Q-Ships and Their Story

by E. Keble Chatterton

After she had sunk finally a large burst of air and oil-fuel rose to the surface, the submarine’s bulkheads having apparently burst owing to the pressure due to the deep water, which here was 75 fathoms. Only Crompton and the helmsman were saved, the former having been badly wounded whilst entering the conning-tower. All the others, consisting of five officers and twenty-five men, were lost. In the meantime Urbino had sunk, too, from her shell-holes, and Baralong picked the whole crew up from their boats to the number of forty-two officers and men, her master, Captain Allanson Hick, stating that his ship was on her way from New York to Hull. Baralong, conscious of having obtained another brilliant and brave victory, now proceeded with her survivors to Falmouth, where she arrived in the early hours of the following morning. Lieut.-Commander Wilmot-Smith was awarded the D.S.O., and Temporary Engineer J. M. Dowie, R.N.R., received a D.S.C., a well-deserved decoration; for much depended on the engineers in these ships, and they had much to suffer. Two of the crew received a D.S.M. each, and the sum of £1,000 was also awarded, this being additional to the bounty subsequently awarded in the Prize Court.

At this stage in the world’s history there is no intention of exulting in the discomfiture and pain of the enemy. Day after day during this period the writer used to see the sad sight of our survivors without ship or belongings other than the clothes on their backs. It is difficult altogether to forget these incidents or the unchivalrous behaviour of the enemy. Without wishing to be vindictive, it is well to place on record that the nineteen German sailors on the deck of U 41 all jeered at Captain Hick in his distress, and yet although a callous enemy had been sunk in a fair fight, this second Baralong incident aroused in Germany a wave of horrified indignation akin to the decoy’s former exploit. The German Press referred to the sinking of U 41 as a murderous act, but if this were so there were to be plenty more to follow. Happily, at last, we had found a real, effective means of grappling with the submarine problem. Against us were contending the finest brains of the German Navy, and these determined officers were not over anxious to save life, as we knew from their behaviour at the sinking of Falaba and Lusitania. Such craft as U 41, over 200 feet long, with a maximum surface speed of 14 knots, but an endurance of 5,500 miles at 10 knots, armed with a couple of guns and eight torpedoes, were formidable foes, and any clever stratagem that could be used against them, without infringing International Law, was surely entirely justified. Thus, very wisely, four colliers were fitted out that same autumn as Q-ships, these being the Thornhill (alias Werribee, Wellholme, and Wonganella); the Remembrance (alias Lammeroo); Bradford City (alias Saros); and the Penhallow (alias Century). These, together with Baralong, were sent to operate in the Mediterranean, for here the submarine campaign became very serious just at the time when it temporarily died down in North European waters. Diplomatic relations between Germany and the United States, consequent on the sinking of the Lusitania and then Arabic, were becoming strained, so that Germany had to accept the American demands for the limitation of submarine activity. The result was that from September 24, 1915, up to December 20, 1915, no ships were sunk by German submarines in North European waters, though the Mediterranean had a different story to tell. At the end of December a short, sharp submarine campaign was carried out off Ireland by U-boats, and then there was quiet again until Germany began her extended submarine campaign on March 1, 1916. This in turn lasted only to May 8, and was not resumed until July 5, 1916.

It is as well to bear these periods in mind, for otherwise we cannot appreciate the dull, monotonous weeks and months of cruising spent by the Q-ships when they saw no submarine, received nothing but vague, inaccurate reports, and had to keep their crews from getting disappointed or eventually wondering whether they were really doing any good in this particular service. But as the winter passed and the U-boats displayed their usual spring activity, the Q-ships had their opportunities again. Before we come to see these, let us take a glance at the work which they were performing during the winter in the Mediterranean, where the enemy sought to cut our lines of communication to the Dardanelles.

In December, 1915, the steamship Margit had been fitted out as a decoy, and on January 17, 1916, in Lat. 35.34 N., Long. 17.38 E., she was steering west for Malta, when she received S.O.S. signals on her wireless. The time was 9.30 a.m., and presently shots were seen falling close to the S.S. Baron Napier, who was about five miles to the southward. The captain of the Margit was Lieut.-Commander G. L. Hodson, R.N., who then hoisted the Dutch ensign and altered course towards the Baron Napier. The latter kept making signals that she was being shelled and that the submarine was approaching; but when Margit got within a couple of miles the submarine transferred the shelling to her. Margit’s captain conned his ship, lying prone on the bridge and peering through the chinks in the bridge screen. In order to lure the enemy on he pretended to abandon ship, hoisted the international signal ‘I am stopped,’ and sent away the ship’s lifeboat with Sub-Lieutenant McClure, R.N.R., in charge. The ship now had every appearance of having been abandoned, but in addition to the captain lying unseen on the bridge, the guns’ crews, under Lieutenant Tweedie, R.N.R., and a sub-lieutenant, were remaining hidden at their stations. Riflemen were similarly placed on the foredeck and aft.

Fig. 3.—Diagram to Illustrate Approximate Movements of ‘Margit’ in her Engagement with Submarine on January 17, 1916.

After the ‘panic party’ had been sent away in the boat the enemy seemed fairly satisfied, ceased shelling, dived, and then reappeared a quarter of an hour later 800 yards away, with a couple of feet of his periscope showing. He was now going to make quite sure this was no trap, so, still submerged, he came within 50 yards of Margit’s port side and then right round the ship, scrutinizing her carefully. At length, being apparently quite convinced that all was well, he steered for Margit’s boat about a thousand yards away and came to the surface. Three men then appeared on the submarine’s deck, the German ensign was hoisted, and one of them waved Margit’s boat to come alongside. This was as far as Lieut.-Commander Hodson deemed it advisable to let matters go. Giving the orders to down screens, open fire, and hoist the White Ensign, the enemy now came under attack. One shot seemed to hit abaft the conning-tower, and the submarine submerged. so fire was ceased and Margit proceeded to pick up her boat. The davit-falls had only just been hooked on when the submarine showed her conning-tower 70 yards off, apparently in difficulties. The Q-ship therefore opened fire once more, but the enemy again submerged. Unfortunately the submarine had not been sunk, although no effort had been neglected. From 9.30 a.m. to about midday officers and crew had been compelled to keep in cramped, tiring attitudes, with very little knowledge of what was going on; and after he had finally disappeared Margit had remained for about three hours in the hope that he might return. By a curious coincidence, at the time when Baron Napier was being attacked, another steamer, the Baron Ardrossan, belonging to the same owners, happened to be passing and saw the shells dropping around, but as she could steam nothing better than 3 knots slower than Baron Napier she could not go to her assistance. However, if the submarine had not been destroyed, Margit had saved the Baron Napier and caused the enemy to break off the engagement.

Mention was made just now of the Werribee (alias Wonganella, etc.). On February 3, 1916, this ship, which had been fitted out at Gibraltar, under the command of Lieut.-Commander B. J. D. Guy, R.N., left Port Said to cruise on the Malta to Egypt trade route. She was a steamer of 3,848 tons, and had taken in 2,600 tons of sand as ballast. About 9 o’clock on the morning of February 9, Werribee was steaming along when she picked up a signal on her wireless to the effect that the S.S. Springwell, of 5,593 tons, was torpedoed and sinking by the head. The vessel was soon sighted, and the last boats could be seen already leaving the ship, the position being about sixty miles from Crete. The weather was perfect, with a flat, calm sea and extreme visibility—an ideal day, in fact, for good gunnery.

But it was to be a most difficult experience, and the incident well illustrates the problems which had to be dealt with. About 10.15 a.m., as no submarine could be seen, Werribee turned towards the four boats already in the water, and hailed them for information, then examined the condition of Springwell, and presently turned again. All of a sudden, a great submarine, painted like the Mediterranean pirate-ships of ancient times, a brownish green, emerged from the sea about 5,000 yards away on Werribee’s starboard bow, and came close up to Springwell, possibly to prevent Werribee from salving her. Alarm stations were sounded in the Q-ship, but the submarine’s men were already running to their two guns, and opened fire. Werribee then decided to haul round and pretend to run away. The third shot from the enemy hit, and it was at first feared that the explosion had disabled one gun’s crew, but fortunately the hit was a little further aft. It was immediately evident to Werribee’s captain that to-day the enemy was not going to allow him to play the abandon-ship game, but was intending to sink him straight away. The submarine’s accurate and rapid fire was clearly aimed at Werribee’s boats, and two of them were soon riddled. It was for Lieut.-Commander Guy to make up his mind quickly what tactics now to pursue, and he decided to reveal the ship’s true character and open fire. This was done, and within ten seconds his 4-inch quick-firer was in action, range 4,000 yards. After six rounds from the Q-ship the enemy ceased firing, and the eighth seemed to hit abaft the conning-tower. Then she submerged in a cloud of smoke, about 11.10 a.m., this smoke screen being a favourite ruse for escaping, and she was never seen again that day. Werribee now turned her attention to the torpedoed ship, but the latter was too far gone, and foundered at 5.45 that afternoon. The men in Springwell’s boats were then picked up, and about 6 o’clock the ship made for Malta. It was again sheer bad luck; a combination of difficult circumstances, and the tactics of an astute German captain, had now prevented success coming to the decoy. There was no question about her disguise, and the captain of a merchantman who witnessed the fight accurately spoke of Werribee as ‘an old tramp with a few patches of paint, firing at the submarine.’ Before the war we should have thought no ship in His Majesty’s Service could possibly merit such a description as this, but strange things were happening on the seas at this time, and it was the highest compliment so to be described.