"By Jove!" exclaimed the sub gleefully, as a babel of voices shouting in a guttural jargon came from the rammed ship. "I was right. They are Austrians."
By hitting the enemy craft bows on Farrar had reduced the risk of the "Zenodorus" being torpedoed to a minimum. At the best a torpedo fired at close range could only strike a glancing blow, even supposing the broadside tube could be trained sufficiently ahead to bear upon the British vessel. So terrific had been the impact that the crumpled bow-plates of the "Zenodorus" were within four or six feet of the Austrian's foremast, while before both vessels lost way the former had swung round until she was at right angles to the latter's fore and aft plane.
All the time the "Zenodorus" was running her powerful engines full speed ahead. This had the effect of keeping the sharp wedge of her bows fixed in the gaping hole in her antagonist's side.
"On searchlights!" roared a voice that Farrar recognised as his captain's. Within twenty seconds of the impact Lieutenant-Commander Aubyn was on the bridge to direct operations.
A spurt of flame leapt from one of the after quick-firers on the Austrian's starboard quarter, and a shell burst under the British vessel's poop. It was a sign that the Austrian gunners were recovering from the panic into which they had been thrown by the unexpected manoeuvre of the "Zenodorus."
Lieutenant-Commander Aubyn forbore to give the order to open fire, lest the enemy ship's magazine might explode and send both vessels to a common fate, With the intention of drawing clear and taking up a position on the Austrian's port bow, he telegraphed first for "stop," then "half speed astern."
Before the "Zenodorus" could back away a score or more of the enemy clambered upon her fo'c'sle. For the moment Farrar, as well as several others of the officers and crew, was under the impression that the men were endeavouring to save themselves by gaining the deck of the ramming vessel, since it was practically a foregone conclusion that their own craft would founder rapidly when the "Zenodorus" backed clear of the huge rent in her side.
Eager to save life several of the crew went to the assistance of their foes, only to make the discovery that the "Zenodorus" was boarded by a swarm of armed and determined men, headed by a tall, powerfully-built officer, brandishing an automatic pistol in each hand.
"Repel boarders!" shouted Aubyn in stentorian tones, giving a command that only on extremely rare occasions has been heard by a British crew in action since the days of the old Wooden Walls. But a lapse of over seventy years has not changed the enthusiasm of the British tar for a hand-to-hand tumble with cold steel. Gone were the old eight-foot pikes, the keen-edged boarding axes, and the unreliable flint-lock pistols, but with their modern counterparts the bluejackets surged for'ard in a cheering, yelling, irresistible rush.
With the two powerful searchlights to aid them—for the boarders fought with the dazzling glare full in their eyes—the "Zenodorus's" men made short work of their opponents. The Austrian officer went down with a cutlass through his chest, but not before he had killed one and wounded three of his foes. A dozen of his men lay dead upon the deck, while others, attempting to flee, found their retreat had been cut off by the "Zenodorus" backing away from her prey. Seeing that their case was hopeless they laid down their arms.