CHAPTER XXVI.
"THE PRICE OF ADMIRALTY."
WHEN Terence recovered his senses he was lying in a crofter'scottage. A white-haired venerable dame was busying herself with alarge iron pot over a peat fire, while an old fisherman, her husband,was spreading the lieutenant's clothes to dry. The reek of the peatand the vapour of the steaming garments seemed to fill the confinedspace.
Through the diamond panes of the small window Aubyn could see theheads and shoulders of several of his men. The devoted tars, havingbeen provided with dry clothes of weird fit by their poor buthospitable hosts, were mounting an impromptu guard outside thecottage in order to hear the news of their popular young officer'sreturn to consciousness.
Terence sat up. As he did so he became aware of a throbbing pain inhis left hip and leg, while he noticed that his left arm was roughlybandaged. Fearful lest his leg should be broken, he raised his knee.Although it caused him agony he realized to his intense satisfactionthat he was capable of moving it.
Hearing him move the old fisherman spoke to him, and although Terencecould not understand one word of the broad Shetland dialect thelieutenant guessed rightly that the man wanted to know whether thepatient would like to see those of his crew who were disconsolatelylingering outside in spite of the howling wind.
In trooped the seamen; seven burly and extremely diffident specimensof the Royal Naval Reserve, who, slow of speech except when amongstthemselves, could hardly find means to express their thoughts. Theydid not know whether to congratulate their temporary skipper on hisescape or to commiserate with him on his injuries.
"How is Mr. Raeburn, Griffiths?" asked Terence.
The Welsh petty-officer fidgeted with his hands, attempted to reply,but at last turned with mild entreaty to his comrades.
"Fairish, sir, only fairish," vaguely declared another. "But how'syourself, sir, if we may make so bold as to ask?"
"Stiff, bruised, but otherwise all right, I think," replied Terence."And awfully peckish. Have you men been fed?"
"Yes, sir, we were victualled down at the village," announced theman. "They did us right well. They say as how we'll have to hangabout on this island till the gale moderates; but they'vecommunicated with the authorities at Lerwick, sir, and the seniorofficer is going to send a vessel to pick us up."
Dismissing his men Terence contrived to borrow some clothes from hishumble yet kindly hosts, and making his way with considerabledifficulty to an upstairs room, proceeded to dress.
Considering the terrific buffeting he had received Aubyn had come offpretty lightly. He was black and blue from his shoulders to hisknees, his forehead was grazed through coming in contact with therock, and there was a clean cut across his cheek. Rigged out in roughill-fitting Shetland tweeds, his chin and cheeks black with a stubbleof forty-eight hours' growth, he looked anything but a spruce officerof his Majesty's Service.
His efforts to borrow a razor were fruitless. His host had nevershaved in the whole course of his existence, and he was now overeighty years of age. Nor did he know of any of his neighbours whowould be in a position to oblige his guest.
Having found out where Kenneth had been taken, Terence went to seehim. He had to traverse nearly half a mile of bleak moorland, overwhich the wind blew with great force. Shelter there was not, except afew stunted thorns and patches of gorse.
Looking seawards the vista was a turmoil of broken water, divided bythe Island of Fetlar. Close under its lee the sea was comparativelycalm, but owing to the tidal race, the "Sound" or interveningchannel seemed too violent for any craft to navigate in safety.
Cautiously the lieutenant approached the brink of the cliff andlooked down to the cauldron of foam beneath. The tide had ebbedconsiderably. Fang-like rocks showed their jagged heads above thebreakers for nearly a quarter of a mile off shore. It seemedmarvellous how the almost waterlogged "Roldal" had contrived to beswept over those dangerous rocks. In vain he looked for traces of hisfirst independent command: the ship had literally gone to pieces.
After considerable difficulty Terence succeeded in finding the littlecottage to which his chum had been taken. A big-boned, gaunt-featuredman answered his knock, and without betraying the faintest surpriseat his visitor's garb, invited him into the room. The Shetlanderasked no questions; he seemed to know Aubyn's business. Like the restof the islanders, most of whom had played a prominent part in therescue of the survivors of the "Roldal," he already know the officersand most of the men by sight.
Impressed by the gravity of the man's manner, Terence fully expectedto find his chum in a desperate plight, but to his surprise he wasgreeted by an outburst of laughter.
"Excuse me, old man," exclaimed Kenneth, "but you do look a sketch!Who's your tailor? And are you about to cultivate a torpedo beard?"
"How's that arm of yours?" asked Aubyn.
"Feels a bit rotten," admitted Kenneth, "or rather, I can't feel itat all. It seems a bit numb. But it will be all right in a day or so,I guess. It was a real plucky thing of yours, old man. Looked like acase of attempted suicide, when you cut that rope.
"I should have felt like your murderer if I hadn't," retorted Aubyn."But it's over and done with. We're lucky to get ashore. By the by,I suppose you know that they're sending a steamer from Lerwick assoon as the weather moderates?"
Terence could not talk rationally. He touched upon half a dozensubjects in as many minutes. His mind was full of sorrow for hischum's misfortune. He knew what Raeburn was yet to learn: that thelack of sensitiveness in Kenneth's arm meant that never again wouldhis chum be able to use the limb.
Raeburn's sanguineness was most pathetic. He had fully made up hismind to get to Leith and await the "Strongbow's" return. He rehearsedthe little scene he would have when Smithers restored to him hischerished pipe.
Two days later the sea moderated sufficiently for the shipwrecked mento be taken to Lerwick. Here they were split up. The Germanreservists were sent into detention quarters to await the decision ofthe War Office as to their disposal; the Norwegians, whoseindignation towards the apostles of kultur showed no signs ofabatement, were forwarded to Aberdeen, whence they were permitted toreturn to their native land, while the detachment of the 'Strongbow'were given a passage as far as Dingwall, whence they were told toproceed by train to Leith.
Kenneth Raeburn did not go with them. Upon arrival at Lerwick he waspromptly taken to hospital. A preliminary examination resulted in thedoctors' seriously considering the advisability of amputating hiswounded arm, but upon a further consultation it was found that therewas a possibility of saving the limb, although it would bepractically useless for the rest of his life.
Raeburn was not told of this. In spite of his disappointment at notbeing allowed to go with the rest of the prize crew his optimism wasremarkable.
"Can't understand why those doctors insist upon keeping me here, oldman," he remarked to Terence, when the lieutenant came to bid himgood-bye. "I feel as fit as a fiddle, except for the long-windedbusiness over my arm, you know. And it's rotten not being able to seethe 'Strongbow' come into port. You'll take good care to remindSmithers to send along that pipe of mine, won't you?"
"I won't forget," asserted Terence.
"And another thing," continued Kenneth. "If you get a chance to goto Edinburgh you might look up my tailor--you know, the fellow in theHogmarket--and get him to knock me up another No. 5 rig. I can'tpossibly present myself in this shabby uniform when I have to reportmyself for duty. Explain to him that my arm is crocked and I can'twrite at the present moment."
The lieutenant could not commit himself to reply. Gripping Raeburn'sleft hand he bade him "buck up," and made an undignified retreat fromthe man who was never again to wear the uniform of the R.N.R.
Throughout the tedious journey to Leith, Aubyn was on tenterhooks,for he was a day and a half overdue. During that time the "Strongbow"might have arrived, coaled, and put to sea again, without waiting forthe men who had formed the prize crew of the "Roldal."
As the train swept acr
oss the Forth Bridge, Terence anxiously scannedthe shipping below, on the off-chance of "spotting" his ship shouldshe by any possibility leave the open roadstead and ascend the Firth.
At Leith he ordered his men to fall in and marched them down to theharbour. Inquiries of various naval officers elicited no informationof the "Strongbow's" presence. Almost all of the people he questionedwere convinced that the armed merchant-cruiser had not put in anappearance.
Allowing the men to "stand easy," Terence made his way to the officeof the admiral commanding the Forth division of the auxiliarycruisers. On sending in his card he was received by the admiral inperson.
"We've had no news of the 'Strongbow' for the last three days," saidthe admiral. "She is now forty-eight hours' overdue."
"Has anything happened to her, sir?" asked Terence.
"There is no saying. On Tuesday we received a wireless from her,reporting all well and giving her position. From that hour till nowthere has been a complete blank. Of course, she may have had to standby a prize, and if her wireless has broken down her silence isexplicable. However, I wish you to say nothing about the matter. Sendyour men to the 'Sailors' Home' and report yourself here at noon.Remember to leave your telephone number at the office as soon as youhave completed your hotel arrangements, so that, if necessary, we cansend for you."
Terence carried out these instructions and resigned himself for adisquieting wait. Something serious, he argued, must have befallenthe armed merchant-man. He was somewhat reassured when, on giving hismen orders to proceed to temporary shore quarters, the prize crewexpressed astonishment neither by word nor gesture. His peace of mindwould have been greatly disturbed, however, could he but have heardthe men discussing the "Strongbow's" non-appearance amongstthemselves.
Upon making his third call at the office Terence was again receivedby the admiral. The sturdy old officer's face was grave.
"I'm afraid it's a case, Mr. Aubyn," he said. "The 'Strongbow's'hopelessly overdue. I have just reported her to the Admiralty asregarded as lost. You had better proceed on leave, and I will notifyWhitehall accordingly."
Terence almost reeled out into the street. The blow had temporarilyunnerved him. Not one thought did he give at the time to the factthat Raeburn and he had been almost miraculously preserved fromsharing the fate of their gallant comrades: his whole mind wascentred on the appalling disaster.
He mentally pictured the old ship ploughing along in that terrificgale. A staunch vessel such as she was would have made light of theclimatic conditions. It was fairly safe to conclude that she had beensunk either by a mine or a torpedo--and sunk so suddenly that therehad been no time to send out a wireless call for aid. The state ofthe sea, he knew, would render it impossible to lower the boats evenhad there been time. Out in the wild North Sea, miles from land, andwith no means of recording her end in the course of duty, the"Strongbow" had vanished utterly.
He thought of his comrades. The cool and collected Captain Ripponden;Commander Ramshaw, one of the very best; Lymore, taciturn, yet a manwho set duty on a high pedestal; slow and deliberate McBride, andmore than a dozen others. All of them, tried comrades in stress andstorm, had given up their lives for their country. Only Raeburn andhe were left--and Raeburn incapacitated for further service afloat.
Verily, the "price of Admiralty" is a huge one, but men will ever befound ready to comply with its demands.