Even in the midst of peril the heart of the stout old merchant skipper never failed him. Immediately his ship had been torpedoed, he steered towards the distant shore, hoping against hope to beach his vessel on the iron-bound Cornish coast.
In less than ten minutes it was obvious that the attempt was in vain. The "Syntax" was settling rapidly by the bows. Already the stern was so high out of the water that the boss of the swiftly-revolving propeller was visible amidst the cascades of spray churned up by the blades.
Presently the propeller ceased to revolve. Not until the water was over the level of the engine-bed did the skipper give orders for the engine-room staff to save themselves. Up on deck they poured, hurriedly yet without undue confusion. The boats were already swung out and made ready to lower.
So sluggish was the partly-flooded vessel that she lost way rapidly. One by one the boats were lowered, and the disengaging gear of the falls cast off without a hitch. The old skipper was the last to leave. With the ship's papers thrust inside his buttoned, weather-beaten coat, he waved a salute to the destroyer that had attended the "Syntax" in vain, then slid down into one of the boats.
Before the boat had rowed a dozen lengths from the ship, the "Syntax" all but disappeared from view, boisterously, amid a series of veiled explosions as the compressed air burst from her seams. Amidst a miniature maelstrom the stern hung irresolute for a brief instant, with the red ensign still fluttering in the calm air. Then, with a quick dive, the emblem of the Mercantile Marine vanished from view.
"Shall I take you in tow?" shouted the lieutenant-commander of the "Livingstone."
"Better not, sir," replied the "old man." "That skulking submarine may be showing her snout again. Another couple of yards and I would have given her a bump. No, sir, we're all right. Sea's calm. All being well we'll land at Sennen Cove before another couple of hours.
"There's pluck," commented Gilroy. "I always had a certain respect for the Mercantile Marine, and after this, by Jove——"
Terence made no reply. He was thinking regretfully of that magnificent specimen of British construction lying fathoms deep, a victim to the brutal violation of all conventions and compacts of modern civilization.