CHAPTER XXIX.
"LIEUTENANT AUBYN, R.N., D.S.O."
On the evening following the return of the "Sunderland" to Dover, Terence obtained leave to go ashore in order to visit a brother-officer who, owing to his ship being under repairs, was temporarily installed in the Lord Warden Hotel.
Aubyn was proceeding along the Admiralty Pier when his progress was barred by a tall, bronzed young fellow in the uniform of a flight-lieutenant of the Naval Air Service.
"Hullo, Aubyn, old man!" exclaimed the latter cordially, as he extended his hand. "Forgotten me already?"
"Waynsford, by Jove!" ejaculated Terence. "Bless you, Dick, I never expected to see you here and in this rig. What has happened?"
"Oh, I chucked the Motor Boat Reserve," declared Waynsford. "It was a bit too dull. They sent me to Southampton, and that was the limit. A superannuated postman could have done my job, which was delivering letters to transports. So I applied for the Naval Air Service. It's more in my line."
"Been across yet?" asked Terence, indicating the twenty odd mile strip of water that separated Great Britain from the scene of land hostilities.
"Dunkirk twice," replied Waynsford. "Was there when the Germans started shelling the place. But we're off again early to-morrow morning."
"Yes, I heard," said Aubyn. "Big operations. We are to engage the Zeebrugge and Ostend batteries while the Allied airmen play with the German lines of communication. So I may see something of you."
"I hope so—after the fun is over," replied the young airman. "Well, I must be moving. Early hours and a good night's rest are essential to this sort of work."
The two friends parted, Terence making for the hotel, while Waynsford walked off in the direction of the castle, in which the airmen detailed for the great raid were temporarily quartered.
Precisely at one hour before sunrise the first British waterplane rose from the surface of Dover Harbour. Almost simultaneously an Army aeroplane "kicked off" from the sloping ground beyond the chalk cliffs. Each was followed at regular intervals, until a double row of swift air-craft flying with methodical precision headed towards the Flanders shore.
Already the "Sunderland" and three other light cruisers, accompanied by a torpedo-boat destroyer flotilla, were shaping a course for the Belgian coast.
Off the East Goodwins they were joined by two monitors and three pre-Dreadnought battleships, and the battle line was formed. Away steamed the destroyers to act as screens to the heavier vessels, and to guard them from submarine attack. The monitors led the main division, the cruisers acting as links between them and the battleships, which, owing to their greater draught, could not approach the coast nearer than a distance of from four to seven miles.
From Aubyn's point of view the forthcoming operations were entirely new. For the first time in his experience he was to take part in an action between ships and shore batteries, the latter being both fixed and mobile. It was a comparatively easy matter to plant shells into forts the position of which were known, but the Germans had brought up heavy guns mounted on travelling platforms, which could be moved with considerable celerity behind the long, low-lying sand dunes between Nieuport and Zeebrugge.
It was partly to locate the latter that the airmen had preceded the bombarding ships, and also to harass the enemy's lines of communication. Moreover, hostile submarines were reported to have been brought in sections to Zeebrugge, where they were being bolted together ready to take the offensive against the British vessels operating off the Belgian coast.
The "Sunderland," like her consorts, was already cleared for action. All the crew were behind the protected portions of the ship, but the captain and seven of the officers elected to fight the ship not from the armoured conning-tower but from the fore-bridge.
"By Jove! They're at it already," exclaimed Oswestry, as a series of rapid detonations came from across the dunes.
By the aid of their glasses the officers could discern the fleecy mushrooms of smoke caused by the bursting of the anti-aerial guns directed against the British airmen. Viewed from a distance it seemed impossible that a frail aeroplane could exist amid that tornado of shell.
"Wireless reports mobile battery three hundred yards sou'-sou'-east of Clemskercke church, sir," reported a signalman.
Promptly the news was transmitted to the fire-control platform. In his lofty perch a gunnery-lieutenant was busy with a complication of instruments, assisted by a midshipman and three seamen.
"Fire-control to for'ard 6-inch gun: stand by!" came the telephonic order. "Fire-control to port battery stand by."
Round swung the guns, "laid" by the master hand of the gunnery-lieutenant on the fire-control platform. Docilely obedient to the delicate mechanism they reared their muzzles high in the air.
Then, with a crash that shook the ship, five of the 6-inch guns spoke simultaneously. To the accompaniment of a long-drawn shriek the 100-pound missiles hurtled through space.
"Eighty yards short," came the wireless report of the observing seaplane that, hovering a bare five hundred feet above the German mobile battery, had marked the point of impact of the shells.
Again a salvo was let loose. This time came the encouraging statement that the hostile guns were knocked clean out of action, and that swarms of artillerymen and infantry were scurrying across the dunes.
The next discharge practically annihilated the fugitives. In one minute and twenty-five seconds the "Sunderland's" particular task was accomplished. It was but the beginning, for acting upon orders from the flagship she was ordered to engage a battery at close range.
Meanwhile, the rest of the battleships and cruisers had not been idle. A perfect tornado of shell was being directed upon the Belgian shore.
"Hard aport!" shouted the captain of the "Sunderland."
Round swung the cruiser, only just avoiding the tell-tale line of bubbles that marked the track of a torpedo. With consummate daring a German submarine had dived under a part of the torpedo-boat destroyer flotilla, and had discharged a weapon at the British cruiser. The torpedo, having missed the "Sunderland," was tearing straight for one of the monitors, which, having to go full speed astern to avoid a collision with a couple of damaged destroyers, was now practically stationary.
Owing to the light draught the weapon passed six feet beneath her keel, and finishing its run rose to the surface three hundred yards beyond; for, instead of the torpedo sinking at the end of its course, the Germans, in direct contravention of the laws of naval warfare, had closed the sinking valve so that the torpedo virtually became a floating mine.
In this instance the trick did not avail, for a well-directed shot from one of the monitor's quick-firers exploded the war-head and sent the missile into a thousand fragments.
"A feeble reply," observed Oswestry to Terence. "These fellows seem afraid to stand to their guns."
Even as he spoke the air was torn by a terrific salvo of shells from powerful batteries hitherto well concealed in the dunes. The "Sunderland," being fairly close, seemed the special mark, for in six seconds she received as many direct hits. One of her funnels showed a jagged gash ten feet in length and was only prevented from toppling overboard by the steel-wire guys. A three-pounder gun, that fortunately was not manned, was blown completely from its mountings, while the rest of the shells passed clean through the unprotected parts of the ship, totally wrecking the ward-room and the stokers' mess-deck.
Terence felt a strong desire to make a hasty rush for the shelter of the conning-tower, for splinters were flying and wafts of pungent smoke from the hostile shells were drifting over the bridge, but the sight of his captain standing cool and collected and without a vestige of protection tended to restore his confidence.
With unabated fury her guns replied to the German fire. The "Sunderland" proved that she could receive as well as give hard knocks.
It was time to give the almost overheated starboard guns a chance to cool, so orders were given for the helm to be starboarded. Seeing the cruiser in the act of turning, a destroyer tore across her bows, purposely throwing out huge volumes of black smoke from her four funnels in order to mask the "Sunderland" as she circled.
Terence recognized the destroyer as his old ship the "Livingstone," as she darted swiftly round the turning cruiser, then, leaving a thick pall of smoke in her wake, hastened off to assist another destroyer that was evidently in difficulties.
The "Livingstone's" manoeuvre undoubtedly saved the "Sunderland" from destruction, for a fifty-two centimetre shell, aimed to hit the exact position where the cruiser would have been had she not altered course, struck the water with a tremendous splash not fifty yards on her beam.
Before the "Sunderland" had drawn clear of the friendly cloud of smoke she had increased her distance from shore by nearly five cables' lengths; while, until the German gunners had found the range anew, she was able to enjoy a brief respite.
"Seaplanes returning," announced the gunnery-lieutenant on the fire-control platform, who from his elevated post could command a wide and almost uninterrupted view.
Their task done, the seaplanes, which had been engaged in dropping bombs on the railway stations in the rear of the German batteries, were on their homeward way. Anxiously Terence counted them. Thank heaven! Not one was missing.
Apparently the last but one of the aerial procession was in difficulties, for the seaplane was rocking violently, and in spite of a dangerous tilt of the elevating planes was appreciably descending.
Suddenly the frail craft plunged, literally on end, towards the sea, the force of gravity, acting with the pull of the propeller, greatly increasing its velocity.
When within two hundred feet of the surface the seaplane made a complete loop, then after climbing a hundred feet or so, began to side-slip.
"By Jove! He'll be drowned for a dead cert," exclaimed Terence, for he knew for a fact that the aviator had not been thrown from the chassis when the seaplane "looped the loop," and in consequence must be strapped to his seat.
"Away sea-boat," ordered the captain, at the same time giving directions for both engines to be reversed.
The "Sunderland" was considerably the nearest warship to the descending airman. Already the "Livingstone" and her two sister-ship destroyers were a mile or so away, and wearing at full speed to investigate a suspicious swirl in the water.
Shells were again dropping unpleasantly near to the cruiser as Aubyn hurried towards the boat which was, owing to being cleared for action, secured inboard, abreast the after funnel.
Before he reached this spot the seaplane had struck the surface of the water. Falling obliquely and at a sharp angle, the impact had shattered one of the floats. When the cascade of spray had subsided the wrecked craft could be seen still afloat but listing acutely. The aviator had survived the shock and was hurriedly unbuckling the strap that held him to his seat.
"Boat's done for, sir," announced one of the would-be crew. Such was the case. The explosion of a shell had wrenched her keel and garboards out of her.
"Then overboard with that!" ordered Terence, indicating a Carley life-buoy, which, though scorched by the blast of the shells, was still practically intact.
The Carley life-buoy is a "new departure" in life-saving appliances on board ships of the Royal Navy. It is a glorified edition of an ordinary buoy, but elongated in shape and provided with gratings, and capable of being propelled by oars.
Half a dozen bluejackets seized the huge buoy and slung it overboard. Held by means of a line it floated alongside the cruiser until Terence and three men clambered into it.
Although the rate of propulsion was not by any means so rapid as that of a boat the progress of the rescuers was far from slow. More than once they were splashed by the spray thrown up by a ricochetting projectile, as the German gunlayers were gradually correcting their aim, yet unscathed the rescue party came alongside the gradually sinking seaplane.
"Hullo, Aubyn!" shouted a well-known voice.
The airman was Waynsford. In his pneumatic helmet and huge goggles he was unrecognizable, but his voice proclaimed his identity.
"Hurt, old man?" asked Terence.
"Not a bit," replied Waynsford coolly. "They clipped a couple of stays just as I was getting out of range. But we did the trick, by Jove! Blew the railway station to Jericho."
"Hurry up," interposed Terence. "She's going."
The young airman methodically gathered together several important instruments, and giving a final look round at the aircraft that had served him so faithfully, stepped into the waiting "Carley."
Before the men had pulled five yards the wrecked machine gave a lurch and capsized completely. Supported by trapped air in the partially intact float the seaplane sank slowly, and with hardly a ripple disappeared from view.
With the least possible delay rescuers and rescued were taken on board the cruiser. Gathering way the "Sunderland" steamed in a westerly direction in order to baffle the range of the shore batteries, using her after guns with terrific speed.
Somewhat unceremoniously leaving his friend Terence hastened towards the bridge. Just as he was abreast of the wreckage of the shattered funnel a deafening detonation, that completely surpassed the roar of the cruiser's guns, seemed to burst over his head. Staggering under the blast of the explosion and temporarily blinded by the pungent smoke, the lieutenant groped his way until his progress was checked by a jagged mass of plating rendered almost red-hot by the impact of a huge shell.
Recoiling, he stood stock still for quite thirty seconds, his senses numbed by the nerve-racking concussion. Then, as the smoke drifted away, he could discern the débris of the bridge. Charthouse, stanchions, semaphore, signal-lockers—all had vanished, and with them the captain and those of the officers and men who had dared fate by rejecting the shelter afforded by the conning-tower, which, stripped of its surroundings, stood out a gaunt, fire-pitted steel box.
The shell, a 42-centimetre, had literally cleared the forepart of the ship, from the for'ard 6-inch gun to the second funnel. Everything in its path had been literally pulverized, with the exception of the conning-tower. Had the projectile burst on or below the main deck the fate of the "Sunderland" would have been sealed; as it was, she was still intact under the waterline.
Instinctively Aubyn realized that the ship was not under control. Steaming rapidly she was heading towards the "Bradford"—her sister ship—which was steering in a north-easterly direction at about five cables' distance on her port bow.
With a tremendous effort of will-power Terence cleared at a bound the formidable glowing plate of metal that obstructed his path. Making his way across the scorched and splintered planks, some of which gave under his weight, he reached the entrance to the conning-tower.
The steel citadel was full of acrid-smelling smoke that eddied in the air-currents which drifted in through the observation slits.
Bending, and holding his left hand over his mouth and nostrils, Terence entered. As he did so he stumbled over the body of the quartermaster.
Propped against the circular walls were the first lieutenant and two seamen. All the occupants of the conning-tower had been overcome by the noxious fumes from the highly-charged projectile.
Gasping for fresh air Terence flung himself upon the steam-steering gear and put the helm hard over. A glimpse through one of the slits revealed the fact that the cruiser was answering to her helm. Yet so narrowly had a collision been averted that the "Sunderland's" starboard side was within twenty feet of the "Bradford's" port quarter as the two vessels swung apart.
The guns were now silent, for with the destruction of the foremast the fire-control platform and its occupants had been swept out of existence. The cruiser was temporarily out of action.
Terence was beginning to feel dizzy and faint. Why, he knew not. Perhaps it was the pungent fumes. Leaning over the mouthpiece of the speaking tube he ordered a couple of quartermasters to be sent to the conning-tower. He could hardly recognize the sound of his own voice. It seemed miles away.
Again he looked ahead. The cruiser was still drawing further and further out of range. Having satisfied himself on that score and that there was no fresh danger of colliding with any of the rest of the fleet, he staggered into the open air and leaned heavily against the outer wall of the conning-tower, He was barely conscious that the metal was still hot.
Up came the quartermasters. At their heels was a sub-lieutenant, his face grimed with smoke and his uniform torn.
"Take over, Garboard," ordered the lieutenant brokenly. "Report to the flagship and ask instructions. I'm feeling deucedly queer."
"Why, you're wounded!" exclaimed the sub-lieutenant, noticing a dark and increasing patch upon Aubyn's coat.
"Am I?" asked Terence incredulously.
Turning his head to ascertain the nature of his injury, of which hitherto he was unconscious, his shoulder slipped along the curved steel wall. Garboard was only just in time to save him from collapsing inertly upon the deck of the ship he had brought safely out of action.
"Congratulations, old man. You'll have to get your tailor to make some alteration in your uniform."
"What do you mean?" asked Terence.
Two months had elapsed since the day on which Lieutenant Aubyn had received a dangerous wound in his right side in the fight off Ostend.
He was sitting in the grounds of the Royal Naval Hospital at Chatham, having made a fairly rapid recovery.
The officer who offered his congratulations was Oswestry, the torpedo-lieutenant of the "Sunderland," who was also a convalescent, having managed to intercept a flying fragment of metal during the momentous engagement.
"Torps" flourished a newspaper with his left hand, for his right arm was in a sling.
"Stop press—Latest news and appointments," he read. "The Admiralty has approved of the following transfer. From R.N.R. to R.N.: Lieutenant Terence Aubyn, to date 3rd of June, 1915."
For a moment Terence looked incredulously at the torpedo-lieutenant. "Torps," he knew, was fond of a practical joke, but if he were playing a prank it was carrying the game a little too far.
"Here you are," continued Oswestry, noting the expression on Terence's face. "Read it for yourself."
"It's worth getting this," said Aubyn, indicating the position of his wound. "All I want now is to be afloat again."
"Young fire-eater!" exclaimed "Torps" facetiously. "Don't you worry—you'll have a look-in before The Day comes. By Jove, Aubyn, you'll have to ask the surgeon if he'll allow you to hold a fête——"
The crunching of boots upon the gravel path caused both officers to turn. Standing at attention was a Marine orderly; behind him a telegraph boy.
"Congratulations pouring in already," remarked "Torps."
Terence took the buff envelope and opened it.
"Great Scott!" he exclaimed brokenly, and without another word he handed the telegram to his companion.
"It never rains but it pours," quoted "Torps." "You'll attain Flag-rank in another fifteen years, mark my words. Lieutenant Aubyn, D.S.O."
The "wire" was a private tip from a personal friend at the Admiralty, informing Terence that His Majesty had been graciously pleased to bestow upon him the Distinguished Service Order for gallantry in bringing H.M.S. "Sunderland" out of action during operations off the Belgian coast.
"Torps" was not far short of the mark, for a D.S.O. almost invariably means a rapid promotion to the fortunate and heroic recipient.
"Flag-rank," echoed Terence. "There's plenty of time for that. Meanwhile, that's where duty calls," and with a wave of his hand he indicated the distant North Sea, on which the supreme contest for the supremacy of the waves will prove that the heritage of Nelson is still worthily upheld by Britannia's sons.
ABERDEEN: THE UNIVERSITY PRESS
Transcriber's Notes:
This book contains a number of misprints.
The following misprints have been corrected:
[the prisoner nonchalently.] —> [the prisoner nonchalantly.]
[to commuicate with wireless] —> [to communicate with wireless]
[was calculated to be from] —> [was calculated to be seen from]
[of what had occured,] —> [of what had occurred,]
[hostilites as a godsend] —> [hostilities as a godsend]
[its horribly slippery] —> [it's horribly slippery]
[the concusion had caused] —> [the concussion had caused]
[with the laudible intention] —> [with the laudable intention]
[he crosssd the line] —> [he crossed the line]
[the faintest attenion to] —> [the faintest attention to]
A few cases of punctuation errors were corrected, but are not
mentioned here.
A list of illustrations has been added.