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diff --git a/33438-h/33438-h.htm b/33438-h/33438-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6abc74c --- /dev/null +++ b/33438-h/33438-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10529 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Sea-Hounds, by Lewis R. Freeman. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center; border-style: none;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sea-Hounds, by Lewis R. Freeman + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sea-Hounds + +Author: Lewis R. Freeman + +Release Date: August 15, 2010 [EBook #33438] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEA-HOUNDS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Bergquist, David J. Cole and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Decorative cover" style="border:0" title="" height="600" width="387" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> + +<h2>SEA-HOUNDS</h2> + +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a name="BBOP" id="BBOP"><img src="images/fsp.jpg" + alt="BRITISH BATTLE-SHIPS ON PATROL" style="border:0" + title="BRITISH BATTLE-SHIPS ON PATROL" + height="600" width="468" /></a> +</div> + +<h4>BRITISH BATTLE-SHIPS ON PATROL</h4> + +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> + +<h1>SEA-HOUNDS</h1> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>LEWIS R. FREEMAN</h2> + +<h3>Lieut. R.N.V.R.</h3> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<h5>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS FROM</h5> +<h5>PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR</h5> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/colophon.jpg" alt="Colophon" title="" + height="183" width="200" /> +</div> + + +<p><br /></p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<h3>NEW YORK</h3> + +<h2>DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY</h2> + +<h3>1919</h3> + +<p><br /></p> + +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Published in the U.S.A 1919</span></h3> +<h3>By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, <span class="smcap">Inc.</span></h3> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<h2><b>To</b></h2> + +<h3>Commodore Sir DOUGLAS BROWNRIGG, Bart.</h3> +<h3>C.B., R.N., Chief Censor, Admiralty</h3> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> + +<table cellspacing="10" summary="Contents"> + <col width="13%" /> <col width="75%" /> <col width="12%" /> +<tr><td align="right"><span class="smcap">Chapter</span></td> <td></td> <td align="right">PAGE</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><big>I</big></td> <td><span class="smcap"><big><a href="#CHAPTER_I">The Men Who Changed Ships</a></big></span></td> <td align="right">1</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><big>II</big></td> <td><span class="smcap"><big><a href="#CHAPTER_II">“Firebrand”</a></big></span></td> <td align="right">35</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><big>III</big></td> <td><span class="smcap"><big><a href="#CHAPTER_III">Back from the Jaws</a></big></span></td> <td align="right">59</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><big>IV</big></td> <td><span class="smcap"><big><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">Hunting</a></big></span></td> <td align="right">82</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><big>V</big></td> <td><span class="smcap"><big><a href="#CHAPTER_V">The Convoy Game</a></big></span></td> <td align="right">112</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><big>VI</big></td> + <td><a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><span class="smcap"><big>Yank Boat</big></span> <i><small>VERSUS</small></i> <span class="smcap"><big>U-Boat</big></span></a></td> + <td align="right">135</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><big>VII</big></td> <td><span class="smcap"><big><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">Adriatic Patrol</a></big></span></td> <td align="right">157</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><big>VIII</big></td> <td><span class="smcap"><big><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">Patrol</a></big></span></td> <td align="right">173</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><big>IX</big></td> <td><span class="smcap"><big><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">“Q”</a></big></span></td> <td align="right">199</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><big>X</big></td> <td><span class="smcap"><big><a href="#CHAPTER_X">The <i>Whack</i> and the <i>Smack</i></a></big></span></td> <td align="right">232</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><big>XI</big></td> <td><span class="smcap"><big><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">Bombed!</a></big></span></td> <td align="right">250</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><big>XII</big></td> <td><span class="smcap"><big><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">Against Odds</a></big></span></td> <td align="right">268</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><big>XIII</big></td> <td><span class="smcap"><big><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">Rounding up Fritz</a></big></span></td> <td align="right">287</td></tr> +</table> + +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> + + + <h3>ILLUSTRATIONS</h3> + + +<table cellspacing="10" summary="List of illustrations"> +<col width="75%" /> <col width="25%" /> + +<tr><td><a href="#BBOP">British Battleships on Patrol</a></td> <td align="right"><i>Frontispiece</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td></td> <td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#GERMANSHELLS">German Shells Striking the Water at the Battle of Jutland</a></td> <td align="right">12</td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#BROADSIDE">A Broadside at Night at the Battle of Jutland</a></td> <td align="right">12</td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#PAWS">“Kamerading” with Uplifted Paws</a></td> <td align="right">90</td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#PEEL">Helping the Cook to Peel Potatoes</a></td> <td align="right">90</td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#LINER">Where the Great Liner Plowed Along</a></td> <td align="right">128</td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#BRICKWALL">We Had Collided with the “Brick Wall”</a></td> <td align="right">128</td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#BASE">Now She Was Back at Base</a></td> <td align="right">128</td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#CANS">A Limit to the Number of “Cans” a Destroyer Can Carry</a></td> <td align="right">152</td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#DEPTHCHARGE">A Depth Charge</a></td> <td align="right">188</td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#TOW">Disabled Destroyer in Tow</a></td> <td align="right">188</td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#LOOKOUT">The Lookout on a Destroyer, and Part of His View</a></td> <td align="right">242</td></tr> + +<tr><td><a href="#BOWLING">She Came Bowling Along Under Sail</a></td> <td align="right">284</td></tr> +</table> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p> <!-- Page 1 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<h1>SEA HOUNDS</h1> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>THE MEN WHO CHANGED SHIPS</h3> + + +<p>Between the lighter-load of burning beeves +that came bumping down along their line at +noon, a salvo of bombs slapped across +them at one o’clock from a raiding Bulgar air +squadron, a violent Levantine squall which all but +broke them loose from their moorings at sundown, +and a signal to raise steam for full speed with all +dispatch at midnight, it had been a rather exciting +twelve hours for the destroyers of the First Division +of the ——th Flotilla, and now, when at dawn +the expected order to proceed to sea was received, +it began to look as though there might be still further +excitement in pickle down beyond the horizontal +blur where the receding wall of the paling +purple night-mist was uncovering the Gulf’s hard, +flat floor of polished indigo.</p> + +<p>“It’s probably the same old thing,” said the captain +of the <i>Spark</i>, repressing a yawn after he had +given the quartermaster his course to enter the +labyrinthine passage where puffing trawlers were +towing back the gates of the buoyed barrages, “a<!-- Page 2 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> +U-boat or two making a bluff at attacking a convoy. +They’ve been sinking a good deal more than we can +afford to lose; last week they got an oiler and +another ship with the whole summer’s supply of +mosquito-netting aboard—but that was off the south +peninsula of Greece or up Malta way. Here they +haven’t more than ‘demonstrated’ about the mouth +of the Gulf for two or three months. They know +jolly well that if they once come inside, no matter +if they do sink a ship or two, that it’s a hundred +to one—between sea-planes, ‘blimps,’ P.B.s, and +destroyers—against their ever getting out again. +There’s just a chance that they may try it this +time, though, for they must know how terribly +short the whole Salonika force is of petrol, and +what a real mess things will be left in if they can +pot even one of the two or three oilers in this convoy. +You’ll see a merry chase with a kill at the +end of it if they do, I can promise you, for the convoy +is beyond the neck of the bag even now, and if +a single Fritz has come in after them, the string +will be pulled and the rest of the game will be +played out here in the ‘bull-ring.’”</p> + +<p>The captain had just started telling me how the +game was played, when the W.T.<span class="fnanchor"> <a name="footnotea" id="footnotea"></a><a href="#foota">[A]</a></span> room called him +on the voice-pipe to say that one of the ships of the +convoy had just been torpedoed and was about to +sink, and shortly afterwards a radio was received +from the C.-in-C. ordering the flotilla to proceed to +<!-- Page 3 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>hunt the submarine responsible for the trouble. +Then the officer commanding the division leader +flashed his orders by “visual” to the several units +of the flotilla, and presently these were spreading +fan-wise to sweep southward toward where, sixty to +a hundred miles away, numerous drifters would be +dropping mile after mile of light nets across the +straits leading out to the open Mediterranean. +Northeastward, where the rising sun was beginning +to prick into vivid whiteness the tents of the +great hospital areas, several sea-planes were circling +upwards; and southeastward, above the dry +brown hills of the Cassandra peninsula, the silver +bag of an air-ship floated across the sky like a soaring +tumble bug. The hounds of the sea and air had +begun to stalk their quarry.</p> +<div class="footnote"><a name="foota" id="foota"></a> +<a href="#footnotea">[A]</a> Wireless Telegraph +</div> + +<p>“It’s a biggish sort of a place to hunt over,” +said the captain, as the <i>Spark</i> stood away on a +course that formed the outside left rib of the +flotilla’s “fan,” and took her in to skirt the rocky +coast of Cassandra; “and there’s so many in the +hunt that the chances are all in favour of some +other fellow getting the brush instead of you. +And unless we have the luck to do some of the +flushing ourselves, I won’t promise you that the +whole show won’t prove no end of a bore; and even +if we do scare him up—well, there are a good many +more exciting things than dropping ‘ash-cans’ on +a frightened Fritzie. It won’t be a circumstance, +for instance, to that rough house we ran into at the<!-- Page 4 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +‘White Tower’ last night when that boxful of +French ‘blue-devils’ wouldn’t stop singing ‘Madelon’ +when the couchee-couchee dancer’s turn +began, and her friend, the Russian colonel in the +next box, started to dissolve the Entente by——”</p> + +<p>The captain broke off suddenly and set the alarm +bell going as a lynx-eyed lookout cut in with “Connin’ +tower o’ submreen three points on port bow,” +and, with much banging of boots on steel decks and +ladders, the ship had gone to “Action Stations” +before a leisurely mounting recognition rocket revealed +the fact that the “enemy” was a friend, +doubtless a “co-huntress.”</p> + +<p>Although we were still far from where there was +yet any chance of encountering the U-boat which +had attacked the convoy, there were two or three +alarms in the course of the next hour. The first +was when we altered our course to avoid a torpedo +reported as running to strike our port bow, to discover +an instant later that the doughty <i>Spark</i> was +turning away from a gambolling porpoise. The +second was when some kind of a long-necked sea-bird +rose from a dive about two hundred yards on +the starboard beam and created an effect so like a +finger-periscope with its following “feather” that +it drew a shell from the foremost gun which all but +blew it out of the water. It was my remarking the +smartness with which this gun was served that led +the captain, when a floating mine was reported a +few minutes later, to order that sinister menace to<!-- Page 5 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +be destroyed by shell-fire rather than, as usual, by +shots from a rifle. All the guns which would bear +were given an even start in the race to hit the +wickedly horned hemisphere as we brought it +abeam at a range of six or eight hundred yards; +but the lean, keen crew of the pet on the forecastle—splashing +the target with their first shot +and detonating it with their second—won in a walk +and left the others nothing but a hundred-feet-high +geyser of smoke-streaked spray tumbling +above a heart of flame to pump their tardier shells +into.</p> + +<p>The captain gazed down with a smile of affectionate +pride to where the winners, having trained their +gun back amidships, were wiping its smoky nose, +sponging out its mouth, polishing its sleek barrel, +and patting its shiny breech, for all the world as +though they were grooms and stable-boys and +jockeys performing similar services for the Derby +winner just led back to his stall.</p> + +<p>“There’s not another such four-inch gun’s crew +as that one in any ship in the Mediterranean,” he +said, “which makes it all the greater pity that +they have never once had a chance to fire a shot at +anything of the enemy’s any larger than that Bulgar +bombing plane they cocked up and took a pot at +after he had gone over yesterday. I mean that they +never had a chance as a crew. Individually, I believe +there are two or three of them that have been +through some of the hottest shows in the war. That<!-- Page 6 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +slender chap there in the blue overall was in the +<i>Killarney</i> when she was shot to pieces and sunk +by German cruisers at Jutland, and I believe his +Number Two—that one in a singlet, with his sleeves +rolled up and just a bit of a limp—was in the +<i>Seagull</i> when she was rammed, right in the middle +of an action with the Huns, by both the <i>Bow</i> and +the <i>Wreath</i>. A number of ratings from the <i>Seagull</i> +clambered over the forecastle of the <i>Bow</i> while +the two were locked together, evidently because +they thought their own ship was going down, +while two or three men from the <i>Bow</i> were thrown +by the force of the collision on to the <i>Seagull</i>. +When the two broke loose and drifted apart men +from each of them were left on the other, and by a +rather interesting coincidence, we have right here +in the <i>Spark</i> at this moment representatives of both +batches. They, with two or three other Jutland +‘veterans’ who chance also to be in the <i>Spark</i>, call +themselves the ‘Black Marias.’ Just why, I’m not +quite sure, but I believe it has something to do with +their all being finally picked up by one destroyer +and carried back to harbour like a lot of drunks +after a night’s spree. And, to hear them talk of +it when they get together, that is the spirit in +which they affect to regard a phase of the Jutland +battle which wiped out some scores of their +mates and two or three of the destroyers of their +flotilla. Talking with one of them alone, he will +occasionally condescend to speak of the serious side<!-- Page 7 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +of the show, but their joint reminiscences, in the +constant by-play of banter, are more suggestive of +tumultuous ‘nights of gladness’ on the beach at +Port Said or Rio than the most murderous spasm +of night fighting in the whose course of naval history. +You’ve got a long and probably tiresome day +ahead of you. Perhaps it might ease the monotony +a bit if you had a yarn with two or three of them. +They’ll be bored stiff standing by in this blazing +sun with small prospects of anything turning up, +and probably easier to draw out than at most times. +Gains, there by the foremost gun, would be a good +one for a starter. There is no doubt of his having +seen some minutes of the real thing in the <i>Killarney</i>. +Only don’t try a frontal attack on him. +Just saunter along and start talking about anything +else on earth than Jutland and the <i>Killarney</i>, +and then lead him round by degrees.”</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>We were just passing the riven wreck of a large +freighter as I sidled inconsequently along to the +forecastle, and the strange way in which the stern +appeared to be stirring to the barely perceptible +swell gave ample excuse for turning to the crew of +the foremost gun for a possible explanation. It +was Leading Seaman Gains, as incisive of speech as +he was quick of movement, who replied, and I +recognized him at once as a youth of force and personality, +one of the type to whom the broadened opportunities +for quick promotion offered the Lower<!-- Page 8 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +Deck through the war has given a new outlook on +life.</p> + +<p>“She was a tramp with a cargo of American +mules for the Serbs, sir,” he said, “and she was +submarined two or three miles off shore. The +mouldie cracked her up amidships, but her back +didn’t break till she grounded on that sand spit +there. At first her stern sank till her poop was +awash at high tide—there’s only a few feet rise +and fall here, as you probably know, sir—but when +the bodies of the mules that had been drowned +’tween decks began to swell they blocked up all +the holes and finally generated so much gas that +the increased buoyancy lifted the keel of the stern +half clear of the bottom and left it free to move +with the seas. I have heard they intend to blow +out her bottom and sink her proper for fear that +end of her might float off in a storm and turn +derelict.”</p> + +<p>That story was, as I learned later, substantially +true, but it had just enough of the fantastic in it to +tempt the twinkling eyed “Number Two” to a bit +of embroidery on his own account. He was the one +with the muscular forearms and the slight limp. +The suggestion of “New World” accent in his +speech was traceable, he subsequently told me, to +the many years he had spent on the Esquimault +station in British Columbia.</p> + +<p>“They do say, sir,” he said solemnly, rubbing +hard at an imaginary patch of inferior refulgency<!-- Page 9 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +on the shining breech of his gun, “that she’s that +light and jumpy with mule-gas, after the sun’s been +beating on her poop all day, that she lifts right up +in the air and tugs at her moorings like a kite +balloon. And there’s one buzz winging round that +they’re going to run a pipe-line to her end and use +the gas for inflating——”</p> + +<p>Gains, evidently feeling that there were limits to +which the credulity of a landsman should be imposed +upon, cut in coldly and crushingly with: +“She’s not the only old wreck ’round here that they +could draw on for ‘mule-gas’ if there’s ever need +of it, my boy; and as for her rising under her own +power—well, if she ever goes as far as you did +under yours the night you jumped from the <i>Seagull</i> +to the <i>Bow</i> I’ll——”</p> + +<p>The gusty guffaw that drowned the rest of Gains’ +broadside left us all on good terms, and, by a +happy chance, with the “Jutland ice” already +broken. Number Two, joining heartily in the +laugh, said that, “nifty” as was his jump from +the <i>Seagull</i> to the <i>Bow</i>, it wasn’t a “starter” to +the “double back-action-summerset” with which +Jock Campbell was chucked from the <i>Bow</i> to the +<i>Seagull</i>. “We played a sort of ‘Pussy-Wants-a-Corner’ +exchange, Jock and me,” he said, “for +Jock was Number Four or ‘Trainer’ of the crew of +one of the fo’c’sle guns of the <i>Bow</i>, and I was the +same in the <i>Seagull</i>. We didn’t quite land in each +other’s place when the wallop came, but it wasn’t<!-- Page 10 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +far from it; and we each finished the scrap in the +other guy’s ship. You might pike aft and try to +get a yarn out of Jock when ‘Pack up!’ sounds. +He’s a close-mouthed tyke, though, and if you can +get him to tell how he played the human proj, you’ll +be doing more’n anyone else has been able to pull +off down to now. He’s half clam and half sphinx, +I think Jock is, and that makes a ‘dour lad’ when +crossed with a ‘Glasgie’ strain. Which makes it +all the sadder to have him qualify for membership +in the ‘Black Marias,’ and me, because I finished +in the <i>Bow</i>, froze out.”</p> + +<p>I told him that I would gladly have a try at +Jock later, provided only that he would first tell me +what happened in his own case, adding that it +wasn’t every British sailor who could claim the distinction +of fighting the Hun from two different +ships within the hour.</p> + +<p>“It would have been a darned sight better for me +if I’d confined my fighting to <i>one</i> ship,” he replied +with a wry smile, “and it was mighty little fighting +I got out of it anyhow. But sure, I’ll tell you what +I saw of the fracas, and then you can take a chance +at Jock. It was along toward midnight, and the +<i>Seagull</i> was steaming in ‘line ahead’ with her half +of the flotilla. The <i>Killarney</i> and <i>Firebrand</i> was +leading us, with the <i>Wreath</i> and one or two others +astern. I was at ‘action station’ with the crew of +the foremost gun, and keeping my eye peeled all +round, for some of the ships astern had just been<!-- Page 11 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +popping away at some Hun destroyers they had +reported. All of a sudden I saw the officers on the +bridge peering out to starboard, and there, coming +up astern of us and steering a converging course, I +saw the first, and right after, the second and third, +of a line of some big lumping ships—some kind of +cruisers. All of the flotilla must have thought they +was our own ships, for no one challenged or fired +all the time they came drawing up past us, making +four or five knots more than the seventeen we were +doing.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a name="GERMANSHELLS" id="GERMANSHELLS"><img src="images/illo01.jpg" + alt="GERMAN SHELLS STRIKING THE WATER AT THE BATTLE OF JUTLAND" + style="border:0" title="GERMAN SHELLS STRIKING THE WATER AT THE BATTLE OF JUTLAND" + height="364" width="600" /></a> +</div> + +<h4>GERMAN SHELLS STRIKING THE WATER AT THE BATTLE OF JUTLAND</h4> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a name="BROADSIDE" id="BROADSIDE"><img src="images/illo02.jpg" + alt="A BROADSIDE AT NIGHT AT THE BATTLE OF JUTLAND" + style="border:0" title="A BROADSIDE AT NIGHT AT THE BATTLE OF JUTLAND" + height="442" width="600" /></a> +</div> + +<h4>A BROADSIDE AT NIGHT AT THE BATTLE OF JUTLAND</h4> + +<p>“When the leader was about abreast the <i>Killarney</i> +and inside of half a mile range, she flashed +on some red and green lights, switched on her +searchlights and opened fire. Ship for ship, the +Huns were just about even with our line now, and +the <i>Firebrand</i> and <i>Seagull</i> must have launched +mouldies at the second and third cruisers at near +the same moment. Hitting at that range ships +running on parallel courses was a cinch, and both +slugs slipped home. It was some sight, those two +spouts of fire and smoke shooting up together, and +by the light of ’em I could see that the <i>Firebrand’s</i> +bag was a four-funneller, and ours a three. The +first one keeled right over and began to sink at +once, but the one our mouldie hit went staggering +on, though down by the stern and with a heavy +list to port.</p> + +<p>“We would sure have put the kibosh on this one +with the next torpedo if we hadn’t had to turn<!-- Page 12 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +sharp to port to avoid the <i>Killarney</i> just then, and +so missed our last chance to do something in ‘the +Great War.’ I lost sight of the <i>Firebrand</i> and took +it for granted she had been blown up. It was not +till a week afterwards that we learned she had +turned the other way, engaged one Hun cruiser +with gunfire, rammed another, just missed being +rammed by a third, and finally crawled into port +under her own steam.</p> + +<p>“The <i>Seagull</i> came under the searchlights of the +leading Hun cruiser for a few seconds as she came +up abreast of the burning <i>Killarney</i>, and then the +smoke and steam cut off the beam and I was blind +as a bat for a minute. The <i>Killarney</i> had been left +astern when I looked for her again, and seemed all +in, with fires all over her and only one gun yapping +away on her quarter-deck. I didn’t know it at the +time, but it was my old college friend, Gains, here, +who was passing the projes, for that pert little +piece. You’d never think it to look at him, would +you?” Gains, feigning to discover something +which needed adjustment in the training mechanism, +ducked his head behind the breech of his gun +at this juncture, and did not bob up again until a +resumption of the yarn deflected the centre of +interest back to Number Two.</p> + +<p>“Turning to port took us over into the line of the +other Division, and the first thing I knew the <i>Seagull</i> +had poked in and taken station astern of the +<i>Bow</i>, which was leading it. Just then some Hun +ship, I think it was the same one that strafed the<!-- Page 13 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +<i>Killarney</i>, opened on the <i>Bow</i> from starboard, the +bursting shell splashing all over her from the funnels +right for’ard. <i>Bow</i> turned sharp to port to +try to shake off the searchlights, and <i>Seagull</i> +altered at same time to keep from turning in her +wake and running into the shells she was side-stepping. +All of a sudden I saw another destroyer +steering right across our bows, and to keep from +ramming her the captain altered back to starboard. +That cleared her stern by an eyelash, but +the next second I saw that it was now only a question +of whether <i>Seagull</i> would ram <i>Bow</i>, or <i>Bow</i> +would ram <i>Seagull</i>. How a dished and done-for +quartermaster, falling across his wheel as he died, +decided it in favour of <i>Bow</i> I did not learn till later.</p> + +<p>“The Hun shells were tearing up the water +astern of the <i>Bow</i> for half a minute as she began to +close us; then they stopped, and the smash came +at the end of five or ten seconds of dead quiet. It +was pitchy dark, with the flicker of fires on the +deck of the <i>Bow</i> making trembly red splotches in +the smoke and steam. A sight I saw by the light +of one of those fires just before the wallop is my +main memory of all the hell I saw in the next +quarter hour. It has lasted just as if it was burned +into my brain with a hot iron, and it figures in one +way or other in every nightmare I’ve had since.”</p> + +<p>The humorous twinkle in the corner of the man’s +eye, which had persisted during all of his recital up<!-- Page 14 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +to this point, suddenly died out, and he was staring +into nothingness straight ahead of him, where the +picture his memory conjured up seemed to hang in +projection.</p> + +<p>“It was just before we struck,” he went on, +speaking slowly, and in an awed voice strangely in +contrast to the rather bantering tone he had +affected before; “and the bows of the <i>Bow</i> were +only ten or fifteen yards off, driving down on us in +the middle of the double wave of greeny-grey foam +they were throwing on both sides. By the light of +a fire burning in the wreck of her bridge I saw a lot +of bodies lying round on her fo’c’sl’, and right then +one of them picked itself up and stood on its feet. +It was a whole man from the chest up, and from a +bit below the waist down, but—for all that I could +see—nothing between. Of course, there must have +been an unbroken backbone to make a frame that +would stand up at all, but all the shot-away part +was in shadow, so I saw nothing from the chest to +the hips. It was just as if the head and shoulders +were floating in the air. I remember ’specially +that it held its cap crushed tight in one of its hands. +The face had a kind of a calm look on it at first. +Then it turned down and seemed to look at what +was gone, and I could see the mouth open as if to +holler. Then the crash came, and I didn’t see it +again till they were stitching it up in canvas with +a fire-bar before dropping it overside the next day. +I learned then that an 8-inch shell had done the<!-- Page 15 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +trick—rather a big order for one man to try to +stop.”</p> + +<p>He took a deep breath, blinked once or twice as +though to shut out the gruesome vision, and when +he resumed the corners of a sheepish grin were +cutting into and erasing the lines of horror that +had come to his face in describing it.</p> + +<p>“There’s no use of my claiming that I was +thrown over to the <i>Bow</i> by the shock,” he continued, +the twinkle flickering up in his eye again, +“like Jock was pitched over to the <i>Seagull</i>. That +<i>did</i> happen to three or four ratings from the <i>Seagull</i>, +though, one signalman and a chap standing +look-out being chucked all the way from the fore +bridge. But in the case of most of the twenty-three +of us who found ourselves adorning the <i>Bow’s</i> +fo’c’sl’ when the ships broke away, it was the result +of a ‘flap’ started by some ijits yelling that we +were cut in two and going down. What was more +natural, then, with the <i>Bow</i> looming up there big +and solid—she was a good sight larger than the +<i>Gull</i>—that the ‘rats’ should leave the sinking ship +for one that looked like she might go on floating for +a while. I’m not trying to make an excuse for what +happened, but only explaining it. The Lord knows +we paid a big enough price for it, anyhow.</p> + +<p>“The <i>Bow</i> hit us like a thousand o’ bricks just +before the bridge, and cut more than half-way +through to the port side. The shock seemed to +knock the deck right out from under my feet, and I<!-- Page 16 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +was slammed hard against the starboard wire rail, +which must have kept me from being ditched then +and there. A lot of the wreckage from the <i>Bow’s</i> +shot-up bridge showered down on the <i>Seagull’s</i> +fo’c’sl’, but my friend, Jock Campbell, floated down +on the side toward the bridge, so I had no chance +to welcome him. From where I was when I pulled +up to my feet, it looked as if the <i>Bow</i> only lacked +a few feet from cutting all the way through us, and +as soon as I saw her screws beating up the sea as +she tried to go astern, I had the feeling that the +whole fo’c’sl’ of the <i>Gull</i> must break off and sink +as soon as the ‘plug’ was pulled out. I was still +sitting tight, though, when that howl started that +we were already breaking off and going down, and—well, +I joined the rush, and it was just as easy +as stepping from a launch to the side of a quay. +I’m not trying to make out a case for anybody, but +the little bunch of us who climbed to the <i>Bow</i> from +that half-cut-off fo’c’sl’ sure had more excuse than +them that swarmed over from aft and leaving the +main solid lump of the ship. But we none of us +had no business clambering off till we were +ordered. In doing that we were only asking for +trouble, and we sure got it.</p> + +<p>“The fo’c’sl’ of the <i>Bow</i> was all buckled up in +waves from the collision, and there was a slipperiness +underfoot that I twigged didn’t come from sea +water just as soon as I stumbled over the bodies +lying round the wreck of the port foremost gun<!-- Page 17 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +where I climbed over. We couldn’t get aft very +well on account of the smashed bridge, and so the +bunch of us just huddled up there like a lot of +sheep, waiting for some one to tell us what to do. +The captain had already left the bridge and was +conning her from aft—or possibly the engine-room—at +this time. From the way she was shaking and +swinging, I knew they were trying to worry her +nose out, putting the engines astern, now one and +now the other. The clanking and the grinding was +something fierce, but pretty soon she began to +back clear.</p> + +<p>“It was just a minute or two before the <i>Bow</i> tore +free from her that the poor old <i>Gull</i> got the wallop +that was finally responsible for doing her in. This +was from a destroyer that came charging up out of +the night and wasn’t able to turn in time to clear +the <i>Gull’s</i> stern, with the result that she went +right through it. Her sharp stem slashed through +the quarterdeck like it was cutting bully beef, slicing +five or ten feet of it clean off, so that it fell +clear and sank. The jar of it ran through the whole +length of the <i>Seagull</i>, and I felt the quick kick of it +even in the <i>Bow</i>. In fact, I think the shock of this +second collision was the thing that finally broke +them clear of the first, for it was just after that I +saw the wreck of the <i>Seagull’s</i> bridge begin to slide +away along the <i>Bow’s</i> starboard bow, as what was +left of it wriggled clear.</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t much of a look I had at this last<!-- Page 18 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +destroyer, but I had a hunch even then that she was +the <i>Wreath</i>, who had been our next astern. It +wasn’t till a long time afterward that I learned for +certain that this was a fact. The <i>Wreath</i> had followed +us out of line when we turned to clear the +stopped and burning <i>Killarney</i>, and then, when we +messed up with the <i>Bow</i>, not having time to go +round, she had to take a short cut through the tail +feathers of the poor old <i>Seagull</i>. Then she tore +right on hell-for-leather hunting for Huns, for it’s +each ship for herself and the devil take the hind-most +in the destroyer game more than in any +other.</p> + +<p>“I saw the water boiling into the hole in the side +of the <i>Seagull</i> as the <i>Bow</i> backed away, and expected +every minute to see the for’rard end of her +break off and sink. But beyond settling down a lot +by the head, she still held together and still +floated. Bulkheads fore and aft were holding, it +looked like, and there was still enough ‘ship’ left +to carry on with. I could hardly believe my eyes +when I saw the blurred wreck of her begin to gather +stern way. But it was a fact. Though her rudder, +of course, was smashed or carried away, and though +she couldn’t go ahead without breaking in two, she +was still able to move through the water, and perhaps +even to steer a rough sort of course with her +screws. As it turned out, it wouldn’t have made +no difference whether we was in her or no; but +just the same it was blooming awful, standing<!-- Page 19 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +there and knowing that you’d left her while she +still had a kick in her. The ragged line where some +of the wrecked stern of her showed against the +phosphorescent glow of the churn of her screws—that +was my good-bye peep at all that was left of +the good old <i>Seagull</i>. Gains here, or Jock Campbell, +can tell you what her finish was. I don’t like +to talk about it.</p> + +<p>“Some of us tried to get aft as soon as we were +clear of the <i>Seagull</i>, but couldn’t make the grade +over the wreck of the bridge. As all the officers +and men who had been there had either been killed +or wounded, or had gone to the after steering position +they were now conning her from, we were as +much cut off from them as though we were on +another craft altogether. All the crews of her +fo’c’sl’ guns—or such of them as were still alive—were +in the same fix. So we just bunched up there +in the dark and waited. Some of the wounded were +in beastly shape, but there wasn’t much to be done +for them, even in the way of first aid. Some shipmates +of other times drifted together in the darkness, +and I remember ’specially—it was while I +was trying to tie up some guy’s scalp with the +sleeve of my shirt—hearing one of them telling +another of a wool mat he had just made, all with +ravellings from ‘Harry Freeman.’<span class="fnanchor"> <a name="footnoteb" id="footnoteb"></a><a href="#footb">[B]</a></span> Funny how +it’s the little things like that a man remembers. +<!-- Page 20 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>The gunner whose head I bound up was telling me +just how the <i>Bow</i> happened to be strafed, but it +went in one ear and out of the other.</p> +<div class="footnote"><a name="footb" id="footb"></a> +<a href="#footnoteb">[B]</a> The bluejackets’ name for knitted woollen gifts from friends on the +beach. +</div> + +<p>“But the queerest thing was me hearing some +guy lying all messed up on the deck muttering +something about <i>skookum kluches</i>, and some more +Chinook <i>wa-wa</i> that I knew he couldn’t have picked +up anywhere else but from serving in a ‘T.B.D.’ +working up and down the old Inland Passage from +Vancouver Island. I felt my way to where he was +huddled up in the wreck of a smashed gun, told him +that I was another <i>tilicum</i> from the ’Squimalt +Base, and asked him what ship he had been there +in. I knew there was a good chance that we’d been +mates in the old <i>Virago</i>, and there even seemed a +familiar sound to his voice. But I wasn’t fated +ever to find out. He just kept on muttering, slipping +up on some words as if something was wrong +with his mouth, and I didn’t dare light a match, of +course. When I tried to ease him up a bit by lifting +so he’d lie straight—well, all of him didn’t +seem to come along when I started dragging by his +shoulders. I never did find what was wrong +with him, for right then new troubles of my own +set in.</p> + +<p>“I was still down on my knees trying to locate +what was missing with this poor guy, when—out of +the corner of my eye, for it was near behind me—I +spotted the flash of a ship challenging. <i>Bow</i> challenged +back—from somewhere aft—and then what<!-- Page 21 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +I piped at once for a Hun destroyer switched on +searchlights and opened fire. She was about two +cables off on our port quarter, heading right for us +and blazing away with one or two guns, probably +all that would bear on that course. A second destroyer, +right astern her, didn’t seem to be firing. I +heard the bang and saw the flash of two or three +shells bursting somewhere amidships, and then the +<i>Bow’s</i> port after gun began to reply. The crews +of all the others were knocked out, and so were +the searchlights.</p> + +<p>“Between the twenty-three from the <i>Seagull</i> and +what were left of the <i>Bow’s</i> fo’c’sl’ guns’ crews, +there must have been thirty-five to forty men +bunched together there for’rard of the wreck of the +bridge. When the firing started, the whole kaboodle +of us did what you’re always under orders to +do when you have nothing to stand up for—laid +down. Or, rather, we just tumbled into a heap like +a pile of dead rabbits.</p> + +<p>“I went sprawling over the poor devil I was trying +to help, and there were two or three on top of +me. Into that squirming hump of human flesh one +of the Hun’s projes landed kerplump. It didn’t +hit me at all, that one, but I can feel yet the kind +of heave the whole bunch gave as it ploughed +through. Then it was like warm water was being +thrown on the pile in buckets, but it wasn’t till I +had scrambled out and found it sticky that I +twigged it was blood.<!-- Page 22 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Bad as it was, it might have been a lot worse. +There hadn’t been enough resistance to explode the +proj, and so it killed only four or five and wounded, +maybe, twice that, where it would have scoured +every man jack of us into the sea and Kingdom +Come if it had gone off. The next one found something +in the wreck of the bridge hard enough to +crack it off though, and it was a ragged scrap of +its casing that drove in to the point of my hip and +put a kink in my rolling gait that I’ve never quite +shaken out yet. It wasn’t much of a hurt to what +it gave some, though, ’specially a lad that caught +the main kick of it and got ditched to starboard, +some of him going under the wire rail, and some +over.</p> + +<p>“The Huns couldn’t have known how down and +out the <i>Bow</i> really was, for there was nothing in +the world but that one port gun to prevent their +closing and polishing her off. The chances are they +recognised her class, knew she was more than a +match for the pair of them if she was right, and +were glad to get off with no more’n an exchange of +shots in passing. That was the end of the fighting +for the <i>Bow</i>, and about time, too. Her bows were +stove in, all the fore part of her was full of water, +her bridge was smashed and useless, her W.T. and +searchlights were finished, all but one gun was out +of action, and—when they came to count noses +next day—forty-two of her crew were dead. Far +from looking for more trouble, it was now only a<!-- Page 23 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +question of making harbour, and even that—as it +turned out—was touch-and-go for two days.</p> + +<p>“It was about one in the morning when that +brush with the destroyers came off, and after that +there was nothing to do but hang on till daylight +and they could clear a way to reach us from abaft +the wreckage of the bridge. It was pretty awful, +ticking off the minutes there in the darkness. A +good many of the worst knocked about were talking +a bit wild, but I never heard the guy with the +Chinook <i>wa-wa</i> again. He must have died and been +pitched over while I was being bandaged up. I <i>did</i> +hear the ‘wool-mat-maker’ yapping again, though, +saying how ‘target cloth’ was better to work on +than canvas, and describing how to pull the stuff +through in a loose loop, and then cut them so that +they bunched up in ‘soft, puffy balls.’ Seems like +I was cussing him when I dropped off to sleep.</p> + +<p>“I must have bled a good deal, for I slept like a +log for four or five hours, and woke up only when +some one turned me over and began to finger my +hip. It was broad daylight, but hazy, and the sun +just showing through. Some of the wounded had +already been carried aft, and they were mostly dead +ones that were lying around. These were being +sewed up in canvas to get ready to bury. I +thought there was something familiar in the face +of one guy I saw them laying out and sort of collecting +together, but it wasn’t till later that it +suddenly came to me that he was the one I had seen<!-- Page 24 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +by firelight when he stood up and looked at himself +where he’d been shot in two.</p> + +<p>“The two guys who bundled me up in a ‘Neil +Robertson’ stretcher and packed me aft, picking +their way over and through the wreckage, were +both all bound up with rags, and so was about +every one else I saw. They took me below into the +wardroom, and then, because that was full up, on +to some officer’s cabin, where they found a place +for me on the deck. After a while, a little dark guy—he +was also a good deal bandaged, and so +splashed with blood that I didn’t notice at the +time he was a sick bay steward—came in, washed +my wound out with some dope that smarted like +the devil, and tied it up. He worked like a streak +of greased lightning, and then went on to some one +else. That chap was Pridmore, and, let me tell you, +he was the real ‘top-liner’ of all the heroes of the +<i>Bow</i>. The surgeon had been killed at the first +salvo the night before, leaving no one but him to +carry on through all the hell that followed. And +some way—God knows how—he did it; yes, even +though he was wounded three or four times himself, +and though he had to go without sleep for +more’n two days to find time to dress and tend the +thirty or forty crocks he had on his hands. He was +sure the star turn, that Pridmore, and I was glad +to read the other day that they had given him the +D.S.M. Not that he’d have all he deserved if they +hung medals all over him; but—well, a guy likes<!-- Page 25 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +to have something to show that what he’s done +hasn’t been lost in the shuffle entirely.”</p> + +<p>I made an entry of “Pridmore, sick bay steward, +<i>Bow</i>,” in my notebook for future reference, and as +I was returning it to my pocket a sudden list to +starboard, accompanied by a throbbing grind of +the helm, heralded a sharp alteration of course. +Round she went through ten or twelve points, +finally to steady and stand away on a course that +seemed to lead toward the dip in the skyline between +the jagged range of mountains back of +Monastir and the point where a lowering bank of +cirro-cumuli hid the ancient abode of the gods on +the snow-capped summit of Olympus. On Number +Two assuring me that his yarn was spun, that there +was nothing more to it save an attempt he had +made, in spite of his wound, to get into a fight +that started when some of the wounded were hissed +by a gang of dockyard “mateys”—I clambered +back to the bridge to learn the significance of the +new move. I still wanted to hear Gains’ story of +the <i>Killarney</i>, but I had already sized him up +sufficiently to know that he was not the type of man +who would unbosom himself before his mates. +With him, I knew, I should have to watch my +chances, and endeavour to have a yarn alone. +Number Two’s parting injunction was to “try and +have a go at Jock Campbell, ‘the human proj.’ +Jock’s the guy at the after gun that looks like he +was rigged out for deep-sea diving,” he said.<!-- Page 26 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +“Most likely he’ll only growl at you at first, but if +he won’t warm up any other way, try him with a +yarn about a skirt. He’s ‘verra fond o’ a braw +lass,’ is Jock Campbell.”</p> + +<p>Our alteration of course, the captain told me, +was the consequence of an order received by wireless +directing him to cross over and hunt down a +strip along the western shore of the gulf which was +not being covered by the present formation of the +division. “I’ve had a signal stating that they’re +on the track of one U-boat, and there may be something +to make them think another has slipped +further along and is lying in ambush for the convoy +about off Volo. They’re evidently keeping the +rest of the division heading in to meet the convoy +itself.”</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The <i>Spark</i> stood on to the north-west until the +Vardar marshes showed as an olive-green rim +around the bend of the gulf, before turning southward +again to skirt the steep shingle-strewn beach +along the alluvial “fans” spreading down to the +sea from the base of Olympus. The wild-looking +Thessalian shepherds were just driving their motley +flocks down to the open foreshore to freshen up +in the rising midday sea breeze, and it was when I +assured Jock Campbell (where I found him leaning +on the breech of the after gun and staring landwards +with his bushy brows puckered in the incredulous +scowl of a man who can’t credit the evidence<!-- Page 27 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +of his own eyes) that it was an actual fact that the +fuzzy black sheep were wading in and drinking—if +sparingly—of the salt water, that a basis of conversation +was finally established. Up to that +moment he had given no sign that any of my carelessly +thrown out tentatives had penetrated to his +ears through the “telepad” rig-out which established +his connection with the gunnery control. +But when, bringing my lips close to his nearest +“ear-muff,” I shouted that I had come up along +that coast from Lharissa but a few weeks previously +by motor and pack-train, and that, in lieu +of any fresh water for many miles in either direction, +I had actually seen the sheep and goats +drinking in flocks from the sea, the look of hostile +suspicion in his eyes was replaced by one of friendly +interest.</p> + +<p>“Weel, weel, y’u dinna say so?” he ejaculated, +easing away the edge of the helmet over one ear; +“the puir wee beasties!” Then he volunteered +that he had once kept from freezing to death in a +snowstorm on Ben Nevis by curling up among his +sheep, and I told how I had once sheared sheep +(not mentioning it was for only half a day, and +that my “clip” was composed of about equal parts +mutton and wool) on a back blocks station in +Queensland. Then he described how he had seen a +big merino ram butt a Ford car off the road up +Thurso way, and I—with more finesse than +veracity—capped that with a yarn of how I had<!-- Page 28 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +seen a flock of Macedonian sheep blown up by a +Bulgarian air-bomb, and how one of them had +landed unhurt upon a passing motor lorry load of +forage—and gone right on grazing! I reckoned +that might be calculated to remind Jock of something +of the same character which had befallen him +on a certain memorable occasion, and I was not +disappointed.</p> + +<p>“‘Twas verra like wha’ cam ma way on the nicht +the <i>Bow</i> rammed the <i>Seagull</i> at the fecht aff Jutland,” +he commented instantly, with no trace of +suspicion in his voice. “Wad ye care to hear +aboot it? Ye wud? Weel, then——.” As brief, +as direct and to the point was the plain unvarnished +tale Jock Campbell told me the while a +noon-day storm awoke reverberant echoes of the +Jovian thunders in the snow-caverns of Olympus +and the <i>Spark</i> hunted down through the jade green +waters of the Thessalian coast for a U-boat that +was supposed to be lurking in their lucent depths +“somewhere off Volo.”</p> + +<p>“Ah was at ma action station at the port foremost +gun,” he began, wiping his perspiring brow +with a wad of greasy waste, which left an undulant +trail of oil from the recoil cylinder in its wake, +“when we gaed bang into a line o’ big Hun +cru’sers, and we lat blaze at them and them at us. +The range was short, and wi’ their serchlichts +lichten us up oor position wasna that Ah wad ca’ +verra pleasant. Up gaed a Hun cru’ser in a spoort<!-- Page 29 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +o’ flame and reek, hit, Ah thocht, by a mouldie +launched by oor next astern. Ah was fair jumpin’ +wi’ joy at the sicht, when a hale salvo o’ screechin’ +projes cam bang inta the fo’c’sl. Ah minded the +licht o’ them mair than the soun’, which was na +great.</p> + +<p>“The Huns had switched aff their serchlichts +when they opened fire, so that noo the projes was +bursting in inky mirk. I doubtna oor midships and +after guns was firing, but na the foremost, for Ah +dinna mind being blinded by their licht afore the +Hun projes gan bursting. My ain gun wudna bear +on the Huns, so Ah was just standing by for the +time, ready to train if we turned.</p> + +<p>“Twa salvos cam—maybe frae twa different +cru’sers—ane after the ither, wi’ aboot half a +meenit atween. Ye ken that the licht o’ a shell-burst +is ower afore ye can even think, and a’ the +furst ane showed me was just the gun crews, +standin’, and bracin’ themsel’s like when a big sea +braks inboard. It was ower like a flash o’ lichtnin, +and the licht had gone oot afore Ah saw anybody +blown up or knocked oot. But Ah felt a michty +blast o’ air and an awfu’ shaikin o’ the deck, and +then the bang o’ lumps o’ projes dingin’ ’gainst the +bridge and smackin’ through bodies.</p> + +<p>“The flash o’ the burst o’ the second salvo tellt +me what havoc the first had wrocht, but by noo ma +een was licht-blind and Ah cudna see weel. The +sta’bo’d gun was twisht oot o’ shape, and a’ the<!-- Page 30 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +crew but ane were strechit on the deck. To a’ +appearance that lad had been laid oot wi’ the ithers, +but noo he was puin himsel’ to his feet and crawlin’ +up the wreck o’ the gun when a proj frae the second +salvo burst richt alow him. By the flash Ah saw +him flyin’ inta the air, and—by the licht o’ anither +flash a bittie efter—then his corp, wi’ twa or three +ithers, gang ower the side. A lump o’ that last +proj carried awa’ the Number Wan o’ ma ain gun, +and, onlike some o’ the ithers, not a bit o’ him was +left ahint. Ah mesel’ was knockit flat, but wasna +much the worse for a’ that.</p> + +<p>“That was the hinmost Ah saw o’ the Huns for +that nicht, and the last I mind o’ the <i>Bow</i> was the +dead and deein’ wha covert the fo’c’sl’, wi’ the licht +o’ the fires burnin’ aft flickerin’ ower them. Then +cam’ a cry frae the bridge that a ’stroyer was closin’ +us to port, and then Ah mind hearin’ the captain +shoutin’ an order ower and ower, like he wasna +bein’ answered frae the ither end o’ the voice-pipe. +‘Hard-a-port!’ he roared, but weel micht he shout +for ay, for the qua’termaster, wi’ a’ on the signal +bridge, was dead by noo, and the helm was left +jammed hard-a-sta’bo’d.</p> + +<p>“Then Ah felt her shudder as the engines went +full speed astern, and Ah got to ma feet in time to +see she was headin’ straicht for the fo’c’sl’ o’ a +T.B.D. that was steerin’ cross her bows. And +richt after that she must ha’ struck wi’ a michty +crash. The next thing Ah mindit—weel, Ah didna<!-- Page 31 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +mind much save that I was lyin’ on ma back in a +sort o’ narrow way atween twa high wa’s, wi’ a +turrible pain in ma back and mony sea-boots +trampin’ ower ma face. The bashin’ o’ the boots +didna hurt me, for Ah was kind o’ dazed; but Ah +seem to mind turnin’ ma face to the wa’, just like +ye do whan the flees are botherin’ ye in the +mornin’.</p> + +<p>“What brocht me roun’, I’m thinkin’, was the +shock that Ah got whan that wa’ ’gan to shak’ up +and doon, and then slid richt awa’, leavin’ me +hingin’ ower the brink o’ a black hole, wi’ water +souchin’ aboot the bottom o’t. ’Twas like wakin’ +oot o’ a bad dream and findin’ that the warst o’ it +was true.</p> + +<p>“Ah was too groggy to ken richt awa’ that the +<i>Bow</i> had rammed anither ship and that Ah had +been pitched oot o’ her into the wan she’d hit. +Quite natteral, Ah thocht masel’ still in the <i>Bow</i>, +seem’ that Ah cud be nae mair use on the fo’c’sl’, +which was a’ smashed and rippit up and drappin’ +to bits, Ah thocht that Ah ought to run aft to see +if Ah could gie a haun.</p> + +<p>“But when Ah tried to get up, Ah fund the bane +o’ ma spine was so sair that Ah cudna stand +straicht, and a’ Ah cud do was to craw’ and stagger +alang. Every mon Ah knockit agin, and every bit +of wreck Ah felt ower, sent me sprawlin’. Whan I +fund that there was no so mony funnels as Ah +minded afore, and whan Ah cudna find the W.T.<!-- Page 32 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +hoose, Ah thocht that they had been shot awa’. +Findin’ a crew at stations by a midships gun, Ah +speired if they was short o’ hauns. They said they +werna, so Ah gaed alang aft, lookin’ for a chance +to be useful.</p> + +<p>“Ah was thinkin’ to masel’, ‘she’s awfu’ little +shot up’ (for ye ken Ah had expectit her to be a’ to +bits frae the way Ah’d heard the projes burstin’ +ahint the bridge), whan a syren gae a michty +shriek a’ most at ma lug, and Ah turned to see +anither T.B.D., spootin’ fire frae her funnels and +throwin’ a double bow wave higher’n her fo’c’sl’, +headin’ richt inta us. Ah cud see that her helm +was hard-a-port by the way her wake was boilin’, +but it was nae guid. She turned enough to keep +frae rammin’ us midships, but she cudna miss oor +stern.</p> + +<p>“Ah had just been tellt by ane o’ the after gun’s +crew to get oot o’ the wa’ (they not bein’ short o’ +hauns), whan this new craft hove inta sicht. At +first it lookit like she wad cut thro’ for’ard o’ me, +leavin’ me ahint to drown in the wreck o’ the +stern. Then Ah thocht she was comin’ richt at me, +and Ah started crawlin’ back to whaur Ah had +come frae. But she keepit turnin’ and turnin’, so +that she hit at last richt abaft the after gun. Ah +fell a’ in a heap at the shock, and, tho’ Ah was a +guid ten feet frae whaur her stem cut in, the bulge +o’ her crunched into the quarterdeck till she +passed sae close that suthin’ stickin’ oot frae her<!-- Page 33 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +side—it micht hae been the lip o’ a mouldie-tube, +Ah’m thinkin’—gae ma puir back a sair dig, and +there Ah was amang the mess left o’ the gun and +its crew. Ah was near to bein’ dragged owerboard +after that T.B.D., and when she was gone Ah fund +masel’—for the second time in ane night—hangin’ +ower the raggit edge o’ a black hole listenin’ to the +swish o’ ragin’ waters.</p> + +<p>“And then, gin that and ma half-broken back +werna enough for ony mon, Ah hear some ane +shoutit that they thocht that last rammin’ had done +in the auld <i>Seagull</i>, and that the time wad soon +come to ’bandon ship.</p> + +<p>“‘<i>Seagull!</i>’ says Ah; ‘dinna ye ken this ship is +the <i>Bow</i>?’ Ah kind o’ went groggy after that, and +Ah have a sort o’ dim remembrance that some ane +flashit an ’lectric torch in ma face and said that Ah +must have been pitchit ower whan the <i>Bow</i> rammed +the <i>Seagull</i>, and that Ah prob’ly hadna shaken doon +to ma new surroundin’s. Ah tried hard to speir +what kind o’ a shakin’ doon they meant gin this +hadna been ane. But Ah didna seem to have the +power to mak’ ma words come straicht, and they +said, ‘He’s gane a bit off his chuck,’ and ca’d some +ane to carry me below.</p> + +<p>“The pains runnin’ up and doon ma spine when +Ah was lowered doon the ladder were ower much +for me, and Ah passed off for a bit. Whan Ah cam +roun’ Ah was bein’ shoved along the ward-room +table—whaur Ah had been lyin’—to mak’ room for<!-- Page 34 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +a lad wi’ bandages roun’ his head and a’ drippin’ +wi’ salt water. His ship had gone doon twa hours +syne, and maist o’ the time he had been in the +water or roostin’ on a Carley Float. That lad’s +name was Gains, noo the gun-layer o’ the fo’most +gun o’ the <i>Spark</i>—him Ah saw ye talkin’ wi’ just +noo. He was strong and cheery himsel’, but fower +o’ his mates were chilled to the bane, and Ah wacht +’em shiver to death richt afore ma een.</p> + +<p>“It was aboot daylicht when we pickit up a’ +that was left o’ the crew o’ the <i>Killarney</i>, and aboot +an hour efter we fell in wi’ the <i>Sportsman</i>, wha +passed us a hawser and tried to tow, stern-first, +what was left o’ the <i>Seagull</i>. Ah didna see what +was wrang, but they tellt me that the wreck o’ +the stern and the helm bein’ jammed hard +a-sta’bo’d made sae much drag that the cable partit. +Then there was naithing else to do—sin’ the <i>Seagull</i> +cudna steam—but to sink her wi’ gun-fire. The +captain askit permission for this by W.T., and +when it came they ditched the books and signals, +transferred abody to the <i>Sportsman</i>, and then gae +her a roun’ or twa at the water-line wi’ the <i>Sportsman’s</i> +guns. Doon she gaed, and that,” he concluded +with a grin, “is the true yarn o’ the sinkin’ +o’ the <i>Seagull</i>. If only o’ ma mates try to mak’ ye +b’lieve that she foundert ’count o’ bein’ hit and +holed by a ‘human proj’ kent as Jock Campbell, +I’m hopin’ ye’ll no listen to ’em.”</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><!-- Page 35 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>“FIREBRAND”</h3> + +<p>It was a little incident which occurred one night +when the Grand Fleet was returning to Base +from one of its periodical sweeps through the +North Sea that set Able-seaman Melton talking +of the things he had seen and felt and heard the +time he was standing anti-submarine watch in the +<i>Firebrand</i>, when her flotilla of destroyers mixed +itself up with a squadron of German cruisers in the +course of the “dog-fight” which concluded the battle +of Jutland.</p> + +<p>I had found him, muffled to the eyes and dancing +a jangling jig on a sleet-slippery steel plate to keep +warm, when I picked my precarious way along the +coco-matted deck and climbed up to the after +searchlight platform of the Flotilla Leader I +chanced to be in at the time. A fairly decent day +was turning into a dirty night, and the steadily +thickening mistiness which accompanied a sodden +rain in process of transformation into soft snow +had reduced the visibility to a point where the +Commander-in-Chief deemed it safer for the Fleet +to put back to open sea and take no further chances<!-- Page 36 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +among the treacherous currents and rocky islands +that beset the approaches to the Northern Base.</p> + +<p>The Flagship, which had received the order by +wireless, flashed “Destroyers prepare to take station +for screening when Fleet alters to easterly +course at nine o’clock,” and shortly before that +hour the Flotilla Leader made the signal to execute. +Almost immediately I felt the hull of the <i>Flyer</i> +take on an accelerated throb as her speed was increased, +and a moment later the wake began to boil +higher as the helm was put hard-a-starboard to +bring her round. We were steaming a cable’s length +on the starboard bow of the <i>Olympus</i>, the leading +ship of the squadron at the time, and the carrying +out of the manœuvre involved the <i>Flyer’s</i> leading +her division across the head of the battleship line +and down the other side on an opposite course, so +that the destroyers would be in a position to resume +night-screening formation when the fleet had finished +turning.</p> + +<p>Just how the captain of the <i>Flyer</i> happened to +cut his course so fine I never learned, but the +patchiness of the drifting mist must have had a +good deal to do with making him misjudge his distance. +At any rate, just as we had turned through +nine or ten points, I suddenly saw the ominously +bulking bows of the <i>Olympus</i> come juggernauting +out of the night, with the amorphous loom of the +bridge and foretop towering monstrously above. +The <i>Flyer</i> seemed fairly to jump out of the water<!-- Page 37 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +at the kick her propellers gave her as the turbines +responded to the bridge’s call for “More steam,” +and a spinning puff of smoke darkened the glow +above the funnels for a moment as fresh oil was +sprayed upon the fires beneath the boilers.</p> + +<p>It was a good deal like a cat scurrying in front +of a speeding motor-car, and the consequences +would have been more or less similar had not one of +the <i>Olympus’s</i> swarming lookouts, peering into the +darkness from his screened nest, gathered hint of +the disaster that menaced in time to warn the forebridge. +The great super-dreadnought responded +to her helm very smartly considering her tonnage, +and she turned just far enough to starboard to +avoid grinding us under. I could almost look up +through the port hawse-pipe as the flare of her +bow loomed above my head, and the man standing +by the depth-charges on the all-but-grazed stern of +the <i>Flyer</i> might well have been pardoned even if +the story his mates afterwards told of his action +on this occasion were true—that he had tried to +fend off one of the largest battleships afloat with +a boat-hook.</p> + +<p>A silhouette against the barely perceptible glow +at the back of the forebridge of a “brass-hatted” +officer shaking his fist as though in the act of ramping +and roaring like a true British sailor moved by +righteous anger; a forty or fifty degree heel to +starboard as the curling bow-wave of the <i>Olympus</i> +thwacked resoundingly along her port side, and<!-- Page 38 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +the <i>Flyer</i> drove on into the sleet-shot darkness to +blow off accumulated steam in rolling clouds, allow +her fluttering pulse to become normal, and resume +the even tenor of her way.</p> + +<p>Melton, A.B., whistling over and over the opening +bars of the chorus of “Do You Want Us to +Lose the War?” started his metallically clanking +jig again, but presently, like a man with something +on his mind, sidled over and shoved his Balaklava-bordered +face against the outside of the closely-reefed +hood of my “lammy” coat, and muttered +thickly something about being afraid he had got +himself into trouble. When I had pulled loose a +snap and improved communications by unmuffling +a lee ear, I learned that it had just occurred to the +good chap that he failed to report to the bridge +the battleship he had sighted “fifty yards to the +port beam,” and he was wondering whether there +would be a “strafe” coming from the skipper +about it.</p> + +<p>“Fact is, sir,” he said, speaking brokenly as the +galloping gusts every now and then forced a word +back into his mouth, “that that rip-rarin’ stem, +with the white foam flyin’ off both sides of it, bearing +down right for where I was standin’—all that +was so like what I saw the night of Jutland in the +<i>Firebrand</i> that—that the turn it give me took my +mind right back and—and I wasn’t thinkin’ o’ +anything else till the <i>’Lympus</i> was gone by.”</p> + +<p>I assured him that, since the <i>Olympus</i> had doubtless<!-- Page 39 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +been sighted from the bridge several winks +before she had been visible from his less-favourable +vantage, they would probably have been too busy +to respond to his call at the voice-pipe even had he +tried to report what he saw.</p> + +<p>“If I were you,” I said, “I would forget all +about that, and try to explain how a cruiser that +the <i>Firebrand</i> was about to ram bow-to-bow” (I +had, of course, already heard something of that +dare-devilish exploit) “could have looked to you +like the <i>Olympus</i> ramping down on a right-angling +course and threatening to slice off the <i>Flyer’s</i> stern +with all her depth-charges. I quite understood that +one ramming is a good deal like another, as far as +a big ship hitting a destroyer fair and square is +concerned, but——”</p> + +<p>“’Twasn’t that <i>first</i> cru’ser ’tall, sir,” Melton interrupted, +nuzzling into my “lammy” hood again +to make himself heard. “Twas ’nother ’un, sir—a +wallopin’ big un. The seas was stiff wi’ cru’sers fer +a minit, sir, an’ no sooner was we clear o’ the first +un than the second come tearin’ down on us, tryin’ +to cut us in two amidships. An’ that last un was a +battl’ cru’ser nigh as big as the <i>’Lympus</i>, all shot +up in the funnels and runnin’ wild an’ bloody-minded +like a mad bull. We were pretty nigh to +bein’ stopped dead, an’ if she hadn’t been slower’n +cold grease wi’ her helm she’d ha’ eat us right up.”</p> + +<p>There had been nothing of malice aforethought +in my action in cornering Melton on the searchlight<!-- Page 40 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +platform that night, for, as it chanced, I had +failed to learn up to that moment that he had been +in the famous <i>Firebrand</i> at Jutland. Nor, with the +wind and sea getting up as fast as the glass and +the thermometer were going down, was the time or +the place quite what a man would have chosen for +anything in the way of cosy fireside reminiscence. +But, both these facts notwithstanding, I felt that, +since I was leaving the <i>Flyer</i> to go to another base +directly she arrived in harbour on the morrow, it +would be criminal to neglect the opportunity of +hearing what was perhaps the most sportingly +spectacular of all the Jutland destroyer actions +related by one who was actually in it. I did not +dare to distract Melton’s attention from his lookout +by drawing him into talking while he was still +on watch, but, when he was relieved at ten o’clock, +I waylaid him at the foot of the ladder with a pot +of steaming hot ship’s cocoa (foraged from the +galley by a sympathetic ward-room steward) and +both pockets of my “lammy” coat filled with the +remnants of a box of assorted Yankee “candy” +looted from the American submarine in which I +had been on patrol the week before.</p> + +<p>Melton rose to the lure instantly—or perhaps +I should say “fell to the bribe”—for the British +bluejacket, if only he were given a chance to develop, +is quite as sweet of tooth as his brother +Yank. Because I could hardly take him to the +captain’s cabin, which I was occupying for the<!-- Page 41 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +moment, for a yarn, and because he, likewise, +could not take me down to the mess deck to disturb +the off-watch sleepers with our chatter, there was +nothing to do but carry on as best we could in the +friendly lee of one of the funnels.</p> + +<p>It was a night of infernal inkiness by now, and +only clinging patches of soft snow and their +blanker blankness revealed the dimly guessable +lines of whaler and cowls and torpedo tubes and the +loom of the loftier bridge. The battleship line was +masked completely by the double curtain of the +darkness and the snow, and only a tremulous greyness, +barely discernible in the intervals of the +flurries of flakes where the starboard bow-wave +curled back from the <i>Olympus</i>, gave an intermittent +bearing to help in keeping station. Underfoot +was the blackness of the pit, not the faintest gleam +reflecting from the waves washing over the weather +side to swirl half-knee high about our sea boots. +Even overhead all that was visible were fluttering +patches of snow flakes dancing through the haloes of +pale rose radiance that crowned the tops of the funnels. +The wail of the wind in the wireless aerials, +the crash of the surging beam seas, the throb of the +propellers, and the pussy-cat purr of the spinning +turbines—these were the fit accompaniment to +which Melton A.B. recited to me the epic of the +<i>Firebrand</i> at Jutland.</p> + +<p>The cocoa I quaffed mug for mug with Melton, +down to the last of the sweet, sustaining “settlings”<!-- Page 42 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +in the bottom of the pot; but the candy I +kept in reserve to draw on from time to time as it +was needed to lubricate his tongue and stoke the +smouldering fires of his memory. I started him off +with a red-and-white “barber’s pole” stick, which +took not a little fumbling with mittened hands to +extract from its greased tissue paper wrapper, and +the seductive fragrance of crunched peppermint +mingled with the acrid fumes of burning petroleum +as he leaned close and began to tell how the ——th +Flotilla, to which the <i>Firebrand</i> belonged, screening +the ——th B.S. of the Battle Fleet, came upon +the scene toward the end of the long summer afternoon. +He had witnessed Beatty’s consummate +manœuvre of “crossing the T” of the enemy line +with the four that remained of his battered First +Battle Cruiser Squadron, and he had seen the main +Battle Fleet baulked of its action the lowering +mists and the closing in of darkness; but it was not +until full night had clapped down its lid that the +fun for the <i>Firebrand</i> really began.</p> + +<p>“It was just ’twixt daylight an’ dark,” he said, +reaching me a steadying hand in the darkness as +the <i>Flyer</i> teetered giddily down the back of a receding +sea, “that the flotilla dropped back to take +stashun ’stern the battl’ships we was screenin’. The +<i>Killarney</i> was leadin’ an’ after her came the <i>Firebran’</i>, +<i>Seagull</i>, <i>Wreath</i>, an’ <i>Consort</i>, makin’ up the +First Divishun. <i>Wreath</i> an’ <i>Consort</i> sighted some +Hun U-boats and ’stroyers while this move was on,<!-- Page 43 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +an’ plunk’d off a few shots at ’em. Don’t think wi’ +any fatal consequence. Then there come the rattle +of light gun fire from the south’ard, like from +cru’sers or battleships repellin’ T.B.D.’s. Then it +was all serene for mor’n an ’our, an’ then all hell +opens up.”</p> + +<p>I suspected, from the sounds he made, that Melton +had bitten into a block of milk chocolate +without removing its wrapping of foil and paper, +but presently his enunciation grew less explosive +and more intelligible.</p> + +<p>“It was Hun cru’sers drivin’ down on us from +the starboard quarter that started the monkey-show,” +he said, “an’ that bein’ the nor’west it was +hardly where we’d reason to expect ’em from. It +looks like we had ’em clean cut off, wi’ the ’hole +Battl’ Fleet steamin’ ’tween ’em an’ their way back +home, an’ that they was tryin’ to sneak through in +the darkness. The <i>Wreath</i>, at the end o’ the line +nearest ’em, spotted ’em first, and she, ’cause she +didn’t want to give herself ’way wi’ flashin’, reported +what she’d seen by low-power W.T. to the +rest o’ the flotilla. Course I—standin’ watch aft—didn’t +know nothin’ ’bout that signal, so that the +first I hears o’ the Huns was when they all opened +up on the poor ol’ <i>Killarney</i>, ’cause she was the +leader. I s’pose, and she started firin’ back at +their flashes.</p> + +<p>“The leadin’ Hun flashed his searchlight on the +<i>Killarney</i> as he opened up, but shut off sharp when<!-- Page 44 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +<i>Killarney</i> came back at him. I could see some o’ +the projes flittin’ right down the light beam until +it blinked off, an’ it was a flock of two or three of +these that I kept my eye on all the way till they +bashed into the <i>Killarney’s</i> bridge and busted. +She was zigzaggin’ a coupl’ o’ points on <i>Firebrand’s</i> +starboard bow just then, so my standin’ aft didn’t +prevent my gettin’ a good look at what was happenin’. +I could see the bodies o’ four or five men +flyin’ up wi’ the wreckage o’ the explosion, an’ then, +all in a minnit, she was rollin’ in flames from the +funnels right for’ard. By the light o’ it I could see +the crews o’ the ’midships and after guns workin’ +’em like devils, an’ twice anyhow, an’ I think three +times, I saw a bright, shiny slug slip over the side, +an’ knew they were loosin’ mouldies to try to get +their own back from the Hun.</p> + +<p>“The sea was boilin’ up red as blood where the +light from the burnin’ <i>Killarney</i> fell on the spouts +the Huns’ projes was throwin’ up all round her. +She was the fairest mark ever a gun trained on, +and p’raps that was what tempted the Hun to keep +pumpin’ projes at her instead o’ givin’ more attenshun +to the rest of the divishun trailin’ astern. +That was what gave <i>Firebran’</i> her first chance o’ +alterin’ the Hun navy list that night.</p> + +<p>“The second cru’ser in the Hun line was bearin’ +right abeam to starboard by now, an’ I could see by +her gun-flashes she was of good size, wi’ four long +funnels fillin’ up all the deck ’tween her two masts.<!-- Page 45 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +She was firing fast in salvoes wi’ all the guns that +would bear on the burnin’ <i>Killarney</i>. I could just +make out by the light from the <i>Killarney</i>, which +was growin’ stronger every minnit, that the crew of +our after torpedo tube was gettin’ busy, an’ while I +was watchin’ ’em, over flops the mouldie and starts +to run. I knew it was aimed for one or t’other o’ +the two leadin’ Huns, but wasn’t dead sure which +till I saw the after funnels an’ mainmast o’ the +second toppl’ over an’ a big flash o’ fire take their +place. Then it looked like there was exploshuns +right off fore an’ aft, and then fires broke out all +over her from stem to stern. Next thing I knows, +she takes a big list to starboard, an’ over she goes, +wi’ more exploshuns throwin’ up spouts o’ steam, as +she rolls under. The second mouldie—it got away +right after the first—was never needed to finish +the job. The <i>Firebran’</i> had evened up the score for +the <i>Killarney</i>, wi’ a good margin over.</p> + +<p>“The captain turned away to reload mouldies +after that, an’ just as we swung out o’ line I saw a +salvo straddle the <i>Killarney</i>, and two or three +shells hit square ’tween her funnels an’ after +sup’rstruct’r’. They must have gone off in her engine +room, for there was more steam than fire risin’ +from her as we turned an’ left her astern, an’ she +looked stopped dead. A Hun cru’ser was closin’ +the blazin’ wreck o’ her, firm’ hard; but, by Gawd, +what d’you think I saw. The only patch on the +ol’ <i>Killarney</i> that was free o’ the ragin’ fires was<!-- Page 46 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +her stern, an’ from there the steady flashes of her +after gun showed it was bein’ worked as fast an’ +reg’lar as ever I seen it done at any night-firin’ +practice. I looked to see her blow up every minnit, +but she was still spittin’ wi’ that littl’ after gun +when the sudden flashin’ up of the fightin’ lights +for’ard turned my attenshun nearer home.</p> + +<p>“I could just make out a line of what looked like +’stroyers headin’ cross our bows, an’ thought we’d +stumbled into ’nother nest o’ Huns till they answered +back wi’ the signal o’ the day, an’ I knew +it was one of our own flotillas we’d been catchin’ +up to. That flashin’ up o’ lights come near to doin’ +for us tho’, for it showed us up to a big Hun +steamin’ three or four miles off on the port beam, +an’ he claps a searchlight on us an’ chases it up wi’ +a sheaf o’ shells. The only proj that hit us bounced +off wi’out doin’ much hurt to the ship, but some +flyin’ hunks o’ it smashed the mouldie davit and +knocked out most o’ the crews o’ the after tubes, +includin’ the T.G.M.<span class="fnanchor"> <a name="footnotec" id="footnotec"></a><a href="#footc">[C]</a></span> That put a stop to reloadin’ +operashuns wi’ a mouldie in only one o’ the tubes. +By good luck we managed to zigzag out o’ the +searchlight beam right after that, an’ was free to +turn back an’ try to start a divershun for the poor +ol’ <i>Killarney</i>.</p> +<div class="footnote"><a name="footc" id="footc"></a> +<a href="#footnotec">[C]</a> Torpedo Gunner’s Mate. +</div> + +<p>“Her fires looked to be dyin’ down when we first +picked her up, but right after that some more projes +bust on her an’ she started blazin’ harder than +<!-- Page 47 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +ever. I watched for the spittin’ o’ that littl’ after +gun, but when it come it looked to spurt right out +o’ the heart o’ a blazin’ furnace, showin’ the fire was +now burnin’ from stem to stern. One more salvo +plastered over her, an’ that one got no reply. The +good ol’ ‘<i>Killy</i>’ had shot her bolt, an’ her finish +looked a matter o’ minnits.</p> + +<p>“It was plain enough if anyone was still livin’ +they was goin’ to need pickin’ up in a hurry, an’ +the captain put the <i>Firebran’</i> at full speed to close +her an’ stan’ by to give a han’. Just then I saw a +Hun searchlight turned on and start feelin’ its +way up to where the <i>Killarney</i> was burning, wi’ +a cru’ser followin’ up the small end o’ the beam, +seemin’ to be nosin’ in to end the mis’ry. She did +not bear right for a mouldie, but we opened up wi’ +the foremost gun, an’ I saw the shells bustin’ on +her bridge and fo’c’sl’ like rotten apples chucked +’against a wall. The light blinked off as the first +proj hit home, but there was no way to tell if it +was shot away or no. It was the second time that +night that we’d done our bit to ease off the hell +turned loose on the <i>Killarney</i>. Likewise it was the +last. From then on we had our own partic’lar hell +to wriggle out of, wi’ no time left to play ‘Venging +Nemisus’ to our stricken sisters. Just a big bonfire +sittin’ on the sea an’ lickin’ a hole in the night +wi’ its flames—that was the last I saw of the ol’ +<i>Killarney</i>.”</p> + +<p>Melton paused for a moment as if engrossed in<!-- Page 48 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +the memories conjured up by his narrative, and I +took advantage of the interval to hand him one of +those most loved lollipops of Yankee youngster-hood, +a plump, hard ball of toothsome saccharinity +called—obviously from its resistant resiliency—an +“All-Day Sucker.” When he spoke again I knew +in an instant that a sure instinct had led him to +make the proper disposition of the succulent dainty—that +it was stowed snugly away in a bulging +cheek like a squirrel’s nut, to melt away in its own +good time.</p> + +<p>“’Tween the glare of the burnin’ <i>Killarney</i>,” Melton +went on after thrashing his hands across his +shoulders for a minute to warm them up, “the +gleam o’ the Hun cru’ser’s searchlight an’ the flash +o’ our own gun-fire, we must all have been more or +less blinded in the <i>Firebrand</i>, for we had run close +to what may have been a part of the main en’my +battl’ line wi’out nothin’ bein’ reported. Our firin’ +had give us away, o’ course, an’ the nearest ships +must have had their guns trained on us, waitin’ to +be sure what we was. One o’ ’em must have made +up his mind we was en’my even before we spotted +’em at all, for the first thing I saw was the white +o’ the bow wave an’ wake as she turned toward us, +prob’ly to ram. She’d have caught us just about +midships if the bridge hadn’t sighted her an’ done +the only thing open to do—turned to meet her +head on.</p> + +<p>“I don’t remember that either she or us switched<!-- Page 49 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +on recognition lights, but the Hun opened with +ev’rything that would bear just before we slammed +together. It must have been by the gun-flashes +that I saw she had three funnels, wi’ what +looked like some kind o’ marks painted on ’em in +red. I saw our second funnel give a jump and +crumple up as a proj hit it, an’ then a spurt o’ +flame—from a big gun fired almost point-blank—looked +to shoot right on to the bridge. I thought +that it must have killed ev’ry man there an’ carried +away all the steering gear. But no.</p> + +<p>“The old <i>Firebrand</i> wi’ helm hard-a-port, went +swingin’ right on thro’ the point or two more that +saved her life. I could feel by the way she jumped +an’ gathered herself that last second that the ol’ +girl was still under control. Then we struck wi’ +a horrible grind an’ crash, an’ I went sprawlin’ +flat.</p> + +<p>“If the Hun had hit us half a wink sooner, or if +we had turned half a point less, we’d have been +swallowed alive and split up in small hunks. As +it was, we didn’t have a lot the worst o’ it, an’ +p’raps we more than broke even. It was like a +mastiff an’ terrier runnin’ into each other in the +dark, an’ the terrier only gettin’ run over an’ the +mastiff gettin’ a piece bit clean out o’ his neck. It +was our port bows that come together, an’ for only +a sort o’ glancin’ blow. But it was the stem o’ the +<i>Firebran’</i> that was turned in sharpest, an’ it was<!-- Page 50 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +her that was hittin’ up—by a good ten knots—the +most speed. She was left in a terribl’ mess, but +most o’ the damage was from her rammin’ the Hun, +not from the Hun rammin’ her. While as for what +she did to the Hun, the best proof o’ it was the +more’n twenty feet of her side-platin’—an upper +strake, wi’ scuttl’ holes in it an’ pieces o’ gutterway +deck hangin’ to it—that we found in the wreck of +our fo’c’sl’. If the hole that hunk of steel left behind +it didn’t put that Hun out o’ bus’ness as a +fightin’ unit till she got back to port an’ had a +refit, I’ll eat it.”</p> + +<p>I wasn’t quite clear in my mind whether Melton +meant to imply that he would eat the hole in the +Hun cruiser or the hunk of steel that came out of it, +but there <i>was</i> no room for doubt that the violent +crunch with which he emphasised the assertion had +put a period to the life of his “All-Day Sucker,” +which was never intended to be treated like chewing +toffy. Dipping into the grab-bag of my “lammy” +coat pocket for something with which to replace it, +therefore, I brought up a stick of chewing gum, and +he resumed his story in an atmosphere sweet with +the ineffable odour of spearmint and escaping +steam.</p> + +<p>“How much the Hun was shook up by that +smash,” Melton continued, “you can reckon from +this: We was almost dead stopped for some +minnits, an’ all out o’ control from the time of +rammin’ till they started connin’ her from the<!-- Page 51 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +engine-room. There was one fire flickerin’ in the +wreckage o’ the forebridge, an’ another somewhere +’midships, while there was also a big glare throwin’ +up where the foremost funnel was shot away. We +was as soft an’ easy a target as even a Hun could +ask for; an’ yet that one was in too much of a funk +wi’ his own hurts to let off a singl’ other gun at us +in all the time that he must have been flounderin’ +on at not much more’n point-blank range. Mebbe +he was knocked up even more’n we thought. +Nothin’ else would account for him not havin’ +’nother go at us.</p> + +<p>“Just one wild bally mess—that was what the +<i>Firebran’</i> looked like when I got to my feet again +an’ cast an eye for’ard. There was too much +smoke an’ steam to see clear, an’ it was mostly +flickers o’ red light where the fires were startin’, +an’ big, black shadows full o’ wreckage. As it +looked to <i>me</i> from aft—tho’, o’ course, the full +effects wasn’t vis’bl’ till daylight, the bridge an’ +searchlight platform an’ mast was shoved right +back an’ piled up on the foremost funnel. The +whaler an’ dingy was carried away, an’ my first +thought, for I was sure she was sinkin’, was that +we had no boats to put off in. I could see two or +three wounded crawlin’ out o’ the raffle, but I knew +that the most to be dished would be in the wreck +o’ the bridge. The queerest thing o’ all was the +flashes o’ green an’ blue light flutterin’ thro’ the +tangled steel o’ the wreckage. At first I thought<!-- Page 52 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +I was sort o' seein' things; but fin'lly I figgered it +out as the juice from the busted 'lectric wires short-circuitin'. +It meant, I tol' myself, that the men +under them tons o' steel was bein' 'lectrocuted on +top o' bein' crushed.</p> + +<p>“It looked like any one o' three or four things +would be enough to finish the ol' <i>Firebran'</i>. I remember +thinkin' that if she didn't blow up, she was +sure to burn up; an' that if, by chance, she +missed doin' one o' them, she was goin' to founder +anyhow. She was already well down by the head, +an’—leastways, it looked so to me at the time—still +settlin’ fast. An’ I was just reflectin’ that, even if +she was lucky enough not to burn up, or blow up, +or founder, she was still too easy pickin’ for the +Huns to miss doin’ her in one way or ’nother, when, +thunderin’ out o’ the darkness an’ headin’ up to +crumpl’ underfoot what was left o’ the stopped an’ +helpless <i>Firebran’</i>, come a hulkin’ big battl’ cru’ser, +the one I was just tellin’ you the <i>’Lympus</i> set me +thinkin’ on a while back.</p> + +<p>“Starin’ at our own fires must have blinded me a +good bit, or I’d have seen him sooner’n I did. He +looked like he been gettin’ no end o’ a hammerin’, +for his second funnel was gone, an’ out of the hole +it left a big spurt o’ flame an’ smoke was rushin’ +that would have showed him up for miles. There +was a red hot fire ragin’ under his fo’c’sl’, too, an’ +I saw the flames lashin’ round thro’ some jagged +shell holes in his port bow. Lucky for us, he was<!-- Page 53 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +runnin’ for his life, an’ had no time to more than +try to run us down in passin’.</p> + +<p>“It must have been just from habit I yelled +down my voice-pipe, for I knew they was no longer +controllin’ her from the bridge; but the roarin’ o’ +a fire an’ the clank of bangin’ metal was the only +sounds that come back. When I looked up again +the Hun was right on top of us, an’ I must have +just stood there—froze—like to-night wi’ the +<i>’Lympus</i>. By the grace o’ Gawd, he hadn’t been +abl’ to alter course enough to do the trick. His +stem shot by wi’ twenty feet or more clearance, an’ +it was only the fat bulge of him that kissed us off +in passin’. It was by the glare o’ his fires, not ours, +which throwed no light abaft the superstructure +I was on, that I saw some of the hands was already +workin’ to rig a jury steerin’ gear aft. Then he was +gone, an’ much too full o’ his own troubles to turn +back, or even send the one heavy proj that would +have cooked us for good an’ all. A few minutes +more, an’ the wreck o’ the <i>Firebran’</i> begun gatherin’ +way again, an’ when I saw her come round to her +nor’westerly course an’ push ahead wi’out settlin’ +any deeper, I knew that the bulkheads were holdin’ +an’ that—always providin’ we run into no more +Huns—there was a fightin’ chance o’ pullin’ thro’.</p> + +<p>“There was about a hundred jobs that needed +doin’ all at once, an’ ’tween the loss o’ dead an’ +wounded—only about half the reg’lar ship’s company +was fit for work. The bulkheads had to be<!-- Page 54 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +shored, for, wi’ the fo’c’sl’ crumpled up like a concertina +an’ the deck an’ side platin’ ripped off from +the stem right back to the capstan engine, she was +open to the whole North Sea from the galley right +for’ard. This made the first an’ second bulkheads +o’ no use, an’ made the third bulkhead all that stood +’tween us an’ goin’ to the bottom. Then there was +the fires—’bove deck an’ ’tween decks—that had to +be put out ’fore they got to the magazines, an’ the +engines to be kept goin’, an’ the ship to be navigated, +an’ the wounded to be looked to. An’ on top +o’ all this, the ship had to be got into some kind o’ +fightin’ trim in case any more Huns come pokin’ +her way. I won’t be havin’ to tell you it was one +bally awful job, carryin’ on like that in the dark, +an’ wi’ half the ship’s company knocked out.</p> + +<p>“When I saw it was the first lieutenant that +seemed to be directin’ things, I took it the captain +was done for, an’ that was what everyone thought +till, all o’ a sudden, he come wrigglin’ out o’ the +wreck o’ the bridge—all messed up an’ covered wi’ +blood, but not much hurt otherways—an’ began +carryin’ on just as if it was ‘Gen’ral Quarters.’ +Some cove wi’ the stump o’ his hand tied up wi’ +First Aid dressin’ was sent up to relieve me on the +lookout, an’ I was put to fightin’ fires an’ clearin’ +up the wreck ’bove decks. As there ain’t much to +burn on a ’stroyer if the cordite ain’t started, we +were not long gettin’ the fires in hand, even wi’ +havin’—cause the hoses an’ the fire-mains was<!-- Page 55 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +knocked out—to dip up water in buckets throwed +over the side. Wi’ the wreckage, the most we could +do was to dig out the dead an’ wounded an’ rig up +for connin’ ship from aft.</p> + +<p>“It was a nasty job when we started in on the +wreck o’ the forebridge, for the witch-lights o’ the +short-circuit were still dancin’ a cancan in the +smashed an’ twisted steel plates an’ girders, an’ it +kept a cove lookin’ lively to keep from switchin’ +some of the blue-green lightnin’ into his own frame +by way o’ his ax or saw. No one that had been on +any part o’ the bridge was wi’out some kind o’ hurt, +but the three dead was a deal less than was to be +expected. There was also three very bad knocked +up, an’ on one o’ them the surgeon—a young probasuner +R.N.V.R.—performed an operashun in the +dark. It was a cove he was ’fraid to move wi’out +tinkerin’ up a bit, an’ he pulled him thro’ all right +in the end. One o’ the crew of the foremost gun +never turned up, an’ we figured he must have been +lost overboard when she rammed.</p> + +<p>“Pois’nous as it was workin’ on deck, that wasn’t +a circumstance to what it must have been carryin’ +on below. I didn’t see nothin’ o’ that end o’ the +show, thank Gawd, but every man as came out o’ it +alive said it was just one livin’ bloomin’ hell, no +less. There was a good number o’ coves who did +things off han’ that saved the ship from blowin’ up, +or burnin’ up, or sinkin’, an’ three o’ the best o’ +’em was a engine-room artif’cer, a stoker P.O., and a<!-- Page 56 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +stoker that was in the fore stokehold when the +bridge was pushed back an’ carried away that funnel. +They ducked into their resp’rators, stuck to +their posts a’ kept the fans goin’ till the fumes was +all cleared away. Nothin’ else would have saved +the foremost boiler—an’ wi’ it the ship herself—blowin’ +up right then an’ there. Same way, gettin’ +on the jump in backin’ up Number 3 bulkhead—the +one that was holding back the whole North Sea—was +all that kept it from bulgin’ in an’ floodin’ +right back into the stokeholds. It was the chief +art’ficer engineer that took on that job, an’ it was +him, too, that stopped up the gaps left by the knocking +down o’ the first and second funnels.</p> + +<p>“Even after it at last seemed like we was goin’ +to keep her from sinkin’ or blowin’ up, things still +looked so bad to the captain that he ditched the box +o’ secret books for fear o’ their fallin’ into the hands +o’ the Hun. As we’d have been more hindrance +than help to the Fleet, he did not try to rejoin the +flotilla, but turned west an’ headed for the coast o’ +England on the chance of makin’ the nearest base +while she still hung together. All night she went +slap-bangin’ along, wi’ the engines shakin’ out a few +more rev’lushuns just as fast as it seemed the bulkhead +was shored strong enough to stand the push +o’ the sea.</p> + +<p>“Mornin’ found her still goin’, but what a sight +she was! My first good look at what was left o’ +her give me the same kind o’ a shock I got the first<!-- Page 57 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +time I had a peep at my mug in a glass after havin’ +small-pox in Singapore. She wasn’t a ship at all, +any more’n my face was a face. She was just a +mess, that’s all, an’ clinkin’ an’ clankin’ an’ wheezin’ +and sneezin’ an’ yawin’ all over the sea. An’ the +sea was empty all the way roun’, wi’ no ship in sight +to pass us a tow-line or pick us up if she chucked +in her hand an’ went down.</p> + +<p>“We had our hands so full keepin’ her afloat an’ +under weigh, that it wasn’t till four in the afternoon—more’n +sixteen hours after we rammed the +Hun cru’ser—that we found time to bury our dead. +It was like gettin’ a turribl’ load off your chest +when we dropped ’em over in their hammocks wi’ +a fire-bar stitched in alongside ’em to take ’em +down. Nothin’ is so depressin’ to a sailor as bein’ +shipmates wi’ a mate that ain’t a mate no longer. +Even the ol’ <i>Firebran’</i> ’peared to ride easier an’ +more b’oyant after the buryin’ was over, as if she +knowed the worst o’ her sorrer was left behind.</p> + +<p>“Luck took a turn against us again just after +dark, for the wind shifted six or seven points an’ +started blowin’ strong from dead ahead. We had +to alter course some to ease off the bang o’ the seas +a bit, an’ fin’ly the speed had to be slowed even +slower’n before to keep the bulkhead from being +driv’ in. But she weathered it, by Gawd she did, +an’ next mornin’ the goin’ was easier. We made +the Tyne at noon. It was just a heap o’ ol’ scrap-iron +so far as the eye could see, that they let into<!-- Page 58 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +the Middle Dock the next day, but it was scrap-iron +that had come all the way from Jutland under +its own steam, an’ wi’ no help from no one save what +was left o’ the lads as once manned a ’stroyer called +the <i>Firebran’</i>.</p> + +<p>“It hadn’t taken long to reduce her from a +’stroyer to scrap-iron, an’ it didn’t seem like it took +much longer—time goes fast on home leave—to +turn that scrap-iron back into a ’stroyer again. The +ol’ <i>Firebran’s</i> got many a good kick in her yet, so +they say, an’ I’d ask for nothin’ better’n to be +finishin’ the war in her.”</p> + +<p>I thanked Melton for his yarn, bade him good +night, and was about to start picking my way to +my cabin to turn in, when I sensed rather than saw +that there was something further he wanted to say, +perhaps some final tribute to his officers and mates +of the <i>Firebrand</i>, I thought. There was a shuffling +of sea-booted feet on the steel deck, a nervous pulling +off and on of woollen mittens, and it was out.</p> + +<p>“I just wanted to say, sir,” he said, “that I +likes the Yankee Jackies very much; ’specially +their candy an’ chewin’ gum. I was just wonderin’ +if that last stick you give me was all——”</p> + +<p>I emptied both pockets before I renewed my +thanks to Melton and bade him a final good night. +There are strange ingredients entering into the +composition of the cement that is binding Britain +and America together, and if there is any objection +to chewing gum it certainly cannot be on the +ground that it lacks adhesiveness.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><!-- Page 59 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>“BACK FROM THE JAWS”</h3> + + +<p>I had gone to the <i>Nairobi</i>, not because the +rather routine stunt her flotilla was on promised +any excitement, but rather because of the +notable part she had played in the Jutland action +and the fact that I had been assured that there was +still in her an officer who was said to have figured +prominently in the splendid account she had given +of herself on that occasion. As luck would have it, +however, this officer had been appointed to another +destroyer only a day or two previously, so that no +veteran of the great action remained in the ward +room. A canvass of the ship’s company revealed +that one of the stoker petty officers was a Jutland +survivor, but before I could run him to cover some +kind of a light cruiser affair had occurred down +Heligoland Bight way which called for destroyer +work in that direction, and the next two days, with +the flotilla creasing up the brine at high speed and +everyone at Action Stations most of the time, were +not favourable for the “intimate reminiscence” I +was bent on drawing out.</p> + +<p>It was not until the flotilla, salt-frosted and low +in fuel, was lounging along in the leisurely dalliance<!-- Page 60 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +of half-speed on the way back to base that I cornered +Stoker Petty Officer Prince in the angle between +the foremost torpedo tubes and the starboard +rail, and engaged him in serious discussion of the +shamefulness of supplying worn-out films to the +Depôt Ship kinema. The second dog watch was +only half gone, but in the hour that elapsed before +it was over there was no mention of Jutland, or +anything else connected with the war for that matter, +though the talk ran the full gamut from cabbages +to kings. I mean this quite literally, for he +began by telling me of what his mother had raised +in her allotment at Ipswich, and was describing +how, when he was on a cruise in the <i>Clio</i> ten years +before the war, he had once shaken hands with the +King of Fiji, as eight bells went to call him on +watch. It was a happy inspiration which prompted +me to volunteer to go down and stand a part of his +watch with him in the stokehold, for once on his +own “dung-hill,” his restraint fell away from him +and he spoke easily and naturally of the things +which had befallen him there and on the deck +above.</p> + +<p>There is little in the small, neat compartment +from which the oil fires of a modern destroyer are +fed and controlled to suggest the picture which the +name “stokehold” conjures up in the popular mind. +There is no coal, no grime, no sweating shovellers, +no clanging doors. Under ordinary conditions two +leisurely moving men do all there is need of doing,<!-- Page 61 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +and with time to spare, and there are occasions at +sea, in the winter months, when the stokehold is a +more comfortable refuge than the chill fireless ward +room. It was my remarking upon the grateful +warmth of the stokehold after the cold wet wind +that was sweeping the deck, which finally turned +the current of Prince’s reminiscence in the direction +I had been vainly endeavouring to deflect it for +the last hour.</p> + +<p>“It’s all comfy enough, sir, when she’s loafing +along at fifteen or twenty knots,” he said, slipping +aside a “flap” and peering in at his fires with the +critical eye of a housewife surveying her oven of +bread, “but just tumble in some time when, while +she already plugging away at full speed, the engine-room +rings up more steam. That’s the time she’s +just one little bit of hell down here, sir, with the +white sizzle of the fires turning the furnaces to a +red that shows even with the lights on, and the +plates underfoot getting so hot that you have to +keep dancing to prevent the soles of your boots +from catching fire. Why, long toward morning of +the night after Jutland——”</p> + +<p>It didn’t take much manœuvring from that vantage +to back him up to the beginning for a fresh +start of the story of what is unquestionably one of +the most remarkable, as it was one of the most +successful, phases of the Jutland destroyer action. +The fact that, during the daylight action between +the battle cruisers, he had ample opportunity for<!-- Page 62 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +observation (through his being on deck standing +by in the event of emergency and without active +duties to perform) makes him undoubtedly one of +the most valuable witnesses of the opening phase +of this the greatest of all naval battles. The story +which I am setting down connectedly, he told me +in the comfortable intervals of his leisurely fire-trimming, +and, once he was warmed up to it, with +little prompting or questioning from myself. Much +of it was punctuated with frequent stabs and +slashes with one of the short-handled pokers which +perform for the stoker of an oil-burner a service +similar to that rendered his brother of the coal-burner +by his mighty “slice” of iron.</p> + +<p>“Big as the difference is between being on deck +and in the stokehold at ordinary times,” said +Prince, turning round with glare-blinded eyes +closed to narrow slits after cracking off the accumulating +carbon from an oil-sprayer with his poker, +“it is ten times more so when a fight is on, and I’ll +always be jolly thankful that it was my luck not +to be caged up down here during the daylight part +of the Jutland show. I had my turn of it at night, +and it was bad enough then, even though I knew it +was blacker’n the pit above; but, in daylight, with +everything in full view outside, I’m not sure I +wouldn’t have gone off my chuck if I’d had to go +‘squirrel-caging’ on here with one eye on the fires +and the other on the Kilroy. But I didn’t. It was +my luck to be off watch when the ball opened, so<!-- Page 63 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +that my ‘action station’ was just loafing round +the deck and keeping a stock of leak-stopping gear—mushroom-spreaders +and wooden plugs—ready +to use as soon as we got holed. Not having anything +to do with navigating the ship, or signalling, or +serving the guns or torpedo tubes—though I did get +a bit of a chance with a mouldie as it turned out—I +not only had time to see, but also to let the sights +‘sink in’ like. For that reason, when it was all +over, I was probably able to give a more connected +yarn of what happened than anyone else in the +ship, not excepting the captain. They’ll take a lot +of forgetting, some of the things I saw that day.”</p> + +<p>Prince went over and settled down at ease on the +steel steps of the ladder. “The worst grudge I had +against Jutland—save for the way it whiffed out +the lives of some of my friends in some of the other +destroyers—” he continued with a grin, “was for +making me miss my tea that afternoon. We left +base the night before, and about daybreak joined +up with the ‘battlers,’ which was our way of speaking +of the First Battle Cruiser Squadron, to which +the flotilla was attached. It was a fairly decent +day, and we were able to make good weather of it +with the light wind and easy swell. I had stood the +forenoon watch, had a bit of a doss in my hammock +in the early part of the afternoon one, and had just +gone down to tea before going on for the ‘First +Dog.’ There had been some buzz in the morning +about the Huns being out; but that was so old a<!-- Page 64 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +story that no one paid much attention to it. I was +just getting my nose over the edge of a mug of tea +when I heard the bos’un growling ‘Hands exercise +action stations,’ and tumbled out on deck to go +through the motions of getting ready for a fight +that would never come off, or leastways that was +how we felt about it. The ‘battlers’ were speeding +up a bit, but there was not even a smudge of smoke +on the horizon to hint of Huns. After rigging the +fire-hoses and getting out my ‘plugs,’ I stood by +for ‘what next,’ but nothing happened. At the end +of half an hour the order ‘Hands fall out’ was +passed, and, leaving everything rigged, down we +went to tea again. The mugs we had left were stone +cold by this time, and we were just raising a howl +for a fresh lot when, ‘Bing!’ off goes the alarm +bells, and up we rushes again, this time to find +signs of what we had been looking and hoping for. +A good many hours went by before we went below +again, and all through the fight—when things would +ease off a bit now and then—I would hear the +‘matlos’ grousing about missing their afternoon +tea.</p> + +<p>“The old <i>Nairobi</i> was nosing along under the +port bow of the <i>Lion</i> as I came up, and so close that +we saw her guns—trained out abeam with a high +elevation, right above us. We seemed to be speeding +up to take station farther ahead. There was +nothing at all in sight (from the deck, at least; +though probably there was a better look-see from<!-- Page 65 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +the bridge) in the direction the <i>Lion’s</i> guns were +trained, and it was almost as if a bomb had been +dropped from the sky when a shell came plumping +down about half-way between our starboard quarter +and her port bow. The fact is, having heard no +sound of gunfire, I was so surprised that I foolishly +asked someone if the <i>Lion</i> hadn’t blown out one of +her tompions testing a circuit. The spout of foam +should have told me better, but it goes to show what +crazy things run through a man’s mind when he +can only see effect without the cause. A few +moments later I saw unmistakable gun-flashes +blinking along the skyline to south’ard and knew +that at last we were under the fire of the Huns. +The next two or three shots fell singly, and were +plainly merely attempts to get the range. Following +the first ‘short,’ there were one or two ‘over,’ +and then a fair hit. This one, falling almost +straight, struck the fo’c’sl’ of the <i>Lion</i>, penetrated +the deck and came out on the starboard side. I +don’t think it exploded, and we were just far +enough ahead to see past her bows to where it +struck the water with a kind of spattery splash, +not at all like the clean spout thrown by a shell +which goes straight into the sea.</p> + +<p>“Then there was a big spurt of flame from the +<i>Lion</i>, and the screech of shells reached my ears, even +before the heavy crash of her four-gun salvo. Watch +as I would, I could not make out the distant fall of +shot, but the fluttering flashes of the Hun guns to<!-- Page 66 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +the south’ard told where the target was. Firing +opened up all along the line of our battle cruisers +after that, and the racket from that and the fast +falling enemy shells increased till it was a steady +unbroken roar. The Hun shells were falling so +straight that many of the ‘overs’ missed by only +a few yards. The hits, of which there were quite a +number on the leading ships, looked rather awful +at the moment of exploding. There would be a wild +gush of flame that seemed to be eating up everything +it touched, and then, all of a sudden, it was gone, +and only a few little fires would be left flickering on +the deck. The shells which struck against the sides +seemed to nip on into the sea almost before they +began to explode. Neither these, nor even those +which struck the decks and turrets, seemed to be +doing much damage at this stage, and our own +firing never slackened in the least. I think none of +the destroyers were hit up to now, though there +were a number of very near things from some of +the ‘overs.’ Our turn was coming.</p> + +<p>“This sort of a give-and-take fight had been +going on for some time, when there was a sudden +increase of the enemy’s fire. From the way the +fresh fall of shot came ranging up, it was very plain +that new ships were coming into action, while the +fact that the splashes were higher and heavier than +those from the first salvoes seemed to make it likely +that some of the Hun battleships had now arrived +at the party. As it turned out, this was just what<!-- Page 67 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +had happened, and, although we could not see them +from the low decks of the destroyers, the first +B.C.S. was soon under the fire of the whole Hun +High Seas Fleet. It was to draw these on into +action with our approaching Battle Fleet that +Beatty now turned away to the north’ard.</p> + +<p>“Right here was where the big moment of this +part of the fight came. The Huns must have scented +the chance of catching our battle cruisers on the +‘windy corner’ as they turned, for suddenly their +fire slackened on the ships down the line and concentrated +on the point where that line began to +bend. It must have been something like the barrage +they make at the Front, for at times the water +thrown up by the bursting shell made a solid wall +which completely cut off my view of the ships beyond +it. The way it seemed to boil up and quiet +down looked like there was some sort of general +control over the bunched fire, though that sort of +thing would be pretty hard to handle.</p> + +<p>“The <i>Lion</i> caught only a corner of the ‘boil,’ and +left it on her starboard quarter, but the shell or two +that struck her started a fierce fire burning ’midships, +and I did not see the guns of that turret again +in action. The ‘P.R.’—the <i>Princess Royal</i>—turned +in a quiet interval of the barrage, and seemed not to +be hit, but the <i>Queen Mary</i> steamed right into it, +and just seemed to dissolve in a big puff of smoke +and steam. I have no special memory of the noise +or shock of the explosion, but the pillar of smoke<!-- Page 68 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +shot up as sudden and solid as a ‘Jack-in-the-box.’ +It was black underneath, but always with a crown +of flame at the top, as though the gases were spouting +up inside and taking fire as they met the air. +Some of my mates said they saw big pieces of flying +wreckage, such as plates from turrets and decks, +but I only remember smoke and flame. I never saw +a bit of the ‘Q.M.’ again. When the smoke cloud +lifted she was gone completely, with nothing but a +gap in the line to mark the place where she had +been. The thing looked so impossible that the +‘T.I.’ (that was what we called the torpedo gunner’s +mate, because he was also torpedo instructor), who +was standing beside me, kept saying over an over +again, ‘She’s not gone up! She’s not gone up!’</p> + +<p>“Perhaps it was no more than a coincidence, but +it has always struck me as being just a bit uncanny +the way that barrage on the ‘windy corner’ seemed +to ‘work by threes.’ The ‘Q.M.’ was third in line, +and up she went after the <i>Lion</i> and ‘P.R.’ had +passed unhurt. Then the <i>Tiger</i> and <i>New Zealand</i> +weathered the turn safely, but the poor old <i>Indefat</i>.—Number +three again—got hers. She went up +under a rain of shells plumping down on her deck, +just as the ‘Q.M.’ did, and I remember specially +watching the top of a turret go spinning up into the +air, till it almost disappeared, and then came slowly +down again, till it was lost in the rising smoke of +the explosion.</p> + +<p>“The fire of the Huns began to be divided more<!-- Page 69 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +equally among the four surviving battle cruisers +now, and the <i>Nairobi</i> was led a lively dance dodging +about among the ‘overs.’ It was the big fire raging +amidships that turned my eyes to the <i>Lion</i> again. +One of the guns of the ’midships turret had a sickly +droop to it, but the other three turrets were blazing +away as merry as ever. We were close enough to +see men on the bridge with the naked eye, and it +suddenly occurred to me that one of the quietly +moving figures there must be Admiral Beatty, who +I knew hated to be cooped up in a conning tower in +action. I could not be sure which he was, but everyone +in sight looked no more concerned than if they +had been steaming out for target practice. I didn’t +have time to think of it then, but every time since +that I’ve felt surer and surer that no man since the +world began ever showed more real guts than +Beatty in that part of the Jutland show.”</p> + +<p>Prince stood up, and put a forty-five degree kink +in his poker by slamming it over the steel rail of the +ladder to emphasise his words, and then stopped +talking for a minute or two while he worried it +straight with a hammer.</p> + +<p>“It was just about this time,” he resumed, squinting +approvingly down the straightened bar, “that +the <i>Nectar</i> hoisted the signal, ‘Second Division prepare +for torpedo attack,’ and a few minutes later I +saw the whole flotilla start streaming out, some +ahead of the battle cruiser line, and some through +it, toward the Huns. I also have some memory of<!-- Page 70 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +seeing the ——th flotilla, smoking like young factory +chimneys, coming out astern of the line, but I had +no chance to see what became of them.</p> + +<p>“The range between us and the Huns had been +decreasing for some time, and the battle cruisers at +the head of the line loomed up pretty big and awful +as we started to close them. I’ve never made quite +sure yet whether we were sent out to repel an attack +of the Hun destroyers, or whether they were sent +out to repel our attack. Anyhow, there they were, +filtering out through their battle cruisers just as we +had filtered through ours. We met and turned them +back something more than half-way between the +lines, but before we got to that point we had to +pass, first through the fire of the Hun heavies, and +then through a still hotter zone where their secondaries +were slapping down a barrage that took some +fancy side-stepping to avoid coming to grief in. The +<i>Onward</i> was the first of our division to fall by the +wayside. She stopped a ’leven-inch shell with her +engine-room, and got stopped in turn herself. +Luckily it didn’t explode, or she would have been +blown out of the water then and there. I saw her +fall out of line and disappear in a cloud of steam, +and that was the last peep we had of her for many +weeks. When she finally rejoined the flotilla, we +learned that she and another cripple—the <i>Fencer</i>, +I think it was—had limped back home together. I +don’t remember just where the <i>Wanderer</i> got hers, +but I think it must have been from the Hun’s<!-- Page 71 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +secondaries. Anyhow, the first thing I remember +was that she was gone, and that the <i>Nectar</i> was +leading the <i>Nairobi</i>—all that was left of the division—on +a course to cross the bows of the enemy +battle cruisers. The Hun destroyers, which had no +chance with us in a gun fight, had now turned tail +and were heading back for the shelter of their battle +line. Several of them appeared on fire, but I didn’t +see any sinking.</p> + +<p>“I am not quite sure what orders were made to +the flotilla at this time, but I rather think that after +the Hun attack had been stopped the signal was +hoisted to return to the battle cruisers. I think that +is what the other divisions did do, but for our division—or +what remained of it—things were looking +too promising just then to turn our backs on. I +was standing by the foremost tubes at the time, and +all of a sudden the Hun line began to turn away, +and I saw that the leading ship was being heavily +hit and that she was afire in two or three places. As +she turned she presented us a fine broadside target +at about three thousand yards, and the order came +from the bridge to ‘Stand by foremost tubes and +fire when sights come on.’</p> + +<p>“The turning of the Hun battle cruiser line exposed +us to the fire of a number of his light cruisers +which had been seeking shelter behind it, and some +smashing salvoes from these began to plump down +all around us just as we got ready to launch the torpedoes. +Though there was not one direct hit, we<!-- Page 72 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +were ‘straddled’ a dozen times, and the foam +spouts tossed up by the shells exploding on striking +the water made a wall of smoke and spray that almost +shut off a view of our target. Shell fragments +were slamming up against the funnels and tinkling +on the decks, and I believe two or three men were +hit by them, though not much hurt. It was this sudden +savage shelling that spoiled the only chance we +had at the Hun big ’uns. Just as the sights were coming +on to the leading ship a salvo came down kerplump +right abreast of the foremost tubes, throwing +a solid spout of green water all over them. I saw +both mouldies start to slide out, but only one struck +the water and began to run. A moment later I saw +that the other, for some reason we never found out, +but probably because it had been knocked sideways +by the rush of water or perhaps a fragment of shell, +was hanging by its tail to the lip of the tube, with +its war-head full of gun-cotton trailing in the sea. +It cleared itself when the next sea slapped it against +the side, and started diving and jumping about like +a wounded porpoise, most likely because its propellers +had been knocked out. Luckily, our speed +carried us on before it had a chance to ‘boomerang’ +back and blow up the old <i>Nairobi</i>. We could not +watch the first torpedo run on account of the spouts +from the falling shells, but though it started right +to cross the enemy’s line, there was nothing to make +us believe it scored a hit.</p> + +<p>“Before there was time to grieve over losing our<!-- Page 73 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +chance at the battle cruisers the ‘T.I.’ called me to +give him a hand with the ‘midships’ tubes, as one +of his men had been knocked out. ‘There’s a light +cruiser just going to bear for a shot,’ he yelled +from his seat between the tubes as I ran round to +the breech; ‘jump up and tell me what speed she’s +making. I can’t see her fair from here.’ The trouble +was that the awful speed the <i>Nairobi</i> was going at +settled her down so low that, anywhere abaft the +bridge, a man couldn’t see over the bow wave from +the deck. But, standing on top of the tubes, I was +high enough to get a good look at the Hun, when he +wasn’t shut off by the spouts from the fall of shot. +He was a small three-funnelled light cruiser, and +every gun he had looked to be training on us. +Another cruiser astern of him was also firing on the +<i>Nairobi</i>, while two or three others were concentrating +on the <i>Nectar</i>. She was getting it even hotter +than we were, and all I could see of her—when one +of her zigzags brought her to one side or the other +so the bridge didn’t cut her off from my view—was +some masts and funnels sliding along in the middle +of a dancing patch of foam fountains. Both <i>Nectar</i> +and <i>Nairobi</i> were replying for all they were worth +with their foremost guns; the after ones were too +low down to fire at such close range with much +effect. I saw one of our shells bursting on the Huns, +and why their shooting at us was so bad I have +never quite understood. The fact we were settled +so deep aft from our speed was plainly making a lot<!-- Page 74 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +of shells ricochet over what would otherwise have +been hits, but, at the same time, the bows being so +much higher out of the water offered all the more +target for’ard. It was more ‘Joss’ than anything +else, I suppose. Besides, the <i>Nectar</i> was just on +the edge of getting hers anyhow.</p> + +<p>“I saw all these things out of the corner of my +eye like, for my mind was centred on getting what +the ‘T.I.’ wanted to know about his cruiser. I +knew just what this was to a ‘t,’ for I’d taken many +a turn of drill at the tubes. ‘Parallel courses, +thousand yards range, speed about twenty-five,’ I +shouted, jumping down again; ‘and you’ll have to +slip her right smart or you’ll miss your chance.’ +Right then the seas flattened down for a few seconds, +and the ‘T.I.’, giving me an order of how to +train her, set his sights and pulled the cocking +lever. A moment later he fired, and the mouldie +slipped out smooth and easy and started running +straight and true for a point the Hun was going to +arrive at about a minute later.”</p> + +<p>Prince had been poking away at a sprayer as he +talked, with the fluttering light-mote from the fire +in the heart of the furnace playing on one of his +squinting eyes in a way that, with the other +quenched in shadow, gave his face a look of Cyclopean +fierceness. “I jumped up on the tubes again to +follow our little tin fish on its swim,” he resumed. +“There seemed to be a bit of a flap on the cruiser, +for its next salvo fell a long way short of us. One<!-- Page 75 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +of the shells—a five-or six-incher—did not explode, +but bounced off the water and came ‘skip-jacking’ +along straight for us. It kicked into the water +twice before it reached us, the second time right +at the base of the wave that was rolling up and +hiding our sunken stern, and that seemed to give +it just enough of an up-flip to make it clear the +<i>Nairobi’s</i> shivering hull. It came so slow that I +caught the glint of the copper band round its base, +and so low that the after superstructure blotted it +off from my sight as it passed over the stern. One of +the after gun’s crew told me he could have reached +up and patted it as it tumbled along over his head. +He said it was going so slow that he hardly felt any +wind at all from it. Perhaps that was because he +had his own wind up, though, for it was making a +great buzz, and must have been carrying a big +‘tail’ of air in its wake.</p> + +<p>“I lost track of our mouldie when I ducked—no, +I don’t mind admitting that’s just what I did, +though it missed me by a mile—and before I could +get my eye on its wake again it had gone home. I +think they must have spotted it coming on the +cruiser, for I saw her begin to alter course away +just about the time I figured it was due to arrive. +If they were altering to avoid the mouldie, they +turned the wrong way, for it only brought right +abreast the funnels what’d ‘a’ been a hit somewhere +about the bridge. I’ve got a picture in my mind +of what happened that I’m dead certain is as true<!-- Page 76 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +as a photograph, and the spout of water that went +up must have been almost exactly amidships. If +the hit had been anywhere for’rard it would never +have broken her back the way it did, and she might +have got away. The funny part of it was that it +was not the ’midships section of her, where the +mouldie hit, that seemed to be lifted by the explosion. +That part of her seemed just to go to +pieces and begin to sink all at once, while the bow +and stern halves started to come up and close together +like a jack-knife. She must have gone down +inside of a minute or two, but things were happening +so fast I don’t think I was looking when she +disappeared.”</p> + +<p>Prince, engrossed in his story, forgot that the end +of his poker had a sheet of flame playing upon it, +and the heat which crept back from the rosy-red tip +gave his palm a sharp singe as he clutched the +handle preparatory to executing one of his sweeping +gestures. From then on to the end of his narrative +he paused frequently to lick with his tongue +the blistered cuticle, the stoker’s sovereign remedy +for a slight burn. “I was just starting to give the +‘T.I.’ an account of what I had had a lot better +chance to see than he had,” he went on thickly, +still touching the blisters gingerly with an extended +tongue-tip, “when I heard him growl, ‘Stand by! +here’s another one. What speed d’you think she’s +making?’ I was still standing up on top of the +tubes, and—to get a better view—right in front of<!-- Page 77 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +the ‘T.I.’, with my waist on just about the level of +his face. As I turned my head to look at the second +Hun he straddled us fair with a full salvo. +Most of it went over, but one proj struck right +alongside and just about flooded us out. But there +was something heavier than water that it sent +aboard. I felt a sharp sting across my stomach, +as if someone had given me a cut with a whip. As +I put my hand down to it the whole front of my +overall dropped away where a fragment of shell +casing had shot across it. A few threads—I found +out later—had been started on my singlet, but my +hide was not even scratched. I heard the ‘T.I.’ give +a yell, and when I looked round saw his face +covered with blood, and a flap of skin from his forehead +hanging down over one eye like a skye terrier’s +ear. The piece of proj had caught him a nasty +side-swipe, though without hurting anything but +his looks in the least. And it wasn’t that he was +yelling about, either, but at me for not giving him +the course and speed of the second cruiser. He had +the flap of skin tied up out of his eye—using a strip +of my overall because neither of us could find a +handkerchief—by the time I was back at the handle. +I saw the blood dribbling over his sights, but he +seemed to be seeing through them all right, for he +was telling me how to train when I felt the helm +begin to grind as it was thrown hard over to make +a sudden alteration of course. She heeled fifteen +or twenty degrees as she turned six points to starboard,<!-- Page 78 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +and the boil of her wake flooded across her +stern three or four feet deep. The sudden heel +threw me off my feet, and I pulled up just in time +to see us rushing by, and just missing by a few +yards, a stopped destroyer that was nothing but +spurts of fire flashing under a rolling cloud of +steam and smoke.</p> + +<p>“She seemed to be afire all over, and about ready +to blow up; yet, from the quick flashes of some of +the spurts of fire, I knew they came from a hard-pumped +gun that some stout-hearted lads were +working to the last. There was nothing in the look +of that spouting volcano of smoke and steam that +would help a man to tell whether it was a battleship +or a trawler, but I knew that it could be only +the <i>Nectar</i>, our Division leader. We never saw +her nor anyone in her again. She must have gone +down within a few minutes, and anyone that survived +fell into the hands of the enemy. She led us +a fine dance while it lasted, and the only pity was +that she couldn’t trip it to the end.</p> + +<p>“That left the old <i>Nairobi</i> as the last of the Division, +and I haven’t any recollection of any of the +rest of the flotilla being in sight by then. Not that +I had any time to look for them, though. Our sudden +change of course to keep from ramming the +<i>Nectar</i> spoiled our chance at the second Hun +cruiser, but we were left no time to mourn that any +more than the finish of the <i>Nectar</i>. Hardly had we +left the wreck of her astern than a full salvo of<!-- Page 79 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +large shells—I think they must have come from one +of the battle cruisers, for they were much heavier +than anything the light cruisers were firing—struck +only thirty or forty yards short of us. The shells +were bunched together like a salvo of air-bombs +kicked loose all at once. The wall of water they +threw up shut everything on that side off from +sight for a few seconds, and when the spouts settled +down there was a Hun destroyer inside of a mile +away. I jumped up to give her course and speed to +the ‘T.I.’, but before I had time more than to see +that she had two funnels and many tubes the bursting +projes from our foremost and midships guns +began knocking her to pieces so fast that I soon saw +there was no use of wasting a mouldie on the job.</p> + +<p>“I saw the captain waving encouragement from +the bridge to the crew of the midships guns, and, +when the noise died down for a moment, I heard +him shout, ‘You’ve got her! Give it to her!’ Just +then another salvo was plastered a-straddle of us, +and I saw a fragment of shell knock the sight-setter +of the midships gun out of his seat. He looked a +little dazed as he climbed back, but his eye must +have been as good as ever, for I saw his next shot +make a hit square on a whaler they were lowering +from the sinking Hun and blow it to bits. A minute +or two more, and the destroyer itself blew up and +disappeared under a column of steam and smoke.</p> + +<p>“That,” continued Prince, beginning to prod +anew his neglected sprayers, “just about concluded<!-- Page 80 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +our day’s work. As there was no longer any prospect +of getting in mouldie-range of any of the big +Huns, and as none of the little Huns were in sight +to fight with gun-fire, it must have occurred to the +captain that it was time he was rejoining the +flotilla. There was only some dark blurs on the +north’ard skyline to steer for at first, and the Huns +did all they knew to keep us from getting there, +too. For a while we were doing nothing but playing +‘hide-and-seek’ among the salvoes they tried to +stop us with, and I have heard since that the way +the captain used his helm to avoid being hit at this +stage of the show was rated as about the cleverest +work of the kind in the whole battle.</p> + +<p>“It was the Fifth B.S.—the <i>Queen Elizabeth</i> +class—that we caught up to first, and a grand sight +it was, the four of them standing up and giving +battle to about the whole of the High Sea Fleet. +They were taking a heavy pounding without turning +a hair, so far as a man could see, and even when +the <i>Warspite</i> had her steering gear knocked out +and went steaming in circles it didn’t seem to upset +the other three very much. We sighted our own +Battle Fleet about six, and rejoined the flotilla in +good time to be back with the battle cruisers when +Beatty took them round the head of the Hun line +and only failed to cut off their retreat through +night coming on.</p> + +<p>“Compared with what the next six or eight +hours held for some of our destroyers—or even<!-- Page 81 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +with what we had just been through ourselves—the +night for us was fairly quiet. We were in +action once or twice, and I saw several ships—mostly +enemy, but one or two of our own—go up +in flame and smoke before I went on watch down +here at midnight. But through it all the devil’s +own luck which had been with us from the first +held good. Although we were through the very +hottest of the day action, and not the least of the +night, the old <i>Nairobi</i> did not receive one direct hit +from an enemy shell. She accounted for at least +two Hun ships, saw the other three destroyers of +her division sunk or put out of action, and returned +to base with almost empty oil tanks and perhaps +the largest mileage to her credit of any craft in +the Jutland battle—all without a serious casualty +or more than a few scratches to her paint. On top +of it all, on the way back to harbour, by the queerest +fluke you ever heard of, she rammed and exploded +the air-chamber of a mouldie that had been +fired by a Hun U-boat at the destroyer next in line +ahead of her. As the Yanks say, ‘Can you beat +it?’”</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><!-- Page 82 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>HUNTING</h3> + + +<p>“If it’s destroyer work you want, there are five +of them getting under weigh at four +o’clock,” said the “Senior Officer Present,” +looking at his watch. “You’ll have just about +time to pick up your luggage and connect if you +want to go. I can’t tell you what they’re going to +do—they won’t know that themselves till they get +to sea, and their orders may be changed from hour +to hour, and things may happen to send them to +the Channel, France, or to several other places, on +and off the chart, before they put in here again. +But there’ll be work to do—plenty of it. That’s +the best part of this corner of the North Atlantic +in which our Allies have done the American destroyers +the honour of setting them on the U-boats. +Whatever else you may suffer from, it won’t be +from ennui.” It was luck indeed, on two hours’ +notice, to have the chance of getting out in just the +way I had planned, where I had been quite prepared +to stand-by for twice as many days, and I +fell in with the arrangement at once.</p> + +<p>Captain X—— ran his eye down a board where +the names of a number of destroyers were displayed<!-- Page 83 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +against certain data indicating their whereabouts +and disposition. “<i>Zop</i>, <i>Zap</i>, <i>Zip</i>, <i>Zim</i>, +<i>Zam</i>,” he read musingly. “<i>Zip</i>—yes, I don’t think +I can do better than send you on the <i>Zip</i>. Her +skipper is as keen as he is able, and the <i>Zip</i> herself +has the reputation of having something of a nose +for U-boats on her own account. I’ll advise him +you’re coming. Pick up your sea togs and put off +to her as soon as you can. Good luck.” The +American naval officer, like the British, never says +“Good-bye” if it can possibly be avoided.</p> + +<p>They were already preparing to unmoor as I +clambered over the side of the <i>Zip</i>, and by the time +I had shifted to sea-boots and oilskins in the captain’s +cabin—which, unoccupied by himself during +that strenuous interval, was to be mine at sea—she +was swinging in the stream and nosing out into the +creaming wakes of the two of her dazzle-painted +sisters who were preceding her down the bay.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>There are several things that strike one as different +on going to an American warship after a spell in +a British ship of the same class, but the one which +surges to meet you and goes to your head like wine +is the all-pervading spirit of vibrant, sparkling, unquenchable +youthfulness. Everything you see and +hear seems to radiate it—every throb of the engines, +every beat of the screws—and at first you +may almost get the impression that it comes from +the ship herself. But when you start to trace it<!-- Page 84 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +down, you find it bubbles from a single fount, the +men, or rather the boys—the lounging, laughing, +devil-may-care boys. Theirs the alchemy to transform +every one and everything that comes near +them into the golden seeming of themselves.</p> + +<p>This youthfulness of the American destroyers is +in the crew rather than the officers, for the latter—especially +the captain and executive—will average, +if anything, a shade older than their “opposite +numbers” in a British destroyer. There is a certain +minimum of highly specialised work in navigating +and fighting a destroyer which must be in +the hands of officers and men who can have only +attained the requisite training in long years of +technical study and practical experience. Given +these, and the remainder of the ship’s company—provided +only that they have digestive organs that +will continue to function when tilted through a +dozen different slants and angles in as many seconds—can +be trained to perfection in an astonishingly +short time. Here it is that America has +scored, for there is no doubt that the youngsters +that have rushed to enrol themselves for her destroyer +service are better educated and quicker in +mind and body than those available for any other +navy in the war. It is the incomparable adaptability +these advantages have conspired to give him +that has made the Yankee destroyer rating a combination +of keenness and efficiency that leaves little, +if anything, to be desired on either score.<!-- Page 85 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<p>Here is the way a British naval officer who is +familiar with the work of the American destroyer +flotilla expressed himself in this connection: “The +ship’s company of any one of these American destroyers,” +he said, “will average a good five years +younger than that of a British destroyer. Off +hand, one would say that this would tell against +them, but, as a matter of fact, quite the contrary +is the case.</p> + +<p>“Given that the command and the technical operations +are in the hands of highly trained and +fairly serious-minded officers, you can’t have too +much slapbang, hell-for-leather, devil-take-the-consequences +spirit in the ship’s company. And where +will you find that save in the youngsters—tireless, +fearless, careless boys. They’ve found that out in +the air services, and we’re finding it out in the destroyers. +And right there—in these quick-headed, +quick-footed super-boys of theirs—is where the Yankee +destroyers have the best of us. It is they—working +under consummately clever officers—that +enabled the American destroyer flotilla to reach +in a stride a working efficiency which we had been +straining up to for three years.”</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The green hills astern had turned grey and dissolved +in mist and darkness before the captain was +able to announce what work was afoot for us. The +<i>Zim</i> and <i>Zam</i>, it appeared, were to be detached on +some mission of their own, while the <i>Zop</i>, <i>Zap</i>,<!-- Page 86 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +and <i>Zip</i>, after “hunting” submarines for some +time, were to proceed to a certain port, pick up the +<i>Lymptania</i>, and escort her through the danger +zone on her westward voyage. The captain was +grinning as he finished reading the order. “I can’t +give you any definite assurance,” he said, “that +the hunt part of the stunt is going to scare up any +U-boats, although the prospects this week are more +promising than for some time; but”—he turned +his level gaze to the westward, where the in-rolling +Atlantic swells were blotting with undulant humps +the fading primrose of the narrow strip of after-glow—“if +this wind and sea keep the same force +and direction for three or four days more, I’ll +promise you all the excitement your heart can desire +when we take on our escort duties. The last +time we took out the old <i>Lymptania</i>—well, I’ve +got marks on me yet from the corners I got banged +up against, and as for the poor little <i>Zip</i>—but she’s +had a refit since and most of the scars have been +removed. As you will have ample chance to see +for yourself, there isn’t a lot of <i>dolce far niente</i> in +any of this life we lead in connection with our little +game here, but if there is one phase of our activities +that is farther removed from ‘peace, perfect peace’ +than any other, it is trying to screen an ex-Atlantic +greyhound that is boring at umpty-ump knots into +a head wind and sea. Strafing U-boats is a Sunday-school +picnic in comparison at any time; but +it will be worse this week because they have just<!-- Page 87 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +put down a couple of big liners, and the skipper of +the <i>Lymptania</i>, knowing they will be laying for +him, will force her like he was trying to get his +company the trans-Atlantic mail subsidy. For us +to cut zigzags around that kind of a thing—but +you’ll be able to judge for yourself. I only hope +we can catch you a U-boat or two by way of preliminary, +so as to lead up to the climax by slow +degrees.”</p> + +<p>Things were fairly comfy that night—that is, as +comfort goes in a destroyer. There was a good stiff +wind and a good deal more than a lop of sea running; +but as both were coming on the quarter and +we were plodding along at no great speed, the <i>Zip</i> +made very passable weather of it. The bridge, save +for occasional showers of light spray where a sea +slapped over the side, was quite dry, and even on +the long run of low deck amidships there were several +havens of refuge where the men off watch could +foregather to smoke and yarn without fear of more +than an occasional spurt of brine. A dry deck +does not chance every day that a destroyer is on +business bent at sea, and when it does, like sunshine +in Scotland, is a thing to luxuriate in.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a name="PAWS" id="PAWS"><img src="images/illo03.jpg" alt="KAMERADING WITH UPLIFTED PAWS" + style="border:0" title="KAMERADING WITH UPLIFTED PAWS" + height="369" width="600" /></a> +</div> + +<h4>“KAMERADING” WITH UPLIFTED PAWS</h4> + + +<p>As the twilight deepened and melted into the +light of a moon that was but a day or two from the +full—“bad luck for the <i>Lymptania</i> convoy, that +moon,” the captain had said as he noted how it was +waxing on his chart—I came down from the bridge +and worked along from group to group of the sailor<!-- Page 88 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +men where, lounging and laughing, they sheltered +in the lee of funnel and boat and superstructure. +The first one I pushed into was centred round a +discussion, or rather an argument, between two +boys, the one from Kansas and the other from +Oklahoma, as to which had raised the best and +biggest corn in the course of some sort of growing +competitions they had once taken part in. Several +others standing about also appeared to have come +from one or other of those fine naval-recruiting +States of the Middle West, and seemed to know +not a little about intensive maize culture themselves. +I was just ingratiating myself with this +party by nodding assent and voicing an emphatic +“Sure!” to one’s query of “Some corn that, mister, +hey?” when I discovered a cosmopolitan group +(two Filipino stewards, the coloured cook, and +three or four bluejackets in sleeveless grey +sweaters) collaborating in the arduous task of +teaching a very sad-faced white mongrel to sit up on +his haunches and beg. Or rather it was an elaboration +of that classic trick. On drawing nearer I +perceived that the lugubrious-visaged canine +already had mastered begging for food, and that +now they were endeavouring to teach him to beg +for mercy. At the order “Kamerad!” instead of +sitting with down-drooping paws, he was being +instructed to raise the latter above his head and +give tongue to a wail of entreaty. He was a +brighter pup than his looks would have indicated,<!-- Page 89 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +and had already become letter perfect in the wail. +“Kamerading” properly with uplifted paws, however, +was rather too much for his balance, at least +while teetering on the edge of a condensed milk +case which was itself sliding about the deck of a +careening destroyer. The dog had been christened +“Ole Oleson,” one of the sailors told me, both because +he was “some kind of a Swede” and because, +like his famous namesake, he had tried to come +aboard in “two jumps” the day they found him +perched on a bit of wreckage of the Norwegian +barque to which he had belonged, and which had +been sunk by a U-boat an hour previously. The men +seemed to be very fond of him, and I overheard the +one who picked him up off the box to make a place +for me to sit on, whisper into his cocked ear that +they were going to try to catch a Hun in the next +day or two for him to sharpen his teeth on.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>These boys told me a number of stories in connection +with the survivors they had rescued, or +failed to rescue, from ships sunk by U-boats. Most +of them were the usual accounts of firing on open +boats in an attempt to sink without a trace, but +there was one piquant recital which revealed the +always diverting Hun sense of humour at a new +slant. This was displayed, as it chanced, on the +occasion of the sinking of “Ole’s” ship, the Norwegian +barque. After this unlucky craft had been put +down by shell-fire and bombs, the U-boat ran alongside<!-- Page 90 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +the whaler containing the captain and mate, +and they were ordered aboard to be interrogated. +Under the pretence of preventing any attempt to +escape on the part of the remainder of those in +this boat, the Germans made them clamber up and +stand on the narrow steel run-way which serves as +the upper deck of a submarine. No sooner were +they here, however, than the Hun humorist on the +bridge began slowly submerging. When the water +was lapping round the necks of the unfortunate +Norwegians, and just threatening to engulf them, +the nose of the U-boat was slanted up again, this +finely finessed operation being repeated during all +of the time that the captain and mate were being +pumped below by the commander of the submarine. +No great harm—save that one of the sailors, losing +his nerve when the U-boat started down the first +time, dived over, struck his head on one of the bow-rudders +and was drowned—was done by this little +pleasantry, but it is so illuminative of what the +Hun is in his lightsome moods that I have thought +it worth setting down.</p> + +<p>The American is more violent in his feelings than +the Briton, and much more inclined to say what he +thinks; and I found these boys—to use the expressive +phrase of one of them—“mad clean +through” at the Hun pirate and all he stands for. +America—with more time to do that sort of thing—has +undoubtedly gone farther than any other +country in the war in trying to give her soldiers +and sailors a proper idea of the beast they have<!-- Page 91 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +been sent out to slay. These lessons seem to have +sunk home with all of them, and when it has been +supplemented—as in the case of the sailors in the +destroyers—by the first-hand teachings of the Huns +themselves, it generally leaves a man in something +like the proper state of mind for the task in hand. +Not that I really think any of the Americans, when +they have the chance, as happens every now and +then, will carry out all the little plans they claim to +be maturing, but—well, if I was an exponent of the +U-boat branch of German kultur, and my <i>unterseeboot</i> +was depth-charged by a British and an American +destroyer, and I came sputtering up to the surface +midway between them, I don’t think I would +strike out for the lifebuoy trailing over the quarter +of the one flying the Stars and Stripes. I may be +wrong, but somehow I have the feeling that the +Briton—be he soldier, sailor, or civilian—hasn’t +quite the same capacity as the Yank for keeping up +the temperature of his passion, for feeling “mad +clean through.”</p> + +<p>Joining another group bunched in the lee of a +tier of meat-safes, I chanced upon a debate which +threw an illuminative beam on the feelings of what +might once have been classified as hyphenated +Americans. At first the whole six or eight of them, +in all harmony and unanimity, had been engaged +in cursing Sinn Feiners, with whom it appeared +they had been having considerable contact—physical<!-- Page 92 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +and otherwise—in the course of the last few +months. Then one of the more rabid of them on +this particular subject—he and one of his mates +had been waylaid and beaten by a dozen hulking +young Irishmen who resented the attentions the +Yankees were receiving from the local girls—threw +a bone of dissension into the ring by declaring that +a Sinn Feiner was as bad as a Hun and ought to +be treated the same way.</p> + +<p>The most of them could hardly bring themselves +to agree to this, but in the rather mixed argument +which followed it transpired that the lad who had +led the attack on Sinn Fein was named Morarity +and had been born in Cork, and that the one who +maintained that nothing on two legs, not even a +Sinn Feiner, was as “ornery as a Hun,” was +named Steinholz, and had been born in St. Louis +of German parents.</p> + +<p>The wherefore of this they explained to me +severally presently, when it turned out that their +views—as regards their duties as Americans—were +precisely similar. Like all good Yankees, they said, +they had it in for both the Hun and the Sinn +Feiner; but, because each of them had a <i>name</i> to +live down, he felt it incumbent on himself to out-strafe +his mates in the direction from which that +name came. It was a bit naïve, that confession, but +at the same time highly instructive; and I wouldn’t +care to be the Hun or Sinn Feiner that either of +those ex-hyphenates had a fair chance at.<!-- Page 93 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<p>A very domestic little party I found cuddled up +aft among the depth-charges. One lad—he had been +a freshman at Cornell, I learned later, and would +not wait to train for a commission, so keen had he +been to get into the war—was just back from a +week’s leave in London, and was telling about it +with much circumstance. There were many things +that had interested and amused him, but the great +experience had been three days spent as a guest in +an English home at Wimbledon. The head of the +family, it appeared, was some kind of a City man, +and, encountering the doubtless aimlessly wandering +Yank at Waterloo, had forthwith carried him +home. Everything had bristled with interest for +the young visitor, from the marmalade at breakfast +and the port at dinner to croquet on the lawn and +a punt on the Thames at Richmond. But the best +of it all had been that he had brought a standing +invitation from the same family to any of his mates +who might be coming up to London while the war +was on. During the refit, which was supposed to +be imminent, two of these, who had plumped for +the great London adventure, had screwed up their +courage to following up the invitation to the hospitable +home in question. Out of his broader experience, +their worldly mate was tipping them off +against possible breakers. This is the only one I +remember: “You’ll find,” he said, gesturing with +an admonitory finger that could just be dimly +guessed against the phosphorescence of the tossing<!-- Page 94 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +wake, “that they don’t seem to have any great +grudge ’gainst us for licking them and going on our +own in ’76; but go easy on rubbing it in just the +same, ’cause you’re a guest in the house. Best forget +the Revolution while you’re over here. That +scrap was more’n a hundred years ago, and we’ve +got another on now. Half the people you meet +here never heard of it, anyhow, and when you mention +it to them they think you refer to another +Revolution in France which came off about the +same time.”</p> + +<p>It was at about this juncture that a change of +course brought seas which had been quartering a +couple of points forward of the beam, and in a +jiffy the swift spurts of brine had searched out the +last dry corner of the deck and sent scurrying to +shelter every man who had not a watch to stand. +Three times I was completely drenched in groping +forward from the after-superstructure to the ward-room, +under the bridge, so that I was a good deal +inclined to take it as a joke—and a rather ill-timed +one at that—when an ensign about to turn in on +one of the transoms muttered something about +being thankful that we were going to have <i>one</i> +quiet night when a man could snatch a wink of +sleep. I asked him if he referred to the night we +expected to be in port waiting for the <i>Lymptania</i>, +but the fact that he had already dozed off proved +that he really had not been trying to be funny at +my expense. Indeed, it was a fairly quiet night, as<!-- Page 95 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +nights go in destroyers; but, even so, I needed a +good high sideboard to keep from rolling out of +the captain’s bunk, and then two sofa pillows and +my overcoat to keep from pulping my shoulder +against the sideboard.</p> + +<p>We were still sliding easily along at the same +comfortable umpteen knots in the morning, but +with the breaking of the new day a subtle change +had come over the spirit of the ship. It was just +such a change as one might observe in a hunter as +he passes from a plain, where there is little cover, +to a wood where every tree and bush may hide +potential quarry. And that, indeed, was precisely +the way it was with us. The night before we were +“on our way”; this morning we were ploughing +waters where U-boats were <i>known</i> to be operating. +It was only a couple of days previously that the +good old <i>Carpathia</i> had been put down, and not +many hours had passed since then but what brought +word, by one or another of the almost countless +ways that have been devised to trace them, of an +enemy submarine working in those waters. We +were ready enough the night before, ready for anything +that might have turned up; but this morning +we were more than that.</p> + +<p>There was a new tenseness now, and a feeling in +the air like that which follows the click-click after +a trigger is set to “hair.” It was as though everyone, +everything, even the good little <i>Zip</i> herself, +was crouched for a spring.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a name="PEEL" id="PEEL"><img src="images/illo04.jpg" alt="HELPING THE COOK TO PEEL POTATOES" + style="border:0" title="HELPING THE COOK TO PEEL POTATOES" + height="357" width="600" /></a> +</div> + +<h4>HELPING THE COOK TO PEEL POTATOES</h4> + +<p>There was an amusing little incident I chanced<!-- Page 96 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +to see which illustrates the keenness of the spirit +animating the men even in the moments of waiting. +A favourable course had left the deck unswept by +water for an hour, and a half-dozen boys, off watch, +but too restless to turn in, were trying to kill time +by helping the cook peel potatoes. It was one of +these whom I saw stand up, take several swift +strides forward across the reeling deck, draw a rag +from the pocket of his “jeans,” and then, with great +care and deliberation, begin to polish a patch of +steel plate that was exposed in the angle of two +strips of coco-matting. “Wha’ cher holystoning +deck yetawhile fer, Pete?” one of his mates shouted. +“Can’cher wait till we gets back to port? We may +have to foul your pretty work with greasy Huns +any minnit.” Unperturbed, Pete went right on +rubbing, testing the footing every now and then +with the sole of his boot. Only when the job, whatever +it was, was done to suit his fastidious taste +did he return to his seat on the reversed water-bucket +and start peeling potatoes again. Not till +a full dozen or more neatly skinned Murphies had +passed under his knife did he vouchsafe to reply to +the half-curious, half-pitying looks and remarks +his mates had continued to direct at him. Then +his explanation was as crushing as complete.</p> + +<p>“It don’t look much as if you guys wants to get +a Hun,” he observed finally, running a critical eye +over them. “Oh, you do, do you? My mistake.<!-- Page 97 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +Well, then, don’t try to be funny with another guy +that’s doing his best to effect that same good end. +Now looka here. From where I sits to my gun-station +is just six steps. Six for me, I mean; it’d +be more for most of you ‘shorties.’ Now I just +figures that step number four lands my foot square +in the dribble of oil on that patch where there ain’t +no matting; so what was more natural than for +me to go and swab it up. Last time the gong +binged I hit half a preserved peach, and sprained +a wrist and ankle so bad that I woulda been dead +slow on the gun if we’d had to fire it. Keeping my +eye peeled for another piece of peach, I pipes that +gob of oil, and so goes and gets rid of it. It’s painful +having to explain a simple thing like that to +you bone-heads, but, now that you got it, p’raps +you’ll ease off on your beefing, and peel spuds. +<i>That</i> don’t take no brains.”</p> + +<p>Two or three times in the course of the morning +the look-out’s shout of “Sail!” bearing this way or +that, brought those in sound of it to their feet in the +expectation that it would be followed by the welcome +clanging of the alarm bell; and once or twice +the wireless picked up the S.O.S.—they do not +send it out that way now, but these letters are still +the common term in use to describe the call of a +ship in distress—of a steamer that had been torpedoed. +But the sails turned out to be friends in +every case, while both of the ships reported sinking +were too far away for us to be of any use to them.<!-- Page 98 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +Early in the afternoon a suspiciously cruising +craft, which proved presently to be a friend, got a +high-explosive shell under her nose as a consequence +of her deliberation in revealing that fact. +The smartness with which the men tumbled to +quarters, and the almost uncanny speed with which +the forecastle gun was served, boded well for developments +in case the real thing turned up.</p> + +<p>“Do you always fire a blank across their bows +when you don’t quite like the look of ’em?” I +asked the captain innocently, as he gazed dejectedly +through his glass at certain unmistakable evidences +proving that he had been cheated of his quarry. +“Blank!” indignation and half the look that sits +on the face of a terrier who discovers that he has +cornered his own family’s “Tabby” instead of the +neighbour’s “Tom”; “blank!—did you ever see a +blank ‘X-point-X’ that threw up a spout as high +as a masthead, and all black with smoke? That +was the worst punisher we have in our lockers; +and, what’s more, it was meant to be a hit. And the +next one would have been,” he added. “You can’t +afford to waste any time where five or ten seconds +may make all the difference between bagging and +losing a Hun.”</p> + +<p>“But how about bagging something that isn’t +a Hun?” I protested. “I told you, I think, that +I had arranged to go out next week on patrol in +one of the American submarines; but after what +I’ve just seen——”<!-- Page 99 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<p>“The burden of proof is up to the craft under +suspicion,” cut in the captain, “and they ought to +have no trouble in supplying it if they have their +wits about them.” Then, with a grin, “But if +you’re really going out on submarine patrol next +week, why—I’ll promise to look twice before turning +loose one of those—those ‘blanks.’” How he +kept his word is another story.</p> + +<p>It was about an hour or two later that the wireless +winged word that seemed at last to herald the +real thing. It was the S.O.S. of a steamer, and +conveyed merely the information that she had just +been torpedoed, with her latitude and longitude. +The position given was only thirty or forty miles +to the northward, and though the name in the message—it +was <i>Namoura</i> or something similar—could +not be found on any of our shipping lists, +the <i>Zop</i>, as senior ship, promptly ordered course +altered and full speed made in the hope of arriving +on the scene in time to be of some use. With every +minute likely to be of crucial importance, it was +not an occasion to waste time by waiting or asking +for orders. A swift exchange of signals between +ships, a hurried order or two down a voice-pipe, an +advancing of the handle of the engine-room telegraph, +a throwing over of the wheel, and we had +spun in the welter of our tossing wake and were +off on a mission that might prove one of either +mercy or destruction, or, quite conceivably, both. +The formation in which we had been cruising when<!-- Page 100 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +the signal was received gave the <i>Zip</i> something like +a mile lead at the get-away, and this—though one +of the others was a newer and slightly faster ship—she +held gallantly to the end of the race. By a +lucky chance, though there was a snoring wind and +a lumpy sea running, the course brought both abaft +the beam and permitted us to run nearly “all out” +without imposing a serious strain on the ship. The +difference between running before and bucking into +seas of this kind I was to learn in a day or two. +For the moment, conditions were all that could be +asked to favour our getting with all dispatch into +whatever game there was to be played.</p> + +<p>Many a so-called express train has travelled +slower than any one of those three destroyers was +ploughing its way through solid green water. For +a few seconds after “Full speed!” had been rung +down to their engine-rooms, swift-spinning smoke +rings had shot up from their funnels and gone +reeling off down to leeward; then, with perfect +synchronisation of draught and oil, the duskiness +above the mouths of the stumpy stacks had cleared, +and only the mirage on the horizon astern betrayed +the up-spouting jets of hot gases. Only the vibrant +throb of the speeding engines—so pervading that +it seemed to pulse like heart-beats through the +very steel itself—gave hint of the mightiness of the +effort that speed was costing. With that throb +stilled—and the mounting wake quenched—the progress +of that thousand tons or so of steam-driven<!-- Page 101 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +steel would have seemed scarcely less effortless than +that of an aeroplane.</p> + +<p>An order from the Commander-in-Chief—which +was picked up presently—to go to the assistance of +the torpedoed ship and to “hunt submarine” had +been anticipated; but the real name of the steamer—finally +transmitted correctly—brought to me at +least a distinct shock. It was H.M.S. <i>Marmora</i>, +and the <i>Marmora</i>, the former P. & O. Australian +liner, was an old friend. To anyone who loves the +sea a ship, no matter of what kind, has a personality. +But in the case of a ship in which he has +sailed—lived in, worked and played in, been happy +in, perhaps gone through certain dangers in—has +more than a personality, it has a place in his heart. +Many and many a morning since the first U-boat +campaign was started I had read—and never without +a lump rising in my throat—of the passing of +just such a friend, of the going out of the world of +something—almost of “some one”—which I had +always looked forward to seeing again. <i>Afric</i>, +<i>Arabic</i>, <i>Aragon</i>, I knew their names well enough to +compile the list alphabetically. It would have run +to some score in length, and from every name would +have led a long train of treasured memories. But +the blow had never come quite this way before, +never fallen quite so near at home. An especially +dear friend had just been stricken less than a degree +of latitude away; but the poignancy of that +realisation was tempered by the thought that I was<!-- Page 102 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +in a ship rushing to her assistance, a ship that +could be as swift to succour as to avenge.</p> + +<p>I must confess to a queerly mixed state of mind +that next half-hour. Consumed as I was with interest +in our terribly purposeful progress leading +up to the entrance into that grim drama approaching +its climacteric act just beyond the sky-line, +there were also vivid flare-backs of memory to the +days of my friendship with the <i>Marmora</i>, arresting +flashlights of the swift refreshing morning dive +into the canvas pool on her forecastle, of lounging +chairs ranged in long rows ’twixt snowy decks and +awnings, of a phosphorescent bow-wave curling +back and blotting the reflections of stars in a +tropical sea. There was a picture of the clean +sweet lines of her as—buff, black, and beautiful—she +lay at the north end of the horseshoe of the +Circular Quay at Sydney, with a rakish Messageries +liner moored astern of her and a bluff +Norddeutscher Lloyd packet ahead. It was her +maiden voyage, and Australia, which had never +seen so swift and luxurious a liner before, was receiving +her like a newly arrived <i>prima donna</i>. I +took passage in her back as far as Colombo. That +fortnight’s voyage had been diverting in a number +of ways, I recalled, but most of all, perhaps, as a +consequence of the throwing together of a large +party of Wesleyan missionaries from Fiji and the +members of a London musical comedy company +returning from its Australian “triumphs.” I was<!-- Page 103 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +just beginning to chuckle inwardly at the recollection +of what one of the missionary ladies had said +to a buxom chorus-girl who tripped out to the +fancy dress cricket-match in her pink tights and a +ballet skirt, when the ting-a-ling of a bell brought +the captain to the radio-room voice-pipe. “Message +just received,” I heard him repeat. “All right. +Send it up.” He slapped down the voice-pipe cover, +and a messenger had handed him the signal before +he had paced twice across the bridge.</p> + +<p>“<i>Marmora</i> just sunk,” he read; “survivors +picked up by P.B.’s <i>X</i> and <i>Y</i>.”</p> + +<p>The sinking made no immediate change in our +plans. There was still a chance we might be of use +with the survivors, and also the matter of the U-boat +to be looked after. With no abatement of +speed, all three destroyers drove on. The navigating +officer reckoned that in another fifteen minutes +we should be sighting the rescuing craft, and +probably wreckage; but when twice that time still +left a clear horizon ahead, it began to appear as +though there had been a mistake of some kind. +And so there had, but it was a lucky mistake for +us. It was some time later before they figured just +how it had chanced, but what had happened was +this. The <i>Marmora’s</i> last despairing call—doubtless +sent out by a breaking-down radio—gave her +position as some ten or twelve miles out from what +it really was. The consequence was that, heading +somewhat wide of the sinking ship, to which, however,<!-- Page 104 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +on account of the presence of the patrol boats, +which had evidently been close enough to come to +her immediate assistance, we could have been of +small use, we had steered directly for the one point +where it was most desirable we should make our +appearance at that psychological moment: for the +point, in short, at which the coolly calculative +skipper of the U-boat responsible for the outrage, +after running submerged for an hour or more and +doubtless figuring he had come sufficiently far +from the madding crowd that would throng the +immediate vicinity of the wreckage to be at peace, +had come up to smoke his evening pipe and cogitate +upon the Freedom of the Seas.</p> + +<p>It was just as it began to become apparent that +we were badly adrift as regards the point where +the <i>Marmora</i> had gone down that a whine from the +lookout’s voice-pipe reported to the bridge that it +had sighted a “sail—port, ten.”</p> + +<p>“What is it?” asked back the captain.</p> + +<p>“Looks like subm’rine,” came the reply; and with +one quick movement the captain had started the +alarm-bell sounding “General quarters!” in every +part of the ship. With every man knowing precisely +what he had to do, and how to do it, there +was incredible speed without confusion. Tumbling +to their stations like hounds on a hot scent, they +yet managed to avoid getting in each other’s way, +even in the narrow passages and on the ladders. The<!-- Page 105 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +loom of the conning-tower was plain to the naked +eye, now that one knew where to look for it, but +only for a few minutes. Even as a swiftly passed +shell was thrown into the open breech of the forecastle +gun, came the look-out’s whine through the +voice-pipe, “She’s going down, sir; she’s gone!” +The breech of the gun spun shut, but the eye of the +sightsetter groped along an empty horizon.</p> + +<p>“Never mind,” muttered the captain grimly. +“Couldn’t have croaked him with one shot anyhow. +Got something better’n shells for him. Now +for it,” and his hand went back to pull the wire of +a gong which gave certain orders to the men standing-by +with the depth-charges. That, a word down +the engine-room voice-pipe, and a fraction of a +point’s alteration in the course—and there was only +one thing left to be done. The time for that had +not quite arrived.</p> + +<p>Because a destroyer’s engine-room telegraph-hand +points to “Full speed!” it does not necessarily +mean that there are not ways of forcing more revolutions +from the engines, of driving her still faster +through the water should the need arise. Such a +need now confronted the <i>Zip</i>, and, like the thoroughbred +she was, her response was instant and +generous. The pulsing throb of her quickened till +it was almost a hum; the quivering insistency of it +struck straight to the marrow of the bones, +drummed in the depths of one’s innermost being.<!-- Page 106 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +If there is anything to stir the blood of a man like +a destroyer beginning to see red and go Berserk, +I have yet to encounter it.</p> + +<p>There must have been something like three miles +to go from the point where the U-boat had been +sighted to the point where the inevitable patch of +grease would mark the place where it had submerged, +and rather less than twice that many +minutes had elapsed when the cry of “Oil slick—starboard +bow!” came almost simultaneously from +the look-outs in the foretop and on the bridge. +Over went the helm a spoke or two, and the executive +officer, in his hand a thin piece of board with a +table of figures pasted on it, moved up beside the +captain. Straight down the wobbly track of iridescent +film drove the <i>Zip</i>, and when a certain length +of it had been put astern, the captain turned and +drew a lever to him with a sharp pull.</p> + +<p>Three, four seconds passed, and then, simultaneously +with a heavy knocking thud, a round +patch of water a hundred yards or so astern quivered +and fizzed up sharply like the surface of a +glass of whisky-and-soda after the siphon has +ceased to play on it. Following that by a second or +two, a smooth rounded geyser of foam boiled up a +dozen feet or so, and then gradually subsided. +That one, plainly, was a deep-set charge, whose force +was expended far beneath the surface. A second +one threw a geyser twice as high as the first, and a +third, which fizzed and spouted almost simultaneously,<!-- Page 107 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +blotted out a great patch of sternward sky +with its smoke-shot eruption.</p> + +<p>Presently the <i>Zop</i> “struck oil,” and then the <i>Zap</i>. +Soon the muffled booms of their rapidly scuttled +depth-charges began to drum, while astern of them +the foam-spouts nicked the sky-line like a stubby +picket fence.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the lad whom I later overheard describing +that bombardment by saying that “’tween +the three of us, we was scattering ‘cans’ like rice +at a wedding” was guilty of some exaggeration; +but it is a fact that they were spilling over very +fast and, there is little doubt, with telling effect. +The savageness of the bolts of wrath released by +the exploding charges was strikingly disclosed when +two of them chanced to be dropped at nearly the +same time by destroyers a mile or more apart, when +the under-sea “jolts” would meet half-way and +form weird evanescent “rips” of dancing froth +strongly suggestive of chain-lightning. The way in +which even the most distant of the detonations +made a destroyer “bump the bumps,” quite as +though it was striking a series of solid obstructions, +gave some hints of the bolts that were descending +upon the lurking pirate.</p> + +<p>At the end of a minute or two a quick order from +the captain sent the wheel spinning over, and, with +raucous grinding of helm, round we swung through +sixteen points to head back in reverse over the path +of destruction we had just traversed. Just as the<!-- Page 108 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +steel runners of a racing skater throw ice when he +makes a sudden turn, so the screws of a speeding +destroyer hurl water. The stern sank deep into +the propeller-scooped void, so that the high-tossed +side-slipping wake buried it beneath a frothing +flood. Through several long seconds I saw the +water boiling above the waists of the men at the +depth-charges, without appearing to disturb them +in the least; then the wheel was spun back ’midships—and +a spoke or two beyond to meet and +steady her—the bow wave resumed its curled +symmetry and the wake began trailing off astern +again.</p> + +<p>It was into a peaceful sea, indolently rolling, +sunset tinged and slightly sleeked with a thin +streak of oil, that we had raced five minutes before; +it was a troubled sea, charge-churned and wave-slashed, +that we now nosed back into to see what +good our coming had wrought. The grey-blue-black +of the long oil wake had been scattered into broken +patches by the explosions. Most of these were pale, +sickly, and highly anæmic in colour, and of scant +promise; but for one, where fresh oil rising spread +rainbow-bright upon the surface, the <i>Zip</i> headed +full tilt. The explosion here appeared to have been +an unusually heavy one, for the sea was dotted with +the white bellies of stunned fish, most of them floating +high out of the water, with trickles of blood +running from their upturned mouths and distended<!-- Page 109 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +gills. A six or eight-foot shark, wriggling drunkenly +along the surface with a broken back, was +hailed with a howl of delight by the men, who +claimed to see in the fact that the unlucky monster +could not submerge his telltale dorsal, a sign that +their Fritz might be in the same difficulty.</p> + +<p>Another “can” or two was let go as we dashed +through that iridescent “fount of promise”; and +when we turned back to it again the wounded shark +had ceased to wriggle and now floated inertly +among his hapless brothers. But of Fritz—save +for a glad new gush of oil—no sign. Prisoners or +wreckage are rated as the only indubitable evidence +of the destruction of a U-boat, and neither of these +were we able to woo to the surface in that busy hour +which elapsed before the descending pall of darkness +put a period to our well-meant efforts. During +that time not the most delicate instrument devised +by science for that purpose revealed any +indication of life or movement in the depths below. +As the water at this point was far too deep to allow +a submarine to descend and lie on the bottom without +being crushed, this fact appeared morally conclusive. +It was this I had in mind when I tried to +draw the captain out on the subject. “Of course +there’s no doubt we bagged him?” I hazarded, in +a quiet interval when we were watchfully waiting +for something to turn up, or rather come up. He +smiled a rather tired smile. “Oh, very likely we<!-- Page 110 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +have,” he replied. “But, unluckily, there’s nothing +we can lay our hands on to carry away and +prove it. In case this particular Fritz doesn’t come +to life and sink another ship in the course of the +next few days, there is just a chance that we may +be credited with a ‘Possible.’ They never err on +the optimistic side in sizing up a little brush of +this kind, and perhaps it’s just as well. Anyhow, +a game like this is worth playing on its own +account, whether you come in with a scalp at your +belt every time or not.”</p> + +<p>It was just as darkness was slowing down our +anti-U-boat operations, that a signal came through +stating that there were believed to be several survivors +still alive among the wreckage of the <i>Marmora</i>, +and ordering us to proceed to the scene of +her sinking with all dispatch. The moon was rising +as we began to nose among the pathetic litter +of scraps that was all that remained afloat of what, +five or six hours previously, had been a swift and +beautiful auxiliary cruiser.</p> + +<p>There was enough light for us to be reasonably +sure, at the end of an hour’s search, that our mission +was in vain; that there remained no living man +to pick up. There was something strangely +familiar, though, in the lines of a cutter which, in +spite of a smashed gunwale, was still afloat, and I +was just thinking of how grateful a lee, in the monsoon, +the windward side of the old <i>Marmora’s</i> lifeboats +had furnished for a deck-chair or two, when<!-- Page 111 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +the captain, advancing the handle of the engine-room +telegraph, turned to me with: “We’re off to +rendezvous with the <i>Lymptania</i> now; I think we +can promise you some real excitement in the course +of the next day or two.”</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><!-- Page 112 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THE CONVOY GAME</h3> + + +<p>The fantastic pile of multi-coloured slabs blotting +out a broken patch of sky above the seaward +end of the estuary, if it had been on +land, might have been anything from a row of +hangars, viewed in slant perspective, to the scaffolding +of a scenic railway, or a “Goblin’s Castle” in +Luna Park. But there in the middle of the channel, +the mountainous bulk could only be one thing, +the <i>Lymptania</i>, the ship which our division of +American destroyers had been ordered to escort on +that part of its westbound voyage in which there +was reckoned to be danger of submarine attack. +Distorted by the camouflage, the tumbled mass of +jumbled colours continued to loom in jagged indefinitiveness +as we closed it from astern, and it +was only when we had come up well abreast of it +that the parts settled down into “ship-shapeliness,” +and the silhouette of perhaps the most +famous of the world’s great steamers sharpened +against the sunlit afternoon clouds.</p> + +<p>The change which had been wrought in the appearance +of the <i>Lymptania</i> since last I had seen +her was almost beyond belief. Then she had been<!-- Page 113 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +a hospital ship, with everything about her, from +snowy whiteness to red crosses in paint and coloured +lights, calculated to establish her character, +to give her the protection of conspicuousness. Now +she sought protection in quite the opposite way. +Every trick of scientific camouflage had been employed +to render her inconspicuous; while, if that +failed, there were the destroyers. The protection +of these big liners is a considerable undertaking, +but it has its redeeming features. As U-boat bait +they are unrivalled, and the number of German +submarines which have been sent to the bottom as +a direct consequence of attempting to sink one of +them will make a long and interesting list when the +time comes to publish it.</p> + +<p>There was something almost awesome in the +emptiness of the great ship, in the lifelessness of +the decks, in the miles of blinded ports. The heads +of a few sailors “snugging down” on the forecastle, +a knot of officers at the end of the bridge, +and two stewardesses in white uniforms leaning +over the rail of one of the upper decks—that was all +there was visible of human life on a ship which a +few days before had been packed to the funnels +with its thousands of American soldiers. A lanky +destroyer gunner lounging by a ladder, described +her exactly when he said to one of his mates: “Gee, +but ain’t she the lonesome one!”</p> + +<p>The captain of the <i>Zip</i> turned his glasses back +to cover the little group of officers on the liner’s<!-- Page 114 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +bridge. “There’s the skipper,” he said presently. +“I only hope he’s well ahead of the game on the +sleeps, for I wouldn’t mind betting that he won’t +be leaving that bridge for a cup of coffee for some +time. It’s going to be an anxious interval for him—very +anxious. It’s quite beyond calculation, the +value to the Allies at this moment of a ship of the +size and speed of the <i>Lymptania</i>, and her skipper +must know from what has happened the last week, +that the Huns are all out to bag her this time, and +he can hardly be able to extract any too much comfort +out of the fact that it’s about a hundred to one +that we’ll bag the Fritz that tries it—either before +or after the event. Yes, it will be an anxious time +for him—but,” a grimly wry smile coming to his +face as he turned his eyes to the opening seaward +horizon, “even so, it’ll be nothing to the time we’re +in for in the <i>Zip</i> and all the rest of the escort. <i>He’ll</i> +be able to sleep if he happens to take a notion to; +<i>we</i> won’t, at least, not during the time we’ve got +<i>her</i> to shepherd. Again, he’s only got the <i>chance</i> +of being hit by a torpedo to worry about; we’ve +got the <i>certainty</i> of being hit by head-seas that have +as much kick in them to a driven destroyer as a +tin-fish full of gun-cotton. Unless the weather gets +either a good deal better or a shade worse, we’re +sure up against the real thing this time.</p> + +<p>“The fact is,” continued the captain, taking up +the slack in the hood of his weather-proof jacket as +a slight alteration of course brought a new slant<!-- Page 115 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +of wind; “the fact is, I’d much rather see it get +worse than better. If it would only kick up enough +sea so that there was no chance of a submarine +operating in it, she could drive right along on her +own without any need of destroyers. But so long +as we’ve this weather there’s a possibility of a torpedo +running in, we’ve got to hang on to the last +shiver, and there are two or three things which are +going to make ‘hanging on’ this particular trip +just a few degrees worse than anything we’ve +stacked up against before. This is about the way +things stand: The <i>Lymptania’s</i> best protection is +her speed; but while she is just about the fastest +of the big ships, she is also just about the biggest +of the fast ships. This means that the size of the +target she presents goes a long way toward offsetting +the advantage of her speed; so that the +presence of destroyers—in any kind of weather a +submarine can work in—is very desirable, and may +be vital.</p> + +<p>“Now the escorting of any steamer that makes +over twenty knots an hour is a lively piece of business, +no matter what the weather, for destroyers, +to screen most effectively, should zigzag a good +deal more sharply than their convoy, and that, of +course, calls for several knots more speed. This +can be managed all right in fair weather, or even +in rough, where there is only a following or a beam +sea; but where the seas come banging down from +more than a point or two for’ard of the beam it is<!-- Page 116 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +quite a different matter. In that event, the speed +of the whole procession depends entirely on how +much the destroyers can stand without being reduced +to scrap-iron. Naturally, the ship under +escort endeavours to make her speed conform to the +best the destroyers can do under the circumstances; +but since an extra knot or two an hour might well +make all the difference in avoiding a submarine +attack, the tendency always is to keep the escorting +craft extended to just about their limit of endurance.</p> + +<p>“Just how the mean will be struck between what +a fast steamer thinks its escorting destroyers <i>ought</i> +to stand, and what the destroyers really <i>can</i> stand, +depends upon several things. Perhaps the principal +factor is the state of mind of the skipper of +the steamer, and that, in turn, is influenced by the +value of his ship—both actual and potential—and +the danger of submarine attack at that particular +time in the waters under traverse. When the destroyers +set out to escort a very fast and valuable +ship, steering into heavy head seas in waters where +there are known to be a number of U-boats operating, +they’ve got the whole combination working +against them, and the result is—just what you’re +slated to see this trip. Best take a good look at the +<i>Zip</i> while you’ve got a chance; she may be quite a +bit altered by the time we get back to port again. +And you might take a squint at the <i>Flossie</i> over +there, too. She’s our latest and swiftest, the<!-- Page 117 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +Fotilla’s pride. But this is her first experience of +taking out an ex-ocean greyhound, and if, in a +burst of fresh enthusiasm, she chances to tap any +of these several extra knots of speed she is supposed +to have—well, the <i>Flossie’s</i> sky-line in that +case will be modified more than those of all the +rest of her older and wiser sisters put together.”</p> + +<p>Those were prophetic words.</p> + +<p>“The one thing that makes it certain that we’ll +be put to the limit to-night,” resumed the captain, +after he had rung up more speed on our coming out +into opener water, “is the news in this morning’s +official announcement of the sinking of the <i>Justicia</i>. +We seem just to have struck the peak of the midsummer +U-boat campaign. It was scarcely a week +ago that they got the <i>Carpathian</i>. Then, a few +days later, came the <i>Marmora</i> (you won’t forget +for a while the strafe we had at the U-boat which +put her down), and now it’s the <i>Justicia</i>, the biggest +ship they’ve sunk in a year or so. That’s the +thing that must be worrying the skipper of the +<i>Lymptania</i>, for it shows they’re after the great +troop-carriers. The way they stuck to the <i>Justicia</i> +proves they’re not yet beyond taking some risk if +the stake is high enough. Now and then some +Fritz is found desperate enough to commit hari-kari +by coming up close (if the chance offers) and +making sure of getting his torpedo home. He gets +what’s coming to him, of course, but there is also +a fair chance of his getting the ship he is after; and<!-- Page 118 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +a fast liner for a U-boat is a poor exchange—from +our standpoint. Naturally, these things all make +the skipper of the <i>Lymptania</i> anxious to minimise +his risks by hitting up just as hot a pace as he can, +and that, with her size and her power, will be just +about full speed. I can’t tell you to a knot how fast +that is, but I can tell you this: if you were on the +bridge of a destroyer going at that speed when it +hit a good heavy head-sea, the only thing that would +tell you it wasn’t a brick wall she had collided with +would be the sort of moist feeling about the pile-driver +that knocked you over the side. So it looks +like the rub is going to come in getting the <i>Lymptania</i> +to content herself with a speed at which—well, +at which you can detect some slight difference +between a head-sea and a brick wall from the bridge +of the destroyer doing the butting. Whatever that +proves to be, you’ll have such a chance as you may +never get again to see what stuff your Uncle Sam’s +destroyers are made of.”</p> + +<p>We made screening formation as soon as we were +well clear of the barraged waters of the estuary, +though the sea we had to traverse before entering +the open Atlantic was considered practically +empty of menace. The <i>Lymptania</i>, making astonishingly +little smoke for a coal-burner, worked up +to somewhere near her top speed in a very short +time; but, with the light-running seas well abaft +the beam, the destroyers cut their zigzags round +and about her with many knots in reserve. The big<!-- Page 119 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +liner, with much experience to her credit, knew +precisely what to do and how to do it, and the +whole machine of the convoy worked as though +pulled by a single string. Her very movements +themselves seemed to give the various units of the +escort their cues, for, though she steered a course +so devious and irregular that no submarine could +have possibly told how to head in order to waylay +her, she was never “uncovered.” Ahead and +abreast of her, going their own way individually, +but still conforming their general movements to +hers, the destroyers wove their practically impenetrable +screen.</p> + +<p>Whatever there was ahead, it was ideal destroyer +weather for the moment, and all hands came +swarming out on the dry sun-warmed deck to make +the most of it while it lasted. An importunate +whine from a nest of arms and legs sprawling +abreast the midships torpedo-tubes attracted my +attention for a moment as I sauntered aft to see +what was afoot, and presently the rattle of dice on +the deck and an imploring “Come on, you Seven!” +told me they were “shooting Craps,” with, I +shortly discovered, bars of milk chocolate and +sticks of chewing-gum for stakes. Several others +were playing “High, Low, Jack,” and here and +there—using elbows and knees to keep the bellying +pages from blowing away—were little knots clustered +about the latest Sunday Supplement from +New York.<!-- Page 120 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> + +<p>But quite the best thing of all was two brown-armed +youngsters going through a proper battery +warming-up with a real baseball. I had seen enthusiasts +on two or three of the American units with +the Grand Fleet playing catch right up to the +moment “General Quarters” was sounded for target +practice; but that was on the broad decks of +battleships, with some chance of saving a ball that +chanced to be muffed. But here the pitcher had to +wind-up with a sort of a corkscrew stoop to keep +from hitting his hand against a stay, while the +catcher braced himself with one foot against a +depth-charge and the other against the mounting +of the after-gun. There were four or five things +that the ball had to clear by less than a foot in its +flight from one to the other, but the only ones of +these I recall now are a searchlight diaphragm and +a gong which sounded from the bridge a standby +signal to the men at the depth-charges. I actually +saw that skilfully directed spheroid make two complete +round-trips, from the pitcher to the catcher +and back, before it struck the gong a resonant bing! +caromed against the side of an out-slung boat and +disappeared into the froth of the wake.</p> + +<p>The pitcher and catcher were in a hot argument +as to whether that was the twenty-sixth or the +twenty-seventh ball they had lost overboard since +the first of the month, but they fell quiet and +turned sympathetic ears to my description of a net<!-- Page 121 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +I had seen rigged on one of the American battleships +to prevent that very trouble.</p> + +<p>“Nifty enough,” was the pitcher’s comment when +I had finished describing how the net was drawn +taut right under the stern to prevent all leakage. +“Only thing is, the captain might rule it off on the +score that it’d catch the ‘cans’ we was trying to +drop on Fritz as well as the ‘wild pitches.’ Might +do for harbour use, though. Lost balls is a considerable +drain even there.”</p> + +<p>It was just before dinner-time that the lengthening +life of the seas gave warning that we were coming +out into the Atlantic. The force of them was +still abaft the beam, however, and their principal +effect was to add a few degrees of roll, with an +occasional deluge dashing in admonitory flood +across the decks. But it was enough to make the +Ward Room untenable, so that dinner had to be +wolfed propped up on the transoms, one nicely balanced +dish at a time. There would be about an +hour more of this comparative comfort, the captain +said, before we reached a position where the full +force of the seas would be felt, but things would not +really “begin to drop” till the <i>Lymptania</i> altered +course and headed westerly. “If you have any +writing, reading, sleeping, or anything except just +existing to do,” he warned, as he kept his soup from +overflowing by an undulant gesture of the hand +which poised it, “better do it now. It’s your last +chance.”<!-- Page 122 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> + +<p>The forty winks I managed to snatch as a result +of following up the sleeping part of that recommendation +stood me in good stead in the times +ahead. It took no little composing to doze off even +as it was, and it was the sharp bang my head got +from the siderail of my bunk that put a period to +the nap I did get. The rolling had increased enormously, +and though it was apparent we were not yet +bucking into it, the swishing of the water on the +forecastle overhead indicated that there had been +enough alteration of course to bring the seas—on +one leg of the zigzags at least—well forward of the +beam. I climbed out, pulled on my weather-proof +suit and sea-boots, and clambered up to the bridge.</p> + +<p>There were still a couple of hours to go before +dark, and in the diffused light of a bright bank of +sunset clouds the gay dazzle colours of all the ships +showed up brilliantly as they ploughed the whitecap-plumed +surface of a sea which now stretched +unbrokenly to the westward horizon. There was a +world of power behind the belligerent bulk of swells +which had been gathering force under the urge of a +west-nor’-west wind that had chased them all the +way from Labrador, and the destroyers, teetering +quarteringly along their foam-crested tops, were +rolling drunkenly and yawing viciously ahead of +jagged wakes.</p> + +<p>Still driving on at express speed, however, they +continued to maintain perfect formation on the +swiftly steaming <i>Lymptania</i>. The latter, apparently<!-- Page 123 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +as steady as though “chocked up” in a dry-dock, +drove serenely on in great swinging +zigzags.</p> + +<p>The captain came up from the chart-room and +took a long look around. “It’s just about as I expected,” +he said, shaking his head dubiously. “It +isn’t so rough but what a submarine might stage an +attack if her skipper had the nerve; and it’s a darn +sight too rough for destroyers to screen the <i>Lymptania</i> +with her holding to anything like full speed. +It’s all up now to <i>what</i> speed she will try to hold +us to.”</p> + +<p>“But what’s the matter with this?” I protested. +“We’re still hitting the high places for speed, and, +while I wouldn’t call this exactly comfortable, we +still seem to be making pretty good weather of it.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a name="LINER" id="LINER"><img src="images/illo05.jpg" + alt="WHERE THE GREAT LINER PLOWED ALONG" style="border:0" + title="WHERE THE GREAT LINER PLOWED ALONG" + height="341" width="600" /></a> +</div> +<h4>WHERE THE GREAT LINER PLOWED ALONG</h4> + +<p>The captain smiled indulgently. “You’re right,” +he said, “as far as you go. We are indeed hitting +the high places, but—the high places haven’t +started hitting us yet. Wait just about five or ten +minutes,” he added, turning his glasses to where +the great liner, silhouetted for the moment against +the sunset clouds, ploughed along on our port beam, +“and you’ll see the difference. Ah!” this as he +steadied his glasses on where the boiling wake of +the <i>Lymptania</i>, beginning to bend away in a sharp +curve indicating a considerable alteration of course. +“There she goes now. Hold tight!”</p> + +<p>With his hand on the engine-room telegraph, the +captain gave the men at the wheel a course to conform<!-- Page 124 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +to that of the <i>Lymptania</i>. Quick as a cat on +her helm, the <i>Zip</i> swung swiftly through eight +points and plunged ahead. This brought on her +bows seas that had been rolling up abeam, and we +were up against the real thing at last.</p> + +<p>The first sea, which she caught while she was +still turning, the <i>Zip</i> contented herself with slicing +off the truculently-tossing top of before crunching +it underfoot. It was a smartly-executed performance, +and seemed to promise encouragingly as to +the way she might be expected to dispose of the +next ones. The second in line, however, which she +met head-on and essayed the same tactics with, +dampened her ardour—and just about everything +and everybody else below the foretop—by detaching +a few tons of its bumptious bulk and raking her +fore-and-aft with its rumbling green-white flood. +The bridge was above the main weight of that blow, +but ’midships and aft I saw men bracing themselves +against a knee-deep stream. One bareheaded +and bare-armed man, who had evidently been surprised +in making his way from one hatch to +another, I saw rolled fifteen or twenty feet and +slammed up against the torpedo-tube which prevented +his going overboard. He limped out of +sight, rubbing his shoulder, and probably never +knew how lucky he was in being caught by <i>that</i> +wave instead of one which came along a minute +later.</p> + +<p>The slams which she received from the next two<!-- Page 125 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +or three seas left the <i>Zip</i> in a somewhat chastened +mood, and rather less sanguine respecting her +ability to go on pulling off that little stunt of surmounting +waves by biting them in the neck and +then trampling their bodies under foot. She was +beginning to realise that she had a body of her +own, and that there was something else around that +could bite—yes, and kick, and gouge, and punch +below the belt, and do all the other low-down tricks +of the underhand fighter.</p> + +<p>Languid and uncertain of movement, like a dazed +prize-fighter, she was just steadying herself from +the jolt a bustling brute of a comber had dealt her +in passing, when the skyline ahead was blotted out +by the imminent green-black loom of a running wall +of water which, from its height and steepness, +might well have been kicked up by a Valparaiso +“Norther” or a South Sea hurricane.</p> + +<p>It may have been the chastened state of mind the +last sea had left her in which was responsible for +<i>Zip’s</i> deciding to take this one “lying down”; or +again, it may be that she was acting, in reverse, +after the example set by the rabbit who, because he +couldn’t go under the hill, went over it. At any +rate, after one shuddering look at the mountainous +menace tottering above her bows, she made up her +mind that she was better off under the sea than on +the surface, and deliberately dived. Of course, it +was the Parthian kick the last sea had given her +stern that was really responsible for her bows<!-- Page 126 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +starting to go down at the very instant those of +every other ship that one had had experience of +would have been beginning to point skyward, but +to all intents and purposes she looked, from the +bridge, to be submerging of her own free and considered +decision. The principal thing which +differentiated it from the ordinary dive of a submarine +was the fact that it was made at a sharper +angle and at about four times the speed.</p> + +<p>There was something almost uncanny in the +quietness with which that plunge began; though, on +the latter score, there was nothing to complain of +by about half a second later. I have seen at one +time or another almost every conceivable kind of +craft, from a Fijian war canoe to the latest battlecruiser, +trying to buck head seas, and invariably +the wave that swept it had the decency to announce +its coming by a warning knock on the +bows. This time there was nothing of the kind. +The retreating sea had lifted her stern so high that +the forecastle was under water even before the coming +one had begun to topple over on to it. The +consequence was that there was no preliminary +bang to herald the onrush of the latter.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a name="BRICKWALL" id="BRICKWALL"><img src="images/illo06.jpg" + alt="WE HAD COLLIDED WITH THE BRICK WALL" style="border:0" + title="WE HAD COLLIDED WITH THE BRICK WALL" + height="323" width="600" /></a> +</div> +<h4>WE HAD COLLIDED WITH THE “BRICK WALL”</h4> + +<p>The base of the mountainous roller simply +flooded up over the diving forecastle and crashed +with unbroken force against the bridge. We had +collided with the “brick wall” right enough, and +for the next few seconds at least the result was +primal chaos.<!-- Page 127 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + +<p>I have a vivid but detached recollection of two +or three things in the instant that the blow impended. +One is of the helmsman, crouching low, +with legs wide apart, locking his arms through the +slender steel spokes of the wheel the better to +steady her in the coming smash. Another is of the +captain, with hunched shoulders and set jaw, throwing +over the telegraph to stop the engines. But +the clearest picture of all is of the submarine lookout +on the port side—a black-eyed, black-haired boy +with a profile that might have been copied from an +old Roman coin—who was leaning out and grinning +sardonically into the very teeth of the descending +hydraulic ram. It was his savagely-flung anatomy, +I believe, though I never made sure, which bumped +me in the region of the solar plexus a moment later +and broke my slipping hold on the buckling stanchion +to which I was trying to cling.</p> + +<p>There was nothing whatever suggestive of water—soft, +fluent, trickling water—in the first shattering +impact of that mighty blow. It was as solid +as a collision between ship and ship; indeed, the +recollection I have of a railway wreck I was once +in on a line in the Argentine Pampas is of a shock +less shattering. It is difficult to record events in +their proper sequence, partly because they were all +happening at once, and partly because the self-centred +frame of mind I was in at the moment was +not favourable for detached observation. The +noise and the jar of the crash were stupendous, yet<!-- Page 128 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +neither of these has left so vivid a mental impression +as the uncanny writhing of the two-inches-thick +steel stanchion to which I was endeavouring +to hold, and the nerve-racking sound of rending +metal. I have no recollection of hearing the clink +of broken glass, nor of being struck by pieces of +it; yet all the panes of heavy plate which screened +the forward end of the bridge—of a thickness, one +had supposed, to withstand anything likely to assail +them—were swept away as though they had been no +more than the rice-paper squares of a Japanese +window.</p> + +<p>The rush of water, of course, followed instantly +upon the crash, yet, so vivid are my impressions of +the things intimately connected with the blow itself +that it seems as though there was an appreciable +interval between the fall of that and the time when +the enveloping cataclysm transformed the universe +into a green-white stream of brine. From ahead, +above and from both sides the flood poured, to meet +and mingle in a whirling maelstrom in the middle +of the bridge. There was nothing of blown spindrift +to it; it was green and solid and flowed with a +heave and a hurl that made no more of slamming a +man to the deck than of tossing a life-buoy. I went +the whole length of the bridge when I lost my grip +on the port stanchion, brought up against the after-rail, +and then went down into a tangle of signal +flags. I remember distinctly, though, that the walls +of water rushing by completely blotted out sea and +sky to port and starboard, and that there was all<!-- Page 129 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +the darkness of late twilight in the cavern of the +engulfed bridge. Then the great sea tumbled aft +along the main deck, and it grew light again.</p> + +<p>The captain and the helmsman had both kept +their feet, and the latter, dripping from head to +heel, was just throwing over the engine-room telegraph +as I shook off my mantle of coloured bunting +and crawled back to my moorings at the stanchion. +Immediately afterwards I saw him jump on to the +after-rail and make some sort of negative signal to +a couple of half-drowned boys who, waist-deep in +swirling water, were pawing desperately among the +depth-charges. Then he came over and joined me +for a few moments.</p> + +<p>“Some sea, that,” he said, slipping down his +hood and throwing back the brine-dripping hair +from his forehead. “It’s happened before, but +never like that. Lord only knows what it’s done to +her. S’pose we’ll begin to hear of that in a minute.” +He pointed to a string of porcelain insulators +dangling at the end of twisted bits of wire in front +of one of the paneless windows. “That’s the remains +of our auxiliary radio,” he said, grinning; +“and look at the fo’c’sle. Swept clean, pretty near. +Thank heaven, the gun’s left. But, do you remember +that heavy iron bar the muzzle rested on? +Gone! It was probably that, with some of the +shells in the rack, that made all that rat-a-tat. But +what of it? Look how she rides ’em now that she’s<!-- Page 130 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +eased down a bit. Only trouble is, she’s got to go +it again. Look how we’ve dropped back.” And +he gave the engine-room, by voice-pipe, a new +“standard” speed, and threw the telegraph over +to “Full.”</p> + +<p>The pulsing throb began anew, and under the +urge of speeding propellers the <i>Zip</i>, steering in narrowed +zig-zags quickly regained her station. All of +the destroyers, and the <i>Lymptania</i> as well, had +eased down slightly, and the reduced speed meant +also a reduction of the danger of another of those +deep-sea dives, something no craft but a submarine +is built to stand the strain of. But even as it was +we were driving right up to the limit of endurance +all the time, and the sea that did not come rolling +up green right over the bows was the exception +rather than the rule. From the forecastle right +away aft there was never more than a few seconds +at a time when the main deck was free of rollicking +cascades of boiling brine, and there were moments +when only the funnels and the after superstructure, +rearing up like isolated rocks on a storm-beaten +coast, were visible above the swirling flood. There +were times when the men standing-by at the guns +and torpedo-tubes seemed almost to be engulfed; +yet none of them was swept away, and they even—from +the way they kept joking each other in the +lulls—appeared to be getting a good deal of sport +out of the thing.</p> + +<p>The barometer was falling, and both wind and<!-- Page 131 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +waves gained steadily in force as the afternoon +lengthened and merged into a twilight that was +itself already melting before the rising moon. +Clouds were few and scattering, and it was plain +there were to be no hours dark enough to offer any +protection from submarine attack. Looming as +large as ever, the big liner offered scarcely a better +target on the side she was illuminated by the moonlight +than on the one from which she was silhouetted +against it. From either side a fifth of a mile +of steel would “take a lot of missing,” and her +captain, sensibly enough, would not ease his engines +by a revolution more than was necessary to +keep within his destroyer screen. It was plainly +up to the destroyers to stick it to the limit, and +that is just what they did. As I heard one of the +men put it, it was the “bruisiest” bit of escort-work +they had ever been—or probably ever will be—called +upon to face, but every one of those Yankee +destroyers stayed with it to the finish.</p> + +<p>Now it would be the <i>Zop</i> that would emerge +from under a mountainous sea and come drifting +back without steerage weigh, rolling drunkenly in +the trough, and now it would be the <i>Zap</i>. And +now this or that result of a “hydraulic ramming” +would disable one of the others temporarily. But, +game to the last flake of brine-frosted camouflage, +back they came to it again, and again, and yet +again. Sunrise of the next day found them plugging +on in station, and in station they remained<!-- Page 132 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +until the <i>Lymptania</i>, beyond the zone of all possible +submarine danger, made a general signal of +“Thank you,” and headed off to the westward on +her own.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Out of the dim grey dawn of the morning after +the night before, battered and buckled, but still unbroken, +the wearily waggling line of the <i>Lymptania’s</i> +late escort trailed back into harbour. The +mussed-up silhouette of every one of them bore +mute testimony to the way she had been put +“through the mill,” and, in most cases, the things +that met the eye were not the worst. The <i>Zop</i> +needed every yard of the channel as she zig-zagged +up it under a jury steering-gear, and the <i>Zap</i>, like +a man dazed from a blow, would have sudden +“mental hiati” in which she would straggle carelessly +out of line with an inconsequential going-to-pick-flowers-by-the-roadside +sort of air. The <i>Zim’s</i> +idiosyncrasies had more of an epileptic suddenness +about them, and her hectic coughing plainly indicated +some kind of “lung trouble.” Our little +<i>Zip</i> presented a very brave front to the outer world, +but I heard hollow clankings punctuating the erstwhile +even hum of the engines, while the drip, drip, +drip and the drop, drop, drop through the crinkled +sheet-steel sheathing of my cabin told that the deck-plates +of the forecastle fitted a good deal less +snugly than before they had played anvil to the +lusty head-sea hammer.<!-- Page 133 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> + +<p>But the <i>Flossie</i>, the “latest, the swiftest, the +flotilla’s pride”—the wounds of all the rest of us +put together were as nothing to those of the <i>Flossie</i>. +In trying to maintain her pride of place at the +head of the escort, she <i>had</i>, for a brief space, unleashed +those extra knots of speed the captain had +spoken of, and all that, and even more than, he +had prophesied had come to pass. It was just such +a swaggerer of a sea as that first one that <i>Zip</i> had +dived into which did the trick, only, as the <i>Flossie</i> +was going faster, the impact was somewhat more +severe. She was a mile or more distant from us +when it happened, and, watching from the bridge +of the <i>Zip</i>, we simply saw her dissolve into a sky-tossed +spout of foam. When she reappeared she +was floating, beam-on, to the seas, and, for the +moment, an apparently helpless hulk.</p> + +<p>The captain’s instant diagnosis of a couple of +muffled detonations which followed was entirely +correct.</p> + +<p>“That sea must have ‘jack-knifed’ the <i>Flossie</i> so +sharply,” he said, “that the recoil took up the +slack in the wires, releasing two ‘cans’ she seems +to have had set and ready. It’s about the same +thing as just happened to us, except that the tautened +wire only rang the stand-by bell, the signal +for the men to set the depth-charges. First thing +I did after we came to the surface was to negative +that supposed order. That was what I was doing +when I waved to those boys who were clawing at<!-- Page 134 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +the ‘cans,’ with their heads under water. Lucky +they weren’t carried away.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a name="BASE" id="BASE"><img src="images/illo07.jpg" + alt="NOW SHE WAS BACK AT BASE" style="border:0" + title="NOW SHE WAS BACK AT BASE" + height="338" width="600" /></a> +</div> +<h4>NOW SHE WAS BACK AT BASE</h4> + +<p>It was a chastened <i>Flossie</i> which had gone +floundering back to station a few minutes later, but +somehow or other she had managed to carry on, and +now she was back at Base. I won’t “give comfort +to the enemy” by trying to describe her appearance, +but some hint of it may be gleaned from the +laconic comment of one of the <i>Zip’s</i> signalmen, as +the “Flotilla’s Pride” was warping in to moor +alongside the mother ship.</p> + +<p>“Gee whiz!” he ejaculated. “See the old <i>Vindictive</i> +limpin’ home from Zeebruggy! S’pose +they’ll fill her up with concrete now an’ block a +channel.”</p> + +<p>The captain grinned as he overheard the remark +where he waited by the starboard rail for the last +of the mooring lines to be made fast. “It’s not +quite so bad as that,” he said. “If need be, they’ll +have her, and all the rest of us, right as trivets in +three or four days, and quite ready to take the sea +again when our turn comes. It’s all in the convoy +game, anyhow, and not such bad fun after all, +’specially when it’s behind you, and you’ve got a +bath, and a change, and a lunch at the Club, and +an afternoon of tennis in immediate prospect. +Come along.”</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><!-- Page 135 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>YANK BOAT <i>versus</i> U-BOAT</h3> + + +<p>It was the turn of the tide and the turn of the +day on the “quiet waters of the River Lee.” +Pale blue columns of smoke rose above the +verdant boskiness which masked the squat brown +cabins where the peat fires smouldered, and along +the straggling stone wall which crowned the ridge +the swaying heads of home-returning cows showed +intermittently against the glowing western sky. +The peacefulness of it was almost palpable. You +seemed to breathe it, and could all but reach out +with the hand and touch it.</p> + +<p>It permeated even to the long lines of lean destroyers +in the stream, and it was the subtly suggestive +influence of it which had deflected homeward +the minds of the motley-clad sailors who were +lounging at ease about the stern of the first of a +“cluster” of three of these—like a sheaf of bright +multi-coloured arrows the trim craft looked, with +the level rays of the setting sun striking across +them where they lay moored alongside each other—and +set tongues wagging of the little things which, +magnified by distance, loom large in the imaginations +of men in exile.<!-- Page 136 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> + +<p>They were deep in the “old home town” stuff +when I sauntered inconsequently aft on the off-chance +of picking up a yarn or two, but as there appeared +to be no one present from my part of the +country, no immediate opportunity to break in +presented itself. Equally an outsider was I when +the flow of discussion turned to woollen sweaters +and socks and mufflers, and the golden trails of +romance leading back from the names and messages +sewed or knitted into them.</p> + +<p>No fair unknowns had ever sent <i>me</i> any of these +soft comforts, and after I had heard a lusty youngster +from Virginia tell how a “sweater address” he +had written what he described as a “lettah that was +good and plenty w’am, b’lieve me,” replied that she +was “jest goin’ twelve years,” and that her mother +didn’t think she ought to be thinking of marriage +just yet—after that I didn’t feel quite so bad over +not having had a chance to open one of these +“woolly” correspondences. There was some +solace, too, in hearing a pink-cheeked young ex-bank +clerk tell how the “abdominal bandage” +(they name them, as a rule, after the garment that +starts the correspondence), with whom he had exchanged +something like a dozen letters of cumulative +passion, brought the affair to a sudden and +violent end by some indirect and inadvertent +admission which showed that she remembered when +Grant was President.</p> + +<p>But when the talk drifted, as it always does in<!-- Page 137 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +the end, to baseball and baseballers, I knew that +there was going to be an opening for me presently, +and stood by to take advantage of it. A three-year +absentee from the bleachers, I was not sufficiently +up on last season’s pennant race “dope” to +do more than make frequent sapient observations +on this or that big-leaguer’s stickwork or +fielding as he was mentioned; but when they began +to discuss, or rather to wrangle over, for discuss is +far too polite a term, the theory of the game and to +grow red in the face over such esoterics (or “inside +stuff,” to put it in “Fanese”) as how and when +a “squeeze” ought to be pulled off, I showed them +the bulbous first joint of the little finger of my +right hand—which there is no other way of acquiring +than by the repeated telescopings of many +seasons on the diamond—and was welcomed at last +on equal terms. A seat was offered me on a depth-charge, +across the business end of which an empty +sack had been thrown to prevent a repetition of +what came near happening the time a stoker, who +was proving that Hans Wagner could never again +be a popular idol now that we were at war with the +Huns, punctuated his argument by hammering with +a monkey-wrench on the firing mechanism.</p> + +<p>They were not as impressed as they should have +been when I told them that I learned the game +under the tutelage of the mighty Bill Lange (this, +of course, because the incomparable “Big Bill” +was at his zenith long before their time); but they<!-- Page 138 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +were duly respectful when I said I had played +three years’ Varsity baseball, and became quite +deferential when I assured them I had also survived +a season of bush-league in the North-West. There +was some kind of electrician rating in the crowd +who had been a bush-league twirler before his +“wing went glass,” as he put it, and he, it soon +transpired, had played in one place or another with +a number of my old team mates of the Montana +League. Deep in reminiscence of those good old +days, I quite forgot my subtle scheme of using baseball +as a stalking-horse for destroyer yarns, when +the arrival of some callers from a British sloop +lying a mile or two farther down the harbour recalled +it to me. They had been in the <i>Moonflower</i>, +the man next me said, when she put a U-boat out +of business not long before, and one of them—he +had some sort of decoration for his part in the +show—spun a cracking good yarn about it if you +got him started. This latter I managed to do by +asking him how it chanced that the <i>Moonflower</i> +was allowed to sport a star on her funnel. The +story he told, the while he rolled cigarettes and +worked his jaws on Yankee chewing-gum, revealed +rather too much that may be used in some future +surprise party to make it possible to publish just +yet, but it had the desired effect of turning the current +of reminiscence U-boatward. That was what +I wanted, for, now that men from several other destroyers +had come aboard and sauntered aft to join<!-- Page 139 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +the party, the opportunity for finding out at firsthand +just what the American sailors thought of +the anti-submarine game at the end of a year and a +half of it was too good to be missed.</p> + +<p>There was a considerable variety of opinions expressed +in that last hour of the second dog-watch +on the intricate inside stuff of the anti-U-boat game, +just as there had been about baseball, but there was +one point on which they were practically agreed: +that Fritz, especially during the last six months, +was not giving them a proper run for their money. +This is the way one of them, a bronzed seaman +gunner, with the long gorilla-like arms of a Sam +Langford, and gnarled knots of protuberant +muscles at the angles of his jaws, epitomized it: +“We sees Fritzie, or we don’t. Mostly we don’t, +for he ducks under when he pipes our smoke. If +he’s stalkin’ a convoy there’s jest a chance of him +givin’ us time for a rangin’ shot at him on the surface. +Then we waltzes over to his grease and scatters +a bunch of ‘cans’ round his restin’-place. An’ +if the luck’s with us, we gets him; an’ if the luck’s +with him, we don’t. If we crack open his shell, +down he goes; if we jest start him leakin’, up he +comes. Only dif’rence is that, in one case, it’s all +hands down, and in t’other, all hands up—‘Kamerad!’ +In both cases, no fight, no run for +our money. Now when we first come over, an’ ’fore +we’d put the fear o’ God into Fritzie’s heart, he +wasn’t above takin’ a chance at a come-back now an’<!-- Page 140 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +again. <i>Then</i> there was occas’nal moments of +ple’surabl’ excitement, like the time when”—and +he went on to tell of how an enterprising U-boat +commander slipped a slug into the <i>Courser</i> abreast +her after superstructure, and “beat it” off before +that stricken destroyer had a chance to retaliate. +Only the fact that, by a miracle, the torpedo failed +to detonate her depth-charges saved the <i>Courser</i> +from destruction, and even as it was, rare seamanship +had been required to take her back to port. +And he also told of the unlucky <i>John Hawkins</i>, +which a U-boat had actually put down, and the +grim situation which confronted the sailors when +they found themselves sinking in a ship which +carried a number of depth-charges set on the +“ready.” But all that, he said, with the air of an +old man speaking of his departed youth, was before +they had begun to learn Fritzie’s little ways, +and before Fritz, perhaps as a consequence, had +begun to lose his nerve. Now, far from being willing +to put up a fight with a destroyer, it was only +“once in a blue moon that he’s got the guts to put +up a scrap even to save his own hide.”</p> + +<p>A slender fair-haired lad, with a quick observant +eye which revealed him as a signalman even before +one looked at his sleeve, cut in sharply at this +juncture.</p> + +<p>“Then there must have been a blue moon shedding +its light over these waters last month,” he +said decisively. “I quite agree with you that<!-- Page 141 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +Fritz hasn't got the nerve—or it may be because +he’s got too much sense—to take a chance at a destroyer +any more. But in the matter of putting up +a fight for his life—yes, even for giving a real run +for the money—well, all I can say is that if you’d +been out on the <i>Sherill</i> about three weeks ago, you +wouldn’t be making that complaint about one +particular Fritz at least. If going eighteen hours, +with two or three destroyers and a sloop or two +doing everything they know how to crack in his +shell all the time, without chucking his hand in, +and very likely getting clear in the end—if that +isn’t putting up a fight for life and giving a run +for the money, I don’t know what is.”</p> + +<p>I had heard this astonishing “battle of wakes +and wits,” as someone had christened it, referred +to on several occasions, but had never had the +chance to hear any of the details from one who had +had anything like the opportunities always open +to a signalman to follow what is going on. “Most +of the bunch have heard all they want to hear of it +already,” the lad replied with a laugh when I +asked him to tell me the story; “and, besides, a +more or less long-winded yarn of the kind I suppose +you want would tire ’em to tears anyway. If you +really want to hear something of it, come over to +the <i>Sherill</i> (that’s her stern there, just beyond the +<i>Flossie</i>) any time after eight bells. I go on watch +then, but it’s a ‘stand easy’ in port, and there’ll +be time for all the yarning you want.”<!-- Page 142 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> + +<p>I closed with that offer at once, and eight bells +had not long gone before I had picked my precarious +way over to the <i>Sherill</i>, and climbed the +ladders to her snug little bridge. My man was +there already, whiling away the time by rewriting +an old college football song (he had been in his +freshman year at Michigan when America came into +the war) to fit destroyer work in the North Atlantic. +I found him stuck at the end of the second +line of the first verse, because the only rhymes he +could think of for flotilla were Manila and camarilla, +neither of which seemed sufficiently opposite +to be of use, and he was rather glad of an excuse for +putting the job by to await later inspiration.</p> + +<p>I gave him a “lead” for the U-boat yarn he had +lured me there to hear, and he launched into it at +once. This is the story the young signalman of +U.S.S. <i>Sherill</i> told me, the while the red squares of +the cottagers’ windows blinked blandly along the +bank in the lengthening twilight and the purple +shadows of the western hills piled deeper and +duskier upon the “quiet waters of the River Lee.”</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>“We were out on convoy,” he said, speaking the +first words slowly between the teeth which held the +string of the tobacco sack from which the gently +manipulated paper in his hand had been filled. “It +was some kind of a slow convoy—probably a collier +or an oiler or two—and there were only two of us +on the job—the <i>McSmall</i> and the <i>Sherill</i>. It was<!-- Page 143 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +just the usual ding-dong sort of a drudge up to +about four in the afternoon of the first day out, +when the <i>McSmall</i> made a signal that she had +sighted a submarine on the starboard bow of the +convoy, distant about five miles, and immediately +stood off to the west to see if anything like a strafe +could be started. She was more than hull-down on +the horizon when I saw, by the way the angle of +her funnels was changing, that she was manœuvring +to shake loose a few ‘cans’ into the oil-slick +she had run into, but I remember distinctly that I +felt the jolt of the under-water explosions stronger +than from many we had kicked loose from the +<i>Sherill</i>, and which had detonated only a hundred +yards or so off. It’s just a little trick the depth-charge +has. The force of it seems to shoot out in +streaks, just like an explosion in the air, and you +may feel it strong at a distance and much less at +fairly close range. So far as we ever learned, this +opening salvo did not find its target.</p> + +<p>“Meanwhile the <i>Sherill</i> was escorting to the best +of her ability alone. Or at least we thought we +were alone. About half an hour after the <i>McSmall</i> +had laid those first ‘cans,’ however, one of the +quartermasters reported sighting a periscope on +the port quarter of the convoy, about five hundred +yards distant, and headed away. We signalled its +presence to the convoy, turned eight points to port, +and drove at full speed for the point where the wake +of the moving finger had pinched out.<!-- Page 144 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> + +<p>“We had received a report that morning to the +effect that two submarines were operating in these +waters, and there is just the chance, therefore, that +this was a joint attack. Everything considered, +however, we have been inclined to believe that the +Fritz we were now starting to make the acquaintance +of was the same one which the <i>McSmall</i> was +still assiduously hunting some miles off to the westward. +It was a mighty smart piece of ‘Pussy-wants-a-corner’ +work, shifting his position like +that under the circumstances; but it was quite +possible if the Fritz only had the guts for it, and +that I think you’ll have to admit this particular +one had.</p> + +<p>“It’s seconds that count in a destroyer attack on +a U-boat, and the captain hadn’t lost a tick in +jumping into this one. The dissolving ‘V’ which +the ducked-in periscope had left behind it was still +visible in the smooth water when the <i>Sherill’s</i> forefoot +slashed into it, and it was only a few hundred +yards beyond that a slow undulant upcoiling of +currents marked, faintly but unmistakably, the +under-water progress of the game we were after. +There was no oil-slick, understand, because an +uninjured submarine only leaves that behind—except +through carelessness—when it dives after +a spell on the surface running under engines. Then +the exhausts cough up a lot of grease and oil, and +a layer of this, sticking to the stern, leaves a trail +that rises for some little time after submergence,<!-- Page 145 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +and which almost any kind of a dub who has been +told what to look for can follow.</p> + +<p>“The spotting of the surface wake of a deep-down +submarine, and the holding of it after it almost +disappears with the slowing down of the screws that +make it, is quite another thing. <i>That</i> takes a man +with more than a keen eye—it takes instinct, mixed +with a lot of common sense. It’s a common thing to +say of a successful look-out that he has a ‘quick +nose for submarines.’ The expression is used more +or less figuratively, of course; and yet the nose—the +sense smell—is by no means a negligible factor +in detecting the presence, and even the bearing, of +a hunted U-boat. I will tell you shortly how it +figured in this particular instance.</p> + +<p>“That wake was swirling up so strong when we +struck it that it was plain the submarine was still +only on the way down, and it was no surprise when, +a few seconds later, the distinct form of it was +visible, close aboard under the starboard side of the +bridge.</p> + +<p>“I don’t mean that it was distinct in the sense +that you could see details such as the bow or stern +rudders, or even the conning-tower, but only that a +moving cigar-shaped blob of darker green could be +plainly made out. The for’ard end was rather +more sharply defined than the after, probably because +the swirl from the propellers made uneven +refraction about the tail. It was doubtless a good +deal deeper than it looked, and the fact that it<!-- Page 146 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +could be seen at all must have been almost entirely +due to the fact that the absence of wind left the +surface quite unrippled.</p> + +<p>“The appearance of the submarine abreast the +bridge was our cue to get busy, and I won’t need +to tell you that we went to it good and plenty. We +were primed for just that kind of an emergency, +and we slapped down a barrage in a way that +looked more like chucking coppers for kids to +scramble after than the really scientific planting +of high explosives that it was. For a minute or two +the little old <i>Sherill</i>, dancing down the up-tossed +peaks of the explosions, jolted along like the canoe +you are dragging over a ‘corduroyed’ portage. +Then the going grew smooth again, and under a +hard-over right rudder we turned back rejoicing to +gather in the sheaves. Yes, it looked quite as simple +as harvesting on the old home farm, and it +didn’t seem that there could be anything left to do +but to go back and pick up with the rake what the +mower had brought low. And so it would have +been on an ordinary occasion, which, unluckily, +this was not. From the first to last, indeed, it was +quite the contrary.</p> + +<p>“The whole map of that little opening brush was +spread out before us as we came back, and almost +as clearly, for the moment, as though modelled in +coloured clay. The <i>Sherill’s</i> wake, though it had +obliterated that of the submarine, coincided with +the tell-tale swirl of the latter we had followed,<!-- Page 147 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +while the round patches of spreading foam made the +dizzily dancing buoys temporarily superfluous as +markers of the spots where the depth-charges had +exploded. Like every other story that is writ in +water, this one was rapidly dissolving; but, from all +that we needed to learn from it, the record was as +complete as a bronze relief.</p> + +<p>“That there was to be another chapter to the +story became evident before we had doubled back +half the length of that part of the wake we had +sprinkled with ‘cans.’ At about the point where +two-thirds of that sheaf of depth-charges had been +expended a clearly defined wake of oil and bubbles +turned sharply off to the left. The presence of that +little trail cleared up several important points +right then and there without following it any +farther, though I will hardly need to tell you that +we didn’t drop anchor to hold a court of inquiry +over it. The vital thing it told us was that—strange +as it seemed—our under-water bombardment +had not sent the U-boat to the bottom, nor +even injured it sufficiently to compel it to come +to the surface. But that it was injured, and probably +fairly badly, was proved by the wake of oil +and bubbles. Don’t ever let any one delude you +with that yarn about the way Fritz sends up oil +and bubbles to baffle pursuit. There may be circumstances +under which he could work that +particular brand of foxiness with profit, but if +there is one place where you could be sure he would<!-- Page 148 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +<i>not</i> try anything of that kind on, it is when a destroyer +has got his nose on his trail, with her eye +and ears a-cock for just that kind of little first-aid +to ‘can-dropping.’ For a submarine voluntarily +to release air or oil when a destroyer is ramping +round overhead would be just about like a burglar +scattering a trail of confetti to baffle the pursuit of +the police. Fritz is as full of ways that are dark +and of tricks that are vain as Ah Sin, but—with the +hounds at his heels—nothing so foolish as that oil +and bubble stunt of popular fiction.</p> + +<p>“The first few of the ‘cans’ had evidently burst +near enough to this Fritz to buckle his shell and +release the oil and air, but his sharp right-angled +turn to the left had taken him quite clear of the last +of the charges, which had only been thrown away. +Wounded and winged as he appeared to be, the next +thing in order was to polish him off. Slowing down +slightly, the captain steadied the <i>Sherill</i> on the +wake.</p> + +<p>“As we passed the point where this was rising, +the rate at which it was extended gave the approximate +speed of the U-boat, and the fact that this +was not above three knots seemed only another +indication that all was not well with him. Holding +on past the ‘bubble fount,’ we passed over the point +below which the U-boat must have been moving, but +now he was so much more deeply submerged than +before that no hint of his outline was visible on +either side. We knew he was there, however, and<!-- Page 149 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +when we hit the proper place shook loose another +shower of ‘cans’ over him.</p> + +<p>“There is nothing deeply mysterious about the +calculations in dropping depth-charges, for in no +sense of the term can it be called an instrument of +precision. Indeed, it is of the bludgeon rather than +the rapier type. If you have a wake to guide, you +approximate his speed and course from that, guess +at his depth, set the charge at the corresponding +depth from which you judge its explosion will do +most good, and then, allowing for your own speed +and course, release it at a point which you reckon +the target will have reached by the time the charge +gets down on a level with it. It is something like +bomb-dropping from an aeroplane, only rather less +accurate, because you don’t see your target as a +rule.</p> + +<p>“This is more than compensated for, however, by +the greater vulnerability of its target and the fact +that the force of an under-water explosion is felt +over a wider area than that of an air-bomb. That’s +about all there is to it. Success in ‘can-dropping’ +depends about half on the skill and judgment of +the man directing it, and about half on luck. Or +perhaps I should say that fifty-fifty was about the +way it stood when we started in at the game. +Naturally, as we have accumulated experience, +skill and judgment begin to count for more and +luck for less, though we are a long way from reaching +the point where the latter is eliminated entirely.<!-- Page 150 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Again we circled back to pick up the pieces, and +again we found only a wake of oil and bubbles +angling sharply off from where the ‘cans’ had been +dropped. It was encouraging to note that both oil +and bubbles were rising faster than before, but +there was surprise and disappointment in the fact +that they were now streaming along at a rate which +indicated Fritz was hitting an under-water speed +of six or seven knots.</p> + +<p>“By now it was plain what his method was, however. +This was to steady on his course till his +hydrophones, which all U-boats are fitted with, of +course, told him we were bearing down on him, and +then to start making ‘woggly’ zigzags. The captain +was doing some deep thinking as we headed in +for the next attack, and I noticed him following +his stopwatch with more than usual care as he +jiggled off the ‘cans.’</p> + +<p>“One of the detonations had a different kick from +the others, and I was just speculating if it had been +a hit, when up comes Fritz, rolling like a harpooned +whale.</p> + +<p>“We were just turning sharp under left rudder +and, not wanting to take any chances, the captain +gave orders for all guns fearing to open fire. No. +1 and No. 2 of the port battery got off about five +rounds apiece, and when the splashes from the exploding +shells had subsided Fritz had gone. It +looked like a hundred to one that we had finished +him—until we ran into another of those darn wakes<!-- Page 151 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +of oil and bubbles reeling off at a good five or six +knots.</p> + +<p>“Again we ‘canned’ him, and again the thickening +trail of grease gave promise that, if nothing +else, we were at least bleeding him hard, perhaps +to death. As there was no doubt that he was still +a going concern, however, the captain decided on a +change of tactics, to try attrition, so to speak, +instead of direct assault.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a name="CANS" id="CANS"><img src="images/illo08.jpg" + alt="A LIMIT TO THE NUMBER OF CANS A DESTROYER CAN CARRY" + style="border:0" title="A LIMIT TO THE NUMBER OF CANS A DESTROYER CAN CARRY" + height="498" width="600" /></a> +</div> +<h4>A LIMIT TO THE NUMBER OF “CANS” A DESTROYER CAN CARRY</h4> + +<p>“There is, of course, a limit to the number of +‘cans’ a destroyer can carry, and those which still +remained he wanted to husband against a better +chance to use them with effect. The several remaining +hours of daylight would be enough, if the U-boat +could be kept running at maximum speed, to exhaust +its batteries in and force it to come to the +surface for lack of power to keep going submerged. +A submarine, you understand, unless it can lie on +the bottom, which was impossible here on account +of the depth, must keep under weigh to maintain +its bouyancy, so it follows that the exhaustion of +its batteries leaves no alternative but coming up. +That was what we were now driving at with this +one.</p> + +<p>“About this time, hearing the radio of the <i>Cushman</i> +close aboard, the captain sent a signal requesting +her help in clearing up the job in hand. She +hove in sight presently, accompanied by the <i>Fanny</i>, +which was out with her on some special stunt of +their own. They had an hour to spare for us, and<!-- Page 152 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +in that time we played just about the merriest little +game of hide-and-seek that any of our destroyers +have had with a Fritz since the Yanks came over.</p> + +<p>“He wasn’t left time to sit and think for a single +minute. Now a destroyer would come charging up +his wake from astern and shy a ‘can’ at his tail; +now one would ambush him from ahead and try and +have one waiting where his nose was going to be.</p> + +<p>“It was a good deal like when three or four of +us kids used to spear catfish in a muddy pool. We +were always grazing one, but never quite getting +it. And, believe me, the wake of one of those catfish +didn’t have anything on the wake of that Fritz for +sinuosity.</p> + +<p>“He was zigzagging constantly, and just after +charges had been dropped on him he twice broached +surface. It was only for a few seconds though, +and never long enough to offer a target for even a +ranging shot. Once we tried to ram, but he turned +as he submerged, and the forefoot cut into nothing +more solid than his propeller swirl.</p> + +<p>“After the <i>Cushman</i> and <i>Fanny</i> left us to resume +their own job the <i>Sherill</i> took up the chase again on +her own account. There were still about three +hours to go till dark, and two of these we spent in +keeping our quarry on the jump by every trick we +knew. Then we stood away, and gave him a chance +to come up and start charging on the surface. +When it finally became evident that he was not +going to take advantage of our consideration on this +score, we closed in again, picked up his wake, sent<!-- Page 153 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +down another ‘can’ or two to tell him what we +thought of him.</p> + +<p>“The last of these must have been near to a hit, +for it brought up oil bubbles three feet in diameter, +with smaller bubbles of air inside of them. The +oil-slick left behind by his wake was so heavy that, +even in the failing light, it was visible for several +miles. He was now making about five knots. We +followed that broad slick of oil for some time after +darkness had fallen, and it was not till a little +before midnight that we lost it.</p> + +<p>“There wasn’t much hope of regaining touch +before daybreak, but on the off-chance the captain +started circling in a way that would cover a lot of +sea, and yet not take us too far from the centre of +interest.</p> + +<p>“It was a little after one in the morning that +one of the look-outs—perhaps ‘sniff-outs’ would be +a better term under the circumstances—reported an +oil smell to windward. The captain promptly +ordered her headed up into the wind, with sniffers +stationed to port and starboard, fore and aft. +Every man on watch was sniffing away on his own, +of course, and you can bet it would have been a +funny sight if there had only been enough light for +us to see one another in. Nosing—I can use the +term literally this time—slowly along, turning now +to port, now to starboard, as the oil smell was +strongest from this side or that, within ten minutes<!-- Page 154 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +we picked up a slick which, even in the darkness, it +was evident was trending to south’ard. For an +hour and a half we zigzagged up along that wake, +keeping touch by smell until just before three +o’clock, when the new well-risen moon showed it +up distinctly to the eye. No,” answering my frivolous +interruption, “I don’t recall noticing at the +time that it was a <i>blue</i> moon.</p> + +<p>“Ten minutes later we came up to where the +wake turned to south-westward, and had a brief +glimpse of Fritz trying to evade detection by running +down the moon-path. He was plainly near +the end of his juice, and taking every chance that +offered to charge on the surface. He ducked under +before there was time for a shot, but, knowing that +he could hardly stay there for long, we continued +following down his wake.</p> + +<p>“It was broad daylight when, at half-past four, +we sighted him again, running awash about five +hundred yards ahead and slightly on the starboard +bow. Ordering the bow gun to open fire, the captain +put the <i>Sherill</i> at full speed and headed in to +ram. The shots fell very close, but no hit was +observed.</p> + +<p>“He turned sharply to port, preparing to dive. +We tried to follow with full left rudder, but missed +by twenty feet. His conning-tower and two periscopes +showed not over thirty feet from the port +side as we swept by. It was too close for a torpedo, +nor was there a fair chance for a depth-charge.<!-- Page 155 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +The port battery was opening on him as he submerged.</p> + +<p>“The strengthening breeze began kicking up the +surface about this time, making it difficult to follow +the wake. It was six o’clock before we circled into +it again, to find that Fritz was now trying to blind +pursuit by steering his course so that the wake led +away straight toward the low morning sun. It +was probably by accident rather than design that +his now reversed course also laid his wake across +some of the zigzags of his old oil-slick. At any rate, +between that and the sun, we got off the scent +again, and did not get in touch till an hour later, +when a thin blue-white vapour to the eastward +revealed the blow-off of his exhaust where he had +resumed charging on the surface.</p> + +<p>“He was a good five miles away, but we turned +loose at him with the bow gun and started closing +at full speed. At almost the same time, the +British sloop <i>Moonflower</i>—the same one we were +talking about this evening—stood in from eastward, +also firing at the enemy, who was about midway +between us.</p> + +<p>“Fritz disappeared under the foam-spouts +thrown up by the fall of shot, and, although two +more destroyers joined in the hunt, which was continued +all that day and on to nightfall, no further +trace of him was discovered. Even if he did not +sink at once, the chances are all against his being +in shape ever to get back to base. But just the<!-- Page 156 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +same,” he concluded, with a wistful smile, “it +would have been comforting to have had something +more tangible than the memory of an oil smell and +thirty-six hours without sleep as souvenirs of that +little brush.”</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It had been dark for an hour where the waters of +the River Lee were streaming seaward with the ebbing +tide, but the tree-tops along the crest of the +eastward hills were silvering in the first rays of the +rising moon. The signalman was looking at it +when I bade him good night and started down the +ladder to the main deck.</p> + +<p>“I hope it isn’t a blue one,” he said with a grin; +“we’re expecting to go out again tomorrow.”</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><!-- Page 157 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>ADRIATIC PATROL</h3> + + +<p>Boring into a North Sea blizzard in a destroyer +off the coast of Norway is not exactly +the kind of thing that one would think +would turn a man’s thoughts to sunny climes, with +scented breezes blowing over flowery fields, and +cobalt skies arching over sapphire waters, and all +that sort of thing; but the human mind moves in a +mysterious way, and that is just what Lieutenant +K—— started talking about the night we were +shepherding the northbound convoy together, after +it had been temporarily scattered by what had +proved to be an abortive German light cruiser raid.</p> + +<p>Sea-booted, mufflered and goggled, and ponderous +where his half-inflated “Gieve” bulged beneath his +ample duffle-coat, he leaned over the starboard rail +of the bridge for a space to get the clear view +ahead that the frost-layer on the wind-screen +denied him from anywhere inboard. Then, just +ducking a sea that rolled in tumultuously fluent +ebony over the forecastle gun and smothered the +bridge in flying spray, he nipped across and threw +a half-Nelson around a convenient stanchion before +the pitch, as she dived down the back of the<!-- Page 158 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +retreating wave, threw him against the port rail.</p> + +<p>“Got ’em all in line again,” he said, pushing his +face close to mine. “That’s something to be thankful +for, anyhow. Didn’t expect to round up half +of ’em before we had to stand away to pick up the +southbound. Piece of uncommon good luck. Now +we can stand easy for a spell.”</p> + +<p>I was about to observe that “stand easy” didn’t +seem to me quite the appropriate term to apply to +the act of keeping one’s balance on a craft which +was blending thirty-degree rolls with forty-degree +pitches to form a corkscrew-like motion of an eccentricity +comparable to nothing else in the gamut of +human experience, when he continued with: “Not +much like what I was enjoying a month ago, this,” +indicating the encompassing darkness with a +rotary roll of his head. “I was in a destroyer at +an Italian base then—Brindisi—with the smell of +dust and donkeys and wine-shops in the air, and +straight-backed, black-haired, black-eyed girls, with +rings in their ears and baskets of fruit—soft red +and yellow and blue fruit—on their heads. Now +it’s”—and she put her nose deep into a wave that +dealt her a sledge-hammer blow and sent spray +flying half-way to the foretop in a solid stream—“this, +just this. Grey by day, black by night, and +slap-bang all the time. No light, no colour, no +atmosphere, no——”</p> + +<p>“I quite understand,” I cut in. “No straight-backed +girls with rings in their ears and fruit-baskets<!-- Page 159 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +on their heads. Of course, there’s more +light and colour down there than here; but wasn’t +there also a bit of slap-bang to it now and then?”</p> + +<p>“Ay, there was a bit,” he replied. “There was +the time——” He started to tell me the already +time-worn yarn of the Yarmouth trawler skipper +and the Grimsby trawler skipper, each of whom, +enamoured of the same Taranto maid, wooed her +while the other was absent on patrol; of how one +of them, looking through his glass as he stood in +toward the entrance on one of his return trips, +saw his rival walking on the beach with arm round +the waist of the artful minx in question, and her +red-and-yellow kerchief-bound head resting on his +shoulder; of how the one on the trawler, consumed +by a jealousy fairly Latin in its intensity, swung +round his six-pounder, discharged it at the faithless +pair, and—so crookedly did the rage-blind eyes see +through the sights—hit a fisherman’s hut half a +mile away from his target!</p> + +<p>I had heard the story in Taranto a year previously, +and knew it to be somewhat apocryphal at +best. “I didn’t mean that kind of ‘slap-bang,’” +I said. “I was under the impression that the destroyers +had some rather lively work down there +on one or two occasions.”</p> + +<p>“There were several brushes which might have +been called lively while they lasted,” he admitted. +“I was in one of them myself just before I was +transferred north.”<!-- Page 160 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You don’t mean the recent attack on the drifter +patrol—the one where two British destroyers stood +the brunt of the attack of four Austrian destroyers +and a light cruiser or two?” I asked. “I have +always wanted to hear about that. I’ve heard +Italian naval men say some very flattering things +of the way the British carried on.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the one,” he replied. “I was in the <i>Flop</i>—the +one that got rather the worst banging up.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve just got time for the yarn before your +watch is over,” I said, settling myself into the +nearest thing to a listening attitude that one can +assume on the bridge of a destroyer bucking a +north-east gale. “Fire away.”</p> + +<p>I didn’t much expect he would “come through,” +for I had failed in so many attempts to draw a good +yarn by a frontal attack of this kind that I had +little faith in it as compared with more subtle +methods. Perhaps it was because rough methods +were suited to the rough night; or it may have been +only because K——’s mind (his non-working +mind, I mean; not that closed compartment of +sense and instinct with which he was directing his +ship) had drifted back to the Adriatic, and he was +glad of the chance to talk about it; at any rate, in +the hour that had still to go before eight bells went +for midnight, to the accompaniment of the banging +of the seas on the bows and the obbligato of the +spray beating on the glass and canvas of the +screens, he told me the story I asked for.<!-- Page 161 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I don’t need to tell you,” he said, after giving +the man at the wheel the course for the next zigzag, +“that the Adriatic is full of various and sundry +little traps and contrivances calculated to interfere +as much as possible with the even tenor of the +way of the Austrian U-boats which, basing at Pola +and Trieste, sally forth in an endeavour to penetrate +the Straits of Otranto and attack the commerce +of the Mediterranean. You doubtless also +know that this work is very largely in British +hands. This is no reflection whatever on our +Italian ally. Italy simply did not have the material +and the trained men for the task in hand, and since +Britain had both, it was naturally up to us to step +in and take it over. This was done over two years +ago; but, like the anti-submarine work everywhere, +it is only now just beginning to round into shape to +effect its ends. The winter of his discontent for the +U-boat in these waters is closing in fast.</p> + +<p>“You will understand, too, that these various +anti-U-boats contrivances take a lot of looking after +to prevent their interference with, or even their +complete destruction, by enemy surface craft. All +the good harbours are on the east coast of the +Adriatic, and that sea is so narrow that swift +Austrian destroyers can raid all the way across it +at many points, and still have time to get back to +their bases the same night. With our own bases—the +only practicable ones available—at the extreme +southern end of the Adriatic, our greatest<!-- Page 162 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +difficulty, perhaps, has been in guarding against +these swift tip-and-run night-raids by the enemy’s +speedy surface craft. I don’t know whether the +fact that we seem to have about put an end to their +operations of this kind is a greater tribute to our +enterprise or the Austrians’ lack of it. The brush +in question occurred as a consequence of the latest +of the Austrian attempts to interfere with the +measures which, he knows only too well, will ultimately +reduce his U-boats to comparative impotence.</p> + +<p>“I was Number Two in the <i>Flop</i>, which, with the +<i>Flip</i>, was patrolling a certain billet well over +toward the Austrian coast of the Adriatic. We had +turned at about eleven o’clock, and were heading +back on a westerly course, when the captain sighted +a number of vessels just abaft the starboard beam. +Being almost in the track of the low-hanging moon, +they were sharply silhouetted; but the queer atmospheric +conditions played such pranks with their +outlines that, for a time, he was deceived as to their +real character. The warm, coastal airs, blowing to +sea for a few hours after nightfall, have a tendency +to produce mirage effects scarcely less striking than +those one sees on the desert along the Suez Canal. +It was the distortion of the mirage that was responsible +for the fact that the captain mistook two +Austrian light cruisers for small Italian transports +(such as we frequently encountered on the run between +Brindisi and Valona or Santi Quaranti),<!-- Page 163 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +and that he reported what shortly turned out to be +enemy destroyers as drifters.</p> + +<p>“The captain had just made a shaded lamp signal +to the <i>Flip</i>, calling attention to the ships and +their supposed character, when the white, black-curling +bow-wave of the two leaders caught his eye +and made him suspect they were warships. The +alarm bell clanging for ‘Action Stations’ was the +first intimation I had that anything was afoot. In +the Adriatic, as everywhere else, everyone in a destroyer +turns in ‘all standing’; so it was only a +few seconds until I was out of my bunk and up to +my station on the bridge. It was not many minutes +later before I found myself in command of the ship.</p> + +<p>“It was now clear that the force sighted consisted +of two enemy light cruisers and four +destroyers, the latter disposed two on each quarter +of the rear cruiser. They were closing on us at +high speed at a constant bearing of a point or two +abaft the beam. It was up to the <i>Flip</i>, as senior +ship, to decide whether to fight or to run away on +the off-chance of living to fight another day, something +which was hardly likely to happen in the +event we closed in a real death grapple. The disparity +between our strength and that of the enemy +would have entirely justified us in doing our utmost +to avoid a decisive fight, had it been that the cards +on the table were the only ones in the game. But +this was hardly the case. Out of sight, but still +not so many miles distant, was another subdivision<!-- Page 164 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +of our destroyers, while overwhelming forces would +ultimately be hurrying up to our aid in case the +enemy could be delayed long enough. To close in +immediate action was plainly the thing, and the +<i>Flip</i> was turning in to challenge even as she made +us a signal indicating that this was her decision. +A moment more, and we were turning into line +astern of her.</p> + +<p>“Out of the moon-track now, the outlines of the +enemy ships were indistinct and shadowy, and it +was from the dull blur of opacity above the slightly +phosphorescent glow of the ‘bone’ in the teeth of +the leading cruiser that the opening shot was fired. +It lighted her up brilliantly for the fraction of a +second, and the ghostly geyser from the bursting +shell showed up distinctly a few hundred yards +ahead of the <i>Flip</i>. Both the sharpened image of the +cruiser in the light of the gun-fire and the time of +flight of the shell helped us with the range, and the +fall of shot from the <i>Flip’s</i> opener looked like a very +near thing. We followed it with one from our +fo’c’sl’ gun, which was a bit short, and the next, if +not a hit, was only slightly over. At this juncture, +all six of the enemy ships came into action with +every gun they could bring to bear, and the <i>Flip</i> +and the <i>Flop</i> did the same. For the next few +minutes things happened so fast that I can’t be +sure of getting them in anywhere near their actual +sequence.</p> + +<p>“We began hitting repeatedly, and with good<!-- Page 165 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +effect, after the first few shots, and the <i>Flip</i> also +appeared to be throwing some telling ones home. +The enemy were hitting the both of us about the +same time, however, and, of course, with many +times the weight of metal we were getting to him. +At this juncture the skipper of the <i>Flip</i>, evidently +figuring that the Austrians, now that they were +fully engaged and had a good chance of polishing +us off, would not break off the fight, turned southward +with the idea of drawing them toward the +other forces which we knew would be rushing up +in response to the signal we had sent out the instant +the character of the strange ships was evident.</p> + +<p>“The <i>Flip</i>, like a big squid, began smoke-screening +heavily as she turned, the <i>Flop</i> following suit. +The sooty oil fumes poured out in clouds thick +enough to walk on, but unluckily, neither our +course nor the state of the atmosphere was quite +favourable for making it go where it would have +served us best. Possibly it was because the <i>Flip</i> +was making a better screen than the <i>Flop</i>, or possibly +it was because they were concentrating on the +‘windy corner’ just as we were rounding it. At +any rate, trying to observe through our rather +patchy smoke the effect of what appeared to be a +couple of extremely well-placed shots of ours on +the leading cruiser, I suddenly became aware that +all four of the destroyers and the second cruiser +were directing all of their fire upon the poor little +<i>Flop</i>. I don’t recall exactly whether I twigged this<!-- Page 166 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +before we began to feel the effects of it or not, but +I am rather under the impression that I seemed +to sense it from the brighter brightness—a gun +firing directly at you makes a more brilliant flash +than the same gun laid on a target ahead or astern +of you—of the flame-spurts even before I was aware +of the sudden increase of the fall of shot.</p> + +<p>“They had us ranged to a yard by this time, of +course, and the captain turned away a couple of +points in an endeavour to throw them off. I recall +distinctly that it was just as the grind of the ported +helm began to throb up to the bridge that a full +salvo—probably from one of the cruisers—came +crashing into us. My first impression was that we +were blown up completely, for of the two shells +which had struck for’ard, one had brought down +the mast and the other had scored a clean hit on the +forebridge. There was also a hit or two aft, but the +immediate effects of these were not evident in the +chaos caused by the others. This was absolutely +beyond description.</p> + +<p>“The actual shock to a ship of being struck by +a shell of even large calibre is nothing to compare +with that from almost any one of these seas that +are crashing over us now. But it is the noise of the +explosion, the rending of metal, and the bang of +flying fragments and falling gear that makes a +heavy shelling so staggering, to mind if not to body. +Of course everyone on the forebridge was knocked +flat by the explosion of the shell which hit it, and<!-- Page 167 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +the worst of it was that the most of us didn’t get up +again. The sub and the middy who were acting as +Control Officers were blown off their platform and +so badly knocked up that they were unable to carry +on. One signalman and one voice-pipe man were +killed outright.</p> + +<p>“The rest of us were only shaken up or no more +than slightly wounded by this particular shell, but +the one which brought down the mast added not a +little both to casualties and material damage. The +radio aerials came down with the mast, of course, +and it was some of the wreckage from one or the +other that fell on the captain, wounding him +severely in both arms. Dazed and shaken, he still +gamely stuck to the wreck of the bridge, but the +active command now fell to me.</p> + +<p>“This damage, serious as it was, was by no means +the extent of that inflicted by this unlucky salvo. +A third shell, as I shortly learned, had passed +through the fore shell-room and into the fore +magazine. In which it exploded I could not quite +make sure, but both were set on fire. This fire got +to some of the cordite before it was possible to get +it away, and the ensuing explosion killed or +wounded most of the supply parties and the crews +of the twelve-pounders. It was brave beyond all +words, the fight those men made to save the ship +down in that unspeakable hell-hole, and it was due +wholly to their courage and devotion that the explosion +was no worse than it was. This trouble,<!-- Page 168 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +luckily, was hardly more than local, but a number +of good lives was the price of keeping it so.</p> + +<p>“There was one other consequence of that salvo, +and though it sounds funny to tell about it now, it +might well have made all the difference in the world +to us. In the bad smashing-up of the bridge of any +ship by shell-fire the means of communication with +the rest of her—the voice-pipes, telephones, telegraphs, +etc.—are among the first things to be +knocked out. This means, if there are no alternatives +left, that directions have to be relayed around +by shouting from one to another until the order +reaches the man to carry it out. This would be an +awkward enough expedient for a ship that is not +under fire and fighting for time and her life. What +it is with the enemy’s shell exploding about you, +and with your own guns firing, I will leave you to +imagine. Well, we had all this going on, and besides +that a fire raging below that always had the +possibilities of disaster in it until it was extinguished. +Also, we were already short-handed +from our losses in killed and wounded. There +wasn’t anyone to spare to relay orders about in any +case. But what capped the climax was this: When +the mast was shot down, some of the raffle of rigging +or radio fouled the wires leading back to both +of the sirens, turning a full pressure of steam into +them and starting them blowing continuously. It +was almost as though the poor maimed and mangled +<i>Flop</i> were wailing aloud in her agony.<!-- Page 169 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I didn’t think of it that way at the time, though, +for I had my hands full wailing loud enough myself +to make even the man at the wheel understand what +I wanted him to do. Luckily, the engine-room telegraph, +though somewhat cranky, was still in action, +and orders to other parts of the ship we managed +to convey by flash-lamp or messenger. It was ten +minutes or more before they contrived to hush the +sirens—it was cutting off their steam that did it, I +believe—and by then a new and even more serious +trouble had developed through the jamming of the +helm. It was hard over to starboard at that, so +that the <i>Flop</i> simply began turning round and +round like a kitten chasing its tail. This involuntary +manœuvre had one favourable effect in that +it seemed to throw the Austrian gunnery off for a +bit, though one shell which penetrated and exploded +in the after tiller-flat shortly after she began +cutting capers did not make it any easier to coax +the jammed helm into doing its bit again.</p> + +<p>“Our ‘ring-around-the-roses’ course had resulted +in our coming much nearer to the enemy, +who, seeing a chance to finish us off, was trying to +close the range at high speed. Our rotary course +brought them on a continually shifting bearing, and +it was while they were coming up on our port bow +at a distance of less than a mile that it suddenly +became evident that the cruisers were about to +present us the finest and easiest kind of a torpedo +target. The captain, who, in spite of his wounds,<!-- Page 170 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +was still trying to stick the show through, saw the +opening as soon as I did, and, because there was no +one else free to attempt the trick, tackled it himself. +But it was a case of the spirit being willing and the +flesh weak. With every ounce of nerve in him he +tried to make his almost useless hands work the +forebridge firing-gear. The chance passed while +he still fumbled frantically but vainly to release the +one little messenger—a mouldie—that would have +been enough to square accounts, and with some to +spare. It was the hardest thing of all—not being +able to take advantage of that opening.</p> + +<p>“It was twenty minutes before the helm was of +any use at all, and the Austrians had only their +lack of nerve to thank for not putting us down +while they had a chance. It must have been because +they were afraid of some kind of a trap, for +there were a half-dozen ways in which a force of +their strength could have disposed of a ship as helpless +and knocked-out generally as was the <i>Flop</i>. +The <i>Flip</i> had also been hard hit, and when I had +a chance for a good look at her again it appeared +that her mast, like ours, was trailing over the side. +She was still firing, however, and it was she rather +than the enemy that was trying to close. We were +quite cut off from wireless communication, as all +attempts to disentangle the aerials from the +wreckage of the mast had been unsuccessful; but it +was evident that help was coming to us, and that +the Austrians had in some way got wind of it. At<!-- Page 171 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +any rate, our immediate responsibilities were over. +We had prevented the enemy from reaching his +objective, and possibly delayed him long enough for +some of our other ships to have a chance at harrying +his retreat. It was now up to us to limp to +port on whatever legs we had left.</p> + +<p>“We were still a long way from being out of +action even now, but with the fires continuing to +burn fiercely in the fore magazine and shell-room, +with the helm threatening to jam every time course +was altered, and with a considerable mixture of +water beginning to make its presence felt in the +oil, there was no telling what complications might +set in at any moment. As one of the Italian bases +in Albania was rather nearer than any port on the +other side of the Adriatic, it was for that we set +our still erratic course.</p> + +<p>“Our troubles were not yet over, however. Just +as the moon came down and sat on the sea preliminary +to setting, squarely against the round +yellow background it formed I saw the silhouette +of the conning-tower of a U-boat. At almost the +same instant the helm jammed again. Then it +worked free for a few seconds, but only to jam +presently, just as before. This continued during +two or three minutes, and just as it was wangled +right and we began to steady again I saw the wake +of a torpedo pass across our bows. Half a minute +later another one missed us in the same way, and +by about the same distance. I have always thought<!-- Page 172 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +that nothing but that providential jamming of the +helm just then saved us from intercepting both of +those mouldies.</p> + +<p>“The fires in the fore shell-room and magazine +were eventually got under control by flooding, and +we were fairly cushy when we dropped anchor at +base a little before daybreak.”</p> + +<p>K—— lurched over to the starboard rail and +counted the dark blurs that represented the units of +the straggling convoy. He was wiping snow and +spray from his face as he slid back on the roll to +our stanchion.</p> + +<p>“Fine place, Southern Albania,” he muttered. +“Plenty of heat and dust and sunshine and——”</p> + +<p>I never did hear what the rest of those Albanian +attractions were. At that juncture dusky figures +emerging from the deeper gloom of the ladder +heralded the appearance of the middle watch, and +for those relieved, including myself, the world held +just one thing—a long, narrow bunk, with a high +side rail to prevent the occupant from rolling out. +You go at your sleep on a destroyer as a dog dives +at a bone, for you never know how long it may be +before you get another chance.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><!-- Page 173 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>PATROL</h3> + + +<p>The Senior Naval Officer (or the S.N.O., as +they clip it down to) at X—— had prepared +me for finding an interesting human exhibit +in the sharp-nosed, stub-sterned little craft snuggled +up to the breast of its mothership for a drink +of petrol, or whatever other life-giving essence she +lived and laboured on, but hardly for the highly +diversified assortment that was to reveal itself to +me during those memorable days we were to rub +shoulders and soak up blown brine and grog together +as they threaded the gusty sea lanes of her +winter North Sea patrol.</p> + +<p>“I am sending you out on M.L.<span class="fnanchor"> <a name="footnoted" id="footnoted"></a><a href="#footd">[D]</a></span> ——,” the S.N.O. +had said as he gazed down with an affectionate +smile at the object of his remarks, “for several reasons, +but principally on account of the men that +are in her. You’ll find them a living, breathing +object-lesson in the adaptability of the supposedly +stodgy and inflexible Anglo-Saxon race. Her skipper, +to use one of his own favourite expressions, is +a live wire—always seems to be able to spark when +there’s trouble in the wind. He came from somewhere +<!-- Page 174 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +in Western Canada, I believe. Seems to have +tried farming there for a spell, and I think he said +something once about running his own agricultural +tractor. At any rate, in some way or another, he +has picked up more practical knowledge of petrol +engines than many of our so-called experts.</p> +<div class="footnote"><a name="footd" id="footd"></a> +<a href="#footnoted">[D]</a> Motor launch. +</div> + +<p>“The fact is,” continued the S.N.O. as we turned +back towards his office at the end of the quay, “the +fact is that D——, though he never saw salt water +before he crossed the Atlantic to do his bit in the +War, and though he never has got and never will +get, I’m afraid, his sea-legs, is in many respects the +most useful M.L. Officer I have ever had to do with, +and that’s saying a good deal, let me assure you.</p> + +<p>“He’s always sick as a dog from the time he puts +to sea to the time he returns to port. The only +thing that is liable to be more sick is the Hun submarine +he once gets his nose on. I’ve heard him +say in a joking way, two or three times, that he +always could scent a Hun as far as he could a +skunk—I think that’s what he calls it; and from +some of the things he’s done I must confess I’m +more than half inclined to believe him. Perhaps +his most remarkable achievement, however, is that +of taking eight or ten men, just as green as he was +himself regarding the sea, and making of them a +crew that will handle that cranky little lump of a +craft pretty nearly as smartly as old trawler-men +would on the nautical side, and at the same time +having a fund of resource always on tap that is<!-- Page 175 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +positively uncanny—almost Yankee, in fact,” he +added with a smile. “Indeed, I believe D—— +speaks of having knocked about the States a bit, +which may account for some of the ‘wooden-nutmeg’ +tricks he has played on the U-boats. Try +to get him to tell you some of them. You’ll hardly +be allowed to write much of them for a while yet—certainly +not until they have become obsolete +through the introduction of new devices; but you’ll +find it good material some day.”</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>M.L. —— looked more diminutive than ever as I +was rowed out to her anchorage in the chill grey +mists of the following morning; but a raw cold, +which had been striking through to the marrow of +my bones, dissolved, as by magic, before the friendly +warmth of the welcome which awaited me, when I +had clambered up the sawn-off Jacob’s Ladder and +over the wobbly wire rail. A slender but lithely +active chap in a greasy overall and jumper, to give +it the Yankee name, gave me a finger-crushing grip +with his right hand, while with his left he deftly +caught and saved from immersion my kit-bag, which +had fallen short in the toss that had been given it +from below. Just for an instant the absence of +visible insignia of rank made me think that he was +a petty officer of engineers, or something of the +kind; then the magnetism of his personality flowed +to me through the medium of his hand-clasp, and I +knew I was looking into the eyes of a man who<!-- Page 176 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +would not be likely to figure for long as anything +less than “Number One” on any kind of job he +ever undertook.</p> + +<p>“You’re just in time for a ‘square,’” he said +heartily, leading the way to the tiny hatch and preceding +me down the ladder. “You’ll be needing it, +too, after that pull with nothing more than that +sloppy dish-wash kaffy-o-lay that you get at the +hotel at this hour of the morning on your stomach. +Don’t try to bluff me that you had anything more. +I know by sad experience. Now <i>I’ll</i> give you something +that’ll stick to your ribs. What do you say +to some Boston baked beans and a ‘stack o’ hots’? +Guess I know what a ’Murican likes. Sorry my +maple syrup’s gone, but here’s some dope I synthesised +out of melted sugar and m’lasses—treacle, +they call it over here.”</p> + +<p>Reaching the lower deck, we edged along to a +transom at the end of a table which all but filled +the tiny dining-cabin.</p> + +<p>“Shake hands with Mac,” said the skipper by +way of introducing me to a tall and extremely good-looking +youth in a Cardigan jacket, duffel trousers, +and sea-boots, who rose with a smile of welcome as +we dropped down beside him. “Mac’s a Canuck, +like myself,” he went on, after asking me if I liked +my eggs “straight up” or “turned over,” and passing +the order on to a diminutive Cockney with a +comedian’s face, who came tripping in almost as +though wafted on the “smell o’ cooking” which<!-- Page 177 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +preceded him through the opened galley door.</p> + +<p>“Mac learned his sailoring on his dad’s yacht on +Lake Ontario, and I learned mine driving a ‘deep-seagoing’ +side-wheel tractor on a ranch in Alberta. +Only time I was ever afloat before I became a +‘Capt’in in the King’s Navee’ was on a raft on the +old Missouri, in Dakota; and that isn’t really being +afloat, you know, for ’bout one half the water of +that limpid stream is mud and the other half catfish. +A great pair of old salts, we two—hey, Mac?</p> + +<p>“And the rest of the crew’s no more ‘saline’ +than its ‘orfficers.’ That’s the way they say it, +ain’t it, Mac? Little ’Arry, the galley-slave, was a +knock-about artist in the London music-halls before +he ‘eard the sea a-callin’, and now he doesn’t ’eed +nothin’ else, do you, Harry? And you’ll hear the +sea a-callin’ that nice big breakfast of yours just as +soon as we get outside the Heads, won’t you, Harry? +And then you won’t ’eed nothin’ else for quite a +while. And so’ll Mac hear the sea a-calling his +breakfast, and so’ll I, and so’ll all the rest of us—every +mother’s son. It’s a fine lot of Jack Tars we +are, the whole bunch of us. Did I tell you that one +of my quartermasters is an ex-piano-tuner, and that +the other was a Salvation Army captain before he +entered the Senior Service for the duration? And +my Chief—that’s him you hear alternating between +tinkering and swearing at the engines on the other +side of that bulkhead you’re leaning against—owned +a motor-boat of his own before the War, and<!-- Page 178 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +appears to have divided his waking hours between +racing that and his stable of motor-cars? You can +tell he was a gentleman once by the fluency of his +cussing. He’s the only man I’ve met over here that +could give yours truly any kind of a run in dispensing +the pungent persiflage; but I had the advantage +of driving mules as a kid.</p> + +<p>“But cussing, though it helps with a lot of things, +doesn’t make a sailor, and the Chief’s no more of +a Jack Tar than me or Mac or Harry. Fact is, that +the only man aboard who ever made his living out +of the sea before the war is a fisherman from the +Hebrides; and even the glossary in the back of my +Bobbie Burns won’t translate his lingo. Two or +three times, when the sea has been kicking up a bit, +he has managed to tell us that no self-respecting +God-fearing sailor would be oot in such weather. +Possibly he’s been right; but, as none of us are +sailors, we don’t feel called on to pay much attention +to his ravings. Our duty is to harass any Huns +that encroach on our beat; and the fact that we’ve +had a modicum of success in that line proves you +don’t have to be a sailor to qualify for the job. +Which don’t mean, though,” he concluded with a +smile of sad resignation as he rose and reached for +his oil-skins, “that I don’t hope and pray that +I’ll develop the legs and stomach of a sailor before +the war’s over.”</p> + +<p>When breakfast was eaten, forward and aft, all +hands were piped on deck, and in less than ten<!-- Page 179 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +minutes M.L. —— was under way and threading +the winding channels of a cliff-begirt Firth to the +mist-masked waters of the North Sea.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>As I picked my way forward to the little +glassed-in cabin, which served the double purpose +of navigating-bridge and wheel-house, I told myself +that I was sure of two things—first, that the skipper, +by birth, breeding, residence, and probably +citizenship, was an American of Americans, and, +second, that the chances were he would not admit +that fact unless I “surprised him with the goods.” +An Englishman will often mistake a Canadian for +an American but a Yankee himself will rarely make +that error. I was sure of my man on a dozen +counts, and resolved to lay in figurative ambush +for him.</p> + +<p>I all but had him within the hour. We were clear +of the Heads, and the skipper, having turned over +to Mac, was trying to forget that imperious call o’ +the sea he had chaffed ’Arry about by showing me +round. He had explained the way a depth-charge +was released, and was just beginning to elaborate +on the functions of an old-fashioned lance-bomb.</p> + +<p>“Now this fellow,” he said, balancing the ungainly +contrivance and giving it a gingerly twirl +about his head, “is a good deal like the sixteen-pound +hammer which I used to throw at college.”</p> + +<p>Knowing that the hammer-throw was not a Canadian +event, I promptly cut in with “What college?”<!-- Page 180 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +“Minnesota,” he answered readily enough; +adding, as I began to grin: “A good many Canadians +go across there for the agricultural courses.” +I resolved to await a more favourable opportunity +before bringing my “charge” point-blank. It came +that afternoon, when I stood beside him on the +bridge as he bucked her through ten miles of slashing +head-sea, which had to be traversed to gain the +shelter of a land-locked bay beyond a jutting point, +where we were to lie up for the night. He was +telling me U-boat-chasing yarns in the patchy intervals +between the demands of <i>mal de mer</i> and +navigation, and one of them ended something like +this: “Old Fritz—just as we intended he should—caught +the reflection of the flame through his +upturned periscope and, thinking his shells had set +us afire, rose gleefully to gloat over his Hunnish +handiwork. Bing! I let him have it just like +that.”</p> + +<p>The motion with which he flung the lemon he had +been sucking as an antidote for sea-sickness could +not have been in the least suggestive of what really +happened; but that straight-from-the-shoulder, elbow-flirting, +right-off-the-ends-of-the-fingers action +was so like another motion with which I had long +been familiar, that, with a meaning side-squint, I +observed promptly:</p> + +<p>“So you add baseball to your other accomplishments, +do you? Did a bit of pitching, if I don’t +miss my guess? How long have you played?”<!-- Page 181 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Since I was a kid,” he admitted with a grin that +sat queerly on the waxy saffron of his sea-sick face. +“Yes, I even ‘tossed the pill’ at college—that is, +until a shoulder I knocked out trying to slide home +one day spoiled my wing.”</p> + +<p>I knew I had him the instant that first admission +left his lips. “Since the kids weren’t playing sand-lot +baseball in Canada twenty years ago,” I said, +ducking low to let the spray from a sea which had +just broken inboard blow over, “you might just as +well ’fess up and tell me which neck of the Mississippi +Valley you hail from. Just as one Yankee +to another,” I pressed, as his piercing eye turned on +me a look that seemed to bore right through and +run up and down my spine; “even as one Middle +Westerner to another, for I was born in Wisconsin +myself.”</p> + +<p>For an instant his lips hardened into a straight +line, and the flexed jaw-muscles stood out in white +lumps on either side; then his mouth softened into a +broadening grin, and a moment later he burst into +a ringing laugh.</p> + +<p>“Sure thing, old man, since you put it on ‘sectional’ +grounds, and since we’re going to be shipmates +for a week, and”—fetching me a thumping +wallop on the back—“since we both wear the same +uniform, anyhow, curly stripe and all, I’ll make a +clean breast of it. I was born in Kansas—got a +farm there, near a little burg called Stockton, to-day—and +was never out of the Middle West in my<!-- Page 182 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +life till I crossed over into Canada to enlist in the +first year of the war. I felt I had to get into the +show somehow, and the little old U.S.A. was hanging +fire so in the matter of coming in that I just +couldn’t wait. I’ll tell you the whole story when +we’re moored for the night.”</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I have never been able to recall my yarn with +D—— that evening without a hearty guffaw. A +rising barometer had cleared the grey smother of +mist from the sea, but a shift of the wind from +south-east to north-east exposed us to a blast which, +chilled at its fount in the frozen fjords of Norway, +knocked the bottom out of the thermometer and +filled the air with needle-like shafts of congealed +moisture that seemed to have been chipped from +the glassy steel dome of the now cloudless sky. +There was a filigree of frost masking the wheel-house +windows before the early winter night +clapped down its lid, and the men who went forward +to pass a line through the ring of the mooring-buoy +pawed the icy deck with their stiff-soled sea-boots +without making much more horizontal progress +than a squirrel treading its wheel.</p> + +<p>It would have been bracing enough if there had +been a cheery open fire, or at least a glowing little +sheet-iron stove, to thaw and dry out at, as there +is on most patrol craft, and even on many trawlers. +But in the particular type to which M.L. —— belonged +(the units of which are said to have been<!-- Page 183 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +built in fulfilment of a rush order given one winter +on the assumption that the War would be over before +the next) there was no refinements and few +comforts. Heating is not included among the latter: +the only stove in the boat being in the galley, +where the drying of wet togs in restricted quarters +is responsible for a queer but strangely familiar +taste to the pea-soup and Irish stew which you never +quite account for until you discover the line of +grease on the corner of the tail of your oilskin or +the toe of your sea-boot.</p> + +<p>The diminutive electric heaters are true to the +first part of their name rather than the last: that is +to say, while they are undeniably electric, it is +equally certain that they do not heat. There <i>is</i> a +certain amount of warmth in them, as I discovered +the time I scorched my blankets by taking one to bed +with me; but that is of use only when you can confine +it and apply locally, which is rarely practicable +in a small craft at sea, even when you have the time +for it.</p> + +<p>It will be readily understood, therefore, why on +a M.L., at sea in really wintry weather, the only +alternative to sitting up and being slowly but surely +chilled to the marrow is to doff wet togs as soon as +you come off watch, don dry ones, bolt your dinner, +and turn in. This is just what we had to do on +M.L. —— that night; for, besides the really intense +cold, a sea which came through the sky-light +of the little dining-cabin early in the afternoon had<!-- Page 184 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +drenched cushions and curtains, with enough left +over to form an inch or two of swashing swirl upon +the deck. Poor ’Arry, with the effects of the “call +o’ the sea” still showing in his hollow eyes and +pasty cheeks, was not in shape to do much either in +the way of “slicking up” or “snugging down”; +while the extent of his culinary effort was limited to +a kedgeree of half-boiled rice and pale canned +salmon, and a platter of eggs fried “straight up,” +according to D——’s order, with the yolks glaring +fish-eyedly at you from a smooth, waxy expanse of +congealed grease. D——, who was still somewhat +“introspective” himself, turned down the +“straightups” straightaway, bent a look that was +more grieved than angry on the forlorn ’Arry, and +then, rising shiveringly, started edging along over +the sodden divan toward his cabin door.</p> + +<p>“As principal medical officer of this ship,” he +said through chattering teeth, “I prescribe the only +treatment ever found to be efficacious in such circumstances +as the present—bunk, blankets, and +hot toddy.”</p> + +<p>There were two bunks in D——’s narrow cabin, +and it was not until we had turned into these—he in +the lower, I in the upper—that the mounting glow +of soul and body thawed the reserve which had +again threatened to grip him in the matter of +where he came from, and set his tongue wagging of +his life on the old home farm, and from that to a +sketchy but vivid recital of things that he had done,<!-- Page 185 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +and hoped still to do, as the skipper of a British +patrol boat. It is the vision that the memory of +that recital conjures up: D——, with a Balaclava +helmet pulled low over his ears, gesticulating excitedly +up to where I, the unblanketed portion of +my anatomy shrouded to the eyes in a wool duffel-coat, +leaned out over the edge of the bunk above—that +I can never dwell on without laughing outright.</p> + +<p>The story of the way in which it happened that +D—— came over to get into the game in the first +place did not differ greatly from those I have heard +from a score or more of young Americans who, +partly inspired by a sense of duty and partly lured +by the promise of adventure, sought service in the +British Army or Navy by passing themselves off as +Canadians. He had intended to enlist in the Army +at first; but when he found that six months or more +might elapse before he would be sent to the other +side, he crossed at his own expense on the chance of +avoiding the delay. At the end of a disappointing +month spent in trying to enlist in some unit that +had a reasonable expectation of going into active +service at once, the intervention of an old college +friend—an able young chemical engineer occupying +a prominent post in Munitions—secured him a sub-lieutenant’s +commission in the R.N.V.R. Although, +as he naïvely put it, the sea was no friend +of his, it appears that the M.L. game had proved +congenial from the outset: so much so, indeed, that<!-- Page 186 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +something like three years of service found him +with two decorations and innumerable mentions to +his credit, to say nothing of the reputation of being +one of the most resourceful, energetic and generally +useful men in a service in which all of those qualities +are taken more or less as a matter of course. +He had gone in as a Canadian for fear that he +might be turned down as a Yankee, and then, to +use his own words: “By the time the U.S.A. began +to take a hand, I had told so many darn lies about +hunting and fishing and farming in Alberta and +British Columbia that I concluded it would be less +trouble to go on telling them than to start in denying +them. The boundary between Canada and the +U.S.A. is more or less of an imaginary line, anyhow, +and so is that between the average Yankee and +Canuck. I reckon I’ve made it just as hot for the +Hun as the latter as I would have as the former, +and that’s really the only thing that counts at this +stage of the game.” It was this last observation, I +believe, which started D—— talking of his work.</p> + +<p>“Generally speaking,” he said, reaching up the +match with which he had just lighted a cigarette to +rekindle the tobacco in my expiring pipe, “the +rôle of the M.L. is very much more defensive than +it is offensive. It is supposed to police certain +waters, watch for U-boats, report them when +sighted, and then carry on as best it can till a destroyer, +or sloop, or some craft with a real punch in +it, comes up and takes over. Well, my idea from<!-- Page 187 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +the first has been to make that ‘defensive’ just as +‘offensive’ as possible, and it’s really astonishing +how obnoxious some of us have been able to make +ourselves to the Hun. Off-hand, since, with his +heavier guns, the average Hun is more than a +match for us even on the surface, there wouldn’t +seem much that we could do against him beyond +running and telling one of our big brothers. The +perfecting of the depth-charge gave us one very +formidable weapon, however, and that of the lance-bomb +another, though the days when Fritz was +tame and gullible enough to allow himself to be +enticed sufficiently near to permit the use of the +latter are long gone by. The most satisfying job +I ever did, though, was pulled off with a lance-bomb; +and, since there is not one chance in a thousand +of our ever getting away with the same kind +of stunt again, there ought to be no kick on my telling +you just how it happened.</p> + +<p>“You see,” he went on, pulling a big furry-backed +mitten on the hand most exposed to the cold +in gesticulation, and tucking the fingers of the other +inside the neck of the Balaclava for warmth, +“Fritz is an animal of more or less fixed habits, +and so the best way to hunt him, like any other +animal, is to begin by making a study of his little +ways. I specialised on this for some months, confining +myself almost entirely to what he did in +attacking, or when being attacked by, M.L.s, and +ignoring his tactics with sloops, trawlers, and other<!-- Page 188 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +light craft. It wasn’t long before I discovered that +his almost invariable practice—when it was a matter +of only himself and a M.L.—was to get the +latter’s range as quickly as possible, endeavour to +knock it out, or at least set it afire, by a few hurried +shots, and then to submerge and make an approach +under water for the purpose of making a closer +inspection of the damage inflicted. In this way the +danger of a hit from the M.L.’s gun was reduced to +a minimum—an important consideration, as a +holing by even a light shell might well make it +impossible to submerge again. And a U-boat incapable +of seeking safety in the depths is, in any +part of the North Sea where it would have been +likely to meet a M.L., just as good as done for.</p> + +<p>“I also found that when explosions had taken +place in the M.L., or when it was heavily afire by +the time the U-boat drew near, it was the practice +of the latter to come boldly up and finish the good +work at leisure, with the addition of any of the +inimitable little Hunnisms—such as firing on the +boats, or ramming them, or running at full speed +back and forth among the wreckage so as to give +the screws a good chance to chop up the swimming +survivors—of which <i>Unterseeboot</i> skippers were +even then becoming past masters.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a name="DEPTHCHARGE" id="DEPTHCHARGE"><img src="images/illo09.jpg" + alt="A DEPTH CHARGE" style="border:0" title="A DEPTH CHARGE" + height="347" width="600" /></a> +</div> +<h4>A DEPTH CHARGE</h4> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a name="TOW" id="TOW"><img src="images/illo10.jpg" alt="DISABLED DESTROYER IN TOW" + style="border:0" title="DISABLED DESTROYER IN TOW" + height="418" width="600" /></a> +</div> +<h4>DISABLED DESTROYER IN TOW</h4> + +<p>“In short,” here D—— paused for a moment +while he lifted the little electric heater and lighted +a fresh cigarette on one of the glowing bars, “in +short, I studied the vermin in just the same way I +did the gophers and prairie-dogs when I started to<!-- Page 189 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +exterminate them on my Kansas farm. I found out +when they were most likely to come up, when to +stay down; what things attracted them, and what +repelled. Then I went after them. Of course, there +was no chance for the clean sweep I made of the +gophers and prairie-dogs, but we’ve still managed +to keep our own little section of the beat pretty +clear.</p> + +<p>“Having satisfied myself regarding the Hun’s +penchant for stealing up, submerged, to gloat over +the dying agonies of his victim, it seemed to me that +the obvious thing to do was to lead him on with an +imitation death-agony, and then have a proper surprise +waiting for him when he came up to gloat. +The first thing I started working on was how to +‘burn up’ and ‘blow up’ with sufficient realism to +deceive the skipper of a submerged U-boat, and still +be in shape to spring an effective surprise if he +could be tempted into laying himself open to it.</p> + +<p>“My first plan proved too primitive by far. I +reckoned that the ‘blowing-up’ touch might be provided +by dropping a depth-charge, and that of +‘burning up’ by playing my searchlight on the +surface of the water on the side the approach was +to be expected from. Neither was good enough. +The ‘can’ might have been set to explode on the +surface, but that could not be affected without running +the chance of blowing in my own stern. But +the bing of a depth-charge detonating well under<!-- Page 190 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +the water is quite unmistakable, and the first U-boat +I tried to lure with one made off forthwith, +plainly under the impression that it was the object +of an active attack. As for the searchlight, I saw +that it wouldn’t do the first time I went down and +took a peep at a trial of it through the periscope of +one of our own submarines. The beam did cast +a patch of brightness discernible through the upturned +‘eye’ at a depth of from sixty to eighty +feet, but it was neither red enough nor fluttery +enough to suggest anything like a burning ship. I +set to work to devise something more life-like, without +ever waiting for a chance to draw a Fritz +with it.</p> + +<p>“First and last, I tried a goodly variety of ‘fire’ +experiments,” D—— continued, snuggling down for +a moment with both arms under the blankets, “and +I don’t mind admitting that I’d like to have a few +of ’em, smoke and all, flaming up all over this +refrigerator right now. The thing I finally decided +to try consisted of nothing more than a light, shallow +tank of ordinary kerosene—paraffin oil, I believe +they call it here—made fast to a small, +roughly built raft. The <i>modus operandi</i> was as +simple as the contrivance itself. As soon as a U-boat +was sighted, the raft was to be launched on the +<i>opposite</i> side, and kept about thirty feet out by +means of a light boom. The next move was to be +up to Fritz, and it was fairly certain he would do +one of two things—submerge and make off, or remain<!-- Page 191 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +on the surface and begin to shell us. In the +latter case we were to start firing in reply, of +course; but that was only incidental to the main +plan. This was to wait until we were hit, or, preferably, +until he fired an ‘over,’ the fall of which, +on account of his low platform, he could not spot +accurately, and then to fire the tank of kerosene. A +line to a trigger, rigged to explode a percussion-cap, +made it possible to do this from the rail. As +the flames, besides giving off a lot of smoke, would +themselves leap high enough to be seen from the +other side, it was reasonable to suppose that Fritz +would be deluded into thinking we were burning +up, and make his approach a good deal more carelessly +than otherwise. If he persisted in closing +us on the surface, there would be nothing to it but +to make what fight we could with our fo’c’sl’ gun, +and try to make it so hot for him that he would have +to go down before his heavier shells had done for +us. But if, following his usual procedure, he made +his approach submerged, then there were two or +three other little optical and aural illusions prepared +for his benefit. I will tell you of these in describing +how we actually used them.”</p> + +<p>D—— lay quiet for a minute, the wrinkles of a +baleful grin of reminiscence showing on both sides +of the aperture of the Balaclava. “The first chance +we had to try the thing out it nearly did us in,” he +chuckled presently. “No, Fritz had nothing to do +with it. <i>He</i>, luckily for us, submerged and beat it<!-- Page 192 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +off after firing three or four shots—probably +through mistaking the smoke of a couple of trawlers +just under the horizon for that of destroyers. +It was all due to bad luck and bad judgment—principally +the latter, I’m afraid. It was bad luck to +the extent that the U-boat was sighted down to +leeward, so that there was no alternative but to put +over my ‘fire-raft’ on the windward side. The bad +judgment came in through my underestimating the +force of the wind and the fierceness with which the +kerosene would burn when fanned by it. Scarcely +had it been touched off before there was a veritable +<i>Flammen-werfer</i> playing against thirty or forty +feet of the windward side, and in a way which made +it impossible for a man to venture there to cast off +the wire cables which moored the raft. As this +class of M.L.s have wooden hulls, you will readily +see that this was no joke.</p> + +<p>“The splash of the beam seas proved an efficacious +antidote, so far as the hull was concerned, +however; but how some other highly inflammable +material I was carrying ’midships escaped being +fired in the minute or more that I was swinging her +through sixteen points to bring the raft to the leeward +of her—— Well, I can only chalk that up to +the credit of the special Providence that is supposed +to intervene especially to save drunks and +fools. You can bet your life I never let myself be +tempted into making that break again, though it +involved a trying exercise of self-restraint when it<!-- Page 193 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +chanced that the very next Fritz I sighted also bore +down the wind.</p> + +<p>“The two or three U-boats which were sighted +in the course of the next five or six weeks ducked +under without firing a shot, and I was beginning to +think that perhaps they had somehow got wind of +my little plan and were taking no chances in playing +up to it. Then, one fine clear morning, up +bobs a Fritz about six thousand yards to windward, +and begins going through his part of the +show almost as though he was one of our own submarines +with which I had been rehearsing. His +firing at us was about as bad as mine at him; but +he finally lobbed one over that was close enough, +so I knew he couldn’t tell whether it was a hit or +not, and on that I touched off the fire-raft, which +was soon spouting up a fine pillar of flame and +smoke. To discourage his approach on the surface, +I kept up a brisk firing to give him the impression +that we were going to live up to British Navy traditions +by going down fighting, and to convince him +that it would be much safer to close under water. +This came off quite according to plan, and presently +I saw the loom of his conning-tower dissolve +and disappear behind the spout of one of our +shells, which looked to have been a very close +thing.</p> + +<p>“I stood on at a speed of five or six knots, but +on a course which I reckoned he would anticipate +and allow for. When I figured that he was not<!-- Page 194 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +over a mile away, I dropped a float over the stern +with a time-bomb attached to it, the detonation of +which in this way I had found by experiment to +furnish a much more life-like imitation of an internal +explosion in a ship—when heard in hydrophones, +I mean—than that of a depth-charge. The +periscope which was shortly poked cautiously up +for a tentative ‘look-see’ could not, I am pretty +nearly dead certain, have revealed anything to belie +the impression I had laid myself out to convey—that +M.L. —— was an explosion-riven, burning, +and even already, probably a sinking ship. Besides +the gay gush of flames from the fire-raft, which must +have appeared to be roaring amidships, lurid +tongues of fire were also spouting out of the forrard +and after hatches, and from several of the ports; +while a thirty-degree list to starboard might well +have indicated that she was about to heel over and +go down. I had looked at her that way from a +periscope myself, while I was studying the effect of +some ‘stage property’ flares in comparison with +ordinary gasoline ‘blow-torches,’ and knew how +much she looked like the real thing even when you +knew she wasn’t. The list? Oh, that was a very +simple matter. This class of M.L.s is never on an +even keel for long, anyhow, and the installation of +a couple of tanks made it possible to pump water +back and forth and give her any heel we wanted. +We put her almost on her beam ends when we were +experimenting on the thing, and without upsetting<!-- Page 195 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +things much outside of the galley, which we had +neglected to warn of what devilry was afoot.</p> + +<p>“If we didn’t look helpless and harmless enough +for any Fritz to run right up alongside and ‘gloat +over,’ I’ll eat my hat; and that was what I was +counting on this fellow doing. Indeed, I’ll always +think that was just what he <i>did</i> intend to do eventually; +only it was the way he went about doing it +that was near to upsetting the apple-cart. It +seemed reasonable to suppose that he would come +up and do his gloating on the side he approached +from, and so that was the side I had prepared to +receive him on. The heavy list she was under to +starboard would have made it possible to bring the +gun to bear on him until he was almost under the +rail, and then there would be a chance for a lance-bomb. +If he came up on the other side by any +chance, I had figured that the game would be all +up; for there was the fire-raft to give it away, +while the list would be on the wrong slant to give +the gun a show. Well, whether it was accident or +intent, that is just what he did—broached abeam to +port, about half a cable’s length off the sizzling +tank of flaming kerosene.</p> + +<p>“That next minute or two” (D—— sat up in bed +in the excitement of the memory of that stirring interval, +and I felt one of his gesticulating fists +come with a thump against the bottom of my mattress) +“called for some of the quickest thinking +and acting I was ever responsible for pulling off.<!-- Page 196 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +If he stayed up, it flashed to my mind, there was +just the chance I might ram him; while if he ducked +down, there would probably be a good opening for +a depth-charge. I rang up full speed at the same +time I was shouting orders to cast off the fire-raft, +and to bash in one end of the starboard ‘tilting-tank’ +with an axe. We had considered the possibility +of this emergency arising, as much as we +hoped it wouldn’t, so that no time was lost in +meeting it. The fire-raft, boom and all, was cast +off clean, and quickly left astern. In scarcely less +time was the tank emptied, though the sudden flood +from it—it was on the upper deck, understand—came +very near to carrying overboard the man who +broached it. With motors, of course, we were running +all out in ‘two jerks,’ and she was doing several +knots over twenty when, with helm hard-a-starboard, +she began rounding on the startled +Fritz.</p> + +<p>“There was no doubt about the fact that he <i>was</i> +startled, let me tell you. And, when you think of +it, it must have been a trifle disconcerting to see +the blown-up and burning boat he had come up to +gloat over, and perhaps loot before she went down, +suddenly settle back on an even keel and come +charging down on him at twenty-five knots. The +‘moony’ fat phizes that showed above the rail of +the bridge were pop-eyed with surprise—yes—and +indecision, too, for there were several valuable seconds +lost in deciding whether to come on up—she<!-- Page 197 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +had risen to the surface with only an ‘awash’ +trim—and make a fight with her gun, or to dive.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think it would have made a great deal +of difference in his own fate which he did, but you +can bet it made a lot of difference to me. I don’t +mind telling you that I was never gladder about +anything in my life—at least anything since the +rain that came at the end of a three-months’ +drought to save my corn-crop a few years back—than +when those moon-faces went into eclipse and +I saw him begin to submerge. Although it had +never formed a part of any plan I had ever worked +out, I give you my word that I fully intended to +ram him, and that would have meant—well, about +the same thing as one airplane charging into +another. I should almost certainly have finished +him, while at the same operation—but I don’t need +to tell you that a match-box like this was never +made for bull-at-a-gate tactics. I’ve never heard of +one of this class of M.L.s getting home with a good +square butt at a U-boat, and I’m very happy to +say that it didn’t happen on this occasion. I don’t +think that we even so much as grazed his ‘jump-string’; +but the whole length of him was in plain +sight sloping away from his surface swirl, and it +was easy as picking ripe pippins to plant an ‘ash-can’ +just where it was needed. The only aggravating +thing about it was that, although oil came boiling +up in floods for three days, there was never a +Hun, nor even an unmistakable fragment of U-boat<!-- Page 198 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +wreckage, picked up as a souvenir. There was +never any doubt about the sinking, however, for +the trawlers located the wreck on the bottom with +a sweep, and gave it a few more ‘cans’ for luck.</p> + +<p>“But the best evidence in my own mind,” concluded +D——, pulling the blankets up higher over +his shoulders as he settled back into the bunk, “is +the fact that, six weeks later, the identical stunt I +had tried this time actually lured another Fritz +up to eat out of my hand almost exactly as I had +been planning for. Now, if that first one had really +survived and been able to return to base, it is certain +that its skipper would have told what he saw, +and that there would have been a general order +(such as came out some months later when they +finally did twig the game) warning all U-boats +against coming up to gloat at close range over +burning M.L.s. The fact that this second one was +such easy picking proves beyond a doubt that the +other never got back.”</p> + +<p>“That last was the one you ‘threw the hammer’ +at, wasn’t it?” I asked, leaning far out to make my +words carry down to D——’s now blanket-muffled +ears.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” came the wool-dulled answer. “Tell you +some other night. Gotta get warm now. Toddy +can’s empty. Make a tent of the blankets with your +knees, and take the electric heater to bed in it, if +you can’t stop shivering any other way. Good +night.”</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><!-- Page 199 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>“Q”</h3> + + +<p>At three miles, as seen from the bridge of the +battleship, the small craft which was steering +a course that would bring her across our +bows in the course of the next few minutes was +absolutely nondescript, completely defying classification. +A mile closer, however, it appeared to be +as plain as day that she was some ancient fishing +boat, but bluffer of bow and broader of beam than +the oldest of trawlers or drifters in the service. It +was only when she was right ahead, and but six or +eight cables’ lengths distant, that a vagrant sun-patch +came dancing along the leaden waters beyond +her to form a scintillant background against which +she stood out as what she was—the sweetest-lined +little steam yacht that ever split a wave. The fishing-boat +effect had been obtained by a simple +arrangement of colours which effectually clipped +the clippiness from her clipper bows and equally +effectually discounted the graceful overhang of her +counter.</p> + +<p>In plain words, they had blocked in the lines of a +bluff, squatty tug on her hull with some kind of +paint that was very easy to see, and covered the<!-- Page 200 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +rest of her with a paint that was very hard to see. +A few changes in rig, and the alteration was complete.</p> + +<p>“Quite the cleverest and simplest bit of camouflage +I ever saw,” said the captain, lowering his +binoculars. “It’s only the fact that we’re looking +down on her from a considerable height against +that bright sheet of water that gives a chance to +follow her real lines at all. From the deck—and +even more so from the bridge of a submarine, or +through its periscope—it would be a lot easier to +tell what she <i>isn’t</i> than what she <i>is</i>. As a matter +of fact, I can’t say that I know what she is even +now. It is evident that she <i>was</i> a yacht, and no +end of a beauty at that. But now, in that guise—probably +some sort of patrol or anti-U-boat worker, +for a guess, perhaps a ‘Q.’”</p> + +<p>The officer of the watch turned aside for a moment +from the gyro across which he had been sighting. +“I think she must be the ‘——,’ sir,” he said. +“Some American millionaire had her in the Mediterranean, +and, wanting to do his bit, brought her +up to Portsmouth and turned her over to the Admiralty +to do what they wanted with her so long +as it would help to lick the Hun. She’s been mixed +up in several kinds of stunts, and is supposed to +have a U-boat or two to her credit. Her present +skipper’s a Yank who came to her from a M.L. +They say he’s no end of a character, but right as +rain on his job and with a natural nose for trouble.<!-- Page 201 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +One of his hobbies is making his ship look what +she isn’t, and, in order to see her as she would appear +to a U-boat, he goes out and studies her +through the periscope of one of our own submarines. +When one of these isn’t handy, he sometimes +goes out in a whaler and studies her through +a stubby periscope poked over its gunwale. He +got blown right out to sea one night when he was +making some experiment from a whaler in ‘moonlight +visibility,’ and didn’t get back till the next +morning. It had no effect on his enthusiasm, +though, for he was out on the same stunt the next +night. No question about his nerve, nor his luck, +nor his skill, for that matter. Smart seamanship +probably has as much to do with the fact that he +has never been torpedoed as has his fancy camouflage.”</p> + +<p>I made up my mind at once that here was a man +worth meeting and hearing the story of, but as the +only base he seemed to have was not easy to reach, +and as his ship was reported at sea on the only +occasions I was free to go there, some weeks went +by before I was able to carry out my plan of paying +him a visit. Then, one morning, a nondescript +craft, which might have been anything from a +wood-pile to a Chinese junk half a mile away, came +nosing inconsequentially through the lines of the +Grand Fleet and moored alongside the very battleship +in which I happened to be at that time.</p> + +<p>“K—— has come in with the ‘——’ to ‘swing<!-- Page 202 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +compasses,’” the navigating officer announced to +the ward-room. “He’s a ‘converted side-wheel +river ferry-boat’ this morning, or something of the +kind; and he’s going to get blown to sea in a ‘sudden +gale,’ or something of the kind; and he says +that, if anyone doesn’t believe it, to come aboard +and he’ll give ’em something to stimulate their +‘stolid British imaginations.’”</p> + +<p>As certain lockers of the “——” had not been +entirely looted of their age-mellowed treasure when +the yacht was dismantled for sterner service than +lounging about limpid Mediterranean harbours, +the doubters were, naturally, many; but it is pleasant +to be able to record that those who came to scoff +remained—to tea. Indeed, it was not until after +tea that I had a chance for a half-hour’s yarn alone +with K—— in the “banquet-hall-deserted” splendour +of the stripped saloon. It was then that he +told me how it was he chanced to “come across +and get into the game.”</p> + +<p>He used the latter expression several times, I +remember, and to no one that I can recall having +met, either on land or sea, was the grim work he +was doing more of a “game” than to this brave, +resourceful, devil-may-care Middle Westerner.</p> + +<p>“I had had a fair bit of experience in yachting +and boating during the last six or eight years before +the outbreak of the war,” he said, settling back at +ease in one of the two remaining lounging-chairs, +“and most of it has stood me in good stead at one<!-- Page 203 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> +time or another since I have been on the job over +here. I sailed a single sticker on Lake Michigan +for a number of seasons, and I used to run down +from my home in Lake Forest to business in Chicago +in my own motor-boat on and off during the +summer. It was what I knew of the latter which +got me on a ‘M.L.’ without any preliminary hanging +about when I first came over early in the war. +What I knew about sailing has been all to the good +almost every day I have been at sea, from the time +I lured on a U-boat by ringing up my ‘M.L.’ as +a disabled fishing-smack to the time when I had to +bring this poor little old girl into port under canvas +after I had knocked out her propellers with one +of her own depth-charges.” It was a fantastically +amusing tale, that last. “It was the culmination +of my experiments in scientific camouflage,” said +K——, with a baleful smile. “Up to that time +any contrivances to deceive the Hun were getting +more and more intricate right along; since then +they have tended more and more toward extreme +simplicity. It was this way, you see, that I happened +to work up to that depth-charge crescendo. +From the first I had been striving to give the U-boat +mixed impressions of me, especially on the +score of which way I was going. This, as I soon +found out from studying the thing in the proper +way, is much easier to do in the case of a man +whose observation is limited to a few feet above the +water than in the case of one who has a more lofty<!-- Page 204 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +coign of vantage to con from. That is to say, it’s +much easier to convey false impressions, especially +regarding your direction, to a man with his eye to +a periscope than to one in the foretop of a battleship, +to take the two extremes. Trying now one +thing and now another as I had more experience, +I found that where at first every shot fired at me +was directed ahead with a more or less approximate +allowance for the ship’s progress in that +direction, after a while they began to go oftener +and oftener astern, indicating they were confused +as to my rate of change. It was just as I was +about to put the crowning touch on my efforts in +‘mixing direction’ that the trouble occurred. As +the experiments with this particular contrivance +never went any further, there will hardly be any +harm in my telling you what it was and how it +worked.</p> + +<p>“I had already, with the aid of a couple of slanting +fins, attached something after the fashion of +bilge-keels, only just below the water-line on either +quarter, worked up a fairly satisfactory ‘bow +wave’ aft, and I was endeavouring to supplement +this by a scheme for making it appear as though +the sky was moving past her funnel in the direction +it wasn’t. You see, I was working on the same +principle which deceives you when you think the +standing train you are in is in motion when you +see the one on the next track start up.</p> + +<p>“As the U-boat skipper’s ‘look-see’ is often<!-- Page 205 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +limited to a hurried sort of a peep, I figured that if +I could contrive to keep a rather conspicuous imitation +sky of canvas running past the masts and +funnels in the same direction she was going, only +faster, it might create the illusion—in the distorted +‘worm’s eye’ vision of the man at the +periscope—that she was going in the opposite +direction. I studied some make-shift rigs from +water-level through a periscope, and made up my +mind the scheme was worth trying.”</p> + +<p>K—— relighted his cigar and resumed with a +sad smile.</p> + +<p>“I still think the idea was good,” he said, “but +it took too complicated an installation to carry it +out, especially on a small craft with a low freeboard. +There were gearings and transmissions and +rollers, and heavens knows what not, needed to +make the endless strip of canvas ‘sky’ run +smoothly, and there were also many wires and +ropes. It was one or the other of the latter which +was responsible for the disaster, for while the thing +was still in the ‘advanced experimental’ stage a +U-boat popped up close by one day—probably a +bold attempt on its skipper’s part to see if he +really saw what he thought he had seen—and I +spun the ‘——’ around on her tail (one of the nice +things about her is that she will turn in a smaller +circle than most destroyers) and tried, first choice, +to ram him, and, second choice, to drop a depth-charge +down the hole he had ducked into. I was too<!-- Page 206 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +late to ram by a few seconds, and there must have +been a good fathom or two of clearance between my +keel and the conning-tower I had driven for. The +bridge and the two periscopes he had ‘turtle-necked’ +in showed clean and sharp in the clear +water as I leaned over the port side of the bridge—the +easiest chance a man ever had for kicking off +a ‘can’ just where it ought to go. As I turned to +the depth-charge release I already had visions of +him falling apart like a cracked egg, with bobbing +bubbles and howling Huns coming up to the surface +together. It was only a couple of days before +that I had picked up several British fishermen—all +that were left alive after a U-boat skipper had +vented his morning hate by shelling the boat in +which they were leaving their sinking trawler—and +I was still mad enough to want to ram Heligoland +if a chance had offered. I felt a kind of +savage joy in the chance to put that tin of T.N.T. +where it would wipe out a bit of the score I had +been checking up against the Hun, and I seemed +to see a sort of a Hand of Fate in the fist I was +reaching up to the handle of the release. It +couldn’t miss, I told myself, and—well, it didn’t.</p> + +<p>“The explosion ‘jolted’ at the proper interval +all right, but not in the proper place, nor in the +proper way. I was watching for the up-boil +squarely in the middle of the right-angling propeller +swirl of the submarine, but that was receding, +smooth and unbroken, when the crash came. The<!-- Page 207 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +fact is, I never did see the spout from that charge—for +the very good reason that it was tossed up +almost under the ‘——’s’ counter, where it +knocked off the blades of both propellers and all +but blew in her stern. The depth-charge had +fouled a trailing wire from some of my ‘stage +scenery sky’ and been dragged along to detonate +close astern. I saw her taffrail shiver and kick upwards, +and the shock was strong enough to upset +my balance even on the bridge. That last was the +first thing that made me sure something had +slipped up, for, ordinarily, the jolt from a properly +set ‘can’ is no more than that from a sharp bump +against the side of a quay. I mean the jolt as felt +on the bridge, of course; below, and especially in +the engine-room or stokehold, it is a good deal more +severe. It was the shattering jar of this one that +told me it had gone wrong, and then, when she +began to lose way and refuse to answer her helm—the +rudder had been knocked out, too, but not +enough so that it couldn’t be tinkered up to serve +temporarily—I knew it was something serious.</p> + +<p>“It was a good deal of a relief to find that, badly +buckled as some of the plates were, she wasn’t making +any more water aft than the pumps could easily +take care of. That was the first thing I looked +after, and the next was the U-boat; or rather, we +were looking out for both at the same time. If +there was one thing more than another that helped +to reconcile me to the double disappointment of<!-- Page 208 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +missing my crack at the Hun and knocking my own +ship out, it was the fact which soon became apparent, +that Fritz never knew about the latter. If +he <i>had</i> known the shape I was in, he could have +finished me off a dozen times over during the hour +or more the ‘——‘ was lying helpless, and before +the first armed trawler showed up in answer to my +S.O.S. Just why he didn’t, I could never make +quite sure, but the chances are it was one or both +of two things. It is quite possible that the biff +from the depth-charge—which must still have been +almost as near to him as it was to me when it exploded—may +have done the submarine really +serious injury, perhaps even sinking it. We never +found any evidence, however, that this had been +the case. Whether he was damaged or not, there is +no doubt that his close call gave him a bad scare. +There could have been nothing in the explosion to +tell him that it did any harm to his enemy, and, +since he did not have his periscope up, there was +no way he could see what had happened. Doubtless +expecting another ‘can’ any moment, and +knowing well that it would be only a matter of an +hour or two until there would be a lot more craft +joining in the chase, it is probable that he followed +the tactics which you can always count on a U-boat +following when it knows a hunt is on—that is, +to submerge deeply and lose no time in making itself +just as scarce as possible in the neighbourhood +where the hue-and-cry has started. That’s the only<!-- Page 209 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +way I can account for the fact that this particular +pirate didn’t have a revenge after his own Hunnish +heart. We were about evenly matched for guns +probably, and doubtless I would have had rather +better than an even break on that score, because a +surface craft can stand more holing than a submarine. +But there was nothing to prevent his +taking a sneaking sight through his periscope from +a safe distance and then slipping a mouldie at us, +which, helpless as we were for a while, there would +have been no way of avoiding. A moving ship of +almost any class, provided it has a gun to make +him keep his distance, has a good fighting chance +of saving herself from being torpedoed by the +proper use of her helm; a disabled ship, though +she has all the guns in the world, has no show if +the Fritz really thinks she’s worth wasting two or +three torpedoes on. If he has his nerve, and any +luck at all, he ought to finish the job with one.</p> + +<p>“So I think you’ll have to admit,” said K—— +with a whimsical smile, “that, under the circumstances +and considering what might have happened, +I felt that I had no legitimate kick coming in having +to take her home under sail. Fact is, I considered +myself in luck to have a ship to take home +at all. The rudder, luckily, though a good deal +bent and twisted, had not been blown away. It +took a lot of nursing to turn it, and, when we finally +got her off under mainsail, forestaysail and jib, +the eccentricities it developed took a lot of getting<!-- Page 210 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +used to. Although it was quite fortuitous on our +part, the course we steered during the thirty hours +we put in returning to base was the most complex +and baffling lot of zigzagging I ever had anything to +do with. If a U-boat skipper lying in wait for us +could have told what she was going to do next, I +can only say that he would have known a lot more +than I did.</p> + +<p>“At the end of an hour or two a couple of trawlers +hove in sight and closed us to be of what help +they could in screening. They made a very brave +show of it until we got under weigh, and then they +were led just about the wooziest dance you ever +heard tell of. By a lucky chance, for me, not for +the trawlers, there was a spanking breeze on the +port quarter (for the mean course to base, I mean); +and it wasn’t long before the little old girl, even +under the comparatively light spread of sail on +her, was slipping away at close to nine miles an +hour. That won’t surprise you if you noticed the +lines of her. I’ve turned back in her log and found +where she’s run for thirty-six hours at fourteen +miles, even with the drag of her screws, which always +knock a knot or two off the sailing speed of +a yacht with auxiliary power.</p> + +<p>“Well, that nine miles an hour was a good bit +better than those trawlers could do under forced +draught, and after falling astern for a while, they +started to catch up by shortening their courses by +cutting my zigzags. That was where the fun came<!-- Page 211 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +in. It would have been easy enough if I had been +zigzagging according to Hoyle. But where I didn’t +know myself just what she was going to do next, +how was I going to signal it to them, will you tell +me? About every other time that they tried to +anticipate my course they guessed wrong, and were +worse off than before as a consequence. They +must have been a very thankful pair when one of +the two destroyers which finally came up took them +off to hunt the submarine. The other destroyer +stood by to escort me in. Her skipper offered me +a tow, but I was anxious to save face as much as +possible by returning on my own, and so declined. +In case of an attack it would have been better to +have him screening than towing anyhow. In the +end, when we got in to where the sea room was restricted, +I was glad to take a hawser from a tug +they sent to meet me to keep from putting her on +the mud.</p> + +<p>“You may well believe that effectually put an +end to my experiments with ‘movable sky,’ and +other similar mechanical complexities,” K—— continued +with a laugh. “Indeed, from that time on +I have been inclining more and more to simpler +things, rig outs that are sufficiently free from +wheels within wheels to leave the mind clear for +the real work in hand, which, after all, is putting +down the Hun, not merely deceiving him as to what +you are. You see how simple a setting our present +one is; yet it is very complete in its way, and I<!-- Page 212 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +have reasonable hopes of success with it. No, I can +hardly tell you just what I am driving at with it, +or just how I am going to go about it. In a month +or two, when its possibilities have been exhausted +and it has become a wash-out perhaps I shall be a +bit freer to talk about it.</p> + +<p>“Come and spend a day or two with me at the +end of about six weeks, when my present round of +stunting will probably be over, and I’ll tell you +all the ‘Q’ yarns that the law allows. The Hun +is dead wise to the game on principle, so there can’t +be any point in keeping mum any longer on stunts +that he’s twigged a year or so ago, and which you’d +have about as much chance of taking him in with +as you’d have in trying to sell a gold brick on +Broadway.”</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Three months went by before I was able to take +advantage of K——’s invitation to pay him a visit +at what he had called his “business headquarters,” +and as I had naturally expected that she would have +played many and diverse parts in the interim, it +was with some surprise that I found the “——” +still “dressed” as she had been when I last saw +her.</p> + +<p>“We’ve never quite been able to pull it off,” +K—— explained, “and the waiting, and the not-quites +and the might-have-beens have given me no +end of a dose of that kind of hope deferred which +maketh the heart sick. But we’ve at least been<!-- Page 213 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +lucky enough not to queer the game by showing our +hand, so that there’s still as good a chance as ever +to make good with it under favourable circumstances. +For that reason, the less we say about it +for the present the better. That’s in regard to +this particular stunt, I mean. As for the rest of the +‘Q’ stuff that we’ve brought off, or tried to bring +off, during the last three years—I’m at your service +to-night after dinner. The Germans have been +publishing accounts of some of the stunts, under +the title of ‘British Atrocities,’ for some months +now, but as there are slight variations from the +truth here and there, you may still be interested +in getting some of the details a bit nearer the original +fount.</p> + +<p>“They claimed, for instance, that when one of +their ‘heroic’ U-boats ran alongside an armed +British patrol boat, which had surrendered to it, +to transfer a boarding-party, an officer of the +M.L. rushed on deck and threw down on the deck +of the submarine what the skipper of the latter took +to be a packet of secret books, and that this +‘packet,’ exploding, eventually resulted in the +sinking of the guileless German craft. Now, about +the only thing which is correct about that account +is the statement that a U-boat was sunk. It wasn’t +an armed M.L. that surrendered to Herr Ober-Lootenant—armed +M.L.’s don’t do that sort of +thing, take my word for it—but an unarmed, or +practically unarmed, pleasure yacht, which had<!-- Page 214 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +apparently become disabled and blown to sea. +And the trusting U-boat did not come alongside to +put aboard a prize crew to navigate its captive to +a German port as they’d try to make you believe, +but only to sink it with bombs placed in the hold, +so as to save shells or a torpedo. And it wasn’t a +packet of secret books that put the pirate down, +but a ‘baby,’ and <i>my</i> baby at that. No, I don’t +mean that I threw a real child of mine to Moloch—I +haven’t any to throw—but only that the idea of +this literal <i>enfant terrible</i>, with a percussion cap +on the top of his head and a can of T.N.T. for a +body, originated under my hat.</p> + +<p>“It’s not surprising that the Huns didn’t get +the thing straight at first, though I believe one of +their later versions does have a child in the cast, +for none of the Germans present have yet returned +to tell just what happened. About half of them +never will see their beloved ‘Vodderland’ again, +and I don’t mind telling you that I’m not wearing +any crepe on my sleeve on that account, either. +Do you know”—K——’s face flushed red and his +brow contracted in the anger the thought aroused—“that +those —— pirates were going right ahead +to sink what they thought was nothing but a pleasure +yacht, with a number of women and children +in it, although it was plain as day to them that +the one boat carried would founder under a quarter +of our number? That’s your Hun every time, and +it was just that insensate lust of his to murder<!-- Page 215 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +anything helpless that I reckoned on in baiting my +trap. I felt dead certain—— But I’ll tell you the +whole yarn this evening.”</p> + +<p>Several bits of salvage from the “——’s” pleasure-yacht +days figured in the little feast K—— had +spread that evening, and I remember particularly +that the Angostura was from a bottle Commodore +P—— had himself secured at the time +when that incomparable bitter was distilled in a +little ramshackle pile-built factory at Ciudad Bolivar, +on the upper Orinoco. And the coffee that +same genial <i>bon vivant</i> had had blended and sealed +in glass by an old Arab merchant at Aden, while +the Benedictine had cost him a climb on foot +through an infernally hot August afternoon to an +ancient monastery inland of Naples. It was between +sips of Benedictine—from a priceless little +Morning Glory-shaped curl of Phœnician glass, +picked up in Antioch one winter by the owner, and +overlooked in the “stripping” operations—that +K—— told me the story of the first of what he +called his “Q-rious” operations.</p> + +<p>“There was a story attached to just about every +little package of food and drink P—— left in the +yacht,” said K——, unrolling the gold foil from a +cigar whose band bore the name of a Piñar del Rio +factory which is famed as accepting no order save +from its small but highly select list of private customers +in various parts of the world; “and in the +several letters he has written begging me to make<!-- Page 216 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +free with them he has told me most of the yarns. +The consequence was that, while the good things +lasted—they’re most of them finished now—I was +getting in the way of enjoying eating and drinking +them, telling where they came from and how they +were come by, just about as much as good old P—— himself +must have done. In fact, I think that their +possible loss was about my worst worry when I +tried my first ‘Q’ stunt on.</p> + +<p>“The success of any kind of stunt for harrying +the U-boat is very largely a matter of psychology, +and this is especially so in the ‘Q’ department. +The main point of it is to make the enemy think +you are more harmless than you really are. There +is nothing new in the idea, for it is precisely the +same stunt the old pirate of the Caribbean was on +when he concealed his gun-ports with strips of canvas +and approached his victims as a peaceful merchantman. +As a matter of fact, I think it was the +Hun himself who started the game in this war, for +I’m almost dead sure that we had tried nothing +of the kind on—in a systematic way, at any rate—up +to the time one of his U-boats rigged up a mast +and sails and lured on victims by posing as a +fisherman in distress.</p> + +<p>“Obviously, it’s a game you can’t use any kind +of craft that is plainly a warship in, and the burning +question always is as to how far you will +sacrifice punishing power to harmlessness of appearance. +A light gun or two is about as far as you<!-- Page 217 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> +can go in the way of shooting-irons, and even these +are very difficult to conceal on a small boat. Likewise +a torpedo tube. I tried that first stunt of +mine without either, and that’s where the psychology +came in.</p> + +<p>“Most of the ‘Q-boats’ they were figuring on at +that time were of the slower freighter type, with +a rather powerful gun mounted for’ard and concealed +as well as possible by something rigged up +to look like deck cargo.</p> + +<p>“That was, however, all well and good as far +as it went, I figured, but, from such study of the +Hun’s little ways as I had been able to make, I had +my doubts as to whether an old cargo boat would +prove tempting enough bait to put a Fritz in the +proper mental state for a real ‘rise’—one in which +he’d deliver himself up to you bound and gagged, so +to speak. <i>That</i> was the kind of a thing I wanted +to make a bid for, and, by cracky, I pulled it off.</p> + +<p>“From all I could pick up, from the inside and +outside, about the ships that had already been torpedoed, +I came to the conclusion that the Hun +would go to a lot more trouble, and take a deal +bigger chance, to put down a vessel with a number +of passengers than he would with a freighter. And +even that early in the War a U-boat had exposed +itself to being rammed by a destroyer, when it +could have avoided the attack entirely by foregoing +the pleasure of a Parthian shot at a lifeboat which +was already half-swamped in the heavy seas. <i>That</i><!-- Page 218 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +was the little trait of the Hun’s that I reckoned on +playing up to when I began to figure on taking the +‘——’ out U-boat strafing without any gun larger +than a Maxim aboard her. I’d have been glad +enough of a good four-incher, understand, if there +had been any way in the world it could have been +concealed. But there wasn’t, and rather than miss +getting into the game at all, I was quite content to +tackle it with such weapons as were available. +That was where my ‘che-ild’ came in.</p> + +<p>“On the score of weapons available, there were +only two—the lance-bomb and the depth-charge. +For the kind of game I had in mind, it was to the +former that I pinned my faith. It was powerful +enough to do all the damage needful to the shell +of a submarine if only a chance to get home with +it could be contrived. ‘Getting it home’ has always +been the great difficulty with the lance-bomb, +and up to that time the only chap to have any luck +with it was the skipper of a M.L.—another Yank, +by the way, who came over and got into the game +in the same way, and about the same time, that I +did. He had been the champion sixteen-pound +hammer-thrower in some Middle Western college +only a year or two before, and, by taking a double +turn on his heeling deck, managed to chuck the +bomb (which is on the end of a wooden handle, +much like the old throwing hammer) about three +times as far as anyone ever dreamed of, and cracked +in the nose of a lurking U-boat with it.<!-- Page 219 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Unluckily, I was not a hammer-thrower, and +so had to try to bring about an easier shot. It was +with this purpose in view that I submitted a proposal +to reconvert the ‘——’ temporarily to the +outward seeming of a pleasure yacht; to make her +appear so tempting a bait that the Hun’s lust for +<i>schrecklichkeit</i>, or whatever they call it, would lure +him close enough to give me a chance at him. +They were rather inclined to scoff at the plan at +first, principally on the ground that the enemy, +knowing that there was no pleasure yachting going +on in the North Sea, would instantly be suspicious +of a craft of that character. I pointed out that +there was still a bit of yachting going on in the +Norfolk Broads, which the Hun, with his comprehensive +knowledge of the East Coast, might well +know of, and that there would be nothing strange +in a craft from there being blown to sea in a spell +of nor’west weather. Of course, the ‘——’ isn’t +a Broads type by a long way, but I didn’t expect +the Hun to linger over fine distinctions any more +than the trout coming up for a fly does. The sequel +fully proved that I was right.</p> + +<p>“It was largely because the stunt I had in mind +promised to cost little more than a new coat of +paint and a few rehearsals, which could easily be +carried on in the course of our ordinary patrol +duties, that I finally received somewhat grudging +authorisation to go ahead with it. It was not till +the whole show was over that I learned from the<!-- Page 220 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> +laughing admission of the officer who helped secure +that authorization, that the fact that the output +of real M.L.’s was becoming large enough so +that they were about independent of the use of +yachts and other pleasure craft for patrol work, +also had a good deal to do with the granting +of it.</p> + +<p>“I already had several well-trained machine-gunners +in the crew, so that about the only addition +I had to make to the ship’s company was a +half-dozen boys to masquerade as ladies. As they +were not meant to stand inspection at close range, +nothing elaborate in the way of costume or makeup +was necessary. They wore middy jackets, with +short duck skirts, which gave them plenty of liberty +of action. Most of them (as there was nothing +much below the waist going to show anyway) simply +rolled up their sailor breeches and went barelegged, +and one who went in for white stockings and +tennis shoes was considered rather a swanker. +Their millinery was somewhat variegated, the only +thing in common to the motley units of head-gear +being conspicuousness. There was a much beribboned +broad-brimmed straw, a droopy Panama, a +green and a purple motor veil, and a very chic +yachting effect in a converted cap of a lieutenant +of Marines with a red band round it. Less in keeping, +if more striking, was a Gainsborough, with +magenta ostrich plumes, a remnant from some +‘ship’ theatricals.<!-- Page 221 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Hair wasn’t a very important item, but they +all seemed to take so much pleasure in ‘coiffeuring’ +that I took good care not to discourage their +efforts in that direction. The spirit that you enter +that kind of a game in makes all the difference in +the world in its success, and these lads—and, indeed, +the whole lot of us—were like children playing +house. All of them were blondes—even a boy +born in Durban, who had more than a touch of the +‘tar brush,’ and one—a roly-poly young Scot, who +had made himself a pair of tawny braids from rope +ravellings—looked like a cross between ‘Brunnhilde’ +and ‘The Viking’s Daughter.’</p> + +<p>“It was only during rehearsals, of course, that +these lads were ‘ladies of leisure.’ The rest of the +time I kept them on brass polishing and deck-scrubbing, +with the result that the little old ‘——’ +regained, outwardly at least, much of her pristine +ship-shapiness. The ‘gentlemen friends’ of the +‘ladies’ were even more of a ‘make-ship’ product +than the latter.</p> + +<p>“Indeed, they were really costumes rather than +individuals. I don’t mean that we used dummies, +but only that there were eight or ten flannel jackets +and boater hats laid ready, and these were to be +worn more or less indiscriminately by any of the +regular crew not on watch. Their rôle was simply +to loll on the quarterdeck with the ‘ladies’ while +the U-boat was sizing us up, then to join for a few +minutes in the ‘panic’ following the hoped-for<!-- Page 222 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +attack, and finally to beat it to their action stations.</p> + +<p>“That a ‘baby’ was by far the most effective +disguise for the first lance-bomb we hoped to chuck +home was obvious at the outset. Both of them +had heads, their general shapes (when dressed) +were not dissimilar, while the ‘long clothes’ of +the infant was found to have a real steadying effect +on the missile, on the same principle that ‘streamers’ +act to bring an air-bomb down nose-first. Of +course, a child in arms, like this one was to be, +wasn’t just the kind of thing one would take pleasure +yachting; but I knew the Huns took their nurslings +to beer gardens, and thought that that might +make them think that the Englanders—who were +incomprehensible folk anyhow—might take this +strange way of accustoming their young to the +waves which they sang so loudly of ruling.</p> + +<p>“The decisive consideration, however, was the +fact a baby was the only thing except a jewel-case +that a panicky woman in fear of being torpedoed +would stick to. As you can’t get a lance-bomb +in a jewel-case, it was plainly ‘baby’ or nothing.</p> + +<p>“In the end, because I was afraid that none of +the feminine make-ups was quite good enough not +to awaken suspicion at close range—I decided that +the heaving over of the ‘baby’ should be done by +a ‘gentleman’ instead of by a ‘lady.’ As one of +the seamen put it, it was only ‘nateral that the<!-- Page 223 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +nipper’s daddy ’ud be lookin’ arter ’im in time of +danger,’ and I had read of sailors being entrusted +with children on sinking ships. The man I picked +for the job—the ‘father of the che-ild,’ as he soon +came to be called—was not the one who had proved +the best in distance throwing in the trials, but +rather one on whose cold-blooded nerve I knew I +could count in any extremity.</p> + +<p>“He was a Seaman Gunner, named R——, and +was lost a year ago when a rather desperate ‘Q’ +stunt he had volunteered for miscarried. He had +just the touch of the histrionic desirable for the intimate +little affair in question, and the way he +played his part fully justified my selecting him.”</p> + +<p>K—— leaned back in his chair and blew smoke +rings for a minute before resuming his story. +“There are some kind of stunts, like this one I’ve +been trying to bring off for the last two or three +months,” he said, “that always seem to hang fire; +and there are others where, from first to last, everything +comes up to the scratch on time, just like a +film drama. That first one I’m telling you about +was like that, everybody—even to the U-boat—coming +on to its cue. Indeed, when I think of it +now, the whole show seems more like a big movie +than anything else.</p> + +<p>“By the time we were letter perfect in our parts, +there came two or three days of just the kind of a +storm I wanted to make a good excuse for a dinky +little pleasure boat being out in the middle of the +North Sea. I took care, of course, to be ‘blown’<!-- Page 224 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +to the last position at which an enemy submarine +had been reported.</p> + +<p>“Then, where a destroyer or a M.L. might have +cruised round for a month without sighting anything +but fog and the smoke of some of our own +ships on the horizon, we picked up a Fritz running +brazenly on the surface the first morning. That +was first blood for my harmless appearance right +there, for he must have seen us some time previously +of course, and had we looked in the least warlike, +would have submerged before even our lookout +spotted his conning-tower.</p> + +<p>“As it was, he simply began closing us at full +speed, firing as he came. It was rotten shooting at +first, as shooting from the very poor platform a submarine +affords usually is, but, at about three thousand +yards, he put a shell through the fo’c’sl’, +luckily above the water-line. The next minute or +two was the most anxious time I had, for, if he +made up his mind to do it that way, there was +nothing to prevent his sticking off there and putting +us down with shell-fire.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps if the two or three shots which followed +had been hits, that is what he would have +done. It was probably his disgust at the fact that +they were all ‘overs’ that determined him to close +in and finish the job with bombs. Possibly, also, +the fact that I appeared to be starting to abandon +ship at this juncture convinced him finally that the +yacht had no fight in her, and it may well be that<!-- Page 225 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> +the temptation to loot had something to do with +his decision. I could never make quite sure on +those points, for Herr Skipper never confided what +was in his mind to the one officer who survived him. +At any rate, he came nosing nonchalantly in and +did just what I had been praying for the last month +he would do—poked right up alongside. The heavy +sea that had been running for the last two or three +days had gone down during the night, so that he +was able to stand in pretty close without running +much danger of bumping.</p> + +<p>“The extent of my abandoning ship had been to +follow the old sea rule of saving the women and +children first. Or rather, we put the women off in +our only boat; the baby, I won’t need to tell you, +was somehow ‘overlooked.’ The boat was lowered +in full view of the Hun, who was about fifteen +hundred yards distant at the moment, and there +was a little unrehearsed incident in connection +with it that must have done its part in convincing +him that what he was witnessing was a genuine +piece of ‘abandon.’ One of the girls—it was the +blonde ‘Brunnhilde,’ I believe—not wanting to miss +any of the fun, started to hang back and tried to +bluff them into letting her stay by swearing that +she’d rather face the Hun than desert her child. +As a matter of fact, the ‘Gainsborough’ had more +claim on the kid than ‘Brunnhilde,’ for she—I +mean he—had cadged its clothes from a sweetheart +who worked in a draper’s shop. If I had been there<!-- Page 226 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +personally, I’m afraid ‘Brunnhilde’s’ little bluff +would have won through, for a man whose wits are +keen enough to spring a joke at a crisis has always +made an especial appeal to me. To the bo’sun, +however, orders were orders, and his answer to +the recalcitrant blonde’s insubordination was to +rush her to the rail by the slack of her middy +jacket, and to help her over it with the toe of his +boot.</p> + +<p>“The ‘K——’s’ low freeboard made the drop a +short one, and, luckily, ‘Brunnhilde’ missed the +gun’nel’ of the whaler and landed gently in the +water, from where she was dragged by the ready +hands of her sisters a few moments later. They do +say, though, that she turned a complete flip-flop in +the air, and that there was a display of—well, if a +Goerz prism binocular won’t reveal the difference +between a pair of blue sailor’s breeches and French +lingerie at under a mile, all I can say is that we’ve +much overrated German optical glass. As I learned +later, however, the Huns, observing only the fall +and missing the revealing details, merely concluded +that the Englanders were jumping overboard +in panic, and dismissed their last lingering +doubts and suspicions.</p> + +<p>“The girls were already instructed that they +were to lie low and keep their peroxide curls out of +sight as long as they were within a mile or so of +the submarine, so as not to tempt the latter to follow +them up for a look-see at closer range. The<!-- Page 227 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +boat had orders to pull astern for a while, and then, +if the Hun was observed to come alongside the +‘——’ as hoped, to turn eight or ten points to port +and head up in the direction from which he had +appeared. The reason for this manœuvre, which +was carried out precisely as planned, you will +understand in a moment.</p> + +<p>“On came Fritz, coolly contemptuous, and on +went the show, like the unrolling of a movie scenario. +For a while I was fearful that he might order +back my boat to use in boarding me with, but as +soon as he was close enough to be sure that I had +no gun he must have decided so much trouble was +superfluous. He had only one gun, it was evident—the +gunners kept sweeping it back and forth to +cover from about the bridge to the engine-room as +they drew nearer—and presently I saw men, armed +with short rifles, coming up through both fore and +after hatches. Far from exhibiting any signs of +belligerency, I still kept three or four of my ’flannelled +fools’ mildly panicking. Or, rather, I +<i>ordered</i> them to panic mildly. As a matter of fact, +they did it rather violently—a good deal more like +movie rough stuff than the real thing.</p> + +<p>“Little difference it made to Fritz, though, who +seemed to take it quite as a matter of course that +the British yachtsman should show his terror like +a Wild West film drama heroine. On he stood, and +when he came within hailing distance, a burly +ruffian on the bridge—doubtless the skipper—shouted<!-- Page 228 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +something in guttural German-English +which I never quite made out, but which was probably +some kind of warning or other. I don’t think +I saw any of my crew exactly ‘Kamerading’, but +I needn’t tell you that every man in sight was doing +his best to register ‘troubled passivity’, or something +like that. I had anticipated that I might not +be in a position to signal his cue to R——, and so +had arranged that he should keep watch from a +cabin port, and to use his own judgment about the +time of his ‘entrance.’ I was afraid to have him on +deck all the time for fear the ‘che-ild’ might be subjected +to too careful a scrutiny. R—— was just in +flannels, understand, so there was nothing suspicious +in his own appearance. He did both his +play-acting and his real acting to perfection, neither +overdoing nor underdoing one or the other.</p> + +<p>“The U-boat was close alongside, rapidly easing +down under reversed propellers, before R—— appeared, +just as natural an anguished father with a +child as you could possibly ask for. Two or three +of the Huns covered him with their carbines as he +dashed out of the port door of the saloon—that +one just behind you—but lowered the muzzles +again when they saw it was apparently only a half-distracted +parent trying to signal for the boat to +come back for him and his babe. I have no doubt +that there were some very sarcastic remarks passed +on that U-boat at this juncture about the courage of +the English male. <i>If</i> there were, the next act of<!-- Page 229 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +the coolest and bravest boy I ever knew literally +forced the words down their throats.</p> + +<p>“The whaler which, following its instructions, +had been pulling easterly for some minutes, now +bore about four points on the port quarter, so that +R——, in his apparent endeavour to call its attention +to the deserted babe, could not have seemed to +have been doing anything suspicious when he swung +the bundle above his head and rushed to the rail +almost opposite the U-boat’s conning-tower. That +rotary upward and backward swing was absolutely +necessary for getting distance with, and without it +there was no way that forty or fifty pound infant +could have been hurled the fifteen feet or more +which still intervened. As it was, it landed, fair +and square, in the angle formed by the after end +of the conning-tower and the deck. At the same +instant our machine-guns opened up through several +of the port scuttles, which had been specially +enlarged and masked with that end in view, and in +a few seconds there was not an unwounded Hun +in sight. The gunners had been the first ones +sprayed, with the result that they were copped +before firing a shot. Their torpedoes, or course, +were too close, and not bearing properly enough +to launch.</p> + +<p>“Immediately following the explosion of the +bomb and the opening of the machine-gun fire a +strange thing happened. I saw the U-boat’s bow-rudders +begin to slant, saw her begin to gather way,<!-- Page 230 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +heard the hum of motors as the rattle of the Maxims +(their work completed) died out, and—down +she went, and with three hatches open, and a ragged +hole abaft the conning-tower where the ‘baby’ had +exploded in its final tantrum. I could never get +any sure explanation of this from any of the survivors +we fished up out of the water, but everything +points to the probability that the skipper—perhaps +inadvertently, as the up-kick of the bomb blew him +overboard—pulled the diving klaxon, and the officer +in the central control room, not knowing just +how things stood above, proceeded to submerge as +usual. Doubtless the men who should have been +standing by to close the hatches in such an emergency +had been caught by the machine-gun fire. +With every man below tied down with his duties in +connection with submerging her, it is quite conceivable +that nothing could be done, once she was below +the surface, to stop the inrush of water, and that +she was quickly beyond all hope of bringing up +again. I didn’t have a fair chance to size up the +hole ripped open by the bomb, but rather think that +also was large enough to have admitted a good deal +of water.</p> + +<p>“It was rather disappointing in a way, having +her go down like that, for as things had turned out, +it was a hundred to one we should otherwise have +captured her almost unharmed. There was a good +deal of solace, however, in the fact that none of the +Huns were getting back to tell what happened to<!-- Page 231 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +them, so that this identical stunt was left open for +use again. As a matter of fact, variations of it +were used a number of times, by one kind of craft +or another, before an unlucky slip-up—the one +which finished poor R——, by the way—gave the +game away and started us veering off on other +tacks. I have had a number of successes since that +time,” concluded K——, pouring me a glass of the +yacht’s 1835 Cognac as a night cap, “but never a +one which was quite so much like taking candy from +a child as that ‘opener.’”</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><!-- Page 232 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>THE <i>WHACK</i> AND THE <i>SMACK</i></h3> + + +<p>There was always a strange and distinctive +fascination to me in standing on the bridge +of one ship and watching other ships—and +especially lines of ships—push up and sharpen to +shape above the edge of the sea.</p> + +<p>This feeling, strong enough in ordinary times—when +it was but a peaceful merchantman one +watched from and but peaceful merchantmen that +one saw—is intensified manifold when it is a warship’s +bridge one paces, and only the silhouettes of +ships of war that notch the far horizon. Battleship, +battle cruiser, light cruiser, destroyer, sloop, trawler, +and all the other kinds and classes of patrol +craft—each has its own distinctive smudge of +smoke, its own peculiar way of revealing its identity +by a blurred foretop, funnel, or superstructure long +before its hull has lifted its amorphous mass above +the sky-line.</p> + +<p>And now to the sky-line riddles one was given to +read, and to be thrilled by as the puzzle revealed +itself, had been added the great troop convoy from +America, my first sight of one of which was just unfolding. +H.M.S. <i>Buzz</i>, in which I chanced to be<!-- Page 233 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +out at the time, was not one of the escorting +destroyers, and it was only by accident that the +course she was steering to join up with a couple of +other ships of her flotilla on some kind of “hunting” +stunt took her across that of the convoy, and +passed it in inspiring panoramic review before our +eyes. From dusky blurs of smoke trailing low along +the horizon, ship after ship—from ex-floating +palaces with famous names to angular craft of +strange design which were evidently the latest +word in standardised construction—they rose out +of the sea (as our quartering course brought us +nearer) until a wide angle of our seaward view was +blocked by an almost solid wall of steadily steaming +steel.</p> + +<p>There was a lot to stir the imagination in that +sight—aye, fairly to grip you by the throat as a +dawning sense of what it portended sank home. In +the abstract it was the living, breathing symbol of +the relentless progress of America’s mighty effort, +a tangible sign of the fact that her aid to the Allies +would not arrive too late. What it stood for concretely +is best expressed in the words of the young +R.N.R. sub-lieutenant who was officer of the watch +at the time.</p> + +<p>“It looks to me,” he said, with a pleased smile, +as he lowered his glass after a long scrutiny of the +advancing lines of ships, “as though there’d be +jolly near forty thousand new Yanks to be catered +for in Liverpool by to-morrow evening.”<!-- Page 234 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes,” I said somewhat dubiously, my mind suddenly +assailed by a misgiving awakened by the +thousands of yards of torpedo target presented by +the sides of those placidly ploughing ships, “that +is, assuming that they get there safely. But they’re +only just entering the danger zone now, and there’s +a lot of water got to stream under their keels before +they berth in the Mersey.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know anything about convoys, or the +ways of protecting them; but all the same, it looks +to me as though that bunch of troopers would offer +a mark like the map of Ireland to a U-boat, and a +lot more vulnerable one.”</p> + +<p>Young P—— laughed as he bent, squint-eyed, to +take a bearing on a destroyer zigzagging jauntily +with high-flung wake in the van of the approaching +fleet.</p> + +<p>“That’s what everyone—even an old sailor—says +the first time he sights one of the big transatlantic +convoys,” he said; “and if there are any +skippers new to the job in that lot there, that’s just +what <i>they’re</i> saying. It’s all through failure to +appreciate—indeed, no one who has not seen the ins +and outs of it would be in a position to appreciate—the +effectiveness of the whole anti-submarine +scheme, and, especially, what almost complete protection +thoroughly up-to-the-minute screening—with +adequate destroyers and other light craft—really +affords. As a matter of fact, every soldier in +that convoy is probably a good deal safer now—and<!-- Page 235 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +right on in through this so-called danger zone +to harbour—than he was marching down Broadway +to the pier—at least, if Broadway is like it +was when I used to put in to New York as a kid +in the <i>Baltic</i>.”</p> + +<p>“But will you tell me,” I protested, “how a +U-boat, firing two or three torpedoes from, say, just +about where we are now, could possibly miss a mark +like that?”</p> + +<p>“Well, it would take a bit of missing from hereabouts, +I admit,” was the reply; “only, if there is +any Fritz still in the game with the nerve to try it, +he would also be missing himself.”</p> + +<p>“What would happen to him?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“One or all of two or three things might happen,——” P—— answered, +after ordering a point or +two alteration in course to give safe berth to the +nearing destroyer.</p> + +<p>“He might get his hide holed by gunfire, he +might get split open by a depth-charge, he might +get rammed, and he might get several other things. +With all the luck in his favour, he might even get +a transport. But there’s one thing I can assure +you he wouldn’t get—and that’s back to his base. +There may be two or three bearings from which +one of these big convoys appears to present a +mark as wide and unbroken as the map of Ireland; +but there’s nothing in heaven or earth to save the +Fritz who hasn’t learned by the sad example of no<!-- Page 236 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +small number of his mates that it is quick suicide +for him to slip a mouldie down one of them.”</p> + +<p>“You mean that he doesn’t try it? that he’s +afraid to take the chance?” I asked somewhat incredulously, +for I had somehow come to regard +Fritz, though a pirate, as a dashing and daring one +when the stake was high enough.</p> + +<p>“Except under very favourable circumstances, +yes,” was the reply; “and now that, with the coming +of the American destroyers and patrol boats, +we are able to do the thing the way we want to, +what Fritz might reckon as ‘very favourable circumstances’ +are becoming increasingly fewer and +farther between. Now a few months ago, when +we were just getting the convoy system under weigh, +and when there was a shortage of every kind of +screening craft, things were different. Fritz’s +<i>moral</i> was better then than it is now, and we didn’t +have the means of shaking it that we have piled up +since. At our first convoys, straggling and little +schooled in looking after themselves, he used to +take a chance as often as not, if he happened to sight +them; but even then he rarely got back to tell what +happened to him. There was the one that tried to +celebrate the advent of ‘Peace-on-Earth-Good-Will-to-Men’ +last Christmas Day by sinking the <i>Amperi</i>, +which was one of a convoy the <i>Whack</i> (in which I +was Number Two at the time) was helping to +escort. Well, I couldn’t say much for his ‘Good-Will-toward-Men,’ +but he certainly found a short<!-- Page 237 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +cut to ‘Peace-on-Earth,’ or at least the bottom of +the sea.</p> + +<p>“Now that chap took a real sporting chance, and +got his reward for it—both ways. I mean to say, +that he sunk the ship he went after all right—which +was his reward one way; and that we then sunk him—which +was his reward the other way. There was +a funny coincidence in connection with that little +episode which might amuse you. We were——”</p> + +<p>He paused for a moment while he spelled out for +himself the “Visual” which one of the escorting +destroyers was flashing to the convoy leader, but +presently, with a smile of pleased reminiscence, +took up the thread of his yarn. This is the story +that young Sub-Lieutenant P——, R.N.R., told me +the while we leaned on the lee rail of the bridge +and watched the passing of those miles-long lines +of packed troopers as, silently sure of purpose, superbly +contemptuous of danger, they steamed steadily +on to deliver their cargoes of human freight one +step further towards the fulfilment of its destiny.</p> + +<p>“It was Christmas Day, as I told you,” he said, +bracing comfortable against the roll, “and a cold, +blustering, windy day it was. Several days previously +we had picked up a small slow convoy off a +West African port, and were escorting it to a port +on the West Coast of England. The escort consisted +only of the <i>Whack</i> and the <i>Smack</i>, the skipper +of the latter, as the senior officer, being in command. +None of the ships—they were mostly slow<!-- Page 238 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +freighters—had had much convoy experience to +speak of at the time, and we were having our hands +full all the way keeping them in any kind of formation. +They seemed to be getting worse rather than +better in this respect as we got into the waters +where U-boat attacks might be expected, but this +may have been largely due to the weather, which +was—well, about the usual mid-winter brand in +those latitudes. In fact, we were just becoming +hopeful that the rising wind and sea, both were +about ‘Force 6,’ might make it impossible for submarines +to operate during the day or so that still +must elapse before reaching port, when trouble +began.</p> + +<p>“All the morning the <i>Plato</i>, which had been a +bad straggler throughout, had been falling astern, +and finally the <i>Smack</i> ordered <i>Whack</i> back to prod +her on and do what could be done in the way of +screening her. She still continued to lose distance, +however, so that, at noon, we were nearly out of +sight of the main convoy, of which little more than +smoke and topmasts could be seen on the northern +horizon.</p> + +<p>“At that hour the <i>Smack</i>, doubtless because +he had received some report of the presence of +U-boats in his vicinity, ordered us to rejoin the +convoy. We left an armed trawler to do what it +could for the loitering <i>Plato</i>, and started off at the +best rate the weather would allow to make up the +distance lost. It was at this juncture that the<!-- Page 239 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> +amusing little coincidence I mentioned a while ago +occurred.</p> + +<p>“A patrol-boat, of course, does not carry a padre, +any more than it does a number of the other comforts +and luxuries provided in cruisers and battleships, +and for that reason we hadn’t been able to +do very much in the way of a Christmas service. +Several of the ship’s company were somewhat religiously +inclined, however, and these, in lieu of +anything better, had asked for and received permission +to hold a bit of a song service, in case there +was opportunity for it, during the day. As the +morning had been a rather full one, no suitable interval +offered until their rather poor apology +for a Christmas dinner was out of the way, and +we were headed back to join the convoy. Then they +went to it with a will, and for the next hour or +more fragments of Yuletide songs came drifting +back to my cabin to mingle with a number of other +things conspiring to disturb the forty winks I +was trying to snatch while the going was good. +After a while, it appears, having run through their +repertoire of Christmas songs, they started in on +Easter ones, ‘Bein’ that they was mo’ or less on +the same subject,’ as one of them explained to me +later. They had just boomed the last line of a +chorus which concluded with ‘We shall seek our +risen Lord,’ when a signal was received stating that +a periscope had been sighted by some ship of the +convoy, and, sure enough, off they had to go to<!-- Page 240 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +seek—well, I wouldn’t take the Hun quite so near +his own valuation of himself to put it as the song +does, but all the same that quick new kick of the +screws told me as plain as any words, even before +I read the signal, that the old <i>Whack</i> was jumping +away to seek <i>something</i> that had risen.</p> + +<p>“The convoy was dead ahead of us at a distance +of about seven miles when I reached the bridge, +and, the visibility being unusually good for that +time of year, I could see all of the ships distinctly, +as they steamed in two columns of three abreast. +I was even able to recognise the <i>Amperi</i> in the centre +of the leading line. We were just comforting +each other with the assurance that it was getting +too rough for a U-boat to run a torpedo with any +chance of finding its mark, when a huge spout of +water jumped skyward right in the middle of the +convoy. When it subsided, the <i>Amperi</i>, with a +heavy list to port, could be seen heading westward, +evidently with her engines and steering gear disabled, +while the rest of the convoy, smoke rolling +from their funnels, were ‘starring’ on northerly +courses.</p> + +<p>“The alarm was rung, and as the men rushed to +action stations a signal was made to the <i>Smack</i> +asking what was wrong. She replied, ‘<i>Amperi</i> +torpedoed; join me with all dispatch.’ This, of +course, we had already started to do, though the +wind and sea were knocking a good many knots off +our best speed. It was evident enough that the<!-- Page 241 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> +<i>Amperi</i> had received a death-blow, so that we were +not surprised to find them abandoning ship as we +began to close her.</p> + +<p>“Rotten as the weather was for it, this was +being conducted most coolly and skilfully, and three +boats had already left her before we came driving +down to her assistance. <i>Smack</i> had signalled us +to pick up survivors, and we had stood in, at reduced +speed, to 250 yards of the now heavily heeling +ship, with the intention of proceeding on down, +to the leeward of her to the aid of two of her boats, +when we sighted three or four feet of periscope +sticking out of the water, one point on the starboard +bow and at a distance of about a couple of +hundred yards. To see anything at all in rough +water like that, you understand, a periscope has to +be poked well above the slap of the waves, and +that about equalizes the greater difficulty there is +in picking up the ‘feather’ when it’s choppy.</p> + +<p>“I was at my action station with the 12-pounder +batteries at this juncture, but as it looked like a +better chance for the depth-charges than the guns, +no order to open fire was given just yet. The captain +ordered the helm to be steadied, and rang up +‘Full speed ahead’ to the engine-room. We passed +the periscope ten yards on the port side, and when +the stern was just coming abreast it, two charges +were released together. As they were both set for +the same depth it is probable that the one staggeringly +powerful explosion we felt was caused by<!-- Page 242 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> +their detonating simultaneously. The shock was as +solid as though we had struck a rock, and I could +feel a distinct lift to the ship before the impact of +it. There was something so substantially satisfying +about that muffled jar that it seemed only in the +natural course of things that it effected what it was +intended to. The bow of the U-boat broke surface +almost immediately, the fact that it showed before +the conning-tower proving at once that she was +hard hit and heavily down by the stern. Indeed, the +deck of her from the conning-tower aft was fated +never again to feel the rush of sea air.</p> + +<p>“She was now less than a hundred yards right +astern of us, and heading, in a wobbly sort of way, +like a half-stunned porpoise floundering away from +the ‘boil’ of a depth-charge, on just about the +course the <i>Whack</i> had been on when she kicked +loose her ‘cans.’</p> + +<p>“The skipper put the helm hard-a-starboard, +with the idea of turning to ram, at the same time +ordering me to open fire with the port twelve-pounder. +That was what I had been waiting for. +The gun-crew was down to three—through the +others having been detailed for boat work in connection +with picking up the survivors from the +<i>Amperi</i>—but that didn’t bother a good deal in a +short and sweet practice like this one. The ship +was bobbing like a cork from the seas, in addition to +her heavy heel from the short turn and the vibration +from the grind of the helm. But neither did +any of these little things matter materially, for<!-- Page 243 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +we’d always made a point of carrying out our target +practice under the worst conditions.</p> + +<p>“The first round, fired at three hundred yards, +was an ‘over’ by a narrow margin, but the second, +at two hundred yards, was a clean hit on the conning-tower, +carrying away the periscope and the +stays supporting it. The explosion of this shell +appeared to split the whole superstructure of the +conning-tower, from the bridge to the deck. I did +not see anyone on the bridge at this moment, and if +there had been he must certainly have been killed. +The fact that the submarine seemed to have been +blown to the surface by the force of our exploding +depth-charges rather than to have come up voluntarily, +may account for the fact that no head was +poked above the bridge rail as she emerged. If +she had come up deliberately it would have been +the duty of the skipper and a signalman to pop out +on to the bridge at once to be ready for eventualities. +Evidently they had no chance to do so on this +occasion, and as a consequence spun out their +thread o’ life by anywhere from twenty to thirty +seconds—whatever that was worth to them.</p> + +<p>“My third shot plumped into her abaft the conning-tower, +and the explosion which followed it had +a good deal more behind it than the charge of a +twelve-pounder shell. Before I had a chance to see +what had blown up, however, we had rammed her, +and whatever damage that shot had caused dissolved<!-- Page 244 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +in the chaos of what proved the real <i>coup de +grâce</i>. That ramming was undoubtedly one of the +prettiest little jobs of its kind, one of the most +neatly finessed, ever brought off.</p> + +<p>“Since running over the submarine and dropping +the depth-charges the captain had turned the +<i>Whack</i> through thirty-two points, a complete circle. +This brought her back to a course just at +right angles to the beam of the now helpless enemy, +toward which she was driven to the limit of the last +kick of the engines. Just before the moment of +impact the screws were stopped dead, so as to sink +the bow and reduce the chance of riding over the +U-boat and rolling it under her stem, as has occasionally +happened, instead of cutting it straight in +two. The jar, when it came, was terrific, throwing +from his feet every man not holding to something; +yet there was that in the clean, sweet crunch of it +that told me that it had accomplished all the heart +could desire, even before the next second furnished +graphic ocular evidence of it.</p> + +<p>“The sharp, fine bows of the <i>Whack</i> drove home +well abaft the conning-tower, and—though the +staggering jar told of the resistance met—for all +the eye could see, cut through like a knife in soft +butter. Indeed, the amazing cleanness of the cut +has always seemed to me the most remarkable feature +of the whole show. The bow end of the U-boat, +with the conning-tower, was the section which was +cut off on my side—port—and the even cross-section<!-- Page 245 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +of it that gaped up at me was very little different +from that I once saw when one of our own submarines +was being sawed through amidships in +connection with some repairs. Even the plating +did not appear to be bent or buckled. The impression +that ring of shining clean-cloven steel left on +my mind was of a cut as true and even as could have +been done in dock with an acetylene flame. This +was largely imagination, of course; and yet how +photographic my mind-picture is you may judge +from the fact that I have distinct recollection of +seeing the thin circle of red lead where it showed all +the way round beneath the grey of the outer paint.</p> + +<p>“The heavily tilted main deck of the interior of +this section of the U-boat did not appear to be +flooded at this juncture, though any water that had +been shipped, of course, would have been in the now +submerged bows. I have a jumbled recollection of +wheels and levers and switchboards, fittings of +brass and steel, and what I took to be three torpedoes—one +on the port side, and two, one above +the other, on the starboard. The most arresting +thing of all, however, was the figure of a solitary +man, the only one, strange to say, that anybody +reports having seen. He was scrambling upward +toward the opening, and I have never been quite +sure whether he was ‘Kamerad-ing’ with his uplifted +hands, or whether they were raised preparatory +to the dive it is quite probable he intended to +make into the sea.<!-- Page 246 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Whichever the attitude was, it had no chance +to serve its purpose. The stern section of the U-boat—the +one most heavily damaged by the depth-charges—was +seen to sink abreast the starboard +12-pounder battery by the crew of that gun, but the +forward part—the one with the conning-tower, +which I had seen into the interior of—buoyed up +by the water-tight compartments in the bows, continued +to float. Observing this, the Captain ordered +the helm put a-starboard, and as we turned, +the 4-inch gun and my 12-pounder opened up together. +My very first round, fired over the port +quarter, hit and exploded fairly inside the gaping +end of the section, right where I had last seen the +man with upraised hands. That, and the two or +three smashing hits by the 4-inch gun, finished the +job. A whirlpool in the sea marked the rush of +water into the severed end, and this section—for all +the world as though it had been a complete submarine—tossed +its bows, with their elephant-ear-like +rudders, skyward, and planed off on an easy +angle toward the bottom. Its disappearance was +complete. There were no survivors, and practically +no floating wreckage. Only a spreading film +of oil and a tangle of torn wakes slowly dissolving +in the wash of the driving seas marked the scene of +the action. It had lasted something over ten +minutes.</p> + +<p>“The <i>Whack</i> suffered considerable damage from +the impact with the submarine, though not enough<!-- Page 247 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> +to give us serious worry, even in so heavy a sea. +The stem was bent over to port, like a broken nose, +and the buckling plates caused her to make quite a +bit of water. We had no trouble coping with this, +however, and made port, with the survivors of the +<i>Amperi</i> aboard, without difficulty. There we soon +had the—well, not unmixedly unpleasant—news +that the <i>Whack’s</i> wounds were of a nature somewhat +comparable to what the Tommy in France +calls a ‘Blighty.’ Without having any real permanent +harm done her, she was still enough +banged up to need a special refit, the period of +which, of course, the most of us would be able to +spend at home on leave. Yes, indeed,” he concluded, +grinning pleasedly, “that was a ripping +piece of ramming in more ways than one.”</p> + +<p>P—— went over and bent above the shivering +“Gyro,” for a moment, took a long look through his +glasses at the last of the now receding convoy, and +then came back and rejoined me by the rail.</p> + +<p>“There was one little thing I neglected to tell +you about,” he said presently, “and that was the +part the <i>Smack</i> played in that show. Although the +<i>Whack</i> got all the <i>kudos</i> for the sinking, there is a +decided possibility that a bit of a stunt the <i>Smack</i> +brought off before ever we came up may have been +largely if not entirely responsible for us getting the +chance we did.</p> + +<p>“<i>Smack</i>, you see, was near at hand when the <i>Amperi</i> +was torpedoed, and the instant her Captain<!-- Page 248 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> +saw the spout of water shoot up in the air, he +altered course and drove at full speed for the point +he reckoned the submarine would be most likely to +be encountered. He reports that he had the good +fortune to hit it, while it was still submerged, and +that the shock was severe enough to throw men off +their balance. Shortly after that a periscope appeared, +and it was this that gave the <i>Whack</i> her +chance to drop her depth-charges.</p> + +<p>“Now, not unnaturally, the Captain of the +<i>Smack</i> had good reason to believe that his striking +the U-boat, even if he only grazed her, had something +to do with her reappearance on the surface +at a moment when she must have known a strenuous +hunt for her was in progress. Unluckily, for +his claim, however, the bows of the <i>Smack</i>, when +she came to be docked, did not show sufficient evidences +of having been in heavy collision to warrant +the conclusion that the U-boat had been enough +damaged to have gone to the surface from that +cause alone. Under the circumstances, therefore, +there wasn’t anything else to do but give the credit +for bringing her up to <i>Whack’s</i> depth-charges, +while of course, the fact that it was also the <i>Whack</i> +that rammed her was obvious enough. The consequence +was, as I said, that <i>we</i> got all the <i>kudos</i>.”</p> + +<p>He gazed for a few moments at the back-curling +bow-wave, before resuming. “Yes, <i>we</i> got all the +<i>kudos</i>,” he said slowly; “but, all the same, I’ve +never been able to figure why Fritz didn’t douse his<!-- Page 249 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +periscope and try to dive deeper when he saw the +<i>Whack</i> rounding toward him, if it wasn’t because +there was something pretty radically wrong with +him already. I can’t help thinking that the old +<i>Smack</i> had a lot to do with starting that Fritz on +his downward path, even if it was the <i>Whack</i> that +gave him the final shove.”</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was very characteristic, that last little explanation +of P——’s. If there is one thing more than +another that has impressed me in hearing these +young British destroyer officers tell the “little +games they have played with Fritz,” it is the fine +sporting spirit in which they invariably insist in +sharing the credit of an achievement with every +other officer, and man, and ship that has in any way +figured in the action. It was the fault of the Hun +that we could no longer treat the enemy as we +would an opponent in sport; but that only makes +it all the more inspiring to see the fellow-players +still keeping alive the old spirit among themselves.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><!-- Page 250 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>BOMBED!</h3> + + +<p>It was generally admitted by flying-men, even +before the failure of the attempts to destroy +the <i>Goeben</i> while ashore in the Dardanelles +early in ’18, that the air-bomb was a most uncertain +and ineffective weapon against a large ship of any +class, but especially so against a warship with deck +armour.</p> + +<p>The principal reason for this is that the blunt-nosed +air-bomb, no matter from how high it may be +dropped, has neither the velocity nor the structure +to penetrate the enclosed spaces of a ship where its +explosive charge would find something to exert +itself against.</p> + +<p>This is why an 18-pounder shell, penetrating to a +casemate or engine-room, for instance, may easily +do more damage to a warship than an air-bomb of +ten times that weight expending its force more or +less harmlessly upon an upper deck.</p> + +<p>Merchant ships, with their inflammable and comparatively +flimsy upper works, are more vulnerable +to air-bombs than are warships, but even of these<!-- Page 251 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +very few indeed have been completely destroyed as +a consequence of aerial attack. Some of the gamest +fights of the war on the sea have been those of +merchant skippers who, in the days before their +ships had guns of any description to keep aircraft +at a distance, brought their vessels through by the +exercise of the boundless resource which characterises +their kind, usually by sheer skill in manœuvring. +A very remarkable instance of this character +I heard of a few days ago from a Royal Naval +Reserve officer who figured in it.</p> + +<p>“I was in a British ship temporarily in the Holland-South +American service at the time,” he said, +“and we were outward bound from Rotterdam +after discharging a cargo of wheat from Montevideo. +It was before the Huns had raised any objection +to ships bound for Dutch ports using the +direct route by the English Channel, and also before +the U-boats had begun to sink neutrals on +that run. Except for the comparatively slight risk +of encountering a floating mine, we reckoned we +were just about as safe in the North Sea as in the +South Atlantic. Of course, we carried no gun of +any kind—no heavy gun, I mean. We <i>did</i> have +a rifle or two, as I will tell you of presently.</p> + +<p>“Why the attack was made we never had any +definite explanation. In fact, the Germans themselves +probably never knew, for they tumbled over +themselves to assure the Holland Government that +there was some misunderstanding, and that they<!-- Page 252 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +would undertake that nothing of the kind should +occur again.</p> + +<p>“My personal opinion has always been that it +was a sheer case of running amuck on the part of +the Hun aviator responsible for the outrage; for, +as I have said, we were empty of cargo, our marks +were unmistakable, and we were steering a course +several points off the one usually followed by the +Dutch boats to England. Anyway, he paid the full +penalty for his descent to barbarism.</p> + +<p>“It was a clear afternoon, with a light wind and +lighter sea, and we were steaming comfortably +along at about nine knots, heading for the Straits +of Dover, when the look-out at the mast-head reported +a squadron of ’planes approaching from the +south.</p> + +<p>“Presently we sighted them from the bridge—five +seaplanes, three or four points off our starboard +bow. There had been reports of noonday +raids on Calais for several days, and I surmised +that those were Hun machines returning from some +such stunt.</p> + +<p>“Holding to an even course, the squadron +passed over a mile or more to the starboard of us, +and it was already some distance astern when I +saw one of the machines—I think it was the one +leading the ‘V’—detach itself from the others and +head swiftly back in our direction. There was +nothing out of the way in this action at a time when +every ship was held in more or less suspicion by<!-- Page 253 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> +both belligerents, and it seemed to me so right and +proper that the chap should come and have a look +at us, in case he had some doubts, that I did not +even think it necessary to call the ‘Old Man’ to +the bridge, or even send him word of what I took +to be no more than a passing incident.</p> + +<p>“Descending swiftly as he approached, the Hun +passed over the ship diagonally—from port +quarter to starboard bow—at a height of six or +eight hundred feet.</p> + +<p>“‘That’ll end it,’ I thought. ‘Our marks, and +the fact that we’re in ballast, ought to satisfy him.’</p> + +<p>“But no. Back he came. This time he was a +hundred feet or so lower, and flying on a line +directly down our course, passing over us from bow +to stern. Again he swung round and repeated the +manœuvre in reverse, this time at a height of not +more than four hundred feet. He had done this +five or six times before it occurred to me that he +was taking practice sights for bombing; but not +even then, when I saw him with his eye glued to his +dropping-instrument, did it occur to me that he +was doing anything more than trying his sights. +It was at the next ‘run’ or two that the thing began +to get on my nerves, and I called up the skipper on +the voice-pipe and told him I did not quite like the +look of the circus.</p> + +<p>“The Old Man was in the middle of his afternoon +siesta, but he tumbled out and came puffing +up to the bridge at the double. He was no more<!-- Page 254 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> +inclined to take the thing seriously than I was, +but, on the off-chance—which your careful skipper +is always thinking of in the back of his brain-box—he +rang up ‘More steam’ on the engine-room telegraph, +and ordered the quartermaster to start zig-zagging, +a stunt we had already practised a bit +in the event of a submarine attack.</p> + +<p>“‘If he’s just trying his eye,’ said the Old Man, +‘it’ll give him all the better practice to follow us; +while, it he’s up to mischief, it may fuss him a bit.’</p> + +<p>“The Hun had just whirled about three or four +cables’ length ahead of us, when the smoke rolling +up from the funnel and the swinging bow must +have told him that we were trying to give him a bit +more of a run for his money. Circling on a wider +turn, he came charging straight down the line of +our new course, flying at what I should say was +between two and three times the height of our +masts. We were looking at the machine at an angle +of about forty-five degrees—so that he must have +been about as far ahead of us as he was high, say, +a hundred yards—when I saw a small dark object +detach itself from under the fuselage and begin to +come directly towards us, almost as though shot +from a gun.</p> + +<p>“It was the only bomb I ever saw fall while I +was in a sufficiently detached state of mind to +mark what it looked like. ‘Fall’ hardly conveys +a true picture of the way the thing seemed to approach, +for the swift machine, speeding at perhaps<!-- Page 255 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +a hundred miles an hour, must have imparted, at +the instant of releasing, a good deal of lateral +velocity.</p> + +<p>“At first it was coming almost head on to the +way I was looking at it, and, greatly foreshortened, +it had so much the appearance of a round +sand-bag that it is not surprising that the skipper +took it for some kind of practice dummy. ‘Probably +a dud,’ I remember him saying; ‘but don’t let +it hit you. Stand by to duck!’</p> + +<p>“My next recollection is of the thing beginning +to wobble a bit, probably as the nose began to tilt +downward; but still it seemed to be coming +straight toward us rather than simply falling. I +seem to recall that the seaplane passed overhead +an appreciable space before the bomb, but I must +have heard it rather than seen it, for I never took +my eye off the speeding missile.</p> + +<p>“The latter seemed at the least from fifty to a +hundred feet above my head as it hurtled over the +starboard end of the bridge, and I saw it with +startling distinctness silhouetted against a cloud +that was bright with the light of the sun it had +just obscured. It was still wobbling, but apparently +tending to steady under the combined influence +of the downward pull of the heavy head and +the backward drag of the winged tail. It appeared +to be revolving.</p> + +<p>“I have since thought, however, that I may have +got the latter impression from a ‘spinner’ that is<!-- Page 256 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> +often attached to this type of bomb to unwind, +with the resistance of the air, and expose the detonator.</p> + +<p>“Down it came until it whanged against some of +the standing rigging of the foremast—seeming to +deflect inboard and downward slightly as a consequence—missed +the mainmast by a few feet, and +struck squarely against the side of the deckhouse +on the poop.</p> + +<p>“The scene immediately after the explosion of +the bomb is photographed indelibly on my memory; +the events which followed are more of a jumble. +The detonation was a good deal less sharp than I +had expected, and so was the shock from it. The +latter was not nearly so heavy as that from many +a wave that had crashed over her bows, but, coming +from aft rather than for’ard, the jolt had a distinctly +different feel, and by a man ’tween decks +would hardly have been mistaken for that from a +sea.</p> + +<p>“It was the flash of the explosion—a huge spurt +of hot, red flame—that was the really astonishing +thing. It seemed to embrace the whole afterpart +of the ship, and everything one of the forked +tongues of fire was projected against burst into +flame itself.</p> + +<p>“The ramshackle deckhouse, which had been reduced +to kindling wood by the explosion, roared +like a furnace in the middle of the poop. Even the +deck itself was blazing. I had once been near an<!-- Page 257 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> +incendiary bomb in a London air raid, and knew +that nothing else could have produced so sudden +and so fierce a fire.</p> + +<p>“But I also knew that the first burst of flame +is the worst in such a case, and that most of the +fire came from the inflammable stuff in the bomb +itself.</p> + +<p>“As I had always heard that sand was better +than water in putting out a fire of this kind, and +knowing we carried several barrels of it for scrubbing +the decks, I ordered it to be brought up and +thrown on the flames, but stood by on the bridge +myself in case the skipper, who was bawling down +the engine-room voice-pipe for more steam, needed +me for anything else.</p> + +<p>“Luckily the sand was close at hand, and they +were scattering it from buckets over the blazing +deck within a minute or two. Except for the +débris of the deckhouse, the fire was put out almost +as quickly as it was started, and, between +sand and water, even that was being rapidly got +under control, when suddenly the Hun, whom I +had almost forgotten in the rush of undoing his +dirty work, flashed into sight again.</p> + +<p>“The skipper had our ship zigzagging so short +and sharp by this time that her wake looked like +the teeth of a big, crazy saw, and this the Hun was +unable to follow closely enough to get a fore-and-aft +sight down her as he had done the first +time.<!-- Page 258 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Coming up astern, he kicked out a bomb just +before he was over her port quarter, but it only +shot across her diagonally, and struck the water +on her starboard side, about a hundred feet away. +It went off with, if anything, a sharper crack than +the one which had struck the poop, and the foam +geyser the explosion shot up flashed a bloody red +for the instant the water took to chill the glow of +the molten thermit.</p> + +<p>“Vanishing even more quickly was a ragged red +star which fluttered for a moment beneath the surface +of the water itself as the flame stabs shot out +in all directions from the central core of the explosion.</p> + +<p>“No water was thrown aboard us, and, near as I +was to the explosion on the bridge, the rush of air +could hardly be felt. Something that came tinkling +down after striking the side of the charthouse, +however—I picked it up when the show was over—turned +out to be a thin fragment of the steel casing +of the bomb.</p> + +<p>“A similar fragment, twisted into a peculiar +shape, struck the chest of a man leaning over the +rail in the waist of the ship, inflicting a slight flesh +wound the exact shape of a ragged capital ‘C.’</p> + +<p>“That any kind of a living man could really be +trying to destroy a mere merchant ship in cold +blood seemed to me so monstrous, so utterly impossible, +that, until the second bomb was dropped, +I was almost ready to believe that the first had been<!-- Page 259 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> +launched by accident. From then on we knew it +was a fight for life.</p> + +<p>“The Hun took a broader swerve in bringing his +machine round for the next charge, and, ten times +quicker on his helm than we were, anticipated our +next shift of course, and came darting down on an +almost straight fore-and-aft line again. The sudden +cloud of our foreblown smoke—there was a +following wind on the ‘leg’ they had put her on +at the moment—which engulfed him at the instant +his third bomb was released was the one thing in +the world that could have made him miss so easy a +‘sitter.’ The quick ‘side-flip’ the sharply-banked +’plane gave to the dropped missile threw it wide +by twice the distance the second had missed us. +Though the detonation rang sharp and clear, and +though a vicious spout of foam shot up, I could +note no effect of the thing whatever on the ship. +Whether that was his last bomb or not we could +never be quite sure. At any rate, it was the last +he tried to drop upon us, or upon any other ship +for that matter.</p> + +<p>“Just why he returned to the attack with his +machine-gun we could only guess. It may have +been, as is probable, that he was at the end of the +small supply of bombs left from the raid he was +doubtless returning from.</p> + +<p>“Again, however, it is just possible that the +fact that the fire was being got under control on +the poop impelled him to adopt an attack calculated<!-- Page 260 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +to drive the plucky chaps who were fighting +it to cover.</p> + +<p>“Anyhow, flying just high enough to clear the +tops of the masts, he came swooping back, and it +was upon the men trying to put out the fire—now +confined to the wreckage—of the deckhouse—that +he seemed to concentrate his attack. Two or three +of these I saw fall under the rain of bullets, and +among them was our freight clerk, who had also +been knocked down by the explosion of the first +bomb, but who, being hardly stunned by the shock, +was soon on his feet again and leading the fire-fighters.</p> + +<p>“He was a good deal of a character, this freight +clerk. Although well educated, he had led a free +and easy existence in various parts of the world. +For a year previous to the war he had been a cowboy, +and some queer trait in his character made +him still cling to the <i>poncho</i>, or shoulder blanket, +and baggy trousers, which are the main features of +the Argentine cow-puncher’s rigout. It was the +Wild West rig that made me notice him when he +was knocked down by the bomb and later by the +machine-gun fire.</p> + +<p>“He was scarcely more hurt the second time than +the first, but the bullet which had grooved the outer +covering of his brain-box seemed also to have put +a new idea inside it. I saw him pull himself together +in a dazed sort of way after the seaplane +had passed, and then shake off the hand of a man<!-- Page 261 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> +who tried to help him, and dash off down the ladder, +tumbling to cover, I thought.</p> + +<p>“It must have been a minute or two later that I +saw him, legs wide apart to keep his balance, pumping +back at the Hun (who had swung close again +in the interim) with a rifle—a weapon which I +later learned was an old Winchester, which had +been rusting on the wall of the freight clerk’s +cabin. He appeared to have had the worst of the +exchange, for when I looked again he was sitting, +with one leg crumpled crookedly under him, +propped up against a bitt.</p> + +<p>“He looked still full of fight, though, and +seemed to be replenishing the magazine of the rifle +from his bandoliers.</p> + +<p>“The skipper sent me below to stir things up a +bit in the engine-room at this juncture, and I did +not see my cowboy friend until he had fought two +or three more unequal rounds and was squaring +away, groggy, but still unbeaten, for what proved +the final one.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know whether he ever got credit for it +or not, but the Old Man’s plan of action at this +juncture must pretty nearly have marked a mile-post +in merchant ship defence against aerial attack. +We had been instructed in, and had practised +the zigzag before this, but that was about the limit +of our resources in this line. ‘Squid’ tactics—smoke +screening—had hardly been more than +thought of for anything but destroyers. Yet the<!-- Page 262 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> +wily old skipper, literally on a moment’s notice, +brought off a stunt that could not have been improved +upon if it had been the result of a year’s +thought and experience.</p> + +<p>“The instant the Hun ‘stumbled’ when he +struck the cloud of smoke that was pouring ahead +of us, the skipper’s ready mind began evolving a +plan still further to besmudge the atmosphere. Today, +with special instructions and special stuff +ready to hand, a merchant captain, if he needed it, +would simply tell the chief engineer to ‘make +smoke screen.’</p> + +<p>“On this occasion the Old Man meant the same +thing when I heard him yelling down the engine-room +voice-pipe to ‘Smoke up like hell!’</p> + +<p>“About all the chief could do under the circumstances +was to stoke faster and cut down the +draught. This he did to the best of his ability, but +the screen did not bear much resemblance to one of +those almost solid streams of soot a modern destroyer +can turn out by spraying oil freely and +shutting off the air.</p> + +<p>“Such as it was, however, the Old Man made +the most of, and by steaming down the wind accomplished +the double purpose of cutting down the +draught fanning the fire on the poop and keeping a +maximum of smoke floating above the ship.</p> + +<p>“The smudge bothered the Hun, but by no means +put an end to his machine-gun practice. Except +for the freight clerk, who was still pumping back<!-- Page 263 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> +at the seaplane every time it swooped over, every +one on the poop had been killed, wounded, or +driven to cover, and, with no one to fight it, the +fire was beginning to gain new headway.</p> + +<p>“‘Not good ’nuf by a mile,’ I heard the Old Man +muttering to himself as he eyed the quickly thinning +trail of smoke from the funnels. ‘Must do +better’n that or ’taint no good.’ Then I saw his +bronzed old face light up.</p> + +<p>“‘X——!’ he shouted, beckoning me to his side, +‘duck below, clean out all the stuff in the paint +lockers and chuck it in the furnaces, ’specially the +oils and turps. Jump lively!’</p> + +<p>“This was the job I went on when I said I saw +the cowboy crumpled up against a bitt, but still +full of fight.</p> + +<p>“Linseed oil, turpentine, and some tins of fine +lubricants—I had them all turned out of the fore-peak +and carried, rolled, dragged, or tossed down to +the stokehold.</p> + +<p>“Most of the stuff was in kegs or cans small +enough to go through a furnace door, and these +we threw in without broaching them. The Old Man +called me up twice—the first time to say that there +was no increase in smoke, and wanting to know +why I was so slow; and the second time to say that +he had just got a bullet through his shoulder, and +ordering me to come up and take over, as he was +beginning to feel groggy.</p> + +<p>“There was an ominous crackling and sputtering<!-- Page 264 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +in the furnaces as I sprang for the ladder, and before +my foot was on the lowermost rung, one of +the doors jumped violently up on its top-swing +hinges from the kick of an exploding tin or keg of +oil. As it fell back with a clang the swish of sudden +flame smote my ears, and then a regular salvo +of muffled detonations. The last picture I had of +the boiler-room was of the stokers trying to confine +the infernos they had created by wedging shut +the doors with their scoops.</p> + +<p>“The whole ship was a-shiver with the roaring +conflagration in her furnaces as I reached the upper +deck, and, above a tufty, white frizzle of escaping +steam, rolled a greasy jet of smoke that looked +thick enough for a man to dance a hornpipe on it +without sinking above his ankles. I found the Old +Man, with a dazed sort of look in his eyes, and his +jaw set like grim death, hanging on to the binnacle +when I gained the bridge, and all he had the +strength to say, before slithering down in a heap, +was, ‘Damn good smoke! Carry on—zigzag down +wind! Think blighter has finished. Look to—fire.’</p> + +<p>“The fact that the Hun was now circling the ship +at considerable distance had evidently made the +skipper believe that he had come to the end of his +cartridges, and in this I am inclined to think the +Old Man was right.</p> + +<p>“Which fire, however, he referred to I was not +quite sure about, but, in my own mind, I was rather +more concerned about the one I had started with<!-- Page 265 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +the ship’s paint than the one the Hun’s incendiary +bomb had set going. Indeed, the ‘fire brigade,’ +which had taken advantage of the lull to get a hose +playing on the conflagration on the poop, was rapidly +reducing the latter to a black mass of steaming +embers. The cowboy was still snuggled up against +the bitt, which he used to rest his right elbow on +in the occasional shots he was lobbing over at the +now distantly circling enemy. When I learned +later what a crack shot the chap really was, I cannot +say that I blamed the Hun for his discretion.</p> + +<p>“What tempted him to make that fatal final +swoop we never knew. It may have been sheer +bravado, or he may have been trying to frighten +off the fire-fighters again. Anyhow, back he came, +allowing plenty of leeway to miss my smoke screen, +and only high enough to clear the masts by forty +or fifty feet.</p> + +<p>“The cowboy saw him coming, and I can picture +him yet as he lay there waiting, with his cheek +against the stock of that old Winchester, and following +the nearing ’plane through its sights. With +the rare good sense of your real hunter, he didn’t +run any risk of frightening off his quarry with any +premature shots. He just laid doggo, and held his +fire.</p> + +<p>“If the Hun had been content to sit tight and +keep his head out of sight, the chances are nothing +would have happened to him; but the temptation to +have a closer look at his handiwork and to jeer at<!-- Page 266 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> +his ‘beaten enemy’ was too much for him. Banking +as sharply as his big ’plane would stand, he leaned +out head and shoulders above the wrecked poop, +gave a jaunty wave of the hand, and opened his +mouth to shout what was probably some sort of +Hunnish pleasantry.</p> + +<p>“The crack of the old Winchester reached my +ears above the roar of the seaplane’s engine, and +the next thing I was clearly conscious of was the +machine’s swerving—sidewise and downward—and +plunging straight into the trailing column of black +smoke. The tip of its left wing fouled the main +truck, but it still kept enough balance and headway +to carry past and clear of the ship.</p> + +<p>“It then slammed down into the water two or +three hundred feet off our starboard bow, and it +only took a point or two of alteration to bring it +under our forefoot.</p> + +<p>“The old ship struck the mark so fair that she +cut the wreckage into two parts, and I saw fragments +of wings and fuselage boiling up on both +sides of our wake astern. I gave the order in hot +blood, but I would do the same thing again if I had +a week to think it over in, just as I would go out +of my way to kill a poisonous snake.</p> + +<p>“Of course we never knew definitely who was +responsible for polishing off the Hun. For a while +I thought it probable that the cowboy had only +wounded him, and that his swerve into the smoke +had been responsible for the dive into the sea, where<!-- Page 267 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +the ship put the finishing touches on the job. But +from the day that the cowboy showed me that he +could hit tossed-up shillings with a target-rifle +four times out of five I have been inclined to believe +his assertion that he ‘plunked the bloomin’ +blighter straight through the nut,’ and that I and +my smoke had nothing to do with it.</p> + +<p>“Neither the skipper nor the cowboy were much +hurt, and as for the ship, she probably suffered, in +the long run, more from the loss of her paint and oil +supply than from the Hun’s bomb and the fire it +started.”</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><!-- Page 268 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>AGAINST ODDS</h3> + + +<p>The news from all the Fronts had been discouraging +for several days, and it only +needed that staggering announcement of the +destruction of practically a whole convoy and its +escort, in the North Sea, to cap the climax of gloom. +This is what I had read in the fog-hastened autumn +twilight, by the feeble glow of a paint-masked +street lamp, in the Stop Press column of the evening +paper a Strand newsboy had shoved into my +hand.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“Two very fast and heavily-armed German +raiders attacked a convoy in the North Sea, about +midway between the Shetland Islands and the Norwegian +coast, on October 17th. Two British destroyers—H.M. +ships <i>Mary Rose</i> (Lieutenant-Commander +Charles L. Fox) and <i>Strongbow</i> +(Lieutenant-Commander Edward Brooke)—which +formed the anti-submarine escort, at once engaged +the enemy vessels, and fought until sunk after a +short and unequal engagement. Their gallant +action held the German raiders sufficiently long to +enable three of the merchant vessels to effect their +escape. It is regretted, however, that five Norwegian,<!-- Page 269 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> +one Danish, and three Swedish vessels—all +unarmed—were thereafter sunk by gunfire +without examination or warning of any kind and +regardless of the lives of their crew or passengers.... +Anxious to make good their escape before +British forces could intercept them, no effort was +made to rescue the crews of the sunk British destroyers +or the doomed merchant ships, but British +patrol craft which arrived shortly afterward rescued +some thirty Norwegians and others of whom +details are not yet known.... The enemy raiders +succeeded in evading the British watching squadrons +on the long dark nights, both in their hurried +outward dash and homeward flight.</p> + +<p>“It is regretted that all the eighty-eight officers +and men of H.M.S. <i>Mary Rose</i> and forty-seven +officers and men of H.M.S. <i>Strongbow</i> were lost. +All the next-of-kin have been informed.”</p></div> + +<p>A few days later a second Admiralty report announced +that ten survivors of the <i>Mary Rose</i> had +reached Norway in an open boat, and also gave a +few further particulars of the action in which she +had been lost. From this it appeared that she had +been many miles ahead of the main convoy when the +latter was attacked, and that, possessed of the +speed, with many knots to spare, to have avoided +an action in which the odds were a thousand to one +against her, she had yet deliberately steamed back +and thrown down the gage of battle to the heavily +armed German cruisers. Just why her captain +chose the course he did was not, and never will be, +fully explained. He went down with his ship, and<!-- Page 270 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> +to none of those who survived had he disclosed what +was in his mind. It was certainly not “war,” the +critics said, but they also agreed that it was “magnificent” +enough to furnish the one ray of brightness +striking athwart the sombre gloom of the +whole disheartening tragedy. “He held on unflinchingly,” +concluded an all-too-brief story of the +action issued to the public through the Admiralty, +some time later, “and he died, leaving to the annals +of his service an episode not less glorious than that +in which Sir Richard Grenville perished.”</p> + +<p>From the time I read these Admiralty announcements +I had the feeling that some, if not all, of +those ten survivors of the <i>Mary Rose</i> would surely +be able to offer more of an explanation of why her +captain took her into battle against such hopeless +odds than any that had yet been suggested to the +public, and in the months which followed I made +what endeavour I could to locate and have a talk +with one of them. It was not long before the ten +were scattered in as many different ships, however, +and though I had the names and official numbers +of two or three, almost a year went by before I +chanced upon the first of them. Indeed, it was but +a day or two previous to the first anniversary of the +loss of the <i>Mary Rose</i> and <i>Strongbow</i> and the destruction +of the Norwegian convoy that, in the +course of a visit to a Submarine Depot Ship at one +of the East Coast bases, I sauntered forward one +evening and fell into conversation with a sturdily<!-- Page 271 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +built, steady-eyed young seaman—some kind of +torpedo rating, evidently, by the red worsted +“mouldie” on his sleeve—who had just clambered +up to the forecastle from the deck of a hulking “L” +moored alongside.</p> + +<p>“How do you like submarin-ing?” I had asked +him, by way of getting acquainted.</p> + +<p>“Not so bad, sir,” he replied with a smile, +“though it’s a bit stuffy and rather slow after destroyers. +With them there’s something doing all +the time. I was in one of the ‘M’ class before I +volunteered for submarines. P’raps you’ve heard +of her—the <i>Mary Rose</i>, sunk a year this month, +in——”</p> + +<p>“Wait a moment,” I cut in, as the ribbon he was +wearing caught my eye; “you’re one of the men +I’ve been looking for for a number of months. Ten +to one you’re Able Seaman Bailey, who received +the D.S.M. for his part in the action, and who is +specially mentioned in the Admiralty story” (refreshing +my memory from a note-book) “for having, +‘despite severe shrapnel wounds in the leg, +persisted in taking his turn at an oar’ of the Norwegian +lifeboat which picked up the <i>Mary Rose</i> +survivors, and for his ‘invincible light-heartedness +throughout.’”</p> + +<p>A flush spread under his “submarine pallor” at +that broadside, but he admitted, with an embarrassed +grin, that his name was Bailey, and that his +decoration was awarded for something or other in<!-- Page 272 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +connection with the last fight of the <i>Mary Rose</i>, +though for just what he had never quite been able +to figure out. In the hour we leaned over the forecastle +rail and watched the North Sea fog-bank roll +up the estuary with the incoming tide, this is the +account he gave me of the things which he himself +saw of what is perhaps the most gallantly tragic +of all the naval actions of the war.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>“They hadn’t got convoying at that time down +to the system it is carried on under now,” he began, +by way of explanation, “and the only fighting ships +with this one were the <i>Mary Rose</i> and <i>Strongbow</i>. +The <i>Mary</i> was of the same class as the ‘M ...’ +over there, very large and fast and well armed for +a destroyer, but never, of course, built for anything +like a give-and-take fight with any kind of +a cruiser.</p> + +<p>“There was also an armed trawler somewhere +about, but it had no chance to do anything but pick +up survivors. We were an anti-submarine escort, +nothing more, and were not intended to stand off +surface raiders. Of course provision was made +against these, too, but—well, when you consider the +size of the North Sea and the length and blackness +of the winter nights, the only wonder is that +the Huns can’t buck up their nerve to trying for a +convoy twice a week instead of twice a year.</p> + +<p>“We had escorted the north-bound convoy across +to Bergen, and, on the afternoon of the 16th of<!-- Page 273 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> +October, had picked up the south-bound and headed +back for one of the home ports. Escorting even a +squadron of warships which know how to keep station +is no picnic for destroyers, but with merchantmen +it is a dozen times worse. It is bad enough +even now, but a year ago, before these little packets +had had much experience, it was enough to drive a +man crazy. Between the faster ships trying to +push on, and the slower ones falling astern, and +breakdowns, and the chance of trickery, it was one +continual round of worry from the time we left +Base to our return.</p> + +<p>“This time was no exception to the rule, even +before the big smash. One of the Swedes—there +were Norwegian and Danish as well as Swedish +ships in the convoy, but we called them all +‘Swedes,’ probably because it was shorter and +easier to say than Scandinavian—well, one of the +Swedes shifted cargo along about dark of the 16th, +with the result that the slower ships, and this included +most of the convoy, lagged back, while several +of the faster ones kept on.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know whether this was done by order, +or whether it just happened. Anyhow, the <i>Strongbow</i> +remained behind with the slower section, while +the <i>Mary Rose</i> pushed on as an escort for the +faster. It was the first lot—the main convoy—that +the raiders attacked first, but just what happened +I did not see, for we had drawn a long way +ahead of them in the course of the night.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a name="LOOKOUT" id="LOOKOUT"><img src="images/illo11.jpg" + alt="A LOOK-OUT ON A DESTROYER AND PART OF HIS VIEW" style="border:0" + title="A LOOK-OUT ON A DESTROYER AND PART OF HIS VIEW" + height="415" width="600" /></a> +</div> +<h4>A LOOK-OUT ON A DESTROYER AND PART OF HIS VIEW</h4> + +<p>“When I came up to stand my watch as anti-submarine<!-- Page 274 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> +lookout, on the after searchlight platform, +at four in the morning of the 17th, I remember +that it was cloudy and thick overhead, but with +very fair visibility on the water. We were steaming +along comfortably with two boilers, which gave us +a big margin of speed over everything needed to cut +our zigzags round the comparatively slow packets +we were escorting. The sea was rough but almost +dead astern, so that it made little trouble—for +the moment, that is. We had enough of it a little +later.</p> + +<p>“Along toward six o’clock the visibility began +to extend as it grew lighter, but there was no sign +of the main convoy when, at exactly five-fifty, I +sighted flashes of light fluttering along the northern +horizon. Although my ears caught no sound but +the throb of the engines and the churning of the +screws, I had no doubt they were from gun-fire, and +reported them at once by voice-pipe to the Officer of +the Watch—it was Gunner T., if I remember right—on +the bridge. The captain was called, and must +have concluded the same, for he at once ordered her +put about and sounded ‘Action Stations.’ That +took me to the foremost torpedo tubes, where my +station was on the seat between the tubes, with the +voice-pipe gear fitted to my ears. Most of what +followed I saw from there.</p> + +<p>“In some of the published accounts of the action +it was stated that the captain of the <i>Mary Rose</i><!-- Page 275 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +thought that the flashes he saw were from the gun +of a submarine shelling the convoy, so that when +he turned back it was with the expectation of meeting +a U-boat rather than powerful raiding cruisers. +I don’t know anything definite on this score, of +course, as I only heard the captain speak once or +twice (and then to give orders) before he went +down with his ship, but I don’t think it could possibly +have been true. There is a sort of fluttering +ripple to the flash of a salvo that you can’t possibly +mistake for that of the discharge of a single +gun, and the flashes which we continued to see for +some time were plainly those of salvo answering +salvo. The flashes from the mingled salvoes of the +heavy guns of the Hun raiders could not have been +confused with those from the few light guns of the +<i>Strongbow</i> any more than these could have been +taken to come from the single gun of a U-boat. +Everything pointed to just what we learned had +taken place—a cruiser raid on the convoy. There +was nothing in the flashes to suggest a submarine +was firing, and I can’t see how the captain could +have had any such impression. It was enough for +him—yes, and for all of us—to know that our consort +was in trouble, and I shall always think that +he turned back to help the <i>Strongbow</i> with the full +knowledge that he would have to face hopeless +odds. He was a proper gentleman, was Captain +Fox, and so there was nothing else that he <i>could</i> +have done; and, what’s more, there’s nothing else<!-- Page 276 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +that we men in the <i>Mary Rose</i>—or any other +British sailors, for that matter—would have had +him do. It would have been against all the traditions +of the Navy to have done anything else but +stick by a consort to the last.”</p> + +<p>Able Seaman Bailey smote resoundingly the hollow +palm of his left hand with the fist of his right as +he spoke those last words, and then, in a quieter +voice, took up the thread of the story again.</p> + +<p>“That turn through sixteen points brought the +seas, which we had been running before all night, +right ahead, and all in a minute she was being +swept fore-and-aft by every second or third of them. +Anxious as the captain was to drive her full speed +(which would have been a pretty terrific gait, let +me tell you, for the ‘Ms’ are very fast), it was no +use.</p> + +<p>“Plates and rivets simply wouldn’t stand the +strain of the green water that anything like full +speed would have bored her into, and she was +finally slowed down to about twenty knots as the +best she could do without flooding the decks and +making it impossible to serve the guns and torpedo +tubes. As she was good for a lot more than this +with two boilers, I doubt very much if the third +was ever ‘flashed up.’</p> + +<p>“The first I saw of the ships which turned out to +be the enemy was some masts and funnels to the +north’ard and about a couple of points on the starboard +bow. They were making very little smoke,<!-- Page 277 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> +probably because they were oil-burners. As we +were steering on practically opposite courses, we +closed each other very quickly, and they must have +been about four miles off when the captain, evidently +becoming suspicious of their appearance, +challenged. As there was no reply, fire was opened +immediately afterward by the foremost gun, the +course at the same time being altered a point or +two to starboard, so that the other two guns would +bear. The rest of our firing was, I think, by +salvoes, or rather, it was until all but the after +gun were knocked out by the Hun’s shells.</p> + +<p>“Our first shots, fired at about 7,000 yards, were +short; but as the salvoes which followed began to +fall closer to their targets, I saw the Huns alter +to a course more or less parallel to ours, but plainly +veering away so as to open out the range. This +gave me the first silhouette view I had, and I did +not need a glass to recognize them at once as German, +the three straight funnels and the ‘swan’ +bows being quite unmistakable. Some of our +shots fell close, but I saw nothing I could be certain +of calling a hit.</p> + +<p>“However, I knew that it was not the guns the +captain was counting on, but that he was trying +to close to a range and bearing that might offer a +chance to get home with a torpedo.</p> + +<p>“Why the Huns did not open fire before they did +I have never quite been able to figure out, unless it +was that they hoped to avoid an action and so be<!-- Page 278 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> +free to pursue and sink the leading ships of the +convoy—the faster ones the <i>Mary Rose</i> had been +escorting—without interference. If that is so, +Captain Fox’s sacrifice was not in vain, for all of +these ships escaped destruction and reached port in +safety. Even as it was, they had no stomach for +an action at any range close enough to give us any +chance to damage them either with gun-fire or torpedoes. +Their plan—proper enough in its way, I +suppose—was simply to pound us to pieces with the +shells of their powerful long-range guns, and not +to close to finish us off until all our guns and torpedo +tubes were out of action. As one good salvo +from either of them was more than enough to do the +job, there wasn’t much hope of our getting in close +enough to do them serious harm. It was a bold +bid the captain made for it, though.</p> + +<p>“The course we were now on brought the seas +more abeam than ahead, so that we had been able +to shake out several more knots of speed, and this +the captain tried to use to shorten the range. We +were actually closing them at a good rate (though +I wouldn’t go so far as to say they were putting on +all their speed to avoid it), when the Huns began +firing their ranging shots. By this time we had +reached a position from which there was a very fair +bearing to launch a mouldie, and we were busy getting +one ready to slip while the fall of shot came +bounding nearer and nearer to us. I remember, in +a vague sort of way, that the first salvo was short by<!-- Page 279 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> +a long way, that the second was much nearer, and +that the third, closely bunched and exploding +loudly on striking the sea, threw up smoke-stained +spouts which fell back into each other to form a +wall of water which completely blotted out the +enemy for a second or two. Then we turned loose +the torpedo, and at almost the same instant two or +three shells from a ‘straddling’ salvo hit fair and +square and just about lifted the poor little <i>Mary</i> +out of the water.</p> + +<p>“All in a second the ship seemed to disappear in +clouds of smoke and escaping steam, and it is only +natural that my recollections of the order in which +things happened after that are a good deal confused.</p> + +<p>“I seem to have some memory of receiving from +the bridge the order to fire that torpedo, but if that +was so, it was the last order I did receive from +there, for the explosion of one of the shells carried +the voice-pipe away (though I did not twig it at +the time), and from then on it was mostly the sizzle +of spurting steam that came to my ears.</p> + +<p>“There are two reasons why I know that first +salvo hit us <i>after</i> the torpedo was launched, though +there could not have been more than a fraction of a +second between one and the other. The first is that +one of the shells carried away the lip of the tube +before penetrating the deck and cutting a steam-pipe. +If the mouldie had been in the tube it could +not have missed being exploded; or, if by a miracle<!-- Page 280 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> +that had not happened, the tube was so much +buckled that it could not have been operated. The +second reason was that fragments from that shell, +besides wounding me in the leg, even killed or blew +overboard the rest of the crew, so that there would +have been no one to get a mouldie away even if the +tubes had been in working order. I remember distinctly +seeing the torpedo hit the water, but I have +no recollection of seeing it steady to depth and begin +to run. As that is the main thing you always +watch for, I can only account for the fact I did not +see it by supposing that first hit came before the +torpedo began to run.</p> + +<p>“The shock of the explosion did not knock me off +my seat, and a wound from a jagged piece of shell +casing, though it was serious enough to put me out +of commission for five months, felt only like a sharp +prick on my leg. My pal, Able Seaman French, +collapsed in a limp heap under the tubes, and +though I saw no blood or signs of a wound, and +though I never saw a man killed before, I knew he +was done for. I don’t know to this day where he +was hit. The man whose station was at the breech-blocks +I never saw again, living or dead, so I think +he must have caught the unbroken force of the explosion +and been blown back right over the starboard +side.</p> + +<p>“This shell, in bursting the main steam-pipe, +probably had the most to do with bringing us to +stop, though another (I think of the same salvo)<!-- Page 281 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> +exploded in Number Three boiler-room and started +a big fire, probably from the oil. The clouds of +black smoke and steam rising ’midships made it impossible +to see what was going on there. I saw +some of the crew of the ’midships gun struggling +in the water, and took it that they must have been +blown there.</p> + +<p>“That gun was out of action, anyway, and, because +I did not hear it firing, I assumed that the +foremost one had also gone wrong. The after gun +was firing for all it was worth, though, and continued +to do so right up to the end.</p> + +<p>“That one salvo pretty well finished the <i>Mary +Rose</i> as a fighting ship, and as soon as the Huns +saw the shape we were in, they began to close, firing +as they came. But even then they were careful to +choose a direction of approach on which the after +gun could not be brought to bear. With the foremost +tubes out of action, and no crew to serve them +in any case, there was nothing for me to do but sit +tight and wait for orders. So I just chucked my +head-gear, which was no longer of use with the +voice-pipes gone, and settled back in my seat to +watch the show and wait till I was wanted. There +was really nothing to stay there for, but it was my +‘Action Station,’ and I knew it was the place I +would be looked for if I was needed. On the score +of cover, one place is as good an another—in a destroyer, +anyhow.</p> + +<p>“It must have been the fact that the after gun<!-- Page 282 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> +was the only one still in action that brought the +captain back from the bridge. There was really +nothing to keep him on the bridge, anyway. He +seemed to be making a sort of general round, trying +to see what shape things were in and bucking +everybody up. He was as cool and cheery as if it +was an ordinary target practice, with no Hun +cruisers closing in to blow us out of the water. I +saw him clapping some of the after gun’s crew on +the back, and when he came along to the foremost +tubes, not noticing probably that I was the only one +left there, he sung out: ‘Stick it, lads; we’re not +done yet.’ Those were his exact words. I remember +grinning to myself at being called ‘lads.’</p> + +<p>“But we <i>were</i> done, even then. The Huns were +inside of a mile by now, and firing for the water-line, +evidently trying to put us down just as +quickly as they could.</p> + +<p>“All their misses were ‘shorts.’ I don’t remember +a single ‘over.’ They were still taking no unnecessary +chances. As soon as they were close +enough to see that our torpedo tubes were probably +jammed to port, they altered course and crossed +our bows and steamed past the other side, where +there was no chance of our slipping over a mouldie +at them.</p> + +<p>“We were already settling rapidly, with a heavy +list to port, and as soon as the captain saw she was +finished, he gave the order: ‘Abandon ship. Every +man for himself!’ Those were the last words I<!-- Page 283 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> +heard him speak. He went below just after that to +see about ditching the secret books, I believe, and +when I saw him again it was just before she sank, +and he was pacing the quarterdeck and talking +quietly with the First Lieutenant.</p> + +<p>“As our only boat had been smashed to kindling-wood, +there was nothing to it but to take to the +Carley Floats, and the first thing I did after hearing +the order to abandon ship was to see to cutting +one of these loose. On account of our oilskins and +life-preservers, neither myself nor any of the three +or four lads from the after gun’s crew that ran to +the float with me could get at our clasp-knives. +Luckily, one of the Ward Room stewards came to +the rescue with three silver-plated butter-knives +from the pantry, and with these we finally managed +to worry our way through the lashings. Then we +pitched the little webbed ‘dough-nut’ (as the +Carley Floats are called) over the settling stern +and jumped after it. Four or five minutes later, +after heeling slowly to port through fifty or sixty +degrees, she gave a sudden lurch and went down, +turning completely over as she sank, so that her +bottom showed for a few seconds. The captain, +who could have followed us just as well as not, +seemed to make no effort to save himself, and must +have gone down with her. I can’t help believing +that was the way he wanted it to happen.</p> + +<p>“We had clambered into the float as fast as we +could, and I think some one must have said something<!-- Page 284 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +about the danger of being caught over an +exploding depth-charge, for we were paddling (all +of these floats have short-handled paddles lashed to +their webbing) away from the ship as fast as we +could when she went down. Someone remembered +that one of the ‘ash cans’ had been set on the +‘ready’ when we went to ‘Action Stations,’ and +no one recalled seeing it thrown back to ‘safe’ before +we went overboard. It was an anxious +moment, waiting after she ducked under the sea, +for we had not been able to paddle more than a +hundred yards, and the detonation of a depth-charge +had been known to paralyse men swimming +in the water at twice that distance. Luckily, this +particular charge must have been set for a considerable +depth, and it is also possible that the hull +of the ship absorbed or deflected some of its force. +At any rate, the shock of it, when it came, though it +knocked us violently against each other and left +a tingling sensation on the skin of all the submerged +part of one’s body, did not do anyone +serious injury.</p> + +<p>“When we came to count noses, there turned out +to be eight of us on the float—two sub-lieutenants, +the captain’s steward, myself, and the remnants of +the crew of the after gun. A few minutes later we +sighted a couple of men who looked to be struggling +in the water, but turned out to be supporting themselves +on a fragment of ‘dough-nut,’ which had +broken loose when the ship sank. That, strange +to say, was the only bit of wreckage that came to<!-- Page 285 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> +the surface. We took these men aboard, and the +ten of us weighted the overloaded float so that is +submerged till the water reached our armpits. We +were a good deal better off than it would seem, +though, for the most of us were heavily dressed, and +the animal heat of a man keeps him warm for a long +time under oilskins and wool. The only ones that +suffered much were a couple of lads who didn’t have +any more sense than to ditch most of their togs +before they went over the side. They said it was +so as not to be hampered in swimming—as if they +expected to do the ‘Australian crawl’ to Norway +or the Shetlands! These two <i>did</i> begin to get +a bit down-hearted and ‘shivery’ when the cold +struck into the marrow of their bones, and it was +with the idea of bucking them up a peg or two that +we started singing. No, I don’t just remember all +that we did warble, except, I’m glad to say, that +‘Tipperary’ wasn’t on the programme, and that +this did include two or three hymns. You’re quite +right. There’s nothing very warming to a chilled +man in hymns, and I’m not trying to account for +why we sang them. The fact remains that we <i>did</i>, +just the same, and that we all, including the chaps +in their underclothes, lived to sing again.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a name="BOWLING" id="BOWLING"><img src="images/illo12.jpg" + alt="SHE CAME BOWLING ALONG UNDER SAIL" style="border:0" + title="SHE CAME BOWLING ALONG UNDER SAIL" + height="434" width="600" /></a> +</div> +<h4>SHE CAME BOWLING ALONG UNDER SAIL</h4> + +<p>“There was a bit of a disappointment when an +armed trawler, which was evidently searching for +survivors, passed within a mile without sighting us +or hearing our shouts, but with the life-boat of one<!-- Page 286 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> +of the sunk Norwegian steamers we had better +luck. She came bowling along under sail about ten +o’clock in the morning, and, on sighting the black +silk handkerchief we hoisted at the end of a paddle-blade, +eased off her sheet and stood over to pick us +up. As there were only six men in her, we were not +badly off for room, while the store of biscuit and +potted stuff—to say nothing of smokes—they had +managed to throw aboard before their ship sunk +was more than enough for the two days that it took +us to row and sail to Bergen.”</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><!-- Page 287 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>ROUNDING UP FRITZ</h3> + + +<p>There are only two or three conditions under +which a destroyer can hope to surprise a U-boat +on the surface, and none of these is approximated +at the end of a clear North Sea summer +afternoon with the stalking craft trying to +approach from a direction which silhouettes its +leanly purposeful profile against the golden glimmer +of the sunset clouds. This particular capsule +of Kultur, rising with typical Hunnish +effrontery for his evening constitutional in an +especially well-watched area while it was yet broad +daylight, still had the advantage of visibility sufficiently +on his side to make the thing a good deal +less risky than it looked. The skipper, doubtless +coolly puffing his pipe as he lounged over the rail +of the bridge and filled his lungs with fresh air, +must have seen the masts and funnels of the speeding +<i>Flash</i> for a good half hour before the latter’s +look-out sang out that he had picked up the conning-tower +of what looked to be a U-boat two +points off the starboard bow; so that all that was +needed was the change of course which followed +that report to give Fritz fair warning that it was<!-- Page 288 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> +time to hide his head for a while. Indeed, he must +have been going down even as he was sighted, for +it was the matter of but a very few seconds more +before the <i>Flash</i> found herself tearing at upwards +of a thousand yards a minute into an empty sea.</p> + +<p>Under the circumstances, it is probable we gave +that Fritz a fairly good run for his money in +showering the spot where he had disappeared with +what depth-charges we could spare, and then, like +a fox-terrier after a rat, standing by and “watching +the hole.” Unluckily, we had used a good part +of our stock of “cans” the day before, when a +rather more promising opportunity for attack had +offered itself, while as for “watching the hole,” +this particular patch of the North Sea chanced to +be one in which that way of playing the game was +fraught with special difficulties because it was sufficiently +shallow for a submarine to lie doggo on +the bottom without danger of having its shell +crushed in by the pressure of the water. This +defeated the uncannily sure way of tracking the +U-boat down by “listening,” and demanded another +form of special treatment, which we were not, +however, at the moment prepared to administer.</p> + +<p>Slim as the chance was, the captain was reluctant +to leave while any hope remained, and it was +only a signal ordering the <i>Flash</i> to join in some +other work that had turned up (a destroyer is +subject to as many kinds of summons as a country +doctor) that took him off in the end. Mooring a<!-- Page 289 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +buoy to mark the spot for “future reference,” the +captain saw her headed off on the course she was +to hold till daybreak, and then took me down to the +Chart House for a bowl of ship’s cocoa before turning +in. It was some question I asked about the +practice of placing buoys over possible U-boat +graveyards, to make it easy to resume investigations +if desired, that started him on a train of anti-submarine +reminiscence that led back to one of the +smartest achievements of its kind in the whole +course of the sea war.</p> + +<p>“There are times,” he said, leaning back on the +narrow couch that served as his “sea-bed,” and +bracing with outstretched legs against the twisting +roll, “that a Fritz will do things that would lead a +superficial observer to think that he had a sense of +humour. Of course, we know that he hasn’t anything +of the kind (any more than he has honour, +sportsmanship, decency, or any other of the attributes +of a normal civilised human being). But the +illusion is there just the same, especially when he +tries on such little stunts as the one he incubated +a couple of months ago in connection with a buoy +I dropped to mark the spot where there was a +chance that my depth-charges might have sent him +to the bottom.</p> + +<p>“It was just about such an ‘indeterminate’ sort +of a strafe as the one we’ve just had—no chance for +gun-fire, not much to go by for planting depth-charges, +and, in the end, nothing definite to indicate<!-- Page 290 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> +that any good has been done. So, in case it was +decided that my report was of a nature to justify +further looking into, I left a securely moored buoy +to furnish a guide as to where to begin, quite as +we have to-night. Well, it chanced that the S.N.O. +at Base reckoned that there was just enough of a +hope to warrant following up. Indeed, you may +be sure there isn’t much that isn’t followed up +these days, now that we’ve got our whole comprehensive +plan into operation and adequate craft to +support it with. So he sent out quite a little fleet +of us—craft fitted to do all the various little odds +and ends of things that help to make sure one way +or the other what has really happened to Fritz. +Luckily, <i>Flash</i> was able to return with them. If +she had not—if someone who had not seen the lay +of things after the strafe the night before had not +been along to ‘draw comparisons’—Fritz’s little +joke might have turned out a good deal more +pointed than it did.</p> + +<p>“We picked up the buoy without any difficulty, +as the day was fine and the sea fairly smooth—just +the weather one wanted for that kind of work. +While we were still a mile or more distant, the lookout +reported a broad patch of oil spreading out from +the buoy for several hundred yards on all sides. +This became visible from the bridge presently, and +at almost the same time my glass showed fragments +of what appeared to be wreckage floating both in +and beyond the ‘sleek’ of oil. Now if there had<!-- Page 291 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> +been any evidence whatever of either oil or wreckage +the night before I should not have failed to +hail this morning’s exhibit with a glad whoop and +nose right in to investigate. But as, when I gave +up the fight, I had dropped that buoy into an extremely +clean patch of water—even after the stirring +my depth-charges had given it—the plenitude +of flotsam did not fail to arouse a certain amount +of suspicion.</p> + +<p>“Ordering the sloops and trawlers to stand-off-and-on +at a safe distance, I went with the <i>Flash</i> to +have a look at a number of fragments that were +floating a couple of cables’ lengths away from the +buoy. A piece of box—evidently a preserved fruit +or condensed milk case—with German letters stencilled +across one end was undoubtedly of enemy +origin, as was also a biscuit tin with patches of its +gaudy paper still adhering to it. I did not like the +careful way the cover of the latter had been put on, +however, and, besides, tins and cases are quite the +sort of thing any submarine throws over just as +fast as it is through with them. It was some real +wreckage I was looking for, and this it presently +appeared that I had found when the bow wave +threw aside a deeply floating fragment of what—even +before we picked it up—I recognised as newly +split teak. Closer inspection revealed the fact that +it was newly split all right, but also the fact that +an axe or hatchet had had a good deal to do with +the splitting. What had probably been a part of a<!-- Page 292 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> +bunk or locker had apparently been prised off with +a bar and then chopped up into jagged strips. Attempts +to obliterate the marks of bar and axe by +pounding them against some rough metal surface +had been too hasty and crude to effect their +purpose.</p> + +<p>“‘That settles it,’ I said to myself. ‘Fritz is trying +to play a little joke on us by making us think +he is lying blown-up on the bottom, while, in fact, +he is probably lying off somewhere waiting to slip +a slug into one of the most likely looking of the +salvage ships. Now that we’ve twigged the game, +however, we’ll have to do what we can to defeat +it.’ As senior officer, I ordered the three destroyers +present to start screening in widening circles, while—on +the off-chance that there really was a wreck +on the bottom—a pair of trawlers were sent to drag +about the bottom under the messy patch with an +‘explosive sweep.’</p> + +<p>“My diagnosis was quite correct as far as it +went, but it did not go quite far enough; still—by +the special intervention of the sweet little cherubim +who sits up aloft to keep watch o’er the life of poor +Jack—my plan of operation was quite as sound as +if I had all the facts of the case spread out before +me. Had the U-boat really been lurking round +waiting for a pot at some of the ships trying to save +his supposed remains—something that we never +gathered any definite evidence on—our screening +tactics would probably have prevented his success;<!-- Page 293 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> +while the trawlers, with their sweep, furnished the +best antidote for the little surprise party that he +already <i>had</i> prepared for us.</p> + +<p>“Scarcely had the trawlers entered the oily area +than the jar of a heavy under-sea explosion jolted +against the bottom of the <i>Flash</i>, which, a thousand +yards distant, was just beginning to work up to +full speed. Almost immediately three or four other +explosions followed, coming so close together as to +make one rippling detonation of tremendous violence. +An instant later I saw several columns of +grimy foam shoot skyward, two or three of them so +close together that they seemed to ‘boil’ into each +other as they spilled and spread in falling. Although +neither of the trawlers appeared to be +immediately over any of the explosions, both of +them received terrific shocks. One of them I distinctly +saw rear up till it seemed almost to be +balanced on its rudder-post as a round hump of +green water drove under it, while the scuppers of +the other spurted white as they cleared the flood +that a spreading foam geyser had thrown upon the +deck. It seemed impossible that either of them +could survive such shocks as I knew they must have +received, and I fully expected to see nothing better +than two foundering wrecks emerge from the +smother which hovered above the scene of the explosions. +Imagine my surprise, then, when two junk-like +profiles (they were both of the marvellously +sea-worthy ‘Iceland trawler’ type) came bobbing<!-- Page 294 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> +serenely into sight again, and I noted with my glass +that neither appeared to have suffered serious damage. +On the score of lives, a tom-cat has nothing +the best of a trawler. If it had been otherwise our +whole fleet of them—and they, with the drifters, +form the main strands of the finer meshes of our +anti-U-boat net—would have been wiped out many +times over.</p> + +<p>“At the instant the jar of the first explosion +made itself felt, the thought flashed through my +mind that there actually was a U-boat lying on the +bottom, and that the explosive charge on the sweep +had been detonated against its hull. The +‘bunched’ explosions immediately following also +lent themselves to this theory, and it was not till +the distinct columns of blown water began rising +in the air that I surmised the real cause of them—mines, +probably laid so close together that the +explosion of the first had set off the others. This +fact we were shortly able to establish beyond a +doubt.</p> + +<p>“What had happened, as nearly as we could +reconstruct it, was this: The U-boat had been a +mine-layer, probably interrupted on its way to lay +its eggs off one of our main fleet bases. The +chances are that it had been sufficiently injured +by my depth-charges to make it more of a risk than +its skipper cared to take to proceed farther from his +base; quite likely, indeed, he had to put back at +once. Then the chance of preparing a little surprise<!-- Page 295 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> +party for the ship responsible for his trouble +must have occurred to him, and the result was that +a snug little nest of mines was laid all the way +around the marking buoy. Having more mines +than he needed to barrage the buoy, he had scuttled +several of those remaining after the first job was +completed, and these had been the ones set off by +the explosive charge on the trawlers’ sweep. The +spreading of wreckage as bait around the trap was +probably an afterthought, for it was so hurriedly +done that it really defeated the end it was intended +to accomplish. I am inclined to think, in fact, that, +if the mines had laid round the buoy, with no +spread of oil or wreckage left to decoy us into them, +they might have had a victim or two to their credit. +They were laid shallow enough to have bumped +both sloops and destroyers, and the exploding of +a mine against the bows of one or the other of +these may well have been the first warning we had +of Fritz’s little joke. As it was, that part of the +show was so crudely done that it gave away that +something was wrong.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I have always thought of that as ‘Fritz’s +little joke,’” continued the captain, bracing himself +at a new angle to meet a rollicking cork-screw +action that was working into the ship’s wallowings. +“It was just the sort of a plant I would like to +have left for Fritz, if our rôles had been reversed, +and for a while I felt rather more kindly toward +all Fritzes on account of having knocked up<!-- Page 296 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> +against it. That feeling persisted until three or +four months later, when the fortunes of war—in +the shape of a luckily-planted depth-charge—paved +the way for an opportunity for me to tell the story +to a certain Hun <i>Unterseeboot</i> officer during the +hour or two he was my guest on the way to base. +He spoke English fairly, and understood it well; +so that I was able to run through the yarn just +about as I have told it to you. He gave vent to his +approval in guttural ‘Ya’s’ and grunts of satisfaction +until I ended by asking him if he didn’t +think it was a jolly clever little joke. And what do +you think he said to that?</p> + +<p>“‘Choke,’ he boomed explosively; ‘choke, vy, +mein frent, dot vos not ein choke ad all. He vos +dryin to zink your destroy’r. Dot ist no choke.’”</p> + +<p>The captain stretched himself with a whimsical +smile. “How unpleasant it would be to be shipmates +with a chap like that who couldn’t see the +funny side of being blown up,” he observed +presently.</p> + +<p>“Just as unpleasant,” I replied, “as it is pleasant +to be shipmates with a man who <i>could</i>.”</p> + +<p>After thus rising to the occasion, I was emboldened +to ask the captain to tell me a little more +about that “luckily-planted depth-charge” he had +referred to so casually, and its train of consequences.</p> + +<p>“Here is the result,” he said with a smile, handing +me several small kodak prints from his pocketbook.<!-- Page 297 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> +“What little yarn there is to tell I’ll rattle +off for you with pleasure after I’ve been up to the +bridge for a bit of a ‘look-see.’ Seems as if she is +banging into it harder than she ought for this +course and speed.”</p> + +<p>The light went out as the automatic switch cut +off the current with the opening of the door, and +when it flashed on again, as the door was +slammed shut, I found myself alone, with the prints +lying in the middle of the chart of the North Sea. +Two of these showed a thin sliver of a submarine +that might have been of almost any type. A third, +however, showed an unmistakable U-boat, heeling +slightly, and with a whaler alongside, evidently in +the act of taking off some of the men crowded upon +the narrow forward deck. And in the background +of this print was lying a long slender four-funneled +destroyer that I recognised at once as either the +<i>Flash</i> or another of the same class. On the back +of this print was written “Quarter view of U.C.—at +14.10. <i>Flash’s</i> whaler transferring prisoners; +<i>Splash’s</i> whaler’s crew clearing decks of wounded.”</p> + +<p>A fourth print, similar to the third but much +covered with arrows and writing, appeared to be a +kind of key to the latter. An angling sort of bar, +which appeared as a black line above the bows in +the photograph, was labelled “Nut Cutter,” and +several other characteristic U-boat devices were +similarly indicated. These all established points of +great technical value, doubtless, but a keener<!-- Page 298 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> +human interest attached to the legends penciled at +the feather ends of arrows pointing to two figures +on the deck of the submarine, just abaft the conning-tower. +Opposite the one that appeared to be +leaning over a light rail, with one arm extended as +though he was in the act of giving a command, +was written, “Deceased captain of submarine.” +Against the other, a sprawling inert heap huddled +up against the conning-tower, appeared, “Man +with both legs shot off (alive).”</p> + +<p>There was a lot of history crowded into that +scrawled-over print, and I was still gazing at it +with awed fascination when the opening door +winked off the light, and then closed again to reveal +the captain, dripping with the blown brine of the +wave that the <i>Flash</i> had put her nose into at the +moment he was coming down the ladder.</p> + +<p>“Rather more of a sea than I expected to-night,” +he said as he pulled his duffel-coat over his head +and sat down to kick off his sea-boots; “so I’ve +slowed her down a few knots and we’ll jog along +easy till daylight.” Then, as he recognised the +photo in my hand, “Rather a grim story that little +kodak tells, isn’t it? You’ll find just about all of +the yarn you were asking for down there in black +and white.”</p> + +<p>“Not quite,” I replied hastily, recognising from +long experience the forerunning signs of a modest +man trying to side-step going into details respecting +some episode in which he happens to have<!-- Page 299 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> +played a leading part. “Not quite. It chances +that I’ve heard something of the bagging of U.C.—from +Admiral —— not long after it occurred, and +he said it was one of the cleverest bits of work of +the kind that anyone has pulled off. I didn’t connect +you and the <i>Flash</i> with it, though. But now +that you’re caught with the goods, the chance to +hear several of the details the Admiral had failed +to learn is too good to miss. How did you manage +to slip up on her in the first place, and did you +wing her skipper at the outset, and——?”</p> + +<p>Evidently figuring it would be best not to let me +pile up too big a lead of questions for him to answer, +the captain sat down resignedly and took up +the thread of the story at somewhere near the beginning.</p> + +<p>“How did we manage to slip up on her?” he +repeated. “Well, principally, I should say, because +she was ‘preoccupied.’ I told you last night +that I used to get away for a bit of tiger shooting +while I was on Eastern stations, and you mentioned +that you’d had a go at it yourself now and then. +So we both have probably picked up a smattering +of the ways of tigers. Now I’ve always maintained +that the fact that I had given a bit of study to the +ways of man-eaters was a big help to me in understanding +the ways of Huns. A hungry tiger, on +the prowl for something to devour, is about the +hardest brute in the world to stalk successfully; +while, on the other hand, one that has made its<!-- Page 300 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> +kill and is sating its bloody lust upon it is just +about the easiest. It’s just the same with a U-boat. +The one best chance we have of surprising one on +the surface is while it is in the act of sinking a +merchantman by bombs or shell-fire, or just after +the victim has been torpedoed and the pirate is +standing-by to fire on the boats and pick up any +officers it may think worth while to take prisoner. +That was what was responsible for the luck that +befell me in the instance in question. The U.C.—a +day or two previously to the one on which she +was slated to meet her finish, had sunk the British +merchantman <i>Hilda Bronson</i>, and carried off as +prisoners the captain and mate. These men, after +we rescued them, were able to give us some account +of how their hosts spent the morning of the day on +which they encountered the <i>Flash</i>. Their general +practice, of course, was to submerge in the daytime +and run on the surface, charging batteries, during +the night. Emboldened by two or three recent successes +in sinking small merchantmen by gun-fire +and bombs, they appeared to have become very contemptuous +of our anti-submarine measures, and +declared that they were just as safe on the surface +in the daytime as at night. Bearing out the probability +that these words were by no means spoken +in jest, is the fact that they did not dive at daybreak, +but continued to cruise on the surface on +the look out for unarmed ships which could be +safely sunk without risking the loss of a torpedo or<!-- Page 301 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> +damage to themselves by gun-fire. This class of +ships—fortunately, there are few of them left save +under neutral flags—was the U-boat’s favourite +prey.</p> + +<p>“About eight o’clock their search was rewarded. +The two British sailors heard a number of shots, +and presently understood the U-boat skipper to declare +that he had just put down a small Norwegian +steamer with shell-fire. As they were still full up +with the stores looted from the <i>Hilda Bronson</i>, no +attempt was made to take off anything from the +sinking Norwegian. All morning the pirate continued +cruising on the surface, diving only once. +Great attention was given to surroundings, stops +being made about once an hour to heave the lead. +In this they displayed good sense beyond a doubt, +for it is worth a lot to a submarine to know whether +it can dive straight on to the bottom without encountering +a pressure strong enough to crush it in.</p> + +<p>“About noon another helpless victim—this time +a British merchant steamer—was sighted, and the +imprisoned sailors counted nine shots before tremendous +consternation and confusion spread +through the submarine as fire was opened on her +by some ship coming up from the same direction as +the merchantman bore, and she dived with all possible +dispatch. This was where the <i>Flash</i> began to +take a hand in the game.</p> + +<p>“Now the fact that this particular Fritz ought +easily to have sighted us at twice the distance at<!-- Page 302 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> +which we opened with our foremost 12-pounder +bears out exactly what I said about the traits the +Hun and the tiger have in common. They are both +‘foul-feeders,’ and begin to see so red, once the +blood-lust of prospective satiation is upon them, +that they are half blinded to everything else. If +this fellow hadn’t been so absorbed in doing that +little steamer to death he need never have let us +get within a range that would have permitted more +than a swift shot or two at his disappearing conning-tower. +It was his sheer ‘blood-drunkenness’ +that gave us our chance.</p> + +<p>“It was a day of very low visibility—not over a +mile and a half, or two miles at the outside—and I +was out on a bit of an escort stunt of small importance. +The first intimation I had that anything +out of the usual run was afoot came in the form of +sharp gun-fire on my starboard beam. It sounded +fairly close at hand, and though no ship was visible, +there was just a hint of luminosity in the mist-curtain +to indicate the direction of the gun-flashes. +The helm was immediately put hard-a-port and the +telegraphs at Full Speed, and off went the <i>Flash</i> to +investigate. Scarcely had I turned than a wireless +signal was brought to me on the bridge repeating +the calls of assistance of a steamer that was +being shelled by an enemy submarine. That little +‘flying start’ of mine, which involved leaving the +ship I was escorting and jumping out without +waiting for orders, gave me the minute or so to<!-- Page 303 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> +the good which probably made all the difference +between success and failure. But that is quite +characteristic of destroyer work; more than in any +other class of ship, you are called on to decide for +yourself, to jump out on your own.</p> + +<p>“The first thing I saw was the dim blur of a +small merchantman taking shape in the mist, and +as the image sharpened, the splash of falling projectiles +became visible. She was throwing out a +cloud of smoke and zigzagging in a panicky sort of +way in an endeavour to avoid the shells which were +exploding nearer and nearer at every shot. As she +caught sight of the <i>Flash</i> she altered course and +headed straight up for us, and, busy as my mind +was at the moment, I could not help thinking how +like her action was to that of an Aberdeen pup I +used to own when he saw me coming to extricate +him from his daily scrap with a neighbour’s fox +terrier.</p> + +<p>“It was just at the moment that the merchantman +turned up to get under our wing that the +sharpening gun-flashes began revealing the conning-tower +of a submarine. We had gone to Action +Stations at once, of course, and I am practically +certain that the opening shot of the fo’c’sl’ gun was +the first warning Fritz had that his little kultur +course was about to be interrupted. Under the +circumstances, the fact that he effected his disappearing +act in from thirty to forty seconds indicates +very smart handling; too smart, indeed, to<!-- Page 304 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> +give us a fair chance to get in a hit with a shell, +although the gunners made a very keen bid for it. +Their turn came a few moments later, however.</p> + +<p>“Once Fritz had passed from sight there was +only one thing to do, the thing we <i>tried</i> to do to-night—depth-charge +him. And there really was +no difference in what we did on the one occasion +and what we did on the other—nothing, I mean to +say, except the result. Estimating his course from +the point of submergence, I steered directly over +where I judged he would be and let go one of those +very useful type ‘——’ charges. Well,”—the captain +smiled in a deprecatory sort of way—“the +depth-charge isn’t exactly what you’d call a +‘weapon of precision,’ and so it follows that when +you hit what you are after with one it must be +largely a matter of luck. Judgment? Oh, yes, a +certain amount of it, but I’d rather have luck than +judgment any day. At any rate, this was my lucky +day. Within fifteen seconds from the moment I +felt the jolt of the detonating charge Fritz’s conning-tower +was breaking surface on my starboard +beam. Helm had been put hard-a-port as the charge +was dropped, so that all the starboard guns were +bearing on the conning-tower the instant it bobbed +up. This was right on the outer rim of the ‘boil’ +of the explosion—just where it would be expected—and, +of course, it presented an easy target. To say +it was riddled would be putting it mildly. One +shot alone from the foremost six-pounder would<!-- Page 305 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> +have made it out of the question for it to dive again, +even had other complications which had already +set in left it in shape to face submergence.</p> + +<p>“A second or two more, and the whole length of +our bag was showing, riding fairly level fore-and-aft, +but with a slight list to starboard. We had now +turned, and from our position on the submarine’s +port quarter could plainly see the crew come bobbing +out of the hatch on to the deck. Each of +them had his hands lifted in the approved ‘Kamerad’ +fashion, and took good care to keep them +there as long as they noticed any active movement +around the business ends of our guns. As a matter +of fact, as there had been no colours flying to +strike, those lifted hands were the only tangible +tokens of surrender we received. As we had her at +our mercy, however, they looked conclusive enough +for me, and I sent a boat away as quickly as it +could be lowered and manned.</p> + +<p>“It was not until this boat returned that I +learned of the two British merchant marine +officers who had been aboard her through it all. +The Huns had crowded them out in their stampede +for the hatches, so that they had been the very last +to reach the deck. Mr. X——, who was in charge +of the whaler, compensated as fully as he could for +this by taking them off first. The experiences they +had been through had been just about as terrible +as men could ever be called upon to face; and yet, +when they clambered aboard <i>Flash</i>, they were smiling,<!-- Page 306 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> +clear of head and eye, and altogether quite unshaken. +You’ve certainly got to take off your hat +to these merchant marine chaps; they’ve fought +half the battle for the Navy.</p> + +<p>“The story they had to tell of what they had +seen and heard during their enforced cruise in the +U-boat was an interesting one, but on the final act—largely +because the curtain had been rung down +so quickly—there was little they could add to what +had passed before my own eye. The shock from the +depth-charge—which appears to have detonated +just about right to have the maximum effect—was +terrific. The whole submarine seemed to have been +forced sideways through the water by the jolt, and +just as all the lights went out one of them said that +he saw the starboard side of the compartment he +was in—it was what would correspond to the Ward +Room, I believe, a space more or less reserved for +the officers—bending inward before the pressure. +Instantly the spurt of water was heard flooding in +both fore and aft, and that alone was sufficient to +make it imperative for her to rise at once. As it +was only a minute or two since she submerged, +everyone was at station for bringing her to the +surface again, so that not a second was lost in +spite of the inevitable confusion following the sudden +dive and the explosion of the depth-charge.</p> + +<p>“There had been a mad lot of rushes for the +ladders and hatches, but the skipper, it appears, got +up first, through the conning-tower to the bridge,<!-- Page 307 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> +as the official leader of the ‘Kamerad Parade.’ He +was just in time to connect with the first shell from +our foremost six-pounder, and that, or one of the +succeeding projectiles which were fired before it +was evident they were trying to surrender, accounted +for several others in the van of the opening +rush. The officer in charge of the whaler reported +seeing several dead bodies lying on the deck and +floating in the water, among these being that of +the captain, which was taken back to Base and +given a naval funeral. There were also two or +three wounded. Of unwounded there were fifteen +men and two officers, out of something like twenty-four +in the original crew. One of the officers +claimed to be a relation of Prince Henry of Prussia, +but why he didn’t claim the Kaiser himself, who is +full brother to Prince Henry, I could never quite +make out. As this was the same officer I told you +of as not being able to see a joke, I didn’t think +it worth while to try to follow the ramifications of +his family tree any farther. The engineer asserted +that he had already been in eight warships which +had been destroyed, these including a battleship +and two or three cruisers and motor launches. I +did the best I could to comfort him by telling him +that, in case the <i>Flash</i> wasn’t put down by a U-boat +in the three or four hours which would elapse before +we made Base, he need have no further worries +on the sinking score for some time to come. Just +the same,” he concluded, with a shake of the head,<!-- Page 308 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> +“I was glad to see that chap safely over the side. +No sailor likes to be shipmates with a ‘Jonah,’ +especially in times like these.</p> + +<p>“By the time we had finished transferring the +prisoners the <i>Splash</i> had joined us, and her captain, +being my senior, took charge of the rest of the +show. On my reporting that I had several severely +wounded Huns aboard, he ordered me to return to +Base with them.</p> + +<p>“I think that’s about all there is to the yarn,” +said the captain, rising and starting to pull on his +sea-togs preparatory to going up for another +“look-see” before turning in. Then something +flashed to his mind as an afterthought, and he relaxed +for a moment, red of face and breathless, from +a struggle with a refractory boot.</p> + +<p>“There was one thing I shall always be glad +about in connection with that little affair,” he said +thoughtfully, a really serious look in his eyes for +almost the first time since I had seen him directing +the dropping of the depth-charges early in the evening; +“and that is that I didn’t know in advance +that those two British merchant marine officers +were imprisoned in the U.C. ‘——’ with the Huns +when we came driving down to drop a ‘can’ on her. +My duty would have been quite clear, of course, +and, as you doubtless know, some of our chaps have +faced harder alternatives than that without flinching +or deviating an iota from the one thing that it +was up to them to do; but, just the same, I’m not<!-- Page 309 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> +half certain that the instinct, or whatever you +want to call it, which seemed to jog my elbow at +the psychological moment that charge had to be let +go to do its best work—I’m not at all sure that instinct +would have served me so well had I known +that success might have to be purchased by sending +two of my own countrymen—yes, more than that, +two sailors like myself—to eternity with the +pirates who held them as hostages. Yes, it was a +mercy that I didn’t have that on my mind at the +moment when I needed all the wits and nerve I had +to get that ‘can’ off in the right place.”</p> + +<p>Visibly embarrassed at having allowed his feelings +to betray him—a British naval officer—into a +display of something almost akin to emotion, the +captain stamped noisily into the stuck sea-boot and +disappeared, behind a slammed door, into the night.</p> + +<hr style="width: 80%;" /> + +<h5>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE</h5> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>1. Numerous inconsistencies in capitalization, hyphenation and spelling +in the text are retained as in the original publication.</p> + +<p>2. The four brief footnotes have been moved to the end of the relevant paragraph.</p> + +<p>3. Many of the illustrations are closely tied to passages in the text, and +these illustrations have been moved from their original positions to precede the +paragraph in which the relevant text appears.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sea-Hounds, by Lewis R. Freeman + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEA-HOUNDS *** + +***** This file should be named 33438-h.htm or 33438-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/4/3/33438/ + +Produced by Greg Bergquist, David J. 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