Looking ahead, he could just see the next ship as an intense black blur against the lighter darkness of the sky and sea. Astern came another ponderous mass. The intervals seemed dangerously close, but the officer of the watch showed no anxiety. On the contrary, he stood at the standard compass on the upper bridge, using his binoculars every now and then, and giving occasional muffled orders in a calm voice through the voice-pipe communicating with the man stationed at the engine-room revolution telegraph below. Even the captain and the navigator, who were up there as well, did not seem to be taking things very seriously, though in reality they both had their weather-eyes very much lifting, and were using their glasses constantly. They were always on very friendly terms, and were carrying on an animated conversation about nothing more important than—golf!
'Well, sir,' Colomb was chuckling, 'if your putting hadn't been so bad you'd have knocked me endways. You were shocking on the greens.'
'Yes; but you wait till I get used to that new putter of mine,' the skipper returned, not in the least offended. 'I botched every single putt, and if I hadn't done that—— Hallo!' he suddenly broke off, sniffing; 'd'you smell that?'
'That' was a pungent whiff of crude petroleum floating down from windward, and Captain Spencer knew well enough that it meant the attacking craft were somewhere fairly close. The greater number of modern destroyers consume nothing but oil-fuel in their furnaces, and in a strong wind the reek of its burning can often be smelt for several miles.
'M'yes. They're pretty close, sir,' Colomb agreed.
'Keep your eyes skinned, officer of the watch,' the captain cautioned, busy with his own glasses. 'Warn the group officers and guns' crews!'
'Ay, ay, sir,' said the lieutenant, pressing a push by his side, which caused an alarm-bell to sound at all the anti-torpedo-craft guns throughout the ship.
For some minutes there was silence, broken only by the humming of the wind through the rigging and the liquid plop of breaking seas. But all the time the smell of oil-fuel became gradually stronger; and then, quite suddenly, the flagship—two ships ahead—switched on a searchlight. She had seen something!
The powerful blue-white beam flickered out, swung round slightly, and then fell on a black phantom shape rushing through the water. She was a destroyer, and came along with the wind and sea dead astern; but even then sheets of spray were flying over her low decks and bridge.
Martin held his breath.