Chapter X: The End of a Submarine

Two days before, in a spot somewhat south of the area we were going out to patrol, a submarine had attacked a convoy and sunk a horse boat. I had the story of the affair months afterwards from an American sailor who had seen it all from a nearby ship. This sailor, no other than my friend Giles, had been stationed in the lookout when he heard a thundering pound, and looking to port, he saw a column of water hanging just amidships of the torpedoed vessel, a column that broke crashing over the decks. In about three minutes the ship broke in two, the bow and the stern rising like the points of a shallow V, and in five minutes she sank. The sea was strewn with straw; there were broken stanchions floating in the confused water, and a number of horses could be seen swimming about. "All you could see was their heads; they looked awful small in all that water. Some of the horses had men hanging to them. There was a lot of yelling for help." The other ships of the convoy had run for dear life; the destroyers had raced about like hornets whose nest is disturbed, but the submarine escaped.

We left a certain harbour at about three in the afternoon. Many of the destroyers were out at sea taking in a big troop convoy and the harbour seemed unusually still. The town also partook of this quiet, the long lateral lines of climbing houses staring out blankly at us like unresponsive acquaintances. Very few folk were to be seen on the street. We were bound forth on an adventure that was drama itself, a drama which even then the Fates, unknown to us, were swiftly weaving into a tragedy of vengeance, yet I shall never forget how casual and undramatic the Esplanade appeared. A loafer or two lounged by the door of the public house, a little group of sailors passed, a jaunting car went swiftly on its way to the station; there was nothing to suggest that these isles were beleaguered; nothing told of the remorseless enemy at the gates of the sea.

All night long under a gloomy, starless sky we patrolled waters dark as the very waves of the Styx. The hope that nourished us was the thought of finding a submarine on the surface, but we heard no noise through the mysterious dark, and a long, interminable dawn revealed to us nothing but the high crumbling cliffs of a lonely and ill-reputed bay. Where were _they_ then, I have often wondered? When had they their last look at the sun? Had they any consciousness of the end which time was bringing to them with a giant's hurrying step? At about six o'clock we swung off to the southward, and in a short time the coast had faded from sight.

From six o'clock to about half past ten we swept in great circles and lines the mist encircled disk of the pale sea which had been entrusted to our keeping. We were at hand to answer any appeal for aid which might flutter through the air, to investigate any suspicious wreckage; above all, to fulfill our function of destruction. I have spoken elsewhere of the terror which lurks in the word _destroyer_. We were hunters; beaters of the ambush of the sea. About us lay the besieged waters, yellow green in colour, vexed with tide rips and mottled with shadows of haze and appearances of shoal.

We were on the bridge. Suddenly a voice called down the tube from the lookout on the mast:

"Smoke on the horizon just off the port bow, sir."

In a little while a vague smudginess made itself seen along the humid southeast, and some fifteen minutes later there emerged from this smudge the advance vessels of a convoy. Now one by one, now in twos and threes, the vessels of the convoy climbed over the dim edge of the world, a handful of destroyers accompanying the fleet. Almost every ship was camouflaged, though the largest of all, a great ocean drudge of a cargo boat, still preserved her decency of dull grey. A southeast wind blowing from behind the convoy sent the smoke of the funnels over the bows and down the western sky. There was something indescribably furtive about the whole business. The ships were going at their very fastest, but to us they seemed to be going very slowly, to be drifting almost, across the southern sky. "We advanced," as our report read later, "to take up a position with the convoy." The watch, always keen on the 660, redoubled its vigilance. The bait was there; the hunt was on. Now, if ever, was the time for submarines. I remember somebody saying, "We may see a sub." The destroyer advanced to within three miles of the convoy, which was then across her bow. The morning was sunny and clear; the sun high in the north.

"Periscope! Port bow," suddenly cried the surgeon of the ship, then on watch on the bridge. "About three hundred yards away, near that sort of a barrel thing over there. See it? It's gone now."

Powerful glasses swept the suspected area. The captain, cool as ice, took his stand by the wheel.

"There it is again, sir. About seventy-five yards nearer this way."

This time it was seen by all who stood by. The periscope was extraordinarily small, hardly larger than a stout hoe handle, and not more than two feet above the choppy sea.

"Full speed ahead," said the captain. "Sound general quarters."

I do not think there was a heart there that was not beating high, but outwardly things went on just as calmly as they had before the periscope had been sighted.

The fans of the extra boilers began to roar. The general quarters alarm, a continuous ringing, sounded its shrill call. Men tumbled to their stations from every corner of the ship, some going to the torpedo tubes, some to the guns, others to the depth charges at the stern. The wake of the destroyer, now tearing along at full speed, resembled a mill race. And now the destroyer began a beautiful manoeuvre. She became the killer, the avenger of blood. Leaving her direct course, she turned hard over to port, and at the point where her curve cut the estimated course of the German, she tossed over a buoy to mark the spot at which the German had been seen and released a depth bomb. The iron can rolled out of its chocks, and fell with a little splash into the foaming wake. The buoy, a mere wooden platform with a bit of rag, tied to an upright stick wobbled sillily behind. For about four seconds nothing happened. Then the seas behind us gave a curious, convulsive lift, one might have thought that the ocean had drawn a spasmodic breath; over this lifted water fled a frightful glassy tremor, and an instant later there broke forth with a thundering pound a huge turbid geyser which subsided, splashing noisily into streaks and eddies of foam and purplish dust. The destroyer then dropped three more in a circle round the first--a swift cycle of thundering crashes. Meanwhile the convoy, warned by our signal and by the uproar turned tail and fled from the spot. Great streamers of heavy black smoke poured from the many funnels, revealing the search for speed. In the area we had bombed, a number of dead fish began to be seen floating in the scum. By this time some of the vessels from the escort of the convoy had rushed to our assistance, and round and round the buoy they tore, dropping charge after charge. The ocean now became literally speckled with dead whiting, and I saw something that looked like an enormous eel floating belly upwards.

The convoy disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Little by little the excitement died away. Finally the only vessel left in sight on the broad shield of the sea was another American destroyer, our partner on patrol. The 305 was fitted with listening devices, and she agreed to remain behind to keep an eye and ear open. We were to have a word from her every half hour.

From twelve noon to two o'clock there were no tidings of importance. At 2:20, however, this laconic message sent us hurrying back to the scene of the morning's combat.

"Signs of oil coming to surface."

What had happened in the darkness below those yellow green waves? I am of the opinion that our first bomb, dropped directly upon her, crushed the submarine in like an egg-shell, that she had then sunk to the bottom, and developed a slow leak.

The 660 returned through a choppy sea to the battleground of the morning. We caught sight of the other destroyer from afar. She lay on the flank of a great area defiled by the bodies of fish, purple T.N.T. dust and various bits of muddy wreckage which the explosions had shaken free from the ooze. Gulls, already attracted to the spot, were circling about, uttering hoarse cries. In the heart of this disturbed area lay a great still pool of shining water and into this pool, from somewhere in the depths, huge bubbles of molasses-brown oil were rising. Reaching the surface, these bubbles spread into filmy pan cakes round whose edges little waves curled and broke.