A Sub and a Submarine: The Story of H.M. Submarine R19 in the Great War
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CHAPTER V
The Stowaway
Lieutenant-Commander the Hon. Derek Stockdale stooped and patted thedog's head. Flirt, instinctively realizing that she was beingcaressed by a friend, wagged a stumpy tail and licked the skipper'stanned hand.
It was on the morning following R19's departure and Noel Fordyce'sdiscovery. The submarine was still running awash. North, south, east,and west the horizon was unbroken. Sea and sky met in a sharp,well-defined line. Save for R19, the broad expanse of the North Seaappeared to be deserted, although none could tell what dangers lurkedbeneath the surface of the dull-green water.
The skipper was taking a stroll on deck when Noel appeared with thefour-footed Stowaway. Lieutenant Macquare was on duty on thenavigating-platform. For'ard of the conning-tower half a dozenbluejackets, clad in fearnought suits, evinced a lively interest inthe proceedings.
THE TOO-FAITHFUL FLIRT]
"So this is the animal that didn't bite Councillor What's-his-name?"remarked the Lieutenant-Commander, for the report of the police-courtproceedings at the Otherport Town Hall was common knowledge.
"I'm afraid, sir," replied the Sub, "that Flirt was guilty of theoffence."
"Eh, what's that?" asked the Hon. Derek sharply.
Briefly Noel outlined what had occurred, for the present confininghimself to the case as decided by the magistrates. The story of theprevious interview with Councillor Mindiggle could be deferred to amore convenient season.
"She doesn't look like a snappy cur," remarked the skipper.
"Nor is she, sir," Fordyce hastened to assert. "Something must haveirritated her."
"So you smuggled her abroad?"
The Sub denied the impeachment.
"For the life of me I cannot imagine how she came aboard, sir," hedeclared. "It was a great surprise to me to find her below. I wasquite under the impression that she was twenty miles from Otherport."
"She is--and more," remarked Stockdale, with a laugh. "Very well,Fordyce; such devotion ought to be appreciated. Look after her, andkeep her out of mischief: the mascot of submarine R19."
The interview ended, the Sub took his pet for'ard to be "adopted" bythe ship's company. Evidently safe in the knowledge that her mastercould not now desert her, Flirt went willingly with half a dozenbluejackets to be fed, groomed, and to make the acquaintance of hernew messmates.
"She seems to take to you, Cassidy," remarked the Sub, addressing abull-necked able-seaman.
"Yes, sir," replied the man, saluting. "We've met afore, ain't us,doggie?"
"In what circumstances?" asked Fordyce.
"Well, sir," replied the man, "seein' an 'ow Cap'n Stockdale don'tobject, I'll make a clean breast of it. It was yesterday mornin',when we were drawin' stores in the dockyard, that I spots the dogsniffin' round the steps. Comes up to me friendly-like, as if sheknowed I belonged to this 'ere craft. Then I looks at 'er collar andsees your name. 'Bless me, Smiler,' I says to my raggie, 'if thisain't Mr. Fordyce's dog, same as took a chunk outer that cove's legt'other day.' 'Mr. Fordyce, he's aboard,' said Smiler. ''Ow about it?Let's give the dog a passage.' She nips into the boat and under thestern-sheets in a brace o' shakes. When we got alongside, out she'ops and goes straight below, while you an' Mr. Macquare was spinnin'a yarn."
"Then why didn't you report to me?" asked Fordyce.
"Seein' as 'ow the dog didn't want to report 'erself, we thought as'ow we'd let you have a little surprise, sir," explained Cassidy."You see, she might a' been sent ashore."
Steadily R19 forged ahead, her course regularly checked by frequentobservations on the sextant, and "picked out" on the chart. Adeviation of a few miles would bring the submarine into the Britishmine-fields. Provided she kept to the trackless path, as announced bythe Admiralty, she had nothing to fear from these; it was thesinister drifting mines sown by the Huns with a reckless disregard ofthe rights of neutrals and the vaunted "Freedom of the Seas" whereinlay the danger. In addition, it was always possible that a lurkingU-boat might be within striking distance, for the old theory that"dog will not eat dog", i.e. one submarine is unable to attackanother, had long since exploded. Overhead, too, a hostile seaplane,soaring at an immense height, might swoop down and attempt to destroythe craft by means of powerful bombs; and the danger, although remotein this part of the North Sea, could not be lost sight of.
Nevertheless R19 still ran awash. Until she was within easy distanceof hostile territorial waters it was policy to do so, since a Britishseaplane would find it difficult to distinguish friend from foeshould she spot the ill-defined shape of a submerged craft creepingblindly through the water at a depth of from fifty to a hundred feet.
"Submarine on the port bow, sir," reported the look-out.
The order for "General Quarters" rang out. Telescopes and binocularswere brought to bear upon the triangular-shaped grey object, cleavingthe waves at a distance of nearly three miles, while the fourquick-firers were promptly raised from their places of concealmentand manned to open fire at the first word of command.
The old couplet:
"Twice armed is he who has his quarrel just, Thrice armed is he who gets his blow home fust",
is essentially applicable in modern naval warfare when single-shipactions take place at comparatively short range. The days ofcourteous exchange of compliments between doughty antagonists beforeopening fire are past. The first shot may decide, and frequently hasdecided, the contest.
Therein, especially during night encounters between destroyers in theStraits of Dover and off the Belgian coast, the Huns held animportant advantage. Every vessel afloat was to them an enemy craft,while the British had to withhold their fire until they made certainthat they were not attacking a friendly or neutral ship.
"She's flying the White Ensign!" exclaimed Macquare. "By Jove, she'sbeen at it!"
The approaching submarine turned out to be one of the E Classreturning from observation patrol. She was showing a considerableamount of freeboard. Most of her water-ballast had been started. Justabaft her conning-tower, on the port side, a tarpaulin and a "thrummat" had been lashed over a rent extending from just above herwater-line to half-way across her curved deck. Pumps were steadilyejecting water--a circumstance that told of strained plates andshattered rivets. Of her twin periscopes, one had been shorn offclose to the top of the conning-tower; the other, bent at an acuteangle, trailed drunkenly over the side.
Dive she could not, unless once and for all time. Only by running onthe surface and keeping the leaks under control could she hope tomake port. With her ensign proudly displayed, and most of herofficers and crew drawn up on her narrow deck, she held on hercourse, the passing submarines saluting each other according to thehonourable and long-standing custom of the seas.
The Hon. Derek Stockdale raised a megaphone to his lips.
"Been strafed?" he enquired laconically.
"Aye, aye," was the reply, shouted in clear, decisive tones."Scrapped with a Zepp., crocked her, and then took on a U-boat. Shewon't trouble you, but keep your weather eye lifting for Zepps.S'long and good luck!"
Ten minutes later the E Something was out of sight. Her cruise hadbeen honourably accomplished. She was bound for home and awell-earned rest. R19's had just begun, and already the prospect ofimminent excitement was in store. Dark, rugged clouds, scuddingrapidly in the upper air, betokened a gale as surely as did thesteadily-falling mercury of the barometer. With luck R19 ought tooverhaul the crippled Zepp. as she strove to battle her way againstthe rising storm.