OF MY FIRST EXPERIENCES AS A SUB.
Where the East wind is brewed fresh and fresh every morning
And the balmy night-breezes blow straight from the Pole,
I heard a destroyer sing: "What an enjoyable
life does one lead on the 'Channel' Patrol.
. . . . . .
"We warn from disaster the mercantile master
Who takes in high dudgeon our life-saving rôle,
For every one's grousing at docking and dowsing
The marks and the lights on the 'Channel' Patrol."
. . . . . .
So swept but surviving, half drowned but still driving,
Watched her head out through the swell off the shoal,
And I heard her propellers roar: "Write to poor fellers
Who run such a hell as the 'Channel' Patrol!"
KIPLING
The course in the _Vernon_ lasted for one week, and when it was
finished we were free to go on leave till we received our new
appointments.
After about seven days' leave I was appointed as second in command of
H.M.S. _P——_, based at Portsmouth, and arriving in that town on the
evening of October 1, in accordance with instructions I reported myself
at the R.N. barracks.
It appeared that nothing was known there as to the movements of ships,
and I was referred to the Commodore's office. There I could glean
little more information, but was advised to go down to Boat House
Jetty, where _P——_ was always berthed when in harbour. However, at the
moment she was not there, so I returned to the Commodore's office to
ask where I could be billeted for the night. They told me I could get a
bed at the Navigation School, and that the first thing in the morning
I should go down to Captain "D.'s" office, as all patrol-boats and
destroyers being under his direct orders, his secretary would be able
to give me definite information as to when my ship was expected in.
Accordingly at 9 A.M. next morning I made my way to the said office and
reported. The A.P.R.N.R., who was Captain "D.'s" secretary, informed
me that _P——_ was out, but would probably be in that afternoon, and
advised me to return about 4 P.M. This I did—but found I had missed her
again, for though she had come in at three o'clock she had only stayed
for half an hour.
That evening I got a note from the Sub. of another boat saying that if
I would come aboard his ship at 11 A.M. next morning I should there
meet the First Lieutenant of _P——_, whom I was relieving. I wondered
what on earth he could be doing on another boat when his own was, I
knew, at sea, but on meeting him I learned that she had unexpectedly
received immediate sailing orders while he was on short leave ashore
and had to leave without him. Having thus missed her (at Devonport), he
had hurried round by train to Portsmouth—only to miss her again!
I lunched on board with the two Subs., and afterwards went with M—— to
the pay office in barracks to draw a month's pay which was due to the
ship's company of _P——_. When we returned, we found that she had come
in, and was lying at a buoy in mid-stream. We made a signal for a boat,
and shortly afterwards a skiff arrived, with my new Skipper, Lieutenant
——, R.N.R., in the stern-sheets. After I had been introduced to him by
the Sub. I was relieving, he went off to Captain "D.'s" office to get
sailing orders and confidential papers, and M—— and I embarked in the
skiff and proceeded to _P——_.
I had left my gear on the "beach," intending to fetch it later, but
very soon the Captain returned with immediate sailing orders, and I had
to go off without it.
M—— and I kept the first watch on that night, which looked like being
quite a dirty one.
The bridge was by no means water-tight, and the spray that poured
through every crack and cranny penetrated also up our sleeves and down
our necks, so that we were soon soaked to the skin. The ship rolled so
violently that presently the topmast snapped off short and came down
with a crash on the chart-house, waking up the Captain, who had been
trying to get some sleep. He at once came out on to the bridge and
took charge, while he ordered us to go and see that the watch secured
the mast as well as possible and refixed the wireless. This was no
easy job in half a gale, and with the boat rolling and pitching to
every point of the compass, but in the end it was accomplished fairly
satisfactorily—although, with the broken mast sticking out at an acute
angle, the ship must have presented rather a drunken appearance. Then
we returned to our post on the bridge, and the Skipper was able to
resume his interrupted slumbers.
All went well until midnight, when we were relieved by the Gunner, and
went aft to try and snatch some sleep before 4 A.M. when we should
again be required to go on watch. Getting aft was a matter of some
difficulty, as waves were sweeping green over the deck, and we had to
cling tightly to the life-lines to avoid being washed overboard, and
by the time we reached the wardroom hatch we hadn't a dry stitch on
us. Even when we got below we had to hang on for dear life to prevent
ourselves from being thrown violently from one bulkhead to the other.
I did not get a wink of sleep that night, for my whole attention was
concentrated on the frantic effort to remain in my bunk. Boots and
other articles slithered back and forth on the deck in a slimy ooze of
oil fuel and sea water, and more than once I had to jump out and rescue
my clothes from the mess. Pandemonium was loose! At one moment the bath
broke away from the three hooks by which it was suspended from the deck
above, and landed with a crash in the narrow space between the chest of
drawers and the bunk.
Altogether it was with positive relief that I greeted the burly
dripping figure in oilskins and sea boots who came to call me for the
morning watch; and shoving on as many clothes as I could over the
pyjamas I had borrowed from the Sub., I once more made my way on to the
bridge.
About an hour later the dawn broke grey and dismal, and I could
just distinguish the faint line of the French coast.... Our mission
accomplished, we set our helm hard aport and proceeded to batter our
way back to Portsmouth with wind and sea full in our faces.
At 8.30 A.M. the Gunner again relieved us, and we went down to the
wardroom in search of breakfast. Here, amid a mad medley of cutlery,
crockery, and cruets, we found a nasty-looking piece of cold bacon
skidding giddily over the table in company with a loathly-looking loaf
of bread. Presently the steward appeared juggling with two brimming
cups of tea, and strenuously endeavouring to keep his balance on the
swaying deck. With pardonable triumph at having brought them from the
pantry without upsetting them, he placed the cups on the table, where
they added to the general confusion by promptly slopping their contents
over everything.
In order to avoid being shot off our chairs we had to hang on with one
hand while we tried to feed ourselves with the other. I had quite an
exciting time trying to spear pieces of bacon with a fork, my plate
always sliding away to the other side of the table at the crucial
moment! In the end I became quite an expert at the job, and managed to
consume really a considerable amount. (_N.B._ Try our new parlour-game:
"Pig-Sticking" on a destroyer in mid-Channel!) Fortunately for me, I
am what is known as a "good sailor," and have never yet experienced
the miseries of seasickness. What service in small craft must mean for
those with less tractable tummies I shudder to think.
We sighted the Isle of Wight about 3 P.M. and were congratulating
ourselves on the fact that within an hour and a half we should be
safely berthed in Portsmouth, and with any luck would get a night in,
as the ship had been running exceptionally hard for a week past.... But
our congratulations were premature, for when we drew near our objective
we received a signal ordering us to anchor as convenient and await the
arrival of another "P." boat which was bringing us our sailing orders.
This meant that yet another night's work was before us. So, having
anchored in accordance with instructions, we promptly turned in to try
and get some sleep before we had to again proceed to sea.
Our sailing orders arrived about two hours later, and their purport
proved particularly annoying for both M—— and me, for it meant that he
would be detained on the ship for another thirty-six hours or so, and
for the like period I should still be without my clothes, etc. It will
be remembered that I had had to come away without my gear, which was
still at Portsmouth. However, we had to make the best of it.
We got under way at about 8 P.M., did our job, and after an uneventful
trip returned to our base, and finally secured alongside Boat House
Jetty at 10 A.M. on a Sunday morning.
The other Sub. went off immediately to take up his new appointment,
and I very thankfully collected my belongings.
It was about 3.30 on that afternoon when we learned that we were
required to take the place of a T.B. which had unexpectedly been
forced to dock, and in company with another patrol-boat execute
certain orders. The T.B. we were replacing was down to remain at the
destination whither we were bound over Monday, but as we were due to
commence our periodical boiler-cleaning that morning, our Captain made
a signal to Captain "D." asking if we were to remain at the place in
question in accordance with these sailing orders, or to return to
Portsmouth as per schedule. His reply was that we were to return.
We left harbour at 4 P.M., and in a howling gale dropped anchor at the
spot indicated in our instructions. Very soon we found that one anchor
would not hold—we had already dragged about half a mile—and I had to go
up on to the fo'c'sle and superintend the letting go of another....
At 8 P.M. we weighed both and proceeded to execute the duty required of
us. I had the first watch: there was a very heavy sea running, and the
wind being on our starboard quarter, I had to take great care that the
ship did not get into the trough of the waves, in which case she would
not have answered to her helm.
About 11.30 course was altered, bringing wind and sea dead on our beam,
and the ship's head had to be continually brought up to meet the waves.
However, nothing untoward occurred, and at midnight I was relieved by
the Gunner. As on the previous night, the violent motion effectually
prevented me from sleeping, and at 4 A.M. I had to go on watch again.
Then I found that we were already on our homeward course.
The ship was steering very badly, and in order to keep her on her
course the port engine had to be kept dead slow, which greatly reduced
our speed. When I had been on the bridge for about half an hour the
steering-gear broke down altogether, which involved conning by engines
alone. With starboard going full ahead, and port slow astern, she
would hardly swing through a degree. I sent for an E.R.A. (engine-room
artificer) to endeavour to repair the steering-gear, and, through the
voice-pipe, informed the Captain, who was sleeping in the chart-house,
of the state of affairs. Owing to the violence of the storm we were
making considerable leeway, and being unable to keep within 20° of our
course, were carried some distance to eastward.
At dawn, the steering-gear having been repaired, we were able to again
make headway in the right direction, and the Captain now tried to work
out our position by dead reckoning. This was a very difficult job, as
there was no possible means of ascertaining how far we had drifted from
our course. However, he proved himself a highly skilled navigator,
for, although the land was completely obscured by heavy rain squalls,
at 11 A.M. we exactly hit off the buoy which marks the entrance to the
Channel.
Owing to the fury of wind and waves we had sustained considerable
damage. The stout iron stanchions supporting the engine-room hatch
were bent; the port foremost Berthon boat had broken adrift from its
securing chains; several ventilators had been unshipped, and every
one of our fenders had been swept overboard. But by 1.30 P.M. we were
safely secured alongside Boat House Jetty, and one watch proceeded on
leave.
I had to remain in charge on board, but dined with the Gunner of _P——_,
which was lying alongside. He was an old friend, as he had been in
charge of the cadets at Dartmouth during the one term I spent there.
A week later, the boiler-cleaning being finished and the damage
aforementioned having been made good, we were once more ready for sea,
and in due course received sailing orders....
We arrived at our first destination at about 3 P.M. T.B. —— made fast
astern of us, and after I had seen her secured I turned in until
7.30, when we once more got under way and proceeded into harbour. Here
we made fast alongside the ——, which was nice and handy for getting
ashore. I was not greatly impressed with —— as a town, but it afforded
an opportunity for some much-needed exercise.
At 5.30, in company with another "P." boat we steamed out of harbour to
find a stiff breeze blowing, and the tide setting strongly against the
wind. This created a nasty chop on the water, but, as the ship we had
to shepherd carried no signalman, in order to facilitate communication
with her in reference to course to be steered, etc., we decided to
secure alongside her until 8 P.M., when she was due to get under way.
When we had made fast, _P——_ secured alongside us, thus bringing the
full strain of two boats on our hawsers. I heard our wire beginning to
strand, so gave the order to ease away and take the strain on the grass
line, but that had no sooner tautened than it parted. Directing the men
to pay out the wire as slowly as possible, I dispatched a messenger
aft to the Captain to inform him that we should not be able to hold
on much longer. Before he had time to give orders to let go aft and
get way on, the wire was all paid out and we had to let the end go
overboard, as, had it parted, it would naturally have flown back, and
probably caused serious injury to those on the fo'c'sle. The remaining
securing lines had then to be let go, and thus we were left, drifting
about the roads with no way on, and still secured to and bumping
_P——_. After considerable trouble we managed to get free and dropped
our anchor. By this time it was 7.30, so we had only half an hour for
dinner, after which we weighed anchor again.
I had the first watch, during which no incident occurred, and I turned
in at midnight. When I returned to the bridge at 4 A.M. I found that
the night was now calm and clear, but it was very dark and there was no
moon. I took over from the Gunner, who went below to turn in. All went
well for about twenty minutes. Then—suddenly—about one point on our
starboard bow, I saw all steaming lights of another vessel switched on!
Now, by rule of the road at sea, as the stranger was on our starboard
hand, we were bound to give way to her and pass under her stern, so I
gave the order, "Hard aport." Unfortunately she was so very close that
there was no time to get full helm on, and seeing that a collision was
inevitable I gave the order, "Stop both," and dashing to the starboard
telegraph myself put it to "Stop." Before I had even let go of the
handle there came a mighty crash ... the ship quivered from stem to
stern and stopped dead.
The Captain was beside me in an instant. "What are we doing?" he
demanded ... meaning what orders had I issued. I replied, "All stopped,
sir."
Then we looked over the canvas screen and saw that the other boat had
her bows locked into our fo'c'sle, and had heeled over to an acute
angle as she struck. For the moment we thought she must sink—but,
hailing her, the Captain requested her Commander to keep her bows
locked in until we had ascertained the extent of the damage. It would
appear, however, that he did not hear the hail, for he promptly went
astern and backed out.
As the water rushed in through the rent in our side we began to go down
by the bows, and for an anxious moment we thought we were done for ...
but by good luck we still floated.
Leaving me to superintend the getting out of the collision-mat, my
Skipper signalled to the ship that had rammed us—which, by the way, was
another "P." boat—asking if we could give her any help. She replied in
the negative, saying that so far as she could ascertain she was not
damaged, and was returning to her base.
After I had reported to the Captain that the collision-mat was in
place, he ordered me to go below and superintend the shoring up of
the bulkheads. The stokers off watch, and the watch below, under the
directions of the Engineer, had already collected all spare balks of
timber, mess stools, etc., for this purpose. The hatch leading to the
coxswain's storeroom had been opened up and it was discovered that we
were making no water abaft the compartment in which we had been holed.
When I had seen the bulkheads shored up to my satisfaction, I reported
to the Captain on the bridge. Every possible precaution for insuring
the safety of the ship having now been taken, he decided that it would
be best to get under way immediately, and endeavour to get back to
Portsmouth without further delay, in case it came on to blow and the
sea got up. At the moment, fortunately for us, it was quite calm. Not
feeling certain that the bulkheads would withstand the strain of going
ahead, and not knowing the extent of the damage the ship had sustained
below the water-line, the Captain decided to proceed stern first until
daylight enabled us to make a more thorough examination.
We had been struck a bare six feet forward of the stoker's mess deck,
the foremost living-space in this class of ship, in view of which fact
we were uncommonly lucky in that no lives were lost, nor had any of the
crew been injured.
We were obliged to proceed dead slow as, owing to her overhanging
counter, the slightest sea jarred the ship horribly, and stern first
at this speed she steered very badly. It was only with the greatest
difficulty that I was able to keep her within five degrees of the
course without having to supplement the helm by continually altering
the revolutions of the engines.
When daylight came, I went with the Captain on to the fo'c'sle, and
then we discovered that the collision-mat was quite inadequate—in fact
it had already carried away and was towing aimlessly alongside. I
ventured to suggest to the Skipper that it might be a good plan to fill
up the hole with fenders, to which he agreed, and leaving me to summon
the watch and get the job duly executed, he returned to the bridge to
give the necessary orders for bringing the ship round, as he considered
that it was now safe to proceed in the orthodox manner—bows first.
Having seen the work on the fo'c'sle accomplished, I once more resumed
my morning watch, and after the Captain had given orders for a stoker
to be posted on the mess deck, with instructions to give immediate
warning in the event of the bulkhead showing any signs of giving, he
retired below.
About 7.30, as everything seemed to be holding well, I ventured to
increase speed to 10 knots. At 8 I was relieved by the Gunner and
went down to breakfast; after which, at the request of the Captain, I
made out a rough report of the orders I had given in respect of helm
and engines in the moments immediately preceding the collision. This,
after revision, would be embodied in the statement he would have to
forward to Captain "D." as soon as we reached harbour. We had already
dispatched a wireless message to the effect that we had been in
collision and were returning to our base.
Finally, at about 3 P.M. we entered harbour and secured at our usual
berth.
I was in a bit of a funk that I should have to appear before a court
of inquiry. However, it must be assumed that on the report sent in by
my Skipper and the Commander of the ship with which we had had the
misfortune to collide, the C.-in-C. was satisfied that everything
possible had been done: that in the circumstances the collision could
not have been avoided, and that no blame attached to the officers on
watch at the time.
Nevertheless, since accidents must be sternly discouraged, the Captains
were admonished, and warned that a still stricter lookout must be
kept in future.... This was very rough on them, as naturally every
precaution is taken to keep as keen a lookout as possible, not only
with a view to avoiding disaster, but also in hope of locating and
perhaps, with luck, strafing a U-boat.
The responsibilities of a Commanding Officer must needs weigh heavily,
for it is obvious that the High Command can take no cognizance of that
occult and fickle factor "luck," and naval discipline in war-time must
be merciless.
Little wonder that the N.O. is inclined to be superstitious, and to
burn incense at the shrine of Joss!
A week later, my ship being in dock, I was able to go home on two
weeks' leave. Oh, most certainly collisions are severely to be
deprecated!... But—the cloud had a silver lining!
_Here the Midshipman's record ends...._
_In common with so many of his contemporaries, it has been given him
to condense into a few short years of extreme youth experience and
adventure enough for a lifetime ... and who shall say what yet lies
behind the veil of mystery and wonder that so mercifully shrouds the
future. Gleaming bright with the gold of our dreams, or darkened by
futile folly of our fears, no man may lift that veil and live.... But
Faith shall make of it a thing of Beauty. Our cause is just._ _We
give it our Best, in the belief that somehow—somewhere—it will be well
with these our Beloved: and so it must needs be well with us._
_What matter to-morrow—there's courage enough for to-day._
"Gay gallant lives so oft at stake,
Danger and you are such old friends
That we have learned to mock it for your sake."
AVE!—ATQUE VALE.
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* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes
Minor punctuation and printer errors repaired.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and upright text surrounded by
italic text with ~tildes~.