CHAPTER XII--The Night Attack
Just before midnight two columns of destroyers in line ahead slippedaway in the darkness, the course being N. 42 deg. E. Without showing somuch as a glimmer of light, with their funnels screened with "sparkarresters" to prevent the exit of glowing embers from the furnaces, thelong, lean craft headed in the supposed direction of the enemy fleet.
From the elevated fore-bridge Sefton could scarce distinguish betwixtthe _Calder's_ bows and the dark, heavy waves. The only guide to enablethe destroyer to keep station was the phosphorescent swirl at the sternof the vessel next ahead, as her triple propellers churned the water.
On deck the men were at the battle-stations, standing motionless andsilent. Their faces had been blackened with burnt cork to render themas inconspicuous as possible should the beam of a hostile search-lightswing itself athwart their vessel.
Although the high-raised fo'c'sle of the _Calder_ was comparatively dry,showers of spray cast aside by the flaring bows were caught by thestrong wind and dashed over the bridge until it was impossible to makeuse of night-glasses owing to the beads of moisture on the lenses.
Beyond a curt, clearly-enunciated order to the quartermaster, neither ofthe two officers spoke a word, Crosthwaite gripping the guard-rail andpeering ahead, while Sefton kept his attention upon the tell-talegreyish smudge that marked the position of the destroyer ahead.
The result of years of training at night manoeuvres was bearing fruit.Iron-nerved men were at the helm of each boat--men who had long sincegot beyond the "jumpy" stage, when strange freaks of imagination conjureup visions of objects that do not exist. A false alarm and a rapid firefrom the 4-inch guns would be fatal to the enterprise, the success ofwhich depended entirely upon getting well within torpedo-range withoutbeing spotted by the alert foe.
A feeble light, screened in all directions save that towards the vesselsastern, blinked rapidly from the leading destroyer. It was the signalfor the flotilla to form in line abeam.
"Starboard ten!" ordered Crosthwaite.
"Starboard ten, sir!" was the helmsman's reply, while thelieutenant-commander telegraphed for speed to be increased to 22 knotsin order to bring the _Calder_ even with the leader.
Had it been daylight the manoeuvre would have been executed with theprecision of a machine; being night it was impossible to follow themovements of the whole flotilla, but carried out the orders were, eachdestroyer keeping station with the one nearest on her starboard beam.
Suddenly the darkness was penetrated by the dazzling beam of asearch-light from a ship at a distance of two miles on the _Calder's_port bow. For a moment it hung irresolute, and then swung round in thedirection of the on-coming destroyers.
A huge black mass intercepted the rays, its outlines silhouetted againstthe silvery glare. The mass was a German light cruiser, evidentlydetached for scouting purposes and returning with screened lightstowards the main fleet.
Instantly a furious cannonade was opened upon the luckless light cruiserfrom half a dozen of her consorts. For a couple of minutes the firingcontinued, until, with a tremendous flash and a deafening roar, hermagazine exploded.
"The Huns will never admit their mistake," thought Sefton. "They'llclaim to have destroyed another of our ships."
Then the sub's whole attention was chained to the work now on hand.Barely had the last of the flying debris from the German light cruiserstruck the water when at full speed the British destroyer flotillahurled itself upon the foe.
Played upon by fifty search-lights, the target for a hundred guns, largeand small, the destroyers held on with one set purpose, theirtorpedo-men discharging the 21-inch missiles with rapidity and cooldetermination.
Above the crash of the ordnance could be heard the deeper boom of thetorpedoes as they exploded against the ships' bottoms at a depth offifteen or twenty feet below the surface.
Slick in between two large battleships the _Calder_ rushed, lettingloose a pair of torpedoes at each of the hostile ships. One torpedo wasobserved to explode close to the stern of the battleship to starboard,the stricken vessel leaving the line with a decided list and envelopedin smoke.
"Light cruisers, by Jove!" muttered Sefton, as the _Calder_, on nearingthe end of the enemy line, was confronted by three vessels of the"Wiesbaden" class.
A heavy fire greeted the approaching destroyer, but almost withoutexception the shells went wide of their mark. Then, gathering speed,one of the German light cruisers ported helm and attempted to ram herlightly-built opponent.
Making no effort to avoid the danger, the _Calder_ held on, untilSefton, turning to see what his commanding officer was doing, foundCrosthwaite sitting on the bridge with his back against the pedestal ofthe semaphore, and his hands clasping his right leg just above the knee,and blood oozing from a gash in his forehead.
The sub was the only officer on the bridge capable of taking command.
"Hard-a-starboard!" he shouted, in order to make himself heard above thedin.
Ever quick on her helm, the destroyer spun round almost on her heel.The German's stem missed her by a couple of feet, while, hurled bodilysideways by the mass of water from the former's bow wave, the _Calder_slid past with her side-plating almost touching that of her enemy.
Simultaneously the Hun let fly a broadside. The destroyer reeled underthe shock, but once again she was in luck, for none of the hostile gunscould be sufficiently depressed to score a vital hit. The next instantthe cruiser was lost to sight in the darkness, saluted by a number ofrounds from the destroyer's after 4-inch gun.
Temporarily stunned by the detonations of the German cruiser's guns--forhe was within twenty feet of the muzzles of several of theweapons--Sefton leaned against the conning-tower. The metal wasunpleasantly hot, for a light shell had burst against it hardly a minutebefore. Beyond denting the steel armour and blowing the signal-lockerover the side, the missile had done no further damage.
Coughing the acrid fumes from his lungs and clearing his eyes ofinvoluntary tears, for the air was thick with irritating dust, Seftonbegan to take a renewed interest in his surroundings.
The _Calder_ had penetrated the hostile line without sustaining seriousdamage. She had now to return.
The sub grasped one of the voice-tubes. The flexible pipe came away inhis hand, the whole system having been cut through with a fragment ofshell.
"We've had it pretty hot!" he soliloquized. "Wonder we're still afloat.Well, now for it once more."
He leant over the after side of the bridge. A dark figure was movingfor'ard ten feet beneath him.
"Pass the word to the L.T.O.," ordered the sub, "to report the number oftorpedoes remaining."
"Aye, aye, sir," replied the man, and, retracing his steps, he hurriedaft to where the leading torpedo-man was standing at the tubes.
Back came the messenger, lurching as he loomed through the darkness.
"The man hasn't found his sea-legs yet," thought Sefton; then aloud heasked: "Well?"
"None left, sir," replied the seaman, and, having delivered his message,he pitched upon his face.
Sefton had to let him lie there. The sub could not leave the bridge.Even Crosthwaite had to be left alone until the destroyer was out ofaction.
It would have been a futile task to attempt to take the _Calder_ backbetween the enemy lines. With no other offensive weapons than hercomparatively light 4-inch quick-firers, she would be unable to do anyserious damage to the huge armoured ships, while at the same time shewould be exposed to an overwhelming fire as she passed abeam of theGerman battleships and light cruisers.
So into the darkness, beyond the glare of the search-lights, Sefton tookthe destroyer, with the intention of making a wide sweep and rejoiningthe British fleet. Of how the _Calder's_ consorts were faring he knewnothing, except that the action was being briskly maintained.Occasionally the foggy night would be rent by a vivid red glare thatoutclassed the almost continuous flashes of the guns, which illuminatedthe low-lying clouds like incessant summe
r lightning. The roar of theordnance was simply indescribable. It seemed impossible that a mancould go through it without having his ear-drums burst by the terrificair-beats of the appalling detonations.
A dark shape loomed through the darkness almost athwart the _Calder's_track. Only a quick movement of the helm avoided collision with thefloating object, which, as the _Calder_ swept by, revealed itself as alarge destroyer.
On deck she was little better than a wreck. Bridge, conning-tower,funnels, masts, and boats had vanished utterly. Her guns, wrenched fromtheir mountings, pointed upwards at grotesque angles through theirshattered shields. Where the torpedo-tubes had been was a jagged holestill spanned by one arc of the gun-metal racer. This much was visiblein the reflected glare of the distant search-lights as the _Calder_swept by with her guns trained abeam should the vessel still be capableof offence.
A score of men, mostly engine-room ratings, were gathered amidships onthe shattered deck of the crippled vessel. They had desisted from thework on which they were engaged, and were gazing mutely at the destroyerthat might be instrumental in giving them the _coup de grace_.
"What ship is that?" roared Sefton through a megaphone, the interveningdistance being less than twenty yards.
"His Majesty's destroyer _Yealm_," was the reply, flung proudly throughthe darkness.
Thrusting both levers of the engine-room telegraph to "Full SpeedAstern" and afterwards to "Stop", the sub brought the _Calder_ to astandstill within easy hailing distance of her disabled consort. Herewas a case in which assistance could be rendered without detriment tothe interests of the Service. The _Calder_, until she could replenishher store of torpedoes, was practically useless as a fighting unit.With her engines undamaged she could tow the _Yealm_ into comparativesafety, provided she was not intercepted by a straggling hostile ship.
"Stand by to receive a hawser!" continued Sefton. "We'll give you apluck out of this."
"No; thanks all the same, sir," shouted a deep voice. "We're soundbelow the water-line, and we can get under way again in a few minutes.We'll take our chances of getting out of it. We gave the swine analmighty punching before they swept our decks. Carry on, sir, and givethem another half a dozen for us."
It was the _Yealm's_ torpedo gunner who spoke, the only survivingexecutive officer of the gallant destroyer.
"Can you spare us any torpedoes?" shouted Sefton, an inspirationflashing across his mind.
"Aye, aye, sir," was the reply. "Four."
"Very good; we'll come alongside," rejoined the sub, who thereuponordered two wire "springs" to be made ready, so as to establishcommunication between the two destroyers.
"Well done, Sefton!" exclaimed his lieutenant-commander.
The sub turned and found that Crosthwaite had regained his feet, and wasstanding beside him upon the partly demolished bridge.
"You're----", began Sefton, but the lieutenant-commander shut him up.
"Nothing," he replied laconically. "You might fix me up. Not a word toStirling, mind. If I keep out of his way, he's not to know. But, byJove, you've been knocked about a bit."
The information, although correct, came as a surprise to Sefton. Forthe first time he noticed that the coat-sleeve of his left arm was cutaway, the remnant hanging by a few threads, while his left wrist wasencumbered by a bandage. He must have tied the handkerchief himself,but the action had been purely automatic. Hitherto he had had noknowledge that he had been hit by a splinter, and was quite unaware thathe had acted as his own bandager.
"Carry on," continued Crosthwaite. "I'll stand easy for a while. I'llfeel all right in a few minutes."
He vanished behind the wreckage of the conning tower, leaving Sefton tosurvey the scene. It was now light enough to discern the nature of thedamage caused by the ordeal through which the _Calder_ had passed, forthe flashes of the distant guns, added to the reflected rays of thesearch-lights, made it possible to see with fair distinctness.
Of the _Calder's_ funnels only one remained standing. The others,either swept clean away or lying athwart the deck, left jagged cavities,through which the smoke was pouring from the oil-fed furnaces.
The starboard side of the bridge had vanished, with it the domed top ofthe conning-tower, while the armoured sheets upon the latter, rippedlike cardboard, had been torn open, revealing the interior--a jumble oftwisted voice-tubes and shattered indicators. The same shell that hadwrought havoc with the conning-tower had swept the for'ard 4-inchcompletely from its mountings, taking its crew with it.
Meanwhile a dozen men had boarded the _Yealm_. Her scanty survivors weretoo done up to tackle the task of heaving out the torpedoes, for,included in the work of destruction, her derricks had shared the fate ofthe rest of the top-hamper. Others of the _Calder's_ crew wereattending to the injuries of their comrades, for, in addition to eightmen killed outright, six were mortally wounded, and a dozen more hadsustained injuries that would incapacitate them for further service.
The plucky messenger who had brought Sefton's reply from the L.T.O. hadbeen carried below. In the heat of the fight he had received a splinterof shell in his chest, the impact fracturing one of the breast-bones.Yet, undaunted, he continued to serve his gun until the destroyer hademerged from the hostile fire. Even then he refused to present himselfbefore the doctor, and was making his way to the fo'c'sle like a woundedanimal, when Sefton, unaware of his injuries, had ordered him to take amessage aft. This he did, in spite of the increasing pain andfaintness, and having delivered the reply he had been forced tocollapse.
At length the four gleaming cylinders were transferred from the _Yealm_to the _Calder's_ decks. Once more the destroyer, although batteredsufficiently to justify her retiring from the fight, was made capable ofdealing deadly blows at her gigantic antagonists.
The "springs" were cast off, and, with the engines running at full speedahead, the _Calder_ again hurled herself into the fray.