The Corsair in the war zone

by Ralph Delahaye Paine

Asking permission of the patrol next morning to proceed up the Thames to Gravesend, the Corsair learned that her destination had been changed to Sheerness. Here she met with a disappointment. The cruiser Chester arrived unexpectedly and was selected as the flagship of Rear Admiral Robison, as was quite proper. It’s an ill wind that blows nobody good, however, and just after starting north for Rosyth and the Grand Fleet, the Chester was compelled to return with machinery disabled. The Corsair was ordered to proceed to Scotland in place of the cruiser and she left the Thames on November 30th to steam up into the gray North Sea, and the great war base near Edinburgh.

It was fondly believed on board that the yacht would be employed to take the American admiral across to visit the German naval ports, but they found him in the British battleship Hercules with the other admirals of the Allied naval commission, and they all sailed next day in this big ship for Kiel. This was rather hard medicine for the Corsair, to be disappointed again after singing for so long in hearty chorus that on the Kiel Canal they’d float and likewise knock the hell out of Heligoland, and now they were deprived of a sight of these notorious nests of the enemy’s warships.

It was something to remember, however, this visit to the North Sea and a sojourn with the grim squadrons of Admiral Sir David Beatty which had, through four weary, vigilant years held the German High Sea Fleet in check and made safe the surface of the seas for the shipping of the world.

The Corsair dropped anchor at Rosyth on the day that the American battleship division sailed for home, the first-class fighting ships of Rear Admiral Hugh Rodman which had shared the vigil at Scapa Flow in the gloomy Orkneys and had earned that farewell tribute which Admiral Beatty paid the American officers and men when he called them his “comrades of the mist.” A storm of British cheers bade a fare-you-well to the New York and her sister ships as their flag hoists and semaphores and blinkers talked for the last time in the British signal code, which they had used because they were, not an independent American squadron, but the Sixth Battle Division of the Grand Fleet and gladly operating as such.

The Corsair’s crew had seen much of the French Navy on active service, but this was the first opportunity for intimate contact with British ships and sailors. They found a spirit of cordial welcome and there was a pleasant interchange of calls, of entertainment on shipboard, motion-picture shows, and inspection of the mighty fighting craft which bore the scars of Jutland. Shore liberty at Edinburgh was a most interesting diversion, and the American sailors found that the Scotch people were fond of them and proud of the record for behavior left by the thousands of their comrades who had landed from Admiral Rodman’s battleships.

After twelve days in the Firth of Forth, the Corsair was relieved by the Chester and received orders to report at Portland, England. During the voyage north, Commander Porter had navigated through four hundred miles of swept war channels where the abundance of German mines was presumed to require the most ticklish care. The cleared passages were strewn with wrecks and most British merchantmen were anchoring at night. The Corsair had picked her way, not in a reckless spirit, but because she was due to reach her destination at a specified time and it was the habit of the ship to arrive when she was expected. While returning south to Portland, a pilot was taken on at Yarmouth and casual reference was made to the fact that the yacht had chosen the north channel into the mouth of the Thames while coming over from France.

“My word, but you are lucky beggars!” exclaimed the ruddy pilot. “You should have gone in by the south channel, you know. The other one is a bloomin’ muck o’ mines that ain’t been swept. You couldn’t wait a week for a bally pilot, eh? The sportin’ chance! I fancy it’s the proper spirit in a navy, what?”

At Portland the Corsair found the U.S.S. Bushnell which had served as the mother ship of the American submarine flotilla in Bantry Bay. With her waited five mine-sweepers and five submarine chasers all ready and anxious to sail for home. The yachts Harvard and Aphrodite had come over from Brest and were attached to the North Sea patrol. Later in the winter they were sent to Germany. The Aphrodite hit a mine en route, but luckily its action was delayed and, although damaged, she was able to make port. What aroused eager interest at Portland was a group of five German submarines, moored close to the Bushnell, which comprised an installment of the surrendered fleet of U-boats. Their frightfulness was done. Meekly they had crossed the North Sea, at the bidding of the victors, to be tied up all in a row as a rare show for the jeering comment of British and American bluejackets.

To the sailors of the Corsair it was fascinating to inspect and investigate these uncouth sea monsters which they had hunted and bombed with no more mercy than if they had been vermin. Instead of winning the war for Germany, they had turned the tide against her by arousing the United States to launch its armed forces in the cause of the Allies. And they had branded the German name with infamy and reddened German hands with the blood of thousands of slain seamen.