The alley-way terminated at a ladder which led to the deck. Flanking this ladder, to port and starboard, were two closed doors. Fay went up and lifted a hatch. He staggered to the duck-boards and gripped an iron railing. He glanced about with his eyes widening at the wilderness of water and fog and spindrift.
The super-destroyer was knifing westward like a hurtled javelin. Her four funnels belched fire and oily smoke. Her superstructure of nested boats, ventilators, pilot-house, chart-house, battened guns and two taper signal-masts vibrated and throbbed under the steady hammering of the high-speed engines.
The dawn was breaking to the eastward. A yellow light was on the fog. A sea bird wheeled and fell astern. A great wave curled the sharp bow, combed the flush decks and seethed to leeward.
Fay wound his fingers about the rail and turned until he faced the after part of the destroyer. A few of the crew were on deck. They crouched in the lee of shelters. The stern gun had a jaunty tilt to its long muzzle. A mark showed on the sponson where a German shell had exploded.
Saidee Isaacs appeared in oil-skins and a yellow
southwester. She was followed by the lean form of MacKeenon. They worked forward and stood by Fay’s side. They swayed with the movements of the fast-flying destroyer.
“Yon is Scotland,� said MacKeenon. “Ye are in the heart of the North Sea.�
“Where do we land?� asked Fay.
“The Firth o’ Tay—at Dundee or Perth.â€�
Saidee Isaacs pulled down the brim of her southwester and stared forward. She pressed her fingers against Fay’s arm.