Andrew Wareham - End to Illusion

Simon stood tall on the bridge, trying to show unconcerned by shellfire from three different sources, spotted that Sheldrake was lying oblique to the four minelayers which had come into line astern in close order for better protection.

“Mr Rees, port quarter! Both tubes, fire when you are on!”

He called the coxswain to hold Sheldrake steady, watched as Rees yelled at his torpedomen and then fired both.

“Close the nearest destroyer, Coxswain! All guns that will bear. Lewises as well, Mr Waller!”

With a little luck, the torpedoes would be unnoticed under the gun attack, the destroyer would not call the change of course for them to pass through the line.

“Running time is up, sir…”

There was an explosion and one of the vaguely seen minelayers was brightly illuminated and then lost in a massive flash of light as the remainder of her cargo blew her apart. Seconds and the layer immediately astern exploded and sank, hit presumably by flying debris. Sheldrake tossed violently in the tidal wave resulting, the coxswain heaving her round to avoid the damaged destroyer crabbing across her path.

“Close her Coxswain! Mr Parrett! Make ready to board!”

Almost alongside and they saw that the German was down by the bows, going rapidly.

“Rescue survivors, Mr Parrett.”

They were alone, it seemed, the action disappeared in their wake. Simon spotted shells exploding a good two miles away. Even at slow speed ships going in opposite directions vanished quickly in the night.

“Coxswain, hold us to her stern.”

It was a risk – yet he could see movement and the sailors stood more chance of living if they did not have to jump into the sea in the night.

Two minutes of metal grating together and men bellowing.

“Got ‘em all, sir!”

“Pull away, Coxswain!”

A short time and Polly appeared on the bridge.

“Eleven ratings and an officer, sir. Their Gunner, I think. He has some English, said the bridge party all went down under our machine guns. The bows were stove in when the minelayers blew and they lost all the men in the forward parts. He has given his formal surrender, sir. Their first aid attendant – that’s what he called him – was on deck working on wounded there and managed to bring them aboard. I’ve got him busy in the wardroom, sir.”

“Good. Nothing like a few prisoners to show we have been active, Number One. No point to closing the location where the minelayers went down. They must be lost with all hands; nothing would have survived those explosions. Take a course to join the action, though it seems to have died down now.”

An hour and it was clear that everything was over for the night and the only logical course was to go home.

“Make out to sea another five miles and then take a circle back to Dunkerque, Polly. The new mines should be inshore of us then.”

Simon retired to his cabin and started on his report while it was still fresh in his mind.

They came into harbour at first light, spotting Starling and Grouse already in, tied up at the wharf. Lights flashed from SNO’s office and ordered him to join them.

“No sign of Blackbird, sir.”

“Time yet for her to come in, Polly.”

The Yeoman called out a signal.

“Captain Sheldrake report SNO, sir.”

Simon ran to the side, was first ashore, his report in his hand.

The Senior Naval Officer was accompanied by his staff, a pair of smart lieutenants, far too privileged ever to go to sea.

“Take a seat, Sturton. Matthews is gone. Blackbird went down with all hands in sight of Starling. Grouse lost her captain and First and was brought in by her sub. What happened? Eldridge reported a pair of explosions and thought it was in your area.”

Two minelayers and a destroyer more than made up for the loss of Blackbird. The night’s loss became a victory, much to the pleasure of the shore establishment. Telegrams were sent to the Admiralty to report on the successful action. Commodore Tyrwhitt was informed by wireless and recorded his delight at the news.

“Get yourself some sleep, Sturton. Take a party back to pick up your prisoners first. I’ll order an ambulance as well. March the unwounded back through the streets to the Provost office – let the locals see the evidence!”

News arrived in mid-morning. The SNO, a post-captain, had been promoted out with immediate effect, the victory sufficient to make him the man to fill a vacancy in the destroyers at Scapa Flow where he was to become Commodore. It was a mixed blessing – he had enjoyed life at Dunkerque where he had been widely believed to be keeping a local mistress. There were no luxuries of that sort at Scapa.

A Captain Goodwin was to replace him, could do so quickly for being with the Naval Brigade in Flanders.

Goodwin arrived two hours later, delighted to be back to the ‘proper Navy’. He came bearing gifts.

“Sturton? Good to see you. You are lieutenant commander with immediate effect and have the half-section. Return with Grouse and Starling to Harwich. You will be based there for a month or two while you pick up a fourth boat and get your half-section together. Well done. Bar to your DSC, as well. Mentions to all deck officers and the mid. You were considered for a Cross, I would add – you did well last night. If that destroyer had fought and you had been able to take her, you would certainly have made a VC. As it is, the Admiralty is pleased with you and the newspapers will carry your name and face, again. Is your First fit for command?”

“Very barely, sir. He should have another six months experience as premier. He will be good but he’s still raw. Even more than I am!”

“Risk it! I’ll put him up for Grouse. It will be popular, the press will like it and you can hold his hand for a month. Commodore Tyrwhitt can be given the wink to appoint an experienced first for him. Easy enough to find a man who knows how to run a ship but lacks the initiative to make a captain – plenty of them about and often happy to be number two rather than in charge. Strange, ain’t it?”

Simon could not comprehend such a person.

“You will be getting a new boat soon and Parrett can stay in Grouse and go off to the Med. Out of harm’s way there for a year while he settles into the job. All will be well! Sail for late afternoon, getting in at Harwich for the morning’s tide. Keep an eye out for Grouse when it comes to mooring her.”

“Very good, sir. Torpedoes, sir. Can I go into the yard for them this morning? Don’t like sailing without any teeth.”

“Make it so, Sturton. Grouse and Starling as well. Give Parrett the good news and send him across to Grouse at soonest.”

“Polly, you have Grouse. In command. Well done. Into the yard to pick up torpedoes as soon as Starling comes out; she will be following Sheldrake. Chop, chop, now! No time to waste.”

“Oh, but… Yes, on my way, sir!”

Polly ran, an incredulous grin surfacing.

“Packer! Sew up a half stripe on all my uniforms.”

Packer ran to obey. Simon trotted off to the bridge and took Sheldrake across to the torpedo wharf.

“Mr Rees! All yours. Do we need four inch or twelve pounder rounds? We are bound for Harwich overnight, should remain there for a few weeks while we work up Blackbird’s replacement. Half-stripe to the funnel, if you please. Polly is made into Grouse and I don’t know when a new Number One will arrive.”

It went without saying that Higgins could not step up into Polly’s place, even temporarily.

“Congratulations, sir.”

“Thank you, Mr Rees. Yeoman!”

“Sir?”

“We have the half-section. Do you need any extras in the way of communications?”

“A rating, sir. Could do with another pair of eyes to watch each ship for signals. Save a second or two that way, sir.”