Q Ships and Their Story 28

Q Ships and Their Story 28

Here was the big crisis. Was this the psychological moment? Was this

the right time to make the final gamble? For Captain Campbell the

temptation to open fire was almost unbearable, yet the opportunity was

not yet: he must wait a little longer and live minutes which were like

days. The submarine passed along, then close round _Farnborough’s_

bows, finally breaking surface about 300 yards on the port bow. It was

now five minutes past ten and U 83 motoring along the surface came

past the port side, continuing the scrutiny with less caution born

of satisfaction. The concealed figure on _Farnborough’s_ bridge was

waiting only until all his guns would bear, and as soon as the enemy

thus bore came the great onslaught. It was point-blank range, and the

6-pounder opened the battle, whose first shot hit the conning-tower and

beheaded the German captain.

 

[Illustration: FIG. 13.—‘FARNBOROUGH’S’ FAREWELL.

 

When Q 5 (_Farnborough_) had succeeded in sinking U 83, but was

herself in a sinking condition and apparently doomed, Captain

Campbell despatched the above wireless signal to Vice-Admiral Sir

Lewis Bayly, Commander-in-Chief, Queenstown. It was one of the

most pathetic and dramatic messages which ever flashed out of the

Atlantic, but happily Q 5 was salved.]

 

[Illustration: Q-SHIP “FARNBOROUGH”

 

Brought safely into Berehaven after her famous fight and beached in

Mill Cove, with a heavy list.]

 

[Illustration: S.S. “LODORER”

 

Having served magnificently as a warship under the names of

“Farnborough” and Q-5, and having been salved, this ship is here seen

ready to be returned to her owners.

 

To face p. 196]

 

The surprise had been instant and effective, for the submarine

never recovered from the shock, but remained on the surface whilst

_Farnborough’s_ guns shattered the hull to pieces, the conning-tower

being continually hit, and some of the shells going clean through.

Over forty rounds had thus been fired, to say nothing of the Maxim

gun. U 83 was beaten, finished, smashed: and she finally sank with her

conning-tower open and her crew pouring out. About eight of her crew

were seen in the water, and one of _Farnborough’s_ lifeboats went to

their assistance and was in time to pick up one officer and one man,

and then rowed back to the ship through sea thick with oil and blood

and bubbles. U 83 was satisfactorily disposed of, but what about the

decoy ship herself? It was now time to inspect her, and she was clearly

in a stricken state. The engine-room and boiler-rooms and both Nos.

3 and 4 after holds were all filling rapidly, and she was sinking by

the stern: the end could not be far away. Captain Campbell therefore

sent a wireless signal for assistance and placed nearly all his hands

in the boats, keeping only a few men on board, and destroying all

confidential books and charts. His signal was picked up, and before

noon a British destroyer arrived, and as by this time _Farnborough_ was

in a critical condition most of the crew were transferred to her.[5]

Presently H.M. sloop _Buttercup_ steamed up, and as there seemed a

chance of saving the ship Captain Campbell with twelve officers and men

then went back on board his ship. She seemed now to have settled to a

definite position, and the water, though rising, was gaining but slowly.

 

At length _Buttercup_ got her in tow, but there is nothing so hard

to steer as a sinking ship, and the tow parted. At 5 p.m. the sloop

again got her in tow, but it was a disappointing business with the

water steadily gaining below and the Atlantic swell breaking over the

after deck, and thus the ships went on through the night. At 2 a.m. on

the Sunday _Farnborough_ suddenly took an alarming list and the water

gained rapidly, so the crew had to be ordered into the boats once

again. The sloop _Laburnum_, which had also arrived, was ordered to

close her an hour and a half later, but just as Captain Campbell was

walking aft off went one of the depth charges with such an explosion

that _Buttercup_, thinking it was a submarine’s torpedo, slipped her

tow. After remaining aboard _Laburnum_ until daylight, Captain Campbell

went back to his ship, and then _Laburnum_ got her in tow. A course

had been set for Bantry Bay, and as she approached she was an amazing

spectacle, listing over to the extent of twenty degrees and her stern

nearly 8 feet under water. However, the armed trawler _Luneda_ and

the tug _Flying Sportsman_ had been sent out to her, and by their

assistance she was brought up the fjord and beached at Mill Cove,

Berehaven, by half-past nine that Sunday night. Next morning, and for

long after, this very ordinary-looking steamer lay among a number of

other wounded ships, a strange and impressive sight. _Farnborough_ had

fought both submarine and adversity, and had won both times: still, had

it not been for sound seamanship and her holds being packed with timber

she would never have been saved.

 

There was much work to be done and there were too few salvage experts

and men to cope with the results of the submarines’ attacks: so for

the present _Farnborough_ had to remain idle. Months later she was

repaired temporarily, refloated, taken away from Berehaven and properly

reconditioned, but she had ended her days as a warship. She has now

gone back to the Merchant Service as a cargo carrier, and if you ever

go aboard her you will find a suitable inscription commemorating her

truly wonderful career. As for Commander Campbell, as soon as he

had got his ship safely into Berehaven he was summoned to see his

Commander-in-Chief, Admiral Sir Lewis Bayly. After that he was received

by the King, who conferred on him the highest of all awards for heroes.

No details appeared in the Press; only this announcement from the

_London Gazette_:

 

‘The King has been graciously pleased to approve of the grant of

the Victoria Cross to Commander Gordon Campbell, D.S.O., R.N., in

recognition of his conspicuous gallantry, consummate coolness and skill

in command of one of His Majesty’s ships in action.’

 

[Illustration: Q-SHIP “PARGUST”

 

One of Captain Gordon Campbell’s famous commands.]

 

[Illustration: Q-SHIP “SARAH JONES”

 

This craft did not come into the service until about three months

before the end of the war. Her alias was “Margaret Murray.”

 

To face p. 198]

 

Press and public were greatly puzzled, but secrecy was at this time

essential. ‘This,’ commented a well-known London daily, ‘is probably

the first time since the institution of the V.C. that the bestowal of

this coveted honour has been announced without details of the deed for

which it was awarded.’ The popular press named him ‘the Mystery V.C.,’

and the usual crop of rumours and fantastic stories went round. And

while these were being told the gallant commander was busy fitting

out another Q-ship in which to go forth and make his greatest of all

achievements.

 

This ship was the S.S. _Vittoria_, a collier of 2,817 gross tons. She

was selected whilst lying at Cardiff, whence she was sent to Devonport

to be fitted out as a decoy. Commander Campbell superintended her

alteration, and she began her special service on March 28, 1917. She

was armed with one 4-inch, four 12-pounders, two Maxim guns, and a

couple of 14-inch torpedo tubes. She was a slow creature, 7-1/2 knots

being her speed, but she looked the part she was intended to play. When

Commander Campbell took over the command he was accompanied by his

gallant crew from _Farnborough_. She had been fitted with wireless,

and down in her holds the useful timber had been stowed. On leaving

Devonport she changed her name to _Pargust_, but she was variously

known also as the _Snail_, _Friswell_, and _Pangloss_ at later dates.

 

She again came under the orders of Sir Lewis Bayly at Queenstown, and

then, being in all respects ready to fight another submarine, _Pargust_

went cruising. She had not long to wait, and on June 7 we find her

out in the Atlantic again, not very far from the scene of her last

encounter. The month of April had been a terrible one for British

shipping; no fewer than 155 of our merchant craft had been sunk by

submarines, representing a loss of over half a million of tonnage.

In May these figures had dropped slightly, but in June they were up

again, though in no month of the war did our losses ever reach the

peak of April again. Nor was it only British ships that so suffered,

and I recollect the U.S.S. _Cushing_ two days previously bringing into

Bantry Bay thirteen survivors, including three wounded, from an Italian

barque. At this time, too, the enemy submarines were laying a number of

dangerous minefields off this part of the world, and as one patrolled

along the south-west Irish coast pieces of wreckage, a meat-safe or a

seaman’s chest, would be seen floating from some victimized steamer.

 

On the morning, then, of the seventh, picture _Pargust_ in Lat. 51.50

N., Long. 11.50 W., jogging along at her slow speed. At that time

there was scarcely a steamer that was not armed with some sort of a

gun; therefore, if a Q-ship did not display one aft, she would have

looked suspicious. _Pargust_ kept up appearances by having a dummy gun

mounted aft with a man in uniform standing by. I well remember that

day. There was a nasty sea running, and the atmosphere varied from the

typical Irish damp mist to heavy rain. At 8 a.m. out of this thickness

_Pargust_ descried a torpedo, apparently fired at close range, racing

towards her starboard beam. When about 100 yards off it jumped out of

the water and struck the engine-room near the waterline, making a large

tear in the ship’s side, filling the boiler-room, engine-room, and No.

5 hold, and blowing the starboard lifeboat into the air.

 

[Illustration: Q-SHIP “DUNRAVEN”

 

Showing forward well-deck and bridge.

 

To face p. 200]

 

[Illustration: FIG. 14.—DIAGRAM TO ILLUSTRATE APPROXIMATE MOVEMENTS OF

‘PARGUST’ AND UC 29 ON JUNE 7, 1917.]

 

Captain Campbell then gave the order to abandon ship, and the panic

party went away in three boats, and just as the last boat was

pushing off a periscope was sighted 400 yards on the port side forward

of the beam. It then turned and made for the ship, and submerged when

close to the lifeboat’s stern, then came on the starboard quarter,

turned towards the ship and, when 50 yards away, partially broke

surface, heading on a course parallel, but opposite, to that of