“Stand-by torpedo attack!” the order rapped out.
Not more than half a mile away, bulking huge at that close range, came the enemy cruiser.
“Port thirty,” he snapped down the voice pipe, and over his shoulder at the torpedo officer “Fire when your sights come on!” Torps was crouched over his pronged sight. His voice came crisp and clear: “Fire one, fire two, fire three, fire four ...”
“Midships!” the captain roared.
The wheel came off her, and at once she heaved up from her acute lean. Then Pelican’s ancient guns snapped their challenge at the grey monster racing alongside them.
And, clear in the silence between broadsides, a sharp buzzing from the engine-room voice pipe. Pilot answered it and Dutchy Holland heard the chief’s voice from where he stood.
“Bridge. That bloody bearing’s gone. I’ve got to shut down on the starb’d engine.”
Pilot stared at Holland and the captain raised his hand in acknowledgement. He did not speak: he could not speak. There was nothing to say.