"MEPHISTO" AND THE SUBMARINE.
"GOOD business! Now there's a chance of seeing life!" exclaimed
Lieutenant Aubyn.
"I should have thought you have been seeing plenty of life already,
Terence," remarked his mother, with a faint tinge of reproachfulness,
"and death also," she added.
"Ay, and death," agreed Terence. "Unfortunately, yes; but it's part
of the work. It was the future to which I was referring. Fancy,
mother, a real cruiser at last--not an armed merchantman, nor a
destroyer, although I'll admit I had a real good time in the
'Terrier'--but a modern cruiser."
Terence's appointment had arrived in the form of an Admiralty
telegram, ordering him to join H.M.S. "Sunderland" as soon as
possible.
H.M.S. "Sunderland" was a light cruiser of the "Town" Class, a vessel
of a little over 5000 tons displacement, and armed with eight 6-in.
guns, four 3-pounders, and two submerged 21-in. torpedo tubes. Her
speed was nominally 25 knots, but this rate had been considerably
exceeded when conditions called for her to do her level best.
Accordingly, within four hours of receiving his appointment, Terence
bade his parent farewell and proceeded by rail to Devonport, where
the "Sunderland" was lying. It was nearly dark when he alighted at
Millbay station. Here he called a taxi and was whirled off to the
Dockyard, whence a picquet boat conveyed him to the cruiser, which
was lying at a buoy in the Hamoaze.
"We're off under sealed orders at six o'clock tomorrow morning,"
announced one of his new shipmates, a junior lieutenant, Teddy
Barracombe by name. "Of course, we are quite in the dark, but there's
a strong idea floating around that the ship's off to the Near East.
Just my mark! According to all accounts we'll be pretty busy in the
Dardanelles."
"That's all very fine for you," commented Oswestry, the torpedo
lieutenant, "but where do I come in? We can't use torpedoes against
fortifications, you know, and there's precious little floating about
for us to go for."
"Don't take on, Torps," said Barracombe cheerfully. "You never know
your luck. Wait and see."
"I'd rather t'were the other way about," corrected Torps. "Seeing
your torpedo leave the tube and waiting for the enemy ship to be
blown up. No Dardanelles for me. So I hope to goodness it's the North
Sea. By Jove, I do!"
As soon as the "Sunderland" was clear of the breakwater the momentous
orders were opened. It was not to the Near East; the cruiser had to
proceed to Dover and await further instructions.
All the way up Channel a rigorous watch was maintained, for hostile
submarines had made their presence unpleasantly felt off Prawle
Point, the Bill of Portland, and south of the Royal Sovereign
Lightship. The cruiser pelted under forced draught, steering a
zig-zag course in order to baffle the carefully-planned calculations
of the lurking tigers of the deep, while the guns were manned and
trained abeam ready to be laid upon the first suspicious object
resembling a periscope.
Being the first day of the month the ship's company was to be paid,
and soon after six bells final preparations for the solemn rite were
in progress.
At a quarter to one two "G's"--the officers' call--sounded, and the
first hundred men, mustering by open list, assembled in the Port
Battery. On the quarter-deck tables were placed in position, on each
of which were teak trays divided into small compartments by brass
strips. In each of these divisions a man's monthly pay and allowance
money had already been placed and checked by the paymaster and his
staff.
Owing to the conditions of war-time the captain was not present, his
duty of superintending the payment being taken by the commander. At
the tables stood the staff-paymaster, the R.N.R. assistant-paymaster,
and the chief writer.
The staff-paymaster glanced at the commander, indicating that all was
in readiness. The commander gave the word to carry on, and the
disbursing of coin began.
The assistant-paymaster called the men's names from a book. Each
seaman stepped briskly forward to the chalk line, removed his cap,
and, according to instructions, looked the accountant officer
squarely in the face and gave his name and rating. Then, receiving
his money in the crown of his cap, the recipient saluted and moved
away to make room for the next man.
All was proceeding smoothly and with the regularity of clockwork when
suddenly a diversion occurred.
The ship's company had a mascot in the shape of a young African
monkey, that had been presented to the "Sunderland" by a French
cruiser during a visit to an Algerian port. Although usually
good-tempered "Mephisto" could and did exhibit fits of sulkiness and
outbursts of insubordination that would have earned a lower deck man
ninety days' "confined to detention quarters." But the monkey being a
sort of chartered libertine, was idolized by the ship's company and
mildly tolerated by the officers.
Mephisto was lazily sunning himself under the lee of the quarter-deck
6-in gun shield when his eye caught sight of the chief writer's
silver watch, which that petty officer had occasion to consult.
Probably the monkey imagined that it was one of the tins of condensed
milk for which he had great partiality.
Getting on his four feet Mephisto ambled across the quarter-deck,
past the line of men drawn up at attention. Before he could cross the
chalk line, a symbol for which he had no respect, the chief writer
had replaced his timepiece.
Foiled in that direction the monkey made a grab at a pile of brand
new copper coins, and before any of the officers and men could
prevent, had made a rush for the weather-shrouds.
"Stop him!" yelled the commander.
A dozen men hastened to comply, jolting against each other in their
alacrity to pursue the animal, which with marvellous agility had
gained the extremity of the signal yard-arm.
Here he perched, hanging on with his hind paws while he tasted each
coin with his teeth--at first with an expression of hopefulness upon
his features that rapidly changed into one of profound disgust.
Holding the rest of the coins against his chest Mephisto hurled one
on to the sacred precincts of the quarter-deck. It landed in one of
the compartments of the pay-table, displacing a sovereign, that
rolled between the staff-paymaster and the assistant-paymaster.
Both officers simultaneously stooped to recover the errant piece of
gold. The result was that their heads met with a thud in spite of the
protection afforded by their peaked caps.
Several of the men could not conceal a grin. One broke into a laugh,
and meeting the stern glance of the commander tried to side-track
into a painful cough.
Fortunately for the culprit the commander was inwardly affected by a
similar complaint, for he, too, saw the humour of the business.
"Confound you!" shouted the staff-paymaster, removing his cap and
rubbing his bald head. "Confound you, you brute! Throwing away the
money from the public chest!"
The only reply from Mephisto was another penny that, thrown with
splendid aim, rebounded from the staff-paymaster's shiny pate.
"The ship's company will have to make up the loss," he muttered.
"They're responsible for their confounded pet."
"But you're responsible for the money, Staggles," remarked the
commander drily. "At any rate, Mephisto is paying you back by
instalments."
It wanted all the self-control at their command to keep the lookout
men's attention from the comic scene to a duty of a serious nature,
while the gun's crews temporarily forgot their duties to watch the
encounter between the mascot and the staff-paymaster.
"Catch it--oh, you rotten butterfingers!" groaned the accountant
officer to the assistant-paymaster, who, missing a coin thrown by the
animal, allowed the sum of one penny to be committed to the deep.
"Here, ship's steward, nip below and open a tin of condensed. That
may tempt the brute below."
"You're condoning an offence, Staggles," said the commander in an
undertone, with a humorous gleam in his eye.
Another coin tinkled on the deck. The commander promptly placed his
foot on it to check its career towards the side.
"Where did that go?" asked the staff-paymaster, who, curiously
enough, had a miserly regard for any money except his own, which he
spent liberally.
The commander shifted his foot and pointed to the retrieved coin; as
he did so, another penny, hurtling through the air, hit him smartly
on his bent neck and promptly slithered inside his collar and down
his back.
Unfortunately the commander was a man of a most ticklish temperament.
The contact of the metal disc with his back caused him to writhe like
a lost soul in torment. He had recently unflinchingly faced death in
a hotly-contested engagement in the North Sea, but this rear attack
completely unnerved him. His grotesque efforts to capture the elusive
coin was too much for the rest of the officers and men. They were
unable to conceal their amusement. Finally the commander dived down
below and divested himself of his uniform.
Just then the ship's steward appeared with the tin of condensed milk,
and handed the unopened can to a seaman. Away aloft the man made his
way till he gained the cross-trees. Owing to the "Sunderland"
altering her course she was swinging considerably to starboard, and
the motion made the man advance cautiously, his feet sliding along
the foot-ropes while he held on grimly with his free hand to the
spar.
Mephisto eyed the approaching delicacy with marked approval. Letting
the remaining coins drop, some of which tinkled on deck although most
of them fell overboard, he whisked along the yard-arm, and before the
seaman realized the brute's intention, snatched the can from his
grasp.
A snarl warned the bluejacket that if he advanced it would be at his
peril, and unwilling to risk an encounter with an agile monkey on the
swaying yard, he followed the precept of discretion being the better
part of valour, and regained the deck, leaving the spoils in the
hands of the elated ape.
Presently the monkey had another disappointment. The intact tin
baffled him. He tried his teeth upon it--but unavailingly, so he
began to batter it upon the metal eye of a band encircling the spar.
"There'll be an unholy mess, by Jove!" ejaculated the commander, who
had now reappeared upon the scene, for the tin showed signs of
capitulating to the strenuous frontal attacks on the part of
Mephisto.
"Bring up another tin--and take care to open it this time," ordered
the staff-paymaster recklessly, who had now taken the precaution of
covering the pay-tables with a green baize cloth.
"Bang, bang, bang!" went the tin under the muscular efforts of
Mephisto. Already large drops of the viscous fluid were descending
upon the hallowed quarter-deck, bespattering officers and men
indiscriminately, for owing to the ship's speed a strong current of
air was drifting aft and spraying the stuff far and wide.
"Clear the quarter-deck," ordered the commander. "Up aloft a couple
of hands and collar the brute. By Jove! if it gives much more
trouble, I'll have it shot."
Suddenly, above the scuffling of feet as the men doubled for'ard,
came the shout: "Submarine on the port quarter."
Sharply the bugle sounded "Action," and as the "Sunderland" began to
circle to starboard in answer to a quick movement of her helm, the
quick-firers began to bark at a pole-like object four hundred yards
off.
The unexpected detonation, as a gun was discharged fifty feet under
his nose, completed Mephisto's brief spell of unalloyed liberty.
Temporarily stunned by the terrific concussion the monkey relaxed his
grip and fell.
Just at that moment the staff-paymaster, who was scurrying below with
one of the pay-trays, happened to be passing in the direct line of
Mephisto's descent. The next instant the portly officer was rolling
on the deck in a puddle of condensed milk with the monkey's paws
clutching at his scanty crop of hair, while to complete the
staff-paymaster's discomfiture most of the money he was carrying
rolled overboard.
Regaining his feet Staff-paymaster Staggles contrived to reach the
companion, and with Mephisto still firmly attached to him,
disappeared below.
But the men's attention was now directed towards more serious
matters. An ever-diverging line that rippled the placid water denoted
the approach of a deadly torpedo. Now it was heading as if about to
hit the bows of the "Sunderland," a second later and the arrow-like
ripples seemed to be approaching directly abeam; then, as the cruiser
swung almost on her heel the wake of the formidable missile was
merged into the churning froth astern. It had missed by a bare yard.
From the fire-control platform telephone bells were clanging and men
shouting through the voice-tubes. From their elevated position the
watchers could discern a long, dark shadow that marked the position
of the submarine.
Completely circling the "Sunderland" was steadied on her helm and
steered straight for the spot. In vain the submerged craft attempted
to dive to a depth greater than that of her enemy's draught.
Terence, who was stationed on the after-bridge, felt a faint shock as
the five thousand tons vessel literally cut the luckless submarine in
twain. For a brief instant the lieutenant caught sight of the
after-portion of the "U" boat, as, rendered buoyant by the trapped
air, it drifted past. Then amidst a smother of foam and oil the
wreckage vanished.
"The eleventh to my certain knowledge," remarked the commander, as
coolly as if he were reckoning up the score at an athletic meeting.
"Any damage for'ard, Mr. Black?"
"No, sir; all as tight as a bottle as far as I can see," replied the
carpenter, who immediately after the impact had hurried below to see
if any plates had been "started."
A little later in the afternoon several of the ward-room officers
were enjoying their cups of tea and biscuits, when the
staff-paymaster entered.
"Well, Staggles, what's the shortage?" asked the commander
facetiously.
The accountant officer eyed his tormentor reproachfully, as if that
officer were responsible for his former discomfiture.
"One pound three shillings and threepence--and two tins of condensed
milk," he announced stiffly. "According to paragraph 445 of the
Admiralty Instructions there will have to be two separate reports on
the shortage."
The staff-paymaster spoke seriously. The man was heart and soul in
his work, and his mental horizon was bounded by official forms and
other red-tapeism connected with the accountant branch of H.M.
Service.
"By the by," interposed Oswestry, "Staggles ought to be recommended
for the V.C."
"What's that, Torps?" asked Barracombe. "Our staff-paymaster the
V.C.?"
"What for?" inquired the staff-paymaster innocently.
The commander entrenched himself behind a double number of an
illustrated periodical.
"For bringing Mephisto in out of action," he replied with a chuckle.