If, in accordance with the delightful legend, Drake during the recent war had heard the beating of his drum and had ‘quit the port o’ Heaven,’ come back to life again in the service of his Sovereign and country, he would assuredly have gone to sea in command of a Q-sailing-ship. His would have been the Victoria Cross and D.S.O. with bars, and we can see him bringing his much battered ship into Plymouth Sound as did his spiritual descendants in the Great War. And yet, with all the halo of his name, it is impossible to imagine that, great seaman as he was, his deeds would be more valiant than those we are now recording.

If we had, so to speak, put the clock back by the re-introduction of the fighting sailing ship, it was an anachronism that was well justified by results. More of these craft and various rigs were still being taken up. In the spring of 1917 the topsail schooner Dargle was requisitioned, fitted out at Granton with a 4-inch and two 12-pounders, and then sent to Lerwick, whence she operated. Similarly the ketch George L. Muir (alias G. L. Munro, G.L.M., and Padre), which was accustomed to trade between Kirkwall and the Firth of Forth, was chartered and armed with a 12-pounder.

On April 22, 1917, the 174-ton auxiliary barquentine Gaelic (otherwise known as Brig 11, Gobo, and Q 22), which had been taken up at the end of 1916, and was armed with a couple of 12-pounders, had a very plucky fight. She had left Falmouth on the nineteenth under the command of Lieutenant G. Irvine, R.N.R., and at 6.30 p.m. was now 48 miles south of the Old Head of Kinsale, steering S.E. under all fore-and-aft sail. It was a fine, clear day, the sea was calm, there was little wind, but the ship was making about 2 knots under sail and starboard motor. It was a quiet Sunday evening: one of those gentle spring days which came gladly to the Irish coast after the long nights and continuous gales of the dark winter. The watch, consisting of four men, were all aloft getting in the square sails, when one of them hailed the deck that he could see a submarine about four points on the starboard bow. She was distant about 5,000 yards to the southward and steering to the N.W. at slow speed.

Hands were called down from aloft immediately, and action stations sounded on the alarm gong. The enemy began the tactics of keeping well away from the ship and firing shell after shell, of which six hit the Gaelic, killing two of the deckhands and wounding four, besides putting the port motor out of action and seriously damaging the rigging. For a time both vessels maintained their respective courses, and when the enemy was bearing a couple of points abaft Gaelic’s starboard beam, the sailing ship unmasked her guns and opened fire. It was now 6.50; the enemy had already fired twenty rounds, but as soon as the attack was returned he altered course and despatched a torpedo at 4,000 yards. This luckily Gaelic was able to avoid in time by starboarding her helm so that the torpedo missed by about 150 yards, passing parallel along the starboard side. Gaelic’s forward gun had now fired three shots, but her fourth hit the submarine. By a piece of bad luck, soon after this, the firing pin of the port forward gun broke and the gun was temporarily out of action, so Gaelic had to be brought round until the starboard guns would bear. Thus the fight went on until 7.20 p.m., when the enemy came round under port helm and started to move slowly away to the S.W., still firing. Another trouble now occurred in the barquentine. One of the shells had caused the fresh-water tank on deck to leak. This water then came through a hole in the deck on to the starboard engine, putting it out of action, and so with both engines useless and no wind the unfortunate Gaelic could not be manoeuvred, though the guns continued to bear. Firing was maintained and two more hits were scored on the German target. About eight o’clock the submarine ceased fire, ported his helm, headed towards the barquentine, and ten minutes later, the range being still 4,000 yards, Gaelic hit him again. This was the end of the action, each craft having fired about 110 rounds. It seems pretty certain that though the submarine was not sunk she was badly knocked about, for she broke off the engagement and dived. A hand was sent aloft who reported that he could distinctly see the submarine below making to the south-east. Gaelic did her best to follow, but by this time darkness was rapidly setting in, so with both motors useless, sails and rigging also in a dreadful condition, she set a course for the Old Head of Kinsale, and at daybreak, when 10 miles short of that landfall, was picked up by H.M. sloop Bluebell and towed into Queenstown. She was then refitted and eventually went out to the Mediterranean, being based on Gibraltar.

Allusion has been made in another chapter to the auxiliary schooner Glen (alias Sidney and Athos), which began her special service on April 5, 1917, under Lieutenant R. J. Turnbull, R.N.R. On May 17 she had a most successful duel, in which she managed to sink the small UB 39, one of those submarines about 121 feet long, and possessing extreme surface speed of 8½ knots, which, armed with one gun and four torpedoes, used to come out from Zeebrugge, negotiate the Dover Straits—for which she was fitted with a net-cutter at the bows—and then operate in the English Channel. The enemy’s gun was a 22-pounder; Glen carried a 12-pounder and a 3-pounder. It was six o’clock in the evening, and Glen was about 35 miles south of the Needles, steering north-east, close hauled on the starboard tack, the wind being E. by S., force 4. There was a moderate sea on, and the ship was bowling along under all sail. Suddenly out of nowhere a shot was heard, and five minutes later could be seen the flash of a second, and UB 39 was sighted to the southward, 2½ miles away. Glen therefore backed her fore-yard, and eased away all sheets, so as to check her way. The submarine then ceased firing, but her captain must have been one of those less experienced men, who were characteristic of the later stages of the war, and did foolish things; for he was indiscreet enough in this case to close schooner, who then ‘abandoned ship.’ On came the German and submerged when 800 yards off until only her periscope and part of her bridge dodger were showing. Still she approached until now she was only 200 yards distant, steering a course parallel with the schooner on the latter’s starboard side. All this happened so quickly that the ‘panic party’ were just leaving the ship, when UB 39 rose to the surface just abaft the schooner’s beam, and now only 80 yards off. For such temerity the German, who must have been amazingly credulous, paid with his life. Lieutenant Turnbull gave the order for ‘action,’ and within five seconds the first shot from the 12-pounder was fired, which fell over the submarine abaft the conning-tower. The enemy was evidently quite surprised, for the hatch in the conning-tower was now opened, and there appeared the head and shoulders of a man who seemed dazed, and as the second 12-pounder shell came bursting on the hull under the conning-tower this man apparently fell back down the hatch.

The submarine now commenced to dive, and as the stern rose out of the water the third and fourth shots from the same gun burst on the after part of the hull in the middle line, the holes made by these three shots being plainly visible to those in the schooner. The 3-pounder had also come into action, and out of six rounds the second shot had hit the hull on the water-line forward of the conning-tower, the third had hit her on the water-line under the gun, the fourth and fifth bursting on the after part of the hull just as she was sinking, and the sixth bursting on the water as her stern disappeared. Badly holed, leaking from all these holes, UB 39 listed over to port towards the schooner, vanished from sight for evermore, and then a large quantity of oil and bubbles came to the surface. There were no survivors.

Having definitely disposed of the enemy, it would be reasonable for the crew of the Glen to feel elated; but just as UB 39 was finally disappearing, another submarine was seen approaching about 4,000 yards off on the starboard bow. Glen opened fire and the enemy submerged, only to reappear about 600 yards away on the port bow. Glen fired once more, and next time the submarine appeared a few minutes later on the port quarter 1,000 yards off. This was happening while the ‘panic party’ were being got on board again, and thus there was every risk of being torpedoed; but Glen then proceeded on a northerly course under sail and motor, and at 7.30 p.m. a very large submarine was observed 2 miles away on the starboard beam, heading in about the same direction. After ten minutes this submarine opened fire, then turned to pass astern, and continued firing with both her guns, which Glen answered with both of hers. About 8 p.m. the duel ceased; the enemy disappeared to the west on the look-out evidently for a less obstinate ship. If you examine the positions on the chart you will realize that the enemy submarines were evidently concentrated in mid-Channel in order to entrap shipping coming up and down and across the English Channel. They were so placed as to cut the lines of communication to Cherbourg and at the same time have a good chance of bagging some liner bound up along.

This concentration at important centres was noticeable during the submarine campaign; in fact, but a few weeks later Glen was again engaged with an enemy in the same vicinity. This was on June 25, the exact position was 14 miles S. by W. of St. Catherine’s Point, and the schooner was sailing close hauled on the starboard tack, heading S.W. by S., doing her 2 knots, when she sighted a vessel apparently under sail on her port quarter 4 miles distant. Presently this vessel fired at her, the shot falling 1,000 yards short. This, of course, was a submarine, and it was a not unusual thing to attempt disguise by this means; for obviously a low-lying craft on the surface viewed from a distance would create suspicion. But, parenthetically, it may be mentioned that this sail device was not always carried out with common sense, and I remember on one occasion a submarine giving himself hopelessly away by motoring at good speed in the eye of the wind with his sail of course shaking wildly. Such an unseamanlike act was at once spotted by the nearest patrol, and the submarine had to dive so hurriedly that she left the sail on the water.

In the case of Glen the recognition was obvious as soon as the first shot was fired. Several minutes later came another, which fell only 60 yards short, so Glen hove-to and ‘abandoned’ ship, the enemy continuing to fire every few minutes, but the shots fell just over. Her seventh and eighth shots fell much closer, in fact so near that their splash flooded the schooner’s deck, and shell splinters struck the sails and bulwarks. Glen then opened fire with both guns, but this was a more cautious submarine, who declined to approach nearer than 4,000 yards, fired three more rounds, then submerged and made off.

The activity of the submarines during this week in the neighbourhood of Portland Bill was most noticeable. Submarines were also stationed in the western approaches of the English Channel. The reason for this is not hard to appreciate, for it was on June 26, the day after the above engagement, that the first contingent of U.S.A. troops landed in France on the western coast. Whether the transports would be bound up Channel to Cherbourg or Southampton, the enemy submarines were lying in wait ready for them. And it is significant that also on June 26 the Q-sailing-ship Gaelic sighted a submarine at the western entrance of the English Channel and had a short duel with her.

On July 2 Gaelic had another indecisive duel, and on the tenth Glen (now commanded by Sub-Lieutenant K. Morris, R.N.R.) once more was in action. This time she was further down Channel, about 45 miles S.W. of Portland Bill. In this incident the enemy fired several rifle-shots at the panic party rowing in the boat. An officer appeared at the conning-tower presently, hailed this rowing boat, and in good English ordered her to come alongside. The boat began to do so, but just then something seemed suddenly to startle the officer, and he disappeared into the conning-tower. Glen opened fire, and the submarine—one of the UC type—submerged. She was not sunk, but she had been damaged, and Sub-Lieutenant Morris was awarded the D.S.C.

We saw just now that submarines were very fond of hanging about on the approach to Cherbourg. There was a sound reason for this. The coal-fields of France were in the hands of the enemy, consequently it fell to us to keep France supplied. From February, 1917, a system was organized which was the real beginning of the convoy method soon afterwards adopted with such beneficial results to our shipping. This embryonic organization was known as the ‘F.C.T.’—French Coal-Trade Traffic. The ships would load coal up the Bristol Channel and then sail independently round to Weymouth Bay. Having thus collected, they were sailed across to Cherbourg together in a group, protection being afforded by trawlers during daylight and moonlight hours only. As one looked at this heterogeneous collection of craft, some of them of great age, lying at anchor off Weymouth Harbour, they seemed distinctly a curious lot; but there was a great dearth of shipping at that time, and any old vessel that could carry coal and go ahead was worth her weight in gold. The system was found most successful, and other group sailings on definite routes, such as Falmouth-Brest and Dover-Dunkirk, were instituted.

The next development was to have one or two Q-ships among the convoys, for the most obvious of reasons, and especially well astern of the convoy, so that the enemy might take them for stragglers and sink them before any of the escort could turn back and help. Then came a still further development, which had been in the minds of many naval officers for a long time. Since there was such a scarcity of tonnage available for general purposes, why not let the Q-ship, instead of carrying ballast, be loaded with a proper cargo? She could easily carry this without interfering with her fighting ability: in fact, she would be trimmed more normally, and rather increase than decrease her power of deception. As to the possibility of secrecy being lost whilst loading in port, the armament was very cleverly concealed and only a little organization was necessary to prevent her true character being bruited about. The main difficulty would be when in the presence of neutral shipping in that particular harbour, but this problem was capable of solution.

Thus it happened now that in many cases the Q-ship became also a trader. Be it noted, her character was not that of an armed merchant ship which is armed only defensively, but a properly commissioned warship carrying cargo as well as her offensive armament. Now, one of these craft was the two-masted 179-ton brigantine Probus (alias Q 30, Ready, Thirza, Elixir). She had been purchased by the Admiralty in 1915, and fitted with an auxiliary motor. Then, based on Granton, she had worked as a decoy in the North Sea.

In May, 1917, having done excellent work as a pure decoy, we find her as a decoy-trader. Having loaded up with coal at Granton, she left there on May 4, and duly arrived at Treguier. From there she proceeded to Swansea with a cargo of pit-props, which were much needed by the Welsh coal mines, seeing that our customary supply from Scandinavia, via the North Sea, was so endangered at that time. From Swansea Probus, who was armed with two 12-pounders and two 6-pounders, sailed round to Falmouth, and at 3.30 on the afternoon of June 20 she set sail for Morlaix in company with twelve sailing ships and the one steamship escort, the armed trawler Harlech Castle. Think of it in these modern days: a dozen sailing vessels coming out past St. Anthony’s Lighthouse! Truly this war has shown how history goes on repeating itself. Who would have thought that sailing-ship convoys, which in other wars used to assemble and leave Falmouth, would ever be witnessed again?

Now, to control a dozen sail you must have sea-room, so the convoy was arranged thus: A mile ahead of the first sailing ship steamed the trawler, then came the twelve ships spread over 3 miles, and then 4 miles astern of the last ship, and looking just as a straggler would be, sailed the Probus. There was thus a distance of 8 miles between her and the escort trawler. Most of a day passed before anything occurred. At 2.15 p.m. on June 21 Probus, still astern of the convoy, was about 23 miles south-west of the Start and heading on a course S.E. by S. The wind was S.W., force 3, and she was doing about 4 knots through the water, when she observed what appeared to be a ketch-rigged vessel, steering the same course, 4 miles away on the starboard quarter; but from the rapidity with which the bearing altered, it was soon obvious that the ketch was not under sail alone. At 2.30 p.m. the ‘ketch’ proved her submarine identity by opening fire, the first shot falling 10 yards clear of the brigantine’s beam. Probus then hove-to, the crew went to action stations, and the boat was got ready to be launched, while the submarine kept up a rapid fire from about 4,000 yards, shells falling unpleasantly close. By now Probus was heading about S.W. with fore-yards aback, and, owing to the light wind, was making a stern board. Then her head fell round slowly to the west. The enemy was now bearing about W. to W.S.W., firing rapidly, and heading to the south-east so as to cross the brigantine’s bows. It was a beautifully clear summer’s afternoon, and you could see the convoy and the smoke from the escorting trawler quite easily. After the submarine had maintained a continuous long-range fire for ten minutes, Probus ran up the White Ensign, and at 3,500 yards opened fire with her starboard 12-pounder. The first round fell 500 yards short, but the crew of the submarine’s gun hurriedly left their station and made for the conning-tower. The second shot seemed to be a hit, for the enemy, lying across the brigantine’s bows, stopped, and a large cloud of smoke went up, and he temporarily ceased fire.

Probus then went about on the other tack, and the enemy took advantage of this to resume firing, while shots began to fall all round; but the port 12-pounder of the British ship now came into action, and the fourth shot was certainly another hit, for it dismantled the German’s sails and mast, and raised a cloud of smoke from the fore part of the conning-tower. Shelling continued, and the enemy was compelled to submerge, Probus’s parting shot hitting him on the top of the conning-tower. It was now about 3.30 p.m., and nothing was seen of the German until a quarter of an hour later, when he was sighted 6 miles away approaching Probus. He had probably been stopping his shell-holes, and was now ready to give the sailing ship the knock-out blow; but the armed trawler, with its fishermen crew eager to have a hand in the fight, was by this time making towards the submarine, and this compelled the German to break off the engagement and scurry to the north-east.

Unfortunately this duel demonstrated yet again the great weakness of the sailing ship as a man-of-war. In the olden days, when the swift-moving galley fought the sailing carrack or caravel, the galley was able to press home her attack if the weather fell light, and left the other ship rolling helpless in the calm, with yards and tackle grievously creaking and chafing. The submarine is the modern galley, and the Q-sailing-ship is the carrack’s counterpart. As long as there was a good breeze she could be manoeuvred, and if there was a hard breeze it would make it difficult for the enemy’s gunnery. Probus was practically becalmed, so the submarine could run rings round her, and the sailing ship could not be worked up to windward. Of course, on these and similar occasions troubles seldom come singly; for when the brigantine Probus made a stern board her starboard propeller had fouled the log-line, so this was out of action. However, Probus resumed her original course, followed the convoy, and in spite of the light airs duly arrived at Morlaix on June 25.

Q-sailing ship “Fresh Hope”
This was a 900-ton three-masted schooner which was requisitioned in the last year of the war. She had previously been the United States “Edith E. Cummins.”