The stories which you have read in these pages have been told by British soldiers. I am sure you would now like to read some French stories of various incidents which occurred during the retreat. The following story relates how a French cavalryman received the surrender of three hundred Germans.
One fine morning in August, during a sharp engagement in a small village of Alsace, a French hussar was captured by the enemy. The Germans, who numbered three hundred, were then holding the village. Shortly afterwards French artillery began to shell the place, and it was evident that an infantry attack would soon follow.
When the French infantry were seen advancing, the German officer sought advice from the captured hussar. "If you resist," said the Frenchman, "your whole command will be shot down." To this the German replied, "We are willing to surrender, but we are afraid that your people will put us to death." The hussar gave his word of honour that no such fate would overtake them, and assured them that in France the rules of civilized warfare were always observed. "You need fear nothing," concluded the hussar; "you will be well treated by my countrymen."
A sigh of relief escaped from the lips of the officer, and he said, "Such being the case, we will surrender." At once the hussar placed himself at the head of the column, gave the order to march, and with three hundred Germans at his heels led the way to the French lines, where he handed over his prisoners.
Here is a story in praise of German courage. It is told by a Britishartilleryman. "The grandest thing I saw out there," he says, "was the fight of a handful of Germans. These chaps were the last of a regiment to cross a stream under a fiendish rifle and artillery fire.
"They were hotly pursued by French cavalry and infantry, and when they saw that it was all up with them, the remnant made for a little hill and gathered round the regimental flag, to fight to the last. The French closed round them, and called on them to surrender; but not they! They stood there, back to back, until the last man went down with the flag in his grasp and a dozen bullet wounds in his body.
"Then the flag was captured by the French; but there was no shouting over the victory, and every soldier who passed that way, and knew the story of those chaps, bared his head to the memory of brave men."
In your history books you read of the Battle of Fontenoy, which was fought five miles south-east of Tournai in the year 1745. In that battle, so the story goes, an English general shouted to the enemy, "Gentlemen of the French Guards, fire first." To which they replied, "The French Guard never fires first; fire yourselves." Strange to say, an incident which recalls this exchange of courtesies took place on August 28, 1914, when a French infantry battalion entered Mezières in order to defend the bridges over the Meuse. On reaching the railway bridge, the French lieutenant commanding the detachment learnt that a German patrol was hiding in the station. Taking some men with him, he hurried off to the station and dispersed the patrol. The German officer took refuge in an engine shed, and was discovered by the lieutenant hiding behind a tender. The German prepared to sell his life dearly. The opponents, revolver in hand, stood facing each other. "Pray shoot," said the Frenchman; whereupon the German did so, and missed. The Frenchman then fired, and shot his adversary dead.
How a young French bull played a soldier's part is told in the following story. Early in September, when the Germans were approaching a village between the Marne and the Seine, the inhabitants opened their cowsheds and set the animals free, so that they might not easily be captured bythe enemy. Among the cattle was a steer, which was so terrified by the sound of guns that it charged directly at a German infantry company which had taken up a position on a mound. Mad with rage, the animal dashed into the midst of the Germans, knocking them over like ninepins. Several men fired at him; but the bullets only maddened him the more. He did not fall until he had laid eighteen Germans low.
A very interesting story is told of a young Frenchwoman who was a servant in a girls' boarding-school situated in a village on the line of German advance. When war broke out the pupils were sent away to their homes, and she was left alone in the school, with an old deaf lady who had lost the full use of her limbs. When the Germans entered the village they went through the girls' school from cellar to attic, collecting all the linen and bedding for the use of their wounded, whom, for some reason best known to themselves, they installed, not in the main school building but in the adjoining chapel.
The servant girl tended the German wounded with great devotion, for two reasons: first, because she was very tender-hearted; and secondly, because she had a special reason for wishing to stand well with the invaders. She had a secret, and it was this. Down in the grotto at the foot of the school garden she had concealed ten British "Tommies," who had lost their way, and had arrived hungry, weary, and footsore just an hour before the Germans entered the village. "They will be here in a moment," said the British officer, not wishing that the girl should run into danger on their behalf. "Never mind," she said; "I'll hide you somewhere, and look after you." Then she led them to the grotto.
The soldiers found their quarters narrow, damp, and very uncomfortable. The girl was anxious to give them better accommodation, so in the night she managed to get them into the house and instal them in the unoccupied rooms on the top floor of the school.
The ten "Tommies" were now in comfortable quarters; but how to feed them was a difficult question. She gave them her own food, but that was not enough. Then she went to and fro amongst her friends and relations, begging a piece of bread here and some vegetables there. When the Germans saw her with a heavily-loaded basket they were suspicious, andasked her what she was going to do with the food. "It is for your wounded in the chapel," she said, and their suspicions were allayed. She appointed herself cook for the Germans, and was thus able to pick up all sorts of broken victuals for her friends on the top floor. British soldiers, as you know, are very fond of tobacco, and the girl was anxious to provide them with something to smoke. The Germans had made a rule that no one was to buy more than two sous' worth of tobacco at a time. This made her task very hard, but it did not daunt her. She got together some boy friends, and sent them to buy small quantities of tobacco at various shops each day. In this way the "Tommies" on the top floor were able to enjoy their pipes while they remained in hiding.
A hundred times a day they were in danger of being discovered by the Germans. The clever girl knew this, so she provided them with a rope, which they hung down through trap doors to the ground floor. She advised them to practise escape drill, so that they might get away if the Germans discovered them. This they did, and were soon quite expert. "Just imagine!" said the girl when she told the story: "my Englishmen after a few days were able to strap their haversacks and all slip down the rope noiselessly in less than five minutes."
Happily the "Tommies" were never discovered, and there was no need for them to use their rope as a means of escape. Some time afterwards the Germans were obliged to leave the town, and the British soldiers were able to reach their own lines in safety. Before they departed they gave the girl their names and addresses, and begged her to come to England when the war was over, so that they might repay her for all her kindness. The French paper which reports the story says that one of the ten was a nobleman, a relative of King George, and that his name was—Lord Smith! Can't you imagine the merry face of the rogue who gave the girl this astounding piece of information?
I have already told you that every French boy must be a soldier when he is twenty years of age. Many of the French boys who were in their teens when the war broke out were very keen to shoulder a rifle and march against the enemy. When the Germans drew near to Paris, a boy namedAndré, who was only twelve years of age, felt that he must do something to defend his country. One day he disappeared, leaving behind him the following letter:—
"My dear Father and Mother,—I am starting for the war. Don't worry about me. I have my savings-bank money.—Your loving son,
"My dear Father and Mother,—I am starting for the war. Don't worry about me. I have my savings-bank money.—Your loving son,
"André."
A fortnight passed, and the anxious parents heard nothing of their boy. Then one morning he reappeared, very hardy and sunburnt but very sorrowful, and gave this account of his adventures. He had travelled many long miles before he reached a regiment of the army. He told the men he had come to help them. They laughed at him, but they had not the heart to send him away. So he had marched with them, shared their rations, and slept in their bivouacs or billets at night. At last the colonel noticed him, and made him give an account of himself. The upshot was, that he was sent home to wait until he was some years older and could join the army in the proper way.
Now I must tell you some British stories. Lance-Corporal Nolan of the Scots Greys, who formed one of a reconnoitring party, was preparing to engage a German patrol when a scout came up to say that a whole division of the enemy was at hand. The Greys attacked the patrol; but our hero had his horse shot under him, and he received a bullet in the right arm. A sergeant gave him a lift on his horse, and together they tried to gallop into safety. As they dashed on through the streets of a village, the Germans fired at them from the windows, killing the horse and wounding the sergeant. Both men were captured, and the Germans stripped them of everything but their trousers and shirts. One man snatched from Nolan the revolver which he had taken from a German officer, and was about to rob him of his shirt, when the very German officer from whom he had taken the revolver appeared, and said, "You are the man who took my revolver. Let me have it back instantly." Nolan replied, "I haven't got it. One of your own men has taken it." "Then come with me," said the officer, "and find the man who took it, and I will have him shot." "I went round with him," said Nolan, "as a matter of form; but I was nothaving any. Even if I had found the chap who had taken the revolver, I should not have peached on him, as I knew what his fate would have been." Nolan was afterwards taken to hospital, and was left behind when the Germans were driven off by a British cavalry brigade. Finally his comrades took him back to his own lines.
Many stories are told of brave fellows who have gallantly dashed through a storm of bullets to carry important messages to their comrades in other trenches. A wounded corporal of the Gloucester Regiment gives us an instance which occurred during the retreat. "Orders had been given to a battalion holding an advanced position to fall back. The only way to get the order through was for a man to run the gauntlet of a murderous fire. Volunteers were called for from the Royal Irish Fusiliers. All wanted to go, but by tossing for it a choice was made. The man on whom the lot fell was a shock-headed fellow, who didn't look as if there was much in him; but he had grit. Ducking his head in a way that made us laugh, he rushed into the hail of shot and shell. He cleared the first hundred yards without being hit, but in the second hundred they brought him down. He rose again and struggled on for a few minutes, but was hit once more, and then collapsed.
"Two men now dashed into the fire and rushed across, while the Germans were doing their best to pot them. One picked up the wounded man and started back to the trenches with him, while the other took the dispatch and ran ahead with it. Just as the wounded man and his mate were within a few yards of our trenches, and we were cheering them, there came another hail of bullets, and both went down dead. Meanwhile the man with the dispatch was racing for all that he was worth. He got through all right, until in the last lap he was brought down like a felled ox. He was seen from the other trenches, and half a dozen men rushed out to his aid. They were all shot down, but he was now crawling towards the trenches with his message. With assistance he reached them, and, d, thanks to him, the battalion was safely withdrawn to a new position."
In the dispatch describing the first part of the retreat from Mons, Sir John French said: "I wish particularly to bring to your lordship'snotice the admirable work done by the Royal Flying Corps, under Sir David Henderson. Their skill, energy, and perseverance have been beyond all praise."
Here is a story which shows you the resource and coolness of a British flying man in a very tight place. During the retreat to the Marne a squadron commander, with a passenger, made a long scouting flight over a part of the country from which the British had withdrawn while he was in the air. On his return he descended in a field which seemed to afford him a good landing-place, and was, as he thought, within the British lines. As his machine was running along the grass and about to come to rest, he saw to his amazement two mounted German officers galloping towards him, and behind them large numbers of infantry, who had been hidden behind the trees.
Fortunately, the propeller of his aeroplane was still revolving, so he opened the throttle and set the engine going again at top speed. Instead of rising rapidly from the ground, he flew along quite close to the German officers, waving his hand in friendly greeting. His passenger at once grasped the situation, and followed the pilot's example. The Germans thought that they were two of their own air scouts, and cheered them heartily.
The pilot turned and flew back across the German front again, waving his hand and showing other signs of friendliness. Slowly he rose, higher and higher, and circled round and round, until he was high in the air, when he headed for the safety of the Royal Flying Corps camp. He had completely deceived the enemy, and had obtained valuable information as to their numbers and the positions which they held. You will be able to appreciate fully the cleverness of this flying man when I tell you that there was a Union Jack painted on the wings of his aeroplane. He very skilfully turned and "banked" his machine so that the near wing-tips pointed down to the Germans, and the underside of the wings which showed the Union Jack were thus hidden from view, until he was so far up in the air as to be out of range of their guns.
According to custom, I will conclude this chapter by giving you the names of the heroes who were awarded the Victoria Cross during the latter part of the British retreat. All of them belong to Battery L of the Royal Horse Artillery. They are:—
Battery Sergeant-Major George Thomas Dorrell(now Second Lieutenant). I have already told you (see pages 147-8) how he continued to serve a gun at Néry on 1st September until all the ammunition was expended. You will remember that all the officers of his battery were killed or wounded, and that he and his mates were subjected to a terrible fire from guns and Maxims at a range of only six hundred yards.
Sergeant David Nelson(now Second Lieutenant). While under heavy fire at Néry, and severely wounded, he helped to bring the guns into action, and remained with them until all the ammunition was used up, although he had been ordered to retire to cover.
Captain Edward Kinder Bradbury.You read on page147how gallantly he rallied the men of his battery, and directed their fire until he was shot down. Unhappily, the Victoria Cross was not awarded to him until after his lamented death.
While our gallant soldiers are resting after their long retreat, we will make for
"The sea! the sea! the open sea!The blue, the fresh, the ever-free!"
"The sea! the sea! the open sea!The blue, the fresh, the ever-free!"
and follow the fortunes of our sailors during the first two months of the war. In Chapter II., Volume I., you learnt that our first line of defence was fully prepared for active service the moment that war broke out. From the first we had the command of the seas. Our British Home Fleet was fully forty per cent. stronger than any fleet that the Germans could bring against it in the North Sea, and besides this we had many other squadrons scouring the oceans of the world, and the assistance of the French and Japanese navies. On the sea the Germans and Austrians were hopelessly inferior to the Allies.
Such being the case, the Germans, though they had long toasted "The Day" on which they were going to destroy our naval supremacy for ever, dared not leave their harbours and show fight. They were very wise in this respect. They knew that pitched battles could only end in one way—the entire destruction of their navy.
You read in Chapter XVII. of Volume I. that their plan was to strew the North Sea with mines, in the hope that our ships would bump upon them and be blown up. In this way they hoped that our strength would be slowly reduced to their own level. The Germans meant to keep their fleet in safety until they could fight us upon even terms. They believed that our sailors ploughing the sea day after day in search of an enemy thatcould not be found, and going in constant terror of floating mines and submarines, would grow stale and dispirited. Then when many of our ships had gone down, and our men were worn out in body and in mind, they meant to sally forth and crush British sea-power once and for all. It was an excellent plan—on paper.
Before I pass on to describe the first sea fight of the war, let us look for a moment at the coast line of Germany. It is, as you know, entirely confined to a strip on the North Sea, and to a long stretch on the Baltic Sea. On both these sea fronts Germany had to meet a naval power—the British in the North Sea, and the Russians in the Baltic. You were told on page 141 of Volume I. that, in order to enable German warships to pass rapidly from one front to the other, the Kiel Canal has been constructed. The work of widening and deepening this canal was completed some six weeks before the outbreak of war.
The German coast on the North Sea is only about a hundred miles from west to east, not counting indentations; and it is washed by very shallow waters, which are much impeded by sandbanks. The sea is gaining on the shore, as you may notice from the long line of fringing islands which were formerly part of the mainland. Close to the Dutch frontier, on the estuary of the Ems, is the port and manufacturing town of Emden. The Germans have spent much money in constructing at Emden a harbour big enough and deep enough to accommodate the largest liners and warships. Between the mouth of the Ems and the Jade there is a long, sandy stretch of coast, backed by dunes and broken by tidal creeks. On the west side of the Jade estuary stands Wilhelmshaven, the great North Sea naval base of Germany. It was established by the present Kaiser's grandfather in 1869, and is very strongly fortified. It boasts two harbours, several wet and dry docks, coaling basins, and a large naval barracks. In time of peace the First Squadron of the German High Sea Fleet is stationed at Wilhelmshaven.
On the east side of the estuary of the Weser is Bremerhaven, with three large harbour basins and several docks, including the dry dock of the North German Lloyd steamers. About twenty miles north of Bremerhaven, at the mouth of the Elbe, is Cuxhaven, which between 1892 and 1895 was turned into a port capable of berthing the largest ocean-goingsteamers. It is the outport of Hamburg, the greatest seaport on the Continent of Europe, and the Hamburg-America steamers make it their headquarters. Nature has already fortified the ports along this coast, for the estuaries on which they stand consist of a network of mazy channels winding amidst deadly sandbanks, which can only be threaded safely by pilots who spend their lives in the work. The Germans have, however, not trusted solely to this natural protection, but have set up very strong forts at all points where there is danger of attack.
The whole coast is followed by a double line of railways, built not for trade but for purposes of war—probably for an invasion of England. The Germans watch the coast most jealously, and will not allow visitors to approach the chief forts. In the year 1911 they imprisoned a British Territorial officer, Captain Bertrand Stewart—the first to give his life in the war—on the false charge of spying out the defences of the towns and islands along this precious seaboard.
About the centre of the North Sea line of coast, thirty-five miles to the northward of Cuxhaven, is the island of Heligoland, which is the fortified outer guard of the Kiel Canal and the key to the German coast defences. For eighty-three years the Union Jack waved over it, but in 1890 it was ceded to Germany. It is a sandstone islet, one mile in length and 650 yards in breadth, with almost vertical cliffs on all sides. So soft is the sandstone that the sea makes great inroads on it.In the year 800A.D.the circumference of Heligoland was 120 miles, but by 1300A.D.it had been reduced by the everlasting gnawing of the sea to forty-five miles. Now it is but three or four miles round. The Germans have surrounded it with a concrete wall, so that the sea can no longer eat it away.
In the heart of the rock, underground passages, chambers, and galleries have been excavated, and the whole island has been turned into an impregnable fortress. The many batteries are invisible from the sea, and the plateau on top of the island has been made bombproof. Only on the north side of the island can the cliffs be scaled by an invader, and the possible landing-places are all commanded by guns. On the highest point of the island—245 feet above the sea—are a lighthouse and a wireless station. Hangars for Zeppelins have been built on the plateau. These sheds are very cleverly constructed. They can be revolved so that the air-ships in them can be brought to the entrance, head to the wind, and, if necessary, they can be sunk into a valley out of sight of the sea. There is a large harbour for destroyers and submarines at the eastern end of the island, and also a small dockyard for repairing light craft.
When Heligoland passed into German hands a Russian soldier said that thenceforth a blockade of the North Sea German coast would be extremely difficult. A British blockading fleet would not only have to expect attack from the front, but both its flanks would be constantly threatened. Thus the German vessels would be able to slip out, make raids on the estuaries and ports of the east coast of Britain, and attack British ships in their own waters. We shall see later that this prophecy came true. Meanwhile the Germans strewed their own coast with mine-fields, and thus made it almost impossible of attack.
Immediately war broke out our Grand Fleet disappeared. It melted into space, as it were, and nothing was seen of it but the ships patrolling the coast. But though a thick veil was drawn over its movements, it made itself felt at once. It forced the Germans to keep their most powerful ships in harbour, and it put an end to all talk of invasion. In the year 1910 Sir Arthur Wilson, who was then First Sea Lord of the Admiralty, said that the really serious danger that we had to guard against in war was not an invasion of our shores, but the stoppage of our trade and thedestruction of our merchant shipping. Our overseas trade is extremely important, and the destruction of our merchant shipping would, as you know, rob us of our food and compel us to starve or surrender. The Germans know this very well, and just before the war they sent out cruisers and armed liners to fall upon our peaceful merchant ships and sink them.
We had, of course, prepared against such attacks on our shipping. Our cruisers were in every quarter of the globe, and we immediately began to sweep the German commerce raiders from the seas. Our Government believed that we should lose 10 per cent. of our vessels, but by the beginning of October we had only lost 1¼ per cent., while Germany and Austria had lost 10 per cent. of their total shipping. This was a remarkable state of things, and quite contrary to our experience in former wars. During the year 1813, when the British navy was at the height of its power, and we were at war with the United States, the ships of the enemy captured 650 British vessels. From 4th August 1914 to 10th March 1915 the Germans only captured or sank 90 of our ships. By the end of October the trade routes were practically as free as they had ever been. British trade passed to and fro almost as freely as in time of peace. Our food supply was hardly molested, and though prices rose there was no shortage. It was said very truly that every British child ought to repeat this grace before meat: "Thank God for my good dinner and for the British Navy."
Before I tell you how the German commerce raiders came to grief, you shall hear the story of two German cruisers, theGoeben[85]and theBreslau. They were in the Mediterranean Sea, off the coast of Algeria, when war broke out. Probably they had been ordered to the Mediterranean to assist the Austrians, and also the Italians if they should elect to take a hand in the war. As you know, the Italians refused to fight along with their allies, because they believed that Germany and Austria had provoked the war. TheGoebenwas the fastest ship in the German fleet, and theBreslauwas only slightly inferior in speed. The two shipsbegan operations by shelling some of the unprotected coast towns of Algeria, and then turned northwards, with the object, it is believed, of making for the Strait of Gibraltar. They were headed off by a British fleet; but they outdistanced their pursuers, and early on the mornings of 5th August appeared off Messina. Here the captains and the officers made their wills, and handed them over, along with their valuables and signed portraits of the Kaiser, to the care of the German consul. Then the decks were cleared, and the bands struck up, and out they steamed, as everybody thought, to give battle to the British fleet.
Unfortunately for us, they evaded our ships. When, however, they were going full steam to the eastward, and were off Cape Matapan, the British cruiserGloucestersighted them. Though she was only one ship against two, she gallantly engaged them, and did some damage to both. They took to their heels, and were next heard of in the Dardanelles, where, contrary to all the rules of war, they were sold to the Turkish Government. Such was the inglorious exploit of Germany's crack cruisers. It was a bad beginning for the German navy, but there was worse to follow.
The first of the German commerce raiders to go under was theKaiser Wilhelm der Grosse[86]—far too big a mouthful for the British sailor, who promptly christened her "Billy the Grocer." She was a fine fast liner of 14,000 tons, and had been armed with 4-inch guns. Her business was to hold up sea traffic between Great Britain and the Cape of Good Hope. She captured and sank a few ships, amongst them theKaipara, belonging to the New Zealand Shipping Company. Shortly after sinking theKaiparashe was attacked by H.M.S.Highflyer(August 27). The fight was fast and furious, but the guns of theKaiser Wilhelmwere easily outranged. The first shot from theHighflyerdisabled the German's port gun and tore away part of her bridge. Shortly afterwards she sank riddled with shot. Our losses were one man killed and five slightly wounded. The German captain had placed his prisoners of war on board a collier before the duel began, and this and previous acts of humanity won him the approval of our Admiralty. When the news was flashed by wireless to Whitehall the Admiralty sent the following message to theHighflyer:—
"Bravo! you have rendered a service not only to Britain, but to the peaceful commerce of the world. The German officers and crew appear to have carried out their duties with humanity and restraint, and are therefore worthy of all seamanlike consideration."
On September 4 came news of disaster. TheSpeedy, a British torpedo gunboat of an old type, bumped against a mine and foundered. Next day H.M.S.Pathfinderwas steaming northward on a calm sea, and was about twenty miles from St. Abb's Head, when suddenly a terrific explosion blew her almost to fragments. She had been torpedoed by a German submarine, the periscope of which was seen shortly before the explosion. The skipper of a trawler who witnessed the disaster said that he saw the ship surrounded by a cloud of smoke, and that when it cleared there was not a trace of her to be seen. He hurried to the rescue, and so did other fishing vessels in the neighbourhood, and by their exertions some of the crew were saved, but 250 men and 9 officers perished. For a few days the Admiralty kept back the news from the public, in the hope that one or more of the submarines in the neighbourhood might be trapped. Later on, it was reported that these venturesome craft had been scouting as far north as the Orkneys. German wireless news informed us that thePathfinderhad been sunk by the U22.[87]
The British navy had its revenge twelve days later. Submarine E9,[88]commanded by Lieutenant-Commander Max K. Horton, an officer of the greatest daring and skill, of whom we shall hear more later, pushed into the Bight of Heligoland, and, six miles south of the island, fell in with the German cruiserHela. He discharged two torpedoes at her, one striking her at the bow and the other amidships. She burst into flames and sank in an hour, most of the crew being saved. When E9 returned to Harwich, flying a little yellow flag, and beneath it a white flag with the skull and cross bones, all seafaring men knew that she had been victorious. She had a great reception; the crews of the warships in theharbour cheered her again and again, and Lieutenant-Commander Horton was playfully dubbed by his comrades "The Double-toothed Pirate."
On 20th September came the news of a serious misfortune. Since the outbreak of war H.M.S.Pegasushad been working from Zanzibar along the coast of German East Africa. She had destroyed the port of Dar-es-Salaam,[89]and had sunk a German gunboat and a floating dock. At 5 a.m. on the morning of Sunday, 20th September, she was lying at anchor in Zanzibar harbour, cleaning her boilers and repairing her machinery. Suddenly the German cruiserKönigsbergappeared, and caught her unawares. The German ship was armed with guns which outranged those of thePegasus, and she immediately began a fierce bombardment. ThePegasusdischarged her broadside; but the Germans disabled her guns with three shots, and then for a quarter of an hour rained shells upon her, while she was helpless to reply. After a lull theKönigsbergopened fire again, and thePegasusby this time was able to return shot for shot. When the German steamed off to the southward the British ship was found to be badly holed, and was towed away and grounded on a sand spit. She had lost 25 killed and 80 wounded out of a crew of 234.
During the fight the British flag was twice shot away. It could not be nailed to the mast as in the days of Nelson, for masts are now made of iron; yet it had to fly in sight of the enemy, for without it the ship would seem to have surrendered. Rather than let this dishonour attach to them, two marines seized the flag and held it up while a new flagstaff was being rigged. It was still fluttering its defiance when theKönigsbergsteamed away.
I have told you in these pages of scores of heroic deeds; in the multitude of them let us not forget the brave and devoted men who kept the flag flying in Zanzibar harbour, and thus showed the enemy that the British navy of to-day is still inspired by the old unconquerable spirit of Blake and Nelson.
Early in September we first heard of the famous German raider theEmden. She had been on the China station when war broke out, and now she appeared in the Bay of Bengal and began her career of destruction.I will tell you her full story later on, when I come to the day when she was sunk.
Now we will learn how the German commerce raiderCap Trafalgarwas sent to her doom. She was a fast liner, armed with eight 4-inch guns and machine guns. Strange to say, her victorious opponent was a British armed liner, theCarmania, of the White Star line. Liverpool boys and girls are sure to have seen theCarmanialying in the Mersey, or at the Prince's landing-stage, for she has regularly crossed the Atlantic since 1905.
On 14th September the crew of theCarmaniawere just sitting down to their midday meal when the lookout men sighted a strange vessel. She was a liner as big as theCarmania. She was not at first recognized as an enemy, because she had rigged up a dummy funnel, and made herself look something like a Union Castle liner. The British captain, however, was suspicious, so he ordered a shot to be fired across the stranger's bows as a signal to heave-to. No sooner had the shot plumped into the water than the stranger opened fire, and the German flag fluttered to her masthead.
TheCarmanialet fly her port guns, and soon both vessels were fighting hammer and tongs. Both were big ships, and very good targets: theCarmania, for example, is 675 feet long and 60 feet out of the water, and aiming at her is like shooting at the side of a street. TheCap Trafalgarhit theCarmaniamore than three hundred times, but only two of the shots were serious. For the most part the shells flew high, and only damaged theCarmania'srigging and upper works. The British gunners aimed low, and her captain so manoeuvred the ship that she was end on to her enemy most of the time.
Shot after shot hit theCap Trafalgaron the water line, and soon she caught fire. After the duel had lasted one hour and forty-five minutes she heeled over at such an angle that the men on theCarmaniacould actually look down her funnels. Then there was an explosion, and her bows went under; another explosion followed, and she slowly disappeared. Many of the men struggling in the water were rescued by the empty collier that accompanied her. TheCarmaniawas prevented from sending her boats to the rescue because she was on fire forward. Our loss was nine men killed, five seriously wounded, and twenty-one slightlywounded. The following message was received from the Admiralty soon after the news reached London:—
"Well done. You have fought a fine action to a successful finish."
On the night before the Battle of Trafalgar Nelson knelt in his cabin on theVictoryand wrote a beautiful prayer, in which he besought, "May humanity after victory be the predominant feature in the British fleet." It has always been so, and it will always be so. I must now tell you of an action in which humanitybeforevictory led to a great disaster. On 22nd September three British cruisers, theAboukir,Hogue, andCressy, were cruising off the coast of Holland. They were old ships, and they were at sea for the last time; the Admiralty had already decided to sell them for breaking up.
The weather was bad, and the usual escort of destroyers had been delayed. Suddenly there was a terrible explosion on board theAboukir. She had been hit by a torpedo from a submarine right under one of her magazines. The submarine, the famous U9, commanded by Lieutenant-Commander Weddingen, had got within range under cover of a trawler flying the Dutch flag. TheAboukirsank rapidly, and at once theHogueand theCressyslowed down, and began to lower their boats in order to save the survivors who were struggling in the water.
This was a splendid chance for the German submarine; for, as I have already told you, it is very difficult for under-water craft to torpedo a ship travelling zigzag at a high speed. She has to aim herself at her target, and only by chance can she do this when her quarry is rapidly changing its course. When, however, it comes to rest, the submarine has an easy task.
Two torpedoes in quick succession now sped towards theHogue, and five minutes later she had gone under, and the sea was dotted with men swimming for dear life or clinging desperately to bits of wreckage. Soon afterwards there was another explosion, and theCressysuffered the same fate. Three torpedoes had been fired at her, and two of them had hit her. Two Dutch trawlers now came to the rescue, and their crews worked like Trojans to save the lives of our men. British destroyers also arrived, and took part in the work of rescue; but the loss of life was very great. About 60 officers and 1,400 men were killed or drowned.The ships themselves were no great loss, but the 1,460 brave and highly-trained men who went down on that fateful day can never be replaced. "The conduct of the crew," says the commander of theCressy, "was excellent throughout." "There was no panic of any sort," wrote the commander of theHogue, "the men taking off their clothes as ordered, and falling in with hammock or wood. . . . All the men behaved extraordinarily well, obeying orders even when in the water and swimming for their lives. I witnessed many cases of great self-sacrifice and gallantry. Farmstone, able seaman, of theHogue, jumped overboard from the launch to make room for others, and would not avail himself of assistance until all men near by were picked up; he was in the water about half an hour."
The Admiralty afterwards sent a message to the Fleet, pointing out that though this heavy loss of life was due to the natural desire of our sailors to save their fellows in distress, it ought to have been avoided, and would probably not have taken place if theHogueand theCressyhad kept on their courses, and left the work of succour to small craft. The stoppage of these vessels was no doubt a mistake, but I think that we shall all be ready to forgive those who made it when we remember that they laid down their lives while trying to save their comrades from a watery grave.
A sailor who was saved tells the following story:—
"The best thing I saw was the coolness of a little cadet. Not more than fourteen he looked. He drifted near me; he and a seaman clinging with their hands and elbows to the same bit of wood. I never saw anything as calm as that lad. He was talking to the seaman with him. 'Well,' he says, 'we've got to carry on like this, and if we die we shall die game.' And with that he begins to talk about everyday things on the sunken ship. 'What's the new engineer like?' he says, and chats about the little incidents in the mess. Only fourteen—a little light-haired boy. I hope he was saved."
So do we all. If he was rescued, we all hope that in days to come he will command one of the King's ships, and play his part as nobly as he did when floating on the sea, face to face with death.