Q Ships and Their Story 12

Q Ships and Their Story 12

Such, briefly, was the kind of life that was spent month after month

in these mystery sailing ships. It was an extraordinary mixture of

monotony and the keenest excitement. From one hour to another no

man knew whether he would be alive or dead, and the one essential

thing consisted in absolute preparedness and mental alertness. To

be surprised by the enemy was almost criminal; to escape narrowly

from shipwreck, to remain unmoved under shell-fire, to see the spars

crashing down and your shipmates laid out in great pain, to be hit and

yet refusing to hit back until the right moment, to keep a clear head

and a watchful eye, and all the time handle your ship so that the most

was got out of the wind—all this was a part of your duty as a Q-ship

man. Officers and men believed that if their Q-ship were torpedoed and

any of them were captured, they would be shot as _francs-tireurs_.

German prisoners had not hesitated to make this statement, although I

do not remember an instance where this was carried out.

 

There can be no doubt but that these sailing ships had the most

strenuous and arduous task of all. They suffered by being so useful,

for the Q-steamships, as a rule, did not spend more than eight days

at sea out of twelve, and then they had to come in for coal. The

schooners, as we have seen, could keep the sea for a month, so long

as they had sufficient water and provisions. Several more were added

to the list during 1917 and 1918, and there was never any lack of

volunteers for them. The only difficulty was, in these days of steam,

in choosing those who had had experience in sailing craft. The revival

of the sailing man-of-war was certainly one of the many remarkable

features in the naval campaign.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER VII

 

MORE SAILING SHIPS

 

 

During the ensuing months many demands were made on the sailing-ship

man-of-war. There were pressed into the service such vessels as the

schooner _Result_, the 220-ton lugger _Bayard_, the three-masted

schooner _Prize_, the motor drifter _Betsy Jameson_, the ketch _Sarah

Colebrooke_, the auxiliary schooner _Glen_ (alias _Sidney_), the

brigantine _Dargle_, the _Brown Mouse_ yacht, built on the lines of a

Brixham trawler, and so on. The barquentine _Merops_, otherwise known

as _Maracaio_ and Q 28, began decoy work in February, 1917. She was

fitted out in the Firth of Forth with a couple of 12-pounders and

a 4-inch gun. At the end of May she had a severe engagement with a

submarine, and was considerably damaged aloft. In March the 158-ton

Rye motor ketch _Sarah Colebrooke_ was requisitioned, and sent to

Portsmouth to be fitted out, appearing in May as the _Bolham_. A

month later, 20 miles south of Beachy Head, she fought a submarine,

and had quite an unpleasant time. One of the enemy’s shells exploded

under the port quarter, lifting the ketch’s stern high out of the

water, another exploded under the port leeboard, sending a column of

water on board, and swamping the boat; whilst a third burst on board,

doing considerable damage. She fought the submarine until the latter

disappeared, but the _Bolham’s_ motor was by this time so choked with

splinters and glass that she could not proceed to the spot where the

submarine had last been seen, and of course it so happened that there

was no wind.

 

On June 8 four fishing smacks were captured and sunk off the Start in

full view of the Q-smack _Prevalent_, a Brixham trawler armed with

a 12-pounder. Again it happened to be a calm, so _Prevalent_, being

too far away, was unable to render assistance. After this incident

it was decided to fit an auxiliary motor in the trawler-yacht _Brown

Mouse_, which was doing similar service and was specially suitable

for an engine. On the following day our friend _Helgoland_ had

another encounter, this time off the north coast of Ireland, the

exact spot being 8 miles N. by W. of Tory Island. The fight began at

7.25 a.m., and half an hour later the submarine obtained a direct hit

on the after-gun house of the brigantine, killing one man, wounding

four ratings, and stunning the whole of the after-guns’ crews. But

_Helgoland_, with her charmed life, was not sunk, and she shelled the

submarine so fiercely that the U-boat had to dive and disappear.

 

Even a private yacht was taken up for this work in June. This was the

116-ton topsail schooner _Lisette_, which had formerly belonged to

the Duke of Sutherland. She had been built as far back as 1873 with a

standing bowsprit and jibboom. She was taken from Cowes to Falmouth,

where she was commissioned in August, and armed with three 6-pounders.

But this old yacht was found to leak so much through her seams, and

her construction was so light, that she was never a success, and

was paid off in the following spring. In April, 1917, the auxiliary

schooner _Sidney_ (alias _Glen_) began service as a decoy, having been

requisitioned from her owners and fitted out at Portsmouth. A crew was

selected from the Trawler Reserve, but the guns’ crews were naval.

Armed with a 12-pounder and a 3-pounder, she was fitted with wireless,

and cruised about in the English Channel, her complement consisting

of Lieutenant R. J. Turnbull (R.N.R.), in command, one sub-lieutenant

(R.N.R.), one skipper (R.N.R.), two R.N.R. seamen, one R.N.R. stoker to

run the motor, a signal rating, a wireless operator, four R.N. ratings

for the big gun, and three for the smaller one. During the afternoon of

July 10, 1917, _Glen_ was in combat with a submarine of the UC type,

and had lowered her boat in the customary manner. A German officer from

the conning-tower hailed the boat, and in good English ordered her to

come alongside. This was being obeyed, when something seemed to startle

the officer, who suddenly disappeared into the conning-tower, and the

submarine began to dive. _Glen_ therefore opened fire, and distinctly

saw two holes abaft the conning-tower as the UC-boat rolled in the

swell. She was not seen again, and the Admiralty rewarded _Glen’s_

captain and Sub-Lieutenant K. Morris, R.N.R., with a D.S.C. each.

 

During the month of January, 1917, the naval base at Lowestoft called

for volunteers for work described as ‘dangerous, at times rather

monotonous, and not free from discomfort.’ Everyone, of course, knew

that this meant life in a Q-ship. The vessel selected was the 122-ton

three-masted topsail schooner _Result_, which was owned at Barnstaple,

and had in December come round to Lowestoft from the Bristol Channel.

Here she was fitted out and commissioned at the beginning of February,

being armed with a couple of 12-pounders, but also with torpedo-tubes.

As a sailing craft she was slow, unhandy, and practically unmanageable

in light winds. At the best she would lie no nearer to the wind than

5-1/2 points, and in bad weather she was like a half-tide rock. True,

she had a Bolinders motor, but the best speed they could thus get out

of her was 2-1/2 knots. The result was that her officers had great

difficulty in keeping her out of the East Coast minefields, and did

not always succeed. She took in 100 tons of sand as ballast, and a

rough cabin was fashioned out of the hold for the two officers. In

command was appointed Lieutenant P. J. Mack, R.N. (retired), a young

officer who had seen service at the Dardanelles in the battleship

_Lord Nelson_ and in the historic _River Clyde_, whence he had been

invalided home. As he was not an expert in the art of sailing, there

was selected to accompany him as second in command Lieutenant G.

H. P. Muhlhauser, R.N.R., who was not a professional seaman, but a

keen amateur yachtsman of considerable experience, who had made some

excellent cruises in his small yacht across the North Sea and had

passed the Board of Trade examination as master of his own yacht. The

sailing master who volunteered was an ex-schooner sailor, and her mate

also was an old blue-water seaman. The motor man was a motor mechanic

out of one of the Lowestoft M.L.’s, and there was a trimmer from the

Trawler Reserve. She carried also a wireless operator, a cook, a

chief petty officer, deckhands, and some Royal Naval ratings for the

armament. All the crew, consisting of twenty-two, had seen considerable

service during the war in various craft, and one of the deckhands

was in the drifter _Linsdell_, which was blown up on an East Coast

minefield at the commencement of the war. He had been then picked up

by H.M.S. _Speedy_, who in turn was immediately blown up. This man

survived again, and was now a volunteer in a Q-ship. _Result’s_ crew

were trained to go to their ‘panic stations’ at the given signal, when

the bulwarks were let down and the tarpaulins removed from the guns,

the engineer on those occasions standing at the hatchway amusingly

disguised as a woman passenger, arrayed in a pink blouse and a

tasselled cap which had been kindly provided by a lady ashore.

 

On February 9 _Result_ was all ready as a warship, and motored out

of Lowestoft. She then disguised herself as a neutral, affixed Dutch

colours to her topsides, and proceeded via Yarmouth Roads to the

neighbourhood of the North Hinder, the other side of the North Sea,

where the enemy was very fond of operating. On the fifteenth of the

following month _Result_ was cruising off the south-west end of the

Dogger Bank when she encountered UC 45 in the morning. Lieutenant

Muhlhauser, who was kind enough to give me his account of the incident,

has described it with such vividness that I cannot do better than

present the version in his own words. It should be added that at the

time _Result_ was steering E.S.E., and was now in the position Lat.

54.19 N., Long. 1.45 E. The submarine was sighted 2-1/2 miles astern,

the wind was northerly, force 5 to 6, the sea being 4 to 5 and rapidly

rising. In other words, it was a nasty, cold North Sea day, and one in

which it would have been most unpleasant to have been torpedoed. The

engagement was a difficult one, as the ship had to be manœuvred so that

her guns would bear, and careful seamanship had to be used to prevent

her lying in the trough of the sea. As it was, with bulwarks down, the

decks and gun-wells were awash and frequently full of water, while the

submarine, being only occasionally visible when _Result_ was on the top

of the sea, made a target that was anything but easy.

 

‘By 7 a.m.,’ says Lieutenant Muhlhauser, ‘we had got all the topsails

off her, and at this moment the C.O. appeared on deck and, looking

aft, said, “Why, there is a submarine!” and at the same moment it was

reported from aloft. Word was passed to the watches below to stand by.

In a few minutes came the report of a gun. I do not know where the

shell went. The men ran to their stations, or crawled there according

to what their job was, and the ship was brought on the wind. The

submarine continued firing at the rate of a shell every minute or

thereabouts. The C.O. then ordered the jibs to be run down, and while

this was being done a shell stranded the foretopmast forestay, but

luckily did not burst. It went off whistling. Some of the shells were

fairly well aimed, but the bulk were either 50 or 60 yards short or

over, and at times more than that. As the submarine kept about 2,000

yards off, the C.O. ordered the boat away, with the skipper in charge.

Four hands went with him. He was reluctant to go, I think, though, as

a matter of fact, he ran quite as much risk as did those remaining

on board, if not more, as he would have been in an awkward position