CHAPTER XVII
Hit
With the tips of her periscopes just showing above the surface, R19stealthily approached her prey. Every water-tight door was closed,even the hatch between the conning-tower and the centre compartment.Within the confined space of the conning-tower stood the Hon. Derek,Fordyce, and Petty Officer Chalmers, whose duty it was to transmitthe Lieutenant-Commander's orders by means of voice-tubes, andtelegraph to the torpedo-hands, engine-room artificers, and menstationed at the auxiliary ballast-tanks.
The hail and spray beating upon the glass lenses of the periscopesblurred and distorted the images in the object-bowls. There was notime for the globules of moisture to fall clear of the prepared glassbefore others took their place. Fumes of so-called smokeless powder,too, were drifting sluggishly to leeward, beaten down by the heavyfall of rain. In the circumstances, it made the chances of theslender periscopes being seen very remote, while, on the other hand,although not to the same extent, the submarine's intended victimswere obscured by the misty conditions.
Twice R19 dived deeply as groups of torpedo-boats tore athwart hertrack, ignorant of the presence of the formidable British submarine.
Then, cautiously and deliberately rising towards the surface, R19again exposed her periscopes.
"Thanks be!" ejaculated the Hon. Derek, as, a couple of points on thestarboard bow, loomed up the towering outlines of one of Germany'smost recent battleships.
A slight touch of the helm and the submarine turned until herbow-tubes pointed dead on the stem of her prey. At the rate thebattleship was moving she would be struck amidships by the time thetwo torpedoes covered the intervening space.
"Fire!"
Down in the bow compartment the alert L.T.O.'s depressed thefiring-levers of the two 21-inch tubes. A faint hiss as thecompressed-air propulsive charges expelled the steel cylinders, andthe gurgling sound of inrushing water, to compensate the weight ofthe missiles, alone announced to the cool and determined men thattheir part of the immediate business was completed. Whether it was tobe "hit or miss" they were not to know at present. It depended uponthe skill of their daring skipper.
Stockdale took his chance with fate. The moment he made certain, bythe air-bubbles in the wake of the locomotive weapons, that thetorpedoes were speeding towards their mark he dived. So far so good;but sheer curiosity prompted him to bring the submarine towards thesurface until her periscopes were exposed. True, he ran severalhundred yards under water before he did so.
In the midst of a terrific cannonade the roar of the double explosionwas indistinguishable to the crew of R19. All they could hear was aconstant rumble. They were attacking under novel conditions as far asthey were concerned. It was not a case of lying in wait for a passinghostile craft. Shells were flying in all directions, torpedo-boats,on the look-out for submarines, were in attendance upon the largervessels. Whether some of the shells were being fired with theintention of "doing in" the daring British craft none of her crewwould know until the submarine received a hit.
As the light grew brighter on the object-bowl of the conning-towerperiscope, both officers gave vent to a satisfied grunt. Eighthundred yards away the German battleship was settling by the sternwith a terrific list to starboard. Smoke and steam were pouring fromher three funnels, her decks were thick with humanity, while alreadymany of the crew were scrambling down the sloping sides of thelisting hull. Destroyers were making for the sinking ship to pick upthe survivors, while others were maintaining a hot fire upon atotally imaginary periscope a full half mile from those of R19.
Realizing that it was decidedly "unhealthy" to prolong thesatisfactory observation, the Hon. Derek gave orders to dive to 90feet. In the turmoil of agitated water the submarine would be safefrom the inquisitive attentions of Zeppelins and other Germanair-craft.
Before the raised periscopes could dip beneath the waves a dull crashsounded almost immediately above the head of the Lieutenant-Commanderand the Duty Sub in the conning-tower. Simultaneously the vision inthe object-bowl vanished and the electric lamps were shattered intoframents.
"They've bagged us this time," thought Fordyce, but, restraining aninclination to shout a cry of alarm, he compressed his lips firmlyand awaited the end. In the pitch-dark blackness, momentarilyexpecting to be overwhelmed by the inrush of water, he stood rigidlyprepared to face the Unknown like a true British seaman.
"Ask them how the manometer stands, Chalmers," ordered the Hon.Derek. There was not the faintest tremor in his clear, modulatedwords.
"Ninety feet and still descending, sir," reported the petty officer.
"Good enough; keep her at that, Mr. Fordyce, if you can."
It was easier said than done. To control the diving-planes solely bythe sense of touch was a difficult task to carry out in the Cimmeriandarkness of the conning-tower.
"The sooner we get a light on the scene the better," continued theLieutenant-Commander. "Get each compartment to report, Chalmers. Askif any damage has been sustained."
Again the reply was satisfactory. Beyond a slight leak in the'midship compartment--it was right over Fordyce's bunk he afterwardsdiscovered--the hull of the submarine was as tight as the proverbialbottle.
Stockdale hesitated no longer. The cover-plate in the floor of theconning-tower was thrown open, and once more the confined space wasflooded with light as the upcast rays from the centre compartmentwere thrown through the circular opening.
"Keep her as she is, Mr. Fordyce," he ordered. "We can carry on a bitwithout barging into anything other than a foundering Hun. Wonderwhere they strafed us?"
Quickly an electrician fitted new lamps to the holders in theconning-tower. The leads were intact. It was merely the suddenconcussion that had shattered the glass bulbs. A steady tricklethrough the glands of the revolving periscope-shaft at the spot whereit passes through the dome of the conning-tower gave definiteevidence that R19 was no longer capable of vision. The hostile shellthat had all but cracked the massive steel plating had knocked bothperiscopes out of action.
For twenty minutes the submarine ran at an average depth of 90 feet,until, for fear of getting into shoal water, her Lieutenant-Commanderallowed her to rest upon the bottom. Judging by the manner in whichshe grounded, the submarine was resting on soft mud, and, since therewas a fairly strong current setting past, the sediment made anefficient camouflage against the prying eyes of the Huns' aerialscouts.
The water-tight doors were opened and the Hon. Derek made a tour ofhis ship. Already the news of the destruction of one of the Germanbattleships had spread. Steel bulkheads were not proof against thetransmission of the glad tidings.
In the torpedo-room the men were singing. The Lieutenant-Commanderpaused and listened to the refrain. A smile played over his face ashe caught the words, sung to an old music-hall favourite air:
"I don't care what becomes of me, S' long as a Hun's at the bottom of the sea".
The interior of Fordyce's cabin presented a scene of desolation.Overhead, the leak had been plugged by means of a steel disk facedwith india-rubber. Until it could be secured by means of bolts andwashers--a job only capable of being undertaken when the submarinewas running on the surface--the plug was shored up by a couple ofstout spars, held by an elaborate contraption of wedges and wire"racking". While the submarine was deep down, and before thetemporary repairs had been effected, the water had gushed throughwith considerable force notwithstanding the smallness of the jet. Ithad made a clean sweep of the Sub's _lares_ and _penates_--thoselittle nicknacks and photographs with which his otherwise Spartancabin was adorned. Bedding, spare clothing, and nautical instrumentswere lying in sodden confusion upon the floor; for, although thewater had been expelled by means of force-pumps, the damage had beendone before any steps could be taken to prevent it.
"Looks like Christmas Eve ashore, and the water-pipes burst, sir,"remarked Fordyce, as his skipper offered his condolences. "It mightbe worse, and I can sleep on the ward-room settee."
"And don't hesitate to use any of
my gear," added the practicallysympathetic Lieutenant-Commander. "Hallo! What's the latest racket?"
He might well ask, for with a dull thud something landed heavily uponthe submarine's deck with a force sufficient to make the vessel rollsluggishly in her muddy berth.
A Sub and a Submarine: The Story of H.M. Submarine R19 in the Great War Page 17
