On the afternoon of 7 January the Artigliere in company with the Garibaldino and protected cruiser Piemonte, found the enemy ships anchored at Al Qunfidhah. The Italians did not know it, but they were more or less stranded there having run short of coal. The supply vessel carrying their fuel, the Kaiserieh, had been masquerading as a hospital ship flying the Red Crescent, and had been stopped by the Puglia on 16 December. Upon boarding the ship however, the Italians could find no sign of any hospital beds or other medical provisions or arrangements, merely a cargo of coal. Accordingly the ship was taken as a prize.
Italian East Africa and the Red Sea. The Italian naval contingent in the Red Sea was reinforced in January 1912 with four modern destroyers. These vessels were deployed because of intelligence reports that the Ottoman Navy was attempting to redeploy a number of its ships from the Persian Gulf into the area. The Italians were seemingly concerned that these might be used to transport Ottoman troops across the mostly modern, the Ottoman ships hardly constituted a formidable force, being small gunboats in the main. Several Ottoman ports were subjected to naval bombardment, but there were no battles worthy of the name. (© Charles Blackwood).
The Artigliere opened fire on the Ottoman ships, which replied as best they could, assisted by the shore defences. The engagement, which was quickly joined by the Piemonte and Garibaldino, took place at fairly long range, about 4500-6000 metres, giving the advantage to the larger Italian guns. After some three hours firing, the entire Ottoman flotilla had been sunk, run aground or, in the case of the ipka, scuttled, whilst the shore defences were silenced. The Italians landed the next morning, completed the destruction of the three beached gunboats, and refloated the ipka, which they were able to tow off as a prize.
With these last remnants of Ottoman naval power in the area destroyed, Italian naval action was restricted to bombarding the easily accessible ports; Al-Aqabah (Aqaba, Akaba), Jabanah (Djebana), Cheikh Saïd (Sheik Said), Mocha (Mocca) and Midi (Midy).2 A blockade was also declared from 24 January along the Ottoman coast on the Red Sea, stretching a distance of some 75 kilometres on each side of Al Hudaydah (Hodeida). Neutral vessels would be given five days in which to clear from the blockaded ports.
Neutral ships had been stopped by the Italians before the blockade came into being. One such was the Africa, a British registered vessel. On 20 January she was intercepted by Volturno en route from Al Hudaydah to Aden and a boarding party discovered twelve Ottoman officers aboard, including the distinguished Colonel Riza Bey. They were taken prisoner and removed from the ship. On 23 January the Österreichischer Lloyd vessel Bregenz was stopped and again a number of Ottoman officers were removed.
No protests were made regarding these, and other similar, actions (and according to Sir Edward Grey, about 61 per cent of the vessels passing through the Suez Canal and Red Sea at the time were British3), but the imposition of the blockade in general caused British objections. As has already been noted, Italian actions in Tripoli occasioned ‘immense ferment’ amongst Britain’s Islamic subjects in India, and their actions in the Red Sea exacerbated this. It was argued by, for example, the All India Muslim League that the blockade threatened to prevent pilgrims from the sub-continent performing Hajj.4 Also exacerbating this situation was the Italian encouraged seizure of the Farsan Islands by the followers of the rebellious Sayyid Muhammad Ibn Ali al-Idrisi in early February. Situated on the main island was a quarantine centre through which those pilgrims travelling to Mecca on ships were obliged to pass. This centre, together with a similar station at El-Tor (El Tur) in Sinai on the Gulf of Suez, had been established following an outbreak of cholera in 1865. The disease originated in India and was spread to Arabia by pilgrims before moving on to Europe, causing the death of some 200,000 people worldwide. Thus quarantine procedures, supervised by Britain and the Ottoman Empire, now became part of the sea-going pilgrim’s experience.5 There was an element of hyperbole in these protests inasmuch as the last Dhu al-Hijjah, the month of pilgrimage, as calculated by the Gregorian calendar occurred between 23 November and 21 December 1911. The next was due to occur between 12 November and 10 December 1912. Nevertheless, the British government quietly protested about the matter and was, in a similar manner, reassured by Italy that interference with the Hajj would not be permitted.6
France, as well as making similar protests over the potential disruption to those of her subjects who wanted to undertake the Hajj, had another more particular complaint against Italian actions. A French syndicate, the ‘Ottoman Hodeida-Sana’a and Branch Line Railway Company,’ led by the Banque Française pour le Commerce et de l’Industrie had begun to construct a short 17-kilometre railway between a planned new harbour at Ra’s Kath b (Rw-el-Ketib) and Al Hudaydah in 27 March 1911. As the name of the syndicate suggests, this was to be the start of a line from the port to Sana’a, the largest and most important inland city in southern Arabia (and now the capital of the Republic of Yemen), and situated about 160 kilometres inland. This first section ran along a long spit that connected the harbour and town, and a little less than half had been completed by January 1912. This spit lay between the open sea and Jabanah (Djebana) and unfortunately during a bombardment by the Piemonte, the railway was severely damaged and the project had to be abandoned. The syndicate sued the Italian government for 200,000 lira for the damage to French property.7
Though the destruction of Ottoman naval assets in the Red Sea was undoubtedly a useful operation of war in itself, it did not of course bring much pressure to bear on the Ottoman government with respect to the wider conflict. Ottoman complaints about Italy’s actions were unceasing, but, as must have been very clear to them by now, no Great Power intervention against Italy was likely to take place until some Great Power vital interest was threatened. The Ottoman government believed that one such area of vital interest related to Syria, where France had long standing and internationally recognised ambitions.8 At the time, the boundaries of the area termed ‘Syria’ were imprecise, but in the current context it roughly meant the coast of modern Syria and Lebanon. The Ottoman government believed any Italian naval action along this coast was likely to provoke French intervention. Such was the information conveyed to Giolitti by one of his sources in Istanbul, Giuseppe Volpi.9 As Giolitti stated it in his memoirs: ‘Notwithstanding the state of war, indirect relationships of an absolutely private character were maintained between us and important members of the Ottoman government regime.’ Volpi, with his ‘wide network of knowledge and relationships,’ thus acted as an unofficial conduit between the two governments.10 This then was the political context within which the Italian Navy mounted an attack on Beirut on 24 February, which, as Childs points out, may have been made in an attempt to disabuse the Ottomans of any prospect of such intervention.11 The ostensible reason sometimes given for it, that the two Ottoman warships at anchor there might ‘interfere with the transportation of Italian troops to the Red Sea,’ is unconvincing.12 The larger vessel was the Avnillah (Avn-Illah), which had been constructed in Britain in 1869 as a casemate corvette; at some 2,300 tonnes a lighter version of a central battery ship. She was, literally, an ironclad and had been obsolete for decades although, according to the London Times correspondent in Beirut, she was ‘interesting as a naval antiquity.’13 Although rebuilt in 1907, her engines were worn out and so she was unmanoeuvrable under her own steam. The smaller ship was the 165-tonne ‘Antalya’ class torpedo-boat Ankara, constructed in Italy in 1906. Armed with two 450 mm torpedo tubes, she was undoubtedly a more potent force than her harbour-mate, but hardly a threat to Italian naval supremacy.
To despatch these two warships Vice-Admiral Luigi Faravelli sent half the 4th Division of his 2nd Squadron, the armoured cruisers Giuseppe Garibaldi (flag) and Francesco Ferruccio, taking the command himself. According to his official report, the Italian ships ‘surprised’ the Ottoman ships at daybreak in the Port of Beirut, and ordered them to surrender before 09:00 hours. No sign of this being manifested at the expiration of the deadline, a sign
al demanding surrender was hoisted, and when this elicited no response fire was opened upon the Avnillah, which the report throughout calls a ‘gunboat.’ This vessel ‘replied energetically’ until 09:20 hours when it was seen that it had been set alight and firing ceased. The Italian flagship then proceeded to the mouth of the harbour and engaged the Ankara, which was ‘badly damaged’ before being destroyed by a torpedo. The report ended by stating that ‘The report that the town of Beirut was bombarded is absolutely false.’14
A credible neutral observer generally confirms Faravelli’s report, though demonstrates that he was somewhat economical with the truth. Howard Bliss, since 1903 the President of the American University of Beirut (founded 1866), had a panoramic view of the action from the campus overlooking the Mediterranean: ‘From the College grounds we could easily see the firing, and from the College tower the view was still more clear.’ One of his colleagues, Mrs. Professor Nickoley, was near the waterfront when the ‘serious firing’ began, and he recounted her story:
She said that the excitement was indescribable. Shops were closed. Hundreds of people poured into the streets. Animosity against suspected Italians was fierce. She saw two persons fall as a result of revolver or gun shots or other attacks. A Russian Jew, supposed to be an Italian, was attacked, but he was not killed. It is probable, however, that the people were more frightened for their own safety than bent upon revenge.
Bliss noted that ‘before long’, presumably at 09:20 hours, the firing from the vessels ceased, ‘but one of them proceeded slowly to the opening of the port, coming within a few rods [1 rod = 5.0292 metres] of the breakwater.’ His account continued:
The breakwater runs east and west and then at right angles with it another portion runs north and south leaving an opening between the two portions for the entrance of vessels. The Italian vessel took up its position just at this opening and soon began firing upon the Turkish gunboat which was lying in the harbor. […]
Huge columns of water rose up from where the shells or torpedoes struck, and a great volume of smoke arose from the attacked gun-boat. […] After firing quite a number of shots the Italian warship withdrew, and with its companion went off in a northerly and then a northwesterly direction, to a point eight or ten miles away.
Another pair of his colleagues who ventured to the telegraph office reckoned that they saw the bodies of ‘fifteen or twenty’ people who had been killed by the explosion of a shell near the port. At least some of them had become victims when the balcony of a hotel near to the Custom House had collapsed, presumably after being hit by a shell. Probably thinking that with the retirement of the ships the excitement was over, Bliss went for luncheon. However, at about 14:00 hours, he interrupted his meal and went out to see ‘whether the vessels had changed their position.’ He was ‘surprised’ to note that they were returning and that one of them, the Giuseppe Garibaldi, was ‘making its way to the entrance of the inner harbor.’ As he put it:
For some unexplained reason the morning’s work had not destroyed the small Turkish torpedo boat, and this second visit was for the purpose of finishing the morning’s work. […] The warship directed its fire against the torpedo boat and soon sunk it. Among the five or six shots that were fired was another shell that went screeching over the city and landed, presumably, on the sands near the Municipal Hospital. […] Immediately after firing the shots the Italian warship withdrew, and together with her sister ship sailed away, remaining, however, within sight of the College, fifteen miles to the northwest.15
Contemporaneous official communications from the authorities at Beirut reckoned that 50 sailors that had been aboard the Avnillah were missing presumed dead, and 30 civilians had been killed and another 100 wounded during the attack. The total number of sailors and civilians killed was later amended to a round figure of 100.16 The civilian casualties had mainly occurred because a large crowd had gathered on the quayside to watch the attack and these were hit by ‘splinters from ricocheting shells.’17
The Austro-Hungarian Ambassador immediately protested over the action, in the ‘erroneous’ belief that the target of the bombardment had been the city rather than the warships. Barrère too made representations, but according to Giolitti these were put forward in a ‘friendly’ way.18 Perhaps slightly less friendly was the deployment of the armoured cruiser Amiral Charner (1894) from Crete to Beirut; as one newspaper put it: ‘there is £6,000,000 of French capital invested in Beirut.’19 Italy did attract criticism for bombarding the city, an act which it denied. Bliss’s report seems to confirm the Italian position in that the material damage, and the deaths and injuries, were the result of stray, rather than aimed, shells. Perhaps ironically, those who paid the highest price for the Italian attack at Beirut were those Italians that resided in the Ottoman Levant. The Ottoman Government announced on 26 February that, following the action, it had been decided to expel Italian subjects from the vilayets of Aleppo, Beirut and Damascus, plus the mutasarrifiyya (district) of Jerusalem, within fifteen days. The expulsion was only partial however, inasmuch as those in religious orders were exempted.20
The attack on the ships at Beirut, though relatively insignificant in itself, may nevertheless be viewed as something of a turning point. If it was meant to demonstrate to the Ottoman government that it could not rely on France, or indeed any of the other Great Powers, to deter Italy militarily then it worked. Conversely, the non-response of those powers sent much the same message to Giolitti and his government. This served to embolden them somewhat, and this at a time when they were becoming impatient at the frustrating refusal of the Ottoman regime to accept the Italian version of reality in North Africa. Romano argues that the Navy too was developing a sense of frustration and resentment at its lack of action, and wanted to be allowed to up the ante.21
The prospect of an expansion of the naval war had occurred to the Ottoman Government. Despatches from Istanbul on the day of the attack stated that the Ambassadors to the Great Powers had been instructed to inform these powers that should the Italian fleet appear off the Dardanelles then this seaway would be immediately closed by mine defences. On 27 February reports indicated that the Ambassadors had handed notes to the Great Powers protesting against the sinking at Beirut ‘without the usual notices.’ The note also announced that the Dardanelles would be closed if hostilities spread to the Aegean.22
This lurking though as yet unrealised threat to the Aegean generally and the Dardanelles specifically exercised the mind of the British Foreign Secretary. He circulated a message to the British Ambassadors to Austria-Hungary, France, Germany and Russia in an effort to coordinate action:
In view of the very serious injury which would be caused to commerce should the Turkish Government in self-defence proceed to close the Dardanelles by mines, I would like to know if the Government to which you are accredited would consider it desirable to approach Italy and ask her if she would be disposed to give an assurance that she would undertake no hostile operations in the Dardanelles and neighbouring waters.23
Sir George Buchanan at St Petersburg replied on 5 March, relaying the views of Sazanov. The Russian Foreign Minister argued that such an action would be incompatible with neutrality, and that he was most anxious to avoid taking any step to which the Italian Government could possibly take exception.24 The Austro-Hungarian view was essentially similar despite the death of Foreign Minister Count Lexa von Aehrenthal and his replacement, on 17 February 1912, by Count Leopold Berchtold. Berchtold continued his predecessor’s policy, writing to his Ambassadors in Berlin, Constantinople, London, Paris, Rome and St. Petersburg on 3 March of his reply to Sir Edward Grey’s approach:
Sir F[airfax] Cartwright [the British Ambassador] called on me yesterday and reiterated verbally the proposal [..] I told the Ambassador that, in my opinion, the Italian Government would not entertain the demand for a declaration that she will not undertake any warlike operations in the Dardanelles and the adjacent waters; it was our duty as neutrals to avoid all that might give the
appearance that we wish to impede the freedom of action of either of the belligerent parties. In support of his representations Sir F. Cartwright asked whether the Italian Government had not previously made to the Vienna Cabinet a declaration coinciding in principle with the one which the five Powers were to demand now from Italy on Sir Edward Grey’s initiative. I replied to the Ambassador that I had never heard of such a declaration by Italy.25
Austria-Hungary was, as has been already noted, sensitive in the extreme to any disturbance of the status quo in the Balkans and Eastern Mediterranean. Moreover, relations with Italy over the matter were regulated by treaty; Article VII of the Triple Alliance as renewed in 1902 stated the obligations imposed on the two states quite clearly:
Austria-Hungary and Italy, being desirous solely that the territorial status quo in the near East be maintained as much as possible, pledge themselves to exert their influence to prevent all territorial modification which may prove detrimental to one or the other of the Powers signatory of this Treaty. To that end they shall communicate to one another all such information as may be suitable for their mutual enlightenment, concerning their own dispositions as well as those of other Powers.
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