The ship, towed to Lyness after being raised, lay alongside von der Tann, but for the tow to Rosyth three German tugs were used: See Falke, 4,000 horsepower, equipped with diesel engines and described by experts as ‘a particularly imposing vessel’, See Teufel, 1,500 horsepower, and Parnass, 700 horsepower.
After leaving Lyness pier, See Falke and See Teufel went ahead with 120 fathoms of tow out. Parnass was on the starboard side, and Cox’s small boat Ferrodanks on the port side.
The hulk was an extremely difficult tow and she kept veering more than 45 degrees on either side of the course. Cantock Head was cleared with great difficulty, and only the power of See Falke saved her from being carried ashore by the spring tide on to the point there. When they were clear of the rip tides in Pentland Firth, the tow was veered for the sea passage and the tugs took up new stations: See Falke on the port bow, See Teufel on the starboard bow, with Parnass towing ahead of See Teufel.
For her tow, See Falke used 90 fathoms of 18-inch manila rope, 120 fathoms of six-inch wire and 45 fathoms of two-inch studded cable made fast to the hulk. See Teufel’s tow was similar, except that four and a half-inch wire was used. When this long tow was veered the hulk still sheered nearly as much as before, though she remained on each sheer for longer periods. They made headway at about two and a half knots.
Bad weather and fog delayed them on the journey. They reached the Forth Bridge at about 15.50 hrs on the afternoon of 11 May 1932, and arrived at the lock entrance to Rosyth dockyard 75 minutes later when Prinzregent Luitpold was placed in the lock at high water. She was then floating upwards with a freeboard of from 18 to 20 feet and was found to be remarkably airtight after her rough voyage. Then it was found she had to be lifted another 18 inches before she could pass over the inner sill to the basin and so into the dock. But the task of docking her was by no means over.
To allow the vessel to settle, four crushing blocks had to be built. These consisted of solid masses of timber with steel cover plates so disposed that when the hulk settled, four of the turrets would bear on them. Then divers had to build up blocks to support the ship throughout her length. This was a very long operation as in many places the blocks had to be built up to a height of 15 feet. There was an overpowering stench in dry dock from rotten weeds and dead fish out of the ship and there were always gulls swooping down for the mussels scraped off the hull.
This was the last ship of the German fleet raised by Cox, and she was the largest vessel ever salved at such a depth by the use of compressed air. An expert on the staff of The Engineer who inspected the ship on her safe arrival stated in his report, ‘We were struck by the excellence of the teamwork which we believe has played, and will again, no small part in the success of these salvage operations.’
Cox’s eight years’ salvage work left him £10,000 out of pocket, though the scrap-metal side of his business had been extremely profitable. In all, he had lifted 26 destroyers, six battleships and a light cruiser. After he retired, he spent much of his time giving lectures on his work for the benefit of charitable institutions. But gradually his health and strength began to fail, though he was 76 when he died, in 1959.
Before long, Hitler gave orders that the German tugs were not to be used in the ignominious task of raising German ships for scrap, and they were withdrawn. Their place was taken by Dutch tugs, and Captain Vet, an experienced sailor of fine qualities, was the chief tugmaster.
11
Metal Industries Ltd Takes Over
THE FIRM WHICH TOOK over where Cox left off was Metal Industries Ltd who had been buying and breaking up ships raised by Cox & Danks. It may be wondered why they should have undertaken the lifting of even more difficult wrecks, knowing how costly the operations had been to Cox. But Robert W. McCrone, the company’s managing director, was a man as determined and forceful as Cox, but far better equipped both mentally and technically, while both he and his chairman, Sir Donald Pollack, were excellent administrators, a field of industry which Cox had not cultivated particularly well, though he was always courageous, ingenious and willing to accept responsibility.
McCrone had little desire for personal publicity or public advancement, unlike Cox, of whom it was common knowledge that he had aspired to a knighthood. Robert McCrone was born in 1893 and was educated at Merchiston Castle School, Edinburgh, from which he passed on to the Royal Technical College, Glasgow. He had barely completed his articles of apprenticeship when World War I broke out. He was commissioned as an engineer in 400 Field Company, Royal Engineers, and served in France from 1915 until the end of the war, winning the Military Cross and gaining a mention in dispatches. After a period of attachment, with the rank of captain, to French Headquarters on the river Marne he was awarded the Croix de Guerre. After the war he worked for a time in Vickers Armstrong’s design office and was occupied on work connected with the dismantling of obsolete ships of the British fleet. Then followed two years’ work with the Granton Shipbuilding Co laying out yards etc. Before he was 30 years of age he had, therefore, acquired a sound practical and theoretical knowledge and was accustomed to handling men.
With two other men who had fought in World War I, he formed the Alloa Shipbreaking Company. One of his colleagues was Stephen Hardie, a chartered accountant, who later on became the first chairman of the Steel Board when the industry was nationalised. The other was Dr Donald Pollack, Surgeon Captain RNVR, who had Harley Street experience and later became Sir Donald Pollack. Pollack had valuable contacts with senior officials in the Admiralty as the result of his war service. These three men were known irreverently in the works as ‘The Three Musketeers’. McCrone soon stamped his personality upon his employees and was credited with the ability to recognise immediately the only machine in a workshop which might be operating at less than 100 per cent efficiency.
For various reasons, mainly connected with the depth of water at Alloa, the firm moved to Charleston down the Firth of Forth and took over the Rosyth Shipbreaking Company which had premises in the naval dockyard at Rosyth. These premises and other facilities were greatly extended, and the lease of a dry dock was obtained from time to time from the Admiralty for the breaking up of capital ships raised by Cox & Danks.
Metal Industries Ltd was formed in 1923 with McCrone as managing director, and Pollack as chairman. In 1950 Pollack retired and McCrone was appointed chairman in his place, a position he held until his retirement from the company in 1955. He became a director of British Oxygen Ltd, a member of the South of Scotland Electricity Board, a member of Lloyd’s, a governor of the Royal College of Science and Technology of which he was also an associate member, a BSc of Glasgow University, a member of the Institute of Civil Engineers and chairman of several other industrial concerns. Today he still serves on the board of various companies and occupies himself with a wide and remarkable variety of public and private interests.
Cox was unfortunate when the average price of scrap fell heavily; the new company could obtain double his prices. McCrone soon realised that other factors had contributed to the poor financial results of Cox’s salvage work. Much of his equipment was worn out and out-of-date, his salvage ships were no longer suitable; his air compression pumps were inadequate for their tasks; his labour force was not used to the best advantage because of the obsolescent equipment and uneconomic methods. The new firm acquired first Cox’s interests and then his equipment, the main item of value being the floating dock. They also acquired his labour force, including that indispensable figure, McKenzie. Cox had employed some 200 men but, as the work went on, the new firm increased this force by 50 per cent.
At no time was there any difficulty in the recruitment of labour, especially in the hungry 1930s when elsewhere there was considerable unemployment. The wages were not particularly high by comparison with industrial rates generally, but the promise of long-term employment at elevenpence halfpenny an hour for a 48-hour week with free accommodation was attractive. In practice there were no fixed hours, and overtime was worked willingly when
ever required. In addition, whenever work in a ship’s compartment was completed at a cost less than the estimated cost, half the saving was paid as a bonus to the crew concerned. McKenzie, employed at a comparatively low salary for a man of his ability, also received a handsome bonus of £5,000 on each ship lifted. He raised the company’s eyebrows when once he lifted two ships in the same year.
The work held attractions other than guaranteed employment: comradeship engendered by living and working together for long years; the fact that a man could see his job through from start to finish; the deep satisfaction when the bows of a sunken ship broke surface in a spectacular eruption of water, oil and expanding air. The successful end to a difficult task was there for a man to see, and his excitement was renewed with each succeeding lift. The ever-present dangers spiced the hours of long, hard work. Labour relations were excellent, and during the whole of the salvage operations there was only one strike for better conditions, and that lasted for precisely ten minutes. Although Metal Industries was the first firm in Great Britain to manufacture liquid oxygen, this gas was not used in the lifting or breaking up of the ships for which gaseous oxygen was used. This was delivered to the ships through pipes so that no transportation costs were involved.
The new firm began energetically. The works were completely reorganised. Oxygen had been a considerable expense to Cox. The new firm made its own, but produced it in liquid form. This was easier to transport, cheaper in price and more convenient in every way. For example, oxygen could now be piped direct as required to the ships, and Metal Industries’ 100 blowpipes had all the gas they needed; their new oxy-acetylene burners were operated by only two men compared with the gang of 25 previously needed. Liquid oxygen was also sold to other firms, thus helping to reduce overhead charges. The sturdy Ferrodanks was found to have outlived her useful life and was scrapped. Mary Cowie, a drifter, and the white motor boat, Doris, were bought for taking men to and from work.
Pollack, too, was a shrewd business man. For example, he visited steel works in Germany, arranged sales of scrap metal which he had cut into blocks of a suitable size to suit their furnaces, and it was he who decided that the ships raised by Cox were bought only after they had been safely docked, thus leaving Cox to bear the expensive insurance on them during the long tow. He, too, had many interests, and among them he was a vice-principal of Edinburgh University.
It was widely said that where Cox had failed, Metal Industries could not hope to succeed, yet with their more modern methods and equipment, and with better administration, they were able to make an average profit of £50,000 per ship.
Bertha, later converted for use as a salvage vessel by the Grangemouth Dockyard Company, was bought from the Southern Railway. Four compressors capable of pumping 2,500 cubic feet per minute were installed in her. She was also fitted with dynamos, workshops and everything necessary for the heavy work ahead. Her sheer legs and cables could lift 25 tons.
Then McCrone visited the Admiralty and bought Bayern for £1,000. Subsequent ships cost the company £2,000 each. Baden, which had been beached in a sinking condition, and Bayern of the same class, had both been completed by Germany in 1916 and were the reply to England’s Queen Elizabeth class. They were the first German battleships to carry 15-inch guns firing 1,653-pound shells. They also differed in some respects from the König class: for example, the central barbette was suppressed and the positions of the after boiler room and engine rooms were transposed. Baden had not originally been earmarked for surrender, but was substituted for Mackensen which, in fact, was never completed.
When work began on Bayern some trouble was encountered and a Glasgow naval architect, Dr Douglas, was called in for advice. Later, when work was put in hand on Grosser Kurfürst, the second ship, Metal Industries decided that they needed a permanent member on their staff with naval architectural experience, and they employed Mr J. Robertson who returned from Canada in 1933. As this side of the work did not occupy the major part of his time, he worked inside the ships while they were at the bottom of the sea. When McKenzie suggested that Robertson should learn how to dive, he found a ready pupil. Describing his first dive, Robertson said that he dressed in the diving-boat near Grosser Kurfürst which lay by Lyness pier and, in heavy boots and corselet, stumbled to the ladder at the bottom of which an experienced diver waited for him at the rope leading from the ladder to the bottom 40 feet below. The weights were put on, then the helmet. Air was turned on, the face plate secured, and he was in a world of his own, feeling somewhat apprehensive. However, confidence returned when, seeing the diver waiting for him, he left the ladder and swung on to the rope, after which he enjoyed every moment of this new experience. The water was clear and visibility good. He was taken under the ship where everything was in shadow. He had some difficulty in seeing as his air had purposely been left somewhat low so that he would not ‘blow up’ (too much air could lift a diver to the surface). Unexpectedly he found himself on a piece of rope left between the guns of ‘A’ turret and promptly fell off. He learned later that the other diver held him by the arm and, after blowing air into his own helmet, got them both safely to the bottom. Later, when he had learned how to walk about, he was taken out into Scapa Flow, though he never attained the skill of an experienced diver.
Robertson, like others, pays a high tribute to the skill and endurance of the divers who worked both as divers and as foremen inside the ships. Outside the ship they worked in depths up to 200 feet in standard diving suits. The usual procedure adopted was for a diving party to survey the next ship to be lifted while the previous one was being prepared for her tow to Rosyth. Having located the ship, after survey they marked off the sections. Then from prepared drawings they fixed the position of each air-lock and made arrangements for fastening the guys. When the first air-lock in position could be used, work inside the ship began with the diver now acting as foreman in charge of the pressure workers. For this work he wore long sea-boots and oilskins. Meanwhile other divers were fitting the remaining air-locks and securing them with guys.
If a ‘blow’, or leak, occurred in a compartment, the diver would have to don his diving gear again and go down into the ship to seal it. When the ship was lifted and taken further inshore, it was the divers again who had to cut away turrets, mast and parts of the superstructure with explosives before the wreck could be brought as near to Lyness pier as was desirable. They also had to accompany the ‘runner’ crew, as they were termed, who lived on the hulk during the tow to Rosyth where they shored and fitted the ship in dry dock ready for the breakers. First on the job at Scapa Flow, they were last off at Rosyth.
Like so many of the ships, Bayern lay bottom up in 20 fathoms of water. She had a list of nine degrees and it was decided that the only way to raise her was again by the use of compressed air. At ordinary spring tides, 65 feet of water surged over her forward and some 85 feet aft.
Seven air-locks were fitted to her bottom to give access to the hull. They were enormous towering cylinders 70 to 90 feet in height, tapering from the base which had a diameter of seven feet. The longest weighed 20 tons, which presented the divers with a difficult job. They were built in 10-foot sections with ‘resting’ platforms every 20 feet, and with ladders both inside and outside. After they had been tested at Lyness to withstand a pressure of 90 pounds per square inch, they were towed out to Bayern in one piece to minimise the diving work in deep water. The seven sections into which the ship was divided enabled trim and stability to be maintained.
Figure 3. Bayern – subdivision and position of airlocks.
The divers had a tough time while the air-locks were being fixed. Two dozen cleats, or eye plates, had first to be bolted to the hull for guy fastenings. A circle of temporary holes was drilled accurately off a template, and all holes tapped and plate washers studded into them to take the bottom flange of the airlock. As soon as it was lowered, two divers clamped down the lower flange with the plate washers. Meanwhile other divers passed up the ends of the wire guys to m
en on top of the airlock. Working feverishly, these men made the wire guys bar-tight with stretching, or bottle, screws. These screws embody two spindles, one with a right-hand thread, the other with a left-hand thread. Both are in a common casing, and when the screw is rotated, it either tightens or slackens the attached guy as required. Then divers drilled permanent holes through the ship’s bottom, using the lower flange as a template. When this work was completed – and it had to be done on all seven airlocks – water inside the air-locks and working chambers was expelled by air pressure. A manhole was then drilled through the hull and a similar hole through the tank top. Oxy-acetylene cutters could not be used because of combustible gases.
The seven sections, an air-lock to each, had then to be made watertight. A tremendous amount of work was involved in tightening bulkheads. Hundreds of pipes of various sizes were cut out and blanked. Ventilator casings from a few inches to several feet in size were cut away by hand, apertures in bulkheads blanked off and all kinds of valves dismantled so that leakage could be dealt with; doors were strengthened. All this work was performed in pressures ranging from 40 to 55 pounds per square inch, and men in wading dresses often worked in water up to their necks. Precautions were taken against foul air, for oxygen in the air had been used up by microscopic animal life. Towards the end of the work conditions were so bad that foul air could only be got rid of by exhausting some of the sections to atmospheric pressure. It was considered that the remarkable freedom from accidents during the operation was due to the full-time employment of a qualified chemist. This man was Cowan, a convivial soul, popular with everyone, especially at the parties which Metal Industries instituted to celebrate each successful lift. He was a member of the dance committee, and at the dances produced an overpowering concoction of his own which he named ‘Nelson’s blood’. The mention of Cowan’s name is still enough to draw a smile from those who worked with him. Cowan took daily samples of the air in any compartment of the wreck where men were working, and tested them to ascertain if they contained traces of the highly explosive gas, methane, which was generated from rotting vegetable matter when air was pumped in. The equipment he took down could not have been simpler – a few penny balloons and a bicycle pump to inflate them partially. With these he entered the airlock to take his decompression along with the shift coming out of the wreck. This would take between three-quarters and one and a half hours. As the air-lock pressure fell, the balloons expanded, and Cowan used to give the men a salutary lesson on the necessity for undergoing the full requisite compression period by explaining in picturesque language that what was happening to the balloons was happening in exactly the same way to their insides while they were being decompressed.
From Jutland to Junkyard: The raising of the scuttled German High Seas Fleet from Scapa Flow - the greatest salvage operation of all time Page 12