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THE 
 
 MERCHANT SEAMAN 
 IN WAR 
 
 BY 
 
 L. COPE CORNFORD 
 
 WITH A FOREWORD BY 
 
 ADMIEAL SIR JOHN R. JELLICOE, 
 G.C.B., O.M., G.C.V.O. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 
 

 COPYRIGHT, 1918, 
 BY GEOEGE H. DORAN COMPANY 
 
 JUN -6 1918 
 
 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 
 
 ©CI.A497650 \y 
 
TO 
 
 THE MEMORY OF 
 
 BRAVE MEN 
 
In the following narrative, m order to 
 conform to the eocigencies of war, it has 
 been necessary to omit the names of per- 
 sons and to give no more than a general in- 
 dication of localities. These discretions 
 will not, it is hoped, detract from the es- 
 sential value of the record. 
 
 BUT THE COMMON SORT COULD I NOT 
 NUMBER NOR NAME, NAY, NOT IF TEN 
 TONGUES WERE MINE AND TEN MOUTHS, 
 AND A VOICE UNWEARIED, AND MY HEART 
 OF BRONZE WITHIN ME . . ." — Iliad 2. 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 We are passing through a crisis in the His- 
 tory of onr Nation during which every individ- 
 ual is called upon to take some part. On every 
 side there are evidences of devotion to duty, and 
 much that is heroic and splendid is brought into 
 prominence every day. In a conflict of so vast 
 a scale, however, countless acts of gallantry 
 must inevitably pass unrecorded and unknown ; 
 and unless I misjudge my fellow-countrymen, I 
 believe their authors would not have it other- 
 wise. Yet the part in this war which has been 
 played by the officers and men of the British 
 Mercantile Marine is such that some record is 
 imperative. They have founded a new and a 
 glorious tradition in the teeth of new and un- 
 dreamed-of peril, and have borne the full brunt 
 of the enemy's illegal submarine warfare. It 
 is not only in their honour that I feel this book 
 should go before the public, but also as a lesson 
 to succeeding generations who will follow their 
 paths in freedom on the seas. 
 
 J. R. Jellicoe. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I The Mine 17 
 
 II The Submarine 25 
 
 III "War is War" 30 
 
 IV The Last Chance 39 
 
 V Small Game 47 
 
 VI "Where is 'Harpalion'?" .... 52 
 
 VII Netsuke 58 
 
 VIII The Sole Survivor 61 
 
 IX According to Instructions .... 65 
 
 X The "Lusitania" 70 
 
 XI The Castaways 86 
 
 XII Down in Five Minutes 100 
 
 XIII The Raider 108 
 
 XIV A Gallant Warning 130 
 
 XV The Fight of the "Goldmouth" . . 134 
 
 XVI The Worth of a Life 138 
 
 XVII The Engineers of the" Yser" ... 143 
 
 XVIII Slipping Between .146 
 
 XIX Heavy Weather 152 
 
 XX A Sitting Shot 159 
 
 XXI Shipmates with a Pirate . . . . 164 
 
 XXII "A Cheerful Note" 172 
 
 XXIII Vignette 176 
 
 XXIV "Leave Her" 178 
 
 XXV Fuel of Fire 180 
 
 XXVI The Pilot's Story 188 
 
 XXVII Three Prisoners 195 
 
 XXVIII Hide-and-Seek in the Bay .... 201 
 
 vii 
 
viii CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXIX "But Nine of her Crew Alive" . . 210 
 
 XXX Dead Men's Luck 216 
 
 XXXI Firing on the Boats 222 
 
 XXXII The Slavers 225 
 
 XXXIII A Desperate Pass 229 
 
 XXXIV Sticking to It 286 
 
 XXXV A Fishing Trip 239 
 
 XXXVI Twice Running ...... 242 
 
 XXXVII The Fight of the "Aracataca" . . 244 
 
 XXXVIII The Blackguard 249 
 
 XXXIX Settling the Score 253 
 
 XL The Raft 257 
 
 XLI The Flying Death 260 
 
 XLII Brethren of the Shark .... 262 
 
 XLIII The Case of the "Belgian Prince" . 265 
 
 XLIV Expectation and Event .... 270 
 
 XLV Quick Eye and Ready Hand . . 274 
 
 XLVI Panic 275 
 
 XLVII Nine Steadfast Men 278 
 
 XLVIII Carnage 282 
 
 XLIX Unavoidable 285 
 
 L Quite 0. K 288 
 
 LI The Chase by Night 291 
 
 LII The Second Chance 294 
 
 LIII Hard Pressed ....... 297 
 
 LIV Quite Interesting 300 
 
 LV Short and Sharp 302 
 
 LVI Mixing It 304 
 
 LVII Short and Sweet 306 
 
 LVIII The Escape of the "Nitronian" . . 308 
 
 LIX The Danger Zone 310 
 
 LX Receiving Visitors 312 
 
 LXI The Master of the "Nelson" . . 315 
 
 Envoy 318 
 
PEEFATOEY NOTE 
 
 The Way of the Sea 
 
 The complete history of the doings and the endurance 
 of the officers and men of the Mercantile Marine during 
 the war cannot yet be written; but by the courtesy of 
 the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty the present 
 writer has been enabled to select a series of examples 
 from the records of the first three years of war, which 
 may serve to illustrate the whole matter. And the 
 theme of the book is denned in the Foreword with which 
 Admiral Sir John Jellicoe, in the midst of his many and 
 great labours, has been so good as to endow the enter- 
 prise. 
 
 That enterprise is difficult enough; for the chronicler 
 may do his best, and still he must rely upon the help 
 of the reader. For whereas the artist in fiction can 
 cause the persons of his story to express themselves in 
 act and word, and can himself illumine the processes 
 of their mind, according to the effect he desires to 
 achieve, the narrator of history, dealing with contempo- 
 rary persons and events, owns no such pleasant freedom. 
 The chronicler can but evoke persons many of whom 
 he has never seen, and reconstitute events which he 
 has not witnessed, from out the official records, abstract 
 like a proposition in Euclid, or from the accounts of 
 the seamen themselves, who, with some exceptions, 
 frame their style upon the model of the ship's log. And 
 no wonder; for men who have endured a deadly ordeal 
 take small pleasure in reviving the experience. More- 
 over, the circumstances in which the narrator tells his 
 story are far from encouraging. Very often he has lost 
 his ship, not in itself a gratifying event; very often, too, 
 
x PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 he comes on shore after having oscillated, wet and 
 starving, between life and death in an open boat, for 
 days and nights. Sometimes he has been wounded, or 
 he has witnessed the violent death of shipmates. 
 
 Thus the master, or the officer, or the seaman fetches 
 up in the office of the appointed official, who, if sym- 
 pathetic, is still an official, whose sole business it is to 
 reduce a strange and a moving episode to an official 
 form; upon which it is grimly transmuted into sworn 
 evidence of a legal character. 
 
 Nevertheless, the official records own the invaluable 
 quality of being true, or as near to truth as may be 
 attained by man's fallible recording instrument of 
 memory; and truth is of so strange a potency that it 
 can even shine through a printed form of the Board of 
 Trade. 
 
 But again, the truth fetters the historian; for he is 
 bound by the reality of the chain of events; a chain 
 which he dare not break in pursuit of the broader truth 
 expounded by the artist in fiction. Visible nature 
 knows nothing of the conventions of art, which, having 
 impressed them upon the mind of man, nature leaves 
 him to apply at his discretion. So that the historian 
 must take episodes as they occur. It is not for him to 
 clew up ragged ends. 
 
 And yet the historian, being in his humble way an 
 artist too (inasmuch as he is making something out of 
 something else), must still select from the mass of his 
 material that which serves his purpose, to the exclusion 
 of other matters; for, in default of such discrimination, 
 his picture would convey no more than a series of con- 
 fused impressions. And in this book it has been the 
 design of the chronicler to present the character and 
 the virtues of the British seaman, rather than the 
 wickedness of his enemies or the horror of his sufferings. 
 
 For a tale of wrong is of no worth in itself. If in 
 adversity men and women fail of courage and constancy 
 and cheer, then we should lay our hands upon our mouths 
 and keep silence, for there is no more profit in speech. 
 
 To tell, with every device of art, of a state of hopeless 
 resignation or of a hopeless discontent, like the Russian 
 
PREFATORY NOTE xi 
 
 novelists, is merely to accuse the Creator; and (as we 
 in England hold) falsely. 
 
 There must be an inestimable, essential value in 
 courage and constancy and cheer, for as matters are 
 arranged in this world, no pain nor atrocity is regarded 
 as excessive, so it educes these virtues. Indeed we 
 know their worth by that faculty of inward recognition 
 by means of which alone we may properly be said to 
 know anything. 
 
 It is for this reason that we honour the officers and 
 men of the Mercantile Marine, with a sentiment slightly 
 differing in kind, though not in degree, from the senti- 
 ment which we feel for the naval seaman and the 
 professional soldier. For the business of these men is 
 war; and it is to be supposed they made their account 
 with contingencies when they entered the King's service. 
 And although it is not true, what they tell you, that 
 they are paid to face mutilation and death, inasmuch 
 as you can no more pay a man for these things than 
 you can buy a ticket for Heaven, not to mention that 
 the actual sum of money in question is, broadly speaking, 
 a standing disgrace to the nation, it is still the fact that 
 the naval seaman and the soldier fall into another 
 category from the civilian who confronts the enemy. 
 
 The merchant seaman is a peaceful trader. During 
 many generations before the war, the whole duty of 
 defending the Mercantile Marine fell upon the Royal 
 Navy. It was not always so. In the old wars, the 
 merchant seaman and the Navy man were very often 
 the same, serving indiscriminately in either Service. 
 Merchant ships mounted guns, and fought them 
 hardily. It was a part of the instructions given to a 
 master of the Mercantile Marine that he must defend 
 his ship against the King's enemies. Probably the last 
 merchant masters who engaged the enemy were the 
 masters of the ships of the Honourable East India 
 Company. 
 
 The Navy was evolved from the Mercantile Marine. 
 In the beginning, the seamen of the merchant service 
 worked a ship of war, which carried soldiers to do the 
 fighting, and the fighting was an affair of bows and 
 
xii PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 arrows, close quarters and sharp steel, differing only 
 from land warfare in that the men-at-arms were afloat. 
 But in the meantime, the seamen themselves, perpetually 
 engaged in cross-Channel raids and always in distant 
 voyages warring against pirates, learned to fight their 
 ships as well as to sail them, and so acquired the art of 
 tactical manoeuvring under sail, in which the ship 
 herself becomes one with the weapons of war, like a 
 hand wielding a sword. 
 
 Thus by degrees the soldier became eliminated from 
 shipboard, and (to abridge the generations) the seaman 
 became the fighting man. Traces of the old system 
 survived to within living memory in the Royal Navy, 
 in whose ships a master, who was not a fighting man, 
 was responsible for the sailing of the ship. His descen- 
 dant is the navigating officer, but the navigating officer 
 of to-day is a fighting man who specialises in naviga- 
 tion. And the Royal Marines, who are both seamen 
 and soldiers, and who represent military, as distinguished 
 from naval, discipline on board, combine the two 
 systems. 
 
 And while the evolution of the fighting seaman was 
 proceeding in the King's ships, the merchant seaman in 
 the trading ships was losing his military attainments 
 and becoming the civilian proper, as we knew him 
 before the war. 
 
 During the nineteenth century, when England became 
 the first industrial nation, and acquired half the carrying 
 trade of the world, the merchant seaman, in common 
 with his kinsfolk ashore, fell into that commercial 
 slavery which was (and is) the capital sin of England. 
 
 The men who sailed into every quarter of the globe, 
 part-adventurers in ship and cargo, now declined into a 
 state of hopeless dependence, ill-paid, ill-fed, ill-equipped, 
 sent to sea in ill-found ships, sweated by the shipowners 
 when trade was brisk, and left to rot on the beach when 
 the insane commercial competition brought the inevitable 
 penalty of depression. 
 
 Save when the indignant Plimsoll cursed the opulent 
 gentlemen of a lethargic House of Commons into a 
 spasmodic effort, the country did nothing for the men 
 
PREFATORY NOTE xiii 
 
 who brought its daily food and its monstrous riches. 
 The country knew nothing of the merchant seaman. 
 People owned a vague idea that the sailor (as they called 
 him) was a jovial, reckless dog, fond of his lass and his 
 glass, usually drunk when on shore, and in that glorious 
 condition wasting his money in riotous living, and gene- 
 rally getting knocked on the head and robbed in the 
 process. But it was nobody's business but his own. 
 Like some millions of his fellow-creatures on shore, he 
 was the chattel of limited liability companies, whose 
 shareholders took no sort of interest in anything what- 
 soever except dividends. 
 
 Consider now this silent and strange figure of the 
 merchant seaman, pervading the centuries unnoticed. 
 Shrewd of eye, hard-featured, tough as oak, rough- 
 tongue d, humorous, kindly, rising up and going to rest 
 with danger as his constant copesmate, as careless of 
 life as indifferent to death, he holds his existence solely 
 by virtue of his precarious mastery of the implacable 
 sea. That perpetual conflict sets him in a class apart 
 from landward folk, of whom he conceives a certain 
 contempt. They dwell at home at ease; they have 
 every night in; and they ask him if he has ever beheld 
 that glorious work of God, a sunrise at sea. They will 
 also cheat him of his wages, sell him drugged liquor, 
 steal the very clothes from off his body, and scorn him 
 at the end of it. 
 
 The seaman knows he is never safe except at sea, 
 where the rules of the brotherhood of the sea encompass 
 him. Of that simple and generous code the people on 
 shore are wholly ignorant. That all seamen are bound 
 to help one another in distress is the first and greatest 
 rule, and its other name is charity. With hazard of 
 life and gear, with money or with goods, with food and 
 drink, it is all one. When a man dies on shore, his 
 neighbours gather together to relish the pageant of the 
 funeral. When a man is killed at sea, his mates remark 
 that poor old Bill is gone, and they hold an auction of 
 his possessions at the foot of the foremast, and each 
 man bids as high as he can, and then they send all the 
 money to the widow. 
 
xiv PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 If you met an officer of the Mercantile Marine in the 
 street clad in his shore-going clothes, you would hardly 
 guess that this grave gentleman with the quiet voice and 
 the look, at once brooding and vigilant, as of one beset 
 with multitudinous cares, and meeting them carefully, 
 is a seaman — so widely does popular conception differ 
 from reality. But in truth, from the master of a tug 
 to the master of a liner, from the officer of an ocean- 
 going steamship to the mate of a collier, runs a scale of 
 infinite gradations. What is common to all is the 
 indefinable spirit of their calling, the spirit which you 
 shall see in action in the pages of this book. 
 
 One of its manifestations is the economy of the ship. 
 A ship may be a noble piece of design, or it may be as 
 destitute of imagination as a warehouse. In other words, 
 the ship may be built by men, or it may be constructed 
 by the semblances of men who have sold their immortal 
 part for money. But, beautiful or ugly, the ship is 
 nothing but a vehicle. It is a far finer vehicle than a 
 railway locomotive, partly by reason of its immemorial 
 and romantic history, and partly by reason of the sen- 
 tience which mysteriously belongs to a ship, and which 
 makes her, to the seaman, a person; but a vehicle she 
 remains. 
 
 But inasmuch as she carries a community set apart 
 and exiled from its fellows, with a common task to 
 achieve, the community is organised into a society in 
 which every man has his allotted business, and in which 
 all are subject to the supreme command of the master. 
 The reason why the society is thus organised is simple; 
 it is because the institution of discipline is the essential 
 condition of the accomplishment of a common enter- 
 prise. Far back along the centuries, when men believed 
 that their chief enterprise was, not to make money 
 but, to get to Heaven, the economy of the ship was the 
 economy of Holy Church. The master was called the 
 Rector; and riding high on the rail of the poop was a 
 consecrated shrine, to which every man did obeisance 
 when he stepped on deck. The custom survives in the 
 Royal Navy, in which the Service man still salutes the 
 quarterdeck when he comes on board. (The civilian, 
 
PREFATORY NOTE xv 
 
 unconscious of high matters and with no desire to offend, 
 will drop matches on the quarterdeck and wear his hat 
 between decks.) 
 
 The principle of the economy of a ship, whether she 
 be a King's ship or a trader, is the principle of service, 
 which is the principle of chivalry. It is written that a 
 man cannot serve God and mammon. But he must 
 serve one or the other. He was bound to service when 
 he was born; the only liberty he owns is the liberty 
 to choose his master; and, by a divine paradox, the one 
 choice will give him liberty and the other slavery. 
 And the man who serves on board ship perforce serves 
 another than himself, and so far he has found freedom. 
 
 The discipline in a merchant ship is in part a matter 
 of law, and in greater part an affair of tradition and of 
 the personality of the master. The instinct of service 
 is a part of the nature of the English. It is usually 
 described as the love of freedom, which, in fact, it is. 
 Thus the instinct towards servitude, or submission to 
 tyranny, is the exact opposite to the instinct of service. 
 Oppress the Englishman, and sooner or later he will 
 rebel. Ask him to serve you, deal with him honestly, 
 and he will be staunch through thick and thin. 
 
 And at this point arises the question of material 
 recompense. During the war, the pay of the merchant 
 seaman (not of the officers) has been doubled. That 
 the additional wage made an inducement to encounter 
 the hazards of war is, of course, the fact. But when 
 the fighting begins, or the hidden blow is struck, it is 
 not money that holds the seaman to his duty. Moreover, 
 before the war, the seaman's pay was both inadequate 
 and inequitable, nor was there any provision for securing 
 him stability of employment, nor did he earn a pension. 
 
 When war was declared, it was the duty of the mer- 
 chant seaman to carry supplies and munitions across 
 the seas. Upon his faithful discharge of that duty all 
 depended. 
 
 At first, the dangers menacing the Mercantile Marine 
 were mines and hostile cruisers. It does not seem to 
 have occurred to the authorities that the er.i'jaj would 
 attack unarmed merchant vessels with submarines. 
 
xvi PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 And in due time the submarine took the world by sur- 
 prise. Thenceforth the merchant seaman must sail at 
 the hazard of a deadly peril which might come unawares, 
 and against which, in any case, he was at first utterly 
 defenceless. He must navigate unlighted channels amid 
 unlighted ships. He must steer new courses and learn 
 the art of war. He never failed nor flinched. And you 
 shall mark in these chronicles the merchant seaman, 
 beginning unarmed and helpless, stumbling over mines, 
 attacked by raiding cruisers, torpedoed or shot to pieces 
 by submarines, sent adrift to go mad or drown in open 
 boats, still sturdily going undaunted about his business, 
 and gradually becoming a wary and valorous fighting 
 man. He is the same merchant seaman who, but three 
 years since, was the drudge of commerce, and who now 
 in his own right is entered on the chivalry of the sea. 
 
The Mine 
 
 The episode to be related occurred during 
 the first weeks of the war, ere the mercantile 
 marine understood what was happening, or 
 perceived what might happen. To-day a 
 mercantile marine master, attired in the uni- 
 form of his Majesty's Service, fetching up in 
 port, will casually remark to a brother mariner, 
 also disguised in uniform, that a day or two 
 since he saw a vessel torpedoed a couple of 
 cables' length ahead of him. "Shut up like a 
 box, she did, and sank at once. And if the 
 submarine hadn't been so greedy she could have 
 had me instead." Whxch brief tale of the sea 
 his friend receives in a genial silence, presently 
 broken by a request not to forget to let him have 
 that six fathoms of eight-inch hawser, what- 
 ever he does. To-day the merchant skipper, 
 navigating at night in home waters, finds his 
 way, as he says, by "putting his hand out to 
 feel." But what the seaman calls the Eeligion 
 of the Sea stands now as before the war. It 
 consists in the simple faith that what will be, 
 will be; with the corollary that land and sea 
 
 17 
 
18 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 are equally dangerous and equally safe. A new 
 illustration of an old story occurred the other 
 day when a seaman, having been torpedoed out 
 of his ship, came to a sailors ' home, went out for 
 a stroll, was knocked down by an omnibus, and 
 indignantly called his Maker to witness that he 
 had always said the sea was safer than the land. 
 
 So, upon a day in the first weeks of the war, 
 the steamship Runo was placidly gliding north- 
 wards upon a gently heaving sea. Early that 
 morning the Runo had left port. The master 
 was on the bridge, and there he remained, while 
 the officers stood their watches and relieved one 
 another according to routine. The master had 
 been busy until late into the preceding night, 
 embarking the passengers; and about two 
 o'clock in the afternoon, having been on the 
 bridge for eight or nine hours, he went to the 
 chart-room on the bridge deck and lay down on 
 the sofa to get a spell of sleep. 
 
 At four o'clock the officer on watch was re- 
 lieved by the chief officer. As he stood on the 
 bridge he saw away on his left hand the haze 
 shrouding the highlands of the coast, and two 
 or three trawlers, printed dark upon the water 
 in the clear light of the autumn afternoon, 
 and beyond, the gently heaving sea stretching 
 vacant to the horizon. The passengers were 
 huddled in silent groups along the promenade 
 deck, on either side of the house, or lay sick and 
 silent below. It occurred to the second officer, 
 who had finished his watch, to go down to the 
 forehold to look at his bicycle. Two able 
 seamen, seated on a skylight, were working the 
 
THE MINE 19 
 
 pump fixed on the after end of the engine-room 
 casing, pumping water into the galley. In the 
 chart-room, within call of the bridge, and 
 so instantly available, the captain lay asleep. 
 There was no sound save the steady beat of 
 the engines. 
 
 As a measure of precaution, additional boats 
 had been provided, and there was enough boat 
 accommodation for all on board. Four boats, 
 two on either side, were swung outboard from 
 the davits, and the rest of the boats were on 
 chocks on deck. The value of boats in saving 
 life depends first of all upon the ability of 
 their crews in getting them away from the ship. 
 If the crews are practised, and the passengers 
 are under control, in smooth weather the opera- 
 tion should be successfully accomplished. 
 
 The chief officer on watch on the bridge had 
 noted that the clock told half -past four, when 
 he was shot into the air, fell heavily to the deck, 
 where he lay unconscious, a grating on the top 
 of him. The man at the wheel saw a huge 
 column of water rise alongside, as he was flung 
 down and sandwiched between two gratings. At 
 the same moment the two compasses and every 
 other fitting on the bridge were broken to pieces. 
 The second officer, down in the forehold attend- 
 ing to his bicycle, was conscious of a tremendous 
 explosion, which dashed him upwards against 
 the ceiling, whence he dropped stunned. The 
 able seamen sitting on the skylight, who were 
 working the pump, were flung upon the deck. 
 Picking themselves up, they climbed instantly 
 upon the top of the engine-room casing, port 
 
20 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 side, where was the boat to which they were al- 
 lotted. It was already filled with frightened 
 passengers. The seamen helped to launch the 
 boat, then went to help the passengers embark 
 in the boat on the starboard side. The third 
 engineer, who had come on deck, was pitched 
 into the water, where he remained until he was 
 rescued by one of the boats. 
 
 In the meantime the captain in the chart- 
 house was hurled up from the sofa, struck the 
 ceiling, and rebounded down upon the table 
 amid a cascade of splintered glass, and lay there 
 bleeding and unconscious. But in three or four 
 minutes he came to himself, and, battered as he 
 was, with the seaman's unfailing instinct to get 
 on deck in a crisis, he staggered to the bridge. 
 Blood was running down his face and dripped 
 from a gash in his arm. By this time the chief 
 officer and the steersman were on their feet 
 again; the ship was still forging on, but at the 
 same time settling ominously down by the 
 head; and in the water were boats and swim- 
 mers, from whom the ship was receding. The 
 master, seeing the people in the water, put the 
 helm over hard a-starboard to turn the ship in 
 their direction. He issued orders to stop the 
 engines, to hoist the distress signal, and blew 
 the siren to call the trawlers near by. He sent 
 the chief officer to muster the passengers and 
 to launch the remaining boats. 
 
 About ten minutes had elapsed since the ex- 
 plosion, and in those minutes a great deal had 
 happened. Below in the engine-room the en- 
 gine-room staff, at the impact of the explosion, 
 
THE MINE 21 
 
 felt a sudden heel to port, and a sensation as 
 if the ship had ran against a stone wall. The 
 second engineer said that "it was just like going 
 into a stone wall. It was a sudden thud and a 
 stop." For a few minutes no order came from 
 the bridge, so that the chief engineer did not 
 touch the engines, which continued working at 
 full speed. Thus, while the captain, the chief 
 officer and the man at the wheel, and the second 
 officer in the forehold were all lying prostrate, 
 the engine-room staff remained below, in sus- 
 pense, awaiting orders. The brief disability of 
 the ship's officers had no other effect upon the 
 engine-room; but it disastrously affected the 
 passengers. The whole mass of them, filled 
 with panic terror, scrambled for the boats. By 
 the time the master and the chief officer had 
 regained their senses it was too late. 
 
 The boat resting on chocks on the engine- 
 room casing, port side, to which the two seamen 
 had sprung instantly after the explosion, was 
 indeed orderly rilled with the stewardess and 
 women passengers, twenty-six in all, and the 
 chief officer having by that time come to her, she 
 was swung out, lowered and cast off in a sea- 
 manlike manner. But in the meantime the alley- 
 ways were choked with struggling passengers, 
 through whom the seamen could not force their 
 way to the boats. Such was the general posi- 
 tion. The details are obscure, but it seems evi- 
 dent that the foremost boat on the starboard 
 side, which had been filled with water by the 
 explosion, was somehow emptied, hoisted from 
 its chocks and lowered into the water by the 
 
22 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 stewards and the passengers. Why she went 
 away with no more than two passengers in her, 
 and why neither passengers nor boat were ever 
 seen again, are not known. 
 
 The stewards and passengers between them 
 lowered fonr more boats. Of one they cnt the 
 falls, so that the boat dropped, hanging along- 
 side by the painter, and filled with water. The 
 people were somehow hauled on board again. 
 Of another they cnt the foremost falls, bnt 
 nevertheless the boat was safely got away, with 
 one able seaman and thirty to thirty-five pas- 
 sengers on board, none of whom was ever seen 
 again. Another boat, carrying twenty or thirty 
 people, capsized. Some of these passengers 
 kept themselves afloat, and these were the peo- 
 ple whom the master saw when he came on 
 the bridge and pnt the helm over in order to 
 save them. Some were picked up. The last of 
 the four boats to be lowered by the confused 
 mob of stewards and passengers went away full 
 of people, who were never seen again. 
 
 By this time the engines had been stopped, 
 and the ship was gradually settling down, the 
 main hold being half full of water. The master 
 perceiving that, in answer to his signal, two 
 steam trawlers were coming up, ordered that no 
 more boats were to be lowered, and shouted 
 through a megaphone to the trawlers to pick up 
 the people in the water. The trawlers, having 
 saved a number of the swimmers, drew along- 
 side, one on either side the quarter. It was then 
 about twenty-five minutes from the time of the 
 explosion. The whole of the rest of the people 
 
THE MINE 23 
 
 on board the Runo were then transhipped to the 
 trawlers. 
 
 The master was the last to leave his ship. 
 She was obviously sinking, but the master de- 
 termined to beach her if possible, and requested 
 the skipper of the trawler to take her in tow. 
 Two men of the Runo and two of the trawler's 
 crew went in the trawler's boat to the Runo 
 with a hawser, made it fast, and remained on 
 board the Runo. For all they knew she might 
 have gone down under their feet. And as soon 
 as the hawser tightened a noise like thunder 
 echoed in the bowels of the Runo. The bulk- 
 head of the main hold had collapsed under the 
 weight of water, and the Runo began to dip her 
 nose deeper. The master of the Runo instantly 
 signalled from the trawler ordering the four 
 men to return to her. These resolute seamen 
 promptly cut the hawser, tumbled into their 
 boat, cast off and pulled away. Scarce were 
 they clear of the doomed ship when she plunged 
 by the head, and the sea closed over her. It 
 was about an hour and forty minutes since she 
 had struck the mine. 
 
 The next day, Sunday, the skipper of a 
 trawler cruising in that place perceived a wide 
 litter of floating wreckage and boats floating 
 bottom upwards. He counted eight boats, all 
 of which were capsized except one, which was 
 full of water. The skipper picked up a 
 meat chest, a chest full of books, and a cork 
 jacket. 
 
 What became of the passengers who went 
 away in the boats? Those who were in the 
 
m THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 first boat, launched under the orders of the 
 chief officer, were picked up by a trawler. The 
 boat which had a couple of passengers on board 
 simply vanished. Two boats which went away 
 full of people were afterwards recovered empty. 
 What had become of the passengers? The sea 
 was calm, and the boats were within a few 
 miles of the land when they left the ship. The 
 people in them had nothing to do but to sit 
 still, and they would have been rescued. Yet 
 they simply disappeared. 
 
n 
 
 The Submarine 
 
 In the grey noon of an October day the 
 Glitra, an old, small iron steamship, was ap- 
 proaching the harbour of a neutral country, 
 whose tall headlands loomed ahead. So far the 
 master, following the directions of the Ad- 
 miralty, had brought his ship scathless. Within 
 an hour or two she would be safe. 
 
 The master and the chief officer were on the 
 bridge, and an able seaman was posted as look- 
 out on the forecastle head. Up went the flag 
 calling for a pilot, and presently the master des- 
 cried the pilot's motor-boat swiftly approach- 
 ing from the shore. At the same moment he 
 perceived a long and low object moving towards 
 him on the water some three miles to seaward. 
 The apparition was like a blow over the heart 
 to the men of the Glitra. But it might be a 
 British submarine. The master, staring through 
 his glass at the flag flying from the short mast 
 of the nearing vessel, made out the black Ger- 
 man eagles. The pilot saw them too, for he 
 went about, heading back to harbour ; and with 
 
 25 
 
26 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 him the men of the Glitra beheld their last hope 
 for the ship implacably receding, and confronted 
 the inevitable with the dogged composure of 
 the British seaman. 
 
 The master altered course, steering away 
 from the submarine, which, fetching a wide 
 circle, drew towards the Glitra. The subma- 
 rine had the speed of the old cargo-boat, and as 
 she came closer the master heard the metallic 
 ring of tube-firing, and a flight of small shot 
 sang about his ears. Thereupon he stopped his 
 engines, and the Glitra lay still, while the sub- 
 marine drew nearer and stopped within a ship 's 
 length of the steamer. There she lay, the water 
 lipping on the rounded hull, from which the 
 conning-tower rose amidships. The command- 
 ing officer stood by the rail of the conning-tower, 
 and men were descending thence to the narrow 
 platforms fore and aft, and busying themselves 
 on the deck. Then the submarine hoisted the 
 code signal, meaning ' i drag-rope " ; and the 
 men on board the Glitra saw the Germans get a 
 collapsible boat into the water. Two men 
 pulled, and a third sat in the stern-sheets. 
 
 The men of the Glitra awaited events in 
 silence ; and the next thing of which the master 
 was acutely conscious was the cold muzzle of 
 a revolver pressing into the flesh of his neck, 
 while the excited German officer wielding that 
 weapon ordered him in throaty but intelligible 
 English to leave his bridge and to get his boats 
 away in ten minutes, as his ship was to be 
 torpedoed. 
 
 The master, going down on deck with a 
 
THE SUBMARINE 27 
 
 disagreeable sensation as of a pistol aimed at 
 his back, mustered the silent crew, who assem- 
 bled under the hard eyes of three Germans cov- 
 ering them with revolvers, and who at the same 
 time beheld two guns on the submarine, one for- 
 ward and the other aft of the conning-tower, 
 trained expectantly upon the ship. Then the 
 master, looking directly at the small black circle 
 of the revolver's muzzle, was ordered to haul 
 down his flag. Still followed by the revolver, 
 he went to the halliards and dropped the flag 
 to the rail, over which it hung drooping and dis- 
 consolate. And then he was ordered to fetch 
 the ship's papers, which are the most sacred 
 trust of the master of a vessel. Down below he 
 went, with the pistol at his back ; and no sooner 
 had he vanished down the companion-way than 
 the German officer seized the flag, tore it across 
 and across, flung the pieces on the deck, and 
 stamped upon them like a maniac. The master 
 came on deck to witness the remarkable spec- 
 tacle of an officer of H.I.M. Imperial Navy wip- 
 ing his sea-boots on the Eed Ensign. 
 
 The German, having thus gratified his emo- 
 tions, again turned his revolver on the master, 
 ordered him to hand over the ship 's papers, for- 
 bade him to fetch his coat, and refused to allow 
 the crew, who were sullenly launching the three 
 boats, to get any additional clothing. Then the 
 German officer ordered the three boats to pull 
 to the submarine and to make fast to her. 
 
 The men of the Glitra, fetching up alongside 
 the submarine, gazed curiously upon the dull, 
 rigid faces of the German bluejackets, and 
 
28 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 marked the strange and ugly forms of the 
 Tinfish, as the merchant service calls it. So 
 soon as the boats were made fast, the subma- 
 rine, with a grinding noise like the working of 
 millstones, drew off about a ship's length, tow- 
 ing the boats, and stopped again. During this 
 time the master, scanning his lost ship intently, 
 saw the three Germans left on board her hurry- 
 ing to and fro, taking his charts and compasses 
 and lowering them into their own boat. Then 
 one of them, supposed by the master to be an 
 engineer, went below. Presumably the German 
 turned on the sea-cocks, for the master pres- 
 ently observed the Glitra to be settling down 
 by the stern. 
 
 It was then about a quarter of an hour since 
 the crew had quitted the Glitra; and the com- 
 manding officer of the submarine ordered themas- 
 ter to cast ofT and to proceed towards the land. 
 
 As the boats drew away from his ship, lying 
 deserted and sinking lower into the water, the 
 master, watching, perceived the dim shape of 
 the submarine still circling about her, like a 
 sea-beast of prey. Gradually the boats drew 
 out of sight of the last scene. 
 
 The men had been rowing for about an hour 
 when the pilot-boat came up and took them in 
 tow. Then the men of the Glitra were taken on 
 board a neutral ship of war. The master of 
 the Glitra and the crew, thus stranded in a for- 
 eign man-of-war with nothing in the world ex- 
 cept what they had on, heard the growl of guns 
 rolling from seaward, where the submarine was 
 working her will on the desolate ship. 
 
THE SUBMARINE 29 
 
 The capture and destruction of the Glitra 
 marks an early stage in the evolution of the 
 German pirate. The destruction of the ship in 
 default of having brought her before the Prize 
 Court of the enemy, was a violation of inter- 
 national law, which might, however, be defended 
 on the plea of necessity. The refusal to permit 
 officers and men to take with them their effects 
 was an infraction both of universal rule and of 
 the German Naval Prize Begulations of 1914. 
 On the other hand, it may be contended that 
 the enemy did in fact place the crew of the 
 captured ship in safety. 
 
 The British were threatened with revolvers, 
 and guns were trained upon them, but these 
 weapons were not fired, and no one was injured. 
 In his later stages the German pirate observed 
 no such restraint. As for the insult to the 
 British flag, while it may have been the result 
 of an unpleasant personal idiosyncrasy, it is 
 also significant of a mental condition prevailing 
 among German officers, of which examples sub- 
 sequently multiplied. 
 
Ill 
 
 "War is War" 
 
 On November 23rd, 1914, the little cargo- 
 boat Malachite, four days out from Liverpool, 
 was drawing near to the French coast. It was 
 a quarter to four in the afternoon; the ship, 
 rolling gently to the easterly swell, was within 
 an hour or so of Havre, which lay out of sight 
 beyond Cape La Heve, darkening in the haze 
 some four miles distant on the port bow. The 
 master and the mate, who were on the bridge, 
 descried the indistinct form of a long and low 
 vessel lying about two miles away on the star- 
 board beam. As they looked, the mist clinging 
 about the unknown craft lit with a flash, fol- 
 lowed by the report of a gun, and a shot sang 
 across the bows of the Malachite. Then the two 
 officers on the bridge recognised the vessel to be 
 a German submarine. The first that the men 
 below in the engine-room knew was the clang 
 of the bridge-telegraph and the swinging over 
 of the needle on the dial to ' l stop. ' ' They eased 
 down the engines, and as the ship lost way, they 
 heard two long blasts of the steam whistle 
 
 30 
 
"WAR IS WAR" 31 
 
 sounded on the bridge. Then silence, the ship 
 rolling where she lay. 
 
 The master and the mate, standing against 
 the bridge-rail, contemplated the approach of 
 the submarine. The German officer and the 
 quartermaster were on the conning-tower. 
 Abaft of the conning-tower, on deck, a seaman 
 stood beside a small gun, which was fitted with 
 a shoulder-piece. The submarine drew close 
 alongside the Malachite, and her officers looked 
 down into the eyes of the German naval officer, 
 and the German naval officer looked up at the 
 two British seamen. These knew well enough 
 what to expect, and merely wondered in what 
 manner it would arrive. 
 
 The German officer was polite but business- 
 like. Where have you come from? Where 
 are you going? What is your cargo? These 
 were his questions, framed in that school Eng- 
 lish which for many years every German mid- 
 shipman has learned as part of his pass exam- 
 ination, in order that he may communicate with 
 the conquered race of Britain. 
 
 The master gave the required information. 
 He could do nothing else. Then the submarine 
 officer gave an order, and a sailor ran along the 
 deck of the submarine and hoisted the German 
 ensign on the short mast mounted aft. All be- 
 ing now in order, the submarine officer requested 
 the master of the Malachite to prepare to leave 
 his ship at the expiration of ten minutes, and 
 to bring with him the ship 's papers. 
 
 The master, mustering the crew, got away 
 the two lifeboats, and fetched his papers. The 
 
32 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 two boats came alongside the submarine; and 
 now the submarine officer gazed down at the 
 stolid British seamen, who were utterly in his 
 power, and they stared curiously up at the trim 
 and easy German. 
 
 The master, handing over his papers, since 
 there was no help for it, asked that the ship's 
 log and the articles might be given back to him. 
 The submarine officer declined to grant the re- 
 quest. Then he added, ' ' I am sorry I cannot ac- 
 commodate you and your crew, but war is war. ' ' 
 
 Then he told the master to stand clear, and 
 as the two boats hauled off, the submarine got 
 under way. The men in the boats, resting on 
 their oars, saw the submarine open fire on the 
 Malachite at a range of about 200 yards, saw 
 the shot strike the ship at the base of the funnel, 
 and a hissing cloud of steam and smoke en- 
 shroud her, saw shot after shot pierce the hull, 
 and the ship beginning to settle down by the 
 head. 
 
 Darkness was gathering, and the fog was 
 closing in, when the master ordered the men to 
 give way, and steered towards Havre. As they 
 pulled through the gloom, the men in the boats 
 heard the intermittent bark of the gun sounding 
 from seaward. After about three-quarters of 
 an hour there was silence. 
 
 They came into Havre Harbour at half-past 
 eight, after a pull of some three and a half 
 hours. Subsequently they learned that the sub- 
 marine, having fired the ship, left her, and that 
 she remained afloat all that night and the next day. 
 
 The taking of the Malachite is typical of the 
 
"WAR IS WAR" S3 
 
 end of the first phase of submarine warfare ; the 
 phase in which the German officer, individual 
 acts of brutality apart, at least recognised the 
 existence of the law of nations, used a certain 
 consideration for the crews of captured vessels, 
 and was occasionally even courteous. On the 
 other side, merchant ships were still totally de- 
 fenceless ; and sometimes, as in the case of the 
 Malachite, were taken within sight of land and 
 close to a port of arrival. 
 
 In the next phase of submarine warfare, war 
 was still war, but it was also murder. At the 
 beginning of February, 1915, Germany issued 
 the following official announcement: 
 
 (1) "The waters round Great Britain and 
 Ireland, including the English Channel, are 
 hereby declared a military area. From Febru- 
 ary 18th every hostile merchant ship in these 
 waters will be destroyed, even if it is not always 
 possible to avoid thereby the dangers which 
 threaten the crews and passengers. 
 
 (2) "Neutral ships will also incur danger in 
 the military area, because, in view of the misuse 
 of flags ordered by the British Government on 
 January 31st and the accidents of naval war- 
 fare, it cannot always be avoided that attacks 
 may involve neutral ships. 
 
 (3) "Traffic northwards around the Shetland 
 Islands, in the east part of the North Sea, and 
 a strip of at least thirty sea miles in breadth 
 along the coast of Holland is not endangered. 
 
 "(Sgd.) VonPohl, 
 "Chief of Admiralty Staff." 
 
34. THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 To which laborious threat the British For- 
 eign Office, on February 7th, 1915, replied by- 
 stating that the use of a neutral flag by a bellig- 
 erent, within prescribed limitations, was per- 
 fectly legitimate, adding the extremely perti- 
 nent declaration that : 
 
 " To destroy ship, non-combatant crew and 
 cargo, as Germany has announced her intention 
 of doing, is nothing less than an act of piracy 
 on the high seas." 
 
 The Foreign Office does not specifically brand 
 the Imperial German Government as a pirate; 
 it declares that the doings of the public ships 
 of the Imperial German Government are acts 
 of piracy. It is hard to trace the distinction, 
 if indeed there be a distinction. The President 
 of the United States, in his message to Congress 
 of April 2nd, 1917, does in effect state that the 
 Imperial German Government is hostis humani 
 generis y which is the definition of a pirate. His 
 Majesty's Attorney-General, Sir Frederick 
 Smith, K.C., in his book "The Destruction of 
 Merchant Ships under International Law" (J. 
 M. Dent & Sons, London, 1917), states his con- 
 clusion as follows: "The very use of subma- 
 rines against merchantmen — even against ene- 
 my merchantmen, as has been shown above — 
 is unlawful. All — belligerents and neutrals 
 alike — who have suffered loss in lives or prop- 
 erty as a result of this unlawful conduct are 
 entitled to full reparation." 
 
 And what about the merchant seamen, shat- 
 tered, mutilated and drowned in pursuance of 
 their lawful occasions? This at least; that, 
 
"WAR IS WAR" 35 
 
 while they endured and perished, a gigantic 
 storm of wrath was formidably gathering below 
 their horizon, the wrath of all other sea nations, 
 brooding upon Germany and Austria, and 
 charged with a vengeance insatiable as the sea. 
 
 The Germans, inherently treacherous, have 
 no notion of keeping their word, and they be- 
 gan, as usual, before the scheduled time. While 
 Admiral von Pohl, majestically ensconced in 
 the Reichsmarineamt in Berlin, was methodi- 
 cally inditing his lying accusation of the misuse 
 of the neutral flag by the British, a German 
 submarine (it was reported) was cruising about 
 the English Channel flying the French flag. 
 That was before January 30th, 1915 ; the Ger- 
 man proclamation of "military" murder 
 "area" was not issued until a day or two after- 
 wards, and therein it was stated that the new 
 arrangements were to begin on February 18th. 
 The ToJcomaru was sunk on January 30th. 
 
 She was a steamship of nearly 4,000 tons reg- 
 ister, had left Wellington, New Zealand, three 
 weeks previously, on January 22nd, and had 
 touched at Teneriffe, which port was swarming 
 with Germans. The ToJcomaru lay at Teneriffe 
 for eleven hours, during which time many shore 
 boats came alongside. The visitors could easily 
 have ascertained her destination. Whether or 
 not that circumstance was related to her de- 
 structionisnotknown. Teneriffe belongs to Spain. 
 
 Like the Malachite, the Tokomaru was bound 
 for Havre. Off Ushant she spoke a French 
 man-of-war, giving her name and destination. 
 
36 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 At about nine o 'clock on the morning of Satur- 
 day, January 30th, 1915, she was within seven 
 miles of the Havre lightship. Somewhere on 
 the seafloor beneath the Tokomaru's keel lay 
 the bones of the Malachite. It was a fine, clear 
 morning, the land mistily sparkling beyond the 
 shining levels of the sea. Some of the crew 
 were busy about the anchors, preparing to moor. 
 The master and the second and third officers 
 were on the bridge. An able seaman was posted 
 on the forecastle head, looking out. Between 
 the ship and the shore a French trawler was 
 steaming about her business. 
 
 Without any sign or warning a tremendous 
 blow struck the ship on the port side with a loud 
 explosion, and a column of water, rising to the 
 height of the funnels, descended bodily upon 
 the three officers on the bridge, swept along the 
 decks, poured down the companion-ways, and 
 filled up the stokehold. The ship leaned over 
 to port, and officers and men felt her settling 
 down under their feet. 
 
 Several things happened simultaneously. The 
 master, cool and composed, looking seaward, 
 perceived a little hooded dark object cleaving 
 the surface about 600 yards away on the port 
 beam, and, making a path from it to the ship, 
 irregular, eddying patches of foam. There, 
 then, was the submarine and there was the track 
 of her torpedo, ending in a spreading inky patch 
 of water about the ship, where the sea was 
 washing the coal out of the bunkers. Even as 
 the master ordered the boats to be manned, the 
 periscope of the submarine disappeared. At 
 
"WAR IS WAR" 37 
 
 the same time the wireless operator, shut up in 
 his room, was making the S.O.S. signal, and 
 the French trawler in the distance began to 
 steam at full speed towards the ship. 
 
 Owing to the list of the vessel the falls of the 
 boats jammed. The crew cut the ropes, ham- 
 mered away the chocks, and stood by, quietly 
 awaiting the order to launch. They were all 
 wet through, for those on deck had been smoth- 
 ered in the falling water, and those below had 
 struggled up the ladders against descending 
 torrents. There they stood, the deck dropping 
 by inches beneath their feet, and tilting towards 
 the bows, until the sea was washing over the 
 forecastle head, when the master ordered them 
 into the boats. The master was the last to leave 
 the ship. His cabin being full of water, he was 
 unable to save the ship's papers and money. 
 Sixty-two pounds belonging to the owners, and 
 about seventeen pounds belonging to the master 
 himself, were lost. 
 
 By this time the French trawler had come up, 
 and the officers and men, fifty-eight all told, 
 were taken on board. The trawler stood by, 
 while a flotilla of French torpedo-boats, arriv- 
 ing from Havre with several trawlers, steamed 
 swiftly in circles round the sinking ship, in or- 
 der to guard against a renewed attack. 
 
 At half-past ten, about an hour and a half 
 after she was torpedoed, the ToJcomaru, with 
 her cargo of general goods and fruit, went down 
 in a great swirl of water. When it had sub- 
 sided, the trawler moored a buoy over the spot, 
 and took the ToJcomaru' s people into Havre. 
 
38 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 Then and there the master must begin his 
 dreary task of communicating with the British 
 Consul, and with his owners. And then mes- 
 sages in cypher sped over the cables to the For- 
 eign Office, to the Admiralty, and to all con- 
 cerned, altogether a surprising number of per- 
 sons ; while the German submarine sped on her 
 evil way, invisible. 
 
 Eleven days afterwards a lifebuoy, painted 
 white, and inscribed with the legend "S.S. To- 
 komaru, Southampton,' ' was picked up off 
 Dover. 
 
The Last Chance 
 
 Eaely on the morning of July 4th, 1915, a 
 certain wireless station on shore took in and 
 recorded a conversation which was being car- 
 ried on between a vessel, the Anglo -Calif ornian, 
 in the North Atlantic, flying for her life, and 
 three of his Majesty's ships which were rushing 
 to her rescue. Figure to yourself the wireless 
 operator, a staunch youth, in his narrow room 
 abaft the bridge and exposed to fire, the ear- 
 pieces hooped over his head, making and taking 
 in messages amid the incessant detonation of 
 guns, the crash of striking shots, cries, the 
 pounding of feet along the decks, and the scream 
 of wounded animals piercing from below. And 
 picture, out of sight of the Anglo-Calif ornian, 
 three men-of-war foaming towards her, and in 
 the wireless room of each a tiny cabin opening 
 from the deck, a young bluejacket intensely oc- 
 cupied . . . And rapt in the same business, the 
 operator in the wireless station on shore. And 
 wherever the aerials pattern the sky, on sea or 
 land, the same words or part of them, so far as 
 the vibrations extend, flow into human cogni- 
 sance. 
 
40 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 The Anglo-Calif omian, at 8.43 a.m. to Any- 
 one: "S.O.S., S.O.S. Being chased by subma- 
 rine, S.O.S." Then he gave the position of the 
 ship. No answer recorded. Twenty minutes 
 later A.-C. again gave position, adding, "Go 
 ahead. He is being led a dance and it is O.K. 
 to work for a few minutes. Now altering 
 
 course to south." Then "Are you ? He is 
 
 rapidly overtaking us." 
 
 Answer from the void: "Steer" (so-and-so) 
 "and keep me informed." 
 
 A.-C: "That is impossible. We are being 
 fired on" 
 
 Answer: "Where is submarine?" 
 
 A -C : ' ' Now astern. ' ' 
 
 Answer: "Endeavour carry out instructions 
 — important. ' ' 
 
 A.-C: "Can't — he is now on top of us and I 
 can hear his shots hitting us. ' ' 
 
 Answer : ' ' On your port 1 ' ' 
 
 A.-C: "Submarine on top of us and hitting 
 us." Then, "Captain says steering" (so-and- 
 so) "if he alters course will endanger ship." 
 
 Answer: A code message, followed first by a 
 conversation which told that more than one 
 man-of-war was answering the A.-C, and sec- 
 ondly by an order. 
 
 A.-C: "If we steer east we shall have sub- 
 marine a-beam. We can't do it." 
 
 Answer: "Please give your speed," 
 
 which was given, with A.-C.'s position, and col- 
 our of her funnels. A.-C added, i ' Can see your 
 smoke, hold on." 
 
THE LAST CHANCE 41 
 
 Answer: " According to your position I am 
 nine miles off you." 
 
 A.-C: "We are the transport Anglo-Cali- 
 fornian." 
 
 Answer: "Have you many passengers?" 
 
 A.-C: "No, but we are 150 men on board 
 as crew." 
 
 Answer: "Please fire rocket to verify posi- 
 tion." Followed by a conversation on the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 Answer: "What is position of submarine !" 
 
 A .-C : l l Eight astern firing at wireless. ' ' 
 
 Answer: "Let me have your position fre- 
 quently. ' ' 
 
 A.-C: "Now firing our rockets," followed 
 by information as to position. 
 
 This was at 10.9, and at 10.12, that is, when 
 the chase and attack had lasted for an hour 
 and a half, the Anglo-Califomicm made, 
 
 "Submarine signals abandon vessel as soon 
 as possible." 
 
 The answer was an order, to be carried out as 
 "a last resource." 
 
 A.-C: "No, no, she is too close." 
 
 Then the conversation became in the stress 
 of the moment even more like mediumistic com- 
 munications. The record runs : 
 
 A.-C: "We are stopped. Can see you." 
 (Or, "Can you see?") 
 
 Answer: "Stopped and blowing off. Can 
 see you distinctly. Am about S.W. from you, 
 hold on." 
 
 A.-C: "In what direction? He is on the 
 port side. We are between you and him. 
 
42 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 Hurry, hurry, hurry. He is getting abeam to 
 torpedo us." 
 
 Answe r: "I am coming. ' ' 
 
 A.-C: "We are keeping him astern now." 
 
 (?) Answer: "O.K. Endeavour to keep his 
 attention. ' ' 
 
 Answer: "You will be quite safe when (il- 
 legible)." 
 
 A.-C: "Steering zig-zag." Followed by 
 questions and answers as to course and number 
 of masts of the Anglo-Californian, in the midst 
 of which A.-C. interjected, "For God's sake 
 hurry up. What gone ? Firing like blazes, ' ' and 
 "Keeping him astern. Hurry up." 
 
 Answer: "We are firing, can you inform re- 
 sult?" 
 
 A.-C: "Can hear you . . . have stopped 
 . . . no, no. . . . Several being wounded . . . 
 shrapnel, I believe." 
 
 Answer: "Keep men below or those on deck 
 to lay face down. ' ' 
 
 A.-C. : "All taking shelter in front of bridge- 
 houses. He is firing shell." Followed by more 
 questions and answers as to masts and speed, 
 then ' ' Sub. keeping pace ; he is still very close, 
 within a couple of hundred yards. Captain 
 wants to know if you will fire to scare him." 
 
 Answer: "Firing to scare him; please head 
 towards me." 
 
 A.-C: "We can't; you are astern and so is 
 sub. Head for us in roundabout route. ' ' 
 
 Answer: A tactical order, and an inquiry if 
 smoke can be seeu. 
 
THE LAST CHANCE 43 
 
 A.-C: "Yes, yes, a long way off. Can see 
 your smoke astern." 
 
 Answer : § ' What bearing ? ' ' 
 
 Two minutes later, after a confused inter- 
 change of messages, Anglo-Calif ornian said: 
 1 i They can 't tell what bearing, now sinking. ' ' 
 
 Answer: "Are you torpedoed?" 
 
 A.-C: "Not yet, but shots in plenty hitting. 
 Broken glass all around me. Stick it, old man. ' ' 
 
 ( ?) Answer: "Yes — you bet." 
 
 A.-C. (suddenly becoming American in lan- 
 guage) : "Say, the place stinks of gunpowder, 
 am lying on the floor." 
 
 (?) Answer: "Nothing better, old man." 
 
 (?) "Keep your pecker up, old man." 
 
 A.-C: "Sure thing." And "Is there any- 
 thing else coming to us, please?" 
 
 Answer: "Yes, I am — coming full speed 
 knots. ' ' 
 
 A.-C: "I have had to leave 'phones. Yes, 
 I say I smell gunpowder here strong and am 
 lying on the floor, my gear beginning to fly 
 around with concussion." 
 
 Answer: "... smoke W.N.W. of me. There 
 is a mass (?) of fight on our starboard side and 
 the sub. is on our port side. ' ' 
 
 Three minutes later, at 11.23 (two hours and 
 three-quarters after the attack began), the 
 Anglo-Calif ornian makes : 
 
 "Submarine has dived. Submarine has 
 dived." 
 
 Answer: "Eeport her trail at intervals." 
 
 A.-C: "I hope she stops down there, it is 
 
44 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 getting hot here," and after some remarks as 
 to position, 
 
 Answer: "Have you launched all boats?" 
 
 A.-C: "Yes. Two ships coming, one abeam 
 and one at the port quarter. Don't worry, he 
 has gone dipped." 
 
 Answer: "Has submarine gone?" 
 
 A.-C: "Yes." 
 
 It was now 11.42 in the forenoon, or four 
 hours since the attack had opened. What had 
 been happening during that time outside the 
 wireless room? 
 
 At eight o'clock in the morning the master, 
 an experienced seaman of fifty-seven, was on 
 the bridge, whence he sighted a submarine on 
 the port beam. She flew no colours and was 
 proceeding on the surface. The master in- 
 stantly altered course in order to place the sub- 
 marine astern of the Anglo-Calif ornian, tele- 
 graphed an order to the engine-room to increase 
 speed, and told our friend the wireless operator 
 to send out the S.O.S. signal. As it was an- 
 swered by a man-of-war, the master knew 
 thenceforth that if he could hold on long enough 
 he could save his ship and his very valuable 
 Government cargo. Altering course contin- 
 ually, he kept the submarine manoeuvring for an 
 hour; but the enemy was gaining on the ship, 
 and at nine o'clock the submarine opened fire. 
 She mounted a gun forward of her conning- 
 tower and a second gun of another calibre aft 
 of the conning-tower. 
 
 During the next half-hour men were being 
 hit, there was blood on the decks, the ship was 
 
THE LAST CHANCE 45 
 
 frequently struck, and splinters were flying. As 
 the submarine manoeuvred to get into position 
 to fire a torpedo the master of the Anglo-Cali- 
 fornian twisted his ship away. As a fencer 
 watches the blade of his antagonist, so the 
 master fixed his gaze on the low hull, the figures 
 of the officer and helmsman on the railed con- 
 ning-tower, the gunners and the men firing rifles 
 from the deck, all wreathed with smoke, im- 
 placably determined to take his ship. 
 
 Then the submarine hoisted the signal A.B., 
 "Abandon ship." It was at this moment that 
 the wireless operator signalled "Hurry, hurry, 
 hurry. He is getting abeam to torpedo us." It 
 appears that the submarine continued to fire 
 without cessation, while the master ordered the 
 engines to be stopped and the boats to be got 
 away. It is certain that the crew, getting into 
 the boats and hauling upon the falls, were fired 
 on; that when the boats were in the water 
 one was fired on; and that, in the stress and 
 confusion, both boats were capsized. Then the 
 submarine stopped firing. 
 
 At the same moment the smoke of one of the 
 pursuing men-of-war darkened on the horizon, 
 and projectiles fired at extreme range made 
 fountains about the submarine, and then it was 
 that the wireless operator received a message 
 from another man-of-war telling the Anglo- 
 Calif ornian to hold on. 
 
 At this the master resolved to make a last 
 effort to save his ship. In the water alongside 
 the men had righted the boats, and were ready 
 to shove off, when the master ordered them to 
 
46 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 return to the ship. At first the firemen, who had 
 been desperately heaving coal below, living 
 from minute to minute, for more than two 
 hours, hung in the wind, but they came on board 
 and went below again, and once more hove coal 
 into the furnaces. The engines were started, 
 and as the ship gathered way the submarine 
 opened fire, aiming at the bridge and the boats. 
 
 The master's son, who was second officer, was 
 standing beside his father on the bridge when a 
 stunning shock flung him upon the deck, and 
 when he staggered to his feet, the master was 
 not there. He had been blown to pieces. The 
 young man seized the wheel; the next moment 
 a shot smashed a spoke; but he hung on, and 
 never stirred from his post until the rescue. 
 The first officer took command, and presently 
 two men-of-war hove in sight and the submarine 
 dived. It was then about half an hour since the 
 submarine had signalled "Abandon ship." 
 
 The master and eight men had been killed, 
 and seven men had been wounded. But they 
 had saved the ship. The master saved her by 
 taking the last desperate chance, but himself 
 he did not save. 
 
 The Anglo-CaUfornian was escorted into the 
 nearest port by the men-of-war, and after tem- 
 porary repairs had been executed, she pro- 
 ceeded upon her voyage. 
 
Small Game 
 
 The little steamship Downshire was small 
 game, but the Germans are nothing if not thor- 
 ough. The case illustrates to what extent, in 
 these early stages of the war, the master felt 
 he could act on his own responsibility. He went 
 as far as he could. The German officer, al- 
 though, in sinking the Downshire, he was com- 
 mitting an act of piracy, behaved with courtesy 
 and consideration, and spoke "in perfect Eng- 
 lish." 
 
 The Downshire left an Irish port early in the 
 afternoon of February 20th, 1915, and by half- 
 past five, in a clear and calm twilight, she was 
 eight or ten miles from the English coast, 
 steaming at about nine knots, when the master 
 perceived a submarine. The enemy vessel was 
 running on the surface, nearly two miles away 
 on the starboard bow, and heading for the 
 Downshire. 
 
 The master instantly altered course to bring 
 the submarine astern of the Downshire, ordered 
 full speed, and roused out all the men, ten in 
 number. The submarine also altered course 
 and began to chase, rapidly overhauling the 
 
 47 
 
48 S THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 Downshire. At a range of about 400 yards the 
 submarine opened fire from the machine-gun 
 mounted on her deck. 
 
 Here was a pretty situation for the peaceful 
 master of a little coasting trader. He kept his 
 wits about him and his eyes on the enemy ; and, 
 continuing to manoeuvre his ship to put the 
 submarine astern, swiftly reckoned his chances. 
 People think, not in words, but in pictures, dim 
 or clear. The sharper the emergency, the more 
 vivid the picture. The master, never shifting 
 his steady seaman's gaze from the submarine 
 gaining hand over hand astern, beheld with his 
 inward eye the pieces of his problem sliding 
 together and slipping apart again as he bent his 
 mind to fit them to a pattern. 
 
 He foresaw the submarine, with her turn of 
 speed, drawing so close alongside that, as the 
 machine-gun crackled and spat, his men would 
 be struck down; he foresaw the long fifteen 
 miles to the nearest port, partly as measured on 
 the thumb-stained chart, partly as a seascape of 
 deep water, in which the submarine could ven- 
 ture all the way, knowing that she could safely 
 submerge at any moment ; he foresaw his ship, 
 shoving for safety under continued fire for an 
 hour and a half, splinters flying, men rolled on 
 the deck; he may even have seen himself, 
 crumpled up beside the wheel, and a darting 
 vision of the ship being taken after all; he 
 imagined the coiling track of a torpedo whiten- 
 ing towards him, and foretasted the ultimate 
 explosion ; and at the same moment he reckoned 
 the chance of the torpedo striking a hull draw- 
 
SMALL GAME 49 
 
 ing four feet six inches forward and ten feet six 
 inches aft, and perceived that the torpedo might 
 pass under the keel, and also that it might 
 not. . . . 
 
 In the meantime the submarine was still gain- 
 ing on the Downshire. She fired a second shot. 
 The master, with his problem now resolved into 
 a grim pattern whose significance was impera- 
 tive and inexorable, may or may not have con- 
 sidered the possibility of ramming the subma- 
 rine. He had no instructions on the subject. 
 But if he did consider that possibility, he must 
 also have foreseen that if he failed in the at- 
 tempt, the submarine would certainly try to tor- 
 pedo him. If the torpedo hit, all was over. If 
 it missed, the enemy would give no quarter. 
 
 The submarine fired a third shot at close 
 range. That settled it. The master had held 
 on as long as he could. Utterly defenceless as 
 he was, he had not yielded at the first shot, nor 
 the second, nor until he saw that the submarine 
 had the speed of him. He stopped the engines. 
 The Downshire drifted on, losing speed, and lay 
 rolling slightly, while the submarine, drawing 
 up to within fifty yards of the port quarter, 
 stopped also. 
 
 The Downshire 9 s firemen, who had been fu- 
 riously heaving coal, momently expecting the 
 next shot to crash into the engine-room and 
 very likely cut the main steampipe, came on 
 deck, black, sweating and sullen. 
 
 The German submarine officer, addressing the 
 Downshire "in perfect English' ' from his con- 
 ning-tower, courteously issued his orders. The 
 
50 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 crew of the Downshire were to take to their 
 boats, and the master was to bring the ship's 
 papers to the submarine. (They could have 
 given small satisfaction to the German, for the 
 Downshire' s sole cargo was five tons of empty 
 cement bags.) 
 
 Even at this period of the war British seamen 
 knew enough of the German officer to know that 
 his temper was about as calculable as the temper 
 of a tiger. The crew of the Downshire launched 
 their two lifeboats, pulled towards the subma- 
 rine, and stared, composed and curious, at the 
 strange vessel and the foreign officer. That 
 personage was decisive but urbane. He re- 
 gretted the necessity of his action, which, he 
 said, was due to the exigencies of war. One 
 boat he ordered to pull to windward. The other 
 boat, in which was the master, was ordered 
 alongside the submarine. The master and the 
 boat's crew were taken on board, where they 
 scrutinised the white faces and the stiff over- 
 trained figures of the German bluejackets. 
 Then the submarine officer ordered the second 
 officer and the steward of the Downshire back 
 into their boat, telling them to get provisions 
 for the Downshire' 's men. Five men of the sub- 
 marine's crew pulled the boat to the Downshire, 
 and while the second officer and the steward 
 were fetching provisions from below and plac- 
 ing them in the boat, the Germans were occu- 
 pied in fixing a bomb under the Downshire. 
 
 These proceedings were watched in an ab- 
 sorbed silence by the master and the Down- 
 shire's men in the submarine, and by the men in 
 
SMALL GAME 51 
 
 the second lifeboat, standing off at a little dis- 
 tance. It was the execution of their ship they 
 were contemplating. By this time it was evi- 
 dent that no harm to themselves was intended. 
 
 The first lifeboat, stocked with gear and pro- 
 visions, returned to the submarine. The Ger- 
 mans went on board, the master and the rest of 
 his men embarked again, shoved off, and pulled 
 away to join the second lifeboat, while the sub- 
 marine got under way, drew further from the 
 ship, stopped again, and waited. 
 
 The men of the DownsJiire rowed away into 
 the gathering darkness, and the submarine 
 faded out of sight, and the form of the lonely 
 ship grew blurred and dim. There was a flash 
 of fire, the sound of a dull explosion rolled 
 across the water, the distant ship plunged bows 
 under and vanished. 
 
 It was then six o'clock. The whole episode 
 had lasted half an hour. Within the next half- 
 hour the Downshires were picked up by two 
 steam drifters. 
 
 The treatment by the German officer of the 
 officers and men of the DownsJiire shines by 
 contrast with the conduct of some of his col- 
 leagues. That circumstance does not alter the 
 fact that, in destroying the ship and in setting 
 her people adrift, he violated the law of the sea. 
 
VI 
 
 1 ' Where is ' Harpalion ' ? " 
 
 It was tea-time on board the steamship Har- 
 palion proceeding up the Channel, bound for 
 the United States. The third officer went to the 
 bridge, the master and the Trinity House pilot 
 went down to the master's cabin to tea. The 
 second officer sat at tea with the engineers, and 
 here follows his account of what happened. 
 
 "We had just sat down to tea at the engi- 
 neers' table, and the chief engineer was saying 
 ' Grace.' He had just uttered the words 'For 
 what we are about to receive may the Lord make 
 us truly thankful,' when there came an awful 
 crash. I never saw such a smash as it caused. 
 Cups and dishes were shattered to pieces, every- 
 thing in the pantry was broken, and photo- 
 graphs screwed into the walls fell oft' " 
 
 So the second officer told The Times, from 
 whose issue of February 25th, 1915, the passage 
 is quoted. Such was the event inside the ship. 
 Now let us look at it from outside, from the 
 bridge of a distant man-of-war. Her command- 
 ing officer, watching the Harpalion afar off, saw 
 a column of water leap alongside her, then an- 
 
 .52] 
 
"WHERE IS 'HARPALION'?" 53 
 
 other, and heard the dull boom of an explosion, 
 like the slamming of a heavy door in a vault, 
 instantly followed by a second boom. He or- 
 dered full speed and steamed towards the Har- 
 palion. 
 
 On board her, master, pilot, officers and crew 
 had all tumbled up on deck, where, in a fog of 
 steam and smoke, they were just in time to 
 receive the descending fountain of the second 
 explosion. The ship listed to port and began 
 to settle by the head; it was reported to the 
 master that three firemen had been killed below ; 
 and he saw to seaward the periscope of a sub- 
 marine. He also beheld the comfortable spec- 
 tacle of a King's ship tearing towards him with 
 a bone in her mouth. 
 
 The master ordered the boats to be got away. 
 One was already in the water, filled with men, 
 by the time the man-of-war drew close along- 
 side. Her commanding officer hailed the mas- 
 ter, who instantly informed the naval officer of 
 the presence of an enemy submarine. The naval 
 officer assumed the conduct of affairs. He or- 
 dered the boat's crew then afloat to stand by to 
 help save the rest of the crew ; and immediately 
 started in pursuit of the submarine, cruising 
 at high speed about the Harpalion while her 
 people were getting into the boats. Failing to 
 find the submarine, the man-of-war returned, 
 embarked the master, the pilot, the rest of the 
 officers and the crew, thirty-nine all told, and 
 three dead men, and let the boats drift. 
 
 The naval officer and the master then took 
 counsel together. The master thought the ship 
 
54 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 was sinking. The naval officer thought she was 
 likely to keep afloat, but that, as the enemy 
 submarine was probably hanging about, it 
 would be unsafe to leave the crew in the Har- 
 palion. It was therefore decided to land the 
 crew. The naval officer signalled to the nearest 
 naval station asking that a tug should be sent, 
 and proposed that the Harpalion should be left 
 anchored with lights burning, an arrangement 
 which was not, in fact, carried into execution. 
 
 The man-of-war went on to the nearest naval 
 station and landed the living and the dead. 
 She then reported events to her own naval sta- 
 tion. The ship was torpedoed at alittle after five 
 o'clock in the afternoon of Wednesday, Febru- 
 ary 24th, 1915. By a quarter to six she was 
 abandoned. For nearly twelve hours afterwards 
 the Harpalion was lost. The naval officer was 
 right; she was not sinking. If a tug was sent 
 out that evening in response to the signal, she 
 failed to find the Harpalion. 
 
 But let it not be supposed that the Admiralty 
 allows a ship to disappear without explanation. 
 That evening and the next day, Thursday, the 
 Admiralty was asking every naval station in 
 the vicinity of the loss, " Where is Harpalion?" 
 Station A reported trying to find Harpalion, 
 incidentally reporting at the same time that 
 three other vessels had been put down. Station 
 B reported Harpalion derelict, anchored, lights 
 burning, and later, "Cannot find, but search- 
 ing." Station C replied, "Not in my district." 
 
 Where was Harpalion? She was simply drift- 
 ing about, masterless and miserable. She 
 
"WHERE IS 'HARPALION'?" 55 
 
 drifted from 5.45 p.m. on Wednesday to 4 p.m. 
 on Thursday. Then she was sighted by the 
 steamship Ariel, whose master promptly sent 
 four men on board to investigate matters. It 
 was clearly a salvage case ; but in their deposi- 
 tion the four gallant seamen say simply, "We 
 four men got on board as prize crew." 
 
 To be precise, a prize crew is a crew placed 
 by the captor on board a vessel captured by an 
 act of war. Salvage is another affair. Any 
 ship succouring another vessel, derelict or 
 wrecked, is entitled to claim reward from the 
 owners. In the case of the Ariel and Harpalion, 
 it would seem that the men of the Ariel, consid- 
 ering their help to be in the nature of war serv- 
 ice rather than a commercial transaction, pre- 
 ferred to call themselves a prize crew. But this 
 is conjecture, for the four deponents, appearing 
 for a moment in the light of history, have gone 
 again. There were the first officer of the Ariel, 
 two able seamen and one apprentice. 
 
 They boarded the deserted Harpalion on 
 Thursday afternoon, and their own ship, the 
 Ariel, went on her way short-handed. What 
 they did next is not revealed, except that they 
 tried to take her to Cardiff. Their situation 
 was dangerous enough. The ship was full of 
 water forward, and listing to port. At any 
 moment a questing submarine might have sent 
 her to the bottom without warning. Presum- 
 ably the Prize Crew tried to get steam on her, 
 but there is nothing to show that they were suc- 
 cessful. If they failed, the ship was not under 
 control. If they succeeded, their progress must 
 
56 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 have been very slow. In any case, there were 
 only four men, instead of forty-one, to work a 
 ship of 3,669 tons register. The chief officer 
 would be on the bridge, steering and conning 
 the ship, one able seaman in the stokehold, one 
 in the engine-room, leaving the apprentice for 
 services as requisite, such as getting meals, 
 carrying messages, and doing odd jobs. 
 
 The full story of that night on board the 
 Harpalion spent by the prize crew adrift in a 
 ship which they believed to be sinking, remains 
 to be told. Perhaps it will never be told, like 
 many another deed of the sea. 
 
 Early on the Friday morning wind and sea 
 began to rise. The Harpalion was then within 
 about twenty miles of the spot upon which she 
 had been torpedoed. The ship was heavily 
 water-logged; the water was washing in and 
 out of her, and the chief officer was unable to 
 keep her head to the sea. They drifted help- 
 lessly before the gale in that dark and bitter 
 February morning, until eight o'clock, the hour 
 at which all over the world the white ensign is 
 hoisted in the quarter-deck of his Majesty's 
 ships. And at that hour the men of the Harpa- 
 lion descried three men-of-war surging toward 
 them through the smothering sea. Two flew the 
 tricolour and one the white ensign. 
 
 The British torpedo-boat drew near and hove 
 a line on board the Harpalion. The prize crew 
 hauled it in, hauled in a grass rope, hauled in a 
 hawser and made it fast, and the little torpedo- 
 boat began to tow the dead weight of the big 
 cargo-boat. The weather grew worse, and the 
 
"WHERE IS 'HARPALION'?" 57 
 
 torpedo-boat, unable to make any way, was 
 obliged to cast off. "We still stuck to the 
 Harpalion," the prize crew deposed. They 
 stuck to her all that day, in wind and sea, A 
 tug came, but so heavy was the weather she 
 could not get the Harpalion in tow, and so stood 
 by her. Night came, and still the prize crew 
 stuck to their prize. Towards midnight the 
 ship was settling dangerously, and the prize 
 crew were forced to conclude that they could do 
 no more. At half-past eleven on that Friday 
 night they went over the side into their boat, 
 left the Harpalion and went on board the tug. 
 They were not much too soon. Thirty-five min- 
 utes afterwards the Harpalion went down. 
 
 The tug landed the prize crew at Havre, 
 where, before the vice-consul, they made a de- 
 position of the shortest recording their adven- 
 ture, and so went their ways. 
 
 All that Friday the unseen eye of the Admir- 
 alty had been bent upon the Harpalion. Naval 
 station D having reported " Cannot find Har- 
 palion/' naval station B reported "Harpalion 
 picked up by Ariel," and later "Abandoned 
 by Ariel." Naval station A reported "Harpa- 
 lion being towed. ' ' 
 
 Finally, on Saturday, Lloyds reported "Har- 
 palion sunk." But she had floated for fifty-five 
 hours after having been torpedoed. So the 
 naval officer was right in his estimate. Of that 
 period, she was twenty-three hours derelict, 
 thirty-one-and-a-half hours in charge of the 
 prize crew, and a final half -hour again derelict 
 in the storm. 
 
VII 
 
 Netsuke 
 
 The stress of the long vigil was ended. No 
 more the uneasy ship throbbed through the 
 haunted twilight of dusk and dawn, the eyes 
 upon her deck incessantly roving the restless 
 field of sea, while the men below hearkened 
 through the humming of the furnaces and the 
 beat of the engines for the fatal detonation. All 
 that fevered life was past, whelmed in the deep 
 sea. There were left a profound silence, an im- 
 mense desolation. 
 
 In the midst thereof a small, tawny figure, 
 naked to the waist, sat cross-legged on a little 
 raft of wreckage, one tattooed arm clasping a 
 pole, from whose top the flag of a torn garment 
 flew to the wind. It sat as motionless as the 
 carved ivory it wore at its belt. But the black 
 eyes of the Japanese were open, scanning the 
 wide sea-line. 
 
 A little way off, now hidden by a wave from 
 the eyes of the Japanese, now revealed, the head 
 and shoulders of a seaman were bowed upon 
 the stump of a broken spar. 
 
 58 
 
NETSUKE 59 
 
 Except for these two figures, there was noth- 
 ing save broken water under the vast grey arch 
 of the sky. 
 
 The two castaways had passed beyond 
 thought to mere endurance. The progress of 
 time was naught save an intensifying misery. 
 So the hours went by, and still the Japanese 
 sat cross-legged on his little raft, one tattooed 
 arm clasped about the pole, his flag streaming 
 against the inexorable grey, his black eyes open, 
 staring at the far sea-line ; while a little way off 
 the seaman, prone upon his spar, rolled and 
 tumbled with the swell. 
 
 So they were sighted from a steamship; so 
 rescued. When the seaman had come to life 
 again he said: "When the ship was struck I 
 see the little Japanese dive clear of her. After 
 being drawn down and coming up again, I got 
 hold of a spar and hung on to it ; and I see the 
 little Japanese swimming about as lively as a 
 water-chick, collecting bits of wood, gratings 
 and what-not. As he got each piece he tied it 
 to the rest with some line he had, though how he 
 got it I couldn't say; and swimming on his raft, 
 collected more pieces, and lashed the whole to- 
 gether till it would bear his weight. Then he 
 steps a mast, all shipshape and Bristol-fashion, 
 and hoists his vest for a signal of distress. All 
 this time he looks at me now and again with a 
 smile. I told him not to mind me, as I could 
 hang on. Then he sits himself in the midst of 
 his raft like an image. Clever thing as ever I 
 see. He deserved to be saved if ever, so he 
 did," said the British seaman. 
 
60 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 The little Japanese smiled and said nothing. 
 
 The two shipwrecked men were landed and 
 were taken to that admirable and invaluable in- 
 stitution, the Home of the British and Foreign 
 Sailors' Society. The seaman signed on and 
 departed in another ship, the Japanese remain- 
 ing for a day or two. To him came the wife of 
 one of the seamen who had been on board the 
 lost ship to ask for news. 
 
 The little Japanese stood before the anxious 
 woman, and his face was impassive, except his 
 eyes, and his hands fluttered like birds. 
 
 "On deck," said the little Japanese, "captain 
 — donkeyman — mate — seamen, one, two, thlee." 
 He made a bridge of his hands, and swiftly re- 
 versed them. "Ship so. Captain — donkeyman 
 — mate — seamen, one, two, thlee. ' ' He drew his 
 hand across his throat, which clicked. "All 
 gone." He pointed downward. "Your man 
 too." 
 
 The woman went away. The little Japanese 
 went to sea. 
 
VIII 
 
 The Sole Survivor 
 
 The steamship Tangistan, homeward bound 
 from the Mediterranean laden with a full cargo 
 of iron ore, was within a tide of her port of 
 destination, in the north. There had been no 
 alarms during the voyage ; no enemy submarine 
 had been reported during her passage through 
 home waters; and merchant seamen in those 
 days did not seem to regard mines as a real 
 danger. So that when the Irish seaman joined 
 the watch below at midnight, he and his mates 
 had an easy mind. The Irishman, instead of 
 turning in, lit his pipe and, sitting on the edge 
 of his bunk, joined in the talk, which ran on 
 what they would do when the ship fetched up 
 in port next day. Seamen seldom talk about 
 the sea if they can help it. They look backward 
 to the last spell on shore, and forward to the 
 next, where, with a pocketful of pay, they can 
 buy the earth for a day or two, or even (with 
 luck) for a week. 
 
 So the watch below sat and gossiped in the 
 hot, dense reek of the cabin, where the electric 
 
 [61] 
 
62 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 light was hued with tobacco smoke, and the 
 oilskins hanging on the bulkhead swayed to 
 and fro as the vessel rolled at slow speed. 
 
 "Suddenly the ship was brought up with a 
 great shock as if she had struck a rock, and her 
 lights were immediately extinguished. ' ' So 
 said the Irish seaman, afterwards. 
 
 With the rest of the men he ran up on deck, 
 which was sinking beneath his feet. There was 
 a swift and orderly movement in the dark, and 
 orders were being shouted from the bridge. 
 The Irishman went directly to his station at the 
 port lifeboat, slung a lifebelt over his head, and 
 unloosed one of the falls ready to lower away. 
 Two men got into the boat ; a third seaman and 
 the Irishman lowered her; and the next thing 
 the Irishman knew, the solid ship drew him 
 bodily downwards and an immense weight of 
 icy water closed over him. The Irishman, hold- 
 ing his breath, swam desperately upwards. He 
 thought he would burst; he thought he would 
 never prevail; he thought he would die; and 
 then, with a sob, he clove the surface, and trod 
 water, panting. Then he arranged his lifebelt 
 properly under his arms, saw a bulk of wreck- 
 age floating, swam to it, got his leg over it, and 
 so remained. Harsh cries rang through the 
 dark, and the Irishman recognised the voices 
 and lingo of the Arab firemen, and at a little 
 distance he saw four of them clinging, like him- 
 self, to some wreckage. The ship was gone. 
 Of all her people, himself and the four firemen 
 were left alive. 
 
 The Irishman, clasping his spar and heaving 
 
THE SOLE SURVIVOR 63 
 
 up and down on the long swell, felt the cold 
 turning his very bones to ice. He had no idea 
 how long it would be before he was numbed into 
 unconsciousness, when his hold would be loosed 
 and he would be drowned ; but it seemed to him 
 that he would last longer than the four unhappy 
 children of the sun who were crying yonder. He 
 cried out likewise, at the full pitch of his voice, 
 and very likely the exertion helped to keep him 
 going. But his hails sounded in his own ears 
 little as the whining of a sea-gull, and wholly 
 impotent to travel in the great vault of night 
 and tossing sea. Still he called aloud, for he 
 was in the track of steamers. 
 
 And presently he saw a steamer. She carried 
 no lights, but he descried her form, a darker 
 shape upon the sea and sky, and saw the sparks 
 volley from her funnel. 
 
 He shrieked till his voice broke, but the 
 steamer went on and vanished. The Irishman 
 was furiously enraged ; but it was of no use to 
 be angry. He went on calling. So did the other 
 four castaways, but their cries were growing 
 fainter and less frequent. 
 
 Then there loomed another steamer, and she, 
 too, went on. It seemed to the Irishman that 
 he was doomed; but he went on calling. An 
 Irishman dies hard. By this time perhaps an 
 hour had gone by, and the Arab firemen had 
 fallen silent. The Irishman could see them no 
 longer. He never saw them again. 
 
 A third steamer hove in sight, and she, too, 
 went on. 
 
 The Irishman cursed her with the passionate 
 
64 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 intensity peculiar to the seaman, and went on 
 calling. It was a desperate business now; lie 
 could not last much longer; but he would not 
 be ' ' bet, ' ' as he called it. 
 
 Then a fourth steamer came towering upon 
 the night, and the Irishman bellowed like a bull. 
 Did she hear? Not she — not listening — not 
 caring — not likely. No — Yes! She was slow- 
 ing down. There was an answering hail. Stop- 
 ping. Stopped. Away boat. 
 
 Crying and calling, the Irishman sat on his 
 spar, and heard the grunt of the oars in the 
 rowlocks, and saw the sweep of the blades and 
 the dim foam, and then faces bending over him 
 with kindly speech, and he was hauled into the 
 blessed boat and into life. He had been in the 
 water for two hours and ten minutes. Dip your 
 hand in next time you are on the North Sea in 
 winter, and see what it feels like. 
 
 And next day he was in port, as he had an- 
 ticipated; except that he had nothing in the 
 world but the borrowed suit of clothes he wore, 
 and the borrowed boots in which he trod the 
 familiar pavement on the way to the Sailors' 
 Home. 
 
IX 
 
 According to Instructions 
 
 The master of the steamship Headlands, 
 which was entering the western approaches of 
 the Channel, descried a burning ship. She lay 
 about five miles distant to the eastward, and a 
 thick smoke ascended from the forward part of 
 her. The master, obeying the custom of the 
 sea, despite of peril of mine and submarine, 
 altered course to go to the assistance of the 
 ship overtaken by disaster. 
 
 It was then nine o'clock of a fine clear day, 
 Friday, March 12th, 1915. Ere twenty minutes 
 had gone by, the master saw the conning-tower 
 and masts of a submarine, which was then some 
 three miles away, and which was heading south, 
 towards the Headlands. And then he saw, fur- 
 ther away, a little patrol boat heading for the 
 submarine, saw the flash of guns, and heard 
 the distant clap of their explosion, as the patrol 
 boat fired at long range on the submarine. 
 
 The master immediately perceived several 
 things at once. He perceived that in all proba- 
 bility the burning vessel had been set on fire by 
 the submarine; that the pitrol boat was attend- 
 
 165] 
 
66 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 ing to the submarine, and that the Headlands 
 had run into an affair from which the sooner she 
 departed the better. So the master put his helm 
 hard a-starboard and steered for the majestic 
 lighthouse which towers, a white policeman with 
 a lantern, at the sea-turning to the port. 
 
 The Headlands was shoving along as fast as 
 she could go, when the master saw that the 
 submarine was slashing along on the surface so 
 fast that the patrol boat was being left far 
 astern, and also that the submarine was catch- 
 ing up the Headlands. The master, like other 
 masters since, had occasion to reflect what hap- 
 pens when you leave your course to help a 
 friend in trouble. Also he had time to frame 
 his plan of action. 
 
 He decided to run for it, to hold on, and to 
 force the submarine to expend a torpedo before 
 he surrendered. It might miss him. If it hit, 
 that could not be helped. He wished the ship's 
 bottom had been clean, when he could have got 
 another two knots out of her. The submarine 
 continued to gain on the Headlands. 
 
 The master went below, unlocked all his con- 
 fidential papers, and burned them in the cabin 
 stove, took his hand camera, and returned to 
 the bridge. 
 
 The chase had begun at about twenty minutes 
 to ten, and after about half an hour the sub- 
 marine was within speaking distance astern, 
 and her commanding officer was hailing the 
 Headlands to stop. The master made no reply. 
 He read the number of the submarine — "TJ 29" 
 — and then he knew he was being chased by the 
 
ACCORDING TO INSTRUCTIONS 67 
 
 notorious Captain Otto Weddingen, who (it was 
 believed) had sunk the armoured cruisers 
 Aboukir, Cressy and Hogue. The master took a 
 photograph of "U 29,' ' which vessel, he after- 
 wards reported, was "of the latest type." 
 
 Captain Otto Weddingen told the master that 
 he would sink him in five minutes. The master, 
 still disdaining to reply, ordered the crew to 
 get their gear together, and held on his course. 
 
 At 10.25 the submarine fired a torpedo. It 
 struck the Headlands abaft the engine-room, 
 and she began to settle down. The submarine 
 instantly went about and made off at full speed. 
 The people of the Headlands took to their boats, 
 whence they perceived, far away, patrol vessels 
 which were apparently hunting the "U 29/ ' 
 Half an hour later the boats were taken in tow 
 by patrols, which landed them in port at two 
 o'clock that afternoon. 
 
 In the meantime the submarine had sped over 
 twenty miles to the westward and had sunk 
 another ship. The vessel to whose assistance 
 the master of the Headlands had been going 
 was still burning. She was the Indian City, 
 and she sank during the afternoon of the next 
 day. The Headlands was still settling down. A 
 steamer from the port went out to her, and had 
 towed her to within a mile of the lighthouse 
 she had failed to reach when, at eight o'clock 
 in the evening, down she went. 
 
 Here is the master's (unofficial) comment, 
 which I am permitted to quote: 
 
 "I am naturally sorry that the old Headlands 
 has gone, the more so as I have lost something 
 
68 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 like £150 in stores and personal effects. Still, 
 I have the satisfaction of knowing that to the 
 last minute we did all possible to avoid capture 
 by carrying out the stipulated Admiralty in- 
 structions." 
 
 As for the "U 29," a fortnight later she was 
 reported by the British Admiralty as having 
 been sunk with all hands. 
 
 Had the master of the Headlands been pro- 
 vided with a gun, he would have had another 
 story to tell; such a story, for instance, as the 
 record of the little steamship Atalanta. 
 
 On a wild autumn morning in the following 
 year the Atalanta was pounding up the Channel 
 against a full north-westerly gale, when the 
 master descried a boat, now swung to the crest 
 of a wave, the crew pulling steadily, now swal- 
 lowed up from view. The master altered course 
 to pick up the castaways, and manoeuvred the 
 steamship to put the boat under her lee. A 
 rope was flung to the men, and they climbed on 
 board, eleven French seamen from the sailing 
 ship Marechal de Villars, which had been sunk 
 by an enemy submarine. 
 
 The Frenchmen were rescued at about ten 
 o'clock on the morning of September 11th, 1916. 
 Three-quarters of an hour later the master 
 sighted a German submarine. Her square, 
 slate-coloured conning-tower, rounded at the 
 fore-end, was forging through the breaking sea, 
 off the starboard bow of the Atalanta, between 
 two and three miles distant from her. 
 
 The master of the Atalanta altered course to 
 put the submarine astern, ordered full speed, 
 
ACCORDING TO INSTRUCTIONS 69 
 
 and posted the gun's crew at the gun mounted 
 on the quarter. 
 
 The submarine fired. The range was about 
 5,000 yards, and the shot struck the sea short of 
 the Atalanta. The submarine fired again, and 
 again the projectile fell short. The range had 
 decreased to about 4,000 yards, and the Atalanta 
 fired at the submarine, the shot falling short of 
 her. After an interval of five minutes the enemy 
 fired again, and the Atalanta courteously re- 
 plied. There was a third exchange, and then the 
 submarine, with a parting shot, went about and 
 headed for a steamer then visible on the horizon. 
 The Atalanta went on her way. On this occasion 
 three rounds sufficed to discourage the enemy. 
 
The "Lusitania" 
 
 The fact seems to be that, in spite of their 
 threats, no one really believed the Germans 
 would put down the Lusitania. According to 
 the evidence of surviving passengers, the twelve 
 hundred passengers felt little apprehension. 
 Either they had not heard of the warnings be- 
 fore coming on board, or, having heard these 
 rumours, they thought nothing of them, and, 
 in any case, they relied for their safety upon 
 the speed of the vessel and the protection, upon 
 approaching British shores, of British men-of- 
 war. Thus, when the passengers went to lunch 
 on Friday, May 7th, 1915, the south coast of 
 Ireland being then in sight, all was as usual. 
 So, at least, it appears; for the evidence of a 
 few out of so many cannot be conclusive. 
 
 The purpose of the following narrative is 
 neither to record the technical aspect of the 
 event nor to depict its horror, but to exemplify 
 the conduct of officers and men, in so far as it 
 can be ascertained. Nor is it part of the au- 
 thor's business to reflect upon the crime of the 
 Germans, which in this case differed only in 
 degree and not in kind from other murders, and 
 which will bring its own punishment in due 
 time. 
 
 70 
 
THE "LUSITANIA" 71 
 
 At two o'clock on that Friday afternoon a 
 couple of able seamen went up to relieve the 
 men keeping a look-out in the crow's-nest on 
 the foremast. One took the port side, the other 
 the starboard side. 
 
 The man on the port side scanned the smooth 
 bright sea and marked the coloured cliffs of the 
 Irish coast showing through the haze. The man 
 on the starboard side saw the field of water 
 stretching clear to the horizon, with here and 
 there a distant boat. 
 
 Said port to starboard, "Anything in sight V 
 
 To which starboard replied, "Nothing do- 
 ing.' ' 
 
 There was a few minutes' silence. Then 
 starboard said to port : 
 
 "Good God, Frank, here's a torpedo!" And 
 he shouted to the bridge below with all his 
 strength. 
 
 Port, turning to his mate's side, perceived a 
 white track lengthening swiftly from a spot 
 some two hundred yards away from the ship. 
 The next moment came an order from the 
 bridge: "All hands to boat stations," and the 
 men went down. 
 
 When the A.B. told his mate there was a 
 torpedo coming, the master, standing outside 
 the door of his room on the A deck, also saw the 
 white track. The quartermaster at the wheel 
 heard the second officer sing out, "Here is a 
 torpedo." An able seaman on the saloon deck, 
 looking through the port, saw a ripple on the 
 water about 300 yards distant, then the white 
 track, and then he saw the torpedo itself, and 
 
n THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 cried out a warning. Three passengers, stand- 
 ing on the upper deck aft, and gazing out to 
 sea, saw what they described as something like 
 a whale or a porpoise rising out of the sea about 
 three-quarters of a mile away, leaving a little 
 trail of white bubbles. Then from that object 
 they saw a white track heading towards them. 
 At first no one spoke, though all had the same 
 thought. Then one said, " Looks like a torpe- 
 do," and another said, "My God, it is a tor- 
 pedo.' ' The white track, drawing nearer to the 
 ship, was hidden from the sight of the passen- 
 gers on the upper deck high above the water, 
 and they said that for a second they had a kind 
 of hope it would not explode. 
 
 Another passenger saw a streak of white, as 
 if made on the water by the tail of a fish, and 
 then he saw a periscope. A woman said to him 
 lightly, "It looks like a torpedo coming.' ' 
 
 The next moment another passenger, leaning 
 over the rail, actually saw the torpedo strike the 
 hull between the third and four funnels. He 
 said the sound of the explosion was like a heavy 
 door slammed by the wind. 
 
 The master, standing outside his room, was 
 flung to the deck by the shock, and, picking 
 himself up, ran to the navigation bridge. As 
 he ran he felt a second explosion. The ship was 
 already listing to starboard. The master or- 
 dered all hands to the boats, signalled to the en- 
 gine-room a preconcerted signal, but there was 
 no answering movement of the ship. The mas- 
 ter told the quartermaster to put his helm hard 
 a-starboard. The quartermaster reported hard 
 
THE "LUSITANIA" 73 
 
 a-starboard. The master said, "All right, boy," 
 and told the second officer to note what list 
 the vessel had, and the quartermaster to keep 
 her head on Kinsale. It was the right seaman 's 
 resource to try to beach her. 
 
 The first officer was seated at lunch in the 
 saloon when the torpedo struck. He ordered all 
 the starboard ports to be closed, and struggled 
 with the passengers up to the boat deck. The 
 intermediate third officer, who was also seated 
 at lunch in the saloon, went up to his boat sta- 
 tion on C deck, starboard side. A second-class 
 waiter, in his pantry, felt the ship shake heavily, 
 saw people crowding up on deck, and went up 
 to his boat station. The junior third officer was 
 in the officers' smoke-room on the bridge deck. 
 The lights went out; he ran up to the bridge, 
 the ship leaning over, a shower of fragments 
 falling from above the funnels, saw the white 
 track of the torpedo, and heard the master or- 
 der the swung-out boats to be lowered to the 
 rail. The A.B. on the saloon deck who had seen 
 the white track and shouted a warning before 
 the torpedo struck was already at his boat sta- 
 tion. The passengers on the upper deck were 
 staggering to the port side, up the deck, which 
 sloped at about the angle of an ordinary slate 
 roof, arms clasped over their heads, pieces of 
 the ship falling all about them, and immersed 
 in a black cloud of smoke and water, whose va- 
 porous outer edge shone white. Passengers 
 were crowding on deck from below, and some 
 of the women were weeping. 
 
74 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 What was happening below, in the rooms and 
 alleyways of that floating steel town? 
 
 The junior second engineer was in his cabin 
 when he heard a grating noise, and the ship 
 heeled over. Going out into the alleyway, he 
 was told what had happened. Then he dressed 
 himself, went to the lifebelt locker, served out 
 lifebelts to passengers, thence he went to the 
 engine-room and told the firemen to get away 
 up through the engine-room skylight. Then, 
 and not till then, he went up on deck to his 
 boat station. 
 
 The second senior third engineer, on watch in 
 the engine-room, had made out the speed of the 
 vessel by reckoning the revolutions when the 
 shock came. In a moment the main steam 
 dropped to 50 lbs. The pointer on the signal 
 dial worked from the bridge switched to full 
 speed astern and then full speed ahead, as ar- 
 ranged in case of emergency to get full steam 
 on. But there was no steam. The lights burned 
 dim. The engineer officer started to go to the 
 store to get lamps, but failing to get through 
 the men rushing to the upper deck, he turned 
 back to the platform in case there should be 
 more signals. Thence he descended to the lower 
 plates to see if the watertight doors were closed. 
 The lights went out. Groping in darkness and 
 alone, the engineer officer ascertained that the 
 water-tight doors were closed, and judged that 
 the turbines and the pumps had stopped work- 
 ing. Then he went up to C deck. 
 
 In the meantime the first junior third engi- 
 neer, who was in No. 3 boiler-room, heard the 
 
THE "LUSITANIA" 75 
 
 explosion, felt the ship's list, and closed the 
 nearest water-tight door by hand. The forward 
 water-tight door, starboard side, was blocked 
 by escaping firemen. So the engineer officer as- 
 cended to the fan flats, went through the fire- 
 men's quarters and along the engine-room to 
 his cabin on C deck, and thence to his boat sta- 
 tion. 
 
 A leading fireman, working in No. 3 section 
 of the port-side stokehold, felt a crash as if the 
 ship had struck a rock. The men about him 
 cried out, "They have got us at last," and 
 dashed into the after stokehold. The leading 
 fireman did not follow them. He stopped to 
 think. Having decided what to do, he went into 
 the next section, into which the water was flow- 
 ing, and forced the water-tight door shut 
 against the stream. Then he climbed up to the 
 fan flats to his quarters, took a lifebelt in his 
 hand, and went up to C deck. A passenger 
 snatched the belt from him and ran. The fire- 
 man vaguely understood that word was being 
 passed that the ship would not sink, and went 
 on to his boat station. 
 
 The curt narratives of these survivors disen- 
 gage a phantom vision of the stunning reality. 
 The huge vessel, into which some two thousand 
 souls had been decanted, is speeding on the 
 bright sea, each of her inhabitants busy about 
 his private concern, working the ship, tending 
 the engines, feeding the furnaces, gossiping, 
 dozing, caring for the children, leisurely lunch- 
 ing, when there comes a shock, a jar, and a 
 trembling and the ship tips sideways, and to 
 
76 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 every soul on board there rises the immediate 
 prospect of death. 
 
 Death or no death, to the officers and the 
 ship's company there is duty to be done. The 
 master, upon whom rests the whole responsibil- 
 ity, gives his orders from the tilting bridge, 
 sinking momentarily nearer the water; the 
 quartermaster puts the wheel over ; the officers, 
 scattered about the ship, instantly do the near- 
 est piece of work, help and encourage the pas- 
 sengers and go to their boats. The engineers 
 methodically attend to the engines, while the 
 lights burn dim and are presently extinguished. 
 The men from the foretop, saloon, and stoke- 
 hold go to their boat stations. The passengers, 
 with one accord, are pouring up to the slanting 
 decks, where everything is sliding and slip- 
 ping. . . . According to testimony, there was 
 very little panic, but some of the women were 
 weeping. 
 
 The master, speaking from the bridge, had 
 ordered the boats to be lowered to the rail; 
 and women and children first. He saw that, 
 owing to the heeling over of the ship to star- 
 board, it would be dangerous to lower the port 
 side boats to the rail, because they would swing 
 inboard, strike the slanting deck and turn over. 
 He saw that until the ship stopped it would be 
 dangerous to lower the starboard side boats 
 into the water because, owing to the way of the 
 vessel, they might capsize. There was there- 
 fore an interval, during which officers and men 
 strove to load the boats with passengers and 
 get them away. 
 
THE "LUSITANIA" 77 
 
 The master on the bridge knew that the en- 
 gines were powerless, and that the vessel would 
 presently stop, so that he could not beach her. 
 The quartermaster reported that she kept pay- 
 ing off. The second officer, watching the ship 
 heeling over, reported 15 degrees of list, and 
 then an increase. The water was lipping over 
 the starboard end of the bridge. The master 
 told the quartermaster to save himself, and the 
 quartermaster, having no lifebelt, waded waist- 
 deep into the rising water, got a lifebuoy and 
 was then washed into the sea. The master re- 
 mained on the high end of the bridge. 
 
 What was happening on the tilted deck? 
 
 The first officer, who had been at lunch in 
 the saloon, was getting people into a boat on 
 the starboard side. By that time the ship was 
 listing 40 degrees, and sinking by the head, and 
 the boat was therefore hanging from the davits 
 several feet away from the rail. The first offi- 
 cer, with immense difficulty, transferred about 
 eighty persons across this chasm into the boat 
 and then lowered the boat into the water. Peo- 
 ple were then slipping down the deck into the 
 sea. The first officer remained in the ship, the 
 people in the boat calling to him to come down. 
 The forward bridge was awash, and the ship 
 evidently sinking fast. The first officer went 
 down the falls and dropped into the boat. Two 
 or three minutes afterward the ship stood on 
 her nose and went down, and the boat was 
 dragged this way and that in the whirlpool. 
 
 The junior second engineer, coming up from 
 directing the firemen, came to his boat on the 
 
78 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 port side, where were some of the boat's crew 
 and a crowd of passengers. He lowered the 
 boat to the level of the deck and filled her with 
 women. Then the heeling over of the vessel 
 flung the boat inboard and capsized her on the 
 top of her passengers. The engineer officer, 
 hanging on to a davit, went down with the ship, 
 and presently came up again. While the junior 
 second engineer was hanging on the davit and 
 the passengers were sliding from under the cap- 
 sized boat down the deck and into the water, 
 the second senior third engineer, having done 
 all he could below, climbed over the rail on the 
 port side and walked down the hull into the sea. 
 
 The first junior third engineer, having shut 
 watertight doors and the like below, came up 
 to the starboard side, where the first officer was 
 loading his boat. The first junior third engi- 
 neer took charge of his own boat. He stood by 
 the after falls, and an able seaman stood by the 
 forward falls. They lowered the boat to the 
 deck and put about thirty women into her. Then 
 they lowered the boat into the water, the junior 
 third engineer, like the first officer, remaining 
 in the ship. When the rail had dropped to 
 within about ten feet above the boat, he jumped 
 down into her, seized an oar and tried to shove 
 off from the ship's side. A dense cloud of water 
 mingled with soot descended, and when the 
 engineer officer could see again, there was no 
 ship, and the boat was swinging in the whirl- 
 pool. 
 
 When the intermediate third officer came up 
 from the saloon, with a rush of passengers, he 
 went to his section of boats, starboard side. 
 
THE "LUSITANIA" 79 
 
 One of his boats, which had been lowered to 
 the rail, was already full of passengers, and 
 some aliens were trying to get on board. The 
 officer disposed of the aliens and got the boat 
 into the water and away. Then he got another 
 boat away, full of passengers. He could have 
 gone with her, but he was too late. The ship 
 was sinking. He struggled up the steep slant 
 of the deck to the port side, and the water 
 caught him. He had just time to snatch the 
 life line of a boat, when he was sucked down 
 with the ship. When he came to the surface the 
 ship was gone. 
 
 The second-class waiter and library steward, 
 who had rushed on deck from his pantry, went 
 to the after collapsible boats and tried to get 
 them away. Failing, he cut away empty cases 
 and lockers and hove them overboard, so that 
 people could hang on to them. The ship sank 
 under him. 
 
 The leading fireman, coming up from below, 
 was carried by the crowd to the starboard side. 
 Here he found a boat, of which the forward falls 
 had slipped, hanging bows down. He helped to 
 haul her level, and then helped to put women 
 into her. As she was being lowered, a fall 
 slipped and all the passengers were thrown into 
 the sea. The fireman clung to a thwart of the 
 boat, which was drawn down with the ship. 
 
 The junior third officer, coming from the 
 bridge, went to his boat station on the deadly 
 port side, and with an able seaman lowered his 
 boat, which swung inboard and was useless. 
 Then the staff captain sent him back to the 
 bridge to tell the second officer to trim the ship 
 
80 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 with the port tanks. The ship drawing a little 
 nearer level, the port boats were swung clear 
 of the rail. Then some passengers, meddling 
 with the guys, let them go, so that the boats 
 swung back again inboard. Amid this crowd 
 and confusion, the ship heeling over, boats and 
 collapsible boats beneath them, and passengers 
 all mixed up together, the junior officer strove 
 desperately until, the ship going down under 
 him, he slid down to starboard, where the rail 
 was nearly submerged, and so into the water, 
 and was sucked down with the vessel, and came 
 up again. 
 
 It seems that the two able seamen who had 
 come down from the crow's-nest were also 
 struggling to get the port side boats away. 
 One boat, partly filled with women, was being 
 lowered when the ship sank, and all were in the 
 water. 
 
 The able seaman who from the saloon saw the 
 torpedo coming and gave the alarm, being un- 
 able to get one of the starboard boats away, 
 joined the party under the command of the first 
 officer, and went away in his boat. 
 
 The master, on the bridge, put on a lifebelt, 
 waited till the ship sank under him, went down 
 with her and came up again. As the water 
 closed about him there rang in his ears "a long, 
 wailing, mournful, despairing, beseeching cry. ' ' 
 So one of the passengers described the last 
 sound to The Times. 
 
 He was in the water for nearly three hours 
 when he was picked up by one of the ship's 
 boats. 
 
THE "LUSITANIA" 81 
 
 What happened after the Lusitania had 
 plunged down bows first, her stern projecting 
 almost vertically from the sea, the living within 
 her being smashed against bulkheads by furni- 
 ture and then drowned? 
 
 Amid the whirl and undulation and breaking 
 waves of the sea were tossing men, women and 
 children, dead and alive, boats, cases, casks, 
 spars, wreckage of all kinds. Eight in the 
 whirlpool were the laden boats of the first officer 
 and of the junior third engineer, and the two 
 other boats lowered from the starboard side. It 
 seems that only these four were safely got away 
 filled with passengers. There were other boats 
 floating about, and some collapsible boats. Some 
 boats were capsized, some had people clinging 
 to them. 
 
 The first officer, whose boat, laden with about 
 eighty people, was tossing dangerously, ordered 
 the passengers to sit still, and by means of good 
 seamanship extricated his boat from danger. 
 With him were the first junior third engineer, 
 the able seaman from the saloon deck, and some 
 seamen and stewards. About 600 yards away 
 was another boat, apparently empty, to which 
 they pulled, and found in her three men who 
 had swum to her. The first officer transferred 
 to this boat the first junior third engineer, whom 
 he put in charge of her, a crew of seamen and 
 stewards and about thirty passengers. Boom 
 was thus made in both boats for more survivors. 
 The first officer returned to the scene of the 
 disaster and picked up as many people as the 
 boat would hold. Then he rowed to a fishing 
 
82 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 smack, a distance of about five miles, and put 
 the passengers on board her. Then he rowed 
 all the way back again. He came upon a col- 
 lapsible boat, water-logged and helpless, in 
 which were thirty-five persons, took them on 
 board, and transhipped them into a trawler. 
 The trawler towed the first officer's boat back 
 once more to the scene of the wreck, and he 
 rescued ten persons, whom he transhipped to 
 another vessel. By this time there were various 
 vessels assembling ; and the first officer, finding 
 his crew exhausted by their hours of rowing a 
 heavy sea-boat, and their intense exertions, 
 went with them on board one of the rescuing 
 boats, and so was taken into Queenstown. 
 
 In the meantime the first junior third engi- 
 neer had been doing the like with his boat. He 
 baled her out, picked up about twenty-four per- 
 sons, and transferred them to a sailing trawler. 
 Then he took a number of women from a collap- 
 sible boat into his own boat, the sailing trawler 
 being fully laden. A steam trawler arrived, 
 and the first junior third engineer put his crew 
 and passengers on board her. The trawler sup- 
 plied fresh crews for the boat and the collapsi- 
 ble boat, took the boats in tow, and, having res- 
 cued more people, went to Queenstown, where 
 she arrived about half -past eight in the evening, 
 some six hours after the disaster. 
 
 So much for the work of the boats. We learn 
 something of what happened to the people cast 
 upon the sea from the brief accounts of sur- 
 vivors, and thus picture the field of waters, 
 strewn with wreckage and half -submerged boats 
 
THE "LUSITANIA" 83 
 
 to which people are clinging, and dotted with 
 men and women still feebly swimming and 
 floating. . . . Here and there are trawlers and 
 other vessels, and boats whose crews are hauling 
 people over the side. 
 
 One of the able seamen who had been on 
 watch in the crow's-nest, and who had been 
 drawn down with the ship, came to the surface 
 and seized a floating block of wood. Then he 
 saw a woman struggling, pushed the wood over 
 to her, and swam away to a collapsible boat. 
 There were several people in her, one of the 
 ship's officers among them. The able seaman 
 climbed on board, and at once took his part in 
 wrestling with the crank boat, which kept turn- 
 ing over. Again and again they righted her, 
 but each time they were flung into the water 
 some of the survivors were drowned. After 
 a long time, those who remained, the sturdy 
 A.B. among them, were picked up by one of the 
 ship's boats. 
 
 The junior second engineer who, while trying 
 to launch one of the port side boats, had been 
 drawn down with the ship, came up to the sur- 
 face, clutched a lifebuoy and remained floating. 
 He floated for about two and a half hours, and 
 then he was picked up by one of the ship 's boats. 
 
 The second senior third engineer, having done 
 all that could be done below, came up on deck 
 to find it tilted to so steep an angle that he could 
 not keep his footing. He climbed over the rail 
 on the port side and walked down the sinking 
 hull into the water. He kept himself afloat for 
 about three hours. Then he was picked up by 
 
84 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 one of the collapsible boats, which was partly 
 water-logged, and thence he was transferred to 
 a patrol boat. 
 
 The quartermaster who, after being told by 
 the master to save himself, took a lifebuoy and 
 was washed from the bridge, swam to a capsized 
 boat. Seated in the keel were ' ' two foreigners, ' ' 
 who hauled the quartermaster alongside them. 
 The party was rescued by a trawler. 
 
 The intermediate third officer, having helped 
 to launch the starboard side boats, ran up the 
 deck to the port side as the ship went down, and 
 was carried down with her. He swam to a cap- 
 sized boat, to which twenty-five persons were 
 clinging. During the next four hours and more 
 twenty of the twenty-five dropped off and were 
 drowned. A trawler rescued the survivors. 
 
 The second-class waiter under whom the ship 
 went down while he was cutting away and casting 
 into the sea lockers and empty cases, also swam 
 to a capsized boat and was eventually picked up. 
 
 The leading fireman, carried down on the 
 starboard side with the boat he was trying to 
 clear and the ship, swam to a collapsible boat. 
 It was fortunately floating right side up; the 
 cover was still on it; and on the cover were a 
 coal-trimmer and a woman. They helped him 
 on board ; and the leading fireman, a person of 
 energy and resource, got to work, cut the cover 
 away, put the sides up, and then cruised about 
 picking people from the water. They were 
 presently rescued by a trawler. 
 
 The junior third officer, after his desperate 
 efforts to get away the port side boats, had gone 
 down with the ship. When he came up he 
 
THE "LUSITANIA" 85 
 
 swam to a collapsible boat, which was partly 
 stove in. He climbed on board her and picked 
 up another man. The two, having managed 
 partly to raise the sides of the boat, went in 
 search of others. They rescued several people 
 from the water and from a capsized boat, during 
 two hours ' hard toil. Then they came upon three 
 persons hanging on to a bread-tank, but by that 
 time the collapsible boat was full. The indefat- 
 igable junior third officer found an empty boat, 
 transferred his passengers to her, then returned 
 and took in the castaways on the bread-tank 
 and picked out several more people floating on 
 life-belts. He kept the two boats in company, 
 and both were subsequently rescued. 
 
 The rescuing vessels came dropping into 
 Queenstown as the night fell, laden with the 
 living, the dying and the dead. During the next 
 two days the dead were carried through the 
 streets by stretcher-parties to the mortuaries. 
 Here men and women walked in fear, scanning 
 the dead faces, looking for those whom they 
 had lost. But our affair is not with the pas- 
 sengers, but with the men of the merchant serv- 
 ice, and how they discharged their duty. 
 
 It is right, however, that the remarks made 
 by the enemy should be remembered. Said the 
 Cologne Gazette: "The news will be received by 
 the German people with undisguised gratifica- 
 tion. . . ." Said the Frankfurter Zeitung: "A 
 German war vessel sunk the ship. It has done 
 its duty!" Said the Austrian Neue Freie 
 Presse: "We rejoice over this new success of 
 the German Navy. ..." 
 
 So much for "the freedom of the seas." 
 
XI 
 
 The Castaways 
 
 The master was sitting in the saloon, peace- 
 fully writing. His ship, pitching heavily in the 
 swell, was the British steamer Coquet, laden 
 with salt, which she was carrying eastward 
 through the Mediterranean. It was eleven 
 o'clock in the forenoon of Tuesday, January 
 4th, 1916. The master heard the report of a 
 gun fired at sea. Eunning up to the bridge, he 
 heard a second report, and saw a projectile 
 speed across the bows and plunge into the water. 
 The third officer, on watch on the bridge, told 
 the master that the shots were fired from a 
 submarine on the port quarter, and also that 
 he had (he thought) sighted another submarine 
 on the port bow. Gazing across the field of 
 great blue hills rising and falling, at first the 
 master could see nothing else. Then he caught 
 side of the submarine astern, running on the 
 surface at a good speed, something over a mile 
 away. Another shell sang over the bridge, an- 
 other passed under the stern. The master, per- 
 ceiving that the attacking submarine was over- 
 
 86J 
 
THE CASTAWAYS 87 
 
 hauling him, and having reason to suppose that 
 another submarine was approaching, ordered 
 the engines to be stopped, and the boats to be 
 made ready to get away, and ran up a hoist of 
 flags, signifying that the ship was stopped. 
 The submarine drew nearer, flying the signal 
 "Abandon ship." Then the master went down 
 to his cabin, took his confidential papers and 
 burned them in the galley fire. The officers and 
 men were lowering the boats in a hurry, amid 
 the babble in several languages of the crew, 
 who were of various nationalities. 
 
 The port side lifeboat, under the command of 
 the first officer, was got away first. The master, 
 taking his chronometer, sextant, chart and the 
 ship's papers, went away in the starboard life- 
 boat. Then the submarine opened fire again. 
 Shefiredeight shots, all of which missed the ship, 
 one severing the bridge signal halliards. The 
 heavy swell baulked the submarine gunners. 
 
 The submarine, drawing nearer the two boats, 
 ordered them to come alongside, a manoeuvre 
 highly dangerous with so great a sea running. 
 And in coming alongside both boats were flung 
 downwards upon the outer edge of the subma- 
 rine's hull, which was awash, their timbers were 
 started, and the water came in. The master was 
 ordered on board the submarine by her com- 
 manding officer, a short, square-built man of 
 forty or fifty with a fair moustache, speaking 
 good English. With him were several other offi- 
 cers, all dressed in leather clothing, and bearing 
 the Austrian crown in their caps. Eight or nine 
 of the crew, wearing ordinary bluejackets' rig, 
 
88 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 were on deck. They were secured in case of acci- 
 dent by lanyards fastened to their belts and at- 
 tached at the other end to a wire jack-stay run- 
 ning fore and aft. The submarine, painted a blu- 
 ish slate-colour, was not of the latest size. She 
 bore signs of wear, carried two masts winged to 
 the deck and lying on it, and mounted one gun, 
 about nine feet long, forward of the conning tower. 
 
 When the two boats of the Coquet were diz- 
 zily rising and falling alongside the submarine, 
 the submarine commander ordered the master 
 to come on board. At the same time some of 
 the submarine's crew, armed with revolvers 
 and cutlasses, embarked in the two boats, which 
 were sent back to the ship, leaving the master 
 alone with his captors in the submarine. 
 
 The commander of the submarine proceeded 
 to improve the occasion by endeavouring to 
 elicit from the master his views on the subject 
 of the war. The British officer, by his account 
 of the matter, seems to have affected a dense 
 ignorance. But the ignorance of the submarine 
 commander was probably unfeigned, for he said : 
 
 "When you get back to London, Captain, tell 
 Mr. Grey that if he does not want his ships sunk, 
 to stop the war ; it is only being kept on by him 
 and the young men of England.' ' 
 
 While the master was thus being entertained, 
 the two ship 's boats had regained the ship. The 
 men were given twenty minutes to collect their 
 gear, while the submarine's men set to looting 
 the vessel. When the men of the Coquet were 
 ready, they were ordered to return to the sub- 
 marine. The submarine's people loaded one of 
 
THE CASTAWAYS 89 
 
 the small boats of the Coquet with their booty, 
 lowered her into the water, embarked in her, and 
 fastened two bombs on the ship's hull, under 
 water, abreast of the holds. Then they pulled 
 away for the submarine. 
 
 The master, stolidly parrying the questions of 
 the submarine commander, saw two bursts of 
 black smoke shroud the Coquet, and heard a 
 double explosion. Instantly the ship began to 
 settle by the head. He watched her sinking for 
 several minutes, then she plunged bows down, 
 lifted her stern high above the water, screamed 
 like a wounded animal, and vanished. For in 
 sinking, something caught her whistle lanyard. 
 (It is recorded by eye-witnesses that when 
 H.M.S. Sultan was wrecked in the Mediterra- 
 nean many years ago, she having been aban- 
 doned at the last minute, her ensign was lowered 
 to half-mast as she was in the act of sinking.) 
 
 The two lifeboats of the Coquet came along- 
 side the submarine, both leaking badly, so that 
 the men were baling hard. It was in these 
 damaged craft that the submarine commander 
 proposed to set thirty-one men adrift, many 
 miles from land, in mid-winter, in the dangerous 
 weather of the Mediterranean. The master re- 
 monstrated with the submarine officer, telling 
 him plainly he was committing murder. The 
 affair struck the submarine commander as hu- 
 morous. He laughed, airily promising to send 
 the next ship he stopped to look for the cast- 
 aways. His men then robbed the Coquet of 
 chronometers, sextants, charts and everything 
 else that took their fancy. The master was or- 
 
90 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 dered into his boat; the two boats shoved off; 
 and the submarine got under way, steered 
 northward, and was presently lost to sight. 
 
 So ended chapter one. 
 
 Consider the situation of these thirty-one sea- 
 men, adrift in open boats, both of which were 
 overloaded and unseaworthy, some 300 miles 
 from the mainland, which they could not pos- 
 sibly reach in less than three days and three 
 nights, with .wind and weather favourable. The 
 chief hope was their rescue by a steamer. 
 
 There were seventeen in the master's boat, 
 fourteen in the mate 's boat. The master steered 
 south, hoisting sail and running before the wind, 
 a course which would take them across the 
 track of steamers. And sure enough, after sail- 
 ing all the afternoon, they sighted a ship. The 
 mate, whose boat was between the master's boat 
 and the distant ship, burned three red flares, 
 and the master burned one. So the castaways 
 stared in suspense at the prospect of their sal- 
 vation. But immediately it vanished, for the 
 steamer held on her course. 
 
 Then began one of those ordeals of the sea 
 which go beyond the landsman's imagination to 
 conceive. By this time the sea was running so 
 high that it was dangerous to sail. The master 
 lowered the sail, unshipped the mast, and put 
 out the drogue, or sea anchor, a conical bag of 
 sailcloth, which, towed with the open larger end 
 towards the boat, serves to take her way off 
 and keep her head to sea. But the sea-anchor 
 failed of its effect, and the master towed the 
 mast instead. 
 
THE CASTAWAYS 91 
 
 The breaking waves, and the spray driven by 
 a pitiless north wind, soaked the castaways and 
 chilled them to the heart. The boat was con- 
 tinually filling with water, so that two men 
 mnst be kept baling without cessation. 
 
 The master, competent and imperturbable 
 from first to last, organised his party. The ra- 
 tions were fixed at two and a half biscuits and 
 two gills of water per man per day, and the 
 first ration was given that night. The men took 
 turns at the baling, two at a time. The steward, 
 an old man and ill, was exempted. So were the 
 four boys, who were paralysed with sea-sick- 
 ness, cold and fear. So passed the night of 
 January 4th, after the ship which might have 
 rescued the castaways had gone on her way un- 
 heeding. There is no record of what happened 
 in the chief officer's boat. 
 
 So, all the next day, January 5th : heavy sea, 
 bitter wind, thirst, cold, hunger, incessant bal- 
 ing and the boat never less than ankle-deep in 
 water, bale as they might. That day the car- 
 penter managed to caulk a part of the boat with 
 pieces of shirt. So, all the night of the 5th, and 
 the early morning of the 6th. 
 
 "When the darkness began to thin the master, 
 as his boat rose to the crest of a wave, made out 
 a dark object in the distance away to leeward, 
 and thought it might be a steamer proceeding 
 without lights. He burned a flare, which was 
 immediately answered by another, and pres- 
 ently, not a steamer but the first officer's boat 
 hove nearer. When the first officer came within 
 speaking distance, the master told him to keep 
 
92 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 far apart, in order to increase the chance of 
 sighting a steamer. The first officer steered 
 away, and gradually drew further off during 
 the day. As darkness closed in on the third day, 
 those in the master's boat lost sight of the first 
 officer 's boat. She was never seen again. 
 
 That night, the night of January 6th-7th, the 
 sea rose higher, so that the master trailed a 
 leaking oil-bag to allay the breaking of the 
 waves. The night was worse than the day, be- 
 cause during the day there was a chance of 
 sun. But, save for an occasional watery ray, 
 there never was any sun. 
 
 The misery of the castaways was hourly in- 
 tensifying. The master and several others suf- 
 fered piercing pains in their joints. One of the 
 four boys, a little Italian mess-room waiter, 
 cried all night long in his sleep with the pain. 
 So passed the day of the 7th and the following 
 night. 
 
 On the morning of the 8th wind and sea went 
 down a little. The master reckoned that by 
 this time he had run right across the track of 
 steamers ; he perceived that it was impossible, 
 in that weather, to return upon his course ; and 
 he decided to steer south for the African coast. 
 At first they did better; then the wind backed 
 to west-north-west, making it difficult to keep 
 the course. 
 
 All that night, and all the day following (the 
 9th), the wind kept backing to the south-west, 
 the boat making more and more leeway. Still 
 the master sailed her indomitably. The allowance 
 of water had been slightly increased, because 
 
THE CASTAWAYS 93 
 
 the continual driving of the salt spray gave the 
 men an intense thirst. But the water was run- 
 ning short. Towards evening, the master, un- 
 able any longer to steer south, was forced to 
 steer south-east. So he held desperately on till 
 midnight. And then he descried, looming 
 through the wintry dark, land. 
 
 Almost at the same moment, with that per- 
 versity which lends to fortune an expression of 
 blind malignity, the wind blew harder and 
 shifted into the south, dead ahead, and scourged 
 the water into the vicious short sea of the Med- 
 iterranean. The master, numbed and suffer- 
 ing, but unbeaten, reefed down and held on. 
 But so heavy were wind and sea that presently 
 he was compelled to lower the sail, unship the 
 mast, heave it overboard with a couple of oars 
 lashed to it, and tow it, to serve as a sea-an- 
 chor. In this near hopeless trim they pitched 
 and rolled, baling all the while, for three or 
 four hours. Then, as the light of day began 
 to glimmer over the desolate sea, the wind and 
 sea went down somewhat. The master shipped 
 the mast again, and again hoisted sail, and be- 
 gan to beat to windward. To and fro they 
 shoved, gaining perhaps a few yards when they 
 went about, the heavy boat making leeway for 
 all they could do, the wind pushing them off 
 the desired shore. So, all day. Beating up 
 against a head wind is a heavy, weary job 
 enough with a fresh crew, plenty of time and no 
 anxiety. What was it to these castaways, sliding 
 back and forth in sight of the mocking shore ! 
 
 But they drew nearer in spite of all ; and as 
 
94 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 the chance of salvation grew, the wind dropped, 
 nntil they could no longer keep steerage way in 
 the boat. Bnt by this time the shore was in 
 clear view, sloping down to a little bay, and, be- 
 yond, buildings rose upon the grey sky. The 
 master lowered sail, and ordered the men to row. 
 It was the last effort. The crew were so exhaust- 
 ed they could scarce get way on the boat, and all 
 the while two of them must keep baling, crouch- 
 ing under the moving oars as best they could. 
 
 They drew near the rocky shore, where a 
 heavy sea was running, and the boat was filled 
 with water, so that they must haul off and bale 
 her out. This happened twice. Then they got 
 the boat into shallow water, tumbled out of her, 
 and made her fast. 
 
 The master sent a couple of men to look for 
 water, made the boat secure for the night, and, 
 stiff and aching, his legs bending under him, 
 explored the haven to which he had so dread- 
 fully come. In the face of the low cliffs closing 
 in the bay were the dark mouths of caves. 
 Looking into these, the master perceived wet 
 and a lamentable stench. Ascending the cliffs, 
 he found what he had thought to be a village 
 was a heap of ancient ruins. The master de- 
 cided that it was best to sleep on the sand of 
 the bay, which, he hoped, might hold some 
 warmth of the day's sunlight. 
 
 But when they lay down in their wet clothes 
 the sand struck chill and wet. Ere they lay 
 down, they made a meal of limpets plucked from 
 the rocks, biscuit, and water from a well found 
 by the two men. They slept, the master, the 
 
THE CASTAWAYS 95 
 
 second officer, and the two engineers keeping 
 watch by turns, as miserable a party as the 
 stars looked down upon that night. They had 
 lost their ship on the 4th ; it was now the 10th ; 
 six days and nights they had tossed and suf- 
 fered, starved, athirst and deadly cold ; and now 
 they were flung upon the edge of the desert, soli- 
 tary and savage. 
 
 So ended chapter two. 
 
 The master, upon whom hung the lives of all, 
 awoke at daybreak and, aching in every bone, 
 reflected upon the situation. It appeared to 
 him that the place where they were, being pro- 
 vided with water to drink and shellfish for food 
 and the materials for shelter, should serve as 
 a base until he could discover the nearest port 
 of civilisation. 
 
 Breakfast of shellfish, biscuits and water was 
 served out. The master instructed the second 
 officer to get the boat baled out, listed over and 
 repaired if possible, and to clean out one of the 
 caves and to light a fire in it. The wind had 
 dropped ; there was a flat calm ; and to get any- 
 where by rowing was merely impossible. So the 
 master, with three men, set forth to try to find 
 a man or a town. The country was all mud and 
 great stones and hills of loose sand, so that the 
 pioneers, whose legs were near paralysed, stum- 
 bling and falling, endured the most frightful 
 toil. It takes a deal to kill the British seaman. 
 After all they had suffered, with scarce a flicker 
 of life alight in them, these four started on a 
 long march. They struggled on in that savage 
 wilderness for some hours, and then, as though 
 
96 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 appearing out of the earth, there stood before 
 them a lone Arab of great stature. The master 
 could make nothing of his talk; but he seemed 
 friendly, and together they retraced the weary 
 way to the camp. 
 
 When they arrived, one of the firemen, a 
 Greek, acted as interpreter. It appeared that 
 the tall Arab proposed that the party should em- 
 bark in their boat and let him pilot them to the 
 nearest port. But the second officer now re- 
 ported that the boat was damaged beyond re- 
 pair. The planks on either side the keel were 
 smashed to pieces, and the water came in faster 
 than it could be baled out. Then the helpful 
 Arab suggested that the master should march 
 with him across country to the nearest town. 
 But the master was done. He had been walking 
 for six or seven hours already. So he sent two 
 Greek firemen with the Arab. One of the Greeks 
 spoke Arabic, so that he could converse with 
 the guide ; the other knew Italian. As the cast- 
 aways were in Italian territory, the Greek could 
 explain the case. The Greeks were told to ask 
 for a boat to be sent to rescue the party. So 
 they departed with the Arab into the desert. 
 
 The fifteen men left behind began to reckon 
 upon the coming of that vessel in the morning. 
 A fire of driftwood was blazing in the cave ; the 
 people had dried their clothes; and, although 
 the floor was wet and hard, at least there was a 
 fire, and a part of their bodies was warmed. 
 
 Next morning, the 12th, after breakfast, some 
 of the men went away to wash in the muddy 
 water of a little river flowing into the sea near 
 
THE CASTAWAYS 97 
 
 by. All kept an eager eye lifting to seaward, 
 looking out for the rescuing vessel. It was 
 nearly ten o 'clock, and the master was just go- 
 ing down to the river to wash, when there rang 
 the crack of rifles, and bullets sang about the 
 rocks. 
 
 Silhouetted against the sky on the top of a 
 little hill were the dancing and gesticulating fig- 
 ures of two Arabs. They were laughing and 
 shouting; and the master, conceiving the fusil- 
 lade to be no more than an expression of Bed- 
 ouin humour, wisely decided to take cover while 
 it lasted. Down by the water's edge was a line 
 of ruins, beneath which ran a dry ditch, closed 
 at one end by the sea. The master ordered the 
 men into the ditch, and with his customary fore- 
 thought saw that they took with them a bucket 
 of drinking water. 
 
 The two Arab sportsmen presently disap- 
 peared, but the master still kept his party un- 
 der cover. The two Arabs must have been 
 scouts, for after about half an hour fifteen Bed- 
 ouin, armed with rifles, leaped shouting upon 
 the bank of ruins, and burst into a torrent of 
 unintelligible speech. Two Arabs covered the 
 master with their rifles. He held up his hands, 
 showing that he was defenceless, whereupon one 
 of the marauders, standing within six feet of 
 the master, drew a bead on him. The master 
 ducked as the Arab pulled the trigger ; the bul- 
 let cut through the flesh of the master's bent 
 shoulders, and the shock of the blow knocked 
 him backwards. The back of his head struck 
 the sand, and he lost consciousness. 
 
98 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 When he came to himself, there was no sound 
 save the groaning of a man in pain. The master, 
 getting dizzily to his feet, the blood flowing 
 from his wound, which hurt him exceedingly, 
 perceived the carpenter, writhing on the ground 
 near the waters edge. The man was horribly 
 wounded; he implored the master to drag him 
 away from the water. The master, in spite of 
 the pain of his wound, tried to move the man, 
 but he was too heavy. 
 
 In the sea close by, the body of the steward 
 was floating, face downwards. Further up the 
 trench lay the little Italian messroom boy, he 
 who had suffered so dreadfully in the boat. But 
 all was over for the little Italian, in this world. 
 
 The master, from where he was, could see 
 none other of his party. He kept his gaze to 
 seaward, passionately expecting, in this last ex- 
 tremity, the boat for which the two Greeks had 
 gone with the friendly Arab. Now and again 
 he gave the carpenter water to drink. 
 
 So he waited, in company with two dead and 
 one dying. And then at last he beheld the smoke 
 of a steamer, and a little after made out the 
 Italian colours she was flying. She rounded 
 into the bay; away came a boat crammed with 
 soldiers ; the master tottered out from his ditch, 
 and the first thing he saw was another sailor, a 
 coloured man, lying prone and bleeding on the 
 sand. He was still alive, and he told the master 
 that the Bedouin had shot and bayoneted him 
 and left him for dead, and that they had carried 
 away the rest of the crew. 
 
 The soldiers, landing, spread out in pursuit 
 
THE CASTAWAYS 99 
 
 of the Arabs; but these savages were out of 
 sight. The Italian officer in command con- 
 veyed the master, the two wounded men and the 
 two dead on board the steamer. The carpenter 
 died while his wounds were being dressed. 
 There were then left alive the master and the 
 coloured seaman. 
 
 The Italians took the living and the dead to 
 their military post. The master and the sea- 
 man were placed in the military hospital. The 
 bodies of the two men and of the little Italian 
 were buried with full military honours. 
 Throughout, the master and the seaman re- 
 ceived the greatest kindness from the Italians. 
 
 The master recovered and returned to Eng- 
 land. He gave an admirable account of his ad- 
 ventures to the Imperial Merchant Service 
 Guild, which was published in The Times of 
 March 30th, 1916, and upon which the present 
 writer has largely drawn in framing his nar- 
 rative. 
 
XII 
 
 Down in Five Minutes 
 
 The business of a gunner is to stick to his 
 gun. When the torpedo exploded below in the 
 stokehold, the Royal Marine Artilleryman in 
 charge of the gun on deck " brought the gun to 
 the * ready' and had a good look round." But 
 he could see nothing to shoot at; nothing but 
 the long, ragged swell of the Eastern Mediter- 
 ranean. The ship was heeling over ; it was im- 
 possible to train the gun ; so the Royal Marine, 
 with his brother gunner, ran to a boat which 
 was filled with passengers, and tried to lower 
 her. But the list of the ship, as she lay down on 
 her side, capsized the boat. The two Marines, 
 perhaps remarking that it was time to get out 
 and walk, slid into the water and swam about 
 until they were picked up by one of the ship's 
 boats. Thirty hours they were adrift ; and then 
 they were rescued by one of his Majesty's ships, 
 and were thence transferred to a battleship; 
 
 "Gunner and self remaining on board 
 
 H.M.S. awaiting further orders." 
 
 So ended the voyage of the two R.M.L.I. 's on 
 board the Royal Mail steamer Persia. 
 
 100 
 
DOWN IN FIVE MINUTES 101 
 
 On Thursday, December 30th, 1916, she was 
 in the Mediterranean, proceeding eastwards, 
 carrying 503 persons, of whom 186 were pas- 
 sengers. The crew consisted of 81 Europeans 
 and 236 natives. At ten minutes past one, with- 
 out sign or warning, the Persia was torpedoed 
 and sank in four to five minutes. 
 
 The second officer, on watch on the bridge, did 
 indeed catch a glimpse of the wake of a torpedo, 
 but before he could lay hand on the wheel to put 
 the helm over, came the explosion. The tor- 
 pedo struck the ship on the port side, burst in 
 the stokehold, exploded a boiler, killed the en- 
 gine-room staff, and blew a large hole in the 
 hurricane deck. Immediately the ship began to 
 lie down on her port side. 
 
 She was thus rapidly heeling over when the 
 second officer, trying to sound the emergency 
 signal on the whistle, found all the steam had 
 gone. He then perceived the situation, which 
 was, in brief, that the ship was sinking; that 
 while she was sinking she was still moving for- 
 ward with her own impetus; that her motion 
 would make the operation of lowering boats dif- 
 ficult and dangerous; but that as there was no 
 steam she could not be stopped. 
 
 The second officer realised these things as he 
 sprang down to the lower bridge, where was the 
 master. The master ordered him to get the 
 boats away. The second officer dashed to the 
 two boats on the poop. During the minute or 
 two which had elapsed since the explosion, these 
 were already loaded with women and children 
 and a few of the crew. The second officer, work- 
 
102 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 ing with furious energy, got both boats low- 
 ered. One floated clear. The other, as the ship 
 continued to lean over, was actually pressed 
 down by the davits, with the weight of the ship 
 behind them. There was no more to be done 
 with it. By this time the deck was nearly per- 
 pendicular. The second officer struggled to two 
 boats secured inboard, and swiftly loosened the 
 gripes. Then he scrambled up to the starboard 
 side, and tried to lower a boat. As in the case 
 of the Lusitania, the boat swung inboard. All 
 these things did the second officer in four or 
 five minutes. Then the ship sank under him. 
 
 The second officer swam to a boat and climbed 
 in. She was one of the inboard boats he had 
 cast loose. The second officer took to the oars 
 and picked people out of the water. 
 
 The chief officer was in his cabin when he felt 
 the impact of a heavy blow upon the ship, and 
 the next moment, with a great sound, everything 
 leaped from the bulkheads and fell about his 
 ears. One moment he stood dazed ; the next he 
 caught up a lifebelt and an axe, and ran up to 
 the tilting boat deck shouting "Port boats." 
 He saw the second officer getting away the boats 
 on the poop ; perceived that the ship was sinking 
 so rapidly that there would be no time to load 
 the boats; and decided to get them away in 
 order to employ them afterwards in saving peo- 
 ple in the water. Under his orders the boats 
 were flung loose, the chief officer using his axe. 
 Then, like the second officer, he slid into the 
 water and swam. He was picked up by a boat 
 which already contained over thirty persons. 
 
DOWN IN FIVE MINUTES 103 
 
 Then he rescued more people, until his boat was 
 so overloaded that he transferred several per- 
 sons to the second officer 's boat. 
 
 No one seems to know what became of the 
 master, except that he went down with his 
 ship. 
 
 What of the passengers, among whom were 
 women, children and soldiers 1 
 
 One of the passengers, a civil servant, made 
 an illuminating statement. He was travelling 
 with a friend, and it seems that both men had 
 in mind the possibility of submarine attack. 
 The evening before the disaster the two men 
 stood looking up at the boat to which they were 
 allotted in case of emergency, slung to its dav- 
 its above them, thoughtfully contemplating its 
 attachments, and they remarked to each other 
 that one of the securing pins was rusted into 
 its socket. 
 
 Next day the civil servant was in his cabin, 
 washing his hands before going to lunch, when 
 there came the explosion. A confusing sense of 
 stress and hurry instantly took him, but he 
 acted coolly enough. He snatched his lifebelt, 
 and quitted his cabin to go on deck. There was 
 a lady standing motionless. He spoke to her, 
 but she did not answer. He forced his lifebelt 
 upon her, and ran back to his cabin to fetch his 
 life-saving jacket. On his way up to the deck 
 he received an impression of women and chil- 
 dren huddled together in the corridors, and on 
 the companion ladders, and some were moaning 
 or crying out. Then there emerged from the 
 hurried confusion another motionless figure of 
 
104 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 a lady, a Frenchwoman. The civil servant 
 seized her, and somehow dragged her up the 
 stairs. On deck someone took the lifebelt from 
 her nerveless hand, put it about her, and pushed 
 her into the water, whence she was afterwards 
 rescued. The civil servant remembers seeing a 
 steward carrying two babies. Coming to his 
 boat on the port side, the civil servant found his 
 friend in her, with another man, the carpenter 
 and a seaman. Two aft and two forward, they 
 were trying to lower the boat. The rusted pin 
 had jammed. The friend cried out for an axe. 
 The civil servant, climbing into the boat, caught 
 up a broken oar and passed it to his friend, who 
 knocked out the pin with it. 
 
 Then the boat, being on the port side, which 
 was sinking into the water, swung violently out- 
 board and back again, striking the ship's side, 
 and pitching one man into the sea. 
 
 At the same time the next boat was being 
 lowered, full of people, when the falls parted at 
 one end, and the boat dropped perpendicular to 
 the water, so that all the people were spilt into 
 the sea. The falls parted at the other end of 
 the boat, which then dropped on a level keel 
 into the water, whence people struggled into 
 her. While they were climbing in, another boat 
 descended on the top of them, and thence into 
 the water, so that people were crushed between 
 the two boats. 
 
 The civil servant's boat was cast loose, and 
 the painter cut with a pocket knife, and then, 
 as the boat was sucked right across the ship's 
 stern, the ship went down. Those in the boat 
 
DOWN IN FIVE MINUTES 105 
 
 sat helpless, their craft whirling in the smooth 
 swell of the suction. 
 
 They got out the oars and picked people from 
 the water, until there were nearly fifty on hoard, 
 five of whom were women. The civil servant 
 remembers seeing a clergyman of his acquaint- 
 ance, swimming steadily, and appearing per- 
 fectly composed. They were unable to reach 
 him. He also saw two capsized boats, on one 
 of which were two Lascars, and on the other 
 several Lascars. 
 
 The chief officer's boat and the second offi- 
 cer's boat joined company with the boat in which 
 was the civil servant, and also with a fourth 
 boat, which was also filled with survivors, and 
 the chief officer took command of the flotilla. 
 He ordered the boats to sail or row back to the 
 place of the wreck, in order to look for more 
 survivors. But the wind was against them; 
 they could make no way; and they were blown 
 in the opposite direction. 
 
 It seems that two or three small vessels were 
 sighted during the afternoon. At nightfall the 
 chief officer anchored. After dark the castaways 
 saw the lights of a steamer and burned flares, 
 but the steamer went on. The next morning 
 they saw a large vessel, and the second officer 
 went away under sail to cross her course, but 
 the ship, doubtless suspecting a trick of an en- 
 emy submarine, altered course and went on. 
 
 The people in the boats tossed and drifted in 
 the sun and the heavy weather all that day. 
 For food they had biscuits and for drink water. 
 That night they again saw the lights of a ship 
 
106 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 and again burned flares. They saw the green 
 light and then the red light glowing in a line, 
 and knew that she was heading towards them. 
 
 The lack of an officer to command the civil 
 servant's boat nearly resulted in the loss of all 
 on board, for as the ship drew nearer the passen- 
 gers all stood up, and the boat,turningbroadside 
 to the swell, was in imminent danger of capsizing. 
 
 The rescuing ship was one of his Majesty's 
 destroyers. 
 
 In the fifth boat, which was separated from 
 the others, was Lord Montagu of Beaulieu, who 
 contributed an interesting account of his adven- 
 tures to The Times of January 19th, 1916. 
 
 Lord Montagu went down with his ship, came 
 up, swam to a capsized boat and climbed on the 
 keel. Clinging to the boat were many native 
 seamen and a few Europeans. Several presently 
 dropped off and sank. The boat righted herself 
 on a wave, and the survivors climbed into her. 
 She was badly damaged; her bows were split, 
 there was a hole in her bottom, her air-tanks 
 were broken ; and the men sat with the water to 
 their knees. Every now and then she capsized in 
 the swell. Several more of the native crew died 
 from exhaustion. There was no water, nor any 
 food except a few spoiled biscuits; and these 
 were not discovered until the castaways had 
 been thirty hours without sustenance. 
 
 At night Lord Montagu saw the ship which 
 the other boats' crews saw, and also the ship 
 they sighted next morning. During the rest of 
 the day nothing appeared; and by the evening 
 Lord Montagu told his friend that there was 
 
DOWN IN FIVE MINUTES 107 
 
 no hope, and his friend agreed. Lord Montagu 
 records that he was oppressed by an immense 
 drowsiness, which he was only just able to re- 
 sist. But he fought against the sleep which, 
 he believed, was death, because he intended to 
 hold out to the last. 
 
 About eight o'clock they saw a light, which 
 they took at first to be a star. Then they 
 descried the port and starboard lamps of a 
 steamer, and all shouted together. The ship 
 stopped, drew on again, there came a hail from 
 her bridge, and her whistle was blown. When 
 the officers of the vessel perceived the plight of 
 the men in the boat, which was now "like a 
 crushed eggshell, ' ' they brought the ship along- 
 side, rove bowlines through a purchase, and 
 hoisted the helpless castaways on board. So 
 they were saved by the men of the merchant 
 service. 
 
 Of the 503 persons on board, 334 were lost, 
 and 169 were saved. Among the lost were 121 
 passengers, 166 native crew, 47 European crew. 
 Among the saved were 65 passengers, 70 native 
 crew, 34 European crew; and their salvation 
 was due in the first instance to the promptitude, 
 skill and resource of the ship's officers, who had 
 only four minutes in which to do everything. 
 
xin 
 
 The Raider 
 
 i 
 Gathering Them In 
 
 This is the story of some of the British sea- 
 men captured by the German commerce-de- 
 stroyer Moewe, whose other name was Ponga, 
 commanded by Count Dohna. That officer would 
 seem to have studied the methods and the code 
 of the late Captain Eaphael Semmes of the Ala- 
 bama, the daring and punctilious privateersman 
 who, in the American Civil War, inherited the 
 traditions of the war of 1812 and of the Na- 
 poleonic guerre de course preceding that cam- 
 paign. As for the British seamen, I do but tell 
 their own story. Count Dohna had the upper 
 hand — there is no denying it; and the British 
 masters had to swallow their gruel. Eesistance 
 was useless; even so, the master of the Clan 
 Mactavish fought, as you shall hear. 
 
 On Tuesday, January 11th, 1916, the cargo- 
 boat Corbridge was steaming nine knots in the 
 North Atlantic in fine, clear weather. About 
 
 108 
 
THE RAIDER 109 
 
 two o'clock in the afternoon the master sighted 
 a vessel coming np astern, abont five miles 
 away. She was flying the red ensign and there 
 was nothing remarkable about her. The master 
 observed that she was gradually overhauling 
 the Corbridge; then, at a quarter to four, he no- 
 ticed that the stranger suddenly altered her 
 course, steering towards another vessel, which 
 was steaming in the opposite direction, some 
 three miles away on the port bow. By this 
 time the wind had freshened, and the sea was 
 getting up, and now and again a rain-squall 
 blotted out the two ships. As the squall blew 
 away the master of the Corbridge saw the flash 
 of guns and heard their reports, and perceived 
 that the vessel first sighted was firing upon the 
 steamer coming towards her. 
 
 The master then understood that the strange 
 vessel which had turned away from him was a 
 German. There was nothing to do but to hold on 
 his course with all speed, gaining what start he 
 could while the enemy was engaged with the 
 other ship. It was then four o'clock; the dusk was 
 gathering; and if he could keep on for another 
 hour, when it would be dark, he might escape. 
 
 What was happening on board the ship at- 
 tacked? She was the Farringford. When her 
 master sighted the stranger at a quarter to 
 four the stranger was flying the signal "What 
 ship is that?" The master of the Farringford 
 made no reply. Then the stranger hoisted 
 "Stop. Abandon ship." The master of the 
 Farringford, perceiving that the stranger, now 
 within a quarter of a mile, was training guns 
 
110 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 upon the Farringford, stopped. Up went the 
 German ensign, and there came a hail, "Aban- 
 don ship at once." 
 
 The master of the Farringford ordered the 
 boats to be got away, secured his confidential 
 papers, weighted them with a lead sinker, and 
 hove them overboard. The crew had no time to 
 collect their effects. They hurried into the 
 boats, one able seaman breaking his leg in the 
 process. There were twenty-two British and 
 one Norwegian ; and, although they were under 
 the guns of the German, they were perfectly 
 cool and steady. The master left his ship last ; 
 and as the boats pulled clear the Germans 
 opened fire upon her. 
 
 The master was taken up on the bridge 6f the 
 German. By this time the two ships were no 
 more than a hundred yards apart; five or six 
 shots had been fired, and the master witnessed 
 the discharge of a torpedo. It broke surface, 
 swerved to the right, and passed about thirty 
 feet ahead of the Farringford. But she was 
 already sinking by the stern when the master 
 was ordered below. 
 
 The injured seaman had been taken to the 
 sick bay, and the master found the rest of the 
 crew on the between-deck, under an armed guard. 
 
 But before he went below, and afterwards, 
 when he was allowed on deck, the master of the 
 Farringford took careful note of the German 
 ship. His observations and the observations of 
 other British captains, may here be given. 
 
 The vessel was painted black. Apparently 
 her original colour was white, as one of the mas- 
 
THE RAIDER 111 
 
 ters noticed that there was a streak of white at 
 the water-line. The master of the Farringford 
 thought the original colour was slate. Showing 
 through the final coat of paint were the blue and 
 yellow stripes of the Swedish colours, which had 
 apparently been blazoned for purposes of disguise. 
 The name on the seamen's cap-ribbons were of 
 various vessels, the name Moewe being carriedby 
 the greater number. In the chart-house, under the 
 displacement scale, the name Pong a was printed. 
 All the masters refer to the ship as The Raider. 
 
 The Raider was an armed merchant ship, 
 cunningly altered at once to serve and to con- 
 ceal her purpose. Her bulwarks were raised to 
 the height of the poop deckhouse, and the pas- 
 sage between the bulwarks and the deckhouse on 
 either side was decked over, and closed by 
 doors, from which 18-inch-gauge tram-lines ran 
 to the torpedo-tubes abaft the foremast. On the 
 deck above the poop, where the hand steering 
 wheel would be, was a gun cased in canvas. In 
 front of it was a dummy steering wheel. So 
 far as can be made out from the reports, the 
 real wheel was fixed in the roof of the deck- 
 house, in the space between the roof and the 
 new deck, in which a hatch opened, through 
 which appeared the helmsman's head. 
 
 High bulwarks closed in the upper deck, and 
 in these hinged flaps or ports of sheet-iron con- 
 cealed the upper deck guns. When the guns 
 were manned, the ports dropped outwards. 
 
 There were two guns under the forecastle, 
 supposed to be 4.1-inch; two larger guns, one 
 on either side, under the break of the forecastle ; 
 
112 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 one gun, also supposed to be a 4.1-inch, on the 
 poop, as already described, and, so far as could 
 be discovered, two guns under the poop. Total, 
 seven guns. Abaft the foremast, between fore- 
 mast and bridge, were two 18-inch torpedo- 
 tubes. Two torpedoes in boxes were placed be- 
 tween number 1 and number 2 hatches. The 
 after-end of the hatches had been taken out, the 
 coamings raised to three feet, and in this shel- 
 ter were stowed five more torpedoes in cases. 
 
 The use of the tram-lines was not discovered ; 
 but it was surmised that they were part of the 
 mine-dropping gear, the mines being stowed 
 under the poop. 
 
 There were two derricks, and two derricks on 
 the mainmast. There was a wireless equipment. 
 
 The Raider was fitted with a single screw, and 
 her extreme speed was estimated at 14 — 15 
 knots. The crew was estimated to number 
 something under 300 men. 
 
 The personal appearance (though not the 
 manners) of the commander of this remarkable 
 vessel escapes us. 
 
 The first officer, Lieutenant Robert Kohlen, 
 is described in true seaman's fashion as 5 feet 
 8 inches, fair, long face, twenty-eight years of 
 age, clean shaven, refined. Another officer, as 
 stout, twenty-eight years of age, clean shaven, 
 flushed countenance. 
 
 Another officer, one Kohl, known as "the 
 technical officer,' ' or, quaintly, as the "explo- 
 sives expert," seems to have been a talker. 
 He boasted that he had invented the mine which 
 blew up H.M.S. King Edward VII. 
 
THE RAIDER US 
 
 Lieutenant Berg, described as a most cour- 
 teous officer, sharp-featured, with a small black 
 moustache, was subsequently placed in com- 
 mand of the prize crew in the Appam. 
 
 There seem to have been four lieutenants and 
 a doctor besides the captain and first officer. 
 Officers and men wore German naval uniform. 
 
 Such was the ship, such were the officers, as 
 observed by various British masters and men 
 under painful conditions. 
 
 While the master and the crew of the Far- 
 ringford were sitting under the armed guard 
 on the 'tween-decks of the Raider, the Corbridge 
 was desperately piling on coal in the hope of 
 escaping a like catastrophe, or, for aught her 
 people knew, worse. Within half an hour after 
 she had sighted the Far ring ford and saw the 
 Raider's attack, the Corbridge was spurred by 
 a shot, whistling over her funnel. During the 
 next three-quarters of an hour projectiles ar- 
 rived at intervals, the Raider, which was over- 
 hauling her quarry, being then three or four 
 miles astern. At ten minutes past five, the mas- 
 ter of the Corbridge stopped. By this time it 
 was dark, and it was impossible to discern what 
 colours the strange vessel was flying. 
 
 But the master of the Corbridge had been un- 
 der the stranger's fire; he had seen her attack, 
 and conjectured that she had sunk another ves- 
 sel; and he knew that the stranger's speed was 
 superior to his own. It was clear, therefore, 
 that the stranger was an armed German cruiser ; 
 that she could sink the Corbridge at anything 
 up to five miles' range; and that she could 
 
114. THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 close on the Corbridge at will. He could not 
 fight the German, not having the wherewithal, 
 nor could he perceive any reasonable chance of 
 escape. He was confronted with the inevi- 
 table. So he stopped and accepted it with the 
 seaman's stoicism. 
 
 A signal lamp winked a question upon the 
 dark: "What ship?" The master signalled 
 ' ' Corbridge. ' ' Then the stranger flashed • * Ger- 
 man cruiser. Abandon ship immediately. ' ' 
 
 The master made his preparations according- 
 ly. Half an hour later a boat drew alongside, and 
 a German officer with an armed party climbed on 
 board. The officer took the ship's papers and 
 the master's chronometer, for which he kindly 
 gave the master a receipt, and ordered him to 
 go on board the German ship, with his crew. 
 
 The ship's company of the Corbridge num- 
 bered twenty-six; of which thirteen were Brit- 
 ish, two were naturalised British, three were 
 Finns, four were Greeks, three were Scandina- 
 vians, and one was a Spaniard. 
 
 The German officer seems to have called for 
 volunteers to serve under him, for eight of the 
 foreign seamen agreed to sign on for two pounds 
 a month more than they had been receiving from 
 the owners of the Corbridge. The four Greeks, 
 the three Scandinavians, and the Spaniard re- 
 mained in the Corbridge in the German service, 
 to work the ship with the German prize crew. 
 The master, and eighteen of the crew, went on 
 board the Raider, taking such personal effects 
 as they could carry. The German officer sent 
 some of the Corbridge' 's live stock to the Raider. 
 
THE RAIDER 115 
 
 To the master of the Farringford, then, sitting 
 on the dark 'tween-decks with his crew, entered 
 the master of the Corbridge with his men. What 
 they said to one another is not recorded. Prob- 
 ably "Up against it, then?" and probably they 
 proceeded to exchange narratives. 
 
 At some period of the sojourn of the master 
 of the Corbridge in the Raider, the pleasant offi- 
 cer called the Explosives Expert showed to the 
 master a box containing bombs, possibly hand- 
 grenades, which, said the Explosives Expert, 
 would be used were any attempt made by the 
 captives to take the Raider. 
 
 For the time being the Raider and the Cor- 
 bridge proceeded in company. On that Tues- 
 day, January 11th, 1916, the Raider thus set 
 two ships to her score. 
 
 On the following day, Wednesday, at five 
 o'clock in the afternoon, the Corbridge parted 
 company. 
 
 The captives were allowed to come on deck 
 for exercise for two hours in the morning and 
 two hours in the afternoon, unless another ves- 
 sel was sighted, when they were kept below. 
 Each man had mattress and blankets. For 
 breakfast, they had brown bread and butter 
 and tea; for lunch, soup; for tea, more brown 
 bread and butter and tea; for supper, noth- 
 ing. The bread is said to have been good, other 
 victuals not so good, but sufficient. They were 
 furnished with tin plates, spoons and cups. 
 
 On Thursday, January 13th, the second day 
 after the taking of the Corbridge and Farring- 
 fordy about noon, the captives heard the report 
 
116 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 of a gun overhead. Was another hapless Brit- 
 ish ship being held up? They waited. Pres- 
 ently they heard three distant blasts of a steam 
 whistle, and after an interval down to the 
 'twe en-decks came twenty men from the 
 Dromonby. A little later, down came the master. 
 
 The master told his story. It was the usual 
 story. He was steaming at eight knots when he 
 sighted a ship off the starboard bow. She was 
 flying no colours. She hoisted the signal ' ' What 
 ship?" To which the Dromonby replied, giving 
 her name. Then, "Stop and abandon ship." 
 Up went the German ensign, and a shot cried 
 over the Dromonby. The report of the gun 
 fetched the master out of his cabin to the 
 bridge, whence he beheld an armed ship close to. 
 The master put the Dromonby astern and blew 
 three blasts on the whistle. The master ordered 
 the crew into the boats, burned his confidential 
 papers, and stood by his ship. A boarding 
 party from the Raider came on board and 
 searched the ship. They were looking for a 
 gun, for which the ship was fitted, but which was 
 not there. The Germans were very anxious 
 about that gun. They opened the sea-cocks, 
 placed three bombs in the ship's vitals, and re- 
 turned to the Raider, carrying the master with 
 them. 
 
 While he was relating these matters to his 
 fellow-prisoners, there came the muffled sound 
 of three distant explosions, and the crack of 
 three gunshots fired overhead. And that was 
 the end of the Dromonby. 
 
 Our friend the Explosives Expert afterwards 
 
THE RAIDER 117 
 
 told the master of the Dromoriby that the 
 Raider carried six-inch guns. But the master's 
 observation of the ammunition did not confirm 
 the statement of the Explosives Expert. 
 
 That Thursday was a busy day for the Raider. 
 She was picking ships from the Atlantic trade 
 route from morn to night. 
 
 At about five in the afternoon the prisoners 
 below heard a clatter and a running to and fro 
 on deck, and the splash of boats going away. 
 Another ship? They waited and listened, until 
 down came the master and the ship's company 
 of the Author, eleven British and forty-seven 
 Lascars. 
 
 The master of the Author told his story. It 
 was the same in substance as the others. But 
 he mentioned that the German officer in com- 
 mand of the boarding party returned to the 
 master his chronometer, saying that he did not 
 desire personal property. In respecting pri- 
 vate property the German officer followed the 
 code of Captain Raphael Semmes; but in re- 
 spect of the chronometer, there was a difference, 
 for Semmes used to collect chronometers. The 
 Alabama was stocked with them. The German 
 officer kept a bull-dog which was a passenger 
 in the Author, but the bull-dog was really cargo. 
 He also took food, live-stock, the ship's instru- 
 ments, and the boats. The Raider then sank 
 the Author. The forty-seven Lascars were 
 berthed aft, put to work, and were ultimately 
 retained by the Raider. 
 
 The master of the Author came on board the 
 Raider about five o'clock on that Thursday, 
 
118 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 joining the mess of the masters of the Farring- 
 ford, Corbridge, and Dromoriby. Two hours 
 later the master of the Trader was added to the 
 party. He saw his ship sunk while he was in 
 his boat, pulling across to the Raider. The 
 Trader was laden with sugar. Her crew con- 
 sisted of twenty-two British, six Swedes, one 
 Norwegian, one Russian, one Malay and one 
 American; all came on board the Raider, and 
 all lacked their personal effects, which they had 
 no time to collect. 
 
 On the following day, Friday, January 14th, 
 1916, nothing happened. 
 
 On Saturday, 15th January, the game began 
 early, with the arrival on board at seven in the 
 morning of the master and ship's company of 
 the Ariadne. The Raider was becoming 
 crowded, having on board by this time the offi- 
 cers and men of the Farringford, Corbridge, 
 Dromonby, Trader and Ariadne, like a new 
 house-that-Jack-built. But relief was on its 
 way, as the German officers (according to their 
 own statement) knew. 
 
 ii 
 
 The Taking of the " Appam" 
 
 On that Saturday the Appam, homeward- 
 bound, was steering to pass 100 miles west of 
 Cape Finisterre. She was an Elder Dempster 
 liner of 4,761 tons net, carrying a crew number- 
 ing about 144, and 158 passengers, including 
 naval and military officers, and ladies, and some 
 German prisoners. She also carried bullion to 
 
THE RAIDER 119 
 
 the value of £36,000. She was fitted with wire- 
 less and mounted a gun. 
 
 At about half-past two in the afternoon the 
 second officer, who was on watch, perceiving a 
 cargo-boat of unusual appearance approaching, 
 altered course to turn away from her. The 
 stranger immediately made a signal ordering 
 the Appam to stop, and her wireless operator 
 to cease sending. The master, going on the 
 bridge, and perceiving the stranger to hoist the 
 German ensign, obeyed. The Eaider fired a 
 shot across the bows of the Appam and then 
 across her stern, approached, and lowered 
 a boat with an officer and armed crew on board. 
 She was within 200 yards of the Appam, her 
 shutters dropped and her guns visible. The 
 master described this spectacle as "a great 
 shock" to him, as no doubt it was. 
 
 The officer and men boarded the Appam, to 
 the intense interest of the passengers. Lieuten- 
 ant Berg, the German officer in command, went 
 up on the bridge and conversed with the mas- 
 ter. The lieutenant courteously requested all 
 information concerning the ship; ordered the 
 purser to bring to him the ship's papers, put 
 the master under arrest, and told him to pack 
 his things and repair aboard the Raider, tak- 
 ing with him the officers and the deck hands. 
 
 Thus did the master join his colleagues in the 
 Raider that Saturday afternoon. 
 
 In the meantime a naval seaman on board the 
 Appam called for volunteers, and led them to 
 dismantle the gun. They managed to dislocate 
 
120 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 part of the gear when the Germans stopped 
 them, and hove the gun overboard. 
 
 The women on board, perceiving the Raider, 
 put on life-belts, a precaution which pained 
 Lieutenant Berg, who addressed them with ut- 
 most politeness. 
 
 "It hurts me," said Lieutenant Berg, "to see 
 you ladies in these things. Please take them 
 off. You will be quite safe. We are not going 
 to sink a ship with women on board. ' ' 
 
 That chivalrous officer had indeed other uses 
 for the Appam, which was to serve as escort to 
 the Raider. Lieutenant Berg proceeded to 
 make his arrangements. He took from arrest 
 the German prisoners on board, armed them, 
 and, to their deep disgust, put them on guard 
 duty. He presented to the civilian passengers 
 of military age a form of declaration that they 
 would not take up arms against Germany or her 
 Allies during the war, and requested them to 
 sign it. One man, who refused, was sent on 
 board the Raider. The bullion on board was 
 transferred to the Raider. The naval and mili- 
 tary passengers on board the Appam, the naval 
 ratings, and Sir Edward Merewether, ex-Gov- 
 ernor of Sierra Leone, were transferred to the 
 Raider. 
 
 The master of the Appam, coming on board 
 the Raider, remarked that her crew were paint- 
 ing her upper works white, and that her hull 
 was black, the paint being still wet. The cap- 
 tain of the Raider informed the master that if 
 the Appam had attempted to escape or to use 
 her wireless, she would have been sunk. Then 
 
THE RAIDER 121 
 
 the master was sent below, where he found his 
 fellow captains, crowded together in the foul 
 and airless 'tween-decks. 
 
 For the time being the Appam, in charge of 
 Lieutenant Berg and a prize crew, remained in 
 company with the Raider. 
 
 The next day, Sunday, January 16th, in the 
 late afternoon, the master and some of the 
 other prisoners in the Raider were on deck, 
 when they perceived smoke on the horizon. 
 They were promptly ordered below. The 
 Raider increased her speed. The ship sighted 
 was the famous Clan Mactavish. 
 
 in 
 The Fight of the "Clem Mactavish" 
 
 The Raider was keeping the Appam in com- 
 pany, under the command of Lieutenant Berg 
 with a prize crew, so that in attack both ships 
 could be employed. The Germans had dis- 
 mounted the gun on board the Appam, but the 
 prize crew were armed; and, for all that the 
 ship attacked could tell, both ships carried guns. 
 When, for instance, the Clan Mactavish was at- 
 tacked, the master had to reckon with the pos- 
 sibility of the second ship in sight also opening 
 fire, a circumstance which should be remem- 
 bered. 
 
 Thus, at half -past four on that fine Sunday 
 afternoon, the chief officer of the Clan Mactav- 
 ish sighted two steamers some distance away on 
 the port side. Both were steering the same 
 course. About half an hour later the chief offi- 
 
122 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 cer noticed that one ship altered course 
 towards him, while the other made as if to pass 
 astern of him, though, as he subsequently dis- 
 covered, her real intention was to head him off. 
 At half -past five the third officer came on the 
 bridge, and the chief officer pointed out to him 
 the two steamers, among others which were 
 then in sight. Twenty minutes later, when it 
 was falling dusk, as one of the suspicious ves- 
 sels was rapidly closing the Clan Mactavish, 
 she called up the Clan Mactavish by a Morse 
 lamp, and was answered. Then the stranger 
 signalled "What ship is that!" 
 
 At this point the chief officer reported the 
 situation to the master, who ordered that no 
 reply should be made. The stranger repeated 
 her question. The master then signalled back 
 i i Who are you 1 ' ' to which the stranger replied, 
 "Author, of Liverpool" (that vessel had been 
 sent to the bottom on the preceding Thursday). 
 The master in return signalled "Clan Mactav- 
 ish/' Then the stranger, who by this time 
 was abaft the beam of the Clan Mactavish, 
 signalled "Stop at once. We are a German 
 cruiser. Don't use wireless." 
 
 The master of the Clan Mactavish acted in- 
 stantly. He ordered the engine-room staff to 
 give all possible speed and the wireless opera- 
 tor to send out the ship's call letters and her 
 position. Then he ran to look out the code 
 signals he wanted. 
 
 The Eaider dropped her gun-screens and 
 opened fire at a range of about 300 yards. The 
 second shot entered the steward's room on the 
 
THE RAIDER 123 
 
 port side, bursting on contact and blowing to 
 pieces the steward's room and the second offi- 
 cer's room. 
 
 At this moment the master was busy looking 
 out signals; the firemen below were piling on 
 coal; the wireless operator was sending con- 
 tinuously; the gunner was standing by the 
 bridge and asking for orders, while the Raider 
 went on firing. The chief officer went to the 
 master, who told him to reply to the enemy, 
 whereupon the gunner opened fire upon her, 
 the apprentice running to and fro with ammu- 
 nition. 
 
 It was a short action and a sharp. The Raider 
 got in eleven rounds, the Clan Mactavish four or 
 five. The Clan Mactavish was hit on the fore- 
 deck beside the windlass, then on the water-line. 
 Her engines stopped. Then a shell entered the 
 engine-room skylight, smashed the steering- 
 engine, killed fifteen coloured firemen and 
 wounded four, and filled the engine-room with 
 scalding steam. The Clan Mactavish was done. 
 She signalled, but apparently the Raider failed 
 to read the lamp, for the Raider fired another 
 round. Then the Raider ceased fire and sig- 
 nalled that she was sending a boat. 
 
 Presently two German officers with an armed 
 crew of seven men came on board. One of the 
 officers asked the master the characteristically 
 German question why he fired, to which the 
 master replied, to defend himself. 
 
 The German officers then lined up the Euro- 
 peans on deck, and ordered the native comple- 
 
124* THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 ment into the boats. There stood the officers 
 and men of the Clan Mactavish, amid the 
 splinters and wreckage and blood, the steam 
 still hissing into the dark from the engine-room, 
 and contemplated their armed guard and the 
 proceedings of their captors. The German offi- 
 cers told the people of the Clan Mactavish that 
 if they moved they would be shot. So they 
 stood still, while the Germans destroyed the 
 gun, and sent the ship's carpenter to sound the 
 well. At first there was no water, but a little 
 after it was coming in, probably through the 
 hole in the water-line. 
 
 The people of the Clan Mactavish were or- 
 dered into the boats, two of which were directed 
 to go to the Raider and two to the Appam. The 
 master and the two gunners went to the Raider, 
 where they were treated as prisoners of war ; a 
 correct procedure, inasmuch as in resisting cap- 
 ture they became combatants. 
 
 The Clan Mactavish was sunk, probably by 
 bombs. The explosion occurred about 8.30. 
 She sank slowly. The third officer, half an hour 
 later, saw the last of his ship. Her decks were 
 awash, and the red ensign was flying. 
 
 In the meantime the British prisoners on 
 board the Raider, huddled on the 'tween-deck, 
 hearkened to the guns, not without emotion. 
 It occurred to them that if the Raider's antag- 
 onist was a ship of war, they might expect the 
 Raider to go down with them. In any case, at 
 any moment a shell might burst on the 'tween- 
 decks. But it was speedily evident that the 
 
THE RAIDER 125 
 
 guns of the Eaider were overpowering the other 
 vessel. 
 
 And in due time the officers and men of the 
 Clan Mactavish joined the party. The third 
 engineer was slightly wounded. 
 
 Did the Clan Mactavish hit the Raider! 
 Probably she did. The Germans were naturally 
 reticent on the subject. But the Raider stopped 
 at midnight for a time, and the coolies among 
 the prisoners aboard, who had been set to work, 
 told the chief officer of the Clan Mactavish that 
 two Germans were then buried. Lieutenant 
 Berg seems to have told an American news- 
 paper that one German was killed and two were 
 wounded. 
 
 Admiral Sir John Jellicoe, who was then in 
 command of the Grand Fleet, when the first 
 news of the fight came to him, telegraphed to 
 the owners of the Clan Mactavish: 
 
 "The magnificent fight shown by the Clan 
 Mactavish fills us in the Grand Fleet with ad- 
 miration. We sympathise deeply with those who 
 have lost relatives as a result of the action." 
 
 The master of the Clan Mactavish did not 
 know how many guns the Raider mounted. 
 What he did know was that he was heavily out- 
 matched, and that he might also be attacked 
 by the second ship. But at close range, even 
 with his light gun, he may have reckoned that 
 he had a sporting chance. But very likely he 
 did not reckon at all, but simply resolved not to 
 be taken without a fight. When he comes back 
 from Germany, where he is a prisoner of war, 
 he may tell us. 
 
126 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 IV 
 
 The " Appam" as Prize 
 
 On the morning of the day following the 
 sinking of the Clan Mactavish, Monday, Janu- 
 ary 17th, 1916, the Raider and the Appam were 
 proceeding westwards at full speed. In the 
 afternoon the prisoners on board the Raider, 
 excepting the people of the Clan Mactavish, 
 received orders to prepare to leave the ship. 
 The masters of the Corbridge, Far ring ford, 
 Dromoriby, Author, Trader, Appam and Ari- 
 adne were summoned to the presence of the cap- 
 tain of the Raider, Count Donna, who received 
 them in the chart-room. That officer informed 
 the captives of his bow and spear that they were 
 to be transhipped to the Appam, Count Dohna 
 then read to them the instructions he had given 
 to Lieutenant Berg, in command of the Appam, 
 These were to the effect that if the prisoners 
 made the slightest attempt at riot or mutiny, 
 the Appam would instantly be blown up; that 
 if an enemy (Allied) cruiser attacked the Ap- 
 pam the prisoners, if time allowed, would be 
 put into boats, when the ship would be de- 
 stroyed ; for, said the Count, she was in charge 
 of men who would sacrifice their lives rather 
 than she should be retaken. All being well, the 
 Count added, the masters and crews would be 
 taken to a safe port. Having made an end of his 
 plain statement, Count Dohna shook hands all 
 round and signified that the audience was over. 
 
 At four o'clock that afternoon the masters 
 and men of the seven vessels were sent across 
 
THE RAIDER 127 
 
 to the Appam. With them were a part of the 
 crew of the Clan Mactavish, the passenger, "a 
 Birmingham man," who had refused to sign the 
 declaration of neutrality, and Sir Edward Mere- 
 wether. The transhipment was finished by 6.30. 
 
 The prisoners on board the Appam were 
 guarded by the German ex-prisoners. They 
 were allowed the run of the ship below the boat- 
 deck, and were classified as first, second and 
 third-class passengers, and had "no complaints, 
 but not too much to eat. ' ' It was no doubt the 
 impossibility of feeding so large a number, and 
 the inconvenience of keeping them on board a 
 fighting ship, that decided the commander of 
 the Raider to ship them off in the Appam to a 
 neutral port. In so doing he acted with human- 
 ity, for he must have known that he was risking 
 the internment of his prize when she touched 
 America. With German forethought and pre- 
 cision the Appam was dispatched at the moment 
 when the amount of rations left would just en- 
 able her to reach port. One of the masters re- 
 ported that when they fetched up, there was 
 very little left, but ' ' no one looked any the worse 
 for it." 
 
 The engineer on board the Appam was or- 
 dered to keep nine knots. If smoke was sighted, 
 the Appam turned away from it to avoid pur- 
 suit and increased her speed. Her wireless 
 operator was constantly at work. In case of 
 emergency a bomb was placed in the engine- 
 room in charge of two sentries. 
 
 For twenty-four hours the Appam kept in 
 
128 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 company with the Raider, which then dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 On February 1st, 1916, after a fortnight's 
 voyage, the Appam arrived in Hampton Roads, 
 U.S.A. On the following day the British masters 
 were allowed to go on shore to see the British 
 naval attache. The next day, after various 
 formalities, the Appam went to Newport News, 
 where the British prisoners were set free. They 
 parted from Lieutenant Berg on excellent terms. 
 According to their testimony, the politeness of 
 the Germans throughout was "most marked.' ' 
 
 The released captives went to New York. It 
 must have been a pleasant change. 
 
 On July 29th following, the Federal Court of 
 Norfolk, Virginia, decided the case of the Ap- 
 pam in favour of the British owners, holding 
 that the German Government lost all legal claim 
 upon the Appam when she was brought into 
 neutral waters with the intention of laying her 
 up for an indefinite period. 
 
 v 
 
 Subsequent Glimpses of the Raider 
 
 After parting company with the Appam, the 
 Raider steered for the mouth of the Amazon, 
 where she arrived towards the end of January. 
 On January 27th the Corbridge, which had beon 
 captured on the 11th and placed in charge of a 
 prize crew, arrived according to instructions; 
 and during the three following days the Raider 
 was coaling from her. On January 30th the 
 Raider sank the Corbridge, and so departed. 
 
THE RAIDER 129 
 
 By February 9th the steamships Horace and 
 Flamenco, the sailing ship Edinburgh, and the 
 Belgian steamship Luxembourg were put down, 
 and the steamship Westbum was captured and 
 put in charge of a prize crew. On February 9th 
 the chief officer and others of the people of the 
 Clan Mactavish were sent on board the West- 
 burn and were subsequently landed at Teneriffe. 
 
 The captain and the two naval gunners and 
 the Lascars of the Clan Mactavish were kept on 
 board the Raider. 
 
 On February 23rd, the Raider sank the West- 
 burn in Spanish territorial waters. 
 
 On February 25th the Raider sank the Saxon 
 Prince. Three days later the Raider was in the 
 North Sea, her funnels transformed from grey 
 to yellow with black tops, and the Swedish 
 colours blazoned on either side the hull. 
 
 Early in March the Raider entered a German 
 port. 
 
 According to the statement made by the First 
 Lord of the Admiralty on March 28th, 1916, the 
 toll of British ships captured or sunk by the 
 Raider is as follows: Farrmgford, Corbridge, 
 Author, Bromonby, Trader, Clan Mactavish, 
 Horace, Flamenco, Edinburgh, Saxon Prince, 
 Westbum, Appam. To these must be added 
 the Ariadne and the Belgian steamship Luxem- 
 bourg. 
 
 The English admire nothing so much as the 
 success of an enemy. 
 
XIV 
 
 A Gallant Warning 
 
 On a pleasant May morning in the year 1916 
 a company assembled in a room of the Eoyal 
 Naval Reserve barracks of a South Coast port 
 Here were officers and men of the Royal Navy 
 and of the mercantile marine, come to do honour 
 to a merchant ship master. That officer had 
 been as near to death as may be ; not (you will 
 say) an unusual circumstance; but he dared 
 everything to save others. Therefore you may 
 behold with the inward eye of retrospection a 
 commander of the Royal Navy handing a gold 
 watch to the embarrassed master, who is not 
 accustomed to these ceremonies, and who finds 
 a difficulty in discovering the right responses in 
 the ritual. 
 
 The commander explains that, as the legend 
 engraven on the watch testifies, it is presented 
 to the master "by the London Group of War 
 Risk Associations, with the approval of the 
 Admiralty, in recognition of his efforts to save 
 other ships from contact with German mines on 
 February 12th, 1916.' ' 
 
 And how did the master do it? 
 
 130 
 
A GALLANT WARNING 131 
 
 He was taking the little steamship Cedarwood 
 down the East Coast, bound for France laden 
 with pig-iron. There was half a gale of wind, 
 and there was a choppy sea. It was about ten 
 o 'clock in the morning when the look-out seaman 
 perceived a floating mine. Off the starboard 
 bow the bright scarlet of the mine gleamed in 
 and out the waves. Now where there is one 
 mine there are probably others, especially if 
 they are sown by an enemy submarine in the 
 coastwise track of shipping; and there were 
 some fifteen vessels steaming at various dis- 
 tances astern of the Cedarwood. 
 
 The master did not hesitate for an instant. 
 He eased down, hoisted flags signifying " sub- 
 marine mines are about,' ' and made the same 
 signal with steam whistle. Then he steamed in 
 a circle about the mine, in order both to attract 
 a patrol boat and to show to the ships following 
 him where was the danger. 
 
 Thus the master swung the Cedarwood 
 through the circle which was almost certain to 
 intersect the line of mines, if other mines there 
 were. And if there were, they would be moored 
 out of sight at a depth beneath the surface 
 nicely calculated to strike the hull of the Cedar- 
 wood. So small a vessel striking a mine would 
 be blown to atoms. 
 
 Nevertheless the master continued to circum- 
 navigate the scarlet floating mine for about a 
 quarter of an hour. 
 
 "At about 10.20 a.m.," so runs the master's 
 report, l ' I was on the bridge together with the 
 mate, when I heard a terrible explosion, and the 
 
132 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 fore end of the ship seemed to go up in the air, 
 also some of the pig-iron cargo, at the same time 
 where I was standing (the upper bridge) seemed 
 to fall underneath me. I did not see the mate 
 again, and was sucked down with the ship, and 
 I have a recollection of getting hold of the 
 flagstaff on the stern, therefore I must have been 
 carried right aft with the force of the water. ' ' 
 
 This simple statement is singularly illuminat- 
 ing. The tremendous shock and paralysing in- 
 stancy of the explosion inhibit verification by 
 the senses of what is happening. Therefore the 
 master says the fore end of the ship "seemed" 
 to go up in the air, and the bridge "seemed" to 
 fall under him. As a matter of fact both these 
 things did happen, and they happened simulta- 
 neously. The master partially lost consciousness, 
 for he did not remember being swept aft, buried 
 in water. He thinks he must have been so swept, 
 because he recalls clutching the flagstaff astern. 
 It would seem, therefore, that an explosion par- 
 tially or wholly paralyses consciousness, and 
 most often effects an instant annihilation. 
 
 The master was drawn down with the frag- 
 ments of the ship, smashed machinery and 
 masses of pig-iron. He struggled to the surface, 
 saw a hatch floating, swam to it, and clung to it. 
 Then, over the breaking sea, he perceived the 
 stern of a steamer, and a white boat surging 
 towards him. He saw the men in the boat haul 
 first one man and then another from the water, 
 and then he was helped on board. On the way 
 back the boat picked up another seaman who 
 was floating on a piece of wreckage, and the 
 
A GALLANT WARNING 133 
 
 four soaked, dazed and shivering men were 
 brought on board the steamer, where ' l they were 
 all very kindly treated. ' ' In the meantime two 
 more men were rescued by another steamer. 
 Both these vessels, with the rest sailing on that 
 route, had been saved by the sacrifice of the 
 Cedarwood. Six men, including the master, 
 were rescued; six were drowned. 
 
 The next day, Sunday, early in the morning, 
 there rose upon the master's grateful vision the 
 grey spire of Gravesend Church, known to sea- 
 men all the world over as the half-way mark be- 
 tween the Nore and Port of London ; and the hill 
 of huddled red-roofed houses, and the water- 
 men coming alongside in their black wherries. 
 
 Presently the master landed beside the old 
 taverns leaning upon one another along the 
 river-wall, and trod once more the grey stones 
 of the deserted streets, sunk in Sunday quiet. 
 
XV 
 
 The Fight of the "Goldmouth" 
 
 The wireless operator lay in hospital, because 
 his foot had been blown off, and beside his bed, 
 writing down his statements, sat a naval officer. 
 "The last message received was in code, which 
 I took to the captain on the bridge to be decoded, 
 but this was not done owing to the fact that the 
 captain had thrown overboard the code-book, 
 the vessel being then in imminent danger of 
 capture. ' ' 
 
 Such, in fact, was the situation on board the 
 Goldmouth on the afternoon of March 31st, 1916. 
 She was homeward bound, carrying oil, and was 
 within some hours of the Channel, steaming 
 about ten knots. At about twenty minutes to 
 one the master descried the conning tower of 
 a submarine rising out of the water some three 
 miles away on the starboard beam, and ap- 
 proaching the Goldmouth. Ten minutes after- 
 wards the submarine opened fire. 
 
 Then began a running fight waged furiously 
 for more than an hour. The submarine, mount- 
 ing two guns, fired about ten rounds a minute, 
 at a range longer than the range of the single 
 small gun carried by the Goldmouth. 
 
 134 
 
THE FIGHT OF THE "GOLDMOUTH" 135 
 
 The master hoisted his colours half-mast, and 
 gave the order to open fire. Thereafter the two 
 gunners of the Goldmouth served their little gun 
 as best they might, under the continuous fire of 
 the submarine. A shell smashed half the bridge 
 of the Goldmouth, another pierced the deck and 
 exploded in an oil tank, the officers' cabins 
 were wrecked, the hull was pierced in several 
 places, and the oil oozed through the holes and 
 spread upon the sea. Soon after the fight began, 
 the main steam pipe was damaged and the speed 
 of the Goldmouth dropped to three or four 
 knots. 
 
 So the stricken vessel, firing about once a 
 minute, crawled through the spreading surface 
 of oil, splinters flying, shot after shot striking 
 her. The master remained on the bridge. The 
 wireless operator, true to his service, continued 
 to send out calls for help. He worked under 
 great disabilities. Amid the incessant firing, it 
 was almost impossible to hear the answers he 
 received. But answers were sent from a distant 
 patrol vessel. She was too far away to arrive 
 in time to help the Goldmouth, but she seems to 
 have signalled in plain language the course the 
 Goldmouth was to steer. The code messages could 
 not be accurately decoded because the master 
 had thrown overboard his confidential papers. 
 
 Towards the end of the affair the wireless 
 operator had his foot blown off. It is extraor- 
 dinary that the only other casualty was the loss 
 of a finger suffered by a Chinaman. 
 
 By a little after two o'clock the gunners of 
 the Goldmouth had expended the whole of their 
 
U6 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 ammunition. Outranged and out-gunned, they 
 had not scored a single hit. The Goldmouth 
 was totally disabled. Having done all that it 
 was possible to do, the master decided to aban- 
 don his ship. 
 
 The chief officer stated in evidence that he 
 considered "the master complied with Admir- 
 alty instructions and took all possible steps to 
 avoid being captured or sunk. The ship's speed 
 was greatly reduced owing to steam-pipe being 
 hit by shells, and she was outdistanced by the 
 submarine. The ship was hopelessly outclassed 
 in guns, and only stopped firing when all ammu- 
 nition had been expended and ship disabled." 
 
 Such is the official testimony, officially 
 phrased. The master's evidence is not avail- 
 able, for a reason which will appear. 
 
 He ordered the crew into boats. There were 
 only two left, a lifeboat and a smaller boat. 
 Three lifeboats and a smaller boat had been 
 smashed by shells. By this time the submarine 
 was close to the Goldmouth. The German 
 officer ordered the boats to come alongside the 
 submarine. The master was haled on board, 
 where the Germans greeted him with curses and 
 threatenings. Many Germans believe that any 
 resistance to their sovereign will is a kind of 
 blasphemy. The commander of the submarine 
 took the master prisoner, and a prisoner he 
 remains. 
 
 The Germans, upon being asked to give first- 
 aid dressings to the wounded wireless operator 
 and the Chinaman, refused. 
 
 The German officer ordered the boats away, 
 
THE FIGHT OF THE "GOLDMOUTH" 137 
 
 and again opened fire on the Goldmouth. He 
 fired sixty rounds, and discharged two tor- 
 pedoes at close range, and so sank the ship. 
 Then he went away. 
 
 The two boats pulled for three hours, when 
 they were rescued by a trawler. 
 
 The crew of the Goldmouth consisted of 
 twelve British and forty-seven Chinamen. ' ' All 
 behaved well, especially the British.' ' 
 
XVI 
 
 The Worth of a Life 
 
 Serene moonlight, and a big cargo-boat roll- 
 ing eastwards midmost of the Mediterranean, 
 the watch on deck savouring the breath of the 
 cool night. It was midnight of July 15th-16th, 
 1916. Save for the murmur of the engines, there 
 was silence, and the darkened and flashing field 
 of water was empty. Then, low down on the 
 surface, there shone a tongue of fire; there 
 came the detonation of a gun, sudden and 
 startling, and a shell whined in the air some- 
 where near the Virginia. The master, who was 
 below in his cabin, ran up to the bridge. 
 
 As the master came up he found the firemen 
 rushing up from the stokehold, and ordered 
 them below again. 
 
 At first the master could see nothing; and, 
 not knowing whence or by whom the shot was 
 fired, he stopped the engines. Then he descried 
 the conning-tower of a submarine five or six 
 hundred yards astern and overhauling him. 
 The master instantly ordered full speed ahead 
 and steered to keep the enemy astern. 
 
 The submarine fired, and continued to fire. 
 
 138 
 
THE WORTH OF A LIFE 189 
 
 Then began a chase in which the submarine, with 
 her high speed and small turning circle, easily- 
 countered the manoeuvres of the hunted ship, 
 keeping steadily on her port quarter. The fire- 
 men stuck to their work, but nine and a half 
 knots was the best the ship could do. Now and 
 again she was hit. The Virginia was unarmed. 
 The master ordered the wireless operator to 
 send the distress call, S.O.S., and he received 
 from some unknown ship the reply "Coming." 
 But no ship came. The master, in case of 
 emergencies, destroyed his confidential papers, 
 and held on. Whether or not some of the crew 
 were wounded during the chase is uncertain. 
 
 After half an hour a shell smashed the funnel, 
 filling the engine-room with soot and ashes, 
 whereupon the engineers and firemen came on 
 deck, and the master decided that the game was 
 up. He stopped the ship and ordered the men 
 into the boats. The submarine continued to fire. 
 
 There was the stricken ship, rolling in a cloud 
 of smoke and steam, the boats rising and falling 
 alongside, the men scrambling down the life- 
 lines, and, beyond, the submarine leisurely fir- 
 ing. The shells struck the ship and the splinters 
 flew among the hurrying men. Ten of them 
 were wounded. 
 
 Twenty-five men got away in three boats and 
 rowed clear of the ship. The fourth boat had 
 been hit and was lying alongside full of water. 
 The master, the chief officer and twenty-three 
 others were left on board to get away as best 
 they might. The chief engineer, the wireless 
 operator and the chief steward, the carpenter 
 
140 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 and a seaman stayed by the master and chief 
 officer and helped them to get the men into the 
 water-logged boat. They were all embarked, as, 
 in the stress and tumult, they believed, except 
 the master and the chief officer, when the master 
 discovered a wounded man of the native crew. 
 The chief officer stayed to help the master lift 
 the helpless man and lower him into the boat. 
 
 At the same time they perceived the white 
 track of a torpedo swiftly lengthening towards 
 the ship, saw it strike the hull, glance off, and 
 turn back. At about sixty yards' distance it 
 exploded, flinging up a column of water. 
 
 The master and the chief officer had lowered 
 the wounded man into the boat, when they saw 
 the track of another torpedo. They were still 
 on board when the torpedo struck the Virginia 
 full under the main rigging, port side, below the 
 water-line, tearing her to pieces. Instantly she 
 settled down, and the master and the chief 
 officer were drawn down with her. But she did 
 not sink at once. The master, struggling to the 
 surface, laid hold on her bows, and drew breath. 
 Then down she went, and down with her again 
 went the master. He came up again and was 
 hauled into the water-logged boat. 
 
 The chief officer was never seen again. He 
 lost his life because he remained with the mas- 
 ter to help him to save the wounded man. 
 
 Exactly what happened to the water-logged 
 and crowded boat lying alongside when the ship 
 went down is not clear. She was drawn down 
 with the ship, but she seems to have kept right 
 side up. In any case, she remained afloat, and 
 
THE WORTH OF A LIFE 141 
 
 an hour and a half afterwards she was picked 
 up by a French patrol boat. 
 
 Whether or not the submarine dived after 
 firing the second torpedo and departing, the 
 master was unable to state, because, as he says, 
 he "was under the water at the time. ,, 
 
 While these things were happening in the 
 Virginia two of the other three boats were 
 standing off, and the third officer in the other 
 boat was ordered by the commander of the 
 submarine to come alongside. The submarine 
 captain asked the third officer for information 
 concerning the ship, and then inquired if there 
 were still people on board her. He then ordered 
 the third officer to bring to him the master and 
 the ship 's papers, giving him thirty minutes to 
 go and come. 
 
 About four minutes after the third officer had 
 left the submarine her commander fired the 
 first torpedo. By that time the French patrol 
 boat was in sight ; and it may be supposed that 
 the submarine officer, seeing the enemy, aban- 
 doned his intention of saving the captain and 
 the rest of the crew, and decided swiftly to end 
 the business. As he did. 
 
 The submarine officers wore blue tunics with 
 high collars, and their caps differed from the 
 German pattern. The men wore jerseys open 
 at the neck. The submarine was new painted 
 grey above her water-line when running awash, 
 and black below. She mounted one gun forward 
 of the conning-tower. Presumably she was 
 Austrian. 
 All the boats of the Virginia were picked up 
 
142 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 ]by the French patrol boat. One of the wounded 
 men died on board her, and was buried at sea. 
 The rescued men " received great kindness" 
 from their French hosts in the patrol vessel. 
 
 In the following September the master was 
 awarded by the Board of Trade a silver medal 
 for having remained on board the sinking vessel 
 in order to rescue a wounded native seaman. 
 
XVII 
 
 The Engineers of the "Yser" 
 
 On the night of July 19th, 1915, the little 
 cargo-boat Yser, on the way from Cette to 
 Gibraltar in ballast, passed a vessel which the 
 captain took to be a merchant vessel, and 
 thought no more about her. At seven o'clock 
 next morning the master saw the conning-tower 
 of a submarine start out of the haze about a 
 mile and a half away on the port bow. Almost 
 at the same moment came the flash and report 
 of her gun. 
 
 The master ordered full steam and fled. The 
 submarine, rapidly overhauling him, fired shot 
 after shot, at intervals of two or three minutes. 
 One projectile flew so close to the master that 
 he was blown backwards with the wind of its 
 passing. Fragments of shell hurtled down upon 
 the bridge and deck. 
 
 During the attack, the steamship which had 
 been passed by the Yser in the night was four 
 or five miles distant, beyond the submarine and 
 astern of the Yser, holding a parallel course. 
 The submarine thought it worth while to fire a 
 shot at her. 
 
 148 
 
144 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 When the submarine was within about half a 
 mile the master of the Yser, considering that 
 the enemy could fire into the ship when he chose, 
 disabling her and killing the crew, decided to 
 abandon ship. So he stopped engines and 
 ordered the boats to be swung out. No sooner 
 had he stopped than the submarine unaccount- 
 ably submerged. Without staying to reflect 
 upon what was the reason for the enemy's 
 manoeuvre, the master instantly seized the 
 chance to escape, and started slow ahead. 
 
 At first it seemed as though the enemy had 
 really gone, and hope gleamed upon the people 
 of the Yser. The chief engineer below, after the 
 sudden cessation of the stress of keeping up full 
 steam and working the engines under fire, had 
 brought his men to it again, and they were again 
 doing their utmost. Until now they had endured 
 that suspense which is the portion of men below 
 during an attack; unable to see what was hap- 
 pening on deck, hearing the incessant reports 
 of gunfire, and momently expecting a shell to 
 burst among them. Now, having brought the 
 ship through during a hot twenty minutes, 
 having been told that their job was done, and 
 having settled to abandon ship, they must begin 
 all over again. And at the orders of the chief 
 engineer they did it. Here is a silent and homely 
 exploit which deserves remembrance, and which 
 makes notable the affair of the Yser. 
 
 But presently the master descried the menac- 
 ing periscope cleaving the surface about a 
 quarter of a mile away on the starboard side. 
 The submarine had gained a quarter of a mile 
 
THE ENGINEERS OF THE "YSER" 145 
 
 in a few minutes. Then the master perceived 
 the track of an approaching torpedo. 
 
 It was now a question of seconds. The master 
 stopped engines and ordered all hands into the 
 boats. The whole of the crew, twenty-five men, 
 got away, and the seven officers were in the act 
 to follow them into the boats when the torpedo 
 struck. The chief officer, descending the life- 
 line, was flung into the sea and sank, dead. The 
 torpedo blew an immense hole right through the 
 ship from side to side. 
 
 The boats pulled away as the ship settled 
 down, and five minutes afterwards she was 
 gone. It was then about half-past seven. 
 
 In the meantime the strange vessel which, 
 during the attack, was steaming four or five 
 miles away from the Yser, and gradually closing 
 her, had disappeared. When the men in the 
 boats had been cruising about for some hours 
 she returned, picked them up and brought them 
 into port. 
 
 From first to last the enemy submarine made 
 no signal and hoisted no colours. 
 
xvm 
 
 Slipping Between 
 
 The case of the Roddam may be cited as an 
 example among thousands of examples of the 
 vigilance of the Admiralty. It is no fault of 
 the Navy that it is unable to give an absolute 
 protection to mariners; they are now obliged 
 to fight in their own defence as best they may; 
 and during the continuance of the war it is 
 impossible to record by what means or in what 
 degree the Navy has defended and saved mer- 
 chant shipping from mine, submarine and 
 cruiser. It must be enough for the present to 
 know that in default of the Navy the losses 
 inflicted by the enemy on the merchant service 
 would be indefinitely multiplied. One might 
 even say that in default of the Navy, ere three 
 years of war were done, there would have been 
 no merchant service. 
 
 The Trade division of the Admiralty has an 
 eye like the Mormon eye. It is omnipresent. It 
 beholds every officer and man, every ship, boat, 
 cargo and gun of the mercantile marine. All 
 that can be done to avert catastrophe is done; 
 in the event of catastrophe, all is saved that 
 
 146 
 
SLIPPING BETWEEN 147 
 
 can be saved, and brought home from the ends 
 of the earth. 
 
 On September 26th, 1916, the cargo-boat 
 Roddam was going home across the north-west 
 Mediterranean, in the area lying between the 
 Balearic Islands and the Spanish coast. In the 
 morning a French torpedo-boat destroyer slid 
 into signalling range and told the master of the 
 Roddam that a submarine had been sighted some 
 hours earlier, in such-and-such a position, steer- 
 ing a course which would bring her towards the 
 R oddam. The ma ster altered course accordingly . 
 
 At half-past two another French destroyer 
 signalled that a submarine had been sighted, 
 and gave the master of the Roddam his course. 
 
 The master obeyed instructions, ordered his 
 two gunners to stand by their gun, kept a strict 
 look-out, and in this state of suspense held on 
 for two hours, in fine clear weather, a fresh 
 breeze and a tumbling, following sea. 
 
 Suddenly came the report of a distant gun, and 
 a shell came over from astern, pitching into the 
 water a ship 's length ahead. The master ran the 
 red ensign to the main, and ordered the gunners 
 to open fire. It was a futile exercise, for the 
 submarine, almost invisible six or seven miles 
 astern, had the range of the Roddam, whose 
 shot fell hopelessly short of the enemy. 
 
 A shell entered the chart-room and passed out 
 through the wheel-house; another pierced the 
 deck of the bridge; others went through the 
 after-deck. 
 
 The master asked the two Eoyal Marine 
 gunners what they thought about it. They 
 
148 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 thought it was perfectly useless to try to hit an 
 enemy who was out of reach, and who could 
 shell the Roddam at leisure. 
 
 The master hauled down his flag, stopped 
 engines, and ordered the boats away. The 
 action had lasted about a quarter of an hour. 
 Within the next fifteen minutes both boats were 
 away. There were eleven people in the port 
 boat, under the command of the chief officer, 
 and seventeen people in the starboard boat, under 
 the command of the master. Both boats sailed 
 to windward. There was a nasty sea, the wind 
 veering and gusty, and the two boats were soon 
 separated by some distance. The chief officer, 
 after cruising for half an hour, perceived the 
 submarine approaching. Coming alongside the 
 master's boat, she stopped, and lay still for 
 about half an hour. The dusk was gathering, and 
 the chief officer was too far away to see details. 
 
 He perceived the submarine to draw near the 
 Roddam and to fire into her fore and aft, until 
 she listed over to starboard and began to settle 
 by the stern. Then the submarine came towards 
 the chief officer, who went about to meet her, but 
 she kept on, and so disappeared into the dark. 
 By this time both the Roddam and the master's 
 boat were invisible. The chief officer handled 
 his boat so that she might five through the gale, 
 suiting his course to the weather. 
 
 In the meantime, when the submarine was 
 approaching the master's boat, flying a small 
 Austrian ensign on her periscope, the submarine 
 officer ordered the master's boat alongside, and 
 standing on the conning-tower clad in oilskins, 
 
SLIPPING BETWEEN 149 
 
 revolver in hand, shouted, " Where's the cap- 
 tain 1 ' ' The master 's boat, on coming alongside 
 the submarine in a lop of sea, stove in several 
 strakes upon the submarine 's handrail. Five or 
 six Austrian seamen, dressed in brown overalls, 
 were on the deck of the submarine. 
 
 The Austrian officer ordered the master to 
 come on board, and asked the usual question: 
 "Why did you fire!" He demanded the ship's 
 papers, and the master gave him a wallet, which 
 contained some old and valueless account sheets. 
 His confidential papers had been thrown over- 
 board in a weighted bag. 
 
 The submarine officer said, "I suppose you 
 know you are a prisoner of wart" and pointed 
 to the hatch. The master, who seems to have 
 held his peace during the interrogation, silently 
 disappeared through the hatch and was no more 
 seen. (Fortunately the two gunners were in the 
 other boat, and so escaped capture.) 
 
 The command of the starboard boat then 
 devolved upon the second officer. The captain 
 of the submarine seems to have left the subse- 
 quent conduct of the affair to the lieutenant, who 
 was courteous enough. As the starboard boat of 
 the Roddam was damaged, he allowed the second 
 officer to return to his ship to get another. 
 
 "I give you a good chance to go on board," 
 said he, and towed the starboard boat back to 
 the Roddam, The lieutenant stipulated that no 
 one was to go on the gun platform, told the 
 second officer he was to steer north-north-west, 
 and stood clear. 
 
 The second officer, who had been slightly 
 
150 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 wounded during the attack, climbed on board the 
 forlorn and broken ship. Hurried and shaken 
 as he was, he searched among the wreckage for 
 the ship's papers in case they had not been 
 destroyed, but it was impossible to find anything 
 among the ruins. 
 
 Then he got away the motor-boat and put 
 eight persons into her, the other eight remaining 
 in the damaged starboard boat, and laid his 
 course for the mainland, which was some thirty- 
 five miles distant. 
 
 As the two boats receded the darkness astern 
 was cloven by the flashes of the guns of the 
 submarine as she fired into the deserted ship. 
 
 All three boats were now adrift in a gale, the 
 chief officer's boat being separated from the 
 other two. For the time being the eye of the 
 Admiralty lost sight of them. But not for long. 
 About one o'clock in the morning the chief 
 officer, struggling to keep the boat alive in a 
 heavy sea and with a shifting wind, burned red 
 flares to call the other boats. The second officer 
 answered with red flares; but in that weather 
 the chief officer could not reach the other boats, 
 and did not, in fact, see them again. 
 
 At daylight he made sail and steered for the 
 mainland. After sailing for three or four hours 
 he sighted a steamer, and steered for her, mak- 
 ing signals of distress. At about half -past nine 
 the boat was picked up by a neutral vessel, 
 which landed the chief officer's party at Valen- 
 cia. So much for one boat. 
 
 The second officer's party, at daylight, were 
 within fifteen or twenty miles of land, which 
 
SLIPPING BETWEEN 151 
 
 was visible. Their progress towards it in that 
 weather was very slow ; and at noon they were 
 picked up by a French man-of-war, which landed 
 them at Marseilles. 
 
 On the following day the Admiralty knew 
 that the chief officer's party had been landed at 
 Valencia, that the master was a prisoner, and 
 that the second officer's party had been picked 
 up by the French man-of-war aforesaid. But 
 where the second officer's party had been landed 
 the Admiralty, owing to some telegraphic con- 
 fusion, did not then know. Immediately a 
 number of persons in various parts of the world 
 understood that the Admiralty wanted to know 
 and intended to find out. Nor was it long before 
 the Admiralty had accounted for every man of 
 the Boddam, not to mention her boats. And 
 eventually there came to the Admiralty informa- 
 tion that the captive master was alive and well. 
 
 The master, like many another British master, 
 knew that in fighting his ship, as in duty bound, 
 with the weapons provided, he had but the 
 slightest chance of defeating the enemy, and he 
 also knew that if his ship was taken he would 
 be made a prisoner of war. A ship too slow tp 
 escape, a target too small to hit, and prison in 
 front of him; such at that time was the pre- 
 dicament of the mercantile marine master. He 
 tried to escape, and was overhauled ; he fought, 
 and was outmatched ; and so to prison. 
 
 The Boddam slipped between the protection 
 of the French patrol and luck. 
 
XIX 
 
 Heavy Weather 
 
 The submarine prefers to attack in fine 
 weather. It is pleasanter for all parties con- 
 cerned, and much easier. The reports usually 
 record weather fine and clear, light airs, slight 
 swell. But the Cabotia was attacked and chased 
 in a North Atlantic autumn gale. 
 
 She left the United States on October 9th, 
 1916, carrying some 5,000 tons of cargo, consist- 
 ing of wood pulp and 300 horses, and steamed 
 at once into a gale. It blew hard, with a heavy 
 sea, almost without cessation, and after eleven 
 days was worse. On the 20th a full gale was 
 blowing from the south-west. The Cabotia, 
 steaming east, was holding a zig-zag course at 
 ten knots, pitching and rolling, the sea continu- 
 ally washing over the decks. The master, the 
 chief officer, and the second officer were in the 
 chart-house, working out the position of the ship 
 taken by observation at noon. They made out 
 that she was 120 miles from the nearest land, or 
 twelve hours' steaming. These were the dan- 
 gerous hours. If nothing happened during the 
 day, by midnight the ship would be safe. 
 
 152 
 
HEAVY WEATHER 153 
 
 The third officer was on watch on the bridge, 
 where an able seaman was at the wheel. An 
 able seaman was looking ont on the forecastle 
 head, scanning the broken hills of water rising 
 and falling away to the grey horizon. 
 
 Suddenly, across the smother, the look-out 
 saw a dark and glistening object emerge. It 
 was about three miles away on the starboard 
 bow. The officers left the chart-house; the 
 master went on the bridge; and all deck hands 
 were summoned on deck. The master put the 
 ship right about, bringing the submarine astern. 
 The submarine fired, and continued to fire at 
 intervals of about five minutes, while she 
 manoeuvred to get on the Cabotia 1 s quarter. 
 But the master of the Cabotia kept a zig-zag 
 course, and manoeuvred quicker than the sub- 
 marine, so that the chief officer presently said 
 he thought the Cabotia could escape. She was 
 unarmed. 
 
 The movement of the ship, turning swiftly to 
 port and starboard alternately in a beam sea, 
 was very violent. The sufferings of the horses 
 penned below are not described, but they may 
 be imagined. The engineers and firemen, as 
 usual, stuck to their work and kept the ship at 
 her full speed of ten knots. It is uncertain 
 whether or not the ship was hit during a chase 
 which thus furiously proceeded for an hour and 
 a half. But the officers of the Cabotia clustered 
 on the oscillating bridge were staring aft at the 
 shape astern. It was now buried in flying 
 water, the gunner at his gun plunged up to his 
 neck in the sea, now emerging and firing with a 
 
154 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 sullen flash and a detonation torn by the wind ; 
 and the people in the Cabotia perceived that in 
 spite of her difficult manoeuvring, the submarine 
 had three knots the better in speed, and was 
 overhauling them. 
 
 The master ordered the boats to be swung 
 out, and dropped his confidential papers over- 
 board. No one thought the boats could live in 
 the sea then running; but they were the only 
 chance. The wireless operator had been con- 
 stantly making the distress call, and a little 
 before two o 'clock he received an answer. 
 
 But by that time the submarine was close 
 under the stern of the Cabotia, and she put a 
 shell through the Cabotia's funnel. Then the 
 master stopped engines, hoisted the signal that 
 he was abandoning ship, and ordered the crew 
 into the boats. 
 
 Here was another test of discipline and sea- 
 manship, to get the boats away from the rolling 
 vessel, in that frightful sea, under the continual 
 fire of the submarine. Among the seventy-four 
 men of the crew, besides British, were Greeks, 
 Italians, Portuguese, Americans, Danes and 
 Norwegians ; and all ' ' behaved splendidly. ' ' 
 
 There were four boats, each having a week's 
 provisions on board, and all were safely 
 launched. The boats were in charge of the mas- 
 ter, chief, second and third officers respectively. 
 In that sea it was all they could do to keep their 
 boats afloat, and they were immediately sepa- 
 rated each from the other. 
 
 The second officer, who with his men expected 
 every instant to be drowned, kept his boat 
 
HEAVY WEATHER 155 
 
 before the sea, the men pulling to keep steerage 
 way on her, and so waited for orders from the 
 master. He saw the submarine go alongside 
 the third officer's boat, and speak to the third 
 officer. Then the submarine went close to the 
 Cabotia and fired twelve shots into her. The 
 Cabotia settled slowly down, and about half an 
 hour afterwards she was gone. 
 
 About the same time the second officer sighted 
 a steamer. He hoisted a shirt on the mast, and 
 pulled hard towards her. The steamer stopped, 
 but made no reply to the signal of distress ; and 
 the second officer, tossing desperately within a 
 few hundred yards, saw the submarine go along- 
 side the strange vessel. She carried neutral 
 colours printed on her side, and a black funnel 
 with a deep white band. 
 
 Without taking the slightest notice of the 
 boats, the steamer got under way, saluted the 
 submarine with a blast on her whistle, and 
 departed. No explanation of these circum- 
 stances is available. That was what happened. 
 The second officer, abandoned to his fate, kept 
 the boat before the sea, and looked for the other 
 boats, but he could not see them. It was then 
 about three o'clock in the afternoon. Four 
 terrible hours later heavy rain began to fall, 
 and the sea moderated a little. The second 
 officer then steered for the land, about 120 miles 
 distant, the men pulling steadily all night. 
 When the ragged daylight dawned on the 
 desolate sea, the second officer set sail, and made 
 good way in comparative ease. At nine o'clock 
 that morning the second officer sighted a patrol 
 
156 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 boat right ahead. A few minutes later the 
 second officer and his sturdy crew were safe on 
 board the patrol boat, and the drenched, cold 
 and exhausted men were sitting down to a hot 
 breakfast. 
 
 In the meantime the chief officer's boat had 
 gone through much the same ordeal. When the 
 second officer pulled towards the strange steamer 
 the chief officer was astern of him and further 
 away from the vessel. The chief officer also 
 made signals of distress, hoisting an apron. 
 Like the second officer, he saw the steamer stop, 
 noted her neutral colours and the white band on 
 her funnel, saw the submarine draw alongside 
 and converse with her, saw her depart. 
 
 At that time the master's boat and the third 
 officer 's boat were within sight of the other two, 
 and all remained in company, though widely 
 separated, drifting northwards stern to sea 
 until dark. 
 
 When daylight came the chief officer's boat 
 was alone. The chief officer hoisted sail, and 
 laid his course for the land. 
 
 The second officer, on coming on board the 
 patrol boat, of course reported the situation to 
 her captain, who immediately steamed in search 
 of the other three boats. Within twenty minutes 
 the chief officer's boat was sighted, a little and 
 solitary sail cleaving the wandering waters ; and 
 presently he and his party were safe on board 
 the patrol. 
 
 All that day, all the night and all the follow- 
 ing day the patrol vessel cruised in search of the 
 master's and the third officer's boats. They 
 
HEAVY WEATHER 157 
 
 were not found. The second officer still held to 
 a hope that they had been driven far to the 
 north and would be rescued or make a landfall. 
 But they were never seen again. 
 
 Thirty-two officers and men went down on 
 that night of storm; thirty-two out of seventy- 
 four. In such a sea a small boat with little 
 steerage way might be pooped at any moment; 
 that is, being continually followed and overhung 
 by huge seas, she might fail to rise to the next 
 sea in time, when the following wave would fall 
 upon her, sending her to the bottom like a stone. 
 
 Of this hazard the commanding officer of the 
 German submarine was perfectly aware, when 
 he forced the master of the Cabotia to abandon 
 ship, with the alternative of being torpedoed 
 and himself and the ship's company drowned. 
 It is also evident that the submarine officer pre- 
 vented the steamer which came along from 
 rescuing the men in the boats. Either that 
 steamer was a German disguised as a neutral, or 
 she was a neutral. If she was a neutral ship 
 (which seems probable) the submarine officer 
 must have told her master that if she picked 
 up the boats she would herself be destroyed. If 
 the ship was a German vessel, the case is no 
 better. The thirty-two men were murdered. 
 
 The example of the Cabotia showed that a 
 submarine can attack in weather so heavy that 
 a small patrol boat could hardly live in it, and 
 even if she came through, her speed would be 
 considerably decreased. 
 
 Neither of the two officers of the Cabotia 
 whose evidence is recorded made any mention 
 
158 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 of the events of that night, during which their 
 boats drifted before the wind and sea of a North 
 Atlantic gale in autumn. Yet during all those 
 dark hours the men, beaten upon by the driving 
 rain, soaked with spray, went on rowing and 
 rowing; while the steersman, feeling the boat 
 leap and sway under his hand, knew that the 
 slightest failure in vigilance was certain death. 
 
XX 
 
 A Sitting Shot 
 
 The ship was anchored for the night, and the 
 chief engineer, having pumped up his boilers, 
 closed all connections and made sure that 
 everything was correct, as a careful man should, 
 went up to the deck-house for a little chat before 
 turning in. Here was the master, who, having 
 seen that the anchor lights were burning, the 
 watch was set and all was snug, also felt dis- 
 posed for social relaxation. 
 
 That day, February 1st, 1916, the master and 
 the engineer had brought the Franz Fischer, a 
 little ex-German collier (now officially described 
 as the property of the Lord High Admiral) down 
 the east coast, amid various alarms and through 
 a thick haze. Finally, the master received a 
 warning from a patrol boat that there were 
 floating mines ahead. It was then about nine 
 o'clock of a windless night, and " black dark," 
 and the master had decided to anchor where he 
 was, off the south-east coast. 
 
 The two men, at this pause in their toils, 
 talked of mines and submarines and enemy 
 cruisers and the anxiety of navigating unlighted 
 
 159 
 
160 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 waters, and how they were safe where they lay, 
 for a night at least. But they had forgotten one 
 thing. 
 
 While the master and the chief engineer were 
 thus peacefully engaged, the boatswain was on 
 the bridge, in charge of the watch, with an able 
 seaman. 
 
 Presently the boatswain remarked that he 
 " heard a noise like an aeroplane.' ' The obser- 
 vation interested the able seaman because, as he 
 said, he had " never previously heard an aero- 
 plane/ ' and he listened to the strange tin-like 
 humming, gazing up into the opaque darkness. 
 The mate, who was in his cabin adjoining the 
 master's room in the deck-house, came upon 
 the bridge. The mate's opinion was that the 
 noise came, not from an aeroplane, but from a 
 Zeppelin. The invisible thing in the air seemed 
 to be circling about the ship. 
 
 The two men in the master's cabin, hearing a 
 faint, whirring sound, paused in their conversa- 
 tion to listen to it. At the same moment there 
 came a knocking on the bulkhead, and the mate's 
 voice asking the master if he heard aircraft. 
 
 "Yes — what is it?" said the master. The 
 mate replied that he did not know, but that, 
 whatever it was, it was approaching from the 
 south-east. As they hearkened the humming 
 died away, and for a minute or two there was 
 silence. 
 
 Suddenly the vibrating roar of aerial engines 
 burst upon the ship so close above her that "the 
 sound was like several express railway trains 
 all crossing a bridge together, and at its loudest 
 
A SITTING SHOT 161 
 
 it would not be possible to hear a man shout." 
 So said the able seaman, who was on deck. 
 What the boatswain thought will never be 
 known, because he did not live to tell. 
 
 Then the clangour stopped once more ; again 
 there was a brief and terrifying silence; and 
 then a tremendous explosion in the ship, which 
 shivered all over, steadied, and began to heel 
 over to port. 
 
 The master and the chief engineer, coming 
 out from the deck-house into the alleyway, were 
 met by a falling column of water and were flung 
 backwards into the cabin, while the able seaman 
 was dashed against the door of the galley and 
 partially stunned. 
 
 The chief engineer, struggling to his feet, ran 
 out on the listing deck to summon the men from 
 below, and came to the engine-room companion 
 just as the second mate, second engineer, stew- 
 ard, donkey-man and mess-room boy came 
 crowding up, all naked as they had tumbled out 
 of their berths. The chief engineer missed a 
 fireman, but he had no time to look for him. 
 The ship was heeling over rapidly. The chief 
 engineer ran to the starboard lifeboat, which 
 was swung out, and in which was a seaman. 
 
 At the same time the able seaman, coming to 
 his senses, sprang for the boats, which were 
 surrounded by the dim figures of naked men, and 
 which, as the ship leaned over, were jammed in 
 the falls. As usual, no one had a knife. A man 
 ran to the galley to fetch a knife. The ship 
 turned over, everyone on board was drawn down 
 with her, and, said the chief engineer, she 
 
162 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 "appeared as if she sank just like a stone." 
 
 The chief engineer, coming to the surface, 
 scanned the dark waters, caught sight of a 
 floating object, swam to it, and held on to the 
 box containing lifebelts, which had been washed 
 from the bridge of the ship. All about the 
 chief engineer cries for help went up from the 
 men in the water. Several swimmers gained the 
 box and clung to it. In the icy water, the dark- 
 ness and confusion, the chief engineer thought 
 that about eight men were clustered about the 
 box, and he remembers recognising the second 
 mate and the donkey-man. The men tried to 
 climb upon the box and capsized it. With much 
 desperate swearing, it was righted again, but 
 some of the men, paralysed by the cold of the 
 water, had gone down. Those who remained 
 continued struggling to climb upon the box, and 
 to capsize it, and more men dropped off and 
 were drowned. 
 
 The chief engineer, considering that he would 
 be safer by himself, let go the box and struck 
 out. He found a lifebelt floating, put it on, and 
 swam and floated until he lost consciousness. 
 The next thing he knew he was lying in the 
 bottom of a boat, rescued. 
 
 Still clinging to the box were the able seaman, 
 who was on watch when the ship was attacked, 
 and the donkey-man. The able seaman heard the 
 clank and splash of oars and saw aboat approach- 
 ing, when the donkey-man relaxed his grasp and 
 sank, and the able seaman could not save him. 
 
 The boat came from the Belgian steamship 
 Paul, which had been anchored within half a 
 
A SITTING SHOT 163 
 
 mile. It would have arrived sooner but for 
 accidents. According to the captain's statement 
 (published in The Times), after the explosion 
 he heard cries of distress, and got away his 
 lifeboat, manned by the mate, the boatswain, an 
 able seaman and a fireman. In the thick dark- 
 ness it was at first impossible to ascertain 
 whence they came. Presently the shouts of three 
 men were distinguishable, and the boat went 
 away, and picked up first the able seaman, who 
 was hanging on to the box, then the steward, 
 who was floating in a lifebelt, then the chief 
 engineer, who was to all appearance dead. 
 
 Then the boat was carried out to sea on the 
 strong ebb. The master of the Paul waited and 
 listened for her, and presently descried a signal, 
 which he rightly interpreted to mean that she 
 could not make head against the tide. The 
 master must therefore go to the boat's assist- 
 ance. Steam was raised, and the windlass 
 manned to heave on the anchor. Then the 
 windlass broke. Upon the details of that 
 troubled time the master is silent; but it took 
 three hours' hard work to reach the boat, with 
 the ship's anchor dragging astern. 
 
 By that time one of the rescued men was so 
 far gone from this life that when he was lifted 
 aboard the Paul restoratives were applied for 
 an hour before he revived. 
 
 Thirteen men out of sixteen were lost. 
 
 But their murderers, the crew of ZeppelinL19, 
 also tasted salt water. The next morning a 
 trawler beheld the ghastly tattered ruin of an 
 airship sagging in the winter sea. 
 
XXI 
 
 Shipmates with a Pirate 
 
 Morning of November 1st, 1916. A steam- 
 ship rolling in the long swell of the North 
 Atlantic, pursued by shots fired from astern by 
 an invisible enemy. The Seatonia slipped this 
 way and that like a hunted animal, the master 
 scanning the hills of water rising and falling, 
 until he saw the submarine. She was then some 
 seven miles distant. Smoke, shot with flame, 
 continually burst from her guns, and shells sang 
 about the Seatonia, falling nearer and nearer. 
 So, for nearly three hours. Then the submarine, 
 running close on the steamer's beam, signalled 
 1 ' Abandon ship. ' ' 
 
 The master stopped engines and ordered the 
 two boats away. Fourteen people went in the 
 port lifeboat, seventeen in the starboard life- 
 boat, including the master, who was the last to 
 leave the ship. 
 
 The port lifeboat was in charge of the chief 
 officer and was first away. The submarine then 
 hoisted the German ensign, and two small flags ; 
 and as the master's boat was launched, the 
 submarine officer ordered her to come alongside* 
 
 164 
 
SHIPMATES WITH A PIRATE 165 
 
 The chief officer, standing off, saw the master 
 and the rest of the people in the starboard life- 
 boat taken on board the submarine, and the 
 lifeboat cast adrift. Whereupon the chief 
 officer got under way, steered east by north, 
 and (to make an end of his adventures) was 
 picked up two or three hours afterwards by a 
 neutral steamer, and subsequently landed in a 
 neutral port, whence, with the thirteen men 
 under his command, he came home in due time. 
 
 The master and the sixteen others of the crew 
 of the starboard lifeboat were sent below in 
 the submarine, so that the master did not see 
 his ship sink; but he heard the "cough" of 
 the discharge of the two torpedoes which sank 
 her. The chief engineer of the Seatonia, who 
 was also below, says he saw the torpedoes fired. 
 The submarine then submerged, and the English 
 and the other nationalities of the Seatonia's 
 people were alone with the Germans in that 
 narrow cylinder, intricate and glittering with 
 pipes, wheels, valves and every kind of 
 mechanism. 
 
 The commanding officer of the submarine was 
 of sallow complexion and sharp of feature, 
 looking about forty years of age. The first 
 lieutenant was about thirty, a fair man of 
 middle size. The second lieutenant, a dark, 
 clean-shaven young officer, had (he said) lived 
 for some years in Nova Scotia, and spoke good 
 English. 
 
 The crew numbered forty-six. They wore 
 thick felt-lined brown coats and trousers, made 
 of rubber or waterproofed leather. The internal 
 
166 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 fittings of the vessel were stamped V 49. Ex- 
 ternally she carried no number, and was painted 
 the usual grey. 
 
 The master says no word, bad or good, of his 
 experience on board the enemy submarine. It 
 is certain that he must have suffered a good deal 
 of discomfort, for there is no accommodation 
 for passengers in a submarine, and little enough 
 for the crew. The commanding officer and first 
 lieutenant may have had fitted bed-places; the 
 other officer and the men slept on the floor. On 
 that night of November 1st the people of the 
 Seatonia must have been packed like herrings, 
 and the air must have become very dense. It 
 seems that they were hospitably treated. The 
 commanding officer asked many questions of the 
 master, who, if he were like other masters, did 
 not illuminatingly respond. The lieutenant who 
 had dwelt in Nova Scotia appears to have been 
 socially disposed. 
 
 At eight o 'clock the next morning, November 
 2nd, the submarine captain invited the master 
 to come up on deck. There, in the keen air and 
 sudden daylight, the master beheld three British 
 steam trawlers tossing on a heavy run of sea. 
 These were the Caswell, Kyoto, and Ear fat 
 Castle. But the master had not been asked on 
 deck to admire the view. The submarine officer 
 had already made his arrangements, and the 
 master was part of them. The men of the 
 Caswell were ordered to bring their boat along- 
 side, and the submarine officer ordered the 
 master to visit each of the three trawlers, to 
 estimate the amount of coal in her bunkers, and 
 
SHIPMATES WITH A PIRATE 167 
 
 to open the sea-cocks, in the two which had least 
 coal, and so to sink them. Such, at least, was 
 what the master understood he was to do. 
 
 The master had no choice but to obey. So 
 he went away in the Caswell's boat. The crews 
 of the other two trawlers were getting away in 
 their boats. No sooner was the crew of the 
 Kyoto clear of her than the master was startled 
 by the report of a gun, and saw a shell strike 
 the Kyoto. The submarine fired into her till she 
 sank. Apparently the German officer decided 
 to hasten the good work. 
 
 Then the master perceived another steam 
 trawler coming up. She looked like an Icelandic 
 boat, was named Bragi, and was flying Danish 
 colours. He afterwards discovered, that the 
 Dane had been captured by the submarine four 
 days previously, and was then under the com- 
 mand of a German lieutenant, with an armed 
 guard of three men. The Bragi was acting as 
 consort to the submarine. She lay-to, and the 
 submarine officer set the crews of all three 
 trawlers and some of the Seatonia's crew to 
 shifting coal from the two remaining British 
 trawlers, Caswell and Harfat Castle, to the 
 Bragi. 
 
 There was a considerable sea running, and 
 the forced working party must hoist the coal 
 from the bunkers, lower it into the boats, pull 
 the boats across to the Bragi, hoist the coal on 
 board her, return and do it all over again — a 
 hard and heavy job. The Germans looked on. 
 
 The master makes no remark upon this 
 procedure. The work went on for about six 
 
168 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 hours, and was finished at half -past four in the 
 afternoon. Then the black, wet and weary 
 men were ordered on board the Bragi, which 
 thus received the crew of the Seatonia and the 
 crews of the three trawlers. The master of the 
 Seatonia was kept on board the submarine. 
 
 The submarine officer ordered the master of 
 the Bragi to come on board, gave him his instruc- 
 tions, and sent him back to his ship. The 
 trawlers ' boats were hoisted on board the Bragi, 
 and the two remaining trawlers, now gutted of 
 coal and supplies, were sunk by gunfire. The 
 Bragi got under way and departed. 
 
 The master of the Seatonia was left alone 
 with his German captors in the submarine. 
 
 The master was allowed on deck when there 
 was no ship in sight, and he admired the sea- 
 worthy qualities of the submarine. She was 
 much on the surface, both by day and night; 
 during the whole time the master was on board 
 it was blowing hard with a heavy sea; and he 
 considered that the submarine " worked on the 
 surface in a most weatherly way." 
 
 When a vessel which might have been an 
 enemy was sighted the submarine dived, some- 
 what, it must be supposed, to the master's relief; 
 for if she was put down he would infallibly go 
 down with her, and it would have been a pity to 
 be drowned by one's own people. 
 
 Twice during the night of November 3rd, 
 the master's third night on board, firing went 
 on over his head on deck. Two ships were 
 attacked, and so far as the master could dis- 
 cover, unsuccessfully. In preparing to attack, 
 
SHIPMATES WITH A PIRATE 169 
 
 the submarine always submerged so soon as the 
 ship was sighted, then rose again to fire at her. 
 
 The next night, the 4th, another vessel was 
 attacked. Nothing more seems to have hap- 
 pened till the night of the 7th, when the master 
 understood that the submarine was firing on the 
 U.S.A. steamship Columbian. 
 
 Next day, November 8th, the submarine 
 forced a Norwegian steamer, the Balto, to stop 
 and wait for orders. Then the submarine once 
 more attacked the Columbian, compelled the 
 crew to abandon her, sent them on board the 
 Norwegian, and then torpedoed the Columbian. 
 
 That was an interesting day for the British 
 master. In her, but not of her, he watched a 
 first-class pirate at work. The next day, the 
 9th, was also variously destructive. The sub- 
 marine stopped a Swedish steamer, the Varmg, 
 and to her transferred the crews of the sunk 
 Columbian and of the Balto. Thus it became 
 feasible to sink the Balto; and accordingly 
 bombs were exploded on board her, and she 
 sank about noon. 
 
 The master of the Seatonia was now released 
 from captivity and sent on board the Varing, 
 where there were already 134 people, in addition 
 to the crew. The master made the 135th. The 
 same afternoon 25 more persons joined the 
 party, making 160 captives in all. For the sub- 
 marine had forced the crew of the Norwegian 
 Fordelen to abandon her, sent them to the 
 Varing, and sunk the Fordelen. 
 
 The submarine officer sent a prize crew on 
 board the Varing, and at midnight the German 
 
170 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 officer in command of the Varing suddenly 
 sighted a British vessel of war, and at once 
 cleared the upper deck of all passengers. 
 
 During the nine days of the master 's captivity 
 the submarine sank the Seatonia, the three 
 trawlers Caswell, Kyoto and Harfat Castle, the 
 neutral vessels Columbian, Balto and Fordelen, 
 seven in all, and captured the Varing. She 
 had already captured the Danish trawler Bragi, 
 which was acting as consort. The disposition of 
 the captured crews was ingenious. The Seato- 
 nia's people went to the submarine herself, 
 thence to the Danish consort. The Columbian 
 was not put down until provision was made for 
 .her crew in the Balto. The crews of Columbian 
 and Balto were both transferred from the Balto 
 to the Varing, and then the Balto was sunk. The 
 crew of the Fordelen also went to the Varing, 
 and then the Fordelen was sunk. 
 
 The commanding officer of the submarine thus 
 preserved the lives of the people whose ships 
 he destroyed, making no distinction whatever 
 between belligerent and neutral ships. The 
 master of the Seatonia was treated not as a 
 prisoner of war, but as a civilian prisoner. As 
 he had not fired upon the submarine — having 
 indeed no gun — he did in fact retain his civilian 
 rights, which were respected. 
 
 The next morning, November 10th, the mas- 
 ter, with one of the captive crews, was landed 
 in a neutral port. 
 
 In the meantime the Bragi, according to her 
 instructions, arrived on November 5th off a 
 neutral port, which was her rendezvous. The 
 
SHIPMATES WITH A PIRATE 171 
 
 next day the submarine fetched up with the 
 Varing in company. The master of the Bragi 
 was again summoned on board the submarine, 
 where he received his dismissal from the 
 German service. He afterwards landed his 
 passengers in a neutral port, and so departed on 
 his own affairs, carrying in his mind a powerful 
 objection, mentioned by the submarine officer, 
 against carrying fish for England. 
 
 The use made by the Germans of neutral ships 
 and neutral ports would seem to add a new 
 meaning to the accepted notion of neutrality. 
 
XXII 
 
 "A Cheerful Note" 
 
 "Thus sang they in the English boat 
 A holy and a cheerful note." — A. Marvell. 
 
 The master of the City of Birmingham, left 
 alone on board his ship, which was sinking 
 under him, collected his confidential books and 
 papers, stowed them in a weighted bag, went 
 on the bridge and hove them overboard. 
 
 Pulling away from the ship over the smooth 
 swell were seven boats laden with passengers. 
 Across the water floated the pleasant sound of 
 women's voices, singing. . . . 
 
 The sound was a gracious, unconscious testi- 
 mony to the master's forethought, skill and 
 hardihood. A little more than ten minutes ago 
 all the people in the boats had been snug in the 
 ship, which was steaming peacefully at thirteen 
 knots : all men on duty at their stations, every- 
 thing correct, no sign of an enemy. There were 
 a crew of 145, of whom 29 were British and 116 
 were Lascars, and passengers numbering 170, of 
 whom about 90 were women and children. There 
 was no warning ere the torpedo struck the 
 vessel. 
 
 172 
 
"A CHEERFUL NOTE" 173 
 
 The master on the bridge perceived that the 
 after half of the ship was under water. He had 
 stayed by his ship to the last, and now it was 
 time for him to go. He swung himself from the 
 bridge and ran to the forecastle head, and as he 
 reached it the ship went down, taking the master 
 with her. He came to the surface, struck out, 
 swam to a couple of floating planks and clung to 
 them. It was November 27th, 1916, and the 
 water of the Mediterranean was very cold. 
 
 To the master, adrift on the last remnant of 
 his fine ship, still came the sound of women's 
 voices, singing; but they seemed very far off. 
 Rising and falling on the long slopes of the 
 swell, the master could see the boats no longer. 
 It occurred to him that they could not see him, 
 either. Would they conclude he was drowned 
 with his ship? Would each boat think the 
 other had him on board? Would he be left to 
 perish, alone among the people in the ship, the 
 people whom he had saved? 
 
 Swinging drenched on his wreckage, the 
 master saw again the trim clean ship, the look- 
 outs at their stations, the gunners standing by 
 their gun, and felt again the tremendous blow of 
 the torpedo, striking fifteen feet under water, 
 and the trembling of the wounded vessel. Then 
 began the test of his drill and organisation. 
 Every officer and man went to his boat station ; 
 all passengers, lifebelts slung upon them, went 
 as steadily to their boats as the crew. The 
 engineer reversed engines and stopped the way 
 of the ship, though the steam was pouring out 
 of the saloon windows; the wireless operator 
 
174 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 sent out calls and received a reply; the boats 
 were swung out and safely launched. And all 
 inside ten minutes. 
 
 No master could have achieved more. And 
 there he was adrift. Where were the boats? 
 Minute by minute passed and no boat came. 
 1 ' He saved others . . . ' ' But still the sound of 
 women's voices, singing, hung in the air. So 
 soon as they were in the boats, they struck up 
 that brave chant, to show that all was well and 
 that nothing dismayed them. 
 
 The master, after the manner of British sea- 
 men, continued to hang on, let come what would 
 come. Half an hour may be as half a year to 
 a drowning man. And the remorseless inter- 
 minable minutes lagged one after another to 
 nearly thirty ere the master caught the beat of 
 pars, and beheld the prow of a boat cleaving the 
 crest of the swell above him. 
 
 Once on board the boat the master instantly 
 took command again. He signalled to the other 
 boats to come together, and ordered them to pull 
 eastwards, where a plume of smoke blurred the 
 horizon. 
 
 The steamer was presently observed to be 
 approaching, and by four o'clock the whole of 
 the shipwrecked people were on board the hos- 
 pital ship Letitia. The City of Birmingham had 
 been torpedoed at 11.15; every soul on board 
 except the master was clear of her ten minutes 
 later; at 11.45 she sank, and by four o'clock all 
 were rescued. 
 
 So soon as the people were on board the 
 Letitia, the master called the roll of the passen- 
 
"A CHEERFUL NOTE" { 175 
 
 gers and mustered the crew. He found that 
 four lives in all had been lost between the time 
 of the explosion and the pulling away of the 
 boats. The ship 's doctor, who was an old man ; 
 the barman, who seems to have been of unstable 
 temperament, and who fell into the water; and 
 two Lascars : these were drowned. 
 
 Neither the submarine nor the torpedo was 
 seen. 
 
 The master in his report stated that "the 
 women especially showed a good example by 
 the way in which they took their places in the 
 boats, as calmly as if they were going down to 
 their meals, and when in the boats they began 
 singing. 
 
 So might Andromeda have lifted her golden 
 voice in praise to the immortal gods, what time 
 the hero slew the sea-beast that would have 
 devoured her. 
 
XXHI 
 
 Vignette 
 
 Theee hundred miles from land, in the 
 Mediterranean, a merchant service officer 
 crouched on a raft of wreckage, staring at a 
 German submarine, which lay within a hundred 
 yards of him. An English ship's boat, crammed 
 with men, at some distance from him, was 
 pulling towards him. The smooth sea was 
 strewn with broken pieces of the ship, to some 
 of which men were clinging; and a second boat 
 was pulling to and fro, picking the men from 
 the water. It was about half -past five in the 
 afternoon of November 4th, 1916. 
 
 The chief officer, contemplating the enemy 
 with a curious eye, beheld the long, yellow hull 
 awash, the circular conning-tower rising amid- 
 ships, painted a light straw colour, bearing a 
 black number, indecipherable, and surmounted 
 by a canvas screen, enclosing the rail. Five or 
 six men, clad in brown, except one who wore a 
 white sweater, lined the rail of the conning- 
 tower, gazing at the destruction they had 
 wrought. Forward, on the deck, beside the gun, 
 two German officers were leisurely pointing 
 
 176 
 
VIGNETTE 177 
 
 cameras upon the shipwrecked men. When they 
 had taken such photographs as they desired, 
 they departed. The submarine got under way 
 and steered to a position where she lay in the 
 track of steamers shortly due to pass. 
 
 The chief officer and the rest of the men were 
 all taken into the two boats. By that time 
 darkness was gathering. The chief officer, 
 knowing that two steamers were coming up 
 astern, burned red flares to warn them of their 
 danger. In so doing he risked the vengeance of 
 the submarine, which must have seen the flares, 
 and which could have overhauled the boats in a 
 few minutes, and then sent them to the bottom. 
 
 The two boats, overladen with the soaked and 
 shivering crew, pulled and drifted in the dark 
 for some nine hours. Early the next morning 
 they were rescued by the hospital ship Valdavia. 
 
 It was at 5.25 upon the previous afternoon 
 that their ship, the Himtsvale, had been struck 
 by a torpedo fired from an unseen submarine. 
 Her stern was blown clean off, and she sank in 
 two minutes. The master sounded the whistle, 
 and the wireless operator had just time and no 
 more to send out one call of distress ere his 
 dynamo collapsed. The master and six men lost 
 their lives, seven killed out of forty-nine. 
 
 Immediately after the explosion the submarine 
 rose to the surface and steered towards the scene 
 of wreckage, while the German officers prepared 
 their photographic apparatus. Doubtless the 
 prints were designed for publication in Ger- 
 many, to illustrate the freedom of the seas. 
 
xxrv 
 
 "Leave Her" 
 "Leave her, Johnny, leave her." — Chcmty. 
 
 Early in the morning of June 29th, 1916, the 
 little ketch Lady of the Lake sailed from an 
 Irish port for a Welsh port, her deck piled with 
 pitwood. She sailed on a light wind all that day 
 and the following night. She was an old boat, 
 built at Bideford in 1862, and her master, who 
 was her owner, was older still, numbering more 
 than seventy sea winters. Sailing with him 
 were a mate and a boy. By half -past seven on 
 the morning of June 30th the Lady of the Lake, 
 a leisurely matron, had strolled about twenty- 
 five miles from the Irish coast. There sounded 
 the report of a gun, a shot struck her, and away 
 on the beam rose a submarine. The submarine 
 fired again and again on the ketch. The master 
 decided to leave her, in order, as he said, "to 
 avoid splinters." He went about on the star- 
 board tack so that the dinghy could be lowered, 
 and the three men scrambled into her and pulled 
 away, while the submarine continued to fire at 
 the forlorn Lady of the Lake. 
 
 Then the submarine ran up alongside the 
 
 178 
 
"LEAVE HER" 179 
 
 dinghy and the German officer, shouting and 
 cnrsing, ordered the old seaman, the mate and 
 the boy, on board the submarine. The sub- 
 marine, still occasionally firing, drew toward 
 the ketch, and forced her crew to take in their 
 dinghy an officer and three men. The men car- 
 ried bombs. The Germans went on board the 
 Lady of the Lake, took everything they fancied 
 out of her, passed the gear into the boat, placed 
 the bombs below, and lit the fuses. The Ger- 
 mans were then pulled back to the submarine by 
 the master, the mate and the boy. The poor 
 plunder was placed on board the submarine, and 
 the master, the mate and the boy were cast 
 adrift in their boat without food or water. 
 The submarine went away. 
 
 The master saw his beloved little vessel go 
 up into the air with a horrible explosion, and 
 her fragments litter the sea. 
 
 He hoisted an oilskin on an oar as a signal 
 of distress, but there was no vessel in sight. 
 So the master, the mate and the boy took to 
 their oars and pulled for eight hours. They 
 had made ten miles out of five-and-twenty to- 
 wards the land when they were picked up by a 
 patrol boat. 
 
 The Germans had destroyed or stolen all the 
 old man possessed in the world, except his 
 dinghy and the clothes he wore. 
 
XXV 
 
 Fuel of Fire 
 
 On the night of December 7th, 1916, in a 
 broad moonlight, a big oilship, the Conch, was 
 steaming np Channel. She was bringing 7,000 
 tons of benzine from a far Eastern port. 
 
 Eight miles away, nearer the coast, a patrol 
 boat was cruising. Her captain was startled by 
 a bright flame towering upon the night, and 
 writhing momently higher amid a vast rolling 
 canopy of smoke, blotting out the stars. The 
 captain of the patrol boat steered for the fire 
 at full speed. At eight knots it was an hour or 
 more ere the captain came in full sight of a 
 large ship, wrapped in a roaring flame, spouting 
 burning oil from a rent in her port side, and 
 steaming faster than the patrol boat. From 
 the forecastle aft she was all one flame of fire ; 
 wildly steering herself, she was yawing now to 
 this side, now to the other; and as she sped, 
 her wavering track blazed and smoked upon 
 the heaving water. 
 
 The heat smote upon the faces of the men in 
 the patrol boat as they stared upon the burning 
 ship. The captain steered nearer to her, and at 
 
 180 
 
FUEL OF FIRE 181 
 
 the same moment she turned suddenly towards 
 him, her whole bulk of fire bearing down upon 
 the patrol boat. The captain put his helm hard 
 over and turned away; and still she came on, 
 dreadfully lighting the men's scared faces, re- 
 vealing every detail of rope and block and 
 guardrail ;, and then the patrol boat just cleared 
 her. 
 
 The captain stood off to a safe distance and 
 steamed parallel to the course of the burning 
 ship, scanning her for any sign of a living 
 creature, but he could see none, nor did it seem 
 possible that so much as a rat could be left alive 
 in that furnace. 
 
 After cruising thus for about an hour, and 
 perceiving the approach of two trawlers, also 
 on patrol duty, the first patrol boat went about 
 her business, her captain having made up his 
 mind that there were no men left alive in the 
 burning ship. 
 
 But there were. 
 
 When the watch was changed on board the 
 Conch at eight o 'clock on the evening before, the 
 master and the third officer went on the bridge. 
 During that watch there were two quartermas- 
 ters at the wheel; a wireless operator and a gun- 
 ner were posted at the gun, aft, and there was a 
 look-out man stationed on the forecastle head. 
 Below, the fourth engineer was on watch, and 
 the chief engineer was in charge. Two China- 
 boys were stoking. The rest of the officers 
 were either in their cabins or on deck, and the 
 remainder of the crew were in the forecastle, 
 where they had their quarters. 
 
182 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 About half -past ten the chief engineer was in 
 his cabin, whence he had been going to the 
 engine-room from time to time, when he heard 
 the dull report of an explosion, and simultane- 
 ously felt a heavy shock. He ran to the engine- 
 room. Nothing had happened there ; the revolu- 
 tions still marked ten knots, and the needle of 
 the telegraph dial still pointed to full speed. 
 
 The fourth engineer ran to call the second and 
 third engineers. Swiftly as he went, the fire 
 caught him as he dashed into the alleyway, and 
 he must burst his way through flame and smoke. 
 He was shockingly burned about the hands and 
 arms, but he roused the two other engineers, 
 and all three hurried down to the engine-room, 
 the whole after part of the ship blazing behind 
 them. None of the other officers was ever seen 
 again. 
 
 In the engine-room, imprisoned by fire, were 
 the eight people of the engine-room staff; the 
 chief engineer, the second, third and fourth 
 engineers and four Chinamen; eight of the 
 fifty-six persons in the ship, of whom twelve 
 were British and the rest Chinese. 
 
 From time to time one of the engineers tried 
 to force his way on deck, and at each attempt 
 he was beaten back by the flames. Thus they 
 tried for an hour; and all the while the tele- 
 graph pointed to full speed and the ship was 
 steaming at ten knots. 
 
 It was about midnight when the second en- 
 gineer succeeded in reaching the deck. He 
 sounded the whistle. The others joined him. 
 The bridge was a burning ruin ; flame and smoke 
 
FUEL OF FIRE 183 
 
 streamed up from the forward tanks; burning 
 oil poured from the hull on the port side, where 
 mine or torpedo had torn a great hole; of the 
 four lifeboats no sign was left except the black- 
 ened and twisted davits. To the eight men it ap- 
 peared that they must either be burned alive or 
 go over the side and end the business that way. 
 
 Then they remarked the dinghy secured on 
 chocks on the well deck. Amid the heat and 
 flame, they hoisted her out and lowered her into 
 the sea, where she was immediately filled with 
 water. All the time the ship was steaming ahead 
 and yawing. The engineers tried to get back to 
 the engine-room to stop the engines and so stop 
 the ship ; for with way on the ship the dinghy 
 was towing astern, and it was most difficult to 
 embark in her. But the fire now barred the 
 engineers from the engine-room. 
 
 What followed is a little obscure. But it is 
 clear that the four Chinamen reached the boat 
 by sliding down the falls, and that the fourth 
 engineer, attempting to follow them, could not 
 travel along the ropes with his wounded hands, 
 so hung midway, unable to go forward or back, 
 and then dropped into the sea, whence he never 
 rose again. The fourth engineer had come by 
 his hurt when he went to call the other two 
 engineer officers. So he lost his life. 
 
 The chief engineer did not see what happened 
 to the fourth engineer. The Chinamen in the 
 boat told him of it. Somehow the chief engi- 
 neer got into the boat, and before the second 
 and third engineers could board her she came 
 adrift from the ship. 
 
184 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 The chief engineer and the fonr Chinamen 
 were in the water-logged boat, and the second 
 and third engineers were left on board the burn- 
 ing ship. 
 
 The people in the dinghy were not seen by 
 the patrol boat, which was keeping pace with 
 the Conch some distance away from her. The 
 dinghy, obscured by smoke and flame, dropped 
 swiftly astern. The chief engineer and the 
 Chinamen kept her afloat by incessant baling; 
 and after about an hour they sighted a steamer, 
 rowed desperately, hailed her, and were pres- 
 ently taken on board. 
 
 The steamer pursued the burning ship with 
 the intention of taking off the second and third 
 engineers, but she could not approach near 
 enough. By that time the flames had subsided 
 upon the after part of the Conch, but she was 
 still blazing from the bridge forward. 
 
 What happened to the second and third en- 
 gineers left on board the Conch, their last hope 
 drifting away astern? At some time between 
 about half -past one in the night of December 
 7th-8th, when the dinghy went adrift, and three 
 o'clock, one of the trawlers, which had been 
 observed by the first patrol boat to be ap- 
 proaching, manoeuvred under the stern of the 
 Conch, which was still steaming ahead, and the 
 commanding officer of the trawler told the two 
 engineers to jump into the water, whence he 
 hauled them on board. 
 
 Thus, with the sad exception of the fourth 
 engineer, the engineering staff was saved. So 
 
FUEL OF FIRE 185 
 
 far as they knew, when they quitted the burning 
 ship there were no men left on board. 
 
 But there were. 
 
 At a quarter to four on that Friday morning, 
 December 8th, the lieutenant in command of 
 one of his Majesty's torpedo-boat destroyers, 
 sighted what he described as "a very large con- 
 flagration. ' ' Upon approaching the fire he per- 
 ceived a great vessel burning fiercely from fore- 
 castle to stern, steaming at about eight knots, 
 and yawing through some seven points; and 
 huddled upon the fore-peak, like the eyes of a 
 tortured creature, a crowd of Chinamen. 
 
 The lieutenant considered that to run his de- 
 stroyer alongside a burning ship under way and 
 out of control was impracticable. Let us now 
 regard the seamanship of the Eoyal Navy. 
 
 The lieutenant lowered all his boats and ran 
 past the stern of the Conch, throwing overboard 
 life-saving rafts, lifebelts and lifebuoys, and 
 shouting to the men to jump into the water. 
 He turned, ran past the stern again, turned, 
 and repeated his action. The Chinamen leaped 
 into the water and were picked up, all except 
 nine. 
 
 Nine paralysed Chinamen remained invisibly 
 fettered to the ship, where during some five 
 hours they had watched the fire steadily eating 
 its way towards them. It is probable that they 
 had taken opium. The flames, which had slack- 
 ened on the after part of the ship, were now 
 again blazing, the fire having ignited the bunk- 
 ers, and the Chinamen had but a few minutes 
 between them and death. 
 
186 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 "I therefore decided," says the young naval 
 officer who performed the deed, "that it was 
 
 necessary to place alongside the ship, and 
 
 take off the remainder of the crew. ' ' 
 
 Then followed a feat of consummate sea- 
 manship and indomitable courage. 
 
 A more hazardous evolution could hardly be 
 devised. As the burning ship was unmanage- 
 able and swerving suddenly from side to side, a 
 collision was almost inevitable, while to go 
 alongside a pyramid of burning oil was to risk 
 catching fire and exploding ammunition. 
 
 The lieutenant, steaming eight knots, keeping 
 pace with the Conch, ran right alongside her 
 windward bow, grappled the riven, red-hot hull, 
 now burned almost down to the water-line. For 
 a desperate ten minutes the destroyer was 
 locked to the burning, overhanging mass, in the 
 reek and the fierce heat and the dropping flakes 
 of fire, while the nine wretched Chinamen, 
 roused from the Chinese lethargy, lowered 
 themselves one by one from the peak of the tall 
 vessel to the deck of the destroyer. 
 
 Then the lieutenant cast off his destroyer, 
 "which sustained slight superficial damage to 
 guardrails and upper deck fittings. ' ' He makes 
 no other remark of any kind. He was none too 
 
 soon, for "ten minutes after cleared the 
 
 steamer, the latter was burnt to the water-line 
 and disappeared ... at 7.23 a.m." 
 
 In the meantime, ere the destroyer arrived, 
 the steamer which had rescued the chief engi- 
 neer and the four Chinamen had picked out of 
 the water five more Chinamen, while, as already 
 
FUEL OF FIRE 187 
 
 narrated, the patrol trawler had taken on board 
 the secdnd and third engineers. In addition, the 
 other patrol trawler had picked up two China- 
 men. Three British out of twelve, and twenty- 
 five Chinamen out of forty-four were saved; 
 thus, out of the whole crew of the Conch, twen- 
 ty-eight were saved and twenty-eight were lost. 
 The lieutenant in command of the destroyer 
 rescued fourteen Chinamen, nine of them at the 
 imminent hazard of his ship and all on board, 
 by an act of skill and daring which ranks among 
 the finest exploits of the Royal Navy. 
 
XXVI 
 
 The Pilot's Story 
 
 "It is notorious that facts are compatible with opposite 
 emotional comments, since the same fact will inspire entirely 
 different feelings in different persons, and at different times 
 in the same person; and there is no rationally deducible 
 connection between any outer fact and the sentiments it 
 may happen to provoke." — William James, Varieties of 
 Religious Experience. 
 
 The long hoot of a steamer's syren sounded 
 from the river, outside the red-blinded windows 
 of the bar parlour. There were present the 
 Widow Chailey, who was the landlady of The 
 Three Ships inn, the girl Bella, who was the 
 wife of a soldier and who served the liquor, 
 and a hulking mass of a man, huddled in an el- 
 bow chair under the gaslight, his hard hat tilted 
 over his eyes, his hands clasped on the top of 
 his stick. 
 
 "A steamer calling for a boat to take off the 
 pilot," said Bella as the syren hooted again. 
 
 " Thank Heaven another one's come in safe, 
 then," said the Widow Chailey piously. 
 
 "What do they want to come to this town at 
 all for, is what I ask?" said the obese man in 
 the chair, without opening his eyes. "They 
 
 188 
 
THE PILOT'S STORY 189 
 
 only sleep here. They got no house and pay no 
 rates. They don't do the town any good." 
 
 ' i What a thing to say, Mr. Bagwell, ' ' retorted 
 the widow, placidly scanning the evening paper. 
 ' l 'Ow would we live if it wasn 't for the pilots ? ' ' 
 
 "I'll have another whisky,' ' said Mr. Bag- 
 well, after a pause of reflection. 
 
 "I think you've had enough," said Bella. 
 But she brought it. Then she sat down at the 
 table with a sigh and began to knit. 
 
 Silence ; a silence pervaded with the sense of 
 moving life on the dark river without. Pres- 
 ently a bell jangled in the entrance hall and 
 Bella, with another sigh, left the parlour. 
 
 Then there entered a tanned, sharp-featured, 
 bright-eyed man, and dropped a heavy bag un- 
 der the table. 
 
 "Good evening, ma'am. I ain't been here 
 before, but you'll take me in, I know. I been 
 putting up at your opposite number's for years 
 — and then they quarrelled with me. You and 
 J won 't quarrel, shall us f For I ain 't a quarrel- 
 ling man by nature, ' ' said the pilot, settling him- 
 self on the bench against the wall. ' ' Now, then. 
 One all round, my dear. Whisky's mine." 
 
 The somnolent Mr. Bagwell received his liba- 
 tion in silence. The Widow Chailey took a glass 
 of port, and Bella sipped a dark liquid which she 
 said was a tonic. Herein she was wise, for to 
 have accepted all the liquor offered to her was 
 impossible. 
 
 ' ' Cheero, ' ' said the pilot. ' ' Another. I need 
 it. Another for you, old sport. It'll liven you 
 up, perhaps." Mr. Bagwell received his glass, 
 
190 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 drank its contents, and shut his eyes again. 
 "Another," said the pilot. "Now we're all 
 comfortable. Aren 't us ! ' ' 
 
 "Had a good passage, I hope," said the widow. 
 
 "Mustn't grumble in war-times," said the 
 pilot. He raised his eyebrows and pointed in- 
 terrogatively to the moveless Bagwell. 
 
 "He's all right," responded the widow tran- 
 quilly. "Collector of rates. Most respectable 
 — when he hasn't had a drop too much." 
 
 The pilot drank off his potion at a breath. 
 "Another," he said. "And the same for our 
 leading citizen here. ' ' His white teeth gleamed, 
 and his eyes, under sharply narrowing lids, 
 shone like points of glass, as Bella sat down 
 beside him. 
 
 "What happened, then?" said Bella per- 
 suasively. ' ' Tell us. ' ' 
 
 The pilot slipped his arm round the girl's 
 waist.- 
 
 "I'll tell you, my dear," he said. "Thirty- 
 six hours I been on the bridge before I came off 
 just now. It's a neutral ship I brought in, so 
 there's no harm in telling. I boarded her up 
 north. The captain says, 'I dam glad to see 
 you,' he says. 'Now I sleep.' He hadn't had 
 his clothes off for six days and nights, and no 
 sleep, only cat-naps. His eyes was bloodshot 
 and he was all bowed together like a old man. 
 'I dessay you'll wake in Heaven with the rest 
 of us,' said I, 'and why shouldn't jouV 'I 
 got wife and children in Stavanger,' he says, 
 and cripples down to his cabin. I had the 
 Admiralty instructions, of course^ but there 
 
THE PILOT'S STORY 191 
 
 wasn't much consolation in them. But no man 
 dies before his time. Another, my dear, and one 
 more all round. ' ' 
 
 Mr. Bagwell, aroused by the arrival of an- 
 other drink, appeared to listen. 
 
 "Not but what," pursued the pilot medita- 
 tively, "the further question arises, When is 
 his time? However, these things don't trouble 
 us much at sea. A fine clear evening it was when 
 we left port, and the bells was ringing in the 
 town, and all the people was walking on the pier. 
 One of the crew, an Englishman, sits on the 
 fo'c'sle playing a tune on a penny whistle he 
 had, and very well he done it. All of a sudden, 
 up comes the old man from below, his hair all on 
 end. 'What,' he shouts, stamping in his slip- 
 pers, 'you haf no more feeling for the ship that 
 you make music in this danger ! ' The English- 
 man laughed at him. 'I was only tryin' to get 
 a little serciety feelin' into the ship,' says he. 
 'A little cordiality, like.' I told the old man 
 submarines didn't come for whistlin', and per- 
 suaded him back to bed. 
 
 "Now I tell you," continued the pilot — "an- 
 pther all round, and thank you, my dear — when- 
 ever I take charge of a ship, I know I'm in for 
 a gamble with God Almighty. Before the war, 
 barring accidents what no one can foresee, I 
 knew for a certainty I could take the ship in per- 
 f ec ' safety from port to port. I Ve never had no 
 accident, not in twenty years, calm or storm, fog 
 or what not — never one single accident. But 
 now, what is it? You station a couple of A.B.'s 
 forward, and a man in the cross-trees, and two 
 
192 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 more hands aft, all a-looking out till their eyes 
 is bursting out of their heads and they think 
 every bit of wreckage is a periscope. I seen 
 'em call up a fireman in the middle of the night 
 to look overboard, because they thought him 
 knowing all about machinery could reco'nise a 
 periscope if he saw it — which, coming up from 
 the light below to thick darkness, he couldn't see 
 nothing at all. But what's the use? All the 
 time you can't see — but you can be seen. And 
 if it's a mine, it's the same — you can't see it in 
 the night, or in broken water. And either you 
 get the ship through or you don't. It's pure 
 chance. And that, ' ' said the pilot, ' ' is what we 
 have to contend with. ' 9 
 
 " I 'm glad, ' ' Bella remarked, ' * that my boy 's 
 in Mesopotamia." 
 
 "What can it be like, I often wonder?" said 
 the Widow Chailey placidly. 
 
 "Absofo^ely rotten," said the pilot, compre- 
 hensively. ' ' That same evening, as it was get- 
 ting dark, and we was feeling our way along — 
 for there's no lights now — I see a fine big ves- 
 sel about three miles off, and the next moment 
 there was a great black burst of smoke, and a 
 noise like a ton o' coal shot into the hold. I 
 see the ship break in two amidships and down 
 she went. Gone! 
 
 "What could we do? Nothing. I kept my 
 course, zig-zagging, all the night ; and twice an- 
 other ship was right on top of us and I saved 
 the ship by inches. Could have pushed the other 
 ship off with my hand, very near. And next 
 morning, just before the sunrise, when it's all 
 
THE PILOT'S STORY 193 
 
 cold and dim, and a man's inside falls to zero, 
 if you know what I mean, a steamship was pass- 
 ing us to port, black against the sky, when up 
 goes the cloud of smoke again, like a clap of 
 thunder, and down she went, nose first, inside 
 three minutes. Two ! It might have been us, 
 but it just wasn't. And that evening, down 
 went a vessel not a mile ahead of us. Three! 
 Three in one trip. 
 
 "The captain was shot up on deck out of his 
 ship after every explosion just as if he'd been 
 exploded himself, and last of all he says, 'It is 
 enough. I not go to sea never again.' But of 
 course he will. Where else can he go? After 
 that third poor ship was put down I was glad 
 enough to think we should be in port in three or 
 four hours. But we was ten minutes late of 
 Admiralty closing time, and had to cruise up 
 and down all night long. That was the worst 
 of all. 
 
 "For a man," continued the pilot, "sets him- 
 self to last a certain time like a chronometer, 
 and when that time's exceeded, he 'as to wind 
 himself up all over again. Drink would do it, 
 but I never touch liquor on duty. . . . Another, 
 miss, and one more all round, and then I'm for 
 bed. What cheer, old sport? Got something 
 on your mind, have you?" 
 
 Mr. Bagwell, thus addressed, drank his liquor, 
 and regarded the pilot with a vindictive eye. 
 
 "Yes, I have," said Mr. BagweU. "And 111 
 tell you what it is, straight. You're no better 
 than a thief, you are. You're a pernicious 
 water-rat. You're a ruddy interloper in this 
 
194 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 town. You come and you go, and you pay no 
 rates and you're a flagrant disgrace. One of 
 these days you'll get it in the neck, so I warn 
 you. In the neck. And serve you damn well 
 right." 
 
 The pilot surveyed his accuser with a cheer- 
 ful smile. 
 
 "I don't know what I done to you, old friend, 
 excep' hand you out one now and again," said 
 the pilot, blandly. 
 
 Then Mr. Bagwell laboriously repeated his 
 words, as though they were a lesson he had 
 learned by heart. 
 
 " 'Ow can you say such things, and him 
 bringing food into the country and risking his 
 life?" said the Widow Chailey, mildly re- 
 proachful. 
 
 " Now look here," said the pilot, still immov- 
 ably serene, ' ' answer me this one question. Do 
 you know what you're a-saying? Or do you 
 not?" 
 
 Mr. Bagwell ^appeared to be earnestly inter- 
 rogating his consciousness. 
 
 "No, I do not," he said finally. 
 
 The pilot smiled upon him in silence. 
 
 "You'd better be going home," said the 
 widow firmly. 
 
 Mr. Bagwell rose without a word, and lum- 
 bered out of the room and out of the house. 
 
 "Such a pity," said the Widow Chailey; "he 
 always gets abusive when he 'as a drop of drink 
 in him. 
 
 "Some of the customers don't like it," said 
 the widow. 
 
xxvn 
 
 Three Prisoners 
 
 The Austrian submarine which had just 
 torpedoed and sunk the steamship Andoni 
 drew alongside the boat in which were the mas- 
 ter and a party of the crew of the Andoni. The 
 two officers on the conning-tower looked down 
 upon their victims. The commanding officer of 
 the submarine was slight of figure and bearded ; 
 the lieutenant of fair complexion and clean 
 shaven. A group of men, clad in slate-coloured 
 dress, stood on the deck, aft of the conning- 
 tower. 
 
 The lieutenant asked the master if he had any 
 papers, to which the master replied "No." 
 
 "Come on board," said the lieutenant. "You 
 are a prisoner of war. We are friends no 
 longer." 
 
 To torpedo a man's ship, which so far had 
 been the extent of the commerce between the 
 Austrian officers and the master of the Andoni, 
 was a singular exhibition of friendship. So the 
 master may have thought as he stepped on 
 board the enemy and disappeared below. 
 
 The lieutenant produced two letters, and 
 gave them to the second officer in the boat, 
 
 195 
 
196 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 requesting him to post them. The second officer, 
 reading the addresses on the envelope, perceived 
 to his surprise that they were addressed in 
 English handwriting to persons in England. He 
 did not know then what was afterwards dis- 
 covered, that the letters were written respec- 
 tively by two British masters who were already 
 immured in the submarine. That was the only 
 sign of their existence: two letters dumbly 
 appearing from the belly of the enemy. The 
 master of the Andoni, on going below, found 
 two friends to make up for the loss of the friend- 
 ship of the Austrians. The submarine departed, 
 carrying the three British prisoners — whither? 
 
 The Andoni was torpedoed in the Mediter- 
 ranean, about fifty miles from Malta, at 7.35 
 on the morning of January 8th, 1917. She sank 
 in twelve minutes. A gun-layer and two col- 
 oured firemen were killed. At half -past five the 
 same evening the rest of the crew were picked 
 up by a patrol vessel. 
 
 The first of the British masters to be captured 
 by the Austrian submarine was the master of 
 the Lesbian. He made a running fight of it. 
 That was on Friday, January 5th, 1917. About 
 half -past three in the afternoon, when the Les- 
 bian was steaming at ten knots on a zig-zag 
 course, the submarine emerged some three miles 
 astern and opened fire. 
 
 The master instantly ordered the gunners to 
 reply, and their second shot fell close to the 
 submarine, which thereupon dropped further 
 astern, to a position from which she could out- 
 range the gun of the Lesbian. 
 
THREE PRISONERS 197 
 
 The master, although he was outranged, tried 
 to confuse and blind the submarine gunner by 
 maintaining a rapid fire, but the shells of the 
 enemy continued to fall all about the Lesbian 
 and one pierced her stern. Thus the chase 
 went on; the Lesbian, strung to full speed, 
 running in a hail of shells, wreathed in smoke, 
 fountains of water leaping alongside her, dis- 
 tress signal-rockets rushing upwards and burn- 
 ing ; and far astern the low grey conning-tower 
 of the hunter came ploughing behind on a white 
 bow- wave, with tongues of fire and smoke blown 
 behind her and drifting over the bright sea, 
 
 At a few minutes past four, the action having 
 lasted nearly three-quarters of an hour, the 
 master, seeing that his ammunition was nearly 
 exhausted, hoisted the signal of surrender, 
 stopped the ship, and ordered the crew into the 
 boats. 
 
 The rapidly approaching submarine con- 
 tinued to fire, while the crew were getting away 
 the two lifeboats and the cutter. The shells 
 struck the ship, several among the crew were 
 wounded, and the master was hurt in the head 
 and leg. A shell struck the water close to one 
 of the boats and made it leak. As the boats 
 cleared the ship, she listed to port and began to 
 settle down by the stern. 
 
 The submarine drew alongside the boat in 
 which was the master, and the commanding 
 officer ordered him aboard. The submarine then 
 ordered the boats "to clear out." 
 
 "What about the master?" said the chief 
 officer. 
 
198 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 "He is stopping here. Yon clear out," re- 
 turned the Austrian, and proceeded to lay his 
 submarine alongside the abandoned and slowly 
 sinking ship. That was the last the men in the 
 boats saw of the submarine — the shark side by 
 side with the dying whale. 
 
 The three boats were left 120 miles from 
 Malta. The chief officer divided the crew of the 
 cutter between the two lifeboats and abandoned 
 the cutter. 
 
 In one boat were the chief officer and a crew 
 of seventeen, and in the other boat were the 
 second officer and a crew of seventeen. Both 
 boats hoisted sail and steered for Malta. It was 
 then about five in the afternoon, the dark falling 
 on a smooth sea, with a favourable breeze 
 blowing from the south-east. 
 
 The two boats sailed in company all that 
 night; but the next morning each was lost to 
 sight of the other in the haze. 
 
 The chief officer held on all that day, January 
 6th, and all that night. The next morning the 
 wind shifted to the north-west, dead ahead on 
 the course the chief officer was steering, and he 
 decided to go about and run for the Greek coast. 
 
 They had already been sailing in an open 
 boat for two nights and a day. The boat was 
 provisioned with meat, biscuits and water, but 
 no one knew for how long the stock would be 
 required. 
 
 Then began a dreadful voyage of shifting 
 winds, heavy seas, and deadly cold. Concerning 
 its incidents, the chief officer is silent, mention- 
 ing only that, although several ships were sight- 
 
THREE PRISONERS 199 
 
 ed, none answered their signals. But we know 
 that he and his men endured for ten more days 
 and ten more nights ; and at noon on January 
 17th they fetched up in a Greek port. By that 
 time all the meat was gone, and there were only 
 a few biscuits and a little water left. All were 
 greatly exhausted and some suffered from swol- 
 len feet. 
 
 The Greek peasants took them in and did 
 what they could for the castaways, until the 
 French authorities conveyed them to hospital. 
 In a fortnight all save three were fit to travel. 
 
 In the meantime the second officer had better 
 luck. He landed on the coast of Sicily on the 
 7th, after sailing two nights and the better part 
 of two days. 
 
 "When the boats of the Lesbian had been two 
 nights and a day at sea the Austrian submarine, 
 with the master of the Lesbian on board, was 
 cruising not far from them. 
 
 On the afternoon of January 7th, the subma- 
 rine sighted the steamship Mohacs field and 
 opened fire upon her. The Mohacsfield, retreat- 
 ing at full speed, returned the fire, and the chase 
 continued for an hour. 
 
 It was the usual story. The Mohacsfield was 
 outranged and outpaced; she was hit, and the 
 second officer and the steward were killed ; the 
 mate and a fireman were wounded, and then the 
 master was compelled to abandon ship. 
 
 The submarine took the master on board as 
 prisoner of war; and thus the master of the 
 Lesbian and the master of the Mohacsfield made 
 acquaintance and exchanged narratives; and 
 
200 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 perhaps one quoted to the other the words of 
 the wild Hungarian song: "But no matter, 
 more was lost on Mohacsfield"; and perhaps 
 not. The Mohacsfield was sunk by a torpedo. 
 
 The next day, January 8th, as already re- 
 lated, the master of the Andoni joined the 
 party ; and it was then that the two masters al- 
 ready on board prevailed on the Austrian officer 
 to send their letters home ; the two letters which 
 were handed out from the depths of the subma- 
 rine to the second officer of the Andoni. The 
 rest, so far, is silence. 
 
 The master of the Andoni had lost his ship by 
 a torpedo fired from the submarine invisible 
 beneath the surface. The masters of the Les- 
 bian and the Mohacsfield had fought their ships 
 to the last moment. Now all three were 
 prisoners. 
 
xxvin 
 
 Hide-and-Seek in the Bay 
 
 Off the Spanish coast on January 23rd, 1917, 
 the steamship Jevington was steering east, in 
 misty, squally weather, the sea running in the 
 long, mountainous swell of the Bay of Biscay. 
 
 At two o'clock in the afternoon the master, 
 going on the bridge, perceived a small steamer 
 about five miles away, steering south. Through 
 the mist the master was unable to decipher her 
 ensign or the name and colours painted on her 
 side. Presently the strange vessel was blotted 
 out by the driving rain. 
 
 A little after, the master sighted a fishing 
 vessel, with two lug-sails, steering northwards 
 as though she had just parted company from 
 the strange steamship. Watching her, the mas- 
 ter saw her alter course, as if to cross the bows 
 of the Jevington; and then, in her turn, she 
 vanished in a rain-squall. When the squall had 
 passed the ring of haze closing in the Jevington 
 had narrowed, and there was nothing to be seen 
 on all the high, broken surges of the swell. 
 
 It was about an hour and a half after the 
 strange steamship had been sighted, when the 
 master and the second mate, who were both on 
 
 201 
 
202 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 the bridge, exclaimed at the same moment, 
 " There's a submarine !' ' 
 
 About 200 yards away on the port bow the 
 periscope was projected above the surface, fol- 
 lowed by the top of the conning-tower. The 
 next moment the ship was struck. There was 
 an explosion on the port side ; the hatches of the 
 hold were blown in fragments into the air; the 
 derrick leaped twelve feet upwards and crashed 
 down on deck by the starboard rail, and the 
 water spouted up through the hold, flooding 
 the deck. 
 
 The master instantly ordered the engines to 
 be reversed to stop the way of the ship, and 
 ordered all hands into the boats. While they 
 were getting away he burned his confidential 
 papers in the galley stove. 
 
 In spite of the heavy run of sea, the boats 
 were safely launched, and they pulled hard from 
 the ship for about a quarter of a mile. Then 
 they lay on their oars and watched the subma- 
 rine nosing round the water-logged ship. The 
 submarine had hoisted the German ensign, and 
 presently approached the two boats. The chief 
 officer pulled to meet her. 
 
 The commanding officer of the submarine 
 hailed the chief officer, asking him what he 
 wanted. The chief officer replied that he 
 wanted to return to the Jevington to fetch dry 
 clothing. The submarine officer refused to 
 grant the request. It was, he said, too risky to 
 return to the ship. 
 
 He laid the submarine alongside the chief 
 officer's boat, and the chief officer noted that 
 
HIDE-AND-SEEK IN THE BAY 203 
 
 the German commander was a small man, clean 
 shaven, and that the lieutenant standing beside 
 him on the conning-tower was of the larger, 
 fair-complexioned German type. Some twelve 
 men were on the deck of the submarine. Officers 
 and men alike were dressed in dark green jack- 
 ets and oilskin trousers, the officers having 
 uniform caps. 
 
 The little German captain caused six suits of 
 good clothing to be handed out to the chief offi- 
 cer. Then he asked for the captain, who was in 
 the other boat, ordered the chief officer to cruise 
 about where he was, telling him that another 
 vessel would come to pick him up, and went 
 away to the master's boat. 
 
 The chief officer, sighting the strange steamer 
 which had passed southward earlier in the 
 afternoon, and which was now approaching at a 
 distance of about four miles, pulled towards 
 her, and he and his crew were taken on board. 
 
 She was a Norwegian vessel, the Donstad, 
 which had been captured early in the morning, 
 and which was impressed by the submarine 
 officer to serve as his consort. On board was a 
 German prize crew of six men under the com- 
 mand of an officer. 
 
 In the meantime the submarine officer, draw- 
 ing alongside the master's boat, ordered him to 
 come on board. Being requested to produce his 
 papers, the master gave the German the Jeving- 
 ton's bills of lading, ship's register, and French 
 bill of health — for what they were worth, which 
 was not much. 
 
 The submarine officer ordered the master to 
 
204 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 return to his boat, and when he was in it again 
 the little German captain photographed his 
 captives. He then ordered them to remain 
 where they were, and told them, as he had told 
 the chief officer, that he would send a vessel to 
 pick them up. 
 
 The submarine got under way and de- 
 parted, and the master's boat tossed in the 
 thickening darkness for an hour or more, when 
 the people in the boat observed the lights of 
 two steamers, one to the north and the other 
 to the north-west. 
 
 They saw a gun-flash near by the vessel to 
 the north-west. The master of the Jevington 
 decided to pull towards the other steamer. As 
 he drew near he recognised her to be the 
 strange vessel he had sighted early in the after- 
 noon. She was the Donstad, which had already 
 picked up the chief officer 's boat, and which now 
 took the master and his boat's crew on board. 
 The Jevington's people were searched by the 
 German guard, who robbed the second engineer 
 of money and trinkets. That petty larceny 
 shows how the German sailor is foreign to the 
 tradition of the sea. 
 
 The submarine having collected the steamer 
 at which she had fired, brought her close to the 
 Donstad. She was the Leonora, a Spaniard. 
 The submarine officer now ordered the German 
 officer in command of the Donstad to send to 
 him the master of the Jevington. 
 
 At this time, between seven and eight of a 
 dark and stormy night, the submarine, burning 
 side-lights, and the two captured neutral 
 
HIDE-AND-SEEK IN THE BAY 205 
 
 steamers, Donstad and Leonora, with all lights 
 burning, lay stopped and near to one another; 
 and a little way off, hidden in the darkness, the 
 Jevington rolled deserted, her decks awash. 
 
 The master of the Jevington was pulled 
 across to the submarine by two of his own men 
 and a German sailor. When the master was on 
 board the submarine, the submarine officer had 
 two bombs placed in the boat, and the men 
 rowed her across to the Jevington. The master 
 did not see his ship sunk, but he was told that 
 she had been destroyed. 
 
 The submarine officer informed the master 
 that he had captured the Spanish steamship 
 expressly for the purpose of taking the other 
 officers and the men of the Jevmgton to Liver- 
 pool, and that the master himself was to be sent 
 to Germany. He had orders, he said, that all 
 British masters captured should be brought to 
 Germany. For the time being, the master 
 was to remain on the Donstad. 
 
 Then the master, with this agreeable prospect 
 in his mind, was sent back to the Donstad; and 
 his state was not improved by a painful accident 
 which befell him. Climbing up the side of the 
 Donstad, the escape of water from a steam 
 heater scalded his leg. 
 
 The rest of the Jevington* s people were now 
 transhipped from the Donstad to the Leonora 
 in four trips. They were all on board by ten 
 o'clock, and all the time the two steamers and 
 the submarine lay with lights burning. 
 
 The master, with a scalded leg, was left in the 
 Donstad. As for the rest of the officers and the 
 
206 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 men of the Jevington, they were punctually and 
 safely landed at Liverpool on January 27th, 
 as the submarine officer had said. 
 
 During the next few days the master of the 
 Jevington watched the operations of the sub- 
 marine and her consort the Donstad cruising 
 about the Bay, waiting for ships. The Donstad 
 from time to time received her course from the 
 submarine, and the two vessels were in constant 
 communication by signal in the daytime and by 
 Morse lamp at night. The Donstad carried all 
 lights at night. The next day, January 24th, 
 a gale blew up from the south with a rising sea. 
 The master was allowed on the bridge, and was 
 even welcomed in the chart-house, where he 
 was shown the varying course and position of 
 the Donstad, sent hither and thither by the 
 submarine. He was profoundly interested in 
 the submarine's behaviour in heavy weather. 
 " Although a very heavy S.S.W. sea was 
 running," he reports, "she kept above water, 
 and appeared quite steady, and no water 
 breaking over her turret. • ' 
 
 This happy family party continued until the 
 27th, when the submarine ordered all the people 
 in the Donstad to come on board at daylight. 
 The master went with the crew of the Donstad 
 in her boats. The German prize crew followed, 
 with provisions and plunder, having first ig- 
 nited the fuses of the bombs, which presently 
 exploded, sinking the Donstad. 
 
 The master reported himself sick to the 
 commanding officer of the submarine. He said 
 his leg was very bad, and might he lie down? 
 
HIDE-AND-SEEK IN THE BAY 207 
 
 The little German captain sent the master below, 
 and gave instructions that his wound was to be 
 dressed and that he was to be given a berth, an 
 order which involved the deprivation of his 
 berth of another officer. 
 
 So the master lay in the German's bunk, with 
 a pain in his leg and a pain in his mind, as he 
 contemplated the prospect of a voyage in the 
 submarine with a prison at the end of it. 
 
 His fine ship was gone, his crew vanished. 
 His possessions had gone down with the ship. 
 As a man stricken with sickness remembers 
 what he was in health, and marvels how happy 
 he has been without knowing it, so the master 
 recalled the voyage. He had been anxious, but 
 day after day had gone by, and he had come 
 through, till he was within three or four days 
 of home. He traversed every incident of that 
 misty day of wind and squalls; the apparition 
 of the steamer steering south, the little sailing 
 craft which stole from behind her, and which he 
 now knew to have been a submarine ; the inter- 
 val during which all seemed well ; then the peri- 
 scope terribly shooting up ahead, and the blow 
 of the torpedo, which told him that all was over, 
 while his head yet rung with the noise of the 
 explosion. . . . Ought he to have done this? 
 Ought he to have done that? Why did he not 
 think of the other? Then came the wet and 
 cheerless tossing in the boats, under the per- 
 emptory orders of the German officer; his 
 tedious days of suspense on board the German 
 prize, with the added worry of his wounded leg ; 
 and now he lay captive in this fetid cell, the 
 
208 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 remorseless clashing of the engines in his ears. 
 He might be there for two or three weeks, for 
 the submarine, instead of risking the Channel, 
 might go home north about Scotland and down 
 the North Sea to a German port. And, also, 
 she might be sunk on the way by a British ship 
 of war. 
 
 Truly it seemed to the master that he had 
 been brought very low. And, like a number of 
 other people, he was furious with some person 
 or persons unknown, by whose fault or default 
 these things had befallen him. ... He did not 
 know, then, any more than you, the reader (if 
 you have been playing fair), that his story was 
 to have a happy ending. 
 
 At three o'clock in the afternoon someone 
 told him that a steamer was in sight, and half 
 an hour later the submarine submerged. The 
 master, from his bunk, watched the German 
 officer peering into the mirror of the periscope, 
 which he swung on its pivot by two handles 
 fixed at about the level of his eyes. The German, 
 having read the name of the unconscious vessel, 
 which was the Fulton, of Bergen, and had the 
 Norwegian flag blazoned on her side, called the 
 master of the Donstad to the periscope to find 
 if he knew this ship of his own country. 
 
 The master of the Donstad seems to have 
 satisfied the Germans that the ship was of Nor- 
 way, and that she carried no gun, for the sub- 
 marine came to the surface astern of the Fulton, 
 and sounded the syren as a signal she was to 
 stop. The ship stopped accordingly. The mas- 
 ter lay in his bunk while the Germans ascended 
 to the deck and descended again, and there was 
 
HIDE-AND-SEEK IN THE BAY 209 
 
 coming and going, and an armed party quitted 
 the submarine. 
 
 The commanding officer of the submarine 
 took possession of the Fulton, sending a prize 
 crew on board. 
 
 Then the master was suddenly ordered on 
 deck, together with the master and crew of the 
 Donstad. The master was informed by the 
 commanding officer of the submarine that 
 although his orders were to take all captured 
 British masters to Germany, as it had been 
 reported to him that the master was suffering 
 from a wounded leg, the master would be sent 
 on shore with the crew of the Donstad. So that 
 when the engineer of the Donstad permitted a 
 leak in his heating apparatus, he was uncon- 
 sciously serving as a wedge in the hand of des- 
 tiny, which presently drove the master of the 
 Jevmgton apart from captivity and prison. The 
 commanding officer of the submarine may re- 
 ceive all due credit for compassion. It is also 
 the case that a sick man, especially if he occu- 
 pies an officer's berth, is very inconvenient in a 
 submarine. 
 
 On January 27th, the day on which the crew 
 of the Jevmgton were landed at Liverpool by 
 the Leonora, the master of the Jevington was 
 landed from the lifeboat of the Fulton, another 
 neutral ship, at a Spanish port. The crew of 
 the Fulton and the crew of the Donstad were 
 landed at the same time. The Fulton herself, 
 manned by the German prize crew, proceeded 
 to sea. So far as Norway is concerned, her 
 mercantile marine might as well be owned by 
 Germany. 
 
XXIX 
 
 But Nine op Her Crew Alive' ' 
 
 on the morning of January 
 27th, 1917, in very dirty weather, in the North 
 Atlantic. One of his Majesty's patrol boats 
 righting out a full easterly gale with a breaking 
 sea, smothered in water, violently flung to and 
 fro. To the lieutenant-commander, E.N.E., 
 comes a messenger with a signal pad, on which 
 is neatly written an intercepted wireless S.O.S. 
 call: "S.S. Artist sinking rapidly, mined or tor- 
 pedoed in " then followed her position. 
 
 The lieutenant-commander replied by wireless 
 that he was proceeding to her assistance. No 
 answer came, then or afterwards. The lieuten- 
 ant-commander increased his speed up to the 
 limit the boat could stand in that sea, and 
 steered for the spot indicated. He shoved 
 along for two hours ; then, as the vessel was be- 
 ing strained and the engines were racing, he re- 
 duced speed ; an hour later he was obliged again 
 to reduce speed. At half -past one he arrived at 
 the position indicated. There was nothing but 
 the boiling waste of waters. 
 
 210 
 
"BUT NINE OF HER CREW ALIVE" 211 
 
 The lieutenant-commander cruised twelve 
 miles in one direction and twelve miles in 
 another; the wind increasing, the sea rising 
 higher, the cold very bitter. 
 
 At three o'clock in the afternoon the lieu- 
 tenant-commander was obliged to heave-to. He 
 did not think that in such weather the boats of 
 the sinking ship could have been launched, or if 
 they were launched, that they could live. That 
 night it blew harder than ever, and the ther- 
 mometer fell to 37 degrees. At nine o'clock 
 the next morning the lieutenant-commander 
 went to succour another ship in distress, and so 
 passes out of this story. 
 
 He was right and wrong in his surmise. A 
 little after the lieutenant-commander had re- 
 ceived the S.O.S. call from the Artist, the boats 
 had been launched from her, and one lived. 
 While the lieutenant-commander, the same 
 afternoon, was beating to and fro in the raging 
 sea and icy spindrift, there was a boat with its 
 miserable crew somewhere near. 
 
 It was between eight and nine on that Satur- 
 day morning, January 27th, 1917, when the 
 Artist's wireless operator sent out his call. The 
 Artist, sailing from an American port, had run 
 right into the gale ; and she had been hove-to for 
 three nights and two days. Between eight and 
 nine in the morning, without a sign of a subma- 
 rine, the dull boom of an explosion roared 
 through the tumult of the gale, and a torpedo, 
 striking the starboard side forward, tore a huge 
 hole close upon the water-line. 
 
 There was not a moment to lose. The violent 
 
212 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 pitching of the ship, lying head to sea, omi- 
 nously slackened as she began to settle by the 
 head. The sea ponred over her bows and swept 
 the decks from stem to stern. Waist-deep in 
 water, the crew struggled desperately to lower 
 the three lifeboats. In one boat were the master 
 with the second and third officers and part of the 
 crew ; in another were the chief officer and part 
 of the crew ; and in the third were a cadet and 
 part of the crew. What followed is taken from 
 the cadet's narrative. 
 
 He was in his boat, which was swung out on 
 the falls, and he saw the chief officer's boat, also 
 swung out, dashed against the ship's side as 
 she rolled, and broken. The next moment the 
 cadet's boat was borne upwards by a rising 
 wave, so that the after fall was pushed upwards 
 and thus unhooked. As the boat was left hang- 
 ing by the bows her stern dropped suddenly. 
 Two men were flung overboard and sank at 
 once. The next wave bodily lifting the boat on 
 an even keel, enabled the cadet to unhook the 
 foremost fall, and the men, pulling hard, got 
 clear of the ship. 
 
 As he pulled clear, the cadet saw the chief 
 officer's boat filled with water to the gun- 
 wale, broadside on to the tremendous sea, and 
 helpless. She was never seen again. 
 
 In the meanwhile the master's boat had also 
 pulled clear of the sinking ship. Both boats laid 
 out sea anchors and drifted in sight of each 
 other all that terrible day. 
 
 There were forty-five persons in all on board 
 the Artist when she was torpedoed. Some had 
 
"BUT NINE OF HER CREW ALIVE" 213 
 
 gone down in the chief officer's boat, some were 
 in the captain's boat, and in the cadet's boat 
 were sixteen persons. 
 
 That night, the night of January 27th, as the 
 lieutenant-commander stated, the gale increased 
 in violence and the thermometer dropped to 37 
 degrees. Somehow, the frozen, wet, exhausted 
 men must keep baling out the boat, and her head 
 to the sea. Concerning the horrors of that 
 night the cadet says nothing. It is possible that 
 the partial paralysis of the faculties, induced by 
 long exposure, dulls the memory. There is no 
 consciousness of time, but a quite hopeless con- 
 viction of eternity. The state of men enduring 
 prolonged and intense hardship seems to them 
 to have had no beginning and to have no end. 
 After a period of acute suffering, varying ac- 
 cording to the individual, the edge of pain is 
 blunted and numbness sets in. In many cases 
 the retardation of the circulation, withdrawing 
 the full supply of blood to the head, causes de- 
 lirium, in which men shout and babble, drink 
 salt water, and leap overboard. By degrees the 
 heart's action is weakened, and finally stops. 
 Then the man dies. Seven men in the cadet's 
 boat did in fact die. 
 
 After the night of the 27th the captain's boat 
 was no more seen. The cadet and his crew 
 alone were left of the people of the Artist. 
 
 They drifted in the gale all that Sunday, the 
 28th, all Monday, all Monday night. Men died, 
 one after another, and the pitiless sea received 
 their bodies. When each one passed the cadet 
 
214 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 does not state. Probably lie could not remem- 
 ber. For the survivors were dying, too. They 
 were dying upwards from their feet, in which 
 frostbite had set in. One man, a fireman, en- 
 dured the agony of a broken arm. . . . 
 
 On the night of January 29th-30th, when 
 the castaways had been adrift for three days 
 and three nights, they saw the distant lights of 
 land towards the north. The wind and sea 
 began to go down, and at daylight the crew 
 hoisted sail and steered north. At a little after 
 nine on that Tuesday morning, exactly seventy- 
 two hours since they had cleared the sinking 
 ship, they sighted the smoke of an outward- 
 bound steamer. Twenty minutes later nine men 
 were taken on board, and one dead man was left 
 in the boat. 
 
 The rescued men were transferred to a patrol 
 boat, which landed them in an Irish port the 
 same evening. Here, says the cadet, "the 
 Shipwrecked Mariners' authorities took care 
 of us and did all they possibly could for us. ' ' 
 
 Five of the nine survivors were placed in 
 hospital. The remaining four, of whom the 
 sturdy cadet was one, speedily recovered. 
 
 The boat with the dead man in her was picked 
 up by a patrol vessel. 
 
 A brief official account of the affair was pub- 
 lished at the time by the Secretary of the Ad- 
 miralty, who remarked that ' ' The pledge given 
 by Germany to the United States not to sink 
 merchant ships without ensuring the safety of 
 the passengers and crews has been broken be- 
 
"BUT NINE OF HER CREW ALIVE" 215 
 
 fore, but never in circumstances of more cold- 
 blooded brutality. ' ' 
 
 But when it comes to brutality the Germans 
 can do better than that, as will be seen. What's 
 the use of talking? 
 
XXX 
 
 Dead Men's Luck 
 
 On the evening of Sunday, February 4th, 
 1917, the steamship Dauntless was in the north- 
 ern part of the Bay of Biscay, outward bound 
 with a cargo of coal. At six o 'clock the master 
 and the second officer were on the bridge, keep- 
 ing a vigilant watch in the clear darkness, whit- 
 ened by the foam of a heaving sea, There was 
 nothing in sight, when there came the report of 
 a gun, and a shell sang over the bridge, and then 
 another. One passed through the funnel, the 
 other smashed the steering-gear, so that when 
 the master tried to put the helm over it jammed, 
 and the Dauntless went straight on. The man 
 at the wheel was wounded in the leg. The mas- 
 ter was wounded in the right shoulder and left 
 arm. Projectiles whistled from out the dark- 
 ness. The ship was hit and a fireman was killed. 
 The master stopped the ship and blew four 
 blasts on the whistle, signifying that the ship 
 was being abandoned. The invisible submarine 
 continued to fire. The two lifeboats were got 
 away under shell fire and rifle fire. Two men, 
 one on either side the second officer, were 
 wounded as they were embarking in the star- 
 
 216 
 
DEAD MEN'S LUCK 217 
 
 board lifeboat. The chief officer seems to have 
 been in command of the port lifeboat, but there 
 is a doubt on this point. For the moment the 
 port lifeboat disappears, for her crew rowed 
 away and were no more seen by the people in 
 the master's boat. It is necessary to be par- 
 ticular about the boats, as will appear. We have 
 now to do with the starboard lifeboat, in which 
 were the master and seventeen others. One 
 dead man was left in the ship. The master and 
 three men were wounded. 
 
 It was then about half -past six. The sub- 
 marine hove into view and drew alongside the 
 master's boat. She bore the marks of usage 
 and her gun was rusty. Officers and men wore 
 blue uniform. The commanding officer ordered 
 the master and the crew on board the subma- 
 rine. Then the submarine officer asked the 
 master if there was anyone left in the Dauntless. 
 Upon being told that the ship was deserted, save 
 for one dead man, the German officer ordered 
 some of his men to go on board her in the mas- 
 ter's boat. He presented a revolver at the mas- 
 ter's head, telling him that if anyone was found 
 alive in the Dauntless the master would imme- 
 diately be shot. 
 
 What the Germans were after was plunder. 
 The men of the Dauntless, sullenly grouped 
 upon the deck of the submarine, during an hour 
 or so contemplated the pirates bringing loot 
 from the Dauntless to the submarine in the 
 Dauntless 's jolly-boat, which had been left on 
 board, and the starboard lifeboat. The second 
 officer saw tinned provisions, enamel paint and 
 
218 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 turpentine, among other things, handed up from 
 the boats. 
 
 At about eight o'clock, when the boats were 
 emptied, the men of the Dauntless, gazing at the 
 dim ship looming on the dark, saw a red flash 
 leap from her, and heard a dull explosion, and 
 the dim ship disappeared. 
 
 The submarine officer ordered the master and 
 the crew of the Dauntless into the starboard 
 lifeboat. But when the master represented that 
 the lifeboat had been damaged by gunfire and 
 was leaking, the German kindly allowed the 
 master to take the jolly-boat also. The master 
 divided the crew between the two boats. In the 
 jolly-boat were the master, the second officer, 
 the chief, second and third engineers, the stew- 
 ard and a fireman; seven persons in all. The 
 rest went away in the leaking starboard life- 
 boat, which soon afterwards parted from the 
 master's boat, and was never seen again. 
 
 Already the port lifeboat had gone away; 
 but her story is to come. With the starboard 
 lifeboat we have no more to do. There remains 
 the jolly-boat. 
 
 As she parted from the submarine the master 
 asked a German if the land was five miles away, 
 and the German replied "More." There is 
 indeed some uncertainty as to the exact position 
 from which the boats started, as there was an 
 increasing easterly wind, and also the drift of 
 the current in those waters. 
 
 It is not known if there were provisions in 
 the starboard lifeboat which went away and 
 was no more seen. But it is quite certain that 
 
DEAD MEN'S LUCK 219 
 
 the Germans, having stolen all the provisions 
 they conld find in the Dauntless, sent the seven 
 people adrift in the jolly-boat without food or 
 water, in rough weather, and one of them, the 
 master, badly wounded. 
 
 The master, despite the shrapnel bullets he 
 carried in his left arm and shoulder, steered; 
 the other six men rowed, and went on rowing. 
 The wind and sea had risen, and were dead 
 against the easterly course steered by the 
 master; the cold was extreme, with occasional 
 storms of snow. They rowed all that night. At 
 about six o'clock the next morning the steward 
 fell forward, dead. 
 
 They went on rowing all that day, Monday, 
 without bite or sup; cold, wet, tormented by 
 thirst, their tongues swelling, their lips black, 
 their skin cracking with the salt spray and the 
 bitter wind; still the five men rowed, and the 
 dead man lay in the bottom of the boat, and the 
 master steered. In the evening they committed 
 the body of the steward to the deep. Then they 
 sighted land. It was near nightfall; a thick 
 shower of snow drove down and they lost the 
 lie of the land, though it was no more than three 
 or four miles away. 
 
 They rowed all that night. At daylight, next 
 morning, Tuesday, February 6th, they sighted 
 land again, and so they went on rowing. They 
 saw the breakers bursting all along the beach; 
 but, wholly spent, they could do no more than 
 keep the boat just moving; and as her nose 
 touched ground a wave capsized her, and the six 
 men were flung into the surf. 
 
220 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 They struggled up on the beach and fell down. 
 Two of them, the second engineer and the fire- 
 man, then and there died on the wet sand where 
 they lay. 
 
 About half -past ten on that Tuesday morning 
 a French coastguardsman, fully armed, was 
 marching his lonely beat along the shore, when 
 he saw four bowed figures stumbling towards 
 him in the distance. A little beyond them a 
 capsized boat was tossing in the surf. 
 
 The Frenchman, with admirable presence of 
 mind, immediately decided that four German 
 sailors had landed. He drew his revolver, and, 
 swiftly approaching the strangers, commanded 
 them to put up their hands. Three of them 
 stiffly lifted swollen hands ; the fourth tried to 
 lift his arms a little. They stared upon him 
 with faces like the faces of men in torment, and 
 one began to speak, uttering strange sounds, 
 thickly and slowly, framing the same words 
 over and over again, with a kind of pitiful des- 
 peration. 
 
 And presently the French coastguardsman 
 saw light. Ah, what a change ! And there was 
 his little house, where the English could rest 
 until they were taken away by the authorities to 
 hospital. 
 
 Ten days later, the master had so far recov- 
 ered that he was able to leave his bed, and the 
 second officer, the chief engineer and the third 
 engineer were at home in England. 
 
 When the six men in the jolly-boat 
 reached land they had been adrift during nearly 
 forty hours. That was on Tuesday, February 
 
DEAD MEN'S LUCK 221 
 
 6th. Where, during that time, was the port 
 lifeboat! No one knew. All that the survivors 
 in the jolly-boat knew was that when the boats 
 were lowered from the Dauntless, the port life- 
 boat had gone away with four (or five) men in 
 her. 
 
 The Dauntless was abandoned on Sunday 
 evening, February 4th. On the following Fri- 
 day, the 9th, a Spanish trawler, cruising in the 
 Bay of Biscay, sighted a boat tossing in the dis- 
 tance. There were men in her, but whether 
 dead or alive the Spaniard could not discern. 
 
 Coming alongside, the Spanish sailors looked 
 down upon four men huddled together. Their 
 eyes moved. Otherwise they were dead. 
 
 During five days and five nights they had 
 been adrift on the winter sea. They had a little 
 biscuit. They had no water. There were the 
 two seaman gunners, the cook and a negro. The 
 Spaniards landed them and they were placed in 
 hospital. 
 
 After three months in hospital one of the 
 gunners came home and made his report, which 
 begins: "I was the gun's crew of the Daunt- 
 less," and goes on to describe his experiences in 
 the boat in two, sentences : " We drifted about in 
 the Bay for five days. We had biscuits but no 
 water. ' ' 
 
 These four men in the port lifeboat, and the 
 master and the three officers in the jolly-boat 
 survived out of the twenty-three people of the 
 Dauntless. 
 
XXXI 
 
 Firing on the Boats 
 
 Said the third officer to the quartermaster, 
 who was at the wheel, " James" — but that was 
 not his name — " James," said the third officer, 
 "I think there is a submarine on our starboard 
 bow." 
 
 The quartermaster's subsequent impressions 
 were extremely crowded. The dusk of the late 
 afternoon was thickening the easterly haze; 
 and, staring across the long, smooth swell, the 
 quartermaster discerned the dark conning- 
 tower and lighter hull of a submarine some two 
 and a half miles away, and the indistinct figures 
 of two officers on the conning-tower, and three 
 or four men grouped on the deck. At the same 
 time he was aware that the third officer was 
 speaking to the captain down the voice-tube. 
 Then a gun spoke on the submarine and a shell 
 went by in the air. The master arrived on the 
 bridge. So did the chief officer. The master 
 turned the engine-room telegraph to stop, blew 
 on the whistle the four short blasts signifying 
 "Abandon ship," and ordered the boats to be 
 
 222 
 
FIRING ON THE BOATS 228 
 
 swung out and manned. All these things hap- 
 pened very quickly. The quartermaster having 
 run to his boat, saw a shell burst in the wheel- 
 house which he had just quitted. 
 
 In the meantime the master on the bridge saw 
 the submarine sink and disappear. Watching, 
 he saw her emerge again on the port side. She 
 opened fire again. The master went to his 
 cabin, possibly to fetch his confidential papers. 
 The starboard lifeboat, which was the master's 
 boat, had pulled clear of the ship. 
 
 The port lifeboat was being lowered. The 
 submarine continued deliberately to fire. It 
 is one of the clearest cases on record of a Ger- 
 man submarine officer continuing to fire upon a 
 ship after she had surrendered and while the 
 crew were getting away the boats. The boat- 
 swain and three men were severely wounded by 
 shell splinters. A shell exploded in the fiddley 
 (or deck-house), setting the bunkers on fire. 
 Paraffin oil was pouring from the stricken ship, 
 slowly spreading a viscous surface upon the 
 heaving waters. 
 
 The master came on deck to find his own boat 
 gone, and the chief officer's boat waiting for 
 him, blood all about, five men huddled and help- 
 less, splinters flying, and, standing off in the 
 twilight, the sea-wolves at their murderous 
 work. 
 
 That night the boatswain died of his wounds 
 and was buried at sea. 
 
 It was February 7th, 1917, when the steam- 
 ship Saxonicm was attacked, and the crew sent 
 adrift in open boats in the North Atlantic. 
 
224 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 (Further south, the port lifeboat of the Dcwnt- 
 less was even then drifting with four starving 
 wretches in her.) 
 
 The chief officer's boat was picked up the 
 next morning by a patrol vessel. The second 
 officer's boat drifted for three days and three 
 nights, when she was picked up by one of his 
 Majesty's ships. (That was on the 10th, the 
 day after the Dauntless' survivors had been res- 
 cued by the Spanish fishermen.) 
 
 The patrol boat which found the chief officer 
 and his people steamed to the scene of the cap- 
 ture, and there beheld a sullenly undulating 
 field of oil, strewn with floating wreckage, the 
 remains of the Saxonian. 
 
XXXII 
 
 The Slavers 
 
 The story of the Gravina is told by one man, 
 a Spaniard, who escaped. He told the story in 
 a Scottish port, nearly three months after the 
 Gravina was lost. He came to the port in a 
 British ship, in which he was serving as fire- 
 man; and you can conceive the rough figure, 
 with its swarthy and hard features and dark 
 eyes, clad in stained seafaring clothes, telling 
 his adventures with point and freedom. There 
 is indeed in his narrative a certain vividness of 
 detail usually absent in the records of British 
 seamen. 
 
 The Spaniard was donkeyman in the steam- 
 ship Gravina, which was bound from a Spanish 
 port to London with a cargo of oranges. It was 
 on that fatal February 7th, 1917, when the Sax- 
 onian was put down, and the four men of the 
 Dauntless were drifting in their boat in the Bay 
 of Biscay, not to mention other calamities. The 
 Gravina was less than a hundred miles from the 
 coast of Ireland, pitching and rolling in a rough 
 sea. At about a quarter to eight in the evening 
 the donkeyman was attending to his engine, 
 
 225 
 
226 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 when he felt, as he says, a terrific explosion. 
 "Without knowing exactly how I got there," he 
 continues, "I found myself in the water, and 
 just got a glimpse of the ship before she sank. 
 The whole midship part seemed to have been 
 blown out of her. Her funnel and bridges were 
 gone, and she seemed to be in two parts. She 
 sank well inside of a minute. ' ' And that was the 
 end of the Gravina, torpedoed without warning. 
 
 Some of the crew clung to pieces of wreck. 
 Beaten upon by the cold sea, gradually freezing 
 to death, some thus kept afloat for three hours. 
 Then the submarine appeared, and cast life- 
 buoys attached to lines into the water, and so 
 drew fifteen wretched castaways on board, fif- 
 teen out of twenty-two of the crew of the Gra- 
 vina. It seems that the submarine waited for 
 three hours, because, owing to the arrival of a 
 British vessel of war, she was obliged to sub- 
 merge. 
 
 The rescued men were sent down the after 
 hatch of the submarine into her torpedo and 
 ammunition store, where they were each served 
 out with a glass of gin. There were the master, 
 two mates, the second engineer, one Norwegian, 
 two men of undefined nationality, and eight 
 Spanish firemen, among whom was the donkey- 
 man. 
 
 Says the donkeyman, "The commander and 
 officers of the submarine were delighted with 
 this piece of work, and talked of it as being 
 the finest explosion they had seen by a torpedo.' ' 
 
 The donkeyman, conversing with the German 
 sailors, was informed by them of the extraor- 
 
THE SLAVERS SW 
 
 dinary merits of German submarines and of 
 German guns and of everything German. The 
 donkeyman also learned that in addition to the 
 crew of the Gravina, there were two British 
 masters, prisoners of war, secluded in the for- 
 ward part of the vessel. 
 
 The seventeen captives were nine days on 
 board the submarine. During the whole of that 
 time, or the greater part of it, they were bat- 
 tened down in the hold. Of the miseries they 
 endured, of the foul atmosphere, the cramped 
 space, the deadly cold (for a submerged subma- 
 rine takes the temperature of the water), the 
 perpetual menace of death, or, failing death, the 
 terror of a German prison: of all these things, 
 the donkeyman says nothing. He merely re- 
 cords that the captives were fed well, chiefly on 
 tinned commodities. Now and again they heard 
 the firing of the gun on deck. 
 
 The German sailors told him that two more 
 steamers and a sailing ship had been sunk, and 
 that another steamer had been attacked, but had 
 beaten off the submarine with gunfire and 
 forced her to submerge. 
 
 On the ninth day of their captivity the 
 prisoners were landed at Heligoland, where 
 they were clapped in prison, " where we were 
 kept for three days, and lived on half a pound 
 of bread and turnips. ' ' 
 
 Thence the party was sent in a patrol steamer 
 to Bremerhaven, " where we were kept in a 
 commandeered restaurant, and then a barracks, 
 and fed on half a pound of bread, turnips and 
 weak coffee." 
 
228 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 Thence they were sent by rail to the huge 
 internment camp at Brandenburg. Here the 
 officers were separated from the men. At least 
 nine of the men were neutrals. The British 
 subjects were civilians, owning the rights of 
 the civilians of a belligerent country. But the 
 Germans treated neutrals and civilians alike as 
 slaves. 
 
 The men were quartered in a shed. They 
 were inoculated on the day of their arrival. 
 They were put to work. They were made to 
 saw wood and to build roads. They were paid 
 lm. 2f. a week. "And we still lived on half a 
 pound of bread and turnips." 
 
 One of the Spaniards protested against his 
 treatment, and was beaten about the head for 
 his pains. 
 
 The donkeyman knew not by what means his 
 repatriation was arranged; but after three 
 weeks ' slavery he and the rest of the Spaniards 
 were sent back through Switzerland to Spain. 
 Then he shipped again in a British ship, and so 
 came to Scotland, where he told his history. 
 
 What of the British prisoners? From that 
 ghastly slave camp of five or six thousand cap- 
 tives, Russians, French, Japanese and British, 
 arrive now and again sinister reports of the 
 brutality of sentries, of starvation, of the rob- 
 bing of their parcels of the British, of bullying 
 and maltreatment. It seems, however, that the 
 officers of the Gravina, after about a month in 
 purgatory, were moved to another camp. 
 
XXXIII 
 
 A Desperate Pass 
 
 There were wild weather and wicked doings 
 in the Atlantic on February 7th, 1917 ; but on 
 the other side of England, in the North Sea, it 
 seemed to the master of the little steamship 
 Hanna Larsen, that all was peaceful enough. 
 He had left the Port of London just after mid- 
 night on the preceding day, going down with the 
 tide, past the three-decker men-of-war training 
 hulks, and that mariner's mark, the spire of 
 Grave,send church, and round the wide bend past 
 Thameshaven, and so out to the Nore as the 
 sunrise shone ahead, and then he steered north. 
 
 The night of the 7th fell hazy and calm, with 
 a smooth sea. At a little after eleven o'clock 
 the master, leaving the second officer on the 
 bridge, went into the chart-room. 
 
 He was startled by the sound of a gunshot. 
 As he ran to the bridge three more shells sang 
 about his ears. The master could not detect 
 whence they came. He ordered the engines to 
 be reversed to take the way off the ship ; told the 
 second officer to read the patent log; assembled 
 the ship's company on deck, with the exception 
 of the chief engineer, a fireman and a donkey- 
 man who remained below. The boats were 
 swung out ready for lowering. Then nothing 
 
 229 
 
230 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 happened. They waited. They waited for a 
 quarter of an hour. The shots might have been 
 fired by a British ship at an enemy unseen by 
 the people of the Hanna Larsen; or a British 
 ship might have mistaken her for an enemy ; or 
 an enemy submarine might have opened fire, 
 and then taken fright at the approach of a Brit- 
 ish ship of war and dived. In that indecipher- 
 able and mysterious darkness anything was 
 possible. 
 
 The master decided to go on. When a ship 
 has been stopped and the crew are expecting in 
 imminent danger to abandon ship, it is always 
 something of a test of discipline to issue orders 
 to carry on. 
 
 The men returned to their stations; the en- 
 gines went slow ahead and then quickened to 
 full speed. A few minutes afterwards another 
 shot came over. It was fired from off the star- 
 board quarter and passed just over the bridge. 
 The master again reversed engines. He sound- 
 ed three blasts on the whistle, signifying 
 "Abandon ship." Three more shells were 
 fired, striking the boat deck and breaking a 
 steam-pipe, so that the steam poured up on deck. 
 The master ordered the men into the boats and 
 burned his confidential papers in the galley fire. 
 
 The unseen enemy continued to fire while the 
 men were embarking in the boats. The second 
 engineer, the steward and two able seamen were 
 wounded. 
 
 WTiile the two boats were pulling away from 
 the ship the master saw a submarine, gleaming 
 a faint grey upon the dark, stealing round the 
 
A DESPERATE PASS 231 
 
 bows of the ship. She bore no flag, nor mark 
 nor number. 
 
 The commanding officer of the submarine 
 hailed the boats and ordered them alongside. 
 As the men in the master's boat hung on to the 
 port-side of the submarine, a muffled figure in 
 her conning-tower demanded to be told where 
 was the master. When the master replied, he 
 was ordered on board the submarine, together 
 with four or five hands. The chief officer, two 
 able seamen and the engineer's steward fol- 
 lowed the master on board the enemy, a volun- 
 tary action on their part worth noting. 
 
 Five of the Hanna Lar sen's crew remained in 
 the boat, and these were joined by several Ger- 
 man sailors, bringing bombs on board. 
 
 In the meantime the second lifeboat had made 
 fast to the stern of the submarine. 
 
 The master told the commanding officer of the 
 submarine that one of the master's crew was 
 badly wounded in the head, whereupon the Ger- 
 man officer ordered one of his people to fetch 
 lint and dress the wound. 
 
 The master, being behind the conning-tower, 
 did not see what happened next, but the chief 
 engineer, in his boat astern of the submarine, 
 afterwards told the master that the master's 
 boat, partly manned by the five men of the 
 Hanna Larsen and partly by Germans, pulled 
 over to the Hanna Larsen, into which the Ger- 
 mans climbed. They slung their bombs over the 
 starboard side, searched the ship and took food 
 and clothing and other things, put these in the 
 boat, ignited the fuses of the bombs and pulled 
 
232 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 back to the submarine. A little after, flames lit 
 the night, and there were several heavy explo- 
 sions. 
 
 The chief officer, the steward and the two able 
 seamen who had followed the master on board 
 were ordered into their boat. The chief engi- 
 neer, in the other boat, was ordered on board 
 the submarine. With the master, he was sent 
 below. Then the commanding officer of the sub- 
 marine ordered the men in the two boats to 
 shove off. They were subsequently landed. 
 The wounded men went to hospital, where one 
 of the able seamen died. 
 
 Turn we to the master and the chief engineer, 
 helpless and captive among the strange and evil 
 under-water folk who had robbed them of their 
 ship. They contemplated the stiff, unseaman- 
 like figures, the hard and servile faces moving 
 in that long, rounded cell crammed with myste- 
 rious mechanism, going about their murderous 
 business in the dead of night ; and a more hope- 
 less situation the two British seamen had never 
 confronted. 
 
 Presently a German officer descended. He 
 wanted to know where the master kept his chro- 
 nometer, sextant and papers, because, he said, 
 a party was going to the Hanna Larsen again. 
 
 The master subsequently learned that the 
 ship was again plundered, and that she was 
 finally sunk by the explosion of bombs placed 
 inside the hull. (As a matter of fact, she did not 
 sink till the following day.) 
 
 The two prisoners slept that night in ham- 
 mocks on the floor. They slept. But the next 
 
A DESPERATE PASS 
 
 morning the master had no stomach for his 
 breakfast. Empty as he was, he was summoned 
 to the commanding officer, where he sat in 
 sacred isolation in his cabin aft. 
 
 The German offered wine to the master, 
 either because he was obviously ailing, or to 
 loosen his tongue, and proceeded to question 
 him as to the position of the British minefield. 
 Getting very little satisfaction on this point, the 
 German told the master that he, the master, and 
 the chief engineer had been taken prisoner, be- 
 cause orders had been issued to capture all 
 masters and chief engineers, so that the supply 
 of officers for the British merchant service 
 should be depleted. The German officer also 
 said that the two prisoners would be taken to 
 Zeebrugge and thence to Euhleben. He added 
 that he had put down eighteen ships, and would 
 sink thirty before he returned to port. That 
 was what he said. But he was mistaken. 
 
 After this encouraging conversation, the mas- 
 ter and the chief engineer occupied themselves 
 in deducing what was going forward on deck 
 from what they heard and saw below. They 
 had scarce a dull moment. 
 
 The submarine was cruising on the surface. 
 Soundings were taken every twenty minutes. 
 From time to time came the report and the vi- 
 bration of firing, the men below passingup shells 
 to the gunners on deck. After one of these at- 
 tacks a German brought down below a sextant, 
 a chronometer and a Norwegian flag, and proud- 
 ly exhibited these trophies to the prisoners. 
 
 The two prisoners, like others in the same 
 
234 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 case, saw no alternative in their future be- 
 tween being taken to a German prison camp, 
 and being sunk with the submarine by a British 
 ship of war. And in these waters, off the Eng- 
 lish coast, it was singularly probable that they 
 would be sent to the bottom without a chance of 
 escape, especially as the German officer in com- 
 mand was so busy and zealous. That morning, 
 for instance, he had begun at eight o 'clock with 
 the Norwegian . . . He was still at it. 
 
 It was about two hours later when a couple 
 of rounds were fired on deck; and the next 
 moment officers and men came tumbling down 
 below, exhibiting every mark of terror, and the 
 submarine was made hurriedly to dive. The 
 spectacle was far from inspiriting. 
 
 The two prisoners fortified themselves with 
 dinner, which was good and plentiful, and 
 awaited the next crisis. It arrived about half- 
 past one. 
 
 Firing broke out again on deck. It ceased, 
 and the submarine dived below the surface. Of- 
 ficers and men were clearly in a state of high 
 tension. There was a pause. Then came a for- 
 midable explosion, and a tremendous shock 
 jarred the submarine from end to end. The top 
 plating was burst open, and the water poured 
 into the vessel. Now, thought the two prison- 
 ers, it has come. This is the end. . . . 
 
 The commanding officer issued sharp orders 
 to the men at their stations beside the valves, 
 and the, submarine rose swiftly to the surface. 
 The captain, followed by the rest of the officers 
 and the whole of the crew, crowded up the lad- 
 ders. They left the engines running. They left 
 
A DESPERATE PASS 
 
 the two prisoners below, the water spouting 
 through the buckling plates into the chamber, 
 the vessel heeling over. Outside, shot after 
 shot rang out ; the two men below felt the shock 
 of their impact, and pieces of the conning-tower 
 crashed down the hatchway. 
 
 The master and the chief engineer decided to 
 die, if die they must, in the open. So up they 
 went, into the clean air and the daylight; and 
 there, ranging up alongside, was a British man- 
 of-war. The master flourished his handkerchief. 
 The Germans, each man's hand uplifted, stood 
 ranked along the heeling deck, like a row of 
 mechanical toys. Two Germans lay prone on 
 the deck, with blood about them. Two were 
 in the water. 
 
 The man-of-war was getting a boat away, and, 
 perceiving that the surrender was accepted, one 
 of the Germans went below and stopped the en- 
 gines. 
 
 The master and the chief engineer saw the 
 bluejackets swinging to their oars, saw the offi- 
 cer sitting in the stern-sheets, heard the order 
 "Way enough' ' as the boat curved round to 
 come alongside. 
 
 Then the master hailed. "We are two 
 Britishers, taken prisoners last night,' ■ he 
 bellowed. 
 
 ' ' Jump in, ' ' said the officer, as the boat drew 
 abreast of the tilted deck of the submarine. 
 
 As for the commanding officer of the subma- 
 rine, he was no more seen. He was first on the 
 conning-tower during the attack, and was killed 
 by a shell. So he did not sink thirty ships after 
 all. 
 
XXXIV 
 
 Sticking to It 
 
 The master of the oil tank-steamship Pinna, 
 having been on the bridge for many hours, was 
 taking what he called a cat-nap in the chart- 
 room, lying on the mattress ed seat, his head 
 close to the voice-tube communicating with the 
 bridge. Through his sleep there penetrated 
 into his consciousness the vision of a small craft 
 sailing off the starboard beam and firing at 
 something. The master sprang bright awake. 
 It was the chief officer 's voice speaking from the 
 bridge, and in a moment the master was stand- 
 ing beside him ; and both officers surveyed what 
 appeared to be a fishing boat under sail. And 
 yet it was not quite like a fishing boat. There 
 was something wrong about it — and why should 
 a fishing coble carry a gun? 
 
 It was towards seven o'clock of a calm, hazy 
 morning, February 12th, 1917. The Pinna, 
 carrying nearly 8,000 tins of refined petroleum, 
 was approaching the south-west coast. If the 
 strange sail was a submarine, with luck and 
 pluck the master might yet win port. 
 
 The master ordered the helm to be put over 
 to bring the suspicious sail astern. A gun 
 spoke from the boat, and a shell struck the 
 starboard bulwark abaft the forecastle. The 
 
 236 
 
STICKING TO IT 237 
 
 master, concluding that he had to deal with a 
 submarine, ran to the aft steering-engine and 
 took the wheel. 
 
 A shell missed the bridge and hit the main- 
 mast, and a splinter smashed the engine-room 
 telegraph on the bridge, severing communica- 
 tion with the engine-room. A shell struck the 
 poop; another pierced the counter, went 
 through a bulkhead and hit the engine stove. 
 
 The master, keeping the submarine astern, 
 perceived that she was overhauling him, and 
 hitting the ship where she liked at short range. 
 He stopped engines and ordered the boats away. 
 
 While the men were embarking, the subma- 
 rine, having ceased fire, slid up abeam on the 
 port side. When the crew on the port side had 
 pulled clear the submarine fired a torpedo, 
 striking the Pinna against No. 2 tank, and the 
 crew of the starboard boat, lying alongside the 
 ship, received a disagreeable shock. The mas- 
 ter, in the starboard boat, pulled round the stern 
 and joined the port boat, while the Pinna slowly 
 listed over to port. 
 
 The submarine had disappeared, probably 
 because she had observed the approach of a 
 patrol boat. 
 
 The captain of the patrol boat hailed the 
 master of the Pinna, offering to pick up the 
 crew. The master, although his ship had been 
 under fire and torpedoed, was perfectly com- 
 posed and vigilant. He told the captain of the 
 patrol boat to leave himself and the crew in the 
 boats, and suggested that the captain should 
 steam swiftly round and round the Pinna, while 
 the master tried to save her. 
 
238 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 Then the master called for volunteers. With 
 him, on board the injured ship, went the chief, 
 second and third engineers and a fireman, while 
 the patrol boat circled round her. That man- 
 oeuvre was some protection ; but it was far from 
 complete; and the working party toiling down 
 below in the engine-room risked being torpe- 
 doed. 
 
 They found enough steam still in the boiler 
 to work the pumps, and began to pump out one 
 of the tanks in order to lighten the ship and so 
 get her on an even keel. After about three- 
 quarters of an hour she was righted. 
 
 The captain of the patrol boat arranged to 
 take the Pinna in tow ; a hawser was carried on 
 board by the people of the Pinna and made fast. 
 In the meantime another patrol vessel had come 
 along, and, concluding that all was now well, 
 had gone away. 
 
 The crew in the boats of the Pinna were get- 
 ting on board, when the master suddenly per- 
 ceived the periscope of the submarine. He 
 shouted to the captain of the patrol boat to re- 
 call by wireless the second patrol boat. But it 
 was too late. A torpedo struck the ship where 
 the first had struck her. 
 
 But the master was undefeated. He stuck to 
 it that the ship would not and should not sink. 
 Nor did she. They worked away at the pumps ; 
 more patrol boats came up ; the Pinna was taken 
 in tow ; and that evening, at seven o 'clock, just 
 twelve hours after she was torpedoed, she was 
 safely beached. 
 
 The Pinna was afterwards floated and re- 
 paired. 
 
XXXV 
 
 A Fishing Trip 
 
 You know the steam trawler — the stout, 
 broad-beamed craft with deck-house amidships, 
 and one portly funnel, a large square hatch cov- 
 ering the fish-hold, and a dinghy fixed aft. 
 
 The grey-bearded master and his six or eight 
 hands are seasoned, like their vessel, to all 
 weathers; for they fish the North Sea, wet or 
 fine, storm or calm, summer and winter, peace 
 or war. 
 
 At midnight of February 5th-6th, 1917, the 
 steam trawler Adelaide was some thirty miles 
 from a north-country port. The master was 
 sleeping below, when he was roused out by a 
 deck hand who told him that a submarine was 
 firing at the Adelaide. (There used to be an im- 
 pression that in an abstract theory, called inter- 
 national law, fishing craft were outside warlike 
 operations.) 
 
 The master, going on deck, saw a long, grey 
 shape lying on the water in the brilliant moon- 
 light, a little way off on the starboard quarter. 
 The master ordered the boat away. The sub- 
 
 239 
 
240 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 marine fired two more shots while the men were 
 lowering the boat. The boat pulled clear. The 
 submarine drew alongside the boat, and the 
 officer on the conning-tower peremptorily or- 
 dered the people of the Adelaide on board. 
 
 The German had no murderous design. He 
 was merely in need of a few little things. He 
 ordered two of the Adelaide's crew to return on 
 board with three German sailors. The Germans 
 carried with them the bombs without which they 
 seldom travel. (No doubt in future vessels will 
 be fitted with a rack to hold the bombs of visi- 
 tors.) On board the Adelaide the Germans de- 
 posited their explosives in the engine-room, 
 ordered the British seamen to open the condens- 
 ers, took all the spanners they could find, se- 
 cured the stock of provisions, stole the flags, 
 ignited the fuses of the bombs and sheered off. 
 
 The submarine officer ordered the crew of the 
 Adelaide into their boats. "They had just 
 nicely got in," says the master, "when there 
 were three loud explosions on the said ship (the 
 Adelaide ).' ' The Germans gave to the master a 
 loaf of bread (his own). One loaf among nine 
 men, each of whom is accustomed to eat a loaf 
 or two loaves at a meal, is small, sustenance for 
 a thirty mile pull. 
 
 Then the submarine went away. It was 
 about a quarter to four. There is one thing 
 your seaman never in any circumstances for- 
 gets. He always notes the time. Torpedoed, 
 under fire, sinking, in the water, as long as he is 
 alive the seaman notes the time, G. M. T. And 
 when he fetches up in Port of Heaven he will 
 
A FISHING TRIP 241 
 
 know approximately at what hour and so many 
 minutes his spirit quitted its mortal tenement. 
 
 The master steered by the moon till the sun 
 rose, and then he steered by the sun. The crew 
 rowed for eight hours. 
 
 The conning-tower of a submarine rose above 
 the surface, and the crew of the Adelaide hung 
 on their oars in a deadly suspense. But it was 
 a British officer who emerged on the conning- 
 tower, and a British voice which hailed them to 
 come to breakfast. 
 
 This was a lucky trip. The men of the Ade- 
 laide lost ship and gear. Many of their mates 
 have lost life and limb as well. 
 
XXXVI 
 
 Twice Running 
 
 The North Atlantic (that arena of disaster), 
 a confused swell, noon of Tuesday, March 6th, 
 1917. The steamship Fenay Lodge heading 
 towards France, a ring of haze, about ten miles 
 in diameter, closing her in. 
 
 A torpedo struck her on the starboard side; 
 the master ordered the crew into the boats, and 
 away they went. They pulled for about half an 
 hour, the water breaking over them, when, half- 
 hidden in the mist, the submarine emerged into 
 view and opened fire on the deserted ship. Pres- 
 ently both ship and submarine were lost to sight. 
 
 There were twenty-seven persons in the Fe- 
 nay Lodge, all British except one Dutchman and 
 one Eussian. In two boats they drifted head to 
 sea in the bitter weather, the rest of that day, 
 Tuesday, and all that night, and the morning of 
 Wednesday. Then, towards noon, they sighted 
 a steamship; pulled towards her, making sig- 
 nals of distress, and were taken on board. She 
 was a French ship, the Ohio, 
 
 The castaways had scarce shifted into dry 
 clothing and eaten and drunk, when the Ohio 
 
 242 
 
TWICE RUNNING 243 
 
 was struck by a torpedo. She went down in 
 three minutes. No other details are available. 
 
 Half an hour after the people of the Fenay 
 Lodge had been picked up they were again 
 adrift. But five of them had been drowned in 
 the sinking of the Ohio. 
 
 The three boats, containing the survivors of 
 the Fenay Lodge and the Frenchmen, drifted 
 head to sea in the bitter weather for the rest of 
 the day. About six in the evening they sighted 
 a steamer. She bore down upon them. She was 
 a British ship, the Winnebago, and, stopping 
 alongside the tossing boats, the master offered 
 to take them on board. He was answered by so 
 confused a shouting in French and English that 
 at first he could make nothing of it. But pres- 
 ently he understood that the men were warning 
 him that there were three enemy submarines 
 about, and that they refused to be taken on 
 board. 
 
 They were some two hundred miles from land, 
 and they refused to be taken on board. The 
 master of the Winnebago had done all he could ; 
 if the castaways thought open boats preferable 
 to a stout ship, it was their affair, and he went 
 on. 
 
 The men of the Fenay Lodge and the men of 
 the Ohio drifted head to sea in the bitter 
 weather all that Wednesday night, and all 
 Thursday morning. At three o'clock in the 
 afternoon a patrol boat ran up alongside and 
 took on board twenty-two men of the Fenay 
 Lodge and five officers and twenty-seven men 
 of the French ship Ohio, 
 
xxxvn 
 
 The Fight of the "Aracataca" 
 
 The master, on the bridge of the Aracataca, 
 did not hear the report of the first gun fired, 
 but the gunner, standing by his gun aft, marked 
 the splash of a projectile falling close by the 
 rudder. Then the master heard a distant 
 detonation. For one moment he could see noth- 
 ing; the next, a shell dived into the sea on the 
 port bow. Two or three shells struck the ship, 
 and still there was no submarine in sight. The 
 chief steward came running up to the bridge to 
 report that a man whose hand had been blown 
 off, had come to the saloon, and that several 
 other men in the forecastle were dangerously 
 wounded. 
 
 The captain knew from the position of the 
 arrival of the projectiles that the submarine 
 was astern. Here was the event for which he 
 had been diligently rehearsing officers and men. 
 
 The two gunners aft received the signal to 
 return the fire, as soon as the second shell came 
 over, together with directions as to range, and 
 they went steadily and swiftly to work. At the 
 same time up went the red ensign. 
 
 244 
 
THE FIGHT OF THE "ARACATACA" 245 
 
 All the ship's officers, except the engineers, 
 came to the bridge. The chief officer took the 
 wheel. The other officers carried messages and 
 acted as requisite. 
 
 The section of the crew which had been 
 trained for the purpose, went to their stations, 
 and passed up ammunition. 
 
 The wireless operator sent out warnings, but 
 no distress signals, because the master "did 
 not consider himself in distress.' ' Answers 
 were immediately received. From one of his 
 Majesty's ships came a reply saying that she 
 would arrive in half an hour. The two vessels 
 continued to talk to each other during the action. 
 
 The gunners of the Aracataca exchanged shot 
 for shot with the submarine. As each shell of 
 the enemy came over the master noted the posi- 
 tion of the splash, and altered course accord- 
 ingly. 
 
 The firing on both sides was rapid. Amid the 
 regular reports of the guns, the smoke and crash 
 of bursting shells, a rumour ran about the ship, 
 that the ammunition locker had been blown up, 
 and the cool and wary master observed signs of 
 consternation among the crew. 
 
 The master went below and spoke to the men, 
 telling them that the Aracataca was gaining on 
 the submarine and that help would arrive inside 
 half an hour. The men turned to at once. Such 
 is the value of leadership. 
 
 Coming on deck, the master called together 
 the deck hands, rallied them with a few hearty 
 words, and asked them to take on any duty that 
 might be required of them. The men responded 
 
246 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 with a will. Some of the seamen went below to 
 do the work of those firemen and trimmers who 
 had been injured. 
 
 The gunners, one of whom was the carpenter, 
 a volunteer, were sticking to their gun, and 
 although the submarine manoeuvred to place 
 herself dead in the rays of the sun, the Arar- 
 cataca gunners made very good shooting, per- 
 ceptibly bewildering the submarine. 
 
 The action hotly continued, in a brisk breeze, 
 a choppy and sunlit sea, the big ship swiftly 
 manoeuvring, belching fire from her stern gun, 
 beside which the carpenter stood exposed dur- 
 ing the fight, the conning-tower of the subma- 
 rine, astern of the steamship, gliding steadily 
 onwards, now wreathed in smoke, now glitter- 
 ing in the sun. 
 
 And all the time the chief steward, below, was 
 doing the grisly work of a surgeon. The wound- 
 ed men were brought from the forecastle and 
 laid on the table of the saloon. With his mates, 
 the chief steward improvised dressings and 
 tourniquets. When he had done he reported to 
 the master, (1) that the cases were very serious, 
 (2) that his stock of medical appliances was very 
 limited, (3) that he had stopped all bleeding. 
 
 One man, a fireman, lay dead in the forecastle. 
 He had been killed instantaneously. His body 
 was taken from the forecastle and laid in a place 
 by itself. Thus all was done decently and in 
 order. 
 
 The action began at one o'clock. At some 
 time during the first half -hour a shell pierced 
 the funnel, entered the deck-house and burst in 
 
THE FIGHT OF THE "ARACATACA" 247 
 
 the galley, and another shell sang between the 
 master and the chief officer and smashed the 
 fore part of the bridge on which they were 
 standing, and, bursting, scattered shrapnel. 
 
 But presently the fire of the enemy became 
 less frequent and the shells went wide. The 
 submarine was receiving better than she sent. 
 At the end of three-quarters of an hour, the 
 master, watching the fall of the shells from the 
 Aracataca's gun, saw the conning-tower vanish 
 in a smother of smoke and spray. When it 
 blew away the submarine was lying motionless 
 athwart her course, and her gun was silent. 
 The Aracataca had beaten her. 
 
 Four minutes later a British vessel of war 
 hove in sight, and promptly steered to place 
 herself between the submarine and the steam- 
 ship. 
 
 But the submarine was done. The Aracataca 
 saw her no more, and came safely into port. 
 The master reported that the crew behaved 
 to the master's "entire satisfaction, ' ' and espe- 
 cially commended the services of the chief stew- 
 ard, who saved the lives of the wounded men, 
 and whose amateur surgery was so good that 
 the doctors who treated the men in port affirmed 
 that it was as well done ' ' as any man could do 
 it." The master also especially commended the 
 two gunners, of whom one was the carpenter, 
 "the latter taking a prominent position at the 
 gun throughout the whole action in a most ex- 
 posed position, being entirely voluntary." 
 
 As for the master himself, his skilled organic 
 sation, composure, resource and courage won 
 
248 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 him one of the most notable fights of the British 
 merchant service. It was fought on March 
 10th, 1917. 
 
 The German beast of prey was outfought and 
 outmanoeuvred from the beginning, although he 
 struck first and murderously. The master of 
 the Aracataca had defeated the submarine ere 
 the ship of war arrived. 
 
XXXVIII 
 
 The Blackguard 
 
 The events of March 27th, 1917, are, like the 
 night that covered them, darkly clear, with here 
 and there significant and daunting glimpses 
 opening between great spaces of blackness and 
 again obscured. And those glimpses are the 
 reflection of a reflection in the mind's mirror 
 of two men. 
 
 One was the gunner of the steamship Thracia, 
 a private of the Boyal Marines. The time was 
 between eight and nine o'clock at night; the 
 ship was in the Channel, bound to a home port ; 
 the gunner was on duty, stationed at his gun on 
 the poop. He heard a sharp detonation, which 
 (he said) sounded like the crack of a pistol fired 
 somewhere forward. A column of water min- 
 gled with black smoke shot up forward of the 
 bridge to starboard. Four short blasts sounded 
 on the syren, signifying " Abandon ship." The 
 gunner ran forward, mingling with a crowd of 
 hurrying figures in the dark, felt the ship sink- 
 ing downwards towards the bows beneath his 
 feet as he ran, and understood that she would 
 go down ere the boats could be lowered. He 
 turned and ran back to the gun to fetch his life- 
 belt, slung it on, climbed on the rail to dive, 
 "and before he knew exactly what had hap- 
 
 249 
 
250 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 pened he found himself in the sea." Events, 
 as they do on these occasions, succeeded one 
 another more swiftly than consciousness could 
 register. 
 
 The gunner was drawn deep down in the icy 
 water, came up again, and struck out, shouting 
 for help with all his strength. He swam and 
 shouted during what, with a seaman's particu- 
 larity, he estimated to be a period of twenty 
 minutes, rising and falling with the lop of sea, 
 fighting for his life, and then there came an- 
 swering calls, a boat loomed above him, and 
 he was hauled on board. She had been lowered 
 from a neutral steamer, which afterwards 
 landed the sturdy Marine at an English port. 
 He thought at first he was the sole survivor of 
 the Thracia. 
 
 When the gunner on deck heard a detonation 
 like the report of a pistol, the acting fourth 
 officer, a boy of fifteen, who was just getting 
 into his bunk below, felt a shock as of "a small 
 explosion about the main bunker." As he ran 
 up on deck in his shirt, the syren blew the sig- 
 nal " Abandon ship." The next thing the boy 
 knew, he was being drawn down with the sink- 
 ing vessel. 
 
 Struggling to the surface, he saw a capsized 
 boat, swam to it, and found it was part of the 
 starboard lifeboat, of which the stern had been 
 blown off. The fourth officer climbed in the 
 boat and lashed himself to it. Other men swam 
 to the boat and hung on. The fourth officer 
 counted seven. He made out that two among 
 them were badly hurt. The other men could 
 
THE BLACKGUARD 251 
 
 give them no help, and the two wounded men 
 were washed away and drowned. The rest hung 
 on for a while. Then the black hulk of a steamer 
 loomed about a mile distant, and three of the 
 men resolved to swim to her. They dropped off 
 and started. Five minutes afterwards the 
 steamer vanished. The three men were never 
 seen again. 
 
 At this point, the fourth officer, drenched by 
 the sea and stabbed by the sword of the frozen 
 wind, became partially unconscious. When he 
 revived a little the two remaining men of the 
 seven were gone. 
 
 What woke the lad to some perception was 
 the sound of a voice, calling in English. He 
 saw a long, dark shape heaving to leeward, and 
 understood that it was a German submarine, 
 and that a German officer was asking him ques- 
 tions. 
 
 The German asked what ship he had sunk, 
 whence she came, whither she was bounfl, and 
 what was her cargo. The fourth officer gave 
 the information. 
 
 "Are you an Englishman ?" asked the Ger- 
 man officer. 
 
 The boy replied that he was. 
 
 "Then," said the German, "I shall shoot 
 you." 
 
 "Shoot away," said the fourth officer. 
 
 So disrespectful an answer naturally hurt the 
 sensitive German. 
 
 "I shall not waste powder on a pig of an 
 Englishman," was the German officer's majes- 
 tic retort. 
 
252 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 At this point, the German seems to have per- 
 mitted a just indignation to overcome his nat- 
 ural delicacy of feeling. 
 
 " Drown, you swine, drown !" he shouted, 
 and sheered off. 
 
 The officer of his Imperial Majesty's Navy in 
 command of the submarine left the child adrift 
 on his bit of wreckage. There the boy drifted, 
 lashed, helpless and to all appearance dead, all 
 that night. The sun rose on that spectacle in 
 the bitter March morning, and still the boy 
 tossed and tumbled in the breaking sea. 
 
 There, at half -past ten (the fourth officer of 
 course marks the time, though he was very 
 nearly dead), a fishing boat espied the casta- 
 way, bore down and took him on board. He 
 had been more than thirteen hours in the water. 
 
 Of thirty-eight persons, these two were saved : 
 the gunner and the acting fourth officer, aged 
 fifteen and a half years. 
 
 The sea, as we know, is blind and pitiless ; but 
 the sea spared the lad who defied the German. 
 If that chivalrous officer still defiles the sea, or 
 befouls the land, he may reflect that he was 
 silly to give way to temper, after all; because 
 if there was one thing which would make that 
 boy resolve to live, it was the German's order 
 that he should drown. The German officer 
 should have shot the fourth officer, as the child 
 suggested, instead of being piqued and haugh- 
 tily refusing that simple request. He seems to 
 have lacked a sense of humour. "We are a 
 serious nation/ ' a German naval officer once 
 said to the present writer. 
 
Settling the Score 
 
 When the master of the Palm Branch had 
 his first dispute with the enemy, his ship was 
 an unarmed target, and so he must trust to his 
 skill in retreat. In the second affair it was not 
 so. 
 
 On November 21st, 1916, in grey autumn 
 weather, the Palm Branch was off the coast of 
 France. At a little before two o'clock in the 
 afternoon, the master, who was on the bridge, 
 saw the conning-tower of a submarine rise out 
 of the sea within forty yards of his port quarter. 
 As soon as the submarine was awash, men 
 swiftly put together a gun aft of the conning- 
 tower. 
 
 It was an emergency for which the master had 
 been looking for two years. While the Germans 
 were fitting the gun, the master of the Palm 
 Branch put his helm over to get the submarine 
 right astern, and ordered full speed ahead. 
 The chief engineer himself went down to tjie 
 stokehold to encourage the firemen during the 
 trouble. 
 
 It began five minutes after the submarine 
 had emerged. She opened fire. The first few 
 
 253 
 
254 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 shells missed the ship. Then they began to hit 
 her. The submarine, manoeuvring to get a 
 broadside aim, was continually defeated in her 
 design by the master of the Palm Branch, who 
 swung his ship to keep the enemy astern. The 
 submarine continued to fire with explosive and 
 shrapnel shells. 
 
 The rest of the officers were each at the in- 
 stant disposal of the master. Beside him the 
 apprentice was at the wheel. 
 
 Under that steady fire at short range the stern 
 of the ship was damaged, and the quarters of 
 the crew aft were knocked to pieces; the port 
 lifeboat was shot away; the starboard lifeboat 
 had a hole through it. The bridge was hit and a 
 seaman was wounded. At the same time the 
 apprentice was struck on the head by a splinter. 
 He stuck to the wheel, blood running down his 
 face. 
 
 Shells entered the forecastle, wrecked the 
 men's bunks, and a fire broke out. The chief 
 officer instantly called a working party to ex- 
 tinguish the fire, and checked the alarm of the 
 deck hands, who heartily responded to his ap- 
 peal. 
 
 After half an hour of this work, the subma- 
 rine, which had been kept right astern of the 
 Palm Branch, and which did not pursue her, 
 ceased fire and went away to attack a fleet of 
 fishing boats, easier game. 
 
 Thus did the master save a valuable ship for 
 his King and country. The Palm Branch ran 
 into a French port to repair damages. 
 
 Thence she proceeded upon her voyage ; and 
 
SETTLING THE SCORE 255 
 
 upon her arrival in an American port, aroused 
 some little excitement in America, because here 
 was a ship which had been under fire and which 
 had escaped. 
 
 The master of the Palm Branch continued 
 upon his lawful occasions, and a paternal Gov- 
 ernment gave him a gun to play with. 
 
 Some five months after his encounter with 
 the German, the master of the Palm Branch 
 brought her into the White Sea, The afternoon 
 of May 4th, 1917, fell fine, with a light breeze 
 and a smooth sea, At a little before four 
 o'clock, the master on the bridge saw the peri- 
 scope of a submarine rise above the glassy sur- 
 face about a quarter of a mile from the ship, 
 on the port beam. 
 
 The gunner, stationed aft at his gun, saw the 
 track of a torpedo whitening towards the ship. 
 The torpedo passed astern of the Palm Branch, 
 missing her by about eight feet. 
 
 At the same time the conning-tower of the 
 submarine began to rise, and the gunner of the 
 Palm Branch fired. The shell struck the con- 
 ning-tower. The gunner's second shot pierced 
 the hull of the submarine, which sank. 
 
 As she sank, a shell fired at long range came 
 over the Palm Branch. It came from a second 
 submarine. The master ordered full speed and 
 steered a zig-zag course, while the two gunners 
 kept a steady fire upon the submarine. 
 
 All the crew were at their stations; the offi- 
 cers were at the disposal of the master ; his or- 
 ganisation worked perfectly. So accurate was 
 the shooting of the Palm Branch that the sub- 
 
256 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 marine dropped further astern, lengthening the 
 range from 4,000 to 7,500 yards. She was firing 
 continuously from two guns. 
 
 Bewildered and hampered by the fire of the 
 Palm Branch, the submarine fired about eighty 
 rounds in the space of something under an hour ; 
 she did not touch the Palm Branch once. 
 
 Presently the gunner of the Palm Branch 
 placed a shell on the after gun of the submarine, 
 knocking it to pieces. Then some British trawl- 
 ers appeared, steaming at full speed and con- 
 verging on the submarine. The submarine 
 ceased fire. She was done, fairly beaten by gun 
 fire ; and the last the Palm Branch saw of her, 
 she was lying like a log on the water. So the 
 master of the Palm Branch was quits with the 
 enemy. 
 
 The Admiralty stated that they considered 
 his achievement due to the excellent discipline 
 and preparation for defence which he habit- 
 ually maintained in the Palm Branch. 
 
XL 
 
 The Raft 
 
 The story of the Serapis is a short story, be- 
 cause, like many another of these cruel records, 
 it includes spaces of time concerning whose 
 events no more than a suggestion is practicable. 
 Men who for days and nights have been burning 
 and freezing in open boats, sick with hunger 
 and tormented by thirst, seldom describe their 
 sensations. They happily forget them, or they 
 are brought to so low a level of consciousness 
 that all is merged in dull suffering ; or, for the 
 sake of their own peace of mind, they refuse to 
 peer into, the glass of memory. . . . 
 
 The Serapis had brought the crew of a tor- 
 pedoed ship into port, so that when she sailed 
 again every man on board owned a vivid notion 
 of what might happen to himself. But it did 
 not occur to anyone to desert on that account. 
 
 The Serapis was one day out. At about six 
 o'clock on Tuesday, June 26th, 1917, when she 
 was midmost of the Irish Sea, a torpedo struck 
 her on the starboard side and exploded between 
 the engine-room and the hold. Instantly she 
 heeled over on her beam ends, and the men 
 
 257 
 
258 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 who had rushed to get away the port lifeboat 
 were flung into the water. Then the Serapis 
 sank bodily. A minute elapsed between the ex- 
 plosion of the torpedo and the total disappear- 
 ance of the ship. 
 
 The long swell was strewn with swimming 
 men and wreckage, men clinging to planks and 
 pieces of the ship, men drowning, broken frag- 
 ments which had been men, and men dead. 
 
 Then uprose from the depths the German 
 submarine, and her commanding officer sur- 
 veyed his work from the conning-tower, and 
 found it to his mind. He hailed the drowning 
 men, demanding the captain and the chief offi- 
 cer ; and when these had replied, he brought the 
 submarine alongside the captain and ordered 
 his men to haul him on board. He sent the 
 captain below, picked up the chief officer, and 
 sent him below also. 
 
 Then the German officer went away and left 
 all the rest of the people of the Serapis to 
 drown. 
 
 A steamer was visible on the horizon, and the 
 submarine steered towards her. 
 
 The second officer beheld all these things, and 
 perceived that the command now devolved upon 
 himself. He set about to save life. Swimming 
 on his plank, he collected more pieces of wreck- 
 age, and with pieces of rigging made shift to 
 bind them together into a raft. Four men be- 
 sides himself huddled on the raft. A little way 
 off three men were sitting on another assem- 
 blage of wreckwood, and the two rafts drifted 
 slowly away in company. They left a few of 
 
THE RAFT 259 
 
 the crew clinging to spar and locker. The rest 
 had gone down. 
 
 All that night the second officer and the four 
 men drifted on the swell. Here is one of those 
 spaces of time of which the record is a sinister 
 blank. Let who will imagine the plight of men 
 insecurely riding a bulk of sodden timber in 
 mid-sea, continually beaten upon by the break- 
 ing water, through the infinitely long hours of 
 the night. 
 
 When the sun rose its first rays gleamed upon 
 the second officer's raft, alone. 
 
 The raft capsized, throwing the five casta- 
 ways into the water. Paralysed by the cold of 
 the night, three men sank and were drowned. 
 The second officer and one man climbed des- 
 perately back upon the raft. 
 
 As the sun rose higher the seaman began to 
 babble and to shout, his voice continuing amid 
 the vast silence of the sea in the high monotone 
 of the delirious. By degrees he fell to moaning. 
 Presently he was silent. The second officer was 
 now alone with the dead man. 
 
 And here is another blank space of time. 
 
 Whether or not the second officer perceived 
 the submarine approaching him he does not re- 
 cord. All he says is that at three o 'clock in the 
 afternoon he was picked up by a British sub- 
 marine. 
 
XLI 
 
 The Flying Death 
 
 On May 20th, 1917, a thick haze covered the 
 waters off the East Coast, and a steamship lay 
 at anchor waiting for light. At a little after 
 one the fog lifted, and hung like a filmy roof 
 over the sea. The master of the Birchgrove 
 weighed anchor and went on his way. 
 
 He heard the drone of aircraft engines; and 
 presently sighted two aeroplanes flying fast 
 and low, sweeping ont of the haze directly 
 towards his ship. 
 
 The next moment there came the chatter of 
 machine-guns, and bullets spattered about the 
 bridge. The master saw a strange dark object 
 flying downwards, and an aerial torpedo 
 plunged into the sea alongside and dived under 
 the ship without touching her. The master put 
 the helm over, and so swiftly altered course. 
 He was just in time, for a second torpedo, fired 
 at 200 yards, passed within ten feet of the stern. 
 
 The master marked the black crosses painted 
 on the underside of the planes, ran up the red 
 ensign, ordered the crew below, ordered the 
 gun's crew to open fire. The two seaplanes had 
 
 260 
 
THE FLYING DEATH 261 
 
 continued machine-gun fire from the first shot, 
 and the bullets continued to whistle all about 
 the bridge. 
 
 The pilot remained on the bridge with the 
 master, the two gunners served their gun 
 astern. No one else was on deck. Below, the 
 firemen were shovelling coal for their lives. 
 
 The master, staring upwards, saw the great 
 birds gliding above, each ridden by a hooded 
 figure, each spurting flame. 
 
 The gunner of the Birchgrove, cool and un- 
 hurried, trained his gun with care. At his first 
 shot the two seaplanes turned about, and ris- 
 ing, steered eastward, whence they had come. 
 The gunner of the Birchgrove fired again and 
 again, his third shot either hitting the enemy 
 or going just over him. Another shot, and the 
 two seaplanes were out of sight, and in a little 
 while the drone of their flight died away. 
 
 The discipline and organisation of the master 
 and the steady marksmanship of the gunners 
 saved the Birchgrove. They also saved three 
 defenceless foreign vessels which were steam- 
 ing within range of the seaplanes. 
 
XLII 
 
 Brethren of the Shark 
 
 Very early on Sunday morning, July 15th, 
 1917, the steamship Mariston, homeward bound 
 in the North Atlantic, was within about a hun- 
 dred miles of land. The evidence of the man- 
 ner of her loss and the sequel is the deposition 
 of the only survivor, who was the cook. 
 
 When the torpedo struck the ship the cook 
 was asleep in his bunk, in the house on the main 
 deck. He was awakened by being hurled up- 
 wards against the ceiling, with the crash of an 
 explosion in his ears. The mess-room steward, 
 who was asleep in the bunk below the cook, con- 
 tinued to slumber, nor did he wake when the 
 cook shook him. Already the water was surg- 
 ing about the cook's ankles, and dripping 
 through the seams of the deck above; and the 
 cook ran out upon the main deck, which was 
 awash. He seems to remember seeing the ap- 
 prentice following him as he doubled to the 
 midship cabin to rouse the steward. He never 
 reached the steward, because a second explo- 
 sion, catching him on the way, blew the midship 
 
 Amid the tumult, the black smoke and the 
 cabin to pieces. 
 
 262 
 
BRETHREN OF THE SHARK 263 
 
 pieces of the ship falling about his ears, the 
 cook, as he ran aft, was aware of the chief gun- 
 ner. The ship was sinking rapidly; the main 
 deck was level with the breaking sea, and the 
 cook caught up a hatch and plunged overboard, 
 followed by the chief gunner. Both men clung 
 to the hatch; the ship went down bodily, stern 
 first; and there came a mighty rush of water. 
 When it had passed the cook was alone on his 
 hatch. He never saw the gunner again. 
 
 In the colourless light of an overcast sunrise 
 the cook beheld the long, confused rollers 
 strewn with wreckage, and counted seventeen 
 men clinging to the pieces of the ship. 
 
 Then up from the troubled waters projected 
 two periscopes, like two horns, then the two 
 conning-towers of the submarine, and then her 
 long hull, shiny and black as coal, hove dripping 
 upon the swell. To the cook she loomed as 
 great as the five-thousand-ton ship she had just 
 sent to the bottom. All along her side, revealed 
 in curves of the moving sea, waved festoons of 
 green weed and slimy barnacles. She carried 
 a gun forward and a gun aft. 
 
 The hatch on the conning-tower lifted, and 
 there emerged a German officer. The men in 
 the water were crying and shouting for help. 
 The German officer surveyed the field of de- 
 struction through his glasses. Presently he 
 dropped them, leisurely disappeared down the 
 hatch, which shut, and the submarine began to 
 sink. She settled steadily down, amid the cries 
 of rage of the drowning men, until the peri- 
 scopes alone were visible. Then they glided 
 
264 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 away, cutting through the seas, each square, 
 hooded pole flirting a feather of foam. . . . 
 
 The cook, tossing on his little raft, kept 
 counting the men in sight; and every time he 
 counted he made the total less. Then he heard 
 a man scream, and saw him throw up his hands ; 
 and he saw the black fin of a shark cleaving the 
 lop of sea, and the flash of white as the great 
 fish turned over to snatch its prey. The cook 
 saw (he says) "a crowd of sharks," and heard 
 man after man screaming as he was dragged 
 under. 
 
 That is all he says. It is perhaps adequate. 
 A theory may here be hazarded that the sharks 
 follow the submarines. . . . They could make 
 their profit of the voyage. 
 
 As the sun rose, the wind and the sea went 
 down on that desolation; and still the cook 
 tossed on his hatch, until he was the last alive. 
 He thinks it was about ten o'clock when he 
 found himself utterly alone, except for the 
 sharks. By that time he had been some six 
 hours in the water. 
 
 At about five o'clock that evening, the mas- 
 ter of a British steamship sighted a space of sea 
 dotted all over with drifting wreckage. He 
 steered towards it, and passed through a field 
 of floating timbers and fittings and packing- 
 cases; and on its further fringe he espied the 
 figure of a man floating on a hatch. 
 
 It was half -past six when the cook was hauled 
 into the steamer's boat and brought aboard, and 
 revived and comforted. So he lived to tell his 
 tale, alone of all the people in the Mansion. 
 
xLin 
 
 The Case op the "Belgian Prince" 
 
 Forty-three seamen of the steamship Bel- 
 gian Prince were crowded on the deck of a Ger- 
 man submarine, in the steely twilight of a sum- 
 mer night, and one, the master, was below, a 
 prisoner. The submarine was running awash. 
 Astern, the abandoned ship loomed momently 
 more dim. In the minds of every one of those 
 forty-three seamen there dwelt a terrible ap- 
 prehension. 
 
 The attack on the Belgian Prince followed the 
 usual routine. She was struck, without warn- 
 ing, by a torpedo. It was then about eight 
 o'clock on the evening of July 31st, 1917, and 
 the ship was two hundred miles from the north 
 coast of Ireland. The master called away the 
 boats, and the crew embarked, leaving the mas- 
 ter on board to clear up his affairs. The port 
 lifeboat put back and took him off. The Ger- 
 man submarine emerged and opened fire from 
 her machine-gun upon the ship 's aerials, which 
 she destroyed. Then the commanding officer 
 of the submarine ordered the two boats along- 
 side, took the master on board, and sent him 
 
 265 
 
266 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 below, ordering all the crew on board. They 
 were received with furious abuse by the Ger- 
 mans, who searched their captives, taking from 
 them all their possessions. Money and other 
 articles of value the pirates pocketed; other 
 things they hove overboard. In the meantime 
 a working party took everything out of the 
 boats. The compasses and provisions were put 
 into the submarine. Oars, gratings, bailers and 
 all loose gear were thrown overboard. The two 
 lifeboats were damaged by axes. The plugs 
 were removed, and they were left to sink. The 
 master's dinghy was retained. Several Ger- 
 mans pulled her over to the ship, in which they 
 remained. 
 
 These things the crew of the Belgian Prince 
 beheld, contemplating, while they were being 
 violently robbed, the destruction of their last 
 hope of escape. 
 
 The commanding officer of the submarine, a 
 fair, bearded man of thirty-five or so, ordered 
 the seamen to take off their lifebelts and place 
 them on the deck. Then he strode along the 
 deck, among the men, whom he cursed, kicking 
 the lifebelts overboard. But four men at least 
 contrived to hide their lifebelts under their 
 coats. 
 
 From the Belgian Prince, in which were the 
 Germans who had gone to her in the dinghy, a 
 signal flashed. The submarine got under way; 
 the captives, as already described, were crowded 
 on her deck, as her engines slowly ground her 
 through the water. So, for about half an hour. 
 
 Then there came another signal flashed from 
 
CASE OF THE "BELGIAN PRINCE" 267 
 
 the place where the ship lay shrouded in the 
 thickening dark. Instantly the German officer 
 on the conning-tower disappeared, and the steel 
 hatch clanged to over his head. 
 
 The submarine began to sink. 
 
 The doubt haunting the forty-three seamen 
 suddenly took shape in a certainty, the cer- 
 tainty of death. The water lipped upon the 
 deck, the water covered their feet. Then they 
 leaped into the sea. 
 
 The chief engineer, the cook, a Russian sea- 
 man and the little apprentice, who had con- 
 trived to keep their lifebelts, struck out for the 
 distant ship. The little apprentice held on to 
 the chief engineer. The cook and the Russian 
 were separated from the chief engineer and the 
 apprentice, and from each other, though all 
 were steering for where they thought the ship 
 lay. The thirty-nine men they left were never 
 seen again. 
 
 The chief engineer, holding up the apprentice, 
 swam steadily on, resting at intervals. The 
 boy grew heavier and heavier, his strokes 
 weaker and weaker, and by the time the grey 
 dawn lightened the desolate sea, he was uncon- 
 scious. The ice-cold water killed him. The 
 chief engineer went on alone. 
 
 He saw the Belgian Prince, listing over to 
 port, when, as he reckoned, he was still a mile 
 and a half away from her. It was then about 
 half-past five on the morning of August 1st, 
 1917. The chief engineer saw a bright flame 
 leap from the after part of the ship, saw her 
 go down stern first. 
 
268 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 The chief engineer, who makes no remark 
 concerning his emotions at that moment, con- 
 tinued to swim ; and presently he saw smoke on 
 the horizon, and swam desperately towards it. 
 A little after, he was picked up by a patrol boat. 
 
 The cook, following his own course, also came 
 in sight of the Belgian Prince about the same 
 time as the chief engineer sighted her. He also 
 saw the ship sink; and then he perceived the 
 submarine, and swam away. He was picked 
 up by the patrol boat. 
 
 The Russian seaman swam faster than the 
 other two men, and actually reached the Bel- 
 gian Prince at about five o'clock, after about 
 eight hours in the water. For the moment, at 
 least, he was saved; but he was still haunted 
 by a doubt. Numbed and exhausted, he strug- 
 gled on board, shifted into dry clothing, and 
 ate and drank. And then he saw the subma- 
 rine again. She was coming alongside. 
 
 The Russian ran aft, and hiding himself, 
 watched the submarine stop and lie alongside, 
 saw three or four Germans climb on board. 
 There was nothing else for it — the Russian low- 
 ered himself into the water again, and hung on 
 beside the rudder. For all he knew the Ger- 
 mans might be about sinking the ship. 
 
 But for the moment they were looting her, 
 passing stores, clothing and provisions into the 
 submarine. The Russian watched them for 
 about twenty minutes. Then the submarine 
 stood off and fired two shells into the ship. She 
 broke in two and sank. The submarine dived 
 and so departed. 
 
CASE OF THE "BELGIAN PRINCE" 269 
 
 The Eussian, fighting for his life in the swirl 
 of water and driving wreckage, saw the mas- 
 ter's dinghy, which had been left adrift by the 
 submarine. He swam to it, climbed in, and lay 
 there until the patrol boat picked him up. 
 
 There were forty-four people in the Belgian 
 Prince. The crew numbered forty-two, includ- 
 ing the master, and there were two negro stow- 
 aways. The master was taken prisoner; three 
 were saved because they outwitted the German 
 murderers; forty were drowned. Deprived of 
 their boats, robbed of their possessions, 
 stripped of their lifebelts, they were mustered 
 on board the German submarine and drawn 
 down to certain death. 
 
 Then the commanding officer of the subma- 
 rine having, as he thought, slain all witnesses of 
 his crimes, returned to plunder his prey, the de- 
 serted ship. He did not know the sturdy Eus- 
 sian seaman was watching him from behind the 
 rudder. Or that two more witnesses were 
 within gunshot. 
 
 Whether he knew it or not, that submarine 
 officer achieved the lowest deep of iniquity un- 
 til then touched even by Germans on the sea. 
 There may, of course, be worse to come; the 
 civilised nations are hardly competent to esti- 
 mate the possibilities; but, even now, the Ger- 
 mans at sea have done that which shall not be 
 forgotten till the sea runs dry. 
 
XLIV 
 
 Expectation and Event 
 
 To voyage at night in submarine-haunted 
 waters is to snatch every minute from fate. 
 For the submarine at night approaches unseen, 
 delivers the blow in the dark, and vanishes un- 
 seen. Therefore to all on board the venturing 
 ship the thing may happen at any moment ; also 
 it may not; and so they live from moment to 
 moment; watching the grains slip through the 
 hour-glass and wondering when the invisible 
 hand will turn the glass upside down. Such, in 
 fact, is the state of suspense of their under con- 
 sciousness. But their active intelligence is em- 
 ployed about the work of the ship, which is in- 
 cessant, and which brings fatigue which brings 
 sleep. 
 
 There are, of course, the forces which man 
 always marshals against the unknown. There 
 is fatalism, the theory that no man dies before 
 his time, and that when his time comes, die he 
 will. And what is perhaps more common, the 
 old defiant stoicism of the seaman. But under- 
 neath is always the cruel suspense. It is mas- 
 tered, but it is there. 
 
 The lookout man on the forecastle and aloft 
 in the crow's-nest; the helmsman, spinning his 
 
 270 
 
EXPECTATION AND EVENT 271 
 
 wheel, his eyes on the compass-dial ; the officers 
 on the bridge, scanning the field of water, peer- 
 ing into the dark, and aware of the whole liv- 
 ing organism of the ship beating like a heart be- 
 neath their feet; the men in the engine-room, 
 tending the smooth, swift and obedient ma- 
 chinery; the men in the stokehold, amid the 
 steady roar of the furnaces, heaving coal into 
 the flaming caverns ; the deck hands, each man 
 silent at his post; the gunners, standing by 
 their gun aft; each and all know their hazard. 
 
 But of all men on board the master wars with 
 the most formidable adversary, for all depend 
 on him. He dare not relax for a moment. 
 Should the crash come, it is the master who 
 must give the instant orders, and the slightest 
 hesitation or the least mistake will lose the lives 
 of men. He has rehearsed in his mind every 
 contingency over and over again ; he has trained 
 and practised crew and passengers ; there is no 
 more to be done than to wait. And in waiting, 
 he cannot afford to sleep; and yet he cannot 
 afford not to sleep. Many a master is six days 
 and nights on the bridge with intervals of an 
 hour or two hours. 
 
 If his ship carries troops, the master knows 
 at least that in case of emergency he can rely 
 upon their conduct. He also knows, if that is 
 any solace to him, that once on board a ship, a 
 soldier divests himself of care. Once he crosses 
 the rail, the seaman takes charge of him. His 
 mind is at ease. Whatever happens, he is not 
 responsible. He has but to obey orders. 
 
 So, on the night of 2nd-3rd June, 1917, the 
 
272 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 troops sailing in the steamship Cameronian 
 went to their hammocks with much of the com- 
 posure of the Government mules stalled on the 
 decks beneath, which they had just fed and 
 watered and tucked up for the night. But the 
 mules did not know that for them there was no 
 chance of escape. 
 
 The soldiers went to sleep, and the seamen 
 watched. Some forty soldiers passed from 
 sleep to death in a flood of water filling the 
 troop-deck in an instant. The torpedo struck 
 the ship at half -past three in the morning. 
 
 When a vessel is prepared, the chance of sav- 
 ing life varies according to the time she takes 
 to sink. Therefore the master arranges his or- 
 ganisation to work in the shortest period in 
 which all (or nearly all) can be saved, which is 
 about five minutes. The Cameronicm sank in 
 live minutes. 
 
 The first difficulty is to stop the ship so that 
 the boats may be the more safely lowered. The 
 momentum of a vessel of some 6,000 tons can- 
 not be checked in a moment. The master of the 
 Cameronicm stopped the engines instantly, but 
 as the ship began rapidly to sink by the stern, 
 the boats must be manned immediately. The 
 crew ran to their boat stations, while the bugles 
 called and the soldiers, those who escaped from 
 the inundation below, came tumbling up, to fall 
 in under the officers ' orders with the precision 
 of parade. The ship was still sliding forward, 
 the decks tilting up from the stern to the bows. 
 The five boats were orderly filled and three 
 were lowered to the calm sea. But ere the two 
 
EXPECTATION AND EVENT 273 
 
 remaining boats touched the water, the ship 
 went down, capsizing the boats. As she sank, 
 the men leaped from the boats into the water. 
 
 The exact sequence of events is here obscure, 
 but from the little evidence available, it is clear 
 that the men in the other three boats, coming 
 to the rescue of the men in the water, discovered 
 that there were men pinned down beneath the 
 capsized boats. Before these heavy sea-boats 
 could be righted the men beneath them would 
 drown. The rescuers, with admirable resource, 
 promptly smashed in the planks of the capsized 
 boats, presumably using the looms of their oars, 
 and hauled three men through the aperture. 
 Many a man has been trapped beneath a cap- 
 sized boat; it must be seldom, indeed, that a 
 way of escape has been suddenly burst through 
 the bottom of the boat. 
 
 The people of the Cameronicm, in the dawn of 
 a summer morning, were now adrift upon the 
 Mediterranean, some fifty miles from Malta. 
 The expected had happened ; the suspense was 
 over; the sands in the hour-glass were again 
 trickling steadily. It was fair weather and 
 there was no immediate apprehension. But the 
 master of the Cameronicm, to whose vigilance 
 and foresight the survivors owed their lives, 
 was drowned ; and drowned were the chief engi- 
 neer, eight men, and the two gunners of the 
 Cameronicm, together with the soldiers who had 
 been asleep on the troop deck; eighty-three in 
 all. 
 
 The boats were picked up by his Majesty's 
 ships and all on board were safely landed. 
 
XLV 
 
 Quick Eye and Ready Hand 
 
 On May 9th, 1917, the steamship Malda was 
 in the North Sea. It was one of those grey 
 spring days, when the smooth sea and the still 
 sky are suffused with an uniform light. The 
 master, the chief officer, the second officer, who 
 was on watch, and the pilot were on the bridge ; 
 men were posted to look out in the crow's-nest 
 on the foremast, on the top of the chart house, 
 on the upper bridge, and beside the gun aft. 
 
 Among these was a cadet, and he alone 
 sighted the track of a torpedo ruffling the water 
 about three points abaft the port beam and 
 travelling directly towards the ship. The cadet 
 hailed the officer of the watch, who on the word 
 put the helm hard a-port, at the same instant 
 ringing the engine-room telegraph to full speed. 
 
 Then all the watchers, eagerly staring, saw 
 the torpedo glimmer past the ship close under 
 the stern. 
 
 The ship was saved. 
 
 The master sent out wireless messages, in 
 reply to which an escort was sent, and the next 
 day the Malda arrived in port. 
 
 274 
 
XLVI 
 
 Panic 
 
 When the torpedo struck the steamship 
 Locksley Hall, she was between thirty and forty 
 miles from Malta, steaming at abont nine knots. 
 The second officer, who was on watch, sighted 
 the track of a torpedo abont 500 yards away 
 from the ship on the starboard side. He put 
 the helm over instantly; but it was at an un- 
 lucky moment; for the vessel was changing 
 from one zig-zag course to another, and ere she 
 could fully answer the alteration in the helm, 
 the torpedo exploded in the engine-room. 
 
 The fourth engineer and five of the engine- 
 room crew were killed; the engines were shat- 
 tered; the after deck was flooded and a huge 
 column of water mixed with wreckage rose high 
 into the air, the starboard lifeboat being lifted 
 some fifty feet. 
 
 There were fifty-one natives in the crew of 
 sixty-two. Instantly after the explosion a mob 
 of natives swarmed upon deck and into the 
 boats, without stopping to pick up lifebelts. 
 The master and the officers ordered them out 
 of the boats, and they refused to budge. As 
 
 275 
 
276 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 the way was slowing-off the vessel, the master 
 and the officers themselves lowered the boats, 
 crammed with the dark men, the whites of whose 
 eyes showed like the eyes of terrified animals. 
 
 The master, cool and composed, sent the sec- 
 ond engineer, the third officer and the chief gun- 
 ner one after the other to see that all had come 
 up from the engine-room ; and, having satisfied 
 himself on that point, ordered all remaining on 
 board into the boats. 
 
 He stayed on board, as he thought, alone. 
 Having attended to the destruction of his con- 
 fidential papers and to other details, the master 
 found that in the wreck and confusion some of 
 the native crew had taken refuge in the port 
 dinghy, which was still hanging to the davits. 
 The chief steward was faithfully standing by 
 the boat. The master ordered him into it, and 
 after some persuasion, induced one of the na- 
 tives to leave the boat and to take one of the 
 falls. The master took the other, when the de- 
 bilitated native let go. Those in the boat cut 
 the falls just in time to prevent her from cap- 
 sizing. 
 
 The master, the last to leave the ship, got 
 into the dinghy. By that time the after deck 
 of the sinking vessel was nearly level with the 
 water. 
 
 The master pulled across to the other two 
 boats, and gave to them certain instructions. 
 
 It was then about a quarter past one, half 
 an hour since the ship had been torpedoed. A 
 few minutes later the submarine leisurely 
 emerged about half a mile away, and fired five 
 
PANIC 277 
 
 rounds into the Locksley Hall. The submarine 
 then drew near to the boats, and her command- 
 ing officer demanded the person of the master. 
 But being unable to discover him, the German 
 requested the usual information concerning ship 
 and cargo, and then diverted himself by taking 
 photographs of his victims. When he had quite 
 finished, he drew away towards the Locksley 
 Hall, fired four more shots into her, and then 
 departed. 
 
 The boats remained where they were, the 
 crew watching their ship settling down. Pres- 
 ently she thrust her bows perpendicularly into 
 the air and so sank. 
 
 The boats were picked up next day. 
 
XLVII 
 
 Nine Steadfast Men 
 
 In the steamship City of Corinth every officer 
 and man on deck was keeping a look-out. She 
 had come all the way from Japan, and now, at 
 a little after five o'clock on the afternoon of 
 May 21st, 1917, the ship was off the Lizard, in 
 sight of home. 
 
 The haze of a spring twilight hung in the 
 windless air, so that the ship, steaming at thir- 
 teen knots, moved in a clear circle of about six 
 miles ' diameter, across a smooth sea ; and if the 
 lines of vision were palpable, they would be 
 seen radiating like the spokes of a wheel from 
 the eyes of the gazing men on deck, incessantly 
 travelling upon the shining field of sea. But 
 nothing married its silken levels. 
 
 The chief officer on the bridge felt a shock and 
 heard a thud. The blow so long pending had 
 been struck. The master, who was at the foot 
 of the ladder, sprang up it to the bridge and 
 rang full speed astern, to take off the way of 
 the ship. Then he ordered the wireless oper- 
 ator to send out a message giving the ship's 
 position. 
 
 278 
 
NINE STEADFAST MEN 279 
 
 At the same moment the chief engineer below 
 saw the water pouring from the tunnel, the long 
 steel passage in which the propeller shaft re- 
 volves. He turned on the men to force the tun- 
 nel door shut and to get the pumps going. The 
 third engineer went to the gun mounted aft. 
 
 The ship listed to port, settled down a little 
 aft, and then hung where she was. 
 
 But while the officers and the white men 
 among the crew were swiftly doing their duty, 
 the Lascars and Chinese scrambled headlong 
 into the boats and lowered them. Within two 
 or three minutes of the explosion one boat got 
 away. The chief officer, standing by the rail, 
 shouting his orders (with what emphasis may 
 be imagined) induced the men in the other three 
 boats to hold on alongside. 
 
 The second and third engineers, who were 
 both sick men, were lowered into the boats. 
 
 The master, at his post on the bridge, swiftly 
 surveyed the situation, and decided, in spite of 
 the desertion of the native and Chinese crew, 
 to try to make the land. For aught he knew, 
 there was no one left in the engine-room. He 
 rang the telegraph, and receiving an instant re- 
 ply from the chief engineer, ordered full speed 
 ahead, and steered for the land inside the Liz- 
 ard. With a powerful head of steam the ship 
 began to move ; and at the same time the wire- 
 less operator received messages saying that 
 help was on its way. 
 
 The third engineer, having left the gun and 
 gone below to fetch some clothes, found the 
 water flooding the engine-room, and was dis- 
 
280 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 patched by the chief engineer to report the po- 
 sition to the master. 
 
 Baffled in his seamanlike attempt to make the 
 shore, the master rang down to the engine-room, 
 stop, then, finished with engines, and sent the 
 second officer to make snre that all below came 
 on deck. 
 
 The chief engineer was instrncted to get into 
 one of the boats. In the meantime, the ship 
 was settling down. When the after deck was 
 within a foot of the water, the master ordered 
 the boats to pull away from the vessel for two 
 or three hundred yards and there to remain. 
 
 There were thus left on board the sinking 
 ship: the master, who was on the bridge, the 
 chief officer, ranging the decks, the wireless op- 
 erator, sticking by his instrnment, and stand- 
 ing by the gun, the two gunners, three engineers 
 and the carpenter. 
 
 These officers and men were taking a double 
 risk. The ship might go down under them as 
 she was, or she might be sunk by a second tor- 
 pedo, which might also kill or wound those on 
 board. 
 
 But a patrol boat was in sight; there was 
 still a chance, if the submarine emerged, of hit- 
 ting her with a shot from the ship's gun; and 
 there was even a vanishing chance of saving the 
 ship. 
 
 So the master, the chief officer, the wireless 
 operator, the two gunners, the three engineers, 
 and the carpenter, nine steadfast men, stayed 
 by their ship. They saw, a long way off, an- 
 other steamer, which appeared to be in distress. 
 
NINE STEADFAST MEN 281 
 
 The next thing was that the chief engineer in 
 the boat, which was hanging off and on not far 
 from the ship, heard the gasp and hiss of com- 
 pressed air escaping, and recognised the sound 
 of the firing of a torpedo under water close be- 
 neath him. 
 
 At the same moment, the watchers in the ship 
 saw a periscope and fired at it; and as they 
 fired, the second torpedo struck the ship in the 
 engine-room, exploding with tremendous vio- 
 lence. 
 
 The men in the ship, dazed by the shock and 
 with water and wreckage falling all about them, 
 felt the deck under their feet going down and 
 down. The master, cool and unhurried, hailed 
 the boat nearest to the ship to come alongside, 
 and hove overboard his confidential papers. 
 
 The nine men slid into the boat, which backed 
 hard off, and cleared the ship. She turned over 
 and sank by the stern. 
 
 The people in the boats saw a number of pa- 
 trol boats gathering about the distant ship 
 which had appeared to be sinking, and then the 
 patrol boat which had been first sighted came 
 up and took them into port. 
 
XLVIII 
 
 Carnage 
 
 At a little after six o 'clock on the morning of 
 May 26th, 1917, a submarine opened fire at long 
 range upon the steamship Umaria. 
 
 The master instantly ordered fire to be 
 opened in reply. The gunner of the Umaria 
 had fired five rounds when the striker of the 
 gun broke, and the gun was made useless. 
 Then the master employed smoke-boxes, as his 
 last resource, in the hope of obscuring the aim 
 of the enemy; but nevertheless his shells fell 
 fast and deadly. 
 
 One shell killed a native and wounded several 
 firemen and two cadets. Another smashed a 
 lifeboat, and with it a native who had fled into 
 it for refuge. A splinter broke the thigh of 
 the fourth engineer. The steering gear was 
 struck, and the ship went out of control. 
 
 It was then about three-quarters of an hour 
 since the action had begun. The master decided 
 to abandon the ship. The engineers were called 
 up from below, and the boats were lowered un- 
 der continuous fire from the enemy. Three life- 
 boats were got away. As the gig was being 
 
 282 
 
CARNAGE 28S 
 
 lowered the master was struck on the shoulder 
 by a splinter. While those about him were 
 dressing the wound as best they could, the gig 
 drifted away from the ship. In the gig were 
 the wounded and helpless fourth engineer, the 
 second engineer, two cadets, a gunner, a native 
 fireman, and a saloon boy : seven in all. 
 
 The gig's crew began to row back towards 
 the ship, whereupon the submarine, which 
 mounted a four-inch gun, fired on them. The 
 fourth engineer received another frightful in- 
 jury; the second engineer had his leg smashed 
 and other hurts ; one of the cadets was hit in the 
 arm and in the leg; the gunner was wounded 
 in several places, the native had two wounds 
 and the saloon boy was slightly hurt. There 
 remained but one person in the boat, a cadet, 
 untouched. 
 
 Those who had stayed by the master got into 
 the boat, which was ordered by the commanding 
 officer of the submarine to come alongside. The 
 German informed the chief officer that he had 
 taken prisoner the second officer, the third en- 
 gineer, and a cadet, and he demanded the per- 
 son of the master. 
 
 The master held his peace. The chief officer 
 told the German that the master was badly 
 wounded, whereupon the German took the chief 
 engineer on board the submarine, and in his 
 stead released the third engineer. 
 
 The commanding officer of the submarine, 
 leaning on the rail of the conning tower, looked 
 down upon his victims. 
 
 Crouched upon the thwarts in the sunlight, 
 
284 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 up to their knees in the water, which, stained 
 crimson, was flowing through the shell-holes in 
 the planking, soaked with blood, holding their 
 wounds, staring with hunted eyes, was the heap 
 of stricken men. 
 
 The German ordered the boat away. The 
 shore was fifteen miles distant. There were no 
 more than three men in the boat who could pull 
 an oar: the chief officer, the third officer, and 
 the third engineer who had been released from 
 the submarine. Without appliances, crowded 
 together in the waterlogged boat, they made 
 what shift they could to dress the wounded. 
 Then they rowed towards the shore. 
 
 It was about eight o 'clock when they left the 
 submarine. They saw the submarine firing at 
 the deserted ship, which sank about 9.30 a.m. 
 
 Before that time the fourth engineer, who had 
 twice been so dreadfully wounded, died. For 
 over six interminable, tormented hours the boat 
 was adrift, the sun beating more and more 
 fiercely upon the wounded men, who had neither 
 food nor water, and whose hurts were stiffening, 
 so that the slightest movement was agony. 
 
 Then an Italian rowing-boat came up, and 
 towed the wretched men to a patrol vessel, into 
 which they were taken. The patrol boat had 
 already picked up the other three boats. A 
 fireman died on the way to an Italian port, 
 where the survivors were treated with every 
 kindness. Afterwards they were transferred to 
 another town, and here the ladies of the Eng- 
 lish colony tended them. 
 
XLIX 
 
 Unavoidable 
 
 On May 30th, 1917, the steamship Bathurst, 
 in company with the steamship Hanley, home- 
 ward bound, was about ninety miles from the 
 south-west coast of Ireland. The Bathurst was 
 unarmed. The Hanley mounted a gun for the 
 defence of both vessels ; she was keeping station 
 on the port side of the Bathurst, about half a 
 mile away from her. The weather was fine and 
 clear and the sea a flat calm. On board the 
 Bathurst the whole of the officers and men on 
 deck were keeping a look-out. 
 
 Early in the afternoon, the people in the 
 Bathurst saw a fountain of water, mingled with 
 black smoke, flung up on the port side of the 
 Hanley, and observed her to slow down and 
 presently to stop. It was, of course, obvious to 
 the master of the Bathurst that the Hanley had 
 been attacked by an invisible enemy submarine. 
 To go to the assistance of the Hanley would 
 have involved the loss of the Bathurst. In these 
 emergencies each ship must look after herself. 
 As matters stood, the Bathurst was in immi- 
 nent danger; and the chance of saving her de- 
 pended upon the instant action of the master. 
 
 285 
 
286 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 Her helm was put over, and she was kept on at 
 full speed, steering a zig-zag course. 
 
 About half an hour later, when the distance 
 separating the two vessels had increased to 
 three miles, the master of the Bathurst per- 
 ceived, ruffling the water, a track beginning 
 from under the stern of the Hartley and coming 
 to about a mile astern of the Bathurst. The 
 next moment a submarine emerged, and in- 
 stantly opened fire at a range of about 2,000 
 yards. The master of the Bathurst kept her at 
 full speed, until several times shells had ex- 
 ploded on her decks. His ship was unarmed and 
 she could not escape; the Hanley, which 
 mounted a gun, was already torpedoed ; and the 
 master of the Bathurst had no choice but to 
 abandon her. He blew two long blasts on the 
 whistle, and ordered the crew into the boats; 
 waited until the way was off the ship, and or- 
 dered the boats to be lowered. One of the four 
 boats had been damaged by shell fire, and the 
 master took the men in her aboard his own boat. 
 
 In the meantime the submarine continued her 
 fire. As the boats of the Bathurst pulled away 
 from the ship, the men in them saw that the dis- 
 tant Hanley was settling down in the water, and 
 that her boats were pulling away from her. 
 
 The submarine continued to fire at the Bath- 
 urst until she also began to settle down. Then 
 the submarine approached the boats of the 
 Bathurst; the commanding officer of the sub- 
 marine ordered the master's boat alongside; 
 and demanded information concerning both 
 ships and their cargoes. The German officer 
 
UNAVOIDABLE 287 
 
 ordered the master of the Bathurst to deliver to 
 him the ship's papers and chronometers. The 
 master told him that these had been left on 
 board the Bathurst. At this point one of the 
 seamen on board the submarine reported to the 
 German officer that other vessels were ap- 
 proaching, whereupon the submarine hastily- 
 got under way and went astern at full speed 
 towards the Bathurst. She fired a torpedo into 
 the Bathurst, striking her amidships, went 
 swiftly across to the Hanley, fired another tor- 
 pedo into her, and then went away, steering 
 westward. 
 
 Ere the submarine was out of sight, the men 
 in the boats sighted the smoke of two vessels 
 coming swiftly towards them from the eastward, 
 and soon afterwards two patrol boats hove into 
 view, passed the boats at full speed, and went 
 on in pursuit of the submarine, firing as they 
 went. 
 
 It was then about four o'clock in the after- 
 noon. The men in the boats saw the Bathurst 
 sink, and shortly afterwards saw the Hanley go 
 down also. The master of the Bathurst or- 
 dered sail to be set on the boats, and the course 
 to be set towards the land. The men in the 
 boats of the Hartley were left behind for the 
 time being. Soon afterwards they were picked 
 up by the patrol boats, which afterwards picked 
 up the boats of the Bathurst. 
 
Quite 0. K. 
 
 The report of the master of the Miniota de- 
 serves to be recorded in his own words ; for he 
 owns a right English style, as forthright, terse, 
 and idiomatic as the sturdy diction of that mas- 
 ter of narrative, Sir Eoger L 'Estrange. 
 
 So here is the story of the master of the 
 Miniota: 
 
 I beg leave to report that at 3.40 p.m. June 
 4th, 1917, in (such and such) a latitude and 
 longitude, we sighted a submarine, bearing 
 down upon us from our port beam, and firing 
 as she approached. We brought her astern and 
 opened fire in return. Finding her shots were 
 falling short of us, as also ours of her, we 
 ceased firing, with a view to allowing her to 
 overtake us somewhat, and so to bring her 
 within range. Later, finding her shots were 
 falling unpleasantly near, we opened fire on 
 her, and found that we just had her within 
 range, our last shot only missing her by a few 
 yards. She evidently did not relish taking any 
 further chances, for she opened her broadside 
 
 288 
 
QUITE O.K. 289 
 
 to us, fired both guns, and dived. So the inci- 
 dent closed with what we considered vantage to 
 us. We expended thirty rounds in the duel, to 
 somewhere about fifty to sixty rounds of the 
 enemy. 
 
 At about 7 p.m., we noticed that an American 
 ship, which was about three and a half miles 
 away on our port bow, appeared to be in diffi- 
 culties. We were overtaking her fast, and on 
 closer inspection found that she had stopped. 
 We concluded that she had been hit, and that 
 doubtless the submarine would be endeavouring 
 to bring off a double event, in view of which we 
 put our helm hard a-port, and, while swinging 
 round to it, sighted his periscope some 200 or 
 300 yards away, aft of our beam. 
 
 There is no doubt that the submarine, on get- 
 ting a view of us through her periscope, found 
 herself in a false position for attack, being right 
 under our gun. So she wisely submerged, 
 swirled the water up twice under our stern, but 
 did not show herself, realising that, with a 
 point-blank bead on her, she was at our mercy. 
 
 In the meantime, our wireless operator inter- 
 cepted a brief message from the American, say- 
 ing that she was sinking. Concluding that 
 there was something amiss with her wireless 
 installation, we sent out a message for her, giv- 
 ing her position and saying that her boats were 
 in the water. 
 
 However, the time spent by the submarine 
 paying her attentions to us gave the American 
 ship the opportunity of putting her house in 
 order. Doubtless finding that she was not as 
 
290 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 badly wounded as she had thought, and not be- 
 ing further attacked, she had started to hoist 
 her boats in, and was steaming slowly ahead. 
 Next we saw the submarine come to the surface 
 some distance astern of her, and circle round 
 on her port side, whence she started shelling 
 the American ship, which replied. The shelling 
 went on for some time. 
 
 The American ship appeared to be hit several 
 times, eventually ceased firing and steamed 
 away. So far as we could see she was not much 
 the worse for the encounter. 
 
 The next day the American ship sent out a 
 message to the effect that she had sunk the sub- 
 marine and that everything was quite O.K. with 
 her, so that, accepting such to be the case, it fol- 
 lows that the submarine, in her greed to take 
 the two of us, lost both, and herself to boot. 
 
 I would wish to state that the morale of our 
 ship's company left nothing to be desired. Our 
 gunners, when once they got into their stride, 
 were quick on the trigger, and most accurate 
 in their fire. 
 
 Thus the master of the Miniota, thus and no 
 more. He outmanoeuvred and outfought the 
 enemy, stood by his American friend, took his 
 chances and saved his ship, all with a cheerful 
 zest and a mind at ease. Another German 
 shark was sent to the bottom and "everything 
 was quite O.K." 
 
LI 
 
 The Chase by Night 
 
 At nine o'clock on the evening of June 8th, 
 1917, the steamship Akabo, homeward bound, 
 was about 250 miles west of Land's End. It 
 was a grey evening, the sea running in a gentle 
 swell from the north-west. On the forecastle 
 head, in the crow's nest, on the bridge, aft, 
 and along the rail amidships, men, vigilant and 
 motionless, scanned the sea, marking every 
 ripple and shadow. Among the watchers were 
 four passengers, who had volunteered for duty. 
 One man, or several men, sighted a periscope, 
 the little black oblong hove up on the surface. 
 As the cry went up the master had his foot on 
 the ladder of the lower bridge. The periscope 
 was then half a point abaft the starboard beam 
 and about 400 yards away. 
 
 The master sprang up to the navigating 
 bridge and ordered the helm to be put hard 
 over. The Akabo, which was steaming at about 
 twelve knots, instantly answered to the helm, 
 and swung round until the submarine was about 
 four points on the starboard quarter. Then, 
 those looking out on the starboard side saw a 
 
 291 
 
292 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 torpedo glide past, the swerving of the vessel 
 having saved her. The master rang down to the 
 engine-room to make all possible speed, and 
 signalled to the gunners that there was a sub- 
 marine on the starboard quarter. 
 
 The conning tower of the submarine emerged. 
 Fire was opened upon it from the Akabo, and 
 the submarine dived swiftly. The master of the 
 Akabo kept her at full speed, constantly alter- 
 ing course, and, for the time being, the subma- 
 rine was no more seen. 
 
 The master increased the number of look- 
 outs, and so held on his course for nearly three 
 hours. 
 
 It was almost midnight when a look-out aft 
 sighted a submarine on the port quarter. The 
 people on the bridge were unable to see the 
 enemy, but, as the alarm was given, the helm 
 was put hard over, and full speed was main- 
 tained. At the same moment, according to the 
 statement of the crew looking aft, they heard 
 the cough and hiss of the firing of a torpedo, 
 and a few moments later, they reported that a 
 second torpedo had been fired. 
 
 The gunners of the Akabo opened fire on the 
 submarine, and the second shot exploded with 
 a sound as of the impact of metal on metal, 
 indicating that the conning tower of the sub- 
 marine had been struck. But the damage in- 
 flicted was evidently not serious, for the look- 
 out aft continued to report from time to time 
 that a submarine had been sighted ; and at each 
 report the master altered course in order to 
 bring the submarine astern. 
 
THE CHASE BY NIGHT 293 
 
 At about half-past two in the morning, the 
 watchers perceived a rough glitter patching the 
 smooth dark swell, and knew that the phos- 
 phorescence betrayed the hunting submarine. 
 Then, her periscope stuck forth from the light 
 patch about 400 yards off the starboard beam 
 of the Alcabo. The master once more put her 
 helm hard over. The next moment a torpedo 
 was seen by the people on the bridge to pass 
 the vessel and to disappear towards the port 
 bow. Again the swift manoeuvring of the Aba- 
 ft o foiled the enemy. The gunners fired three 
 shots at the periscope, which again submerged. 
 
 Soon afterwards the lights of the coast were 
 sighted, and the master of the Akabo altered 
 course to close two men-of-war. 
 
 At daylight the Akabo was met by a destroyer 
 of the United States Navy, which escorted her 
 out of the danger zone. 
 
 The master reports that the behaviour of the 
 passengers and crew was admirable. 
 
 The case of the Akabo is an example of what 
 can be done by means of strict vigilance and 
 skilled seamanship. We are now a long way 
 from the early experiences of the war at sea, 
 when the mercantile marine faced the unseen 
 enemy, unarmed and unprepared. We now re- 
 mark officers and men owning a gun and the 
 skill to use it, practised in the wiles of the 
 enemy, knowing what he will do, and how to 
 prevent him from doing it, and ready for all 
 contingencies. The submarine shows herself at 
 her peril. 
 
LII 
 
 The Second Chance 
 
 When the City of Exeter struck a mine, she 
 was within some twenty miles of a port on the 
 west coast of India. 
 
 The master, acting upon the plan arranged 
 by him beforehand to meet all contingencies, 
 set his organisation in motion. 
 
 As the ship was settling down by the head, 
 the master had first to secure the safety of 
 passengers and crew; and secondly, to combine 
 with that precaution an opportunity for saving 
 the ship should she remain afloat. 
 
 Accordingly, he ordered the six lifeboats to 
 be manned and lowered, and then to remain 
 near by the ship. If she sank, the boats were 
 to steer for the land. 
 
 Crew and passengers, numbering 181 in all, 
 orderly embarked and stood by. The whole of 
 the engine room staff, knowing that the ship 
 might founder at any moment, remained at 
 their posts below, until they received orders to 
 come on deck. 
 
 Now when a crew have once quitted an in- 
 jured ship, which may be sinking, they are at 
 
 294 
 
THE SECOND CHANCE 295 
 
 once released from the stress of imminent dan- 
 ger. They definitely end one episode, and begin 
 another, perhaps of an equal danger, but of a 
 different danger. To ask men to return to the 
 original peril, is to ask them to reverse in a 
 moment the whole current of their mind, and 
 to make a great call upon their constancy and 
 courage. Here is one reason why it is essential 
 to make a plan beforehand and to impart it to 
 the crew. Their minds are then prepared for 
 all requisite action ; leaving the ship becomes a 
 provisional instead of a final measure; and if 
 they are required to return to the vessel, al- 
 though the order needs no less courage to exe- 
 cute, it has the quality of the expected. 
 
 So the six lifeboats, filled with crew and 
 passengers, lay off on the heaving sea, in the 
 thick rain, and contemplated the wounded ship, 
 rolling there, settling down by the bows, melan- 
 choly and alone. They waited thus for an hour. 
 
 Then the master ordered all to come on board 
 again ; and as orderly as they had embarked in 
 the boats, crew and passengers drew alongside 
 the City of Exeter, hooked on the falls, hauled 
 up the boats, secured them to the davits, and 
 proceeded each to his post. 
 
 The master ordered slow speed and continued 
 on his course. There were thirty-four feet of 
 water in No. 1 hold, and for aught the master 
 knew, its bulkheads might give way at any 
 moment under the immense additional pressure. 
 Had a bulkhead burst, another hold would have 
 been flooded, and then in all probability another, 
 and the ship must have gone. down. 
 
296 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 But the bulkheads held from minute to min- 
 ute, for the rest of the day. It was about half- 
 past nine in the morning when the City of Ex- 
 eter began to nose through the tropical rain 
 whelming sea and sky. Hour after hour she 
 crawled on at between two and three knots, and 
 in the afternoon the master picked up the land. 
 
 By six o 'clock he had anchored in the harbour, 
 "without any outside assistance." The ship 
 was then drawing thirty-four feet forward, and 
 twenty- two feet six inches aft. 
 
 ' ' I have much pleasure, ' ' reports the master, 
 "in stating that all members of the crew, both 
 European and native, behaved splendidly dur- 
 ing the trying time. ' ' 
 
 Students of the affair will appreciate the 
 conduct of the master himself, concerning which 
 he says nothing. 
 
Lin 
 
 Hard Pressed 
 
 When the steamship Holywell was approach- 
 ing the entrance to the English Channel, the 
 master sighted a submarine, about two miles 
 away on the starboard beam. 
 
 The master was ready, the crew were ready, 
 and many things happened simultaneously on 
 board the Holywell. The course was altered, 
 the men ran to their stations, the wireless oper- 
 ator sent out a message, and the gunners opened 
 fire on the enemy. Such are the results produced 
 by a submarine within a few seconds of her 
 appearance. Her quarry swerves, she gets a 
 shell about her ears, and her position is made 
 known with the speed of lightning to all whom 
 it may concern. Thus it happened on June 11th, 
 1917, at 7.15 in the morning. 
 
 The gunners of the Holywell fired two rounds. 
 Then the submarine dived until her hull was 
 under water, leaving her two masts and peri- 
 scope projecting. As she was running sub- 
 merged her speed dropped, and the master of 
 the Holywell drew away from her. Observe 
 now one of the incidental advantages of mount- 
 
 397 
 
298 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 ing an adequate gun. The submarine, forced to 
 run under water for fear of being hit, thereby 
 decreases her speed from eighteen to twenty- 
 knots to about twelve. 
 
 The master, during the chase, observed no 
 torpedo, but two of the native crew reported 
 that they saw a torpedo pass astern of the 
 ship. 
 
 By about half-past nine, or some two hours 
 after the submarine had been sighted, she had 
 disappeared. 
 
 The master held on till a quarter-past two, 
 when a submarine emerged no more than the 
 ship's length away, abreast of the engine-room 
 on the port side. Here was a very near thing 
 indeed. Over went the helm of the Holywell, 
 the enemy 's torpedo passed within ten feet of 
 the ship's stern, and at the same moment the 
 gunner fired, his second shot exploding just 
 over the submarine. Wireless messages were 
 sent, and the firemen below double-banked the 
 furnaces. The submarine went under. She 
 stepped one mast, not two; so that she was 
 probably a different vessel from the first sub- 
 marine sighted. 
 
 During her attack, the master sighted yet 
 another submarine five miles away on the port 
 quarter. The gunner opened fire upon her. His 
 three shots fell short. The submarine replied 
 with twelve shots, all of which fell short, but 
 they struck the water no more than the ship's 
 length astern. 
 
 The master of the Holywell, conversing with 
 the authorities by wireless, held on, steering 
 
HARD PRESSED 299 
 
 through a melancholy and a significant field of 
 wreckage. At seven in the evening, one of his 
 Majesty's ships picked him up and escorted him 
 until dark. The master went on alone until 
 four o'clock the next morning, when another 
 ship of war escorted him into port. 
 
 It is due to the master that his admirable 
 organisation worked with so swift a precision 
 that he beat off and escaped from three enemies 
 in one day. Conceive now the extraordinary 
 tension of the unwinking vigilance required of 
 the master, who must remain on the bridge by 
 day and by night, and whose slightest relaxa- 
 tion may lose his ship. But he saved her. 
 
LIV 
 
 Quite Interesting 
 
 The following brief and spirited narrative 
 was related by the master of the steamship 
 Hawerford, upon reporting his arrival at an 
 English port on June 13th, 1917 : 
 
 The voyage, which was uneventful until we 
 approached the coast, became quite interesting 
 when we saw a submarine on the surface some 
 distance away. Unfortunately, we had no op- 
 portunity of demonstrating our ability with the 
 gun, because our escort, which was more advan- 
 tageously armed, opened fire, and the submarine 
 dived. 
 
 About four and a half hours later, the look-out 
 in the crow's-nest and the gunlayer aft both re- 
 ported "torpedo on starboard quarter.' ' The 
 second officer, who was in charge of the watch, 
 acted promptly, ordering the helm hard a-star- 
 board. The torpedo passed under the stern, and 
 so close to the ship along the port side that we 
 put the helm the other way for fear of taking 
 the torpedo on our port bow. 
 
 The look-out man and the gunner had previ- 
 ously been noted for their vigilance. I cannot 
 speak too highly of the presence of mind and 
 effective right action, at the critical moment, of 
 the second officer. 
 
 300 
 
QUITE INTERESTING 301 
 
 Our escort, upon leaving us, semaphored 
 "Good-bye and good luck. I hope you will 
 always be as skilful and lucky in dodging them. ' ' 
 
 I consider myself exceedingly fortunate in 
 having that skilful assistance which enables me 
 to report our safe arrival ; and I am proud, but 
 not surprised, to report that the crew to a man 
 maintained the best tradition of the service. 
 
 So much for the master's account of the mat- 
 ter. Those who are acquainted with the nar- 
 ratives of the Elizabethan seamen will recog- 
 nise the right English ring of the same metal. 
 We had thought the trick of it was lost, and 
 marvelled at the Elizabethan accomplishment. 
 But now it seems that the old fire was but 
 smothered under the ashes of modern commer- 
 cialism, dead to all but money-making ; that the 
 business of shoving a ship from port to port 
 and back again to make profits for shareholders, 
 had killed the spirit of the sea. But when it 
 comes to fighting, and the huckster takes sec- 
 ond place, the ancient pride shines forth again. 
 
 The master of the Haver ford says nothing of 
 the five hours' vigil between the first attack 
 and the second. Only those who have stood on 
 deck, staring at the troubled and secret water, 
 know in what the stress consists. If it were 
 always possible to sight the enemy before he 
 attacked, or even to sight the torpedo, the sus- 
 pense would be strain enough. But the watch- 
 ers know that the ship may be struck at any 
 moment, without a premonitory sign. 
 
LV 
 
 Short and Sharp 
 
 Early in the morning of June 12th, 1917, the 
 steamship Quillota, approaching the entrance to 
 the English Channel, was firing steadily at a 
 long, low, hnmped target some six miles distant. 
 It was a large submarine; from her belched 
 flame and smoke, and her projectiles, striking 
 the sea astern of the Quillota, threw up white 
 fountains. The guns crashed, the ship shook as 
 she sped, and the fountains danced in her wake, 
 for a wild ten minutes. Then the gunner of the 
 Quillota saw his target diminish and presently 
 disappear. The submarine had dived. The 
 Quillota was untouched. 
 
 Presently, the master descried three boats 
 adrift and full of people, all that was left of 
 some tall ship. The first duty of a master in 
 times of piracy is, not to save others but, to save 
 his ship. For all the master of the Quillota 
 knew, a submarine was lurking near the boats, 
 ready to fire a torpedo into the Quillota did she 
 stay to pick them up. Such is the custom of the 
 pirates. 
 
 So the master of the Quillota had no choice 
 but to hold on. He sent a wireless message; re- 
 ceived an answer; and presently two of his 
 Majesty's ships came foaming along. They 
 
 302 
 
SHORT AND SHARP 303 
 
 picked up the boats, and one of them came after 
 the Quillota and escorted her npon her way. 
 
 Here is an instance of the whole organisation 
 working to the defeat of the enemy. The sub- 
 marine is beaten off by gun-fire ; the ship, escap- 
 ing, avoids a trap, and calls for succour, which 
 promptly arrives. 
 
 The affair of the Indicm is another affair of 
 successful tactics. She also was approaching 
 the entrance to the Channel, early in the morn- 
 ing of June 12th, 1917. There was a radiant 
 sky, with a southerly wind, and all on deck were 
 keeping a strict look-out. 
 
 The master descried among the sparkling, 
 luminous run of sea, a patch or stain. The 
 helm was put over and the emergency signal 
 rung down to the engine-room. As the ship 
 went about the master saw the trail of a tor- 
 pedo lengthening from the piece of discoloured 
 water. It was travelling directly towards the 
 position occupied by the ship before the helm 
 was put over, and passed astern of her. 
 
 The gunners, looking out aft, presently sight- 
 ed the submarine emerging some three miles 
 away, and opened fire upon her. The enemy 
 fired in return, then, dropping swiftly astern, 
 was speedily lost to view. 
 
 The master sent a wireless message, and held 
 on. After about an hour, a vessel of the United 
 States Navy hove into view, went by at full 
 speed and presently disappeared. 
 
 The master of the Indian heard the distant 
 sound of firing. 
 
LVI 
 
 Mixing It 
 
 When the master of the Pakna, on the after- 
 noon of June 18th, 1917, sighted the track of a 
 torpedo, the ship was off the north coast of 
 Ireland. He put the helm over and stopped the 
 port engine. The torpedo, which, approaching 
 the starboard beam, must have been fired 
 from an invisible submarine from starboard, 
 passed close under the stern of the ship. At the 
 same moment, while the ship was swinging to 
 her helm, the master saw a periscope away to 
 port and coming towards the vessel, indicating a 
 second submarine. She fired a torpedo, which 
 also passed under the stern of the Palma. Here, 
 then, was a double attack. 
 
 The next moment, the periscope of the sub- 
 marine coming towards the port side passed 
 under the stern so close to the rudder that the 
 gunners stationed aft told the master they could 
 have hung their caps on it. In the meantime, 
 the submarine which had fired a torpedo from 
 the starboard side fired a second torpedo as she 
 steered for the ship, and then met the port side 
 submarine under the P alma's stern. The mas- 
 
 304 
 
MIXING IT 805 
 
 ter thinks that they must have collided with 
 each other. 
 
 While the two submarines were entangled 
 under the stern of the Palma, the three tor- 
 pedoes they had discharged were plunging 
 about in her wake. 
 
 So close under the stern were the submarines 
 that the gunners stationed aft in the Palma 
 could not at first depress the gun low enough to 
 get the sights on them; then, as the ship went 
 forward and the submarines dropped astern, 
 the gunners opened fire on them. For the first 
 few rounds they sighted on the hull of one sub- 
 marine, which then disappeared. After the 
 sixth round nothing was visible. Nor was the 
 Palma again troubled. 
 
 Here was a double attack smartly defeated, 
 with what seems to have been loss to the enemy. 
 The manoeuvre by means of which the two sub- 
 marines, by simultaneously attacking, one on 
 either side of the ship, proposed to ensure her 
 destruction, was frustrated by the master's 
 prompt use of helm and engine. 
 
Lvn 
 
 Short and Sweet 
 
 On June 20th, 1917, the Valeria was in the 
 ganger zone off the west coast of Ireland. It 
 was three o'clock in the morning. In the col- 
 ourless light of the dawn heralding sunrise, the 
 ^sea was heaving in a long slow swell. The mas- 
 ter and the second officer were on watch. There 
 came a shock that vibrated throughout the ship ; 
 the second officer, leaning over the starboard 
 rail of the bridge, shouted to the master, who 
 ran across the bridge from the port side. Both 
 officers looked down upon a troubled patch of 
 water, whence, with a hissing sound and a pun- 
 gent odour, there streamed the burnt gas from 
 the exhausts of a submarine. 
 
 As the ship, steaming at eleven knots, drew 
 clear of the rising submarine, the gunners sta- 
 tioned aft rang through to the bridge, signalling 
 that they had sighted the enemy. The sub- 
 marine lay athwart the course of the Valeria, 
 about 100 yards away. Her periscope was 
 broken off and she was consequently blind. 
 
 The chief gunner swiftly depressed his gun 
 and fired. There was a loud explosion, flinging 
 
 306 
 
SHORT AND SWEET SOT 
 
 up a fountain of water mingled with thick 
 vapour, and the gunners signalled a hit to the 
 master. He ordered them to continue firing. 
 The second shot was a miss, the third struck the 
 base of the conning tower. Then the submarine 
 settled down and sank. 
 
 On the surface, large bubbles continually 
 formed and broke ; and the men of the Valeria, 
 as the ship receded from the place, still marked 
 the bubbles rising and vanishing; until, as the 
 Valeria went on her way at full speed, there was 
 nothing save the long slow swell of the sea, shin- 
 ing in the level rays of the summer dawn. 
 
LVIII 
 
 The Escape op the ' ' Nitronian ' ' 
 
 When the master of the Nitronian sighted 
 the submarine, he altered course, putting the 
 enemy astern, ordered utmost speed, sent a 
 wireless message and gave the gunners the 
 alert. Between the time when the submarine 
 was descried and the moment she fired was an 
 interval of two minutes. In that interval, the 
 whole ship was prepared, all firemen off duty 
 went into the stokehold, and two quartermas- 
 ters took the wheel. 
 
 It was about half -past eleven on the morning 
 of June 20th, and the ship was approaching the 
 west coast of Ireland. She carried a very valu- 
 able cargo. It was clear grey weather with a 
 north-easterly breeze and a run of sea. 
 
 The first shot fired by the submarine fell 
 short of the Nitronian, whose gunners instantly 
 replied. But the enemy kept out of range of the 
 gun of the Nitronian, manoeuvring to get be- 
 tween the ship and the shore and so to cut her 
 off from help. 
 
 Firing on both sides continued for twenty 
 minutes, when a shell pierced the deck of the 
 Nitronicm, setting fire to some bales of cotton 
 sweepings, stowed in No. 1 hold. 
 
 The master saw smoke coming from the hold, 
 but as all the men on deck were passing ammu- 
 
 308 
 
THE ESCAPE OF THE "NITRONIAN" 309 
 
 nition to the gunners, there was none to spare 
 to extinguish the fire, so the master let it alone 
 and hoped for the best. He did not know at the 
 moment that the shell had also smashed a steam 
 pipe, so that in any case the pumps could not be 
 put on until the pipe was repaired. 
 
 The ship was now heading westward; shells 
 were falling close about her, and her gun could 
 not reach the enemy. Thereupon the master 
 used his smoke-boxes. 
 
 A black vapour rolled upon the water; and 
 behind that dusky shield, the master of the 
 Nitronian fled with his eight thousand tons of 
 precious cargo, fifty-five lives of men, and his 
 great ship in which a fire smouldered. There 
 was scant hope of escape; but there was a 
 chance. 
 
 Under cover of the thick smoke the master 
 held on for half an hour; and when it thinned 
 the submarine had drawn nearer, so near that 
 she was within range. 
 
 The gunners of the Nitronian instantly 
 opened fire again, the sixth shot narrowly miss- 
 ing the submarine, which promptly went about, 
 retreated at full speed, dived, and was no more 
 seen. 
 
 Soon afterwards one of his Majesty's ships 
 escorted the Nitronian into harbour, where the 
 fire was put out. The Nitronian sailed again 
 and safely arrived at her port of destination. 
 
 Ship and cargo and men had been saved by 
 the judgment, skilled seamanship and constancy 
 of the master, supported by the excellent con- 
 duct of the crew, of whom "the master speaks 
 in the highest possible terms. ' ' 
 
LIX 
 
 The Danger Zone 
 
 The steamship Cavour, mounting a gun, was 
 escorting the steamship Clifftower, which was 
 unarmed, home from a South American port. 
 On July 8th, 1917, when the two ships were off 
 the Lizard, the Clifftower keeping station about 
 a mile astern of the Cavour, the Clifftower sig- 
 nalled that she was being attacked by a sub- 
 marine. The master of the Cavour put his helm 
 over, and, steaming broad off the starboard bow 
 of his convoy, saw the enemy lying close to her 
 starboard quarter. 
 
 Putting the Cavour about, the master ordered 
 the gunners to open fire. The first shot burst 
 over the bows of the submarine, the second close 
 to her, and then she submerged. 
 
 In the meantime, wireless messages had been 
 sent from both vessels. The smoke of a de- 
 stroyer was already in sight; and within ten 
 minutes, she came tearing along at full speed, 
 eased down, and circled about the place where 
 the submarine had been, while the Cavour and 
 the Clifftower made haste to depart. 
 
 A few minutes later a speck appeared in the 
 310 
 
THE DANGER ZONE 311 
 
 sky, low down, grew momently larger, and pres- 
 ently an airship glided over the destroyer and 
 hovered there. 
 
 That was the last the two escaping ships saw 
 of the affair; the long black destroyer, the 
 smoke, the vigilant silver fish floating poised, 
 watching, in the empyrean . . . And the mas- 
 ter of the Cavour observes that "there would 
 appear to be a possibility of the submarine hav- 
 ing been destroyed.' ' 
 
LX 
 
 Receiving Visitors 
 
 Here is the description of a late type of Ger- 
 man submarine, contributed by a British master 
 who profited by a singular opportunity of sur- 
 veying the vessel at disagreeably close quarters. 
 
 She was about 150 feet in length, having one 
 gun mounted aft, and two torpedo-tubes fitted 
 in the bows outside the main structure. She 
 carried a wire over all, which appeared to have 
 wireless aerials rigged to it. She had a semi- 
 circular steel dodger for a conning tower. No 
 periscopes were visible. Lashed down on the 
 after deck were a boat and a raft. She was 
 painted light grey above the water and choco- 
 late colour below, and carried no mark, nor 
 number nor flag. She was very easy to handle 
 and of high speed. 
 
 The master, when he took note of the pirate 
 vessel, was sitting alongside her in his boat, con- 
 versing with the commanding officer of the sub- 
 marine, who had just torpedoed the master's 
 ship. She had been badly damaged, but had 
 righted herself. The German officer, with seven 
 men, embarked in the master's boat and ordered 
 the crew to pull them over to the ship. 
 
 313 
 
RECEIVING VISITORS 313 
 
 While the German sailors were about dis- 
 mounting the ship's gun, the German officer 
 invited the master to accompany him into the 
 chart room, where the German took possession 
 of the charts, and thence into the master's cabin. 
 
 Now the master, by reason of the effect upon 
 him of the tremendous shock of the explosion 
 and of some very distressing consequences 
 thereof, had forgotten to destroy his confiden- 
 tial papers before leaving the ship. These were 
 contained in a bag, and the bag was on the seat 
 of the master's chair. 
 
 Upon entering his cabin, the master, with 
 great presence of mind, sat down on his papers 
 (like the miser who used to warm his dinner by 
 sitting upon it). There he was glued, while the 
 German officer plied him with leading questions 
 concerning the position of mine fields, and ap- 
 propriated the ship's chronometers and other 
 articles which took his fancy. In the meantime, 
 the master became aware that the German sail- 
 ors were also pillaging the ship. 
 
 It is remarkable that the German officer did 
 not ask for the confidential papers, usually the 
 first demand of German submarine officers. 
 When the German, in the course of his research- 
 es, turned his back, the master smuggled the bag 
 of papers under his overcoat, and strolled 
 towards the door. But the German was along- 
 side him in a moment. 
 
 "I come mit you, my friend," said the Ger- 
 man ; whereupon the master loitered back to his 
 chair and sat down again, as though in an ex- 
 tremity of fatigue. The German continued 
 
314 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 amiably to fill his pockets, and again the master, 
 as though in absence of mind, edged towards the 
 door, and again the German was elbow to elbow 
 with him. 
 
 Then the master tried again, and then again, 
 and the same thing happened. By that time, 
 the German officer, finding nothing more he 
 wanted, suggested they should go on deck. The 
 master, as a last resource, dropped his overcoat, 
 in which the bag was concealed, over the chair, 
 and so left it. 
 
 The German sailors, having placed bombs for- 
 ward in the ship, and loaded the master's boat 
 with stores and gear, embarked in her, followed 
 by the German officer and the master. As they 
 drew clear of the ship, the bombs exploded, but 
 the vessel remained afloat. When the master's 
 boat had been sent adrift by the submarine offi- 
 cer, the master saw the submarine, after firing 
 into the ship, go alongside her. The submarine 
 remained under the ship 's quarter for about two 
 hours, but at the distance his boat lay from the 
 ship the master could not see whether or not the 
 Germans went aboard again. 
 
 So they may have obtained the papers, or 
 they may not. Life may be stranger than fic- 
 tion, but it is not nearly so satisfactory; for 
 what teller of tales but would have depicted the 
 German as completely outwitted by the British 
 seaman? Truth is an austere mistress. And 
 yet she is kind, too ; for she will have us to know 
 that the British seaman is getting the upper 
 hand of the outlaw of the sea, and permits us to 
 be very sure that he will keep it. 
 
LXI 
 
 The Master op the " Nelson' ' 
 
 Sometimes a name is like a flag, a symbol to 
 hearten and to clench defiance. The smack was 
 called the Nelson. She was a fishing vessel, 
 fitted with an auxiliary motor, and mounting a 
 gun. Her master wrote R.N.R. after his name. 
 
 Upon an August afternoon, he shot the trawl 
 and put the Nelson on the port tack. Then he 
 went below to pack fish, leaving a hand on deck 
 who was busy cleaning fish for to-morrow's 
 breakfast. 
 
 Presently the master, returning to the deck, 
 sighted a distant craft, stared at it intently, sent 
 for his glasses, and stared at it again. Then he 
 sang out : 
 
 ' ' Clear for action! Submarine !" 
 
 A shell struck up a fountain about a hundred 
 yards away on the port bow. The man who was 
 cleaning fish ran to the ammunition room, the 
 engineer went to his motor, and the rest of the 
 men let go the warp, putting a dan on the end of 
 it in order to be able to pick up the trawl after- 
 wards. The master took the helm. 
 
 The distant submarine continued to fire. The 
 Nelson was outranged, but the master, watch- 
 
 315 
 
316 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 ing the shells striking near about the smack, 
 gave the order to return the fire. 
 
 "No use waiting any longer," said the mas- 
 ter. ' ' Let them have it. ' ' 
 
 The gunner did his best, but his shots fell 
 hopelessly short. The fourth round fired by the 
 submarine went through the bows of the smack 
 below the waterline. The master put the smack 
 about to get the submarine astern. 
 
 At the seventh round fired by the submarine, 
 the shell struck the master, tearing a piece out 
 of his side, pierced the deck and passed out of 
 the smack through her side. As the master fell, 
 his son took the wheel. The smack was sinking 
 under their feet. 
 
 The gunner tried to give first aid to the mas- 
 ter, but he was beyond mortal help. 
 
 "It's all right, boy. Do your best with the 
 gun," said the master; and he called to the 
 second hand to send a message. The second 
 hand wrote at the dying man's dictation, and 
 this was what he wrote: — 
 
 "Nelson being attacked by submarine. Skip- 
 per killed. Send assistance at once. ' ' 
 
 The paper was attached to the pigeon, and 
 the bird carried the news of a man's death, sent 
 by the man himself. 
 
 The smack was settling down ; there were left 
 but five rounds of ammunition ; and the second 
 hand went to the skipper lying there on the deck 
 and heard him say : 
 
 "Abandon ship. Throw the books over- 
 board. ' ' He meant his confidential papers, and 
 it was done. 
 
THE MASTER OF THE "NELSON" 317 
 
 He was asked then if they should lift him into 
 the boat, but his answer was : 
 
 "Tom, I'm done. Throw me overboard." 
 
 But he was so dreadfully wounded that they 
 dared not try to move him; and they left him 
 where he lay on the deck, which was level with 
 the water, embarked in the boat, and lay off, 
 waiting for the end. The dusk was gathering, 
 and there was a great stillness, for the subma- 
 rine had gone away. 
 
 About a quarter of an hour afterwards, the 
 Nelson, her colours flying, went down with her 
 master. 
 
 The rest of the crew pulled towards England 
 all that night. Towards morning, the wind 
 freshened and blew them out of their course. 
 They hoisted a pair of trousers and a piece of 
 oilskin on two oars as a signal of distress, and 
 rowed all that day in heavy weather, and all 
 that night until the dawn. By that time the 
 wind and sea had gone down ; and they sighted 
 a buoy and made fast to it, and lay there until 
 the afternoon, when they were rescued. 
 
 The name of the master of the Nelson 
 was Thomas Crisp, R.N.R., and his Majesty the 
 King was graciously pleased to approve of the 
 (posthumous) award to Skipper Thomas Crisp 
 of the Victoria Cross. 
 
Envoy 
 
 In making this book, it has been the author 's 
 purpose to delineate in simple outline the deeds 
 and hardihood of the officers and men of the 
 Merchant Service. Out of hundreds of ex- 
 amples, those instances have been selected which 
 are typical of many others chronicled in the 
 records. 
 
 The British seaman, and not only the British 
 seaman but the seamen of other nationalities 
 who serve in the British Merchant Service, are 
 to-day what they have always been : unconquer- 
 able, tenacious, silent, infinitely patient. Long 
 before the war, the present writer, pondering 
 upon the men of the sea, dreamed of a time 
 when they should enter upon their part of that 
 heritage of wealth which for centuries they have 
 toiled and endured, sweated and frozen, to get 
 for others ; when they should earn share as well 
 as wage, and be sure of steady and highly-paid 
 employment in well-found ships, and a snug 
 pension when their seafaring days are done. 
 
 The sea service should be, but is not, a chief 
 pride of England. Upon the sea service she 
 should delight to lavish care and bounty. Now 
 that her hoards of money have been taken away 
 
 318 
 
ENVOY 319 
 
 from her, perhaps England may discern with a 
 purged vision the things that belong to her 
 honour. 
 
 The merchant seaman in the war has proved 
 his title to praise and to his part in wealth. But 
 he did that long ago. Now he has proved it 
 again. But, unless the present writer is mis- 
 taken, the merchant seaman has now learned 
 what is his due, and when the time comes he will 
 refuse to be put off, and will claim it. But there 
 should be no need to make the demand. . . . 
 
 For now is the time to establish the Imperial 
 Transport Service, in which the State and the 
 shipowner make common cause. 
 
 There is a road runs broad from the docks 
 into the heart of the East End, and that is the 
 road the seaman walks when he lands in Port of 
 London. The deck-hands and the firemen tramp 
 along the foul pavement, feeling the whole earth 
 solid under their boot-soles because it does not 
 lift to the sea, with their pockets full of money, 
 and their hearts burning with the lust of life 
 known to the wandering exile. So they come to 
 a place where two roads meet ; a place of squalid 
 shops and foreign smells and filthy public- 
 houses, infamous kens and the trulls of the 
 causeway. The money is out in a week, some- 
 times in a night, and the man is lucky if his head 
 be not broken, and then he signs on once more. 
 And that is what Port of London does for the 
 merchant seaman. 
 
 But happily that is not all. For, at that place 
 where the two roads meet, the British and For- 
 
320 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 
 
 eign Sailors ' Society has built a home for the 
 men. It is an example and a beginning. If Lon- 
 don did what London onght to do, her gover- 
 nors would abolish some square miles of fester- 
 ing, wicked private property and build a new 
 Sailor Town. Why not? And why not do the 
 same in every port? 
 
 In conclusion, the present writer desires to 
 express his gratitude to those naval officers at 
 the Admiralty who, in the midst of their own 
 unremitting labours, have so courteously and 
 kindly helped him in his task. 
 
 L. C. C. 
 
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