On the night of October 2, 1917, at 11.25 P.M., a dark object was sighted by the officer of the deck, bearing about three points on the port bow. The officer of the deck, after looking at the object with the night glasses, called out that it was a submarine. The order was given for full left rudder and to steady on the submarine which was then plainly visible in the moonlight. At the same time emergency speed was rung up and before we had swung to the new course we were fast gaining speed. The captain almost immediately came on the bridge and ordered that a shot be taken at the submarine which was about three hundred yards away and moving slowly on the surface in the general direction we were steering. We swung a little to starboard and one shot was fired which cleared the periscope and showed the submarine distinctly for a second.
From the way the Corsair answered the rudder we were making fine speed. The submarine completely disappeared when we were just a little way off. As we crossed her apparent course we began dropping depth charges, four in all. As we passed over her position we went full right rudder, dropping two of the cans as we swung. We then steadied on North 74° East, the original course, and ran it about five minutes. We then slowed to thirteen knots and went full right rudder, and steadied on South 80° West. Returning over the spot where the charges had exploded, we ran into a great slick of oil that seemed to spread out for several hundred yards. A strong odor of oil could be smelled, even on the bridge.
CHAPTER V
WHEN THE ANTILLES WENT DOWN
For more than three months the Corsair had been escorting transports and supply steamers to and fro, in an area of ocean where the hostile submarines cruised incessantly. Not a ship in all these unwieldy convoys had been torpedoed, and the few hard-driven yachts could feel, without boasting, that they were doing their bit to keep the road open to France. It was unreasonable to expect, however, that the record could be kept wholly clear of disaster. The fortune of war was not as kind as this.
The unhappy event occurred without warning on October 17th when the transport Antilles, a fine, seven-thousand-ton steamer of the Southern Pacific Company, was sent to the bottom with many of her people. It was no fault of the escort, for there was never a sight of a periscope nor any other indication that a submarine was near. The Corsair did what she could and did it well, saving survivors from the sea with the readiness and courage that might have been expected.
The convoy had sailed from Saint-Nazaire two days earlier, waiting at Quiberon for one of the ships to join. With the Antilles were the Henderson and the Willehad. The escort comprised the Corsair, phrodite, and the Kanawha, which replaced the Wakiva after this smaller yacht had returned to port because of leaky rivets in the main boiler. With the circumstances as they were, no better protection could have been given this small convoy of three transports. The Queenstown destroyers were employed in guarding the laden ships inward bound, meeting them far offshore, but the American Patrol Force in France had to take them to sea again as best it could, with the yachts and whatever aid the French Navy was able to offer.
The small flotilla of coal-burning destroyers which was sent to base on Brest had not yet arrived and was en route from the Azores. Captain W. B. Fletcher, who commanded the Patrol Force at this time, and who was superseded by Admiral Wilson a little later, received a certain amount of adverse criticism because of the loss of the Antilles, but the fact is evident that he had taken all the precautions within his power to send this convoy safely through the danger zone.
ENGINEERING FORCE OF THE CORSAIR
