THE FIGHT
The German gunboat, that the _Hawk_ had been following so assiduously,
had disappeared in the fog of the Sunday on which the _Ann_ was stopped.
Nevertheless, Calamity set the course each day with an unhesitating
decisiveness which seemed to suggest that he had some definite plan in
view. A day or two after that encounter a large steam-yacht painted
war-grey, and flying no ensign, was sighted steaming in a northerly
direction. Calamity, who was on the bridge at the time, examined her
through his glasses and then handed them to Smith, the mate being below.
"What do you make of her?" he asked.
The second-mate, after a long and careful scrutiny, handed the glasses
back.
"Looks like a commerce-destroyer," he said, "but blowed if I can tell
what nationality she is."
"H'm, we'll soon find out," answered the Captain. "Go for'ad and send a
shot after her as soon as I've altered the course."
Smith left the bridge, and, mounting the foc'sle, took the tarpaulin
cover off the quick-firer which was mounted there. Meanwhile Calamity
had brought the _Hawk's_ nose round so that he was now in the wake of
the strange ship.
"All ready, sir!" shouted Smith.
"Then let her have it."
The second-mate carefully laid the gun and next minute a shell went
hurtling over the yacht's stern; too high to do any damage, yet near
enough to make any nervous persons on board feel more nervous still. The
noise brought the privateer's crew tumbling on deck, eager to see what
was happening. Then, before the sound of the shot had died away, the
yacht was observed to be changing her course--steaming round in the arc
of a circle to starboard of the _Hawk_. Obviously she was not running
away, and the inference was that she intended to fight.
"Pipe to quarters!" cried Calamity from the bridge; but before the bos'n
had time to obey the order the men were rushing to their places. It
seemed as if there was going to be a fight at last.
The yacht, a steamer of about 3,000 tons, came round with her bows
pointing towards the _Hawk's_ starboard quarter, and, as she reached
that position, there came the sullen boom of a gun. A shell whistled
above the privateer's upper works, smashing to splinters one of the
boats which the carpenter had been repairing on the davits. A second
shot followed hard upon the first, and then a third, which smashed one
of the raised skylights above the engine-room, sending a shower of
broken glass upon the men below.
"Blimey!" ejaculated Smith as he stood by his gun, lanyard in hand,
"this looks like the real thing--not half it don't."
The damage done by the last two shots would have been greater still had
not Calamity thrust the quartermaster away from the wheel and taken it
himself. Under his control, the _Hawk_ slewed round so that she
presented only her bows as a target for her opponent. As the sound of
the latter's guns died away, she was seen to hoist the German naval
ensign at her stern, while a signal hoist was run up to the mast-head
signifying "Surrender or I sink you."
There was a lull, the two vessels facing each other bows-on like a
couple of fierce dogs about to fight. Then a little bundle trundled up
to the _Hawk's_ triatic stay, broke, and two burgees, one blue and
white, the other red, fluttered out in the breeze. It was Calamity's
answer: "Stand by to abandon ship." As his men looked up and read the
signal there was a burst of hoarse laughter, followed by a ringing
cheer. They realised the grim humour of the message, and thoroughly
appreciated it.
During the next half-hour the engagement consisted only of the exchange
of a few shots, one or two of which did damage on both sides. The
belligerents were manoeuvring for position, each trying to force the
other to fight facing the sun, which would, of course, place him at a
serious disadvantage. While these tactical evolutions were in progress,
a couple of the _Hawk's_ men received wounds and Miss Fletcher, who had
been watching the spectacle through her cabin porthole, rushed on deck,
in spite of the risk she ran of being hit herself. She was helping to
remove one of the injured men, when Calamity caught sight of her.
"Send that fool-woman to her cabin!" he roared to Mr. Dykes.
The mate hesitated. He was extraordinarily impressed by the girl's
plucky act, but the Captain's order, though a wise one, struck him as
being unduly harsh. Besides, he was loth to miss such a unique
opportunity of, perhaps, doing daring deeds under her very eyes.
"D'you hear what I say?" shouted the Captain.
"Excuse me, sir," he answered; "but who's to look after the wounded if
Miss Fletcher doesn't?"
"If the girl wants to make herself useful she can dress the men's wounds
in the hold. But I won't have a woman on deck during a fight."
It was an ungracious order, but Mr. Dykes had nothing for it but to
leave the bridge and acquaint Miss Fletcher with the Captain's
instructions.
"The skipper's compliments," he said, "and would you attend to the
wounded when they're taken down to the hold?"
The girl glanced at him sharply; probably the hesitating manner in which
he spoke roused her suspicions.
"That's not what he said?" she challenged.
"Well, I guess it's as near as no matter."
"You mean he has ordered me off the deck?"
The mate made a deprecatory gesture and turned away. For a moment the
girl hesitated, half inclined to defy the Captain's orders and remain on
deck. Then the futility of any such act of defiance occurred to her, and
she returned to her cabin, locking the door behind her.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, stamping her foot with rage, "I hate him!"
She continued to hate him ardently for a while, and then, as this gave
little real satisfaction, she opened her cabin door and peered out just
as Smith was passing.
"Are you going on to the bridge?" she asked.
"Yes," he answered, pausing.
"Then be good enough to tell the Captain that he can tend the wounded
himself," she burst out, and slammed the door before the astonished
second-mate could recover from his surprise.
He duly delivered her message, but it was doubtful if Calamity heard it;
certainly he made no comment, and Smith thought it wise to let the
matter go at that.
The two vessels were still fencing and manoeuvring, getting a shot in
when and wherever they could. But at last both the commanders tired of
these fruitless tactics, and then the engagement began in real earnest.
The yacht was armed with lighter guns than those of her opponent, but
she had more of them, and, in addition, possessed the advantage of
speed, being capable of answering her helm twice as quickly as the
privateer. This enabled her to swing round at all angles, catch the
_Hawk_ broadside-on and sweep her decks fore and aft. Notwithstanding
this, she by no means had it all her own way, for the privateer kept up
a steady, well-trained fire that made things aboard her adversary more
than lively.
As only those men who served the guns were allowed on deck, the
casualties were relatively small on the _Hawk_. Whenever a man fell, his
place was taken by another from the reserve men in the foc'sle and thus
unnecessary losses were avoided. A hospital of sorts had been rigged up
in the for'ad hold and here the wounded men were carried and placed on
mattresses until such time as they could be attended to.
Calamity had thrown off his jacket, and, with arms bared to the elbows,
was working the quick-firer on the bridge, three of the gun's crew
having been killed or wounded.
"Hit her amidships, in the engine-room!" he shouted to Mr. Dykes, who
had charge of the gun on the poop.
A minute or two later there was a loud explosion on the yacht, owing to
one of her guns being hit while loaded, by a shell from the _Hawk_. A
wild cheer went up from the privateers' men, and Calamity, thinking he
might board his adversary in the confusion, bellowed an order to the
quartermaster.
"Hard a starboard! Quick, damn your eyes!"
"Hard a----" the quartermaster started to echo, but before he could
finish a fragment of shell struck him, and Calamity, swinging round to
see what had happened, was bespattered with blood and brains. He sprang
to the wheel, and, pushing aside the dead body with his foot, altered
the helm. But it was too late, the other had divined his purpose and was
drawing off. Instantly the _Hawk_ started in pursuit, but, as she came
round in the yacht's wake, a ricocheting shell dropped through the
engine-room skylight and there was an explosion below which shook the
vessel from stem to stern. Volumes of hissing steam ascended through the
gratings and ventilators, while, above the roar, came the agonised
shrieks of some wretched firemen who were being scalded to death in the
stokehold.
A man, his face a wet, shapeless, raw mass of flesh, stumbled out of the
fiddley, staggered a few paces, and fell sprawling on the deck. Another
followed whose hair, still attached to the skin, was falling off in
lumps, and he, too, collapsed on the deck. At the same moment the steady
throb of the engines ceased and the _Hawk_ began to lose way. Meanwhile
the German had drawn off, and, for the time being, firing ceased on both
sides. The enemy, it would seem, was in little better condition than the
privateer, for she was steaming at a rate of certainly not more than
five knots. Calamity, watching her from the bridge, cursed aloud as he
saw his hoped-for prize slowly but surely getting away while he was
unable to prevent her or to go in pursuit.
"Send for McPhulach!" he cried; but, before anyone could obey, the
chief-engineer mounted to the bridge.
"I'm sair dootin' we'll hae to bide where we are," he remarked placidly.
"Do you mean to say the engines are wrecked?" demanded Calamity.
"I wouldna go sae far as tae say that," answered the engineer. "Ye micht
speak o' them as assorted scrap-iron."
The Captain laid a firm hand on McPhulach's arm.
"You've got to repair those engines," he said quietly.
"Eh!"
"You heard me."
"Losh presarve us, mon, the A'michty Himsel' couldna do it!"
"The Almighty's not chief engineer of the _Hawk_, so you needn't worry
about that. Get those engines going or I'll string you up at the end of
a derrick."
"Guid God, are ye mad, mon!" gasped the engineer.
"Mad or sane, I'll do what I say."
"I tell ye the engine-room's like a steam-laundry," wailed McPhulach.
"There isna a pipe that isna squairting steam out of some crack or itha,
and it'll take all the cotton-waste in the ship to bind up the leaks.
It's a plumber's job, no' an engineer's."
"Well, if you can't do your job, I'll undertake to do mine," said the
Captain grimly.
McPhulach emitted a groan, then took from his pocket a short and very
rank briar pipe. A look of phlegmatic resignation had come over his
face.
"Maybe ye're richt, skipper," he said. "Hae ye got sic a thing as a plug
o' tobaccy on ye'r pairson?"
Calamity handed him a pouch of tobacco. McPhulach filled his pipe, and,
remarking that he might run short, also put some tobacco loose in his
pocket.
"Gin ye hae a match, I'll go below and see what can be done," he said.
The Captain produced a box of vestas. The engineer lit his pipe, and,
absent-mindedly dropping the matches into his own pocket, left the
bridge.
The mate, meanwhile, had been superintending the removal of the wounded
and the washing down of the decks. Three men had been killed, not
including two firemen scalded to death in the stokehold, and the wounded
numbered eleven. The latter were made as comfortable as possible in the
hold and the former were carried into the wheel-house pending burial.
Gradually the commerce-destroyer became smaller and smaller, until, by
evening, all that was visible of her was a feathery smoke-trail on the
horizon.
Soon after eight bells that night, McPhulach succeeded in performing a
miracle--the _Hawk's_ engines began to move.