TREATS OF TORPEDOES, TERRIBLE CATASTROPHE, UNEXPECTED MEETINGS, AND SUCH
LIKE.
To return to my personal experiences. It now became a matter of the
deepest importance that we should get out of the river before the
Russian army reached its banks and stopped the navigation. The weather,
however, was against us. It rained a great deal, and the nights were
very dark. The swollen current, it is true, was in our favour;
nevertheless, as we had already spent several weeks in ascending the
river, it was clear that we should have to race against time in
retracing our course.
One dark night about the end of May, as we were approaching the Lower
Danube, and speculating on the probability of our getting out in time, I
gave orders to run into a creek and cast anchor, intending to land and
procure a supply of fresh meat, of which we had run short.
"Better wait for daylight, sir," suggested my skipper. "It's not
unlikely, in these days of torpedoes, that the entrance to places may be
guarded by them."
The skipper was so far right. The entrance to unimportant creeks,
indeed, had not been guarded, but the Russians had already laid down
many torpedoes in the river to protect them from Turkish ironclads while
engaged in constructing their pontoon bridges. He had scarcely made the
remark, when I was half stunned by a shock under my feet, which seemed
to rend the yacht asunder. There followed a terrific report, and the
deck was instantly deluged with water. There could be no doubt what had
occurred. We had touched a torpedo, and the yacht was already sinking.
We rushed to our little boat in consternation, but before we could lower
it, our trim little vessel went down, stern foremost.
For a few moments there was a horrible rushing sound in my ears, and I
felt that I could hold my breath no longer when my head rose above the
surface. I struck out with a gasp of relief, which was, as it were,
echoed close to me. I looked round, as well as darkness and water would
allow, and observed an object floating near me. I pushed towards it,
and just as I caught hold, I heard a panting voice exclaim--
"'Eaven be praised!"
"Amen," said I; "is that you, Lancey?"
"It is, sir, an' I'm right glad to 'ear your voice. Cetch a tight 'old,
sir; it's big enough for two."
"What is it?" I asked.
"One of the 'en-coops," said Lancey.
"It's too small for two, I fear," said I, seizing hold of it.
"Hall right, sir; it'll 'old us both. I can swim."
Clinging to our frail support we were hurried by the rapid current we
knew not whither, for, although the moon was in the sky, it was so
covered with black clouds that we could not see whether we were being
swept towards the shore or into the middle of the stream. Besides this,
the wind was driving the rain and dashing the water into our eyes
continuously.
"Lancey," I gasped, "it is u-useless to let ourselves be--swe--swept
about at the will of chance currents. The river is very wi-wide. Let
us place ourselves side by side--and--strike--out--in--the--same--
d'rection. Uniformity of action--necessary--in desp'r't situations!"
Lancey at once acted on my suggestion, gasping that, "Haction of--of--
hany kind would tend to--to--k-p limbs warm."
We proceeded in silence for some minutes, when I observed the masts and
rigging of several vessels drawn faintly against the dark sky. They
were considerably to our right, and the current was evidently bearing us
away from them.
"A strong effort now, Lancey," said I, "and we may reach them."
I could feel, as well as see, that my faithful servant exerted himself
to the utmost.
As we approached the vessels, their huge black hulls loomed up out of
the dark surroundings, and were pictured against the sky, which, dark
though it was, had not the intense blackness of the vessels themselves.
We passed the nearest one within twenty yards.
"Let go, sir, and swim for it," cried Lancey.
"No, no!" I cried earnestly, "never let go your--"
I stopped, for Lancey had already let go, and made a dash for the
nearest ship. I heard him hail, and saw the flashing of lights for a
moment, then all was dark again and silent, as I was hurried onward.
The feeling of certainty that he could not have been saved with so rapid
a current sweeping him past, filled my mind with intense anxiety. Just
then I felt a shock. The hen-coop had been driven against another
vessel, which I had not observed.
I tried to grasp her, but failed. I uttered a loud cry, not with the
expectation that the crew of the vessel could save me,--that I knew to
be impossible,--but in the hope that they might be ready for Lancey
should he be carried close to them.
Then I was dragged onward by the powerful current, and tossed like a
cork on the river. I had observed in passing that the vessel was a
Turkish ironclad, and came to the conclusion that I had passed the
Turkish flotilla, which I knew was at that time lying near the fortress
of Matchin.
At the very time that I was being thus driven about by the wild waters,
and praying to God for the deliverance of my comrades and myself--
sometimes audibly, more frequently in spirit--another and a very
different scene was taking place, not far off, on the Roumanian shore.
The wind had fallen; the clouds that covered the moon had just thinned
enough to render darkness visible, and nothing was to be heard save the
continual croaking of the frogs, which are very large and numerous in
the marshes of the Danube, when four boats pushed off and proceeded
quickly, yet quietly, up the river.
No men were visible in these boats, no sails, no oars. They were "steam
launches," and were destined for a night attack on the flotilla which I
had just passed. Their crews were covered nearly from stem to stern by
iron bullet-proof awnings, which, as well as the boats, were painted
black. The engines were so constructed as to make the least possible
amount of noise, and when speed was reduced no sound was heard save a
dull throbbing that was almost drowned by the croaking frogs.
It was a little after midnight when these boats set out--two being meant
to attack, and two to remain in support. They had seven miles of river
to traverse before reaching the enemy, and it was while they were in the
midst of their voyage that I chanced to meet them, clinging to my
hen-coop. They came so straight at me that I was on the point of being
run down by the leading boat, when I gave a sharp "halloo!"
It was replied to by one that indicated surprise, and was decidedly
English in tone. Next moment the launch scraped violently against my
raft, and I saw a hand extended. Grasping it, I was drawn quickly into
the boat. Another hand instantly covered my mouth, and I was thrust
down into the bottom of the boat with considerable violence. Being
allowed to raise myself a little, the chink of a dark lantern was
opened, and the light streamed full upon me. It at the same time
lighted up several faces, the inquiring eyes of which gazed at me
intently. A stern voice demanded who I was.
Just then a gleam of light fell on a countenance which gazed at me with
open-mouthed and open-eyed amazement. It was that of Nicholas
Naranovitsch! I was just going to answer, when the sight of him struck
me dumb.
Nicholas touched the officer who had questioned me on the shoulder, and
whispered in his ear. He at once closed the lantern, leaving us all in
total darkness, while Nicholas caught me by the arm, and, making me sit
down on a box of some kind beside him, gave vent to his surprise in
hurried, broken whispers.
A short time sufficed to explain how it was that I came to be there.
Then he began to tell me about his being sent on a secret expedition,
and his having obtained leave to join in this midnight attack by
torpedo-boats, when a low stern order to be silent compelled him to
stop.
From that moment he and I remained perfectly quiet and observant.
After an hour's steaming the Russian launches came to the immediate
neighbourhood of the enemy's flotilla, and the engines were slowed.
Each boat was armed with two torpedoes attached to the end of two long
spars, which moved on pivots, and could also be dipped so that the
torpedoes should be sunk ten feet under water at any moment. These
torpedoes--each being about twenty inches long, by about fifteen in
diameter--had a double action. They could be fired by "contact," or, in
the event of that failing, by electricity. The latter mode could be
accomplished by an electric battery in a little box in the stern of each
boat, with which a long cable, a quarter of an inch thick, of fine wires
twisted together, connected each torpedo.
All this, of course, I learned afterwards. At the time, sitting in
almost total darkness, I knew nothing more than that we were bound on a
torpedo expedition. I could scarcely persuade myself that it was not a
dream, but my numbed frame and drenched garments were too real to be
doubted, and then I fancied it must be a special judgment to punish me
for the part I had taken in the improvement of these terrible implements
of war.
Despite the slowing of the engines, and the dead silence that prevailed,
the boats were observed by the Turkish sentinels as we approached.
"Who goes there?" was demanded in the Turkish language.
The launch in which I sat was the first to approach, but the officer in
command took no notice and made no reply.
Again the sentinel challenged--perhaps doubting whether in the darkness
his eyes had not deceived him as well as his ears. Still no answer was
given.
The darkness was not now quite so intense, and it was evident that
longer concealment was impossible; when, therefore, the challenge was
given a third time, our Russian commander replied, and I thought I
observed a grim smile on his countenance as he said in Turkish,
"Friends!"
The sentinel, however, seeing that we continued to advance, expressed
his disbelief in our friendship by firing at us.
Then there began an uproar the like of which I had never before
conceived. Being very near the Turkish monitor at the time, we
distinctly heard the clattering of feet, the shout and rush of sailors,
and the hurried commands to prepare for action. There was no lack of
promptitude or energy on board the vessel. There was some lack of care
or discipline, however, for I heard the order for the bow gun to be
fired given three times, and heard the click of the answering hammer
three times in little more than as many seconds, betokening a determined
miss-fire. But if the bow gun _had_ gone off, and sent one of us to the
bottom, there would still have been three boats left to seal the
vessel's fate.
At the fourth order a globe of flame leaped from the iron side of the
monitor and a heavy shot went harmlessly over our heads. Shouts and
lights in the other vessels showed that the entire flotilla was aroused.
I observed that the launch next to ours drew off and we advanced alone,
while the other two remained well behind, ready to support. A sharp
fusillade had now been opened on us, and we heard the bullets pattering
on our iron screen like unearthly hail, but in spite of this the launch
darted like a wasp under the monitor's bow. The torpedoes were arranged
so as to be detached from their spars at any moment and affixed by long
light chains to any part of an attacked ship. Round a rope hanging from
the bow of the vessel one of these chains was flung, and the torpedo was
dropped from the end of the spar, while the launch shot away, paying out
the electric cable as she went. But this latter was not required. The
torpedo swung round by the current and hit the ship with sufficient
violence. It exploded, and the column of water that instantly burst
from under the monitor half filled and nearly swamped us as we sped
away. The noise was so great that it nearly drowned for an instant the
shouts, cries, and firing of the Turks. The whole flotilla now began in
alarm to fire at random on their unseen foes, and sometimes into each
other.
Meanwhile the launches, like vicious mosquitoes, kept dodging about,
struck often, though harmlessly, by small shot, but missed by the large
guns.
Our commander now perceived that the monitor he had hit was sinking,
though slowly, at the bows. He shouted, therefore, to the second launch
to go at her. She did so at once; slipped in, under the fire and smoke
that belched from her side, and fixed another torpedo to her stern in
the same manner as the former. The officer in charge perceived,
however, that the current would not drive it against the ship. He
therefore shot away for a hundred yards,--the extent of his electric
cable,--and then fired the charge. A terrible explosion took place.
Parts of the ship were blown into the air, and a huge plank came down on
the Russian launch, like an avenging thunderbolt, pierced the iron
screen, which had so effectually resisted the bullets, and passed
between two sailors without injuring either. It did no further damage,
however, and when the crew turned to look at their enemy, they saw the
great ironclad in the act of sinking. In a few minutes nothing of her
was left above water except her masts. The crew were drowned, with the
exception of a few who escaped by swimming.
By this time it was daybreak, and our danger, within near range of the
other monitors, of course became very great. Just then an incident
occurred which might have proved fatal to us. Our screw fouled, and the
boat became unmanageable. Observing this, a Turkish launch from one of
the monitors bore down upon us. One of our sailors, who chanced to be a
good diver, jumped over the side and cleared the screw. Meanwhile the
men opened so heavy fire on the enemy's launch that she veered off, and
a few minutes later we were steaming down the Danube towards the place
from which the boats had set forth on their deadly mission.
"That was gloriously done, wasn't it?" said Nicholas to me with
enthusiasm, after the first blaze of excitement began to abate;--"one of
the enemy's biggest ironclads sent to the bottom, with all her crew, at
the trifling expense of two or three hundred pounds' weight of powder,
and not a man injured on our side!"