The Custom of the Trade

by Shaun Lewis

  ‘You can’t do this, Number One,’ O’Connell interrupted.

  ‘Hush, Pilot. Hear me out.’ He began stripping. ‘I’ve never met a finer navigator, but do you really think we would make it back through the Narrows without Miller? I’m not the one to take his place. If he is truly dead, then we are in a rather unfortunate position. But what if he’s alive? That is why I’m going back.’ He turned to the Coxswain.

  ‘I wonder, Coxswain, if I might prevail upon you to take charge of the casing party once we’ve surfaced.’

  ‘It would be me pleasure, sir,’ Haines replied.

  Five minutes later, E9 surfaced on the outer side of the breakwater. The Turkish gunners valiantly tried to hit the submarine, but their shells either hit the already damaged mole or overshot. Steele delayed only to shake hands with O’Connell. Both wished each other luck and seconds later Steele dived into the sea, towing a length of rope behind him. To his surprise, the shelling stopped and no rifle fire was directed his way. He wondered if the Turks had honour, after all. The distance to the captain’s corpse was only some fifty yards and he covered it comfortably. Carefully, he tied a loop of the rope around the body and waved to the casing party to begin the task of hauling it in. As an afterthought, he collected the floating cap and was again struck by the absence of shelling. He looked into the harbour and searched out the pier on which the field gun was established. To his surprise, he noted the gunners were standing at attention and the officer in command was saluting. He almost wept at the tribute and, with the captain’s cap, waved to the gunners before resuming his swim back to his submarine.

  The men on the casing gently hauled their former CO’s body up onto the casing and Steele followed up the jumping ladder they had rigged for his benefit. Contrary to O’Connell’s report of Miller’s injury, his head seemed to be intact and far from being half-blown away, but the eyes were caked in blood. One of the sailors tenderly wiped away some of the blood with fresh water. Miller’s death mask appeared to be peaceful. It was almost as if he had just fallen asleep. Unsure what he should do next, Steele placed the cap on his late captain’s chest. The new gold braid on its peak still shone brightly, despite the dunking in the sea. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes and he fought to control his emotions in front of the men.

  ‘Coxswain, please take the captain down below and lay him out in the fore-ends. We’re going to take him back to Mudros for a proper burial.’ He began to climb back up to the bridge.

  ‘Aye, sir,’ Haines replied quietly. ‘You just leave him to me. I’ll look after him.’

  As a formality, Haines checked for a pulse in the carotid artery. Suddenly, he became animated. ‘Look lively, you lot. Get the skipper down below, and gently. He’s alive!’

  Steele jumped back to the casing and checked for himself.

  ‘You feel it, sir?’ Haines asked, almost beseechingly. ‘It’s faint, but it’s there.’

  ‘My Lord, Coxswain, you’re absolutely right. Get him below and into some warm clothes. From now on, Coxswain, your sole responsibility is to watch over the captain. You have no other duties. Understood?’

  ‘Aye aye, sir. Gladly.’

  Chapter 28

  ‘There bain’t be no prospect of you goin’ to a dance for a while, sir. Not looking like thart.’ Coxswain Haines washed the wound again with great tenderness before applying a clean dressing. Richard was barely conscious, but he was alive. The whole of the left side of his face was swollen. To add to the scar he had sustained escaping from D2, a livid, jagged gash further marred his looks, from the temple to the cheek bone.

  Richard muttered something incomprehensible as Haines laid his head back on a pillow of spare clothing.

  ‘How is he faring, ’swain,’ Steele asked. Richard was lying in a bunk in the Petty Officers’ Mess, aft of the control room, as Haines had reckoned it would offer fewer distractions than the wardroom.

  ‘I reckon ’e’ll come through, sir. His pulse seems steady enough an’ ’e’s young. Mind, his face’ll soon turn black and blue once the bruising comes through. ’e won’t be no pretty sight for a while, I reckons.’

  ‘But what of the shrapnel? Is there any lodged in his skull? And what of the eye?’

  ‘I’m no expert, sir. Jus’ done my basic first aid training like you ’as, sir, but I reckons there bain’t be no shrapnel there, sir. Too early to say about the eye, though.’ In the absence of any medical staff, first aid was the province of the First Lieutenant and Coxswain.

  ‘Very well. Keep him comfortable as best you can. I shall be in the control room.’

  ‘D’ye not need me, sir?’

  ‘No, thank you, ’swain. We need the captain fit and well for the return through the Narrows. It’s more important that you tend to him. For the rest of the day I intend exercising the ship’s company in one of the captain’s schemes and tonight we will make contact with the Jed, report the captain’s injury and take our orders. We’re due the recall any day.’

  The day after the raid on Panderma, HMS E9 was lying off Marmara Island, her usual spot for rest and recreation during her patrols. The men were well rested, all had had the chance to bathe and the batteries were fully charged. Steele thought it a good opportunity to experiment with a drill he and Richard had cooked up to ease the problem of resupply of torpedoes.

  By now E9 was down to her last three torpedoes, two in the beam tubes and one in the stern tube. Firstly, the torpedo operators withdrew one of the beam torpedoes and set it not to run on firing. It had already been adjusted so that it did not automatically sink at the end of its firing run. The torpedo was then fired harmlessly into the sea and it floated to the surface as planned. Steele manoeuvred the submarine alongside the floating torpedo and the casing party hoisted it inboard using the derrick. Meanwhile, the torpedo loading rails were rigged over the loading hatch. The torpedo was lowered down the rails, as if alongside the depot ship, and stowed in the fore-ends, ready for cleaning and preparation for loading into one of the empty bow tubes. The evolution took nearly an hour. Steele was not happy.

  ‘TI this isn’t going to work. We need to think of another idea.’

  The TI, a Glaswegian, seemed to agree. ‘Aye, I ken the problem. It’s no’ the time it teks, but the time yon loading rails is rigged.’

  ‘Exactly. We can’t risk having the hatched fouled for such a length of time. If the Turks had had an aeroplane up today, we would have been caught with our trousers down. I wondered about using the stern tube. What say you?’

  ‘Weel, it mebbe possible, but it’d need the boat trimmed down aft, right enough. We kid gi’it a go. We’ll jus’ need a wee bit o’ time t’ prepare the tube fish feerst, sir.’

  ‘No problem, TI. I’ll give you until after lunch and we’ll try it this afternoon. I’ll need six volunteers to join me in the water.’

  He went below to the POs’ mess. He was delighted to see that Richard had regained consciousness. Haines was taking his nursing duties seriously and would only allow a short visit. He had neatly bandaged his patient’s head such that only the good eye was showing.

  ‘Hallo, sir. I am mighty relieved to see you back in the world of the living. How are you feeling?’

  ‘As if I’ve been ten rounds with Jack Johnson. I’m afraid I won’t be fit for duty for a while. How are you coping?’

  ‘We’re managing, sir.’ He briefed Richard on the morning’s evolutions and his plans for the afternoon and evening, but it soon became apparent that Richard’s attention was wandering.

  ‘You mustn’t overtire the captain, sir.’ Haines intervened. ‘I told yer to stick to a short visit.’

  Steele gestured to Haines to join him in the control room. ‘How is he bearing up, Coxswain?’

  ‘I don’t rightly know, sir. His ’ead’s sore, like you’d expect, but he won’t take no grub, sir. Says it makes ’im feel sick.’

  ‘Very well. I’ll look in on him again tonight. Keep up the good work, ’swain.’

&nb
sp; The torpedomen had had little time for lunch. Steele had insisted that they could not eject the stern torpedo until the previously recovered one was dried, cleaned, prepared for firing and loaded in the starboard bow tube. The men had then had to withdraw the stern torpedo, adjust it so that it would not run on launch and reload it in its home. This had taken several hours. In the meantime, Steele trimmed the boat down by the stern so that the stern torpedo cap was underwater. When the TI confirmed he and his team were ready, they fired the torpedo from its tube. Steele and the other swimmers then entered the water and secured the floating torpedo with steadying lines. They turned the torpedo through 180 degrees, so that its nose now faced the submarine, and guided it towards the open outer tube cap. With some gentle rocking and pushing they were able to guide the tin fish until its head slotted correctly in the tube. It was now time to test the TI’s brainwave.

  Steele called up to the casing, ‘Start the pump.’

  The order was relayed to the torpedo operator in the after ends. He started the pump to begin draining the torpedo tube. The suction was enough to draw the torpedo smartly into the tube. The outer bow cap was shut, the tube drained and it was a relatively simple matter to open the inner door and withdraw the torpedo nose-first. With the aid of a winch and trolley the torpedo was then transported the entire length of the boat, to the fore-ends. Whilst it would still take some time to prepare the fish for the bow tube, the recovery operation had taken only a few minutes and at little risk to the submarine. Steele looked forward to debriefing the CO on the evolution.

  *

  That evening Steele returned to PD off the Gallipoli peninsular with great caution. The Turks were now wise to two elements of routine for submarines in the Sea of Marmora. Firstly, submarines had to return to this area to make wireless contact with the communications relay ship. Secondly, they knew that a submarine would be due to exit the sea on the homeward passage. Steele thought it likely the Turks might be lying in wait for him. Even after a careful sweep of the surrounding area through the periscope, he delayed surfacing until after it was very dark. He also closed up extra lookouts. Each time the submarine transmitted, long blue sparks and flashes were emitted from the bridge aerial, potentially giving away the submarine’s position to any sharp-eyed lookout. Accordingly, the news that the W/T office had received all incoming messages and transmitted their own came with great relief. As usual, he ‘bottomed’ the boat overnight on the dense, saline water barrier.

  He joined O’Connell in the wardroom. O’Connell had the responsibility of decoding the signals. ‘Anything of significance, Pontius?’ Steele asked.

  ‘I’ve still several to go through, but these two will interest you.’

  Steele leafed through the note book containing the signal decrypts. The first item of interest was the recall signal. E14 had signalled her safe arrival through the Strait and E9 was free to return when her CO deemed it prudent. Steele thought that they should make a start the following night, to give the captain more time to recover from his wound, but it was not his decision to make.

  The second signal he read with huge satisfaction. It commented on their earlier foray into the harbour of Constantinople. It was reported that they had sunk a troop ship and the rogue torpedo had exploded against the Customs House Quay. More importantly, panic had ensued amidst fears that the entire Allied fleet had arrived and there were rumours that the Sultan and his ministers had moved to the Asiatic side of the city. Four troop ships had disembarked their troops and all sailings had been cancelled. All the E-boats were now encouraged to follow up on this success. He left O’Connell to finish the decryption of the remaining signals and walked aft to see the captain.

  *

  Dawn was already breaking as E9 approached the entrance to the Strait for the beginning of their journey home. Richard had ignored his First Lieutenant’s advice and decided to commence the return on the same night of the receipt of the recall signal. One of the later signals to be received had reported that the Heirreddin Barbarossa was at anchor off Nagara Point. The battleship was the sister ship of the Turgut Reiss, the ship E9 had sunk on her first penetration of the Strait in May. Richard assessed the men to be sufficiently rested, the batteries were topped up and he didn’t want to allow an opportunity to sink another battleship to slip him by. His one concession, drawn more by Coxswain Haines than Steele, was that he would spend much of the passage resting in the wardroom and only come to the control room for key moments. In fact, it had not been difficult for Richard to make the concession. He still felt very weak and moving his head was not only painful, but made him dizzy. Moreover, he thought it would be valuable experience for his second-in-command to take on more of the responsibility for the tricky navigation.

  Richard witnessed Steele dive the submarine and took the periscope once the boat was settled at twenty feet. Even though his good eye, the right eye, was not bandaged, he still found it difficult to focus on the outside world. The strain made his head hurt further. Before handing over to Steele he was pleased to note that the sea surface was ruffled by a fresh breeze. This would reduce the potential for an obvious periscope feather. He also observed that the men were not only cheerful at the prospect of a return to Mudros, but very confident about their prospects for overcoming the coming perils. Again he felt a pang of regret that he might command such men for only a couple more days. With the help of the outside stoker, he staggered over to his bunk and listened to the quiet exchange of orders and acknowledgements as the submarine entered the Strait. The calmness of the exchanges and the peaceful atmosphere combined to send him off to sleep.

  After what seemed only a few minutes later, he was woken by a gentle shake from O’Connell.

  ‘Excuse me, sir. I’m sorry to wake you, but we’re off Chardak Liman to port. The First Lieutenant wants your permission to dive to ninety feet to pass under the first set of minefields.’

  ‘So soon? What time is it, Pilot?’ Richard was confused.

  ’09.15, sir. We’re a few minutes ahead of schedule.’

  Richard found it hard to credit that he had been asleep for over five hours, but he felt better for it. ‘Very well, but give me a hand to the control room. And bring the camp chair with you.’

  Steele took the submarine underneath the nets and minefield without incident and brought her back to PD. Richard tried to concentrate on the situation, but often found himself dozing. In his moments of lucidity he considered Steele’s performance. He was handling the submarine with tremendous confidence and competence. The men, too, seemed very assured without displaying overconfidence. Indeed, he felt a pang of jealousy. He knew he was offering little by way of contribution to the smooth running of the submarine and wondered if he was now superfluous. Was that how command worked? You honed the crew’s skills to a point where they no longer needed you. Perhaps it was time for him to hand over his command, after all. Steele interrupted his moment of self-pity.

  ‘There are some steamers and dhows lying off Lampsaki, sir. Do you fancy a shot at them, sir?’

  Richard could not even be bothered to look through the periscope for himself. His head hurt too much.

  ‘I think not, Number One. I don’t want to waste any fish. Let’s save the effort for warships or troop ships. Take a look instead at Karakova.’

  The port of Lampsaki was on the Asiatic side of the Strait, whereas Karakova was an anchorage on the Gallipoli peninsular. On finding nothing there either, E9 zig-zagged down the Strait, searching the bays and anchorages on either side. Already the atmosphere was fuggy, but the men didn’t seem to mind. As far as they were concerned, the hunt was on and they fully intended to quarter their quarry to the death. As the boat approached the Moussa Bank on the southern coast, they at last had a scent of their prey. O’Connell was on the periscope to give Steele a break.

  ‘Bearing that. Large liner, range 4000 yards.’ Everyone’s ears pricked up at the report. This time Richard forced himself up to take a look for himself. After plotting suc
cessive bearings on the chart, the control room team concluded that the ship was stationary and probably at anchor. Steele approached to within 500 yards of her and confirmed that she was empty. He ordered both bow tubes to be flooded, but refrained from opening the bow shutters and caps. Richard was tempted to allow Steele to complete the attack. It would be good experience for him to gain his first kill. It was an easy shot, but he only had three torpedoes left and wanted to keep them in hand, in case he came across the Barbarossa. He explained his reasoning to Steele and was sorry to see the obvious disappointment in his eyes.

  Slowly, the submarine navigated the Strait and crossed to the northern shore to avoid the shoals off Nagara Point. Richard felt much better. The prospect of an attack on the liner had shaken off his lethargy and he was now keyed up for the possibility of further action. This time he relieved Steele on the periscope himself, leaving O’Connell to focus on the tricky navigation. Almost immediately, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Whilst the Point obscured his view of the anchorage on the other side, he could see the tell-tale plumes of smoke disappearing over the horizon. He recognised the phenomenon. Something large was shelling the troops on the beaches. It had to be the Barbarossa.

  ‘Open One and Two tubes’ bow caps and shutters.’ He did not have to explain any more. The men knew he must have a ‘heavy’ in his sights.

  ‘Group up. Half ahead. Port ten. Steer that.’

  ‘170 degrees,’ the periscope assistant called. The submarine had now rounded the Point and Richard could see the battleship at anchor in the middle of a gunnery shoot. A number of other vessels were milling about her, including two destroyers.

  ‘Sorry, Number One, to have spoiled your chances of sinking a troop ship, but this one’s mine. Down.’