The "Stoshfeld" during the course of the running fight had thrown overboard a number of mines, each pair connected by a hundred feet length of grass-rope. By sheer good luck her pursuer had missed the lot until she began to steam slowly to the assistance of her foe. Then, her stem engaged in the bight of the rope, two cylinders filled with powerful explosive had been swung against either side, the mines going off on contact with the cruiser's hull.
After the explosion the crew, at first thrown into confusion by the terrific din and the havoc wrought 'tween decks, were hardly able to grip the situation until a bugle sounded the "Still" and the men mustered quietly on the quarter-deck. Orders had been sent to the engine-room to shut off steam and open the safety-valves. The "Heracles," her propellers now motionless—whereby a serious menace to the crew of the foundering vessel was averted—quickly lost way, and making a half-circle to starboard came to a standstill at a distance roughly three thousand yards from her antagonist.
The "Stoshfeld" was now keel uppermost. A couple of hundred of her men had clustered on her bilge-plates, viewing with consternation the result of their own action; for with the mining of the British cruiser all hopes of rescue vanished.
On hearing the midshipman call, Tressidar turned. The two officers were alone, the gunnery lieutenant having left the fire-control platform with some of the instruments that had suffered slight damage from concussion during the bombardment, while the seamen told off to attend to the telephones had followed the lieutenant.
Picklecombe was lying in a corner of the rectangular platform. Blood was oozing from a gash in the midshipman's left shoulder. A sliver of steel, hurled to an immense height, had in falling completely penetrated the light metal canopy and had inflicted a severe wound on the lad who was standing beneath.
The sub. acted promptly. He knew that delay would mean that the helpless midshipman would be trapped within the metal cage and carried down when the ship made her last plunge. The only way of escape was through a small aperture on the floor leading to the uppermost ratlines of the shrouds—and the opening was sufficient only for one man at a time.
Unclasping his knife, Tressidar cut some of the canvas gear into a long strip. The fabric was strong and tough. It formed an admirable sling.
The next step was to lower Picklecombe through the trap-door.
"Can you hang on?" asked the sub
"I think so," replied the midshipman. "I'll try."