Cleared for Action
With admirable and well-kept secrecy the Admiralty had made all
preparations for a strong attack to be delivered at the supposedly
impregnable Dardanelles. In addition to the ships of the Mediterranean
Fleet, battleships and cruisers were ordered to proceed to the Near
East, until a fleet deemed sufficiently strong for the work in hand had
collected in the Ægean Sea.
The _Hammerer_ was one of the first to leave England for that purpose,
while it was hinted amongst the officers that there was a big surprise
up the sleeve of the Admiralty when the final depositions of the
attacking fleet were completed.
Sub-lieutenant Dick Crosthwaite hailed the news with as much enthusiasm
as the rest of the gun-room, which is saying much; for the youngsters
let off a cheer that, if it did not equal the volume of sound emitted
by the men, had the dire effect of arousing the chaplain and naval
instructor from their afternoon nap.
It was a chance of a lifetime. Little Tommy Farnworth's announcement
was a true one. While the Grand Fleet waited and watched in tireless
energy for the German High Seas Fleet, this powerful squadron, detached
without risk of disturbing the superiority of power in home waters, was
silently and rapidly concentrating to match its strength against the
vaunted Ottoman batteries on both sides of the Dardanelles. For this
purpose the older type of war-ships with their 12-inch guns could be
usefully and profitably employed, since speed--one of the greatest
factors of modern naval warfare--was not so imperative when dealing
with immobile batteries the position of which is already known.
When Ushant was astern and the _Hammerer_ well into the Bay, the
battleship's escort of destroyers turned and parted company. They had
seen the ship through the waters within the radius of action of the
German submarines. They were now free to return and take another
battleship clear of the Channel. No doubt several huge grey-painted
war-ships had been observed through the periscopes of these hostile
under-water craft, but the presence of the swift, alert destroyers was
sufficient to cause even the most reckless German lieutenant-commander
to hesitate to attack. But for the destroyers more than one of the
Mediterranean-bound war-ships would have fallen an easy prey to the
lurking peril of the deep.
From the Atlantic, the Pacific, and the Indian Oceans came ships
proudly displaying the white ensign. Under cover of complete secrecy,
battleships and battle-cruisers gained the rendezvous without an
inkling of their presence to the outside world.
The _Canopus_, which had been expected to join Admiral Cradock's
ill-starred squadron in the Pacific, and had last been heard of in the
Falkland Islands fight, suddenly turned up in the Ægean. The
battle-cruisers that enabled Admiral Sturdee to avenge the _Monmouth_
and _Good Hope_ swiftly covered the 6500 miles between the Falkland
Islands and the Piræus; the _Triumph_, after doing yeoman service at
Kiao-Chau, and stopping in the Suez Canal to help put the fear of the
British Empire into the Turkish invaders of Egypt, steamed into the
Archipelago, ready to continue the good work she had so worthily begun.
Not only was the white ensign displayed at the southern gate of the Sea
of Marmora; for a powerful French squadron, without weakening the force
that held the Austrians under the guns at Pola and Trieste, had arrived
to join hands with the former traditional enemy and now close ally of
France; while in the Black Sea the Russians were making their presence
felt upon the Turkish littoral of that inland sea.
The Ottoman Empire, tottering after the last disastrous Balkan War, was
on the point of committing national suicide under the patronage of its
bombastic German tutors.
On the ninth day after leaving Portsmouth the _Hammerer_ was in the
vicinity of Cape Matapan. She was bowling along at a modest sixteen
knots, a rate that, considering the condition of her engines, reflected
great credit upon the "black squad" and the engine-room staff.
It was two bells in the first dog watch. Dick Crosthwaite, who was on
duty on the fore-bridge, was talking with the officer of the watch when
a sail was reported astern.
Bringing the glasses to bear upon the vessel, both officers found that
only her masts and funnels showed above the horizon. There was
something unfamiliar about the appearance of the masts, for one was a
tripod, the other one of the ordinary pre-Dreadnought type. The only
battleships that sported this combination were the _Lord Nelson_ and
_Agamemnon_--and their position was known to an almost absolute
certainty--and the newly-completed _Queen Elizabeth_.
"Strange," remarked Bourne, the officer of the watch. "I'd almost bet
my bottom dollar that's the _Queen Bess_ but for two reasons: first,
she's not ready for sea; secondly, she's too powerful a ship to send
out here while there's an impending job for her in the North Sea."
"She's coming on at a tremendous rate," observed Dick.
For several minutes the identity of the overtaking craft remained
unknown; for, acting upon definite instructions, owing to the "tapping"
of important messages by the enemy, the use of wireless had been almost
entirely dispensed with during the voyage.
"Telephone to the fire-control platform, Mr. Crosthwaite," ordered
Bourne. "Ask them what they make of yonder craft. Stay! Send one of
the midshipmen--Maynebrace; he looks as if a little exercise would do
him good."
Midshipman Maynebrace needed no spur. In a very few moments he had
made his way to the foremast and was climbing the dizzy height by means
of the iron rungs that, riveted to the lofty steel cylinder, formed the
only means of personal communication with the fire-control platform.
The interior of the _Hammerer's_ hollow masts, which were originally
fitted with lifts to convey the ammunition to the now discarded
quick-firing guns in the fighting-tops, were now utilized for the
numerous wires and voice-tubes communicating with the various parts of
the ship.
Up through the lower top and upwards again the midshipman climbed with
the dexterity acquired by long practice, never halting till he
disappeared from view inside the elongated steel-plated box known as
the fire-control platform.
Down again, seemingly at the imminent risk of breaking his neck, young
Maynebrace made his way; then, cool and collected in spite of his
exercise, he saluted the officer of the watch.
"It's the _Lizzie_, sir," he reported, using the abbreviated name by
which the British seamen already knew the wonder ship of the year--the
super-Dreadnought, _Queen Elisabeth_.
"By all the powers!" ejaculated Bourne. "This takes the proverbial
biscuit. That's a nasty slight upon poor old Tirpitz: sending our last
word in battleships to the Dardanelles."
"I pity the Turks, sir, when the _Lizzie_ begins to tickle them up with
her fifteen-inchers," said Maynebrace. "There'll be a few people
surprised, not only out here but at home."
So well had the Admiralty plans been kept a secret that, until the
_Hammerer's_ ship's company saw the super-Dreadnought almost within the
limits of the Ægean Sea, the _Queen Elizabeth's_ presence was totally
unexpected. The mere fact of her being sent out to the Near East
indicated the gigantic task before the Allies: the forcing at all costs
the hitherto supposedly impregnable defences of the Dardanelles.
Majestic in her business-like garb of grey, and with her eight monster
15-inch guns showing conspicuously against the skyline, the _Queen
Elizabeth_ overhauled and passed her older consort as easily as an
express overtakes a suburban train.
For five minutes the "bunting tossers" on both ships were busily
engaged; then, amid the outspoken and admiring criticism of the
_Hammerer's_ crew, the super-Dreadnought slipped easily ahead and was
soon hull down.
Twelve hours later the _Hammerer_ dropped anchor at the rendezvous off
Tenedos. She was but one among many, for the Anglo-French fleet
numbered nearly a hundred of various sizes--from the _Queen Elizabeth_
of 27,500 tons down to the long, lean destroyers. In addition there
were numerous trawlers--vessels that a few weeks previously had been at
work off the coasts of Great Britain. Now, under conditions of
absolute secrecy, these small but weatherly craft had risked the danger
of a passage across the Bay in the early spring, had braved the
"levanters" of the Mediterranean, and had assembled to do their
important but frequently underrated work of clearing the mines to allow
the advance of the battleships to within effective range of the hostile
batteries.
Next morning, according to time-honoured custom, the _Hammerer's_ crew
assembled on the quarter-deck for prayers. It was a fitting prelude to
the work in hand, for orders had been issued from the flagship for the
fleet to go into action.
A bell tolled. To the signal yard-arm rose the "Church pennant": red,
white, and blue, with a St. George's Cross on the "fly" or outer half.
As the crew trooped aft, each man decorously saluted the quarter-deck
and fell in; seamen, stokers, and marines forming three sides of a
square, with the officers in the centre, while the "defaulters", few in
number, were mustered separately under the eagle eye of the ship's
police.
In ten minutes the solemn function was over. The Chaplain disappeared
down the companion; the Captain gave the stereotyped order "Carry on";
the Commander, taking his cue, gave the word "pipe down", and the scene
of devotion gave place to the grim preparation for "Action".
Stanchions, rails, ventilators, anchor-davits disappeared as if by
magic. Hatches and skylights were battened down and secured by steel
coverings, and everything liable to interfere with the training of the
guns was either ruthlessly thrown overboard or stowed out of sight.
Hoses were coupled up, ready to combat the dreaded result of any shell
that might "get home" and cause fire on board. All superfluous gear
aloft was sent below; shrouds were frapped to resist shell-fire, and
the fore-top-mast was housed. The main-topmast, since it supported the
wireless aerials, had perforce to remain. In less than an hour the
crew, each man working with a set purpose, had transformed the
_Hammerer_ into a gaunt [Transcriber's note: giant?] floating battery.
Dick Crosthwaite's action station was in the for'ard port 6-inch
casemate, an armoured box containing one of the secondary battery guns,
capable of being trained nearly right ahead, and through an arc of 135
degrees to a point well abaft the beam.
The major portion of the casemate was taken up by the gun and its
mountings, while a little to the rear of the weapon, and protected by a
canvas screen, was the ammunition hoist, by which projectiles weighing
100 pounds each were sent up from the fore magazine. Around the walls
were the voice tubes communicating with the conning-tower, the
magazine, and other portions of the ship, while in addition was a
bewildering array of switches and cased wires in connection with the
lighting of the casemate and the firing mechanism of the gun. Buckets
of water, for use in case of a conflagration, stood on the floor in
close company with a tub full of barley water, at which the parched men
could slake their thirst. What little space remained was fully
occupied by the gun's crew, who, stripped to their singlets, were
coolly speculating as to the chances of "losing the number of their
mess".
Strangely enough, no one imagined that he was to be one of the unlucky
ones; it is always his pal or some of his shipmates. It is an optimism
that is shared equally alike by the Tommies in the trenches and the
Jack Tars at their battle-stations.
Craning his neck, the Sub looked through the gun-port. It was an
operation that required no small amount of manoeuvring, for the
aperture was barely sufficient to allow the chase of the gun to
protrude, while the armoured mounting left very little space between
its face and the curved wall of the casemate.
The _Hammerer_ was third ship of the port column, for the older
battleships were steering in double column, line ahead. Preceding the
squadron were the mine-sweepers, covered on either flank by strong
patrols of destroyers.
Ten or twelve miles to the north could be discerned a mountainous and
rocky coast terminating abruptly to the west'ard. Part of the highland
was in Europe, part in Asia, but where the line of demarcation existed
the Sub was unable to determine. Somewhere in that wall of rock lay
the entrance to the Dardanelles, but distance rendered the position of
the hostile straits invisible.
Away on the port hand lay the island of Imbros. Under its lee could be
seen the misty outlines of the _Queen Elisabeth_, _Agamemnon_,
_Irresistible_, and the French battleship _Gaulois_, ready to open a
long-range bombardment of the Turkish batteries.
"Think the beggars will fight when they see this little lot?" asked
Midshipman Sefton.
"Why not?" asked the Sub.
"I hope they will," continued the midshipman. "Especially after all
this trouble. The Turk is a funny chap. See how he crumpled up
against the rest of the Balkan States in 1912."
"On the other hand, the Turkish infantryman in '78 was reckoned one of
the best 'stickers' in Europe," said Dick. "Under European officers
these fellows will fight pretty gamely, and from all accounts there's a
good leavening of German officers and artillerymen in these forts.
Anyhow, we've got to get through. We've done it before, you know."
"Yes," admitted Sefton; "in the early nineteenth century, with a fleet
of wooden walls. Duckworth did a grand thing then. In '78, when
Hornby went through, the case was different. The Turks didn't open
fire. Perhaps they funked it, and that's what makes me think they'll
hesitate at the last moment."
Even as the midshipman spoke there came a peculiar screech that sounded
almost above the armoured roof of the casemate.
The two young officers exchanged glances.
It was the first shell from the battery of Sedd-ul-Bahr.