through the murk and saw the salvoes come down, one short, then tense minutes later one just over, so close that the men on both ships must have been beaten by the spray, shaken by the blast.
Sparrow
was heading back to them now, coming up with the monitor. He glanced astern and saw the flaming orange beacon that was the raft.
They waited for it. Then it came, the too-familiar, gut-tensing roar and shriek and they saw the salvo fall to seaward, a quartermile to seaward and astern; and it had been fired at the blazing raft.
Dunbar snorted, “Fooled ’em!” He grinned appreciatively.
Smith was just glad. And if the ruse had been successful it would not succeed for long. The raft would burn out and anyway the squall was passing and soon would no longer hide them. Set the launches to making smoke again? But the tug was easing away, making her own smoke as she slowly took up the slack of the tow. For an instant she checked with the tow barely curved. Smith held his breath. But Garrick would have that hawser made fast to a shackle of the monitor’s anchor cable to give weight to the tow, more elasticity and thus more strength.
Lively Lady
nudged ahead and drew
Marshall Marmont
after her.
Smith thought it was none too soon, though Mrs. Baines had proved she knew her job, and more. He sent the launches off to find their own way home.
Sparrow
steamed around and around the monitor and tug, keeping again her watch for submarines and making smoke that was needed now to cover the creeping ships as the squall swept on and left the same grey sea and sky with a rare glimpse of a watery sun. The shore batteries shifted target from the burnt-out raft and fired steadily. They got close to the monitor and once, by mistake, dangerously close to
Sparrow
, the salvo bracketting her and setting her tossing, deafening all aboard, hurling spray that again stank of explosive across her decks. She steamed through it and as Smith’s ears ceased ringing he heard one of the crew of the twelve-pounder singing dolefully, “Oh, I do like to be beside the sea-side! I do like to be beside the sea…”
Smith’s little command limped away and gradually the range opened until the shore batteries ceased firing. For a few minutes there was peace as
Sparrow
swung around ahead of the tug and monitor and turned to pass down to seaward of them. Then came the look-out’s yell, “Aircraft bearin’ green two-oh!”
They were flying high, heading out from the Belgian coast, specks against the grey sky and now seen then lost as cloud hid them. But then they were coming down in a dive that was shallow at first as they turned towards the ships, then steepened. Smith watched them through his glasses until he could see the crosses on the wings and then lost those crosses as the machines swept down on the sea.
Smith said, “Take station astern of
Marshall Marmont
.”
“Full ahead both!” Dunbar rapped it out then jammed the glasses to his eyes again. He said, “Rumplers.”
Smith grunted, took his word for it. They were biplanes, buzzing like hornets as they came in low over the sea, barely a hundred feet above it. Heads showed like footballs above the open cockpits. There was a machine-gun mounted in the after cockpit and bombs in their racks under the wings. Their exhausts stuck straight up from the engines for a foot or more and seemingly right behind the propeller. They streamed oily smoke above the pilot’s head.
Sparr
ow had run down past monitor and tug to seaward of them and swung around well astern of
Marshall Marmont
as Dunbar yelled, “All guns commence!”
Sparrow
’s guns opened fire, the six-pounders barking and the twelve-pounder slamming away on the bridge, the smoke whipping away on the wind of her passage, the ejected empty cartridge cases flying and clanging across the deck.
Marshall Marmont
was firing too. Not the huge fifteen-inch that would not bear aft anyway, but the two anti-aircraft guns she carried in the stern. And then as
Sparrow
was heading back to them now, coming up with the monitor. He glanced astern and saw the flaming orange beacon that was the raft.
They waited for it. Then it came, the too-familiar, gut-tensing roar and shriek and they saw the salvo fall to seaward, a quartermile to seaward and astern; and it had been fired at the blazing raft.
Dunbar snorted, “Fooled ’em!” He grinned appreciatively.
Smith was just glad. And if the ruse had been successful it would not succeed for long. The raft would burn out and anyway the squall was passing and soon would no longer hide them. Set the launches to making smoke again? But the tug was easing away, making her own smoke as she slowly took up the slack of the tow. For an instant she checked with the tow barely curved. Smith held his breath. But Garrick would have that hawser made fast to a shackle of the monitor’s anchor cable to give weight to the tow, more elasticity and thus more strength.
Lively Lady
nudged ahead and drew
Marshall Marmont
after her.
Smith thought it was none too soon, though Mrs. Baines had proved she knew her job, and more. He sent the launches off to find their own way home.
Sparrow
steamed around and around the monitor and tug, keeping again her watch for submarines and making smoke that was needed now to cover the creeping ships as the squall swept on and left the same grey sea and sky with a rare glimpse of a watery sun. The shore batteries shifted target from the burnt-out raft and fired steadily. They got close to the monitor and once, by mistake, dangerously close to
Sparrow
, the salvo bracketting her and setting her tossing, deafening all aboard, hurling spray that again stank of explosive across her decks. She steamed through it and as Smith’s ears ceased ringing he heard one of the crew of the twelve-pounder singing dolefully, “Oh, I do like to be beside the sea-side! I do like to be beside the sea…”
Smith’s little command limped away and gradually the range opened until the shore batteries ceased firing. For a few minutes there was peace as
Sparrow
swung around ahead of the tug and monitor and turned to pass down to seaward of them. Then came the look-out’s yell, “Aircraft bearin’ green two-oh!”
They were flying high, heading out from the Belgian coast, specks against the grey sky and now seen then lost as cloud hid them. But then they were coming down in a dive that was shallow at first as they turned towards the ships, then steepened. Smith watched them through his glasses until he could see the crosses on the wings and then lost those crosses as the machines swept down on the sea.
Smith said, “Take station astern of
Marshall Marmont
.”
“Full ahead both!” Dunbar rapped it out then jammed the glasses to his eyes again. He said, “Rumplers.”
Smith grunted, took his word for it. They were biplanes, buzzing like hornets as they came in low over the sea, barely a hundred feet above it. Heads showed like footballs above the open cockpits. There was a machine-gun mounted in the after cockpit and bombs in their racks under the wings. Their exhausts stuck straight up from the engines for a foot or more and seemingly right behind the propeller. They streamed oily smoke above the pilot’s head.
Sparr
ow had run down past monitor and tug to seaward of them and swung around well astern of
Marshall Marmont
as Dunbar yelled, “All guns commence!”
Sparrow
’s guns opened fire, the six-pounders barking and the twelve-pounder slamming away on the bridge, the smoke whipping away on the wind of her passage, the ejected empty cartridge cases flying and clanging across the deck.
Marshall Marmont
was firing too. Not the huge fifteen-inch that would not bear aft anyway, but the two anti-aircraft guns she carried in the stern. And then as
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