One of the effects of the British blockade on Germany was to prevent such valuable war material as iron reaching Germany from Spain. Now Spanish ores, being of great purity, were in pre-war days imported in large quantities for the manufacture of the best qualities of steel, and it was a serious matter for Germany that these importations were cut off. But luckily for her she had been accustomed to obtain, even prior to the war, supplies of magnetic ore from Sweden, and it was of the utmost importance that this should be continued now that the war would last much longer than she had ever expected.

If you look at a map of Scandinavia inside the Arctic Circle you will notice the West Fjord, which is between the Lofoten Isles and the Norwegian mainland. Follow this up and you come to the Ofoten Fjord, at the head of which is the Norwegian port of Narvik. From here there ran across the Swedish border to Lulea what was the most northerly railway in Europe, and Narvik was a great harbour for the export of magnetic iron ore. Hither German ships came, loaded, and then, by keeping within the three-mile limit of territorial waters, going inside islands, and taking every possible advantage of night, managed to get their valuable cargoes back home for the Teutonic munition makers.

Now it was obviously one of the duties of our Tenth Cruiser Squadron, entrusted with the interception of shipping in the north, to see that Germany did not receive this ore. But having regard to the delicacy of not violating the waters of a neutral nation, and bearing in mind the pilotage difficulties off a coast studded with islands and half-tide rocks, this was no easy matter. It was here that the small ships came in so useful. We can go back to June, 1915, and find the armed trawler Tenby Castle (Lieutenant J. T. Randell, R.N.R.) attached nominally to the Tenth Cruiser Squadron, but sent to work single-handed, as it were, off the Norwegian coast intercepting shipping. As a distinguished admiral remarked, here she lay in a very gallant manner for twenty days, during which time she sank one enemy ship, very nearly secured a second, and was able to hand over to the Tenth Cruiser Squadron a neutral ship with iron ore. It was a most difficult situation to handle, for it required not merely a quick decision and bold initiative, but very accurate cross bearings had to be made, as these offending steamers were on the border-line of territorial waters. That great enemy of all seamen irrespective of nationality, fog, was in this case actually to be a very real friend to our trawler; for in thick weather and the vicinity of a rock-bound coast full of hidden dangers, skippers of the ore ships would naturally be inclined to play for safety and stand so far out from the shore as to be in non-territorial waters. A further consideration was that owing to the effect of the magnetic ore on their compasses they could not afford to take undue navigational risks in thick weather. What they preferred was nice clear weather, so that they could hug the land.

The success of Tenby Castle was such that half a dozen other trawlers were selected and stationed off that coast except in the wild wintry months, and this idea, as we shall presently see, was developed still further, but it will assist our interest if we appreciate first the difficulties as exemplified in the case of the Tenby Castle. On the last day of June, 1915, this trawler was about five miles N.E. of the Kya Islet, and it was not quite midday, when she sighted a steamer coming down from Nero Sound; so she closed her and read her name, Pallas. Inasmuch as the latter was showing no colours, Tenby Castle now hoisted the White Ensign and the international signal to stop immediately. This was ignored, so the trawler came round and saw she was a German ship belonging to Flensburg, and fired a shot across the enemy’s bow. The German then stopped her engines, ported her helm, and headed in the direction of the coast, having a certain amount of way on. The trawler closed and ordered her to show her colours, but the German declined; so the latter was then told to steer to the westward, which he also refused to do. Lieutenant Randell, informing him now that he would give him five minutes in which to make up his mind either to come with him or be sunk, sent a wireless signal informing H.M. ships of the Tenth Cruiser Squadron, then went alongside the German and put an armed guard aboard; but the captain of Pallas rang down for full speed ahead and starboarded his helm, whereupon Tenby Castle fired a couple of shots at the steamer’s steering gear on the poop, damaging it. The German stopped his engines once more, but the ship was gradually drawing towards the shore, so that when Victorian arrived Pallas was about two and a half miles from the land, thus being just within territorial waters, and had to be released. There had been no casualties.

The next incident occurred a week later. At ten minutes to six on the morning of July 7 Tenby Castle was lying off the western entrance of the West Fjord, the weather being thick and rainy, when a large steamer was seen to the N.N.W., so Tenby Castle put on full speed and ordered her to stop. This was the Swedish S.S. Malmland, with about 7,000 tons of magnetic ore. After being ordered to follow the trawler, Malmland put on full speed and drew ahead; so she was made to keep right astern at reduced speed, and just before half-past eight that morning was handed over to H.M.S. India of the above-mentioned cruiser squadron. The day passed, and it was a few minutes after midnight when this trawler, again lying off the West Fjord, sighted a steamer coming down from Narvik. A shot was fired across the steamer’s bows, and on rounding-to under the steamship’s stern it was observed that she was the German S.S. Frederick Arp, of Hamburg. She was ordered to stop, then the trawler closed and ordered the steamer to follow. The German refused to obey and steamed towards the land, so the Tenby Castle was compelled to fire a shot into his quarter, and this caused him to stop. After he had several times refused to follow, Lieutenant Randell gave him five minutes and informed him he would either have to accompany the trawler or else be sunk. The five minutes passed, the obstinate German still declined, and two minutes later put his engines ahead and made towards the shore. It was now an hour since the ship had first been sighted, so there was nothing for it but for the trawler to sink her, and she was shelled at the water-line and sunk four and a half miles away from the nearest land, her crew of thirteen being handed over a few hours later to H.M.S. India. Thus a cargo of 4,000 tons of magnetic ore was prevented from reaching Germany.

Now, it was quite obvious that the information of these incidents would not be long in reaching Germany from an agent via Norway. The German Captain Gayer has stated since the war that news reached Germany that ‘an English auxiliary cruiser was permanently stationed’ off West Fjord, whose task, he says, was ‘to seize and sink the German steamers coming with minerals from Narvik.’ Therefore, on August 3, Germany despatched U 22 from Borkum to West Fjord, and this craft had scarcely taken up her position when she saw the armed merchant cruiser India enter West Fjord and torpedoed her at long range, so that India was sunk. Gayer, who occupied during the war a high administrative position in the U-boat service, adds the following statement: ‘It was,’ he remarks, ‘one of the few instances in which a submarine found with such precision the object of attack really intended for it, when the information had been given by an agent.’

We pass over the intervening years and come to February, 1918. On the nineteenth of that month the Q-ship Tay and Tyne had left Lerwick, in the Shetlands, to perform similar work off the Norwegian coast, where she arrived on the twenty-second. This was a little 557-ton steamer, which had been requisitioned at the end of the previous July and fitted out at Lowestoft with a 4-inch gun aft, suitably hidden, and a couple of 12-pounders. She was a single-screw ship, built at Dundee in 1909, having a funnel, two masts, and the usual derricks. In addition to her guns she carried one torpedo tube and also smoke-making apparatus. She was commanded by Lieutenant Mack, R.N., with whom Lieutenant G. H. P. Muhlhauser, R.N.R., went as second in command, both of these officers, as the reader will remember, having served together in the Q-sailing-ship Result. Having commissioned the new ship, Lieutenant Mack then took her from Lowestoft to the secluded area of the Wash in order to practise gunnery and the ‘panic’ party arrangements. Months passed, but on February 22 something of interest happened, for some distance below the Vigten Islands a couple of steamers were sighted, so course was then altered to cut off the one that was bound to the southward. When 1,000 yards away the latter hoisted German colours, so Tay and Tyne (alias Cheriton and Dundreary) hoisted the international signal ‘M.N.’ to stop immediately. This ship was the Dusseldorf, a nine-year-old, typical German flush-decked tramp of 1,200 tons, with 1,700 tons of magnetic ore on board. As she disregarded the signal, a shell was fired across her bows, and this caused her to stop and hoist the answering pennant. Lieutenant Mack then steamed round the stern, keeping her covered all the time with his gun, and now took up station inshore of the German.

Dusseldorf had been completely taken by surprise, and never supposed that this little steamer could possibly be a trap-ship. Tay and Tyne lowered a boat containing several of the British crew, under Lieutenant Muhlhauser, armed with revolvers and rifles, and this guard then boarded the enemy, on board whom were found a couple of Norwegian Customs House officials and two Norse pilots. Lieutenant Muhlhauser then ordered the German captain to muster his crew, which he promptly did, and now the terrified crew were given five minutes to collect their clothes. The captain handed over the ship’s papers and protested that the ship was in territorial waters. Eleven Germans and the four Norwegians were then transferred to the Q-ship, who landed the four Norwegians in the Dusseldorf’s boat at Sves Fjord, and this boat they were allowed to keep. The British boarding party had consisted of a dozen men, but Lieutenant Muhlhauser sent three back to the Q-ship, and retained three German stokers and the two German engineers in order to get the prize back to England, these five men working under the supervision of one of the Tay and Tyne’s crew.

Having received orders to proceed, Lieutenant Muhlhauser then began to take the Dusseldorf across the North Sea. I am indebted to him for having allowed me to see his private diary of this voyage, and I think it well illustrates the unexpected and surprising difficulties with which Q-ship officers so frequently found themselves confronted. Having parted company with the Tay and Tyne, Dusseldorf’s new captain proceeded to look for navigational facilities, but in this respect she was amazingly ill-found. The only chart available showed just a small portion of the North Sea, and there was no sextant in the ship. This was a delightful predicament, for with all her magnetic ore it could be taken for certain that the compass would have serious deviation, and, having regard to the number of minefields in the North Sea and the physical dangers of the east coast of Scotland, it was a gloomy prelude to crossing from one side to the other.

Having been round the ship, it was now possible to ascertain her character. She was not a thing of beauty, there was no electric light, the engine-room was in a neglected condition, and round it were the engineers’ cabins, the skipper and mate being berthed in a deckhouse under the bridge. However, as the prize dipped to the North Sea swell it was a joy to realize that all the hundreds of tons of ore would not reach Germany. At this late stage of the war she was very short of this commodity, and the loss to her would be felt. The Tay and Tyne had certainly made a most useful capture. Fortunately there was found plenty of food in Dusseldorf, and enough coal for about three weeks, so if only a few days’ fine, clear weather could be ensured, the ship would soon be across and anchored in a British harbour. That, of course, was always supposing there was no encountering of mines or torpedoes.

By dusk of the first day the Halten Lighthouse (Lat. 64.10 N., Long. 9.25 E.) was made out, and then the night set in. For some time the glass had been falling, and before the morning it was blowing a gale of wind with a heavy sea. Loaded with such a cargo Dusseldorf made very heavy weather, and was like a half-tide rock most of the time, and during the next day made only 30 miles in twenty-four hours! Strictly speaking, this is not the North Sea but the Atlantic Ocean, and February is as bad a month as you could choose to be off this Norwegian coast in a ship that could make good only a mile an hour. By the afternoon of the twenty-fourth the Romsdal Islands had been sighted, and then, fearing lest the enemy might have received news of the capture and sent out some of his light forces, the ship was kept well out from the shore. The Germans should never get this ore, and arrangements were made to sink her rather than give her up.

With no chart, a doubtful compass, and so few appliances, was there ever an Atlantic voyage made under more casual circumstances? Bearings were taken of the Pole Star and Sirius in order to get a check on the compass, and the ship proceeded roughly on a W.S.W. course. During the twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth it blew a westerly gale, and the seas crashed over her without mercy. Owing to the cargo being heavy and stowed low, the Dusseldorf displayed a quick, lively roll, and already had broken down twice, when for a third time on the evening of the twenty-sixth she again stopped. She was now four days out, and the captain was a little anxious as to his position, but it was impossible to ascertain it. A cast of the lead was taken and bottom was found at thirty fathoms. From this it was assumed that they were now somewhere near the Outer Skerries (East of the Shetlands); and inasmuch as it was believed there was a German minefield, laid this year, not far away, anxiety was in nowise lessened. As soon as the repairs had been effected, course was altered to south-east for 16 miles, then south for the same distance, and north-west in the hope of making the land. This was done, but no land appeared, and it was blowing a gale from the north-west. Whether the ship was now in the North Sea or whether she had overshot the Shetlands and got the other side of Scotland, who could say? Neither the error of the compass nor the error of the log could be known. It was now the twenty-seventh, and they might be north, south, east, or west of the Shetlands, but, on the whole, Lieutenant Muhlhauser believed he was in the North Sea, so decided to run south until well clear of the Moray Firth minefields, and then south-west until the land was picked up.

The twenty-eighth of February passed without land being sighted, and there was always the horrible possibility that suddenly the ship might strike the shore in the darkness. It was a long-drawn-out period of suspense, aggravated by bad weather and the presence of mines and submarines. But as spring follows winter and dawn comes after night, so at length there came relief. At six in the morning of the first of March a light was picked up on the starboard bow, which, on consulting a nautical almanack, was identified as the Bell Rock (east of the Tay). Continuing further south, two trawlers and an armed yacht were sighted off May Island, so a signal was sent through the yacht to Admiral Startin at Granton reporting the arrival of a prize captured by Tay and Tyne, and, in due course, having steamed up the Firth of Forth, Dusseldorf at last came to anchor and reported herself. It had been a plucky voyage made under the worst conditions, and many an officer has been decorated for an achievement less than this.

As for Tay and Tyne, she, too, had passed through a trying period. After landing the Norwegian pilots and Customs House officials in Sves Fjord she had steamed out to sea and made bad weather of the gale, water even pouring into the engine-room; but she had been saved from foundering by taking shelter in a Norwegian fjord, and next day cruised about the coast looking for more ore ships, but had no further luck, so on February 25 shaped a course for Lerwick, where she duly arrived, and the German prisoners were taken out of the fo’c’sle and handed over to the naval authorities.

In the following month Tay and Tyne, accompanied by another Q-ship named the Glendale, was again off the Norwegian coast on the look-out for ore ships, just as in Elizabethan days our ancestral seamen were in a western sea looking out for the Spanish ships with their rich cargoes. Glendale (alias Speedwell II. and Q 23) was a disguised trawler of 273 tons belonging to Granton, and armed with a couple of 12-pounders, a 6-pounder, and two torpedoes. On the twenty-first of March, Glendale was off the Oxnaes Lighthouse when she captured the German S.S. Valeria with 2,200 tons of ore. In vile weather these three ships then started to cross to Lerwick, but, after they had got part of the way across, Valeria’s small supply of coal gave out, so on the twenty-third she had to be abandoned and then sunk by the shelling from the two Q-ships, the crew having been previously taken off by boats, while both Q-ships poured oil on to the sea. Although Valeria never reached a British port this was most useful work; for not only was the ore prevented from reaching Germany, but they were deprived of a brand-new 1,000-ton ship. Her captain, who, together with the rest of the crew, was brought into Lerwick, had only just left the German Navy, and this was his first trip. Incidents such as these show what excellent service can be rendered in naval warfare irrespective of the size of ships and of adverse circumstances, provided only that the officers have zeal and determination. The risks run by these two small ships were very great when we consider the manner in which our Scandinavian convoys had been cut up in spite of destroyer protection. Conversely, seeing how necessary for the prosecution of the war these supplies of ore were to Germany, is it not a little surprising that she did not station a submarine off the Norwegian coast to act as escort, submerged, and then torpedo the Tay and Tyne as soon as she began to close the ore ship? One of her smaller submarines could surely have been spared for such an undertaking, and it would have been, from their point of view, more than worth while.

Finally, we have to relate the fight of another small coasting steamer transformed into a Q-ship. This was the Stockforce (alias Charyce), which had been requisitioned at Cardiff at the beginning of 1918, and then armed with a couple of 4-inch guns, a 12-pounder, and a 3-pounder. Her captain was Lieutenant Harold Auten, D.S.C., R.N.R., who had had a great deal of experience in Q-ships under Admiral Bayly, and had recently commanded the Q-ship Heather. On the thirtieth of July, 1918, Stockforce was about 25 miles south-west of the Start, steaming along a westerly course at 7½ knots, the time being just before five in the afternoon, when the track of a torpedo was seen on the starboard beam coming straight on for the ship. The crew were sent to their stations, the helm was put hard aport and engines full speed astern, in the hope of avoiding the torpedo; but it was too late. The ship was struck on the starboard side abreast of No. 1. hatch, putting the forward gun out of action, entirely wrecking the fore part of the ship, including the bridge, and wounding three ratings and an officer.

As soon as the torpedo had exploded there came a tremendous shower of timber, which had been packed in the hold for flotation purposes, and besides these 12-pounder shells, hatches, and other debris came falling on to the bridge and fore part of the ship, wounding the first lieutenant, the navigating officer, two ratings, and adding to the injuries of the forward gun. All this had happened as the result of one torpedo. The enemy, perhaps, being homeward bound with a spare torpedo in his tube, had not hesitated to use such a weapon on a small coaster instead of employing his guns. Stockforce had been fairly caught and was settling down by the head. The ‘abandon ship’ party then cleared away their boat and went through their usual make-believe, whilst the ship’s surgeon had the wounded taken down to the ’tween deck, where their injuries could be attended to. Here it was none too safe, for the bulkheads had been weakened by the explosion so that the water flowed aft, flooding the magazine and ’tween decks to a depth of three feet, and thereby rendering the work of the surgeon not merely difficult but hazardous.

Whilst the ‘panic’ party were rowing ahead of the ship, the rest lay at their stations on board, behaving with the greatest equanimity and coolness, while Lieutenant Auten, as the fore-control and bridge were out of action, exercised his command from the after gunhouse. Five minutes later the submarine rose to the surface half a mile distant, and, being very shy, remained there for a quarter of an hour carefully watching Stockforce for any suspicious move. In accordance with the training, the ‘panic’ party then began to row down the port side towards the port quarter so as to draw the enemy on, and this manoeuvre succeeded in fooling the German, who now came down the port side as required, being only about three hundred yards away. As soon as the enemy was full on the beam of Stockforce, the latter handed him the surprise packet. It was now 5.40 p.m. as both 4-inch guns opened fire from the Q-ship. The first round from the after gun passed over the conning-tower, carrying away the wireless and one of the periscopes, the second shell hitting the conning-tower in the centre and blowing it away, sending high into the air a man who was in the conning-tower.

Stockforce’s second 4-inch gun with her first shot hit the enemy on the water-line at the base where the conning-tower had been, tearing the submarine right open and blowing out many of the crew. A large volume of blue smoke began to pour out of the U-boat, and shell after shell was then poured into the German until she sank by the stern, by which time twenty direct hits had been obtained. The enemy submerged, leaving a quantity of debris on the water, and was never seen again. But in the meantime Stockforce was in a critical condition, and every attempt now was made to save her from foundering. Having recalled the ‘panic’ party, the engines were put full speed ahead in the effort to reach the nearest land and beach her, as she was rapidly listing to starboard and going down by the head. At 6.30 p.m. two trawlers were sighted who closed the ship, and as Stockforce was already practically awash forward and along most of the starboard side, all the wounded and half the men were now transferred to one of these trawlers.

With a volunteer crew the Q-ship then went ahead again, but the engine-room was leaking badly, and in the stokehold there were several feet of water, and it was clear that the life of Stockforce was a matter of a very short while, for the water in both engine-room and stokehold began now to rise rapidly and the ship was about to sink. But two British torpedo-boats had now arrived, and at 5.15 p.m., when off Bolt Tail, with Plymouth Sound only a few miles off, the Stockforce’s captain had to send the rest of the ship’s company from the sinking ship, while he remained on board with only the first lieutenant. Five minutes later a dinghy from one of the torpedo-boats fetched them also, and after only another five minutes Stockforce sank. It had been a plucky fight and a fine endeavour to save the ship, but this was not to be successful. Handsome awards were made in respect of these efforts, the coveted Victoria Cross being conferred on Lieutenant Auten, whilst the Distinguished Service Cross was bestowed on Lieutenant H. F. Rainey, R.N.R., Lieutenant L. E. Workman, R.N.R., Lieutenant W. J. Grey, R.N.R., Sub-Lieutenant G. S. Anakin, R.N.R., Assistant-Paymaster A. D. Davis, R.N.R., and Surgeon-Probationer G. E. Strahan, R.N.V.R.

This last fight represents Q-ship warfare at its highest point of development. We have here the experienced officers of each nation, knowing all the tricks of their highly specialized profession, fighting each other in the most cunningly devised craft. Each of these vessels represented all that could be done by a combination of intellect and engineering skill, so that when the two should meet in the sea arena the fight could not fail to be interesting. After the preliminary moves had been made how would matters stand? The answer is that in the final appeal it was largely a matter of luck. Now, in the duel we have just witnessed the first round of the match was undoubtedly won by the submarine, whose torpedo got home and wrought such damage that the ship was doomed from the first. Round number two, when the ‘panic’ party succeeded in luring the enemy on to the requisite range and bearing, was distinctly in favour of Stockforce. So also was round three, in which she managed to shell him so thoroughly. But here the element of luck enters and characterizes the rest of the day. To all intents and purposes the submarine was destroyed and sunk; whereas, in point of fact, notwithstanding her grievous wounds, she managed to get back home. It was touch-and-go with her, as it had been with von Spiegel’s submarine after being shelled by the Prize, but good fortune just weighed the scales and prevented a loss. On the other hand, Stockforce might have had the luck just to keep afloat a few more miles and get into Plymouth Sound, but as it was she sank a little too soon, and thus the actual result of the encounter might by some be called indecisive, or even in favour of the enemy. This is not so. To us the loss of a small coaster turned temporarily into a man-of-war was of little consequence. A similar ship, the Suffolk Coast, would soon be picked up and then turned over to the dockyard experts to be fitted out; but in the case of a submarine there were only limited numbers. That particular U-boat would now have a long list of defects and be a non-combatant for a long time, and her crew would morally be seriously affected by their miraculous escape, and they would not forget to pass on their impressions to their opposite numbers in other submarines.

It was rather the cumulative effect of Q-ships, destroyers, mines, auxiliary patrol craft, depth charges, hydrophones, convoys, and good staff work which broke the spirit of the German submarine menace, so that if the war had continued much longer U-boats would have been thwarted except within certain limits of the North Sea. Every weapon has its rise and fall in the sphere of usefulness; the shell is repelled by armour-plate, the Zeppelin is destroyed by the aircraft, and so on. So it was with the Q-ship. It came into being at a time when no other method seemed likely to deal with submarines adequately. It became successful, it rose into popularity to its logical peak, and then began to wane in usefulness as the submarine re-adapted herself to these new conditions. Afterwards came the period when the mine barrages in the Heligoland Bight, in the Dover Strait, and across the northern end of the North Sea, and the hydrophones, in swiftly moving light craft, made the life of any submarine precarious in his going and coming. The hydrophone has made such wonderful developments since the war that in the future within the narrow seas a submarine would find life a little too thrilling to be pleasant.

But for a long period the Q-ship did wonders, and to the officers and men of this service for their bravery and endurance we owe much. They were taking enormous risks, and they turned these risks into successes of great magnitude as long as ever the game was possible. Most, though not all, of the ships and officers and men came from the Mercantile Marine, and in this special force we see the perfect co-operation between the two branches of our national sea service for the good of the Empire. The Royal Navy could teach them all that was to be known about the technicalities of fighting, could provide them with guns and expert gunners, could give them all the facilities of His Majesty’s dockyards, whilst at the same time the Mercantile Marine provided the ships and the personnel who knew what were the normal habits and appearances of a tramp, a collier, or a coaster. Originally known as special service ships, as decoys, then as Q-ships, these vessels during 1917 and 1918 were known as H.M.S. So-and-So, but it was under the designation of Q-ships that they reached their pinnacle of fame, and as such they will always be known, so it has been thought well thus to describe them in these pages. But whether we think of them as mystery ships or as properly commissioned vessels of His Majesty’s Navy, there will ever remain for them a niche in our great sea story, and the valour of all ranks and ratings in all kinds of these odd craft, amid every possible condition of difficulty and danger, should be to those who come after an immortal lesson and a standard of duty to the rising race of British seamanhood. Otherwise these men toiled and endured and died in vain.