World War, 1914-1918 -- Naval operations -- Submarine; World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, British
‘Here we are,’ said Raymond, referring to his orders. ‘We leave at 3.0
p.m. It’ll be dark by then and we’ve got to anchor for the night. God
knows why. Get under weigh again at four in the morning on Saturday,
and arrive about four in the afternoon.’
‘Yes, that looks all right. What speed are you going to do?’
‘Ten knots steady.’
‘Then I’ll do about twenty-two zig-zag and keep ahead of you. You’ll
have to steer a straight course, I suppose.’
‘Yes, and if we see anything I shall dive at once. Don’t you worry
about me. You probably won’t be able to see me, but I shall look out
for myself and help you all I can if you have to put up a scrap.’
‘All right. You’ve got a copy of the secret signals for entering
Darlton?’
‘Yes, and they know we’re coming at every signal station down the
coast.’
‘No anchor lights, by the way.’
‘Rotten job this escorting business when it’s a submarine. Every one
suspects ’em, friend and foe alike. I expect there are patrols about
there at night, and that’s why we’ve got to anchor.’
‘Expect so. Anyway it’s not very far, only about 180 miles. How long
are you stopping in Darlton?’
‘I’m not. Got to return on Sunday. Rotten job escorting anyway. Had
quite a lot of it lately. Hate it.’
‘Well, that’s all arranged for, and now--yes, I think so,’ and together
they returned to the ward-room and rejoined the revellers.
The Engineering Commander was making a speech.
‘----most auspicious occasion,’ he was saying as they opened the door.
‘We are all heartily glad that our young friends are leaving us.’
(Hear, hear.) ‘In fact, I dare venture to say that there is not a
single dissentient voice.’ (Cries of ‘No, no.’) ‘But a time will come
when they will be seen once more in our midst.’ (Question.) ‘Will be
seen once more in our midst, to the sorrow of the Hun and delight of
the Deputy Naval Store Officer down at Darlton.’ (‘Yes, yes.’) ‘Do
not despair; it is not a British custom. We must hope for the best.
I trust you will all join me in speeding the departing nuisance and
drink damnation to “123,”’ and the orator subsided amidst thunders of
applause.
The Torpedo Lieutenant rose, calm and dignified, and eyed the members
of the ward room with a dissatisfied air.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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