MORE SAILING SHIPS
During the ensuing months many demands were made on the sailing-ship
man-of-war. There were pressed into the service such vessels as the
schooner _Result_, the 220-ton lugger _Bayard_, the three-masted
schooner _Prize_, the motor drifter _Betsy Jameson_, the ketch _Sarah
Colebrooke_, the auxiliary schooner _Glen_ (alias _Sidney_), the
brigantine _Dargle_, the _Brown Mouse_ yacht, built on the lines of a
Brixham trawler, and so on. The barquentine _Merops_, otherwise known
as _Maracaio_ and Q 28, began decoy work in February, 1917. She was
fitted out in the Firth of Forth with a couple of 12-pounders and
a 4-inch gun. At the end of May she had a severe engagement with a
submarine, and was considerably damaged aloft. In March the 158-ton
Rye motor ketch _Sarah Colebrooke_ was requisitioned, and sent to
Portsmouth to be fitted out, appearing in May as the _Bolham_. A
month later, 20 miles south of Beachy Head, she fought a submarine,
and had quite an unpleasant time. One of the enemy’s shells exploded
under the port quarter, lifting the ketch’s stern high out of the
water, another exploded under the port leeboard, sending a column of
water on board, and swamping the boat; whilst a third burst on board,
doing considerable damage. She fought the submarine until the latter
disappeared, but the _Bolham’s_ motor was by this time so choked with
splinters and glass that she could not proceed to the spot where the
submarine had last been seen, and of course it so happened that there
was no wind.
On June 8 four fishing smacks were captured and sunk off the Start in
full view of the Q-smack _Prevalent_, a Brixham trawler armed with
a 12-pounder. Again it happened to be a calm, so _Prevalent_, being
too far away, was unable to render assistance. After this incident
it was decided to fit an auxiliary motor in the trawler-yacht _Brown
Mouse_, which was doing similar service and was specially suitable
for an engine. On the following day our friend _Helgoland_ had
another encounter, this time off the north coast of Ireland, the
exact spot being 8 miles N. by W. of Tory Island. The fight began at
7.25 a.m., and half an hour later the submarine obtained a direct hit
on the after-gun house of the brigantine, killing one man, wounding
four ratings, and stunning the whole of the after-guns’ crews. But
_Helgoland_, with her charmed life, was not sunk, and she shelled the
submarine so fiercely that the U-boat had to dive and disappear.
Even a private yacht was taken up for this work in June. This was the
116-ton topsail schooner _Lisette_, which had formerly belonged to
the Duke of Sutherland. She had been built as far back as 1873 with a
standing bowsprit and jibboom. She was taken from Cowes to Falmouth,
where she was commissioned in August, and armed with three 6-pounders.
But this old yacht was found to leak so much through her seams, and
her construction was so light, that she was never a success, and
was paid off in the following spring. In April, 1917, the auxiliary
schooner _Sidney_ (alias _Glen_) began service as a decoy, having been
requisitioned from her owners and fitted out at Portsmouth. A crew was
selected from the Trawler Reserve, but the guns’ crews were naval.
Armed with a 12-pounder and a 3-pounder, she was fitted with wireless,
and cruised about in the English Channel, her complement consisting
of Lieutenant R. J. Turnbull (R.N.R.), in command, one sub-lieutenant
(R.N.R.), one skipper (R.N.R.), two R.N.R. seamen, one R.N.R. stoker to
run the motor, a signal rating, a wireless operator, four R.N. ratings
for the big gun, and three for the smaller one. During the afternoon of
July 10, 1917, _Glen_ was in combat with a submarine of the UC type,
and had lowered her boat in the customary manner. A German officer from
the conning-tower hailed the boat, and in good English ordered her to
come alongside. This was being obeyed, when something seemed to startle
the officer, who suddenly disappeared into the conning-tower, and the
submarine began to dive. _Glen_ therefore opened fire, and distinctly
saw two holes abaft the conning-tower as the UC-boat rolled in the
swell. She was not seen again, and the Admiralty rewarded _Glen’s_
captain and Sub-Lieutenant K. Morris, R.N.R., with a D.S.C. each.
During the month of January, 1917, the naval base at Lowestoft called
for volunteers for work described as ‘dangerous, at times rather
monotonous, and not free from discomfort.’ Everyone, of course, knew
that this meant life in a Q-ship. The vessel selected was the 122-ton
three-masted topsail schooner _Result_, which was owned at Barnstaple,
and had in December come round to Lowestoft from the Bristol Channel.
Here she was fitted out and commissioned at the beginning of February,
being armed with a couple of 12-pounders, but also with torpedo-tubes.
As a sailing craft she was slow, unhandy, and practically unmanageable
in light winds. At the best she would lie no nearer to the wind than
5-1/2 points, and in bad weather she was like a half-tide rock. True,
she had a Bolinders motor, but the best speed they could thus get out
of her was 2-1/2 knots. The result was that her officers had great
difficulty in keeping her out of the East Coast minefields, and did
not always succeed. She took in 100 tons of sand as ballast, and a
rough cabin was fashioned out of the hold for the two officers. In
command was appointed Lieutenant P. J. Mack, R.N. (retired), a young
officer who had seen service at the Dardanelles in the battleship
_Lord Nelson_ and in the historic _River Clyde_, whence he had been
invalided home. As he was not an expert in the art of sailing, there
was selected to accompany him as second in command Lieutenant G.
H. P. Muhlhauser, R.N.R., who was not a professional seaman, but a
keen amateur yachtsman of considerable experience, who had made some
excellent cruises in his small yacht across the North Sea and had
passed the Board of Trade examination as master of his own yacht. The
sailing master who volunteered was an ex-schooner sailor, and her mate
also was an old blue-water seaman. The motor man was a motor mechanic
out of one of the Lowestoft M.L.’s, and there was a trimmer from the
Trawler Reserve. She carried also a wireless operator, a cook, a
chief petty officer, deckhands, and some Royal Naval ratings for the
armament. All the crew, consisting of twenty-two, had seen considerable
service during the war in various craft, and one of the deckhands
was in the drifter _Linsdell_, which was blown up on an East Coast
minefield at the commencement of the war. He had been then picked up
by H.M.S. _Speedy_, who in turn was immediately blown up. This man
survived again, and was now a volunteer in a Q-ship. _Result’s_ crew
were trained to go to their ‘panic stations’ at the given signal, when
the bulwarks were let down and the tarpaulins removed from the guns,
the engineer on those occasions standing at the hatchway amusingly
disguised as a woman passenger, arrayed in a pink blouse and a
tasselled cap which had been kindly provided by a lady ashore.
On February 9 _Result_ was all ready as a warship, and motored out
of Lowestoft. She then disguised herself as a neutral, affixed Dutch
colours to her topsides, and proceeded via Yarmouth Roads to the
neighbourhood of the North Hinder, the other side of the North Sea,
where the enemy was very fond of operating. On the fifteenth of the
following month _Result_ was cruising off the south-west end of the
Dogger Bank when she encountered UC 45 in the morning. Lieutenant
Muhlhauser, who was kind enough to give me his account of the incident,
has described it with such vividness that I cannot do better than
present the version in his own words. It should be added that at the
time _Result_ was steering E.S.E., and was now in the position Lat.
54.19 N., Long. 1.45 E. The submarine was sighted 2-1/2 miles astern,
the wind was northerly, force 5 to 6, the sea being 4 to 5 and rapidly
rising. In other words, it was a nasty, cold North Sea day, and one in
which it would have been most unpleasant to have been torpedoed. The
engagement was a difficult one, as the ship had to be manœuvred so that
her guns would bear, and careful seamanship had to be used to prevent
her lying in the trough of the sea. As it was, with bulwarks down, the
decks and gun-wells were awash and frequently full of water, while the
submarine, being only occasionally visible when _Result_ was on the top
of the sea, made a target that was anything but easy.
‘By 7 a.m.,’ says Lieutenant Muhlhauser, ‘we had got all the topsails
off her, and at this moment the C.O. appeared on deck and, looking
aft, said, “Why, there is a submarine!” and at the same moment it was
reported from aloft. Word was passed to the watches below to stand by.
In a few minutes came the report of a gun. I do not know where the
shell went. The men ran to their stations, or crawled there according
to what their job was, and the ship was brought on the wind. The
submarine continued firing at the rate of a shell every minute or
thereabouts. The C.O. then ordered the jibs to be run down, and while
this was being done a shell stranded the foretopmast forestay, but
luckily did not burst. It went off whistling. Some of the shells were
fairly well aimed, but the bulk were either 50 or 60 yards short or
over, and at times more than that. As the submarine kept about 2,000
yards off, the C.O. ordered the boat away, with the skipper in charge.
Four hands went with him. He was reluctant to go, I think, though, as
a matter of fact, he ran quite as much risk as did those remaining
on board, if not more, as he would have been in an awkward position
if by any chance the ship worked away from him and the submarine got
him. It would have been a hard job to persuade the submariners that
he was anything but British. However, off he went in a nasty sea.
In lowering the boat we made efforts to capsize her, but she was
difficult to upset, and as the sub. was some way off and unlikely to
see the “accident,” we did not waste much time on it, but let her go
down right side up. Away went the skipper and his crew, and he admits
feeling lonely with a hostile submarine near by and the ship and her
guns working away from him. He says he was struck with the beauty of
her lines, and she never appeared more attractive to him. As a matter
of fact, his was a rotten position, which was not improved by the sub.
firing at him two or three shells, which went over and short. Evidently
the submarine, which by the way had closed to 1,000 yards as soon as
the boat left the ship, wanted him to pull towards it, instead of which
he was digging out after us manfully. Meanwhile the ship appeared quite
deserted. Everyone was concealed. The C.O. prowled around the deck on
his hands and knees, peering through cracks and rivet holes in the
bulwarks to see how the submarine was getting on. All I could see of
him was the stern position of his body and the soles of an enormous
pair of clogs. I sat on deck at the wheel, trying to get and keep the
ship in the wind, so as not to get too far from the boat. All this
time the submarine was firing steadily, and one shell went through the
mizzen, while others, as the C.O. reported from time to time, burst
short, some of them close. Splinters from the latter went through the
stay- and fore-sails. At 1,000 yards the ship is a fairly big target,
and the shooting of the Huns must be put down as bad.
‘It is all very well serving as a target at 1,000 yards, but it is an
experience which must not be too long continued in case a lucky shot
disables one. In the present case, moreover, the wind and sea were
rapidly increasing, and we were leaving the boat in spite of all our
efforts to stop. The submarine seemed quite determined not to come any
nearer, and the C.O. decided that the moment had come for our side to
begin. Just before this one of the bulwarks, luckily on the side away
from the sub., had fallen down, and let a deluge of water on to the
decks, but this did not affect things as far as we know.
‘At the word, down fell the bulwarks, round came the guns, and up
went the White Ensign. Only the after 12-pounder gun would bear. The
first shell struck the submarine at the junction of the conning-tower
and deck forward. The 6-pounder also fired one shell, and hit the
conning-tower. The second shell from the big gun burst short. By the
time the smoke had cleared away the submarine had disappeared. Had we
sunk her or had she dipped? This is the point which is exercising our
minds. The C.O. thinks the evidence of sinking her is not conclusive,
but most of us think she has gone down for ever.
‘We then made for the boat, which was still labouring after us, and got
it hooked on and hoisted. There was quite a decent-sized sea, and the
hoisting process was not very pleasant for those left in to hook on,
not to mention that they got wet from the exhaust.
‘At the time the sub. was firing, one of the officers or crew was
standing on the conning-tower rails, probably spotting for the
gunners. He was there when the first shell struck, but was not noticed
afterwards. Very likely he had fallen into the tower, but he may have
fallen into the water.
‘We certainly gave them a lesson in gunnery, two hits out of three
shots. Compare that with their performance. Moreover, our guns had to
be swung into position, while theirs was already pointed.
‘Having picked up the boat, we made for the spot where the sub. had
disappeared, but could not be sure that we had reached it. Anyway, we
saw no traces of it. We did not spend much time in searching, but put
the ship back on her course. The wind and sea were by this time strong
and heavy, and after running out for half an hour we turned and headed
west, with the idea of being near shelter if a north-east gale, which
I had predicted, came along. As a matter of fact it did not, and my
reputation as a weather-prophet is tarnished. Our alteration of course
was made solely from weather conditions, but it must have seemed very
suspicious to a second submarine which now arrived on the scene, and
which had probably been chasing us without our knowing it. Instead of
it chasing us, it suddenly found us coming to meet it, and must have
been puzzled. By way of clearing the air it fired a torpedo from a
distance of about 2,000 yards, and missed us by about 200 yards—a bad
effort. It then fired three shells at us, which also went wide. There
is no doubt that this was another, and smaller, submarine from the
first, but we did not grasp this at first, and so without more ado we
let drive at it, but unluckily the gun missed fire twice. Fleet then
opened the breech, at some risk to himself, and drew out the cartridge
and threw it away. But this wasted time, and when he did fire the shell
went short. The submarine had taken advantage of the pause to get ready
to dive, and did not wait for another shot, but went under as soon as
we fired.
‘It was no use waiting about, as we should very likely have been
torpedoed, so we went on towards the land.
‘And so ended what the skipper calls the “Battle of the Silver Pit,”
from the name of the fishing ground where it took place. As far as
it went it was satisfactory, but we should like to be sure that we
sank the first. The two engagements took about two hours. Possibly by
waiting we might have done better, but, on the other hand, we might
have done worse.’
It was eventually known that the first submarine was UC 45, who paid
the _Result_ the compliment of describing this ship’s gunfire as
well-controlled. She got back safely to Germany. For the manner in
which the fighting had been conducted, Lieutenant Mack and the skipper
were both mentioned in despatches.
After the return to Lowestoft, _Result_ was altered in appearance and
was sent off to the area where this encounter had taken place. This
time she used Swedish colours, and called herself the _Dag_. On this
voyage, whilst in the vicinity north of the North Hinder Bank, on April
4, about 4 a.m., a submarine was seen on the port bow, but disappeared.
It was so big that at first it resembled a steamer or destroyer.
Presently a periscope was seen about 4 points on the bow, resembling
a topmast, as it had a rake. The lower portion was about 6 inches in
diameter, and a narrower stem protruded from this, terminating in a
ball, and whilst officers and crew watched it, wondering whether it was
the mast of a wreck or not, it slowly dipped and vanished. This was
the submarine in the act of taking a photograph. She then retired to a
distance convenient for shelling. There was a light westerly breeze,
and the enemy now bobbed up at intervals all round the _Dag_, examining
her very carefully. Lieutenant Muhlhauser writes of this incident:
‘Then followed a pause of nearly half an hour without our seeing
anything of him. The cook was sent to the galley to get on with
breakfast and we started the engine. It is hardly necessary to say that
as it was particularly wanted it ran very badly, and, indeed, could
hardly be kept going at all. Suddenly a shell burst near us, followed
by another and another. We could not at first tell the direction from
which they came, and thought it was from astern, but found that the
submarine had cunningly moved away towards the sun, and had emerged in
the mist behind the path of the sun, where he was practically invisible
from our ship, while we were lit up and must have offered a splendid
target with our white hull and sails. His shooting was very good,
and none of the shells missed us by much. He fired rapidly, and was
probably using a 4·1-inch semi-automatic gun. The shells all burst on
striking the water, and the explosions had a vicious sound. They seemed
to come at a terrific speed, suggesting a high-velocity gun. The C.O.
calmly walked the deck, the skipper took the wheel, and I sat at the
top of the cabin hatchway and noted the times and numbers of shells
fired and anything else of interest. The rest of the crew were at their
stations, but keeping below the bulwarks, except those who launched the
boat and let it tow astern. The eleventh shell struck us just above
the water-line, and soused us all with spray which flew up above the
peak of the mainsail. It tore a hole in the side and burst in the sand
ballast, reducing the skipper’s cabin to matchwood, and destroying the
wireless instrument. It also knocked down the sides of the magazine and
set fire to the wood, starting some of the rockets smouldering. It also
smashed up the patent fire extinguishers, and possibly the fumes from
these prevented the fire from spreading. Anyway, it was out when we
had time to see what was happening.
‘In the meantime we could not afford to be hit again, and the C.O.
gave the word to open fire. Down went the bulwarks and round swung the
guns, but where was the target? Hidden in the mist behind the sun’s
path it was invisible to the gun-layers looking through telescopes,
and they were obliged to fire into the gloom at a venture. The poor
little 6-pounder was quite outranged, and it is doubtful if the shells
went more than two-thirds of the way. The other guns had sufficient
range, but it was impossible to judge the distance or observe the fall
of the shots. However, they made a glorious and cheering noise, and
Fritz dived as soon as he could. There is not the least reason for
thinking that we hit him. The skipper, deceived by the low freeboard
revealed when the bulwarks were down, at this stage quickly announced
the conviction that she was sinking. Smoke was also pouring out of the
hatches, and we had two wounded men to see to: Ryder, who was in the
magazine and who was hit in the arm, sustaining a compound fracture,
and Morris, also in the magazine, bruised in the back and suffering
from shock. We were not, therefore, in a position to continue the
battle, and things looked a bit blue. Fritz might be expected to be
along in a few minutes submerged, and he would have little difficulty
in torpedoing us, as we were very nearly a stationary target. We had
no means of warding him off except by a depth charge. That might
inconvenience him, but it would hardly delay him long, and he could
then either torpedo us or retire out of range of our guns and pound us
to pieces, as his gun had a range of about 5,000 yards more than ours.
Sure enough he was soon after us, as we crawled along at our 4-knot
gait, and raised his periscope right astern about 200 yards off.
‘We then slung over a depth charge, and had just got our 10-feet
clearance when it went off, and made quite a creditable stir for a
little ‘un. Fritz promptly disappeared to think things over, and we
were relieved of the sight of the sinister-looking periscope. But we
had only delayed things a little. He would soon recover and adopt fresh
tactics. Still, for ten minutes we should have peace to attend to our
wounded and the damage. The C.O. supervised the bandaging of Ryder, who
had been lying on deck since he had been drawn out of the magazine.
I had passed him—passed over him, in fact—once or twice in going
forward, and thought he was dead, as he lay so still. Then the hole
in the side wanted attention, and also the fire below. Just then the
look-outs reported the _Halcyon_[2] and two P-boats ahead coming our
way. We were extremely glad to hear them shout out, as it meant all the
difference between being sunk and not being sunk. When the skipper had
called out “She is sinking, sir,” I thought of the number our little
boat would hold, and the number of the crew, and had reflected that
my number was up. The arrival of the _Halcyon_ and her attendants put
a different complexion on things, and while efforts were being made
by guns to attract their attention, I set about plugging our hole and
trying to find the fire.
‘Stringer warned me that he had tried to get below, but had found the
fumes too much. By the time I got there they must have cleared, as I
did not find them too bad. The place was full of smoke, but though
I pulled things about blindly, as it was impossible to see anything,
I could not see any glow to indicate a fire. Ultimately I did see a
light, but on making for it I found it was Dawes and an electric light.
He had entered from the mess-deck. There appearing to be no immediate
danger from fire, I crawled round to the shot-hole and found water
coming in through rivet holes. The main hole had been plugged from the
outside by two coal-bags and a shot-hole plug. I got tools and cut up
some wood, while Wreford cut up a coal-bag into 6-inch squares. These
Dawes and I hammered home, and made her fairly tight.
‘Meanwhile great efforts were being made to communicate with the
_Halcyon_, to let them know that a submarine was about, and to ask for
a doctor. We could not get the _Halcyon_, but one of the P-boats came
rushing by at full speed, and asked where we were from! They had not
recognized us! We could get nothing out of these ships. They rushed
about the horizon at full speed and disappeared into the mist and came
out of it again somewhere else, but generally kept away from us, though
occasionally a P-boat tore past going “all out.”
‘While this circus was going on, a number of T.B.D.’s were reported on
our starboard quarter, and three light cruisers and then T.B.D.’s swept
into sight and seemed to fill the whole horizon. They went on, ignoring
our request for a doctor, and disappeared in the mist, but their place
was taken by other T.B.D.’s. The place seemed full of them. Where they
all came from I do not know, or what they were doing, but everywhere
one looked one could see some of these beautiful vessels rushing along.
It was a fine, stirring sight. Finally we got one of them to stop and
lower a whaler with a doctor. While she was stopped her companion ships
steamed round to ward off attack. The doctor came on board, and decided
that Ryder ought to go in at once, and the T.B.D. _Torrent_ agreed to
take him in when asked by signal. So away went poor Ryder in great
pain, I fear, in spite of two morphia pills which we gave him. The C.O.
was afraid that we had given him too much, but one did not seem to do
him much good, so we gave him another one.
‘While we were transshipping him, the _Halcyon_ came tearing past, and
shouted that there was a hostile submarine 3 miles to the southward.
This, however, did not worry us with all these T.B.D.’s around. We were
in a scene of tremendous, even feverish, activity. There were sweepers,
T.B.D.’s, P-boats, and our own submarines all about. At 6 a.m. the
world held us and a very nasty, large, hostile submarine, which could
both outrange and outmanœuvre us, and the game seemed up. At 6.30 a.m.
we were as safe as one could wish to be, with a considerable portion of
England’s light forces around us. “Some change!”’
[Footnote 2: H.M.S. _Halcyon_, torpedo-gunboat, 1,070 tons.]