The U93 went to the bottom like a stone. On the surface of the water a
modern submarine is as vulnerable as she is deadly underneath it. These
boats, when compared to ocean-going steamers, have but little stability
and strength. They are the vipers of the sea--venomous snakes whose
backs may be broken with the lash of a whip, whose heads can be crushed
with a stone.
No sign of the submarine remained upon the surface, except the pool of
oil and the struggling forms of three men, who had somehow escaped
destruction at the moment of the collision. To save the lives of these
was a duty that devolved upon Captain Crouch, by dint of the fact that,
though he loathed the German nation from the Kaiser downward, he was
still a British seaman who could not stand by in idleness and witness
the needless death even of those who had betrayed him.
Lifebuoys were cast overboard, and with a promptness which says much for
the discipline on board the "Mondavia," a boat was lowered, into which
the three drenched, exhausted men were hauled neck and crop.
They were found to be three simple sailors; and though, because they
were subordinates, they cannot be held entirely free from blame, it must
be confessed that Captain Crouch was not filled with a great remorse
that the irony of fate had not decreed that he should save the life of
Rudolf Stork. In such a war as this personal animosity cannot be
altogether absent. It was from the very beginning a war to the knife;
and by methods of warfare hitherto undreamed of by the people of
civilized nations, by abuse of the Red Cross and the enemy's uniform,
and the introduction of poisonous gases and bullets reversed in their
cartridge cases, Germany has decreed that it shall remain a war to the
knife to the very end. Humanity, chivalry, even gallantry--these are
the virtues that belonged to the heroes of the past: the paladins, the
Crusaders, Wellington's soldiers, Nelson's sailors and the old Guard at
Waterloo. Nor can the honest nations be held to blame to-day if the
common enemy chooses to cast aside all that tends to make glorious and
noble the terrors and the fearful sacrifices of war.
In sinking one of the most famous of the U-boats within range of the
great guns of four of the most powerful of the German battle-cruisers,
Captain Crouch accomplished a feat which was as much to his own credit
as it was of service to his country. Still, he could never have
succeeded had he not been cast in a most heroic mould. Three separate
times did the U93 attempt to torpedo the ship, and on each occasion the
"Mondavia" escaped by a matter of a few feet, which is little enough
when we come to consider the illimitable magnitude of the sea. Moreover,
the merchant ship had been riddled fore, aft and amidships by the
submarine's quick-firing guns, and it was sheer good luck that not one
of these shells had struck a vital part of the ship. Two or three below
the water-line would have been enough to cause the "Mondavia" to sink.
Had the ship's steam steering-gear been damaged, or her engines rendered
useless, Crouch could never have rammed the submarine and sent her to
the bottom. On this occasion, as so often happens, fortune had favoured
the brave. The boldest course had proved the safest after all.
However, the "Mondavia" was far from being out of danger, as those on
board were soon to learn. The battle-cruisers had by now drawn so close
to the British steamer that, in all probability, the loss of the
submarine had been witnessed through the captain's telescope from the
"Bluecher's" bridge. At all events, five minutes had not elapsed after
the three German seamen had been rescued from the water before once
again the great guns of the "Bluecher" opened fire.
This time, by reason of the fact that the range was more decisive, the
"Mondavia" was in far more deadly peril. Every shell, as it came
whistling and shrieking through the air, seemed to cry out aloud for
vengeance for those who had perished on the U93.
To make matters worse, the "Moltke" took up the quarrel--if such it can
be called, when on one side there is a giant and on the other a
pigmy--and pounded the steamer till the sea on either side was white
with beaten foam.
The battle-cruisers were still steaming due north-westward. For miles
the horizon was streaked black with rolling smoke. Crouch could
scarcely hope to make good his escape by heading straight for the coast.
The "Mondavia" was far out to sea, and if she changed her course to the
westward would be travelling in an oblique line across the front of the
German cruisers, and of a certainty would be overhauled and sunk before
she had gone a mile.
Crouch's only chance lay in holding to the same course as the enemy
ships. Before long the "Mondavia" must be overtaken and destroyed.
However, for the time being, Crouch could strive to delay the inevitable
moment.
It was then a little after seven o'clock. The atmosphere was clear
though the sky was cloudy. The sun, which had appeared for a few
moments at daybreak, was now masked and invisible, except for a patch of
brightness above the eastern sky-line. There were no ships in sight,
save for a few trawlers veering towards the north. On that fateful
morning the neighbourhood of the Dogger Bank--swarming as a rule with
fishing craft of every kind and description--was unusually deserted.
The German battle-cruisers were now close enough for their hulls to be
distinguishable. The outline of each ship stood forth, clear-cut and
black, against the sky-line. Each was rushing forward at its topmost
speed, bearing down with inevitable precision upon the defenceless cargo
ship, which, like an exhausted, hunted animal, strained every bolt, bar
and rivet to save herself from unutterable disaster. Suddenly, it became
apparent that, in addition to the Dreadnought cruisers, the sea was
alive with a host of smaller craft--light cruisers and
torpedo-boat-destroyers. There were in all--so far as they could
see--six light cruisers and a number of destroyers, which were spread
out on all sides like a ring of skirmishers or scouts.
In less than five minutes, the "Mondavia" was reduced to a floating
wreck. She was so riddled with shell, so battered, torn and damaged,
that she was no more than a sheer hulk, lying idle on the waves. Her
funnel had been struck low down, and hurled piecemeal overboard, taking
with it the greater part of the boat-deck and the upper davits. Both
masts had been shot away, the main-mast falling forward, so that all the
superstructure on the main-deck, from the companion-way to the
chartroom, had been reduced to ruins. In the sides of the ship there
were, at least, half-a-dozen gaping holes, each one large enough to
admit the body of a man. One shell had burst in the engine-room,
killing the chief engineer and wounding three of his assistants, and
leaving the engines no more than a mass of scrap-iron.
How Crouch and Jimmy Burke lived in the midst of this, it is not
possible to say. The dogs of war, ferocious though they be, are
sometimes kind and sometimes pitifully cruel. One man will be killed by
a spent bullet the very moment he comes within the sound of guns;
whereas another, time and again, will live in the midst of mad, raging
carnage, and come forth unscathed and still alive.
Crouch's clothes were in rags and tatters. He had been hurled to the
forward well-deck when the bridge had given way, and had found himself
buried beneath a heap of splintered wood and twisted brass and iron. He
was bruised from head to foot, and had been, at first, a little stunned;
for a moment he had not been able to remember where he was.
And Jimmy Burke was in no better plight. Indeed, he looked as if he had
received a mortal wound, for he was all sprinkled with the blood of a
man who had been killed quite near to him--a poor fellow who had been
literally blown to pieces by an 11-inch shell that burst at his very
feet.
Crouch, followed by Jimmy, dragged himself to the forecastle, which was
the only point of vantage left on the demolished, shattered ship. Save
these two, no one was to be seen upon the deck, in which great holes
yawned like chasms. Here and there, in horrid attitudes, lay those who
had given up their lives, who had been murdered--for it was nothing else
but murder--under the Naval Ensign of the German Empire, for the vile
cause of the Fatherland and Kultur.
The great shells still rained in fierce and venomous profusion. Sooner
or later, the unhappy ship must be struck below the water-line, when
nothing could save the lives of those on board; for, not one of the
ship's boats remained, and they could hope for little mercy from German
seamen.
Captain Crouch looked about him like a man who finds himself, upon a
sudden, on the horns of a dilemma. In spite of his dishevelled and
tattered garments, he appeared quite unconcerned. He took not the least
notice of either the great shells or the deafening explosions which
every few seconds rent the air. He stood with his legs wide parted, and
both hands thrust into his trousers pockets.
"I don't know how it is we're still alive," said he; "or how the old
ship isn't lying on her beam ends, at the bottom of the sea. It's a
mystery that no one will ever solve. It would stump Solomon himself, or
my name was never Crouch."
"It can't last," said Jimmy, with his eyes fixed upon the gigantic
shadow of the "Bluecher."
"You're right, my boy," said Crouch; "it can't last; that's sure. We've
run our course; we've hove in sight of the harbour lights where all men
some day come to port. There's no need to signal for a pilot."
Even as he spoke, a shell came rushing past their ears, so close that
the hot air in their faces was like the blast from an oven. It plunged
into the sea, not twenty yards from the "Mondavia's" bows; and both
Crouch and his young companion were wetted from head to foot with spray.
"Another one like that," said Crouch, "and there's an end to you and me,
and the poor old ship as well."
For the next five minutes, these two stood side by side, waiting in
heroic patience for the end, which seemed so long in coming. And then,
on a sudden, like the sharp bark of an angry dog, a gun spoke--from the
north.
Crouch had lost his telescope; but, bringing the open palm of a hand to
his brow, he strained his eye ahead.
"Look there!" he cried. "Look there!"
"What is it?" asked Jimmy, breathless with instant hope and the terror
of the moment. "What is it?"
"I may be wrong," said Crouch; "but, unless I'm much mistaken, that's
one of the British light cruisers of the 'Arethusa' class, in all
probability the 'Arethusa' herself, or else the 'Aurora.'"
A few minutes sufficed to prove Captain Crouch in the right. The
"Aurora"--for it was she--had opened fire upon the leading enemy light
cruiser, which lay some distance to the east. And presently, two other
British ships appeared, which Crouch identified as the "Southampton" and
the "Arethusa."
The appearance of the British men-of-war meant the saving of the
"Mondavia"; since, the very moment the light-cruiser squadron hove in
sight, the German Dreadnoughts left the merchant vessel to her fate, and
directed their fire upon an enemy who was capable of answering back.
For all that, it was still a rank unequal fight; and Captain Crouch was
even more perturbed as to what would be the fate of the light cruisers
under the heavy gun-fire of the "Moltke," the "Derfflinger," the
"Bluecher" and the "Seydlitz," than he had been anxious about himself
and the ship that he commanded.
"By thunder!" he exclaimed. "They're as game as bantams. I never saw
the like of it! They've speed enough, it's true; but if it comes to a
square fight, they won't be able to keep above water for half-an-hour at
the most."
It seemed, indeed, that the light-cruiser squadron was purposely
courting death. Seven ships were now in sight: the "Southampton,"
"Nottingham," "Birmingham," "Lowestoft," "Arethusa," "Aurora" and
"Undaunted," besides Commodore Tyrwhitt's destroyer flotillas. These
ships would have proved far more than a match for the lighter German
men-of-war, but the presence of the four "Dreadnoughts" put a very
different aspect on the situation. And yet, the "Arethusa" and her
sisters tore onward, at full steam ahead, making straight into the very
jaws of a formidable and powerful foe
"I'm thinking," said Captain Crouch to Jimmy, "I'm thinking the
'Arethusa' must have something up her sleeve."
She had. She knew that she was backed up by some of the finest ships
that were ever launched, the monarchs of the sea. And presently, from
the north, the sudden report of a great gun smote the desolation of the
Dogger Bank with a mighty thunder-clap which was like the bursting of
the skies. And a little after, there hove into sight upon the northern
sky-line, the "Tiger" and the "Lion," and, in their wake, the "Princess
Royal," the "Indomitable" and the "New Zealand." The Titans were come
to pick up the gauntlet thrown by the Giants.