Heart of War (19 page)

‘Yes, sir. Formation LSI – 10.'

The Captain looked round at the three of them – ‘Anyone feeling like taking a small bet, say ten bob, that we'll see a Hun ship this time?'

‘Not I, sir,' de Saumarez said, smiling. ‘I'm beginning to wonder if the German Fleet exists.'

The Captain said, ‘Well, I have a presentiment that this time we will, so I'll give you three to one – ten bob of yours, one pound ten of mine.'

‘Done, sir,' de Saumarez said. ‘If you'll excuse me, sir, I'd like to re-read the Standing Orders before we sail …'

Two-forty a.m.: the misty air, dense with salt, hung low over the sea. The armoured cruisers were shaking out into screening formation. On the bridge of
Penrith
Lieutenant Buchanan had the watch. The Captain, the Commander, and the Navigating Officer were all there, too – the Captain and the Pilot had been there since sailing; Tom Rowland was up for a brief visit after an hour's nap; as Commander he was the ship's general manager, and, in action, Damage Control Officer; he tried to stay away from the Captain when action was possible in order to lessen the risk of both of them being killed by the same shell. A signal lamp winked ahead: the yeoman of signals read – ‘From
Calliope
, sir … assume screening formation.' De Saumarez hurried into the charthouse, where he could turn on the light behind the blackened out scuttles. He came out again in a moment with a course, which he gave to Buchanan. Then he bent over the voice pipe and said – ‘Engine room … bridge. We'll need power for sixteen knots any minute.' The Captain did not move. The yeoman called, ‘Executive, sir!'

Looking back, Tom could just make out the battle fleet now, six divisions of them, each division consisting of four battleships – the divisions disposed in line abreast, the ships of each division in line ahead. The black smoke lay heavy across the sea, so that Tom could see only the leading ship or two of each line in their entirety; behind those only the masts showed, and the fluttering ensigns, flags, and pendants.

The yeoman called, ‘Signal from Commander-in-Chief to all flag and commanding officers … Fleet speed seventeen knots.'

Leach nodded without speaking. Tom saluted, left the bridge, and returned to his Damage Control Centre in the heart of the ship. The light strengthened. The masked northern sun rose, but the only sign of its presence in the sky was a thickening of the haze to the east, now dense with sea particles lit by the sun. The surface of the sea was calm and oily beginning to reflect a glare from the overcast sky. The ghostly fleet slid through it, silently, flags tugging at the halyards. Leach said, ‘We ought to be hearing something soon … if we're going to hear anything today.'

De Saumarez thought, we won't hear anything until we hear the sound of guns – if we do – for strict wireless silence had been imposed by the Commander-in-Chief since the beginning, only to be broken to report enemy in sight.

Two-twenty p.m. De Saumarez was still on the bridge, but dozing on his feet. His eyes smarted from the daylong glare on the sea. He had eaten a little lunch in the stripped wardroom an hour ago, and felt heavy, and wished he had not had that glass of sherry before the lunch. All he wanted was to go to his cabin, lie down, and let the gentle motion of the ship and the hum of the turbines waft him to sleep. Below, Tom waited, reading a book; he was ready.

A signal messenger came running up onto the bridge.
‘Galatea
has broken silence, sir. She has signalled to the Commander-in-Chief and to the Senior Officer Battle Cruiser Fleet – Enemy in sight two cruisers bearing south-south-east. Course unknown. Time of origin 1420.'

De Saumarez jerked wide awake and looked toward Leach. Leach said, ‘Where's
Galatea?
She ought to be south-south-east of here.'

He walked up and down the bridge. He stopped, facing de Saumarez – ‘My presentiment may come true after all, Pilot.' He picked up the Navy phone – ‘Tom?
Galatea's
sighted enemy cruisers. Take a look round the ship. I may be calling for action stations in a hurry. Tell Onstott to take preliminary action in the wardroom, so that he's ready to receive casualties there … Pilot, see what wavelength our W/T is monitoring. I want to be able to listen to
Galatea's
net, if they're the ones which have the enemy in sight.'

The same messenger returned, his face pale with excitement, his young eyes popping. He handed Leach a message, saying, ‘From Commander-in-Chief, sir, to all units of the battle fleet – Raise steam for full speed. Time of origin – 2.35 p.m.'

The messages came in, one by one as the minutes dragged by, all from
Galatea
, invisible over the southern horizon, to her own immediate commander, Vice Admiral Beatty of the Battle Cruiser Fleet, and to the overall Commander-in-Chief, Admiral Sir John Jellicoe.

Have sighted large amount of smoke as though from a fleet bearing east-north-east – 1435

Smoke seems to be of seven vessels besides cruisers and destroyers. They have turned northward
– 1445

‘That's Hipper's five battle cruisers and some escorting light craft,' Leach said. ‘Can't be anything else. I'm going to win that ten bob off you, Pilot …
and
we're going to have a real battle. Action Stations.' The buzzers sounded through the ship.

The two battle fleets advanced towards each other, like huge blindfolded prize fighters, each accompanied by little boys whose task was to find the enemy and lead his master to him … but the little boys were blindfolded, too. Admiral Beatty launched a seaplane to try to penetrate the enemy cruiser screen and locate the exact position of the German battle cruisers, but visibility was so poor that the seaplane's crew could not detect anything behind the German cruisers, which were already visible. Ships met, engaged each other with sudden brief violence, and passed on. Jellicoe waited, using his wireless as little as possible, for he commanded the more powerful fleet, and it was his task to lure Scheer, the German Commander-in-Chief, to battle on his own terms, and, if possible, without allowing the German fleet to escape back to its bases.

Three hours after clearing for action, the men now dozing and yawning at their stations, the cruiser next to
Penrith
in the 4th Light Cruiser Squadron's line abreast formation, H.M.S.
Comus
, started signalling to Commodore le Mesurier in
Calliope. Comus
was on the other side of
Calliope
, at the centre of the squadron's line, and the yeoman on
Penrith's
bridge could easily read the signal, as it was being sent by searchlight. He read aloud – ‘Gunfire and
gun flashes three points off my starboard bow.'

‘It's increasing,' Leach muttered to himself. They waited on the bridge, as the cruiser slid onward through the quiet sea, the mighty fleet behind still deployed in cruising disposition – for until the Commander-in-Chief learned the exact position and formation of the main German fleet, he could not deploy for battle.

‘From Commander-in-Chief, sir, relayed from
Calliope
. Alter course by divisions, to south … executive!'

The cruisers made the turn, sidling off to starboard for four minutes before the Commander-in-Chief signalled resumption of the previous course.

‘We're close now,' Leach said, ‘must be.'

The yeoman said, ‘From Commander-in-Chief, sir, relayed from
Calliope
… take up Disposition Number 1.'

Leach raised his binoculars and watched the destroyer flotillas, smoke belching from the funnels, lean into the sea and race out onto the exposed flanks of the battle fleet. The sound of gunfire increased, shaking the ships and shuddering in the sea so that it trembled though still, showing motion only in the smooth arcs of the bow waves and the churning foam of the wakes.

The yeoman said, ‘I can see the flagship clearly now, sir.' His telescope was to his eye, and he was propped in the port corner of the bridge, looking astern at the six rows of battleships,
Iron Duke
leading the third row from the left as he looked.

The yeoman said, ‘Equal Speed – CL, sir.'

‘Deploy south-east by east, preserving the speed of the Fleet,' de Saumarez said.

The yeoman said, ‘Commander-in-Chief … General deployment … executive!'

De Saumarez cried, ‘
Calliope
has signalled for full speed, sir … executive!'

Leach hung onto the forward bridge railing, his binoculars to his eyes. ‘Here they come!' he cried. The funnels and masts of Admiral Scheer's battle fleet appeared out of the sea, coming up from the south-south-west. Jellicoe's deployment would pass the whole British battle line across their front, crossing Scheer's T.

Tom Rowland, feeling the shudder of the ship as she lurched forward at full speed, ran up on deck to see what
was happening. From the port side, amidships, he stared out on the most exciting scene of his life, and in a lurid way, the most picturesque. He saw the sudden unveiling of a vision, long known, but never before seen – a fleet action at sea. While
Penrith
had been steaming with the main battle squadrons of the Grand Fleet, Beatty and the battle cruisers, starting from Rosyth, had fought battles of their own, to the south and a hundred miles and more ahead. No one in the Grand Fleet, from Jellicoe downward, knew of these engagements in the drifting fog and sun patches, until
Galatea's
signal of 2.20 p.m. In the nearly four hours since then the British battle cruisers had tangled with their German counterparts, and two had blown up, from turret flash-back caused by German shells –
Queen Mary
and
Indefatigable
. Cruisers had engaged each other, and finally Beatty had come in contact with Scheer and the German heavyweights. True to his orders, he had withdrawn northward, luring the Germans towards
his
heavyweights, Jellicoe and those twenty-four battleships … of whose presence no German was yet aware. Now, all this, hidden by time and distance, suddenly became clear before Tom's eyes and the battle was made whole.

Shells were bursting by hundreds in the sea off the bow of H.M.S.
Marlborough
, the battleship at the rear end of the deployment. A British cruiser, limping into shelter from an engagement with the German battle cruisers, blew up; a British battleship –
Warspite
– her steering gear damaged by a shell, was turning in massive circles, out of control, the target of three German battleships. Over all drifted the smoke of battle, the bellow of the great guns – now hiding, now loud, now displaying, now hushed.

Tom made ready, reluctantly, to go below again. No one seemed to be actually firing at
Penrith
, but there were so many shells in the air that anything could happen.

At that moment an appalling explosion made him pause, a hollowness in the pit of his stomach. Dead ahead one of the battle cruisers racing across the Battle Fleet's front to take station had been hit. It was
Invincible
, Rear Admiral the Honourable Sir Horace Hood's flagship of the 3rd Battle Cruiser Squadron. She lurched out of the line to starboard, seemed to settle, and then, as Tom watched, blew up in explosion after explosion, each a blinding flash of yellow
and red. Soon, under a tall column of smoke,
Invincible
vanished. Tom hurried down to his post, and waited.

On the bridge Captain Leach cried, ‘The Germans have disappeared! They've just … gone!'

‘Turned round in the mist, probably, sir, a Blue turn – the battle-turn-away Intelligence has been telling us about,' de Saumarez said.

Leach said, ‘Well, if they
have
turned 16 points, they're heading south-west, so we're still between them and their bases.'

6.40 p.m., de Saumarez noted. The Commander-in-Chief, apparently as puzzled as his captains as to what had happened to the Germans, was altering course successively more to starboard, closing the last known position of the enemy. Sporadic firing still echoed and drummed in the air, but it was nothing like the universal thunder of the last few minutes when the two battle fleets had been in action against each other.

De Saumarez said, ‘The C-in-C doesn't seem to be afraid that they're drawing us over a submarine or mine trap.'

Leach shook his head, ‘We've made this contact by accident, that's obvious. Scheer hasn't had time to lay on a submarine trap, and mines aren't likely – too many ships have been ploughing the water here, with no reports.'

On the bridge, they waited, peering into the mists, listening to the rush of water along the steel flanks, watching the trails of black smoke from the other ships of the squadron spread out to port and starboard. Below, Tom waited. Where was the German battle fleet?

The wireless room messenger bounced up the ladder – ‘Intercept from
Southampton
to Senior Officer Battle Cruiser Force, sir. Urgent. Priority. Enemy battle fleet steering east-south-east. Enemy bears south-south-west, number unknown.'

7.04 p.m. and still broad daylight. Plenty of time to finish them off yet, Leach thought. But by God! – He pushed the message form under de Saumarez's nose – ‘Enemy battle fleet steering east-south-east … Half an hour ago they turned to south-west. Now they're heading for home, probably hoping to pass astern of us … Our squadron ought to be moving across to the starboard side.'

He raised his binoculars and peered, first into the south
west, then at
Calliope
. ‘The Commodore hasn't made any signal,' he muttered. He turned to the yeoman and snapped, ‘Make a signal! To Flag. Suggest enemy battle fleet close submit present manoeuvre should be at maximum speed.'

He waited, watching
Calliope's
flag bridge.

Two flags whipped up to the commodore's yardarm –
Penrith's
distinguishing letter; and Negative.