CHAPTER VII--In the Thick of the Fight
Leaving Sub-lieutenant Jack Sefton on his elevated perch in thefire-control station, it will be necessary to follow the fortunes of thevessel from which he had in theory deserted--the destroyer _Calder_.
Like the rest of the flotillas, the _Calder_ had cleared for actionshortly after noon. Hers was a far different part from that of the_Warrior_. There was practically no protection for her guns' crew andfor the men serving the torpedo-tubes. Her conning-tower affordedshelter only from slivers of steel and the bursting shrapnel; it wasvulnerable to large projectiles. Relying solely on her speed andquickness of helm, the destroyer's mission was to dart in towards theenemy lines and get in as many hits with her torpedoes as possible.Then, if fortunate enough to escape a direct hit from the German guns,she would have to scurry back to the shelter of the battle-cruisers, andawait another opportunity to make a further torpedo attack upon theenemy.
At 3.30 p.m. Beatty's command increased speed to 25 knots, the SecondBattle-cruiser Squadron forming astern of the First, while a far-flungline of destroyers took up station ahead. The course was now E.S.E.,slightly converging upon the enemy, whose ships, looming with varyingdegrees of visibility through the haze, were now at a distance of alittle more than ten sea miles.
Half that distance away the Fifth Battle Squadron, including thegigantic _Warspite_, was bearing N.N.W., with the object of supportingthe battle-cruisers when occasion arose.
It was a proud moment for the gallant Beatty when he realized that nowhe was between the enemy battle-cruisers and their North Sea bases;while there was an ever-increasing possibility that Jellicoe's mainfleet would speedily be in a position to cut off the German battleshipsfrom their retreat through the Skager-Rack to Kiel. Yet at the sametime the odds against Beatty were bordering upon the enormous. His dutywas to engage, entice, and hold the enemy in a northerly directionwithout being overwhelmed by superior force. Even at the risk of losingsome of his best ships he had to engage the attention of the enemy, lurethem into the belief that at last the British battle-cruisers had runinto a trap, and hammer away until the Commander-in-Chief arrived uponthe scene with a vastly superior fleet.
At a quarter to five the opposing forces opened fire simultaneously at arange of 20,000 yards. The _Calder_ was keeping station broad on thebeam of the _Queen Mary_, and warding off threatened submarine attacks,for the time was not yet ripe for the destroyers to hurl themselvesagainst the battered hostile ships.
"By Jove, this is going to be 'some' scrap," muttered Crosthwaite, as aregular tornado of heavy shells "straddled" the leading battle-cruisers.
At first the German gunnery was excellent, several direct hits beingreceived by the British battle-cruisers, but in a few moments thesteady, rapid, methodical salvoes from the British 13.5's began to makethemselves felt. Between the patches of haze, rent by the lurid flashesof the guns, could be descried the greenish-grey outlines of the hostilevessels fast being reduced to scrap-iron. For the time being all seemedwell with the British battle-cruisers, whose volume of fire was stillbeing delivered with that terrible regularity which the Huns have goodcause to dread.
Suddenly the huge _Indefatigible_ was destroyed; a gallantbattle-cruiser of nearly 19,000 tons had paid the price of Admiralty.
In previous naval battles such an appalling catastrophe as the blowingup of a mighty ship has caused the two fleets spontaneously to ceasefire for a period of some minutes; but in the Jutland fight, regardlessof the fate of the battle-cruiser, the rest of the squadron redoubledtheir efforts. Not for one second did the hellish din cease, as thedeath-dealing salvoes hurtled into the opposing ships. To quote thewords of one on board the _Tiger_, it was "a glorified DonnybrookFair--whenever you see a head, crack it!"
Twenty minutes later Crosthwaite saw the _Queen Mary_ sunk. So quicklydid she disappear that the _Tiger_, following astern, passed through thesmoke that marked the grave of the devoted ship.
Beyond, the _Invincible_, already badly hit, sank, taking with her 750gallant officers and men.
By this time the Fifth Battle Squadron, which had been attached toBeatty's command, came into action, opening fire at 20,000 yards, andalthough the pressure of the enemy's predominance in numbers wasconsiderably relaxed, the danger was by no means over. For, in the nowthicker haze, the German battle fleet had arrived upon the scene, andBeatty was literally betwixt two fires. Yet he handled his vessels withadmirable strategical and tactical skill, being convinced, as was everyman under him, that in spite of losses he was succeeding in holding theHuns.
Majestically the four great battleships, _Warspite_, _Valiant_,_Barham_, and _Malaya_, bore into the melee, each of their 15-inch gunsfiring with terrible effect. The head of the German column seemed to beliterally crumpled and crushed. A large three-funnelled battleship,possibly the _Thuringien_, received terrific punishment. Masts,funnels, turrets, were blown away piecemeal, until, a mass of smoke andflames, she hauled off line and was quickly screened by the smoke fromsome of the German destroyers. Whether she sank--and it seemed as ifshe could not do otherwise--Crosthwaite was unable to determine. OtherGerman vessels, badly damaged, were swung out of position, some of themon fire and showing a tremendous list.
At a quarter to five both fleets altered course several points, therival lines turning outwards and completely reversing their previousdirection. It was at this juncture that the British destroyers wereordered to take advantage of the confusion in which the Huns had beenthrown and to launch a torpedo attack upon the battered enemy ships.
"Now for it," thought Crosthwaite, the glint of battle in his eyes. Itwas his chance--a dash in broad daylight against the quick-firers of theGerman vessels. Never before in the history of naval warfare haddestroyers been ordered to attack battleships save at night. Everythingdepended upon skill in handling, speed, and the turmoil into which theenemy had been thrown by the terrific gun-fire of the battleships of the_Queen Elizabeth_ class.
In four columns line ahead the destroyer flotillas raced off at topspeed. Drawing clear of the cruisers, they turned 8 points tostarboard, a course that would bring them in contact with the enemyline. Thick clouds of fire-tinged smoke belched from their funnels--notdue to bad stoking but to the deliberate manipulation of theoil-fuel-fed furnaces, since smoke alone offered any concealment duringthe daylight attack.
With a couple of quartermasters, a signalman, and a messenger to attendto the voice-tubes, Crosthwaite took up his station within theconning-tower. All his mental powers were at work, and yet he remainedperfectly cool and collected. Hardly a detail that came under his noticeof that onward rush escaped his recollection.
For the first few miles the destroyers kept perfect station. Had theybeen on peace manoeuvres their relative distances could not have beenbetter maintained. Through the eddying, ash-laden smoke, Crosthwaitestrained his bloodshot eyes upon the destroyer next ahead, ready at thefirst sign to reduce speed or swerve should the little craft be hit orfall out of line. The possibility of the _Calder_ being "done in" neveroccurred to him, once the order had been given to attack. It was alwaysone of her consorts that might meet with ill-luck, but Crosthwaite'scommand--no, never.
Shells were beginning to ricochet from the water all around the devoteddestroyers; yet, seemingly bearing a charmed life, they held grimly ontheir way.
More than once the sharp crash of a projectile exploding astern causedthe lieutenant-commander to turn his head. Already rents were visiblein the _Calder's_ funnels, through which the smoke poured in longtrailing wisps. By the two tubes the torpedo-men stood rigidly atattention. Their two deadly weapons had been "launched home" and thetubes trained ten degrees for'ard of the beam. With his hand upon thefiring-trigger the torpedo coxswain of each end waited, as impassive asif carved in marble, ready to speed the missile on its way, andapparently indifferent to the fact that a sliver of steel striking thedeadly warhead would involve the destroyer and her entire crew inabsolute and instantaneous destr
uction.
Suddenly the leading destroyer ported helm, turning so swiftly andlisting so excessively that, for the moment, Crosthwaite thought thatshe had received a mortal blow. Her alert commander had noticed asuspicious movement amongst the irregular line of battered Germanwar-ships, now almost within effective torpedo range.
Out from behind the screen of battleships tore a German light cruiserand nearly a score of their ocean-going torpedo-boats. Whether it waswith the intention of intercepting the British destroyers, or whetherabout to launch a torpedo attack upon Beatty's battle-cruisers,Crosthwaite knew not. All he did know was that the rival flotillas wereclosing at an aggregate rate of more than a mile a minute, and that thenext few seconds would find the torpedo-craft mixed up in a most unholyscrap.
All attempts at formation were now cast to the winds. Interlining,dodging across each other's bows, the engaging vessels raced madly toand fro, their quick-firers barking as rapidly as the gunners couldthrust home the cartridges and clang the breech-blocks. So intricatewas the manoeuvring that Crosthwaite saw two German torpedo-boatscollide, and, while in that position, they were raked by a dozen shellsfrom the _Turbulent_.
Almost the next instant he was aware that a similar peril threatened the_Calder_, for a British destroyer, hit in her engine-room, circlederratically to starboard across her bows.
Gripping the engine-room telegraph-indicator levers, Crosthwaite rammedthem to full speed astern. It was his only chance, for he could notpass either across the bows or astern of the crippled destroyer withoutcertain risk of colliding with others of the flotilla. Then hewaited--perhaps five seconds--in breathless suspense. Thank God, the_Calder_ began to lose way! It now remained to be seen whether shewould gather sternway before her sharp stem crashed into the otherdestroyer amidships.
Even as he gripped the levers Crosthwaite saw the crew of the crippledcraft's after 4-inch gun slew the weapon round to have a smack at theGerman vessel that had hit her so badly. The gun-layer, pressing hisshoulder to the recoil-pad, bent over the sights. The next instant ahostile shell landed fairly upon the 4-inch quick-firer, bursting withan ear-splitting detonation.
When the smoke had drifted away, the gun was no longer visible, only afew twisted pieces of metal marking the spot where the mounting hadstood. Of the men serving the quick-firer only one remained--thegun-layer. By the vagaries of explosion he was practically unhurt,except for being partially stunned by the terrible detonation. For someminutes he stood stock-still, as if unable to realize that the gun andhis comrades had disappeared; then, making a sudden bound, he leapt intothe sea. Evidently under the impression that the vessel was on thepoint of foundering, he had decided to swim for it.
Well it was for him that the _Calder_ was now almost motionless,although her propellers were going hard astern. Caught by the backwashof the revolving screws, he was swept past the side like a cork in amountain torrent, until one of the men on the _Calder's_ fore-bridgethrew him a rope.
As coolly as if mustering for divisions, the rescued gun-layer made hisway aft, and, saluting the gunner, requested to be allowed to assist inserving the _Calder's_ after 4-inch.
Out from behind a dense cloud of smoke leapt a German torpedo-boat. Hercommander had spotted the _Calder_ practically without steerage-way, andhad made up his mind to ram, since his own craft was badly hit and couldnot keep afloat much longer.
Quickly Crosthwaite shouted an order. A torpedo leapt from the_Calder's_ deck and disappeared with a splash beneath the surface.Anxiously the lieutenant-commander watched the ever-diverging lines thatmarked the track of the locomotive weapon. The target was a difficultone, although the range was but 200 yards.
The German skipper saw the approaching danger and attempted to porthelm. Crippled in the steam steering-gear, the Hun torpedo-boat wasslow in answering. A column of water leapt 200 feet in the air; by thetime it subsided the hostile craft was no longer in existence, save as ashattered and torn hull plunging through nineteen fathoms of water toher ocean bed.
By this time the German torpedo-craft had had about enough of it. Atleast two of them had been sunk by German gun-fire, while another pair,their upper works reduced to a mass of tangled scrap-iron, had mistakeneach other for foes, with the result that a German destroyer had beensent to the bottom by a torpedo from her consort.
Turning back, the battered remnants of the Hun flotilla fled for theshelter of their battle-cruisers. The path was now clear for thefurtherance of the British destroyers' attack upon the larger vessels ofthe hostile fleet; but the difficulties had increased tenfold owing tothe injury of some of the boats, which were compelled to slacken speedand drop astern.
Yet undaunted, the black-hulled hornets reformed into some semblance oforder, and, under a galling fire, hurled themselves upon the formidablearray of German battle-cruisers.