For Barker and Queenie, it was a chance to get theirflippers on some extra herrings. Britain was at war, and fish were in shortsupply.ForJoseph Woodward, sea-lion trainer extraordinaire, it was a chance to prove thatthese smart, sharp-eared pinnipeds could do their bit for king and country. On 23 February 1917, Barker and Queenie were billed to appear at a public swimming baths in London. The audience was small but discerning 鈥� a few boffins and a vice-admiral ortwo. There would be no cycling, nojuggling, no bouncing balls on noses. All the animals had to do was listen for strange sounds beneath the water and locate the source. If they could home in on the faintest rumble or whirr, then they might be just what the Royal Navy needed to fend off the U-boats that were terrorisingthe nation.
JOSEPH WOODWARD wanted to help. When the first world war began in 1914, Britain was unprepared for the U-boat. Germany鈥檚 fast-growing fleet of submarines was soon taking a huge toll of British ships, threatening to starve the country into submission. Without the technology to detect U-boats, the nation was powerless to stop them. Woodward, 鈥渃aptain鈥� of the 鈥渨orld famous, original performing seals and juggling sea lions鈥�, thought he might have the answer. Sea lions were intelligent and easy to train: they would do anything for fish. If they learned to associate the sound of an engine under water with a handout of herring, they might be able to locate subs lurking around the coast.
Woodward鈥檚 suggestion, like thousands of others, landed on a desk at the Board of Invention and Research. The BIR, a group of civilian scientists expert in everything from optics and acoustics to psychology and physiology, had been set up by the Admiralty in 1915 in an attempt to address two awkward problems. One was the widespread concern that the armed forces were not making full use of the nation鈥檚 best brains to help win the war. The other was the question of how to deal with the torrent of ideas from patriotic members of the public.
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While the scientists of the BIR carried out research into better ways to fight the war, they also vetted the ideas conjured up in the nation鈥檚 pubs, clubs and factory canteens 鈥� more than 37,500 of them in the 29 months of the BIR鈥檚 existence. With the U-boat menace uppermost in people鈥檚 minds, the largest piles of letters ended up with William Bragg, Nobel-prizewinning physicist and head of the BIR鈥檚 section investigating ways to detect and destroy submarines.
The first challenge was finding the U-boats. Most suggestions were farcical: strong magnets, divining rods held over a map of the coast, a crack force of seagulls trained to spot periscopes. The best hope lay in picking up the distant throb of a sub鈥檚 engines, but this was easier said than done. Underwater microphones, or hydrophones, were primitive and not very sensitive. To stand any chance of finding its quarry, a ship would have to stop and turn off its engines, making it a sitting duck for the very sub it was hunting. By late 1916, losses to U-boats were escalating. The BIR decided that maybe sea lions were worth a look.
In December, the board sent marine biologist Ernest Allen to Scotland to see Woodward, who was appearing with Barker and Jumbo at Hengler鈥檚 Circus in Glasgow. Woodward thought the animals would be able to detect submarines by their sound, but Allen had another suggestion: could he train the animals not just to listen out for subs, but to pursue them and raise the alarm? If sea lions learned to associate the sound of a sub with a supply of fresh fish, maybe they could lead the navy鈥檚 patrol boats to the enemy.
Woodward was willing to give the idea a try. Between performances, he put Barker and Jumbo through their paces at one of the city鈥檚 swimming pools. Within a week, Barker had learned that if he swam towards a bell or an electric buzzer there would be a fish when he got there. At sea, though, there was a risk the animals might veer off course in hot pursuit of herring. So Woodward designed a muzzle for the sea lions, then added live fish to the pool. In no time, Barker and Jumbo realised they were wasting their time chasing the fish: the only guarantee of a meal was to make for the sound of the 鈥渟ub鈥�.
The next step was to find out how quiet a sound they could hear. Was it as faint as a distant U-boat? Could they really do better than a hydrophone? Bragg asked acoustics expert Albert Wood to find out. Wood was working at the Admiralty research station at Aberdour on the Firth of Forth. Glasgow was only a short train ride away, but getting together with the sea lions was proving tricky.
Woodward planned the trials at a large open-air pool on Sunday 7 January, and telegraphed Wood to tell him. Wood鈥檚 reply was brief: 鈥淣o trains Sundays. Any weekday suitable.鈥� But Woodward was adamant. 鈥淥ffer weekend hospitality,鈥� he cabled. 鈥淐an experiment Sundays only 86-yard park pond.鈥� The next day brought a letter of explanation. 鈥淎fternoons are full up on account of the daily matinees now established at the circus,鈥� wrote Woodward. 鈥淚 could risk morning work upon them at the baths but if I took them to the park, they might play about with me and not come out of the pond just when wanted. This might make them lose an afternoon鈥檚 performance.鈥� The large pool was vital to the new tests and on Sundays there was no circus.
That Saturday night, Wood was in the front row of the circus watching the sea lions show off their regular tricks. The next day, Woodward and Wood continued their secret work, pitting sea lion against hydrophone with a range of sounds, from a noisy tapping and a loud buzz to a muffled buzzer inside a box and the jingle of small bells from a pony鈥檚 harness. The hydrophone picked up the louder noises, failed to detect the muffled buzz, and could only hear the jingling bells from a few metres. The sea lions were good at locating even the feeblest of sounds 鈥� and while swimming at high speed. The results, reported Wood, 鈥済ive considerable promise of success鈥�.
Even a raw recruit could be useful, Woodward found. Within a fortnight, Queenie, a sea lion lent by London Zoo, graduated as a sub hunter. It was time to show the bigwigs at the BIR what sea lions could do. The show moved to London, where Queenie and Barker convinced a sceptical board that this mad idea wasn鈥檛 so mad after all. Woodward 鈥� joined by his brother Fred and three more stars of the stage 鈥� redoubled his efforts.
At the end of March, Queenie and Billiken, one of Fred鈥檚 sea lions, moved to Lake Bala in Wales. There they homed in on bells and buzzers from a distance of several kilometres. But the work at the lake highlighted a problem. Sea lions may be able to track down a sub, but human observers had trouble keeping track of the sea lions, which surfaced irregularly and briefly.
The sea lions were tagged with bright wooden floats on the end of a fishing line. Life became easier for the spotters, but it was all too much for the sea lions. Dragging a float around was hard work and the lines frequently fouled. They started to rebel. Besides, the weather was growing warmer and it was more fun to explore the lake than swim back and forth when a bell rang. The BIR was worried. Could sea lions be relied on to do their duty in the open sea? In July, Queenie and Billiken were shipped to the south coast to find out.
Queenie began well, but was distracted by passing steamers. Billiken was not even vaguely interested in pursuing a sub. In his defence, Woodward pointed out that Billiken 鈥渉ad some bad herrings about last Friday, and with the following hot spell has been off colour ever since鈥�.
The Admiralty was not swayed and the notion of a crack team of sea lions swimming to the defence of the realm was shelved. In the 1960s, the US navy picked up where Woodward left off. And today, sea lions are trained to protect American ships from mines and underwater saboteurs. The USNavy鈥檚 sea lions saw active service for the first time last year.