There was no cheering. All signs of elation over the victory were checked by the sight of the shell-torn cruiser about to make her last plunge.
The "Heracles" made no attempt to close until it was evident that the doomed ship was unable to deliver a last, desperate stroke in the shape of a torpedo, then slowly the cruiser steamed towards her opponent to rescue the survivors of her crew.
The British cruiser had only two boats capable of keeping afloat, and these only by means of temporary expedient in the shape of copper sheets and strips of painted canvas tacked over the jagged holes in the planking. But Jack Tar was not to be baulked in his humane efforts. Mess-tables and stools, empty petrol-cans, lifebuoys and lifebelts were pressed into service and carried on deck ready to be cast overboard to support the swimmers.
Suddenly two enormous waterspouts leapt high in the air, one on either side and close to the British cruiser. An ear-splitting detonation followed almost simultaneously, as the "Heracles," trembling violently under the shock, lurched heavily to port.
In the moment of victory she had been mined.
CHAPTER XXV
IN THE MOMENT OF TRIUMPH
Almost stunned by the terrific blast of air, Tressidar, who had been looking down from the fire-control platform, was at first hardly able to realise what had taken place. Not until he was aroused by Midshipman Picklecombe's voice asking faintly for aid did the seriousness of the situation dawn upon him.
The "Heracles" was foundering. The distinct, ever-increasing heel of the platform on which he stood proved that. There was no recovery to the cruiser's list to port.