“Battle and battle cruiser squadrons and light cruisers raise steam for full speed with all dispatch. Report by squadrons when ready. Nth Battle Squadron, destroyers, and submarines proceed instantly and rendezvous in execution of previous orders.” The echoes broke back from the quiet hills and died away.
“Gee!” muttered an irrepressible American ship. “Hold tight, Emma! we’re off!”
“Gate!” yelped the destroyers, “stand by the gates!” and presently they sped forth to meet the dawn and their destiny. The grinding sound of cables crawling through the hawsepipes as the squadrons shortened in filled the harbour. The dark water eddied and swirled as each ship tried her engines; then one by one from the flagships of squadrons came the deep-toned “Ready, aye, ready!”
Each time, like the chanted responses to a litany, the hospital ships echoed “God go with you!” So the last hour of night passed.
Outside, as the dawn was paling in the sky, the night patrols encountered the van of the battle fleet forming up across the waste of grey waters beneath its pall of smoke.
“St. George!” rang the challenge. In one great breath came the fleet’s reply:
CHAPTER XIV
THE EPIC OF ST. GEORGE’S DAY, 1918
“ ... Let a plain statement suffice.”—Rudyard Kipling.