While British and German submarines were playing the risky game of scouring the seas, French submarines were not idle; and in the latter days of December, 1914, there was told the story of an adventure as thrilling as ever fictionist wove for the delight of his readers.
The number of the submarine was not given; neither was the name of the place where the incident took place. All that was told was that on a certain Saturday morning the submarine left port, and at three o’clock on the following morning had reached its objective—namely, an enemy port. Two miles out the boat dived, and going at the rate of about three miles an hour, made for the entrance of the port where the Frenchmen hoped to find some battleships which would provide good targets for their torpedoes. In due course they reached the entrance; it was guarded by a boom, on the other side of which were several battleships and destroyers.
Chagrined at the fact that the boom prevented them from firing at the warships, the French sailors hung about awhile in the hope that the enemy would perhaps issue forth. Meanwhile, the officer kept his eye upon the mirror, which through the periscope showed him what was going on, and which, incidentally, was a source of danger to the submarine; for the eye of the submarine, sticking up about eighteen inches above the surface, is easily seen in good light by the look-out of a battleship; and in time of war a very sharp watch is kept for these bobbing “eyes,” which betoken the presence of death-dealing boats. The Frenchmen knew their danger, but they had come out to do something, and refused to give up until they found it impossible to carry out their mission.
So they stayed there—waiting for something to happen.
Then it happened.
The man at the mirror saw the battleships and destroyers moving, and, giving the order to stand by, he waited until they passed within a short distance of the submarine. They were anxious moments for every man in her; they knew that at any minute some watcher on the enemy’s decks might detect them and heavy shells come hurtling towards them, perhaps to snap the periscope and turn the cigar-shaped craft into a blind, helpless thing, when, if she kept below, she might run foul of a ship’s bottom, and if she rose to the surface be at the mercy of the waiting foes. Into such moments is crowded the spice of war, and these gallant Frenchmen were quite prepared for it.
Luckily the foes passed by without noticing the lurking boat, and the officer, anxious to get within a distance which would enable him to take a more accurate aim, gave orders for the submarine to draw nearer to them. Stealthily she approached, every man in her at tension and at his post, ready for the time to come when they could launch their death-tube.
Suddenly the boat seemed to shiver, then to strain as a dog strains at the leash, then to shiver again; and there was a grinding noise. Then the boat came to a standstill, though her engines were still going.
Instantly the men sprang into action, seeking the cause of this unfortunate event. What had happened? they asked themselves. They soon knew. Investigation showed them that steel cables had caught the rudder of their boat and held her prisoner. Apparently this was a method adopted by the enemy to trap them, for the cables drew them upwards—ever upwards, till they were close to the surface, and at the same time torpedoes came swishing through the water towards them. Time after time these death-tubes sped at them, to miss them by merest fractions of inches, it seemed. Simultaneously shells fell thick and fast around them, sending the water up in great spouts. It was literally an inferno, from which the Frenchmen realised that there was little chance of escape. But what chance there was they took.
Boxed up in their little citadel they waited for death—waited for the crash that would tell them a shell had found its target; waited for the explosion which would end the suspense and bring the death that was so slow in coming. This waiting in helplessness was far worse than taking the chances of death in an encounter with the foe when they were free to fight manfully against them.