The Thick of the Fray at Zeebrugge, April 1918
Page 18
CHAPTER XVIII
Out of the jaws of Death
Lying at full length upon the deck of the M.-L., Alec Seton underwentone of the most nerve-racking periods of his life. He could feel thewooden hull quivering under the pulsations of the powerfultwin-engines, and the jarring thuds as missiles large and smallstruck the frail craft. By all the laws of naval warfare, M.-L. 254ought to have been out of action long ago, for the Huns, findingtheir prey slipping through their fingers, redoubled their efforts tosend the little boat to the bottom of the sea.
Machine-gun bullets sang through the air like the hum of a thousandangry bees. Men, crowded on the M.-L.'s deck, were hit over and overagain. Of her own crew, the First Lieutenant and one of the deckhands were killed instantly, while the coxswain was badly wounded.Although three times hit, Lieutenant Drummond, M.-L. 254's skipper,stuck gamely to his post, cleared the entrance, ordered full speedahead, and made for the open sea.
Into the merciful fog ran the little M.-L. Enveloped in mist, herhuman cargo was practically safe from fire, but another dangerconfronted the band of heroes.
The severe gruelling to which M.-L. 254 had been subjected hadresulted, amongst other injuries, in the forepart being badly hulled'twixt wind and water. In spite of every effort to stop the leaks,the M.-L. was settling by the bows.
Speed was promptly reduced in the hope that the inrush of water mightbe checked. At the same time sound-signals were made in order to getin touch with the off-shore destroyers. For nearly half an hour M.-L.254 crawled along at slow speed without aid being forthcoming. Itseemed as if her deck cargo of human beings--nearly all of themwounded--would soon be struggling for dear life in the numbing water,for the metal dinghy was hopelessly damaged and practically all thelife-saving devices had been either swept overboard or destroyed byshell-fire.
Following the gallant and brilliant blocking operations, thethreatened fate seemed doubly hard, yet with the heroic fortitude oftheir race the survivors made light of their difficulties, evenlaying odds on the chances of being picked up and cutting grim jokesupon the situation. They had faith that even in the fog and darknessthe patrols would bear down in time to effect their rescue.
By this time the relative conditions of Seton and Branscombe werereversed. In spite of a slight wound from a shell splinter, Alec hadpractically recovered from his shaking. Although feeling stiff andbruised, he had regained the use of his limbs; while the wound,received as he lay upon the M.-L.'s deck, was little more than askin-deep gash on his left cheek.
On the other hand, Branscombe, whose injury was more serious than hecared to admit, was feeling horribly weak from loss of blood. At lasthe had to give in and allow his chum to attend to his injuries.
With a knowledge of first aid--although hampered by thedarkness--Alec cut away his chum's jumper. Just below the lowermostrib on the right side was a small puncture-wound, through which darkblood was welling sullenly. It was not enough to cause weaknessunless the wound were bleeding internally. Very tenderly Seton turnedhis patient over on his side, and made the discovery that themachine-gun bullet had passed completely through, leaving a ratherugly wound where it had emerged.
By the help of a first-aid dressing, Alec succeeded in staunching theflow of blood; then, having done all that he could for the present,he sat down by his comrade's side and waited.
"We'll take to the ditch together, old son," he remarked. "I'll giveyou a hand. 'Sides, it'll soon be dawn, and then we'll be picked up."
Branscombe nodded in outward accord with his chum's plans. He knewperfectly well that Seton was deceiving him in an attempt to buoy uphis spirits. It was some hours till dawn, and the temperature of thesea was too low to enable a man to keep afloat for more than twentyminutes.
"There'll be a fine old jamboree ashore if we are done in," remarkedBranscombe. "I never told a soul that we were going on this stunt;not even my people."
"Neither did I," added Seton. "Officially we are on leave. That meanswe'll be posted as deserters if we fail to report. We were chumps notto take necessary precautions."
"Agreed," declared Branscombe. "It's the penalty for sailing underfalse colours. At anyrate we've been in the thick of the scrap, sothat's some consolation. I say! think you could get me some water? Mythroat's like a lime-kiln."
Stepping over the prostrate forms of half a dozen exhausted andwounded men, Seton made his way to the companion-ladder leading tothe little ward-room. A foot of water was flowing noisily to and froover the floor. Abaft the bulk-head was the galley. For want of a cupAlec took down a small saucepan and held it under the tap of thewater-tank.
The tank was empty. Even its large capacity was not sufficient forthe needs of forty-odd thirsty men.
Foiled and disappointed Alec made for the deck. As he descended theladder, a rousing cheer burst upon the night. Out of the fog a largevessel was bearing down upon the sinking M.-L.
Ten minutes later the survivors of M.-L. 254 and most of the_Vindictive's_ officers and men were safely on board H.M.S._Warwick_, the flagship of Vice-Admiral Sir Roger Keyes, while M.-L.254, her work accomplished, disappeared beneath the waves.
Equally daring was the brilliant affair of M.-L. 276, commanded, likeM.-L. 254, by a Royal Naval Volunteer Lieutenant. No. 276 followedthe _Vindictive_ into Ostend Harbour, her crew boldly engaging theHuns on both piers with machine-guns, as if to impress upon the enemythat they were there and intended to "make a splash". Runningalongside the _Vindictive_, after M.-L. 254 had taken off thesurvivors, the crew of the frail little craft shouted and searchedfor any possible hands who, in the hurry of abandoning ship, mighthave been overlooked. Finding no one, the M.-L. backed away the whileunder a terrific fire. In the midst of a hail of shell andmachine-gun bullets the crew of the M.-L. saw a boat floating keelupwards to which were clinging three men.
These were rescued under most difficult circumstances, for the threewere badly wounded and practically unable to help themselves. It wasafterwards found that one of the rescued was Lieutenant Sir JohnAlleyne, on whom the command of the _Vindictive_ had fallen on thedeath of the gallant Godsal.
Almost by a miracle M.-L. 276 got clear. Hit in fifty-five places andwith three of her crew casualties, she managed to keep under wayuntil picked up and taken in tow by the British monitor _PrinceEugene_.
The heroic ending of the old _Vindictive_ was literally the clinchingof the last nail in the coffin of the Huns' Belgian Coast defences.St. George's Day had all but completed the work; 10th May, 1918settled it. From that day the Belgian ports were useless to the enemyboth as torpedo-boat and submarine bases. The Dover Patrol had closedand secured the Gateway of the Channel against all hostile trafficboth on and under the sea.