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In November 1915, I joined the British Navy as a Midshipman, Royal Naval Reserve, and, after a short gunnery course, was appointed to HMS Alcantara, an armed merchant cruiser mounting six 6-inch guns. Originally a 16,000-ton luxury liner on the South American service of the Royal Mail Lines, she had been requisitioned by the Admiralty and commissioned as one of the units of the 10th Cruiser Squadron (all armed merchant cruisers) on blockade duties between the Shetland Islands and the Norwegian coast. The mission of this Squadron was to prevent war material from getting through to Germany.
All vessels seen were stopped and queried. If there was any doubt about their answers, they were boarded,
When the captain of the armed merchant cruiser HMS Alcantara, below, ordered Midshipman Poole to take command of the three-masted barque, Dagmar, and her contraband cargo, he knew the young man was equal to the job—but the crusty, old Norwegian skipper of the sailing vessel thought otherwise.
and if the boarding officer’s report was unsatisfactory, they were sent into a British port for further investigation.
On 6 February 1916, a fine three-masted barque was sighted tearing along under a full spread of canvas with a "bone in her teeth,” headed for the Norwegian coast.
She proved to be the Dagmar of Norway bound for Trondhjem with a full cargo of resin. As this was classed as contraband, she would have to go into a British port, and her cargo would be confiscated.
Shortly after receipt of the cargo report, a messenger arrived to say that the captain wanted me on the bridge immediately. As I hurried up there I wondered what I had done wrong. My fears were quickly realized when he ordered me to take command of the armed guard which was to see that the Dagmar arrived safely in Lerwick 92 miles to the southwest.
Naturally, I was thrilled, for although junior in seniority, I was the only one of the six midshipmen who had had previous sea experience. But when my eyes travelled across the gray stretch of white-capped waters to the Dagmar, I felt a sinking sensation and wondered whether I could handle the situation if any trouble developed. Only a few days previous, news had leaked through that the armed guards on two other sailing ships had never reached their destinations. Would I be the third to disappear?
The Alcantara’s armed guard consisted of one private of the Royal Marine Light Infantry (later The Marines), and four seamen, none of whom had served more than a few months at sea. All were armed with rifles and bayonets and carried their own hammocks and sea bags, plus five days’ rations. (The officer in charge was always fed by the ship, although an uninvited guest.)
4
the wind dropped to a light breeze. It was then
Dusk was closing in by the time we arrived alongside, hence the captain didn’t get a good look at me until I arrived down in the saloon. You can imagine the shock he got when he saw a youth of 19, scarcely five feet six inches tall and weighing a slight 140 pounds, who was to be in overall charge. When I explained the situation and my orders, he was momentarily speechless; then, suddenly, he burst into a tirade of abuse in a vivid mixture of Norwegian and English, during which I understood that he had just made a record passage with fair winds all the way from a southern U. S. port and would have been in Norway the next evening. I saw his point and privately sympathized. At the same time, I told him that it was the ship owner’s fault for loading contraband.
Eventually, he calmed down and showed us to where our accommodations would be. The men were to bunk in the sail locker at the forward end of the starboard side of the poop, while I was allotted a spare room,
with a half transom on the port side of the poop.
Once we were settled in, the Dagmar was put on a course heading as near to Lerwick as the southwest wind would allow. An armed sailor stood by the man at the wheel to see that he steered the right course
Next morning, it was a grand feeling as I watched the old ship heel over to the fresh breeze, but I did find it hard on the ankles until I got used to it.
During the afternoon, I realized that the motion wa* somewhat different from our large liner and began to feel slightly seasick, but it wore off. Not so with m)' four sailors. They were down and completely out fo! two days; hence, until they recovered, the Marine and I had to keep watch-and-watch, four hours on and foot off, next to the man at the wheel. This worried fl>& for during that time we were a very vulnerable armed guard.
As far as I knew, we had confiscated all the arm5 in the ship; I had checked into that when we first arrived on board. I had allowed the captain to keep his grandfather’s old blunderbuss, for to me it looked just as dangerous from one end as from the other.
To avoid any chances of having my men’s doped, I instructed them to have one man always °p watch in the galley while the cook was preparing the>( meal. As for myself, I ate in the saloon with the capm1" and officers, eating exactly what they did. I noticed th-'-: the captain ate very little. When I asked him why, told me that he suffered from diabetes and was on 1 special diet.
On the third day, the barometer took a strong downward trend and by nightfall it was blowing a fre^ gale. The old ship creaked and groaned as she workc" in the high seas. The slatting of the sails, the whis^ of the wind, the creaking of the rigging, and the nom of the seas crashing on board, all fascinated me.
As the gale continued, we wallowed around, tacking back and forth to make mileage. The temperature ",;1’ down to freezing and everyone was wet, cold, am miserable. Luckily, the weather was also too bad f°( submarine activity.
At the end of the fifth day, we weren’t gettii’f anywhere because of the contrary winds; also, my mc|1 had about finished their five days’ rations. In addition the cook was running short of coal for the galley raOF and the ship was running short of oil for the navigati°f lights, which we had to show at night to avoid beW run down and sunk because of poor visibility.
Next morning, the barometer, which had been ^ settled, gradually steadied very low. The sky cleared ai1'
hands on deck” and every stitch of canvas was set. S1-1' sights were taken to work out our position; showed that we had made good only ten miles in
A "Cheeky Boy" Takes Charge 83
general direction of Lerwick, although we had sailed many more.
By noon, it was a flat calm with a moderate swell; the sun shone brilliantly and the gulls settled on the water near the ship. This gave the captain a chance to open up the main hatch and break out several bags of resin for the galley fire.
With such a low barometer, the good weather couldn’t last. A light breeze sprang up in the early afternoon; the sails were trimmed and retrimmed as it shifted all over the compass, until everyone was worn out. By 6 o’clock, the wind had settled into the northwest and rapidly freshened. Again it was all hands to shorten sail, and within a couple of hours, a howling northwest gale was blowing.
The captain was furious and roundly cursed the British Navy and the weather; he didn’t know which was worse. When he ran out of English, he spluttered in Norwegian. Turning to look down on me as I stood beside him in the lee of the canvas dodger, he bellowed, "If this wind keep much longer I turn go Norway. Last night my sailors say if submarine come, German will shoot us all. We have no oil for lamps and if ship get sunk, what happen then? To hell wit’ you and your Navy.” He then stamped off the poop down into the saloon with me trailing behind.
In the saloon he said, "My men can easy beat yours. My men are sailors, your men just play sailors.”
"You may think so, Captain,” I replied, for I was getting angry. Drawing my loaded .45 revolver, which I carried all the time, I shook it in his face and said, "The first man to alter course for Norway will be shot and I mean it!”
That really infuriated him. Dragging his old blunderbuss out of a drawer, he shoved its bell mouth in my face and retorted, "And I shoot you! I not take orders from a cheeky boy.”
"You are taking orders from the British Navy,” I reminded him firmly, "And what I say holds good.” As we stood with guns levelled for a tense and dramatic 30 seconds, I wasn’t sure whether his gun was loaded or not. I do know that if it had gone off, there would have been precious little of my face left. Still, I had to be dead serious considering what had happened to the othfcr armed guards on the two sailing ships. I certainly didn’t want to be the third casualty.
Suddenly,' he dropped his gun, for he must have realized that I had authority and the British Navy behind me.
As he put his gun away, I went up on the poop leaving him muttering to himself about the bloody Navy. I let him keep his blunderbuss for I felt he daren’t use it. Sending for my men, I told them of the incident and warned them to be very much on
the alert with their rifles handy (they always wore their bayonets) and to inform me of any suspicious movement on the part of the crew from the captain down.
I lay on my bunk fully dressed, wide awake and with my gun handy, listening to the roar of the gale and the crashing of the seas on deck, ready to rush topside at the first tap of the sentry’s foot over my head. Periodically, I took a walk up on the poop to give him confidence.
About nine o’clock that night, during a lull, the lookout reported a vessel in sight; then a large shape loomed out of the darkness and a signal lamp commenced flashing slowly, "What ship and where bound?” As she paralleled our course, I could see that she was an armed merchant cruiser.
It was raining in torrents as the Dagmar pitched and wallowed in the high seas. The shrieking of the wind in the rigging was deafening and vicious white squalls sent the spray furiously whirling higher than the mastheads. Though clad in oilskins, the rain and icy spray were running down my neck. I had to be lashed to the mizzen rigging on the poop, in order to free my hand to reply to his message with an oil signal lamp, for it was impossible to keep a foothold on the slippery, heaving deck.
Slowly I spelled out, "Dagmar of Norway under armed guard bound for Lerwick. Short of coal for galley and oil for navigation lights, also provisions for armed guard. Can you let me have some?”
Her reply was, "Weather too bad to lower boat at present. Will pick you up again when weather moderates.” She then disappeared into the murk.
While this was happening, the captain was standing beside me hanging onto the shrouds. When I yelled out her reply, he yelled back "All right!” and then collapsed in a heap on deck. For a moment I thought he was dead. It took six husky seamen to get him below into the saloon, where they laid him out on the settee.
That was an unforgettable night. Hove to under double-reefed topsails, the gale shrieked and howled through the rigging like a thousand furies, and the old ship shuddered from truck to keel, as solid water crashed on deck. What with the groans of the tormented rigging, combined with the torrential rain and spray beating a violent tattoo on the deck overhead, it sounded as if all hell had broken loose.
As we thrashed around in a dizzying corkscrew motion, in the mountainous seas, the oil lamp swinging over the saloon table threw a ghostly light over the ashen face of the captain.
I knelt by his side, sick at heart, as he kept mumbling, "I die, I die, I die.” Then, in a broken voice with long pauses for breath, he told me where to find his papers,
some for the owner and some for his wife. Then after another long pause, he said in a low voice, "I sorry I want to shoot you. Take good care of my ship. The chief mate is a good sailor. He not let you down.” By this time, I was just about on the point of tears.
Meanwhile, the chief mate had been rummaging through the medicine chest where he found a bottle of brandy. He gave the captain a good stiff dose, which soon took effect. His pulse, which had been very weak, began to quicken. A few minutes later he fell asleep.
Next morning he had recovered sufficiently to move around quietly. His collapse had frightened him, but it made him more kindly disposed towards me.
By late afternoon the weather had improved and the Alcantara’s sister ship HMS Andes picked us up again.
Although there was still quite a rough sea and swell, she sent across a 12-oared naval cutter and, after a struggle, they brought us coal, kerosene, and provisions. I also relayed a message to the captain of the Alcantara stating that we were "All well, though proceeding against continuous head winds.”
Before the Andes continued on, I asked our captain if he would like them to send over a doctor.
"No tank you,” he replied. "I have too many Navy on board. I don’t want any more.”
I then asked if he was still thinking of turning around and heading for Norway.
"No,” he replied weakly, "not now.”
And so we proceeded, with still 50 miles to go, having made good only 42 miles in the right direction in six days. At one time we were within a few hours sail from Norway. It was very disheartening, but as the captain said, "Nothing like trying to beat around Cape Horn westbound in the winter months.”
On the morning of the 8th day, land was sighted to the west, and a naval armed trawler headed towards us. After replying to her signal, I asked her captain to tow us in to Lerwick, as the wind was dead ahead. He replied that he didn’t have a long enough tow line, but when I told him that we had our own tow line, he agreed to try.
Unfortunately, ours was an old one, half-length wire and very rusty at that, the other half coir rope, to give it a spring.
The line was passed and secured, then the trawler went ahead dead slow to take the strain. Just at that moment our bow rose to a heavier-than-usual swell, which tautened the line like a bowstring. There was a sharp whang as the line parted.
While preparing for the tow, several of the sails had been furled. Now they would have to be set again, which didn’t please the captain at all, and he said so very forcibly. The trawler then signalled us, "Follow me” just as another trawler arrived on the scene from
cam few moc send V over to S] rode dam botl Nav the I
into dead T after wire for : A appc agai C man cabl the mys h and Aftc wen stari T on 1
the other side of us, we being in the center of a dir££! line. This the captain did, thinking that he was goiff to lead us to a more sheltered place to make anoth^ attempt at towing. After a while, when our capts|f saw by cross bearings that we were heading for an of** bay with rocks on either side and no safe an choral he became alarmed and cursed the trawler for her st® pidity. Meanwhile, I was signalling the trawler requtf1 ing to know where she was leading us and why.
Back came the reply, "My signal was directed to th other trawler. Not to you.”
When I informed the captain of this, I expect fireworks. I was not disappointed. He got so mad th[1]1 he couldn’t think of abusive English words fast enough "Got tarn your bloody Navy,” he spluttered. "They f me in this. Now they get me out. I do notting.”
I didn’t like the look of things and said so, sugg#1 ing that he take some action.
He glared down at me as he pondered over whethf he should or should not. I am sure he was beginner to realize that there was every possibility of losing I”1 ship, as well as her cargo and he had reached the poi(,! of not caring very much either way so long as no liv£i were lost. To force him to take action at the point * my gun, which it was my duty to do if he was delib£f ately attempting to lose the ship, would be a tickle business. Diplomacy had to be tried first and there ^ precious little time left.
Just as I was going to have to assert my authority he bellowed, "All hands wear ship,” first in Norwegi3(1 then in English; the latter being for the benefit of ^ men who had been lending the crew a hand with $ sails when off duty.
When all was ready, the wheel was put hard ov£l and the Dagmar came around, clearing those hungf looking rocks by a few hundred yards.
As dusk was setting in, we stood out to sea un<k reduced sail and made southing all night. At daylig^J we ran into contrary winds, which kept us backing filling, as we tried to make headway towards the la^' with but little success.
On the morning of the tenth day, land was sight^ to the south of Lerwick and we made a cautious af proach. When five miles off, a naval trawler head^ towards us, but not the same one. After answering b£l challenge, I requested a tow into Lerwick, to which captain agreed. Several sails were taken in, for all ^ had been set to the moderate breeze.
The trawler passed us a wire, which was really short for towing a deeply loaded sailing ship in d,( heavy swell that was running, but that was all she When it was made fast on both ships, she went de-11, slow ahead, but by the way both ships were buckift around it didn’t look too hopeful. When the full str#
A "Cheeky Boy" Takes Charge 85
came on the wire, there was a whang, as it parted a few feet from our end. With it went our captain’s good mood. "I no set sail again,” he roared, "Tell your Navy send men to work my ship into port. I not work her.”
While he was fuming and cursing, the trawler headed over towards us, for her lieutenant in command wanted to speak to me. Misjudging his distance, a heavy swell rode her bow into our bulwarks with a bang. The damage was slight for there was very little headway on both vessels, but not to the captain’s temper. "The Navy will pay for this,” he roared, shaking his fist at the lieutenant.
I tried to calm him down, for he had worked himself into a towering rage, and I was afraid he might drop dad any minute.
The trawler then made a second attempt, this time after the starboard anchor had been unshackled and the wire secured to the end of the cable then slacked out for four shackles to give spring to the towline.
Again the trawler went ahead dead slow and things appeared to be okay—for about ten minutes—when we again heard the now familiar whang as the wire parted.
Once more the cry was "All hands,” this time to man the capstan on the forecastle head to heave in the cable which was hanging under foot. The captain took the wheel and every man jack on board, including myself, manned the long, heavy capstan bars.
It was back-breaking work as the old ship pitched and wallowed in the heavy swell left from the gale. After a solid hour of it, the cable was all in and we were back to where we started, with the barometer starting a downward trend under an ominous sky.
The lieutenant then had a sudden idea. He did have on board the original towing wire for the heavy trawl
used in peacetime fishing. This was very much longer and heavier. It was quickly broken out and secured to the end of the cable.
By this time, the captain could only glare, for his vocabulary was worn out and so was he. Gradually the trawler took the strain while we prayed silently that the cable would hold. It did, and two hours later, we were safely anchored in the harbor of Lerwick.
It had taken us ten exciting days to sail 92 miles, and all the while I was wondering what would happen if we were stopped by a submarine. When I said goodbye to the old captain, I asked him if he still thought I was a cheeky boy. He laughed as he replied, "No, not now. You will make a sailor one day—when you grow up.” We parted the best of friends.
Three days later, I was back on board the Alcantara where the whole thing seemed just an amazing dream.
Captain Wardle, Royal Navy, our captain, had been very anxious about our long absence and wondered if we had been the third armed guard in a sailing ship to get into trouble. All units of the 10th Cruiser Squadron had been alerted to look for us. When he received my message via HMS Ancles, it relieved the situation somewhat, but a few days later when there was still no further report from me, he was sure that we had either been overpowered and were headed for Norway and internment, or picked up by a submarine, or run down and sunk during the night.
Ten days after rejoining the Alcantara, we were to take part in one of the last of the old-time battles of ship against ship at close range, in a duel to the death with a German raider. Both ships were sunk with heavy casualties. Again I was lucky, but that is another story.
*
Anticipatory Reaction
During an independent passage in one of Her Majesty’s destroyers, it was the Captain’s wont to appear on the bridge during the dog watches and quietly order "Man overboard.”
An Acting Sub-Lieutenant thoroughly briefed the bridge staff on what to do in the case of "Man overboard” being exercised.
The next evening, the Captain duly appeared and said, "Good evening, Sub.” Immediately six short blasts were sounded, the lifebuoy alarm pealed, Flag Oscar broke at the yard arm, ' and two lifebelts floated majestically astern, their calcium flares billowing clouds of smoke. When the noise had abated, the Captain enquired, "What the devil’s happening?”
A red-faced Sub was heard to reply timidly, "You did say 'Man overboard,’ didn’t you?”
—Contributed by Sub-Lt. S. Hawkins, Royal Navy
(The Naval Institute will pay $10.00 for each anecdote published in the Proceedings.)