LONDON GAZETTE NAVAL DESPATCH
21st March 1917
ACTION OF H.M. SHIPS ULYSSES AND MANDEVILLE
NAVAL DESPATCH dated 31st OCTOBER 1915
From Commander-in-Chief, Grand Fleet, to Admiralty.
"Queen Elizabeth," 5th November, 1915.
Sir,
I have the honour to transmit, herewith, for the information of their Lordships, reports from the Commanding Officers of "Ulysses" and "Mandeville," on the action between those ships and an enemy raider on 31st October, 1915, in latitude '60° 54' N., longitude 2° 24' E., resulting in the sinking of the raider with all hands.
The raider appears to have had a heavy torpedo armament, and evidently hoped, by manoeuvring during chase and boarding, to torpedo both "Ulysses" and "Mandeville." This was prevented by the skillful handling of both ships. The Commanding Officer of "Mandeville" displayed excellent judgment in manoeuvring his ship in such a way that he was able to pour in a hot fire for five or six minutes at a range of 1,000 yards before the raider could bring a gun to bear.
After weighing the evidence, I am satisfied that no submarine was present. The object reported by "Ulysses" as a mine, and by "Mandeville" as a submarine, was probably a cask, possibly containing oil, leakage of which would have given the appearance of the wake noted by "Mandeville."
I very much regret the loss of Lieutenant William Turner, R.N.R., and his gallant boat's crew of volunteers, who undoubtedly perished with the raider. The boarding parties from the patrol squadrons have, throughout the war, displayed the greatest skill and fearlessness in carrying out their hazardous work in all weathers.
That the raider was intercepted and brought to action is the result of much patient work under trying conditions. Much credit is due to Rear-Admiral Terrance Elliott-Gore, M.V.O., for his conduct of the Second Cruiser Squadron patrol.
I submit, for the favourable notice of their Lordships, the ability and sound judgment displayed by Captain Jonathan Depp, R.N., of "Ulysses," and Commander Hector Rush, R.D., R.N.R., of "Mandeville," in rounding up and destroying the vessel which was capable of doing such damage to our commerce.
The Rear-Admiral Commanding, Second Cruiser Squadron, is being furnished with a copy of this letter, and will submit, in due course, a list of recommendations of other Officers and Men whose services he considers special noteworthy.
I am, Sir, Your obedient servant,
David Beatty, Admiral.
The Secretary of the Admiralty
~)o(~
30 October, 1915
17:32 hours
The North Sea off the coast of Norway
"You sent for me, Captain?" Lieutenant William Turner said upon entering the small bridge of the armed boarding steamer S.S. Mandeville.
"I did, Lieutenant," Commander Rush replied with a flash of a smile, though his eyes bore a grave look. He was a lean, hawk-faced man in his late fifties with greying hair and an air of restrained energy. His official rank was commander, but as senior officer in command of the ship, he was referred to as captain. "We've encountered something I can't quite identify. Might be a U-boat. More likely it isn't. Have a look."
Lieutenant Turner accepted the binoculars his captain offered and peered in the direction indicated. He panned back and forth a moment before spotting an odd green glow just under the surface of the sea about a mile off their bow. He stared at it for two full minutes before it faded, as if whatever it was sank too deep to see. Turner lowered the lenses from his eyes, frowning.
"Well?" Commander Rush asked when the younger man didn't speak. "I know you've an interest in old sea tales and the like. What do you make of it? A kraken, perhaps?"
Turner shook his head, not taking his eyes from the spot where the glow had been.
"I've never seen anything like it, sir," he said finally.
"Ulysses spotted it about an hour ago and signaled a course change," Rush told him. "It's been staying ahead of us. With ease, I might add."
That wouldn't have been too surprising if the contact had been a surface ship. On her best day in ideal conditions, Mandeville could do no more than fifteen knots. Ulysses, a massive Warrior class armoured cruiser, could do nearly twice that.
"I don't understand, sir," Turner said, looking at his captain. "If it is a U-boat, sir, we should be able to overtake her. They can hardly do ten knots submerged."
"You needn't lecture me on U-boats, Lieutenant," Rush gently reproved. "Ulysses steamed ahead and tried to get a better look, but whatever that is outpaced her and then disappeared as it did just now."
"Why didn't Ulysses fire on it, sir?" asked Turner.
"For all we know, Lieutenant, that could be a new vessel of His Majesty's navy," Rush replied wryly. "Wouldn't do to sink a secret weapon, would it?"
"I suppose not, sir," the younger man agreed.
"Good," said Rush and clapped his hands before rubbing them together vigorously. "It's the end of my watch, Mr. Turner. Take command of the chase, such as it is. Alert me if there are any developments."
"Of course, Captain," Turner said with a deferential bow of his head.
"Lieutenant," said the helmsman as soon as the captain was out of the wheelhouse.
"Yes, Lee?" Turner replied, putting the binoculars back to his eyes, scanning the sea for another look at the unknown thing.
"You know what that is out there, sir. Begging your pardon," Lee said.
"You just heard me tell the captain I've never seen anything like it," Turner hedged. "Probably it is nothing more than a large grouping of jellyfish or the like."
"Aye, sir," said Lee, glancing over his shoulder at the young officer. "If you say so, sir."
Turner eyed the sailor, frowning at the man's knowing tone. He reminded himself again of how superstitious these old salts could be. How many wild tales had his grandfather told him? Stories about his ancestor the old man had claimed were passed down from father to son since the eighteenth century. Still, Turner felt uneasy.
On into dusk the two ships continued to follow their course with the glowing object appearing intermittently. The strange occurrence had rumours and speculation running rampant through Mandeville's crew. Even the officers were affected, though Commander Rush and Lieutenant Turner said very little on the subject.
It was late in the evening when Lieutenant Turner, sitting in the small wardroom writing a letter to his young wife, was interrupted by a sailor rapping softly on the door jam. Turner looked up questioningly.
"Sorry to disturb you, sir," said the sailor in a shaky voice. "Mr. Wolpert asks that you come to the bridge, sir."
"Something wrong?" asked Turner, folding his incomplete letter and stuffing it in his breast pocket.
"It's back, Lieutenant," the sailor replied, looking more worried. "And there's more. I don't know how to describe it, sir."
"Let's go, then." Turner rose and strode past the sailor towards the ladder that led to the upper decks. He paused and looked back. The sailor still stood by the wardroom door as if too frightened to follow. "Come on, then, man."
"Aye, sir," said the sailor resignedly and followed the Lieutenant back up to the bridge.
Entering the wheelhouse they found Midshipman Wolpert, the helmsman and the signalman all staring out over the bow. Turner's eyes were drawn by the now familiar green glow. However, the thing was no longer below the surface. Turner's jaw dropped. Before the Mandeville sailed a full rigged ship. Three masts with all sails taut as if driven before a gale glowed a pail green.
"My God," Turner breathed, unable to believe his eyes.
Wolpert turned to him and nodded. His expression was stunned. His eyes wide in disbelief.
"Why did you not call the captain?" Turner asked.
"Something I thought you should see before I did," Wolpert told him and handed over the binoculars.
Reluctantly Turner took them and looked at the distant spectre. His gaze traveled over the whole frightful thing, settling finally on the quarterdeck. A tall man stood at the great wheel, piloting the ship on its steady course. At the stern rail stood another man. He too was tall, but he did not look to any duty. Rather, he stared at the Mandeville. Turner suddenly realised why Wolpert had called him.
"That's me!" Turner hissed through tight lips.
"Yes," Wolpert replied, his voice full of dread.
"But…" Turner couldn't bring himself to say more.
"Should I call the captain?" Wolpert prompted.
"Yes," said Turner, looking again at the distant vessel. "Call him. He must see this."
Commander Rush arrived a few minutes later, but he was too late. The ghostly vessel was no more than the green glow it had been when they had first spotted it.
"Something is up, gentlemen," Rush said after examining the glow through the binoculars. "Out with it."
Wolpert looked to Turner and the lieutenant gave him a nod. The young midshipman haltingly described what they had seen. By the end of his tale he could hardly speak above a whisper.
"Turner, come with me." Commander Rush led the lieutenant down to the main deck and forward to the bow. It was late enough in the evening that there were no hands on deck to observe them. Producing a silver flask Rush offered it to Turner.
"Thank you, no, sir," the lieutenant said.
"Take it man," Rush urged him. "You aren't on duty. By God, if any man needs a drink right now, it's you. You and young Wolpert I should say."
"Yes, sir." He took the flask and swallowed a mouthful, letting the sharp burn of scotch linger a moment before handing the flask back. "What will we do now, sir?"
"Do?" Rush said bemused. He took a drink from his flask and put it away before turning to look out over the prow of his little ship. "I don't know there is anything to do, Turner. I'll have to make an entry in the log, but what I'll say I don't know. I'll want to have a word with Captain Depp."
"Sir?" Turner asked, not understanding.
"If I say two of my officers reported the Flying Dutchman crossed our bows and Captain Depp says it was a whale the Admiralty will have you and Wolpert in an institution as soon as you step ashore. And things would not be pleasant for me either." Rush took his hat off and rubbed his head. "How are you feeling, lad?"
"I don't know, sir," Turner replied.
"Well, go and sleep if you can," said the captain. "You'll be wanting it soon enough. Go on now. Not a word of this to the crew. I'll speak with the watch and do what I can to keep rumour from spreading. Go on, Lieutenant. That's an order."
Try as he might, Lieutenant William Turner could not sleep that night. He lay awake in his bunk remembering all of the tales his grandfather had told him. Remembering the face of the man that had stared back across the sea. How could this be? Were the old family legends true? And what did seeing himself on the Dutchman's quarterdeck mean if they were not true?
Forsaking any hope of sleep, Turner rolled from his bunk, donned his uniform and woolen coat and ventured out on deck. The sea was calm with a freshening breeze carrying the ever present bite of the oncoming North Sea winter. Turner took a small pipe from his pocket and lit it. Casting the match over the side he glanced down and nearly dropped his pipe in surprise. Several fathoms below was the green glow of the Dutchman sailing beneath the waves alongside the Mandeville.
After the initial shock, Turner steadied himself. If his grandfather had been telling the truth he really had nothing to fear from the spectre. But if his grandfather had been telling the truth, the crew of the Mandeville did. Somehow he must save them, but how?
When the glow faded once more, Turner tapped the dottle out of his pipe and went down to his cabin to lay restlessly until morning. He had just finished shaving, observing the dark rings under his haunted, red-rimmed eyes, when general quarters was sounded. It was the matter of a moment for him to throw on the rest of his uniform and get to the bridge.
"Lieutenant Turner, good," Commander Rush said as soon as the younger man came on the bridge. "Ulysses has spotted a ship. She's crossing north to south. We are in pursuit."
Turner flashed him a questioning look and the commander gave a very slight shake of his head.
"Captain," the signalman said, stepping onto the bridge. "Captain Depp orders best speed, sir. The vessel is making for a fog bank."
"Very well," Rush said, his casual attitude vanishing in the instant. "Helmsman, match course with Ulysses. Lieutenant, bring us up to fifteen knots. All hands to action stations. Assemble your boarding party, Lieutenant Turner."
"Aye, sir," Turner responded without hesitation. He went to the speaking tube and relayed the captain's instructions. Soon the screw's revolutions increased. The engine sent a thrum through the ship and the wake at the bow rose perceptibly.
"Permission to join the boarding party, Captain," the helmsman, Lee, requested.
"Denied," Rush replied with a shake of his head. "I need you here."
"There she is!" Turner barked when the vessel came in sight.
"Very good, Lieutenant," said Rush. "Best you get to your boat. Stand ready to go over the side on my order."
"Aye, sir!" Turner sprang for the door and was down the ladder in a flash. He made his way aft to the boat and his waiting volunteers. They had the twenty-four footer ready, loaded with their rifles and the tackling taught. It would take only a few minutes to get the little vessel over the side and on her way. With a top speed of sixteen knots it could overtake most freighters readily enough.
"We're ready, Lieutenant," Crook, a lean and gangly young seaman said, handing Turner his pistol belt.
"Excellent, gentlemen," said the lieutenant as he buckled the belt around his waist. He drew the Webley revolver and checked the cylinder to be sure it was loaded. "Well done. We'll see how long it takes to catch this one, eh?"
"Aye, sir," grinned Crook. He was a steady man, always reliable in a boarding. His quick eyes and alert nature made him a great asset in spite of his youth. The other four men in the party looked as keen for action as Crook. Long hours of patrol duty wore on a man's nerve and it was good to have a bit of action to break the monotony. Turner noticed, however, that there was something different to the looks they were giving him. He paid no heed to those and went about his business as always.
Time ground on as the two Royal Navy ships closed on the steamer ahead. Signals were flashed back and forth, but the steamer did not stop until Mandeville fired a warning shot from her three inch gun. Ulysses slowed and manoeuvred off to the west, allowing Mandeville to close under protection of her guns. Word came down to Turner and over the side he and his crew went.
"Keep her stead astern of the freighter," Turner ordered the steersman as the motor coughed to life and the boat began to gain headway in the choppy sea.
Mandeville manoeuvred to remain out of the arc of any shot Ulysses might make and keep well away from possible guns concealed aboard the steamer. It was a long ten minutes before the shooting started. Machineguns opened up on the boarding party and it was all the boat's crew could do to stay alive. Ulysses' big guns opened up followed by the lighter cannon aboard Mandeville.
"Turn us back!" ordered Turner, but looking to the stern he saw the steersman slumped over the gunwale. Another man was laying in the bottom of the boat and young Crook was clutching a wound in his side. Water was pouring in through a dozen bullet holes and his remaining men were reaching for their rifles.
Knowing it was likely useless, Turner leapt to the tiller and wrenched it around, intending to return to Mandeville. The boat was broadside on to the steamer when another fusillade of machinegun fire raked over them. The little boat began sinking, settling below the waves too rapidly for anything to be done. Turner scrambled to Crook and felt a hard blow on the side of his head. He saw stars for a moment and then all went black.
"He be wakin' up now, Cap'n," said a rough voice Lieutenant Turner did not recognise.
Turner blinked his eyes open, expecting to find he had been taken aboard Ulysses. The sky was black, dotted with stars and the moon low on the horizon. The ship around him was all wood with a faint green glow to it. His heart froze in his chest and he sat bolt upright.
"Easy there, son," said a tall, rangy man in old fashioned clothing. "Take 'er easy. No harm 'll come to ye."
"But I'm…" Turner began, but was cut off.
"Safe," said a more mellow voice. Turner looked up and found his doppelganger standing a pace away with a smile on his face.
"I'm…" Turner breathed, confused. Then with a note of dread he asked, "Why am I here?"
"You're a Turner," replied his doppelganger. "We have to look out for each other."
"We?" Turner asked, bewildered.
"I'm Captain William Turner and this is my father, Bill," said the man.
"Bootstrap Bill?" Turner asked in awe.
"The same," replied the captain.
"And this is the Flying Dutchman," said Turner and glanced about.
The deck of the ship was crowded with men, most of whom were in German Navy uniforms. They looked as bemused as he felt. Five who stood nearby were his boat's crew. They grinned at him and came closer.
"You took a bad one to your head, sir," Crook said.
"And you were shot," Turner replied. "But you're on your feet."
"Aye, sir," Crook acknowledged. "I feel fine, now, sir."
"We're all alright, sir," said the steersman. "Right as rain."
"I wish you could stay longer, lad," said Captain Turner.
"Where am I going?" Turner asked, still trying to get his mind around the situation.
"Back to your boat," Bootstrap Bill told him. "We've patched the holes. It'll stay afloat."
"But I'm dead," Turner said, more confused now than ever. "This is the Dutchman. My grandfather told me about it. You take those who die at sea to the afterlife."
"We do," Captain Turner said with a smile. "I bent the rules this time. You're going home. Marry that girl of yours. Live a long life and tell your children the stories your grandfather told you."
"But…" Turner began to protest. He spun in confusion as his men grabbed him and moved towards the rail. Two climbed down the old fashioned ladder and helped him into the boat.
"I'll be keeping an eye on you, lad," said Captain Turner from the rail and waved.
Turner waved back. He felt as if he were in a dream, though no dream had ever seemed so real. It wasn't until the lines were cast off that he realised his other men had not joined them.
"Why are Crook and the other two not coming with us?" he demanded of his sailors.
"They can't, sir," said the man at the tiller in a subdued voice.
Turner glanced up at the Dutchman's rail. Crook looked sad for an instant, but he smiled and wave farewell. The other men did too and then the fog closed in around them. The night lingered and when dawn came the sky was clear, the air was fresh and there was no sign of any ship.
~)0(~
From Commander Hector Rush, R.D., R.N.R., S.S. Mandeville, to Admiral David Beatty
Sir,
I have the honour and pleasure to transmit the good news that upon 2 November, 1915 a ship's boat was sighted during our patrol of the sea lanes. I ordered our course adjusted and to our great relief the survivors of Lt. Turner's boarding party, thought lost during the action of 31 October, 1915, were recovered. Lt. Turner and two able seamen, showing signs of their ordeal, are now alive and safe aboard Mandeville. Further details will be submitted when the ship's doctor releases Lt. Turner for duty.
I am, Sir, Your obedient servant,
Hector Rush, Commander.
Author's Note: This story was inspired by a real event during the First World War. The action took place off the coast of Norway between the HMS Achilles, the S.S. Dundee and the German raider Leopard. The supernatural details I have inserted are, of course, completely fictitious. Thanks for reading.