With Beatty off Jutland: A Romance of the Great Sea Fight

  CHAPTER VI--Action at the Double

  The ship upon which Sefton found himself as an unauthorizedsupernumerary was an armoured cruiser of 13,550 tons, built andcompleted at Pembroke nine years previously. She was one of a class offour that marked a new departure in naval architecture--each of her gunsbeing mounted singly and in a separate turret. At the time when she waslaid down she was considered one of the heaviest armed cruisers of herday, mounting six 9.2-inch and four 7.5-inch guns. Of these, three9.2's could be made to fire ahead, and a similar number astern, while oneither broadside she could deliver a formidable salvo from four of theguns of heavier calibre and two of the 7.5's. With the exception of thefollowing year's programme of the _Minotaur_ class, the _Warrior_ andher sister ships were the last armoured cruisers laid down by theBritish Admiralty, the all-big-gun battle-cruisers simply outclassing atone swoop the armoured cruisers of the world's navies.

  Nevertheless the _Warrior_ was still a powerful unit, and calculated tobe more than a match for any German vessel of her size. Her designedspeed of a fraction over 22 knots--a rate that when necessity arosecould be exceeded--enabled her with the rest of her class to form avaluable, hard-hitting auxiliary to the vessels of the battle-cruisersquadrons.

  While Sefton was being kitted out by an obliging brother sub-lieutenant,a wireless message had been sent to the _Calder_ announcing the safetyof her sub-lieutenant and A.B. Brown.

  Crosthwaite received the gratifying intelligence with undisguiseddelight. His feelings were shared by the whole of the ship's company,for, almost without exception, the destroyer's officers were voted a"sound lot", and the possibility of Sefton's death in a gallant attemptat the rescue of a lower-deck man had thrown a gloom over the ship.

  As for the lieutenant-commander, his relief and gratitude to Providenceknew no bounds. Between Sefton's leap overboard and the receipt of the_Warrior's_ message he had passed through a distressing time. Apartfrom his personal regard for the sub, with whom he had shared adventuresand perils in the Near East, the fact that he had been compelled toabandon Sefton to the vagaries of fate hit him hard. He was evendoubtful whether, with the possibilities of hostile submarines cruisingaround, the armoured cruisers would risk slowing down to rescue two menand at the same time present a splendid target for German torpedoes.However, the deed of rescue was accomplished, and the next step toconsider was how to get Sefton and the A.B. back on the destroyer. Theformer's presence was desirable, in fact essential.

  In answer to the _Calder's_ lieutenant-commander's request, whether itwould be possible for Sefton to be sent back to the destroyer, therescuing ship replied that, should opportunity occur, the _Calder_ couldclose, but that, in view of present conditions, such a step was mostunlikely.

  "So you'll jolly well have to make yourself at home here, old bird,"remarked one of the _Warrior's_ sub-lieutenants, who as a youngster hadpassed out of Dartmouth at the same time as Sefton. "Suppose the tripwill do you good. Sort of marine excursion out and home, don't youknow. Nothin' doin', and never a sign of a Hun, unless it be a'tin-fish' or two."

  The _Warrior's_ sub voiced the opinion of the rest of the gun-room. Hewas president of the mess and a mild autocrat over the "small fry", andgenerally voted a rattling good sort by the handful of midshipmen, manyof whom, alas! were to yield up their lives in undying fame before manyhours were past.

  Yet, although the whole of the personnel of the Grand Fleet were as keenas mustard to meet the Huns, frequent and almost unvaryingdisappointment had been their lot. Over and over again Beatty'ssquadron had swept the North Sea without coming in contact with theenemy, until it was the general conclusion that, until the High SeasFleet was actually sighted, it was of no use speculating upon thechances of the "big scrap".

  And now, on the memorable morning of Wednesday, the 31st May, the Firstand Second Battle-cruiser Squadron, three light-cruiser squadrons, withattendant destroyers, were ploughing eastward across the North Sea, withthe knowledge that the hard-hitting Battle Fleet, together with aformidable array of cruisers and destroyers, was some distance to thenor'ard, ready, at the first wireless call, to complete the toils thrownaround the German fleet should the latter, lured into a sense of falsesecurity, dare to leave the mine-fields of Heligoland.

  Shortly after noon the wind dropped and the water became almost calm,save for the undulations caused by the swiftly-moving squadron. Overheadthe sun shone faintly through a thick haze, which for hours hung aboutwith irritating persistence.

  Sefton had just commenced a game of draughts with some of the officerswho were off duty, when a messenger entered the gun-room and handed a"chit" to the senior sub. Not until the man had gone did the youngofficer break the momentous news to the others, apologizing as if theinformation might unduly raise their hopes.

  "I don't want to be too cock-sure, you fellows," he announced. "Looksas if they're out this time, but----"

  "I vote we go on deck," suggested a midshipman.

  "And see the whole of the German fleet," added a junior watchkeeperfacetiously.

  "Anyhow, there's 'General Quarters'," retorted the middy daringly as abugle rang out, the call being quickly repeated in various parts of theship, "Look alive, you fellows."

  "Stick to me, Sefton," said the senior sub, snatching his telescope froma rack and making a bolt for the door. "If there's anything to be seenof the scrap you'll have a good chance with me. I'm fire-control, don'tyou know."

  Jack Sefton nodded his head in acquiescence. He was sorry that he wasnot on board the _Calder_, since there was a greater possibility of thedestroyer flotillas dashing in to complete the work of thebattle-cruisers than of the armoured cruisers getting within range.

  Gaining the quarter-deck, the _Calder's_ sub heard the unmistakablebaritone hum of an aerial propeller. Overhead, at a low altitude ofless than a thousand feet, a sea-plane was flying in a northeasterlydirection. By the markings on her planes and fuselage--concentric red,white, and blue circles--Sefton recognized her as a British one. Itafterwards transpired that Sir David Beatty had ordered the _Engadine_to send up a sea-plane for reconnaissance work, and that wirelessreports were received from the daring airmen that they had sighted fourhostile light cruisers. The latter opened a hot fire with everyquick-firer they could get to bear upon the indomitable sea-plane, therange being less than 3000 yards, but in spite of the hail of shrapnelthe airmen gained their desired information and returned to their parentship.

  On board the _Warrior_, as was the case with the rest of her consorts,hands were hard at work clearing ship for action. Already the masts andshrouds had been "frapped", or protected, by means of wire cableswrapped round the spars and interlaced between the standing-rigging."A" and "B" water-tight doors were closed, armoured hatchways batteneddown, and hoses led along the decks in order to quell the fire thatwould inevitably break out should a hostile shell burst inside thearmoured belt. Stanchions, cowls, and all gear likely to interfere withthe training of the guns were unshipped and stowed, tons of HisMajesty's property were jettisoned, the danger of their remaining onboard being more than sufficient reason for their sacrifice.

  Inside the turrets, tubs of water were provided to slake the burningthirst of the guns' crews, for experience had proved that the acutemental and physical strain, coupled with the acrid fumes that drift intothe confined steel spaces, produces an intense dryness of the mouth andthroat. Behind the armoured protection, stretcher-bearers andfire-parties were preparing for their stern work.

  Down below, far beneath the water-line, the fleet surgeon and his staffwere getting ready for their grim yet humane tasks. Operations have tobe performed under great disadvantages, the complexity of wounds causedby modern shells adding to the difficulties under which the medicalstaff labours. Contrast an operation in a well-ordered hospital onshore--where perfect quietude reigns and everything is conducive tosuccess--with the conditions on board a war-ship in action. Theindifferent light, for the electric lamps are quivering under thevibration of the
guns; the deafening concussion overhead as the shipgives and receives punishment; the jerky motion of the vessel as shetwists and turns to the rapid movements of the helm and quivers underthe titanic blows of hostile shells; and the probability of the ship'sbottom being shattered like an egg-shell by a powerful torpedo--allthese form but a part of the disadvantages under which the naval medicalstaff labour during the progress of an action.

  Literally imprisoned below the armoured deck, the grimy stokers werepreparing for the coming ordeal. Hidden from the rest of the ship'scompany, they toiled like Trojans in order to raise such a terrific headof steam as would make the cruiser "foot it" at a speed far in excess ofher nominal 22.33 knots. In action the lot of the "black squad" isperhaps the worst on board. Knowing nothing of what is going on, theyhave to work in a confined, heated steel box, shovelling coals with adexterity that is the outcome of months of strenuous training. Besidesthe risk of torpedoes and shells there is ever the danger of the boilersgiving way under the pressure of steam, with the inevitable result--ahorrible death in a pitch-black stokehold filled with scalding steam.And yet, for easygoing joviality and good comradeship the naval stokeris hard to beat. He will face discomforts with a smiling face and acheerful heart. He will be ready to risk his life for his chum--or onthe altar of duty.

  These thoughts flashed through Sefton's mind as he watched the rapid andmethodical preparation of clearing ship for action. For once the subrealized that he was a mere spectator--a sort of pariah, dumped from acomparatively insignificant destroyer upon a cruiser mustering acomplement of over 700 officers and men. He was aware of the fact thathe was a "deadhead"--an individual having no right to take part in theforthcoming contest. The inaction seemed the worst part of the businessas far as he was concerned.

  Presently Sefton's thoughts were interrupted by the shrill,long-drawn-out trills of the bos'n's mates' pipes summoning the ship'scompany to muster on the quarter-deck. At the double the men rompedaft--every seaman, marine, stoker, and "idler" not actually prevented bypressure of duty elsewhere.

  Since the captain could not quit the fore-bridge the assembled ship'scompany was addressed by the commander. In crisp sentences of simplebrevity he explained to the men the position of affairs. At length abig action was in progress, he announced, for a wireless message hadjust come in to the effect that the battle-cruisers were alreadyengaging the enemy at 18,000 yards--a distance of nearly 11 land miles.More than that, the German Battle Squadron was coming from the nor'ard,and there was a grave possibility of the British battle-cruisers beingengaged between the enemy battleships and their battle-cruisers. Inwhich case, the commander hastened to explain, losses would doubtless besevere; but it was part of the Commander-in-Chief's plan to risk certainof his battle-cruisers in order to cut off and detain the German fleetuntil the British Main Battle Squadrons got between the enemy and theirbases.

  "I do not expect that we shall go into action just at present,"concluded the commander, "but should events shape themselves all rightwe'll be in the thick of it before long. And I have not the faintesthesitation in expressing my firm belief that every man jack of us willdo his duty to King and country, and uphold the traditions of H.M.S._Warrior_."

  With that the men were dismissed, and, all preparations having beenmade, they were at liberty until the "Action Stations" sounded. Thatinterval was perhaps the most trying of all. Many of the ship's companywere going into action for the first time. The majority were laughingand cutting jokes; some could be seen with grey, anxious faces as theythought of their dear ones at home; but amongst the whole complementthere was not the faintest trace of faint-heartedness. From the captaindown to the youngest "first-class" boy the same sentiment held sway:that the _Warrior_ would be able to acquit herself with glory and withhonour.

  Through the sultry air could be faintly heard the distant and constantrumble of heavy gun-firing. The naval action was developing, althoughthe engaged portions of the rival fleets were fifty or sixty miles away.The subdued noise made a fitting accompaniment to the stirring words ofthe commander.

  Sefton, still remaining on the quarter-deck, could not help admiring thesteadiness with which the cruisers kept station. From time to timehoists of bunting fluttered to the yard-arm of the flagship _Defence_,the orders they expressed being carried out with the utmost celerity andprecision.

  A lieutenant descending from the after-bridge passed along thequarter-deck towards the companion on the half-deck.

  "You're out of it, Sefton, I'm afraid," he remarked. "We've just hadanother wireless. Our destroyers are giving the Huns socks. The old_Calder_ is in the thick of it."

  "Any losses?" asked Sefton, feeling ready to kick himself for being outof the scrap.

  "Don't know yet," was the reply. "I only----"

  The lieutenant's words were interrupted by the blare of a bugle.Turning on his heels he rushed forward at top speed, for at last therousing order "Action at the Double" was given.

  In an instant all was a scene of "orderly confusion", each man runningwith a set purpose. For the most part the crew were stripped to thewaist--a crowd of muscular-armed, deep-chested, clean-shaven men in thevery pink of condition. Still exchanging banter, they disappeared totheir battle-stations, eager and alert to let loose a hail of shell uponthe first hostile vessel that came within range.

  "Come along, old man," exclaimed the young sub who had previously"cottoned on" to Jack Sefton. "Now's your chance if you want to see thefun."

  The two junior officers made their way for'ard, past the starboard gunsin their isolated and closely-sealed steel turrets, until they reachedthe foremast.

  "Up with you," said Sefton's companion laconically.

  Sefton agilely ascended to the dizzy perch known as the fire-controlplatform. The other sub followed quickly at his heels, squeezed throughthe narrow aperture in the floor of the enclosed space, and slammed tothe metal hinged cover.

  "At last!" he exclaimed gleefully.

  Sefton only nodded in complete accord. A clock on the after side of thesteel wall indicated 5.45. A glance to the deck a hundred feet belowshowed no sign of life. There was nothing to show that confined withinthat double-wedge-shaped hull were close upon seven hundred humanbeings, all with one set purpose, as the thirteen thousand tons ofdead-weight forged ahead at full speed towards a distant blurr justvisible through the ever-varying haze.

  Suddenly the _Defence_ opened fire with her for'ard pair of 9.2's,quickly following with her 7.5's. The ball had opened.

  "Fifteen eight hundred, sir," reported one of the range-finding officerswithin Sefton's hearing.

  Rapidly yet smoothly the _Warrior's_ bow guns rose until Sefton couldsee their muzzles showing like oval-shaped cavities against thedull-grey painted chases. For a second or two only the weapons hungseemingly irresolute.

  Then with a concussion that shook the ship the guns sent their missileshurtling through the air, while clouds of acrid-smelling smoke, black,white, and brown in hue, drifted rapidly across the deck.

  At last the _Warrior_ had her chance--and she was taking it with avengeance.