Chapter 3 - Dogger Bank

The submarine restocked with essentials and fuel, Carruthers medication replenished and the dose readjusted, the submarine put to sea once again on the evening tide It slipped its moorings and sailed out into the Thames estuary with a new bow mascot at its head, an accessory not usually to be found on a submersible! However, no naval vessel has ever had a bow mascot shaped like Carruthers. He was sat at the very front of the bow on a deck chair with a mug of tea clutched in his hands and an excited look in his eye with an air of excitement about his general demeanour. Juliana seemed to have given up trying to get him to go below and joined him on the bow. They cut a striking silhouette against the evening sun as they headed out towards the dark and foreboding North Sea and the crew were getting impatient with their cargo as they were anxious to get the vessel below the surface. They started the process by lowering the sub in the water inch by inch until the sea was breaking over the bow and Carruthers was getting more than just a little damp. Eventually he was left with no option but to abandon his seat and get below deck as it was swept over the side, ironically this was the first debris over the side that was due to the actions of the crew! Caruthers and Juliana safely aboard, the hatch in the conning tower was closed as the sub finally disappeared below the surface. Satisfied that all was now well, and his vessel was safe and secure, Cap’n Hand retired to his bunk after a long day. Sitting in his bunk writing his log, which was considerably longer than was customary and sipping occasionally at his evening cocoa the Captain was beginning to relax. With a loud grinding sound that shook throughout the vessel everything ground to a halt sending people and equipment flying. The Captain’s cocoa was no exception as the contents of his mug left another suspicious looking stain over the top of his bedding! Struggling to find his trousers amid all the debris that once adorned the shelves of his cabin, Cap’n Hand made his way through the noise and confusion to the bridge to find out what on earth had happened. The first mate was on the bridge already when he arrived and the helmsman who was a pimply youth was stood in the corner with a tear in his eye and quietly wetting himself as he awaited the inevitable shouting and finger pointing that would surely have been coming his way. A quick check had confirmed that Carruthers and Juliana were most definitely in their cabin and were unlikely to have had anything to do with this particular incident. The charts and readings were putting the sub in deep water and with plenty of it below them. However everything else was telling them that the sub was partly buried in a large sand bank! Carruthers was the model of surprise and concern when informed of their current predicament. Cap’n Hand tried every trick that his years of experience had taught him to extricate his vessel from its position. After what seemed an age and much revving off engines and groaning of the structure of the sub, the Captain blew the tanks, much to Carruthers delight at the whooshing sound and bubbles emanating from outside and the sub slowly broke free and rose to the surface. A quick look outside revealed them to be nowhere near where they thought they were. Charts, instruments and the helmsman, who was by now sobbing profusely, more because no-one had yet pointed the finger of blame at him and he reasoned that it just gave the dressing down that was surely heading his way time to build the longer it was put off, were all saying they were in the middle of Black Deep, when everything else was pointing to the likelihood that the dark brooding shape above them could actually have been a pier. There was nothing to do, with the tide receding fast but to wait until morning high tide before trying to find a way off the sand bank. The helmsman was by now pleading to be given his bollocking and as the Captain was heading back to his cabin with a deep frown on his forehead, grumbling, the young helmsman was seen to be hanging from Cap’n Hands trouser hem whimpering “Please tell me off. Please!”

No-one slept much that night. The general assumption was that the whole affair had to be something to do with Carruthers, largely borne out by the sniggering that was emanating from Carruthers cabin all night long. The mystery was what did he do and how did he do it? The Captain emerged from his cabin at first light having not slept a wink that night. He was slightly troubled by the way that his crew were saluting him with the faintest crack of a smirk across their faces. Not really caring what amused them he shuffled onto the bridge where Carruthers was already sitting in his chair making infantile explosive raspberry noises intended to in some way mimic the sound of the tanks blowing. With a mouth full of tea he turned and saw Cap’n Hand walking towards him and let out a loud and explosive snigger and a spray of hot tea. Barking out an irritable order to remove the fool from his bridge his crew turned towards him and they too were trying to stifle a long series of loud giggles. This all did nothing to improve his temper as the crews giggles broke and turned into gales of laughter. He chose to ignore the childishness of his crew and carried on about his early morning chores on the bridge of his vessel. Whilst studying the radar to make some sense of his vessels predicament he happened to notice his own reflection in the screen. Across his forehead in ink, in perfect backwards writing, was the word “Turmoil”. Carruthers roars of laughter and much thigh slapping made Cap’n Hand’s frame of mind and he shuffled off and up the conning tower to see with the benefit of daylight where exactly they were.

Daylight had indeed arrived when he looked outside and a proper search of the horizon revealed a pier looking remarkably like the one off Southend directly above them. Carruthers general demeanour that morning as he skipped from deck to deck on board the sub aroused certain suspicions with many on board despite Nurse Juliana’s protests that he had been in bed with her all night that perhaps, just maybe, he may have had nothing to do with the position they now found themselves in. A more detailed examination of the surface world outside the sub revealed that it was indeed Southend Pier above them. Turning to the charts revealed that the sub was indeed in deep water but in daylight the chart numbers had been crudely altered with a crayon. There was only one person on board who would have been issued with crayons to prevent accidents or self harm and he was now skipping around the deck outside waving in a demented fashion to the disbelieving crowd gathering on the pier deck above. Cap’n Hand had seen and been the victim of enough! Carruthers, friend of the King or not, would not be traveling to Russia on board his sub! He abandoned Carruthers and Juliana on an inflatable life raft tied to the legs of Southend Pier as the sub, with the aid of a high spring tide, floated clear of the sand bank that had ensnared them during the night and disappeared out into the mouth of the Thames estuary and then sank below the waves in deeper water. Carruthers meanwhile was so traumatized by the rejection that he had once again assumed the fetal position with thumb in mouth in the bottom of the inflatable life raft.