TRAWLERS, SMACKS, AND DRIFTERS
Our Destroyer Service is perhaps as efficient, and as dashing, as
anything ever seen in the way of organised human activity. It is long
established, and its very perfection seems almost to stand in the way
of our wonder at its achievement. The performance of our trawlers and
drifters, on the other hand, is the more astonishing because it was
an afterthought, the work of a service called into being--suddenly
created, as it were, out of nothing--to meet the need of a grave
moment which no imagination could well have provided against. When
the moment came, everyone knew what might be expected from our Navy.
It had not occurred to anyone that our fishermen might help to keep
the sea against an outbreak of piracy, not only with courage but with
marked success. Yet this they did; and of all the disappointments which
the War has brought our enemies this must have been one of the most
unexpected and unpleasant.
In reading the accounts which follow, it will be remarked that the
work to which our trawlers and drifters set themselves, with such
admirable readiness and courage, was not only new to them, but was
continually taking new and unforeseen forms, so that they have been
called upon to show quickness and adaptability, as well as the capacity
for training and discipline. The armament and methods of the submarine
of 1915 were different from those of the later and more dangerous
boats of 1917. The trawlers, too, were much less adequately armed and
equipped. Our men had at first to play a game in which there were no
certain rules, and no standard weapons. We can hardly over-praise the
officers of the R.N.R. who, in those critical days, took command of the
special-service trawlers and fought them with the native skill of the
Elizabethan sea-dogs. Nor can we admire too heartily the ready pluck
and patriotism with which the skippers, mates, deck-hands and boys of
our fishing-fleets turned their hands at a moment’s notice from nets to
depth-charges and twelve-pounders, and undertook the daily sweeping of
mines, in seas now doubly treacherous, and a hundred times more deadly.
There is a strange and almost pathetic sound, even in the names of the
little ships themselves--names bearing none of the splendour of history
or the prestige of war, but the humble and intimate memories of wives
and children, or the jesting pride of the homely seaport where they
lived in the time of peace.
The _Ina Williams_ (now His Majesty’s Trawler, _Ina Williams_) was
steaming towards the Irish coast at seven o’clock, one evening in early
summer, when she sighted a large submarine on her port beam, some
two-and-a-half miles away. The enemy had just come to the surface; for
there was no sign of him in that direction a few moments before, and
he had not yet got his masts or ventilators up. The _Ina Williams_
was armed, fortunately, with a 12-pounder gun, and commanded by
Sub-Lieutenant C. Nettleingham, R.N.R., who had already been commended
for good conduct, and after nine months’ hard work was not likely to
lose a fighting chance.
He headed straight for the U-boat. She might, of course, submerge
at any moment, leaving the pursuer helpless. But Mr. Nettleingham
calculated that she would disdain so small an enemy, and remain
upon the surface, relying upon her trained gunners and keeping her
superiority of speed, with her torpedoes in case of extreme necessity.
He was right in the main. The U-boat accepted battle by gunfire; but
a torpedo which missed the starboard quarter of the _Ina Williams_
by only 10 feet must have been fired at least as soon as the trawler
sighted her, and showed that the enemy was not disposed to underrate
even a British fishing-boat. Mr. Nettleingham had saved his ship by
the promptness with which he turned towards the submarine, and he now
opened fire, keeping helm to avoid any further torpedoes.
The fight was a triumph for English gunnery. The _Ina Williams_ had the
good fortune to have fallen in with a wildshot. All his five shells
were misses--some short, some on the trawler’s starboard side. The
gunner of the _Ina Williams_ had probably had no experience of firing
at a moving target, almost level with the water. The U-boat was going
10-12 knots, too, and that was faster than he expected. The result was
that his first three shots failed to get her; they fell astern, but
each one distinctly nearer than the last. The pirate commander did not
like the look of things; he called in his guns’ crews and prepared
to submerge. Too late. The British gunner’s fourth shot caught the
U-boat on the water-line, half-way between conning-tower and stern.
A fifth followed instantly, close abaft the conning-tower itself.
The wounded submarine was probably by this time out of hand, for she
continued to submerge. Just before she disappeared, the sixth shell
struck the conning-tower full at the water-line, and the fight was
over. It had lasted fifteen minutes, and the _Ina Williams_ was still
3,400 yards away when the enemy sank. She steamed straight on to the
position of the U-boat, and found that even after the ten minutes
which it took her to reach the spot, large bubbles of air were still
rising, and the sea was being more and more thickly covered with a
large lake of oil. The depth was fifty fathoms, and out of that depth,
while the _Ina Williams_ steamed round and round her buoy, she had the
satisfaction of seeing the dead brute’s life-blood welling up with
bursts of air-bubbles for nearly an hour, until the sea was thick for
five hundred yards, and tainted for a much further distance. The smell
of the stuff was peculiar, and new to the trawler’s crew; they could
not find the right word to describe it. But they were eager to scent it
again, and as often as possible, for it meant good work, good pay and a
good report.
This was a thoroughly professional bit of service, a single fight at
long range; but it was no smarter than the sharp double action fought
by His Majesty’s Armed Smacks _Boy Alfred_ and _I’ll Try_ against two
German submarines. The British boats were commanded by Skipper Walter
S. Wharton, R.N.R., and Skipper Thomas Crisp, R.N.R., and were out
in the North Sea when they sighted a pair of U-boats coming straight
towards them on the surface. The first of these came within 300 yards
of _Boy Alfred_ and stopped. Then followed an extraordinary piece of
work, only possible to a German pirate. The U-boat signalled with a
flag to _Boy Alfred_ to come nearer, and at the same time opened fire
upon her with a machine-gun or rifles, hitting her in many places,
though by mere chance not a single casualty resulted.
Skipper Wharton’s time had not yet come; he was not for a duel at long
range. He threw out his small boat, and by this submissive behaviour
encouraged the U-boat to come nearer, which she did by submerging and
popping up again within a hundred yards. A man then came out of the
conning-tower and hailed _Boy Alfred_, giving the order to abandon
ship as he intended to torpedo. But 100 yards was a very different
affair from 300. It was, in fact, a range Skipper Wharton thought quite
suitable. He gave the order ‘Open fire’ instead of ‘Abandon ship,’ and
his gunner did not fail him. The first round from the 12-pounder was
just short, and the second just over; but having straddled his target,
the good man put his third shot into the submarine’s hull, just before
the conning-tower, where it burst on contact. The fourth shot was
better still; it pierced the conning-tower and burst inside. The U-boat
sank like a stone, and the usual wide-spreading patch of oil marked her
grave.
In the meantime the second enemy submarine had gone to the east of
_I’ll Try_, who was herself east of _Boy Alfred_. He was a still more
cautious pirate than his companion, and remained submerged for some
time, cruising around _I’ll Try_ with only a periscope showing. Skipper
Crisp, having a motor fitted to his smack, was too handy for the
German, and kept altering course so as to bring the periscope ahead of
him, whenever it was visible. The enemy disappeared entirely no less
than six times, but at last summoned up courage to break surface. The
hesitation was fatal to him--he had given the smack time to make every
preparation. He appeared suddenly at last, only 200 yards off, on _I’ll
Try’s_ starboard bow; but his upper deck and big conning-tower were
no sooner clearly exposed than Skipper Crisp put his helm hard over,
brought the enemy on to his broadside and let fly with his 13-pounder
gun. At this moment a torpedo passed under the smack’s stern, missing
only by ten feet, then coming to the surface, and running along on the
top past _Boy Alfred_. It was the U-boat’s first and last effort. In
the same instant, _I’ll Try’s_ shell--the only one fired--struck the
base of the conning-tower and exploded, blowing pieces of the submarine
into the water on all sides.
The U-boat immediately took a list to starboard and plunged bows
first--she disappeared so rapidly that the gunner had not even time
for a second shot. _I’ll Try_ immediately hurried to the spot, and
there saw large bubbles of air coming up and a large and increasing
patch of oil. She marked the position with a Dan buoy, and stood by for
three-quarters of an hour with _Boy Alfred_. Finally, as the enemy gave
no sign of life, the two smacks returned together to harbour.
For this excellent piece of work the two skippers were suitably
rewarded. Skipper Wharton, who had already killed two U-boats and
had received the D.S.C. and the D.S.M. with a bar, was now given a
second bar to his D.S.C. Skipper Crisp already had the D.S.M., and
now received the D.S.C. But with regard to the gratuity given to the
whole crew of each boat for the destruction of an enemy submarine, a
distinction was made, _Boy Alfred_ being rewarded for a ‘certainty’
and _I’ll Try_ for a ‘probable’ only. This is interesting as showing
the scrupulous caution with which our anti-submarine returns have been
made up. The Germans have tried to persuade their public, at home and
abroad, that many of the U-boats claimed to have been destroyed by us
have, in fact, escaped, with more or less injury, and made their way
home to refit. The exact contrary is the case. No one, with any power
of judging the evidence, could examine our official reports without
coming to the conclusion that the number of our successes has been
greatly underestimated in the published records. The Admiralty have
no doubt felt that, where so much is at stake, it is better to run no
risk at all of misrepresenting the situation and its possibilities. If
certainties only are counted, and the campaign judged and conducted
accordingly, there will be no disillusionment for us, and the long
list of ‘probables’ will give us a margin, uncertain in quantity, but
absolutely sure to be on the right side of the account. This policy has
entirely justified itself. In the long record of the anti-submarine
work of these four years, only one complete disappointment has
occurred, only one dead U-boat has come to life again. On the other
hand, the first list of certainties published by the Admiralty--the
list of 150 pirate commanders put out of action--could not be disputed,
even by the authors of the German _communiqués_. It is not an estimate,
it is a statement, beyond suspicion or dispute; but to ensure this
result restraint was necessary, and the restraint was often regretted
by the authorities as much as by the British crews who felt themselves
stinted of their full reward. There was probably no member of the Board
who did not wish that more could be done for the gallant men of _I’ll
Try_; but her report, as here paraphrased, just fell short of the full
evidence required by the rules. She killed her bird; but she could not
_prove_ that he was not a runner.
[Illustration: ‘_I’ll Try’s_ shell struck the base of the
conning-tower.’]
The same year, in the second week of August, two other smacks
distinguished themselves in action. The first of these was the _G. and
E._, commanded by Lieutenant C. E. Hammond, R.N. She was sailing at
mid-day in company with the smack _Leader_, and about a mile to north
of her, when she saw a submarine break surface about three cables
beyond to the south-east. Lieutenant Hammond must have found it hard
to play a waiting game, but to go at once to the help of his consort
would have revealed that he was no unarmed fishing-boat. The pirate,
therefore, was able to board and blow up _Leader_ with a bomb, after
ordering her crew into their small boat. He then came on fearlessly,
closing, as he thought, another helpless victim. When within 200 yards
he fired a rifle, and _G. and E._’s crew encouraged him by getting out
a boat; but when he came to forty yards and slewed round, parallel
to the smack, Lieutenant Hammond hoisted the White Ensign and opened
fire. The U-boat appeared to be paralysed with astonishment. For a
whole minute she lay motionless, and that minute was just long enough
for _G. and E._’s gunner. He got off five shots in a tremendous hurry.
One was a miss, and two hit the rail of the smack; but one of these
went on, and penetrated the enemy very usefully in the lower part of
the conning-tower. The other two were clean hits in much the same
spot. Down went the enemy--not in the way a submarine would dive by
choice, but nose first, and with stern up at a very high angle. The
five men who had been on her deck and conning-tower, for the purpose
of enjoying a little shooting at British fishermen, got an entirely new
view of sport in these sixty seconds. One was killed with a rifle-shot
by a petty officer on the _G. and E._, three disappeared in the shell
bursts, and the fifth was seen still clinging to the conning-tower, as
the U-boat carried him down to death. The tide made all hope of rescue
vain--it was too strong even for a buoy to be put down to mark the spot.
Four days later, on the same ground, the smack _Inverlyon_, commanded
by Skipper Phillips, with an R. N. gunner, Ernest M. Jehan, sighted a
submarine at 8.20 P.M., steering right towards her in the twilight.
When the two boats were within less than thirty yards of each other,
the submarine was seen to be a U-boat flying the German ensign, with an
officer on deck hailing ‘Boat!’ Evidently he expected to be obeyed, for
he stopped dead and gave no sign of action. He had no gun mounted, and
appeared to be out of torpedoes.
Mr. Jehan might well have been taken by surprise by this sudden meeting
at close quarters in the dusk; but he was not. In an instant the White
Ensign was hoisted, and he himself was firing his revolver at the
officer steering the enemy boat. This was his pre-arranged signal for
his mates to open fire, and it was obeyed with deadly quickness and
precision. The gun was a mere pop-gun, a 3-pounder, but at the range it
was good enough. Of the first three rounds fired, the first and third
pierced the centre of the enemy’s conning-tower and burst inside, while
the second struck the after part of the same structure and carried it
away, ensign and all. The officer fell overboard on the starboard side.
The submarine was now out of hand. The tide brought her close round
_Inverlyon’s_ stern, within ten yards, and the gun was instantly slewed
on to her again. This time, six rounds of extra-rapid fire were got
off. The first hit the conning-tower, the second and fourth went over,
the third, fifth and sixth hulled the U-boat dead. She sank, with the
same ominous nose-dive, her stern standing up at an angle of 80°. The
swirl was violent, and in it three bodies were flung to the surface. A
shout was heard from one of them--a pirate, but a man in agony. Skipper
Phillips stripped, took a lifebuoy in his arms and leaped overboard.
He swam strongly, but vainly, in that rush of wild water and oil, and
at last had to be dragged home on his own buoy. The smack meantime was
drifting over the dead submarine, and brought up when her trawl got
fast upon it.
The trawl was even more useful in another action, where it actually
brought on the fight at close quarters and made victory possible. One
day in February, H.M. Trawler _Rosetta_, Skipper G. A. Novo, R.N.R.,
had gone out to fish, but she had on deck a 6-pounder gun concealed in
an ingenious manner which need not be described. She joined a small
fleet of four smacks and two steam trawlers some forty-five miles
out, and fished with them all night. Before dawn next morning a voice
was heard shouting out of the twilight. It came from one of the steam
trawlers: ‘Cut your gear away! there’s a submarine three-quarters of a
mile away; he’s sunk a smack and I have the crew on board.’
‘All right, thank you!’ said Skipper Novo--to get away from the pirate
was precisely what he did not wish to do. For some fifteen minutes he
went on towing his trawl, in hope of being attacked; but as nothing
happened, he thought he was too far away from the smacks, and began
to haul up his trawl. He was bringing his boat round before the wind,
and had all but the last twenty fathoms of the trawl in, when the
winch suddenly refused to heave any more, and the warp ran out again
about ten fathoms--a thing beyond all experience. ‘Hullo!’ said the
skipper, ‘there’s something funny.’ He jumped off the bridge and asked
the mate what was the reason of the winch running back. ‘I don’t know,
skipper--the stop-valve is opened out full.’ The skipper tried it
himself; then went to the engine-man and asked him if full steam was
on. ‘The steam’s all right.’ ‘Then reverse winch!’ said the skipper,
and went to give a hand himself, as was his custom in a difficulty. The
hauling went on this time, all but to the end.
Suddenly the mate gripped him by the arm--‘Skipper, a submarine on
board us!’--and there the enemy was, a bare hundred yards off on the
starboard quarter. ‘Hard a-starboard, and a tick ahead!’ shouted the
skipper, and rushed for the gun, with the crew following. The gun was
properly in charge of the mate, and he got to it first; but the brief
dialogue which followed robbed him of his glory. ‘Right, skipper!’ he
said, meaning thereby ‘This is my job.’ But in the same breath the
skipper said: ‘All right, Jack. I got him! You run on bridge and keep
him astern.’ The _Rosetta’s_ discipline was good--the mate went like a
man, and the skipper laid the gun.
He was justified by his success. The enemy was very quickly put out
of action, being apparently unable to cope with the whirlwind energy
of Skipper Novo. From the moment of breaking surface less than sixty
seconds had gone by, when the gun of the _Rosetta_ began speaking, and
spoke nothing but hard words directly to the point. The target was 250
feet long, and only 300 feet away. Every shot was a hit. The fourth
caused an explosion, and flames shot up four or five feet above the
submarine. Evidently she could no longer submerge, and she attempted to
make off upon the surface. But Skipper Novo was right in his estimate
of his own chance--he had ‘got him.’ His fifth, sixth, seventh and
eighth shots were all direct hits on the receding target, and at the
eighth the enemy sank outright.
_Rosetta_ then spoke the smack _Noel_, which had been close to her
during the action, and now confirmed all her observations. Skipper
Novo had no doubt that the U-boat had been the obstruction which was
tangled in his net. She had carried it all away, and to get clear had
been obliged to come to the surface without knowing where she might
find herself. As to her fate, there was no reasonable doubt. But
since neither debris nor survivors were seen, the case, with rigid
scrupulosity, was refused a place among the certainties. The enemy are
no better off for that.
The story of two trawlers, _Lark II_ and _Lysander III_, will show how
much difference luck may make in giving or withholding the evidence
necessary to prove a complete success. These two boats were included
in a small division patrolling off the Cornish coast, and hunted two
submarines with apparent success, one in March and one in April, but
obtained the maximum award on the first occasion only. The third ship
of the division was then the drifter _Speculation_, and the division
commander was Chief Skipper Donald McMillan, R.N.R. He was in a certain
position close inshore on March 10, listening with hydrophones for a
U-boat which was known to be on the prowl, when he sighted a steamer
about four miles away in the act of being blown up. He made for her
with all speed, but she sank in four minutes; twenty-one of her crew
of twenty-five were found still floating in one small boat and a raft.
The Chief Skipper ‘interrogated’ the poor men, and found that the ship
was a Spanish steamer, the _Christina_. Then he put them on board
_Speculation_, and ordered her to take them at once into St. Ives,
while _Lark_ and _Lysander_ carried out their hydrophone work as before.
When _Speculation_ had gone about 2½ miles on her way, the Chief
Skipper suddenly heard her fire a shot; and the same moment she changed
course and blew her siren. _Lark_ and _Lysander_ raced to join the
hunt with their utmost speed. They found _Speculation_ cruising round,
with depth-charges ready to drop. She had already dropped two, besides
firing her 3-pounder into the wake of the enemy’s periscope, and had
seen not only oil, but some wreckage, and a large object which rolled
over and disappeared again. The Chief Skipper ordered her to proceed
on her course to St. Ives, and then instructed _Lysander III_ to stand
by and drop her depth-charges on the chance of stirring up the wounded
U-boat. Within five minutes he sighted the wake of a submarine on his
own port bow, only 100 yards distant but going fast. He made a bee line
for the wake, thinking it possible he might ram her, and when just over
the disturbance on the water he dropped his first depth-charge. Then,
as the submarine was still making headway, he closed again and dropped
his second charge right over the wake. The enemy thereupon showed
oil and ceased to make headway; so _Lark_ and _Lysander_ alternately
bombed his supposed resting-place with no less than eight charges.
After nearly an hour of this, they stood by, listening on hydrophones
and watching the oil still rising. Then a destroyer arrived, asked
questions, heard the whole story and steamed away without comment. Two
hours later a motor-launch came by, and was good enough to examine
the spot and contribute one more depth-charge. Two hours more, and
_Speculation_ returned to spend the night with her division--all
listening keenly, but without result. Finally, next morning, two
sweepers, _John Kidd_ and _Castor II_, arrived and swept round about
the buoy which had been put down. The three boats of the division stood
by and watched anxiously; they felt sure that the sweep fouled some
object between 9 and 10 A.M., but at 11.15 they received the order to
resume their patrol and went reluctantly away, foreboding a verdict of
‘probably damaged.’
Twelve days later they had a joyful surprise. It had been decided
that as the depth of water, the season, and other circumstances
were all favourable, it was worth while to send a diver to explore
the spot. Accordingly, on March 25, an officer diver went down and
succeeded in finding and examining the submarine. She was lying on
her port beam-ends in twenty-four fathoms. Her conning-tower had been
practically blown off--evidently by a depth-charge which had made a
direct hit or something very near it. She had also a large fracture in
the hull, on the port side amidships. This was, of course, conclusive,
and the division received the maximum award. They were the more
jubilant, because they had been quite certain of their kill, and had
picked up what they considered first-rate evidence--not debris indeed,
nor survivors, but a lot of onions, which must have been brought there
by somebody. Also they had been told that their ‘obstruction’ was
the wreck of an Italian ship, torpedoed just about there only a few
days before. It was a consolation to have so annoying a suggestion
conclusively disproved.
The next action of _Lark II_ and _Lysander III_ fell short of this
final felicity. In April the division passed under the command of Chief
Skipper G. Birch, R.N.R., and the third place in it was filled by the
drifter _Livelihood_. They were patrolling one evening off Tintagel
Head, when a periscope was sighted by _Lark II_, about 500 yards away
on the starboard quarter, and going N.N.W. at the very slow speed of
two knots. It was noted as being very high, quite three feet out of
the water. The Chief Skipper came round immediately in order to bring
his guns to bear; but the periscope had disappeared before he could
accomplish this. He then hoisted the necessary signals for warning
the rest of the division, steamed towards the last position of the
submarine, lay to, and listened with the hydrophone. But at this moment
the periscope reappeared; it was now only one foot above the surface
and not more than twenty yards away, on the starboard beam. This was,
of course, too near for a torpedo, and _Lark II_ accordingly got her
chance.
The first shot from her 12-pounder was an extraordinarily happy one--it
hit the periscope and scattered it in splinters. The Chief Skipper lost
not a moment--he rang the telegraph for full speed, turned towards the
enemy, and as soon as he got way on the ship dropped a depth-charge
set for fifty feet. His miniature fleet was perfectly in hand, and
seconded him brilliantly. Drifter _Livelihood_ closed on his port
quarter, and dropped her depth-charge almost on the same spot; trawler
_Lysander III_ followed with another. The three boats continued to
play the game in combination; the leader dropping five depth-charges
in all and the others three each. All these exploded satisfactorily,
and one of the Chief Skipper’s produced a second heavy under-water
explosion, after which large quantities of dark oil and air bubbles
rose to the surface. The position was then buoyed, and the division
patrolled the area all night, using hydrophones at intervals. Next
morning a wireless message was sent to Penzance, and another trawler
took the watch as relief. Sweeping operations followed, but the bottom
was reported rocky and foul, and no satisfactory result was obtained.
Diving was not possible in such a place, and in the end the official
verdict was one of ‘Probably seriously damaged.’ For this the reward
was only half of what would have been given for a certainty; and, to
the gallant trawlers and drifters, that was probably the smallest part
of the disappointment. It is trying to end so exciting a chase with a
cry of ‘gone away,’ and especially so when you are positive that the
cry is a mistaken one. The evidence for a kill was very strong--the
enemy’s speed was slow, his periscope was blinded, he was liberally
depth-charged at close quarters--there was a violent double explosion
to be accounted for, and a good uprush of oil and bubbles. But the
line is strictly drawn, and this time the conclusive evidence was
unprocurable.
Among the many cases of fine team-work by these gallant little
fishing-boats two more must be given here--one as an example of the
deadly thoroughness and precision with which our trawler and drifter
divisions can do their hunting, and the other to show how keenly they
will fight against an enemy armed with vastly superior guns.
A division of four drifters--_Young Fred_, _Pilot Me_, _Light_, and
_Look Sharp_--under Lieutenant Thomas Kippins, R.N.R., was patrolling
one afternoon in April, when at 5.25 P.M. Skipper Andrew Walker,
R.N.R., sighted a periscope about 150 feet away on the starboard
quarter of his ship, _Pilot Me_. He immediately altered course to
starboard, and the submarine thereupon submerged entirely. Skipper
Walker passed over the spot where she was last seen and dropped a
depth-charge, altered course rapidly and dropped another, fired a red
rocket to warn the division, dropped a third and fourth depth-charge,
and hoisted the signal asking his commander to come north at full
speed. He then stopped his engines and listened on his hydrophone.
Hearing no sound, he made for _Young Fred_, who had altered course and
was now closing him. When the two boats were only 300 yards apart,
the submarine came to the surface right between them. She rose at an
angle of 45°, bows up, and hung so for about two minutes, during which
_Pilot Me_, _Light_, and _Look Sharp_ all opened fire, and the two
last claim to have hit her. At any rate she went down again, stern
first; but Lieutenant Kippins, who was steaming straight for her in
hope of ramming, was not disposed to take any chances. He took _Young
Fred_ exactly over her, dropped two depth-charges and passed on. The
explosion which followed was a very heavy one; the fountain of water
which rose was mast high and completely hid the drifter flagship from
her companions, who thought for a moment that she ‘had gone.’
The Chief Skipper was far from gone. The spray was hardly off his deck,
and the _Young Fred_ was still rocking, when he turned again and then
again, dropping two more depth-charges, and ordered _Pilot Me_ to put
down a Dan buoy to mark the position. This was done, but it was but
marking a grave. H.M.S. _Express_, who had received a wireless signal
and hurried to the spot, reports that she found the sea covered with
oil, which had extended in a long stream to the northward on the ebb
tide. Thick oil was still rising to the surface, and there were streaks
of dark brown colour, very noticeable, and distinct from oil. Even when
four miles to leeward, whilst approaching, the new comers had been
struck by a very strong smell of petrol, which naturally gave them
hopeful expectations.
The expectations were fulfilled; in fact the evidence brought on board
the _Express_ went almost beyond what was acceptable to a British
ship’s company who had not just been fighting for their lives. The
articles of wreckage which it is possible to mention included a
quantity of brand-new woodwork, with bright brass fittings, a large
portion of a white wooden bunk, bits of furniture and living-spaces, a
shot-hole plug, two black-painted gratings, a mattress and bedcover,
two seamen’s caps, with cap ribbons of the IV and V Untersee Boot
Flotille, and their owners’ names, a vest and two pairs of drawers;
also a red flag, a fit ensign for these lawless savages. For their
destruction, it is hardly necessary to say, the full reward was given.
Lieutenant Thomas Kippins and Skipper Andrew Walker also received the
D.S.C. and two of their men the D.S.M.
This was an execution rather than a fight; but our fishermen can
show their battles too, battles worthy of the sea-dogs who kept the
narrow seas against more worthy enemies. In the Downs, and in the
first twilight of a November morning, three of His Majesty’s armed
drifters--_Present Help_, _Paramount_ and _Majesty_--were beginning
their daily sweep, when Skipper Thomas Lane, R.N.R., of the _Present
Help_, which was spare ship at the moment, sighted an object one mile
distant to the eastward. As day was breaking, she was quickly marked
for a pirate submarine--a huge one, with two big guns mounted on deck,
one a four-inch and one a 22-pounder. Nevertheless _Present Help_,
_Paramount_ and _Majesty_ opened fire at once with their 6-pounders,
not standing off, but closing their enemy, and continuing to close her
under heavy fire until they were hitting her with their own light guns.
Even our history can hardly show a grander line of battle than those
three tiny ships bearing down upon their great antagonist; and if U. 48
did not fall to their fire, it is none the less true that her surrender
was due in the first place to their determined onset.
It was _Paramount_ who took and gave the first knocks. Her
searchlight was shot away, and she in reply succeeded in putting one
of the pirate’s guns out of action. In the meantime--and none too
soon--_Present Help_ had sent up the red rocket; it was seen by two
other armed drifters, _Acceptable_ and _Feasible_, who were less than
two miles off, and by H.M.S. _Gipsy_, who was four miles away. Skipper
Lee, of the _Acceptable_, immediately sang out ‘Action,’ and both boats
blazed away at 3,000 yards’ range, getting in at least one hit on
the enemy’s conning-tower. At the same moment came the sound of the
_Gipsy’s_ 12-pounder as she rushed in at full speed.
The U-boat started with an enormous, and apparently overwhelming,
advantage of gun power. She ought to have been a match, twice over,
for all six of our little ships. But she was on dangerous ground, and
the astounding resolution of the attack drove her off her course. In
ten minutes the drifters had actually pushed her ashore on the Goodwin
Sands--_Paramount_ had closed to thirty yards! Drake himself was
hardly nearer to the galleons. Then came _Gipsy_, equally resolute.
Her first two shots fell short; the third was doubtful, but after that
she got on, and the pirate’s bigger remaining gun was no match for her
12-pounder. After two hits with common pointed shell, she put in eight
out of nine lyddite, smashed the enemy’s last gun and set him on fire
forward. Thereupon the pirate crew surrendered and jumped overboard.
[Illustration: ‘The U-boat started with an enormous advantage of
gun-power.’]
It was now 7.20 and broad daylight. Lieutenant-Commander Frederick
Robinson, of the _Gipsy_, gave the signal to cease fire, and the five
drifters set to work to save their drowning enemies. _Paramount_, who
was nearest, got thirteen, _Feasible_ one, and _Acceptable_ two, of
whom one was badly wounded. The _Gipsy’s_ whaler was got away, and her
crew, under Lieutenant Gilbertson, R.N.R., tried for an hour to make
headway against the sea, but could not go further than half-a-mile,
the tide and weather being heavily against them. They brought back one
dead body, and one prisoner in a very exhausted condition; afterwards
they went off again and collected the prisoners from the other ships.
Then came the procession back to port--a quiet and unobtrusive return,
but as glorious as any that the Goodwins have ever seen. Full rewards
followed, and the due decorations for Skippers Thomas Lane, Edward Kemp
and Richard William Barker. But their greatest honour was already their
own--they had commanded, in victorious action, His Majesty’s Armed
Drifters, _Present Help_, _Paramount_ and _Majesty_.