VI THE INNER PATROL

War was a reality, and had actually been in progress for over a month, and the four destroyers, their black shapes sliding noiselessly throughout the night, steamed to and fro with no lights off the entrance to the blockaded harbour. They had been doing this for over three weeks, and since the day after the fleet action on the very outbreak of hostilities in which the enemy had been badly worsted and compelled to retire under the guns of their fortress, they had been carrying out the same routine. There were well over forty torpedo craft actually patrolling, but of these four had been told off for the advanced patrol line and were consequently some distance inshore of the remainder of their consorts.

Sometimes at night they would move slowly to and fro on a line parallel to and about five miles off the coast and the entrance to the harbour, but during the daytime they withdrew seaward, and their places were filled by a cordon of cruisers stationed fifteen miles off the land. A nearer approach in broad daylight was not permissible, for the enemy’s coast defences, armed with powerful long-range guns, had to be treated with due respect. The blockade was maintained with ruthless vigilance, however, for the lines of destroyers, scouts and cruisers guarded all means of exit from the doomed fortress. Away to seaward lay the whole battle fleet, the admiral in command being in constant communication with his inshore vessels by means of wireless telegraphy.

The enemy had not been particularly active, and except for the fleet action, in which it was reported that four of their battleships had been sunk and three more and one battle-cruiser badly damaged, their losses were not known. At the close of the battle the torpedo craft had been sent in to convert the retreat into a rout, but although they had attacked the fleeing enemy the results of their efforts were not known, while several of the destroyers had been badly injured and had finally sunk. Since then there had been little going on, for although the hostile torpedo craft had put to sea at night on three different occasions, they had each time been forced back by the watching vessels. The losses in these encounters were not known for certain, but while that of the blockaders consisted of some couple of dozen men killed and wounded and a destroyer temporarily disabled, it was thought that two of the enemy’s craft had been lost. The hostile submarines, strangely enough, had been comparatively inactive.

The men in the blockading craft were getting sick of it. Not sick of the war, but tired of doing nothing, and in spite of the hard time they were having they were spoiling for a fight.

The weary monotony of the patrol was beginning to tell on their nerves, and they were all, without exception, decidedly annoyed with the enemy for not having more dash and initiative.

The last ship of the four comprising the inner patrol is the one which principally concerns us, and her ship’s company, although the remainder of their flotilla mates called them “pirates,” were perhaps more than usually anxious for the fight from this selfsame reason. It was a pitch-dark night, and the stars and moon were obscured in the heavy clouds banked in the sky, while the north-westerly wind whistled over the surface of the sea and flung the foam from the top of the short curling seas to leeward in sheets of spray. It was midwinter and bitterly cold, and the icy blast numbed all those on board to the very marrow, while to touch metal with the bare hand was painful. The decks, in the places to which the warmth of the boilers had not penetrated, were covered with a thin sheet of ice which was momentarily becoming thicker as the driving spray fell and froze, and in spite of their sheepskin coats, leather sea-boots, and fur caps with ear flaps, the officers and men were almost numb.

On the bridge stood the captain—a young lieutenant-commander—with his sub-lieutenant, signal man, and quartermaster, and every now and then the officers would stamp their feet and swing their arms to restore their circulation. The ship ahead, the white wash of her wake showing up through the blackness of the night, could be seen as a dim shadow over the bows, while far off on the beam the dull line of the coast was occasionally visible through the rifts in the driving squalls. The little ship was all ready for action, for steam was up for full speed, while the torpedoes were ready in their tubes and the guns had their ammunition by them. The watch on deck, except for a look-out at each tube, were huddled together under such shelter as they could obtain from the wind; some were smoking and talking in a low voice, while others were fitfully dozing. Sleep, however, was out of the question on account of the cold, and every now and then a recumbent form would sit up with a grunt and a yawn and curse the weather in extremely nautical language.

“Strike me bloomin’ well pink, Bill,” said an able seaman to his chum. “I’m gettin’ fair fed up with this ’ere, for all the fun we’ve ’ad we might as well be mobilisin’!”

“What yer talkin’ about?” replied his friend. “When they does come out you’ll get yer bellyful all right, I expect. You’ll be singin’ out then right enuf!”

“I ain’t afraid of ’em,” answered the first speaker, “but this ’ere show’s too perishin’ parky for the likes o’ me; knockin’ abart the ’ole time doin’ nothing gives me the fair ’ump. G-r-r-r, it’s cold!”

“Never mind, ole chum, you’ll be warm soon enuf, I reckon,” said the other.

The conversation continued, and the commanding officer, happening to hear what was said, for the speakers were sitting on the deck at the foot of the ladder leading to the bridge, turned to his sub-lieutenant and said, “Well, judging from what they say they’re just about as fed up with this show as I am. I wish to goodness they’d come and have it out!” He was referring to the enemy.

“Yes, sir, so do I,” replied the sub. “We ought to be at the end of the patrol line in another twenty minutes,” he added, “and then we make the sixteen-point turn to the opposite course.”

“Oh, well, keep a good look out, and call me if you see or hear anything,” said the lieutenant-commander. “I’ll try to get a bit of a caulk. Look out, and don’t get astern of station,” and so saying he lay down in a deck chair on the bridge.

Now a deck chair on the bridge of a destroyer in midwinter is not an ideal place for sleep, however many clothes you may have on, and the commanding officer soon gave it up as a bad job and sat staring up at the scurrying clouds above his head. It was getting on for one o’clock in the morning, and he had spent most of his nights in this manner for the past three weeks, taking what sleep he could in the daytime. He had had a hurried wash now and then, but had hardly been out of his clothes, except to change them occasionally, for the whole period. His young face, the cheeks and chin now covered with a thick stubble, seemed prematurely aged, and he bore no resemblance to the smart young officer of three months before. He had aged, and no wonder, for was he not one of the watches upon whom his admiral depended to stop the hostile torpedo craft if they came out? If they were allowed to steal unmolested to the open sea they might be able to deliver a successful attack on the battle fleet, so it was not to be marvelled at that the officers on the advanced patrol felt the responsibility laid heavily upon them.

The weary night drew on, and the patrolling boats steamed to and fro on their beat, but the enemy showed no signs of activity. At about 2.15 a.m., however, the sullen thud of a heavy explosion in the direction of the harbour floated down on the wind. “Cæsar’s aunt!” shouted the lieutenant-commander, springing up. “What’s that?” “Sounded to me like a mine,” answered the sub-lieutenant. “I’ll take my oath it wasn’t a gun.”

“But who’d be messin’ about on top of mines at this time of night? There are none of our craft inshore of us,” said the commanding officer. “By George, though! I’ve got it,” after a minute’s thought, “you know our minelayers were at work off the harbour entrance about a week ago. That’s what it is. The other fellows are comin’ out, and one of the silly blighters has got mixed up in our minefield. It can’t be destroyers, they’d never come out at this time of the mornin’, give them no time to get back before daylight, and it’s their big ships or I’m a Dutchman!” He was still looking towards the shore some five miles away, and had barely spoken when the fiery trail of a rocket shot skywards from close in under the land. It burst in a shower of stars which illuminated everything in the vicinity, and for a brief moment the watchers saw, or thought they could see, a series of deeper shadows gathered under the low cliffs. Before they could make certain, however, the light had gone. But if the shadows were really there they could only be one thing, the enemy’s fleet.

“We’re in for a scrap at last,” exclaimed the captain, rubbing his hands. “Send down and tell the engineer to stand by for a spurt, and warn the hands to be ready!”

The men needed no encouragement, for they were all awake. All hands and the cook were on deck gazing anxiously landwards, and soon dispersed to their stations at the guns and torpedo tubes. The lieutenant-commander, meanwhile, was watching his next ahead, and as he looked he saw a series of red flashes made with a hand lamp, and a second later a whistle sounded shrilly along the line.

“Great Scott! He’s going in to attack!” he exclaimed, jumping to the engine-room telegraphs and jamming them on to full speed. “Look out for the foremost tube, sub. You’ll have to fire when your sights come on, and stand by to come up here if I get knocked out.” He was right. The senior officer had decided to take his chance and to attack, and in a short time the four destroyers were on their way for the harbour entrance at a good twenty knots.

Suddenly from the darkness right ahead the dazzling white ray of a searchlight shot out; it flickered for an instant, and then rested full on the leading boat. In another second at least half a dozen more had been switched on, and shortly afterwards the guns commenced their uproar. The vivid red flashes stabbed the darkness of the night, while the thundering reports, punctuated now and then by the poom-poom-poom of the lighter guns—for the enemy were using pom-poms—reverberated through the air in a noisy crescendo of sound. The whine of the shell and the crash of their explosions could be heard above the din, while at times the beams of the searchlights would be all but obscured by the fountains of spray flung up by the falling projectiles. At first the shooting was wild, but as more guns chimed in it became better, and the thrown-up spray was falling on the decks of the attacking boats while the shell splinters whistled through the air. Nobody as yet had been actually hit, and they drew closer and closer, until the leading boat put her helm over and swung abruptly to starboard, and followed by the remainder of her flock steamed at full speed along the enemy’s line some six hundred yards off. It could now be seen that there were about half a dozen big ships moving slowly ahead, and the leading destroyer, as she swung, fired two torpedoes. Then, after what seemed an eternity, an enormous upheaval of mingled water and flame rose at the side of the battleship, as still firing wildly she vanished in the smoke and spray astern. The roar of the detonation was all but drowned by the reports of the guns, but there was no doubt that one torpedo had gone home.

The fire had now become accurate, and shell after shell, bursting on impact with the water, sent its jagged fragments whistling across the attackers’ deck. Men commenced to fall, rents appeared in the funnels, boats were splintered, but still they swept on, each vessel as she came abreast her opposite number in the enemy’s line firing her torpedoes. How many got home it was impossible to say, for the smoke and spray all but blotted out the outline of the hostile ships. A series of explosions were heard, however, so it was hoped that several of the weapons had found their billet.

The whole attack was over in less than four minutes from the first gun being fired, and in another two the destroyers were swallowed up in the darkness and were steaming to sea as fast as their damaged condition could allow them. The enemy were still firing, but their shot was falling nowhere near the retreating destroyers. Presently, however, this ceased and all was silent once more.

On getting about three miles from the coast the leading boat stopped, and on comparing notes with the others it was found that in the whole sub-division one officer and eighteen men had been killed outright, while fourteen others were wounded. The boats themselves were not vitally damaged, but the funnels, sides, and decks of all four were badly perforated and torn. There was an underwater hole—the only one—in the second boat, but the engines and boilers remained untouched, and on the orifice being plugged she could keep down the flow of water with her pumps.

A wireless signal was made to the supporting cruisers telling them that an attack had been made, and the wounded were made as comfortable as possible until daylight, when the destroyers would be able to approach their own fleet. Towards 4 a.m. another burst of firing broke out in the direction of the harbour, and it was surmised that the outer patrolling boats had gone in to attack. More firing took place at irregular intervals till daylight, as attack after attack was pressed home, and it was evident that the enemy were having anything but a pleasant time.

Towards six o’clock the first signs of dawn appeared to the eastward, and by 6.30 it was light enough to see the harbour entrance. Two big ships appeared to be ashore, and another was sunk with her masts and funnels above water, but beyond this it was impossible to see any details. At 7 a.m. the four destroyers steamed slowly seawards, and passing the outlying cruisers, met the battle fleet, which had approached to within twenty miles of the coast. The killed and wounded were sent aboard the larger vessels, and after being supplied with spare torpedoes the four proceeded at their best speed for their base to repair damages. As they left the signal “Well done, destroyers” fluttered from the foremost head of the flagship, and the weary crews broke into a throaty cheer as the signalmen read out the meaning of the cluster of flags.

They had done their work, and done it well, for the enemy’s fleet had been badly mauled. Life was well worth living. Even the thought of their dead and wounded messmates did not damp their spirits, for they knew they had carried out their work, and that their days and nights of weary watching had not been in vain.