of the _Panther_ showed the utmost cordiality and also
the utmost curiosity toward their visitors. A dapper young midshipman
gripped Madden's hand as he stepped on the broad deck.
"Where did that tug come from?" he inquired at once. "Most extraordinary
sight--whole fleet pounding away at a tug--Ponsonby is my name."
Madden mentioned his own, and several brother officers, seeing that here
was an intelligent fellow, gathered about the American. Two or three
were introduced with English formality.
"If you are not too bowled over, old chap," begged a middy named
Gridson, "explain to us how a tug ever happened in the middle of the
Sargasso in full flight from a hostile fleet."
Some of the wounded were still coming up from the cutter, as Madden made
a beginning of the tug's story. Just then he was interrupted by
Ponsonby.
"Pardon, Madden, but who is that chap coming up--Say, Gridson, that
isn't--why that's Wentworth!" The middy suddenly dropped his voice.
"That's Wentworth or his ghost, fellows--off of a _tug_!"
Madden looked. Smith was coming on the deck under the solicitous escort
of a surgeon.
"That's Caradoc Smith," said Madden. "He assumed command of the tug when
he found out war was declared."
"Smith was part of his name," explained Gridson. "Caradoc
Smith-Wentworth was the way he signed the register. He's of the Sussex
Smith-Wentworths. His brother took the title, you know."
"Just fancy!" marveled Ponsonby. "Cashiered six months ago, comes back
chasing submarines on a tug, a hero, from boot strap to helmet--a bloody
hero----"
"Hold there, Ponsonby," cautioned another officer named Appleby. "The
chap may be hurt seriously--you oughtn't to laugh."
"Just look at the old man shaking his hand!" ejaculated Gridson, as a
very erect gray-headed officer came down off the bridge and extended his
hand. "You wouldn't think he had cashiered him six months ago."
"I hope he gets his commission back," said Ponsonby, "but he will likely
lose it again from tippling."
"I believe he is cured," said Madden.
Appleby made some reply as the little group moved forward to meet the
wounded man. However, the surgeon and three senior officers were walking
with him below to the ship's hospital.
It required two full days to get the _Panther_ into shipshape
condition, and during that time the entire fleet kept a sharp lookout
for the German mother ship, but that huge mysterious vessel had
disappeared as utterly as if the Sargasso had swallowed her up.
Perhaps she did destroy herself to prevent capture, or perhaps her
sky-blue hue allowed the fleet to sail under her very prow while she
remained invisible. No doubt the two German warships which escaped had
warned their consort of her danger, and she had sailed for some port in
German Africa. At any rate she was never captured or destroyed.
However, on the evening of the third day, the looming red walls of the
floating dock appeared on the eastern horizon. It was so huge and vast
that even the crew of the battleship burst into a cheer.
Captain Ames of the _Panther_ immediately communicated with the
admiralty and arrangements were made to tow the dock to Antigua, where
she would be kept as a naval reserve until the end of the war and then
allowed to proceed to Buenos Aires.
The British Towing and Shipping Company was repaid for the loss of the
_Vulcan_, and a prize of five hundred thousand dollars distributed
among the tug's crew for sinking the submarine. Thus the dreams of
wealth aroused by the ill-fated _Minnie B_ were realized in a small
way by the dock's crew. No doubt Deschaillon has his frog pond, old Mrs.
Galton her plot of flowers, and Hogan a tall hat, a long-tailed coat and
a silver-headed cane.
One week after the Battle of the Sargasso, a formal dinner was given in
the officers' mess. At this affair two civilians were present, Leonard
Madden and Caradoc Smith-Wentworth.
Under the radiance of many electric lights, Caradoc appeared rather weak
and bloodless. However, everyone seemed quite cheerful. The talk was
naturally of the war. The officers were speculating upon the entrance of
Italy and Turkey into the struggle.
Presently Captain Ames touched an electric button and Gaskin, serene,
deferential and wearing an added dignity along with his new uniform,
entered the cabin with a basket full of ice and bottles on his arm.
When his helpers had cleared the table, the fat fellow moved decorously
from diner to diner, announcing each port of call by the subdued pop of
a champagne cork muffled in his napkin. Madden shook his head when the
solemn fellow bent solicitously over him. "Make mine water, Gaskin," he
requested in an undertone, laying three fingers over his goblet.
The cook changed almost imperceptibly from a straw colored bottle to a
glittering carafe of water; then he moved to Caradoc.
The Englishman hesitated a moment, glanced at Madden and said, "Same
thing, Gaskin."
Captain Ames must have observed his action, and showed his silent
approval by requesting water for himself. A few moments later the
captain arose.
"Gentlemen," he began in his crisp military voice, "His Majesty, and all
England, are greatly pleased at the work of the South Atlantic fleet. In
the report of our recent victory, the commander of the _Panther_
had an extremely cogent reason to commend very heartily the action of a
former officer of this vessel. To be exact and fair, it was an act upon
which the safety of this vessel and her crew depended."
A little polite applause filled the slight interval in the speech.
Caradoc colored somewhat and the captain continued.
"It is pleasant to me to announce that His Majesty, through the
Admiralty, has seen fit to reward this act by tendering Caradoc
Smith-Wentworth his commission as first lieutenant in His Majesty's
navy."
A real outburst of applause greeted this announcement, but the captain
held up his glass and raised his voice for silence.
"And I have the further pleasure to tender to Mr. Smith-Wentworth, at
his Majesty, George the Fifth's, express command, the Victoria Cross for
conspicuous bravery upon the field of battle."
"Let us drink his health!" he finished above the congratulatory uproar
that broke out on the announcement.
The men held their goblets at arm's length.
"Here's to you, Wentworth!" "To your deserved honor, my boy!" "To your
well-earned promotion, Wentworth!" they chorused heartily.
In the lull of drinking, Madden lifted his water to his friend.
"Here's to the _remittance_ man," he proposed solemnly, "who
vanishes to-night and leaves a _Man_."
Caradoc's long face was deeply moved as he looked into the eyes of the
youth whose life Providence had so intimately entwined with his own.
After a moment he responded steadily enough, "With all my heart, Madden.
And here's to the land which you taught me how to serve, my country--my
home--Old England!"
End of Project Gutenberg's The Cruise of the Dry Dock, by T. S. Stribling