The flag of Germany had already been swept from the seas. The lesson of the Dogger Bank to Grand Admiral von Tirpitz and his colleagues amounted to this: that it was not only a risky, but was likely to prove an exceedingly unprofitable undertaking, to operate with sea-going ships--whether battleships, cruisers or destroyers--far from the security of the Kiel Canal.
[CHAPTER XXVIII--The Wounded "Lion"]
As the battle rolled away in the distance, and the smoke of the great fighting ships grew faint beyond the southern skyline, Captain Crouch and Jimmy Burke remained standing together on the forecastle peak of the half-wrecked cargo ship. Not a word had been spoken for some time. It was Crouch who was the first to find his voice.
"All my life I've been proud of one thing," said he: "that I was born a Britisher. I was always sort of sorry for a dago of any kind. But, half-an-hour ago, when I saw the 'Lion' and the 'Tiger' come charging into action, I felt something in my throat, my lad, that I never felt before. It was just wonderful and splendid. War, nowadays, isn't so much a matter of physical strength and courage as a question of national wealth, industry and invention; we live in a scientific age. And, take it from me, a ship like the 'Tiger' is a kind of eighth wonder of the modern world."
"I suppose," said Jimmy, "that what you say is true; things have changed since men fought with cutlasses and boarded enemy ships. It's more terrible to-day--and marvellous."
"So it seems to me, too," said Captain Crouch. "And now, this is no time to stand idle; there's much for both of us to do. Firstly, we must look to the wounded--and I'm afraid there are more than enough on board. Secondly, we must see if anything can be done to get the engines under way."
Accordingly, then and there, they went down into the engine-room, which they found in a state of chaos. As we know, the chief engineer had been killed; but, in the alley-way on the starboard side they encountered the second engineer, whose head was done up in a bandage. He had been knocked down by the force of an exploding shell, and his head cut open against an iron stanchion.
It was he, with Crouch and Jimmy Burke, who gathered together as many of the ship's hands as they could find in a fit state to do an hour's honest work. They removed such of the smaller parts of the machinery as had been thrown out of gear, when the total amount of damage done could be estimated. It was at once evident that there was no possibility whatsoever of the engines being repaired. Moreover, how the old ship remained afloat was little short of a miracle. They could hope for nothing but to be found either by the British squadron returning to home waters or some ship bound for Newcastle, Leith or Hull.
As far as the wounded were concerned, they were able to do much. Crouch took possession of the ship's medicine chest, and soon proved that he had a passable knowledge of both surgery and medicine. A man who has spent a great part of his life in the wilderness of Central Africa is not likely to be wholly ignorant as far as drugs are concerned.
More than a fifth of the crew had been killed; and many of the wounded had received the most ghastly injuries. The modern rifle bullet is a humane means of waging war. Being nickel-plated it gives a clean wound, which under ordinary conditions will heal rapidly. If it kills, it kills instantly, and as often as not without pain. Shell fire, however, is very different. Leaden shrapnel bullets are both large, rough-edged, and liable to cause gangrene in those who are not in the best of health. Common shell, charged with high explosives, causes infinite damage; and on board steel-plated ships, or in the vicinity of houses, men are horribly maimed and wounded by fragments of masonry and iron, by flying stones and splintered woodwork.