8 October, 1918.
Admiral Mayo, commander-in-chief, left the headquarters of the mine force yesterday evening for the south.
He expressed himself as highly pleased with the zeal, loyal coöperation and efficiency of the mine force both ashore and afloat and congratulated us on the work we have accomplished.
The commander of the mine force is unable to give any data as to the number of enemy submarines that have been destroyed as a result of our efforts, but it is practically certain that the toll is considerable.
The commander-in-chief emphasized the part that the mine force is taking against the enemy as a distinct military offensive, thoroughly known and appreciated at home.
Admiral Mayo found things in their normal condition, with no preparation made for him, as some ships were coaling, others embarking mines. He was evidently pleased with all that he saw, and he remarked how fortunate it was that we had been training in that kind of work, in the old, small mine force, for two years past.
Bad weather during some part of an excursion became now the rule. Coming through a narrow passage in Westray Firth one morning, strong tide against a strong wind made an ugly cross sea, knocking us down to eight knots. One destroyer broached to, and for a few moments lay between our columns, wallowing heavily, as if the next roll would surely take her under.
Shortly afterwards, one arm of the Quinnebaug’s rudder quadrant broke, and the other arm bent almost to the point of fracture. Had it too gone, she could not have escaped wreck on the rocky channel side. Fortunately she was able to gain partial shelter; in two hours she made repairs and, taking after the rest at top speed, she arrived at Invergordon only 45 minutes behind them. As a coastwise merchant liner, she was often behind time, but in naval hands she developed speed to spare, frequently maintaining on natural draft 10 per cent more than her former best speed under forced draft.
Passing mines adrift was a frequent occurrence. Occasionally we would have to turn out for them. If of the moored type originally, broken away from their anchors, they should be safe when drifting. But of course safety devices, like all others, not infrequently fail to function, especially after immersion in sea water. We let the mines alone, but occasionally an escort destroyer would fire a few rounds, to sink them.
A German floating mine, upon one occasion, was sighted nearly ahead by the Quinnebaug, at a moment when her port paravane, running foul, had been hauled in, to clear it. Thrown overboard bodily, the paravane fell on its back, and fortunately righting itself, came in contact with the floating mine, which apparently had a mooring line attached to it, and towed it along with the ship for probably 30 seconds—when the mine detached itself and floated astern. While this was going on on deck, a fire broke out below, in the midst of the mines on the stowage deck. The ship’s cooks, who were in the galley at work, with the greatest promptness seized hand fire extinguishers, climbed over between the mines and extinguished the flames. The Quinnebaug started planting within two minutes after this danger was averted.