It can scarcely be denied that danger, and even death itself, are more
terrible from a distance than when they actually stare us in the face.
The truth is that, in moments of intense nervous strain, there is little
time for the imagination to run riot; and--as the greatest of all poets
has told us--it is imagination, more than anything else, that causes
fear and panic. A time of emergency is a time for action, when it is
better to do than to think. And always is it wiser and more manful to
strive for success than to pause to consider, even for a single instant,
the possibilities of failure.
Jimmy Burke, as he hastened down the engine-room steps, was concerned
with one thing only: to reach the bomb before it was timed to explode.
Had he waited to consider what would happen should he be too late, it is
more than probable that he would have failed; he would never have lived
to tell the tale. As it was, breathless and expectant, with a cold
perspiration broken out upon his forehead, and his heart thumping
violently against his ribs, he reached the infernal machine in the very
nick of time. Seizing the burning end of the fuse between a thumb and
finger, he crushed it out: and thus was the "Harlech" saved.
None the less, to make doubly sure of success, he carried the bomb up
the staircase to the alley-way, where he threw it down an ash-shoot into
the sea.
In the meantime Captain Crouch, seated on the stern seat of the last
boat to leave the ship, found himself--as the saying goes--between the
hammer and the anvil, between Scylla and Charybdis. He was anxious to
make amends for the fatal mistake that he had made; to save, if
possible, the life of the boy who was still upon the ship. And on that
account, he found himself in something of a dilemma.
If he put back to the "Harlech," he imperilled the lives of every man in
the boat; and he felt some doubt as to whether he was justified in doing
that. He thought over the matter quickly, and then resolved to speak
the truth.
"My lads," said he to his men, "all the voyage through I've done a great
injustice to that boy of ours. He was a stowaway, right enough, but as
loyal as I am. Even to-night, he did his utmost to warn me of danger
ahead--he played the part of a man. Now, I ask you a fair question, and
I want a straight answer, such as a sailor has a right to expect. For
some reason or other, the boy has been left behind; and the ship--as you
know--is doomed. She may have another minute to live; but the chances
are that in a few seconds she'll be sent sky-high, blown to smithereens.
Now, here's the point: are we to go back, and try to save the lad, or
shall we row ahead for the shore? Yes, or no? There's no betwixt and
between in a matter such as this."
The men in the boat did not take long to make up their minds. They were
all British born--men whose forbears for generation after generation had
earned their bread upon the sea. And nowhere else is the spirit of
self-sacrifice and honest heroism more dearly fostered, nowhere else is
a finer school for courage, than upon the broad waters of the ocean
where young and old, from the forecastle to the galley, from the North
Sea trawler to the Atlantic liner, take their fortunes in their hands
and run the danger of their lives amid the wild typhoons of the southern
seas, the blizzards of the Horn, and the icebergs of the Arctic. As one
man, they offered to return to the stricken ship, to endeavour to save
the stowaway.
Turning the boat round, they rowed in desperation, for their own lives
also were at stake. The moonlight now seemed brighter than before; the
few clouds had shifted; a light wind had sprung up from the west which
formed endless ripples upon the surface of the sea, that glistened
everywhere like myriads of spangles.
They could see the dark hull of the doomed ship, looming large against
the sky-line. She lay there in the midst of the night, helpless and
silent, like the great carcase of some stranded mammoth beast. And
though these men rowed in a kind of frenzy, straining every nerve and
muscle to the utmost, there was little hope in their hearts.
By now, the submarine had drawn away from the "Harlech." Lying upon the
surface of the water, she was like a spider that watches its prey from
the centre of its web. The hatch of her conning-tower was closed. The
"Harlech," the U93 and the boat in which was Captain Crouch, stood to
one another in the relation of the corners of an equilateral triangle.
Waves were breaking against the superstructure of the submarine--waves
that were white as silver in the bright light of the moon.
Suddenly, Crouch let out a cry, and pointed excitedly towards the east.
"Look there!" he shouted. "A destroyer!"
Every man turned his eyes in the direction indicated; and there, sure
enough, standing out upon the sky-line, clearly silhouetted and looking
like the teeth of a broken comb, were the four funnels of a
torpedo-boat-destroyer, from which proceeded a long, black trail of
smoke that lay low and almost parallel to the surface of the sea.
The destroyer rushed through the water as an arrow comes singing through
the air. Even as they looked, she grew larger and more distinct; until,
presently, they could hear the throbbing of her engines and see the
churned water lashed by the revolutions of her screws.
The U93 dived like a startled duck. In a few seconds she was gone.
The destroyer, which was originally heading straight for the "Harlech,"
now changed her course, and began to move round in circles, steaming at
topmost speed, in her movements for all the world like a joyful dog on a
lawn.
When the ship's boat was not more than a hundred yards from the
"Harlech," the destroyer drew to within speaking distance, and the
lieutenant-commander upon the bridge shouted to Captain Crouch.
"Have you seen the U93?" he asked.
"Seen her!" cried Crouch. "Why, she's not a cable's length from where
you are. We have been turned out of our berths, and given five minutes
in which to leave the ship; and there's a bomb on board which should
have exploded before now."
At that, the British commander appeared vastly excited, raising his
voice even louder.
"Then, man alive, keep your distance!" he bellowed. "If the explosion
takes place, that boat of yours is as likely as not to be scuttled by a
falling spar. You're heading the wrong way, man! Put about, get your
distance, and stand clear while the trouble's on."
[Illustration: "YOU'RE HEADING THE WRONG WAY, MAN! PUT ABOUT AND STAND
CLEAR WHILE THE TROUBLE'S ON."]
"I'm going back," calmly answered Crouch, whose men had never ceased to
row. "I'm going back to the ship, to save a boy who has been left on
board."
At that, the officer gave vent to an exclamation of surprise, and then,
raising his night glasses, vowed that he could see some one on the
forecastle-peak, waving his arms about him wildly, like one who calls
for assistance.
"Row ahead!" Crouch shouted to his men. "Row for all you're worth! That
bomb has misfired, or I'm a Prussian. We'll save the stowaway yet."
A few more strong strokes of the oars, and the boat drew alongside the
foot of the gangway steps. Crouch, agile as a panther, sprang on to the
footboard, and racing to the main-deck, came on a sudden face to face
with Jimmy.
"Come off!" he cried. "There's no time to spare."
Jimmy Burke could not refrain from smiling.
"It's all right," said he in a quiet voice. "It's all right; the ship's
saved. There is no danger any longer."
Crouch, catching his breath, stared at the boy in amazement.
"Saved!" he repeated.
"Yes. The bomb has been thrown overboard. I stayed on board to do it."
For at least a minute, Captain Crouch uttered never a word. Then,
quietly, without any show of haste, he took his pipe from his pocket,
filled it, struck a match and lit it, and puffed a cloud of smoke into
the air.
"I've known many men," said he at last, "and I've seen most parts of the
world. I was first introduced to danger--if I might call it so--when I
was little more than a lad, and we've kept up a nodding acquaintance
ever since. I've known different kinds of danger, too--all the family
relations, so to speak: jungle fever, malaria, cholera and Black Jack;
lions, tigers, rogue-elephants and buffalo, and the last's an ugly
customer when he's wounded--you may take my word for that; I've seen
war, shipwreck, cannibals, pygmies and sudden death; and I've known men
who could hold their own in the midst of the whole boiling lot. But
I've never seen, or heard, or read of, a finer thing, my boy, than you
have done to-night. I say that because I mean it; and there's a hand to
shake."
And Captain Crouch held out a hand which Jimmy took, to find himself
held fast as in a grip of iron.
"I ask your pardon, lad," said Captain Crouch. "I did you a monstrous
wrong. The evidence was against you, that's true enough. None the
less, I might have found out the truth before now. But I didn't. So
it's up to you to forgive."
Jimmy Burke knew not what to say. Indeed, he felt a little awkward. He
was undemonstrative by nature, and Crouch still held his hand.
"I ask your pardon, lad," said the captain again. "I shan't feel happy
till you've told me I'm forgiven."
"Of course, sir," said Jimmy, "I forgive. And after all, it was only
natural you should think as you did; the evidence was very black against
me."
Crouch let go the boy's hand, and walked quickly to the head of the
gangway. There he told the men in the boat below that the ship had been
saved, and ordered them to ascend at once to the main-deck. After
which, the captain himself hastened to the bridge, and there let loose
the siren.
The loud shriek of the ship's hooter broke upon the silence of the
night, to be echoed back from the Cornish hills, and to die away in the
distance upon the moonlit sea. It was the signal for the other boats to
return.
Time and again, Crouch sent out his message; and in between the hootings
of the siren, the little, wizened sea-captain paced to and fro upon the
bridge of the "Harlech" with quick and eager steps, his hands folded
behind his back and his head enveloped in the cloud of smoke that issued
from the bowl of his pipe. And in the meantime, His Majesty's ship
"Cockroach"--a destroyer with a displacement of over nine hundred tons
and a designed speed of thirty knots an hour, burning oil fuel only and
armed with three four-inch guns and four torpedo-tubes--was flying
hither and thither in the darkness like a mad dog in a storm.