Fig. 11.—Diagram to Illustrate Approximate Movements of ‘Penshurst’ in her Action with Submarine on January 14, 1917.
Fig. 11.—Diagram to Illustrate Approximate Movements of ‘Penshurst’ in her Action with Submarine on January 14, 1917.
The first hit broke an awning ridge-pole onPenshurst’sbridge, the second shell struck the angle of the lower bridge, severing the engine-room telegraph connections and the pipe connecting the hydraulic release gear, by means of which the depth charge aft could be let go from the bridge. This shell also killed the gun-layer and loading-number of the 6-pounder, wounding its breech-worker and the signalman who was standing by to hoist the White Ensign. So at 4.24 p.m.Penshurstopened fire, herfirst shot from the 12-pounder hitting the base of the enemy’s conning-tower and causing a large explosion, as though the ammunition had been exploded. Large parts of the conning-tower were seen to be blown away, and a big volume of black smoke arose. The second British shot from this gun hit the enemy a little abaft the conning-tower and also visibly damaged the hull. The starboard 3-pounder hit the lower part of the conning-tower at least four times, and then the enemy sank by the stern.Penshurstwanted to make sure, so steamed ahead and dropped depth charges over her, then picked up her boats and made for Portland, where she arrived at ten o’clock that evening and sent her wounded to the Naval Hospital. It had been another excellent day’s work, for UB 37, one of those modern craft fitted with net-cutters forward for the purpose of cutting a way through the Dover Straits barrage, had been definitely destroyed without a single survivor. More rewards followed, and, later on, more prize bounty.
Penshurstresumed her cruising, and just about a month later she was in the western approach to the English Channel, the exact date being February 20, and the position Lat. 49.21 N., Long. 6.16 W. At 12.36 p.m. a German submarine rose to the surface, and a quarter of an hour later began firing at a range of 3,000 yards.Penshurstthen ‘abandoned’ ship, and at 1.4 p.m. opened fire and scored a hit with her 6-pounder. At 100 yards range the other guns came into action, and the enemy was hit above the waterline in the centre of the conning-tower and abaft this superstructure. She then submerged and was depth-charged; yet this submarine, in spite of all this, was not sunk. This again illustrated the statement already made that a submarine could be severelyholed and yet be able to get back home. A still more illuminating example is to be found in the following incident.
Only two days had elapsed andPenshurstwas again busily engaged. It was at 11.34 a.m., February 22, and the ship was off the south coast of Ireland, the exact position being Lat. 51.56 N., Long. 6.46 W.Penshurstwas steering S. 89 W. when she saw a submarine steering west. The steam-ship therefore steamed at her utmost speed, but could not get up to her, for we may as well mention that this was U 84, a very up-to-date submarine which had a surface speed of 16 knots and could do her 9 knots submerged for a whole hour. It is not to be wondered, therefore, that she could run away from this slow steamer and at 11.55 a.m. disappear. At this time there was in sight 8 miles away H.M.S.Alyssum, one of Admiral Bayly’s sloops based on Queenstown, who was escorting the large four-masted S.S.Canadian. AsPenshurstproceeded, she sighted at 12.18 p.m. a boat with men in it, these being from the torpedoed sailing shipInvercauld, which had been sunk 22 miles S.E. of Mine Head, Ireland, that same day. A few minutes later andPenshurstobserved the keel of this ship floating bottom up. At 12.35 the periscopes of U 84 were seen to emerge 400 yards on the port beam, and the track of a torpedo making straight for the midships ofPenshurst. By at once starboarding the helm, disaster was avoided, but the torpedo passed as close as 15 feet.
Q-ship “Penshurst”In this dummy boat mounted on the main hatch is seen hidden the 12-pounder gun. The sides of the boat were movable. The voice pipe from the bridge to the two after guns was lashed to the derrick and thus hidden from the enemy.
Q-ship “Penshurst”
In this dummy boat mounted on the main hatch is seen hidden the 12-pounder gun. The sides of the boat were movable. The voice pipe from the bridge to the two after guns was lashed to the derrick and thus hidden from the enemy.
Q-ship “Penshurst”This shows how the concealed 12-pounder gun could be brought into action by removing the boat’s sides. The bow end of the boat has been moved to the far side of the gun, where Captain Grenfell, attired in his “mystery” rig of a master mariner, is seen standing. As will be seen from the other photograph, the sides of the boat when in position were a perfect fit. The coil of rope was intended to hide the gun’s pedestal from observation by the enemy.To face p. 120
Q-ship “Penshurst”
This shows how the concealed 12-pounder gun could be brought into action by removing the boat’s sides. The bow end of the boat has been moved to the far side of the gun, where Captain Grenfell, attired in his “mystery” rig of a master mariner, is seen standing. As will be seen from the other photograph, the sides of the boat when in position were a perfect fit. The coil of rope was intended to hide the gun’s pedestal from observation by the enemy.
To face p. 120
The Q-ship then altered course to E. ½ S. as though running away, and reduced to half speed to allow the enemy to come up. Boats were turned out, the panic party stood by with lifebelts on, and just after one o’clock, at 3,500 yards range, the U-boat opened fire,whereupon the Q-ship ‘abandoned’ ship. Then the enemy closed to 1,500 yards on the starboard bow, but cautiously submerged, and then, closely and leisurely, inspected the ship from the periscope. Having done that, and apparently been quite satisfied that this was no trap-ship, the submarine emerged on the port quarter, 600 yards away and broadside on. One German officer then came out of the conning-tower and two other men looked out of the hatch. The first then shouted for the captain to come alongside with the ship’s papers, but the British petty officer in charge of the boat party, in order to gain valuable time, ingeniously pretended not to understand. The German then repeated his order, so the petty officer replied he would bring the boat round by the stern, the intention, of course, secretly being for the purpose of affordingPenshursta clear range.
The petty officer’s crew had not rowed more than three strokes when bang wentPenshurst’sguns, at which the German officer leapt through the hatch of his conning-tower, a shot hitting the after part of this superstructure just as the officer disappeared. Two more shells got home in the centre, another hit the hull abaft the conning-tower and burst, one holing the hull below the conning-tower’s base. The submarine dived, but after a few minutes her bows came up out of the water at a steep angle. Fire was then reopened at her, and one shot was seen to go through her side, and then once more she submerged. Two depth charges were dropped near the spot and exploded, and then again the bows of the enemy broke surface at a steep angle, but 3,000 yards to the westward. Next the after deck came to the surface, and all the crew came out and lined the deck.Penshurstresumed shelling, hit her again, but U 84 nowreturned the fire. She was a big submarine, 230 feet long, armed with a 4·1-inch and a 22-pounder, and a dozen torpedoes which could be fired from six tubes.
But now approached H.M.S.Alyssumfrom the north and began to shell the enemy, so that the latter made off to the southward. The speed ofPenshurstwas 8 knots—that is to say, about half that of the enemy. Nor could the sloop overtake the latter, who, after being chased for three hours, disappeared at 5.12 p.m. These sloops had been built for mine-sweeping work, and not as anti-submarine ships, and it was only because of the shortage of destroyers—thanks largely to the demands in this respect by the Grand Fleet—that these single-screwed, comparatively slow vessels were engaged on escort and patrol duties.
In this engagement between the Q-ship and submarine everything had been done that could have been brought about by a most experienced, skilful, and determined British officer. His guns had kept on hitting, and yet the enemy had escaped. Fortunately we now know the story from the enemy’s side, as an account of this incident was published in the German Press, and bears out all that has been said above. The German version mentions that U 84 took the British ship for a tank steamer. This is not in the least surprising, for thePenshurstwas one of those small ships with her engines aft just as you see in an ‘oil-tanker,’ and such a craft was sure enough bait for any submarine. The Germans say the torpedo was fired at 765 yards range, and missed because the British ship was going ‘faster than we supposed.’ The Q-ship’s disguise was perfect, for it was not until she opened fire that she was suspectedof being a ‘trap.’ As to the latter’s shelling, the German account admits that the superstructure abaft the conning-tower was at once penetrated, and that hardly had the hatch been closed than ‘there is a sharp report in the conning-tower, a yellow flash, and explosive gases fill the air. A shell has penetrated the side of the conning-tower and exploded inside.’ The result was that one man was injured. She then dived, and at 65·6 feet they felt the two depth charges, which made the boat tremble and put out some of the electric lights. The forward hydroplane jammed, and this was the reason she came to the surface at such a steep angle. The gyro compass, the main rudder, the trimming pump, and all the control apparatus also broke down. But what about the leaks made by the shells? These were plugged, the tricolour flag of the French sailing shipBayonne, which they had sunk on February 17 in the English Channel, being also used for that purpose.
The German account goes on to say this submarine was now compelled to proceed on the surface and run away, and the numerous men then seen on her deck were engaged in bringing up ammunition, ‘all the men who are not occupied below’ being thus employed. The submarine at first tookAlyssumfor a destroyer, and certainly bow on she was not unlike one. It needs little imagination to realize how narrowly the enemy had escaped, and the moral effect which was made on the German crew. We know now that a German petty officer was killed and an officer wounded. It mattered little that the conning-tower was holed, for, as has been already pointed out, this is not an essential part of the submarine’s construction. By closing the hatch on deck no water could get down into the hull from here;and the other holes being also plugged, U 84 could thus get back home by keeping out to sea during daylight hours, avoiding our patrols, and passing headlands under cover of night.
A month laterPenshurstagain fought a sharp action under Commander Grenfell at the eastern end of the English Channel, the position being in Lat. 50.28 N., Long. 0.12 W. In this engagement she did not sink the enemy, but was herself badly damaged and so seriously holed that she had to be towed to Portsmouth the following day. Here she underwent a long refit, and then went forth to fight again and to fight, as ever, splendidly. She had a new commanding officer, Lieutenant Cedric Naylor, R.N.R., who had been second-in-command to Captain Grenfell, now invalided ashore, and this lieutenant well maintained the traditions of the Q-service, and added to the distinctions won by this wonderful ship. Oft in danger, but always emerging from the tightest of corners, leaving the enemy seriously wounded, the gallantPenshurstcarried on.
The Gallant Captain and Officers of Q-ship “Penshurst”From left to right: Paymaster-Lieut. W. R. Ashton, R.N.R.; Lieut. S. P. R. White, R.N.R.; Sub-Lieut. J. R. Stenhouse, R.N.R. (in command of the “Aurora” in Sir E. Shackleton’s Antarctic Expedition, 1914-15); Captain F. H. Grenfell, R.N.; Lieut. C. Naylor, R.N.R. (First Lieut.); and Lieut. W. S. Harrison, R.N.R. (Navigating Officer).
The Gallant Captain and Officers of Q-ship “Penshurst”
From left to right: Paymaster-Lieut. W. R. Ashton, R.N.R.; Lieut. S. P. R. White, R.N.R.; Sub-Lieut. J. R. Stenhouse, R.N.R. (in command of the “Aurora” in Sir E. Shackleton’s Antarctic Expedition, 1914-15); Captain F. H. Grenfell, R.N.; Lieut. C. Naylor, R.N.R. (First Lieut.); and Lieut. W. S. Harrison, R.N.R. (Navigating Officer).
Men of the Q ship “Penshurst”The ship’s gunlayers and carpenter. The man in the centre wearing service uniform was the gunlayer of the bridge 6-pounder who was killed in the action of January 14, 1917. The others are wearing their Q-ship “rig.”To face p. 124
Men of the Q ship “Penshurst”
The ship’s gunlayers and carpenter. The man in the centre wearing service uniform was the gunlayer of the bridge 6-pounder who was killed in the action of January 14, 1917. The others are wearing their Q-ship “rig.”
To face p. 124
On July 2 she was steaming her 8 knots, as usual, and was in the western approaches (Lat. 49.10 N., Long. 8.25 W.), when at 1.30 p.m. a submarine was seen crossing the ship’s bows 6,000 yards away. She dived and waited forPenshurstto approach in the manner of attack outlined in a previous chapter as being the tactics of a submarine. Then, after a while, the periscope was sighted 500 yards away on the port beam, soPenshurst, knowing a torpedo was imminent, waited, and, the torpedo having been sent, altered course to avoid it, just missing by a matter of 10 feet. The ship’s company then went to ‘panic’ stations and the ship was ‘abandoned.’ At 3.35 p.m. the enemy came to thesurface 5,000 yards away on the starboard quarter, at 3.39 p.m. opened fire and continued until 4.13 p.m., whenPenshurstherself started firing at 4,500 yards, succeeding in hitting the enemy sixteen times, and undoubtedly seriously damaging him. The submarine managed to pass out of range and was not sunk. Three destroyers now came on the scene and gave chase, but the German got away. For this engagement Lieutenant Naylor received the D.S.O.
In accordance withPenshurst’sprevious experience, not many weeks elapsed before she was again in combat. It was the following August 19, and she was cruising again in the western approaches. That morning a steamship had sighted a submarine, andPenshurst, who was now in Lat. 47.45 N., Long. 8.35 W., was steering S. 50 W., doing 8 knots, when she saw the enemy 6 miles ahead steering across the bows, evidently making the ‘approach’ in his tactics. There was little north-west wind, a moderate westerly swell, and the sky was clear, but there was a strong glare from the sun. At 5.8 p.m. the enemy dived, and Lieutenant Naylor estimated that she would probably attack with torpedo about 5.45 p.m. Exactly at 5.44 a torpedo was observed to break water 1,000 yards from the ship, 3 points on the starboard bow, just forward of the sun’s rays.Penshurstput her helm hard aport, and at 5.45 the torpedo struck her—but fortunately it was only a glancing blow immediately below the bridge. The smart handling of the ship had thus saved her from being struck further aft, where the consequences would have been even more serious. As it was, the explosion caused a high volume of water to rise in such quantities that upper and lower bridges and after deck were flooded, overwhelming the gun’s crew concealed there,and filling the starboard boat hanging in the davits over 70 feet away from the point of impact. Furthermore, it caused the ship to take a heavy list to starboard so that the sea poured in over the bulwarks, and she afterwards rolled to port, the water then pouring in on this side also.
Some of the crew were hurled with force against the ceiling of the cabins, but perfect discipline still continued, as might well be expected with such a well-tried crew. She had been torpedoed in No. 2 hold, the starboard side of the lower bridge had been stripped, and unfortunately the 12-pounder there kept screened was thus exposed. Unfortunately, too, the sides of the dummy boat amidships, which hid another 12-pounder, were thrown down by the explosion, thus exposing this gun, flooding the magazine, putting out of action all controls from the bridge as well as the ship’s compasses and so on. What was to be done now? Lieutenant Naylor wisely decided not to ‘abandon’ ship since the guns had been disclosed; the ship could not be manœuvred so as to hide this side, and the enemy would probably make another attack. She was therefore kept under way, the steering gear was connected up with the main steering engines, the wireless repaired, and at 5.58 a general signal was sent out to H.M. ships requesting assistance.
Fig. 12.—The Humorous Side of Q-ship Warfare.This amusing sketch ofPenshurst, by one of her officers, shows her being shelled by a submarine and the panic party in two boats rowing off. In the bows of each boat one of the crew is semaphoring.Bill(in boat No. 1): ‘’Arry!’’Arry(in boat No. 2): ‘What?’Bill(anxiously): ‘Did yer make the tea afore we left ‘er?’’Arry: ‘Nar!’Bill(much relieved): ‘Good!’
Fig. 12.—The Humorous Side of Q-ship Warfare.
This amusing sketch ofPenshurst, by one of her officers, shows her being shelled by a submarine and the panic party in two boats rowing off. In the bows of each boat one of the crew is semaphoring.Bill(in boat No. 1): ‘’Arry!’’Arry(in boat No. 2): ‘What?’Bill(anxiously): ‘Did yer make the tea afore we left ‘er?’’Arry: ‘Nar!’Bill(much relieved): ‘Good!’
At five minutes past six the submarine showed herself on the port quarter 6,000 yards away. This made things better, for if the enemy had not already observed the exposed guns she could still be kept in ignorance, as the sides of the false boat had in the meantime been replaced in position. Therefore the 3-pounder on the top of the gunhouse aft opened fire at 5,000 yards. This was quite a normal happening,for many a small mercantile steamer was thus armed defensively. The enemy replied, and at 6.21, as the latter showed no intention of decreasing the range,Penshurstopened fire with all guns on the port side, and appeared to hit, so that at 6.24 the enemy submerged. Meanwhile thePenshurstwas not under control and steamed round in circles, but help was approaching, for at 6.50 p.m. H.M.S.Leonidaswirelessed saying she would reachPenshurstat 7.30 p.m. At 7.5 the submarine was 7 miles astern, waiting stationary to see what would happen, but at 7.26 she dived on observing the approaching destroyer. Nightfall came, and as the water was still gaining in the Q-ship, all the men who could be spared were transferred to theLeonidas.Penshurstthen shaped a course E.N.E. for Plymouth, and next day at 1.30 p.m. was taken in tow by a tug which had been sent out with two armed trawlers from the Scillies Naval Base. Thus, wounded yet not beaten, she passed through Plymouth Sound, and on August 21 made fast to a Devonport jetty, happily having suffered no casualties to any of her personnel. Lieutenant Naylor received a bar to his D.S.O., the ship had a thorough refit, and in place of a 12-pounder she was now given a 4-inch gun, which would enable her to fight the 4·1-inch U-boat gun on more equal terms.
Then, still commanded by Lieutenant Naylor, she went forth again. We can pass over the intervening weeks and come to Christmas Eve, 1917. At a time when most non-combatants ashore were about to take part in the great festival, this most gallant ship, heroine of so many fights, was in the direst straits. At midday she was approaching the southern end of the Irish Sea, shaping a course to intercept a submarineoperating off the Smalls, when ten minutes later she sighted a U-boat two points on the port bow, in Lat. 51.31 N., Long. 5.33 W., about 5 miles ahead, steering at right angles toPenshurstand beginning the ‘approach’ of her attacking tactics.Penshurstwas making her usual 8 knots, and at 12.12 p.m. the enemy, as was expected, submerged. Although the Q-ship zigzagged and tried to make the enemy break surface astern and attack by gunfire, the German was too good at his own job, and at 1.31 p.m. came the torpedo, fired from 300 yards away, half a point forward of the port beam. Only the track of the torpedo was seen, the ship’s helm was put hard aport, but the torpedo could not be avoided and struck the ship between the boilers and engine-room.
Violent was the explosion, great was the damage, so that the ship stopped dead and began to settle by the stern. The sides of the dummy boat amidships had fallen down, thus exposing the midships 4-inch gun, and the after gunhouse had also collapsed, revealing the guns here placed, though the 12-pounder guns on the bridge remained intact and concealed, with the guns’ crews close up and out of sight. The ship was now ‘abandoned,’ and panic parties were sent away in the one remaining boat and two rafts. The enemy, still submerged, proceeded to circle the ship, inspect her closely, approach the boat and rafts, and then at 2.40 p.m. rose to the surface on the port bow 250 yards off and began shellingPenshurstwith her after gun. The Q-ship was about to open fire, but, owing to having settled down so much by the stern, the gun there could not be sufficiently depressed to bear. It was only when the ship rolled or pitched enough that advantage was taken of such movement and the enemy fired at. Six rounds were fired, the second hittingthe submarine on the starboard side of the deck forward, the fourth hitting abaft the conning-tower. The enemy dived, and at 3.47 p.m. reappeared on the starboard beam 5 miles away. But now one of H.M. P-boats, those low-lying, specially constructed anti-submarine craft, rather like a torpedo-boat, arrived on the scene, so that the submarine was frightened away and not sighted again on that day, though she was probably the one sunk by a P-boat on Christmas Day.
As forPenshurst, help had come too late. The crew were saved, but the ship herself sank at 8.5 p.m. on December 24, 1917. Lieutenant Cedric Naylor, who already possessed the decorations of D.S.O. and bar and D.S.C., and had for his gallantry been transferred from R.N.R. to the Royal Navy, now received a second bar to his D.S.O., and Lieutenant E. Hutchison, R.N.R., received a D.S.O. Thus after two years of the most strenuous service, full of honours, thisPenshurstended her glorious life as a man-of-war. Wounded, scar-stained, repaired and refitted, her gallant crew, so splendidly trained by Captain Grenfell, had kept taking her to sea along the lanes of enemy activity. Insignificant to look at, when you passed her on patrol you would never have guessed the amount of romance and history contained in her hull. Naval history has no use for hysteria and for the sensational exaggeration of ‘stunt’ journalism, but it is difficult to write calmly of the great deeds performed in these most unheroic-looking ships. To-day some Q-ship officers and men are walking about looking for jobs, and there are not ships in commission to employ them. But yesterday they were breaking the spirit of the U-boat personnel, risking their lives to the uttermost limits in the endeavour torender ineffectual the submarine blockade and the starvation of the nation.
Bravery such as we have seen in this and other chapters was greater than even appears: for, having once revealed the identity of your ship as a man-of-war, the wounded submarine would remember you, however much you might disguise yourself; and the next time he returned, as he usually did, to the same station, he would do his best to get you, even if he spent hours and days over the effort. That officers and men willingly, eagerly, went to sea in the same Q-ships, time after time, when they might have obtained, and would certainly have deserved, a less trying appointment afloat or ashore, is surely a positive proof that we rightly pride ourselves on our British seamanhood. Through the centuries we have bred and fostered and even discouraged this spirit. In half-decked boats, in carracks, galleons, wooden walls, fishing boats, lifeboats, pleasure craft; in steam, and steel-hulled motor, cargo ships, in liner and tramp and small coaster, this seamanlike character has been trained, developed, and kept alive, and now in the Q-ship service it reaches its apotheosis. For all that is courageous, enduring, and inspiring among the stories of the sea in any period, can you beat it? Can you even equal it?
Oneof the great lessons of the Great War was the inter-relation of international politics and warfare. It was an old lesson indeed, but modern conditions emphasized it once more. We have already seen that the torpedoing in 1915 of the Atlantic linersLusitaniaandArabiccaused pressure to be put on the German Government by the United States of America. In the spring of 1916 the submarine campaign, for the Germans, was proceeding very satisfactorily. In February they had sunk 24,059 tons of British merchant shipping, in March they sank 83,492 tons, in April 120,540 tons; but in May this dropped suddenly to 42,165 tons. What was the reason for this sudden fall?
The answer is as follows: On March 24, 1916, the cross-Channel S.S.Sussexwas torpedoed by a German submarine, and it happened that many citizens of the U.S.A. were on board at the time and several were killed. This again raised the question of relations between the U.S.A. and Germany, theNew York Worldgoing so far as to ask, ‘Whether anything is to be gained by maintaining any longer the ghastly pretence of friendly diplomatic correspondence with a Power notoriously lacking in truth and honour.’ On April 20, therefore, the U.S.A. presented a very sharp note to the German Government,protesting against the wrongfulness of the submarine campaign waged versus commerce, and threatened to break off diplomatic relations. The result of this was that Germany had to give way, and sent orders to her naval staff to the effect that submarine warfare henceforth was to be carried on in accordance with Prize Law: that is to say, the U-boats—so Admiral Scheer interpreted it—were ‘to rise to the surface and stop ships, examine papers, and all passengers and crew to leave the ship before sinking her.’
Now this did not appeal to the German mind at all. ‘As war waged according to Prize Law by U-boats,’ wrote Admiral Scheer,3‘in the waters around England could not possibly have any success, but, on the contrary, must expose the boats to the greatest dangers, I recalled all the U-boats by wireless, and announced that the U-boat campaign against British commerce had ceased.’ Thus we find that after April 26 the sinkings of British merchant ships became low until they began to increase in September, 1916, and then rapidly mounted up until in April, 1917, they had reached their maximum for the whole war with 516,394 tons. It is to be noted that after May 8, until July 5, 1916, no sinkings by U-boats occurred in home waters, although the sinkings went on in the Mediterranean, where risk of collision with American interests was less likely to occur.
Having regard to the increasing utility and efficiency of the Q-ships, we can well understand Admiral Scheer’s objection to U-boats rising to the surface, examining the ship’s papers, and allowing everyone to leave the ship before sinking her. This was therecognized law, and entirely within its rights the Q-ship made full use of this until she hoisted the White Ensign and became suddenly a warship. It shows the curious mental temper of the German that he would gamble only when he had the dice loaded in his favour. He had his Q-ships, which, under other names, endeavoured and indeed were able to pass through our blockade, and go raiding round the world; but until his submarines could go at it ruthlessly, he had not the same keenness. It was on February 1, 1917, that his Unrestricted Submarine Campaign began, and this was a convenient date, seeing that Germany had by this time 109 submarines. We know these facts beyond dispute, for a year after the signing of Armistice Germany held a ‘General National Assembly Committee of Inquiry’ into the war, and long accounts were published in the Press. One of the most interesting witnesses was Admiral von Capelle, who, in March, 1916, had succeeded von Tirpitz as Minister of Marine; and from the former’s lips it was learned that one of the main reasons why Germany in 1916 built so few submarines was the Battle of Jutland; for the damage inflicted on the High Sea Fleet necessitated taking workmen away from submarine construction to do repairs on the big ships. The number and intensity of the minefields laid by the British in German waters in that year caused Germany to build many minesweepers to keep clear the harbour exits. This also, he says, took men away from submarine building. It needed a couple of years to build the larger U-boats and a year to build the smaller ones; and though at the beginning of the Unrestricted Campaign in February, 1917, there were on paper 109 German submarines, and before the end of thewar, in spite of sinkings by Allied forces, the number even averaged 127, yet there were never more than 76 actually in service at one time, and frequently the number was half this amount. For the Germans divided the seas up into so many stations, and for each station five submarines were required, thus: one actually at work in the area, one just relieved on her way home for rest and refit, a third on her way out from refit to relieve number one, while two others were being overhauled by dockyard hands. Geographically Germany was unfortunately situated for attacking the shipping reaching the British Isles from the Atlantic and Bay of Biscay. Before the submarines could get into the Atlantic they had either to negotiate the Dover Straits or go round the North of Scotland. The first was risky, especially for the bigger and more valuable submarines, and during 1918 became even highly dangerous; but the second, especially during the boisterous winter months, knocked the submarines about to such an extent that they kept the dockyards busier than otherwise.
All this variation of U-boat activity reacted on the rise, development, and wane of the Q-ship. In the early part of 1917, when the submarine campaign was at its height, the Q-ships were at the top of their utility. It was no longer any hole-and-corner service, relying on a few keen, ingenious brains at one or two naval bases, but became a special department in the Admiralty, who selected the ships, arranged for the requisite disguises, and chose the personnel. The menace to the country’s food had by this time become so serious—a matter of a very few weeks, as we have since learned, separated us from starvation—that every anti-submarine method had to be carriedout with vigour, and at that time no method promised greater success than these mystery ships. Altogether about 180 vessels of various sorts were taken up and commissioned as Q-ships. Apart from the usual tramp steamers and colliers and disguised trawlers, thirty-four sloops and sixteen converted P-boats, named now ‘PQ’s,’ were equipped. The P-boat, as mentioned on a previous page, was a low-lying craft rather like a torpedo-boat; but her great feature was her underwater design. She was so handy and had a special forefoot that if once she got near to a submarine the latter would certainly be rammed; in one case the P-boat went clean through the submarine’s hull. The next stage, then, was to build a suitable superstructure on this handy hull, so that the ship had all the appearance of a small merchant ship. Because of her shallow, deceptive draught she was not likely to be torpedoed, whereas her extreme mobility was very valuable.
In every port all over the country numerous passenger and tramp steamers and sailing ships were inspected and found unsuitable owing to their peculiar structure or the impossibility of effective disguise combined with a sufficient bearing of the disguised guns. All this meant a great deal of thought and inventive genius, the tonnage as a rule ranging from 200 to 4,000, and the ships being sent to work from Queenstown, Longhope, Peterhead, Granton, Lowestoft, Portsmouth, Plymouth, Falmouth, Milford, Malta, and Gibraltar. And when you ask what was the net result of these Q-ships, the whole answer cannot be given in mere figures. Generally they greatly assisted the merchantman, for it made the U-boat captain very cautious, and there are instances where he desisted from attackinga real merchant ship for the reason that something about her suggested a Q-ship. In over eighty cases Q-ships damaged German submarines and thus sent them home licking their wounds, anxious only to be left alone for a while. This accounts for some of those instances when a merchant ship, on seeing a submarine proceeding on the surface, was surprised to find that the German did not attack. Thus the Q-ship had temporarily put a stop to sinkings by that submarine. But apart from these indirect, yet no less valuable, results, no fewer than eleven submarines were directly sent to their doom of all the 203 German U-craft sunk during the war from various causes, including mines and accidents.
But as time went on it became inevitable that the more a Q-ship operated the more likely would she be recognized and the less useful would be her work. By August, 1917, Q-ships were having a most difficult time, and during that month alone six Q-ships were lost. By September their success, broadly speaking, was on the wane. This, however, does not mean that their service had ceased to be productive or that they were no longer deemed worth while. On the contrary, as we shall see presently, they were to perform more wonderful work, and the number of Q-ships was actually increased, especially in respect of sailing ships in home waters; but those which happened to make an unsuccessful attack were at once ordered to return to their base and alter both rig and disguise. Similarly, in the Mediterranean, where the submarines were doing us so much harm, the number of Q-ships was increased, and one was cleverly included in the outward-bound convoys, to drop astern as soon as in the danger zone, after the manner of many a lame-duck merchantman whoseengines had caused him to straggle. Then would come the Q-ship’s chance, when she revealed herself as a warship and fooled the submarine from attacking the convoy, which had just disappeared over the horizon in safety.
The converted ‘flower’ class sloops, originally built as minesweepers, but by the able work of the naval dockyard staff now made to resemble little merchantmen, were having a busy time.Tulip(Q 12), for instance, which had begun her Q-ship service at the end of August, 1916, was sunk eight months later by a submarine in the Atlantic and her captain taken prisoner, though eighty survivors were picked up by the British destroyerMary Roseand landed in Queenstown.4The sloopViolabegan this special work towards the end of September, 1916, and a month later was shelled by a submarine, who suddenly gave up the attack and made off to the northward, having evidently realized the sloop’s disguise, which none but an expert seafarer could have penetrated. Now, in each submarine there was usually carried as warrant navigating officer a man who had served in German liners and freighters and would be familiar with the shipping normally to be found in the area to which each U-boat was assigned. In this particular incident his practised eye had evidently been struck by the position of the above-water discharge being vertically under the imitation cargo hatch and derrick forward of the mainmast. These were important details which had to be watched if the disguise was to be successful.
Q-ship “Tulip”This vessel was originally built as a sloop, but was given a false stern and generally altered to resemble a merchantman.
Q-ship “Tulip”This vessel was originally built as a sloop, but was given a false stern and generally altered to resemble a merchantman.
Q-ship “Tamarisk”Like the “Tulip,” this vessel was originally built as a warship. She was cleverly altered so that both in hull and upperworks she resembled a merchant steamer.To face p. 138
Q-ship “Tamarisk”Like the “Tulip,” this vessel was originally built as a warship. She was cleverly altered so that both in hull and upperworks she resembled a merchant steamer.
To face p. 138
Another converted sloop wasTamarisk, who began that rôle at the end of July, 1916, and was commanded by Lieutenant John W. Williams, R.N.R. Towards the end of November she was shelled by a submarine at long range, so that the Q-ship had to declare herself and reply, whereupon the enemy beat a retreat and dived. Hitherto the excellent Q-ship gunnery had depended on the fact that first-class men had been selected who would be able at short range to score hits with the first or second rounds. But this incident of theTamarisk, involving at least 6,000 yards range, showed that a small range-finder would be very useful, and this was accordingly supplied. Other sloops thus converted to resemble merchantmen were theBegonia,Aubrietia,Salvia,Heather, and so on.
The Q-ships operated not merely in the North Atlantic, English Channel, North Sea, and Mediterranean, but in such areas as off Lapland and the other side of the North and South Atlantic. For instance, the S.S.Intaba(Q 2), under Commander Frank Powell, on December 8, 1916, was in action with a submarine not far from the Kola Inlet, and had been sent to these northern latitudes inasmuch as German submarines for some time had been sinking our merchant ships off that coast. Another Q-ship operated with a British E-class submarine near Madeira and the Canaries; and another Q-ship was in the South Atlantic looking for a German raider, At other times there were the ocean-going submarinesDeutschlandandBremento be looked out for. There was thus plenty of work to be carried out by these decoy vessels in almost every sea.
But it was especially those Q-ships based on Queenstown who had to bear the brunt of the submarinewarfare. Strategically, Queenstown was an outpost of the British Isles, and there was scarcely a day in the week when one Q-ship was not leaving or entering Queenstown, or in the Haulbowline Dockyard being got ready for her next ‘hush’ cruise. Bearing in mind that this base was in a country whose inhabitants were largely anti-British, that there had been a great rising in Dublin at Eastertide, 1916, and that the German disguised S.S.Audhad made an ineffectual attempt to land a cargo of arms, and that Sir Roger Casement had arrived, it may well be realized how great was the responsible task of enshrouding these decoys in secrecy. Perhaps for weeks a recently requisitioned ship would be alongside the dockyard quay having her necessary disguises made, and yet the enemy knew nothing about it until he found himself surprised, and forced to keep at long range or hide himself in the depths of the sea. Sound organization, constant personal attention on the part of the Commander-in-Chief, and loyal, enthusiastic co-operation on the part of the officers and men, achieved the successes which came to this difficult work of Q-ships. It was all such a distinctly novel kind of sea service, which was of too personal and particular a kind to allow it to be run by mere routine. During the whole of its history it was experimental, and each cruise, each engagement, almost each captain added to the general body of knowledge which was being rapidly accumulated. It seemed for the professional naval officer as if the whole of his previous life and training had been capsized. Instead of his smart, fast twin-screw destroyer, he found himself in command of an awkward, single-screw, disreputable-looking tramp, too slow almost to get out of her own way. On the other hand, officers ofthe Mercantile Marine, fresh from handling freighters or liners, in whom throughout all their lives had been instilled the maxim ‘Safety first,’ now found they had to court risks, look for trouble, and pretend they were not men-of-war. Q-ship work was, in fact, typical of the great upheaval which had affected the whole world.
In some cases the transition was gradual. Some officers, having come from other ships to command sloops, found their aspirations satisfied not even in these ships, whose work went on unceasingly—escorting all but the fastest Atlantic liners, patrolling, minesweeping, picking up survivors or salvaging stricken ships, or whatever duty came along. Transferring as volunteers from sloops to sloops rebuilt as Q-ships, they had to forget a great deal and acquire much more. One of such officers was Lieut.-Commander W. W. Hallwright, R.N., who, after doing very fine work as captain of one of H.M. sloops based on Queenstown, took over command of the disguised sloopHeather(Q 16). One April day in 1917, while cruising in the Atlantic about breakfast time,Heatherwas suddenly attacked by a submarine, whose sixth shot killed this keen officer, a piece of shell passing through his head whilst he was watching the movements of the German through a peep-hole on the starboard side of the bridge. Lieutenant W. McLeod, R.N.R., then took command, opened fire, but the submarine dived and made off as usual.
Other Q-ship captains perished, and that is all we know. On a certain date the ship left harbour; perhaps a couple of days later she had reported a certain incident in a certain position. After that, silence! Neither the ship nor any officers or crew ever returnedto port, and one could but assume that the enemy had sent them to the bottom. In spite of all this, the number of volunteers exceeded the demand. From retired admirals downwards they competed with each other to get to sea in Q-ships. Bored young officers from the Grand Fleet yearning for something exciting; ex-mercantile officers, yachtsmen, and trawler men, they used every possible means to become acceptable, and great was their disappointment if they were not chosen.
Inthe summer of 1914 I happened to be on a yachting cruise in the English Channel. In July we had seen the Grand Fleet, led byIron Duke, clear out from Weymouth Bay for Spithead. In single line ahead the battle squadrons weighed and proceeded, then came the light cruisers, and before the last of these had washed the last ounce of dirt off her cable and steamed into position, theIron DukeandMarlboroughwere hull down over the horizon: it was the most wonderful sight I had ever witnessed at sea. A week or two later I had arrived in Falmouth, the war had begun, and yachting came to a sudden stop. One morning we found a new neighbour had arrived, a typical, foreign-built, three-masted schooner, who had just been brought in and anchored. She was destined to be an historic ship in more ways than one. Actually, she was the first prize to be captured from Germany, and it was a unique sight then to see the White Ensign flying over German colours. Within four or five hours of declaration of war this craft had been captured at the western entrance of the English Channel, and she never became German again.
But she was to be historic in quite another way. Of all the splendid little Q-ships during the war, not excepting even theMitchellmentioned in anotherchapter, no sailing craft attained such distinction, and her captain will be remembered as long as British naval history has any fascination. This German schooner was named theElse, and had been built of steel and iron in 1901 at Westerbrock, by the firm of Smit and Zoon, but registered at Leer, Germany. She was 112 feet 6 inches long, her net tonnage being 199. I can still see her disconsolate German skipper standing aft, and it must have grieved him that his ship was about to be taken from him for ever. For she was afterwards put up for auction and sold to the Marine Navigation Company, who, because of her experience already mentioned, changed her name fromElsetoFirst Prize. In November, 1916, she was lying in Swansea, and as the Admiralty was looking out for a suitable vessel to carry out decoy work after the manner ofMitchellandHelgoland, she was surveyed, found suitable, and requisitioned. A few weeks later the Managing Director of the Company patriotically decided to waive all payment for hire, and lent her to the Admiralty without remuneration.
By February, 1917, this auxiliary topsail schooner was ready for sea as a disguised man-of-war, with a couple of 12-pounders cleverly concealed on her deck. She had changed her name fromFirst PrizetoPrize, alias Q 21, and in command of her went Lieutenant W. E. Sanders, R.N.R., whom we saw behaving with distinction when serving in the Q-sailing-shipHelgoland. No better man could have been found than this plucky New Zealander, and he had already shown that he had a genius for this extra special type of Q-ship work.Prizehad been sent to work in the western waters, and on April 26, 1917, she left Milford Haven for a cruise off the west coast of Ireland, thisbeing the month when, of all months in the war, German submarines were the most successful. At 8.35 on the evening of April 30,Prizewas in Lat. 49.44 N., Long. 11.42 W. It was fine, clear, spring-like weather, with a light N.N.E. wind, calm sea, and good visibility.Prizewas under all sail, steering on a north-west course, and making about 2 knots. Two miles away on her port beam, and steering a parallel course, was sighted a big submarine. This was U 93, a most modern craft, commanded by one of Germany’s ablest submarine officers, Lieut.-Commander Freiherr von Spiegel. She was a powerful vessel, who had relieved U 43 on this station, and was over 200 feet long, armed with two 10·5-centimetre guns, 500 rounds of ammunition, and 18 torpedoes, her complement consisting of 37 officers and men. This latest submarine was on her maiden trip in the Atlantic, having left Emden on Friday, April 13. For those who are superstitious the day and the date will be interesting. She had had a most successful cruise, having sunk eleven merchantmen, and was now on her way back to Germany. Von Spiegel was anxious to be back home as soon as possible, for, be it said, he was certainly a sportsman, and he happened to have a couple of horses running in the Berlin races in the second week of May.
The sighting of this little topsail schooner made him avaricious. He had sunk eleven: why not make the number a round dozen? So, at 8.45 p.m., he altered course towards thePrize, and ordering on deck to see the fun all his men who could be spared, he opened fire with both guns. Lieutenant Sanders therefore broughtPrizeinto the wind, and sent his panic party to row about. This party consisted of six men in charge of Skipper Brewer, of the TrawlerReserve, who had been intentionally visible on deck, and now launched their small boat. In the meantime, at the sounding of the alarm, Lieutenant Sanders and Skipper Meade (also of the Trawler Reserve) had concealed themselves inside the steel companion-cover amidships, and the rest of the crew were hiding under the protection of the bulwarks or crawling to their respective stations.Prize’stwo guns were placed one forward, concealed by a collapsible deckhouse, and one aft, on an ingenious disappearing mounting under the hatchway covers of the after hold, and she carried also a couple of Lewis guns. Lieutenant W. D. Beaton, R.N.R., who was second in command of the ship, was in charge of the gunnery forward, and lay at the foot of the foremast with his ear to a voice-pipe which led back to where Lieutenant Sanders was conning the ship.
The contest could not fail to be interesting, for it resolved itself into a duel between one ‘star-turn’ artist and another. Neither was a novice, both were resourceful, plucky men, and the incident is one of the most picturesque engagements of all the Q-ship warfare. Taking it for granted that this little trader out in the Atlantic was what she appeared to be, von Spiegel closed.Prize’shead had now fallen off to the eastward, so the submarine followed her round, still punishing her with his shells, to make sure the abandon-ship evolution had been genuine. Two of these shells hitPrizeon her waterline—you will remember she was built of iron and steel—penetrating and bursting inside the hull. One of them put the auxiliary motor out of action and wounded the motor mechanic: the other destroyed the wireless room and wounded the operator. That was serious enough, but cabins and mess-room were wrecked, the mainmastshot through in a couple of places, and the ship now leaking. Such was the training, such was the discipline of these men under their gallant New Zealand captain, that, in spite of this nerve-wracking experience, they still continued to remain on deck, immobile, unseen, until Lieutenant Sanders should give the longed-for word. They could see nothing, they could not ease the mental strain by watching the enemy’s manœuvres or inferring from what direction the next shot—perhaps the last—would come. This knowledge was shared only by Lieutenant Sanders and Skipper Meade as they peeped through the slits of their lair. Several times Sanders crept from this place on hands and knees along the deck, encouraging his men and impressing on them the necessity of concealment.
Meanwhile, closer and closer drew the submarine, but the latter elected to remain dead astern, and this was unfortunate, for not one ofPrize’sguns would thus bear. Then there was a strange sound aft. Everyone knows that the inboard end of a patent log fits into a small slide, which is screwed down on to the taffrail of a ship. Suddenly this slide was wrenched and splintered, for the enemy had got so close astern that she had fouled and carried away the log-line in her endeavour to make quite sure of her scrutiny. U 93 then, apparently convinced that all was correct, sheered out a little and came up on the schooner’s port quarter only 70 yards away, being about to send her quickly to the bottom.
Thus had passed twenty long, terrible minutes of suspense on board the Q-ship, and it was five minutes past nine. But patience, that great virtue of the really brave, had at length been rewarded. Through his steel slit Sanders could see that his guns wouldbear, so ‘Down screens!’ ‘Open fire!’ and up went the White Ensign. Covers and false deckhouses were suddenly collapsed, and thePrize’sguns now returned the fire, as the pent-up feelings of the crew were able to find their outlet in fierce activity. But even as the White Ensign was being hoisted, the submarine fired a couple more shots, and the schooner was twice hit, wounding one of the crew who had rushed below to fetch from the bottom of the ladder a Lewis gun. Von Spiegel was now evidently very angered, for putting his helm hard aport he went full speed ahead to ram the schooner, and with that fine bow he might have made a nasty hole at the waterline, through which the sea would have poured like a waterfall. But he realized that he was outside his turning circle, so put his helm the other way and tried to make off. It was then that a shell from thePrize’safter gun struck the forward gun of the submarine, blowing it to pieces, as well as the gun’s crew. The second shot from the same British gun destroyed the conning-tower, and a Lewis gun raked the rest of the men on the deck. The third shot fromPrize’safter gun also hit so that she stopped, and as she sank shell after shell hit, and the glare was seen as of a fire inside the hull. At 9.9 p.m., after thePrizehad fired thirty-six rounds, the enemy disappeared stern first. Lieutenant Sanders could not use his engines as they were already out of action, and there was practically no wind, so he could not go to the spot where she had last been seen.
The darkness was fast falling, and the panic party in the boat rowed over the scene to search for any survivors, and picked up three. These were Von Spiegel, the submarine’s captain, the navigating warrant officer, and a stoker petty officer. Coveredby Skipper Brewer’s pistol, these were now taken on board the schooner. ButPrizeherself was in a bad way. Water was pouring through the shell-holes, and, in spite of efforts to stop it, the sea was gaining all the time. Had it not been calm, the vessel would certainly have gone to the bottom. Von Spiegel, on coming aboard, offered his word of honour to make no attempt to escape, and undertook that he and his men would render all assistance. His parole being accepted, captors and captives set to work to save the ship. There was a possibility that another submarine known to be in the area would come along and finish off the sinkingPrize, so all had more than an interest in the proceedings.
As the ship was leaking so badly, the only thing to do was to list her. This was done by swinging out the small boat on the davits filled with water; by passing up from below both cables on deck and ranging them on the starboard side; by shifting coal from port to starboard and by emptying the port fresh-water tanks. By this means the shot-holes were almost clear of the water, though the crew had to continue baling night and day. Troubles never come singly. Here was this gallant little ship lying out in the Atlantic night, crippled and becalmed. An attempt was made to start the engines, but owing to sparks from the motor igniting the oil which had escaped from a damaged tank, a fire broke out in the engine-room. This was prevented from reaching the living quarters and magazine, and was eventually put out. Meanwhile, the German navigating warrant officer had dressed the wounds ofPrize’swounded crew, and now, at 11.45 p.m.,Prize’swounded stoker petty officer, assisted by the second motor-man and the German stoker petty officer, succeeded in startingone engine, and course was shaped for the Irish coast, all sail being set; but the nearest land was 120 miles to the north-east.
That night passed, and the next day, and the forenoon of the day following; but on the afternoon of May 2 the Irish coast was sighted, andPrizewas picked up 5 miles west of the Old Head of Kinsale by H.M.M.L. 161 (Lieutenant Hannah, R.N.V.R.), who towed her into Kinsale, where the wounded were disembarked. On May 4—that notable sunny day when the first United States destroyers reached Queenstown from America—Prize, still with her three German prisoners on board, left Kinsale Harbour, towed by H.M. DrifterRival II., who took her to Milford. But on the wayPrizesighted a German mine-laying submarine on the surface 2 miles away to the southward. The crew therefore went to action stations, and for an hour the enemy steered on a parallel course, but finally the latter drew ahead and disappeared. Arrived in Milford the prisoners were taken ashore, and thePrizeat length came to rest.
It has been told me by one who ought to know, that when Von Spiegel came aboardPrize, after being picked up out of the water, he remarked to Sanders: ‘The discipline in the German Navy is wonderful, but that your men could have quietly endured our shelling without reply is beyond all belief.’ Before leaving thePrizehe said good-bye to Sanders and extended an invitation to stay with him on his Schleswig-Holstein estate after the war. No one will deny the extraordinary gallantry ofPrize’screw and the heroic patience in withholding their fire until the psychological moment, though the temptation was very trying. To Lieutenant W. E. Sanders wasawarded the Victoria Cross, and he was promoted to the rank of Temporary Lieut.-Commander, R.N.R. To Lieutenant W. D. Beaton, R.N.R., was awarded a D.S.O.; the two skippers each received a D.S.C., and the rest of the brave ship’s company the D.S.M.
But the ending of this story is yet to be told. U 93 was not sunk, but got safely back to Germany! Von Spiegel had thought she was sunk, and the crew ofPrizewere not less certain. She had been holed in her starboard ballast tank, in her starboard fuel tank, and her conning-tower, and she was assuredly in a very bad way. If it had been daylight she would most certainly have been finally destroyed; as it was she was unable to dive, and escaped in the darkness deprived of her wireless. Sub-Lieutenant Ziegler took over the command, with one of his crew killed, three wounded, and three already taken prisoners. With the utmost difficulty, and compelled to navigate all the time on the surface, he managed to get his craft home. It was certainly a fine achievement; the Kaiser was much impressed, and promoted him to lieutenant. But, at the time, we in this country had never supposed that any submarine could stand so much battering. It is interesting to bear this incident in mind when reading other accounts in this book, where it seemed so sure that the submarine must have been sunk: yet the greatest care has been taken to verify every enemy submarine sunk, and in each case the number has been given. But U 93 was doomed, and had not much longer to live after her refit. Early in the following January, one fine clear morning at a quarter past four, the time when human nature is at its weakest and most collisions occur at sea, this submarine was rammed by a steamer and sunk for the last time.
After her very necessary refit, Lieut.-Commander Sanders still remained in thePrize. Admiral Jellicoe, First Sea Lord, had sent for him and offered him command of another ship: he could have had a destroyer, a P-boat, or any ship within reason, but his undaunted spirit, to which Lord Jellicoe on arriving in New Zealand after the war paid such high tribute, refused a safer appointment, and preferred to carry on. I have been told by an officer who enjoyed Sanders’ friendship and confidence at this time, that he went out to sea again with the consciousness that before long he would have played the live-bait game too far, and that the fish would get away with the bait. If that is true, then we must admire Sanders still more for his heroism in his devotion to duty. It is surely of this stuff that the great martyrs of Christendom have been made.
On June 12, 1917—that is, six weeks after the previous incident, just time enough to give leave to all the crew, get the ship refitted and sailed to her new area—Prizeleft Killybegs (Ireland) to cruise to the westward of the Irish coast. At 11 a.m. on this day she was under all sail on a N.N. W. course, doing not more than a knot through the water, when she sighted a submarine 1½ miles to the E.S.E. proceeding slowly on the same course asPrize. The movements of this submarine thereafter are worth noting. It is only reasonable to suppose that on his return to Germany in U 93 Ziegler would give a full description of the trap-ship which had so nearly destroyed him. This information would, of course, be passed on to the other submarine captains who frequented this Irish area, and we may be quite certain that they would be on the look-out for her, anxious to revenge their service. Now, in these modern times, and inany twenty-four hours, you will see far more steamers of all sorts than 200-ton sailing craft: it certainly was so during the war off the west and south-west coast of Ireland. During the years I was on patrol there, with the exception of quite small local fishing craft and an occasional full-rigged ship making the land after her voyage across the Atlantic, one scarcely ever sighted a sailing vessel of any kind. Ziegler would have reported in effect: ‘Look out for a three-masted topsail schooner of about 200 tons. She has a bow like this..., her stern is like this..., and her sheer is so.... You will probably find she has a dummy deckhouse placed here...;’ and a rough sketch would afford his comrades a pretty accurate idea. You cannot ever disguise the appearance of such a sailing ship altogether, no matter what name you give her, nor what colour you paint her hull. A three-masted topsail schooner is that and nothing else, and would henceforth be regarded with the utmost suspicion. Then, on comparing her with the sketch and examining her with the eye of seamanlike experience, no astute submarine officer could have had much doubt in his mind. A British officer who knew this ship well has told me that in his opinion there was one small detail, in respect of the wireless, which, to a careful observer, would always give her character away. This may be so: at any rate, the following incidents seem to indicate that the enemy were on the look-out for her during the rest of her career, and persistently attacked her.
On the occasion of June 12, as soon as the submarine came to the surface and opened fire,Prizeas usual, after the necessary intentional bungling, sent away her boat, which took up a position half a mile away on the starboard bow. The enemy kept onfiring, and at 11.30 the schooner was hit twice, so three minutes later, as the enemy was turning away to increase the range, Sanders ordered the screens to be lowered, and opened fire from both starboard guns at 1,800 yards. One shell seemed to hit, and the enemy immediately dived. But two hours later a submarine was seen on the surface 4 miles away on the starboard quarter, and remained in sight for a quarter of an hour. Then next morning at 6.30 a submarine was sighted stopped, 1½ miles ahead on the surface. Five minutes later he dived, but came up after four minutes 1,500 yards off on the starboard bow. At 6.43 he again dived, and was not seen again. Probably each of these three appearances was the same submarine. On the first he was repulsed, on the second he would have a perfect opportunity of making a detailed sketch, on the third he may have been intending to attack by torpedo, but the westerly swell from the Atlantic possibly interfered with accurate firing. But, apart from all surmise, it is absolutely evident that the enemy was able to obtain a picture of the schooner, which beyond all doubt would establish her identity on a future occasion. The importance of this will presently be seen.
For this action of June 12 Lieut.-Commander Sanders was given a D.S.O. to wear with his V.C. He had had a very trying time. When, at 11.30, the German shells had hit, the falls of the port davit had been shot away, and another shot had struck the ship on the starboard side amidships just on the top of the sheer strake plate. This shell had exploded and caused the ship to leak. Lieut.-Commander Sanders, who was lying concealed between the mast and the hatch, put up his arms to shield his face from the burst fragments and so received a piece of shellin his right arm above the wrist. In addition, the force of the explosion knocked him over and hurled him to the other side of the deck, where he was picked up by Skipper Mead. In spite of the pain and the shock, Sanders was just sufficiently conscious to give the order ‘Action’ at 11.33, when screens were downed, White Ensign run up, and fire was returned. The schooner came back to her base, her gallant captain recovered from his wound, and two months later we find her operating in the Atlantic again to the north-west of the N.W. Irish coast. On this occasion she was cruising with one of our D-class submarines, the idea being that when the enemy came alongPrizewould be attacked and heave-to in the customary manner, while the British submarine would stealthily make for the enemy and torpedo him whilst, so to speak, he was not looking.
On the forenoon of August 13, imagine this schooner with her newly-painted black topsides and red boot-topping, flying the Swedish flag and heading east. Suddenly UB 48 was sighted to the north, so Sanders hove-to and signalled the British submarine that there was a German submarine to port. Shells began to be fired from the enemy, who closed. The British submarine saw the shots falling but could not see the enemy until 4.10 p.m., when the German was descried to starboard of thePrize. There was a considerable lop on at the time, andPrizewas seen with White Ensign flying at the peak, and her guns manned. Five hours later the British submarine came to the surface and spokePrize, who stated that she had opened fire on the enemy at 200 yards, and had hit him. This we now know from another source was perfectly true, but the hits were not in a vital part of the German. During the dark hours UB 48bided his time, and at midnight fired two torpedoes, the second of which hit, causing a terrific explosion, so that nothing more was seen, and the good shipPrize, with her gallant captain and all his brave men, ended her career after one of the most brilliant periods that can be found in the records of sea achievement. UB 48 was on her maiden voyage from Germany via the north of Scotland and N.W. of Ireland to Cattaro in the Adriatic, where she arrived on September 2, sinking merchantmen on the way. This modern type of submarine, with her 4·1-inch gun and her ten torpedoes, was a difficult craft to sink. Her second officer had been taken from the German Mercantile Marine, so we can assume that his critical eye would scrutinize the schooner and detect something which convinced his captain that this was really a trap-ship. That the submarine should have been content, whilst on a long passage, to waste so many hours over a mere sailing craft of quite small tonnage would have been doubtful; but thePrizehaving once shown her White Ensign and used her guns to effect decided the German that she must be settled with after dark, when she would be a good target in that August night. It was a fair fight, but the chances were all in favour of the German, since it is practically impossible to see a periscope at night, whereas the Q-ship’s sails would loom up and show in which direction the target was heading; and, further, the submarine had the advantage of mobility all the time.
The facts which have just been stated are authentic, and it is as well that they should now be made known. Ignorance always breeds falsehood, and after the loss ofPrizethere were all sorts of wild stories going about both in the Service and in the MercantileMarine. Some of them are too ghastly to be related, but a favourite version was that the brave Sanders had been taken prisoner and lashed to the submarine’s periscope, which then submerged and so drowned him. Another story, which was very prevalent, was that he had been cruelly murdered. There is not a word of truth in these suggestions. Lieut.-Commander Sanders died as he would have wished, aboard his ship with his men. His body rests in the Atlantic where the remains of his gloriousPrizesank: but his memorial, unveiled by Lord Jellicoe as Governor of New Zealand, will inspire generations who come after.
For dogged devotion to dangerous duty, for coolness in peril, for real leadership of men, for tenacity in ‘sticking it,’ this hero among those great and gallant gentlemen of the Q-ship service will remain as a model of what a true British sailor should be. Had he lived, his influence would have been tremendous, but by his refusing a safe billet when he was fully entitled to it, and preferring deliberately to court death because that way duty and honour pointed, his example should be a great source of strength to every young apprentice beginning his life in the Merchant Service, every midshipman of His Majesty’s Navy, and every young man content to learn the lessons which are taught only by the sea. On land, for their historic exploits at the Dardanelles and in France we gratefully remember the Australians and New Zealanders. It is fitting that one of the latter should have bequeathed to us such distinction on the sea: it is characteristic of the great co-operation when the children of the Empire flocked to help their mother in her throes of the World War.