Here again, in the work of rescuing the crews of the stranded block-ships, the M.-L.'s played a successful and daring part. M.-L. 532, in attempting to run alongside, was badly damaged in collision. M.-L. 276 repeatedly went alongside the Brilliant, and in exceptionally difficult circumstances rescued most of the crew.
M.-L. 283, ranging up alongside the Sirius, took off practically all her crew; then, notwithstanding the fact that her deck was crowded with men, she took off sixteen of the Brilliant's crew who had taken to a whaler, which had been sunk by gun-fire.
After the rescuing M.-L.'s had left, it was reported that an officer and some men belonging to the Sirius were missing. That vessel was hard and fast aground, and subjected to a furious fire from the German batteries. It seemed impossible that anyone could remain alive on board the shattered hulk. But, since there was a very slight possibility, there was no hesitation on the part of the skipper of Coastal Motor-Boat No. 10. Under a heavy and accurate fire from 4.1-inch and machine-guns the C.M.-B. made a thorough search for the missing officer and men, but found no sign of life. Subsequently they were picked up thirteen miles out at sea, whither they had pulled in an open boat after the sinking of their ship.
It was no fault on the part of Commander Godsal that had caused the failure of the operations. Most men would have been content to rest on their laurels, but not so Godsal. Directly he reported to the Vice-Admiral at Dover he volunteered to make another attempt upon Ostend. His offer was accepted, and, while the nation was clamouring for the Vindictive to be exhibited as a show-ship, her hold was already being filled with cement in order to use her as a block-ship to complete the task that the Sirius and Brilliant had failed to achieve.
It was about a week after the return of the Vindictive to Dover that Alec Seton and Guy Branscombe were making their way along the esplanade in the direction of the Lord Warden Hotel, when they were hailed by Flight-lieutenant Smith.
"Gorgeous news, you fellows!" exclaimed the R.A.F. pilot, who had made a rapid recovery from the effect of his immersion in the icy waters of Zeebrugge Harbour. "I'm told off for the coming Ostend stunt. Got my orders from the Squadron Commander this afternoon."
"Some fellows get all the luck," grunted Branscombe. "'Spose we must congratulate you; but for Heaven's sake don't rub it in! We're properly hipped. Nobody up-topsides loves us. We're kind of social pariahs amongst the lucky dogs of the Dover Patrol. In short, we're fed up absolutely."
"I agree," added Seton disconsolately.
"What's upset your respective apple-carts?" asked Smith.
"Every mortal thing," replied Seton. "We both volunteered for work with the Vindictive, and all we got was thanks and fourteen days' leave. There's been a most unholy scramble to take part in the stunt—fellows tumbling over each other, like a west-end bargain sale. One fellow puts forward his claim on the grounds that he was on the Sirius, another the Brilliant, a third because he got into Zeebrugge and got out again. The 'Vindictives' naturally want to see the thing through, and they won't budge—so there you are. Branscombe's M.-L. is non est, and they haven't given him a new one. I'm pushed out of the destroyer flotilla 'cause I've been chipped about a bit. The medical board tell me that I want rest—and it's rest that's driving, me silly. No chance of getting a lift in your 'bus?"