Aug 18, 1510 hours. Fisheries Protection Launch
Kingfisher, Fitzhugh Sound.
ESQUIMALT HMCD TO FISHERIES LAUNCH KINGFISHER REPORT TO BELLA BELLA RENDEVOUS WITH HMCS RAINBOW TO RECEIVE ARMAMENT AND CREW FOR WARTIME PATROL STOP RAINBOW EXPECTED 0800 AUG 19 STOP
So had read the telegraph message they had received at the Department of Marine Station Bella Coola at 1015 that morning. Fisheries Officer Rowland Mees had readied the launch with his crewmate Harold Aslett. Bella Coola was connected via telegraph overland to William’s Lake, and from there ultimately to the rest of the modern world. If they were out on patrol, as they often were in this season, the
Kingfisher was without a wireless and thus incommunicado. Mees thought it fortunate that the
Kingfisher happened to be tied up in town when the telegraph message arrived.
Mees thought it unfortunate that he was stuck with his partner. Aslet was an Orangeman, and a hater of Germans, and frantically eager to volunteer for the army and go fight the Hun in France. Aslet had been so eager to enlist that he had just threatened to desert, and leave Mees by himself, which would have hamstrung their fisheries patrols on their tiny station until a replacement was found. At least it would have been quieter.
Now that they had been offered an actual military role, Aslet was almost beside himself to get into the action. All the way down Burke Channel, Aslet had been delivering a monologue at great length on how many Germans he was going to kill and how, and the depravity of all German civilization. “A machinegun Rowley!” Aslet said, his eyes atwinkle. “They’re gonna give us a machinegun! Isn’t that keen!” Mees had come to the conclusion that his partner was mentally unbalanced, and the last thing any responsible person should do was put a weapon in his hands.
The only thing for Mees to do was stick his head up above the windshield, so that the wind drowned out Aslet’s endless monologue. He had mastered the art of saying “Uh-huh,” at the correct interval to appear to be listening, which seemed to appease his partner. The
Kingfisher had made the presence of the Fisheries Protection service felt in its patrol area over the last few years, and the locals had become observant of the regulations. The boats they passed seemed not to be committing any flagrant violations. But they had no time to stop now.
The unbroken forested mountains on both sides of the channel passed slowly. The launch was fighting the incoming tide. Her gasoline engine gave her a top speed of ten knots, so she definitely felt the advantage or penalty of the tidal current in these long ocean inlets. Today there was a stiff breeze, but not enough to throw spray, so they had the canvas top down. The folding top was a constant irritation with the launch. When they really needed it, the canvas did no good keeping the weather out. The Fisheries Protection Service had promised a wooden cabin, when time and budget allowed. For now they would have to make do.
Around 1330 hours, as they were rounding Haaksvold Point and entering the last reach before Fitzhugh Sound, what sounded like a distant explosion had echoed off the mountains.
“What was that!” asked Aslet, suddenly serious. Both men listened, but the sound did not repeat itself.
An hour later the
Kingfisher rounded Walker Point and turned north into Fitzhugh Sound. Eight nautical miles up the Channel, just visible in the bright afternoon light was the white cube of Pointer Island Lighthouse, marking the channel to Bella Bella. Just passing by the lighthouse were two ships, coming down the channel side by side. Both were trailing impressive clouds of black smoke. In 10 minutes the distance to the approaching ships had halved.
“I’ll say those ships are moving smartly,” said Aslet. “Twenty knots I’ll warrant.” He picked up a pair of binoculars. “The one to port looks like a CPR Princess, either the
Victoria or the
Charlotte. But what is that to starboard.” The ships continued to close. “She’s a warship alright. Doesn’t that make you proud, Rowley? She’s not the Rainbow though, is she? She has two guns forward.” Aslet paused, and frowned. “And the Rainbow isn’t due until tomorrow.” Mees maneuvered the Kingfisher to the east, to clear the channel. The ships were now close enough that Aslet had to raise his binoculars to look at the warship’s bow.
“You know Rowley, that doesn’t look like any British warship I know.”
“Maybe they built some new ones?” said Mees. He had seen the
Rainbow several times, when the cruiser was on fisheries protection patrol, but he was not a navy buff.
Aslet was fixated on the scrollwork on the warship’s bow. Now the ships were only 200 yards away. The figurehead was all painted grey, so detail only stood out in relief. “That… That… That is a German Imperial Eagle! That is a German ship!”
Mees heard a click, and turned to see Aslet had pulled the Magazine Enfield out from the berth under the foredeck. He was chambering a round.
“What the hell are you doing?” yelled Mees.
“I’m going to get me a German!” Aslet raised the rifle to his eye.
Mees let go of the wheel and grabbed at the rifle barrel. “You’ll get us killed, you lunatic!” The two men fell over, and Aslet furiously fought to regain the rifle. He was surprisingly strong, but Mees was bigger, and on top.
“I knew you were a traitor!” shouted Aslet, his face getting red. “Dutch, German, you’re all the same!” They rolled around the bottom of the boat, wrestling.
“I have two kids, you idiot!” said Mees, through gritted teeth. “I want to see them again.”
A ship’s horn sounded a collision alarm, very loud and close.
Mees looked up.
The Kingfisher, with no one at the wheel, had wandered out into mid-channel. The cruiser’s bow loomed above them, then it passed them by to starboard. They were cast in shadow by the bow of the liner, to port. The
Kingfisher leaped over the combined bow waves. They she spun around in a maelstrom of waves and spray. To Mees, the launch seemed to be running the rapids in a narrow canyon, a canyon with metal walls. Faces looked down on them from both sides above. A wave washed over the side of the
Kingfisher, and she was swamped. The ships passed by, their screws thrashing the ocean a few yards away. The launch was still upright. Aslet was crouched down by the engine cover, up to his waist in seawater. His hair was plastered to his face. He still had a grip on the forestock of the rifle, Mees had the butt. Mees pulled the bolt and cycled the action, ejecting a cartridge. He did this repeatedly until the magazine was empty. The sterns of the two ships pulled away. The fantail of the cruiser had two embrasures through which casemated cannon barrels aimed at the
Kingfisher. Above on deck, countless more weapons were trained on them. The white ensign and the red ensign flew from the respective masts of the cruiser and the liner. The Fisheries officers read the ships’ names,
Nürnberg and
Princess Charlotte.
“They are not going to fire,” said Aslet, as if in a dream. “They would have to drop their ruse and raise their battle flags. I read it. It’s the rules of war.”
The Kingfisher’s engine had stalled. She was half full of water, but her gunwales were not awash.
“Help me bail,” said Mees, “or we will capsize.”
The two ships shrank into the distance, while Mees and Aslet tossed buckets of water overboard, in silence. After a while, a fish boat came and took them in tow.
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