interrupted him impatiently. He had no time to mourn this chance of fate his only concern was to evaluate the force that was pursuing him, and then make the decision whether to run, or to turn back and engage them immediately.
'Cruiser is a medium, six or nine-inch. Either 'O' class, or an
'R'. She's four miles behind her escort. Both ships still out of range.' The destroyer was of no consequence; he could run down on her and blast her into a burning wreck, before her feeble little 4.7-inch guns were able to drop a shell within a mile of Blitcher, but the cruiser was another matter entirely. To tackle her, Blitcher would be engaging with her own class; victory would only be won after a severe mauling, and she was six thousand miles from the nearest friendly port where she could effect major repairs.
There was a further consideration. These two British ships might be the vanguard of a battle squadron. If he turned now and challenged action, engaged the cruiser in a single ship action, he might suddenly find himself pitted against imponderable odds. There could very well be another cruiser, or two, or three even a battleship, below the southern horizon.
His duty and his orders dictated instant flight, avoiding action,
and so prolonging Blitcher's fighting life.
'Enemy are streaming their colours, sir,' Kyller reported.
Von Kleine lifted his binoculars again. At the destroyer's masthead flew the tiny spots of white and red. This time he must leave the challenge to combat unanswered. 'Very well,' he said, and turned away to his stool in the corner of the bridge. He slumped into it and hunched his shoulders in thought. There were many interesting problems to occupy him, not least of them was how long he could run at full speed towards the north while his boilers devoured coal ravenously, and each minute widened the gap between Blitcher and Esther.
He swivelled his stool and looked back over his stern.
The destroyer was visible to the unaided eye now, and von Kleine frowned at it in irritation. She would yap at his heels like a terrier, clinging to him and shouting his Course and speed across the ether to the hungry British squadrons, that must even now be closing with him from every direction.
For days now he Could expect to see her sitting in his wake.
Come on! Come on!' Charles Little slapped his hand impatiently against the padded arm of his stool as he watched Orion.
For a night and a day he had watched her gaining on Blitcher but so infinitesimally slowly that it required his range finder to confirm the gain every thirty minutes.
Orion's bows were unnaturally high, and the waves she lifted with the passage of her hull through the water were the white wings of a seagull in the tropical sunlight; for Manderson, her captain, had
Pumped out her forward freshwater tanks and fired away half the shell and explosive Propellant from her forward magazines. Every man whose presence in the front half of the ship was not essential to her operation had been ordered aft to stand on the open deck as human ballast all this in an effort to lift Orion's bows and to coax another inch of speed from the cruiser.
Now she faced the most dangerous hour of her life, for she was creeping within extreme range of Blucher's terrible nine-inch armament,
and, taking into account the discrepancy in their speeds, it would be another hour before she could bring her own six-inch guns to bear.
During that time she would be under fire from Blucher's after turrets and would have no answer to them.
It was heart-breaking for Charles to watch the chase, for
Bloodhound had not once been asked to extend herself.
Below there was a reserve of speed that would allow her to close with Blucher in fifty minutes of steaming always -A provided she was not smashed into a fiery shambles long before.
Thus the three vessels fled towards the ever-receding northern horizon. The two long shapes of the cruisers flying arrow straight,
solid columns of reeking smoke pouring from the triple funnels to besmear the gay, glittering surface of the sea with a long double bank of black that dispersed only slowly on the easterly breeze; while, like a wwater beetle, the diminutive Bloodhound circled out to the side of Blitcher from where, when the time came, she could spot the fall of
Orion's shells more accurately and signal the corrections to her. But always Bloodhound tactfully kept outside the fifteen-mile radius which marked the length of Blucher's talons.
'We can expect Blucher to open fire at any moment now, sir the navigating lieutenant commented as he straightened up from the sextant,
over which he had been measuring the angle subtended by the two cruisers.
Charles nodded in agreement. 'Yes. Von Kleine must try for a few lucky hits, even at that range.'
'This isn't going to be very pretty to watch.'
'We'll just have to sit tight, keep our fingers crossed, and hope old Orion can,-' He stopped abruptly, and then 'Hello! Blucher's up to something!' He Jumped Up from his stool.
The silhouette of the German cruiser had altered drastically in the last few seconds. The gap between her funnels widened and now
Charles could see the humped menace of her forward turrets.
'By God, she's altering course! The bloody bastard is bringing all his turrets to bear!' Lieutenant Kyller studied his captain's face.
In sleep there was an air of serenity about the man. It reminded
Kyller of a painting he had seen in the cathedral at Mirriberg, a portrait of Saint Luke by Holbein. The same fine bone structure, the golden-blond beard and mustache that framed the mobile and sensitive lips. He pushed the idea aside and leaned forward. Gently he touched von Kleine's shoulder.
'Captain. My Captain,' and von Kleine opened his eyes.
They were smoky blue with sleep but his voice was crisp.
'What is it, Kyller?'
'The gunnery officer reports the enemy will be within range in fifteen minutes.' Von Kleine swivelled his stool and looked quickly about his ship. Above him the smoke poured from every funnel, and from the mouth of each stack a volcano of sparks and shimmering heat blew steadily. The paint had blistered and peeled from the metal of the funnels and they glowed red hot, even in the sunlight.
Blitcher was straining herself far beyond the limits her makers had set. God alone knew what injury this constant running at full speed was doing her, and von Kleine winced as he felt her tremble in protest beneath him.
He turned his eyes astern. The British cruiser was hull up on the horizon now. The difference in their speeds must be a small fraction of a knot, but Blucher's superiority in fire power was enormous.
For a moment he allowed himself to ponder the arrogance of a nation that constantly, almost by choice, matched their men and ships against unnatural odds.
Always they sent terriers to fight against wolfhounds. Then he smiled, you had to be English or mad, to understand the English.
He glanced out to starboard. The British destroyer had worked out on to his flank. It could do little harm from there.
'Very well, Kyller.. He stood as he spoke.
'Bridge Engine Room,' the voice-tube squealed.
'Engine Room Bridge. 'Kyller turned to it.
'Our port main bearing is running red hot. I must shut down our port engine!' The words struck von Kleine like a bucket of iced water thrown down his back. He leaped to the voice tube
'This is the Captain. I must have full power for another hour!'
'I can't do it, siR. Another fifteen minutes and the main drive shaft will seize up. God knows what damage it will do.' For five seconds von
Kleine hunched silently over the voice-tube. His mind raced. On one engine Blucher would lose ten knots on her speed. The enemy would be able to manoeuvre about him freely possibly hold off until nightfall and then... He must attack immediately; turn on them and press his attack home with all his armament.
'Give me full power for as long as you can,' he snapped, and then turning to the gunnery officer's tube, 'This is the Captain. I am turning four points to starboard, and will keep the enemy directly on our starboard beam for the next fifteen minutes. After that I will be forced to reduce speed.
Open fire when you bear.' Von Kleine snapped the cover closed and turned to his yeoman of signals. 'Hoist the battle ensign!' He spoke softly, without heat, but there were lights in his eyes like those in a blue sapphire.
here she goes!' whispered Charles Little without lowering his glasses. Upon the black turrets of the- gun-fire gleamed and sparkled without sound. Quickly he traversed his glasses across the surface of the sea until he found Orion. She was plunging in eagerly,
narrowing the gap very rapidly between herself and Blucher.
In another seven minutes she would be able to return the German's fire.
Suddenly, a quarter of a mile ahead of her, there rose from the sea a series of tall columns, stately as the columns of a Greek temple,
