THE BEGINNING OF SUCCESS
We turn now to the northern mists of the Orkneys, where the comings
and goings of the Grand Fleet were wrapped in mystery from the eyes
of the world. In order to keep the fleet in stores—coal, oil, gear,
and hundreds of other requisite items—small colliers and tramp
steamers brought their cargoes northward to Scapa Flow. In order to
avoid the North Sea submarines, these coal and store ships used the
west-coast passage as much as possible. Now, for that reason, and also
because German submarines were already proceeding in earnest, via the
north-west of Scotland, to the south-west Irish coast, ever since the
successful sinking of the _Lusitania_, it was sound strategy on our
part to send a collier to operate off the north-western Scottish coast.
That is to say, these looked the kinds of ships a suspecting U-boat
officer would expect to meet in that particular locality.
Under the direction of Admiral Sir Stanley Colville, a handful of
these little ships was, during the summer of 1915, being fitted out
for decoy work. One of these was the collier S.S. _Prince Charles_, a
little vessel of only 373 tons. In peace-time she was commanded by her
master, Mr. F. N. Maxwell, and manned by five deckhands, two engineers,
and two firemen. These men all volunteered for what was known to be
a hazardous job, and were accepted. In command was placed Lieutenant
Mark Wardlaw, R.N., and with him went Lieutenant J. G. Spencer, R.N.R.,
and nine active-service ratings to man the guns and use the rifles.
She carried the weakest of armament—only a 3-pounder and a 6-pounder,
with rifles forward and aft. Having completed her fitting out with
great secrecy, the _Prince Charles_ left Longhope in the evening of
July 21 with orders to cruise on routes where submarines had recently
been seen. Proceeding to the westward at her slow gait, she saw very
few vessels until July 24. It was just 6.20 p.m. when, about ten miles
W.N.W. of North Rona Island, she sighted a three-masted vessel with one
funnel, apparently stopped. A quarter of an hour later she observed a
submarine lying close to the steamer. Here was the steel fish _Prince
Charles_ was hoping to bait.
Pretending not to see the submarine, and keeping on her course like a
real collier, Lieutenant Wardlaw’s ship jogged quietly along, but he
was closing up his gun’s crews behind their screens and the mercantile
crew were standing by ready to hoist out the ship’s boats when
required. The German now started up his oil-engines and came on at full
speed towards the _Prince Charles_. It had just gone seven o’clock and
the submarine was 3 miles off. The collier had hoisted her colours and
the enemy was about five points on the bow when a German shell came
whizzing across. This fell 1,000 yards over. Lieutenant Wardlaw now
stopped his engines, put his ship head on to the Atlantic swell, blew
three blasts, and then ordered the crew to get the boats out, in order
to simulate the movements of an ordinary merchant ship in the presence
of an attacking submarine.
In the meantime the enemy was approaching rapidly and fired a second
shot, which fell between the funnel and the foremast, but landed 50
yards over. When the range was down to 600 yards the enemy turned her
broadside on to the collier and continued firing; and this was now
the time for the Q-ship’s captain to make the big decision. Should he
maintain his pretence and continue to receive punishment, with the
possibility of losing ship and lives in the hope that the submarine
would come nearer? Or should he reveal his identity and risk everything
on the chance of winning all? This was always the critical moment when
the Q-ship captain held in his judgment the whole fate of the fight, of
the ship, and his men.
Lieutenant Wardlaw, seeing that the enemy could not be enticed to
come any nearer, took the second alternative, and opened fire with
his port guns. The effect of this on the German was remarkable and
instantaneous; for her gun’s crew at once deserted the gun and darted
down into the conning-tower. But whilst they were so doing, one of
_Prince Charles’s_ shells struck the submarine 20 feet abaft the
conning-tower. The enemy then came round and showed her opposite
broadside, having attempted to dive. She now began to rise again as the
collier closed to 300 yards, and frequent hits were being scored by
the British guns. By this time the surprised Germans had had more than
enough, and were observed to be coming out of the conning-tower, whilst
the submarine was settling down by the stern. Still the British fire
continued, and when the submarine’s bows were a long way out of the
water, she took a sudden plunge and disappeared. A large number of men
were then seen swimming about, and the _Prince Charles_ at once made
every effort to pick them up, fifteen officers and men being thus saved
out of thirty-three.
So ended the career of U 36. She had left Heligoland on July 19 for
a cruise of several weeks via the North Sea, and, up till the day of
meeting with _Prince Charles_, had had a most successful time; for she
had sunk eight trawlers and one steamer, and had stopped the Danish
S.S. _Louise_ when the _Prince Charles_ came up. It was not until the
submarine closed the latter that U 36 saw the Englishmen clearing away
some tarpaulins on deck, and the next moment the Germans were under
fire, and the captain gave orders to dive. By this time the submarine
had been hit several times, and as she could not be saved, she was
brought to the surface by blowing out her tanks. The crew then took to
the sea, and the engineer officer opened the valves to sink her, and
was the last to leave. Inside, the submarine was wrecked by _Prince
Charles’s_ shells and three men were killed, the accurate and rapid
fire having immensely impressed the Germans. Thus the first Q-ship
engagement had been everything that could be desired, and in spite
of the submarine being armed with a 14-pounder and carrying seven
torpedoes, the U-boat had been beaten in a fair fight. Lieutenant Mark
Wardlaw received a D.S.O., two of the crew the D.S.M., and the sum of
£1,000 was awarded to be divided among the mercantile crew.
Another of the ships fitted out under similar auspices was the _Vala_,
who commissioned on August 7, 1915. She was of 609 tons, and could
steam at nothing better than 8 knots. In March of the following year
she was transferred from Scapa to Pembroke, and her career was long and
eventful. In April of 1917 she was in action with a submarine, and she
believed that one shell hit the enemy, but the latter then submerged.
One day in the middle of August _Vala_ left Milford Haven to cruise
between the Fastnet and the Scillies, and was last heard of in the
early hours of the following day. She was due to arrive at Queenstown,
but, as she did not return, the Q-ship _Heather_ was ordered to search
for her in the Bay of Biscay. For a whole week there had been a series
of gales, and it was thought that the little steamer had foundered in
the bad weather, but on September 7 the German Government wireless
announced that ‘the U-boat trap, the former English steamer _Vala_,’
had been sunk by a U-boat.
Besides the _Vala_ and _Prince Charles_, three other Q-ships were
fitted out in the north. These were the _Glen Isla_, of 786 tons; the
_Duncombe_, 830 tons; and the _Penshurst_, 740 tons, and they all
performed excellent work. But before we go any further we have to
consider still another novelty in naval warfare, or rather a strange
revival. Who would have thought that the sailing-ship would, in
these days of steam, steel, and motor, come back in the service as a
man-of-war? At first it seems almost ludicrous to send sail-driven
craft to fight against steel, mechanically propelled vessels. But, as
we have seen, this submarine warfare was not so much a matter of force
as of cleverness. It was the enemy’s unimaginative policy which brought
about this reintroduction of sail into our Navy, and this is how it all
happened.
During the summer of 1915 German submarines in the North Sea had either
attacked or destroyed a number of neutral schooners which used to come
across with cargoes of pit-props. One used to see these fine little
ships by the dozen arriving in the Forth, for the neutral was getting
an excellent return for his trading. It annoyed the enemy that this
timber should be able to enter a British port, and so the submarines
endeavoured to terrorize the neutral by burning or sinking the ships
on voyage. It was therefore decided to take up the 179-ton schooner
_Thirza_, which was lying in the Tyne. Her purchase had to be carried
out with great secrecy, lest the enemy should be able to recognize her
at sea. She was an old vessel, having been built as far back as 1865
at Prince Edward Island, but registered at Whitstable. She changed her
name to _Ready_, and began her Q-ship service at the end of August,
1915, when soon after midnight she sailed down the Forth. Armed with
a couple of 12-pounders, having also a motor, carrying a small deck
cargo of pit-props, and suitably disguised to resemble a neutral, this
schooner, manned by a hardy volunteer crew, used to pretend she was
coming across the North Sea, though at first she never went many miles
away from the land. Under the various aliases of _Thirza_, _Ready_,
_Probus_, _Elixir_, and Q 30, this old ship did splendid work, which
did not end until Armistice. We shall have occasion to refer to her
again.
Who can avoid a feeling of intense admiration for the men who, year
after year, were willing and eager to roll about the sea in a small
sailing ship looking for the enemy, well knowing that the enemy had
all the advantage of speed, handiness, and armament? Even the motor
was not powerful, and would give her not much more than steerage way
in a calm. The submarine could always creep up submerged, using his
periscope but now and then: the schooner, however, was a conspicuous
target all the time, and her masts and sails advertised her presence
from the horizon. These Q-ship sailing men deserve much for what
they voluntarily endured. Quite apart from the bad weather, the
uncomfortable quarters on board, the constant trimming of sheets
and alteration of course off an unlit coast, there was always the
possibility that some U-boat’s crew would, after sinking the schooner,
cut the throats of these British seamen. The Q-ship crews knew this,
and on certain occasions when U-boat prisoners were taken by our ships
the Germans did not conceal this fact. Life in these sailing craft
was something quite different from that in a battleship with its
wardroom, its cheery society, and a comfortable cabin to turn into.
In the latter, with powerful turbines and all the latest navigational
instruments, bad weather meant little inconvenience. After all it
is the human element which is the deciding factor, and the Q-ship
service certainly wore out officers and men at a great pace. It is
indeed difficult to imagine any kind of seafaring more exacting both
physically and nervously.
But the Navy pressed into its use also sailing smacks, and sent
them out to sea. This began at Lowestoft in August, 1915. In that
neighbourhood submarines had been doing a great deal of damage to the
local fishing ketches, so it was decided to commission four of these
smacks, arm them, strengthen their fishing crew with a few active
service ratings for working the gun, and let the craft resume their
fishing among the other smacks. With any luck at all a German submarine
should come along, and then would follow the surprise. The original
fishermen crews were only too delighted to have an opportunity of
getting their own back, and these excellent fellows certainly were
afforded some good sport. So well did the idea work that within a
very few days the smack _G. and E._ engaged one submarine, and the
_Inverlyon_ sank UB 4. During the same month the smack _Pet_ fought a
submarine, and on September 7 _Inverlyon_ had a fight with another.
And still the Admiralty were not over optimistic as to the capabilities
of the decoy ship, and had to be convinced of the real worth of this
novel idea. However, an incident happened on August 19 which was so
successful and so significant that it entirely changed the official
mind, and all kinds of craft were suggested as suitable decoys. Some
thought that oil-tankers would have made ideal bait: so they would,
but such ships were few in number and too valuable. Others suggested
yachts, and actually these were used for intelligence work in the Bay
of Biscay. Many other schemes, too, were brought forward, but they were
not always practicable, or had to be discarded for particular reasons.
[Illustration:
FIG. 1.—DIAGRAM TO ILLUSTRATE APPROXIMATE MOVEMENTS OF ‘BARALONG’
WHEN SHE SANK U 27 ON AUGUST 19, 1915. THE NUMERALS INDICATE
SIMULTANEOUS POSITIONS OF DECOY AND SUBMARINE.]
[Illustration: Q-SHIP “BARALONG”
Heroine of two famous victories over submarines. Photograph taken in
Malta harbour after the ship had been transferred to the Mediterranean.]
[Illustration: Q-SHIP “REDBREAST”
This vessel was commissioned as a Q-ship at the end of March, 1916, but
six months later had concluded her service in this capacity.
To face p. 22]
In March, 1915, the Admiralty had taken up the S.S. _Baralong_, a
typical ‘three-island’ tramp, as a decoy. For nearly six months she had
been cruising about and had already steamed 12,000 miles, but during
the afternoon of August 19 she was at last to have her chance. This was
an historic day in the submarine campaign, for in that area between the
south-west coast of Ireland and the western end of the English Channel
eight British steamers were sunk, including the 15,801-ton White Star
liner _Arabic_. It is quite certain that there was more than one
submarine operating, and they had reaped a good harvest on the 17th. In
the hope of falling in with one of these U-boats, the _Baralong_ found
herself in Lat. 50.22 N., Long. 8.7 W. (that is, about a hundred miles
south of Queenstown), steering on an easterly course. She was disguised
as a United States cargo ship with American colours painted on boards
on her sides. These boards were made so that they could be hauled in,
and the ensign staff would fall away as soon as the ship should go
into action with the White Ensign hoisted. At three in the afternoon
_Baralong_ sighted a steamer manœuvring rather strangely, and almost
immediately picked up a wireless ‘S.O.S.’ signal from her. _Baralong_
therefore now altered course towards her, and the two ships were soon
steering so that they would presently meet. Then a submarine was
sighted about seven miles off heading towards the steamer, whom she was
shelling. By this time the crew of the steamer, which was the Leyland
liner _Nicosian_, were rowing about in the ship’s boats, and towards
these the _Baralong_ was seen to be approaching, but the submarine U
27, which had a 22-pounder forward of the high conning-tower, and a
similar gun aft, steered so as to come along _Nicosian’s_ port side and
towards the latter’s boats, apparently to prevent _Baralong_ rescuing
the men. One who was present told me the full story, and I made notes
and a sketch at the time. This is what happened:
As soon as the submarine was blanketed by _Nicosian_, the _Baralong_,
who was now roughly parallel with the other two craft, struck her
American colours, hoisted the White Ensign, and trained her guns
ready for the moment when the submarine should show herself ahead
of _Nicosian’s_ bows. In a few seconds U 27 came along, and had the
greatest of all surprises. The range was only 600 yards, and 12-pounder
shells, accompanied by rifle fire, came hurtling along, penetrating
the craft on the waterline below the conning-tower before the enemy
could reply. The conning-tower went up in the air, panic-stricken
Germans jumped into the sea, the submarine heeled over, and in about
another minute sank for good and all. The whole incident had happened
so quickly that _Nicosian’s_ people were as surprised as they were
amused. The whole of _Baralong’s_ tactics had been so simple yet so
clever and effective; deliverance from the enemy had followed the
sudden attack so dramatically, that it was not easy to realize quite
all that had happened. _Nicosian_ had been holed by the German shells,
but _Baralong_ took her in tow and headed for Avonmouth. She was down
by the head and the tow-rope parted during the night, but she managed
to get to port all right.
The sinking of this U 27 was a most useful piece of work, for her
captain, Lieut.-Commander Wegener, was one of Germany’s best submarine
commanders; she had left Germany a fortnight before. This incident,
with many of its details, reached Germany via the U.S.A.; for
_Nicosian_ was carrying a cargo of mules from across the Atlantic to
be used by our army, and some of the muleteers were American citizens.
On their arrival back home the news came out, and was published in
the newspapers, causing considerable sensation. The German nation was
furious and made some bitter accusations, forgetting all the time that
on this very day they had fired on and killed fourteen of the crew of
the British submarine E 13, which had grounded on the Danish island of
Saltholm. All the officers, with one exception, and most of the crew of
_Baralong_ were of the Royal Naval Reserve. A number of decorations was
made and the sum of £1,000 was awarded.
This great success in the midst of a terrible tale of shipping losses
finally convinced the authorities of the value of the Q-ship. There
was a great shortage of tonnage at this time, for ships were being
required for carrying mules and munitions from America, munitions to
Russia, and every kind of stores across to our armies. However, it was
decided to take up some more steamers as decoys and fit them out in a
similar manner. Thus the two tramp steamers _Zylpha_ (2,917 tons) and
the _Lodorer_ (3,207 tons) were assigned to Queenstown. The former,
after doing excellent work, was sunk on June 15, 1917; the latter,
commanded by the officer who eventually became Captain Gordon Campbell,
V.C., D.S.O., made history. Under the aliases of _Farnborough_ and Q 5
she became the most famous of all the decoy ships. Tramp steamer though
she may be, she has a career which, for adventurous fights, honourable
wounds, and imperishable glory cannot be approached by any ship in the
world, with the solitary exception, perhaps, of the _Vindictive_, for,
in spite of everything, _Lodorer_ was able at the end of the war to
resume her work in the Merchant Service. In another place we shall soon
see her exploits as a warship.
In addition to these two a few small coasting steamers were taken up
and a couple of transports, and the work of selecting officers of dash
and enterprise had to be undertaken with great secrecy and discretion.
Unquestionably the most suitable type of Q-ship was the tramp, and the
worst was the cross-Channel railway steamer. The first was slow, but
could keep at sea a long time without coaling; the latter was fast,
but wasteful of coal and had limited bunker space. Of these railway
steamers we have already mentioned the G.E.R. Co.’s S.S. _Vienna_
(alias _Antwerp_). Another decoy ship was the L.& S.W.R. Co.’s S.S.
_Princess Ena_, which was built to run between the Channel Islands and
Southampton. She had been commissioned in May, 1915, armed with three
12-pounders, and could steam at 15 knots, but she ceased her decoy work
in the following August. The _Lyons_, already referred to, was really a
salvage steamer, but much resembled a tug, especially when she hoisted
her dummy funnel. She was of 537 tons, could steam at 11 knots, and was
armed with four 12-pounders. But it was the ‘three-island’ tramp type
of the _Baralong_ breed, which was so ordinary and seen at any time in
any sea, that made the ideal Q-ship. She was of 4,192 tons, built in
1901, speed 10 knots, armed with three 12-pounders, and fitted with a
single wireless aerial which could excite no suspicion. So skilfully
was the armament of these ships concealed that they frequently lay in
harbour close to foreign ships without revealing their true nature. I
have myself been all over such a ship, commanded by one of the greatest
Q-ship officers, and entirely failed to find where he mounted his
guns, and yet they were on board ready for immediate use. How much
more likely would the German submarine, lying lower down to the water,
be deceived! As time went on and these much-feared ‘trap-ships’ were
scrutinized more closely, several minor but fatal characteristics
had to be remembered; for instance, the crew sometimes would be too
smart or the signal-man was too good with his semaphore. But these and
similar points were rectified as soon as they were realized.