Fifteen seconds later the torpedo got home, literally blowing the Hun in twain.
Meredith saw the Q-boat's last blow. Defiantly, almost exultantly, he drew himself to full height, then a blinding flash seemed to leap from beneath his feet, and he toppled unconscious upon the deck.
CHAPTER XXVII
BATTERED BUT UNDAUNTED
"Fore-control, there! Anything to report?"
It was ten and a half hours after the light-cruiser squadron had left Auldhaig. At thirty knots the light cruisers were approaching the rendezvous mentioned in their sealed orders—orders that were no longer secret, since they were opened and communicated within one hour of clearing harbour.
On either side of the cruisers, which were steaming in double column line ahead, were the destroyers—long, lean, and eager to be released from the leash that held them to that comparatively modest thirty knots.
For the sixth time in the last hour the Commodore had asked the question. His impatience was natural. Visibility was good, and from the lofty eerie of the fore-control platform a wide expanse of horizon lay revealed.
Before the fore-control could reply, the navigating lieutenant, who was standing by the Commodore on the bridge, threw back his head and listened intently.