'Now what the devil's been happening in the last watch and where's the Commander?' Cousens demanded.
Tm sorry to say there's been a mutiny,' said Gregory.
'Yes, that's plain enough, but where are the First Lieutenant and Broughton, that's what I want to know?'
'Prisoners, unfortunately, in the hands of the mutineers. They rushed the bridge and collared them both, while I was trying to quell the trouble on the lower deck.'
'The devil they did they darn near got me, too. When I left my cabin I went to the wardroom to get my cocoa before taking over, and there were the matloes with both the magazine hatches up and passing arms out on deck through the after ammunition hand up hatch. They chased me out on deck and your sentries damn near stuck their bayonets through my ribs.'
'Well, if they've got to the magazines we're in for real trouble; they've got control of the after steering position too, and disconnected the forward steering gear.'
'I guessed that from what little I saw on deck. Of course I'm in command here until we can get the Commander released but I'd be glad to have your views on what you meant to do, sir.' The sailor was regaining his breath and his temper. The furrows which ringed Sallust's mouth deepened into a smile as he noted the 'sir' and the ease with which his story had got over.
'I had meant to send one of my officers with a detachment of men to endeavour to regain control of the after part of the ship,” he said slowly, 'but since you've turned up perhaps it would be better if you took the job on yourself. It's much more likely that the mutineers will listen to one of their own officers you may be able to persuade them to stop this idiocy.'
'That's true. Anyhow I'll have a cut at it.'
'Good! I can let you have eight men. I must keep the rest to man the Lewis guns. We'll cover you with them if it comes to a fight and you have to retreat.'
Sallust called Harker over to him and gave instructions. The troops were turned out from the chart house and the Lieutenant went aft with eight of them. The remainder lined the bridge, peering anxiously into the darkness.
All except the navigating lights had been put out on the deck and only the reflected glow from the scuttles on the rushing waters afforded any illumination. The ship raced swiftly through the foam which swished and rustled with a continuous quiet hissing noise against her sides, while Gregory strained his tired eyes into the shadows.
The parley aft was brief. Cousens addressed the men, but Crowder gruffly told him to get back forward and mind his own business if he valued his skin. The Lieutenant raised the rifle which he had taken from one of Sallust's Tommies but there was a sharp crack. Private Brisket who stood by Crowder had seen the motion and the N.O. pitched forward shot through the chest.
There was a sudden crash of shots as the troops replied and other mutineers joined in. Sallust's men were hopelessly outnumbered; another fell, and the remainder bolted, scrambling and tumbling back towards the bridge.
'Ready,' sang out Gregory. He paused a moment, giving the Lieutenant's party time to get clear, then as the mutineers surged forward he bellowed: 'Fire!'
The machine guns opened and the troops joined in with their rifles, aiming for the dark smudges of shadow that slipped from cover to cover on the after deck.
Above the din came a scream and then a blasphemous curse.
'Cease fire,' ordered Gregory; he had no wish to waste his ammunition and. knew that he had taken toll of the enemy.
For a moment there was silence and not a movement to be seen. Then a spasmodic fire was opened by the mutineers from their shelter behind the funnels and torpedo tubes.
'Get down,' barked Gregory, and as the bullets came spattering against the superstructure of the bridge its defenders flung themselves upon the deck. Sallust alone remained upright, miraculously immune from the bullets as he continued the direction of operations.
Kenyon felt a slight perspiration break out upon his forehead at this, his first experience of being under fire, and with one hand pushed back his rebellious auburn hair; with the other he instinctively fumbled for his cigarettes.
'For Gawd's sake put that out, sir,' came a hoarse whisper as he struck a match. It was Rudd crouching beside him in the darkness and in some strange way he felt comforted.
Gregory's voice came again: 'All ranks! pick your marks. Three round rapid Fire!'
The kneeling figures rose and suddenly there was a crashing blast of fire. The bullets snapped and rattled as they hit the steel deck and the after part of the ship was subjected to a rain of lead. Yet even as it ceased the return fire leapt out again.
There were numerous casualties now on both sides, and the groans of the wounded were mingled with the screams of pain as the bullets found a human mark.
At Gregory's orders the machine guns opened once more, pouring another belt apiece into the darkness amidships. They gibbered and chattered like street drills gone mad, while their leaden stream clanged and whistled as it struck and ricocheted upon the metal fitments of the ship.
Then from the starboard quarter there came a blinding flash, a shrill screech a few feet overhead, and almost instantly the crack of an exploding shell.
Kenyon crouching on the bridge, caught a glimpse of Sallust's face. The muscles about the mouth had tightened suddenly with the swift realisation that any moment might bring annihilation to them all. The mutineers had manned one of the two pounder Pom Pom anti aircraft guns, and turned it on the bridge.
'All ranks concentrate on flash rapid fire!' came the General's last desperate order, but it was too late.
A scorching sheet of flame leapt up on Kenyon's left, accompanied by a thunderous, ear splitting detonation. The bridge rocked beneath him as he was flung sprawling to the port end. Even the ship seemed to shudder for a second as it ploughed its way through the sea. Another followed and another, at hardly a second's interval. The night was livid with a blinding series of explosions, the air foul with the acrid, choking fumes.
When they ceased the deck house had almost completely disappeared, the binnacle and telegraphs were a twisted mass of brass and copper, while a hundred cries of pain and triumph seemed to rend the air at the same moment. Pandemonium had broken loose.
'Abandon bridge,' yelled a voice above the din. 'Come on, now make it snappy. All hands on the fo’c’sle, they won't be able to shell you there.' It was Silas Gonderport Harker, who had taken charge on the silence of the General.
Kenyon struggled out from beneath Chief Petty Officer Wilkins who had been flung on top of him. The sailor's leg had been broken at the thigh by a flying fragment of shell and he was whimpering pitifully. As Kenyon raised his head the whimpering ceased, the body twitched and lay still.
'I got ter get Mr, Sallust,' croaked a hoarse voice and Kenyon turned to find Rudd still beside him.
'No good,' he gasped, 'he'll be dead for certain, and they'll be putting more shells into that deck house in a second. Get off this blasted bridge, while there's still time.'
'Not me, sir, 'e's my officer an' I ain't goin' without 'im.'
'All right I'll help you,' muttered Kenyon thickly.
Cries, shouts and groans came from every side as they crawled along the bridge. The canvas screens had caught fire and lit the tumult in a lurid glare, the sickly smell of fresh spilled blood came strongly to their nostrils. The survivors were tumbling over one another in their efforts to get down the ladders.
The chart house, when they reached it, was a shambles. Half a dozen twisted bodies lay with mangled limbs and white distorted faces; Gregory was among them, his left leg doubled unnaturally back beneath his body, a trickle of blood running from one ear. They dragged his limp form from among the others without pausing to see if he was alive or dead, and lugged him between them to the port ladder.