CHAPTER XIV.
THE END OF THE "TERRIER"
H.M. torpedo-gunboat "Terrier" lay at anchor just within the limits of one of the numerous shallow estuaries of the Essex Coast. By the aid of the lead-line and an Admiralty chart on too small a scale to be of much assistance, Captain Holloway had taken his craft through the intricate approach channel with often less than three feet of water under her keel. Now she was lying head to wind, for it was high water and no tide running, in six fathoms, and within two hundred and eighty yards of the mud-fringed shore.
The "Terrier" had spent an uneventful week on her station, patrolling her appointed limits in the North Sea without a single incident to break the monotony. Swept fore and aft by huge seas that her high fo'c'sle failed to ward off; plugging away in a zig-zag course day after day, till her grey funnels were bleached white with salt spray; with her guns' crews standing by their guns through watch and watch day and night, she was "doing her little bit" as one small unit of the vast, tireless navy.
A few hours previous to the torpedo gunboat's anchoring in the creek, one of the crew had with great suddenness developed appendicitis. Although the "Terrier" carried a surgeon, the case was one for a shore hospital, and as one of the Admiralty "sick-quarters" was situated in the village at the head of the creek, Captain Holloway decided to land the patient with the utmost despatch.
It was blowing fairly fresh. Outside the bar the sea was foam-flecked. Rollers came tumbling in, breaking heavily on shore or else expending themselves harmlessly in the creek. At her anchorage the torpedo-gunboat was pitching slightly to the heave of the open sea.
"Do you see any sign of the boat, Mr. Aubyn?" asked Captain Holloway. "Those fellows ought to be on their way back by this time."
Terence, who was officer of the watch, brought his glass to bear upon the shore, where a cluster of red-tiled roofs, dominated by the grey tower of a church, marked the position of the village—a distance of about a mile and a half from where the "Terrier" lay.
"Boat's still at the hard, sir," he reported. "The boat-keeper is sitting in the stern sheets."
Lieutenant-Commander Holloway gave vent to a gesture of impatience. He knew from the fact that the seaman left in charge was taking it easy that the rest of the party were not on their way back to the hard.
On board the "Terrier" the crew were taking advantage of dry decks to air their saturated clothing and bedding. The watches had just been changed. Down on the ill-ventilated mess-deck grimy stokers, up from the confined stokehold, were scrubbing themselves and changing into clean rig. The fo'c'sle was packed with humanity. Amid the babel of voices Terence could detect the burr of Glorious Devon, the broad Scotch of the Highlands, the staccato voice of an excitable Welshman, the rich brogue of Connemara, and the last but not least, the unmistakable Cockney accent, but one and all stout-hearted British seamen. The most frequent topic of conversation that drifted to the sub.'s ears as he stood on the elevated bridge was football. Some of the men were discussing home affairs in the blunt open fashion that Jack Tar unconsciously adopts; others were debating the prospects of Christmas leave. As for the war, the subject was almost entirely ignored.
Once more the sub. brought his telescope to bear upon the shore. There were signs of activity on the part of the boat-keeper, so Terence came to the conclusion that the hospital party were on their way back.
Then, with a true seaman's almost unconscious instinct he gave a glance first to windward and then towards the open sea. As he did so he made a sudden dash to the engine-room telegraph, signalling for full speed astern with the starboard engine and full speed ahead with the port, at the same time shouting in stentorian tones that electrified the whole of the crew within hearing:—
"Submarine on the port beam!"
A bugle blared. Ere the short notes of alarm had died away Captain Holloway was beside his subordinate on the bridge. The guns' crews of the two 4.7's sprang to their weapons. Clang went the breach-blocks.
"Eight hundred yards!" announced the gunner calmly, as the copper cylinders with their deadly steel heads were thrust home.
But a deadlier weapon was already on its way towards the doomed ship. A torpedo, set at its minimum depth in order to make sure that it would not pass under the keel of its intended prey, was tearing towards the "Terrier" with the speed of an express train.
From his position on the bridge Terence watched its rapid progress. He could do nothing beyond what he had already done. It was evident that before the ship could swing on her cable, under the adverse action of her twin propellers, until she was bows on to the deadly missile, the torpedo would hit her.
At times the gleaming steel cylinder was clear of the water between the crests of the waves, yet unswerving either to right or left, it headed with disconcerting accuracy towards the ship.
The two 4.7's clashed almost simultaneously. The shell from her bow gun, aimed at the now disappearing periscope of the hostile submarine, missed it by a bare yard, and ricochetting, threw up five distinct columns of spray ere it sunk for good and all.
The gun-layer at the after gun with admirable presence of mind launched a projectile at the torpedo in the hope of diverting its course. He made one mistake: he forgot to take into consideration the refractive properties of water, and consequently the missile struck the surface too far in the wake of the torpedo to affect its direction.
"Stand clear there!" shouted the captain, seeing even in that tense interval that several of the men were standing by the stanchions.
There was a general rush to the starboard side to avoid the direct effect of the explosion of the "tin-fish," then a strange silence fell upon the ship's company.
"Crash!"
A hundred feet or so in the air rose a column of spray, as the deadly torpedo exploded on the port side nearly abreast of the fo'c'sle gun. The ship literally jumped a yard or so out of the water, then with a sickening thud, followed by the unmistakable sound of water pouring into her hull, subsided heavily in the agitated foam.
With his senses practically numbed by the shock of the explosion, Terence stood stockstill, grasping the bridge rail with both hands, while unconscious of the fact he held his telescope under his arm. He was dimly aware of the débris flying all around him, as the slender pole-mast, ventilators, and other heavy objects went crashing over the side. Then, as the cloud of spray and acrid smoke dispersed he could discern the forms of the crew as with varying speeds the majority regained their feet. A few, stunned by the concussion, were lying inertly upon the deck.
For quite ninety seconds Aubyn remained in his dazed condition. Then he realized that the ship was done for, and that he was still alive. Further, as an officer it was his duty to exert himself for the sake of the men. He remembered that the captain had been on the bridge, and turning saw his superior officer standing at the head of the ladder.
The captain was capless. There was blood upon his forehead. A splinter had grazed his head, making a clean superficial wound. The two men exchanged reassuring glances, then in clear, steady tones Captain Holloway issued an order for all hands to fall in on the quarter-deck.
The men made their way aft at the double. There was no undue scrambling or frantic haste, although the "Terrier's" raised fo'c'sle was now almost flush with the water, and her after part, where the freeboard was nominally only five feet, was thrice that height in the air.
Up through the small awkward engine-room stokehold hatchways came the "black squad," not one man of whom had stirred from his post until ordered to do so. Knowing full well that a catastrophe had befallen the ship, but ignorant of the actual facts, or whether she was on the point of making a sudden plunge to the bottom, these men had to undergo the greatest ordeal of any of the ship's company. Yet, before making his dash for safety, the artificer-engineer had taken care to prevent an explosion of the boilers as the water poured into the stokehold.
Of the boats on the davits only one was fit for service. The others were badly strained by the explosion or damaged by the flying débris. The serviceable one was quickly lowered, and, although leaking freely, was manned and brought alongside.
"Pass all injured men over the side," ordered Captain Holloway. "The rest of you can make the best of your way ashore—and good luck to you."
The crew gave three rousing cheers and prepared for the coming ordeal, for although the distance to the shore was an easy swim the bitter coldness of the water had to be taken into consideration.
One by one the wounded were passed into the boat; after them as many men as she could safely hold. The boat was ordered to lie off and render assistance to any swimmers in difficulties.
"With your permission, sir," said Aubyn, "I'll have a look down on the mess-deck. There may be some of the hands left below."
"Do so, by all means, Mr. Aubyn," replied his superior. "The old boat shows no great hurry."
"I fancy she's aground for'ard, sir," said the sub. "I'll be as sharp as I can."
Descending the now almost perpendicular ladder Terence gained the shelving mess-deck. Already the water was surging over the forepart; kit-bags, tables and stools were floating in a confused mass, while those that were not yet reached by the rapidly rising flood had been thrown about in all directions by the explosion.
It was some time before the sub. grew accustomed to the semi-gloom. His senses were still affected by the concussion; he could see the water pouring in, but the noise it made was barely audible. The situation reminded him of a cinematograph show unaccompanied by a band.
"All clear as far as I can see," he thought. "It's about time I looked after number one. Heavens! What is that?"
Lying almost buried by a pile of gear in one corner of the stokers' mess was the body of a man. He was insensible, and, in the hurried rush, had been overlooked by his companions. Already the level of the water was up to the man's chin as he lay with his head and shoulders propped up against a broken ditty-box.
Knee-deep in water Terence hurried to the rescue. The man, a great brawny specimen of humanity, was stripped to the waist. Surprised in the act of washing, after coming off duty, he had been rendered senseless by the explosion. His right leg was bent under him. The limb, Terence knew at a glance, was broken. He was also bleeding profusely from an ugly scalp wound in the back of his head.
In spite of the unconscious stoker's weight—he turned the scale at sixteen stone—Aubyn dragged him along the deck to the foot of the ladder. Here he was temporarily baffled, for the metal "treads" were now sloping downwards at such an angle that it would be difficult for him to get a foothold unimpeded, much more when attempting to lift a heavy man.
It never occurred to the sub. to call upon Captain Holloway for assistance. The captain, the only person now on deck, was mechanically puffing at an unlighted cigarette, while his attention was fixed upon the crowd of swimmers, good, bad, and indifferent, as they struck out for the shore. Beyond removing his boots the captain had made no preparations for safety, resolving to remain on his quarter-deck until his ill-fated command disappeared beneath the waves.
Unseen by his superior officer and equally unconscious of his presence, Terence gained the upper deck, secured a rope, and again descended to the aid of the luckless stoker. Bending the rope round the man's chest and back the sub. clambered up the ladder and began to heave away. Under ordinary circumstances Aubyn would never have attempted such a feat, but sheer nerve gave him the strength of a giant. Unaided he succeeded in raising the senseless man and toppling him over the coaming on to the deck.
Just then Captain Holloway, having seen that the last of the swimmers had reached the mud-fringed shore, remembered that the sub. had gone below, and finding that he had not returned, hurried to the companion.
To his surprise he found Aubyn bending over the body of a badly wounded stoker.
"Found him below, sir," explained the sub. "Double fracture of the leg and a nasty gash on his head."
With his captain's assistance Terence proceeded to apply rough splints to the injured limb and to staunch the flow of blood from the man's head.
"We'll soon have him out of it," remarked Captain Holloway. "The gig's returning, and I see the whaler is coming up as hard as she can."
He pointed to the boat which had taken the invalid to the sick-quarters. Alarmed by the explosion and concluding that something had befallen the ship, the ship's crew had bent to their oars with a will, to find on drawing clear of the hard that the "Terrier" was on the point of sinking.
The sub. felt himself shivering. The keen wind blowing against his saturated nether garments reminded him that it was mid-winter. As he stooped to wring the water out of the bottoms of his trousers he realized that the unconscious stoker, who a few moments before had been toiling in the hot stokehold, was now lying stripped to the waist.
Removing his great-coat and muffler Terence slipped the garments over the unfortunate man, just as the gig and the whaler came alongside.
This time there were plenty of helpers. Carefully the stoker was lowered into the whaler and placed in the stern-sheets.
"Give way, my lads," ordered Captain Holloway. "Run this man up to the sick-quarters as hard as you know how."
Then turning to Aubyn he added,
"The old ship seems to be hanging on. We may as well have a look below and see if there's anything of value in our cabins."
Bidding the gig lie off at a boat's length from the ship, which was now tilted at such an angle that her propellers were clear of the water, Captain Holloway, followed by Terence, disappeared down the little companion just abaft the after 4.7-in. gun.
Although Aubyn had been on board the torpedo-gunboat only a week he was thoroughly familiar with the appearance of the little box-room dubbed by courtesy a cabin. It would be difficult to describe its shape, for being well aft she was cut into by the "run" of the ship's side as it approached the stern-post. It was lighted by two scuttles, or circular ports. Immediately beneath these lights was his bunk, extending from bulkhead to bulkhead, yet barely long enough for him to lie at full length.
Underneath the bunk were two mahogany drawers. In one of the two corners of the cabin, which were rectangular, stood a wash-basin, hidden from view by a green baize curtain. Against the opposite bulkhead was a very small stove, its brasswork polished to a high degree. Somewhere between the rest of the space was a chair which had to be moved whenever the occupant of the cabin crossed from one side of his personal and private domain to the other. Even the steel ceiling, coated with cork cement, in a feeble attempt to prevent "sweating" of the metal, was utilized for a secondary purpose; from here hung the sub.'s enamelled iron bath.
Being well aft Aubyn's cabin had escaped much of the force of the explosion, but most of the loose gear had been displaced and lodged in the angle formed by the sloping floor and bulkhead. Two photographs in silver frames, their glasses smashed to atoms, lay on the carpet in company with the sub.'s silver cigarette-case, his watch and chain and a toilet-case—the latter a present from his headmaster upon leaving school. That little heap represented practically the whole of his worldly belongings in the way of luxuries: he could have stowed the lot inside his sweater.
Yet he did nothing of the sort. Like a man in a trance he stood in the doorway. Unaccountably the dazed feeling that gripped him immediately after the ship had received her death-blow took possession of him again. There he remained, gazing at the scene of disorder, without stirring a finger to save his treasures, until he was aroused by Captain Holloway exclaiming:—
"Look alive, Mr. Aubyn. She's going."
Up the companion raced the two officers. The ship was trembling violently. Air bubbles, escaping through the submerged scuttles, agitated the water alongside. The whole of the fore-part of the "Terrier," as far as the base of the after funnel, was under the waves. It was even a difficult matter to cross the deck from the companion to the side.
The gig backed. Captain Holloway signed to the sub. to leap; then giving a last look round he followed Aubyn into the boat.
"Lay on your oars, man," he ordered, after the gig had gone a hundred yards from the sinking ship.
Standing in the stern-sheets, Captain Holloway waited for the end. It was not long in coming. With the White Ensign still fluttering proudly in the breeze, the "Terrier" dipped more and more till ten feet of the after-part of her keel was visible. For a brief instant the towering mass seemed to hang irresolute, then with hardly a splash the hull disappeared from sight, leaving only the after-mast from the truck to the hounds above the surface.
Raising his hand to the peak of his cap the captain gave his former command a last salute, then resuming his seat, bade the men "give way."
All the inhabitants of the village were on the shore ready to offer hospitality to the crew, many of whom had discarded most of their clothing before jumping from the ship. One petty officer, three able seamen, and a stoker were missing—doubtless killed outright by the explosion. Four men were seriously injured, while a score more were suffering from wounds and shock.
"Hanged if I can quite realize it," remarked Captain Holloway, as he walked with Aubyn towards the village. "I remember going down to my cabin and grabbing a spare cap. There were two drawers in my locker. In one was fifty half-sovereigns, and in the other over three hundred pounds in notes. The gold is in my trousers' pocket, but, although I recollect seeing the notes, I've let the whole lot go to Davy Jones. Strange, eh? Why, what's the matter with you, man?"
He turned and grasped Terence by the shoulders just in time to prevent him from falling to the ground in a dead faint.