by Shaun Lewis
Tate looked as if he was going to choke at the idea. Oh, no, she’s gone too far this time, Marshall thought, but was relieved to see that the neck flush had receded below the level of the jaw.
‘Have no fear. The suffragettes are old news now and no threat to you and the Establishment. Have you not heard of the cessation of hostilities for the duration of the war?’
Elizabeth smiled sweetly and Marshall noted that she had moderated her tone, as if addressing a child.
‘You see, Admiral, we woman are on your side. In any case, rest assured that my chief architect and the fitters remain male. We might have a female managing director, but we still confine our women employees to typing tasks and making the tea. Although, am I right, Mr Marshall, that we have recently engaged some women as delivery drivers to replace men sent to the front?’
Marshall remained silent. His whole attention was fixed on Elizabeth’s red neck.
‘Mark?’ Elizabeth glared at Marshall and he was stirred into speech.
‘That’s true, ma’am. I believe there are now six women in the driver pool and there’s talk of a couple of women being trained to man the gantries, but all the fitters, plumbers, electricians and boiler makers are still men. They’re all in reserved occupations.’
‘Well, that’s something at least,’ Tate responded in a relieved tone. ‘What’s your view, Keyes? You’re the one that has to operate the damned things.’
‘Frankly, sir, I don’t care if they’re built by Martians, if we can have them quickly. I say give Miller’s a chance.’
Tate looked at Edwards for his opinion and received a silent nod in response. ‘Very well, Miss Miller. I’m happy to agree to your proposal, but I have some conditions as follows. The order will be for three hulls initially, and only if they are produced to time, specification and budget, will the order for the second tranche of three go ahead. Is that acceptable?’
‘Perfectly.’ Elizabeth betrayed no emotion in her visage as she agreed to the condition, but Marshall had to strangle a howl of glee and covered his astonishment with a fit of coughing.
‘The contingency budget that you propose must be reduced to fifteen per cent of the agreed cost of each hull.’ Tate smiled for the first time in the meeting as if he was master of the situation and dictating terms. Marshall, however, was amazed that the Controller had agreed to any contingency without the usual paperwork. The Admiralty must be desperate, he thought. He and Elizabeth had hoped to agree on a figure of ten per cent.
‘Finally, you will appreciate that the nation must pull together to vanquish the foe and we must all subordinate our individual needs for the common good. I am sure that with a brother and cousin making their own contribution to the war effort you will agree with me, madam.’
Marshall could see that Elizabeth was wondering what was coming next, but she continued to smile sweetly at Tate.
‘To that end, Miss Miller, I must insist that your revised designs are made available to other yards that the Admiralty might engage to build these E-boats. If your design is as good as you make it out to be, then surely it is in the interests of the country that all yards should decrease their build time.’
Marshall thought he detected a slight tremor in Elizabeth, as if her heart had missed a couple of beats, but he couldn’t be sure. She just stared silently at Tate. Marshall could see the sense in the idea, but there was no knowing with Elizabeth. Surely she would accept the condition, he thought. After all, she had at least secured an order for six hulls and that was more than she had hoped to gain from the meeting.
The tension in the room began to mount and after, perhaps, a minute of silence, Elizabeth released Tate from her gaze and looked deeply into the eyes of Edwards and Keyes in turn. Marshall willed her to look at him so that he might silently appeal to her to accept the deal, but she did not offer him a glance before replying coolly.
‘Naturally, Miller’s Yard stands ready to support the war effort in whichever way it can. I am, therefore, willing to comply with your conditions in exchange for two of my own. Firstly, you increase the order to eight submarines, in two tranches of four. Finally, you pay my yard the same price per hull you agree with any other competing yard. Do we have a deal?’
Marshall did not dare breathe. The only sound in the room was that of his pulse beating in his head. Just as he thought he must faint from the unbearable tension, he saw Elizabeth smile and extend her hand to Tate in anticipation of his assent. He first looked sideways to his naval colleagues for agreement, before taking the proffered hand and shaking it. ‘Madam, you strike a hard bargain, but it is one I am willing to accept. I will leave you and the contracts managers to sort out the fine detail of the contract and bid you good day.’
Captain Edwards offered to escort Elizabeth and Marshall to the entrance to the Admiralty. He warmly congratulated her on the negotiation before she and Marshall exited the building to cross the courtyard towards Whitehall. As they passed under Admiralty Arch, Elizabeth turned to Marshall.
‘You’re not happy, are you, Mark?’
‘It’s not that I’m unhappy, ma’am. More that I worry how we are to cope. We went into that meeting with the hope of securing an order for three submarines. Now we have a potential order for eight. Why did you do it, ma’am, and just where are we to obtain the manpower?
‘I would have thought that was obvious, Mark. That supercilious oaf made me angry, but as my dear father said, “Don’t get angry, get even.” As far as labour is concerned, think of the great untapped pool of manpower on your doorstep.’
Marshall looked puzzled. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t catch your meaning.’
‘Womanpower, Mark. Womanpower.’
Chapter 20
The sound of the two explosions reverberated throughout the submarine, but E9 was already too deep and far way for them to bother her. Richard settled the submarine on a depth of sixty feet and reduced speed to two knots. He needed time to think before committing the submarine to action.
The natural thing to do would be to wait around until the Zeppelin returned to base. He could then surface and recover Steele. The problem was that this would be exactly what the Zeppelin pilot would be expecting. Richard knew enough about airships to know that they had the endurance to remain on task for several hours. In all probability, the Zeppelin could wait above until dusk. He also knew that from altitude it was not difficult for a vigilant lookout to spot a submarine on the surface, even when trimmed down. On a calm day, even the feather of a periscope would stick out like a sore thumb, so he had to be wary of returning to periscope depth.
He considered his options if he continued his passage to the Baltic without Steele, but dismissed them. Steele’s best hope would be for the Zeppelin to alert the German surface forces to capture both him and the seaplane, and this would condemn him to internment as a prisoner of war. Alternatively, Steele would die of thirst or drowning. Moreover, it would give him two other problems. He would be short handed in forcing a passage into the Baltic and what was he to do with two unwanted passengers?
He checked the control room clock and mentally calculated that he had about two hours of full daylight left. With the current sea state, he might be able to risk raising a periscope to observe the Zeppelin’s movements. Somehow he also had to maintain contact with the seaplane. Although he could account for the tidal stream, he had no idea how far the wind would push the seaplane on the surface. He resolved to loiter in his current position for an hour before raising the periscope. With any luck the captain of the Zeppelin might think he had sunk E9.
Adams interrupted his thoughts.
‘Excuse me, Captain, but have you given any thought as to how we might get Childers and his photographic plates back to our ship?’
‘I hadn’t actually. I’m more concerned with rescuing my second-in-command at present. It’s strange that two hours ago your main concern was rescuing your machine and now it’s getting home.’
‘I say, that’s a trifle unfa
ir. I’m not concerned for myself. Machines are precious, but they can be replaced. One could say that of pilots for that matter. But those plates and Childers’s knowledge are priceless. It’s vital that they make it back to the Admiralty. I promise you that many lives are at stake.’
‘Adams, let us understand each other fully. My mission is also vital and the lives of my men precious, too. My first priority is rescuing my First Lieutenant. I cannot then afford the time to return to England.’
‘But not long ago, you were all for meeting up with the Engadine or one of her escorts. What has changed?’
‘Lost time. That has changed things. Have you thought how difficult it is for a submarine to approach surface forces without being shelled, rammed or bombed? You must know how difficult it is to tell friend from foe when it comes to submarines, so again you will know that all naval forces are under orders to sink any unidentified submarine on sight. Accordingly, I am under orders to avoid chance meetings with friendly forces at all costs. In fact, there are no forces friendly to submarines. Now, assuming I am able to rescue my First Lieutenant, I would be approaching an escort destroyer at night.’
‘Could you not use your wireless set to send them a message?’
‘What? And alert the German Navy to our position? They use direction-finding stations, too.’
Adams seemed to have no response to the last statement and it took him a few minutes of reflection before he replied in a low voice. ‘Is there somewhere private I could discuss this with you further?’
Richard could see the hydroplanesmen smiling to themselves at this question, but he refrained from laughing. ‘I regret, dear Adams, that there is not even six inches square that is private in a submarine. I worry that what I say in my sleep will be known to the entire ship’s company before I wake.’
Adams took Richard gently by the forearm and whispered pleadingly, ‘It really is important. What I have to say is most secret.’
Richard could see the whole control room crew were now listening even more intently. ‘Fine. There is a way. Come with me, but it had better be important.’
Adams followed Richard into the torpedo compartment. Richard spoke quietly to the TI and, although he seemed surprised by the request, the petty officer nonetheless started clearing the compartment of men, including those off watch and asleep on top of the spare torpedoes. The latter quit the space with much murmuring and grumbling, but no argument. Richard shut and clipped the watertight door linking the fore-ends to the rest of the submarine.
‘Right, Adams. Let’s hear it, quickly. My men need their sleep.’
‘Very well, Miller. Those Zeppelins are becoming a menace. There’s one based on the island of Borkum that regularly reports on the positions of the mines we have laid to impose the blockade on Germany. Within a day, the German minesweepers are out clearing the minefields as quickly as we lay them. The Zeppelins are also shadowing the Fleet and reporting back its position and manoeuvres.’
‘They’re none too welcome by submariners either, Adams, but get to the point.’
‘I was about to,’ Adams replied tersely. ‘Intelligence has been received to suggest that the Germans are planning to use their airships to mount bombing raids on the civilian population of London and other English cities. You can imagine the panic that would cause. The RFC is tied down in France so Churchill has volunteered the RNAS to deal with the menace.’
‘So just shoot them down. Their size must make them sitting targets.’
‘Don’t believe we haven’t tried. The trouble is that they fly higher and faster than any of our current generation of machines. As soon as our chaps approach anywhere near the height required to make a kill, the crew order another pot of coffee, wave us goodbye and rapidly gain another couple of thousands of feet in altitude.’
‘So you have a plan and this reconnaissance of yours is related to it, I suppose.’
‘Quite. The RNAS has been ordered to switch its focus from tactical support of the Army in France to strategic bombing. As well as the railways, our targets will now include the sheds where the Zeppelins are manufactured. If we can’t get them in the air, we’ll stop them being launched. The RNAS is planning a series of raids from our bases in France, but we don’t have the range to hit the sheds in Cuxhaven. The Air Department and the Intelligence Division have accordingly come up with a daring plan, but it is most secret.’
‘Adams, neither I nor my men are hardly in a position to leak anything from the confines of a submarine at sea.’
‘True, but the operation is not planned to take place for six to eight weeks. The plan is that we use ships to launch seaplanes from nearer the Frisian coastline to bomb the Zeppelin sheds at Cuxhaven. Childers knows the coast well and has been seconded to assist with planning the raid.’
‘My word. That is a daring plan, Adams. I wish you well with it.’
‘Nothing like this has ever been done before. Imagine if it succeeds. It could be the start of a series of raids against Germany from the sea. But we need those photographic plates. And there’s something else you should know. The plans for the operation have been signed off jointly by the Directors of the Air Department and Intelligence Division, namely Commodore Sueter and your father.’
*
Feeling cold and cramped, Steele eased himself out of the cockpit of the seaplane and climbed down to one of the floats for the exercise. The sea remained slight and he estimated the wind speed to be no more than ten knots, but it was enough to drive the aircraft before it like a sail. Any hope he had of being rescued by a German destroyer was quickly evaporating. He must be many miles from the position the Zeppelin would have reported.
The airship had loitered within sight of the seaplane for about an hour before heading eastwards for home. Steele suspected that the Zeppelin captain was either low on fuel or wanted his dinner and a warm bed for the night. There had been no sign of E9 and Steele surmised that she was either sunk or he had been abandoned to his fate alone. Awful as his situation was, he hoped it was the latter. He had started to feel at home in E9 and liked her captain and men.
He pondered whether he might have worked faster in removing the aircraft’s camera and setting the charges? Had he done so, Miller might have dived before the arrival on scene of the Zeppelin. Steele began to wonder if his grandfather had been wrong in using his influence to gain him this appointment after a two year absence from submarines. He was rusty and taking too long to come up to the demanding standards of service in submarines. He was surprised that Miller had been so patient. To his certain knowledge he had made two mistakes so far. Miscalculating the trim on diving after Harwich was, perhaps, forgivable. He knew of many new First Lieutenants guilty of the same crime. But failing to wipe the upper lid before shutting and clipping it on diving was a schoolboy’s mistake. As the submarine’s fin had passed beneath the water line, a torrent of water had flooded the control room. Steele recalled the captain’s patient question in the earshot of the whole ship’s company, ‘Did you wipe the rim before coming down, Number One? No? Then take her back to the surface and we’ll try again.’ After surfacing, Steele had found a tiny flake of paint on the hatch rim and this alone had been responsible for preventing the hatch from sealing properly. Even the most junior of the ship’s company must have thought the new Jimmy an idiot.
Steele now wished he smoked. It would give him something to do. Yet again he surveyed the horizon with his glasses. To the west he could make out the reddish glow of the autumn sun setting. It was too cloudy to see the sun itself, but its presence was evident. Once more he looked south-east in the hope of seeing the approach of a ship, but again in vain. He continued his anti-clockwise sweep and something caught his attention to the east. He focused in that direction, but saw nothing. Was it his imagination, he thought, and then he saw it again. It was like the flash of a heliograph and then it was gone. Whatever it was, it had to be man-made. He tried looking again without the binoculars, but for a moment nothing caught his attent
ion. Then suddenly, less than a mile away, he saw the sea starting to boil and from its midst, a dark shape appear. It was no monster from the deep. It was E9 come back to rescue him.
Within a minute, he saw a figure appear on the bridge and men on the casing. He quickly appreciated that the men on the casing would be assembling the inflatable coracle with the intention of floating it down to him, but time was short. This would take several minutes and the sun was already setting. He had to move quickly. He shouted across to E9. It was too far away in this light to identify who was on the bridge, but it had to be Miller. His shout was acknowledged, but he could not make out the words. Steele set the fuse on the float charges. The tail could take care of itself. He had ten minutes, time enough, he thought, and removed his boots and jacket before diving into the sea.
It was a hard swim as he was heading into the sea. The CO had positioned the submarine upwind of the seaplane so that he might drift down onto it. This would cut the distance, Steele thought. Thank God, I’m still fit. It’s only eight hundred yards. With powerful, easy strokes he carved his way through the water. He was still half way when he saw the flash around him, quickly followed by the noise of the explosion as the charges on the seaplane went off. In the flash of the explosion he could see that E9 had drifted a little to his right and he adjusted his course accordingly. The saltwater started to sting his eyes, but he carried on. Stroke, stroke, breathe - stroke, stroke, breathe. Now he began to feel cold, but he still felt fit. He would make it and he would make up for his mistakes. Stroke, breathe - stroke, breathe. Looking up, he could see it was not far to the dark hull of E9. She looks awfully large from this angle, he thought. He also noted that a ladder had been slung over the casing for him.
At long last he touched the beautifully-cold, solid metal of E9’s hull and crabbed across to the ladder. He had done it. All he had to do now was climb the ladder, but perhaps he wasn’t so fit after all. He felt incredibly cold and tired. He thought he might float a little and rest awhile. It seemed such a long way up the side of the casing. Oh, hang on a minute. Somebody was ripping his shirt by the neck. Somebody was in the water beside him and trying to grab him. Unhand me, sir. This is my pool. What is the rude fellow doing? He felt a tug beneath his armpits, and another. Slowly, he realised that he was being hauled up the casing on the end of a line.
