With CMB4 out of action, Gus asked for a conference with Harold Hall and Peter Sokolov, who had both travelled with him from Helsinki. He needed to know if they were prepared to risk a run through the forts with just one boat. They both agreed that they could wait a few more days. If ST-25 was still alive, then a few days were unlikely to make a lot of difference. Gus would take Peter in, Peter would collect ST-25 and Gus would take them both out. As long as there would be enough time to do that, then Gus could repair the boat. Gus told Beeley that he could have four days to repair CMB4.
Beeley looked horrified.
To remove the engine of a CMB meant taking out most of the deck first and then disconnecting and lifting out a solid block of metal weighing over half a ton. It was no small job and was never attempted at Osea unless the boat was in dry dock. To do it without proper tools while the boat was still in the water was insanity. But, true to his reputation, ‘faithful’ Beeley did not complain. He simply left in a hurry to see what equipment he could scrounge from the other ships in the squadron. In the meantime there was at least some good news. The captain of the squadron oil-storage vessel Francol asked to see Gus. On the deck under some tarpaulins he had two torpedoes which Cowan had ordered him to collect from Reval. Gus only hoped that would get a chance to use them.
HMS Voyager would be sailing in and out of the Sound on various missions so the first thing Beeley needed was a secure berth. Gus was given permission to moor CMB4 alongside the Francol. The captain offered to give any help he could, but this was specialised work and in the cramped conditions of CMB4’s tiny hull it was really a one-man job. At the same time the engine of CMB7 was also giving trouble and since it was the only boat currently running it was vital that Piper sorted out the problem. Beeley would be on his own, although John Hampsheir would stand by and give whatever assistance he could. Beeley and Hampsheir spent the next few hours arranging shear legs on the deck of the Francol to help with the heavy lifting and then they set to work stripping the deck.
Meanwhile, Gus tried to make the best possible use of the time. He told Admiral Cowan of his plight and Cowan immediately dispatched the destroyer HMS Versatile to Helsinki to collect the spare engine and Pegler. As soon as CMB4’s engine was removed Pegler would be sent with it to Reval where there was a submarine depot ship, HMS Maidstone, which had the facilities to completely strip and repair it. Gus telegraphed Le May in Helsinki and asked him to have everything ready – and to send a large supply of soda water with the engine. The squadron was running short of it and it would help to make valuable friends among the senior officers.
Gus dispatched Peter to Terrioki on horseback through the dense Finnish pine forests to try and make contact with the local smugglers and finalise the deal for a pilot. Gus also asked Admiral Cowan for a supply of rum from the squadron’s stores with which to bribe the smugglers. Peter thought that the smugglers might want a lot of money, but to seal the deal it would help to have something extra: as in Bolshevik Russia, good-quality alcohol was prized in Finland at the moment and Royal Navy-issue rum would be like gold.
Beeley and Hampsheir worked straight on into the night. There was little that Gus could do but look on and offer encouragement as they toiled all the next day as well. It was not only the oncoming White Nights that gave them a sense of urgency. The weather was good at the moment, but if a storm hit Biorko Sound while CMB4’s deck was removed and her structure weakened it could cause irreparable damage. Removing a CMB engine at Osea was a three-day job in a well-equipped workshop. Beeley and Hampsheir did it in two. And just as the old engine was being winched onto the deck of the Francol on the evening of Tuesday, 10 June, HMS Versatile was sighted entering the Sound. She signalled that she had the spare engine on board.
Beeley was already worried about this engine. It was the only complete spare engine he had been able to find at Osea and he had hoped that they would never have to use it. Usually, all new engines were run on a test bench before being fitted. This was to ensure that they were tuned and running properly as once they were in the boat it was the devil’s own job to make adjustments without taking the whole engine out again. This engine had never been tested before, let alone tuned for best performance and Beeley would not vouch for it, especially when compared with the engine he was removing, the one which he had cherished so carefully until it had been soaked in several dozen gallons of sea water. Beeley and Hampsheir were doing their best and there was still a chance that CMB4 might be ready in time but, as Pegler set off for Reval with the old engine, Gus’s worries were far from over.
That night Gus was woken aboard HMS Voyager by a message that Russian ships had been sighted venturing out of Kronstadt. The squadron had been expecting a raid now that they had moved up to their summer quarters at Biorko and Cowan had carefully placed three destroyers on watch. This looked like the first serious attack.
Quickly rousing the crew of CMB7, which was tied up alongside HMS Voyager, Gus obtained permission from the Admiral to intercept. Piper had been told to have CMB7 ready for immediate launch and soon they were racing away across the darkness of the Sound. The rest of Cowan’s squadron would follow as soon as possible, but it took much more time for these larger vessels to get steam up and manoeuvre into position. In the distance, among the lights of the various naval vessels, they could see the superstructure of the Francol and beneath that the working lights Beeley had rigged up in CMB4. He was working through much of the night again.
As CMB7 skimmed across the Sound, it probably occurred to Gus that what he was doing was rather against the spirit of his orders. He was supposed to be on a secret-service mission for Cumming, but here he was risking himself and his one serviceable boat in an attack on an unknown number of more powerful Russian vessels. The chances were that he would be blown out of the water – and even if he wasn’t there would probably be the devil to pay when Hall and Le May found out. Still, there was no time to worry about that now – this was too good a chance for his young crew to miss. With Gus at the helm, Sindall and Marshall clung to the fairing around the cockpit as the boat leapt forward, their eyes straining as they scanned the darkness for the first sign of the enemy. Piper nervously tended the engine in the lower compartment as Gus opened the throttle full out.
Unfortunately, the news from the outlying destroyers had been slow in reaching the squadron and although CMB7 was by far the fastest of Cowan’s vessels to respond she only caught sight of the Russian ships in the far distance as they were returning to Kronstadt. The destroyers had been unable to engage as they could not risk entering the minefields. Only CMB7 could have reached the Russians. The move had probably been a feint, something which the Russians did periodically to test the British squadron’s response times. The squadron intelligence officer believed that the Bolsheviks had already installed spies in the hills overlooking Biorko Sound to relay news of all the squadron’s manoeuvres to Kronstadt. The Soviet vessels were now well behind the line of defensive forts and it would have been madness for Gus to pursue them. Disappointed, he eased down the engines and turned CMB7 for home.
But the evening had one benefit. Admiral Cowan had watched from the bridge of the flagship as CMB7 had set out across the Sound. He had been impressed by the speed with which the crew had responded and as soon as Gus returned he summoned him to the flagship to congratulate him. When Gus explained how the CMB could have skimmed across the Russian minefields if only the targets had not been on the wrong side of the forts, Cowan became even more interested. The arrival of a new weapon which could ignore the defensive minefields raised intriguing possibilities. If Gus did anything to prove the worth of the CMBs against the Soviet fleet then he could be sure of Cowan’s support.
Meanwhile, as soon as the new engine had been unloaded from HMS Versatile Beeley set to work, with Piper stripping it down and preparing it for installation in CMB4. Mechanics from the Francol helped as much as they could. The overhaul was normally a two-day job in the relaxed atmosphere of the Osea workshops, but by noon the next day the engine was being lowered into the correct position in CMB4’s hull. The mechanics had completed the task in just eighteen hours. Gus offered the captain and mechanics of the Francol some of Cumming’s thousand guineas in recognition of their assistance, but they refused.
Now it was down to Beeley once more, crawling around in the tight confines of the little hull where every task seemed to be a three-handed job in a two-handed space. After three days’ work with almost no sleep Beeley was practically spent. Hampsheir was hardly any better as he had matched Beeley every hour, on hand to pass tools and fetch missing parts. It was this extreme fatigue which almost certainly caused an incident that was to have terrible consequences later in the mission:
It was the afternoon of Wednesday, 11 June. There were just seven days to the onset of the White Nights and Beeley and Hampsheir were still working flat out. They were lucky that the weather had remained fine all week as there was no way they could have even attempted the job if it had been otherwise. Beeley was hammering away at a recalcitrant pipe somewhere in the depths of the engine and he called for Hampsheir’s help.
There was no answer.
Gus always said that Beeley was never one to curse but he was so tired now that even his seemingly limitless patience was strained. Eventually he simply sighed and clambered out into the sunshine. He looked around. There was no sign of Hampsheir anywhere. Beeley clambered up onto the side of the boat and glanced at the scramble net running up the sheer metal sides of the Francol, wondering if Hampsheir had gone to fetch something. It was as he was standing there, with the hull of CMB4 gently rising and falling in the swell, that he noticed the bubbles coming to the surface of the water and in one terrible moment he realised what must have happened.
Shouting for help he threw himself into the water between the two vessels, aiming for the place where the bubbles were breaking the surface. In the dark and icy waters of the Sound he could see and feel nothing and he was soon forced to come back up for air, only to find that the swell had pushed CMB4 tight up against the Francol and that he too was now trapped. At that moment, something struck his foot and he reached down instinctively. His hand closed on the collar of Hampsheir’s boiler suit. Beeley tried to kick for the far end of the boat, but with the dead weight of Hampsheir in his hands he was hardly moving through the water at all. Then, just as suddenly as the gap above him had closed, there was a sudden shaft of sunlight as it opened again and Beeley burst into the open air to find dozens of hands of the Francol’s crew pushing CMB4 away from the oiler. Several men, including Sindall and Piper, leapt into the water to help Beeley support Hampsheir, while others reached down to haul them both out. Hampsheir was gently lowered into the bottom of CMB4 and one of the crewmen from the Francol began applying life-saving techniques to try and empty his lungs. After coughing up several mouthfuls of sea water Hampsheir revived, but was very weak.
Beeley and Hampsheir were immediately sent aboard HMS Voyager for dry clothes and a medical check. But, despite doctor’s orders, Beeley was back at work within half an hour, determined not to throw away all the time that he had saved the team so far.
John Hampsheir was a different story. He had only been in the water for a few minutes and the effects of the ‘bad dunking’ (as Gus described it) were soon over. But HMS Voyager’s medical officer was worried. Hampsheir was still shivering and appeared to be disorientated. There was no sign that he had struck his head when he had fallen into the water. It seemed more like shell-shock or a nervous attack.
What no one knew was that Hampsheir, always highly strung, had suffered a terrible shock just six months earlier. William, his beloved older brother and a Company Quartermaster Sergeant in the Royal Engineers, had worked for a specialist Engineers outfit, the Inland Water Transport Unit. They were responsible for the enormous network of canals that supplied the British front line. William had survived the entire war only to die on 24 November 1918, just thirteen days after the Armistice. He was only 28 years old. The two brothers had been very close and the news had come as a terrible shock to John. To have lost his brother just when it had seemed to be all over was agonising. And now it seemed that it would be the same with him. His war service was complete and he had expected to be demobbed within a few weeks, but then Gus had asked him to come along on this top-secret mission and he had felt that he could not refuse. Now he knew what was involved, it seemed like a suicide mission. He was convinced that neither he nor his brother were destined to make it home. All Gus knew was that John Hampsheir was too badly shaken to be of much use at present. Gus pulled him off the repair duties and insisted that he rest for a few days. Richard Marshall and Bert Piper took over.
Meanwhile, although Beeley was doing his best to meet Gus’s deadline, matters were taken out of everyone’s hands. Just before nine o’clock on the evening of Thursday, 12 June, Hall received an urgent telegram from someone called Broadbent, an MI6 officer who had been sent to Terrioki to prepare for the CMBs’ arrival. The telegram didn’t say what the problem was, only that there was an emergency and that one of the CMBs must be sent ‘at all costs’. There was nothing for it. Gus told Beeley to leave the remaining repair work to Piper and then, having gathered Sindall, Marshall, Peter Sokolov and Hall, he set off immediately in CMB7. It was a sign of how far operational secrecy had broken down that word quickly spread around the squadron that one of the CMBs was leaving to ‘give it to the Bolshies’. For the men of the squadron these little boats were important. Like Hampsheir many of them were ‘hostilities-only’ conscripts and they had expected to go home long before this point. Now they were facing an enemy who rarely ventured out beyond his defensive screen of minefields and they faced the prospect of being stuck there for months. The only vessel which could penetrate those minefields was a CMB. They knew nothing of ST-25 and naturally thought that the CMBs had come to the Baltic to attack the Russians. The sooner the CMBs did their job, the sooner everyone could all go home. The crews of the entire squadron gathered on deck to give three cheers as the little boat raced away across the Sound.
It was only about thirty miles to Terrioki and CMB7 could have covered the distance in less than an hour at full speed. But Gus did not want to risk CMB7’s engine figuring that it was better to arrive at a steady pace than not at all. He also stayed well out to sea as he did not wish to be fired on from the shore by Finnish troops who might mistake his CMB for a smuggler’s craft. He calculated that this added another twenty miles to the journey. It was difficult to navigate along the strange coastline in the dark. There were no villages, lights or other features along the thickly forested shore which might provide a landmark. Since Terrioki was a tiny unmarked inlet only three miles from the Russian border there was a serious danger of overrunning their destination and ending up in enemy waters. But Hall had wired a message to Broadbent to let him know that they were on their way and asking him to go down to the water’s edge and signal with a torch every five minutes between midnight and 3 a.m.
They arrived off the mouth of tiny Terrioki harbour not long after 2 a.m. Gus eased the engines back. They coasted slowly towards Broadbent’s flashing signal. Marshall was manning the twin Lewis guns. He flicked off the safety catch as they drew closer and nervously scanned the stone breakwater ahead. They had no idea what sort of emergency they were facing, but he was well aware that the Russian border was not far away.
Negotiating the mouth of a new harbour in shallow waters is always a tricky proposition, particularly in a forty-foot CMB where the helmsman has no view of the waterline at the bows (rather like trying to see over the bonnet of a particularly long car). Normally Gus would have asked Sindall to stand at the bows and give directions to make sure they didn’t ground on a shoal or bank, but for some reason Hall claimed that he knew these waters and ran forward. He gave directions which Gus carefully followed. It was just as well they were travelling dead slow because although they didn’t ground on any obstruction Hall ran them straight into the harbour wall.
CMBs had no reverse gear. Swallowing his anger with Hall, Gus put the helm hard over as Sindall and Beeley pushed them away from the wall by using boat-hooks. There was a nasty grinding sound and CMB7 lost some of her grey paint, but fortunately there was no serious damage done. Even so, this was not the way that any ambitious young captain of the Royal Navy wants to arrive in a new harbour and relations between Gus and Hall, already tense, became a little bit worse.
Gus now cut the engine completely and, using their boat-hooks as punt poles, they eased their way silently into the harbour, watching the shore for the first sign of trouble. The harbour was barely fifty metres wide, just about enough room to moor a dozen yachts. The waterfront was dominated by a long white two-storey building which was the old yacht club. The ghostly outlines of numerous chalets could be seen stretching away over the rising ground into the Finnish pine forests and silhouetted against the starlit sky were the towers of a Russian Orthodox church, which stood on a hill overlooking the harbour. The only other vessel present was one old fishing boat still moored in the centre of the harbour. Gus directed CMB7 towards this and then tied up alongside it.
There was the sound of people moving about in the darkness near the yacht club and then CMB7 was hailed from the shore. For one moment the crew feared that it was the local Finnish sentries challenging them. Marshall cocked the Lewis guns in case someone opened fire on the boat – after all, they had been warned there was an emergency of some sort here – but then they were hailed again, this time in English. It was Broadbent. He had Finnish sentries with him and told the crew where they should moor the small rowing boat they had brought with them. Clearly the guards didn’t speak any English because when Hall told Broadbent that they had ‘a certain person’ with them, Broadbent understood that this meant Peter and called that it was best to leave him on the boat as the sentries tended to treat any Russian who arrived as a possible Bolshevik spy. They would place him under arrest and take him to the commandant at the nearby fort.
The crew unlashed their small rowing skiff and, leaving Marshall to keep Peter company, they rowed to shore. The sentries were naturally very suspicious of this arrival in the middle of the night, but Broadbent assured them that, despite their civilian dress, these were naval officers who were assisting British and Finnish naval forces based at Biorko Sound. Hall produced an official document which the British Consul Bell had obtained from the Finnish government: it asked local forces to render them every assistance. The guards were still curious and wanted to search the strange-looking boat, but a gift of English cigarettes and a bottle of Royal Navy rum convinced them that there was no need to ask any more questions that night. However, they insisted that Gus and Hall had to appear before the commandant first thing in the morning.
Once the guards were out of the way, Beeley fetched Marshall and Peter from the boat and Broadbent then took the party deep into the woods to a villa where he was staying. As they walked through the trees Gus demanded to know what the mysterious emergency was. Whatever it was has not been recorded in any of the remaining documents, but it was so trivial that Gus was disgusted. He noted in his diary that night: ‘Broadbent met us and we all went up to his house. There I was rather annoyed to find out that the matter was really not important and he need not have sent the wire … No good crying about it.’ Gus wondered whether it had all been a ruse by MI6 to get one of the CMBs to Terrioki faster. If so, why hadn’t they just asked? It certainly did not improve his faith in them. Still, Broadbent had asked the old woman who looked after the villa to have a hot meal ready and Gus decided that he might as well make the best of it: he would take Peter into Petrograd the next night. There were only one or two days until the White Nights would make the passage through the forts too dangerous in any case. The crew grabbed a few hours’ sleep on the floor of the villa, knowing that tomorrow would be their first real test.
The next morning, Friday, 13 June, Gus and Broadbent were due to see the Finnish commandant. But before that meeting had even happened there was trouble. Marshall and Beeley had been sent down to the harbour to check on the boat and they had only been gone about twenty minutes when Beeley came running back to the villa. Whilst Beeley was on CMB7, Marshall had been on shore checking out the yacht club to see if they could store any of their gear there. As he was scouting around, he was challenged by some of the Finnish sentries. The guard had obviously changed since the previous night and the new shift was in no mood for argument. Marshall clearly wasn’t Russian, but he was in civilian dress and didn’t speak any Finnish either so, despite his loud protestations that he was a British naval officer, he was immediately placed under arrest and marched at bayonet point along the main street of the village to the fort. Beeley had hid out on the boat until the sentries and their prisoner were gone and had then run for help.
That was enough for Gus. Together with Sindall and Beeley he marched straight down to the boat and collected their uniforms and side arms. He also told Sindall to raise the white ensign at the rear of CMB7. The ‘uniforms’ they had brought with them didn’t amount to much – sea jackets and a uniform cap – but they would have to do. Cumming might have insisted that they must only be used in an emergency, but as far as Gus was concerned that emergency was now.
He left Sindall and Beeley with the boat and then together with Broadbent marched off to the nearby fort. At the gate Gus identified himself as a British naval officer and demanded to see the commandant immediately.
Commandant Sarin was a former Russian army officer and as such he was in a difficult position by being in command of a Finnish frontier post. He had to show that he had no pro-Bolshevik sympathies and that this section of the border was safe in his hands. He had already received the report from his sentries about the arrival of this strange group of men in civilian clothes in the middle of the night and could see for himself from his view of the harbour that CMB7 was no ordinary patrol vessel. So when Gus and Broadbent told him that this was an operation sanctioned by the Finnish government and showed him their papers he was far from convinced. On the other hand, he knew that Finnish naval forces were now stationed with the Royal Navy at the new base just up the coast at Biorko so there might be some truth in it. But, he asked, why all this skulking around?
Gus knew that he did not have a chance with the cover story of their being motor-yacht salesmen which Cumming had dreamed up and which he later described as ‘a cock and bull yarn’. He decided that the only hope was to tell the truth or at least a very substantial part of it. He told Sarin that he and his team were intelligence officers working for the British admiral at Biorko. Now that the British squadron was so close to Kronstadt it was obviously important for the exits through the minefields to be watched in case the Russians attacked. That was why they had come to Terrioki.
‘You will appreciate, Commandant, that the essence of such work is secrecy and that therefore the fewer people who know about us the better chances we have of success.’
Gus sat back thinking that he had successfully dealt with two problems at once – explaining why they had arrived secretly and why the commandant should keep silent about their presence.
But Commandant Sarin was not stupid. He said that he would have to refer to his superior officers at Fort Ino and also to the Finnish naval ministry at Helsinki. In the meantime he had to insist that Gus and his crew should confine themselves to the harbour. If they tried to leave they would be arrested upon their return and their boat would be impounded.
Gus could not afford this. He had to leave with Peter that evening, but if he was seen it could cause a row that would stop him using the harbour ever again. However, he had one more card in his hand which he now played: Broadbent, who spoke fluent Finnish, was well aware of the local politics in the area and knew that although the local commandant was answerable to the commandant at Fort Ino further along the coast the two men were rivals. Gus pointed out that if Commandant Sarin allowed him to operate while he was making checks with Helsinki, then Sarin, as the nearest responsible military officer, would be the first person to receive all the intelligence which was gathered. This would make him look good with his superior officers and would certainly be better than any intelligence that Fort Ino could produce.
Sarin was tempted … but was still not convinced. He insisted that it was still his duty to consult with Helsinki. He would give his reply as soon as possible. In the meantime, he agreed to release Marshall and instruct his sentries that the crew were not to be molested. But he remained firm in his insistence that CMB7 must not leave the harbour.
This was agonising, but the British team clearly were not going to get anything more from him. As they left, Gus told Broadbent to get a message to Helsinki as quickly as possible to ensure that Bell and Le May secured the necessary permissions from the Finnish government before Sarin’s enquiry arrived. As for the ban on CMB7 sailing, they would just have to ignore it and hope for the best.
But as events transpired they did not need to ignore Sarin’s instructions. That afternoon the commandant sent for Gus again. Broadbent was away organising a telegram for Helsinki via the British consulate at Viborg. Since Hall didn’t speak any Finnish there was no point in taking him so Gus went alone. Sarin seemed in a much more approachable mood. His wife was present because she spoke a little English and she acted as interpreter between the two men. In contrast to the frostiness of the morning’s meeting Gus was even offered a cup of tea.
It seemed that Sarin had received new intelligence. The garrison of Krasnaya Gorka, the Russian fortress on the other side of the Gulf and a key part in the Kronstadt defensive system, had risen in revolt against the Bolshevik government and had raised the White flag. Apparently the garrison had expected the fortress of Kronstadt to join in the rebellion, but they had not and Krasnaya Gorka was now isolated and in a state of siege. The Bolsheviks had to take the fortress back as soon as possible because it controlled the southern approaches to Kronstadt. The fortress was almost impregnable by land, but there were rumours that the Russian navy was going to sail from Kronstadt and position its battlecruisers just to the east of the fortress. Since the main guns of the fortress were fixed and aimed north and west (the direction of any likely assault by a foreign attacker) the garrison would be unable to fire on them. The Bolshevik battlecruisers would be able to pound Krasnaya Gorka into rubble at will. However, it was possible that the garrison of Kronstadt might yet join the revolt. In that case the battlecruisers would move into position behind Kronstadt instead.
Sarin had been ordered to watch for any movement by the battlecruisers and note what it was. Could, he wondered, Gus and his boat undertake a small reconnaissance expedition to see if these vessels had sailed from Kronstadt harbour?
Gus must have almost choked on his tea at this point, but he managed to say he just might be able to take a small excursion that evening. Sarin was immensely grateful and his whole attitude to the presence of the British CMBs in his territory changed from that moment. Gus headed back to the harbour astonished at his good fortune.
That evening the team prepared to take Peter through the forts. Gus watched as Peter prepared for the mission. He was wearing his old army uniform, stripped of its former insignia. In his pockets he carried Red stars which he would affix to the cap and jacket once he landed ashore. He also carried a leather satchel. There was nothing unusual in this since at this time most people in Russia carried similar bags in case they found anything worth buying (or stealing). In the satchel Peter had various packets, including one containing sandwiches. Hidden in the sandwiches were slips of tissue paper with the latest messages for ST-25 on them. Peter also carried a revolver. He did not intend to be captured alive.
At the briefing before they set out Gus emphasised to Peter that he had to stress to ST-25 that this could be his last chance to get out. The White Nights would mean that Gus could make one more trip through the forts and after that he wouldn’t be able to return until the end of July. With that message confirmed they headed for the boats. Gus gave one last letter for Dor to Sindall for safe keeping in case he didn’t return.
It was still going to be necessary to keep his presence concealed from the Finnish sentries who would surely be watching – Sarin still hadn’t been told about that part of the mission. So Peter was dressed up in Beeley’s boiler suit in order to make the short journey through the woods from the villa to the boat. Peter had proved as good as his word and provided a local fisherman and smuggler called Veroline to guide Gus to the place where he believed there was a passage through the breakwater. Peter indicated that the two of them had done some smuggling together during the previous winter. Veroline looked a real ruffian with his dishevelled clothes and unkempt beard. He spoke only a few words of English and Gus didn’t trust him one bit, but when Gus told Peter he merely laughed as if to say: ‘Well, what did you expect?’ Veroline himself was quite relaxed about the journey and said that the smugglers used the route all the time. But he did not work cheap. Gus had to pay 3,000 Finnish marks (about £75 in 1919) with 1,000 marks of the sum in advance. At that rate the remains of Cumming’s thousand guineas would not last long. As Peter had predicted Gus also had to hand over two bottles from his dwindling supplies of Royal Navy rum.
At 10.30 p.m., just as the twilight was darkening, CMB7 chugged slowly out through the harbour mouth and into the open waters of the Gulf. The small boat contained just Gus, Beeley, Peter and Veroline. Sindall and Marshall were left behind on the jetty with Hall. Gus had no idea what their chances were of making it through the forts in one piece, but he did not want to risk more lives than he had to. He decided to dispense with someone to man the Lewis guns because if they were fired upon they would be either blown out of the water with the first shot or running for their lives – he did not plan to stand and fight. If they did not return it would be Sindall’s job to fetch CMB4 together with Piper and Hampsheir from Biorko and make a second attempt. But Gus ordered him only to drop an agent on the Estonian coast – not to try and penetrate the line of forts again. In the torpedo trough of the boat, they carried a ‘pram’, a light rowing skiff which Peter would use to row to shore and then conceal in the reed banks until his return.
The line of forts was only about twelve miles from Terrioki, but Gus took a wide curving route which would bring him in towards the gap between two of them where the smuggler was sure the breakwater was not complete. If he was wrong this was going to be a really short trip. CMB7 travelled at a steady speed of about twenty knots, not her top speed but enough to lift most of her hull from the water. They skimmed over the defensive minefield without incident, although even in a CMB it was still a nerve-racking time and Gus was immensely grateful for the charts which had been provided by ST-25 so that he knew when they were clear. They settled down for the approach to the forts which in the half-dark at this distance appeared like a line of large fishing weights stretched along the horizon. The forts varied greatly in size. Some were considerable stone structures complete with a full garrison and eight-inch naval guns. Others were little more than platforms for a few searchlights and machine guns.
Gus had given a lot of thought to how to tackle this part of the journey. It seemed strange to think they had travelled over 2,000 miles to get here and that now the entire mission could be decided in just a few hundred yards. But should he burst through at high speed, trusting to the smuggler’s judgement, or should he creep through, hoping to slip past unnoticed? High speed was the CMBs’ usual method of dealing with a problem – they would be a harder target to hit and they would draw less water so they would be less likely to ground on the breakwater. On the other hand the tremendous noise of the engine would alert the forts from miles away. If they crept through there was only a small chance of alerting the forts as the CMB was very low to the waterline and very hard to see in the dark, But, and it was a big but, if the guards were alert and spotted them they would be blown out of the water with the first shot.
After a lot of thought Gus had decided to creep through. They would be in the killing zone for longer and it would be a real test of their nerves, but from his long naval experience Gus knew how dull sentry duty could be. The Bolsheviks weren’t expecting them and he did not believe they would spot him.
So as the forts loomed out of the darkness, Gus throttled right back and called for complete silence in the boat. Peter grabbed the Lewis guns and released the safety catch – not that the machine guns would be much help, but anything was worth a try. Beeley stood ready in the engine compartment with a carpenter’s mallet. At the first sign of trouble, Gus would let the throttle right out to full speed and the clutch plates had a habit of sticking under sudden strain. A quick smash with the mallet was the only way Beeley could force them into place – although that probably was not a technique Rolls-Royce had approved.
There were no searchlights active and the forts were in complete darkness which was a promising sign. Gus kept a close eye on Veroline who was crouched on the prow signalling whether to ease the boat left or right. As they came within the range of the fort’s guns, Gus’s last thoughts were of ST-25, the man they had come all this way to save: ‘… a man whom I did not know except by a cryptic cipher letter, yet I knew must be incredibly brave and courageous. Where was he at this moment? What was he doing? Who was he?’
The forts drew nearer and there was still no sign of movement. They were about five hundred metres apart and Gus aimed straight for the middle of the gap to give his boat the maximum chance. CMB7’s engine was just ticking over, their speed little more than a steady drift. No one spoke. As they passed they were able to see the barrels of the forts’ guns quite clearly. It felt as if the guns were being aimed right at them. Was the garrison alert? Were they watching right now and just waiting for CMB7 to drift into line before opening fire? The crew waited for the first explosion.
It never came.
Veroline stood up and raised his hand in a thumbs-up gesture to indicate that they were clear of the line of the breakwater, but still Gus kept their speed steady. The smuggler walked carefully across the deck and climbed back into the cockpit. Very, very slowly the forts slipped behind them and the few shimmering lights of Petrograd became visible in the far distance. To their right the immense silhouette of the Kronstadt fortress loomed.
Finally Gus decided that they were safe enough:
‘Okay, Beeley, let her go!’ he shouted.
The engine immediately roared, the bows rose and the stern sank as CMB7 rapidly increased speed. Soon the roar of the engine was deafening and the great wings of white water rose high on either side. They were flying again. Everyone in the boat, including the villainous-looking Veroline, grinned their relief to the others and they settled down to enjoy the ride.
It took less than half an hour to cover the remaining distance and they never saw another vessel. As the coast of Russia drew closer, Gus turned north and eased off the speed. Peter made the last-minute checks of his equipment and pinned the Red Army badges to his uniform jacket. Gus came to a dead stop about five hundred metres from the shore. He was close enough to see barges tied up at the northern mouth of the Neva river on which Petrograd was situated. Beeley clambered forward and unlashed the pram, lowering it gently over the side into the water. Peter and Gus clambered after him and Beeley held the pram steady while Gus helped Peter to climb down.
Peter sat in the boat and grasped the paddle.
‘Until the night after tomorrow,’ said Gus.
‘Dosvidanya,’ whispered Peter, smiling. He paddled away into the darkness.
Beeley and Gus watched him go. They found it hard to believe that they would see him again. After all, he was six feet four inches tall: he towered over the rest of the team and with his mop of blond hair they thought he must surely stand out just as much in Petrograd. He was certainly a brave man.
There was little to do now but wait for the signal by torch from the shore to show that he had arrived safely. As they waited Gus took compass bearings on a church steeple and a factory chimney as it would be vital that he should return to exactly this spot. Beeley busied himself by quietly attaching the compressor pump to the engine, which was the only way to restart it.
They did not have long to wait. Within a few minutes Peter’s signal flashed from the shore. Gus replied and then gave the order for Beeley to start the engine. Soon they were racing away at full speed again. There was not much more of full darkness left and Gus still wanted to get a look at Krasnaya Gorka before dawn broke. But as they approached the forts for the second time Gus eased off the speed again. They had one trick up their sleeve for approaching the forts from this direction and he was determined to give it a try. Peter had presented them with an ensign which he claimed was flown by the boats of Bolshevik Commissars. The forts would be unlikely to fire on one of their own coming from the Russian side of the lines. Of course it would have been a different matter if they had tried the ruse on the way in.
But to be convincing, Gus would have to travel at the speed of a conventional motor boat so he reduced speed to about ten knots and watched the forts grow larger in the darkness once more. The one thing that bothered him was that they did not know any of the Bolshevik recognition signals. Still, he thought it was worth the risk.
Once again there was no sign of life from either of the forts as they eased through the gap. Gus wondered if they were actually manned at all. Once more he opened the throttle wide and headed south for Tolboukin lighthouse which marked the western end of Kotlin island. From there they should have an excellent view of the waters at the rear of Krasnaya Gorka.
Sure enough, as dawn rose they could see the massive shapes of the two great Soviet battlecruisers, the Petropavlovsk and the Andrei Pervozvanni, situated just to the east of Krasnaya Gorka. Both warships were armed with massive 12-inch guns that had a range of over ten miles. There would be nothing the garrison could do except wait for the end. Gus could see the White banner still flying defiantly from the battlements and he said later that it seemed to him to be a call for help as much as a symbol of allegiance. He was galled to see the two battleships just sitting there waiting to begin their attack, knowing that no one could stop them. They were beyond the protection of the southern forts, but they were still behind the minefields and they had a defensive screen of destroyers and patrol boats. There was nothing that Admiral Cowan could do.
Unless …
It was madness, but Gus was sitting there with a perfectly good torpedo behind him, the rising sun to screen his approach and one of the fastest boats in the world beneath his feet. Why not?
Remembering his promise to Admiral Cowan, he told Beeley to get his uniform jacket on and to prepare the torpedo for firing. Beeley looked shocked, but began work priming the charge for the ramming mechanism. Veroline didn’t speak much English, but as Beeley passed out Gus’s uniform jacket and cap, he quickly guessed what Gus was thinking and grabbed his arm in protest. This was absolutely not what he had been recruited for. Gus angrily shrugged him off and gestured for him to sit down. Then Gus opened the throttle and sent CMB7 into a large circle to pick up speed for his attack run.
Gus was about two miles away from the screen of destroyers. There was no point trying to sneak around behind them – it was too light and he would be seen before he was halfway there. The only hope was to go in at full speed, fire the torpedo and then run for home, trusting to speed to save them. Gus hoped that surprise would give them the edge.
Beeley emerged and gave the signal that the charge was primed. The torpedo was launched by a lever in the cockpit: this fired a charge that operated the ram which shoved the torpedo along the central trough and over the rear of the boat. As CMB7 straightened out and picked up speed, Gus aimed for the silhouette which he knew was the Petropavlovsk. She was the larger of the two battle-cruisers, a heavily armoured pre-dreadnought displacing 23,370 tons and mounting a dozen 12-inch guns. She was the greater threat. He might not be able to sink her with one shot, but if he could cripple her the Bolsheviks might be forced to withdraw the rest of the naval force.
CMB7 would be hard to spot in the early morning haze. Gus knew that the Soviets had a lookout at Tolboukin lighthouse and wondered whether they had seen him yet. It didn’t matter. Any message they sent would arrive too late. Gus tried to estimate the range.
There was an explosion and the sound of grinding metal from the forward compartment. Cursing, Gus shut off the engines as Beeley dived below. Gradually CMB7 sank back into the water, trailing a faint plume of black smoke. Gus looked around. Veroline was cowering in the bottom of the boat, his eyes screwed shut, his right hand clutching a holy medal around his neck. Gus slumped back on his seat and waited for Beeley to tell him the worst. As he sat there completely dejected, he watched the Russian destroyers carefully. If any of them had seen CMB7’s approach and turned to attack now, the British boat would be defenceless.
Several minutes later Hugh Beeley clambered back. The engine had stripped a gear, but he thought he could rig something. It would not be enough for them to make another attack run – the engine would only produce a few knots – but it would get them home. Veroline had recovered from his attack of nerves and was jabbering away in Finnish. Gus did not understand it, but he imagined it was something along the lines of ‘You’re a dangerous idiot and I’m never sailing with you again.’ Gus didn’t blame him.
Half an hour later Beeley started up the engine once more. It backfired repeatedly, but CMB7 moved. Slowly she limped the twenty or so miles back to Terrioki, breaking down twice more on the way. It was 3.30 a.m. by the time they stuttered through the mouth of the harbour, two and a half hours overdue. Hall and Sindall were more than a little relieved to see them, but at least Gus was able to report that Peter had been landed safely – the first part of the mission was complete.
Gus stumbled off to bed. Before he fell asleep he had time to scribble in his diary: ‘Came home, crawling in like a lame dog. Hall very pleased to see me back … I myself did not think the chances of return very rosy.’
The next morning, at 11 o’clock, Gus walked up the hill behind the village to the fort to brief Sarin. The commandant was pleased to have the movements of the ships confirmed and said that he hoped the British navy would now attack the Russian vessels before they had a chance to begin their bombardment of the fortress. Kronstadt was the key to Petrograd and if Kronstadt was to rise in revolt then it was vital that Krasnaya Gorka hang on. Gus had to explain to Sarin very carefully that there was no way Admiral Cowan could attack across the minefields and that in any case, with his force of light unarmoured cruisers, victory would be far from certain against heavily armoured battlecruisers such as the Petropavlovsk and the Andrei Pervozvanni.
In return for the information and as a sign of their new working relationship, Sarin took Gus to the Russian Orthodox church and together they climbed the tower there. There was a marvellous view that commanded the sea approaches in all directions. On a clear day it was possible, with a powerful telescope, to see clear across the Gulf. In the haze that morning Gus could not make out the Russian battleships, but he could easily make out the nearest sea forts. Sarin introduced Gus to the old priest who tended the church and said that he should be allowed to use the tower for observations whenever he wished.
Meanwhile, Gus had to fetch CMB4. Beeley was working hard on the engine of CMB7 – Commandant Sarin had given permission for him to open a workshop in the yacht club building, but there were still various specialised parts and tools he required. There was no way the boat would be ready by Sunday night to collect Peter. So with CMB7 out of action, the problem was how to get back to Biorko and collect CMB4. They had no immediate way of contacting Admiral Cowan and the roads were little better than dirt tracks. Peter had made the journey from Biorko overland on horseback, but there were no horses for hire in the village – and in any case Gus was not sure that he could ride one.
Fortunately Broadbent came to the rescue. He had a friend, Mr Fountovsky, who lived not far from Terrioki and owned a very old, rather beaten-up Benz saloon, a reminder of when the Germans had controlled the country. If Gus would supply cans of petrol, Mr Fountovsky would offer his son as a driver. Gus accepted gratefully.
This may not have been a wise move.
He had enjoyed many hair-raising journeys during his time with the Royal Navy – after all, he had trained as a naval fighter pilot at a time when the aircraft were little more than assemblages of canvas, wire and string. But that breakneck journey through the pine forests of Finland would live in Gus’s memory for evermore. The first thing which should have warned him that something was wrong was the big axe on the back seat. Fountovsky junior merrily explained that trees sometimes fell and blocked the forest tracks and they would often have to be hacked out of the way before the car could proceed – sometimes they would have to leave the track altogether and drive through the forest until they found it again. Gus might also have been interested to know that there was no form of driving test in Finland at this time and that Mr Fountovsky’s son was none too clear on the position of any controls other than the accelerator. This hardly mattered, though, because, as he explained to Gus as they kangarooed out of the village at high speed, most of the controls didn’t work anyway …
They left Terrioki at 5 p.m., paused briefly for dinner at the Fountovskys’ villa at Oasikivoka (although Gus seemed to have lost his appetite) and then shot through the darkening forests and twisting mountain paths arriving at Biorko around 11 p.m. Thanking the son for his help and wishing him, not with much optimism, a safe journey home Gus tried to find a boat to take him to the Francol. The squadron was at sea and only the oiler and a cruiser, HMS Dragon, remained in the Sound. At the pier he found a midshipman in charge of one of the Dragon’s boats. Gus identified himself as a naval lieutenant and asked to be taken to the Francol where CMB4 was moored. Gus’s papers were in order but seeing this dishevelled individual in a cheap brown suit with several days’ growth of beard the young midshipman was naturally sceptical. He agreed to take Gus out, but said that he would have to inform his captain.
Gus was greeted warmly by the captain of the Francol and had just started to have a wash and a shave when a message arrived that the captain of HMS Dragon demanded to see him immediately. So off Gus went again and spent the next two hours explaining exactly who he was and what he was doing. Captain F. A. ‘Figgy’ Marten took some convincing. Gus looked highly disreputable with his five-day growth of beard and dirty civilian clothing, certainly nothing like a naval officer. But finally, at one o’clock on the morning of Sunday, 15 June, he returned to the Francol and was greeted by her friendly old captain once more. It might have been the nervous strain of the journey or it might have been the result of several nights with very little sleep, but after he’d reported to the captain Gus collapsed in his cabin. (‘Made rather an ass of myself,’ he wrote later). The Francol’s captain made him eat a meal and then cleared his own cabin for Gus while he spent the night in the charthouse. There was just time for Gus to be given an update by John Hampsheir on CMB4’s condition. The final repairs had taken longer than expected because of problems with the new engine, but she would be ready by 9 o’clock the next morning. Gus’s dash from Terrioki had not been in vain. He scribbled a note in his diary – ‘Have promised to meet Sokolov at the mouth of the Neva 2330 Sunday night and must not fail’ – and then he was fast asleep. It was the first time he had slept in a bed for at least four nights.
The next morning the squadron had returned to the Sound. Gus went to collect the two ratings who had been promised to him by Admiral Cowan as additional staff to help with routine duties around the villa and to guard the boats. Their names were Turner and Young but the team soon nicknamed them Lenin and Trotsky. Since they were now part of the secret mission, Gus had told them to dress in civilian clothes rather than in uniform. He noted later: ‘… ship’s company delighted by this’, a further sign that operational security was not all it might have been.
Although CMB4 was fuelled up and ready to go in the morning, it took some time to locate the stores that Beeley had asked for. But by 3 o’clock in the afternoon Gus, Hampsheir, Piper and the two ratings were ready to depart. It was a dull, overcast afternoon with the promise of rain to come, but as CMB4 picked up speed across the harbour, Gus’s mood was cheerful. With only thirty miles to cover in daylight he should be back at Terrioki in good time to collect Peter and, hopefully, the mysterious ST-25. He ran the engine at a steady rate so as not to put a strain on the newly installed Fiat engine. Because they were travelling in daylight he did not make a long detour away from the shore as he had done previously, but instead flew the white ensign from the rear of the boat as a clear sign that they were a Royal Navy vessel.
They were just passing Ino Point, not far from the Finnish fort, when a heavy machine gun opened fire on them from somewhere among the trees which lined the shore. Whoever was firing was far too accurate and at least one round ricocheted off something metallic in the boat. Within a few moments, rifle fire started flying around their ears as well. Turner and Young threw themselves flat in the cockpit and Gus crouched low over the wheel as he opened the engine full out and swerved away into deeper waters. It took only a few seconds until CMB4 had taken them safely out of range and the firing ceased as suddenly as it had started, but everyone in the boat was pretty shaken. This far from the border it could only have been Finnish troops who had opened fire on them. Clearly no one had told them that they were supposed to be on the same side. For Turner and Young it was quite a welcome to secret-service work. For Gus it was a useful reminder that he could take nothing for granted out here.
As they drew closer to Terrioki a rolling boom sounded across the Gulf, shortly followed by another. One of the ratings joked about thunder, but Gus and John Hampsheir had both been in action and knew what it was: naval gunfire. The Russian dreadnoughts had opened their attack on Krasnaya Gorka.
They arrived at Terrioki at six o’clock that evening. Hall and Broadbent were very relieved to see them. There were only a few hours until Peter and ST-25 had to be picked up and the success of the entire operation – and possibly the future of MI6 – hung on the information that ST-25 would be bringing with him. If he was still alive.
Gus just had time for a quick bite to eat while Beeley and Hampsheir refuelled CMB4. Sindall told him that the bombardment of the fortress had begun early that morning. According to Commandant Sarin, although the battlecruisers had been in position for some time there had been a delay while the Bolsheviks carried out an infantry attack on a smaller nearby fort known as ‘the Grey Horse’. Once the smaller fort had been taken and Krasnaya Gorka had refused to surrender, the naval shelling had begun. Ominously, the defenders had been told there would be no prisoners. Sindall said that the Russians had been at it all day, but the latest news was that the fortress was holding out and the White flag was still flying defiantly. Gus thought bitterly about his failed attack on the Petropavlovsk two nights before and wondered if he could have forced the Bolshevik fleet to retreat. But it was too late to worry about that now.
At ten o’clock, pausing only to gather Veroline – who seemed to have forgotten his vow never to sail with Gus again – they set off into the gathering darkness. It was a heavily overcast evening and visibility was very poor, but that suited their plan perfectly. Once more they chugged carefully and slowly through the gap between the forts as if sneaking past sleeping ogres. John Hampsheir scanned the forts carefully through binoculars but was unable to see anything in the darkness, not even a chink of light. Then Gus opened the throttle and CMB4 accelerated away to the location where they had dropped Peter just 48 hours ago. They were at the rendezvous ahead of time. There was nothing to do but sit in silence in the darkness and watch the few working lights of Petrograd. Once the city would have been a blaze of light at night but now there was only electric power for a few hours each evening.
The time passed very slowly. Hampsheir never moved far from the Lewis guns and Beeley had the compressed-air tank connected to the engine ready for a rapid departure: they had no idea if Peter had been captured, but if he had he might have given away the rendezvous. The Bolsheviks would have been very happy to nab a Royal Navy vessel in their waters on a mission to collect spies. The crew watched the shore carefully: they were close enough to make out the reed beds where the pram was hidden. The first sign that Peter was ready to row out to them would be his signal of three short flashes of a torch. Then they would give him a signal in reply so that he would know in which direction to row. But as the minutes passed doubt began to enter their minds: did Peter still have the torch? Had he remembered that he was supposed to signal to them first? It was very tempting to flash the signal to shore now to see if there was any response, but they knew that there were bound to be Bolshevik shore patrols on the lookout. Even so Gus whispered to Hampsheir that if there was the sound of shots or any sign that Peter and ST-25 were in trouble he was going to take CMB4 in close to give them covering fire.
A light rain squall passed over. Not enough to soak them, but there was no shelter in the boat and in the night air it was just enough to make them really cold. The time for the rendezvous came and went. Still there was no signal from the shore. Beyond Petrograd the darkness began to lift as the brief Finnish summer night came to an end. Gus calculated that they had perhaps an hour left before dawn. Veroline was watching the sky too and made it clear, largely through sign language, that he thought they should go. Gus made it equally clear that he was well aware of the time and that Veroline should sit down and keep quiet.
Half an hour passed. The eastern sky was really quite pale now and the cloud cover was starting to clear. Even Beeley and Hampsheir were glancing at it nervously. Gus told everyone they would give it just twenty more minutes. It would be cutting the return journey dreadfully close, but he was determined to give Peter and ST-25 every possible chance. Gus checked his compass bearing on the church tower to make sure that CMB4 hadn’t drifted out of place on the current.
Suddenly Gus caught sight of a flickering light. Had it been the signal? He thought he saw it again, but nowhere near the spot where Peter was supposed to be. He ordered Beeley to start the engine and they coasted slowly along the shore. This time they saw the signal clearly and came to a stop as Hampsheir flashed the return signal. In just a few minutes they could make out the pram struggling towards them. Soon it was alongside. Peter stood up and half climbed, half fell onto the side of the boat. He was clearly all in. Gus grabbed his arms and helped him aboard as Beeley reached over the side with a boat-hook to stop the pram from floating away.
Peter sat shivering in the bottom of the boat, gasping, but smiling weakly. At first Gus thought he might have been shot, but a quick glance did not show any obvious wounds, although he was soaked to the skin from the rain and from wading out into the water with the pram. Hampsheir produced a flask of rum and they forced a little between his lips.
‘Found …’ Peter gasped. ‘Found ST-25.’
Gus leaned over the side of the CMB, but the pram was completely empty.
‘Where is he?’ he demanded and then, in one of the few Russian phrases he had picked up in Murmansk: ‘Gdye on?’
Peter looked puzzled for a moment and then murmured:
‘Not coming.’ And passed out.