There was still life to be saved. More than a score of the German crew were swimming strongly.
"Out with the boats!" shouted the master of the "Asphodel."
A dozen willing hands helped to launch the hefty boat which was stowed bottom upwards on the trawler's deck. With a loud splash she was thrust overboard and volunteers hastily tumbled into her. Already the boats of the barque were heading towards the spot marked by bobbing heads of the swimmers. The seamen knew that, but for a fortunate change of circumstances they might be swimming for dear life and jeered at by the crew of the submarine into the bargain but petty spite and recriminations are not to be found in the creed of true British seamen.
Long before the "Myrtle" and "Cinema" came up, every one of the swimmers had been rescued, and since the crew of the barque dumped their living cargoes into the "Asphodel," the latter's decks were packed with humanity. Round every half-drowned German a dozen British tars, all more or less sympathetic, were gathered, doing their utmost to assist their foes.
"Smart shot, Mr. Aubyn," sang out the captain of the "Livingstone," as his temporary command shot up into the wind within easy hailing distance. "Your gun-layer took good care not to let us have a finger in the pie."
"We acted under your orders, sir," replied Terence.
"You did," admitted the captain, with a hearty laugh. "You did, but you might have given the others a chip in. They hardly—why, what's that?"
He broke off suddenly at the sound of a terrific cheer. The barque had now gathered way. Her sails had been sheeted home. The weather shrouds were black with men who were cheering the three trawlers with all the force of their lungs, while aft stood the old skipper, waving his cap with the vivacity of a schoolboy.
Considering the unusual means whereby the German submarine had been destroyed, the necessity of keeping the incident a secret, until the Press Bureau thought fit to dole out another morsel of information, was most desirable. There was also another reason. The enemy must not know of the actual circumstances, otherwise the submarines still at large would take steps to prevent a similar surprise.
So the crews, both temporary and permanent, of the three trawlers were mustered and sworn to secrecy, their respective naval officers impressing upon the Brixham men the fact that, being an Admiralty chartered vessel (this was a piece of pure bluff) they were liable to the pains and penalties of the Naval Discipline Act, the Official Secrets Act, and a dozen other statutes passed for the safety, honour, and welfare of the King's dominions.