“The first year of the war, I think.”
“Oh, that! Take it from me, Troy, the Arethusa didn’t go near enough that little rock to be seen. That was off the North Frisians, if I remember, and the British ships were careful to pick out a fine misty day. The Arethusa did well, though. I’m not saying she wasn’t a plucky one. As I figure that little ruction, this fellow Beatty—wasn’t he the chap that time?—had his big ships waiting outside in case the Germans showed fight. The Arethusa went in close to draw ’em out. She did it, too, for a couple of German cruisers met her and smeared her considerable. Then she backed out and had tea and fixed things up and went back to it. And they say—and I guess it’s right—that she ‘strafed’ the two Fritzes before she called it a day. Sank one and set the other afire. There were other ships mixed up in that row: the Lion, the Queen Mary, the Invincible, I think it was, and some more. And I dare say there were destroyers barking around, too. And German subs, maybe. I guess it was a pretty scrap, all right, only it was so foggy and dark no one could see who they were fighting. The British did for three German cruisers and some destroyers, and she took hundreds of prisoners; old Admiral von Turpentine’s son among them. But I never heard how many ships the British lost, except from Berlin, and you can’t believe what Berlin says. But I’m betting the Johnnie Bulls didn’t get very close to old Mr. Heligoland!”
“One did,” remarked Nelson. “The Liberty.”
“Did, eh? Liberty? Sounds like one of ours. I don’t remember her.”
“Well, she was only a little destroyer, Garey. But she waltzed straight in under those guns and tried to torpedo the big ships lying in the harbor. And she kept on until she had only one round of ammunition left and one torpedo in her tubes. Then she turned tail and beat it back. She lost her commander and three of her crew, but she lived to tell the story in spite of all the eleven-inch shells they plumped down on her; enough, I guess, to sink her twice over if they’d hit her!”
“What do you know about that?” asked Garey. “Say, she was some little kid, what? Well, you’ve got to hand it to the British for pluck. I always say that. And, say, that Liberty ship was well named, wasn’t she? I wouldn’t wonder if she was an American destroyer they’d borrowed from us, or something. Anyway, I’ll bet more than half the ‘gobs’ were Irish!”
There’s always a nasty, choppy sea running in that stretch of water hemmed in by the British Isles and the coasts of Germany and Denmark. Shallow and treacherous and generally vile, it is abhorred by sailors the world over, and those on the Gyandotte could find nothing good to say of it. All that day the mist held and hid everything a mile or so distant, and the lookouts never kept their eyes peeled any more thoroughly than they did while the line of ships steamed on toward the north. It was an area well infested with German submarines, while it was no unusual thing for a pack of destroyers to dart out from one of the protected bases on the chance of picking off a lone prey. But, save that the sharp, short waves kept the decks wet and made everyone uncomfortable—life on the destroyers must have been miserable indeed, Nelson thought—no incident pleasant or unpleasant broke the monotony. Forty-six hours after passing Dover the American ships reached the Skager Rack and dropped anchors off Christiansand, where, during a long, black night, they rolled and tumbled miserably. Nelson always recalled that night as one of the most unpleasant of his life, for they had suddenly penetrated into Winter weather and few of the men had as yet received their heavy clothing. Even below deck it was cold, and in the hammocks sleep was a chill nightmare. Pitch and toss and freeze was the program that night, and not a man aboard but longed for daylight. Ferris, for once supplied with something to be thoroughly pessimistic about, fairly outdid himself!
The next morning, which dawned bright and frostily clear, the ships sought calmer quarters and in the afternoon liberty was granted and the little city was over-run with Jackies. The attitude of the inhabitants puzzled Nelson. They appeared friendly, or, certainly, not unfriendly, but kept oddly aloof and were uncommunicative to a degree. The men on all ships had been specially and strictly cautioned as to behavior, and as a result the Christiansand folks had nothing to complain of on that score. Ferris remarked gloomily that they were “a frosty lot,” and reckoned they never got quite thawed out after the long Winters.
Towards five o’clock word went around that warships were coming up from southward, and there was much activity along the harbor front. A Norwegian gunboat of a very ancient vintage rolled out to sea, apparently, as one of the Gyandotte’s crew said, “to give ’em the once over.” Evidently the gunboat was satisfied. Or else she thought discretion the better part of valor. In either case, she was soon hiking back to the protection of the fort, looking immensely relieved. It was nearly six o’clock before the newcomers revealed themselves beyond question as British destroyers. They slap-banged cheerfully through the channel and came about and slid to anchorage amidst the American ships with a dash that brought cheers of admiration as well as welcome from the latter. The British “gobs” cheered back and for several minutes the staid old harbor was extremely noisy and ribald. Signal flags fluttered, boatswain’s pipes peep-peeped, bugles called, and winches rattled and hummed. And along the shore the mild-eyed and annoyingly self-contained citizens looked on curiously. Perhaps they suspected an Allied attack. If they did their demeanor was a model of coolness.
On the Gyandotte the side boys lined up, the boatswain trilled merrily and the Old Man and the luff went over the side into a gig and were pulled away to the British flagship, a three-stacked destroyer with great high bows and a veritable bulwark of depth charges lined amidship. Nelson wondered hard what it all meant, and his heart thumped like a hammer several times when he realized the possibilities. The combined forces included a light cruiser and ten destroyers, enough thought Nelson hopefully to provide some lively times if the enemy was sighted. He climbed into his hammock at midnight, however, with curiosity still unappeased, and the next day was quite uneventful. One might have thought that the American and British ships had made an appointment at Christiansand merely to enjoy an uninterrupted palaver. The northern sunlight made gay with fluttering bunting, small boats crossed from ship to ship and the harbor had a most holiday appearance. On shore, Limie “gobs” and American tars fraternized and swapped yarns and rode on the tram cars or in carriages and saw the sights very happily. Not until late in the day was the disappointing truth made known. Then from eastward, probably out of Christiania, lumbered fourteen Norwegian cargo boats, each well down in the water and each fairly shrieking its nationality in great white letters along its hull. And this was what the Gyandotte and all the destroyers had come hundreds of miles for! To escort a lot of freighters across the North Sea! It was fairly disgusting!