CHAPTER XIII.
THE RAID ON SCARBOROUGH.
"MY watch, by Jove!" ejaculated Aubyn. "What in the name of goodnessam I doing in my bunk at this time of the morning?"
He sprang out of bed with his customary alacrity, only to find hisknees give way under him. Then it gradually dawned upon him that hislast fully conscious moments were whilst he was in the floodedmagazine.
"Steady, old man!" he muttered reproachfully. "This won't do. Pullyourself together."
He began to dress, rummaging for his clothes in one of thecharacteristically awkwardly placed drawers under his bunk. Thegarments he had worn the previous day had been taken away to bedried. Then he remembered the fate of his great-coat and wonderedwhat he should do without it when on the bridge.
He glanced through the scuttle. The sea was still running high.Flakes of snow, scudding before the wind, were falling rapidly. Bythe motion of the water as it slipped past the ship's side he knewthat the "Strongbow" was still going sternforemost.
The door of his cabin opened noiselessly, and Raeburn entered.
"Here, this won't do, old fellow!" exclaimed the assistant engineer."You toddle off back to your bunk again. Pills will be on yourcollar if you don't."
"What silly idiot made the doctor look me up?" asked Terence.
"Don't call yourself ugly names," protested Raeburn laughingly."Since you chose to have a cold bath and stay there till your nosewas as blue as a dungaree suit, and you looked liked a favourite forthe Triple Pneumonia Stakes, it isn't to be wondered at that Pillshad to have a chip in. But honestly, old man, you turn in, or it willbe a case for the sick bay. By Jove, you did a rattling pluckything!"
Terence abruptly silenced his chum.
"Rot!" he exclaimed. "I spoilt my only great-coat. If I'm to becrocked every time I do a little job like that, the sooner I chuckthe Service the better. I'm off."
Ignoring Raeburn's threats to call the surgeon, Terence hurried fromhis cabin, and having borrowed a pilot coat, donned his oilskins overthe borrowed garment and went on deck.
It was a weird sight which met his gaze.
The "Strongbow" was in the grip of a North Sea blizzard. Her taperingmasts, funnels, ventilators, even shrouds and ropes, were outlined inglistening snow. Owing to the extreme danger of men being overthrownby the slippery state of the frozen snow underfoot, men were busilyengaged in sweeping the decks--an apparently interminable task, asthe flakes fell quickly and heavily.
Unnoticed Aubyn gained the foot of the bridge-ladder. The ascentcaused him considerable effort. In spite of his natural activity theprospect of a "trick" on the exposed bridge in that awful weatherdamped his enthusiasm. Mr. Lymore was on duty. His back was turnedtowards the sub. Before Terence could report himself the door of thechart room was opened and Captain Ripponden appeared.
"Good morning, Mr. Aubyn," exclaimed the latter, returning the sub.'ssalute. "I am rather surprised to find you here."
"It's my watch, sir."
"It would have been," corrected the captain. "Dr. Terry reported youunfit for duty, and I must abide by his decision. So you will reportyourself to him."
"Very good, sir," said Terence.
"And," continued Ripponden, "allow me to congratulate you on yourplucky action. I will take the first opportunity of transmitting anaccount of it to My Lords for their information."
Aubyn grasped the captain's extended hand. Completely taken aback byhis superior's congratulations he could not frame a reply.
Again saluting, Terence turned to leave the bridge. As he did so aroar of cheering burst from those on deck. Those of the crew who hadwitnessed the meeting between Captain Ripponden and the plucky sub.had rightly interpreted the "owner's" action. There are momentswhen spontaneous enthusiasm ignores the dictates of discipline, andthis was one of them. The men of the "Strongbow" cheered their youngofficer to the echo.
Terence Aubyn met with a boisterous reception in the gun-room. Hisbrother officers "chipped" him unmercifully on the subject of thetribute of the crew. The sub. took it all in good part. He realizedthat underneath the outward mask of levity was a substratum ofgenuine admiration for his courage and judgment in tackling the leak.Even the dangers through which they had so recently passed failed tosubdue the exuberant spirits of the denizens of the gun-room, andentering into the fun, Terence soon felt so much better that Dr.Terry was obliged to confess that his fears for the sub.'s health wasno longer justified.
Before dusk the same day two tugs put out from Aberdeen and took the"Strongbow" in tow. Three hours later she was safely docked, and forthe first time for many a long day the "watch below" were able toturn in without being confronted by the possibility of sudden deathin the mine-strewn waters of the North Sea.
Examination proved that the damage done to the ship was considerable.Practically the whole of the bow portion would have to be re-built,while in many places the hull-plating would have to be re-fastenedand re-caulked. Internal damage caused by the concussion was alsogreat. By dint of working day and night the shipbuilders might beable to effect repairs in a month's time.
The next day leave was given to the starboard watch. Officers and menwere, by the special consent of the Admiralty, granted seven days'leave. Meanwhile, arrangements were being made to turn over theship's company to another vessel until repairs to the "Strongbow"were carried out.
The temporary substitute--the armed merchant-man "Vindex"--was lyingat Leith. Being of considerably lesser tonnage than the "Strongbow"there was no necessity for the whole of the latter's crew to man her.With mixed feelings Sub-Lieutenant Aubyn found that he was appointedto H.M.S. "Terrier" as supernumerary.
He was sorry to part company with his old messmates, even for acomparatively brief period. Having won praise from his captain,possessed of the friendship and esteem of his brother-officers, andwell liked by the lower deck, he felt a mental wrench at having tosay good-bye even for a few weeks.
On the other hand, his appointment to the "Terrier" was after his ownheart, for the ship was a regular unit of the British Navy. She was,it is true, an obsolete craft--a torpedo-gunboat of only 800 tons anda speed of nineteen knots.
Built more than twenty years previously, the "Terrier's" originalrôle had long since been usurped by the "destroyer" class. In lateryears she had been employed as a fishery-protection cruiser, until atthe outbreak of war she had been hastily re-fitted and commissionedas a mine-sweeper patrol-boat.
The "Terrier," undergoing engine repairs, was still detained atNewcastle, whither Terence proceeded to join her.
"I hear you've been done out of your leave," was the remark of the"Terrier's" captain, a tall, slimly built man, who looked aboutTerence's age, although he must have been some years his senior inorder to have attained the rank of lieutenant-commander. "We won't beout of dockyard hands for another week, so if you like you can goashore and report yourself on Saturday."
"Can I be spared, sir?"
"A more favourable opportunity may not occur again for some time,"replied Captain Holloway. "Lying alongside a dirty wharf with thecoal-dust flying into the officers' cabins all day doesn't make lifeaboard very attractive. I'm in shore quarters myself until we'reready to proceed to sea; so under the circumstances you will be wiseto take advantage of a few days' leave."
The sub. thanked his captain for his consideration, and having givenorders for his gear to be placed in his cabin, proceeded to pack asmall portmanteau with articles absolutely necessary for hiswell-earned holiday. While he was so doing he rapidly debated withhimself as to where he intended to go. According to the King'sRegulations he was bound to leave his address in the event of beingtelegraphed to rejoin his ship. The limited time at his disposal,coupled with the idea of the expense of a first-class railway ticketto the South of England, did not permit a visit to his mother. He hadno friends in Newcastle, and he was not at all desirous of putting upat an hotel in that city.
Then he remembered Waynsford's invitation to look him up if hehappened to be within
easy distance of Scarborough.
"Somewhat of the nature of a busman's holiday," he mused, as he wrotehis proposed address in the leave-book: "R.M.B.R. 'Lonette,'Scarborough."
Dick Waynsford, apprised by telegraph, was on the station platform togreet him.
"Glad you're come, old man," he exclaimed. "Anything to buck a fellowup?"
"Why, what's wrong now?" asked Terence.
"Nothing in particular; only I'm getting thoroughly fed up in thisplace. Nothing much to do but to run errands to the mine-sweepersthat occasionally put into the bay. A fisherman could do the jobequally as well as I can. You've been having an exciting time, Ihear?"
"Somewhat," replied Aubyn modestly. "Now, let's be making a move."
The two chums jumped into a waiting taxi, Waynsford giving thechauffeur directions to drive as straight as he jolly well knew howto Sandside, and not to take them half-way round the town to getthere.
"'Sandside'--that sounds all right," thought Terence, but hisexpectations were unrealized as the taxi drew up in the rather dingyquarter of Scarborough adjoining the harbour.
"There she is," announced Waynsford, pointing to the grey hull of the"Lonette," which, barely water-borne, was reclining against the loftywall of the harbour. "One of the best runs I ever had in her waswhen we brought her round from Yarmouth."
"Why, she's hard and fast aground."
"M'yes," agreed Waynsford unconcernedly. "She spends most of her timelike that, It's all right sleeping on board, unless she happens totake a list the wrong way. Then you've got to sort yourselves out ofa horrible muddle on the cabin floor."
"What if you're wanted?" enquired Aubyn.
"We have to jolly well wait till she floats," answered his chum, witha grin. "It's a quiet berth, and heaps better than rolling all nightin the open bay. We had one taste of it--nearly upset the whole crowdof us. Mind that ladder: it's horribly slippery."
Waynsford indicated a perpendicular iron ladder, its lowermost endhidden in black mud, over which the rising tide was slowly advancing.
Throwing his portmanteau to one of the crew, who, as the result oflong practice, deftly caught the heavy article, Terence descended thefifteen feet of ladder and stepped across the intervening spacebetween the water and the motor-boat's quarter.
"Here's your bunk," announced Waynsford, pointing to a cot swungagainst the side of the bin. "Nalder, my opposite number, sleeps onthe port bunk."
"How about you?" asked Terence.
"I'm going to turn in on the floor for the next few nights," repliedWaynsford. "I'm used to it. You see, we've another boat for actualduty purposes in fine weather. She's smaller and handier. We use'Lonette' mostly as a kind of parent ship. Now, I'll get the boy tobring the grub in. Fire away and let's have all the news."
During the rest of the day while daylight lasted Waynsford pilotedhis chum round the Queen of Watering Places, taking him up to theruined castle and introducing him to some officers of Kitchener'sArmy whose acquaintance he had recently made.
"Jolly decent place in the summer, I should imagine," declaredWaynsford, as the chums wended their way back to the harbour. "Butdeadly dull now. Not a light to be seen after dark. It makes onealmost wish that the Germans would pay the place a visit, if only tomake things a little more lively."
"Eh, what's that?" inquired Terence.
"Only wishing for the impossible, my dear fellow. Being anunfortified town Scarborough will not be favoured with the attentionsof the Teutons. Apart from that they won't risk another raid. They'retoo wary of our fleet."
It was quite late in the night before the officers of the "Lonette"turned in. The crew detailed for the duty boat had departed, their"trick" commencing at midnight. Quietude settled upon the almostlifeless harbour. Most of the fishing fleet that still remained atits usual work were out. Five or six of the boats, locked up for thenight, were moored in the inner harbour. Three more, preparing toleave at high water, were tied up to buoys at the entrance to theouter basin, their crews working silently as if infected by thesolitude that overspread the once busy port.
Suddenly Terence was awakened by finding himself slipping from hisbunk. In the darkness, for the moment, unable to recall hissurroundings, he imagined himself back in the old "Strongbow," andthat the vessel was rolling badly. But quickly he discovered that themovement was different; there was no recovery. He felt his bunk listmore and more, until vainly endeavouring to hold himself in, hesubsided upon the still soundly sleeping Waynsford.
"Confound it!" exclaimed that worthy. "She's heeled outwards. Ithought we'd taken proper precautions. Sorry to disturb you, oldman."
"It's a case of my disturbing you, I fancy," replied Terence, afterhe had extricated himself from the pile of blankets and cushions. "Idon't mind, if you don't. There goes the crockery," he added, as aseries of crashes came from the fo'c'sle.
Striking a match Waynsford lit the cabin lamp and glanced at thebulkhead clock.
"Seven, by Jove!" he exclaimed. "It's close on low water. In anothertwo hours we'll be afloat again. No use attempting to turn in.Nalder, you lazy bounder, get up and join in a hand of dummy whist."
Sub-Lieutenant Nalder, who being in the port cot had been wedgedbetween the bunk cushions and those on the side, was sleepingunconcernedly throughout the racket, as if such happenings were quitein the usual order of things. Aroused by Waynsford's voice and ahearty slap on the back, he sat up.
"Right-o," he agreed. "Jones!"
"Sir!" replied a muffled voice from the fo'c'sle.
"Bring me my pack of cards, will you?"
Terence heard the unmistakable sounds of someone trying to open ajammed door. Then, after a moment's delay the fo'c'sle sliding doorwas thrust open and the seaman thrust his dishevelled head into thecabin.
"Sorry, sir," he reported, "but the blessed condensed milk has goneand upset itself all over the pack."
"That's kippered our game," remarked Waynsford. "Let's turn out andsee what it's like. A stretch before breakfast will do us good."
Donning their great-coats, the three officers contrived, withoutmishap, to leap from the heeling side of the motor-boat to the rungsof the ladder.
"Beastly foggy morning," declared Nalder.
"Just getting light enough to see," added Waynsford, as, incontradiction to his statement, he stumbled and almost fell over amooring rope.
Gradually the gaunt outlines of the ruined castle that towered highabove the harbour began to grow distinct against the grey sky. Thefog began to disperse, although the cliffs to the southern end of thetown were still invisible.
"Let's stroll up to the castle," suggested Waynsford. "It will besomething to do."
Acting upon this proposal the two ascended the stony path. As theyapproached the coastguard station they noticed that the signalman waspeering seawards through a telescope. The man was so intent upon someobjects out to sea that he paid no attention to the new-comers.
Presently the coastguardsman put down his telescope and seized themouthpiece of a telephone in the signal hut. Terence could hear himspeaking distinctly.
"Strange vessels approaching from the nor'ard, sir," he reported tothe officer at the Naval Wireless Station behind the town. "I'vesignalled them, but they won't pay any attention."
The three subs. gazed seawards. Just visible through the haze werefour cruisers, moving sufficiently fast through the leaden-colouredwater to cause the foam to froth at their bows. Even as they lookedthe young officers were mildly surprised to see a spurt of dull redflame burst from the for'ard turret of the leading vessel.
Mild surprise gave place to complete astonishment as a heavy shellhurtled overhead, carrying away several of the telegraph wires, andplunged with a terrific detonation into the fortunately unoccupiedbarracks on the Castle Hill.
Before the noise of the falling brickwork and masonry had subsidedthe devoted coastguardsman could be heard shouting on thetelephone:--
"They're German cruisers: they're shelling us."
The man ha
d done his duty. He could do no more good remaining wherehe was. At a quick double he tore for safety, shouting to the youngofficers to get under cover.
Aubyn, with his companions, quickly took this advice to heart. He hadin the action between the "Saraband" and the "Osnabruck" stood up tothe hostile fire, but then it was a fight on even terms. Now it was aone-sided affair, and by the noise of the exploding shell Terenceknew that it was of much larger calibre than those that came from theGerman armed liner.
Scarcely had the fugitives covered a hundred yards when anotherappalling crash, followed by a distinct blast of acrid-smelling air,caused Terence to look back. A shell, better aimed than the first,had completely demolished the signal hut. This missile was followedby salvo after salvo, some forty shells of various calibre raining onthe Castle Hill. Others, striking the sheer cliffs, brought tons ofrock clattering down upon the Marine Parade, while what was farworse, many projectiles skimming the ruins of the castle, fell withdisastrous results upon the congested buildings of the town.
The three subs. were now under the lee of the frowning rock. Herethey were comparatively safe, except from stray fragments ofsplintered shell and flying masonry. The coastguardsman had gone in adifferent direction.
"The swine!" ejaculated Nalder. "They're shelling a defencelesstown. And the 'Lonette' is high and dry too."
In spite of the serious situation his comrades gave vent to a heartylaugh. It seemed so incongruous that Nalder should have taken theplight of the little motor-boat into consideration. Yet had Nalderhad his way it was quite possible that he would have blazed away witha rifle at the huge steel monsters with as much result as a small boyusing a peashooter against an elephant.
"Not a bad idea getting down to the harbour," added Waynsford."We'll be fairly sheltered, and we can see what's going on."
Terence thought otherwise. Massive stone walls afford no protectionfrom monster guns. Nevertheless he raised no objection. For onething--and here the professional sailor scored heavily over the twoamateurs--it afforded a chance of making a note of the appearance ofthe hostile vessels: information that might prove of immense serviceto the Admiralty.
Shells were raining upon the undefended town as the three reached theharbour pier. In several parts of Scarborough fires, caused by theexploding projectiles, had broken out, and dense columns of smokerose from the demolished buildings. Having, as they thought,completely demolished the supposed batteries on Castle Hill theGerman gunners were out to do as much damage to private property asthey possibly could. It was but a phase in the terrorizing operationsthat these modern barbarians delight in calling "kultur."
The attacking craft had now passed in front of the Castle Hill andwere clearly visible from the harbour, as they slowly steamed withina quarter of a mile of the shore, vomiting death and destruction uponthe hapless town.
The leading craft Terence recognized as one of the DerfflingerClass--an inferior imitation of our Dreadnought cruisers. Astern ofher came the "Bluecher," a vessel whose construction the Germanpeople hailed with acclamation as the most powerful craft afloat andone that would outclass anything that the British had or would belikely to have. Yet, ere the "Bluecher" took the water, she washopelessly outmatched by the "Indomitable" class.
For once, however, these two ships were having things all their ownway. With the exception of the fiasco at Yarmouth, over a hundredyears had elapsed since the thunder of an enemy's guns had been heardby the dwellers of our sea-girt island. British pride in theimpregnable position of our insular kingdom had received a nastyshock, for without let or hindrance German guns were pounding hershores in broad daylight.
Half a mile or so behind the battle cruisers were two light cruisers,which apparently took little part in the one-sided engagement. Theywere engaged in the pleasant occupation of mine-laying, in the hopethat one of the British squadrons, summoned by wireless, wouldflounder blindly into the dangerous zone.
"Oh, for a couple of our submarines!" groaned Terence, as the hostilecraft moved slowly along the bay. "They'd bag the whole crowd ofthem."
Twenty paces from the spot where the subs. stood was an old bronzedand bearded fisherman--a typical Yorkshire salt. Heedless of the riskhe ran, he leapt upon the stone parapet, and shaking his fist at theGerman ships rated them in the choicest language of the Shire ofBroad Acres. Nor would he descend when Aubyn pointed out the risk heran, and it was only when a shell tore a huge hole in the side of thelighthouse that the old fellow would deign to move.
For a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes the two cruisersmaintained a hot fire with their starboard guns. Then came a pause inthe hitherto ceaseless roar of the ordnance, as the ships circled toport. Retracing their course they reopened fire, till, graduallyincreasing speed, they shaped a course nor'nor'east and disappearedin the haze.
"Let's gie into town an see t' damage," suggested the old fisherman,who, like the rest of the hardy East Coast men, had little respectfor rank and persons. "Sith'a, lads, there'll be work for us overyonder," and he pointed to the maze of houses, many of which showedsigns of the effect of the high-explosive shells.
In the course of his sea-service Terence Aubyn had witnessed morethan one horrible sight; but in all his previous experience he hadnever seen anything approaching the cold-blooded butchery of merecivilians--men, women, and children--by the murderous German shells.
With the energy and coolness that is characteristic of the bornseaman he dashed into a practically gutted house, whence cries ofpain had attracted his attention.
The house was in one of the poorer districts, substantially built ofstone, as is frequently the case in the north of England. Aprojectile had struck the building just above the ground-floorwindow. The stonework had, for the most part, resisted the explosion,the force of which had resulted in floors and roofs being eitherdemolished or reduced to a state of absolute insecurity. The groundfloors were piled high with débris, under which, though partlyvisible, was the dead body of an old man.
The cries for aid, uttered in a childish voice, came from the upperstorey. Here a part of the bedroom floor had collapsed, exposing toview a wooden bedstead, so insecurely perched that it threatened atevery moment to topple over into the chaotic mass thirty feet below.The stairs had vanished, only the iron handrail and a few of itssupports remaining.
"What's the move?" demanded Waynsford, as Aubyn threw off hisgreat-coat and handed it to a boy who was watching the scene ofdesolation with marked curiosity. "Don't be a fool, man! Wait tillthey bring a ladder."
"It may be too late then," replied Terence; then turning to the oldfisherman he bade him bring a coil of rope.
"Thank goodness, there's one man who knows what he is about," thoughtAubyn, as the veteran salt hurried off. "No stopping to ask whatsize or what length."
The next instant the sub. was well on his hazardous climb. Graspingthe handrail and making fairly certain that it would bear his weight,Terence hauled himself up, using the holes in the stonework, left bythe dislodged stairs, as footholds. As sure-footed as a cat, asactive as a panther, he swung himself up, hardly pausing till hegained the uppermost landing, where a few square inches offloorboards remained. Between that and the bedstead was a gap nearlyten feet in width. A professional long-jumper might have essayed thetask with success, but in his case Terence realized that a leap wouldbe out of the question.
Rapidly the sub. reviewed the situation. From where he stood he couldsee the children distinctly. One was a girl of about nine years ofage, fair-haired and pale-faced. It was she who was screaming, morewith fright than pain, although there was a dark moist patch upon herhair. Her companion was a child of about three, lying with his headover the side of the bed to all appearances either dead or elseunconscious.
Already the joist nearest the gap in the shattered floor was bendingominously. Terence felt certain that even if he could get across theintervening space his weight would precipitate the bed and itsoccupants on to the mound of rubble and broken woodwork below.
He looked a
bove him. The laths and plaster of the ceiling hadvanished, the tiles had been blown into the street, leaving the gauntrafters practically intact. Raising his hand he found that he couldjust grasp the sloping timber.
"If it carries away, I'm done," he thought. "But it's no use hangingon here, so here goes."
With a resolute leap the sub. seized the two adjoining rafters. Therough woodwork lacerated his hands, but he heeded it not. By sheermuscular effort he raised himself sufficiently to pass his arms overthe timber, whence it was a comparatively simple matter to clamber ontop of the outside wall.
Well it was that Aubyn had a good head for heights. Looking down fromthat precarious perch would make most landsmen giddy, but as coollyas if he were walking along a street, the sub. made his way round tothe opposite side of the shattered house immediately over the stillholding floor of the bedroom.
The elder child, on seeing Terence approach, had ceased her cries andwas watching him with wide-open eyes. Then she raised herself, as ifto make a spring into his arms.
"Don't move just yet," exclaimed the sub. as calmly as he could."I'll help you both very soon."
He was desperately anxious lest the girl, by her action, would bringabout the calamity he was trying to prevent. At the same time he wasracking his brains to find out how he could get hold of the rope whenthe fisherman returned with it.
"Eh, little lass," he exclaimed, imitating to the best of his abilitythe East Riding dialect, "just you hand me up one of those sheets.Don't hurry."
The girl obeyed, wonderingly but unhesitatingly. Terence began totear the cotton sheet into thin strips, binding them into onecontinuous length, until he judged that he had sufficient to reachthe ground.
"'Don't move just yet,' said the Sub. 'I'll help youboth very soon.'"]
Hardly were his preparations completed when the fisherman returned,puffing and blowing with his exertions.
"Eh, lad, a've got 'en," he announced. "An' a block as well. Th'knows it might come in handy.
"Good man!" thought Terence. "He's solved an awkward problem." Thenaddressing the old salt: "Stand by and bend the rope on to this," heshouted, as he allowed one end of the cotton strip to flutter to theground.
Steadily the sub. began to haul in his flimsy line, while thefisherman dexterously paid out the coil of rope, the end of which hehad made to Aubyn's means of communication. Then, as soon as he sawthat Terence had secured one end of the rope, the old man hitched onthe large pulley and continued to pay out more cordage until theblock was within the sub.'s grasp.
Whipping out his knife Terence cut off about six or seven feet ofrope, using the severed portion as a strop to make fast the block toa pair of rafters. Then passing the rest of the rope through thesheave his means of effecting the rescue of the children were readyfor service.
"Stand by to lower away," he shouted, as he made a loop known as a"bowline on a bight."
"Ay, ay," replied the old salt, at the same time signing to Waynsfordand Nalder to bear a hand.
Giving a final tug at the strop to make sure as far as possible thatthe rafter would hold, Terence slid into the loop and swung himselfclear of the wall.
"Belay there," he hailed after being lowered a sufficient distance tobring himself level with the remains of the bedroom floor. "Now,little lass, I'll hold you. Don't be afraid."
The next moment the injured girl was safe in his arms. Although thebed shook as the rescued child moved, it still withstood the tendencyto slip into the abyss. Twenty seconds later Terence handed hischarge over to a doctor who formed one of the rapidly-gathering crowdin the street.
"There's another child--a baby," announced Aubyn. "Badly hurt, Ifancy so haul me up smartly."
Spinning round and round like a joint on a meat-jack the sub. againascended, till the smaller child's body was within reach of his arms.As he whipped off the covering he gave an ill-suppressed exclamationof horror. The left foot of the little victim had been torn away atthe ankle.
"Good heavens, Waynsford!" exclaimed Terence, after the child-victimshad been removed, and the justly-exasperated crowd began to disperse."I'm not a vindictive fellow, but if I had that low-down German whogave orders for this butchery, it would give me the greatest pleasurein the world to punch his head."
"You may have the chance yet," replied Waynsford. He had beenthinking deeply for the last few moments. "I'm afraid I'm on thewrong lay. Here I am, wearing His Majesty's uniform, fooling about ina rotten little motor-boat, when I ought to be taking a man's partout there," and he pointed towards the North Sea."
"You haven't done badly, when you come to think of it," remarkedTerence. "At Yarmouth, for instance."
"A beastly fluke. You, my dear fellow, had most of the game then."
"Buck up!" exclaimed Aubyn cheerily. "You may have a good sniff-inyet. If you don't, remember there's some verse about people servingwho only sit and wait. I'm not fond of poetry myself, but perhaps youmay know the line I refer to. Let's make a move. There may be morework for us amongst the ruins."
"May I coom along wi' tha', maaster?" asked the fisherman, who wascoiling away the rope that had been so instrumental. "Eh, lad,thou'rt real champion."
"By all means," replied the sub. heartily. In spite of his years theold fellow had his wits about him. If there should be any work of asimilar nature his assistance would be most valuable.
Before they had gone fifty yards the attention of Aubyn and his partywas attracted by the sudden appearance of an elderly corpulent manwhose garments consisted of a pyjama suit, over which he wore awoman's jacket with the sleeves tied round his throat, an old pair ofcarpet slippers and a felt hat. He had just emerged from a cellar,into which he had bolted during the earlier stages of thebombardment. Blinking like an owl he asked plaintively if the dangerwas at an end.
"Eh, maaster," replied the fisherman. "They kind and humane Germanssheered off half an hour agone."
"It's disgraceful!" exclaimed the dishevelled man vehemently. "Didn'tthe First Lord of the Admiralty tell us plainly, only a few monthsago, that we could sleep quietly in our beds? Weren't those his exactwords?"
"Ay," replied the old salt, with a grim twinkle in his eye. "Ay, thata' did. Th' knows the Huns gave us a look up at a time when mostfolks ought to be up an' about. Naw, get you gone, friend Thomas;thou'rt not fit to be seen in a respectable town like Scarbro'."
Terence looked inquiringly at his humble friend, as the pyjama-cladman waddled away.
"He'll be one o' those fools as oratates on t' parade on Sundaysafternoons," explained the fisherman.
"I knows him well. Always was trying to make us believe that thoseHuns were our best friends, and that there weren't no use for aBritish Navy. Th' knows t' sort. For one reason, sith'a, I'm notsorry that those Germans came to Scarbro'."