CHAPTER XVIII.
DERELICTS.
THE reason for this order was obvious to the officers of the"Livingstone." The "Lion" had been disabled: whether by torpedo (forseveral of the enemy submarines had been sighted) or by shell-firethey knew not. But she was sufficiently mauled for it to be necessaryfor Admiral Beatty to shift his Flag, first to thetorpedo-boat-destroyer "Attack" and afterwards to the "Tiger" as shewas returning from the sinking of the "Bluecher."
With her engines out of order, and very much down by the head thecrippled "Lion" shaped a course to the north-west, making for theFirth of Forth. Finding that the damage to the machinery grew worse,the badly hit battle-cruiser had to appeal for assistance, and wastaken in tow by the "Indomitable." Speed was now out of the question,while there was great risk of both battle-cruisers falling victims tothe lurking German submarines. Accordingly one flotilla of destroyerswas detailed to escort the "Indomitable" and her tow, another wasordered to reconnoitre to the north-east and check any attempt on thepart of hostile light-cruisers and torpedo-boats from menacing thecrippled "Lion."
The "Livingstone" was one of the flotilla told off for the latterservice. Hers was a hazardous undertaking, for ahead lay the almostimpregnable island of Heligoland, on her starboard hand was theGerman torpedo-boat station of Borkum, while it was known that anill-defined mine-field was somewhere in this part of the North Sea.Presumably the "Derfflinger" and her consorts, when they made asomewhat abrupt change of course while screened by the smoke of thedestroyers, had put the mine-field between them and the British. Thesupposition was mainly responsible for the breaking off of the actionand for the escape of the German battle-cruisers.
In line abreast the various units of the British destroyer flotillapursued their course, an interval of nearly a mile separating eachboat. At two p.m. they were within sight of the rocky plateau ofHeligoland, yet no hostile craft hove in sight. The Zeppelin whichhad frustrated the humane intentions of the British tars when the"Bluecher" sank, was just visible as it made for its lair. Away tothe eastward, where a mist was lying over the Frisian Islands, thethick clouds of smoke from the fugitive battle-cruisers was rapidlymerging into the bank of fog.
"May as well get something to eat, Aubyn," remarked LieutenantGilroy. "Nothing like taking advantage of a lull in the performance."
Terence willingly acquiesced. Now that the excitement of theengagement was past he was beginning to feel peckish so the twoofficers went below.
"Not a bad day's work," remarked the sub., as he attacked a tin ofbiscuits and a cup of chocolate.
"H'm, no," replied Gilroy. "We ought to have bagged the lot, and weshould had it not been for the 'Lion' being crocked."
"I expect the Press will make a song about our not having done so,"remarked Aubyn. "It's easy for the arm-chair critics to expoundtheories of what ought to be done."
"Let 'em," declared Gilroy grimly. "If I had my will I'd ship a fewof these professional advisers--people who are ever ready to telltheir mother's mother how to extract the contents of a bird inembryo--and let them see what's going on. I'll bet they'd changetheir tune and not ask what the Navy is doing. It's impossible to raminto their thick heads that sometimes it pays to sacrifice a smallcraft in order to enable a battle-cruiser to get a sniff in. That'swhat we are doing now."
Aubyn looked at his companion in surprise.
"Fact," continued Gilroy. "We have information that a German flotillaof light-cruisers and destroyers is out: independently of the crowdwe sent home as fast as their engines could take them. What we haveto do is to get in touch with them, lure them on, and let ourlight-cruisers come up and bag the lot. If the German boats won'tcome out--and they are vastly superior in number to our lot--thereare two conclusions. Either they fear a trap, or else they cannotnegotiate their own mine-field. If they do pluck up courage and comefor us, we've got to make a running fight for it, and at the sametime watch these fellows' course."
"So, apart from screening the 'Lion' we have to discover the passagethrough the enemy's mine-field?"
"Exactly," answered Gilroy. "The information is most necessary,although I cannot at present say to what use it will be put. Hullo!there's the 'Action.'"
Both officers tore up the narrow companion to find that the periscopeof a submarine had been sighted on the port-bow. Evidently theskipper of the "unterseeboot" had a great respect for the rammingpowers of British destroyers; for, without attempting to discharge atorpedo, he promptly dived to such a depth that on the "Livingstone"passing just ahead of the swirl that marked the submarine'sdisappearance no tell-tale oil rose to the surface.
By this time the mist had increased; the nearmost British destroyerwas just visible. The rest were swallowed up in the bank of haze. Theflotilla had changed course and was now running S.S.W. or practicallyparallel with the chain of islands extending from the mouth of theWeser to the Dollart.
Suddenly out of the mist loomed the outlines of four greytorpedo-boats: the forerunners of the Borkum flotilla. On they cameat a good twenty-six knots, the smoke pouring from their funnels andobscuring any hostile craft that might be following in their wake.
Boat for boat the "Livingstone" and her consorts were vastly superiorto the German craft. An action would result in annihilation of theenemy unless the element of luck favoured the weaker side. But it wasnot a time for fight. The first mission of the British destroyers wasto lure their foes, especially the supporting light-cruisers, wellaway from the sand-banks and shallow mined channels protected by theheavy guns of Borkum.
Round swung the "Livingstone," heeling outwards till her rail wasalmost awash: then steadying herself on her course, steamed due west.Although the after 4-in. gun was trained on the leading German boat,no order was given to fire. Shells began to hurtle past, as theforemost enemy vessel attempted to wing her foe. It was tantalizingfor the "Livingstone" to be under fire with the knowledge that herarmament could dominate that of her enemy, but forbearance wasdesirable: it was a part of the grim game.
Suddenly a terrific glare flashed before Terence's eyes, followed byan ear-splitting report. He was dimly conscious of clapping his lefthand over his eyes and feeling blindly with his right for somesupport that was not forthcoming. His feet gave way under him, and hefell--not upon the slippery deck of the destroyer but into the sea.
It was in a sense fortunate that he fell in a huddled posture; hadhis body been rigid the shock on striking the surface from a crafttravelling at close on thirty knots might have broken his back.Winded by the blow and the sudden immersion he sank, swallowingmouthfuls of salt water as he vainly gasped for breath.
After a seemingly interminable time he knew by the light filteringthrough the water that he was rising to the surface. Up he came,spluttering and gasping. His thick clothing still retained air andafforded a certain amount of buoyancy, enough to counteract theweight of his sea-boots.
He looked in the direction of the "Livingstone." She was by this timeseveral hundred yards off and still running at a high speed. Even hadhis fall been noticed he knew that it would have been impossible forthe destroyer to stop and pick him up. It was one of the grimrealities of warfare. In the piping times of peace there would be acry of "Man overboard," a rapid working of the engine-roomtelegraph, and a prompt backing and going easy astern of the engines,while the boat was being hastily lowered to effect a rescue. But now,although the loss of a man overboard was to be deplored it was thefortune of war. Under the circumstances no captain would hazard hisship in the presence of the enemy to save life.
Terence also knew that there was no chance of rescue by the Germanboats. For one thing it was an established fact that the disciples of"kultur" had never been credited since the declaration ofhostilities with having saved a single British sailor, be he officeror man. Again, it was not to be expected that the German destroyerswould cease in their efforts to overhaul a supposedly fugitive craftto pull one of the hated English out of the sea.
At a distance of about ten yards from the swimmer the
leading Germantorpedo-boat passed. The "wash" wellnigh overwhelmed him, for bythis time his clothes were becoming saturated and his limbs numbed bythe cold. He was seen by several of the crew, most of whom regardedhim with stolid indifference, while one or two openly jeered at him.
The desire for life was strong within the young sub. He realized thathis case was hazardous in the extreme. More than likely cramp--thedreaded foe of the swimmer--would seize him; if not there would be astruggle for life until, numbed by the cold, he would sink throughsheer inability to move his limbs. Yet he meant to fight strongly forhis life.
"I must first get rid of my boots," he thought, at the same timeruefully reflecting that they were practically new, and had cost hima couple of guineas only a few days ago.
Turning on his back Terence began to fumble with his footgear. Hisfingers had little or no sense of feeling.
"All right, sir; hold up--I'm coming. You're saved," shouted a voice.
Swimming towards him and pushing a lifebuoy was Stairs, thebluejacket whose gratitude he had gained by letting him off with acaution instead of putting him in the captain's defaulter's book. Thedevoted man, seeing Terence blown over the side by the explosion of ahostile shell, had without hesitation seized a lifebuoy and hadplunged into the sea with the laudable intention of either saving hisofficer or sharing his fate. Swift though he was in making up hismind, the "Livingstone" had put a hundred yards or so between her andTerence ere the man took the fateful leap.
Swimming strongly, and pushing the buoy before him he took nearlyfive minutes in getting within easy hailing distance of his superiorofficer. Even in that moment of peril, when he realized that thechances of the pair of them were most remote, Stairs was governed bythe regulations.
"'... approach the drowning person, assure him with a loud and firmvoice that he is safe,'" he repeated to himself. "It's a blessed lie,but regulations is regulations, so 'ere goes. All right, sir; I'mcoming. You're saved."
Had Stairs continued to act strictly in the spirit of thebefore-mentioned regulations, he would have proceeded to "take fasthold of the hair of his head, turn him, as quickly as possible on hisback, give him a sudden pull and this will cause him to float." Butfortunately the seaman, having committed one absurdity, wiselyrefrained from doing another. Seeing that Terence was afloat, hecontented himself with pushing the lifebuoy into his grasp.
"What on earth possessed you to jump overboard?" asked Aubyn.
"Never you mind, sir, beggin' your pardon," replied Stairs. "Keepyour precious breath, sir you'll be wanting it afore long."
The advice was sound, for by this time two more destroyers hadpassed, one on either side of the submerged men, and the turmoil ofthe water as they tore past had the effect of stopping any attempt atconversation. Well it was that Aubyn had hold of the lifebuoy,otherwise the buffeting of the waves would have sent himunder--perhaps for the last time.
Just then a large object shot up from under the water about fiftyfeet from the two men. It was part of a British whaler, possiblyabandoned previous to going into action, or it may have floated fromone of the torpedo-cruisers during the earlier stages of the war.
The third German destroyer had cut through and had passed completelyover it. The greater part of the stern sheets had been torn off, butthere was a considerable amount of buoyancy by reason of the copperair-tanks, some of which were yet intact.
"Good business, sir!" exclaimed Stairs. "See yon wreckage? Strikeout, sir; I'll give you a hand. We'll fetch it yet."
Before Terence had covered half the distance "striking out" wasbeyond him. All he could do was to support himself by allowing hisarms to hang inertly on the curve of the buoy. For propulsion he hadto rely upon the powerful and seemingly tireless efforts of hisbrawny companion.
Awaiting his opportunity Stairs scrambled through the jagged gap inthe wrecked boat, then, bringing himself against the after thwart hehauled Terence into a position of comparative safety.
Even with the weight of the two men the buoyancy of the airtighttanks was sufficient to keep the gunwale a foot above water. Withinthe wrecked boat the water was about up to the thwarts, while the seadashed continuously over the frail planking and surged violently upand down the bottom boards.
Holding Terence by the arm, for the sub. was now incapable ofstirring a finger to save himself, Stairs cautiously raised himselfand looked around. The destroyers, both British and German, were nowlost in the mists. Everywhere was an unbroken stretch of water. Thewaves, although not violent, were short and steep.
He realized that there were two great perils. The waterlogged craftmight be capsized in the trough of the waves, in which case the twomen would either be stunned by the heavy woodwork or else have tochoose between drowning or suffocation under the upturned boat. Norwas the danger of perishing from cold and exposure to be lost sightof. Drenched to the skin, without food and water, and drifting aboutin a waterlogged craft on the North Sea in mid-winter, theircondition was an unenviable one.
"Sit up, sir, and swing your arms," said Stairs, with pardonablesternness.
Terence tried to obey, but the nerveless condition of his arms,additionally handicapped by his wet clothing, resulted in a feebleeffort; but that was by no means satisfactory to his devotedcompanion.
Grasping the sub. by the elbows Stairs began to work his arms in anenergetic manner. Before long Aubyn began to feel the bloodcirculating, while the exercise also served to warm the chilled bodyof his rescuer.
"Avast there!" exclaimed the seaman, after five minutes' steadyperformance. "I'll take a spell a bit and then carry on. It's ourone chance."
Terence agreed. He, too, realized that only by exercise could theyhope to retain warmth in their bodies. Dimly he found himselfwondering was it worth while to prolong their acute physicaldistress, with no apparent chance of rescue.
For nearly an hour Stairs repeated his operations at frequentintervals, but it was evident that, robust and strongly built as hewas, even his bodily strength could not hold out much longer.
Neither man spoke during that fearful hour. More than once Terencewanted to ask the seaman why he had deliberately risked almostcertain death on his behalf. He was not conversant with thecircumstances under which Stairs had leapt from the "Livingstone's"deck, but from the fact that he arrived on the scene with a lifebuoy,the sub. concluded that it was not by accident but by design. Yet, inspite of his desire to question the man and to thank him for hisgallantry and devotion, Terence was unable to frame a sentence, soutterly acute was his distress.
From time to time Stairs would stand upright, at the imminent risk oflosing his balance and being thrown out of the water-logged boat, andscan the horizon--or rather the ill-defined blending of sea and sky.In the vain hope that the British destroyers had vanquished theirfoes and would put back to look for the missing officer, the seamankept a sharp lookout at regular intervals, but nothing save anunbroken waste of water met his gaze.
He knew also that in a water-logged craft and without means ofpropulsion, the rate of drift would be extremely slight. Hours,perhaps days, would elapse ere the wrecked boat grounded on thesand-banks fringing the German and Dutch chain of islands on the eastcoast of the North Sea.
So intent was Stairs in looking for a distant sail that he failed tonotice a pole-like object appearing above the surface at less thaneighty yards from the boat. Terence noticed it; more, he remarked aslight "wash," showing that the object had a forward as well as avertical movement.
"A periscope! he exclaimed, finding his voice in the excitement ofthe discovery.
"Where, sir?" asked Stairs, with incredulity in his tones, for heimagined that the sub. had become lightheaded in his distress. Thenfollowing the direction indicated by Aubyn's limp fingers, he added,"You're right, sir; it's a blessed submarine. I'll bet my last tannerthe brutes will poke charley at us, and sheer off. If I'd my rifle,by smoke! I'd pepper that blessed periscope."
In his indignation the seaman began to search the bottom of the boatfor a likely mi
ssile with which to vent his rage upon the modernpirates; but finding none he folded his arms and awaited events.
Like the wary water-rat that cautiously reconnoitres before it leavesits hole, the submarine surveyed the seascope. For a brief instantthe eyepiece of the periscope was turned in the direction of thewaterlogged boat, then, having slowly and deliberately swept it allround the compass, it again scrutinized the two unfortunate men.
"'She's one of ours!' exclaimed Stairs. 'Hurrah! we'resaved.'"]
The submarine was in no great hurry to rise to the surface. Hercommander had heard of decoys being employed to lure an inquisitivecraft within range of a distant quick-firer, so he used discretion.Finally, having come to the conclusion that it was safe to ascend,the submarine resumed her diagonally upward motion, and with thegreen water pouring from off the fore side of her conning-tower andsurging from her narrow deck she emerged to the light of day.
"She's one of ours!" exclaimed Stairs. "Hurrah! sir, We're saved."