A Tale of Devotion to Duty.
by Lieut. W. Johnson (late R.N.).
Originally published in The Novel Magazine (C. Arthur Pearson, Ltd.) vol.2 #10 (Jan 1906).
The story of a catastrophe on a submarine.
For generations back the Montgomerys had been represented in His Majesty's Navy. Indeed, the family records proved that ever since King Alfred had thought fit to start his converted Viking fleet, there had been one of their line ready to risk his life on the main for Britain and help to maintain her in the proud position of "Mistress of the Seas."
And now that old Captain Montgomery's active days were over, he found a willing successor in his only son and heir, Gerald, of whom he was not only naturally but justly proud.
Gerald, apart from an absolute love for the sea and all appertaining thereto, had proved himself, whilst undergoing his training on board H.M.S. Britannia, no mean scholar; as a consequence he had passed out from that vessel to his first sea-going ship with many honours to his credit.
At the present time he was at Portsmouth, training for the position of commander of a submarine, which appointment, the Admiralty had informed him, would be his next. Having gone through the various courses of instruction, he duly received his appointment, with the intimation that he would be required to join submarine B 7 in ten days' time, but that until then he could have leave of absence. This he decided to spend at home, where he was warmly welcomed.
Though immensely pleased with the recognition of his son's skill that the appointment implied, in his heart of hearts old Captain Montomery would far rather it had been something a little less dangerous.
Not for a moment, however, would the proud old man let his son think this. His forbears had ever been ready for whatsoever duty had been demanded of them, and far be it from him to whimper because his son had been chosen for a position of great responsibility and some risk. Were there not many officers at the present moment in similar craft, risking their lives daily for the honour of serving their King and country? So it was out of the question for a Montgomery to draw back.
Yet undoubtedly there were fatal accidents continually cropping up on board these little vessels. Either it was a life lost through some mishap to the machinery, or, as had happened once or twice, the boat had dived to rise no more, of its own accord, at any rate.
"Well, Gerald, my son," said the old man, after they had been talking for sometime, "of course there is no need for me to remind you that you are a Montgomery, but, as such, remember that into whatever position your duty may lead you, do it without hesitation and at any cost to yourself. You are serving your King and Country, and don't forget, my lad, the captain is always the last to leave the ship!"
The ten days were soon at an end, and Gerald was once more preparing to obey the call of duty. After bidding a fond farewell to his mother and sisters, his luggage having gone on ahead, he and his father walked together to the station. Here they stood chatting until the train came in and Gerald took his seat.
"Well, good-bye, father; I shall hope to be home again soon, even if it is only just for a week-end."
"Good-bye, my boy," had replied Captain Montgomery, and then, as the train started to move, he added: "God bless you, my son; never forget our old motto, 'For King and Country'; and, lad, remember the captain is the last to leave the ship."
When the train had moved off, Gerald sat down, and drawing out the papers he had brought with him, gave himself up to reading. Try how he would, however, those last words of his father's would keep ringing in his ears.
"For King and Country" and "The captain is the last man to leave the ship." It was no good, they came between his eyes and the paper he was endeavouring to peruse; so he flung it aside, and watched the country as it passed his window.
"For King and Country." Even now he caught himself chanting this in a monotone to the accompaniment of the "Rack-a-tak-tak" of the wheels as they glided over the rails, and it was with a sigh of relief that he got out at his destination and proceeded to report himself at the dockyard.
It took Gerald but a very short time to settle down and get thoroughly used to his new life.
He found that a pleasant cabin had been apportioned to him on the parent ship, for the submarine crews only repair on board those tiny craft for cleaning purposes, drill, or cruising. The rest of their time is spent on the mother-ship, a first-class cruiser, alongside which her small charges are made fast.
After a fortnight's drill and cruising, Gerald was as much at home on board B 7 as he was in his father's study; in fact, it was very little indeed he did not know that concerned his tiny command, either in the way of navigation, propelling, or torpedoing. He was all the more pleased with this result, as the manœuvres were to be held very shortly, and he was most desirous of giving a good account of himself during the mimic war.
Already the fleets had mobilised, and preparations were being hurried on in all departments.
For the smaller craft there was to be an attack on Queenstown by a squadron of battleships, the harbour being guarded by destroyers, torpedo boats, and submarines. Gerald's boat was to be amongst these latter, and he was looking forward with almost boyish excitement to the attack.
Five days before the fight was to take place found them in Queenstown Harbour, after a by no means pleasant trip from Portsmouth. All small defects, however, which developed during the voyage, were quickly set right, and everything put in order for the momentous day.
Early in the morning in question final preparations were made, orders were given, and then the small flotilla of destroyers and submarines departed to guard the entrance of the harbour.
About midday the attacking squadron was sighted bearing towards the harbour, and keeping up a heavy cannonade, which was replied to by the forts and shore batteries.
As they drew nearer, orders were given for the submarines to prepare to dive and torpedo them, whilst the destroyers distracted their attention by a feint attack.
Gerald gave his orders for diving, and down they went into the greeny cold light, each man at his post, tense with excitement. Little they heeded their cramped quarters so long as they could torpedo one of the enemy.
On they went, the little electric engines sending them through the water at about eight knots an hour, no part of the vessel being visible above the surface of the water, for even the "periscope" by which Gerald was enabled to steer was so small and insignificant as to pass unheeded beneath the gaze of the watchful men on the battleship.
Presently Gerald got the image of the ship for which he was making on the little picture in front of him, and, going straight at her directly he got within range, ordered the torpedo to be fired, then turning, he sped away for the harbour entrance once more.
By the time he arrived at his destination they were all feeling a bit dizzy, but put this down to the fact of being below so long, so it was with a feeling of relief that Gerald gave the necessary orders for rising to the surface. The engineer moved his levers, and they watched for it to grow lighter. But to their surprise the darkness became more intense.
What was the matter? Quick as a flash Gerald turned to the indicator. They were sinking instead of rising!
Calmly he turned to the engineer and told him what was happening. The engineer reversed the levers; they only sank the faster! All combinations they tried, but with no avail. Slowly but surely they sank till at last the vessel was resting on the bed of the ocean.
The order was given for all to turn to and discover what was wrong, for their very lives were at stake.
During the examination several of the men were almost overcome by a drowsy feeling, the meaning of which they knew only too well, and eventually the engineer turned to Gerald with a look of despair in his eyes.
"Its no good, sir, the mechanism actuating the rising and sinking ballast tanks has broken up. We can do nothing but wait for the chance that they may miss us, otherwise--"
His significant pause brought home to everyone their awful position.
For half-an-hour they waited whilst the engineer still tried all kinds of plans to make the tanks work, when suddenly one of the crew toppled over, and lay as one dead, while others looked as if their turn to be seized would not be long in coming.
Gerald gauged the air, and to his consternation found that instead of having many hours' supply still left there was only about a quarter of an hour's all told.
This, then, accounted for their dizziness. But how was it? There was no leakage possible.
Through some oversight they must have omitted to replenish the supply from the parent ship that morning.
What an awful thing. Half-a-dozen lives to be sacrificed for one man's momentary forgetfulness.
A thought flashed across Gerald's brain, and with him to think was to act.
Experiments had recently been completed by which it was proved possible to discharge men from the torpedo tube, and so give them a chance of rising to the surface. Immediately Gerald gathered his crew around him, informed them of the limited air supply, and that they must make ready to take their last chance of saving their lives.
It was the coxswain who first broke the silence.
"Very good, sir," he said, "but, as you are aware, the last man cannot shoot himself out of the tube, sir. His fate is sealed, so we must settle amongst ourselves who that last man is to be."
A murmur of approval greeted this speech, but Gerald immediately replied:
"Come, you waste time with your suggestions. That matter is settled. As captain of the boat I remain till last. Now, come on number one, and don't let me hear any more about the last man."
So saying he got the mechanism in order, and the first man, after taking a sorrowful farewell of his commander and comrades, entered the tube, and was ejected on his journey to the surface. Then each in his turn took his place, and Gerald quickly sent them off.
When he had dispatched the last of them, he quickly turned to the air gauge, and found that now, with only one man breathing, there was enough to last just over an hour. Then he gave himself over to his thoughts.
If they were lucky enough to rise to the surface alive, would they be able to attract help in time to rescue him? Then, again, how could they rescue him, even if they did their utmost?
* * * * *
When B 7 was eventually raised after great trouble, and towed into the harbour, Gerald was found sitting at his post with his sightless eyes fixed on the picture board.
The first person to enter the rescued boat found a piece of paper on this board on which were scrawled the words:
Good-bye, all. For King and Country.
G. MONTGOM—
and here it had trailed off as if the writer had been overcome by sleep.
On learning of his son's sad fate, old Captain Montgomery took to his bed, sorely stricken.
"The line is broken," he murmured continually. "The line is broken. There is no one left to carry on the family name now."
Later, when they brought him the few words scrawled by Gerald, he turned to his weeping wife and daughters with a glow of pride in his fast-failing eyes.
"Ah!" he said, "the old spirit; I knew Gerald would add honour to the name if he had the chance. The line was not broken worthlessly for King and Country! Yes, my boy, my Gerald, for King and Country. Well done, indeed. You saved all the others for their King and Country, and your name will not be forgotten."
With this he fell back exhausted, and seemed to slumber for a while. Suddenly a change came over him. Raising himself on his elbow, life seemed to come back to him, and in a strong voice he shouted:
"Aye, aye, Gerald, you and I, we remembered the old saying: 'The captain's the last to leave the ship!" I am coming now, Gerald. The line is broken, so I can leave this ship of life now. I am the last. Here I am, Gerald! Ah—h!"
And so his proud old spirit fled to meet that of his valiant son.