A Great War ‘lifesaving’ D.S.M. group of five awarded to Stoker Petty Officer F. J. Watts, Royal Navy, who was decorated for his services on board the Torpedo Boat Destroyer H.M.S. Mounsey at the heroic rescue of 600 men from the stricken Auxiliary Cruiser H.M.S. Otranto in the North Channel, 6 October 1918

Distinguished Service Medal, G.V.R. (298137. F. J. Watts, Sto. P.O. “Mounsey” North Channel. 6, Oct. 1918.); 1914-15 Star (298137. F. J. Watts. S.P.O., R.N.); British War and Victory Medals (298137 F. J. Watts. S.P.O. R.N.); Royal Navy L.S. & G.C., G.V.R., 1st issue (298137. F. J. Watts, Sto. P.O. H.M.S. Blake); together with a metal and enamel S.S. Otranto lapel badge, contact wear to first and fifth therefore good fine, the remainder generally very fine (5) £800-£1,200

D.S.M. London Gazette 17 March 1919

Frederick John Watts was born in 1883 at Bristol, Somerset. He entered the Royal Navy as Stoker 2nd Class in August 1901 aged 16 years. Advanced to Stoker in July 1902 and to Stoker 1st Class in July 1906, he embarked aboard his first ship the pre-dreadnought battleship H.M.S. Russell in January 1908 before leaving her and joining H.M.S. Cumberland in August 1908, serving in her until September 1911. He was advanced Leading Stoker in February 1912 and served in HMS Defence from March 1912, H.M.S. Caesar from October 1913 and the Majestic-class pre-dreadnought battleship HMS Prince George from July 1914, remaining with her from the outbreak of hostilities until March 1916 and being promoted in the interim to Stoker Petty Officer in May 1915. ‘Prince George’ was attached to the Channel Fleet during the early stages of the war. In early 1915, she was dispatched to the Mediterranean for service in the Dardanelles Campaign where she participated in bombardments of Turkish forts and supported the Allied operations at Gallipoli, including the evacuation from the peninsula late in 1915.
Watts joined the M-class destroyer H.M.S. Mounsey on 18 July 1916 and his Naval Long Service and Good Conduct medal was sent to the Captain Destroyers afloat, First Destroyer Flotilla, on 25 August 1917. H.M.S. Mounsey would later be an active witness at one of the war’s greatest convoy disasters.

The loss of the Otranto
On 16 October 1918, carrying troops from America in poor visibility and rough seas, the converted former armed merchant cruiser collided with the S.S. Kashmir off the north coast of Islay. As the damaged vessels drifted apart, water poured into the huge hole in Otranto’s port side and, losing her steering and in a sinking condition, she drifted towards the rocky coast of Islay. First to respond to the stricken vessel’s S.O.S. calls was the Torpedo Boat Destroyer H.M.S. Mounsey commanded by Lieutenant F. W. Craven. Dwarfed by the Otranto’s rearing and plunging 12,000 ton frame, the Mounsey, one tenth the size, gallantly closed to take off survivors. Four times she crashed alongside the Otranto. Each time hundreds of crew and American servicemen of the latter jumped in an attempt to reach the destroyer’s decks. On the second occasion the Mounsey was damaged with a large amount of water entering the engine room (where Watts would have been). In what must have been terrible circumstances, many men met their death in the waters between the two vessels and many others received serious injuries on hitting the Mounsey’s deck. The Otranto eventually drifted ashore and became a total wreck. The loss of life was heavy; 431 persons were lost (351 American soldiers and 80 crew) but the Mounsey set sail for Belfast, perilously overladen, with an astonishing 596 survivors. For his courage and seamanship, the Mounsey’s captain, Lieutenant F. W. Craven was awarded the British D.S.O. and American D.S.M. Two officers of the Mounsey were awarded the D.S.C. and three men (including Watts) received the D.S.M.

For the remainder of the war, and until April 1919, Watts continued to serve on the Mounsey while his depot ship was variously Blake, Hecla and Vivid ii. Later in 1919 he transferred to depot ships H.M.S. Apollo, H.M.S. Columbine and Vivid II once more and served on H.M.S. Valiant and the battlecruiser H.M.S. Glorious before leaving the service in June 1922. Frederick John Watts died in Bristol in 1952.
Sold with copied research.

Taffrail’s ‘Endless Story’ states of the Otranto rescue operation:
‘According to the account of one survivor, the ship had anchored but was dragging, when, at about 10 a.m., the destroyer Mounsey appeared in answer to the distress signal. In the huge seas the destroyer rolled and plunged violently as she approached, at times all but hidden from the sight of those in the Otranto as she fell into the troughs of the waves. But, circling round the Otranto's stern, she came up on her starboard side.

Captain Davidson advised the Mounsey's captain, Lieutenant F. W. Craven, not to attempt to come alongside. To do so seemed to be risking almost certain disaster. But Craven replied that it was the only chance of saving life, which was the simple truth. The Otranto lowered two of her lifeboats almost to the water's edge to act as fenders, and the Mounsey, unable to come alongside in the ordinary way because of the sea, lay off close to the liner's lee side and allowed the larger ship to drift down on top of her. On board the Otranto, all the men were still fallen in at their boat stations wearing lifebelts, and word was passed advising them to take off their heavier clothing and overcoats. Many, realising they would have to jump for it, also removed their boots.

The Otranto was heeling over considerably. Nearer and nearer the Mounsey drifted, staggering, rolling, pitching in the sea, borne high on the back of a great comber at one moment, and the next sliding into a watery valley. It seemed impossible that so frail and so lightly built a ship, with plating no stouter than thick cardboard, could withstand the shock of meeting a larger vessel broadside on in such weather conditions. She might beat in her side, become hopelessly disabled, perhaps sink alongside.

Fenders were lowered, and with the splintering of wood as the suspended lifeboats took the weight and collapsed, the two ships met with a crashing, grinding shudder. On board the Otranto there was no confusion or panic. The men in the first line were ordered to jump for their lives when the opportunity came. They did so as the destroyer was lifted on a sea, and though a few missing their footing, fell between the ships and were crushed to death, many more landed on board the Mounsey, where willing hands were waiting to receive them. Some, jumping too late as the destroyer fell into a hollow, broke their arms or legs as they landed on her steel deck.

After being alongside for some time, it was reported to Craven that the Mounsey was damaged, and that there was a large amount of water in the engine-room. He was forced to abandon the work of rescue for a time, and, managing to claw his way clear of the Otranto with the greatest difficulty, found that the damage was not so serious as he expected.

So he took his ship alongside again - in all, four times - saving many men on each occasion. Altogether, he rescued 596 officers and men, of whom 300 were American soldiers. Then, with his little ship crowded as she had never been crowded before, and without room on board for another soul, he was forced to steam away.

The gale persisted, and the helpless Otranto eventually drifted ashore on Islay, where, in the raging sea, she became a total loss. Of the 447 officers and men who remained on board, only 16 were saved when the vessel struck, Captain Davidson and most of his officers being numbered among the drowned.

The Kashmir, it may be added, managed to make a Scottish port, where she landed her troops.

Craven's action in rescuing 596 lives that would otherwise have been lost was a magnificent feat, for which he was afterwards awarded the D.S.O. and, by the President of the United States, the American Distinguished Service Medal. No man deserved these honours more. ‘His performance’, in the words of the London Gazette of 17 March 1919, ‘was a remarkable one, and in personal courage, coolness, and seamanship ranks in the very highest order.’

It is difficult to write of such an episode in cold blood, more difficult still to write in such a way that a reader may realise something of the awful difficulty and danger of taking a fragile little ship of 1,000 tons alongside a vessel more than ten times her own size in a howling gale and a raging sea. Craven risked his ship, his own life, and the life of every man on board the Mounsey. Moreover, he knew the risk he was running. But it was justified, and his cool judgement and seamanship brought him out triumphant.

There are many tales of heroic rescues at sea: but for calm determination and gallantry there are few that I have come across that equal Craven's saving of those men from the Otranto. Even in the Royal Navy, which sets a high standard upon personal merit and regards as an everyday occurrence an incident which would provide a “scoop” story for a popular newspaper, the Mounsey's feat is not forgotten.’

Sold together with a Great War Scrap Book containing letters, photographs and newspaper cuttings compiled by Lieutenant Craven, in command of H.M.S. Mounsey at the rescue of Auxiliary Cruiser Otranto. Most of the letters are from members of the public congratulating Craven on his brave exploits.