CHAPTER XIV
Sunk in Collision
It was a dark, windless night. The Titania, under power, was gliding through the tranquil waters of the Red Sea. The port watch had just been relieved, and Bobby Beverley, having "handed over" to Jack Villiers, lingered on the deck to have a yarn with his particular chum.
Already the port of Hodeida was left on the port quarter. Ahead lay the reefs surrounding the dangerous Hanish Islands. Two miles astern could be discerned the red, green, and white lights of a vessel that was obviously overhauling the Titania hand over fist.
"Mail boat—P. & O. most likely," observed Beverley. "We needn't worry about her—she's the overtaking vessel. Shan't be sorry to get clear of the Red Sea. Too many Arab dhows sculling around without lights to my fancy."
"Enough to give a Board of Trade examiner a puzzler for the 'Rule of the Road' stunt," remarked Villiers. "Do you remember that white-bearded old buffer? I suppose it was the same fellow who examined you. Tried to catch me out with the 'single red light on my starboard bow', but I tumbled to it just in time. Narrow squeak, though."
"I remember him," replied Beverley. "He gave me a regular galaxy of light, and asked what I would do. 'Put my helm hard down and clear out', I told him. 'The best course, too', he agreed."
"After knocking about at sea without lights for three years," said Beverley, "it does seem a bit awkward to find yourself up against 'em. Something like that prisoner in the Bastille who asked to be shut up again after he was released. Question of use, I suppose."
"Light on the port bow, sir," sung out Merridew.
At that distance only a red and a white light were visible, but by the aid of his binoculars Villiers saw the gleam of the starboard light.
"Port helm," he ordered.
The Titania and the approaching vessel cleared each other easily, but Villiers had little time to pay further attention to her. Ahead were a number of dhows, strung out in an irregular line, practically motionless in the flat calm.
"Good heavens, what's that!" ejaculated Bobby. "There's an almighty smash."
How it occurred was a mystery, but the fact remained that the overtaking liner and the vessel that had just passed the Titania were in collision. It was one of those instances that have taken place and will take place in the future—unaccountable yet none the less disastrous. In clear weather and in a perfectly calm sea two steamers crashed into each other.
Above the noise of grinding steel and the hiss of escaping steam came a clamorous panic-stricken yell from hundreds of throats.
"Not British this time," commented Jack, as he ordered the helm to be put hard over and the boats swung out ready for lowering.
"Get the searchlights running, Bobby," he added, "and inform the Old Man."
But the Old Man was at that moment bounding up the companion-ladder, a conspicuous figure in his white drill uniform.
Directly the two brilliant beams of the searchlights were brought into action Harborough took in the situation at a glance.
One of the colliding vessels was a liner. She was badly damaged for'ard and was deep down by the bows. The other, a chartered Belgian steamer conveying Mussulman pilgrims to Jiddah, the port of the Holy City of Mecca, had already sunk, having been cut completely in two by the impact.
"Have those boats swung inboard again, Mr. Villiers," he ordered. "We'll lay right alongside that fellow. There'll be time before she goes."
Villiers understood. The lessons learnt in the North Sea, where it was an everyday task to place an M.L. alongside a huge lumbering tramp, were not forgotten. To avoid delay in rescuing human lives Harborough had ordered the Titania to be manoeuvred alongside the foundering liner.
Even under normal conditions it would have been no easy task, but the difficulties were increased tenfold, for while the colliding vessels remained locked together, nearly a hundred frantic Mussulmans had succeeded in clambering over the liner's shattered bows to find but a temporary refuge on her decks. These, in addition to a very cosmopolitan assortment of passengers, were already out of hand, despite the firm efforts of the liner's officers and crew to maintain discipline. There was a wild stampede for the boats—Arabs and Europeans mingled in a suicidal and homicidal rush, with the result that by the time the Titania was within hailing distance one boat only had been successfully lowered. The rest had either capsized or were hanging vertically from the davits. Those of the passengers who yet remained on board were either made of sterner stuff or else they had been tamed by the sight of the fate that had befallen the frenzied mob. As for the officers and crew of the foundering vessel, they were doing their best to try and preserve order, but the sudden addition of a swarm of pilgrims rendered their task almost superhuman.
Taking the helm, Harborough adroitly manoeuvred the Titania until she lost way within ten yards of the sinking vessel. Instantly there was another rush on the part of the utterly demoralized Mussulmans.
"Women and children first!" roared Harborough. "Does anyone on board speak Swahili or Arabic? If so, tell those blacks to keep back. I'll shoot the first man who jumps without permission."
Apparently some of the pilgrims understood English, or else they guessed the purport of Harborough's words. Calm again succeeded the paroxysm of cowardice.
Carefully avoiding the outswung davits of the huge vessel, Harborough brought the Titania alongside so neatly and carefully that there was hardly any need to employ fenders to absorb the shock. Even though the ship was foundering she towered high above the yacht, thereby rendering the task of transhipping the survivors a somewhat difficult one. Had there been any sea running the operation would have been hazardous, but lifting upon the very gentle swell the vessels, large and small, lay almost motionless, although momentarily the former was settling deeper and deeper by the head.
Half a dozen women and children were the first to be received on board the yacht. Then came thirty or forty passengers, mostly French, but with a sprinkling of Italians and Dutchmen. Then the survivors of the pilgrim-ship were allowed on board, where, thinking themselves safe, they squatted on deck and took no further interest in the proceedings, or, if they did, they concealed it under a cloak of Oriental impassivity. Then followed the crew, most of whom had found time to collect their personal belongings, for nearly every man held a bundle made of a coloured handkerchief filled to its utmost capacity. Last of all came the officers, the dark-featured, white-haired Breton captain bringing up the rear.
He seemed reluctant to leave, and not until Harborough shouted a warning did the little Frenchman leap. It was not a moment too soon, for by this time the liner's bows were awash and water was entering the boiler-rooms.
The Titania, her decks resembling a Bank Holiday Margate steamer, and submerged two feet above her water-line, backed slowly away, keeping her searchlight still running in the hope that they might see other survivors from the sunken pilgrim-ship.
"We're lucky," remarked Harborough to Villiers. "Decidedly lucky, otherwise I wouldn't give much for our chances if there had been a sea running. By Jove! What a pack. Makes one think of the good old days when Fritz started running amok with his U-boats."
"What are we doing with this lot, sir?" asked Jack.
"Run 'em into Massowah," replied the skipper of the Titania. "Seems to be the easier way out of the difficulty. Massowah's a bit out of our course, but it's an Italian port. They can't detain us to give evidence in a Court of Inquiry. At Aden we might be held up. Hallo! There she goes."
The French liner Cité d'Arras was on the point of disappearing. With the Titania's searchlights flashed upon the scene, her stricken hull looked as though it were fashioned of silver. Her stern was high out of the water, and, after the Titania had pushed off, she had developed a terrific list to starboard.
A hush fell upon the crowd on the Titania's deck. All eyes were directed upon the sinking vessel, even the Mussulmans abandoning their hitherto impassive attitude to gaze upon the scene.
Steam was still issuing in dense clouds from her boiler-rooms; jets of water expelled by compressed air leapt high above her listing masts as the eddying, foaming water encroached upon her decks.
Then, with a movement not unlike the convulsive spring of a mortally wounded animal, the stricken craft lifted until her twin-propellers were clear of the water. For perhaps ten seconds she remained thus; then, to the accompaniment of a loud roar as her displaced boilers exploded, she disappeared from sight.
Harborough rang for full speed ahead.