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 Visual Basic®
For Kids

15th Edition

By
Philip Conrod and Lou Tylee

©2017 Kidware Software LLC

PO Box 701
Maple Valley, WA 98038

http://www.computerscienceforkids.com
http://www.kidwaresoftware.com
Copyright © 2017 by Kidware Software LLC. All rights reserved

Kidware Software LLC

PO Box 701
Maple Valley, Washington 98038
1.425.413.1185
www.kidwaresoftware.com
www.computerscienceforkids.com

All Rights Reserved. No part of the contents of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means without the written permission of the publisher.

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN-13: 978-1-937161-61-3 (electronic edition)

ISBN-13: 978-1-937161-58-3 (printed edition)

Previous edition published as “Visual Basic Express For Kids – 12th Edition”

Cover Design by Stephanie Conrod

Copy Edit by Jessica Conrod
Book Cover Illustration by Kevin Brockschmidt

This copy of “Visual Basic For Kids” and the associated software is licensed to a single user.
Copies of the course are not to be distributed or provided to any other user. Multiple copy
licenses are available for educational institutions. Please contact Kidware Software for
school site license information.

This guide was developed for the course, “Visual Basic For Kids,” produced by Kidware
Software, Maple Valley, Washington. It is not intended to be a complete reference to the
Visual Basic language. Please consult the Microsoft website for detailed reference
information.
This guide refers to several software and hardware products by their trade names. These
references are for informational purposes only and all trademarks are the property of their
respective companies and owners. Microsoft, Visual Studio, Small Basic, Visual Basic, Visual
J#, and Visual C#, IntelliSense, Word, Excel, MSDN, and Windows are all trademark
products of the Microsoft Corporation. Oracle, NetBeans and Java are trademark products of
the Oracle Corporation. JCreator is a trademark product of XINOX Software

The example companies, organizations, products, domain names, e-mail addresses, logos,
people, places, and events depicted are fictitious. No association with any real company,
organization, product, domain name, e-mail address, logo, person, place, or event is
intended or should be inferred.

This book expresses the author’s views and opinions. The information in this book is
distributed on an "as is" basis, without and expresses, statutory, or implied warranties.

Neither the author(s) nor Kidware Software LLC shall have any liability to any person or
entity with respect to any loss nor damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or
indirectly by the information contained in this book.
Reviews for Previous Editions
"I find your course VISUAL BASIC FOR KIDS more helpful than any of the books (including
that Dummies book) I have read so far. " - TF, Mounds, Oklahoma.

"Your course VISUAL BASIC FOR KIDS is the nicest I've found on the internet - it's content,
look and organization are excellent for my 13 year old son." - CG, Brussels, Belgium.

"I just wanted to tell you that I purchased VISUAL BASIC FOR KIDS and have been very
pleased with it. It is for my son who is 10 and has been wanting to learn programming." -
BH, Cincinnati, Ohio.

"My 14 year old just loves this VISUAL BASIC FOR KIDS! I'm glad there's finally a product
out there for the programmers of the future." - RU, Fresno, California.

"I am very impressed with the layout of your course VISUAL BASIC FOR KIDS - it is quite
well structured." - AM, Tasmania, Australia.

"I use VISUAL BASIC FOR KIDS with my students. I think it's great! " - PE, Bangkok,
Thailand.

"What a great course VISUAL BASIC FOR KIDS! This is a wonderful product at a great price.
" - SP, Martinsville, Virginia.

"My kids really enjoy your course and are programming a lot. VISUAL BASIC FOR KIDS is
perfect for my kids' level. " - RF, The Netherlands.

"Your VISUAL BASIC FOR KIDS course is very well put together and I have learned a lot. " -
BN, Greenfield, Massachusetts.

"My son is keen to program but all those other manuals have involved poor Mom trying to
translate language that is supposed to be English. Thank you for writing something VISUAL
BASIC FOR KIDS he can understand! " - AG, United Kingdom.

"I enjoy your tutorial VISUAL BASIC FOR KIDS and am learning along with my kids. " - JM,
Palmdale, California.

"It's nice to see a product like this VISUAL BASIC FOR KIDS for beginning programmers! " -
DK, San Francisco, California.

"I'm no kid, but I enjoy the product VISUAL BASIC FOR KIDS! " - BS, El Cajon, California.

"Just wanted to compliment you on an excellent training tool VISUAL BASIC FOR KIDS for
this 43 year old 'kid'. " - MD, Edgewater, Maryland.
About The Authors
Philip Conrod has authored, co-authored and edited numerous
computer programming books for kids, teens and adults. Philip holds
a BS in Computer Information Systems and a Master's certificate in
the Essentials of Business Development from Regis University. He
also holds a Certificate in Programming for Business from Warren-
Tech. Philip has been programming computers since 1977. He has
held various Information Technology leadership roles in companies
like Command Plus, BibleBytes Software, Sundstrand Aerospace,
Safeco Insurance Companies, FamilyLife, Kenworth Truck Company,
PACCAR and Darigold. In his spare time, Philip serves as the
President & Publisher of Kidware Software, LLC. He is the proud
father of three “techie” daughters and he and his beautiful family
live in Maple Valley, Washington.

Lou Tylee holds BS and MS degrees in Mechanical Engineering and

a PhD in Electrical Engineering. Lou has been programming
computers since 1969 when he took his first Fortran course in
college. He has written software to control suspensions for high
speed ground vehicles, monitor nuclear power plants, lower noise
levels in commercial jetliners, compute takeoff speeds for jetliners,
locate and identify air and ground traffic and to let kids count
bunnies, learn how to spell and do math problems. He has written
several online texts teaching Visual Basic, Visual C# and Java to
thousands of people. He taught a beginning Visual Basic course for
over 15 years at a major university. Currently, Lou works as an
engineer at a major Seattle aerospace firm. He is the proud father of
five children and proud husband of his special wife. Lou and his
family live in Seattle, Washington.
Acknowledgements
I want to thank my three wonderful daughters - Stephanie, Jessica and Chloe, who helped
with various aspects of the book publishing process including software testing, book editing,
creative design and many other more tedious tasks like finding errors and typos. I could not
have accomplished this without all your hard work, love and support. I want to also thank
my best friend Jesus, who has always been there by my side giving me wisdom and
guidance. Without you, this book would have never been printed or published.

I also want to thank my multi-talented co-author, Lou Tylee, for doing all the real hard work
necessary to develop, test, debug, and keep current all the ‘beginner-friendly’ applications,
games and base tutorial text found in this book. Lou has tirelessly poured his heart and soul
into so many previous versions of this tutorial and there are so many beginners who have
benefited from his work over the years. Lou is by far one of the best application developers
and tutorial writers I have ever worked with. Thank you Lou for collaborating with me on
this book project.
 Table of Contents
Course Description
Course Prerequisites
A Brief Word on the Course
Installing and Using the Downloadable Solution Files
Using Visual Basic For Kids
How To Take the Course
Forward by Alan Payne, A Computer Science Teacher

1. Introducing Visual Basic

A Story About Bill and Paul
Let’s Get Started
Starting Visual Basic
Opening a Visual Basic Project
Running a Visual Basic Project
Stopping a Visual Basic Project
Stopping Visual Basic
Summary

2. The Visual Basic Design Environment

Review and Preview
Parts of a Visual Basic Project
Parts of the Visual Basic Environment
Starting a New Visual Basic Project
Main Window
Solution Explorer Window
Design Window
Toolbox Window
Properties Window
Moving Around in Visual Basic
Solution Explorer Window
 Properties Window
Code Window
Summary

3. Your First Visual Basic Project

Review and Preview
Steps in Building a Visual Basic Project
Placing Controls on the Form
Example
Setting Control Properties (Design Mode)
Naming Controls
Setting Properties in Run Mode
How Control Names are Used in Event Procedures
Writing Event Procedures
Example
Summary

4. Project Design, Forms, Buttons

Review and Preview
Project Design
Saving a Visual Basic Project
On-Line Help
The Form Control
Properties
Example
Events
Typical Use of Form Control
Button Control
Properties
Example
Events
Typical Use of Button Control
BASIC - The First Lesson
Event Procedure Structure
 Assignment Statement
Property Types
Comments
Project - Form Fun
Project Design
Place Controls on Form
Set Control Properties
Write Event Procedures
Run the Project
Other Things to Try
Summary

5. Labels, Text Boxes, Variables

Review and Preview
Debugging a Visual Basic Project
Syntax Errors
Run-Time Errors
Logic Errors
Label Control
Properties
Example
Events
Typical Use of Label Control
Text Box Control
Properties
Example
Events
Typical Use of Text Box Control
BASIC - The Second Lesson
Variables
Variable Names
Variable Types
Declaring Variables
Arithmetic Operators
Val and Str Functions
 String Concatenation
Project - Savings Account
Project Design
Place Controls on Form
Set Control Properties
Write Event Procedures
Run the Project
Other Things to Try
Summary

6. UpDown Control, Decisions, Random

Numbers
Review and Preview
Numeric UpDown Control
Properties
Example
Events
Typical Use of Numeric UpDown Control
BASIC - The Third Lesson
Logical Expressions
Comparison Operators
Logical Operators
Decisions - The If Statement
Random Number Generator
Project - Guess the Number Game
Project Design
Place Controls on Form
Set Control Properties
Write Event Procedures
Run the Project
Other Things to Try
Summary
7. Icons, Group Boxes, Check Boxes, Radio
Buttons
Review and Preview
Icons
Custom Icons
Assigning Icons to Forms
Group Box Control
Properties
Placing Controls in a Group Box
Example
Typical Use of Group Box Control
Check Box Control
Properties
Example
Events
Typical Use of Check Box Control
Radio Button Control
Properties
Example
Events
Typical Use of Radio Button Control
BASIC - The Fourth Lesson
Decisions - Select Case
Project - Sandwich Maker
Project Design
Place Controls on Form
Set Control Properties
Write Event Procedures
Run the Project
Other Things to Try
Summary

8. Panels, Mouse Events, Colors

 Review and Preview
Panel Control
Properties
Typical Use of Panel Control
Graphics Using the Panel Control
Graphics Methods
Graphics Objects
Colors
Example
Pen Objects
Graphics Coordinates
DrawLine Method
Graphics Review
Example
BASIC - The Fifth Lesson
Mouse Events
MouseDown Event
Example
MouseUp Event
Example
MouseMove Event
Example
Project - Blackboard Fun
Project Design
Place Controls on Form
Set Control Properties
Write Event Procedures
Run the Project
Other Things to Try
Summary

9. Picture Boxes, Arrays

Review and Preview
Picture Box Control
Properties
 Image Property
Example
SizeMode Property
Example
Events
Typical Use of Picture Box Control
BASIC - The Sixth Lesson
Variable Arrays
For/Next Loops
Procedure Level Variables
Shuffle Routine
Project - Card Wars
Project Design
Place Controls on Form
Set Control Properties
Write Event Procedures
Run the Project
Other Things to Try
Summary

10. Timers, Animation, Keyboard Events

Review and Preview
Timer Control
Properties
Events
Examples
Typical Use of Timer Control
BASIC - The Final Lesson
Animation - The DrawImage Method
Image Disappearance
Border Crossing
Image Erasure
Collision Detection
Keyboard Events
KeyDown Event
 KeyPress Event
Project – Beach Balls
Project Design
Place Controls on Form
Set Control Properties
Write Event Procedures
Run the Project
Other Things to Try
Summary

Bonus Projects
Preview
Project 1 – Stopwatch
Project Design
Place Controls on Form
Set Control Properties
Write Event Procedures
Run the Project
Other Things to Try
Project 2 - Tic-Tac-Toe
Project Design
Place Controls on Form
Set Control Properties
Write Event Procedures
Run the Project
Other Things to Try
Project 3 - Dice Rolling
Project Design
Place Controls on Form
Set Control Properties
Write Event Procedures
Run the Project
Other Things to Try
Project 4 - State Capitals
Project Design
 Place Controls on Form
Set Control Properties
Write Event Procedures
Run the Project
Other Things to Try
Project 5 - Memory Game
Project Design
Place Controls on Form
Set Control Properties
Write Event Procedures
Run the Project
Other Things to Try
Bonus Project – Pong!

More Self-Study or Instructor-Led

Computer Programming Tutorials by
Kidware Software
Course Description:
Visual Basic for Kids is an interactive, self-paced tutorial providing
a complete introduction to the Visual Basic programming language
and environment. The tutorial consists of 10 lessons explaining (in
simple, easy-to-follow terms) how to build a Visual Basic application.
Numerous examples are used to demonstrate every step in the
building process. The tutorial also includes detailed computer
projects for kids to build and try. Visual Basic for Kids is presented
using a combination of course notes (written in Microsoft Word
format) and many Visual Basic examples and projects.
Course Prerequisites:
To use Visual Basic for Kids, you should be comfortable working
within the Windows environment, knowing how to find files, move
windows, resize windows, etc. No programming experience is
needed. The course material should be understandable to kids aged
10 and up. You will also need the ability to view and print documents
saved in Acrobat PDF format.

Software Requirements:
Regarding software requirements, to use Visual Basic, you (and your
potential users) should be using Windows 10. And, of course, you
need to have the Visual Studio 2015 Community Edition product
installed on your computer. It is available for free download from
Microsoft. Follow this link for complete instructions for downloading
and installing Visual Basic on your computer:

https://www.visualstudio.com/products/free-developer-offers-vs
A Brief Word on the Course:
Though this course is entitled “Visual Basic for Kids,” it is not
necessarily written in a kid’s vocabulary. Computer programming has
a detailed vocabulary of its own and, since adults developed it, the
terminology tends to be very adult-like. In developing this course,
we discussed how to address this problem and decided we would
treat our kid readers like adults, since they are learning what is
essentially an adult topic. We did not want to ‘dumb-down’ the
course. You see this in some books. We, quite frankly, are offended
by books that refer to readers as dummies and idiots simply because
they are new to a particular topic. We didn’t want to do that here.
Throughout the course, we treat the kid reader as a mature person
learning a new skill. The vocabulary is not that difficult, but there
may be times the kid reader needs a little help. Hopefully, the
nearest adult can provide that help.
Installing and Using the Downloadable
Solution Files
If you purchased this directly from our website you received an
email with a special and individualized internet download link where
you could download the compressed Program Solution Files. If you
purchased this book through a 3rd Party Book Store like
Amazon.com, the solutions files for this tutorial are included in a
compressed ZIP file that is available for download directly from our
website at:

http://www.kidwaresoftware.com/vbkids2015-registration.html

Complete the online web form at the webpage above with your
name, shipping address, email address, the exact title of this book,
date of purchase, online or physical store name, and your order
confirmation number from that store. After we receive all this
information we will email you a download link for the Source Code
Solution Files associated with this book.

Warning: If you purchased this book “used” or “second hand” you

are not licensed or entitled to download the Program Solution Files.
However, you can purchase the Digital Download Version of this
book at a discounted price which allows you access to the digital
source code solutions files required for completing this tutorial.
Using Visual Basic for Kids:
The course notes and code for Visual Basic for Kids are included
in one or more ZIP files. Use your favorite ‘unzipping’ application to
write all files to your computer. The course is included in the folder
entitled VBKids. This folder contains two other folders: VBK Notes
and VBK Projects. The VBK Projects folder includes all the Visual
Basic projects developed during the course.
How To Take the Course:
Visual Basic for Kids is a self-paced course. The suggested
approach is to do one class a week for ten weeks. Each week’s class
should require about 3 to 6 hours of your time to grasp the concepts
completely. Prior to doing a particular week’s work, open the class
notes file for that week and print it out. Then, work through the
notes at your own pace. Try to do each example as they are
encountered in the notes. Work through the projects in Classes 3
through 10 (and the Bonus class). If you need any help, all
completed projects are included in the VBK Projects folder.
Foreword by Alan Payne, A Computer Science
Teacher

What is “Visual Basic For Kids” … and how it works.

The lessons “Visual Basic for Kids” are a highly organized and well-
indexed set of tutorials meant for children aged 10 and above. Visual
Basic is a programming environment which allows the user to drag
and drop buttons, text boxes, scroll bars, timers and dozens of other
visual “controls” to make programs which look like “Windows”
programs. They provide a graphical user interface (GUI) to the user.

The tutorials provide the benefit of completed age-appropriate

applications for children – fully documented projects from the
teachers’ or parents’ point of view. That is, while full solutions are
provided, the projects are presented in an easy-to-follow set of
lessons explaining the rational for the form layout, coding design and
conventions, and specific code related to the problem.

Child-learners may follow tutorials at their own pace. Every bit of the
lesson is remembered as it contributes to the final solution to a kid-
friendly application. The finished product is the reward, but the
student is fully engaged and enriched by the process. This kind of
learning is often the focus of teacher training. Every computer
science teacher knows what a great deal of preparation is required
for projects to work for kids. With these tutorials, the research
behind the projects is done by an author who understands the
classroom experience. That is extremely rare!

Graduated Lessons for Every Project … Lessons, examples,

problems and projects. Graduated learning. Increasing and
appropriate difficulty… Great results.
With these projects, there are lessons providing a comprehensive,
kid-friendly background on the programming topics to be covered.
Once understood, concepts are easily applicable to a variety of
applications. Then, specific examples are drawn out so that a young
learner can practice with the Visual Basic designer. Then specific
Visual Basic coding for the example is provided so that the user can
see all the parts of the project come together for the finished
product.
By presenting lessons in this graduated manner, students are fully
engaged and appropriately challenged to become independent
thinkers who can come up with their own project ideas and design
their own forms and do their own coding. Once the process is
learned, then student engagement is unlimited! I have seen literacy
and numeracy skills improve dramatically because students cannot
get enough of what is being presented.

Indeed, lessons encourage accelerated learning – in the sense that

they provide an enriched environment to learn computer science,
but they also encourage accelerating learning because students
cannot put the lessons away once they start! Computer science
provides this unique opportunity to challenge students, and it is a
great testament to the authors that they are successful in achieving
such levels of engagement with consistency.

My History with Kidware Software products.

I have used Kidware’s Programming Tutorials for over a decade to

keep up my own learning. By using these lessons, I am able to
spend time on things which will pay off in the classroom. I do not
waste valuable time ensconced in language reference libraries for
programming environments – help screens which can never be fully
remembered! These projects are examples of how student projects
should be as final products – thus, the pathway to learning is clear
and immediate in every project.
If I want to use or expand upon some of the projects for student
use, then I take advantage of site-license options. I have found it
very straight forward to emphasize the fundamental computer
science topics that form the basis of these projects when using them
in the classroom. I can list some computer science topics which
everyone will recognize, regardless of where they teach – topics
which are covered expertly by these tutorials:

• Data Types and Ranges

• Scope of Variables
• Naming Conventions
• Decision Making
• Looping
• Language Functions – String, Date, Numerical
• Arrays
• Writing Your own Methods (subroutines)
• Understanding the Visual Basic Environment (Solution Explorer,
Design, Toolbox and Properties Window)
• The unique design and coding features of dozens of Visual Basic
Controls

In many States or Provinces, the above-listed topics would not be

formally introduced in Middle School computer studies, but would
form the basis of most projects undertaken by students. With these
tutorials, you as the teacher or parent may choose where to put the
emphasis, to be sure to cover the curricular expectations of your
regional curriculum documents.

Any further Middle school computer programming topics derive

directly from those listed above. Nothing is forgotten. All can be
integrated with the lessons provided.

How teachers can use the product to encourage

Contextualized Learning
Having projects completed ahead of time can allow the teacher to
present the design aspect of the project FIRST, and then have
students do all of their learning in the context of what is required in
the finished product. This is a much faster learning curve than if
students designed all of their own projects from scratch.

Lessons concentrating on a unified outcome for all makes for much

more streamlined engagement for students (and that is what they
need, in Middle school, and in grades 9 and 10), as they complete
more projects within a short period of time and there is a context for
everything that is learned.
With the Visual Basic for Kids tutorials, sound advice regarding
generally accepted coding strategies (“build and test your code in
stages”, “learn input, output, formatting and data storage strategies
for different data types” etc..) encourage independent thought
processes among learners. After mastery, then it is much more likely
that students can create their own problems and solutions from
scratch. Students are ready to create their own summative projects
for your computer science course – or just for fun, and they may
think of projects for their other courses as well! And what could be
wrong with asking the students’ other teachers what they would like
to see as project extensions?

Meets State and Provincial Curriculum Expectations and

More
Different states and provinces have their own curriculum
requirements for computer science. With the Kidware Software
products, you have at your disposal a series of projects which will
allow you to pick and choose from among those which best suit your
curriculum needs. Students focus upon design stages and sound
problem-solving techniques from a computer-science, problem-
solving perspective. In doing so, they become independent problem-
solvers, and will exceed the curricular requirements of Middle
schools and Secondary schools everywhere.
Useable projects – Out of the box!
The specific projects covered in the Visual Basic for Kids tutorials are
suitable for students aged 10 and above. Specific kid-friendly
tutorials and projects are found in the Contents document, and
include:

Savings Account Calculator

Guess the Number Game
Sandwich Maker (making food menu selections from a GUI)
Blackboard Fun (a project where you learn to make drawings)
Card Wars
Beach Balls
And, from the bonus chapter, GUI versions of
Stop Watch
TicTacToe
Dice Rolling
Memory Game (Concentration)
Pong

As you can see, there is a high degree of care taken so that projects
are age-appropriate. You as a parent or teacher can begin teaching
the projects on the first day. It’s easy for the adult to have done
their own learning by starting with the solution files. Then, they will
see how all of the parts of the lesson fall into place. Even a novice
could make use of the accompanying lessons.

How to teach students to use the materials.

In a Middle school situation, parents or teachers might be tempted
to spend considerable amounts of time at the projector or computer
screen going over the tutorial – but the best strategy is to present
the finished product first! That way, provided that the adult has
covered the basic concepts listed in the table of contents, then
students will quickly grasp how to use the written lessons on their
own. Lessons will be engaging, and the pay-off for younger students
is that there is always a finished product which is fun to use!

Highly organized reference materials for student self-study!

Materials already condense what is available from MSDN (Microsoft
Developer’s Network) help files (which tend to be written for adults)
in a context and age-appropriate manner, so that young students
remember what they learn.
The time savings for parents, teachers and students is enormous as
they need not sift through pages and pages of on-line help to find
what they need.
How to mark the projects.

In a classroom environment, it is possible for teachers to mark

student progress by asking questions during the various problem
design and coding stages. In the early grades (grades 5 to 8)
teachers can make their own oral, pictorial review or written pop
quizzes easily from the reference material provided as a review
strategy from day to day. I have found the requirement of
completing projects (mastery) sufficient for gathering information
about student progress in later grades.

Lessons encourage your own programming extensions.

Once concepts are learned, it is difficult to NOT know what to do for
your own projects. This is true even at the Middle school level –
where applications can be made in as short as 10 minutes (a high-
low guessing game, or a temperature conversion program, for
example), or 1 or 2 periods in length – if one wished to expand upon
any of the projects using the “Other Things to Try” suggestions
provided at the end of each chapter.

Having used Kidware Software tutorials for the past decade, I have
explored many programming environments which are currently of
considerable interest to kids! I thank Kidware Software and its
authors for continuing to stand for what is right in the teaching
Another Random Scribd Document
with Unrelated Content
than the enemy concentrated every gun he could bring to bear upon the
crowded scaling ladders and the gangways.

Fountains of flame and sparks flew skywards, through which the forms
of men came stumbling, each living figure that reached our deck, it seemed
to me, the embodiment of a miracle. The planking flew about me as chips
fly from a woodman's axe. My cap was torn from my head, my monkey-
jacket was ripped and scorched, but there wasn't a scratch on my body that I
was conscious of.

I saw my First Lieutenant forward busy about the slip of the cable; I
saw the top above me shattered by a shell, and after a silence heard the
pom-pom there break out again undismayed. The upper deck was a reeking
shambles, with men pouring down into it from the Mole, exhausted, bloody,
and triumphant. Nearly every man carried a wounded mate slung across his
back, and most of them had a chunk of masonry or a fragment of shell
gripped in his fist to bring back as a "souvenir" of the night's work—as if
their memories or those of their children's children needed any such
reminder.

The Marines fell back at length, and the last to embark was Milsom, one
arm hanging limp and bloody. He laughed as he saw me.

"Thank God you're all right," he panted.

"Ditto," I shouted.

"The Devil looks after his own," he said, and then the business of
getting clear claimed all my attention.

We got out of range of their batteries, and the last fire on board
extinguished before we stopped to transfer our wounded to some of the
Destroyers, to be rushed back to the Base. A battered Motor Launch came
alongside and I recognised the number painted on her bows. It was
Armitage's boat. I went to the gangway and hailed her. A Volunteer Reserve
Sub. with a bandage round his smoke-begrimed face, standing by the wheel,
raised his arm.
 "Armitage?" I shouted. The boy shook his head and climbed inboard.
They were passing the wounded down to be transferred to one of the
Destroyers laying off.

"Where is he?" I asked. The youngster jerked his thumb towards the
launch's tiny cabin. "Aft," he said, in the dull tone of utter exhaustion of
body and emotions.

"Five times he was hit an' he wouldn't budge.... Kneeling in a pool of

blood for'ard givin' directions.... Got the last man from Determination
aboard and he said 'Finish,' and rolled over in a heap. Just that one word,
'Finish.'" The dead man's second in command stood with his face working.
"Oh, God!" he said; "he was a man, he was a man!"

We resumed our voyage with four Destroyers to screen us, and the dawn
broke chill and wan; a mist closed down upon us like a pall as the light
strengthened.

Jervis was below having a wounded eye dressed and I was alone, but for
the Quartermaster, on the wreckage of the bridge; but presently I saw
Milsom, with a bandaged arm in splints and a cigar stuck truculently in the
corner of his mouth, climbing stiffly up the ladder.

"Jakes is all right," he said, as he joined me beside the rail.

"Yes," I said. "Hasn't got a scratch. Only got a sniff of gas—but he'll
shake that off in a few hours. The Destroyers say that those Motor Launches
saved all the officers and most of the men from the blockships. How's the
arm?"

"Bit stiff. Broken in two places." Milsom leaned against the rail and
took a deep breath. "But I'm still alive." He repeated the sentence and stared
at the dim outline of one of our escort just visible through the mist. His tone
was like that of a man awakening from sleep. "Oh, damn it!" he said. "No,
no," ... and then he turned abruptly and faced me. "Look here, Bill," he said,
"I was going to play the rottenest trick a man ever was tempted to stoop to."
He was talking as if he was in a desperate hurry, the words coming in a
rush. "This is a funny time to tell a love story, in all conscience, but I—I—
d'you remember that girl, Miss Mayne? I've never looked at a woman in my
life till I saw her. She wasn't in love with me, but I made her say she'd
marry me....

"Oh, I understand her, Bill, as no other man alive could.... I tell you, I
could read every thought that was in her head—and knowing that, I was
going to take her. I told myself I had every right to if I could, and she was
mine—just made for me, body and mind and soul. I'm telling you this now
—you've never heard me talk like this before, Bill, and God knows you
never will again.... Don't stare like that, old thing. I'm not light-headed—I'm
telling you all this, because I—I know who the other man is. You've got to
help him find her again and patch up their silly squabble and make her
happy—happier than ever I could. And I understood her better five minutes
after I'd first set eyes on her than he will with her lying in his arms——"

Somewhere at the back of my brain I heard a far-off drone like the

sound of a distant beehive.

"Well," I said. "What's his name?"

Milsom stood staring past me into the mist that lowered over us.

"I'll tell you," he said, "because I——"

The events of the next few seconds will always remain a blur in my
memory; the bark of a high-angle gun from one of the Destroyers astern cut
short his words. The drone above us seemed suddenly to become a rushing
roar of sound, and a blast of machine-gun fire swept the deck and bridge as
a flight of seaplanes whizzed overhead flying low, so that I could see the
goggled faces of the pilots behind the spurts of flame from their guns. The
next instant they were gone again in the mist. It was the last sting from the
hornets' nest we had been burning out, and Milsom was at my feet leaning
on his one arm and staring stupidly at the thin dark stream trickling across
the planking. The Destroyers on our beam were firing fruitlessly into the
mist.

I bent and put my arms about him and he turned his face towards me.
Twice he tried to speak, and an attempt at a smile, a ghost of the old jaunty
smile, flitted across his grey face. He made one more supreme effort, and
with my ear to the bloody lips I just caught the last whispered breath that
took his soul with it.

13

We passed up harbour to our berth alongside the following afternoon,

and every craft in harbour manned ship and gave us a cheer while the tugs
and ferry craft hooted, and the folk ashore lined the beach and waved flags
and handkerchiefs. I am not ashamed to own that I saw it all through a blur;
and as the off-shore wind carried the thin sound of women's voices, I
couldn't help thinking of the lads below the shattered upper deck, who had
fallen asleep that England on the morrow might wake to a fuller realisation
of her glory.

We dined together that night in the coffee room of the big hotel that had
been converted into the Naval Headquarters of the Base. We had counted on
having a tremendous jamboree—those of us who returned. But somehow
the feeling that predominated was a sort of dazed astonishment that we
were still alive. And our heads ached "fit to split" as housemaids say.

Mouldy was in bed, recovering from a slight gassing, but Thorogood sat
next to me, squeezing my arm at intervals as if to reassure himself that he
wasn't dreaming; and on the other a big subaltern of Marines who seemed to
regard his recent experiences with less emotion that the last Army v. Navy
rugger match, in which I saw him play. Glegg was there with a bandage
over one eye, but Brakespear was in hospital with a piece of shrapnel
somewhere in his anatomy.

Jervis had shorn his beard, and in the process seemed to have parted
with something of his effervescent vivacity, and when I remembered him as
I had last seen him, as we shoved off from the blazing Mole, stumbling
amid the dead and bawling through his megaphone.... No, we weren't
feeling gay.
 It was after dinner that we got really talking. There must have been a
dozen of us altogether, because Shorty had gone home to his wife, and
Selby had gone Home too: a longer journey, but perhaps an even happier
meeting at the end of it.... Anyhow, there were about a dozen of us that lit
cigars and cigarettes and put our elbows on the table, and the scene, as I
remember it, was just like some big family happily reunited, with the
shadow of the Angel's wing still hovering over all.

Messengers were coming and going all the while with signals and
telegrams, and presently the orderly murmured, "The Director of
Offensives, sir, wants to talk to you on the telephone."

I went up to the room I used as an office when ashore, and as I picked

up the receiver of the Admiralty line, heard the Director's voice faintly,
speaking not to me but to someone in his room.

"Tell them I'll be at the War Office at 3 P.M. for that meeting ... that's all
for to-night, Miss Mayne," I heard him say. Then clearer and louder, "Hallo,
that you, Hornby?"

"Yes, sir," I said.

"Well, I'm damned glad to hear it." Then he said a lot of nice things
about what we'd done and being proud of us, and finished off: "Well, I'd
like to see you at 3.30 P.M. to-morrow if you can get to town by then."

"Aye, aye, sir," and as I answered a thought flashed through my brain: it

was one of those brilliant inspirations that come once in a lifetime, and in
the course of a sleepless night (none of us slept that night) I perfected it into
a piece of strategy for which I claim, in all modesty, a place in this already
unduly prolonged narrative.

Mouldy occupied a spare room at my diggings where most of us were

billeted for the night, and when I turned out the following morning, I visited
him. I found him drinking tea and reading the morning, paper.

"How d'you feel?" I asked.

 He pointed to a tin of cigarettes with a wry face.

"Dead off baccy," he said lugubriously.

"Well," I replied, "that'll do you no harm. All right otherwise?"

He nodded. "All right last night. Lord knows why I should have been
rammed into bed while all you pirates lapped up bubbly and made a night
of it."

"Doctor's orders. Anyhow, he says you can go to town to-day."

Mouldy sat up. "Damn good of him, 'cos I was goin', anyhow. I'm going
to have a hell of a jamboree." He blinked at me defiantly from under a lank
lock of black hair.

"You've got to come with me to the Admiralty at three o'clock," I said as

sternly as I could. Mouldy groaned.

"Have I got to keep sober till three—an' pubs closing at half-past two?"

"Yes," I said. "You won't have a drink till the evening—and then you
can have as many as you want."

He acquiesced reluctantly, and we caught a train to town that landed us

at the terminus shortly before three; thence we taxied to Whitehall.

"This place gives me the holy pip," said Mouldy, as we threaded our
way through the stuffy-smelling corridors of the Admiralty. "Looks as if the
Navy was run by women from what I can see of the place. Phew! Shockin'
frowst!" We reached the Director's room.

"Never mind that," I said, and opened the door. I breathed a sigh of
relief to find the room was empty, and glanced at my watch. It was ten
minutes past three. Well, if Mouldy couldn't fix things in twenty minutes....
He walked to the open window and stood staring out on the Horse Guards
Parade.
 "Humph!" he observed moodily. "I reckon the bounding blue's good
enough for me.... I wouldn't come and work here for a thousand a year.
What the blazes does the Director want to see me for, anyway? He's all
adrift too."

I was hunting about on the paper-strewn desk for the bell press I knew
was there if I could find it. There were three: one marked "Secretary,"
another "Messenger," and a third "Stenographer." I took a long breath and
pressed the third.

"Mouldy," I said, "don't get into mischief. Wait here till I come back. I
shan't be a minute." Then I made tracks for the door.

In the semi-gloom of the passage outside a tall girl brushed past me and
entered the room, pencil and notebook in hand. It was Miss Mayne, and I
waited till the door closed before I looked at my watch. "I'll give them two
minutes," I thought. "And if she doesn't come back——"

I gave them ten minutes, as a matter of fact, then I knocked at the door
and went in.

"Mouldy," I said, "you needn't wait. It's all right. I mean, the Director
doesn't want to see you after all."

They had not apparently heard my knock, because Miss Mayne's head
was resting on Mouldy's shoulder, and he was stroking her hair with his
damaged hand. She was crying softly, with her cheek against his coat.

Mouldy raised his head and glared at me over Miss Mayne's shoulder.
She neither moved nor turned her head.

"Here," he said, "you 'op it!"

I went out into the corridor, closing the door softly behind me.

Then for the Erst time since we landed I felt tired—more tired than I
had ever felt in my life before.
 AUTHOR'S NOTE

For purposes of fiction, only the broad outlines of a great achievement

have been sketched into this story; and no attempt has been made to
reproduce faithfully the strategy or events of St. George's Day, 1918.
Indeed, only such ships find their replicas here as the turning-circle of the
tale allows, and if the Author has anywhere endeavoured to be true to facts,
it is in the portrayal of those fearsome and bloody conditions under which
the Navy added so fair a page to History.
 II

BEHIND THE VEIL:

THE STORY OF THE Q BOATS

(1918)

FIRST BLOOD

There was a day, now happily past, when the submarine scourge was
broadcast upon the seas; then the country turned for its salvation to the
Navy, upon which, under the good providence of God, it had grown
accustomed to rely in most of the crises of its history. Scientific and
mechanical appliances, on a scale adequate to meet and checkmate the
outrage of unrestricted submarine warfare, could not be produced by
pressing a button. With workshops and laboratories yielding their output at
highest pressure, the German submarine building yards were gaining in the
race. Every day brought its sickening tale of sinking and burning and
murder on the high seas, and in Whitehall offices men studied statistics and
columns of figures with faces ever growing graver.

The irritable tension of those days is best forgotten now. Prices rose,
ships sank, and the Navy said not a word. It was "doing its damnedest" in
silence, according to its wont. And not even in forecastle or Wardroom did
men so much as whisper what was afoot. To-day* the submarine remains
merely as a stern corrective, curbing waste and extravagance, bracing the
nation's nerve. The ingenuity of man is boundless, and science has not yet
said her last word; human courage and devoted valour alone seem to have
reached a point there is no transcending. It was these two factors which
stemmed the flood at the moment of supreme crisis; on these the veil is at
last lifted, and the tale now told in all simplicity and truth.

* Written in August, 1918.

The methods of the German submarine in its war against unarmed

shipping gradually settled down to a routine which varied but little in the
early phases of the conflict. It was the custom to attempt to torpedo at sight,
on the principle of the least said the soonest mended. If the torpedo missed,
as was not infrequently the case, the submarine broke surface a mile or so
away from the ship and fired a shot across her bows. The merchantman had
then two alternatives: to take to his heels and try to escape, or to heave to
and abandon ship. In the latter case the submarine closed the derelict to
within a few hundred yards and summoned the boats alongside. At the
muzzle of a revolver the Captain was ordered into the submarine with his
papers, and the crew of his boat directed to row a party of German sailors,
bearing bombs, back to the ship. These worthies, having placed the bombs
in the ship's vitals and looted the officers' quarters, returned to the
submarine, propelled by the men they had robbed and whose ship they were
engaged in sinking. In due course the bombs exploded and the ship
disappeared. It was an economical method, since bombs cost less than
torpedoes, and the formality of looting the ship helped to preserve its
popularity.

For a while the Navy noted these methods and the little human failings
of the enemy in silence. Then it drew a deep breath and made its plans
accordingly. It argued that a man-of-war could be disguised as a tramp
steamer and carry concealed armament. Such a vessel, by plying on the
trade routes, must inevitably meet a submarine in time, and in her character
of peaceful merchantman be ordered to abandon ship. The ship might be
abandoned to all outward appearances, but still retain sufficient men
concealed on board to fight the hidden guns when the moment came for her
to cast disguise to the winds and hoist the White Ensign. Certain risks had
to be taken for granted, of course; the almost inevitable torpedo sooner or
later, the probability of a little indiscriminate shelling while the submarine
approached, the possibility of being ultimately sunk before assistance could
arrive. Yet the odds were on the submarine being sunk first, and the rest was
on the knees of the gods.

An old collier of some 2,000 tons was selected from among the shipping
at the disposal of the Admiralty and taken to a Dockyard port, where she
unostentatiously underwent certain structural alterations. These included
disappearing mountings for guns concealed beneath hatchway covers, and
masked by deck-houses which collapsed like cards at a jerk of a lever. From
the host of volunteers, among whom were retired Admirals, Captains,
Commanders, and Lieutenants of the Royal Navy, a young Lieutenant-
Commander was selected and appointed in command. His officers were
volunteers from the Royal Naval Reserve, ex-merchant seamen, familiar
enough with the rôle they were required to play, and in some cases with
little mental scores of their own which required adjustment when the time
came. The crew was mostly from the West Country, men of Devon with one
or two traditions to uphold in the matter of brave adventure. It also included
Welshmen and Irish with a pretty taste for a fight, and a few Scots, of the
dour type, hard to frighten. They were picked from the Royal Navy, Fleet
and Royal Reserves—merchant seamen and fishermen the last, many of
whom had formed a nodding acquaintance with Death long before they
received this invitation to a closer intimacy. Their ages ranged between 17
and 52.

They sailed from Queenstown under the Red Ensign; but before they
left some of the crew trudged, as pilgrims to a shrine, and stood awhile
among the mounds in that pathetic God's acre where the women and
children of the Lusitania rest. They were then but freshly turned, those
mounds, in their eloquent diversity of lengths, and men had not begun to
forget....

For five weary months they endured the winter gales of the Atlantic,
wallowing to and fro along the trade routes, outwardly a scallywag tramp,
but behind her untidy bulwarks observing, with certain necessary
modifications, the discipline and customs of his Majesty's Navy. With paint-
pot and sail-cloth they improved the ship's disguise from time to time, and
wiled away the heart-breaking monotony of the days by inventing fresh
devices to conceal their character.

The ship's steward's assistant, when not engaged upon his office as
"dusty boy," was ordered to don female attire over his uniform and recline
in a prominent position on the poop in a deck-chair. This allurement was
calculated to prove an irresistible bait. The Navigator, whose action station
was the abandonment of the ship in the rôle of distracted Master, fashioned
the effigy of a stuffed parrot and fastened it inside a cage which he
proposed to take away with him in the boat, thus heightening the pathos of
the scene and whetting the blood-lust of the enemy....

From time to time watchful patrols swooped down upon them,

exchanged a few curt signals in the commercial code, and bade them pass
on their imaginary occasions. Once a Cruiser, less easily satisfied than the
remainder, bade the rusty-sided collier heave to, and sent an officer to board
her; he climbed inboard at the head of armed men to find himself
confronted, in the person of the "Master," with a term-mate of Britannia
days and a grin he is not likely to forget. Then, early one spring morning,
when the daylight was stealing out of grey skies across the Atlantic waste,
the track of a torpedo bubbled across the bows and passed ahead of the ship.
The moment for which they had waited five weary months had come.

In accordance with her rôle of tramp steamer in the early days of the
War, the ship held steadily on her way, observing the stars in their courses,
but not otherwise interested in the universe. Inboard, however, the alarm
rang along the mess-decks and saloons, and men crawled into hen-coops
and deck-houses to man the hidden guns. A few minutes later the submarine
broke surface half a mile astern of the ship, and fired a shot across her
bows. Whereupon the supposed collier stopped her engines, and lay rolling
in the trough of the seas with steam pouring from her exhausts, while the
crew, who had rehearsed this moment to a perfection never yet realised on
the boards of legitimate drama, rushed to and fro with every semblance of
panic. The Captain danced from one end of the bridge to the other, waving
his arms and shouting; boats were turned out and in again amid a deliberate
confusion that brought blushes to the cheeks of the ex-merchant seamen
called upon to play the part.
 In the meantime the submarine had approached at full speed to within
about 700 yards, and, evidently not satisfied with the speed at which the
ship was being abandoned, fired another shot, which pitched 50 yards short
of the engine-room. There was apparently nothing further to be gained by
prolonging the performance for this impatient audience, and the Lieutenant-
Commander on the bridge, cap in hand, and breathless with his pantomimic
exertions, blew a shrill blast on his whistle. Simultaneously the White
Ensign fluttered to the masthead, deck-houses and screens clattered down,
and three minutes later the submarine sank under a rain of shells and
Maxim bullets. As she disappeared beneath the surface the avenger reached
the spot, and dropped a depth-charge over her. A moment after the
explosion the submarine appeared in a perpendicular position alongside the
ship, denting the bilge-keel as she rolled drunkenly among the waves. The
after gun put five more rounds into the shattered hull at point-blank range,
and, as she sank for the last time, two more depth-charges were dropped to
speed her passing.

The Lieutenant-Commander in command had personally been

superintending the administering of the coup de grâce from the stern, and,
as he turned to make his way forward to the bridge, for a few brief moments
the bonds of naval discipline relaxed. His men surged round him in a wildly
cheering throng, struggling to be the first to wring him by the hand. They
then mustered in the saloon, standing bare-headed while their Captain read
the Prayers of Thanksgiving for Victory, and called for three cheers for his
Majesty the King. They cheered as only men can cheer in the first exultant
flush of victory. But as the vessel gathered way and resumed her grim quest,
each man realised, deep down in his heart, that far sterner ordeals lay ahead.

ORDEAL BY FIRE
 Because man is mortal, not infallible, and Fortune at her brightest a
fickle jade, it was inevitable that sooner or later a day must come when a
crippled German submarine would submerge beneath a hail of shells,
miraculously succeed in patching up her damaged hull, and, under cover of
darkness, crawl back to port. Word would then go out from Wilhelmshaven
of a British man-of-war disguised as a lumbering tramp, with such and such
a marking on her funnel, with stumpy masts and rusty deck-houses, who
carried guns concealed in wheel-house and hen-coops, whose bulwarks
collapsed, and whose bridge screens masked quick-firers and desperate
men. German submarines would be warned that to approach such a vessel
was to enter a death-trap, unless every precaution was first taken to ensure
she had been abandoned.

Such a day came in due course; misty, windless, with the aftermath of a
great storm rolling eastward beneath a sullen swell. A vessel with the
outward appearance of a merchantman (the fruits of whose labours for the
past six months had doubtless perplexed that section of the Wilhelmshaven
bureaucracy concerned with the non-return of U-boats), sighted towards
evening the periscope and conning-tower of a submarine a mile away on
her beam.

The figure on the bridge of the tramp, who carried, among other papers
in his charge, his commission as a Commander of the Royal Navy, laughed
as Drake might have laughed when the sails of a Spanish galleon broke the
horizon. A tangle of flags appeared at the periscope of the submarine, and
the tramp stopped obediently, blowing off steam in great clouds. Her
Commander turned over the pages of the International Signal Code, smiling
still. "Hoist: 'Cannot understand your signal,'" he said to the signalman, "I
want to waste a few minutes," and moved to the engine-room voice-pipe.
Obedient to his directions, the screws furtively jogged ahead under cover of
the escaping steam, edging the steamer towards the watching enemy. The
latter, however, promptly manned her foremost gun, turned, and slowly
steamed towards them; she opened fire at a range of half a mile, the shell
passing over the funnel of the disguised man-of-war.

In the tense excitement of that moment, when men's nerves and faculties
were stretched like banjo-strings, the report of the submarine's gun rang
loud through the still air. One of the man-of-war's gun-layers, lying
concealed within his collapsible deckhouse, heard the report, and, thinking
that the ship herself had opened fire without the customary warning gongs,
flung down the screens which masked his weapon. Any further attempt at
concealment was useless. The fire-gongs rang furiously at every gun
position, the White Ensign was triced up to the mast-head in the twinkling
of an eye, and the action started. After the first few hits the submarine lay
motionless, with her bows submerged and her stern in the air for upwards of
five minutes, while shells burst all about her. The heavy swell made
shooting difficult, but eventually she sank in a great commotion of the
water and dense clouds of vapour that hung over the surface for some
minutes. Two depth-charges were dropped over her, and if ever men had
cause for modest self-congratulation on having ridded the seas of yet
another scourge, it would seem that the officers and crew of The King's
Ship might have laid claim to their share. Yet, by ways unknown and
incredible, it was claimed by the enemy that the submarine contrived to
return, with shot-holes plugged, to tell the tale.

Once the cat was out of the bag, it was obvious that in the future the
enemy would not rise to the surface until his torpedo had found its mark,
and it became part of this grim game of bluff for the victim to ensure that
she was hit. Then, when the "panic party" had abandoned the ship, the
remainder must wait concealed and unresponsive beside their hidden guns,
while the submarine rose to the surface and either closed within range or
shelled them with sufficient thoroughness to convince him—who judged
endurance and self-control by no mean standards—that the limit of human
courage had been reached; that there could be no one concealed on board,
and that he might with safety approach to loot and burn. Now this, as Mr.
Kipling would put it, "was a damned tough bullet to chew." They were no
demi-gods, nor yet fanatics, these three-score or so sailor-men. They were
just ordinary human beings, with the average man's partiality for life and a
whole skin, and the love of wife and bairn or sweetheart plucking at the
heart-strings of most of them. But they shared what is not given to all men
in this world of human frailty—a whole-souled confidence in a fellow-man,
which would have carried them at his lightest nod through the gates of hell.
 Under his command, then, they sailed with a cargo of timber in each
hold, and in due course, about 9.45 one morning, a torpedo was seen
approaching the starboard beam. Observing his rôle as Master of a careless
tramp, with poor look-outs, the Commander held on his course. At the last
moment, however, the helm was imperceptibly altered to ensure the ship
being struck abaft the engine-room, where the torpedo might do least
damage. Those whom fate has afforded the opportunity of studying the trail
of an approaching torpedo will, if they recall their sensations, appreciate to
some extent the iron nerve requisite to such a manœuvre. The torpedo burst
abreast No. 3 hold, hurling a wall of water and wreckage to the height of the
mast, and blowing a hole in the ship's side 40 feet wide. Half-stunned and
deafened by the concussion, the Commander raised himself on his hands
and knees, where he had been flung, and shouted to the Navigator: "They've
got us this time!" The Navigator, who was inside the chart-house, thrust his
head out for a moment, moistening a lead pencil with his lips. "I reckon I've
got time to finish working out this sight, sir," he replied with a grin, and
withdrew his head.

The alarm-gongs had already sent the guns' crews to their invisible
guns, and immediately after the explosion "Panic stations" was ordered,
followed in due course by "Abandon ship." The Navigator, having finished
his "sight," and now acting as "Master," abandoned ship with the "panic
party." No sooner had the boats been lowered and shoved off from the ship's
side, however, than the Chief Engineer rang up from below and reported
that the after bulkhead had gone and that the engine-room was filling fast.
Peering, on all fours, through a slit in the bridge-screen, waiting for the
inevitable periscope to appear, the Commander bade him hold on as long as
he could and keep enough steam to work the pumps; when the water had
extinguished the fires, and then only, the engines were abandoned and the
staff remained concealed. This they did, crawling eventually on to the
cylinders to escape from the rising flood.

Shortly after the torpedo struck the ship the periscope of a submarine
broke the surface a couple of hundred yards distant, evidently watching
proceedings with a deliberate, cautious scrutiny. Moving slowly through the
water, like the fin of a waiting shark, the sinister object came gradually
down the ship's side, within five yards of the breathless boats, and not ten
yards from where the Commander lay beside the voice-pipes that connected
him with the Assistant-Paymaster, R.N.R., who, concealed in the gun
control position, was awaiting the order to open fire. From the altitude of
the bridge, the submerged whale-back hull was plainly visible to the figure
crouched behind the bridge-screens, and the temptation to yield to the
impulse of the moment, to open fire and end the suspense, shook even his
iron nerves. A lucky shot might pierce the lead-grey shadow that moved 15
feet beneath the surface; but water plays strange tricks with projectiles,
deflecting them at unexpected ricochets, at angles no man can foretell;
moreover, the submarine was in diving trim. The odds against a broadside
overwhelming her before she could plunge into the depths and escape were
too great. So the Commander waited, with self-control that was almost
superhuman, and, prone beside their guns, unseeing and unseen, his men
waited too.

The ship had then sunk by the stern until it was awash, and the crew of
the gun masked by the wheelhouse were crouched up to their knees in
water. A black cat, the ship's mascot, that had been blown off the forecastle
by the explosion of the torpedo, swam aft and in over the stern, whose
counter rose normally 20 feet above the surface. Still the periscope
continued its unhurried observation; it travelled past the ship, across the
bow, and then slowly moved away, as if content that the task was done. For
the space of nearly a minute bitter disappointment and mortification rose in
the Commander's heart. His ship had been torpedoed and was sinking. Their
quarry had all but been within their grasp, and was now going to escape
unscathed. Then, when hope was flickering to extinction, the submarine
rose to the surface 300 yards on the port bow, and came slowly back
towards the ship.

Up to this juncture, although the ship was settling deeper every moment,
the Commander had purposely refrained from summoning assistance by
wireless, lest interruption should come before his grim work was done.
Now, however, he saw at one quick glance that the Lord had indeed "placed
the enemy upon his lee bow," and the rest was only a matter of a few bloody
moments. Accordingly he gave orders for an urgent wireless signal to be
sent out forthwith summoning assistance, and waited until the submarine
was on a line when all his guns would bear. She reached the desired spot at
the moment when the German Commander was complacently emerging
from the conning-tower; up went the White Ensign, and the first shot
beheaded him; he dropped back into the interior of the submarine, and his
wholly unexpected reappearance imparted a shock of surprise to the
remainder of the inmates from which they never recovered. The submarine
lay motionless as a dead whale, while the avenging broadside shattered the
hull, and the grizzled pensioner inside a hen-coop scientifically raked her
deck with a Maxim to prevent her gun from being manned. She finally sank
with her conning-tower open and the crew pouring shrieking out of the
hatchway.

From the swirling vortex of oil and blood and air bubbles in which the
majority vanished, two dazed prisoners were rescued by the exultant "panic
party" in the boats, and brought back to the ship. Once on board, however,
the imperious necessities of the moment overwhelmed even the elation of
victory. Bulkheads were shored in all compartments still accessible,
confidential documents destroyed in anticipation of the worst, and then all
but the Commander and a handful of men took to the boats and awaited
succour. It came at noon in the guise of a congratulatory and businesslike
Destroyer, and was augmented later by a couple of Sloops. By 5 P.M. the
water had ceased to gain and the ship was in tow, heading for port; there she
arrived, and was safely beached after dark the following day.

Thus her crew, emerging triumphant from the ordeal, added at the last a
feat of seamanship which saved the ship. It required no great power of
imagination to foretell what lay ahead; yet, when the time came for a fresh
venture under the command of the man who had brought them victorious
through the ordeals that were past, they sailed with light hearts and
unafraid. As if for a pledge of that devotion, he wore thenceforward, on the
left breast of his ancient monkey-jacket, the scrap of ribbon which it is the
King's pleasure men shall wear "For Valour."
 3

WON BY WAITING

The disguise adopted by such of his Majesty's ships as were selected to

cope with the U-boat menace, varied according to the changing fashions. In
the early days of the war the rôle of care-free tramp, steering a steady
course, and minus look-outs or gun, was sufficient to lure the enemy to
close quarters on the surface. But as the peculiar methods of warfare
adopted by the German Government harked back to piracy and rape, so the
custom of the seas reverted to the arming of merchantmen for defensive
purposes.

For purpose of offence against the enemy, with which this story of a
King's ship is concerned, a dummy gun sufficed; at all events for
preliminaries. It was mounted prominently aft, attended by a conspicuously
vigilant gunner. To outward appearances the ship was then an armed British
merchant vessel, steering a zigzag course for home at a good speed,
conscious that she was in the danger zone, and, by virtue of her
unmistakable gun and position, liable to be torpedoed at sight according to
the code of customs and chivalry of the sea—as revised by Germany.
Torpedoed at sight she was, at eight o'clock of a misty summer morning, in
a blinding rain storm and heavy sea. The torpedo was fired at apparently
close range, since it jumped out of the water when one hundred yards from
the ship; it struck the engine-room near the water-line, flooding the boiler-
room, engine-room, and adjacent hold. The Stoker Petty Officer on duty in
the engine-room was killed outright by the explosion, and the Third
Engineer, who held a commission as Engineer Sub-Lieutenant, in the Naval
Reserve, was half-stunned and badly wounded by flying splinters and
fragments of coal. Despite the inrush of water, he contrived to reach the
hatchway, and arrived on deck reeling with shock, half-flayed, and
bleeding, to stagger to his post in the second act of the grim drama.

One of the lifeboats had been blown to smithereens, fragments of it

being lodged even in the wires of the aerial between the masts, so great was
the force of the explosion. Under the command of the Navigator, acting the
part of Master, the "panic party" abandoned the ship in the remaining three
boats as the ship settled deeper in the water. The officers and men whose
station was on board were already motionless at their invisible guns; in the
majority of cases they were concealed by screens, but the crew of the
foremost gun were compelled to lie prone on their faces on the exposed
forecastle, unable to stir a muscle until the order came to open fire.

Then for thirty-five leaden minutes, followed the savage ordeal of

waiting for the unknown. For aught these motionless figures knew, the
submarine might torpedo them again at any moment, might break surface
and shell them at extreme range till they sank, or, an even more nerve-
racking possibility, might set off in pursuit of a fresh victim and escape.
Withal was the consciousness that a single movement on board, so much as
a finger raised above screen or coaming, would betray their true character
and bring the game of bluff to a swift and tragic conclusion. The periscope
of the submarine had broken surface a quarter of an hour after the torpedo
struck, about 400 yards distant on the port beam. It turned after a while and
steered towards the ship, but the Captain and Signalman, prone at each end
of the bridge, with their eyes glued to the observation slits, alone were
aware of their quarry's movements. It was in the tense stillness of those
moments, a stillness only disturbed by the lapping of the waves round the
water-logged hull, and by the hiss of escaping steam, that from the little
group of prostrate figures round the foremost gun rose a man's whistle,
executing a gay, if somewhat tremulous, ditty of the sea. For a moment
those in the immediate vicinity of the performer listened to the eerie music
without comment. Then a motionless officer, moved by a sense of what was
seemly at such a time and what was not, rebuked the minstrel. "I dursn't
stop, sir," said the boy—he was only seventeen—"cos if I stops whistlin' I
gits scared."

As the submarine drew nearer to the ship the Commander on the bridge
of the disguised man-of-war cast a swift glance round to see that all was
well, and saw the old and trusted Quartermaster lying face downwards
beside the wheel. "For God's sake," he called, "don't show yourself, he's
nibbling...." "Aye, aye, sir," said the faithful seaman. And then, so ingrained
apparently had become the habit of disguise on board, he furtively dragged
a lifebelt over the most prominent portion of his anatomy.

When fifty yards off the ship the periscope vanished, to reappear a few
minutes later directly astern. Very deliberately, as a cat plays with a mouse
before dealing the last stroke, the periscope travelled on to the starboard
quarter, turned, and came back round the stem to the port beam, where the
boats were lying. The stage management of the drama then passed into the
hands of the Navigator in charge of the boats. His task was not lightened by
a disposition on the part of the "panic party" to regard the affair in the light
of high comedy, despite the cold scrutiny of the periscope. In no measured
terms he reminded them that they were presumed by the Teutonic
intelligence beneath the waves to be terrified mariners, not a boat-load of
grinning buffoons; and then, mindful of the shortness of the visibility and
the known weakness of the enemy for light banter with castaways in boats,
he began pulling towards the ship. As he had foreseen, the submarine
promptly rose to the surface and followed in pursuit, closing to within a few
yards of the masked guns on board. An angry Hun shouted abuse through a
megaphone from the top of the submarine's conning tower, and was
reinforced a moment later by an equally abusive and impatient gentleman of
the good old Prussian school, clasping a Maxim in his hands.

The prospect of being shot by either party at this juncture of the

performance was none too remote. Yet the boat continued pulling as if
manned by deaf mutes until the submarine had been lured into the desired
position. Then suddenly the eagerly awaited White Ensign shot up to the
masthead. Screens clattered down along the length of the ship's side, and a
broadside of yellow flame leaped out over their heads. The submarine was
suddenly plastered by bursting shell and half hidden by leaping
waterspouts, as she slowly listed over to her side, with oil spouting from the
rents in her hull. Her crew scrambled wildly out of the conning tower and
waved their hands above their heads in token of surrender. Fire instantly
ceased on board the British man-of-war, when unexpectedly the crippled
enemy, her stern submerged, shot ahead and made off at high speed. The
would-be "Kamerads" on her deck were swept into the sea by her last wild
rush through the water, and the British guns broke out again in vengeful
chorus. Fire was continued until she blew up and sank, one wretch clinging
to her bows as she disappeared.

In spite of the heavy sea, the boats succeeded in rescuing two prisoners
from the water before returning to the ship. An American Destroyer arrived
a few hours later, accompanied by two Sloops. With their assistance the
ship was brought safely into port, and of all who had passed through the
soul-stirring events of the day none exhibited greater satisfaction or surprise
at living to see it close than the late upholders of German freedom of the
seas.

By command of his Majesty the King, one officer and one man were
selected by ballot for the honour of the Victoria Cross from among the
ship's company in recognition of the fact that, where all played so valiant a
part, the distinction was earned by the ship rather than by the individual. Yet
their task, the task required of them by the England which reads these lines
at a well-found breakfast table, was still unfinished. They sailed again in
another ship, knowing full well that they alone could never accomplish it
entirely. But the name of that ship* shall be a household word some day
wherever the English tongue is spoken, because of the ordeal these men
endured behind her shattered bulwarks for England's sake.

* H.M.S. Dunraven.

THE SPLENDID FAILURE

To travel hopefully, said Robert Louis Stevenson, is better than to

arrive; and therein he summed up the whole attitude of the Anglo-Saxon
race towards human endeavour. It is our custom to honour the achievement
less than the spirit, in the wistful hope, perhaps, that thus may we, too, be
judged in our turn at the last. This is a record of failure, if the venture is to
be judged by its material result. Yet the lesson it will carry to succeeding
generations is concerned with neither success nor failure, but with those
shining heights of the Spirit (attainable by every mother's son) where no
fear is.

The King's ship to which this story relates was a steamer of some 3,000
tons, to outward appearances an armed merchantman with a light gun
mounted on her poop. To make plain what happened on board it is
necessary, however, that the uninitiated should be admitted into certain
secrets of her construction. A wooden structure on the poop, common to
merchantmen of her type, concealed a gun of effective calibre behind
collapsible covers. Beneath this gun position, and occupying much of the
space below the poop, were the magazine and shell rooms. Four depth-
charges were fitted at her stern; any one of these dropped over the position
of a submerged submarine was calculated on detonating to do all that was
necessary. In addition, a smaller gun was mounted on the forecastle on a
disappearing mounting, while hen-coops and deck fittings concealed similar
armament at other points of vantage. To complete her offensive capabilities,
she carried a masked torpedo tube on either beam.

This, then, was the true character of the ship which a German submarine
sighted on the horizon at eleven o'clock one morning. She noted the small
gun displayed defensively aft, and started in pursuit, firing as she went. The
submarine was sighted directly she rose to the surface, whereupon the
Captain of the man-of-war ordered the after gun to be manned and the
remainder of the crew to take shell cover, tactics which differed in no
respect from those customary to merchantmen under the circumstances. On
the other hand, speed was imperceptibly decreased, and the crew of the
light gun at the stern directed to shoot short in order to encourage the
adversary to draw closer. It says much for the discipline on board that men
thus prominently exposed to the fire of the pursuing enemy could
deliberately continue to reply to it in the consciousness that their shots were
not required to hit. German submarine commanders at this phase of the war
were growing notoriously "nervy"; hysterical appeals for help were
therefore sent out by wireless, in the hope that the enemy would intercept
them and gain confidence.

The heavy sea gradually rendered it impossible for the submarine to

maintain the pursuit and man her gun. She therefore abandoned the
bombardment and came on at full speed, until after a chase of about an hour
she turned broadside on and again opened fire. Shots were then falling
close, and at 12.40 the steamer stopped, as great clouds of steam emerging
from the engine-room showed she was disabled, and the "panic party"
proceeded to abandon ship. To lend colour to the general atmosphere of
demoralisation and confusion, one of the boats was purposely dropped by a
single fall, and remained hanging from the davit in a vertical position. In the
meantime the enemy had closed nearer and continued methodically shelling
the ship. A shell struck the poop, exploding one of the depth-charges and
blowing the officer in charge of the after concealed gun out of his control
position; on recovering consciousness, however, he crawled inside the gun
hatch, where his crew of seven men were hidden. The seaman
superintending the depth-charges was badly wounded by this explosion and
lay motionless. Seeing his condition, the hidden crew of the after gun
attempted to drag him within their place of concealment, but the injured
man stubbornly refused to be moved. "I was put here in charge of these
things," he replied, indicating the remaining depth-charges, "and here I
stop." And stop he did until subsequent events proved stronger than even
his indomitable spirit. Two more shells burst inside the poop in quick
succession, and a few moments later dense clouds of smoke and flames
disclosed the disquieting fact that the after part of the ship was heavily on
fire.

From his customary place at the end of the bridge, peering through slits
in his armoured coign of observation, the Captain watched the submarine
turn and come slowly past the ship 400 yards away. The next moment, as he
was about to open fire on an easy target, the wind caught the smoke from
the conflagration aft and blew it like a curtain across his vision. The Captain
was confronted with two alternatives. One was to open fire there and then
on a partially obscured target, or wait until the submarine should round the
stern and come past the weather side, where the smoke did not interfere
with the accuracy of the shooting. At the same time he was conscious that
the fire raging aft must very soon engulf the magazine. It could only be a
matter of moments before the magazine blew up, and with it the masked
gun and its crew.

Nothing but utter confidence in the devotion of that gun's crew, the
conviction that even in the direst extremity they would remain concealed
and motionless, enabled the Captain to choose the second of these
alternatives. Yet he chose it, determined at all costs to make sure of his
quarry, and waited; and while he waited the deck on which this gun's crew
were crouched grew slowly red-hot, so that they were compelled to cling to
the mounting of the gun and to hold the cartridges in their arms. Their
ordeal ended as the submarine was rounding the stern. The magazine and
two more depth-charges blew up with a deafening roar, hurling gun, gun's
crew, fragments of wreckage, and unexploded shells high in the air. One
member of the crew fell into the water, where he was picked up by the
"panic party"; the remainder, including the depth-charge keeper, landed in
the well-deck, with the gun.

The concussion of the explosion had, however, started the electrically

controlled fire-gongs at the remaining gun positions. Thereupon the White
Ensign fluttered automatically up to the masthead, and one gun—the only
one that would bear—opened an unavailing fire on the enemy, who had
begun to dive immediately the explosion had taken place. The ruse had
failed, and every man on board realised on the instant that what must follow
was to be the supreme test. The wounded were removed out of sight with all
speed, hoses were turned on to the burning part of the ship, and wireless
signals sent out warning all men-of-war to divert traffic for a radius of 30
miles, that nothing should interrupt the last phase of this savage duel a
entrance.

To borrow a phrase from sporting parlance, they ensured that the ring
was kept, but in so doing they deprived themselves of any hope of succour
from the savagery of the enemy, should the ship sink and leave them at the
submarine's mercy. In this comfortable reflection, therefore, they settled
down and awaited the inevitable torpedo.

It must be remembered that the ship was now openly a man-of-war,

flying the White Ensign, with guns unmasked. At 1.20 P.M., two hours and
twenty minutes after first sighting the submarine, a torpedo struck the ship
abreast the engine-room, hurling blazing wreckage and water in all
directions. With far-seeing thoroughness of organisation this moment had
been anticipated sooner or later for months past. Accordingly, at the order
of "Abandon ship," the men previously detailed launched the remaining
boat and a raft, and paddled clear of the doomed vessel. The Captain and
crews of two guns and both torpedo tubes, the Navigator, Assistant
Paymaster, and Quartermaster remained on board. For the ensuing eighty
minutes, while the fire in the poop continued to blaze furiously, and the
ammunition in the vicinity detonated like a succession of gigantic Chinese
crackers, the periscope circled suspiciously round the ship and boats. At
2.30 the submarine rose to the surface in a position on which none of the
guns on board would bear, and began once more shelling the ship and boats
with vindictive fury.

For twenty minutes the remnant on board endured this ordeal, lying face
downwards and motionless on the splintered planking. It is recorded that
during the hottest of the fire one of the foremost gun's crew requested, in a
hoarse whisper, to be allowed to take his boots off. The officer in his
vicinity inquired the reason for this strange request, to which the man
replied that he didn't think he had much longer to live, and, on the whole,
thought he'd prefer not to die with his boots on. He subsequently explained
that he came of a respectable family.

By means of the voice-pipe connecting him with the guns' control, the
Captain cheered and encouraged his men through that long agony. Small
wonder they loved an officer who exhorted them in such a pass to "keep
merry and bright"; who quoted Bairnsfather to the boyish officer in the
control when shells were bursting all about his head ("If you know of a
better 'ole, go to it!"); who, when the wounded Navigator, blinded with
blood at the opposite end of the bridge, called that he was done, replied:
"You're all right! Hang on, 'cos we've got him cold!" and found time to
steady the guns' crews with, "Remember the V.C. The King has given the
ship, lads."

At 2.50 P.M. the submarine abruptly ceased shelling and submerged.

Then, with only a periscope showing, he steamed once more past the ship.
As he came abeam under-water, the British Captain played one of his few
remaining trump cards, and discharged a torpedo; it missed by inches, and
passed unnoticed. Going very slowly, the enemy then crossed the bow and
came down the starboard side. One last desperate chance remained, and the
second torpedo was fired. In an agony of suspense they watched the trail of
bubbles flicker towards the periscope, held their breath for the explosion,
and saw the tell-tale wake pass a foot astern of the periscope. They had shot
their bolt, and the game was up. A wireless signal was immediately sent out
for urgent assistance, as the wary enemy had sighted the last torpedo and
promptly dived. The ship was sinking fast, and to wait for another torpedo
or further shelling would have meant the useless sacrifice of life. A United
States destroyer, an armed yacht, and two British destroyers that had been
hovering below the horizon, rushed up at full speed and took charge of the
wounded. The ship sank thirty-four hours later, with her colours flying,
after strenuous endeavours had been made to save her.

Despite the almost incredible gruelling the crew had undergone, all
survived the action. The officer in charge of the after-gun received the
Victoria Cross, and one of the gun's crew was selected by ballot for a
similar honour. The remainder, including the hand told off for the depth-
charges, who has since succumbed to his wounds, were awarded the
Conspicuous Gallantry Medal.

Much of the tale remains untold, but it is best brought to an all too brief
conclusion in the words of the official report written by the officer, who, as
his head and shoulders appeared above the bridge screen at the conclusion
of the action, brought forth the following ecstatic shout from one of the
"panic party": "Blimey! there's the Skipper still alive! Gawd, wouldn't them
perishin' 'Uns give ninepence an inch for 'im!" This officer's report
concludes as follows:

It is hardly necessary for me again to refer to the behaviour of my crew

—the tactics I carried out were only possible through the utmost confidence
I had in my ship and my crew. I would especially bring to your notice the
extreme bravery of Lieutenant Bonner, R.N.R., the officer in charge, and
the 4-in. gun's crew. Lieutenant Bonner, having been blown out of his
control by the first explosion, crawled into the gun hatch with the crew.
They there remained at their posts with a fire raging in the poop below and
the deck getting red hot. One man tore up his shirt to give pieces to the
gun's crew to stop the fumes getting into their throats, others lifted the
boxes of cordite off the deck to keep them from exploding, and all the time
they knew they must be blown up, as the secondary supply and magazine
were immediately below. They told me afterwards that communication with
the bridge was cut off, and although they would be blown up, they also
knew they would spoil the show if they moved, so they remained until
actually blown up with their gun.

Then, when, as wounded men, they were ordered to remain quiet in

various places during the second action, they had to lie there unattended and
bleeding, with explosions continually going on aboard and splinters from
the enemy's shell-fire penetrating their quarters. Lieutenant Bonner, himself
wounded, did what he could for two who were with him in the wardroom.
When I visited them after the action they thought little of their wounds, but
only expressed their disgust that the enemy had not been sunk. Surely such
bravery is hard to equal. The strain for the men who remained on board
after the ship had been torpedoed, poop set on fire, cordite and shells
exploding, and then the enemy shell-fire can easily be imagined. I much
regret that two officers and seven men were wounded, and am very grateful
to U.S.S. Noma for taking charge of the two most dangerous cases. I—we—
deeply regret the loss of one of H.M. ships, and still more the escape of the
enemy. We did our best, not only to destroy the enemy and save the ship,
but also to show ourselves worthy of the Victoria Cross the King recently
bestowed on the ship.

I have the honour to be, Sir, your obedient servant,

(Signed) GORDON CAMPBELL,

Captain, R.N.
 III

"NOT IN THE PRESENCE OF THE

ENEMY"
(1918)

THE GLEANER

The motor-launch chugged to the limit of her beat and wheeled with her
bows to a rusty sunset. The wind had been freshening steadily since noon
and the steep grey seas were edged with spray, streaked like the flanks of an
over-spurred horse. The motor-launch, from a monotonous corkscrew roll,
changed to a jerky see-saw that enveloped her in a bitterly cold cascade at
every downward plunge.

The R.N.V.R. Lieutenant in command leaned with one broad shoulder

against the side of the wheel-shelter, his legs braced far apart and his oilskin
flapping wetly against his leather sea-boots. As each successive welter of
spray drove past his head he raised a pair of glasses and searched the
horizon to the westward where the sombre November sunset was fast
fading.

Somewhere below that horizon the homeward-bound convoy was

approaching, and his orders were to patrol a given length of the swept
channel up the coast on the look-out for floating mines that might have
drifted by chance currents from distant mine-fields. Twice since dawn the
sweepers had passed over that water and reported the fair-way clear; but
with a dozen shiploads of wheat to pass up it in the morning, no one was
taking any chances. "Patrol till dark; floating mines to be sunk by gun or
rifle fire," said his orders. The R.N.V.R. Lieutenant had been reckoned a
good shot with a rifle in the days when he was an Admiralty clerk, and
spent his Saturday afternoons on a rifle range at Wormwood Scrubs; he
glanced from the bucking deck of his command to the rifle hanging in
slings over the Coxswain's head, and smiled rather doubtfully to himself. As
if in challenge to that smile, the Signalman on the other side of the
Coxswain suddenly extended his telescope and arm in a straight line to
seaward.

"Mine awash, sir," he shouted. "Two points on the port bow." The
Coxswain raised his eye from the binnacle and moved the wheel through
half a turn.

The Lieutenant stared through his glasses. "Umph," he said. The crew of
the muffled six-pounder in the bows emerged from the fore hatchway and
began to cast off the clips securing the lid of the ammunition box.

In silence they stared at the dull green globular object that bobbed past
them in the trough of a sea, the soft lead horns projecting ominously as the
waves washed over the rounded surface.

"One of ours," said the Lieutenant, with a swift expert glance. He

stepped inboard a pace and studied a chart. "Hell! It's come a long way—
must ha' been Tuesday's gale."

The launch held on her course till she had reached the limit of the safety
zone of a bursting mine; stopped, and brought the gun to the ready. The
gun-layer adjusted his sight, and the tiny gun platform rolled in sickening
lurches.

"She may steady for a moment," said the Lieutenant, without

conviction. "Choose your time." The gunlayer chose it.

"Bang! A puff of smoke dissolved about the muzzle and the shell sent
up a column of foam a yard beyond the preposterous target.
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