Even as the British armed merchant-cruiser gathered sternway a torpedo, gleaming silvery white in the glare of the searchlight, leapt from a tube in the enemy's main deck. Disappearing beneath the waves amidst a cascade of glistening spray the missile almost grazed the British vessel's port quarter, and missing her stern post, by inches, harmlessly finished its run five miles from the scene of the encounter.
It was the hostile craft's last bolt. So great was the inrush of water that her fo'c'sle was awash. Heeling more and more she lay right over on her beam ends, the surviving members of her crew clambering up the now horizontal starboard side. Then, with a muffled roar, her boilers exploded, completely severing the hull into two parts. The for'ard portions already waterlogged, sank like a stone. The remaining part of the hull, turning completely over, remained in view for nearly five minutes, until, with very little commotion, it too disappeared from view, leaving the agitated water dotted with the heads of nearly a hundred survivors.
Already every available boat had been lowered from the "Zenodorus." The quarter boats had been smashed by the solitary shell that had exploded on her poop. Nevertheless the crew were instrumental in saving seventy of the foes, many of whom were in a state of extreme exhaustion.
"Seven feet of water in the forehold, sir," reported the carpenter, who, upon the conclusion of the action, had gone below to ascertain the amount of material damage below the water-line.
"Stokehold for'ard bulkhead holding?" inquired the captain anxiously.
"Yes, sir; tight as a bottle; but our bows are properly stove in."
Aubyn turned to the officer of the watch.
"Did you give the order to ram?" he asked.
"No, sir," replied the lieutenant. "I was in the chart-room at the time. Mr. Farrar was sub of the watch."
Rather dubious as to his reception Farrar stood at attention before his skipper and made his report—straight to the point and avoiding all unnecessary details.