With Beatty off Jutland Part 7

Then with a concussion that shook the ship the guns sent their missiles hurtling through the air, while clouds of acrid-smelling smoke, black, white, and brown in hue, drifted rapidly across the deck.

At last the _Warrior_ had her chance--and she was taking it with a vengeance.

CHAPTER VII--In the Thick of the Fight

Leaving Sub-lieutenant Jack Sefton on his elevated perch in the fire-control station, it will be necessary to follow the fortunes of the vessel from which he had in theory deserted--the destroyer _Calder_.

Like the rest of the flotillas, the _Calder_ had cleared for action shortly after noon. Hers was a far different part from that of the _Warrior_. There was practically no protection for her guns' crew and for the men serving the torpedo-tubes. Her conning-tower afforded shelter only from slivers of steel and the bursting shrapnel; it was vulnerable to large projectiles. Relying solely on her speed and quickness of helm, the destroyer's mission was to dart in towards the enemy lines and get in as many hits with her torpedoes as possible.

Then, if fortunate enough to escape a direct hit from the German guns, she would have to scurry back to the shelter of the battle-cruisers, and await another opportunity to make a further torpedo attack upon the enemy.

At 3.30 p.m. Beatty's command increased speed to 25 knots, the Second Battle-cruiser Squadron forming astern of the First, while a far-flung line of destroyers took up station ahead. The course was now E.S.E., slightly converging upon the enemy, whose ships, looming with varying degrees of visibility through the haze, were now at a distance of a little more than ten sea miles.

Half that distance away the Fifth Battle Squadron, including the gigantic _Warspite_, was bearing N.N.W., with the object of supporting the battle-cruisers when occasion arose.

It was a proud moment for the gallant Beatty when he realized that now he was between the enemy battle-cruisers and their North Sea bases; while there was an ever-increasing possibility that Jellicoe's main fleet would speedily be in a position to cut off the German battleships from their retreat through the Skager-Rack to Kiel. Yet at the same time the odds against Beatty were bordering upon the enormous. His duty was to engage, entice, and hold the enemy in a northerly direction without being overwhelmed by superior force. Even at the risk of losing some of his best ships he had to engage the attention of the enemy, lure them into the belief that at last the British battle-cruisers had run into a trap, and hammer away until the Commander-in-Chief arrived upon the scene with a vastly superior fleet.

At a quarter to five the opposing forces opened fire simultaneously at a range of 20,000 yards. The _Calder_ was keeping station broad on the beam of the _Queen Mary_, and warding off threatened submarine attacks, for the time was not yet ripe for the destroyers to hurl themselves against the battered hostile ships.

"By Jove, this is going to be 'some' sc.r.a.p," muttered Crosthwaite, as a regular tornado of heavy sh.e.l.ls "straddled" the leading battle-cruisers.

At first the German gunnery was excellent, several direct hits being received by the British battle-cruisers, but in a few moments the steady, rapid, methodical salvoes from the British 13.5's began to make themselves felt. Between the patches of haze, rent by the lurid flashes of the guns, could be descried the greenish-grey outlines of the hostile vessels fast being reduced to sc.r.a.p-iron. For the time being all seemed well with the British battle-cruisers, whose volume of fire was still being delivered with that terrible regularity which the Huns have good cause to dread.

Suddenly the huge _Indefatigible_ was destroyed; a gallant battle-cruiser of nearly 19,000 tons had paid the price of Admiralty.

In previous naval battles such an appalling catastrophe as the blowing up of a mighty ship has caused the two fleets spontaneously to cease fire for a period of some minutes; but in the Jutland fight, regardless of the fate of the battle-cruiser, the rest of the squadron redoubled their efforts. Not for one second did the h.e.l.lish din cease, as the death-dealing salvoes hurtled into the opposing ships. To quote the words of one on board the _Tiger_, it was "a glorified Donnybrook Fair--whenever you see a head, crack it!"

Twenty minutes later Crosthwaite saw the _Queen Mary_ sunk. So quickly did she disappear that the _Tiger_, following astern, pa.s.sed through the smoke that marked the grave of the devoted ship.

Beyond, the _Invincible_, already badly hit, sank, taking with her 750 gallant officers and men.

By this time the Fifth Battle Squadron, which had been attached to Beatty's command, came into action, opening fire at 20,000 yards, and although the pressure of the enemy's predominance in numbers was considerably relaxed, the danger was by no means over. For, in the now thicker haze, the German battle fleet had arrived upon the scene, and Beatty was literally betwixt two fires. Yet he handled his vessels with admirable strategical and tactical skill, being convinced, as was every man under him, that in spite of losses he was succeeding in holding the Huns.

Majestically the four great battleships, _Warspite_, _Valiant_, _Barham_, and _Malaya_, bore into the melee, each of their 15-inch guns firing with terrible effect. The head of the German column seemed to be literally crumpled and crushed. A large three-funnelled battleship, possibly the _Thuringien_, received terrific punishment. Masts, funnels, turrets, were blown away piecemeal, until, a ma.s.s of smoke and flames, she hauled off line and was quickly screened by the smoke from some of the German destroyers. Whether she sank--and it seemed as if she could not do otherwise--Crosthwaite was unable to determine. Other German vessels, badly damaged, were swung out of position, some of them on fire and showing a tremendous list.

At a quarter to five both fleets altered course several points, the rival lines turning outwards and completely reversing their previous direction. It was at this juncture that the British destroyers were ordered to take advantage of the confusion in which the Huns had been thrown and to launch a torpedo attack upon the battered enemy ships.

"Now for it," thought Crosthwaite, the glint of battle in his eyes. It was his chance--a dash in broad daylight against the quick-firers of the German vessels. Never before in the history of naval warfare had destroyers been ordered to attack battleships save at night. Everything depended upon skill in handling, speed, and the turmoil into which the enemy had been thrown by the terrific gun-fire of the battleships of the _Queen Elizabeth_ cla.s.s.

In four columns line ahead the destroyer flotillas raced off at top speed. Drawing clear of the cruisers, they turned 8 points to starboard, a course that would bring them in contact with the enemy line. Thick clouds of fire-tinged smoke belched from their funnels--not due to bad stoking but to the deliberate manipulation of the oil-fuel-fed furnaces, since smoke alone offered any concealment during the daylight attack.

With a couple of quartermasters, a signalman, and a messenger to attend to the voice-tubes, Crosthwaite took up his station within the conning-tower. All his mental powers were at work, and yet he remained perfectly cool and collected. Hardly a detail that came under his notice of that onward rush escaped his recollection.

For the first few miles the destroyers kept perfect station. Had they been on peace manoeuvres their relative distances could not have been better maintained. Through the eddying, ash-laden smoke, Crosthwaite strained his bloodshot eyes upon the destroyer next ahead, ready at the first sign to reduce speed or swerve should the little craft be hit or fall out of line. The possibility of the _Calder_ being "done in" never occurred to him, once the order had been given to attack. It was always one of her consorts that might meet with ill-luck, but Crosthwaite's command--no, never.

Sh.e.l.ls were beginning to ricochet from the water all around the devoted destroyers; yet, seemingly bearing a charmed life, they held grimly on their way.

More than once the sharp crash of a projectile exploding astern caused the lieutenant-commander to turn his head. Already rents were visible in the _Calder's_ funnels, through which the smoke poured in long trailing wisps. By the two tubes the torpedo-men stood rigidly at attention. Their two deadly weapons had been "launched home" and the tubes trained ten degrees for'ard of the beam. With his hand upon the firing-trigger the torpedo c.o.xswain of each end waited, as impa.s.sive as if carved in marble, ready to speed the missile on its way, and apparently indifferent to the fact that a sliver of steel striking the deadly warhead would involve the destroyer and her entire crew in absolute and instantaneous destruction.

Suddenly the leading destroyer ported helm, turning so swiftly and listing so excessively that, for the moment, Crosthwaite thought that she had received a mortal blow. Her alert commander had noticed a suspicious movement amongst the irregular line of battered German war-ships, now almost within effective torpedo range.

Out from behind the screen of battleships tore a German light cruiser and nearly a score of their ocean-going torpedo-boats. Whether it was with the intention of intercepting the British destroyers, or whether about to launch a torpedo attack upon Beatty's battle-cruisers, Crosthwaite knew not. All he did know was that the rival flotillas were closing at an aggregate rate of more than a mile a minute, and that the next few seconds would find the torpedo-craft mixed up in a most unholy sc.r.a.p.

All attempts at formation were now cast to the winds. Interlining, dodging across each other's bows, the engaging vessels raced madly to and fro, their quick-firers barking as rapidly as the gunners could thrust home the cartridges and clang the breech-blocks. So intricate was the manoeuvring that Crosthwaite saw two German torpedo-boats collide, and, while in that position, they were raked by a dozen sh.e.l.ls from the _Turbulent_.

Almost the next instant he was aware that a similar peril threatened the _Calder_, for a British destroyer, hit in her engine-room, circled erratically to starboard across her bows.

Gripping the engine-room telegraph-indicator levers, Crosthwaite rammed them to full speed astern. It was his only chance, for he could not pa.s.s either across the bows or astern of the crippled destroyer without certain risk of colliding with others of the flotilla. Then he waited--perhaps five seconds--in breathless suspense. Thank G.o.d, the _Calder_ began to lose way! It now remained to be seen whether she would gather sternway before her sharp stem crashed into the other destroyer amidships.

Even as he gripped the levers Crosthwaite saw the crew of the crippled craft's after 4-inch gun slew the weapon round to have a smack at the German vessel that had hit her so badly. The gun-layer, pressing his shoulder to the recoil-pad, bent over the sights. The next instant a hostile sh.e.l.l landed fairly upon the 4-inch quick-firer, bursting with an ear-splitting detonation.

When the smoke had drifted away, the gun was no longer visible, only a few twisted pieces of metal marking the spot where the mounting had stood. Of the men serving the quick-firer only one remained--the gun-layer. By the vagaries of explosion he was practically unhurt, except for being partially stunned by the terrible detonation. For some minutes he stood stock-still, as if unable to realize that the gun and his comrades had disappeared; then, making a sudden bound, he leapt into the sea. Evidently under the impression that the vessel was on the point of foundering, he had decided to swim for it.

Well it was for him that the _Calder_ was now almost motionless, although her propellers were going hard astern. Caught by the backwash of the revolving screws, he was swept past the side like a cork in a mountain torrent, until one of the men on the _Calder's_ fore-bridge threw him a rope.

As coolly as if mustering for divisions, the rescued gun-layer made his way aft, and, saluting the gunner, requested to be allowed to a.s.sist in serving the _Calder's_ after 4-inch.

Out from behind a dense cloud of smoke leapt a German torpedo-boat. Her commander had spotted the _Calder_ practically without steerage-way, and had made up his mind to ram, since his own craft was badly hit and could not keep afloat much longer.

Quickly Crosthwaite shouted an order. A torpedo leapt from the _Calder's_ deck and disappeared with a splash beneath the surface.

Anxiously the lieutenant-commander watched the ever-diverging lines that marked the track of the locomotive weapon. The target was a difficult one, although the range was but 200 yards.

The German skipper saw the approaching danger and attempted to port helm. Crippled in the steam steering-gear, the Hun torpedo-boat was slow in answering. A column of water leapt 200 feet in the air; by the time it subsided the hostile craft was no longer in existence, save as a shattered and torn hull plunging through nineteen fathoms of water to her ocean bed.

By this time the German torpedo-craft had had about enough of it. At least two of them had been sunk by German gun-fire, while another pair, their upper works reduced to a ma.s.s of tangled sc.r.a.p-iron, had mistaken each other for foes, with the result that a German destroyer had been sent to the bottom by a torpedo from her consort.

Turning back, the battered remnants of the Hun flotilla fled for the shelter of their battle-cruisers. The path was now clear for the furtherance of the British destroyers' attack upon the larger vessels of the hostile fleet; but the difficulties had increased tenfold owing to the injury of some of the boats, which were compelled to slacken speed and drop astern.

Yet undaunted, the black-hulled hornets reformed into some semblance of order, and, under a galling fire, hurled themselves upon the formidable array of German battle-cruisers.

CHAPTER VIII--The "Calder's" Second Scoop

Of the mad, desperate, and, above all, glorious race into the gates of a maritime h.e.l.l Crosthwaite saw but little beyond his immediate front.

Since the British destroyers were under the fire of projectiles ranging from 11-inch downwards, it was evident that the _Calder's_ light-armoured conning-tower would afford little protection, and if it were hit by a heavy sh.e.l.l the fate of all within would be sealed. So, standing on the starboard extremity of the bridge, the lieutenant-commander took his craft into the second phase of the destroyer attack.

Up to the present not a single British destroyer had been sunk, although some had been compelled to retire owing to damage received during their sc.r.a.p with the hostile torpedo flotilla; but the good start in this direction was no longer maintained.

A large destroyer, subsequently identified as the _Nomad_, was struck by a huge projectile almost amidships. A rush of scalding steam, followed by clouds of smoke, announced that the engine-room was wrecked, and that the vessel was no longer under control.

Porting helm, the _Calder_ ran past the lee of the crippled destroyer, the smoke from which undoubtedly saved Crosthwaite's command from severe punishment.