H.M.S. "Capella"
With the least possible delay the two chums joined the _Capella_ at
Southampton. She was one of an entirely new class of vessel, built for
the express purpose of ridding the high seas of the presence of the
modern pirates. Looking at her as she lay in the Empress Dock, there
was little about her to attract the eye. A raised fo'c'sle and poop,
and a low superstructure abaft the funnel, two stumpy masts and
grey-coloured "wall" sides, gave her the appearance of a trawler. It
was only when one had an opportunity of seeing her in dry dock, where
her graceful under-body, with its fine "entry" and clean run aft, was
visible, that any idea of her speed could be arrived at. Further
details would be undesirable. Sufficient to add, to quote a Yankee
journalist who had been given an opportunity of paying a visit to the
Grand Fleet and inspecting the component units of the greatest armada
that the world has yet seen, the class to which she belonged were "some
boats". The exigencies of the hitherto unprecedented method of
carrying out the naval side of the Great War had demanded the creation
of large flotillas of small motor-driven hornets. In the initial
stages the want was temporarily supplied through the patriotism of
owners of private motor-boats. These craft, good in their way, were
handicapped by a lack of uniformity. Nevertheless they served as an
excellent training-school until the Admiralty with remarkable celerity
produced the novel type of craft to which the _Capella_ belonged.
The _Capella_ carried a large crew in proportion to her size--four
officers and twenty-four men. Her skipper was Stanley Syllenger, who
held the rank of Lieutenant-Commander, R.N.R. He was a big, bluff man
of about thirty-five, a strict disciplinarian, and a stickler for duty.
He could be very outspoken when he wanted, which was fairly frequently,
but withal he was of a thoroughly good-natured disposition.
There were two Sub-lieutenants, R.N.R. The senior was John Barry, a
very mild type of young officer. He usually spoke in a very soft
voice, except when occasion warranted, when he could bellow in a way
that would take a stranger entirely by surprise. It seemed incredible
that such a bull voice could belong to such a dapper little man as John
Barry.
The other Sub was Noel Fox--a tall, deep-chested fellow of twenty,
boisterous, and full of spirits. In five crowded years he had gained a
good knowledge of three oceans, and a nodding acquaintance with the
remaining two. Beginning his career on board a five-masted sailing
ship, he had served in tramps, "intermediates", and mail steamers until
the outbreak of the war, when he found himself appointed to an armed
liner that abruptly terminated her existence by trying conclusions with
a German mine.
Captain Syllenger and Sub-lieutenant Barry were pacing the diminutive
quarter-deck of the _Capella_ as she lay alongside the quay. The
skipper had heard officially that morning of the appointment of two
temporary midshipmen to the craft under his command. "Hanged if I can
understand it, Barry!" he exclaimed in his outspoken manner. "What's
the idea of turning the _Capella_ into a nursery, I should like to
know! These youngsters are somebody's pigeons, I suppose. The usual
yarn. Influence up topsides does the trick, and we're saddled with two
raw lubbers."
"There is no mention of their having had previous sea-service, sir?"
remarked Barry. "But perhaps they'll turn out fairly smart."
"They will," added the Lieutenant-Commander grimly; "that is, if I have
anything to do with them for any length of time. But, by Jove! here
they are, unless I'm much mistaken."
Looking rather self-conscious in their brand-new uniforms, Ross and
Vernon doubled down the steeply sloping gangway. As they came aboard,
Syllenger noted with professional satisfaction that they both saluted
the quarter-deck. The action showed, by one thing at least, they were
not the greenhorns he expected to receive.
"You have had no previous experience, I believe?" he asked, after the
midshipmen had introduced themselves.
"Very little, beyond knocking about in yachts and boats," replied Ross.
"That's something," decided the skipper. "A fellow who starts his
career in a small boat has the makings of a good seaman. It is rare
indeed that a man who goes straight to sea in a steamship makes a smart
man in a boat. If ever you go on patrol duty you'll find your
experience of value. By the by, I suppose you know our particular job?"
"Yes, sir," replied Ross. "Hunting submarines."
"Ever seen one?" asked Syllenger abruptly.
"Several of the D and E classes manoeuvring in Plymouth Sound."
"But a German one?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where?"
"We've both spent nearly a week on board an unterseeboot, sir."
The skipper sternly regarded the two midshipmen.
"Look here," he said. "If you think you've come on board to gammon me,
the sooner you get that idea out of your heads the better. There's no
room on the _Capella_ for a pair of modern Ananiases."
Ross said nothing. From the outside left breast-pocket of his
"undress" coat he produced a white foolscap envelope, bearing in blue
the "foul anchor" badge of the Admiralty.
The Lieutenant-Commander took the proffered envelope somewhat
suspiciously. He more than half expected that it was a letter of
introduction from a high official at Whitehall, on the strength of
which the two midshipmen felt inclined to "put on side".
Instead, he found that it contained an autograph letter from the
Admiralty, thanking the lads for their bravery and presence of mind,
whereby they materially assisted in the preservation of H.M.S.
_Tremendous_ and in the destruction of two of the enemy submarines.
The document finished by congratulating Ross and Vernon on their escape
from U75, and trusted that their career as midshipmen of the R.N.R.
would be marked with success.
Syllenger read it through carefully and slowly, deliberately returned
it to the envelope, and handed it back to Ross. Then he held out his
hand.
"I'm sorry for what I've said," he declared simply. "Forget it, if you
can. Come and lunch with me at one bell."
"Thank you, sir," replied Ross in answer to the invitation; then, after
a pause, he added: "we didn't want to brag about it, but you made us."
"So I understand," said the skipper. "I've misjudged the pair of you,
but the least said about my part of it the better, I fancy."
He hailed a couple of men, instructing them to strike the midshipmen's
luggage down the companion-ladder. Ross and Vernon followed, to be
introduced to their new quarters.
Owing to the _Capella's_ shallow draught, the cabin space was rather
limited. The Captain's quarters were a double cabin, comprising a
state-room and sleeping-room, in a deck-house under the bridge. The
two Subs had each a small "dog-box", as they termed it, aft on the
starboard side. The engineer had a similar cabin on the port side.
Adjoining his quarters was another cabin, which had hitherto been used
as an overflow receptacle for officers' luggage. This had now been
cleared out, and hooks provided for the two midshipmen to sling their
hammocks. The slinging and unlashing of the hammocks was performed by
a servant, to whom Ross and Vernon had each to pay ten shillings a
month for the privilege. During the day the cabin made a fairly
comfortable room, although the furniture was Spartan-like in its
simplicity.
At six bells (11 a.m.) the _Capella_, having replenished her fuel and
stores, and made good slight defects, was "tracked" out of the dock.
An hour later she left Southampton, bound for a rendezvous off Beachy
Head, near which a U-boat had been reported to have made an
unsuccessful attack upon a swift merchant vessel.
The run down Southampton Water was necessarily performed at
quarter-speed, for in spite of her light displacement the _Capella's_
wash at full speed was almost equal to that of a liner. Even as it
was, a long line of white foam lashed itself upon the mudflats several
minutes after she had passed.
When Calshot Castle was abreast, speed was increased to 30 knots.
There was an easterly breeze blowing against the ebb-tide, with the
result that quite a choppy sea was met with outside Southampton Water.
Like a knife, the sharp cutwater of the _Capella_ cleft the waves,
sending up showers of white spray; but such was her speed that, before
the wind could carry the spindrift on deck, the swift vessel was beyond
the cascade of foam. She hardly felt the motion of the waves; indeed,
she was so steady that it was possible to place a pail of water on deck
without any of the contents being spilt by the "lift" of the ship.
Under the guidance of Noel Fox, the midshipmen made the round of the
vessel, the Sub explaining everything to them in detail. Already the
lads had taken a great fancy to the Sub, and Fox reciprocated the
sentiment. He had a way about him that enabled him to give particulars
of the most intricate mechanism without having to resort to dry,
parrot-like instruction.
By the time he had explained the ingenious devices used to entrap the
German unterseebooten, Ross and Vernon felt inclined to marvel how it
was they found themselves on board the _Capella_, since only sheer good
luck had saved U75 from being doomed during every hour of their brief
and involuntary detention.
"Yes, we can mop up the German submarines quicker than they can turn
them out," said the Sub. "Of course I don't mean to say that a few of
them won't get a smack at some of our ships for some time to come; but
all the same we are giving them beans. From a strictly professional
point of view we would be sorry if Old Turps abandoned his 'effectual'
blockade. Our chances of having a high old game with the
unterseebooten would be considerably reduced."
"There are still some in the English Channel," hazarded Vernon.
"Yes, a few; but have you noticed how those fellows fight shy of Dover?
They shun it like the plague. It's horribly unhealthy for them. D'ye
know why? Perhaps you wouldn't have paid much attention to it, but
some months ago the Admiralty issued a 'Notice to Mariners', stating
that the Straits of Dover were heavily mined, and that all shipping was
to pass through the Downs within three miles of the Kentish coast.
"So it's fairly safe to assume that the few stray unterseebooten that
are still lurking in the Channel have made the passage round the north
coast of Scotland. It's only a matter of time before we bag the lot, I
fancy."
"And our submarines?" enquired Ross.
"Have fewer opportunities since the Hun battleships and cruisers have
such a decided inclination to remain in harbour," rejoined Fox. "When
there's a chance, you can bet your bottom dollar that our fellows seize
it. Quite recently one of our submarines found herself alone and
disabled in the Bight of Heligoland. Undismayed, her
lieutenant-commander signalled to a passing German trawler, covered her
with his guns, and made the Hun tow the crippled submarine into British
waters. Then he released his involuntary benefactor, but before so
doing can you guess what he did?"
"No," replied both lads.
"Made the Huns line up on deck and sing the 'Hymn of Hate'. You can
imagine the surprise of the trawler's men, who, judging by the
treatment meted out to our fishermen by the German submarines, expected
nothing less than imprisonment and the loss of their boat. But it's
close on one bell," remarked Fox at length. "You're messing with the
skipper to-day, I believe. He's quite a decent sort when you know him
properly, but it takes a bit of doing."
A seaman strode up to the bell and gave it a sharp stroke. Just then a
messenger hurried from the diminutive "wireless" room abaft the
chart-house and, leaping down the ladder at a single bound, knocked at
the door of the Captain's cabin.
"Stow those things away, Sparkes," exclaimed Captain Syllenger. "Lunch
will have to wait."
He dashed out of his cabin. On the way to the bridge he passed Fox and
the two midshipmen.
"You'll have to tighten your belts, my lads," he announced. "We've
just had a message through. A strafed unterseeboot has been spotted
trying to get into Spithead. If we don't nab her within half an hour,
I'll eat my hat!"