Chapter XXV Max Hilliger’s Satisfaction
Max Hilliger’s declaration that he would not be satisfied until Lieutenant Hermann Körner and he had put a torpedo into a British battleship was not long in being fulfilled.
How they discovered that such a ship was to be found in a particular position on the North Sea at a particular time is a matter which cannot be explained. It is certain that the Germans succeeded in discovering many of the movements and intended movements of the British Fleet which were believed to be secret, and of which even many highly-placed British naval officers were profoundly ignorant. Doubtless their spy system and their methods of communication were perfectly well organised and established long before the outbreak of war.
By whatsoever means he received his information, Lieutenant Körner expected the squadron to pass southward, and he prepared to carry out his instructions by bringing his submarine within striking distance at the anticipated moment.
It was a wild, dark winter’s night, bitterly cold, with a fierce wind blowing from the north-east. Submarines are not commonly supposed to be of great use in the darkness; their periscopes are then blind. But Körner boldly kept the U50 on the surface, trusting to the high waves to hide her betraying conning-tower from watchful eyes and from the beams of searchlights.
But as an additional measure of protection and deception he had hoisted a pair of brown lugsails on her two temporary masts, so that from a distance she might have the appearance of an innocent fishing boat. This ruse was a development and improvement of Max Hilliger’s idea of concealing a submarine within the body of a larger boat.
Hour after weary hour went by; but no light, no steamer’s smoke; could be seen through the inky darkness. Still he waited, while the submarine rocked and tossed and rolled on the giant waves, and the wind shrieked angrily.
Towards midnight a tiny masthead light blinked fitfully through the curtain of driving sleet.
“They come!” said Körner from his post in the conning-tower. He had seen a green starboard light gleam wanly against an approaching vessel’s black hull.
“It is only a fishing trawler making for home,” Max Hilliger declared with a shiver. “Let us submerge and get out of the cold and wet.”
“Not yet, not yet,” returned Körner. “They will surely come. We are in their track. They cannot have turned back. Our own battleships could weather a worse storm than this, and so could they. Whatever else the cowardly English are afraid of, they are not afraid of the sea. I believe the blood in their veins is made of salt water. If you are cold, my friend, go below and warm yourself. Already it is a long time since you had supper.”
Max crept below like a dog into its kennel and took some food and a drink of hot coffee in the warmth of the engine-room. The warmth made him sleepy, and he did not return to the conning-tower until he was called.
Körner and the quarter-master were at their posts. From their point of observation they had seen the black shapes of an advancing squadron of battleships, light cruisers, and torpedo-boat destroyers. They could be British only, since no German warship larger than a destroyer was permitted to put to sea. No lights were displayed, but a reflected glow from the furnaces mingled with the smoke rising from the blackness of the funnels, and the wash of spray as the vessels cut through the water showed whiter than the whiteness of the breaking waves.
The German seamen were at their quarters, the officers at the control stations, the engineers at work with the petrol motors, the gunners at the air-compressors for charging the torpedo tubes. All was quiet but for the ceaseless rattle of cranks and pistons and the whining of well-oiled wheels. The submarine was manoeuvred round as if to cross the bows of the British ships.
A couple of the destroyers went past, then a light cruiser. Next came the towering bulk of a Dreadnought, looming out of the darkness. Sparks of fire floated amid the thick volume of coal smoke from her foremost funnel; a shaft of light came through an open doorway on her high bridge.
“I believe it’s the Triumphant!” said Max Hilliger, at the lieutenant’s elbow.
It was at a point forward of the bridge, on the starboard side, that the torpedo was aimed. There was no possibility of its missing so huge a target. But to make certain of hitting a vital part well below the armoured belt a second torpedo was to be fired, and then the submarine would submerge and make good her escape.
On board the Triumphant the larger number of her officers and crew of nearly eight hundred men were below asleep when the fearful crash came. Hammocks and bunks were jerked up by the shock. The torpedo had missed the magazine by a few feet, but it burst through the stout plates, entering the dynamo-room, and all electricity, both for lighting and for wireless instruments, was shut off. The great ship at once listed over, and the order was given: “All hands on the upper deck.”
Two minutes after the first alarm, word was sent up from the engine-room to the captain on the bridge that flooding had begun in the boiler-room, and that no more steam could be got up. There could be no hope of running her towards land and beaching her. It was seen from the first that she could not be saved.
The engines were stopped and the engineers and stokers were ordered up on deck. They were scrambling up the ladders when the second torpedo struck her. Distress signals were fired, but her consorts were advised to stand off at a safe distance in case of a further attack.
For want of steam to work the hoists the boats had to be got clear by reeving a big rope round the deck and hauling upon it. With perfect discipline the men performed this difficult operation in total darkness while the sinking ship was being washed by mountainous waves.
All woodwork that could be seized upon and everything that would float was brought on deck for the men to cling to. They waited, hoping that the watertight compartments would keep her afloat until daylight; but at length the captain sang out:
“Into the water with you; she’s going!”
Then it was a matter of every man for himself. Some reached the boats before the ship went down, some were drawn under by the suction; many were picked up by one of the cruisers; but of all the ship’s company not more than two hundred came to land in safety, and even these, scantily clothed, had suffered terribly from exposure in the open boats.