With solid water sweeping her fore and aft, the Calder still struggled on her course, steered by the hand-operated gear in conjunction with the inefficient boat's compass. Hitherto the leaks had been kept under, but now the water was making its way in through the shattered fore-deck.
Reluctantly Sefton came to the conclusion that he would have to give the order "abandon ship" before many minutes had passed. Already the knowledge that the old Calder was slowly foundering had become general, yet there was no panic.
Calmly some of the men began to collect all the buoyant materials they could lay their hands upon for the purpose of constructing rafts, since there were no boats left. Others stuck gamely to the task of manning the pumps, while the wounded were carried on deck in order to give them a chance of getting clear of the sinking ship.
At seven in the morning a vessel was sighted to the west'ard proceeding in a nor'-easterly direction. After a few minutes of anxious doubt as to her nationality, she proved to be a Danish trawler--unless the national colours painted on her sides and the distinguishing numbers on her sails were disguises.
Altering her course, the trawler bore down upon the Calder and slowed down within hailing distance to leeward.
"Come you all aboard," shouted the Danish skipper, a tall, broad-shouldered descendant of a Viking forbear. "We save you. Plenty room for all."
"We don't want to abandon ship yet," replied Sefton. "We may weather it yet."
"An' I think that you answer so," rejoined the skipper. "You British seamans brave mans. Englishmans goot; Danes goot; Germans no goot. Me stand by an' 'elp."
"Seen anything of the battle?" enquired the sub.
The Danish skipper nodded his head emphatically.