A Sub. of the R.N.R.: A Story of the Great War

by Percy F. Westerman

He gave the order. Between the pounding of the heavy mass of forged steel, for the anchor weighed more than a ton, could be heard the blows of the mauls as the two seamen knocked out the pin of the shackle. Then, after the whirr of the chain through the hawse-pipe, the noise ceased. Terence knew that the anchor had plunged to the bottom of the Atlantic.

A babel of shouting came from the forepeak. The Norwegian seamen were clambering to be let out. There was no need for Terence to ask why: the damage was already done, for the "bills" of the anchor had penetrated the hull below the water-line.

The sense of danger had overcome their resolution to remain passive. They had attempted to plug the hole with hammocks, but the inrush of water was too great. Already the forepeak was flooded to a depth of three feet.

Shouting orders to the engine-room for the bilge and condenser pumps to be brought into action, Terence bade the quartermaster turn the ship head to wind. Even as the "Roldal" swung round, a terrific sea slapped her quarter and wrenched away the rudder brackets. The strain upon the insufficiently supported rudder resulted in the carrying away of the sole means of steering, for being a single screw vessel it was not possible to control her by means of the propeller.

Her only chance lay in forging ahead and trusting to luck that she did not fall off and wallow in the trough of the mountainous seas.

Mechanically the quartermaster stood by the steam steering-gear. Years of implicit trusting to a vessel to answer to her helm had left such an impression upon the seaman that he could not realize that the sole means of keeping the vessel on her course was denied him.

The "Roldal" was slowly turning to starboard. At one moment her stern would be deep in the waves, at another it would be high in the air, accompanied by a nerve-racking jar as the propeller, lifted from its natural element, raced wildly. Then, swish! A cascade of surging green water would sweep across the deck and pour in a smother of white foam to leeward.

Another appalling crash aft caused Terence to turn his head. To his dismay he saw that one of the fore mainmast derricks, which had been triced up and housed in a perpendicular position, had broken adrift. Like a gigantic flail it swept from side to side, clearing rails and deck-fittings as easily as if they were made of matchwood.

For a few seconds the heavy spars would bring up against the foremast iron wire shrouds supporting the mainmast, then, with the roll of the vessel, it would fly against the corresponding one on the other side, making the stay sing like a gigantic harp-string. A few minutes of that sort of game, Terence knew, would result in the carrying away of the shrouds and the loss of the mainmast.

The lieutenant motioned to some of the men: his own crew and a few of the Norwegians were sheltering under the lee of one of the intact deck-houses. At all costs the erratic derrick must be secured.