THE END OF THE "BLUECHER."
THE "Livingstone," second destroyer in the port-column of the
flotilla, was speeding through the long undulations of the North Sea
at a modest twenty knots. It was barely a quarter past seven on
Sunday morning. Dawn had not begun to show in the eastern sky, and
although a dozen or so of the destroyers were in company, only the
partly-screened stern lights of the one ahead and the phosphorescent
swirl of the one next astern betrayed the presence of others of the
flotilla.
Something was in the air. Officers and crew knew that, but vaguely.
Orders, significant in their brevity, had been issued overnight for
the ship's company to bathe and change into clean clothes. That in
itself meant the possibility of an action, while the sudden call to
the flotilla to proceed to sea instead of completing the fortnight's
"stand-by" in the Forth indicated that no minor operations were
contemplated.
The "Livingstone" was cleared for action. Ammunition had been served
up, fire hoses rigged, deck fittings removed, and every other
possible precaution taken to safeguard the frail craft in the
impending action.
The crew were on the tip-toe of expectation: eager to get in touch
with the enemy and fearful lest they should find themselves out on a
wild-goose chase.
The action, should it materialize, would not be of a minor character,
for broad on the starboard beam of the flotilla, though invisible in
the darkness, were the giant battle-cruisers "Lion," "Tiger,"
"Princess Royal," "New Zealand," and "Indomitable."
Flung out, fanwise, were the handy and hard-hitting light-cruisers,
supported by other destroyer flotillas, and serving as a screen to
the battle-cruisers should any hostile torpedo-craft attempt their
vaunted "lancer-thrust" against them.
"Something doin' this time, Aubyn," remarked Gilroy, who was
responsible for keeping the "Livingstone" in station. "Wireless from
the 'Arethusa' just through, reporting strong enemy squadron.
There--look."
The sub. turned his head just in time to catch the flash of a distant
gun, quickly followed by another and another. Half a minute later
came the dull rumble of the first report. The light-cruisers were in
touch with the enemy away to sou'-sou'-east.
A signal lamp flickered from the flagship:--
"All destroyer flotillas proceed to support the light-cruisers.
Engage enemy destroyers."
Like hounds released from leash the long, lean, black-hulled craft
dashed forward. No need to give a compass course: the now
rapidly-recurring flashes told them where their work lay.
Under copious supplies of oil fuel, the "Livingstone's" engines
quickly developed more horse-power than they had ever done before.
Trailing lurid flames issued from her four squat funnels, and threw
their ruddy glare upon the determined faces of the guns'-crews.
Ahead, and on the starboard hand, and astern the position of the rest
of the flotilla was likewise indicated by the spurts of flames from
their furnaces. Noxious oil-fumed smoke belched in dense columns,
glowing like fanned charcoal as it eddied clear of the funnels. The
scene resembled a section of the Black Country transferred bodily to
the North Sea on a pitch-dark night.
"By Jove, we're in luck!" shouted Gilroy, in order to make himself
heard above the hiss of the wind as the destroyer tore at thirty-six
knots towards the scene of action. "We've just picked up a wireless
to the Flag. We're up against the 'Moltke,' 'Seydlitz,' and
'Derfflinger,' three of Germany's best battle-cruisers, with that old
crock the 'Bluecher' chucked in, to say nothing of a swarm of
light-cruisers and destroyers. Beatty's got his chance this time:
he'll bag the lot with the force he has at his disposal."
And the lieutenant pointed in the direction of the British
battle-cruisers, whose position could now be faintly distinguished,
well on the port beam, by the splash of flame from their funnels.
"We'll give them something in return for Scarborough, Whitby, and
Hartlepool," continued Gilroy. "Ten to one the beggars were off to
try the same game again. By Jove! I pity any German submarine that
gets foul of that crowd," and he indicated the far spread-out line of
destroyers speeding towards their foes.
Just then the lieutenant-commander of the "Livingstone" ascended the
bridge.
"Rotten luck, Gilroy," he announced. "The Germans are funking it.
They've turned tail."
"The battle-cruisers will head them off yet, sir," suggested Gilroy
confidently.
"I hope so--ha! what's this?"
A signalman had just hurried up.
"Destroyers to take up position on battle-cruiser's port quarter,"
said the skipper. "Confound it! That's put the pot on it, Gilroy."
"It's our smoke, sir, that's troubling the 'Lion,'" replied the
lieutenant.
Dawn had now broken sufficiently to discern the lofty hulls, triple
funnels, and masts of the five battle-cruisers, as they raced at
their maximum speed on a south-easterly course. The four guns of the
two foremost superimposed turrets of the "Lion" were already trained
to their greatest elevation, awaiting the report of the fire-control
platform that their quarry was within hitting distance.
Gilroy was right. The smoke from the destroyers was drifting across
the line of fire of the giant ships.
"It's a case of get out and get under--their lee," commented the
lieutenant-commander, as a signal was sent up from the parent ship of
the flotilla ordering the destroyers to fall back out of the way of
the hard-hitters of the fleet.
As the day dawned the thick haze of smoke that marked the position of
the runaway raiders could be seen, although from the bridge of the
destroyer the hostile ships were invisible. The cannonading away to
the sou'-east had now ceased; apparently the enemy torpedo-boats had
attained a temporary security under the wing of their larger craft.
Suddenly Terence remembered that he had not had his breakfast.
Although it was not his watch, excitement had kept him on deck, and
now in the lull the workings of the inner man demanded attention. It
was a quarter to nine when he entered the mess. Three minutes later,
before the steward had time to bring in the coffee, a terrific
detonation caused the "Livingstone" to shake like an aspen leaf.
Breakfast completely forgotten, the sub. dashed on deck. He knew what
had happened: the "Lion" had fired the opening shot of the engagement
with one of her monster 13.5-in. guns.
She was not yet within range. Terence realized that by the fact that
she did not follow the single shot by salvo after salvo, that the
projectile--weighing nearly a ton--had shrieked ineffectually towards
the rearmost of the German ships.
To the sub. it seemed as if the fifty odd feet of steel cylinder that
projected from the "Lion's" B turret was rising slowly on its
complicated mountings. Obedient to the master-hand in the
fire-control platform the giant weapon was being "laid" upon an
invisible target 20,000 yards away.
Then--_flash! crash!_
Flames of cordite enveloped the whole of the fore-part of the "Lion."
Above the bank of haze from the so-called smokeless powder, the
gunnery-lieutenant in the fire-control platform was coolly watching
the result of his second trial shot.
There was no doubt about it. The British battle-cruisers, pelting
along at 28 1/2 knots, were slowly but surely overtaking their prey.
Already the "Bluecher," credited with but a fraction over 25 knots,
was falling astern of her consorts. In their frantic dash for the
safety of their own mine-fields the three swifter vessels paid no
heed to the fact that one of their own ships was sooner or later to
bear the brunt of the Englishmen's guns.
Naval chivalry which caused the gallant "Monmouth" to share the fate
of the luckless "Good Hope" in the action off Coronel was found
wanting amongst the disciples of "kultur." Instead of attempting to
cover the "Bluecher's" retreat, the "Derfflinger" and her
fellow-raiders ran, abandoning her to her fate.
Terence glanced at his watch as the first salvo burst from the
avenging "Lion." It was nearly ten minutes past nine. Truly, he
thought, it was a magnificent sight to see Beatty's flagship wreaking
vengeance upon the cowardly bombarders of Scarborough; yet in the
light of a general action it seemed a one-sided affair, as shell
after shell sped on its way towards the still invisible German ships
and none came in reply.
Gilroy, perched upon the bridge weather-rail, was coolly taking
snapshots of the "Flag" with a pocket kodak. The men of the destroyer
were so impressed by the sight of the "Lion" in action that it was
with the greatest difficulty that they could be brought to realize
their position: to watch for any lurking submarine that might seize
an opportunity of loosing a torpedo against the swiftly-moving mass
of 26,000 tons displacement.
A column of spray flung high in the air at fifty feet from the
"Lion's" starboard beam announced the fact that the German
battle-cruisers had been overhauled sufficiently for them to get the
range of their pursuers. Then shell after shell began to fall around
the flagship. Occasionally a projectile would strike a glancing blow
against the armoured sides of the British vessel, but unswervingly
she held on, if anything increasing her rapidity of fire.
A hoist of flags fluttered up to the signal yard arm of the "Lion"
and stood out as stiff as if made of sheet iron in the strong breeze.
From the leader of the flotilla came the answering pendant, each of
the destroyers acknowledging the signal in turn. Enemy torpedo-boats
were threatening an attack, and the British destroyers were to beat
off the hornets that had the audacity to attempt to hurl themselves
within torpedo-range of the battle-cruisers.
"Now for it," thought Aubyn, as he left the bridge and took up his
station at the after 4-in. gun.
Swift as was the "Lion" the speed of the destroyers was greater.
Forging ahead they left the battle-cruisers well on the starboard
quarter. Heavy projectiles, passing handsomely over the short masts
of the "Livingstone" and her consorts "straddled" the "Lion," some
falling short, others ricochetting from the water two hundred yards
in her wake.
The contest between the rival destroyer flotillas was of short
duration. Apparently the German boats had no intention of joining
action. It was merely a manoeuvre on their part to screen their
already severely damaged battle-cruisers by means of dense columns of
smoke.
In a sense they were successful, for under cover of the pall of black
vapour the larger German ships altered course and steered in a
northerly direction, but as the torpedo-boats drew off Terence
discerned for the first time one of the enemy battle-cruisers.
She was listing heavily to port. Flames were bursting from her
amidships, her funnels had disappeared and two legs of her tripod
mast. Yet in spite of her damaged condition she was endeavouring to
crawl out of line, slowly shaping a course to the nor'-nor'-west.
Still firing as she wallowed in her death-agony, she was being marked
for special attention by the "Indomitable," which, under the
admiral's orders, had hauled to port to complete the work of
destruction.
"Hurrah! The 'Bluecher's' done for!" shouted the torpedo-gunner of
the "Livingstone."
Terence could hardly believe his eyes. Was that battered wreck the
same vessel that a few weeks before he had seen pouring death and
destruction into the peaceful town of Scarborough?
He brought his glasses to bear upon the ill-fated raider. In spite of
her enormously thick armour huge rents were plainly visible in her
sides. One of her heavy gun-turrets had been blown clean away. 'Tween
decks the greater part of her was a glowing furnace. It seemed a
marvel how the crew could maintain even the feeblest fire, yet, under
the influence of morphia supplied by their officers, half-dazed men
still worked the remaining effective guns with the ferocity of
madmen.
Then the "Tiger," showing scars of honourable wounds, but still
vitally intact, came up, hurling shell after shell into the doomed
vessel.
Cat-like in her death-agonies the "Bluecher" sought to deal her
antagonist a _coup de grâce_ by letting loose a torpedo.
Keenly alert to such a possibility, the cool and collected captain of
the British battle-cruiser detected the ripples that marked the
approach of the deadly "tin-fish." Ordering the "Tiger's" helm to be
put hard over, he had the satisfaction of seeing the torpedo miss its
mark by a bare twenty feet.
As the "Bluecher" showed no sign of surrendering it was necessary to
hasten her end. Looming up through the black and yellow smoke that
drifted in huge volumes to lee'ard came the saucy "Arethusa."
Fearless in the midst of a rain of light projectiles her torpedo-men
gathered round two of her above-water tubes. At any moment a fragment
of a shell might strike the warheads of the two missiles ere they
took the water, and send the light-cruiser to her doom.
Like a trick swimmer making a clean dive, the first of the gleaming
cylinders left the tube and disappeared amidst the feathery spray.
Five seconds later the second torpedo sped on its way to destruction.
The first alone would have been sufficient. Striking the "Bluecher"
fairly amidships the powerful weapon blew a gaping hole in the hull
of the already foundering vessel. More and more she heeled, till the
whole length of her bilge keel became visible.
With the characteristic consideration to a beaten foe the British
vessels ceased firing. Instinctively the German sailors knew that
they were free to leave the doubtful shelter of the armoured portions
of the ship and to save themselves, if possible.
Aft poured the scorched and dazed survivors of the ship's company,
forming up upon the steeply shelving deck. Some, with a devotion to
their Fatherland, broke into song with "The Watch on the Rhine,"
while the officers, linking arms, stood awaiting the final plunge--if
plunge it might be called.
"Jump, you silly blighters!" shouted an excitable bluejacket from the
"Arethusa," and the invitation was taken up by others, while the
crews of the light-cruisers and the nearmost destroyers hastened to
lower boats to assist in the errand of mercy.
"She's going!" ejaculated Gilroy, as the huge hull turned completely
over on its side, and with hardly any agitation of the sea slid
gently under the waves, throwing those of her crew who had not
already jumped into the water.
The "Livingstone" by this time had come to a standstill at about a
cable's length from the spot where the "Bluecher" had disappeared.
The only boat she had fit for service was lowered, and into it
clambered Terence and four seamen.
Before they had gone fifty yards Aubyn noticed that the boat was
leaking badly. Already the water was above the floor boards. One of
the men was obliged to use the baler vigorously, while the others
kept to their oars, the sub. holding the boat on her course by means
of considerable lee helm.
"Lay on your oars, men," exclaimed Terence, and leaning over the side
he was just in time to grasp the hair of a scorched and blackened
German bluejacket as he was sinking for the last time. Two more men
were rescued, one stark naked, save for an inflated swimming collar;
the other wounded in half a dozen places by pieces of flying metal.
So intent were the crews of the numerous boats upon their work of
saving life that they failed to notice a new peril. Only a warning
shout from the quarter-deck of the "Arethusa" recalled them to the
fact that they were not fighting civilized foes but enemies whose
methods of waging war were on a par with those of the old Red
Indians, the ferocious Boxers, or the fanatical tribes of Somaliland.
Overhead was a Zeppelin, accompanied by a couple of German
waterplanes. Although it must have been perfectly obvious to the
observers that the British tars were rescuing their beaten foes, the
aircraft began a rapid bombardment with bombs.
One missile, fortunately without exploding, dropped an oar's length
from the "Livingstone's" boat. Others, detonating with a sharp crack,
assisted in sending a score or so of the "Bluecher's" crew to their
death.
Filled with fury, that during the engagement had been foreign to
them, the British tars were compelled to relinquish their task of
saving life. Back to their respective ships they rowed, and a hail of
projectiles was launched against the treacherous Zeppelin and her
consorts.
This was more than the unwieldy gas-bag could stand. Circling and
ascending higher and higher she flew out of the danger zone and made
off back to Heligoland.
But the engagement was not yet over.
From the flagship of the admiral commanding the destroyer flotillas
came a signal:--
"Proceed to N.E. and engage enemy-destroyers and submarines."