Turning to see if Max Hilliger were following him, he caught sight of the destroyers rushing to the rescue, in spite of the danger from mines. He had not known that they were so close in the wake of the Atreus. Rodney had told him that they were going off on another job. He wondered if they would be able to save the ship by towing her into shoal water.
The shrill blast of a bugle reached him from the cruiser. As the smoke lifted for a moment he saw a throng of men on her decks, throwing things overboard—booms, hammocks, baulks of timber, crates, wooden gratings—anything that might help in saving life. Her boats appeared to have been smashed by the explosion. Everything beyond the bridge was wrecked—a funnel had fallen, the fire-control platform was down. He could see a gap in the forward turret, from which the great guns had been dislodged.
He thought of the stokers and engineers. None of the crew who had been in the forepart of the vessel when she struck the mine could have had any chance of life. Even as he swam, he passed many gruesome signs of the terrible destruction. He turned abruptly at sight of an uplifted hand and a young seaman's blood-stained face, which appeared immediately in front of him. He stretched out and caught at the man's wrist.
"Can I help you, mate?" he panted.
"No use, sonny," the seaman answered feebly. "Never you mind me. I've lost a leg, and I reckon my starboard side's stove in."
Mark held on, trying to get his free arm round the man's body. But he was drawn under, struggling, losing his grip.
When again he rose exhausted to the surface, and began once more to swim for his life, he was himself seized by the shoulder and pushed from behind. He made a spurt to free himself, and his right hand came down upon something solid, at which he grabbed with desperate fingers. It was one of the gratings that had been thrown overboard.
"Hold on to it!"
He heard the words confusedly through the buzzing of the sea water in his ears. He did not recognise the voice as that of his brother. Before he could turn to speak, his rescuer was swimming off again to the help of other possible survivors.
Mark reached over and managed to get a shin against the edge of the grating, pulling himself up until he rested bodily across the support. Thus raised above the surface, clinging with hands and knees, he could look round in search of swimmers who might share his refuge.