The Only Way
Introduction
Urquhart, A.E. "The Only Way." Herbert Strang’s Annual 13 (1921): 61-64. Print.
The author of this short story wrote for other issues of the journal, but information about him is scarce. The Only Way is the epitome of the kind of literature published in Herbert Strang’s Annual. Its protagonist is Jim Rodman, the first mate of the s.s. Marlan, a liner escorting a hospital ship carrying thousands of wounded soldiers to safety. Jim has personal interest in the ship as all of his and his brother’s savings are invested in it. The story begins with Jim expressing concern because the owners of the liner have not insured it against war risks. As the story progresses, a torpedo is shot at the Marlan from an enemy German ship. Jim maneuvers the Marlan in such a way that he sacrifices it to the torpedo as a way to spare the hospital ship and its thousands of helpless, wounded men. He is hailed as a hero and later discovers that his own brother, wounded in the war, was on the hospital ship. In this story the qualities of bravery, quickness of thought, self-sacrifice, and making the right decision in the face of opposition are highlighted. Herbert Strang’s Annual seeks to inspire these qualities in its readers. It reflects the desire of the time to bring young men to wholesome activities and impress on them the responsibility and nobility of serving their country.
Transcription
The Only Way
Jim Rodman, first mate of s.s. Marlan, was leaning over the bridge rail, [1] looking as though life were a burden to him.
He was roused from his reverie by a tap on the shoulder. Glancing up, he saw the ruddy, boyish face of his junior.
Hullo, ‘Roddy! said the other cheerily; what’s up? Your face is as long as a Cape Horn passage.
I’m worried, Tony–down in my luck–humped, and Rodman shrugged his shoulders.
No. But it may be. I haven’t heard from Alec for nearly six weeks. The last letter was in a shaky hand, saying he was wounded and in hospital. If anything happens to him, it’ll knock the bottom out of everything. You see there are only the two of us–and he’s only a kid–and such a smart, nice kid too.
But letters do go wrong. You’ll find one from him at Liverpool, urged Tony cheerily.
Hope so. But I ought to have got one at Bordeaux. And it isn’t only that, Tony, Rodman went on, in gloomy tones. You may, or may not, know that every penny of our money–Alec’s and mine–is in the Marlan. We’re part owners, in a small way, and Alec’s start in life depends on the luck of the boat. And now what fool’s game do you think our co-partners have played? he asked fiercely.
Tony admitted that shipowners were capable of any idiocy; but could not guess of what particular form of lunacy Rodman was the victim.
They haven’t insured against war risks. The Marlan is taking her chances; and if she’s ‘biffed,’ down goes our little all–and not a penny compensation.
Idiots! Idiots of the purest breed, was the opinion of the second mate. But we’re nearly through now. We shall get into port all right. Don’t worry.
I wish I could think so, sighed Jim. The worst part is to come. Two boats were ‘put down’ yesterday. And look along the coast. Why, from Flamborough to Whitby you can see masts sticking up like pins in a pin-cushion. I shan’t feel comfortable till we’re snug in port.
The Marlan was homeward bound from the South of France, and had fallen in, about mid-Channel, with a convoy from the Mediterranean.
After much parleying, [2] with the destroyer escort as regarded speed and destination, she had been allowed to share the protection of the war vessels until she reached England.
The position allotted to her was the outside of the convoy, and on the port side of a great hospital ship. For the last eight hours the Marlan had been steaming along with her bows in line with the bridge of her big neighbor.
Jim had been careful to maintain the position, since he was proud of his little ship’s turn of speed, and would not concede an inch, even to such a leviathan. [3]
Shows what beasts these Germans are, remarked Tony disgustedly. Fancy a hospital ship with an escort—and being obliged to douse her lights at night. Makes you see red to think of it. There she goes, Rodman, he added, as one bell sounded. Time you turned in.
So I shall, soon. But somehow I don’t feel like it to-night.
You’ve got torpedoes on the brain, laughed the other. A good eight hours’ spell in your bunk will clear that away. Sleep is what you want.
Sleep is a funny bird to catch at times. But, anyhow, I’ll try. And with that Rodman stepped down from the bridge, leaving his junior in command.
A feeling of uneasiness made Rodman disinclined to go below, tired though he was. For some minutes he stood, his eyes searching the calm water for any sign of the lurking danger, which he knew could not be far away. The sun was setting redly behind them, and the slight evening breeze scarcely ruffled the surface of the water.
Still lingering, he saw the watch come tumbling out of the fo’castle,[4] and group themselves round the cook’s galley, squabbling over an old newspaper one of them had abstracted [5] from the chart-room.
He argued with himself as to the absurdity of giving way to fancies, and had turned his face towards his cabin when a yell from Tony brought him round instantly.
The fiends are at it again. Here she comes!
Rodman sprang on to the bridge, and followed the line of Tony’s pointing hand.
A little spurt of foam had started, about two miles distant, and was traveling towards them.
Jim dashed amidships,[6] pulled the cord of the steam-whistle, which shrieked out a warning blast to the escort, steaming around astern of the convoy.
A torpedo! he shouted to the man at the wheel. Hold at that, though. She’ll pass ahead of us.
Ahead of us!
When he uttered the words, it was with a feeling of thankfulness that the deadly tube, now racing towards them, would miss its mark. But the next moment he glanced over the starboard side, saw the great hull of the hospital ship, and realised the real intent of the enemy.
In such a crisis the mind works at lightning speed. The horrible nature of the impending tragedy flashed upon him.
The great liner was doomed, unless she acted instantly upon his warning. It would be impossible to rescue half the stricken men aboard her, helpless and broken in the war. In his mind’s eye he saw the boat, like some huge sea monster, making her last dive, carrying with her, to the depths, hundreds of the wounded men.
Could he avert the horror? The next instant he had seen the way.
Full steam ahead! he yelled down the engine-room tube, and then, snatching the wheel from the hands of the astonished seaman, he began his race with the silent terror that was breaking the surface of the water.
You’re mad, Rodman! shouted Tony’s voice in his ear. Full steam ahead! Why, you’re barging slap into the beastly thing.
That’s exactly what I mean to do, growled Jim, his eyes fixed on the advancing ripples.
But–man, you’re clean crazy! cried Tony, appalled at the words.
Maybe I am, was the grim response. But look at that, and he jerked his head towards the hospital ship. There are two thousand sick and wounded aboard her, and twenty of us. That infernal thing is going to sink one lot of the other. It’s them or us—and, please God, it’s going to be us.
Tony glanced at the ship, and then caught his breath.
You’re right, Roddy, he gasped. It’s we that are for it.
Then cut off and fetch ‘em all on deck, snapped Rodman. Another minute’ll see it through, and it’ll be a nasty jar when it comes.
The second mate hurried away, and Jim bent himself to the strangest task he had ever faced. He was racing death---not to escape it, but to meet it.
There was the chance that the liner might yet alter her course, and Jim, out of the tail of his eye, watched, expecting to see her swing round out of harm’s way.
Indeed, he was puzzled as to her reason for ‘disregarding’ his whistle, and assumed that the look-out had not yet marked the quarter from whence the danger was approaching.
Although, therefore, he still kept the Marlan full speed ahead, he was prepared to force her round the instant the big ship ceased to be a target.
His hopes, however, quickly vanished. The hospital ship held stolidly to her original line, and Rodman realised that everything depended on the pace of his own boat.
Already she had gathered speed. The throb of the engines, and the white feathers she threw aside as she nosed her way through the water, told him that; but could she travel fast enough to intercept those spurts of foam which marked the path of the torpedo?
In those few seconds Rodman, gripping the wheel, suffered agonies of despair, alternated with spasms of confident hope.
He was blind to everything around him but that shining instrument of destruction. He did not see the men scrambling up on deck, nor their scared faces as they watched the oncoming tube. Nor did he hear Tony’s trenchant remarks when some of them, having grasped the situation, ventured to utter a protest.
Mind, nerve, and muscle were strained to achieve that one object. It had resolved itself into a duel between himself and the messenger of fate; and, with set jaw and eyes narrowed to a pin’s point, he reckoned his chances.
The torpedo in its stealthy, snake-like fashion seemed to have increased its pace, while the Marlan, so thought Jim, had scarcely answered to his call.
He found himself, instinctively, thrusting at the wheel, urging her as though she were a horse. Under his breath he was muttering, Pile it on! Pile it on! Let her rip! Let her rip—or she’ll never do it, all the while measuring the decreasing distance between his boat and the object of his hate.
It half maddened him to feel that he was helpless; that he could do nothing but hold the Marlan to her course, and that, should he fail, all those precious lives would pay the penalty.
Again he measured his progress. Although he had crept past the bridge of the big ship, she could still be struck in a vital part. Nothing could save her, except the Marlan, which now seemed to move like a barge.
But she would do it. She must do it. Rodman marked the spot where the torpedo would cross his line, judged the distance, and knew it would be a near thing.
By this time he was oblivious of the danger to his own boat. The hospital ship was a helpless victim marked down for destruction, the Marlan her rescuer; and Jim drove his boat onward, like some St. George,[7] trying to destroy the Dragon, and without thought for his own safety.
In a few brief seconds fate would decide the issue.
So close was the torpedo that he could see the blades of the propeller whipping the water. It seemed to increase its pace as it approached, and a sick feeling of despair seized him.
Dimly he heard the excited voices of the crew. Then came silence, as each man held his breath in dread suspense.
It was now a question of yards. The snake-like terror, although this might have been his excited fancy, seemed to hesitate as though the Marlan had attracted it, and turn towards her. Then it crept out of sight under the bows. A wild yell came from somewhere beside him; the boat quivered slightly, and then came a rending, shattering explosion; a sheet of flame leapt above the rail, the wheel was torn from Rodman’s hands, and he found himself lying on his back half stunned, but filled with a strange sense of victory.
And as he staggered to his feet he heard Tony shouting, Great Scot! I’ve forgotten the ‘Old Man.'
Ten minutes later every member of the Marlan’s crew had been taken from the two boats, and had grouped themselves on the deck of a destroyer.
As the last man climbed over the side, the commander stepped briskly towards the captain of the Marlan, who was gazing moodily at the spot where his ship had sunk to her last home.
I’m told, sir, that you put your boat in front of the torpedo to save the hospital ship. Although what the ‘look-out’ was doing I can’t imagine, he added hotly. The fools were asleep, or the steering-gear jammed. I can think of no other reason.
I knew nothing about it, sir, until I found myself flat on my cabin floor, the Old Man drily answered. Mr. Rodman, my first mate, was in charge. He might tell you.
Is that so? asked the officer, turning to Jim, who had been trying to make himself invisible.
Well, sir, it—it seemed the only way out of it, stammered the first mate.
There was another way. And hundreds of lives would have been lost had you taken it. You did a fine thing, Mr, Rodman, and I’d be proud to shake hands with you.
A week later the first mate of the late s.s. Marlan was standing in the sitting-room of his dingy lodgings in Liverpool.
He held in his hand a letter from his wounded brother. It was written from a London hospital, and spoke of the patient’s voyage from Alexandria to England.
He came upon passage that filled him with amazement.
We have been told, since we came here, that a ‘tin fish’ tried to sink us in the Channel; and that, but for a little ship that shot full steam ahead, and took the torpedo in our place, a whole crowd would have gone to Davy Jones’s locker. Personally, I hadn’t a dog’s chance, with my crocked leg.[8] I should like to meet the chap who risked all that for us. He must be made of the right stuff.
A lump came into Jim’s throat.
And to think I was worrying over that rotten money, he said musingly.
Notes
- ↑ A rail around the bridge of a ship (OED).
- ↑ The action of talking or engaging in a parley: debate; discussion; an instance of this (OED).
- ↑ A ship of huge size (OED).
- ↑ "The front part of a ship" (Definition of fo’castle, Wikianswers, Web, 2009).
- ↑ Drawn off, withdrawn, removed; separate, apart from (OED).
- ↑ In the middle of a ship; rarely, to or towards the middle of the ship (OED).
- ↑ "Early Christian martyr who during the Middle Ages became an ideal of martial valour and selflessness" ("Saint George," Encyclopædia Britannica Online, Encyclopædia Britannica, 2009, Web, Mar. 2009).
- ↑ Hurt, damaged, disabled (OED).
Edited by: Aagard, Amanda: section 1, Winter 2009
