Hard a-starboard went the helm. With the port propeller running full-speed ahead and the starboard one half-speed astern, M.-L. 4452 spun round almost in her own length, just missing an undesirable acquaintance in the shape of a 6-inch shell that ricochetted and threw up a terrific column of spray within six feet of her bows. Compared with the dash into the harbour the return journey was a horrible nightmare. The haunting possibility of being knocked-out recurred tenfold. The crew of the M.-L. no longer had their faces to the foe, they were literally running for safety, and exposed to blows in the back without being able to raise a finger in self-defence. "There's the boat, by Jove!" exclaimed Branscombe. "Where? How's she bearing?" asked the Lieutenant, for he was partly blinded by blood flowing from a gash in his forehead. Like his Sub, Farnborough hardly realized that he had been hit. Telegraphing for "easy" and then "stop" the skipper brought his craft to a standstill within boat-hook stave's length of a water-logged dingy. Clinging to the partly submerged gunwale were two men. "She's not a cutter, you juggins!" exclaimed Farnborough. "I believe those fellows are rotten Huns." He was about to telegraph for "Full-speed-ahead both engines", when Branscombe gripped his arm. "It's old Seton, by smoke!" he shouted, in order to make himself heard above the din. Quickly the well-nigh exhausted men were assisted over the side, Seton minus a little finger, and the R.A.F. officer with a bullet wound completely through his left shoulder. It was no time for explanations. Like a thing endowed with life M.-L. 4452 leapt forward. She was now on the point of repassing the badly-damaged lighthouse on the Mole-head. Here Huns, no longer in danger of being strafed by the _Vindictive's_ landing-parties, were frantically blazing away with their quick-firers and machine-guns. A 4.1 shell fired at point-blank range furrowed the fore-deck and, without exploding, passed completely through the side a few inches above the water-line. Another blew the M.-L.'s "tin" dinghy into the sea, davits and all; while a third, striking the stern, smashed the quadrant of the steering-gear and blew off the head of the rudder. M.-L. 4452 began to describe a large circle, her head falling off until she pointed straight for the Mole. To attempt to keep her on her course by means of the helm was an impossibility, for not only had the spare tiller--for use when as sometimes happened the steering-wires and chains carried away--shared the fate of the davits, but the rudder-head itself was bent and twisted by the explosion of the shell. Immediately the ship was hit Branscombe made his way aft to investigate and report. He was back in the wheel-house just in time to find Farnborough and the coxswain lying motionless on the floor, and the M.-L., left to her own devices, circling to port.