After the Battle
A buzz of voices greeted the ears of the two chums as they "blew
into" the ward-room. The first lieutenant, the engineer-commander,
three or four watch-keeping officers, the padre, and the surgeon had
foregathered to partake of a "stand-up" meal. The commander, having
swallowed a cup of cocoa, was making for the bridge, with the
remains of a half-consumed bully-beef sandwich in his bandaged hand.
"Hardly knew we were in action," declared the engineer-commander.
"Once or twice, perhaps, when we were hit by shells; otherwise, we
might have been on steam trials for all we knew."
"Gave the blighters a bellyful, anyway," observed one of the junior
lieutenants. "My gun was out of action five minutes after the
battery opened fire. Not half a mess. Looked out and saw an enemy
battleship blow up. Seemed slow work, but it really didn't last
fifteen seconds."
"I saw her, too," added another. "The wreck of her standard compass
landed on our quarter-deck. Hanged if some marines didn't clear out
of the battery and start picking up the bits for souvenirs. Hello,
Weeds, back to your little grey home again, I see. What were your
impressions, old lad?"
"Noise," replied Cavendish. "Had enough to last me a lifetime, so I
came down here for quietude and find none."
Which went to show that Cavendish, usually a jovial soul, was
decidedly "mouldy". Now that this phase of the action was over, his
nerves were very much on edge.
As for Peter Corbold, he was as yet hardly able to realize his
surroundings. He could hear people talking, but their voices seemed
far away. His head was buzzing like a top. His throat was dry and
parched. He was hungry. Yet, somehow, now that food and drink were
available, he made no immediate effort to satisfy the inner man.
The ward-room had come off lightly. There was one hole in the side,
apparently made by a 6-inch. The missile had glanced off the fore
transverse bulkhead and had brought up against the fore-and-aft
bulkhead separating the ward-room from the half-deck lobby. In its
course the shell, which luckily did not explode, had completely
gutted the piano, although the front of the already sorely-tried
instrument showed no signs of internal disarrangement.
There were no settees or chairs. Down the centre of the room was a
trestle table hastily rigged up by the mess-room servants. On it
were enamel cups and plates, open tins of bully beef, bread and
butter, and two iron kettles filled with hot cocoa, The ward-room
crockery was no more.
"You'll have to buck up, Soldier, and replenish our mess traps,"
remarked the doctor to the captain of the marines, who held the
honorary yet responsible position of Mess President.
"We'll have to wait till we go home for that, M.O.," replied the
marine officer, "unless we loot the official residence of the
President of Rioguay."
"When are we going home, anyway?" inquired the Chaplain. "We can't
barge about here, drawing thirty-eight feet of water for'ard, and
there are no docks available out here."
"If you don't know, Padre, who does?" rejoined the First Lieutenant
grimly. In other circumstances, the jest would have raised a general
laugh, but no one even smiled.
The Senior Medical Officer pushed aside his plate. As he moved, the
smell of iodine followed him.
"Must see the Owner," he announced. "He wants a list of casualties."
"What is the butcher's bill, M.O.?" asked the Engineer-commander.
The surgeon shrugged his shoulders. Of all the ship's company he was
perhaps the best able to estimate war at its true value. Without
providing the excitement of combat his work brought clearly before
him just those nerve-racking details which the fighting man himself
is too busy to realize until such time as they cannot influence his
conduct.
"Heavy," he replied. "Very heavy. Some people are fond of telling
you that war is one remedy for over-population. It is: only it
starts at the wrong end. The weakling and the man who has enjoyed
life go scot-free, or nearly always, while youth and strength pay
the toll."
"S'pose it's the same with t'other side," observed "Jimmy the One",
after the M.O. had gone. "That pot-bellied bald-headed president of
theirs tells 'em to go and get killed, and they do. Dash the
Washington Conference, say I. If we'd a navy--an incontestably
strong navy--President Jaime Samuda wouldn't have dared to declare
war. We're winning, but look at the price we've paid--our ship
alone."
"Sooner we get back to a Two or even a Three Power standard, the
better for everybody," added the Chaplain. "'Defence, not defiance',
you know. A big navy is synonymous with security; a small
navy--well--a big casualty list, and I've seen enough of a
dressing-station to-day to make me plump for an Umpteen Power
Standard."
"And what's your opinion, Padre, about disarmament?" inquired the
Engineer-commander. "Only the other day, when we were lying at
Bermuda--after ye with the butter, Weeds, old son--at Bermuda, you
remarked--hello! there's action stations!"
The shrill notes of a bugle had the effect of clearing the ward-room
almost as quickly as if a hostile shell had made a sudden and
unexpected entry. In double quick time the already battle-worn
officers raced off to their respective posts.
"It's 'hands to night defence'," corrected Cavendish, as the two
chums gained the quarter-deck. "Well, thank goodness we're in the
same watch-bill. It's going to be a sticky night."
Their station was on the fore-bridge, which, since the ship was
going astern, corresponded to the after-bridge. Here, Cavendish was
in charge of the searchlight party and the light quick-firers.
Corbold's task was to take charge of the hands told off to work the
anti-aircraft ray apparatus, since it was quite possible that the
Rioguayan air fleet would attempt to make good the disaster to their
surface ships.
But nothing of the kind happened. No hostile flying-boat was
reported. Neither were the enemy submarines in evidence, although
several of the crippled British light cruisers and destroyers
offered an easy target in the bright starlight of the tropical
night.
Away to the north-west flashes of gunfire were still visible, while
now and again far-flung bursts of flame indicated the business-like
activities of the British torpedo craft in the same quarter.
Nevertheless, it was not all watch on board the _Rebound_. Work was
the principal order of the night. Certain repairs had to be put in
hand forthwith; others less urgent had to wait, while much of the
damage was beyond the resources of the ship and would have to be
deferred until she was in dockyard hands. But before dawn, the
débris had been dumped overboard. A turret, which had been jammed at
the same time that B turret was knocked out, was again in fighting
trim. The rents in the two funnels were patched, thereby freeing the
ship from the danger and inconvenience of spark-laden smoke sweeping
for'ard along the boat deck. The damaged tripod mast was
strengthened by means of steel rods and booms "woolded" with fathoms
of flexible steel wire and light chain. Electric-light circuits and
pipes belonging to the Downton pump system had been repaired and the
wireless aerials renewed.
The _Rebound_ was no longer cut off from the rest of the world and
the fleet in particular. It was now possible to receive a fairly
accurate account of the battle. The remnants of the Rioguayan fleet
had gained Venezuelan territorial waters, and were creeping within
the three-mile limit towards their base. Every vessel flying the
Republican colours was carefully watched over by the British light
cruisers and destroyers, ready, should the enemy vessels
incautiously go outside the limit of neutral waters, to "slap in a
mouldy" (torpedo) or to open fire. Throughout the night, the course
of the demoralized Rioguayan ships was carefully checked by scores
of British sextants, while gunlayers stood by with fingers itching
to press firing trigger, and leading torpedo-men lingered longingly
over the "bar" by which the deadly Whitehead was dispatched on its
errand of death and destruction. The Rioguayan battleships had put
up a good fight at the commencement of the action. Confident in
their superior numbers, they fired salvo after salvo with
commendable accuracy; but when the British shells began to find
their target with a skill and rapidity that was an eye-opener to the
Republican crews, the _moral_ of the Rioguayans simply vanished.
Of their capital ships, two were blown up by gunfire, three were
torpedoed and sunk, two were captured, although of these one was in
a sinking state and had to be abandoned by her prize crew during the
night.
Their light cruisers had come off lightly, for directly the
Rioguayan battleships turned sixteen points and fell back, they
played for safety, steaming off at full speed to the nor'ard.
Nevertheless, three had been overhauled and sunk by five light
cruisers of the D class.
Amongst the hostile destroyers the losses were also slight, for
they, too, were broken reeds. One flotilla did, however, attempt a
night attack upon the severely-punished British battleships, but was
driven off by the supporting light cruisers and destroyers with a
loss of six out of the fourteen craft originally comprising the
flotilla. It was already perfectly clear that President Samuda's
plans for the future greatness of Rioguaya--and incidentally of
himself--stood a particularly poor chance of ever being realized if
they depended for success on naval supremacy.
On the British side the losses were heavy, but confined chiefly, as
far as ships were concerned, to the light cruisers and destroyers,
which pushed home the attack with a dash and daring worthy of the
traditions of the senior service. All the battleships had survived
the action and were still capable of dealing hard knocks. The
_Rebound_ had been seriously damaged; the _Royal Oak_ had received
three big shells just above the waterline, but, although listing to
starboard, was able to maintain her station. The _Retrench_ had
practically all the guns in her battery on the port side put out of
action, but her turret guns were undamaged. The _Repulse_, on which
the dockyard staff at Bermuda had set right her defects in time for
her to take her place in the line, had both her bows and stern blown
away as far as the 4-inch armoured belt. Her mainmast had gone by
the board. Altogether, she looked a wreck, but the damage hardly
impaired her fighting qualities, the ship being quite tight below
the water-line and her armament intact.
The losses in personnel were great: 1015 killed and 622 wounded. Of
these, the casualties on board the _Rebound_ accounted for 125
killed and 82 wounded. The excess of fatalities was a clear
indication of the destructive power of guns. Wherever a heavy shell
burst it killed everyone within the battery or turret. The wounded
were mostly hit by fragments of flying metal at a considerable
distance from the point of impact, or were severely burnt by fires
that broke out simultaneously in different parts of the ship. Only a
very small percentage received slight wounds. Except on board the
destroyers and light cruisers, there were no casualties from the
enemy quick-firers, the missiles failing to penetrate the armoured
parts of the ship. It was a stiff price to pay, and the task of
subduing the Republic of Rioguay was not yet accomplished. There
were still the Rioguayan flying-boats and submarines to be taken
into consideration. Britain's capital ships, though few in number,
had vindicated themselves against superior numbers of hostile
surface ships. Would they be able to confound the enemy and the
critics who so loudly declared that the day of the big battleship
was over, and that air-power would overwhelm the long-standing might
of Britannia's trident?