"FromOnyx, lat. 54° 17' 20" N., long. 2° 9' 30" E. Sighted seaplanes, numerous, nationality unknown, steering due west."
With commendable promptitude this information was transmitted to the Admirality, and since it was known that none of the British seaplanes had left their respective bases that night, it was taken for granted the aircraft were of German nationality. Orders were immediately given for the east-coast defences to be on the qui vive, and for the Nore, Harwich, Rosyth, and Dundee flotillas of destroyers and submarines to put to sea.
Dawn was just breaking when the belated German seaplanes came in sight of the leading British vidette boats from Harwich. The aircraft, battling against the furious wind, were rocking and pitching so much that the attention of their pilots was directed towards the maintenance of stability.
Presently one of the German seaplanes dropped a bomb. It exploded harmlessly at a distance of more than two hundred yards from the British destroyerLynx.
From that moment all doubts as to the intentions of the aerial fleet were set at rest. The destroyers instantly opened fire, and, in spite of the high seas that were running, made excellent results. Whether the seaplanes were two hundred or two thousand feet in the air their destruction was no less certain; few could resist the explosion of the highly charged shrapnel. It was, to use the words of a first-class petty officer, "like knocking over a lot of partridges".
In ten minutes the few aircraft that still escaped damage turned tail and fled before the wind.
The seaplanes detailed to operate on the Scottish coasts fared no better, but in the case of those operating against the Tyne ports a small success fell to their share, though more by accident than by design.
Within recent years powerful batteries had been erected at Cullercoats, Tynemouth, North Shields, and Frenchman's Bay for the defence of the Tyne, and at Roker and Hendon Hill for the protection of Sunderland. These either superseded the previously ill-armed batteries or were on entirely new sites. For purposes of mobilization they were entrusted to the Tynemouth Territorials of the Royal Garrison Artillery, who held the honour of being first in precedence of all the several groups of this branch of the Service.
Upon the hasty though not unexpected order for mobilization these men nobly responded to the call. Many of them, summoned from their work in the great shipbuilding yards, had no time to don their uniforms, but they could shoot none the worse on that account.
At exactly a quarter past four, just as the sun was breaking above a bank of clouds, the first hostile seaplane was sighted by the gunners of the Cullercoats Battery.
The German airmen had already realized that, owing to the climatic conditions, all attempt to deliver a surprise attack was hopeless. But their orders were definite. There was to be no turning back.
To a certain extent their method of attack was better planned than those of their ill-fated detachments, who were already either destroyed or in full flight. They flew high and with a great space between the pairs of units. Moreover, with the sun well behind them, they offered a difficult target to the British gunners.
The nearest hostile seaplane was actually immediately above the lighthouse at the end of the North Pier of Tynemouth harbour when a twelve-pounder shell from the Cullercoats Battery struck her. In the twinkling of an eye the graceful bird-like machine was literally blown to atoms, the explosion of her petrol tanks throwing out spurts of lurid flame out of which fragments of the ill-fated craft fell with unequal velocity into the sea.
Undeterred by this catastrophe, the second aeroplane, travelling through the air at a rate of seventy miles an hour, passed over the South Pier. Several times she swayed ominously in the air currents set up by the projectiles which screeched within a few feet of the swiftly-moving target.
Now she was within the line of batteries and immediately above the most congested quarter of South Shields. It seemed as if nothing could prevent the seaplane from working havoc upon the crowded shipping between Tynemouth and Newcastle. Men, women, and children crowded into the streets, gazing in blank astonishment at the sight of a hostile aircraft making ready for its work of destruction. Tales of probable invasion had for years past fallen upon deaf ears; now that the actual danger was apparent they could not realize it.
They were not long left in doubt. The seaplane slowed down, and, descending to less than four hundred feet, dropped two bombs in quick succession. No doubt these were intended for the petroleum tanks owned by the Tyne Commissioners. Both missiles went wide of the mark. The first struck and destroyed a Russian timber barque moored at the jetty; the second demolished the best part of a row of houses, and started a disastrous fire that, before it was extinguished, laid bare nearly an eighth of South Shields.
Following the course of the river the seaplane flew onwards. Four hundred feet beneath her lay the locks of Tyne dock, the great commercial basin controlled by the North-Eastern Railway Company, and which, in time of war, would form the principal coaling and oil-fuel base for British destroyers obliged to replenish their bunkers and tanks in the Tyne.
At this juncture two companies of the 7th Battalion of the Durham Light Infantry were on their way from their drill hall. Luckily they were armed and provided with ball ammunition, and without hesitation the officer in command ordered them to open fire. It was realized that the danger of the bullets falling to earth was less than the peril from the bombs of the modern terror of the skies. Soon the sharp crackle of musketry began.
Several times the seaplane was struck, but without serious result, till without warning one of her wings appeared to crumple up. Round and round spun the stricken craft, dropping rapidly towards the ground, with her propellers still buzzing at a furious rate. "Cease fire!" came the order, and with bated breath the Territorials watched the result of their work.
Presently the downward fall was retarded. One of the crew of the seaplane had released the umbrella-like parachute. Nose downwards the stricken craft continued to plunge; only by means of leathern straps were the ill-fated Germans prevented from being thrown clear of the wreckage.
Ever so slowly it seemed to the watchers did the seaplane fall, till, with a dull crash, the framework struck an open space between the dock office and the buildings of the chemical works.
The crash was instantly followed by the petrol taking fire, while above the hiss of the flames could be heard the shrieks of the luckless Germans who were unable to disentangle themselves from the wreckage.
No longer were they looked upon as enemies; they were human beings in peril. The "Terriers", dropping their rifles, began to run to the aid of the burning airmen, but before the foremost got within a hundred yards of the wreckage a tremendous explosion sent most of the men over like ninepins. The remaining bombs that had survived the impact of the fall had exploded, and when the would-be rescuers approached the scene of the disaster they found a hole nearly twenty feet in diameter and six feet deep blown out of the ground.
Another seaplane, winged by the gunners of the Spanish battery—where two seven-pounders of a modern type had only recently been mounted—fell into the sea off Freestone Point. Her crew were promptly rescued and captured by the coastguards, and the damaged seaplane was dragged ashore in triumph.
As for the other hostile aircraft menacing the Tyne ports, not one came near enough to make use of its powerful means of offence. Many were destroyed; the rest, realizing the hopelessness of the task, turned and flew towards the coast of Germany.
Nor did the German submarines and destroyers meet with any better luck.
Five of the latter succeeded in entering the Firth of Forth, but none got within striking distance of the four British super-Dreadnoughts lying with steam up off Rosyth. The vigilant swift third-class cruisers attached to that base quickly settled the destroyers as they pitched and plunged against the steep seas off the Bass Rock.
In every other case the detachments of the German destroyers were met and overmatched by the superior numbers and greater seaworthiness of the British craft. Had the German seaplanes rallied and supported their destroyers during the hot conflict that ensued the result might have been different. But they did not. Once more, as in times past, the elements came to the aid of Great Britain. The surprise attacks had signally failed. It was now left to the British Navy to seek out the German battleships, and once and for all to settle the question of supremacy on the high seas.
At9 a.m. on the same morning as the surprise attack by the German "mosquito craft", two squadrons of the First Home Fleet left the Nore. The flag of the Commander-in-chief, Admiral Sir Noel Armitage, was flown on theRoyal Sovereign, one of the latest type of super-Dreadnoughts, a vessel mounting eight fifteen-inch guns on the centre line and a secondary armament of sixteen six-inch guns.
It was Sir Noel's plan to bring the German High Seas fleet to action, and should, as he devoutly hoped, the British be victorious, a general attack upon Borkum and Heligoland would follow. It was on account of his knowledge of the latter fortress that Sub-Lieutenant John Hamerton was appointed to theRoyal Sovereignas a supernumerary.
The heavy sea had somewhat subsided, although there was a long roll that is rarely met with in the North Sea. The wind, too, had dropped considerably as the sun rose, but the atmosphere was thick and hazy, so that it was impossible to detect a vessel more than a mile off.
Although not so bad as a sea-fog, the climatic conditions made all fleet evolutions a kind of exaggerated blindman's buff. The light cruisers and destroyers, spread out fanwise for several miles ahead of the battleships, could hardly live up to their reputation as the "eyes of the fleet", since it was only by stumbling across one of their antagonists that they could detect their presence.
Under these circumstances Sir Noel wisely decided to remain within easy distance of the mouth of the Thames. By proceeding far from his base it would be possible that the German battleships and battle-cruisers might slip past unseen and do enormous damage to the East Coast before he could offer them battle. Every hour meant the shorter distance between him and the Mediterranean Fleet, that, hastily summoned by wireless, was pelting along at twenty-two knots from Gibraltar.
On the other hand, the Germans were also ignorant of the precise position of their antagonists. They would vastly prefer to fight—now that the initial operations had failed—within easy distance of the mouths of the Elbe and Weser. If the worst came to the worst they could then pass their battleships through the Kaiser Wilhelm Canal into the comparative safety of the Baltic, and rely upon their torpedo craft, submarines, and mines to keep the enemy at bay. But for the present the Germans had no fears on that score. The fighting spirit ran high, and the officers and men of the High Seas Fleet confidently regarded that "The Day" was at hand when British arrogance should receive a fatal blow.
Once again the German officials' plan went awry. Instead of the British giving battle, as they expected, Sir Noel Armitage remained close to the Nore. Not only was the Mediterranean Fleet about to join forces with the Home Fleet, but a powerful United States squadron was on its way from the rendezvous off Cape Hatteras to operate with the British in the North Sea. Thus, before the comparatively weak force under Sir Noel's command could be crushed, there was a possibility of an overwhelming predominance of Anglo-American ships appearing in German waters.
Then it was that the German Admiral, Von Walsdorf, decided to take a bold and risky step. He detached three armoured cruisers and eleven ocean-going destroyers—a force he could ill afford to dispense with—and sent them via the north of the Orkneys to prey upon the shipping and comparatively unprotected ports on the west coast of Great Britain. Once these vessels avoided the British destroyers at Scapa Flow there was little risk of capture, while the moral damage they would be able to inflict would outvie the enormous actual damage done in a very short space of time.
Then, finding the British Fleet, as he thought, inactive, Von Walsdorf led his battleships and the remainder of his armoured cruisers towards the mouth of the Thames.
It was just before noon on the following day that theRoyal Sovereignreceived a wireless from the fast cruiserBeresfordannouncing that she had sighted the German fleet in lat. 52° 1', long. 2° 50' E., steering south-west. The cruiser had, in fact, been chased and fired upon by two of the enemy's armoured cruisers, but owing to her superior speed she eluded them without sustaining damage.
By means of a code-text message the British admiral satisfied himself that theBeresford'swireless information was authentic. This was necessary, since there was the possibility of the cruiser falling into the enemy's hands and a deluding message being sent by her captors, purporting to come from the British vessel.
Majestically the British fleet advanced, steaming in double columns, line ahead, with the "small fry" on either flank. The ships, cleared for action, looked the very embodiment of latent strength and invulnerability, the only dash of colour about them being the white ensigns fluttering proudly in the breeze, the St. George's crosses of the various admirals, and the occasional hoist of bunting to communicate an order to the various ships.
Hamerton's post was with Sir Noel Armitage in the conning tower, the most vulnerable of the armoured parts of the ship; vulnerable because it is a matter of impossibility for the officer working the ship to be completely shut in. He must be able to see what is going on, and the smallest slit in those massive armoured walls will admit a white-hot sliver of steel from a bursting shell, while the conning tower is the favourite mark for the hostile gunners.
Until the German fleet actually hove in sight Sir Noel preferred to remain with his staff upon the bridge. It was a magnificent sight to look astern and see the double line of steel monsters, leaden-coloured themselves, ploughing through the leaden-coloured water, each vessel following with mathematical precision in the wake of the one next ahead until the rearmost ships were lost in the haze.
Hardly a word was spoken by the officers on the bridge of the flagship. For his part Hamerton felt a peculiar indescribable sensation that caused a dryness of the lips and tongue. It was not fear; it was a kind of conjecture, trying to bring himself to realize that he was going into action for the first time of his life, to participate in the greatest naval battle that the world had yet seen.
Every now and again a messenger would come running up the bridge ladder with a "wireless" report. The admiral and the captain, and perhaps the flag-lieutenant would converse in low tones, generally ending in an expressive shrug of the shoulders. Wireless messages reporting the near approach of the German battleships were arriving with monotonous frequency.
Suddenly a dull roar came from the invisible haze away to the eastward. The protected cruisers and destroyers on the flank of the approaching fleet were hotly engaged.
Giving a final glance at the vessels astern Sir Noel entered the conning tower, followed by the captain, flag-lieutenant, Hamerton, and a midshipman. Already the limited space was occupied by a yeoman of signals and a quartermaster, while at the head of the steel ladder inside the armoured pipe that communicated with the engine-room telegraph and steering-wheel compartment beneath the armoured deck appeared the head and shoulders of another yeoman of signals, whose duty it was to transmit orders should the electrical gear be thrown out of order.
Hamerton could see nothing. The admiral had taken up his stand at the slit commanding a view ahead, the captain and the flag-lieutenant had also appropriated a similar means of outlook. Hamerton and the midshipman were perforce compelled to stand inactive, not knowing what was going on, since no word was spoken by the officers on the look-out.
Presently the Sub saw by the indicator, and also felt, that the flagship was turning to port, an example that was followed by every ship on both sides. The leading vessels of the German fleet had been sighted, and the alteration in course was to enable the whole broadsides of fifteen-inch guns to be brought to bear upon the enemy.
Then with a roar and a concussion that shook the ship the big guns were discharged. Almost immediately came a deafening crash overhead. TheRoyal Sovereignhad received her baptism of fire. A huge shell from the German flagship had struck the roof of the superimposed turret, glanced up, and utterly demolished the bridge. A waft of acrid-smelling smoke drifted into the conning tower, making the occupants cough and splutter like men subject to asthma.
After that the firing became general, each heavy gun being discharged as fast as the automatic rammer could thrust home the giant projectiles and the breechblocks could be closed. Between the deafening roars of the fifteen-inch guns came the quicker, though hardly less ear-splitting reports of the secondary armament—the six-inch guns in various armoured casements on the main deck and other parts of the ship.
All the while came the titanic sledge-hammer blows of the enemy's shells, accompanied by the rending of steel, the crash of falling masses of metal, and—far too frequently—the shrieks of men torn by the fragments of bursting projectiles in spite of the best protection that human ingenuity could provide.
Hamerton felt perfectly calm and collected now. The first blow had banished the burning sensation in his throat, although, did he but know it, his face was streaming with perspiration and streaked with dust from the exploded cordite charges.
Both fleets were now on parallel courses, hammering at each other at less than a mile apart. It is all very well to assert that the modern naval battle will be decided at eight to ten thousand yards range: the atmospheric conditions have to be taken into account, and this battle off Galloper Sands was fought in a haze that is more frequent than otherwise in the North Sea.
All order was now at an end. It was impossible for the ships to keep their stations. Already some were sinking, and others forced to haul out of line owing to serious damage; while there was hardly one of the vessels, which a bare quarter of an hour before were as taut and trim as a naval officer could desire, that looked little better than a mass of floating scrap iron. Almost everything that could be shot away had disappeared before the terrible force of the heavy shells, till it seemed a wonder that a single ship could remain afloat.
Of all this Hamerton saw nothing. He was waiting. It was his duty to wait till ordered to do something.
Presently the admiral wheeled abruptly.
"See what is wrong with the for'ard starboard six-inch," he said abruptly. The voice tube and electric wires communicating with that particular casemate were long out of action.
Hamerton saluted, and promptly descended the ladder to the deck beneath the waterline. Half a dozen anxious pairs of eyes asked mute questions. The Sub could only shake his head; he knew nothing.
Along a passage beneath the protected steel deck he made his way. Below, the ship appeared in normal condition. Everything below the waterline was practically intact, except that the concussion had broken every electric lamp in the ship, broken glass littering every square foot of space.
It was only by means of this passage and one more that direct means of communication could be maintained from one end of the ship to the other. TheRoyal Sovereignwas built with three longitudinal bulkheads, extending from the keel plates to the upper deck, and completely separating the port engine-room from the starboard. In addition there were numerous transverse bulkheads, in which all watertight doors had been closed at the beginning of the action. Every man on board, save a very few, was encased in a steel box that might prove his tomb.
At the head of the ladder communicating with the main deck Hamerton crept under the flexible-steel splinter net. He was now well above waterline, and in a part of the ship only protected by fairly thin side armour. The space 'tween decks was filled with a pungent, yellowish vapour, pierced here and there by shafts of light that entered by means of huge jagged holes in the ship's side. The deck resembled an ironfounder's store, pieces of bent, twisted, and shattered steel lying in all directions and positions.
Something prompted the Sub to bend his back and run as hard as he could to the door of the casemate. Afterwards he wondered why he did, for had a shell entered and burst just as he was making his way along that part of the deck, stooping down would not have made any difference.
Seizing the gunmetal catch of the armoured door the Sub strove to turn it. Then he became aware that the metal was hot. He placed his hand against the steel door; there the heat was unbearable. Picking up a piece of iron bar Hamerton inserted it in the handle, and by a powerful lever-like motion succeeded in turning the catch. The door flew open, and the Sub leapt backwards, nearly overcome by a blast of hot and fetid air.
One glance was sufficient. A small shell had entered the casemate by the gap between the chase of the gun and the shield, and had exploded, killing every man of the crew of the six-inch. There was no escape. Those who were not slain by the direct explosion were killed by the fragments of metal ricochetting from the steel walls. The place was nothing less than a charnel house.
Then it was that the Sub knew why the admiral had sent him to investigate, for amongst the slain was Sir Noel's youngest son, a midshipman fresh from his two years' course on a training cruiser.
Putting his hand over his eyes as he vainly tried to shut out the mental vision of the annihilated gun's crew, Hamerton reeled away. Just as he gained the foot of the ladder to the conning tower a tremendous concussion, greater even than the impact of the huge shells, shook the ship. It seemed as if the twenty-five thousand tons of deadweight was lifted vertically for quite a foot.
The Sub exchanged glances with the lieutenant standing by the submerged steering wheel.
"Torpedoed," exclaimed the officer laconically. Up the fifty feet of vertical ladder Hamerton hastened. At the top he paused abruptly. The conning tower was filled with dense smoke. The admiral lay propped against the armoured walls with his forehead cut from temple to temple by a sliver of steel. The flag-lieutenant was down, slain by a fragment of the same shell that had killed his chief, while the captain, pale as a sheet, was supporting himself by the partly-shattered binnacle. Only the two petty officers remained unwounded, though completely dazed by the concussion.
"Glad you've come," said the captain weakly. "Pass the word for the commander. We must haul out of line. Tell him to take what steps he thinks——"
The captain's words trailed off into an unmeaning sentence, his head dropped on his chest, and he sank unconscious beside the body of the ill-fated admiral.
By the time the commander reached the conning tower theRoyal Sovereignhad automatically dropped out of station. A torpedo, fired by a badly shattered German warship, thePommern, had struck her a few feet forward of the sternpost, shattering both rudders and the two starboard propellers. A few feet farther forward and nothing could have saved her from total destruction, for the powerful Schwartz-Kopff would have blown a hole large enough for a carriage to pass completely through her double skin. As it was, the after flats were completely flooded, and the flagship was deeply down by the stern.
At this juncture the engines were stopped, and screened from the enemy's fire by theRepulse, that gallantly intervened, theRoyal Sovereignlost way when about two miles to the west of the first division of the British fleet.
Already the battle was decided. Superior numbers and gunnery won the day in spite of the frequent use of torpedoes by the Germans. Several of the British ships had, indeed, narrow escapes from these sinister and powerful weapons, for the range was an ideal one. Only the furious and accurate gunnery of the British ships and the speed of the two opposing fleets prevented the torpedoes from doing greater damage, for it was afterwards ascertained that in almost every case the concussion of the heavy shells destroyed all communication between the conning towers and the submerged torpedo-rooms of the various German ships.
Now, for the first time since the commencement of the action, Hamerton was able to see what was going on without. Thank God! All around were British and German ships flying the good old White Ensign—ships no longer, but merely battered and shattered masses of steel. Away in the haze firing was still being maintained in a desultory manner, but of the issue of the conflict there could be no doubt.
Suddenly an exclamation from a marine officer attracted Hamerton's attention. Following the direction of the officer's outstretched hand the Sub looked. At less than half a mile off lay theOrion. She was rolling sluggishly, owing to the immense weight and height above the waterline of her ten 13.5-inch guns. Although every unarmoured part of her above the side plating was either shot away or riddled, the rolling revealed the fact that below the waterline she was practically intact.
She was settling down on an even keel. The survivors of her crew were vainly attempting to check the inrush of water by means of collision mats, while those of her pumps which were still in a fit condition for use were engaged in throwing out large streams of water.
Then, even as Hamerton looked, theOrionceased to recover herself. Her gigantic bulk turned slowly over to starboard till she capsized completely, and floated with her keel only a few feet above the water.
Those of her crew who were on deck were able for the most part to jump overboard. In some cases men ran up the side and gained a temporary refuge on the flat-sectioned bilges, while, seeing what had occurred, several destroyers hastened to the rescue.
Not a boat was to be found on any of the battleships and cruisers, save a few canvas collapsibles stowed under the armoured decks before the action began. Everything of a buoyant nature that was in danger of taking fire had either been left at the home dockyards or ruthlessly thrown overboard. In a modern battleship cleared for action there is no use for life-saving apparatus, however desirable it may be after the conflict is over.
Many of the swimmers of theOrion'screw were rescued by the destroyers, but before those clinging to the capsized battleship could be rescued, the compressed air within the hull burst through the comparatively thin steel plating with a roar like the explosion of a magazine. Amid a smother of foam the luckless vessel plunged to the bed of the North Sea.
This disaster was merely a repetition of the experiments made on the oldEmpress of Indiain 1913. In both cases the vessel was practically undamaged beneath the armoured deck, while the water was freely admitted above that particular deck. The result was that the stability of the vessel was completely disturbed, and the battleship capsized.
All around the sorely-strickenRoyal Sovereignwere equally badly-mauled vessels making temporary repairs. The captured German warships, numbering nine, had to be taken possession of by men swimming from the nearest British battleship. This done, Sir George Maynebrace, who had taken supreme command upon the death of Admiral Sir Noel Armitage, ordered those vessels that were no longer seaworthy to be destroyed, while the others were either taken in tow or proceeded under their own steam for the mouth of the Thames.
It was a matter of impossibility for the British admiral to follow up his advantage. So badly knocked about were the British battleships that they would be unable to attack the German fortified bases in the North Sea. All that could be done was to wait for the Mediterranean Fleet, mobilize the battleships in reserve, and join forces with the American squadron. Although the supremacy of the sea was decided, a hard task still remained ere the fierce and sanguinary struggle could be brought to an end.
Ata modest seven knots the batteredRoyal Sovereignwallowed in tow in the wake of theBarham. It seemed wonderful that she should have survived the ordeal, for in places the massive armour plates had been completely knocked away. Her bows were level with the water, while the whole of her quarter deck had been blown in by a bomb dropped from a German seaplane.
Almost the last shot fired at her by her principal antagonist, the giganticBreslau, had hit the chase of one of the fifteen-inch guns in the second turret from the bows. The huge mass of metal had fractured, while the muzzle, falling upon the barbette next ahead and slightly below, had prevented both barbettes from being trained. Thus one shot had practically put four fifteen-inch guns out of action.
Wherever a heavy shell had struck against armour the latter had been made nearly red-hot, and for an hour or more after the fight it was almost impossible to place a hand on the heated metal.
image: seaplane
image: seaplane
[Illustration: "A SEAPLANE CONTRIVED TO DROP A BOMB ON THEROYAL SOVEREIGN'SDECK"]
[Illustration: "A SEAPLANE CONTRIVED TO DROP A BOMB ON THEROYAL SOVEREIGN'SDECK"]
The use of aerial craft above the fighting battleships was very limited during the action. Thanks to the preponderance of seaplanes, the British were able to keep the German aircraft well at a distance. The only noteworthy exception was the seaplane which contrived to drop a bomb on theRoyal Sovereign'sdeck. She did not live to repeat the experiment, for a fragment of a German eleven-inch shell, ricochetting from the hood of theRoyal Sovereign'safter barbette, flew vertically upward for a height of nearly three hundred feet, literally cutting the daring seaplane in halves.
Nor did the submarines prove their vaunted merits. Detected from the British aircraft, these sinister vessels stood very little chance. Even had they come within striking distance it is doubtful whether they would not have damaged friend as well as foe, for in the disorder in the formation of the two fleets, and in the dense haze that enveloped them in less than a minute after the first broadside, it was a difficult matter to distinguish one ship from another.
Had the action taken place at night the submarine would doubtless have played an important part in deciding the battle.
Superiority in numbers of light-armoured cruisers and destroyers, combined with the coolness and precision of the men at the quick-firers, enabled the British to make short work of the German "mosquito fleet", although the former did not come out of the action without heavy loss. Nevertheless there was still the danger that some of the least-damaged German destroyers might again attempt a night attack upon the East Coast. Great were the rejoicings in Great Britain at the victory. They were not extravagant outbursts of joy, but heartfelt expressions of thankfulness that the great ordeal had been successfully passed. The imminent danger, made apparent by the damage done at South Shields, had taught a national lesson, while the great victory had been bought at a tremendous price in human lives—the sacrifice at the altar of maritime supremacy.
Directly theRoyal Sovereigncrept into the Nore she was ordered round to Portsmouth, since the dockyards of Chatham and Sheerness were quite unable to cope with the work of refitting any but the least-damaged ships. Towed by theBarham, and escorted by two destroyers, the crippled vessel reached Spithead, and was taken into harbour and docked without delay. The surviving officers and crew were at once turned over to the obsolescent battleshipCollingwood, the flagship of the Eighth Battle Squadron.
Five days later the combined Anglo-American fleet left the Nore. Off the Texel the fleet was divided—the major portion to operate against Heligoland and the remainder to destroy, if possible, the defences of Borkum. All the United States' battleships were in the division detailed for the bombardment of Heligoland, since officers and men were actuated by the knowledge that an American citizen was still a prisoner in that island fortress.
It was a case of hasten slowly. The shallows around the mouths of the Elbe and Weser were admirably suited to the use of submarine mines, while every "gat" between the extensive sandbanks could be used by German torpedo craft. Local knowledge was a great factor in favour of the Teutonic torpedo craft.
It was with curious feelings that Hamerton looked once more upon the red, white, and green island of Heligoland. Only a short time back he was there a captive; now he was about to witness a demonstration of naval might and power against the heavily defended batteries that a diplomatic mistake on the part of Great Britain had raised into existence.
Admiral Maynebrace had done Hamerton the honour of asking his opinion, and, thanks to the Sub's knowledge, he was able to arrange his plans accordingly. The batteries on the south-western side of the island were to be left severely alone. Sandinsel was the key of the position. Once its guns were silenced the reduction of Heligoland would be a matter of course. Sir George, therefore, ordered the mine-creeping vessels—subsidized steam "drifters"—to advance under cover of the battle cruisers and clear away the mines to the north-east and south-east of Heligoland.
This was a hazardous duty, for the vessels engaged in the work were open to a torpedo attack from the destroyers either from the Heligoland base or from the mouths of the Elbe, Eider, Weser, and Jade. In the wake of the mine-creepers came the battleships, with torpedo nets out, so as to be prepared for an attack by the long-range Schwartz-Kopff locomotive torpedoes.
To add to the difficulties, the Germans had already removed all buoys and navigation marks, so that the ships had to be continuously making use of the lead line.
Directly night fell the battleships and battle cruisers steamed westwards with screened lights, so as to be safe from destroyer and submarine attack, leaving the British small craft to cope with any demonstration from the numerous German torpedo bases. Thus the nerve-racking ordeal of momentarily expecting an unseen blow was spared the already sorely taxed crews of the armoured fleet.
But what the battleships missed the destroyers had more than a full share of. Triple lines of these vessels patrolled the sea between the position where the Weser lightship was formerly stationed and that of the Rittergat light buoy. The destroyers on the flank kept their searchlights trained outwards in a horizontal position well abeam, while those in the centre line used their searchlights for the purpose of locating any hostile aircraft.
In spite of these precautions four of the British torpedo craft were sunk by German submarines without the former having a glimpse of their foes.
Before daybreak the battleships were back in their former stations, the American ships taking up a position to the north-east of Sandinsel, while the twenty-eight armoured British battleships directed their fire upon the Düne and East Kalbertan batteries of the same island. The destroyers were grouped into three divisions—the first to be attached to the United States ships in case of a hostile movement from North Haven; the second to lie three miles astern of the British battleships engaged in bombarding Sandinsel, so as to guard against a torpedo attack from South Haven; the third detailed to watch the mainland.
Exactly at eight in the morning the American flagshipWyomingopened the ball by planting a fifteen-inch shell fairly in the centre of the Krid Brunnen Battery. An enormous cloud of sand, smoke, and dust, mingled with heavier fragments, followed the explosion. It looked as if the magazine had been blown up, but a smart reply from the battery showed that this was not so.
The firing now became general, and the concentrated shells of the combined fleet literally' rained upon the Sandinsel forts. It seemed as if nothing could survive the terrible explosions of the heavy missiles, but with commendable pluck the German gunners stood to their task. Several of their shells struck the battleships, doing considerable damage, but the effect on board did not approach the carnage of the battle of the Galloper Sands. Nor was it to be wondered at, since the enemy had to spread their fire over a five-mile line of warships, while the latter were able to concentrate their guns upon a comparatively limited and immovable target.
In three hours from the time theWyomingfirst opened fire the East Kalbertan, Krid Brunnen, and Düne batteries were silenced, and the British and American ships were able to direct their attention to the weaker West Kalbertan Battery and the torpedo flotillas sheltering between Heligoland and Sandinsel.
This they could do with comparative impunity, for with the exception of four fifteen-inch guns, mounted on the north-east side of Heligoland, the defensive armament consisted of lighter guns intended for use against torpedo craft.
The large guns were soon out of action. The hail of heavy shells knocked vast quantities of rock from the soft sandstone cliffs. In half an hour the damage was greater than the erosion of half a century. The emplacements, undermined by the fall of rock, were soon unmasked and rendered untenable.
But the German destroyers were not going to be sunk in harbour. Profiting by the haze of burnt cordite that enveloped the bombarding ships, thirty of these swift craft slipped out of South Haven. It was a forlorn hope, and nothing short of destruction awaited them, but before the end they meant to strike a heavy blow for the Fatherland.
Steaming at close on thirty-five knots, the devoted craft headed straight for the nearest British battleships—a distance of four miles from the south-east of Heligoland.
More than half the intervening space was covered before the threatened attack was noticed by the British flagship. A signal was instantly made for the light cruisers and destroyers in reserve to intercept the approaching hostile craft. Already it was too late. Only the light quick-firers of the British battleships could keep the enemy at bay.
In response to a general signal the huge warships turned eight points to starboard. That meant that instead of keeping broadside on to the forts they were steaming away from them. Hampered by their torpedo nets the manoeuvre was slowly executed, but each warship now presented a much smaller target to the German torpedoes, while there was more room between the battleships for the British destroyers to operate.
Temporarily the big-gun fire ceased. The sharp barks of the quick-firers resounded on all sides. Through the maelstrom of twelve-pounder shells the German destroyers tore. Several swung out of line, disabled and on the point of sinking; but the surviving vessels, admirably handled, avoided their stricken consorts and continued the headlong rush.
Then, acting smartly in response to a signal from the leading boat, the remaining destroyers ported helm sufficiently for the deck torpedo tubes to bear, and almost simultaneously thirty deadly Schwartz-Kopff weapons tore on their mission of destruction.
It was impossible for everyone to miss the mark. The sea was ruffled with the foam of the swiftly-travelling weapons. Some, exploding the nets, tore great rents in the meshes and unshipped or shattered the massive steel booms supporting the best anti-torpedo device that naval architects could devise. Others, following in their wake, struck home underneath the armoured plating of the battleships.
Explosion after explosion, outvieing the crack of the quick-firers, rose in the air. Huge vessels, mortally stricken, rolled sluggishly under the impact. Mingled with the din came the cheers of the exultant Germans. It was a modernized form of the old gladiatorial shout: "Hail, Caesar, those about to die salute thee"; for the cheers were those of doomed men.
Tearing betwixt the battleships came the British destroyers like wolves upon a sheepfold. This phase of action became a mêlée. In several cases the British craft, charging their opponents at full speed, literally cut these latter in twain. It was but another of those instances when, in the heat of battle, men neither ask nor expect quarter. Only four German boats, badly damaged, were able to regain a temporary and insecure shelter under the lee of Sandinsel.
Nevertheless they had struck a hard blow. TheBellerophon, hit thrice in quick succession, had sunk; theAjaxandAgamemnonwere listing heavily, only their watertight bulkheads abaft the engine-rooms preventing them from going to the bottom. For offensive purposes they were now utterly useless. TheCenturionandFormidable, having lost their rudders and propellers, had to be taken in tow, and sent, escorted by the battle cruisersImpregnableandInflexible, to add to the congested state of the British dockyards.
Nothing daunted by these misfortunes the rest of the allied fleet maintained a hot fire. By five in the afternoon the east of the batteries of Sandinsel ceased to reply. The docks, factories and stores, and shipping on the east of Heligoland were either destroyed or in flames. The attack upon the island could now be pushed home.
Contrary to expectations the Zeppelins made no attempt to emerge from their place of concealment. It afterwards transpired that, more by accident than design, two heavy shells had simultaneously burst in the great artificial crater into which the airship sheds opened. The explosions were sufficient to wreck completely the three Zeppelins lying in the lofty caves.
As night fell the battleships made for the offing, while the British destroyers and light cruisers took the same precautions against attack as before.
At daybreak the bombardment was resumed. The Sandinsel batteries, having effected temporary repairs during the hours of darkness, reopened fire, but so feebly that in less than twenty minutes there was no reply to the British guns. The American warships, closing in from the north-east, directed their attention to the lighter batteries on the cliff side of Heligoland, and occasionally to shelling the barracks and searchlight station on the plateau. The British devoted their energies to the Sathurn battery and the southern portion of the island, sparing as far as possible the houses of the Unterland.
At ten minutes past nine a tremendous explosion shook the air. One of theKentucky'sshells had struck the principal magazine. The concussion and the fire that followed caused the vast oil reservoirs to ignite, and in a few moments the whole of the central portion of the rock seemed one mass of flames.
More feeble grew the reply of the German guns, and at noon the island fortress of Heligoland capitulated, without one shot being fired from the more powerful batteries on the south-western side, to which no vessel belonging to the allies had offered a chance for a single discharge.
Heligoland, the mailed menace to Great Britain, had fallen.
* * * * *
* * * * *
As soon as the German flag was lowered from the captured island five hundred British and American marines were landed to take possession of the fire-swept rock that was but recently the pride of the Teutonic Empire.
Lieutenant Hamerton was one of the few naval officers to set foot ashore, but at his earnest request he was given permission to seek out his old comrade Detroit.
It was with feelings of elation that the young officer stood once more upon the stone jetty where but a few weeks previously he had been ignominiously escorted by a file of German marines. Now he was given a salute by a stalwart British marine who had been promptly posted at the head of the steps.
On his way to the Oberland—Hamerton had to walk, since the lift had been damaged during the bombardment—the Sub passed a party of German officers who were about to put off to the British flagship to satisfy the terms of the capitulation. One of them he recognized as Major Karl von Schloss.
Both men gravely saluted each other, then Hamerton advanced and held out his hand. The major took it without hesitation. He was one of many who, however bitter the defeat, took in the situation with becoming mien and grace. Hamerton bore him no ill feeling. True, Von Schloss had acted harshly to him when he was a prisoner, but the major really believed that the Sub was a British spy.
"Where is my friend, Detroit?" asked Hamerton.
"He is safe," replied Von Schloss. "Before the firing commenced he was taken to the church, since we knew that would not be a mark for your guns."
"One more question, Herr Major; where is the commandant?"
"He is dead," replied Von Schloss, with evident emotion. "He fell during the bombardment."
Gravely Hamerton raised his right hand to the salute. His former enemy had given up his life on the altar of duty, a victim to his misguided efforts to further the interests of the Fatherland.
"I am sorry," he said.
"There is no need," rejoined Major von Schloss. "General von Wittelsbach died as he wished, in the defence of a charge entrusted to him by the Kaiser. Believe me, he would never have survived the humiliation. But now, Herr Hamerton, I bid you farewell."
Both men shook hands and parted, the major hurrying after his companions, while the Sub wended his way towards the old church.
A number of armed German marines stood without the weatherbeaten fane. They were stationed there to guard various prisoners who had been hastily removed from the barrack prison at the commencement of the attack.
But before Hamerton could approach and make known the nature of his mission a well-known voice hailed him from one of the narrow windows of the tower.
"Hallo, old man! So they've let you out? Guess it's about time I thought about moving. I guess you weren't long in getting into uniform."
"Considering I haven't taken off my things for the last three days I cannot agree with you," replied the Sub, with a hearty laugh. "I've come to bring you out of this, Detroit, so the sooner you come down from your perch the better."
"I reckon I've had a rotten time," remarked Detroit, as the two friends made their way to the shore. "But it's worth it," he added enthusiastically. "To look out of that window and to see the Yankee eagle and the British lion knocking spots off the German was the finest sight in creation."
Hamerton shrugged his shoulders. He was thinking of the carnage that had been wrought on both sides ere "the finest sight in creation" was completed.
"Yes," he said slowly, "I suppose it was. The onlookers always see the best of the game."