On one raft Kendrick was bent over a man with huge wounds, doing what he could with a few bits of lint and a roll or two of bandage. Gibbs was on the other raft bandaging a man who had lost an eye.
‘I knew ‘e was bad news,’ said Greenwood, floating near Elphick in the dark sea. ‘E chased that E-boat near enough into the minefield. Our minefield! Can’t tell the difference between hunting down one of his foxes and messing with mines.’
‘What a bastard!’ responded Elphick.
‘Better be his last bloody command.’
‘Don’t you bank on it. He sent two E-boats to the bottom. That’ll be enough to put him back on a bridge.’
‘So what does he have to do for their Lordships to put him into pen pushing?’
‘Haven’t a clue, but he’ll get another ship. I’ll put a week’s rum ration on it.’
‘Done. Pity the poor sods who sail with him.’
Able seaman Allsopp paddled over to the two men.
‘Where’s Hancock?’
‘He was near us a while back,’ replied Elphick.
‘Hancock! Hancock!’ – There was no reply.
Elphick paddled off and took a look at some of the men nearby. He found Hancock and shook and slapped him, desperately shouting: ‘Hancock! Wake up! Wake up!’ There was no response.
‘He’s gone,’ called out Elphick.
Others went, too, in the freezing water as they waited for dawn and the hope of rescue.
Death on the rafts was more obvious. You could tell when a man went. A strange stillness – no breath, no twitches, no moans or sighs – would come over him. On Phillips’s raft, Slingsby, Carpenter and Summers all went, one by one. Each dead man was tipped over into the sea and the cry, ‘Room for one more!’ would go up.
Whether it was colder in the sea or on the rafts, no one could tell. Everyone knew about the numbing agony of the icy sea, but the rafts had their own torment. The cold waves splashed up on the men and the freezing wind sucked every spark of warmth from their bodies.
Ross was on a float with about twenty men. At first they had talked, then the talk subsided to a low chatter, but now, after an hour, the float was strangely quiet. ‘The men are going,’ he thought. He was determined to keep them conscious.
‘Right, lads, we’ve got to keep awake. It’s time for a song!’
He struck up, ‘Come all ye young fellows that follow the sea / to my way haye, blow the man down,’ but the men left the first verse to him.
‘Come on lads, second verse,’ and he struck up a faltering ‘I'm a deep water sailor just in from Hong Kong’.’
The men began to sing. It was hard work, but Ross kept them at it. After a while, one man, and then another, volunteered their own choice of songs.
***
With the first greyness of dawn, hope and despair alternated on the floats, on the boat and in the sea. Some men saw the half-light as a sign of rescue to come. Some saw only the numerous lifeless bodies drifting on the debris-strewn sea, and felt nothing but despair.
‘A ship!’ cried Gibbs.
It was fortunate that Ross’s raft had some dry flares. He lit one and its billowing red smoke soared over the desperate survivors.
Within minutes it was clear that the ship was coming towards the rafts. When perhaps a mile away, Ross felt it safe to use one more of the precious flares to confirm their position. The sight of the flare’s powerful pyrotechnic display roused a cheer in the traumatised men and a few began once more to talk to neighbours.
The patrol ship HMS Arundel came into sight, scrambling nets already down on both sides. Those in the water still able to swim quickly made their way over to the ship and were helped up the nets by ready hands. One by one the near lifeless men floating in the water were pulled into the boat and the men carried over to the Arundel. Several of the injured were taken up in cradles. Then the rafts were towed to the ship and the men hauled up onto Arundel’s deck.
***
Steadfast had been the last off the ship and was the last to go up the nets to the safety of Arundel’s crowded deck. As he came over the gunwale he straightened up and surveyed what was left of Defiant’s complement. All the officers? Yes. Chief Petty Officer? Yes. Quartermaster? Yes.
‘Christ!’ he yelled, ‘Elton, where’s Elton?’
Cries of, ‘Not here,’ came from some of the huddles on the deck.
‘Hell! He’s still locked up on Defiant! I’m going back.’
‘Phillips, Cole, can you take me over?’
Both men were not used to a request from their commander, but realised the guilt implicit in Steadfast’s appeal. Elton was Steadfast’s prisoner and it was he who had forgotten him when he gave the order to abandon ship.
Phillips and Cole glanced over to the flaming Defiant. The fire was no more than one-third of the way down the ship so Elton was well clear of danger for the moment.
‘Of course, sir,’ they replied in a condescending tone which fully conveyed their delight in the commander being under an obligation to them.
Steadfast turned to Lieutenant Commander Railton, Arundel’s captain: ‘May we borrow your boat for a while, Captain? I can’t ask any of your men to risk their necks in this one.’
‘It’s yours to command, Steadfast. I wish you luck.’
The boat was still in the water. Steadfast, Phillips and Cole clambered down the nets and boarded the craft. Phillips and Cole shipped the surplus oars and then rowed the short distance over to Defiant with Steadfast at the tiller.
‘We’ll go for that net aft,’ he explained.
Fortunately the wind was blowing the flames towards Defiant’s prow so there was little risk in tying up to the net aft.
As Steadfast prepared to climb the net, he turned to his oarsmen:
‘You two stay here. I’ve got a whistle. One blast means I’ve got Elton and I’m on my way back. Two blasts means I can’t get back and you’re to scarper. Read that back.’
The two men repeated Steadfast’s code and the commander romped up the net and disappeared over the shattered gunwale.
Defiant’s list was now about thirty-five degrees and the deck was covered in oily water plus the debris of the explosion. Each step that Steadfast took towards the lock-up where Elton had been since last night was a hazard in itself. Without a handhold he would slip back down the deck, so each move had to be planned with the greatest care, as if he were rock climbing on a particularly difficult face. Several times he slithered back a few steps when the bits of wire, rope and remnants of fittings came away in his hands. Each foot gained was bought at the cost of further lacerations to his now bleeding hands.
‘Elton, are you there?’
‘Yes, sir, what’s happening?’
‘Abandon ship – I’m coming to get you.’
When Steadfast reached the lock-up he took one look at the gigantic Royal Naval issue padlock and cursed the Navy’s efficiency. Only a deck axe would get that off, he thought.
It took several minutes for Steadfast to slither sideways along the deck to the nearest axe, and even longer to get back to Elton without dropping the heavy instrument. All the while, the heat of the creeping fire reminded him of the peril that the two men were now in.
‘I’ve got it, Elton. Stand back while I smash the lock.’
As Steadfast poised the raised axe to strike the blow that would release Elton, he felt Defiant shudder. The axe smashed down on the lock, which flew into the air just as Defiant lurched sharply in the direction of her list. Steadfast lost his foothold, the axe fell from his hand, and he slid down the deck back into the sea. His first instinct was to attempt to re-board the ship and complete his rescue of Elton. The damaged gunwale was now under water so Steadfast searched around for something to hold onto while he pulled himself up. After seizing a rather rough bit of damaged rail with his raw and bleeding hands, he began to attempt to pull his tired body up once more onto his dying ship. Barely had he begun to lift himself, when Defiant gave another shudder
. She was rolling over!
Steadfast let go and slipped into the water. Lying on his back, he kicked off against the moving deck of Defiant as hard as did his hunter when enraged by a yapping dog. He shot off from Defiant’s rolling carcass and neatly turned over in order to swim away from the ship. But his failing strength was no match for the sucking forces of Defiant. He disappeared beneath her gurgling vortex.
When Steadfast surfaced again his lungs were bursting. His heart pounded and his diaphragm beat like an out of control bass drum as his body cried out for air. When he had gathered enough strength to look around, all that he could see at first was the near to being upturned hull of Defiant. But no sign of Elton.
Phillips and Cole were still in the boat, waiting for Steadfast to return, or the two whistle blasts that would order them to flee. Steadfast had not been in view when he first boarded Defiant so they were unaware that a new disaster was unfolding. They noticed the first shift in Defiant’s list but thought little of it. So when the second shudder came, with the sudden switch to a roll, they were caught off guard.
‘She’s rolling!’ yelled Cole.
‘Hell, she’s going under!’ responded Phillips.
‘Cut the painter!’ screamed Cole from his end of the boat. Phillips fumbled in pockets, pulled out a knife and opened the blade. As the knife met the rope, Defiant made her final roll, taking the boat down into the deep. Phillips and Cole, still in her, disappeared.
Steadfast had no idea of what was happening to Cole and Phillips. His whole mind was focused on Elton. He searched for any sign of him amongst the debris. There he was, clinging to a plank.
‘Elton, I’m coming,’ yelled Steadfast as he struck out towards the bobbing figure.
But Elton did not hear him. He was too far gone from a blow on head when he tumbled down Defiant’s deck into the sea. Silently, unhurriedly, his grip on the plank weakened and he slipped beneath the waves.
Steadfast did not notice Elton go. The salt, the oily water and the choppy waves blurred all that he saw. So when he reached the abandoned plank he was overcome by a wave of panic. Elton was his prisoner. He had ordered his locking-up. And he had forgotten about him. All his triumphs over the E-boats would be forgotten once people heard that Elton had gone.
In desperation, for his own sake rather than Elton’s, Steadfast dived under the plank. He could see little, so he swung his arms from side to side and up and down but found nothing. Choking and spluttering he came to the surface again. Then his aching lungs responded once more to his demand for a deep breath. Down he went. Now he was flailing his arms even more desperately, but his strength was ebbing fast. His lungs finally refused to endure any more torture and he shot to the surface, gasping, retching and with every blood vessel in his head and neck throbbing to within a fracture of bursting.
Steadfast lay exhausted and dejected as the sea tossed his shattered body up and down and from side to side. He could see the Arundel in the distance and knew that the men on her deck would be watching these last moments of Defiant. He turned to swim back to Arundel.
As he kicked back in the water, his left foot hit something. ‘Elton!’
Down went Steadfast, newly energised with the hope of saving the seaman. He grabbed him by the jacket with his left hand and struck out with his right arm to bring them both to the surface. For a moment he rested, holding Elton’s head clear of the water. Then he moved off towards an abandoned raft.
At the raft Steadfast first tried to push the deadweight of Elton up onto it, but as soon as he had lifted Elton more than a foot or so, the lifeless weight fell back into the sea. Next he tried to haul himself onto the raft while still clinging to Elton. A few attempts were enough to prove this impossible. He fell back into the sea, resolving to cling to Elton and perhaps tow him towards Arundel.
By now Steadfast was too exhausted to keep himself alive, let alone Elton. He was on the point of abandoning his charge when a discarded lifejacket floated by. He grabbed it. Lying on his back with Elton’s floating head towards him, Steadfast inched the jacket over each of Elton’s arms and then tied the strings. He let go: Elton was floating.
From the moment of the second shudder to the disappearance of Steadfast, Phillips, Cole, and Elton had been a matter of seconds. Seconds that held the men on the Arundel in frozen awe at the sight of the unfolding catastrophe. They were powerless to help and there was no other boat in the water to go to the aid of Defiant’s victims. All they could do was watch as Steadfast struggled with the released prisoner.
There was a cheer as Steadfast put the lifejacket round Elton, but a gasp of horror at what followed. The exhausted Steadfast had expended his last ounce of energy. His head slumped forwards and disappeared beneath the waves.
The crew of Arundel rushed to lower a second boat. Hardly had they reached it when Gardiner cried out, ‘The captain!’ Steadfast’s apparently motionless body had bobbed up from the deep.
Gardiner threw off his jacket, tore off his sea boots and dived the ten feet or so from the Arundel’s deck into the churning sea. All on the deck of the Arundel were stunned into a combination of silent admiration and bewildered surprise at Gardiner’s foolhardy action. But as Gardiner’s powerful crawl carried him nearer and nearer to the drifting captain, a murmur of approval spread amongst the men. And when they saw him reach Steadfast and turn to drag him back, a cheer went up. The nearer that Gardiner got to the Arundel, the louder the cheer became.
Gardiner’s return had been anticipated and some men from the Arundel were already at the bottom of the net ready to haul him and his captain up. Gardiner dropped down onto the deck, exhausted but with an inner sense of vindication. The RNVR had shown its mettle.
The boat that went out after Phillips, Cole and Elton soon found the three men. Elton was in poor shape but the Chief Petty Office and the Coxswain were unharmed beyond being wet and cold.
By the time that the Arundel was ready to return to Harwich, all that remained of Defiant was the sad flotsam of spars, shreds of clothing and shattered remnants of furniture.
Meanwhile Steadfast was below receiving the attention of Kendrick. Apart from his lacerated hands he was uninjured and his soaking already seemed a thing of the past.
Half an hour later, as the Arundel sped back towards port, Steadfast asked to see Gardiner. Gardiner had no idea what to expect. Was he to be the recipient of over-fulsome thanks from a guilty captain? Was Steadfast about to prime him on how to present the last few days as an outstanding victory over the foe? Did Steadfast want him to pass on a reassuring message to a relative? The truth was most unexpected:
‘I’ve been thinking, Number One,’ said the commander, now sitting up in a bunk, ‘are you the Gardiner that won a swimming medal at the 1928 Olympics?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I think I may have underestimated you – and the RNVR, Gardiner.’
‘Kind of you to say so, sir.’
***
Meanwhile, Phillips and Cole were drinking hot cocoa in a mess a few feet away from the captain. Phillips could not help thinking about his conversation with George Barton just a few days ago.
‘I was right,’ Phillips said.
‘About what?’ asked Cole.
‘This being the captain’s first ship. I warned that young Barton, but he just laughed it off.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘That it’s bad luck to be on a captain’s first ship.’
‘Well, it was certainly bad luck being on this one.’
‘You could always trust Smithy to know just how far to push his luck with Jerry.’
‘Yes, he got it just right. This captain’s too fond of a scrap. Too much of a medal hunter.’
‘What do you think he’ll get for this run? A reprimand or a gong?’
‘If they’ve any respect for the men, they’ll give him a right dressing down. But my money’s on a gong for the E-boats.’
‘And us?’
‘A mug of hot tea and a
currant bun.’
Naval Terms
RN - A career naval officer.
RNR - A career naval officer in the reserve.
RNVR - A civilian who voluntarily does part-time naval training.
If you enjoyed First Command by Richard Freeman you might be interested in Audacity by Alan Evans, also published by Endeavour Press.
Extract from Audacity by Alan Evans
1—A Plot
Commander David Cochrane Smith lay uneasily awake beside the young woman sleeping warm and close. Very faintly, somewhere in the town, a clock struck two. He stared up at the ceiling of the hotel room and wondered just what ‘modifications’ were being made to his new ship, H.M.S. Audacity. This was early April 1918. Although the fourth winter of the war was supposedly behind, a bitter wind still moaned outside and hurled rain to batter at the curtained windows. Audacity lay only two miles away at Rosyth in the Firth of Forth but he and her crew, every man-jack, had been ordered on local leave until the work on her was completed. The woman had been waiting, fondly, patiently, for him when he had come ashore. Doubtless there would be whispering behind his back. To hell with them all.
He thought this was a bad time of night for a man to examine his life and it was not conducive to quiet sleep. He would not think of the girl he had loved in Venice. That wound was healed but the scar was still there. It was not useful, either, to think of the house in Norfolk left to him by his grandfather. He had seen it only once, warm red brick on a cold winter’s day and the furniture sheeted like ghosts. There was a photograph of the woman he thought might be his mother. A man should have a place of his own and now he did. But he had yet to spend a night in it.
He did not bear the old man’s name, had been brought up by a Reuben Smith and his wife in a village shop, also in Norfolk but a long way from the house. He was still by right the old admiral’s grandson and could take the family name if he wished, but he would not. He had made his way as David Cochrane Smith and so he would remain. He had inherited a mortgage with the house and no money. There was no legal restriction to prevent him selling the house but his grandfather’s will held a plea that he would keep it. Although he had only his pay of three hundred pounds a year and some small savings, that was the last wish of a dying man and Smith would honour it. Besides, an empty house and a lack of money need not be problems: the young woman beside him had money enough…
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