The Battle of the Galloper Sands
AT 9 a.m. on the same morning as the surprise attack by the German
"mosquito craft", two squadrons of the First Home Fleet left the
Nore. The flag of the Commander-in-chief, Admiral Sir Noel Armitage,
was flown on the _Royal Sovereign_, one of the latest type of
super-Dreadnoughts, a vessel mounting eight fifteen-inch guns on the
centre line and a secondary armament of sixteen six-inch guns.
It was Sir Noel's plan to bring the German High Seas fleet to action,
and should, as he devoutly hoped, the British be victorious, a
general attack upon Borkum and Heligoland would follow. It was on
account of his knowledge of the latter fortress that Sub-Lieutenant
John Hamerton was appointed to the _Royal Sovereign_ as a
supernumerary.
The heavy sea had somewhat subsided, although there was a long roll
that is rarely met with in the North Sea. The wind, too, had dropped
considerably as the sun rose, but the atmosphere was thick and hazy,
so that it was impossible to detect a vessel more than a mile off.
Although not so bad as a sea-fog, the climatic conditions made all
fleet evolutions a kind of exaggerated blindman's buff. The light
cruisers and destroyers, spread out fanwise for several miles ahead
of the battleships, could hardly live up to their reputation as the
"eyes of the fleet", since it was only by stumbling across one of
their antagonists that they could detect their presence.
Under these circumstances Sir Noel wisely decided to remain within
easy distance of the mouth of the Thames. By proceeding far from his
base it would be possible that the German battleships and
battle-cruisers might slip past unseen and do enormous damage to the
East Coast before he could offer them battle. Every hour meant the
shorter distance between him and the Mediterranean Fleet, that,
hastily summoned by wireless, was pelting along at twenty-two knots
from Gibraltar.
On the other hand, the Germans were also ignorant of the precise
position of their antagonists. They would vastly prefer to fight--now
that the initial operations had failed--within easy distance of the
mouths of the Elbe and Weser. If the worst came to the worst they
could then pass their battleships through the Kaiser Wilhelm Canal
into the comparative safety of the Baltic, and rely upon their
torpedo craft, submarines, and mines to keep the enemy at bay. But
for the present the Germans had no fears on that score. The fighting
spirit ran high, and the officers and men of the High Seas Fleet
confidently regarded that "The Day" was at hand when British
arrogance should receive a fatal blow.
Once again the German officials' plan went awry. Instead of the
British giving battle, as they expected, Sir Noel Armitage remained
close to the Nore. Not only was the Mediterranean Fleet about to join
forces with the Home Fleet, but a powerful United States squadron was
on its way from the rendezvous off Cape Hatteras to operate with the
British in the North Sea. Thus, before the comparatively weak force
under Sir Noel's command could be crushed, there was a possibility of
an overwhelming predominance of Anglo-American ships appearing in
German waters.
Then it was that the German Admiral, Von Walsdorf, decided to take a
bold and risky step. He detached three armoured cruisers and eleven
ocean-going destroyers--a force he could ill afford to dispense
with--and sent them via the north of the Orkneys to prey upon the
shipping and comparatively unprotected ports on the west coast of
Great Britain. Once these vessels avoided the British destroyers at
Scapa Flow there was little risk of capture, while the moral damage
they would be able to inflict would outvie the enormous actual damage
done in a very short space of time.
Then, finding the British Fleet, as he thought, inactive, Von
Walsdorf led his battleships and the remainder of his armoured
cruisers towards the mouth of the Thames.
It was just before noon on the following day that the _Royal
Sovereign_ received a wireless from the fast cruiser _Beresford_
announcing that she had sighted the German fleet in lat. 52° 1',
long. 2° 50' E., steering south-west. The cruiser had, in fact, been
chased and fired upon by two of the enemy's armoured cruisers, but
owing to her superior speed she eluded them without sustaining
damage.
By means of a code-text message the British admiral satisfied himself
that the _Beresford's_ wireless information was authentic. This was
necessary, since there was the possibility of the cruiser falling
into the enemy's hands and a deluding message being sent by her
captors, purporting to come from the British vessel.
Majestically the British fleet advanced, steaming in double columns,
line ahead, with the "small fry" on either flank. The ships, cleared
for action, looked the very embodiment of latent strength and
invulnerability, the only dash of colour about them being the white
ensigns fluttering proudly in the breeze, the St. George's crosses of
the various admirals, and the occasional hoist of bunting to
communicate an order to the various ships.
Hamerton's post was with Sir Noel Armitage in the conning tower, the
most vulnerable of the armoured parts of the ship; vulnerable because
it is a matter of impossibility for the officer working the ship to
be completely shut in. He must be able to see what is going on, and
the smallest slit in those massive armoured walls will admit a
white-hot sliver of steel from a bursting shell, while the conning
tower is the favourite mark for the hostile gunners.
Until the German fleet actually hove in sight Sir Noel preferred to
remain with his staff upon the bridge. It was a magnificent sight to
look astern and see the double line of steel monsters,
leaden-coloured themselves, ploughing through the leaden-coloured
water, each vessel following with mathematical precision in the wake
of the one next ahead until the rearmost ships were lost in the haze.
Hardly a word was spoken by the officers on the bridge of the
flagship. For his part Hamerton felt a peculiar indescribable
sensation that caused a dryness of the lips and tongue. It was not
fear; it was a kind of conjecture, trying to bring himself to realize
that he was going into action for the first time of his life, to
participate in the greatest naval battle that the world had yet seen.
Every now and again a messenger would come running up the bridge
ladder with a "wireless" report. The admiral and the captain, and
perhaps the flag-lieutenant would converse in low tones, generally
ending in an expressive shrug of the shoulders. Wireless messages
reporting the near approach of the German battleships were arriving
with monotonous frequency.
Suddenly a dull roar came from the invisible haze away to the
eastward. The protected cruisers and destroyers on the flank of the
approaching fleet were hotly engaged.
Giving a final glance at the vessels astern Sir Noel entered the
conning tower, followed by the captain, flag-lieutenant, Hamerton,
and a midshipman. Already the limited space was occupied by a yeoman
of signals and a quartermaster, while at the head of the steel ladder
inside the armoured pipe that communicated with the engine-room
telegraph and steering-wheel compartment beneath the armoured deck
appeared the head and shoulders of another yeoman of signals, whose
duty it was to transmit orders should the electrical gear be thrown
out of order.
Hamerton could see nothing. The admiral had taken up his stand at the
slit commanding a view ahead, the captain and the flag-lieutenant had
also appropriated a similar means of outlook. Hamerton and the
midshipman were perforce compelled to stand inactive, not knowing
what was going on, since no word was spoken by the officers on the
look-out.
Presently the Sub saw by the indicator, and also felt, that the
flagship was turning to port, an example that was followed by every
ship on both sides. The leading vessels of the German fleet had been
sighted, and the alteration in course was to enable the whole
broadsides of fifteen-inch guns to be brought to bear upon the enemy.
Then with a roar and a concussion that shook the ship the big guns
were discharged. Almost immediately came a deafening crash overhead.
The _Royal Sovereign_ had received her baptism of fire. A huge shell
from the German flagship had struck the roof of the superimposed
turret, glanced up, and utterly demolished the bridge. A waft of
acrid-smelling smoke drifted into the conning tower, making the
occupants cough and splutter like men subject to asthma.
After that the firing became general, each heavy gun being discharged
as fast as the automatic rammer could thrust home the giant
projectiles and the breechblocks could be closed. Between the
deafening roars of the fifteen-inch guns came the quicker, though
hardly less ear-splitting reports of the secondary armament--the
six-inch guns in various armoured casements on the main deck and
other parts of the ship.
All the while came the titanic sledge-hammer blows of the enemy's
shells, accompanied by the rending of steel, the crash of falling
masses of metal, and--far too frequently--the shrieks of men torn by
the fragments of bursting projectiles in spite of the best protection
that human ingenuity could provide.
Hamerton felt perfectly calm and collected now. The first blow had
banished the burning sensation in his throat, although, did he but
know it, his face was streaming with perspiration and streaked with
dust from the exploded cordite charges.
Both fleets were now on parallel courses, hammering at each other at
less than a mile apart. It is all very well to assert that the modern
naval battle will be decided at eight to ten thousand yards range:
the atmospheric conditions have to be taken into account, and this
battle off Galloper Sands was fought in a haze that is more frequent
than otherwise in the North Sea.
All order was now at an end. It was impossible for the ships to keep
their stations. Already some were sinking, and others forced to haul
out of line owing to serious damage; while there was hardly one of
the vessels, which a bare quarter of an hour before were as taut and
trim as a naval officer could desire, that looked little better than
a mass of floating scrap iron. Almost everything that could be shot
away had disappeared before the terrible force of the heavy shells,
till it seemed a wonder that a single ship could remain afloat.
Of all this Hamerton saw nothing. He was waiting. It was his duty to
wait till ordered to do something.
Presently the admiral wheeled abruptly.
"See what is wrong with the for'ard starboard six-inch," he said
abruptly. The voice tube and electric wires communicating with that
particular casemate were long out of action.
Hamerton saluted, and promptly descended the ladder to the deck
beneath the waterline. Half a dozen anxious pairs of eyes asked mute
questions. The Sub could only shake his head; he knew nothing.
Along a passage beneath the protected steel deck he made his way.
Below, the ship appeared in normal condition. Everything below the
waterline was practically intact, except that the concussion had
broken every electric lamp in the ship, broken glass littering every
square foot of space.
It was only by means of this passage and one more that direct means
of communication could be maintained from one end of the ship to the
other. The _Royal Sovereign_ was built with three longitudinal
bulkheads, extending from the keel plates to the upper deck, and
completely separating the port engine-room from the starboard. In
addition there were numerous transverse bulkheads, in which all
watertight doors had been closed at the beginning of the action.
Every man on board, save a very few, was encased in a steel box that
might prove his tomb.
At the head of the ladder communicating with the main deck Hamerton
crept under the flexible-steel splinter net. He was now well above
waterline, and in a part of the ship only protected by fairly thin
side armour. The space 'tween decks was filled with a pungent,
yellowish vapour, pierced here and there by shafts of light that
entered by means of huge jagged holes in the ship's side. The deck
resembled an ironfounder's store, pieces of bent, twisted, and
shattered steel lying in all directions and positions.
Something prompted the Sub to bend his back and run as hard as he
could to the door of the casemate. Afterwards he wondered why he did,
for had a shell entered and burst just as he was making his way along
that part of the deck, stooping down would not have made any
difference.
Seizing the gunmetal catch of the armoured door the Sub strove to
turn it. Then he became aware that the metal was hot. He placed his
hand against the steel door; there the heat was unbearable. Picking
up a piece of iron bar Hamerton inserted it in the handle, and by a
powerful lever-like motion succeeded in turning the catch. The door
flew open, and the Sub leapt backwards, nearly overcome by a blast of
hot and fetid air.
One glance was sufficient. A small shell had entered the casemate by
the gap between the chase of the gun and the shield, and had
exploded, killing every man of the crew of the six-inch. There was no
escape. Those who were not slain by the direct explosion were killed
by the fragments of metal ricochetting from the steel walls. The
place was nothing less than a charnel house.
Then it was that the Sub knew why the admiral had sent him to
investigate, for amongst the slain was Sir Noel's youngest son, a
midshipman fresh from his two years' course on a training cruiser.
Putting his hand over his eyes as he vainly tried to shut out the
mental vision of the annihilated gun's crew, Hamerton reeled away.
Just as he gained the foot of the ladder to the conning tower a
tremendous concussion, greater even than the impact of the huge
shells, shook the ship. It seemed as if the twenty-five thousand tons
of deadweight was lifted vertically for quite a foot.
The Sub exchanged glances with the lieutenant standing by the
submerged steering wheel.
"Torpedoed," exclaimed the officer laconically. Up the fifty feet of
vertical ladder Hamerton hastened. At the top he paused abruptly. The
conning tower was filled with dense smoke. The admiral lay propped
against the armoured walls with his forehead cut from temple to
temple by a sliver of steel. The flag-lieutenant was down, slain by a
fragment of the same shell that had killed his chief, while the
captain, pale as a sheet, was supporting himself by the
partly-shattered binnacle. Only the two petty officers remained
unwounded, though completely dazed by the concussion.
"Glad you've come," said the captain weakly. "Pass the word for the
commander. We must haul out of line. Tell him to take what steps he
thinks----"
The captain's words trailed off into an unmeaning sentence, his head
dropped on his chest, and he sank unconscious beside the body of the
ill-fated admiral.
By the time the commander reached the conning tower the _Royal
Sovereign_ had automatically dropped out of station. A torpedo, fired
by a badly shattered German warship, the _Pommern_, had struck her a
few feet forward of the sternpost, shattering both rudders and the
two starboard propellers. A few feet farther forward and nothing
could have saved her from total destruction, for the powerful
Schwartz-Kopff would have blown a hole large enough for a carriage to
pass completely through her double skin. As it was, the after flats
were completely flooded, and the flagship was deeply down by the
stern.
At this juncture the engines were stopped, and screened from the
enemy's fire by the _Repulse_, that gallantly intervened, the _Royal
Sovereign_ lost way when about two miles to the west of the first
division of the British fleet.
Already the battle was decided. Superior numbers and gunnery won the
day in spite of the frequent use of torpedoes by the Germans. Several
of the British ships had, indeed, narrow escapes from these sinister
and powerful weapons, for the range was an ideal one. Only the
furious and accurate gunnery of the British ships and the speed of
the two opposing fleets prevented the torpedoes from doing greater
damage, for it was afterwards ascertained that in almost every case
the concussion of the heavy shells destroyed all communication
between the conning towers and the submerged torpedo-rooms of the
various German ships.
Now, for the first time since the commencement of the action,
Hamerton was able to see what was going on without. Thank God! All
around were British and German ships flying the good old White
Ensign--ships no longer, but merely battered and shattered masses of
steel. Away in the haze firing was still being maintained in a
desultory manner, but of the issue of the conflict there could be no
doubt.
Suddenly an exclamation from a marine officer attracted Hamerton's
attention. Following the direction of the officer's outstretched hand
the Sub looked. At less than half a mile off lay the _Orion_. She was
rolling sluggishly, owing to the immense weight and height above the
waterline of her ten 13.5-inch guns. Although every unarmoured part
of her above the side plating was either shot away or riddled, the
rolling revealed the fact that below the waterline she was
practically intact.
She was settling down on an even keel. The survivors of her crew were
vainly attempting to check the inrush of water by means of collision
mats, while those of her pumps which were still in a fit condition
for use were engaged in throwing out large streams of water.
Then, even as Hamerton looked, the _Orion_ ceased to recover herself.
Her gigantic bulk turned slowly over to starboard till she capsized
completely, and floated with her keel only a few feet above the
water.
Those of her crew who were on deck were able for the most part to
jump overboard. In some cases men ran up the side and gained a
temporary refuge on the flat-sectioned bilges, while, seeing what had
occurred, several destroyers hastened to the rescue.
Not a boat was to be found on any of the battleships and cruisers,
save a few canvas collapsibles stowed under the armoured decks before
the action began. Everything of a buoyant nature that was in danger
of taking fire had either been left at the home dockyards or
ruthlessly thrown overboard. In a modern battleship cleared for
action there is no use for life-saving apparatus, however desirable
it may be after the conflict is over.
Many of the swimmers of the _Orion's_ crew were rescued by the
destroyers, but before those clinging to the capsized battleship
could be rescued, the compressed air within the hull burst through
the comparatively thin steel plating with a roar like the explosion
of a magazine. Amid a smother of foam the luckless vessel plunged to
the bed of the North Sea.
This disaster was merely a repetition of the experiments made on the
old _Empress of India_ in 1913. In both cases the vessel was
practically undamaged beneath the armoured deck, while the water was
freely admitted above that particular deck. The result was that the
stability of the vessel was completely disturbed, and the battleship
capsized.
All around the sorely-stricken _Royal Sovereign_ were equally
badly-mauled vessels making temporary repairs. The captured German
warships, numbering nine, had to be taken possession of by men
swimming from the nearest British battleship. This done, Sir George
Maynebrace, who had taken supreme command upon the death of Admiral
Sir Noel Armitage, ordered those vessels that were no longer
seaworthy to be destroyed, while the others were either taken in tow
or proceeded under their own steam for the mouth of the Thames.
It was a matter of impossibility for the British admiral to follow up
his advantage. So badly knocked about were the British battleships
that they would be unable to attack the German fortified bases in the
North Sea. All that could be done was to wait for the Mediterranean
Fleet, mobilize the battleships in reserve, and join forces with the
American squadron. Although the supremacy of the sea was decided, a
hard task still remained ere the fierce and sanguinary struggle could
be brought to an end.