REDUCED IT TO ATOMS

CHAPTER I

THE "SCRAPPED" CRUISER

It was half-past eight on a May morning. The sun was obscured in a dense haze that the light south-westerly breeze failed to disperse.

Spithead lay enshrouded in the sea-fog, while from the deck of H.M. torpedo-boat destroyer Frome neither the low-lying land upon which Portsmouth is built nor the undulating downs of the Isle of Wight were visible.

"Boyne Buoy on the starboard bow, sir," reported the look-out.

"Thanks be!" ejaculated Lieutenant-Commander Douglas Drake to his companion, Sub-Lieutenant Paul Fielding. "I shan't be sorry to turn in."

The Frome had been out for night-firing off the Medmery Bank, but ill-luck in the guise of a fog accompanied her. For hours she cruised up and down, waiting for the bank of impenetrable haze to lift, while her consort, the Calder, was standing by ready to take the canvas target in tow.

It was a nerve-racking job, forging slowly ahead in the fog. In a heavy sea, provided the weather be sufficiently clear to enable the officer of the watch to pick up the various lights, the discomfort, even when battened down, is nothing compared with the blindworm tactics of keeping steerage way in a shut-in sky of dark grey clammy vapour.

"By George! It is clearing," exclaimed Fielding. "Surely that is Southsea Castle ahead."

"You're right. I only hope the admiral won't order us out to-morrow night."

"By the mark ten!" shouted the leadsman in the monotonous drawl that seamen affect when engaged in sounding.

"Fairly in the channel, thank goodness. How's that for navigation, Mr. Cardyke?" asked the lieutenant, turning to a midshipman who stood beside him on the diminutive bridge.

"Ripping, sir," replied the lad. "I suppose we'll be able to play on Friday?"

"I hope so," rejoined Drake. "We must bear a hand in licking the Sixth Division if it's humanly possible."

Lieutenant Douglas Drake was well under thirty years of age. Although "frightfully keen" on his duties, and a stickler for naval etiquette, he was at times almost boyish in manner. His chief fault—if fault it might be termed—was excessive self-confidence. That quality was undoubtedly an asset in the old lay-alongside-and-board-'em days; but in modern naval tactics, based upon hard and fast scientific lines, a blind reliance upon one's personal qualifications is apt to lead a man into trouble. There are occasions, of course, when self-confidence has its advantages. But woe-betide the unfortunate individual who, through blind "cocksureness," jeopardised his command and failed to achieve his object.

Drake had influence behind him, and with influence behind him a hare-brained young officer might do certain things with impunity that would soon bring him under the ban of official displeasure had he not someone of importance to back him. On the other hand, influence tends to make a man unpopular with his brother officers. Drake realised this, and acted accordingly; but although he succeeded to a certain extent in winning the regard of his comrades, he was often the victim of a harmless practical joke whenever the opportunity arose.

Sub-Lieutenant Paul Fielding was, on the other hand, a cautious man. He had need to be, since he had nothing in the shape of influence at his back. He was a strict disciplinarian, somewhat inclined to be off-handish at times, yet a true comrade and a loyal supporter of his superior officer. Fired by Drake's enthusiasm he began to acquire the belief that when an opportunity did occur the little Frome would acquit herself in a style worthy of the best traditions of the Service—and the time was at hand when his capacity was to be tried to the uttermost.

Arnold Cardyke, the midshipman "lent" to the destroyer, was a dark-featured, athletic-looking youth of sixteen. He was slightly above middle height, broad-shouldered and deep-chested, and was as hard as the proverbial nail. He was the son of an admiral, who himself was one of a long line of naval officers—for Cardykes were to be found in the Royal Navy in a continuous, and often multifold, line from the reign of King William III.

The young midshipman was doubly anxious for the Frome to be detained in harbour in order to effect the long outstanding periodical refit. One reason was that he wanted to go on leave to meet his brother, who was "paying off" after a two years' commission on the Pacific Station; the other was that he was exceedingly keen on cricket, and, with the reputation of being one of the best bats in the First Dartmouth Team, he was regarded as a pillar of strength in the forthcoming match between the officers of the Fifth and Sixth Torpedo-boat Destroyer Flotillas.

Of course, had there been any special duty to perform on board the Frome Cardyke would have cheerfully foregone both of the anticipated pleasures but, with the exception of the night-firing practice—which could be performed any time during the forthcoming six weeks—there was nothing likely to occur.

Arnold Cardyke was very proud of the honour of being "lent" to the Frome, which was one of the very latest "New River" class. She was 120 ft. over all, with a turtle-back deck fore and aft, a strikingly fine entry, and a pointed, cutaway stern. Funnels she had none, being propelled by the most up-to-date Diesel motors. At the after end of the fore turtle-deck was the gun platform, mounting two eleven-pounder automatic weapons, so arranged that they could command an arc of 210 degs. of the horizon, and could be trained to fire skywards up to within 10 degs. of a vertical line.