The flotilla of coal-burning destroyers had arrived from the Azores to reinforce the yachts of the Breton Patrol, and four of them were assigned to this escort, the Lamson, Flusser, Preston, and Smith. The yachts Alcedo and Wakiva were also detailed to join the group, and no previous convoy outward bound had been so heavily protected as this. The loss of the Antilles had aroused excitement in the United States because of the false report that the attack had been made by a whole flock of submarines. This was one of those hair-raising newspaper yarns of war-time which would have been important if true.
Steaming out to sea, the Corsair led the imposing column, with a destroyer on each bow of the Finland, the Alcedo to starboard of the Buford, the Wakiva to port, and a destroyer hovering on each quarter of the City of Savannah. There had been no intimation of danger other than the fanciful rumor of the prediction made by the suddenly deceased steward of the Antilles and the routine warning included in the Force orders, “Enemy submarines operating in war zone as usual.”
At 9.25 A.M., one day out from port, the Finland was struck by a torpedo on the starboard side. Again there was no sign of a submarine. This time, however, the Corsair heard the explosion and saw a huge column of water spout up against the ship. But the Finland had no intention of sinking and merely slowed down, then halted, blowing off steam as though waiting for the other transports to catch up with her. As seen from the Corsair, she rode on an even keel and it was impossible to realize that a torpedo had torn a hole thirty-five feet wide in her side, into which the sea was gushing like a cataract.
On board the Finland were many of the survivors of the Antilles and they were in no mood for an encore. They set the pace for the crew of the Finland in the race to abandon ship and the big transport seemed fairly to spill boats and men from every deck. They were dropping overboard before she had wholly slackened way. It was an amazing spectacle. At a distance the Finland made one think of shaking apples from a tree.
THE CORSAIR DROPS A MINE AND SHAKES UP FRITZ
Several of us were standing by the engine-room hatch [wrote Quartermaster Augustus Smith of the Corsair], watching the Finland as she steamed along in that very slow convoy. We were discussing her chances of getting through, and the story that the U-boats were laying for her, when suddenly a white burst of water rose under her bridge and climbed to the top of the foremast. It seemed to be followed by a pillar of dark smoke. At the same time the Corsair was fairly lifted out of the sea by the force of the explosion. All hands made a run for battle stations without waiting for the call.
The first boat from the Finland was dangling from the davits, half-filled with men, when somebody either cut or let go the forward falls. The bow of this big whaleboat crashed down to the water, dumping most of them out. A few managed to hang on and were struggling desperately when the after falls carried away and the boat dropped upon the heads of the men already in the sea. The next boat reached the water only to be up-ended by the headway of the ship. Other boats then waited for the ship to lose way and these got clear all right, but we saw one or two more upset and smashed.
When Commander Freeman, then on the Corsair as division commander, realized that the Finland was not sinking, he semaphored the message:
“Do you think you can make Saint-Nazaire?”