For perhaps twenty seconds Meredith lay on the deck striving to recollect where he was and how he came there. A red mist swam before his eyes, then it cleared, and he saw Ainslie's body once more.
There were rents on the deck. The whole fabric of the vessel was throbbing under the continued concussions. Q 171 was turning in a wide circle to starboard, exposing the whole of her broadside to the hostile fire.
With an effort Meredith freed his legs, and by the aid of the shoulder-piece of the now silent after quick-firer regained his feet. As he did so a man, grimy and blood-stained, lurched aft.
"Cap'n's down, sir," he reported. "Steering-gear carried away.... There's the hand-gear, sir."
Heavens! Morpeth down, Ainslie killed, Wakefield nowhere to be seen. The responsibility of fighting Q 171 to a finish had fallen upon the supernumerary, Sub-lieutenant Kenneth Meredith.
Staggering right aft, the Sub, assisted by the bluejacket who had reported to him, contrived to unshackle the useless wires from the heavy tiller. Then in answer to a powerful heave on the metal bar the boat began to swing once more to port.
Standing up, Meredith gave directions by gesture to the emergency helmsman. It was impossible to be understood otherwise, so terrific was the din, and, apart from that, Meredith's throat was so dry that he was unable to utter a sound.
Rapidly the Sub took in the situation. Morpeth's idea was to "cross the tee" of the approaching line of torpedo boats, which had changed their course so that the rearmost boat was now leading the flotilla. The demolition of the steering-gear, and Morpeth being knocked out of action, had temporarily thwarted the manoeuvre, but there was yet time to mend matters. The steady pulsations of the motors showed that below decks the badly battered vessel was still making good. For'ard a solitary gun was barking at wide intervals, keeping up a sullen and determined show of defiance. Otherwise the whole length of deck resembled, as far as the eddying smoke permitted, a gaunt and hideous charnel-house.
"Fritz has got to have it in the neck," thought Meredith. "Here goes!"
Conning the still swiftly moving Q-boat, he made straight for the leading German vessel. The latter held stubbornly on her course, at the same time masking the fire of her consorts astern.