Keeping the seas

Contents

Foreword I Commencing with Dover and the

Sixth Flotilla 13

II The Belgian Coast in 1 9 14 . . 21

Foreword

Naval officers have not generally been encouraged to write popular accounts of their experiences and adventures, and I have steadfastly refused to be " drawn " up to date; but quite recently officers of high rank have published books and memoirs that have quite an apologetic strain about them. What on earth the British Navy has to apologise for, I have yet to discover, and why the achievements of a magnificent soldier like Kitchener should be pulled to pieces now, I cannot imagine. However, there it is, and in placing my volume on the market I make no apology whatever. I have stories to tell which will throw light on the work of the satellites, whose tiny vessels patrolled the seas for four and a half years, not even weary years, mark you, because we in the little craft were too enthusiastic over the Allied cause and, incidentally, too proud of our Naval services to let anybody down.

Enthusiasm and self-confidence make for success in war, and it is of the sea enthusiasts that I write. The book cannnot please everybody, but it should please the majority, and its intention is to bring into the picture some of those whose names are unknown to the general public, but who, nevertheless, displayed a courage, ability and heroism almost unsurpassed in the history of the war.

Nor is the book written for those who believe too strongly in the proverb, " They also serve who stand and wait." it is rather for those whose motto is " Go in and win."

CHAPTER I Commencing with Dover and the Sixth Flotilla

At the commencement of hostilities against Germany, The Patrol Flotilla, attached to Dover Strait, consisted of twelve very fast destroyers classed as the Tribals, and in addition to these we had a dozen or so of small, obsolete torpedo-boat destroyers.

Although navally known as " thirty-knotters," these little vessels were virtually incapable of exceeding twenty-five knots at full speed. Some of them were built as far back as 1896, and in 1914 they were in various stages of decay. They had seen better days, these poor shabby little old-fashioned torpedo craft. Their captains and officers were proud of them nevertheless; their crews were happy and their sub-lieutenants, boys of twenty who were paid as their first and executive officers, spent hours in hiding the dented and patched disfigurements of age by a liberal use of black paint and a delicate addition of " pretty-pretties," such as polished brass wind-vanes on the mastheads and little badges fixed on the tiny dinghies which were carried by these'craft. The big-handed sailor men were proud of their floating homes, and they willingly put up with the most dreadful accommodation in the dark, ill-ventilated hole, officially named the mess-deck, for the greater freedom from bigship discipline, and the considerable increase to their scanty pay.

At the end of July, 19 14, I had the honour of commanding the Mohawk, one of the Tribals, and as the senior officer, I brought twelve fast destroyers to Dover, to join up with the thirty-knotters and, with them, to take over the patrol of Dover Strait and its approaches.

The officer who had charge of the Dover destroyers was Captain C. D. Johnson, R.N., of H.M.S. Attentive, and his naval title was Captain (D) Sixth Flotilla.

It may be explained that each destroyer flotilla has a captain in charge, and this officer is responsible for the discipline, organisation and conduct of the flotilla under his charge. The Captain (D) is in fact a miniature admiral, his flotilla a miniature fleet, and the officers commanding the destroyers in the flotilla are a certain number of commanders, each with his own division of four boats, while the remainder of the destroyer skippers are lieutenants or lieutenant-commanders. They are mostly very young men, frequently of independent opinion and generally full of initiative. A destroyer captain is a little tin god in his way, who should (and usually does) command the respect and affection of those in his little command.

Four light cruisers were attached to the Dover Patrol, under the orders of Captain Johnson ; none of them very new, but whatever designs the Germans had on Dover or the adjacent coasts of France, it is safe to say that the officers and men of the Sixth Flotilla and the attached cruisers were eager and anxious to go in against the enemy and win.

I well remember the howl of joy that went up from the destroyers when the yeoman of each little vessel strode firmly aft, with grim smile, and handed to his commanding officer the signal — " Commence hostilities against Germany."

During the critical period that preceded the fatal day, we destroyer captains were called on board, en masse, to hear our leaders' plans, and to gather what our duties would be. The plans were clear enough. The patrols were all decided and arranged for us, and shortly after the receipt of that signal, never to be forgotten, the black hulls of a score of destroyers were to be seen gliding out of the entrances of Dover harbour.

It was, of course, summer time, and the weather fine, clear and warm.

In the opinion of the majority, we had little chance of submarine encounters; the enemy had not so many U boats to spare in 19 14, and I think we expected the Hun to aim for something better, and to play for higher stakes than the somewhat faded vessels of the obsolete Sixth Flotilla. I may say here that I am not included in the ranks of the " Lets-all-be-gloomy Brigade," and whatever other people may say, I think the Admiralty of 19 14 deserve a pat on the back for their selection of the vessels in the Sixth Flotilla, when our war plans were worked out.

To start with, the Germans did not know everything. They did not know what submarines were ready to rip open the steel hulls of their attacking ships that might come our way by day. By night they would gain nothing by sending good ships through, which was practically asking for a destroyer attack under conditions most favourable to the destroyer.

i6

Before the Belgian coast ports were occupied, an enemy destroyer attack on Dover Straits was improbable during daylight hours, when the Harwich Force could, and would, have cut off their retreat. So what we really had to face was not very much until the days grew shorter and the hours of darkness lent themselves to more advantageous attacking conditions. Even then, as the year 19 14 drew to a close, it was none too likely that we should get a night destroyer raid, for the enemy had no very great inducement in sending modern destroyers to fight ships which, even if inferior in armament, were not inferior in speed, and not likely to be manned by gentlemen with cold feet. As we have seen in this war, night destroyer fights are not decided by numbers and armaments, so much as by luck and dash.

The Tribal class burnt oil fuel, their speeds in 19 14 were very high, and their sea-keeping qualities magnificent, as far as weather was concerned. Their disadvantages were in armament, especially in torpedoes, and in their high fuel consumption, which limited their radius of action compared to the destroyers of the now celebrated " L " class, and those of post-war pattern.

The following is a list of the Tribals, for those who care for a more detailed explanation: —

Name.

Original Speed.

Armament Date of Launch

Afridi

5 12-pounders and

Cossack

. 33.15 "

2 torpedo tubes

Ghurka

. 34

Mo/iaivk

. 34.51 "

Tartar

. 35.67 "

Saracen

. 33.8 "

2 4-inch and

Amazon

. 33.73 "

2 torpedo tubes

Crusader . .

. 35

Maori

. 33

Nubian

. 34.88 "

Viking

. 34.88 "

Zulu

. 34

And now let us turn to the thirty-knotters. noticed they were decidedly old-fashioned :-

It will be

Name.

Original

Speed.

Armament.

Date of Launch

Crane

. . 30.3 knots

Faiun

. . 30.5

Flirt

.. 30

Gipsy

.. 30

Leven

.. 30

1 12-pounder

Mermaid

.. 30

5 6-pounders

Falcon

.. 30 jj

2 torpedo tubes

Greyhound . .

.. 30

Kangaroo

.. 30 tf

Myrmidon . .

.. 30

Racehorse . .

.. 30 ii

Syren

.. 30

J

The Sixth Flotilla maintained their patrol nearly across the Straits. French destroyers and small torpedoboats kept watch on their own side. For some few months our Allies laboured with us at the somewhat uninteresting work of intercepting all vessels attempting to pass the Straits of Dover and diverting them through the Downs to be examined by men who knew; these men were a collection of officers with merchant service experience, who pretty shrewdly sized up fool and rogue, and who made it their business to separate the sheep from the goats. This intercepting work kept one constantly on the bridge ; by night we had great trouble with vessels who tried hard to evade the examination service and some of them were very clever; perhaps some of them got through ! Very early in the war the Zulu seized and took to Dover as a prize, a beautiful German sailing vessel. Her captain spoke English well, and knew nothing whatever of the war. He cheerily invited the Zulu's skipper on board and asked him down to drink " A long glass be-e-er." Poor man ! He burst into tears when the news was broken that the Zulu had 2 captured him — at least he has the distinction now of being one of the few living Germans who escaped some of the horrors of war.

By day our patrol duties were lighter; we got three days in harbour out of four, and three nights at sea out of four. It was not necesary to patrol so closely during the day time, for one could hold the Straits with five destroyers, whereas at night we thickened up the patrol line to stop anything passing through.

My own experience was that Dutch and Swedish vessels ignored our signals and the Admiralty's instructions most; but what we couldn't always get' into them by politeness we sometimes succeeded in doing by means of a blank charge, or a shot across their bows. Some, I fear, even descended to familiarities through the megaphone, such as " Van Tromp, old dear, you'll never see Rotterdam, Schiedam or Amsterdam again unless you take your dam ship through the Downs."

I caught up one large Dutch liner, the Tubantia, and made her anchor off Folkestone. She had some Germans on board, but we received orders at that time not to arrest Germans travelling on neutral ships Later on in the war the Germans torpedoed and sank her themselves.

On another occasion, shortly after Austria was declared our enemy, I caught an Austrian steamer, a splendid vessel, passing to the East of the Goodwins by the forbidden route. She stopped as directed and an officer boarded her, alas! to find that she had a " Days of Grace " permit allowing her to proceed unmolested to Austria. I was disappointed for she would have been a splendid prize.

The patrolling was a pleasure to begin with, albeit a somewhat strenuous pleasure, but we began to grow envious and restless when the news of the prowess of the " L " boats reached us. Four " L " boats were with the light cruiser Amphion when the German minelayer Kbnigin Luise was sunk, on the 5th August, 19 14, and these same boats rescued the crew of the Amphion the following day, when she struck one of the mines laid by her victim and was sunk herself in consequence.

It was on August 28th, less than a month after war was declared, that the " L " boats got their chance off Heligoland. The account of this now famous fight made us yearn for close action and, to my knowledge, certain of the destroyer captains applied for transfer to the destroyer forces working under the Commodore (T) at Harwich. The Zulu's captain became flag-lieutenant to Commodore Tyrwhitt of the Harwich striking force; but some of those who left Dover eventually regretted it.

However, the patrolling soon changed for the better. The Royal Naval Division, was sent to Antwerp, and it fell to the Sixth Flotilla destroyers to escort the huge transports that conveyed the troops to Ostend and Zeebrugge. Stealthily we moved away from Dover under cover of darkness; the large liners were never subjected to the risk of submarine attack between Dover and the ports of disembarkation. The transfer of the Naval Division was made in the early autumn nights when no moonlight could give away their movements. In the grey dawn, the steamers were berthed at Zeebrugge or Ostend and we, in our destroyers, watched them glide into these harbours, and hungrily gazed after those who crowded the vessels, wishing to be with them, wondering when they would meet the foe and hoping they would bring honour to the White Ensign. Perhaps

I was more envious than others for my friend, Commander Victor Campbell, was adjutant of the Drake Battalion, and I knew he would make good. Campbell had been first lieutenant of Captain Scott's famous exploring ship Terra Nova, when I had the honour of commanding her, but of Victor Campbell more anon.

CHAPTER II The Belgian Coast in 19 14

In late September, not so very long after the Heligoland Battle, Rear-Admiral, The Hon. Horace Hood, C.B., M.V.O., D.S.O., was appointed to command the Dover Patrol, and with his fighting instincts he could not keep his motley squadron away from the Belgian coast. It fell to Admiral Hood to arrange the preliminary work of the coastal bombardments. Flying his flag in the destroyer Amazon (Commander Harry Oliphant), Hood led the destroyers close into Ostend Roads, shelled the right wing of the advancing German Army, and, one bright Sunday morning, to the surprise and annoyance of my fellow explorer, Sven Hedin, the destroyers, with incredible audacity, came close to the shore and one of their shells blew away the dejeuner and killed the guest of the aforesaid Swedish gentleman. Dr. Sven Hedin (who is an Honorary Knight Commander of the Royal Victorian Order) , was one of those delightful neutrals who " backed the wrong horse." He not only sympathised with Germany, but actively assisted the Hun by his journalistic efforts and general propaganda work. At the present moment, 10th April, 19 1 9, I am sitting in the Hotel de Londres at Ostend, and, as I glance out of the window, I see everywhere signs of the " Gentle German," which Sven Hedin so inaccurately describes. All the ironwork of the balconies has been broken off, lamp-posts are torn away, cranes have been wrecked, dredgers sunk and so forth. In the houses, chandeliers have been pulled down and stolen, marble staircases wrecked, houses mutilated, drains cut, water supplies ruined and the " mark of the beast " is everywhere. I find that Sir Sven Hedin (K.C.V.O.) does not contrast favourably with the clear blue-eyed Norseman, Amundsen, that intrepid explorer who showed his contempt for the " Gentle German " by handing back all his Hun decorations as a protest against the thousands of murders of neutral seamen by those sailing under the German Naval Ensign.

I think I am correct in quoting a highly-placed Norwegian official, who informed me that not one Norwegian life was lost through the action of the Allied Navies.

The Belgian coast bombardments commenced seriously in October, 19 14, when Admiral Hood shelled the enemy in accordance with the wishes of the Belgian and British Headquarters Staff. The vessels we had to begin with cut a sorry figure when compared to the monitors of 19 1 8. The bombarding flotilla consisted of the antiquated gunboats which had been used for training seamen in peace time by the Gunnery Schools at Portsmouth, Plymouth and Sheerness. We had some capital little monitors of 1,260 tons displacement and about twelve knots speed, which mounted then a pair of 6-inch guns in a turret forward, and a 4.7 gun aft.

These vessels, the Humber, Mersey and Severn, were built by Armstrong's, to the order of a foreign Government, but never delivered. They did excellent work, and their shallow draught, which required only a fathom of water to manoeuvre in, rendered them eminently suitable for the operations in progress. In

(Photographed by Speaight, Ltd.)

KING ALBERT.

The Hero Monarch, on the Battlefield of Flanders During the War.

1 9 14, well-organised as the German Army undoubtedly was, the enemy shore artillery made a sorry display against a moving target, although the speed of the bombarding vessels was " nothing to write home about."

The most absurd feature of these early sea bombardments was the introduction of the two " Flat Iron " gunboats, Excellent and Bustard. They were the absolute limit! Phew ! . . . Smaller than the Thames penny steamboats, slower than the Philadelphia snails, they literally crawled about like tortoises; getting into position, firing, one of them a 9.2-inch gun and the other a 6-inch breech loader, drifting off their marks in the tideway and then laboriously groping back and " loosing off " once more. It was extremely comic! but we had nothing else to spare.

Forgive me if I depart from the spirit of the critics; everybody slangs Winston, but he sent us these ships, which were exquisitely described as of no naval value. They were unfit for ordinary sea fighting, but I laughed into my early morning tea and spluttered crumbs from the bread and butter with which I fortified my empty stomach, whilst I watched these quaint sea practices. It was good to be alive. The Germans fired a lot of stuff back at us, but did very little damage. A shell makes a pretty splash in the sea, and these coastal operations — for most of us our baptism of fire — did us a lot of good.

During the time that Admiral Hood directed operations from the Amazon, a signalman had been stationed at the end of Nieuport Pier for the purpose of passing signals from the Army to the Admiral, and vice versa. The flag lieutenant who accompanied the Admiral was Bill Adams or, to give him his navy list title, Lieutenant Jamieson B. Adams, R.N.R. Adams was an old Antarctic explorer, having been second in command to Sir Ernest Shackleton on the famous expedition of 1907, when he accompanied his leader to a point within 100 miles of the South Pole itself. He had a charming and humourous personality, was a regular handy man and, as the Norsemen say, " had an eye on every finger."

The destroyers were being fired at fairly heavily, and Adams was much put to it with hts small signal staff to keep things going. However, he managed to keep an eye on the connecting link, who was continually flashing out signals from the pier head, and when Adams observed that the pier head was coming into the zone of the enemy shell fire, he told the Amazon signal staff to order the man off the pier. In vain they signalled to this effect, the signalman stuck to his pier-head, flashing to seaward, semaphoring to shoreward, oblivious of the dangers which were besetting him, but jumping round like a monkey in a red hot cage. Adams through his telescope saw that whole sections of the pier were being shot away, and to emphasize the necessity of making the signalman withdraw, he shouted in a voice that could be heard above the boom and crash of the guns, " Tell that blooming CASABIANCA to go to Hell out of it NOW."

Reverting to the Excellent (Commander Saurin) and Bustard (Lieut. McGuire), whatever damage they did I never heard, but one couldn't help admiring them for their untiring efforts and their plucky obstinacy. They took hours to get into position and, once within range of the enemy's guns, they stopped there until their ammunition was gone or the day was spent, and then plugged stolidly away homeward to their anchorage for another load of shell. Their crews would work all night to avoid missing any fun and, in the early morning, these two toy ships would be the first to weigh, by hours; but in spite of their five knots maximum speed, they were never adrift from their places when bombardments again commenced.

We in the destroyers patrolled the Belgian coast at night and, closing into the shore, had a splendid view of the burning houses and bursting projectiles as the two opposing armies made battle in the night. It was all unutterably weird and sad to watch the devastation of the Flanders seaside health resorts.

Personally I shall never forget the red flashes of the exploding shells and the uncanny flames that burnt in the houses and showed through the shattered windows of the Belgian Villas at Westende, Middelkerke and other villages. Ostend did not suffer much, the Germans had advanced too quickly and the Allies never shelled or bombed this town intentionally, although it was always full of Germans once they had taken possession.

It was, for most of us, the first real war we had faced, although a fair number of officers and men had taken part in the small African wars. Admiral Hood, in particular had had his share in the Soudan and Somaliland.

During the latter part of October, the Germans brought up some 8-inch naval guns, which made things very unpleasant for us. On October 28th, 19 14, Hubert Wauton was killed. He was the first Sixth Flotilla destroyer captain to lose his life in the war. His ship was struck by an 8-inch shell, which accounted for twenty-four of his sixty men.

Wauton'c destroyer was the Falcon, an obsolete ship of 375 tons. She was taken out of action by the sub-lieutenant, Du Boulay, her second in command. She fired back with her puny armament of one 12-pounder and five 6-pounder guns, until the shots no longer reached the shore. The Falcon was at the time patrolling the N.E. channnel off Ostend, close to the Stroom Bank.

Commander Williams, in the Syren, stood over to assist the Falcon and we, in the Mohawk, made over in her direction at full speed, but suddenly the Syren ran ashore on one of the shallow banks. It was useless to stand on after her with our greater draught. With a sigh of relief I saw the Falcon get clear of the shells that were falling into the sea west of the Stroom Bank, the Syren throw up a great wave with her propellers working in shallow water and she came off the bank unhurt by the enemy, though her propellers were badly bent.

The general routine of the bombarding flotilla was to get into position at dawn and carry out the " plastering " of the positions indicated as thoroughly as possible. When the sun set and the light faded, the bombarding flotilla withdrew to Dunkirk Roads, while some of the ever watchful destroyers cruised to the eastward during the dark hours to protect the gunboats and monitors from a surprise attack.

Admiral Hood used to meet at the "Chapeau Rouge" Hotel the captains and gunnery officers of the ill-assorted squadron to discuss with the military Headquarters Staff the results of the day's shooting and arrange the plan for the morrow. I may say that I think we all enjoyed this business immensely. The youthful, quickbrained Admiral, with his cheery smile and perfectly delightful mannner, won our hearts completely.

We had it very much our own way to begin with, and then the greatest danger to the firing ships was that of runnning ashore, for they were very close in. But as time progressed and the Germans advanced, our little force was out-ranged and out-matched. The enemy were practically in Nieuport by November, and there is no doubt they intended to keep the coast. Heavy guns were brought up and mounted and the work of construction was taken in hand with German military thoroughness. Admiral Hood added the old Revenge to his off-shore squadron. She had four 13.5-inch 67-ton guns and ten old pattern 6-inch. It was very hard to find out what effective damage we did, for spotting arrangements were not so elaborate and accurate then as they became in the latter half of the war. The Revenge " got it in the neck " once or twice, but she couldn't have been sunk easily for there is no great depth of water in the West Deep, from which channel she was operated. Captain Hughes-Onslow, R.N., commanded the Revenge, and he rode the old iron war-horse into action like a Paladin.

This vessel has had her name changed to the Redoubtable, to make way for the new Revenge with her armament of eight 15-inch guns.

The Venerable (Captain V. H. G. Bernard), a rather less obsolete battleship, was also employed for some time bombarding on this coast. I had the honour of sounding out and marking a channel for her work through the Zuidcoote pass into the West Deep. The Venerable, I believe, escaped any punishment, although she fired many 12-inch shells at the Huns from Nieuport Roads.

The Mohawk was attached to the Venerable for a while, and it was a sad day for us when she was withdrawn and we were sent back to take up our proper work of monotonous patrol.

It was late in 19 14 that Dunkirk became a semi- English naval base. Various wings of the Royal Naval Air Service settled their headquarters in the vicinity of this fort. It was here that I met Commander Sampson, although I made my bow to this distinguished flying man under somewhat undignified circumstances. To be honest, I had been up for a joy ride, and as we landed at the Camp of No. IV. Wing we came rather heavily to earth and broke a strut or two. My hat was knocked off and I blushed at meeting the Boss, for I had no excuse for joy riding.

However, he said nothing about that and when my friend and pilot apologised for bringing me down such a smack, I smiled, and innocently said, " Isn't that the ordinary way of landing? " The flying men looked at me rather suspiciously and then took me into their hut and gave me a capital lunch.

War had come upon us so suddenly that the Air Force organisation was by no means perfect. The airmen would fight and bomb with refreshing zeal, but were not then such advanced and scientific observers as they later on became. But it was at Dunkirk that we Dover birds really got together with the R.N.A.S. and learned to know them and to appreciate what enormous possibilities there were in flying, and in flying men's assistance in various naval work. They were never idle, these men; if the weather was unfit for flying and there was nothing they could invent better than to annoy the enemy, One, who shall be nameless, would finish his glass of port and say, " Come on, you fellows, let's go and shoot Uhlans," and away would roll the great drab coloured motor-car. It went everywhere, and seldom returned without a

German helmet or two, which had scarcely cooled off the warmth derived from the late lamented owner.

Many Belgian refugees flocked into Dunkirk and were taken on board the steamers sent there to transport them to our own shores. The procession of this sort was a sad one, and it left an impression on one's memory not easy to efface. The wistful looking children, the bent old men, the indignant womenfolk of all ages; each one bearing some part of the family property — as much as could be carried away; the rickety carts overloaded with "household goods" from cottage, shop and villa; wheelbarrows, handcarts, perambulators and trucks ; anything in fact that could be utilised — all stacked with goods, pathetically overladen.

Sailors are funny characters, but for real spontaneous generosity, give me the " British Blue." It happened like an explosion; one evening, a pitiful, hungry line of dejected human beings came past the Mohawk; someone handed a cake to a little wild-eyed child; you might have put a match to a train of gunpowder — the " Mohawks " dashed on to the messdeck and in a matter of seconds we hadn't a vestige of eatable food on board — stokers with jampots, men with sardines, stewards with oranges, apples and biscuits — I watched, for I had nothing to give. Our youthful steward had cleared the wardroom.

I often think of those Belgian refugees, of their softeyed, grateful looks, and as often of the tough crowd I commanded in the Mohawk. Perhaps the toughness was only skin-deep after all.

CHAPTER III The Winter of 1914-1915

In the winter of 19 14-15, the submarine campaign began, and the destroyers of the Sixth Flotilla were hard put to it. To my mind, this first winter took more out of the destroyer crews than anything we subsequently faced. The light cruisers had patrolled as a support for the destroyers to fall back upon if overwhelmed, but on the morning of October 31st, 19 14, the aircraft carrier Hermes (formerly a second-class cruiser) was sunk by an enemy submarine near the outer Ruytingen Shoal, and orders came down from the Admiralty that no vessel except a destroyer, or a scout at full speed was to cross the channel during daylight hours. The fat was in the fire, the patrolling cruisers were withdrawn, and the destroyers had to be organised to patrol the areas which had been formerly watched over by the four light cruisers or scouts of the Attentive class; it meant more patrolling than ever.