BRITISH SUBMARINES IN THE DARDANELLES
Our submarine campaign in the Sea of Marmora must also have a separate
chapter to itself, not only because it is now a closed episode in the
history of the War, but because it was conducted under quite unique
conditions. The scene of operations was not merely distant from the
submarine base, it was divided from it by an approach of unusual danger
and difficulty. The channel of the Dardanelles is narrow and winding,
with a strong tide perpetually racing down it, and setting strongly
into the several bays. It was moreover protected, as will appear in the
course of the narrative, by forts with powerful guns and searchlights
and torpedo tubes, and by barrages of thick wire and netting it was
also patrolled constantly by armed ships. Yet from the very first all
these defences were evaded or broken through with marvellous courage
and ingenuity; for nearly a year a succession of brilliant commanders
took their boats regularly up and down the passage, and made the
transport of Turkish troops and munitions across the Marmora first
hazardous, and finally impracticable. Their losses were small; but
they passed the weeks of their incredibly long patrols in continual
danger, and snatched their successes from the midst of a swarm of
vigilant enemies. Two battle-ships, a destroyer, and five gunboats
fell to them, besides over thirty steamers, many of which were armed,
nine transports, seven ammunition and store ships, and no less than 188
sailing-ships and dhows with supplies. The pages which follow contain
notes on the cruise of every British boat which attempted the passage
of the Straits; but they are far from giving an account of all their
amazing feats and adventures.
Lieutenant Norman Holbrook had the honour of being the first officer
to take a British submarine up the Dardanelles. He carefully prepared
his boat--B. 11--for the business of jumping over and under obstacles,
by devices which have since been perfected but were then experimental.
The preliminary trials turned out very satisfactorily, and on
Sunday, December 13, 1914, as soon as the mainland searchlights were
extinguished at dawn, he trimmed and dived for Seddul Bahr.
His main idea was to put certain Rickmers steamers out of action, and
perhaps the actual object of his pursuit was the _Lily Rickmers_. He
did not get her, but he got something quite as attractive. It was 9.40
A.M., or rather more than four hours from the start, when at last he
put his periscope above water, and saw immediately on his starboard
beam a large two-funnelled vessel, painted grey and flying the Turkish
ensign. At 600 yards he fired his starboard torpedo, put his helm hard
a-starboard, and dipped to avoid remonstrances. The explosion was duly
audible a few seconds later, and as B. 11 came quietly up of her own
motion her commander took a glimpse through the periscope. The grey
ship (she was the battle-ship _Messudiyeh_) was still on his starboard
beam, and firing a number of guns. B. 11 seemed bent on dipping again,
but Lieutenant Holbrook was still more bent on seeing what he had done.
He got her up once more and sighted his enemy, on the port bow this
time. She was settling down by the stern and her guns were no longer
firing.
At this moment the man at the helm of B. 11 reported that the lenses
of the compass had become fogged, and the instrument was for the
time unreadable. Lieutenant Holbrook took a careful survey of his
surroundings, calculated that he was in Sari Siglar Bay, and dived for
the channel. The boat touched bottom and for ten minutes went hop, skip
and jump along it, at full speed, until she shot off into deeper water.
Her commander then brought her up again, took a sight of the European
shore, steadied her by it, and ran for home. By 2 P.M. he had cleared
the entrance. His feat was not only brilliant in itself; it was an
act of leadership, an invaluable reconnaissance. In ten hours he had
proved all the possibilities of the situation--he had forced a strongly
guarded channel, surprised and sunk a battle-ship in broad daylight,
and returned safely, though he had gone up without information and come
down without a compass. The V.C. was his manifest destiny.
In the following spring, after the guns of the Allied fleets had failed
to reduce the Turkish forts, the submarine campaign was developed.
It began with a defeat--one of those defeats which turn to honour,
and maintain the invincibility of our Service. On April 17, while
attempting a difficult reconnaissance of the Kephez minefield, E. 15
ran ashore in the Dardanelles within a few hundred yards of Fort
No. 8. Her crew were captured while trying to get her off, and there
was a danger of her falling into the enemy’s hands in a serviceable
condition. The only remedy was to blow her up. She was no sort of a
mark for the battle-ships at long range; so during the night of the
18th an attack was made by two picket boats, manned by volunteer crews.
The boat of H.M.S. _Triumph_ was commanded by Lieut.-Commander Eric
Robinson, who led the expedition, with Lieut. Arthur Brooke Webb,
R.N.R., and Midshipman John Woolley, and that of H.M.S. _Majestic_
by Lieut. Claud Godwin. The fort gave them over two hundred rounds
at short range, mortally wounded one man and sank the _Majestic’s_
boat; but Lieut.-Commander Robinson succeeded in torpedoing E. 15 and
rendering her useless. He brought both crews off, and left even the
Germans in Constantinople admiring the pluck of his little enterprise.
One officer is reported by Mr. Lewis Einstein, of the American Embassy
there,[1] to have said, ‘I take off my hat to the British Navy.’ He was
right--this midnight attack by a handful of boys in boats has all the
heroic romance of the old cutting-out expeditions, and on Admiral de
Robeck’s report the leader of it was promoted to commander.
[1] _Inside Constantinople_, p. 3. This interesting book throws
much light on our submarine campaign, and gives valuable
confirmation of our records.
[Illustration: ‘The Fort gave them 200 rounds at short range.’]
On April 25, A.E. 2 went successfully up and entered the Sea of
Marmora; on the 29th, Lieut.-Commander Edward Courtney Boyle followed
in E. 14. He started at 1.40 A.M., and the searchlight at Suan Dere was
still working when he arrived there at 4 o’clock. The fort fired, and
he dived, passing clean under the minefield. He then passed Chanak
on the surface with all the forts firing at him. Further on there were
a lot of small ships patrolling, and a torpedo gunboat at which he
promptly took a shot. The torpedo got her on the quarter and threw up a
column of water as high as her mast. But Lieut.-Commander Boyle could
not stop to see more--he became aware that the men in a small steamboat
were leaning over and trying to catch hold of the top of his periscope.
He dipped and left them; then rounded Nagara Point and dived deep.
Again and again he came up and was driven down; destroyers and gunboats
were chasing and firing in all directions. It was all he could do to
charge his batteries at night. After running continuously for over
fifty hours, the motors were so hot that he was obliged to stop. The
steadiness of all on board may be judged from the record of the diving
necessary to avoid destruction. Out of the first sixty-four hours of
the voyage, the boat was kept under for forty-four hours and fifty
minutes.
On the afternoon of the 29th, he sighted three destroyers convoying
two troopships; fired and dipped--for the destroyers were blazing at
his periscope, and he had only that one left--the other had stopped a
shot the day before. But even down below a thud was audible, and the
depth gauges flicked ten feet; half an hour afterwards he saw through
the periscope his own particular transport making for the shore with
dense columns of yellow smoke pouring from her. And that was her last
appearance. A few hours later he sighted A.E. 2 and spoke her. She had
sunk one gunboat, but had had bad luck with her other torpedoes and had
only one left. Lieut.-Commander Boyle arranged to meet her again next
day; but next day the gallant A.E. 2 fell to a Turkish gunboat.
During these days the Sea of Marmora was glassy calm, and the patrol
ships were so troublesome that Lieut.-Commander Boyle decided to sink
one as a deterrent. He picked off a small mine-laying boat, and fired
at a larger one twice without success, as the wake of the torpedoes was
too easily seen in the clear water.
The first four days of May he spent mainly in being hunted. On the 5th,
he got a shot at a destroyer convoying a transport, and made a fine
right-angle hit at 600 yards, but the torpedo failed to explode. This
only whetted his appetite, and for three days he chased ship after
ship. One he followed inshore, but troops on board opened fire on him
and hit the boat several times. At last, on the evening of May 10,
after being driven down by one destroyer, he sighted another with two
transports, and attacked at once. His first torpedo missed the leading
transport; his second shot hit the second transport and a terrific
explosion followed. Debris and men were seen falling into the water;
then night came on rapidly, and he could not mark the exact moment at
which she sank.
Inside Constantinople they were already telling each other yarns about
E. 14, and for her incredible activity they even promoted her to the
plural number. ‘One of the English submarines in the Marmora,’ Mr.
Einstein wrote on May 11, ‘is said to have called at Rodosto, flying
the Turkish flag. The Kaimakam, believing the officers to be German,
gave them all the petrol and provisions they required, and it was only
after leaving that they hoisted their true colours.’ The story will not
bear examination from our side; but no doubt it very usefully covered
a deficiency in the Kaimakam’s store account, whether caused by Germans
or by the Faithful themselves.
On May 13, Lieut.-Commander Boyle records a rifle duel with a small
steamer which he had chased ashore near Panidos. On the 14th he remarks
the enemy’s growing shyness. ‘I think the Turkish torpedo-boats must
have been frightened of ramming us, as several times, when I tried to
remain on the surface at night, they were so close when sighted that
it must have been possible to get us if they had so desired.’ The air
was so clear that in the daytime he was almost always in sight from the
shore, and signal fires and smoke columns passed the alarm continually.
He had no torpedoes left and was not mounted with a gun, so that he
was now at the end of his tether. On the 17th he was recalled by
wireless, and after diving all night ran for Gallipoli at full speed,
pursued by a two-funnelled gunboat, a torpedo-boat and a tug, who
shepherded him one on each side and one astern, ‘evidently expecting,’
he thought, ‘to get me caught in the nets.’ But he adds,’did not notice
any nets,’ and after passing another two-funnelled gunboat, a large
yacht, a battle-ship and a number of tramps, the fire of the Chanak
forts and the minefield as before, he reached the entrance and rose
to the surface abeam of a French battle-ship of the St. Louis class,
who gave her fellow crusader a rousing cheer. Commander Boyle reported
that the success of this fine and sustained effort was mainly due to
his officers, Lieutenant Edward Stanley and Acting-Lieutenant Lawrence,
R.N.R., both of whom received the D.S.C. His own promotion to Commander
was underlined by the award of the V.C.
Within twelve hours of E. 14’s return, her successor, E. 11, was
proceeding towards the Straits. The commanding officer of this boat
was Lieut.-Commander M. E. Nasmith, who had already been mentioned in
despatches for rescuing five airmen while being attacked by a Zeppelin
in the Heligoland Bight during the action on Christmas Day, 1914. He
had been waiting his turn at the Dardanelles with some impatience,
and as E. 11’s port engine had been put completely out of action by
an accident on the voyage from Malta, he had begged to be allowed
to attempt the passage into the Marmora under one engine. This was
refused, but his repairs were finished in time for him to take the
place of E. 14.
He made the passage of the Straits successfully, reconnoitred the
Marmora and made a neat arrangement, probably suggested by the
adventures of E. 14, for saving the enemy the trouble of so much
hunting. He stopped a small coastal sailing vessel, sent Lieut. D’Oyly
Hughes to search her for contraband, and then trimmed well down and
made her fast alongside his conning-tower. Being now quite invisible
from the eastward, he was able to proceed in that direction all day
without interruption. At night he released his stalking-horse and
returned westward.
[Illustration: ‘Made her fast alongside his conning-tower.’]
Early on the 23rd, he observed a Turkish torpedo-boat at anchor off
Constantinople and sank her with a torpedo; but as she sank she fired a
6-pounder gun, the first shot of which damaged his foremost periscope.
He came up for repairs, and all hands took the chance of a bathe.
Five hours later he stopped a small steamer, whose crew did a ‘panic
abandon ship,’ capsizing all boats but one. ‘An American gentleman
then appeared on the upper deck, who informed us that his name was
Silas Q. Swing of the _Chicago Sun_ and that he was pleased to make our
acquaintance.... He wasn’t sure if there were any stores on board.’
Lieut. D’Oyly Hughes looked into the matter and discovered a 6-inch gun
lashed across the top of the fore hatch, and other gun-mountings in the
hold, which was also crammed with 6-inch and other ammunition marked
Krupp. A demolition charge sent ship and cargo to the bottom.
Lieut.-Commander Nasmith then chased and torpedoed a heavily laden
store-ship, and drove another ashore, exchanging rifle fire with a
party of horsemen on the cliff above. Altogether the day was a lively
one, and the news, brought by Mr. Silas Q. Swing and his friends,
shook Constantinople up severely. Mr. Einstein records that ‘the
submarine came up at 20 minutes to 2 o’clock, about three hundred
yards from where the American guardship _Scorpion_ lay moored, and was
immediately fired at by the shore batteries. It shot off two torpedoes;
the first missed a transport by about fifty yards, the second struck
the _Stamboul_ fair, passing under a barge moored alongside, which
blew up. The _Stamboul_ had a gap of twenty feet on her water-line
but did not sink. She was promptly towed toward Beshiktash to lie on
the bottom in shallow water. The submarine meanwhile, under a perfect
hail of fire, which passed uncomfortably close to the _Scorpion_,
dived and got away, steering up the Bosphorus. At Galata there was a
panic, everyone closing their shops; the troops, who were already on
two transports, were promptly disembarked, but later re-embarked, and
still later landed once more. The total damage was inconsiderable, but
the moral effect was very real.’ On the following day he adds, ‘S.’
(Swing, no doubt--Silas Q. Swing of the _Chicago Sun_) ‘came in with an
exciting tale. On his way to the Dardanelles the steamer, which carried
munitions and a 6-inch gun, had been torpedoed by an English submarine,
the E. 11. They allowed the crew to leave, and then sank the ship. The
English officer told him there were eleven submarines in the Marmora,
and these are holding up all the ships going to the Dardanelles. They
had sunk three transports full of troops, out of four which had been
sunk, and various other vessels, but do not touch those carrying
wounded.’
So, between Lieut. D’Oyly Hughes and Mr. Silas Q. Swing, the E. 11
became eleven submarines, and may go down the ages like the eleven
thousand virgins of Cologne. Her commander evidently hoped to create
a panic, and Mr. Einstein leaves us no doubt that the plan succeeded
to the full. On May 27 he writes again: ‘The Marmora is practically
closed by English submarines. Everyone asks where their depot is, and
how they are refurnished.’ May 28: ‘The submarines in the Marmora have
frightened the Turks, and all the remaining transports, save one, lie
tranquilly in the Golden Horn. Otherwise I have never seen the port so
empty. One wonders where the submarines have their base, and when and
how it was prepared.’ He adds, with some shrewdness: ‘Probably, if at
all, in some island of the Marmora, though the newer boats can stay out
a long time.’ E. 11 was far from new, as we have seen, but she was in
hands that could make her stand for quality as well as quantity.
Lieut.-Commander Nasmith brought his boat safely back to Mudros on June
7. The last hour of his trip was perhaps the most breathless, for
while rushing down by Kilid Bahr he found his trim quite abnormal, and
‘observed a large mine preceding the periscope at a distance of about
twenty feet; which was apparently hung up by its moorings to the port
hydroplane.’ He could not come to the surface, as the shore batteries
were waiting for him; but when outside Kum Kale, he emptied his
after-tanks, got his nose down, and went full speed astern, dropping
the mine neatly to the bottom. This was good work, but not better than
the skill shown in navigating shoal water, or ‘the resource displayed
in the delicate operation of recovering two torpedoes’ without the
usual derrick to hoist them in--an operation which may as well remain
for the present undescribed. Admiral de Robeck, in recommending
Lieut.-Commander Nasmith for the V.C., speaks of his cruise as one
‘which will surely find a place in the annals of the British Navy.’ It
will--there can be no forgetting it. The very log of E. 11 deserves to
be a classic. ‘Having dived unobserved into Constantinople ...,’ says
her Commander soberly, and so, without a thought of it, adds one to the
historic despatches of the Service.
It was now E. 14’s turn again. Commander Courtney Boyle took her up
on June 10, against a very strong tide. At 9 o’clock next morning he
stopped a brigantine, whose crew abandoned ship ‘and then all stood up
and cursed us. It was too rough to go alongside her, so Acting-Lieut.
R. W. Lawrence, R.N.R., swam off to her, climbed aboard, and ... set
fire to her with the aid of her own matches and paraffin oil.’ On the
12th one of the Rickmers steamers was torpedoed. Shortly afterwards
there was a big explosion close to the submarine. ‘And I think,’ says
her commander, ‘I must have caught the moorings of a mine with my tail
as I was turning, and exploded it.... The whole boat was very badly
shaken.’ But _Lily Rickmers_ and her sister were now both removed from
the Turkish service, for E. 11 had evidently accounted for one of them
already. Mr. Einstein writes on June 13: ‘The German Embassy approached
us to cable Washington to protest about the torpedoing without warning
of the two Rickmers steamers in the Marmora. One of these was said to
be filled with wounded, but their note neglected to say that these
had been discharged from hospital and were on their way back to the
Dardanelles.’ Only a German diplomatist could speak of a ship carrying
troops to the front as ‘filled with wounded’; and Mr. Einstein adds,
‘One cannot but be struck by the German inability to understand our
position over the _Lusitania_.’ The point is plain, and goes deep. To
the modern German mind all such considerations are only a matter of
words, useful for argumentative purposes--that there should be any
truth of reality or feeling behind them is not imaginable.
The rest of this log is a record of destruction, but destruction on
thoroughly un-German methods. ‘June 20.--Boarded and sank 3 sailing
dhows ... towed the crew inshore and gave them some biscuit, beef, rum,
and water, as they were rather wet.’ ‘June 22.--Let go passenger ship.’
23.--‘Burnt two-master, and started to tow crew in their boat, but had
to dive. Stopped two dhows: they were both empty and the crews looked
so miserable that I only sunk one and let the other go.’ 24.--‘Blew up
2 large dhows: there was another one about a mile off with no boat ...
and thought I saw two heads in the water. Turned round and found that
there were 2 men in the water at least half a mile from their dhow.
Picked them up: they were quite exhausted: gave them food and drink,
and put them on board their ship. They had evidently seen the other two
dhows blown up and were frightened out of their wits.’ There is nothing
here to boast about--to us, nothing surprising. But it brings to mind
inevitably the evidence upon which our enemies stand convicted. We
remember the long roll of men and women not only set adrift in stormy
seas, but shot and drowned in their open boats without pity and without
cause. We admit the courage of the Hun, but we cannot admire it. It is
too near to animal ferocity, and stained with a cruelty and callousness
which are not even beast-like.
On June 21, Commander Boyle had rendezvoused with E. 12,
Lieut.-Commander K. M. Bruce. ‘I got her alongside, and we remained
tied up for 3 hours.’ From this time onward the reliefs were arranged
to overlap, so that there were nearly always two boats operating at
the same time in the Marmora. Lieut.-Commander Bruce came up on June
19, and found, like others, that the chief difficulty of forcing the
passage was the heating of the main motors on so long and strenuous a
run.
The one great day of his nine days’ patrol was June 25, when he brought
off a hand-to-hand fight on the surface with three enemy ships. At
10.45 in the morning he sighted, in the Gulf of Mudania, a small
two-decked passenger steamer. ‘She looked,’ he says, ‘rather like a
tram-car, and was towing two sailing-vessels. In the distance was a
sister of hers, towing three more.’ He chased, and soon stopped the
nearer steamer. He could see, as he steamed round her, that she was
carrying a lot of stores. She had no boat, and all the crew appeared to
be on deck in lifebelts. He could see no sign of guns, so he ran his
bow up alongside and sent his first-lieutenant, Tristram Fox, to board
her. But guns are not the only risk a submarine has to take on such
occasions. As the boarding party stepped on board the steamer, a Turk
heaved a bomb over the side. It hit E. 12 forward, but did not explode,
and no second one followed. The Turks, however, meant fighting, and
they opened fire with rifles and a small gun, concealed somewhere aft.
The situation was a very anxious one, especially for Lieutenant Fox
and his boarding party; for they knew their own ship must open fire in
return, and it was difficult to take cover on an enemy ship in action.
Lieut.-Commander Bruce was in a very tight corner, but he kept his head
and played his game without a mistake. He did not hesitate to open fire
with his 6-pounder, but he began upon the enemy’s stern, where the gun
was concealed, and having dealt with that he turned to her other end
and put ten shots into her from fore to aft. His men shot steadily,
though under gun and rifle fire at a range of only ten yards, and his
coxswain, Charles Case, who was with him in the conning-tower, passed
up the ammunition. Spare men, with rifles, kept the Turks’ heads down,
and all seemed to be going well, when the two sailing-ships in tow
began a new and very plucky move of their own. They came in to foul the
submarine’s propellers, and at the same time opened fire with rifles,
taking E. 12 in flank. But by this time the steamer was beaten, and the
British rifles soon silenced those in the sailing-ships. Then, as soon
as Lieut.-Commander Bruce had cleared the steamer, he sank the three
of them. The steamer had probably been carrying ammunition as well as
stores, for one of the shots from the 6-pounder touched off something
explosive in her forward part. In fifteen minutes she was at the bottom.
Lieut.-Commander Bruce was already thinking of the other steamer with
the three sailing-ships in tow. She was diligently making for the
shore, and he had to open fire at her at 2000 yards. As he closed, the
fire was returned, not only from the ship but from a gun on shore; but
by this time he had hit the enemy aft, and set her on fire forward. She
beached herself, and as the three sailing-ships had been slipped and
were also close under the shore, he had no choice but to leave them.
E. 12’s injuries were miraculously slight--her commander’s account of
them is slighter still. ‘I was very much hampered,’ he says, ‘in my
movements and took some minutes to get clear of the first steamer. But
only one man was hurt, by a splinter from the steamer.’ This was quite
in accordance with the old English rule of the gun-decks: to hit and
be missed there’s nothing like closing. The story of this fine little
scrimmage ends with the special recommendation by Lieut.-Commander
Bruce of his first-lieutenant, Tristram Fox, ‘who behaved exceedingly
well under very trying circumstances,’ and of his coxswain, Charles
Case, and three seamen--they all received the Distinguished Service
Medal. Of the commander himself we shall hear again presently.
E. 12 was recalled on June 28, leaving E. 14 still at work; and on
the 30th her place was taken by E. 7, Lieut.-Commander Cochrane. On
the way up, a torpedo from a tube on shore passed over him, and a
destroyer made two attempts to ram him, but he got safely through and
rendezvoused with E. 14 on the following evening. His misfortunes
began next day, when Lieut. Hallifax and an A.B. were badly burned
by an explosion in the hold of a captured steamer. Then dysentery
attacked the two remaining officers and the telegraphist. Work became
very arduous, but work was done notwithstanding. Ship after ship was
sunk--five steamers and sixteen sailing-ships in all. One of the
steamers was ‘a Mahsousie ship, the _Biga_,’ of about 3,000 tons. She
was lying alongside Mudania Pier, with sailing-vessels moored outside
the pier to protect her. But Lieut.-Commander Cochrane saw daylight
between this barrage and his prey; he dived under the sailing-ships,
and up went the _Biga_ with a very heavy explosion.
On July 17, he tried a new method of harassing the Turkish army. He
came up opposite Kara Burnu and opened fire on the railway cutting
west of it, blocking the line--then dived, and went on to Derinjie
Burnu. The shipyard there was closed, but he observed a heavy troop
train steaming west, towards the block he had so carefully established
just before. He followed up at full speed, and after twenty minutes of
anxious hope saw the train returning baffled. It eventually stopped
in a belt of trees at Yarandji Station; this made spotting difficult,
but E. 7’s gunnery was good enough. After twenty rounds the three
ammunition cars of the train were definitely blown up, and E. 7 could
move back to Kara Burnu, where she shelled another train and hit it
several times.
All this was very disturbing to the Turks, and they tried every means
to stop it at the source. They had already a net in the channel, but it
was quite ineffectual. ‘Now,’ says Mr. Einstein on July 15, ‘it turns
out that they have constructed a barrage of network to keep out the
submarines from the Dardanelles, and this explains the removal of the
buoys all along the Bosphorus. They need these, and especially their
chains, to keep it in place.’ A week later, Lieut.-Commander Cochrane
saw these buoys on his way down. They were in a long line, painted
alternately red and black, and stretching from a position a mile north
of Maitos village to a steamer moored in Nagara Liman. He dived under
them and went on his way; but later on, below Kilid Bahr, the boat
fouled a moorings forward and was completely hung up, swinging round,
head to tide. By admirable management she was got clear in half an
hour, and then the same thing happened again. ‘This time,’ says her
commander coolly, ‘I think the boat carried the obstruction with her
for some distance. I was expecting to see something foul when we came
to the surface, but everything was clear then.’ What he and his men
saw, during those two half-hours, might also be described as ‘something
foul.’
The cruise of E. 7 lasted for over three weeks, from June 30 to July
24. On July 21, Commander Courtney Boyle brought up E. 14 once more.
He, too, saw the new net near Nagara, ‘a line of what looked like
lighters half-way across, and one small steamship in the vicinity.’
But he passed through the gate in it without touching anything. This
was lucky, as he had already scraped against an obstruction off Kilid
Bahr and cut his guard wire nearly through. Once up, he got to work at
once, and in a busy and adventurous three weeks he sank one steamer,
one supply ship, seven dhows and thirteen sailing-vessels. In short, he
made himself master of the Marmora. The complete interruption of the
Turkish sea communications was proved by the statements of prisoners.
The captain of one ship stated that Constantinople was full of wounded
and short of food, and that the troops now all went to Rodosto by rail
and then marched to Gallipoli--six hours in the train and three days
and nights marching, instead of a short and simple voyage. All the
Turkish war-ships were above the second bridge in the Golden Horn,
and they never ventured out. There were no steamers going to sea--all
supplies to Gallipoli went in sailing craft, towed by destroyers under
cover of darkness. It is clear that, to the Turkish imagination, E. 14
was like E. 11--very much in the plural number. On August 5, E. 11
herself came on duty again, and the two boats met at rendezvous at 2
P.M. next day. Half an hour afterwards, Commanders Boyle and Nasmith
started on their first hunt in couples. Their quarry was a gunboat of
the Berki-Satvet class. The chase was a lively one, and it was E. 11,
in the end, who made the kill with a torpedo amidships. Then the two
boats came alongside again and their commanders concerted a plan for
shelling troops next day.
They took up their positions in the early morning hours, and waited
for the game to come past. Commander Nasmith had been given the better
stand of the two; at 11.30 A.M. he observed troops going towards
Gallipoli, rose to the surface and fired. Several of his shots dropped
well among them and they scattered. In less than an hour another column
approached along the same road. E. 11 had retired, so to speak, into
her butt; she now stepped up again, raised her gun, and made good
shooting as before. ‘The column took cover in open order.’
In the meantime Commander Boyle had been diving up and down all the
morning between Fort Victoria and a point four miles up the coast to
the east, about a mile from shore. Three times he came to the surface,
but each time the troops turned out to be bullocks. At 1.30 P.M. (when
he came up for the fourth time) more dust was coming down the road, and
this time it was the right kind of dust. As he opened fire he heard
E. 11 banging away. She had left the place where he had stationed her,
to the N.E. of Dohan Aslan Bank, and had come down to join him in his
billet. The two boats then conducted a joint action for the best part
of an hour. Commander Boyle got off forty rounds, of which about six
burst on the road among the troops, and one in a large building. But
the distance was almost beyond his 6-pounder’s reach. He had to put
the full range on the sights, and then aim at the top of the hill, so
that his fire was less accurate than that of Commander Nasmith with his
12-pounder. E. 11 had strewed the road with a large number of dead and
wounded, when guns on shore came into action and forced her to dive.
She came up again an hour and a half later and dispersed the troops
afresh, but once more had to dive for her life.
Next day, Commander Boyle ordered E. 11 to change billets with him,
and both boats had luck, Commander Boyle destroying a 5,000-ton supply
steamer with torpedo and gunfire, and Commander Nasmith bagging a
battle-ship. This last was the _Haireddin Barbarossa_. She was passing
about five miles N.E. of Gallipoli, escorted by a destroyer. E. 11
was skilfully brought into position on her starboard beam, and the
torpedo got home amidships. The _Barbarossa_ immediately took a list
to starboard, altered course towards the shore, and opened a heavy
fire on the submarine’s periscope. But she was mortally hit. Within
twenty minutes a large flash burst from her fore part, and she rolled
over and sank. To lose their last battleship, and so near home, was a
severe blow for the Turks, and they made every effort to conceal the
depressing details. Mr. Einstein, however, heard them and makes an
interesting entry. ‘The _Barbarossa_ was sunk in the Marmora and not in
the Dardanelles, as officially announced. She was convoying barges full
of munitions and also two transports, when she found herself surrounded
by six submarines.’ It is creditable to Commander Nasmith that he did
so well with only six of his E. 11 flotilla. Einstein continues: ‘The
transports were supposed to protect her, but the second torpedo proved
effective and she sank in seven minutes. One of the transports and a
gunboat were also sunk, the other ran aground. Of crews of 700, only
one-third were saved.’ And on August 15 he records further successes by
Commander Nasmith--a large collier, the _Ispahan_, sunk while unloading
in the port of Haidar Pasha, the submarine creeping up under the lee
of another boat; and two transports with supplies, the _Chios_ and the
_Samsoun_, sunk in the Marmora.
[Illustration: ‘She was mortally hit.’]
Commander Boyle returned to his base on August 12, with no further
difficulty than a brush against a mine and a rough-and-tumble encounter
with an electric wire obstruction, portions of which he carried away
tangled round his periscope and propellers. His boat had now done over
12,000 miles since leaving England and had never been out of running
order--a magnificent performance, reported by her commander to be
primarily due to the excellence of his chief engine-room artificer,
James Hollier Hague, who was accordingly promoted to warrant rank, as
from the date of the recommendation.
E. 14 was succeeded on August 13 by E. 2, Commander David Stocks, who
met Commander Nasmith at 2 P.M. next day, and handed over a fresh
supply of ammunition for E. 11. He also, no doubt, told him the story
of his voyage up. Off Nagara his boat had fouled an obstruction, and
through the conning-tower scuttles he could see that a 3½-inch wire
was wound with a half turn round his gun, a smaller wire round the
conning-tower itself, and another round the wireless standard aft. It
took him ten minutes’ plunging and backing to clear this and regain
control; and during those ten minutes, small explosions were heard
continuously. These were apparently from bombs thrown by guard boats;
but a series of loud explosions, a little later, were probably from
shells fired by a destroyer which was following up, and was still
overhead an hour afterwards.
The two boats parted again, taking separate beats, and spent a week
in sinking steamers, boarding hospital ships, and bombarding railway
stations. When they met again on the evening of August 21, Commander
Nasmith had a new kind of yarn to tell. His lieutenant, D’Oyly Hughes,
had volunteered to make an attack on the Ismid Railway, and a whole day
had been spent behind Kalolimno Island in constructing a raft capable
of carrying one man and a demolition charge of gun-cotton. Then the
raft had been tested by a bathing party, and the details of the plan
most carefully laid out.
The object was to destroy the viaduct if possible; but, in any case,
to blow up part of the line. The risk involved not only the devoted
adventurer himself, but the boat as well, for she could not, so long
as he had still a chance of returning, quit the neighbourhood or even
conceal herself by submerging. The approach was in itself an operation
of the greatest delicacy. Commander Nasmith took his boat slowly
towards the shore until her nose just grounded, only three yards from
the rocks. The cliffs on each side were high enough to prevent the
conning-tower being seen while in this position. At 2.10 A.M. Lieut.
D’Oyly Hughes dropped into the water and swam off, pushing the raft
with his bale of gun-cotton, and his clothes and accoutrements, towards
a spot some sixty yards on the port bow of the boat. His weapons were
an automatic service revolver and a sharpened bayonet. He also had an
electric torch and a whistle. At the point where he landed he found the
cliffs unscalable. So he relaunched his raft and swam along to a better
place. He reached the top after a stiff climb, approached the railway
line by a careful prowl of half an hour, and went along it for five or
six hundred yards, hugging his heavy and cumbersome charge. Voices then
brought him up short. He peered about and saw three men sitting by the
side of the line. After watching them for some time he decided that
they were not likely to move, and that he must make a wide detour in
order to inspect the viaduct. He laid down his gun-cotton, and crept
inland, making good progress except for falling into a small farmyard,
where the fowls, but luckily not the household, awoke and protested. At
last he got within three hundred yards of the viaduct. It was easy to
see, for there was a fire burning at the near end of it; but there was
also a stationary engine working, and a number of workmen moving about.
Evidently it would be impossible to bring up and lay his charge there.
He crept back therefore to his gun-cotton and looked about for a
convenient spot to blow up the line. The best place seemed to be a low
brick-work support over a small hollow. It was only 150 yards from the
three men sitting by the line; but there was no other spot where so
much damage could be done, and Lieut. D’Oyly Hughes was a volunteer,
prepared to take risks. He muffled the pistol for firing the fuse as
tightly as possible, with a piece of rag, and pulled off. On so still
a night it made a very loud noise. The three Turks heard it and he saw
them instantly stand up. The next moment they were running down the
line, with Lieutenant D’Oyly Hughes going his best in front of them.
But a chase of this kind was not what he wanted. His present object
was to find a quiet spot on the shore where he could take to the water
undisturbed, and he had no time to lose. He turned on his pursuers and
fired a couple of shots; the Turks were not hit, but they remembered
their own weapons and began firing too, which was just the relief
Lieut. Hughes needed.
He had already decided against trying to climb down by the way he had
come up; but after a considerable run eastward, he struck the shore
more conveniently about three-quarters of a mile from the small bay in
which E. 11 was lying. As he plunged into the water, he had the joy of
hearing the sound of a heavy explosion. His charge had hung fire for a
long time, but when it went it went well; fragments were hurled between
a quarter and half a mile, and fell into the sea near the boat. There
could be no doubt that the line was effectively cut; and he could now
give his whole attention to saving an officer to the Service.
This was the most desperate part of the affair. After swimming some
four hundred or five hundred yards out to sea, he blew a long blast
on his whistle; but the boat was behind the cliffs in her little bay
and failed to hear him. Day was breaking rapidly; the time of waiting
for him must, he knew, be limited. With a decision and coolness beyond
comment he swam ashore again and rested for a short time on the
rocks--then swam off once more, directly towards the boat. Before he
reached the bay, he had to discard in turn his pistol, his bayonet, and
his electric torch. At last he rounded the point and his whistle was
heard; but, at the same moment, shouts came from the cliffs overhead,
and rifle fire opened on the boat.
She immediately backed, and came slowly astern out of the bay, intent
only upon picking up Lieut. D’Oyly Hughes. But now came the most
extraordinary part of the whole adventure. In the early morning mist
the bow, the gun, and the conning-tower of the submarine appeared to
her distressed officer to be three small rowing-boats advancing towards
him, and rowing-boats could only mean enemies. He turned, swam ashore,
and tried to hide himself under the cliffs. But he did not lose his
head, and after climbing a few feet he looked back and realised his
mistake. He shouted and plunged in again. Forty yards from the rocks he
was at last picked up, nearly done, for he had run hard for his life
and swum a mile in his clothes. But he had done his work and E. 11 was
proud of him, as appears from the concluding sentence in her log: ‘5.5
A.M. Dived out of rifle fire, and proceeded out of the Gulf of Ismid.’
Commander Nasmith ended his cruise with a brilliant week’s work. On
August 22 he fought an action with three armed tugs, a dhow, and a
destroyer; succeeded most adroitly in evading the destroyer, sinking
the dhow and one of the tugs by gunfire, and capturing a number of
prisoners, among whom was a German bank manager with a quantity of
money for Chanak Bank. The prisoners willingly helped to discharge the
cargo of another captured ship--they were apparently much surprised
at being granted their lives. On the 25th, two large transports were
sunk with torpedoes; on the 28th, E. 11 and E. 2, in company, bombarded
the magazine and railway station at Mudania. On September 1, Commander
Nasmith had an hour’s deliberate shooting at the railway viaduct,
scoring a large number of hits; and on the 3rd he returned without
misadventure to his base.
Left to herself, E. 2 now found that she also possessed a heroic
lieutenant. Under the date September 7 there stands the brief record:
‘Lieutenant Lyon swam to and destroyed two dhows.’ The story, so
well begun, ends next day. At 2.15 A.M. this adventurer, like the
other, swam off with a raft and bag of gun-cotton. His object, like
the other’s, was to destroy a railway bridge. His friends watched
him until, at seventy yards’ distance, he faded into the dusk. From
that moment onwards no sound was ever heard from him. The night was
absolutely still, and noises on shore were distinctly audible; but
nothing like a signal ever came. It had been agreed that if any trouble
arose he should fire his Webley pistol, and the submarine should then
show a red light and open fire on the station, which was 300 yards
distant. For five hours she remained there waiting. An explosion was
heard, but nothing followed, and broad daylight found Commander Stocks
still waiting with desperate loyalty. At 7.15 he dived out to sea. An
hour later he came to the surface and cruised about the place, hoping
that Lyon had managed somehow to get into a boat or dhow. There were
several near the village, and he might be lying off in one. But no boat
drifted out, then or afterwards. Commander Stocks came again at dawn
next day--perhaps, as he said, to bombard the railway station, perhaps
for another reason. Six days later he dived for home, breaking right
through the Nagara net, by a new and daring method of his own.
It was now Lieut.-Commander Bruce’s turn again, and he passed all
records by patrolling the Marmora successfully in E. 12 for forty days.
He had two other boats in company during part of this time--E. 20
and H. 1--and with the latter’s help he carried out a very pretty
‘spread attack’ on a gunboat off Kalolimno, on October 17. The
intended manœuvre was for E. 12 to rise suddenly and drive the enemy
by gunfire over H. 1, who dived at the first gun. The first drive
failed, the second was beautifully managed; but, in the bad light of an
approaching squall, H. 1’s torpedo missed. In a third attempt the bird
was reported hit by several shells, but she escaped in the darkness.
Lieut.-Commander Bruce also did good shooting at a powder factory
near Constantinople; sank some shipping, and made some remarkable
experiments with a new method of signalling. But his greatest
experience was his return journey.
He had passed through the net, he thought, but suddenly observed that
he was towing a portion of it with him. The boat began to sink quickly,
bows down; the foremost hydroplane jammed. He immediately forced her
nose up, by blowing ballast tanks and driving her at full speed. But,
even in that position, she continued to sink till she reached 245 feet.
At that depth the pressure was tremendous. The conning-tower scuttles
burst in, and the conning-tower filled with water. The boat leaked
badly, and the fore compartment had to be closed off to prevent the
water getting into the battery, where it would have produced the fatal
fumes of chlorine gas.
For ten mortal minutes the commander wrestled with his boat. At last,
by putting three men on to the hydroplane with hand-gear, he forced
the planes to work and the boat rose. He just managed to check her
at twelve feet and got her down to fifty, but even at that depth six
patrol vessels could be heard firing at her--probably she was still
towing something which made a wake on the surface.
Blind, and almost unmanageable, E. 12 continued to plunge up and down,
making very little way beyond Nagara. The conning-tower and its compass
were out of action, but the commander conned his boat from the main
gyro compass, and when both diving gauges failed he used the gauge
by the periscope. The climax was reached when at eighty feet, just
to the south of Kilid Bahr, another obstruction was met and carried
away. But this was a stroke of luck, for when the commander, by a real
inspiration, put on full speed ahead and worked his helm, the new
entanglement slid along the side of the boat and carried away with it
the old one from Nagara. The boat rose steeply by the bow and broke
surface. Shore batteries and patrols opened fire, and a small shell
cracked the conning-tower; others hit the bridge, and two torpedoes
narrowly missed her astern. But she came safely through to Helles, and
reached her base after a cruise of over 2,000 miles.
H. 1 also put nearly 2,000 miles to her credit, though her cruise
lasted only thirty days, as against E. 12’s forty. Lieutenant Wilfred
Pirie, her commander, took a hand in Lieut.-Commander Bruce’s
signalling experiments and co-operated in several of his military
enterprises, as we have already seen. He also worked with E. 20 and was
the last to meet her. This was on October 31, the day before he dived
for home. After that, nothing more was heard of her till December 5,
when Commander Nasmith, who was once more in the Marmora with E. 11,
captured a Shirket steamer and obtained much information from the
captain, a French-speaking Turk. According to his statement, E. 20 had
been ambushed, and her officers and crew taken prisoners. He also gave
details of the German submarines based at Constantinople--he thought
there were ten of them, including three large ones. Before accepting
this, we shall do well to refer again to Mr. Einstein, who reports
four small boats coming from Pola, of which only three arrived; and
one larger one, U. 51, of which he tells an amusing story. U. 51 had
been at Constantinople, but during August she went out and did not
return; it was rumoured that she had gone home, or been sunk. Then
the Turks were electrified by news of the arrival of a new German
super-submarine, over two hundred feet long. All Constantinople crowded
to see her go out on August 30. ‘Departure from Golden Horn of a new
giant German submarine, the U. 54, over 200 feet long and with complete
wireless apparatus.’ Next day: ‘The U. 54 turns out to be our old
friend U. 51, with another number painted.’ On September 2 Mr. Einstein
adds sarcastically: ‘Report that U. 54 was badly damaged by a Turkish
battery at Silivri.... To mask this, they are spreading the rumour
that an English submarine ran aground, and will doubtless bring in the
German boat under a false number as though she were a captured prey.’
And two days later he was justified--‘U. 54 lies damaged in the Golden
Horn from the fire of a Turkish battery. The reported sinking of an
English boat is a downright lie.’
Commander Nasmith went down the Straits on December 23, after a record
cruise of forty-eight days. In that time he sank no less than forty-six
enemy ships, including a destroyer, the _Var Hissar_, and ten steamers.
A fortnight before he left, E. 2, Commander Stocks, came up, and did
good work in very bad weather, until she was recalled on January 2,
1916. The season was over, and she found, in passing down the Straits,
that the Turkish net had apparently been removed, either by the enemy
themselves, or perhaps by the wear and tear of British submarines
repeatedly charging it and carrying it away piecemeal.
So ended our Eastern submarine campaign--a campaign in which our boats
successfully achieved their military objects--in which, too, the skill
of our officers and men was only surpassed by their courage, and by
their chivalrous regard for the enemies whom they defeated.