The Peril of Seaman Diver Young

By

Major Charlton Anne

Taken from the Wide World Adventure circa 1900

Reproduced and presented for your enjoyment by
Ed & Barbara Cumming

Towards the latter end of the month of September, in the year 1896, Her Majesty’s first-class battleship Hood (Captain Drury) was lying in Suda Bay, looking after British interests in Crete (Crete the perturbed and lurid).  This was before the recent row broke out, however, and previous to the Greek landing.  The great battleship had only just previously been re-commissioned, and had but recently arrived from Malta with an entirely new crew.

Whilst in Suda Bay the officers of the Hood [1] amused themselves by organising shooting expeditions to the neighbouring marshes, where duck and snipe abound.  There was also a certain amount of exercise to be got in the shape of walking and riding - under somewhat stringent rules, however; for, needless to say, at that period the island was in a most unsettled condition.

Officers’ bathing parties also took advantage of the many small coves lying around the Akrotiri peninsula, which was destined shortly to become famous as the principal stronghold of the Christian insurgents in Crete.  The ordinary seamen, however, were on no account whatever allowed to land.  They had to put up with the usual service routine and strict discipline, which, as in the case of the Hood, is doubly severe on all newly commissioned ships, until such time as the crew have got thoroughly knocked into shape.  And, of course, strict discipline, combined with hard work, and plenty of it, is the surest way of arriving at this much-desired consummation on board a British man-of-war.

Despite the fact that the month of September is the hottest month of the year in the Mediterranean, drills and gun practice (with greater or lesser quick-firers) were the order throughout each day of the Hood’s sojourn in Suda Bay.  And when the sea was smooth enough there would be torpedo practice with those small torpedoes, which are usually in vogue on these occasions.  These are only about 12ft. long, so the sailors affectionately call them “babies”.

Now, a torpedo is a thing with apparently as capricious a temper as that of a spoiled child at times.  And so it happened that one of these infants, when fired from the Hood one morning, instead of pursuing an even and horizontal course in the direction of the target which it was intended to hit, suddenly took a turn, and tossing its tail upwards in derision in the face of the whole ship’s company, ran down vertically at full speed.  The result was that its other end, or “nose” as it is called, became embedded some 6ft. or 7ft. in the stiff clay which lines the bottom of Suda Bay.  It was afterwards found that one small split pin had come out of a rod, causing the torpedo to run vertically instead of horizontally.

At that time the Hood was anchored in about thirteen fathoms of water.  A merciful Providence has apparently decreed (doubtless with a view to economising much time, bad temper, and scarlet language on the part of ships’ officers) that an escaped torpedo shall always let those above know its whereabouts by the bubbles which the compressed air, which works the mechanism inside it, discharges to the surface.  Thus a lost torpedo will sometimes continue to give off bubbles for days after is has disappeared.

In this instance the truant was quickly located through its boiling up like a veritable geyser in miniature, some fifty yards from the ship.  Even a “baby” torpedo is too costly a thing to be lost without the utmost being done for its recovery, so preparations were at once made on board the Hood to do so in this case.

The ship’s divers, of whom there were three, were immediately warned to get ready.  The launch was manned and lowered alongside, furnished with all the apparatus necessary for diving operations.  She carried one of Siebe & Gorman’s patent three-cylinder air-pumps.  These pumps are capable of supplying ample air to two divers simultaneously, the depth of twelve fathoms. Beyond that depth, it is safe only to allow the pump to supply air to one diver at a time.  In this instance, the lost torpedo being about thirteen fathoms down, it was not thought advisable to send down more than one diver at a time during the subsequent operations.

In the course of the afternoon which followed, two divers had descended and found the torpedo.  They had attached 3½ in. grass ropes to it, but these had broken at every attempt to drag the torpedo out of the mud in which it was so firmly embedded.  At 5.45 pm it fell to the lot of No.148,127,  Seaman, Gunner and Diver John Young to descend and make a final attempt for that day.

On this occasion the torpedo was (it was hoped) to be raised by attaching a 5in. hemp hawser to it.  It was rapidly growing dusk.  The sea was smooth, with an occasional ripple on its surface, raised by the soft evening breeze.  The temperature on the surface was about 85 degs. Farenheit, and that of the waters underneath from 7 degs.  to 10 degs. lower.  A few yards beneath the surface it was practically dark, and it is necessary to bear in mind all these conditions and circumstances, they being essential to a right appreciation of the narrative.  Diver Young had donned a brand new dress for the occasion.  Before the helmet was screwed home he assured his assistants that he would “have the blessed thing up in half a mo.”  He went over the side, his weights were put on over his shoulders, the cranks of the pumps began to revolve, and when the signal of “All right” had been given by two pats on the top of his helmet, John Young gently sank beneath the waves, easing himself down his shot-rope as he went, as seen in the first diagram reproduced.

Diagram 1

It may here be mentioned that the shot-rope is an inch line, to which a half hundredweight “sinker” is attached.  This is always the first thing to be lowered from a diver’s boat, and is a guide to the diver himself, both in descending and ascending.  Besides the shot-line - to which he is not attached - the diver is also connected with the boat by a breast-line, which is fastened to his shoulders, and, of course, there is likewise the air-pipe, which is screwed into the side of his helmet, and then connected with the air cylinders above.

A pressure gauge on the pump indicates through a dial the exact depth at which the diver below is working.  It must be borne in mind that the adventures of John Young after he became submerged could only be subsequently guessed after unravelling the incredible tangle of his various ropes and the air-tube after his rescue.  But a careful note of the time of all his signals from below, and of every effort made above towards his aid, was kept on the spot by the officer who was in charge of the diving operations; this was Lieutenant (now Commander) E. Charlton of the Hood.  The diagrams were originally drawn on the spot whilst the diver was below.  It would appear that in Suda Bay there must have been a submarine current, probably only very slight, but nevertheless sufficiently strong when Young descended to turn him gradually, but completely, round, so that when he touched the bottom he had unknowingly already got foul.  Diagram No. 2 shows the position at this moment.

Diagram 2

Utterly unaware of this, and finding the torpedo immediately, Young gave the signal - a pull on his life-line - which had already been agreed upon, and which meant that he was ready for the 5in. hawser to be lowered to him.  This being done, and catching hold of the end of the hawser, he groped his way to the torpedo, wading through the heavy bottom mud, which was nearly up to his knees.  Making the hawser fast to the tail of the torpedo, he must have moved completely round the submerged weapon from left to right, thus making another foul.

The hawser being made fast, Young now started to ascend up the shot-rope. Quite unaware that he had made a hitch round both it and the torpedo with both his air-pipe and breast-line.  The muddle so far can be realised by a glance at Diagram 3.

Diagram 3

But to return to the surface.  It was now 6.30 pm.  The wind, which had hitherto been blowing gently from the westward, suddenly increased and, with the sunset, veered round to the North.  The huge battleship swinging to it threatened to carry away both the launch and the whole diving apparatus.  This would, of course, have meant instant death to the diver below.  Happily, such a terrible catastrophe was averted by a kedge anchor and line being promptly laid out from the off-quarter of the Hood.

By this time Young must have come to the conclusion that he was fouled, for he had ascended a short distance and then found he could not move.  Therefore, like a wise man, he went down again and tried to find out where the trouble was; but owing to its being pitch dark where he was, it is not to be wondered at that he failed to do so.

Almost despairing of being able to fee himself, and dreading to resort to the last resource (that of cutting himself clear with his knife), lest he should get foul again whilst going up, the unfortunate man gave four pulls on his air-pipe.  This is the most urgent signal that a diver can send to his friends above. It means, “Pull me up at once by my life-line”.

Diagram 4

At first the operators hesitated to act on this, but on the urgent repetition of the signal, the order was given on the launch to haul in the life-line.  But on commencing to do this the operators found it was impossible to bring up more than a fathom of the line.  Worse still,  the only result of this operation was to turn Young completely upside down!  The very first pull on the line - entangled as it was found the torpedo - must have done this.

Now, once a diver loses his perpendicular and gets horizontal, the air gets into the legs of his dress - up they go, and then nothing that he can do will ever bring them down again.  He is a mere helpless wind-bag, quite incapable of reversing himself.  This is precisely what must have happened to Young.  The loop of his life-line round the torpedo pulled him on to his chest; the hapless man’s legs immediately went up, buoyed with air, and so he remained, bumping about on his head in total darkness, 78ft. at the bottom of the sea.  The accompanying diagram (No. 5) shows at a glance the effect of trying to haul up poor Seaman Diver Young, who was now hopelessly entangled.

Diagram 5

 Of course, those above could not tell what had happened, although they may have fairly well guessed.  Unable to bring the diver up, and getting no more alarm signals from him, a fifty candle-power electric submarine lamp was lowered down to him at 7.30 pm.  To this was attached a slate and pencil, so that the helpless man could write on the slate and inform those above precisely what his dilemma was.

Diagram 6

After his rescue Young said he remembered seeing the light, but never had any recollection of the slate.  All this time he was floating at the bottom of the sea, heels uppermost, the monotony being varied by his occasionally thumping his head into the mud.  During the next hour all other expedients to communicate with him were tried, but all proved equally fruitless.  And now another grave danger entered upon the extraordinary scene. The cylinder of the air-pump, which had been working continuously for some eight hours, showed signs of over-work, and were rapidly getting red-hot.  In this case they would have to be stopped altogether.  However, luckily there was a plentiful supply of ice on board the Hood, and by packing this continually round the pump it was kept cool enough to work.

While these operations were going on, Her Majesty’s sloop Dolphin hove in sight, and joined her huge consort in Suda Bay.  A signal was at once made to her from the flagship so send immediately a boat with diver and apparatus.  The Dolphin’s boat brought at once a couple of divers and a one-man pump.  One of the divers went down as quickly as possible in search of Young; but he was a new hand at the work, and speedily returned to the surface, having failed to see anyone or anything!

At 9 p.m. all lines attached to Young, which had previously been kept taut, as well as the hawser which he had fastened to the torpedo, and the shot-line - all were simultaneously eased.  The result of this was that the unfortunate mad gradually ascended - though, of course, he was still head downward.  At 9.45 p.m. the second diver from the Dolphin descended, and by the air of the electric light he found Young bobbing about in a perfectly helpless condition.

Diagram 7

 He shook the luckless diver by the hand, and tried in other ways to attract his attention.  Getting no response to his efforts, he came up and reported Young quite dead.  The unfortunate man was now actually sighted from the launch, legs up and head down, about 24ft. below the surface of the translucent water.  There remained only one thing to be done - namely to pull up the torpedo by main force by means of the hawser attached to it.  It was a desperate and last resource.

In a letter written home the next day Lieutenant Charlton said : “I had to decide and take the risk of the hawser being around the diver, when we put the launch and steam pinnace on her.  Had the diver got the strain he must have been torn to pieces.”  The launch was now manned by a picked boat’s crew of forty men, who laid hold of the hawser.  The launch was in her turn taken in tow by the ship’s steam pinnace, the latter’s furnace burning for all it was worth, and her boilers carrying the fullest head of steam possible.

When all was in readiness the signal was given, “Full steam ahead.”  This was done twice, each time in a different direction, but without any apparent result.  The torpedo, firmly wedged in the clay, would not budge!  Then again once more - this time spurt at right angles to previous pulls and at full speed.  Again eighty brawny arms in the launch heaved and hauled with a will;  the steam pinnace panted and puffed, her screw beating the calm waters into a milky foam.  Both boats were at a standstill, quivering with the immense strain put upon them from stern to bow.

The suddenly, and without any apparent warning, the torpedo, having given way at last, the helpless diver came shooting out of the water feet foremost, with an impetus that almost landed him into the arms of the crew of the launch.  The lost torpedo came alongside almost at the same moment.

The shot-line was found twisted round Young’s right arm, and the limb was apparently broken.  The face-plate was quickly removed from the poor fellow’s helmet, which was found three-quarters full of water.  The new dress had evidently leaked slightly, and all the while that Young had been bumping about on his head the sea had been slowly oozing through and accumulating in his helmet.  It had reached his eyebrows when he shot violently to the surface.  Another quarter of an hour, and his mouth and nostrils would have been covered.

The shot-rope was cut away.  Every soul in the boat thought that the man had been dead some hours.  They were beginning to cut away the sleeve of the indiarubber dress, so as to free his arm, when suddenly, and the utter amazement of all present, the eyes of the supposed dead man opened and a very sepulchral voice murmured, in feeble protest: “Don’t cut the blankety dress; it’ a new ‘un!”  An immense cheer - such a one as only British tars can give - rent the air from the boats and was quickly taken up on board the war-ship.  The whole vicinity was filled with the joyous sound, which told of the diver’s marvelous survival.

Beyond the fact that his arm was severely contused and painful, Young appeared to be none the worse at the time; and after a good night’s rest he was going about his duties as usual next day.  When we consider that he was under water, 78ft. deep, for over five hours in total darkness, most of the time upside down and hopelessly entangled with two ropes and the torpedo, we can safely say that his experience was unique, and in all the records of diving his escape may be taken as the most wonderful known.

Young evidently kept his head with great coolness from first to last, especially when he found he was foul.  But it is surmised that for some time before his rescue he was probably almost unconscious, since he said, when asked about it, “that the time had passed very quickly!”.