Shortly afterwards, a beautifully-placed shot took away two of her funnels, and again she was seen to be on fire. All amidships became a raging furnace; her mainmast fell by the board. Then there was a sudden silence on both sides. It was now only a question of saving lives.
The Sarpedon bore down upon her stricken enemy, going close up to her on the windward side and launching two of her boats.
At close quarters the devastating effect of the British 6-inch lyddite shells was plainly apparent. The German flagship's thickly armoured hull was like a sieve. Her fore-bridge was a tangled mass of ironwork; the wire stays of her foremast were swinging in the air. Her guns were smashed and bent, some looking round corners, some lying on their sides. Her upper decks were in a state of chaos; her fallen funnels and ventilators were red hot, and every boat was burnt. She was sinking in a cloud of smoke and flame and hissing steam.
Unnoticed by any one near, the periscope of a submarine was moving in the midst of the drowning Germans who had jumped into the sea from the doomed cruiser. The submarine was the British H29.
Below, at his post in the conning-tower, Lieutenant Ingoldsby watched all that was going on about him. He had been prepared to send his last remaining torpedo into the Schiller, but this was now unnecessary. He watched the Sarpedon's boats coming to the rescue of the struggling Germans, whom he could not himself attempt to save. He watched the cruiser sinking.
There appeared to be only a very few living beings left on board of her. A couple of officers stood under the wreckage of her fore-bridge. There was a lonely figure on her quarter-deck, dimly visible amid the smoke and flames. He, too, looked like an officer, though little could be seen of his uniform, excepting a broad band of gold on his sleeve. His head was bare. He held his hands pressed to his eyes, as if he were blinded by the smoke, or as if he were unwilling to look upon what little remained of the ship.
Suddenly, while Ingoldsby watched, he saw one of the officers under the bridge climb up by a stanchion and leap over into the sea. The other ran aft into the smoke, disappeared for a moment, and then again was seen staggering along the red hot deck with his cap held over his mouth, dodging in and out amongst the wreckage.
For an instant he stood in hesitation, and Ingoldsby saw that he was only a youth, a midshipman. Then again he ran as with some madly hopeless purpose aft towards the quarter-deck. He was lost in the smoke for a while, but once more he appeared, crawling perilously along the narrow strip of coaming at the edge of the flame-swept deck.
Had the boy wanted to save his own life he might have done so many times by leaping down into the sea. But such most surely was not his design. Lieutenant Ingoldsby understood his intention, and thrilled with admiration as he saw it most bravely fulfilled. Dashing through the smoke, the lad at last reached the officer who had stood alone on the quarter-deck; caught him by the arm, spoke to him imploringly, and then led him gently to the vessel's side. They stood together, an admiral and a midshipman. Together they leapt into the waves.
"About the pluckiest act I've ever witnessed!" declared Lieutenant Ingoldsby. "Desmond, you ought to have seen it."