"No fear," replied Cavendish, catching a glimpse of the _Armentières_' outlines in the flash of the gun. "Watertight bulkheads are holding." Cavendish was now almost unconscious of the peril that threatened the _Messines_. The plight of the _Armentières_ had displaced all other thoughts. He felt himself speculating as to what ought to be done and what he would do had he been commanding-officer of the _Messines_. Lieutenant-Commander Trehallow was grappling with a similar problem, but in his case he was quick to act. To attempt to seek safety in flight and leave the crippled destroyer to fall an easy prey to her attackers never entered into his calculations. He was debating whether to run alongside the _Armentières_ and remove her crew, or whether to attempt to take the sorely damaged craft in tow. The while bombs were dropping rapidly, but the enemy airmen were either novices at the game or were too excited to act with deliberation. The nearest of the terrible missiles fell not less than eighty yards away, turning the otherwise calm sea into a maelstrom of smoke-laden spray. The second phase of the attack passed. The airmen had overshot their quarry and were turning to approach in the eye of the wind once more. Trehallow rang for easy ahead, shouting to the quarter-master to lay the _Messines_ alongside her consort. It was a difficult operation in the darkness, but with admirable skill and judgment the Lieutenant-Commander succeeded in his manoeuvre. "Prepare to be taken in tow," he roared through a megaphone. A greatcoated figure on the _Armentières_' deck raised his hand in acknowledgment. Men dashed on to her fo'c'sle to receive the heaving-lines. The wire hawsers were hauled aboard and shackled to the towing strops with the utmost dispatch, but without confusion. Here again discipline told. Gently the _Messines_ forged ahead until the strain on the hawsers was taken up. Then, in obedience to an order, dense clouds of smoke issued from both vessels, enveloping them like a pall. Under cover of the smoke-screen--one of the recognized appliances of modern naval warfare--the two destroyers made a bid for safety. The odds were now in their favour. A single aeroplane might venture to attack through that lofty, dense, suffocating bank of artificial fog. More would stand a serious risk of collision. And, apart from having no visible target, an attacking aircraft would quickly loose all sense of direction while within the limits of the smoke-cloud. Trehallow's next move was to send a wireless message to the _Basilikon_, requesting the light cruiser to keep away. It would be useless devotion on the part of the latter to run the risk of being destroyed by aerial bombs under cover of night.