THE TURKISH FLEET DURING THE WAR.
To return to the doings of the Turkish fleet in the Black Sea during the
war, Sulina was a point from the beginning always aimed at by the
Russians. In fact, according to my humble ideas, Russia went to war to
get possession of Bessarabia, the key of the Danube, and Batoum, the key
to Asia Minor, and in a great measure to our Indian possessions. I think
the sentimental story of massacres in Bulgaria was merely a blind
whereby to catch the sympathetic support of Europe, and more especially
the English philanthropists. I think this, because when the most awful
cruelties were committed by the Bulgarians on the Turks _after_ the war,
we heard no outcry about massacres. However, I must not introduce
politics into Sketches from a sailor's life; such would be out of place.
Constant attacks were made by land and by sea on Sulina, which was held
and defended by Turkish ships and their crews, who manned the small
batteries they had planted at the mouth of the river. To the Russians,
to destroy the Turkish squadron lying off that port was of great
importance, as Sulina is entirely surrounded by water and great
impassable marshes, which extend far inland, through which marshes the
Danube runs, and thus can always be defended by ships.
The Turkish squadron generally consisted of five or six ironclads, and
as the Russians had not ships wherewith to attack these ironclads,
torpedo attacks (of which so much was and is expected) was their only
chance.
My idea of defending these vessels when at anchor was by a cordon of
guard-boats, with ropes made fast between them, so as to catch any
attacking torpedo boat, either by fouling her screw as she advanced, or
by stopping entirely her progress. Moreover, a torpedo boat thus stopped
would, by catching the rope, draw the guard-boat on either side of her,
or right on top of her. I must admit that while torpedoes at that time
were supposed to be in their infancy, the defence prepared against their
attack was also very much in its infancy, so these preparations were of
the most primitive description.
The squadron, as I said, consisted of five vessels, which had been in
the habit of standing out to sea every night, to avoid torpedo attacks.
On the occasion I am writing about, they had returned to the anchorage
on account of bad weather. A Russian steamer with five torpedo boats in
tow started (as we afterwards learnt) from Odessa to hunt for the
Turkish squadron, which, it was known to them through their spies, was
in the habit of cruising off Serpent's Island, about eight miles from
Odessa. The Muscovites were unable to find their enemy, and I don't
wonder at it, for they were not in their usual cruising ground; even had
they been there, to find them would have been difficult, as the Turkish
ships always cruised in open order, burnt smokeless coal, and showed no
lights. On being disappointed in finding what she wanted at sea, the
Russian vessel steamed towards the anchorage off Sulina. As the weather
was bad, her commander decided not to attack, and I fancy had to cast
off his torpedo boats.
One of these boats, if not more (I have never been able to ascertain
precisely what happened to the five torpedo boats that left Odessa),
made a dash at the Turkish squadron; the weather not permitting him to
use his Whitehead, he decided to try what his pole torpedo would do. As
he approached the head-most vessel, he found (as he explained afterwards
to me) that _something_ stopped his way, and he saw at the same time
several black objects approaching him. Nothing daunted, he struggled to
get close to the bows of the ironclad; when he got as near as he could
manage he fired his torpedo, without, however, doing any harm to his
enemy. Scarcely had he done this when he found himself in the water and
his boat gone from under him: the real facts being that the black
objects he had seen were the guard-boats, which were closing on him, the
ropes that connected them together having fouled his screw, and caused
the disaster; his boat was capsized and went to the bottom. Four or five
of her crew were drowned, as he would have been, had he not been fished
out of the water by the Turkish guard-boats, and made prisoner.
The name of this daring naval officer was Putskin. His cool courage was
very amusing. When interrogated, while still in a half-drowned
condition, he exclaimed in excellent English, 'Why the devil didn't I
blow that ship up?' He was asked if he had any idea what stopped him,
and it was suggested to him that something must have fouled his screw.
He answered, 'I don't know what stopped me, but why the devil didn't I
blow the ship up?' I told him that I had a sort of notion he might be
hanged for using such a fearful weapon. He said, 'No brave man would
hang me; but why,' &c.
He seemed to have only one idea, and that was he was a fool for having
failed. He was too good a man to let go, so we kept him till nearly the
end of the war.
Wherever he may be now he is a fine fellow, whose bravery I for one
shan't forget in a hurry.
A short time after the above-named occurrence the Russians attempted an
attack upon Sulina by land and water, with what object I have never been
able to understand; as, if they had succeeded, they could not have held
it so long as our ships were anchored in the offing. Perhaps their
intention was, by driving us out of the river, to utilise its position
for torpedo attacks.
I have explained that Sulina was surrounded by sea and vast marshes.
Along the seashore there was a narrow causeway of sand, on which ten men
could march abreast. The only other approaches were by sea and by the
river, the latter, at about ten miles distance, being in the hands of
the Russians. As a defence we had placed on the beach, at about a
gun-shot's distance, several torpedoes, buried in the sand, and
connected by electric wires with the batteries of Sulina. A simultaneous
movement was made by three or four Russian gun-boats descending the
river, and two regiments of troops accompanied by artillery were sent
along the causeway. Suspecting something in regard to torpedoes, they
drove before them as a sort of advance guard about two hundred and fifty
horses without riders, it being the duty of the poor animals to take the
shock of the explosion should torpedoes be placed on the beach. And so
they did, for, on the horses passing the spot where the torpedoes were
placed, an explosion took place through which several horses were
killed. The rest turned right back, and the causeway being very narrow,
dashed amongst the advancing troops, causing the greatest confusion, so
much so that the whole party had to retreat and we saw them no more.
It is true that one of the small ironclads had about got the range of
the advancing enemy along the sea-beach, so making their position rather
precarious, but I believe that the real cause of the failure was the
action of the horses.
In the meantime, the light draft Russian gun-boats came down the river,
and began to fire shell and shot at a long range at the small town and
fortifications of Sulina. This was answered by the temporary batteries
alone, the ships being out of range. Desultory fighting went on for
about twenty-four hours, when the Russians, finding the hopelessness of
the enterprise, especially now that the troops had retired, gave it up
as a bad job and steamed up the Danube again. This was the only serious
attack made upon Sulina, which Russia could never have taken and held
till she had destroyed the Turkish fleet. After this I went to Batoum,
which place Dervish Pasha was gallantly holding against Russia. He was
sadly in want of naval help, as the Russians had advanced by the
sea-shore to within six miles of that much-coveted port. On arriving
there I took the command of eight Turkish ships of war, besides
transports that were constantly coming and going between Constantinople
and Batoum with provisions, ammunition, &c., for the army and navy.
Here, again, if the Russians could have disposed of the Turkish fleet
they would have easily taken Batoum. By commanding the sea, even with a
couple of vessels, they would have prevented supplies being sent. It
must be remembered there was no way of supporting the soldiers and
sailors except by sea. My first object was to drive the Russians, by the
fire of the ships, more inland. This was easy enough, as of course the
enemy had no guns with them to compare in range with those on board the
ironclads. Some time after my arrival, however, they brought down two
fifteen centimètre Krupp guns from Ardahan, guns that had a considerably
longer range than our twelve-ton Armstrongs. They gave us some trouble;
however, the position of the attacking camp was changed so as to be out
of range of our guns, a move in every way satisfactory to the Turkish
military commander. This action of our fleet gave great annoyance to the
enemy, and it was determined if possible to make our lying at Batoum a
dangerous if not impossible matter. This was to be done by the so-called
almighty torpedo. I received notice from our secret agent at Sebastopol
that a serious expedition was being organised, that the Turkish ships at
Batoum were to be destroyed or _frightened away_ at any cost.
_Frightened away, indeed!_ To the uninitiated a torpedo is a thing to
frighten any one away. We had heard of magnificent results of torpedo
trials in peace, how ships (I fancy only hulks) had been blown up,
columns of water half a mile high being sent into the air, &c. Nothing,
it was said, could save you. Whatever my ideas, however nervous I may
have felt, I knew that those I was commanding had no fear--they don't
know what it means, the more especially of a not understood possible
casualty, and though more enlightened as to torpedoes and their accepted
effects, I wasn't to show my people a bad example. When lying in bed in
the middle of the night, having read the warning letter before retiring,
I thought:--'Suppose one of these nasty things goes off and blows the
flagship up at this moment. How pleasant! What cowardly things these
are; no fair fight, up you go, unshriven. I have heard that a man who is
hanged is likely to go to heaven; I wonder if the same chance would be
given to him blown up by a torpedo?' These sort of feelings came over
me. However, said I, 'Let us see if we can prevent their being
realised;' so I went to work to try to do so. As a sportsman I
calculated that to fire at a dark object in the night, especially when
that object had a background of high hills such as we had at Batoum, was
most difficult, so the first order I gave was no lights, not even a
cigarette light; utter darkness under severe penalties. Next,
considering that Batoum is a very small port, with an entrance difficult
to find even in broad daylight, almost impossible in the night without
the lighthouse as a guide, I ordered that the lighthouse should not be
lighted. Then I arranged with the shore authorities that no lights
should be seen in the town; this was more difficult, as there were many
Russian friendlies in Batoum.
However, the application of somewhat severe discipline made Batoum like
a city of the dead after dark.
In addition to these precautions I put a barrier of booms ahead of the
ships lying in the port, placed guard-boats to watch it at the entrance
of the harbour, and having done all this, I bided my time. For some
nights, rather sleepless to me, though to my disgust I heard my officers
snoring all round me, nothing happened (though, as I heard afterwards, a
good deal had been going on outside the harbour), when, at about three
o'clock in the morning of the third or fourth night after I had received
the warning, I heard a row going on in the direction of the guard-boats
and an explosion near to one of the outlying ships. I had hardly time to
think, when something struck the chain of my flagship and seemed to spin
past, like a fish in the water. Then dead silence. I immediately sent
orders to the two fast cruisers, which were lying with steam up, to go
to sea and reconnoitre.
Suddenly I heard people on shore calling out (I forgot to mention that
ships in Batoum harbour are always lashed to the shore). I sent my
officer to reconnoitre, who found a gaping crowd standing round what
they thought was a large fish lashing his tail, but what in reality was
an unexploded torpedo with the screw still in motion. On things being
calm I went myself to see what had happened generally during the attack,
and found that a torpedo had struck the bows of one of the ironclads on
the belt, at the waterline at an angle, had exploded, and scarcely left
a mark; that a second torpedo had, after passing through the planks on
the defensive barrier I had placed, _diverged from its course_, and gone
quietly on shore as far as the left of the squadron; that a third, as I
said, had struck the chain of the flagship and not gone off, but had run
on to the beach. The parts of another torpedo were afterwards picked up,
it evidently having exploded somewhere down below. So we could account
for four torpedoes having been fired at us without effect; probably
there were more. Those that were on the beach were in a very perfect
state, and as soon as we had rendered them harmless, we made prisoners
of war of them. Now I have been since informed of what went on outside
Batoum. It seems that for three nights two fast Russian steamers,
carrying torpedo boats, had been looking for Batoum, and as one of my
informants said, 'We could not find it for love or money.' A couple of
hours before daylight they had steamed off, so as to be out of sight
before break of day. At last they had bribed a man to light a fire in
the hills behind the town, and so on the fourth night they got
somewhere near it, but they could not make out the ships on account of
the _dark land behind_ them. The time for steaming off having nearly
come, they determined to have a shot at us, so fired five torpedoes into
what they thought the centre of the Turkish fleet, with what result we
have seen. The person who told me was one of them, and said it was
sickening work looking for Batoum. It is true the nights were fearfully
dark, so that the shape of the land could not be made out. He said that
without the traitor's light they could not have found us. I am not
saying by this that one should always trust to darkness; there are many
other ways _now_ of taking the sting out of torpedo attacks. It is
needless to say that the steamers I sent out returned, having seen
nothing. While the fleet was at Batoum, two or three more torpedo
attacks were made on a smaller scale without effect; but I have bored my
readers enough about torpedoes--all I know is that I can sleep now when
in their vicinity. While in the Black Sea I several times went with two
or three ships that could be spared from other duties and reconnoitred
Sebastopol and Odessa, but being fully convinced of the helplessness of
few or even of _many_ ships against the heavy batteries of the present
day, I did no more than look about me, occasionally exchanging shots
with the enemy. As to burning defenceless towns and villages, I have
always been thoroughly adverse to such things, so I never undertook it.
Some people think war should be made as horrible as possible; in this I
do not agree. I could easily have burnt the Emperor's palace at Yalta,
but did not think it expedient to do so.
I have already spoken in general terms of the great services rendered by
the ironclads in moving the troops about, but I feel that, in justice to
the gallant crews of the squadron I had the honour to command during the
war, I ought not to bring this portion of my narrative to a close
without mentioning more particularly a piece of work of that nature
executed under my immediate direction.
The capture of Soukhoum-Kaleh had been followed up by the despatch of an
expedition of some 4,000 men of all arms to a place some thirty miles
down the coast, called Tchamchira. The military commander at Soukhoum
had some idea, I believe, that this force would be able to make its way
inland, and thus encourage risings amongst the tribes against the
detested Muscovite rule. The country, however, was too unfavourable for
the advance of invading troops, being swampy ground with thick bush
where it was not an impenetrable forest. The Russians also got wind of
the intended movement, and to make a long story short, had managed to
collect a large opposing force. The expedition was landed, but that is
all. Before much could be done to secure the position as a base--whilst
the men in fact were making entrenchments--the Russians, who under cover
of the forest that extended right down to the beach on either side had
been stealthily making their preparations, attacked them on all sides,
and but for the covering fire of the ironclads, fortunately still at
anchor there, would undoubtedly have driven them into the sea.
The result of this action enabled the force to establish itself in the
village, and hold possession of the small belt of cleared ground around
it, the extreme limit of which was still within the range of the guns of
the ironclads.
The position of this force, however, daily grew worse. The Russians had
captured the fords, by which their retreat to Soukhoum was cut off. They
were completely surrounded, and only owed their preservation to the
continual presence of an ironclad. Under these circumstances it was
thought advisable to withdraw the men, and Dervish Pasha entrusted me
with the task. To give an idea of the precarious position of this force,
I may mention that, as I approached the place in my flagship, we heard
the sound of smart cannonading, and I found the guard-ship engaged with
a battery of field-pieces. The Russians had recently received a large
accession of force, and several field-guns of large calibre; and so, not
content with troubling the camp daily with an enfilading fire, had
thought to try conclusions with the heavy guns afloat. On our appearance
the action ceased, the Russians withdrawing their battery into the safe
shelter of the forest. The Russian fire had been well directed, and had
the guns been heavier calibre, considerable damage would have been
inflicted. As it was, the upper works and rigging were cut about a great
deal, and two men killed and four wounded on board the ironclad. After a
conference with the general in command, I proceeded to Soukhoum to make
arrangements for transport. I had hardly arrived there when a message
from Tchamchira arrived, urgently demanding assistance, as the Russians
were advancing in great force. I hurried back with all the vessels I
could collect to Tchamchira, three ironclad corvettes and two wooden
paddle-wheel transports. Fortunately the Russian attack had not
commenced, and the arrival of my squadron probably led to its
postponement until too late. To remove 4,000 men, bag and baggage, with
several batteries of field-pieces and a large amount of ammunition, was
no easy task with the small amount of transport at my command. I made,
however, what I considered to be the best disposition possible under the
circumstances.
The corvettes and the paddle transports were moored in as close to the
shore as possible, my intention being to cram them with men and stores
first, leaving my flagship free to the last to manoeuvre off the Russian
camp and shell it, should the slightest opposition be offered to the
embarkation. The work commenced at daylight, and was actively carried on
throughout the day and following night, the last batch of men coming off
at dawn. The men were taken away from under the very teeth, as it were,
of the Russians. The ships in shore were well within rifle range, and
the boats passing to and fro were exposed the whole time to a fire from
hidden foes. The enemy had been evidently overawed by my preparations,
and doubtless thought it would be better for them to allow the invading
force to retire unopposed. To avoid the chance of grounding, in case I
should have to use the frigate fire to cover the embarkation, a
volunteer crew had proceeded off the Russian camp during the night, and
laid down a line of buoys, to show the limit of distance to which the
shore might be approached with safety. These buoys, glistening in the
sunlight, doubtless suggested to the Russians that something dreadful
was in store for them if they attempted to fire a gun, and so they
contented themselves with watching from the trees, amongst the branches
of which we saw a number of them perched like so many birds of prey. The
whole credit of the embarkation is due to the efficient manner in which
the naval officers under my command carried out the instructions given
them, and the great docility of the Turkish soldiers. Soon after sunset
the general and staff left the shore, and their example was followed by
every military officer of any rank; so that the whole work devolved upon
those I had placed in command of the beach and the boats.
The men marched down quietly by themselves and everything went on like
clockwork. I must confess that I passed a most anxious night, as I knew
not but what at any moment the enemy might make a rush into the
entrenchments the Turks were abandoning, in order to claim a victory. My
own ship was getting lumbered up, and I knew that before long it would
be impossible to work more than one or two of the guns in case of need.
That the Russians, however, could not know this, was my comfort; but I
must own that it was a great relief to me when the last detachment left
the shore. The poor fellows had been holding the outposts all night.
They came in at the double, and little time was lost over their
embarkation.
We steamed off at once to Soukhoum, and there disembarked the
expedition. Shortly after this I was called upon to prepare for a
veritable exodus. The evacuation of Soukhoum had been decided upon, but
His Imperial Majesty felt that the poor people, who had been expecting a
permanent deliverance from the Russian yoke, could not be abandoned to
those whose vengeance they had excited. Intimation was therefore given
that all those desirous of leaving the country should be carried to
Turkish territory, and provided with lands to form new settlements. The
whole population pretty well made up its mind to leave, and came
marching into Soukhoum with their flocks and herds, and household goods
and chattels. Suffice it to say that, with the vessels under my command,
I shipped off and landed at Batoum, Trebizonde, Sinope, and other ports
on the Turkish coast something like 50,000 people, counting men, women,
and children, within the space of a fortnight.