In the busy shipyards on either side of the Tyne, the night shifts were still hard at work turning out new vessels for the British navy at the rate of one and a half a week, in addition to effecting urgent repairs to ships damaged in action or by floating mines.
"Lads," shouted a burly iron-caulker in stentorian tones, "here be a German prize bein' towed up t' river."
"Garn!" retorted his mate. "German prize, my aunt! You don't see no German flag a-flyin; under that British ensign. She's one of our plucky 'uns. Give her three times three, mates!"
The cheering, caught up with redoubled energy, greeted the battered Calder throughout the whole length of her progress up the river. Her wounded lieutenant-commander, lying helpless in his bunk, heard the inspiring sound. He knew what it meant. A load had been lifted off his mind. His command was safe in port.
[CHAPTER XVIII--Too Late!]
"Eight days' leave--both watches."
The welcome order was given to the survivors of the Calder's crew with a promptitude that betokened official regard and appreciation of the plucky destroyer's ship's company.
The Calder, safe in dock, was handed over to the care of the shipyard authorities. At high pressure, the task of getting her ready for sea once more would occupy the best part of two months, so badly had she been knocked about.
When in dry dock, a discovery was made that showed how narrow her escape had been from instant destruction. A large-sized German torpedo was found in her flooded forepeak, its head flattened against the inside of the bow-plates. Fired at a distance of a few yards, it had passed completely through the thin metal hull, and, failing to penetrate the other side, had remained trapped in the waterlogged compartment. Examination showed that the safety-fan in the head of the weapon had not had sufficient time to revolve and liberate the firing-pin. A difference of a few yards would have been enough to transform the innocuous missile into a deadly weapon, capable of shattering the Calder like an egg-shell.
Having written up his report to the Commander-in-Chief, seen Crosthwaite safely into a shore hospital, and dispatched a telegram to his home announcing his safe return, Sefton bathed and turned in.