"The battle-cruisers will head them off yet, sir," suggested Gilroy confidently.
"I hope so—ha! what's this?"
A signalman had just hurried up.
"Destroyers to take up position on battle-cruiser's port quarter," said the skipper. "Confound it! That's put the pot on it, Gilroy."
"It's our smoke, sir, that's troubling the 'Lion,'" replied the lieutenant.
Dawn had now broken sufficiently to discern the lofty hulls, triple funnels, and masts of the five battle-cruisers, as they raced at their maximum speed on a south-easterly course. The four guns of the two foremost superimposed turrets of the "Lion" were already trained to their greatest elevation, awaiting the report of the fire-control platform that their quarry was within hitting distance.
Gilroy was right. The smoke from the destroyers was drifting across the line of fire of the giant ships.
"It's a case of get out and get under—their lee," commented the lieutenant-commander, as a signal was sent up from the parent ship of the flotilla ordering the destroyers to fall back out of the way of the hard-hitters of the fleet.
As the day dawned the thick haze of smoke that marked the position of the runaway raiders could be seen, although from the bridge of the destroyer the hostile ships were invisible. The cannonading away to the sou'-east had now ceased; apparently the enemy torpedo-boats had attained a temporary security under the wing of their larger craft. Suddenly Terence remembered that he had not had his breakfast. Although it was not his watch, excitement had kept him on deck, and now in the lull the workings of the inner man demanded attention. It was a quarter to nine when he entered the mess. Three minutes later, before the steward had time to bring in the coffee, a terrific detonation caused the "Livingstone" to shake like an aspen leaf.
Breakfast completely forgotten, the sub. dashed on deck. He knew what had happened: the "Lion" had fired the opening shot of the engagement with one of her monster 13.5-in. guns.