which had been lying quietly among and under the protection of their
enemies, withdrew southward, and, making a slight circuit, joined the
repeller.
Each of the disabled ironclads was now in tow of a sister vessel, or of
tugs, except the Llangaron. This great ship had been disabled so early
in the contest, and her broadside had presented such a vast surface to
the north-west wind, that she had drifted much farther to the south
than any other vessel. Consequently, before the arrival of the tugs
which had been sent for to tow her into harbour, the Llangaron was well
on her way across the channel. A foggy night came on, and the next
morning she was ashore on the coast of France, with a mile of water
between her and dry land. Fast-rooted in a great sand-bank, she lay
week after week, with the storms that came in from the Atlantic, and
the storms that came in from the German Ocean, beating upon her tall
side of solid iron, with no more effect than if it had been a precipice
of rock. Against waves and winds she formed a massive breakwater, with
a wide stretch of smooth sea between her and the land. There she lay,
proof against all the artillery of Europe, and all the artillery of the
sea and the storm, until a fleet of small vessels had taken from her
her ponderous armament, her coal and stores, and she had been lightened
enough to float upon a high tide, and to follow three tugs to
Portsmouth.
When night came on, Repeller No. 11 and the crabs dropped down with the
tide, and lay to some miles west of the scene of battle. The fog shut
them in fairly well, but, fearful that torpedoes might be sent out
against them, they showed no lights. There was little danger of
collision with passing merchantmen, for the English Channel, at
present, was deserted by this class of vessels.
The next morning the repeller, preceded by two crabs, bearing between
them a submerged net similar to that used at the Canadian port,
appeared off the eastern end of the Isle of Wight. The anchors of the
net were dropped, and behind it the repeller took her place, and
shortly afterward she sent a flag-of-truce boat to Portsmouth harbour.
This boat carried a note from the American War Syndicate to the British
Government.
In this note it was stated that it was now the intention of the
Syndicate to utterly destroy, by means of the instantaneous motor, a
fortified post upon the British coast. As this would be done solely
for the purpose of demonstrating the irresistible destructive power of
the motor-bombs, it was immaterial to the Syndicate what fortified post
should be destroyed, provided it should answer the requirements of the
proposed demonstration. Consequently the British Government was
offered the opportunity of naming the fortified place which should be
destroyed. If said Government should decline to do this, or delay the
selection for twenty-four hours, the Syndicate would itself decide upon
the place to be operated upon.
Every one in every branch of the British Government, and, in fact,
nearly every thinking person in the British islands, had been racking
his brains, or her brains, that night, over the astounding situation;
and the note of the Syndicate only added to the perturbation of the
Government. There was a strong feeling in official circles that the
insolent little enemy must be crushed, if the whole British navy should
have to rush upon it, and all sink together in a common grave.
But there were cooler and more prudent brains at the head of affairs;
and these had already decided that the contest between the old engines
of war and the new ones was entirely one-sided. The instincts of good
government dictated to them that they should be extremely wary and
circumspect during the further continuance of this unexampled war.
Therefore, when the note of the Syndicate was considered, it was agreed
that the time had come when good statesmanship and wise diplomacy would
be more valuable to the nation than torpedoes, armoured ships, or heavy
guns.
There was not the slightest doubt that the country would disagree with
the Government, but on the latter lay the responsibility of the
country's safety. There was nothing, in the opinion of the ablest
naval officers, to prevent the Syndicate's fleet from coming up the
Thames. Instantaneous motor-bombs could sweep away all forts and
citadels, and explode and destroy all torpedo defences, and London
might lie under the guns of the repeller.
In consequence of this view of the state of affairs, an answer was sent
to the Syndicate's note, asking that further time be given for the
consideration of the situation, and suggesting that an exhibition of
the power of the motor-bomb was not necessary, as sufficient proof of
this had been given in the destruction of the Canadian forts, the
annihilation of the Craglevin, and the extraordinary results of the
discharge of said bombs on the preceding day.
To this a reply was sent from the office of the Syndicate in New York,
by means of a cable boat from the French coast, that on no account
could their purpose be altered or their propositions modified.
Although the British Government might be convinced of the power of the
Syndicate's motor-bombs, it was not the case with the British people,
for it was yet popularly disbelieved that motor-bombs existed. This
disbelief the Syndicate was determined to overcome, not only for the
furtherance of its own purposes, but to prevent the downfall of the
present British Ministry, and a probable radical change in the
Government. That such a political revolution, as undesirable to the
Syndicate as to cool-headed and sensible Englishmen, was imminent,
there could be no doubt. The growing feeling of disaffection, almost
amounting to disloyalty, not only in the opposition party, but among
those who had hitherto been firm adherents of the Government, was
mainly based upon the idea that the present British rulers had allowed
themselves to be frightened by mines and torpedoes, artfully placed and
exploded. Therefore the Syndicate intended to set right the public
mind upon this subject. The note concluded by earnestly urging the
designation, without loss of time, of a place of operations.
This answer was received in London in the evening, and all night it was
the subject of earnest and anxious deliberation in the Government
offices. It was at last decided, amid great opposition, that the
Syndicate's alternative must be accepted, for it would be the height of
folly to allow the repeller to bombard any port she should choose.
When this conclusion had been reached, the work of selecting a place
for the proposed demonstration of the American Syndicate occupied but
little time. The task was not difficult. Nowhere in Great Britain was
there a fortified spot of so little importance as Caerdaff, on the west
coast of Wales.
Caerdaff consisted of a large fort on a promontory, and an immense
castellated structure on the other side of a small bay, with a little
fishing village at the head of said bay. The castellated structure was
rather old, the fortress somewhat less so; and both had long been
considered useless, as there was no probability that an enemy would
land at this point on the coast.
Caerdaff was therefore selected as the spot to be operated upon. No
one could for a moment imagine that the Syndicate had mined this place;
and if it should be destroyed by motor-bombs, it would prove to the
country that the Government had not been frightened by the tricks of a
crafty enemy.
An hour after the receipt of the note in which it was stated that
Caerdaff had been selected, the Syndicate's fleet started for that
place. The crabs were elevated to cruising height, the repeller taken
in tow, and by the afternoon of the next day the fleet was lying off
Caerdaff. A note was sent on shore to the officer in command, stating
that the bombardment would begin at ten o'clock in the morning of the
next day but one, and requesting that information of the hour appointed
be instantly transmitted to London. When this had been done, the fleet
steamed six or seven miles off shore, where it lay to or cruised about
for two nights and a day.
As soon as the Government had selected Caerdaff for bombardment,
immediate measures were taken to remove the small garrisons and the
inhabitants of the fishing village from possible danger. When the
Syndicate's note was received by the commandant of the fort, he was
already in receipt of orders from the War Office to evacuate the
fortifications, and to superintend the removal of the fishermen and
their families to a point of safety farther up the coast.
Caerdaff was a place difficult of access by land, the nearest railroad
stations being fifteen or twenty miles away; but on the day after the
arrival of the Syndicate's fleet in the offing, thousands of people
made their way to this part of the country, anxious to see--if
perchance they might find an opportunity to safely see--what might
happen at ten o'clock the next morning. Officers of the army and navy,
Government officials, press correspondents, in great numbers, and
curious and anxious observers of all classes, hastened to the Welsh
coast.
The little towns where the visitors left the trains were crowded to
overflowing, and every possible conveyance, by which the mountains
lying back of Caerdaff could be reached, was eagerly secured, many
persons, however, being obliged to depend upon their own legs. Soon
after sunrise of the appointed day the forts, the village, and the
surrounding lower country were entirely deserted, and every point of
vantage on the mountains lying some miles back from the coast was
occupied by excited spectators, nearly every one armed with a
field-glass.
A few of the guns from the fortifications were transported to an
overlooking height, in order that they might be brought into action in
case the repeller, instead of bombarding, should send men in boats to
take possession of the evacuated fortifications, or should attempt any
mining operations. The gunners for this battery were stationed at a
safe place to the rear, whence they could readily reach their guns if
necessary.
The next day was one of supreme importance to the Syndicate. On this
day it must make plain to the world, not only what the motor-bomb could
do, but that the motor-bomb did what was done. Before leaving the
English Channel the director of Repeller No. 11 had received
telegraphic advices from both Europe and America, indicating the
general drift of public opinion in regard to the recent sea-fight; and,
besides these, many English and continental papers had been brought to
him from the French coast.
From all these the director perceived that the cause of the Syndicate
had in a certain way suffered from the manner in which the battle in
the channel had been conducted. Every newspaper urged that if the
repeller carried guns capable of throwing the bombs which the Syndicate
professed to use, there was no reason why every ship in the British
fleet should not have been destroyed. But as the repeller had not
fired a single shot at the fleet, and as the battle had been fought
entirely by the crabs, there was every reason to believe that if there
were such things as motor-guns, their range was very short, not as
great as that of the ordinary dynamite cannon. The great risk run by
one of the crabs in order to disable a dynamite gun-boat seemed an
additional proof of this.
It was urged that the explosions in the water might have been produced
by torpedoes; that the torpedo-boat which had been destroyed was so
near the repeller that an ordinary shell was sufficient to accomplish
the damage that had been done.
To gainsay these assumptions was imperative on the Syndicate's forces.
To firmly establish the prestige of the instantaneous motor was the
object of the war. Crabs were of but temporary service. Any nation
could build vessels like them, and there were many means of destroying
them. The spring armour was a complete defence against ordinary
artillery, but it was not a defence against submarine torpedoes. The
claims of the Syndicate could be firmly based on nothing but the powers
of absolute annihilation possessed by the instantaneous motor-bomb.
About nine o'clock on the appointed morning, Repeller No. 11, much to
the surprise of the spectators on the high grounds with field-glasses
and telescopes, steamed away from Caerdaff. What this meant nobody
knew, but the naval military observers immediately suspected that the
Syndicate's vessel had concentrated attention upon Caerdaff in order to
go over to Ireland to do some sort of mischief there. It was presumed
that the crabs accompanied her, but as they were now at their fighting
depth it was impossible to see them at so great a distance.
But it was soon perceived that Repeller No. 11 had no intention of
running away, nor of going over to Ireland. From slowly cruising about
four or five miles off shore, she had steamed westward until she had
reached a point which, according to the calculations of her scientific
corps, was nine marine miles from Caerdaff. There she lay to against a
strong breeze from the east.
It was not yet ten o'clock when the officer in charge of the starboard
gun remarked to the director that he suppose that it would not be
necessary to give the smoke signals, as had been done in the channel,
as now all the crabs were lying near them. The director reflected a
moment, and then ordered that the signals should be given at every
discharge of the gun, and that the columns of black smoke should be
shot up to their greatest height.
At precisely ten o'clock, up rose from Repeller No. 11 two tall jets
of black smoke. Up rose from the promontory of Caerdaff, a heavy gray
cloud, like an immense balloon, and then the people on the hill-tops
and highlands felt a sharp shock of the ground and rocks beneath them,
and heard the sound of a terrible but momentary grinding crush.
As the cloud began to settle, it was borne out to sea by the wind, and
then it was revealed that the fortifications of Caerdaff had
disappeared.
In ten minutes there was another smoke signal, and a great cloud over
the castellated structure on the other side of the bay. The cloud
passed away, leaving a vacant space on the other side of the bay.
The second shock sent a panic through the crowd of spectators. The
next earthquake bomb might strike among them. Down the eastern slopes
ran hundreds of them, leaving only a few of the bravest civilians, the
reporters of the press, and the naval and military men.
The next motor-bomb descended into the fishing village, the comminuted
particles of which, being mostly of light material, floated far out to
sea.
The detachment of artillerists who had been deputed to man the guns on
the heights which commanded the bay had been ordered to fall back to
the mountains as soon as it had been seen that it was not the intention
of the repeller to send boats on shore. The most courageous of the
spectators trembled a little when the fourth bomb was discharged, for
it came farther inland, and struck the height on which the battery had
been placed, removing all vestiges of the guns, caissons, and the ledge
of rock on which they had stood.
The motor-bombs which the repeller was now discharging were of the
largest size and greatest power, and a dozen more of them were
discharged at intervals of a few minutes. The promontory on which the
fortifications had stood was annihilated, and the waters of the bay
swept over its foundations. Soon afterward the head of the bay seemed
madly rushing out to sea, but quickly surged back to fill the chasm
which yawned at the spot where the village had been.
The dense clouds were now upheaved at such short intervals that the
scene of devastation was completely shut out from the observers on the
hills; but every few minutes they felt a sickening shock, and heard a
momentary and horrible crash and hiss which seemed to fill all the air.
The instantaneous motor-bombs were tearing up the sea-board, and
grinding it to atoms.
It was not yet noon when the bombardment ceased. No more puffs of
black smoke came up from the distant repeller, and the vast spreading
mass of clouds moved seaward, dropping down upon St. George's Channel
in a rain of stone dust. Then the repeller steamed shoreward, and when
she was within three or four miles of the coast she ran up a large
white flag in token that her task was ended.
This sign that the bombardment had ceased was accepted in good faith;
and as some of the military and naval men had carefully noted that each
puff from the repeller was accompanied by a shock, it was considered
certain that all the bombs which had been discharged had acted, and
that, consequently, no further danger was to be apprehended from them.
In spite of this announcement many of the spectators would not leave
their position on the hills, but a hundred or more of curious and
courageous men ventured down into the plain.
That part of the sea-coast where Caerdaff had been was a new country,
about which men wandered slowly and cautiously with sudden
exclamations, of amazement and awe. There were no longer promontories
jutting out into the sea; there were no hillocks and rocky terraces
rising inland. In a vast plain, shaven and shorn down to a common
level of scarred and pallid rock, there lay an immense chasm two miles
and a half long, half a mile wide, and so deep that shuddering men
could stand and look down upon the rent and riven rocks upon which had
rested that portion of the Welsh coast which had now blown out to sea.
An officer of the Royal Engineers stood on the seaward edge of this
yawning abyss; then he walked over to the almost circular body of water
which occupied the place where the fishing village had been, and into
which the waters of the bay had flowed. When this officer returned to
London he wrote a report to the effect that a ship canal, less than an
eighth of a mile long, leading from the newly formed lake at the head
of the bay, would make of this chasm, when filled by the sea, the
finest and most thoroughly protected inland basin for ships of all
sizes on the British coast. But before this report received due
official consideration the idea had been suggested and elaborated in a
dozen newspapers.
Accounts and reports of all kinds describing the destruction of
Caerdaff, and of the place in which it had stood, filled the newspapers
of the world. Photographs and pictures of Caerdaff as it had been and
as it then was were produced with marvellous rapidity, and the
earthquake bomb of the American War Syndicate was the subject of
excited conversation in every civilized country.
The British Ministry was now the calmest body of men in Europe. The
great opposition storm had died away, the great war storm had ceased,
and the wisest British statesmen saw the unmistakable path of national
policy lying plain and open before them. There was no longer time for
arguments and struggles with opponents or enemies, internal or
external. There was even no longer time for the discussion of
measures. It was the time for the adoption of a measure which
indicated itself, and which did not need discussion.
On the afternoon of the day of the bombardment of Caerdaff, Repeller
No. 11, accompanied by her crabs, steamed for the English Channel. Two
days afterward there lay off the coast at Brighton, with a white flag
floating high above her, the old Tallapoosa, now naval mistress of the
world.
Near by lay a cable boat, and constant communication by way of France
was kept up between the officers of the American Syndicate and the
repeller. In a very short time communications were opened between the
repeller and London.
When this last step became known to the public of America, almost as
much excited by the recent events as the public of England, a great
disturbance arose in certain political circles. It was argued that the
Syndicate had no right to negotiate in any way with the Government of
England; that it had been empowered to carry on a war; and that, if its
duties in this regard had been satisfactorily executed, it must now
retire, and allow the United States Government to attend to its foreign
relations.
But the Syndicate was firm. It had contracted to bring the war to a
satisfactory conclusion. When it considered that this had been done,
it would retire and allow the American Government, with whom the
contract had been made, to decide whether or not it had been properly
performed.
The unmistakable path of national policy which had shown itself to the
wisest British statesmen appeared broader and plainer when the
overtures of the American War Syndicate had been received by the
British Government. The Ministry now perceived that the Syndicate had
not waged war; it had been simply exhibiting the uselessness of war as
at present waged. Who now could deny that it would be folly to oppose
the resources of ordinary warfare to those of what might be called
prohibitive warfare.
Another idea arose in the minds of the wisest British statesmen. If
prohibitive warfare were a good thing for America, it would be an
equally good thing for England. More than that, it would be a better
thing if only these two countries possessed the power of waging
prohibitive warfare.
In three days a convention of peace was concluded between Great Britain
and the American Syndicate acting for the United States, its provisions
being made subject to such future treaties and alliances as the
governments of the two nations might make with each other. In six days
after the affair at Caerdaff, a committee of the American War Syndicate
was in London, making arrangements, under the favourable auspices of
the British Government, for the formation of an Anglo-American
Syndicate of War.
The Atlantic Ocean now sprang into new life. It seemed impossible to
imagine whence had come the multitude of vessels which now steamed and
sailed upon its surface. Among these, going westward, were six crabs,
and the spring-armoured vessel, once the Tallapoosa, going home to a
triumphant reception, such as had never before been accorded to any
vessel, whether of war or peace.
The blockade of the Canadian port, which had been effectively
maintained without incident, was now raised, and the Syndicate's
vessels proceeded to an American port.
The British ironclad, Adamant, at the conclusion of peace was still in
tow of Crab C, and off the coast of Florida. A vessel was sent down
the coast by the Syndicate to notify Crab C of what had occurred, and
to order it to tow the Adamant to the Bermudas, and there deliver her
to the British authorities. The vessel sent by the Syndicate, which
was a fast coast-steamer, had scarcely hove in sight of the objects of
her search when she was saluted by a ten-inch shell from the Adamant,
followed almost immediately by two others. The commander of the
Adamant had no idea that the war was at an end, and had never failed,
during his involuntary cruise, to fire at anything which bore the
American flag, or looked like an American craft.
Fortunately the coast steamer was not struck, and at the top of her
speed retired to a greater distance, whence the Syndicate officer on
board communicated with the crab by smoke signals.
During the time in which Crab C had had charge of the Adamant no
communication had taken place between the two vessels. Whenever an
air-pipe had been elevated for the purpose of using therein a
speaking-tube, a volley from a machine-gun on the Adamant was poured
upon it, and after several pipes had been shot away the director of the
crab ceased his efforts to confer with those on the ironclad. It had
been necessary to place the outlets of the ventilating apparatus of the
crab under the forward ends of some of the upper roof-plates.
When Crab C had received her orders, she put about the prow of the
great warship, and proceeded to tow her north-eastward, the commander
of the Adamant taking a parting crack with his heaviest stern-gun at
the vessel which had brought the order for his release.