Slowly and sluggishly the Aud answered her helm. She had barely steerage way.
'All hands to quarters! Ready with the fuses and incendiary bombs! Stand by to run up the ensign!' Every man was at his post ready for the signal.
We were now within 800 yards of the steamer. Then the unexpected happened. Presumably in consequence of a signal from the Bluebell, on the bridge of which a signalman was busily semaphoring, the steamer suddenly put her helm hard a-starboard, passing us and the cruiser in a wide sweep. So our plan of ramming her was frustrated. Our luck appeared to be right out. Two hundred yards more to the lightship!—150!—100! Eagerly we scanned the surface for the last time, but no periscope was visible.
There was nothing else for it then.
'All ready?' 'All ready!' was the answer from the engine-room and deck. The hands who were not employed were standing unobtrusively in the neighbourhood of the ship's boats. These they had lowered to the height of the ship's rail, lying on their stomachs so as to avoid being observed by the enemy. It might still be possible to make use of them. From the engine-room came sounds of violent hammering—the condenser was being smashed, and there was no retreating now.
'Hard a-starboard!' The engine-room telegraph rang three times in succession, 'Stop!'
This was the pre-arranged signal. With a last effort the Aud swung slowly to starboard and lay exactly across the channel. The ship's pendant was already waving from the main-mast, and next moment the German naval ensign was run up, bidding defiance to the English and all their works. Jackets and greatcoats flew overboard. Three cheers for our supreme War Lord! Then there was a muffled explosion. The Aud shivered from stem to stern, beams and splinters flew up in the air, followed by a cloud of dirty-gray smoke, and flames burst forth from the saloon, the charthouse, the ventilators, and the forecastle. That was all we had time to notice. 'All hands to the boats!' We might be able to get away from the ship before the munitions exploded.
The port side boat, under command of the first mate, had already pushed off, as the starboard boat was just being lowered. 'All away?' 'Ay, ay, sir!' was the answer from the boats. The engineer, the second mate, the helmsman, and I were the last to clamber down. We cut the painter with an axe, and it was high time we did, for within a few feet of our boat was the 'conjurer's box,' which still contained a dozen explosive bombs. The stern was already low in the water, and we were just pushing off when a stoker came running from the burning forecastle with some large object under his arm.
'Good heavens, man, what are you doing on board?'
'I've saved the gramophone,' he shouted, as he swung himself down with the agility of a monkey and plumped into the boat like a sack. But the gramophone which he had rescued at such risk fell into the water and was no more seen.