Andrew Wareham - The Death of Hope

It was comforting to be told that he was respected in his own right.

“What do we do about these damned submarines, sir?”

“Avoid them. You may be taken into Chatham for a month or two to have depth charge rails fitted. A sort of bomb to be heaved off the stern, exploding under the surface. If you can drop them on top of the submarine, you will do it no favours. That does, of course, mean you have to locate it first, underwater.”

“I have been told of hydrophones, sir.”

“So have I, Sturton. How they work, how you use them, I do not know. For the while, keep a good lookout for torpedoes, especially when there is a full moon and no cloud. They don’t fire at night otherwise and you might be able to see their tracks in daylight. With luck.”

The destroyers had masts, essentially decorative structures, the fore being for signals, the after mast having no obvious function at all. The Admiralty liked its ships to have masts – never knew when they might come in handy and a ship wasn’t a real ship if it didn’t have one, or two.

“Coxswain, we can expect to be attacked by submarines, I am informed. With torpedoes. What’s the chance of reinforcing the after mast and putting a lookout up high?”

“None, sir!”

Westerman was in no mood to tolerate nonsense from his captain, thought it wiser to end any foolish ideas he might have.

“That stick will not take the weight of a man however many guys we rig to it, sir. It serves to fly a flag when we go into battle, assuming we hoist such colours for some reason that amuses an admiral, sir.”

“Pity. More possible to spot a torpedo if the lookout is at high.”

“Can’t be done, sir. The masts are not for practical use, sir. Wireless and signals to the fore, mainmast, strictly speaking, sir. Nothing to the mizzen.”

“Well, it was a thought. I shall require extra lookouts in the day and on moonlit nights, Coxswain.”

“Put one up on the Maxim bandstand, sir. That will give a little height.”

“Limited vision.”

“Yes, sir. Nothing forrard, full scan port and starboard and astern. Two men in the bows, at low speed, that is. Two bridge lookouts. Will it make sense to have one in the stern, sir?”

“If we are not in company, yes. No great gain if we have the half-flotilla behind us.”

Five pairs of eyes, all fairly close to sea level, unlikely to spot a torpedo at any range.

Simon called the three captains to conference.

“If torpedoes are seen, comb the tracks. Turn towards and present a bows on target rather than the beam. Full speed. That is obvious enough. What else?”

“Zigzag, sir. Never holding a straight course for more than say five minutes at a time. Make it difficult to take an aim.”

Travis of Lightning making a sensible suggestion.

“Each ship to maintain its own zigzag so that at any moment some will be port of the mean course, others may be starboard. Make it unpredictable. An end to the line astern at a rigid two cables.”

Campbell-Barnes shook his head.

“Won’t be popular with admirals, sir. Any senior captain seeing us doing that will blow his top. Untidy, sir. Not allowable. Far better to be sunk by a torpedo than to vary from the line, sir.”

“Accepted – the more rigid gentlemen will be unable to tolerate such a breach of decency. I do not doubt I shall be threatened with a court should any of the more senior observe such a lapse from proper standards. I prefer to take that risk rather than invite an almost certain sinking. Intelligence is sure that we will be targeted by submarines. Very likely that they will attack from the safety of Dutch waters.”

“What can we do about that, sir?”

“Nothing. Under no circumstances will we ever stray by so much as an inch into Dutch waters. You will lose your ship if you do – no appeal, no argument. You will not venture into Dutch waters, will not shell any German vessels spotted there. You will be broken if you do. So will I. It is an absolute, I am afraid – no leeway at all. The Dutch know that German ships are breaking the rules, and that British ships are not. They are building up their own navy and training their army. By next year they will be able to enforce neutrality. For the while, they appreciate that we are scrupulous in our observance of their rights and it is useful to us. I am told that interned British soldiers are being sent home, supposedly on medical grounds but actually because the Germans have annoyed them. Escapees from prison camps are being put directly onto ships to England, no questions asked. Add to that, the Dutch are aiding Americans to enter Belgium and report on conditions there. We must not jeopardise Dutch goodwill.”

The three acknowledged Simon’s words, promised to be good.

A month of barren patrolling and the half-flotilla was ordered back to Harwich, told to prepare their demands for the dockyard. Simon was again given a meeting with Tyrwhitt, further evidence of favour.

“We have four weeks of dockyard time for you, Sturton. At Chatham. Pulling out the Maxim and replacing it with something that will be effective as a high-angle gun as well as for normal use. What, I don’t know. They are undecided as yet. Might be a two-pounder pompom. Could be a three inch, a twelve pounder quickfirer. All depends on what is to hand on the day. The three inch has the advantage that it can be used against Zeppelins, having a far greater range than the pompom.”

“I’ve never seen a Zeppelin, sir. We have met seaplanes more than once.”

Tyrwhitt knew that, wondered how they had managed to shoot one down.

“I am fortunate in my Gunner, sir.”

“And no more to be said, Sturton. You did well. For the moment, the important thing is leave. I want you to take at least three weeks, Sturton. Patrolling almost every night is fatiguing. Dangerous to the health. Put the ship in the hands of your Number One – you have told me he is a good man – and disappear, Sturton. Between us, we will arrange for your whole crew to get at least a fortnight. Commission has come through for your Engineer, Mr Malcolm. You may lose him as a result, of course. There is a shortage of skilled men in the yards and there are new ships being launched every month. He may end up in a cruiser or as senior in a flotilla of the new sloops coming off the stocks. Always possible he may be given to one of the new monitors – several of them in the building and some of them far better designed than the originals.”

“Swings and roundabouts, sir. Give with one hand…”

“Take with the other. I know. Can your Canning be made?”

“Yes. He could command a small ship now, will be capable of something far larger in a year or two. An able man indeed.”

“Then you will lose him. I will appoint a good youngster in his place. Don’t worry about that now. Go and make arrangements to go off tomorrow.”

“I will need to send a telegram, sir.”

“My office will deal with that for you and bring any reply across.”

The Parretts responded within the hour. Simon was welcome indeed.

“Packer! Three weeks leave, you with me. Off to Ipswich first. In the morning.”

All would be ready.

Alice Parrett was waiting with the gig when he arrived at the station.

“Orders, sir.”

Richard thanked the runner from Brigade, sat down below the lip of the trench to read the single sheet of paper. The battalion was to push forward, must take the bunkers before nightfall. The battalion to their left had experienced unacceptable casualties, coming up against uncut wire, would not be moving forward. Reserves would be moved up to secure the left flank as soon as they became available.

“Not a bloody chance! Major Vokes!”