Merchantmen-at-arms : the British merchants' service in the war Part 7

". . . It was very heavy and deliberate fire. [There were two enemy submarines.] The shots . . . were coming on deck and going through the sails. We threw the boat overboard and tumbled into her. . . . I started sculling the boat away from the smack, all the time under fire; but the Germans were not content with firing sh.e.l.ls at a helpless craft--they now turned a machine-gun on to defenceless fishermen in a boat on the open sea. . . . The boat was getting actually riddled by the machine-gun fire, and before I knew what was happening, I was struck by a bullet on the right thigh, and began to bleed dreadfully. . . . The smack was blown to pieces and went down. This was the work of one of the submarines--while she was sinking the smack the other was firing on us."

Throughout all the malevolent and calculated campaign of destruction, the fishermen remain steadfast to their old traditions of humanity. When _Vanilla_ is torpedoed without warning and vanishes in a welter of broken gear, her sea-mate, _Fermo_, dodging a second torpedo, steams to the wreckage to rescue the survivors--but finds none. In a heavy gale, _Provident_ of Brixham risks her mast and gear, gybing to close the sinking pinnace of the torpedoed _Formidable_, and rescue the exhausted seventy-one men who crowded her. The instances of fisher help to merchantmen in peril are uncounted and uncountable.

In the distant days when the Sea Services were cla.s.sed apart, each in its own trade and section--working by a rule that admitted no co-partnery--we foreign traders had little to do with those whom (in our arrogance) we deemed the 'humble' fishermen. In the mists of the channel waters, we came upon them at their trawls or nets. Their floats and buoys obstructed our course; the small craft, heading up on all angles, confused the operation of a 'Rule of the Road.' Impatient of an alteration that took us miles from a direct course, we felt somewhat resentful of their presence on the sea-route. That they were gathering and loading a cargo under stress and difficulty that contrasted with _our_ easy stowage in the shelter of a dock or harbour, did not occur to us; they were obstructionists, blocking our speedy pa.s.sage with their warps and nets and gear. Although most masters grudgingly steered clear, there were those in our ranks who elected to hold on through the fleets, unconcerned by the confusion and risk to the fishermen's gear that their pa.s.sage would occasion. There were angry shouts and protests; the gear and nets were often the sole property of the fishermen; serious losses were sustained.

At war, we have incurred debts. When peace comes and the seas are free again, we shall have memories of what we owe to the fishermen in all the varied services they have paid to us. The minesweepers toiling in the channels, that we may not meet sudden death; patrols riding out bitter weather in the open to warn us from danger, to succour and a.s.sist the remnants of our manning when a blow goes home. War has purged us of many old arrogant ways. When next we meet the fishing fleet at peaceful work in the channels, we shall recall the emotion and relief with which we sighted their friendly little hulls bearing down to protect us in a menaced seaway. We shall 'keep clear o' th' gear when th' nets is down.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: SOUTHAMPTON WATER]

VIII

THE RATE OF EXCHANGE

THE Bank of England official, who had been a close attendant on the bridge during the early part of the voyage, seems now to be rea.s.sured.

We are nearing land again. Another day should see us safely berthed at New York, where--his trust discharged--a pleasant interval should open to him ere returning to England. The gold and securities on board are reason for his pa.s.sage; he is with us as our official witness, should the activity of an enemy raider compel us to throw the millions overboard. Nothing has happened. The 'danger zone' has been pa.s.sed without event. Stormy weather on the Grand Banks has given way to light airs and a smooth sea as we steer in to make our landfall.

Together on the navigation bridge, we are discussing the shipment.

". . . It is the exchange, Captain," he says. "The exchange is against us. These huge war purchases in the States cannot be balanced by the moderate exports we are able to send over. When we left Liverpool the sovereign was worth four dollars, seventy-one cents in America. I don't know where it is going to end. We can't make securities. There must be a lim----" Drumming of the wireless telephone cuts in on his words.

"Operator wishes to know if he can leave the 'phones, sir? Says he has to see you."

The bridge messenger turns aside inquiringly, holding out the receiver of the telephone as a context to his words. The request, that would have aroused an instant disquiet six days ago, now appears trivial and normal. There may be receipts to be signed. Approaching port the operator will be completing his accounts. We are unconcerned and resume our conversation until he arrives.

He is insistent that it cannot be due to atmospherics. "A queer business, sir. Thought it best to report instead of telephoning. Some station addressing a message to ABMV [all British merchant vessels], and another trying to jam it out. Can't get more than the prefix, when jamming begins. No, not atmospherics. I've taken ABMV, though distant, twice in this watch, and, looking up the junior's jottings for the last watch, I see he had traces. Whatever is jamming the message out is closer to us than the sender. I dunno what to make of it!"

"You mean that a message from a land station to us is being interfered with, deliberately, from somewhere near at hand?"

He produces the slip of his junior's scribbles. Among the jumble of noughts and crosses, there is certainly a hastily scrawled ABMV, then x's and x's. "What else, sir? At first I thought it was atmospherics--x's were fierce last watch--but x's can't happen that way twice running!"

"All right! Carry on again. Let me know at once if anything further.

Gear to be manned continuously from now on. Keep your junior at hand."

[Ill.u.s.tration: 'OUT-BOATS' IN A MERCHANTMAN]

A queer business! We trim the possibilities in our mind. It is now nearly dark. As we go, we should make Nantucket Lightship at daybreak; our usual landfall on the voyage. There is not much to work on. 'A message being sent, and some one making unusual efforts to prevent receipt.' A raider? It is now some months since _Kronprinz Wilhelm_ was driven into Norfolk; she cannot surely, have escaped internment.

_Karlsruhe?_ Nothing has been heard of her for a long term. A submarine?

Perhaps _Deutschland_, with his torpedo-tubes refitted and a gun mounted? He knows the way; he could carry oil enough to reach the coast, do a strafe, and sneak into a port for internment. . . . Figuring on the chart, measuring distance and course and speed, it comes to us that enemy action would best succeed off Nantucket or the Virginia Capes. We resolve to cut in between the two, to make the land below Atlantic City, and take advantage of territorial waters. If there is no serious intention behind the jamming of the wireless, there will be no great harm done--we shall only lose ten hours on the pa.s.sage; if a raider is out, we shall, at least, be well off the expected route. We pa.s.s the orders.

A quiet night. We are steering into the afterglow of a brilliant sunset.

The mast and rigging stand out in clear black outline against lingering daylight as we swing south four points. The look-out aloft turns from his post and scans the wake curving to our sheer; anon, he wonders at the coming of a mate to share his watch. Pa.s.sengers, on a stroll, note unusual movement about the boat-deck, where the hands are swinging out lifeboats and clearing the gear. As the carpenter and his mates go the rounds, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g blinds to the ports and darkening ship, other pa.s.sengers hurry up from below and join the groups on deck; an excitement is quickly evident. They had thought all danger over when, in thirty degrees west, we allowed them to discard the c.u.mbersome life-jackets that they had worn since leaving the Mersey. And now--almost on the threshold of security and firm land--again the enervating restrictions and routine, the sinister preparations, the atmosphere of sudden danger. Rumours and alarms fly from lip to lip; we deem it best to publish that the wireless has heard the twitter of a strange bird.

Before midnight, the bird is identified. Our theories and conjectures are set at rest. The operator, changing his wave-length suddenly from 600 to 300 metres, succeeds in taking a message. '_From Bermuda_'--of all places--'_to ABMV German armed submarine left Newport eighth stop take all precautions ends_.' A submarine! And we had thought the limits of their activity stopped at thirty degrees west. Even the Atlantic is not now broad enough! The definite message serves to clear our doubts. A submarine from Newport will certainly go down off Nantucket. Our course should now take us ninety miles south of that. There remains the measure of his activity. A fighting submarine that can navigate such a distance is new to us. His speed and armament are unknown. We can hardly gauge his movements by standards of the types we know. We are unarmed; our seventeen knots top speed may not be fast enough for an unknown super-submarine. Crowded as we are by civilian pa.s.sengers, we cannot stand to gunfire. A hit will be sheer murder. It is a problem! We return to the deck and make three figures of that ninety miles.

The pulse of the ship beats high in the thrust and tremor of the engines, now opened out to their utmost speed; the clean-cut bow wave breaks well aft, shewing level and unhindered progress. In the calm weather, the whirl of our black smoke hangs low astern, joining the sea and sky in a dense curtain; we are prompted by it to a wish for misty weather when day breaks--to make a good screen to our progress. Though dark, the night is clear. A weak moon stands in the east, shedding sufficient light to brighten the lift. We overhaul some west-bound vessels in our pa.s.sage and warn them by signal. Two have already taken Bermuda's message and are alert, but one has no wireless, and is heading up across our course. We speak her; her lights go out quickly, and she turns south after us.

Daybreak comes with the thin vapours of settled weather that may turn to a helpful haze under the warm sun. We zigzag in a wide S from the first grey half-light, for we are now due south of the Lightship. In the smooth gla.s.sy surface of the sea we have an aid to our best defence--the measure of our eyes. We note a novel vigilance in the watchkeepers, a suppressed anxiety that was not ours in the infinitely more dangerous waters of the channels. The unusual circ.u.mstance of zigzagging and straining look-out for a periscope almost in American waters has gripped us. Every speck of flotsam is scanned in apprehension. The far-thrown curl of our displacement spitting on the eddy of the zigzag, throws up a feather that calls for frequent scrutiny. We have no lack of unofficial a.s.sistance in our look-out. From early morning, the pa.s.sengers are astir--each one entrammelled in a life-jacket that reminds them continually of danger. For the children, it is a new game--a source of merriment--but their elders are gravely concerned. Gazing constantly outboard and around, they add eyes to our muster. Every hour that pa.s.ses without event seems to increase the tension; the size and numbers of enemy vessels grow with the day. A telegraph-cable ship at work is hailed as 'a raider in sight'--a Boston sea-tug, towing barges south, is taken for a supply-ship with submarines in tow.

The wireless operator reports from time to time. The 'humming bird'

(whoever he is) has ceased jamming. The air is full of call and counter-call. Halifax is working with an unknown sea-station--long messages in code. Coastal stations are joined in the 'mix-up.' Cape Cod is offering normal 'traffic' to the American steamer _St. Paul_, as though there was no word of anything happening within reach of the radio. It is all very perplexing. Perhaps the Bermuda message was a hoax; some 'neutral' youth on the coast may have been working an unofficial outfit, as had been done before. Anon, an intercepted message comes through. A Hollands steamer sends out '_S.O.S._ . . . _S.O.S._. . .'

but gives no name or position. Then there is silence; nothing working, but distant mutterings from Arlington.

Throughout the day we swing through calm seas, shying at each crazy angle of the zigzag in a turn that slows the measured beat of the engines. Night coming and the haze growing in intensity, we use the lead--sounding at frequent intervals--and note the lessening depth that leads us in to the land. At eight, we reach six fathoms--the limit of American territorial waters. It is with no disguised relief we turn north and steer a straight course.

Although now less concerned with the possibility of enemy interference, we have anxiety enough in the navigation of a coastal area in hazy weather. We reduce speed. The mist has deepened to a vapour that hangs low in the direction of the sh.o.r.e. House lights glimmer here and there, but only by the lead are we able to keep our distance. A glow of light over Atlantic City shews itself mistily through a rift in the haze and gives an approximation of our lat.i.tude, but it is Barnegat's quick-flashing lighthouse beam that establishes our confidence and enables us to proceed at better speed. We shew no lights. For all we are in American waters, we have not forgotten _Gulflight_ and _Nebraskan_ and other international 'situations'; we look for no consideration from the enemy and preserve a keen look-out. Vessels pa.s.s us in the night bound south with their deck lights ablaze, but we stand on up the coast with not a glimmer to show our presence. Turning wide out to the shoal-water off Navesink, we sight the pilot steamer lying to. We switch on all lights and steer towards her.

It is not often one finds the New York pilots unready, but our sudden arrival has taken them aback. We have to wait. Daybreak is creeping in when the yawl comes alongside with our man. He is an old Swedish-American whom we had long suspected of pro-German leanings, but the relief and enthusiasm on his honest old face is undisguised. "Gott!

I am glat to see yo, Cabtin," he calls. "Dere vas a rumour dat yo vas down too! Yoost now, ven yo signal de name of de ship, I vas glat--glat!" He is full of his news; there are rumours and rumours. 'The White Star mailboat is down,' 'a Prince liner is overdue,' 'there are fears for a Lamport and Holt boat.' In view of our safe arrival, he is prepared to discount the rumours. What is certain is that U 53 has arrived in these waters, and has already sunk six large ships off Nantucket.

A day later we turn to the commercial pages of the _New York Herald_.

Our arrival is reported, and it seems that the sovereign is now worth $4.72 1/16!

IX

INDEPENDENT SAILINGS

UNTIL nearly three years of war had gone on, we sailed independently as 'single' ships, setting our speeds and courses and conforming only to the general route instructions of the Admiralty. The submarine menace did not come upon us in a sudden intensity. Its operation was gradually unfolded and counter-measures were as methodically advanced to meet it.

The earliest precaution took the form of a wide separation of the ships, branching the sea-routes apart on the sound theory that submarines would have voyaging to do to reach their victims. While this was a plan of value on the high seas, it could not be pursued in the narrower waters of the channels. Destroyers in sufficient numbers not being available to patrol these waters, fishing craft--trawlers and drifters--were commissioned to that service. Being of moderate speed, their activities were not devoted to a ma.s.s operation, by which they could group the merchantmen together for protection. The custom was still to separate them as widely as possible, each zigzagging on her own plan. Until the convoy system was established, measures for our protection did not take the form of naval escorts sailing in our company: such vessels were only provided for transports or for ships on military service: vessels on commercial voyages were largely left to their own resources when clear of harbour limits.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FIREMEN STANDING BY TO RELIEVE THE WATCH]

That all sea-going vessels should carry a wireless installation was one of the first measures enforced by Admiralty. The magnificent resources of the Marconi Company, though strained, were equal to the task. There was a life-labour alone in the technical education of their operators, but they drilled the essentials of their practice into landward youths in a few months--blessed them with a probationer's licence--and sent them to sea. It is idle to speculate on what we could have done without this communication with the beach: it is inconceivable that we could have served the sea as we have done. Throughout the length of channel waters, we were constantly in visual touch with the patrols, but in the more open seas we relied on the wireless to keep us informed of enemy activities. At first, we were lavish in its use. The air was scored by messages--'back chat' was indulged in by the operators. An _S.O.S._ (and they were frequent) was instant signal for a confusion of inquiries--a battery of call and counter call--that often prevented the ready succour of a vessel in distress. We grew wiser. We put a seal on the switch. Regulations came into force to restrain unnecessary 'sparking'; we sat in to listen and record, and only to speak when we were spoken to.

Codes were issued by the Admiralty for use at sea. Their early cryptogram was easily decoded by friend and enemy alike. Knowing that certain words would a.s.suredly be embodied in the text of a message (words such as, _from_--_lat.i.tude_--_report_--_submarine_--_master_), it was not difficult to decipher a code of alphabetical sequence. There were famous stories of traitors and spies, but our authoritative simplicity was responsible for the occasional leakage of information. At this date, 1915-16, wireless position-detectors came into use by the enemy. A spark-group, repeated after an interval, could give a fair approximation of distance and course and speed. More than ever it was necessary to maintain silence when at sea. Withal, the air was still in strong voice. At regular periods the great longsh.o.r.e radios threw out war warnings to guide us in a choice of routes and warn us away from mined areas. Patrols and war craft kept up an incessant, linking report.

Distress signals hissed into the atmosphere in urgent sibilance, then faltered and died away. On occasion, the high note of a _Telefunken_ set invited a revealing confidence that would lead us, 'chicky-chicky,' to the block. We were well served by Marconi.

Extension of the power of enemy submarines brought new practice to our seafaring. We had made the most of a pa.s.sage by the land, steering so close that the workers in the fields paused in their toil and waved us on; but the new under-water craft crept in as close, and mined the fairways. We were ordered to open sea again, to steer the shortest course by which we could reach a depth of water that could not be mined.

Zigzag progress now a.s.sumed the importance that was ever its right. It had been but cursorily maintained. The 'shortest distance between two points' had, for so long, been our rule that many masters were unwilling to steer in tangents. On pa.s.sage in the more open sea, they were soon converted to a belief in the efficacy of a crazy course. Statistics of our losses proved the virtue of the tangent: of a group of six vessels sunk in a certain area only one--a very slow vessel--was torpedoed while maintaining a zigzag. Extracts from the diary of a captured submarine commander were circulated among us, giving ground for our confidence, in the frequent admissions of failure--"owing to a sudden and unexpected alteration of course."

Still, we were unarmed. If, by zigzag and a keen look-out, we were fortunate in evading torpedo attack, the submarine had by now mounted a surface armament, and we were exposed to another equally deadly offence.

For our protection, Admiralty placed a new type of warship on the routes approaching the channels. Built originally for duty as minesweepers, the sloops were faster and more heavily armed than the drifters. They patrolled in a chain of five or six over the routes that we were instructed to use. During the daylight hours we were rarely out of sight of one or other of the vessels forming the chain. Our route orders were framed towards a definite point of departure into the high seas when darkness came. There, the patrol of the sloops ended: we had the hours of the night to make our offing and, by daybreak again, were a.s.sumed to be clear of the 'danger zone.' But the 'danger zone' was being extended swiftly; it was not always possible to traverse the area in the dark hours of a night: only the fast liners could stretch out a speed that would serve. Profiting by experience that was constantly growing, the _Reichsmarineamt_ constructed larger submarines capable of remaining long at sea, and of operating in ocean areas that could not adequately be patrolled. Twelve, fifteen--then twenty degrees of longitude marked their activity advancing to the westward: they went south to thirty-five: in time the Mediterranean became a field for their efforts. Gunfire being the least expensive, they relied on their deck armament to destroy unarmed shipping. The patrols were but rarely in sight; the submarine became a surface destroyer. There was no necessity for submergence on the ocean routes: under-water tactics were held in reserve for use against fast ships--the slower merchantmen were brought-to in a contest that was wholly in favour of the U-boat. In a heavy Atlantic gale, _Cabotia_ was sunk by gunfire, 120 miles from land.

She had not the speed to escape. Despite the heavy seas that swept over the submarine and all but washed the gunner from the deck, the enemy was able to keep up a galling fire that ultimately forced the master to abandon his ship. _Virginia_ was fired upon at midnight when steering for the Cerigo Channel. Notwithstanding the courage of Captain Coverley, who remained on board to the last, there could be but one end to the contest. _Virginia_ was sunk. A strong ship; the enemy had to expend two of his torpedoes to destroy her.

Against such attacks only one measure could be advocated--the measure we had for so long been demanding. It was impossible to patrol adequately all the areas of our voyaging. Guns were served to us and we derived a confidence that the enemy quickly appreciated. We did not expect wholly to reduce his surface action, but we could and did expose him to the risk he had come so far out to sea to avoid. On countless occasions our new armament had effect in keeping him to his depths, with the consequent waste of his mobile battery power. Even in gun action he could no longer impose his own speed power on a slow ship. Under conditions that he judged favourable to his gunnery, the submarine commander still exercised his ordnance--usually after a torpedo had failed to reach its mark. Many of the hazards were against us, but our weapons brought the contest to a less unequal balance. If we did present the larger target, we had--in our steady emplacement--a better platform from which to direct our fire. From the first it was a compet.i.tion of range and calibre. Six-pounders led to twelves; these in turn gave way to 4.7's. Anon, the enemy mounted a heavier weapon, to which we replied by a new type of 4-inch, sighted to 13,000 yards.

Thus armed and equipped, we were in better condition to meet the enemy in our independent sailings. He was again obliged largely to return to the use of his torpedoes, with all the maze of under-water approach that that form of attack involved. If outranged in a surface action, we had our smoke-producing apparatus to set up a screen to his sh.e.l.l-fire, and that form of defence had the added value of forcing him to proceed at a high and uneconomical speed to press an attack. Some of our gun actions resulted in destruction of a sea-pest, but all--however unsuccessful--contributed to lessen his power of offence. Every torpedo fired, every hour of submergence, every knot of speed expended in a chase, was so far a victory for us as to hasten the date when he would be obliged to head back to his base. His chances of survival in that pa.s.sage through the patrols and the nets and mines could not be considered as good.

[Ill.u.s.tration: QUEEN'S DOCK, GLASGOW]