Skip to main content

Full text of "The merchant seaman in war"

See other formats 


THE  MERCHAN 
SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

L.GOPE  CORNFORD 

WTTR  A  FOREWORD  BT 


THE 


MERCHANT    SEAMAN 
IN    WAR 

BY 

L.    COPE    CORNFORD 

WITH  A  FOREWORD  BY 

ADMIRAL    SIR    JOHN    R.    JELLICOE 
G.C.B.,  O.M.,  G.C.V.O. 


HODDER     AND     STOUGHTON 
LONDON    NEW  YORK    TORONTO 

MCMXVUi 


TO  THE  MEMORY 
OF  BRAVE  MEN 


FOREWORD 

WE  are  passing  through  a  crisis  in  the  History 
of  our  Nation  during  which  every  individual  is 
called  upon  to  take  some  part.  On  every  side 
there  are  evidences  of  devotion  to  duty,  and 
much  that  is  heroic  and  splendid  is  brought 
into  prominence  every  day.  In  a  conflict  of  so 
vast  a  scale,  however,  countless  acts  of  gallantry 
must  inevitably  pass  unrecorded  and  unknown ; 
and  unless  I  misjudge  my  fellow-countrymen,  I 
believe  their  authors  would  not  have  it  other- 
wise. Yet  the  part  in  this  war  which  has  been 
played  by  the  officers  and  men  of  the  British 
Mercantile  Marine  is  such  that  some  record  is 
imperative.  They  have  founded  a  new  and 
a  glorious  tradition  in  the  teeth  of  new  and 
undreamed-of  peril,  and  have  borne  the  full 
brunt  of  the  enemy's  illegal  submarine  warfare. 
It  is  not  only  in  their  honour  that  I  feel  this 
book  should  go  before  the  public,  but  also  as  a 
lesson  to  succeeding  generations  who  will  follow 
their  paths  in  freedom  on  the  seas. 

J.   R.    JELLICOE. 

March,  1917. 


iii 


394300 


by  the  Same  Author 


ECHOES  FROM  THE  FLEET 
THE  LORD  HIGH  ADMIRAL 
The  SECRET  of  CONSOLATION 


CONTENTS 


OHAP.  PAQR 

I.— THE  MINE 1 

II. — THE  SUBMARINE 9 

III.—"  WAR  is  WAR  " 14 

IV. — THE  LAST  CHANCE      ....  23 

V. — SMALL  GAME        ....  31 

VI.—"  WHERE  is  '  HARPALION  '  ?  "  .       .  36 

VII. — NETSUKE 42 

VIII.— THE  SOLE  SURVIVOR   ....  45 

IX. — ACCORDING  TO  INSTRUCTIONS    .      .  49 

X.— THE  "  LUSITANIA  "      ....  54 

XI. — THE  CASTAWAYS 70 

XII. — DOWN  IN  FIVE  MINUTES    ...  84 

XIII.— THE  RAIDER 92 

XIV.— A  GALLANT  WARNING        .       .       .114 

XV. — THE  FIGHT  OF  THE  "  GOLDMOUTH  "  118 

XVI.— THE  WORTH  OF  A  LIFE     ...  122 

XVII. — THE  ENGINEERS  OF  THE  "  YSER  "  .  127 

XVIII. — SLIPPING  BETWEEN     .       .       .       .130 

XIX.— HEAVY  WEATHER        ....  136 

XX.— A  SITTING  SHOT 143 

XXL— SHIPMATES  WITH  A  PIRATE       .       .  148 

XXII.—"  A  CHEERFUL  NOTE  "...  156 

XXIII.— VIGNETTE 160 

XXIV.—"  LEAVE  HER  " 162 

XXV.— FUEL  OF  FIRE 164 

XXVI.— THE  PILOT'S  STORY     ....  172 

XXVII.— THREE  PRISONERS       ....  179 

XXVIII. — HIDE-AND-SEEK  IN  THE  BAY    .       .185 

XXIX.—"  BUT  NINE  OF  HER  CREW  ALIVE  "  194 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAQB 

XXX.— DEAD  MEN'S  LUCK      ....  200 

XXXI. — FIRING  ON  THE  BOATS       .       .       .  206 

XXXII.— THE  SLAVERS 209 

XXXIII.— A  DESPERATE  PASS     ....  213 

XXXIV.— STICKING  TO  IT 220 

XXXV.— A  FISHING  TRIP 223 

XXXVI.— TWICE  RUNNING 226 

XXXVII.— THE  FIGHT  OF  THE  "  ARACATACA  "  .  228 

XXXVIII.— THE  BLACKGUARD       ....  233 

XXXIX.— SETTLING  THE  SCORE  ....  237 

XL.— THE  RAFT 241 

XLL— THE  FLYING  DEATH    ....  244 

XLII. — BRETHREN  OF  THE  SHARK        .       .  246 

XLIII.— THE  CASE  OF  THE  "  BELGIAN  PRINCE"  249 

XLIV. — EXPECTATION  AND  EVENT         .       .  254 

XLV. — QUICK  EYE  AND  READY  HAND       .  258 

XLVL— PANIC 259 

XLVIL— NINE  STEADFAST  MEN       ...  262 

XLVIIL— CARNAGE 266 

XLIX.— UNAVOIDABLE 269 

L.— QUITE  O.K 272 

LI.— THE  CHASE  BY  NIGHT       ...  275 

LIL— THE  SECOND  CHANCE        ...  278 

LIIL— HARD  PRESSED 281 

LIV. — QUITE  INTERESTING     ....  284 

LV.— SHORT  AND  SHARP       ....  286 

LVL— MIXING  IT 288 

LVII.— SHORT  AND  SWEET      ....  290 

LVIIL— THE  ESCAPE  OP  THE  "  NITRONIAN  "  292 

LIX.— THE  DANGER  ZONE     ....  294 

LX.— RECEIVING  VISITORS    ....  296 

LXL— THE  MASTER  OP  THE  "  NELSON  "    .  299 

ENVOY                                    .      .  302 


In  ike  following  narrative,  in  order  to 
conform  to  the  exigencies  of  war,  it  has  been 
necessary  to  omit  the  names  of  persons  and 
to  give  no  more  than  a  general  indication 
of  localities.  These  discretions  will  not,  it 
is  hoped,  detract  from  the  essential  value  of 
the  record. 


"  BUT  THE  COMMON  SORT  COULD  I  NOT 
NUMBER  NOR  NAME,  NAY,  NOT  IF  TEN- 
TONGUES  WERE  MINE  AND  TEN  MOUTHS, 
AND  A  VOICE  UNWEARIED,  AND  MY  HEART 
OP  BRONZE  WITHIN  ME  .  .  " — Iliad  2. 


•ni 


PREFATORY     NOTE 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  SEA 

THE  complete  history  of  the  doings  and  the  endurance 
of  the  officers  and  men  of  the  Mercantile  Marine  during 
the  war  cannot  yet  be  written  ;  but  by  the  courtesy  of 
the  Lords  Commissioners  of  the  Admiralty  the  present 
writer  has  been  enabled  to  select  a  series  of  examples 
from  the  records  of  the  first  three  years  of  war,  which 
may  serve  to  illustrate  the  whole  matter.  And  the 
theme  of  the  book  is  defined  in  the  Foreword  with  which 
Admiral  Sir  John  Jellicoe,  in  the  midst  of  his  many  and 
great  labours,  has  been  so  good  as  to  endow  the  enter- 
prise. 

That  enterprise  is  difficult  enough  ;  for  the  chronicler 
may  do  his  best,  and  still  he  must  rely  upon  the  help 
of  the  reader.  For  whereas  the  artist  in  fiction  can 
cause  the  persons  of  his  story  to  express  themselves  in 
act  and  word,  and  can  himself  illumine  the  processes 
of  their  mind,  according  to  the  effect  he  desires  to 
achieve,  the  narrator  of  history,  dealing  with  contempo- 
rary persons  and  events,  owns  no  such  pleasant  freedom. 
The  chronicler  can  but  evoke  persons  many  of  whom 
he  has  never  seen,  and  reconstitute  events  which  he 
has  not  witnessed,  from  out  the  official  records,  abstract 
like  a  proposition  in  Euclid,  or  from  the  accounts  of 
the  seamen  themselves,  who,  with  some  exceptions, 
frame  their  style  upon  the  model  of  the  ship's  log.  And 
no  wonder  ;  for  men  who  have  endured  a  deadly  ordeal 


x  PREFATORY  NOTE 

take  small  pleasure  in  reviving  the  experience.  More- 
over, the  circumstances  in  which  the  narrator  tells  his 
story  are  far  from  encouraging.  Very  often  he  has  lost 
his  ship,  not  in  itself  a  gratifying  event ;  very  often,  too, 
he  comes  on  shore  after  having  oscillated,  wet  and 
starving,  between  life  and  death  in  an  open  boat,  for 
days  and  nights.  Sometimes  he  has  been  wounded,  or 
he  has  witnessed  the  violent  death  of  shipmates. 

Thus  the  master,  or  the  officer,  or  the  seaman  fetches 
up  in  the  office  of  the  appointed  official,  who,  if  sym- 
pathetic, is  still  an  official,  whose  sole  business  it  is  to 
reduce  a  strange  and  a  moving  episode  to  an  official 
form  ;  upon  which  it  is  grimly  transmuted  into  sworn 
evidence  of  a  legal  character. 

Nevertheless,  the  official  records  own  the  invaluable 
quality  of  being  true,  or  as  near  to  truth  as  may  be 
attained  by  man's  fallible  recording  instrument  of 
memory ;  and  truth  is  of  so  strange  a  potency  that  it 
can  even  shine  through  a  printed  form  of  the  Board  of 
Trade. 

But  again,  the  truth  fetters  the  historian  ;  for  .he  is 
bound  by  the  reality  of  the  chain  of  events  ;  a  chain 
which  he  dare  not  break  in  pursuit  of  the  broader  truth 
expounded  by  the  artist  in  fiction.  Visible  nature 
knows  nothing  of  the  conventions  of  art,  which,  having 
impressed  them  upon  the  mind  of  man,  nature  leaves 
him  to  apply  at  his  discretion.  So  that  the  historian 
must  take  episodes  as  they  occur.  It  is  not  for  him  to 
clew  up  ragged  ends. 

And  yet  the  historian,  being  in  his  humble  way  an 
artist  too  (inasmuch  as  he  is  making  something  out  of 
something  else),  must  still  select  from  the  mass  of  his 
material  that  which  serves  his  purpose,  to  the  exclusion 
of  other  matters ;  for,  in  default  of  such  discrimination, 
his  picture  would  convey  no  more  than  a  series  of  con- 
fused impressions.  And  in  this  book  it  has  been  the 
design  of  the  chronicler  to  present  the  character  and 
the  virtues  of  the  British  seaman,  rather  than  the 
wickedness  of  his  enemies  or  the  horror  of  his  sufferings. 

For  a  tale  of  wrong  is  of  no  worth  in  itself.    If  in 


PREFATORY  NOTE  xi 

adversity  men  and  women  fail  of  courage  and  constancy 
and  cheer,  then  we  should  lay  our  hands  upon  our  mouths 
and  keep  silence,  for  there  is  no  more  profit  in  speech. 

To  tell,  with  every  device  of  art,  of  a  state  of  hopeless 
resignation  or  of  a  hopeless  discontent,  like  the  Russian 
novelists,  is  merely  to  accuse  the  Creator ;  and  (as  we 
in  England  hold)  falsely. 

There  must  be  an  inestimable,  essential  value  in 
courage  and  constancy  and  cheer,  for  as  matters  are 
arranged  in  this  world,  no  pain  nor  atrocity  is  regarded 
as  excessive,  so  it  educe  these  virtues.  Indeed,  we 
know  their  worth  by  that  faculty  of  inward  recognition 
by  means  of  which  alone  we  may  properly  be  said  to 
know  anything. 

It  is  for  this  reason  that  we  honour  the  officers  and 
men  of  the  Mercantile  Marine,  with  a  sentiment  slightly 
differing  in  kind,  though  not  in  degree,  from  the  senti- 
ment which  we  feel  for  the  naval  seaman  and  the 
professional  soldier.  For  the  business  of  these  men  is 
war  ;  and  it  is  to  be  supposed  they  made  their  account 
with  contingencies  when  they  entered  the  King's  service. 
And  although  it  is  not  true,  what  they  tell  you,  that 
they  are  paid  to  face  mutilation  and  death,  inasmuch 
as  you  can  no  more  pay  a  man  for  these  things  than 
you  can  buy  a  ticket  for  Heaven,  not  to  mention  that 
the  actual  sum  of  money  in  question  is,  broadly  speaking, 
a  standing  disgrace  to  the  nation,  it  is  still  the  fact  that 
the  naval  seaman  and  the  soldier  fall  into  another 
category  from  the  civilian  who  confronts  the  enemy. 

The  merchant  seaman  is  a  peaceful  trader.  During 
many  generations  before  the  war,  the  whole  duty  of 
defending  the  Mercantile  Marine  fell  upon  the  Royal 
Navy.  It  was  not  always  so.  In  the  old  wars,  the 
merchant  ^seaman  and  the  Navy  man  were  very  often 
the  same,  serving  indiscriminately  in  either  Service. 
Merchant  ships  mounted  guns,  and  fought  them 
hardily. lit  was  a  part  of  the  instructions  given  to  a 
master  of  the  Mercantile  Marine  that  he  must  defend 
his  ship  against  the  King's  enemies.  Probably  the  last 
merchant  masters  who  engaged  the  enemy  were  the 


xii  PREFATORY  NOTE 

masters  of  the  ships  of  the  Honourable  East  India 
Company. 

The  Navy  was  evolved  from  the  Mercantile  Marine. 
In  the  beginning,  the  seamen  of  the  merchant  service 
worked  a  ship  of  war,  which  carried  soldiers  to  do  the 
fighting,  and  the  fighting  was  an  affair  of  bows  and 
arrows,  close  quarters  and  sharp  steel,  differing  only 
from  land  warfare  in  that  the  men-at-arms  were  afloat. 
But  in  the  meantime,  the  seamen  themselves,  perpetually 
engaged  in  cross-Channel  raids  and  always  in  distant 
voyages  warring  against  pirates,  learned  to  fight  their 
ships  as  well  as  to  sail  them,  and  so  acquired  the  art  of 
tactical  manoeuvring  under  sail,  in  which  the  ship 
herself  becomes  one  with  the  weapons  of  war,  like  a 
hand  wielding  a  sword. 

Thus  by  degrees  the  soldier  became  eliminated  from 
shipboard,  and  (to  abridge  the  generations)  the  seaman 
became  the  fighting  man.  Traces  of  the  old  system 
survived  to  within  living  memory  in  the  Royal  Navy, 
in  whose  ships  a  master,  who  was  not  a  fighting  man, 
was  responsible  for  the  sailing  of  the  ship.  His  descen- 
dant is  the  navigating  officer,  but  the  navigating  officer 
of  to-day  is  a  fighting  man  who  specialises  in  navigation. 
And  the  Royal  Marines,  who  are  both  seamen  and 
soldiers,  and  who  represent  military,  as  distinguished 
from  naval,  discipline  on  board,  combine  the  two 
systems. 

And  while  the  evolution  of  the  fighting  seaman  was 
proceeding  in  the  King's  ships,  the  merchant  seaman  in 
the  trading  ships  was  losing  his  military  attainments 
and  becoming  the  civilian  proper,  as  we  knew  him 
before  the  war. 

During  the  nineteenth  century,  when  England  became 
the  first  industrial  nation,  and  acquired  half  the  carrying 
trade  of  the  world,  the  merchant  seaman,  in  common 
with  his  kinsfolk  ashore,  fell  into  that  commercial 
slavery  which  was  (and  is)  the  capital  sin  of  England. 

The  men  who  sailed  into  every  quarter  of  the  globe, 
part-adventurers  in  ship  and  cargo,  now  declined  into  a 
state  of  hopeless  dependence,  ill-paid,  ill-fed,  ill-equipped, 


PREFATORY   NOTE  xiii 

sent  to  sea  in  ill-found  ships,  sweated  by  the  shipowners 
when  trade  was  brisk,  and  left  to  rot  on  the  beach  when 
the  insane  commercial  competition  brought  the  inevitable 
penalty  of  depression. 

Save  when  the  indignant  Plimsoll  cursed  the  opulent 
gentlemen  of  a  lethargic  House  of  Commons  into  a 
spasmodic  effort,  the  country  did  nothing  for  the  men 
who  brought  its  daily  food  and  its  monstrous  richest 
The  country  knew  nothing  of  the  merchant  seaman. 
People  owned  a  vague  idea  that  the  sailor  (as  they  called 
him)  was  a  jovial,  reckless  dog,  fond  of  his  lass  and  his 
glass,  usually  drunk  when  on  shore,  and  in  that  glorious 
condition  wasting  his  money  in  riotous  living,  and  gene- 
rally getting  knocked  on  the  head  and  robbed  in  the 
process.  But  it  was  nobody's  business  but  his  own. 
Like  some  millions  of  his  fellow-creatures  on  shore,  he 
was  the  chattel  of  limited  liability  companies,  whose 
shareholders  took  no  sort  of  interest  in  anything  what- 
soever except  dividends. 

Consider  now  this  silent  and  strange  figure  of  the 
merchant  seaman,  pervading  the  centuries  unnoticed. 
Shrewd  of  eye,  hard-featured,  tough  as  oak,  rough- 
tongued,  humorous,  kindly,  rising  up  and  going  to  rest 
with  danger  as  his  constant  copesmate,  as  careless  of 
life  as  indifferent  to  death,  he  holds  his  existence  solely 
by  virtue  of  his  precarious  mastery  of  the  implacable 
sea.  That  perpetual  conflict  sets  him  in  a  class  apart 
from  landward  folk,  of  whom  he  conceives  a  certain 
contempt.  They  dwell  at  home  at  ease  ;  they  have 
every  night  in ;  and  they  ask  him  if  he  has  ever  beheld 
that  glorious  work  of  God,  a  sunrise  at  sea.  They  will 
also  cheat  him  of  his  wages,  sell  him  drugged  liquor, 
steal  the  very  clothes  from  off  his  body,  and  scorn  him 
at  the  end  of  it. 

The  seaman  knows  he  is  never  safe  except  at  sea, 
where  the  rules  of  the  brotherhood  of  the  sea  encompass 
him.  Of  that  simple  and  generous  code  the  people  on 
shore  are  wholly  ignorant.  That  all  seamen  are  bound 
to  help  one  another  in  distress  is  the  first  and  greatest 
rule,  and  its  other  name  is  charity.  With  hazard  of 


xiv  PREFATORY  NOTE 

life  and  gear,  with  money  or  with  goods,  with  food  and 
drink,  it  is  all  one.  When  a  man  dies  on  shore,  his 
neighbours  gather  together  to  relish  the  pageant  of  the 
funeral.  When  a  man  is  killed  at  sea,  his  mates  remark 
that  poor  old  Bill  is  gone,  and  they  hold  an  auction  of 
his  possessions  at  the  foot  of  the  foremast,  and  each 
man  bids  as  high  as  he  can,  and  then  they  send  all  the 
money  to  the  widow. 

If  you  met  an  officer  of  the  Mercantile  Marine  in  the 
street  clad  in  his  shore-going  clothes,  you  would  hardly 
guess  that  this  grave  gentleman  with  the  quiet  voice  and 
the  look,  at  once  brooding  and  vigilant,  as  of  one  beset 
with  multitudinous  cares,  and  meeting  them  carefully, 
is  a  seaman — so  widely  does  popular  conception  differ 
from  reality.  But  in  truth,  from  the  master  of  a  tug 
to  the  master  of  a  liner,  from  the  officer  of  an  ocean- 
going steamship  to  the  mate  of  a  collier,  runs  a  scale  of 
infinite  gradations.  What  is  common  to  all  is  the 
indefinable  spirit  of  their  calling,  the  spirit  which  you 
shall  see  in  action  in  the  pages  of  this  book. 

One  of  its  manifestations  is  the  economy  of  the  ship. 
A  ship  may  be  a  noble  piece  of  design,  or  it  may  be  as 
destitute  of  imagination  as  a  warehouse.  In  other  words, 
the  ship  may  be  built  by  men,  or  it  may  be  constructed 
by  the  semblances  of  men  who  have  sold  their  immortal 
part  for  mone}7.  But,  beautiful  or  ugly,  the  ship  is 
nothing  but  a  vehicle.  It  is  a  far  finer  vehicle  than  a 
railway  locomotive,  partly  by  reason  of  its  immemorial 
and  romantic  history,  and  partly  by  reason  of  the  sen- 
tience which  mysteriously  belongs  to  a  ship,  and  which 
makes  her,  to  the  seaman,  a  person ;  but  a  vehicle  she 
remains. 

But  inasmuch  as  she  carries  a  community  set  apart 
and  exiled  from  its  fellows,  with  a  common  task  to 
achieve,  the  community  is  organised  into  a  society  in 
which  every  man  has  his  allotted  business,  and  in  which 
all  are  subject  to  the  supreme  command  of  the  master. 
The  reason  why  the  society  is  thus  organised  is  simple  ; 
it  is  because  the  institution  of  discipline  is  the  essential 
condition  of  the  accomplishment  of  a  common  enter- 


PREFATORY  NOTE  xv 

prise.  Far  back  along  the  centuries,  when  men  believed 
that  their  chief  enterprise  was,  not  to  make  money 
but,  to  get  to  Heaven,  the  economy  of  the  ship  was  the 
economy  of  Holy  Church.  The  master  was  called  the 
Rector  ;  and  riding  high  on  the  rail  of  the  poop  was  a 
consecrated  shrine,  to  which  every  man  did  obeisance 
when  he  stepped  on  deck.  The  custom  survives  in  the 
Royal  Navy,  in  which  the  Service  man  still  salutes  the 
quarterdeck  when  he  comes  on  board.  (The  civilian, 
unconscious  of  high  matters  and  with  no  desire  to  offend, 
will  drop  matches  on  the  quarterdeck  and  wear  his  hat 
between  decks.) 

The  principle  of  the  economy  of  a  ship,  whether  she 
be  a  King's  ship  or  a  trader,  is  the  principle  of  service, 
which  is  the  principle  of  chivalry.  It  is  written  that  a 
man  cannot  serve  God  and  mammon.  But  he  must 
serve  one  or  the  other.  He  was  bound  to  service  when 
he  was  born  ;  the  only  liberty  he  owns  is  the  liberty 
to  choose  his  master ;  and,  by  a  divine  paradox,  the  one 
choice  will  give  him  liberty  and  the  other  slavery. 
And  the  man  who  serves  on  board  ship  perforce  serves 
another  than  himself,  and  so  far  he  has  found  freedom. 

The  discipline  in  a  merchant  ship  is  in  part  a  matter 
of  law,  and  in  greater  part  an  affair  of  tradition  and  of 
the  personality  of  the  master.  The  instinct  of  service 
is  a  part  of  the  nature  of  the  English.  It  is  usually 
described  as  the  love  of  freedom,  which,  in  fact,  it  is. 
Thus  the  instinct  towards  servitude,  or  submission  to 
tyranny,  is  the  exact  opposite  to  the  instinct  of  service. 
Oppress  the  Englishman,  and  sooner  or  later  he  will 
rebel.  Ask  him  to  serve  you,  deal  with  him  honestly, 
and  he  will  be  staunch  through  thick  and  thin. 

And  at  this  point  arises  the  question  of  material 
recompense.  During  the  war,  the  pay  of  the  merchant 
seaman  (not  of  the  officers)  has  been  doubled.  That 
the  additional  wage  made  an  inducement  to  encounter 
the  hazards  of  war  is,  of  course,  the  fact.  But  when 
the  fighting  begins,  or  the  hidden  blow  is  struck,  it  is 
not  money  that  holds  the  seaman  to  his  duty.  Moreover, 
before  the  war,  the  seaman's  pay  was  both  inadequate 


xvi  PREFATORY  NOTE 

and  inequitable,  nor  was  there  any  provision  for  securing 
him  stability  of  employment,  nor  did  he  earn  a  pension. 

When  war  was  declared,  it  was  the  duty  of  the  mer- 
chant seaman  to  carry  supplies  and  munitions  across 
the  seas.  Upon  his  faithful  discharge  of  that  duty  all 
depended. 

At  first,  the  dangers  menacing  the  Mercantile  Marine 
were  mines  and  hostile  cruisers.  It  does  not  seem  to 
have  occurred  to  the  authorities  that  the  enemy  would 
attack  unarmed  merchant  vessels  with  submarines. 
And  in  due  time  the  submarine  took  the  world  by  sur- 
prise. Thenceforth  the  merchant  seaman  must  sail  at 
the  hazard  of  a  deadly  peril  which  might  come  unawares, 
and  against  which,  in  any  case,  he  was  at  first  utterly 
defenceless.  He  must  navigate  unlighted  channels  amid 
unlighted  ships.  He  must  steer  new  courses  and  learn 
the  art  of  war.  He  never  failed  nor  flinched.  And  you 
shall  mark  in  these  chronicles  the  merchant  seaman, 
beginning  unarmed  and  helpless,  stumbling  over  mines, 
attacked  by  raiding  cruisers,  torpedoed  or  shot  to  pieces 
by  submarines,  sent  adrift  to  go  mad  or  drown  in  open 
boats,  still  sturdily  going  undaunted  about  his  business, 
and  gradually  becoming  a  wary  and  valorous  fighting 
man.  He  is  the  same  merchant  seaman  who,  but  three 
years  since,  was  the  drudge  of  commerce,  and  who  now 
in  his  own  right  is  entered  of  the  chivalry  of  the  sea. 


THE   MINE 

THE  episode  to  be  related  occurred  during 
the  first  weeks  of  the  war,  ere  the  mercantile 
marine  understood  what  was  happening,  or 
perceived  what  might  happen.  To-day  a 
mercantile  marine  master,  attired  in  the  uniform 
of  his  Majesty's  Service,  fetching  up  in  port, 
will  casually  remark  to  a  brother  mariner, 
also  disguised  in  uniform,  that  a  day  or  two 
since  he  saw  a  vessel  torpedoed  a  couple  of 
cables'  length  ahead  of  him.  "  Shut  up  like  a 
box,  she  did,  and  sank  at  once.  And  if  the 
submarine  hadn't  been  so  greedy  she  could  have 
had  me  instead."  Which  brief  tale  of  the  sea 
his  friend  receives  in  a  genial  silence,  presently 
broken  by  a  request  not  to  forget  to  let  him  have 
that  six  fathoms  of  eight-inch  hawser,  what- 
ever he  does.  To-day  the  merchant  skipper, 
navigating  at  night  in  home  waters,  finds  his 
way,  as  he  says,  by  "  putting  his  hand  out  to 
feel."  But  what  the  seaman  calls  the  Religion 
of  the  Sea  stands  now  as  before  the  war.  It 
consists  in  the  simple  faith  that  what  will  be, 
will  be ;  with  the  corollary  that  land  and  sea 

B 


2     THE  I^CHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

are  equally  dangerous  and  equally  safe.  A  new 
illustration  of  an  old  story  occurred  the  other 
day  when  a  seaman,  having  been  torpedoed  out 
of  his  ship,  came  to  a  sailors'  home,  went  out  for 
a  stroll,  was  knocked  down  by  an  omnibus,  and 
indignantly  called  his  Maker  to  witness  that  he 
had  always  said  the  sea  was  safer  than  the  land. 

So,  upon  a  day  in  the  first  weeks  of  the  war, 
the  steamship  Runo  was  placidly  gliding  north- 
wards upon  a  gently  heaving  sea.  Early  that 
morning  the  Runo  had  left  port.  The  master 
was  on  the  bridge,  and  there  he  remained,  while 
the  officers  stood  their  watches  and  relieved  one 
another  according  to  routine.  The  master  had 
been  busy  until  late  into  the  preceding  night, 
embarking  the  passengers ;  and  about  two 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  having  been  on  the 
bridge  for  eight  or  nine  hours,  he  went  to  the 
chart-room  on  the  bridge  deck  and  lay  down  on 
the  sofa  to  get  a  spell  of  sleep. 

At  four  o'clock  the  officer  on  watch  was 
relieved  by  the  chief  officer.  As  he  stood  on  the 
bridge  he  saw  away  on  his  left  hand  the  haze 
shrouding  the  highlands  of  the  coast,  and  two 
or  three  trawlers,  printed  dark  upon  the  water 
in  the  clear  light  of  the  autumn  afternoon, 
and  beyond,  the  gently  heaving  sea  stretching 
vacant  to  the  horizon.  The  passengers  were 
huddled  in  silent  groups  along  the  promenade 
deck,  on  either  side  of  the  house,  or  lay  sick  and 
silent  below.  It  occurred  to  the  second  officer, 
who  had  finished  his  watch,  to  go  down  to  the 
forehold  to  look  at  his  bicycle.  Two  able 
seamen,  seated  on  a  skylight,  were  working  the 


THE'  MINE  3 

pump  fixed  on  the  after  end  of  the  engine-room 
casing,  pumping  water  into  the  galley.  In  the 
chart-room,  within  call  of  the  bridge,  and  so 
instantly  available,  the  captain  lay  asleep. 
There  was  no  sound  save  the  steady  beat  of  the 
engines. 

As  a  measure  of  precaution,  additional  boats 
had  been  provided,  and  there  was  enough  boat 
accommodation  for  all  on  board.  Four  boats,  two 
on  either  side,  were  swung  outboard  from  the 
davits,  and  the  rest  of  the  boats  were  on  chocks 
on  deck.  The  value  of  boats  in  saving  life  depends 
first  of  all  upon  the  ability  of  their  crews  in 
getting  them  away  from  the  ship.  If  the  crews 
are  practised,  and  the  passengers  are  under 
control,  in  smooth  weather  the  operation  should 
be  successfully  accomplished. 

The  chief  officer  on  watch  on  the  bridge  had 
noted  that  the  clock  told  half-past  four,  when 
he  was  shot  into  the  air,  fell  heavily  to  the  deck, 
where  he  lay  unconscious,  a  grating  on  the  top 
of  him.  The  man  at  the  wheel  saw  a  huge 
column  of  water  rise  alongside,  as  he  was  flung 
down  and  sandwiched  between  two  gratings.  At 
the  same  moment  the  two  compasses  and  every 
other  fitting  on  the  bridge  were  broken  to  pieces. 
The  second  officer,  down  in  the  f  orehold  attending 
to  his  bicycle,  was  conscious  of  a  tremendous 
explosion,  which  dashed  him  upwards  against  the 
ceiling,  whence  he  dropped  stunned.  The  able 
seamen  sitting  on  the  skylight,  who  were  working 
the  pump,  were  flung  upon  the  deck.  Picking 
themselves  up,  they  climbed  instantly  upon  the 
top  of  the  engine-room  casing,  port  side,  where 

B  2 


4     THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

was  the  boat  to  which  they  were  allotted.  It 
was  already  filled  with  frightened  passengers. 
The  seamen  helped  to  launch  the  boat,  then  went 
to  help  the  passengers  embark  in  the  boat  on 
the  starboard  side.  The  third  engineer,  who 
had  come  on  deck,  was  pitched  into  the  water, 
where  he  remained  until  he  was  rescued  by  one 
of  the  boats. 

In  the  meantime  the  captain  in  the  chart- 
house  was  hurled  up  from  the  sofa,  struck  the 
ceiling,  and  rebounded  down  upon  the  table 
amid  a  cascade  of  splintered  glass,  and  lay  there 
bleeding  and  unconscious.  But  in  three  or  four 
minutes  he  came  to  himself,  and,  battered  as  he 
was,  with  the  seaman's  unfailing  instinct  to  get 
on  deck  in  a  crisis,  he  staggered  to  the  bridge. 
Blood  was  running  down  his  face  and  dripped 
from  a  gash  in  his  arm.  By  this  time  the  chief 
officer  and  the  steersman  were  on  their  feet 
again ;  the  ship  was  still  forging  on,  but  at  the 
same  time  settling  ominously  down  by  the 
head  ;  and  in  the  water  were  boats  and  swimmers, 
from  whom  the  ship  was  receding.  The  master, 
seeing  the  people  in  the  water,  put  the  helm 
over  hard  a-starboard  to  turn  the  ship  in  their 
direction.  He  issued  orders  to  stop  the  engines, 
to  hoist  the  distress  signal,  and  blew  the  siren  to 
call  the  trawlers  near  by.  He  sent  the  chief 
officer  to  muster  the  passengers  and  to  launch  the 
remaining  boats. 

About  ten  minutes  had  elapsed  since  the 
explosion,  and  in  those  minutes  a  great  deal  had 
happened.  Below  in  the  engine-room  the 
engine-room  staff,  at  the  impact  of  the  explosion, 


THE   MINE  5 

felt  a  sudden  heel  to  port,  and  a  sensation  as 
if  the  ship  had  run  against  a  stone  wall.  The 
second  engineer  said  that  "  it  was  just  like  going 
into  a  stone  wall.  It  was  a  sudden  thud  and  a 
stop."  For  a  few  minutes  no  order  came  from 
the  bridge,  so  that  the  chief  engineer  did  not 
touch  the  engines,  which  continued  working  at 
full  speed.  Thus,  while  the  captain,  the  chief 
officer  and  the  man  at  the  wheel,  and  the  second 
officer  in  the  forehold  were  all  lying  prostrate, 
the  engine-room  staff  remained  below,  in  suspense, 
awaiting  orders.  The  brief  disability  of  the 
ship's  officers  had  no  other  effect  upon  the  engine- 
room  ;  but  it  disastrously  affected  the  passengers. 
The  whole  mass  of  them,  filled  with  panic  terror, 
scrambled  for  the  boats.  By  the  time  the  master 
and  the  chief  officer  had  regained  their  senses  it 
was  too  late. 

The  boat  resting  on  chocks  on  the  engine- 
room  casing,  port  side,  to  which  the  two  seamen 
had  sprung  instantly  after  the  explosion,  was 
indeed  orderly  filled  with  the  stewardess  and 
women  passengers,  twenty-six  in  all,  and  the 
chief  officer  having  by  that  time  come  to  her,  she 
was  swung  out,  lowered  and  cast  off  in  a  seaman- 
like  manner.  But  in  the  meantime  the  alleyways 
were  choked  with  struggling  passengers,  through 
whom  the  seamen  could  not  force  their  way  to 
the  boats.  Such  was  the  general  position.  The 
details  are  obscure,  but  it  seems  evident  that 
the  foremost  boat  on  the  starboard  side,  which 
had  been  filled  with  water  by  the  explosion,  was 
somehow  emptied,  hoisted  from  its  chocks  and 
lowered  into  the  water  by  the  stewards  and  the 


6     THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

passengers.  Why  she  went  away  with  no  more 
than  two  passengers  in  her,  and  why  neither 
passengers  nor  boat  were  ever  seen  again,  are 
not  known. 

The  stewards  and  passengers  between  them 
lowered  four  more  boats.  Of  one  they  cut  the 
falls,  so  that  the  boat  dropped,  hanging  along- 
side by  the  painter,  and  filled  with  water.  The 
people  were  somehow  hauled  on  board  again. 
Of  another  they  cut  the  foremost  falls,  but 
nevertheless  the  boat  was  safely  got  away,  with 
one  able  seaman  and  thirty  to  thirty-five 
passengers  on  board,  none  of  whom  was  ever 
seen  again.  Another  boat,  carrying  twenty  or 
thirty  people,  capsized.  Some  of  these  passengers 
kept  themselves  afloat,  and  these  were  the 
people  whom  the  master  saw  when  he  came  on 
the  bridge  and  put  the  helm  over  in  order  to 
save  them.  Some  were  picked  up.  The  last  of 
the  four  boats  to  be  lowered  by  the  confused  mob 
of  stewards  and  passengers  went  away  full  of 
people,  who  were  never  seen  again. 

By  this  time  the  engines  had  been  stopped, 
and  the  ship  was  gradually  settling  down,  the 
main  hold  being  half  full  of  water.  The  master 
perceiving  that,  in  answer  to  his  signal,  two  steam 
trawlers  were  coming  up,  ordered  that  no  more 
boats  were  to  be  lowered,  and  shouted  through 
a  megaphone  to  the  trawlers  to  pick  up  the  people 
in  the  water.  The  trawlers,  having  saved  a 
number  of  the  swimmers,  drew  alongside,  one 
on  either  side  the  quarter.  It  was  then  about 
twenty-five  minutes  from  the  time  of  the 
explosion.  The  whole  of  the  rest  of  the  people  on 


THE  MINE  7 

board  the  Runo  were  then  transhipped  to  the 
trawlers. 

The  master  was  the  last  to  leave  his  ship. 
She  was  obviously  sinking,  but  the  master 
determined  to  beach  her  if  possible,  and  requested 
the  skipper  of  the  trawler  to  take  her  in  tow. 
Two  men  of  the  Runo  and  two  of  the  trawler's 
crew  went  in  the  trawler's  boat  to  the  Runo 
with  a  hawser,  made  it  fast,  and  remained  on 
board  the  Runo.  For  all  they  knew  she  might 
have  gone  down  under  their  feet.  And  as  soon 
as  the  hawser  tightened  a  noise  like  thunder 
echoed  in  the  bowels  of  the  Runo.  The  bulk- 
head of  the  main  hold  had  collapsed  under  the 
weight  of  water,  and  the  Runo  began  to  dip  her 
nose  deeper.  The  master  of  the  Runo  instantly 
signalled  from  the  trawler  ordering  the  four 
men  to  return  to  her.  These  resolute  seamen 
promptly  cut  the  hawser,  tumbled  into  their 
boat,  cast  off  and  pulled  away.  Scarce  were 
they  clear  of  the  doomed  ship  when  she  plunged 
by  the  head,  and  the  sea  closed  over  her.  It 
was  about  an  hour  and  forty  minutes  since  she 
had  struck  the  mine. 

The  next  day,  Sunday,  the  skipper  of  a 
trawler  cruising  in  that  place  perceived  a  wide 
litter  of  floating  wreckage  and  boats  floating 
bottom  upwards.  He  counted  eight  boats,  all 
of  which  were  capsized  except  one,  which  was 
full  of  water.  The  skipper  picked  up  a 
meat  chest,  a  chest  full  of  books,  and  a  cork 
jacket. 

What  became  of  the  passengers  who  went 
away  in  the  boats  ?  Those  who  were  in  the 


8      THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

first  boat,  launched  under  the  orders  of  the 
chief  officer,  were  picked  up  by  a  trawler.  The 
boat  which  had  a  couple  of  passengers  on  board 
simply  vanished.  Two  boats  which  went  away 
full  of  people  were  afterwards  recovered  empty. 
What  had  become  of  the  passengers  ?  The  sea 
was  calm,  and  the  boats  were  within  a  few 
miles  of  the  land  when  they  left  the  ship.  The 
people  in  them  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  sit 
still,  and  they  would  have  been  rescued.  Yet 
they  simply  disappeared. 


II 

THE   SUBMARINE 

IN  the  grey  noon  of  an  October  day  the 
Glitra,  an  old,  small  iron  steamship,  was  approach- 
ing the  harbour  of  a  neutral  country,  whose  tall 
headlands  loomed  ahead.  So  far  the  master, 
following  the  directions  of  the  Admiralty,  had 
brought  his  ship  scathless.  Within  an  hour  or 
two  she  would  be  safe. 

The  master  and  the  chief  officer  were  on  the 
bridge,  and  an  able  seaman  was  posted  as  look- 
out on  the  forecastle  head.  Up  went  the  flag 
calling  for  a  pilot,  and  presently  the  master 
descried  the  pilot's  motor-boat  swiftly  approach- 
ing from  the  shore.  At  the  same  moment  he 
perceived  a  long  and  low  object  moving  towards 
him  on  the  water  some  three  miles  to  seaward. 
The  apparition  was  like  a  blow  over  the  heart 
to  the  men  of  the  Glitra.  But  it  might  be  a 
British  submarine.  The  master,  staring  through 
his  glass  at  the  flag  flying  from  the  short  mast  of 
the  nearing  vessel,  made  out  the  black  German 
eagles.  The  pilot  saw  them  too,  for  he  went 
about,  heading  back  to  harbour  ;  and  with  him 


10    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

the  men  of  the  Glitra  beheld  their  last  hope  for 
the  ship  implacably  receding,  and  confronted  the 
inevitable  with  the  dogged  composure  of  the 
British  seaman. 

The  master  altered  course,  steering  away  from 
the  submarine,  which,  fetching  a  wide  circle, 
drew  towards  the  Glitra.  The  submarine  had 
the  speed  of  the  old  cargo-boat,  and  as  she  came 
closer  the  master  heard  the  metallic  ring  of  tube- 
firing,  and  a  flight  of  small  shot  sang  about  his 
ears.  Thereupon  he  stopped  his  engines,  and 
the  Glitra  lay  still,  while  the  submarine  drew 
nearer  and  stopped  within  a  ship's  length  of 
the  steamer.  There  she  lay,  the  water  lipping 
on  the  rounded  hull,  from  which  the  conning- 
tower  rose  amidships.  The  commanding  officer 
stood  by  the  rail  of  the  conning-tower,  and  men 
were  descending  thence  to  the  narrow  platforms 
fore  and  aft,  and  busying  themselves  on  the 
deck.  Then  the  submarine  hoisted  the  code 
signal,  meaning  "  drag-rope  "  ;  and  the  men 
on  board  the  Glitra  saw  the  Germans  get  a 
collapsible  boat  into  the  water.  Two  men 
pulled,  and  a  third  sat  in  the  stern-sheets. 

The  men  of  the  Glitra  awaited  events  in 
silence  ;  and  the  next  thing  of  which  the  master 
was  acutely  conscious  was  the  cold  muzzle  of 
a  revolver  pressing  into  the  flesh  of  his  neck, 
while  the  excited  German  officer  wielding  that 
weapon  ordered  him  in  throaty  but  intelligible 
English  to  leave  his  bridge  and  to  get  his  boats 
away  in  ten  minutes,  as  his  ship  was  to  be 
torpedoed. 

The   master,   going   down   on   deck   with   a 


THE  SUBMARINE  11 

disagreeable  sensation  as  of  a  pistol  aimed  at 
his  back,  mustered  the  silent  crew,  who  assembled 
under  the  hard  eyes  of  three  Germans  covering 
them  with  revolvers,  and  who  at  the  same  time 
beheld  two  guns  on  the  submarine,  one  forward 
and  the  other  aft  of  the  conning-tower,  trained 
expectantly  upon  the  ship.  Then  the  master, 
looking  directly  at  the  small  black  circle  of  the 
revolver's  muzzle,  was  ordered  to  haul  down  his 
flag.  Still  followed  by  the  revolver,  he  went  to 
the  halliards  and  dropped  the  flag  to  the  rail, 
over  which  it  hung  drooping  and  disconsolate. 
And  then  he  was  ordered  to  fetch  the  ship's 
papers,  which  are  the  most  sacred  trust  of  the 
master  of  a  vessel.  Down  below  he  went,  with 
the  pistol  at  his  back ;  and  no  sooner  had  he 
vanished  down  the  companion-way  than  the 
German  officer  seized  the  flag,  tore  it  across  and 
across,  flung  the  pieces  on  the  deck,  and  stamped 
upon  them  like  a  maniac.  The  master  came  on 
deck  to  witness  the  remarkable  spectacle  of  an 
officer  of  H.I.M.  Imperial  Navy  wiping  his  sea- 
boots  on  the  Red  Ensign. 

The  German,  having  thus  gratified  his  emotions, 
again  turned  his  revolver  on  the  master,  ordered 
him  to  hand  over  the  ship's  papers,  forbade  him 
to  fetch  his  coat,  and  refused  to  allow  the  crew, 
who  were  sullenly  launching  the  three  boats,  to 
get  any  additional  clothing.  Then  the  German 
officer  ordered  the  three  boats  to  pull  to  the 
submarine  and  to  make  fast  to  her. 

The  men  of  the  Glitra,  fetching  up  alongside 
the  submarine,  gazed  curiously  upon  the  dull, 
rigid  faces  of  the  German  bluejackets,  and 


12    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

marked  the  strange  and  ugly  forms  of  the 
Tinfish,  as  the  merchant  service  calls  it.  So  soon 
as  the  boats  were  made  fast,  the  submarine, 
with  a  grinding  noise  like  the  working  of  mill- 
stones, drew  off  about  a  ship's  length,  towing 
the  boats,  and  stopped  again.  During  this  time 
the  master,  scanning  his  lost  ship  intently,  saw 
the  three  Germans  left  on  board  her  hurrying  to 
and  fro,  taking  his  charts  and  compasses  and 
lowering  them  into  their  own  boat.  Then  one 
of  them,  supposed  by  the  master  to  be  an 
engineer,  went  below.  Presumably  the  German 
turned  on  the  sea-cocks,  for  the  master  presently 
observed  the  Glitra  to  be  settling  down  by  the 
stern. 

It  was  then  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  since 
the  crew  had  quitted  the  Glitra ;  and  the  com- 
manding officer  of  the  submarine  ordered  the 
master  to  cast  off  and  to  proceed  towards  the  land. 

As  the  boats  drew  away  from  his  ship,  lying 
deserted  and  sinking  lower  into  the  water,  the 
master,  watching,  perceived  the  dim  shape  of 
the  submarine  still  circling  about  her,  like  a 
sea-beast  of  prey.  Gradually  the  boats  drew 
out  of  sight  of  the  last  scene. 

The  men  had  been  rowing  for  about  an  hour 
when  the  pilot-boat  came  up  and  took  them  in 
tow.  Then  the  men  of  the  Glitra  were  taken  on 
board  a  neutral  ship  of  war.  The  master  of 
the  Glitra  and  the  crew,  thus  stranded  in  a 
foreign  man-of-war  with  nothing  in  the  world 
except  what  they  had  on,  heard  the  growl  of 
guns  rolling  from  seaward,  where  the  submarine 
was  working  her  will  on  the  desolate  ship. 


THE  SUBMARINE  13 

The  capture  and  destruction  of  the  Glitra 
marks  an  early  stage  in  the  evolution  of  the 
German  pirate.  The  destruction  of  the  ship  in 
default  of  having  brought  her  before  the  Prize 
Court  of  the  enemy,  was  a  violation  of  inter- 
national law,  which  might,  however,  be  defended 
on  the  plea  of  necessity.  The  refusal  to  permit 
officers  and  men  to  take  with  them  their  effects 
was  an  infraction  both  of  universal  rule  and  of 
the  German  Naval  Prize  Regulations  of  1914. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  may  be  contended  that 
the  enemy  did  in  fact  place  the  crew  of  the 
captured  ship  in  safety. 

The  British  were  threatened  with  revolvers, 
and  guns  were  trained  upon  them,  but  these 
weapons  were  not  fired,  and  no  one  was  injured. 
In  his  later  stages  the  German  pirate  observed 
no  such  restraint.  As  for  the  insult  to  the 
British  flag,  while  it  may  have  been  the  result 
of  an  unpleasant  personal  idiosyncrasy,  it  is 
also  significant  of  a  mental  condition  prevailing 
among  German  officers,  of  which  examples 
subsequently  multiplied. 


Ill 

"WAK   IS   WAE" 

ON  November  23rd,  1914,  the  little  cargo- 
boat  Malachite,  four  days  out  from  Liverpool, 
was  drawing  near  to  the  French  coast.  It  was 
a  quarter  to  four  in  the  afternoon ;  the  ship, 
rolling  gently  to  the  easterly  swell,  was  within 
an  hour  or  so  of  Havre,  which  lay  out  of  sight 
beyond  Cape  La  Heve,  darkening  in  the  haze 
some  four  miles  distant  on  the  port  bow.  The 
master  and  the  mate,  who  were  on  the  bridge, 
descried  the  indistinct  form  of  a  long  and  low 
vessel  lying  about  two  miles  away  on  the  star- 
board beam.  As  they  looked,  the  mist  clinging 
about  the  unknown  craft  lit  with  a  flash,  followed 
by  the  report  of  a  gun,  and  a  shot  sang  across  the 
bows  of  the  Malachite.  Then  the  two  officers 
on  the  bridge  recognised  the  vessel  to  be  a  German 
submarine.  The  first  that  the  men  below  in  the 
engine-room  knew  was  the  clang  of  the  bridge- 
telegraph  and  the  swinging  over  of  the  needle 
on  the  dial  to  "  stop."  They  eased  down  the 
engines,  and  as  the  ship  lost  way,  they  heard 
two  long  blasts  of  the  steam  whistle  sounded  on 


"WAR  IS   WAR"  15 

the  bridge.  Then  silence,  the  ship  rolling  where 
she  lay. 

The  master  and  the  mate,  standing  against 
the  bridge-rail,  contemplated  the  approach  of 
the  submarine.  The  German  officer  and  the 
quartermaster  were  on  the  conning-tower.  Abaft 
of  the  conning-tower,  on  deck,  a  seaman  stood 
beside  a  small  gun,  which  was  fitted  with  a 
shoulder-piece.  The  submarine  drew  close 
alongside  the  Malachite,  and  her  officers  looked 
down  into  the  eyes  of  the  German  naval  officer, 
and  the  German  naval  officer  looked  up  at  the 
two  British  seamen.  These  knew  well  enough 
what  to  expect,  and  merely  wondered  in  what 
manner  it  would  arrive. 

The  German  officer  was  polite  but  business- 
like. Where  have  you  come  from  ?  Where 
are  you  going  ?  What  is  your  cargo  ?  These 
were  his  questions,  framed  in  that  school  English 
which  for  many  years  every  German  midshipman 
has  learned  as  part  of  his  pass  examination,  in 
order  that  he  may  communicate  with  the 
conquered  race  of  Britain. 

The  master  gave  the  required  information. 
He  could  do  nothing  else.  Then  the  submarine 
officer  gave  an  order,  and  a  sailor  ran  along  the 
deck  of  the  submarine  and  hoisted  the  German 
ensign  on  the  short  mast  mounted  aft.  All  being 
now  in  order,  the  submarine  officer  requested 
the  master  of  the  Malachite  to  prepare  to  leave 
his  ship  at  the  expiration  of  ten  minutes,  and 
to  bring  with  him  the  ship's  papers. 

The  master,  mustering  the  crew,  got  away 
the  two  lifeboats,  and  fetched  his  papers.  The 


16    THE   MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN   WAR 

two  boats  came  alongside  the  submarine ;  and 
now  the  submarine  officer  gazed  down  at  the 
stolid  British  seamen,  who  were  utterly  in  his 
power,  and  they  stared  curiously  up  at  the  trim 
and  easy  German. 

The  master,  handing  over  his  papers,  since 
there  was  no  help  for  it,  asked  that  the  ship's 
log  and  the  articles  might  be  given  back  to  him. 
The  submarine  officer  declined  to  grant  the 
request.  Then  he  added,  "  I  am  sorry  I  cannot 
accommodate  you  and  your  crew,  but  war  is 


war." 


Then  he  told  the  master  to  stand  clear,  and 
as  the  two  boats  hauled  off,  the  submarine  got 
under  way.  The  men  in  the  boats,  resting  on 
their  oars,  saw  the  submarine  open  fire  on  the 
Malachite  at  a  range  of  about  200  yards,  saw 
the  shot  strike  the  ship  at  the  base  of  the  funnel, 
and  a  hissing  cloud  of  steam  and  smoke  enshroud 
her,  saw  shot  after  shot  pierce  the  hull,  and  the 
ship  beginning  to  settle  down  by  the  head. 

Darkness  was  gathering,  and  the  fog  was 
closing  in,  when  the  master  ordered  the  men  to 
give  way,  and  steered  towards  Havre.  As  they 
pulled  through  the  gloom,  the  men  in  the  boats 
heard  the  intermittent  bark  of  the  gun  sounding 
from  seaward.  After  about  three-quarters  of  an 
hour  there  was  silence. 

They  came  into  Havre  Harbour  at  half-past 
eight,  after  a  pull  of  some  three  and  a  half  hours. 
Subsequently  they  learned  that  the  submarine, 
having  fired  the  ship,  left  her,  and  that  she 
remained  afloat  all  that  night  and  the  next  day. 

The  taking  of  the  Malachite  is  typical  of  the 


"WAR  IS  WAR"  17 

end  of  the  first  phase  of  submarine  warfare  ;  the 
phase  in  which  the  German  officer,  individual 
acts  of  brutality  apart,  at  least  recognised  the 
existence  of  the  law  of  nations,  used  a  certain 
consideration  for  the  crews  of  captured  vessels, 
and  was  occasionally  even  courteous.  On  the 
other  side,  merchant  ships  were  still  totally 
defenceless ;  and  sometimes,  as  in  the  case  of 
the  Malachite,  were  taken  within  sight  of  land 
and  close  to  a  port  of  arrival. 

In  the  next  phase  of  submarine  warfare,  war 
was  still  war,  but  it  was  also  murder.  At  the 
beginning  of  February,  1915,  Germany  issued 
the  following  official  announcement : 

(1)  "  The   waters   round   Great   Britain   and 
Ireland,  including  the  English  Channel,  are  hereby 
declared  a  military  area.     From  February  18th 
every  hostile  merchant  ship  in  these  waters  will 
be  destroyed,  even  if  it  is  not  always  possible 
to  avoid  thereby  the  dangers  which  threaten  the 
crews  and  passengers. 

(2)  "  Neutral  ships  will  also  incur  danger  in 
the  military  area,  because,  in  view  of  the  misuse 
of  flags  ordered  by  the  British  Government  on 
January  31st  and  the  accidents  of  naval  warfare, 
it  cannot  always  be  avoided  that  attacks  may 
involve  neutral  ships. 

(3)  "  Traffic  northwards  around  the  Shetland 
Islands,  in  the  east  part  of  the  North  Sea,  and 
a  strip  of  at  least  thirty  sea  miles  in  breadth 
along  the  coast  of  Holland  is  not  endangered. 

"  (Sgd.)  VON  Pom, 

"  Chief  of  Admiralty  Staff." 

c 


18    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

To  which  laborious  threat  the  British  Foreign 
Office,  on  February  7th,  1915,  replied  by  stating 
that  the  use  of  a  neutral  flag  by  a  belligerent, 
within  prescribed  limitations,  was  perfectly 
legitimate,  adding  the  extremely  pertinent 
declaration  that : 

:c  To  destroy  ship,  non-combatant  crew  and 
cargo,  as  Germany  has  announced  her  intention 
of  doing,  is  nothing  less  than  an  act  of  piracy 
on  the  high  seas." 

The  Foreign  Office  does  not  specifically  brand 
the  Imperial  German  Government  as  a  pirate ; 
it  declares  that  the  doings  of  the  public  ships 
of  the  Imperial  German  Government  are  acts 
of  piracy.  It  is  hard  to  trace  the  distinction, 
if  indeed  there  be  a  distinction.  The  President 
of  the  United  States,  in  his  message  to  Congress 
of  April  2nd,  1917,  does  in  effect  state  that  the 
Imperial  German  Government  is  hostis  humani 
generis,  which  is  the  definition  of  a  pirate.  His 
Majesty's  Attorney-General,  Sir  Frederick  Smith, 
K.C.,  in  his  book  "  The  Destruction  of  Merchant 
Ships  under  International  Law  "  (J.  M.  Dent  & 
Sons,  London,  1917),  states  his  conclusion  as 
follows  :  "  The  very  use  of  submarines  against 
merchantmen — even  against  enemy  merchant- 
men, as  has  been  shown  above — is  unlawful. 
All — belligerents  and  neutrals  alike — who  have 
suffered  loss  in  lives  or  property  as  a  result  of 
this  unlawful  conduct  are  entitled  to  full  repara- 
tion." 

And  what  about  the  merchant  seamen, 
shattered,  mutilated  and  drowned  in  pursuance 
of  their  lawful  occasions  ?  This  at  least ;  that, 


"WAR  IS   WAR"  19 

while  they  endured  and  perished,  a  gigantic 
storm  of  wrath  was  formidably  gathering  below 
their  horizon,  the  wrath  of  all  other  sea  nations, 
brooding  upon  Germany  and  Austria,  and  charged 
with  a  vengeance  insatiable  as  the  sea. 

The  Germans,  inherently  treacherous,  have  no 
notion  of  keeping  their  word,  and  they  began, 
as  usual,  before  the  scheduled  time.  While 
Admiral  von  Pohl,  majestically  ensconced  in 
the  Reichsmarineamt  in  Berlin,  was  methodi- 
cally inditing  his  lying  accusation  of  the  misuse 
of  the  neutral  flag  by  the  British,  a  German 
submarine  (it  was  reported)  was  cruising  about 
the  English  Channel  flying  the  French  flag. 
That  was  before  January  30th,  1915  ;  the  German 
proclamation  of  "  military  "  murder  "  area  " 
was  not  issued  until  a  day  or  two  afterwards, 
and  therein  it  was  stated  that  the  new  arrange- 
ments were  to  begin  on  February  18th.  The 
ToJcomaru  was  sunk  on  January  30th. 

She  was  a  steamship  of  nearly  4,000  tons 
register,  had  left  Wellington,  New  Zealand, 
three  weeks  previously,  on  January  22nd,  and 
had  touched  at  Tenerifie,  which  port  was  swarm- 
ing with  Germans.  The  Tokomam  lay  at  Tenerifie 
for  eleven  hours,  during  which  time  many  shore 
boats  came  alongside.  The  visitors  could  easily 
have  ascertained  her  destination.  Whether  or 
not  that  circumstance  was  related  to  her  destruc- 
tion is  not  known.  Teneriffe  belongs  to  Spain. 

Like  the  Malachite,  the  Tokomaru  was  bound 
for  Havre.  Off  Ushant  she  spoke  a  French 
man-of-war,  giving  her  name  and  destination. 

c  2 


20    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

At  about  nine  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  Saturday, 
January  30th,  1915,  she  was  within  seven  miles 
of  the  Havre  lightship.  Somewhere  on  the  sea- 
floor  beneath  the  Tokomam's  keel  lay  the  bones 
of  the  Malachite.  It  was  a  fine,  clear  morning, 
the  land  mistily  sparkling  beyond  the  shining 
levels  of  the  sea.  Some  of  the  crew  were  busy 
about  the  anchors,  preparing  to  moor.  The 
master  and  the  second  and  third  officers  were  on 
the  bridge.  An  able  seaman  was  posted  on  the 
forecastle  head,  looking  out.  Between  the  ship 
and  the  shore  a  French  trawler  was  steaming 
about  her  business. 

Without  any  sign  or  warning  a  tremendous  blow 
struck  the  ship  on  the  port  side  with  a  loud 
explosion,  and  a  column  of  water,  rising  to  the 
height  of  the  funnels,  descended  bodily  upon 
the  three  officers  on  the  bridge,  swept  along  the 
decks,  poured  down  the  companion-ways,  and 
filled  up  the  stokehold.  The  ship  leaned  over  to 
port,  and  officers  and  men  felt  her  settling  down 
under  their  feet. 

Several  things  happened  simultaneously.  The 
master,  cool  and  composed,  looking  seaward, 
perceived  a  little  hooded  dark  object  cleaving 
the  surface  about  600  yards  away  on  the  port 
beam,  and,  making  a  path  from  it  to  the  ship, 
irregular,  eddying  patches  of  foam.  There, 
then,  was  the  submarine  and  there  was  the  track 
of  her  torpedo,  ending  in  a  spreading  inky  patch 
of  water  about  the  ship,  where  the  sea  was 
washing  the  coal  out  of  the  bunkers.  Even  as 
the  master  ordered  the  boats  to  be  manned,  the 
periscope  of  the  submarine  disappeared.  At 


"WAR  IS  WAR"  21 

the  same  time  the  wireless  operator,  shut  up  in 
his  room,  was  making  the  8.0.8.  signal,  and  the 
French  trawler  in  the  distance  began  to  steam 
at  full  speed  towards  the  ship. 

Owing  to  the  list  of  the  vessel  the  falls  of  the 
boats  jammed.  The  crew  cut  the  ropes,  hammered 
away  the  chocks,  and  stood  by,  quietly  awaiting 
the  order  to  launch.  They  were  all  wet  through, 
for  those  on  deck  had  been  smothered  in  the 
falling  water,  and  those  below  had  struggled  up 
the  ladders  against  descending  torrents.  There 
they  stood,  the  deck  dropping  by  inches  beneath 
their  feet,  and  tilting  towards  the  bows,  until 
the  sea  was  washing  over  the  forecastle  head, 
when  the  master  ordered  them  into  the  boats. 
The  master  was  the  last  to  leave  the  ship.  His 
cabin  being  full  of  water,  he  was  unable  to  save 
the  ship's  papers  and  money.  Sixty-two  pounds 
belonging  to  the  owners,  and  about  seventeen 
pounds  belonging  to  the  master  himself,  were  lost. 

By  this  time  the  French  trawler  had  come  up, 
and  the  officers  and  men,  fifty-eight  all  told, 
were  taken  on  board.  The  trawler  stood  by, 
while  a  flotilla  of  French  torpedo-boats,  arriving 
from  Havre  with  several  trawlers,  steamed 
swiftly  in  circles  round  the  sinking  ship,  in  order 
to  guard  against  a  renewed  attack. 

At  half-past  ten,  about  an  hour  and  a  half 
after  she  was  torpedoed,  the  Tokomaru,  with  her 
cargo  of  general  goods  and  fruit,  went  down  in  a 
great  swirl  of  water.  When  it  had  subsided,  the 
trawler  moored  a  buoy  over  the  spot,  and  took 
the  Tokomaru' }s  people  into  Havre. 

Then  and  there  the  master  must  begin  his 


22    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

dreary  task  of  communicating  with  the  British 
Consul,  and  with  his  owners.  And  then  messages 
in  cypher  sped  over  the  cables  to  the  Foreign 
Office,  to  the  Admiralty,  and  to  all  concerned, 
altogether  a  surprising  number  of  persons ; 
while  the  German  submarine  sped  on  her  evil 
way,  invisible. 

Eleven  days  afterwards  a  lifebuoy,  painted 
white,  and  inscribed  with  the  legend  "  S.S. 
Tokomaru,  Southampton,"  was  picked  up  of! 
Dover. 


IV 
THE   LAST   CHANCE 

EARLY  on  the  morning  of  July  4th,  1915,  a 
certain  wireless  station  on  shore  took  in  and 
recorded  a  conversation  which  was  being  carried 
on  between  a  vessel,  the  Anglo-Californian,  in 
the  North  Atlantic,  flying  for  her  life,  and  three 
of  his  Majesty's  ships  which  were  rushing  to  her 
rescue.  Figure  to  yourself  the  wireless  operator, 
a  staunch  youth,  in  his  narrow  room  abaft  the 
bridge  and  exposed  to  fire,  the  ear-pieces  hooped 
over  his  head,  making  and  taking  in  messages 
amid  the  incessant  detonation  of  guns,  the  crash 
of  striking  shots,  cries,  the  pounding  of  feet 
along  the  decks,  and  the  scream  of  wounded 
animals  piercing  from  below.  And  picture,  out 
of  sight  of  the  Anglo-Calif ornian,  three  men-of- 
war  foaming  towards  her,  and  in  the  wireless 
room  of  each  a  tiny  cabin  opening  from  the 
deck,  a  young  bluejacket  intensely  occupied  .  .  . 
And  rapt  in  the  same  business,  the  operator  in 
the  wireless  station  on  shore.  And  wherever 
the  aerials  pattern  the  sky,  on  sea  or  land,  the 
same  words  or  part  of  them,  so  far  as  the  vibra- 
tions extend,  flow  into  human  cognisance. 


24    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

The  Anglo-Calif ornian,  at  8.43  a.m.  to  Anyone: 
"  S.O.S.,  S.O.S.  Being  chased  by  submarine, 
S.O.S."  Then  he  gave  the  position  of  the  ship. 
No  answer  recorded.  Twenty  minutes  later 
A.-C.  again  gave  position,  adding,  "  Go  ahead. 
He  is  being  led  a  dance  and  it  is  O.K.  to  work 
for  a  few  minutes.  Now  altering  course  to  south." 
Then"  Are  you ?  He  is  rapidly  overtaking  us." 

Answer  from  the  void  :  "  Steer  "  (so-and-so) 
"  and  keep  me  informed." 

A.-C. :  "  That  is  impossible.  We  are  being 
fired  on." 

Answer :    £  Where  is  submarine  ? >J 

A.-C. :   "  Now  astern." 

Answer :  "  Endeavour  carry  out  instructions 
— important." 

A.-C. :  "  Can't — he  is  now  on  top  of  us  and  I 
can  hear  his  shots  hitting  us." 

Answer :   "  On  your  port  ?  " 

A.-C. :  "  Submarine  on  top  of  us  and  hitting 
us."  Then,  "  Captain  says  steering  "  (so-and-so) 
"if  he  alters  course  will  endanger  ship." 

Answer :  A  code  message,  followed  first  by  a 
conversation  which  told  that  more  than  one 
man-of-war  was  answering  the  A.-C.,  and 
secondly  by  an  order. 

A.-C. :  '  If  we  steer  east  we  shall  have 
submarine  a-beam.  We  can't  do  it." 

Answer :  "  Please  give  your  speed," 

which  was  given,  with  A.-C.'s  position,  and  colour 
of  her  funnels.  A.-C.  added,  "  Can  see  your 
smoke,  hold  on." 

Answer :  "  According  to  your  position  I  am 
nine  miles  off  you." 


THE  LAST  CHANCE  25 

A.-C. :    "  We  are  the  transport  Anglo-Cali- 
fornian." 

Answer :   "  Have  you  many  passengers  ?  " 
A.-C. :    "  No,  but  we  are  150  men  on  board 


as  crew." 


Answer :  "  Please  fire  rocket  to  verify  posi- 
tion." Followed  by  a  conversation  on  the 
subject. 

Answer :   "  What  is  position  of  submarine  ?  " 

A.-C. :   "  Right  astern  firing  at  wireless." 

Answer :  "  Let  me  have  your  position  fre- 
quently." 

A.-C. :  "  Now  firing  our  rockets,"  followed  by 
information  as  to  position. 

This  was  at  10.9,  and  at  10.12,  that  is,  when 
the  chase  and  attack  had  lasted  for  an  hour  and 
a  half,  the  Anglo-Calif ornian  made, 

"  Submarine  signals  abandon  vessel  as  soon  as 
possible." 

The  answer  was  an  order,  to  be  carried  out  as 
"  a  last  resource." 

A.-C. :   "  No,  no,  she  is  too  close." 

Then  the  conversation  became  in  the  stress  of 
the  moment  even  more  like  mediumistic  com- 
munications. The  record  runs : 

A.-C. :  "  We  are  stopped.  Can  see  you." 
(Or,  "  Can  you  see  ?  ") 

Answer :  "  Stopped  and  blowing  off.  Can 
see  you  distinctly.  Am  about  S.W.  from  you, 
hold  on." 

A.-C. :  "  In  what  direction  ?  He  is  on  the 
port  side.  We  are  between  you  and  him.  Hurry, 
hurry,  hurry.  He  is  getting  abeam  to  torpedo  us." 

Answer :  "  I  am  coming." 


26    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

A.-C. :  "  We  are  keeping  him  astern  now." 

(?)  Answer:  "O.K.  Endeavour  to  keep  his 
attention." 

Answer:  "You  will  be  quite  safe  when 
(illegible)." 

A.-C. :  "  Steering  zig-zag."  Followed  by 
questions  and  answers  as  to  course  and  number 
of  masts  of  the  Anglo-Californian,  in  the  midst 
of  which  A.-C.  interjected,  "  For  God's  sake 
hurry  up.  What  gone  ?  Firing  like  blazes," 
and  "  Keeping  him  astern.  Hurry  up." 

Answer :  "  We  are  firing,  can  you  inform 
result  ?  " 

A.-C. :  "  Can  hear  you  .  .  .  have  stopped  .  .  . 
no,  no.  ...  Several  being  wounded  .  .  .  shrapnel, 
I  believe." 

Answer :  "  Keep  men  below  or  those  on  deck 
to  lay  face  down." 

A.-C. :  "  All  taking  shelter  in  front  of  bridge- 
houses.  He  is  firing  shell."  Followed  by  more 
questions  and  answers  as  to  masts  and  speed, 
then  "  Sub.  keeping  pace  ;  he  is  still  very  close, 
within  a  couple  of  hundred  yards.  Captain  wants 
to  know  if  you  will  fire  to  scare  him." 

Answer :  "  Firing  to  scare  him  ;  please  head 
towards  me." 

A.-C. :  "  We  can't ;  you  are  astern  and  so  is 
sub.  Head  for  us  in  roundabout  route." 

Answer :  A  tactical  order,  and  an  inquiry  if 
smoke  can  be  seen. 

A.-C. :  "  Yes,  yes,  a  long  way  off.  Can  see 
your  smoke  astern." 

Answer :   "  What  bearing  ?  " 

Two  minutes  later,  after  a  confused  inter- 


THE  LAST  CHANCE  27 

change    of    messages,    Anglo-Californian    said : 
"  They  can't  tell  what  bearing,  now  sinking." 
Answer :   "  Are  you  torpedoed  ?  " 
A.-C. :  "  Not  yet,  but  shots  in  plenty  hitting. 
Broken  glass  all  around  me.    Stick  it,  old  man." 
(?)  Answer :   "  Yes — you  bet." 
A.-C.  (suddenly  becoming  American  in  lan- 
guage) :  "  Say,  the  place  stinks  of  gunpowder, 
am  lying  on  the  floor." 
(?)  Answer:   "Nothing  better,  old  man." 
(?)  "  Keep  your  pecker  up,  old  man." 
A.-C. :    "  Sure  thing."     And  "  Is  there  any- 
thing else  coming  to  us,  please  ?  " 

Answer :  "  Yes,  I  am — coming  full  speed 

knots." 

A.-C. :  "I  have  had  to  leave  'phones.  Yes, 
I  say  I  smell  gunpowder  here  strong  and  am 
lying  on  the  floor,  my  gear  beginning  to  fly 
around  with  concussion." 

Answer  :  "  .  .  .  smoke  W.N.W.  of  me.  There 
is  a  mass  (?)  of  fight  on  our  starboard  side  and 
the  sub.  is  on  our  port  side." 

Three  minutes  later,  at  11.23  (two  hours  and 
three-quarters  after  the  attack  began),  the 
Anglo-Californian  makes : 

' '  Submarine  has  dived.   Submarine  has  dived. ' ' 
Answer :  "  Report  her  trail  at  intervals." 
A.-C. :    "I  hope  she  stops  down  there,  it  is 
getting  hot  here,"  and  after  some  remarks  as  to 
position, 

Answer :  "  Have  you  launched  all  boats  ?  " 
A.-C. :   "  Yes.     Two  ships  coming,  one  abeam 
and  one  at  the  port  quarter.    Don't  worry,  he 
has  gone  dipped." 


28    THE   MERCHANT   SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

Answer :   "  Has  submarine  gone  ?  " 

A.-C.:   "Yes." 

It  was  now  11.42  in  the  forenoon,  or  four  hours 
since  the  attack  had  opened.  What  had  been 
happening  during  that  time  outside  the  wireless 
room  ? 

At  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  master, 
an  experienced  seaman  of  fifty-seven,  was  on 
the  bridge,  whence  he  sighted  a  submarine  on 
the  port  beam.  She  flew  no  colours  and  was 
proceeding  on  the  surface.  The  master  instantly 
altered  course  in  order  to  place  the  submarine 
astern  of  the  Anglo-Californian,  telegraphed  an 
order  to  the  engine-room  to  increase  speed,  and 
told  our  friend  the  wireless  operator  to  send  out 
the  S.O.S.  signal.  As  it  was  answered  by  a 
man-of-war,  the  master  knew  thenceforth  that 
if  he  could  hold  on  long  enough  he  could  save 
his  ship  and  his  very  valuable  Government 
cargo.  Altering  course  continually,  he  kept  the 
submarine  manoeuvring  for  an  hour ;  but  the 
enemy  was  gaining  on  the  ship,  and  at  nine 
o'clock  the  submarine  opened  fire.  She 
mounted  a  gun  forward  of  her  conning-tower 
and  a  second  gun  of  another  calibre  aft  of  the 
conning-tower. 

During  the  next  half-hour  men  were  being 
hit,  there  was  blood  on  the  decks,  the  ship  was 
frequently  struck,  and  splinters  were  flying.  As 
the  submarine  manoeuvred  to  get  into  position 
to  fire  a  torpedo  the  master  of  the  Anglo-Cali- 
fornian twisted  his  ship  away.  As  a  fencer 
watches  the  blade  of  his  antagonist,  so  the 
master  fixed  his  gaze  on  the  low  hull,  the  figures 


THE  LAST  CHANCE  29 

of  the  officer  and  helmsman  on  the  railed  conning- 
tower,  the  gunners  and  the  men  firing  rifles  from 
the  deck,  all  wreathed  with  smoke,  implacably 
determined  to  take  his  ship. 

Then  the  submarine  hoisted  the  signal  A.B., 
"  Abandon  ship."  It  was  at  this  moment  that 
the  wireless  operator  signalled  "  Hurry,  hurry, 
hurry.  He  is  getting  abeam  to  torpedo  us."  It 
appears  that  the  submarine  continued  to  fire 
without  cessation,  while  the  master  ordered  the 
engines  to  be  stopped  and  the  boats  to  be  got 
away.  It  is  certain  that  the  crew,  getting  into 
the  boats  and  hauling  upon  the  falls,  were  fired 
on  ;  that  when  the  boats  were  in  the  water  one 
was  fired  on;  and  that, in  the  stress  and  confusion, 
both  boats  were  capsized.  Then  the  submarine 
stopped  firing. 

At  the  same  moment  the  smoke  of  one  of  the 
pursuing  men-of-war  darkened  on  the  horizon, 
and  projectiles  fired  at  extreme  range  made 
fountains  about  the  submarine,  and  then  it  was 
that  the  wireless  operator  received  a  message 
from  another  man-of-war  telling  the  Anglo- 
Californian  to  hold  on. 

At  this  the  master  resolved  to  make  a  last 
effort  to  save  his  ship.  In  the  water  alongside 
the  men  had  righted  the  boats,  and  were  ready 
to  shove  off,  when  the  master  ordered  them  to 
return  to  the  ship.  At  first  the  firemen,  who  had 
been  desperately  heaving  coal  below,  living  from 
minute  to  minute,  for  more  than  two  hours, 
hung  in  the  wind,  but  they  came  on  board  and 
went  below  again,  and  once  more  hove  coal  into 
the  furnaces.  The  engines  were  started,  and  as 


30    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

the  ship  gathered  way  the  submarine  opened  fire, 
aiming  at  the  bridge  and  the  boats. 

The  master's  son,  who  was  second  officer,  was 
standing  beside  his  father  on  the  bridge  when  a 
stunning  shock  flung  him  upon  the  deck,  and 
when  he  staggered  to  his  feet,  the  master  was 
not  there.  He  had  been  blown  to  pieces.  The 
young  man  seized  the  wheel ;  the  next  moment 
a  shot  smashed  a  spoke ;  but  he  hung  on,  and 
never  stirred  from  his  post  until  the  rescue. 
The  first  officer  took  command,  and  presently 
two  men-of-war  hove  in  sight  and  the  submarine 
dived.  It  was  then  about  half  an  hour  since  the 
submarine  had  signalled  "  Abandon  ship." 

The  master  and  eight  men  had  been  killed, 
and  seven  men  had  been  wounded.  But  they 
had  saved  the  ship.  The  master  saved  her  by 
taking  the  last  desperate  chance,  but  himself 
he  did  not  save. 

The  Anglo-Californian  was  escorted  into  the 
nearest  port  by  the  men-of-war,  and  after 
temporary  repairs  had  been  executed,  she  pro- 
ceeded upon  her  voyage. 


V 
SMALL  GAME 

THE  little  steamship  Downshire  was]f small 
game,  but  the  Germans  are  nothing '  if  not 
thorough.  The  case  illustrates  to  what  extent, 
in  these  early  stages  of  the  war,  the  master  felt 
he  could  act  on  his  own  responsibility.  He  went 
as  far  as  he  could.  The  German  officer,  although, 
in  sinking  the  Downshire,  he  was  committing 
an  act  of  piracy,  behaved  with  courtesy  and 
consideration,  and  spoke  "  in  perfect  English." 

The  Downshire  left  an  Irish  port  early  in  the 
afternoon  of  February  20th,  1915,  and  by  half- 
past  five,  in  a  clear  and  calm  twilight,  she  was 
eight  or  ten  miles  from  the  English  coast,  steaming 
at  about  nine  knots,  when  the  master  perceived 
a  submarine.  The  enemy  vessel  was  running 
on  the  surface,  nearly  two  miles  away  on  the 
starboard  bow,  and  heading  for  the  Downshire. 

The  master  instantly  altered  course  to  bring 
the  submarine  astern  of  the  Downshire,  ordered 
full  speed,  and  roused  out  all  the  men,  ten  in 
number.  The  submarine  also  altered  course 
and  began  to  chase,  rapidly  overhauling  the 


82   THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

Downshire.  At  a  range  of  about  400  yards  the 
submarine  opened  fire  from  the  machine-gun 
mounted  on  her  deck. 

Here  was  a  pretty  situation  for  the  peaceful 
master  of  a  little  coasting  trader.  He  kept  his 
wits  about  him  and  his  eyes  on  the  enemy  ;  and, 
continuing  to  manoeuvre  his  ship  to  put  the 
submarine  astern,  swiftly  reckoned  his  chances. 
People  think,  not  in  words,  but  in  pictures,  dim 
or  clear.  The  sharper  the  emergency,  the  more 
vivid  the  picture.  The  master,  never  shifting 
his  steady  seaman's  gaze  from  the  submarine 
gaining  hand  over  hand  astern,  beheld  with  his 
inward  eye  the  pieces  of  his  problem  sliding 
together  and  slipping  apart  again  as  he  bent  his 
mind  to  fit  them  to  a  pattern. 

He  foresaw  the  submarine,  with  her  turn  of 
speed,  drawing  so  close  alongside  that,  as  the 
machine-gun  crackled  and  spat,  his  men  would 
be  struck  down  ;  he  foresaw  the  long  fifteen  miles 
to  the  nearest  port,  partly  as  measured  on  the 
thumb-stained  chart,  partly  as  a  seascape  of 
deep  water,  in  which  the  submarine  could  venture 
all  the  way,  knowing  that  she  could  safely 
submerge  at  any  moment ;  he  foresaw  his 
ship,  shoving  for  safety  under  continued  fire 
for  an  hour  and  a  half,  splinters  flying,  men 
rolled  on  the  deck ;  he  may  even  have  seen 
himself,  crumpled  up  beside  the  wheel,  and  a 
darting  vision  of  the  ship  being  taken  after  all ; 
he  imagined  the  coiling  track  of  a  torpedo 
whitening  towards  him,  and  foretasted  the 
ultimate  explosion;  and  at  the  same  moment 
he  reckoned  the  chance  of  the  torpedo  striking 


SMALL  GAME  33 

a  hull  drawing  four  feet  six  inches  forward  and 
ten  feet  six  inches  aft,  and  perceived  that  the 
torpedo  might  pass  under  the  keel,  and  also  that 
it  might  not.  .  .  . 

In  the  meantime  the  submarine  was  still 
gaining  on  the  Downshire.  She  fired  a  second 
shot.  The  master,  with  his  problem  now  resolved 
into  a  grim  pattern  whose  significance  was 
imperative  and  inexorable,  may  or  may  not  have 
considered  the  possibility  of  ramming  the  sub- 
marine. He  had  no  instructions  on  the  subject. 
But  if  he  did  consider  that  possibility,  he  must 
also  have  foreseen  that  if  he  failed  in  the  attempt, 
the  submarine  would  certainly  try  to  torpedo 
him.  If  the  torpedo  hit,  all  was  over.  If  it 
missed,  the  enemy  would  give  no  quarter. 

The  submarine  fired  a  third  shot  at  close 
range.  That  settled  it.  The  master  had  held 
on  as  long  as  he  could.  Utterly  defenceless  as 
he  was,  he  had  not  yielded  at  the  first  shot,  nor 
the  second,  nor  until  he  saw  that  the  submarine 
had  the  speed  of  him.  He  stopped  the  engines. 
The  Downshire  drifted  on,  losing  speed,  and  lay 
rolling  slightly,  while  the  submarine,  drawing  up 
to  within  fifty  yards  of  the  port  quarter,  stopped 
also. 

The  Downshire' s  firemen,  who  had  been  furi- 
ously heaving  coal,  momently  expecting  the 
next  shot  to  crash  into  the  engine-room  and 
very  likely  cut  the  main  steampipe,  came  on 
deck,  black,  sweating  and  sullen. 

The  German  submarine  officer,  addressing  the 
Downshire  "  in  perfect  English  "  from  his  conning- 
tower,  courteously  issued  his  orders.  The  crew 


34    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

of  the  Downskire  were  to  take  to  their  boats,  and 
the  master  was  to  bring  the  ship's  papers  to  the 
submarine.  (They  could  have  given  small 
satisfaction  to  the  German,  for  the  Downshire's 
sole  cargo  was  five  tons  of  empty  cement  bags.) 

Even  at  this  period  of  the  war  British  seamen 
knew  enough  of  the  German  officer  to  know  that 
his  temper  was  about  as  calculable  as  the  temper 
of  a  tiger.  The  crew  of  the  Downshire  launched 
their  two  lifeboats,  pulled  towards  the  submarine, 
and  stared,  composed  and  curious,  at  the  strange 
vessel  and  the  foreign  officer.  That  personage 
was  decisive  but  urbane.  He  regretted  the 
necessity  of  his  action,  which,  he  said,  was  due 
to  the  exigencies  of  war.  One  boat  he  ordered 
to  pull  to  windward.  The  other  boat,  in  which 
was  the  master,  was  ordered  alongside  the 
submarine.  The  master  and  the  boat's  crew  were 
taken  on  board,  where  they  scrutinised  the  white 
faces  and  the  stiff  over-trained  figures  of  the 
German  bluejackets.  Then  the  submarine  officer 
ordered  the  second  officer  and  the  steward  of 
the  Downshire  back  into  their  boat,  telling  them 
to  get  provisions  for  the  Downshire's  men. 
Five  men  of  the  submarine's  crew  pulled  the 
boat  to  the  Downshire,  and  while  the  second 
officer  and  the  steward  were  fetching  provisions 
from  below  and  placing  them  in  the  boat,  the 
Germans  were  occupied  in  fixing  a  bomb  under 
the  Downshire. 

These  proceedings  were  watched  in  an  absorbed 
silence  by  the  master  and  the  Downshire *s  men 
in  the  submarine,  and  by  the  men  in  the  second 
lifeboat,  standing  off  at  a  little  distance.  It 


SMALL  GAME  35 

was  the  execution  of  their  ship  they  were  contem- 
plating. By  this  time  it  was  evident  that  no 
harm  to  themselves  was  intended. 

The  first  lifeboat,  stocked  with  gear  and 
provisions,  returned  to  the  submarine.  The 
Germans  went  on  board,  the  master  and  the 
rest  of  his  men  embarked  again,  shoved  off,  and 
pulled  away  to  join  the  second  lifeboat,  while 
the  submarine  got  under  way,  drew  further  from 
the  ship,  stopped  again,  and  waited. 

The  men  of  the  Downshire  rowed  away  into 
the  gathering  darkness,  and  the  submarine  faded 
out  of  sight,  and  the  form  of  the  lonely  ship 
grew  blurred  and  dim.  There  was  a  flash  of 
fire,  the  sound  of  a  dull  explosion  rolled  across 
the  water,  the  distant  ship  plunged  bows  under 
and  vanished. 

It  was  then  six  o'clock.  The  whole  episode 
had  lasted  half  an  hour.  Within  the  next  half- 
hour  the  Downshires  were  picked  up  by  two  steam 
drifters. 

The  treatment  by  the  German  officer  of  the 
officers  and  men  of  the  Downshire  shines  by 
contrast  with  the  conduct  of  some  of  his  col- 
leagues. That  circumstance  does  not  alter  the 
fact  that,  in  destroying  the  ship  and  in  setting 
her  people  adrift,  he  violated  the  law  of  the  sea. 


D  2 


VI 
"WHEKE   IS   '  HAEPALION  '  ?  " 

IT  was  tea-time  on  board  the  steamship 
Harpalion  proceeding  up  the  Channel,  bound 
for  the  United  States.  The  third  officer  went 
to  the  bridge,  the  master  and  the  Trinity  House 
pilot  went  down  to  the  master's  cabin  to  tea. 
The  second  officer  sat  at  tea  with  the  engineers, 
and  here  follows  his  account  of  what  happened. 

"  We  had  just  sat  down  to  tea  at  the  engineers' 
table,  and  the  chief  engineer  was  saying  '  Grace.' 
He  had  just  uttered  the  words  '  For  what  we 
are  about  to  receive  may  the  Lord  make  us  truly 
thankful,'  when  there  came  an  awful  crash.  I 
never  saw  such  a  smash  as  it  caused.  Cups  and 
dishes  were  shattered  to  pieces,  everything  in 
the  pantry  was  broken,  and  photographs  screwed 
into  the  walls  fell  ofi." 

So  the  second  officer  told  The  Times,  from 
whose  issue  of  February  25th,  1915,  the  passage 
is  quoted.  Such  was  the  event  inside  the  ship. 
Now  let  us  look  at  it  from  outside,  from  the 
bridge  of  a  distant  man-of-war.  Her  com- 
manding officer,  watching  the  Harpalion  afar 
off,  saw  a  column  of  water  leap  alongside  her, 


"WHERE   IS   'HARPALION'  ?"         37 

then  another,  and  heard  the  dull  boom  of  an 
explosion,  like  the  slamming  of  a  heavy  door  in 
a  vault,  instantly  followed  by  a  second  boom. 
He  ordered  full  speed  and  steamed  towards  the 
Harpalion. 

On  board  her,  master,  pilot,  officers  and  crew 
had  all  tumbled  up  on  deck,  where,  in  a  fog  of 
steam  and  smoke,  they  were  just  in  time  to 
receive  the  descending  fountain  of  the  second 
explosion.  The  ship  listed  to  port  and  began  to 
settle  by  the  head  ;  it  was  reported  to  the  master 
that  three  firemen  had  been  killed  below ;  and 
he  saw  to  seaward  the  periscope  of  a  submarine. 
He  also  beheld  the  comfortable  spectacle  of  a 
King's  ship  tearing  towards  him  with  a  bone  in 
her  mouth. 

The  master  ordered  the  boats  to  be  got  away. 
One  was  already  in  the  water,  filled  with  men, 
by  the  time  the  man-of-war  drew  close 
alongside.  Her  commanding  officer  hailed  the 
master,  who  instantly  informed  the  naval  officer 
of  the  presence  of  an  enemy  submarine.  The 
naval  officer  assumed  the  conduct  of  affairs. 
He  ordered  the  boat's  crew  then  afloat  to  stand 
by  to  help  save  the  rest  of  the  crew  ;  and  immedi- 
ately started  in  pursuit  of  the  submarine,  cruising 
at  high  speed  about  the  Harpalion  while  her 
people  were  getting  into  the  boats.  Failing  to 
find  the  submarine,  the  man-of-war  returned, 
embarked  the  master,  the  pilot,  the  rest  of  the 
officers  and  the  crew,  thirty-nine  all  told,  and 
three  dead  men,  and  let  the  boats  drift. 

The  naval  officer  and  the  master  then  took 
counsel  together.  The  master  thought  the  ship 


38    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

was  sinking.  The  naval  officer  thought  she  was 
likely  to  keep  afloat,  but  that,  as  the  enemy 
submarine  was  probably  hanging  about,  it  would 
be  unsafe  to  leave  the  crew  in  the  Harpalion. 
It  was  therefore  decided  to  land  the  crew.  The 
naval  officer  signalled  to  the  nearest  naval 
station  asking  that  a  tug  should  be  sent,  and 
proposed  that  the  Harpalion  should  be  left 
anchored  with  lights  burning,  an  arrangement 
which  was  not,  in  fact,  carried  into  execution. 

The  man-of-war  went  on  to  the  nearest  naval 
station  and  landed  the  living  and  the  dead. 
She  then  reported  events  to  her  own  naval  station. 

The  ship  was  torpedoed  at  a  little  after  five 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  Wednesday,  February 
24th,  1915.  By  a  quarter  to  six  she  was  aban- 
doned. For  nearly  twelve  hours  afterwards  the 
Harpalion  was  lost.  The  naval  officer  was  right ; 
she  was  not  sinking.  If  a  tug  was  sent  out  that 
evening  in  response  to  the  signal,  she  failed  to 
find  the  Harpalion. 

But  let  it  not  be  supposed  that  the  Admiralty 
allows  a  ship  to  disappear  without  explanation. 
That  evening  and  the  next  day,  Thursday,  the 
Admiralty  was  asking  every  naval  station  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  loss,  "  Where  is  Harpalion  ?  " 
Station  A  reported  trying  to  find  Harpalion, 
incidentally  reporting  at  the  same  time  that 
three  other  vessels  had  been  put  down.  Station  B 
reported  Harpalion  derelict,  anchored,  lights 
burning,  and  later,  "  Cannot  find,  but  search- 
ing." Station  C  replied,  "  Not  in  my  district." 

Where  was  Harpalion  ?  She  was  simply  drift- 
ing about,  masterless  and  miserable.  She  drifted 


"WHERE  IS  'HARPALION'?"         89 

from  5.45  p.m.  on  Wednesday  to  4  p.m.  on 
Thursday.  Then  she  was  sighted  by  the  steamship 
Ariel,  whose  master  promptly  sent  four  men  on 
board  to  investigate  matters.  It  was  clearly  a 
salvage  case ;  but  in  their  deposition  the  four 
gallant  seamen  say  simply,  "  We  four  men  got 
on  board  as  prize  crew/' 

To  be  precise,  a  prize  crew  is  a  crew  placed 
by  the  captor  on  board  a  vessel  captured  by  an 
act  of  war.  Salvage  is  another  affair.  Any  ship 
succouring  another  vessel,  derelict  or  wrecked, 
is  entitled  to  claim  reward  from  the  owners. 
In  the  case  of  the  Ariel  and  Harpalion,  it  would 
seem  that  the  men  of  the  Arid,  considering  their 
help  to  be  in  the  nature  of  war  service  rather 
than  a  commercial  transaction,  preferred  to 
call  themselves  a  prize  crew.  But  this  is  con- 
jecture, for  the  four  deponents,  appearing  for 
a  moment  in  the  light  of  history,  have  gone 
again.  There  were  the  first  officer  of  the  Arid, 
two  able  seamen  and  one  apprentice. 

They  boarded  the  deserted  Harpalion  on 
Thursday  afternoon,  and  their  own  ship,  the 
Ariel,  went  on  her  way  short-handed.  What 
they  did  next  is  not  revealed,  except  that  they 
tried  to  take  her  to  Cardiff.  Their  situation 
was  dangerous  enough.  The  ship  was  full  of 
water  forward,  and  listing  to  port.  At  any 
moment  a  questing  submarine  might  have  sent 
her  to  the  bottom  without  warning.  Presumably 
the  Prize  Crew  tried  to  get  steam  on  her,  but  there 
is  nothing  to  show  that  they  were  successful. 
If  they  failed,  the  ship  was  not  under  control. 
If  they  succeeded,  their  progress  must  have  been 


40    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

very  slow.  In  any  case,  there  were  only  four 
men,  instead  of  forty-one,  to  work  a  ship  of 
3,669  tons  register.  The  chief  officer  would  be 
on  the  bridge,  steering  and  conning  the  ship, 
one  able  seaman  in  the  stokehold,  one  in  the 
engine-room,  leaving  the  apprentice  for  services 
as  requisite,  such  as  getting  meals,  carrying 
messages,  and  doing  odd  jobs. 

The  full  story  of  that  night  on  board  the 
Harpalion  spent  by  the  prize  crew  adrift  in  a 
ship  which  they  believed  to  be  sinking,  remains 
to  be  told.  Perhaps  it  will  never  be  told,  like 
many  another  deed  of  the  sea. 

Early  on  the  Friday  morning  wind  and  sea 
began  to  rise.  The  Harpalion  was  then  within 
about  twenty  miles  of  the  spot  upon  which  she 
had  been  torpedoed.  The  ship  was  heavily 
water-logged ;  the  water  was  washing  in  and 
out  of  her,  and  the  chief  officer  was  unable  to 
keep  her  head  to  the  sea.  They  drifted  help- 
lessly before  the  gale  in  that  dark  and  bitter 
February  morning,  until  eight  o'clock,  the  hour 
at  which  all  over  the  world  the  white  ensign  is 
hoisted  in  the  quarter-deck  of  his  Majesty's 
ships.  And  at  that  hour  the  men  of  the  Harpalion 
descried  three  men-of-war  surging  toward  them 
through  the  smothering  sea.  Two  flew  the 
tricolour  and  one  the  white  ensign. 

The  British  torpedo-boat  drew  near  and  hove 
a  line  on  board  the  Harpalion.  The  prize  crew 
hauled  it  in,  hauled  in  a  grass  rope,  hauled  in  a 
hawser  and  made  it  fast,  and  the  little  torpedo- 
boat  began  to  tow  the  dead  weight  of  the  big 
cargo-boat.  The  weather  grew  worse,  and  the 


"WHERE  IS   'HARPALION'?"          41 

torpedo-boat,  unable  to  make  any  way,  was 
obliged  to  cast  off.  "  We  still  stuck  to  the 
Harpalion"  the  prize  crew  deposed.  They  stuck 
to  her  all  that  day,  in  wind  and  sea.  A  tug  came, 
but  so  heavy  was  the  weather  she  could  not  get 
the  Harpalion  in  tow,  and  so  stood  by  her.  Night 
came,  and  still  the  prize  crew  stuck  to  their 
prize.  Towards  midnight  the  ship  was  settling 
dangerously,  and  the  prize  crew  were  forced  to 
conclude  that  they  could  do  no  more.  At 
half-past  eleven  on  that  Friday  night  they  went 
over  the  side  into  their  boat,  left  the  Harpalion 
and  went  on  board  the  tug.  They  were  not  much 
too  soon.  Thirty-five  minutes  afterwards  the 
Harpalion  went  down. 

The  tug  landed  the  prize  crew  at  Havre,  where, 
before  the  vice-consul,  they  made  a  deposition 
of  the  shortest  recording  their  adventure,  and 
so  went  their  ways. 

All  that  Friday  the  unseen  eye  of  the  Admiralty 
had  been  bent  upon  the  Harpalion.  Naval 
station  D  having  reported  "  Cannot  find  Har- 
palion" naval  station  B  reported  "  Harpalion 
picked  up  by  Ariel"  and  later  "  Abandoned 
by  Ariel."  Naval  station  A  reported  "Harpalion 
being  towed." 

Finally,  on  Saturday,  Lloyd's  reported  "  Har- 
palion sunk."  But  she  had  floated  for  fifty- 
five  hours  after  having  been  torpedoed.  So 
the  naval  officer  was  right  in  his  estimate.  Of 
that  period,  she  was  twenty-three  hours  derelict, 
thirty-one-and-a-half  hours  in  charge  of  the 
prize  crew,  and  a  final  half-hour  again  derelict 
in  the  storm. 


VII 
NETSUKE 

THE  stress  of  the  long  vigil  was  ended.  No 
more  the  uneasy  ship  throbbed  through  the 
haunted  twilight  of  dusk  and  dawn,  the  eyes 
upon  her  deck  incessantly  roving  the  restless 
field  of  sea,  while  the  men  below  hearkened 
through  the  humming  of  the  furnaces  and  the 
beat  of  the  engines  for  the  fatal  detonation. 
All  that  fevered  life  was  past,  whelmed  in  the 
deep  sea.  There  were  left  a  profound  silence, 
an  immense  desolation. 

In  the  midst  thereof  a  small,  tawny  figure, 
naked  to  the  waist,  sat  cross-legged  on  a  little 
raft  of  wreckage,  one  tattooed  arm  clasping  a 
pole,  from  whose  top  the  flag  of  a  torn  garment 
flew  to  the  wind.  It  sat  as  motionless  as  the 
carved  ivory  it  wore  at  its  belt.  But  the  black 
eyes  of  the  Japanese  were  open,  scanning  the 
wide  sea-line. 

A  little  way  off,  now  hidden  by  a  wave  from 
the  eyes  of  the  Japanese,  now  revealed,  the  head 
and  shoulders  of  a  seaman  were  bowed  upon 
the  stump  of  a  broken  spar. 


NETSUKE  48 


Except  for  these  two  figures,  there  was  nothii 
save  broken  water  under  the  vast  grey  arch  of 
the  sky. 

The  two  castaways  had  passed  beyond  thought 
to  mere  endurance.  The  progress  of  time  was 
naught  save  an  intensifying  misery.  So  the  hours 
went  by,  and  still  the  Japanese  sat  cross-legged 
on  his  little  raft,  one  tattooed  arm  clasped  about 
the  pole,  his  flag  streaming  against  the  inexorable 
grey,  his  black  eyes  open,  staring  at  the  far 
sea-line  ;  while  a  little  way  off  the  seaman,  prone 
upon  his  spar,  rolled  and  tumbled  with  the 
swell. 

So  they  were  sighted  from  a  steamship ;  so 
rescued.  When  the  seaman  had  come  to  life 
again  he  said :  "  When  the  ship  was  struck  I 
see  the  little  Japanese  dive  clear  of  her.  After 
being  drawn  down  and  coming  up  again,  I  got 
hold  of  a  spar  and  hung  on  to  it ;  and  I  see  the 
little  Japanese  swimming  about  as  lively  as  a 
water-chick,  collecting  bits  of  wood,  gratings 
and  what-not.  As  he  got  each  piece  he  tied  it 
to  the  rest  with  some  line  he  had,  though  how  he 
got  it  I  couldn't  say  ;  and  swimming  on  his  raft, 
collected  more  pieces,  and  lashed  the  whole 
together  till  it  would  bear  his  weight.  Then  he 
steps  a  mast,  all  shipshape  and  Bristol-fashion, 
and  hoists  his  vest  for  a  signal  of  distress.  All 
this  time  he  looks  at  me  now  and  again  with  a 
smile.  I  told  him  not  to  mind  me,  as  I  could 
hang  on.  Then  he  sits  himself  in  the  midst  of 
his  raft  like  an  image.  Clever  thing  as  ever  I  see. 
He  deserved  to  be  saved  if  ever,  so  he  did,"  said 
the  British  seaman. 


44    THE   MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

The  little  Japanese  smiled  and  said  nothing. 

The  two  shipwrecked  men  were  landed  and 
were  taken  to  that  admirable  and  invaluable 
institution,  the  Home  of  the  British  and  Foreign 
Sailors'  Society.  The  seaman  signed  on  and 
departed  in  another  ship,  the  Japanese  remaining 
for  a  day  or  two.  To  him  came  the  wife  of  one 
of  the  seamen  who  had  been  on  board  the  lost 
ship  to  ask  for  news. 

The  little  Japanese  stood  before  the  anxious 
woman,  and  his  face  was  impassive,  except  his 
eyes,  and  his  hands  fluttered  like  birds. 

"  On  deck,"  said  the  little  Japanese,  "  captain 
— donkeyman — mate — seamen,  one,  two,  thlee." 
He  made  a  bridge  of  his  hands,  and  swiftly 
reversed  them.  "  Ship  so.  Captain — donkey- 
man— mate — seamen,  one,  two  thlee."  He  drew 
his  hand  across  his  throat,  which  clicked.  "  All 
gone."  He  pointed  downward.  "  Your  man 
too." 

The  woman  went  away.  The  little  Japanese 
went  to  sea. 


VIII 
THE   SOLE   SURVIVOR 

THE  steamship  Tangistan,  homeward  bound 
from  the  Mediterranean  laden  with  a  full  cargo 
of  iron  ore,  was  within  a  tide  of  her  port  of 
destination,  in  the  north.  There  had  been  no 
alarms  during  the  voyage  ;  no  enemy  submarine 
had  been  reported  during  her  passage  through 
home  waters;  and  merchant  seamen  in  those 
days  did  not  seem  to  regard  mines  as  a  real 
danger.  So  that  when  the  Irish  seaman  joined 
the  watch  below  at  midnight,  he  and  his  mates 
had  an  easy  mind.  The  Irishman,  instead  of 
turning  in,  lit  his  pipe  and,  sitting  on  the  edge 
of  his  bunk,  joined  in  the  talk,  which  ran  on 
what  they  would  do  when  the  ship  fetched  up 
in  port  next  day.  Seamen  seldom  talk  about 
the  sea  if  they  can  help  it.  They  look  backward 
to  the  last  spell  on  shore,  and  forward  to  the 
next,  where,  with  a  pocketful  of  pay,  they  can 
buy  the  earth  for  a  day  or  two,  or  even  (with 
luck)  for  a  week. 

So  the  watch  below  sat  and  gossiped  in  the 
hot,  dense  reek  of  the  cabin,  where  the  electric 


45 


46    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

light  was  hued  with  tobacco  smoke,  and  the 
oilskins  hanging  on  the  bulkhead  swayed  to 
and  fro  as  the  vessel  rolled  at  slow  speed. 

"  Suddenly  the  ship  was  brought  up  with  a 
great  shock  as  if  she  had  struck  a  rock,  and  her 
lights  were  immediately  extinguished."  So  said 
the  Irish  seaman,  afterwards. 

With  the  rest  of  the  men  he  ran  up  on  deck, 
which  was  sinking  beneath  his  feet.  There  was 
a  swift  and  orderly  movement  in  the  dark,  and 
orders  were  being  shouted  from  the  bridge. 
The  Irishman  went  directly  to  his  station  at  the 
port  lifeboat,  slung  a  lifebelt  over  his  head,  and 
unloosed  one  of  the  falls  ready  to  lower  away. 
Two  men  got  into  the  boat ;  a  third  seaman 
and  the  Irishman  lowered  her ;  and  the  next 
thing  the  Irishman  knew,  the  solid  ship  drew 
him  bodily  downwards  and  an  immense  weight 
of  icy  water  closed  over  him.  The  Irishman, 
holding  his  breath,  swam  desperately  upwards. 
He  thought  he  would  burst ;  he  thought  he 
would  never  prevail ;  he  thought  he  would  die  ; 
and  then,  with  a  sob,  he  clove  the  surface,  and 
trod  water,  panting.  Then  he  arranged  his 
lifebelt  properly  under  his  arms,  saw  a  bulk  of 
wreckage  floating,  swam  to  it,  got  his  leg  over 
it,  and  so  remained.  Harsh  cries  rang  through 
the  dark,  and  the  Irishman  recognised  the 
voices  and  lingo  of  the  Arab  firemen,  and  at  a 
little  distance  he  saw  four  of  them  clinging,  like 
himself,  to  some  wreckage.  The  ship  was  gone. 
Of  all  her  people,  himself  and  the  four  firemen 
were  left  alive. 

The  Irishman,  clasping  his  spar  and  heaving 


THE   SOLE   SURVIVOR  47 

up  and  down  on  the  long  swell,  felt  the  cold 
turning  his  very  bones  to  ice.  He  had  no  idea 
how  long  it  would  be  before  he  was  numbed  into 
unconsciousness,  when  his  hold  would  be  loosed 
and  he  would  be  drowned  ;  but  it  seemed  to  him 
that  he  would  last  longer  than  the  four  unhappy 
children  of  the  sun  who  were  crying  yonder.  He 
cried  out  likewise,  at  the  full  pitch  of  his  voice, 
and  very  likely  the  exertion  helped  to  keep  him 
going.  But  his  hails  sounded  in  his  own  ears 
little  as  the  whining  of  a  sea-gull,  and  wholly 
impotent  to  travel  in  the  great  vault  of  night 
and  tossing  sea.  Still  he  called  aloud,  for  he 
was  in  the  track  of  steamers. 

And  presently  he  saw  a  steamer.  She  carried 
no  lights,  but  he  descried  her  form,  a  darker 
shape  upon  the  sea  and  sky,  and  saw  the  sparks 
volley  from  her  funnel. 

He  shrieked  till  his  voice  broke,  but  the 
steamer  went  on  and  vanished.  The  Irishman 
was  furiously  enraged ;  but  it  was  of  no  use  to 
be  angry.  He  went  on  calling.  So  did  the  other 
four  castaways,  but  their  cries  were  growing 
fainter  and  less  frequent. 

Then  there  loomed  another  steamer,  and  she, 
too,  went  on.  It  seemed  to  the  Irishman  that 
he  was  doomed ;  but  he  went  on  calling.  An 
Irishman  dies  hard.  By  this  time  perhaps  an 
hour  had  gone  by,  and  the  Arab  firemen  had 
fallen  silent.  The  Irishman  could  see  them  no 
longer.  He  never  saw  them  again. 

A  third  steamer  hove  in  sight,  and  she,  too, 
went  on. 

The  Irishman  cursed  her  with  the  passionate 


48    THE   MERCHANT   SEAMAN  IN   WAR 

intensity  peculiar  to  the  seaihan,  and  went  on 
calling.  It  was  a  desperate  business  now ;  he 
could  not  last  much  longer ;  but  he  would  not 
be  "  bet,"  as  he  called  it. 

Then  a  fourth  steamer  came  towering  upon 
the  night,  and  the  Irishman  bellowed  like  a  bull. 
Did  she  hear  ?  Not  she — not  listening — not 
caring — not  likely.  No — Yes  !  She  was  slowing 
down.  There  was  an  answering  hail.  Stopping. 
Stopped.  Away  boat. 

Crying  and  calling,  the  Irishman  sat  on  his 
spar,  and  heard  the  grunt  of  the  oars  in  the 
rowlocks,  and  saw  the  sweep  of  the  blades  and 
the  dim  foam,  and  then  faces  bending  over  him 
with  kindly  speech,  and  he  was  hauled  into  the 
blessed  boat  and  into  life.  He  had  been  in  the 
water  for  two  hours  and  ten  minutes.  Dip  your 
hand  in  next  time  you  are  on  the  North  Sea  in 
winter,  and  see  what  it  feels  like. 

And  next  day  he  was  in  port,  as  he  had 
anticipated ;  except  that  he  had  nothing  in  the 
world  but  the  borrowed  suit  of  clothes  he  wore, 
and  the  borrowed  boots  in  which  he  trod  the 
familiar  pavement  on  the  way  to  the  Sailors' 
Home. 


IX 

ACCORDING   TO   INSTRUCTIONS 

THE  master  of  the  steamship  Headlands, 
which  was  entering  the  western  approaches  of 
the  Channel,  descried  a  burning  ship.  She  lay 
about  five  miles  distant  to  the  eastward,  and  a 
thick  smoke  ascended  from  the  forward  part  of 
her.  The  master,  obeying  the  custom  of  the 
sea,  despite  of  peril  of  mine  and  submarine, 
altered  course  to  go  to  the  assistance  of  the 
ship  overtaken  by  disaster. 

It  was  then  nine  o'clock  of  a  fine  clear  day, 
Friday,  March  12th,  1915.  Ere  twenty  minutes 
had  gone  by,  the  master  saw  the  conning-tower 
and  masts  of  a  submarine,  which  was  then  some 
three  miles  away,  and  which  was  heading  south, 
towards  the  Headlands.  And  then  he  saw,  further 
away,  a  little  patrol  boat  heading  for  the  sub- 
marine, saw  the  flash  of  guns,  and  heard  the 
distant  clap  of  their  explosion,  as  the  patrol 
boat  fired  at  long  range  on  the  submarine. 

The  master  immediately  perceived  several 
things  at  once.  He  perceived  that  in  all  proba- 
bility the  burning  vessel  had  been  set  on  fire  by 
the  submarine  ;  that  the  patrol  boat  was  attend- 


50   THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

ing  to  the  submarine ,  and  that  the  Headlands 
had  run  into  an  affair  from  which  the  sooner  she 
departed  the  better.  So  the  master  put  his  helm 
hard  a-starboard  and  steered  for  the  majestic 
lighthouse  which  towers,  a  white  policeman  with 
a  lantern,  at  the  sea-turning  to  the  port. 

The  Headlands  was  shoving  along  as  fast  as 
she  could  go,  when  the  master  saw  that  the 
submarine  was  slashing  along  on  the  surface 
so  fast  that  the  patrol  boat  was  being  left  far 
astern,  and  also  that  the  submarine  was  catching 
up  the  Headlands.  The  master,  like  other 
masters  since,  had  occasion  to  reflect  what 
happens  when  you  leave  your  course  to  help  a 
friend  in  trouble.  Also  he  had  time  to  frame 
his  plan  of  action. 

He  decided  to  run  for  it,  to  hold  on,  and  to 
force  the  submarine  to  expend  a  torpedo  before 
he  surrendered.  It  might  miss  him.  If  it  hit, 
that  could  not  be  helped.  He  wished  the  ship's 
bottom  had  been  clean,  when  he  could  have  got 
another  two  knots  out  of  her.  The  submarine 
continued  to  gain  on  the  Headlands. 

The  master  went  below,  unlocked  all  his 
confidential  papers,  and  burned  them  in  the 
cabin  stove,  took  his  hand  camera,  and  returned 
to  the  bridge. 

The  chase  had  begun  at  about  twenty  minutes 
to  ten,  and  after  about  half  an  hour  the  sub- 
marine was  within  speaking  distance  astern, 
and  her  commanding  officer  was  hailing  the 
Headlands  to  stop.  The  master  made  no  reply. 
He  read  the  number  of  the  submarine—  :<  U  29  " 
— and  then  he  knew  he  was  being  chased  by  the 


ACCORDING  TO  INSTRUCTIONS        51 

notorious  Captain  Otto  Weddingen,  who  (it  was 
believed)  had  sunk  the  armoured  cruisers  Aboukir, 
Cressy  and  Hague.  The  master  took  a  photo- 
graph of  "  U  29,"  which  vessel,  he  afterwards 
reported,  was  "  of  the  latest  type." 

Captain  Otto  Weddingen  told  the  master 
that  he  would  sink  him  in  five  minutes.  The 
master,  still  disdaining  to  reply,  ordered  the 
crew  to  get  their  gear  together,  and  held  on  his 
course. 

At  10.25  the  submarine  fired  a  torpedo.  It 
struck  the  Headlands  abaft  the  engine-room,  and 
she  began  to  settle  down.  The  submarine 
instantly  went  about  and  made  off  at  full  speed. 

The  people  of  the  Headlands  took  to  their 
boats,  whence  they  perceived,  far  away,  patrol 
vessels  which  were  apparently  hunting  the 
"U  29."  Half  an  hour  later  the  boats  were 
taken  in  tow  by  patrols,  which  landed  them  in 
port  at  two  o'clock  that  afternoon. 

In  the  meantime  the  submarine  had  sped  over 
twenty  miles  to  the  westward  and  had  sunk 
another  ship.  The  vessel  to  whose  assistance  the 
master  of  the  Headlands  had  been  going  was  still 
burning.  She  was  the  Indian  City,  and  she  sank 
during  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day.  The 
Headlands  was  still  settling  down.  A  steamer 
from  the  port  went  out  to  her,  and  had  towed 
her  to  within  a  mile  of  the  lighthouse  she  had 
failed  to  reach  when,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the 
evening,  down  she  went. 

Here  is  the  master's  (unofficial)  comment, 
which  I  am  permitted  to  quote  : 

"  I  am  naturally  sorry  that  the  old  Headlands 

E  2 


52    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

has  gone,  the  more  so  as  I  have  lost  something 
like  £150  in  stores  and  personal  effects.  Still, 
I  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  to  the 
last  minute  we  did  all  possible  to  avoid  capture 
by  carrying  out  the  stipulated  Admiralty  instruc- 
tions." 

As  for  the  "  U  29,"  a  fortnight  later  she  was 
reported  by  the  British  Admiralty  as  having 
been  sunk  with  all  hands. 

Had  the  master  of  the  Headlands  been  provided 
with  a  gun,  he  would  have  had  another  story  to 
tell ;  such  a  story,  for  instance,  as  the  record 
of  the  little  steamship  Atalanta. 

On  a  wild  autumn  morning  in  the  following 
year  the  Atalanta  was  pounding  up  the  Channel 
against  a  full  north-westerly  gale,  when  the 
master  descried  a  boat,  now  swung  to  the  crest 
of  a  wave,  the  crew  pulling  steadily,  now 
swallowed  up  from  view.  The  master  altered 
course  to  pick  up  the  castaways,  and  manoeuvred 
the  steamship  to  put  the  boat  under  her  lee. 
A  rope  was  flung  to  the  men,  and  they  climbed 
on  board,  eleven  French  seamen  from  the  sailing 
ship  Marechal  de  Villars,  which  had  been  sunk 
by  an  enemy  submarine. 

The  Frenchmen  were  rescued  at  about  ten 
o'clock  on  the  morning  of  September  llth,  1916. 
Three-quarters  of  an  hour  later  the  master 
sighted  a  German  submarine.  Her  square, 
slate-coloured  conning-tower,  rounded  at  the 
fore-end,  was  forging  through  the  breaking  sea, 
off  the  starboard  bow  of  the  Atalanta^  between 
two  and  three  miles  distant  from  her. 

The  master  of  the  Atalanta  altered  course  to 


ACCORDING  TO  INSTRUCTIONS        53 

put  the  submarine  astern,  ordered  full  speed,  and 
posted  the  gun's  crew  at  the  gun  mounted  on 
the  quarter. 

The  submarine  fired.  The  range  was  about 
5,000  yards,  and  the  shot  struck  the  sea  short  of 
the  Atalanta.  The  submarine  fired  again,  and 
again  the  projectile  fell  short.  The  range  had 
decreased  to  about  4,000  yards,  and  the  Atalanta 
fired  at  the  submarine,  the  shot  falling  short  of 
her.  After  an  interval  of  five  minutes  the  enemy 
fired  again,  and  the  Atalanta  courteously  replied. 
There  was  a  third  exchange,  and  then  the 
submarine,  with  a  parting  shot,  went  about  and 
headed  for  a  steamei;  then  visible  on  the  horizon. 
The  Atalanta  went  on  her  way.  On  this  occasion 
three  rounds  sufficed  to  discourage  the  enemy. 


X 

THE   "  LUSITANIA." 

THE  fact  seems  to  be  that,  in  spite  of  their 
threats,  no  one  really  believed  the  Germans 
would  put  down  the  Lusitania.  According  to 
the  evidence  of  surviving  passengers,  the  twelve 
hundred  passengers  felt  little  apprehension. 
Either  they  had  not  heard  of  the  warnings 
before  coming  on  board,  or,  having  heard  these 
rumours,  they  thought  nothing  of  them,  and, 
in  any  case,  they  relied  for  their  safety  upon 
the  speed  of  the  vessel  and  the  protection,  upon 
approaching  British  shores,  of  British  men-of- 
war.  Thus,  when  the  passengers  went  to  lunch 
on  Friday,  May  7th,  1915,  the  south  coast 
of  Ireland  being  then  in  sight,  all  was  as 
usual.  So,  at  least,  it  appears ;  for  the 
evidence  of  a  few  out  of  so  many  cannot  be 
conclusive. 

The  purpose  of  the  following  narrative  is 
neither  to  record  the  technical  aspect  of  the 
event  nor  to  depict  its  horror,  but  to  exemplify 
the  conduct  of  officers  and  men,  in  so  far  as  it 
can  be  ascertained.  Nor  is  it  part  of  the  author's 


THE   "  LUSITANIA  "  55 

business  to  reflect  upon  the  crime  of  the  Germans, 
which  in  this  case  differed  only  in  degree  and 
not  in  kind  from  other  murders,  and  which  will 
bring  its  own  punishment  in  due  time. 

At  two  o'clock  on  that  Friday  afternoon  a 
couple  of  able  seamen  went  up  to  relieve  the 
men  keeping  a  look-out  in  the  crow's-nest 
on  the  foremast.  One  took  the  port  side,  the 
other  the  starboard  side. 

The  man  on  the  port  side  scanned  the  smooth 
bright  sea  and  marked  the  coloured  cliffs  of  the 
Irish  coast  showing  through  the  haze.  The  man 
on  the  starboard  side  saw  the  field  of  water 
stretching  clear  to  the  horizon,  with  here  and 
there  a  distant  boat. 

Said  port  to  starboard,  "  Anything  in  sight  ?  " 

To  which  starboard  replied,  "  Nothing  doing." 

There  was  a  few  minutes'  silence.  Then 
starboard  said  to  port : 

"  Good  God,  Frank,  here's  a  torpedo  !  "  And 
he  shouted  to  the  bridge  below  with  all  his 
strength. 

^  Port,  turning  to  his  mate's  side,  perceived  a 
white  track  lengthening  swiftly  from  a  spot 
some  two  hundred  yards  away  from  the  ship. 
The  next  moment  came  an  order  from  the 
bridge  :  "  All  hands  to  boat  stations,"  and  the 
men  went  down. 

When  the  A.B.  told  his  mate  there  was  a 
torpedo  coming,  the  master,  standing  outside 
the  door  of  his  room  on  the  A  deck,  also  saw  the 
white  track.  The  quartermaster  at  the  wheel 
heard  the  second  officer  sing  out,  "  Here  is  a 
torpedo."  An  able  seaman  on  the  saloon  deck, 


56    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

looking  through  the  port,  saw  a  ripple  on  the 
water  about  300  yards  distant,  then  the  white 
track,  and  then  he  saw  the  torpedo  itself,  and 
cried  out  a  warning.  Three  passengers,  standing 
on  the  upper  deck  aft,  and  gazing  out  to  sea,  saw 
what  they  described  as  something  like  a  whale 
or  a  porpoise  rising  out  of  the  sea  about  three- 
quarters  of  a  mile  away,  leaving  a  little  trail  of 
white  bubbles.  Then  from  that  object  they  saw 
a  white  track  heading  towards  them.  At  first 
no  one  spoke,  though  all  had  the  same  thought. 
Then  one  said,  "  Looks  like  a  torpedo,"  and 
another  said,  "  My  God,  it  is  a  torpedo."  The 
white  track,  drawing  nearer  to  the  ship,  was 
hidden  from  the  sight  of  the  passengers  on  the 
upper  deck  high  above  the  water,  and  they  said 
that  for  a  second  they  had  a  kind  of  hope  it 
would  not  explode. 

Another  passenger  saw  a  streak  of  white,  as 
if  made  on  the  water  by  the  tail  of  a  fish,  and 
then  he  saw  a  periscope.  A  woman  said  to  him 
lightly,  "  It  looks  like  a  torpedo  coming." 

The  next  moment  another  passenger,  leaning 
over  the  rail,  actually  saw  the  torpedo  strike  the 
hull  between  the  third  and  fourth  funnels.  He 
said  the  sound  of  the  explosion  was  like  a  heavy 
door  slammed  by  the  wind. 

The  master,  standing  outside  his  room,  was 
flung  to  the  deck  by  the  shock,  and,  picking 
himself  up,  ran  to  the  navigation  bridge.  As 
he  ran  he  felt  a  second  explosion.  The  ship  was 
already  listing  to  starboard.  The  master  ordered 
all  hands  to  the  boats,  signalled  to  the  engine- 
room  a  preconcerted  signal,  but  there  was  no 


THE   "LUSITANIA"  57 

answering  movement  of  the  ship.  The  master 
told  the  quartermaster  to  put  his  helm  hard 
a-starboard.  The  quartermaster  reported  hard 
a-starboard.  The  master  said,  "  All  right,  boy," 
and  told  the  second  officer  to  note  what  list 
the  vessel  had,  and  the  quartermaster  to  keep 
her  head  on  Kinsale.  It  was  the  right  seaman's 
resource  to  try  to  beach  her. 

The  first  officer  was  seated  at  lunch  in  the 
saloon  when  the  torpedo  struck.  He  ordered  all 
the  starboard  ports  to  be  closed,  and  struggled 
with  the  passengers  up  to  the  boat  deck.  The 
intermediate  third  officer,  who  was  also  seated 
at  lunch  in  the  saloon,  went  up  to  his  boat 
station  on  C  deck,  starboard  side.  A  second- 
class  waiter,  in  his  pantry,  felt  the  ship  shake 
heavily,  saw  people  crowding  up  on  deck,  and 
went  up  to  his  boat  station.  The  junior  third 
officer  was  in  the  officers'  smoke-room  on  the 
bridge  deck.  The  lights  went  out ;  he  ran  up 
to  the  bridge,  the  ship  leaning  over,  a  shower 
of  fragments  falling  from  above  the  funnels,  saw 
the  white  track  of  the  torpedo,  and  heard  the 
master  order  the  swung-out  boats  to  be  lowered 
to  the  rail.  The  A.B.  on  the  saloon  deck  who 
had  seen  the  white  track  and  shouted  a  warning 
before  the  torpedo  struck  was  already  at  his 
boat  station.  The  passengers  on  the  upper  deck 
were  staggering  to  the  port  side,  up  the  deck, 
which  sloped  at  about  the  angle  of  an  ordinary 
slate  roof,  arms  clasped  over  their  heads,  pieces 
of  the  ship  falling  all  about  them,  and  immersed 
in  a  black  cloud  of  smoke  and  water,  whose 
vaporous  outer  edge  shone  white.  Passengers 


58    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

were  crowding  on  deck  from  below,  and  some 
of  the  women  were  weeping. 

What  was  happening  below,  in  the  rooms  and 
alleyways  of  that  floating  steel  town  ? 

The  junior  second  engineer  was  in  his  cabin 
when  he  heard  a  grating  noise,  and  the  ship 
heeled  over.  Going  out  into  the  alleyway,  he 
was  told  what  had  happened.  Then  he  dressed 
himself,  went  to  the  lifebelt  locker,  served  out 
lifebelts  to  passengers,  thence  he  went  to  the 
engine-room  and  told  the  firemen  to  get  away 
up  through  the  engine-room  skylight.  Then, 
and  not  till  then,  he  went  up  on  deck  to  his 
boat  station. 

The  second  senior  third  engineer,  on  watch  in 
the  engine-room,  had  made  out  the  speed  of  the 
vessel  by  reckoning  the  revolutions  when  the 
shock  came.  In  a  moment  the  main  steam 
dropped  to  50  Ibs.  The  pointer  on  the  signal  dial 
worked  from  the  bridge  switched  to  full  speed 
astern  and  then  full  speed  ahead,  as  arranged 
in  case  of  emergency  to  get  full  steam  on.  But 
there  was  no  steam.  The  lights  burned  dim. 
The  engineer  officer  started  to  go  to  the  store  to 
get  lamps,  but  failing  to  get  through  the  men 
rushing  to  the  upper  deck,  he  turned  back  to 
the  platform  in  case  there  should  be  more  signals. 
Thence  he  descended  to  the  lower  plates  to  see 
if  the  watertight  doors  were  closed.  The  lights 
went  out.  Groping  in  darkness  and  alone,  the 
engineer  officer  ascertained  that  the  water-tight 
doors  were  closed,  and  judged  that  the  turbines 
and  the  pumps  had  stopped  working.  Then  he 
went  up  to  C  deck. 


THE   "LUSITANIA"  59 

In  the  meantime  the  first  junior  third  engineer, 
who  was  in  No.  3  boiler-room,  heard  the  explosion, 
felt  the  ship's  list,  and  closed  the  nearest  water- 
tight door  by  hand.  The  forward  water-tight 
door,  starboard  side,  was  blocked  by  escaping 
firemen.  So  the  engineer  officer  ascended  to  the 
fan  flats,  went  through  the  firemen's  quarters 
and  along  the  engine-room  to  his  cabin  on  C  deck, 
and  thence  to  his  boat  station. 

A  leading  fireman,  working  in  No.  3  section  of 
the  port-side  stokehold,  felt  a  crash  as  if  the 
ship  had  struck  a  rock.  The  men  about  him 
cried  out,  "  They  have  got  us  at  last,"  and  dashed 
into  the  after  stokehold.  The  leading  fireman 
did  not  follow  them.  He  stopped  to  think. 
Having  decided  what  to  do,  he  went  into  the 
next  section,  into  which  the  water  was  flowing, 
and  forced  the  water-tight  door  shut  against  the 
stream.  Then  he  climbed  up  to  the  fan  flats  to 
his  quarters,  took  a  lifebelt  in  his  hand,  and  went 
up  to  C  deck.  A  passenger  snatched  the  belt  from 
him  and  ran.  The  fireman  vaguely  understood 
that  word  was  being  passed  that  the  ship  would 
not  sink,  and  went  on  to  his  boat  station. 

a  phantom  vision  of  the  stunning  reality.  The 
huge  vessel,  into  which  some  two  thousand  souls 
had  been  decanted,  is  speeding  on  the  bright  sea, 
each  of  her  inhabitants  busy  about  his  private 
concern,  working  the  ship,  tending  the  engines, 
feeding  the  furnaces,  gossiping,  dozing,  caring 
for  the  children,  leisurely  lunching,  when  there 
comes  a  shock,  a  jar,  and  a  trembling  and 
the  ship  tips  sideways,  and  to  every  soul  on 


60    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

board  there  rises  the  immediate  prospect  of 
death. 

Death  or  no  death,  to  the  officers  and  the  ship's 
company  there  is  duty  to  be  done.  The  master, 
upon  whom  rests  the  whole  responsibility,  gives 
his  orders  from  the  tilting  bridge,  sinking  momen- 
tarily nearer  the  water  ;  the  quartermaster  puts 
the  wheel  over  ;  the  officers,  scattered  about  the 
ship,  instantly  do  the  nearest  piece  of  work,  help 
and  encourage  the  passengers  and  go  to  their 
boats.  The  engineers  methodically  attend  to 
the  engines,  while  the  lights  burn  dim  and  are 
presently  extinguished.  The  men  from  the 
foretop,  saloon,  and  stokehold  go  to  their  boat 
stations.  The  passengers,  with  one  accord,  are 
pouring  up  to  the  slanting  decks,  where  every- 
thing is  sliding  and  slipping.  .  .  .  According  to 
testimony,  there  was  very  little  panic,  but  some 
of  the  women  were  weeping. 

The  master,  speaking  from  the  bridge,  had 
ordered  the  boats  to  be  lowered  to  the  rail ; 
and  women  and  children  first.  He  saw  that, 
owing  to  the  heeling  over  of  the  ship  to  starboard, 
it  would  be  dangerous  to  lower  the  port  side 
boats  to  the  rail,  because  they  would  swing 
inboard,  strike  the  slanting  deck  and  turn  over. 
He  saw  that  until  the  ship  stopped  it  would  be 
dangerous  to  lower  the  starboard  side  boats 
into  the  water  because,  owing  to  the  way  of  the 
vessel,  they  might  capsize.  There  was  therefore 
an  interval,  during  which  officers  and  men  strove 
to  load  the  boats  with  passengers  and  get  them 
away. 

The  master  on  the  bridge  knew  that  the  engines 


THE   "  LUSITANIA  "  61 

were  powerless,  and  that  the  vessel  would 
presently  stop,  so  that  he  could  not  beach  her. 
The  quartermaster  reported  that  she  kept  paying 
off.  The  second  officer,  watching  the  ship  heeling 
over,  reported  15  degrees  of  list,  and  then  an 
increase.  The  water  was  lipping  over  the  star- 
board end  of  the  bridge.  The  master  told  the 
quartermaster  to  save  himself,  and  the  quarter- 
master, having  no  lifebelt,  waded  waist-deep 
into  the  rising  water,  got  a  lifebuoy  and  was  then 
washed  into  the  sea.  The  master  remained  on 
the  high  end  of  the  bridge. 

What  was  happening  on  the  tilted  deck  ? 

The  first  officer,  who  had  been  at  lunch  in 
the  saloon,  was  getting  people  into  a  boat  on  the 
starboard  side.  By  that  time  the  ship  was  listing 
40  degrees,  and  sinking  by  the  head,  and  the  boat 
was  therefore  hanging  from  the  davits  several 
feet  away  from  the  rail.  The  first  officer,  with 
immense  difficulty,  transferred  about  eighty 
persons  across  this  chasm  into  the  boat  and  then 
lowered  the  boat  into  the  water.  People  were 
then  slipping  down  the  deck  into  the  sea.  The 
first  officer  remained  in  the  ship,  the  people  in 
the  boat  calling  to  him  to  come  down.  The 
forward  bridge  was  awash,  and  the  ship  evidently 
sinking  fast.  The  first  officer  went  down  the 
falls  and  dropped  into  the  boat.  Two  or  three 
minutes  afterward  the  ship  stood  on  her  nose 
and  went  down,  and  the  boat  was  dragged  this 
way  and  that  in  the  whirlpool. 

The  junior  second  engineer,  coming  up  from 
directing  the  firemen,  came  to  his  boat  on  the 
port  side,  where  were  some  of  the  boat's  crew  and 


62    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

a  crowd  of  passengers.  He  lowered  the  boat  to 
the  level  of  the  deck  and  filled  her  with  women. 
Then  the  heeling  over  of  the  vessel  flung  the 
boat  inboard  and  capsized  her  on  the  top  of  her 
passengers.  The  engineer  officer,  hanging  on  to 
a  davit,  went  down  with  the  ship,  and  presently 
came  up  again.  While  the  junior  second  engineer 
was  hanging  on  the  davit  and  the  passengers 
were  sliding  from  under  the  capsized  boat  down 
the  deck  and  into  the  water,  the  second  senior 
third  engineer,  having  done  all  he  could  below, 
climbed  over  the  rail  on  the  port  side  and  walked 
down  the  hull  into  the  sea. 

The  first  junior  third  engineer,  having  shut 
watertight  doors  and  the  like  below,  came  up 
to  the  starboard  side,  where  the  first  officer  was 
loading  his  boat.  The  first  junior  third  engineer 
took  charge  of  his  own  boat.  He  stood  by  the 
after  falls,  and  an  able  seaman  stood  by  the 
forward  falls.  They  lowered  the  boat  to  the  deck 
and  put  about  thirty  women  into  her.  Then  they 
lowered  the  boat  into  the  water,  the  junior  third 
engineer,  like  the  first  officer,  remaining  in  the 
ship.  When  the  rail  had  dropped  to  within 
about  ten  feet  above  the  boat,  he  jumped  down 
into  her,  seized  an  oar  and  tried  to  shove  off 
from  the  ship's  side.  A  dense  cloud  of  water 
mingled  with  soot  descended,  and  when  the 
engineer  officer  could  see  again,  there  was  no 
ship,  and  the  boat  was  swinging  in  the  whirlpool. 

When  the  intermediate  third  officer  came  up 
from  the  saloon,  with  a  rush  of  passengers,  he 
went  to  his  section  of  boats,  starboard  side. 
One  of  his  boats,  which  had  been  lowered  to 


THE   "  LUSITANIA  "  63 

the  rail,  was  already  full  of  passengers,  and  some 
aliens  were  trying  to  get  on  board.  The  officer 
disposed  of  the  ahens  and  got  the  boat  into  the 
water  and  away.  Then  he  got  another  boat 
away,  full  of  passengers.  He  could  have  gone 
with  her,  but  he  was  too  late.  The  ship  was  sink- 
ing. He  struggled  up  the  steep  slant  of  the  deck 
to  the  port  side,  and  the  water  caught  him.  He 
had  just  time  to  snatch  the  life  line  of  a  boat,  when 
he  was  sucked  down  with  the  ship.  When  he 
came  to  the  surface  the  ship  was  gone. 

The  second-class  waiter  and  library  steward, 
who  had  rushed  on  deck  from  his  pantry,  went 
to  the  after  collapsible  boats  and  tried  to  get 
them  away.  Failing,  he  cut  away  empty  cases 
and  lockers  and  hove  them  overboard,  so  that 
people  could  hang  on  to  them.  The  ship  sank 
under  him. 

The  leading  fireman,  coming  up  from  below, 
was  carried  by  the  crowd  to  the  starboard  side. 
Here  he  found  a  boat,  of  which  the  forward  falls 
had  slipped,  hanging  bows  down.  He  helped  to 
haul  her  level,  and  then  helped  to  put  women 
into  her.  As  she  was  being  lowered,  a  fall 
slipped  and  all  the  passengers  were  thrown  into 
the  sea.  The  fireman  clung  to  a  thwart  of  the 
boat,  which  was  drawn  down  with  the  ship. 

The  junior  third  officer,  coming  from  the  bridge, 
went  to  his  boat  station  on  the  deadly  port  side, 
and  with  an  able  seaman  lowered  his  boat,  which 
swung  inboard  and  was  useless.  Then  the  staff 
captain  sent  him  back  to  the  bridge  to  tell  the 
second  officer  to  trim  the  ship  with  the  port 
tanks.  The  ship  drawing  a  little  nearer  level, 


64    THE   MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN   WAR 

the  port  boats  were  swung  clear  of  the  rail. 
Then  some  passengers,  meddling  with  the  guys, 
let  them  go,  so  that  the  boats  swung  back  again 
inboard.  Amid  this  crowd  and  confusion,  the 
ship  heeling  over,  boats  and  collapsible  boats 
beneath  them,  and  passengers  all  mixed  up 
together,  the  junior  officer  strove  desperately 
until,  the  ship  going  down  under  him,  he  slid 
down  to  starboard,  where  the  rail  was  nearly 
submerged,  and  so  into  the  water,  and  was 
sucked  down  with  the  vessel,  and  came  up  again. 

It  seems  that  the  two  able  seamen  who  had 
come  down  from  the  crow's  -  nest  were  also 
struggling  to  get  the  port  side  boats  away. 
One  boat,  partly  filled  with  women,  was  being 
lowered  when  the  ship  sank,  and  all  were  in  the 
water. 

The  able  seaman  who  from  the  saloon  saw  the 
torpedo  coming  and  gave  the  alarm,  being  unable 
to  get  one  of  the  starboard  boats  away,  joined 
the  party  under  the  command  of  the  first  officer, 
and  went  away  in  his  boat. 

The  master,  on  the  bridge,  put  on  a  lifebelt, 
waited  till  the  ship  sank  under  him,  went  down 
with  her  and  came  up  again.  As  the  water 
closed  about  him  there  rang  in  his  ears  "  a  long, 
wailing,  mournful,  despairing,  beseeching  cry." 
So  one  of  the  passengers  described  the  last  sound 
to  The  Times. 

He  was  in  the  water  for  nearly  three  hours 
when  he  was  picked  up  by  one  of  the  ship's 
boats. 

What  happened  after  the  Lusitania  had  plunged 
down  bows  first,  her  stern  projecting  almost 


THE   "LUSITANIA"  65 

vertically  from  the  sea,  the  living  within  her 
being  smashed  against  bulkheads  by  furniture 
and  then  drowned  ? 

Amid  the  whirl  and  undulation  and  breaking 
waves  of  the  sea  were  tossing  men,  women  and 
children,  dead  and  alive,  boats,  cases,  casks, 
spars,  wreckage  of  all  kinds.  Right  in  the  whirl- 
pool were  the  laden  boats  of  the  first  officer  and 
of  the  junior  third  engineer,  and  the  two  other 
boats  lowered  from  the  starboard  side.  It  seems 
that  only  these  four  were  safely  got  away  filled 
with  passengers.  There  were  other  boats  floating 
about,  and  some  collapsible  boats.  Some  boats 
were  capsized,  some  had  people  clinging  to  them. 

The  first  officer,  whose  boat,  laden  with  about 
eighty  people,  was  tossing  dangerously,  ordered 
the  passengers  to  sit  still,  and  by  means  of  good 
seamanship  extricated  his  boat  from  danger. 
With  him  were  the  first  junior  third  engineer, 
the  able  seaman  from  the  saloon  deck,  and  some 
seamen  and  stewards.  About  600  yards  away 
was  another  boat,  apparently  empty,  to  which 
they  pulled,  and  found  in  her  three  men  who 
had  swum  to  her.  The  first  officer  transferred 
to  this  boat  the  first  junior  third  engineer,  whom 
he  put  in  charge  of  her,  a  crew  of  seamen  and 
stewards  and  about  thirty  passengers.  Room 
was  thus  made  in  both  boats  for  more  survivors. 
The  first  officer  returned  to  the  scene  of  the 
disaster  and  picked  up  as  many  people  as  the 
boat  would  hold.  Then  he  rowed  to  a  fishing 
smack,  a  distance  of  about  five  miles,  and  put 
the  passengers  on  board  her.  Then  he  rowed 
all  the  way  back  again.  He  came  upon  a 

F 


66    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

collapsible  boat,  water-logged  and  helpless,  in 
which  were  thirty-five  persons,  took  them  on 
board,  and  transhipped  them  into  a  trawler. 
The  trawler  towed  the  first  officer's  boat  back 
once  more  to  the  scene  of  the  wreck,  and  he 
rescued  ten  persons,  whom  he  transhipped  to 
another  vessel.  By  this  time  there  were  various 
vessels  assembling  ;  and  the  first  officer,  finding 
his  crew  exhausted  by  their  hours  of  rowing  a 
heavy  sea-boat,  and  their  intense  exertions,  went 
with  them  on  board  one  of  the  rescuing  boats, 
and  so  was  taken  into  Queenstown. 

In  the  meantime  the  first  junior  third  engineer 
had  been  doing  the  like  with  his  boat.  He  baled 
her  out,  picked  up  about  twenty-four  persons, 
and  transferred  them  to  a  sailing  trawler.  Then 
he  took  a  number  of  women  from  a  collapsible 
boat  into  his  own  boat,  the  sailing  trawler  being 
fully  laden.  A  steam  trawler  arrived,  and  the 
first  junior  third  engineer  put  his  crew  and 
passengers  on  board  her.  The  trawler  supplied 
fresh  crews  for  the  boat  and  the  collapsible  boat, 
took  the  boats  in  tow,  and,  having  rescued  more 
people,  went  to  Queenstown,  where  she  arrived 
about  half-past  eight  in  the  evening,  some  six 
hours  after  the  disaster. 

So  much  for  the  work  of  the  boats.  We  learn 
something  of  what  happened  to  the  people  cast 
upon  the  sea  from  the  brief  accounts  of  sur- 
vivors, and  thus  picture  the  field  of  waters, 
strewn  with  wreckage  and  half-submerged  boats 
to  which  people  are  clinging,  and  dotted  with 
men  and  women  still  feebly  swimming  and 
floating.  .  .  .  Here  and  there  are  trawlers  and 


THE  "LUSITANIA"  67 

other  vessels,  and  boats  whose  crews  are  hauling 
people  over  the  side. 

One  of  the  able  seamen  who  had  been  on 
watch  in  the  crow's  -  nest,  and  who  had  been 
drawn  down  with  the  ship,  came  to  the  surface 
and  seized  a  floating  block  of  wood.  Then  he 
saw  a  woman  struggling,  pushed  the  wood  over 
to  her,  and  swam  away  to  a  collapsible  boat. 
There  were  several  people  in  her,  one  of  the 
ship's  officers  among  them.  The  able  seaman 
climbed  on  board,  and  at  once  took  his  part  in 
wrestling  with  the  crank  boat,  which  kept  turning 
over.  Again  and  again  they  righted  her,  but 
each  time  they  were  flung  into  the  water  some 
of  the  survivors  were  drowned.  After  a  long 
time,  those  who  remained,  the  sturdy  A.B. 
among  them,  were  picked  up  by  one  of  the 
ship's  boats. 

The  junior  second  engineer  who,  while  trying 
to  launch  one  of  the  port  side  boats,  had  been 
drawn  down  with  the  ship,  came  up  to  the 
surface,  clutched  a  lifebuoy  and  remained  floating. 
He  floated  for  about  two  and  a  half  hours,  and 
then  he  was  picked  up  by  one  of  the  ship's  boats. 

The  second  senior  third  engineer,  having  done 
all  that  could  be  done  below,  came  up  on  deck 
to  find  it  tilted  to  so  steep  an  angle  that  he  could 
not  keep  his  footing.  He  climbed  over  the  rail 
on  the  port  side  and  walked  down  the  sinking  hull 
into  the  water.  He  kept  himself  afloat  for  about 
three  hours.  Then  he  was  picked  up  by  one  of 
the  collapsible  boats,  which  was  partly  water- 
logged, and  thence  he  was  transferred  to  a  patrol 
boat. 

F  2 


68   THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

The  quartermaster  who,  after  being  told  by 
the  master  to  save  himself,  took  a  lifebuoy  and 
was  washed  from  the  bridge,  swam  to  a  capsized 
boat.  Seated  in  the  keel  were  "  two  foreigners," 
who  hauled  the  quartermaster  alongside  them. 
The  party  was  rescued  by  a  trawler. 

The  intermediate  third  officer,  having  helped 
to  launch  the  starboard  side  boats,  ran  up  the 
deck  to  the  port  side  as  the  ship  went  down,  and 
was  carried  down  with  her.  He  swam  to  a 
capsized  boat,  to  which  twenty- five  persons  were 
clinging.  During  the  next  four  hours  and  more 
twenty  of  the  twenty-five  dropped  off  and  were 
drowned.  A  trawler  rescued  the  survivors. 

The  second-class  waiter  under  whom  the  ship 
went  down  while  he  was  cutting  away  and  casting 
into  the  sea  lockers  and  empty  cases,  also  swam 
to  a  capsized  boat  and  was  eventually  picked  up. 

The  leading  fireman,  carried  down  on  the 
starboard  side  with  the  boat  he  was  trying  to 
clear  and  the  ship,  swam  to  a  collapsible  boat. 
It  was  fortunately  floating  right  side  up ;  the 
cover  was  still  on  it ;  and  on  the  cover  were  a 
coal-trimmer  and  a  woman.  They  helped  him 
on  board ;  and  the  leading  fireman,  a  person  of 
energy  and  resource,  got  to  work,  cut  the  cover 
away,  put  the  sides  up,  and  then  cruised  about 
picking  people  from  the  water.  They  were 
presently  rescued  by  a  trawler. 

The  junior  third  officer,  after  his  desperate 
efforts  to  get  away  the  port  side  boats,  had 
gone  down  with  the  ship.  When  he  came  up 
he  swam  to  a  collapsible  boat,  which  was  partly 
stove  in.  He  climbed  on  board  her  and  picked 


THE   "LUSITANIA"  69 

up  another  man.  The  two,  having  managed  partly 
to  raise  the  sides  of  the  boat,  went  in  search  of 
others.  They  rescued  several  people  from  the 
water  and  from  a  capsized  boat,  during  two  hours' 
hard  toil.  Then  they  came  upon  three  persons 
hanging  on  to  a  bread-tank,  but  by  that  time  the 
collapsible  boat  was  full.  The  indefatigable 
junior  third  officer  found  an  empty  boat, 
transferred  his  passengers  to  her,  then  returned 
and  took  in  the  castaways  on  the  bread-tank  and 
picked  out  several  more  people  floating  on  life- 
belts. He  kept  the  two  boats  in  company,  and 
both  were  subsequently  rescued. 

The  rescuing  vessels  came  dropping  into 
Queenstown  as  the  night  fell,  laden  with  the 
living,  the  dying  and  the  dead.  During  the 
next  two  days  the  dead  were  carried  through  the 
streets  by  stretcher-parties  to  the  mortuaries. 
Here  men  and  women  walked  in  fear,  scanning 
the  dead  faces,  looking  for  those  whom  they  had 
lost.  But  our  affair  is  not  with  the  passengers, 
but  with  the  men  of  the  merchant  service,  and 
how  they  discharged  their  duty. 

It  is  right,  however,  that  the  remarks  made 
by  the  enemy  should  be  remembered.  Said  the 
Cologne  Gazette :  "  The  news  will  be  received  by 
the  German  people  with  undisguised  gratifica- 
tion. ..."  Said  the  Frankfurter  Zeitung :  "  A 
German  war  vessel  sunk  the  ship.  It  has  done 
its  duty !  "  Said  the  Austrian  Neue  Freie 
Presse :  "  We  rejoice  over  this  new  success  of 
the  German  Navy.  ..." 

So  much  for  "  the  freedom  of  the  seas." 


XI 
THE   CASTAWAYS 

THE  master  was  sitting  in  the  saloon,  peace- 
fully writing.  His  ship,  pitching  heavily  in  the 
swell,  was  the  British  steamer  Coquet,  laden 
with  salt,  which  she  was  carrying  eastward 
through  the  Mediterranean.  It  was  eleven 
o'clock  in  the  forenoon  of  Tuesday,  January  4th, 
1916.  The  master  heard  the  report  of  a  gun 
fired  at  sea.  Eunning  up  to  the  bridge,  he  heard 
a  second  report,  and  saw  a  projectile  speed 
across  the  bows  and  plunge  into  the  water. 
The  third  officer,  on  watch  on  the  bridge,  told 
the  master  that  the  shots  were  fired  from  a 
submarine  on  the  port  quarter,  and  also  that 
he  had  (he  thought)  sighted  another  submarine 
on  the  port  bow.  Gazing  across  the  field  of  great 
blue  hills  rising  and  falling,  at  first  the  master 
could  see  nothing  else.  Then  he  caught  sight  of 
the  submarine  astern,  running  on  the  surface  at 
a  good  speed,  something  over  a  mile  away. 
Another  shell  sang  over  the  bridge,  another 
passed  under  the  stern.  The  master,  perceiving 
that  the  attacking  submarine  was  overhauling 


7U 


THE  CASTAWAYS  71 

him,  and  having  reason  to  suppose  that  another 
submarine  was  approaching,  ordered  the  engines 
to  be  stopped,  and  the  boats  to  be  made  ready 
to  get  away,  and  ran  up  a  hoist  of  flags,  signifying 
that  the  ship  was  stopped.  The  submarine  drew 
nearer,  flying  the  signal  "  Abandon  ship."  Then 
the  master  went  down  to  his  cabin,  took  his 
confidential  papers  and  burned  them  in  the 
galley  fire.  The  officers  and  men  were  lowering 
the  boats  in  a  hurry,  amid  the  babble  in  several 
languages  of  the  crew,  who  were  of  various 
nationalities. 

The  port  side  lifeboat,  under  the  command  of 
the  first  officer,  was  got  away  first.  The  master, 
taking  his  chronometer,  sextant,  chart  and  the 
ship's  papers,  went  away  in  the  starboard  lifeboat. 
Then  the  submarine  opened  fire  again.  She  fired 
eight  shots,  all  of  which  missed  the  ship,  one 
severing  the  bridge  signal  halliards.  The  heavy 
swell  baulked  the  submarine  gunners. 

The  submarine,  drawing  nearer  the  two  boats, 
ordered  them  to  come  alongside,  a  manoeuvre 
highly  dangerous  with  so  great  a  sea  running. 
And  in  coming  alongside  both  boats  were  flung 
downwards  upon  the  outer  edge  of  the  submarine's 
hull,  which  was  awash,  their  timbers  were  started, 
and  the  water  came  in.  The  master  was  ordered 
on  board  the  submarine  by  her  commanding 
officer,  a  short,  square-built  man  of  forty  or 
fifty  with  a  fair  moustache,  speaking  good 
English.  With  him  were  several  other  officers, 
all  dressed  in  leather  clothing,  and  bearing  the 
Austrian  crown  in  their  caps.  Eight  or  nine  of 
the  crew,  wearing  ordinary  bluejackets'  rig,  were 


72    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

on  deck.  They  were  secured  in  case  of  accident 
by  lanyards  fastened  to  their  belts  and  attached 
at  the  other  end  to  a  wire  jack-stay  running  fore 
and  aft.  The  submarine,  painted  a  bluish  slate- 
colour,  was  not  of  the  latest  size.  She  bore 
signs  of  wear,  carried  two  masts  winged  to  the 
deck  and  lying  on  it,  and  mounted  one  gun,  about 
nine  feet  long,  forward  of  the  conning  tower. 

When  the  two  boats  of  the  Coquet  were  dizzily 
rising  and  falling  alongside  the  submarine,  the 
submarine  commander  ordered  the  master  to 
come  on  board.  At  the  same  time  some  of  the 
submarine's  crew,  armed  with  revolvers  and 
cutlasses,  embarked  in  the  two  boats,  which  were 
sent  back  to  the  ship,  leaving  the  master  alone 
with  his  captors  in  the  submarine. 

The  commander  of  the  submarine  proceeded 
to  improve  the  occasion  by  endeavouring  to 
elicit  from  the  master  his  views  on  the  subject 
of  the  war.  The  British  officer,  by  his  account 
of  the  matter,  seems  to  have  affected  a  dense 
ignorance.  But  the  ignorance  of  the  submarine 
commander  was  probably  unfeigned,  for  he  said  : 

"  When  you  get  back  to  London,  Captain, 
tell  Mr.  Grey  that  if  he  does  not  want  his  ships 
sunk,  to  stop  the  war ;  it  is  only  being  kept  on 
by  him  and  the  young  men  of  England." 

While  the  master  was  thus  being  entertained, 
the  two  ship's  boats  had  regained  the  ship.  The 
men  were  given  twenty  minutes  to  collect  their 
gear,  while  the  submarine's  men  set  to  looting 
the  vessel.  When  the  men  of  the  Coquet  were 
ready,  they  were  ordered  to  return  to  the  sub- 
marine. The  submarine's  people  loaded  one  of 


THE   CASTAWAYS  78 

the  small  boats  of  the  Coquet  with  their  booty, 
lowered  her  into  the  water,  embarked  in  her,  and 
fastened  two  bombs  on  the  ship's  hull,  under 
water,  abreast  of  the  holds.  Then  they  pulled 
away  for  the  submarine. 

The  master,  stolidly  parrying  the  questions  of 
the  submarine  commander,  saw  two  bursts  of 
black  smoke  shroud  the  Coquet,  and  heard  a 
double  explosion.  Instantly  the  ship  began  to 
settle  by  the  head.  He  watched  her  sinking  for 
several  minutes,  then  she  plunged  bows  down, 
lifted  her  stern  high  above  the  water,  screamed 
like  a  wounded  animal,  and  vanished.  For  in 
sinking,  something  caught  her  whistle  lanyard. 
(It  is  recorded  by  eye-witnesses  that  when  H.M.S. 
Sultan  was  wrecked  in  the  Mediterranean  many 
years  ago,  she  having  been  abandoned  at  the 
last  minute,  her  ensign  was  lowered  to  half-mast 
as  she  was  in  the  act  of  sinking.) 

The  two  lifeboats  of  the  Coquet  came  along- 
side the  submarine,  both  leaking  badly,  so  that 
the  men  were  baling  hard.  It  was  in  these 
damaged  craft  that  the  submarine  commander 
proposed  to  set  thirty-one  men  adrift,  many 
miles  from  land,  in  mid- winter,  in  the  dangerous 
weather  of  the  Mediterranean.  The  master 
remonstrated  with  the  submarine  officer,  telling 
him  plainly  he  was  committing  murder.  The 
affair  struck  the  submarine  commander  as 
humorous.  He  laughed,  airily  promising  to 
send  the  next  ship  he  stopped  to  look  for  the 
castaways.  His  men  then  robbed  the  Coquet 
of  chronometers,  sextants,  charts  and  everything 
else  that  took  their  fancy.  The  master  was 


74    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

ordered  into  his  boat ;  the  two  boats  shoved 
off ;  and  the  submarine  got  under  way,  steered 
northward,  and  was  presently  lost  to  sight. 

So  ended  chapter  one. 

Consider  the  situation  of  these  thirty-one 
seamen,  adrift  in  open  boats,  both  of  which  were 
overloaded  and  unseaworthy,  some  300  miles 
from  the  mainland,  which  they  could  not  possibly 
reach  in  less  than  three  days  and  three  nights, 
with  wind  and  weather  favourable.  The  chief 
hope  was  their  rescue  by  a  steamer. 

There  were  seventeen  in  the  master's  boat, 
fourteen  in  the  mate's  boat.  The  master  steered 
south,  hoisting  sail  and  running  before  the  wind, 
a  course  which  would  take  them  across  the 
track  of  steamers.  And  sure  enough,  after  sailing 
all  the  afternoon,  they  sighted  a  ship.  The  mate, 
whose  boat  was  between  the  master's  boat  and 
the  distant  ship,  burned  three  red  flares,  and 
the  master  burned  one.  So  the  castaways  stared 
in  suspense  at  the  prospect  of  their  salvation. 
But  immediately  it  vanished,  for  the  steamer 
held  on  her  course. 

Then  began  one  of  those  ordeals  of  the  sea 
which  go  beyond  the  landsman's  imagination  to 
conceive.  By  this  time  the  sea  was  running  so 
high  that  it  was  dangerous  to  sail.  The  master 
lowered  the  sail,  unshipped  the  mast,  and  put 
out  the  drogue,  or  sea  anchor,  a  conical  bag  of 
sailcloth,  which,  towed  with  the  open  larger  end 
towards  the  boat,  serves  to  take  her  way  off 
and  keep  her  head  to  sea.  But  the  sea-anchor 
failed  of  its  effect,  and  the  master  towed  the  mast 
instead. 


THE   CASTAWAYS  75 

The  breaking  waves,  and  the  spray  driven  by 
a  pitiless  north  wind,  soaked  the  castaways  and 
chilled  them  to  the  heart.  The  boat  was  con- 
tinually filling  with  water,  so  that  two  men  must 
be  kept  baling  without  cessation. 

The  master,  competent  and  imperturbable 
from  first  to  last,  organised  his  party.  The  rations 
were  fixed  at  two  and  a  half  biscuits  and  two  gills 
of  water  per  man  per  day,  and  the  first  ration 
was  given  that  night.  The  men  took  turns  at 
the  baling,  two  at  a  time.  The  steward,  an  old 
man  and  ill,  was  exempted.  So  were  the  four 
boys,  who  were  paralysed  with  sea-sickness,  cold 
and  fear.  So  passed  the  night  of  January  4th, 
after  the  ship  which  might  have  rescued  the 
castaways  had  gone  on  her  way  unheeding. 
There  is  no  record  of  what  happened  in  the  chief 
officer's  boat. 

So,  all  the  next  day,  January  5th  :  heavy  sea, 
bitter  wind,  thirst,  cold,  hunger,  incessant  baling 
and  the  boat  never  less  than  ankle-deep  in  water, 
bale  as  they  might.  That  day  the  carpenter 
managed  to  caulk  a  part  of  the  boat  with  pieces 
of  shirt.  So,  all  the  night  of  the  5th,  and  the 
early  morning  of  the  6th. 

When  the  darkness  began  to  thin  the  master,  as 
his  boat  rose  to  the  crest  of  a  wave,  made  out  a 
dark  object  in  the  distance  away  to  leeward,  and 
thought  it  might  be  a  steamer  proceeding  without 
lights.  He  burned  a  flare,  which  was  immediately 
answered  by  another,  and  presently,  not  a 
steamer  but,  the  first  officer's  boat  hove  nearer. 
When  the  first  officer  came  within  speaking 
distance,  the  master  told  him  to  keep  far  apart, 


76    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

in  order  to  increase  the  chance  of  sighting  a 
steamer.  The  first  officer  steered  away,  and 
gradually  drew  further  off  during  the  day.  As 
darkness  closed  in  on  the  third  day,  those  in 
the  master's  boat  lost  sight  of  the  first  officer's 
boat.  She  was  never  seen  again. 

That  night,  the  night  of  January  6th-7th,  the 
sea  rose  higher,  so  that  the  master  trailed  a 
leaking  oil-bag  to  allay  the  breaking  of  the  waves. 
The  night  was  worse  than  the  day,  because  during 
the  day  there  was  a  chance  of  sun.  But,  save 
for  an  occasional  watery  ray,  there  never  was 
any  sun. 

The  misery  of  the  castaways  was  hourly 
intensifying.  The  master  and  several  others 
suffered  piercing  pains  in  their  joints.  One  of 
the  four  boys,  a  little  Italian  mess-room  waiter, 
cried  all  night  long  in  his  sleep  with  the  pain. 
So  passed  the  day  of  the  7th  and  the  following 
night. 

On  the  morning  of  the  8th  wind  and  sea  went 
down  a  little.  The  master  reckoned  that  by  this 
time  he  had  run  right  across  the  track  of  steamers ; 
he  perceived  that  it  was  impossible,  in  that 
weather,  to  return  upon  his  course ;  and  he 
decided  to  steer  south  for  the  African  coast.  At 
first  they  did  better ;  then  the  wind  backed  to 
west-north-west,  making  it  difficult  to  keep  the 
course. 

All  that  night,  and  all  the  day  following 
(the  9th),  the  wind  kept  backing  to  the  south- 
west, the  boat  making  more  and  more  leeway. 
Still  the  master  sailed  her  indomitably.  The 
allowance  of  water  had  been  slightly  increased, 


THE   CASTAWAYS  77 

because  the  continual  driving  of  the  salt  spray 
gave  the  men  an  intense  thirst.  But  the  water 
was  running  short.  Towards  evening,  the  master, 
unable  any  longer  to  steer  south,  was  forced  to 
steer  south-east.  So  he  held  desperately  on  till 
midnight.  And  then  he  descried,  looming  through 
the  wintry  dark,  land. 

Almost    at    the    same    moment,    with    that 

perversity  which  lends  to  fortune  an  expression 

of  blind  malignity,  the  wind  blew  harder  and 

shifted  into  the  south,  dead  ahead,  and  scourged 

the   water  into  the   vicious   short   sea   of  the 

Mediterranean.         The    master,    numbed    and 

suffering,  but  unbeaten,  reefed  down  and  held 

on.      But  so  heavy  were  wind  and  sea  that 

presently  he  was  compelled  to  lower  the  sail, 

unship  the  mast,  heave  it  overboard  with  a 

couple  of  oars  lashed  to  it,  and  tow  it,  to  serve 

as  a  sea-anchor.    In  this  near  hopeless  trim  they 

pitched  and  rolled,   baling  all  the   while,   for 

three  or  four  hours.     Then,  as  the  light  of  day 

began  to  glimmer  over  the  desolate  sea,  the  wind 

and  sea  went  down  somewhat.       The  master 

shipped  the  mast  again,  and  again  hoisted  sail, 

and  began  to  beat  to  windward.    To  and  fro  they 

shoved,    gaining   perhaps    a    few    yards    when 

they  went  about,  the  heavy  boat  making  leeway 

for  all  they  could  do,  the  wind  pushing  them 

off  the  desired  shore.     So,  all  day.     Beating  up 

against  a  head  wind  is  a  heavy,  weary  job  enough 

with  a  fresh  crew,  plenty  of  time  and  no  anxiety. 

What  was  it  to  these  castaways,  sliding  back  and 

forth  in  sight  of  the  mocking  shore  ? 

But  they  drew  nearer  in  spite  of  all ;   and  as 


78    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

the  chance  of  salvation  grew,  the  wind  dropped, 
until  they  could  no  longer  keep  steerage  way  in 
the  boat.  But  by  this  time  the  shore  was  in 
clear  view,  sloping  down  to  a  little  bay,  and, 
beyond,  buildings  rose  upon  the  grey  sky.  The 
master  lowered  sail,  and  ordered  the  men  to  row. 
It  was  the  last  effort.  The  crew  were  so  exhausted 
they  could  scarce  get  way  on  the  boat,  and  all 
the  while  two  of  them  must  keep  baling,  crouching 
under  the  moving  oars  as  best  they  could. 

They  drew  near  the  rocky  shore,  where  a  heavy 
sea  was  running,  and  the  boat  was  filled  with 
water,  so  that  they  must  haul  off  and  bale  her 
out.  This  happened  twice.  Then  they  got  the 
boat  into  shallow  water,  tumbled  out  of  her, 
and  made  her  fast. 

The  master  sent  a  couple  of  men  to  look  for 
water,  made  the  boat  secure  for  the  night,  and, 
stiff  and  aching,  his  legs  bending  under  him, 
explored  the  haven  to  which  he  had  so  dreadfully 
come.  In  the  face  of  the  low  cliffs  closing  in 
the  bay  were  the  dark  mouths  of  caves.  Looking 
into  these,  the  master  perceived  wet  and  a 
lamentable  stench.  Ascending  the  cliffs,  he 
found  what  he  had  thought  to  be  a  village  was 
a  heap  of  ancient  ruins.  The  master  decided 
that  it  was  best  to  sleep  on  the  sand  of  the  bay, 
which,  he  hoped,  might  hold  some  warmth  of 
the  day's  sunlight. 

But  when  they  lay  down  in  their  wet  clothes 
the  sand  struck  chill  and  wet.  Ere  they  lay 
down,  they  made  a  meal  of  limpets  plucked  from 
the  rocks,  biscuit,  and  water  from  a  well  found 
by  the  two  men.  They  slept,  the  master,  the 


THE   CASTAWAYS  79 

second  officer,  and  the  two  engineers  keeping 
watch  by  turns,  as  miserable  a  party  as  the  stars 
looked  down  upon  that  night.  They  had  lost 
their  ship  on  the  4th ;  it  was  now  the  10th  ; 
six  days  and  nights  they  had  tossed  and  suffered, 
starved,  athirst  and  deadly  cold  ;  and  now  they 
were  flung  upon  the  edge  of  the  desert,  solitary 
and  savage. 

So  ended  chapter  two. 

The  master,  upon  whom  hung  the  lives  of 
all,  awoke  at  daybreak  and,  aching  in  every 
bone,  reflected  upon  the  situation.  It  appeared 
to  him  that  the  place  where  they  were,  being 
provided  with  water  to  drink  and  shellfish  for 
food  and  the  materials  for  shelter,  should  serve 
as  a  base  until  he  could  discover  the  nearest  port 
of  civilisation. 

Breakfast  of  shellfish,  biscuits  and  water  was 
served  out.  The  master  instructed  the  second 
officer  to  get  the  boat  baled  out,  listed  over  and 
repaired  if  possible,  and  to  clean  out  one  of  the 
caves  and  to  light  a  fire  in  it.  The  wind  had 
dropped  ;  there  was  a  flat  calm  ;  and  to  get  any- 
where by  rowing  was  merely  impossible.  So  the 
master,  with  three  men,  set  forth  to  try  to  find 
a  man  or  a  town.  The  country  was  all  mud  and 
great  stones  and  hills  of  loose  sand,  so  that  the 
pioneers,  whose  legs  were  near  paralysed,  stum- 
bling and  falling,  endured  the  most  frightful 
toil.  It  takes  a  deal  to  kill  the  British  seaman. 
After  all  they  had  suffered,  with  scarce  a  flicker 
of  life  alight  in  them,  these  four  started  on  a 
long  march.  They  struggled  on  in  that  savage 
wilderness  for  some  hours,  and  then,  as  though 


80    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

appearing  out  of  the  earth,  there  stood  before 
them  a  lone  Arab  of  great  stature.  The  master 
could  make  nothing  of  his  talk ;  but  he  seemed 
friendly,  and  together  they  retraced  the  weary 
way  to  the  camp. 

When  they  arrived,  one  of  the  firemen,  a 
Greek,  acted  as  interpreter.  It  appeared  that  the 
tall  Arab  proposed  that  the  party  should  embark 
in  their  boat  and  let  him  pilot  them  to  the  nearest 
port.  But  the  second  officer  now  reported  that 
the  boat  was  damaged  beyond  repair.  The  planks 
on  either  side  the  keel  were  smashed  to  pieces, 
and  the  water  came  in  faster  than  it  could  be 
baled  out.  Then  the  helpful  Arab  suggested 
that  the  master  should  march  with  him  across 
country  to  the  nearest  town.  But  the  master 
was  done.  He  had  been  walking  for  six  or  seven 
hours  already.  So  he  sent  two  Greek  firemen  with 
the  Arab.  One  of  the  Greeks  spoke  Arabic,  so 
that  he  could  converse  with  the  guide  ;  the  other 
knew  Italian.  As  the  castaways  were  in  Italian 
territory,  the  Greek  could  explain  the  case.  The 
Greeks  were  told  to  ask  for  a  boat  to  be  sent 
to  rescue  the  party.  So  they  departed  with  the 
Arab  into  the  desert. 

The  fifteen  men  left  behind  began  to  reckon 
upon  the  coming  of  that  vessel  in  the  morning. 
A  fire  of  driftwood  was  blazing  in  the  cave ; 
the  people  had  dried  their  clothes  ;  and,  although 
the  floor  was  wet  and  hard,  at  least  there  was  a 
fire,  and  a  part  of  their  bodies  was  warmed. 

Next  morning,  the  12th,  after  breakfast,  some 
of  the  men  went  away  to  wash  in  the  muddy 
water  of  a  little  river  flowing  into  the  sea  near 


THE   CASTAWAYS  81 

by.  All  kept  an  eager  eye  lifting  to  seaward, 
looking  out  for  the  rescuing  vessel.  It  was 
nearly  ten  o'clock,  and  the  master  was  just 
going  down  to  the  river  to  wash,  when  there 
rang  the  crack  of  rifles,  and  bullets  sang  about 
the  rocks. 

Silhouetted  against  the  sky  on  the  top  of  a 
little  hill  were  the  dancing  and  gesticulating 
figures  of  two  Arabs.  They  were  laughing 
and  shouting ;  and  the  master,  conceiving  the 
fusillade  to  be  no  more  than  an  expression  of 
Bedouin  humour,  wisely  decided  to  take  cover 
while  it  lasted.  Down  by  the  water's  edge  was 
a  line  of  ruins,  beneath  which  ran  a  dry  ditch, 
closed  at  one  end  by  the  sea.  The  master  ordered 
the  men  into  the  ditch,  and  with  his  customary 
forethought  saw  that  they  took  with  them  a 
bucket  of  drinking  water. 

The  two  Arab  sportsmen  presently  disappeared, 
but  the  master  still  kept  his  party  under  cover. 
The  two  Arabs  must  have  been  scouts,  for  after 
about  half  an  hour  fifteen  Bedouin,  armed  with 
rifles,  leaped  shouting  upon  the  bank  of  ruins, 
and  burst  into  a  torrent  of  unintelligible  speech. 
Two  Arabs  covered  the  master  with  their  rifles. 
He  held  up  his  hands,  showing  that  he  was 
defenceless,  whereupon  one  of  the  marauders, 
standing  within  six  feet  of  the  master,  drew  a 
bead  on  him.  The  master  ducked  as  the  Arab 
pulled  the  trigger ;  the  bullet  cut  through  the 
flesh  of  the  master's  bent  shoulders,  and  the 
shock  of  the  blow  knocked  him  backwards. 
The  back  of  his  head  struck  the  sand,  and  he 
lost  consciousness. 

G 


82    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

When  he  came  to  himself,  there  was  no  sound 
save  the  groaning  of  a  man  in  pain.  The  master, 
getting  dizzily  to  his  feet,  the  blood  flowing  from 
his  wound,  which  hurt  him  exceedingly,  perceived 
the  carpenter,  writhing  on  the  ground  near  the 
water's  edge.  The  man  was  horribly  wounded  ; 
he  implored  the  master  to  drag  him  away  from 
the  water.  The  master,  in  spite  of  the  pain  of 
his  wound,  tried  to  move  the  man,  but  he  was 
too  heavy. 

In  the  sea  close  by,  the  body  of  the  steward 
was  floating,  face  downwards.  Further  up  the 
trench  lay  the  little  Italian  messroom  boy,  he 
who  had  suffered  so  dreadfully  in  the  boat.  But 
all  was  over  for  the  little  Italian,  in  this  world. 

The  master,  from  where  he  was,  could  see 
none  other  of  his  party.  He  kept  his  gaze  to 
seaward,  passionately  expecting,  in  this  last 
extremity,  the  boat  for  which  the  two  Greeks 
had  gone  with  the  friendly  Arab.  Now  and  again 
he  gave  the  carpenter  water  to  drink. 

So  he  waited,  in  company  with  two  dead  and 
one  dying.  And  then  at  last  he  beheld  the  smoke 
of  a  steamer,  and  a  little  after  made  out  the 
Italian  colours  she  was  flying.  She  rounded 
into  the  bay  ;  away  came  a  boat  crammed  with 
soldiers  ;  the  master  tottered  out  from  his  ditch, 
and  the  first  thing  he  saw  was  another  sailor,  a 
coloured  man,  lying  prone  and  bleeding  on  the 
sand.  He  was  still  alive,  and  he  told  the  master 
that  the  Bedouin  had  shot  and  bayoneted  him 
and  left  him  for  dead,  and  that  they  had  carried 
away  the  rest  of  the  crew. 

The  soldiers,  landing,  spread  out  in  pursuit 


THE   CASTAWAYS  83 

of  the  Arabs;  but  these  savages  were  out  of 
sight.  The  Italian  officer  in  command  conveyed 
the  master,  the  two  wounded  men  and  the  two 
dead  on  board  the  steamer.  The  carpenter  died 
while  his  wounds  were  being  dressed.  There 
were  then  left  alive  the  master  and  the  coloured 
seaman. 

The  Italians  took  the  living  and  the  dead  to 
their  military  post.  The  master  and  the  seaman 
were  placed  in  the  military  hospital.  The  bodies 
of  the  two  men  and  of  the  little  Italian  were 
buried  with  full  military  honours.  Throughout, 
the  master  and  the  seaman  received  the  greatest 
kindness  from  the  Italians. 

The  master  recovered  and  returned  to  England. 
He  gave  an  admirable  account  of  his  adventures 
to  the  Imperial  Merchant  Service  Guild,  which 
was  published  in  The  Times  of  March  30th,  1916, 
and  upon  which  the  present  writer  has  largely 
drawn  in  framing  his  narrative. 


G  2 


XII 
DOWN   IN  FIVE   MINUTES 

THE  business  of  a  gunner  is  to  stick  to  his 
gun.  When  the  torpedo  exploded  below  in  the 
stokehold,  the  Royal  Marine  Artilleryman  in 
charge  of  the  gun  on  deck  "  brought  the  gun  to 
the  '  ready  '  and  had  a  good  look  round."  But 
he  could  see  nothing  to  shoot  at ;  nothing  but 
the  long,  ragged  swell  of  the  Eastern  Mediter- 
ranean. The  ship  was  heeling  over ;  it  was 
impossible  to  train  the  gun ;  so  the  Royal  Marine, 
with  his  brother  gunner,  ran  to  a  boat  which 
was  filled  with  passengers,  and  tried  to  lower  her. 
But  the  list  of  the  ship,  as  she  lay  down  on  her 
side,  capsized  the  boat.  The  two  Marines, 
perhaps  remarking  that  it  was  time  to  get  out 
and  walk,  slid  into  the  water  and  swam  about 
until  they  were  picked  up  by  one  of  the  ship's 
boats.  Thirty  hours  they  were  adrift ;  and  then 
they  were  rescued  by  one  of  his  Majesty's  ships, 
and  were  thence  transferred  to  a  battleship ; 
"  Gunner  •  —  and  self  remaining  on  board 
H.M.S. awaiting  further  orders." 

So  ended  the  voyage  of  the  two  R.M.L.I.'s 
on  board  the  Royal  Mail  steamer  Persia. 


DOWN  IN  FIVE  MINUTES  85 

On  Thursday,  December  30th,  1916,  she  was 
in  the  Mediterranean,  proceeding  eastwards, 
carrying  503  persons,  of  whom  186  were  pas- 
sengers. The  crew  consisted  of  81  Europeans 
and  236  natives.  At  ten  minutes  past  one, 
without  sign  or  warning,  the  Persia  was  torpedoed 
and  sank  in  four  to  five  minutes. 

The  second  officer,  on  watch  on  the  bridge,  did 
indeed  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  wake  of  a  torpedo, 
but  before  he  could  lay  hand  on  the  wheel  to 
put  the  helm  over,  came  the  explosion.  The 
torpedo  struck  the  ship  on  the  port  side,  burst 
in  the  stokehold,  exploded  a  boiler,  killed  the 
engine-room  staff,  and  blew  a  large  hole  in  the 
hurricane  deck.  Immediately  the  ship  began  to 
lie  down  on  her  port  side. 

She  was  thus  rapidly  heeling  over  when  the 
second  officer,  trying  to  sound  the  emergency 
signal  on  the  whistle,  found  all  the  steam  had 
gone.  He  then  perceived  the  situation,  which 
was,  in  brief,  that  the  ship  was  sinking ;  that 
while  she  was  sinking  she  was  still  moving  forward 
with  her  own  impetus ;  that  her  motion  would 
make  the  operation  of  lowering  boats  difficult 
and  dangerous  ;  but  that  as  there  was  no  steam 
she  could  not  be  stopped. 

The  second  officer  realised  these  things  as  he 
sprang  down  to  the  lower  bridge,  where  was  the 
master.  The  master  ordered  him  to  get  the 
boats  away.  The  second  officer  dashed  to  the 
two  boats  on  the  poop.  During  the  minute  or 
two  which  had  elapsed  since  the  explosion,  these 
were  already  loaded  with  women  and  children 
and  a  few  of  the  crew.  The  second  officer,  working 


86   THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

with  furious  energy,  got  both  boats  lowered.  One 
floated  clear.  The  other,  as  the  ship  continued  to 
lean  over,  was  actually  pressed  down  by  the 
davits,  with  the  weight  of  the  ship  behind  them. 
There  was  no  more  to  be  done  with  it.  By  this 
time  the  deck  was  nearly  perpendicular.  The 
second  officer  struggled  to  two  boats  secured 
inboard,  and  swiftly  loosened  the  gripes.  Then 
he  scrambled  up  to  the  starboard  side,  and  tried 
to  lower  a  boat.  As  in  the  case  of  the  Lusitania, 
the  boat  swung  inboard.  All  these  things  did 
the  second  officer  in  four  or  five  minutes.  Then 
the  ship  sank  under  him. 

The  second  officer  swam  to  a  boat  and  climbed 
in.  She  was  one  of  the  inboard  boats  he  had 
cast  loose.  The  second  officer  took  to  the  oars 
and  picked  people  out  of  the  water. 

The  chief  officer  was  in  his  cabin  when  he  felt 
the  impact  of  a  heavy  blow  upon  the  ship,  and 
the  next  moment,  with  a  great  sound,  everything 
leaped  from  the  bulkheads  and  fell  about  his 
ears.  One  moment  he  stood  dazed  ;  the  next  he 
caught  up  a  lifebelt  and  an  axe,  and  ran  up  to 
the  tilting  boat  deck  shouting  "  Port  boats." 
He  saw  the  second  officer  getting  away  the  boats 
on  the  poop  ;  perceived  that  the  ship  was  sinking 
so  rapidly  that  there  would  be  no  time  to  load 
the  boats ;  and  decided  to  get  them  away  in 
order  to  employ  them  afterwards  in  saving  people 
in  the  water.  Under  his  orders  the  boats  were 
flung  loose,  the  chief  officer  using  his  axe.  Then, 
like  the  second  officer,  he  slid  into  the  water  and 
swam.  He  was  picked  up  by  a  boat  which 
already  contained  over  thirty  persons.  Then 


DOWN  IN  FIVE  MINUTES  87 

he  rescued  more  people,  until  his  boat  was  so 
overloaded  that  he  transferred  several  persons 
to  the  second  officer's  boat. 

No  one  seems  to  know  what  became  of  the 
master,  except  that  he  went  down  with  his 
ship. 

What  of  the  passengers,  among  whom  were 
women,  children  and  soldiers  ? 

One  of  the  passengers,  a  civil  servant,  made 
an  illuminating  statement.  He  was  travelling 
with  a  friend,  and  it  seems  that  both  men  had 
in  mind  the  possibility  of  submarine  attack. 
The  evening  before  the  disaster  the  two  men 
stood  looking  up  at  the  boat  to  which  they  were 
allotted  in  case  of  emergency,  slung  to  its  davits 
above  them,  thoughtfully  contemplating  its 
attachments,  and  they  remarked  to  each  other 
that  one  of  the  securing  pins  was  rusted  into  its 
socket. 

Next  day  the  civil  servant  was  in  his  cabin, 
washing  his  hands  before  going  to  lunch,  when 
there  came  the  explosion.  A  confusing  sense  of 
stress  and  hurry  instantly  took  him,  but  he  acted 
coolly  enough.  He  snatched  his  lifebelt,  and 
quitted  his  cabin  to  go  on  deck.  There  was  a 
lady  standing  motionless.  He  spoke  to  her,  but 
she  did  not  answer.  He  forced  his  lifebelt  upon 
her,  and  ran  back  to  his  cabin  to  fetch  his  fife- 
saving  jacket.  On  his  way  up  to  the  deck  he 
received  an  impression  of  women  and  children 
huddled  together  in  the  corridors,  and  on  the 
companion  ladders,  and  some  were  moaning  or 
crying  out.  Then  there  emerged  from  the  hurried 
confusion  another  motionless  figure  of  a  lady,  a 


88    THE   MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

Frenchwoman.  The  civil  servant  seized  her, 
and  somehow  dragged  her  up  the  stairs.  On 
deck  someone  took  the  lifebelt  from  her  nerveless 
hand,  put  it  about  her,  and  pushed  her  into  the 
water,  whence  she  was  afterwards  rescued.  The 
civil  servant  remembers  seeing  a  steward  carrying 
two  babies.  Coming  to  his  boat  on  the  port 
side,  the  civil  servant  found  his  friend  in  her, 
with  another  man,  the  carpenter  and  a  seaman. 
Two  aft  and  two  forward,  they  were  trying  to 
lower  the  boat.  The  rusted  pin  had  jammed. 
The  friend  cried  out  for  an  axe.  The  civil 
servant,  climbing  into  the  boat,  caught  up  a 
broken  oar  and  passed  it  to  his  friend,  who 
knocked  out  the  pin  with  it. 

Then  the  boat,  being  on  the  port  side,  which 
was  sinking  into  the  water,  swung  violently 
outboard  and  back  again,  striking  the  ship's 
side,  and  pitching  one  man  into  the  sea. 

At  the  same  time  the  next  boat  was  being 
lowered,  full  of  people,  when  the  falls  parted  at 
one  end,  and  the  boat  dropped  perpendicular  to 
the  water,  so  that  all  the  people  were  spilt  into 
the  sea.  The  falls  parted  at  the  other  end  of 
the  boat,  which  then  dropped  on  a  level  keel 
into  the  water,  whence  people  struggled  into  her. 
While  they  were  climbing  in,  another  boat 
descended  on  the  top  of  them,  and  thence  into 
the  water,  so  that  people  were  crushed  between 
the  two  boats. 

The  civil  servant's  boat  was  cast  loose,  and 
the  painter  cut  with  a  pocket  knife,  and  then, 
as  the  boat  was  sucked  right  across  the  ship's 
stern,  the  ship  went  down.  Those  in  the  boat 


DOWN  IN  FIVE  MINUTES  89 

sat  helpless,  their  craft  whirling  in  the  smooth 
swell  of  the  suction. 

They  got  out  the  oars  and  picked  people  from 
the  water,  until  there  were  nearly  fifty  on  board, 
five  of  whom  were  women.  The  civil  servant 
remembers  seeing  a  clergyman  of  his  acquaint- 
ance, swimming  steadily,  and  appearing  perfectly 
composed.  They  were  unable  to  reach  him. 
He  also  saw  two  capsized  boats,  on  one  of  which 
were  two  Lascars,  and  on  the  other  several 
Lascars. 

The  chief  officer's  boat  and  the  second  officer's 
boat  joined  company  with  the  boat  in  which  was 
the  civil  servant,  and  also  with  a  fourth  boat, 
which  was  also  filled  with  survivors,  and  the 
chief  officer  took  command  of  the  flotilla.  He 
ordered  the  boats  to  sail  or  row  back  to  the 
place  of  the  wreck,  in  order  to  look  for  more 
survivors.  But  the  wind  was  against  them ; 
they  could  make  no  way  ;  and  they  were  blown 
in  the  opposite  direction. 

It  seems  that  two  or  three  small  vessels  were 
sighted  during  the  afternoon.  At  nightfall  the 
chief  officer  anchored.  After  dark  the  castaways 
saw  the  lights  of  a  steamer  and  burned  flares, 
but  the  steamer  went  on.  The  next  morning 
they  saw  a  large  vessel,  and  the  second  officer 
went  away  under  sail  to  cross  her  course,  but  the 
ship,  doubtless  suspecting  a  trick  of  an  enemy 
submarine,  altered  course  and  went  on. 

The  people  in  the  boats  tossed  and  drifted  in 
the  sun  and  the  heavy  weather  all  that  day. 
For  food  they  had  biscuits  and  for  drink  water. 
That  night  they  again  saw  the  lights  of  a  ship 


90   THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

and  again  burned  flares.  They  saw  the  green 
light  and  then  the  red  light  glowing  in  a  line, 
and  knew  that  she  was  heading  towards  them. 

The  lack  of  an  officer  to  command  the  civil 
servant's  boat  nearly  resulted  in  the  loss  of  all 
on  board,  for  as  the  ship  drew  nearer  the  passen- 
gers all  stood  up,  and  the  boat,  turning  broadside 
to  the  swell,  was  in  imminent  danger  of  capsizing. 

The  rescuing  ship  was  one  of  his  Majesty's 
destroyers. 

In  the  fifth  boat,  which  was  separated  from 
the  others,  was  Lord  Montagu  of  Beaulieu,  who 
contributed  an  interesting  account  of  his  adven- 
tures to  The  Times  of  January  19th,  1916. 

Lord  Montagu  went  down  with  his  ship,  came 
up,  swam  to  a  capsized  boat  and  climbed  on  the 
keel.  Clinging  to  the  boat  were  many  native 
seamen  and  a  few  Europeans.  Several  presently 
dropped  off  and  sank.  The  boat  righted  herself 
on  a  wave,  and  the  survivors  climbed  into  her. 
She  was  badly  damaged ;  her  bows  were  split, 
there  was  a  hole  in  her  bottom,  her  air-tanks  were 
broken  ;  and  the  men  sat  with  the  water  to  their 
knees.  Every  now  and  then  she  capsized  in  the 
swell.  Several  more  of  the  native  crew  died 
from  exhaustion.  There  was  no  water,  nor  any 
food  except  a  few  spoiled  biscuits ;  and  these 
were  not  discovered  until  the  castaways  had 
been  thirty  hours  without  sustenance. 

At  night  Lord  Montagu  saw  the  ship  which 
the  other  boats'  crews  saw,  and  also  the  ship 
they  sighted  next  morning.  During  the  rest  of 
the  day  nothing  appeared  ;  and  by  the  evening 
Lord  Montagu  told  his  friend  that  there  was 


DOWN  IN  FIVE  MINUTES  91 

no  hope,  and  his  friend  agreed.  Lord  Montagu 
records  that  he  was  oppressed  by  an  immense 
drowsiness,  which  he  was  only  just  able  to 
resist.  But  he  fought  against  the  sleep  which, 
he  believed,  was  death,  because  he  intended 
to  hold  out  to  the  last. 

About  eight  o'clock  they  saw  a  light,  which 
they  took  at  first  to  be  a  star.  Then  they 
descried  the  port  and  starboard  lamps  of  a 
steamer,  and  all  shouted  together.  The  ship 
stopped,  drew  on  again,  there  came  a  hail  from 
her  bridge,  and  her  whistle  was  blown.  When  the 
officers  of  the  vessel  perceived  the  plight  of  the 
men  in  the  boat,  which  was  now  "  like  a  crushed 
eggshell,"  they  brought  the  ship  alongside,  rove 
bowlines  through  a  purchase,  and  hoisted  the 
helpless  castaways  on  board.  So  they  were 
saved  by  the  men  of  the  merchant  service. 

Of  the  503  persons  on  board,  334  were  lost, 
and  169  were  saved.  Among  the  lost  were  121 
passengers,  166  native  crew,  47  European  crew. 
Among  the  saved  were  65  passengers,  70  native 
crew,  34  European  crew ;  and  their  salvation 
was  due  in  the  first  instance  to  the  promptitude, 
skill  and  resource  of  the  ship's  officers,  who  had 
only  four  minutes  in  which  to  do  everything. 


XIII 
THE  RAIDER 

I 

GATHERING  THEM  IN 

THIS  is  the  story  of  some  of  the  British  seamen 
captured  by  the  German  commerce-destroyer 
Moewe,  whose  other  name  was  Ponga,  commanded 
by  Count  Dohna.  That  officer  would  seem  to 
have  studied  the  methods  and  the  code  of  the 
late  Captain  Raphael  Semmes  of  the  Alabama, 
the  daring  and  punctilious  privateersman  who, 
in  the  American  Civil  War,  inherited  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  war  of  1812  and  of  the  Napoleonic 
guerre  de  course  preceding  that  campaign.  As 
for  the  British  seamen,  I  do  but  tell  their  own 
story.  Count  Dohna  had  the  upper  hand — there 
is  no  denying  it ;  and  the  British  masters  had  to 
swallow  their  gruel.  Resistance  was  useless  ; 
even  so,  the  master  of  the  Clan  Mactavish 
fought,  as  you  shall  hear. 

On  Tuesday,  January  llth,  1916,  the  cargo- 
boat  Corbridge  was  steaming  nine  knots  in  the 
North  Atlantic  in  fine,  clear  weather.  About 


THE  RAIDER  93 

two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  master  sighted 
a  vessel  coming  up  astern,  about  five  miles 
away.  She  was  flying  the  red  ensign  and  there 
was  nothing  remarkable  about  her.  The  master 
observed  that  she  was  gradually  overhauling  the 
Corbridge ;  then,  at  a  quarter  to  four,  he  noticed 
that  the  stranger  suddenly  altered  her  course, 
steering  towards  another  vessel,  which  was 
steaming  in  the  opposite  direction,  some  three 
miles  away  on  the  port  bow.  By  this  time  the 
wind  had  freshened,  and  the  sea  was  getting  up, 
and  now  and  again  a  rain-squall  blotted  out  the 
two  ships.  As  the  squall  blew  away  the  master 
of  the  Corbridge  saw  the  flash  of  guns  and  heard 
their  reports,  and  perceived  that  the  vessel 
first  sighted  was  firing  upon  the  steamer  coming 
towards  her. 

The  master  then  understood  that  the  strange 
vessel  which  had  turned  away  from  him  was  a 
German.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  hold  on 
his  course  with  all  speed,  gaining  what  start  he 
could  while  the  enemy  was  engaged  with  the  other 
ship.  It  was  then  four  o'clock ;  the  dusk  was 
gathering ;  and  if  he  could  keep  on  for  another 
hour,  when  it  would  be  dark,  he  might  escape. 

What  was  happening  on  board  the  ship 
attacked  ?  She  was  the  Farringford.  When 
her  master  sighted  the  stranger  at  a  quarter  to 
four  the  stranger  was  flying  the  signal  "  What 
ship  is  that  ?  "  The  master  of  the  Farringford 
made  no  reply.  Then  the  stranger  hoisted 
"  Stop.  Abandon  ship."  The  master  of  the 
Farringford,  perceiving  that  the  stranger,  now 
within  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  was  training  guns 


94   THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

upon  the  Farringford,  stopped.  Up  went  the 
German  ensign,  and  there  came  a  hail,  "  Abandon 
ship  at  once." 

The  master  of  the  Farringford  ordered  the 
boats  to  be  got  away,  secured  his  confidential 
papers,  weighted  them  with  a  lead  sinker,  and 
hove  them  overboard.  The  crew  had  no  time  to 
collect  their  efiects.  They  hurried  into  the 
boats,  one  able  seaman  breaking  his  leg  in  the 
process.  There  were  twenty-two  British  and 
one  Norwegian  ;  and,  although  they  were  under 
the  guns  of  the  German,  they  were  perfectly 
cool  and  steady.  The  master  left  his  ship  last ; 
and  as  the  boats  pulled  clear  the  Germans 
opened  fire  upon  her. 

The  master  was  taken  up  on  the  bridge  of 
the  German.  By  this  time  the  two  ships  were 
no  more  than  a  hundred  yards  apart ;  five  or 
six  shots  had  been  fired,  and  the  master  witnessed 
the  discharge  of  a  torpedo.  It  broke  surface, 
swerved  to  the  right,  and  passed  about  thirty 
feet  ahead  of  the  Farringford.  But  she  was 
already  sinking  by  the  stern  when  the  master 
was  ordered  below. 

The  injured  seaman  had  been  taken  to  the 
sick  bay,  and  the  master  found  the  rest  of  the 
crew  on  the  between-deck,  under  an  armed  guard. 

But  before  he  went  below,  and  afterwards, 
when  he  was  allowed  on  deck,  the  master  of 
the  Farringford  took  careful  note  of  the  German 
ship.  His  observations  and  the  observations  of 
other  British  captains,  may  here  be  given. 

The  vessel  was  painted  black.  Apparently 
her  original  colour  was  white,  as  one  of  the 


THE   RAIDER  95 

masters  noticed  that  there  was  a  streak  of  white 
at  the  water-line.  The  master  of  the  Farringford 
thought  the  original  colour  was  slate.  Showing 
through  the  final  coat  of  paint  were  the  blue  and 
yellow  stripes  of  the  Swedish  colours,  which  had 
apparently  been  blazoned  for  purposes  of  disguise. 
The  name  on  the  seamen's  cap-ribbons  were  of 
various  vessels,  the  name  Moewe  being  carried  by 
the  greater  number.  In  the  chart-house,  under  the 
displacement  scale,  the  name  Ponga  was  printed. 
All  the  masters  refer  to  the  ship  as  The  Raider. 

The  Raider  was  an  armed  merchant  ship, 
cunningly  altered  at  once  to  serve  and  to  conceal 
her  purpose.  Her  bulwarks  were  raised  to  the 
height  of  the  poop  deckhouse,  and  the  passage 
between  the  bulwarks  and  the  deckhouse  on 
either  side  was  decked  over,  and  closed  by  doors, 
from  which  18-inch-gauge  tram-lines  ran  to  the 
torpedo-tubes  abaft  the  foremast.  On  the  deck 
above  the  poop,  where  the  hand  steering  wheel 
would  be,  was  a  gun  cased  in  canvas.  In  front 
of  it  was  a  dummy  steering  wheel.  So  far  as  can 
be  made  out  from  the  reports,  the  real  wheel  was 
fixed  in  the  roof  of  the  deck-house,  in  the  space 
between  the  roof  and  the  new  deck,  in  which  a 
hatch  opened,  through  which  appeared  the 
helmsman's  head. 

High  bulwarks  closed  in  the  upper  deck,  and 
in  these  hinged  flaps  or  ports  of  sheet-iron 
concealed  the  upper  deck  guns.  When  the  guns 
were  manned,  the  ports  dropped  outwards. 

There  were  two  guns  under  the  forecastle, 
supposed  to  be  4.1 -inch  ;  two  larger  guns,  one 
on  either  side,  under  the  break  of  the  forecastle  ; 


96   THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

one  gun,  also  supposed  to  be  a  4.1 -inch,  on  the 
poop,  as  already  described,  and,  so  far  as  could  be 
discovered,  two  guns  under  the  poop.  Total, 
seven  guns.  Abaft  the  foremast,  between  fore- 
mast and  bridge,  were  two  18-inch  torpedo- 
tubes.  Two  torpedoes  in  boxes  were  placed 
between  number  1  and  number  2  hatches.  The 
after-end  of  the  hatches  had  been  taken  out, 
the  coamings  raised  to  three  feet,  and  in  this 
shelter  were  stowed  five  more  torpedoes  in  cases. 

The  use  of  the  tram-lines  was  not  discovered  ; 
but  it  was  surmised  that  they  were  part  of  the 
mine-dropping  gear,  the  mines  being  stowed 
under  the  poop. 

There  were  two  derricks,  and  two  derricks  on 
the  mainmast.  There  was  a  wireless  equipment. 

The  Raider  was  fitted  with  a  single  screw,  and 
her  extreme  speed  was  estimated  at  14 — 15  knots. 
The  crew  was  estimated  to  number  something 
under  300  men. 

The  personal  appearance  (though  not  the 
manners)  of  the  commander  of  this  remarkable 
vessel  escapes  us. 

The  first  officer,  Lieutenant  Robert  Kohlen, 
is  described  in  true  seaman's  fashion  as  5  feet 
8  inches,  fair,  long  face,  twenty-eight  years  of 
age,  clean  shaven,  refined.  Another  officer,  as 
stout,  twenty-eight  years  of  age,  clean  shaven, 
flushed  countenance. 

Another  officer,  one  Kohl,  known  as  "  the 
technical  officer, "  or,  quaintly,  as  the  "  explosives 
expert, ' '  seems  to  have  been  a  talker.  He  boasted 
that  he  had  invented  the  mine  which  blew  up 
H.M.S.  King  Edward  VII. 


THE   RAIDER  97 

Lieutenant  Berg,  described  as  a  most  cour- 
teous officer,  sharp-featured,  with  a  small  black 
moustache,  was  subsequently  placed  in  com- 
mand of  the  prize  crew  in  the  Appam. 

There  seem  to  have  been  four  lieutenants  and 
a  doctor  besides  the  captain  and  first  officer. 
Officers  and  men  wore  German  naval  uniform. 

Such  was  the  ship,  such  were  the  officers,  as 
observed  by  various  British  masters  and  men 
under  painful  conditions. 

While  the  master  and  the  crew  of  the  Farring- 
ford  were  sitting  under  the  armed  guard  on  the 
'tween-decks  of  the  Raider,  the  Corbridge  was 
desperately  piling  on  coal  in  the  hope  of  escaping 
a  like  catastrophe,  or,  for  aught  her  people  knew, 
worse.  Within  half  an  hour  after  she  had  sighted 
the  Farringford  and  saw  the  Raider's  attack,  the 
Corbridge  was  spurred  by  a  shot,  whistling  over 
her  funnel.  During  the  next  three-quarters  of 
an  hour  projectiles  arrived  at  intervals,  the 
Raider,  which  was  overhauling  her  quarry,  being 
then  three  or  four  miles  astern.  At  ten  minutes 
past  five,  the  master  of  the  Corbridge  stopped. 
By  this  time  it  was  dark,  and  it  was  impossible 
to  discern  what  colours  the  strange  vessel  was 
flying. 

But  the  master  of  the  Corbridge  had  been 
under  the  stranger's  fire  ;  he  had  seen  her  attack, 
and  conjectured  that  she  had  sunk  another 
vessel ;  and  he  knew  that  the  stranger's  speed 
was  superior  to  his  own.  It  was  clear,  therefore, 
that  the  stranger  was  an  armed  German  cruiser  ; 
that  she  could  sink  the  Corbridge  at  anything  up 
to  five  miles'  range  ;  and  that  she  could  close 

H 


98    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

on  the  Corbridge  at  will.  He  could  not  fight  the 
German,  not  having  the  wherewithal,  nor  could 
he  perceive  any  reasonable  chance  of  escape. 
He  was  confronted  with  the  inevitable.  So  he 
stopped  and  accepted  it  with  the  seaman's 
stoicism. 

A  signal  lamp  winked  a  question  upon  the 
dark  :  "  What  ship  ?  "  The  master  signalled 
* '  Corbridge. ' '  Then  the  stranger  flashed ' '  German 
cruiser.  Abandon  ship  immediately." 

The  master  made  his  preparations  accordingly. 
Half  an  hour  later  a  boat  drew  alongside,  and 
a  German  officer  with  an  armed  party  climbed  on 
board.  The  officer  took  the  ship's  papers  and 
the  master's  chronometer,  for  which  he  kindly 
gave  the  master  a  receipt,  and  ordered  him  to 
go  on  board  the  German  ship,  with  his  crew. 

The  ship's  company  of  the  Corbridge  numbered 
twenty-six  ;  of  which  thirteen  were  British,  two 
were  naturalised  British,  three  were  Finns,  four 
were  Greeks,  three  were  Scandinavians,  and  one 
was  a  Spaniard. 

The  German  officer  seems  to  have  called  for 
volunteers  to  serve  under  him,  for  eight  of  the 
foreign  seamen  agreed  to  sign  on  for  two  pounds 
a  month  more  than  they  had  been  receiving  from 
the  owners  of  the  Corbridge.  The  four  Greeks, 
the  three  Scandinavians,  and  the  Spaniard 
remained  in  the  Corbridge  in  the  German  service, 
to  work  the  ship  with  the  German  prize  crew. 
The  master,  and  eighteen  of  the  crew,  went  on 
board  the  Raider,  taking  such  personal  effects 
as  they  could  carry.  The  German  officer  sent 
some  of  the  Corbrtdge's  live  stock  to  the  Raider. 


THE  RAIDER  99 

To  the  master  of  the  Farringford,  then,  sitting 
on  the  dark  'tween-decks  with  his  crew,  entered 
the  master  of  the  Corbridge  with  his  men.  What 
they  said  to  one  another  is  not  recorded. 
Probably  "  Up  against  it,  then  ?  "  and  probably 
they  proceeded  to  exchange  narratives. 

At  some  period  of  the  sojourn  of  the  master 
of  the  Corbridge  in  the  Raider,  the  pleasant  officer 
called  the  Explosives  Expert  showed  to  the  master 
a  box  containing  bombs,  possibly  hand-grenades, 
which,  said  the  Explosives  Expert,  would  be 
used  were  any  attempt  made  by  the  captives  to 
take  the  Raider. 

For  the  time  being  the  Raider  and  the  Cor- 
bridge proceeded  in  company.  On  that  Tuesday, 
January  llth,  1916,  the  Raider  thus  set  two 
ships  to  her  score. 

On  the  following  day,  Wednesday,  at  five 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  the  Corbridge  parted 
company. 

The  captives  were  allowed  to  come  on  deck 
for  exercise  for  two  hours  in  the  morning  and 
two  hours  in  the  afternoon,  unless  another  vessel 
was  sighted,  when  they  were  kept  below.  Each 
man  had  mattress  and  blankets.  For  breakfast, 
they  had  brown  bread  and  butter  and  tea ;  for 
lunch,  soup  ;  for  tea,  more  brown  bread  and 
butter  and  tea  ;  for  supper,  nothing.  The  bread 
is  said  to  have  been  good,  other  victuals  not  so 
good,  but  sufficient.  They  were  furnished  with 
tin  plates,  spoons  and  cups. 

On  Thursday,  January  13th,  the  second  day 
after  the  taking  of  the  Corbridge  and  Farringford, 
about  noon,  the  captives  heard  the  report  of  a 

H  2 


100  THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

gun  overhead.  Was  another  hapless  British 
ship  being  held  up  ?  They  waited.  Presently 
they  heard  three  distant  blasts  of  a  steam  whistle, 
and  after  an  interval  down  to  the  'tween-decks 
came  twenty  men  from  the  Dromonby.  A  little 
after,  down  came  the  master. 

The  master  told  his  story.  It  was  the  usual 
story.  He  was  steaming  at  eight  knots  when  he 
sighted  a  ship  off  the  starboard  bow.  She  was 
flying  no  colours.  She  hoisted  the  signal  "  What 
ship  ?  "  To  which  the  Dromonby  replied,  giving 
her  name.  Then,  "  Stop  and  abandon  ship." 
Up  went  the  German  ensign,  and  a  shot  cried 
over  the  Dromonby.  The  report  of  the  gun 
fetched  the  master  out  of  his  cabin  to  the  bridge, 
whence  he  beheld  an  armed  ship  close  to.  The 
master  put  the  Dromonby  astern  and  blew  three 
blasts  on  the  whistle.  The  master  ordered  the 
crew  into  the  boats,  burned  his  confidential 
papers,  and  stood  by  his  ship.  A  boarding  party 
from  the  Raider  came  on  board  and  searched 
the  ship.  They  were  looking  for  a  gun,  for  which 
the  ship  was  fitted,  but  which  was  not  there. 
The  Germans  were  very  anxious  about  that  gun. 
They  opened  the  sea-cocks,  placed  three  bombs 
in  the  ship's  vitals,  and  returned  to  the  Raider, 
carrying  the  master  with  them. 

While  he  was  relating  these  matters  to  his 
fellow-prisoners,  there  came  the  muffled  sound 
of  three  distant  explosions,  and  the  crack  of 
three  gunshots  fired  overhead.  And  that  was 
the  end  of  the  Dromonby. 

Our  friend  the  Explosives  Expert  afterwards 
told  the  master  of  the  Dromonby  that  the  Raider 


THE   RAIDER  101 

carried  six-inch  guns.  Bat  the  master's 'observa- 
tion of  the  ammunition  did  not  confirm  the  state- 
ment of  the  Explosives  Expert. 

That  Thursday  was  a  busy  day  for  the  Raider. 
She  was  picking  ships  from  the  Atlantic  trade 
route  from  morn  to  night. 

At  about  five  in  the  afternoon  the  prisoners 
below  heard  a  clatter  and  a  running  to  and  fro 
on  deck,  and  the  splash  of  boats  going  away. 
Another  ship  ?  They  waited  and  listened,  until 
down  came  the  master  and  the  ship's  company 
of  the  Author,  eleven  British  and  forty-seven 
Lascars. 

The  master  of  the  Author  told  his  story.  It 
was  the  same  in  substance  as  the  others.  But 
he  mentioned  that  the  German  officer  in  command 
of  the  boarding  party  returned  to  the  master  his 
chronometer,  saying  that  he  did  not  desire 
personal  property.  In  respecting  private  property 
the  German  officer  followed  the  code  of  Captain 
Raphael  Semmes  ;  but  in  respect  of  the  chrono- 
meter, there  was  a  difference,  for  Semmes  used 
to  collect  chronometers.  The  Alabama  was 
stocked  with  them.  The  German  officer  kept 
a  bull-dog  which  was  a  passenger  in  the  Author, 
but  the  bull-dog  was  really  cargo.  He  also 
took  food,  live-stock,  the  ship's  instruments,  and 
the  boats.  The  Raider  then  sank  the  Author. 
The  forty-seven  Lascars  were  berthed  aft,  put  to 
work,  and  were  ultimately  retained  by  the  Raider. 

The  master  of  the  Author  came  on  board  the 
Raider  about  five  o'clock  on  that  Thursday, 
joining  the  mess  of  the  masters  of  the  Farringford, 
Corbridge,  and  Dromonby.  Two  hours  later  the 


102  THE  MERCHANT   SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

master  of  the  Trader  was  added  to  the  party.  He 
saw  his  ship  sunk  while  he  was  in  his  boat, 
pulling  across  to  the  Raider.  The  Trader  was 
laden  with  sugar.  Her  crew  consisted  of 
twenty-two  British,  six  Swedes,  one  Norwegian, 
one  Russian,  one  Malay  and  one  American ;  all 
came  on  board  the  Raider,  and  all  lacked  their 
personal  effects,  which  they  had  no  time  to 
collect. 

On  the  following  day,  Friday,  January  14th, 
1916,  nothing  happened. 

On  Saturday,  15th  January,  the  game  began 
early,  with  the  arrival  on  board  at  seven  in  the 
morning  of  the  master  and  ship's  company  of 
the  Ariadne.  The  Raider  was  becoming  crowded, 
having  on  board  by  this  time  the  officers  and  men 
of  the  Farringford,  Corbridge,  Dromonby,  Trader 
and  Ariadne,  like  a  new  house-that- Jack-built. 
But  relief  was  on  its  way,  as  the  German  officers 
(according  to  their  own  statement)  knew. 

II 

THE  TAKING  OF  THE   "  APPAM  " 

On  that  Saturday  the  Appam,  homeward- 
bound,  was  steering  to  pass  100  miles  west  of 
Cape  Finisterre.  She  was  an  Elder  Dempster 
liner  of  4,761  tons  net,  carrying  a  crew  numbering 
about  144,  and  158  passengers,  including  naval 
and  military  officers,  and  ladies,  and  some 
German  prisoners.  She  also  carried  bullion  to 
the  value  of  £36,000.  She  was  fitted  with  wireless 
and  mounted  a  gun. 


THE   RAIDER  103 

At  about  half-past  two  in  the  afternoon  the 
second  officer,  who  was  on  watch,  perceiving  a 
cargo-boat  of  unusual  appearance  approaching, 
altered  course  to  turn  away  from  her.  The 
stranger  immediately  made  a  signal  ordering 
the  Appam  to  stop,  and  her  wireless  operator  to 
cease  sending.  The  master,  going  on  the  bridge, 
and  perceiving  the  stranger  to  hoist  the  German 
ensign,  obeyed.  The  Raider  fired  a  shot  across 
the  bows  of  the  Appam  and  then  across  her 
stern,  approached,  and  lowered  a  boat  with  an 
officer  and  armed  crew  on  board.  She  was 
within  200  yards  of  the  Appam,  her  shutters 
dropped  and  her  guns  visible.  The  master 
described  this  spectacle  as  "  a  great  shock  "  to 
him,  as  no  doubt  it  was. 

The  officer  and  men  boarded  the  Appam,  to 
the  intense  interest  of  the  passengers.  Lieutenant 
Berg,  the  German  officer  in  command,  went  up 
on  the  bridge  and  conversed  with  the  master. 
The  lieutenant  courteously  requested  all  informa- 
tion concerning  the  ship  ;  ordered  the  purser  to 
bring  to  him  the  ship's  papers,  put  the  master 
under  arrest,  and  told  him  to  pack  his  things 
and  repair  aboard  the  Raider,  taking  with  him 
the  officers  and  the  deck  hands. 

Thus  did  the  master  join  his  colleagues  in 
the  Raider  that  Saturday  afternoon. 

In  the  meantime  a  naval  seaman  on  board  the 
Appam  called  for  volunteers,  and  led  them  to 
dismantle  the  gun.  They  managed  to  dislocate 
part  of  the  gear  when  the  Germans  stopped  them, 
and  hove  the  gun  overboard. 

The  women  on  board,  perceiving  the  Raider, 


104  THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

put  on  life-belts,  a  precaution  which  pained 
Lieutenant  Berg,  who  addressed  them  with 
utmost  politeness. 

"  It  hurts  me,"  said  Lieutenant  Berg,  "  to  see 
you  ladies  in  these  things.  Please  take  them  off. 
You  will  be  quite  safe.  We  are  not  going  to  sink 
a  ship  with  women  on  board." 

That  chivalrous  officer  had  indeed  other  uses 
for  the  Appam,  which  was  to  serve  as  escort  to 
the  Raider.  Lieutenant  Berg  proceeded  to  make 
his  arrangements.  He  took  from  arrest  the 
German  prisoners  on  board,  armed  them,  and, 
to  their  deep  disgust,  put  them  on  guard  duty. 
He  presented  to  the  civilian  passengers  of  military 
age  a  form  of  declaration  that  they  would  not 
take  up  arms  against  Germany  or  her  Allies 
during  the  war,  and  requested  them  to  sign  it. 
One  man,  who  refused,  was  sent  on  board  the 
Raider.  The  bullion  on  board  was  transferred 
to  the  Raider.  The  naval  and  military  passengers 
on  board  the  Appam,  the  naval  ratings,  and  Sir 
Edward  Mere  wether,  ex-Governor  of  Sierra  Leone, 
were  transferred  to  the  Raider. 

The  master  of  the  Appam,  coming  on  board 
the  Raider,  remarked  that  her  crew  were  painting 
her  upper  works  white,  and  that  her  hull  was 
black,  the  paint  being  still  wet.  The  captain  of 
the  Raider  informed  the  master  that  if  the 
Appam  had  attempted  to  escape  or  to  use  her 
wireless,  she  would  have  been  sunk.  Then  the 
master  was  sent  below,  where  he  found  his 
fellow  captains,  crowded  together  in  the  foul 
and  airless  'tween-decks. 

For  the  time  being  the  Appam,  in  charge  of 


THE   RAIDER  105 

Lieutenant  Berg  and  a  prize  crew,  remained  in 
company  with  the  Raider. 

The  next  day,  Sunday,  January  16th,  in  the 
late  afternoon,  the  master  and  some  of  the  other 
prisoners  in  the  Raider  were  on  deck,  when  they 
perceived  smoke  on  the  horizon.  They  were 
promptly  ordered  below.  The  Raider  increased 
her  speed.  The  ship  sighted  was  the  famous 
Clan  Mactavish. 


Ill 

THE   FIGHT  OF  THE   "  CLAN  MACTAVISH  " 

The  Raider  was  keeping  the  Appam  in  company, 
under  the  command  of  Lieutenant  Berg  with  a 
prize  crew,  so  that  in  attack  both  ships  could 
be  employed.  The  Germans  had  dismounted  the 
gun  on  board  the  Appam,  but  the  prize  crew  were 
armed ;  and,  for  all  that  the  ship  attacked 
could  tell,  both  ships  carried  guns.  When,  for 
instance,  the  Clan  Mactavish  was  attacked,  the 
master  had  to  reckon  with  the  possibility  of 
the  second  ship  in  sight  also  opening  fire,  a 
circumstance  which  should  be  remembered. 

Thus,  at  half -past  four  on  that  fine  Sunday 
afternoon,  the  chief  officer  of  the  Clan  Mactavish 
sighted  two  steamers  some  distance  away  on 
the  port  side.  Both  were  steering  the  same 
course.  About  half  an  hour  later  the  chief  officer 
noticed  that  one  ship  altered  course  towards 
him,  while  the  other  made  as  if  to  pass  astern  of 
him,  though,  as  he  subsequently  discovered,  her 


106    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

real  intention  was  to  head  him  off.  At  half -past 
five  the  third  officer  came  on  the  bridge,  and  the 
chief  officer  pointed  out  to  him  the  two  steamers, 
among  others  which  were  then  in  sight.  Twenty 
minutes  later,  when  it  was  falling  dusk,  as  one 
of  the  suspicious  vessels  was  rapidly  closing 
the  Clan  Mactavish,  she  called  up  the  Clan 
Mactavish  by  a  Morse  lamp,  and  was  answered. 
Then  the  stranger  signalled  "  What  ship  is 
that  ?  " 

At  this  point  the  chief  officer  reported  the 
situation  to  the  master,  who  ordered  that  no 
reply  should  be  made.  The  stranger  repeated 
her  question.  The  master  then  signalled  back 
'  WTio  are  you  ?  "  to  which  the  stranger  replied, 
"  Author,  of  Liverpool "  (that  vessel  had  been 
sent  to  the  bottom  on  the  preceding  Thursday). 
The  master  in  return  signalled  "  Clan  Mactavish." 
Then  the  stranger,  who  by  this  time  was  abaft 
the  beam  of  the  Clan  Mactavish,  signalled 
"  Stop  at  once.  We  are  a  German  cruiser. 
Don't  use  wireless." 

The  master  of  the  Clan  Mactavish  acted 
instantly.  He  ordered  the  engine-room  staff 
to  give  all  possible  speed  and  the  wireless  operator 
to  send  out  the  ship  s  call  letters  and  her  position. 
Then  he  ran  to  look  out  the  code  signals  he 
wanted. 

The  Raider  dropped  her  gun-screens  and 
opened  fire  at  a  range  of  about  300  yards.  The 
second  shot  entered  the  steward's  room  on  the 
port  side,  bursting  on  contact  and  blowing  to 
pieces  the  steward's  room  and  the  second  officer's 
room. 


THE  RAIDER  107 

At  this  moment  the  master  was  busy  looking 
out  signals ;  the  firemen  below  were  piling  on 
coal ;  the  wireless  operator  was  sending  con- 
tinuously ;  the  gunner  was  standing  by  the 
bridge  and  asking  for  orders,  while  the  Raider 
went  on  firing.  The  chief  officer  went  to  the 
master,  who  told  him  to  reply  to  the  enemy, 
whereupon  the  gunner  opened  fire  upon  her,  the 
apprentice  running  to  and  fro  with  ammunition. 

It  was  a  short  action  and  a  sharp.    The  Raider 

fot  in  eleven  rounds,  the  Clan  Mactavish  four  or 
ve.  The  Clan  Mactavish  was  hit  on  the  fore- 
deck  beside  the  windlass,  then  on  the  water-line. 
Her  engines  stopped.  Then  a  shell  entered  the 
engine-room  skylight,  smashed  the  steering- 
engine,  killed  fifteen  coloured  firemen  and 
wounded  four,  and  filled  the  engine-room  with 
scalding  steam.  The  Clan  Mactavish  was  done. 
She  signalled,  but  apparently  the  Raider  failed 
to  read  the  lamp,  for  the  Raider  fired  another 
round.  Then  the  Raider  ceased  fire  and 
signalled  that  she  was  sending  a  boat. 

Presently  two  German  officers  with  an  armed 
crew  of  seven  men  came  on  board.  One  of  the 
officers  asked  the  master  the  characteristically 
German  question  why  he  fired,  to  which  the 
master  replied,  to  defend  himself. 

The  German  officers  then  lined  up  the 
Europeans  on  deck,  and  ordered  the  native 
complement  into  the  boats.  There  stood  the 
officers  and  men  of  the  Clan  Mactavish,  amid  the 
splinters  and  wreckage  and  blood,  the  steam 
still  hissing  into  the  dark  from  the  engine-room, 
and  contemplated  their  armed  guard  and  the 


108    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

proceedings  of  their  captors.  The  German 
officers  told  the  people  of  the  Clan  Mactavish 
that  if  they  moved  they  would  be  shot.  So 
they  stood  still,  while  the  Germans  destroyed  the 
gun,  and  sent  the  ship's  carpenter  to  sound  the 
well.  At  first  there  was  no  water,  but  a  little 
after  it  was  coming  in,  probably  through  the 
hole  in  the  water-line. 

The  people  of  the  Clan  Mactavish  were  ordered 
into  the  boats,  two  of  which  were  directed  to  go 
to  the  Raider  and  two  to  the  Appam.  The  master 
and  the  two  gunners  went  to  the  Raider,  where 
they  were  treated  as  prisoners  of  war  ;  a  correct 
procedure,  inasmuch  as  in  resisting  capture  they 
became  combatants. 

The  Clan  Mactavish  was  sunk,  probably  by 
bombs.  The  explosion  occurred  about  8.30. 
She  sank  slowly.  The  third  officer,  half  an  hour 
later,  saw  the  last  of  his  ship.  Her  decks  were 
awash,  and  the  red  ensign  was  flying. 

In  the  meantime  the  British  prisoners  on 
board  the  Raider,  huddled  on  the  'tween-deck, 
hearkened  to  the  guns,  not  without  emotion. 
It  occurred  to  them  that  if  the  Raider's  antagonist 
was  a  ship  of  war,  they  might  expect  the  Raider 
to  go  down  with  them.  In  any  case,  at  any 
moment  a  shell  might  burst  on  the  'tween-decks. 
But  it  was  speedily  evident  that  the  guns  of 
the  Raider  were  overpowering  the  other  vessel. 

And  in  due  time  the  officers  and  men  of  the 
Clan  Mactavish  joined  the  party.  The  third 
engineer  was  slightly  wounded. 

Did  the  Clan  Mactavish  hit  the  Raider  ? 
Probably  she  did.  The  Germans  were  naturally 


THE   RAIDER  109 

reticent  on  the  subject.  But  the  Raider  stopped 
at  midnight  for  a  time,  and  the  coolies  among 
the  prisoners  aboard,  who  had  been  set  to  work, 
told  the  chief  officer  of  the  Clan  Mactavish  that 
two  Germans  were  then  buried.  Lieutenant 
Berg  seems  to  have  told  an  American  newspaper 
that  one  German  was  killed  and  two  were 
wounded. 

Admiral  Sir  John  Jellicoe,  who  was  then  in 
command  of  the  Grand  Fleet,  when  the  first 
news  of  the  fight  came  to  him,  telegraphed  to 
the  owners  of  the  Clan  Mactavish : 

"  The  magnificent  fight  shown  by  the  Clan 
Mactavish  fills  us  in  the  Grand  Fleet  with 
admiration.  We  sympathise  deeply  with  those 
who  have  lost  relatives  as  a  result  of  the  action." 

The  master  of  the  Clan  Mactavish  did  not 
know  how  many  guns  the  Raider  mounted. 
What  he  did  know  was  that  he  was  heavily  out- 
matched, and  that  he  might  also  be  attacked 
by  the  second  ship.  But  at  close  range,  even 
with  his  light  gun,  he  may  have  reckoned  that 
he  had  a  sporting  chance.  But  very  likely  he  did 
not  reckon  at  all,  but  simply  resolved  not  to  be 
taken  without  a  fight.  When  he  comes  back 
from  Germany,  where  he  is  a  prisoner  of  war,  he 
may  tell  us. 


IV 

THE   "  APPAM  "   AS  PRIZE 

On  the   morning   of   the   day   following   the 
sinking  of  the  Clan  Mactavish,  Monday,  January 


110    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

17th,  1916,  the  Raider  and  the  Appam  were 
proceeding  westwards  at  full  speed.  In  the 
afternoon  the  prisoners  on  board  the  Raider, 
excepting  the  people  of  the  Clan  Mactavish, 
received  orders  to  prepare  to  leave  the  ship. 
The  masters  of  the  Corbridge,  Farringford, 
Dromonby,  Author,  Trader,  Appam  and  Ariadne 
were  summoned  to  the  presence  of  the  captain 
of  the  Raider,  Count  Dohna,  who  received  them 
in  the  chart-room.  That  officer  informed  the 
captives  of  his  bow  and  spear  that  they  were 
to  be  transhipped  to  the  Appam.  Count  Dohna 
then  read  to  them  the  instructions  he  had  given 
to  Lieutenant  Berg,  in  command  of  the  Appam. 
These  were  to  the  effect  that  if  the  prisoners 
made  the  slightest  attempt  at  riot  or  mutiny, 
the  Appam  would  instantly  be  blown  up  ;  that 
if  an  enemy  (Allied)  cruiser  attacked  the  Appam 
the  prisoners,  if  time  allowed,  would  be  put  into 
boats,  when  the  ship  would  be  destroyed ;  for, 
said  the  Count,  she  was  in  charge  of  men  who 
would  sacrifice  their  lives  rather  than  she  should 
be  retaken.  All  being  well,  the  Count  added, 
the  masters  and  crews  would  be  taken  to  a  safe 
port.  Having  made  an  end  of  his  plain  state- 
ment, Count  Dohna  shook  hands  all  round  and 
signified  that  the  audience  was  over. 

At  four  o'clock  that  afternoon  the  masters 
and  men  of  the  seven  vessels  were  sent  across 
to  the  Appam.  With  them  were  a  part  of  the 
crew  of  the  Clan  Mactavish,  the  passenger,  "  a 
Birmingham  man,"  who  had  refused  to  sign  the 
declaration  of  neutrality,  and  Sir  Edward  Mere- 
wether.  The  transhipment  was  finished  by  6.30. 


THE  RAIDER  111 

The  prisoners  on  bc^rd  the  Appam  were 
guarded  by  the  German  ex-prisoners.  They 
were  allowed  the  run  of  the  ship  below  the  boat- 
deck,  and  were  classified  as  first,  second  and 
third-class  passengers,  and  had  "  no  complaints, 
but  not  too  much  to  eat."  It  was  no  doubt  the 
impossibility  of  feeding  so  large  a  number,  and 
the  inconvenience  of  keeping  them  on  board  a 
fighting  ship,  that  decided  the  commander  of 
the  Raider  to  ship  them  off  in  the  Appam  to  a 
neutral  port.  In  so  doing  he  acted  with  humanity, 
for  he  must  have  known  that  he  was  risking  the 
internment  of  his  prize  when  she  touched  America. 
With  German  forethought  and  precision  the 
Appam  was  dispatched  at  the  moment  when  the 
amount  of  rations  left  would  just  enable  her  to 
reach  port.  One  of  the  masters  reported  that 
when  they  fetched  up,  there  was  very  little 
left,  but  "  no  one  looked  any  the  worse  for  it." 

The  engineer  on  board  the  Appam  was  ordered 
to  keep  nine  knots.  If  smoke  was  sighted,  the 
Appam  turned  away  from  it  to  avoid  pursuit  and 
increased  her  speed.  Her  wireless  operator  was 
constantly  at  work.  In  case  of  emergency  a 
bomb  was  placed  in  the  engine-room  in  charge 
of  two  sentries. 

For  twenty-four  hours  the  Appam  kept  in 
company  with  the  Raider,  which  then  dis- 
appeared. 

On  February  1st,  1916,  after  a  fortnight's 
voyage,  the  Appam  arrived  in  Hampton  Roads, 
U.S.A.  On  the  following  day  the  British  masters 
were  allowed  to  go  on  shore  to  see  the  British 
naval  attache.  The  next  day,  after  various 


112    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

formalities,  the  Appam  went  to  Newport  News, 
where  the  British  prisoners  were  set  free.  They 
parted  from  Lieutenant  Berg  on  excellent  terms. 
According  to  their  testimony,  the  politeness  of 
the  Germans  throughout  was  "  most  marked." 

The  released  captives  went  to  New  York.  It 
must  have  been  a  pleasant  change. 

On  July  29th  following,  the  Federal  Court  of 
Norfolk,  Virginia,  decided  the  case  of  the  Appam 
in  favour  of  the  British  owners,  holding  that  the 
German  Government  lost  all  legal  claim  upon 
the  Appam  when  she  was  brought  into  neutral 
waters  with  the  intention  of  laying  her  up  for 
an  indefinite  period. 


SUBSEQUENT  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  RAIDER 

After  parting  company  with  the  Appam,  the 
Raider  steered  for  the  mouth  of  the  Amazon, 
where  she  arrived  towards  the  end  of  January. 
On  January  27th  the  Corbridge,  which  had  been 
captured  on  the  llth  and  placed  in  charge  of  a 
prize  crew,  arrived  according  to  instructions ; 
and  during  the  three  following  days  the  Raider 
was  coaling  from  her.  On  January  30th  the 
Raider  sank  the  Corbridge,  and  so  departed. 
By  February  9th  the  steamships  Horace  and 
Flamenco,  the  sailing  ship  Edinburgh,  and  the 
Belgian  steamship  Luxembourg  were  put  down, 
and  the  steamship  Westburn  was  captured  and 
put  in  charge  of  a  prize  crew.  On  February  9th 


THE  RAIDER  113 

the  chief  officer  and  others  of  the  people  of  the 
Clan  Mactavish  were  sent  on  board  the  Wesiburn 
and  were  subsequently  landed  at  Teneriffe. 

The  captain  and  the  two  naval  gunners  and 
the  Lascars  of  the  Clan  Mactavish  were  kept  on 
board  the  Raider. 

On  February  23rd,  the  Raider  sank  the  West- 
burn  in  Spanish  territorial  waters. 

On  February  25th  the  Raider  sank  the  Saxon 
Prince.  Three  days  later  the  Raider  was  in  the 
North  Sea,  her  funnels  transformed  from  grey 
to  yellow  with  black  tops,  and  the  Swedish 
colours  blazoned  on  either  side  the  hull. 

Early  in  March  the  Raider  entered  a  German 
port. 

According  to  the  statement  made  by  the  First 
Lord  of  the  Admiralty  on  March  28th,  1916,  the 
toll  of  British  ships  captured  or  sunk  by  the 
Raider  is  as  follows :  Farringford,  Cartridge, 
Author,  Dromonby,  Trader,  Clan  Mactavish, 
Horace,  Flamenco,  Edinburgh,  Saxon  Prince, 
Westburn,  Appam.  To  these  must  be  added 
the  Ariadne  and  the  Belgian  steamship  Luxem- 
bourg. 

The  English  admire  nothing  so  much  as  the 
success  of  an  enemy. 


XIV 
A   GALLANT   WARNING 

ON  a  pleasant  May  morning  in  the  year  1916 
a  company  assembled  in  a  room  of  the  Royal 
Naval  Reserve  barracks  of  a  South  Coast  port. 
Here  were  officers  and  men  of  the  Royal  Navy 
and  of  the  mercantile  marine,  come  to  do  honour 
to  a  merchant  ship  master.  That  officer  had 
been  as  near  to  death  as  may  be  ;  not  (you  will 
say)  an  unusual  circumstance ;  but  he  dared 
everything  to  save  others.  Therefore  you  may 
behold  with  the  inward  eye  of  retrospection  a 
commander  of  the  Royal  Navy  handing  a  gold 
watch  to  the  embarrassed  master,  who  is  not 
accustomed  to  these  ceremonies,  and  who  finds 
a  difficulty  in  discovering  the  right  responses  in 
the  ritual. 

The  commander  explains  that,  as  the  legend 
engraven  on  the  watch  testifies,  it  is  presented 
to  the  master  "  by  the  London  Group  of  War 
Risk  Associations,  with  the  approval  of  the 
Admiralty,  in  recognition  of  his  efforts  to  save 
other  ships  from  contact  with  German  mines  on 
February  12th,  1916." 


114 


A  GALLANT  WARNING  115 

And  how  did  the  master  do  it  ? 

He  was  taking  the  little  steamship  Cedarwood 
down  the  East  Coast,  bound  for  France  laden 
with  pig-iron.  There  was  half  a  gale  of  wind, 
and  there  was  a  choppy  sea.  It  was  about  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning  when  the  look-out  seaman 
perceived  a  floating  mine.  Off  the  starboard  bow 
the  bright  scarlet  of  the  mine  gleamed  in  and 
out  the  waves.  Now  where  there  is  one  mine  there 
are  probably  others,  especially  if  they  are  sown 
by  an  enemy  submarine  in  the  coastwise  track 
of  shipping  ;  and  there  were  some  fifteen  vessels 
steaming  at  various  distances  astern  of  the 
Cedarwood. 

The  master  did  not  hesitate  for  an  instant. 
He  eased  down,  hoisted  flags  signifying  "  sub- 
marine mines  are  about,"  and  made  the  same 
signal  with  steam  whistle.  Then  he  steamed  in 
a  circle  about  the  mine,  in  order  both  to  attract 
a  patrol  boat  and  to  show  to  the  ships  following 
him  where  was  the  danger. 

Thus  the  master  swung  the  Cedarwood  through 
the  circle  which  was  almost  certain  to  intersect 
the  line  of  mines,  if  other  mines  there  were. 
And  if  there  were,  they  would  be  moored  out  of 
sight  at  a  depth  beneath  the  surface  nicely 
calculated  to  strike  the  hull  of  the  Cedarwood. 
So  small  a  vessel  striking  a  mine  would  be  blown 
to  atoms. 

Nevertheless  the  master  continued  to  circum- 
navigate the  scarlet  floating  mine  for  about  a 
quarter  of  an  hour. 

"  At  about  10.20  a.m.,"  so  runs  the  master's 
report,  "  I  was  on  the  bridge  together  with  the 

I  2 


116  THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

mate,  when  I  heard  a  terrible  explosion,  and  the 
fore  end  of  the  ship  seemed  to  go  up  in  the  air, 
also  some  of  the  pig-iron  cargo,  at  the  same  time 
where  I  was  standing  (the  upper  bridge)  seemed 
to  fall  underneath  me.  I  did  not  see  the  mate 
again,  and  was  sucked  down  with  the  ship,  and 
I  have  a  recollection  of  getting  hold  of  the 
flagstaff  on  the  stern,  therefore  I  must  have  been 
carried  right  aft  with  the  force  of  the  water." 

This  simple  statement  is  singularly  illuminating. 
The  tremendous  shock  and  paralysing  instancy 
of  the  explosion  inhibit  verification  by  the  senses 
of  what  is  happening.  Therefore  the  master  says 
the  fore  end  of  the  ship  "  seemed  "  to  go  up  in 
the  air,  and  the  bridge  "  seemed  "  to  fall  under 
him.  As  a  matter  of  fact  both  these  things  did 
happen,  and  they  happened  simultaneously.  The 
master  partially  lost  consciousness,  for  he  did  not 
remember  being  swept  aft,  buried  in  water.  He 
thinks  he  must  have  been  so  swept,  because  he 
recalls  clutching  the  flagstaff  astern.  It  would 
seem,  therefore,  that  an  explosion  partially  or 
wholly  paralyses  consciousness,  and  most  often 
effects  an  instant  annihilation. 

The  master  was  drawn  down  with  the  frag- 
ments of  the  ship,  smashed  machinery  and  masses 
of  pig-iron.  He  struggled  to  the  surface,  saw  a 
hatch  floating,  swam  to  it,  and  clung  to  it. 
Then,  over  the  breaking  sea,  he  perceived  the 
stern  of  a  steamer,  and  a  white  boat  surging 
towards  him.  He  saw  the  men  in  the  boat  haul 
first  one  man  and  then  another  from  the  water, 
and  then  he  was  helped  on  board.  On  the  way 
back  the  boat  picked  up  another  seaman  who 


A  GALLANT  WARNING  117 

was  floating  on  a  piece  of  wreckage,  and  the  four 
soaked,  dazed  and  shivering  men  were  brought 
on  board  the  steamer,  where  "  they  were  all 
very  kindly  treated."  In  the  meantime  two 
more  men  were  rescued  by  another  steamer. 
Both  these  vessels,  with  the  rest  sailing  on  that 
route,  had  been  saved  by  the  sacrifice  of  the 
Cedarwood.  Six  men,  including  the  master,  were 
rescued  ;  six  were  drowned. 

The  next  day,  Sunday,  early  in  the  morning, 
there  rose  upon  the  master's  grateful  vision  the 
grey  spire  of  Gravesend  Church,  known  to  seamen 
all  the  world  over  as  the  half-way  mark  between 
the  Nore  and  Port  of  London ;  and  the  hill  of 
huddled  red-roofed  houses,  and  the  watermen 
coming  alongside  in  their  black  wherries. 

Presently  the  master  landed  beside  the  old 
taverns  leaning  upon  one  another  along  the  river- 
wall,  and  trod  once  more  the  grey  stones  of  the 
deserted  streets,  sunk  in  Sunday  quiet. 


XV 

THE  FIGHT  OF  THE  "  GOLDMOUTH " 

THE  wireless  operator  lay  in  hospital,  because 
his  foot  had  been  blown  off,  and  beside  his  bed, 
writing  down  his  statements,  sat  a  naval  officer. 
"  The  last  message  received  was  in  code,  which 
I  took  to  the  captain  on  the  bridge  to  be  decoded, 
but  this  was  not  done  owing  to  the  fact  that  the 
captain  had  thrown  overboard  the  code-book, 
the  vessel  being  then  in  imminent  danger  of 
capture." 

Such,  in  fact,  was  the  situation  on  board  the 
Goldmouth  on  the  afternoon  of  March  31st,  1916. 
She  was  homeward  bound,  carrying  oil,  and  was 
within  some  hours  of  the  Channel,  steaming 
about  ten  knots.  At  about  twenty  minutes  to 
one  the  master  descried  the  conning  tower  of 
a  submarine  rising  out  of  the  water  some  three 
miles  away  on  the  starboard  beam,  and  approach- 
ing the  Goldmouth.  Ten  minutes  afterwards  the 
submarine  opened  fire. 

Then  began  a  running  fight  waged  furiously 
for  more  than  an  hour.  The  submarine,  mounting 
two  guns,  fired  about  ten  rounds  a  minute,  at  a 


118 


THE  FIGHT  OF  THE   "  GOLDMOUTH "    119 

range  longer  than  the  range  of  the  single  small 
gun  carried  by  the  Goldmouth. 

The  master  hoisted  his  colours  half-mast,  and 
gave  the  order  to  open  fire.  Thereafter  the  two 
gunners  of  the  Goldmouth  served  their  little  gun 
as  best  they  might,  under  the  continuous  fire  of 
the  submarine.  A  shell  smashed  half  the  bridge 
of  the  Goldmouth,  another  pierced  the  deck  and 
exploded  in  an  oil  tank,  the  officers'  cabins 
were  wrecked,  the  hull  was  pierced  in  several 
places,  and  the  oil  oozed  through  the  holes  and 
spread  upon  the  sea.  Soon  after  the  fight  began, 
the  main  steam  pipe  was  damaged  and  the  speed 
of  the  Goldmouth  dropped  to  three  or  four  knots. 

So  the  stricken  vessel,  firing  about  once  a 
minute,  crawled  through  the  spreading  surface 
of  oil,  splinters  flying,  shot  after  shot  striking 
her.  The  master  remained  on  the  bridge.  The 
wireless  operator,  true  to  his  service,  continued 
to  send  out  calls  for  help.  He  worked  under 
great  disabilities.  Amid  the  incessant  firing,  it 
was  almost  impossible  to  hear  the  answers  he 
received.  But  answers  were  sent  from  a  distant 
patrol  vessel.  She  was  too  far  away  to  arrive 
in  time  to  help  the  Goldmouth,  but  she  seems  to 
have  signalled  in  plain  language  the  course  the 
Goldmouth  was  to  steer.  The  code  messages  could 
not  be  accurately  decoded  because  the  master 
had  thrown  overboard  his  confidential  papers. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  affair  the  wireless 
operator  had  his  foot  blown  off.  It  is  extra- 
ordinary that  the  only  other  casualty  was  the 
loss  of  a  finger  suffered  by  a  Chinaman. 

By  a  little  after  two  o'clock  the  gunners  of 


120  THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

the  Goldmouth  had  expended  the  whole  of  their 
ammunition.  Outranged  and  out-gunned,  they 
had  not  scored  a  single  hit.  The  Goldmouth 
was  totally  disabled.  Having  done  all  that  it 
was  possible  to  do,  the  master  decided  to  abandon 
his  ship. 

The  chief  officer  stated  in  evidence  that  he 
considered  "  the  master  complied  with  Admiralty 
instructions  and  took  all  possible  steps  to  avoid 
being  captured  or  sunk.  The  ship's  speed  was 
greatly  reduced  owing  to  steam-pipe  being  hit 
by  shells,  and  she  was  outdistanced  by  the 
submarine.  The  ship  was  hopelessly  outclassed 
in  guns,  and  only  stopped  firing  when  all  ammuni- 
tion had  been  expended  and  ship  disabled." 

Such  is  the  official  testimony,  officially  phrased. 
The  master's  evidence  is  not  available,  for  a 
reason  which  will  appear. 

He  ordered  the  crew  into  boats.  There  were 
only  two  left,  a  lifeboat  and  a  smaller  boat. 
Three  lifeboats  and  a  smaller  boat  had  been 
smashed  by  shells.  By  this  time  the  submarine 
was  close  to  the  Goldmouth.  The  German 
officer  ordered  the  boats  to  come  alongside  the 
submarine.  The  master  was  haled  on  board, 
where  the  Germans  greeted  him  with  curses  and 
threatenings.  Many  Germans  believe  that  any 
resistance  to  their  sovereign  will  is  a  kind  of 
blasphemy.  The  commander  of  the  submarine 
took  the  master  prisoner,  and  a  prisoner  he 
remains. 

The  Germans,  upon  being  asked  to  give  first- 
aid  dressings  to  the  wounded  wireless  operator 
and  the  Chinaman,  refused. 


THE  FIGHT  OF  THE   "  GOLDMOUTH "    121 

The  German  officer  ordered  the  boats  away, 
and  again  opened  fire  on  the  Goldmouih.  He 
fired  sixty  rounds,  and  discharged  two  torpedoes 
at  close  range,  and  so  sank  the  ship.  Then  he 
went  away. 

The  two  boats  pulled  for  three  hours,  when 
they  were  rescued  by  a  trawler. 

The  crew  of  the  Goldmouth  consisted  of  twelve 
British  and  forty-seven  Chinamen.  "  All  be- 
haved well,  especially  the  British." 


XVI 
THE  WORTH   OF   A  LIFE 

SERENE  moonlight,  and  a  big  cargo-boat 
rolling  eastwards  midmost  of  the  Mediterranean, 
the  watch  on  deck  savouring  the  breath  of  the 
cool  night.  It  was  midnight  of  July  15th-16th, 
1916.  Save  for  the  murmur  of  the  engines,  there 
was  silence,  and  the  darkened  and  flashing  field 
of  water  was  empty.  Then,  low  down  on  the 
surface,  there  shone  a  tongue  of  fire ;  there 
came  the  detonation  of  a  gun,  sudden  and 
startling,  and  a  shell  whined  in  the  air  somewhere 
near  the  Virginia.  The  master,  who  was  below 
in  his  cabin,  ran  up  to  the  bridge. 

As  the  master  came  up  he  found  the  firemen 
rushing  up  from  the  stokehold,  and  ordered 
them  below  again. 

At  first  the  master  could  see  nothing ;  and, 
not  knowing  whence  or  by  whom  the  shot  was 
fired,  he  stopped  the  engines.  Then  he  descried 
the  conning-tower  of  a  submarine  five  or  six 
hundred  yards  astern  and  overhauling  him. 
The  master  instantly  ordered  full  speed  ahead 
and  steered  to  keep  the  enemy  astern. 


122 


THE  WORTH  OF  A  LIFE  128 

The  submarine  fired,  and  continued  to  fire. 
Then  began  a  chase  in  which  the  submarine,  with 
her  high  speed  and  small  turning  circle,  easily 
countered  the  manoeuvres  of  the  hunted  ship, 
keeping  steadily  on  her  port  quarter.  The 
firemen  stuck  to  their  work,  but  nine  and  a  half 
knots  was  the  best  the  ship  could  do.  Now  and 
again  she  was  hit.  The  Virginia  was  unarmed. 
The  master  ordered  the  wireless  operator  to 
send  the  distress  call,  S.O.S.,  and  he  received 
from  some  unknown  ship  the  reply  "  Coming." 
But  no  ship  came.  The  master,  in  case  of 
emergencies,  destroyed  his  confidential  papers, 
and  held  on.  Whether  or  not  some  of  the  crew 
were  wounded  during  the  chase  is  uncertain. 

After  half  an  hour  a  shell  smashed  the  funnel, 
filling  the  engine-room  with  soot  and  ashes, 
whereupon  the  engineers  and  firemen  came  on 
deck,  and  the  master  decided  that  the  game  was 
up.  He  stopped  the  ship  and  ordered  the  men 
into  the  boats.  The  submarine  continued  to 
fire. 

There  was  the  stricken  ship,  rolling  in  a  cloud 
of  smoke  and  steam,  the  boats  rising  and  falling 
alongside,  the  men  scrambling  down  the  life-lines, 
and,  beyond,  the  submarine  leisurely  firing.  The 
shells  struck  the  ship  and  the  splinters  flew  among 
the  hurrying  men.  Ten  of  them  were  wounded. 

Twenty-five  men  got  away  in  three  boats  and 
rowed  clear  of  the  ship.  The  fourth  boat  had 
been  hit  and  was  lying  alongside  full  of  water. 
The  master,  the  chief  officer  and  twenty-three 
others  were  left  on  board  to  get  away  as  best 
they  might.  The  chief  engineer,  the  wireless 


124  THE   MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

operator  and  the  chief  steward,  the  carpenter 
and  a  seaman  stayed  by  the  master  and  chief 
officer  and  helped  their  1o  get  the  men  into  the 
water-logged  boat.  They  were  all  embarked,  as, 
in  the  stress  and  tumult,  they  believed,  except 
the  master  and  the  chief  officer,  when  the  master 
discovered  a  wounded  man  of  the  native  crew. 
The  chief  officer  stayed  to  help  the  master  lift 
the  helpless  man  and  lower  him  into  the  boat. 

At  the  same  time  they  perceived  the  white 
track  of  a  torpedo  swiftly  lengthening  towards 
the  ship,  saw  it  strike  the  hull,  glance  off,  and 
turn  back.  At  about  sixty  yards'  distance  it 
exploded,  flinging  up  a  column  of  water. 

The  master  and  the  chief  officer  had  lowered 
the  wounded  man  into  the  boat,  when  they  saw 
the  track  of  another  torpedo.  They  were  still 
on  board  when  the  torpedo  struck  the  Virginia 
full  under  the  main  rigging,  port  side,  below  the 
water-line,  tearing  her  to  pieces.  Instantly  she 
settled  down,  and  the  master  and  the  chief 
officer  were  drawn  down  with  her.  But  she  did 
not  sink  at  once.  The  master,  struggling  to  the 
surface,  laid  hold  on  her  bows,  and  drew  breath. 
Then  down  she  went,  and  down  with  her  again 
went  the  master.  He  came  up  again  and  was 
hauled  into  the  water-logged  boat. 

The  chief  officer  was  never  seen  again.  He 
lost  his  life  because  he  remained  with  the  master 
to  help  him  to  save  the  wounded  man. 

Exactly  what  happened  to  the  water-logged 
and  crowded  boat  lying  alongside  when  the  ship 
went  down  is  not  clear.  She  was  drawn  down 
with  the  ship,  but  she  seems  to  have  kept  right 


THE   WORTH   OF  A  LIFE  125 

side  up.  In  any  case,  she  remained  afloat,  and 
an  hour  and  a  half  afterwards  she  was  picked  up 
by  a  French  patrol  boat. 

Whether  or  not  the  submarine  dived  after 
firing  the  second  torpedo  and  departing,  the 
master  was  unable  to  state,  because,  as  he  says, 
he  "  was  under  the  water  at  the  time." 

While  these  things  were  happening  in  the 
Virginia  two  of  the  other  three  boats  were 
standing  off,  and  the  third  officer  in  the  other 
boat  was  ordered  by  the  commander  of  the 
submarine  to  come  alongside.  The  submarine 
captain  asked  the  third  officer  for  information 
concerning  the  ship,  and  then  inquired  if  there 
were  still  people  on  board  her.  He  then  ordered 
the  third  officer  to  bring  to  him  the  master  and 
the  ship's  papers,  giving  him  thirty  minutes  to 
go  and  come. 

About  four  minutes  after  the  third  officer  had 
left  the  submarine  her  commander  fired  the 
first  torpedo.  By  that  time  the  French  patrol 
boat  was  in  sight ;  and  it  may  be  supposed  that 
the  submarine  officer,  seeing  the  enemy,  aban- 
doned his  intention  of  saving  the  captain  and 
the  rest  of  the  crew,  and  decided  swiftly  to  end 
the  business.  As  he  did. 

The  submarine  officers  wore  blue  tunics  with 
high  collars,  and  their  caps  differed  from  the 
German  pattern.  The  men  wore  jerseys  open 
at  the  neck.  The  submarine  was  new  painted 
grey  above  her  water-line  when  running  awash, 
and  black  below.  She  mounted  one  gun  forward 
of  the  conning-tower.  Presumably  she  was 
Austrian. 


126  THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

All  the  boats  of  the  Virginia  were  picked  up 
by  the  French  patrol  boat.  One  of  the  wounded 
men  died  on  board  her,  and  was  buried  at  sea. 
The  rescued  men  "  received  great  kindness " 
from  their  French  hosts  in  the  patrol  vessel. 

In  the  following  September  the  master  was 
awarded  by  the  Board  of  Trade  a  silver  medal 
for  having  remained  on  board  the  sinking  vessel 
in  order  to  rescue  a  wounded  native  seaman. 


XVII 
THE   ENGINEEES  OF   THE   "YSER" 

ON  the  night  of  July  19th,  1916,  the  little 
cargo-boat  Yser,  on  the  way  from  Cette  to 
Gibraltar  in  ballast,  passed  a  vessel  which  the 
captain  took  to  be  a  merchant  vessel,  and 
thought  no  more  about  her.  At  seven  o'clock 
next  morning  the  master  saw  the  conning-tower 
of  a  submarine  start  out  of  the  haze  about  a 
mile  and  a  half  away  on  the  port  bow.  Almost 
at  the  same  moment  came  the  flash  and  report 
of  her  gun. 

The  master  ordered  full  steam  and  fled.  The 
submarine,  rapidly  overhauling  him,  fired  shot 
after  shot,  at  intervals  of  two  or  three  minutes. 
One  projectile  flew  so  close  to  the  master  that  he 
was  blown  backwards  with  the  wind  of  its 
passing.  Fragments  of  shell  hurtled  down  upon 
the  bridge  and  deck. 

During  the  attack,  the  steamship  which  had 
been  passed  by  the  Yser  in  the  night  was  four  or 
five  miles  distant,  beyond  the  submarine  and  astern 
of  the  Yser,  holding  a  parallel  course.  The  sub- 
marine thought  it  worth  while  to  fire  a  shot  at  her. 


127 


128  THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

When  the  submarine  was  within  about  half  a 
mile  the  master  of  the  Yser,  considering  that 
the  enemy  could  fire  into  the  ship  when  he  chose, 
disabling  her  and  killing  the  crew,  decided  to 
abandon  ship.  So  he  stopped  engines  and  ordered 
the  boats  to  be  swung  out.  No  sooner  had  he 
stopped  than  the  submarine  unaccountably  sub- 
merged. Without  staying  to  reflect  upon  what 
was  the  reason  for  the  enemy's  manoeuvre,  the 
master  instantly  seized  the  chance  to  escape, 
and  started  slow  ahead. 

At  first  it  seemed  as  though  the  enemy  had 
really  gone,  and  hope  gleamed  upon  the  people 
of  the  Yser.  The  chief  engineer  below,  after  the 
sudden  cessation  of  the  stress  of  keeping  up  full 
steam  and  working  the  engines  under  fire,  had 
brought  his  men  to  it  again,  and  they  were  again 
doing  their  utmost.  Until  now  they  had  endured 
that  suspense  which  is  the  portion  of  men  below 
during  an  attack ;  unable  to  see  what  was 
happening  on  deck,  hearing  the  incessant  reports 
of  gunfire,  and  momently  expecting  a  shell  to 
burst  among  them.  Now,  having  brought  the 
ship  through  during  a  hot  twenty  minutes, 
having  been  told  that  their  job  was  done,  and 
having  settled  to  abandon  ship,  they  must  begin 
all  over  again.  And  at  the  orders  of  the  chief 
engineer  they  did  it.  Here  is  a  silent  and  homely 
exploit  which  deserves  remembrance,  and  which 
makes  notable  the  affair  of  the  Yser. 

But  presently  the  master  descried  the  menacing 
periscope  cleaving  the  surface  about  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  away  on  the  starboard  side.  The  sub- 
marine had  gained  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  a  few 


THE  ENGINEERS   OF  THE  "  YSER "    129 

minutes.  Then  the  master  perceived  the  track 
of  an  approaching  torpedo. 

It  was  now  a  question  of  seconds.  The  master 
stopped  engines  and  ordered  all  hands  into  the 
boats.  The  whole  of  the  crew,  twenty -five  men, 
got  away,  and  the  seven  officers  were  in  the  act 
to  follow  them  into  the  boats  when  the  torpedo 
struck.  The  chief  officer,  descending  the  life- 
line, was  flung  into  the  sea  and  sank,  dead.  The 
torpedo  blew  an  immense  hole  right  through  the 
ship  from  side  to  side. 

The  boats  pulled  away  as  the  ship  settled 
down,  and  five  minutes  afterwards  she  was  gone. 
It  was  then  about  half-past  seven. 

In  the  meantime  the  strange  vessel  which, 
during  the  attack,  was  steaming  four  or  five 
miles  away  from  the  Yser,  and  gradually  closing 
her,  had  disappeared.  When  the  men  in  the 
boats  had  been  cruising  about  for  some  hours  she 
returned,  picked  them  up  and  brought  them 
into  port. 

Prom  first  to  last  the  enemy  submarine  made 
no  signal  and  hoisted  no  colours. 


XVIII 
SLIPPING   BETWEEN 

THE  case  of  the  Roddam  may  be  cited  as  an 
example  among  thousands  of  examples  of  the 
vigilance  of  the  Admiralty.  It  is  no  fault  of 
the  Navy  that  it  is  unable  to  give  an  absolute 
protection  to  mariners  ;  they  are  now  obliged 
to  fight  in  their  own  defence  as  best  they  may  ; 
and  during  the  continuance  of  the  war  it  is 
impossible  to  record  by  what  means  or  in  what 
degree  the  Navy  has  defended  and  saved  merchant 
shipping  from  mine,  submarine  and  cruiser.  It 
must  be  enough  for  the  present  to  know  that  in 
default  of  the  Navy  the  losses  inflicted  by  the 
enemy  on  the  merchant  service  would  be  in- 
definitely multiplied.  One  might  even  say  that 
in  default  of  the  Navy,  ere  three  years  of  war 
were  done,  there  would  have  been  no  merchant 
service. 

The  Trade  division  of  the  Admiralty  has  an 
eye  like  the  Mormon  eye.  It  is  omnipresent.  It 
beholds  every  officer  and  man,  every  ship,  boat, 
cargo  and  gun  of  the  mercantile  marine.  All 
that  can  be  done  to  avert  catastrophe  is  done  ; 

180 


SLIPPING  BETWEEN  131 

in  the  event  of  catastrophe,  all  is  saved  that 
can  be  saved,  and  brought  home  from  the  ends 
of  the  earth. 

On  September  26th,  1916,  the  cargo-boat 
Roddam  was  going  home  across  the  north-west 
Mediterranean,  in  the  area  lying  between  the 
Balearic  Islands  and  the  Spanish  coast.  In  the 
morning  a  French  torpedo-boat  destroyer  slid 
into  signalling  range  and  told  the  master  of  the 
Roddam  that  a  submarine  had  been  sighted  some 
hours  earlier,  in  such-and-such  a  position,  steering 
a  course  which  would  bring  her  towards  the 
Roddam.  The  master  altered  course  accordingly. 

At  half-past  two  another  French  destroyer 
signalled  that  a  submarine  had  been  sighted, 
and  gave  the  master  of  the  Roddam  his  course. 

The  master  obeyed  instructions,  ordered  his 
two  gunners  to  stand  by  their  gun,  kept  a  strict 
look-out,  and  in  this  state  of  suspense  held  on 
for  two  hours,  in  fine  clear  weather,  a  fresh  breeze 
and  a  tumbling,  following  sea. 

Suddenly  came  the  report  of  a  distant  gun,  and 
a  shell  came  over  from  astern,  pitching  into  the 
water  a  ship's  length  ahead.  The  master  ran  the 
red  ensign  to  the  main,  and  ordered  the  gunners 
to  open  fire.  It  was  a  futile  exercise,  for  the 
submarine,  almost  invisible  six  or  seven  miles 
astern,  had  the  range  of  the  Roddam,  whose 
shot  fell  hopelessly  short  of  the  enemy. 

A  shell  entered  the  chart-room  and  passed  out 
through  the  wheel-house  ;  another  pierced  the 
deck  of  the  bridge ;  others  went  through  the 
after-deck. 

The  master  asked  the  two  Royal  Marine 

K  2 


132    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

gunners  what  they  thought  about  it.  They 
thought  it  was  perfectly  useless  to  try  to  hit  an 
enemy  who  was  out  of  reach,  and  who  could  shell 
the  Roddam  at  leisure. 

The  master  hauled  down  his  flag,  stopped 
engines,  and  ordered  the  boats  away.  The 
action  had  lasted  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 
Within  the  next  fifteen  minutes  both  boats  were 
away.  There  were  eleven  people  in  the  port 
boat,  under  the  command  of  the  chief  officer, 
and  seventeen  people  in  the  starboard  boat,  under 
the  command  of  the  master.  Both  boats  sailed 
to  windward.  There  was  a  nasty  sea,  the  wind 
veering  and  gusty,  and  the  two  boats  were  soon 
separated  by  some  distance.  The  chief  officer, 
after  cruising  for  half  an  hour,  perceived  the 
submarine  approaching.  Coming  alongside  the 
master's  boat,  she  stopped,  and  lay  still  for 
about  half  an  hour.  The  dusk  was  gathering,  and 
the  chief  officer  was  too  far  away  to  see  details. 

He  perceived  the  submarine  to  draw  near  the 
Roddam  and  to  fire  into  her  fore  and  aft,  until 
she  listed  over  to  starboard  and  began  to  settle 
by  the  stern.  Then  the  submarine  came  towards 
the  chief  officer,  who  went  about  to  meet  her, 
but  she  kept  on,  and  so  disappeared  into  the 
dark.  By  this  time  both  the  Roddam  and  the 
master's  boat  were  invisible.  The  chief  officer 
handled  his  boat  so  that  she  might  live  through 
the  gale,  suiting  his  course  to  the  weather. 

In  the  meantime,  when  the  submarine  was 
approaching  the  master's  boat,  flying  a  small 
Austrian  ensign  on  her  periscope,  the  submarine 
officer  ordered  the  master's  boat  alongside,  and 


SLIPPING   BETWEEN  138 

standing  on  the  conning-tower  clad  in  oilskins, 
revolver  in  hand,  shouted  "  Where's  the  captain  ? " 
The  master's  boat,  on  coming  alongside  the  sub- 
marine in  a  lop  of  sea,  stove  in  several  strakes 
upon  the  submarine's  handrail.  Five  or  six 
Austrian  seamen,  dressed  in  brown  overalls,  were 
on  the  deck  of  the  submarine. 

The  Austrian  officer  ordered  the  master  to 
come  on  board,  and  asked  the  usual  question  : 
"  Why  did  you  fire  ?  "  He  demanded  the  ship's 
papers,  and  the  master  gave  him  a  wallet,  which 
contained  some  old  and  valueless  account  sheets. 
His  confidential  papers  had  been  thrown  over- 
board in  a  weighted  bag. 

The  submarine  officer  said,  "  I  suppose  you 
know  you  are  a  prisoner  of  war  ?  "  and  pointed 
to  the  hatch.  The  master,  who  seems  to  have 
held  his  peace  during  the  interrogation,  silently 
disappeared  through  the  hatch  and  was  no  more 
seen.  (Fortunately  the  two  gunners  were  in  the 
other  boat,  and  so  escaped  capture.) 

The  command  of  the  starboard  boat  then 
devolved  upon  the  second  officer.  The  captain 
of  the  submarine  seems  to  have  left  the  subse- 
quent conduct  of  the  affair  to  the  lieutenant,  who 
was  courteous  enough.  As  the  starboard  boat  of 
the  Roddam  was  damaged,  he  allowed  the  second 
officer  to  return  to  his  ship  to  get  another. 

"  I  give  you  a  good  chance  to  go  on  board," 
said  he,  and  towed  the  starboard  boat  back  to 
the  Roddam.  The  lieutenant  stipulated  that 
no  one  was  to  go  on  the  gun  platform,  told  the 
second  officer  he  was  to  steer  north-north-west, 
and  stood  clear. 


134    THE   MERCHANT   SEAMAN   IN  WAR 

The  second  officer,  who  had  been  slightly 
wounded  during  the  attack,  climbed  on  board 
the  forlorn  and  broken  ship.  Hurried  and  shaken 
as  he  was,  he  searched  among  the  wreckage  for 
the  ship's  papers  in  case  they  had  not  been 
destroyed,  but  it  was  impossible  to  find  anything 
among  the  ruins. 

Then  he  got  away  the  motor-boat  and  put 
eight  persons  into  her,  the  other  eight  remaining 
in  the  damaged  starboard  boat,  and  laid  his 
course  for  the  mainland,  which  was  some  thirty- 
five  miles  distant. 

As  the  two  boats  receded  the  darkness  astern 
was  cloven  by  the  flashes  of  the  guns  of  the 
submarine  as  she  fired  into  the  deserted  ship. 

All  three  boats  were  now  adrift  in  a  gale,  the 
chief  officer's  boat  being  separated  from  the  other 
two.  For  the  time  being  the  eye  of  the  Admiralty 
lost  sight  of  them.  But  not  for  long.  About  one 
o'clock  in  the  morning  the  chief  officer,  struggling 
to  keep  the  boat  alive  in  a  heavy  sea  and  with  a 
shifting  wind,  burned  red  flares  to  call  the  other 
boats.  The  second  officer  answered  with  red 
flares  ;  but  in  that  weather  the  chief  officer  could 
not  reach  the  other  boats,  and  did  not,  in  fact, 
see  them  again. 

At  daylight  he  made  sail  and  steered  for  the 
mainland.  After  sailing  for  three  or  four  hours 
he  sighted  a  steamer,  and  steered  for  her,  making 
signals  of  distress.  At  about  half -past  nine  the 
boat  was  picked  up  by  a  neutral  vessel,  which 
landed  the  chief  officer's  party  at  Valencia.  So 
much  for  one  boat. 

The  second  officer's  party,  at  daylight,  were 


SLIPPING   BETWEEN  135 

within  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  of  land,  which 
was  visible.  Their  progress  towards  it  in  that 
weather  was  very  slow  ;  and  at  noon  they  were 
picked  up  by  a  French  man-of-war,  which  landed 
them  at  Marseilles. 

On  the  following  day  the  Admiralty  knew  that 
the  chief  officer's  party  had  been  landed  at 
Valencia,  that  the  master  was  a  prisoner,  and 
that  the  second  officer's  party  had  been  picked 
up  by  the  French  man-of-war  aforesaid.  But 
where  the  second  officer's  party  had  been  landed 
the  Admiralty,  owing  to  some  telegraphic  con- 
fusion, did  not  then  know.  Immediately  a 
number  of  persons  in  various  parts  of  the  world 
understood  that  the  Admiralty  wanted  to  know 
and  intended  to  find  out.  Nor  was  it  long  before 
the  Admiralty  had  accounted  for  every  man  of 
the  Roddam,  not  to  mention  her  boats.  And 
eventually  there  came  to  the  Admiralty  informa- 
tion that  the  captive  master  was  alive  and  well. 

The  master,  like  many  another  British  master, 
knew  that  in  fighting  his  ship,  as  in  duty  bound, 
with  the  weapons  provided,  he  had  but  the 
slightest  chance  of  defeating  the  enemy,  and  he 
also  knew  that  if  his  ship  was  taken  he  would 
be  made  a  prisoner  of  war.  A  ship  too  slow  to 
escape,  a  target  too  small  to  hit,  and  prison  in 
front  of  him  ;  such  at  that  time  was  the  pre- 
dicament of  the  mercantile  marine  master.  He 
tried  to  escape,  and  was  overhauled  ;  he  fought, 
and  was  outmatched  ;  and  so  to  prison. 

The  Roddam  slipped  between  the  protection 
of  the  French  patrol  and  luck. 


XIX 

HEAVY   WEATHER 

THE  submarine  prefers  to  attack  in  fine 
weather.  It  is  pleasanter  for  all  parties  con- 
cerned, and  much  easier.  The  reports  usually 
record  weather  fine  and  clear,  light  airs,  slight 
swell.  But  the  Cabotia  was  attacked  and  chased 
in  a  North  Atlantic  autumn  gale. 

She  left  the  United  States  on  October  9th, 
191 6,  carrying  some  5,000  tons  of  cargo,  consisting 
of  wood  pulp  and  300  horses,  and  steamed  at 
once  into  a  gale.  It  blew  hard,  with  a  heavy 
sea,  almost  without  cessation,  and  after  eleven 
days  was  worse.  On  the  20th  a  full  gale  was 
blowing  from  the  south-west.  The  Cabotia, 
steaming  east,  was  holding  a  zig-zag  course  at 
ten  knots,  pitching  and  rolling,  the  sea  continually 
washing  over  the  decks.  The  master,  the  chief 
officer,  and  the  second  officer  were  in  the  chart- 
house,  working  out  the  position  of  the  ship  taken 
by  observation  at  noon.  They  made  out  that 
she  was  120  miles  from  the  nearest  land,  or  twelve 
hours'  steaming.  These  were  the  dangerous  hours. 
If  nothing  happened  during  the  day,  by  midnight 
the  ship  would  be  safe. 

The  third  officer  was  on  watch  on  the  bridge, 


ISC 


HEAVY   WEATHER  187 

where  an  able  seaman  was  at  the  wheel.  An 
able  seaman  was  looking  out  on  the  forecastle 
head,  scanning  the  broken  hills  of  water  rising 
and  falling  away  to  the  grey  horizon. 

Suddenly,  across  the  smother,  the  look-out 
saw  a  dark  and  glistening  object  emerge.  It 
was  about  three  miles  away  on  the  starboard 
bow.  The  officers  left  the  chart-house ;  the 
master  went  on  the  bridge  ;  and  all  deck  hands 
were  summoned  on  deck.  The  master  put  the 
ship  right  about,  bringing  the  submarine  astern. 
The  submarine  fired,  and  continued  to  fire  at 
intervals  of  about  five  minutes,  while  she 
manoeuvred  to  get  on  the  Cabotia's  quarter. 
But  the  master  of  the  Cabotia  kept  a  zig-zag 
course,  and  manoeuvred  quicker  than  the  sub- 
marine, so  that  the  chief  officer  presently  said 
he  thought  the  Cabotia  could  escape.  She  was 
unarmed. 

The  movement  of  the  ship,  turning  swiftly 
to  port  and  starboard  alternately  in  a  beam  sea, 
was  very  violent.  The  sufferings  of  the  horses 
penned  below  are  not  described,  but  they  may 
be  imagined.  The  engineers  and  firemen,  as 
usual,  stuck  to  their  work  and  kept  the  ship  at 
her  full  speed  of  ten  knots.  It  is  uncertain 
whether  or  not  the  ship  was  hit  during  a  chase 
which  thus  furiously  proceeded  for  an  hour  and 
a  half.  But  the  officers  of  the  Cabotia  clustered 
on  the  oscillating  bridge  were  staring  aft  at  the 
shape  astern.  It  was  now  buried  in  flying 
water,  the  gunner  at  his  gun  plunged  up  to  his 
neck  in  the  sea,  now  emerging  and  firing  with  a 
sullen  flash  and  a  detonation  torn  by  the  wind  ; 


138    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

and  the  people  in  the  Cabotia  perceived  that  in 
spite  of  her  difficult  manoeuvring,  the  submarine 
had  three  knots  the  better  in  speed,  and  was 
overhauling  them. 

The  master  ordered  the  boats  to  be  swung 
out,  and  dropped  his  confidential  papers  over- 
board. No  one  thought  the  boats  could  live  in 
the  sea  then  running  ;  but  they  were  the  only 
chance.  The  wireless  operator  had  been  con- 
stantly making  the  distress  call,  and  a  little  before 
two  o'clock  he  received  an  answer. 

But  by  that  time  the  submarine  was  close 
under  the  stern  of  the  Cabotia,  and  she  put  a 
shell  through  the  Cabotia' s  funnel.  Then  the 
master  stopped  engines,  hoisted  the  signal  that 
he  was  abandoning  ship,  and  ordered  the  crew 
into  the  boats. 

Here  was  another  test  of  discipline  and  seaman- 
ship, to  get  the  boats  away  from  the  rolling  vessel, 
in  that  frightful  sea,  under  the  continual  fire  of 
the  submarine.  Among  the  seventy-four  men  of 
the  crew,  besides  British,  were  Greeks,  Italians, 
Portuguese,  Americans,  Danes  and  Norwegians  ; 
and  all  "  behaved  splendidly." 

There  were  four  boats,  each  having  a  week's 
provisions  on  board,  and  all  were  safely  launched. 
The  boats  were  in  charge  of  the  master,  chief, 
second  and  third  officers  respectively.  In  that 
sea  it  was  all  they  could  do  to  keep  their  boats 
afloat,  and  they  were  immediately  separated  each 
from  the  other. 

The  second  officer,  who  with  his  men  expected 
every  instant  to  be  drowned,  kept  his  boat 
before  the  sea,  the  men  pulling  to  keep  steerage 


HEAVY  WEATHER  189 

way  on  her,  and  so  waited  for  orders  from  the 
master.  He  saw  the  submarine  go  alongside 
the  third  officer's  boat,  and  speak  to  the  third 
officer.  Then  the  submarine  went  close  to  the 
Cabotia  and  fired  twelve  shots  into  her.  The 
Cabotia  settled  slowly  down,  and  about  half  an 
hour  afterwards  she  was  gone. 

About  the  same  time  the  second  officer  sighted 
a  steamer.  He  hoisted  a  shirt  on  the  mast,  and 
pulled  hard  towards  her.  The  steamer  stopped, 
but  made  no  reply  to  the  signal  of  distress  ; 
and  the  second  officer,  tossing  desperately  within 
a  few  hundred  yards,  saw  the  submarine  go 
alongside  the  strange  vessel.  She  carried  neutral 
colours  printed  on  her  side,  and  a  black  funnel 
with  a  deep  white  band. 

Without  taking  the  slightest  notice  of  the 
boats,  the  steamer  got  under  way,  saluted  the 
submarine  with  a  blast  on  her  whistle,  and 
departed.  No  explanation  of  these  circumstances 
is  available.  That  was  what  happened. 

The  second  officer,  abandoned  to  his  fate,  kept 
the  boat  before  the  sea,  and  looked  for  the  other 
boats,  but  he  could  not  see  them.  It  was  then 
about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  Four 
terrible  hours  later  heavy  rain  began  to  fall, 
and  the  sea  moderated  a  little.  The  second 
officer  then  steered  for  the  land,  about  120  miles 
distant,  the  men  pulling  steadily  all  night. 
When  the  ragged  daylight  dawned  on  the 
desolate  sea,  the  second  officer  set  sail,  and  made 
good  way  in  comparative  ease.  At  nine  o'clock 
that  morning  the  second  officer  sighted  a  patrol 
boat  right  ahead.  A  few  minutes  later  the 


140    THE   MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

second  officer  and  his  sturdy  crew  were  safe  on 
board  the  patrol  boat,  and  the  drenched,  cold 
and  exhausted  men  were  sitting  down  to  a  hot 
breakfast. 

In  the  meantime  the  chief  officer's  boat  had 
gone  through  much  the  same  ordeal.  When  the 
second  officer  pulled  towards  the  strange  steamer 
the  chief  officer  was  astern  of  him  and  further 
away  from  the  vessel.  The  chief  officer  also 
made  signals  of  distress,  hoisting  an  apron. 
Like  the  second  officer,  he  saw  the  steamer 
stop,  noted  her  neutral  colours  and  the  white 
band  on  her  funnel,  saw  the  submarine  draw 
alongside  and  converse  with  her,  saw  her  depart. 

At  that  time  the  master's  boat  and  the  third 
officer's  boat  were  within  sight  of  the  other  two, 
and  all  remained  in  company,  though  widely 
separated,  drifting  northwards  stern  to  sea  until 
dark. 

When  daylight  came  the  chief  officer's  boat 
was  alone.  The  chief  officer  hoisted  sail,  and 
laid  his  course  for  the  land. 

The  second  officer,  on  coming  on  board  the 
patrol  boat,  of  course  reported  the  situation  to 
her  captain,  who  immediately  steamed  in  search 
of  the  other  three  boats.  Within  twenty  minutes 
the  chief  officer's  boat  was  sighted,  a  little  and 
solitary  sail  cleaving  the  wandering  waters  ;  and 
presently  he  and  his  party  were  safe  on  board 
the  patrol. 

All  that  day,  all  the  night  and  all  the  following 
day  the  patrol  vessel  cruised  in  search  of  the 
master's  and  the  third  officer's  boats.  They  were 
not  found.  The  second  officer  still  held  to  a 


HEAVY  WEATHER  141 

hope  that  they  had  been  driven  far  to  the  north 
and  would  be  rescued  or  make  a  landfall.  But 
they  were  never  seen  again. 

Thirty-two  officers  and  men  went  down  on 
that  night  of  storm  ;  thirty-two  out  of  seventy- 
four.  In  such  a  sea  a  small  boat  with  little 
steerage  way  might  be  pooped  at  any  moment ; 
that  is,  being  continually  followed  and  overhung 
by  huge  seas,  she  might  fail  to  rise  to  the  next 
sea  in  time,  when  the  following  wave  would  fall 
upon  her,  sending  her  to  the  bottom  like  a  stone. 

Of  this  hazard  the  commanding  officer  of  the 
German  submarine  was  perfectly  aware,  when  he 
forced  the  master  of  the  Cabotia  to  abandon 
ship,  with  the  alternative  of  being  torpedoed  and 
himself  and  the  ship's  company  drowned.  It 
is  also  evident  that  the  submarine  officer  pre- 
vented the  steamer  which  came  along  from 
rescuing  the  men  in  the  boats.  Either  that 
steamer  was  a  German  disguised  as  a  neutral,  or 
she  was  a  neutral.  If  she  was  a  neutral  ship 
(which  seems  probable)  the  submarine  officer 
must  have  told  her  master  that  if  she  picked 
up  the  boats  she  would  herself  be  destroyed.  If 
the  ship  was  a  German  vessel,  the  case  is  no 
better.  The  thirty-two  men  were  murdered. 

The  example  of  the  Cabotia  showed  that  a 
submarine  can  attack  in  weather  so  heavy  that 
a  small  patrol  boat  could  hardly  live  in  it,  and 
even  if  she  came  through,  her  speed  would  be 
considerably  decreased. 

Neither  of  the  two  officers  of  the  Cabotia 
whose  evidence  is  recorded  made  any  mention 
of  the  events  of  that  night,  during  which  their 


142    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

boats  drifted  before  the  wind  and  sea  of  a  North 
Atlantic  gale  in  autumn.  Yet  during  all  those 
dark  hours  the  men,  beaten  upon  by  the  driving 
rain,  soaked  with  spray,  went  on  rowing  and 
rowing  ;  while  the  steersman,  feeling  the  boat 
leap  and  sway  under  his  hand,  knew  that  the 
slightest  failure  in  vigilance  was  certain  death. 


XX 

A   SITTING   SHOT 

THE  ship  was  anchored  for  the  night,  and  the 
chief  engineer,  having  pumped  up  his  boilers, 
closed  all  connections  and  made  sure  that 
everything  was  correct,  as  a  careful  man  should, 
went  up  to  the  deck-house  for  a  little  chat  before 
turning  in.  Here  was  the  master,  who,  having 
seen  that  the  anchor  lights  were  burning,  the 
watch  was  set  and  all  was  snug,  also  felt  disposed 
for  social  relaxation. 

That  day,  February  1st,  1916,  the  master 
and  the  engineer  had  brought  the  Franz  Fischer, 
a  little  ex-German  collier  (now  officially  described 
as  the  property  of  the  Lord  High  Admiral)  down 
the  east  coast,  amid  various  alarms  and  through 
a  thick  haze.  Finally,  the  master  received  a 
warning  from  a  patrol  boat  that  there  were 
floating  mines  ahead.  It  was  then  about  nine 
o'clock  of  a  windless  night,  and  "  black  dark," 
and  the  master  had  decided  to  anchor  where 
he  was,  off  the  south-east  coast. 

The  two  men,  at  this  pause  in  their  toils, 
talked  of  mines  and  submarines  and  enemy 


143 


144     THE   MERCHANT   SEAMAN   IN  WAR 

cruisers  and  the  anxiety  of  navigating  unlighted 
waters,  and  how  they  were  safe  where  they  lay, 
for  a  night  at  least.  But  they  had  forgotten  one 
thing. 

While  the  master  and  the  chief  engineer  were 
thus  peacefully  engaged,  the  boatswain  was  on 
the  bridge,  in  charge  of  the  watch,  with  an  able 
seaman. 

Presently  the  boatswain  remarked  that  he 
"  heard  a  noise  like  an  aeroplane."  The  observa- 
tion interested  the  able  seaman  because,  as  he 
said,  he  had  "  never  previously  heard  an  aero- 
plane," and  he  listened  to  the  strange  tin-like 
humming,  gazing  up  into  the  opaque  darkness. 
The  mate,  who  was  in  his  cabin  adjoining  the 
master's  room  in  the  deck-house,  came  upon 
the  bridge.  The  mate's  opinion  was  that  the 
noise  came,  not  from  an  aeroplane  but,  from  a 
Zeppelin.  The  invisible  thing  in  the  air  seemed 
to  be  circling  about  the  ship. 

The  two  men  in  the  master's  cabin,  hearing 
a  faint,  whirring  sound,  paused  in  their  conversa- 
tion to  listen  to  it.  At  the  same  moment  there 
came  a  knocking  on  the  bulkhead,  and  the  mate's 
voice  asking  the  master  if  he  heard  aircraft. 

"  Yes— what  is  it  ?  J:  said  the  master.  The 
mate  replied  that  he  did  not  know,  but  that, 
whatever  it  was,  it  was  approaching  from  the 
south-east.  As  they  hearkened  the  humming 
died  away,  and  for  a  minute  or  two  there  was 
silence. 

Suddenly  the  vibrating  roar  of  aerial  engines 
burst  upon  the  ship  so  close  above  her  that 
"  the  sound  was  like  several  express  railway  trains 


A   SITTING   SHOT  145 

all  crossing  a  bridge  together,  and  at  its  loudest 
it  would  not  be  possible  to  hear  a  man  shout." 
So  said  the  able  seaman,  who  was  on  deck. 
What  the  boatswain  thought  will  never  be  known, 
because  he  did  not  live  to  tell. 

Then  the  clangour  stopped  once  more  ;  again 
there  was  a  brief  and  terrifying  silence  ;  and 
then  a  tremendous  explosion  in  the  ship,  which 
shivered  all  over,  steadied,  and  began  to  heel 
over  to  port. 

The  master  and  the  chief  engineer,  coming  out 
from  the  deck-house  into  the  alleyway,  were  met 
by  a  falling  column  of  water  and  were  flung 
backwards  into  the  cabin,  while  the  able  seaman 
was  dashed  against  the  door  of  the  galley  and 
partially  stunned. 

The  chief  engineer,  struggling  to  his  feet,  ran 
out  on  the  listing  deck  to  summon  the  men 
from  below,  and  came  to  the  engine-room 
companion  just  as  the  second  mate,  second 
engineer,  steward,  donkey-man  and  mess-room 
boy  came  crowding  up,  all  naked  as  they  had 
tumbled  out  of  their  berths.  The  chief  engineer 
missed  a  fireman,  but  he  had  no  time  to  look  for 
him.  The  ship  was  heeling  over  rapidly.  The 
chief  engineer  ran  to  the  starboard  lifeboat, 
which  was  swung  out,  and  in  which  was  a  seaman. 

At  the  same  time  the  able  seaman,  coming  to 
his  senses,  sprang  for  the  boats,  which  were 
surrounded  by  the  dim  figures  of  naked  men,  and 
which,  as  the  ship  leaned  over,  were  jammed  in 
the  falls.  As  usual,  no  one  had  a  knife.  A  man 
ran  to  the  galley  to  fetch  a  knife.  The  ship  turned 
over,  everyone  on  board  was  drawn  down  with 

L 


146    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

her,  and,  said  the  chief  engineer,  she  "  appeared 
as  if  she  sank  just  like  a  stone." 

The  chief  engineer,  coming  to  the  surface, 
scanned  the  dark  waters,  caught  sight  of  a 
floating  object,  swam  to  it,  and  held  on  to  the 
box  containing  lifebelts,  which  had  been  washed 
from  the  bridge  of  the  ship.  All  about  the 
chief  engineer  cries  for  help  went  up  from  the 
men  in  the  water.  Several  swimmers  gained  the 
box  and  clung  to  it.  In  the  icy  water,  the  dark- 
ness and  confusion,  the  chief  engineer  thought 
that  about  eight  men  were  clustered  about  the  box, 
and  he  remembers  recognising  the  second  mate 
and  the  donkey-man.  The  men  tried  to  climb 
upon  the  box  and  capsized  it.  With  much 
desperate  swearing,  it  was  righted  again,  but  some 
of  the  men,  paralysed  by  the  cold  of  the  water, 
had  gone  down.  Those  who  remained  continued 
struggling  to  climb  upon  the  box,  and  to  capsize 
it,  and  more  men  dropped  off  and  were  drowned. 

The  chief  engineer,  considering  that  he  would 
be  safer  by  himself,  let  go  the  box  and  struck 
out.  He  found  a  lifebelt  floating,  put  it  on,  and 
swam  and  floated  until  he  lost  consciousness. 
The  next  thing  he  knew  he  was  lying  in  the 
bottom  of  a  boat,  rescued. 

Still  clinging  to  the  box  were  the  able  seaman, 
who  was  on  watch  when  the  ship  was  attacked, 
and  the  donkey-man.  The  able  seaman  heard  the 
clank  and  splash  of  oars  and  saw  a  boat  approach- 
ing, when  the  donkey-man  relaxed  his  grasp  and 
sank,  and  the  able  seaman  could  not  save  him. 

The  boat  came  from  the  Belgian  steamship 
Paul,  which  had  been  anchored  within  half  a 


A   SITTING   SHOT  147 

mile.  It  would  have  arrived  sooner  but  for 
accidents.  According  to  the  captain's  state- 
ment (published  in  The  Times),  after  the  explosion 
he  heard  cries  of  distress,  and  got  away  his 
lifeboat,  manned  by  the  mate,  the  boatswain,  an 
able  seaman  and  a  fireman.  In  the  thick  dark- 
ness it  was  at  first  impossible  to  ascertain  whence 
they  came.  Presently  the  shouts  of  three  men 
were  distinguishable,  and  the  boat  went  away, 
and  picked  up  first  the  able  seaman,  who  was 
hanging  on  to  the  box,  then  the  steward,  who 
was  floating  in  a  lifebelt,  then  the  chief  engineer, 
who  was  to  all  appearance  dead. 

Then  the  boat  was  carried  out  to  sea  on  the 
strong  ebb.  The  master  of  the  Paul  waited  and 
listened  for  her,  and  presently  descried  a  signal, 
which  he  rightly  interpreted  to  mean  that  she 
could  not  make  head  against  the  tide.  The 
master  must  therefore  go  to  the  boat's  assistance. 
Steam  was  raised,  and  the  windlass  manned  to 
heave  on  the  anchor.  Then  the  windlass  broke. 
Upon  the  details  of  that  troubled  time  the  master 
is  silent ;  but  it  took  three  hours'  hard  work  to 
reach  the  boat,  with  the  ship's  anchor  dragging 
astern. 

By  that  time  one  of  the  rescued  men  was  so 
far  gone  from  this  life  that  when  he  was  lifted 
aboard  the  Paul  restoratives  were  applied  for 
an  hour  before  he  revived. 

Thirteen  men  out  of  sixteen  were  lost. 

But  their  murderers,  the  crew  of  Zeppelin  L  19, 
also  tasted  salt  water.  The  next  morning  a 
trawler  beheld  the  ghastly  tattered  ruin  of  an 
airship  sagging  in  the  winter  sea. 

L  2 


XXI 
SHIPMATES  WITH   A   PIRATE 

MORNING  of  November  1st,  1916.  A  steam- 
ship rolling  in  the  long  swell  of  the  North 
Atlantic,  pursued  by  shots  fired  from  astern  by 
an  invisible  enemy.  The  Seatonia  slipped  this 
way  and  that  like  a  hunted  animal,  the  master 
scanning  the  hills  of  water  rising  and  falling, 
until  he  saw  the  submarine.  She  was  then  some 
seven  miles  distant.  Smoke,  shot  with  flame, 
continually  burst  from  her  guns,  and  shells 
sang  about  the  Seatonia,  falling  nearer  and 
nearer.  So,  for  nearly  three  hours.  Then  the 
submarine,  running  close  on  the  steamer's  beam, 
signalled  "  Abandon  ship." 

The  master  stopped  engines  and  ordered  the 
two  boats  away.  Fourteen  people  went  in  the 
port  lifeboat,  seventeen  in  the  starboard  lifeboat, 
including  the  master,  who  was  the  last  to  leave 
the  ship. 

The  port  lifeboat  was  in  charge  of  the  chief 
officer  and  was  first  away.  The  submarine  then 
hoisted  the  German  ensign,  and  two  small  flags  ; 
and  as  the  master's  boat  was  launched,  the 

148 


SHIPMATES   WITH   A   PIRATE        149 

submarine  officer  ordered  her  to  come  alongside. 
The  chief  officer,  standing  off,  saw  the  master 
and  the  rest  of  the  people  in  the  starboard  life- 
boat taken  on  board  the  submarine,  and  the 
lifeboat  cast  adrift.  Whereupon  the  chief 
officer  got  under  way,  steered  east  by  north, 
and  (to  make  an  end  of  his  adventures)  was 
picked  up  two  or  three  hours  afterwards  by  a 
neutral  steamer,  and  subsequently  landed  in  a 
neutral  port,  whence,  with  the  thirteen  men  under 
his  command,  he  came  home  in  due  time. 

The  master  and  the  sixteen  others  of  the  crew 
of  the  starboard  lifeboat  were  sent  below  in 
the  submarine,  so  that  the  master  did  not  see 
his  ship  sink ;  but  he  heard  the  "  cough"  of 
the  discharge  of  the  two  torpedoes  which  sank 
her.  The  chief  engineer  of  the  Seatonia,  who 
was  also  below,  says  he  saw  the  torpedoes  fired. 
The  submarine  then  submerged,  and  the  English 
and  the  other  nationalities  of  the  Seatonia9 s 
people  were  alone  with  the  Germans  in  that 
narrow  cylinder,  intricate  and  glittering  with 
pipes,  wheels,  valves  and  every  kind  of 
mechanism. 

The  commanding  officer  of  the  submarine  was 
of  sallow  complexion  and  sharp  of  feature, 
looking  about  forty  years  of  age.  The  first 
lieutenant  was  about  thirty,  a  fair  man  of  middle 
size.  The  second  lieutenant,  a  dark,  clean- 
shaven young  officer,  had  (he  said)  lived  for 
some  years  in  Nova  Scotia,  and  spoke  good 
English. 

The  crew  numbered  forty-six.  They  wore  thick 
felt-lined  brown  coats  and  trousers,  made  of 


150    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

rubber  or  waterproofed  leather.  The  internal 
fittings  of  the  vessel  were  stamped  V  49.  Ex- 
ternally she  carried  no  number,  and  was  painted 
the  usual  grey. 

The  master  says  no  word,  bad  or  good,  of  his 
experience  on  board  the  enemy  submarine.  It 
is  certain  that  he  must  have  suffered  a  good  deal 
of  discomfort,  for  there  is  no  accommodation 
for  passengers  in  a  submarine,  and  little  enough 
for  the  crew.  The  commanding  officer  and  first 
lieutenant  may  have  had  fitted  bed-places ; 
the  other  officer  and  the  men  slept  on  the  floor. 
On  that  night  of  November  1st  the  people  of 
the  Seatonia  must  have  been  packed  like  herrings, 
and  the  air  must  have  become  very  dense.  It 
seems  that  they  were  hospitably  treated.  The 
commanding  officer  asked  many  questions  of 
the  master,  who,  if  he  were  like  other  masters, 
did  not  illuminatingly  respond.  The  lieutenant 
who  had  dwelt  in  Nova  Scotia  appears  to  have 
been  socially  disposed. 

At  eight  o'clock  the  next  morning,  November 
2nd,  the  submarine  captain  invited  the  master 
to  come  up  on  deck.  There,  in  the  keen  air  and 
sudden  daylight,  the  master  beheld  three  British 
steam  trawlers  tossing  on  a  heavy  run  of  sea. 
These  were  the  Caswell,  Kyoto,  and  Harfat  Castle. 
But  the  master  had  not  been  asked  on  deck  to 
admire  the  view.  The  submarine  officer  had 
already  made  his  arrangements,  and  the  master 
was  part  of  them.  The  men  of  the  Caswell  were 
ordered  to  bring  their  boat  alongside,  and  the 
submarine  officer  ordered  the  master  to  visit 
each  of  the  three  trawlers,  to  estimate  the  amount 


SHIPMATES  WITH  A  PIRATE        151 

of  coal  in  her  bunkers,  and  to  open  the  sea-cocks, 
in  the  two  which  had  least  coal,  and  so  to  sink 
them.  Such,  at  least,  was  what  the  master 
understood  he  was  to  do. 

The  master  had  no  choice  but  to  obey.  So 
he  went  away  in  the  CasweWs  boat.  The  crews 
of  the  other  two  trawlers  were  getting  away  in 
their  boats.  No  sooner  was  the  crew  of  the 
Kyoto  clear  of  her  than  the  master  was  startled 
by  the  report  of  a  gun,  and  saw  a  shell  strike 
the  Kyoto.  The  submarine  fired  into  her  till  she 
sank.  Apparently  the  German  officer  decided  to 
hasten  the  good  work. 

Then  the  master  perceived  another  steam 
trawler  coming  up.  She  looked  like  an  Icelandic 
boat,  was  named  Bragi,  and  was  flying  Danish 
colours.  He  afterwards  discovered  that  the 
Dane  had  been  captured  by  the  submarine  four 
days  previously,  and  was  then  under  the  command 
of  a  German  lieutenant,  with  an  armed  guard  of 
three  men.  The  Bragi  was  acting  as  consort  to 
the  submarine.  She  lay-to,  and  the  submarine 
officer  set  the  crews  of  all  three  trawlers  and 
some  of  the  Seatonicfs  crew  to  shifting  coal  from 
the  two  remaining  British  trawlers,  Caswell  and 
Harfat  Castle,  to  the  Bragi. 

There  was  a  considerable  sea  running,  and  the 
forced  working  party  must  hoist  the  coal  from 
the  bunkers,  lower  it  into  the  boats,  pull  the 
boats  across  to  the  Bragi,  hoist  the  coal  on  board 
her,  return  and  do  it  all  over  again — a  hard  and 
heavy  job.  The  Germans  looked  on. 

The  master  makes  no  remark  upon  this 
procedure.  The  work  went  on  for  about  six 


152    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

hours,  and  was  finished  at  half-past  four  in  the 
afternoon.  Then  the  black,  wet  and  weary 
men  were  ordered  on  board  the  Bragi,  which 
thus  received  the  crew  of  the  Seatonia  and  the 
crews  of  the  three  trawlers.  The  master  of  the 
Seatonia  was  kept  on  board  the  submarine. 

The  submarine  officer  ordered  the  master  of 
the  Bragi  to  come  on  board,  gave  him  his  instruc- 
tions, and  sent  him  back  to  his  ship.  The 
trawlers'  boats  were  hoisted  on  board  the  Bragi, 
and  the  two  remaining  trawlers,  now  gutted  of 
coal  and  supplies,  were  sunk  by  gunfire.  The 
Bragi  got  under  way  and  departed. 

The  master  of  the  Seatonia  was  left  alone  with 
his  German  captors  in  the  submarine. 

The  master  was  allowed  on  deck  when  there 
was  no  ship  in  sight,  and  he  admired  the  sea- 
worthy qualities  of  the  submarine.  She  was 
much  on  the  surface,  both  by  day  and  night ; 
during  the  whole  time  the  master  was  on  board 
it  was  blowing  hard  with  a  heavy  sea ;  and  he 
considered  that  the  submarine  "  worked  on  the 
surface  in  a  most  weatherly  way." 

When  a  vessel  which  might  have  been  an  enemy 
was  sighted  the  submarine  dived,  somewhat,  it 
must  be  supposed,  to  the  master's  relief  ;  for  if 
she  was  put  down  he  would  infallibly  go  down 
with  her,  and  it  would  have  been  a  pity  to  be 
drowned  by  one's  own  people. 

Twice  during  the  night  of  November  3rd, 
the  master's  third  night  on  board,  firing  went 
on  over  his  head  on  deck.  Two  ships  were 
attacked,  and  so  far  as  the  master  could  discover, 
unsuccessfully.  In  preparing  to  attack,  the 


SHIPMATES  WITH  A  PIRATE        153 

submarine  always  submerged  so  soon  as  the 
ship  was  sighted,  then  rose  again  to  fire  at  her. 

The  next  night,  the  4th,  another  vessel  was 
attacked.  Nothing  more  seems  to  have  happened 
till  the  night  of  the  7th,  when  the  master  under- 
stood that  the  submarine  was  firing  on  the  U.S.A. 
steamship  Columbian. 

Next  day,  November  8th,  the  submarine 
forced  a  Norwegian  steamer,  the  Balto,  to  stop 
and  wait  for  orders.  Then  the  submarine  once 
more  attacked  the  Columbian,  compelled  the 
crew  to  abandon  her,  sent  them  on  board  the 
Norwegian,  and  then  torpedoed  the  Columbian. 

That  was  an  interesting  day  for  the  British 
master.  In  her,  but  not  of  her,  he  watched  a 
first-class  pirate  at  work.  The  next  day,  the 
9th,  was  also  variously  destructive.  The  sub- 
marine stopped  a  Swedish  steamer,  the  Varing, 
and  to  her  transferred  the  crews  of  the  sunk 
Columbian  and  of  the  Balto.  Thus  it  became 
feasible  to  sink  the  Balto  ;  and  accordingly  bombs 
were  exploded  on  board  her,  and  she  sank  about 
noon. 

The  master  of  the  Seatonia  was  now  released 
from  captivity  and  sent  on  board  the  Varing, 
where  there  were  already  134  people,  in  addition 
to  the  crew.  The  master  made  the  135th.  The 
same  afternoon  25  more  persons  joined  the  party, 
making  160  captives  in  all.  For  the  submarine 
had  forced  the  crew  of  the  Norwegian  Fordelen  to 
abandon  her,  sent  them  to  the  Varing,  and  sunk 
the  Fordelen. 

The  submarine  officer  sent  a  prize  crew  on 
board  the  Varing,  and  at  midnight  the  German 


154    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

officer  in  command  of  the  Varing  suddenly 
sighted  a  British  vessel  of  war,  and  at  once 
cleared  the  upper  deck  of  all  passengers. 

During  the  nine  days  of  the  master's  captivity 
the  submarine  sank  the  Seatonia,  the  three 
trawlers  Caswell,  Kyoto  and  Harfat  Castle,  the 
neutral  vessels  Columbian,  Balto  and  Fordelen, 
seven  in  all,  and  captured  the  Varing.  She 
had  already  captured  the  Danish  trawler  Bragi, 
which  was  acting  as  consort.  The  disposition  of 
the  captured  crews  was  ingenious.  The  Seatonia' s 
people  went  to  the  submarine  herself,  thence  to 
the  Danish  consort.  The  Columbian  was  not 
put  down  until  provision  was  made  for  her  crew 
in  the  Balto.  The  crews  of  Columbian  and  Balto 
were  both  transferred  from  the  Balto  to  the 
Varing,  and  then  the  Balto  was  sunk.  The  crew 
of  the  Fordelen  also  went  to  the  Varing,  and  then 
the  Fordelen  was  sunk. 

The  commanding  officer  of  the  submarine 
thus  preserved  the  lives  of  the  people  whose 
ships  he  destroyed,  making  no  distinction  what- 
ever between  belligerent  and  neutral  ships.  The 
master  of  the  Seatonia  was  treated  not  as  a 
prisoner  of  war,  but  as  a  civilian  prisoner.  As 
he  had  not  fired  upon  the  submarine — having 
indeed  no  gun — he  did  in  fact  retain  his  civilian 
rights,  which  were  respected. 

The  next  morning,  November  10th,  the  master, 
with  one  of  the  captive  crews,  was  landed  in  a 
neutral  port. 

In  the  meantime  the  Bragi,  according  to  her 
instructions,  arrived  on  November  5th  off  a 
neutral  port,  which  was  her  rendezvous.  The 


SHIPMATES   WITH   A   PIRATE        155 

next  day  the  submarine  fetched  up  with  the  Farmer 
in  company.  The  master  of  the  Bragi  was  again 
summoned  on  board  the  submarine,  where  he 
received  his  dismissal  from  the  German  service. 
He  afterwards  landed  his  passengers  in  a  neutral 
port,  and  so  departed  on  his  own  affairs,  carrying 
in  his  mind  a  powerful  objection,  mentioned  by 
the  submarine  officer,  against  carrying  fish  for 
England. 

The  use  made  by  the  Germans  of  neutral  ships 
and  neutral  ports  would  seem  to  add  a  new 
meaning  to  the  accepted  notion  of  neutrality. 


XXII 
"A  CHEERFUL  NOTE" 

"  Thus  sang  they  in  the  English  boat 
A  holy  and  a  cheerful  note." — A.  MABVELL. 

THE  master  of  the  City  of  Birmingham,  left 
alone  on  board  his  ship,  which  was  sinking  under 
him,  collected  his  confidential  books  and  papers, 
stowed  them  in  a  weighted  bag,  went  on  the 
bridge  and  hove  them  overboard. 

Pulling  away  from  the  ship  over  the  smooth 
swell  were  seven  boats  laden  with  passengers. 
Across  the  water  floated  the  pleasant  sound  of 
women's  voices,  singing.  .  .  . 

The  sound  was  a  gracious,  unconscious  testi- 
mony to  the  master's  forethought,  skill  and  hardi- 
hood. A  little  more  than  ten  minutes  ago  all  the 
people  in  the  boats  had  been  snug  in  the  ship, 
which  was  steaming  peacefully  at  thirteen  knots  : 
all  men  on  duty  at  their  stations,  everything 
correct,  no  sign  of  an  enemy.  There  were  a 
crew  of  145,  of  whom  29  were  British  and  116 
were  Lascars,  and  passengers  numbering  170,  of 
whom  about  90  were  women  and  children.  There 
was  no  warning  ere  the  torpedo  struck  the  vessel. 


"A  CHEERFUL  NOTE"  157 

The  master  on  the  bridge  perceived  that  the 
after  half  of  the  ship  was  under  water.  He  had 
stayed  by  his  ship  to  the  last,  and  now  it  was 
time  for  him  to  go.  He  swung  himself  from  the 
bridge  and  ran  to  the  forecastle  head,  and  as  he 
reached  it  the  ship  went  down,  taking  the  master 
with  her.  He  came  to  the  surface,  struck  out, 
swam  to  a  couple  of  floating  planks  and  clung  to 
them.  It  was  November  27th,  1916,  and  the 
water  of  the  Mediterranean  was  very  cold. 

To  the  master,  adrift  on  the  last  remnant  of 
his  fine  ship,  still  came  the  sound  of  women's 
voices,  singing  ;  but  they  seemed  very  far  off. 
Rising  and  falling  on  the  long  slopes  of  the  swell, 
the  master  could  see  the  boats  no  longer.  It 
occurred  to  him  that  they  could  not  see  him, 
either.  Would  they  conclude  he  was  drowned 
with  his  ship  ?  Would  each  boat  think  the 
other  had  him  on  board  ?  Would  he  be  left  to 
perish,  alone  among  the  people  in  the  ship,  the 
people  whom  he  had  saved  ? 

Swinging  drenched  on  his  wreckage,  the  master 
saw  again  the  trim  clean  ship,  the  look-outs  at 
their  stations,  the  gunners  standing  by  their 
gun,  and  felt  again  the  tremendous  blow  of  the 
torpedo,  striking  fifteen  feet  under  water,  and  the 
trembling  of  the  wounded  vessel.  Then  began 
the  test  of  his  drill  and  organisation.  Every 
officer  and  man  went  to  his  boat  station ;  all 
passengers,  lifebelts  slung  upon  them,  went  as 
steadily  to  their  boats  as  the  crew.  The  engineer 
reversed  engines  and  stopped  the  way  of  the 
ship,  though  the  steam  was  pouring  out  of  the 
saloon  windows ;  the  wireless  operator  sent  out 


158    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

calls  and  received  a  reply  ;  the  boats  were  swung 
out  and  safely  launched.  And  all  inside  ten 
minutes. 

No  master  could  have  achieved  more.  And 
there  he  was  adrift.  Where  were  the  boats  ? 
Minute  by  minute  passed  and  no  boat  came. 
"  He  saved  others  ..."  But  still  the  sound  of 
women's  voices,  singing,  hung  in  the  air.  So  soon 
as  they  were  in  the  boats,  they  struck  up  that 
brave  chant,  to  show  that  all  was  well  and  that 
nothing  dismayed  them. 

The  master,  after  the  manner  of  British  seamen, 
continued  to  hang  on,  let  come  what  would 
come.  Half  an  hour  may  be  as  half  a  year  to  a 
drowning  man.  And  the  remorseless  interminable 
minutes  lagged  one  after  another  to  nearly  thirty 
ere  the  master  caught  the  beat  of  oars,  and 
beheld  the  prow  of  a  boat  cleaving  the  crest  of 
the  swell  above  him. 

Once  on  board  the  boat  the  master  instantly 
took  command  again.  He  signalled  to  the  other 
boats  to  come  together,  and  ordered  them  to 
pull  eastwards,  where  a  plume  of  smoke  blurred 
the  horizon. 

The  steamer  was  presently  observed  to  be 
approaching,  and  by  four  o'clock  the  whole  of 
the  shipwrecked  people  were  on  board  the  hospital 
ship  Letitia.  The  City  of  Birmingham  had  been 
torpedoed  at  11.15  ;  every  soul  on  board  except 
the  master  was  clear  of  her  ten  minutes  later ; 
at  11.45  she  sank,  and  by  four  o'clock  all  were 
rescued. 

So  soon  as  the  people  were  on  board  the  Letitia, 
the  master  called  the  roll  of  the  passengers  and 


"A   CHEERFUL  NOTE"  159 

mustered  the  crew.  He  found  that  four  lives  in 
all  had  been  lost  between  the  time  of  the  explo- 
sion and  the  pulling  away  of  the  boats.  The 
ship's  doctor,  who  was  an  old  man  ;  the  barman, 
who  seems  to  have  been  of  unstable  tempera- 
ment, and  who  fell  into  the  water;  and  two 
Lascars :  these  were  drowned. 

Neither  the  submarine  nor  the  torpedo  was 
seen. 

The  master  in  his  report  stated  that  "  the 
women  especially  showed  a  good  example  by 
the  way  in  which  they  took  their  places  in  the 
boats,  as  calmly  as  if  they  were  going  down  to 
their  meals,  and  when  in  the  boats  they  began 
singing." 

So  might  Andromeda  have  lifted  her  golden 
voice  in  praise  to  the  immortal  gods,  what  time 
the  hero  slew  the  sea-beast  that  would  have 
devoured  her. 


XXIII 
VIGNETTE 

THREE  hundred  miles  from  land,  in  the 
Mediterranean,  a  merchant  service  officer 
crouched  on  a  raft  of  wreckage,  staring  at  a 
German  submarine,  which  lay  within  a  hundred 
yards  of  him.  An  English  ship's  boat,  crammed 
with  men,  at  some  distance  from  him,  was 
pulling  towards  him.  The  smooth  sea  was 
strewn  with  broken  pieces  of  the  ship,  to  some 
of  which  men  were  clinging  ;  and  a  second  boat 
was  pulling  to  and  fro,  picking  the  men  from 
the  water.  It  was  about  half-past  five  in  the 
afternoon  of  November  4th,  1916. 

The  chief  officer,  contemplating  the  enemy  with 
a  curious  eye,  beheld  the  long,  yellow  hull  awash, 
the  circular  conning-tower  rising  amidships, 
painted  a  light  straw  colour,  bearing  a  black 
number,  indecipherable,  and  surmounted  by  a 
canvas  screen,  enclosing  the  rail.  Five  or  six 
men,  clad  in  brown,  except  one  who  wore  a 
white  sweater,  lined  the  rail  of  the  conning-tower, 
gazing  at  the  destruction  they  had  wrought. 
Forward,  on  the  deck,  beside  the  gun,  two 
German  officers  were  leisurely  pointing  cameras 


160 


VIGNETTE  161 

upon  the  shipwrecked  men.  When  they  had 
taken  such  photographs  as  they  desired,  they 
departed.  The  submarine  got  under  way  and 
steered  to  a  position  where  she  lay  in  the  track  of 
steamers  shortly  due  to  pass. 

The  chief  officer  and  the  rest  of  the  men  were 
all  taken  into  the  two  boats.  By  that  time 
darkness  was  gathering.  The  chief  officer, 
knowing  that  two  steamers  were  coming  up 
astern,  burned  red  flares  to  warn  them  of  their 
danger.  In  so  doing  he  risked  the  vengeance 
of  the  submarine,  which  must  have  seen  the 
flares,  and  which  could  have  overhauled  the 
boats  in  a  few  minutes,  and  then  sent  them  to 
the  bottom. 

The  two  boats,  overladen  with  the  soaked 
and  shivering  crew,  pulled  and  drifted  in  the 
dark  for  some  nine  hours.  Early  the  next  morning 
they  were  rescued  by  the  hospital  ship  Valdavia. 

It  was  at  5.25  upon  the  previous  afternoon 
that  their  ship,  the  Huntsvale,  had  been  struck 
by  a  torpedo  fired  from  an  unseen  submarine. 
Her  stern  was  blown  clean  off,  and  she  sank  in 
two  minutes.  The  master  sounded  the  whistle, 
and  the  wireless  operator  had  just  time  and  no 
more  to  send  out  one  call  of  distress  ere  his 
dynamo  collapsed.  The  master  and  six  men  lost 
their  lives,  seven  killed  out  of  forty-nine. 

Immediately  after  the  explosion  the  submarine 
rose  to  the  surface  and  steered  towards  the  scene 
of  wreckage,  while  the  German  officers  prepared 
their  photographic  apparatus.  Doubtless  the 
prints  were  designed  for  publication  in  Germany, 
to  illustrate  the  freedom  of  the  seas. 

M 


XXIV 
-LEAVE  HER" 

"Leave  her,  Johnny,  leave  her." — Chanty. 

EARLY  in  the  morning  of  June  29th,  1916,  the 
little  ketch  Lady  of  the  Lake  sailed  from  an  Irish 
port  for  a  Welsh  port,  her  deck  piled  with  pit- 
wood.  She  sailed  on  a  light  wind  all  that  day  and 
the  following  night.  She  was  an  old  boat,  built 
at  Bideford  in  1862,  and  her  master,  who  was  her 
owner,  was  older  still,  numbering  more  than 
seventy  sea  winters.  Sailing  with  him  were  a  mate 
and  a  boy.  By  half -past  seven  on  the  morning  of 
June  30th  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,  a  leisurely  matron, 
had  strolled  about  twenty-five  miles  from  the  Irish 
coast.  There  sounded  the  report  of  a  gun,  a  shot 
struck  her,  and  away  on  the  beam  rose  a  sub- 
marine. The  submarine  fired  again  and  again 
on  the  ketch.  The  master  decided  to  leave  her, 
in  order,  as  he  said,  "  to  avoid  splinters."  He  went 
about  on  the  starboard  tack  so  that  the  dinghy 
could  be  lowered,  and  the  three  men  scrambled 
into  her  and  pulled  away,  while  the  submarine 
continued  to  fire  at  the  forlorn  Lady  of  the  Lake. 

Then  the   submarine   ran   up   alongside  the 


"LEAVE   HER"  163 

dinghy  and  the  German  officer,  shouting  and 
cursing,  ordered  the  old  seaman,  the  mate  and 
the  boy,  on  board  the  submarine.  The  submarine, 
still  occasionally  firing,  drew  toward  the  ketch, 
and  forced  her  crew  to  take  in  their  dinghy  an 
officer  and  three  men.  The  men  carried  bombs. 
The  Germans  went  on  board  the  Lady  of  the 
Lake,  took  everything  they  fancied  out  of  her, 

nsed  the  gear  into  the  boat,  placed  the  bombs 
3w,  and  lit  the  fuses.  The  Germans  were  then 
pulled  back  to  the  submarine  by  the  master, 
the  mate  and  the  boy.  The  poor  plunder  was 
placed  on  board  the  submarine,  and  the  master, 
the  mate  and  the  boy  were  cast  adrift  in  their 
boat  without  food  or  water.  The  submarine 
went  away. 

The  master  saw  his  beloved  little  vessel  go 
up  into  the  air  with  a  horrible  explosion,  and  her 
fragments  litter  the  sea. 

He  hoisted  an  oilskin  on  an  oar  as  a  signal 
of  distress,  but  there  was  no  vessel  in  sight. 
So  the  master,  the  mate  and  the  boy  took  to 
their  oars  and  pulled  for  eight  hours.  They  had 
made  ten  miles  out  of  five-and-twenty  towards 
the  land  when  they  were  picked  up  by  a  patrol 
boat. 

The  Germans  had  destroyed  or  stolen  all  the 
old  man  possessed  in  the  world,  except  his 
dinghy  and  the  clothes  he  wore. 


M  2 


XXV 

FUEL   OF  FIRE 

ON  the  night  of  December  7th,  1916,  in  a 
broad  moonlight,  a  big  oilship,  the  Conch,  was 
steaming  up  Channel.  She  was  bringing  7,000 
tons  of  benzine  from  a  far  Eastern  port. 

Eight  miles  away,  nearer  the  coast,  a  patrol 
boat  was  cruising.  Her  captain  was  startled  by 
a  bright  flame  towering  upon  the  night,  and 
writhing  momently  higher  amid  a  vast  rolling 
canopy  of  smoke,  blotting  out  the  stars.  The 
captain  of  the  patrol  boat  steered  for  the  fire 
at  fall  speed.  At  eight  knots  it  was  an  hour  or 
more  ere  the  captain  came  in  full  sight  of  a 
large  ship,  wrapped  in  a  roaring  flame,  spouting 
burning  oil  from  a  rent  in  her  port  side,  and 
steaming  faster  than  the  patrol  boat.  From 
the  forecastle  aft  she  was  all  one  flame  of  fire  ; 
wildly  steering  herself,  she  was  yawing  now  to 
this  side,  now  to  the  other ;  and  as  she  sped, 
her  wavering  track  blazed  and  smoked  upon 
the  heaving  water. 

The  heat  smote  upon  the  faces  of  the  men  in 
the  patrol  boat  as  they  stared  upon  the  burning 
ship.  The  captain  steered  nearer  to  her,  and  at 


164 


FUEL   OF   FIRE  165 

the  same  moment  she  turned  suddenly  towards 
him,  her  whole  bulk  of  fire  bearing  down  upon 
the  patrol  boat.  The  captain  put  his  helm  hard 
over  and  turned  away ;  and  still  she  came  on, 
dreadfully  lighting  the  men's  scared  faces,  reveal- 
ing every  detail  of  rope  and  block  and  guardrail ; 
and  then  the  patrol  boat  just  cleared  her. 

The  captain  stood  off  to  a  safe  distance  and 
steamed  parallel  to  the  course  of  the  burning 
ship,  scanning  her  for  any  sign  of  a  living 
creature,  but  he  could  see  none,  nor  did  it  seem 
possible  that  so  much  as  a  rat  could  be  left  alive 
in  that  furnace. 

After  cruising  thus  for  about  an  hour,  and 
perceiving  the  approach  of  two  trawlers,  also 
on  patrol  duty,  the  first  patrol  boat  went  about 
her  business,  her  captain  having  made  up  his 
mind  that  there  were  no  men  left  alive  in  the 
burning  ship. 

But  there  were. 

When  the  watch  was  changed  on  board  the 
Conch  at  eight  o'clock  on  the  evening  before,  the 
master  and  the  third  officer  went  on  the  bridge. 
During  that  watch  there  were  two  quartermasters 
at  the  wheel ;  a  wireless  operator  and  a  gunner 
were  posted  at  the  gun,  aft,  and  there  was 
a  look-out  man  stationed  on  the  forecastle 
head.  Below,  the  fourth  engineer  was  on  watch, 
and  the  chief  engineer  was  in  charge.  Two 
China-boys  were  stoking.  The  rest  of  the 
officers  were  either  in  their  cabins  or  on  deck, 
and  the  remainder  of  the  crew  were  in  the  fore- 
castle, where  they  had  their  quarters. 

About  half-past  ten  the  chief  engineer  was  in 


166  THE   MERCHANT   SEAMAN   IN   WAR 

his  cabin,  whence  he  had  been  going  to  the 
engine-room  from  time  to  time,  when  he  heard  the 
dull  report  of  an  explosion,  and  simultaneously 
felt  a  heavy  shock.  He  ran  to  the  engine-room. 
Nothing  had  happened  there  ;  the  revolutions 
still  marked  ten  knots,  and  the  needle  of  the 
telegraph  dial  still  pointed  to  full  speed. 

The  fourth  engineer  ran  to  call  the  second  and 
third  engineers.  Swiftly  as  he  went,  the  fire 
caught  him  as  he  dashed  into  the  alleyway,  and 
he  must  burst  his  way  through  flame  and  smoke. 
He  was  shockingly  burned  about  the  hands  and 
arms,  but  he  roused  the  two  other  engineers, 
and  all  three  hurried  down  to  the  engine-room, 
the  whole  after  part  of  the  ship  blazing  behind 
them.  None  of  the  other  officers  was  ever  seen 
again. 

In  the  engine-room,  imprisoned  by  fire,  were 
the  eight  people  of  the  engine-room  staff  ;  the 
chief  engineer,  the  second,  third  and  fourth 
engineers  and  four  Chinamen ;  eight  of  the 
fifty-six  persons  in  the  ship,  of  whom  twelve 
were  British  and  the  rest  Chinese. 

From  time  to  time  one  of  the  engineers  tried 
to  force  his  way  on  deck,  and  at  each  attempt 
he  was  beaten  back  by  the  flames.  Thus  they 
tried  for  an  hour  ;  and  all  the  while  the  telegraph 
pointed  to  full  speed  and  the  ship  was  steaming  at 
ten  knots. 

It  was  about  midnight  when  the  second 
engineer  succeeded  in  reaching  the  deck.  He 
sounded  the  whistle.  The  others  joined  him. 
The  bridge  was  a  burning  ruin  ;  flame  and  smoke 
streamed  up  from  the  forward  tanks ;  burning 


FUEL  OF   FIRE  167 

oil  poured  from  the  hull  on  the  port  side,  where 
mine  or  torpedo  had  torn  a  great  hole  ;  of  the 
four  lifeboats  no  sign  was  left  except  the  blackened 
and  twisted  davits.  To  the  eight  men  it  appeared 
that  they  must  either  be  burned  alive  or  go  over 
the  side  and  end  the  business  that  way. 

Then  they  remarked  the  dinghy  secured  on 
chocks  on  the  well  deck.  Amid  the  heat  and 
flame,  they  hoisted  her  out  and  lowered  her  into 
the  sea,  where  she  was  immediately  filled  with 
water.  All  the  time  the  ship  was  steaming  ahead 
and  yawing.  The  engineers  tried  to  get  back  to 
the  engine-room  to  stop  the  engines  and  so  stop 
the  ship ;  for  with  way  on  the  ship  the  dinghy  was 
towing  astern,  and  it  was  most  difficult  to  embark 
in  her.  But  the  fire  now  barred  the  engineers 
from  the  engine-room. 

What  followed  is  a  little  obscure.  But  it  is 
clear  that  the  four  Chinamen  reached  the  boat 
by  sliding  down  the  falls,  and  that  the  fourth 
engineer,  attempting  to  follow  them,  could  not 
travel  along  the  ropes  with  his  wounded  hands, 
so  hung  midway,  unable  to  go  forward  or  back,  and 
then  dropped  into  the  sea,  whence  he  never  rose 
again.  The  fourth  engineer  had  come  by  his 
hurt  when  he  went  to  call  the  other  two  engineer 
officers.  So  he  lost  his  life. 

The  chief  engineer  did  not  see  what  happened 
to  the  fourth  engineer.  The  Chinamen  in  the 
boat  told  him  of  it.  Somehow  the  chief  engineer 
got  into  the  boat,  and  before  the  second  and 
third  engineers  could  board  her  she  came  adrift 
from  the  ship. 

The  chief  engineer  and  the  four  Chinamen  were 


168    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

in  the  water-logged  boat,  and  the  second  and 
third  engineers  were  left  on  board  the  burning 
ship. 

The  people  in  the  dinghy  were  not  seen  by 
the  patrol  boat,  which  was  keeping  pace  with  the 
Conch  some  distance  away  from  her.  The  dinghy, 
obscured  by  smoke  and  flame,  dropped  swiftly 
astern.  The  chief  engineer  and  the  Chinamen 
kept  her  afloat  by  incessant  baling  ;  and  after 
about  an  hour  they  sighted  a  steamer,  rowed 
desperately,  hailed  her,  and  were  presently  taken 
on  board. 

The  steamer  pursued  the  burning  ship  with 
the  intention  of  taking  off  the  second  and  third 
engineers,  but  she  could  not  approach  near 
enough.  By  that  time  the  flames  had  subsided 
upon  the  after  part  of  the  Conch,  but  she  was 
still  blazing  from  the  bridge  forward. 

What  happened  to  the  second  and  third 
engineers  left  on  board  the  Conch,  their  last  hope 
drifting  away  astern  ?  At  some  time  between 
about  half-past  one  in  the  night  of  December 
7th-8th,  when  the  dinghy  went  adrift,  and 
three  o'clock,  one  of  the  trawlers,  which  had 
been  observed  by  the  first  patrol  boat  to  be 
approaching,  manoeuvred  under  the  stern  of  the 
Conch,  which  was  still  steaming  ahead,  and  the 
commanding  officer  of  the  trawler  told  the  two 
engineers  to  jump  into  the  water,  whence  he 
hauled  them  on  board. 

Thus,  with  the  sad  exception  of  the  fourth 
engineer,  the  engineering  staff  was  saved.  So 
far  as  they  knew,  when  they  quitted  the  burning 
ship  there  were  no  men  left  on  board. 


FUEL   OF  FIRE  169 

But  there  were. 

At  a  quarter  to  four  on  that  Friday  morning, 
December  8th,  the  lieutenant  in  command  of 
one  of  his  Majesty's  torpedo-boat  destroyers, 
sighted  what  he  described  as  "a  very  large 
conflagration."  Upon  approaching  the  fire  he 
perceived  a  great  vessel  burning  fiercely  from 
forecastle  to  stern,  steaming  at  about  eight  knots, 
and  yawing  through  some  seven  points  ;  and 
huddled  upon  the  fore-peak,  like  the  eyes  of  a 
tortured  creature,  a  crowd  of  Chinamen. 

The  lieutenant  considered  that  to  run  his 
destroyer  alongside  a  burning  ship  under  way 
and  out  of  control  was  impracticable.  Let  us 
now  regard  the  seamanship  of  the  Royal  Navy. 

The  lieutenant  lowered  all  his  boats  and  ran 
past  the  stern  of  the  Conch,  throwing  overboard 
life-saving  rafts,  lifebelts  and  lifebuoys,  and 
shouting  to  the  men  to  jump  into  the  water. 
He  turned,  ran  past  the  stern  again,  turned, 
and  repeated  his  action.  The  Chinamen  leaped 
into  the  water  and  were  picked  up,  all  except 
nine. 

Nine  paralysed  Chinamen  remained  invisibly 
fettered  to  the  ship,  where  during  some  five  hours 
they  had  watched  the  fire  steadily  eating  its 
way  towards  them.  It  is  probable  that  they  had 
taken  opium.  The  flames,  which  had  slackened 
on  the  after  part  of  the  ship,  were  now  again 
blazing,  the  fire  having  ignited  the  bunkers,  and 
the  Chinamen  had  but  a  few  minutes  between 
them  and  death. 

"  I  therefore  decided,"  says  the  young  naval 
officer  who  performed  the  deed,  "  that  it  was 


170    THE   MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

necessary  to  place alongside  the  ship,  and 

take  off  the  remainder  of  the  crew." 

Then  followed  a  feat  of  consummate  seaman- 
ship and  indomitable  courage. 

A  more  hazardous  evolution  could  hardly  be 
devised.  As  the  burning  ship  was  unmanageable 
and  swerving  suddenly  from  side  to  side,  a 
collision  was  almost  inevitable,  while  to  go 
alongside  a  pyramid  of  burning  oil  was  to  risk 
catching  fire  and  exploding  ammunition. 

The  lieutenant,  steaming  eight  knots,  keeping 
pace  with  the  Conch,  ran  right  alongside  her 
windward  bow,  grappled  the  riven,  red-hot  hull, 
now  burned  almost  down  to  the  water-line. 
For  a  desperate  ten  minutes  the  destroyer  was 
locked  to  the  burning,  overhanging  mass,  in 
the  reek  and  the  fierce  heat  and  the  dropping 
flakes  of  fire,  while  the  nine  wretched  Chinamen, 
roused  from  the  Chinese  lethargy,  lowered  them- 
selves one  by  one  from  the  peak  of  the  tall  vessel 
to  the  deck  of  the  destroyer. 

Then  the  lieutenant  cast  off  his  destroyer, 
"  which  sustained  slight  superficial  damage  to 
guardrails  and  upper  deck  fittings."  He  makes 
no  other  remark  of  any  kind.  He  was  none  too 

soon,  for  "  ten  minutes  after  cleared  the 

steamer,  the  latter  was  burnt  to  the  water-line 
and  disappeared  .  .  .  at  7.23  a.m." 

In  the  meantime,  ere  the  destroyer  arrived,  the 
steamer  which  had  rescued  the  chief  engineer  and 
the  four  Chinamen  had  picked  out  of  the  water 
five  more  Chinamen,  while,  as  already  narrated, 
the  patrol  trawler  had  taken  on  board  the  second 
and  third  engineers.  In  addition,  the  other 


FUEL   OF  FIRE  171 

patrol  trawler  had  picked  up  two  Chinamen. 
Three  British  out  of  twelve,  and  twenty-five 
Chinamen  out  of  forty-four  were  saved ;  thus, 
out  of  the  whole  crew  of  the  Conch,  twenty  - 
eight  were  saved  and  twenty-eight  were  lost. 
The  lieutenant  in  command  of  the  destroyer 
rescued  fourteen  Chinamen,  nine  of  them  at  the 
imminent  hazard  of  his  ship  and  all  on  board, 
by  an  act  of  skill  and  daring  which  ranks  among 
the  finest  exploits  of  the  Royal  Navy. 


XXVI 
THE   PILOT'S   STORY 

"  It  is  notorious  that  facts  are  compatible  with  opposite 
emotional  comments,  since  the  same  fact  will  inspire  entirely 
different  feelings  in  different  persons,  and  at  different  times 
in  the  same  person;  and  there  is  no  rationally  deducible 
connection  between  any  outer  fact  and  the  sentiments  it 
may  happen  to  provoke." — WILLIAM  JAMES,  Varieties  o 
Religious  Experience. 

THE  long  hoot  of  a  steamer's  syren  sounded 
from  the  river,  outside  the  red-blinded  windows 
of  the  bar  parlour.  There  were  present  the 
Widow  Chailey,  who  was  the  landlady  of  The 
Three  Ships  inn,  the  girl  Bella,  who  was  the  wife 
of  a  soldier  and  who  served  the  liquor,  and  a 
hulking  mass  of  a  man,  huddled  in  an  elbow 
chair  under  the  gaslight,  his  hard  hat  tilted  over 
his  eyes,  his  hands  clasped  on  the  top  of  his 
stick. 

"  A  steamer  calling  for  a  boat  to  take  off  the 
pilot,"  said  Bella  as  the  syren  hooted  again. 

'  Thank  Heaven  another  one's  come  in  safe, 
then,"  said  the  Widow  Chailey  piously. 

"  What  do  they  want  to  come  to  this  town  at 
all  for,  is  what  I  ask  ?  "  said  the  obese  man  in 


ITS 


THE   PILOT'S   STORY  178 

the  chair,  without  opening  his  eyes.  "  They 
only  sleep  here.  They  got  no  house  and  pay  no 
rates.  They  don't  do  the  town  any  good." 

"  What  a  thing  to  say,  Mr.  Bagwell,"  retorted 
the  widow,  placidly  scanning  the  evening  paper. 
"  'Ow  would  we  live  if  it  wasn't  for  the  pilots  ?  " 

"  I'll  have  another  whisky,"  said  Mr.  Bagwell, 
after  a  pause  of  reflection. 

"  I  think  you've  had  enough,"  said  Bella. 
But  she  brought  it.  Then  she  sat  down  at  the 
table  with  a  sigh  and  began  to  knit. 

Silence  ;  a  silence  pervaded  with  the  sense  of 
moving  life  on  the  dark  river  without.  Presently 
a  bell  jangled  in  the  entrance  hall  and  Bella,  with 
another  sigh,  left  the  parlour. 

Then  there  entered  a  tanned,  sharp-featured, 
bright-eyed  man,  and  dropped  a  heavy  bag  under 
the  table. 

"  Good  evening,  ma'am.  I  ain't  been  here 
before,  but  you'll  take  me  in,  I  know.  I  been 
putting  up  at  your  opposite  number's  for  years 
— and  then  they  quarrelled  with  me.  You  and 
I  won't  quarrel,  shall  us  ?  For  I  ain't  a  quarrel- 
ling man  by  nature,"  said  the  pilot,  settling  him- 
self on  the  bench  against  the  wall.  "  Now,  then. 
One  all  round,  my  dear.  Whisky's  mine." 

The  somnolent  Mr.  Bagwell  received  his  liba- 
tion in  silence.  The  Widow  Chailey  took  a  glass 
of  port,  and  Bella  sipped  a  dark  liquid  which  she 
said  was  a  tonic.  Herein  she  was  wise,  for  to 
have  accepted  all  the  liquor  offered  to  her  was 
impossible. 

"  Cheero,"  said  the  pilot.  "  Another.  I  need 
it.  Another  for  you,  old  sport.  It'll  liven  you 


174    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

up,  perhaps."  Mr.  Bagwell  received  his  glass, 
drank  its  contents,  and  shut  his  eyes  again. 
"  Another,"  said  the  pilot.  "  Now  we're  all 
comfortable.  Aren't  us  ?  ': 

:f  Had  a  good  passage,  I  hope,"  said  the  widow. 

"  Mustn't  grumble  in  war-time,"  said  the  pilot. 
He  raised  his  eyebrows  and  pointed  interrogatively 
to  the  moveless  Bagwell. 

"  He's  all  right,"  responded  the  widow  tran- 
quilly. "  Collector  of  rates.  Most  respectable — 
when  he  hasn't  had  a  drop  too  much." 

The  pilot  drank  off  his  potion  at  a  breath. 
"  Another,"  he  said.  "  And  the  same  for  our 
leading  citizen  here."  His  white  teeth  gleamed, 
and  his  eyes,  under  sharply  narrowing  lids,  shone 
like  points  of  glass,  as  Bella  sat  down  beside  him. 

"  What  happened,  then  ?  ':  said  Bella  per- 
suasively. '  Tell  us." 

The  pilot  slipped  his  arm  round  the  girl's  waist. 

"  I'll  tell  you,  my  dear,"  he  said.  "  Thirty- 
six  hours  I  been  on  the  bridge  before  I  came  off 
just  now.  It's  a  neutral  ship  I  brought  in,  so 
there's  no  harm  in  telling.  I  boarded  her  up 
north.  The  captain  says,  '  I  dam  glad  to  see 
you,'  he  says.  '  Now  I  sleep.'  He  hadn't  had 
his  clothes  off  for  six  days  and  nights,  and  no 
sleep,  only  cat-naps.  His  eyes  was  bloodshot 
and  he  was  all  bowed  together  like  a  old  man. 
'  I  dessay  you'll  wake  in  Heaven  with  the  rest 
of  us,'  said  I,  '  and  why  shouldn't  you  ?  '  '  I 
got  wife  and  children  in  Stavanger,'  he  says, 
and  cripples  down  to  his  cabin.  I  had  the 
Admiralty  instructions,  of  course,  but  there 
wasn't  much  consolation  in  them.  But  no  man 


THE  PILOT'S  STORY  175 

dies  before  his  time.    Another,  my  dear,  and  one 
more  all  round." 

Mr.  Bagwell,  aroused  by  the  arrival  of  another 
drink,  appeared  to  listen. 

"  Not  but  what,"  pursued  the  pilot  medita- 
tively, "  the  further  question  arises,  When  is 
his  time  ?  However,  these  things  don't  trouble 
us  much  at  sea.  A  fine  clear  evening  it  was  when 
we  left  port,  and  the  bells  was  ringing  in  the 
town,  and  all  the  people  was  walking  on  the  pier. 
One  of  the  crew,  an  Englishman,  sits  on  the 
fo'c'sle  playing  a  tune  on  a  penny  whistle  he  had, 
and  very  well  he  done  it.  All  of  a  sudden,  up 
comes  the  old  man  from  below,  his  hair  all  on 
end.  '  What,5  he  shouts,  stamping  in  his 
slippers,  c  you  haf  no  more  feeling  for  the  ship 
that  you  make  music  in  this  danger !  '  The 
Englishman  laughed  at  him.  '  I  was  only  tryin' 
to  get  a  little  serciety  feelin'  into  the  ship,' 
says  he.  '  A  little  cordiality,  like.'  I  told  the 
old  man  submarines  didn't  come  for  whistlin5, 
and  persuaded  him  back  to  bed. 

"Now  I  tell  you,"  continued  the  pilot — 
"  another  all  round,  and  thank  you,  my  dear — 
whenever  I  take  charge  of  a  ship,  I  know  I'm 
in  for  a  gamble  with  God  Almighty.  Before  the 
war,  barring  accidents  what  no  one  can  foresee, 
I  knew  for  a  certainty  I  could  take  the  ship  in 
perfec'  safety  from  port  to  port.  I've  never  had 
no  accident,  not  in  twenty  years,  calm  or  storm, 
fog  or  what  not — never  one  single  accident. 
But  now,  what  is  it  ?  You  station  a  couple  of 
A.B.'s  forward,  and  a  man  in  the  cross-trees, 
and  two  more  hands  aft,  all  a-looking  out  till 


176    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

their  eyes  is  bursting  out  of  their  heads  and  they 
think  every  bit  of  wreckage  is  a  periscope.  I 
seen  'em  call  up  a  fireman  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  to  look  overboard,  because  they  thought 
him  knowing  all  about  machinery  could  reco'nise 
a  periscope  if  he  saw  it — which,  coming  up  from 
the  light  below  to  thick  darkness,  he  couldn't 
see  nothing  at  all.  But  what's  the  use  ?  All 
the  time  you  can't  see — but  you  can  be  seen. 
And  if  it's  a  mine,  it's  the  same — you  can't  see 
it  in  the  night,  or  in  broken  water.  And  either 
you  get  the  ship  through  or  you  don't.  It's 
pure  chance.  And  that,"  said  the  pilot,  "  is 
what  we  have  to  contend  with." 

"I'm  glad,"  Bella  remarked,  "  that  my  boy's 
in  Mesopotamia." 

"  What  can  it  be  like,  I  often  wonder  ?  3: 
said  the  Widow  Chailey  placidly. 

"  AbsoZ^ely  rotten,"  said  the  pilot,  compre- 
hensively. "  That  same  evening,  as  it  was 
getting  dark,  and  we  was  feeling  our  way  along 
—for  there's  no  lights  now — I  see  a  fine  big 
vessel  about  three  miles  off,  and  the  next  moment 
there  was  a  great  black  burst  of  smoke,  and  a 
noise  like  a  ton  o'  coal  shot  into  the  hold.  I  see 
the  ship  break  in  two  amidships  and  down  she 
went.  Gone ! 

"  What  could  we  do  ?  Nothing.  I  kept  my 
course,  zig-zagging,  all  the  night ;  and  twice 
another  ship  was  right  on  top  of  us  and  I  saved 
the  ship  by  inches.  Could  have  pushed  the  other 
ship  off  with  my  hand,  very  near.  And  next 
morning,  just  before  the  sunrise,  when  it's  all 
cold  and  dim,  and  a  man's  inside  falls  to  zero, 


THE   PILOT'S   STORY  177 

if  you  know  what  I  mean,  a  steamship  was 
passing  us  to  port,  black  against  the  sky,  when 
up  goes  the  cloud  of  smoke  again,  like  a  clap  of 
thunder,  and  down  she  went,  nose  first,  inside 
three  minutes.  Two  !  It  might  have  been  us, 
but  it  just  wasn't.  And  that  evening,  down  went 
a  vessel  not  a  mile  ahead  of  us.  Three  !  Three 
in  one  trip. 

"  The  captain  was  shot  up  on  deck  out  of  his 
ship  after  every  explosion  just  as  if  he'd  been 
exploded  himself,  and  last  of  all  he  says,  *  It  is 
enough.  I  not  go  to  sea  never  again.'  But  of 
course  he  will.  Where  else  can  he  go  ?  After 
that  third  poor  ship  was  put  down  I  was  glad 
enough  to  think  we  should  be  in  port  in  three  or 
four  hours.  But  we  was  ten  minutes  late  of 
Admiralty  closing  time,  and  had  to  cruise  up 
and  down  all  night  long.  That  was  the  worst  of 
all. 

"  For  a  man,"  continued  the  pilot,  "  sets 
himself  to  last  a  certain  time  like  a  chronometer, 
and  when  that  time's  exceeded,  he  'as  to  wind 
himself  up  all  over  again.  Drink  would  do  it, 
but  I  never  touch  liquor  on  duty.  .  .  .  Another, 
miss,  and  one  more  all  round,  and  then  I'm  for 
bed.  What  cheer,  old  sport  ?  Got  something 
on  your  mind,  have  you  ?  J: 

Mr.  Bagwell,  thus  addressed,  drank  his  liquor, 
and  regarded  the  pilot  with  a  vindictive  eye. 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  said  Mr.  Bagwell.  "  And  I'll 
tell  you  what  it  is,  straight.  You're  no  better 
than  a  thief,  you  are.  You're  a  pernicious  water- 
rat.  You're  a  ruddy  interloper  in  this  town. 
You  come  and  you  go,  and  you  pay  no  rates  and 

N 


178    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

you're  a  flagrant  disgrace.  One  of  these  days 
you'll  get  it  in  the  neck,  so  I  warn  you.  In  the 
neck.  And  serve  you  damn  well  right." 

The  pilot  surveyed  his  accuser  with  a  cheerful 
smile. 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  done  to  you,  old  friend, 
excep'  hand  you  out  one  now  and  again,"  said 
the  pilot,  blandly. 

Then  Mr.  Bagwell  laboriously  repeated  his 
words,  as  though  they  were  a  lesson  he  had 
learned  by  heart. 

"  50w  can  you  say  such  things,  and  him 
bringing  food  into  the  country  and  risking  his 
life  ?  J:  said  the  Widow  Chailey,  mildly  re- 
proachful. 

"  Now  look  here,"  said  the  pilot,  still  immovably 
serene,  "  answer  me  this  one  question.  Do  you 
know  what  you're  a-saying  ?  Or  do  you  not  ?  >! 

Mr.  Bagwell  appeared  to  be  earnestly  interro- 
gating his  consciousness. 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  he  said  finally. 

The  pilot  smiled  upon  him  in  silence. 
6  You'd  better  be  going  home,"  said  the  widow 
firmly. 

Mr.  Bagwell  rose  without  a  word,  and  lumbered 
out  of  the  room  and  out  of  the  house. 

"  Such  a  pity,"  said  the  Widow  Chailey ; 
"  he  always  gets  abusive  when  he  'as  a  drop  of 
drink  in  him. 

"  Some  of  the  customers  don't  like  it,"  said  the 
widow. 


XXVII 
THREE   PRISONERS 

THE  Austrian  submarine  which  had  just 
torpedoed  and  sunk  the  steamship  Andoni 
drew  alongside  the  boat  in  which  were  the  master 
and  a  party  of  the  crew  of  the  Andoni.  The  two 
officers  on  the  conning-tower  looked  down  upon 
their  victims.  The  commanding  officer  of  the 
submarine  was  slight  of  figure  and  bearded  ; 
the  lieutenant  of  fair  complexion  and  clean 
shaven.  A  group  of  men,  clad  in  slate-coloured 
dress,  stood  on  the  deck,  aft  of  the  conning- 
tower. 

The  lieutenant  asked  the  master  if  he  had  any 
papers,  to  which  the  master  replied  "  No." 

"  Come  on  board,"  said  the  lieutenant.  "  You 
are  a  prisoner  of  war.  We  are  friends  no  longer." 

To  torpedo  a  man's  ship,  which  so  far  had  been 
the  extent  of  the  commerce  between  the  Austrian 
officers  and  the  master  of  the  Andoni,  was  a 
singular  exhibition  of  friendship.  So  the  master 
may  have  thought  as  he  stepped  on  board  the 
enemy  and  disappeared  below. 

The  lieutenant  produced  two  letters,  and 
gave  them  to  the  second  officer  in  the  boat, 

179  N  2 


180    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

requesting  him  to  post  them.  The  second  officer, 
reading  the  addresses  on  the  envelope,  perceived 
to  his  surprise  that  they  were  addressed  in 
English  handwriting  to  persons  in  England.  He 
did  not  know  then  what  was  afterwards  dis- 
covered, that  the  letters  were  written  respec- 
tively by  two  British  masters  who  were  already 
immured  in  the  submarine.  That  was  the  only 
sign  of  their  existence :  two  letters  dumbly 
appearing  from  the  belly  of  the  enemy.  The 
master  of  the  Andoni,  on  going  below,  found 
two  friends  to  make  up  for  the  loss  of  the  friend- 
ship of  the  Austrians.  The  submarine  departed, 
carrying  the  three  British  prisoners — whither  ? 

The  Andoni  was  torpedoed  in  the  Mediter- 
ranean, about  fifty  miles  from  Malta,  at  7.35 
on  the  morning  of  January  8th,  1917.  She  sank 
in  twelve  minutes.  A  gun-layer  and  two  coloured 
firemen  were  killed.  At  half -past  five  the  same 
evening  the  rest  of  the  crew  were  picked  up  by 
a  patrol  vessel. 

The  first  of  the  British  masters  to  be  captured 
by  the  Austrian  submarine  was  the  master  of 
the  Lesbian.  He  made  a  running  fight  of  it. 
That  was  on  Friday,  January  5th,  1917.  About 
half-past  three  in  the  afternoon,  when  the 
Lesbian  was  steaming  at  ten  knots  on  a  zig-zag 
course,  the  submarine  emerged  some  three  miles 
astern  and  opened  fire. 

The  master  instantly  ordered  the  gunners  to 
reply,  and  their  second  shot  fell  close  to  the 
submarine,  which  thereupon  dropped  further 
astern,  to  a  position  from  which  she  could  out- 
range the  gun  of  the  Lesbian. 


THREE  PRISONERS  181 

The  master,  although  he  was  outranged,  tried 
to  confuse  and  blind  the  submarine  gunner  by 
maintaining  a  rapid  fire,  but  the  shells  of  the 
enemy  continued  to  fall  all  about  the  Lesbian 
and  one  pierced  her  stern,,  Thus  the  chase 
went  on ;  the  Lesbian,  strung  to  full  speed, 
running  in  a  hail  of  shells,  wreathed  in  smoke, 
fountains  of  water  leaping  alongside  her,  distress 
signal-rockets  rushing  upwards  and  burning ; 
and  far  astern  the  low  grey  conning-tower  of 
the  hunter  came  ploughing  behind  on  a  white 
bow-wave,  with  tongues  of  fire  and  smoke  blown 
behind  her  and  drifting  over  the  bright  sea. 

At  a  few  minutes  past  four,  the  action  having 
lasted  nearly  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  the 
master,  seeing  that  his  ammunition  was  nearly 
exhausted,  hoisted  the  signal  of  surrender, 
stopped  the  ship,  and  ordered  the  crew  into  the 
boats. 

The  rapidly  approaching  submarine  continued 
to  fire,  while  the  crew  were  getting  away  the  two 
lifeboats  and  the  cutter.  The  shells  struck  the 
ship,  several  among  the  crew  were  wounded,  and 
the  master  was  hurt  in  the  head  and  leg.  A  shell 
struck  the  water  close  to  one  of  the  boats  and 
made  it  leak.  As  the  boats  cleared  the  ship,  she 
listed  to  port  and  began  to  settle  down  by  the 
stern. 

The  submarine  drew  alongside  the  boat  in 
which  was  the  master,  and  the  commanding 
officer  ordered  him  aboard.  The  submarine  then 
ordered  the  boats  "  to  clear  out." 

'  What  about  the  master  ?  J!    said  the  chief 
officer. 


182    THE   MERCHANT   SEAMAN   IN  WAR 

"  He  is  stopping  here.  You  clear  out,"  re- 
turned the  Austrian,  and  proceeded  to  lay  his 
submarine  alongside  the  abandoned  and  slowly- 
sinking  ship.  That  was  the  last  the  men  in  the 
boats  saw  of  the  submarine — the  shark  side 
by  side  with  the  dying  whale. 

The  three  boats  were  left  120  miles  from  Malta. 
The  chief  officer  divided  the  crew  of  the  cutter 
between  the  two  lifeboats  and  abandoned  the 
cutter. 

In  one  boat  were  the  chief  officer  and  a  crew 
of  seventeen,  and  in  the  other  boat  were  the 
second  officer  and  a  crew  of  seventeen.  Both 
boats  hoisted  sail  and  steered  for  Malta.  It  was 
then  about  five  in  the  afternoon,  the  dark  falling 
on  a  smooth  sea,  with  a  favourable  breeze 
blowing  from  the  south-east. 

The  two  boats  sailed  in  company  all  that 
night ;  but  the  next  morning  each  was  lost  to 
sight  of  the  other  in  the  haze. 

The  chief  officer  held  on  all  that  day,  January 
6th,  and  all  that  night.  The  next  morning  the 
wind  shifted  to  the  north-west,  dead  ahead  on  the 
course  the  chief  officer  was  steering,  and  he 
decided  to  go  about  and  run  for  the  Greek  coast. 

They  had  already  been  sailing  in  an  open 
boat  for  two  nights  and  a  day.  The  boat  was 
provisioned  with  meat,  biscuits  and  water,  but 
no  one  knew  for  how  long  the  stock  would  be 
required. 

Then  began  a  dreadful  voyage  of  shifting 
winds,  heavy  seas,  and  deadly  cold.  Concerning 
its  incidents,  the  chief  officer  is  silent,  mentioning 
only  that,  although  several  ships  were  sighted, 


THREE  PRISONERS  183 

none  answered  their  signals.  But  we  know  that 
he  and  his  men  endured  for  ten  more  days  and 
ten  more  nights ;  and  at  noon  on  January  17th 
they  fetched  up  in  a  Greek  port.  By  that  time 
all  the  meat  was  gone,  and  there  were  only  a 
few  biscuits  and  a  little  water  left.  All  were 
greatly  exhausted  and  some  suffered  from  swollen 
feet. 

The  Greek  peasants  took  them  in  and  did 
what  they  could  for  the  castaways,  until  the 
French  authorities  conveyed  them  to  hospital. 
In  a  fortnight  all  save  three  were  fit  to  travel. 

In  the  meantime  the  second  officer  had  better 
luck.  He  landed  on  the  coast  of  Sicily  on  the 
7th,  after  sailing  two  nights  and  the  better  part 
of  two  days. 

When  the  boats  of  the  Lesbian  had  been  two 
nights  and  a  day  at  sea  the  Austrian  submarine, 
with  the  master  of  the  Lesbian  on  board,  was 
cruising  not  far  from  them. 

On  the  afternoon  of  January  7th,  the  submarine 
sighted  the  steamship  Mohacsfield  and  opened 
fire  upon  her.  The  Mohacsfield,  retreating  at 
full  speed,  returned  the  fire,  and  the  chase 
continued  for  an  hour. 

It  was  the  usual  story.  The  Mohacsfield  was 
outranged  and  outpaced ;  she  was  hit,  and  the 
second  officer  and  the  steward  were  killed  ;  the 
mate  and  a  fireman  were  wounded,  and  then  the 
master  was  compelled  to  abandon  ship. 

The  submarine  took  the  master  on  board  as 
prisoner  of  war ;  and  thus  the  master  of  the 
Lesbian  and  the  master  of  the  Mohacsfield  made 
acquaintance  and  exchanged  narratives ;  and 


184    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

perhaps  one  quoted  to  the  other  the  words  of 
the  wild  Hungarian  song  :  "  But  no  matter, 
mare  was  lost  on  Mohacsfield  "  ;  and  perhaps 
not.  The  Mohacsfield  was  sunk  by  a  torpedo. 

The  next  day,  January  8th,  as  already  related, 
the  master  of  the  Andoni  joined  the  party  ;  and 
it  was  then  that  the  two  masters  already  on  board 
prevailed  on  the  Austrian  officer  to  send  their 
letters  home  ;  the  two  letters  which  were  handed 
out  from  the  depths  of  the  submarine  to  the 
second  officer  of  the  Andoni.  The  rest,  so  far, 
is  silence. 

The  master  of  the  Andoni  had  lost  his  ship  by 
a  torpedo  fired  from  the  submarine  invisible 
beneath  the  surface.  The  masters  of  the  Lesbian 
and  the  Mohacsfield  had  fought  their  ships  to  the 
last  moment.  Now  all  three  were  prisoners. 


XXVIII 
HIDE-AND-SEEK   IN   THE    BAY 

OFF  the  Spanish  coast  on  January  23rd,  1917, 
the  steamship  Jevington  was  steering  east,  in 
misty,  squally  weather,  the  sea  running  in  the 
long,  mountainous  swell  of  the  Bay  of  Biscay. 

At  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  master, 
going  on  the  bridge,  perceived  a  small  steamer 
about  five  miles  away,  steering  south.  Through 
the  mist  the  master  was  unable  to  decipher  her 
ensign  or  the  name  and  colours  painted  on  her 
side.  Presently  the  strange  vessel  was  blotted 
out  by  the  driving  rain. 

A  little  after,  the  master  sighted  a  fishing 
vessel,  with  two  lug-sails,  steering  northwards 
as  though  she  had  just  parted  company  from 
the  strange  steamship.  Watching  her,  the  master 
saw  her  alter  course,  as  if  to  cross  the  bows  of 
the  Jevington  ;  and  then,  in  her  turn,  she  vanished 
in  a  rain-squall.  W^en  the  squall  had  passed  the 
ring  of  haze  closing  in  the  Jevington  had  narrowed, 
and  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  on  all  the  high, 
broken  surges  of  the  swell. 

It  was  about  an  hour  and  a  half  after  the 
strange  steamship  had  been  sighted,  when  the 

185 


186     THE   MERCHANT   SEAMAN  IN   WAR 

master  and  the  second  mate,  who  were  both  on 
the  bridge,  exclaimed  at  the  same  moment, 
"  There's  a  submarine  !  " 

About  200  yards  away  on  the  port  bow  the  peri- 
scope was  projected  above  the  surface,  followed 
by  the  top  of  the  conning-tower.  The  next 
moment  the  ship  was  struck.  There  was  an 
explosion  on  the  port  side  ;  the  hatches  of  the 
hold  were  blown  in  fragments  into  the  air ;  the 
derrick  leaped  twelve  feet  upwards  and  crashed 
down  on  deck  by  the  starboard  rail,  and  the 
water  spouted  up  through  the  hold,  flooding 
the  deck. 

The  master  instantly  ordered  the  engines  to 
be  reversed  to  stop  the  way  of  the  ship,  and 
ordered  all  hands  into  the  boats.  While  they 
were  getting  away  he  burned  his  confidential 
papers  in  the  galley  stove. 

In  spite  of  the  heavy  run  of  sea,  the  boats 
were  safely  launched,  and  they  pulled  hard  from 
the  ship  for  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  Then 
they  lay  on  their  oars  and  watched  the  submarine 
nosing  round  the  water-logged  ship.  The  sub- 
marine had  hoisted  the  German  ensign,  and 
presently  approached  the  two  boats.  The  chief 
officer  pulled  to  meet  her. 

The  commanding  officer  of  the  submarine 
hailed  the  chief  officer,  asking  him  what  he 
wanted.  The  chief  officer  replied  that  he  wanted 
to  return  to  the  Jevington  to  fetch  dry  clothing. 
The  submarine  officer  refused  to  grant  the 
request.  It  was,  he  said,  too  risky  to  return  to 
the  ship. 

He  laid  the  submarine  alongside  the   chief 


HIDE-AND-SEEK  IN  THE   BAY       187 

officer's  boat,  and  the  chief  officer  noted  that 
the  German  commander  was  a  small  man,  clean 
shaven,  and  that  the  lieutenant  standing  beside 
him  on  the  conning-tower  was  of  the  larger,  fair- 
complexioned  German  type.  Some  twelve  men 
were  on  the  deck  of  the  submarine.  Officers  and 
men  alike  were  dressed  in  dark  green  jackets  and 
oilskin  trousers,  the  officers  having  uniform  caps. 

The  little  German  captain  caused  six  suits  of 
good  clothing  to  be  handed  out  to  the  chief  officer. 
Then  he  asked  for  the  captain,  who  was  in  the 
other  boat,  ordered  the  chief  officer  to  cruise 
about  where  he  was,  telling  him  that  another 
vessel  would  come  to  pick  him  up,  and  went 
away  to  the  master's  boat. 

The  chief  officer,  sighting  the  strange  steamer 
which  had  passed  southward  earlier  in  the 
afternoon,  and  which  was  now  approaching  at  a 
distance  of  about  four  miles,  pulled  towards  her, 
and  he  and  his  crew  were  taken  on  board. 

She  was  a  Norwegian  vessel,  the  Donstad, 
which  had  been  captured  early  in  the  morning, 
and  which  was  impressed  by  the  submarine 
officer  to  serve  as  his  consort.  On  board  was  a 
German  prize  crew  of  six  men  under  the  com- 
mand of  an  officer. 

In  the  meantime  the  submarine  officer,  drawing 
alongside  the  master's  boat,  ordered  him  to  come 
on  board.  Being  requested  to  produce  his 
papers,  the  master  gave  the  German  the  Jeving- 
ton's  bills  of  lading,  ship's  register,  and  French 
bill  of  health — for  what  they  were  worth,  which 
was  not  much. 

The  submarine  officer  ordered  the  master  to 


188    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

return  to  his  boat,  and  when  he  was  in  it  again 
the  little  German  captain  photographed  his 
captives.  He  then  ordered  them  to  remain 
where  they  were,  and  told  them,  as  he  had  told 
the  chief  officer,  that  he  would  send  a  vessel  to 
pick  them  up. 

The  submarine  got  under  way  and  de- 
parted, and  the  master's  boat  tossed  in  the 
thickening  darkness  for  an  hour  or  more,  when 
the  people  in  the  boat  observed  the  lights  of 
two  steamers,  one  to  the  north  and  the  other 
to  the  north-west. 

They  saw  a  gun-flash  near  by  the  vessel  to 
the  north-west.  The  master  of  the  Jevington 
decided  to  pull  towards  the  other  steamer.  As 
he  drew  near  he  recognised  her  to  be  the  strange 
vessel  he  had  sighted  early  in  the  afternoon.  She 
was  the  Donstad,  which  had  already  picked  up 
the  chief  officer's  boat,  and  which  now  took  the 
master  and  his  boat's  crew  on  board.  The 
Jevington's  people  were  searched  by  the  German 
guard,  who  robbed  the  second  engineer  of  money 
and  trinkets.  That  petty  larceny  shows  how  the 
German  sailor  is  foreign  to  the  tradition  of  the 
sea. 

The  submarine  having  collected  the  steamer 
at  which  she  had  fired,  brought  her  close  to  the 
Donstad.  She  was  the  Leonora,  a  Spaniard.  The 
submarine  officer  now  ordered  the  German 
officer  in  command  of  the  Donstad  to  send  to 
him  the  master  of  the  Jevington. 

At  this  time,  between  seven  and  eight  of  a 
dark  and  stormy  night,  the  submarine,  burning 
side-lights,  and  the  two  captured  neutral 


HIDE-AND-SEEK  IN  THE  BAY       189 

steamers,  Donstad  and  Leonora,  with  all  lights 
burning,  lay  stopped  and  near  to  one  another  ; 
and  a  little  way  off,  hidden  in  the  darkness,  the 
Jevington  rolled  deserted,  her  decks  awash. 

The  master  of  the  Jevington  was  pulled  across 
to  the  submarine  by  two  of  his  own  men  and  a 
German  sailor.  When  the  master  was  on  board 
the  submarine,  the  submarine  officer  had  two 
bombs  placed  in  the  boat,  and  the  men  rowed 
her  across  to  the  Jevington.  The  master  did 
not  see  his  ship  sunk,  but  he  was  told  that  she 
had  been  destroyed. 

The  submarine  officer  informed  the  master 
that  he  had  captured  the  Spanish  steamship 
expressly  for  the  purpose  of  taking  the  other 
officers  and  the  men  of  the  Jevington  to  Liver- 
pool, and  that  the  master  himself  was  to  be  sent 
to  Germany.  He  had  orders,  he  said,  that  all 
British  masters  captured  should  be  brought  to 
Germany.  For  the  time  being,  the  master  was 
to  remain  on  the  Donstad. 

Then  the  master,  with  this  agreeable  prospect 
in  his  mind,  was  sent  back  to  the  Donstad  ;  and 
his  state  was  not  improved  by  a  painful  accident 
which  befell  him.  Climbing  up  the  side  of  the 
Donstad,  the  escape  of  water  from  a  steam  heater 
scalded  his  leg. 

The  rest  of  the  Jevington's  people  were  now 
transhipped  from  the  Donstad  to  the  Leonora 
in  four  trips.  They  were  all  on  board  by  ten 
o'clock,  and  all  the  time  the  two  steamers  and 
the  submarine  lay  with  lights  burning. 

The  master,  with  a  scalded  leg,  was  left  in  the 
Donstad.  As  for  the  rest  of  the  officers  and  the 


190    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

men  of  the  Jevington,  they  were  punctually  and 
safely  landed  at  Liverpool  on  January  27th, 
as  the  submarine  officer  had  said. 

During  the  next  few  days  the  master  of  the 
Jevington  watched  the  operations  of  the  sub- 
marine and  her  consort  the  Donstad  cruising  about 
the  Bay,  waiting  for  ships.  The  Donstad  from 
time  to  time  received  her  course  from  the 
submarine,  and  the  two  vessels  were  in  constant 
communication  by  signal  in  the  daytime  and  by 
Morse  lamp  at  night.  The  Donstad  carried  all 
lights  at  night.  The  next  day,  January  24th, 
a  gale  blew  up  from  the  south  with  a  rising  sea. 
The  master  was  allowed  on  the  bridge,  and  was 
even  welcomed  in  the  chart-house,  where  he 
was  shown  the  varying  course  and  position  of 
the  Donstad,  sent  hither  and  thither  by  the 
submarine.  He  was  profoundly  interested  in 
the  submarine's  behaviour  in  heavy  weather. 
"  Although  a  very  heavy  S.S.W.  sea  was 
running,"  he  reports,  "  she  kept  above  water, 
and  appeared  quite  steady,  and  no  water 
breaking  over  her  turret." 

This  happy  family  party  continued  until  the 
27th,  when  the  submarine  ordered  all  the  people 
in  the  Donstad  to  come  on  board  at  daylight. 
The  master  went  with  the  crew  of  the  Donstad 
in  her  boats.  The  German  prize  crew  followed, 
with  provisions  and  plunder,  having  first  ignited 
the  fuses  of  the  bombs,  which  presently  exploded, 
sinking  the  Donstad. 

The  master  reported  himself  sick  to  the 
commanding  officer  of  the  submarine.  He  said 
his  leg  was  very  bad,  and  might  he  lie  down  ? 


HIDE-AND-SEEK  IN  THE  BAY       191 

The  little  German  captain  sent  the  master  below, 
and  gave  instructions  that  his  wound  was  to  be 
dressed  and  that  he  was  to  be  given  a  berth,  an 
order  which  involved  the  deprivation  of  his  berth 
of  another  officer. 

So  the  master  lay  in  the  German's  bunk,  with 
a  pain  in  his  leg  and  a  pain  in  his  mind,  as  he 
contemplated  the  prospect  of  a  voyage  in  the 
submarine  with  a  prison  at  the  end  of  it. 

His  fine  ship  was  gone,  his  crew  vanished.  His 
possessions  had  gone  down  with  the  ship.  As  a 
man  stricken  with  sickness  remembers  what  he 
was  in  health,  and  marvels  how  happy  he  has 
been  without  knowing  it,  so  the  master  recalled 
the  voyage.  He  had  been  anxious,  but  day 
after  day  had  gone  by,  and  he  had  come  through, 
till  he  was  within  three  or  four  days  of  home.  He 
traversed  every  incident  of  that  misty  day  of 
wind  and  squalls  ;  the  apparition  of  the  steamer 
steering  south,  the  little  sailing  craft  which 
stole  from  behind  her,  and  which  he  now  knew 
to  have  been  a  submarine  ;  the  interval  during 
which  all  seemed  well ;  then  the  periscope 
terribly  shooting  up  ahead,  and  the  blow  of  the 
torpedo,  which  told  him  that  all  was  over,  while 
his  head  yet  rung  with  the  noise  of  the  explo- 
sion. .  .  .  Ought  he  to  have  done  this  ?  Ought 
he  to  have  done  that  ?  Why  did  he  not  think 
of  the  other  ?  Then  came  the  wet  and  cheerless 
tossing  in  the  boats,  under  the  peremptory  orders 
of  the  German  officer ;  his  tedious  days  of 
suspense  on  board  the  German  prize,  with  the 
added  worry  of  his  wounded  leg  ;  and  now  he 
lay  captive  in  this  fetid  cell,  the  remorseless 


192    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

clashing  of  the  engines  in  his  ears.  He  might 
be  there  for  two  or  three  weeks,  for  the  sub- 
marine, instead  of  risking  the  Channel,  might 
go  home  north  about  Scotland  and  down  the 
North  Sea  to  a  German  port.  And,  also,  she 
might  be  sunk  on  the  way  by  a  British  ship  of  war. 

Truly  it  seemed  to  the  master  that  he  had  been 
brought  very  low.  And,  like  a  number  of  other 
people,  he  was  furious  with  some  person  or 
persons  unknown,  by  whose  fault  or  default  these 
things  had  befallen  him.  ...  He  did  not  know, 
then,  any  more  than  you,  the  reader  (if  you 
have  been  playing  fair),  that  his  story  was  to 
have  a  happy  ending. 

At  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  someone 
told  him  that  a  steamer  was  in  sight,  and  half 
an  hour  later  the  submarine  submerged.  The 
master,  from  his  bunk,  watched  the  German 
officer  peering  into  the  mirror  of  the  periscope, 
which  he  swung  on  its  pivot  by  two  handles 
fixed  at  about  the  level  of  his  eyes.  The  German, 
having  read  the  name  of  the  unconscious  vessel, 
which  was  the  Fulton,  of  Bergen,  and  had  the  Nor- 
wegian flag  blazoned  on  her  side,  called  the  master 
of  the  Donstad  to  the  periscope  to  find  if  he  knew 
this  ship  of  his  own  country. 

The  master  of  the  Donstad  seems  to  have 
satisfied  the  Germans  that  the  ship  was  of  Norway, 
and  that  she  carried  no  gun,  for  the  submarine 
came  to  the  surface  astern  of  the  Fulton,  and 
sounded  the  syren  as  a  signal  she  was  to  stop. 
The  ship  stopped  accordingly.  The  master  lay 
in  his  bunk  while  the  Germans  ascended  to  the 
deck  and  descended  again,  and  there  was 


HIDE-AND-SEEK   IN   THE   BAY       193 

coming  and  going,  and  an  armed  party  quitted 
the  submarine. 

The  commanding  officer  of  the  submarine  took 
possession  of  the  Fulton,  sending  a  prize  crew  on 
board. 

Then  the  master  was  suddenly  ordered  on 
deck,  together  with  the  master  and  crew  of  the 
Donstad.  The  master  was  informed  by  the 
commanding  officer  of  the  submarine  that 
although  his  orders  were  to  take  all  captured 
British  masters  to  Germany,  as  it  had  been 
reported  to  him  that  the  master  was  suffering 
from  a  wounded  leg,  the  master  would  be  sent 
on  shore  with  the  crew  of  the  Donstad.  So  that 
when  the  engineer  of  the  Donstad  permitted  a 
leak  in  his  heating  apparatus,  he  was  uncon- 
sciously serving  as  a  wedge  in  the  hand  of  destiny, 
which  presently  drove  the  master  of  the  Jevington 
apart  from  captivity  and  prison.  The  com- 
manding officer  of  the  submarine  may  receive 
all  due  credit  for  compassion.  It  is  also  the 
case  that  a  sick  man,  especially  if  he  occupies  an 
officer's  berth,  is  very  inconvenient  in  a  submarine. 

On  January  27th,  the  day  on  which  the  crew 
of  the  Jevington  were  landed  at  Liverpool  by 
the  Leonora,  the  master  of  the  Jevington  was 
landed  from  the  lifeboat  of  the  Fulton,  another 
neutral  ship,  at  a  Spanish  port.  The  crew  of 
the  Fulton  and  the  crew  of  the  Donstad  were 
landed  at  the  same  time.  The  Fulton  herself, 
manned  by  the  German  prize  crew,  proceeded 
to  sea.  So  far  as  Norway  is  concerned,  her 
mercantile  marine  might  as  well  be  owned  by 
Germany. 

o 


XXIX 
"BUT  NINE   OF  HER  CREW  ALIVE" 

NINE  O'CLOCK  on  the  morning  of  January  27th, 
1917,  in  very  dirty  weather,  in  the  North  Atlantic. 
One  of  his  Majesty's  patrol  boats  fighting  out  a 
full  easterly  gale  with  a  breaking  sea,  smothered 
in  water,  violently  flung  to  and  fro.  To  the 
lieutenant-commander,  R.N.R.,  comes  a  mes- 
senger with  a  signal  pad,  on  which  is  neatly 
written  an  intercepted  wireless  S.O.S.  call : 
"  S.S.  Artist  sinking  rapidly,  mined  or  torpedoed 
in '  then  followed  her  position.  The  lieu- 
tenant-commander replied  by  wireless  that  he 
was  proceeding  to  her  assistance.  No  answer 
came,  then  or  afterwards.  The  lieutenant  - 
commander  increased  his  speed  up  to  the  limit 
the  boat  could  stand  in  that  sea,  and  steered  for 
the  spot  indicated.  He  shoved  along  for  two 
hours  ;  then,  as  the  vessel  was  being  strained 
and  the  engines  were  racing,  he  reduced  speed ; 
an  hour  later  he  was  obliged  again  to  reduce 
speed.  At  half-past  one  he  arrived  at  the 
position  indicated.  There  was  nothing  but  the 
boiling  waste  of  waters. 


194 


"BUT  NINE  OF  HER  CREW  ALIVE  "     195 

The  lieutenant-commander  cruised  twelve 
miles  in  one  direction  and  twelve  miles  in  another ; 
the  wind  increasing,  the  sea  rising  higher,  the 
cold  very  bitter. 

At  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  lieu- 
tenant-commander was  obliged  to  heave-to.  He 
did  not  think  that  in  such  weather  the  boats  of 
the  sinking  ship  could  have  been  launched,  or  if 
they  were  launched,  that  they  could  live.  That 
night  it  blew  harder  than  ever,  and  the  thermo- 
meter fell  to  37  degrees.  At  nine  o'clock  the 
next  morning  the  lieutenant-commander  went 
to  succour  another  ship  in  distress,  and  so  passes 
out  of  this  story. 

He  was  right  and  wrong  in  his  surmise.  A 
little  after  the  lieutenant-commander  had 
received  the  S.O.S.  call  from  the  Artist,  the 
boats  had  been  launched  from  her,  and  one  lived. 
While  the  lieutenant-commander,  the  same 
afternoon,  was  beating  to  and  fro  in  the  raging 
sea  and  icy  spindrift,  there  was  a  boat  with  its 
miserable  crew  somewhere  near. 

It  was  between  eight  and  nine  on  that  Saturday 
morning,  January  27th,  1917,  when  the  Artist's 
wireless  operator  sent  out  his  call.  The  Artist, 
sailing  from  an  American  port,  had  run  right 
into  the  gale ;  and  she  had  been  hove-to  for 
three  nights  and  two  days.  Between  eight  and 
nine  in  the  morning,  without  a  sign  of  a  submarine, 
the  dull  boom  of  an  explosion  roared  through  the 
tumult  of  the  gale,  and  a  torpedo,  striking  the 
starboard  side  forward,  tore  a  huge  hole  close 
upon  the  water-line. 

There  was  not  a  moment  to  lose.    The  violent 

o  2 


196     THE   MERCHANT   SEAMAN   IN   WAR 

pitching  of  the  ship,  lying  head  to  sea,  ominously 
slackened  as  she  began  to  settle  by  the  head.  The 
sea  poured  over  her  bows  and  swept  the  decks 
from  stem  to  stern.  Waist-deep  in  water,  the 
crew  struggled  desperately  to  lower  the  three 
lifeboats.  In  one  boat  were  the  master  with  the 
second  and  third  officers  and  part  of  the  crew  ; 
in  another  were  the  chief  officer  and  part  of 
the  crew ;  and  in  the  third  were  a  cadet  and 
part  of  the  crew.  What  followed  is  taken  from 
the  cadet's  narrative. 

He  was  in  his  boat,  which  was  swung  out  on 
the  falls,  and  he  saw  the  chief  officer's  boat,  also 
swung  out,  dashed  against  the  ship's  side  as 
she  rolled,  and  broken.  The  next  moment  the 
cadet's  boat  was  borne  upwards  by  a  rising  wave, 
so  that  the  after  fall  was  pushed  upwards  and 
thus  unhooked.  As  the  boat  was  left  hanging 
by  the  bows  her  stern  dropped  suddenly.  Two 
men  were  flung  overboard  and  sank  at  once. 
The  next  wave  bodily  lifting  the  boat  on  an 
even  keel,  enabled  the  cadet  to  unhook  the 
foremost  fall,  and  the  men,  pulling  hard,  got 
clear  of  the  ship. 

As  he  pulled  clear,  the  cadet  saw  the  chief 
officer's  boat  filled  with  water  to  the  gunwale, 
broadside  on  to  the  tremendous  sea,  and  help- 
less. She  was  never  seen  again. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  master's  boat  had  also 
pulled  clear  of  the  sinking  ship.  Both  boats  laid 
out  sea  anchors  and  drifted  in  sight  of  each  other 
all  that  terrible  day. 

There  were  forty-five  persons  in  all  on  board 
the  Artist  when  she  was  torpedoed.  Some  had 


"BUT  NINE  OF  HER  CREW  ALIVE"     197 

gone  down  in  the  chief  officer's  boat,  some  were 
in  the  captain's  boat,  and  in  the  cadet's  boat  were 
sixteen  persons. 

That  night,  the  night  of  January  27th,  as 
the  lieutenant-commander  stated,  the  gale 
increased  in  violence  and  the  thermometer 
dropped  to  37  degrees.  Somehow,  the  frozen, 
wet,  exhausted  men  must  keep  baling  out  the 
boat,  and  her  head  to  the  sea.  Concerning  the 
horrors  of  that  night  the  cadet  says  nothing. 
It  is  possible  that  the  partial  paralysis  of  the 
faculties,  induced  by  long  exposure,  dulls  the 
memory.  There  is  no  consciousness  of  time,  but 
a  quite  hopeless  conviction  of  eternity.  The 
state  of  men  enduring  prolonged  and  intense 
hardship  seems  to  them  to  have  had  no  beginning 
and  to  have  no  end.  After  a  period  of  acute 
suffering,  varying  according  to  the  individual, 
the  edge  of  pain  is  blunted  and  numbness  sets 
in.  In  many  cases  the  retardation  of  the 
circulation,  withdrawing  the  full  supply  of 
blood  to  the  head,  causes  delirium,  in  which 
men  shout  and  babble,  drink  salt  water,  and 
leap  overboard.  By  degrees  the  heart's  action 
is  weakened,  and  finally  stops.  Then  the 
man  dies.  Seven  men  in  the  cadet's  boat  did 
in  fact  die. 

After  the  night  of  the  27th  the  captain's  boat 
was  no  more  seen.  The  cadet  and  his  crew  alone 
were  left  of  the  people  of  the  Artist. 

They  drifted  in  the  gale  all  that  Sunday,  the 
28th,  all  Monday,  all  Monday  night.  Men  died, 
one  after  another,  and  the  pitiless  sea  received 
their  bodies.  When  each  one  passed  the  cadet 


198     THE   MERCHANT   SEAMAN  IN   WAR 

does  not  state.  Probably  he  could  not  remember. 
For  the  survivors  were  dying,  too.  They  were 
dying  upwards  from  their  feet,  in  which  frost- 
bite had  set  in.  One  man,  a  fireman,  endured 
the  agony  of  a  broken  arm.  .  .  . 

On  the  night  of  January  29th-30th,  when 
the  castaways  had  been  adrift  for  three  days 
and  three  nights,  they  saw  the  distant  lights  of 
land  towards  the  north.  The  wind  and  sea 
began  to  go  down,  and  at  daylight  the  crew 
hoisted  sail  and  steered  north.  At  a  little 
after  nine  on  that  Tuesday  morning,  exactly 
seventy-two  hours  since  they  had  cleared  the 
sinking  ship,  they  sighted  the  smoke  of  an 
outward-bound  steamer.  Twenty  minutes  later 
nine  men  were  taken  on  board,  and  one  dead 
man  was  left  in  the  boat. 

The  rescued  men  were  transferred  to  a 
patrol  boat,  which  landed  them  in  an  Irish 
port  the  same  evening.  Here,  says  the  cadet, 
"  the  Shipwrecked  Mariners'  authorities  took 
care  of  us  and  did  all  they  possibly  could 
for  us." 

Five  of  the  nine  survivors  were  placed  in 
hospital.  The  remaining  four,  of  whom  the 
sturdy  cadet  was  one,  speedily  recovered. 

The  boat  with  the  dead  man  in  her  was  picked 
up  by  a  patrol  vessel. 

A  brief  official  account  of  the  affair  was 
published  at  the  time  by  the  Secretary  of  the 
Admiralty,  who  remarked  that  "  The  pledge 
given  by  Germany  to  the  United  States  not  to 
sink  merchant  ships  without  ensuring  the  safety 
of  the  passengers  and  crews  has  been  broken 


"BUT  NINE  OF  HER  CREW  ALIVE"     199 

before,    but   never   in   circumstances   of   more 
cold-blooded  brutality." 

But  when  it  comes  to  brutality  the  Germans 
can  do  better  than  that,  as  will  be  seen.  What's 
the  use  of  talking  ? 


XXX 
DEAD   MEN'S   LUCK 

ON  the  evening  of  Sunday,  February  4th,  1917, 
the  steamship  Dauntless  was  in  the  northern  part 
of  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  outward  bound  with  a 
cargo  of  coal.  At  six  o'clock  the  master  and  the 
second  officer  were  on  the  bridge,  keeping  a 
vigilant  watch  in  the  clear  darkness,  whitened 
by  the  foam  of  a  heaving  sea.  There  was  nothing 
in  sight,  when  there  came  the  report  of  a  gun,  and 
a  shell  sang  over  the  bridge,  and  then  another. 
One  passed  through  the  funnel,  the  other  smashed 
the  steering-gear,  so  that  when  the  master  tried 
to  put  the  helm  over  it  jammed,  and  the  Daunt- 
less went  straight  on.  The  man  at  the  wheel 
was  wounded  in  the  leg.  The  master  was 
wounded  in  the  right  shoulder  and  left  arm. 
Projectiles  whistled  from  out  the  darkness.  The 
ship  was  hit  and  a  fireman  was  killed.  The 
master  stopped  the  ship  and  blew  four  blasts  on 
the  whistle,  signifying  that  the  ship  was  being 
abandoned.  The  invisible  submarine  continued 
to  fire.  The  two  lifeboats  were  got  away  under 
shell  fire  and  rifle  fire.  Two  men,  one  on  either 
side  the  second  officer,  were  wounded  as  they  were 

200 


DEAD   MEN'S   LUCK  201 

embarking  in  the  starboard  lifeboat.  The  chief 
officer  seems  to  have  been  in  command  of  the 
port  lifeboat,  but  there  is  a  doubt  on  this  point. 
For  the  moment  the  port  lifeboat  disappears, 
for  her  crew  rowed  away  and  were  no  more  seen 
by  the  people  in  the  master's  boat.  It  is  neces- 
sary to  be  particular  about  the  boats,  as  will 
appear.  We  have  now  to  do  with  the  starboard 
lifeboat,  in  which  were  the  master  and  seventeen 
others.  One  dead  man  was  left  in  the  ship.  The 
master  and  three  men  were  wounded. 

It  was  then  about  half-past  six.  The  sub- 
marine hove  into  view  and  drew  alongside  the 
master's  boat.  She  bore  the  marks  of  usage 
and  her  gun  was  rusty.  Officers  and  men  wore 
blue  uniform.  The  commanding  officer  ordered 
the  master  and  the  crew  on  board  the  submarine. 
Then  the  submarine  officer  asked  the  master  if 
there  was  anyone  left  in  the  Dauntless.  Upon 
being  told  that  the  ship  was  deserted,  save  for 
one  dead  man,  the  German  officer  ordered  some 
of  his  men  to  go  on  board  her  in  the  master's 
boat.  He  presented  a  revolver  at  the  master's 
head,  telling  him  that  if  anyone  was  found  alive 
in  the  Dauntless  the  master  would  immediately 
be  shot. 

What  the  Germans  were  after  was  plunder. 
The  men  of  the  Dauntless,  sullenly  grouped 
upon  the  deck  of  the  submarine,  during  an 
hour  or  so  contemplated  the  pirates  bringing 
loot  from  the  Dauntless  to  the  submarine  in  the 
Dauntless* s  jolly-boat,  which  had  been  left  on 
board,  and  the  starboard  lifeboat.  The  second 
officer  saw  tinned  provisions,  enamel  paint  and 


202     THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

turpentine,  among  other  things,  handed  up  from 
the  boats. 

At  about  eight  o'clock,  when  the  boats  were 
emptied,  the  men  of  the  Dauntless,  gazing  at  the 
dim  ship  looming  on  the  dark,  saw  a  red  flash 
leap  from  her,  and  heard  a  dull  explosion,  and 
the  dim  ship  disappeared. 

The  submarine  officer  ordered  the  master  and 
the  crew  of  the  Dauntless  into  the  starboard  life- 
boat. But  when  the  master  represented  that 
the  lifeboat  had  been  damaged  by  gunfire  and 
was  leaking,  the  German  kindly  allowed  the 
master  to  take  the  jolly-boat  also.  The  master 
divided  the  crew  between  the  two  boats.  In  the 
jolly-boat  were  the  master,  the  second  officer, 
the  chief,  second  and  third  engineers,  the  steward 
and  a  fireman  ;  seven  persons  in  all.  The  rest 
went  away  in  the  leaking  starboard  lifeboat, 
which  soon  afterwards  parted  from  the  master's 
boat,  and  was  never  seen  again. 

Already  the  port  lifeboat  had  gone  away ; 
but  her  story  is  to  come.  With  the  starboard 
lifeboat  we  have  no  more  to  do.  There  remains 
the  jolly-boat. 

As  she  parted  from  the  submarine  the  master 
asked  a  German  if  the  land  was  five  miles  away, 
and  the  German  replied  "  More."  There  is 
indeed  some  uncertainty  as  to  the  exact  position 
from  which  the  boats  started,  as  there  was  an 
increasing  easterly  wind,  and  also  the  drift  of 
the  current  in  those  waters. 

It  is  not  known  if  there  were  provisions  in 
the  starboard  lifeboat  which  went  away  and 
was  no  more  seen.  But  it  is  quite  certain  that 


DEAD   MEN'S   LUCK  208 

the  Germans,  having  stolen  all  the  provisions 
they  could  find  in  the  Dauntless,  sent  the  seven 
people  adrift  in  the  jolly-boat  without  food  or 
water,  in  rough  weather,  and  one  of  them,  the 
master,  badly  wounded. 

The  master,  despite  the  shrapnel  bullets  he 
carried  in  his  left  arm  and  shoulder,  steered ; 
the  other  six  men  rowed,  and  went  on  rowing. 
The  wind  and  sea  had  risen,  and  were  dead 
against  the  easterly  course  steered  by  the 
master ;  the  cold  was  extreme,  with  occasional 
storms  of  snow.  They  rowed  all  that  night.  At 
about  six  o'clock  the  next  morning  the  steward 
fell  forward,  dead. 

They  went  on  rowing  all  that  day,  Monday, 
without  bite  or  sup  ;  cold,  wet,  tormented  by 
thirst,  their  tongues  swelling,  their  lips  black, 
their  skin  cracking  with  the  salt  spray  and  the 
bitter  wind ;  still  the  five  men  rowed,  and  the 
dead  man  lay  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  and  the 
master  steered.  In  the  evening  they  committed 
the  body  of  the  steward  to  the  deep.  Then  they 
sighted  land.  It  was  near  nightfall ;  a  thick 
shower  of  snow  drove  down  and  they  lost  the 
lie  of  the  land,  though  it  was  no  more  than  three 
or  four  miles  away. 

They  rowed  all  that  night.  At  daylight,  next 
morning,  Tuesday,  February  6th,  they  sighted 
land  again,  and  so  they  went  on  rowing.  They 
saw  the  breakers  bursting  all  along  the  beach  ; 
but,  wholly  spent,  they  could  do  no  more  than 
keep  the  boat  just  moving ;  and  as  her  nose 
touched  ground  a  wave  capsized  her,  and  the  six 
men  were  flung  into  the  surf. 


204     THE   MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN   WAR 

They  struggled  up  on  the  beach  and  fell  down. 
Two  of  them,  the  second  engineer  and  the  fireman, 
then  and  there  died  on  the  wet  sand  where  they 
lay. 

About  half-past  ten  on  that  Tuesday  morning 
a  French  coastguardsman,  fully  armed,  was 
marching  his  lonely  beat  along  the  shore,  when 
he  saw  four  bowed  figures  stumbling  towards  him 
in  the  distance.  A  little  beyond  them  a  capsized 
boat  was  tossing  in  the  surf. 

The  Frenchman,  with  admirable  presence  of 
mind,  immediately  decided  that  four  German 
sailors  had  landed.  He  drew  his  revolver,  and, 
swiftly  approaching  the  strangers,  commanded 
them  to  put  up  their  hands.  Three  of  them  stiffly 
lifted  swollen  hands  ;  the  fourth  tried  to  lift  his 
arms  a  little.  They  stared  upon  him  with  faces 
like  the  faces  of  men  in  torment,  and  one  began 
to  speak,  uttering  strange  sounds,  thickly  and 
slowly,  framing  the  same  words  over  and  over 
again,  with  a  find  ofpitiful  desperation. 

And  presently  the  Irench  coastguardsman  saw 
light.  Ah,  what  a  change  !  And  there  was  his 
little  house,  where  the  English  could  rest  until 
they  were  taken  away  by  the  authorities  to 
hospital. 

Ten  days  later,  the  master  had  so  far  recovered 
that  he  was  able  to  leave  his  bed,  and  the  second 
officer,  the  chief  engineer  and  the  third  engineer 
were  at  home  in  England. 

When  the  six  men  in  the  jolly-boat 
reached  land  they  had  been  adrift  during  nearly 
forty  hours.  That  was  on  Tuesday,  February 
6th.  Where,  during  that  time,  was  the  port 


DEAD   MEN'S   LUCK  205 

lifeboat  ?  No  one  knew.  All  that  the  survivors 
in  the  jolly-boat  knew  was  that  when  the  boats 
were  lowered  from  the  Dauntless,  the  port  life- 
boat had  gone  away  with  four  (or  five)  men  in 
her. 

The  Dauntless  was  abandoned  on  Sunday 
evening,  February  4th.  On  the  following  Friday, 
the  9th,  a  Spanish  trawler,  cruising  in  the  Bay 
of  Biscay,  sighted  a  boat  tossing  in  the  distance. 
There  were  men  in  her,  but  whether  dead  or  alive 
the  Spaniard  could  not  discern. 

Coming  alongside,  the  Spanish  sailors  looked 
down  upon  four  men  huddled  together.  Their 
eyes  moved.  Otherwise  they  were  dead. 

During  five  days  and  five  nights  they  had 
been  adrift  on  the  winter  sea.  They  had  a  little 
biscuit.  They  had  no  water.  There  were  the 
two  seaman  gunners,  the  cook  and  a  negro.  The 
Spaniards  landed  them  and  they  were  placed  in 
hospital. 

After  three  months  in  hospital  one  of  the 
gunners  came  home  and  made  his  report,  which 
begins  :  "  I  was  the  gun's  crew  of  the  Daunt- 
less" and  goes  on  to  describe  his  experiences  in 
the  boat  in  two  sentences  :  "  We  drifted  about 
in  the  Bay  for  five  days.  We  had  biscuits  but 
no  water." 

These  four  men  in  the  port  lifeboat,  and  the 
master  and  the  three  officers  in  the  jolly-boat 
survived  out  of  the  twenty-three  people  of  the 
Dauntless. 


XXXI 
FIRING  ON  THE  BOATS 

SAID  the  third  officer  to  the  quartermaster, 
who  was  at  the  wheel,  "  James  " — but  that  was 
not  his  name — "  James,"  said  the  third  officer, 
"  I  think  there  is  a  submarine  on  our  starboard 
bow." 

The  quartermaster's  subsequent  impressions 
were  extremely  crowded.  The  dusk  of  the  late 
afternoon  was  thickening  the  easterly  haze ; 
and,  staring  across  the  long,  smooth  swell,  the 
quartermaster  discerned  the  dark  conning-tower 
and  lighter  hull  of  a  submarine  some  two  and  a 
half  miles  away,  and  the  indistinct  figures  of  two 
officers  on  the  conning-tower,  and  three  or  four 
men  grouped  on  the  deck.  At  the  same  time  he 
was  aware  that  the  third  officer  was  speaking  to 
the  captain  down  the  voice-tube.  Then  a  gun 
spoke  on  the  submarine  and  a  shell  went  by  in 
the  air.  The  master  arrived  on  the  bridge.  So 
did  the  chief  officer.  The  master  turned  the 
engine-room  telegraph  to  stop,  blew  on  the  whistle 
the  four  short  blasts  signifying  "  Abandon  ship," 
and  ordered  the  boats  to  be  swung  out  and 


FIRING  ON  THE  BOATS  207 

manned.  All  these  things  happened  very  quickly. 
The  quartermaster  having  run  to  his  boat,  saw 
a  shell  burst  in  the  wheel-house  which  he  had 
just  quitted. 

In  the  meantime  the  master  on  the  bridge  saw 
the  submarine  sink  and  disappear.  Watching, 
he  saw  her  emerge  again  on  the  port  side.  She 
opened  fire  again.  The  master  went  to  his  cabin, 
possibly  to  fetch  his  confidential  papers.  The 
starboard  lifeboat,  which  was  the  master's  boat, 
had  pulled  clear  of  the  ship. 

The  port  lifeboat  was  being  lowered.  The 
submarine  continued  deliberately  to  fire.  It 
is  one  of  the  clearest  cases  on  record  of  a  German 
submarine  officer  continuing  to  fire  upon  a  ship 
after  she  had  surrendered  and  while  the  crew 
were  getting  away  the  boats.  The  boatswain  and 
three  men  were  severely  wounded  by  shell 
splinters.  A  shell  exploded  in  the  fiddley  (or 
deck-house),  setting  the  bunkers  on  fire.  Paraffin 
oil  was  pouring  from  the  stricken  ship,  slowly 
spreading  a  viscous  surface  upon  the  heaving 
waters. 

The  master  came  on  deck  to  find  his  own  boat 
gone,  and  the  chief  officer's  boat  waiting  for  him, 
blood  all  about,  five  men  huddled  and  helpless, 
splinters  flying,  and,  standing  off  in  the  twilight, 
the  sea-wolves  at  their  murderous  work. 

That  night  the  boatswain  died  of  his  wounds 
and  was  buried  at  sea. 

It  was  February  7th,  1917,  when  the  steamship 
Saxonian  was  attacked,  and  the  crew  sent  adrift 
in  open  boats  in  the  North  Atlantic.  (Further 
south,  the  port  lifeboat  of  the  Dauntless  was 


208     THE   MERCHANT   SEAMAN   IN   WAR 

even  then  drifting  with  four  starving  wretches  in 
her.) 

The  chief  officer's  boat  was  picked  up  the 
next  morning  by  a  patrol  vessel.  The  second 
officer's  boat  drifted  for  three  days  and  three 
nights,  when  she  was  picked  up  by  one  of  his 
Majesty's  ships.  (That  was  on  the  10th,  the  day 
after  the  Dauntless*  survivors  had  been  rescued 
by  the  Spanish  fishermen.) 

The  patrol  boat  which  found  the  chief  officer 
and  his  people  steamed  to  the  scene  of  the 
capture,  and  there  beheld  a  sullenly  undulating 
field  of  oil,  strewn  with  floating  wreckage,  the 
remains  of  the  Saxonian. 


XXXII 
THE    SLAVERS 

THE  story  of  the  Gravina  is  told  by  one  man, 
a  Spaniard,  who  escaped.  He  told  the  story  in 
a  Scottish  port,  nearly  three  months  after  the 
Gravina  was  lost.  He  came  to  the  port  in  a 
British  ship,  in  which  he  was  serving  as  fireman  ; 
and  you  can  conceive  the  rough  figure,  with  its 
swarthy  and  hard  features  and  dark  eyes,  clad 
in  stained  seafaring  clothes,  telling  his  adventures 
with  point  and  freedom.  There  is  indeed  in  his 
narrative  a  certain  vividness  of  detail  usually 
absent  in  the  records  of  British  seamen. 

The  Spaniard  was  donkeyman  in  the  steamship 
Gravina,  which  was  bound  from  a  Spanish  port  to 
London  with  a  cargo  of  oranges.  It  was  on  that 
fatal  February  7th,  1917,  when  the  Saxonian  was 
put  down,  and  the  four  men  of  the  Dauntless 
were  drifting  in  their  boat  in  the  Bay  of  Biscay, 
not  to  mention  other  calamities.  The  Gravina 
was  less  than  a  hundred  miles  from  the  coast  of 
Ireland,  pitching  and  rolling  in  a  rough  sea.  At 
about  a  quarter  to  eight  in  the  evening  the 
donkeyman  was  attending  to  his  engine,  when  he 


209 


210     THE   MERCHANT   SEAMAN  IN   WAR 

felt,  as  he  says,  a  terrific  explosion.  "  Without 
knowing  exactly  how  I  got  there,"  he  continues, 
"  I  found  myself  in  the  water,  and  just  got  a 
glimpse  of  the  ship  before  she  sank.  The  whole 
midship  part  seemed  to  have  been  blown  out  of 
her.  Her  funnel  and  -bridges  were  gone,  and  she 
seemed  to  be  in  two  parts.  She  sank  well  inside 
of  a  minute."  And  that  was  the  end  of  the 
Gravina,  torpedoed  without  warning. 

Some  of  the  crew  clung  to  pieces  of  wreck. 
Beaten  upon  by  the  cold  sea,  gradually  freezing 
to  death,  some  thus  kept  afloat  for  three  hours. 
Then  the  submarine  appeared,  and  cast  lifebuoys 
attached  to  lines  into  the  water,  and  so  drew 
fifteen  wretched  castaways  on  board,  fifteen  out 
of  twenty-two  of  the  crew  of  the  Gravina.  It 
seems  that  the  submarine  waited  for  three  hours, 
because,  owing  to  the  arrival  of  a  British  vessel 
of  war,  she  was  obliged  to  submerge. 

The  rescued  men  were  sent  down  the  after 
hatch  of  the  submarine  into  her  torpedo  and 
ammunition  store,  where  they  were  each  served 
out  with  a  glass  of  gin.  There  were  the  master, 
two  mates,  the  second  engineer,  one  Norwegian, 
two  men  of  undefined  nationality,  and  eight 
Spanish  firemen,  among  whom  was  the  donkey- 
man. 

Says  the  donkeyman,  "  The  commander  and 
officers  of  the  submarine  were  delighted  with 
this  piece  of  work,  and  talked  of  it  as  being 
the  finest  explosion  they  had  seen  by  a  torpedo." 

The  donkeyman,  conversing  with  the  German 
sailors,  was  informed  by  them  of  the  extra  - 
ordinarv  merits  of  German  submarines  and  of 


THE  SLAVERS  211 

German  guns  and  of  everything  German.  The 
donkeyman  also  learned  that  in  addition  to  the 
crew  of  the  Gravina,  there  were  two  British 
masters,  prisoners  of  war,  secluded  in  the  for- 
ward part  of  the  vessel. 

The  seventeen  captives  were  nine  days  on 
board  the  submarine.  During  the  whole  of  that 
time,  or  the  greater  part  of  it,  they  were  battened 
down  in  the  hold.  Of  the  miseries  they  endured, 
of  the  foul  atmosphere,  the  cramped  space,  the 
deadly  cold  (for  a  submerged  submarine  takes 
the  temperature  of  the  water),  the  perpetual 
menace  of  death,  or,  failing  death,  the  terror 
of  a  German  prison :  of  all  these  things,  the 
donkeyman  says  nothing.  He  merely  records 
that  the  captives  were  fed  well,  chiefly  on  tinned 
commodities.  Now  and  again  they  heard  the 
firing  of  the  gun  on  deck. 

The  German  sailors  told  him  that  two  more 
steamers  and  a  sailing  ship  had  been  sunk,  and 
that  another  steamer  had  been  attacked,  but  had 
beaten  off  the  submarine  with  gunfire  and  forced 
her  to  submerge. 

On  the  ninth  day  of  their  captivity  the 
prisoners  were  landed  at  Heligoland,  where  they 
were  clapped  in  prison,  "  where  we  were  kept  for 
three  days,  and  lived  on  half  a  pound  of  bread 
and  turnips." 

Thence  the  party  was  sent  in  a  patrol  steamer 
to  Bremerhaven,  "  where  we  were  kept  in  a 
commandeered  restaurant,  and  then  a  barracks, 
and  fed  on  half  a  pound  of  bread,  turnips  and 
weak  coffee." 

Thence  they  were  sent  by  rail  to  the  huge 

P  2 


212     THE   MERCHANT   SEAMAN   IN   WAR 

internment  camp  at  Brandenburg.  Here  the 
officers  were  separated  from  the  men.  At  least 
nine  of  the  men  were  neutrals.  The  British 
subjects  were  civilians,  owning  the  rights  of 
the  civilians  of  a  belligerent  country.  But  the 
Germans  treated  neutrals  and  civilians  alike  as 
slaves. 

The  men  were  quartered  in  a  shed.  They  were 
inoculated  on  the  day  of  their  arrival.  They 
were  put  to  work.  They  were  made  to  saw  wood 
and  to  build  roads.  They  were  paid  1m.  2f.  a 
week.  "  And  we  still  lived  on  half  a  pound  of 
bread  and  turnips." 

One  of  the  Spaniards  protested  against  his 
treatment,  and  was  beaten  about  the  head  for 
his  pains. 

The  donkeyman  knew  not  by  what  means  his 
repatriation  was  arranged ;  but  after  three 
weeks'  slavery  he  and  the  rest  of  the  Spaniards 
were  sent  back  through  Switzerland  to  Spain. 
Then  he  shipped  again  in  a  British  ship,  and  so 
came  to  Scotland,  where  he  told  his  history. 

What  of  the  British  prisoners  ?  From  that 
ghastly  slave  camp  of  five  or  six  thousand 
captives,  Russians,  French,  Japanese  and  British, 
arrive  now  and  again  sinister  reports  of  the 
brutality  of  sentries,  of  starvation,  of  the  robbing 
of  their  parcels  of  the  British,  of  bullying  and 
maltreatment.  It  seems,  however,  that  the 
officers  of  the  Gravina,  after  about  a  month  in 
purgatory,  were  moved  to  another  camp. 


XXX  III 
A   DESPEKATE   PASS 

THEEE  were  wild  weather  and  wicked  doings 
in  the  Atlantic  on  February  7th,  1917  ;  but  on 
the  other  side  of  England,  in  the  North  Sea, 
it  seemed  to  the  master  of  the  little  steamship 
Hanna  Larsen,  that  all  was  peaceful  enough. 
He  had  left  the  Port  of  London  just  after  midnight 
on  the  preceding  day,  going  down  with  the  tide, 
past  the  three-decker  men-of-war  training  hulks, 
and  that  mariner's  mark,  the  spire  of  Gravesend 
church,  and  round  the  wide  bend  past  Thames- 
haven,  and  so  out  to  the  Nore  as  the  sunrise 
shone  ahead,  and  then  he  steered  north. 

The  night  of  the  7th  fell  hazy  and  calm,  with 
a  smooth  sea.  At  a  little  after  eleven  o'clock  the 
master,  leaving  the  second  officer  on  the  bridge, 
went  into  the  chart-room. 

He  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  a  gunshot. 
As  he  ran  to  the  bridge  three  more  shells  sang 
about  his  ears.  The  master  could  not  detect 
whence  they  came.  He  ordered  the  engines  to 
be  reversed  to  take  the  way  off  the  ship  ;  told 
the  second  officer  to  read  the  patent  log;  assembled 


213 


214     THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

the  ship's  company  on  deck,  with  the  exception 
of  the  chief  engineer,  a  fireman  and  a  donkeyman, 
who  remained  below.  The  boats  were  swung  out 
ready  for  lowering.  Then  nothing  happened. 
They  waited.  They  waited  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour.  The  shots  might  have  been  fired  by  a 
British  ship  at  an  enemy  unseen  by  the  people 
of  the  Hanna  Larsen ;  or  a  British  ship  might 
have  mistaken  her  for  an  enemy ;  or  an  enemy 
submarine  might  have  opened  fire,  and  then 
taken  fright  at  the  approach  of  a  British  ship  of 
war  and  dived.  In  that  indecipherable  and 
mysterious  darkness  anything  was  possible. 

The  master  decided  to  go  on.  When  a  ship  has 
been  stopped  and  the  crew  are  expecting  in  immi- 
nent danger  to  abandon  ship,  it  is  always  something 
of  a  test  of  discipline  to  issue  orders  to  carry  on. 

The  men  returned  to  their  stati  ons  ;  the  engines 
went  slow  ahead  and  then  quickened  to  full  speed. 
A  few  minutes  afterwards  another  shot  came  over. 
It  was  fired  from  off  the  starboard  quarter  and 
passed  just  over  the  bridge.  The  master  again 
reversed  engines.  He  sounded  three  blasts  on 
the  whistle,  signifying  "  Abandon  ship."  Three 
more  shells  were  fired,  striking  the  boat  deck 
and  breaking  a  steam-pipe,  so  that  the  steam 
poured  up  on  deck.  The  master  ordered  the  men 
into  the  boats  and  burned  his  confidential  papers 
in  the  galley  fire. 

The  unseen  enemy  continued  to  fire  while  the 
men  were  embarking  in  the  boats.  The  second 
engineer,  the  steward  and  two  able  seamen  were 
wounded. 

While  the  two  boats  were  pulling  away  from  the 


A  DESPERATE   PASS  215 

ship  the  master  saw  a  submarine,  gleaming  a  faint 
grey  upon  the  dark,  stealing  round  the  bows  of 
the  ship.  She  bore  no  flag,  nor  mark  nor  number. 

The  commanding  officer  of  the  submarine 
hailed  the  boats  and  ordered  them  alongside. 
As  the  men  in  the  master's  boat  hung  on  to  the 
port-side  of  the  submarine,  a  muffled  figure  in 
her  conning-tower  demanded  to  be  told  where 
was  the  master.  When  the  master  replied,  he 
was  ordered  on  board  the  submarine,  together 
with  four  or  five  hands.  The  chief  officer,  two 
able  seamen  and  the  engineer's  steward  followed 
the  master  on  board  the  enemy,  a  voluntary  action 
on  their  part  worth  noting. 

Five  of  the  Hanna  Larsen's  crew  remained  in 
the  boat,  and  these  were  joined  by  several  German 
sailors,  bringing  bombs  on  board. 

In  the  meantime  the  second  lifeboat  had  made 
fast  to  the  stern  of  the  submarine. 

The  master  told  the  commanding  officer  of  the 
submarine  that  one  of  the  master's  crew  was 
badly  wounded  in  the  head,  whereupon  the 
German  officer  ordered  one  of  his  people  to  fetch 
lint  and  dress  the  wound. 

The  master,  being  behind  the  conning-tower, 
did  not  see  what  happened  next,  but  the  chief 
engineer,  in  his  boat  astern  of  the  submarine, 
afterwards  told  the  master  that  the  master's 
boat,  partly  manned  by  the  five  men  of  the 
Hanna  Larsen  and  partly  by  Germans,  pulled 
over  to  the  Hanna  Larsen,  into  which  the 
Germans  climbed.  They  slung  their  bombs  over 
the  starboard  side,  searched  the  ship  and  took 
food  and  clothing  and  other  things,  put  these 


216     THE   MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

in  the  boat,  ignited  the  fuses  of  the  bombs  and 
pulled  back  to  the  submarine.  A  little  after, 
flames  lit  the  night,  and  there  were  several  heavy 
explosions. 

The  chief  officer,  the  steward  and  the  two 
able  seamen  who  had  followed  the  master  on 
board  were  ordered  into  their  boat.  The  chief 
engineer,  in  the  other  boat,  was  ordered  on 
board  the  submarine.  With  the  master,  he  was 
sent  below.  Then  the  commanding  officer  of 
the  submarine  ordered  the  men  in  the  two  boats 
to  shove  off.  They  were  subsequently  landed. 
The  wounded  men  went  to  hospital,  where  one 
of  the  able  seamen  died. 

Turn  we  to  the  master  and  the  chief  engineer, 
helpless  and  captive  among  the  strange  and  evil 
under-water  folk  who  had  robbed  them  of  their 
ship.  They  contemplated  the  stiff,  unseamanlike 
figures,  the  hard  and  servile  faces  moving  in 
that  long,  rounded  cell  crammed  with  mysterious 
mechanism,  going  about  their  murderous  business 
in  the  dead  of  night ;  and  a  more  hopeless  situa- 
tion the  two  British  seamen  had  never  confronted. 

Presently  a  German  officer  descended.  He 
wanted  to  know  where  the  master  kept  his 
chronometer,  sextant  and  papers,  because,  he 
said,  a  party  was  going  to  the  Hanna  Larsen  again. 

The  master  subsequently  learned  that  the 
ship  was  again  plundered,  and  that  she  was 
finally  sunk  by  the  explosion  of  bombs  placed 
inside  the  hull.  (As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  did  not 
sink  till  the  following  day.) 

The  two  prisoners  slept  that  night  in  hammocks 
on  the  floor.  They  slept,  But  the  next  morning 


A  DESPERATE   PASS  217 

the  master  had  no  stomach  for  his  breakfast. 
Empty  as  he  was,  he  was  summoned  to  the 
commanding  officer,  where  he  sat  in  sacred 
isolation  in  his  cabin  aft. 

The  German  offered  wine  to  the  master,  either 
because  he  was  obviously  ailing,  or  to  loosen  his 
tongue,  and  proceeded  to  question  him  as  to  the 
position  of  the  British  minefield.  Getting  very 
little  satisfaction  on  this  point,  the  German  told 
the  master  that  he,  the  master,  and  the  chief 
engineer  had  been  taken  prisoner,  because  orders 
had  been  issued  to  capture  all  masters  and  chief 
engineers,  so  that  the  supply  of  officers  for  the 
British  merchant  service  should  be  depleted. 
The  German  officer  also  said  that  the  two 
prisoners  would  be  taken  to  Zeebrugge  and  thence 
to  Ruhleben.  He  added  that  he  had  put  down 
eighteen  ships,  and  would  sink  thirty  before  he 
returned  to  port.  That  was  what  he  said.  But 
he  was  mistaken. 

After  this  encouraging  conversation,  the  master 
and  the  chief  engineer  occupied  themselves  in 
deducing  what  was  going  forward  on  deck  from 
what  they  heard  and  saw  below.  They  had 
scarce  a  dull  moment. 

The  submarine  was  cruising  on  the  surface. 
Soundings  were  taken  every  twenty  minutes. 
From  time  to  time  came  the  report  and  the 
vibration  of  firing,  the  men  below  passing  up 
shells  to  the  gunners  on  deck.  After  one  of 
these  attacks  a  German  brought  down  below  a 
sextant,  a  chronometer  and  a  Norwegian  flag,  and 
proudly  exhibited  these  trophies  to  the  prisoners. 

The  two  prisoners,  like  others  in  the  same  case, 


218     THE  MERCHANT   SEAMAN   IN  WAR 

saw  no  alternative  in  their  future  between  being 
taken  to  a  German  prison  camp,  and  being  sunk 
with  the  submarine  by  a  British  ship  of  war. 
And  in  these  waters,  off  the  English  coast,  it 
was  singularly  probable  that  they  would  be 
sent  to  the  bottom  without  a  chance  of  escape, 
especially  as  the  German  officer  in  command  was 
so  busy  and  zealous.  That  morning,  for  instance, 
he  had  begun  at  eight  o'clock  with  the  Nor- 
wegian .  .  .  He  was  still  at  it. 

It  was  about  two  hours  later  when  a  couple 
of  rounds  were  fired  on  deck ;  and  the  next 
moment  officers  and  men  came  tumbling  down 
below,  exhibiting  every  mark  of  terror,  and  the 
submarine  was  made  hurriedly  to  dive.  The 
spectacle  was  far  from  inspiriting. 

The  two  prisoners  fortified  themselves  with 
dinner,  which  was  good  and  plentiful,  and 
awaited  the  next  crisis.  It  arrived  about  half- 
past  one. 

Firing  broke  out  again  on  deck.  It  ceased,  and 
the  submarine  dived  below  the  surface.  Officers 
and  men  were  clearly  in  a  state  of  high  tension. 
There  was  a  pause.  Then  came  a  formidable 
explosion,  and  a  tremendous  shock  jarred  the 
submarine  from  end  to  end.  The  top  plating 
was  burst  open,  and  the  water  poured  into  the 
vessel.  Now,  thought  the  two  prisoners,  it  has 
come.  This  is  the  end.  .  .  . 

The  commanding  officer  issued  sharp  orders  to 
the  men  at  their  stations  beside  the  valves,  and 
the  submarine  rose  swiftly  to  the  surface.  The 
captain,  followed  by  the  rest  of  the  officers  and 
the  whole  of  the  crew,  crowded  up  the  ladders. 


A   DESPERATE   PASS  219 

They  left  the  engines  running.  They  left  the  two 
prisoners  below,  the  water  spouting  through  the 
buckling  plates  into  the  chamber,  the  vessel 
heeling  over.  Outside,  shot  after  shot  rang  out ; 
the  two  men  below  felt  the  shock  of  their  impact, 
and  pieces  of  the  conning-tower  crashed  down 
the  hatchway. 

The  master  and  the  chief  engineer  decided  to 
die,  if  die  they  must,  in  the  open.  So  up  they 
went,  into  the  clean  air  and  the  daylight ;  and 
there,  ranging  up  alongside,  was  a  British  man- 
of-war.  The  master  flourished  his  handkerchief. 
The  Germans,  each  man's  hand  uplifted,  stood 
ranked  along  the  heeling  deck,  like  a  row  of 
mechanical  toys.  Two  Germans  lay  prone  on 
the  deck,  with  blood  about  them.  Two  were 
in  the  water. 

The  man-of-war  was  getting  a  boat  away,  and, 
perceiving  that  the  surrender  was  accepted,  one  of 
the  Germans  went  below  and  stopped  the  engines. 

The  master  and  the  chief  engineer  saw  the 

bluejackets    swinging   to   their    oars,    saw   the 

officer  sitting  in  the  stern-sheets,  heard  the  order 

'  Way  enough  "  as  the  boat  curved  round  to 

come  alongside. 

Then  the  master  hailed.  "We  are  two 
Britishers,  taken  prisoners  last  night,"  he 
bellowed. 

"  Jump  in,"  said  the  officer,  as  the  boat  drew 
abreast  of  the  tilted  deck  of  the  submarine. 

As  for  the  commanding  officer  of  the  submarine, 
he  was  no  more  seen.  He  was  first  on  the 
conning-tower  during  the  attack,  and  was  killed 
by  a  shell.  So  he  did  not  sink  thirty  ships  after  all. 


XXXIV 
STICKING   TO   IT 

THE  master  of  the  oil  tank-steamship  Pimm, 
having  been  on  the  bridge  for  many  hours,  was 
taking  what  he  called  a  cat-nap  in  the  chart- 
room,  lying  on  the  mattressed  seat,  his  head 
close  to  the  voice-tube  communicating  with 
the  bridge.  Through  his  sleep  there  penetrated 
into  his  consciousness  the  vision  of  a  small 
craft  sailing  off  the  starboard  beam  and  firing 
at  something.  The  master  sprang  bright  awake. 
It  was  the  chief  officer's  voice  speaking  from  the 
bridge,  and  in  a  moment  the  master  was  standing 
beside  him  ;  and  both  officers  surveyed  what 
appeared  to  be  a  fishing  boat  under  sail.  And 
yet  it  was  not  quite  like  a  fishing  boat.  There 
was  something  wrong  about  it — and  why  should 
a  fishing  coble  carry  a  gun  ? 

It  was  towards  seven  o'clock  of  a  calm,  hazy 
morning,  February  12th,  1917.  The  Pinna, 
carrying  nearly  8,000  tins  of  refined  petroleum, 
was  approaching  the  south-west  coast.  If  the 
strange  sail  was  a  submarine,  with  luck  and  pluck 
the  master  might  yet  win  port. 

The  master  ordered  the  helm  to  be  put  over 


•J2U 


STICKING  TO   IT  221 

to  bring  the  suspicious  sail  astern.  A  gun 
spoke  from  the  boat,  and  a  shell  struck  the 
starboard  bulwark  abaft  the  forecastle.  The 
master,  concluding  that  he  had  to  deal  with 
a  submarine,  ran  to  the  aft  steering-engine  and 
took  the  wheel. 

A  shell  missed  the  bridge  and  hit  the  main- 
mast, and  a  splinter  smashed  the  engine-room 
telegraph  on  the  bridge,  severing  communication 
with  the  engine-room.  A  shell  struck  the  poop  ; 
another  pierced  the  counter,  went  through  a 
bulkhead  and  hit  the  engine  stove. 

The  master,  keeping  the  submarine  astern, 
perceived  that  she  was  overhauling  him,  and 
hitting  the  ship  where  she  liked  at  short  range. 
He  stopped  engines  and  ordered  the  boats  away. 

While  the  men  were  embarking,  the  submarine, 
having  ceased  fire,  slid  up  abeam  on  the  port  side. 
When  the  crew  on  the  port  side  had  pulled  clear 
the  submarine  fired  a  torpedo,  striking  the  Pinna 
against  No.  2  tank,  and  the  crew  of  the  starboard 
boat,  lying  alongside  the  ship,  received  a  dis- 
agreeable shock.  The  master,  in  the  starboard 
boat,  pulled  round  the  stern  and  joined  the  port 
boat,  while  the  Pinna  slowly  listed  over  to  port. 

The  submarine  had  disappeared,  probably 
because  she  had  observed  the  approach  of  a 
patrol  boat. 

The  captain  of  the  patrol  boat  hailed  the 
master  of  the  Pinna,  offering  to  pick  up  the  crew. 
The  master,  although  his  ship  had  been  under  fire 
and  torpedo,  was  perfectly  composed  and  vigilant. 
He  told  the  captain  of  the  patrol  boat  to  leave 
himself  and  the  crew  in  the  boats,  and  suggested 


222     THE   MERCHANT   SEAMAN   IN  WAR 

that  the  captain  should  steam  swiftly  round  and 
round  the  Pinna,  while  the  master  tried  to  save  her. 

Then  the  master  called  for  volunteers.  With 
him,  on  board  the  injured  ship,  went  the  chief, 
second  and  third  engineers  and  a  fireman,  while 
the  patrol  boat  circled  round  her.  That  man- 
oeuvre was  some  protection ;  but  it  was  far  from 
complete ;  and  the  working  party  toiling  down 
below  in  the  engine-room  risked  being  torpedoed. 

They  found  enough  steam  still  in  the  boiler 
to  work  the  pumps,  and  began  to  pump  out  one 
of  the  tanks  in  order  to  lighten  the  ship  and  so 
get  her  on  an  even  keel.  After  about  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour  she  was  righted. 

The  captain  of  the  patrol  boat  arranged  to  take 
the  Pinna  in  tow  ;  a  hawser  was  carried  on  board 
by  the  people  of  the  Pinna  and  made  fast.  In 
the  meantime  another  patrol  vessel  had  come 
along,  and,  concluding  that  all  was  now  well, 
had  gone  away. 

The  crew  in  the  boats  of  the  Pinna  were  getting 
on  board,  when  the  master  suddenly  perceived  the 
periscope  of  the  submarine.  He  shouted  to  the 
captain  of  the  patrol  boat  to  recall  by  wireless  the 
second  patrol  boat.  But  it  was  too  late.  A  torpedo 
struck  the  ship  where  the  first  had  struck  her. 

But  the  master  was  undefeated.  He  stuck 
to  it  that  the  ship  would  not  and  should  not  sink. 
Nor  did  she.  They  worked  away  at  the  pumps  ; 
more  patrol  boats  came  up  ;  the  Pinna  was 
taken  in  tow ;  and  that  evening,  at  seven 
o'clock,  just  twelve  hours  after  she  was  torpedoed, 
she  was  safely  beached. 

The  Pinna  was  afterwards  floated  and  repaired. 


XXXV 

A   FISHING   TRIP 

You  know  the  steam  trawler — the  stout, 
broad-beamed  craft  with  deck-house  amidships, 
and  one  portly  funnel,  a  large  square  hatch 
covering  the  fish-hold,  and  a  dinghy  fixed  aft. 

The  grey-bearded  master  and  his  six  or  eight 
hands  are  seasoned,  like  their  vessel,  to  all 
weathers  ;  for  they  fish  the  North  Sea,  wet  or 
fine,  storm  or  calm,  summer  and  winter,  peace  or 
war. 

At  midnight  of  February  5th-6th,  1917,  the 
steam  trawler  Adelaide  was  some  thirty  miles  from 
a  north-country  port.  The  master  was  sleeping 
below,  when  he  was  roused  out  by  a  deck  hand 
who  told  him  that  a  submarine  was  firing  at 
the  Adelaide.  (There  used  to  be  an  impression 
that  in  an  abstract  theory,  called  international 
law,  fishing  craft  were  outside  warlike  opera- 
tions.) 

The  master,  going  on  deck,  saw  a  long,  grey 
shape  lying  on  the  water  in  the  brilliant  moon- 
light, a  little  way  off  on  the  starboard  quarter. 
The  master  ordered  the  boat  away.  The  sub- 


228 


224     THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

marine  fired  two  more  shots  while  the  men  were 
lowering  the  boat.  The  boat  pulled  clear.  The 
submarine  drew  alongside  the  boat,  and  the 
officer  on  the  conning-tower  peremptorily  ordered 
the  people  of  the  Adelaide  on  board. 

The  German  had  no  murderous  design.  He  was 
merely  in  need  of  a  few  little  things.  He  ordered 
two  of  the  Adelaide's  crew  to  return  on  board 
with  three  German  sailors.  The  Germans  carried 
with  them  the  bombs  without  which  they  seldom 
travel.  (No  doubt  in  future  vessels  will  be 
fitted  with  a  rack  to  hold  the  bombs  of  visitors.) 
On  board  the  Adelaide  the  Germans  deposited 
their  explosives  in  the  engine-room,  ordered  the 
British  seamen  to  open  the  condensers,  took  all 
the  spanners  they  could  find,  secured  the  stock 
of  provisions,  stole  the  flags,  ignited  the  fuses  of 
the  bombs  and  sheered  off. 

The  submarine  officer  ordered  the  crew  of  the 
Adelaide  into  their  boat.  "  They  had  just 
nicely  got  in,"  says  the  master,  "  when  there 
were  three  loud  explosions  on  the  said  ship  (the 
Adelaide)."  The  Germans  gave  to  the  master  a 
loaf  of  bread  (his  own).  One  loaf  among  nine 
men,  each  of  whom  is  accustomed  to  eat  a  loaf 
or  two  loaves  at  a  meal,  is  small  sustenance  for 
a  thirty  mile  pull. 

Then  the  submarine  went  away.  It  was 
about  a  quarter  to  four.  There  is  one  thing 
your  seaman  never  in  any  circumstances  forgets. 
He  always  notes  the  time.  Torpedoed,  under 
fire,  sinking,  in  the  water,  as  long  as  he  is  alive 
the  seaman  notes  the  time,  G.  M.  T.  And  when 
he  fetches  up  in  Port  of  Heaven  he  will  know 


A   FISHING   TRIP  225 

approximately  at  what  hour  and  so  many 
minutes  his  spirit  quitted  its  mortal  tenement. 

The  master  steered  by  the  moon  till  the  sun 
rose,  and  then  he  steered  by  the  sun.  The  crew 
rowed  for  eight  hours. 

The  conning-tower  of  a  submarine  rose  above 
the  surface,  and  the  crew  of  the  Adelaide  hung 
on  their  oars  in  a  deadly  suspense.  But  it  was 
a  British  officer  who  emerged  on  the  conning- 
tower,  and  a  British  voice  which  hailed  them  to 
come  to  breakfast. 

This  was  a  lucky  trip.  The  men  of  the  Adelaide 
lost  ship  and  gear.  Many  of  their  mates  have  lost 
life  and  limb  as  well. 


XXXVI 

TWICE   RUNNING 

THE  North  Atlantic  (that  arena  of  disaster),  a 
confused  swell,  noon  of  Tuesday,  March  6th, 
1917.  The  steamship  Fenay  Lodge  heading 
towards  France,  a  ring  of  haze,  about  ten  miles 
in  diameter,  closing  her  in. 

A  torpedo  struck  her  on  the  starboard  side ; 
the  master  ordered  the  crew  into  the  boats,  and 
away  they  went.  They  pulled  for  about  half 
an  hour,  the  water  breaking  over  them,  when, 
half-hidden  in  the  mist,  the  submarine  emerged 
into  view  and  opened  fire  on  the  deserted  ship. 
Presently  both  ship  and  submarine  were  lost  to 
sight. 

There  were  twenty-seven  persons  in  the  Fetmy 
Lodge,  all  British  except  one  Dutchman  and  one 
Russian.  In  two  boats  they  drifted  head  to  sea  in 
the  bitter  weather,  the  rest  of  that  day,  Tuesday, 
and  all  that  night,  and  the  morning  of  Wednesday. 
Then,  towards  noon,  they  sighted  a  steamship  ; 
pulled  towards  her,  making  signals  of  distress, 
and  were  taken  on  board.  She  was  a  French 
ship,  the  Ohio. 

The  castaways  had  scarce  shifted  into  dry 


TWICE  RUNNING  227 

clothing  and  eaten  and  drunk,  when  the  Ohio 
was  struck  by  a  torpedo.  She  went  down  in 
three  minutes.  No  other  details  are  available. 

Half  an  hour  after  the  people  of  the  Fenay 
Lodge  had  been  picked  up  they  were  again  adrift. 
But  five  of  them  had  been  drowned  in  the  sinking 
of  the  Ohio. 

The  three  boats,  containing  the  survivors  of 
the  Fenay  Lodge  and  the  Frenchmen,  drifted 
head  to  sea  in  the  bitter  weather  for  the  rest  of 
the  day.  About  six  in  the  evening  they  sighted 
a  steamer.  She  bore  down  upon  them.  She  was 
a  British  ship,  the  Winnebago,  and,  stopping 
alongside  the  tossing  boats,  the  master  offered  to 
take  them  on  board.  He  was  answered  by  so 
confused  a  shouting  in  French  and  English  that 
at  first  he  could  make  nothing  of  it.  But  presently 
he  understood  that  the  men  were  warning  him 
that  there  were  three  enemy  submarines  about, 
and  that  they  refused  to  be  taken  on  board. 

They  were  some  two  hundred  miles  from  land, 
and  they  refused  to  be  taken  on  board.  The 
master  of  the  Winnebago  had  done  all  he  could  ; 
if  the  castaways  thought  open  boats  preferable 
to  a  stout  ship,  it  was  their  affair,  and  he  went  on. 

The  men  of  the  Fenay  Lodge  and  the  men  of 
the  Ohio  drifted  head  to  sea  in  the  bitter  weather 
all  that  Wednesday  night,  and  all  Thursday 
morning.  At  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  a 
patrol  boat  ran  up  alongside  and  took  on  board 
twenty-two  men  of  the  Fenay  Lodge  and  five 
officers  and  twenty-seven  men  of  the  French 
ship  Ohio. 

Q  2 


XXXVII 
THE  FIGHT  OF  THE  "  ARACATACA  " 

THE  master,  on  the  bridge  of  the  Aracataca, 
did  not  hear  the  report  of  the  first  gun  fired, 
but  the  gunner,  standing  by  his  gun  aft,  marked 
the  splash  of  a  projectile  falling  close  by  the 
rudder.  Then  the  master  heard  a  distant 
detonation.  For  one  moment  he  could  see 
nothing ;  the  next,  a  shell  dived  into  the  sea 
on  the  port  bow.  Two  or  three  shells  struck  the 
ship,  and  still  there  was  no  submarine  in  sight. 
The  chief  steward  came  running  up  to  the  bridge 
to  report  that  a  man  whose  hand  had  been  blown 
off,  had  come  to  the  saloon,  and  that  several  other 
men  in  the  forecastle  were  dangerously  wounded. 

The  captain  knew  from  the  position  of  the 
arrival  of  the  projectiles  that  the  submarine  was 
astern.  Here  was  the  event  for  which  he  had 
been  diligently  rehearsing  officers  and  men. 

The  two  gunners  aft  received  the  signal  to 
return  the  fire,  as  soon  as  the  second  shell  came 
over,  together  with  directions  as  to  range,  and 
they  went  steadily  and  swiftly  to  work.  At  the 
same  time  up  went  the  red  ensign. 


22g 


THE  FIGHT  OF  THE  "  ARACATACA"    229 

All  the  ship's  officers,  except  the  engineers, 
came  to  the  bridge.  The  chief  officer  took  the 
wheel.  The  other  officers  carried  messages  and 
acted  as  requisite. 

The  section  of  the  crew  which  had  been 
trained  for  the  purpose,  went  to  their  stations, 
and  passed  up  ammunition. 

The  wireless  operator  sent  out  warnings,  but 
no  distress  signals,  because  the  master  "  did 
not  consider  himself  in  distress."  Answers  were 
immediately  received.  From  one  of  his  Majesty's 
ships  came  a  reply  saying  that  she  would 
arrive  in  half  an  hour.  The  two  vessels  continued 
to  talk  to  each  other  during  the  action. 

The  gunners  of  the  Aracataca  exchanged  shot 
for  shot  with  the  submarine.  As  each  shell  of 
the  enemy  came  over  the  master  noted  the 
position  of  the  splash,  and  altered  course  accord- 
ingly. 

The  firing  on  both  sides  was  rapid.  Amid  the 
regular  reports  of  the  guns,  the  smoke  and  crash 
of  bursting  shells,  a  rumour  ran  about  the  ship 
that  the  ammunition  locker  had  been  blown  up, 
and  the  cool  and  wary  master  observed  signs  of 
consternation  among  the  crew. 

The  master  went  below  and  spoke  to  the  men, 
telling  them  that  the  Aracataca  was  gaining  on 
the  submarine  and  that  help  would  arrive  inside 
half  an  hour.  The  men  turned  to  at  once.  Such 
is  the  value  of  leadership. 

Coming  on  deck,  the  master  called  together 
the  deck  hands,  rallied  them  with  a  few  hearty 
words,  and  asked  them  to  take  on  any  duty  that 
might  be  required  of  them.  The  men  responded 


230     THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

with  a  will.  Some  of  the  seamen  went  below  to 
do  the  work  of  those  firemen  and  trimmers  who 
had  been  injured. 

The  gunners,  one  of  whom  was  the  carpenter, 
a  volunteer,  were  sticking  to  their  gun,  and 
although  the  submarine  manoeuvred  to  place 
herself  dead  in  the  rays  of  the  sun,  the  Amcataca 
gunners  made  very  good  shooting,  perceptibly 
bewildering  the  submarine. 

The  action  hotly  continued,  in  a  brisk  breeze, 
a  choppy  and  sunlit  sea,  the  big  ship  swiftly 
mancBuvring,  belching  fire  from  her  stern  gun, 
beside  which  the  carpenter  stood  exposed  during 
the  fight,  the  conning-tower  of  the  submarine, 
astern  of  the  steamship,  gliding  steadily  on- 
wards, now  wreathed  in  smoke,  now  glittering 
in  the  sun. 

And  all  the  time  the  chief  steward,  below,  was 
doing  the  grisly  work  of  a  surgeon.  The  wounded 
men  were  brought  from  the  forecastle  and  laid 
on  the  table  of  the  saloon.  With  his  mates,  the 
chief  steward  improvised  dressings  and  tour- 
niquets. When  he  had  done  he  reported  to  the 
master,  (1)  that  the  cases  were  very  serious, 
(2)  that  his  stock  of  medical  appliances  was 
very  limited,  (3)  that  he  had  stopped  all  bleeding. 

One  man,  a  fireman,  lay  dead  in  the  forecastle. 
He  had  been  killed  instantaneously.  His  body 
was  taken  from  the  forecastle  and  laid  in  a  place 
by  itself.  Thus  all  was  done  decently  and  in 
order. 

The  action  began  at  one  o'clock.  At  some 
time  during  the  first  half-hour  a  shell  pierced 
the  funnel,  entered  the  deck-house  and  burst  in 


THE  FIGHT  OF  THE  "  ARACATACA"     231 

the  galley,  and  another  shell  sang  between  the 
master  and  the  chief  officer  and  smashed  the 
fore  part  of  the  bridge  on  which  they  were 
standing,  and,  bursting,  scattered  shrapnel. 

But  presently  the  fire  of  the  enemy  became 
less  frequent  and  the  shells  went  wide.  The 
submarine  was  receiving  better  than  she  sent. 
At  the  end  of  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  the 
master,  watching  the  fall  of  the  shells  from  the 
Aracataca's  gun,  saw  the  conning-tower  vanish 
in  a  smother  of  smoke  and  spray.  When  it 
blew  away  the  submarine  was  lying  motionless 
athwart  her  course,  and  her  gun  was  silent. 
The  Aracataca  had  beaten  her. 

Four  minutes  later  a  British  vessel  of  war 
hove  in  sight,  and  promptly  steered  to  place 
herself  between  the  submarine  and  the  steamship. 

But  the  submarine  was  done.  The  Aracataca 
saw  her  no  more,  and  came  safely  into  port.  The 
master  reported  that  the  crew  behaved  to  the 
master's  "  entire  satisfaction,"  and  especially 
commended  the  services  of  the  chief  steward, 
who  saved  the  lives  of  the  wounded  men,  and 
whose  amateur  surgery  was  so  good  that  the 
doctors  who  treated  the  men  in  port  affirmed  that 
it  was  as  well  done  "  as  any  man  could  do  it." 
The  master  also  especially  commended  the  two 
gunners,  of  whom  one  was  the  carpenter,  "  the 
latter  taking  a  prominent  position  at  the  gun 
throughout  the  whole  action  in  a  most  exposed 
position,  being  entirely  voluntary." 

As  for  the  master  himself,  his  skilled  organisa- 
tion, composure,  resource  and  courage  won  him 
one  of  the  most  notable  fights  of  the  British 


232     THE   MERCHANT  SEAMAN   IN   WAR 

merchant  service.     It  was  fought  on  March  10th, 
1917. 

The  German  beast  of  prey  was  outfought  and 
outmanoeuvred  from  the  beginning,  although  he 
struck  first  and  murderously.  The  master 
of  the  Aracataca  had  defeated  the  submarine 
ere  the  ship  of  war  arrived. 


XXXVIII 
THE   BLACKGUAED. 

THE  events  of  March  27th,  1917,  are,  like  the 
night  that  covered  them,  darkly  clear,  with  here 
and  there  significant  and  daunting  glimpses 
opening  between  great  spaces  of  blackness  and 
again  obscured.  And  those  glimpses  are  the 
reflection  of  a  reflection  in  the  mind's  mirror  of 
two  men. 

One  was  the  gunner  of  the  steamship  Thracia, 
a  private  of  the  Royal  Marines.  The  time  was 
between  eight  and  nine  o'clock  at  night ;  the 
ship  was  in  the  Channel,  bound  to  a  home  port ; 
the  gunner  was  on  duty,  stationed  at  his  gun  on 
the  poop.  He  heard  a  sharp  detonation,  which 
(he  said)  sounded  like  the  crack  of  a  pistol  fired 
somewhere  forward.  A  column  of  water  mingled 
with  black  smoke  shot  up  forward  of  the  bridge 
to  starboard.  Four  short  blasts  sounded  on  the 
syren,  signifying  "  Abandon  ship."  The  gunner 
ran  forward,  mingling  with  a  crowd  of  hurrying 
figures  in  the  dark,  felt  the  ship  sinking  down- 
wards towards  the  bows  beneath  his  feet  as  he 
ran,  and  understood  that  she  would  go  down  ere 
the  boats  could  be  lowered.  He  turned  and  ran 

233 


234     THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

back  to  the  gun  to  fetch  his  lifebelt,  slung  it 
on,  climbed  on  the  rail  to  dive,  "  and  before  he 
knew  exactly  what  had  happened  he  found 
himself  in  the  sea."  Events,  as  they  do  on  these 
occasions,  succeeded  one  another  more  swiftly 
than  consciousness  could  register. 

The  gunner  was  drawn  deep  down  in  the  icy 
water,  came  up  again,  and  struck  out,  shouting 
for  help  with  all  his  strength.  He  swam  and 
shouted  during  what,  with  a  seaman's  particu- 
larity, he  estimated  to  be  a  period  of  twenty 
minutes,  rising  and  falling  with  the  lop  of  sea, 
fighting  for  his  life,  and  then  there  came  answering 
calls,  a  boat  loomed  above  him,  and  he  was 
hauled  on  board.  She  had  been  lowered  from  a 
neutral  steamer,  which  afterwards  landed  the 
sturdy  Marine  at  an  English  port.  He  thought 
at  first  he  was  the  sole  survivor  of  the  Thracia. 

When  the  gunner  on  deck  heard  a  detonation 
like  the  report  of  a  pistol,  the  acting  fourth 
officer,  a  boy  of  fifteen,  who  was  just  getting  into 
his  bunk  below,  felt  a  shock  as  of  "  a  small  explo- 
sion about  the  main  bunker."  As  he  ran  up  on 
deck  in  his  shirt,  the  syren  blew  the  signal  "Aban- 
don ship."  The  next  thing  the  boy  knew,  he 
was  being  drawn  down  with  the  sinking  vessel. 

Struggling  to  the  surface,  he  saw  a  capsized 
boat,  swam  to  it,  and  found  it  was  part  of  the 
starboard  lifeboat,  of  which  the  stern  had  been 
blown  off.  The  fourth  officer  climbed  in  the 
boat  and  lashed  himself  to  it.  Other  men  swam 
to  the  boat  and  hung  on.  The  fourth  officer 
counted  seven.  He  made  out  that  two  among 
them  were  badly  hurt.  The  other  men  could 


THE   BLACKGUARD  285 

give  them  no  help,  and  the  two  wounded  men 
were  washed  away  and  drowned.  The  rest  hung 
on  for  a  while.  Then  the  black  hulk  of  a  steamer 
loomed  about  a  mile  distant,  and  three  of  the 
men  resolved  to  swim  to  her.  They  dropped  off 
and  started.  Five  minutes  afterwards  the 
steamer  vanished.  The  three  men  were  never 
seen  again. 

At  this  point,  the  fourth  officer,  drenched  by 
the  sea  and  stabbed  by  the  sword  of  the  frozen 
wind,  became  partially  unconscious.  When  he 
revived  a  little  the  two  remaining  men  of  the 
seven  were  gone. 

What  woke  the  lad  to  some  perception  was  the 
sound  of  a  voice,  calling  in  English.  He  saw  a 
long,  dark  shape  heaving  to  leeward,  and  under- 
stood that  it  was  a  German  submarine,  aiid  that 
a  German  officer  was  asking  him  questions. 

The  German  asked  what  ship  he  had  sunk, 
whence  she  came,  whither  she  was  bound,  and 
what  was  her  cargo.  The  fourth  officer  gave 
the  information. 

"  Are  you  an  Englishman  ?  "  asked  the 
German  officer. 

The  boy  replied  that  he  was. 

"Then,"  said  the  German,  "I  shall  shoot 
you." 

"  Shoot  away,"  said  the  fourth  officer. 

So  disrespectful  an  answer  naturally  hurt 
the  sensitive  German. 

"  I  shall  not  waste  powder  on  a  pig  of  an 
Englishman,"  was  the  German  officer's  majestic 
retort. 

At  this  point,  the  German  seems  to  have  per- 


236     THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

mitted  a  just  indignation  to  overcome  his 
natural  delicacy  of  feeling. 

"  Drown,  you  swine,  drown !  "  he  shouted, 
and  sheered  off. 

The  officer  of  his  Imperial  Majesty's  Navy  in 
command  of  the  submarine  left  the  child  adrift 
on  his  bit  of  wreckage.  There  the  boy  drifted, 
lashed,  helpless  and  to  all  appearance  dead,  all 
that  night.  The  sun  rose  on  that  spectacle  in 
the  bitter  March  morning,  and  still  the  boy 
tossed  and  tumbled  in  the  breaking  sea. 

There,  at  half-past  ten  (the  fourth  officer  of 
course  marks  the  time,  though  he  was  very 
nearly  dead),  a  fishing  boat  espied  the  castaway, 
bore  down  and  took  him  on  board.  He  had 
been  more  than  thirteen  hours  in  the  water. 

Of  thirty-eight  persons,  these  two  were  saved  : 
the  gunner  and  the  acting  fourth  officer,  aged 
fifteen  and  a  half  years. 

The  sea,  as  we  know,  is  blind  and  pitiless  ;  but 
the  sea  spared  the  lad  who  defied  the  German. 
If  that  chivalrous  officer  still  defiles  the  sea,  or 
befouls  the  land,  he  may  reflect  that  he  was 
silly  to  give  way  to  temper,  after  all ;  because 
if  there  was  one  thing  which  would  make  that 
boy  resolve  to  live,  it  was  the  German's  order 
that  he  should  drown.  The  German  officer 
should  have  shot  the  fourth  officer,  as  the  child 
suggested,  instead  of  being  piqued  and  haughtily 
refusing  that  simple  request.  He  seems  to  have 
lacked  a  sense  of  humour.  "  We  are  a  serious 
nation,"  a  German  naval  officer  once  said  to  the 
present  writer. 


XXXIX 

SETTLING   THE   SCORE 

WHEN  the  master  of  the  Palm  Branch  had 
his  first  dispute  with  the  enemy,  his  ship  was  an 
unarmed  target,  and  so  he  must  trust  to  his  skill 
in  retreat.  In  the  second  affair  it  was  not  so. 

On  November  21st,  1916,  in  grey  autumn 
weather,  the  Palm  Branch  was  off  the  coast  of 
France.  At  a  little  before  two  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  the  master,  who  was  on  the  bridge, 
saw  the  conning-tower  of  a  submarine  rise  out 
of  the  sea  within  forty  yards  of  his  port  quarter. 
As  soon  as  the  submarine  was  awash,  men  swiftly 
put  together  a  gun  aft  of  the  conning-tower. 

It  was  an  emergency  for  which  the  master  had 
been  looking  for  two  years.  While  the  Germans 
were  fitting  the  gun,  the  master  of  the  Palm  Branch 
put  his  helm  over  to  get  the  submarine  right 
astern,  and  ordered  full  speed  ahead.  The  chief 
engineer  himself  went  down  to  the  stokehold  to 
encourage  the  firemen  during  the  trouble. 

It  began  five  minutes  after  the  submarine 
had  emerged.  She  opened  fire.  The  first  few 

287 


238     THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

shells  missed  the  ship.  Then  they  began  to  hit 
her.  The  submarine,  manoeuvring  to  get  a 
broadside  aim,  was  continually  defeated  in  her 
design  by  the  master  of  the  Palm  Branch,  who 
swung  his  ship  to  keep  the  enemy  astern.  The 
submarine  continued  to  fire  with  explosive  and 
shrapnel  shells. 

The  rest  of  the  officers  were  each  at  the  instant 
disposal  of  the  master.  Beside  him  the  apprentice 
was  at  the  wheel. 

Under  that  steady  fire  at  short  range  the  stern 
of  the  ship  was  damaged,  and  the  quarters  of 
the  crew  aft  were  knocked  to  pieces ;  the 
port  lifeboat  was  shot  away ;  the  starboard 
lifeboat  had  a  hole  through  it.  The  bridge  was 
hit  and  a  seaman  was  wounded.  At  the  same 
time  the  apprentice  was  struck  on  the  head  by 
a  splinter.  He  stuck  to  the  wheel,  blood  running 
down  his  face. 

Shells  entered  the  forecastle,  wrecked  the 
men's  bunks,  and  a  fire  broke  out.  The  chief 
officer  instantly  called  a  working  party  to  extin- 
guish the  fire,  and  checked  the  alarm  of  the 
deck  hands,  who  heartily  responded  to  his  appeal. 

After  half  an  hour  of  this  work,  the  submarine, 
which  had  been  kept  right  astern  of  the  Palm 
Branch,  and  which  did  not  pursue  her,  ceased 
fire  and  went  away  to  attack  a  fleet  of  fishing 
boats,  easier  game. 

Thus  did  the  master  save  a  valuable  ship  for 
his  King  and  country.  The  Palm  Branch  ran 
into  a  French  port  to  repair  damages. 

Thence  she  proceeded  upon  her  voyage  ;  and 
upon  her  arrival  in  an  American  port,  aroused 


SETTLING  THE   SCORE  239 

some  little  excitement  in  America,  because  here 
was  a  ship  which  had  been  under  fire  and  which 
had  escaped. 

The  master  of  the  Palm  Branch  continued  upon 
his  lawful  occasions,  and  a  paternal  Government 
gave  him  a  gun  to  play  with. 

Some  five  months  after  his  encounter  with 
the  German,  the  master  of  the  Palm  Branch 
brought  her  into  the  White  Sea.  The  afternoon 
of  May  4th,  1917,  fell  fine,  with  a  light  breeze 
and  a  smooth  sea.  At  a  little  before  four  o'clock, 
the  master  on  the  bridge  saw  the  periscope  of  a 
submarine  rise  above  the  glassy  surface  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  ship,  on  the  port 
beam. 

The  gunner,  stationed  aft  at  his  gun,  saw  the 
track  of  a  torpedo  whitening  towards  the  ship. 
The  torpedo  passed  astern  of  the  Palm  Branch, 
missing  her  by  about  eight  feet. 

At  the  same  time  the  conning-tower  of  the 
submarine  began  to  rise,  and  the  gunner  of  the 
Palm  Branch  fired.  The  shell  struck  the  conning- 
tower.  The  gunner's  second  shot  pierced  the 
hull  of  the  submarine,  which  sank. 

As  she  sank,  a  shell  fired  at  long  range  came 
over  the  Palm  Branch.  It  came  from  a  second 
submarine.  The  master  ordered  full  speed  and 
steered  a  zig-zag  course,  while  the  two  gunners 
kept  a  steady  fire  upon  the  submarine. 

All  the  crew  were  at  their  stations ;  the 
officers  were  at  the  disposal  of  the  master  ;  his 
organisation  worked  perfectly.  So  accurate  was 
the  shooting  of  the  Palm  Branch  that  the  sub- 
marine dropped  further  astern,  lengthening  the 


240    THE   MERCHANT   SEAMAN  IN   WAR 

range  from  4,000  to  7,500  yards.  She  was  firing 
continuously  from  two  guns. 

Bewildered  and  hampered  by  the  fire  of  the 
Palm  Branchy  the  submarine  fired  about  eighty 
rounds  in  the  space  of  something  under  an  hour  ; 
she  did  not  touch  the  Palm  Branch  once. 

Presently  the  gunner  of  the  Palm  Branch 
placed  a  shell  on  the  after  gun  of  the  submarine, 
knocking  it  to  pieces.  Then  some  British  trawlers 
appeared,  steaming  at  full  speed  and  converging 
on  the  submarine.  The  submarine  ceased  fire. 
She  was  done,  fairly  beaten  by  gun  fire  ;  and 
the  last  the  Palm  Branch  saw  of  her,  she  was 
lying  like  a  log  on  the  water.  So  the  master  of 
the  Palm  Branch  was  quits  with  the  enemy. 

The  Admiralty  stated  that  they  considered 
his  achievement  due  to  the  excellent  discipline 
and  preparation  for  defence  which  he  habitually 
maintained  in  the  Palm  Branch. 


XL 
THE   KAFT 

THE  story  of  the  Serapis  is  a  short  story, 
because,  like  many  another  of  these  cruel  records, 
it  includes  spaces  of  time  concerning  whose  events 
no  more  than  a  suggestion  is  practicable.  Men 
who  for  days  and  nights  have  been  burning  and 
freezing  in  open  boats,  sick  with  hunger  and 
tormented  by  thirst,  seldom  describe  their  sensa- 
tions. They  happily  forget  them,  or  they  are 
brought  to  so  low  a  level  of  consciousness  that 
all  is  merged  in  dull  suffering ;  or,  for  the  sake 
of  their  own  peace  of  mind,  they  refuse  to  peer 
into  the  glass  of  memory.  .  .  . 

The  Serapis  had  brought  the  crew  of  a  tor- 
pedoed ship  into  port,  so  that  when  she  sailed 
again  every  man  on  board  owned  a  vivid  notion 
of  what  might  happen  to  himself.  But  it  did 
not  occur  to  anyone  to  desert  on  that  account. 

The  Serapis  was  one  day  out.  At  about  six 
o'clock  on  Tuesday,  June  26th,  1917,  when  she 
was  midmost  of  the  Irish  Sea,  a  torpedo  struck 
her  on  the  starboard  side  and  exploded  between 
the  engine-room  and  the  hold.  Instantly  she 


B 


242     THE   MERCHANT   SEAMAN   IN   WAR 

heeled  over  on  her  beam  ends,  and  the  men 
who  had  rushed  to  get  away  the  port  lifeboat 
were  flung  into  the  water.  Then  the  Serapis 
sank  bodily.  A  minute  elapsed  between  the 
explosion  of  the  torpedo  and  the  total  dis- 
appearance of  the  ship. 

The  long  swell  was  strewn  with  swimming  men 
and  wreckage,  men  clinging  to  planks  and  pieces 
of  the  ship,  men  drowning,  broken  fragments 
which  had  been  men,  and  men  dead. 

Then  uprose  from  the  depths  the  German 
submarine,  and  her  commanding  officer  surveyed 
his  work  from  the  conning-tower,  and  found  it 
to  his  mind.  He  hailed  the  drowning  men, 
demanding  the  captain  and  the  chief  officer ; 
and  when  these  had  replied,  he  brought  the 
submarine  alongside  the  captain  and  ordered 
his  men  to  haul  him  on  board.  He  sent  the 
captain  below,  picked  up  the  chief  officer,  and 
sent  him  below  also. 

Then  the  German  officer  went  away  and  left 
all  the  rest  of  the  people  of  the  Serapis  to  drown. 

A  steamer  was  visible  on  the  horizon,  and  the 
submarine  steered  towards  her. 

The  second  officer  beheld  all  these  things,  and 
perceived  that  the  command  now  devolved  upon 
himself.  He  set  about  to  save  life.  Swimming 
on  his  plank,  he  collected  more  pieces  of  wreckage, 
and  with  pieces  of  rigging  made  shift  to  bind 
them  together  into  a  raft.  Four  men  besides 
himself  huddled  on  the  raft.  A  little  way  off 
three  men  were  sitting  on  another  assemblage 
of  wreckwood,  and  the  two  rafts  drifted  slowly 
away  in  company.  They  left  a  few  of  the  crew 


THE   RAFT  243 

clinging  to  spar  and  locker.  The  rest  had  gone 
down. 

All  that  night  the  second  officer  and  the  four 
men  drifted  on  the  swell.  Here  is  one  of  those 
spaces  of  time  of  which  the  record  is  a  sinister 
blank.  Let  who  will  imagine  the  plight  of  men 
insecurely  riding  a  bulk  of  sodden  timber  in 
mid-sea,  continually  beaten  upon  by  the  breaking 
water,  through  the  infinitely  long  hours  of  the 
night. 

When  the  sun  rose  its  first  rays  gleamed  upon 
the  second  officer's  raft,  alone. 

The  raft  capsized,  throwing  the  five  castaways 
into  the  water.  Paralysed  by  the  cold  of  the 
night,  three  men  sank  and  were  drowned.  The 
second  officer  and  one  man  climbed  desperately 
back  upon  the  raft. 

As  the  sun  rose  higher  the  seaman  began  to 
babble  and  to  shout,  his  voice  continuing  amid 
the  vast  silence  of  the  sea  in  the  high  monotone 
of  the  delirious.  By  degrees  he  fell  to  moaning. 
Presently  he  was  silent.  The  second  officer  was 
now  alone  with  the  dead  man. 

And  here  is  another  blank  space  of  time. 

Whether  or  not  the  second  officer  perceived 
the  submarine  approaching  him  he  does  not 
record.  All  he  says  is  that  at  three  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  he  was  picked  up  by  a  British 
submarine. 


R  2 


XLI 
THE    FLYING  DEATH 

ON  May  20th,  1917,  a  thick  haze  covered  the 
waters  off  the  East  Coast,  and  a  steamship  lay 
at  anchor  waiting  for  light.  At  a  little  after 
one  the  fog  lifted,  and  hung  like  a  filmy  roof 
over  the  sea.  The  master  of  the  Birchgrove 
weighed  anchor  and  went  on  his  way. 

He  heard  the  drone  of  aircraft  engines  ;  and 
presently  sighted  two  aeroplanes  flying  fast 
and  low,  sweeping  out  of  the  haze  directly  towards 
his  ship. 

The  next  moment  there  came  the  chatter  of 
machine-guns,  and  bullets  spattered  about  the 
bridge.  The  master  saw  a  strange  dark  object 
flying  downwards,  and  an  aerial  torpedo  plunged 
into  the  sea  alongside  and  dived  under  the  ship 
without  touching  her.  The  master  put  the 
helm  over,  and  so  swiftly  altered  course.  He  was 
just  in  time,  for  a  second  torpedo,  fired  at 
200  yards,  passed  within  ten  feet  of  the  stern. 

The  master  marked  the  black  crosses  painted 
on  the  underside  of  the  planes,  ran  up  the  red 
ensign,  ordered  the  crew  below,  ordered  the 


244 


THE   FLYING  DEATH  245 

gun's  crew  to  open  fire.  The  two  seaplanes  had 
continued  machine-gun  fire  from  the  first  shot, 
and  the  bullets  continued  to  whistle  all  about 
the  bridge. 

The  pilot  remained  on  the  bridge  with  the 
master,  the  two  gunners  served  their  gun  astern. 
No  one  else  was  on  deck.  Below,  the  firemen 
were  shovelling  coal  for  their  lives. 

The  master,  staring  upwards,  saw  the  great 
birds  gliding  above,  each  ridden  by  a  hooded 
figure,  each  spurting  flame. 

The  gunner  of  the  Birchgrove,  cool  and  un- 
hurried, trained  his  gun  with  care.  At  his  first 
shot  the  two  seaplanes  turned  about,  and  rising, 
steered  eastward,  whence  they  had  come.  The 
gunner  of  the  Birchgrove  fired  again  and  again, 
his  third  shot  either  hitting  the  enemy  or  going 
just  over  him.  Another  shot,  and  the  two  sea- 
planes were  out  of  sight,  and  in  a  little  while  the 
drone  of  their  flight  died  away. 

The  discipline  and  organisation  of  the  master 
and  the  steady  marksmanship  of  the  gunners 
saved  the  Birchgrove.  They  also  saved  three 
defenceless  foreign  vessels  which  were  steaming 
within  range  of  the  seaplanes. 


XLII 
BKETHEEN  OF  THE  SHARK 

VERY  early  on  Sunday  morning,  July  15th, 
1917,  the  steamship  Mansion,  homeward  bound 
in  the  North  Atlantic,  was  within  about  a 
hundred  miles  of  land.  The  evidence  of  the 
manner  of  her  loss  and  the  sequel  is  the  deposi- 
tion of  the  only  survivor,  who  was  the  cook. 

When  the  torpedo  struck  the  ship  the  cook 
was  asleep  in  his  bunk,  in  the  house  on  the  main 
deck.  He  was  awakened  by  being  hurled 
upwards  against  the  ceiling,  with  the  crash  of 
an  explosion  in  his  ears.  The  mess-room  steward, 
who  was  asleep  in  the  bunk  below  the  cook, 
continued  to  slumber,  nor  did  he  wake  when  the 
cook  shook  him.  Already  the  water  was  surging 
about  the  cook's  ankles,  and  dripping  through 
the  seams  of  the  deck  above  ;  and  the  cook  ran 
out  upon  the  main  deck,  which  was  awash.  He 
seems  to  remember  seeing  the  apprentice  following 
him  as  he  doubled  to  the  midship  cabin  to  rouse 
the  steward.  He  never  reached  the  steward, 
because  a  second  explosion,  catching  him  on  the 
way,  blew  the  midship  cabin  to  pieces. 

Amid  the  tumult,  the  black  smoke  and  the 


J46 


BRETHREN   OF   THE  SHARK         247 

pieces  of  the  ship  falling  about  his  ears,  the 
cook,  as  he  ran  aft,  was  aware  of  the  chief 
gunner.  The  ship  was  sinking  rapidly ;  the 
main  deck  was  level  with  the  breaking  sea,  and 
the  cook  caught  up  a  hatch  and  plunged  over- 
board, followed  by  the  chief  gunner.  Both  men 
clung  to  the  hatch  ;  the  ship  went  down  bodily, 
stern  first ;  and  there  came  a  mighty  rush  of 
water.  When  it  had  passed  the  cook  was  alone 
on  his  hatch.  He  never  saw  the  gunner  again. 

In  the  colourless  light  of  an  overcast  sunrise 
the  cook  beheld  the  long,  confused  rollers 
strewn  with  wreckage,  and  counted  seventeen 
men  clinging  to  the  pieces  of  the  ship. 

Then  up  from  the  troubled  waters  projected 
two  periscopes,  like  two  horns,  then  the  two 
conning-towers  of  the  submarine,  and  then  her 
long  hull,  shiny  and  black  as  coal,  hove  dripping 
upon  the  swell.  To  the  cook  she  loomed  as 
great  as  the  five-thousand-ton  ship  she  had  just 
sent  to  the  bottom.  All  along  her  side,  revealed 
in  curves  of  the  moving  sea,  waved  festoons  of 
green  weed  and  slimy  barnacles.  She  carried 
a  gun  forward  and  a  gun  aft. 

The  hatch  on  the  conning-tower  lifted,  and 
there  emerged  a  German  officer.  The  men  in 
the  water  were  crying  and  shouting  for  help. 
The  German  officer  surveyed  the  field  of  destruc- 
tion through  his  glasses.  Presently  he  dropped 
them,  leisurely  disappeared  down  the  hatch, 
which  shut,  and  the  submarine  began  to  sink. 
She  settled  steadily  down,  amid  the  cries  of  rage 
of  the  drowning  men,  until  the  periscopes  alone 
were  visible.  Then  they  glided  away,  cutting 


248    THE   MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

through  the  seas,  each  square,  hooded  pole 
flirting  a  feather  of  foam.  .  .  . 

The  cook,  tossing  on  his  little  raft,  kept 
counting  the  men  in  sight ;  and  every  time  he 
counted  he  made  the  total  less.  Then  he  heard 
a  man  scream,  and  saw  him  throw  up  his  hands  ; 
and  he  saw  the  black  fin  of  a  shark  cleaving  the 
lop  of  sea,  and  the  flash  of  white  as  the  great 
fish  turned  over  to  snatch  its  prey.  The  cook  saw 
(he  says)  "  a  crowd  of  sharks,"  and  heard  man 
after  man  screaming  as  he  was  dragged  under. 

That  is  all  he  says.  It  is  perhaps  adequate. 
A  theory  may  here  be  hazarded  that  the  sharks 
follow  the  submarines.  .  .  .  They  could  make 
their  profit  of  the  voyage. 

As  the  sun  rose,  the  wind  and  the  sea  went 
down  on  that  desolation ;  and  still  the  cook 
tossed  on  his  hatch,  until  he  was  the  last  alive. 
He  thinks  it  was  about  ten  o'clock  when  he 
found  himself  utterly  alone,  except  for  the 
sharks.  By  that  time  he  had  been  some  six 
hours  in  the  water. 

At  about  five  o'clock  that  evening,  the  master 
of  a  British  steamship  sighted  a  space  of  sea 
dotted  all  over  with  drifting  wreckage.  He 
steered  towards  it,  and  passed  through  a  field 
of  floating  timbers  and  fittings  and  packing- 
cases  ;  and  on  its  further  fringe  he  espied  the 
figure  of  a  man  floating  on  a  hatch. 

It  was  half-past  six  when  the  cook  was  hauled 
into  the  steamer's  boat  and  brought  aboard,  and 
revived  and  comforted.  So  he  lived  to  tell 
his  tale,  alone  of  all  the  people  in  the  Mariston, 


XLIII 

THE  CASE  OF  THE  "  BELGIAN  PRINCE  " 

FORTY-THREE  seamen  of  the  steamship  Belgian 
Prince  were  crowded  on  the  deck  of  a  German 
submarine,  in  the  steely  twilight  of  a  summer 
night,  and  one,  the  master,  was  below,  a  prisoner. 
The  submarine  was  running  awash.  Astern,  the 
abandoned  ship  loomed  momently  more  dim. 
In  the  minds  of  every  one  of  those  forty-three 
seamen  there  dwelt  a  terrible  apprehension. 

The  attack  on  the  Belgian  Prince  followed  the 
usual  routine.  She  was  struck,  without  warning, 
by  a  torpedo.  It  was  then  about  eight  o'clock 
on  the  evening  of  July  31st,  1917,  and  the  ship 
was  two  hundred  miles  from  the  north  coast  of 
Ireland.  The  master  called  away  the  boats, 
and  the  crew  embarked,  leaving  the  master  on 
board  to  clear  up  his  affairs.  The  port  lifeboat 
put  back  and  took  him  off.  The  German  sub- 
marine emerged  and  opened  fire  from  her  machine- 
gun  upon  the  ship's  aerials,  which  she  destroyed. 
Then  the  commanding  officer  of  the  submarine 
ordered  the  two  boats  alongside,  took  the  master 
on  board,  and  sent  him  below,  ordering  all  the 


249 


250    THE   MERCHANT   SEAMAN  IN   WAR 

crew  on  board.  They  were  received  with  furious 
abuse  by  the  Germans,  who  searched  their 
captives,  taking  from  them  all  their  possessions. 
Money  and  other  articles  of  value  the  pirates 
pocketed ;  other  things  they  hove  overboard. 
In  the  meantime  a  working  party  took  everything 
out  of  the  boats.  The  compasses  and  provisions 
were  put  into  the  submarine.  Oars,  gratings, 
bailers  and  all  loose  gear  were  thrown  overboard. 
The  two  lifeboats  were  damaged  by  axes.  The 
plugs  were  removed,  and  they  were  left  to  sink. 
The  master's  dinghy  was  retained.  Several 
Germans  pulled  her  over  to  the  ship,  in  which 
they  remained. 

These  things  the  crew  of  the  Belgian  Prince 
beheld,  contemplating,  while  they  were  being 
violently  robbed,  the  destruction  of  their  last 
hope  of  escape. 

The  commanding  officer  of  the  submarine,  a 
fair,  bearded  man  of  thirty-five  or  so,  ordered 
the  seamen  to  take  off  their  lifebelts  and  place 
them  on  the  deck.  Then  he  strode  along  the 
deck,  among  the  men,  whom  he  cursed,  kicking 
the  lifebelts  overboard.  But  four  men  at  least 
contrived  to  hide  their  lifebelts  under  their 
coats. 

From  the  Belgian  Prince,  in  which  were  the 
Germans  who  had  gone  to  her  in  the  dinghy,  a 
signal  flashed.  The  submarine  got  under  way ; 
the  captives,  as  already  described,  were  crowded 
on  her  deck,  as  her  engines  slowly  ground  her 
through  the  water.  So,  for  about  half  an  hour. 

Then  there  came  another  signal  flashed  from 
the  place  where  the  ship  lay  shrouded  in  the 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  "BELGIAN  PRINCE  "  251 

thickening  dark.  Instantly  the  German  officer 
on  the  conning-tower  disappeared,  and  the  steel 
hatch  clanged  to  over  his  head. 

The  submarine  began  to  sink. 

The  doubt  haunting  the  forty-three  seamen 
suddenly  took  shape  in  a  certainty,  the  certainty 
of  death.  The  water  lipped  upon  the  deck, 
the  water  covered  their  feet.  Then  they  leaped 
into  the  sea. 

The  chief  engineer,  the  cook,  a  Russian  seaman 
and  the  little  apprentice,  who  had  contrived  to 
keep  their  lifebelts,  struck  out  for  the  distant 
ship.  The  little  apprentice  held  on  to  the  chief 
engineer.  The  cook  and  the  Russian  were 
separated  from  the  chief  engineer  and  the 
apprentice,  and  from  each  other,  though  all  were 
steering  for  where  they  thought  the  ship  lay. 
The  thirty-nine  men  they  left  were  never  seen 
again. 

The  chief  engineer,  holding  up  the  apprentice, 
swam  steadily  on,  resting  at  intervals.  The  boy 
grew  heavier  and  heavier,  his  strokes  weaker  and 
weaker,  and  by  the  time  the  grey  dawn  lightened 
the  desolate  sea,  he  was  unconscious.  The  ice- 
cold  water  killed  him.  The  chief  engineer  went 
on  alone. 

He  saw  the  Belgian  Prince,  listing  over  to 
port,  when,  as  he  reckoned,  he  was  still  a  mile 
and  a  half  away  from  her.  It  was  then  about 
half -past  five  on  the  morning  of  August  1st, 
1917.  The  chief  engineer  saw  a  bright  flame  leap 
from  the  after  part  of  the  ship,  saw  her  go  down 
stern  first. 

The   chief   engineer,   who   makes   no  remark 


252     THE   MERCHANT   SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

concerning  his  emotions  at  that  moment,  con- 
tinued to  swim  ;  and  presently  he  saw  smoke  on 
the  horizon,  and  swam  desperately  towards  it. 
A  little  after,  he  was  picked  up  by  a  patrol  boat. 

The  cook,  following  his  own  course,  also  came 
in  sight  of  the  Belgian  Prince  about  the  same  time 
as  the  chief  engineer  sighted  her.  He  also  saw 
the  ship  sink  ;  and  then  he  perceived  the  sub- 
marine, and  swam  away.  He  was  picked  up  by 
the  patrol  boat. 

The  Russian  seaman  swam  faster  than  the 
other  two  men,  and  actually  reached  the  Belgian 
Prince  at  about  five  o'clock,  after  about  eight 
hours  in  the  water.  For  the  moment,  at  least, 
he  was  saved  ;  but  he  was  still  haunted  by  a 
doubt.  Numbed  and  exhausted,  he  struggled 
on  board,  shifted  into  dry  clothing,  and  ate  and 
drank.  And  then  he  saw  the  submarine  again. 
She  was  coming  alongside. 

The  Russian  ran  aft.  and  hiding  himself, 
watched  the  submarine  stop  and  lie  alongside, 
saw  three  or  four  Germans  climb  on  board.  There 
was  nothing  else  for  it — the  Russian  lowered 
himself  into  the  water  again,  and  hung  on  beside 
the  rudder.  For  all  he  knew  the  Germans  might 
be  about  sinking  the  ship. 

But  for  the  moment  they  were  looting  her, 
passing  stores,  clothing  and  provisions  into 
the  submarine.  The  Russian  watched  them  for 
about  twenty  minutes.  Then  the  submarine 
stood  off  and  fired  two  shells  into  the  ship.  She 
broke  in  two  and  sank.  The  submarinejjdived 
and  so  departed. 

The  Russian,  fighting  for  his  life  in  the  swirl 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  "BELGIAN  PRINCE  "  253 

of  water  and  driving  wreckage,  saw  the  master's 
dinghy,  which  had  been  left  adrift  by  the  sub- 
marine. He  swam  to  it,  climbed  in,  and  lay 
there  until  the  patrol  boat  picked  him  up. 

There  were  forty-four  people  in  the  Belgian 
Prince.  The  crew  numbered  forty-two,  including 
the  master,  and  there  were  two  negro  stowaways. 
The  master  was  taken  prisoner  ;  three  were  saved 
because  they  outwitted  the  German  murderers  ; 
forty  were  drowned.  Deprived  of  their  boats, 
robbed  of  their  possessions,  stripped  of  their 
lifebelts,  they  were  mustered  on  board  the  German 
submarine  and  drawn  down  to  certain  death. 

Then  the  commanding  officer  of  the  submarine 
having,  as  he  thought,  slain  all  witnesses  of  his 
crimes,  returned  to  plunder  his  prey,  the  deserted 
ship.  He  did  not  know  the  sturdy  Russian 
seaman  was  watching  him  from  behind  the 
rudder.  Or  that  two  more  witnesses  were  within 
gunshot. 

Whether  he  knew  it  or  not,  that  submarine 
officer  achieved  the  lowest  deep  of  iniquity  until 
then  touched  even  by  Germans  on  the  sea. 
There  may,  of  course,  be  worse  to  come  ;  the 
civilised  nations  are  hardly  competent  to  estimate 
the  possibilities  ;  but,  even  now,  the  Germans  at 
sea  have  done  that  which  shall  not  be  forgotten 
till  the  sea  runs  dry. 


XLIV 
EXPECTATION  AND  EVENT 

To  voyage  at  night  in  submarine-haunted 
waters  is  to  snatch  every  minute  from  fate. 
For  the  submarine  at  night  approaches  unseen, 
delivers  the  blow  in  the  dark,  and  vanishes 
unseen.  Therefore  to  all  on  board  the  venturing 
ship  the  thing  may  happen  at  any  moment ; 
also  it  may  not ;  and  so  they  live  from  moment 
to  moment ;  watching  the  grains  slip  through  the 
hour-glass  and  wondering  when  the  invisible 
hand  will  turn  the  glass  upside  down.  Such,  in 
fact,  is  the  state  of  suspense  of  their  under  con- 
sciousness. But  their  active  intelligence  is  em- 
ployed about  the  work  of  the  ship,  which  is  inces- 
sant, and  which  brings  fatigue  which  brings  sleep. 

There  are,  of  course,  the  forces  which  man 
always  marshals  against  the  unknown.  There 
is  fatalism,  the  theory  that  no  man  dies  before 
his  time,  and  that  when  his  time  comes,  die  he 
will.  And  what  is  perhaps  more  common,  the 
old  defiant  stoicism  of  the  seaman.  But  under- 
neath is  always  the  cruel  suspense.  It  is  mas- 
tered, but  it  is  there. 

The  lookout  man  on  the  forecastle  and  aloft 
in  the  crow's-nest ;  the  helmsman,  spinning  his 


EXPECTATION  AND  EVENT         255 

wheel,  his  eyes  on  the  compass-dial ;  the  officers 
on  the  bridge,  scanning  the  field  of  water, 
peering  into  the  dark,  and  aware  of  the  whole 
living  organism  of  the  ship  beating  like  a  heart 
beneath  their  feet ;  the  men  in  the  engine-room, 
tending  the  smooth,  swift  and  obedient 
machinery ;  the  men  in  the  stokehold,  amid 
the  steady  roar  of  the  furnaces,  heaving  coal 
into  the  flaming  caverns  ;  the  deck  hands,  each 
man  silent  at  his  post ;  the  gunners,  standing 
by  their  gun  aft;  each  and  all  know  their  hazard. 

But  of  all  men  on  board  the  master  wars  with 
the  most  formidable  adversary,  for  all  depend 
on  him.  He  dare  not  relax  for  a  moment. 
Should  the  crash  come,  it  is  the  master  who  must 
give  the  instant  orders,  and  the  slightest  hesita- 
tion or  the  least  mistake  will  lose  the  lives  of 
men.  He  has  rehearsed  in  his  mind  every 
contingency  over  and  over  again  ;  he  has  trained 
and  practised  crew  and  passengers ;  there  is  no 
more  to  be  done  than  to  wait.  And  in  waiting, 
he  cannot  afford  to  sleep  ;  and  yet  he  cannot 
afford  not  to  sleep.  Many  a  master  is  six  days 
and  nights  on  the  bridge  with  intervals  of  an 
hour  or  two  hours. 

If  his  ship  carries  troops,  the  master  knows 
at  least  that  in  case  of  emergency  he  can  rely 
upon  their  conduct.  He  also  knows,  if  that  is 
any  solace  to  him,  that  once  on  board  a  ship, 
a  soldier  divests  himself  of  care.  Once  he 
crosses  the  rail,  the  seaman  takes  charge  of  him. 
His  mind  is  at  ease.  Whatever  happens,  he  is 
not  responsible.  He  has  but  to  obey  orders. 

So,  on  the  night  of  2nd-3rd  June,  1917,  the 


256    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

troops  sailing  in  the  steamship  Cameronian 
went  to  their  hammocks  with  much  of  the 
composure  of  the  Government  mules  stalled  on 
the  decks  beneath,  which  they  had  just  fed  and 
watered  and  tucked  up  for  the  night.  But  the 
mules  did  not  know  that  for  them  there  was  no 
chance  of  escape. 

The  soldiers  went  to  sleep,  and  the  seamen 
watched.  Some  forty  soldiers  passed  from  sleep 
to  death  in  a  flood  of  water  filling  the  troop-deck 
in  an  instant.  The  torpedo  struck  the  ship 
at  half -past  three  in  the  morning. 

When  a  vessel  is  prepared,  the  chance  of 
saving  life  varies  according  to  the  time  she 
takes  to  sink.  Therefore  the  master  arranges 
his  organisation  to  work  in  the  shortest  period 
in  which  all  (or  nearly  all)  can  be  saved,  which 
is  about  five  minutes.  The  Cameronian  sank  in 
five  minutes. 

The  first  difficulty  is  to  stop  the  ship  so  that 
the  boats  may  be  the  more  safely  lowered.  The 
momentum  of  a  vessel  of  some  6,000  tons  cannot 
be  checked  in  a  moment.  The  master  of  the 
Cameronian  stopped  the  engines  instantly,  but 
as  the  ship  began  rapidly  to  sink  by  the  stern, 
the  boats  must  be  manned  immediately.  The 
crew  ran  to  their  boat  stations,  while  the  bugles 
called  and  the  soldiers,  those  who  escaped  from 
the  inundation  below,  came  tumbling  up,  to 
fall  in  under  the  officers'  orders  with  the  precision 
of  parade.  The  ship  was  still  sliding  forward,  the 
decks  tilting  up  from  the  stern  to  the  bows. 
The  five  boats  were  orderly  filled  and  three 
were  lowered  to  the  calm  sea.  But  ere  the  two 


EXPECTATION    AND    EVENT        257 

remaining  boats  touched  the  water,  the  ship 
went  down,  capsizing  the  boats.  As  she  sank, 
the  men  leaped  from  the  boats  into  the  water. 

The  exact  sequence  of  events  is  here  obscure, 
but  from  the  little  evidence  available,  it  is  clear 
that  the  men  in  the  other  three  boats,  coming 
to  the  rescue  of  the  men  in  the  water,  discovered 
that  there  were  men  pinned  down  beneath  the 
capsized  boats.  Before  these  heavy  sea-boats 
could  be  righted  the  men  beneath  them  would 
drown.  The  rescuers,  with  admirable  resource, 
promptly  smashed  in  the  planks  of  the  capsized 
boats,  presumably  using  the  looms  of  their 
oars,  and  hauled  three  men  through  the  aperture. 
Many  a  man  has  been  trapped  beneath  a  cap- 
sized boat ;  it  must  be  seldom,  indeed,  that  a 
way  of  escape  has  been  suddenly  burst  through 
the  bottom  of  the  boat. 

The  people  of  the  Cameronian,  in  the  dawn  of 
a  summer  morning,  were  now  adrift  upon  the 
Mediterranean,  some  fifty  miles  from  Malta. 
The  expected  had  happened ;  the  suspense  was 
over ;  the  sands  in  the  hour-glass  were  again 
trickling  steadily.  It  was  fair  weather  and 
there  was  no  immediate  apprehension.  But  the 
master  of  the  Cameronian,  to  whose  vigilance 
and  foresight  the  survivors  owed  their  lives,  was 
drowned ;  and  drowned  were  the  chief  engineer, 
eight  men,  and  the  two  gunners  of  the  Camer- 
oniar^  together  with  the  soldiers  who  had  been 
asleep  on  the  troop  deck ;  eighty-three  in  all. 

The  boats  were  picked  up  by  his  Majesty's 
ships  and  all  on  board  were  safely  landed. 


XLV 
QUICK  EYE  AND  READY  HAND 

ON  May  9th,  1917,  the  steamship  Malda  was 
in  the  North  Sea.  It  was  one  of  those  grey 
spring  days,  when  the  smooth  sea  and  the  still 
sky  are  suffused  with  an  uniform  light.  The 
master,  the  chief  officer,  the  second  officer,  who 
was  on  watch,  and  the  pilot  were  on  the  bridge  ; 
men  were  posted  to  look  out  in  the  crow's-nest 
on  the  foremast,  on  the  top  of  the  chart  house, 
on  the  upper  bridge,  and  beside  the  gun  aft. 

Among  these  was  a  cadet,  and  he  alone 
sighted  the  track  of  a  torpedo  ruffling  the 
water  about  three  points  abaft  the  port 
beam  and  travelling  directly  towards  the  ship. 
The  cadet  hailed  the  officer  of  the  watch,  who 
on  the  word  put  the  helm  hard  a-port,  at  the 
same  instant  ringing  the  engine-room  telegraph 
to  full  speed. 

Then  all  the  watchers,  eagerly  staring,  saw 
the  torpedo  glimmer  past  the  ship  close  under 
the  stern. 

The  ship  was  saved. 

The  master  sent  out  wireless  messages,  in 
reply  to  which  an  escort  was  sent,  and  the  next 
day  the  Malda  arrived  in  port. 


XLVI 
PANIC 

WHEN  the  torpedo  struck  the  steamship 
Locksley  Hall,  she  was  between  thirty  and  forty 
miles  from  Malta,  steaming  at  about  nine  knots. 
The  second  officer,  who  was  on  watch,  sighted  the 
track  of  a  torpedo  about  500  yards  away  from 
the  ship  on  the  starboard  side.  He  put  the  helm 
over  instantly  ;  but  it  was  at  an  unlucky  moment ; 
for  the  vessel  was  changing  from  one  zigzag 
course  to  another,  and  ere  she  could  fully 
answer  the  alteration  in  the  helm,  the  torpedo 
exploded  in  the  engine-room. 

The  fourth  engineer  and  five  of  the  engine- 
room  crew  were  killed ;  the  engines  were  shat- 
tered ;  the  after  deck  was  flooded  and  a  huge 
column  of  water  mixed  with  wreckage  rose  high 
into  the  air,  the  starboard  lifeboat  being  lifted 
some  fifty  feet. 

There  were  fifty-one  natives  in  the  crew  of 
sixty-two.  Instantly  after  the  explosion  a  mob 
of  natives  swarmed  upon  deck  and  into  the 
boats,  without  stopping  to  pick  up  lifebelts. 
The  master  and  the  officers  ordered  them  out 
of  the  boats,  and  they  refused  to  budge.  As 
the  way  was  slowing-off  the  vessel,  the  master 

'59  82 


260    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

and  the  officers  themselves  lowered  the  boats, 
crammed  with  the  dark  men,  the  whites  of 
whose  eyes  showed  like  the  eyes  of  terrified 
animals. 

The  master,  cool  and  composed,  sent  the 
second  engineer,  the  third  officer  and  the  chief 
gunner  one  after  the  other  to  see  that  all  had 
come  up  from  the  engine-room ;  and,  having 
satisfied  himself  on  that  point,  ordered  all 
remaining  on  board  into  the  boats. 

He  stayed  on  board,  as  he  thought,  alone. 
Having  attended  to  the  destruction  of  his 
confidential  papers  and  to  other  details,  the 
master  found  that  in  the  wreck  and  confusion 
some  of  the  native  crew  had  taken  refuge  in 
the  port  dinghy,  which  was  still  hanging  to  the 
davits.  The  chief  steward  was  faithfully  stand- 
ing by  the  boat.  The  master  ordered  him  into 
it,  and  after  some  persuasion,  induced  one  of 
the  natives  to  leave  the  boat  and  to  take  one 
of  the  falls.  The  master  took  the  other,  when 
the  debilitated  native  let  go.  Those  in  the 
boat  cut  the  falls  just  in  time  to  prevent  her 
from  capsizing. 

The  master,  the  last  to  leave  the  ship,  got 
into  the  dinghy.  By  that  time  the  after  deck 
of  the  sinking  vessel  was  nearly  level  with  the 
water. 

The  master  pulled  across  to  the  other  two 
boats,  and  gave  to  them  certain  instructions. 

It  was  then  about  a  quarter  past  one,  half 
an  hour  since  the  ship  had  been  torpedoed.  A 
few  minutes  later  the  submarine  leisurely 
emerged  about  half  a  mile  away,  and  fired  five 


PANIC  261 

rounds  into  the  Locksley  Hall.  The  submarine 
then  drew  near  to  the  boats,  and  her  commanding 
officer  demanded  the  person  of  the  master. 
But  being  unable  to  discover  him,  the  German 
requested  the  usual  information  concerning  ship 
and  cargo,  and  then  diverted  himself  by  taking 
photographs  of  his  victims.  When  he  had  quite 
finished,  he  drew  away  towards  the  Locksley 
Hall,  fired  four  more  shots  into  her,  and  then 
departed. 

The  boats  remained  where  they  were,  the  crew 
watching  their  ship  settling  down.  Presently 
she  thrust  her  bows  perpendicularly  into  the 
air  and  so  sank. 

The  boats  were  picked  up  next  day. 


XLVII 
NINE  STEADFAST  MEN 

IN  the  steamship  City  of  Corinth  every  officer 
and  man  on  deck  was  keeping  a  look-out.  She 
had  come  all  the  way  from  Japan,  and  now,  at 
a  little  after  five  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of 
May  21st,  1917,  the  ship  was  off  the  Lizard,  in 
sight  of  home. 

The  haze  of  a  spring  twilight  hung  in  the 
windless  air,  so  that  the  ship,  steaming  at  thirteen 
knots,  moved  in  a  clear  circle  of  about  six  miles' 
diameter,  across  a  smooth  sea ;  and  if  the  lines 
of  vision  were  palpable,  they  would  be  seen 
radiating  like  the  spokes  of  a  wheel  from  the 
eyes  of  the  gazing  men  on  deck,  incessantly 
travelling  upon  the  shining  field  of  sea.  But 
nothing  marred  its  silken  levels. 

The  chief  officer  on  the  bridge  felt  a  shock  and 
heard  a  thud.  The  blow  so  long  pending  had 
been  struck.  The  master,  who  was  at  the  foot 
of  the  ladder,  sprang  up  it  to  the  bridge  and 
rang  full  speed  astern,  to  take  off  the  way 
of  the  ship.  Then  he  ordered  the  wireless 
operator  to  send  out  a  message  giving  the  ship's 
position. 


NINE  STEADFAST   MEN  263 

At  the  same  moment  the  chief  engineer  below 
saw  the  water  pouring  from  the  tunnel,  the  long 
steel  passage  in  which  the  propeller  shaft  revolves. 
He  turned  on  the  men  to  force  the  tunnel  door 
shut  and  to  get  the  pumps  going.  The  third 
engineer  went  to  the  gun  mounted  aft. 

The  ship  listed  to  port,  settled  down  a  little 
aft,  and  then  hung  where  she  was. 

But  while  the  officers  and  the  white  men 
among  the  crew  were  swiftly  doing  their  duty, 
the  Lascars  and  Chinese  scrambled  headlong 
into  the  boats  and  lowered  them.  Within 
two  or  three  minutes  of  the  explosion  one  boat 
got  away.  The  chief  officer,  standing  by  the 
rail,  shouting  his  orders  (with  what  emphasis 
may  be  imagined)  induced  the  men  in  the  other 
three  boats  to  hold  on  alongside. 

The  second  and  third  engineers,  who  were 
both  sick  men,  were  lowered  into  the  boats. 

The  master,  at  his  post  on  the  bridge,  swiftly 
surveyed  the  situation,  and  decided,  in  spite  of 
the  desertion  of  the  native  and  Chinese  crew, 
to  try  to  make  the  land.  For  aught  he  knew, 
there  was  no  one  left  in  the  engine-room.  He 
rang  the  telegraph,  and  receiving  an  instant 
reply  from  the  chief  engineer,  ordered  full 
speed  ahead,  and  steered  for  the  land  inside 
the  Lizard."  With  a  powerful  head  of  steam  the 
ship  began  to  move ;  and  at  the  same  time  the 
wireless  operator  received  messages  saying  that 
help  was  on  its  way. 

The  third  engineer,  having  left  the  gun  and 
gone  below  to  fetch  some  clothes,  found  the 
water  flooding  the  engine-room,  and  was  dis- 


264     THE   MERCHANT   SEAMAN  IN   WAR 

patched  by  the  chief  engineer  to  report  the 
position  to  the  master. 

Baffled  in  his  seamanlike  attempt  to  make  the 
shore,  the  master  rang  down  to  the  engine-room, 
stop,  then,  finished  with  engines,  and  sent 
the  second  officer  to  make  sure  that  all  below 
came  on  deck. 

The  chief  engineer  was  instructed  to  get  into 
one  of  the  boats.  In  the  meantime,  the  ship 
was  settling  down.  When  the  after  deck  was 
within  a  foot  of  the  water,  the  master  ordered 
the  boats  to  pull  away  from  the  vessel  for  two 
or  three  hundred  yards  and  there  to  remain. 

There  were  thus  left  on  board  the  sinking  ship  : 
the  master,  who  was  on  the  bridge,  the  chief 
officer,  ranging  the  decks,  the  wireless  operator, 
sticking  by  his  instrument,  and  standing  by  the 
gun,  the  two  gunners,  three  engineers  and  the 
carpenter. 

These  officers  and  men  were  taking  a  double 
risk.  The  ship  might  go  down  under  them  as 
she  was,  or  she  might  be  sunk  by  a  second 
torpedo,  which  might  also  kill  or  wound  those 
on  board. 

But  a  patrol  boat  was  in  sight ;  there  was 
still  a  chance,  if  the  submarine  emerged,  of 
hitting  her  with  a  shot  from  the  ship's  gun; 
and  there  was  even  a  vanishing  chance  of  saving 
the  ship. 

So  the  master,  the  chief  officer,  the  wireless 
operator,  the  two  gunners,  the  three  engineers, 
and  the  carpenter,  nine  steadfast  men,  stayed 
by  their  ship.  They  saw,  a  long  way  off,  another 
steamer,  which  appeared  to  be  in  distress. 


NINE   STEADFAST    MEN  265 

The  next  thing  was  that  the  chief  engineer  in 
the  boat,  which  was  hanging  off  and  on  not  far 
from  the  ship,  heard  the  gasp  and  hiss  of  com- 
pressed air  escaping,  and  recognised  the  sound 
of  the  firing  of  a  torpedo  under  water  close 
beneath  him. 

At  the  same  moment,  the  watchers  in  the  ship 
saw  a  periscope  and  fired  at  it ;  and  as  they 
fired,  the  second  torpedo  struck  the  ship  in  the 
engine-room,  exploding  with  tremendous  violence. 

The  men  in  the  ship,  dazed  by  the  shock  and 
with  water  and  wreckage  falling  all  about  them, 
felt  the  deck  under  their  feet  going  down  and 
down.  The  master,  cool  and  unhurried,  hailed 
the  boat  nearest  to  the  ship  to  come  alongside, 
and  hove  overboard  his  confidential  papers. 

The  nine  men  slid  into  the  boat,  which  backed 
hard  off,  and  cleared  the  ship.  She  turned  over 
and  sank  by  the  stern. 

The  people  in  the  boats  saw  a  number  of  patrol 
boats  gathering  about  the  distant  ship  which 
had  appeared  to  be  sinking,  and  then  the  patrol 
boat  which  had  been  first  sighted  came  up  and 
took  them  into  port. 


XLVIII 
CARNAGE 

AT  a  little  after  six  o'clock  on  the  morning  of 
May  26th,  1917,  a  submarine  opened  fire  at  long 
range  upon  the  steamship  Umaria. 

The  master  instantly  ordered  fire  to  be  opened 
in  reply.  The  gunner  of  the  Umaria  had  fired 
five  rounds  when  the  striker  of  the  gun  broke, 
and  the  gun  was  made  useless.  Then  the  master 
employed  smoke-boxes,  as  his  last  resource,  in 
the  hope  of  obscuring  the  aim  of  the  enemy  ; 
but  nevertheless  his  shells  fell  fast  and  deadly. 

One  shell  killed  a  native  and  wounded  several 
firemen  and  two  cadets.  Another  smashed  a 
lifeboat,  and  with  it  a  native  who  had  fled  into 
it  for  refuge.  A  splinter  broke  the  thigh  of 
the  fourth  engineer.  The  steering  gear  was 
struck,  and  the  ship  went  out  of  control. 

It  was  then  about  three-quarters  of  an  hour 
since  the  action  had  begun.  The  master  decided 
to  abandon  the  ship.  The  engineers  were  called 
up  from  below,  and  the  boats  were  lowered  under 
continuous  fire  from  the  enemy.  Three  life- 
boats were  got  away.  As  the  gig  was  being 
lowered  the  master  was  struck  on  the  shoulder 

266 


CARNAGE  267 

by  a  splinter.  While  those  about  him  were 
dressing  the  wound  as  best  they  could,  the  gig 
drifted  away  from  the  ship.  In  the  gig  were 
the  wounded  and  helpless  fourth  engineer,  the 
second  engineer,  two  cadets,  a  gunner,  a  native 
fireman,  and  a  saloon  boy :  seven  in  all. 

The  gig's  crew  began  to  row  back  towards 
the  ship,  whereupon  the  submarine,  which 
mounted  a  four-inch  gun,  fired  on  them.  The 
fourth  engineer  received  another  frightful  injury  ; 
the  second  engineer  had  his  leg  smashed  and 
other  hurts  ;  one  of  the  cadets  was  hit  in  the 
arm  and  in  the  leg ;  the  gunner  was  wounded 
in  several  places,  the  native  had  two  wounds 
and  the  saloon  boy  was  slightly  hurt.  There 
remained  but  one  person  in  the  boat,  a  cadet, 
untouched. 

Those  who  had  stayed  by  the  master  got  into 
the  boat,  which  was  ordered  by  the  commanding 
officer  of  the  submarine  to  come  alongside.  The 
German  informed  the  chief  officer  that  he  had 
taken  prisoner  the  second  officer,  the  third 
engineer,  and  a  cadet,  and  he  demanded  the 
person  of  the  master. 

The  master  held  his  peace.  The  chief  officer 
told  the  German  that  the  master  was  badly 
wounded,  whereupon  the  German  took  the  chief 
engineer  on  board  the  submarine,  and  in  his 
stead  released  the  third  engineer. 

The  commanding  officer  of  the  submarine, 
leaning  on  the  rail  of  the  conning  tower,  looked 
down  upon  his  victims. 

Crouched  upon  the  thwarts  in  the  sunlight, 
up  to  their  knees  in  the  water,  which,  stained 


268    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

crimson,  was  flowing  through  the  shell-holes 
in  the  planking,  soaked  with  blood,  holding  their 
wounds,  staring  with  hunted  eyes,  was  the  heap 
of  stricken  men. 

The  German  ordered  the  boat  away.  The 
shore  was  fifteen  miles  distant.  There  were  no 
more  than  three  men  in  the  boat  who  could  pull 
an  oar :  the  chief  officer,  the  third  officer,  and 
the  third  engineer  who  had  been  released  from 
the  submarine.  Without  appliances,  crowded 
together  in  the  waterlogged  boat,  they  made 
what  shift  they  could  to  dress  the  wounded. 
Then  they  rowed  towards  the  shore. 

It  was  about  eight  o'clock  when  they  left  the 
submarine.  They  saw  the  submarine  firing  at 
the  deserted  ship,  which  sank  about  9.30  a.m. 

Before  that  time  the  fourth  engineer,  who  had 
twice  been  so  dreadfully  wounded,  died.  For 
over  six  interminable,  tormented  hours  the 
boat  was  adrift,  the  sun  beating  more  and  more 
fiercely  upon  the  wounded  men,  who  had  neither 
food  nor  water,  and  whose  hurts  were  stiffening, 
so  that  the  slightest  movement  was  agony. 

Then  an  Italian  rowing-boat  came  up,  and 
towed  the  wretched  men  to  a  patrol  vessel, 
into  which  they  were  taken.  The  patrol  boat 
had  already  picked  up  the  other  three  boats. 
A  fireman  died  on  the  way  to  an  Italian  port, 
where  the  survivors  were  treated  with  every 
kindness.  Afterwards  they  were  transferred  to 
another  town,  and  here  the  ladies  of  the  English 
colony  tended  them. 


XLIX 
UNAVOIDABLE 

ON  May  30th,  1917,  the  steamship  Bathurst, 
in  company  with  the  steamship  Hanky,  home- 
ward bound,  was  about  ninety  miles  from  the 
south-west  coast  of  Ireland.  The  Bathurst  was 
unarmed.  The  Hanky  mounted  a  gun  for  the 
defence  of  both  vessels  ;  she  was  keeping  station 
on  the  port  side  of  the  Bathurst,  about  half  a 
mile  away  from  her.  The  weather  was  fine  and 
clear  and  the  sea  a  flat  calm.  On  board  the 
Bathurst  the  whole  of  the  officers  and  men  on 
deck  were  keeping  a  look-out. 

Early  in  the  afternoon,  the  people  in  the 
Bathurst  saw  a  fountain  of  water,  mingled  with 
black  smoke,  flung  up  on  the  port  side  of  the 
Hanky,  and  observed  her  to  slow  down  and 
presently  to  stop.  It  was,  of  course,  obvious  to 
the  master  of  the  Bathurst  that  the  Hanky  had 
been  attacked  by  an  invisible  enemy  submarine. 
To  go  to  the  assistance  of  the  Hanky  would  have 
involved  the  loss  of  the  Bathurst.  In  these 
emergencies  each  ship  must  look  after  herself. 
As  matters  stood,  the  Bathurst  was  in  imminent 


269 


270    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

danger ;  and  the  chance  of  saving  her  depended 
upon  the  instant  action  of  the  master.  Her 
helm  was  put  over,  and  she  was  kept  on  at  full 
speed,  steering  a  zig-zag  course. 

About  half  an  hour  later,  when  the  distance 
separating  the  two  vessels  had  increased  to  three 
miles,  the  master  of  the  Baihurst  perceived, 
ruffling  the  water,  a  track  beginning  from  under 
the  stern  of  the  Hanley  and  coming  to  about  a 
mile  astern  of  the  Bathurst.  The  next  moment 
a  submarine  emerged,  and  instantly  opened  fire 
at  a  range  of  about  2,000  yards.  The  master  of 
the  Bathurst  kept  her  at  full  speed,  until  several 
times  shells  had  exploded  on  her  decks.  His 
ship  was  unarmed  and  she  could  not  escape  ; 
the  Hanley,  which  mounted  a  gun,  was  already 
torpedoed  ;  and  the  master  of  the  Bathurst  had 
no  choice  but  to  abandon  her.  He  blew  two 
long  blasts  on  the  whistle,  and  ordered  the  crew 
into  the  boats  ;  waited  until  the  way  was  off 
the  ship,  and  ordered  the  boats  to  be  lowered. 
One  of  the  four  boats  had  been  damaged  by 
shell  fire,  and  the  master  took  the  men  in  her 
aboard  his  own  boat. 

In  the  meantime  the  submarine  continued  her 
fire.  As  the  boats  of  the  Bathurst  pulled  away 
from  the  ship,  the  men  in  them  saw  that  the 
distant  Hanley  was  settling  down  in  the  water, 
and  that  her  boats  were  pulling  away  from  her. 

The  submarine  continued  to  fire  at  the  Bathurst 
until  she  also  began  to  settle  down.  Then  the 
submarine  approached  the  boats  of  the  Bathurst ; 
the  commanding  officer  of  the  submarine  ordered 
the  master's  boat  alongside ;  and  demanded 


UNAVOIDABLE  271 

information  concerning  both  ships  and  their 
cargoes.  The  German  officer  ordered  the  master 
of  the  Bathurst  to  deliver  to  him  the  ship's  papers 
and  chronometers.  The  master  told  him  that 
these  had  been  left  on  board  the  Bathurst.  At 
this  point  one  of  the  seamen  on  board  the 
submarine  reported  to  the  German  officer  that 
other  vessels  were  approaching,  whereupon  the 
submarine  hastily  got  under  way  and  went 
astern  at  full  speed  towards  the  Bathurst.  She 
fired  a  torpedo  into  the  Bathurst,  striking  her 
amidships,  went  swiftly  across  to  the  Hanley, 
fired  another  torpedo  into  her,  and  then  went 
away,  steering  westward. 

Ere  the  submarine  was  out  of  sight,  the  men 
in  the  boats  sighted  the  smoke  of  two  vessels 
coming  swiftly  towards  them  from  the  eastward, 
and  soon  afterwards  two  patrol  boats  hove  into 
view,  passed  the  boats  at  full  speed,  and  went 
on  in  pursuit  of  the  submarine,  firing  as  they 
went. 

It  was  then  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 
The  men  in  the  boats  saw  the  Bathurst  sink,  and 
shortly  afterwards  saw  the  Hanley  go  down  also. 
The  master  of  the  Bathurst  ordered  sail  to  be 
set  on  the  boats,  and  the  course  to  be  set  towards 
the  land.  The  men  in  the  boats  of  the  Hanley 
were  left  behind  for  the  time  being.  Soon 
afterwards  they  were  picked  up  by  the  patrol 
boats,  which  afterwards  picked  up  the  boats  of 
the  Bathurst. 


QUITE  O.K. 

THE  report  of  the  master  of  the  Miniota 
deserves  to  be  recorded  in  his  own  words  ;  for 
he  owns  a  right  English  style,  as  forthright, 
terse,  and  idiomatic  as  the  sturdy  diction  of 
that  master  of  narrative,  Sir  Koger  L'Estrange. 

So  here  is  the  story  of  the  master  of  the 
Miniota : 

I  beg  leave  to  report  that  at  3.40  p.m.  June  4th, 
1917,  in  (such  and  such)  a  latitude  and  longitude, 
we  sighted  a  submarine,  bearing  down  upon  us 
from  our  port  beam,  and  firing  as  she  approached. 
We  brought  her  astern  and  opened  fire  in 
return.  Finding  her  shots  were  falling  short  of 
us,  as  also  ours  of  her,  we  ceased  firing,  with  a 
view  to  allowing  her  to  overtake  us  somewhat, 
and  so  to  bring  her  within  range.  Later,  finding 
her  shots  were  falling  unpleasantly  near,  we  opened 
fire  on  her,  and  found  that  we  just  had  her 
within  range,  our  last  shot  only  missing  her  by 
a  few  yards.  She  evidently  did  not  relish  taking 
any  further  chances,  for  she  opened  her  broadside 
to  us,  fired  both  guns,  and  dived.  So  the  incident 
closed  with  what  we  considered  vantage  to  us.  We 


QUITE    O.K.  273 

expended  thirty  rounds  in  the  duel,  to  somewhere 
about  fifty  to  sixty  rounds  of  the  enemy. 

At  about  7  p.m.,  we  noticed  that  an  American 
ship,  which  was  about  three  and  a  half  miles 
away  on  our  port  bow,  appeared  to  be  in  diffi- 
culties. We  were  overtaking  her  fast,  and  on 
closer  inspection  found  that  she  had  stopped. 
We  concluded  that  she  had  been  hit,  and  that 
doubtless  the  submarine  would  be  endeavouring 
to  bring  off  a  double  event,  in  view  of  which 
we  put  our  helm  hard  a-port,  and,  while  swinging 
round  to  it,  sighted  his  periscope  some  200  or 
300  yards  away,  aft  of  our  beam. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  submarine,  on 
getting  a  view  of  us  through  her  periscope,  found 
herself  in  a  false  position  for  attack,  being  right 
under  our  gun.  So  she  wisely  submerged,  swirled 
the  water  up  twice  under  our  stern,  but  did 
not  show  herself,  realising  that,  with  a  point- 
blank  bead  on  her,  she  was  at  our  mercy. 

In  the  meantime,  our  wireless  operator  inter- 
cepted a  brief  message  from  the  American, 
saying  that  she  was  sinking.  Concluding  that 
there  was  something  amiss  with  her  wireless 
installation,  we  sent  out  a  message  for  her, 
giving  her  position  and  saying  that  her  boats 
were  in  the  water. 

However,  the  time  spent  by  the  submarine 
paving  her  attentions  to  us  gave  the  American 
ship  the  opportunity  of  putting  her  houee  in 
order.  Doubtless  finding  that  she  was  not  as 
badly  wounded  as  she  had  thought,  and  not 
being  further  attacked,  she  had  started  to  hoist 
her  boats  in,  and  was  steaming  slowly  ahead. 

T 


274    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

Next  we  saw  the  submarine  come  to  the  surface 
some  distance  astern  of  her,  and  circle  round 
on  her  port  side,  whence  she  started  shelling 
the  American  ship,  which  replied.  The  shelling 
went  on  for  some  time. 

The  American  ship  appeared  to  be  hit  several 
times,  eventually  ceased  firing  and  steamed 
away.  So  far  as  we  could  see  she  was  not  much 
the  worse  for  the  encounter. 

The  next  day  the  American  ship  sent  out  a 
message  to  the  effect  that  she  had  sunk  the 
submarine  and  that  everything  was  quite  O.K. 
with  her,  so  that,  accepting  such  to  be  the  case, 
it  follows  that  the  submarine,  in  her  greed  to 
take  the  two  of  us,  lost  both,  and  herself  to 
boot. 

I  would  wish  to  state  that  the  morale  of  our 
ship's  company  left  nothing  to  be  desired.  Our 
gunners,  when  once  they  got  into  their  stride, 
were  quick  on  the  trigger,  and  most  accurate 
in  their  fire. 

Thus  the  master  of  the  Miniota,  thus  and  no 
more.  He  outmanoeuvred  and  outfought  the 
enemy,  stood  by  his  American  friend,  took  his 
chances  and  saved  his  ship,  all  with  a  cheerful 
zest  and  a  mind  at  ease.  Another  German 
shark  was  sent  to  the  bottom  and  "  everything 
was  quite  O.K." 


LI 
THE  CHASE  BY  NIGHT 

AT  nine  o'clock  on  the  evening  of  June  8th, 
1917,  the  steamship  Akdbo,  homeward  bound, 
was  about  250  miles  west  of  Land's  End.  It 
was  a  grey  evening,  the  sea  running  in  a  gentle 
swell  from  the  north-west.  On  the  forecastle 
head,  in  the  crow's  nest,  on  the  bridge,  aft, 
and  along  the  rail  amidships,  men,  vigilant  and 
motionless,  scanned  the  sea,  marking  every 
ripple  and  shadow.  Among  the  watchers  were 
four  passengers,  who  had  volunteered  for  duty. 
One  man,  or  several  men,  sighted  a  periscope,  the 
little  black  oblong  hove  up  on  the  surface.  As 
the  cry  went  up  the  master  had  his  foot  on  the 
ladder  of  the  lower  bridge.  The  periscope  was 
then  half  a  point  abaft  the  starboard  beam  and 
about  400  yards  away. 

The  master  sprang  up  to  the  navigating 
bridge  and  ordered  the  helm  to  be  put  hard 
over.  The  Akabo,  which  was  steaming  at  about 
twelve  knots,  instantly  answered  to  the  helm, 
and  swung  round  until  the  submarine  was 
about  four  points  on  the  starboard  quarter. 
Then,  those  looking  out  on  the  starboard  side 
saw  a  torpedo  glide  past,  the  swerving  of  the 


275 


276    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

vessel  having  saved  her.  The  master  rang  down 
to  the  engine-room  to  make  all  possible  speed, 
and  signalled  to  the  gunners  that  there  was  a 
submarine  on  the  starboard  quarter. 

The  conning  tower  of  the  submarine  emerged. 
Fire  was  opened  upon  it  from  the  Akabo,  and 
the  submarine  dived  swiftly.  The  master  of  the 
Akabo  kept  her  at  full  speed,  constantly  altering 
course,  and,  for  the  time  being,  the  submarine 
was  no  more  seen. 

The  master  increased  the  number  of  look- 
outs, and  so  held  on  his  course  for  nearly  three 
hours. 

It  was  almost  midnight  when  a  look-out  aft 
sighted  a  submarine  on  the  port  quarter.  The 
people  on  the  bridge  were  unable  to  see  the 
enemy,  but,  as  the  alarm  was  given,  the  helm 
was  put  hard  over,  and  full  speed  was  main- 
tained. At  the  same  moment,  according  to 
the  statement  of  the  crew  looking  aft,  they  heard 
the  cough  and  hiss  of  the  firing  of  a  torpedo, 
and  a  few  moments  later,  they  reported  that  a 
second  torpedo  had  been  fired. 

The  gunners  of  the  Akabo  opened  fire  on  the 
submarine,  and  the  second  shot  exploded  with 
a  sound  as  of  the  impact  of  metal  on  metal, 
indicating  that  the  conning  tower  of  the 
submarine  had  been  struck.  But  the  damage 
inflicted  was  evidently  not  serious,  for  the 
look-out  aft  continued  to  report  from  time  to 
time  that  a  submarine  had  been  sighted  ;  and 
at  each  report  the  master  altered  course  in 
order  to  bring  the  submarine  astern. 

At  about  half-past  two  in  the  morning,  the 


THE   CHASE  BY  NIGHT  277 

watchers  perceived  a  rough  glitter  patching  the 
smooth  dark  swell,  and  knew  that  the  phos- 
phorescence betrayed  the  hunting  submarine. 
Then,  her  periscope  stuck  forth  from  the  light 
patch  about  400  yards  off  the  starboard  beam 
of  the  Akabo.  The  master  once  more  put  her 
helm  hard  over.  The  next  moment  a  torpedo 
was  seen  by  the  people  on  the  bridge  to  pass 
the  vessel  and  to  disappear  towards  the  port 
bow.  Again  the  swift  manoeuvring  of  the  Akabo 
foiled  the  enemy.  The  gunners  fired  three  shots 
at  the  periscope,  which  again  submerged. 

Soon  afterwards  the  lights  of  the  coast  were 
sighted,  and  the  master  of  the  Akabo  altered 
course  to  close  two  men-of-war. 

At  daylight  the  Akabo  was  met  by  a  destroyer 
of  the  United  States  Navy,  which  escorted  her 
out  of  the  danger  zone. 

The  master  reports  that  the  behaviour  of  the 
passengers  and  crew  was  admirable. 

The  case  of  the  Akabo  is  an  example  of  what 
can  be  done  by  means  of  strict  vigilance  and 
skilled  seamanship.  We  are  now  a  long  way 
from  the  early  experiences  of  the  war  at  sea, 
when  the  mercantile  marine  faced  the  unseen 
enemy,  unarmed  and  unprepared.  We  now  re- 
mark officers  and  men  owning  a  gun  and  the 
skill  to  use  it,  practised  in  the  wiles  of  the 
enemy,  knowing  what  he  will  do,  and  how  to 
prevent  him  from  doing  it,  and  ready  for  all 
contingencies.  The  submarine  shows  herself  at 
her  peril. 


LII 
THE  SECOND  CHANCE 

WHEN  the  City  of  Exeter  struck  a  mine,  she 
was  within  some  twenty  miles  of  a  port  on  the 
west  coast  of  India. 

The  master,  acting  upon  the  plan  arranged 
by  him  beforehand  to  meet  all  contingencies, 
set  his  organisation  in  motion. 

As  the  ship  was  settling  down  by  the  head, 
the  master  had  first  to  secure  the  safety  of 
passengers  and  crew ;  and  secondly,  to  combine 
with  that  precaution  an  opportunity  for  saving 
the  ship  should  she  remain  afloat. 

Accordingly,  he  ordered  the  six  lifeboats  to 
be  manned  and  lowered,  and  then  to  remain 
near  by  the  ship.  If  she  sank,  the  boats  were 
to  steer  for  the  land. 

Crew  and  passengers,  numbering  181  in  all, 
orderly  embarked  and  stood  by.  The  whole  of 
the  engine  room  staff,  knowing  that  the  ship 
might  founder  at  any  moment,  remained  at 
their  posts  below,  until  they  received  orders  to 
come  on  deck. 

Now  when  a  crew  have  once  quitted  an  injured 
ship,  which  may  be  sinking,  they  are  at  once 
released  from  the  stress  of  imminent  danger. 

271 


THE  SECOND  CHANCE  279 

They  definitely  end  one  episode,  and  begin 
another,  perhaps  of  an  equal  danger,  but  of  a 
different  danger.  To  ask  men  to  return  to  the 
original  peril,  is  to  ask  them  to  reverse  in  a 
moment  the  whole  current  of  their  mind,  and 
to  make  a  great  call  upon  their  constancy  and 
courage.  Here  is  one  reason  why  it  is  essential 
to  make  a  plan  beforehand  and  to  impart  it  to 
the  crew.  Their  minds  are  then  prepared  for 
all  requisite  action ;  leaving  the  ship  becomes  a 
provisional  instead  of  a  final  measure  ;  and  if 
they  are  required  to  return  to  the  vessel,  although 
the  order  needs  no  less  courage  to  execute,  it 
has  the  quality  of  the  expected. 

So  the  six  lifeboats,  filled  with  crew  and 
passengers,  lay  off  on  the  heaving  sea,  in  the 
thick  rain,  and  contemplated  the  wounded  ship, 
rolling  there,  settling  down  by  the  bows,  melan- 
choly and  alone.  They  waited  thus  for  an  hour. 

Then  the  master  ordered  all  to  come  on  board 
again ;  and  as  orderly  as  they  had  embarked  in 
the  boats,  crew  and  passengers  drew  alongside 
the  City  of  Exeter,  hooked  on  the  falls,  hauled 
up  the  boats,  secured  them  to  the  davits,  and 
proceeded  each  to  his  post. 

The  master  ordered  slow  speed  and  continued 
on  his  course.  There  were  thirty-four  feet  of 
water  in  No.  1  hold,  and  for  aught  the  master 
knew,  its  bulkheads  might  give  way  at  any 
moment  under  the  immense  additional  pressure. 
Had  a  bulkhead  burst,  another  hold  would  have 
been  flooded,  and  then  in  all  probability  another, 
and  the  ship  must  have  gone  down. 

But  the  bulkheads  held  from  minute  to  minute, 


280     THE   MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

for  the  rest  of  the  day.  It  was  about  half-past 
nine  in  the  morning  when  the  City  of  Exeter  began 
to  nose  through  the  tropical  rain  whelming  sea 
and  sky.  Hour  after  hour  she  crawled  on  at 
between  two  and  three  knots,  and  in  the  after- 
noon the  master  picked  up  the  land. 

By  six  o'clock  he  had  anchored  in  the  harbour, 
"  without  any  outside  assistance."  The  ship 
was  then  drawing  thirty-four  feet  forward,  and 
twenty-two  feet  six  inches  aft. 

"  I  have  much  pleasure,"  reports  the  master, 
"  in  stating  that  all  members  of  the  crew,  both 
European  and  native,  behaved  splendidly  during 
the  trying  time." 

Students  of  the  affair  will  appreciate  the 
conduct  of  the  master  himself,  concerning  which 
he  says  nothing. 


LIII 
HAED  PRESSED 

WHEN  the  steamship  Holywell  was  approaching 
the  entrance  to  the  English  Channel,  the  master 
sighted  a  submarine,  about  two  miles  away  on 
the  starboard  beam. 

The  master  was  ready,  the  crew  were  ready, 
and  many  things  happened  simultaneously  on 
board  the  Holywell.  The  course  was  altered, 
the  men  ran  to  their  stations,  the  wireless  oper- 
ator sent  out  a  message,  and  the  gunners  opened 
fire  on  the  enemy.  Such  are  the  results  produced 
by  a  submarine  within  a  few  seconds  of  her 
appearance.  Her  quarry  swerves,  she  gets  a 
shell  about  her  ears,  and  her  position  is  made 
known  with  the  speed  of  lightning  to  all  whom 
it  may  concern.  Thus  it  happened  on  June  llth, 
1917,  at  7.15  in  the  morning. 

The  gunners  of  the  Holywell  fired  two  rounds. 
Then  the  submarine  dived  until  her  hull  was 
under  water,  leaving  her  two  masts  and  periscope 
projecting.  As  she  was  running  submerged  her 
speed  dropped,  and  the  master  of  the  Holywell 
drew  away  from  her.  Observe  now  one  of  the 
incidental  advantages  of  mounting  an  adequate 


281 


282    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

gun.  The  submarine,  forced  to  run  under  water 
for  fear  of  being  hit,  thereby  decreases  her  speed 
from  eighteen  or  twenty  knots  to  about  twelve. 

The  master,  during  the  chase,  observed  no 
torpedo,  but  two  of  the  native  crew  reported 
that  they  saw  a  torpedo  pass  astern  of  the 
ship. 

By  about  half-past  nine,  or  some  two  hours 
after  the  submarine  had  been  sighted,  she  had 
disappeared. 

The  master  held  on  till  a  quarter-past  two, 
when  a  submarine  emerged  no  more  than  the 
ship's  length  away,  abreast  of  the  engine-room 
on  the  port  side.  Here  was  a  very  near  thing 
indeed.  Over  went  the  helm  of  the  Holyivell, 
the  enemy's  torpedo  passed  within  ten  feet  of 
the  ship's  stern,  and  at  the  same  moment  the 
gunner  fired,  his  second  shot  exploding  just 
over  the  submarine.  Wireless  messages  were 
sent,  and  the  firemen  below  double-banked  the 
furnaces.  The  submarine  went  under.  She 
stepped  one  mast,  not  two  ;  so  that  she  was 
probably  a  different  vessel  from  the  first  sub- 
marine sighted. 

During  herattack,  the  mastersighted  yetanother 
submarine  five  miles  away  on  the  port  quarter. 
The  gunner  opened  fire  upon  her.  His  three  shots 
fell  short.  The  submarine  replied  with  twelve 
shots,  all  of  which  fell  short,  but  they  struck 
the  water  no  more  than  the  ship's  length  astern. 

The  master  of  the  Holywell,  conversing  with 
the  authorities  by  wireless,  held  on,  steering 
through  a  melancholy  and  a  significant  field  of 
wreckage.  At  seven  in  the  evening,  one  of  his 


HARD     PRESSED  283 

Majesty's  ships  picked  him  up  and  escorted  him 
until  dark.  The  master  went  on  alone  until 
four  o'clock  the  next  morning,  when  another 
ship  of  war  escorted  him  into  port. 

It  is  due  to  the  master  that  his  admirable 
organisation  worked  with  so  swift  a  precision 
that  he  beat  off  and  escaped  from  three  enemies 
in  one  day.  Conceive  now  the  extraordinary 
tension  of  the  unwinking  vigilance  required  of 
the  master,  who  must  remain  on  the  bridge  by 
day  and  by  night,  and  whose  slightest  relaxation 
may  lose  his  ship.  But  he  saved  her. 


L1V 
QUITE  INTERESTING 

THE  following  brief  and  spirited  narrative  was 
related  by  the  master  of  the  steamship  Haverford, 
upon  reporting  his  arrival  at  an  English  port  on 
June  13th,  1917  : 

The  voyage,  which  was  uneventful  until  we 
approached  the  coast,  became  quite  interesting 
when  we  saw  a  submarine  on  the  surface  some 
distance  away.  Unfortunately,  we  had  no  oppor- 
tunity of  demonstrating  our  ability  with  the  gun, 
because  our  escort,  which  was  more  advantageously 
armed,  opened  fire,  and  the  submarine  dived. 

About  four  and  a  half  hours  later,  the  look-out 
in  the  crow's-nest  and  the  gunlayer  aft  both 
reported  "  torpedo  on  starboard  quarter."  The 
second  officer,  who  was  in  charge  of  the  watch, 
acted  promptly,  ordering  the  helm  hard  a- 
starboard.  The  torpedo  passed  under  the  stern, 
and  so  close  to  the  ship  along  the  port  side  that 
we  put  the  helm  the  other  way  for  fear  of  taking 
the  torpedo  on  our  port  bow. 

The  look-out  man  and  the  gunner  had  previ- 
ously been  rioted  for  their  vigilance.  I  cannot 
speak  too  highly  of  the  presence  of  mind  and 
effective  right  action,  at  the  critical  moment, 
of  the  second  officer. 

284 


QUITE   INTERESTING  285 

Our  escort,  upon  leaving  us,  semaphored 
"  Good-bye  and  good  luck.  I  hope  you  will 
always  be  as  skilful  and  lucky  in  dodging  them." 

I  consider  myself  exceedingly  fortunate  in 
having  that  skilful  assistance  which  enables  me 
to  report  our  safe  arrival ;  and  I  am  proud,  but 
not  surprised,  to  report  that  the  crew  to  a  man 
maintained  the  best  tradition  of  the  service. 

So  much  for  the  master's  account  of  the 
matter.  Those  who  are  acquainted  with  the 
narratives  of  the  Elizabethan  seamen  will  recog- 
nise the  right  English  ring  of  the  same  metal. 
We  had  thought  the  trick  of  it  was  lost,  and 
marvelled  at  the  Elizabethan  accomplishment. 
But  now  it  seems  that  the  old  fire  was  but 
smothered  under  the  ashes  of  modern  commer- 
cialism, dead  to  all  but  money-making  ;  that  the 
business  of  shoving  a  ship  from  port  to  port 
and  back  again  to  make  profits  for  shareholders, 
had  killed  the  spirit  of  the  sea.  But  when  it 
comes  to  fighting,  and  the  huckster  takes  second 
place,  the  ancient  pride  shines  forth  again. 

The  master  of  the  Haverford  says  nothing  of 
the  five  hours'  vigil  between  the  first  attack 
and  the  second.  Only  those  who  have  stood  on 
deck,  staring  at  the  troubled  and  secret  water, 
know  in  what  the  stress  consists.  If  it  were 
always  possible  to  sight  the  enemy  before  he 
attacked,  or  even  to  sight  the  torpedo,  the 
suspense  would  be  strain  enough.  But  the 
watchers  know  that  the  ship  may  be  struck  at 
any  moment,  without  a  premonitory  sign. 


LV 
SHORT  AND  SHARP 

EARLY  in  the  morning  of  June  12th,  1917,  the 
steamship  Quillota,  approaching  the  entrance  to 
the  English  Channel,  was  firing  steadily  at  a 
long,  low,  humped  target  some  six  miles  distant. 
It  was  a  large  submarine  ;  from  her  belched 
flame  and  smoke,  and  her  projectiles,  striking 
the  sea  astern  of  the  Quillota,  threw  up  white 
fountains.  The  guns  crashed,  the  ship  shook  as 
she  sped,  and  the  fountains  danced  in  her  wake, 
for  a  wild  ten  minutes.  Then  the  gunner  of  the 
Quillota  saw  his  target  diminish  and  presently 
disappear.  The  submarine  had  dived.  The 
Quillota  was  untouched. 

Presently,  the  master  descried  three  boats 
adrift  and  full  of  people,  all  that  was  left  of  some 
tall  ship.  The  first  duty  of  a  master  in  times  of 
piracy  is,  not  to  save  others  but,  to  save  his 
ship.  For  all  the  master  of  the  Quillota  knew, 
a  submarine  was  lurking  near  the  boats,  ready 
to  fire  a  torpedo  into  the  Quillota  did  she  stay 
to  pick  them  up .  Such  is  the  custom  of  the  pirates . 

So  the  master  of  the  Quillota  had  no  choice 
but  to  hold  on.  He  sent  a  wireless  message; 
received  an  answer ;  and  presently  two  of  his 
Majesty's  ships  came  foaming  along.  They 


286 


SHORT  AND  SHARP  287 

up  the  boats,  and  one  of  them  came  after 
the  Quillota  and  escorted  her  upon  her  way. 

Here  is  an  instance  of  the  whole  organisation 
working  to  the  defeat  of  the  enemy.  The  sub- 
marine is  beaten  off  by  gun-fire ;  the  ship, 
escaping,  avoids  a  trap,  and  calls  for  succour, 
which  promptly  arrives. 

The  affair  of  the  Indian  is  another  affair  of 
successful  tactics.  She  also  was  approaching  the 
entrance  to  the  Channel,  early  in  the  morning 
of  June  12th,  1917.  There  was  a  radiant  sky, 
with  a  southerly  wind,  and  all  on  deck  were 
keeping  a  strict  look-out. 

The  master  descried  among  the  sparkling, 
luminous  run  of  sea,  a  patch  or  stain.  The 
helm  was  put  over  and  the  emergency  signal 
rung  down  to  the  engine-room.  As  the  ship 
went  about  the  master  saw  the  trail  of  a  torpedo 
lengthening  from  the  piece  of  discoloured  water. 
It  was  travelling  directly  towards  the  position 
occupied  by  the  ship  before  the  helm  was  put 
over,  and  passed  astern  of  her. 

The  gunners,  looking  out  aft,  presently  sighted 
the  submarine  emerging  some  three  miles  away, 
and  opened  fire  upon  her.  The  enemy  fired  in 
return,  then,  dropping  swiftly  astern,  was  speedily 
lost  to  view. 

The  master  sent  a  wireless  message,  and  held 
on.  After  about  an  hour,  a  vessel  of  the  United 
States  Navy  hove  into  view,  went  by  at  full  speed 
and  presently  disappeared. 

The  master  of  the  Indian  heard  the  distant 
sound  of  firing. 


LVI 
MIXING  IT 

WHEN  the  master  of  the  Palma,  on  the  after- 
noon of  June  18th,  1917,  sighted  the  track  of  a 
torpedo,  the  ship  was  off  the  north  coast  of 
Ireland.  He  put  the  helm  over  and  stopped 
the  port  engine.  The  torpedo,  which,  approach- 
ing the  starboard  beam,  must  have  been  fired 
from  an  invisible  submarine  from  starboard, 
passed  close  under  the  stern  of  the  ship.  At  the 
same  moment,  while  the  ship  was  swinging  to 
her  helm,  the  master  saw  a  periscope  away  to 
port  and  coming  towards  the  vessel,  indicating  a 
second  submarine.  She  fired  a  torpedo,  which 
also  passed  under  the  stern  of  the  Palma.  Here, 
then,  was  a  double  attack. 

The  next  moment,  the  periscope  of  the  sub- 
marine coming  towards  the  port  side  passed 
under  the  stern  so  close  to  the  rudder  that  the 
gunners  stationed  aft  told  the  master  they  could 
have  hung  their  caps  on  it.  In  the  meantime, 
the  submarine  which  had  fired  a  torpedo  from  the 
starboard  side  fired  a  second  torpedo  as  she  steered 
for  the  ship,  and  then  met  the  port  side  submarine 
under  the  Palma' s  stern.  The  master  thinks  that 
they  must  have  collided  with  each  other. 


23S 


MIXING    IT  289 

While  the  two  submarines  were  entangled 
under  the  stern  of  the  Palma,  the  three  torpedoes 
they  had  discharged  were  plunging  about  in  her 
wake. 

So  close  under  the  stern  were  the  submarines 
that  the  gunners  stationed  aft  in  the  Palma  could 
not  at  first  depress  the  gun  low  enough  to  get  the 
sights  on  them  ;  then,  as  the  ship  went  forward 
and  the  submarines  dropped  astern,  the  gunners 
opened  fire  on  them.  For  the  first  few  rounds 
they  sighted  on  the  hull  of  one  submarine,  which 
then  disappeared.  After  the  sixth  round  nothing 
was  visible.  Nor  was  the  Palma  again  troubled. 

Here  was  a  double  attack  smartly  defeated, 
with  what  seems  to  have  been  loss  to  the  enemy. 
The  manoeuvre  by  means  of  which  the  two  sub- 
marines, by  simultaneously  attacking,  one  on 
either  side  of  the  ship,  proposed  to  ensure  her 
destruction,  was  frustrated  by  the  master's 
prompt  use  of  helm  and  engine. 


LVII 
SHORT  AND  SWEET 

ON  June  20th,  1917,  the  Valeria  was  in  the 
danger  zone  off  the  west  coast  of  Ireland.  It 
was  three  o'clock  in  the  morning.  In  the  colour- 
less light  of  the  dawn  heralding  sunrise,  the  sea  was 
heaving  in  a  long  slow  swell.  The  master  and  the 
second  officer  were  on  watch.  There  came  a 
shock  that  vibrated  throughout  the  ship  ;  the 
second  officer,  leaning  over  the  starboard  rail 
of  the  bridge,  shouted  to  the  master,  who  ran 
across  the  bridge  from  the  port  side.  Both 
officers  looked  down  upon  a  troubled  patch  of 
water,  whence,  with  a  hissing  sound  and  a  pungent 
odour,  there  streamed  the  burnt  gas  from  the 
exhausts  of  a  submarine. 

As  the  ship,  steaming  at  eleven  knots,  drew 
clear  of  the  rising  submarine,  the  gunners 
stationed  aft  rang  through  to  the  bridge,  signalling 
that  they  had  sighted  the  enemy.  The  sub- 
marine lay  athwart  the  course  of  the  Vakria, 
about  100  yards  away.  Her  periscope  was 
broken  off  and  she  was  consequently  blind. 

The  chief  gunner  swiftly  depressed  his  gun  and 
fired.  There  was  a  loud  explosion,  flinging  up 


'290 


SHORT  AND   SWEET  291 

a  fountain  of  water  mingled  with  thick  vapour, 
and  the  gunners  signalled  a  hit  to  the  master. 
He  ordered  them  to  continue  firing.  The  second 
shot  was  a  miss,  the  third  struck  the  base  of  the 
conning  tower.  Then  the  submarine  settled  down 
and  sank. 

On  the  surface,  large  bubbles  continually 
formed  and  broke  ;  and  the  men  of  the  Valeria, 
as  the  ship  receded  from  the  place,  still  marked 
the  bubbles  rising  and  vanishing ;  until,  as  the 
Valeria  went  on  her  way  at  full  speed,  there  was 
nothing  save  the  long  slow  swell  of  the  sea,  shining 
in  the  level  rays  of  the  summer  dawn. 


u  2 


LVIII 
THE  ESCAPE  OF  THE  "NITRONIAN" 

WHEN  the  master  of  the  Nitronian  sighted  the 
submarine,  he  altered  course,  putting  the  enemy 
astern,  ordered  utmost  speed,  sent  a  wireless 
message  and  gave  the  gunners  the  alert.  Between 
the  time  when  the  submarine  was  descried  and 
the  moment  she  fired  was  an  interval  of  two 
minutes.  In  that  interval,  the  whole*  ship  was 
prepared,  all  firemen  off  duty  went  into  the  stoke- 
hold, and  two  quartermasters  took  the  wheel. 

It  was  about  half-past  eleven  on  the  morning 
of  June  20th,  and  the  ship  was  approaching  the 
west  coast  of  Ireland.  She  carried  a  very 
valuable  cargo.  It  was  clear  grey  weather 
with  a  north-easterly  breeze  and  a  run  of  sea. 

The  first  shot  fired  by  the  submarine  fell  short 
of  the  Nitronian,  whose  gunners  instantly  replied. 
But  the  enemy  kept  out  of  range  of  the  gun  of 
the  Nitronian,  manoeuvring  to  get  between  the 
ship  and  the  shore  and  so  to  cut  her  off  from  help. 

Firing  on  both  sides  continued  for  twenty 
minutes,  when  a  shell  pierced  the  deck  of  the 
Nitronian,  setting  fire  to  some  bales  of  cotton 
sweepings,  stowed  in  No.  1  hold. 

The  master  saw  smoke  coming  from  the  hold, 

292 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  THE  "NITRONIAN"  293 

but  as  all  the  men  on  deck  were  passing  ammuni- 
tion to  the  gunners,  there  was  none  to  spare  to 
extinguish  the  fire,  so  the  master  let  it  alone  and 
hoped  for  the  best.  He  did  not  know  at  the 
moment  that  the  shell  had  also  smashed  a  steam 
pipe,  so  that  in  any  case  the  pumps  could  not  be 
put  on  until  the  pipe  was  repaired. 

The  ship  was  now  heading  westward  ;  shells 
were  falling  close  about  her,  and  her  gun  could  not 
reach  the  enemy.  Thereupon  the  master  used 
his  smoke-boxes. 

A  black  vapour  rolled  upon  the  water ;  and 
behind  that  dusky  shield,  the  master  of  the 
Nitronian  fled  with  his  eight  thousand  tons  of 
precious  cargo,  fifty-five  lives  of  men,  and  his 
great  ship  in  which  a  fire  smouldered.  There  was 
scant  hope  of  escape  ;  but  there  was  a  chance. 

Under  cover  of  the  thick  smoke  the  master 
held  on  for  half  an  hour  ;  and  when  it  thinned 
the  submarine  had  drawn  nearer,  so  near  that 
she  was  within  range. 

The  gunners  of  the  Nitronian  instantly  opened 
fire  again,  the  sixth  shot  narrowly  missing  the 
submarine,  which  promptly  went  about,  retreated 
at  full  speed,  dived,  and  was  no  more  seen. 

Soon  afterwards  one  of  his  Majesty's  ships 
escorted  the  Nitronian  into  harbour,  where  the 
fire  was  put  out.  The  Nitronian  sailed  again  and 
safely  arrived  at  her  port  of  destination. 

Ship  and  cargo  and  men  had  been  saved  by 
the  judgment,  skilled  seamanship  and  constancy 
of  the  master,  supported  by  the  excellent  con- 
duct of  the  crew,  of  whom  "  the  master  speaks 
in  the  highest  possible  terms." 


LIX 
THE  DANGER  ZONE 

THE  steamship  Cavour,  mounting  a  gun,  was 
escorting  the  steamship  Clifftoiver,  which  was 
unarmed,  home  from  a  South  American  port. 
On  July  8th,  1917,  when  the  two  ships  were  off 
the  Lizard,  the  Clifftower  keeping  station  about 
a  mile  astern  of  the  Cavour,  the  Clifftower  signalled 
that  she  was  being  attacked  by  a  submarine. 
The  master  of  the  Cavour  put  his  helm  over,  and, 
steaming  broad  off  the  starboard  bow  of  his 
convoy,  saw  the  enemy  lying  close  to  her  star- 
board quarter. 

Putting  the  Cavour  about,  the  master  ordered 
the  gunners  to  open  fire.  The  first  shot  burst 
over  the  bows  of  the  submarine,  the  second  close 
to  her,  and  then  she  submerged. 

In  the  meantime,  wireless  messages  had  been 
sent  from  both  vessels.  The  smoke  of  a  destroyer 
was  already  in  sight ;  and  within  ten  minutes, 
she  came  tearing  along  at  full  speed,  eased  down, 
and  circled  about  the  place  where  the  submarine 
had  been,  while  the  Cavour  and  the  Clifftoiver 
made  haste  to  depart. 


•J'.M 


THE   DANGER  ZONE  295 

A  few  minutes  later  a  speck  appeared  in  the 
sky,  low  down,  grew  momently  larger,  and 
presently  an  airship  glided  over  the  destroyer 
and  hovered  there. 

That  was  the  last  the  two  escaping  ships  saw 
of  the  affair  ;  the  long  black  destroyer,  the  smoke, 
the  vigilant  silver  fish  floating  poised,  watching, 
in  the  empyrean  .  .  .  And  the  master  of  the 
Cavour  observes  that  "  there  would  appear  to  be 
a  possibility  of  the  submarine  having  been 
destroyed." 


LX 
EECEIVING  VISITORS 

HERE  is  the  description  of  a  late  type  of 
German  submarine,  contributed  by  a  British 
master  who  profited  by  a  singular  opportunity 
of  surveying  the  vessel  at  disagreeably  close 
quarters. 

She  was  about  150  feet  in  length,  having  one 
gun  mounted  aft,  and  two  torpedo-tubes  fitted  in 
the  bows  outside  the  main  structure.  She  carried 
a  wire  over  all,  which  appeared  to  have  wireless 
aerials  rigged  to  it.  She  had  a  semi-circular 
steel  dodger  for  a  conning  tower.  No 
periscopes  were  visible.  Lashed  down  on  the 
after  deck  were  a  boat  and  a  raft.  She  was 
painted  light  grey  above  the  water  and  chocolate 
colour  below,  and  carried  no  mark,  nor  number 
nor  flag.  She  was  very  easy  to  handle  and  of 
high  speed. 

The  master,  when  he  took  note  of  the  pirate 
vessel,  was  sitting  alongside  her  in  his  boat,  con- 
versing with  the  commanding  officer  of  the  sub- 
marine, who  had  just  torpedoed  the  master's 
ship.  She  had  been  badly  damaged,  but  had 
righted  herself.  The  German  officer,  with  seven 


•J'.'C 


RECEIVING    VISITORS  297 

men,  embarked  in  the  master's  boat  and  ordered 
the  crew  to  pull  them  over  to  the  ship. 

While  the  German  sailors  were  about  dis- 
mounting the  ship's  gun,  the  German  officer 
invited  the  master  to  accompany  him  into  the 
chart  room,  where  the  German  took  possession 
of  the  charts,  and  thence  into  the  master's  cabin. 

Now  the  master,  by  reason  of  the  effect  upon 
him  of  the  tremendous  shock  of  the  explosion 
and  of  some  very  distressing  consequences 
thereof,  had  forgotten  to  destroy  his  confidential 
papers  before  leaving  the  ship.  These  were  con- 
tained in  a  bag,  and  the  bag  was  on  the  seat  of 
the  master's  chair. 

Upon  entering  his  cabin,  the  master,  with 
great  presence  of  mind,  sat  down  on  his  papers 
(like  the  miser  who  used  to  warm  his  dinner  by 
sitting  upon  it).  There  he  was  glued,  while 
the  German  officer  plied  him  with  leading  ques- 
tions concerning  the  position  of  mine  fields,  and 
appropriated  the  ship's  chronometers  and  other 
articles  which  took  his  fancy.  In  the  meantime, 
the  master  became  aware  that  the  German 
sailors  were  also  pillaging  the  ship. 

It  is  remarkable  that  the  German  officer  did 
not  ask  for  the  confidential  papers,  usually  the  first 
demand  of  German  submarine  officers.  When  the 
German,  in  the  course  of  his  researches,  turned 
his  back,  the  master  smuggled  the  bag  of  papers 
under  his  overcoat,  and  strolled  towards  the  door. 
But  the  German  was  alongside  him  in  a  moment. 

"  I  come  mit  you,  my  friend,"  said  the  German  ; 
whereupon  the  master  loitered  back  to  his  chair 
and  sat  down  again,  as  though  in  an  extremity 


298    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN  WAR 

of  fatigue.  The  German  continued  amiably  to 
fill  his  pockets,  and  again  the  master,  as  though 
in  absence  of  mind,  edged  towards  the  door,  and 
again  the  German  was  elbow  to  elbow  with  him. 

Then  the  master  tried  again,  and  then  again, 
and  the  same  thing  happened.  By  that  time, 
the  German  officer,  finding  nothing  more  he 
wanted,  suggested  they  should  go  on  deck.  The 
master,  as  a  last  resource,  dropped  his  overcoat, 
in  which  the  bag  was  concealed,  over  the  chair, 
and  so  left  it. 

The  German  sailors,  having  placed  bombs 
forward  in  the  ship,  and  loaded  the  master's 
boat  with  stores  and  gear,  embarked  in  her, 
followed  by  the  German  officer  and  the  master. 
As  they  drew  clear  of  the  ship,  the  bombs 
exploded,  but  the  vessel  remained  afloat.  When 
the  master's  boat  had  been  sent  adrift  by  the  sub- 
marine officer,  the  master  saw  the  submarine, 
after  firing  into  the  ship,  go  alongside  her.  The 
submarine  remained  under  the  ship's  quarter 
for  about  two  hours,  but  at  the  distance  his  boat 
lay  from  the  ship  the  master  could  not  see 
whether  or  not  the  Germans  went  aboard  again. 

So  they  may  have  obtained  the  papers,  or  they 
may  not.  Life  may  be  stranger  than  fiction, 
but  it  is  not  nearly  so  satisfactory ;  for  what 
teller  of  tales  but  would  have  depicted  the 
German  as  completely  outwitted  by  the  British 
seaman  ?  Truth  is  an  austere  mistress.  And 
yet  she  is  kind,  too  ;  for  she  will  have  us  to  know 
that  the  British  seaman  is  getting  the  upper 
hand  of  the  outlaw  of  the  sea,  and  permits  us  to 
be  very  sure  that  he  will  keep  it. 


LXI 
THE  MASTER  OF  THE  "NELSON" 

SOMETIMES  a  name  is  like  a  flag,  a  symbol  to 
hearten  and  to  clench  defiance.  The  smack  was 
called  the  Nelson.  She  was  a  fishing  vessel, 
fitted  with  an  auxiliary  motor,  and  mounting  a 
gun.  Her  master  wrote  R.N.R.  after  his  name. 

Upon  an  August  afternoon,  he  shot  the  trawl 
and  put  the  Nelson  on  the  port  tack.  Then  he 
went  below  to  pack  fish,  leaving  a  hand  on  deck 
who  was  busy  cleaning  fish  for  to-morrow's 
breakfast. 

Presently  the  master,  returning  to  the  deck, 
sighted  a  distant  craft,  stared  at  it  intently,  sent 
for  his  glasses,  and  stared  at  it  again.  Then  he 
sang  out : 

"  Clear  for  action  !     Submarine  !  " 

A  shell  struck  up  a  fountain  about  a  hundred 
yards  away  on  the  port  bow.  The  man  who  was 
cleaning  fish  ran  to  the  ammunition  room,  the 
engineer  went  to  his  motor,  and  the  rest  of  the 
men  let  go  the  warp,  putting  a  dan  on  the  end  of 
it  in  order  to  be  able  to  pick  up  the  trawl  after- 
wards. The  master  took  the  helm. 

299 


300     THE   MERCHANT   SEAMAN   IN   WAR 

The  distant  submarine  continued  to  fire.  The 
Nelson  was  outranged,  but  the  master,  watching 
the  shells  striking  near  about  the  smack,  gave 
the  order  to  return  the  fire. 

"  No  use  waiting  any  longer,"  said  the  master. 
"  Let  them  have  it." 

The  gunner  did  his  best,  but  his  shots  fell 
hopelessly  short.  The  fourth  round  fired  by  the 
submarine  went  through  the  bows  of  the  smack 
below  the  waterline.  The  master  put  the  smack 
about  to  get  the  submarine  astern. 

At  the  seventh  round  fired  by  the  submarine, 
the  shell  struck  the  master,  tearing  a  piece  out 
of  his  side,  pierced  the  deck  and  passed  out  of  the 
smack  through  her  side.  As  the  master  fell,  his 
son  took  the  wheel.  The  smack  was  sinking 
under  their  feet. 

The  gunner  tried  to  give  first  aid  to  the  master, 
but  he  was  beyond  mortal  help. 

"  It's  all  right,  boy.  Do  your  best  with  the 
gun,"  said  the  master ;  and  he  called  to  the 
second  hand  to  send  a  message.  The  second 
hand  wrote  at  the  dying  man's  dictation,  and 
this  was  what  he  wrote  : — 

"  Nelson  being  attacked  by  submarine.  Skipper 
killed.  Send  assistance  at  once." 

The  paper  was  attached  to  the  pigeon,  and  the 
bird  carried  the  news  of  a  man's  death,  sent  by 
the  man  himself. 

The  smack  was  settling  down  ;  there  were  left 
but  five  rounds  of  ammunition  ;  and  the  second 
hand  went  to  the  skipper  lying  there  on  the  deck 
and  heard  him  say  : 

"  Abandon    ship.    Throw    the    books    over- 


THE   MASTER  OF    THE   "NELSON"    301 

board."  He  meant  his  confidential  papers,  and 
it  was  done. 

He  was  asked  then  if  they  should  lift  him  into 
the  boat,  but  his  answer  was  : 

"  Tom,  I'm  done.    Throw  me  overboard." 

But  he  was  so  dreadfully  wounded  that  they 
dared  not  try  to  move  him  ;  and  they  left  him 
where  he  lay  on  the  deck,  which  was  level  with 
the  water,  embarked  in  the  boat,  and  lay  off, 
waiting  for  the  end.  The  dusk  was  gathering, 
and  there  was  a  great  stillness,  for  the  submarine 
had  gone  away. 

About  a  quarter  of  an  hour  afterwards,  the 
Nelson,  her  colours  flying,  went  down  with  her 
master. 

The  rest  of  the  crew  pulled  towards  England 
all  that  night.  Towards  morning,  the  wind 
freshened  and  blew  them  out  of  their  course. 
They  hoisted  a  pair  of  trousers  and  a  piece  of 
oilskin  on  two  oars  as  a  signal  of  distress,  and 
rowed  all  that  day  in  heavy  weather,  and  all  that 
night  until  the  dawn.  By  that  time  the  wind 
and  sea  had  gone  down ;  and  they  sighted  a 
buoy  and  made  fast  to  it,  and  lay  there  until  the 
afternoon,  when  they  were  rescued. 

The  name  of  the  master  of  the  Nelson  was 
Thomas  Crisp,  R.N.K.,  and  his  Majesty  the  King 
was  graciously  pleased  to  approve  of  the  (post- 
humous) award  to  Skipper  Thomas  Crisp  of  the 
Victoria  Cross. 


ENVOY 

IN  making  this  book,  it  has  been  the  author's 
purpose  to  delineate  in  simple  outline  the  deeds 
and  hardihood  of  the  officers  and  men  of  the 
Merchant  Service.  Out  of  hundreds  of  examples, 
those  instances  have  been  selected  which  are 
typical  of  many  others  chronicled  in  the  records. 

The  British  seaman,  and  not  only  the  British 
seaman  but  the  seamen  of  other  nationalities 
who  serve  in  the  British  Merchant  Service,  are 
to-day  what  they  have  always  been :  unconquer- 
able, tenacious,  silent,  infinitely  patient,  Long 
before  the  war,  the  present  writer,  pondering 
upon  the  men  of  the  sea,  dreamed  of  a  time 
when  they  should  enter  upon  their  part  of  that 
heritage  of  wealth  which  for  centuries  they  have 
toiled  and  endured,  sweated  and  frozen,  to  get 
for  others  ;  when  they  should  earn  share  as  well 
as  wage,  and  be  sure  of  steady  and  highly-paid 
employment  in  well-found  ships,  and  a  snug 
pension  when  their  seafaring  days  are  done. 

The  sea  service  should  be,  but  is  not,  a  chief 
pride  of  England.  Upon  the  sea  service  she 
should  delight  to  lavish  care  and  bounty.  Now 
that  her  hoards  of  money  have  been  taken  away 


302 


ENVOY  303 

from  her,  perhaps  England  m#y  discern  with  a. 
purged  vision   the  things  that  belong  to   her 
honour. 

The  merchant  seaman  in  the  war  has  proved  his 
title  to  praise  and  to  his  part  in  wealth.  But  he 
did  that  long  ago.  Now  he  has  proved  it  again. 
But,  unless  the  present  writer  is  mistaken,  the 
merchant  seaman  has  now  learned  what  is  his 
due,  and  when  the  time  comes  he  will  refuse  to 
be  put  off,  and  will  claim  it.  But  there  should 
be  no  need  to  make  the  demand.  .  .  . 

For  now  is  the  time  to  establish  the  Imperial 
Transport  Service,  in  which  the  State  and  the 
shipowner  make  common  cause. 

There  is  a  road  runs  broad  from  the  docks  into 
the  heart  of  the  East  End,  and  that  is  the  road 
the  seaman  walks  when  he  lands  in  Port  of 
London.  The  deck-hands  and  the  firemen  tramp 
along  the  foul  pavement,  feeling  the  whole  earth 
solid  under  their  boot-soles  because  it  does  not 
lift  to  the  sea,  with  their  pockets  full  of  money, 
and  their  hearts  burning  with  the  lust  of  life 
known  to  the  wandering  exile.  So  they  come  to  a 
place  where  two  roads  meet ;  a  place  of  squalid 
shops  and  foreign  smells  and  filthy  public-houses, 
infamous  kens  and  the  trulls  of  the  causeway. 
The  money  is  out  in  a  week,  sometimes  in  a 
night,  and  the  man  is  lucky  if  his  head  be  not 
broken,  and  then  he  signs  on  once  more.  And 
that  is  what  Port  of  London  does  for  the  merchant 
seaman. 

But  happily  that  is  not  all.  For,  at  that  place 
where  the  two  roads  meet,  the  British  and  Foreign 


304    THE  MERCHANT  SEAMAN  IN   WAR 

Sailors'  Society  has  built  a  home  for  the  men.  It 
is  an  example  and  a  beginning.  If  London  did 
what  London  ought  to  do,  her  governors  would 
abolish  some  square  miles  of  festering,  wicked 
private  property  and  build  a  new  Sailor  Town. 
Why  not  ?  And  why  not  do  the  same  in  every 
port? 

In  conclusion,  the  present  writer  desires  to 
express  his  gratitude  to  those  naval  officers 
at  the  Admiralty  who,  in  the  midst  of  their 
own  unremitting  labours,  have  so  courteously 
and  kindly  helped  him  in  his  task. 

L.  C.  C. 

LONDON, 

November,  1917. 


PRINTKD   IN  GREAT  URITAIN   BY   R.   CLAY  AND  SONS,   LTD., 
HRLNSJWICK    STRE1CT,    STA.MluKU    .SIKKI.T,    B.X.    I,    AND   HUNGAY,   SVlTol.K. 


RETURN     CIRCULATION  DEPARTMENT 
TO—*-     202  Main  Library 


LOAN  PERIOD  1 
HOME  USE 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

RENEWALS:  CALL  (415)  642-3405 


DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


ULU 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 
FORM  NO.  DD6,  60m,  1  /83          BERKELEY,  CA  94720 


LD  21-100m-8,'34 


U.C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 

I1I1PII 

CQ2105Mb7fl 


394300 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY