Andrew Wareham - The Death of Hope

“Twelve dead and eighteen wounded, sir. No officers whole, sir. Midshipman has the bridge, Commissioned Gunner in charge of damage control. Pumping but able to hold the inflow of water, sir. Engineroom taken damage and casualties, able to make twelve knots.”

“Eleven hours to Harwich. Message Commodore. ‘Position such and such. ETA Harwich, 1700 hours. Severely wounded in urgent need of medical attention. Figures for half-flotilla forty dead, sixty wounded. Prisoners number thirteen, all in need of medical assistance.’”

Strachan ran below with the message, adding the precise position.

A first message with the bald facts of the action had been sent almost as soon as the guns fell silent.

Twenty minutes and there was a reply.

“Medical aid despatched. ETA 1300.”

“That should be one of the light cruisers, sir. They can make the better part of thirty knots and carry a doctor.”

“Inform Lynx and Lucifer.”

Eight of the wounded had succumbed before Arethusa appeared at full steam, lowering her boats as she reached the three ships.

“Looks like a doctor in each going to Lynx and Lucifer, sir. Must have put extra bodies aboard at Harwich. Sick berth orderlies coming to us. Engineer in the boat for Lucifer as well, sir.”

An hour and Lucifer reported that repairs had been impossible, she would continue at twelve knots on one shaft.

“Orderly from Arethusa requesting to speak to you, sir.”

Simon went belowdecks, found the orderly and his party of three packing their bags.

“Patched up the prisoners, sir. All should make it to shore hospital, though one at least has swallowed fuel oil. Done his guts no favours at all! Might I request a boat, sir, to one of the other ships?”

“Certainly. Thank you for your help. Lucifer was worst hit, I will send you there.”

The orderlies were often Quakers or others who would not shed blood but wished to serve, refusing the commissions their education and class would normally have expected. They were commonly to be found where the need was greatest.

They reached the yard at Harwich, tied up at spaces hastily cleared for them. There were ambulances waiting and photographers from the Press, accompanied by a Lieutenant.

“Orders from the Admiralty, sir. Pictures of survivors from the ship you sank, rescued at great risk. Lightning’s loss will be announced tomorrow.”

It seemed more than ordinarily dishonest. Lieutenant commanders did not argue with the Admiralty.

“Mr Strachan, prisoners to the brow, please. Hand them over to the Military Police who are waiting for them.”

The Germans left the ship in silence, apart from the calls of the photographers as they posed them for the best drama, British hands carrying the single stretcher.

“Bastards!”

“Admiralty, Military Police, Press or Germans, Number One? Might be a difficult choice.”

Strachan chose not to reply.

“Commodore’s staff lieutenant coming aboard, sir.”

Simon was invited to the offices, not to speak to the newspapers until he had briefed his master.

“Coming up to Christmas and the Admiralty does not want bad news, Sturton. Lightning’s loss will be slipped out in the evening papers tomorrow. As it stands, there will be photographs of your damaged gun and mention of a few brave tars who lost their lives and over all will be the German prisoners, ‘plucked from the night seas’, no doubt. Such honourable fellows we are!”

“They get more dishonest every month, sir.”

“I think you are right, Sturton. Don’t matter, do it? We have no choice other than to fight on. Back to the yard at Chatham for your ships, it would seem, Sturton, possibly for a long time. Might well end up simply transferring the bulk of your crews into different boats. I shall wait for orders from on high for that. What happened?”

“Five German destroyers, waiting for us. They spotted us first, how I do not know. They opened the party with just four torpedoes, fortunately. Had they each fired four, crossing, we would have been hit for sure.”

Tyrwhitt nodded.

“Confirms a bit of intelligence we have received. Shortage of munitions. They are permitted to use only one torpedo on a small ship such as a destroyer. They fired one for each of you, in a single salvo to increase their chance of hitting any. Bending the rules, you might say.”

“They might have done better to wait another minute or two and then use gunfire only, sir. As it was, we were able to commence evasive action. The question arises, how did they see us first?”

“They knew where you were, within a mile. A submarine spotted you and sent a wireless message when it surfaced after dark. Then it followed you at two or three miles distant, continuing to send messages. Not worth using their few torpedoes on small, fast ships. So they called for help. Our people picked up the transmissions, did not decode them in time. You were patrolling at low speed. I think in future we must set a minimum of fifteen knots on night patrol. No sub will match that.”

“At least it was not a question of efficiency, of their lookouts being better than ours.”

“No. An effective ambush. We have a new light cruiser on station, sister to Arethusa. Naiad. She is yours, Sturton, with seven destroyers, all L Class. Take command tomorrow with your fellow Strachan as your Number One. I don’t think he is ready for command yet, do you agree?”

“Three more months, sir. He is learning fast. My thanks for the command, sir. Anything particular you must tell me of her, sir?”

“Not really, Sturton. You will discover why captain and first are replaced – it should not affect the efficiency of the ship and is best kept quiet. If I say nothing in this office, nothing can be overheard. Oh, you know one of the lieutenants, thought he should join up with you again.”

Tyrwhitt was trying to suppress his grin. Simon felt a sick certainty.

“Can I refuse the command, sir?”

“No! You’ve got it. And him. As you have guessed, Mr Higgins is coming back to you, Sturton. You have made him all he is, my dear fellow, and he is all yours!”

“I cannot express my thanks too profusely, sir!”

Tyrwhitt, collapsed over his desk, roaring with laughter.

“The Coastal Motor Boats are not ready for action yet. Some sort of problem with the motors, it seems, needing a rebuild. He is at a loose end, as a result.”

“Describes the boy only too well, sir!”

“You are acting commander with immediate effect, Sturton. Well done, sir! Are there any of your people who should be mentioned?”

“Williams, sir, of Lynx. Brought his ship alongside and held her long enough for Lightning’s crew to step across. Very deserving, sir. I have a list of casualties who will need replacing in their ships, sir. Lucifer is down to her midshipman, her officers all dead or severely wounded. Campbell-Barnes survived. I do not know his condition. The mid did well to bring her back – I offered one of my people to relieve him, he replied he had his certificate and could hold the bridge until he had brought her in. A Mention at the least, sir?”

“DSC for that, I think, Sturton. Impressive behaviour. I do not doubt the Admiralty will accept my recommendation for him and for Williams. What of this destroyer you sank? Whose was it?”

“Lancelot’s, sir. My Mr Rees saw the opportunity and fired his torpedoes. My orders for night action give him the scope to select targets and fire torpedoes or guns at his discretion. He tells me that the Hotchkiss was very effective, by the way. Far more so than the Maxim would have been. I would recommend their use on all destroyers, sir.”

“Noted. Whether Their Lordships will want a French gun on an English ship is another matter, of course. They are capable of being very petty on occasion. I was surprised they permitted the experiment of placing one aboard Lancelot.”