A Sub. of the R.N.R.: A Story of the Great War

  CHAPTER XII.

  MINED.

  TWELVE hours later H.M.S. "Strongbow" was on her appointed station.It was night. The wind had moderated considerably, yet there wasquite a heavy sea running. The young moon peeped between dark massesof drifting scud, while to windward a bank of irregularly definedclouds fringed with ragged tails betokened a repetition of theunpleasant climatic conditions.

  It was Sub-Lieutenant Aubyn's "watch below." Seated in the plainlyfurnished gun-room, the scuttles of which were carefully screened,were most of the junior officers who were off duty.

  Some were playing cards, others were reading, in spite of the raucousragtime melodies ground out by a gramaphone that had already sufferedconsiderably from the effects of two months' buffeting. In the pauseswhile the junior midshipman rewound the instrument of mental torture,the slap of the waves against the vessel's side could be distinctlyheard.

  "In for another dirty night," remarked Raeburn inconsequently.

  The announcement was received in chilly silence. "Dirty nights" weretoo frequent and too monotonous to form the subject of conversation.

  The assistant engineer tried another tack.

  "What do you make of the latest report from the Russian frontier?" heasked.

  "Oh, dry up, old man!" expostulated O'Reilly feebly. "What with yourcackle and young Jones grinding away at that blessedgramaphone--Jones, if you put on another record I'll throw this bookat your head! There's no peace in the gun-room."

  Aubyn smiled grimly. He realized that in the monotonous round ofroutine his comrades were almost bored to death by their own company.Even the versatile O'Reilly was becoming as surly as a bear with asore head.

  "Keep your wool on, old man!" exclaimed Raeburn. "Strikes me, we allwant shaking up----"

  Before he could complete the sentence the ship seemed to leapvertically out of the water. A deafening crash followed. The gun-roomfurniture was thrown in all directions, the occupants were eitherhurled against the bulkhead or pitched violently on top of theoverturned gear, while the failure of the electric light left theplace in utter darkness.

  Terence found himself lying across the remains of the gramaphone,with someone's heel beating a tattoo on the small of his back.

  For some seconds he remained where he was, his senses dulled by thesudden shock. Then it occurred to him that the ship was not so livelyas usual. Her movements seemed decidedly sluggish. A confused roar,the sound of many feet hurrying, mingled with the hiss of escapingsteam, recalled him to his senses. Either the "Strongbow" had strucka mine or had been torpedoed. Above the tumult came the sound of thebugle, the notes quavering to such an extent that the sub. hardlyrecognized their significance.

  "That's 'General Quarters'," he exclaimed, and freeing himself fromthe persistent attentions of the unknown's heels, he sprang to hisfeet and struck a match.

  By its feeble glimmer he could form some idea of the chaotic aspectof the gun-room. Many of his comrades had regained their feet, and intheir eagerness to obey the bugle-call were groping blindly for thedoor. The concussion had jammed it badly. Two of the officers werestill prone amid the débris--stunned by the shock.

  The match flickered and died out, but before Aubyn could strikeanother, one of the midshipmen thrust a hastily rolled newspaper intothe remains of the fire on the stove and held it like a torch.

  A combined effort on the part of O'Reilly and two of the midshipmenburst the door from its hinges. Aubyn, assisted by Raeburn, liftedone of the unconscious men and bore him on deck. Others performed alike office for the second victim, while the rest filed up thecompanion.

  By this time the short burst of uproar had entirely ceased. Officersand men were quietly falling in on the upper deck, awaiting thecaptain's orders.

  Silhouetted against the fitful moonlight could be discerned the cooland resolute form of Captain Ripponden as he grasped the bridge-railsand looked down upon the orderly mass of humanity. In that moment ofperil he was proud of his crew. They were worthy of upholding thetraditions of gallant British seamen. To what extent the "Strongbow"was damaged he knew not. He was awaiting the carpenter's and theboatswain's report.

  As he waited, with a true seaman's instinct, he glanced to windward.The approaching storm was not far off. Should it be necessary to taketo the boats the chances of being saved were very remote. Nor didthere seem any possibility of rescue from any other ship, for theexplosion had dislocated the wireless apparatus. The only chances inthat direction were that a passing vessel might detect the wail ofthe syren--as it sent forth its call for assistance in the long andshort blasts that corresponded to the dot and dash of the MorseCode--or might sight the coloured star rockets that were being firedfrom the bridge.

  Captain Ripponden deliberately delayed giving the order to take tothe boats. Although the "Strongbow" was sorely hit she showed noimmediate inclination to make her final plunge. The engine-room andstokeholds were clear, and the engine-room staff still remained attheir posts below the water-line; nevertheless, the ship was makingwater freely and was already considerably down by the head.

  Suddenly a short thick-set figure ran aft between the double line ofseamen drawn up as calmly and as steadily as if mustered forDivisions. Terence could hear the man's laboured breathing as hehurried. It was the ship's carpenter, on the strength of whose reportCaptain Ripponden's orders for immediate action would be delivered.

  Up the bridge ladder the warrant officer made his way, then drawinghimself erect saluted his superior--a courtesy that the captainpunctiliously returned. Even in the presence of fearful and imminentperil the regulation regarding the paying of proper compliments inthe matter of saluting were carried out to the letter.

  The eyes of every man on deck were directed upon the silhouettedfigures of the captain and the carpenter on the bridge. CaptainRipponden's head was observed to nod slightly several times as helistened to his subordinate's report; then he stepped to theafter-bridge rails.

  "My men," he shouted in stentorian tones that were clearly audibleamid the moaning of the wind and the hiss of escaping steam, "we'llsave the old ship yet. Twenty men to assist carpenter's crew. Therest remain aft and stand easy."

  Away doubled the working party, their task being to build a temporarycoffer-dam in the after side of the for'ard transverse bulkhead. The"Strongbow" had bumped upon a drifting mine, the explosion of which,occurring right under the bows and close to the water-line, hadflooded the bow compartments. The watertight bulkhead was dangerouslystrained. Water was entering in small jets under the terrificpressure in the flooded compartments; but although the pumps werequite capable of keeping the leak under control, the bulkhead, unlessshored up, was in momentary danger of giving way.

  Feverishly the carpenter and his men tackled the hazardous task.Bolts of canvas, rolled hammocks and tarpaulins were piled againstthe bulging steel bulkhead, and held in position by baulks of timber,braced and chocked till the coffer-dam was as strong and firmly setas human ingenuity could devise.

  Meanwhile, the rest of the crew were allowed to smoke--a concessionthat was eagerly welcomed, and the quarter-deck glowered with thedull glare of lighted cigarettes and pipes. Those men who had turnedup without adequate clothing were ordered to find additional garmentsto protect them from the numbing cold, while the cooks were told offto the galleys to make hot cocoa. Even in the midst of peril CaptainRipponden's thoughts were for the comfort of his devoted men.

  As soon as the carpenter reported that in his opinion the strainedbulkhead was properly shored up, orders were given to the engine-roomfor half-speed astern and a course shaped for Aberdeen. To drive theship ahead with her bows seriously damaged would be placing atremendous strain upon the coffer-dam, while when making sternway thepressure would be considerably reduced.

  "Let's hope we don't hit another of those infernal mines," remarkedO'Reilly to Aubyn, as the two officers made their way below. "Idon't think we are in a regular minefield. The one we struck wasevidently a derelict."

  "Evidently," agr
eed Terence. "Judging by the damage done it musthave deteriorated, otherwise it would have sent us to the bottom likea stone. I suppose it will mean turning over to another ship?

  "Six weeks, patching the old 'Saraband' up," declared O'Reilly, whoalmost invariably referred to the ship by her former name. "I wishto goodness they'd appoint us to a cruiser or a destroyer and give usa chance of seeing some fun."

  "We have had a fair share."

  "Yes, of hard work--which I don't mind--and getting bashed aboutwithout being able to strike a blow in self-defence. Of course, it'sthe call of duty----"

  A muffled thud, coming from almost immediately below their feet andfollowed by the unmistakable sound of rushing water, interrupted theyoung officer's conversation.

  They looked at each other for one brief instant, hardly able tocomprehend the nature of the latest calamity.

  "Bulkhead started," announced Aubyn laconically.

  Snatching an oil lamp from its bracket Terence rushed below, followedby O'Reilly. Guided by the feeble illumination, for the electriclighting installation was hopelessly out of order, the two officersmade their way down several short ladders. On the orlop-deck theyalmost collided with Raeburn.

  "After magazine flooded," announced the assistant engineerbreathlessly. "Huge rush of water. I was just off to get extrahands, but you'll do. Be quick, there's no time to lose. The water'spouring in like a sluice."

  Knee deep in water the three officers made their way aft till theirarrival at the door of the magazine. The sentry was fumbling with thelock, while two artificers, one holding a lantern, were impatientlyurging him to make a job of it and open the door. The whole of themagazine was full of water, while the pressure had forced a part ofthe bulkhead containing the compartment.

  When the "Strongbow" struck the mine the concussion had caused ahitherto undiscovered leak aft, the flow being concealed by thelocked door of the magazine until the pressure had become sufficientto burst the thin steel walls. Being specially constructed forflooding in case of emergency, the floor of the magazine was somefeet below the level of the orlop-deck.

  "We'll have to tackle the leak inside," announced Terence. "Here,one of you," he added addressing the men waiting by the door. "Cutup and inform the carpenter. Look alive."

  At length the marine sentry succeeded in shooting back the strainedlock. The officers hurled themselves against the door. It openedinwards, at the same time releasing an additional flood of water,that surged violently along the orlop-deck.

  At every heave of the ship frothing billows careered up and down thelength of the confined space, wellnigh sweeping the little group ofofficers and men from their feet. Already, taking into account thestate of the flooded fore compartments, the volume of water admittedinto the ship was causing her to move sluggishly. The danger offoundering was still imminent.

  Holding his breath and setting his jaw tightly, Aubyn literally leaptdown to the floor of the magazine. The mean level of the water was upto his neck. Momentarily it would subside, then rise till it floatedhim off his feet, yet gamely he struggled onwards, partly swimming,partly wading.

  The "Strongbow" was built on the "single-skin" principle. Only athin steel shell, riveted to curved ribs of the same metal, formedher hull. The after magazine was on the port side, at approximatelythe spot where the "run aft" of her lines began. It was here, asTerence suspected, that one of the seams had gaped open.

  Filling his lungs to their utmost capacity with the none toowholesome air, the sub. dived. His fingers, already numbed by theicy-cold water, came in contact with a gap through which a steadytorrent was pressing. His surmise was correct: several of the rivetshad been fractured, and between the lap of two adjoining plates aserious leak had developed.

  Whipping off his scarf Aubyn attempted to thrust it into the gap. Therush of water swept it away. Off came his pilot coat. Thrice heessayed to hold it in position, but his body being practicallywater-borne he could exert little or no force. He felt still more thenumbing effect of the sea. In the semi-darkness, for he had only thereflected light from the lanterns, the horror of the position grippedhim.

  "If she goes, I'm done for," he thought, for in his feveredimagination he fancied that the ship was already on the point ofmaking a final plunge. He felt tempted to desist from his efforts andmake a rush for safety. Then, as quickly as it had come, the wave ofpanic left him.

  "Got a hand-spike there?" he asked.

  "Ay, ay, sir," replied one of the carpenter's crew who had justarrived on the scene. "And some stoppers as well."

  Two of the men plunged into the flooded magazine. The hand-spike wasapplied to the temporary plug until it was forced into the gap.

  "That'll hold, sir," announced one of the men confidently.

  "Let's hope so," replied the sub. Then to himself he muttered, "Andmy very best pilot coat."

  For another ten minutes Aubyn stood and shivered, till one of the menfelt the sub.'s numbed hand shaking as he assisted to hold thehand-spike.

  "Leak's well under control, sir, I think," continued the seaman, aburly Devonshire man. "Might I make so bold, sir, as to suggest thatyou stand easy? We'll see to this all right."

  The man spoke truly. All the available pumps working continuouslywere sufficient to keep the remaining inrush of water well undercontrol. Already the orlop-deck was practically cleared. In themagazine the water was just above the sub.'s waist.

  Aubyn did not reply. He was incapable of speech. In the semi-gloomthe Devonshire man saw that something was amiss.

  "Do'ee take hold of this a minute, Joe," he said to his comrade, ashe relaxed his hold on the hand-spike. "Now, sir, out you do come."

  With that he literally carried the numbed form of his superiorofficer out of the partly flooded magazine, just as others of hismates were preparing to complete the task which Aubyn hadsuccessfully begun.

  Of what happened during the next few hours Terence had but a hazyidea. He was dimly conscious of being placed into a hot bath, wrappedup in blankets, and being put into his bunk. There, as far as hepersonally was concerned, scarce troubling whether the ship went downor otherwise, he fell into the deep sleep of utter exhaustion till hewas aroused by the officers' call followed by the shrill notes of thebo's'un's mates' whistles.