"By Jove, no, I didn't! Clean forgot all about it."
"And I fancy, old bird, you won't again," interposed an assistant paymaster, vainly attempting to "open out" the folding camera. "It's done for."
Which was only too true. A fragment of shell had penetrated the case, reducing the delicate mechanism to a complete wreck.
"Look out! Stand clear!" shouted a dozen voices.
With a rending crash the crippled mast buckled up and disappeared over the side.
Sefton glanced at his chum. The imperturbable sub shrugged his shoulders.
"Better to be born lucky than rich, old man," he remarked. "But, by heavens, what a jamboree!"
He could find no other words to describe the scene of destruction. Now that the ship was out of action, and the excitement of the titanic struggle was over, the grim realization of what a naval engagement means was beginning to reveal itself to the survivors of the gallant crew.
All the fires had been extinguished, with the exception of the big outbreak aft. Gangs of men toiled desperately at the hand-pumps with a double purpose. The Warrior was making water freely. Already her stokeholds and engine-rooms were flooded. Deprived of the aid of her powerful steam bilge-pumps it seemed doubtful if the hand appliances would be able to cope with the steady inrush. Moreover, a considerable volume of water had to be directed upon the fire.
Officers with blackened faces and scorched uniforms encouraged the men by word and deed. At whatever cost the Warrior had to be saved from foundering if human efforts were capable of such a herculean task. Undaunted, the crew toiled manfully, fighting fire and water at one and the same time.