Second Submarine Fight
We sailed out of Brest late in the afternoon of June 1st, having on board many notable passengers. The destroyers Nicholson and Wadsworth, two of our most famous sea-fighters, accompanied us. All hands were set for another attack. It was not long in coming. At 7:16 P. M. this same evening, the wake of a periscope was observed on the starboard quarter by Lieutenant Haltnorth, who quickly passed the word to the bridge where it was received by Lieutenant J. J. Jones, the Officer of the deck. A hurried message was sent in to the commanding Officer and at the same time the general alarm was sounded. The fire-control officer on the upper-structure took a prompt and accurate range on the hissing white menace of foam approaching so balefully in the wake of the setting sun. A few short seconds passed, the arrow on the engine room dial plate spun around to “full speed ahead,” and the whirr of the electric warnings quickened the ears of the officers and men on watch in the fire-rooms. The furnace doors flew open and in the streaming light with bent backs and broad shoulders, sturdy young Americans poured coal into the great fires.
A volume of thick black smoke issued from the funnels and at the same time number seven gun with a venomous roar, let go a shell of TNT, enveloped in lurid flame and smoke. Number five gun got busy. The breech-plug closed noiselessly, sharp click, the primer inserted accurately by the gun-captain, a smooth “Ready” from his lips, and number five gun hurled a shell of high explosive to blot out from the sea-scape one of the under-sea Hun boats.
Number seven gun shot again with a reverberating roar, followed again by number five, the only two guns that could bear upon the Prussian menace.
From the signal-bridge, a green and white submarine warning flag was fluttering and the destroyers Nicholson and Wadsworth, with their inboard sides awash, turned in a quick endeavor to charge the on-coming “sub.” The Nicholson was nearer and in few minutes number five and seven guns ceased firing, for the Nicholson was in direct range between our ship and the submarine, with huge volumes of black smoke pouring out of her funnels. The Nicholson made a circuit around the “sub” which had submerged and promptly and accurately laid a beautiful barrage of sixteen depth bombs all around the place of disappearance. The explosions from these depth charges shook the big Leviathan, nearly two miles away by this time. The Nicholson, her blinker lights flashing fitfully through the smoke clouds reported, “We saw periscope of submarine and laid barrage of depth charges around the spot. We will report to our Force Commander.”
The Wadsworth had by this time plowed her way up through the seas, but the Prussian terror of the deep had not taken too kindly to the overtures of friendship made by the Nicholson; and the Wadsworth signaled back to the Leviathan, “We see no submarine now.” Both gallant destroyers quickly turned and resumed their arduous duty of escorting the fast-moving Leviathan. Smoke was pouring from their funnels and a choppy sea made them bob up and down. A cloud of “V” shaped spray sparkled in the twilight as they circled in and out off the port and starboard bow of the queen of the transports.
Twilight in the western sky deepened into long shadows upon the water. The chaplain of the ship walked out to the windward side of the navigation bridge and offered the customary sunset prayer for the huge ship with its women and children passengers, its captain, officers and crew. This custom of evening prayer was practiced on board every evening at sunset and prefaced the silent evening prayers of the seamen on the decks, the gun-crew at the guns, the signal boys on the bridge, the quartermaster at the wheel and the brawny-chested firemen who stoked the big furnaces below. In the war-zone none of these brave lads were certain of seeing another sunrise, so before the ship was plunged into darkness each night they offered up, while at their different duties and stations, heartfelt prayers for themselves and their people and loved ones at home.
The Sunset Prayer at Sea
(Offered Every Evening at Sea by the Ship’s Chaplain)
Thou, O Lord, art in the midst of us, and Thine holy name is called upon by us; leave us not, O Lord our God.
O Lord, hear our prayer; and let our cry come unto Thee.
Remember, most gracious Virgin Mother, Star of the Sea, that never was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, implored thy aid and sought thy intercession, was left unaided. Inspired with this confidence, we fly to thee, Virgin of Virgins, our Mother, to thee we come; before thee we stand, sinful and sorrowful. Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not our petition; but in thy clemency hear and answer us. Amen.
Lord, save us waking, watch us sleeping that we may wake with Christ and rest in peace.
Visit, we beseech Thee, O Lord, our distant homes and families; Thine angels guard them with Thy peace and benediction. Bless this ship we beseech Thee and drive far from it all the snares of the enemy; guide it upon a tranquil course unto the wished-for-haven—guard our Captain, his officers and crew, and the soldier-troops and passengers committed to their care; let Thy holy angels dwell hereon to keep us in peace and let Thy blessings be always upon us. Through Jesus Christ, Thy Son, Our Lord.
Into Thy hands, O Lord, we commend ourselves.
Vouchsafe, O Lord, this night to keep us without harm.
May the Lord Almighty grant us a quiet night and a perfect end. May the Almighty and merciful Lord, the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost bless and preserve us all. Amen.
The ship pursued her course steadily during the night watches and the men relieved one another at midnight and at 4 A. M. The morning sun broke clear and clean over the eastern horizon and discovered to us that our gallant destroyers had left us during the darkness, proceeding by pre-arranged plan to a similar duty of escorting an east-bound transport loaded with troops. Our voyage continued without further excitement at a speed of twenty and a half knots. We arrived in New York the morning of June 8th and made fast to the dock with little difficulty. No sooner had our gangplank touched the dock than our mail clerk was seen heavily laden with eagerly-sought-for mail.