THE ‘MARY B. MITCHELL’
It was the activities and successes of the submarines in the western
end of the English Channel that had made these small Q-sailing-ships so
desirable. The first of these to be used in that area was the _Mary B.
Mitchell_. She was a three-masted topsail steel schooner owned by Lord
Penrhyn. Built at Carrickfergus in 1892 and registered at Beaumaris,
she was 129 feet in length, and of 210 tons gross. In the middle of
April, 1916, she happened to be lying in Falmouth with a cargo of china
clay, and it was decided to requisition her. The difficulty always was
to preserve secrecy during her fitting out, but in this case, luckily,
she had recently suffered some damage, and this afforded an excellent
excuse for paying off the mercantile crew. A new crew was selected for
her and was trained specially for the work while she was being got
ready for her special service. She was commissioned on May 5, and left
Falmouth for her first cruise on June 26, and then operated for a month
on end in the western approaches between Ushant, the Irish coast, and
Milford.
Her captain was Lieutenant M. Armstrong, R.N.R., and she was known
officially as the _Mitchell_ and Q 9. During her cruising she sailed
also under three different neutral flags, as convenient. Armed with
three guns, her 12-pounder was hidden in a dummy collapsible house on
the poop, and under each of the two hatches was a 6-pounder mounted on
a swinging pedestal. There were also a couple of Lewis guns, some small
arms and Mills hand-grenades. In spite of the thoroughness with which
the guns were concealed, the collapsible arrangements had been made
so ingeniously that all guns could be brought into action under three
seconds. Before leaving Falmouth she was painted black with a yellow
streak and bore the name
MARY Y. JOSE
VIGO
on her hull, so as to look like a neutral. But until she had got clear
of Falmouth this inscription was covered over with a plate bearing her
real name. In order to be able to pick up signals at sea she was fitted
with a small wireless receiving set, the wire being easily disguised in
the rigging. Rolling about in the swell of the Atlantic or the chops
of the English Channel for four weeks at a time is apt to get on the
nerves of a crew unable to have a stretch ashore: so in order to keep
everyone on board fit and cheery, boxing-gloves and gymnastic apparatus
were provided.
[Illustration:
[_Photo, Opie_
Q SAILING-SHIP “MITCHELL”
Notice the after gun disclosed on the poop.
To face p. 68]
No one could deny that she was an efficient ship. During her first
cruise she used to carry out gun-trials at night; hatches sliding
smoothly off, guns swinging splendidly into position, and a broadside
fired as soon as the bell for action sounded. Until that bell was
pressed, none of the crew was allowed to be visible on deck other than
the normal watch. One of the difficulties in these ships was that the
decks might be damaged with the shock of firing, but in the _Mitchell_
they had been so strengthened that not a seam was sprung nor so
much as a glass cracked. You may guess how perfect was her disguise
from the following incident. Pretending she was a Spaniard, she was
one day boarded at sea and examined by some of the Falmouth patrol
trawlers. These were completely deceived, for even though their crews
had watched her fitting out, yet she had painted herself a different
colour the night before leaving that port. Even in the Bay of Biscay
several British transports on sighting the ‘Spaniard’ altered course
and steamed away, evidently suspecting she was co-operating with a
submarine.
She was back from her first cruise on July 25 just before midnight
and left again at midnight on August 3-4. This time she impersonated
the French three-masted schooner _Jeannette_, a vessel of 226 tons,
registered at La Houle, for _Mitchell_ now made a cruise in the
neighbourhood of the Channel Islands and the western channel. During
the next few months she continued to sail about the last-mentioned
area, in the Bristol Channel near Lundy Island, and in the Bay of
Biscay, sometimes as _Jeannette_, sometimes as the _Brine_, of St.
Malo, and sometimes as the Russian _Neptun_, of Riga.
It was in January, 1917, that she had an experience which showed the
fine seamanship and sound judgment which were essential in the captain
of such a secret ship. His name was Lieutenant John Lawrie, R.N.R., a
man of strong personality, a real sailor, and possessed of valuable
initiative. On the evening of January 7, _Mitchell_ was off Berry Head,
just east of Dartmouth, when bad weather came on, and this developed
into a strong winter’s gale. There was every reason why a Q-ship
should not run into the nearest port for shelter, as her presence
would lead to awkward questions, whereas secrecy was the essence
of her existence. The gale blew its fiercest, and by the following
night _Mitchell_ was having an alarming time. Just after 9.30 p.m the
foremast and spars crashed over the side, carrying away her mainmast
too. She then lay-to under close-reefed mizzen. A jurymast was rigged
on the stump of the foremast, and the wind, having veered from W.
through N.W. to N.E., she was able to set a reefed stay-sail. It was
still blowing a strong gale, with what Lieutenant Lawrie described
as a ‘mountainous sea’ running, and she drifted before the gale in a
south-west direction towards Ushant.
In this predicament it was time to get assistance if possible, and
about 9.15 on the morning of the 9th she signalled a large cargo
steamer, who endeavoured to take _Mitchell_ in tow, but eventually had
to signal that this was impossible, and continued steaming on her way
up Channel. The schooner was now about ten miles north of Ushant, an
anxious position for any navigator going to leeward, but Lieutenant
Lawrie considered she would drift clear. The north-east gale showed
no sign of easing up during that evening. Signals of distress were
made, a gun being fired every few minutes as well as rocket distress
signals, and flares were kept burning; but no answering signal came
from the shore. By this time the schooner was getting dangerously
near to Ushant, and it could not be long before she and her crew
would inevitably perish. However, she never struck, and at 9.30 p.m.
the Norwegian S.S. _Sardinia_ spoke her and stood by throughout the
terrible night until 7 a.m. of the 10th. Then ensued a nice piece
of seamanship when the steamer lowered into the sea a buoy with a
small line attached. This _Mitchell_ managed to pick up, and the
tow-line was made fast. _Sardinia_ then went ahead and towed her from
a position 10 miles west (True) of Creach Point until 11.15 a.m. when
near Les Pierres Light. Here a French torpedo-boat came towards them,
so Lieutenant Lawrie hoisted the Red Ensign; but having done that he
was clever enough also to show the White Ensign over the stern and in
such a manner that the Norwegian was unable to see it. The captain of
the French torpedo-boat at once understood, signalled to the Norwegian
to cast off and that the torpedo-boat would take the schooner in tow.
This was done at noon, and the _Sardinia_ was informed that the name of
the ship was the _Mary B. Mitchell_ of Beaumaris, Falmouth to Bristol
Channel with general cargo. It was a clever, ready answer on the part
of the British captain. The torpedo-boat took the schooner into Brest,
and at length, after being remasted and refitted she went back to carry
on her work as a Q-ship. I submit that throughout the whole of that
gale it was a fine achievement, not merely to have brought her through
in safety, but without revealing her identity as a warship.
A different kind of adventure was now awaiting her. During June, 1917,
she cruised about first as the French _Marie Thérèse_, of Cette, then
as the French _Eider_, of St. Malo, her sphere of operation being,
as before, in the western end of the English Channel, the Bay of
Biscay, and near the Channel Islands. _Mitchell_ was now fitted with a
motor, but this was never used during daylight except when absolutely
necessary. It was on the twentieth of that month, at 11.30 a.m., that
she was in a position Lat. 47.13 N., Long. 7.23 W., when she sighted
the conning-tower of a submarine 3 miles away on the port bow. The
German began firing, so _Mitchell_ was run up into the wind, hove-to,
and ‘abandoned.’ By this time the enemy was on the starboard bow and
continued firing for some time after the schooner’s boat had left the
ship. Unsuspectingly the submarine came closer and closer, and more
and more on the beam. Then after a short delay he proceeded parallel
with the ship, and, altering course, made as if to go towards the
_Mitchell’s_ boat lying away on the port quarter. Suddenly he began
to fire again, and being now not more than 800 yards off and in a
suitable position, the schooner also opened fire, the first round from
the 12-pounder appearing to hit. Altogether seventeen rounds were
fired, seven seeming to be direct hits. The enemy did not reply, and
within three minutes of being hit disappeared. Fortunately none of his
score of rounds had struck the schooner, though they burst overhead in
unpleasant proximity.
A further engagement with what was probably the same enemy occurred
later on the same day. It was a favourite tactic for a submarine to
follow a ship after disappearing for a while, and then, having got her
hours later in a suitable position, to attack her again. I used to hear
commanding officers say that they had certainly noticed this in regard
to their own ships, and there are not lacking actual records of these
methods, especially in the case of the slow-moving sailing Q-ships who
could be seen across the sea for a long time; and it was part of these
tactics to carry out this second attack just before night came on. Thus
at 6.10 p.m., being now in Lat. 47.37 N., Long. 6.38 W., _Mitchell_
again sighted a submarine, this time 4 miles away on the port quarter.
The schooner kept her course, the submarine overtook her, and at 6.35
again shelled the ship. After the U-boat had fired half a dozen rapid
rounds, _Mitchell_ was hove-to and ‘abandoned,’ the enemy taking up a
position well out on the port beam and firing until the boat was quite
clear of the ship. Then the German stopped, exactly on the beam, 800
yards away, and waited for a long time before making any move. Suddenly
he turned end on, came full speed towards the ship, dived, and when 400
yards away showed his periscope on the port side. Having got to within
50 yards he went full speed ahead, starboarded his helm, and began to
rise quickly. As soon as the top of the conning-tower appeared and a
couple of feet of hull were showing _Mitchell_ cleared away and shelled
him with the after 6-pounder. This seemed to pierce the conning-tower,
a large blue flash and a volume of yellow vapour coming from the hole.
Almost simultaneously the 12-pounder hit the enemy in the bows, but
after this the enemy was too far forward for the schooner’s guns to
bear. In a cloud of black smoke, yellow smoke, steam, and spray, she
dived and was not seen again until 8.7 p.m. on the surface 5 miles to
the westward, just as the ‘panic party’ were coming back on board the
schooner. All speed was made, and the boat towed astern on an easterly
course for the French coast. For a time the submarine followed, but
then went off to the north-eastward and remained in sight until dark.
The reader may wonder how a submarine, having once been holed, could
remain afloat: but there are cases of undoubted authenticity where,
in spite of being seriously injured, the submarine did get back to
Germany. A remarkable instance of one thus damaged by a Q-sailing-ship
will be given in a later chapter. But in the present case of the
_Mitchell_, even if she had not sunk her submarine, she had fought two
plucky engagements, in the opinion of the Admiralty, and the captain,
Lieutenant John Lawrie, R.N.R., already the possessor of a D.S.C., was
now awarded the D.S.O.—his two officers, Lieutenant John Kerr, R.N.R.,
and Lieutenant T. Hughes, R.N.R., being given each a D.S.C.
On the following August 3, when 20 miles south of the Start, _Mitchell_
had yet another engagement. She had left Falmouth two days before as
the _Arius_, of Riga, then as the French _Cancalais_, of La Houle,
and cruised between the Lizard and the Owers, to Guernsey, and in the
neighbourhood of Ushant. At 1.45 p.m. she was sailing close-hauled on
the starboard tack, steering west; there was a fresh breeze, rather
a rough sea, and a slight haze. Three miles away on the starboard
beam appeared a submarine, who five minutes later began shelling the
schooner. Lawrie let his ship fall off the wind, and the shells came
bursting around, passing through sails and rigging, so after ten
minutes of this the schooner hove-to and ‘abandoned’ ship. Slowly and
cautiously the submarine approached, and when about 3,000 yards off
stopped his engines, but continued to fire. Then he came up on the
decoy’s starboard beam, about 1,000 yards away; but after fifteen
minutes of shelling from this position, Lawrie decided that he could
tempt the enemy no nearer. It was now 4 p.m., so _Mitchell_ started
her motor, cleared away all disguises, put the helm hard aport, and so
brought the enemy well on the beam, allowing all four guns to bear.
Over twenty shells were fired, of which three or four hit the base of
the conning-tower; but the submarine, having replied with four shots,
dived, and made off. For two hours and a quarter had this engagement
been prolonged, and the enemy must have been considerably annoyed to
have wasted seventy of his shells in this manner. There was every
reason to suppose that he had received injuries, and though there were
no fatalities aboard the schooner, yet the latter’s windlass, sails,
rigging, and deck fittings had been damaged, and two of her men had
been wounded. Lieutenant Lawrie received for this gallant fight a bar
to his D.S.C., and a similar award was made to Lieutenant T. Hughes.
Such, briefly, was the kind of life that was spent month after month
in these mystery sailing ships. It was an extraordinary mixture of
monotony and the keenest excitement. From one hour to another no
man knew whether he would be alive or dead, and the one essential
thing consisted in absolute preparedness and mental alertness. To
be surprised by the enemy was almost criminal; to escape narrowly
from shipwreck, to remain unmoved under shell-fire, to see the spars
crashing down and your shipmates laid out in great pain, to be hit and
yet refusing to hit back until the right moment, to keep a clear head
and a watchful eye, and all the time handle your ship so that the most
was got out of the wind—all this was a part of your duty as a Q-ship
man. Officers and men believed that if their Q-ship were torpedoed and
any of them were captured, they would be shot as _francs-tireurs_.
German prisoners had not hesitated to make this statement, although I
do not remember an instance where this was carried out.
There can be no doubt but that these sailing ships had the most
strenuous and arduous task of all. They suffered by being so useful,
for the Q-steamships, as a rule, did not spend more than eight days
at sea out of twelve, and then they had to come in for coal. The
schooners, as we have seen, could keep the sea for a month, so long
as they had sufficient water and provisions. Several more were added
to the list during 1917 and 1918, and there was never any lack of
volunteers for them. The only difficulty was, in these days of steam,
in choosing those who had had experience in sailing craft. The revival
of the sailing man-of-war was certainly one of the many remarkable
features in the naval campaign.