Q Ships and Their Story 7

Q Ships and Their Story 7

Mention was made just now of the _Werribee_ (alias _Wonganella_, etc.).

On February 3, 1916, this ship, which had been fitted out at Gibraltar,

under the command of Lieut.-Commander B. J. D. Guy, R.N., left Port

Said to cruise on the Malta to Egypt trade route. She was a steamer

of 3,848 tons, and had taken in 2,600 tons of sand as ballast. About

9 o’clock on the morning of February 9, _Werribee_ was steaming along

when she picked up a signal on her wireless to the effect that the S.S.

_Springwell_, of 5,593 tons, was torpedoed and sinking by the head.

The vessel was soon sighted, and the last boats could be seen already

leaving the ship, the position being about sixty miles from Crete. The

weather was perfect, with a flat, calm sea and extreme visibility—an

ideal day, in fact, for good gunnery.

 

But it was to be a most difficult experience, and the incident well

illustrates the problems which had to be dealt with. About 10.15 a.m.,

as no submarine could be seen, _Werribee_ turned towards the four

boats already in the water, and hailed them for information, then

examined the condition of _Springwell_, and presently turned again.

All of a sudden, a great submarine, painted like the Mediterranean

pirate-ships of ancient times, a brownish green, emerged from the sea

about 5,000 yards away on _Werribee’s_ starboard bow, and came close

up to _Springwell_, possibly to prevent _Werribee_ from salving her.

Alarm stations were sounded in the Q-ship, but the submarine’s men

were already running to their two guns, and opened fire. _Werribee_

then decided to haul round and pretend to run away. The third shot

from the enemy hit, and it was at first feared that the explosion had

disabled one gun’s crew, but fortunately the hit was a little further

aft. It was immediately evident to _Werribee’s_ captain that to-day the

enemy was not going to allow him to play the abandon-ship game, but

was intending to sink him straight away. The submarine’s accurate and

rapid fire was clearly aimed at _Werribee’s_ boats, and two of them

were soon riddled. It was for Lieut.-Commander Guy to make up his mind

quickly what tactics now to pursue, and he decided to reveal the ship’s

true character and open fire. This was done, and within ten seconds his

4-inch quick-firer was in action, range 4,000 yards. After six rounds

from the Q-ship the enemy ceased firing, and the eighth seemed to hit

abaft the conning-tower. Then she submerged in a cloud of smoke, about

11.10 a.m., this smoke screen being a favourite ruse for escaping, and

she was never seen again that day. _Werribee_ now turned her attention

to the torpedoed ship, but the latter was too far gone, and foundered

at 5.45 that afternoon. The men in _Springwell’s_ boats were then

picked up, and about 6 o’clock the ship made for Malta. It was again

sheer bad luck; a combination of difficult circumstances, and the

tactics of an astute German captain, had now prevented success coming

to the decoy. There was no question about her disguise, and the captain

of a merchantman who witnessed the fight accurately spoke of _Werribee_

as ‘an old tramp with a few patches of paint, firing at the submarine.’

Before the war we should have thought no ship in His Majesty’s Service

could possibly merit such a description as this, but strange things

were happening on the seas at this time, and it was the highest

compliment so to be described.

 

[Illustration:

 

FIG. 4.—DIAGRAM TO ILLUSTRATE APPROXIMATE MOVEMENTS OF ‘WERRIBEE’ IN

ACTION WITH SUBMARINE ON FEBRUARY 9, 1916.]

 

With the experience which had been gained from all these engagements

in various areas it was possible to form some idea of the requisite

standardized equipment with which Q-ships should be supplied. First of

all, inasmuch as the enemy was being better armed, at least one modern

4-inch gun was necessary, in addition to any 12-pounder. Long-range

action, especially in the Mediterranean, was probable at times, for

the enemy would not always consent to engage close to. Secondly,

it was highly important that the ship should remain afloat, even

though seriously holed. It might happen—and later on it actually did

occur—that the enemy might suppose the ship was just about to founder,

thus making it quite safe to close her in order to read her name. Then

would come the one great chance for the Q-ship to destroy the enemy.

Therefore, to this end, it became certain that these ships should be

given cargoes of barrels, or timber, carefully stowed, so that it would

be no easy task to sink her, and she might perhaps even be salved.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER IV

 

THE STORY OF THE ‘FARNBOROUGH’

 

 

Two days before the end of February, 1916, I happened to be returning

from leave in England to my ship, which was in Queenstown for

boiler-cleaning. In the Holyhead-Kingstown steamer I found myself in

conversation with a junior lieutenant-commander, R.N., who also was

returning to his ship at Queenstown. We talked of many things all the

way down across Ireland, but this quiet, taciturn officer impressed

me less by what he said than by what he left unsaid, and it took me a

long time to guess the name of his ship. I thought I knew most of the

commanding officers of sloops and trawlers and drifters, and so on, at

work off the south and south-west coasts of Ireland, but I had neither

seen this officer nor heard his name before. At the beginning of the

war he was unknown to the public; in fact, not until three weeks after

the end of this February did he win distinction, but to-day his name

is known and respected in every navy of the world, and his career as a

naval officer is different from anything ever recorded in the pages of

history.

 

This was Lieut.-Commander Gordon Campbell, who just before the

war was a lieutenant in command of an old-fashioned destroyer

based on Devonport. On October 21, 1915—the date is particularly

fortunate as having been the 110th anniversary of the Battle of

Trafalgar—Lieutenant Campbell commissioned the tramp steamer

_Lodorer_ at Devonport as a Q-ship, but on passage thence to Queenstown

changed her name to _Farnborough_, as it had become gossip that she had

been armed for special service. Through that trying winter the little

_Farnborough_ endured gale after gale, and her young captain, attired

in the rig of a typical tramp skipper, with his smart crew trained now

to look slovenly yet be mentally alert all the time, never for a moment

wavered in the belief that one day would come his opportunity. He had

organized his ship to a pitch of perfection, and nothing was lacking

except the appearance of a U-boat.

 

On March 1, 1916, the enemy renewed its submarine campaign after lying

dormant since the day when _Baralong_ had sunk her U 41, except for

the Christmas-time temporary outburst. During the first three weeks of

March one, or more, submarine had sunk shipping off the Irish coast

to the extent of three steamers and one sailing craft. On the morning

of March 22, _Farnborough_, who had come from Queenstown, was now

cruising up the west coast of Ireland, the exact position being Lat.

51.54 N., Long. 10.53 W., and the time 6.40 a.m. Steaming along at 8

knots, a submarine awash was suddenly sighted by one of the crew named

Kaye, an A.B. of the Royal Naval Reserve, about five miles away on the

port bow. After a few minutes it dived, and _Farnborough_ coolly took

no notice but kept jogging along the same course. The submarine had

evidently determined to sink the old tramp, for twenty minutes later

she fired a torpedo which passed so close ahead of _Farnborough_ that

bubbles were seen under the forecastle. Still she pretended to take

no notice, and a few minutes later the submarine broke surface about

1,000 yards astern, passing from starboard to port, then, having got on

the Q-ship’s port quarter, fired a shell across the latter’s bows and

partly submerged.

 

_Farnborough_ now stopped her engines, blew off steam, and the panic

party, consisting of stokers and spare men, were ordered to abandon

ship; so away they rowed under Temporary Engineer Sub-Lieutenant J.

S. Smith, R.N.R. The enemy then came closer until he was but 800

yards off. Not a human being was visible aboard the ‘abandoned’

ship, but everyone was lying concealed in expectant readiness, yet

Lieut.-Commander Campbell was quietly watching every move of the enemy.

A few minutes later the latter, intending to sink the deserted ship,

fired a shell, but this fell 50 yards short. Here was _Farnborough’s_

big opportunity that had been awaited and longed for ever since last

Trafalgar Day; now was the time—or never. Thus the collier tramp

declared herself a man-of-war, armed as she was with five 12-pounders,

two 6-pounders, and one Maxim gun. One of the two ships must certainly

go to her doom, and her fate would be settled in a few terrible

moments: there would be no drawn-out engagement, but just a violent

blow, and then finish. Lieut.-Commander Campbell, in his place of

concealment, knew that his men could be trusted to do the right thing,

knew that they were waiting only for the word from him. True, the

guns’ crews were not the kind of expert men you find in battleship or

cruiser. They had joined the Service after the declaration of war,

but had been trained up splendidly by one of the ship’s officers,

Lieutenant W. Beswick, R.N.R. On them much depended. If they fired too

soon, became excited, made a movement, or bungled their work, they

would give the whole show away, and the sinking ship would not be the

submarine.

 

‘Open fire!’ came the order as the White Ensign was hoisted, and then

from the three 12-pounders which could bear came a hail of shells,

whilst Maxim and rifle fire also rained down. The light this morning

was bad, but the shooting from these newly trained men was so good

that the submarine was badly holed by the rapid fire; thus, slowly

the enemy began to sink. Observing this, Campbell then endeavoured

to give her the knock-out blow, so steamed full speed over the spot

and dropped a depth charge. This fairly shook the submarine, who next

appeared about ten yards away in an almost perpendicular position, that

portion of the craft from the bows to the conning-tower being out of

the water. A large rent was discerned in her bow; she was certainly

doomed, and one periscope had been hit. Wasting none of the golden

opportunity, _Farnborough_ reopened fire with her after gun, which put

five rounds into the base of the conning-tower at point-blank range,

so that the German sank for the last time. Again _Farnborough_ steamed

over the spot, and let go two more depth charges, and presently up

came a large quantity of oil and bits of wood which covered the sea

for some distance around. So quickly perished U 68, one of the latest

submarines—a 17-knot boat, armed with one 4·1-inch, one 22-pounder,