CHAPTER X--Battered but Unconquered
Almost as in a dream Sefton realized that he was still alive. Hishearing was practically done for, owing to the terrific detonation ofthe guns. His eyes were red and smarting from the effects of numerousparticles of soot and dust that had drifted in through the sightingapertures of the fire-control station. He could scarcely speak, histhroat was parched and gripped by a terrible thirst. His borroweduniform was rent in several places, while the right leg of his trouserswas warm and moist. Unknown to him, a splinter of metal had cut a cleangash just above the knee. In the excitement of the action he had notfelt the wound. Now it was beginning to throb painfully.
"The stick will go by the board before long," remarked an officer, asthe crippled foremast gave a sickening jerk with the roll of the ship tostarboard. "The sooner we get out of this the better, I fancy."
It was easier said than done. Even if the attention of the men ondeck--and they were busily engaged with hoses in quelling the numeroussmall outbreaks of fire amidships--could be attracted, it was wellnighimpossible to form a means of communication with the elevated mastheadplatform.
"Worth risking it?" queried Sefton's chum, indicating the solitaryshroud on either side of the mast.
The sub shook his head.
"A tall order," he replied. "I don't seem to have the strength of asteerage rat for a swarm-down from this height. No thanks, I'm nottaking any."
"If we had only a coil of signal halyard," remarked the range-findingofficer tentatively, "we might---- But there isn't a couple of fathomsof line left aloft."
He thrust his head and shoulders through a hole in the steel plating,and surveyed the scene 100 feet below. Viewed from that dizzy height,the prospect of descending by means of a wire stay was not inviting.
"Hallo!" he exclaimed. "There's a bluejacket swarming aloft."
"Bluejacket" was hardly a strictly correct description, for climbinghand over hand was a man clad only in a pair of canvas trousers. Fromhis waist upwards he was stripped. His feet, too, were bare. Hisbronzed face, neck, and hands stood out in vivid contrast to thewhiteness of the rest of the skin. His muscles, like whipcord, rippledas he ascended with a steady, even movement towards the isolatedforetop. From his belt trailed a line the coils of which were beingcarefully "paid out" by a seaman standing on the extremity of thebadly-damaged fore-bridge.
Half-way up the shroud the climber paused to regain his breath. As hethrew back his head to gauge the remaining distance, his face wasrevealed to the group on the swaying platform.
"By George!" ejaculated Sefton's chum. "It's the man you went into theditch after."
It was Able Seaman Brown. Having lost touch with his officer during theengagement, his first thoughts after the _Warrior_ had ceased fire werefor the sub who had risked his life on his behalf. Enquiries elicitedthe information that Sefton had been last seen while ascending to thefire-control platform.
"Blow me if they ain't properly cut off," muttered the man, as he eyedthe precarious perch. "Here goes."
Obtaining the consent of one of the officers to attempt his perilousascent, A.B. Brown was now well on his way to establish communicationwith the deck.
Perspiring from every pore, his muscles creaking under the strain, thehorny palms of his hands lacerated by the frayed strands of the wire,the seaman at length gained one of the angle-girders upon which theplatform was bolted. Here he remained for fully five minutes beforeessaying the last part of his journey.
Hanging from the metal structure was a block, from which therunning-gear had long since "rendered through". The man examined itcritically. To all outward appearance it seemed to be sound.
Jockeying himself along the sharp-edged angle-plate, Brown rove the endof the rope through the block, and "paid out" until the line touched thedeck. Fortunately there was enough to spare. Three or four of the_Warrior's_ crew were standing by to give assistance, and quickly bent a"bos'n's chair" to one end of the rope.
"Come along, sir," exclaimed the A.B. encouragingly. "We'll have the lotof you down in a jiffy."
He held out his hand to steady Sefton on his dizzy journey along themetal "bracket", until a sudden thought flashed across his mind. Whatif the rope carried away or the pulley-block was defective?
"Hold on, sir," he said. "I'll show you the way down."
He signalled for the bos'n's chair to be sent aloft, reflecting that ifthe appliance were strong enough to bear his weight--he could giveSefton nearly a couple of stones--the sub would run very little risk.If, on the other hand, the gear carried away, he reflected grimly, his"number would be up".
Sliding into the wooden seat, the A.B. motioned to his comrades tolower. Handsomely the men paid out the comparatively frail rope untilBrown's bare feet came in contact with the bridge planking.
Five minutes later, the three seamen who had been attending to thevoice-tubes in the fire-control station were lowered into safety, inspite of the fact that one was in a semi-conscious condition owing to ashrapnel wound in his head.
Sefton was the next to descend, after a spirited argument with hisbrother sub on the etiquette of seniority, until the lieutenant settledhis subordinate's dispute by declaring that Sefton was a guest, and thatthe question of precedence did not hold good in present circumstances.
At length all the occupants of the fire-control platform were lowered insafety. Barely had the lieutenant gained the deck when Sefton'scompanion gave vent to an exclamation of annoyance.
"Dash it all!" he exclaimed. "I clean forgot all about that camera.Here goes."
Slipping into the bos'n's chair he made the men haul away for all theywere worth, and, spinning round at the end of the rope, the _Warrior's_sub again ascended to the dizzy, insecure perch.
Sefton watched him disappear into the recesses of the enclosed space,presently to reappear with the precious camera dangling round his neck.
"Wouldn't have lost it for anything," remarked the young officer as heregained the fore-bridge. "I've knocked about with it ever since I wasat Osborne, you know."
"Take anything during the action?" enquired Sefton.
"By Jove, no, I didn't! Clean forgot all about it."
"And I fancy, old bird, you won't again," interposed an assistantpaymaster, vainly attempting to "open out" the folding camera. "It'sdone for."
Which was only too true. A fragment of shell had penetrated the case,reducing the delicate mechanism to a complete wreck.
"Look out! Stand clear!" shouted a dozen voices.
With a rending crash the crippled mast buckled up and disappeared overthe side.
Sefton glanced at his chum. The imperturbable sub shrugged hisshoulders.
"Better to be born lucky than rich, old man," he remarked. "But, byheavens, what a jamboree!"
He could find no other words to describe the scene of destruction. Nowthat the ship was out of action, and the excitement of the titanicstruggle was over, the grim realization of what a naval engagement meanswas beginning to reveal itself to the survivors of the gallant crew.
All the fires had been extinguished, with the exception of the bigoutbreak aft. Gangs of men toiled desperately at the hand-pumps with adouble purpose. The _Warrior_ was making water freely. Already herstokeholds and engine-rooms were flooded. Deprived of the aid of herpowerful steam bilge-pumps it seemed doubtful if the hand applianceswould be able to cope with the steady inrush. Moreover, a considerablevolume of water had to be directed upon the fire.
Officers with blackened faces and scorched uniforms encouraged the menby word and deed. At whatever cost the _Warrior_ had to be saved fromfoundering if human efforts were capable of such a herculean task.Undaunted, the crew toiled manfully, fighting fire and water at one andthe same time.
Already the dead had been identified and given a hasty, yet impressive,burial, while--an ominous sign--the wounded had been brought up frombelow and laid in rows upon the upper deck. It was a necessaryprecaution, and clearly indicated t
he grave possibility of the old_Warrior_ being unable to battle much longer against the ever-increasingleaks.
There was now plenty of work for Sefton to do. Placed in charge of oneof the fire-parties he was soon strenuously engaged in fighting theconflagration. With the flooding of the after magazine all danger of anexplosion was now at an end, but, unless the flames were speedilyquelled, the possibility of foundering would be materially increased,since several shell-holes betwixt wind and water had occurred in thatpart of the ship still dominated by the outbreak.
Although no doubt existed in the minds of the _Warrior's_ crew as to theoutcome of the general engagement, they were in suspense owing to atotal lack of news. Without wireless they were debarred fromcommunication with the rest of the squadron. As helpless as a log, thebattered vessel was floating in the vast expanse of the North Seawithout a single vessel in sight. The roar of the battle had rolled onfar to the nor'ard, and although the incessant rumble of the terrificcannonade was distinctly audible, the _Warrior_ was as ignorant of thecourse of events as if she had been a hundred miles away.
The almost flat calm had given place to sullen undulations rippled by asteady breeze that threatened before long to develop into a hard blow.There was every indication of an angry sea before nightfall.
An hour had elapsed since the _Warrior_ had ceased firing--sixty minutesof strenuous exertion on the part of all hands--when a vessel wassighted apparently steaming in the crippled cruiser's direction.
For some moments suspense ran high, for whether the strange craft werefriend or foe no one on board could give a definite decision.
"What do you make of her?" enquired Sefton's chum as the two youngofficers stood under the lee of a partly demolished gun-turret.
"Precious little," replied Sefton. "Can't say that I am able torecognize her. But in these times, with a new vessel being added to thenavy every day, one can hardly be expected to tell every ship by the cutof her jib."
"She might be a Hun," said the _Warrior's_ sub. "One that has got out ofher bearings and is just sniffing round to see what damage she can do.Hallo! There's 'Action Stations'."
The _Warrior_ was taking no unnecessary risks. She was still in aposition to bite, although at a terrible disadvantage if opposed to anactive and mobile foe. Gamely her war-worn men doubled off to the lightquick-firers, three rousing cheers announcing the fact that, althoughbadly battered, the gallant British seamen knew not the meaning of theword surrender.
Nearer and nearer came the mysterious vessel. She was by no means movingat the rate of a light-cruiser, her speed being about 15 knots. Sheflew three ensigns on various parts of her rigging, but, being end onand against the wind, the colours could not be distinguished.
Presently she ported helm slightly. Another roar of cheering burst fromthe throats of the _Warrior's_ men, for now the colours werediscernible. They were not the Black Cross of Germany--a counterfeitpresentment of the White Ensign--but the genuine article--the Britishnaval ensign.
Simultaneously a hoist of bunting ascended to the signal yard-arm. Ahundred men could read the letters, but the jumble conveyed nothing tothem. Not until the code-book was consulted could the vessel's identitybe made known.
"_Engadine_, sir," replied the chief yeoman of signals. "Sea-planecarrier, that's what she is," he confided in an undertone to anotherpetty officer standing by his side.
A lengthy exchange of semaphore by means of hand-flags ensued, for othermethods of communication on the part of the _Warrior_ were impossible,owing to the clean sweep of everything on deck.
And now, in the rapidly rising sea, preparations were made for takingthe crippled _Warrior_ in tow. Already the cruiser's stern was welldown, and, badly waterlogged, she would prove a handful for apowerfully-engined craft to tow, let alone the lightly-built _Engadine_.
But Lieutenant-Commander C. A. Robinson of the sea-plane ship _Engadine_knew his business, and handled his vessel with superb skill. Thrice hemanoeuvred sufficiently close to establish communication between hisship and the drifting _Warrior_, Twice the flexible wire hawser partedlike pack-thread. At the third attempt the hawsers held, and the_Warrior_ slowly gathered way, wallowing astern of the _Engadine_ at arate of 4 knots--but every minute was taking the unvanquished cruisernearer Britain's shores.
By this time all on board knew that their sacrifice had not been invain. Jellicoe was known to have effected a junction with Beatty'shard-pressed squadrons, the German High Seas Fleet was in flight, andbetwixt them and their North Sea bases was the invincible Grand Fleet."The Day" had proved to be a day of reckoning for the boastful Huns intheir efforts to wrest the trident from Britannia's grasp.