After "General Quarters" next morning a hideous rumour arose that we should be required to go basseting again that afternoon, but mercifully other affairs intervened, and furthermore it began to rain, so to our great relief basseting was declared off.
Most of the gunroom mess went to Edinburgh again, but I stayed on board and spent a quiet hour or so writing letters.
The ships destroy us above And ensnare us beneath; We arise, we lie down, and we move In the belly of Death.
The ships have a thousand eyes To mark where we come ... And the mirth of a seaport dies When our blow gets home.
_From "Fringes of the Fleet,"_ _by_ KIPLING
On January 15, 1917, we left the base where we had spent Christmas and proceeded northward again, but nothing worthy of note occurred until some six weeks later. Then one day we were going to sea for manœuvres, and soon after we had cleared the harbour some of us Snotties at the time variously occupied in the gunroom were startled by blasts from the siren.
We promptly rushed up on deck to find the ship rapidly altering course to port; at the same moment the forward 4-inch guns fired a salvo, and we saw the shells fall about 3000 yards away, just short of the conning-tower of a U-boat awash on the surface. Apparently until we fired she had been unaware of our approach, for she immediately submerged, and made no attempt to fire a torpedo at us.
Notwithstanding the fact that submarine warfare has become almost a commonplace of naval existence, the knowledge of the near presence of an invisible foe never fails to produce a considerable thrill and a tightening of the nerves, half hope and half apprehension. This doubtless is intensified in the case of those who have already been through the unpleasing experience of having their floating home sunk beneath their feet. In addition to my own midnight adventure in the Dardanelles on May 13, 1915, three of the others in the gunroom had already undergone that ordeal when the _Hogue_ was torpedoed. However, this particular U-boat must have been suffering from nerves, for, so far as we know, she made no attempt to attack us. Perhaps the near presence of our watchful destroyers suggested to her that it was a case for discretion rather than for valour. Barring this incident manœuvres on that occasion passed off uneventfully.