Lord Stanningborough had been a prominent member of a committee of Imperial Defence, and had been submitted to a severe criticism for his outspoken utterances at the time of the three-power standard controversy. Even his personal friends treated him as a harmless fanatic, while the Government of the day ignored his well-meant warnings. At last, in utter disgust, Lord Stanningborough announced his intention of undertaking a big-game expedition to Uganda, and within a month of landing in Africa all traces of him had vanished. But Gerald Tregarthen understood; Captain Brookes was to remain Captain Brookes till his life's work was completed.
A bugle sounded "General quarters." From his position in the conning-tower Gerald could see the ungainly lattice-work masts of Admiral Neboff's division showing just above the horizon.
"Independent firing, foremost turret," ordered Captain Brookes, as an 11in. shell from a partially disabled ship ricochetted harmlessly a hundred yards across the Olive Branch's bows.
"That's done it," he exclaimed, as the hostile vessel disappeared from view. "Now for the enemy's flanking ships."
Neboff had witnessed the arrival of the redoubtable cruiser. He had been duped; the Olive Branch had not been annihilated but had arrived at a critical moment.
A signal fluttered from the flagship of the vice-admiral's division. Every available 11in. and 14in. gun was to be trained and fired simultaneously at the Olive Branch in the hope of sending her to the bottom.
For the space of twelve seconds over fifty heavy shells were hurtling through the air at a velocity of considerably more than a thousand yards a second. But the gun-layers had forgotten one important consideration; they had omitted to make due allowance for the cruiser's abnormal speed, and, with one exception, the projectiles fell harmlessly astern, thrashing the sunlit water into a cauldron of foam.
The shell that struck home—a 14in. missile—simply swept the whole of the afterpart of the Olive Branch out of existence. Everything above the armoured deck and abaft the rearmost gun-turret was blown away, the concussion shaking the cruiser from stem to stern.
"The bos'un to sound and report state of hull," ordered Captain Brookes; "then take necessary steps to keep the leak under."
"The range?" he continued, as he bent over the ZZ-rays indicator.