How the Submarine Works.—Reference to the diagrammatic view of a modern submarine will probably make clear the following explanation of the operation of a submarine. We will assume that our submarine leaves her own harbor with fuel, stores, and torpedoes on board, wireless and signal masts erected. She is bound to a station farther down the coast, but receives word by wireless that an enemy fleet has been seen approaching the coast in such a direction as to indicate an attack on New York. She receives instructions to return and take up a station fifteen miles off Sandy Hook, the entrance to New York Harbor, and also that she is to coöperate with the smaller harbor-defense submarines that are permanently located in New York. She therefore puts back to the station designated. All deck fittings and lines are stowed except the ventilators and the deck wireless outfit; the latter is left standing so as to keep in touch with the scout ships and destroyers which are reporting the approach of the enemy. Shortly after arriving at her station, the commander notes smoke on the horizon and orders are given to "prepare to submerge." Each member of the crew then proceeds to his particular task; the wireless masts and ventilators are quickly housed, and all hatches are closed and secured. The quartermaster and submerged-control man who controls the steering and hydroplane operating gear take their stations in the control department. The engines are uncoupled by means of the rapid operating clutch, the electric motor is coupled, the hydroplanes are unfolded, the valves are opened, and the word is passed to the commander, "All ready for submergence!" All this is done in a modern vessel in less than two minutes.
The command is then given: "Fill main ballast!" Quick-opening valves are opened and the water rushes into the ballast tanks and superstructure at the rate of fifty or sixty tons per minute. The order is then given: "Trim for submergence!" Sufficient water is then admitted into the final adjustment and trim tank to give the desired buoyancy and trim, and the vessel is now ready to submerge on signal from the commander, who now takes his station at the periscope. The gunners have also taken their stations at the torpedo tubes to prepare to load the tubes as soon as the torpedoes already in the tubes are discharged. The whole time consumed from the time word to "prepare to submerge" until the vessel is running under water has probably not been over two or three minutes. In the meantime the enemy has been rapidly approaching and her superstructure is already above the horizon. The commander of the submarine notes that if the enemy holds its course it will be advantageous to change his position to intercept the oncoming fleet. He therefore gives word to submerge to the desired depth and gives the quartermaster the course, and the vessel proceeds, entirely submerged, to get nearer the enemy's line of approach. The commander then brings his submarine to rest before extending his periscope above the surface. As soon as the enemy is found to be coming within range he manœuvres his ship so that his torpedoes will bear the proper distance in advance of the ship he selects to destroy. To make a hit it is necessary to fire in advance of the oncoming ship to allow for the time the torpedo takes to reach the point where the enemy will be. Range finders, torpedo directors, and rapid calculators enable the commander to calculate this to a nicety. If the distance is only a thousand or fifteen hundred yards, a hit is pretty certain to be made, but the greater the distance the less the chance of success and the greater the opportunity for error.
[CHAPTER II]
COMEDY AND TRAGEDY IN SUBMARINE DEVELOPMENT
One of the first queries which laymen usually direct at the submarine navigator is, "Are you not afraid that the boat will never come up?" and other variants on the same theme. Most people are surprised and many are very sceptical when they are informed that there is no sensation at all connected with the act of going under water in a boat except that due to one's own imagination. The fact is that if one were going down inside the vessel in some of the modern submarines he could not readily tell whether the vessel was running on the surface or navigating in a submerged condition.
I remember the time when it was first decided to give a public exhibition of the Argonaut in 1897. Various newspapers were permitted to send their representatives to make a submerged trip in the vessel. Quite a large number of newspaper men were present, and among the reporters was one young lady representing a New York newspaper. This being the first time that the newspaper fraternity had been given the opportunity to make a submarine trip, speculation ran rife as to the outcome of the venture. So great a number of reporters came that all could not be permitted to board the vessel. Lots were therefore cast as to who should go. The lady claimed the privilege of her sex, and all agreed that she should be one of the party. When the lots were drawn, one of those who had drawn a lucky number suddenly recalled that he was afflicted with a very diseased heart, and he did not feel it wise to go. Another discovered that his life insurance had just expired, and he gave up his opportunity to a friend. Finally the party was made up and the boat started away from the dock. They were all invited down into the cabin, where a general conversation ensued as to the possibilities of submarine navigation proving a success, upon the sensation of going under water, and other related subjects; I had given the signal to submerge, in the meantime, several minutes before they had finished visiting with each other. Soon one of them asked me when I expected to submerge. They were all greatly surprised when I informed them that we had already been under water for several minutes, and they would hardly believe it until I took them into the conning tower, where they could see the dark green of the water through the glass of the eye-ports. Two of the party promptly discovered that they had each a bottle of champagne concealed about their persons. It was their opinion that it was time to drink to the health of the lady and to the success of the Argonaut. After we had rummaged around and finally found an old rusty tin cup, this was done.
All first experiences, however, have not been so pleasant as that of the Argonaut's trial. The submarine Hunley (page 150) suffocated and drowned four different crews during her brief career. Twice she was found standing on end with her bow stuck in the mud in the bottom of the river, with a crew of nine men dead in her fore part, where they had been thrown when she dived to the bottom. In these two instances the men were suffocated, due to lack of air, as no water was found in the boat when she was raised. The gradual exhaustion of the air and final unconsciousness which overtook these brave volunteers can only be left to the imagination.
When experimenting with the Argonaut, I received a visit from the late Col. Charles H. Hasker, of Richmond, Va. He had volunteered as one of the party to try the Hunley after she had suffocated her second crew. On the trial, for which Mr. Hasker volunteered, she started away from the dock in tow of the gunboat Ettawan by a line thrown over the hatch combing. She had been trimmed down so that she had very little freeboard, and as she gained headway she started to "shear," due to her peculiar flatiron-shaped bow. Lieutenant Payne, who was in command, attempted to throw the towline off the hatch combing, but got caught in the bight of the line. On his struggle to free himself he knocked a prop from under the tiller of the horizontal diving rudder, which had been set to hold the bow up. As soon as the prop was knocked out the tiller dropped down and inclined the horizontal rudder to dive, and the vessel dove with her hatches open. Lieutenant Payne freed himself, and Colonel Hasker managed to get partly out of one of the hatches before the vessel sank, but the inrushing force of the water closed the hatch door, which caught him by the calf of his leg, and he was carried with the vessel to the bottom in forty-two feet of water. However, he maintained his presence of mind, and when the vessel became full it balanced the pressure so that he could release himself from the hatch cover. He was a good swimmer and escaped to the surface. Two men escaped from the other hatch. The other five members of the crew were drowned in the vessel.