The Thick of the Fray at Zeebrugge, April 1918

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER XVII

  "Good Old 'Vindictive'!"

  "Clear lower deck, supernumeraries fall-in on the quarter deck."

  To the accompaniment of the bo's'un's mates' pipes the order given inhoarse, strident tones, was repeated in various parts of the ship.

  The _Vindictive_, with 200 tons of cement in her after-magazines andin the upper bunkers on both sides, was lying in Dunkirk Roads incompany with the _Sappho_, which had been hurriedly fitted out atshort notice to act as an additional block-ship in the operationsagainst Ostend.

  Two men clad in bluejackets' working rig heard the order not withoutemotion. The instinct to obey--the result of three years' serviceunder the White Ensign--was strong; but resisting the impulse the tworemained "as you were", sheltering from observation in a corner of adisused flat abaft the after-magazine.

  Clearing out the supernumeraries--men embarked to assist in thenavigation of the _Vindictive_ across Channel--was a slow process.Again and again alert, lynx-eyed petty officers scoured the ship tomake certain that the additional hands had fallen in. More than oncethe flat in which the disguised Seton and Branscombe were concealedwas inspected, but no one thought to pay particular attention to aheap of empty cement sacks that camouflaged the determined stowaways.After half an hour of suspense, they felt secure.

  "They're gone," whispered Seton, taking a pull at a water-bottle andpassing it on to his companion. "Stuffy show, isn't it? Good thing weprovided ourselves with biscuits and water."

  "Hope to goodness the stunt won't be declared off," remarkedBranscombe. "Let's see; we're due to arrive off the Stroom Bank at 2a.m. That means that we've got to lie low for another four hours. Itwouldn't be safe for us to show up before 1.30 at the earliest."

  "No one will notice us if we hang about the main deck," objectedSeton. "I don't want to miss any of the fun. Besides, as soon as theship's under way, they wouldn't slow down to send us ashore."

  The somewhat erratic pulsations of the _Vindictive's_ engines--forsince the Zeebrugge operations, when her propellers got foul of theMole, the hard-worked machinery was far from perfect--announced thatthe venerable and historic cruiser was leaving the Roadstead, and thetwo chums left their place of concealment and made their way to thestarboard battery on the main deck.

  Not a light was shown on board. In the darkness they wereunrecognized as strangers, and boldly mingling with others of thedepleted crew they had the satisfaction of finding that theircarefully laid plan was being carried out without a hitch.

  "What's wrong with the old _Sappho_?" inquired a seaman, who waslooking out of the gun port. "She's dropping astern."

  "Something wrong with her," agreed his "raggie". "Hope that won't puta stopper on this little jaunt."

  As a matter of fact it very nearly did. The _Sappho_ had hardlycleared the anchorage when a man-hole joint in the side of herboilers blew out, instantly reducing her speed to six knots.

  "It's all right, mates," announced a petty officer, who was makinghis way aft through the battery. "The Admiral has just signalled. Weare to carry on without the _Sappho_."

  "The ball's opened," exclaimed several voices, when at 1.43 a.m. thesound of a furious cannonade was borne to the ears of the_Vindictive's_ company.

  Unlike previous operations there was in this no preliminarybombardment. For several nights past Ostend had been left severelyalone by our monitors and bombing planes. This had the result oflulling Fritz into a state of false security, and in consequence thetook-outs were taking things easy.

  But now, at a pre-arranged signal, hell was let loose over Ostend.From the air large bombing machines rained their deadly missiles uponthe batteries and land-approaches to the town. From seaward themonitors, some with 17-inch guns, opened a furious and accuratebombardment, while from the battle line in Flanders heavy siege-gunspounded the hostile batteries on the left flank of the defences.

  Almost immediately after the opening of the bombardment patches oflocal fog enveloped the approaching flotilla, while the artificialsmoke-screen set up by the coastal motor-boats, although protectingthe _Vindictive_ from direct fire, helped to render her navigation adifficult matter.

  Through the night mists dull flashes showed that the Britishdestroyers were standing in to engage the batteries, while the Huns,in a frenzied sort of way, concentrated most of their guns on acontinuous barrage fire across the entrance to the harbour.

  It was through this deadly hail of projectiles, large and small, thatthe _Vindictive_ was literally compelled to feel her way. As long asshe remained in the smoke-screen she was fairly immune from hostilefire, but directly she drew near the shore she would be the target ofhundreds of guns.

  Peering through a gun-port, which had been additionally protected bywalls of sandbags, Seton noticed a white light showing faintlythrough the drifting smoke. It was the calcium light placed atcertain intervals by the British to enable the _Vindictive_ to fixher position, thus countering the ruse on the part of the Huns thathad succeeded too well in the abortive attack on St. George'sDay--the removal of the recognized navigation buoys.

  For a little more than ten minutes the _Vindictive_ held on a coursethat ought to have brought her off the entrance to the harbour.Anxiously those responsible for navigating her kept a sharp look-out,in the hope of sighting the now familiar piers. Then, as the entrancewas obviously missed, the ship altered course to west'ard, keepingparallel to the shore and maintaining a speed of only nine knots.

  After a while orders were given to alter course sixteen points tostarboard, which meant that the ship would retrace her course andsteer eastwards. Again the elusive harbour was missed, and once morea course was shaped to the westward.

  In the midst of this serious game of maritime blindman's buff--for itwas possible to see only three hundred yards or so owing to thedensity of the fog and smoke--the entrance suddenly came into view atone cable's length distant on the port beam.

  It was now neck or nothing. Orders were given to "prepare to abandonship", the officers on the bridge retired into the conning-tower inorder to con the ship with the least risk (as if such a conditionwere possible), and the _Vindictive_ was steered straight for theharbour entrance.

  Directly the _Vindictive_ sighted the shore the hostile batteriessighted her. Instantly a terrific cannonade was opened upon the ship.

  In the midst of the terrific hammering, which shook the staunch oldvessel from stem to stern, a petty officer came tearing along thedeck.

  "You hands fall in abaft the conning-tower," he shouted, addressingSeton and Branscombe. "Communication's broken down. You're wanted toconvey orders to the engine-room. Look alive!"

  There was no delay on the part of Alec and his chum to execute theorder. At last they were doing something useful instead of remaininginactive in the battery, waiting to take the place of any casualties.

  It was a dangerous post, for there was little or no protectionwithout the conning-tower, which was one of the principal objectivesof the German gunners.

  The ship was still forging ahead, slowly but steadily. The air wasthick with fragments of flying metal, as shells burst in, over, andaround her.

  At last! Literally making her way through a tornado of shot andshell, the _Vindictive_ passed between the pier-heads. Smoke, pouringfrom her engine- and boiler-rooms, mingled with the vapour frombursting projectiles. Happen what might, the block-ship was insidethe harbour and success was within reach.

  It was now necessary to alter course, and since communication betweenthe conning-tower and the steering-flat had been interrupted,Commander Godsal, quitting the doubtful shelter of the conning-tower,stepped outside and shouted for hard-a-starboard.

  By this time the din was absolutely terrific. Seton, standing at thefoot of the bridge-ladder, was unable to hear a word of the captain'sorder. He made a rush to ascend and get instructions.

  "Pass the word for hard-a-starboard," shouted the captain again.

  "Aye, aye, sir!" replied the disguised sub-lieutenant.

 
; He was in the act of descending the ladder when a heavy shell hit theconning-tower. A hot blast literally blew Alec from the ladder andhurled him violently against one of the ventilating shafts. Deafenedby the concussion, he strove to regain his feet, but his limbs seemeddevoid of feeling. Wisps of burning woodwork were lying all around.His canvas jumper was smouldering, yet he lacked the strength tosmother the smoking fabric.

  The next impression was that of being lifted from the deck.Branscombe, seeing his chum's plight, had hurried to the rescue.

  "Captain's orders: hard-a-starboard!" exclaimed Seton. "Leave me, oldman, and pass the word."

  Branscombe, waiting only to divest Alec of his smouldering jumper--itwas a work of a few seconds only--tore off to the steering-flat.Promptly the hand-wheel party obeyed, and the cruiser swung round toport.

  It was the last order that the gallant Godsal gave. The shell thathad hurled Seton like a feather in a gale had literally blown the_Vindictive's_ skipper to atoms. Lieutenant Sir John Alleyne, thenavigating officer, was rendered unconscious by the concussion, whichalso gave the occupants of the conning-tower a bad shaking.

  Immediately Lieutenant Victor Crutchley assumed command. Everythingdepended upon his orders during the next few seconds, for the shipwas still swinging to port and, if her course was not altered, shewould probably ground in a useless position.

  Ordering the port engine to full-speed astern, Lieutenant Crutchleytried to get the ship to swing across the narrow channel between thepiers. Unfortunately the port propeller, which had been badly damagedat Zeebrugge, refused its allotted task, and the ship's bows groundedagainst the eastern pier.

  For a few moments it seemed as if the old ship would swing athwartthe channel, but it soon became apparent that she was hard and fastaground. Nothing more could be done but to sink her as she lay.

  The while the _Vindictive_ was subjected to a terrifically hot fire.The after-control had been completely demolished, killing every manin it. The upper works were literally shattered, while the decks werelittered with debris and the bodies of slain and wounded men.

  "Don't move, old man!" exclaimed Branscombe, who had returned to hischum. "The order's given to abandon ship. I'll stand by you rightenough."

  "You've been hit," said Seton, as he caught sight of a dark,gradually-increasing stain on the right side of Branscombe's jumper.

  "Machine-gun bullet copped me," replied Branscombe. "Nothing much.Heavens! We've had a hammering, but we're here this time."

  "Any sign of the M.-L.'s?" asked Alec after a pause.

  "They'll be here in a brace of shakes," replied Branscombeconfidently.

  The _Vindictive_ had now settled on the bottom of the harbour with aslight list to starboard. The Huns were still maintaining a hot firemerely out of sheer rage. They knew perfectly well that the ship wassunk, and that no military advantage could be obtained by continuingto shell her. They were determined to prevent the rescue of her crew.Massacring survivors of sunken ships is one of the gentle pastimes ofthe "Kultured" Hun, and he now was doing his best to keep up hisreputation.

  Meanwhile, on board the water-logged cruiser the utmost order wasmaintained. In spite of the galling fire, men were coolly searchingfor their wounded messmates and removing them to the safest possibleplaces until the expected rescue craft arrived.

  "Here they are!" shouted a score of voices, as a dazzle-painted M.-L.emerged from the pall of smoke and headed straight for the strandedship.

  Through the shell-torn water M.-L. 254 raced. Her cool andcalculating R.N.V.R. commander knew his job. He came alongside,selecting the _Vindictive's_ port side--that nearest the easternpier--in which he showed admirable judgment, for in the narrow spacebetween the ship and the pier the little M.-L. was temporarilysheltered from direct fire.

  "Now, then!" exclaimed Branscombe. "Up with you, old man!"

  Assisted by his wounded chum, Seton regained his feet. Desperatelyweak, he was able, with Branscombe's assistance, to make his wayalong the inclined deck to where the M.-L. lay grinding in the tidalswell.

  Wounded men were being assisted on board the little craft with theutmost celerity, yet with due care to their desperate condition,until, with close on forty undaunted survivors of the _Vindictive's_crew, M.-L. 254, heavily laden and deep in the water, cast off andbacked astern. Great though her task had been to dash into theharbour, the difficulties that awaited her on her return run were fargreater. Coolness, good judgment, and a special dispensation ofProvidence were needed to enable her to escape from the fiery jaws ofthe deadly trap.