LIFE ON BOARD A Q-SHIP
In history it is frequently the case that what seems to contemporaries
merely ordinary and commonplace is to posterity of the utmost value and
interest. How little, for example, do we know of the life and routine
in the various stages and development of the sailing ship! In a volume
entitled ‘Ships and Ways of Other Days,’ published before the war, I
endeavoured to collect and present the everyday existence at sea in
bygone years. Some day, in the centuries to come, it may be that the
historical student will require to know something of the organization
and mode of life on board one of the Q-steamships, and because it is
just one of those matters, which at the time seemed so obvious, I have
now thought it advisable here to set down a rough outline. As time goes
on the persons of the drama die, logs and diaries and correspondence
fall into unsympathetic hands and become destroyed; therefore, whilst
it is yet not too late, let us provide for posterity some facts on
which they can base their imagination of Q-ship life.
Elsewhere in the pages of this book the reader will find it possible
to gather some idea of the types, sizes, and appearances of the ships
employed. The following details are chiefly those of one of the most
distinguished Q-ships, the famous _Penshurst_, and as such they have
especial interest as showing the organization of a tiny little tramp
into a valiant and successful man-of-war that sank several powerful
enemy submarines; and it is through the courtesy of her gallant late
commanding officer, Captain F. H. Grenfell, D.S.O., R.N., that I am
able to present these facts.
[Illustration: Q-SHIP “DUNRAVEN”
Showing the damage done to her poop after the action with submarine.
The after-deck is already well awash and presently she foundered.
To face p. 214]
_Penshurst_ was a three-masted, single-funnelled, single-screw
steamer, owned by a London firm. She had been fitted out as a decoy at
the end of 1915 by Admiral Colville at Longhope. Her length between
perpendiculars was 225 feet, length over all 232 feet, beam 35 feet
2 inches, draught 14 feet 6 inches, depth of hold 13 feet 7 inches.
Her tonnage was 1,191 gross, 740 registered, displacement 2,035
tons. Fitted with four bulkheads, the ship had the maximum amount of
hold, the engines being placed right aft. The crew were berthed in
the forecastle, the engineers’ mess and cabins being aft, whilst the
captain’s and officers’ mess and cabins were adjacent to the bridge
just forward of midships. The engine-room pressure was 180 pounds, and
the maximum speed, with everything working well and a clean bottom, was
10 knots. Her armament consisted of five guns. A 12-pounder (18 cwt.)
was placed on the after hatch, but disguised in the most ingenious
manner by a ship’s boat, which had been purposely sawn through so that
the detached sections could immediately be removed, allowing the gun
to come into action. Originally there were mounted a 3-pounder and
6-pounder on each side of the lower bridge deck. These were hidden
behind wooden screens such as are often found built round the rails
in this kind of ship. These screens were specially hinged so that on
going into action they immediately fell down and revealed the guns.
Thus it was possible always to offer a broadside of three guns. In
the spring of 1916 _Penshurst_ was transferred from Longhope to Milford
and Queenstown, and Admiral Bayly had the arrangement of guns altered
so that the 3-pounders were now concealed in a gunhouse made out of the
engineers’ mess and cabins, the intention being to enable both these
guns to fire right aft. The 6-pounders were then shifted forward into
the positions previously occupied by the 3-pounders on the lower bridge
deck. How successful this arrangement was in action the reader is able
to see for himself in the accounts of _Penshurst’s_ engagements with
submarines. The ship was also supplied with depth charges, rockets, and
Verey’s lights.
The crew consisted of Captain Grenfell and three temporary R.N.R.
officers, an R.N.R. assistant-paymaster, thirteen Royal Navy gunnery
ratings, eight R.N.R. seamen, a couple of stewards, two cooks, a
shipwright, carpenter’s crew, an R.N.R. chief engine-room artificer, an
engine-room artificer, and R.N.R. stokers, bringing the company up to
forty-five.
In arranging action stations in a Q-ship the difficulty was that
internally the vessel had to be organized as a warship, while
externally she must necessarily keep up the character of a merchantman.
In _Penshurst_ Captain Grenfell had arranged for the following signals
to be rung from the bridge on the alarm gong. One long ring meant that
a submarine was in sight and that the crew were to stand by at their
respective stations; if followed by a short ring it denoted the enemy
was on the starboard side; if two short rings the submarine was on
the port side. Two long rings indicated that the crew were to go to
panic stations; three long rings meant that they were to go to action
stations without ‘panic.’ ‘Open fire’ was ordered by a succession of
short rings and whistles.
With regard to the above, in the case of action stations the look-out
men on the bridge proceeded to their gun at the stand-by signal,
keeping out of sight, while the crews who were below, off watch, went
also to their guns, moving by the opposite side of the ship. In order
to simulate the real mercantile crew, the men under the foc’s’le now
came out and showed themselves on the fore well deck. If ‘panic’ was to
be feigned, all the crew of the gun concealed by the collapsible boat
were to hide, the signalman stood by to hoist the White Ensign at the
signal to open fire, and the boat party ran aft, turned out the boats,
lowered them, and ‘abandoned’ ship, pulling away on the opposite bow.
The signal for standing-by to release the depth charge was when the
captain dropped a red flag, and all guns’ crews were to look out to
fire on the enemy if the depth charge brought the U-boat to the surface.
[Illustration:
[_Photo. Heath and Stoneman_
THE GALLANT OFFICERS AND CREW OF THE Q-SHIP “DUNRAVEN.”
Captain Gordon Campbell is in the second row with Lieutenant C. G.
Bonner on his right.
To face p. 216]
Special arrangements had been made in the event of casualties. Thus,
if the captain were laid out a certain officer was to carry on and
take over command. Similar arrangements were made in the event of all
officers on the bridge becoming casualties, an eventuality that was
far from improbable. In fact, Captain Grenfell gave orders that if a
shell burst on or near the bridge a certain officer was to be
informed in any case; and if the latter did not receive word of this
explosion he was to assume that everyone on the bridge was a casualty
and he was to be ready to open fire at the right time. One of the
possibilities in the preliminary stages of these attacks was always
that owing to the hitting by the enemy’s shells, or, more likely
still, by the explosion of his torpedo against the side of the ship,
some portion of the screens or dummy deckhouses might have been
damaged, and thus the guns be revealed to the enemy. So, while
_Penshurst’s_ captain was busily engaged watching the movements of
the submarine, the information as to this unfortunate fact might have
been made known. It was therefore a standing rule that the bridge was
to be informed by voice-pipe of such occurrences. Damage received in
the engine-room was reported up the pipe to the bridge. Conversely
there were placed three men at the voice-pipes—one on the bridge, one
in the gunhouse aft, and one at the 12-pounder—whose duty it was to
pass along the messages, the first-mentioned passing down the varying
bearing and range of the submarine and the state of affairs on the
bridge, and when no orders were necessary he was to keep passing
along the comforting remark ‘All right.’ By this means the hidden
officers and guns’ crews were kept informed of the position of
affairs and able to have the guns instantly ready to fire at the very
moment the screens were let down. Obviously victory and the very
lives of every man in the ship could be secured only if the vessel
came into action smartly and effectively without accident or
bungling.
Sometimes victory was conditional only on being torpedoed, so that
the enemy might believe he had got the steamer in a sinking condition
and the vessel was apparently genuinely abandoned. Inasmuch as the
submarine on returning home had to afford some sort of evidence, the
U-boat captain would approach the ship and endeavour to read her
name. It was then that the Q-ship’s opportunity presented itself, and
the guns poured shells into the German. Special drills were therefore
made in case _Penshurst_ should be hit by torpedo, and in this
eventuality the boat ‘panic party’ was to lower away and at once
start rowing off from the ship, whilst the remainder hid themselves
at their respective stations. As for the engineers, their duty was to
stop the engines at once, but to try to keep the dynamo running as
long as possible so that wireless signals could still be sent out.
The engine-room staff were to remain below as long as conditions
would allow, but if the water rose so that these were compelled to
come up, their orders were to crawl out on to the deck on the
disengaged side and there lie down lest the enemy should see them. As
these Q-ships usually carried depth charges and the latter exploded
under certain conditions of pressure from the sea, it was one of the
first duties on being torpedoed that these should be secured.
Now, supposing the Q-ship were actually sunk and the whole crew were
compelled _really_ to abandon ship, what then? The submarine would
certainly come alongside the boats and make inquiries. She would want
to know, for instance, the name of the ship, owners, captain, cargo,
where from, where bound. That was certain. She would also, most
probably, insist on taking the captain prisoner, if the incident
occurred in the last eighteen months of the war. All these officers
and men would, of course, be wearing not smart naval uniform, but be
attired in the manner fitting the _personnel_ of an old tramp. The
captain would be wearing a peaked cap, with the house-flag of his
Company suitably intertwined in the cap badge, while the men would be
attired in guernseys, old suits, and mufflers, with a dirty old cloth
cap. Now, if the U-boat skipper was a live man and really knew his
work he would, of course, become suspicious on seeing so many hands
from one sunken tramp. ‘This,’ he would remark, ‘is no merchant ship,
but a proper trap,’ and would proceed to cross-examine the boats’
crews. It was therefore the daily duty of Q-ship men to learn a
suitable lie which would adequately deceive the German. Here is the
information which _Penshurst_ was, at a certain period of her Q-ship
career, ready to hand out to any inquisitive Hun if the latter had
sunk the ship.
In answer to questions the crew would reply: ‘This is the S.S.
_Penshurst_, owned by the Power Steam Ship Company of London. Her
master was Evan Davies, but he has gone down with the ship, poor man.
Cargo? She was carrying coal, but she was not an Admiralty collier.’
Then the enemy would ask where from and to. If it happened that
_Penshurst_ was in a likely locality the reply would be: ‘From
Cardiff’; otherwise the name of a well distant coal port, such as
Newcastle or Liverpool, was decided upon. For instance, if
_Penshurst_ were sunk in the neighbourhood of Portland Bill whilst
heading west it would be no good to pretend you were from the Mersey
or Bristol Channel. When the German commented on the singularly large
number of the crew, he would get the reply: ‘Yes, these aren’t all
our own chaps. We picked up some blokes two days ago from a torpedoed
ship.’ Then in answer to further questions one of the survivors from
the latter would back up the lie with the statement that they were
the starboard watch of the S.S. _Carron_, owned by the Carron
Company, 2,350 tons, bound with a cargo of coal from Barry (or
Sunderland) to a French port. In this case Captain Grenfell would
pretend to be the master of the _Carron_, and of _Penshurst’s_ four
officers one would pretend he was the first mate of the Carron,
another the first mate of the collier _Penshurst_, another the
_Penshurst’s_ second mate, whilst the assistant-paymaster, not being
a navigator, passed as chief steward. Thus, every little detail was
thought out for every possible _contretemps_. To surprise the enemy
and yet not to let him surprise you was the aim.
[Illustration: Q-SHIP “BARRANCA”
In one form of disguise. Hull painted a light colour, black boot-top
to funnel, funnel painted a light colour, alley ways open. She is here
seen in her original colour as a West Indian fruit-carrier.]
[Illustration: Q-SHIP “BARRANCA”
Appearance altered by painting hull black and funnel black with white
band. She is here disguised as a Spaniard, with Spanish colours painted
on the ship’s side just forward of the bridge, though not discernable
in the photograph.
To face p. 220]
If, by a piece of bad luck, your identity as a Q-ship had been
revealed—and this did occur—so that the enemy got away before you had
time to sink him, there was nothing for it but to get the other side
of the horizon and alter the appearance of the ship. To the landsman
this may seem rather an impossible proposition. I admit at once that
in the case of the Q-sailing-ships this was rather a tall order, for
the plain reason that topsail schooners and brigantines in these modern
days of maritime enterprise are comparatively few in number. But the
greatest part of our sea-borne trade is carried on in small steamers
of more or less standardized type or types. Vessels of the type such
as _Penshurst_ and _Suffolk Coast_ are to be seen almost everywhere in
our narrow seas: except for the markings on their funnels they are as
much like each other as possible. In a fleet of such craft it would
be about as easy for a German to tell one from another as in a Tokio
crowd it would be for an Englishman to tell one Japanese from another.
The points which distinguish these craft the one from the other are of
minor consideration, such as the colour of the hull, the colour of the
funnel, the device on the funnel, the number of masts, the topmast,
derricks, cross-trees, and so on. Thus, in the case of _Penshurst_
there were any amount of disguises which in a few hours would render
her a different ship. For instance, by painting her funnel black, with
red flag and white letters thereon, she might easily be taken for one
of the Carron Company’s steamers, such as the _Forth_. By giving
her a black funnel with a white =V= she might be the _Gloucester
Coast_ of the Powell, Bacon, and Hough Lines, Ltd.; by altering the
funnel to black, white, red, white, and black bands she might have
been the _Streatham_, owned by Messrs. John Harrison, Ltd. Other
similar craft, such as the _Blackburn_ and _Bargang_, had no funnel
marks; so here again were more disguises. _Penshurst_ further altered
her appearance at times by taking down her mizzen-mast altogether,
by filling in the well deck forward, by adding a false steam-pipe to
the funnel, by shortening and levelling the derricks, by removing the
main cross-trees, by painting or varnishing the wood bridge-screen, by
giving the deckhouses a totally different colour, by showing red lead
patches on the hull, and varying the colour of the sides with such hues
as black to-day, next time green or grey or black, and adding a sail on
the forestay.
If you will examine the photos of Commander Douglas’s Q-ship
_Barranca_, you will see how cleverly, by means of a little faking,
even a much bigger ship could be disguised. In one picture you see
her alley-ways covered up by a screen, funnel markings altered, and
so on; whilst in another the conspicuous white upper-works, the white
band on the funnel, and the dark hull make her a different ship, so
that, he tells me, on one occasion after passing a suspicious neutral
steamer and not being quite satisfied, he was able to steam out of
sight, change his ship’s appearance, and then overtake her, get quite
close and make a careful examination without revealing his identity.
To the landsman all this may seem impossible, but inasmuch as the
sea is traversed nowadays by steamers differing merely in minute
details, distinguished only to the practised eye of the sailor, such
deception is possible. I remember on one occasion during the war a
surprising instance of this. Being in command of a steam drifter off
the south-west Irish coast, I obtained Admiral Bayly’s permission at
my next refit to have the ship painted green, the foremast stepped,
the funnel and markings painted differently, and a Dublin fishing
letter and number painted on the bows, a suitable name being found in
the Fisherman’s Almanack. The 6-pounder gun forward was covered with
fishing gear, which could be thrown overboard as soon as the ship
came into action. Discarding naval uniform and wearing old cloth caps
and clothes, we left Queenstown, steamed into Berehaven, and tied up
alongside a patrol trawler with whom we had been working in company for
nearly a year. The latter’s crew never recognized us until they saw our
faces, and even then insisted that we had got a new ship! In fact, one
of them asserted that he knew this Dublin drifter very well, at which
my Scotch crew from the Moray Firth were vastly amused.
[Illustration: Q-SHIP “BARRANCA”
Disguised as a different ship with yellow funnel and black boot-top.]
[Illustration: Q SHIP “BARRANCA”
Appearance changed by closing up alley-ways, painting hull, ship’s
boats, and funnel so as to resemble a freighter of the P. & O. Line.
To face p. 222]
Routine at sea of course differed in various Q-ships, but it may
be interesting to set down the following, which prevailed in that
well-organized ship _Penshurst_:
SEA ROUTINE.
Time as { Call guns’ crew of morning watch; 3-pounder crew
per Night { lash up and stow. Guns’ crew close up, uncover
Order { guns, unship 6-pounder night-sights. Gunlayers
Book. { report their crews closed up to officers of the
{ watch.
5.30 a.m. Call cooks and stewards.
6.0 a.m. 12-pounder crew and one of 3-pounder crew to wash
down bridges and saloon-decks.
7.0 a.m. Call guns’ crews of forenoon watch, lash up and
stow hammocks. Hands to wash.
7.30 a.m. Forenoon watch to breakfast.
8.0 a.m. Change watches. Morning watch lash up and stow
hammocks. Breakfast.
9.0 a.m. Watch below clean mess-deck, etc.
11.30 a.m. Afternoon watch to dinner.
12.30 p.m. Change watches. Forenoon watch to dinner.
1.30 p.m. Cooks clean up mess-deck.
3.30 p.m. Tea.
4.0 p.m. Change watches. Afternoon watch to tea.
6.0 p.m. Change watches.
7.0 p.m. Supper.
8.0 p.m. Change watches. Watch below to supper.
Sunset. Clean guns, ship 6-pounder night-sights. Cover
guns. Drill as required.
A few weeks after the war, Lord Jellicoe remarked publicly that in
the ‘mystery ship’ there had been displayed a spirit of endurance,
discipline, and courage, the like of which the world had never seen
before. He added that he did not think the English people realized the
wonderful work which these ships had done in the war. No one who reads
the facts here presented can fail to agree with this statement, which,
indeed, is beyond argument. Discipline, of course, there was, even in
the apparently and externally most slovenly tramp Q-ship; and it must
not be thought that among so many crews of ‘hard cases’ all the hands
were as harmless as china shepherdesses. When ashore, the average
sailor is not always at his best: his qualities are manifest on sea and
in the worst perils pertaining to the sea. The landsman, therefore,
has the opportunity of observing him when the sailor wants to forget
about ships and seas. If some of the Q-ships’ crews occasionally kicked
over the traces in the early days the fault was partly their own, but
partly it was as the result of circumstances. Even Q-ship crews were
human, and after weeks of cruising and pent-up keenness, after being
battered about by seas, shelled by submarines while lying in dreadful
suspense, and then doing all that human nature could be expected to
perform, much may be forgiven them if the attractions of the shore
temporarily overpowered them. In the early stages of the Q-ship the
mistake was made of sending to them the ‘bad hats’ and impossible men
of the depots; but the foolishness of this was soon discovered. Only
the best men were good enough for this special service, and as the men
were well paid and well decorated in return for success, there was no
difficulty in choosing from the forthcoming volunteers an ideal crew.
Any Q-ship captain will bear testimony to the wonderful effect wrought
on a crew by the first encounter with an enemy submarine. The average
seaman has much in him of the simple child, and has to be taught by
plain experience to see the use and necessity of monotonous routine,
of drills and discipline; but having once observed in hard battle the
value of obedience, of organization and the like, he is a different
man—he looks at sea-life, in spite of its boredom, from a totally
different angle. Perfect discipline usually spelled victory over the
enemy. Presently that, in turn, indicated a medal ribbon and ‘a drop
of leaf’ at home, so as to tell his family all about it. Never again
would he overstay his leave: back to the ship for him to give further
evidence of his prowess.
This was the kind of fellow who could be relied upon to maintain at
sea the gallant traditions of British seamanhood, and in their time
of greatest peril the true big-souled character manifested itself, as
real human truth always emerges in periods of crisis. I am thinking
of one man who served loyally and faithfully in a certain Q-ship. In
one engagement this gallant British sailor while in the execution of
his duty was blown literally to pieces except for an arm, a leg in a
sea-boot, and the rest a mere shattered, indescribable mass, his blood
and flesh being scattered everywhere by the enemy’s attack. And yet the
last words of this good fellow, spoken just before it was too late, did
much to help the Q-ship in her success. In a previous engagement this
man’s gun had the misfortune to start with seven missfires. This was
owing to ammunition rendered faulty by having been kept on the deck
too long as ‘ready-use.’ Consequently his gun did not come into action
as quickly as the others. This piece of bad luck greatly upset such a
keen warrior, and he was determined that no such accident should occur
again. Therefore, in the next fight, just as he was crouching with
his gun’s crew behind the bridge-screen, he was heard to say to his
mates: ‘Now, mind. We’re to be the _first_ gun in action this time.’
Immediately afterwards a shell came and killed him instantaneously.
Or, again, consider the little human touch in the case of the Q-ship
commanded by Lieut.-Commander McLeod, which had been ‘done in’ and was
sinking, so that she had really to be abandoned. When all were getting
away in the boats, Lieut.-Commander McLeod’s servant was found to be
missing. At the last moment he suddenly reappeared, carrying with him
a bag which he had gone back to fetch. In it was Lieut.-Commander
McLeod’s best monkey-jacket. ‘I thought as you might want this, sir,
seeing you’ll have to go and see the Admiral when we get back to
Queenstown,’ was his cool explanation. Nothing could crush this kind of
spirit, which prevailed in the trenches, the air, and on sea until the
Armistice was won. It is the spirit of our forefathers, the inheritance
of our island race, which, notwithstanding political and domestic
tribulations, lies silent, dormant, undemonstrative, until the great
hour comes for the best that is in us to show itself. Germany, of
course, had her disguised armed ships, such as the _Moewe_, the _Wolf_,
and so on, and with them our late enemies performed unquestionably
brilliant work all over the world. It is true, also, that a similar
achievement was attained in one disguised sailing ship; nor can we fail
to admire the pluck and enterprise which enabled them to get through
the British blockade. To belittle such first-class work would be to
turn one’s back on plain truth.
But the Q-ship service was not a short series of three or four spasms,
but took its part in the persistent prosecution of the anti-submarine
campaign. It remained a perpetual thorn in the enemy’s side, and it
was a most dangerous thorn. Unlike the U-boat service in its later
stages, it continued to be composed of volunteers, and it was certainly
the means of bringing to light extraordinary talent and courage.
Like other children, the seaman loves dressing up and acting. In the
Q-ship he found this among the other attractions, of which not the
least was the conscious joy of taking a big share in the greatest of
all wars. In one Q-ship alone were earned no fewer than four D.S.O.’s
and three bars, five D.S.C.’s and seven bars, one Croix de Guerre,
and six ‘mentions’ among the officers. Among the men this ship earned
twenty-one D.S.M.’s and four bars, as well as three ‘mentions.’ To-day
as you pass some tired old tramp at sea, or watch a begrimed steamer
taking in a cargo of coals, you may be gazing at a ship as famous as
Grenville’s _Revenge_ or Drake’s _Golden Hind_. At the end of the war
the Admiralty decided to place a memorial tablet on board each merchant
vessel that had acted as a decoy during the war, the tablet being
suitably inscribed with details of the gallant ship’s service, together
with the names of the commanding officer and members of the crew who
received decorations. The first of these ships so to be commemorated
was the _Lodorer_, better known to us as Captain Campbell’s Q-ship
_Farnborough_. After hostilities, in the presence of representatives
of the owners and the Ministry of Shipping, Vice-Admiral Sir Alexander
Duff unveiled _Lodorer’s_ tablet, and those who read it may well think
and reflect.