Pincher Martin, O.D.: A Story of the Inner Life of the Royal Navy

IV

Christmas came and went; but, though the ship's company made a point of keeping up the time-honoured traditions and customs, things were hardly the same as usual. They did not suffer from lack of seasonable fare, for volleys of plum-puddings and other comestibles from home had temporarily superseded the deluge of mufflers, mittens, and cigarettes; while the canteen did a roaring trade in turkeys, geese, boiled hams, fruit, holly, and chains of coloured paper for decorations.

On the morning of the 25th itself the squadron happened to be in harbour, and at daylight the Belligerent and every other ship appeared with the customary branches of fir and evergreen lashed to the mastheads and the yardarms.

At eight o'clock came a signal from the vice-admiral wishing all the officers and men under his command 'A Happy Christmas;' and at divisions at nine-thirty the officers took the opportunity of saying the same.

Then came church and the issue of Princess Mary's gifts; and if the donors to the fund could have seen the way these gilt boxes, with their cards, pipes, packets of tobacco, and cigarettes, were appreciated by their recipients they would have felt that their generosity had been repaid. A gift was always a gift and something to be appreciated, but a gift from a Royal Princess was to be treasured as an heirloom. As a consequence, the greater number of the men sent their boxes home by registered post without smoking the contents. They were far too valuable to be kept on board when there was a chance of the ship being torpedoed by a hostile submarine or sunk by a mine.

Shortly before noon the band assembled outside the captain's cabin, and as eight bells struck, Captain Spencer, preceded by the musicians playing 'The Roast Beef of Old England' and the 'funny party' with blackened faces and attired in a variety of strange costumes, and followed by a procession of all the officers, made the usual tour of the mess-deck. Some of the messes were embellished with festoons of paper chains, sprigs and bunches of holly and mistletoe, and home-made mottoes. Others were hardly decorated at all, but all the tables were well laden with food. At the foot of each mess stood a man with a plate of cake, pastry, or pudding, which he offered to all the officers in turn as they passed by. Every one of them took a small piece, wished the occupants of the mess 'A Happy Christmas,' nibbled the cake or whatever it was, and then hastily secreted the remains in his pocket. There were several dozen messes to be visited, and a few ounces of stodgy cake from each of them would provide more than enough for a schoolboy.

Opposite one of the chief petty officers' messes the procession came to a halt close to a blackboard on which was chalked in large letters:

'The Ship's Company of H.M.S. Belligerent wish Captain Spencer and the officers a very happy Christmas and a bright and joyful New Year. They deeply regret that up to the present Captain Spencer has not had the opportunity of taking them into action, but are anxiously awaiting the time when he will.'

The captain smiled, took the proffered chalk, and made his reply.

'The same to you,' he wrote. 'Captain Spencer will be only too pleased to take the ship into action whenever the enemy give him the chance. When the time comes he and the officers know that they may rely on the "Belligerents" to give a good account of themselves. Let 'em all come!'

Loud and prolonged cheering before the procession moved on.

It took fully half-an-hour to do the whole round of the messes; but at last the officers disappeared to their own lunch, and left the men to go on with their meal. They acquitted themselves nobly.

Soon after lunch, when Tickle had retired to his cabin and was composing himself for his usual afternoon slumber, there came a knock at his door. 'Well, what is it?' he inquired lazily.

'It's me, sir,' said Petty Officer Casey, insinuating his head through the curtain. 'The foc's'lemen sends their compliments, sir, an' would yer be so kind as to visit 'em in their messes for a few minutes?'

Tickle yawned, hoisted himself out of his bunk, and stepped outside. Here he was promptly seized by four stalwart A.B.'s, hoisted shoulder-high, and, with a man in front playing triumphantly upon a mouth-organ, was carried off. Down ladders and up ladders they went, through cheering crowds on the mess-deck, until they finally allowed him to slide gracefully to earth among the men of his own forecastle division.

They proceeded to drink his health in navy rum, a compliment which he was bound to return; but even then the ordeal was not over.

'They'd like yer to say a few words, sir,' Petty Officer Casey prompted him hoarsely.

Tickle cleared his throat nervously. 'I'm not much of a hand at making a speech,' he began; 'but I'm very glad to come here and wish you all a happy Christmas again. From what I can see' – he looked round the tables – 'you all seem to have been enjoying yourselves. My only regret – our only regret, I should say – is that we haven't had a chance of meeting the enemy yet; but that's a pleasure we all look forward to' —

Here he was interrupted by loud cheers and bangings on the tables.

'It's quite unnecessary for me to tell you that I know the Belligerent will do jolly well when the time comes, and that the men of the forecastle division will do better than any one else' —

Loud cries of ''Ear, 'ear!' and more shouting.

'I've clean forgotten what I was going to say,' he went on, laughing. 'Oh yes. I'm sure the forecastlemen will do better than any one else when it comes to a scrap; but don't get down-hearted if we have to wait for some time before we get it. Other ships have had a run for their money, and we haven't; but we're all doing our bit for the country, and it's up to us to do our duty wherever the Admiralty choose to send us. At the same time, I hope the war will not be over before we have our look in. Well,' he concluded, 'I don't think there is anything else I can say, except to wish you all the best of luck.' He lifted the fanny³⁰ to his lips and sipped its contents.

'An' th' same to you, sir!' came a roar. 'Three cheers for Lootenant Tickle!'

'One more, boys!' somebody yelled excitedly. 'Hip, hip, hip, hurrah!'

Tickle, feeling very awkward and red in the face, bowed his acknowledgments. 'Thank you very much indeed,' he said quietly. He could not express his feelings in mere words.

The Belligerent was a happy ship, and the officers were popular with their men, and many of them, including the commander, the engineer-commander, all the officers of divisions, captain of marines, and most of the midshipmen and warrant-officers, were ruthlessly dragged from their afternoon slumber and carried forward to the mess-decks to make speeches. Christmas, the time of good-fellowship and goodwill, only came once a year, but it was one of the rare occasions when the men were able to show their officers what they really thought of them.

So, taking it all round, they managed to enjoy themselves, for bluejackets always succeed in being cheerful under any circumstances; but nobody could help having a feeling at the back of his mind that this particular Christmas was not quite the same as others, as indeed it was not. They were thinking of their homes and of what was happening there, and many of them, officers as well as men, had not set foot on shore for weeks – months, in some cases.

Boxing Day found the squadron at sea.

CHAPTER XI
BLACK FRIDAY

I

''Appy Noo Year, chum,' said the lookout-man on the starboard side of the Belligerent's bridge, as Pincher Martin came up to relieve him at five minutes past midnight on the morning of 1st January. 'Lawd!' he added with a shiver, stamping his sea-booted feet, 'I shall be glad ter git inter me bloomin' 'ammick.'

'Noo Year, is it?' Pincher queried with a prolonged yawn. 'Well, th' compliments o' th' season to yer, Shiner White. 'Strewth!' he added, 'it's a bit parky, ain't it?' He undid the toggles of his thick lammy coat,³¹ and gave the muffler another turn round his neck.

The other man nodded. 'There ain't nothink in sight,' he went on hastily, anxious not to prolong the conversation; 'but if yer sees a light or anythink, look out yer sings out sharp an' loud, so that th' orficer o' the watch'll 'ear yer. S'long, chum!'

'S'long, Shiner! 'Appy dreams.'

Pincher, left to his own devices, looked about him. The squadron was at sea, and to his unpractised eye the night seemed unusually fine. What little wind there was seemed to be coming in from the south-westward in fitful, erratic puffs, and the great ship rode over a smooth, gradually increasing swell without perceptible movement. If he had been a weather prophet the state of the sea and the sky would have warned him to expect a change in the weather; but he was a novice at such things, and the signs and portents of sky and sea conveyed little to his mind.

The moon was up, and the night was not really dark as nights go; but every now and then the brilliance of the moon was temporarily dimmed by great high cloud-masses travelling down from windward across the face of the blue, star-spangled heavens. Away to the south-westward a heavy piled-up bank of dark hue, looking for all the world like a gigantic mountain range overtopping the horizon, was gradually encroaching on the sky as it mounted up and up into space. Its upper edges were frayed and fretted by the wind, and occasional wisps of cloud torn from the main mass were being flung off into space by the upper air-currents, to come scurrying to leeward in low-lying, streaky fragments like spun silk. They were mares'-tails, and the swell and the watery halo round the moon were other bad tokens. They portended wind – wind, and plenty of it. Soon the sky would be completely overcast. Before daylight it would probably be blowing hard.

The Belligerent was somewhere near the tail of the line of battleships. A short distance in front of her came the huge hull of the next ahead clearly silhouetted against the sky. Farther ahead again were the dark outlines of other vessels, their shapes getting smaller and less distinct as they merged in the deep shadows on the horizon.

On board the Belligerent herself half the seamen were at their stations at the guns ready for repelling a possible torpedo attack, and the other half, who had been relieved at midnight, had just retired to their hammocks for four hours' rest before being called up for the morning watch at four o'clock. The ship was in the charge of the officer of the watch, who leant placidly against the standard compass on the upper bridge gazing at the next ahead; while Colomb, the navigator, was asleep on the settee in the charthouse. Captain Spencer was in his sleeping-cabin just underneath, and was dozing, fully dressed, in an arm-chair in front of the stove. The book he had been reading had dropped to the floor, and Joe, his fox-terrier, lay curled up in a tight little bundle at his feet. The captain was a light sleeper at the best of times, and the least unusual sound, even the opening of the door, would have brought him to his feet in an instant. As an extra precaution there was an electric bell screwed to the bulkhead close beside his left ear, and if the officer of the watch desired his immediate presence all he had to do was to place a finger on a push close by the standard compass. The resulting jangle would have roused the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus, let alone the skipper, who never indulged in anything but cat-naps at sea. The officers of watches were well aware of it, for Captain Spencer had a habit of prowling about at night, and frequently came on to the bridge when he was least expected. Once or twice he had found the ship some distance out of station, and then there had been trouble.

Of what really occurred, how long it lasted, and of the actual sequence of events, Pincher had a very hazy recollection. He remembered noticing the captain come on to the bridge and start walking up and down with his hands in his great-coat pockets and his dog padding softly after him. Then, quite suddenly, and for no apparent reason, there came the shattering roar of a heavy explosion. The ship quivered and shook violently; and, glancing aft with his heart in his mouth, Pincher saw a great column of whity-gray water towering high over the boat-deck half-way along the starboard side. He watched it spell-bound. The mass hung for a moment glimmering in the half-light, and then tottered and fell with a sound like a waterfall. He could feel the damp spray of it on his face.

The familiar throb of the engines died away, and there came the roaring bellow of escaping steam; and the ship, evidently holed far below the water-line, heeled over to starboard. Then the roaring of the steam ceased, and there came a moment's dead silence, followed by excited shouting as the men who had been asleep in their hammocks thronged on to the upper deck.

The whole thing happened so suddenly and unexpectedly that for the moment Captain Spencer was taken by surprise; and, running to the after side of the bridge, he stood there gripping the rail spasmodically, with a look of utter astonishment on his face. A bare instant later, however, he turned forward again with a gesture of annoyance; while Joe, taking it for some new game for his especial benefit, frisked beside him. 'Down, Joe! down!' Pincher heard him say in his ordinary voice. – 'Stop both engines!' came his first order. – 'Officer of the watch!'

'Sir.'

'Go down and tell the commander to get the collision-mat out, and then to turn out all boats. He's not to lower them without orders from me; and tell him to let me know the damage as soon as he can!'

'Ay, ay, sir,' said English quite calmly, leaving the bridge.

The captain turned on his heel and dictated a signal informing the flagship of what had occurred. Pincher watched, for even now Captain Spencer's face was absolutely inscrutable, and showed nothing of the awful anxiety which must have been in his heart.

The commander, who had rushed from his cabin when the crash came, had already taken charge on deck. Order was evolved out of chaos, and the shouting had ceased. An instant later a bugle blared the 'Still,' and the boatswain's mates could be heard piping.

There was dead silence among the men as the word was passed, and then the bugle sounded 'Carry on,' and the tramping of feet could be heard as the ship's company ran to their stations.

All except a few unimportant watertight doors, which were closed at the last moment by specially detailed men, were always kept shut at sea; so little could be done to add to the safety of the ship beyond endeavouring to prevent the ingress of water.

The men were well disciplined. They must have felt nervous, must have realised that there was an enormous hole below the water-line through which the water was pouring like a mill-race; added to this, it was dark, and there were no lights on deck. But there were not the smallest signs of panic or confusion. They behaved splendidly, and worked silently under the orders of their officers as if it were an ordinary peace-time evolution instead of grim reality.

Pincher himself was undecided for the moment as to what he should do. Ought he to join his part of the ship and assist in getting out the collision-mat, or should he remain where he was? He had no orders to leave his post, but it was hardly likely that any one would trouble his head about him now. For a moment he was torn with doubt, but finally made up his mind that he would stay on the bridge. He might be of some use in carrying messages, he thought.

The stricken vessel seemed to be leaning more and more over to starboard; but before very long the collision-mat, a large square of several thicknesses of the stoutest canvas well thrummed with oakum, was being lowered into place under the bottom. It was designed, by being stretched taut over the orifice, to reduce the flow of water through a comparatively small hole caused by a collision with another ship, and it seemed hardly likely that it would be of any use in checking the inrush through the gigantic rent caused by an underwater explosion; but there was no harm in trying it. It might do some good.

'Haul away the bottom line!' the first lieutenant's voice could be heard. 'That's the way, lads! Away with her!'

''Vast hauling!' came the next order, accompanied by the shrill trilling of a boatswain's whistle. 'Away with the fore and afters!'

The mat was out of sight below the water, its bottom corner dragged taut against the ship's side by the bottom line passing under the keel and hauled taut on the opposite side of the deck, and the upper corner held in place by the depth-line. The fore and afters were the ropes secured to the side corners, and they, on being hauled taut and belayed, held it out square.

'Mat's placed, sir!' came Chase's voice again.

The wind had increased, and white-capped seas had replaced the smooth swell of an hour before. The ship, listing to an angle of about fifteen degrees, seemed to be remaining fairly steady, but she was appreciably lower in the water, and the starboard edge of the forecastle was barely six feet above the crests of the waves as they raced by.

The cutters at the davits had been turned out ready for lowering, but all the smaller boats, galley, whalers, and gigs, had been landed. Hatherley, who was working the steam boat-hoist used for getting out the heavier boats stowed on the booms between the after funnel and the mainmast, had the derrick topped and the largest rowing-boat in the ship – the forty-two-foot launch, which, at a pinch, could carry one hundred and forty men – hooked on all ready for swinging out into the water as soon as he got orders to do so.

Circling round the injured ship were a couple of light cruisers which had been sent by the vice-admiral to render what assistance they could. Flashing-signals were passing between them and the Belligerent, and they were evidently asking if they should lower their boats.

'Tell 'em to wait,' Pincher heard Captain Spencer say to a signalman, without a tremor in his voice. 'Tell 'em to wait. I think we shall be able to keep afloat.'

The sky was nearly overcast, and the night had become very dark, and all the remainder of the squadron had vanished. They were only acting in accordance with their orders, however, for since the loss of the Aboukir, the Cressy, and the Hogue in the North Sea the previous September, it had been definitely laid down that heavy, deep-draught ships were not to go to the assistance of vessels which had been torpedoed or mined, lest they should share the same fate. It went sadly against the grain for British officers to be forced to leave comrades in distress; but every one realised the necessity for the order, and the two small cruisers were the only ships available for the work of rescue.

'Messenger!' the captain called.

No reply.

'Here, boy, come here!' he went on, catching sight of Pincher on the starboard side of the bridge.

Martin went forward, and felt himself grabbed by the sleeve.

'Go down and tell the commander that I'm waiting to know what damage there is,' Captain Spencer said hurriedly. 'Away you go!'

Pincher scrambled down the sloping ladder with difficulty, but had barely reached the boat-deck to go aft when he cannoned into Commander Travers coming in the opposite direction. 'The capten would like ter know wot th' damage is, sir,' he explained.

'All right, I'm on my way to tell him,' the officer returned curtly. 'Get out of the way, boy!'

Martin stood aside, and followed him up the ladder again, without really meaning to overhear his conversation with the captain.

'How goes it, Travers?' was Captain Spencer's first anxious question.

'Pretty bad, sir,' the commander replied with the least trace of anxiety in his voice. 'Some of the boiler-rooms are flooded, and the water seems to be making its way forward and aft. One or two bulkheads have gone already!'

'Good God!' the captain exclaimed; 'is it as bad as that? Is the mat doing any good?'

The commander shook his head. 'Might just as well try to stop the hole with a bit o' stickin'-plaster, sir,' he said tersely. 'I've just seen the engineer-commander,' he went on, 'and he tells me he's doing all he can, but that the water's gaining on us fast. I've got men down below shoring up bulkheads to prevent their bursting, but I doubt if they'll do much good. However, sir,' he added hopefully, 'she hasn't listed much during the last few minutes, and perhaps we'll be able to save her yet.'

'Pray God we shall, Travers!' Captain Spencer returned gravely. 'You'd better get all the boats out as soon as you can, and keep 'em alongside; but don't allow the men into them until I give orders. I'll tell the cruisers to send theirs across, but we'll make 'em lie off for the time being. Well, so long, commander, in case we don't meet each other again. Do all you can.'

'I hope it's not so bad as I think, sir,' Travers said with a forced laugh as he turned to leave the bridge. 'It's a damned nasty night to go swimmin', I must say. It was a submarine, I suppose, sir?'

'Must have been. By the way, you'd better warn 'em to blow up their swimming-collars.' The captain was ever mindful of his men.

'I will, sir. What about you?'

'Don't worry about me, man. You see to the ship's company. I'll look out for myself.'

The commander disappeared.

The time passed. There was still a chance of the ship remaining afloat, and by about three o'clock, merely as a precautionary measure, the launch and the pinnace had been hoisted out and the boats lowered; though one cutter, lowered too rapidly, had capsized and disappeared. During the interval the ship did not seem to have listed any more to starboard, and favourable reports had come from down below as to the chances of remaining afloat. In fact, they were all congratulating themselves that the damage had been overrated, when another heavy explosion roared out from the port side aft.

'By God!' muttered the captain under his breath; 'that's another torpedo!'

The Belligerent, with a fresh wound open to the sea, shuddered violently, and then gave a sickening lurch to starboard, and lay over until her masts were at an angle of thirty degrees from the vertical. The starboard side of the upper deck was under water, and the other lifted high in the air, while the inclination was so great that it was barely possible to walk. Realising that the end could not be long delayed, Captain Spencer dragged himself to the bridge-rail and raised a megaphone to his lips. 'Abandon ship!' he roared in a voice which could be heard above the howling of the wind and the raging of the sea. 'Save yourselves, men! Save yourselves!'

The word was passed along, but still there was no undue haste or confusion. Stokers and other men of the engine-room department who had been employed below until the last moment, some of them clad in their grimy working-clothes, others nearly naked, came pouring up the hatchways leading to the upper deck.

A cloud drifted away from the face of the moon, and a subdued silvery light lit up the awful scene.

The boats, plunging wildly on the rapidly rising sea, pounded and crashed alongside. A small group of officers stood beside each one superintending the disembarkation, and the men, standing in long queues, could be seen jumping into them one by one. Several, leaping too late or too early, fell between the boats and the ship's side, and were never seen again.

The doctors and the sick-berth staff, unmindful of their own safety, passed their sick and ailing into the boats, and remained behind themselves.

'Steady, lads! steady!' the chaplain, gallant man that he was, could be heard saying coolly. 'One at a time! Keep cool, boys! Keep cool!'

Many men, relying on their life-belts or swimming-collars, had flung themselves overboard and were swimming in the direction of the cruisers, whose rescuing boats were on their way across as fast as their eager crews could drive them. A certain number of the swimmers were eventually picked up and saved, but by far the greater proportion perished in the wild tumult. Every one knew that there was room for barely more than a fifth of the ship's company in the boats; but, in the face of almost certain death, there was no panic.

''Ullo, 'Orace,' a burly stoker remarked to a friend with a laugh, 'comin' swimmin'?'

'Looks like it, chum,' answered the other glumly, eyeing the white-capped seas with nervous apprehension. 'Ain't much of a night fur a picnic like, this 'ere, is it?'

'Rottenest bloomin' regatta ever I saw,' rejoined the first speaker, who was attired in nothing but a singlet and an inflated swimming-collar. ''Ow's this fur a bathin'-costoom? What'd my ole 'ooman say if she see'd me on th' beach at Margit in this 'ere? Ow!' he yelled, as a breaking wave deluged him with icy spray. 'Gawd! ain't it cold? Come on, boys; come an' 'ave a dip! Any more fur th' shore?'

The others hung back.

'Wot! not comin'?' he went on, walking to the edge of the boat-deck and gazing out at the sea. 'Well, s'long, blokes. 'Ere goes!'

He clambered down the ship's side on to the net-shelf, waited till a large sea came swishing past, and then slipped into the water, to vanish in a smother of foam. An instant later he reappeared, swimming strongly in the direction of the nearer cruiser. He was never seen again.

Somebody started the chorus of 'Tipperary' to cheer the flagging spirits of his shipmates, but the gallant effort met with little response. Numbers of men, trying to nerve themselves for the ordeal of leaping overboard and of saving themselves by swimming, shrank back at the sight of the raging sea. It was enough to appal the bravest heart, and the ship, though sinking fast, still seemed to offer a safer refuge than that wild waste of water.

The captain, holding on to the bridge-rail to prevent himself from being carried off his feet, surveyed the scene calmly. 'Jump, men! jump!' he bellowed to a hesitating group on the boat-deck. 'For God's sake, jump! It's your only chance!' Turning round, he noticed that Pincher and one or two signalmen were still on the bridge. 'What are you doing here?' he demanded with a touch of his old asperity. 'The ship's sinking! Get down out of it, and save yourselves!'

Pincher and some of the others obeyed, but the chief yeoman of signals, noticing that the captain wore no life-belt or swimming-collar, calmly proceeded to divest himself of a cork jacket. 'Take this, sir,' he said, handing it across; 'I've got my collar.'

Captain Spencer pushed it away. 'Use it yourself, man!' he said firmly. 'Use it yourself!'

'But I don't want it, sir,' the chief yeoman persisted.

'Do what you're told, Morris,' came the answer. 'Leave the bridge and save yourself; she'll go in another minute or two! I'll look out for myself!'

Morris hesitated for another instant, saw his commanding officer was in earnest, and left the bridge.

'Good luck to you, Morris!' the captain called out after him.

'Good luck, sir.'

Captain Spencer, alone with his dog, leant down and lifted him into his arms. 'I'm afraid we're done in this time, old man,' he whispered sadly. 'We may as well go together. Good-bye, old Joe!' His voice was husky with emotion as he buried his face in the animal's warm coat; and the dog, seeming to understand, turned his head and licked his master's cheek.

The end came almost immediately, for before some of the boats had got clear the ship lurched drunkenly to starboard, to hurl men and movable fittings in one awful chaotic avalanche into the water. For one moment there was wild confusion, and the sea was covered with the heads of swimmers fighting for their lives; the next, there came the muffled roar of bursting bulkheads, and the Belligerent hove herself back on to an even keel, with the water washing across her decks.

A searchlight flickered out from one of the cruisers and lit up the scene. Lower and lower sank the doomed ship, until at last the waves were breaking across the top of the boat-deck, and only the two masts, the funnels, and the bridge showed above the surface. She seemed to hesitate for a moment as if unwilling to take the final plunge, and then, with a dull, booming sound as the water reached the boilers, slowly slid from view.

There was no vortex or upheaval of spray, merely a swift rush of sparks and a cloud of smoke and steam, which rapidly dissolved on the wind, and in a few more seconds the ship had vanished for ever. Nothing remained to tell of her presence except the boats, the dark heads of the battling survivors, some débris, and an ever-widening circle of calm, oil-strewn water, on the outskirts of which the waves leapt tumultously. But on the bridge, game to the very last, two heroic spirits, a man and a dog, had gone to their long last rest together.