A Sub and a Submarine: The Story of H.M. Submarine R19 in the Great War
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CHAPTER VIII
"Accidents will Happen"
Grey dawn was breaking when submarine R19 approached the waters ofthe Skager-rack. Well on their port bow could be faintly discernedthe rugged cliffs of Norway, but it was yet too hazy to sight thelow-lying shores of Jutland. The strong wind had blown itself out,and although the waves still ran high they had lost their angry look.It was possible to stand on deck without having to hang on like grimdeath, as the water surged waist-high over the comparativelylow-lying structure.
Scorning to take advantage of the doubtful security afforded by the"three-mile limit", R19 kept a mid-channel course, prepared to divethe instant a suspicious craft was sighted. She was to keep awash asfar as practicable, in order to economize her electrical propulsivepowers. As yet not a single craft had been sighted. The once-crowdedwaterway, from whence vessels laden with timber and iron-ore forGreat Britain issued in the piping times of peace, was deserted. Thehardy mariners of Norway still kept the sea, their fearful losses inshipping notwithstanding, but they took a different route; while themercantile flag of Sweden had practically disappeared from the NorthSea and its approaches.
Clad in oilskins, Donald Macquare and Noel Fordyce stood on thenavigation-platform. At the Sub's feet crouched Flirt. The dog,having completely recovered her "sea-legs", was sniffing eagerly atthe offshore breeze, as if sighing for the land that was denied her.From the electric stove in the galley wafted the appetizing odours offrying bacon, to mingle with the salt-laden air.
"It looks like a dirty sky to windward," observed the Lieutenant, ashe lowered his binoculars and rubbed his eyes. It was nearing the endof his "trick", and he was longing for his watch below. "It will be ajolly good thing for us, if it doesn't get too thick. Bless my soul,these neutrals may be quite all right as a whole, but goodness onlyknows when there isn't a pro-Hun ashore armed with a powerfultelescope."
"In which case the news will be telegraphed to Kiel," added Fordyce."Hang it all, I never could understand how these fellows get the hangof things!"
He was on the point of confiding to the Lieutenant the information ofR19's date of departure and destination, as told by CouncillorMindiggle, when the look-out reported a sail dead ahead.
The craft was a tramp, deep in ballast. At a distance of four milesshe stood out distinctly against the approaching cloud of misty rain,until the pall of vapour swept down and hid her from sight.
"It will be as thick as pea-soup directly," declared Macquare. "Noneed to call the skipper. I'll alter helm and give yonder vessel achance to slip clear of us."
Accordingly R19's course was altered a few points to port, which,allowing for the relative speed of the two vessels, ought to allowample margin for the submarine to pass at least two miles from thetramp.
Presently Flirt began to bark violently at some invisible object onthe starboard hand. Macquare made a gesture of reproof, and the Sub,placing his hand on the dog's muzzle, lifted him into theconning-tower.
"It's that tramp's screw she heard," he remarked, as he rejoined theLieutenant. "Sounds quite close."
"By Jove, yes!" exclaimed Macquare. "We'd best get under."
Even as he spoke, a rift in the mist revealed the tramp at less thana cable's length away. She had changed her course as a matter ofprecaution, zigzagging in order to baffle any U-boats that might belurking in the vicinity. By so doing she was now passing through thewake of R19.
"British, by Jove!" exclaimed Fordyce, catching sight of a dirtysmoke-begrimed red ensign floating proudly from the tramp's ensignstaff, while, as she slid past, he could read the words_Talisman--Goole_ on her stumpy stern.
Even as he spoke, the mist was stabbed by a lurid flash, and a shell,screeching through the air, passed so close to the Sub's head that hedistinctly felt the windage.
It was not a time to offer protests and explanations. Before thetramp could let fly a second time, Fordyce had gained theconning-tower. The water-tight lid was promptly shut and secured,and, with more haste than grace, R19 dived for safety with themuffled reverberations of a second report to cheer her on her way.
Through the trap-door in the floor of the conning-tower appeared theHon. Derek, just awakened out of sleep yet perfectly cool andcollected.
"A pretty kettle of fish, sir," reported Mr. Macquare in answer to hissuperior officer's question. "A British tramp, the _Talisman_, didher level best to blow us to blazes. Let rip at point-blank range."
"And missed," added the Lieutenant-Commander cheerfully. "Bless herdear skipper's heart, although his gun-layer's a rotten bad shot he'sa tough old British heart of oak. Accidents will happen, Macquare, inthe best-regulated families."
"Rough luck if we'd been sent to Davy Jones by one of our own people,sir," said the Lieutenant doggedly.
"A miss is as good as a mile," rejoined the Hon. Derek soothingly. "Isuppose the old man is dancing about on the bridge, wild with delightat having sent a strafed U-boat to the bottom. When we return,Macquare, we must look out for the name of the skipper of the_Talisman_ on the Honours List of the Mercantile Marine, though notfor worlds would I disillusion the gallant old boy. By smoke! He'spottering around to pick up the pieces."
The thud of the tramp's propeller clearly indicated that such was theintention of the _Talisman's_ skipper. It was an audacious, almostfoolhardy piece of work. The tramp, unescorted and of comparativelyslow speed, had eased down and was circling over the spot where thesupposed U-boat was last seen.
"I'll humour the old chap," resumed the Lieutenant-Commander. "Mr.Fordyce, pass the word for the oil in the sump to be pumped out.That'll please him when he finds the oil floating on the surface--butnot a word, mind, to the men. It's our little joke."
It was not until the beating of the tramp's propellers had long fadedinto inaudibility that R19 poked her periscope above the surface. Thefog had cleared considerably, although the air was still misty. Asfar as the field of vision showed all was quiet. Up came thesubmarine, the electric motors were switched off and the petrolengines clutched into the propeller shafts. Hatches were opened andsteps taken to "con" the vessel from the navigation-platform.
A swirl in the water on the starboard hand attracted the Sub's noticeas he gained the open air. Something was converging upon the vessel'sside. Instinctively he glanced towards the bows. His supposition wascorrect. In rising, the submarine had fouled the wire span connectinga pair of drifting mines. On either hand a deadly metal cylinder wasbeing swung in towards the vessel's hull.
There was no time for official decorum. With a bound Noel threwhimself upon the engine-room telegraph indicator and signalled fullspeed astern.
Thank Heaven, the order was obeyed promptly, even at the risk ofsnapping the blades, wrecking the stuffing-box, or smashing theclutches. With the water hissing and foaming past her sides under thereverse action of her powerful propeller, the submarine quickly lostway and began to gather sternway.
"Stop! Easy astern!"
Both orders were as quickly carried out as before. By this time thetwo mines were bearing on the bows at a distance of less than fiftyyards away, and were gradually being drawn towards each other. Soexactly midway had R19 struck the span that, unless steps were takento prevent them, the metal cylinders would collide with each otherand explode within a few seconds of the fragile horns being snappedunder the impact. And at fifty yards the detonation of that doublequantity of T.N.T. would be sufficient to severely damage, if notdestroy, the submarine.
Again Fordyce signalled "Stop", then called for volunteers to clearthe fouled wire. There was no need to ask twice. From below pouredhands armed with hack-saws, cold chisels, and axes.
The rope--a 2-inch flexible-steel-wire one--was badly rusted,nevertheless it took the bluejackets the best part of five minutes tosever it and disentangle the newly-cut ends.
"All clear, sir," sang out a petty officer.
With feelings of thankfulness Fordyce put the indicator to half speedastern. Gathering way, R19 slowly backed from the floating cylindersunt
il she was safely out of that danger zone.
"Well done, Mr. Fordyce!"
The Sub turned, flushed with pleasure, and smartly saluted. It wasthe Hon. Derek who had spoken. Throughout the hazardous operation hehad stood quietly behind his young subordinate, ready to take chargeif necessity should arise. But there had been no need, and Stockdalewas too shrewd a man to "barge in" and flabbergast his youthful Sub.
"Mine right astern, sir!" shouted a seaman.
"And to starboard, sir!" announced another.
R19, in backing from one danger, found herself beset by floatingperils on all sides.