Produced by R.G.P.M. van Giesen
cover art]
The Thick of the Frayat Zeebrugge
BYPERCY F. WESTERMANLIEUT. R.A.F.
No boy alive will be able to peruse Mr. Westerman's pageswithout a quickening of his pulses."--Outlook.
Winning his Wings: A Story of the R. A. F. The Thick of the Fray at Zeebrugge: April, 1918. With Beatty off Jutland: A Romance of the Great Sea Fight. The Submarine Hunters: A Story of Naval Patrol Work. A Lively Bit of the Front: A Tale of the New Zealand Rifles on the Western Front. A Sub and a Submarine: The Story of H.M. Submarine R19 in the Great War. Under the White Ensign: A Naval Story of the Great War. The Dispatch-Riders: The Adventures of Two British Motor-cyclists with the Belgian Forces. The Sea-girt Fortress: A Story of Heligoland. Rounding up the Raider: A Naval Story of the Great War. The Fight for Constantinople: A Tale of the Gallipoli Peninsula. Captured at Tripoli: A Tale of Adventure. The Quest of the "Golden Hope": A Seventeenth- century Story of Adventure. A Lad of Grit: A Story of Restoration Times.
LONDON: BLACKIE & SON, LTD.. 50 OLD BAILEY, E.C.
THE U-BOAT DIVED SO ABRUPTLY THAT HER RUDDERS ANDTWIN-SCREWS WERE CLEAR OF THE WATER (Frontispiece)]
The Thick of the Frayat ZeebruggeApril, 1918
BY
PERCY F. WESTERMAN
Author of "Winning His Wings""With Beatty off Jutland""The Submarine Hunters"&c. &c.
_Illustrated by W. Edward Wigfull_
BLACKIE AND SON LIMITEDLONDON GLASGOW AND BOMBAY
Contents
CHAP.
I. BOUND NORTH II. STRAFED III. COUNT OTTO IV. TORPEDOED V. IN THE WHALER VI. A PRISONER OF WAR VII. M.-L. 4452 VIII. ON PATROL IX. AT ZEEBRUGGE X. PREPARATIONS XI. THE LONE AIR-RAIDER XII. ST. GEORGE'S EVE XIII. THE ATTACK ON THE MOLE XIV. THE NIGHT OF NIGHTS XV. THE PASSING OF M.-L. 4452 XVI. THE RETURN FROM ZEEBRUGGE XVII. "GOOD OLD 'VINDICTIVE'!" XVIII. OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH XIX. THE GREAT SURRENDER
Illustrations
THE U-BOAT DIVED SO ABRUPTLY THAT HER RUDDERS AND TWIN-SCREWS WERE CLEAR OF THE WATER Frontispiece
"ENGLISCH OFFIZIER-PIG!" HE SHOUTED. "WE YOU TAKE PRISONER"
THE BIPLANE HAD GOT INTO A SPINNING NOSE-DIVE
THE PILOT THREW A BOMB FULL IN THE FACE OF A PRUSSIAN UNTER-LEUTNANT
"SHE'S GOING, LADS!" SHOUTED BRANSCOMBE
THE THICK OF THEFRAY AT ZEEBRUGGE
CHAPTER I
Bound North
"Wonder if she'll do it in time," thought Sub-lieutenant Alec Seton,R.N., as he stolidly paced the stone-paved platform. For thetwentieth time in the last two hours he had consulted his wristletwatch and compared it with the smoke-begrimed station clock. "Aproper lash-up if she doesn't."
It was 1.40 a.m. on a certain Monday in March of the year of grace1918. Seton, warned by telegram to rejoin his ship, H.M. Torpedo-boatDestroyer _Bolero_, had been handicapped by reason of the Sundaytrain service. Due to report at Rosyth at 10 a.m. he found himself atmidnight held up at Leeds with the unpleasant prospect of having towait until 1.50 a.m. before the mail train took him on to Edinburgh.
Seton had been spending part of a well-earned spell of leave at hisparents' house in the Peak District. An urgent message demanded hisrecall before half the period of leave had expired, which was nounusual occurrence in war-time. What was exasperating was the factthat the wire had been delivered at 6 p.m. on Sunday, and even byrushing off and catching the first available train Alec found, onperusing the time-table and consulting various railway officials,that it would be impossible to arrive at Edinburgh before twentyminutes minutes to eight on Monday morning. That left, only a littlemore than two hours to continue his journey to Inverkeithing and thenon to Rosyth. Even then he had no idea where the _Bolero_ was lying,whether she was alongside the jetty or on moorings out on the Forth.To say the least it was "cutting things a bit fine", but it was apoint of honour that, if humanly possible, Seton should reporthimself on board at the hour specified.
"An' we were going into dock for eighteen days for refit," mused theSub. "Wonder what's butted in to upset things? Some stunt over theother side, or only another sea-trip out and home again, withoutcatching sight of a measly Hun. By Jove, I'm hungry. I'm experiencingan unpleasant feeling in a certain sector of the front."
Vainly he regretted that on his hasty departure he had omitted toprovide himself with refreshment. Counting on finding arestaurant-car he had been disappointed; while, on arriving at Leeds,he found it impossible at that hour to get a meal at an hotel. Thesight of half a dozen Tommies in full field-kit emerging from aY.M.C.A. refreshment-room, and dilating upon the excellence of thehot coffee and cakes, filled him with envious desires, which,however, did little to satisfy the cravings of the inner man.
"Ah, I've no belt to tighten," he soliloquized grimly. "Six or sevenmore hours to go, and not a chance of a snack. Hallo, what's this?Out of tobacco, too, by Jove." Very ruefully Alec surveyed his wornand trusted pouch. Only a pinch of dried dust remained.
"The last straw," he muttered. "Must grin and bear it, I suppose. I'drather be keeping middle watch somewhere in the North Sea."
A truck, propelled by an undersized man, came into view. The truckwas surmounted by a green box with glass panels and brass rails. Froma small funnel steam was issuing. Already half a dozen belatedpassengers were crowding round the new arrival.
"A perambulating coffee-stall," declared Alec. "My luck's turned."
Two minutes later he was sampling the wares of the itinerant vendor.The result was not only disappointing but repugnant, for thebeverage, termed coffee by the man presiding over the stall, bore astrong resemblance to greasy water, while the cake was more likesawdust than war-bread at its worst.
Disgustedly Alec left his purchase practically untouched, and resumedhis tedious beat up and down the draughty platform, until thelong-expected night mail train pulled up at the station.
Through the steam-laden atmosphere Alec made his way, trying to findan unoccupied compartment. Foiled in this direction he edged alongthe corridor until he almost cannoned into a uniformed attendant.
"All sleeping compartments engaged, sir," replied the man; "but I'llfind you a smoker with only one other passenger. This way, sir."
He threw open the blind-drawn sliding door, and switched on one ofthe four electric lights. One of the seats was unoccupied. On theother was stretched a somnolent figure almost completely enveloped ina large fawn rug, bedizened with the Railway Company's monogram. Thesleeper's face was turned towards the partition. On the rack overheadwere two weather-beaten portmanteaux, and a naval cap with atarnished R.N.V.R. badge.
Alec slipped half-a-crown into the attendant's hand.
"No thanks," he replied in answer to the man's inquiry; "I'll bequite comfortable in the circs. Sorry there isn't a tobacco-stall onthe train."
He stowed his gear to his satisfaction, patted his emptytobacco-pouch to make sure for the fifth time that it was empty, andthen contemplated his soundly-sleeping companion.
"Since it seems that I've a mouldy messmate," he soliloquized, "thebest that I can do is to follow his example and turn in."
Switching off the solitary light Alec stretched himself upon theseat, using his great-coat as a pillow. He was asleep before thetrain left Leeds.
Beyond a slight return to wakefulness as the train pulled up atCarlisle, Alec slept soundly until the first gleam of dawn began tosteal through the carriage windows.
He glanced at his wristlet watch. It was half-past five. Sitting uphe stretched his
cramped limbs.
"By Jove, I am hungry," he muttered. "Won't I make up for it when Iget aboard."
Almost the next moment all sense of physical discomfort vanished, ashe caught sight of the wonderful vista that met his view. The trainwas climbing the steep ascent of the hills of Roxburgh. Snow lay deepupon the ground, while the peaks were only partly visible in the greymorning mists. Alec had seen many varieties of scenery in widelydifferent parts of the world, but, as an admirer of nature, he wasnever tired of "viewing the land".
"Magnificent!" he murmured enthusiastically. "It's worth a night inthe train. I've seen the Peak of Teneriffe at sunrise, but ourcountry takes a lot of beating."
A swirling cloud of steam beat against the window pane, momentarilyobscuring the outlook. Before it cleared Alec was astonished to hearhis name shouted in boisterous tones.
"Alec Seton, by all the powers! What, in the name of all that'swonderful, brings you here?"
Seton's "mouldy messmate" was sitting up and rubbing his eyes--abronzed, shock-headed youth, who looked, despite his uniform, littlemore than a schoolboy. His features expanded into a broad grin ofwhole-hearted delight as he extended a large, horny hand.
For a brief instant Alec was at a loss to recognize hisfellow-traveller, then--
"Branscombe, my festive buccaneer."
Guy Branscombe, Sub-lieutenant, R.N.V.R., was one of those war-timeproductions whose existence, as members of the "band of brothers"under the White Ensign, has been amply justified. He had been acandidate for Osborne, but had failed to satisfy the examiners. Now,taking advantage of his undoubted skill as an amateur yachtsman, hewas doing good service both in deep-sea and coastal navigation. Thesetwo branches are widely distinct. Generally speaking, officers of the"pukka" navy are indifferent navigators in coastal waters. Inside the"five fathom line" they often lack the confidence that the skilledamateur possesses. Thus the Admiralty soon found the need to acceptthe offers of British yachtsmen to take command of the shoal of"M.-L.'s"--otherwise Coastal Motor-Launches--the war record of whichshowed that official confidence had not been misplaced.
In the early days of the war the newly-constituted Motor-Boat Reservewas frequently a subject for ridicule. "Harry Tate's Navy", as it wascalled, figured in cheap comic papers, and was spoken of jestingly bymisinformed critics. True, there were incompetents, who managed toobtain temporary commissions on the strength of baneful influence;but these were soon weeded out, and the zealous, hard-working menremained to "carry on". For the first three years of war the M.-L.'swere rarely if ever in the limelight. Not that they wanted to be;they were content to work whole-heartedly as units of the GreatSilent Navy, until even official reticence and the muzzle of thePress Censor failed to hide from public notice the stirring deeds ofthe officers and men of the puny but doughty M.-L.'s.
"I'm taking over M.-L. 4452," explained Branscombe, when the two menhad settled down to the contents of a Thermos and biscuits--for theR.N.V.R. man had taken the precaution to fortify himself amplyagainst the discomforts of long railway journeys. "She's a brand-newhooker, just handed over at Dumbarton by the contractors. We're boundsouth for----" He hesitated. Alec looked at him inquiringly andraised his eyebrows.
"Dover?" asked the R.N. sub.
"Yes--Dover," replied Guy.
"Lucky blighter," rejoined Seton "Wish I had the chance. There'salways something doing in the 'Wet Triangle'. Up here with the GrandFleet it's the usual out-and-in stunt, with no chance of tumblingacross anything more than a Fritz or a mine. Absolute boredom, andall because the Huns won't come out. Now at Dover--any stunt on?"
"Can't say, old man," replied Branscombe with perfect truth. As amatter of fact the R.N.V.R. officer was "in the know". Greatoperations, as to which all concerned were bound to secrecy, wereimpending; the risk was great, and the chance of honourcorrespondingly so; and since success depended upon a sphinx-likesilence the secret was being well kept. Branscombe even knew of acase in which two life-long chums were shipmates for three weeks, andalthough each was detailed off for duty in the forthcoming operationsneither hinted to the other that it was his luck to be chosen for thestunt.
The conversation turned into other channels, talking "shop" beingtabooed as far as possible, and punctually to time the two chumsfound themselves on Waverley Station platform with ten minutes towait for the train that was to take them to theirdestination--Inverkeithing and Rosyth.