
A Novel of the Submarine Branch
The characters in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any living person
Copyright 1952 by
Once a year the Submarine Branch of the Royal Navy holds its annual reunion of submarine officers. It is heavily attended by "submariners" past and present, and has been going on for the past half-century. At these gatherings we meet all the officer-friends we ever had in submarines and occasionally an old enemy. The years drop away; time means nothing; the Sub-Lieutenant of fifty-one talks reverently to the Lieutenant of sixty-four and is called " sir" by the Admiral of forty-nine. One talks and talks, and occasionally listens, until at a chosen moment the Admiral Commanding Submarines speaks.
He bids us welcome, and tells us how things have gone in the past year. He speaks of grievous losses, of hopes for the future, of the passing of old-timers, and of the recruiting of the young. He bids us come again; and this we do, for we never seem to see everybody with whom we would have liked to talk until just before it is time to go home.
This story, part truth and part fiction, is dedicated to the new "submariners," as a small token of our admiration at the way in which they have adjusted themselves to the complications of modern machinery, without losing the human touch, which still makes the submarine reunion the best cocktail party this side of the Styx.
Those who had a hand in the events narrated above will not need to be told that the characterisation in this book is entirely fictional, and is not intended, in any way, to represent any living person.
A grey sky; a sullen sea which merged into an indeterminate horizon; a hot moisture-laden wind, which brought no relief on that sultry afternoon, somewhere near Ceylon. Nothing very pleasant about anything, reflected
The two "lookouts" on the bridge beside him looked at each other and lifted their heads to indicate that it was their bad luck to have to listen yet again, to the navigator's limited repertoire. Silently, one of them passed the other a cigarette, they shared a match and resumed their vigil; for it was war time and even the leaden Indian Ocean could conceal a lurking Jap submarine. It would be a great pity for the Gauntlet, which had survived the last dangerous period in the Mediterranean, to go now; if the officers and crew had anything to do with it, they would certainly continue to survive. "No unnecessary hostages to fortune," was their unwritten law. They were punctilious in watch-keeping, and in the care and maintenance of their vessel. The war was coming to an end, they had achieved much; all the more reason, therefore, to try and survive to reap the fruits of their labours; and now, here they were, speeding towards their destination, Trincomelee, to join up with the Nth Flotilla for the last stages of the war.
"What e'er befall--- I shall recall--- That sunlit mountain side," carolled the navigator; then he caught sight of the Captain's head and shoulders emerging from the conning-tower hatchway and the song died on his lips. In a few seconds the Captain was standing beside him sweeping the horizon with his glasses as a matter of routine more than anything else.
"All right, Pilot," he said in a mild voice, "I'll hold the fort till the Sub comes up---he's gone for the hot roly-poly in rather a big way."
"Thank you, sir," said
"Bully beef and potato pie and hot roly-poly," the First-Lieutenant was saying---"a nice seasonable dish, Chief, but don't you think it's a trifle warming for this climate?"
" Good old Chiefy," said Jones helping himself liberally to a solid mass of pie, "not only does he provide unsuitable food, but he pretends it's good for us."
"So it is," said
"Doesn't prove anything," said Number One, "currie came in to hide the smell of rotten meat, before refrigerators were invented, that's all. Anyway, why roly-poly pudding ? Couldn't we have had some bottled fruit?"
"I'm keeping the fruit for our first patrol out here," said the Chief.
"Jolly good pie all the same," said the Navigator, with his mouth full. "What are you waiting for, Gannet?"
The Sub, whose appetite had earned him the familiar soubriquet grinned. " I was waiting to see whether you'd leave any pudding," he confessed. "I'm rather fond of jam roll."
"Eat the 'orse and chase the rider," he said, as if it were an original statement. "That's what 'e'd do, Number One, wouldn't he, eat the 'orse and chase the rider."
"We'd better get the cox'n to give him a worm-powder," said Number One, coarsely.
"Just because I've a healthy appetite!" complained the Sub.
"Healthy," said
"Have a heart, Chief---don't smoke it till I've finished eating---you've no idea what it pongs like."
"Some people," said the Chief, "don't know good tobacco when they smells it." He went aft to his beloved engines before anyone could think of a suitable rejoinder.
The Gauntlet's wardroom was placed just forward of the control-room. It was a small box-like compartment with built-in bunks, chests of drawers, a settee and a table. Folding camp-stools and a bookcase completed the furnishings and the room itself could be screened from the gangway which gave access to the forward part of the submarine, by a heavy rep curtain. In the temperature prevailing it was never pulled, for the officers preferred the constant traffic of men, backwards and forwards, to the stuffiness which privacy would have entailed. The total size of the wardroom was about half that of a small caravan and in this little box the officers managed to live for periods up to two months at a time. The cooking arrangements were slightly farther forward and consisted of an urn, an oven and a hot-plate. The cook, Able Seaman Bert Davis, known as ever as the "Wardroom flunkey," managed to turn out large quantities of plain but palatable food and made very little fuss about it. Normally, when the submarine was on patrol, the cooking did not take place until after dark, when she was once more on the surface, for during diving hours the temperature was such as to discourage any idea of hot food; moreover it was advisable not to expend any more electricity than was absolutely necessary. On this long passage from Alexandria to Trincomalee, however, something like peace-time routine was being observed. The submarine remained for the most part on the surface, diving for half an hour twice daily to exercise the crew, and was proceeding for the rest of the time at a speed of ten knots towards her destination. Meal times were adjusted to this placid existence, compared to which the hot and humid conditions of fourteen-hour days beneath the surface was purgatory itself.
On this day, the last before their arrival at their destination, there was a general feeling that they had been travelling for a very long time, as indeed they had. They were thoroughly accustomed to the steady purposeful rhythm of the engines, the high temperature had ceased to be remarkable and they were all in that peculiar state of mind which comes to travellers who have been together through a long journey; a great reluctance to have the rhythm broken. The thought of arriving at this new submarine base, under an unknown flotilla Captain, and going off on operations against the Japanese presented no welcome picture. If they had to spend their war at sea in submarines how better than to travel hopefully for ever?
Forward of the wardroom lived the Petty Officers, six in number, who were entitled by rank to mess apart. Theirs was an even smaller compartment than the officers' but the use of folding cots for sleeping gave them more room in proportion. A long table, flanked by large box settees, was the sole furnishing of this mess, apart from a small mirror, and a number of photographs of film stars. The senior member of the mess and, in fact, the senior rating of the Gauntlet was Chief Petty Officer Hinton, a large man, well endowed with all carnal desires. Known throughout the branch as "Guts," because of his corporation, he ruled the submarine with a benevolent despotism which was as inconsistent as it was effective.
He always won his battles, and there were many, for he possessed the traditional feeling of superiority over the engine-room branch, the senior members of which were all of chief-petty-officer status. Only by virtue of his being the disciplinary head of the ship was "Guts" Hinton made an Acting Chief Petty Officer but he never ceased to impress his status upon the inhabitants of the Engine-Room Artificers' Mess. As cox'n of the submarine, moreover, he acted as ship's steward and was in charge of the numerous submarine "comforts" in the form of bottled fruits and other delicacies which are provided to supplement the service rations. These, and the rum ration gave " Guts " Hinton a great deal of power, for he was able to increase, or withhold, his daily issue according to the terms on which he was with the individual members of the crew. If he thought a man had done conspicuously well there was always a second tot of rum for him, neat; if, however, he was displeased with him the first and only tot was already watered. "Guts" had a masterful personality and his misuse of the English language was a lasting delight both to officers and crew. His despotic ways, though resented by many, were recognised as unchangeable, and nobody, even in their most bitter moods of resentment, thought of stating a complaint to the officers.
Hinton's assistant, or second coxswain, was, as might well be expected, a mild mannered chap whose favourite expression was "
The other members of the mess were Jo Parker, the Torpedo Gunner's mate, a worthy married type who was always wiping the stains of " Torpoil" off his long hands with a piece of waste, looking as he did so, very like Lady Macbeth under different circumstances: Tom Gurney, Chief Stoker, and his assistant Fortescue, whose Christian name never emerged, but who was invariably called Clarence because of his slightly patrician surname. '
On the other side of an eighth-of-an-inch plywood bulkhead lived the Artificers, in awful and solitary splendour, under the suzerainty of the Chief, Izzy Sammons, a tough little east-end Jew, who had strayed into the engineering profession as the result of an abortive love-affair in Bermondsey, and having served his apprenticeship, had risen rapidly to Chief, because his native ability and wit made him an outstanding personality. It also made him a natural enemy for a man like the coxswain, and it speaks volumes for the good sense of
The seaman of the submarine messed together with the Telegraphists and Signal ratings in the fore crew space. There were sixteen altogether and because they were able to overflow into the torpedo space forward they had more room than anybody else aboard; while the ten stokers, who lived right aft on top of the propellers, and near the great electric main motors, had by far the worst of it. Apart from the noise, the vibration and the extreme heat, they were cut off from the outer world by the clattering engine-room, and could never have the faintest idea what was going on. Yet, they were a contented lot, who seemed to be completely oblivious of the appalling conditions under which they existed for months at a time. The engine-room of a submarine is a draughty, noisy affair, the stokers mess-deck had a maximum headroom of just over five feet, yet the volunteers continued to pour in to the submarine branch and the standard of health remained exceedingly high. It seems that if you feed and lead men well they can endure the most extraordinary conditions of life. Of food we have already made mention; of leadership as yet we have not, so let us now climb the vertical ladder from the control-room, through the conning-tower, up to the bridge and take a good look at Lieutenant
With all those letters after his name there ought to have been more distinction about
It is customary to describe heroes as being completely oblivious of the affection and respect which they engender in their followers. There may be such people who walk through life on a different plane to their fellow-creatures, but we have never met them.
It is usual when writing about a leader of fighting men to ascribe much higher motives to him than he actually possesses and, by the time he has been dead a hundred years a simple man, who simply did his best, is vested with a spirit of patriotism, which, if he had possessed it, would have made him a better statesman than fighter.
The sole reason for Tommy's devotion to duty was no more than a desire to do what he had been told to do as well as he could do it, and, if possible, to survive to tell the tale, and to live with his pretty young wife who now was busily striving to be a good Wren, so as to take her mind off the dreadful and distinct possibility of waking up to find herself a submarine officer's widow.
The love of
"Finished with the engines." With this utterance IT Tommy laid his burden of responsibility down and was free to look around him at the new world to which he had brought his command.
The Gauntlet was now lying neatly square with three other vessels of the same class alongside the towering sides of the old depot-ship Carpentaria. Her crew, whilst ostensibly squaring off on deck, were busily exchanging gossip with the men who had crowded over to the nearest submarine and were recognising old friends. On the boat-deck of the depot-ship were gathered a knot of officers, looking at the new addition to the flotilla for lack of anything better to do.
Then, with a handful of personal letters, he went forward through the submarine, up the fore-hatch, open for the first time for three weeks, on to the forecasing, where a gangplank was at that moment ready for him to cross to the next vessel. The men on the upper deck stood still, as the little white-clad figure of the man who had led them so far, and would lead them to the end in store for them, walked nimbly across the springy plank; then they lit cigarettes and abandoned all further pretence of work.
At the depot-ship's gangway stood a reception committee, all very pukka, and the thin wail of a bosun's "Call" indicated that the Commanding Officer of the Gauntlet was being piped over the side, as was his right when making a ceremonial call. He stood at the top of the gangway for a moment with his arm at the salute and then took the preferred hand of the Commander, an ageing repaint with a pleasant smile.
"Woodstock? Used to know your father very well, you're not at all like him. Pity he went in that E boat." That was the Submarine Branch all over, you didn't join a new flotilla in the sense that you joined a new ship. Everybody knew everybody in that outfit, and this old type had been a contemporary of his father, who had been lost in that other war.
"Wotcher,
"Fine," said
"The Gordian," said Shiner, "we heard yesterday. Stinking luck."
There was a silence.
"Poor old
"We'd better go up to see Captain ," he said; "he doesn't like being kept waiting." As they made their way up to the Captain's cabin under the bridge no words passed; it was clear that the Commander and the Captain were not on the closest possible terms of friendship.
At the door the Commander stood back and waved him on.
Captain was sitting at his roll-top desk with his back to the door. If he heard the knock he gave no sign, nor did he turn as
" Gauntlet secured alongside, sir," said
Presently he spoke in a hard crisp voice. " Any defects ? " he asked.
"Nothing of importance, sir," said
"Crew healthy?"
"All very fit, sir."
" Good." A silence Then: " We've lost the Gordian:''
"So I hear."
"You will have to take her place; I can give you two days in harbour."
"That's plenty, sir."
"Five weeks patrol, including going there and coming back. Can do?"
"Can do."
"All right. Come to the staff office at nine o'clock tomorrow morning."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"You knew
"He was my best friend, sir."
" Good chap. Perhaps you'd write to his people. Got his address?"
"Oh yes. I married his sister."
"Did you? Not much of a reception to greet you with, that. Still. There it is. Tomorrow morning then."
Once more
"You did well in the Mediterranean," said Captain , "it isn't quite so easy out here."
That was all.
"You look exactly like a chap who has been talking to Captain ," he said quietly.
"Always," said Shiner. "If the entire Japanese fleet surrendered to him personally he'd still take a pessimistic view of the situation. He spends the whole of his time touching wood and crossing his fingers as he does so. Actually he's a good chap to serve under. No fancy nonsense; and if you get in a hole he'll go bail for you every time. But I do wish that sometimes he'd smile. Still, you can't have everything. Still got the same First-Lieutenant?"
"Yes," said
"Lucky devil," said Shiner, "I've a new bloke, very intellectual. Do you know what a Brains Trust is?"
"Something to do with the radio, isn't it?"
"Blessed if I know. But he's always talking about it and he reads those A.B.C.A. pamphlets---nothing but red propaganda. Still, he's fairly reliable, but I do miss my poker parties. Heigho. Bad show about
"No," said
"
"I suppose so. Why aren't you on patrol?"
"Waiting for a new part. It's being flown out from England. The first lot fell in the pond. The second one didn't fit and the third has been diverted to Bombay. In the meantime I wait patiently in harbour. Did you bring any gin with you?"
"I could only get a case. It's awfully short in
"Did you say only a case?" said Shiner. "We've been on one bottle of beer per head per diem for the last month. A case! Boy, oh boy. What about a little party, eh?"
"Come down to the boat at six o'clock," said
"
"Three weeks at sea and two days in harbour. It's a bit thick, sir."
"I suppose it is," said
"That's all right," said
"I didn't know," said
"So you see," said
"I'll have a word with the cox'n on those lines," said
"Yes, do," said
"By the way," he said. "I've a confession to make. I let it be known that we have a case of gin. I feel that we may have a few visitors at six o'clock precisely."
"Put on your drinking boots," said
"I've a request from the
"What's Toogood's trouble?" asked
"What makes you think that?"
"I don't know; just a feeling."
"Well," said
He went down in search of, and found, his cabin, where an officer's steward was making up his bunk and unpacking his traps.
"What's the trouble, Toogood?"
"I've got the wind up, sir."
"Is that all; who hasn't?"
"I've got a feeling, sir, that we're for it next time. I don't think I can go, sir."
"What are you trying to do, Toogood," he asked, "put the wind up me as well?"
" I got a premonition, sir," said Toogood.
"I always have one before going to sea. How are you sleeping?"
"Pretty fair, sir, only I keep dreaming of water comin' in through a hole in the hull and I'm trying to hold it out. It squirts past and floods the switchboard and all the lights go out and I wake up yelling blue murder."
"Jolly little dream," said
"All right," said Toogood.
"Nothing else on your mind?"
"No, sir."
"Well," said
"'Ave they, sir?"
"Sure," said
A light came into Toogood's eyes.
"You do, sir?"
"Why not? It's natural enough to be afraid of dying. Did you volunteer for this lot?"
"Yes, sir."
"Why?"
"I don't really know."
" You don't really know very much, but I will say you're a good telegraphist. What do you want me to do; send you to a ' trick cyclist' who will put you on a couch and get you to talk about yourself and then diagnose nerve strain? I will if you really want me to. Hold out your hands; let's see if your fingers have got the wind up."
Toogood stretched out his arms and fingers. They showed no tendency to shake.
"Better than mine," said
"Face it, sir. I feel better for talking to you. I thought I was the only chap like---like this."
"I'll lay you half a dollar you don't dream that one again," said
"I didn't know, sir."
"Makes me cautious."
"I hadn't noticed that, sir." Toogood grinned.
"No?"
"Can I go now, sir?"
"Just a minute. Have you a religion?"
"Not much, sir. I don't 'old with it."
"I thought not. Pity. Yes, carry on."
Toogood went out and
Shiner was already on board. He had taken up a strategic position on the wardroom settee next to the bottle and had his nose half-way inside a beaker of gin.
"I couldn't wait,
" Manners!" said
"Can I come in?" said Commander rubbing his hands with anticipatory delight.
"Hullo,
"What a lot of friends we have this evening," said
"In the control-room; addressing an overflow meeting of the plumbers' union," said
" So I imagined," said
Some time later the wardroom flunkey and the First-Lieutenant stood surveying the smoking ashtrays and empty glasses.
"Nothin' but a swarm of bloody locusts," said the First-Lieutenant.
" I kept back a bottle, sir," said
"Good lad," said
Preparing a submarine for a long war patrol is a considerable business, especially when there are only forty-eight hours in which to do it.
While
Likewise one of the periscopes in the control-room was in need of desiccation; this entailed the attachment of a special air-drying plant in a compartment where the floor was missing.
Likewise some extra ammunition was needed, and as for provisions, Guts Hinton had them stacked on deck in the hot sizzling rain, crates and crates of tinned food and no chance of stowing it until the battery floors were replaced. Morgan Jones, deprived of the use of the wardroom table, now tied up out of the way of the battery workers, was fretting and fuming at being unable to get his charts in order for the trip. Thus, for the first part of that day the only people able to get on with the maintenance work in the submarine were the wireless operators and the gunlayers who, perspiring in oilskins, were stripping and cleaning their weapons on deck in the pouring rain. The prospect of six weeks tropical routine in a submarine was not an encouraging one, without this mad scamper to get ready and so, though everybody was working hard, tempers were a little frayed. Guts Hinton, in particular, was giving vent to some pretty caustic stuff.
"Good job we arrived when we did," he was saying, for all to hear, "otherwise this war would 'ave stopped dead. Three boats in harbour and they have to pick on us. What's that in that sack---you there,
"What do you think," he asked---"it's just a sack of coal in case of anybody gettin' cold feet."
"That's quite enough from you," said the coxswain, delighted with a bit of cockney repartee, "what are you feeding 'em on this time, brick-bats?"
"I'm not relying on you for any comforts," said
"If I was the skipper," said Guts, "I'd have something to say about bein' sent out as soon as look at us. Lazy lot of baskets---loafin' in 'arbour. They ought to 'ave been in the Med in our flotilla---they'd have learnt somethin' about war. Ought to be ashamed of 'emselves---now don't be all night toppin' up that blasted battery, 'Arry!"
Petty Officer appeared at the bottom of the torpedo hatch. He was wearing bathing trunks and was streaming with sweat. “ Wot’s up, ‘swain?” he asked.
"Nothin's up," said the coxswain, "I said, 'don't be all night.' I want to get my stores in."
"The longer you stand there wastin' my time," said '
"I've somethin' better to do than piddle into a lot of blasted cells," said the coxswain.
"Gauntlet! Gauntlet!" A supply Petty Officer was hailing the submarine from the Carpentaria---"send along to the victualling store for fresh provisions."
"I can't send now, 'aven't got any 'ands and if I 'ad any 'ands I couldn't get the stuff on board. Can't you see? Or are you ruddy-well barmy? After dinner!" bawled the coxswain.
" Gauntlet ahoy!"
"Now what is it?"
It was
"Aye, aye, sir." The coxswain saluted. "And take that grin off of your face, young
"Wot do you mean," said
"I don't know why I joined this perishin' outfit," said the coxswain, apropos of nothing.
"You shouldn't 'ave if you can't take a joke," said
"How are you getting on?" asked
" Gettin' on splendid, sir," said the coxswain, " I don't think. What's all the perishin' 'urry about; anyone would think we'd got plague on board us."
"That's enough beefing from you," said
" I never said a thing," said the coxswain piously. " Cor! what a flotilla. Can't talk politely to a feller without 'im runnin' to 'is mother. They ought to 'ave been in the Med."
So it went on. While they worked and sweated and swore they could just see the end in view and they knew from long experience that the submarine would be ready in time.
Up in the staff office
Lieutenant Commander, Twiggs R.N.V.R., was a perfect example of that type of intellectual which seems to gravitate naturally to intelligence work. He gave the impression of being closely in the confidence of
"There is little doubt that by the spring of nineteen forty-four we shall be in a position to mount an offensive on the largest scale," Twiggs was saying. "Between ourselves," he winked through his pebble-thick glasses, "between ourselves something considerable is in the wind. I can't say more, you understand?"
"But what has all this to do with Gauntlet's operation?" asked
"I'm coming to that," said Twiggs.
"Well, make it snappy," said
" I thought," he said, " you'd like to be given the broadest possible view of the world situation. So many commanding officers complain that they have not been put in the picture."
"Oh, that's all right, old boy," said
It turned out to be a simple enough task---an offensive patrol in the vicinity of Port Blair, the principle port of the Andaman Islands; but even this straightforward duty had to be covered up by such expressions as "probing attacks," "offensive spirit," "keeping the enemy on toes," his etc. Boiled down, it required Gauntlet to observe and report all hostile movements and to attack suitable targets whenever they presented themselves, but Twiggs wasn't letting it go at that.
"The enemy's endurance," he said impressively, emphasising his words with rhythmic strokes of an H.B. pencil, "is known to be taxed to the limit; it may well be that some successes by Gauntlet will cause the first crack which will bring the whole fabric of Japanese might crumbling to the ground. I cannot say more." But he could have, and would have, if Captain had not arrived at that moment.
He walked in silently, grunted a good morning and stood staring at the chart. Presently he spoke.
"Any questions?" he asked.
" What is the torpedo situation out here ? " asked
Captain nodded. “ When in doubt attack,” he said, “The Japs have had it too much their own way; supplies are coming through far more plentifully than they did; and don’t forget you’ve got a gun.”
"What about aircraft?" asked
"Considerable strength," said the Captain, "though not of the first quality; after the Mediterranean you may find them ineffectual. Has Twiggs given you the broad strategy of the picture?"
" Very much so," said
Captain shot a rapid glance at him. “We like our captains to be given the fullest possible information,” he said. “I’ll send your orders over later today.” He went to the door. “Good hunting,” he said and went out.
"Where was I?" said Twiggs.
"Never mind," said
He left his mentor blinking sadly through his glasses, and went straight to his cabin.
"Dear
"Isn't it bloody about poor
" No time for more. They thought the world of
' 'You'd laugh at our staff-officer, straight out of a book.
"Oh,
"Your own
He felt better after that.
A parallel can be drawn between the lot of the common angler and that of the simple submariner. In the former case an early riser may observe him setting out heavily laden with his paraphernalia, usually on a wet and windy day. He probably walks to the corner, boards a tram and disappears from anybody's ken. He returns unheralded, more often with the traditional "wet arse and no fish" than not, but occasionally he has something to show for his labours and once in a blue moon he may be awarded a prize for the biggest fish of the week.
So it is with the submariner. For every prize awarded for a "big fish" there are weeks of wet, dangerous and unrewarding work, during which the morale of the submarine's crew must be kept well boosted, otherwise, when the opportunity at long last presents itself, they will be too slow to grasp it, and the big fish will get away.
Perhaps, therefore, it was a good thing that the Gauntlet's crew had no time to listen to the discouraging stories brought back from patrol by the other submarines. Hunting was not good in the Indian Ocean at that time. Targets were few and small, distances were great and at the time of the S.W. monsoon the weather was perpetually wet and windy. The conditions in a submarine in this constant atmosphere of hot humidity were enervating and distinctly depressing. It was almost as much as the average man could do to keep himself healthy, and, then, when he returned to his depot-ship and found little but much-delayed letters from home, full of the usual wartime grouses, it became a major problem to get him to snap out of his lethargy.
Certainly there was no time for lethargy in Gauntlet, for things were going wrong all over the place. To begin at the fore-end of the vessel,
On the little chart table, between the hydroplane wheels in the control-room, Morgan Jones was flogging out the sailing orders which had just come in, while at his elbow Bert Toogood was scribbling industriously, things like wavelengths, recognition signals, and the like. Under the Navigator's legs an Able Seaman was trying to take the density of the battery through a small hand aperture; and a little to the left two members of the engine-room department were grinding in a leaky air valve. In the middle of everything the desiccator was breathing heavily through the after periscope. And all the time raindrops poured down the open conning-tower hatch with a depressing constancy.
In the Petty Officer's Mess Guts Hinton was leisurely filling in his various forms, which accounted for the expenditure of rum and comforts. He worked rather like a schoolboy doing home-work, with his tongue curling out of his mouth and his pen inscribing some utterly fictional figures in the best standard-seven copperplate.
On deck the oilskinned figures of the gunlayers were to be observed wiping off and re-greasing their breechwork for the umpteenth time. Things were progressing, reflected
So
It wasn't quite right; at the tight spot the needle flickered up to twice the normal load for only a second.
At one minute to four the Captain stepped aboard and the gangplank splashed into the water behind him.
He gave two orders.
" Let go!" and " Half speed astern together." Slowly the Gauntlet gathered stern-way and slipped away from the Carpentaria. Nobody watched her go---there was nothing to watch and the rain was falling ceaselessly. A small wet submarine lay stopped astern of the depot-ship awhile, and then suddenly a burst of smoke and a flurry of propeller-wash showed at her tail. She began to move ahead, slowly at first and then, as she gathered way, she listed under the turning influence of her rudder and went rapidly out of harbour into the mist and rain.
The Staff Officer took a piece of chalk and wrote on his board. "Sailed sixteen hundred. 12/8/43"; then he dismissed Gauntlet from his mind, and began to write an appreciation of the situation in the Far East, a much more interesting study than this humdrum task of sending submarines out on patrol.
As soon as the outer gate-vessel had been passed the Gauntlet fell in astern of her escort destroyer, whose task was to guard her against the well-intentioned vigilance of her friends. The rule was that all submarines are to be considered hostile unless they prove themselves otherwise; consequently a friendly escort was the only protection against patrolling ships and aircraft who were notoriously trigger-happy.
At the end of four hours' steady steaming the escort hoisted a signal. "Proceed in execution of previous orders," waited a pause, hauled the signal down, and set off in the reverse direction at a hand-gallop. Gauntlet went on her ten-knot way, a lone submarine. From now on she must depend upon herself entirely. Seven hundred miles ahead was her objective; now all vessels encountered must be avoided and the Captain would not know a restful moment until he was once more under the care of his escort; and much was going to happen before that.
Although it was now dark
Since she had last dived the Gauntlet had embarked some tons of provisions, explosives and drinking water. She had completed with oil-fuel, and "topped up" her batteries, and all this meant that the weight of the vessel was different from that with which she dived before arrival at her base.
It was
It was just as well that he did so, for, as soon as Gauntlet began to run under, it was clear that she was very heavy. Down went her bows; the bubbles in the spirit-levels shot aft, the pointers of the diving gauges mived round in no uncertain manner, and before
Tommy waited for a moment to see if the 'planes would hold her up and then, seeing tnat she was out of control, gave the order to blow three of the main ballast tanks.
Immediately the valves were opened, and air screamed into the main ballast tanks. The needles of the diving gauges faltered in their rotary motion and then halted.
"Stop blowing," ordered
"I can't understand it," said
"Did you take a density of the water?" asked
"Well, take one now," said his Captain. "Pump on 'A',' Z' and ' Number six auxiliary'."
While he supervised this routine business of getting the submarine into correct trim, bringing her back to sixty feet and adjusting matters so that she would hold her depth with only one propeller going slow ahead,
"Next to him Badger, the second coxswain, lounging gracefully on his little seat---looking more like a tired and dirty Russian dancer than an Acting-Petty Officer--- every motion a rhythmic one. Between those two stalwarts the navigator crouches over his chart staring at it as if he expects it to reveal some hidden secret and sitting in front of the gyrocompass-repeater the helmsman, Williams, with a perpetual sniff, turns his steering wheel with an economy of movement that only long experience will allow."
They were all part of a living frieze which moved and acted as ordered by
They looked a pretty crowd of pirates already--- what would they look like in six weeks time?
Number One, who had paid a visit to the privy for the purpose of drawing off sea water from the flood valve, returned with a hydrometer pot in which was floating the gadget for measuring the density of the sea.
"It's damn nearly fresh," he said, giving the reading.
"Not surprising," said his Captain, "considering it's been raining for six weeks. You'll have to watch it from now on, we're not in the Mediterranean now."
Bill accepted the rebuke, which was well merited, and presently was allowed to take over the adjustment of the trim and Tommy, as was his usual custom, went wandering round the submarine for the purpose of showing himself to the men whose diving stations kept them in complete ignorance of what was going on. These were the men on whom a great deal would depend in emergency. They were not sitting under the eyes of these officers. Orders would reach them through the "intercom," but no explanation with them. The wrong valve opened at the crucial moment could spoil a torpedo attack, or betray the existence of Gauntlet by bubbles, or make an oil-slick. It was a good thing to let them see the Captain pottering round his ship; it stopped them from feeling neglected. Getting a crew to pull as one required a little more than firm direction, it also required humanity.
Aft in the engine-room, that ghostly compartment which seemed to reek of regrets for the cessation of the hideous roar of Diesels, the engine-room staff were gazing gloomily at a few pressure gauges, whilst
"Warm enough?" asked
They grinned and one of them spoke.
"Puts me in mind of that time off Pantellaria when we got the U-boat," he said, "though I reckon it was hotter nor this."
The other one added his contribution, for which
"Too right," said
They grinned and nodded to each other, a silent confirmation that the skipper was just the same as usual. A word and a joke for everyone. It wasn't so bad, they felt, to have to do this sort of thing with that sort of man.
Beyond the motor-room was a cramped compartment from which came the sounds of a ballast pump mixed with the whine of the turning propeller shafts. Two stokers squatted thoughtfully there, surrounded entirely by pipes and valves, their feet in a pool of oil and water.
"What's this?" demanded
"Stern gland," said one, "I've nipped it up now."
"
The men grinned sheepishly. "We was just going to mop it up, sir," one said and then turned to his mate. "Go and ask the Chief E.R.A. for a bit o' waste and get a bucket from behind the port engine."
Back in the engine-room he spoke to
Just abaft the control-room proper, was housed the wireless office and the Asdic cabinet, hot, airless little compartments where the "ears" of the submarine were controlled.
"Shove up," he said, and seating himself alongside the Petty Officer Telegraphist, he catechised him on such matters as wavelengths, frequencies and routine listening periods, all of which information was contained in the sailing orders. Toogood seemed to have it all at his finger-tips and
Next was the Asdic cabinet where its sole occupant was operating a large wheel which controlled the direction of the "Asdic" beam---a supersonic ray which would send back an echo if it struck any object in the water.
"Nothing at all, sir," said the operator as he turned his wheel another ten degrees. "I've swept right round There's nothing there."
"Any false echoes?" asked
"Nothin' at all," said the operator. "Nothin' at all."
Forward now to the torpedo room with its six spare "fish" in their racks, shining with grease like great sardines. The tubes' crew were squatting silently in a quiet compartment in which the whine of the fore-hydroplane and an occasional sound of the water flowing over the hull were the only noises.
At the wardroom "galley" the "flunkey" quickly switched off the oven in which was reposing a cottage pie.
By now the Gauntlet was in perfect trim, diving at her set depth, idling along at less than one knot.
This was the signal for emergency change of depth---to be obeyed instantly and with maximum effort. No sooner had the sound of the diving-hooter ceased than the effect of this emergency order made itself felt. The Gauntlet's bows dipped sharply under the influence of Guts and Badger, the main motor indicator lights glowed at "full-speed" and the whole ship trembled under the mighty thrust of her propellers.
The depth gauge needles were moving now almost as fast as the stopwatch hand. Guts' voice intoned the depth changes at every ten feet.
"Ninety," he said, "'undred, 'undred and ten,"--- "Level off!" ordered
"Getting on for supper-time," observed Number One, apropos of nothing.
The Asdic operator, having once more repeated "nothin' at all," the submarine was brought to periscope depth. Then with the order of "Surface!"
"What a climate," he said as he regained the bridge, and found
"I don't think it'll be ready yet, sir," said
"Yet I shall go down," said
He went to the wardroom and ate hugely, after which he stretched himself on his bunk and slept through the night, confident in the ability of his three deck-officers to do all that was necessary... Once on patrol there would be little enough rest for the Captain.
In the Petty Officers' Mess Guts Hinton, with his mouth full, was giving the Torpedo Gunner's Mate a direct order.
" I don't care how you feel or what you feel or if you've lost your feeling. \* Jimmy-the-One says you 're to 'ave a lie in. That's what 'e says and that's what you're goin' to do. Soft-'earted, that's what 'e is."
(\* Lower-deck-ese for First Lieutenants.)
"You'll bleeding well do as you're told," said Guts, forking another spud out of the dish. "And don't be so finicking proud---not another word! No blasted discipline in this wessel. What do you want?" This to
"My tot," said the Chief E.R.A.
The coxswain reached across for the bottle and poured out a generous portion. "'Ere you are, Chiefy, I didn't trust your messmates so I kept it back."
"That's a likely story," said Izzy, draining his glass at a gulp. "A likely story indeed." He smacked his lips. "Not bad," he said, "no water in it this time--- what's up, fit o' conscience?"
Guts grinned. "To think that we're fighting
'"Alf past eight, sir," he said. "'Rounds,' sir, please."
They went off together, slaves to the twin gods of routine and discipline, aware that only by complete subservience to them could they hope to endure to the end.
Half an hour before dawn
Whilst he turned the pages of an illustrated paper he listened to the goings-on in the control-room and satisfied himself that it was all being done correctly. Then he sat back in his little armchair and, closing his eyes, dropped into another sleep like the good squirrel he was.
An hour later he opened his eyes and stretched himself. Then he went into the control-room and after the usual precautions brought the submarine to thirty feet and looked at the new day through the high-powered periscope.
It was just the same as the previous day, low clouds, continuous rain and breaking seas; and so it would probably be until they returned to harbour. He remembered with regret the blue skies and calm seas of the Mediterranean, which somehow took some of the squalor out of this underwater business. He felt depressed by this continuous downpour and had an urgent desire to go back to his armchair. "Damnit, I'm getting lazy," he told himself, "this won't do." To his First Lieutenant he said: "We'll work up an appetite for breakfast with a spot of gun action."
"Now, sir?" asked
"Yes, please."
"Right! Stand by for gun action!"
The order went throughout the vessel and a "general post" took place. Men came from the uttermost parts of the submarine and climbed into the conning-tower whilst the three-inch gun's crew did the same thing with the gun access tower, immediately over the wardroom. They were stripped to the waist and carried an assortment of ammunition, machine-guns, gun telescopes and everything necessary for fighting the ship's armament, which consisted of the three-inch gun, the Oerlikon automatic anti-aircraft gun, and two machine-guns. This was an exercise that they all enjoyed, for every man alive is happy when he is able to pull a trigger and make a big bang.
When they were ready
Down went the submarine's bows and she began to vibrate under the thrust of her propellers. At forty feet on the gauge
"Forty!" called Guts.
"Bearing Green four-oh, a target," ordered
"One thousand yards."
"Thirty!"
"Twenty!"
"Out pins! Off one clip."
"Ten."
" It's a different make of ammunition-link, sir---seems a bit tight." He wrestled with the thing and eventually forced it. Then, inserting another round, he pulled the trigger. A satisfactory burst of five shots followed.
He dismissed the guns' crews and went down to breakfast.
With seven days of the patrol gone by and with absolutely nothing to report,
During the day
During the night
Guts Hinton, whose methods consisted of the drastic use of purges, was affronted by
"In bed," and passed on.
At this stage
This, then, was the state of affairs aboard the Gauntlet on the morning of the eighth day on patrol. Once more she was close in shore, once more her high-powered periscope was moving lazily through the iron-grey water, turning like the neck of some prehistoric monster, searching for a quarry.
"Will you come and have a look, sir?" he said. His voice was as matter-of-fact as he could manage to make it, but it was clear that he thought that their luck was changing.
"What is it?" he asked as he adjusted the focus to his own eyes.
"A smallish steamer," said
"Ah," said
"Full speed both," said
Guts nodded at Badger and as one man they took the submarine to the ordered depth.
" Get all six ready," he said. " Targets are few and far between." It was extravagant to use six torpedoes, but clearly the right policy. He remembered the days of the siege of Malta when it was a matter of nice calculation to decide when to expend one's irreplaceable stock of torpedoes. The war had moved on a bit since then; torpedoes were plentiful, but targets were scarce--- "in short supply," as it was said. He grinned with anticipatory delight and all the ennui of the past weeks slipped away. Here was a quarry at last. The stalk was on.
The submarine attack has indeed much in common with deer-stalking, in that the hunter must work himself into a position from which once, and only once, will he be able to fire his shots. Long periods of stealthy approach, running in blind at a great depth, correspond almost exactly to that painful hands-and-knees approach in the wet heather.
Now the Gauntlet was going full speed, her electric lights a little dimmer, as the great motors sucked the current with a greed that lowered the voltage of the entire electrical system.
"What is it?" he asked in a husky whisper.,
"A ship at last," said
"A bit better," lied the Gannet and struggled to a sitting position.
"No you don't, my lad," said
" I'm quite all right, really," said the Gannet.
" Sure," said
The minutes passed and the tension grew.
Presently a whispered report from forward announced that the torpedo-tubes were ready for firing, barring the final order of " Stand by," when the safety-pins would be removed.
"Stop both motors," he ordered. "Group down." "Slow-ahead, port." Up came the lights as the motors stopped, a faint clang as the giant battery "grouper" switch connected the batteries in a manner which was more economical for slow speeds, and then the port motor indicating light glowed again.
"Thirty-five feet," said
Slowly the Gauntlet was brought to periscope depth.
"Sixty!" said Guts.
"Fifty!"
"Forty!"
"Level off," ordered
"Thirty-six feet," said
"Where the blazes?"---he said to himself. Then he grunted as he found the target.
"
Down went the Gauntlet to her depth for running in at full speed.
"Bigger than I thought," he said thoughtfully, "and farther off. Going to be a job to get in."
Another period of suspense---ten minutes of waiting---and thinking, tinged now by the spectre of disappointed hopes.
It was getting very hot now, for the use of full speed was generating great heat in the batteries and electric motors. Everybody was wet and running with sweat. Shirts, where worn, were saturated, eyeballs pricked saltily, the air was thick and curiously musty.
At last
" She's a long shot, but it's worth having a crack."
A wave of relief went through the control-room. Anything was better than abandoning the attack. As the Gauntlet once more hurtled to eighty feet, and speed towards her quarry, spirits became higher.
"Seven seconds interval," he ordered. "Out pins!"
There was a pause and then a ghostly voice form forward reported: "All tubes ready."
"Bring her up," he ordered. "Stop both, group down, slow ahead port."
Curious how there can be forms of silence. The silence of anticipation of good things to come is completely different from that when the next happening may be a lethal dose of depth-charges. Now, in that control-room, hopes were high. Experience had shown that
"Sixty feet," Guts intoned the depths like an archbishop and gave little warning instructions to the second coxswain by whispers and nodding head.
"Fifty feet!"
"Low power periscope, this time," said
The small close-range periscope rose with a hiss, and, as it came up out of the well
"Forty feet," said Guts, adding in a fierce undertone, "go on, Badger---put some dive on!"
The dull green had gone to a light eau-de-nil, to a clear white, to bubbles and foam, and then, suddenly, to a waste of heaving water, grey and uninviting, with small waves which effectively screened the periscope from its target.
"I want to see the target," said
"Comin' up, sir," said Guts reassuringly.
The horizon was getting farther away, behind a breaking wave
"Stand by," he ordered for his sights were nearly on.
Quickly he slewed the periscope right round to see that nothing was likely to come near the Gauntlet, and then once more adjusted the instrument to the correct angle of sight. He was just in time. The target's bows were just going to touch the cross-wires. "Fire!" he ordered, and, as was the custom aboard his ship, everybody repeated the order. A stentorian chorus made certain that those in the torpedo-room would hear the order. An immediate feeling of pressure on the eardrums told these experienced men that the first torpedo had left the tube. This was followed at seven-second intervals by the remainder until the ghostly voice said: "All torpedoes left the tube."
Normally,
Would he see a burst of smoke and hear a thunderous noise as evidence of his success? He'd never yet seen the results of his handiwork. People who stayed to watch in the Mediterranean did not always live long enough to regret doing so, but here, as we have said before, was different.
"Seven thousand yards at forty knots," said
"Just over five minutes," said
"That's a very long time," observed the Captain. In five minutes so much could happen. He watched the target carefully, though now he had fired he had no further control over events. If the enemy altered course, only a little before the five minutes was up, the torpedoes would most probably speed harmlessly by. The silence this time was pregnant with fears of failure.
"Two minutes," said
"Three minutes!"
"Enemy has altered sixty degrees to port," he said formally. "I'm afraid that's done it."
" Four minutes!"
"Five minutes1"
Not a sound.
" Six minutes!"
Still a hope for the last one to be fired.
" Seven minutes!"
A pall of disappointment settled suddenly on the Gauntlet's crew. Shoulders slumped, men stirred, flexing their limbs, which they had not thought to move since the attack had begun. It was like the movements of a disappointed football crowd after the final whistle. "Nothin' doing."
Into this pool of disappointment
"Gun action stations," he said.
Even as he gave the order, which started the whole grim business,
If that was the case was it wise to go on with this enterprise? He had only to cancel his last order, to declare that the target had once more altered course and today's particular troubles would be all over.
"There is a tide in the affairs of men"---it was difficult not to think that he'd missed this one. He stared at the approaching vessel through the high-powered periscope and tried hard to see whether this unescorted elderly packet was not in fact an armed Q-boat. Was it wise to risk all by coming to the surface and engaging her on equal terms ?---equal, that is, if she had a gun. Had she a gun? He looked a long time at her. There might be something on her poop which could be a gun. A sort of canvas contraption which might be concealing something. One hit from that weapon, and Gauntlet would be in a mess. Suddenly he was aware that the men in the control-room were looking at him. Had he spoken out loud?---if so, what had he said? And what was he thinking of, counting up the risks of a surface engagement? Why, he'd earned a couple of gongs for just this sort of thing. A submarine, properly handled, had all the advantages of surprise. Six quick shots, and down again. The enemy wouldn't have uncovered their gun (if it was a gun) in that time. " Down periscope," he ordered.
"Sir?" It was
"The Sub wants to take part. Should I let him?"
"Well, Sub," he said, "d'you think you're fit enough?"
" I feel quite all right, sir, it'll take my mind off my bellyache."
"What do you think,
The Navigator shrugged his shoulders. "Of course he ought not to, sir," he said, " but rightly speaking he ought to be in hospital, but isn't."
" I'll turn in again as soon as we've sunk him," implored the Gannet.
" Oh, thank you, sir." Here was gratitude indeed.
"O.K. I shall take him on at medium range," said
"What about the Oerlikon, sir, do you want to open fire with it?" asked the First-Lieutenant.
"No," said
He turned to the periscope and nodded at the operator, who brought it smartly out of the well. "Let's have another look," he said.
The enemy was closer now. An old black high-funnelled job, burning dirty coal, and flying a tattered ensign; she was steaming at about ten knots, pushing a considerable bow-wave ahead of her and rolling heavily in the south-westerly swell.
" Down periscope."
He began to give his preliminary orders in true gunnery style.
"Bearing Green four-oh, a enemy vessel---two masts, one funnel. Range oh-three-five, rate four hundred closing, deflection ten left. Open fire on surfacing."
A comforting ritual this. It took one out of the immediate circumstances and brought to the men, huddled waiting in the access-towers, a sense of gunnery-school discipline---it reminded them that somewhere in the world all day and every day someone was giving similar orders, probably a Gunners' mate in gaiters, trying to knock some sense into an Ordinary Seaman's training class. It steadied the nerves to feel the rigid hand of discipline and was a reminder that all that was required of each member of the gun's crew was the correct carrying out of the drill in which he had so often been coached.
"Up periscope!"
A little silence as the Captain, on his hands and knees, caught the handles of the periscope as they emerged from the well and allowed himself to be drawn upwards as he watched for the first breaking of the waves over the top window. Now!
The watchers could see that all was not well but the first order came as a surprise.
"Get the engines ready! Down periscope."
"Right!" said
A sigh of relief was almost audible. The time had come. Action at last.
"Of one clip!"
"Standby."
The depth gauge pointers were winding back at ever-increasing speeds.
"Thirty feet!" called Guts.
"Twenty feet!"
"Ten feet!"
Slam---bang! went the hatches and down came a refreshing, but temporary, cascade of water. The men cheered as they went up through it like salmon leaping the rapids. All was noise, bustle and purposeful action.
"Left eight!" came the steady voice of the Gannet. "Fire!"
Bang again!
"Right four!" went on the Sub. "Fire." Bang again.
"Enemy altering course," he yelled and jumped to the voice-pipe. This was an unexpected turn of events. If the enemy came straight for him he must either turn away or dive, or both, and that quickly.
"Hard a-starboard," he ordered. From the other end of the pipe his order was repeated. Quickly the Gauntlet swung to starboard.
"Check! Check!" ordered the Sub. It was clearly impossible to train the gun with sufficient accuracy, as the submarine was swinging under full helm. "Gun won't bear!" he reported.
"Open fire with the Oerlikon," ordered
He went to the voice-pipe again as the Oerlikon began to beat a tattoo. "Midships!" he ordered. "Steady as you go!"
Then things began to go wrong. The Oerlikon ceased firing and at the same moment the first shot from the enemy threw a great plume of water over the bridge. She was indeed armed and coming in to attack.
" Oerlikon jammed, sir!"
"Down below everybody," said
"Helm jammed, sir."
It was indeed! Gauntlet was still swinging towards the rapidly approaching target.
"Hand steering," came the faint echo of the order through the voice-pipe. The last man was just disappearing down the gun-tower hatch. "Hurry up!" said
" We've been hit, sir, on the water-line. Water coming in. I'm sending the gun's crew on deck again."
"Right," said
Which was only too true. Desperately the men clambered up and swung the gun on to its bearing.
"Twelve rounds rapid!" ordered the Sub. The gun banged away. Now the enemy were not more than a mile away. Three shots had screamed overhead. The next one would hit for certain. It arrived with a roar and a shriek and burst in the casing, sending wicked splinters in all directions.
"Helm in hand," came the voice from below. Thank God!
" Hard a-port," ordered
"We've hit him, sir," the signalman reported. "Twice! No, three times!"
The Gannet was making good shooting at last, laying his own gun and ordering corrections to the sight-setter in a steady voice. Now the two vessels were broadside on at a range of a mile, and for the first time since the action had begun, the enemy was taking punishment. The Gannet, having established a hitting range, was ordering the trainer to get on the enemy's single gun which had done so much damage.
Three more shots and a great cloud of soot shot up from the enemy's funnel, she began to list and her speed fell off.
" Finish her off," said
The Navigator touched him on the arm. " Look, sir," he said, "a submarine chaser!"
Once again
"Ask the First-Lieutenant how he's getting on," he said.
A few seconds later
"No question of diving?"
"There's a Jap submarine chaser after us," said
"Do your best!" said
When Petty Officer
He opened his sound-proof door and the whole grim reality of the situation burst upon him. A large amount of water was pouring in through a hole in the Gauntlet's hull, high up under the after end of the conning-tower, as far as one could judge. It was not coming in under any great pressure, but rather with the persistence with which water runs out of a bath. In addition to this, splinters from the explosion had perforated some oil pipe which was squirting vigorously all over the place. Already the water had nearly filled the cavities containing the wireless and asdic offices. Soon it would slop over the sill of the engine-room doorway. No one seemed to be doing very much for the moment.
To the one man who had not in any way been shocked by the build-up of this disaster there seemed only one thing to do---stop the water from coming in, or perish.
"What do you think you're doing?" asked the Leading Telegraphist.
"I'm going to bung the 'ole up," said
Sparko looked doubtfully round and then decided to follow his chief. Together they struggled past the men in the control-room, climbed the ladder, crept unobserved on to the bridge and started to climb over the back end of it, clutching their blankets as if they were precious babies.
"What are you doing?" demanded
"Pluggin' the 'ole," said
Down on the pressure hull
"'Ang on where you are," said
"Urn," said
"Yes, sir," said the First-Lieutenant who had come up at that moment. "The engine-room's got a lot of water in it."
" All right," he said. " Quick as you like."
Down went
"Nearly finished now," said
"All right," said
"The pressure piping got hit. We shall have to steer from aft."
" Submarine chaser's coming this way, sir," reported the signalman, and as he spoke a plume of water rose a few feet to port of the bridge and a burst of yellow flame shot along the surface of the water.
"Open fire," ordered
"Blown me boots off," he said. "I reckon that's a bit thick, that is."
"Skipper says we're going ahead," shouted Sparko, "better get up on the bridge or we'll be washed off. Come on."
Another shot fell astern, and another. Then the submarine chaser turned again and went to the aid of the larger vessel now perilously near sinking.
Meantime
Now that the first reaction to the sudden catastrophe had resolved itself into a grim determination to stay alive, every man turned to the task nearest him. Where he was not under direct orders he looked around to see how he could help. Here were the fruits of long association in the bonds of comradeship far closer than any discipline could have enforced among disciplined men.
Guts Hinton no longer had any duty to perform at surface action stations, and, since diving was out of the question, he set about dealing with the wounded. Here was an opportunity to practise the skill which he had acquired in first-aid courses. He had long planned a suitable layout for hospitalising part of the submarine. Now he set about putting it into action as calmly as if it did not involve getting far away from any means of escape should the submarine founder. In times of danger it requires a very brave man to remove himself from the only hope of survival, should the worst occur. There was far too much of a crowd gathered in or near the forward control-room door; Guts's first job was to send it packing.
"Wot's your job?" he asked one of the torpedo hands (as if he didn't know!)
"I came to see if I could help," said the man.
"Well, you can," said the coxswain, "come on." He walked right forward to where
Guts watched them for a moment and then turned to a couple of stokers, whose duties had brought them forward to help pass ammunition from the magazine to the gun access trunk. Bidding them redouble their efforts to get a healthy supply of ammunition in the form of a dump at the foot of the tower, he stood over them until they moved as fast as Keystone Cops, and when they returned panting and dripping with sweat, he switched them into the torpedo-room to help with the hand-loading gear, for by now the hydraulic system had failed. Backwards and forwards he rampaged, whipping up the flagging spirits of the men trapped below until they had no time to think of their predicament. Then, when the last torpedo disappeared into the last tube, he had them down on their hands and knees, swilling and swabbing until the torpedo-room, now empty, was shining as if for an inspection. Next he had half a dozen frame-cots taken from the messes (mostly, I regret to report, from the Artificers' mess) and fixed with lashings in the racks where, hitherto, had lain the torpedoes. When they were nearly fixed he collected his stokers and with a stretcher, specially designed for handling casualties in a vertical position, he set out in search of patients for his hospital.
He found three likely ones. The gunlayer was slumped down over the ready-use ammunition lockers, bleeding profusely from a gash in the neck. Someone had already bandaged it, with little effect: a large vein was cut and the man was bleeding to death. They did their best to get him below and into a cot, but he was dead before they got him there. Guts, apparently unmoved by this check to his plans, covered the poor thing with a blanket, and set out with a fresh determination. His next attempt to capture a patient was concentrated on the Sub-Lieutenant, who told him to go to hell. He then heard of Toogood's feet, and this time got a customer, applying a picric acid dressing to the burns with great skill. Toogood waited until his feet were done, then he thrust them into an old pair of carpet slippers and went back to look at his plug.
In the control-room the bucket chain was beginning to settle down to its endless task. Men had discovered where to stand, how to economise in physical effort, how to avoid spilling too much of the contents, and how to pass back the empties in a sort of rhythm. The watching First-Lieutenant, counting the flow of buckets, calculated that he was getting water out of the Gauntlet at the rate of twenty gallons a minute. It appeared to be coming in at slightly more than that speed. They would nearly be able to hold their own, until they were exhausted, or unless something dislodged the plug. Two things were necessary, therefore, to improve the situation: one was to get a pump going, and thus relieve at least some of the hard labour of the bucket chain; the other was to fix a more efficient sealing-device on the outside of the submarine. With the first of these aims in view, he clambered past the bailers, and splashed through the little brook which was cascading into the engine-room, over the sill of the doorway which had to be kept open in order to give the engines a supply of air, without which the Diesels could not function.
Conditions in the engine-room were frightfully bad. The bilges were full and water was two feet over the footplates in the gangway. All electric machinery was already submerged and out of action, except by some miracle of good fortune the circulating pumps, which some blessed designer had arranged to be high up in the engine-room. If the circulaters packed up so did the engines; with the engines went their last hope of survival.
One of the operators was looking at an earth-lamp which was glowing brightly as an indication that the main motor insulation was broken down to zero. One of the electric motors was thus already out of commission. The other would no doubt follow suit. He instructed the man to draw all the fuses and went forward again with heavy heart, and some really bad news for the Captain. From now on the Gauntlet was living on capital as far as electricity was concerned. With the electric motors out of action there was no means of recharging the submarine's batteries, so that when they were run down that would be the end. No light, and no current for the circulating pumps.
As he waded back through the engine-room the starboard engine began to scream and judder.
"What's the matter with it?" asked
"Piston seized, number eight cylinder."
"Can't you do anything?"
"I'll try."
"O.K."
"What's it like below, Number One?" he asked.
"Pretty bad," said
"We can expect air attack at any moment," he said. "We'd better concentrate on defending ourselves. If we can hold on until darkness we might be able to get some repairs under way. Get every spare hand on to ensuring a good ammunition supply, and keep the buckets going."
"By the way," said
"Splinter through the pressure-casing," said
"How are they managing aft," asked the Captain, "with no repeater to steer by?"
"I'll go and see," said
Quickly he went down aft, through the line of buckets, over the waterfall, into the engine-room where the water surged into fierce little waves in the uneasy rolling of the submarine. She was losing buoyancy with all this weight of water. He must blow every drop of internal ballast except the drinking water. He stopped and shouted his instructions in the Chief's ear and went on his way. There in the extreme after end two men were trying to steer a course by a small magnetic compass which was far too close to the steel structure, and electrical devices in the compartment, to be anything but utterly unreliable. As he opened his mouth to speak to the two sweat-sodden men who wrestled grimly with their task, an order came faintly through the control-room voice-pipe. " Hard-a-starboard!" And at the same moment the submarine quivered under the recoils of all her gun armament. The air attack had begun.
"Come on, chaps," he said quietly, "let's work the helm as fast as we can. The Skipper will be wanting to dodge those bastards."
The three pairs of hands laid together on the same object saved each man from taking flight.
" Midships!" came another faint order. They sweated on the wheel and orders came thick and fast. A series of nasty crumps now accompanied the joltings of the submarine's own guns; as far as one could judge from down below they were not particularly near misses. Presently there was a lull.
The older member nodded. "
"I'll come back and see how you're getting on," said
Aircraft in sight, bearing red one-seven-oh!"
It had come at last.
"Do not open fire, until I give the order," said
The first one was coming in.
"Hold it," said
The black, ugly, squat-looking bomber was getting bigger every minute. As Gauntlet swung under full helm
No time for cheering. The second bomber was coming in. Down it came, in imitation of the first, but the fate of its predecessor made it more cautious, while
Number three was made of sterner stuff. He made a good run-in, dropped his bombs at the right moment, swerved violently to put off the machine-gun fire and zoomed up overhead just as they exploded. There were two tremendous crumps, smoke and flame was everywhere---there was the thud and a cry of a hit man, and the clang of tortured steel as splinters flew. The attacking plane went unscathed away and
There was no reply for a moment. Then a faint and anxious voice replied. "First-Lieutenant's comin' now, sir."
It was followed by the most welcome and almost hearty voice of
"First-Lieutenant here, sir."
"All right below?"
A pause as
"It was," said
AS he worked his way up the conning-tower, past the l\ bucket party, sweating and swearing, but still joking desperately, Bill Brown remembered a picture he'd once seen of a flying-fish pursued under water by some shoal of voracious marauders and in a frantic effort to escape them, jumping into the beak of a waiting sea-bird. He felt very much like the fish. Down below he was in a wet and half-lit tomb with the menace of the encroaching water urging him to reach the open air at all costs; surely it was better to fight a clean fight in one's own element, rather than wait for a protracted end beneath the surface?
The men on the bridge, however, weren't liking it at all. They had no protection against the bullets, bombs and splinters and the sight of enemy aircraft diving in, all guns ablaze, was frankly terrifying.
The bombs exploded. Sundry splinters whizzed overhead; others hit the submarine's casing with terrifying force. The prostrate men rose slowly and each one looked to see who was not able to do so. By one of those miracles which happen every minute of every day in times of battle, no one was touched.
"Something more permanent," said
Secondly, the guns' crews must be kept up to strength and that infernal Oerlikon persuaded to fire.
Thirdly, the engine must be kept going. He recounted his points on his fingers. "Nothing else matters," he said. " If we can hang on until dark we'll think again. Now get going."
"Aircraft, red one-five-oh!"
The single aircraft came in at a respectable height.
He looked down on to the casing and was surprised to see
"If I don't hold," he said, "it'll work out."
"Well, hold it then," said
"How are your poor old feet?" asked
"O.K. sir."
"Put a line on him," said
In came the enemy, guns blazing. The three-inch gun gave a few perfunctory barks, the machine-guns rattled in satisfactory manner, and the men at the Oerlikon, performing superhuman feats of strength, finished and were able to fire one round at the plane before it swept by, leaving its bombs as ill-aimed mementoes to explode harmlessly some distance away.
There was no doubt, thought
'"Ow are we doing, sir?" he asked.
"If those bloody Nips don't score a lucky one,"
Guts didn't react the way that he should.
"What's the matter?" asked
"It's that
"Hell," said
"Oh, it's of no account to me, I'm sure," said the coxswain. " I just like to------" A large explosion drowned his final words and he went forward the very picture of affronted pride. If he were blotted out that moment he would take his grievance with him to Valhalla and go on with the argument there. As it was he went back to his "hospital" with less enthusiasm. One of the men with a superficial cut on his arm greeted him anxiously.
"'Ow are we doing, 'Swain?" he asked.
" Don't know and don't care," said Guts---" I just like to know where I stand."
"Well, stand out of the way," said
Guts pulled himself together. He had no opinion of any reserve officers, and had always begrudged the respect that he had shown to the Navigator. Now the man had turned out to be a doctor. "Them's all we're allowed."
"It's not going to be enough," said
Guts recoiled for a moment at the incisive order and then his training came to his rescue. "Aye, aye, sir!" he said and lumbered away.
Down aft
"What is it?" he said.
"Just a minute," said Izzy. He moved back through the swirling water and gave some final instructions to a gang he'd collected. Then he waded along and joined
"Reckon those buckets want improving on," he said. " I've got the spare circulating pump to play with. When we've disconnected it and fitted a suction to the bilge it'll pull the water quicker than kiss-your-'and." He looked up at the cascading leak in the hull. "Now, what about this patch?" he asked.
"Just like a bloody plumber," said Guts. "Excuse me, sir, but
"Of course," said
Though how this was to be accomplished he'd so far no idea at all. And at that moment the only man aboard who could save the ship was in imminent peril of drowning. Bert Toogood, not content with holding the plug in with his broomstick, had gone down to tread it in at the same moment as Tommy put his helm hard over as yet another aircraft bore down upon them. The Gauntlet, laden with loose water swilling in her compartments, lurched heavily; a green sea swept along her casing and plucking up
"Man overboard!" It was one of the Oerlikon's crew who saw it happen.
The Gauntlet turned steadily as long as the engine was kept going ahead, but when, as was necessary, it was stopped so that she would not shoot past the man in the water, she almost ceased to swing and glided slowly, gradually losing her way. Now was the crucial time, for if another aircraft came in she would find a sitting target.
But such a course had no appeal to him. If wars had to be won by such methods then life was not worth living.
He looked through his glasses at the small bobbing head, calculated the distance and nodded to
He stuck it in his mouth and sucked it until a few moments later
"Aircraft dead astern!"
Round went the guns. It was a biggish bomber, by the look of it, coming in with a deliberation that was portenteous. Unless avoiding action was taken this was likely to be the end.
"Megaphone!"
Whether they heard or not it didn't matter, for that moment the two swimmers met and were hauled back to the submarine by the three-inch gun's crew.
"Full ahead, starboard! Hard-a-port!"
The engines rumbled into action before the swimmers were inboard; they swung astern on their lifeline and luckily were not on the side of the turning propeller. It took the efforts of several men to haul them in and they were considerably bruised by the battering they got alongside the hull. But there was no time for commiseration, or apology; the bomber was close on them. Away streaked the guns' crews and as the enemy got close it received full salvoes from all the guns. Such a determined defence affected the actions of the enemy pilot immediately. He put his machine into a steep climb and dropped his bombs prematurely. Another life had been granted to the Gauntlet.
"That's all right, sir," he said.
The words didn't mean much but his grin meant everything. His arms and shoulders were livid where he had been pulled along the steel hull, but he too, in company with all the slightly hurt on board, wasn't thinking of his injuries any more than a footballer feels his hacks; after the game was over they might all stiffen up and ache, but not now.
"I'm hungry," said
"
"What the devil do you want?" asked
"Don't mind me, sir," said the little Jew, "just carry on."
"Oh, it's you, Sammons," said
"That's the idea, sir. No, don't move, I can manage. Besides," he added with a leer, "you'll stop anythink comin' my way."
"Always did 'ave an eye for the main chance," said Guts. "Let's 'ave a look at that finger o' yours, sir."
The coxswain sucked his teeth noisily. " Oh, 'e 'as," he said. "Any other orders, sir?"
"Yes," said
"Anything you say," said Guts, adding as a relief to his injured feelings, "you there, Tucket, go easy with that bucket."
He couldn't understand why everybody howled with laughter. It wasn't as funny as all that, but everybody must have his safety-valve. If the Gauntlet survived this ordeal the saga of Tucket and his bucket would pass into the repertoire of vintage submarine stories, generously endowed, no doubt, with more words of a similar sound.
But only ten o'clock!---a long way to go for a respite!
The Gannet, leaning his forehead heavily against - the rubber cushion of the layer's telescopic sight, gritted his teeth as another wave of nausea swept through him. It was all right when he was pulling the trigger, or trying to get his sights on an aircraft, but in the intervals he felt as sick as a dog. What with the natural feeling of fear for the outcome of this encounter, and the wretched condition of his inside, he was like the classic example of the sea-sick passenger whose state of mind varied between being afraid he was going to die and the awful fear that he was not.
Anyway he was better off up in the air, taking part in the battle, than lying on a bunk down below, in ignorance of what was going on. If only his belly would stop aching. He kept thinking of the story of the boy with the fox gnawing into his vitals---must have been a brave chap, braver than anyone here. What a jam they were in. He wondered how his parents would take it if he didn't get back. They had been pretty well knocked out when he told them that he had volunteered for submarines. His father, that very English baronet, who specialised in the understatement of facts, had said with one eyebrow lifted: "Was that really necessary?" and then had joined a bomb-disposal squad. His mother was already working herself to rags in a women's voluntary service. They both felt a great deal about the Baronetcy, and "passing things on;" the Gannet's sublime disregard for such matters was both a source of disappointment and of admiration to his devoted parents, who prided themselves on their broadmindness, and made genuine efforts to laugh at their son's eccentricities. Any young man who lacked pride in his family must be a little out of the ordinary, but that showed his sense of individuality, so that was all right. "Nice people" thought the Gannet, "they'll miss me. And then: "I wish another aircraft would come and get this over."
"Like a sandwich, sir?" The Flunkey was standing beside the gun with a plate of hard biscuit and some slices of bully beef. " Go on, sir," he said, "it'll put some heart into you." The Gannet shook his head.
"Could you go a negg?"---the Flunkey produced a hard-boiled egg with the polished skill of a conjurer. The Gannet shook his head again.
"Got any water?" he murmured. Out came a water bottle. He took a pull and felt stronger. The Flunkey pressed a bar of chocolate into his hand and passed on to
He went to the voice-pipe and called for
"I can't really, sir," said
"How's the ammunition supply?" asked
"Not too bad at present," said
"How is the gun?"
"Better than it was. Only jams every fifth round or so. How's your finger, sir?"
" I'd forgotten about it," said
"Shall I come up?" There was eagerness in
"No. Not till I say. There's one thing you should do though."
"Yes, sir?"
"Get all the coded messages, and sailing orders, and so forth, and have 'em handy for burning. You never know. Might as well be careful."
"I see, sir." There was a little silence as the implications were digested. "What about the confidential books? Shall I sack them up?"
"Might as well."
"Cheese and Biscuits," repeated
"In our favour," lied
Whoomph! A high-level bomb burst a few hundred yards away.
"Cancel my last remark," said
"Aircraft coming in Green four-oh!" The action blazed up anew. This time it was a cannon-firing aircraft, fortunately inexpertly flown. They survived the attack with only one casualty.
Down in the torpedo-room
The torpedo-room was quiet enough for any hospital. It heaved a bit in the usual swell and it rattled as the vibration of the engine picked up a period. Every now and again a wave could be heard, thundering across the casing, every now and again the coxswain would go aft to the control-room to see how things were faring. In the compartment itself the wounded suffered in various degrees of silence. One, whose pain was greater than his injury, was chain-smoking and swearing under his breath. One was in a sort of delirium and calling again and again for
"It was heart-rending.
"Put a sock in it, old man," called the smoker.
"That's 'is wife," said the coxswain. "Just 'ad a nipper, she 'as. You feeling all right, sir?"
" I'm hungry," said the Navigator. " Go along and see if you can get me something to eat." It was a brave thing to say. The coxswain looked disappointed.
"Sure you ought to 'ave anything, sir? You're lookin' a bit peaky to me."
{
"Will you do as you're told, please."
The Gauntlet rattled and banged as the armament opened fire. The coxswain went away and the Navigator held his aching head. He would carry on whatever happened, just to show that pig-faced blighter who thought he hadn't got the nerve.
{
The dope was taking effect. The voice was slurred and much of the poignancy had gone out of it. Soon it dropped to a series of grunts, and for one moment there was complete silence. Then
"Cor," he said, "they're in a proper pot-mess aft in the control-room. Water everywhere and the air's thick with chlorine!"
It was
"He's got his fingers crossed. He's trying to mend the starboard engine but the spare gear is all under water and it's going to be a long job. He'll have the circulating pump working in about half an hour, he says."
"That's something," said
"If only this rain keeps on," he said, "every hour puts us six miles farther away. When it gets dark we'll make a big alteration of course and hope that they lose us during darkness and don't pick us up again in the morning."
"
They listened. A number of planes were passing directly overhead but were hidden in a rain cloud.
"What a let off," said
"Aye, aye," said
On the bridge
by splinters and dying in agony. Death------. That
reminded him that he would have to bury the dead at sea. He'd never done that before. He'd read about it and it had always seemed to be terribly dramatic. "We now commit his body to the deep." Distressing business.
The rain sizzled down, flattening the sea with its sheer weight.
"Wot's up with you, Chiefy," barracked a seaman.
"It's the French blood in me," said Izzy. He dropped out of sight and the weary clank of buckets was resumed.
He half closed his eyes and said a prayer. "These chaps don't deserve to die," he said, "they are absolutely tip-top and full of guts. Just because I made a mistake it's not fair to take it out on them. Just keep this rain going, please God, until dark and I'll manage the rest somehow." Then he said the Lord's Prayer just to add good measure, and that was that. He felt like someone who had just posted a most important letter. Now he must wait and see whether the "usual channels" would yield a favourable answer.
It didn't take long to see that his request had misfired. Within five minutes the rain began to ease off---the visibility was improving rapidly. He looked at his watch. It had been thick for over an hour. Whilst the curtain was down many things could have been happening behind it.
"Tell the First-Lieutenant to close up all supply parties," he said down the voice-pipe, "the visibility is getting better." He turned to the guns' crews. " Stand by, everybody!" he said. The rain cloud was moving rapidly away, impelled by a fresh and cooling breeze. Out to windward there was no sign of enemy activity, but what lay in store for them to leeward? They'd soon know now. He dried off the eyepiece of his binoculars and stood waiting. Serve him bloody well right for having the cheek to ask for God's assistance. Must be half-daft.
He searched the receding horizon, hoping against hope to see nothing. Steadily he trained his glasses a few degrees at a time. Half the horizon to leeward was clear but---what was that? His heart began to thump as he saw what all along he had feared he would see, the long grey outline of an enemy warship, not more than six miles away and steering parallel to Gauntlet's course. He went to the voice-pipe and asked for the First-Lieutenant.
Any minute now the enemy would open fire.
"Sir?" came
"Enemy frigate in sight!" said
This then must be the end. The frigate had only to turn towards the Gauntlet and open fire, and the day would be hers. She would probably be armed with three or four biggish guns. The only thing for Gauntlet to do was to try and torpedo her and, if that failed, to ram her. Desperate measures indeed. " Get all torpedoes ready," ordered
"Six aircraft!" reported the signalman.
They came roaring down out of the clouds, each one dropping a stick of bombs. For the next few minutes the sea round Gauntlet was a mass of white pinnacles of water, much of which actually fell on them, but not a bomb hit them. To the watching frigate it must appear to be certain destruction; perhaps that was why she had not so far opened fire. Almost before the last cascade of foaming water had subsided, came another six bombers. Once again the stuff fell round them, exploding as it reached the water, and once again the Gauntlet emerged unscathed.
Three fighter planes came out of nowhere and raked the bridge with machine-gun fire. Two men were hit and no damage was inflicted upon the enemy. These vicious gun attacks were impossible to avoid. Each one would bring fresh casualties. While the unfortunate wounded were bundled below another high-level attack raised more plumes of water. And then, as a blessed relief, the curtain dropped again, and heavy rain blotted everything out.
"I've done the deed, sir," he said, "here are the biscuits."
"Pack 'em on the after part of the bridge," said
Overhead they could hear the droning of many planes, like a swarm of angry gnats. Once a bomb fell remarkably close, though whether it was dropped by accident or design they would never know.
This time the rain seemed to have come to stay.
"'Arf a minute, 'Swain," came a plaintive voice as Guts Hinton forced himself up to the open hatchway. "Permission to serve out rum, sir?" he asked.
"It'll put 'eart into 'em, sir," said Guts.
"Um," said
"It's for you to say, sir," said Guts.
"I know it is," said
The coxswain gave his Captain a reproachful look for not trusting him, and his full-moon face vanished below.
The rain continued to pour down.
Down in the torpedo-room
Then time began to take a hand. The seconds which had lumbered painfully past once more ticked merrily into minutes and hours. After the stress and strain of the first part of the day a sort of sizzling somnolence prevailed over the upper part of the submarine. The men at the guns drooped with a strange weariness, born of emotions not often experienced; for they had faced the inevitable bravely and were still, unaccountably, alive.
Every now and again, however, the curtain of rain would partly rise and glimpses of a horizon some two or three miles distant were vouchsafed. Then
And the minutes went by. Down in the after part of the control-room
Presently the flunkey came up with a mug of tea. To his surprise
He went to the voice-pipe and warned everybody. Then he waited the completion of the transformation scene.
Now visibility to windward was maximum, and, still there was nothing in sight. So far so good, but what about the lee side? And where were the enemy aircraft?
For the first time since the beginning of it all
"Get up on the periscope standard," he said to the signalman, "and see if you can see anything." The man clambered up, and with practised eye swept the whole horizon.
"What can you see?"
"Nothin' as yet," said the signalman, and then qualified the statement. "Arf a mo, sir."
He levelled his glass for some time and then summed up the situation.
"Small patch o' smoke and a top mast," he said. "I reckon it's every bit of eight miles away."
"Which way is she going?"
"Couldn't say, sir."
"Stay up there and watch her."
"Aircraft!"
A lone bomber was flying high up overhead. They watched and waited but no attack took place. Away on the port horizon several more machines were circling and diving upon some un-revealed target which they were far too busy attacking to look elsewhere. At that moment the port engine exhaust began to pour out black smoke.
"Tell the Chief that if he can't stop making smoke he must stop the engine," he said mildly enough.
There was a distant "Aye! aye!" and a minute later the recalcitrant Diesel valve was cut out. As the light slowly failed they tiptoed away from the scene, unable to believe their good fortune. Then, as the visibility was such that an appeal against the light would have been sustained by any umpire, a bomber, accompanied by two fighter bombers, suddenly appeared. They circled round the luckless submarine, weaving patterns in and out of the clouds so that it was impossible to keep the guns on the target. Then, suddenly, the two smaller planes came down with everything blazing. Their object clearly was to demoralize the defence in preparation for the bomber to come in and finish the job. Their shooting was erratic but their aerobatics were superb. They dived and swooped, rolled and banked, distributing their favours over a wide area. Small bombs, cannon shell and machine-gun bullets were whizzing in all directions. Finally, by some prearranged signal, they hauled off and the big bomber came roaring in. Gauntlet, with full rudder on, swerved violently, all her guns were trained upon the attacker but he came in until they could see the little men aboard her and then the men at the guns saw two heavy bombs leaving their stowage. Down they came together, falling close under the Gauntlet's port quarter where they exploded under water with tremendous force. The submarine was picked up and shaken by the explosions, and those below waited for the sound of rushing water. But the vessel's hull was stoutly constructed and apart from starting some minor leaks she was apparently unharmed.
Away flew the bomber and back came the lighter craft, but by now it was too dark for safe flying and they soon withdrew.
They had survived. Tomorrow was another day.
He imagined what the Staff-Officer would have said about this affair. "The first part of the planned withdrawal must consist of making every attempt to disengage from the enemy. After that the defences could be strengthened and preparations made for the possible resumption of hostilities on the ensuing day." Just so!
He heard a voice at his ear. " Shall we fall out the guns' crews now, sir?" It was
"Yes, please," he said. "Get me out a list of defects. I'll come down and have a look at things shortly."
It was strangely quiet now on the bridge. The smell of cordite smoke still lingered in his nostrils but the men had gone. Once again the Gauntlet took on that extraordinary purposeful rhythm as she breasted the little waves. The night was soft and dark. Thank God there was no moon. Thank God those last bombs had missed. Thank God for chaps like
As soon as
It was much worse than anything he had imagined. Coming upon a state of chaos, which by now had been accepted by everyone else, was a great shock. Tommy was seeing the damage in toto, whereas the crew had become accustomed to it a piece at a time, and were carrying on in their bizarre surroundings as if it was the most natural thing in the world to walk up to one's knees in water, through a chlorine-ridden atmosphere, in almost total darkness. As he reached the bottom of the control-room ladder, a man walked past him carrying two cups of tea and shouting: "Char's up, come and get it." The men on the bucket chain suspended operations and shuffled forward for refreshment.
"H'm," he said, as he took in the details of the damage, "bit of a mess, isn't it?" He walked over and examined the hole in the hull, through which protruded the dripping blanket-plug which Toogood had inserted, how many years ago? He must see that the man was given the highest recognition for this act, funny to think that it was only a few days back that Toogood had tried to get out of it all.
"How's the patch getting on?" he asked.
"I've got it here, sir," said Izzy, producing his masterpiece with great pride.
"Is it ready?" asked the Captain.
"As soon as I got me strong-backs in place, sir."
"Can you fit it in the dark?"
"Doubtful, sir."
"All doin' as well as can be expected," he said in a loud voice.
Several of the less dangerously wounded turned to see their Captain. "Sometime," thought
"Um?"
Then the casualty list. Two dead men so far.
"No doubt at all," said
"Make 'em up in a couple of blankets---you'll have to
put something at their feet-----"
trailed off. "The sooner the better," he went on--- speaking from a great distance---"bad for morale to keep 'em lying about---can't wait till daylight. How's the ammunition supply?"
"Enough for a couple of attacks."
"That all?"
"I'm afraid so."
"How are the batteries?"
"Getting a bit low but they should last another forty-eight hours."
"No chance of charging them?"
"Not a hope."
"Forty-eight hours won't be enough," he said, "nothing like. We shouldn't get more than half-way." He went on with rather an impressive doodle, and saw into the possible future. A submarine, slowly filling up with water, a quarter of her crew incapacitated, her engines stopped for lack of electric power, total darkness below, feverish attempts to build rafts from anything that floated---sharks---the inevitable plunge, which would finish the tragedy. Alternatively, a direct hit when the attacks were resumed at daylight. Quicker and more certain. He finished the doodle and looked at his second-in-command.
"I suppose," he said, "there's no other submarine in these parts?"
"I doubt it," said
"Pass the word for the P.O. Tel." called
"Sit down," said
"If we get the wireless cabinet pumped out, could you transmit?" asked
"No, sir," said
"Why not?"
"All our generators are wet to start with and the condensers and the potentiometers---and------"
"Quite."
"That's that."
"Of course," said Toogood, "I could rig up a simple receiving set."
"That's not much good," said
"Half a minute," said
"I don't see," said
" If we intercepted a signal from a boat on patrol we might know where she was."
"But there aren't any on patrol within five hundred miles," said
"Not as far as we know," said
"Goose!"
"What is it, Toogood?" asked
"I just remembered, sir. A signal from Carpentaria, just as the shot hit us."
"What did it say?"
"It said when she was sailing, her position, course and speed and her patrol position. But I can't remember the details."
"What did you do with the signal?" asked
"Then it's in the cabinet now?"
"Yes, sir. Shall I get it?"
"Yes please. You'll have to put on an escape apparatus and get in there somehow. Be as quick as you can. It's vital."
"Aye, aye, sir."
He began another doodle. Supposing that it was possible to make contact with a friend before the electricity supply ran out what was the next most important thing in the problem? In answer to his question came the sound of a clattering bucket and a string of obscenity from some weary member of the chain who had stopped it with his head. Forty-eight hours more bailing and they'd all be mad. He looked at the expectant
" We'd better get that patch on while the weather holds," he said. "I don't like having a light on deck but it's the choice of evils. Tell Sammons to go right ahead. Take a deck-cloth up and try to shroud the light."
Aye, aye, sir."
"Better attend to it yourself."
"I was going to."
"Come back when you've done it."
"Had we lived I should have had a tale to tell of the hardihood, courage, and endurance of my companions which would have stirred the heart of every Englishman."
Curious trait of the English; they invariably got themselves into a proper mess, due to insufficient preparation, or foolhardy courage, and then performed prodigies of valour in extracting themselves from positions they should never have got into. A deep sigh interrupted his meditations and he became aware for the first time that the Gannet was fast asleep in his bunk.
He got up and went on the bridge squeezing his way past a profane and weary bucket chain.
"If that patch works," he said cheerfully, "you won't have to do that much longer."
His words gave them fresh heart, and they began to banter as he left them.
"''Ere, Tucket" said one, "go easy with that bucket."
" What's up w'i you,
" This is the one thousandth seven hundred and forty bleedin'-second blinking bucket I've emptied,
"'Course I've counted 'em that's why."
"'Ear what the Skipper said?"
"'Ow far are we from 'ome?"
" Couple a fousand miles, I shouldn't wonder."
" Cor, what a turn up for the book."
'"Ere, Lofty, what about a cup o' char?"
"Bucket comin' up!"
It was very dark and the air was sweet.
"Tell you what, sir," he said, "if you want to make a job of this you'll 'ave to stop the engine and list 'er well over. Otherwise when I pull out that blanket you'll get a lot of water below."
He was quite right and
"All right," he said shortly. "Tell the engineer officer to speak to me." (This down the voice-pipe).
" Chief here, sir,"
"Oh Chief," said
There was a pause. "I don't see why not, sir."
"No danger------" persisted
getting somewhere where it shouldn't?"
"I'd rather she went on running," said
"All right," said
He waited for
Meanwhile Bert Toogood, stark naked, and wearing an escape apparatus, was groping round the flooded wireless room in pitch darkness, trying to lay his hands on the signal log, or alternatively the sharp pointed file where he stacked his coded signals. The wireless room wasn't much bigger than a telephone box, and yet he had managed to lose his bearings. The trouble was that he kept touching parts of the office which were "alive," the whole of his body was tingling as if he was in a bed of stinging nettles. It was most disconcerting, and the oxygen which he was breathing made him very stupid. Impossible to think clearly.
He found the little desk with his hands, and pulled his buoyant body down until he should have found the bench on which he had sat for many hundreds of hours. But it wasn't there; being buoyant it had floated to the "ceiling" of the room. The signal log had been on that bench, goodness knew where it had got to. Out went his hands, feeling along the desk for the pointed file. It wasn't there. Must be somewhere! He pulled himself down into a squatting position and immediately found the file by sitting on its up-turned point. Gingerly he felt down and grasped the thing with its sodden papers and hauled himself up to the open air, where he handed it to his mate with strict injunctions not to disturb it until he came. Then, arming himself with a watertight torch, he went back into the cabinet to find the log. It took twenty minutes to locate the thing, which was squeezed against the ceiling of the office by the floating bench lockers, and when he was once more in the open air he saw that the log was likely to be of little value, for he had written in it in indelible pencil which, contrary to its name, had dissolved in water, leaving only a purple mess and a few legible words. With feverish haste Toogood found the signal file and extracted the last signal from it. It was nearly pulp but the numbers in the cypher groups were mostly legible. With the aid of a light from the pocket torch he copied the groups afresh on to a dry piece of paper and then went on deck to recover the code books. After half an hour he had succeeded in getting about eighty per cent of the entire message but some of the groups were incorrect and it required a process of elimination to find out which numbers were wrong.
Fortunately for
As
"If that lot leaks," said Izzy, "I'll join the Swiss Navy."
"Well done, Sammons," said
Meanwhile
"Captain, sir."
"Captain, sir?"
"Yes, Chief."
"Water in the fuel system---have to strip it all down--- couple of hours."
"Damn," said
This was a bitter pill. Everything now depended on that engine, for
He went below, leaving
"If you sight any thing," he said, "press the hooter twice. I'll warn the crew that that means action stations. Gangway!"
Down the ladder he went, squeezing past the buckets into the acrid-smelling control-room and forward to the wardroom where Toogood pored over his books and muttered to himself.
"Any luck?" asked
Toogood thrust the signal pad towards him.
"Carpentaria to General (and etc.) Goose will sail for patrol at nineteen hundred on (blank) passing through position eight degrees north eighty-four degrees east at midnight on (blank) and subsequently patrolling on a north easterly course." Then followed some details of no importance to this narrative.
"Why the blanks?" asked
"Nothing more you can do?" he asked.
Toogood was nearly asleep. "I tried everything, sir," he said, "I'm very sorry, sir."
"Well," said
"Tricky," he said.
"All right," said
The control-room was completely silent as he entered it, except for the sound of hammering which came faintly from the engine-room. The bucket party were standing in a group that any sculptor would have given his back-teeth to see. Naked to their waists, shining with oil and sweat, hair lying damply on foreheads, eyes agleam with fatigue, cheek bones reflecting the high lights in that shadowy compartment, they stood to attention as the bodies swathed and trussed in blankets were laid down on the floor.
"All ready, sir," said
"We therefore commit his body to the deep to be turned into corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body (when the sea shall give up her dead) and the life of the world to come------"
"Amen."
" Carry on," said
It took four men to get the awkward bundles on deck. There was a pause and then two dull thuds, as the bodies hit the saddle tanks. " If I'd thought of it," said
The men accepted his apology. They too had hated the sound of those two dull thuds.
" Half an hour, sir," said
He had had no intention of sleeping and indeed there was much to be done in preparation for the morning, but within a few minutes of resting his head he went out completely.
Down in the engine-room the tired fitters were painstakingly stripping and blowing through the entire fuel system. It was a job which could not be hurried, for a single omission might mean a complete repetition of the whole business. Up on the bridge
Away up forward Guts tended his wounded with rough and ready sympathy. A drink of water, a smoke, or a shot of pain-killer, were his only means of comforting the sufferers. He went round every half-hour and spent the rest of the time dozing on his capacious haunches, while the Gauntlet rocked quietly in the eternal swell.
The bucket-chain was still at it.
When at last the port engine had been completely freed of water, and the source of the trouble removed,
"All right, Pilot," he said, "I'll look out now."
Over his head the Gannet's bunk creaked as he sat up in it.
"How are you?" he whispered.
The Gannet smiled. "Better," he said. "I'll go and give the Skipper a spell."
He got out of his bunk and
"I must write to the Lancet about it." He saw the Gannet go aft and then fell asleep.
On the bridge
"Who's that?"
"The Sub, sir, can I give you a spell?"
"Not for a while," said
" It looks to be clearing now," said the Gannet.
"Good," said
"Take a pencil and paper," he said to the Gannet, "and go aft to the compass. Write down the ship's head every time I say 'Now.' I'll get a bearing with the bridge 'Pelorus.' It's rough and ready but it'll have to do."
Now it was the Gannet's turn to be shocked by the conditions below, and to marvel at the stoicism of the men who steered the submarine by sheer physical strength, in surroundings of all abiding danger.
He grinned at the two men who gave him back a weary nod and then explained what he was trying to do. Presently a faint voice from forward said: "Ship's head--- now!" He noted it down and waited.
For half an hour he repeated the process---
By the time he'd finished it there was but one hour to dawn. Not worth turning in. The faithful Flunkey had managed to wake up and brew some hot tea. It was strong and sweet and very invigorating.
The dawn is overcast, the morning lowers, And heavily in clouds brings on the day,The great, the important day, big with---fate-
Fourteen men were out of action, but thanks to the fact that most of the Gauntlet's machinery was in the same condition, there were enough men to man the guns to drive the engine, and to steer the ship.
At half-past five that morning they were all at their stations, waiting to see what daylight would bring.
It was a black hour, the sea was quiet. An oily swell rocked the submarine gently and broke on her saddle tanks, making phosphorescent ripples round the hull. The air was warm and moisture-laden. It was difficult to know what sort of day it would be when the sun rose.
In this hour of waiting men spoke in low voices, stifled by yawns. There was nothing to do but wait. In all his experience in submarines
Down in the control-room
"Never knew a worser set-up than this," said the coxswain. "Not in all my experience. Did you, sir?"
"Looks a bit crafty," said
"Ow long will the battery last, sir?"
"Another forty-eight hours, more or less."
"And after that?"
" We might get picked up," said the coxswain.
"Sure," said
" What'll 'appen when we're run out of ammo?"
"Throw our boots at 'em," said
"I must say," said the coxswain, "you take it all very calm, sir. Very calm indeed."
"What the hell," said
"Pity," said Guts, "she's a good old bitch. Lively on the after-planes. You can always tell a good sub by the way her arse comes up. Best divin' boat I ever knew. Was you ever in 'L' boats?"
" Before my time," said
"Cor, you didn't miss much. I was second-coxswain of one of 'em in China with Sanderson---you know, he's our Captain now."
"What was he like as a skipper?" asked
"You'd 'ave laughed," said Guts. "That solemn. Never made a joke in 'is life. Not like our
"No," said
" Suppose he'll get into a packet o' trouble if we get back. He shouldn't oughter 'ave surfaced, should he, sir?"
" I don't suppose he'll care much, as long as he gets us back," said
"I remember 'im when he was a Sub-Lieutenant. That would 'ave been in the old second flotilla. Lively! Used to knock it back I can tell you. Every mornin' he'd come along to the 'swain (Skin-tight White, d'you remember 'im, sir?) and say: "Arf a gill please and plenty of milk,' and he'd always get it. Did you good to see him laughing. He'll be a loss."
" For
"We're all in the same boat, if you see what I mean," said Guts. "Might as well 'ave a bit of a natter seein' as we 'aven't long to live. Could you go 'arf a gill, sir? Quite a nip in the air. It'll put 'eart into you."
"No," said
"You shall 'ave it. I'll be working up a nice surplus by then, now that two 'ave lost the numbers of their mess."
"You're a rascal," said
"Don't you believe it," said the coxswain, "I do what I thinks right. That's all."
"What about the regulations?"
"Like piecrust, made to be broken. Tell you what, isn't there a chance of pickin' up with one of our side?"
" There is a faint one. If we survive till dark."
"Ah," said the coxswain. "That's it." He held out his hand. "Well," he said, "in case we're too busy, here's 'opin', sir. You and I always got on well together." He turned to go and then turned back: "Sure you don't want a tot? Can if you want to, you know."
"Dutch courage," protested the Chief.
"Go on," said the coxswain, "it'll put 'eart into you."
"If that's the worst that happens to you," said
"Ah," said the Chief, "I was forgettin'. 'Ow's Oosit?"---this to the coxswain.
" Dead," said the coxswain " didn't you know? Buried 'im this morning."
"I'm sorry," said the Chief, "he was a good man."
"They're all good men," said
"Thanks," said
"Optimist," said
He looked up the open hatchway and saw that it was still pitch dark. The Skipper, he reflected, had got them up in plenty of time; not that he,
"What's going on, sir?" whispered a seaman.
"It'll be light soon," said
"Not too bad, sir," said the man. "I've written a few lines to my missus. Will you take 'em, sir?"
"If you want me to, I will," said
"You never know," said the seaman.
"Too right," said
"That's right," said the wounded man. He grinned painfully.
On deck the day was a long time coming. No one spoke now. They yawned a good deal, and those who had it chewed gum. Each man was thinking his own thoughts; getting himself conditioned to the inevitable. That was always the hard part; the acceptance of the situation. Once one had mastered the desire to go on hoping a new sort of serenity seemed to arrive and things looked less frightening.
Someone at the forward gun whistled tunelessly, the same air over and over again. Others began to follow suit until there was a chorus of desultory discords.
"Stop that noise!" he said roughly. "Lot of bloody canaries, you are. I can't hear anything."
The whistling ceased; the seconds ticked very slowly and darkness seemed to be with them for all eternity.
He looked at the luminous dial of his watch. It was nearly sunrise, and yet so far there was no indication of it. Then, suddenly, even for this tropical zone, it started to get light. Here was no gradual lightening which crept up on one; it was as if some stage manager had switched on the first row of lights, and thereafter would go on switching on until the stage was fully illuminated,
" Like thunder, out of China 'cross the bay."
With a tremendous sigh of relief
The minutes passed; the sun was mounting fast; it really was day now. There had been time for aircraft to take off in daylight and fly a hundred and fifty miles, but so far nothing had been heard or seen.
Slowly the spirits of the men on the bridge were undergoing a change. The calm and dispassionate expectation of annihilation was passing, and in its place a fervent hope was beginning to burgeon. It seemed impossible that their enemies could be able to act so stupidly. The Japanese were supposed to be so thorough. Little murmurs of conversation, an occasional laugh, combined with the relief of being once more able to smoke, produced an atmosphere of restless gaiety.
It was, of course,
They all could see her now and waited for her to turn and come in to attack, or at least to circle round while calling in the others, but she held on her course and disappeared to the westward, leaving everybody in a state of deep anxiety. Had she seen them? If not she would soon be returning from her search and might well pass right over them on the next journey. And so they were now pitchforked into a condition of mind as far removed from the early morning serenity born of despair, as it was possible to be. Twelve hours of daylight. It would never pass. It only needed two determined attacks completely to expend their remaining ammunition. Nobody would offer less than a hundred to one against their survival. Time was hardly moving for them.
The whistling broke out again.
How could a day take so long to pass? How could it be that as one anxiety decreased another took its place?
Half-way through daylight
It all now depended upon
He sent for the signal and studied it carefully.
"Goose will sail------" the operative word was "will."
When that signal was written by the Staff-Officer, Goose had not sailed, but that signal might have been written twenty-four hours before it went out on a routine transmission.
The chances were all in favour, he said, of Goose having sailed from Base at nineteen hundred last night. That being the case there was no possibility of her arriving at the rendezvous until the midnight after next. That was, of course, assuming that the signal which he (Toogood) had intercepted was a fresh one, and not a "back general" pushed out as a matter of routine for just such a contingency as was occurring. In that case the "time of origin" which is always tagged on to every message, would have cleared up the whole thing. Unfortunately the time of origin, which he had recorded, did not make sense. So there they were. On the whole the chances were "midnight after next," but it wasn't certain.
"When's the next routine broadcast?" asked
"I'll try, sir."
" Good. Take anything you want and any hands you want, and tell the First-Lieutenant to speak to me."
"I'm here, sir," said
" Ah," said
"Numbers one and two are getting pretty low," said
" All in all," asked
"Difficult to say," said
"Nothing definite anywhere. Will it last until tomorrow midnight?"
"Just about," said
"It must," said
"And the battery fans," added
"Of course," said
"If I could take the boards up," said
" We might be attacked at any moment," said
Soon the control-room floor had been uprooted, and the battery tops were exposed in all their ugliness. It was easy to see where the sea water had gone in. Half a dozen hands, employing squeeze bulbs began to draw off the offending liquid, squirting it into buckets which were once more hoisted up the hatch. Then fresh water from the drinking tanks was poured in and again drawn off; in that way little salt remained in the battery, though it stank to high heaven and would continue to do so as long as one particle remained.
While this was going on
Up forward in the torpedo-room,
As the moments slowly passed
Now the worries were coming thick and fast.
The last hours before darkness tried their nerves as nothing else had. Tempers were raw and the lack of hot food was making itself felt. The crew knew now that everything depended upon which midnight Goose was due, They saw the Captain's predicament and they didn't relish the thought of hanging about for twenty-four hours, instead of pressing on whilst their wasting assets were available. There was a certain amount of muttered conversation, and uninstructed criticism.
Meanwhile,
"Cor," he said, "she puts me in mind of that bint in
She was calling Gauntlet, or rather she was addressing herself to Gauntlet, and expected no reply. She would repeat the message when darkness came. Something like nostalgia came once more to
Page after page of figures, all neatly written in five-letter groups. That lot would take close on an hour to decipher. Wordy lot the Carpentaria, sendin' out all that stuff and little of it of any value to a patrolling submarine. Presently it ended, and Carpentara went off with a click. Gingerly
For half an hour they worked until nothing was left undone. Then, and only then, did
The plan for what the Americans like to call "meeting up with" the Goose was a simple enough one. On arrival in position
Of course, such an action was fraught with dangerous consequences; a Japanese patrol might be the first to turn up---that was a risk which must be accepted. As a secondary precaution
When darkness fell all thoughts on board centred upon this chance of meeting Goose. Everybody knew the situation, though no organised "hand out" of news existed aboard. In a submarine the grape-vine works very well. The Captain states his intentions to his officers, and those who are near it are included in the broadcast. If the Captain wishes to keep a secret, he tells no one, for that is the only way that secrets can be kept.
Up on the bridge the Captain peered into the darkness and wondered whether he should not start popping the signal lights off at an earlier hour than that of the rendezvous. Behind him the leading signalman, one Jago, who had hitherto played a very small part in this narrative, fingered his pistol and touched and retouched the cartridges. A signalman on patrol has little opportunity to perform his specialised duties; he just acts as a lookout, takes a trick at the hydroplanes and generally mucks in with the seamen; but when the operation is over, and the tired submarine approaches her base, he comes into his own, and it's " Signalman on the Bridge!" day and night.
At eleven o'clock that evening
"What shall we give 'em, sir?" asked Jago.
"Got any blue ones?"
"No, sir, green."
"Then we can't be patriotic. Give 'em red, white and green, exactly every quarter of an hour. Got it?"
" Yes, sir. Red, white and green."
"O.K. Carry on."
Phut! Phut! Phut!
A little burst of flame and smoke at the pistol point, a few seconds wait and then a single colour star from each cartridge, floating down gracefully to quench itself in the sea. Fifteen seconds of hope, followed by fifteen minutes of waiting.
Supposing Goose was in the vicinity, what would she make of this random selection of coloured lights ? Many a time on patrol
Phut! Phut! Phut! Eleven-fifteen p.m. The stars fell close alongside and they heard the finality of that hiss as the sea quenched them.
"All ready, sir."
"Right," said
"Aye, aye, sir."
Flick-flick-flick, flack-flack-flack, flick-flick-flick. The pale pencil of light started out bravely enough but the beam seemed to disappear into the haze within a few dozen yards.
A man at the gun gave an exclamation.
"What is it?" asked
"There, sir---a light," said the man.
"Don't say 'there,'" expostulated
"Red fifty, sir," said the man. "I could 'ave sworn I saw something."
They watched on that bearing, and the signalman kept his lamp nickering upon it, but not one of them saw anything. Then another man saw another light, which turned out to be a glimpse of the new moon, as it rose behind the clouds.
Phut! Phut! Phut!
Eleven-thirty. Now there really was a chance. Half-an-hour's steaming was only five miles. It was an overwhelmingly exciting thought, that suddenly out of the teeming darkness, safety would come. It didn't bear thinking about.
Something splashed on to
"Midnight, sir," said the signalman.
"No good," said
"As you were! Give 'em a burst for luck. You never know!"
Phut! Phut! Phut!
Poor little stars, only just visible from the bridge. "SOS" went the Aldis.
"This bloody rain's cooked our flaming goose," said
"I think it's easing a bit, sir," said
"Easing my aunt fanny," said
Gone was the methodical approach. This was the end of the tether. It was now, or never!
"And another one," said
"Now, shine your Aldis right ahead and keep flicking." Near breaking point now. Why was he so excited ? " Go on, man, what's the matter?"
" It's clearing," said
"Are you all right, sir?"
"Right ahead," he said distantly, "right ahead."
Then the crew took it up. " There she is, sir! That's 'er all right! See 'er, Bunts? Go on, answer'im."
Discipline was near to breaking.
"Not yet, sir," said the signalman, "he's too far off."
"Go on flashing," said
"Here, sir," said
The sal volatile did the trick---the world ceased to spin and his memory began to return. Something had happened just as he had fallen.
"How are you, sir?"
"I thought I saw a light," said
"It was a light," said
"What's he making?" he called to the signalman.
"N. C. B.," read out Jago, as the letters flickered through the darkness.
"The challenge," said
Flick-flick went the lamp. "Gauntlet" repeated the signalman. "Badly damaged with casualties aboard," went on
"------aboard," concluded the signalman.
"Please close me."
"He may not be Goose" said
"Too late now," said
The signalman began to sing out a message he was reading.
"Why don't you answer my challenge?"
English, thank God! Shiner wasn't sticking his neck out.
"All burnt," said
"Message passed," said Jago.
There was a pause. The stranger's light had gone out. Shiner, if it was Shiner, was thinking. In spite of his intense feelings of pain and excitement
"'E's bobbin' at you, Bunts," said a helpful member of the gun's crew. Jago swallowed a snarl and started to read.
"What ship?" he sang out.
"Gauntlet, pendants G four two," instructed
Flick-flick-flick---went the Aldis.
"Message passed," called Jago.
'"E's bobbin'" said the helpful man.
"For crying out loud," said Jago. "I'm not bloody well blind!"
"What is the name of the commanding officer's wife?"
"Good old Shiner," said
"Ow d'you spell it, sir?"
"Goose."
At last!
Then the gun's crew burst the bounds of discipline. They cheered and slapped each other on the back.
It was
"Oh Chief," said
"Aye, aye, sir," said Mr. Miles, "just as well, sir." he added, "I was just coming up to tell you that we'll 'ave to stop the engine, after thrust is red-'ot!"
No longer alone. No longer isolated from the outside world. Everyone aboard the Gauntlet now understood the meaning of the expression---"a new lease of life"; but it still remained problematical as to how long the new lease would turn out to be. It depended upon the outcome of next day's enemy activity and whether
In the meantime the feeling of relief was profound. Shiner Wright, in the Goose, wasted no time in closing the Gauntlet until the two vessels were heaving on adjacent swells. Then with the aid of megaphones the two Captains conversed. Shiner opened it in characteristic fashion:
"What's the matter?" he bellowed.
"You have had a rousing time," said Shiner. "I'll send my First-Lieutenant over in the boat. What do you most want?"
"Bandages, morphia and electric torches," said
"Any bods?" asked Shiner.
"Do you think you can get her in?" asked Shiner.
"I'm going to get her in," said
"I'll get on the blower," said Shiner, "and tell old man Sanderson to send out a rescue party. How's that?"
"Fine," said
Presently Toogood called up the voice-pipe and read out the signal which he had intercepted from Goose's transmission.
"Goose to Captain , Carpentaria" it ran, "am in company with Gauntlet badly damaged, unable to dive, fourteen casualties. Both engines and motors out of action. Will stand by her until further orders. Gauntlet hopes to get one engine going shortly, but doubtful if battery will last. Will need a tow. My position (etc., etc., etc.)."
Meanwhile the flickering of lights on Goose's casing gave evidence of activity in connection with the assembling and launching of her collapsible boat, and very soon the frail little craft was rowed across the heaving waters and disembarked three men with stores. Then it went back for more.
With both engines stopped the shipping of a new piston to one of them and the reconnection of the circulating pump for its normal function, became a speedier operation.
Bill Brown, walking through the ship, alert for any sign of an increase of chlorine, looked at the sleeping figures, some huddled, some stretched out in the gangway, some with their heads fallen on to their plates, and saw how near a thing it had been to disaster. A few more hours and their resources would have been completely exhausted.
Even now it wasn't over by a long chalk. Another day would dawn soon and they were still far from home.
The Gannet, now exhibiting definite signs of recovering his lost reputation as a trencherman, was keeping watch on the bridge.
By five o'clock the engine was ready for a trial.
To his great joy the engine started up and proceeded to settle down to a steady rhythm which sounded healthy enough. Away on the beam an invisible Goose was steering a parallel course. The withdrawal was proceeding, "according to plan."
He would be called to account for this sorry state of affairs when he got in. That did not unduly perturb him, he had done what he considered to be right and was quite prepared to take the consequences, but he would be very sorry indeed if this fracas meant the breaking up of his magnificent ship's-company. Gauntlet would need a long refit; her crew couldn't hang about waiting for her to be mended; that meant that they would be drafted to "spare crew" and dispersed. As for the officers, they, too, would kick their heels in the depot-ship until vacancies, due to decease or promotion, moved them into other vessels. This then meant the end, either way.
" Captain, sir." It was Toogood with another signal.
"Goose from Carpentaria" it ran, "remain in company with Gauntlet until joined by Wolfcub who should reach you by fifteen-thirty hours today."
Now they really were going to be saved.
Half an hour before sunrise a weary crew stood to. They didn't expect a dawn surprise, but, on the other hand they had been advertising their presence with lights and some chance patrol vessel might well have sighted something. So they yawned and nattered in low voices, and waited for daylight to allow them to go below and rest again.
It was a mirror calm morning, airless, and heavily overcast. The barograph, which continued to tick merrily, and was one of the few going concerns aboard, showed a considerable fall in barometric pressure.
"Lots of wind coming," said
Daylight arrived with all its dramatic suddenness, and showed a completely empty horizon, though not a very distant one. Of Goose there was no sign. Shiner wouldn't have done otherwise than dive before dawn; he was somewhere around, exercising his crew and making arrangements to manage with six men under his proper complement. He'd be popping up soon.
"Fall out the guns' crews, sir?" asked
"Yes please," said
"Periscope on the port bow!"
"Hold on," said
" Gone now, sir," said the signalman.
"Fall out the guns' crews," said
But nobody moved. They watched the periscopes with interest; now they were close on the beam, and moving at speed, throwing up two fine white feathers of spray.
"He's going to do gun-action surface," said
" Bet he mucks it," said the Gannet hopefully. " There he goes." As he spoke the two periscopes leaned forward and slid out of sight. Nothing remained visible save a few white bubbles and a slight swirl from the Goose's rapidly turning propellers. They'd all seen this before, but loved to watch; there was something fascinating at the thought of that great steel cigar, capable of moving in three dimensions; and, of course, they were able to imagine exactly what was going on inside her.
At this moment, no doubt, the guns' crews were crouching in the access towers, waiting for the rapid surfacing of the submarine.
"Come on," said
" There she blows," said
It was indeed like the surfacing of some great fish. First the tip of one periscope, then the curved extremity of her stream-lined bow. Then suddenly the whole upper part came out of the water at tremendous speed. Water gushed from her freeing-ports in great silver gouts. White foam bubbled round the base of her conning-tower, but as yet there was no sign of life aboard her. Then, as if they had been ejected by springs, the men were everywhere. Round went the guns and the voices of the loaders came over the water. "Ready!"
"Not bad," said
"Too much angle," said
Guts Hinton nodded. "Yes, sir," he said, "take the angle off at twenty-five feet is what we used to say. Nothin'll stop 'er from coming up after that. Makes it easier for the gun's crew too."
"How was it?" called Shiner through his megaphone.
" Lousy," answered
"Jealous," shouted Shiner. He had something there.
A burst of smoke at Goose's tail showed that she was now on her Diesel engines. Gradually she crept close alongside until
"I'm hand-steering from aft," he called, "we don't want to bump at this stage."
"
" Sure," said
"In that case," said Shiner, "you better have some of my ammo. You can't shoot without bullets."
"All right," said
" I'll get everything ready," called Shiner as he sheered off, "and when we are, you stop and I'll come alongside--- there's practically no swell and we won't bump each other ---much."
And so it turned out. The two vessels came gently together and boxes of ammunition were passed by hand across their saddle tanks. Every man aboard each vessel was employed and the whole operation took less then five minutes. At the same time
Half an hour later the two submarines set course again for a rendezvous with Wolfcub, one mile apart abeam. It really looked as if their luck was holding.
Only three hours remained of daylight and only two before the rendezvous would be reached. The barometer continued to fall and the air to become more and more oppressive. It would be as well to effect a junction with the destroyer as soon as possible and to transfer the wounded before the storm, which was so obviously brewing, burst upon them.
Down below Mr.
"She's leaking somewhere else," said the Chief. " Stands to reason. The amount of pumping that's been going on should 'ave cleared the ship hours ago, and yet it looks to me as if there's more water in the bilges now than there was last night."
"It's not coming through that patch," said
"Then what is it?" asked
" Fractured pipe as like as not," said the Chief. " Some of them crumps was a bit too close for comfort." He sighed. " If it comes up much higher it'll be over the top of my sea-boots."
"My sea-boots," said
"And then," said
"Shall I tell the Skipper?" asked
" I'll 'ave another looksee first," said the Chief. " I've got an idea where the trouble might be."
They separated and
On the bridge the Gannet rejoiced in his new-found health. His pains were not forgotten, in fact he remembered them with feelings of wonder that he was now so comfortable. He stood on the bridge chatting with the lookout. It was afternoon, and a sleepy one at that. Enemy action was now such a thing of the past that with the Captain sleeping below a state of relaxation had spread everywhere. After all, in three hours' time they would be safely under the wing of a surface vessel. Goose was better than nothing, but she couldn't have towed them, or communicate by boat, unless this flat calm continued, which it was not going to. Come darkness and they would be as much out of danger as was possible in war time.
Down below
He woke up, sweating with fear, and went straight up on the bridge, half expecting to find a Japanese naval officer on watch. All was quiet. He lit a cigarette and reproached himself for being windy. Reaction, he supposed. They had had a bit of a time in these last few days.
"What?"
The Sub had said something under his breath.
"Did you speak?"
"Would you have a look, sir?"
"What is it?"
"On the starboard quarter---I think it's a ship."
Goose was not caught napping. She dived before the signalman had time to call her up.
The enemy was about seven miles off coming in on a regular zig-zag. It was difficult to know whether they had sighted the Gauntlet, so deliberate were their movements.
At the speed they were going the whole thing would be over in a quarter of an hour. If Goose didn't fire within ten minutes it would be all up.
It was an extraordinary situation to be in; to be obliged to creep along the surface of the calm sea, while the enemy came for them, and somewhere between them, Shiner was sweating blood to get into point-blank range The three-inch gun's crew loaded their weapon and trained it as far aft as it would bear, but Tommy bade them train it back again. He was fighting a battle with his traditional training. A white flag as a ruse de guerre. Was it justifiable?
Steadily the destroyer closed them. Five minutes to the deadline. Now it was clear that the enemy was not a chance encounter, but one sent out to look for Gauntlet. That being the case she ought to find what she was looking for, a badly damaged submarine with a heavy list, and a despairing crew. Quickly flooding the port tanks and ordering some of the men to run about the casing in simulated panic,
Judging by the bearing of the enemy and the position that Shiner had been in it ought to be a snip for a short-range attack. The enemy was employing a simple zig-zag and the attacker was aware that eventually the destroyer would come close to Gauntlet. The trouble was that there was very little time; with an enemy moving at that speed a few seconds' delay and the torpedoes would miss. Shiner was obviously in a quandary, whether to wait and get a sitting bird for certain, or to fire at the first opportunity. If he delayed the Japanese might blow Gauntlet out of the water, though it certainly looked as if they were out to capture her intact.
"She's opened fire," said the Gannet, and had to steel himself against a desire to drop flat on his face. At that range they couldn't miss.
Three splashes dead ahead showed that this was the traditional shot across the bows.
" Stop Port!" ordered
"A white flag, sir?" said Jago.
"You heard what I said," said
"We haven't got one, sir," said Jago.
"Of course you haven't," said
They were being very stupid about the white flag, apparently there wasn't anything white on board.
" Call him up---with the Aldis," said
"What shall I say?" asked Jago.
"Anything you can think of to keep him guessing," said
He didn't like the situation at all, the destroyer was coming up fast; if Shiner didn't fire soon the Gauntlet would be in the line of sight. " Come on, Shiner, for God's sake."
She was a big modern ship. All her guns were trained upon the Gauntlet. One little word, and that would be the end.
"Make 'Help!' to him," said
But it was no good, there just wasn't one to be found.
Four almost simultaneous gouts of fire and water rose above the enemy. They were followed by a rumbling explosion which split her in half and turned her over. For a moment her bottom was upright and her propellers whirring madly in the air, then a dense pall of black smoke hid her from view and when it lifted the ship was gone. Shiner had not failed.
The magnitude of the disaster which had overtaken the ship was such that the watchers forgot their own case--- that they had been saved and that their enemy had been destroyed. They just could not take it in.
Leaving Goose to surface and search the area for survivors,
As for the weather, the line which the pen was drawing on the barograph was the steepest that
It was with the greatest relief that
The first to step on board the Gauntlet was a two-striped doctor, who showed by every action of his that he was on the job. He gave
"Did you do this?" he asked Guts. The coxswain hesitated between speaking the truth and taking all the credit to himself, and then, for reasons of his own, he conceded a point to his rival.
"Me and
The young doctor looked round and recognised
"Does that mean you're coming back to us?" asked the doctor.
"Don't blame you," said the young doctor, with blundering frankness. "Once of this sort of thing would be quite enough for me too."
Four journeys were necessary, for the serious cases had to be stretched out across the thwarts. The actual handling of the stretchers, from the upper-deck casing of the submarine to the whaler which heaved in the steadily increasing swell, was an exhausting operation for all concerned; moreover, the sight of the wounded in daylight was distressing enough. The sea-boat's crew of the Wolfcub could barely dare to look at the gaunt and filthy men who had endured so much. That they were deeply impressed was borne out by the fact that the young officer in charge of the sea-boat was seen to leave his boat and climb to the Wolfcub's bridge. Shortly afterwards the destroyer's loud hailer began to speak.
"Gauntlet ahoy!" said a stentorian voice.
"How badly are you damaged?"
"Sure you can?"
"We're going to."
That the men sent over from the Wolfcub did not relish the prospects for the next few days, was obvious. Guts Hinton set about them at once telling them that at last they were going to see something of the war. " And don't you go being sea-sick," he admonished them, "there's enough mess down below as it is. Another thing; 'ave you brought your rum rations with you?"
The leading-hand in charge shook his head. "Pity," said Guts, "look lively and get below!" He shepherded them down to the dark and evil-smelling interior of the submarine and shut the torpedo hatch while
To this piece of bad news
With the prospect of having to ride out a cyclone for days ahead of him,
The temptation was great. They were sorely battered, and in no real condition to face a tropical storm.
"Tell
In a few moments the Chief reached the bridge.
"What's all this," said
"That's right," said
"Ah," said
"Rivets," said the Chief. "Six of 'em. Blown clean in. I wondered where the water was comin' from."
"What have you done?"
"Plugged 'em."
"Anything else gone wrong?"
"No, sir," said
"Do you think the port engine will last?"
"We'll do our best, sir. Of course, we'll have to strip 'em both down when we get in. They'll need a proper refit before they're fit to do another patrol."
" I think I can promise you that," said
He took the Chief quietly into the after end of the bridge. "Look here," he said, "there's a cyclone on the way. Not so funny. Are you prepared to battle through, or do you want to jump off while the going's good?"
"Come off it, Chief," said
"You wouldn't come off very well yourself, sir, if you jumped off," said the Chief.
"To hell with that," said
The Chief looked up at the lowering sky, then at the trim outline of the
" I'm game, sir," he said.
Contrary to
Wolfcub soon disappeared from view; for the visibility in broad daylight was bounded by the distance it was possible to see over the tops of the waves. Occasionally Gauntlet would remain perched on the crest of a tumbling wave long enough for the people on her bridge to scan the surrounding sea. Then she would tip her nose down towards the purple and foam-flecked trough of the next wave, and slither swiftly to the bottom of the slope, where she would hesitate for a moment, before deciding to lift to the gradient of the next crest. Up she would come, toiling up and up, until her bows came dripping above the next summit. Then, like some great rocking horse, she would tilt slowly forward, until, once more, she tipped into the next valley.
As the light failed, the clouds, overhead, cleared for a brief moment and showed a sky, lit by an orange coloured light which glinted like the rays reflected from the avenging angel's sword. An angry sight, terrifying in the extreme; the forces of nature putting men's puny efforts at violence to shame.
There would be nothing to fear from the enemy while this lasted, and there would be nothing to expect in the way of succour from any living man. As for
Above all things the noise was the most scarifying. No one who has not been in a full gale can imagine the effect of this constant roaring. The Gauntlet had no mast, her superstructure was never more than a few yards above the surface of the sea, there were no strings or halliards upon which the wind might play a mighty tune, and yet the volume of noise transcended everything imaginable. It was deep and ominous like the sound of the biggest wind in the biggest forest of firs; it screamed with snatches of high voiced imprecations uttered by demons; it thundered incessantly with a background of dull explosions as the wave tops broke, and it hissed, hissed and hissed.
Inside the submarine speech was well-nigh impossible as the waves broke over the hull and thundered in baffled array along her superstructure and tanks. The motion amidships was tolerable; at the extreme ends unbearable. Yet it must be borne.
In the engine-room the pumping party from the Wolfcub pumped and vomited, vomited and pumped.
On the bridge
It was impossible to talk, even in the shelter of the bridge canopy.
It was necessary now to keep one's head down below the level of the canopy, if one wanted to breathe, and the eddies of wind, which struck in from each side, impinged upon the eardrums with curious effect. It was as if all the bad men who had ever been to sea, and had not returned, were stirring to a new life and cursing God as they did so, in a strange language of their own. They muttered and exclaimed, they talked and chanted in a sort of rhythmic dirge. The gates of hell were open that night, gentleness had gone, violence reigned supreme on the face of the waters.
And now came the lightning, jagged, forked, purple, green and dazzling white, and static discharges of electricity which ran like liquid fire up the jumping wires and over the bridge. Every time the sky went light the men on the bridge were given a view of wave tops, some of them towering thirty feet above their heads, hissing and roaring in competition with the thunder-claps.
It could only be a matter of time before Gauntlet faltered and failed to breast such waves; and what would happen if the engine failed?
Presently
The two men settled down to their vigil, holding on with both hands as the submarine pitched violently on the mountain-like wave tops. Down in the troughs it was possible to converse, for the waves were so high that the wind force was greatly diminished under their protective crags, but there was little to be said on such a night as this, and the constant clamour of the elements deadened the imagination and stifled thought. Nothing to do but stick it. If nothing worse than this occurred they would get through.
At the back of his mind
Presently he noticed that the rhythm was changing; the Gauntlet seemed to be jerking more viciously at the turning points, wave tops of fairly solid proportions were crashing into her three inch gun, and filling the bridge with broken water. Something had happened to break up the harmonic motion, the amplitude of the waves had changed and no longer suited the speed of the vessel riding to them.
The Gauntlet's motion was still violent, but some of the jerk had gone out of it. He decided to leave the engine speed as it was and to see what would happen.
For a little longer she competed; then suddenly she seemed to get out of phase with the wavelengths. There was a shuddering jar up forward as if she had hit something solid; her bow, instead of lifting at the bottom of the wave-trough, continued to drive downwards. To Tommy on the bridge it seemed that she had decided to dive, and he wondered momentarily if the vents had been opened and if the submarine was about to take her last plunge; then he heard Morgan Jones' voice, shrill and desperate: "Look out, sir, it's coming!" He looked ahead and saw for a moment a towering wave crest coming from right above him, dozens of feet over the bridge. It foamed, it hissed, and then it struck the bridge and engulfed it. Solid water closed over the little structure and filled it up, plucking with mighty hands at the two men who hung on instinctively. The water was warm and softly insistent; it seemed to be persuading the men to go without a struggle. For aeons of time breathing was out of the question, then the wave passed on, and the men felt the water receding from their bodies as it drained away. Most of it went down the conning-tower hatch, making a greedy sucking sound like that of a giant bath-plug, for the engine was drawing it in instead of air. An anxious
"Are you all right, M-J?" he shouted.
"I'm
"She missed a step," said
"Look out, sir," called
Again it came upon them. Again it engulfed the bridge, filling it up and flooding down into the control-room; again it half drowned the two men, but this time it did some real damage to the gun and they heard the revolving gun shield folding up like an old biscuit tin. Once again came
"This isn't going to last," said
"I'll 'ave to stop the engine, sir," he shouted---"thrust
------," his voice was carried away by the wind---"red hot!"
It only needed that, thought
"Engine stopped!" came a faint and distant voice.
" Down below, M-J!" ordered
Down in the control-room a little knot of seamen and officers were hanging around, waiting for a verdict.
" Ought to have done this before," he shouted to
Now, there was nothing more to be done but hang on and hope, while the Gauntlet lay first on one side and then on the other, whilst waves crashed over her in endless procession. And the lights got dimmer and the air began to get foul. Up on deck something big had carried away; probably the gun; they could hear it crashing round, belabouring its own bridge-work with its long barrel. The men of the submarine, and those of the Wolf cub, lay where they could and presently most of them dozed uneasily, worn out by the clamour of the elements and the violence of the motion.
Only those who have endured such conditions, and, in addition perhaps, those unfortunates who night after night have felt the agony of some mortal disease holding sleep at a distance, can understand what is really meant by a night of horror or comprehend the extraordinary ability of the human mind to hang on to hope. The motion of the submarine was such that every moment seemed bound to be her last. She did everything but roll right over, and as she did there came above the thunder of the waves those awful clanging noises which started the first horrid thoughts in the minds of those experienced seamen. The upper works were being battered flat, of that there was no doubt. What if this flattening process prevented the opening of any hatch? Quite enough to keep a man awake! But there is a limit to what any mind can take. Hours (or centuries) later
"Rounds Sir, please"
It was Guts, creature of routine. He had half crawled, half climbed along the gangway to the wardroom, and now stood hanging on to an overhead pipe like some giant sloth. His rotund face, with its half-halo of chins now bristled with a week's beard; his bald head was streaked with grime; his trousers had slipped so that his belly seemed to be spilling over the top of the belt that held them up in some mysterious fashion. A singlet, which once had been white, was now a dirty grey.
"Did I wake you, sir?" asked the coxswain with just a little too much solicitude in his voice.
'"Old up, sir," said Guts, "she's a bit lively tonight."
" You're telling me," said
The motion was worse than anything either of them had ever experienced. Up on deck there were sounds, ominous sounds of metal under constant attack. The gun, now completely free to swing on its pedestal mounting, was hitting out with every motion of the vessel, first a dozen blows on one side of the bridge structure; then, as the Gauntlet rolled to what in any other vessel would have been over the disappearing angle, flying round to catch the other side a resounding thwack.
'"Ark at that," said the coxswain. "I bet our lot in
the Wolfcub are catching it. Far better 'ave left 'em------"
his voice trailed away as a violent roll dislodged him to cannon with much force against a pipe-cot.
"Turn it up, 'swain," said the plaintive voice of
"Rounds!" retorted the coxswain.
"Struth!" said Izzy. His bright little eyes glinted in the semi-darkness.
"Far better 'ave left 'em aboard us," Guts completed his sentence and tripped on a body, "'Oo's this?" he asked, as he bent down to investigate. "Ah," he said, with a wealth of meaning in his voice, "as I thought. One of the Wolfcubses. What's the matter with you?" He shouted at the recumbent figure. "Don't you feel well?"
The man's reply was unprintable.
" Rounds!" said Guts hastily. They stepped over the semi-corpse, and made the door to the torpedo-room in one rush. There, for the first time, they met a kindred spirit. The Torpedo Gunner's Mate was waiting for them, mournful as ever. He had tidied up his compartment, which was now the only one which looked like that of a normal submarine. The air was fresher there; the motion unbelievably violent. They stood hanging on with both hands and felt the surge of the waves which lifted the Gauntlet up and flung her down again with an infinite variety of motions.
"Pretty bad, isn't it?" shouted
"So do I," said
He returned to the control-room in a series of dangerous rushes. The place was dark and stank villainously of gas. A certain amount of water was dripping through the jointing of Izzy's patch, but it appeared to be holding. A few men had selected this compartment as a suitable place to doss down, but otherwise it was dead. This nerve-centre, which when submerged directed the motions of the submarine, was completely out of action.
So was the engine-room, where, in the after end
"How is it, Chief?" shouted
"No good," he said; he was used to talking in a din, and easily made himself heard. "No good at all. The whole issue has dropped a tenth."
"Any hope of getting it to go again?"
"Not till we get into 'arbour."
"Optimist," said
"Carry on, sir, please?" Guts nearly achieved a salute and fell heavily against the Captain's bunk.
"What the hell!" said
"Beg pardon, sir," said Guts and turned away to his own quarters.
"Anything the matter?" shouted
"Everything taking the strain?" asked the Captain.
"Surprisingly well," said
"Very low," said
"Oh well," said
The Gannet and
By morning the air in the submarine was very bad.
The motion of the submarine, just as violent as ever, made vision through the periscope almost impossible. The top window, some forty feet above the water line, was gyrating, pitching, and rolling madly, and all that
He noted with satisfaction that the glass was rising, and not too steeply at that. Half-time; the storm had not been raging very long, thank God!
"What's the sea like?" asked
" Impossible to say," said
"I want to ventilate the boat," said the First-Lieutenant, "it's pretty fruity now."
"All right," said the Captain, "open up the ventilation."
But this turned out to be impossible, one of the shell hits had breached the ventilation trunk at water level so that it was constantly awash; solid water poured in and the valves had hastily to be shut to prevent salt water getting into the batteries.
"All right," said
"Soon 'ave it open," said Izzy and for a moment
After half an hour's work, however, they only succeeded in pushing one hatch up six inches. From what they could see, said the Chief, the whole of the top fabric of the bridge had been beaten flat by the action of the waves, assisted by the gun. The chances of pushing the hatches up far enough to get out of them were not good.
On the other hand, a certain amount of fresh air could be drawn in by working a blower motor (as long as the current lasted) and when the -sea subsided it would be possible to get out through one of the hatches in the hull. It was serious only if the enemy sent out fresh search parties. From now on the Gauntlet was almost completely helpless, or, as the Staff-Officer would have put it, "non-operational."
all that day the gale raged and the plight of the men, locked inside the darkened submarine, became worse. Although they knew that when the sea subsided they would be able to get out, and although, by taking turns at the crack of the conning-tower hatch, they were able to get some fresh air into their lungs, they all felt themselves to be trapped, for, in a sudden emergency they would not be able to help themselves.
Towards nightfall they became aware of a lessening of the motion and
"You see, sir," he was saying, "if you was to trim the stern up as high as possible, you could open the after escape-hatch long enough to get a working party on deck."
"Not much fun for the working party," he said, "the waves are breaking over the conning-tower by the sound of it."
"The working party," said Toogood, "would have to lash themselves on. Then, if one of them went into the oggin somebody else could pull him out."
"How would you get from the after escape-hatch on to the bridge?" asked
"I've thought of that," said Toogood. "The second coxswain has got some clip-hooks. As soon as a man gets out on deck, he's wearing a lifeline all ready, and he clips himself on to the jumping wire. That'll keep him aboard."
"H'm," said
"Not more than four, sir."
"Who?"
"Me and three others," said Toogood.
"One of you will have to stand out," said
Tommy listened to Bill's suggestion; he was just as anxious to open the hatches as anyone, and he saw the wisdom of getting it done as soon as possible, but he doubted whether any man could live for long in that jumble up top. After a while of thought he had an idea.
"Tell you what," he said, "blow some oil out of one of the fuel tanks and we'll see what effect it has on the waves."
Away sped
"Why didn't I think of that before?" said
"It was Toogood's idea," said
" He'll be very disappointed," said
When the Petty Officer Telegraphist had reported,
"Very good, sir," said
"The First-Lieutenant will go in charge," said
Toogood looked reproachfully at the man who had betrayed him. "Very good, sir," he said,
"Right," said
"Thank you, sir," said Toogood and went away.
"Now, Chief," said
"Aye, aye," said the Chief, "I'll go and tell them off." He went away and came back in a few minutes.
"Chief
"Who's the third?" asked
"Two officers," said
"And two ratings,"
"I suppose so. All right. The sooner the better. Flood all forward auxiliaries."
The news of the project spread like wildfire. A ripple of excitement went through the boat and there was much eager anxiety to be up and doing. Presently the bows of the Gauntlet began to tilt downwards and the stern to rise as the shifting of ballast took effect. When the maximum angle had been achieved the volunteer party, wearing lifelines and carrying tools strapped to their bodies, gathered under the after escape hatch, accompanied by
"First," said
He unscrewed the clips and gingerly raised the hatch an inch or so. An immediate gout of water flooded down momentarily, then ceased, and then came on again as the waves alternatively washed over, and receded from the stern.
It would be a bit risky to throw the hatch wide open, and, if anything jammed it, it would be fatal.
"You've got to move like scalded cats," he said. "A lot of water's going to come in and I can't give you more than thirty seconds for the lot of you. First one out pulls the next one up. Savvy ? "
They nodded.
"You first," said
"All right!" said
There was a crash as the hatch flew open, daylight suddenly lit the dark interior.
"Are you all all right?" he asked.
The hammering ceased for a moment and a footstep sounded close overhead. "It's me, sir," said the Chief. "Macnalty went over the side, and Number One went after 'im. I saw 'im get to young Mac, and then I never saw them again. Both gone." he added.
"Me and Izzy will manage," said the Chief. "Cor! you ought to see what's 'appened 'ere."
The hammering was resumed and
They crouched about, waiting for the rescue party to cut away the plating which hampered the opening of the hatch, and there was little enough conversation. It was still difficult to imagine the Gauntlet without her First-Lieutenant. Even the coxswain was speechless for a while and when some time later an oval of light showed that the conning-tower hatch was now open there was little jubilation. Macnalty was well-liked too, but most of the feeling was that he shouldn't have gone over the side.
"What'd he want to do that for," said Guts---"course
"I reckon it was the oil-fuel on the water what got 'im," he said. "One moment we saw him, didn't we, Izzy, and the next, he was gone. 'Straordinary."
The Gauntlet was lying stern to the sea, so
Down below,
The Chief came running in to the control-room, naked, save for a small singlet. "Yes, sir?" he called.
"Can you get an engine to go?" asked
The Chief shook his head at the voice-pipe. "The bearing's all gone," he said.
"A couple of minutes would do," said
" It'll put paid to 'em," said the Chief.
"Never mind that," said
Now the excitement was intense. The two men were not gone; once again the wardroom Flunkey climbed to the wreck of the bridge, ready to help in the rescue work, while the Chief and his minions primed the port fuel-rail, and wondered what would happen when the engine began to fire.
"Port engine ready, sir," said a voice from below.
There was a rumble, and a rattle, some muffled explosions, and the whole vessel began to shake as if it was being driven over cobble-stones.
"There they are, sir," called the signalman, pointing a frenzied finger right ahead of them. " Only two waves away now!"
"Shall I go, sir?" said the Flunkey. He had a line round his body.
Now the swimmers were only fifty yards away but it was obvious that they couldn't do more than keep themselves afloat.
" Go on," said
The Flunkey dived in. His swimming was magnificent, and he reached the exhausted men just in time. Casting off his line he tied it round the pair of them.
'Haul away!" ordered
BY dawn on the next day two things had happened. Firstly, the sea and wind had dropped away, leaving a steep swell which was rapidly decreasing. Secondly, the electric batteries were now so weak that the lamp filaments only glowed with a feeble glimmer. In spite of the conditions aboard, however, everybody had had some rest, though from now on there would be no hot food or drink.
Within two hours of daylight Wolfcub appeared as if by magic. The Captain of that ship again demonstrated that he was no slouch at seamanship. His method of finding the Gauntlet was to go to the position where he'd last seen her and then to steam down wind along the track on which she would have drifted.
"How are you?" said the loud hailer.
"Glad to see you," shouted
"I'll take you in tow."
"Thanks."
"Do you still want my sailors?"
"No thanks," he replied.
The man's face was a study.
"I'll send over for them."
" Do, and send a fanny full of hot tea while you're about it---we haven't had a cup o' char for days."
"O.K."
The whaler came over and
"You must have had a sticky time, sir," said the officer.
"Yes," said
The whaler went away crowded with men, who showed quite clearly how relieved they were to be leaving. As soon as it was alongside the Wolfcub and hoisted in, the Captain of the destroyer manoeuvred his ship within the proverbial biscuit's toss, a heaving line was thrown across, and the Gauntlet's crew pulled the heavy towing wire aboard. When it was fast the Wolfcub went slowly ahead and took the strain. There was a barely perceptible jerk and the Gauntlet began once more to move ahead through the water. Gradually the destroyer worked up speed until she was doing nearly nine knots.
"At this rate," said
"If it's all the same to you, sir," he said, "we'd like to see this thing out. It may be our last trip together."
"It will be," said
"Thank you, sir," said Izzy and went away to tell the news.
"I went up to the Skipper and I said: 'Now look 'ere, we started in this racket and we're going to flaming well see it out to the bitter end,'" was his description of the interview.
"Blasted cheek," said Guts, "trouble with you Tiffies is that you don't know your place. Poor old
"What'll 'appen to him?" asked Izzy.
"If he had 'is deserts, he'd get a perishing V.C., or somesuch," said Guts, "as it is though this lot'll take a bit of laughing off. Fact is, he never ought to 'ave surfaced."
"What do you know about it?" Izzy sprang to the aid of his beloved
"I know what I'm saying, you mark my words. Old Sanderson won't like it a little bit."
"Can't we do something?"
"What? Put in a request to the Captain and say: ‘Don’t be too ‘ard on our
"Look," said Izzy, "if 'e 'adn't taken on that ship, Goose would never 'ave torpedoed that destroyer. See? "
"And you wouldn't be chawing your fat 'ere. Two blacks don't make a white. Any fool knows that."
"If they lay a finger on 'im I'll---I'll------"
"What'll you do?" interrupted Guts.
"Write to me Member of Parliament."
"Fat lot of good that'll do," said the Coxswain. "All the same I'd like to see Sanderson's face when 'e sees our defect list. The only thing that isn't spitchered is my rum measure."
"Not surprising as you never use it," said Izzy. "Look 'ere, swain, there 'ave been times when I 'aven't loved you like a brother, but you and me are agreed about
"
"Can you see 'im blowin' 'is own trumpet?" said Izzy, " 'e's too blasted modest."
"I see what you mean," said Guts. "I'll 'ave to look it up in the Regulations."
"What will you look up?" asked Izzy.
"Look," said Guts, "there's always a way round if you use the Regulations, or the Articles of War, or both, proper. What you do is to find something you aren't allowed to do and then you put in a request to ask Captain for permission to do it.”
"I don't see."
"Thick 'eaded, that's you," said Guts, "listen. Supposing it's against the regulations to give the Skipper a parting present, and I fancy it is. Well then, I put in my request and see the Captain .”
"Why do you want to give your Commanding Officer a gift, my good fellow,' he says."
"Like hell he does," murmured Izzy.
"'Because, sir,' I reply, "e did so very well and saved all our blasted lives, and we don't want 'im to forget us.' See?"
"With nobs on," said Izzy, "that's not a bad idea of yours, 'swain."
"Ah," said Guts, "you can always find it in the regulations. Did I ever tell you 'ow I got a new set of teeth down to 'is Majesty?"
'"Undreds of times," said Izzy. "What made you join the Navy; man o' your wit'd go a long way in business."
"
"A very long way," said Izzy getting up---"as far as Dartmoor, I reckon, or farther."
He moved away into the darkness before Guts could think of anything more to say.
The object of the two men's conversation was also thinking of the future. By the aid of a hand torch he was scribbling notes from the control-room log-book, in preparation for the writing of his patrol report, when he got into harbour. However he looked at it it was a proper mess-up. The only thing to do was to write a full and detailed report of everything that had taken place, without expressing any opinion of the wisdom of the action he had taken. Furthermore, he must put in a list of recommendations for promotion or decoration. Everybody had behaved so well that it would be a very long list. Then, of course, there would be the relations of the two dead men, and after that---
Presently the Signalman came down with a long message from Carpentaria. " Gauntlet from S/M (N)," it ran. "A preliminary report of proceedings is to be signalled forthwith."
"He's asked for it and he shall have it," he said and thereupon he settled down to work. The report went up to the bridge, a page at a time and was signalled to Wolfcub, who would then code it and transmit to Carpentaria.
Two days later the Wolfcub, with Gauntlet in tow, steamed through the gate in the boom defence and came to a halt in the protected waters of the harbour. It was raining hard, the same sizzling downpour that had fallen upon the Gauntlet when she had so frantically prepared for sea. The Skipper of the tug who came alongside said that it had been raining ever since and would probably go on for ever more, for all he cared.
"Can't keep a thing dry," he said, "what 'ave you been up to?"
With the exception of the steering party aft, the whole of the remaining crew was gathered on deck; looking at the sad little scene as if it were a sunny day at Blackpool. They cracked jokes and showed their evident relief at the prospect of getting out of the dark and evil smelling Gauntlet into a fresh-water bath, a shave and some clean clothes; and then, who knows? a whole bottle of cold beer.
It was all something of an anti-climax, their arrival alongside. It coincided with the dinner hour. This, together with the constant and heavy rain, brought nobody on deck, save the spare crew, who took the Gauntlet's lines and secured them, scuttling away to their roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, just as soon as they could. If they noticed the battle-and-storm-scarred appearance of the Gauntlet, they showed little or no surprise. As for the officers they were not present in large numbers, though the Duty Officer could be seen sheltering in the wardroom lobby.
A most discouraging reception, thought
Things had gone wrong on the focs'le;
The Leading Seaman in charge returned. '"
"No," said
The man scratched his head. " I don't think there is a spare one, sir."
"Not a spare one," said
"Flaming fine log of muckers," said Guts (or words to that effect), "anybody'd think we'd been out on a day's running instead of facin' 'orrible death in h'enemy waters. 'Ere you, 'Uggins, nip down into the Chippy's shop and you'll find plenty of timber. And look alive, d'you hear." The man trotted off obediently, rounding up his party as he did so.
"Cor," said Guts, "they just don't know there's a war on. That's the long and the short of it."
When, however, at long last, the men arrived with a plank it became apparent that this odd reception was the result of an accident.
Commander himself risked life and limb to come tottering over the gangway to greet
"My dear chap," he panted, "that half-witted officer of the day mistook you for another boat which has been docking. What did you think of us? I'd have cleared the lower deck and given you a chuck up."
("Sh'd think so") whispered Guts.
" The Captain's ashore at a conference until tomorrow," went on Wardle, "so you can get into a bath right away. I'm sending the technical staff out to take over completely so that your chaps can clean up and rest; and, by the way," he added, "there's some beer been kept for you from the last ration."
"Thank you, sir," said
"You must be tired," said the Commander.
"That's all right, sir," said
"I shall need a portable pump," went on
"That's all right, sir," said
"Then I must go and see the Captain," said
" I said he was ashore," said Commander .
"So you did," said
"Well," said the Commander, after a pause, "no point in standing in the rain. See you later." He swayed back over the springing planks and
The upper deck of the Carpentaria rocked most disconcertingly as
He sat looking at it. There were footsteps in the lobby outside and then the curtain of the cabin was pulled back. Someone gave an ejaculation of horror and
The Staff-Officer, Twiggs, was staring at him with a look of fear in his eyes which slowly faded as one of recognition replaced it.
"What's the matter?" asked
" Oh, hullo," said Twiggs.
"What were you staring at me like that for?" demanded
" I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting to see anybody here."
"Why not? It's my cabin, isn't it?"
"No," said Twiggs, "it was
"No," said
"You must be tired."
"It wasn't that," said
"His sister in the Wren's is coming out and said she would attend to his gear------"
"Coming out?"
"Yes. I understand so."
"When?"
"I don't know."
"Don't you know anything?"
Twiggs was annoyed. "There's no need to talk to me like that, Woodstock. Even if you are tired. Anyway, what's it got to do with you ? "
"I am married to her," said
"I didn't know," said Twiggs.
"No reason why you should," said
"Oh, that's all right. Every submarine captain does that first thing when he gets in from patrol. I'm used to it."
"I suppose you must be." (
"It isn't my fault that I have to be chair-borne. It's my blasted eye-sight."
"I know," said
"Chaps seem to think that because they have all the fun and excitement in the war they can come back when they're tired and pitch in to the poor bloody S.O. (O.)."
"Oh, quite," said
"You won't," said Twiggs, "but no offence taken. Anybody can see your nerves are all to pieces. You must have had one hell of a time."
"I did, but they aren't."
"What caused it all?"
"Ah," said the Staff-Officer, "I was going to ask. Will it be ready today?"
"If my Sub doesn't fall asleep over the typewriter it will," said
"Good," said Twiggs, "I always like to run through it before Captain gets it—I’m usually able to clear up any ambiguities.”
"Quite right," said
Twiggs looked offended again. "I said so once," he began.
"Sorry, sorry," said
"What did you say?" He'd forgotten the Staff-Officer was still there.
"I said sorry," said
"By the way," he said, "what were you going to do in
A deep blush spread over Twiggs' face. He tried to say something and failed.
Twiggs bolted with all the appearance of a man caught in a shameful act.
If the reader has so far been shown the Carpentaria through the eyes of tired and disappointed "submariners" he should not be misled into thinking that depot-ship staffs are incompetent and callous camp-followers. That is only how they appear to the unthinking men whose whole beings are subject to a violent reaction at the end of a long period of strain. If there is such a place as heaven it is more than likely that the angels in charge of the reception committee catch it equally hot from those mortals who, at last, have come safe to that celestial depot-ship.
A stream of chattering sailors, carrying mess kit, and dirty clothes, was wending its way across the planks, back to the Gauntlet's crew's mess-deck in the fore-part of the Carpentaria.
Guts was on deck rebuking everybody and everything.
"That's right," he said as he caught sight of
"Turn it up," said Izzy disdainfully.
"Well, what's the hurry? I got a couple o' gash noggins down below. Could you go one?"
Izzy was tempted. "Very 'andsome, I'm sure. I'll be back as soon as I've read me mail. I'm a married man, you know."
"I might o' guessed you were," said Guts. "What do you want ?" He turned ferociously on a young supply assistant who wilted before the demeanour of this man with a face like a giant gooseberry.
"The Chief says he'll open the slop store for the Gauntlet's crew for half an hour after stand-easy," he said. He moved quickly away but not fast enough.
"Did he now," the coxswain began gently enough. "What's your name, little man?"
"Macdonald," said the inoffensive messenger.
"And what's the Chief's name?" went on the coxswain, with a deceptively silky turn to his speech.
"
"Well,
"Oh 'ullo, sir," said the coxswain with forced geniality.
Guts looked uncertain as to what line to take.
"They owe it largely to you," said
"Oh, no, sir," said the Coxswain. He too could be handsome.
"No," said
" I don't know what you mean, sir."
"Don't you?" said
"Turn it up, 'swain," said the man who had practised life-saving at sea. "See what I got?" He showed the bottle of gin.
'"Ere," said the coxswain, "you can't take that aboard without it goin' through the gangway wine and spirit book. You know that."
"First-Lieutenant's orders," said the Flunkey, "and it is going through the gangway book, so don't jump to conclusions."
"Just because you can swim," said the
"'Ullo,
"After I've seen me mail," said
"What's the matter with all you blokes," demanded the coxswain, "afraid your wives 'ave left you, or what?
The Torpedo Gunner's Mate was sponging his fingers with cotton waste as he said: "Them six fish ought to come back out o' them tubes. I 'aven't 'ad 'em out for a week."
"Tomorrow, old man," said Guts. "Tomorrow. Jimmy-the-One said we was to Pipe Down. Now, what about'arf a gill?"
" If you say so," said the mournful Parker. " Come to think of it I do feel a bit low."
"At last!" said the coxswain, "I thought everybody 'ad lost their natural h'appetites."
As they went below
"I knew this would 'appen," he complained. "It's getting wet feet as does it."
It is traditional among submarine officers that the first night in harbour after a patrol should be spent wassailing. However tired a man may be he will not immediately be able to relax. Hence this custom, founded, as ever, on human necessity. Commander Wardle, who knew the form, always kept a little wine-stock up his sleeve for the sailors home from the sea, and only a very little was needed to bowl over men who had not touched more than an occasional noggin since that last memorable gin-party. They appeared, scrubbed pink from the unaccustomed bath, they smoked vigorously and each with a glass in his hand, gave his opposite numbers, from the submarines alongside, some inkling of what had been going on. They made jokes of most of the events and passed over the sadnesses by common consent. They talked before dinner, and at dinner, and would have talked after dinner if old Wardle hadn't sat down at the piano and banged out some bawdy tunes. The mess joined in with a will, and for a brief hour or so, those tired young men forgot the past, and neglected the future. With eyes which threatened to close at any moment they grouped themselves round the piano and got themselves really exhausted, so that they were past being able to go to bed. When the wardroom bar had been locked, and Wardle had closed the piano, they walked about on deck still talking, and, after that, gathered in knots in some cabin or other. It was as if they dreaded the solitude of their bunks. Even so, midnight saw them turned in, to fall into heavy, but short-lived sleep, from which their tortured nerves would bring them to sudden wakefulness, at some chance sound, or even at some more profound silence. It would not be possible for several days for anyone to turn in quietly with a book, and to drop off for eight hours' uninterrupted slumber. Man is an adaptable animal, but even a "submariner" needs time to get used to the cessation of strain.
In the morning they awoke more dead than alive, and the condition of the ship's company was no better. Now, the period of the great let-down had begun, a feeling of intense depression pervaded. The thing that had kept them going was missing and the future loomed ahead bleak but uncertain.
There would, of course, be a period in a rest-camp after the necessary work had been done, and the Gauntlet put into dock, but after that some change was bound to take place, and seamen abominate change.
The report, duly typed and signed in triplicate, had gone into the Staff-Officer and an appointment with Captain S/M fixed after his return aboard and after he had read the report. Now it was necessary to wait for the moment.
"You haven't stated," he said, as he turned over the pages, "what type of aircraft the enemy was employing. That's very useful information, you know."
"Yes, I know," said
"And the ship that you engaged," went on Twiggs, "would she have been the Akurai, converted from the Singapore-Java ferry service?"
" I couldn't say," said
"Pity," said Twiggs. And so on.
It was with a dryness of the mouth and beating of the heart that
"Come in." Captain had the report in front of him. He had made some notes and had written quite a lot on a separate piece of paper.
He got up as
" I expect you want to know what I think of it all," he said. " This is what I propose to say:
" The story of the return of H.M.S. Gauntlet is an epic in the history of the Submarine Service. I consider that Lieutenant Woodstock displayed courage, endurance and leadership of the highest order and his efforts received magnificent support from his Officers and Ship's Company, who never lost heart and responded to every call made upon them."
When he had finished
"And now," said his Captain, "that you know what I shall tell Their Lordships, perhaps you will kindly tell me what on earth persuaded you to do what you did."
And
THE END
3rd January 1945. Andaman Islands, Indian Ocean. One of the most desperate submarine actions of the Far Eastern war was that of the
Her first victim was a medium-size Japanese supply ship. Four days later she sighted another and, instead of wasting a torpedo on her, Swanston decided to come to the surface and use the gun. The merchant ship was armed, carrying a 12-pounder gun, and she replied to the
After she had scored three hits on the Japanese ship, a submarine chaser, summoned by the merchant ship's radio, was sighted approaching at high speed. Swanston decided to take the submarine down. Just as he was giving the order to dive, a lucky shot from the supply ship burst on the Shakespeare's pressure hull and tore a hole about nine inches by four. It was impossible to dive now and there was nothing for it but to remain on the surface and fight it out with the two ships with the gun. Water was entering the boat through the hole in the hull and flooding the engine room.
The 3-inch gun, the
The
At last a shell from the submarine hit the chaser in the engine room and disabled her. She came to a stop and the
For eight hours the attacks from the air continued and it was only the arrival of darkness which brought them to an end and relief to the hard-pressed
For two days she made her way slowly towards her base, running on one engine. On the second night she had the luck to make contact with another British submarine, the Stygian. Swanston asked for a tow but, fearing a Japanese trap, the C.O. of Stygian, who knew Swanston well, wanted to make sure before closing to pass a towing wire. What is the Christian name of your wife? he signalled.

