Deftly, and without the faintest suspicion of panic, the crew took to the boats and rafts. The survivors of the engine-room staff, coming straight from the heated and confined space below, were ill-conditioned to withstand the bitter coldness of the night. Lightly-clad they stuck it, accepting with grimly-expressed thanks the offers of additional clothing from their better-clad messmates.
From the first it was apparent that the boats and Carley rafts were insufficient to accommodate all the ship's company, yet not a man moved out of his turn. Donning lifebelts, those who were unable to take to the boats, without risk of overcrowding and endangering the lives of their messmates, prepared for their long swim, confident that help would be assuredly forthcoming to "hike them out of the ditch".
"Pull clear, men!" shouted Trevannion. "Good luck!"
Standing at the head of the bridge-ladder, and holding on to the stanchion-rail, for the destroyer was listing excessively, Seton watched the scene with feelings akin to admiration. For himself he cared little, or rather, in the grim excitement of the destroyer's last throes, his mind was fully occupied with the episode of the final moments.
"Jump for it, Seton!" shouted the Lieutenant-Commander.
Alec shook his head.
"I'll stand by till you're ready, sir," he replied, proffering a life-belt to his superior.
Trevannion waved it aside with a grave, gesture of refusal. To him, as captain of the ship, it seemed unbecoming that he should don the life-saving device.
"Thanks," he replied. "I'm a good swimmer. I'll find something to hang on to. By Jove! Seton, the men are simply splendid."
The end came with startling suddenness. With two successive reports the sorely-tried bulkheads gave way under the terrific pressure of water. In a smother of foam the riven hull sagged until bow and stern reared themselves in the air to such an extent that to Alec it seemed as if the two extremities would meet. Then, with a sickening movement, the Bolero plunged to the bed of the North Sea.