The Fall of the Island Fortress
AT a modest seven knots the battered _Royal Sovereign_ wallowed in
tow in the wake of the _Barham_. It seemed wonderful that she should
have survived the ordeal, for in places the massive armour plates had
been completely knocked away. Her bows were level with the water,
while the whole of her quarter deck had been blown in by a bomb
dropped from a German seaplane.
Almost the last shot fired at her by her principal antagonist, the
gigantic _Breslau_, had hit the chase of one of the fifteen-inch guns
in the second turret from the bows. The huge mass of metal had
fractured, while the muzzle, falling upon the barbette next ahead and
slightly below, had prevented both barbettes from being trained. Thus
one shot had practically put four fifteen-inch guns out of action.
Wherever a heavy shell had struck against armour the latter had been
made nearly red-hot, and for an hour or more after the fight it was
almost impossible to place a hand on the heated metal.
[Illustration: "A SEAPLANE CONTRIVED TO DROP A BOMB ON THE _ROYAL
SOVEREIGN'S_ DECK"]
The use of aerial craft above the fighting battleships was very
limited during the action. Thanks to the preponderance of seaplanes,
the British were able to keep the German aircraft well at a distance.
The only noteworthy exception was the seaplane which contrived to
drop a bomb on the _Royal Sovereign's_ deck. She did not live to
repeat the experiment, for a fragment of a German eleven-inch shell,
ricochetting from the hood of the _Royal Sovereign's_ after barbette,
flew vertically upward for a height of nearly three hundred feet,
literally cutting the daring seaplane in halves.
Nor did the submarines prove their vaunted merits. Detected from the
British aircraft, these sinister vessels stood very little chance.
Even had they come within striking distance it is doubtful whether
they would not have damaged friend as well as foe, for in the
disorder in the formation of the two fleets, and in the dense haze
that enveloped them in less than a minute after the first broadside,
it was a difficult matter to distinguish one ship from another.
Had the action taken place at night the submarine would doubtless
have played an important part in deciding the battle.
Superiority in numbers of light-armoured cruisers and destroyers,
combined with the coolness and precision of the men at the
quick-firers, enabled the British to make short work of the German
"mosquito fleet", although the former did not come out of the action
without heavy loss. Nevertheless there was still the danger that some
of the least-damaged German destroyers might again attempt a night
attack upon the East Coast. Great were the rejoicings in Great
Britain at the victory. They were not extravagant outbursts of joy,
but heartfelt expressions of thankfulness that the great ordeal had
been successfully passed. The imminent danger, made apparent by the
damage done at South Shields, had taught a national lesson, while the
great victory had been bought at a tremendous price in human
lives--the sacrifice at the altar of maritime supremacy.
Directly the _Royal Sovereign_ crept into the Nore she was ordered
round to Portsmouth, since the dockyards of Chatham and Sheerness
were quite unable to cope with the work of refitting any but the
least-damaged ships. Towed by the _Barham_, and escorted by two
destroyers, the crippled vessel reached Spithead, and was taken into
harbour and docked without delay. The surviving officers and crew
were at once turned over to the obsolescent battleship _Collingwood_,
the flagship of the Eighth Battle Squadron.
Five days later the combined Anglo-American fleet left the Nore. Off
the Texel the fleet was divided--the major portion to operate against
Heligoland and the remainder to destroy, if possible, the defences of
Borkum. All the United States' battleships were in the division
detailed for the bombardment of Heligoland, since officers and men
were actuated by the knowledge that an American citizen was still a
prisoner in that island fortress.
It was a case of hasten slowly. The shallows around the mouths of the
Elbe and Weser were admirably suited to the use of submarine mines,
while every "gat" between the extensive sandbanks could be used by
German torpedo craft. Local knowledge was a great factor in favour of
the Teutonic torpedo craft.
It was with curious feelings that Hamerton looked once more upon the
red, white, and green island of Heligoland. Only a short time back he
was there a captive; now he was about to witness a demonstration of
naval might and power against the heavily defended batteries that a
diplomatic mistake on the part of Great Britain had raised into
existence.
Admiral Maynebrace had done Hamerton the honour of asking his
opinion, and, thanks to the Sub's knowledge, he was able to arrange
his plans accordingly. The batteries on the south-western side of the
island were to be left severely alone. Sandinsel was the key of the
position. Once its guns were silenced the reduction of Heligoland
would be a matter of course. Sir George, therefore, ordered the
mine-creeping vessels--subsidized steam "drifters"--to advance under
cover of the battle cruisers and clear away the mines to the
north-east and south-east of Heligoland.
This was a hazardous duty, for the vessels engaged in the work were
open to a torpedo attack from the destroyers either from the
Heligoland base or from the mouths of the Elbe, Eider, Weser, and
Jade. In the wake of the mine-creepers came the battleships, with
torpedo nets out, so as to be prepared for an attack by the
long-range Schwartz-Kopff locomotive torpedoes.
To add to the difficulties, the Germans had already removed all buoys
and navigation marks, so that the ships had to be continuously making
use of the lead line.
Directly night fell the battleships and battle cruisers steamed
westwards with screened lights, so as to be safe from destroyer and
submarine attack, leaving the British small craft to cope with any
demonstration from the numerous German torpedo bases. Thus the
nerve-racking ordeal of momentarily expecting an unseen blow was
spared the already sorely taxed crews of the armoured fleet.
But what the battleships missed the destroyers had more than a full
share of. Triple lines of these vessels patrolled the sea between the
position where the Weser lightship was formerly stationed and that of
the Rittergat light buoy. The destroyers on the flank kept their
searchlights trained outwards in a horizontal position well abeam,
while those in the centre line used their searchlights for the
purpose of locating any hostile aircraft.
In spite of these precautions four of the British torpedo craft were
sunk by German submarines without the former having a glimpse of
their foes.
Before daybreak the battleships were back in their former stations,
the American ships taking up a position to the north-east of
Sandinsel, while the twenty-eight armoured British battleships
directed their fire upon the Düne and East Kalbertan batteries of the
same island. The destroyers were grouped into three divisions--the
first to be attached to the United States ships in case of a hostile
movement from North Haven; the second to lie three miles astern of
the British battleships engaged in bombarding Sandinsel, so as to
guard against a torpedo attack from South Haven; the third detailed
to watch the mainland.
Exactly at eight in the morning the American flagship _Wyoming_
opened the ball by planting a fifteen-inch shell fairly in the centre
of the Krid Brunnen Battery. An enormous cloud of sand, smoke, and
dust, mingled with heavier fragments, followed the explosion. It
looked as if the magazine had been blown up, but a smart reply from
the battery showed that this was not so.
The firing now became general, and the concentrated shells of the
combined fleet literally' rained upon the Sandinsel forts. It seemed
as if nothing could survive the terrible explosions of the heavy
missiles, but with commendable pluck the German gunners stood to
their task. Several of their shells struck the battleships, doing
considerable damage, but the effect on board did not approach the
carnage of the battle of the Galloper Sands. Nor was it to be
wondered at, since the enemy had to spread their fire over a
five-mile line of warships, while the latter were able to concentrate
their guns upon a comparatively limited and immovable target.
In three hours from the time the _Wyoming_ first opened fire the East
Kalbertan, Krid Brunnen, and Düne batteries were silenced, and the
British and American ships were able to direct their attention to the
weaker West Kalbertan Battery and the torpedo flotillas sheltering
between Heligoland and Sandinsel.
This they could do with comparative impunity, for with the exception
of four fifteen-inch guns, mounted on the north-east side of
Heligoland, the defensive armament consisted of lighter guns intended
for use against torpedo craft.
The large guns were soon out of action. The hail of heavy shells
knocked vast quantities of rock from the soft sandstone cliffs. In
half an hour the damage was greater than the erosion of half a
century. The emplacements, undermined by the fall of rock, were soon
unmasked and rendered untenable.
But the German destroyers were not going to be sunk in harbour.
Profiting by the haze of burnt cordite that enveloped the bombarding
ships, thirty of these swift craft slipped out of South Haven. It was
a forlorn hope, and nothing short of destruction awaited them, but
before the end they meant to strike a heavy blow for the Fatherland.
Steaming at close on thirty-five knots, the devoted craft headed
straight for the nearest British battleships--a distance of four
miles from the south-east of Heligoland.
More than half the intervening space was covered before the
threatened attack was noticed by the British flagship. A signal was
instantly made for the light cruisers and destroyers in reserve to
intercept the approaching hostile craft. Already it was too late.
Only the light quick-firers of the British battleships could keep the
enemy at bay.
In response to a general signal the huge warships turned eight points
to starboard. That meant that instead of keeping broadside on to the
forts they were steaming away from them. Hampered by their torpedo
nets the manoeuvre was slowly executed, but each warship now
presented a much smaller target to the German torpedoes, while there
was more room between the battleships for the British destroyers to
operate.
Temporarily the big-gun fire ceased. The sharp barks of the
quick-firers resounded on all sides. Through the maelstrom of
twelve-pounder shells the German destroyers tore. Several swung out
of line, disabled and on the point of sinking; but the surviving
vessels, admirably handled, avoided their stricken consorts and
continued the headlong rush.
Then, acting smartly in response to a signal from the leading boat,
the remaining destroyers ported helm sufficiently for the deck
torpedo tubes to bear, and almost simultaneously thirty deadly
Schwartz-Kopff weapons tore on their mission of destruction.
It was impossible for everyone to miss the mark. The sea was ruffled
with the foam of the swiftly-travelling weapons. Some, exploding the
nets, tore great rents in the meshes and unshipped or shattered the
massive steel booms supporting the best anti-torpedo device that
naval architects could devise. Others, following in their wake,
struck home underneath the armoured plating of the battleships.
Explosion after explosion, outvieing the crack of the quick-firers,
rose in the air. Huge vessels, mortally stricken, rolled sluggishly
under the impact. Mingled with the din came the cheers of the
exultant Germans. It was a modernized form of the old gladiatorial
shout: "Hail, Caesar, those about to die salute thee"; for the cheers
were those of doomed men.
Tearing betwixt the battleships came the British destroyers like
wolves upon a sheepfold. This phase of action became a mêlée. In
several cases the British craft, charging their opponents at full
speed, literally cut these latter in twain. It was but another of
those instances when, in the heat of battle, men neither ask nor
expect quarter. Only four German boats, badly damaged, were able to
regain a temporary and insecure shelter under the lee of Sandinsel.
Nevertheless they had struck a hard blow. The _Bellerophon_, hit
thrice in quick succession, had sunk; the _Ajax_ and _Agamemnon_ were
listing heavily, only their watertight bulkheads abaft the
engine-rooms preventing them from going to the bottom. For offensive
purposes they were now utterly useless. The _Centurion_ and
_Formidable_, having lost their rudders and propellers, had to be
taken in tow, and sent, escorted by the battle cruisers _Impregnable_
and _Inflexible_, to add to the congested state of the British
dockyards.
Nothing daunted by these misfortunes the rest of the allied fleet
maintained a hot fire. By five in the afternoon the east of the
batteries of Sandinsel ceased to reply. The docks, factories and
stores, and shipping on the east of Heligoland were either destroyed
or in flames. The attack upon the island could now be pushed home.
Contrary to expectations the Zeppelins made no attempt to emerge from
their place of concealment. It afterwards transpired that, more by
accident than design, two heavy shells had simultaneously burst in
the great artificial crater into which the airship sheds opened. The
explosions were sufficient to wreck completely the three Zeppelins
lying in the lofty caves.
As night fell the battleships made for the offing, while the British
destroyers and light cruisers took the same precautions against
attack as before.
At daybreak the bombardment was resumed. The Sandinsel batteries,
having effected temporary repairs during the hours of darkness,
reopened fire, but so feebly that in less than twenty minutes there
was no reply to the British guns. The American warships, closing in
from the north-east, directed their attention to the lighter
batteries on the cliff side of Heligoland, and occasionally to
shelling the barracks and searchlight station on the plateau. The
British devoted their energies to the Sathurn battery and the
southern portion of the island, sparing as far as possible the houses
of the Unterland.
At ten minutes past nine a tremendous explosion shook the air. One of
the _Kentucky's_ shells had struck the principal magazine. The
concussion and the fire that followed caused the vast oil reservoirs
to ignite, and in a few moments the whole of the central portion of
the rock seemed one mass of flames.
More feeble grew the reply of the German guns, and at noon the island
fortress of Heligoland capitulated, without one shot being fired from
the more powerful batteries on the south-western side, to which no
vessel belonging to the allies had offered a chance for a single
discharge.
Heligoland, the mailed menace to Great Britain, had fallen.
* * * * *
As soon as the German flag was lowered from the captured island five
hundred British and American marines were landed to take possession
of the fire-swept rock that was but recently the pride of the
Teutonic Empire.
Lieutenant Hamerton was one of the few naval officers to set foot
ashore, but at his earnest request he was given permission to seek
out his old comrade Detroit.
It was with feelings of elation that the young officer stood once
more upon the stone jetty where but a few weeks previously he had
been ignominiously escorted by a file of German marines. Now he was
given a salute by a stalwart British marine who had been promptly
posted at the head of the steps.
On his way to the Oberland--Hamerton had to walk, since the lift had
been damaged during the bombardment--the Sub passed a party of German
officers who were about to put off to the British flagship to satisfy
the terms of the capitulation. One of them he recognized as Major
Karl von Schloss.
Both men gravely saluted each other, then Hamerton advanced and held
out his hand. The major took it without hesitation. He was one of
many who, however bitter the defeat, took in the situation with
becoming mien and grace. Hamerton bore him no ill feeling. True, Von
Schloss had acted harshly to him when he was a prisoner, but the
major really believed that the Sub was a British spy.
"Where is my friend, Detroit?" asked Hamerton.
"He is safe," replied Von Schloss. "Before the firing commenced he
was taken to the church, since we knew that would not be a mark for
your guns."
"One more question, Herr Major; where is the commandant?"
"He is dead," replied Von Schloss, with evident emotion. "He fell
during the bombardment."
Gravely Hamerton raised his right hand to the salute. His former
enemy had given up his life on the altar of duty, a victim to his
misguided efforts to further the interests of the Fatherland.
"I am sorry," he said.
"There is no need," rejoined Major von Schloss. "General von
Wittelsbach died as he wished, in the defence of a charge entrusted
to him by the Kaiser. Believe me, he would never have survived the
humiliation. But now, Herr Hamerton, I bid you farewell."
Both men shook hands and parted, the major hurrying after his
companions, while the Sub wended his way towards the old church.
A number of armed German marines stood without the weatherbeaten
fane. They were stationed there to guard various prisoners who had
been hastily removed from the barrack prison at the commencement of
the attack.
But before Hamerton could approach and make known the nature of his
mission a well-known voice hailed him from one of the narrow windows
of the tower.
"Hallo, old man! So they've let you out? Guess it's about time I
thought about moving. I guess you weren't long in getting into
uniform."
"Considering I haven't taken off my things for the last three days I
cannot agree with you," replied the Sub, with a hearty laugh. "I've
come to bring you out of this, Detroit, so the sooner you come down
from your perch the better."
"I reckon I've had a rotten time," remarked Detroit, as the two
friends made their way to the shore. "But it's worth it," he added
enthusiastically. "To look out of that window and to see the Yankee
eagle and the British lion knocking spots off the German was the
finest sight in creation."
Hamerton shrugged his shoulders. He was thinking of the carnage that
had been wrought on both sides ere "the finest sight in creation" was
completed.
"Yes," he said slowly, "I suppose it was. The onlookers always see
the best of the game."
* * * * *
That same day the articles of capitulation were drawn up and signed.
The officers and some of the garrison of Heligoland, upon giving
their parole, were permitted to withdraw with their private effects.
The guns were either burst by means of guncotton or toppled over the
cliffs, the defensive works that had escaped serious damage during
the bombardment were blown up, and the captured war vessels either
sunk or sent across the North Sea.
Twenty-four hours later an armistice was declared between the
Anglo-American allies and Germany. The humiliation of the German
Empire as a naval power was complete.
Peace was definitely declared in less than a fortnight from the
unprovoked but abortive raid upon the east coast of Great Britain. By
the terms of the treaty Germany was bound down not to maintain a
fleet of more than twenty small cruisers. A comparatively small
indemnity was demanded, while the fortifications of Borkum were
ordered to be razed.
Heligoland was by mutual consent restored to its former masters, the
Danes, and once and for all the menace to Great Britain ceased to
exist.
The war, terrible while it lasted, brought good in its train. The
exhausting struggle for naval supremacy ceased. It was universally
conceded that the great English-speaking nations should rule the sea,
and almost automatically the Great Powers were able to cut down their
almost overwhelming expenses in naval armaments.
The victors had not been ungenerous or vindictive; they had laid no
violent restriction upon their former enemy. Germany could, and did,
still expand her overseas trade without let or hindrance. The
settlement of sea supremacy meant a new era of peace and prosperity.
After the termination of the war, Hamerton, now promoted to the rank
of lieutenant, obtained a shore appointment in Portsmouth Dockyard.
Every summer the ketch _Diomeda_ puts in an appearance in the Solent,
and Hamerton, Detroit, Octavius Smith, and Stirling generally made a
point of having a month's cruise together in the stanch little craft.
Often, on some quiet evening, the _Diomeda_ will be found snugly
moored in some sheltered and secluded creek of the Solent, while down
below in her cosy cabin the four men will be exchanging reminiscences
and recalling the events that led to the capture of the sea-girt
fortress of Heligoland.
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN
_At the Villafield Press, Glasgow, Scotland_
[Transcriber's Notes:
This book contains a number of misprints.
The following misprints have been corrected:
[Any misculation] -> [Any miscalculation]
[dull-back] -> [dull-black]
[degree of enthusiam] -> [degree of enthusiasm]
[overunning] -> [overrunning]
[Barracading] -> [Barricading]
[befel] -> [befell]
[to give an explanaation] -> [to give an explanation]
A few cases of punctuation errors were corrected,
but are not mentioned here.
]
End of Project Gutenberg's The Sea-girt Fortress, by Percy F. Westerman