Chapter XI: Of My First Experiences as a Sub

Where the East wind is brewed fresh and fresh every morning
And the balmy night-breezes blow straight from the Pole,
I heard a destroyer sing: "What an enjoyable
life does one lead on the 'Channel' Patrol.

. . . . . .

"We warn from disaster the mercantile master
Who takes in high dudgeon our life-saving rôle,
For every one's grousing at docking and dowsing
The marks and the lights on the 'Channel' Patrol."

. . . . . .

So swept but surviving, half drowned but still driving,
Watched her head out through the swell off the shoal,
And I heard her propellers roar: "Write to poor fellers
Who run such a hell as the 'Channel' Patrol!"

KIPLING

The course in the _Vernon_ lasted for one week, and when it was finished we were free to go on leave till we received our new appointments.

After about seven days' leave I was appointed as second in command of H.M.S. _P——_, based at Portsmouth, and arriving in that town on the evening of October 1, in accordance with instructions I reported myself at the R.N. barracks.

It appeared that nothing was known there as to the movements of ships, and I was referred to the Commodore's office. There I could glean little more information, but was advised to go down to Boat House Jetty, where _P——_ was always berthed when in harbour. However, at the moment she was not there, so I returned to the Commodore's office to ask where I could be billeted for the night. They told me I could get a bed at the Navigation School, and that the first thing in the morning I should go down to Captain "D.'s" office, as all patrol-boats and destroyers being under his direct orders, his secretary would be able to give me definite information as to when my ship was expected in. Accordingly at 9 A.M. next morning I made my way to the said office and reported. The A.P.R.N.R., who was Captain "D.'s" secretary, informed me that _P——_ was out, but would probably be in that afternoon, and advised me to return about 4 P.M. This I did—but found I had missed her again, for though she had come in at three o'clock she had only stayed for half an hour.

That evening I got a note from the Sub. of another boat saying that if I would come aboard his ship at 11 A.M. next morning I should there meet the First Lieutenant of _P——_, whom I was relieving. I wondered what on earth he could be doing on another boat when his own was, I knew, at sea, but on meeting him I learned that she had unexpectedly received immediate sailing orders while he was on short leave ashore and had to leave without him. Having thus missed her (at Devonport), he had hurried round by train to Portsmouth—only to miss her again!

I lunched on board with the two Subs., and afterwards went with M—— to the pay office in barracks to draw a month's pay which was due to the ship's company of _P——_. When we returned, we found that she had come in, and was lying at a buoy in mid-stream. We made a signal for a boat, and shortly afterwards a skiff arrived, with my new Skipper, Lieutenant ——, R.N.R., in the stern-sheets. After I had been introduced to him by the Sub. I was relieving, he went off to Captain "D.'s" office to get sailing orders and confidential papers, and M—— and I embarked in the skiff and proceeded to _P——_.

I had left my gear on the "beach," intending to fetch it later, but very soon the Captain returned with immediate sailing orders, and I had to go off without it.

M—— and I kept the first watch on that night, which looked like being quite a dirty one.

The bridge was by no means water-tight, and the spray that poured through every crack and cranny penetrated also up our sleeves and down our necks, so that we were soon soaked to the skin. The ship rolled so violently that presently the topmast snapped off short and came down with a crash on the chart-house, waking up the Captain, who had been trying to get some sleep. He at once came out on to the bridge and took charge, while he ordered us to go and see that the watch secured the mast as well as possible and refixed the wireless. This was no easy job in half a gale, and with the boat rolling and pitching to every point of the compass, but in the end it was accomplished fairly satisfactorily—although, with the broken mast sticking out at an acute angle, the ship must have presented rather a drunken appearance. Then we returned to our post on the bridge, and the Skipper was able to resume his interrupted slumbers.

All went well until midnight, when we were relieved by the Gunner, and went aft to try and snatch some sleep before 4 A.M. when we should again be required to go on watch. Getting aft was a matter of some difficulty, as waves were sweeping green over the deck, and we had to cling tightly to the life-lines to avoid being washed overboard, and by the time we reached the wardroom hatch we hadn't a dry stitch on us. Even when we got below we had to hang on for dear life to prevent ourselves from being thrown violently from one bulkhead to the other.

I did not get a wink of sleep that night, for my whole attention was concentrated on the frantic effort to remain in my bunk. Boots and other articles slithered back and forth on the deck in a slimy ooze of oil fuel and sea water, and more than once I had to jump out and rescue my clothes from the mess. Pandemonium was loose! At one moment the bath broke away from the three hooks by which it was suspended from the deck above, and landed with a crash in the narrow space between the chest of drawers and the bunk.

Altogether it was with positive relief that I greeted the burly dripping figure in oilskins and sea boots who came to call me for the morning watch; and shoving on as many clothes as I could over the pyjamas I had borrowed from the Sub., I once more made my way on to the bridge.

About an hour later the dawn broke grey and dismal, and I could just distinguish the faint line of the French coast.... Our mission accomplished, we set our helm hard aport and proceeded to batter our way back to Portsmouth with wind and sea full in our faces.

At 8.30 A.M. the Gunner again relieved us, and we went down to the wardroom in search of breakfast. Here, amid a mad medley of cutlery, crockery, and cruets, we found a nasty-looking piece of cold bacon skidding giddily over the table in company with a loathly-looking loaf of bread. Presently the steward appeared juggling with two brimming cups of tea, and strenuously endeavouring to keep his balance on the swaying deck. With pardonable triumph at having brought them from the pantry without upsetting them, he placed the cups on the table, where they added to the general confusion by promptly slopping their contents over everything.

In order to avoid being shot off our chairs we had to hang on with one hand while we tried to feed ourselves with the other. I had quite an exciting time trying to spear pieces of bacon with a fork, my plate always sliding away to the other side of the table at the crucial moment! In the end I became quite an expert at the job, and managed to consume really a considerable amount. (_N.B._ Try our new parlour-game: "Pig-Sticking" on a destroyer in mid-Channel!) Fortunately for me, I am what is known as a "good sailor," and have never yet experienced the miseries of seasickness. What service in small craft must mean for those with less tractable tummies I shudder to think.

We sighted the Isle of Wight about 3 P.M. and were congratulating ourselves on the fact that within an hour and a half we should be safely berthed in Portsmouth, and with any luck would get a night in, as the ship had been running exceptionally hard for a week past.... But our congratulations were premature, for when we drew near our objective we received a signal ordering us to anchor as convenient and await the arrival of another "P." boat which was bringing us our sailing orders. This meant that yet another night's work was before us. So, having anchored in accordance with instructions, we promptly turned in to try and get some sleep before we had to again proceed to sea.

Our sailing orders arrived about two hours later, and their purport proved particularly annoying for both M—— and me, for it meant that he would be detained on the ship for another thirty-six hours or so, and for the like period I should still be without my clothes, etc. It will be remembered that I had had to come away without my gear, which was still at Portsmouth. However, we had to make the best of it.

We got under way at about 8 P.M., did our job, and after an uneventful trip returned to our base, and finally secured alongside Boat House Jetty at 10 A.M. on a Sunday morning.

The other Sub. went off immediately to take up his new appointment, and I very thankfully collected my belongings.

It was about 3.30 on that afternoon when we learned that we were required to take the place of a T.B. which had unexpectedly been forced to dock, and in company with another patrol-boat execute certain orders. The T.B. we were replacing was down to remain at the destination whither we were bound over Monday, but as we were due to commence our periodical boiler-cleaning that morning, our Captain made a signal to Captain "D." asking if we were to remain at the place in question in accordance with these sailing orders, or to return to Portsmouth as per schedule. His reply was that we were to return.

We left harbour at 4 P.M., and in a howling gale dropped anchor at the spot indicated in our instructions. Very soon we found that one anchor would not hold—we had already dragged about half a mile—and I had to go up on to the fo'c'sle and superintend the letting go of another....

At 8 P.M. we weighed both and proceeded to execute the duty required of us. I had the first watch: there was a very heavy sea running, and the wind being on our starboard quarter, I had to take great care that the ship did not get into the trough of the waves, in which case she would not have answered to her helm.

About 11.30 course was altered, bringing wind and sea dead on our beam, and the ship's head had to be continually brought up to meet the waves.

However, nothing untoward occurred, and at midnight I was relieved by the Gunner. As on the previous night, the violent motion effectually prevented me from sleeping, and at 4 A.M. I had to go on watch again. Then I found that we were already on our homeward course.

The ship was steering very badly, and in order to keep her on her course the port engine had to be kept dead slow, which greatly reduced our speed. When I had been on the bridge for about half an hour the steering-gear broke down altogether, which involved conning by engines alone. With starboard going full ahead, and port slow astern, she would hardly swing through a degree. I sent for an E.R.A. (engine-room artificer) to endeavour to repair the steering-gear, and, through the voice-pipe, informed the Captain, who was sleeping in the chart-house, of the state of affairs. Owing to the violence of the storm we were making considerable leeway, and being unable to keep within 20° of our course, were carried some distance to eastward.

At dawn, the steering-gear having been repaired, we were able to again make headway in the right direction, and the Captain now tried to work out our position by dead reckoning. This was a very difficult job, as there was no possible means of ascertaining how far we had drifted from our course. However, he proved himself a highly skilled navigator, for, although the land was completely obscured by heavy rain squalls, at 11 A.M. we exactly hit off the buoy which marks the entrance to the Channel.

Owing to the fury of wind and waves we had sustained considerable damage. The stout iron stanchions supporting the engine-room hatch were bent; the port foremost Berthon boat had broken adrift from its securing chains; several ventilators had been unshipped, and every one of our fenders had been swept overboard. But by 1.30 P.M. we were safely secured alongside Boat House Jetty, and one watch proceeded on leave.

I had to remain in charge on board, but dined with the Gunner of _P——_, which was lying alongside. He was an old friend, as he had been in charge of the cadets at Dartmouth during the one term I spent there.

A week later, the boiler-cleaning being finished and the damage aforementioned having been made good, we were once more ready for sea, and in due course received sailing orders....

We arrived at our first destination at about 3 P.M. T.B. —— made fast astern of us, and after I had seen her secured I turned in until 7.30, when we once more got under way and proceeded into harbour. Here we made fast alongside the ——, which was nice and handy for getting ashore. I was not greatly impressed with —— as a town, but it afforded an opportunity for some much-needed exercise.

At 5.30, in company with another "P." boat we steamed out of harbour to find a stiff breeze blowing, and the tide setting strongly against the wind. This created a nasty chop on the water, but, as the ship we had to shepherd carried no signalman, in order to facilitate communication with her in reference to course to be steered, etc., we decided to secure alongside her until 8 P.M., when she was due to get under way. When we had made fast, _P——_ secured alongside us, thus bringing the full strain of two boats on our hawsers. I heard our wire beginning to strand, so gave the order to ease away and take the strain on the grass line, but that had no sooner tautened than it parted. Directing the men to pay out the wire as slowly as possible, I dispatched a messenger aft to the Captain to inform him that we should not be able to hold on much longer. Before he had time to give orders to let go aft and get way on, the wire was all paid out and we had to let the end go overboard, as, had it parted, it would naturally have flown back, and probably caused serious injury to those on the fo'c'sle. The remaining securing lines had then to be let go, and thus we were left, drifting about the roads with no way on, and still secured to and bumping _P——_. After considerable trouble we managed to get free and dropped our anchor. By this time it was 7.30, so we had only half an hour for dinner, after which we weighed anchor again.

I had the first watch, during which no incident occurred, and I turned in at midnight. When I returned to the bridge at 4 A.M. I found that the night was now calm and clear, but it was very dark and there was no moon. I took over from the Gunner, who went below to turn in. All went well for about twenty minutes. Then—suddenly—about one point on our starboard bow, I saw all steaming lights of another vessel switched on!

Now, by rule of the road at sea, as the stranger was on our starboard hand, we were bound to give way to her and pass under her stern, so I gave the order, "Hard aport." Unfortunately she was so very close that there was no time to get full helm on, and seeing that a collision was inevitable I gave the order, "Stop both," and dashing to the starboard telegraph myself put it to "Stop." Before I had even let go of the handle there came a mighty crash ... the ship quivered from stem to stern and stopped dead.

The Captain was beside me in an instant. "What are we doing?" he demanded ... meaning what orders had I issued. I replied, "All stopped, sir."

Then we looked over the canvas screen and saw that the other boat had her bows locked into our fo'c'sle, and had heeled over to an acute angle as she struck. For the moment we thought she must sink—but, hailing her, the Captain requested her Commander to keep her bows locked in until we had ascertained the extent of the damage. It would appear, however, that he did not hear the hail, for he promptly went astern and backed out.

As the water rushed in through the rent in our side we began to go down by the bows, and for an anxious moment we thought we were done for ... but by good luck we still floated.

Leaving me to superintend the getting out of the collision-mat, my Skipper signalled to the ship that had rammed us—which, by the way, was another "P." boat—asking if we could give her any help. She replied in the negative, saying that so far as she could ascertain she was not damaged, and was returning to her base.

After I had reported to the Captain that the collision-mat was in place, he ordered me to go below and superintend the shoring up of the bulkheads. The stokers off watch, and the watch below, under the directions of the Engineer, had already collected all spare balks of timber, mess stools, etc., for this purpose. The hatch leading to the coxswain's storeroom had been opened up and it was discovered that we were making no water abaft the compartment in which we had been holed.

When I had seen the bulkheads shored up to my satisfaction, I reported to the Captain on the bridge. Every possible precaution for insuring the safety of the ship having now been taken, he decided that it would be best to get under way immediately, and endeavour to get back to Portsmouth without further delay, in case it came on to blow and the sea got up. At the moment, fortunately for us, it was quite calm. Not feeling certain that the bulkheads would withstand the strain of going ahead, and not knowing the extent of the damage the ship had sustained below the water-line, the Captain decided to proceed stern first until daylight enabled us to make a more thorough examination.

We had been struck a bare six feet forward of the stoker's mess deck, the foremost living-space in this class of ship, in view of which fact we were uncommonly lucky in that no lives were lost, nor had any of the crew been injured.

We were obliged to proceed dead slow as, owing to her overhanging counter, the slightest sea jarred the ship horribly, and stern first at this speed she steered very badly. It was only with the greatest difficulty that I was able to keep her within five degrees of the course without having to supplement the helm by continually altering the revolutions of the engines.

When daylight came, I went with the Captain on to the fo'c'sle, and then we discovered that the collision-mat was quite inadequate—in fact it had already carried away and was towing aimlessly alongside. I ventured to suggest to the Skipper that it might be a good plan to fill up the hole with fenders, to which he agreed, and leaving me to summon the watch and get the job duly executed, he returned to the bridge to give the necessary orders for bringing the ship round, as he considered that it was now safe to proceed in the orthodox manner—bows first.

Having seen the work on the fo'c'sle accomplished, I once more resumed my morning watch, and after the Captain had given orders for a stoker to be posted on the mess deck, with instructions to give immediate warning in the event of the bulkhead showing any signs of giving, he retired below.

About 7.30, as everything seemed to be holding well, I ventured to increase speed to 10 knots. At 8 I was relieved by the Gunner and went down to breakfast; after which, at the request of the Captain, I made out a rough report of the orders I had given in respect of helm and engines in the moments immediately preceding the collision. This, after revision, would be embodied in the statement he would have to forward to Captain "D." as soon as we reached harbour. We had already dispatched a wireless message to the effect that we had been in collision and were returning to our base.

Finally, at about 3 P.M. we entered harbour and secured at our usual berth.

I was in a bit of a funk that I should have to appear before a court of inquiry. However, it must be assumed that on the report sent in by my Skipper and the Commander of the ship with which we had had the misfortune to collide, the C.-in-C. was satisfied that everything possible had been done: that in the circumstances the collision could not have been avoided, and that no blame attached to the officers on watch at the time.

Nevertheless, since accidents must be sternly discouraged, the Captains were admonished, and warned that a still stricter lookout must be kept in future.... This was very rough on them, as naturally every precaution is taken to keep as keen a lookout as possible, not only with a view to avoiding disaster, but also in hope of locating and perhaps, with luck, strafing a U-boat.

The responsibilities of a Commanding Officer must needs weigh heavily, for it is obvious that the High Command can take no cognizance of that occult and fickle factor "luck," and naval discipline in war-time must be merciless.

Little wonder that the N.O. is inclined to be superstitious, and to burn incense at the shrine of Joss!

A week later, my ship being in dock, I was able to go home on two weeks' leave. Oh, most certainly collisions are severely to be deprecated!... But—the cloud had a silver lining!

_Here the Midshipman's record ends...._

_In common with so many of his contemporaries, it has been given him to condense into a few short years of extreme youth experience and adventure enough for a lifetime ... and who shall say what yet lies behind the veil of mystery and wonder that so mercifully shrouds the future. Gleaming bright with the gold of our dreams, or darkened by futile folly of our fears, no man may lift that veil and live.... But Faith shall make of it a thing of Beauty. Our cause is just._ _We give it our Best, in the belief that somehow—somewhere—it will be well with these our Beloved: and so it must needs be well with us._

_What matter to-morrow—there's courage enough for to-day._

"Gay gallant lives so oft at stake,
Danger and you are such old friends
That we have learned to mock it for your sake."

AVE!—ATQUE VALE.

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Transcriber's Notes

Minor punctuation and printer errors repaired.

Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and upright text surrounded by italic text with ~tildes~.