From Snotty to Sub

by Wolston B. C. W. Forester

Or the great grey level plains of ooze where the shell-burred cables creep.

Kipling

Although the disaster to the Vanguard took place when we were in harbour, and the ill-fated ship was lying only about four cables from us, I personally was not a witness of her sad end, for it took place about 11.30 P.M., at which time I was asleep in my hammock, and—strange as it may seem—I was not even aroused by the noise of the explosion. However, next morning one of my messmates gave me the following account of what he had seen. He had been just about to turn in when he heard the detonation, and dashed up on to the fo'c'sle to see what had happened. Flames were leaping up to an incredible height, and the air was thick with fragments of red-hot metal.

Climbing down on to the quarter-deck, he observed that some of our ship's company were lowering a whaler, but as there was no officer in charge he jumped in, took the tiller, and headed for the scene of the disaster. No trace of the Vanguard was to be seen, but where she had lain the sea was ablaze with burning oil, and there seemed but little hope of rescuing even such of her crew as might have survived the explosion. Although the flaming waters were strewn with debris of every description, they saw no single sign of humanity save only the scorched and blackened corpse of a stoker, which they lifted into the whaler and later handed over to a trawler.

On an island, some half a mile away, numerous fires had sprung up, started apparently by fragments of burning cordite, and such had been the force of the explosion that a cutter, weighing over two tons, had passed right between the masts of the next ship in the line.

Our boat remained in the vicinity of the disaster for some time, but could find no survivors to pick up, and so they had sadly to return to the ship.

When next morning I was awakened by Campbell and told of the tragedy which had taken place while I slept, I could hardly believe it. Leaping out of my hammock, I ran up on deck to see for myself.... Alas, it was too true, for where only last night the Vanguard had lain, nothing was now visible but a few patches of oil floating on the calm surface of the harbour.

Collecting my gear, I went down to the bathroom, where I found five members of her gunroom, who, having been at one of the Fleet Theatre shows the night before, had escaped the disaster, and had been sent to us pending the holding of a court of inquiry. They were naturally the centre of an excited crowd, who all seemed to expect them to be able to give some information, in spite of the fact that as they were in another ship, and more than a mile away at the time of the explosion, they had both heard and seen rather less than ourselves.

That afternoon they were sent off to an auxiliary cruiser, where they were confronted with the melancholy task of trying to identify such portions of human bodies as had been recovered along the foreshore and floating in the sea. It is not to be wondered at that they returned in the evening in a very dismal and morbid frame of mind.

During the day, parties from many of the ships were detailed to search the neighbouring islands for the log, ledger, and other registers kept on board H.M.'s ships, as these may sometimes afford a clue to the cause of an accident, and in any case it is obvious that such highly confidential documents as wireless and signal books must not be allowed to fall into unauthorized hands.