Flying-boats _v._ Destroyers
Two dazzling beams from the _Messines_' bridge leapt across the
waste of dark water. The _Armentières_' searchlights were almost
immediately switched on, and the four powerful rays swept
inquiringly in the direction from which the flash of the hostile
quick-firer emanated.
Had there been two enemy vessels, Trehallow, as senior officer
present, would not have ordered the searchlights to be run. In those
circumstances it would have been bad tactics. Whilst you are
"picking up" one opponent, the other will, to a certainty, pour in a
withering fire. But when, as in the present case, it is possible to
concentrate the dazzling beams upon a solitary hostile craft, the
latter is practically blinded. She cannot fire with any degree of
accuracy right into a bewildering glare, while her gun-layers, in
the knowledge that they are literally "in the limelight" and in
momentary anticipation of the arrival of a death-dealing salvo,
become "jumpy" and possibly panic-stricken.
It was a matter of a few seconds before the beams picked up their
objective. The _Cerro Algarrobo_ was eight thousand yards away, and
had just turned eight points to port, or at right angles to her
previous course. With the discharge of her quick-firer she had
resorted to a very old trick--one that stood a fair chance of
success before the era of searchlights. She had dropped overboard a
balsa-raft with a lighted lantern, in the hope that her pursuers
would concentrate on that and give her an opportunity to escape in
the darkness.
But now she lay revealed, with two powerfully-armed destroyers, both
capable of giving her six or seven knots, well within effective
range.
The _Cerro Algarrobo_ was heavily armed and was protected on the
water-line. She had a very numerous crew, well trained in modern
naval warfare. Had the cruiser been manned by Britons and the
destroyers by the pirates, the former would have been more than a
match for her opponents. But the dominant factors--the man behind
the gun and the cool, calculating brain in the conning-tower--were
absent. The hot-blooded South American strain--partly Spanish,
partly negro, with a touch of Indian and a flavour of a dozen other
races--was no match for the British seaman.
Already, in her brief encounter with the _Complex_, the Rioguayan
cruiser had "bitten off more than she could chew". She had lain in
wait for the decoy ship in the belief that the latter was unarmed
and unsuspecting, and that she could, with impunity, fire upon the
already sinking British ship. Instead, she had been sent in headlong
flight, with gaping holes in her upper works and fifty of her crew
_hors de combat_ And worse was to come.
The 4.7's were getting to work. Splashes of lurid light marked the
explosion of the deadly missiles right on their target. The
Rioguayan vessel replied, but feebly, most of her projectiles
falling short and wide of the zigzagging destroyers.
In five minutes the _Cerro Algarrobo_ was on fire fore and aft. Her
masts and funnel had disappeared, her topsides were torn by ragged
gashes through which lurid flames poured fiercely.
She was still making way, but at a very reduced speed, and showed a
pronounced list to starboard.
"Cease fire!"
The pandemonium died down. A tense silence brooded over the
destroyers, save for the hiss of escaping steam and the _swish_ of
water from their knife-like bows.
Satisfied that the pirate craft had received her quietus, the
British destroyers were about to close and lower boats. There were
lives to be saved, even if they were those of blood-thirsty pirates.
Apart from humanitarian instincts, it was desirable to find out from
the survivors the exact particulars of the mysterious buccaneering
vessel.
A gun was discharged from the burning Rioguayan cruiser, Whether it
was a note of defiance, or merely caused by the flames exploding the
charge in a loaded quick-firer was a matter for speculation.
The masthead flashing lamp of the _Messines_ sent out a demand for
surrender, with the assurance that quarter would be given to the
survivors.
"X G E" (surrender), read out the Chief Yeoman to the signalman, at
the key of the flashing lamp, referring to the International Code
Manual, "O A H (I will give you)..."
Then he paused and turned inquiringly to the Lieutenant-Commander.
"Beg pardon, sir," he exclaimed, "but there ain't no right letters
for 'quarter '. Will this 'ere 'U E V' do?"
Trehallow glanced at the signal book.
"Use that and risk it," he replied, adding in an undertone, "s'pose
the Tower of Babel is responsible for this."
"Beg pardon, sir?" reiterated the Yeoman of Signals interrogatively.
"Carry on," said the Lieutenant-Commander curtly. So the signal had
flashed forth as follows:
"Surrender--I will give you one-fourth!"
The answer was in the negative. The _Cerro Algarrobo_ replied with
five or six rounds, one of the projectiles penetrating the
_Messines_' quarter and completely wrecking the Skipper's cabin.
There was no hope for it. Both destroyers reopened fire. In less
than thirty seconds an explosion was observed on board the hostile
craft. Then, in a pall of smoke, she disappeared beneath the waves.
The crews of both destroyers broke into a round of stentorian
cheers. With searchlights still playing on the debris-strewn water,
the _Messines_ hastened to search for possible survivors.
Slowing down, she lowered a couple of boats. The _Armentières_,
lying-to a couple of cables away, assisted in the search.
Two half-naked and badly burnt men were rescued from the keel of an
upturned boat. Others were observed to be clinging to a large float,
somewhat resembling a "Carley" raft, at a considerable distance from
the scene of the _Cerro Algarrobo's_ disappearance.
The _Messines_' whaler was hurrying to their succour when there was
a tremendous detonation within fifty yards of the _Armentières_. The
destroyers heeled under the upheaval of the water. Men on deck were
thrown about like skittles, some narrowly escaping being washed
overboard by the torrent of water that swept completely over her. At
the same moment her searchlights went out, probably owing to the
dislocation of the circuits under the terrific concussion.
"What are those seaplane fellows doing?" exclaimed Trehallow.
"They're bombing us, by Jove! Switch on our recognition lights. Be
sharp there!"
But before the order could be carried out, bombs were descending
close to both destroyers. Against the faint luminosity of the
starless sky could be discerned the outlines of half a dozen
aircraft, wheeling in squadron formation, preparatory to returning
to the attack.
"Hostile aircraft!" ejaculated the Lieutenant-Commander, hardly able
to credit his senses. "The sky's stiff with 'em."
The position of the destroyers was now an unusual one. With their
boats still away picking up survivors, they could not manoeuvre at
high speed. Their only means of offence was a solitary "A A" gun
each. They were taken by surprise and had no means of finding out
the actual nature of the aerial attack.
Ordering the searchlights to be screened and all lights visible from
without to be masked, Trehallow next telegraphed for "easy ahead",
at the same time warning the engine-room staff against the danger of
allowing flames to issue from the funnels.
Then he steamed slowly in the direction of the destroyer's boats,
the crews of which were still busy with the work of rescue, despite
the danger to which the latest development of enemy activity so
cruelly subjected them.
Doubtless the _Armentières_ was similarly engaged. There was no sign
of her in the darkness; added to the complicated business was the
possibility of the two destroyers colliding.
Whether the _Armentières_ was successful in her quest those on board
the _Messines_ were in ignorance. On her part, the _Messines_ was
fortunate to pick up her boats in quick time, including two
survivors of the _Cerro Algarrobo_. The others sighted clinging to
the raft had perforce to be abandoned to their fate; the coxswain of
the _Messines_' whaler afterwards reported that a bomb had fallen
close to the raft and had probably sent the luckless pirates to
share the fate of the bulk of their comrades.
The boats had only just been hastily hoisted in and secured, when
the loud drone of a dozen aeroplane engines announced the return of
the aerial attackers.
It would be no exaggeration to state frankly that the crews of the
two destroyers had--to use a pithy expression--"cold feet". On board
a lightly-built craft, with little or no protection--for the decks
were only of three-sixteenths steel--the crews were practically
helpless. All they could do was to "stick it "; for, with the
exception of the three hands manning the anti-aircraft gun, they had
no means of offence against the almost invisible menace from the
darkened sky.
In the heat of battle, even against odds, when each man had his
active part to perform, there was little or no time for thoughts of
personal danger. These were men who had willingly undertaken to
remain motionless for hours upon the deck of a Q-boat when shelled
by a submarine; they did so in the hope that an opportunity of
hitting back with interest was imminent, They had weapons wherewith
to strike and strike hard, and they were eager to take up the
offensive at the very earliest opportune moment.
But now the position was different, They were defenceless--or
practically so--against the hostile airmen. They were ignorant of
the nationality of their foes, of the strength and manoeuvring power
of the attacking aircraft. Yet not a man failed to do his duty,
although his greatest concern was to conceal from his "raggie" any
indication of the fear that gripped him. Both destroyers were now
without way. They realized that zigzagging tactics were too risky.
The tell-tale phosphorescent wake that had betrayed the fugitive
_Cerro Algarrobo_ would also reveal their presence to the men
controlling those swift-moving machines high above the surface of
the sea.
It was now so dark that the _Messines_ had entirely lost touch with
her opposite number. Not the faintest suspicion of a light was
displayed. The anti-aircraft gun of each destroyer was silent,
although the respective gunlayers were itching to let rip at the
reapproaching aerial squadron.
Suddenly a star-shell fired from the leading flying-boat threw the
two destroyers into a pool of light. All attempt at concealment was,
for the present, futile. Engine-room telegraph gongs clanged. The
long, lean boats darted forward, heeling to the action of their
helms put hard over. The "antis" spat viciously, the crash of the
exploding shells punctuating the roar of the aerial propellers.
One of the attacking aircraft, caught by a six-pounder, was
literally pulverized. Apparently the detonation of the projectile
had exploded her cargo of powerful bombs.
In the flash of the explosion, the rest of the attackers could be
seen staggering under the effect of the air-blast; but, admirably
handled, they recovered and resumed formation, closing up the gap
where the luckless flying-boat had been.
The British crews cheered ironically at the destruction of one of
their foes, but their triumph was short-lived. Almost before the
shouting had subsided, a bomb struck the _Armentières_ between the
stern and the after torpedo tubes. So terrific was the force of the
resulting explosion that the after part of the destroyer was
completely shattered. Deprived of her propellers and rudder, she
still carried way, though her deck as far for'ard as the aftermast
funnel was awash. Knee-deep in water, her shell-shocked
anti-aircraft gun's crew were still firing blindly.
"She's gone!" ejaculated Carfax, who with Cavendish and another
officer, was on the _Messines_' bridge.
"No fear," replied Cavendish, catching a glimpse of the
_Armentières_' outlines in the flash of the gun. "Watertight
bulkheads are holding."
Cavendish was now almost unconscious of the peril that threatened
the _Messines_. The plight of the _Armentières_ had displaced all
other thoughts. He felt himself speculating as to what ought to be
done and what he would do had he been commanding-officer of the
_Messines_.
Lieutenant-Commander Trehallow was grappling with a similar problem,
but in his case he was quick to act. To attempt to seek safety in
flight and leave the crippled destroyer to fall an easy prey to her
attackers never entered into his calculations. He was debating
whether to run alongside the _Armentières_ and remove her crew, or
whether to attempt to take the sorely damaged craft in tow.
The while bombs were dropping rapidly, but the enemy airmen were
either novices at the game or were too excited to act with
deliberation. The nearest of the terrible missiles fell not less
than eighty yards away, turning the otherwise calm sea into a
maelstrom of smoke-laden spray.
The second phase of the attack passed. The airmen had overshot their
quarry and were turning to approach in the eye of the wind once
more.
Trehallow rang for easy ahead, shouting to the quarter-master to lay
the _Messines_ alongside her consort. It was a difficult operation
in the darkness, but with admirable skill and judgment the
Lieutenant-Commander succeeded in his manoeuvre.
"Prepare to be taken in tow," he roared through a megaphone.
A greatcoated figure on the _Armentières_' deck raised his hand in
acknowledgment. Men dashed on to her fo'c'sle to receive the
heaving-lines. The wire hawsers were hauled aboard and shackled to
the towing strops with the utmost dispatch, but without confusion.
Here again discipline told.
Gently the _Messines_ forged ahead until the strain on the hawsers
was taken up. Then, in obedience to an order, dense clouds of smoke
issued from both vessels, enveloping them like a pall.
Under cover of the smoke-screen--one of the recognized appliances of
modern naval warfare--the two destroyers made a bid for safety. The
odds were now in their favour. A single aeroplane might venture to
attack through that lofty, dense, suffocating bank of artificial
fog. More would stand a serious risk of collision. And, apart from
having no visible target, an attacking aircraft would quickly loose
all sense of direction while within the limits of the smoke-cloud.
Trehallow's next move was to send a wireless message to the
_Basilikon_, requesting the light cruiser to keep away. It would be
useless devotion on the part of the latter to run the risk of being
destroyed by aerial bombs under cover of night.
Still zigzagging and consequently throwing a heavy strain upon the
towing hawsers, the _Messines_ carried on. There were limits to the
duration of the action of the smoke apparatus. Sooner or later the
two destroyers would have to emerge, but it remained to be seen
whether they had eluded the five flying-boats. Perhaps the hostile
aircraft were hovering, three thousand feet up and out of sight and
hearing, waiting for their prey to disclose their presence. A period
of suspense followed, but still the waiting planes--if they were
indeed waiting--gave no indication of their presence.
Presently Cavendish touched his companion on the shoulder.
"Listen!" he exclaimed. "Machine-gun fire!"
"Not the faintest doubt about it, Weeds," rejoined Carfax, as the
staccato reports were borne to their ears. "What's the move?"
At length the destroyers crawled slowly from the fringes of the
smoke-cloud. The moon had risen and the sky and sea were bathed in
brilliant yellow light. Not a sign of the hostile aircraft was to be
seen. Twenty minutes later came the solution of the affair in the
form of a wireless from one of the _Basilikon's_ seaplanes.
"Report engaged unknown hostile aircraft. Two shot down. Rest in
flight. Pursued, but unable to overhaul."