CHAPTER XX
THE NIGHT OF TERROR BEGINS--
Denis Castellan had put the situation tersely, but with a considerableamount of accuracy. Earth and sea and sky were ablaze with swarms ofshooting, shifting lights, which kept crossing each other and makingever-changing patterns of a magnificent embroidery, and amidst these,huge shells and star-rockets were bursting in clouds of smoke andmany-coloured flame. The thunder of the big guns, the grinding rattle ofthe quick-firers, and the hoarse, whistling shrieks of the shells,completed the awful pandemonium of destruction and death that was raginground Dover.
The truth was that the main naval attack of the Allies was beingdirected on the south-eastern stronghold. I am aware that this is notthe usual plan followed by those who have written romantic forecasts ofthe invasion of England. It seems at first sight, provided that theenemy could pass the sentinels of the sea unnoticed, easy to land troopson unprotected portions of our shores; but, in actual warfare, thiswould be the most fatal policy that could be pursued, simply because,whatever the point selected, the invaders would always find themselvesbetween two strong places, with one or more ahead of them. They wouldthus be outflanked on all sides, with no retreat open but the sea, whichis the most easily closed of all retreats.
From their point of view, then, the Allies were perfectly right in theirproject of reducing the great strongholds of southern and easternEngland, before advancing with their concentrated forces upon London.It would, of course, be a costly operation. In fact Britain's longimmunity from invasion went far to prove that, to enemies possessingonly the ordinary means of warfare, it would have been impossible, but,ever since the success of the experiment at Potsdam, German engineeringfirms had been working hard under John Castellan's directions turningout improved models of the _Flying Fish_. The various parts weremanufactured at great distances apart, and no one firm knew what theothers were doing. It was only when the parts of the vessels and theengines were delivered at the closely-guarded Imperial factory atPotsdam, that, under Castellan's own supervision, they became theterrible fighting machines that they were.
The Aerial Fleet numbered twenty when war broke out, and of these fivehad been detailed for the attack on Dover. They were in fact theelements which made that attack possible, and, as is already known, fourwere co-operating with the Northern Division of the Allied Fleetsagainst the forts defending Chatham and London.
Dover was at that time one of the most strongly fortified places in theworld. Its magnificent new harbour had been completed, and itsfortifications vastly strengthened and re-armed with the newfourteen-inch gun which had superseded the old sixteen-inch gun ofposition, on account of its greater handiness, combined with greaterpenetrating power.
But at Dover, as at Portsmouth, the forts were powerless against theassaults of these winged demons of the air. They were able to use theirterrible projectiles with reckless profusion, because only twenty-twomiles away at Calais there were inexhaustible stores from which theycould replenish their magazines. Moreover, the private factory at Kiel,where alone they were allowed to be manufactured, were turning them outby hundreds a day.
They had, of course, formed the vanguard of the attacking force whichhad advanced in three divisions in column of line abreast from Boulogne,Calais and Antwerp. The Boulogne and Calais divisions were French, andeach consisted of six battleships with the usual screens of cruisers,destroyers and torpedo boats: these two divisions constituted the FrenchNorth Sea Squadron, whose place had been taken by the main German Fleet,assisted by the Belgian and Dutch squadron.
Another German and Russian division was advancing on London. It includedfour first-class battleships, and two heavily-armed coast defence ships,huge floating fortresses, rather slow in speed, but tremendous in power,which accompanied them for the purpose of battering the fortifications,and doing as much damage to Woolwich and other important places on bothsides as their big guns could achieve. Four _Flying Fishes_ accompaniedthis division.
Such was the general plan of action on that fatal night. Confident inthe terrific powers of their Aerial Squadrons, and ignorant of theexistence of the _Ithuriel_, the Allied Powers never considered thepossibilities of anything but rapid victory. They knew that the fortscould no more withstand the shock of the bombardment from the air thanbattleships or cruisers could resist the equally deadly blow which thesesame diabolical contrivances could deliver under the water.
They had not the slightest doubt but that forts would be silenced andfleets put out of action with a swiftness unknown before, and then thecrowded transports would follow the victorious fleets, and the militarypromenade upon London would begin, headed by the winged messengers ofdestruction, from which neither flight nor protection was possible.
Of course, the leaders of the Allies were in ignorance of themisfortunes they had suffered at Portsmouth and Folkestone. All theyknew they learned from aerograms, one from Admiral Durenne off the Isleof Wight saying that the Portsmouth forts had been silenced and theFleet action had begun, and another from the Commodore of the squadronoff Folkestone saying that all was going well, and the landing wouldshortly be effected: and thus they fully expected to have the threetowns and the entrance to the Thames at their mercy by the followingday.
Certainly, as far as Dover was concerned, things looked very much asthough their anticipations would be realised, for when the _Ithuriel_arrived upon the scene, Dover Castle and its surrounding forts werevomiting flame and earth into the darkening sky, like so many volcanoes.The forts on Admiralty Pier, Shakespear Cliff, and those commanding thenew harbour works, had been silenced and blown up, and the town andbarracks were in flames in many places.
The scene was, in short, so inhumanly appalling, and horror followedhorror with such paralysing rapidity, that the most practisedcorrespondents and the most experienced officers, both afloat andashore, were totally unable to follow them and describe what washappening with anything like coherence. It was simply an inferno ofdeath and destruction, which no human words could have properlydescribed, and perhaps the most ghastly feature of it was the fact thatthere was no human agency visible in it at all. There was no Homericstruggle of man with man, although many a gallant deed was done thatnight which never was seen nor heard of, and many a hero went to hisdeath without so much as leaving behind him the memory of how he died.
It was a conflict of mechanical giants--giant ships, giant engines,giant guns, and explosives of something more than giant strength. Thesewere the monsters which poor, deluded Humanity, like anotherFrankenstein, had thought out with infinite care and craft, andfashioned for its own mutual destruction. Men had made a hell out oftheir own passions and greed and jealousies, and now that hell hadopened and mankind was about to descend into it.
The sea-defence of Dover itself consisted of the Home Fleet in threedivisions, composed respectively of the _England_, _London_, _Bulwark_and _Venerable_, _Queen_ and _Prince of Wales_ battleships, and tenfirst-class armoured cruisers, the _Duncan_, _Cornwallis_, _Exmouth_ and_Russell_ battleships, with twelve armoured cruisers, and thirdly, thereconstructed and re-armed _Empress of India_, _Revenge_, _Repulse_ and_Resolution_, with eight armoured cruisers. To the north between Doverand the North Foreland lay the Southern Division of the North SeaSquadron.
When the battle had commenced these three divisions were lying in theirrespective stations, in column of line ahead about six miles from theEnglish shore. Behind them lay a swarm of destroyers and torpedo boats,ready to dart out and do their deadly work between the ships, and tensubmarines were attached to each division. The harbour and approacheswere, of course, plentifully strewn with mines.
"It's an awful sight," said Castellan, with a note of awe in his voice,when they had taken in the situation with the rapidity and precision ofthe professional eye. "And to me the worst of it is that it won't besafe for us to take a share in the row."
"What!" exclaimed Erskine, almost angrily. "Do you mean to tell me wesha'n't be able to help our fellows? Then what on earth have we come
here for?"
"Just look there, now!" said Castellan, pointing ahead to where hugeshapes, enveloped in a mist of flame and smoke, were circling round eachother, vomiting their thunderbolts, like leviathans engaged in averitable dance of death.
"D'ye see that!" continued Denis. "What good would we be among that lot?The _Ithuriel_ hasn't eyes on her that can see through the dark water,and if she had, how would we tell the bottom of a French or German shipfrom a Britisher's, and a nice thing it would be for us to go aboutsinking the King's ships, and helping those foreign devils to land inold England! No, Erskine, this ship of yours is a holy terror, but she'sa daylight fighter. Don't you see that we came too late, and wait tillto-morrow we can't, and there's the Duke's orders.
"I'll tell you what," he continued more cheerfully, as the _Ithuriel_cleared the southern part of the battle, "if we could get at thetransports we might have some fun with them, but they'll all be safeenough in port, loading up, and there's not much chance that they'llcome out till our boys have been beaten and the roads are clear forthem. Then they'll go across thinking they'll meet their pals fromPortsmouth and Folkestone. Now, you see that line out there to thenorth-eastward?"
"Yes," said Erskine, looking towards a long row of dim shapes whichevery now and then were brought out into ominous distinctness by theflashes of the shells and searchlights.
"Well," continued Castellan, "if I know anything of naval tactics,that's the Reserve lot waiting till the battle's over. They thinkthey'll win, and I think so too, thanks to those devil-ships my brotherhas made for them. Even if Beresford does come up in time, he can nomore fight against them than anybody else. Now, there's just one chancethat we can give him, and that is sinking the Reserve; for, you see, ifwe've only half a dozen ships left that can shoot a bit in the morning,they won't dare to put their transports out without a convoy, and unlessthey land them, well, they're no use."
"Castellan," said Erskine, putting his hand on his shoulder, "you'll bean admiral some day. Certainly, we'll go for the convoy, for I'll bekicked if I can stand here watching all that going on and not have ahand in it. We'd better sink, and use nothing but the ram, I suppose."
"Why, of course," replied Castellan. "It would never do to shoot atthem. There are too many, and besides, we don't want them to know thatwe're here until we've sent them to the bottom."
"And a lot they'll know about it then!" laughed Erskine. "All right," hecontinued, taking down the receiver. "Courtney and Mac can see to thesinking, so you'd better stop here with me and see the fun."
"That I will, with all the pleasure in life and death," said Castellangrimly, as Erskine gave his orders and the _Ithuriel_ immediately beganto sink.
Castellan was perfectly right in his conjecture as to the purpose of theReserve.
The French and German Squadron, which was intended for the last rushthrough the remnants of the crippled British fleet, consisted of fourFrench and three German battleships, old and rather slow, but heavilyarmed, and much more than a match for the vessels which had alreadypassed through the terrible ordeal of battle. In addition there were sixfast second-class cruisers, and about a score of torpedo boats.
With her decks awash and the conning-tower just on a level with theshort, choppy waves, the _Ithuriel_ ran round to the south of the lineat ten knots, as they were anxious not to kick up any fuss in the water,lest a chance searchlight from the enemy might fall upon them, and leadto trouble. She got within a mile of the first cruiser unobserved, andthen Erskine gave the order to quicken up. They had noticed that thewind was rising, and they knew that within half an hour the tide wouldbe setting southward like a mill-race through the narrow strait.
Their tactics therefore were very simple. Every cruiser and battleshipwas rammed in the sternpost; not very hard, but with sufficient force tocrumple up the sternpost, and disable the rudder and the propellers, andwith such precision was this done, that, until the signals of distressbegan to flash, the uninjured ships and the nearest of those engaged inthe battle were under the impression that orders had been given for theReserve to move south. But this supposition very soon gave place topanic as ship after ship swung helplessly inshore, impelled by theever-strengthening tide towards the sands of Calais and the rocks ofGris Nez.
Searchlights flashed furiously, but Erskine and Castellan had alreadytaken the bearings of the remaining ships, and the _Ithuriel_, now tenfeet below the water, and steered solely by compass, struck ship aftership, till the whole of the Reserve was drifting helplessly todestruction.
This, as they had both guessed, produced a double effect on the battle.In the first place it was impossible for the Allies to see theirReserve, upon which so much might depend, in such a helpless plight, andthe admirals commanding were therefore obliged to detach ships to helpthem; and on the other hand, the British were by no means slow to takeadvantage of the position. A score of torpedo boats, and half as manydestroyers, dashed out from behind the British lines, and, rushingthrough the hurricane of shell that was directed upon them, ran past thebroken line of unmanageable cruisers and battleships, and torpedoed themat easy range. True, half of them were crumpled up, and sent to thebottom during the process, but that is a contingency which Britishtorpedo officers and men never take the slightest notice of. Thedisabled ships were magnificent marks for torpedoes, and they had to godown, wherefore down they went.
Meanwhile the _Ithuriel_ had been having a merry time among the torpedoflotilla of the Reserve Squadron. She rose flush with the water, put onfull speed, and picked them up one after another on the end of her ram,and tossed them aside into the depths as rapidly as an enraged whalemight have disposed of a fleet of whaleboats.
The last boat had hardly gone down when signals were seen flashing upinto the sky from over Dungeness.
"That's Beresford to the rescue," said Castellan, in a notover-cheerful voice. "Now if it wasn't for those devil-ships of mybrother's there'd be mighty little left of the Allied Fleet to-morrowmorning; but I'm afraid he won't be able to do anything against thoseamphibious _Flying Fishes_, as he calls them. Now, we'd better be off toLondon."
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