Part 14

‘I pushed up the lower lid and climbed into the conning-tower, and as I held the flap I looked down on the little crowd of upturned faces. “Good luck, George,” said Belton, he always called me George, “and good-bye.”

‘Then I closed the lid and stood there in the narrow space with only the upper hatch between me and 40 feet of water. I don’t quite know how I felt, but I felt afraid, and I waited a minute before I opened the sea-inlet, and the water poured into the shaft. It was all dark, of course, and I had the feeling that now at least I had burnt my boats. The arrangement was that after I had gone up, and the upper lid had been closed again from the control room, they were to pump the shaft out and the next man up would open the lower lid and take my place, and they were to give me four minutes to do it.

‘The water rose up to my thighs, and in that narrow space I could feel the air compressing terribly on my ears and mouth, and I climbed up till my head was touching the upper lid. Up came the water again, up to my chest, and I waited with one hand on the releasing gear of the lid.

‘When it reached my chin I couldn’t stand it any longer and let the hatch fly. I don’t know what happened then, but the bubble of compressed air must have shot me clean up. I remember the feeling of pressure and dark water and bursting lungs, and then I was up in the glorious sunlight that I hadn’t expected to see again.

‘Somebody grabbed me by the collar (I was told afterwards it was the T.B.’s boat I was hauled into), and I just managed to tell them how it was with the poor devils below. Then I fainted and came to in hospital, and that’s all about it.’

He drew a long breath.

‘The others?’ I hinted.

‘Oh, the tramp stood by, and her name and so on was taken, but she wasn’t held to blame, as nothing could be proved. Belton was the only man who could have spoken, but, as you know, they didn’t get the boat up for days.’

‘But why was it some of the others couldn’t follow you up?’

‘Something must have gone wrong below. Either they couldn’t drain the conning-tower or else the gas got through to them. When they raised her they were all gassed, poor beggars, and I think the doors must have leaked quicker than we’d thought, and I just got up in time.’

‘You said something about a stoker being saved, didn’t you?’

‘That was Howell, who was shut up in the engine-room. It’s an interesting story how he got out. He’s in Haslar Hospital now, if you’d like to go and see him.’

I said I should like to very much.

‘Then I’ll give you this,’ and Allison wrote something on the back of a card, ‘otherwise he may suspect you and tell you nothing.’

‘I’ll go,’ I said, taking the card. ‘His story ought to be rather illuminating.’

‘It will be, I expect. You mustn’t mind his language, though. He’s rather a hard nut.’

‘Don’t think I shall. I’m used to that sort of thing after ten years close acquaintanceship with the Navy.’

Allison laughed.

‘And are you,’ I suggested, ‘really going to stop in submarines after an experience like that?’

‘Why not?’ he laughed again. ‘Because I’m unlucky once it doesn’t follow that I will be again.’

‘And the stoker?’

‘He’s coming back with me as a leading hand. That is if he behaves himself,’ and he glanced at the card in my hand.

‘But when it was all over and you were in the hospital, how did you feel?’

‘I felt a bit bad at first, and then I thought of the rest of them down there, and I felt as if I wanted a drink. The sister wouldn’t let me have one, though, and we had a proper blarney,’ and he broke off into some long story of the hospital.

I saw that it was no more use and that the golden hour was passed. It was no good pressing it, and I was thankful to have gleaned so much.

By-and-by he began to talk about his new boat again.

‘In another month she ought to be ready for trials,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘Hope you’ll come and see how she behaves.’

‘I’d like to, but how about you? How will you feel the first time you go down again?’

My host grinned.

‘Can’t say, I’m sure, but if you come, and mind you’ve got to, I’ll let you know at the time, that is if you remind me, and I’m not too busy with contractors’ people and dockyard officials and so on, which I expect I shall be. Some of those dockyard people are blighters, you can’t get half you want out of them.’

‘I’ve noticed that,’ I answered. ‘Engineer-Commanders are hard drivers of bargains sometimes.’

‘Hard drivers! Why I could tell you stories; but no, there isn’t time. I’ve got a long day’s work to-morrow, so I’ll turn in early. See you before you leave?’

He rose to go.

‘One moment,’ I said, ‘before bed, may I read what you’ve written on this card?’

‘Good Heavens, yes,’ he laughed. ‘Good-night.’

On the card in my friend’s neat handwriting were the words: ‘Tell him how you wrenched off the manhole door or you won’t come back in _my_ boat.’

Such is the personal equation of the Naval Officer.

* * * * *

‘He’s in Ward 6,’ the sister told me. ‘Yes, this is visitors’ hour, you’re not breaking the rules,’ and we smiled at each other as she led the way up the cool stone staircase.

I found him sitting in an arm-chair, a young man wrapped in a blanket of some sort, but haggard, and, it may have been my imagination, rather gray for his age.

He eyed me suspiciously, and I handed him the magic card.

‘That’s Mr Hellison,’ he said, grinning broadly; ‘’e always was one for a joke like.’

I sat down and asked him how he was.

‘Not so ruddy,’ he answered, ‘but it give me a fair turn, it did.’

‘And you’re stopping in submarines?’

‘All right, mate, I’ll earn it; I’ll carry out ’is orders, and don’t you fret. I’m goin’ back as a leadin’ ’and, I am.’

I said nothing.

‘It was a fair old show,’ he went on presently, ‘but I come through it all right by a bit o’ luck.’

I congratulated him on his safety.

‘I was on watch in the engine-room, doin’ a job of cleanin’, when it ’appened,’ he continued, ‘and the E.R.A ’ad just gone for’ard for suthing when the bump came. A proper old clang it was, and I ’eard the water simply passing in, in a way o’ speakin’. Then the captain, ’e sung out for the ’ands to muster in the control room, but the lights went out just then, and afore I could get out of the engine-room some one banged the watertight door to, and, as it ’appened, that’s wot saved my life.’

I nodded my interest in his story.

‘We was ’oled in the after compartment as well as for’ard, you see, and them bangin’ that door cut me off from the control room but kept out the water that flooded in between the rest of the bunch and me in the engine-room. I ’eard it risin’ after we ’it the bottom, and the boat took on a bit of a cant.

‘Then I began to get in rather a sweat, as I knew that if I was goin’ to be saved I got to save myself. I come over all funny like at first down there in the dark, and then I ’ad an idea and started right on to work it.

‘First I got ’old of a shifting spanner and fell to work on the man’ole of the No. 4 main ballast tank. That’s under the engine-room, you know, and when I’d got it off the water flopped in a bit owin’ to the shape of the tank.

‘After that I sat down and wondered whether it was worth it or if I could wait a bit and see if they was goin’ to lift the boat, but the waitin’ got on my nerves, and I thought I might as well see it through. So I opened up the No. 4 Kingston, and in come the water through the man’ole door what I’d took off. It rose mighty fast, too, and after it got over the Kingston wheel I knew it was neck or nothin’, as they say, ’cos I could never stop the water comin’ in again if I wanted to. So I climbed up the ladder and ’ung on under the engine-room ’atch and watched the water risin’.

‘Of course the air compressed somethin’ cruel, and when I thought it was enough I shoved away the strong-back and tried to push the ’atch up. It only lifted an inch or so and come down again with a bang, lettin’ in a torrent of water that knocked me off o’ the ladder, and I was swimmin’ about in the engine-room for a bit before I got ’old of it again. The water was within two foot o’ the roof by then and bangin’ me up against it, so I thought ’ere goes, and I give the ’atch a push. Lumme, I don’t rightly know _wot_ ’appened then, but I went up like a cork out of a bubbly bottle, and never knew no more till I woke up one day in this ’ere ’ospital. Mr Hellison, ’e come down and see me, and I’m goin’ back with ’im, and that’s all there is to it.’

The narrator drew a long breath, and paused to watch the effect of his story.

‘Thanks,’ I said simply. There seemed nothing else to say.

He grinned broadly. ‘Wot do you think of it?’ he queried. ‘Sons of the sea and bloomin’ sky-blue ’eroes, wot?’

‘It must have been an awful experience,’ I ventured.

‘Don’t you believe it, mate; “a life on the ocean wave,” and honest Jack the sailor, that’s wot you think,’ and he chuckled at some obscure joke.

‘I tell you, though, I was scared, mind yer. Not at the time: I was too busy savin’ myself then, but afterwards, lyin’ ’ere in bed; wot with me bein’ weak and so on, I used to imagine I was down there in the dark again, and I used to dream about it and wake up in a sweat.’

‘And yet you’re stopping in submarines?’

‘You betcher. Did you ever, when you was a little ’un, think you saw somethin’ in the dark or feel that some one was be’ind you?’

I nodded.

‘Well, _I_ used to, and my mother she always told me, “Phil,” she used to say, “whenever you feels like that, turn round and touch wot’s scarin’ you, and when you feels nothin’ you’ll know it’s all right.” It’s just the same as that. I’ll go back, and once I’m in a boat again I’ll feel as right as a trivet, it’s the bein’ away and thinkin’ that does the damage.’

‘I think I see. You mean it’s the shadow that hurts, not the substance.’

‘You’ve got it, guvnor; that’s wot it is. But ’ere’s the sister comin’, so I guess you’ll ’ave to ’op it.’

‘Your time’s up,’ said the sister, smiling. ‘We can’t allow him to talk too much, and he will keep on talking.’

‘All right, sister, I’ll be a good boy,’ and the patient lay back with closed eyes and snored loudly.

‘Good-bye,’ I said, ‘and thanks so much for what you’ve told me. Anything you’d like: cigarettes and so on?’

‘No, thanks, guvnor, I’m all right,’ said the sleeper, coming suddenly to life; ‘but if you’re seein’ Mr Hellison, give ’im my respects and say I’m ’opin’ to be with ’im before long.’

I promised that I would.

‘Good-bye,’ I said again, ‘and best of luck and a quick recovery.’

The sister was waiting for me at the door, and beckoned impatiently.

As I left the ward I glanced once more towards the patient. He was apparently sound asleep and snoring his loudest, but as I turned away, one eye suddenly opened and closed again in the most unmistakable wink that was ever winked by man or sailor.

* * * * *

It wasn’t until some years afterwards that I heard the end of the story.

I only got wind of it by chance at a dinner party, after the women folk had left us and the port had been round for the second time. It was before the War, and not knowing that there were any Naval guests present I was talking to my neighbour about the Navy, and telling him what I knew of the ‘02’ fatality, when the gray-haired man opposite me broke in.

‘I think I can finish your story for you,’ he said.

‘Finish the story!’ I replied in surprise. ‘Do you know any more details then?’

‘I think I do,’ he said quietly. ‘You see, I was in the T.B. at the time of the accident. I was a captain then, and it was before I retired from the Service, and I went out to see what a periscope looked like, and to prove some of my own pet theories as to the uselessness of these new-fangled things called submarines.’

‘Do tell me,’ I pleaded. ‘I’ll be very quiet if you will.’

‘It’s not a pleasant tale, though. I don’t know if----’

But the other guests, who had heard my account of the survivors’ experiences, clamoured for the story, and the gray-haired man gave way.

‘I went out in the T.B. as a sight-seer, and watched the submarine dive through my glasses with the interest of a child with a new toy. It was the first time I’d seen a boat go under, and I remember wondering what it felt like to be down below. At the same time I noticed a tramp steamer, a Norwegian she was, coming down Channel across our track, and I recollected mentioning it to the captain of the Torpedo Boat.

‘We hoisted a red flag to indicate the danger and continued on our course, keeping a good look-out for the periscope meanwhile, and all the time the tramp kept getting closer and didn’t seem to worry about our warning signals. Then the periscope was spotted, and the next moment the tramp was between us and the submarine’s track. At the last minute the Norwegian seemed to have suddenly realised that something was wrong, and thinking the danger was to do with us, altered her course away from us.

‘Even so, something must have been amiss in the boat, or I think she would have gone clear, but the next moment we saw the wake of the periscope under the steamer’s counter, and then it disappeared for good. The Norwegian stopped in answer to our frantic signals, and we went alongside and hailed the master. He said that his engineers reported that the propeller had struck something, so we took his name and port of registry and got the wireless going.

‘Two T.B.s arrived in a short time with divers and other gear, and the tramp was taken into Portland for examination; but nothing was proved, and she was not held to blame. In those days the submarine signals weren’t generally known as they are now.

‘We’d marked and buoyed the spot where we last saw “02’s” periscope, and the divers were just getting ready for a preliminary survey when a man shot out of the water and right up in the air. He fell back with a plop, and we had a boat out and the body on board inside three minutes. It was Allison, the “Sub” of the boat, and he just managed to tell us how things were and what had happened before he fainted. Then the divers got to work, and we were waiting anxiously for news when another body appeared. It was one of the stokers, and he was in a bad condition with shock, and half drowned. We waited and waited, but nobody else came up, and it was not for days afterwards that the boat was raised, and they were all dead by then----’

The gray-haired man sighed and broke off.

‘I knew Allison,’ I said, breaking the silence that followed. ‘It was he who told me practically all I know about “02.”’

‘Did you?’ said the gray-haired man; ‘and I knew Belton: I knew him very well.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, ‘I hope I haven’t----’

‘Not at all,’ replied my informant. ‘But I think I knew him better than most people, because, you see, he was my son.’

* * * * *

I went home that night and I thought about it. Of Allison the cheery, and Howell the Cockney, and of that lonely old Admiral who’d seen his son die. I thought about it and I wondered. And the result was that I asked myself this question: ‘Why do these men do this, and what keeps them doing it?’ And then the answer came, and the answer is, that in spite of modern machinery, and modern scepticism, and modern commercialism, and all the money grubbing and scoffing of the twentieth century, there is still, thank God, a touch of the loyalty and ideal of honour and patriotism that nerved our fathers of the middle ages. In the ordinary walks of life it is met with but rarely, or if it does exist, it is denied and held to scorn by those who would rather strike in war-time than do an extra hour’s work, and hold self continually in the fore-ground and never cast a thought to State or Country.

And that loyalty and those ideals are always met with in the Navy and the Army, ay, and in the Merchant Service too--that Service who has found her worth and come into her own since this World War began.

And why should these ideals remain in our Services when they have so long left the ranks of civilian life? For the reason that the men of the Services are trained in the same old way and live up to the same ideals as their fathers of centuries ago; only a few of the details have been altered.

For on joining the colours, whether White Ensign or Red Ensign, or his regimental banner, the man whose father may be an agitator or a strike leader learns to forget himself and to work for his surroundings, for good work’s sake, and for the opinion of his superiors.

Thank God that it is so, and that there were those among us who came forward in 1914 and in 1915 without having to be cajoled and eventually forced to do what was our obvious and common duty.

May those who growl at the War and those who ask, as some have been asking, ‘What is the Navy doing?’ gather from these few pages a glimpse of the life of one small branch of the Service to which Britain owes her immunity. And if they are not silent afterwards, then will it be proof that the spirit of England is on the wane, and that her manhood is not what it was in the days of Trafalgar and of Waterloo.

May that day never come, and may Englishmen, ay, and Irishmen, too, when striving to do their duty look to the Navy and her sister Services for their guide-star and example.

AMEN.

Call it a judgment ye who will, Call it a scourge to punish Man; Name it a curse that Man must kill, And suffer God’s eternal ban. Call it a scourge, a blasting breath, Borne on the wings of pain and death.

So may it be and ye who think The Lord’s avenging hand is nigh, As ye draw near the Silent Brink, Pray to the Lord who reigns on high. All ye who use and fear the sword, Fall on thy knees and pray the Lord.

‘God! Grant the anguish and the blood, The corpses and the countless biers, The pain, the misery, the flood, Of broken hearts and mothers’ tears May wash away the damning stain, And cleanse from us the brand of Cain.

‘O God Almighty, Lord of All, Have mercy on Thy people’s stress; Hark to Thy people’s pleading call, Who look to Thee to guide and bless. Have mercy on us, we who live; And for our dead ... we pray, forgive.’

FOOTNOTES

[1] When in parallel the batteries are said to be ‘grouped down’; when in series they are ‘grouped up.’

[2] Leading Torpedo Man.

[3] Seaman Torpedo Man.

[4] Engine Room Artificer.

[5] Seamen.

[6] T.I. Torpedo Instructor.

[7] Periscope.

[8] Torpedo or Mine.

[9] Several submarines secured alongside each other to the depot ship.

[10] Periscope.

[11] Crossed anchor. The badge indicating the rating of Petty Officer.

[12] ‘Making’ a switch is switching on. ‘Breaking’ a switch is switching off.

[13] Mines.

[14] Naval Store Officer.

[15] The overhang of the stern.

[16] Senior Naval Officer.

[17] Ampères.

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