Presently a high dark mass was observed almost ahead and slightly on the destroyer’s port bow. It was a hostile battleship. She was lying athwart the _Calder’s_ course, with a considerable list to starboard, and proceeding at a rate of about four knots. Her foremast had been shot away, and with it the for’ard funnel, which in ships of this class is close to the mast. One of her two steel derricks had collapsed, the curved end trailing over the side. Long gashes in her armoured plates testified to the accuracy and power of the British gunnery.
Already the torpedoes had been "launched home" into the _Calder’s_ twin tubes. In any case the battleship must not be allowed to crawl into port, even if she should be incapable of repairs for months.
Crosthwaite was about to con the destroyer in order to bring the torpedo-tubes to bear, when the already stricken battleship gave a violent lurch, from which she made no attempt at recovery.
Farther and farther she heeled, the rush of water into her hull and the hiss of escaping air being distinctly audible above the howling of the wind. Her crew--or, rather, the survivors--could be heard as they leapt from the steeply inclined decks. There was no need for a torpedo to administer the _coup de grâce_.
Five minutes later only the battleship’s keel-plates and the tips of the four propellers remained above the surface, by which time the _Calder_ had left her well astern and was approaching the double lines of hostile light cruisers, whose indistinct shapes were just beginning to be visible against the patch of starlight that penetrated a gap in the inky mist.
A sudden blinding glare enveloped the _Calder_, causing her lieutenant-commander, quartermaster, and helmsman to blink helplessly. Fairly caught by the rays of half a dozen search-lights, they were temporarily blinded as effectually as if their eyes had been bandaged with opaque scarves.
Fortunately Sefton’s back was turned from the direction in which the destroyer was proceeding. The unmasking of the concentrated rays warned him. Shielding his eyes, he turned and made a dash for the steam steering-gear, the wheel of which the helmsman was still grasping automatically.
The man made no attempt to carry out the order, but, slowly bending forward, collapsed upon the bridge. A fragment of shell had pierced his brain.
