Under the new scheme just mentioned these four Q-ships were so worked that they always arrived and sailed from Gibraltar as part of the convoy of merchant ships, from which class they could not be distinguished. But already long before this date Q-ships had been employed in such distant waters. For instance, in the middle of November, 1916, the Barranca (Lieut.-Commander S. C. Douglas, R.N.) was sent from Queenstown via Devonport, and proceeded to operate in the neighbourhood of Madeira and the Canaries, based on Gibraltar. This ship, known officially as Q 3 (alias Echunga), had been taken over from Messrs. Elders and Fyffes, Ltd. Her registered tonnage was 4,115, and she had a speed of 14 knots, so she was eminently fitted for this kind of work. She had been employed as a Q-ship since June, 1916, and was armed with a 4-inch, two 12-pounders, and two 6-pounders, and terminated her service in the following May. Her captain had been one of the earliest officers to be employed in decoy work, having been second in command to Lieut.-Commander Godfrey Herbert when that officer commanded the Antwerp. Soon after this date the Q-ship Dunclutha left for that part of the Atlantic which is between the north-east coast of South America and north-west coast of Africa. This ship, together with Ooma, both of them being vessels of between 3,000 and 4,000 tons, had commenced their special service at the end of 1916 and been sent to work under the British Commodore off the east coast of South America in the hope of falling in with one of the German raiders, such as the Moewe. In May, 1918, both these vessels had to be withdrawn from such service, as the shortage of tonnage had become acute, and were required to load general cargo in a Brazilian port. Another of these overseas Q-ships was the Bombala (alias Willow Branch). She was a 3,314-ton steamer and had left Gibraltar on April 18, 1918, for Sierra Leone. A week later, off the West African coast, she sighted a submarine off the port quarter, and a few minutes later a second one off the starboard bow. Both submarines opened their attack with shells, this class of submarine being armed with a couple of 5·9-inch guns. After about thirty rounds the enemy had found the range, and then began to hit the ship repeatedly, carrying away the wireless and causing many casualties. Bombala shortened the range so that she could use her 4-inch and 14-pounder, and the action went on for two and a half hours. By that time Bombala was done for, and it was impossible to save the ship; so the crew were ordered into the boats, and then the ship foundered, bows first. However, the Q-ship had not sunk without severely damaging the enemy, for when the submarines came alongside Bombala’s boats it was found that in one of the submarines there were seven killed and four wounded.
Q-ships were kept pretty busy, too, in the Mediterranean. On March 11, 1917, when Wonganella (Lieut.-Commander B. J. D. Guy, R.N.) was on her way from Malta to England via Gibraltar, she was shelled by a submarine, and while the ‘panic’ party were getting out the boats, a shell wounded the officer and several of the crew in the starboard lifeboat. Another shell went through the bulwarks of the ship, wounding some men and bursting the steam-pipe of the winch, thus rendering unworkable the derrick used for hoisting out the third boat, and the port lifeboat was also damaged. Shells burst in the well deck and holed the big boat, so in this case, as all his boats were ‘done in,’ the captain had to give up the idea of ‘abandoning’ ship. There was nothing for it but to open fire, though it was not easy for orders to be heard in that indescribable din when shells were bursting, steam pouring out from the burst winch-pipe, wounded men in great pain, and Wonganella’s own boiler-steam blowing off with its annoying roar. As soon as fire was opened, the submarine dived and then fired a torpedo, which was avoided by Wonganella going astern with her engines, the torpedo just missing the ship’s fore-foot by 10 feet. No more was seen of the enemy, and at dusk the armed steam yacht Iolanda was met, from whom a doctor was obtained, thus saving the lives of several of the wounded. In this engagement, whilst the White Ensign was being hoisted, the signal halyards were shot away, so the ensign had to be carried up the rigging and secured thereto.
Wonganella was holed on the water-line and hit elsewhere, but she put into Gibraltar on March 13, and on the evening of June 19 of the same year we find her out in the Atlantic west of the south-west Irish coast on her way homeward-bound from Halifax. A submarine bore down on her from the north, and at the long range of 8,000 yards was soon straddling Wonganella. Now the Q-ship happened to have on board thirty survivors from a steamer recently sunk, so again it was impossible to attempt the ‘abandon ship’ deception. She therefore used her smoke-screen—at this time ships were being supplied with special smoke-making apparatus—and then ran down the wind at varying speeds and on various courses, with the hope that the enemy would chase quickly. Wonganella would then turn in the smoke-cloud and suddenly emerge and close the enemy at a more suitable range. But the best-laid schemes of Q-ships are subject to the laws of chance, for now there appeared another merchant ship heading straight towards this scene, and thus unwittingly frustrated the further development of the encounter. This ‘merchant ship’ was the Q-ship Aubrietia (Q 13), who did, in fact, receive a signal from Wonganella that no assistance was required; but by that time it was too late to withdraw. The submarine, after shelling Wonganella through the smoke, abandoned the attack and withdrew without ever scoring a hit.
During all these months the disguised steam trawlers were continuing their arduous work. On August 20, 1916, the Gunner from Granton engaged a submarine during the afternoon, but the German subsequently dived. Gunner then proceeded on a westerly course whilst she altered her disguise, and then that same evening encountered this submarine again, shelled her, but once more the enemy broke off the fight. The disguised Granton trawler Speedwell was also operating in a manner similar to Gunner, and in the following March the trawler Commissioner began her decoy work. She was a 161-ton ship armed with a 12-pounder, her method of working being as follows: Lieutenant F. W. Charles, R.N.R., was in command of the fighting portion of the crew, but her fishing skipper was otherwise in charge of the ship. Commissioner proceeded to join the Granton fishing fleet, looking like any other steam trawler, and then shot her trawl and carried on like the rest of the fleet. When a submarine should appear Commissioner would cut away her fishing gear and then attack the enemy. Such an occasion actually occurred the very day after she first joined the fishing fleet, but the submarine was not sunk.
A similar decoy was the Granton steam trawler Rosskeen, which left the Firth of Forth to ‘fish’ about 20 miles east of the Longstone. Three days later she was just about to shoot her trawl when a shot came whistling over her wheelhouse, and a large submarine was then seen 8,000 yards away. After twenty minutes, during which the enemy’s shells fell uncomfortably close, Rosskeen cut away her gear and ‘abandoned’ ship. The submarine then obligingly approached on the surface towards the rowing boat, and when the range was down to 1,200 yards Rosskeen, who was armed with a 12-pounder and 6-pounder, opened fire from the former and hit the submarine, the conning-tower being very badly damaged by the third shot. Two more shells got home, and by this time the enemy had had enough, and dived.
These trawlers were undoubtedly both a valuable protection to the fishermen (who had been repeatedly attacked by the enemy) and a subtle trap for some of the less experienced submarine captains. During May two more trawlers, the Strathallan and Strathearn, were similarly commissioned, and even steam drifters such as the Fort George (armed with one 6-pounder) were employed in this kind of work. On the thirteenth of June Strathearn was fishing 19 miles east of the Bell Rock when five shots were fired at her, presumably by a submarine, though owing to the hazy weather nothing could be seen. The enemy then evidently sighted a destroyer and disappeared. On the following day Fort George was fishing about 35 miles east of May Island, when she was attacked by submarine at 2,000 yards. It was ten o’clock at night, and the drifter, after the third round, secured her fishing gear and returned the fire. The enemy was evidently surprised, for after the drifter had fired three shells the German broke off the engagement and submerged, but with his fourth and fifth rounds he had hit Fort George, killing two and wounding another couple.
But on the following twenty-eighth of January Fort George was about 14 miles east of May Island, with the decoy trawler W. S. Bailey (Lieutenant C. H. Hudson, D.S.C., R.N.R.). The two ships were listening on their hydrophones when a submarine was distinctly heard some distance away, and it was assumed that the enemy was steering for May Island, so the W. S. Bailey after proceeding for a quarter of an hour in that direction listened again, and the sounds were heard more plainly. For an hour and a half the enemy was determinedly hunted, and just after 9 p.m. the sounds became very distinct, so the trawler steamed full speed ahead in the submarine’s direction, dropped a depth charge, listened, and then, as the enemy was still heard on the hydrophone, a second charge was dropped. The trawler then went full speed astern to check her way, and just as she was stopping there were sighted two periscopes not 20 yards away, on the starboard quarter, and going full speed. The trawler then dropped a third depth charge over the spot where the periscopes had disappeared, and nothing further was heard on the hydrophone, but a fourth charge was then let go to make sure, and the position was buoyed, and the disguised craft remained in the vicinity until January 30. A few days later the W. S. Bailey swept with her chain-sweep over the position, and on each occasion the sweep brought up in the place that had been buoyed, and a quantity of oil was seen. Local fishermen accustomed to working their gear along this bottom reported that the obstruction was quite new. In short, the W. S. Bailey had succeeded in destroying UB 63, a submarine about 180 feet long and well armed with a 4·1-inch gun and torpedoes. For this useful service Lieutenant Hudson received a bar to his D.S.C., while Skipper J. H. Lawrence, R.N.R., was awarded the D.S.C.
Thus, in all waters and in all manner of ships wearing every kind of disguise, the shy submarine was being tempted and sought out, though every month decoy work was becoming more and more difficult: for though you might fool the whole German submarine service in the early stages of Q-ships, it was impossible that you could keep on bluffing all of them every time. The most that could be expected was that as a reward for your constant vigilance and perfect organization you might one day catch him off his guard through his foolishness or lack of experience or incautiousness. But every indecisive action made it worse for the Q-ships, for that vessel was a mark for future attack and the enemy’s intelligence department was thereby enriched, and outgoing submarines could be warned against such a trawler or such a tramp whose guns had a dead sector on such a bearing. Thus an inefficient Q-ship captain would be a danger not merely to himself and his men, but to the rest of the force. Nothing succeeds like success, and there was nothing so useful as to make a clean job of the submarine-sinking, so that he could never get back home and tell the news. Surprise, whether in real life or fiction, is a factor that begins to lose its power in proportion to its frequency of use. It was so in the Q-ships, and that is why, after a certain point had been reached, this novel method became so difficult and so barren in results.